note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) young folks' treasury in volumes hamilton wright mabie, editor edward everett hale, associate editor volume ii: myths and legendary heroes hamilton wright mabie, editor new york the university society inc. publishers [illustration: jason snatched off his helmet and hurled it.] partial list of contributors, assistant editors and advisers hamilton wright mabie editor edward everett hale associate editor nicholas murray butler, president columbia university. william r. harper, late president chicago university. hon. theodore roosevelt, ex-president of the united states. hon. grover cleveland, late president of the united states. james cardinal gibbons, american roman catholic prelate. robert c. ogden, partner of john wanamaker. hon. george f. hoar, late senator from massachusetts. edward w. bok, editor "ladies' home journal." henry van dyke, author, poet, and professor of english literature, princeton university. lyman abbott, author, editor of "the outlook." charles g.d. roberts, writer of animal stories. jacob a. riis, author and journalist. edward everett hale, jr., english professor at union college. joel chandler harris, late author and creator of "uncle remus." george gary eggleston, novelist and journalist. ray stannard baker, author and journalist. william blaikie, author of "how to get strong and how to stay so." william davenport hulbert, writer of animal stories. joseph jacobs, folklore writer and editor of the "jewish encyclopedia." mrs. virginia terhune ("marion harland"), author of "common sense in the household," etc. margaret e. sangster, author of "the art of home-making," etc. sarah k. bolton, biographical writer. ellen velvin, writer of animal stories. rev. theodore wood, f.e.s., writer on natural history. w.j. baltzell, editor of "the musician." herbert t. wade, editor and writer on physics. john h. clifford, editor and writer. ernest ingersoll, naturalist and author. daniel e. wheeler, editor and writer. ida prentice whitcomb, author of "young people's story of music," "heroes of history," etc. mark hambourg, pianist and composer. mme. blanche marchesi, opera singer and teacher. contents introduction myths of greece and rome baucis and philemon adapted by c.e. smith pandora adapted by c.e. smith midas adapted by c.e. smith cadmus adapted by c.e. smith proserpina adapted by c.e. smith the story of atalanta adapted by anna klingensmith pyramus and thisbe adapted by alice zimmern orpheus adapted by alice zimmern myths of scandinavia baldur adapted from a. and e. keary's version thor's adventure among the jotuns adapted by julia goddard the apples of idun adapted by hamilton wright mabie the gifts of the dwarfs the punishment of loki adapted from a. and e. keary's version myths of india the blind man, the deaf man, and the donkey adapted by m. frere harisarman why the fish laughed muchie lal adapted by m. frere how the rajah's son won the princess labam adapted by joseph jacobs myths of japan the jellyfish and the monkey adapted by yei theodora ozaki the old man and-the devils autumn and spring adapted by frank kinder the vision of tsunu adapted by frank kinder the star-lovers adapted by frank kinder myths of the slavs the two brothers adapted by alexander chodsko the twelve months adapted by alexander chodsko the sun; or, the three golden hairs of the old man vésèvde adapted by alexander chodsko a myth of america hiawatha adapted from h.r. schoolcraft's version heroes of greece and rome perseus adapted by mary macgregor odysseus adapted by jeanie lang the argonauts adapted by mary macgregor theseus adapted by mary macgregor hercules adapted by thomas cartwright the perilous voyage of Æneas adapted by alice zimmern how horatius held the bridge adapted by alfred j. church how cincinnatus saved rome adapted by alfred j. church heroes of great britain beowulf adapted by h.e. marshall how king arthur conquered rome adapted by e. edwardson sir galahad and the sacred cup adapted by mary macgregor the passing of arthur adapted by mary macgregor robin hood adapted by h.e. marshall guy of warwick adapted by h.e. marshall whittington and his cat adapted by ernest rhys tom hickathrift adapted by ernest rhys heroes of scandinavia the story of frithiof adapted by julia goddard havelok adapted by george w. cox and e.h. jones the vikings adapted by mary macgregor hero of germany siegfried adapted by mary macgregor hero of france roland adapted by h.e. marshall hero of spain the cid adapted by robert southey hero of switzerland william tell adapted by h.e. marshall hero of persia rustem adapted by alfred j. church illustrations jason snatched off his helmet and hurled it (frontispiece) out flew a bright, smiling fairy he caught her in his arms and sprang into the chariot orpheus and eurydice the punishment of loki the princess labam ... shines so that she lights up all the country hiawatha in his canoe so danae was comforted and went home with dictys orpheus sang till his voice drowned the song of the sirens they leapt across the pool and came to him theseus looked up into her fair face sir galahad robin hood in an encounter the hero's shining sword pierced the heart of the monster william tell and his friends (many of the illustrations in this volume are reproduced by special permission of e.p. dutton & company, owners of american rights.) introduction with such a table of contents in front of this little foreword, i am quite sure that few will pause to consider my prosy effort. nor can i blame any readers who jump over my head, when they may sit beside kind old baucis, and drink out of her miraculous milk-pitcher, and hear noble philemon talk; or join hands with pandora and epimetheus in their play before the fatal box was opened; or, in fact, be in the company of even the most awe-inspiring of our heroes and heroines. for ages the various characters told about in the following pages have charmed, delighted, and inspired the people of the world. like fairy tales, these stories of gods, demigods, and wonderful men were the natural offspring of imaginative races, and from generation to generation they were repeated by father and mother to son and daughter. and if a brave man had done a big deed he was immediately celebrated in song and story, and quite as a matter of course, the deed grew with repetition of these. minstrels, gleemen, poets, and skalds (a scandinavian term for poets) took up these rich themes and elaborated them. thus, if a hero had killed a serpent, in time it became a fiery dragon, and if he won a great battle, the enthusiastic reciters of it had him do prodigious feats--feats beyond belief. but do not fancy from this that the heroes were every-day persons. indeed, they were quite extraordinary and deserved highest praise of their fellow-men. so, in ancient and medieval europe the wandering poet or minstrel went from place to place repeating his wondrous narratives, adding new verses to his tales, changing his episodes to suit locality or occasion, and always skilfully shaping his fascinating romances. in court and cottage he was listened to with breathless attention. he might be compared to a living novel circulating about the country, for in those days books were few or entirely unknown. oriental countries, too, had their professional story-spinners, while our american indians heard of the daring exploits of their heroes from the lips of old men steeped in tradition. my youngest reader can then appreciate how myths and legends were multiplied and their incidents magnified. we all know how almost unconsciously we color and change the stories we repeat, and naturally so did our gentle and gallant singers through the long-gone centuries of chivalry and simple faith. every reader can feel the deep significance underlying the myths we present--the poetry and imperishable beauty of the greek, the strange and powerful conceptions of the scandinavian mind, the oddity and fantasy of the japanese, slavs, and east indians, and finally the queer imaginings of our own american indians. who, for instance, could ever forget poor proserpina and the six pomegranate seeds, the death of beautiful baldur, the luminous princess labam, the stupid jellyfish and shrewd monkey, and the funny way in which hiawatha remade the earth after it had been destroyed by flood? then take our legendary heroes: was ever a better or braver company brought together--perseus, hercules, siegfried, roland, galahad, robin hood, and a dozen others? but stop, i am using too many question-marks. there is no need to query heroes known and admired the world over. as true latter-day story-tellers, both hawthorne and kingsley retold many of these myths and legends, and from their classic pages we have adapted a number of our tales, and made them somewhat simpler and shorter in form. by way of apology for this liberty (if some should so consider it), we humbly offer a paragraph from a preface to the "wonder book" written by its author: "a great freedom of treatment was necessary but it will be observed by every one who attempts to render these legends malleable in his intellectual furnace, that they are marvelously independent of all temporary modes and circumstances. they remain essentially the same, after changes that would affect the identity of almost anything else." now to those who have not jumped over my head, or to those who, having done so, may jump back to this foreword, i trust my few remarks will have given some additional interest in our myths and heroes of lands far and near. daniel edwin wheeler myths of many countries myths of greece and rome baucis and philemon adapted by c.e. smith one evening, in times long ago, old philemon and his wife baucis sat at their cottage door watching the sunset. they had eaten their supper and were enjoying a quiet talk about their garden, and their cow, and the fruit trees on which the pears and apples were beginning to ripen. but their talk was very much disturbed by rude shouts and laughter from the village children, and by the fierce barking of dogs. "i fear," said philemon, "that some poor traveler is asking for a bed in the village, and that these rough people have set the dogs on him." "well, i never," answered old baucis. "i do wish the neighbors would be kinder to poor wanderers; i feel that some terrible punishment will happen to this village if the people are so wicked as to make fun of those who are tired and hungry. as for you and me, so long as we have a crust of bread, let us always be willing to give half of it to any poor homeless stranger who may come along." "indeed, that we will," said philemon. these old folks, you must know, were very poor, and had to work hard for a living. they seldom had anything to eat except bread and milk, and vegetables, with sometimes a little honey from their beehives, or a few ripe pears and apples from their little garden. but they were two of the kindest old people in the world, and would have gone without their dinner any day, rather than refuse a slice of bread or a cupful of milk to the weary traveler who might stop at the door. their cottage stood on a little hill a short way from the village, which lay in a valley; such a pretty valley, shaped like a cup, with plenty of green fields and gardens, and fruit trees; it was a pleasure just to look at it. but the people who lived in this lovely place were selfish and hard-hearted; they had no pity for the poor, and were unkind to those who had no home, and they only laughed when philemon said it was right to be gentle to people who were sad and friendless. these wicked villagers taught their children to be as bad as themselves. they used to clap their hands and make fun of poor travelers who were tramping wearily from one village to another, and they even taught the dogs to snarl and bark at strangers if their clothes were shabby. so the village was known far and near as an unfriendly place, where neither help nor pity was to be found. what made it worse, too, was that when rich people came in their carriages, or riding on fine horses, with servants to attend to them, the village people would take off their hats and be very polite and attentive: and if the children were rude they got their ears boxed; as to the dogs--if a single dog dared to growl at a rich man he was beaten and then tied up without any supper. so now you can understand why old philemon spoke sadly when he heard the shouts of the children, and the barking of the dogs, at the far end of the village street. he and baucis sat shaking their heads while the noise came nearer and nearer, until they saw two travelers coming along the road on foot. a crowd of rude children were following them, shouting and throwing stones, and several dogs were snarling at the travelers' heels. they were both very plainly dressed, and looked as if they might not have enough money to pay for a night's lodging. "come, wife," said philemon, "let us go and meet these poor people and offer them shelter." "you go," said baucis, "while i make ready some supper," and she hastened indoors. philemon went down the road, and holding out his hand to the two men, he said, "welcome, strangers, welcome." "thank you," answered the younger of the two travelers. "yours is a kind welcome, very different from the one we got in the village; pray why do you live in such a bad place?" "i think," answered philemon, "that providence put me here just to make up as best i can for other people's unkindness." the traveler laughed heartily, and philemon was glad to see him in such good spirits. he took a good look at him and his companion. the younger man was very thin, and was dressed in an odd kind of way. though it was a summer evening, he wore a cloak which was wrapped tightly about him; and he had a cap on his head, the brim of which stuck out over both ears. there was something queer too about his shoes, but as it was getting dark, philemon could not see exactly what they were like. one thing struck philemon very much, the traveler was so wonderfully light and active that it seemed as if his feet were only kept close to the ground with difficulty. he had a staff in his hand which was the oddest-looking staff philemon had seen. it was made of wood and had a little pair of wings near the top. two snakes cut into the wood were twisted round the staff, and these were so well carved that philemon almost thought he could see them wriggling. the older man was very tall, and walked calmly along, taking no notice either of naughty children or yelping dogs. when they reached the cottage gate, philemon said, "we are very poor folk, but you are welcome to whatever we have in the cupboard. my wife baucis has gone to see what you can have for supper." they sat down on the bench, and the younger stranger let his staff fall as he threw himself down on the grass, and then a strange thing happened. the staff seemed to get up from the ground of its own accord, and it opened a little pair of wings and half-hopped, half-flew and leaned itself against the wall of the cottage. philemon was so amazed that he feared he had been dreaming, but before he could ask any questions, the elder stranger said: "was there not a lake long ago covering the spot where the village now stands?" "never in my day," said old philemon, "nor in my father's, nor my grandfather's: there were always fields and meadows just as there are now, and i suppose there always will be." "that i am not so sure of," replied the stranger. "since the people in that village have forgotten how to be loving and gentle, maybe it were better that the lake should be rippling over the cottages again," and he looked very sad and stern. he was a very important-looking man, philemon felt, even though his clothes were old and shabby; maybe he was some great learned stranger who did not care at all for money or clothes, and was wandering about the world seeking wisdom and knowledge. philemon was quite sure he was not a common person. but he talked so kindly to philemon, and the younger traveler made such funny remarks, that they were all constantly laughing. "pray, my young friend, what is your name?" philemon asked. "well," answered the younger man, "i am called mercury, because i am so quick." "what a strange name!" said philemon; "and your friend, what is he called?" "you must ask the thunder to tell you that," said mercury, "no other voice is loud enough." philemon was a little confused at this answer, but the stranger looked so kind and friendly that he began to tell them about his good old wife, and what fine butter and cheese she made, and how happy they were in their little garden; and how they loved each other very dearly and hoped they might live together till they died. and the stern stranger listened with a sweet smile on his face. baucis had now got supper ready; not very much of a supper, she told them. there was only half a brown loaf and a bit of cheese, a pitcher with some milk, a little honey, and a bunch of purple grapes. but she said, "had we only known you were coming, my goodman and i would have gone without anything in order to give you a better supper." "do not trouble," said the elder stranger kindly. "a hearty welcome is better than the finest of food, and we are so hungry that what you have to offer us seems a feast." then they all went into the cottage. and now i must tell you something that will make your eyes open. you remember that mercury's staff was leaning against the cottage wall? well, when its owner went in at the door, what should this wonderful staff do but spread its little wings and go hop-hop, flutter-flutter up the steps; then it went tap-tap across the kitchen floor and did not stop till it stood close behind mercury's chair. no one noticed this, as baucis and her husband were too busy attending to their guests. baucis filled up two bowls of milk from the pitcher, while her husband cut the loaf and the cheese. "what delightful milk, mother baucis," said mercury, "may i have some more? this has been such a hot day that i am very thirsty." "oh dear, i am so sorry and ashamed," answered baucis, "but the truth is there is hardly another drop of milk in the pitcher." "let me see," said mercury, starting up and catching hold of the handles, "why here is certainly more milk in the pitcher." he poured out a bowlful for himself and another for his companion. baucis could scarcely believe her eyes. "i suppose i must have made a mistake," she thought, "at any rate the pitcher must be empty now after filling both bowls twice over." "excuse me, my kind hostess," said mercury in a little while, "but your milk is so good that i should very much like another bowlful." now baucis was perfectly sure that the pitcher was empty, and in order to show mercury that there was not another drop in it, she held it upside down over his bowl. what was her surprise when a stream of fresh milk fell bubbling into the bowl and overflowed on to the table, and the two snakes that were twisted round mercury's staff stretched out their heads and began to lap it up. "and now, a slice of your brown loaf, pray mother baucis, and a little honey," asked mercury. baucis handed the loaf, and though it had been rather a hard and dry loaf when she and her husband ate some at tea-time, it was now as soft and new as if it had just come from the oven. as to the honey, it had become the color of new gold and had the scent of a thousand flowers, and the small grapes in the bunch had grown larger and richer, and each one seemed bursting with ripe juice. although baucis was a very simple old woman, she could not help thinking that there was something rather strange going on. she sat down beside philemon and told him in a whisper what she had seen. "did you ever hear anything so wonderful?" she asked. "no, i never did," answered philemon, with a smile. "i fear you have been in a dream, my dear old wife." he knew baucis could not say what was untrue, but he thought that she had not noticed how much milk there had really been in the pitcher at first. so when mercury once more asked for a little milk, philemon rose and lifted the pitcher himself. he peeped in and saw that there was not a drop in it; then all at once a little white fountain gushed up from the bottom, and the pitcher was soon filled to the brim with delicious milk. philemon was so amazed that he nearly let the jug fall. "who are ye, wonder-working strangers?" he cried. "your guests, good philemon, and your friends," answered the elder traveler, "and may the pitcher never be empty for kind baucis and yourself any more than for the hungry traveler." the old people did not like to ask any more questions; they gave the guests their own sleeping-room, and then they lay down on the hard floor in the kitchen. it was long before they fell asleep, not because they thought how hard their bed was, but because there was so much to whisper to each other about the wonderful strangers and what they had done. they all rose with the sun next morning. philemon begged the visitors to stay a little till baucis should milk the cow and bake some bread for breakfast. but the travelers seemed to be in a hurry and wished to start at once, and they asked baucis and philemon to go with them a short distance to show them the way. so they all four set out together, and mercury was so full of fun and laughter, and made them feel so happy and bright, that they would have been glad to keep him in their cottage every day and all day long. "ah me," said philemon, "if only our neighbors knew what a pleasure it was to be kind to strangers, they would tie up all their dogs and never allow the children to fling another stone." "it is a sin and shame for them to behave so," said baucis, "and i mean to go this very day and tell some of them how wicked they are." "i fear," said mercury, smiling, "that you will not find any of them at home." the old people looked at the elder traveler and his face had grown very grave and stern. "when men do not feel towards the poorest stranger as if he were a brother," he said, in a deep, grave voice, "they are not worthy to remain on the earth, which was made just to be the home for the whole family of the human race of men and women and children." "and, by the bye," said mercury, with a look of fun and mischief in his eyes, "where is this village you talk about? i do not see anything of it." philemon and his wife turned towards the valley, where at sunset only the day before they had seen the trees and gardens, and the houses, and the streets with the children playing in them. but there was no longer any sign of the village. there was not even a valley. instead, they saw a broad lake which filled all the great basin from brim to brim, and whose waters glistened and sparkled in the morning sun. the village that had been there only yesterday was now gone! "alas! what has become of our poor neighbors?" cried the kind-hearted old people. "they are not men and women any longer," answered the elder traveler, in a deep voice like distant thunder. "there was no beauty and no use in lives such as theirs, for they had no love for one another, and no pity in their hearts for those who were poor and weary. therefore the lake that was here in the old, old days has flowed over them, and they will be men and women no more." "yes," said mercury, with his mischievous smile, "these foolish people have all been changed into fishes because they had cold blood which never warmed their hearts, just as the fishes have." "as for you, good philemon, and you, kind baucis," said the elder traveler, "you, indeed, gave a hearty welcome to the homeless strangers. you have done well, my dear old friends, and whatever wish you have most at heart will be granted." philemon and baucis looked at one another, and then i do not know which spoke, but it seemed as if the voice came from them both. "let us live together while we live, and let us die together, at the same time, for we have always loved one another." "be it so," said the elder stranger, and he held out his hands as if to bless them. the old couple bent their heads and fell on their knees to thank him, and when they lifted their eyes again, neither mercury nor his companion was to be seen. so philemon and baucis returned to the cottage, and to every traveler who passed that way they offered a drink of milk from the wonderful pitcher, and if the guest was a kind, gentle soul, he found the milk the sweetest and most refreshing he had ever tasted. but if a cross, bad-tempered fellow took even a sip, he found the pitcher full of sour milk, which made him twist his face with dislike and disappointment. baucis and philemon lived a great, great many years and grew very old. and one summer morning when their friends came to share their breakfast, neither baucis nor philemon was to be found! the guests looked everywhere, and all in vain. then suddenly one of them noticed two beautiful trees in the garden, just in front of the door. one was an oak tree and the other a linden tree, and their branches were twisted together so that they seemed to be embracing. no one had ever seen these trees before, and while they were all wondering how such fine trees could possibly have grown up in a single night, there came a gentle wind which set the branches moving, and then a mysterious voice was heard coming from the oak tree. "i am old philemon," it said; and again another voice whispered, "and i am baucis." and the people knew that the good old couple would live for a hundred years or more in the heart of these lovely trees. and oh, what a pleasant shade they flung around! some kind soul built a seat under the branches, and whenever a traveler sat down to rest he heard a pleasant whisper of the leaves over his head, and he wondered why the sound should seem to say, "welcome, dear traveler, welcome." pandora adapted by c.e. smith long, long ago, when this old world was still very young, there lived a child named epimetheus. he had neither father nor mother, and to keep him company, a little girl, who was fatherless and motherless like himself, was sent from a far country to live with him and be his playfellow. this child's name was pandora. the first thing that pandora saw, when she came to the cottage where epimetheus lived, was a great wooden box. "what have you in that box, epimetheus?" she asked. "that is a secret," answered epimetheus, "and you must not ask any questions about it; the box was left here for safety, and i do not know what is in it." "but who gave it you?" asked pandora, "and where did it come from?" "that is a secret too," answered epimetheus. "how tiresome!" exclaimed pandora, pouting her lip. "i wish the great ugly box were out of the way;" and she looked very cross. "come along, and let us play games," said epimetheus; "do not let us think any more about it;" and they ran out to play with the other children, and for a while pandora forgot all about the box. but when she came back to the cottage, there it was in front of her, and instead of paying no heed to it, she began to say to herself: "whatever can be inside it? i wish i just knew who brought it! dear epimetheus, do tell me; i know i cannot be happy till you tell me all about it." then epimetheus grew a little angry. "how can i tell you, pandora?" he said, "i do not know any more than you do." "well, you could open it," said pandora, "and we could see for ourselves!" but epimetheus looked so shocked at the very idea of opening a box that had been given to him in trust, that pandora saw she had better not suggest such a thing again. "at least you can tell me how it came here," she said. "it was left at the door," answered epimetheus, "just before you came, by a queer person dressed in a very strange cloak; he had a cap that seemed to be partly made of feathers; it looked exactly as if he had wings." "what kind of a staff had he?" asked pandora. "oh, the most curious staff you ever saw," cried epimetheus: "it seemed like two serpents twisted round a stick." "i know him," said pandora thoughtfully. "it was mercury, and he brought me here as well as the box. i am sure he meant the box for me, and perhaps there are pretty clothes in it for us to wear, and toys for us both to play with." "it may be so," answered epimetheus, turning away; "but until mercury comes back and tells us that we may open it, neither of us has any right to lift the lid;" and he went out of the cottage. "what a stupid boy he is!" muttered pandora, "i do wish he had a little more spirit." then she stood gazing at the box. she had called it ugly a hundred times, but it was really a very handsome box, and would have been an ornament in any room. it was made of beautiful dark wood, so dark and so highly polished that pandora could see her face in it. the edges and the corners were wonderfully carved. on these were faces of lovely women, and of the prettiest children, who seemed to be playing among the leaves and flowers. but the most beautiful face of all was one which had a wreath of flowers about its brow. all around it was the dark, smooth-polished wood with this strange face looking out from it, and some days pandora thought it was laughing at her, while at other times it had a very grave look which made her rather afraid. the box was not fastened with a lock and key like most boxes, but with a strange knot of gold cord. there never was a knot so queerly tied; it seemed to have no end and no beginning, but was twisted so cunningly, with so many ins and outs, that not even the cleverest fingers could undo it. pandora began to examine the knot just to see how it was made. "i really believe," she said to herself, "that i begin to see how it is done. i am sure i could tie it up again after undoing it. there could be no harm in that; i need not open the box even if i undo the knot." and the longer she looked at it, the more she wanted just to try. so she took the gold cord in her fingers and examined it very closely. then she raised her head, and happening to glance at the flower-wreathed face, she thought it was grinning at her. "i wonder whether it is smiling because i am doing wrong," thought pandora, "i have a good mind to leave the box alone and run away." but just at that moment, as if by accident, she gave the knot a little shake, and the gold cord untwisted itself as if by magic, and there was the box without any fastening. "this is the strangest thing i have ever known," said pandora, rather frightened, "what will epimetheus say? how can i possibly tie it up again?" she tried once or twice, but the knot would not come right. it had untied itself so suddenly she could not remember in the least how the cord had been twisted together. so there was nothing to be done but to let the box remain unfastened until epimetheus should come home. "but," thought pandora; "when he finds the knot untied he will know that i have done it; how shall i ever make him believe that i have not looked into the box?" and then the naughty thought came into her head that, as epimetheus would believe that she had looked into the box, she might just as well have a little peep. she looked at the face with the wreath, and it seemed to smile at her invitingly, as much as to say: "do not be afraid, what harm can there possibly be in raising the lid for a moment?" and then she thought she heard voices inside, tiny voices that whispered: "let us out, dear pandora, do let us out; we want very much to play with you if you will only let us out?" "what can it be?" said pandora. "is there something alive in the box? yes, i must just see, only one little peep and the lid will be shut down as safely as ever. there cannot really be any harm in just one little peep." all this time epimetheus had been playing with the other children in the fields, but he did not feel happy. this was the first time he had played without pandora, and he was so cross and discontented that the other children could not think what was the matter with him. you see, up to this time everybody in the world had always been happy, no one had ever been ill, or naughty, or miserable; the world was new and beautiful, and the people who lived in it did not know what trouble meant. so epimetheus could not understand what was the matter with himself, and he stopped trying to play games and went back to pandora. on the way home he gathered a bunch of lovely roses, and lilies, and orange-blossoms, and with these he made a wreath to give pandora, who was very fond of flowers. he noticed there was a great black cloud in the sky, which was creeping nearer and nearer to the sun, and just as ejpimetheus reached the cottage door the cloud went right over the sun and made everything look dark and sad. epimetheus went in quietly, for he wanted to surprise pandora with the wreath of flowers. and what do you think he saw? the naughty little girl had put her hand on the lid of the box and was just going to open it. epimetheus saw this quite well, and if he had cried out at once it would have given pandora such a fright she would have let go the lid. but epimetheus was very naughty too. although he had said very little about the box, he was just as curious as pandora was to see what was inside: if they really found anything pretty or valuable in it, he meant to take half of it for himself; so that he was just as naughty, and nearly as much to blame as his companion. when pandora raised the lid, the cottage had grown very dark, for the black cloud now covered the sun entirely and a heavy peal of thunder was heard. but pandora was too busy and excited to notice this: she lifted the lid right up, and at once a swarm of creatures with wings flew out of the box, and a minute after she heard epimetheus crying loudly: "oh, i am stung, i am stung! you naughty pandora, why did you open this wicked box?" pandora let the lid fall with a crash and started up to find out what had happened to her playmate. the thunder-cloud had made the room so dark that she could scarcely see, but she heard a loud buzz-buzzing, as if a great many huge flies had flown in, and soon she saw a crowd of ugly little shapes darting about, with wings like bats and with terribly long stings in their tails. it was one of these that had stung epimetheus, and it was not long before pandora began to scream with pain and fear. an ugly little monster had settled on her forehead, and would have stung her badly had not epimetheus run forward and brushed it away. now i must tell you that these ugly creatures with stings, which had escaped from the box, were the whole family of earthly troubles. there were evil tempers, and a great many kinds of cares: and there were more than a hundred and fifty sorrows, and there were diseases in many painful shapes. in fact all the sorrows and worries that hurt people in the world to-day had been shut up in the magic-box, and given to epimetheus and pandora to keep safely, in order that the happy children in the world might never be troubled by them. if only these two had obeyed mercury and had left the box alone as he told them, all would have gone well. but you see what mischief they had done. the winged troubles flew out at the window and went all over the world: and they made people so unhappy that no one smiled for a great many days. it was very strange, too, that from this day flowers began to fade, and after a short time they died, whereas in the old times, before pandora opened the box, they had been always fresh and beautiful. meanwhile pandora and epimetheus remained in the cottage: they were very miserable and in great pain, which made them both exceedingly cross. epimetheus sat down sullenly in a corner with his back to pandora, while pandora flung herself on the floor and cried bitterly, resting her head on the lid of the fatal box. suddenly, she heard a gentle tap-tap inside. "what can that be?" said pandora, raising her head; and again came the tap, tap. it sounded like the knuckles of a tiny hand knocking lightly on the inside of the box. "who are you?" asked pandora. a sweet little voice came from inside: "only lift the lid and you will see." but pandora was afraid to lift the lid again. she looked across to epimetheus, but he was so cross that he took no notice. pandora sobbed: "no, no, i am afraid; there are so many troubles with stings flying about that we do not want any more?" "ah, but i am not one of these," the sweet voice said, "they are no relations of mine. come, come, dear pandora, i am sure you will let me out." the voice sounded so kind and cheery that it made pandora feel better even to listen to it. epimetheus too had heard the voice. he stopped crying. then he came forward, and said: "let me help you, pandora, as the lid is very heavy." so this time both the children opened the box, and out flew a bright, smiling little fairy, who brought light and sunshine with her. she flew to epimetheus and with her finger touched his brow where the trouble had stung him, and immediately the pain was gone. then she kissed pandora, and her hurt was better at once. [illustration: out flew a bright smiling little fairy.] "pray who are you, kind fairy?" pandora asked. "i am called hope," answered the sunshiny figure. "i was shut up in the box so that i might be ready to comfort people when the family of troubles got loose in the world." "what lovely wings you have! they are just like a rainbow. and will you stay with us," asked epimetheus, "for ever and ever?" "yes," said hope, "i shall stay with you as long as you live. sometimes you will not be able to see me, and you may think i am dead, but you will find that i come back again and again when you have given up expecting me, and you must always trust my promise that i will never really leave you." "yes, we do trust you," cried both children. and all the rest of their lives when the troubles came back and buzzed about their heads and left bitter stings of pain, pandora and epimetheus would remember whose fault it was that the troubles had ever come into the world at all, and they would then wait patiently till the fairy with the rainbow wings came back to heal and comfort them. midas adapted by c.e. smith once upon a time there lived a very rich king whose name was midas, and he had a little daughter whom he loved very dearly. this king was fonder of gold than of anything else in the whole world: or if he did love anything better, it was the one little daughter who played so merrily beside her father's footstool. but the more midas loved his daughter, the more he wished to be rich for her sake. he thought, foolish man, that the best thing he could do for his child was to leave her the biggest pile of yellow glittering gold that had ever been heaped together since the world began. so he gave all his thoughts and all his time to this purpose. when he worked in his garden, he used to wish that the roses had leaves made of gold, and once when his little daughter brought him a handful of yellow buttercups, he exclaimed, "now if these had only been real gold they would have been worth gathering." he very soon forgot how beautiful the flowers, and the grass, and the trees were, and at the time my story begins midas could scarcely bear to see or to touch anything that was not made of gold. every day he used to spend a great many hours in a dark, ugly room underground: it was here that he kept all his money, and whenever midas wanted to be very happy he would lock himself into this miserable room and would spend hours and hours pouring the glittering coins out of his money-bags. or he would count again and again the bars of gold which were kept in a big oak chest with a great iron lock in the lid, and sometimes he would carry a boxful of gold dust from the dark corner where it lay, and would look at the shining heap by the light that came from a tiny window. to his greedy eyes there never seemed to be half enough; he was quite discontented. "what a happy man i should be," he said one day, "if only the whole world could be made of gold, and if it all belonged to me!" just then a shadow fell across the golden pile, and when midas looked up he saw a young man with a cheery rosy face standing in the thin strip of sunshine that came through the little window. midas was certain that he had carefully locked the door before he opened his money-bags, so he knew that no one, unless he were more than a mortal, could get in beside him. the stranger seemed so friendly and pleasant that midas was not in the least afraid. "you are a rich man, friend midas," the visitor said. "i doubt if any other room in the whole world has as much gold in it as this." "may be," said midas in a discontented voice, "but i wish it were much more; and think how many years it has taken me to gather it all! if only i could live for a thousand years, then i might be really rich. "then you are not satisfied?" asked the stranger. midas shook his head. "what would satisfy you?" the stranger said. midas looked at his visitor for a minute, and then said, "i am tired of getting money with so much trouble. i should like everything i touch to be changed into gold." the stranger smiled, and his smile seemed to fill the room like a flood of sunshine. "are you quite sure, midas, that you would never be sorry if your wish were granted?" he asked. "quite sure," said midas: "i ask nothing more to make me perfectly happy." "be it as you wish, then," said the stranger: "from to-morrow at sunrise you will have your desire--everything you touch will be changed into gold." the figure of the stranger then grew brighter and brighter, so that midas had to close his eyes, and when he opened them again he saw only a yellow sunbeam in the room, and all around him glittered the precious gold which he had spent his life in gathering. how midas longed for the next day to come! he scarcely slept that night, and as soon as it was light he laid his hand on the chair beside his bed; then he nearly cried when he saw that nothing happened: the chair remained just as it was. "could the stranger have made a mistake," he wondered, "or had it been a dream?" he lay still, getting angrier and angrier each minute until at last the sun rose, and the first rays shone through his window and brightened the room. it seemed to midas that the bright yellow sunbeam was reflected very curiously from the covering of his bed, and he sat up and looked more closely. what was his delight when he saw that the bedcover on which his hands rested had become a woven cloth of the purest and brightest gold! he started up and caught hold of the bed-post--instantly it became a golden pillar. he pulled aside the window-curtain and the tassel grew heavy in his hand--it was a mass of gold! he took up a book from the table, and at his first touch it became a bundle of thin golden leaves, in which no reading could be seen. midas was delighted with his good fortune. he took his spectacles from his pocket and put them on, so that he might see more distinctly what he was about. but to his surprise he could not possibly see through them: the clear glasses had turned into gold, and, of course, though they were worth a great deal of money, they were of no more use as spectacles. midas thought this was rather troublesome, but he soon forgot all about it. he went downstairs, and how he laughed with pleasure when he noticed that the railing became a bar of shining gold as he rested his hand on it; even the rusty iron latch of the garden door turned yellow as soon as his fingers pressed it. how lovely the garden was! in the old days midas had been very fond of flowers, and had spent a great deal of money in getting rare trees and flowers with which to make his garden beautiful. red roses in full bloom scented the air: purple and white violets nestled under the rose-bushes, and birds were singing happily in the cherry-trees, which were covered with snow-white blossoms. but since midas had become so fond of gold he had lost all pleasure in his garden: this morning he did not even see how beautiful it was. he was thinking of nothing but the wonderful gift the stranger had brought him, and he was sure he could make the garden of far more value than it had ever been. so he went from bush to bush and touched the flowers. and the beautiful pink and red color faded from the roses: the violets became stiff, and then glittered among bunches of hard yellow leaves: and showers of snow-white blossoms no longer fell from the cherry-trees; the tiny petals were all changed into flakes of solid gold, which glittered so brightly in the sunbeams that midas could not bear to look at them. but he was quite satisfied with his morning's work, and went back to the palace for breakfast feeling very happy. just then he heard his little daughter crying bitterly, and she came running into the room sobbing as if her heart would break. "how now, little lady," he said, "pray what is the matter with you this morning?" "oh dear, oh dear, such a dreadful thing has happened!" answered the child. "i went to the garden to gather you some roses, and they are all spoiled; they have grown quite ugly, and stiff, and yellow, and they have no scent. what can be the matter?" and she cried bitterly. midas was ashamed to confess that he was to blame, so he said nothing, and they sat down at the table. the king was very hungry, and he poured out a cup of coffee and helped himself to some fish, but the instant his lips touched the coffee it became the color of gold, and the next moment it hardened into a solid lump. "oh dear me!" exclaimed the king, rather surprised. "what is the matter, father?" asked his little daughter. "nothing, child, nothing," he answered; "eat your bread and milk before it gets cold." then he looked at the nice little fish on his plate, and he gently touched its tail with his finger. to his horror it at once changed into gold. he took one of the delicious hot cakes, and he had scarcely broken it when the white flour changed into yellow crumbs which shone like grains of hard sea-sand. "i do not see how i am going to get any breakfast," he said to himself, and he looked with envy at his little daughter, who had dried her tears and was eating her bread and milk hungrily. "i wonder if it will be the same at dinner," he thought, "and if so, how am i going to live if all my food is to be turned into gold?" midas began to get very anxious and to think about many things he had never thought of before. here was the very richest breakfast that could be set before a king, and yet there was nothing that he could eat! the poorest workman sitting down to a crust of bread and a cup of water was better off than king midas, whose dainty food was worth its weight in gold. he began to doubt whether, after all, riches were the only good thing in the world, and he was so hungry that he gave a groan. his little daughter noticed that her father ate nothing, and at first she sat still looking at him and trying to find out what was the matter. then she got down from her chair, and running to her father, she threw her arms lovingly round his knees. midas bent down and kissed her. he felt that his little daughter's love was a thousand times more precious than all the gold he had gained since the stranger came to visit him. "my precious, precious little girl!" he said, but there was no answer. alas! what had he done? the moment that his lips had touched his child's forehead, a change took place. her sweet, rosy face, so full of love and happiness, hardened and became a glittering yellow color; her beautiful brown curls hung like wires of gold from the small head, and her soft, tender little figure grew stiff in his arms. midas had often said to people that his little daughter was worth her weight in gold, and it had become really true. now when it was too late, he felt how much more precious was the warm tender heart that loved him than all the gold that could be piled up between the earth and sky. he began to wring his hands and to wish that he was the poorest man in the wide world, if the loss of all his money might bring back the rosy color to his dear child's face. while he was in despair he suddenly saw a stranger standing near the door, the same visitor he had seen yesterday for the first time in his treasure-room, and who had granted his wish. "well, friend midas," he said, "pray how are you enjoying your new power?" midas shook his head. "i am very miserable," he said. "very miserable, are you?" exclaimed the stranger. "and how does that happen: have i not faithfully kept my promise; have you not everything that your heart desired?" "gold is not everything," answered midas, "and i have lost all that my heart really cared for." "ah!" said the stranger, "i see you have made some discoveries since yesterday. tell me truly, which of these things do you really think is most worth--a cup of clear cold water and a crust of bread, or the power of turning everything you touch into gold; your own little daughter, alive and loving, or that solid statue of a child which would be valued at thousands of dollars?" "o my child, my child!" sobbed midas, wringing his hands. "i would not have given one of her curls for the power of changing all the world into gold, and i would give all i possess for a cup of cold water and a crust of bread." "you are wiser than you were, king midas," said the stranger. "tell me, do you really wish to get rid of your fatal gift?" "yes," said midas, "it is hateful to me." "go then," said the stranger, "and plunge into the river that flows at the bottom of the garden: take also a pitcher of the same water, and sprinkle it over anything that you wish to change back again from gold to its former substance." king midas bowed low, and when he lifted his head the stranger was nowhere to be seen. you may easily believe that king midas lost no time in getting a big pitcher, then he ran towards the river. on reaching the water he jumped in without even waiting to take off his shoes. "how delightful!" he said, as he came out with his hair all dripping, "this is really a most refreshing bath, and surely it must have washed away the magic gift." then he dipped the pitcher into the water, and how glad he was to see that it became just a common earthen pitcher and not a golden one as it had been five minutes before! he was conscious, also of a change in himself: a cold, heavy weight seemed to have gone, and he felt light, and happy, and human once more. maybe his heart had been changing into gold too, though he could not see it, and now it had softened again and become gentle and kind. midas hurried back to the palace with the pitcher of water, and the first thing he did was to sprinkle it by handfuls all over the golden figure of his little daughter. you would have laughed to see how the rosy color came back to her cheeks, and how she began to sneeze and choke, and how surprised she was to find herself dripping wet and her father still throwing water over her. you see she did not know that she had been a little golden statue, for she could not remember anything from the moment when she ran to kiss her father. king midas then led his daughter into the garden, where he sprinkled all the rest of the water over the rose-bushes, and the grass, and the trees; and in a minute they were blooming as freshly as ever, and the air was laden with the scent of the flowers. there were two things left, which, as long as he lived, used to remind king midas of the stranger's fatal gift. one was that the sands at the bottom of the river always sparkled like grains of gold: and the other, that his little daughter's curls were no longer brown. they had a golden tinge which had not been there before that miserable day when he had received the fatal gift, and when his kiss had changed them into gold. cadmus adapted by c.e. smith cadmus, phoenix, and cilix, the three sons of king agenor, were playing near the seashore in their father's kingdom of phoenicia, and their little sister europa was beside them. they had wandered to some distance from the king's palace and were now in a green field, on one side of which lay the sea, sparkling brightly in the sunshine, and with little waves breaking on the shore. the three boys were very happy gathering flowers and making wreaths for their sister europa. the little girl was almost hidden under the flowers and leaves, and her rosy face peeped merrily out among them. she was really the prettiest flower of them all. while they were busy and happy, a beautiful butterfly came flying past, and the three boys, crying out that it was a flower with wings, set off to try to catch it. europa did not run after them. she was a little tired with playing all day long, so she sat still on the green grass and very soon she closed her eyes. for a time she listened to the sea, which sounded, she thought, just like a voice saying, "hush, hush," and telling her to go to sleep. but if she slept at all it was only for a minute. then she heard something tramping on the grass and, when she looked up, there was a snow-white bull quite close to her! where could he have come from? europa was very frightened, and she started up from among the tulips and lilies and cried out, "cadmus, brother cadmus, where are you? come and drive this bull away." but her brother was too far off to hear her, and europa was so frightened that her voice did not sound very loud; so there she stood with her blue eyes big with fear, and her pretty red mouth wide open, and her face as pale as the lilies that were lying on her golden hair. as the bull did not touch her she began to peep at him, and she saw that he was a very beautiful animal; she even fancied he looked quite a kind bull. he had soft, tender, brown eyes, and horns as smooth and white as ivory: and when he breathed you could feel the scent of rosebuds and clover blossoms in the air. the bull ran little races round europa and allowed her to stroke his forehead with her small hands, and to hang wreaths of flowers on his horns. he was just like a pet lamb, and very soon europa quite forgot how big and strong he really was and how frightened she had been. she pulled some grass and he ate it out of her hand and seemed quite pleased to be friends. he ran up and down the field as lightly as a bird hopping in a tree; his hoofs scarcely seemed to touch the grass, and once when he galloped a good long way europa was afraid she would not see him again, and she called out, "come back, you dear bull, i have got you a pink clover-blossom." then he came running and bowed his head before europa as if he knew she was a king's daughter, and knelt down at her feet, inviting her to get on his back and have a ride. at first europa was afraid: then she thought there could surely be no danger in having just one ride on the back of such a gentle animal, and the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to go. what a surprise it would be to cadmus, and phoenix, and cilix if they met her riding across the green field, and what fun it would be if they could all four ride round and round the field on the back of this beautiful white bull that was so tame and kind! "i think i will do it," she said, and she looked round the field. cadmus and his brothers were still chasing the butterfly away at the far end. "if i got on the bull's back i should soon be beside them," she thought. so she moved nearer, and the gentle white creature looked so pleased, and so kind, she could not resist any longer, and with a light bound she sprang up on his back: and there she sat holding an ivory horn in each hand to keep her steady. "go very gently, good bull," she said, and the animal gave a little leap in the air and came down as lightly as a feather. then he began a race to that part of the field where the brothers were, and where they had just caught the splendid butterfly. europa shouted with delight, and how surprised the brothers were to see their sister mounted on the back of a white bull! they stood with their mouths wide open, not sure whether to be frightened or not. but the bull played round them as gently as a kitten, and europa looked down all rosy and laughing, and they were quite envious. then when he turned to take another gallop round the field, europa waved her hand and called out "good-by," as if she was off for a journey, and cadmus, phoenix, and cilix shouted "good-by" all in one breath. they all thought it such good fun. and then, what do you think happened? the white bull set off as quickly as before, and ran straight down to the seashore. he scampered across the sand, then he took a big leap and plunged right in among the waves. the white spray rose in a shower all over him and europa, and the poor child screamed with fright. the brothers ran as fast as they could to the edge of the water, but it was too late. the white bull swam very fast and was soon far away in the wide blue sea, with only his snowy head and tail showing above the water. poor europa was holding on with one hand to the ivory horn and stretching the other back towards her dear brothers. and there stood cadmus and phoenix and cilix looking after her and crying bitterly, until they could no longer see the white head among the waves that sparkled in the sunshine. nothing more could be seen of the white bull, and nothing more of their beautiful sister. this was a sad tale for the three boys to carry back to their parents. king agenor loved his little girl europa more than his kingdom or anything else in the world, and when cadmus came home crying and told how a white bull had carried off his sister, the king was very angry and full of grief. "you shall never see my face again," he cried, "unless you bring back my little europa. begone, and enter my presence no more till you come leading her by the hand;" and his eyes flashed fire and he looked so terribly angry that the poor boys did not even wait for supper, but stole out of the palace wondering where they should go first. while they were standing at the gate, the queen came hurrying after them. "dear children," she said, "i will come with you." "oh no, mother," the boys answered, "it is a dark night, and there is no knowing what troubles we may meet with; the blame is ours, and we had better go alone." "alas!" said the poor queen, weeping, "europa is lost, and if i should lose my three sons as well, what would become of me? i must go with my children." the boys tried to persuade her to stay at home, but the queen cried so bitterly that they had to let her go with them. just as they were about to start, their playfellow theseus came running to join them. he loved europa very much, and longed to search for her too. so the five set off together: the queen, and cadmus, and phoenix, and cilix, and theseus, and the last they heard was king agenor's angry voice saying, "remember this, never may you come up these steps again, till you bring back my little daughter." the queen and her young companions traveled many a weary mile: the days grew to months, and the months became years, and still they found no trace of the lost princess. their clothes were worn and shabby, and the peasant people looked curiously at them when they asked, "have you seen a snow-white bull with a little princess on its back, riding as swiftly as the wind?" and the farmers would answer, "we have many bulls in our fields, but none that would allow a little princess to ride on its back: we have never seen such a sight." at last phoenix grew weary of the search. "i do not believe europa will ever be found, and i shall stay here," he said one day when they came to a pleasant spot. so the others helped him to build a small hut to live in, then they said good-by and went on without him. then cilix grew tired too. "it is so many years now since europa was carried away that she would not know me if i found her. i shall wait here," he said. so cadmus and theseus built a hut for him too, and then said good-by. after many long months theseus broke his ankle, and he too had to be left behind, and once more the queen and cadmus wandered on to continue the search. the poor queen was worn and sad, and she leaned very heavily on her son's arm. "cadmus," she said one day, "i must stay and rest." "why, yes, mother, of course you shall, a long, long rest you must have, and i will sit beside you and watch." but the queen knew she could go no further. "cadmus," she said, "you must leave me here, and, go to the wise woman at delphi and ask her what you must do next. promise me you will go!" and cadmus promised. the tired queen lay down to rest, and in the morning cadmus found that she was dead, and he must journey on alone. he wandered for many days till he came in sight of a high mountain which the people told him was called parnassus, and on the steep side of this mountain was the famous city of delphi for which he was looking. the wise woman lived far up the mountain-side, in a hut like those he had helped his brothers to build by the roadside. when he pushed aside the branches he found himself in a low cave, with a hole in the wall through which a strong wind was blowing. he bent down and put his mouth to the hole and said, "o sacred goddess, tell me where i must look now for my dear sister europa, who was carried off so long ago by a bull?" at first there was no answer. then a voice said softly, three times, "seek her no more, seek her no more, seek her no more." "what shall i do, then?" said cadmus. and the answer came, in a hoarse voice, "follow the cow, follow the cow, follow the cow." "but what cow," cried cadmus, "and where shall i follow?" and once more the voice came, "where the stray cow lies down, there is your home;" and then there was silence. "have i been dreaming?" cadmus thought, "or did i really hear a voice?" and he went away thinking he was very little wiser for having done as the queen had told him. i do not know how far he had gone when just before him he saw a brindled cow. she was lying down by the wayside, and as cadmus came along she got up and began to move slowly along the path, stopping now and then to crop a mouthful of grass. cadmus wondered if this could be the cow he was to follow, and he thought he would look at her more closely, so he walked a little faster; but so did the cow. "stop, cow," he cried, "hey brindle, stop," and he began to run; and much to his surprise so did the cow, and though he ran as hard as possible, he could not overtake her. so he gave it up. "i do believe this may be the cow i was told about," he thought. "any way, i may as well follow her and surely she will lie down somewhere." on and on they went. cadmus thought the cow would never stop, and other people who had heard the strange story began to follow too, and they were all very tired and very far away from home when at last the cow lay down. his companions were delighted and began to cut down wood to make a fire, and some ran to a stream to get water. cadmus lay down to rest close beside the cow. he was wishing that his mother and brothers and theseus had been with him now, when suddenly he was startled by cries and shouts and screams. he ran towards the stream, and there he saw the head of a big serpent or dragon, with fiery eyes and with wide open jaws which showed rows and rows of horrible sharp teeth. before cadmus could reach it, the monster had killed all his poor companions and was busy devouring them. the stream was an enchanted one, and the dragon had been told to guard it so that no mortal might ever touch the water, and the people round about knew this, so that for a hundred years none of them had ever come near the spot. the dragon had been asleep and was very hungry, and when he saw cadmus he opened his huge jaws again, ready to devour him too. but cadmus was very angry at the death of all his companions, and drawing his sword he rushed at the monster. with one big bound he leaped right into the dragon's mouth, so far down that the two rows of terrible teeth could not close on him or do him any harm. the dragon lashed with his tail furiously, but cadmus stabbed him again and again, and in a short time the great monster lay dead. "what shall i do now?" he said aloud. all his companions were dead, and he was alone once more. "cadmus," said a voice, "pluck out the dragon's teeth and plant them in the earth." cadmus looked round and there was nobody to be seen. but he set to work and cut out the huge teeth with his sword, and then he made little holes in the ground and planted the teeth. in a few minutes the earth was covered with rows of armed men, fierce-looking soldiers with swords and helmets who stood looking at cadmus in silence. "throw a stone among these men," came the voice again, and cadmus obeyed. at once all the men began to fight, and they cut and stabbed each other so furiously that in a short time only five remained alive out of all the hundreds that had stood before him. "cadmus," said the voice once more, "tell these men to stop fighting and help you to build a palace." and as soon as cadmus spoke, the five big men sheathed their swords, and they began to carry stones, and to carve these for cadmus, as if they had never thought of such a thing as fighting each other! they built a house for each of themselves, and there was a beautiful palace for cadmus made of marble, and of fine kinds of red and green stone, and there was a high tower with a flag floating from a tall gold flag-post. when everything was ready, cadmus went to take possession of his new house, and, as he entered the great hall, he saw a lady coming slowly towards him. she was very lovely and she wore a royal robe which shone like sunbeams, with a crown of stars on her golden hair, and round her neck was a string of the fairest pearls. cadmus was full of delight. could this be his long lost sister europa coming to make him happy after all these weary years of searching and wandering? how much he had to tell her about phoenix, and cilix, and dear theseus and of the poor queen's lonely grave in the wilderness! but as he went forward to meet the beautiful lady he saw she was a stranger. he was thinking what he should say to her, when once again he heard the unknown voice speak. "no, cadmus," it said, "this is not your dear sister whom you have sought so faithfully all over the wide world. this is harmonia, a daughter of the sky, who is given to you instead of sister and brother, and friend and mother. she is your queen, and will make happy the home which you have won by so much suffering." so king cadmus lived in the palace with his beautiful queen, and before many years passed there were rosy little children playing in the great hall, and on the marble steps of the palace, and running joyfully to meet king cadmus as he came home from looking after his soldiers and his workmen. and the five old soldiers that sprang from the dragon's teeth grew very fond of these little children, and they were never tired of showing them how to play with wooden swords and to blow on a penny trumpet, and beat a drum and march like soldiers to battle. proserpina adapted by c.e. smith mother ceres was very fond of her little daughter proserpina. she did not of ten let her go alone into the fields for fear she should be lost. but just at the time when my story begins she was very busy. she had to look after the wheat and the corn, and the apples and the pears, all over the world, and as the weather had been bad day after day she was afraid none of them would be ripe when harvest-time came. so this morning mother ceres put on her turban made of scarlet poppies and got into her car. this car was drawn by a pair of winged dragons which went very fast, and mother ceres was just ready to start, when proserpina said, "dear mother, i shall be very lonely while you are away, may i run down to the sands, and ask some of the sea-children to come out of the water to play with me?" "yes, child, you may," answered mother ceres, "but you must take care not to stray away from them, and you are not to play in the fields by yourself with no one to take care of you." proserpina promised to remember what her mother said, and by the time the dragons with their big wings had whirled the car out of sight she was already on the shore, calling to the sea-children to come to play with her. they knew proserpina's voice and came at once: pretty children with wavy sea-green hair and shining faces, and they sat down on the wet sand where the waves could still break over them, and began to make a necklace for proserpina of beautiful shells brought from their home at the bottom of the sea. proserpina was so delighted when they hung the necklace round her neck that she wanted to give them something in return. "will you come with me into the fields," she asked, "and i will gather flowers and make you each a wreath?" "oh no, dear proserpina," said the sea-children, "we may not go with you on the dry land. we must keep close beside the sea and let the waves wash over us every minute or two. if it were not for the salt water we should soon look like bunches of dried sea-weed instead of sea-children." "that is a great pity," said proserpina, "but if you wait for me here, i will run to the fields and be back again with my apron full of flowers before the waves have broken over you ten times. i long to make you some wreaths as beautiful as this necklace with all its colored shells." "we will wait, then," said the sea-children: "we will lie under the water and pop up our heads every few minutes to see if you are coming." proserpina ran quickly to a field where only the day before she had seen a great many flowers; but the first she came to seemed rather faded, and forgetting what mother ceres had told her, she strayed a little farther into the fields. never before had she found such beautiful flowers! large sweet-scented violets, purple and white; deep pink roses; hyacinths with the biggest of blue bells; as well as many others she did not know. they seemed to grow up under her feet, and soon her apron was so full that the flowers were falling out of the corners. proserpina was just going to turn back to the sands to make the wreaths for the sea-children, when she cried out with delight. before her was a bush covered with the most wonderful flowers in the world. "what beauties!" said proserpina, and then she thought, "how strange! i looked at that spot only a moment ago; why did i not see the flowers?" they were such lovely ones too. more than a hundred different kinds grew on the one bush: the brightest, gayest flowers proserpina had ever seen. but there was a shiny look about them and about the leaves which she did not quite like. somehow it made her wonder if this was a poison plant, and to tell the truth she was half inclined to turn round and run away. "how silly i am!" she thought, taking courage: "it is really the most beautiful bush i ever saw. i will pull it up by the roots and carry it home to plant in mother's garden." holding her apron full of flowers with one hand, proserpina seized the large shrub with the other and pulled and pulled. what deep roots that bush had! she pulled again with all her might, and the earth round the roots began to stir and crack, so she gave another big pull, and then she let go. she thought there was a rumbling noise right below her feet, and she wondered if the roots went down to some dragon's cave. then she tried once again, and up came the bush so quickly that proserpina nearly fell backwards. there she stood, holding the stem in her hand and looking at the big hole which its roots had left in the earth. to her surprise this hole began to grow wider and wider, and deeper and deeper, and a rumbling noise came out of it. louder and louder it grew, nearer and nearer it came, just like the tramp of horses' feet and the rattling of wheels. proserpina was too frightened now to run away, and soon she saw a wonderful thing. two black horses, with smoke coming out of their nostrils and with long black tails and flowing black manes, came tearing their way out of the earth, and a splendid golden chariot was rattling at their heels. the horses leaped out of the hole, chariot and all, and came close to the spot where proserpina stood. then she saw there was a man in the chariot. he was very richly dressed, with a crown on his head all made of diamonds which sparkled like fire. he was a very handsome man, but looked rather cross and discontented, and he kept rubbing his eyes and covering them with his hand, as if he did not care much for the bright sunshine. as soon as he saw proserpina, the man waved to her to come a little nearer. "do not be afraid," he said. "come! would you not like to ride a little way with me in my beautiful chariot?" but proserpina was very frightened, and no wonder. the stranger did not look a very kind or pleasant man. his voice was so gruff and deep, and sounded just like the rumbling proserpina had heard underneath the earth. she at once began to cry out, "mother, mother! o mother ceres, come quickly and save me!" [illustration: he caught her in his arms and sprang into the chariot.] but her voice was very shaky and too faint for mother ceres to hear, for by this time she was many thousands of miles away making the corn grow in another country. no sooner did proserpina begin to cry out than the strange man leaped to the ground; he caught her in his arms and sprang into the chariot, then he shook the reins and shouted to the two black horses to set off. they began to gallop so fast that it was just like flying, and in less than a minute proserpina had lost sight of the sunny fields where she and her mother had always lived. she screamed and screamed and all the beautiful flowers fell out of her apron to the ground. but mother ceres was too far away to know what was happening to her little daughter. "why are you so frightened, my little girl?" said the strange man, and he tried to soften his rough voice. "i promise not to do you any harm. i see you have been gathering flowers? wait till we come to my palace and i will give you a garden full of prettier flowers than these, all made of diamonds and pearls and rubies. can you guess who i am? they call me pluto, and i am the king of the mines where all the diamonds and rubies and all the gold and silver are found: they all belong to me. do you see this lovely crown on my head? i will let you have it to play with. oh, i think we are going to be very good friends when we get out of this troublesome sunshine." "let me go home," sobbed proserpina, "let me go home." "my home is better than your mother's," said king pluto. "it is a palace made of gold, with crystal windows and with diamond lamps instead of sunshine; and there is a splendid throne; if you like you may sit on it and be my little queen, and i will sit on the footstool." "i do not care for golden palaces and thrones," sobbed proserpina. "o mother, mother! take me back to my mother." but king pluto only shouted to his horses to go faster. "you are very foolish, proserpina," he said, rather crossly. "i am doing all i can to make you happy, and i want very much to have a merry little girl to run upstairs and downstairs in my palace and make it brighter with her laughter. this is all i ask you to do for king pluto." "never" answered proserpina, looking very miserable. "i shall never laugh again, till you take me back to my mother's cottage." and the horses galloped on, and the wind whistled past the chariot, and proserpina cried and cried till her poor little voice was almost cried away, and nothing was left but a whisper. the road now began to get very dull and gloomy. on each side were black rocks and very thick trees and bushes that looked as if they never got any sunshine. it got darker and darker, as if night was coming, and still the black horses rushed on leaving the sunny home of mother ceres far behind. but the darker it grew, the happier king pluto seemed to be. proserpina began to peep at him, she thought he might not be such a wicked man after all. "is it much further," she asked, "and will you carry me back when i have seen your palace?" "we will talk of that by and by," answered pluto. "do you see these big gates? when we pass these we are at home; and look! there is my faithful dog at the door! cerberus; cerberus, come here, good dog." pluto pulled the horses' reins, and the chariot stopped between two big tall pillars. the dog got up and stood on his hind legs, so that he could put his paws on the chariot wheel. what a strange dog he was! a big, rough, ugly-looking monster, with three heads each fiercer than the other. king pluto patted his heads and the dog wagged his tail with delight. proserpina was much afraid when she saw that his tail was a live dragon, with fiery eyes and big poisonous teeth. "will the dog bite me?" she asked, creeping closer to king pluto. "how very ugly he is." "oh, never fear," pluto answered; "he never bites people unless they try to come in here when i do not want them. down, cerberus. now, proserpina, we will drive on." the black horses started again and king pluto seemed very happy to find himself once more at home. all along the road proserpina could see diamonds, and rubies and precious stones sparkling, and there were bits of real gold among the rocks. it was a very rich place. not far from the gateway they came to an iron bridge. pluto stopped the chariot and told proserpina to look at the river which ran underneath. it was very black and muddy, and flowed slowly, very slowly, as if it had quite forgotten which way it wanted to go, and was in no hurry to flow anywhere. "this is the river lethe," said king pluto; "do you not think it a very pleasant stream?" "i think it is very dismal," said proserpina. "well, i like it," answered pluto, who got rather cross when any one did not agree with him. "it is a strange kind of river. if you drink only a little sip of the water, you will at once forget all your care and sorrow. when we reach the palace, you shall have some in a golden cup, and then you will not cry any more for your mother, and will be perfectly happy with me." "oh no, oh no!" said proserpina, sobbing again. "o mother, mother, i will never forget you; i do not want to be happy by forgetting all about you." "we shall see," said king pluto; "you do not know what good times we will have in my palace. here we are, just at the gate. look at the big pillars; they are all made of solid gold." he got out of the chariot and carried proserpina in his arms up a long stair into the great hall of the palace. it was beautifully lit by hundreds of diamonds and rubies which shone like lamps. it was very rich and splendid to look at, but it was cold and lonely and pluto must have longed for some one to keep him company; perhaps that was why he had stolen proserpina from her sunny home. king pluto sent for his servants and told them to get ready a grand supper with all kinds of dainty food and sweet things such as children like. "and be sure not to forget a golden cup filled with the water of lethe," he said to the servant. "i will not eat anything," said proserpina, "nor drink a single drop, even if you keep me for ever in your palace." "i should be sorry for that," replied king pluto. he really wished to be kind if he had only known how. "wait till you see the nice things my cook will make for you, and then you will be hungry." now king pluto had a secret reason why he wanted proserpina to eat some food. you must understand that when people are carried off to the land of magic, if once they taste any food they can never go back to their friends. if king pluto had offered proserpina some bread and milk she would very likely have taken it as soon as she was hungry, but all the cook's fine pastries and sweets were things she had never seen at home, and, instead of making her hungry, she was afraid to touch them. but now my story must leave king pluto's palace, and we must see what mother ceres has been about. you remember she had gone off in her chariot with the winged dragons to the other side of the world to see how the corn and fruit were growing. and while she was busy in a field she thought she heard proserpina's voice calling her. she was sure her little daughter could not possibly be anywhere near, but the idea troubled her: and presently she left the fields before her work was half done and, ordering her dragons with the chariot, she drove off. in less than an hour mother ceres got down at the door of her cottage. it was empty! at first she thought "oh, proserpina will still be playing on the shore with the sea-children." so she went to find her. "where is proserpina, you naughty sea-children?" she asked; "tell me, have you taken her to your home under the sea?" "oh no, mother ceres," they said, "she left us early in the day to gather flowers for a wreath, and we have seen nothing of her since." ceres hurried off to ask all the neighbors. a poor fisherman had seen her little footprints in the sand as he went home with his basket of fish. a man in the fields had noticed her gathering flowers. several persons had heard the rattling of chariot wheels or the rumbling of distant thunder: and one old woman had heard a scream, but supposed it was only merriment, and had not even looked up. none of the neighbors knew where proserpina was, and mother ceres decided she must seek her daughter further from home. by this time it was night, so she lit a torch and set off, telling the neighbors she would never come back till proserpina was found. in her hurry she quite forgot her chariot with the dragons; may be she thought she could search better on foot. so she started on her sad journey, holding her torch in front of her, and looking carefully along every road and round every corner. she had not gone very far before she found one of the wonderful flowers which proserpina had pulled from the poison bush. "ha!" said mother ceres, examining it carefully, "there is mischief in this flower: it did not grow in the earth by any help of mine; it is the work of magic, and perhaps it has poisoned my poor child." and she hid it in her bosom. all night long ceres sought for her daughter. she knocked at the doors of farm-houses where the people were all asleep, and they came to see who was there, rubbing their eyes and yawning. they were very sorry for the poor mother when they heard her tale--but they knew nothing about proserpina. at every palace door, too, she knocked, so loudly that the servants ran quickly, expecting to find a great queen, and when they saw only a sad lonely woman with a burning torch in her hand, and a wreath of withered poppies on her head, they were angry and drove her rudely away. but nobody had seen proserpina, and mother ceres wandered about till the night was passed, without sitting down to rest, and without taking any food. she did not even remember to put out her torch, and it looked very pale and small in the bright morning sunshine. it must have been a magic torch, for it burned dimly all day, and then when night came it shone with a beautiful red light, and neither the wind nor the rain put it out through all these weary days while ceres sought for proserpina. it was not only men and women that mother ceres questioned about her daughter. in the woods and by the streams she met other creatures whose way of talking she could understand, and who knew many things that we have never learned. sometimes she tapped with her finger against an oak tree, and at once its rough bark would open and a beautiful maiden would appear: she was the spirit of the oak, living inside it, and as happy as could be when its green leaves danced in the breeze. then another time ceres would find a spring bubbling out of a little hole in the earth, and she would play with her fingers in the water. immediately up through the sandy bed a nymph with dripping hair would rise and float half out of the water, looking at mother ceres, and swaying up and down with the water bubbles. but when the mother asked whether her poor lost child had stopped to drink of the fountain, the nymph with weeping eyes would answer "no," in a murmuring voice which was just like the sound of a running stream. often, too, she met fauns. these were little people with brown faces who looked as if they had played a great deal in the sun. they had hairy ears and little horns on their brows, and their legs were like goats' legs on which they danced merrily about the woods and fields. they were very kind creatures, and were very sorry for mother ceres when they heard that her daughter was lost. and once she met a rude band of satyrs who had faces like monkeys and who had horses' tails behind; they were dancing and shouting in a rough, noisy manner, and they only laughed when ceres told them how unhappy she was. one day while she was crossing a lonely sheep-field she saw the god pan: he was sitting at the foot of a tall rock, making music on a shepherd's flute. he too had horns on his brow, and hairy ears, and goat's feet. he knew mother ceres and answered her questions kindly, and he gave her some milk and honey to drink out of a wooden bowl. but he knew nothing of proserpina. and so mother ceres went wandering about for nine long days and nights. now and then she found a withered flower, and these she picked up and put in her bosom, because she fancied they might have fallen from her daughter's hand. all day she went on through the hot sunshine, and at night the flame of her torch would gleam on the pathway, and she would continue her weary search without ever sitting down to rest. on the tenth day she came to the mouth of a cave. it was dark inside, but a torch was burning dimly and lit up half of the gloomy place. ceres peeped in and held up her own torch before her, and then she saw what looked like a woman, sitting on a heap of withered leaves, which the wind had blown into the cave. she was a very strange-looking woman: her head was shaped like a dog's, and round it she had a wreath of snakes. as soon as she saw her, mother ceres knew that this was a queer kind of person who was always grumbling and unhappy. her name was hecate, and she would never say a word to other people unless they were unhappy too. "i am sad enough," thought poor ceres, "to talk with hecate:" so she stepped into the cave and sat down on the withered leaves beside the dog-headed woman. "o hecate," she said, "if ever you lose a daughter you will know what sorrow is. tell me, for pity's sake, have you seen my poor child proserpina pass by the mouth of your cave?" "no, mother ceres," answered hecate. "i have seen nothing of your daughter. but my ears, you know, are made so that all cries of distress or fright all over the world are heard by them. and nine days ago, as i sat in my cave, i heard the voice of a young girl sobbing as if in great distress. as well as i could judge, some dragon was carrying her away." "you kill me by saying so," cried mother ceres, almost ready to faint; "where was the sound, and which way did it seem to go?" "it passed along very quickly," said hecate, "and there was a rumbling of wheels to the eastward. i cannot tell you any more. i advise you just to come and live here with me, and we will be the two most unhappy women in all the world." "not yet, dark hecate," replied ceres. "will you first come with your torch and help me to seek for my child. when there is no more hope of finding her, then i will come back with you to your dark cave. but till i know that proserpina is dead, i will not allow myself time to sorrow." hecate did not much like the idea of going abroad into the sunshine, but at last she agreed to go, and they set out together, each carrying a torch, although it was broad daylight and the sun was shining. any people they met ran away without waiting to be spoken to, as soon as they caught sight of hecate's wreath of snakes. as the sad pair wandered on, a thought struck ceres. "there is one person," she exclaimed, "who must have seen my child and can tell me what has become of her. why did i not think of him sooner? it is phoebus." "what!" said hecate, "the youth that always sits in the sunshine! oh! pray do not think of going near him: he is a gay young fellow that will only smile in your face. and, besides, there is such a glare of sunshine about him that he will quite blind my poor eyes, which are weak with so much weeping." "you have promised to be my companion," answered ceres. "come, let us make haste, or the sunshine will be gone and phoebus along with it." so they set off in search of phoebus, both sighing a great deal, and after a long journey they came to the sunniest spot in the whole world. there they saw a young man with curly golden hair which seemed to be made of sunbeams. his clothes were like light summer clouds, and the smile on his face was so bright that hecate held her hands before her eyes and muttered that she wished he would wear a veil! phoebus had a lyre in his hands and was playing very sweet music, at the same time singing a merry song. as ceres and her dismal companion came near, phoebus smiled on them so cheerfully that hecate's wreath of snakes gave a spiteful hiss and hecate wished she was back in her dark cave. but ceres was too unhappy to know whether phoebus smiled or looked angry. "phoebus" she said, "i am in great trouble and have come to you for help. can you tell me what has become of my little daughter proserpina?" "proserpina, proserpina did you call her?" answered phoebus, trying to remember. he had so many pleasant ideas in his head that he sometimes forgot what had happened no longer ago than yesterday. "ah yes! i remember now--a very lovely little girl. i am happy to tell you that i did see proserpina not many days ago. you may be quite easy about her. she is safe and in good hands." "oh, where is my dear child?" cried ceres, clasping her hands and flinging herself at his feet. "why," replied phoebus, "as the little girl was gathering flowers she was snatched up by king pluto and carried off to his kingdom. i have never been there myself, but i am told the royal palace is splendidly built. proserpina will have gold and silver and diamonds to play with, and i am sure even although there is no sunshine, she will have a very happy life." "hush! do not say such a thing," said ceres. "what has she got to love? what are all these splendors if she has no one to care for? i must have her back. good phoebus, will you come with me to demand my daughter from this wicked pluto?" "pray excuse me," answered phoebus, with a bow. "i certainly wish you success, and i am sorry i am too busy to go with you. besides, king pluto does not care much for me. to tell you the truth, his dog with the three heads would never let me pass the gateway. i always carry a handful of sunbeams with me, and those, you know, are not allowed within king pluto's kingdom." so the poor mother said good-by and hastened away along with hecate. ceres had now found out what had become of her daughter, but she was not any happier than before. indeed, her trouble seemed worse than ever. so long as proserpina was above-ground there was some hope of getting her home again. but now that the poor child was shut up behind king pluto's iron gates, with the three-headed cerberus on guard beside them, there seemed no hope of her escape. the dismal hecate, who always looked on the darkest side of things, told ceres she had better come back with her to the cave and spend the rest of her life in being miserable. but ceres answered that hecate could go back if she wished, but that for her part she would wander about all the world looking for the entrance to king pluto's kingdom. so hecate hurried off alone to her beloved cave, frightening a great many little children with her dog's face as she went. poor mother ceres! it is sad to think of her all alone, holding up her never-dying torch and wandering up and down the wide, wide world. so much did she suffer that in a very short time she began to look quite old. she wandered about with her hair hanging down her back, and she looked so wild that people took her for some poor mad woman, and never thought that this was mother ceres who took care of every seed which was sown in the ground and of all the fruit and flowers. now she gave herself no trouble about seedtime or harvest; there was nothing in which she seemed to feel any interest, except the children she saw at play or gathering flowers by the wayside. then, indeed, she would stand and look at them with tears in her eyes. and the children seemed to understand her sorrow and would gather in a little group about her knees and look up lovingly into her face, and ceres, after giving them a kiss all round, would lead them home and advise their mothers never to let them stray out of sight. "for if they do," said she, "it may happen to you as it has happened to me: the iron-hearted king pluto may take a liking to your darlings and carry them away in his golden chariot." at last, in her despair, ceres made up her mind that not a stalk of grain, nor a blade of grass, not a potato, nor a turnip, nor any vegetable that is good for man or beast, should be allowed to grow till her daughter was sent back. she was so unhappy that she even forbade the flowers to bloom. now you can see what a terrible misfortune had fallen on the earth. the farmer plowed the ground and planted his seed, as usual, and there lay the black earth without a single green blade to be seen. the fields looked as brown in the sunny months of spring as ever they did in winter. the rich man's garden and the flower-plot in front of the laborer's cottage were both empty; even the children's gardens showed nothing but withered stalks. it was very sad to see the poor starving sheep and cattle that followed behind ceres, bleating and lowing as if they knew that she could help them. all the people begged her at least to let the grass grow, but mother ceres was too miserable to care for any one's trouble. "never," she said. "if the earth is ever to be green again, it must grow along the path by which my daughter comes back to me." at last, as there seemed to be no other way out of it, mercury, the favorite messenger of the gods, was sent to king pluto in the hope that he would set everything right again by giving up proserpina. mercury went as quickly as he could to the great iron gates, and with the help of the wings on his shoes, he took a flying leap right over cerberus with his three heads, and very soon he stood at the door of king pluto's palace. the servants all knew him, as he had often been there in his short cloak, and cap, and shoes with the wings, and with his curious staff which had two snakes twisted round it. he asked to see the king immediately, and pluto, who had heard his voice from the top of the stairs, called out to him to come up at once, for he was always glad to listen to mercury's cheery talk. and while they are laughing together we must find out what proserpina had been doing since we last heard about her. you will remember that proserpina had said she would not taste food so long as she was kept a prisoner in king pluto's palace. it was now six months since she had been carried off from her home, and not a mouthful had she eaten, not even when the cook had made all kinds of sweet things and had ordered all the dainties which children usually like best. proserpina was naturally a bright, merry little girl, and all this time she was not so unhappy as you may have thought. in the big palace were a thousand rooms, and each was full of wonderful and beautiful things. it is true there was never any sunshine in these rooms, and proserpina used to fancy that the shadowy light which came from the jeweled lamps was alive: it seemed to float before her as she walked between the golden pillars, and to close softly behind her in the echo of her footsteps. and proserpina knew that all the glitter of these precious stones was not worth a single sunbeam, nor could the rubies and emeralds which she played with ever be as dear to her as the daisies and buttercups she had gathered among the soft green grass. king pluto felt how much happier his palace was since proserpina came, and so did all his servants. they loved to hear her childish voice laughing as she ran from room to room, and they felt less old and tired when they saw again how glad little children can be. "my own little proserpina," king pluto used to say, "i wish you would like me a little better. although i look rather a sad man, i am really fond of children, and if you would stay here with me always, it would make me happier than having hundreds of palaces like this." "ah," said proserpina, "you should have tried to make me like you first before carrying me off, and now the best thing you can do is to let me go again; then i might remember you sometimes and think that you were as kind as you knew how to be. perhaps i might come back to pay you a visit one day." "no, no," answered pluto, with his gloomy smile, "i will not trust you for that. you are too fond of living in the sunshine and gathering flowers. what an idle, childish thing to do! do you not think that these diamonds which i have had dug out of the mine for you are far prettier than violets?" "no, oh no! not half so pretty," said proserpina, snatching them from pluto's hand, and flinging them to the other end of the room. "o my sweet purple violets, shall i ever see you again?" and she began to cry bitterly. but like most children, she soon stopped crying, and in a short time she was running up and down the rooms as when she had played on the sands with the sea-children. and king pluto, sad and lonely, watched her and wished that he too was a child, and when proserpina turned and saw the great king standing alone in his splendid hall, so grand and so lonely, with no one to love him, she felt sorry for him. she ran back and for the first time in all those six months she put her small hand in his. "i love you a little," she whispered, looking up into his face. "do you really, dear child?" cried pluto, bending down his dark face to kiss her. but proserpina was a little afraid, he was so dark and severe-looking, and she shrank back. "well," said pluto, "it is just what i deserve after keeping you a prisoner all these months, and starving you besides. are you not dreadfully hungry, is there nothing i can get you to eat?" in asking this pluto was very cunning, as you will remember that if proserpina once tasted any food in his kingdom, she would never again be able to go home. "no, indeed," said proserpina. "your poor fat little cook is always making me all kinds of good things which i do not want. the one thing i should like to eat would be a slice of bread baked by my own mother, and a pear out of her garden." when pluto heard this he began to see that he had made a mistake in his way of trying to tempt proserpina to eat. he wondered why he had never thought of this before, and he at once sent a servant with a large basket to get some of the finest and juiciest pears in the whole world. but this was just at the time when, as we know, mother ceres in her despair had forbidden any flowers or fruit to grow on the earth, and the only thing king pluto's servant could find, after seeking all over the world was a single dried-up pomegranate, so dried up as to be hardly worth eating. still, since there was no better to be had, he brought it back to the palace, put it on a magnificent gold plate, and carried it to proserpina. now it just happened that as the servant was bringing the pomegranate in at the back door of the palace, mercury had gone up to the front steps with his message to king pluto about proserpina. as soon as proserpina saw the pomegranate on the golden plate, she told the servant to take it away again. "i shall not touch it, i can assure you," she said. "if i were ever so hungry, i should not think of eating such a dried-up miserable pomegranate as that." "it is the only one in the world," said the servant, and he set down the plate and went away. when he had gone, proserpina could not help coming close to the table and looking at the dried-up pomegranate with eagerness. to tell the truth, when she saw something that really suited her taste, she felt all her six months' hunger come back at once. to be sure it was a very poor-looking pomegranate, with no more juice in it than in an oyster-shell. but there was no choice of such things in king pluto's palace, and this was the first fresh fruit proserpina had ever seen there, and the last she was ever likely to see, and unless she ate it up at once, it would only get drier and drier and be quite unfit to eat. "at least i may smell it," she thought, so she took up the pomegranate and held it to her nose, and somehow, being quite near to her mouth, the fruit found its way into that little red cave. before proserpina knew what she was about, her teeth had actually bitten it of their own accord. just as this fatal deed was done, the door of the hall opened and king pluto came in, followed by mercury, who had been begging him to let his little prisoner go. at the first noise of their coming, proserpina took the pomegranate from her mouth. mercury, who saw things very quickly, noticed that proserpina looked a little uncomfortable, and when he saw the gold plate empty, he was sure she had been eating something. as for king pluto, he never guessed the secret. "my dear little proserpina," said the king, sitting down and drawing her gently between his knees, "here is mercury, who tells me that a great many sad things have happened to innocent people because i have kept you a prisoner down here. and to confess the truth i have been thinking myself that i really had no right to take you away from your mother. it was very stupid of me, but i thought this palace was so dull, and that i should be much happier if i just had a merry little girl to play in it, and i hoped you would take my crown for a toy and let me be your playmate. it was very foolish of me, i know." "no, it was not foolish," said proserpina, "you have been very kind to me, and i have often been quite happy here with you." "thank you, dear," said king pluto, "but i cannot help seeing that you think my palace a dark prison and me the hard-hearted jailor, and i should, indeed, be hard-hearted if i were to keep you longer than six months. so i give you your liberty. go back, dear, with mercury, to your mother." now, although you might not think so, proserpina found it impossible to say good-by to king pluto without being sorry, and she felt she ought to tell him about tasting the pomegranate. she even cried a little when she thought how lonely and dull the great palace with its jeweled lamps would be after she had left. she would like to have thanked him many times, but mercury hurried her away. "come along quickly," he said, "as king pluto may change his mind, and take care above all things that you say nothing about the pomegranate which the servant brought you on the gold plate." in a short time they had passed the great gateway with the golden pillars, leaving cerberus barking and growling with all his three heads at once, and beating his dragon tail on the ground. along the dark, rocky road they went very quickly, and soon they reached the upper world again. you can guess how excited and happy proserpina was to see the bright sunshine. she noticed how green the grass grew on the path behind and on each side of her. wherever she set her foot at once there rose a flower: violets and roses bloomed along the wayside; the grass and the corn began to grow with ten times their usual quickness to make up for the dreary months when mother ceres had forbidden them to appear above ground. the hungry cattle began to eat, and went on eating all day after their long fast. and, i can assure you, it was a busy time with all the farmers when they found that summer was coming with a rush. as to the birds, they hopped about from tree to tree among the fresh, sweet blossoms, and sang for joy that the dreary days were over and the world was green and young again. mother ceres had gone back to her empty cottage, and was sitting very sadly on the doorstep with her burning torch in her hand. she had been looking wearily at the flame for some moments, when all at once it flickered and went out. "what does this mean?" she thought. "it was a magic torch, and should have gone on burning till proserpina was found." she looked up, and was surprised to see the bare brown fields suddenly turning green, just as you sometimes see them turn golden when the sun comes from behind a dark cloud. "does the earth dare to disobey me?" exclaimed mother ceres angrily. "did i not forbid it to be green until my child should be sent back to me?" "then open your arms, mother dear," cried a well-known voice, "and take me back again." and proserpina came running along the pathway and flung herself on her mother's bosom. it would be impossible to tell how happy they were; so happy that they cried a little, for people cry when they are very glad as well as when they are unhappy. after a little while mother ceres looked anxiously at proserpina. "my child," she said, "did you taste any food while you were in king pluto's palace?" "dearest mother," answered proserpina, "i will tell you the whole truth. until this morning not a morsel of food had passed my lips. but a servant brought me a pomegranate on a golden-plate, a very dry pomegranate, with no juice inside, nothing but seeds and skin; and i was so hungry, and had not tasted any food for such a long time, that i took just one bite. the moment i tasted it king pluto and mercury came into the room. i had not swallowed a morsel, but o mother! i hope it was no harm, six pomegranate seeds remained in my mouth and i swallowed them." "o miserable me!" said mother ceres. "for each of these six pomegranate seeds you must spend a month every year in king pluto's palace. you are only half restored to me; you will be six months with me and then six months with the king of darkness!" "do not be so vexed, mother dear," said proserpina. "it was very unkind of king pluto to carry me off, but then, as he says, it was such a dismal life for him to lead in that great palace all alone: and he says he has been much happier since he had me to run about the big rooms and to play beside him. if only he will let me spend six months every year with you, i think i can bear to spend the other six months beside him. after all, he was as kind as he knew how to be, but i am very glad he cannot keep me the whole year round." the story of atalanta adapted by anna klingensmith atalanta was a maiden whose face you might truly say was boyish for a girl, yet too girlish for a boy. her fortune had been told, and it was to this effect: "atalanta, do not marry; marriage will be your ruin." terrified by this oracle, she fled the society of men, and devoted herself to the sports of the chase. to all suitors (for she had many) she imposed a condition which was generally effectual in relieving her of their persecutions, "i will be the prize of him who shall conquer me in the race; but death must be the penalty of all who try and fail." in spite of this hard condition some would try. hippomenes was to be judge of the race. "can it be possible that any will be so rash as to risk so much for a wife?" said he. but when he saw her ravishing beauty as she prepared for the race, he changed his mind, and said, "pardon me, youths, i knew not the prize you were competing for." as he surveyed them he wished them all to be beaten, and swelled with envy of anyone that seemed at all likely to win. while such were his thoughts, the virgin darted forward. as she ran she looked more beautiful than ever. the breezes seemed to give wings to her feet; her hair flew over her shoulders, and the gay fringe of her garment fluttered behind her. a ruddy hue tinged the whiteness of her skin, such as a crimson curtain casts on a marble wall. all her competitors were distanced, and were put to death without mercy. hippomenes, not daunted by this result, fixing his eyes on the virgin, said, "why boast of beating those laggards? i offer myself for the contest." atalanta looked at him with a pitying countenance, and hardly knew whether she would rather conquer him or not. "what god can tempt one so young and handsome to throw himself away? i pity him, not for his beauty (yet he is beautiful), but for his youth. i wish he would give up the race, or if he will be so mad, i hope he may outrun me." while she hesitates, revolving these thoughts, the spectators grow impatient for the race, and her father prompts her to prepare. then hippomenes addressed a prayer to venus: "help me, venus, for you have led me on." venus heard and was propitious. in the garden of her temple, in her own island of cyprus, is a tree with yellow leaves and yellow branches and golden fruit. hence she gathered three golden apples, and, unseen by any one else, gave them to hippomenes, and told him how to use them. the signal is given; each starts from the goal and skims over the sand. so light their tread, you would almost have thought they might run over the river surface or over the waving grain without sinking. the cries of the spectators cheered hippomenes,--"now, now, do your best! haste, haste! you gain on her! relax not! one more effort!" it was doubtful whether the youth or the maiden heard these cries with the greater pleasure. but his breath began to fail him, his throat was dry, the goal yet far off. at that moment he threw down one of the golden apples. the virgin was all amazement. she stopped to pick it up. hippomenes shot ahead. shouts burst forth from all sides. she redoubled her efforts, and soon overtook him. again he threw an apple. she stopped again, but again came up with him. the goal was near; one chance only remained. "now, goddess," said he, "prosper your gift!" and threw the last apple off at one side. she looked at it, and hesitated; venus impelled her to turn aside for it. she did so, and was vanquished. the youth carried off his prize. pyramus and thisbe adapted by alice zimmern in babylon, the great and wonderful city on the euphrates, there lived in two adjoining houses a youth and a maiden named pyramus and thisbe. hardly a day passed without their meeting, and at last they came to know and love one another. but when pyramus sought thisbe in marriage, the parents would not hear of it, and even forbade the lovers to meet or speak to each other any more. but though they could no longer be openly together, they saw each other at a distance and sent messages by signs and tokens. one day to their great delight they discovered a tiny crack in the wall between the two houses, through which they could hear each other speak. but a few words whispered through a chink in the wall could not satisfy two ardent lovers, and they tried to arrange a meeting. they would slip away one night unnoticed and meet somewhere outside the city. a spot near the tomb of ninus was chosen, where a mulberry tree grew near a pleasant spring of water. at nightfall thisbe put on a thick veil, slipped out of the house unobserved and made her way in haste to the city gates. she was first at the trysting-place and sat down under the tree to wait for her lover. a strange noise made her look up, and she saw by the clear moonlight a lioness with bloody jaws coming to drink at the spring. thisbe sprang up, and dropping her cloak in her haste ran to hide herself in a neighboring cave. the lioness, who had already eaten, did not care to pursue her, but finding the cloak lying on the ground, pulled it to bits and left the marks of blood on the torn mantle. now pyramus in his turn came to the place and found no thisbe, but only her torn and bloodstained cloak. "surely," he thought, "some beast must have devoured her, for here lies her cloak, all mangled and bloodstained. alas, that i came too late! her love for me led thisbe to brave the perils of night and danger, and i was not here to protect and save her. she dies a victim to her love, but she shall not perish alone. one same night will see the end of both lovers. come, ye lions, and devour me too, 'tis my one prayer. yet 'tis a coward's part to pray for death when his own hands can give it." with these words he drew thisbe's cloak towards him, and covered it with kisses. "my blood too shall stain you," he cried, and plunged his sword with true aim in his breast. the blood spouted forth as from a fountain and stained the white fruit of the mulberry overhead. while pyramus lay dying under the tree, thisbe had recovered from her fright, and now stole forth from her hiding-place, hoping that her lover might be at hand. what was her dismay when she saw pyramus stretched lifeless on the ground. kneeling down beside him, she washed his wound with her tears, and kissed his cold lips, calling on him in vain to speak. "speak to me, pyramus," she cried, "'tis your beloved thisbe that calls." at the sound of her voice pyramus opened his failing eyes, and gave his love one last look, then he closed them for ever. when thisbe saw her own cloak and the empty sheath, she guessed that, thinking her dead, he had sought death himself. "'twas by your own hand you fell," she cried, "a victim to love, and love will give my hand strength to do the like. since those who were parted in life are united in death, perhaps our sorrowing parents will grant us the boon of a common tomb. may we rest side by side, even as we have fallen, and may this tree, which has witnessed our despair and our death, bear the traces for evermore. let its fruit be clothed in mourning garb for the death of two hapless lovers." with these words she threw herself on the sword of pyramus. her last prayer was granted, for one urn held the ashes of the faithful pair. and since that night the mulberry tree bears purple fruit to recall to all generations of lovers the cruel fate of pyramus and thisbe. orpheus adapted by alice zimmern orpheus, the thracian singer, was the most famous of all the musicians of greece. apollo himself had given him his golden harp, and on it he played music of such wondrous power and beauty that rocks, trees and beasts would follow to hear him. jason had persuaded orpheus to accompany the argonauts when they went to fetch back the golden fleece, for he knew that the perils of the way would be lightened by song. to the sound of his lyre the argo had floated down to the sea, and he played so sweetly when they passed the rocks of the sirens that the dreadful monsters sang their most alluring strains in vain. orpheus wedded the fair nymph eurydice, whom he loved dearly, and who returned his love. but at their marriage the omens were not favorable. hymen, the marriage god, came to it with a gloomy countenance and the wedding torches smoked and would not give forth a cheerful flame. indeed the happiness of orpheus and eurydice was to be but short-lived. for as the new-made bride wandered through the woods with the other nymphs a poisonous serpent stung her heel, and no remedy availed to save her. orpheus was thrown into most passionate grief at his wife's death. he could not believe that he had lost her for ever, but prayed day and night without ceasing to the gods above to restore her to him. when they would not listen, he resolved to make one last effort to win her back. he would go down to the lower world and seek her among the dead, and try whether any prayer or persuasion could move pluto to restore his beloved. near tænarum, in laconia, was a cave among dark and gloomy rocks, through which led one of the entrances to the lower world. this was the road by which hercules descended when he went to carry off cerberus, the three-headed dog that guards the threshold of pluto. undaunted by the terrors of the place, orpheus passed through this gate and down a dark and dismal road to the kingdom of the dead. here he came in safety through the crowd of ghosts and phantoms, and stood at last before the throne of pluto and proserpina. then he touched the chords of his lyre and chanted these words: "great lords of the world below the earth, to which all we mortals must one day come, grant me to tell a simple tale and declare unto you the truth. not to look upon the blackness of tartarus have i come hither, nor yet to bind in chains the snaky heads on cerberus. it is my wife i seek. a viper's sting has robbed her of the years that were her due. i should have borne my loss, indeed i tried to bear it, but i was overcome by love, a god well known in the world above, and i think not without honor in your kingdom, unless the story of proserpina's theft be a lying tale. i beseech you, by the realms of the dead, by mighty chaos and the silence of your vast kingdom, revoke the untimely doom of eurydice. all our lives are forfeit to you. 'tis but a short delay, and late or soon we all hasten towards one goal. hither all our footsteps tend. this is our last home, yours is the sole enduring rule over mankind. she too, when she shall have lived her allotted term of years, will surely come under your sway. till then, i implore you, let her be mine. but if the fates refuse a husband's prayers, i am resolved never to return hence. my death shall give you a double boon." [illustration: orpheus and eurydice.] thus he prayed and touched his harp in tune with his words. all around him the lifeless ghosts came flocking, and as they heard they wept. tantalus forgot his hunger and thirst. ixion's wheel stood still, the danaids set aside their leaky urns and sisyphus sat on his stone to listen. never yet had such sweet strains been heard in the world of gloom. then, for the first time, tears moistened the cheeks of the furies, and even the king and queen of the dead were moved to pity. they summoned eurydice, and she came, yet halting from her recent wound. "take her," says pluto, "and lead her back to the light. but she must follow you at a distance, nor must you once turn round to look upon her till you have passed beyond these realms. else the boon we grant you will be but vain." a steep path led upward from the realm of darkness, and the way was hard to find through the gloom. in silence orpheus led on, till the goal was close at hand and the welcoming light of the upper air began to penetrate the darkness. then a sudden fear struck his heart. had eurydice really followed his steps, or had she turned back, and was all his toil in vain? tom with anxiety and longing, he turned to gaze on his beloved. dimly he saw her, but for the last time, for a power she could not resist drew her back. orpheus stretched out his arms and tried to seize her, but he only clasped the empty air. "farewell, a last farewell," she murmured, and vanished from his sight. in vain orpheus tried to follow her, in vain he besought charon to carry him a second time across the waters of acheron. seven days he sat on the further bank without food or drink, nourished by his tears and grief. then at last he knew that the gods below were pitiless; and full of sorrow he returned to the upper earth. for three years he wandered among the mountains of thrace, finding his only consolation in the music of his lyre, for he shunned all men and women and would have no bride after eurydice. one day he sat down to rest on a grassy hill in the sunshine, and played and sang to beguile his sorrow. as he played, the coolness of shady branches seemed all about him, and looking up he found himself in the midst of a wood. oak, poplar, lime, beech, laurel, ash, pine, plane and maple and many another tree had gathered together here, drawn from their distant forest homes by the sounds of orpheus's lyre. yes, and the beasts and the birds of the field came too, and orpheus sat in their midst and sang and played the tunes of sorrow. suddenly a great noise was heard of laughter and shouting and merry-making. for this was one of the feasts of bacchus, and the women were celebrating his rites, wandering over the mountains with dance and revel. when they saw orpheus they set up a shout of derision. "see," they cried, "the wretched singer who mocks at women and will have no bride but the dead. come, let us kill him, and show that no man shall despise us unpunished." with these words they began to throw wands and stones at him, but even the lifeless objects were softened by the music, and fell harmlessly to the ground. then the women raised a wild shout and made such a clamor with trumpets and cymbals, that the soft tones of the harp were drowned by the noise. now at last the shots took effect, and in their fury the women fell upon him, dealing blow on blow. orpheus fell lifeless to the ground. but he was not to die unwept. the little birds of the forest mourned for him, even the stony rocks wept, the trees shed their leaves with grief, and the dryads and naiads tore their hair and put on the garb of sorrow. only the pitiless revelers knew no remorse. they seized the singer's head and threw it with his lyre into the river hebrus. there it floated down stream and, strange to tell, the chords gave forth a lament, and the lifeless tongue uttered words. "eurydice, eurydice," it cried, till head and lyre were carried down to the sea, and on to lesbos, the isle of sweet song, where in after years alcaeus and sappho tuned afresh the lyre of orpheus. but the shade of the dead singer went down to hades, and found entrance at last. thus orpheus and eurydice were re-united, and won in death the bliss that was denied them in life. myths of scandinavia baldur adapted from a, and e. keary's version i the dream upon a summer's afternoon it happened that baldur the bright and bold, beloved of men and the gods, found himself alone in his palace of broadblink. thor was walking among the valleys, his brow heavy with summer heat; frey and gerda sported on still waters in their cloud-leaf ship; odin, for once, slept on the top of air throne; a noon-day stillness pervaded the whole earth; and baldur in broadblink, most sunlit of palaces, dreamed a dream. the dream of baldur was troubled. he knew not whence nor why; but when he awoke he found that a new and weighty care was within him. it was so heavy that baldur could scarcely carry it, and yet he pressed it closely to his heart and said, "lie there, and do not fall on any one but me." then he rose up and walked out from the splendor of his hall, that he might seek his own mother, frigga, and tell her what had happened. he found her in her crystal saloon, calm and kind, and ready to sympathize; so he walked up to her, his hands pressed closely on his heart, and lay down at her feet sighing. "what is the matter, dear baldur?" asked frigga, gently. "i do not know, mother," answered he. "i do not know what the matter is; but i have a shadow in my heart." "take it out, then, my son, and let me look at it," replied frigga. "but i fear, mother, that if i do it will cover the whole earth." then frigga laid her hand upon the heart of her son that she might feel the shadow's shape. her brow became clouded as she felt it; her parted lips grew pale, and she cried out, "oh! baldur, my beloved son! the shadow is the shadow of death!" then said baldur, "i will die bravely, my mother." but frigga answered, "you shall not die at all; for i will not sleep to-night until everything on earth has sworn to me that it will neither kill nor harm you." so frigga stood up, and called to her everything on earth that had power to hurt or slay. first she called all metals to her; and heavy iron-ore came lumbering up the hill into the crystal hall, brass and gold, copper, silver, lead, and steel, and stood before the queen, who lifted her right hand high in the air, saying, "swear to me that you will not injure baldur"; and they all swore, and went. then she called to her all stones; and huge granite came with crumbling sandstone, and white lime, and the round, smooth stones of the seashore, and frigga raised her arm, saying, "swear that you will not injure baldur"; and they swore, and went. then frigga called to her the trees; and wide-spreading oak trees, with tall ash and sombre firs, came rushing up the hill, and frigga raised her hand, and said, "swear that you will not hurt baldur"; and they said, "we swear," and went. after this frigga called to her the diseases, who came blown by poisonous winds on wings of pain to the sound of moaning. frigga said to them, "swear"; and they sighed, "we swear," then flew away. then frigga called to her all beasts, birds, and venomous snakes, who came to her and swore, and disappeared. then she stretched out her hand to baldur, while a smile spread over her face, saying, "now, my son, you cannot die." just then odin came in, and when he had heard from frigga the whole story, he looked even more mournful than she had done; neither did the cloud pass from his face when he was told of the oaths that had been taken. "why do you look so grave, my lord?" demanded frigga at last. "baldur cannot die now." but odin asked very gravely, "is the shadow gone out of our son's heart, or is it still there?" "it cannot be there," said frigga, turning away her head resolutely, and folding her hands before her. but odin looked at baldur, and saw how it was. the hands pressed to the heavy heart, the beautiful brow grown dim. then immediately he arose, saddled sleipnir, his eight-footed steed, mounted him, and, turning to frigga, said, "i know of a dead prophetess, frigga, who, when she was alive, could tell what was going to happen; her grave lies on the east side of helheim, and i am going there to awake her, and ask whether any terrible grief is really coming upon us." so saying odin shook the bridle in his hand, and the eight-footed, with a bound, leaped forth, rushed like a whirlwind down the mountain of asgard, and then dashed into a narrow defile between rocks. sleipnir went on through the defile a long way, until he came to a place where the earth opened her mouth. there odin rode in and down a broad, steep, slanting road which led him to the cavern gnipa, and the mouth of the cavern gnipa yawned upon niflheim. then thought odin to himself, "my journey is already done." but just as sleipnir was about to leap through the jaws of the pit, garm, the voracious dog who was chained to the rock, sprang forward, and tried to fasten himself upon odin. three times odin shook him off, and still garm, as fierce as ever, went on with the fight. at last sleipnir leaped, and odin thrust just at the same moment; then horse and rider cleared the entrance, and turned eastward towards the dead prophetess's grave, dripping blood along the road as they went; while the beaten garm stood baying in the cavern's mouth. when odin came to the grave he got off his horse, and stood with his face northward, looking through barred enclosures into the city of helheim itself. the servants of hela were very busy there making preparations for some new guest--hanging gilded couches with curtains of anguish and splendid misery upon the walls. then odin's heart died within him, and he began to repeat mournful runes in a low tone. the dead prophetess turned heavily in her grave at the sound of his voice, and sat bolt upright. "what man is this," she asked, "who dares disturb my sleep?" then odin, for the first time in his life, said what was not true; the shadow of baldur dead fell upon his lips, and he made answer, "my name is vegtam, the son of valtam." "and what do you want of me?" asked the prophetess. "i want to know," replied odin, "for whom hela is making ready that gilded couch in helheim?" "that is for baldur the beloved," answered the prophetess. "now go away and let me sleep again, for my eyes are heavy." but odin said, "only one word more. is baldur going to helheim?" "yes, i've told you that he is," was the answer. "will he never come back to asgard again?" "if everything on earth should weep for him," said she, "he will go back; if not, he will remain in helheim." then odin covered his face with his hands and looked into darkness. "do go away," said the prophetess, "i'm so sleepy; i cannot keep my eyes open any longer." but odin raised his head and said again, "only tell me one thing. just now, as i looked into darkness, it seemed to me that i saw one on earth who would not weep for baldur. who was it?" at this she grew very angry and said, "how couldst _thou_ see in darkness? i know of only one who, by giving away his eye, gained light. no vegtam art thou but odin, chief of men." at her angry words odin became angry, too, and called out as loudly as he could, "no prophetess nor wise woman, but rather the mother of three giants." "go, go!" answered the prophetess, falling back in her grave; "no man shall waken me again until loki have burst his chains and the twilight of the gods be come." after this odin mounted the eight-footed once more and rode thoughtfully home. ii the peacestead when odin came back to asgard, hermod took the bridle from his father's hand and told him that the rest of the gods were gone to the peacestead--a broad, green plain which lay just outside the city. this was the playground of the gods, where they practised trials of skill and held tournaments and sham fights. these last were always conducted in the gentlest and most honorable manner; for the strongest law of the peacestead was, that no angry blow should be struck, or spiteful word spoken, upon the sacred field; and for this reason some have thought it might be well if children also had a peacestead to play in. odin was too tired from his journey to go to the peacestead that afternoon; so he turned away and shut himself up in his palace of gladsheim. but when he was gone, loki came into the city by another way, and hearing from hermod where the gods were, set off to join them. when he got to the peacestead, loki found that the gods were standing round in a circle shooting at something, and he peeped between the shoulders of two of them to find out what it was. to his surprise he saw baldur standing in the midst, erect and calm, whilst his friends and brothers were aiming their weapons at him. some hewed at him with their swords,--others threw stones at him--some shot arrows pointed with steel, and thor continually swung his great hammer at his head. "well," said loki to himself, "if this is the sport of asgard, what must that of jötunheim be? i wonder what father odin and mother frigga would say if they were here?" but as loki still looked, he became even more surprised, for the sport went on, and baldur was not hurt. arrows aimed at his very heart glanced back again untinged with blood. the stones fell down from his broad, bright brow, and left no bruises there. swords clave, but did not wound him; thor's hammer struck him, and he was not crushed. at this loki grew perfectly furious with envy and hatred. "and why is baldur to be so honored," said he "that even steel and stone shall not hurt him?" then loki changed himself into a little, dark, bent old woman, with a stick, and hobbled away from the peacestead to frigga's crystal saloon. at the door he knocked with the stick. "come in!" said the kind voice of frigga, and loki lifted the latch. now when frigga saw, from the other end of the hall, a little, bent, crippled old woman come hobbling up her crystal floor, she got up with true queenliness and met her halfway, holding out her hand and saying in the kindest manner, "pray sit down, my poor old friend; for it seems to me that you have come from a great distance." "that i have, indeed," answered loki in a tremulous, squeaking voice. "and did you happen to see anything of the gods," asked frigga, "as you came?" "just now i passed by the peacestead and saw them at play." "what were they doing?" "shooting at baldur." then frigga bent over her work with a pleased smile on her face. "and nothing hurt him?" "nothing," answered loki, looking keenly at her. "no, no thing," murmured frigga, still looking down and speaking half musingly to herself; "for all things have sworn to me that they will not." "sworn!" exclaimed loki, eagerly; "what is that you say? has everything sworn then?" "everything," answered she, "excepting the little shrub mistletoe, which grows, you know, on the west side of valhalla, and to which i said nothing, because i thought it was too young to swear." "excellent!" thought loki, and then he got up. "you're not going yet, are you?" said frigga, stretching out her hand and looking up at last into the eyes of the old woman. "i'm quite rested now, thank you," answered loki in his squeaky voice, and then he hobbled out at the door, which clapped after him, and sent a cold gust into the room. frigga shuddered, and thought that a serpent was gliding down the back of her neck. when loki had left the presence of frigga, he changed himself back to his proper shape and went straight to the west side of valhalla, where the mistletoe grew. then he opened his knife and cut off a large bunch, saying these words, "too young for frigga's oaths, but not too weak for loki's work." after which he set off for the peacestead once more, the mistletoe in his hand. when he got there he found that the gods were still at their sport, standing round, taking aim, and talking eagerly, and baldur did not seem tired. but there was one who stood alone, leaning against a tree, and who took no part in what was going on. this was hödur, baldur's blind twin-brother; he stood with his head bent downwards, silent while the others were speaking, doing nothing when they were most eager; and loki thought that there was a discontented expression on his face, just as if he were saying to himself, "nobody takes any notice of me." so loki went up to him and put his hand upon his shoulder. "and why are you standing here all alone, my brave friend?" said he. "why don't _you_ throw something at baldur? hew at him with a sword, or show him some attention of that sort." "i haven't a sword," answered hödur, with an impatient gesture; "and you know as well as i do, loki, that father odin does not approve of my wearing warlike weapons, or joining in sham fights, because i am blind." "oh! is that it?" said loki. well, i only know _i_ shouldn't like to be left out of everything. however, i've got a twig of mistletoe here which i'll lend you if you like; a harmless little twig enough, but i shall be happy to guide your arm if you would like to throw it, and baldur might take it as a compliment from his twin-brother." "let me feel it," said hödur, stretching out his groping hands. "this way, this way, my dear friend," said loki, giving him the twig. "now, as hard as ever you can, to do _him honor_; throw!" hödur threw--baldur fell, and the shadow of death covered the whole earth. iii baldur dead one after another they turned and left the peacestead, the friends and brothers of the slain. one after another they turned and went towards the city; crushed hearts, heavy footsteps, no word amongst them, a shadow upon all. the shadow was in asgard, too--had walked through frigga's hall and seated itself upon the threshold of gladsheim. odin had just come out to look at it, and frigga stood by in mute despair as the gods came up. "loki did it! loki did it!" they said at last in confused, hoarse whispers, and they looked from one to another,--upon odin, upon frigga, upon the shadow which they saw before them, and which they felt within. "loki did it! loki, loki!" they went on saying; but it was of no use to repeat the name of loki over and over again when there was another name they were too sad to utter but which filled all their hearts--baldur. frigga said it first, and then they all went to look at him lying down so peacefully on the grass--dead, dead. "carry him to the funeral pyre!" said odin, at length; and four of the gods stooped down and lifted their dead brother. noiselessly they carried the body tenderly to the seashore and laid it upon the deck of the majestic ship, ringhorn, which had been _his_. then they stood waiting to see who would come to the funeral. odin came, and on his shoulders sat his two ravens, whose croaking drew clouds down over the asa's face, for thought and memory sang the same sad song that day. frigga came,--frey, gerda, freyja, thor, hoenir, bragi, and idun. heimdall came sweeping over the tops of the mountains on golden mane, his swift, bright steed. Ægir the old groaned from under the deep, and sent his daughters up to mourn around the dead. frost-giants and mountain-giants came crowding round the rimy shores of jötunheim to look across the sea upon the funeral of an asa. nanna came, baldur's fair young wife; but when she saw the dead body of her husband, her own heart broke with grief, and the gods laid her beside him on the stately ship. after this odin stepped forward and placed a ring on the breast of his son, whispering something at the same time in his ear; but when he and the rest of the gods tried to push ringhorn into the sea before setting fire to it, they found their hearts too heavy to do it. so they beckoned to the giantess hyrrokin to come over from jötunheim and help them. she, with a single push, set the ship floating, and then, whilst thor stood up holding his hammer high in the air, odin lighted the funeral pile of baldur and of nanna. so ringhorn went floating towards the deep sea and the funeral fire burnt on. its broad red flame burst forth heavenward, but when the smoke would have gone upward too, the winds came sobbing and carried it away. iv helheim when at last the ship ringhorn had floated out so far to sea that it looked like a dull red lamp on the horizon, frigga turned round and said, "will any one of you, my children, perform a noble action and win my love forever?" "i will," cried hermod, before any one else had time to open his lips. "go, then, hermod," answered frigga, "saddle sleipnir with all speed and ride down to helheim; there seek out hela, the stern mistress of the dead, and entreat her to send our beloved back to us again." hermod was gone in the twinkling of an eye, not in at the mouth of the earth and through the steep cavern down which odin went to the dead prophetess's grave; he chose another way, though not a better one; for, go to helheim as you will, the best is but a downward road, and so hermod found it--downward, slanting, slippery, dark, and very cold. at last he came to the giallar bru--that sounding river which flows between the living and the dead, and to the bridge over it which is paved with stones of glittering gold. hermod was surprised to see gold in such a place; but as he rode over the bridge, and looked down carefully at the stones, he saw that they were only tears which had been shed round the beds of the dying--only tears, and yet they made the way seem brighter. but when hermod reached the other end of the bridge, he found the courageous woman who, for ages and ages, had been sitting there to watch the dead go by, and she stopped him saying: "what a noise you make! who are you? yesterday five troops of dead men went over the giallar bridge and did not shake it so much as you have done. besides," she added, looking more closely at hermod, "you are not a dead man at all. your lips are neither cold nor blue. why, then, do you ride on the way to helheim?" "i seek baldur," answered hermod. "tell me, have you seen him pass?" "baldur," she said, "has ridden over the bridge; but there below, towards the north, lies the way to the abodes of death." so hermod went on the way until he came to the barred gates of helheim itself. there he alighted, tightened his saddle-girths, remounted, clapped both spurs to his horse, and cleared the gate by one tremendous leap. then hermod found himself in a place where no living man had ever been before--the city of the dead. perhaps you think there is a great silence there, but you are mistaken. hermod thought he had never in his life heard so much noise; for the echoes of all words were speaking together--words, some newly uttered and some ages old; but the dead men did not hear who flitted up and down the dark streets, for their ears had been stunned and become cold long since. hermod rode on through the city until he came to the palace of hela, which stood in the midst. precipice was its threshold, the entrance-hall, wide storm, and yet hermod was not too much afraid to seek the innermost rooms; so he went on to the banqueting hall, where hela sat at the head of her table serving her new guests. baldur, alas! sat at her right hand, and on her left his pale young wife. when hela saw hermod coming up the hall she smiled grimly, but beckoned to him at the same time to sit down, and told him that he might sup that night with her. it was a strange supper for a living man to sit down to. hunger was the table; starvation, hela's knife; delay, her man; slowness, her maid; and burning thirst, her wine. after supper hela led the way to the sleeping apartments. "you see," she said, turning to hermod, "i am very anxious about the comfort of my guests. here are beds of unrest provided for all, hung with curtains of weariness, and look how all the walls are furnished with despair." so saying she strode away, leaving hermod and baldur together. the whole night they sat on those unquiet couches and talked. hermod could speak of nothing but the past, and as he looked anxiously round the room his eyes became dim with tears. but baldur seemed to see a light far off, and he spoke of what was to come. the next morning hermod went to hela, and entreated her to let baldur return to asgard. he even offered to take his place in helheim if she pleased; but hela only laughed at this and said: "you talk a great deal about baldur, and boast how much every one loves him; i will prove now if what you have told me be true. let everything on earth, living or dead, weep for baldur, and he shall go home again; but if _one_ thing only refuse to weep, then let helheim hold its own; he shall _not_ go." "every one will weep willingly," said hermod, as he mounted sleipnir and rode towards the entrance of the city. baldur went with him as far as the gate and began to send messages to all his friends in asgard, but hermod would not listen to many of them. "you will soon come back to us," he said, "there is no use in sending messages." so hermod darted homewards, and baldur watched him through the bars of helheim's gateway as he flew along. "not soon, not soon," said the dead asa; but still he saw the light far off, and thought of what was to come. v weeping "well, hermod, what did she say?" asked the gods from the top of the hill as they saw him coming; "make haste and tell us what she said." and hermod came up. "oh! is that all?" they cried, as soon as he had delivered his message. "nothing can be more easy," and then they all hurried off to tell frigga. she was weeping already, and in five minutes there was not a tearless eye in asgard. "but this is not enough," said odin; "the whole earth must know of our grief that it may weep with us." then the father of the gods called to him his messenger maidens--the beautiful valkyries--and sent them out into all worlds with these three words on their lips, "baldur is dead!" but the words were so dreadful that at first the messenger maidens could only whisper them in low tones as they went along, "baldur is dead!" the dull, sad sounds flowed back on asgard like a new river of grief, and it seemed to the gods as if they now wept for the first time--"baldur is dead!" "what is that the valkyries are saying?" asked the men and women in all the country round, and when they heard rightly, men left their labor and lay down to weep--women dropped the buckets they were carrying to the well, and, leaning their faces over them, filled them with tears. the children crowded upon the doorsteps, or sat down at the corners of the streets, crying as if their own mothers were dead. the valkyries passed on. "baldur is dead!" they said to the empty fields; and straightway the grass and the wild field-flowers shed tears. "baldur is dead!" said the messenger maidens to the rocks and stones; and the very stones began to weep. "baldur is dead!" the valkyries cried; and even the old mammoth's bones which had lain for centuries under the hills, burst into tears, so that small rivers gushed forth from every mountain's side. "baldur is dead!" said the messenger maidens as they swept over silent sands; and all the shells wept pearls. "baldur is dead!" they cried to the sea, and to jötunheim across the sea; and when the giants understood it, even they wept, while the sea rained spray to heaven. after this the valkyries stepped from one stone to another until they reached a rock that stood alone in the middle of the sea; then, all together, they bent forward over the edge of it, stooped down and peeped over, that they might tell the monsters of the deep. "baldur is dead!" they said, and the sea monsters and the fish wept. then the messenger maidens looked at one another and said, "surely our work is done." so they twined their arms round one another's waists, and set forth on the downward road to helheim, there to claim baldur from among the dead. after he had sent forth his messenger maidens, odin had seated himself on the top of air throne that he might see how the earth received his message. at first he watched the valkyries as they stepped forth north and south, and east and west; but soon the whole earth's steaming tears rose up like a great cloud and hid everything from him. then he looked down through the cloud and said, "are you all weeping?" the valkyries heard the sound of his voice as they went all together down the slippery road, and they turned round, stretching out their arms towards air throne, their long hair falling back, while, with choked voices and streaming eyes, they answered, "the world weeps, father odin; the world and we." after this they went on their way until they came to the end of the cave gnipa, where garm was chained, and which yawned over niflheim. "the world weeps," they said one to another by way of encouragement, for here the road was so dreadful; but just as they were about to pass through the mouth of gnipa they came upon a haggard witch named thaukt, who sat in the entrance with her back to them, and her face toward the abyss. "baldur is dead! weep, weep!" said the messenger maidens, as they tried to pass her; but thaukt made answer: "what she doth hold, let hela keep; for naught care i, though the world weep, o'er baldur's bale. live he or die with tearless eye, old thaukt shall wail." and with these words leaped into niflheim with a yell of triumph. "surely that cry was the cry of loki," said one of the maidens; but another pointed towards the city of helheim, and there they saw the stern face of hela looking over the wall. "one has not wept," said the grim queen, "and helheim holds its own." so saying she motioned the maidens away with her long, cold hand. then the valkyries turned and fled up the steep way to the foot of odin's throne, like a pale snowdrift that flies before the storm. thor's adventures among the jÖtuns adapted by julia goddard once upon a time thor set out upon his travels, taking loki with him, for despite loki's spirit of mischief he often aided thor, who doubtless, in the present expedition, felt that loki might be of use to him. so they set off together in thor's chariot, drawn by its two strong he-goats, and as night drew nigh, stopped at the hut of a peasant, where they asked food and shelter. "food i have none to give you," said the peasant. "i am a poor man and not able even to give supper to my children, but if you like to rest under my roof you are welcome to do so." "never mind the food; i can manage that," said thor, dismounting from the chariot and entering the hut. it was a poor place, and not at all fitted to receive one of the asi, but thor was glad enough to meet with it, wretched as it was. "you can kill the goats," said he; "they will make us an excellent meal." the peasant could not help thinking that it was a pity to kill two such fine animals; but wisely thinking that this was no affair of his, and that the stranger had a right to do as he pleased with his own, he set himself to obey thor's orders, and with the help of his daughter raska soon spread a savory repast before the hungry god and his attendant. "sit down, all of you," said thor; "there is enough and to spare." so they all sat down, and the peasant and his children shared a more plentiful meal than had fallen to their lot lately. thor and loki also did ample justice to the food, and when supper was over the thunder-god bade the peasant gather the bones and place them in the goatskins, and making them into a bundle he left them on the floor until the next morning. when the morning came and the early sun shone in through the crevices, thor raised his hammer, and instead of the bundle of bones the peasant and his son and daughter saw the two goats standing as fresh and lively as if nothing had happened to them, saving that one of them halted a little in his walk. when they sought to learn why this should be, it was found that thialfe, the boy, in getting the marrow out of one of the bones, had broken it, and it was this that caused the goat to go lame. thor was very angry, and was very near killing not only thialfe but also the peasant and his daughter raska, but they begged so hard for their lives that he consented to spare them on condition that the boy and girl should follow him in his travels. to this they agreed, and thor, leaving the chariot and goats in the peasant's care, went on his journey, giving thialfe, who was a very swift runner, his wallet to carry. on and on they journeyed until they came to a great sea. "how are we to get over this?" asked loki. "swim across it," replied thor. and in they all plunged, for thialfe and raska were used to a hardy life, and so were able to swim with scarcely more weariness than thor and loki, and were not long in reaching the opposite shore. "the country does not improve," said loki, looking round upon the desolate plain that lay outstretched between them and the borders of a dark forest, which they could just see in the far distance. one or two huge rocks thrust their jagged points high into the air, and great blocks of stone were scattered about, but there was no sign of herbage and not a tree to be seen nearer than the forest belt bounding the horizon. heavy gray clouds were drawing nearer and nearer to the dreary earth, and twilight was fast approaching. "it looks not well," answered thor, "but we must push on and perhaps may find it better as we go onward. besides, night is drawing nigh, and as there are no dwellings to be seen we must try to gain the shelter of the forest before it is too dark to see where we are going." so they pushed on, and though they looked to the right hand and to the left, soon found that they were in a land where no men lived. there was, therefore, nothing to be done but to quicken their speed, in order to reach the shelter of the forest. but though they strove to the utmost, the twilight deepened into darkness and the darkness became so deep by the time they reached the forest, that they only knew they had arrived there by loki's striking his head against a low branch, and soon after this thor cried out: "good luck! i have found a house. follow close after me and we will make ourselves comfortable for the night." for thor in groping along had come to what he supposed to be a wall of solid masonry. "where are you?" asked loki, "for it is so dark that i cannot see you." "here," answered thor, stretching out his hand; "take hold and follow me." so loki clutched thor's arm, and thialfe in turn seized the arm of loki, whilst raska clung to her brother and wished herself safe at home in her father's hut. and thus they groped their way along the wall, seeking to find an entrance to the house. at last thor found a huge entrance opening into a wide, hall, and passing through this they turned to the left into a large room which was quite empty, and here, after eating some food, they stretched themselves upon the hard floor and wearied out with the day's march, soon fell asleep. but they did not sleep long. their slumbers were broken by a rumbling sound as of a coming earthquake; the walls of the house shook, and peals of thunder echoed through the lofty chamber. thor sprang up. "we are scarcely safe here," he said; "let us seek some other room." loki jumped up speedily, as did also thialfe and raska, who were in a great fright, wondering what dreadful thing was going to happen to them. they willingly followed thor, hoping to find a safer place. to the right they saw another room like a long gallery with a huge doorway, and into this loki, thialfe, and raska crept, choosing the farthest corner of it; but thor took his stand at the doorway to be on the watch if any fresh danger should threaten them. after a somewhat uncomfortable rest, loki, thialfe, and raska were not sorry to find that the day had dawned, though as there were no windows in the house, they only knew it by hearing the cock crow. thor was better off, for the doorway was so wide that the sunlight came pouring in without hindrance. indeed the huge size of the doorway made thor think that the builder must have given up all hope of ever finding a door large enough to fit into it. he strolled away from the house, and the first thing that he saw was a huge giant fast asleep upon the greensward; and now he knew that the thunder that had so frightened them in the night had been nothing more or less than the loud snoring of the giant. so wroth was thor at the thought that such a thing should have made him afraid, that he fastened on his belt of strength and drew his sword and made towards the giant as though he would kill him on the spot. but the giant, opening his great round eyes, stared so steadily at thor that the god became mazed and could do nothing but stare in return. at last, however, he found voice to ask, "what is your name?" "my name," said the giant, raising himself on one elbow, thereby causing his head to rise so high into the air that thor thought it was taking flight altogether, "is skrymner; you, i believe, are the god thor?" "i am," answered the god. "do you happen to have picked up my glove?" asked the giant carelessly. then thor knew that what he and his companions had taken for a large house was only the giant's glove, and from this we may judge how huge a giant skrymner must have been. thor made no answer, and skrymner next asked whither thor was traveling; and when he found that he was journeying to utgard, offered to bear him company, as he too was going to the same place. thor accepted the giant's offer, and after eating a hearty meal, all were ready for another day's march. skrymner showed himself a kindly giant, and insisted upon carrying thor's bag of meal, putting it into his own wallet, which he slung across his broad shoulders. it must have been a strange sight, indeed, to see the great giant stalking along with his smaller companions at his heels; and we may well marvel how they managed to keep pace with him, or how thor was able to raise his voice to such a pitch as to reach the giant's ears. nevertheless all went well, and they trudged cheerfully along, never flagging in their talk. once skrymner took raska on his shoulder, but the height made her so giddy that she was glad to come down again and walk quietly by the side of thialfe. when night overtook them they encamped under one of the great oak-trees, for they were not yet out of the bounds of the forest. skrymner, to judge by his loud snoring, fell asleep the moment he lay down upon the ground, but thor and his comrades were not so tired as to forget that they had tasted nothing since breakfast time. accordingly they set to work to open the wallet that skrymner had given into their hands before closing his eyes. but it was no easy task, and with all their efforts they failed to open it. not a knot could they untie, and their fingers were chafed and aching. neither were they more able to awaken skyrmner, and thor's anger waxed exceedingly fierce. "you shall pay for this," said he, flinging his hammer at the giant. skrymner half opened the eye nearest to thor, and said in a very sleepy voice, "why will the leaves drop off the trees?" and then he snored as loudly as before. thor picked up his hammer, and approaching nearer drove it into the hinder part of the giant's head, who again, half waking up, muttered, "how troublesome the dust is!" thor was exceedingly astonished at this, but thought nevertheless that he would once more make trial of his power; so coming up close to skrymner he struck with such force as to drive the hammer up to the handle in the giant's cheek. then skrymner opened both eyes, and lazily lifting his finger to his face said, "i suppose there are birds about, for i fancied i felt a feather fall." now was thor fairly disconcerted; and the next morning, when the giant told him that they must now part, as his road led him another way, he was by no means ill-pleased, and he let skrymner go without so much as bidding him "good speed." skrymner, however, seemed not to notice that thor was glad to be quit of his company, and gave him some very friendly advice before he left him. "if you will take my advice," said the giant, "you will give up this thought of visiting utgard. the people there are all giants of greater stature even than i, and they make nothing of little men, such as you are. nay, more, you yourself are likely to fare but badly amongst them, for i see that you are rather apt to think too much of yourself and to take too much upon you. be wise while there is time, think of what i say, and don't go near the city." "but i will go there," shouted thor, almost choked with rage; "i will go in spite of all the jötuns of jötunheim. none shall hinder me, and the giants shall see and wonder at the mighty power of the god thor." and as he spoke the rising sun fell full upon the city of utgard, whose huge brazen gates glittered in the sunlight. even though they were so far away, thor could see how high they were; and as he drew nearer, their vast size filled him with amazement; but when he reached them his wonder was beyond all words, for he and his companions seemed no larger than grasshoppers, in comparison with their height. the gates were not open, for it was yet early; so thor and his comrades crept through the bars, and entered the city. as they passed along the streets the houses were so tall that it was only by crossing to the opposite side of the broad road that they were able to see the windows in the topmost stories. and the streets were so wide that it was quite a journey across them. once a mouse darted out of a hole, and raska screamed, for she thought it was a grisly bear. the mouse also shrieked and made much more noise than raska, as well it might, for a cat so huge that thialfe half thought it must be the monster of midgard seized it, and giving it a pat with one of its paws laid it dead on the pavement. as for the horses, their hoofs were terrible to look at, and thialfe and raska must have climbed up ladders if they wished to see their heads. the people were quite as large as skrymner had described and thor and his companions were obliged to be very careful lest they should get trodden upon, as it was very doubtful if the people even saw them. still thor walked along with the proud consciousness that he was the god thor; and feeling that though he was so small he was yet a person of some importance, made his way to the palace, and desired to see the king. after some little time he and his fellow travelers were ushered into the presence of utgarda loke, the king of the country. and utgarda loke, hearing the door open, raised his eyes, thinking to see some great courtier enter, but he knew nothing of the bows and greetings of thor, until happening to cast his eyes to the ground, he saw a little man with his companions saluting him with much ceremony. the king had never seen such small men before, and there was something so absurd to him in the sight, that he burst out laughing. and then all the courtiers laughed also, pretending that they had not seen the little creatures before. it was some time before they all left off laughing, but at length there was a pause, and thor essayed to make himself heard. "though we are but small in comparison with the jötuns," said he angrily, "we are by no means to be despised, but are gifted with powers that may surprise you." "really!" answered utgarda loke, raising his eyebrows. and then he and his courtiers laughed louder than before. at last there was another pause in their merriment, and the king added: "however, we are willing to give the strangers a fair trial in order to prove the truth of what their spokesman, whom i take to be the god thor, says. how say you? what can this one do?" and he pointed to loki. "please your majesty, i am very great at eating," returned loki. "nay," answered utgarda loke, "you must grow a little before you are great at anything." at which speech the courtiers again shouted with laughter; but utgarda loke, turning to his servants, bade them make trial of loki's powers. so they brought a great trough full of food, and loki was placed at one end, and a courtier named loge at the other. they both fell to work to devour what was before them, and met at the middle of the trough. but it was found that while loki had eaten the flesh of his portion, loge had eaten, not only the flesh, but the bones also. therefore loki, was, of course, vanquished. then utgarda loke turned to thialfe. "and pray, in what may this youth be specially skilled?" he asked. "i am a swift skater," answered thialfe. "try him," said the king. and thialfe was led to a plain of ice, as smooth as glass, and one named hugr was set to run against him. but though thialfe was the swiftest skater ever known in the world, yet hugr glided past him so fleetly that he had returned to the starting-post before thialfe had done more than a quarter of the distance. three times did thialfe match his speed against hugr, and, three times beaten, withdrew from the contest as disconsolate as loki. "and now may i ask what you can do yourself?" said the king to thor. "i can drain a wine-cup with any one," replied the god. "try him," said utgarda loke. and forthwith the royal cupbearer presented a drinking-horn to thor. "if you are as great as you pretend to be," said the king, "you will drain it at one draught. some people take two pulls at it, but the weakest among us can manage it in three." thor took up the horn, and, being very thirsty, took a steady pull at it. he thought he had done very well, but on removing it from his lips he marveled to see how little had gone. a second time he took a draught, but the horn was far from being emptied. again a third time he essayed to drain it, but it was full almost to the brim. therefore he set it down in despair, and confessed himself unable to drain it. "i am disappointed in you," said utgarda loke; "you are not half the man i took you for. i see it is no use asking you to do warrior's feats; i must try you in a simpler way, in a child's play that we have amongst us. you shall try to lift my cat from the ground." thor turned quite scarlet, and then became white with rage. "are you afraid?" asked utgarde loke; "you look so pale." and a large gray cat came leaping along, and planted itself firmly before thor, showing its sharp claws, and glaring upon him with its fiery eyes. thor seized it, but in spite of all his efforts he was only able to raise one of the cat's paws from the ground. "pooh! pooh!" exclaimed utgarda loke, "you are a mere baby, fit only for the nursery. i believe that my old nurse hela would be more than a match for you. here, hela, come and wrestle with the mighty god thor." and utgarda loke laughed disdainfully. forth stepped a decrepit old woman, with lank cheeks and toothless jaws. her eyes were sunken, her brow furrowed, and her scanty locks were white as snow. she advanced towards thor, and tried to throw him to the ground; but though he put forth his whole strength to withstand her, he was surprised to find how powerful she was, and that it needed all his efforts to keep his feet. for a long time he was successful, but at length she brought him down upon one knee, and thor was obliged to acknowledge himself conquered. ashamed and mortified, he and his companions withdrew to a lodging for the night, and in the morning were making ready to leave the city quietly, when utgarda loke sent for them. he made them a splendid feast, and afterwards went with them beyond the city gates. "now tell me honestly," said he to thor, "what do you think of your success?" "i am beyond measure astounded and ashamed," replied the god. "ha! ha!" laughed utgarda loke. "i knew that you were. however, as we are well out of the city i don't mind telling you a secret or two. doubtless you will receive a little comfort from my doing so, as you confess that your coming hither has been to no purpose. "in the first place, you have been deceived by enchantments ever since you came within the borders of jötunheim. i am the giant you met with on your way hither, and if i had known as much of your power then as i do now, you would never have found your way within the walls of utgard. "certainly i had had some slight experience of it, for the three blows you gave me would have killed me had they fallen upon me. but it was not i, but a huge mountain that you struck at; and if you visit it again, you will find three valleys cleft in the rocks by the strokes of your hammer. "as for the wallet, i had fastened it with a magic chain, so that you need not wonder that you could not open it. "loge, with whom loki strove, was no courtier, but a subtle devouring flame that consumed all before it." here loki uttered an exclamation of delight, but thor bade him be silent, and utgarda loke went on: "thialfe's enemy was hugr, or thought, and let man work away as hard as he pleases, thought will still outrun him. "as for yourself, the end of the drinking-horn, though you did not see it, reached the sea, and as fast as you emptied it, it filled again, so that you never could have drained it dry. but the next time that you stand upon the seashore, you will find how much less the ocean is by your draughts. "the gray cat was no cat, but the great serpent of midgard, that twines round the world, and you lifted him so high that we were all quite frightened. "but your last feat was the most wonderful of all, for hela was none other than death. and never did i see any one before over whom death had so little power. "and now, my friend, go your way, and don't come near my city again, for i tell you plainly i do not want you there, and i shall use all kinds of enchantment to keep you out of it." as he ended his speech, thor raised his hammer, but utgarda loke had vanished. "i will return to the city, and be avenged," said thor. but lo! the giant city was nowhere to be seen. a fair pasture-land spread itself out around him, and through its midst a broad river flowed peacefully along. so thor and his companions, musing upon their wonderful adventures, turned their steps homewards. the apples of idun adapted by hamilton wright mabie once upon a time odin, loki, and hoenir started on a journey. they had often traveled together before on all sorts of errands, for they had a great many things to look after, and more than once they had fallen into trouble through the prying, meddlesome, malicious spirit of loki, who was never so happy as when he was doing wrong. when the gods went on a journey they traveled fast and hard, for they were strong, active spirits who loved nothing so much as hard work, hard blows, storm, peril, and struggle. there were no roads through the country over which they made their way, only high mountains to be climbed by rocky paths, deep valleys into which the sun hardly looked during half the year, and swift-rushing streams, cold as ice, and treacherous to the surest foot and the strongest arm. not a bird flew through the air, not an animal sprang through the trees. it was as still as a desert. the gods walked on and on, getting more tired and hungry at every step. the sun was sinking low over the steep, pine-crested mountains, and the travelers had neither breakfasted nor dined. even odin was beginning to feel the pangs of hunger, like the most ordinary mortal, when suddenly, entering a little valley, the famished gods came upon a herd of cattle. it was the work of a minute to kill a great ox and to have the carcass swinging in a huge pot over a roaring fire. but never were gods so unlucky before! in spite of their hunger, the pot would not boil. they piled on the wood until the great flames crackled and licked the pot with their fiery tongues, but every time the cover was lifted there was the meat just as raw as when it was put in. it is easy to imagine that the travelers were not in very good humor. as they were talking about it, and wondering how it could be, a voice called out from the branches of the oak overhead, "if you will give me my fill, i'll make the pot boil." the gods looked first at each other and then into the tree, and there they discovered a great eagle. they were glad enough to get their supper on almost any terms, so they told the eagle he might have what he wanted if he would only get the meat cooked. the bird was as good as his word, and in less time than it takes to tell it supper was ready. then the eagle flew down and picked out both shoulders and both legs. this was a pretty large share, it must be confessed, and loki, who was always angry when anybody got more than he, no sooner saw what the eagle had taken, than he seized a great pole and began to beat the rapacious bird unmercifully. whereupon a very singular thing happened, as singular things always used to happen when the gods were concerned: the pole stuck fast in the huge talons of the eagle at one end, and loki stuck fast at the other end. struggle as he might, he could not get loose, and as the great bird sailed away over the tops of the trees, loki went pounding along on the ground, striking against rocks and branches until he was bruised half to death. the eagle was not an ordinary bird by any means, as loki soon found when he begged for mercy. the giant thjasse happened to be flying abroad in his eagle plumage when the hungry travelers came under the oak and tried to cook the ox. it was into his hands that loki had fallen, and he was not to get away until he had promised to pay roundly for his freedom. if there was one thing which the gods prized above their other treasures in asgard, it was the beautiful fruit of idun, kept by the goddess in a golden casket and given to the gods to keep them forever young and fair. without these apples all their power could not have kept them from getting old like the meanest of mortals. without these apples of idun, asgard itself would have lost its charm; for what would heaven be without youth and beauty forever shining through it? thjasse told loki that he could not go unless he would promise to bring the apples of idun. loki was wicked enough for anything; but when it came to robbing the gods of their immortality, even he hesitated. and while he hesitated the eagle dashed hither and thither, flinging him against the sides of the mountains and dragging him through the great tough boughs of the oaks until his courage gave out entirely, and he promised to steal the apples out of asgard and give them to the giant. loki was bruised and sore enough when he got on his feet again to hate the giant who handled him so roughly, with all his heart, but he was not unwilling to keep his promise to steal the apples, if only for the sake of tormenting the other gods. but how was it to be done? idun guarded the golden fruit of immortality with sleepless watchfulness. no one ever touched it but herself, and a beautiful sight it was to see her fair hands spread it forth for the morning feasts in asgard. the power which loki possessed lay not so much in his own strength, although he had a smooth way of deceiving people, as in the goodness of others who had no thought of his doing wrong because they never did wrong themselves. not long after all this happened, loki came carelessly up to idun as she was gathering her apples to put them away in the beautiful carven box which held them. "good morning, goddess," said he. "how fair and golden your apples are! "yes," answered idun; "the bloom of youth keeps them always beautiful." "i never saw anything like them," continued loki slowly, as if he were talking about a matter of no importance, "until the other day." idun looked up at once with the greatest interest and curiosity in her face. she was very proud of her apples, and she knew no earthly trees, however large and fair, bore the immortal fruit. "where have you seen any apples like them?" she asked. "oh, just outside the gates," said loki indifferently. "if you care to see them i'll take you there. it will keep you but a moment. the tree is only a little way off." idun was anxious to go at once. "better take your apples with you, to compare them with the others," said the wily god, as she prepared to go. idun gathered up the golden apples and went out of asgard, carrying with her all that made it heaven. no sooner was she beyond the gates than a mighty rushing sound was heard, like the coming of a tempest, and before she could think or act, the giant thjasse, in his eagle plumage, was bearing her swiftly away through the air to his desolate, icy home in thrymheim, where, after vainly trying to persuade her to let him eat the apples and be forever young like the gods, he kept her a lonely prisoner. loki, after keeping his promise and delivering idun into the hands of the giant, strayed back into asgard as if nothing had happened. the next morning, when the gods assembled for their feast, there was no idun. day after day went past, and still the beautiful goddess did not come. little by little the light of youth and beauty faded from the home of the gods, and they themselves became old and haggard. their strong, young faces were lined with care and furrowed by age, their raven locks passed from gray to white, and their flashing eyes became dim and hollow. bragi, the god of poetry, could make no music while his beautiful wife was gone he knew not whither. morning after morning the faded light broke on paler and ever paler faces, until even in heaven the eternal light of youth seemed to be going out forever. finally the gods could bear the loss of power and joy no longer. they made rigorous inquiry. they tracked loki on that fair morning when he led idun beyond the gates; they seized him and brought him into solemn council, and when he read in their haggard faces the deadly hate which flamed in all their hearts against his treachery, his courage failed, and he promised to bring idun back to asgard if the goddess freyja would lend him her falcon guise. no sooner said than done; and with eager gaze the gods watched him as he flew away, becoming at last only a dark moving speck against the sky. after long and weary flight loki came to thrymheim, and was glad enough to find thjassa gone to sea and idun alone in his dreary house. he changed her instantly into a nut, and taking her thus disguised in his talons, flew away as fast as his falcon wings could carry him. and he had need of all his speed, for thjasse, coming suddenly home and finding idun and her precious fruit gone, guessed what had happened, and, putting on his eagle plumage, flew forth in a mighty rage, with vengeance in his heart. like the rushing wings of a tempest, his mighty pinions beat the air and bore him swiftly onward. from mountain peak to mountain peak he measured his wide course, almost grazing at times the murmuring pine forests, and then sweeping high in mid-air with nothing above but the arching sky, and nothing beneath but the tossing sea. at last he sees the falcon far ahead, and now his flight becomes like the flash of the lightning for swiftness, and like the rushing of clouds for uproar. the haggard faces of the gods line the walls of asgard and watch the race with tremulous eagerness. youth and immortality are staked upon the winning of loki. he is weary enough and frightened enough, too, as the eagle sweeps on close behind him; but he makes desperate efforts to widen the distance between them. little by little the eagle gains on the falcon. the gods grow white with fear; they rush off and prepare great fires upon the walls. with fainting, drooping wing the falcon passes over and drops exhausted by the wall. in an instant the fires have been lighted, and the great flames roar to heaven. the eagle sweeps across the fiery line a second later and falls, maimed and burned to the ground; where a dozen fierce hands smite the life out of him, and the great giant thjasse perishes among his foes. idun resumes her natural form as bragi rushes to meet her. the gods crowd round her. she spreads the feast, the golden apples gleaming with unspeakable lustre in the eyes of the gods. they eat; and once more their faces glow with the beauty of immortal youth, their eyes flash with the radiance of divine power, and, while idun stands like a star for beauty among the throng, the song of bragi is heard once more; for poetry and immortality are wedded again. the gifts of the dwarfs thor was, you may know, the strongest and noblest of the great giants of the north. he was tall in stature and had fiery brown eyes, from which the light flashed like lightning, while his long red beard waved through the sky as he drove in his goat-drawn chariot. brilliant sparks flew from the hoofs and teeth of the two goats, while a crown of bright stars shone above thor's head. when he was angered the wheels of his chariot rumbled and crashed their passage through the air, until men trembled and hid, telling each other that thor had gone to battle with the rime-giants or other of his enemies. now thor's wife was named sib, and she was most beautiful to look upon. her soft, browny-gold hair was so long and thick that it would cover her from the crown of her head to her little feet, and her deep brown eyes looked into the faces of her friends as those of a mother look into the face of her child. loki, the mischief-maker among the giants, often looked at sib and longed to do her some evil, for he was jealous, thinking that it was not right that she should be praised and loved by everyone; go where he would he could find no one who did not speak well of her. it happened one day when the summer was nearly gone that loki found sib alone and sleeping on a bank near the river, so he drew his knife, and creeping softly nearer and nearer, cut off her beautiful flowing hair quite close to her head. then he joyfully rushed away and strewed it far and wide over the whole earth, so that it became no longer living and golden but faded and turned a dull color as the winds blew it about and the rains beat upon it, and crushed it in between the rocks and stones. when sib awoke and was about to push the hair from her face, she felt that something was wrong. wonderingly she ran to the water and looking at her reflection in the clear depths, saw that nothing but a short stubble stood up all over her head. all her lovely hair was gone! only one would have dared to treat her so badly, and in her grief and anger she called upon thor to come to her aid. loki had of course fled and was hiding far away in another country among the rocks when he heard the distant rumblings of thunder, and tried to shrink deeper into the crevices between the great stones, but the awful sound grew louder, and at last the angry flash from thor's eyes darted to the very spot where the mischievous one lay. then thor pulled him out and shook him from side to side in his enormous hands, and would have crushed his bones upon the hard rocks had not loki in great terror asked what good his death would do, for it certainly would not bring sib's hair back. then thor set the mischief-maker on his feet, though still keeping a tight hold on him, and asked what he would do to repair the evil which he had done. loki promptly answered that he would go down into the mountains to the dwarfs, and get iwald's sons to make some golden hair for sib, as good as that which he had destroyed. now iwald had had seven sons, and these all lived deep below the earth in the great caverns which lie below the mountains, and these sons were small and dark; they did not like the daylight for they were dwarfs who could see best without the sun to dazzle their eyes; they knew where gold and silver grew, and they could tell where to find beautiful shining stones, which were red, and white, and yellow, and green; they knew the way all over the world by running through caverns and passages under the mountains, and wherever they could find precious stones or metals they built a furnace, and made an anvil, and hammer and bellows, and everything that was wanted in a smithy; for they knew how to fashion the most wonderful things from gold and iron and stone, and they had knowledge which made them more powerful than the people who lived above the ground. thor let the mischief-maker go to get the help of the dwarfs to repair the wrong which he had done, and loki sought about the mountain-side until he found a hole which would lead him into iwald's cave, and then he promptly dropped into it. there in a dark cave gleaming with many sparkling lights he went to the two cleverest dwarfs who were named sindri and brok, and told them what it was he wanted, adding that he would be in sore trouble with thor if they could not help him. now sindri and brok knew all about loki perfectly well; they knew all about his mischievous ways and the evil he so often wrought, but as they liked thor and sib they were willing to give the help which was asked of them. thus without more ado, for these dwarfs never wasted their words, sindri and brok began their work. huge blocks of earth-brown stone were cast into the furnace until they were in a white heat, when drop by drop red gold trickled from them into the ashes. this was all gathered together, and the glistening heap taken to the dwarf women, who, crushing it in their hands before it had hardened, drew it out upon their wheels, and spun it into fine soft hair. while they were doing this brok sought amongst his treasures until he found the blue of the ocean and the tough inner pith of an underground tree; these, with other things, were cast into the furnace, and afterwards beaten with his hammer. as the rhythmic strokes fell, the women sang a song which was like the voice of a strong, steady wind. then when this work was finished, the smith drew forth a little ship, which was carefully placed on one side. the third time the dwarf went to a dark corner, and brought out an ugly bent bar of iron, and this, with two feathers from the wings of the wind, was heated to melting whiteness, and wrought with great cunning and extreme care, for it was to be a spear for odin himself, the greatest of all the heroes. then brok and sindri called loki to them and giving him these three things bade him hasten back to the gods at asgard and appease their wrath. loki, however, was already beginning to feel sorry that he had been so successful; he liked teasing folk but he did not like having to atone for his mischief afterwards. he turned the marvelous gifts over scornfully in his hands, and said that he did not see anything very wonderful in _them;_ then, looking at sindri he added, "however, brok has hammered them very skilfully, and i will wager my head that you could not make anything better." now the brother dwarfs had not by any means expected gratitude, but neither had they expected any such rudeness as this, so sindri determined to give loki a lesson. going to one corner of the smithy he picked up a pig-skin and taking the hammer in his hands, told his brother to blow steadily, neither to falter nor to fail until he passed the word that the work was done. then with strength and gentleness he wrought with his tools, having cast nothing into the heat but the pig-skin; with mighty blows and delicate touches he brought thickness and substance into it, until a board looked at him from the flames. loki, fearing for his head, changed himself into an enormous forest fly, and settling upon brok's hand, stung with vicious fury; but the dwarf would not trouble to brush the fly away, and steadily moved the bellows until his brother called to him to stop, when they drew forth a strong flexible boar whose bristles were of the finest gold. then without saying anything or paying any attention to the spiteful words which loki kept uttering, sindri chose from a heap of gold the most solid lump he could find and flung it into the white flames. thrice it was heated and cooled, and the dark elf turned it and worked it with wonderful skill, and in the glow loki saw a broad red ring, which seemed to live and move. again he tried to spoil the work as a fly, and bit deeply into brok's neck, but brok would not so much as raise his hand to rid him of the pain. when the ring was finally laid to cool, so marvelously had it been wrought that from it each ninth night would fall eight rings as beautiful as itself. now came the last test of sindri's cunning. he cast into the furnace a piece of fine iron, and told brok his hand must neither tremble nor stay, or the whole of their work would be useless. then with wild songs of strength upon his lips he hammered and tapped, until those who were in the cave felt that they were out among the roaring waves; they could hear the ice mountains grind and crash to pieces, and the thunder of thor's chariot wheels rushing through the heavens. a frenzied horror seized upon loki's mind. if these wretched dwarfs were going to make anything to add to thor's strength he knew that it would be his own ruin. so, changing himself to a hornet, he sprang upon the forehead of brok, and dug so fiercely into his eyelids that the blood trickled down and blinded him. then the dwarf let go of the bellows for one moment to clear his eyes, and sindri cried out that what lay in the furnace came near to being spoiled, and with that he took a red-hot hammer up with his tongs. it was neither pretty, nor particularly large, while the handle was an inch too short because of loki's spite. then brok and loki set out for asgard, loki carrying the three wonderful things which had been given to him, while brok carried the three marvels which sindri had so cunningly wrought and accompanied the mischief-maker, that the gods might judge who had won the wager so rashly offered by loki. when they reached asgard the gods seated themselves on their high seats agreeing among themselves that odin, thor and frey should be judges in this case. first, loki offered to odin the spear gungner which was so wonderfully made that it never failed to hit the thing at which it was thrown, and it always sped back to the hand which had thrown it. later, when odin carried this spear in battle, if he shook it over his enemies they became so frightened that they all wanted to run away, but if he shook it over his friends they were so filled with courage that they could not be conquered. then thor received the hair, and when it was placed upon sib's head it grew to her like living tresses, curling and waving in the wind. to frey the ship was given, and though it was so small that it could be folded and carried in his pocket, when it was placed upon the waves it would grow large enough to hold an army of warriors with all their war gear; besides, as soon as the sails were hoisted, the wind would blow it whithersoever it was desired that the ship should go. brok then made his offerings, and to odin he gave the ring drapnir which had been made with such magic skill that every ninth night eight other rings dropped off it, though no one could see how they came; this the greatest of the gods ever wore upon his arm, until the death of his beautiful son baldur, when, as token of his great love he placed it upon the dead youth's breast as he lay on his funeral pyre. to frey was given the golden boar, which would run faster than any horse, over the sea or through the air, and wherever it went, there it would be light, because the bristles shone so brightly. to thor brok gave the dull-looking hammer, saying, that whatever he struck with it would be destroyed; that no blow could be hard enough to hurt it; that if he threw it, it would return to him so that he could never lose it; and that as he wished so would its size be--yet there was one fault about it, and that was that the handle was an inch too short. it was with great joy that thor took this treasure, knowing that in it he had something to help him in fighting the evil rime-giants who were always trying to get the whole world for themselves until driven back by him. then the gods decided that of all the gifts the hammer was the best, and that, therefore, loki had lost his wager and must lose his head. loki offered to give all sorts of things to save himself, but the dwarf would not listen to any of them. "catch me, then!" cried the mischievous one; but when brok stretched his hand upon him loki had gone, for he wore shoes which would carry him over the sea or through the air. "catch him!" cried the ugly little dwarf piteously to thor, and in an instant loki stood before them, trembling in thor's strong grasp. then the clever one argued that it was his head only which had been wagered, and that not one little tiny bit of his neck might be taken, or the dwarf would have more than his bargain. at this brok cried impatiently that the head of a wicked person was of no use to him, all that he wanted was to stop loki's tongue so that he could work less evil, and he took a knife and thread and tried to pierce holes in loki's lips, but loki bewitched the knife so that it would not cut. "if only i had sindri's awl," sighed the dwarf, and instantly his brother's awl was in his hand. swiftly it pierced the lips of the mischief-maker, and swiftly brok sewed them together and broke off the thread at the end of the sewing. then the gods gave presents for the dwarfs in return for their wonderful things, and brok returned to his cave. as for loki, it was not long before he loosed his lips and returned to his mischief-making. the punishment of loki adapted from a. and e. keary's version after the death of baldur, loki never again ventured to intrude himself into the presence of the gods. he knew well enough that he had now done what could never be forgiven him, and that, for the future, he must bend all his cunning and vigilance to the task of hiding himself from the gaze of those whom he had so injured, and escaping the just punishment he had brought upon himself. "the world is large, and i am very clever," said loki to himself, as he turned his back upon asgard, and wandered out into manheim; "there is no end to the thick woods, and no measure for the deep waters; neither is there any possibility of counting the various forms under which i shall disguise myself. odin will never be able to find me; i have no cause to fear." but though loki repeated this over and over again to himself, he _was_ afraid. he wandered far into the thick woods, and covered himself with the deep waters; he climbed to the tops of misty hills, and crouched in the dark of hollow caves; but above the wood, and through the water, and down into the darkness, a single ray of calm, clear light seemed always to follow him, and he knew that it came from the eye of odin who was watching him from air throne. then he tried to escape the watchful eye by disguising himself under various shapes. sometimes he was an eagle on a lonely mountain-crag; sometimes he hid himself as one among a troop of timid reindeer; sometimes he lay in the nest of a wood-pigeon; sometimes he swam, a bright-spotted fish, in the sea; but, wherever he was, among living creatures, or alone with dead nature, everything seemed to know him, and to find a voice in which to say to him, "you are loki, and you have killed baldur." air, earth, or water, there was no rest for him anywhere. tired at last of seeking what he could nowhere find, loki built himself a house near a narrow, glittering river which, lower down flashed from a high rock into the sea below. he took care that his house should have four doors in it, that he might look out on every side and catch the first glimpse of the gods when they came, as he knew they would come, to take him away. here his wife, siguna, and his two sons, ali and nari, came to live with him. siguna was a kind woman, far too good and kind for loki. she felt sorry for him now that she saw he was in great fear, and that every living thing had turned against him, and she would have hidden him from the just anger of the gods if she could; but the two sons cared little about their father's dread and danger; they spent all their time in quarreling with each other; and their loud, angry voices, sounding above the waterfall, would speedily have betrayed the hiding-place, even if odin's piercing eye had not already found it out. at last, one day when he was sitting in the middle of his house looking alternately out of all the four doors and amusing himself as well as he could by making a fishing-net, he spied in the distance the whole company of the gods approaching his house. the sight of them coming all together--beautiful, and noble, and free--pierced loki with a pang that was worse than death. he rose without daring to look again, threw his net on a fire that burned on the floor, and, rushing to the side of the little river, he turned himself into a salmon, swam down to the deepest, stillest pool at the bottom, and hid himself between two stones. the gods entered the house, and looked all round in vain for loki, till kvasir, one of odin's sons, famous for his keen sight, spied out the remains of the fishing-net in the fire; then odin knew at once that there was a river near, and that it was there where loki had hidden himself. he ordered his sons to make a new net, and to cast it into the water, and drag out whatever living thing they could find there. it was done as he desired. thor held one end of the net, and all the rest of the gods drew the other through the water. when they pulled it up the first time, however, it was empty, and they would have gone away disappointed had not kvasir, looking earnestly at the meshes of the net, saw that something living had certainly touched them. they then added a weight to the net, and threw it with such force that it reached the bottom of the river, and dragged up the stones in the pool. loki now saw the danger he was in of being caught in the net, and, as there was no other way of escape, he rose to the surface, swam down the river as quickly as he could, and leaped over the net into the waterfall. he swam and leaped quick as a flash of lightning, but not so quickly but that the gods saw him, knew him through his disguise, and resolved that he should no longer escape. they themselves divided into two bands. thor waded down the river to the waterfall; the other gods stood in a group below. loki swam backwards and forwards between them. first he thought he would dart out into the sea, and then that he would spring over the net back again into the river. this last seemed the easiest way of escape, and with the greatest speed he attempted it. thor, however, was watching for him, and as soon as loki leaped out of the water he stretched out his hand and caught him while he was yet turning in the air. loki wriggled his slippery, slimy length through thor's fingers; but the thunderer grasped him tightly by the tail, and, holding him in this manner in this hand, waded to the shore. there father odin and the other gods met him; and, at odin's first searching look, loki was obliged to drop his disguise, and, cowering and frightened, to assume his proper shape before the assembled lords. one by one they turned their faces from him; for, in looking at him, they seemed to see over again the death of baldur the beloved. you were told that there were high rocks looking over the sea near loki's house. one of these, higher than the rest, had midway four projecting stones, and to these the gods resolved to bind loki so that he should never again be able to torment the inhabitants of manheim or asgard by his evil-doings. thor proposed to return to asgard, to bring a chain with which to bind the prisoner; but odin assured him that he had no need to take such a journey. "loki," he said, "has already forged for himself a chain stronger than any you can make. while we have been occupied in catching him, his two sons, ali and nari, transformed into wolves by their evil passions, have fought with and destroyed each other. with their sinews we must make a chain to bind their father, and from that he can never escape." it was done as asa odin said. a rope was made of the dead wolves' sinews, and as soon as it touched loki's body it turned into bands of iron and bound him immovably to the rock. secured in this manner the gods left him. [illustration: the punishment of loki.] but his punishment did not end here. a snake, whose fangs dropped poison, glided to the top of the rock and leaned his head over to peer at loki. the eyes of the two met and fixed each other. the serpent could never move away afterwards; but every moment a burning drop from his tongue fell down on loki's shuddering face. in all the world there was only one who pitied him. his kind wife ever afterwards stood beside him and held a cup over his head to catch the poison. when the cup was full, she was obliged to turn away to empty it, and the deadly drops fell again on loki's face. he shuddered and shrank from them, and the whole earth trembled. so will he lie bound till the twilight of the gods be here. myths of india the blind man, the deaf man, and the donkey adapted by m. frere a blind man and a deaf man once entered into partnership. the deaf man was to see for the blind man, and the blind man was to hear for the deaf man. one day they went together to an entertainment where there was music and dancing. the deaf man said: "the dancing is very good, but the music is not worth listening to"; and the blind man said: "on the contrary, i think the music very good, but the dancing is not worth looking at." after this they went together for a walk in the jungle, and there found a washerman's donkey that had strayed away from its owner, and a great big kettle (such as washermen boil clothes in), which the donkey was carrying with him. the deaf man said to the blind man: "brother, here are a donkey and a washerman's great big kettle, with nobody to own them! let us take them with us--they may be useful to us some day." "very well," said the blind man; "we will take them with us." so the blind man and the deaf man went on their way, taking the donkey and the great big kettle with them. a little farther on they came to an ant's nest, and the deaf man said to the blind man: "here are a number of very fine black ants, much larger than any i ever saw before. let us take some of them home to show our friends." "very well," answered the blind man; "we will take them as a present to our friends." so the deaf man took a silver snuff-box out of his pocket, and put four or five of the finest black ants into it; which done, they continued their journey. but before they had gone very far a terrible storm came on. it thundered and lightened and rained and blew with such fury that it seemed as if the whole heavens' and earth were at war. "oh dear! oh dear!" cried the deaf man, "how dreadful this lightning is! let us make haste and get to some place of shelter." "i don't see that it's dreadful at all," answered the blind man; "but the thunder is very terrible; we had better certainly seek some place of shelter." now, not far off was a lofty building, which looked exactly like a fine temple. the deaf man saw it, and he and the blind man resolved to spend the night there; and having reached the place, they went in and shut the door, taking the donkey and the great big kettle with them. but this building, which they mistook for a temple was in truth no temple at all, but the house of a very powerful rakshas or ogre; and hardly had the blind man, the deaf man, and the donkey got inside and fastened the door, than the rakshas, who had been out, returned home. to his surprise, he found the door fastened and heard people moving about inside his house. "ho! ho!" cried he to himself, "some men have got in here, have they? i'll soon make mince-meat of them." so he began to roar in a voice louder than the thunder, and to cry: "let me into my house this minute, you wretches; let me in, let me in, i say," and to kick the door and batter it with his great fists. but though his voice was very powerful, his appearance was still more alarming, insomuch that the deaf man, who was peeping at him through a chink in the wall, felt so frightened that he did not know what to do. but the blind man was very brave (because he couldn't see), and went up to the door and called out: "who are you, and what do you mean by coming battering at the door in this way at this time of night?" "i'm a rakshas," answered the rakshas angrily, "and this is my house. let me in this instant or i'll kill you." all this time the deaf man, who was watching the rakshas, was shivering and shaking in a terrible fright, but the blind man was very brave (because he couldn't see), and he called out again: "oh, you're a rakshas, are you? well, if you're rakshas, i'm bakshas; and bakshas is as good as rakshas." "bakshas!" roared the rakshas. "bakshas! bakshas! what nonsense is this? there is no such creature as a bakshas!" "go away," replied the blind man, "and don't dare to make any further disturbance, lest i punish you with a vengeance; for know that i'm bakshas, and bakshas is rakshas's father." "my father?" answered the rakshas. "heavens and earth! bakshas, and my father! i never heard such an extraordinary thing in my life. you my father; and in there! i never knew my father was called bakshas!" "yes," replied the blind man; "go away instantly, i command you, for i am your father bakshas." "very well," answered the rakshas (for he began to get puzzled and frightened); "but if you are my father, let me first see your face." (for he thought: "perhaps they are deceiving me.") the blind man and the deaf man didn't know what to do; but at last they opened the door a very tiny chink and poked the donkey's nose out. when the rakshas saw it he thought to himself: "bless me, what a terribly ugly face my father bakshas has!" he then called out: "o father bakshas, you have a very big, fierce face; but people have sometimes very big heads and very little bodies. pray let me see your body as well as head before i go away." then the blind man and the deaf man rolled the washerman's great big kettle with a thundering noise past the chink in the door, and the rakshas, who was watching attentively, was very much surprised when he saw this great black thing rolling along the floor, and he thought: "in truth, my father bakshas has a very big body as well as a big head. he's big enough to eat me up altogether. i'd better go away." but still he could not help being a little doubtful, so he cried: "o bakshas, father bakshas! you have indeed got a very big head and a very big body; but do, before i go away, let me hear you scream," for all rakshas scream fearfully. then the cunning deaf man (who was getting less frightened) pulled the silver snuff-box out of his pocket, and took the black ants out of it, and put one black ant in the donkey's right ear, and another black ant in the donkey's left ear, and another and another. the ants pinched the poor donkey's ears dreadfully, and the donkey was so hurt and frightened he began to bellow as loud as he could: "eh augh! eh augh! eh augh! augh! augh!" and at this terrible noise the rakshas fled away in a great fright, saying: "enough, enough, father bakshas! the sound of your voice would make the most refractory obedient." and no sooner had he gone than the deaf man took the ants out of the donkey's ears, and he and the blind man spent the rest of the night in peace and comfort. next morning the deaf man woke the blind man early, saying: "awake, brother, awake: here we are indeed in luck! the whole floor is covered with heaps of gold and silver and precious stones." and so it was, for the rakshas owned a vast amount of treasure, and the whole house was full of it. "that is a good thing," said the blind man. "show me where it is and i will help you to collect it." so they collected as much treasure as possible and made four great bundles of it. the blind man took one great bundle, the deaf man took another, and, putting the other two great bundles on the donkey, they started off to return home. but the rakshas, whom they had frightened away the night before, had not gone very far off, and was waiting to see what his father bakshas might look like by daylight. he saw the door of his house open and watched attentively, when out walked--only a blind man, a deaf man, and a donkey, who were all three laden with large bundles of his treasure. the blind man carried one bundle, the deaf man carried another bundle, and two bundles were on the donkey. the rakshas was extremely angry, and immediately called six of his friends to help him kill the blind man, the deaf man, and the donkey, and recover the treasure. the deaf man saw them coming (seven great rakshas, with hair a yard long and tusks like an elephant's), and was dreadfully frightened; but the blind man was very brave (because he couldn't see), and said: "brother, why do you lag behind in that way?" "oh!" answered the deaf man, "there are seven great rakshas with tusks like an elephant's coming to kill us! what can we do?" "let us hide the treasure in the bushes," said the blind man; "and do you lead me to a tree; then i will climb up first, and you shall climb up afterward, and so we shall be out of their way." the deaf man thought this good advice; so he pushed the donkey and the bundles of treasure into the bushes, and led the blind man to a high soparee-tree that grew close by; but he was a very cunning man, this deaf man, and instead of letting the blind man climb up first and following him, he got up first and let the blind man clamber after, so that he was farther out of harm's way than his friend. when the rakshas arrived at the place and saw them both perched out of reach in the soparee-tree, he said to his friends: "let us get on each other's shoulders; we shall then be high enough to pull them down." so one rakshas stooped down, and the second got on his shoulders, and the third on his, and the fourth on his, and the fifth on his, and the sixth on his; and the seventh and the last rakshas (who had invited all the others) was just climbing up when the deaf man (who was looking over the blind man's shoulder) got so frightened that in his alarm he caught hold of his friend's arm, crying: "they're coming, they're coming!" the blind man was not in a very secure position, and was sitting at his ease, not knowing how close the rakshas were. the consequence was, that when the deaf man gave him this unexpected push, he lost his balance and tumbled down on to the neck of the seventh rakshas, who was just then climbing up. the blind man had no idea where he was, but thought he had got on to the branch of some other tree; and, stretching out his hand for something to catch hold of, caught hold of the rakshas's two great ears, and pinched them very hard in his surprise and fright. the rakshas couldn't think what it was that had come tumbling down upon him; and the weight of the blind man upsetting his balance, down he also fell to the ground, knocking down in their turn the sixth, fifth, fourth, third, second, and first rakshas, who all rolled one over another, and lay in a confused heap at the foot of the tree together. meanwhile the blind man called out to his friend: "where am i? what has happened? where am i? where am i?" the deaf man (who was safe up in the tree) answered: "well done, brother! never fear! never fear! you're all right, only hold on tight. i'm coming down to help you." but he had not the least intention of leaving his place of safety. however, he continued to call out: "never mind, brother; hold on as tight as you can. i'm coming, i'm coming," and the more he called out, the harder the blind man pinched the rakshas's ears, which he mistook for some kind of palm branches. the six other rakshas, who had succeeded, after a good deal of kicking, in extricating themselves from their unpleasant position, thought they had had quite enough of helping their friend, and ran away as fast as they could; and the seventh, thinking from their going that the danger must be greater than he imagined, and being, moreover, very much afraid of the mysterious creature that sat on his shoulders, put his hands to the back of his ears and pushed off the blind man, and then, (without staying to see who or what he was) followed his six companions as fast as he could. as soon as all the rakshas were out of sight, the deaf man came down from the tree, and, picking up the blind man, embraced him, saying: "i could not have done better myself. you have frightened away all our enemies, but you see i came to help you as fast as possible." he then dragged the donkey and the bundles of treasure out of the bushes, gave the blind man one bundle to carry, took the second himself, and put the remaining two on the donkey, as before. this done, the whole party set off to return home. but when they had got nearly out of the jungle the deaf man said to the blind man: "we are now close to the village; but if we take all this treasure home with us, we shall run great risk of being robbed. i think our best plan would be to divide it equally; then you can take care of your half and i will take care of mine, and each one can hide his share here in the jungle, or wherever pleases him best." "very well," said the blind man; "do you divide what we have in the bundles into two equal portions, keeping one half yourself and giving me the other." the cunning deaf man, however, had no intention of giving up half of the treasure to the blind man; so he first took his own bundle of treasure and hid it in the bushes, and then he took the two bundles off the donkey and hid them in the bushes; and he took a good deal of treasure out of the blind man's bundle, which he also hid. then, taking the small quantity that remained, he divided it into two equal portions, and placing half before the blind man and half in front of himself, said: "there, brother, is your share to do what you please with." the blind man put out his hand, but when he felt what a very little heap of treasure it was, he got very angry, and cried: "this is not fair--you are deceiving me; you have kept almost all the treasure for yourself and only given me a very little." "oh, oh! how can you think so?" answered the deaf man; "but if you will not believe me, feel for yourself. see, my heap of treasure is no larger than yours." the blind man put out his hands again to feel how much his friend had kept; but in front of the deaf man lay only a very small heap, no larger than what he had himself received. at this he got very cross, and said: "come, come, this won't do. you think you can cheat me in this way because i am blind; but i'm not so stupid as all that, i carried a great bundle of treasure, you carried a great bundle of treasure, and there were two great bundles on the donkey. do you mean to pretend that all that made no more treasure than these two little heaps! no, indeed; i know better than that." "stuff and nonsense!" answered the deaf man. "stuff or no stuff," continued the other, "you are trying to take me in, and i won't be taken in by you." "no, i'm not," said the deaf man. "yes, you are," said the blind man; and so they went on bickering, scolding, growling, contradicting, until the blind man got so enraged that he gave the deaf man a tremendous box on the ear. the blow was so violent that it made the deaf man hear! the deaf man, very angry, gave his neighbor in return so hard a blow in the face that it opened the blind man's eyes! so the deaf man could hear as well as see, and the blind man could see as well as hear! this astonished them both so much that they became good friends at once. the deaf man confessed to have hidden the bulk of the treasure, which he thereupon dragged forth from its place of concealment, and having divided it equally, they went home and enjoyed themselves. harisarman there was in a certain village, a certain brahman named harisarman. he was poor and foolish and unhappy for want of employment, and he had very many children. he wandered about begging with his family, and at last he reached a certain city, and entered the service of a rich householder called sthuladatta. his sons became keepers of sthuladatta's cows and other property, and his wife a servant to him, and he himself lived near his house, performing the duty of an attendant. one day there was a feast on account of the marriage of the daughter of sthuladatta, largely attended by many friends of the bridegroom and merry-makers. harisarman hoped that he would be able to fill himself up to the throat with oil and flesh and other dainties, and get the same for his family, in the house of his patron. while he was anxiously expecting to be fed, no one thought of him. then he was distressed at getting nothing to eat, and he said to his wife at night: "it is owing to my poverty and stupidity that i am treated with such disrespect here; so i will pretend by means of an artifice to possess a knowledge of magic, so that i may become an object of respect to this sthuladatta; so, when you get an opportunity, tell him that i possess magical knowledge." he said this to her, and after turning the matter over in his mind, while people were asleep he took away from the house of sthuladatta a horse on which his master's son-in-law rode. he placed it in concealment at some distance, and in the morning the friends of the bridegroom could not find the horse, though they searched in every direction. then, while sthuladatta was distressed at the evil omen, and searching for the thieves who had carried off the horse, the wife of harisarman came and said to him: "my husband is a wise man, skilled in astrology and magical sciences; he can get the horse back for you--why do you not ask him?" when sthuladatta heard that, he called harisarman, who said, "yesterday i was forgotten, but to-day, now the horse is stolen, i am called to mind;" and sthuladatta then propitiated the brahman with these words: "i forgot you, forgive me," and asked him to tell him who had taken away their horse. then harisarman drew all kinds of pretended diagrams, and said: "the horse has been placed by thieves on the boundary line south from this place. it is concealed there, and before it is carried off to a distance, as it will be at close of day, go quickly and bring it." when they heard that, many men ran and brought the horse quickly, praising the discernment of harisarman. then harisarman was honored by all men as a sage, and dwelt there in happiness, honored by sthuladatta. now, as days went on, much treasure, both of gold and jewels, had been stolen by a thief from the palace of the king. as the thief was not known, the king quickly summoned harisarman on account of his reputation for knowledge of magic. and he, when summoned, tried to gain time, and said: "i will tell you to-morrow," and then he was placed in a chamber by the king and carefully guarded. and he was sad because he had pretended to have knowledge. now, in that palace there was a maid named jihva (which means tongue), who, with the assistance of her brother, had stolen that treasure from the interior of the palace. she, being alarmed at harisarman's knowledge, went at night and applied her ear to the door of that chamber in order to find out what he was about. and harisarman, who was alone inside, was at that very moment blaming his own tongue, that had made a vain assumption of knowledge. he said: "oh, tongue, what is this that you have done through your greediness? wicked one, you will soon receive punishment in full." when jihva heard this, she thought, in her terror, that she had been discovered by this wise man, and she managed to get in where he was, and, falling at his feet, she said to the supposed wizard: "brahman, here i am, that jihva whom you have discovered to be the thief of the treasure, and after i took it i buried it in the earth in a garden behind the palace, under a pomegranate tree. so spare me, and receive the small quantity of gold which is in my possession." when harisarman heard that, he said to her proudly: "depart, i know all this; i know the past, present, and future, but i will not denounce you, a miserable creature that has implored my protection. but whatever gold is in your possession you must give back to me." when he said this to the maid, she consented, and departed quickly. but harisarman reflected in his astonishment: "fate brings about, as if in sport, things impossible; for, when calamity was so near, who would have thought chance would have brought us success? while i was blaming my jihva, the thief jihva suddenly flung herself at my feet. secret crimes manifest themselves by means of fear." thus thinking, he passed the night happily in the chamber. and in the morning he brought the king, by some skilful parade of pretended knowledge, into the garden and led him up to the treasure, which was buried under the pomegranate tree, and said the thief had escaped with a part of it. then the king was pleased, and gave him the revenue of many villages. but the minister, named devajnanin, whispered in the king's ear: "how can a man possess such knowledge unattainable by men without having studied the books of magic? you may be certain that this is a specimen of the way he makes a dishonest livelihood, by having a secret intelligence with thieves. it will be much better to test him by some new artifice." then the king of his own accord brought a covered pitcher into which he had thrown a frog, and said to harisarman: "brahman, if you can guess what there is in this pitcher, i will do you great honor to-day." when the brahman harisarman heard that, he thought that his last hour had come, and he called to mind the pet name of "froggie," which his father had given him in his childhood in sport; and, impelled by luck, he called to himself by his pet name, lamenting his hard fate, and suddenly called out: "this is a fine pitcher for you, froggie; it will soon become the swift destroyer of your helpless self." the people there, when they heard him say that, raised a shout of applause, because his speech chimed in so well with the object presented to him, and murmured: "ah! a great sage; he knows even about the frog!" then the king, thinking that this was all due to knowledge of divination, was highly delighted, and gave harisarman the revenue of more villages, with gold, an umbrella, and state carriages of all kinds. so harisarman prospered in the world. why the fish laughed as a certain fisherwoman passed by a palace crying her fish, the queen appeared at one of the windows and beckoned her to come near and show what she had. at that moment a very big fish jumped about in the bottom of the basket. "is it a he or a she?" inquired the queen. "i wish to purchase a she-fish." on hearing this the fish laughed aloud. "it's a he," replied the fisherwoman, and proceeded on her rounds. the queen returned to her room in a great rage; and on coming to see her in the evening, the king noticed that something had disturbed her. "are you indisposed?" he said. "no; but i am very much annoyed at the strange behavior of a fish. a woman brought me one to-day, and on my inquiring whether it was a male or female, the fish laughed most rudely." "a fish laugh! impossible! you must be dreaming." "i am not a fool. i speak of what i have seen with my own eyes and have heard with my own ears." "passing strange! be it so. i will inquire concerning it." on the morrow the king repeated to his vizier what his wife had told him, and bade him investigate the matter, and be ready with a satisfactory answer within six months, on pain of death. the vizier promised to do his best, though he felt almost certain of failure. for five months he labored indefatigably to find a reason for the laughter of the fish. he sought everywhere and from every one. the wise and learned, and they who were skilled in magic and in all manner of trickery, were consulted. nobody, however, could explain the matter; and so he returned broken-hearted to his house, and began to arrange his affairs in prospect of certain death, for he had had sufficient experience of the king to know that his majesty would not go back from his threat. among other things, he advised his son to travel for a time, until the king's anger should have somewhat cooled. the young fellow, who was both clever and handsome, started off whithersoever fate might lead him. he had been gone some days, when he fell in with an old farmer, who also was on a journey to a certain village. finding the old man very pleasant, he asked him if he might accompany him, professing to be on a visit to the same place. the old farmer agreed, and they walked along together. the day was hot, and the way was long and weary. "don't you think it would be pleasanter if you and i sometimes gave each other a lift?" said the youth. "what a fool the man is!" thought the old farmer. presently they passed through a field of corn ready for the sickle, and looking like a sea of gold as it waved to and fro in the breeze. "is this eaten or not?" said the young man. not understanding his meaning, the old man replied, "i don't know." after a little while the two travelers arrived at a big village, where the young man gave his companion a clasp-knife, and said, "take this, friend, and get two horses with it; but mind and bring it back, for it is very precious." the old man, looking half amused and half angry, pushed back the knife, muttering something to the effect that his friend was either a fool himself, or else trying to play the fool with him. the young man pretended not to notice his reply, and remained almost silent till they reached the city, a short distance outside which was the old farmer's house. they walked about the bazaar and went to the mosque, but nobody saluted them or invited them to come in and rest. "what a large cemetery!" exclaimed the young man. "what does the man mean," thought the old farmer, "calling this largely populated city a cemetery?" on leaving the city their way led through a graveyard where a few people were praying beside a tomb and distributing _chapatis_ and _kulchas_ to passers-by, in the name of their beloved dead. they beckoned to the two travelers and gave them as much as they would. "what a splendid city this is!" said the young man. "now, the man must surely be demented!" thought the old farmer. "i wonder what he will do next? he will be calling the land water, and the water land; and be speaking of light where there is darkness, and of darkness when it is light." however, he kept his thoughts to himself. presently they had to wade through a stream that ran along the edge of the cemetery. the water was rather deep, so the old farmer took off his shoes and pajamas and crossed over; but the young man waded through it with his shoes and pajamas on. "well! i never did see such a perfect fool, both in word and in deed," said the old man to himself. however, he liked the fellow; and thinking that he would amuse his wife and daughter, he invited him to come and stay at his house as long as he had occasion to remain in the village. "thank you very much," the young man replied; "but let me first inquire, if you please, whether the beam of your house is strong." the old farmer left him in despair, and entered his house laughing. "there is a man in yonder field," he said, after returning their greetings. "he has come the greater part of the way with me, and i wanted him to put up here as long as he had to stay in this village. but the fellow is such a fool that i cannot make anything out of him. he wants to know if the beam of this house is all right. the man must be mad!" and saying this, he burst into a fit of laughter. "father," said the farmer's daughter, who was a very sharp and wise girl, "this man, whosoever he is, is no fool, as you deem him. he only wishes to know if you can afford to entertain him." "oh, of course," replied the farmer. "i see. well, perhaps you can help me to solve some of his other mysteries. while we were walking together he asked whether he should carry me or i should carry him, as he thought that would be a pleasanter mode of proceeding." "most assuredly," said the girl; "he meant that one of you should tell a story to beguile the time." "oh yes. well, we were passing through a corn-field, when he asked me whether it was eaten or not." "and didn't you know the meaning of this, father? he simply wished to know if the man was in debt or not; because, if the owner of the field was in debt, then the produce of the field was as good as eaten to him; that is, it would have to go to his creditors." "yes, yes, yes, of course! then, on entering a certain village, he bade me take his clasp-knife and get two horses with it, and bring back the knife to him." "are not two stout sticks as good as two horses for helping one along on the road? he only asked you to cut a couple of sticks and be careful not to lose his knife." "i see," said the farmer. "while we were walking over the city we did not see anybody that we knew, and not a soul gave us a scrap of anything to eat, till we were passing the cemetery; but there some people called to us and put into our hands some _chapatis_ and _kulchas_, so my companion called the city a cemetery, and the cemetery a city." "this also is to be understood, father, if one thinks of the city as the place where everything is to be obtained, and of inhospitable people as worse than the dead. the city, though crowded with people, was as if dead, as far as you were concerned; while, in the cemetery, which is crowded with the dead, you were saluted by kind friends and provided with bread." "true, true!" said the astonished farmer. "then, just now, when we were crossing the stream, he waded through it without taking off his shoes and pajamas." "i admire his wisdom," replied the girl. "i have often thought how stupid people were to venture into that swiftly flowing stream and over those sharp stones with bare feet. the slightest stumble and they would fall, and be wetted from head to foot. this friend of yours is a most wise man. i should like to see him and speak to him." "very well," said the farmer; "i will go and find him, and bring him in." "tell him, father, that our beams are strong enough, and then he will come in. i'll send on ahead a present to the man, to show him that we can afford to have him for our guest." accordingly she called a servant and sent him to the young man with a present of a basin of _ghee_, twelve _chapatis_, and a jar of milk, and the following message: "o friend, the moon is full; twelve months make a year, and the sea is overflowing with water." half-way the bearer of this present and message met his little son, who, seeing what was in the basket, begged his father to give him some of the food. his father foolishly complied. presently he saw the young man, and gave him the rest of the present and the message. "give your mistress my salaam," he replied, "and tell her that the moon is new, and that i can find only eleven months in the year, and the sea is by no means full." not understanding the meaning of these words, the servant repeated them word for word, as he had heard them, to his mistress; and thus his theft was discovered, and he was severely punished. after a little while the young man appeared with the old farmer. great attention was shown to him, and he was treated in every way as if he were the son of a great man, although his humble host knew nothing of his origin. at length he told them everything--about the laughing of the fish, his father's threatened execution, and his own banishment--and asked their advice as to what he should do. "the laughing of the fish," said the girl, "which seems to have been the cause of all this trouble, indicates that there is a man in the palace who is plotting against the king's life." "joy, joy!" exclaimed the vizier's son. "there is yet time for me to return and save my father from an ignominious and unjust death, and the king from danger." the following day he hastened back to his own country, taking with him the farmer's daughter. immediately on arrival he ran to the palace and informed his father of what he had heard. the poor vizier, now almost dead from the expectation of death, was at once carried to the king, to whom he repeated the news that his son had just brought. "never!" said the king. "but it must be so, your majesty," replied the vizier; "and in order to prove the truth of what i have heard, i pray you to call together all the maids in your palace and order them to jump over a pit, which must be dug. we'll soon find out whether there is any man there." the king had the pit dug, and commanded all the maids belonging to the palace to try to jump over it. all of them tried, but only one succeeded. that one was found to be a man! thus was the queen satisfied, and the faithful old vizier saved. afterward, as soon as could be, the vizier's son married the old farmer's daughter; and a most happy marriage it was. muchie lal adapted by m. frere once upon a time there were a rajah and ranee who had no children. long had they wished and prayed that the gods would send them a son, but it was all in vain--their prayers were not granted. one day a number of fish were brought into the royal kitchen to be cooked for the rajah's dinner, and amongst them was one little fish that was not dead, but all the rest were dead. one of the palace maid-servants, seeing this, took the little fish and put him in a basin of water. shortly afterward the ranee saw him, and thinking him very pretty, kept him as a pet; and because she had no children she lavished all her affection on the fish and loved him as a son; and the people called him muchie rajah (the fish prince). in a little while muchie rajah had grown too long to live in the small basin, so they put him into a larger one, and then (when he grew too long for that) into a big tub. in time, however, muchie rajah became too large for even the big tub to hold him; so the ranee had a tank made for him, in which he lived very happily, and twice a day she fed him with boiled rice. now, though the people fancied muchie rajah was only a fish, this was not the case. he was, in truth, a young rajah who had angered the gods, and been by them turned into a fish and thrown into the river as a punishment. one morning, when the ranee brought him his daily meal of boiled rice, muchie rajah called out to her and said, "queen mother, queen mother, i am so lonely here all by myself! cannot you get me a wife?" the ranee promised to try, and sent messengers to all the people she knew, to ask if they would allow one of their children to marry her son, the fish prince. but they all answered: "we cannot give one of our dear little daughters to be devoured by a great fish, even though he is the muchie rajah and so high in your majesty's favor." at news of this the ranee did not know what to do. she was so foolishly fond of muchie rajah, however, that she resolved to get him a wife at any cost. again she sent out messengers, but this time she gave them a great bag containing a lac of gold mohurs, and said to them: "go into every land until you find a wife for my muchie rajah, and to whoever will give you a child to be the muchie ranee you shall give this bag of gold mohurs." the messengers started on their search, but for some time they were unsuccessful; not even the beggars were to be tempted to sell their children, fearing the great fish would devour them. at last one day the messengers came to a village where there lived a fakeer, who had lost his first wife and married again. his first wife had had one little daughter, and his second wife also had a daughter. as it happened, the fakeer's second wife hated her little stepdaughter, always gave her the hardest work to do and the least food to eat, and tried by every means in her power to get her out of the way, in order that the child might not rival her own daughter. when she heard of the errand on which the messengers had come, she sent for them when the fakeer was out, and said to them: "give me the bag of gold mohurs, and you shall take my little daughter to marry the muchie rajah." ("for," she thought to herself, "the great fish will certainly eat the girl, and she will thus trouble us no more.") then, turning to her stepdaughter, she said: "go down to the river and wash your _saree_, that you may be fit to go with these people, who will take you to the ranee's court." at these words the poor girl went down to the river very sorrowful, for she saw no hope of escape, as her father was from home. as she knelt by the river-side, washing her _saree_ and crying bitterly, some of her tears fell into the hole of an old seven-headed cobra, who lived on the river-bank. this cobra was a very wise animal, and seeing the maiden, he put his head out of his hole, and said to her: "little girl, why do you cry?" "oh, sir," she answered, "i am very unhappy; for my father is from home, and my stepmother has sold me to the ranee's people to be the wife of the muchie rajah, that great fish, and i know he will eat me up." "do not be afraid, my daughter," said the cobra; "but take with you these three stones and tie them up in the corner of your _saree_;" and so saying, he gave her three little round pebbles. "the muchie rajah, whose wife you are to be, is not really a fish, but a rajah who has been enchanted. your home will be a little room which the ranee has had built in the tank wall. when you are taken there, wait and be sure you don't go to sleep, or the muchie rajah will certainly come and eat you up. but as you hear him coming rushing through the water, be prepared, and as soon as you see him, throw this first stone at him; he will then sink to the bottom of the tank. the second time he comes, throw the second stone, when the same thing will happen. the third time he comes, throw this third stone, and he will immediately resume his human shape." so saying, the old cobra dived down again into his hole. the fakeer's daughter took the stones and determined to do as the cobra had told her, though she hardly believed it would have the desired effect. when she reached the palace the ranee spoke kindly to her, and said to the messengers: "you have done your errand well; this is a dear little girl." then she ordered that she should be let down the side of the tank in a basket to a little room which had been prepared for her. when the fakeer's daughter got there, she thought she had never seen such a pretty place in her life (for the ranee had caused the little room to be very nicely decorated for the wife of her favorite); and she would have felt very happy away from her cruel stepmother and all the hard work she had been made to do, had it not been for the dark water that lay black and unfathomable below the door and the fear of the terrible muchie rajah. after waiting some time she heard a rushing sound, and little waves came dashing against the threshold; faster they came and faster, and the noise got louder and louder, until she saw a great fish's head above the water--muchie rajah was coming toward her open-mouthed. the fakeer's daughter seized one of the stones that the cobra had given her and threw it at him, and down he sank to the bottom of the tank; a second time he rose and came toward her, and she threw the second stone at him, and he again sank down; a third time he came more fiercely than before, when, seizing a third stone, she threw it with all her force. no sooner did it touch him than the spell was broken, and there, instead of a fish, stood a handsome young prince. the poor little fakeer's daughter was so startled that she began to cry. but the prince said to her: "pretty maiden, do not be frightened. you have rescued me from a horrible thraldom, and i can never thank you enough; but if you will be the muchie ranee, we will be married to-morrow." then he sat down on the doorstep, thinking over his strange fate and watching for the dawn. next morning early several inquisitive people came to see if the muchie rajah had eaten up his poor little wife, as they feared he would; what was their astonishment, on looking over the tank wall, to see, not the muchie rajah, but a magnificent prince! the news soon spread to the palace. down came the rajah, down came the ranee, down came all their attendants, and dragged muchie rajah and the fakeer's daughter up the side of the tank in a basket; and when they heard their story there were great and unparalleled rejoicings. the ranee said, "so i have indeed found a son at last!" and the people were so delighted, so happy and so proud of the new prince and princess, that they covered all their path with damask from the tank to the palace, and cried to their fellows, "come and see our new prince and princess! were ever any so divinely beautiful? come see a right royal couple,--a pair of mortals like the gods!" and when they reached the palace the prince was married to the fakeer's daughter. there they lived very happily for some time. the muchie ranee's stepmother, hearing what had happened, came often to see her stepdaughter, and pretended to be delighted at her good fortune; and the ranee was so good that she quite forgave all her stepmother's former cruelty, and always received her very kindly. at last, one day, the muchie ranee said to her husband, "it is a weary while since i saw my father. if you will give me leave, i should much like to visit my native village and see him again." "very well," he replied, "you may go. but do not stay away long; for there can be no happiness for me till you return." so she went, and her father was delighted to see her; but her stepmother, though she pretended to be very kind, was in reality only glad to think she had got the ranee into her power, and determined, if possible, never to allow her to return to the palace again. one day, therefore, she said to her own daughter, "it is hard that your stepsister should have become ranee of all the land instead of being eaten up by the great fish, while we gained no more than a lac of gold mohurs. do now as i bid you, that you may become ranee in her stead." she then went on to instruct her that she must invite the ranee down to the river-bank, and there beg her to let her try on her jewels, and while putting them on give her a push and drown her in the river. the girl consented, and standing by the river-bank, said to her stepsister, "sister, may i try on your jewels?--how pretty they are!" "yes," said the ranee, "and we shall be able to see in the river how they look." so, undoing her necklaces, she clasped them round the other's neck. but while she was doing so her stepsister gave her a push, and she fell backward into the water. the girl watched to see that the body did not rise, and then, running back, said to her mother, "mother, here are all the jewels, and she will trouble us no more." but it happened that just when her stepsister pushed the ranee into the river her old friend the seven-headed cobra chanced to be swimming across it, and seeing the little ranee likely to be drowned, he carried her on his back until he reached his hole, into which he took her safely. now this hole, in which the cobra and his wife and all his little ones lived, had two entrances,--the one under the water and leading to the river, and the other above water, leading out into the open fields. to this upper end of his hole the cobra took the muchie ranee, where he and his wife took care of her; and there she lived with them for some time. meanwhile, the wicked fakeer's wife, having dressed up her own daughter in all the ranee's jewels, took her to the palace, and said to the muchie rajah, "see, i have brought your wife, my dear daughter, back safe and well." the rajah looked at her, and thought, "this does not look like my wife." however, the room was dark and the girl was cleverly disguised, and he thought he might be mistaken. next day he said again: "my wife must be sadly changed or this cannot be she, for she was always bright and cheerful. she had pretty loving ways and merry words, while this woman never opens her lips." still, he did not like to seem to mistrust his wife, and comforted himself by saying, "perhaps she is tired with the long journey." on the third day, however, he could bear the uncertainty no longer, and tearing off her jewels, saw, not the face of his own little wife, but another woman. then he was very angry and turned her out of doors, saying, "begone; since you are but the wretched tool of others, i spare your life." but of the fakeer's wife he said to his guards, "fetch that woman here instantly; for unless she can tell me where my wife is, i will have her hanged." it chanced, however, that the fakeer's wife had heard of the muchie rajah having turned her daughter out of doors; so, fearing his anger, she hid herself, and was not to be found. meantime, the muchie ranee, not knowing how to get home, continued to live in the great seven-headed cobra's hole, and he and his wife and all his family were very kind to her, and loved her as if she had been one of them; and there her little son was born, and she called him muchie lal, after the muchie rajah, his father. muchie lal was a lovely child, merry and brave, and his playmates all day long were the young cobras. when he was about three years old a bangle-seller came by that way, and the muchie ranee bought some bangles from him and put them on her boy's wrists and ankles; but by the next day, in playing, he had broke them all. then, seeing the bangle-seller, the ranee called him again and bought some more, and so on every day until the bangle-seller got quite rich from selling so many bangles for the muchie lal; for the cobra's hole was full of treasure, and he gave the muchie ranee as much money to spend every day as she liked. there was nothing she wished for he did not give her, only he would not let her try to get home to her husband, which she wished more than all. when she asked him he would say: "no, i will not let you go. if your husband comes here and fetches you, it is well; but i will not allow you to wander in search of him through the land alone." and so she was obliged to stay where she was. all this time the poor muchie rajah was hunting in every part of the country for his wife, but he could learn no tidings of her. for grief and sorrow at losing her he had gone almost distracted, and did nothing but wander from place to place, crying, "she is gone! she is gone!" then, when he had long inquired without avail of all the people in her native village about her, he one day met a bangle-seller and said to him, "whence do you come?" the bangle-seller answered, "i have just been selling bangles to some people who live in a cobra's hole in the river-bank." "people! what people?" asked the rajah. "why," answered the bangle-seller, "a woman and a child; the child is the most beautiful i ever saw. he is about three years old, and of course, running about, is always breaking his bangles and his mother buys him new ones every day." "do you know what the child's name is?" said the rajah. "yes," answered the bangle-seller carelessly, "for the lady always calls him her muchie lal." "ah," thought the muchie rajah, "this must be my wife." then he said to him again, "good bangle-seller, i would see these strange people of whom you speak; cannot you take me there?" "not to-night," replied the bangle-seller; "daylight has gone, and we should only frighten them; but i shall be going there again to-morrow, and then you may come too. meanwhile, come and rest at my house for the night, for you look faint and weary." the rajah consented. next morning, however, very early, he woke the bangle-seller, saying, "pray let us go now and see the people you spoke about yesterday." "stay," said the bangle-seller; "it is much too early. i never go till after breakfast." so the rajah had to wait till the bangle-seller was ready to go. at last they started off, and when they reached the cobra's hole the first thing the rajah saw was a fine little boy playing with the young cobras. as the bangle-seller came along, jingling his bangles, a gentle voice from inside the hole called out, "come here, my muchie lal, and try on your bangles." then the muchie rajah, kneeling down at the mouth of the hole, said, "oh, lady, show your beautiful face to me." at the sound of his voice the ranee ran out, crying, "husband, husband! have you found me again?" and she told him how her sister had tried to drown her, and how the good cobra had saved her life and taken care of her and her child. then he said, "and will you now come home with me?" and she told him how the cobra would never let her go, and said, "i will first tell him of your coming; for he has been a father to me." so she called out, "father cobra, father cobra, my husband has come to fetch me; will you let me go?" "yes," he said, "if your husband has come to fetch you, you may go." and his wife said, "farewell, dear lady, we are loath to lose you, for we have loved you as a daughter." and all the little cobras were very sorrowful to think that they must lose their playfellow, the young prince. then the cobra gave the muchie rajah and the muchie ranee and muchie lal all the most costly gifts he could find in his treasure-house; and so they went home, where they lived very happy ever after. how the rajah's son won the princess labam adapted by joseph jacobs in a country there was a rajah who had an only son who every day went out to hunt. one day the ranee his mother, said to him, "you can hunt wherever you like on these three sides; but you must never go to the fourth side." this she said because she knew if he went on the fourth side he would hear of the beautiful princess labam, and that then he would leave his father and mother and seek for the princess. the young prince listened to his mother, and obeyed her for some time; but one day, when he was hunting on the three sides where he was allowed to go, he remembered what she had said to him about the fourth side, and he determined to go and see why she had forbidden him to hunt on that side. when he got there, he found himself in a jungle, and nothing in the jungle but a quantity of parrots, who lived in it. the young rajah shot at some of them, and at once they all flew away up to the sky. all, that is, but one, and this was their rajah, who was called hiraman parrot. when hiraman parrot found himself left alone, he called out to the other parrots, "don't fly away and leave me alone when the rajah's son shoots. if you desert me like this, i will tell the princess labam." then the parrots all flew back to their rajah, chattering. the prince was greatly surprised, and said, "why, these birds can talk!" then he said to the parrots, "who is the princess labam? where does she live?" but the parrots would not tell him where she lived. "you can never get to the princess labam's country." that is all they would say. the prince grew very sad when they would not tell him anything more; and he threw his gun away and went home. when he got home, he would not speak or eat, but lay on his bed for four or five days, and seemed very ill. at last he told his father and mother that he wanted to go and see the princess labam. "i must go," he said; "i must see what she is like. tell me where her country is." "we do not know where it is," answered his father and mother. "then i must go and look for it," said the prince. "no, no," they said, "you must not leave us. you are our only son. stay with us. you will never find the princess labam." "i must try and find her," said the prince. "perhaps god will show me the way. if i live and i find her, i will come back to you; but perhaps i shall die, and then i shall never see you again. still i must go." so they had to let him go, though they cried very much at parting with him. his father gave him fine clothes to wear, and a fine horse. and he took his gun, and his bow and arrows, and a great many other weapons; "for," he said, "i may want them." his father, too, gave him plenty of rupees. then he himself got his horse all ready for the journey, and he said good-by to his father and mother; and his mother took her handkerchief and wrapped some sweetmeats in it, and gave it to her son. "my child," she said to him, "when you are hungry eat some of these sweetmeats." he then set out on his journey, and rode on and on till he came to a jungle in which were a tank and shady trees. he bathed himself and his horse in the tank, and then sat down under a tree. "now," he said to himself, "i will eat some of the sweetmeats my mother gave me, and i will drink some water, and then i will continue my journey." he opened his handkerchief and took out a sweetmeat. he found an ant in it. he took out another. there was an ant in that one too. so he laid the two sweetmeats on the ground, and he took out another, and another, and another, until he had taken them all out; but in each he found an ant. "never mind," he said, "i won't eat the sweetmeats; the ants shall eat them." then the ant-rajah came and stood before him and said, "you have been good to us. if ever you are in trouble, think of me and we will come to you." the rajah's son thanked him, mounted his horse and continued his journey. he rode on and on until he came to another jungle, and there he saw a tiger who had a thorn in his foot, and was roaring loudly from the pain. "why do you roar like that?" said the young rajah. "what is the matter with you?" "i have had a thorn in my foot for twelve years," answered the tiger, "and it hurts me so; that is why i roar." "well," said the rajah's son, "i will take it out for you. but perhaps, as you are a tiger, when i have made you well, you will eat me?" "oh no," said the tiger, "i won't eat you. do make me well." then the prince took a little knife from his pocket and cut the thorn out of the tiger's foot; but when he cut, the tiger roared louder than ever--so loud that his wife heard him in the next jungle, and came bounding along to see what was the matter. the tiger saw her coming, and hid the prince in the jungle, so that she should not see him. "what man hurt you that you roared so loud?" said the wife. "no one hurt me," answered the husband; "but a rajah's son came and took the thorn out of my foot." "where is he? show him to me," said his wife. "if you promise not to kill him, i will call him," said the tiger. "i won't kill him; only let me see him," answered his wife. then the tiger called the rajah's son, and when he came the tiger and his wife made him a great many salaams. then they gave him a good dinner, and he stayed with them for three days. every day he looked at the tiger's foot, and the third day it was quite healed. then he said good-by to the tigers, and the tiger said to him, "if ever you are in trouble, think of me, and we will come to you." the rajah's son rode on and on till he came to a third jungle. here he found four fakeers whose teacher and master had died, and had left four things,--a bed, which carried whoever sat on it whithersoever he wished to go; a bag, that gave its owner whatever he wanted, jewels, food or clothes; a stone bowl that gave its owner as much water as he wanted, no matter how far he might be from a tank; and a stick and rope, to which its owner had only to say, if any one came to make war on him, "stick, beat as many men and soldiers as are here," and the stick would beat them and the rope would tie them up. the four fakeers were quarreling over these four things. one said, "i want this;" another said, "you cannot have it, for i want it;" and so on. the rajah's son said to them, "do not quarrel for these things. i will shoot four arrows in four different directions. whichever of you gets to my first arrow, shall have the first thing--the bed. whosoever gets to the second arrow, shall have the second thing--the bag. he who gets to the third arrow, shall have the third thing--the bowl. and he who gets to the fourth arrow, shall have the last things--the stick and rope." to this they agreed. and the prince shot off his first arrow. away raced the fakeers to get it. when they brought it back to him he shot off the second, and when they had found and brought it to him he shot off his third, and when they had brought him the third he shot off the fourth. while they were away looking for the fourth arrow the rajah's son let his horse loose in the jungle and sat on the bed, taking the bowl, the stick and rope, and the bag with him. then he said, "bed, i wish to go to the princess labam's country." the little bed instantly rose up into the air and began to fly, and it flew and flew till it came to the princess labam's country, where it settled on the ground. the rajah's son asked some men he saw, "whose country is this?" "the princess labam's country," they answered. then the prince went on till he came to a house where he saw an old woman. "who are you?" she said. "where do you come from?" "i come from a far country," he said; "do let me stay with you to-night." "no," she answered, "i cannot let you stay with me; for our king has ordered that men from other countries may not stay in his country. you cannot stay in my house." "you are my aunty," said the prince; "let me remain with you for this one night. you see it is evening, and if i go into the jungle, then the wild beasts will eat me." "well," said that old woman, "you may stay here to-night; but to-morrow morning you must go away, for if the king hears you have passed the night in my house, he will have me seized and put into prison." then she took him into her house, and the rajah's son was very glad. the old woman began preparing dinner, but he stopped her. "aunty," he said, "i will give you food." he put his hand into his bag, saying, "bag, i want some dinner," and the bag gave him instantly a delicious dinner, served up on two gold plates. the old woman and the rajah's son then dined together. when they had finished eating, the old woman said, "now i will fetch some water." "don't go," said the prince. "you shall have plenty of water directly." so he took his bowl and said to it, "bowl, i want some water," and then it filled with water. when it was full, the prince cried out, "stop, bowl!" and the bowl stopped filling. "see, aunty," he said, "with this bowl i can always get as much water as i want." by this time night had come. "aunty," said the rajah's son, "why don't you light a lamp?" "there is no need," she said. "our king has forbidden the people in his country to light any lamps; for, as soon as it is dark, his daughter, the princess labam, comes and sits on her roof, and she shines so that she lights up all the country and our houses, and we can see to do our work as if it were day." when it was quite black night the princess got up. she dressed herself in her rich clothes and jewels, and rolled up her hair, and across her head she put a band of diamonds and pearls. then she shone like the moon and her beauty made night day. she came out of her room and sat on the roof of her palace. in the daytime she never came out of her house; she only came out at night. all the people in her father's country then went about their work and finished it. the rajah's son, watched the princess quietly, and was very happy. he said to himself, "how lovely she is!" at midnight, when everybody had gone to bed, the princess came down from her roof and went to her room; and when she was in bed and asleep, the rajah's son got up softly and sat on his bed. "bed," he said to it, "i want to go to the princess labam's bed-room." so the little bed carried him to the room where she lay fast asleep. the young rajah took his bag and said, "i want a great deal of betel-leaf," and it at once gave him quantities of betel-leaf. this he laid near the princess's bed, and then his little bed carried him back to the old woman's house. next morning all the princess's servants found the betel-leaf, and began to eat it. "where did you get all that betel-leaf?" asked the princess. "we found it near your bed," answered the servants. nobody knew the prince had come in the night and put it all there. in the morning the old woman came to the rajah's son. "now it is morning," she said, "and you must go; for if the king finds out all i have done for you, he will seize me." "i am ill to-day, dear aunty," said the prince; "do let me stay till to-morrow morning." "good," said the old woman. so he stayed, and they took their dinner out of the bag, and the bowl gave them water. [illustration: the princess labam ... shines so that she lights up all the country.] when night came the princess got up and sat on her roof, and at twelve o'clock, when every one was in bed, she went to her bed-room, and was soon fast asleep. then the rajah's son sat on his bed, and it carried him to the princess. he took his bag and said, "bag, i want a most lovely shawl." it gave him a splendid shawl, and he spread it over the princess as she lay asleep. then he went back to the old woman's house and slept till morning. in the morning, when the princess saw the shawl she was delighted. "see, mother," she said; "khuda must have given me this shawl, it is so beautiful." her mother was very glad too. "yes, my child," she said; "khuda must have given you this splendid shawl." when it was morning the old woman said to the rajah's son, "now you must really go." "aunty," he answered, "i am not well enough yet. let me stay a few days longer. i will remain hidden in your house, so that no one may see me." so the old woman let him stay. when it was black night, the princess put on her lovely clothes and jewels and sat on her roof. at midnight she went to her room and went to sleep. then the rajah's son sat on his bed and flew to her bed-room. there he said to his bag, "bag, i want a very, very beautiful ring." the bag gave him a glorious ring. then he took the princess labam's hand gently to put on the ring, and she started up very much frightened. "who are you?" she said to the prince. "where do you come from? why do you come to my room?" "do not be afraid, princess," he said; "i am no thief. i am a great rajah's son. hiraman parrot, who lives in the jungle where i went to hunt, told me your name, and then i left my father and mother and came to see you." "well," said the princess, "as you are the son of such a great rajah, i will not have you killed, and i will tell my father and mother that i wish to marry you." the prince then returned to the old woman's house; and when morning came the princess said to her mother, "the son of a great rajah has come to this country, and i wish to marry him." her mother told this to the king. "good," said the king; "but if this rajah's son wishes to marry my daughter, he must first do whatever i bid him. if he fails i will kill him. i will give him eighty pounds weight of mustard seed, and out of this he must crush the oil in one day. if he cannot do this he shall die." in the morning the rajah's son told the old woman that he intended to marry the princess. "oh," said the old woman, "go away from this country, and do not think of marrying her. a great many rajahs and rajahs' sons have come here to marry her, and her father has had them all killed. he says whoever wishes to marry his daughter must first do whatever he bids him. if he can, then he shall marry the princess; if he cannot, the king will have him killed. but no one can do the things the king tells him to do; so all the rajahs and rajahs' sons who have tried have been put to death. you will be killed too, if you try. do go away." but the prince would not listen to anything she said. the king sent for the prince to the old woman's house, and his servants brought the rajah's son to the king's court-house to the king. there the king gave him eighty pounds of mustard seed, and told him to crush all the oil out of it that day, and bring it next morning to him to the court-house. "whoever wishes to marry my daughter," he said to the prince, "must first do all i tell him. if he cannot, then i have him killed. so if you cannot crush all the oil out of this mustard seed you will die." the prince was very sorry when he heard this. "how can i crush the oil out of all this mustard seed in one day?" he said to himself; "and if i do not, the king will kill me." he took the mustard seed to the old woman's house, and did not know what to do. at last he remembered the ant-rajah, and the moment he did so, the ant-rajah and his ants came to him. "why do you look so sad?" said the ant-rajah. the prince showed him the mustard seed, and said to him, "how can i crush the oil out of all this mustard seed in one day? and if i do not take the oil to the king to-morrow morning, he will kill me." "be happy," said the ant-rajah; "lie down and sleep; we will crush all the oil out for you during the day, and to-morrow morning you shall take it to the king." the rajah's son lay down and slept, and the ants crushed out the oil for him. the prince was very glad when he saw the oil. the next morning he took it to the court-house to the king. but the king said, "you cannot yet marry my daughter. if you wish to do so, you must fight with my two demons, and kill them." the king a long time ago had caught two demons, and then, as he did not know what to do with them, he had shut them up in a cage. he was afraid to let them loose for fear they would eat up all the people in his country; and he did not know how to kill them. so all the rajahs and rajahs' sons who wanted to marry the princess labam had to fight with these demons; "for," said the king to himself, "perhaps the demons may be killed, and then i shall be rid of them." when he heard of the demons the rajah's son was very sad. "what can i do?" he said to himself. "how can i fight with these two demons?" then he thought of his tiger: and the tiger and his wife came to him and said, "why are you so sad?" the rajah's son answered, "the king has ordered me to fight with his two demons and kill them. how can i do this?" "do not be frightened," said the tiger. "be happy. i and my wife will fight with them for you." then the rajah's son took out of his bag two splendid coats. they were all gold and silver, and covered with pearls and diamonds. these he put on the tigers to make them beautiful, and he took them to the king, and said to him, "may these tigers fight your demons for me?" "yes," said the king, who did not care in the least who killed his demons, provided they were killed. "then call your demons," said the rajah's son, "and these tigers will fight them." the king did so, and the tigers and the demons fought and fought until the tigers had killed the demons. "that is good," said the king. "but you must do something else before i give you my daughter. up in the sky i have a kettle-drum. you must go and beat it. if you cannot do this, i will kill you." the rajah's son thought of his little bed; so he went to the old woman's house and sat on his bed. "little bed," he said, "up in the sky is the king's kettle-drum. i want to go to it." the bed flew up with him, and the rajah's son beat the drum, and the king heard him. still, when he came down, the king would not give him his daughter. "you have," he said to the prince, "done the three things i told you to do; but you must do one thing more." "if i can, i will," said the rajah's son. then the king showed him the trunk of a tree that was lying near his court-house. it was a very, very thick trunk. he gave the prince a wax hatchet, and said, "to-morrow morning you must cut this trunk in two with this wax hatchet." the rajah's son went back to the old woman's house. he was very sad, and thought that now the rajah would certainly kill him. "i had his oil crushed out by the ants," he said to himself. "i had his demons killed by the tigers. my bed helped to beat this kettle-drum. but now what can i do? how can i cut that thick tree-trunk in two with a wax hatchet?" at night he went on his bed to see the princess. "to-morrow," he said to her, "your father will kill me." "why?" asked the princess. "he has told me to cut a thick tree-trunk in two with a wax hatchet. how can i ever do that?" said the rajah's son. "do not be afraid," said the princess; "do as i bid you, and you will cut it in two quite easily." then she pulled out a hair from her head and gave it to the prince. "to-morrow," she said, "when no one is near you, you must say to the tree-trunk, 'the princess labam commands you to let yourself be cut in two by this hair.' then stretch the hair down the edge of the wax hatchet's blade." the prince next day did exactly as the princess had told him; and the minute the hair that was stretched down the edge of the hatchet blade touched the tree-trunk it split into two pieces. the king said, "now you can marry my daughter." then the wedding took place. all the rajahs and kings of the countries round were asked to come to it, and there were great rejoicings. after a few days the bridegroom said to his bride "let us go to my father's country." the princess labam's father gave them a quantity of camels and horses and rupees and servants; and they traveled in great state to the distant country, where they lived happily. the prince always kept his bag, bowl, bed, stick and rope; only, as no one ever came to make war on him, he never needed to use the stick or rope. myths of japan the jellyfish and the monkey adapted by yei theodora ozaki long, long ago, in old japan, the kingdom of the sea was governed by a wonderful king. he was called rin jin, or the dragon king of the sea. his power was immense, for he was the ruler of all sea creatures both great and small, and in his keeping were the jewels of the ebb and flow of the tide. the jewel of the ebbing tide when thrown into the ocean caused the sea to recede from the land, and the jewel of the flowing tide made the waves to rise mountains high and to flow in upon the shore like a tidal wave. the palace of rin jin was at the bottom of the sea, and was so beautiful that no one has ever seen anything like it even in dreams. the walls were of coral, the roof of jadestone and chalcedony, and the floors were of the finest mother-of-pearl. but the dragon king, in spite of his wide-spreading kingdom, his beautiful palace and all its wonders, and his power, which none disputed throughout the whole sea, was not at all happy, for he reigned alone. at last he thought that if he married he would not only be happier, but also more powerful. so he decided to take a wife. calling all his fish retainers together, he chose several of them as ambassadors to go through the sea and seek for a young dragon princess who would be his bride. at last they returned to the palace bringing with them a lovely young dragon. her scales were of a glittering green like the wings of summer beetles, her eyes threw out glances of fire, and she was dressed in gorgeous robes. all the jewels of the sea worked in with embroidery adorned them. the king fell in love with her at once, and the wedding ceremony was celebrated with great splendor. every living thing in the sea, from the great whales down to the little shrimps, came in shoals to offer their congratulations to the bride and bridegroom and to wish them a long and prosperous life. never had there been such an assemblage or such gay festivities in the fish-world before. the train of bearers who carried the bride's possessions to her new home seemed to reach across the waves from one end of the sea to the other. each fish carried a phosphorescent lantern and was dressed in ceremonial robes, gleaming blue and pink and silver; and the waves as they rose and fell and broke that night seemed to be rolling masses of white and green fire, for the phosphorus shone with double brilliancy in honor of the event. now for a time the dragon king and his bride lived very happily. they loved each other dearly, and the bridegroom day after day took delight in showing his bride all the wonders and treasures of his coral palace, and she was never tired of wandering with him through its vast halls and gardens. life seemed to them both like a long summer's day. two months passed in this happy way, and then the dragon queen fell ill and was obliged to stay in bed. the king was sorely troubled when he saw his precious bride so ill, and at once sent for the fish doctor to come and give her some medicine. he gave special orders to the servants to nurse her carefully and to wait upon her with diligence, but in spite of all the nurses' assiduous care and the medicine that the doctor prescribed, the young queen showed no signs of recovery, but grew daily worse. then the dragon king interviewed the doctor and blamed him for not curing the queen. the doctor was alarmed at rin jin's evident displeasure, and excused his want of skill by saying that although he knew the right kind of medicine to give the invalid, it was impossible to find it in the sea. "do you mean to tell me that you can't get the medicine here?" asked the dragon king. "it is just as you say!" said the doctor. "tell me what it is you want for the queen?" demanded rin jin. "i want the liver of a live monkey!" answered the doctor. "the liver of a live monkey! of course that will be most difficult to get," said the king. "if we could only get that for the queen, her majesty would soon recover," said the doctor. "very well, that decides it; we _must_ get it somehow or other. but where are we most likely to find a monkey?" asked the king. then the doctor told the dragon king that some distance to the south there was a monkey island where a great many monkeys lived. "if only you could capture one of those monkeys?" said the doctor. "how can any of my people capture a monkey?" said the dragon king, greatly puzzled. "the monkeys live on dry land, while we live in the water; and out of our element we are quite powerless! i don't see what we can do!" "that has been my difficulty too," said the doctor. "but amongst your innumerable servants, you surely can find one who can go on shore for that express purpose!" "something must be done," said the king, and calling his chief steward he consulted him on the matter. the chief steward thought for some time, and then, as if struck by a sudden thought, said joyfully: "i know what we must do! there is the _kurage_ (jellyfish). he is certainly ugly to look at, but he is proud of being able to walk on land with his four legs like a tortoise. let us send him to the island of monkeys to catch one." the jellyfish was then summoned to the king's presence, and was told by his majesty what was required of him. the jellyfish, on being told of the unexpected mission which was to be entrusted to him, looked very troubled, and said that he had never been to the island in question, and as he had never had any experience in catching monkeys he was afraid that he would not be able to get one. "well," said the chief steward, "if you depend on your strength or dexterity you will never catch a monkey. the only way is to play a trick on one!" "how can i play a trick on a monkey? i don't know how to do it," said the perplexed jellyfish. "this is what you must do," said the wily chief steward. "when you approach the island of monkeys and meet some of them, you must try to get very friendly with one. tell him that you are a servant of the dragon king, and invite him to come and visit you and see the dragon king's palace. try and describe to him as vividly as you can the grandeur of the palace and the wonders of the sea so as to arouse his curiosity and make him long to see it all!" "but how am i to get the monkey here? you know monkeys don't swim!" said the reluctant jellyfish. "you must carry him on your back. what is the use of your shell if you can't do that!" said the chief steward. "won't he be very heavy?" queried _kurage_ again. "you mustn't mind that, for you are working for the dragon king!" replied the chief steward. "i will do my best then," said the jellyfish, and he swam away from the palace and started off towards the monkey island. swimming swiftly he reached his destination in a few hours, and was landed by a convenient wave upon the shore. on looking round he saw not far away a big pine-tree with drooping branches and on one of those branches was just what he was looking for--a live monkey. "i'm in luck!" thought the jellyfish. "now i must flatter the creature and try to entice him to come back with me to the palace, and my part will be done!" so the jellyfish slowly walked towards the pine-tree. in those ancient days the jellyfish had four legs and a hard shell like a tortoise. when he got to the pine-tree he raised his voice and said: "how do you do, mr. monkey? isn't it a lovely day?" "a very fine day," answered the monkey from the tree. "i have never seen you in this part of the world before. where have you come from and what is your name?" "my name is _kurage_ or jellyfish. i am one of the servants of the dragon king. i have heard so much of your beautiful island that i have come on purpose to see it," answered the jellyfish. "i am very glad to see you," said the monkey. "by-the-bye," said the jellyfish, "have you ever seen the palace of the dragon king of the sea where i live?" "i have often heard of it, but i have never seen it!" answered the monkey. "then you ought most surely to come. it is a great pity for you to go through life without seeing it. the beauty of the palace is beyond all description--it is certainly to my mind the most lovely place in the world," said the jellyfish. "is it so beautiful as all that?" asked the monkey in astonishment. then the jellyfish saw his chance, and went on describing to the best of his ability the beauty and grandeur of the sea king's palace, and the wonders of the garden with its curious trees of white, pink and red coral, and the still more curious fruits like great jewels hanging on the branches. the monkey grew more and more interested, and as he listened he came down the tree step by step so as not to lose a word of the wonderful story. "i have got him at last!" thought the jellyfish, but aloud he said: "mr. monkey, i must now go back. as you have never seen the palace of the dragon king, won't you avail yourself of this splendid opportunity by coming with me? i shall then be able to act as guide and show you all the sights of the sea, which will be even more wonderful to you--a land-lubber." "i should love to go," said the monkey, "but how am i to cross the water? i can't swim, as you surely know!" "there is no difficulty about that. i can carry you on my back." "that will be troubling you too much," said the monkey. "i can do it quite easily. i am stronger than i look, so you needn't hesitate," said the jellyfish, and taking the monkey on his back he stepped into the sea. "keep very still, mr. monkey," said the jellyfish. "you mustn't fall into the sea; i am responsible for your safe arrival at the king's palace." "please don't go so fast, or i am sure i shall fall off," said the monkey. thus they went along, the jellyfish skimming through the waves with the monkey sitting on his back. when they were about halfway, the jellyfish, who knew very little of anatomy, began to wonder if the monkey had his liver with him or not! "mr. monkey, tell me, have you such a thing as a liver with you?" the monkey was very much surprised at this queer question, and asked what the jellyfish wanted with a liver. "that is the most important thing of all," said the stupid jellyfish, "so as soon as i recollected it, i asked you if you had yours with you?" "why is my liver so important to you?" asked the monkey. "oh! you will learn the reason later," said the jellyfish. the monkey grew more and more curious and suspicious, and urged the jellyfish to tell him for what his liver was wanted, and ended up by appealing to his hearer's feelings by saying that he was very troubled at what he had been told. then the jellyfish, seeing how anxious the monkey looked, was sorry for him, and told everything. how the dragon queen had fallen ill, and how the doctor had said that only the liver of a live monkey would cure her, and how the dragon king had sent him to find one. "now i have done as i was told, and as soon as we arrive at the palace the doctor will want your liver, so i feel sorry for you!" said the silly jellyfish. the poor monkey was horrified when he learnt all this, and very angry at the trick played upon him. he trembled with fear at the thought of what was in store for him. but the monkey was a clever animal, and he thought it the wisest plan not to show any sign of the fear he felt, so he tried to calm himself and to think of some way by which he might escape. "the doctor means to cut me open and then take my liver out! why i shall die!" thought the monkey. at last a bright thought struck him, so he said quite cheerfully to the jellyfish: "what a pity it was, mr. jellyfish, that you did not speak of this before we left the island!" "if i had told you why i wanted you to accompany me you would certainly have refused to come," answered the jellyfish. "you are quite mistaken," said the monkey. "monkeys can very well spare a liver or two, especially when it is wanted for the dragon queen of the sea. if i had only guessed of what you were in need, i should have presented you with one without waiting to be asked. i have several livers. but the greatest pity is, that as you did not speak in time, i have left all my livers hanging on the pine-tree." "have you left your liver behind you?" asked the jellyfish. "yes," said the cunning monkey, "during the daytime i usually leave my liver hanging up on the branch of a tree, as it is very much in the way when i am climbing about from tree to tree. to-day, listening to your interesting conversation, i quite forgot it, and left it behind when i came off with you. if only you had spoken in time i should have remembered it, and should have brought it along with me!" the jellyfish was very disappointed when he heard this, for he believed every word the monkey said. the monkey was of no good without a liver. finally the jellyfish stopped and told the monkey so. "well," said the monkey, "that is soon remedied. i am really sorry to think of all your trouble; but if you will only take me back to the place where you found me, i shall soon be able to get my liver." the jellyfish did not at all like the idea of going all the way back to the island again; but the monkey assured him that if he would be so kind as to take him back he would get his very best liver, and bring it with him the next time. thus persuaded, the jellyfish turned his course towards the monkey island once more. no sooner had the jellyfish reached the shore than the sly monkey landed, and getting up into the pine-tree where the jellyfish had first seen him, he cut several capers amongst the branches with joy at being safe home again, and then looking down at the jellyfish said: "so many thanks for all the trouble you have taken! please present my compliments to the dragon king on your return!" the jellyfish wondered at this speech and the mocking tone in which it was uttered. then he asked the monkey if it wasn't his intention to come with him at once after getting his liver. the monkey replied laughingly that he couldn't afford to lose his liver; it was too precious. "but remember your promise!" pleaded the jellyfish, now very discouraged. "that promise was false, and anyhow it is now broken!" answered the monkey. then he began to jeer at the jellyfish and told him that he had been deceiving him the whole time; that he had no wish to lose his life, which he certainly would have done had he gone on to the sea king's palace to the old doctor waiting for him, instead of persuading the jellyfish to return under false pretences. "of course, i won't _give_ you my liver, but come and get it if you can!" added the monkey mockingly from the tree. there was nothing for the jellyfish to do now but to repent of his stupidity, and return to the dragon king of the sea and confess his failure, so he started sadly and slowly to swim back. the last thing he heard as he glided away, leaving the island behind him, was the monkey laughing at him. meanwhile the dragon king, the doctor, the chief steward, and all the servants were waiting impatiently for the return of the jellyfish. when they caught sight of him approaching the palace, they hailed him with delight. they began to thank him profusely for all the trouble he had taken in going to monkey island, and then they asked him where the monkey was. now the day of reckoning had come for the jellyfish. he quaked all over as he told his story. how he had brought the monkey half way over the sea, and then had stupidly let out the secret of his commission; how the monkey had deceived him by making him believe that he had left his liver behind him. the dragon king's wrath was great, and he at once gave orders that the jellyfish was to be severely punished. the punishment was a horrible one. all the bones were to be drawn out from his living body, and he was to be beaten with sticks. the poor jellyfish, humiliated and horrified beyond all words, cried out for pardon. but the dragon king's order had to be obeyed. the servants of the palace forthwith each brought out a stick and surrounded the jellyfish, and after pulling out his bones they beat him to a flat pulp, and then took him out beyond the palace gates and threw him into the water. here he was left to suffer and repent his foolish chattering, and to grow accustomed to his new state of bonelessness. from this story it is evident that in former times the jellyfish once had a shell and bones something like a tortoise, but, ever since the dragon king's sentence was carried out on the ancestor of the jelly fishes, his descendants have all been soft and boneless just as you see them to-day thrown up by the waves high upon the shores of japan. the old man and the devils a long time ago there was an old man who had a big lump on the right side of his face. one day he went into the mountain to cut wood, when the rain began to pour and the wind to blow so very hard that, finding it impossible to return home, and filled with fear, he took refuge in the hollow of an old tree. while sitting there doubled up and unable to sleep, he heard the confused sound of many voices in the distance gradually approaching to where he was. he said to himself: "how strange! i thought i was all alone in the mountain, but i hear the voices of many people." so, taking courage, he peeped out, and saw a great crowd of strange-looking beings. some were red, and dressed in green clothes; others were black, and dressed in red clothes; some had only one eye; others had no mouth; indeed, it is quite impossible to describe their varied and strange looks. they kindled a fire, so that it became as light as day. they sat down in two cross-rows, and began to drink wine and make merry just like human beings. they passed the wine cup around so often that many of them soon drank too much. one of the young devils got up and began to sing a merry song and to dance; so also many others; some danced well, others badly. one said: "we have had uncommon fun to-night, but i would like to see something new." then the old man, losing all fear, thought he would like to dance, and saying, "let come what will, if i die for it, i will have a dance, too," crept out of the hollow tree and, with his cap slipped over his nose and his ax sticking in his belt, began to dance. the devils in great surprise jumped up, saying, "who is this?" but the old man advancing and receding, swaying to and fro, and posturing this way and that way, the whole crowd laughed and enjoyed the fun, saying: "how well the old man dances! you must always come and join us in our sport; but, for fear you might not come, you must give us a pledge that you will." so the devils consulted together, and, agreeing that the lump on his face, which was a token of wealth, was what he valued most highly, demanded that it should be taken. the old man replied: "i have had this lump many years, and would not without good reason part with it; but you may have it, or an eye, or my nose either if you wish." so the devils laid hold of it, twisting and pulling, and took it off without giving him any pain, and put it away as a pledge that he would come back. just then the day began to dawn, and the birds to sing, so the devils hurried away. the old man felt his face and found it quite smooth, and not a trace of the lump left. he forgot all about cutting wood, and hastened home. his wife, seeing him, exclaimed in great surprise, "what has happened to you?" so he told her all that had befallen him. now, among the neighbors there was another old man who had a big lump on the left side of his face. hearing all about how the first old man had got rid of his misfortune, he determined that he would also try the same plan. so he went and crept into the hollow tree, and waited for the devils to come. sure enough, they came just as he was told, and they sat down, drank wine, and made merry just as they did before. the second old man, afraid and trembling, crept out of the hollow tree. the devils welcomed him, saying: "the old man has come; now let us see him dance." this old fellow was awkward, and did not dance as well as the other, so the devils cried out: "you dance badly, and are getting worse and worse; we will give you back the lump which we took from you as a pledge." upon this, one of the devils brought the lump, and stuck it on the other side of his face; so the poor old fellow returned home with a lump on each side. autumn and spring adapted by frank hinder a fair maiden lay asleep in a rice field. the sun was at its height, and she was weary. now a god looked down upon the rice field. he knew that the beauty of the maiden came from within, that it mirrored the beauty of heavenly dreams. he knew that even now, as she smiled, she held converse with the spirit of the wind or the flowers. the god descended and asked the dream-maiden to be his bride. she rejoiced, and they were wed. a wonderful red jewel came of their happiness. long, long afterwards, the stone was found by a farmer, who saw that it was a very rare jewel. he prized it highly, and always carried it about with him. sometimes, as he looked at it in the pale light of the moon, it seemed to him that he could discern eyes in its depths. again, in the stillness of the night, he would awaken and think that a clear soft voice called him by name. one day, the farmer had to carry the midday meal to his workers in the field. the sun was very hot, so he loaded a cow with the bowls of rice, the millet dumplings, and the beans. suddenly, prince ama-boko stood in the path. he was angry, for he thought that the farmer was about to kill the cow. the prince would hear no word of denial; his wrath increased. the farmer became more and more terrified, and, finally, took the precious stone from his pocket and presented it as a peace-offering to the powerful prince. ama-boko marveled at the brilliancy of the jewel, and allowed the man to continue his journey. the prince returned to his home. he drew forth the treasure, and it was immediately transformed into a goddess of surpassing beauty. even as she rose before him, he loved her, and ere the moon waned they were wed. the goddess ministered to his every want. she prepared delicate dishes, the secret of which is known only to the gods. she made wine from the juice of a myriad herbs, wine such as mortals never taste. but, after a time, the prince became proud and overbearing. he began to treat his faithful wife with cruel contempt. the goddess was sad, and said: "you are not worthy of my love. i will leave you and go to my father." ama-boko paid no heed to these words, for he did not believe that the threat would be fulfilled. but the beautiful goddess was in earnest. she escaped from the palace and fled to naniwa, where she is still honored as akaru-hime, the goddess of light. now the prince was wroth when he heard that the goddess had left him, and set out in pursuit of her. but when he neared naniwa, the gods would not allow his vessel to enter the haven. then he knew that his priceless red jewel was lost to him forever. he steered his ship towards the north coast of japan, and landed at tajima. here he was well received, and highly esteemed on account of the treasures which he brought with him. he had costly strings of pearls, girdles of precious stones, and a mirror which the wind and the waves obeyed. prince ama-boko remained at tajima, and was the father of a mighty race. among his children's children was a princess so renowned for her beauty that eighty suitors sought her hand. one after the other returned sorrowfully home, for none found favor in her eyes. at last, two brothers came before her, the young god of the autumn, and the young god of the spring. the elder of the two, the god of autumn, first urged his suit. but the princess refused him. he went to his younger brother and said, "the princess does not love me, neither will you be able to win her heart." but the spring god was full of hope, and replied, "i will give you a cask of rice wine if i do not win her, but if she consents to be my bride, you shall give a cask of _saké_ to me." now the god of spring went to his mother, and told her all. she promised to aid him. thereupon she wove, in a single night, a robe and sandals from the unopened buds of the lilac and white wistaria. out of the same delicate flowers she fashioned a bow and arrows. thus clad, the god of spring made his way to the beautiful princess. as he stepped before the maiden, every bud unfolded, and from the heart of each blossom came a fragrance that filled the air. the princess was overjoyed, and gave her hand to the god of spring. the elder brother, the god of autumn, was filled with rage when he heard how his brother had obtained the wondrous robe. he refused to give the promised cask of _saké_. when the mother learned that the god had broken his word, she placed stones and salt in the hollow of a bamboo cane, wrapped it round with bamboo leaves, and hung it in the smoke. then she uttered a curse upon her first-born: "as the leaves wither and fade, so must you. as the salt sea ebbs, so must you. as the stone sinks, so must you." the terrible curse fell upon her son. while the god of spring remains ever young, ever fragrant, ever full of mirth, the god of autumn is old, and withered, and sad. the vision of tsunu adapted by frank rinder when the five tall pine-trees on the windy heights of mionoseki were but tiny shoots, there lived in the kingdom of the islands a pious man. his home was in a remote hamlet surrounded by mountains and great forests of pine. tsunu had a wife and sons and daughters. he was a woodman, and his days were spent in the forest and on the hillsides. in summer he was up at cock-crow, and worked patiently, in the soft light under the pines, until nightfall. then, with his burden of logs and branches, he went slowly homeward. after the evening meal, he would tell some old story or legend. tsunu was never weary of relating the wondrous tales of the land of the gods. best of all he loved to speak of fuji-yama, the mountain that stood so near his home. in times gone by, there was no mountain where now the sacred peak reaches up to the sky; only a far-stretching plain bathed in sunlight all day. the peasants in the district were astonished, one morning, to behold a mighty hill where before had been the open plain. it had sprung up in a single night, while they slept. flames and huge stones were hurled from its summit; the peasants feared that the demons from the under-world had come to wreak vengeance upon them. but for many generations there have been peace and silence on the heights. the good sun-goddess loves fuji-yama. every evening she lingers on his summit, and when at last she leaves him, his lofty crest is bathed in soft purple light. in the evening the matchless mountain seems to rise higher and higher into the skies, until no mortal can tell the place of his rest. golden clouds enfold fuji-yama in the early morning. pilgrims come from far and near, to gain blessing and health for themselves and their families from the sacred mountain. on the self-same night that fuji-yama rose out of the earth, a strange thing happened in the mountainous district near kyoto. the inhabitants were awakened by a terrible roar, which continued throughout the night. in the morning every mountain had disappeared; not one of the hills that they loved was to be seen. a blue lake lay before them. it was none other than the lute-shaped lake biwa. the mountains had, in truth, traveled under the earth for more than a hundred miles, and now form the sacred fuji-yama. as tsunu stepped out of his hut in the morning, his eyes sought the mountain of the gods. he saw the golden clouds, and the beautiful story was in his mind as he went to his work. one day the woodman wandered farther than usual into the forest. at noon he was in a very lonely spot. the air was soft and sweet, the sky so blue that he looked long at it, and then took a deep breath. tsunu was happy. now his eye fell on a little fox who watched him curiously from the bushes. the creature ran away when it saw that the man's attention had been attracted. tsunu thought, "i will follow the little fox and see where she goes." off he started in pursuit. he soon came to a bamboo thicket. the smooth, slender stems waved dreamily, the pale green leaves still sparkled with the morning dew. but it was not this which caused the woodman to stand spellbound. on a plot of mossy grass beyond the thicket, sat two maidens of surpassing beauty. they were partly shaded by the waving bamboos, but their faces were lit up by the sunlight. not a word came from their lips, yet tsunu knew that the voices of both must be sweet as the cooing of the wild dove. the maidens were graceful as the slender willow, they were fair as the blossom of the cherry-tree. slowly they moved the chessmen which lay before them on the grass. tsunu hardly dared to breathe, lest he should disturb them. the breeze caught their long hair, the sunlight played upon it.... the sun still shone.... the chessmen were still slowly moved to and fro.... the woodman gazed enraptured. "but now," thought tsunu, "i must return, and tell those at home of the beautiful maidens." alas, his knees were stiff and weak. "surely i have stood here for many hours," he said. he leaned for support upon his axe; it crumbled into dust. looking down he saw that a flowing white beard hung from his chin. for many hours the poor woodman tried in vain to reach his home. fatigued and wearied, he came at last to a hut. but all was changed. strange faces peered curiously at him. the speech of the people was unfamiliar. "where are my wife and my children?" he cried. but no one knew his name. finally, the poor woodman came to understand that seven generations had passed since he bade farewell to his dear ones in the early morning. while he had gazed at the beautiful maidens, his wife, his children, and his children's children had lived and died. the few remaining years of tsunu's life were spent as a pious pilgrim to fuji-yama, his well-loved mountain. since his death he has been honored as a saint who brings prosperity to the people of his native country. the star-lovers adapted by frank rinder shokujo, daughter of the sun, dwelt with her father on the banks of the silver river of heaven, which we call the milky way. she was a lovely maiden, graceful and winsome, and her eyes were tender as the eyes of a dove. her loving father, the sun, was much troubled because shokujo did not share in the youthful pleasures of the daughters of the air. a soft melancholy seemed to brood over her, but she never wearied of working for the good of others, and especially did she busy herself at her loom; indeed she came to be called the weaving princess. the sun bethought him that if he could give his daughter in marriage, all would be well; her dormant love would be kindled into a flame that would illumine her whole being and drive out the pensive spirit which oppressed her. now there lived, hard by, a right honest herdsman, named kingen, who tended his cows on the borders of the heavenly stream. the sun-king proposed to bestow his daughter on kingen, thinking in this way to provide for her happiness and at the same time keep her near him. every star beamed approval, and there was joy in the heavens. the love that bound shokujo and kingen to one another was a great love. with its awakening, shokujo forsook her former occupations, nor did she any longer labor industriously at the loom, but laughed, and danced, and sang, and made merry from morn till night. the sun-king was sorely grieved, for he had not foreseen so great a change. anger was in his eyes, and he said, "kingen is surely the cause of this, therefore i will banish him to the other side of the river of stars." when shokujo and kingen heard that they were to be parted, and could thenceforth, in accordance with the king's decree, meet but once a year, and that upon the seventh night of the seventh month, their hearts were heavy. the leave-taking between them was a sad one, and great tears stood in shokujo's eyes as she bade farewell to her lover-husband. in answer to the behest of the sun-king, myriads of magpies flocked together, and, outspreading their wings, formed a bridge on which kingen crossed the river of heaven. the moment that his foot touched the opposite bank, the birds dispersed with noisy chatter, leaving poor kingen a solitary exile. he looked wistfully towards the weeping figure of shokujo, who stood on the threshold of her now desolate home. long and weary were the succeeding days, spent as they were by kingen in guiding his oxen and by shokujo in plying her shuttle. the sun-king was gladdened by his daughter's industry. when night fell and the heavens were bright with countless lights, the lovers were wont, standing on the banks of the celestial stream, to waft across it sweet and tender messages, while each uttered a prayer for the speedy coming of the wondrous night. the long-hoped-for month and day drew nigh, and the hearts of the lovers were troubled lest rain should fall; for the silver river, full at all times, is at that season often in flood, and the bird-bridge might be swept away. the day broke cloudlessly bright. it waxed and waned, and one by one the lamps of heaven were lighted. at nightfall the magpies assembled, and shokujo, quivering with delight, crossed the slender bridge and fell into the arms of her lover. their transport of joy was as the joy of the parched flower, when the raindrop falls upon it; but the moment of parting soon came, and shokujo sorrowfully retraced her steps. year follows year, and the lovers still meet in that far-off land on the seventh night of the seventh month, save when rain has swelled the silver river and rendered the crossing impossible. the hope of a permanent reunion still fills the hearts of the star-lovers, and is to them as a sweet fragrance and a beautiful vision. myths of the slavs the two brothers adapted by alexander chodsko once upon a time there were two brothers whose father had left them but a small fortune. the eldest grew very rich, but at the same time cruel and wicked, whereas there was nowhere a more honest or kinder man than the younger. but he remained poor, and had many children, so that at times they could scarcely get bread to eat. at last, one day there was not even this in the house, so he went to his rich brother and asked him for a loaf of bread. waste of time! his rich brother only called him beggar and vagabond, and slammed the door in his face. the poor fellow, after this brutal reception, did not know which way to turn. hungry, scantily clad, shivering with cold, his legs could scarcely carry him along. he had not the heart to go home, with nothing for the children, so he went towards the mountain forest. but all he found there were some wild pears that had fallen to the ground. he had to content himself with eating these, though they set his teeth on edge. but what was he to do to warm himself, for the east wind with its chill blast pierced him through and through. "where shall i go?" he said; "what will become of us in the cottage? there is neither food nor fire, and my brother has driven me from his door." it was just then he remembered having heard that the top of the mountain in front of him was made of crystal, and had a fire forever burning upon it. "i will try and find it," he said, "and then i may be able to warm myself a little." so he went on climbing higher and higher till he reached the top, when he was startled to see twelve strange beings sitting round a huge fire. he stopped for a moment, but then said to himself, "what have i to lose? why should i fear? god is with me. courage!" so he advanced towards the fire, and bowing respectfully, said: "good people, take pity on my distress. i am very poor, no one cares for me, i have not even a fire in my cottage; will you let me warm myself at yours?" they all looked kindly at him, and one of them said: "my son, come sit down with us and warm yourself." so he sat down, and felt warm directly he was near them. but he dared not speak while they were silent. what astonished him most was that they changed seats one after another, and in such a way that each one passed round the fire and came back to his own place. when he drew near the fire an old man with long white beard and bald head arose from the flames and spoke to him thus: "man, waste not thy life here; return to thy cottage, work, and live honestly. take as many embers as thou wilt, we have more than we need." and having said this he disappeared. then the twelve filled a large sack with embers, and, putting it on the poor man's shoulders, advised him to hasten home. humbly thanking them, he set off. as he went he wondered why the embers did not feel hot, and why they should weigh no more than a sack of paper. he was thankful that he should be able to have a fire, but imagine his astonishment when on arriving home he found the sack to contain as many gold pieces as there had been embers; he almost went out of his mind with joy at the possession of so much money. with all his heart he thanked those who had been so ready to help him in his need. he was now rich, and rejoiced to be able to provide for his family. being curious to find out how many gold pieces there were, and not knowing how to count, he sent his wife to his rich brother for the loan of a quart measure. this time the brother was in a better temper, so he lent what was asked of him, but said mockingly, "what can such beggars as you have to measure?" the wife replied, "our neighbor owes us some wheat; we want to be sure he returns us the right quantity." the rich brother was puzzled, and suspecting something he, unknown to his sister-in-law, put some grease inside the measure. the trick succeeded, for on getting it back he found a piece of gold sticking to it. filled with astonishment, he could only suppose his brother had joined a band of robbers: so he hurried to his brother's cottage, and threatened to bring him before the justice of the peace if he did not confess where the gold came from. the poor man was troubled, and, dreading to offend his brother, told the story of his journey to the crystal mountain. now the elder brother had plenty of money for himself, yet he was envious of the brother's good fortune, and became greatly displeased when he found that his brother won every one's esteem by the good use he made of his wealth. at last, he too determined to visit the crystal mountain. "i may meet with as good luck as my brother," said he to himself. upon reaching the crystal mountain he found the twelve seated round the fire as before, and thus addressed them: "i beg of you, good people, to let me warm myself, for it is bitterly cold, and i am poor and homeless." but one of them replied: "my son, the hour of thy birth was favorable; thou art rich, but a miser; thou art wicked, for thou hast dared to lie to us. well dost thou deserve thy punishment." amazed and terrified he stood silent, not daring to speak. meanwhile the twelve changed places one after another, each at last returning to his own seat. then from the midst of the flames arose the white-bearded old man and spoke thus sternly to the rich man: "woe unto the willful! thy brother is virtuous, therefore have i blessed him. as for thee, thou are wicked, and so shalt not escape our vengeance." at these words the twelve arose. the first seized the unfortunate man, struck him, and passed him on to the second; the second also struck him and passed him on to the third; and so did they all in their turn, until he was given up to the old man, who disappeared with him into the fire. days, weeks, months went by, but the rich man never returned, and none knew what had become of him. i think, between you and me, the younger brother had his suspicions but he very wisely kept them to himself. the twelve months adapted by alexander chodsko there was once a widow who had two daughters, helen, her own child by her dead husband, and marouckla, his daughter by his first wife. she loved helen, but hated the poor orphan, because she was far prettier than her own daughter. marouckla did not think about her good looks, and could not understand why her stepmother should be angry at the sight of her. the hardest work fell to her share; she cleaned out the rooms, cooked, washed, sewed, spun, wove, brought in the hay, milked the cow, and all this without any help. helen, meanwhile, did nothing but dress herself in her best clothes and go to one amusement after another. but marouckla never complained; she bore the scoldings and bad temper of mother and sister with a smile on her lips, and the patience of a lamb. but this angelic behavior did not soften them. they became even more tyrannical and grumpy, for marouckla grew daily more beautiful while helen's ugliness increased. so the stepmother determined to get rid of marouckla, for she knew that while she remained her own daughter would have no suitors. hunger, every kind of privation, abuse, every means was used to make the girl's life miserable. the most wicked of men could not have been more mercilessly cruel than these two vixens. but in spite of it all marouckla grew ever sweeter and more charming. one day in the middle of winter helen wanted some wood-violets. "listen," cried she to marouckla; "you must go up the mountain and find me some violets, i want some to put in my gown; they must be fresh and sweet-scented--do you hear?" "but, my dear sister, who ever heard of violets blooming in the snow?" said the poor orphan. "you wretched creature! do you dare to disobey me?" said helen. "not another word; off with you. if you do not bring me some violets from the mountain forest, i will kill you." the stepmother also added her threats to those of helen, and with vigorous blows they pushed marouckla outside and shut the door upon her. the weeping girl made her way to the mountain. the snow lay deep, and there was no trace of any human being. long she wandered hither and thither, and lost herself in the wood. she was hungry, and shivered with cold, and prayed to die. suddenly she saw a light in the distance, and climbed towards it, till she reached the top of the mountain. upon the highest peak burnt a large fire, surrounded by twelve blocks of stone, on which sat twelve strange beings. of these the first three had white hair, three were not quite so old, three were young and handsome, and the rest still younger. there they all sat silently looking at the fire. they were the twelve months of the year. the great setchène (january) was placed higher than the others; his hair and mustache were white as snow, and in his hand he held a wand. at first marouckla was afraid, but after a while her courage returned and drawing near she said: "men of god, may i warm myself at your fire? i am chilled by the winter cold." the great setchène raised his head and answered: "what brings thee here, my daughter? what dost thou seek?" "i am looking for violets," replied the maiden. "this is not the season for violets; dost thou not see the snow everywhere?" said setchène. "i know well, but my sister helen and my stepmother have ordered me to bring them violets from your mountain: if i return without them they will kill me. i pray you, good shepherds, tell me where they may be found?" here the great setchène arose and went over to the youngest of the months, and placing his wand in his hand, said: "brother brezène (march), do thou take the highest place." brezène obeyed, at the same time waving his wand over the fire. immediately the flames rose towards the sky, the snow began to melt and the tress and shrubs to bud; the grass became green, and from between its blades peeped the pale primrose. it was spring, and the meadows were blue with violets. "gather them quickly, marouckla," said brezène. joyfully she hastened to pick the flowers, and having soon a large bunch she thanked them and ran home. helen and the stepmother were amazed at the sight of the flowers, the scent of which filled the house. "where did you find them?" asked helen. "under the trees on the mountain slope," said marouckla. helen kept the flowers for herself and her mother; she did not even thank her stepsister for the trouble she had taken. the next day she desired marouckla to fetch her strawberries. "run," said she, "and fetch me strawberries from the mountain: they must be very sweet and ripe." "but who ever heard of strawberries ripening in the snow?" exclaimed marouckla. "hold your tongue, worm; don't answer me; if i don't have my strawberries i will kill you." then the stepmother pushed her into the yard and bolted the door. the unhappy girl made her way towards the mountain and to the large fire round which sat the twelve months. the great setchène occupied the highest place. "men of god, may i warm myself at your fire? the winter cold chills me," said she, drawing near. the great setchène raised his head and asked: "why comest thou here? what dost thou seek?" "i am looking for strawberries," said she. "we are in the midst of winter," replied setchène; strawberries do not grow in the snow." "i know," said the girl sadly, "but my sister and stepmother have ordered me to bring them strawberries; if i do not they will kill me. pray, good shepherds, tell me where to find them." the great setchène arose, crossed over to the month opposite him, and putting the wand into his hand, said: "brother tchervène (june), do thou take the highest place." tchervène obeyed, and as he waved his wand over the fire the flames leapt towards the sky. instantly the snow melted, the earth was covered with verdure, trees were clothed with leaves, birds began to sing, and various flowers blossomed in the forest. it was summer. under the bushes masses of star-shaped flowers changed into ripening strawberries. before marouckla had time to cross herself they covered the glade, making it look like a sea of blood. "gather them quickly, marouckla," said tchervène. joyfully she thanked the months, and having filled her apron ran happily home. helen and her mother wondered at seeing the strawberries, which filled the house with their delicious fragrance. "wherever did you find them?" asked helen crossly. "right up among the mountains; those from under the beech trees are not bad." helen gave a few to her mother and ate the rest herself; not one did she offer to her stepsister. being tired of strawberries, on the third day she took a fancy for some fresh red apples. "run, marouckla," said she, "and fetch me fresh red apples from the mountain." "apples in winter, sister? why, the trees have neither leaves nor fruit." "idle creature, go this minute," said helen; "unless you bring back apples we will kill you." as before, the stepmother seized her roughly and turned her out of the house. the poor girl went weeping up the mountain, across the deep snow upon which lay no human footprint, and on towards the fire round which were the twelve months. motionless sat they, and on the highest stone was the great setchène. "men of god, may i warm myself at your fire? the winter cold chills me," said she, drawing near. the great setchène raised his head. "why com'st thou here? what dost thou seek?" asked he. "i am come to look for red apples," replied marouckla. "but this is winter, and not the season for red apples," observed the great setchène. "i know," answered the girl, "but my sister and stepmother, sent me to fetch red apples from the mountain; if i return without them they will kill me." thereupon the great setchène arose and went over to one of the elderly months, to whom he handed the wand, saying: "brother zarè (september), do thou take the highest place." zarè moved to the highest stone and waved his wand over the fire. there was a flare of red flames, the snow disappeared, but the fading leaves which trembled on the trees were sent by a cold northeast wind in yellow masses to the glade. only a few flowers of autumn were visible, such as the fleabane and red gillyflower, autumn colchicums in the ravine, and under the beeches bracken and tufts of northern heather. at first marouckla looked in vain for red apples. then she espied a tree which grew at a great height, and from the branches of this hung the bright red fruit. zarè ordered her to gather some quickly. the girl was delighted and shook the tree. first one apple fell, then another. "that is enough," said zarè, "hurry home." thanking the months, she returned joyfully. helen marveled and the stepmother wondered at seeing the fruit. "where did you gather them?" asked the stepsister. "there are more on the mountain top," answered marouckla. "then why did you not bring more?" said helen angrily; "you must have eaten them on your way back, you wicked girl." "no, dear sister, i have not even tasted them," said marouckla. "i shook the tree twice; one apple fell each time. i was not allowed to shake it again, but was told to return home." "may god smite you with his thunderbolt," said helen, striking her. marouckla prayed to die rather than suffer such ill-treatment. weeping bitterly, she took refuge in the kitchen. helen and her mother found the apples more delicious than any they had ever tasted, and when they had eaten both longed for more. "listen, mother," said helen. "give me my cloak; i will fetch some more apples myself, or else that good-for-nothing wretch will eat them all on the way. i shall be able to find the mountain and the tree. the shepherds may cry 'stop,' but i shall not leave go till i have shaken down all the apples." in spite of her mother's advice she put on her cloak, covered her head with a warm hood, and took the road to the mountain. the mother stood and watched her till she was lost in the distance. snow covered everything, not a human footprint was to be seen on its surface. helen lost herself and wandered hither and thither. after a while she saw a light above her, and following in its direction reached the mountain top. there was the flaming fire, the twelve blocks of stone, and the twelve months. at first she was frightened and hesitated; then she came nearer and warmed her hands. she did not ask permission, nor did she speak one polite word. "what has brought thee here? what dost thou seek?" said the great setchène severely. "i am not obliged to tell you, old graybeard; what business is it of yours?" she replied disdainfully, turning her back on the fire and going towards the forest. the great setchène frowned, and waved his wand over his head. instantly the sky became covered with clouds, the fire went down, snow fell in large flakes, an icy wind howled round the mountain. amid the fury of the storm helen added curses against her stepsister. the cloak failed to warm her benumbed limbs. the mother kept on waiting for her; she looked from the window, she watched from the doorstep, but her daughter came not. the hours passed slowly, but helen did not return. "can it be that the apples have charmed her from her home?" thought the mother. then she clad herself in hood and shawl and went in search of her daughter. snow fell in huge masses; it covered all things, it lay untouched by human footsteps. for long she wandered hither and thither; the icy northeast wind whistled in the mountain, but no voice answered her cries. day after day marouckla worked and prayed, and waited; but neither stepmother nor sister returned, they had been frozen to death on the mountain. the inheritance of a small house, a field, and a cow fell to marouckla. in course of time an honest farmer came to share them with her, and their lives were happy and peaceful. the sun; or, the three golden hairs of the old man vsÉvÈde adapted by alexander chodsko can this be a true story? it is said that once there was a king who was exceedingly fond of hunting the wild beasts in his forests. one day he followed a stag so far and so long that he lost his way. alone and overtaken by night, he was glad to find himself near a small thatched cottage in which lived a charcoal-burner. "will you kindly show me the way to the highroad? you shall be handsomely rewarded." "i would willingly," said the charcoal-burner, "but god is going to send my wife a little child, and i cannot leave her alone. will you pass the night under our roof? there is a truss of sweet hay in the loft where you may rest, and to-morrow morning i will be your guide." the king accepted the invitation and went to bed in the loft. shortly after a son was born to the charcoal-burner's wife. but the king could not sleep. at midnight he heard noises in the house, and looking through a crack in the flooring he saw the charcoal-burner asleep, his wife almost in a faint, and by the side of the newly-born babe three old women dressed in white, each holding a lighted taper in her hand, and all talking together. now these were the three soudiché or fates, you must know. the first said, "on this boy i bestow the gift of confronting great dangers." the second said, "i bestow the power of happily escaping all these dangers, and of living to a good old age." the third said, "i bestow upon him for wife the princess born at the self-same hour as he, and daughter of the very king sleeping above in the loft." at these words the lights went out and silence reigned around. now the king was greatly troubled, and wondered exceedingly; he felt as if he had received a sword-thrust in the chest. he lay awake all night thinking how to prevent the words of the fates from coming true. with the first glimmer of morning light the baby began to cry. the charcoal-burner, on going over to it, found that his wife was dead. "poor little orphan," he said sadly, "what will become of thee without a mother's care?" "confide this child to me," said the king, "i will look after it. he shall be well provided for. you shall be given a sum of money large enough to keep you without having to burn charcoal." the poor man gladly agreed, and the king went away promising to send some one for the child. the queen and the courtiers thought it would be an agreeable surprise for the king to hear that a charming little princess had been born on the night he was away. but instead of being pleased he frowned and calling one of his servants, said to him, "go to the charcoal-burner's cottage in the, forest, and give the man this purse in exchange for a new-born infant. on your way back drown the child. see well that he is drowned, for if he should in any way escape, you yourself shall suffer in his place." the servant was given the child in a basket, and on reaching the center of a narrow bridge that stretched across a wide and deep river, he threw both basket and baby into the water. "a prosperous journey to you, mr. son-in-law," said the king, on hearing the servant's story; for he fully believed the child was drowned. but it was far from being the case; the little one was floating happily along in its basket cradle, and slumbering as sweetly as if his mother had sung him to sleep. now it happened that a fisherman, who was mending his nets before his cottage door, saw the basket floating down the river. he jumped at once into his boat, picked it up, and ran to tell his wife the good news. "look," said he, "you have always longed for a son; here is a beautiful little boy the river has sent us." the woman was delighted, and took the infant and loved it as her own child. they named him _plavacek_ (the floater), because he had come to them floating on the water. the river flowed on. years passed away. the little baby grew into a handsome youth; in all the villages round there were none to compare with him. now it happened that one summer day the king was riding unattended, and the heat being very great he reined in his horse before the fisherman's door to ask for a drink of water. plavacek brought the water. the king looked at him attentively, then turning to the fisherman, said, "that is a good-looking lad; is he your son?" "he is and he isn't," replied the fisherman. "i found him, when he was quite a tiny baby, floating down the stream in a basket. so we adopted him and brought him up as our own son." the king turned as pale as death, for he guessed that he was the same child he had ordered to be drowned. then recovering himself he got down from his horse and said: "i want a trusty messenger to take a message to the palace, could you send him with it?" "with pleasure! your majesty may be sure of its safe delivery." thereupon the king wrote to the queen as follows: "the man who brings you this letter is the most dangerous of all my enemies. have his head cut off at once; no delay, no pity, he must be executed before my return. such is my will and pleasure." this he carefully folded and sealed with the royal seal. plavacek took the letter and set off immediately. but the forest through which he had to pass was so large, and the trees so thick, that he missed the path and was overtaken by the darkness before the journey was nearly over. in the midst of his trouble he met an old woman who said, "where are you going, plavacek? where are you going?" "i am the bearer of a letter from the king to the queen, but have missed the path to the palace. could you, good mother, put me on the right road?" "impossible to-day, my child; it is getting dark, and you would not have time to get there. stay with me to-night. you will not be with strangers, for i am your godmother." plavacek agreed. thereupon they entered a pretty little cottage that seemed suddenly to sink into the earth. now while he slept the old woman changed his letter for another, which ran thus: "immediately upon the receipt of this letter introduce the bearer to the princess our daughter, i have chosen this young man for my son-in-law, and it is my wish they should be married before my return to the palace. such is my pleasure." the letter was duly delivered, and when the queen had read it, she ordered everything to be prepared for the wedding. both she and her daughter greatly enjoyed plavacek's society, and nothing disturbed the happiness of the newly married pair. within a few days the king returned, and on hearing what had taken place was very angry with the queen. "but you expressly bade me have the wedding before your return. come, read your letter again, here it is," said she. he closely examined the letter; the paper, handwriting, seal--all were undoubtedly his. he then called his son-in-law, and questioned him about his journey. plavacek hid nothing: he told how he had lost his way, and how he had passed the night in a cottage in the forest. "what was the old woman like?" asked the king. from plavacek's description the king knew it was the very same who, twenty years before, had foretold the marriage of the princess with the charcoal-burner's son. after some moments' thought the king said: "what is done is done. but you will not become my son-in-law so easily. no, i' faith! as a wedding present you must bring me three golden hairs from the head of dède-vsévède." in this way he thought to get rid of his son-in-law, whose very presence was distasteful to him. the young fellow took leave of his wife and set off. "i know not which way to go," said he to himself, "but my godmother the witch will surely help me." but he found the way easily enough. he walked on and on and on for a long time over mountain, valley, and river, until he reached the shores of the black sea. there he found a boat and boatman. "may god bless you, old boatman," said he. "and you, too, my young traveler. where are you going?" "to dède-vsévède's castle for three of his golden hairs." "ah, then you are very welcome. for a long weary while i have been waiting for such a messenger as you. i have been ferrying passengers across for these twenty years, and not one of them has done anything to help me. if you will promise to ask dède-vsévède when i shall be released from my toil i will row you across." plavacek promised, and was rowed to the opposite bank. he continued his journey on foot until he came in sight of a large town half in ruins, near which was passing a funeral procession. the king of that country was following his father's coffin, and with the tears running down his cheeks. "may god comfort you in your distress," said plavacek. "thank you, good traveler. where are you going?" "to the house of dède-vsévède in quest of three of his golden hairs." "to the house of dède-vsévède? indeed! what a pity you did not come sooner, we have long been expecting such a messenger as you. come and see me by-and-by." when plavacek presented himself at court the king said to him: "we understand you are on your way to the house of dède-vsévède! now we have an apple-tree here that bears the fruit of everlasting youth. one of these apples eaten by a man, even though he be dying, will cure him and make him young again. for the last twenty years neither fruit nor flower has been found on this tree. will you ask dède-vsévède the cause of it?" "that i will, with pleasure." then plavacek continued his journey, and as he went he came to a large and beautiful city where all was sad and silent. near the gate was an old man who leaned on a stick and walked with difficulty. "may god bless you, good old man." "and you, too, my handsome young traveler. where are you going?" "to dède-vsévède's palace in search of three of his golden hairs." "ah, you are the very messenger i have so long waited for. allow me to take you to my master the king." on their arrival at the palace, the king said, "i hear you are an ambassador to dède-vsévède. we have here a well, the water of which renews itself. so wonderful are its effects that invalids are immediately cured on drinking it, while a few drops sprinkled on a corpse will bring it to life again. for the past twenty years this well has remained dry: if you will ask old dède-vsévède how the flow of water may be restored i will reward you royally." plavacek promised to do so, and was dismissed with good wishes. he then traveled through deep dark forests, in the midst of which might be seen a large meadow: out of it grew lovely flowers, and in the center stood a castle built of gold. it was the home of dède-vsévède. so brilliant with light was it that it seemed to be built of fire. when he entered there was no one there but an old woman spinning. "greeting, plavacek, i am well pleased to see you." she was his godmother, who had given him shelter in her cottage when he was the bearer of the king's letter. "tell me what brings you here from such a distance," she went on. "the king would not have me for his son-in-law, unless i first got him three golden hairs from the head of dède-vsévède. so he sent me here to fetch them." the fate laughed. "dède-vsévède indeed! why, i am his mother, it is the shining sun himself. he is a child at morning time, a grown man at midday, a decrepit old man, looking as if he had lived a hundred years, at eventide. but i will see that you have the three hairs from his head; i am not your godmother for nothing. all the same you must not remain here. my son is a good lad, but when he comes home he is hungry, and would very probably order you to be roasted for his supper. now i will turn this empty bucket upside down, and you shall hide underneath it." plavacek begged the fate to obtain from dède-vsévède the answers to the three questions he had been asked. "i will do so certainly, but you must listen to what he says." suddenly a blast of wind howled round the palace, and the sun entered by a western window. he was an old man with golden hair. "i smell human flesh," cried he, "i am sure of it. mother, you have some one here." "star of day," she replied, "whom could i have here that you would not see sooner than i? the fact is that in your daily journeys the scent of human flesh is always with you, so when you come home at evening it clings to you still." the old man said nothing, and sat down to supper. when he had finished he laid his golden head on the fate's lap and went to sleep. then she pulled out a hair and threw it on the ground. it fell with a metallic sound like the vibration of a guitar string. "what do you want, mother?" asked he. "nothing, my son; i was sleeping, and had a strange dream." "what was it, mother?" "i thought i was in a place where there was a well, and the well was fed from a spring, the water of which cured all diseases. even the dying were restored to health on drinking that water, and the dead who were sprinkled with it came to life again. for the last twenty years the well has run dry. what must be done to restore the flow of water?" "that is very simple. a frog has lodged itself in the opening of the spring, this prevents the flow of water. kill the frog, and the water will return to the well." he slept again, and the old woman pulled out another golden hair, and threw it on the ground. "mother, what do you want?" "nothing, my son, nothing; i was dreaming. in my dream i saw a large town, the name of which i have forgotten. and there grew an apple-tree the fruit of which had the power to make the old young again. a single apple eaten by an old man would restore to him the vigor and freshness of youth. for twenty years this tree has not borne fruit. what can be done to make it fruitful?" "the means are not difficult. a snake hidden among the roots destroys the sap. kill the snake, transplant the tree, and the fruit will grow as before." he again fell asleep, and the old woman pulled out another golden hair. "now mother, why will you not let me sleep?" said the old man, really vexed; and he would have got up. "lie down, my darling son, do not disturb yourself. i am sorry i awoke you, but i have had a very strange dream. it seemed that i saw a boatman on the shores of the black sea, and he complained that he had been toiling at the ferry for twenty years without any one having come to take his place. for how much longer must this poor old man continue to row?" "he is a silly fellow. he has but to place his oars in the hands of the first comer and jump ashore. who ever receives the oars will replace him as ferryman. but leave me in peace now, mother, and do not wake me again. i have to rise very early, and must first dry the eyes of a princess. the poor thing spends all night weeping for her husband who has been sent by the king to get three of my golden hairs." next morning the wind whistled round dède-vsévède's palace, and instead of an old man, a beautiful child with golden hair awoke on the old woman's lap. it was the glorious sun. he bade her good-by, and flew out of the eastern window. the old woman turned up the bucket and said to plavacek: "look, here are the three golden hairs. you now know the answers to your questions. may god direct you and send you a prosperous journey. you will not see me again, for you will have no further need of me." he thanked her gratefully and left her. on arriving at the town with the dried-up well, he was questioned by the king as to what news he had brought. "have the well carefully cleaned out," said he, "kill the frog that obstructs the spring, and the wonderful water will flow again." the king did as he was advised, and rejoiced to see the water return. he gave plavacek twelve swan-white horses, and as much gold and silver as they could carry. on reaching the second town and being asked by the king what news he had brought, he replied, "excellent; one could not wish for better. dig up your apple-tree, kill the snake that lies among the roots, transplant the tree, and it will produce apples like those of former times." and all turned out as he had said, for no sooner was the tree replanted than it was covered with blossoms that gave it the appearance of a sea of roses. the delighted king gave him twelve raven-black horses, laden with as much wealth as they could carry. he then journeyed to the shores of the black sea. there the boatman questioned him as to what news he had brought respecting his release. plavacek first crossed with his twenty-four horses to the opposite bank, and then replied that the boatman might gain his freedom by placing the oars in the hands of the first traveler who wished to be ferried over. plavacek's royal father-in-law could not believe his eyes when he saw dède-vsévède's three golden hairs. as for the princess, his young wife, she wept tears, but of joy, not sadness, to see her dear one again, and she said to him, "how did you get such splendid horses and so much wealth, dear husband?" and he answered her, "all this represents the price paid for the weariness of spirit i have felt; it is the ready money for hardships endured and services given. thus, i showed one king how to regain possession of the apples of youth: to another i told the secret of reopening the spring of water that gives health and life." "apples of youth! water of life!" interrupted the king. "i will certainly go and find these treasures for myself. ah, what joy! having eaten of these apples i shall become young again; having drunk of the water of immortality, i shall live forever." and he started off in search of these treasures. but he has not yet returned from his search. a myth of america hiawatha adapted from h.r. schoolcraft's version hiawatha was living with his grandmother near the edge of a wide prairie. on this prairie he first saw animals and birds of every kind. he there also saw exhibitions of divine power in the sweeping tempests, in the thunder and lightning, and the various shades of light and darkness which form a never ending scene for observation. every new sight he beheld in the heavens was a subject of remark; every new animal or bird an object of deep interest; and every sound uttered by the animal creation a new lesson, which he was expected to learn. he often trembled at what he heard and saw. to this scene his grandmother sent him at an early age to watch. the first sound he heard was that of an owl, at which he was greatly terrified, and quickly descending the tree he had climbed, he ran with alarm to the lodge. "noko! noko!" (grandma) he cried, "i have heard a momendo." she laughed at his fears, and asked him what kind of a noise it made. he answered, "it makes a noise like this: ko-ko-ko-ho." she told him that he was young and foolish; that what he had heard was only a bird, deriving its name from the noise it made. he went back and continued his watch. while there, he thought to himself, "it is singular that i am so simple, and my grandmother so wise, and that i have neither father nor mother. i have never heard a word about them. i must ask and find out." he went home and sat down silent and dejected. at length his grandmother asked him, "hiawatha, what is the matter with you?" he answered, "i wish you would tell me whether i have any parents living and who my relatives are." knowing that he was of a wicked and revengeful disposition, she dreaded telling him the story of his parentage, but he insisted on her compliance. "yes," she said, "you have a father and three brothers living. your mother is dead. she was taken without the consent of her parents by your father the west. your brothers are the north, east, and south, and, being older than yourself, your father has given them great power with the winds, according to their names. you are the youngest of his children. i have nourished you from your infancy, for your mother died in giving you birth, owing to the ill-treatment of your father. i have no relations besides you this side of the planet on which i was born, and from which i was precipitated by female jealousy. your mother was my only child, and you are my only hope." he appeared to be rejoiced to hear that his father was living, for he had already thought in his heart to try and kill him. he told his grandmother he should set out in the morning to visit him. she said it was a long distance to the place where the west lived. but that had no effect to stop him for he had now attained manhood, possessed a giant's height, and was endowed by nature with a giant's strength and power. he set out and soon reached the place, for every step he took covered a large surface of ground. the meeting took place on a high mountain in the west. his father appeared very happy to see him. they spent some days in talking with each other. one evening hiawatha asked his father what he was most afraid of on earth. he replied, "nothing." "but is there not something you dread here? tell me." at last his father said, yielding, "yes, there is a black stone found in such a place. it is the only earthly thing i am afraid of; for if it should hit me, or any part of my body, it would injure me very much." he said this as a secret, and in return asked his son the same question. knowing each other's power, although the son's was limited, the father feared him on account of his great strength. hiawatha answered, "nothing!" intending to avoid the question, or to refer to some harmless object as the one of which he was afraid. he was asked again, and again, and answered, "nothing!" but the west said, "there must be something you are afraid of." "well! i will tell you," said hiawatha, "what it is." but, before he would pronounce the word, he affected great dread. "_ie-ee_--_ie-ee_--it is--it is," said he, "yeo! yeo! i cannot name it; i am seized with a dread." the west told him to banish his fears. he commenced again, in a strain of mock sensitiveness repeating the same words; at last he cried out, "it is the root of the bulrush." he appeared to be exhausted by the effort of pronouncing the word, in all this skilfully acting a studied part. some time after he observed, "i will get some of the black rock;" the west said, "far be it from you; do not so, my son." he still persisted. "well," said the father, "i will also get the bulrush root." hiawatha immediately cried out, "do not--do not," affecting as before, to be in great dread of it, but really wishing, by this course, to urge on the west to procure it, that he might draw him into combat. he went out and got a large piece of the black rock, and brought it home. the west also took care to bring the dreaded root. in the course of conversation he asked his father whether he had been the cause of his mother's death. the answer was "yes!" he then took up the rock and struck him. blow led to blow, and here commenced an obstinate and furious combat, which continued several days. fragments of the rock, broken off under hiawatha's blows, can be seen in various places to this day. the root did not prove as mortal a weapon as his well-acted fears had led his father to expect, although he suffered severely from the blows. this battle commenced on the mountains. the west was forced to give ground. hiawatha drove him across rivers, and over mountains and lakes, and at last he came to the brink of this world. "hold!" cried he, "my son; you know my power, and that it is impossible to kill me. desist, and i will also portion you out with as much power as your brothers. the four quarters of the globe are already occupied; but you can go and do a great deal of good to the people of this earth, which is infested with large serpents, beasts, and monsters, who make great [blank page] havoc among the inhabitants. go and do good. you have the power now to do so, and your fame with the beings of this earth will last forever. when you have finished your work, i will have a place provided for you. you will then go and sit with your brother in the north." [illustration: from the "cosmopolitan magazine" by permission. hiawatha in his canoe.] hiawatha was pacified. he returned to his lodge, where he was confined by the wounds he had received. but owing to his grandmother's skill in medicine he was soon recovered. she told him that his grandfather, who had come to the earth in search of her, had been killed by meg-gis-sog-won, who lived on the opposite side of the great lake. "when he was alive," she continued, "i was never without oil to put on my head, but now my hair is fast falling off for the want of it." "well!" said he, "noko, get cedar bark and make me a line, while i make a canoe." when all was ready, he went out to the middle of the lake to fish. he put his line down, saying, "me-she-nah-ma-gwai (the name of the kingfish), take hold of my bait." he kept repeating this for some time. at last the king of the fishes said, "hiawatha troubles me. here, trout, take hold of his line," which was very heavy, so that his canoe stood nearly perpendicular; but he kept crying out, "wha-ee-he! wha-ee-he!" till he could see the trout. as soon as he saw him, he spoke to him. "why did you take hold of my hook? shame, shame you ugly fish." the trout, being thus rebuked, let go. hiawatha put his line again in the water, saying, "king of fishes, take hold of my line." but the king of fishes told a monstrous sunfish to take hold of it; for hiawatha was tiring him with his incessant calls. he again drew up his line with difficulty, saying as before, "wha-ee-he! wha-ee-he!" while his canoe was turning in swift circles. when he saw the sunfish, he cried, "shame, shame you odious fish! why did you dirty my hook by taking it in your mouth? let go, i say, let go." the sunfish did so, and told the king of fishes what hiawatha said. just at that moment the bait came near the king, and hearing hiawatha continually crying out, "me-she-nah-ma-gwai, take hold of my hook," at last he did so, and allowed himself to be drawn up to the surface, which he had no sooner reached than, at one mouthful, he took hiawatha and his canoe down. when he came to himself, he found that he was in the fish's belly, and also his canoe. he now turned his thoughts to the way of making his escape. looking in his canoe, he saw his war-club, with which he immediately struck the heart of the fish. he then felt a sudden motion, as if he were moving with great velocity. the fish observed to the others, "i am sick at stomach for having swallowed this dirty fellow, hiawatha." just at this moment he received another severe blow on the heart. hiawatha thought, "if i am thrown up in the middle of the lake, i shall be drowned; so i must prevent it." he drew his canoe and placed it across the fish's throat, and just as he had finished the fish commenced vomiting, but to no effect. in this he was aided by a squirrel, who had accompanied him unperceived until that moment. this animal had taken an active part in helping him to place his canoe across the fish's throat. for this act he named him, saying, "for the future, boys shall always call you ajidaumo [upside down]!" he then renewed his attack upon the fish's heart, and succeeded, by repeated blows, in killing him, which he first knew by the loss of motion, and by the sound of the beating of the body against the shore. he waited a day longer to see what would happen. he heard birds scratching on the body, and all at once the rays of light broke in. he could see the heads of gulls, who were looking in by the opening they had made. "oh!" cried hiawatha, "my younger brothers, make the opening larger, so that i can get out." they told each other that their brother hiawatha was inside of the fish. they immediately set about enlarging the orifice, and in a short time liberated him. after he got out he said to the gulls, "for the future you shall be called kayoshk [noble scratchers]!" the spot where the fish happened to be driven ashore was near his lodge. he went up and told his grandmother to go and prepare as much oil as she wanted. all besides, he informed her, he should keep for himself. some time after this, he commenced making preparations for a war excursion against the pearl feather, the manito who lived on the opposite side of the great lake, who had killed his grandfather. the abode of his spirit was defended, first, by fiery serpents, who hissed fire so that no one could pass them; and, in the second place, by a large mass of gummy matter lying on the water, so soft and adhesive, that whoever attempted to pass, or whatever came in contact with it, was sure to stick there. he continued making bows and arrows without number, but he had no heads for his arrows. at last noko told him that an old man who lived at some distance could make them. he sent her to get some. she soon returned with her conaus, or wrapper, full. still he told her he had not enough, and sent her again. she returned with as many more. he thought to himself, "i must find out the way of making these heads." cunning and curiosity prompted him to make the discovery. but he deemed it necessary to deceive his grandmother in so doing. "noko," said he, "while i take my drum and rattle, and sing my war-songs, go and try to get me some larger heads for my arrows, for those you brought me are all of the same size. go and see whether the old man cannot make some a little larger." he followed her as she went, keeping at a distance, and saw the old artificer at work, and so discovered his process. he also beheld the old man's daughter, and perceived that she was very beautiful. he felt his breast beat with a new emotion, but said nothing. he took care to get home before his grandmother, and commenced singing as if he had never left his lodge. when the old woman came near, she heard his drum and rattle, without any suspicion that he had followed her. she delivered him the arrow-heads. one evening the old woman said, "my son, you ought to fast before you go to war, as your brothers frequently do, to find out whether you will be successful or not." he said he had no objection, and immediately commenced a fast for several days. he would retire every day from the lodge so far as to be out of the reach of his grandmother's voice. after having finished his term of fasting and sung his war-song from which the indians of the present day derive their custom--he embarked in his canoe, fully prepared for war. in addition to the usual implements, he had a plentiful supply of oil. he traveled rapidly night and day, for he had only to will or speak, and the canoe went. at length he arrived in sight of the fiery serpents. he stopped to view them. he saw they were some distance apart, and that the flame only which issued from them reached across the pass. he commenced talking as a friend to them; but they answered, "we know you, hiawatha, you cannot pass." he then thought of some expedient to deceive them, and hit upon this. he pushed his canoe as near as possible. all at once he cried out, with a loud and terrified voice, "what is that behind you?" the serpents instantly turned their heads, when, at a single word, he passed them. "well!" said he, placidly, after he had got by, "how do you like my exploit?" he then took up his bow and arrows, and with deliberate aim shot them, which was easily done, for the serpents were stationary, and could not move beyond a certain spot. they were of enormous length and of a bright color. having overcome the sentinel serpents, he went on in his magic canoe till he came to a soft gummy portion of the lake, called pigiu-wagumee or pitchwater. he took the oil and rubbed it on his canoe, and then pushed into it. the oil softened the surface and enabled him to slip through it with ease, although it required frequent rubbing, and a constant re-application of the oil. just as his oil failed, he extricated himself from this impediment, and was the first person who ever succeeded in overcoming it. he now came in view of land, on which he debarked in safety, and could see the lodge of the shining manito, situated on a hill. he commenced preparing for the fight, putting his arrows and clubs in order, and just at the dawn of day began his attack, yelling and shouting, and crying with triple voices, "surround him! surround him! run up! run up!" making it appear that he had many followers. he advanced crying out, "it was you that killed my grandfather," and with this shot his arrows. the combat continued all day. hiawatha's arrows had no effect, for his antagonist was clothed with pure wampum. he was now reduced to three arrows, and it was only by extraordinary agility that he could escape the blows which the manito kept making at him. at that moment a large woodpecker (the ma-ma) flew past, and lit on a tree. "hiawatha" he cried, "your adversary has a vulnerable point; shoot at the lock of hair on the crown of his head." he shot his first arrow so as only to draw blood from that part. the manito made one or two unsteady steps, but recovered himself. he began to parley, but, in the act, received a second arrow, which brought him to his knees. but he again recovered. in so doing, however, he exposed his head, and gave his adversary a chance to fire his third arrow, which penetrated deep, and brought him a lifeless corpse to the ground. hiawatha uttered his saw-saw-quan, and taking his scalp as a trophy, he called the woodpecker to come and receive a reward for his information. he took the blood of the manito and rubbed it on the woodpecker's head, the feathers of which are red to this day. after this victory he returned home, singing songs of triumph and beating his drum. when his grandmother heard him, she came to the shore and welcomed him with songs and dancing. glory fired his mind. he displayed the trophies he had brought in the most conspicuous manner, and felt an unconquerable desire for other adventures. he felt himself urged by the consciousness of his power to new trials of bravery, skill, and necromantic prowess. he had destroyed the manito of wealth, and killed his guardian serpents, and eluded all his charms. he did not long remain inactive. his next adventure was upon the water, and proved him the prince of fishermen. he captured a fish of such a monstrous size, that the fat and oil he obtained from it formed a small lake. he therefore invited all the animals and fowls to a banquet, and he made the order in which they partook of this repast the measure of their fatness. as fast as they arrived, he told them to plunge in. the bear came first, and was followed by the deer, opossum, and such other animals as are noted for their peculiar fatness at certain seasons. the moose and bison came tardily. the partridge looked on till the reservoir was nearly exhausted. the hare and marten came last, and these animals have consequently no fat. when this ceremony was over, he told the assembled animals and birds to dance, taking up his drum and crying, "new songs from the south, come, brothers, dance." he directed them to pass in a circle around him, and to shut their eyes. they did so. when he saw a fat fowl pass by him, he adroitly wrung off its head, at the same time beating his drum and singing with greater vehemence, to drown the noise of the fluttering, and crying out, in a tone of admiration, "that's the way, my brothers, _that's_ the way." at last a small duck [the diver], thinking there was something wrong, opened one eye and saw what he was doing. giving a spring and crying, "ha-ha-a! hiawatha is killing us," he made for the water. hiawatha followed him, and, just as the duck was getting into the water, gave him a kick, which is the cause of his back being flattened and his legs being straightened out backward, so that when he gets on land he cannot walk, and his tail feathers are few. meantime the other birds flew off, and the animals ran into the woods. after this hiawatha, set out to travel. he wished to outdo all others, and to see new countries. but after walking over america and encountering many adventures he became satisfied as well as fatigued. he had heard of great feats in hunting, and felt a desire to try his power in that way. one evening, as he was walking along the shores of a great lake, weary and hungry, he encountered a great magician in the form of an old wolf, with six young ones, coming towards him. the wolf, as soon as he saw him, told his whelps to keep out of the way of hiawatha, "for i know," continued he, "that it is he that we see yonder." the young wolves were in the act of running off, when hiawatha cried out, "my grandchildren, where are you going? stop, and i will go with you." he appeared rejoiced to see the old wolf, and asked him whither he was journeying. being told that they were looking for a place where they could find most game, and where they might pass the winter, he said he would like to go with them, and addressed the old wolf in the following words: "brother, i have a passion for the chase; are you willing to change me into a wolf?" he was answered favorably, and his transformation immediately effected. hiawatha was fond of novelty. he found himself a wolf corresponding in size with the others, but he was not quite satisfied with the change, crying out, "oh, make me a little larger." they did so. "a little larger still," he exclaimed. they said, "let us humor him," and granted his request. "well," said he, "_that_ will do." he looked at his tail. "oh!" cried he, "do make my tail a little longer and more bushy." they did so. they then all started off in company, dashing up a ravine. after getting into the woods some distance, they fell in with the tracks of moose. the young ones went after them, hiawatha and the old wolf following at their leisure. "well," said the wolf, "whom do you think is the fastest of the boys? can you tell by the jumps they take?" "why," he replied, "that one that takes such long jumps, he is the fastest, to be sure." "ha! ha! you are mistaken," said the old wolf. "he makes a good start, but he will be the first to tire out; this one who appears to be behind, will be the one to kill the game." they then came to the place where the boys had started in chase. one had dropped his small bundle. "take that, hiawatha," said the old wolf. "esa," he replied, "what will i do with a dirty dogskin?" the wolf took it up; it was a beautiful robe. "oh, i will carry it now," said hiawatha. "oh no," replied the wolf, who at the moment exerted his magic power; "it is a robe of pearls!" and from this moment he omitted no occasion to display his superiority, both in the art of the hunter and the magician above his conceited companion. coming to a place where the moose had lain down, they saw that the young wolves had made a fresh start after their prey. "why," said the wolf, "this moose is poor. i know by the tracks, for i can always tell whether they are fat or not." they next came to a place where one of the wolves had bit at the moose, and had broken one of his teeth on a tree. "hiawatha," said the wolf, "one of your grandchildren has shot at the game. take his arrow; there it is." "no," he replied; "what will i do with a dirty dog's tooth!" the old wolf took it up, and behold! it was a beautiful silver arrow. when they overtook the youngsters, they had killed a very fat moose. hiawatha was extremely hungry; but, alas! such is the power of enchantment, he saw nothing but the bones picked quite clean. he thought to himself, "just as i expected, dirty, greedy fellows!" however, he sat down without saying a word. at length the old wolf spoke to one of the young ones, saying, "give some meat to your grandfather." one of them obeyed, and, coming near to hiawatha, opened his mouth as if he was about to snarl. hiawatha jumped up saying, "you filthy dog, you have eaten so much that your stomach refuses to hold it. get you gone into some other place." the old wolf, hearing the abuse, went a little to one side to see, and behold, a heap of fresh ruddy meat, with the fat lying all ready prepared. he was followed by hiawatha, who, having the enchantment instantly removed, put on a smiling face. "amazement!" said he; "how fine the meat is." "yes," replied the wolf; "it is always so with us; we know our work, and always get the best. it is not a long tail that makes a hunter." hiawatha bit his lip. they then commenced fixing their winter quarters, while the youngsters went out in search of game, and soon brought in a large supply. one day, during the absence of the young wolves, the old one amused himself in cracking the large bones of a moose. "hiawatha," said he, "cover your head with the robe, and do not look at me while i am at these bones, for a piece may fly in your eye." he did as he was told; but, looking through a rent that was in the robe, he saw what the other was about. just at that moment a piece flew off and hit him on the eye. he cried out, "tyau, why do you strike me, you old dog?" the wolf said, "you must have been looking at me." but deception commonly leads to falsehood. "no, no," he said, "why should i want to look at you?" "hiawatha," said the wolf, "you _must_ have been looking, or you would not have been hurt." "no, no," he replied again, "i was not. i will repay the saucy wolf this," thought he to himself. so, next day, taking up a bone to obtain the marrow, he said to the wolf, "cover your head and don't look at me, for i fear a piece may fly in your eye." the wolf did so. he then took the leg-bone of the moose, and looking first to see if the wolf was well covered, he hit him a blow with all his might. the wolf jumped up, cried out, and fell prostrate from the effects of the blow. "why," said he, "do you strike me so?" "strike you!" he replied; "no, you must have been looking at me." "no," answered the wolf, "i say i have not." but he persisted in the assertion, and the poor magician had to give up. hiawatha was an expert hunter when he earnestly tried to be. he went out one day and killed a fat moose. he was very hungry, and sat down to eat. but immediately he fell into great doubts as to the proper point to begin. "well," said he, "i do not know where to begin. at the head? no! people will laugh, and say 'he ate him backwards!'" he went to the side. "no!" said he, "they will say i ate him sideways." he then went to the hind-quarter. "no!" said he, "they will say i ate him toward the head. i will begin _here_, say what they will." he took a delicate piece from the rump, and was just ready to put it in his mouth, when a tree close by made a creaking sound, caused by the rubbing of one large branch against another. this annoyed him. "why!" he exclaimed, "i cannot eat while i hear such a noise. stop! stop!" said he to the tree. he was putting the morsel again to his mouth, when the noise was repeated. he put it down, exclaiming, "i _cannot eat_ in such confusion," and immediately left the meat, although very hungry, to go and put a stop to the racket. he climbed the tree and was pulling at the limb, when his arm was caught between two branches so that he could not extricate himself. while thus held fast, he saw a pack of wolves coming in the direction towards his meat. "go that way! go that way!" he cried out; "why do you come here?" the wolves talked among themselves and said, "hiawatha must have something here, or he would not tell us to go another way." "i begin to know him," said an old wolf, "and all his tricks. let us go forward and see." they came on and finding the moose, soon made away with the whole carcass. hiawatha looked on wistfully to see them eat till they were fully satisfied, and they left him nothing but the bare bones. the next heavy blast of wind opened the branches and liberated him. he went home, thinking to himself, "see the effect of meddling with frivolous things when i already had valuable possessions." next day the old wolf addressed him thus: "my brother, i am going to separate from you, but i will leave behind me one of the young wolves to be your hunter." he then departed. in this act hiawatha was disenchanted, and again resumed his mortal shape. he was sorrowful and dejected, but soon resumed his wonted air of cheerfulness. the young wolf that was left with him was a good hunter, and never failed to keep the lodge well supplied with meat. one day he addressed him as follows: "my grandson, i had a dream last night, and it does not portend good. it is of the large lake which lies in _that_ direction. you must be careful never to cross it, even if the ice should appear good. if you should come to it at night weary or hungry, you must make the circuit of it." spring commenced, and the snow was melting fast before the rays of the sun, when one evening the wolf came to the lake weary with the day's chase. he disliked the journey of making its circuit. "hwooh!" he exclaimed, "there can be no great harm in trying the ice, as it appears to be sound. nesho, my grandfather, is over cautious on this point." he had gone but half way across when the ice gave way, and falling in, he was immediately seized by the serpents, who knowing he was hiawatha's grandson, were thirsting for revenge upon him. meanwhile hiawatha sat pensively in his lodge. night came on, but no grandson returned. the second and third night passed, but he did not appear. hiawatha became very desolate and sorrowful. "ah!" said he, "he must have disobeyed me, and has lost his life in that lake i told him of. well!" said he at last, "i must mourn for him." so he took coal and blackened his face. but he was much perplexed as to the right mode of mourning. "i wonder," said he, "how i must do it? i will cry 'oh! my grandson! oh! my grandson!'" he burst out laughing. "no! no! that won't do. i will try 'oh! my heart! oh! my heart! ha! ha! ha!' that won't do either. i will cry, 'oh my drowned grandson.'" this satisfied him, and he remained in his lodge and fasted, till his days of mourning were over. "now," said he, "i will go in search of him." he set out and traveled till he came to the great lake. he then raised the lamentation for his grandson which had pleased him, sitting down near a small brook that emptied itself into the lake, and repeating his cries. soon a bird called ke-ske-mun-i-see came near to him. the bird inquired, "what are you doing here?" "nothing," hiawatha replied; "but can you tell me whether any one lives in this lake, and what brings you here yourself?" "yes!" responded the bird; "the prince of serpents lives here, and i am watching to see whether the body of hiawatha's grandson will not drift ashore, for he was killed by the serpents last spring. but are you not hiawatha himself?" "no," was the reply, with his usual deceit; "how do you think _he_ could get to this place? but tell me, do the serpents ever appear? when? where? tell me all about their habits." "do you see that beautiful white sandy beach?" said the bird. "yes!" he answered. "it is there," continued the bird, "that they bask in the sun. before they come out, the lake will appear perfectly calm; not even a ripple will appear. after midday you will see them." "thank you," he replied; "i am hiawatha. i have come in search of the body of my grandson, and to seek my revenge. come near me that i may put a medal round your neck as a reward for your information." the bird unsuspectingly came near, and received a white medal, which can be seen to this day. while bestowing the medal, he attempted slyly to wring the bird's head off, but it escaped him, with only a disturbance of the crown feathers of its head, which are rumpled backward. he had found out all he wanted to know, and then desired to conceal the knowledge obtained by killing his informant. he went to the sandy beach indicated, and transformed himself into an oak stump. he had not been there long before the lake became perfectly calm. soon hundreds of monstrous serpents came crawling on the beach. one of the number was beautifully white. he was the prince. the others were red and yellow. the prince spoke to those about him as follows: "i never saw that black stump standing there before. it may be hiawatha. there is no knowing but that he may be somewhere about here. he has the power of an evil genius, and we should be on our guard against his wiles." one of the large serpents immediately went and twisted himself around it to the top, and pressed it very hard. the greatest pressure happened to be on his throat; he was just ready to cry out when the serpent let go. eight of them went in succession and did the like, but always let go at the moment he was ready to cry out. "it cannot be he," they said. "he is too great a weak-heart for that." they then coiled themselves in a circle about their prince. it was a long time before they fell asleep. when they did so, hiawatha, took his bow and arrows, and cautiously stepping over the serpents till he came to the prince, drew up his arrow with the full strength of his arm, and shot him in the left side. he then gave a saw-saw-quan and ran off at full speed. the sound uttered by the snakes on seeing their prince mortally wounded, was horrible. they cried, "hiawatha has killed our prince; go in chase of him." meantime he ran over hill and valley, to gain the interior of the country, with all his strength and speed, treading a mile at a step. but his pursuers were also spirits, and he could hear that something was approaching him fast. he made for the highest mountain, and climbed the highest tree on its summit, when, dreadful to behold, the whole lower country was seen to be overflowed, and the water was gaining rapidly on the highlands. he saw it reach to the foot of the mountains, and at length it came up to the foot of the tree, but there was no abatement. the flood rose steadily and perceptibly. he soon felt the lower part of his body to be immersed in it. he addressed the tree; "grandfather, stretch yourself." the tree did so. but the waters still rose. he repeated his request, and was again obeyed. he asked a third time, and was again obeyed; but the tree replied, "it is the last time; i cannot get any higher." the waters continued to rise till they reached up to his chin, at which point they stood, and soon began to abate. hope revived in his heart. he then cast his eyes around the illimitable expanse, and spied a loon. "dive down, my brother," he said to him, "and fetch up some earth, so that i can make a new earth." the bird obeyed, but rose up to the surface a lifeless form. he then saw a muskrat. "dive!" said he, "and if you succeed, you may hereafter live either on land or water, as you please; or i will give you a chain of beautiful little lakes, surrounded with rushes, to inhabit." he dove down, but floated up senseless. he took the body and breathed in his nostrils, which restored him to life. "try again," said he. the muskrat did so. he came up senseless the second time, but clutched a little earth in one of his paws, from which, together with the carcass of the dead loon, he created a new earth as large as the former had been, with all living animals, fowls, and plants. as he was walking to survey the new earth, he heard some one singing. he went to the place, and found a female spirit, in the disguise of an old woman, singing these words, and crying at every pause: "ma nau bo sho, o dó zheem un, ogeem au wun, onis sa waun, hee-ub bub ub bub (crying). dread hiawatha in revenge, for his grandson lost-- has killed the chief--the king." "noko," said he, "what is the matter?" "matter!" said she, "where have you been, that you have not heard how hiawatha shot my son, the prince of serpents, in revenge for the loss of his grandson, and how the earth was overflowed, and created anew? so i brought my son here, that he might kill and destroy the inhabitants, as he did on the former earth. but," she continued, casting a scrutinizing glance, "n'yau! indego hiawatha! hub! ub! ub! ub! oh, i am afraid you are hiawatha!" he burst out into a laugh to quiet her fears. "ha! ha! ha! how can that be? has not the old world perished, and all that was in it?" "impossible! impossible!" "but, noko," he continued, "what do you intend doing with all that cedar cord on your back?" "why," said she, "i am fixing a snare for hiawatha, if he should be on this earth; and, in the mean time, i am looking for herbs to heal my son. i am the only person that can do him any good. he always gets better when i sing: "'hiawatha a ne we guawk, koan dan mau wah, ne we guawk, koan dan mau wah, ne we guawk, it is hiawatha's dart, i try my magic power to withdraw." having found out, by conversation with her, all he wished, he put her to death. he then took off her skin, and assuming this disguise, took the cedar cord on his back, and limped away singing her songs. he completely aped the gait and voice of the old woman. he was met by one who told him to make haste; that the prince was worse. at the lodge, limping and muttering, he took notice that they had his grandson's hide to hang over the door. "oh dogs!" said he; "the evil dogs!" he sat down near the door, and commenced sobbing like an aged woman. one observed, "why don't you attend the sick, and not sit there making such a noise?" he took up the poker and laid it on them, mimicking the voice of the old woman. "dogs that you are! why do you laugh at me? you know very well that i am so sorry that i am nearly out of my head." with that he approached the prince, singing the songs of the old woman, without exciting any suspicion. he saw that his arrow had gone in about one half its length. he pretended to make preparations for extracting it, but only made ready to finish his victim; and giving the dart a sudden thrust, he put a period to the prince's life. he performed this act with the power of a giant, bursting the old woman's skin, and at the same moment rushing through the door, the serpents following him, hissing and crying out, "perfidy! murder! vengeance! it is hiawatha." he immediately transformed himself into a wolf, and ran over the plain with all his speed, aided by his father the west wind. when he got to the mountains he saw a badger. "brother," said he, "make a hole quick, for the serpents are after me." the badger obeyed. they both went in, and the badger threw all the earth backward, so that it filled up the way behind. the serpents came to the badger's burrow, and decided to watch, "we will starve him out," said they; so they continue watching. hiawatha told the badger to make an opening on the other side of the mountain, from which he could go out and hunt, and bring meat in. thus they lived some time. one day the badger came in his way and displeased him. he immediately put him to death, and threw out his carcass, saying, "i don't like you to be getting in my way so often." after living in this confinement for some time alone, he decided to go out. he immediately did so; and after making the circuit of the mountain, came to the corpse of the prince, who had been deserted by the serpents to pursue his destroyer. he went to work and skinned him. he then drew on his skin, in which there were great virtues, took up his war-club, and set out for the place where he first went in the ground. he found the serpents still watching. when they saw the form of their dead prince advancing towards them, fear and dread took hold of them. some fled. those who remained hiawatha killed. those who fled went towards the south. having accomplished the victory over the reptiles, hiawatha returned to his former place of dwelling and married the arrow-maker's daughter. legendary heroes of many countries heroes of greece and rome perseus adapted by mary macgregor i perseus and his mother once upon a time there were two princes who were twins. they lived in a pleasant vale far away in hellas. they had fruitful meadows and vineyards, sheep and oxen, great herds of horses, and all that men could need to make them blest. and yet they were wretched, because they were jealous of each other. from the moment they were born they began to quarrel, and when they grew up, each tried to take away the other's share of the kingdom and keep all for himself. and there came a prophet to one of the hard-hearted princes and said, "because you have risen up against your own family, your own family shall rise up against you. because you have sinned against your kindred, by your kindred shall you be punished. your daughter danæ shall bear a son, and by that son's hands you shall die. so the gods have said, and it shall surely come to pass." at that the hard-hearted prince was very much afraid, but he did not mend his ways. for when he became king, he shut up his fair daughter danæ in a cavern underground, lined with brass, that no one might come near her. so he fancied himself more cunning than the gods. now it came to pass that in time danæ bore a son, so beautiful a babe that any but the king would have had pity on it. but he had no pity, for he took danæ and her babe down to the seashore, and put them into a great chest and thrust them out to sea, that the winds and the waves might carry them whithersoever they would. and away and out to sea before the northwest wind floated the mother and her babe, while all who watched them wept, save that cruel king. so they floated on and on, and the chest danced up and down upon the billows, and the babe slept in its mother's arms. but the poor mother could not sleep, but watched and wept, and she sang to her babe as they floated. now they are past the last blue headland and in the open sea. there is nothing round them but waves, and the sky and the wind. but the waves are gentle and the sky is clear, and the breeze is tender and low. so a night passed and a day, and a long day it was to danæ, and another night and day beside, till danæ was faint with hunger and weeping, and yet no land appeared. and all the while the babe slept quietly, and at last poor danæ drooped her head and fell asleep likewise, with her cheek against her babe's. after a while she was awakened suddenly, for the chest was jarring and grinding, and the air was full of sound. she looked up, and over her head were mighty cliffs, and around her rocks and breakers and flying flakes of foam. she clasped her hands together and shrieked aloud for help. and when she cried, help met her, for now there came over the rocks a tall and stately man, and looked down wondering upon poor danæ, tossing about in the chest among the waves. he wore a rough cloak, and on his head a broad hat to shade his face, and in his hand he carried a trident, which is a three-pronged fork for spearing fish, and over his shoulder was a casting net. [illustration: so danae was comforted and went home with dictys.] but danæ could see that he was no common man by his height and his walk, and his flowing golden hair and beard, and by the two servants who came behind him carrying baskets for his fish. she had hardly time to look at him, before he had laid aside his trident and leapt down the rocks, and thrown his casting net so surely over danæ and the chest, that he drew it and her and the babe safe upon a ledge of rock. then the fisherman took danæ by the hand and lifted her out of the chest and said, "o beautiful damsel, what strange chance has brought you to this island in so frail a ship? who are you, and whence? surely you are some king's daughter, and this boy belongs to the gods." and as he spoke he pointed to the babe, for its face shone like the morning star. but danæ only held down her head and sobbed out, "tell me to what land i have come, and among what men i have fallen." and he said, "polydectes is king of this isle, and he is my brother. men call me dictys the netter, because i catch the fish of the shore." then danæ fell down at his feet and embraced his knees and cried, "o sir, have pity upon a stranger, whom cruel doom has driven to your land, and let me live in your house as a servant. but treat me honorably, for i was once a king's daughter, and this my boy is of no common race. i will not be a charge to you, or eat the bread of idleness, for i am more skilful in weaving and embroidery than all the maidens of my land." and she was going on, but dictys stopped her and raised her up and said, "my daughter, i am old, and my hairs are growing gray, while i have no children to make my home cheerful. come with me, then, and you shall be a daughter to me and to my wife, and this babe shall be our grandchild." so danæ was comforted and went home with dictys, the good fisherman, and was a daughter to him and to his wife, till fifteen years were past. ii how perseus vowed a rash vow fifteen years were past and gone, and the babe was now grown to be a tall lad and a sailor. his mother called him perseus, but all the people in the isle called him the king of the immortals. for though he was but fifteen, perseus was taller by a head than any man in the island. and he was brave and truthful, and gentle and courteous, for good old dictys had trained him well, and well it was for perseus that he had done so. for now danæ and her son fell into great danger, and perseus had need of all his strength to defend his mother and himself. polydectes, the king of the island, was not a good man like his brother dictys, but he was greedy and cunning and cruel. and when he saw fair danæ, he wanted to marry her. but she would not, for she did not love him, and cared for no one but her boy. at last polydectes became furious, and while perseus was away at sea, he took poor danæ away from dictys, saying, "if you will not be my wife, you shall be my slave." so danæ was made a slave, and had to fetch water from the well, and grind in the mill. but perseus was far away over the seas, little thinking that his mother was in great grief and sorrow. now one day, while the ship was lading, perseus wandered into a pleasant wood to get out of the sun, and sat down on the turf and fell asleep. and as he slept a strange dream came to him, the strangest dream he had ever had in his life. there came a lady to him through the wood, taller than he, or any mortal man, but beautiful exceedingly, with great gray eyes, clear and piercing, but strangely soft and mild. on her head was a helmet, and in her hand a spear. and over her shoulder, above her long blue robes, hung a goat-skin, which bore up a mighty shield of brass, polished like a mirror. she stood and looked at him with her clear gray eyes. and perseus dropped his eyes, trembling and blushing, as the wonderful lady spoke. "perseus, you must do an errand for me." "who are you, lady? and how do you know my name?" then the strange lady, whose name was athene, laughed, and held up her brazen shield, and cried, "see here, perseus, dare you face such a monster as this and slay it, that i may place its head upon this shield?" and in the mirror of the shield there appeared a face, and as perseus looked on it his blood ran cold. it was the face of a beautiful woman, but her cheeks were pale, and her lips were thin. instead of hair, vipers wreathed about her temples and shot out their forked tongues, and she had claws of brass. perseus looked awhile and then said, "if there is anything so fierce and ugly on earth, it were a noble deed to kill it. where can i find the monster?" then the strange lady smiled again and said, "you are too young, for this is medusa the gorgon. return to your home, and when you have done the work that awaits you there, you may be worthy to go in search of the monster." perseus would have spoken, but the strange lady vanished, and he awoke, and behold it was a dream. so he returned home, and the first thing he heard was that his mother was a slave in the house of polydectes. grinding his teeth with rage, he went out, and away to the king's palace, and through the men's rooms and the women's rooms, and so through all the house, till he found his mother sitting on the floor turning the stone hand-mill, and weeping as she turned it. and he lifted her up and kissed her, and bade her follow him forth. but before they could pass out of the room polydectes came in. when perseus saw the king, he flew upon him and cried, "tyrant! is this thy mercy to strangers and widows? thou shalt die." and because he had no sword he caught up the stone hand-mill, and lifted it to dash out polydectes's brains. but his mother clung to him, shrieking, and good dictys too entreated him to remember that the cruel king was his brother. then perseus lowered his hand, and polydectes, who had been trembling all this while like a coward, let perseus and his mother pass. so perseus took his mother to the temple of athené, and there the priestess made her one of the temple sweepers. and there they knew that she would be safe, for not even polydectes would dare to drag her out of the temple. and there perseus and the good dictys and his wife came to visit her every day. as for polydectes, not being able to get danæ by force, he cast about how he might get her by cunning. he was sure he could never get back danæ as long as perseus was in the island, so he made a plot to get rid of him. first he pretended to have forgiven perseus, and to have forgotten danæ, so that for a while all went smoothly. next he proclaimed a great feast and invited to it all the chiefs and the young men of the island, and among them perseus, that they might all do him homage as their king, and eat of his banquet in his hall. on the appointed day they all came, and as the custom was then, each guest brought with him a present for the king. one brought a horse, another a shawl, or a ring, or a sword, and some brought baskets of grapes, but perseus brought nothing, for he had nothing to bring, being only a poor sailor lad. he was ashamed, however, to go into the king's presence without a gift. so he stood at the door, sorrowfully watching the rich men go in, and his face grew very red as they pointed at him and smiled and whispered, "and what has perseus to give?" perseus blushed and stammered, while all the proud men round laughed and mocked, till the lad grew mad with shame, and hardly knowing what he said, cried out: "a present! see if i do not bring a nobler one than all of yours together!" "hear the boaster! what is the present to be?" cried they all, laughing louder than ever. then perseus remembered his strange dream, and he cried aloud, "the head of medusa the gorgon!" he was half afraid after he had said the words, for all laughed louder than ever, and polydectes loudest of all, while he said: "you have promised to bring me the gorgon's head. then never appear again in this island without it. go!" perseus saw that he had fallen into a trap, but he went out without a word. down to the cliffs he went, and looked across the broad blue sea, and wondered if his dream were true. "athene, was my dream true? shall i slay the gorgon?" he prayed. "rashly and angrily i promised, but wisely and patiently will i perform." but there was no answer nor sign, not even a cloud in the sky. three times perseus called, weeping, "rashly and angrily i promised, but wisely and patiently will i perform." then he saw afar off a small white cloud, as bright as silver. and as it touched the cliffs, it broke and parted, and within it appeared athene, and beside her a young man, whose eyes were like sparks of fire. and they came swiftly towards perseus, and he fell down and worshiped, for he knew they were more than mortal. but athene spoke gently to him and bade him have no fear. "perseus," she said, "you have braved polydectes, and done manfully. dare you brave medusa the gorgon?" perseus answered, "try me, for since you spoke to me, new courage has come into my soul." and athene said, "perseus, this deed requires a seven years' journey, in which you cannot turn back nor escape. if your heart fails, you must die, and no man will ever find your bones." and perseus said, "tell me, o fair and wise athene, how i can do but this one thing, and then, if need be, die." then athene smiled and said, "be patient and listen. you must go northward till you find the three gray sisters, who have but one eye and one tooth amongst them. ask them the way to the daughters of the evening star, for they will tell you the way to the gorgon, that you may slay her. but beware! for her eyes are so terrible that whosoever looks on them is turned to stone." "how am i to escape her eyes?" said perseus; "will she not freeze me too?" "you shall take this polished shield," said athene, "and look, not at her herself, but at her image in the shield, so you may strike her safely. and when you have struck off her head, wrap it, with your face turned away, in the folds of the goat-skin on which the shield hangs. so you bring it safely back to me and win yourself renown and a place among heroes." then said perseus, "i will go, though i die in going. but how shall i cross the seas without a ship? and who will show me the way? and how shall i slay her, if her scales be iron and brass?" but the young man who was with athene spoke, "these sandals of mine will bear you across the seas, and over hill and dale like a bird, as they bear me all day long. the sandals themselves will guide you on the road, for they are divine and cannot stray, and this sword itself will kill her, for it is divine and needs no second stroke. arise and gird them on, and go forth." so perseus arose, and girded on the sandals and the sword. and athene cried, "now leap from the cliff and be gone!" then perseus looked down the cliff and shuddered, but he was ashamed to show his dread, and he leaped into the empty air. and behold! instead of falling, he floated, and stood, and ran along the sky. iii how perseus slew the gorgon so perseus started on his journey, going dryshod over land and sea, and his heart was high and joyful, for the sandals bore him each day a seven days' journey. and at last by the shore of a freezing sea, beneath the cold winter moon, he found the three gray sisters. there was no living thing around them, not a fly, not a moss upon the rocks. they passed their one eye each to the other, but for all that they could not see, and they passed the one tooth from one to the other, but for all that they could not eat, and they sat in the full glare of the moon, but they were none the warmer for her beams. and perseus said, "tell me, o venerable mothers, the path to the daughters of the evening star." they heard his voice, and then one cried, "give me the eye that i may see him," and another, "give me the tooth that i may bite him," but they had no answer for his question. then perseus stepped close to them, and watched as they passed the eye from hand to hand. and as they groped about, he held out his own hand gently, till one of them put the eye into it, fancying that it was the hand of her sister. at that perseus sprang back and laughed and cried, "cruel old women, i have your eye, and i will throw it into the sea, unless you tell me the path to the daughters of the evening star and swear to me that you tell me right." then they wept and chattered and scolded, but all in vain. they were forced to tell the truth, though when they told it, perseus could hardly make out the way. but he gave them back the eye and leaped away to the southward, leaving the snow and ice behind. at last he heard sweet voices singing, and he guessed that he was come to the garden of the daughters of the evening star. when they saw him they trembled and said, "are you come to rob our garden and carry off our golden fruit?" but perseus answered, "i want none of your golden fruit. tell me the way which leads to the gorgon that i may go on my way and slay her." "not yet, not yet, fair boy," they answered, "come dance with us around the trees in the garden." "i cannot dance with you, fair maidens, so tell me the way to the gorgon, lest i wander and perish in the waves." then they sighed and wept, and answered, "the gorgon! she will freeze you into stone." but perseus said, "the gods have lent me weapons, and will give me wisdom to use them." then the fair maidens told him that the gorgon lived on an island far away, but that whoever went near the island must wear the hat of darkness, so that he could not himself be seen. and one of the fair maidens held in her hand the magic hat. while all the maidens kissed perseus and wept over him, he was only impatient to be gone. so at last they put the magic hat upon his head, and he vanished out of their sight. and perseus went on boldly, past many an ugly sight, till he heard the rustle of the gorgons' wings and saw the glitter of their brazen claws. then he knew that it was time to halt, lest medusa should freeze him into stone. he thought awhile with himself and remembered athene's words. then he rose into the air, and held the shield above his head and looked up into it, that he might see all that was below him. and he saw three gorgons sleeping, as huge as elephants. he knew that they could not see him, because the hat of darkness hid him, and yet he trembled as he sank down near them, so terrible were those brazen claws. medusa tossed to and fro restlessly in her sleep. her long neck gleamed so white in the mirror that perseus had not the heart to strike. but as he looked, from among her tresses the vipers' heads awoke and peeped up, with their bright dry eyes, and showed their fangs and hissed. and medusa as she tossed showed her brazen claws, and perseus saw that for all her beauty she was as ugly as the others. then he came down and stepped to her boldly, and looked steadfastly on his mirror, and struck with his sword stoutly once, and he did not need to strike again. he wrapped the head in the goat-skin, turning away his eyes, and sprang into the air aloft, faster than he ever sprang before. and well his brave sandals bore him through cloud and sunshine across the shoreless sea, till he came again to the gardens of the fair maidens. then he asked them, "by what road shall i go homeward again?" and they wept and cried, "go home no more, but stay and play with us, the lonely maidens." but perseus refused and leapt down the mountain, and went on like a sea-gull, away and out to sea. iv how perseus met andromeda so perseus flitted onward to the north-east, over many a league of sea, till he came to the rolling sandhills of the desert. over the sands he went, he never knew how far nor how long, hoping all day to see the blue sparkling mediterranean, that he might fly across it to his home. but now came down a mighty wind, and swept him back southward toward the desert. all day long he strove against it, but even the sandals could not prevail. and when morning came there was nothing to be seen, save the same old hateful waste of sand. at last the gale fell, and he tried to go northward again, but again down came the sandstorms and swept him back into the desert; and then all was calm and cloudless as before. then he cried to athene, "shall i never see my mother more, and the blue ripple of the sea and the sunny hills of hellas?" so he prayed, and after he had prayed there was a great silence. and perseus stood still awhile and waited, and said, "surely i am not here but by the will of the gods, for athené will not lie. were not these sandals to lead me in the right road?" then suddenly his ears were opened and he heard the sound of running water. and perseus laughed for joy, and leapt down the cliff and drank of the cool water, and ate of the dates, and slept on the turf, and leapt up and went forward again, but not toward the north this time. for he said, "surely athene hath sent me hither, and will not have me go homeward yet. what if there be another noble deed to be done before i see the sunny hills of hellas?" so perseus flew along the shore above the sea, and at the dawn of a day he looked towards the cliffs. at the water's edge, under a black rock, he saw a white image stand. "this," thought he, "must surely be the statue of some sea-god. i will go near and see." and he came near, but when he came it was no statue he found, but a maiden of flesh and blood, for he could see her tresses streaming in the breeze. and as he came closer still, he could see how she shrank and shivered when the waves sprinkled her with cold salt spray. her arms were spread above her head and fastened to the rock with chains of brass, and her head drooped either with sleep or weariness or grief. but now and then she looked up and wailed, and called her mother. yet she did not see perseus, for the cap of darkness was on his head. in his heart pity and indignation, perseus drew near and looked upon the maid. her cheeks were darker than his, and her hair was blue-black like a hyacinth. perseus thought, "i have never seen so beautiful a maiden, no, not in all our isles. surely she is a king's daughter. she is too fair, at least, to have done any wrong. i will speak to her," and, lifting the magic hat from his head, he flashed into her sight. she shrieked with terror, but perseus cried, "do not fear me, fair one. what cruel men have bound you? but first i will set you free." and he tore at the fetters, but they were too strong for him, while the maiden cried, "touch me not. i am a victim for the sea-gods. they will slay you if you dare to set me free." "let them try," said perseus, and drawing his sword he cut through the brass as if it had been flax. "now," he said, "you belong to me, and not to these sea-gods, whosoever they may be." but she only called the more on her mother. then he clasped her in his arms, and cried, "where are these sea-gods, cruel and unjust, who doom fair maids to death? let them measure their strength against mine. but tell me, maiden, who you are, and what dark fate brought you here." and she answered, weeping, "i am the daughter of a king, and my mother is the queen with the beautiful tresses, and they call me andromeda. i stand here to atone for my mother's sin, for she boasted of me once that i was fairer than the queen of the fishes. so she in her wrath sent the sea-floods and wasted all the land. and now i must be devoured by a sea-monster to atone for a sin which i never committed." but perseus laughed and said, "a sea-monster! i have fought with worse than he." andromeda looked up at him, and new hope was kindled in her heart, so proud and fair did he stand, with one hand round her, and in the other the glittering sword. but still she sighed and said, "why will you die, young as you are? go you your way, i must go mine." perseus cried, "not so: i slew the gorgon by the help of the gods, and not without them do i come hither to slay this monster, with that same gorgon's head. yet hide your eyes when i leave you, lest the sight of it freeze you too to stone." but the maiden answered nothing, for she could not believe his words. then suddenly looking up, she pointed to the sea and shrieked, "there he comes with the sunrise as they said. i must die now. oh go!" and she tried to thrust him away. and perseus said, "i go, yet promise me one thing ere i go,--that if i slay this beast you will be my wife and come back with me to my kingdom, for i am a king's son. promise me, and seal it with a kiss." then she lifted up her face and kissed him, and perseus laughed for joy and flew upward, while andromeda crouched trembling on the rock. on came the great sea-monster, lazily breasting the ripple and stopping at times by creek or headland. his great sides were fringed with clustering shells and seaweeds, and the water gurgled in and out of his wide jaws as he rolled along. at last he saw andromeda and shot forward to take his prey. then down from the height of the air fell perseus like a shooting star, down to the crests of the waves, while andromeda hid her face as he shouted, and then there was silence for a while. when at last she looked up trembling, andromeda saw perseus springing towards her, and instead of the monster, a long black rock, with the sea rippling quietly round it. who then so proud as perseus, as he leapt back to the rock and lifted his fair andromeda in his arms and flew with her to the cliff-top, as a falcon carries a dove! who so proud as perseus, and who so joyful as the people of the land! and the king and the queen came, and all the people came with songs and dances to receive andromeda back again, as one alive from the dead. then the king said to perseus, "hero of the hellens, stay here with me and be my son-in-law, and i will give you the half of my kingdom." "i will be your son-in-law," said perseus, "but of your kingdom will i have none, for i long after the pleasant land of greece, and my mother who waits for me at home." then said the king, "you must not take my daughter away at once, for she is to us as one alive from the dead. stay with us here a year, and after that you shall return with honor." and perseus consented, but before he went to the palace he bade the people bring stones and wood and build an altar to athené, and there he offered bullocks and rams. then they made a great wedding feast, which lasted seven whole days. but on the eighth night perseus dreamed a dream. he saw standing beside him athené as he had seen her seven long years before, and she stood and called him by name, and said, "perseus, you have played the man, and see, you have your reward. now give me the sword and the sandals, and the hat of darkness, that i may give them back to those to whom they belong. but the gorgon's head you shall keep a while, for you will need it in your land of hellas." and perseus rose to give her the sword, and the cap, and the sandals, but he woke and his dream vanished away. yet it was not altogether a dream, for the goat-skin with the head was in its place, but the sword and the cap and the sandals were gone, and perseus never saw them more. v how perseus came home again when a year was ended, perseus rowed away in a noble galley, and in it he put andromeda and all her dowry of jewels and rich shawls and spices from the east, and great was the weeping when they rowed away. and when perseus reached the land, of hellas he left his galley on the beach, and went up as of old. he embraced his mother and dictys, and they wept over each other, for it was seven years and more since they had parted. then perseus went out and up to the hall of polydectes, and underneath the goat-skin he bore the gorgon's head. when he came to the hall, polydectes sat at the table, and all his nobles on either side, feasting on fish and goats' flesh, and drinking blood-red wine. perseus stood upon the threshold and called to the king by name. but none of the guests knew the stranger, for he was changed by his long journey. he had gone out a boy, and he was come home a hero. but polydectes the wicked, knew him, and scornfully he called, "ah, foundling! have you found it more easy to promise than to fulfil?" "those whom the gods help fulfil their promises," said perseus, as he drew back the goat-skin and held aloft the gorgon's head, saying, "behold!" pale grew polydectes and his guests as they looked upon that dreadful face. they tried to rise from their seats, but from their seats they never rose, but stiffened, each man where he sat, into a ring of cold gray stones. then perseus turned and left them, and went down to his galley in the bay. he gave the kingdom to good dictys, and sailed away with his mother and his bride. and perseus rowed westward till he came to his old home, and there he found that his grandfather had fled. the heart of perseus yearned after his grandfather, and he said, "surely he will love me now that i am come home with honor. i will go and find him and bring him back, and we will reign together in peace." so perseus sailed away, and at last he came to the land where his grandfather dwelt, and all the people were in the fields, and there was feasting and all kinds of games. then perseus did not tell his name, but went up to the games unknown, for he said, "if i carry away the prize in the games, my grandfather's heart will be softened towards me." and when the games began, perseus was the best of all at running and leaping, and wrestling and throwing. and he won four crowns and took them. then he said to himself, "there is a fifth crown to be won. i will win that also, and lay them all upon the knees of my grandfather." so he took the stones and hurled them five fathoms beyond all the rest. and the people shouted, "there has never been such a hurler in this land!" again perseus put out all his strength and hurled. but a gust of wind came from the sea and carried the quoit aside, far beyond all the rest. and it fell on the foot of his grandfather, and he swooned away with the pain. perseus shrieked and ran up to him, but when they lifted the old man up, he was dead. then perseus rent his clothes and cast dust on his head, and wept a long while for his grandfather. at last he rose and called to all people aloud and said, "the gods are true: what they have ordained must be; i am perseus the grandson of this dead man." then he told them how a prophet had said that he should kill his grandfather. so they made great mourning for the old king, and burnt him on a right rich pile. and perseus went to the temple and was purified from the guilt of his death, because he had done it unknowingly. then he went home and reigned well with andromeda, and they had four sons and three daughters. and when they died, the ancients say that athené took them up to the sky. all night long perseus and andromeda shine as a beacon for wandering sailors, but all day long they feast with the gods, on the still blue peaks in the home of the immortals. odysseus adapted by jeanie lang i how odysseus left troyland and sailed for his kingdom past the land of the lotus eaters in the days of long ago there reigned over ithaca, a rugged little island in the sea to the west of greece, a king whose name was odysseus. odysseus feared no man. stronger and braver than other men was he, wiser, and more full of clever devices. far and wide he was known as odysseus of the many counsels. wise, also, was his queen, penelope, and she was as fair as she was wise, and as good as she was fair. while their only child, a boy named telemachus, was still a baby, there was a very great war in troyland, a country far across the sea. the brother of the overlord of all greece beseiged troy, and the kings and princes of his land came to help him. many came from afar, but none from a more distant kingdom than odysseus. wife and child and old father he left behind him and sailed away with his black-prowed ships to fight in troyland. for ten years the siege of troy went on, and of the heroes who fought there, none was braver than odysseus. clad as a beggar he went into the city and found out much to help the greek armies. with his long sword he fought his way out again, and left many of the men of troy lying dead behind him. and many other brave feats did odysseus do. after long years of fighting, troy at last was taken. with much rich plunder the besiegers sailed homewards, and odysseus set sail for his rocky island, with its great mountain, and its forests of trembling leaves. of gladness and of longing his heart was full. with a great love he loved his fair wife and little son and old father, and his little kingdom by the sea was very dear to him. "i can see nought beside sweeter than a man's own country," he said. very soon he hoped to see his dear land again, but many a long and weary day was to pass ere odysseus came home. odysseus was a warrior, and always he would choose to fight rather than to be at peace. as he sailed on his homeward way, winds drove his ships near the shore. he and his company landed, sacked the nearest city, and slew the people. much rich plunder they took, but ere they could return to their ships, a host of people came from inland. in the early morning, thick as leaves and flowers in the spring they came, and fell upon odysseus and his men. all day they fought, but as the sun went down the people of the land won the fight. back to their ships went odysseus and his men. out of each ship were six men slain. while they were yet sad at heart and weary from the fight, a terrible tempest arose. land and sea were blotted out, the ships were driven headlong, and their sails were torn to shreds by the might of the storm. for two days and two nights the ships were at the mercy of the tempests. at dawn on the third day, the storm passed away, and odysseus and his men set up their masts and hoisted their white sails, and drove homeward before the wind. so he would have come safely to his own country, but a strong current and a fierce north wind swept the ships from their course. for nine days were they driven far from their homeland, across the deep sea. on the tenth day they reached the land of the lotus eaters. the dwellers in that land fed on the honey-sweet fruit of the lotus flower. those who ate the lotus ceased to remember that there was a past or a future. all duties they forgot, and all sadness. all day long they would sit and dream and dream idle, happy dreams that never ended. here odysseus and his men landed and drew water. three of his warriors odysseus sent into the country to see what manner of men dwelt there. to them the lotus eaters gave their honey-sweet food, and no sooner had each man eaten than he had no wish ever to return to the ships. he longed for ever to stay in that pleasant land, eating the lotus fruit, and dreaming the happy hours away. back to the ships odysseus dragged the unwilling men, weeping that they must leave so much joy behind. beneath the benches of his ship he tightly bound them, and swiftly he made his ships sail from the shore, lest yet others of his company might eat of the lotus and forget their homes and their kindred. soon they had all embarked, and, with heavy hearts, the men of ithaca smote the gray sea-water with their long oars, and sped away from the land of forgetfulness and of sweet day-dreams. ii how odysseus came to the land of the cyclÔpes, and his adventures there on and on across the waves sailed the dark-prowed ships of odysseus, until again they came to land. it was the land of the cyclôpes, a savage and lawless people, who never planted, nor plowed, nor sowed, and whose fields yet gave them rich harvests of wheat and of barley, and vines with heavy clusters of grapes. in deep caves, high up on the hills, these people dwelt, and each man ruled his own wife and children, but himself knew no ruler. outside the harbor of the land of the cyclôpes lay a thickly wooded island. no hunters went there, for the cyclôpes owned neither ships nor boats, so that many goats roamed unharmed through the woods and cropped the fresh green grass. it was a green and pleasant land. rich meadows stretched down to the sea, the vines grew strong and fruitful, and there was a fair harbor where ships might be run right on to the beach. at the head of the harbor was a well of clear water flowing out of a cave, and with poplars growing around it. thither odysseus directed his ships. it was dark night, with no moon to guide, and mist lay deep on either side, yet they passed the breakers and rolling surf without knowing it, and anchored safely on the beach. all night they slept, and when rosy dawn came they explored the island and slew with their bows and long spears many of the wild goats of the woods. all the livelong day odysseus and his men sat and feasted. as they ate and drank, they looked across the water at the land of the cyclôpes, where the smoke of wood fires curled up to the sky, and from whence they could hear the sound of men's voices and the bleating of sheep and goats. when darkness fell, they lay down to sleep on the sea-beach, and when morning dawned odysseus called his men together and said to them: "stay here, all the rest of you, my dear companions, but i will go with my own ship and my ship's company and see what kind of men are those who dwell in this land across the harbor." so saying, he climbed into his ship, and his men rowed him across to the land of the cyclôpes. when they were near the shore they saw a great cave by the sea. it was roofed in with green laurel boughs and seemed to be meant for a fold to shelter sheep and goats. round about it a high outer wall was firmly built with stones, and with tall and leafy pines and oak-trees. in this cave, all alone with his flocks and herds, dwelt a huge and hideous one-eyed giant. polyphemus was his name, and his father was poseidon, god of the sea. taking twelve of his best men with him, odysseus left the others to guard the ship and sallied forth to the giant's cave. with him he carried a goat-skin full of precious wine, dark red, and sweet and strong, and a large sack of corn. soon they came to the cave, but polyphemus was not there. he had taken off his flocks to graze in the green meadows, leaving behind him in the cave folds full of lambs and kids. the walls of the cave were lined with cheeses, and there were great pans full of whey, and giant bowls full of milk. "let us first of all take the cheeses," said the men of odysseus to their king, "and carry them to the ships. then let us return and drive all the kids and lambs from their folds down to the shore, and sail with them in our swift ships homeward over the sea." but odysseus would not listen to what they said. he was too great hearted to steal into the cave like a thief and take away the giant's goods without first seeing whether polyphemus might not treat him as a friend, receiving from him the corn and wine he had brought, and giving him gifts in return. so they kindled a fire, and dined on some of the cheeses, and sat waiting for the giant to return. towards evening he came, driving his flocks before him, and carrying on his back a huge load of firewood, which he cast down on the floor with such a thunderous noise that odysseus and his men fled in fear and hid themselves in the darkest corners of the cave. when he had driven his sheep inside, polyphemus lifted from the ground a rock so huge that two-and-twenty four-wheeled wagons could not have borne it, and with it blocked the doorway. then, sitting down, he milked the ewes and bleating goats, and placed the lambs and kids each beside its own mother. half of the milk he curdled and placed in wicker baskets to make into cheeses, and the other half he left in great pails to drink when he should have supper. when all this was done, he kindled a fire, and when the flames had lit up the dark-walled cave he spied odysseus and his men. "strangers, who are ye?" he asked, in his great, rumbling voice. "whence sail ye over the watery ways? are ye merchants? or are ye sea-robbers who rove over the sea, risking your own lives and bringing evil to other men?" the sound of the giant's voice, and his hideous face filled the hearts of the men with terror, but odysseus made answer: "from troy we come, seeking our home, but driven hither by winds and waves. men of agamemnon, the renowned and most mightily victorious greek general, are we, yet to thee we come and humbly beg for friendship." at this the giant, who had nothing but cruelty in his heart, mocked at odysseus. "thou art a fool," said he, "and i shall not spare either thee or thy company. but tell me where thou didst leave thy good ship? was it near here, or at the far end of the island?" but odysseus of the many counsels knew that the giant asked the question only to bring evil on the men who stayed by the ship, and so he answered: "my ship was broken in pieces by the storm and cast up on the rocks on the shore, but i, with these my men, escaped from death." not one word said polyphemus in reply, but sprang up, clutched hold of two of the men, and dashed their brains out on the stone floor. then he cut them up, and made ready his supper, eating the two men, bones and all, as if he had been a starving lion, and taking great draughts of the milk from the giant pails. when his meal was done, he stretched himself on the ground beside his sheep and goats, and slept. in helpless horror odysseus and his men had watched the dreadful sight, but when the monster slept they began to make plans for their escape. at first odysseus thought it might be best to take his sharp sword and stab polyphemus in the breast. but then he knew that even were he thus to slay the giant, he and his men must die. for strength was not left them to roll away the rock from the cave's mouth, and so they must perish like rats in a trap. all night they thought what they should do, but could think of nought that would avail, and so they could only moan in their bitterness of heart and wait for the dawn. when dawn's rosy fingers touched the sky, polyphemus awoke. he kindled a fire, and milked his flocks, and gave each ewe her lamb. when this work was done he snatched yet other two men, dashed their brains out, and made of them his morning meal. after the meal, he lifted the stone from the door, drove the flocks out, and set the stone back again. then, with a loud shout, he turned his sheep and goats towards the hills and left odysseus and his remaining eight men imprisoned in the cave, plotting and planning how to get away, and how to avenge the death of their comrades. at last odysseus thought of a plan. by the sheepfold there lay a huge club of green olive wood that polyphemus had cut and was keeping until it should be dry enough to use as a staff. so huge was it that odysseus and his men likened it to the mast of a great merchant vessel. from this club odysseus cut a large piece and gave it to his men to fine down and make even. while they did this, odysseus himself sharpened it to a point and hardened the point in the fire. when it was ready, they hid it amongst the rubbish on the floor of the cave. then odysseus made his men draw lots who should help him to lift this bar and drive it into the eye of the giant as he slept, and the lot fell upon the four men that odysseus would himself have chosen. in the evening polyphemus came down from the hills with his flocks and drove them all inside the cave. then he lifted the great doorstone and blocked the doorway, milked the ewes and goats, and gave each lamb and kid to its mother. this done, he seized other two of the men, dashed out their brains, and made ready his supper. from the shadows of the cave odysseus now stepped forward, bearing in his hands an ivy bowl, full of the dark red wine. "drink wine after thy feast of men's flesh," said odysseus, "and see what manner of drink this was that our ship held." polyphemus grasped the bowl, gulped down the strong wine, and smacked his great lips over its sweetness. "give me more," he cried, "and tell me thy name straightway, that i may give thee a gift. mighty clusters of grapes do the vines of our land bear for us, but this is a rill of very nectar and ambrosia." again odysseus gave him the bowl full of wine, and yet again, until the strong wine went to the giant's head and made him stupid. then said odysseus: "thou didst ask me my name, and didst say that thou wouldst give me a gift. noman is my name, and noman they call me, my father and mother and all my fellows." then answered the giant out of his pitiless heart: "i will eat thy fellows first, noman, and thee the last of all. that shall be thy gift." soon the wine made him so sleepy that he sank backwards with his great face upturned and fell fast asleep. as soon as the giant slept, odysseus thrust into the fire the stake he had prepared, and made it red hot, all the while speaking cheerfully and comfortingly to his men. when it was so hot that the wood, green though it was, began to blaze, they drew it out and thrust it into the giant's eye. round and round they whirled the fiery pike, as a man bores a hole in a plank, until the blood gushed out, and the eye frizzled and hissed, and the flames singed and burned the eyelids, and the eye was burned out. with a great and terrible cry the giant sprang to his feet, and odysseus and the others fled from before him. from his eye he dragged the blazing pike, all dripping with his blood, and dashed it to the ground. then, maddened with pain, he called with a great and terrible cry on the other cyclôpes, who dwelt in their caves on the hill-tops round which the wind swept. the giants, hearing his horrid yells, rushed to help him. "what ails thee, polyphemus?" they asked. "why dost thou cry aloud in the night and awake us from our sleep? surely no one stealeth thy flocks? none slayeth thee by force or by craft." from the other side of the great stone moaned polyphemus: "noman is slaying me by craft." then the cyclôpes said: "if no man is hurting thee, then indeed it must be a sickness that makes thee cry so loud, and this thou must bear, for we cannot help." with that they strode away from the cave and left the blind giant groaning and raging with pain. groping with his hands, he found the great stone that blocked the door, lifted it away, and sat himself down in the mouth of the cave, with his arms stretched out, hoping to catch odysseus and his men if they should try to escape. sitting there, he fell asleep, and, as soon as he slept, odysseus planned and plotted how best to win freedom. the rams of the giant's flocks were great strong beasts, with fleeces thick and woolly, and as dark as the violet. with twisted slips of willow odysseus lashed every three of them together, and under the middle ram of each three he bound one of his men. for himself he kept the best ram of the flock, young and strong, and with a fleece wonderfully thick and shaggy. underneath this ram odysseus curled himself, and clung, face upwards, firmly grasping the wool with his hands. in this wise did he and his men wait patiently for the dawn. when rosy dawn came, the ewes in the pens bleated to be milked and the rams hastened out to the hills and green meadows. as each sheep passed him, polyphemus felt along its back, but never guessed that the six remaining men of odysseus were bound beneath the thick-fleeced rams. last of all came the young ram to which odysseus clung, moving slowly, for his fleece was heavy, and odysseus whom he bore was heavier still. on the ram's back polyphemus laid his great hands. "dear ram," said he, "once wert thou the very first to lead the flocks from the cave, the first to nibble the tender buds of the pasture, the first to find out the running streams, and the first to come home when evening fell. but to-day thou art the very last to go. surely thou art sorrowful because the wicked noman hath destroyed my eye. i would thou couldst speak and tell me where noman is hidden. then should i seize him and gladly dash out his brains on the floor of the cave." very, very still lay odysseus while the giant spoke, but the ram slowly walked on past the savage giant, towards the meadows near the sea. soon it was far enough from the cave for odysseus to let go his hold and to stand up. quickly he loosened the bonds of the others, and swiftly then they drove the rams down to the shore where their ship lay. often they looked round, expecting to see polyphemus following them, but they safely reached the ship and got a glad welcome from their friends, who rejoiced over them, but would have wept over the men that the cannibal giant had slain. "there is no time to weep," said odysseus, and he made his men hasten on board the ship, driving the sheep before them. soon they were all on board, and the gray sea-water was rushing off their oars, as they sailed away from the land of the cyclôpes. but before they were out of sight of land, the bold odysseus lifted up his voice and shouted across the water: "hear me, polyphemus, thou cruel monster! thine evil deeds were very sure to find thee out. thou hast been punished because thou hadst no shame to eat the strangers who came to thee as thy guests!" the voice of odysseus rang across the waves, and reached polyphemus as he sat in pain at the mouth of his cave. in a fury the giant sprang up, broke off the peak of a great hill and cast it into the sea, where it fell just in front of the ship of odysseus. so huge a splash did the vast rock give, that the sea heaved up and the backwash of the water drove the ship right to the shore. odysseus snatched up a long pole and pushed the ship off once more. silently he motioned to the men to row hard, and save themselves and their ship from the angry giant. when they were once more out at sea, odysseus wished again to mock polyphemus. in vain his men begged him not to provoke a monster so mighty that he could crush their heads and the timbers of their ship with one cast of a stone. once more odysseus shouted across the water: "polyphemus, if any one shall ask thee who blinded thee, tell them it was odysseus of ithaca." then moaned the giant: "once, long ago, a soothsayer told me that odysseus should make me blind. but ever i looked for the coming of a great and gallant hero, and now there hath come a poor feeble, little dwarf, who made me weak with wine before he dared to touch me." then he begged odysseus to come back, and said he would treat him kindly, and told him that he knew that his own father, the god of the sea, would give him his sight again. "never more wilt thou have thy sight," mocked odysseus; "thy father will never heal thee." then polyphemus, stretching out his hands, and looking up with his sightless eye to the starry sky, called aloud to poseidon, god of the sea, to punish odysseus. "if he ever reaches his own country," he cried, "let him come late and in an evil case, with all his own company lost, and in the ship of strangers, and let him find sorrows in his own house." no answer came from poseidon, but the god of the sea heard his son's prayer. with all his mighty force polyphemus then cast at the ship a rock far greater than the first. it all but struck the end of the rudder, but the huge waves that surged up from it bore on the ship, and carried it to the further shore. there they found the men with the other ships waiting in sorrow and dread, for they feared that the giants had killed odysseus and his company. gladly they drove the rams of polyphemus on to the land, and there feasted together until the sun went down. all night they slept on the sea beach, and at rosy dawn odysseus called to his men to get into their ships and loose the hawsers. soon they had pushed off, and were thrusting their oars into the gray sea-water. their hearts were sore, because they had lost six gallant men of their company, yet they were glad as men saved from death. iii how odysseus met with circe, the sirens, and calypso across the seas sailed odysseus and his men till they came to an island where lived Æolus the keeper of the winds. when odysseus again set sail, Æolus gave him a great leather bag in which he had placed all the winds except the wind of the west. his men thought the bag to be full of gold and silver, so, while odysseus slept they loosened the silver thong, and, with a mighty gust all the winds rushed out driving the ship far away from their homeland. ere long they reached another island, where dwelt a great enchantress, circe of the golden tresses, whose palace eurylochus discovered. within they heard circe singing, so they called to her and she came forth and bade them enter. heedlessly they followed her, all but eurylochus. then circe smote them with her magic wand and they were turned into swine. when odysseus heard what had befallen his men he was very angry and would have slain her with his sword. but circe cried: "sheathe thy sword, i pray thee, odysseus, and let us be at peace." then said odysseus: "how can i be at peace with thee, circe? how can i trust thee?" then circe promised to do odysseus no harm, and to let him return in safety to his home. then she opened the doors of the sty and waved her wand. and the swine became men again even handsomer and stronger than before. for a whole year odysseus and his men stayed in the palace, feasting and resting. when they at last set sail again the sorceress told odysseus of many dangers he would meet on his homeward voyage, and warned him how to escape from them. in an island in the blue sea through which the ship of odysseus would sail toward home, lived some beautiful mermaids called sirens. even more beautiful than the sirens' faces were their lovely voices by which they lured men to go on shore and there slew them. in the flowery meadows were the bones of the foolish sailors who had seen only the lovely faces and long, golden hair of the sirens, and had lost their hearts to them. against these mermaids circe had warned odysseus, and he repeated her warnings to his men. following her advice he filled the ears of the men with wax and bade them bind him hand and foot to the mast. past the island drove the ship, and the sirens seeing it began their sweet song. "come hither, come hither, brave odysseus," they sang. then odysseus tried to make his men unbind him, but eurylochus and another bound him yet more tightly to the mast. when the island was left behind, the men took the wax from their ears and unbound their captain. after passing the wandering rocks with their terrible sights and sounds the ship came to a place of great peril. beyond them were yet two huge rocks between which the sea swept. one of these ran up to the sky, and in this cliff was a dark cave in which lived scylla a horrible monster, who, as the ship passed seized six of the men with her six dreadful heads. in the cliff opposite lived another terrible creature called charybdis who stirred the sea to a fierce whirlpool. by a strong wind the ship was driven into this whirlpool, but odysseus escaped on a broken piece of wreckage to the shores of an island. on this island lived calypso of the braided tresses, a goddess feared by all men. but, to odysseus she was very kind and he soon became as strong as ever. "stay with me, and thou shalt never grow old and never die," said calypso. a great homesickness had seized odysseus, but no escape came for eight years. then athene begged the gods to help him. they called on hermes, who commanded calypso to let him go. she wanted him to stay with her but promised to send him away. she told him to make a raft which she would furnish with food and clothing for his need. he set out and in eighteen days saw the land of the phæacians appear. but when safety seemed near, poseidon, the sea-god, returned from his wanderings and would have destroyed him had it not been that a fair sea-nymph gave him her veil to wind around his body. this he did and finally reached the shore. iv how odysseus met with nausicaa in the land of the phæacians there dwelt no more beautiful, nor any sweeter maiden, than the king's own daughter. nausicaa was her name, and she was so kind and gentle that every one loved her. to the land of the phæacians the north wind had driven odysseus, and while he lay asleep in his bed of leaves under the olive-trees, the goddess athene went to the room in the palace where nausicaa slept, and spoke to her in her dreams. "some day thou wilt marry, nausicaa," she said, "and it is time for thee to wash all the fair raiment that is one day to be thine. to-morrow thou must ask the king, thy father, for mules and for a wagon, and drive from the city to a place where all the rich clothing may be washed and dried." when morning came nausicaa remembered her dream, and went to tell her father. her mother was sitting spinning yarn of sea-purple stain, and her father was just going to a council meeting. "father, dear," said the princess, "couldst thou lend me a high wagon with strong wheels, that i may take all my fair linen to the river to wash. all yours, too, i shall take, so that thou shalt go to the council in linen that is snowy clean, and i know that my five brothers will also be glad if i wash their fine clothing for them." this she said, for she felt too shy to tell her father what athene had said about her getting married. but the king knew well why she asked. "i do not grudge thee mules, nor anything else, my child," he said. "go, bid the servants prepare a wagon." the servants quickly got ready the finest wagon that the king had, and harnessed the best of the mules. and nausicaa's mother filled a basket with all the dainties that she knew her daughter liked best, so that nausicaa and her maidens might feast together. the fine clothes were piled into the wagon, the basket of food was placed carefully beside them, and nausicaa climbed in, took the whip and shining reins, and touched the mules. then with clatter of hoofs they started. when they were come to the beautiful, clear river, amongst whose reeds odysseus had knelt the day before, they unharnessed the mules and drove them along the banks of the river to graze where the clover grew rich and fragrant. then they washed the clothes, working hard and well, and spread them out to dry on the clean pebbles down by the seashore. then they bathed, and when they had bathed they took their midday meal by the bank of the rippling river. when they had finished, the sun had not yet dried the clothes, so nausicaa and her maidens began to play ball. as they played they sang a song that the girls of that land would always sing as they threw the ball to one another. all the maidens were fair, but nausicaa of the white arms was the fairest of all. from hand to hand they threw the ball, growing always the merrier, until, when it was nearly time for them to gather the clothes together and go home, nausicaa threw it very hard to one of the others. the girl missed the catch. the ball flew into the river, and, as it was swept away to the sea, the princess and all her maidens screamed aloud. their cries awoke odysseus, as he lay asleep in his bed of leaves. "i must be near the houses of men," he said; "those are the cries of girls at play." with that he crept out from the shelter of the olive-trees. he had no clothes, for he had thrown them all into the sea before he began his terrible swim for life. but he broke off some leafy branches and held them round him, and walked down to where nausicaa and her maidens were. like a wild man of the woods he looked, and when they saw him coming the girls shrieked and ran away. some of them hid behind the rocks on the shore, and some ran out to the shoals of yellow sand that jutted into the sea. but although his face was marred with the sea-foam that had crusted on it, and he looked a terrible, fierce, great creature, nausicaa was too brave to run away. shaking she stood there, and watched him as he came forward, and stood still a little way off. then odysseus spoke to her, gently and kindly, that he might take away her fear. he told her of his shipwreck, and begged her to show him the way to the town, and give him some old garment, or any old wrap in which she had brought the linen, so that he might have something besides leaves with which to cover himself. "i have never seen any maiden half so beautiful as thou art," he said. "have pity on me, and may the gods grant thee all thy heart's desire." then said nausicaa: "thou seemest no evil man, stranger, and i will gladly give thee clothing and show thee the way to town. this is the land of the phæacians, and my father is the king." to her maidens then she called: "why do ye run away at the sight of a man? dost thou take him for an enemy? he is only a poor shipwrecked man. come, give him food and drink, and fetch him clothing." the maidens came back from their hiding-places, and fetched some of the garments of nausicaa's brothers which they had brought to wash, and laid them beside odysseus. odysseus gratefully took the clothes away, and went off to the river. there he plunged into the clear water, and washed the salt crust from off his face and limbs and body, and the crusted foam from his hair. then he put on the beautiful garments that belonged to one of the princes, and walked down to the shore where nausicaa and her maidens were waiting. so tall and handsome and strong did odysseus look, with his hair curling like hyacinth flowers around his head, that nausicaa said to her maidens: "this man, who seemed to us so dreadful so short a time ago, now looks like a god. i would that my husband, if ever i have one, should be as he." then she and her maidens brought him food and wine, and he ate hungrily, for it was many days since he had eaten. when he had finished, they packed the linen into the wagon, and yoked the mules, and nausicaa climbed into her place. "so long as we are passing through the fields," she said to odysseus, "follow behind with my maidens, and i will lead the way. but when we come near the town with its high walls and towers, and harbors full of ships, the rough sailors will stare and say, 'hath nausicaa gone to find herself a husband because she scorns the men of phæacia who would wed her? hath she picked up a shipwrecked stranger, or is this one of the gods who has come to make her his wife?' therefore come not with us, i pray thee, for the sailors to jest at. there is a fair poplar grove near the city, with a meadow lying round it. sit there until thou thinkest that we have had time to reach the palace. then seek the palace--any child can show thee the way--and when thou art come to the outer court pass quickly into the room where my mother sits. thou wilt find her weaving yarn of sea-purple stain by the light of the fire. she will be leaning her head back against a pillar, and her maidens will be standing round her. my father's throne is close to hers, but pass him by, and cast thyself at my mother's knees. if she feels kindly towards thee and is sorry for thee, then my father is sure to help thee to get safely back to thine own land." then nausicaa smote her mules with the whip, and they trotted quickly off, and soon left behind them the silver river with its whispering reeds, and the beach with its yellow sand. odysseus and the maidens followed the wagon, and just as the sun was setting they reached the poplar grove in the meadow. there odysseus stayed until nausicaa should have had time to reach the palace. when she got there, she stopped at the gateway, and her brothers came out and lifted down the linen, and unharnessed the mules. nausicaa went up to her room, and her old nurse kindled a fire for her and got ready her supper. when odysseus thought it was time to follow, he went to the city. he marveled at the great walls and at the many gallant ships in the harbors. but when he reached the king's palace, he wondered still more. its walls were of brass, so that from without, when the doors stood open, it looked as if the sun or moon were shining within. a frieze of blue ran round the walls. all the doors were made of gold, the doorposts were of silver, the thresholds of brass, and the hook of the door was of gold. in the halls were golden figures of animals, and of men who held in their hands lighted torches. outside the courtyard was a great garden filled with blossoming pear-trees and pomegranates, and apple-trees with shining fruit, and figs, and olives. all the year round there was fruit in that garden. there were grapes in blossom, and grapes purple and ready to eat, and there were great masses of snowy pear-blossom, and pink apple-blossom, and golden ripe pears, and rosy apples. at all of those wonders odysseus stood and gazed, but it was not for long; for he hastened through the halls to where the queen sat in the firelight, spinning her purple yarn. he fell at her knees, and silence came on all those in the room when they looked at him, so brave and so handsome did he seem. "through many and great troubles have i come hither, queen," said he; "speed, i pray you, my parting right quickly, that i may come to mine own country. too long have i suffered great sorrows far away from my own friends." then he sat down amongst the ashes by the fire, and for a little space no one spoke. at last a wise old courtier said to the king: "truly it is not right that this stranger should sit in the ashes by the fire. bid him arise, and give him meat and drink." at this the king took odysseus by the hand and asked him to rise. he made one of his sons give up his silver inlaid chair, and bade his servants fetch a silver basin and a golden ewer that odysseus might wash his hands. all kinds of dainties to eat and drink he also made them bring, and the lords and the courtiers who were there feasted along with odysseus, until it was time for them to go to their own homes. before they went the king promised odysseus a safe convoy back to his own land. when he was left alone with the king and queen, the latter said to him: "tell us who thou art. i myself made the clothing that thou wearest. from whence didst thou get it?" then odysseus told her of his imprisonment in the island of calypso, of his escape, of the terrible storm that shattered his raft, and of how at length he reached the shore and met with nausicaa. "it was wrong of my daughter not to bring thee to the palace when she came with her maids," said the king. but odysseus told him why it was that nausicaa had bade him stay behind. "be not vexed with this blameless maiden," he said. "truly she is the sweetest and the fairest maiden i ever saw." then odysseus went to the bed that the servants had prepared for him. they had spread fair purple blankets over it, and when it was ready they stood beside it with their torches blazing, golden and red. "up now, stranger, get thee to sleep," said they. "thy bed is made." sleep was very sweet to odysseus that night as he lay in the soft bed with warm blankets over him. he was no longer tossed and beaten by angry seas, no longer wet and cold and hungry. the roar of furious waves did not beat in his ears, for all was still in the great halls where the flickering firelight played on the frieze of blue, and turned the brass walls into gold. next day the king gave a great entertainment for odysseus. there were boxing and wrestling and leaping and running, and in all of these the brothers of nausicaa were better than all others who tried. but when they came to throw the weight, and begged odysseus to try, he cast a stone heavier than all others, far beyond where the phæacians had thrown. that night there was feasting in the royal halls, and the king's minstrels played and sang songs of the taking of troy, and of the bravery of the great odysseus. and odysseus listened until his heart could bear no more, and tears trickled down his cheeks. only the king saw him weep. he wondered much why odysseus wept, and at last he asked him. so odysseus told the king his name, and the whole story of his adventures since he had sailed away from troyland. then the king and queen and their courtiers gave rich gifts to odysseus. a beautiful silver-studded sword was the king's gift to him. nausicaa gave him nothing, but she stood and gazed at him in his purple robes and felt more sure than ever that he was the handsomest and the greatest hero she had ever seen. "farewell, stranger," she said to him when the hour came for her to go to bed, for she knew she would not see him on the morrow. "farewell, stranger. sometimes think of me when thou art in thine own land." then said odysseus: "all the days of my life i shall remember thee, nausicaa, for thou hast given me my life." next day a company of the phæacians went down to a ship that lay by the seashore, and with them went odysseus. they carried the treasures that had been given to him and put them on board, and spread a rug on the deck for him. there odysseus lay down, and as soon as the splash of the oars in the water and the rush and gush of the water from the bow of the boat told him that the ship was sailing speedily to his dear land of ithaca, he fell into a sound sleep. onward went the ship, so swiftly that not even a hawk flying after its prey could have kept pace with her. when the bright morning stars arose, they were close to ithaca. the sailors quickly ran their vessel ashore and gently carried the sleeping odysseus, wrapped round in his rug of bright purple, to where a great olive-tree bent its gray leaves over the sand. they laid him under the tree, put his treasures beside him, and left him, still heavy with slumber. then they climbed into their ship and sailed away. while odysseus slept the goddess athene shed a thick mist round him. when he awoke, the sheltering heavens, the long paths, and the trees in bloom all looked strange to him when seen through the grayness of the mist. "woe is me!" he groaned. "the phæacians promised to bring me to ithaca, but they have brought me to a land of strangers, who will surely attack me and steal my treasures." but while he was wondering what he should do, the goddess athene came to him. she was tall and fair and noble to look upon, and she smiled upon odysseus with her kind gray eyes. under the olive-tree she sat down beside him, and told him all that had happened in ithaca while he was away, and all that he must do to win back his kingdom and his queen. the argonauts adapted by mary macgregor i how the centaur trained the heroes now i have a tale to tell of heroes who sailed away into a distant land, to win themselves renown for ever in the adventures of the golden fleece. and what was the golden fleece? it was the fleece of the wondrous ram who bore a boy called phrixus and a girl called helle across the sea; and the old greeks said that it hung nailed to a beech-tree in the war-god's wood. for when a famine came upon the land, their cruel stepmother wished to kill phrixus and helle, that her own children might reign. she said phrixus and helle must be sacrificed on an altar, to turn away the anger of the gods, who sent the famine. so the poor children were brought to the altar, and the priest stood ready with his knife, when out of the clouds came the golden ram, and took them on his back and vanished. and the ram carried the two children far away, over land and sea, till at a narrow strait helle fell off into the sea, and those narrow straits are called "hellespont" after her, and they bear that name until this day. then the ram flew on with phrixus to the northeast, across the sea which we call the black sea, and at last he stopped at colchis, on the steep sea-coast. and phrixus married the king's daughter there, and offered the ram in sacrifice, and then it was that the ram's fleece was nailed to a beech in the wood of the war-god. after a while phrixus died, but his spirit had no rest, for he was buried far from his native land and the pleasant hills of hellas. so he came in dreams to the heroes of his country, and called sadly by their beds, "come and set my spirit free, that i may go home to my fathers and to my kinsfolk." and they asked, "how shall we set your spirit free?" "you must sail over the sea to colchis, and bring home the golden fleece. then my spirit will come back with it, and i shall sleep with my fathers and have rest." he came thus, and called to them often, but when they woke they looked at each other and said, "who dare sail to colchis or bring home the golden fleece?" and in all the country none was brave enough to try, for the man and the time were not come. now phrixus had a cousin called Æson, who was king in iolcos by the sea. and a fierce and lawless stepbrother drove Æson out of iolcos by the sea, and took the kingdom to himself and ruled over it. when Æson was driven out, he went sadly away out of the town, leading his little son by the hand. and he said to himself, "i must hide the child in the mountains, or my stepbrother will surely kill him because he is the heir." so he went up from the sea, across the valley, through the vineyards and the olive groves, and across the river, toward pelion, the ancient mountain, whose brows are white with snow. he went up and up into the mountain, over marsh, and crag, and down, till the boy was tired and footsore, and Æson had to bear him in his arms till he came to the mouth of a lonely cave, at the foot of a mighty cliff. above the cliff the snow-wreaths hung, dripping and cracking in the sun. but at its foot, around the cave's mouth, grew all fair flowers and herbs, as if in a garden. there they grew gaily in the sunshine and in the spray of the torrent from above, while from the cave came the sound of music, and a man's voice singing to the harp. then Æson put down the lad, and whispered, "fear not, but go in, and whomsoever you shall find, lay your hands upon his knees and say, 'in the name of zeus, the father of gods and men, i am your guest from this day forth.'" so the lad went in without trembling, for he too was a hero's son, but when he was within, he stopped in wonder to listen to that magic song. and there he saw the singer, lying upon bear-skins and fragrant boughs, cheiron the ancient centaur, the wisest of all beneath the sky. down to the waist he was a man, but below he was a noble horse. his white hair rolled down over his broad shoulders, and his white beard over his broad brown chest. his eyes were wise and mild, and his forehead like a mountain-wall. in his hands he held a harp of gold, and he struck it with a golden key. and as he struck, he sang till his eyes glittered and filled all the cave with light. as he sang the boy listened wide-eyed, and forgot his errand in the song. at the last old cheiron was silent, and called the lad with a soft voice. and the lad ran trembling to him, and would have laid his hands upon his knees. but cheiron smiled, and drew the lad to him, and laid his hand upon his golden locks, and said, "are you afraid of my horse's hoofs, fair boy, or will you be my pupil from this day?" "i would gladly have horse's hoofs like you, if i could sing such songs as yours," said the lad. and cheiron laughed and said, "sit here till sundown, when your playfellows will come home, and you shall learn like them to be a king, worthy to rule over gallant men." then he turned to Æson, who had followed his son into the cave, and said, "go back in peace. this boy shall not cross the river again till he has become a glory to you and to your house." and Æson wept over his son and went away, but the boy did not weep, so full was his fancy of that strange cave, and the centaur and his song, and the playfellows whom he was to see. then cheiron put the lyre into his hands, and taught him how to play it, till the sun sank low behind the cliff, and a shout was heard outside. and then in came the sons of the heroes, and great cheiron leapt up joyfully, and his hoofs made the cave resound as the lads shouted, "come out, father cheiron, and see our game!" one cried, "i have killed two deer," and another, "i took a wild cat among the crags," and another shouted, "i have dragged a wild goat by its horns," and another carried under each arm a bear-cub. and cheiron praised them all, each as he deserved. then the lads brought in wood and split it, and lighted a blazing fire. others skinned the deer and quartered them, and set them to roast before the flames. while the venison was cooking, they bathed in the snow-torrent and washed away the dust. and then all ate till they could eat no more, for they had tasted nothing since the dawn, and drank of the clear spring water, for wine is not fit for growing lads. when the remnants of the meal were put away, they all lay down upon the skins and leaves about the fire, and each took the lyre in turn, and sang and played with all his heart. after a while they all went out to a plot of grass at the cave's mouth, and there they boxed and ran and wrestled and laughed till the stones fell from the cliffs. then cheiron took his lyre, and all the lads joined hands, and as he played they danced to his measure, in and out and round and round. there they danced hand in hand, till the night fell over land and sea, while the black glen shone with the gleam of their golden hair. and the lad danced with them, delighted, and then slept a wholesome sleep, upon fragrant leaves of bay and myrtle and flowers of thyme. he rose at the dawn and bathed in the torrent, and became a schoolfellow to the heroes' sons, and forgot iolcos by the sea, and his father and all his former life. but he grew strong and brave and cunning, upon the pleasant downs of pelion, in the keen, hungry mountain-air. and he learned to wrestle, to box and to hunt, and to play upon the harp. next he learned to ride, for old cheiron used to mount him on his back. he learned too the virtue of all herbs, and how to cure all wounds, and cheiron called him jason the healer, and that is his name until this day. ii how jason lost his sandal and ten years came and went, and jason was grown to be a mighty man. now it happened one day that jason stood on the mountain, and looked north and south and east and west. and cheiron stood by him and watched him, for he knew that the time was come. when jason looked south, he saw a pleasant land, with white-walled towns and farms nestling along the shore of a land-locked bay, while the smoke rose blue among the trees, and he knew it for iolcos by the sea. then he sighed and asked, "is it true what the heroes tell me--that i am heir of that fair land?" "and what good would it be to you, jason, if you were heir of that fair land?" "i would take it and keep it." "a strong man has taken it and kept it long. are you stronger than your uncle pelias the terrible?" "i can try my strength with his," said jason. but cheiron sighed and said, "you have many a danger to go through before you rule in iolcos by the sea, many a danger and many a woe, and strange troubles in strange lands, such as man never saw before." "the happier i," said jason, "to see what man never saw before!" cheiron sighed and said, "will you go to iolcos by the sea? then promise me two things before you go! speak harshly to no soul whom you may meet, and stand by the word which you shall speak." jason promised. then he leapt down the mountain, to take his fortune like a man. he went down through the thickets and across the downs of thyme, till he came to the vineyard walls, and the olives in the glen. and among the olives roared the river, foaming with a summer flood. and on the bank of the river sat a woman, all wrinkled, gray and old. her head shook with old age, and her hands shook on her knees. when she saw jason, she spoke, whining, "who will carry me across the flood?" but jason, heeding her not, went towards the waters. yet he thought twice before he leapt, so loud roared the torrent all brown from the mountain rains. the old woman whined again, "i am weak and old, fair youth. for hera's sake, the queen of the immortals, carry me over the torrent." jason was going to answer her scornfully, when cheiron's words, "speak harshly to no soul whom you may meet," came to his mind. so he said, "for hera's sake, the queen of the immortals, i will carry you over the torrent, unless we both are drowned midway." then the old dame leapt upon his back as nimbly as a goat. jason staggered in, wondering, and the first step was up to his knees. the first step was up to his knees, and the second step was up to his waist. the stones rolled about his feet, and his feet slipped about the stones. so he went on, staggering and panting, while the old woman cried upon his back, "fool, you have wet my mantle! do you mock at poor old souls like me?" jason had half a mind to drop her and let her get through the torrent alone, but cheiron's words were in his mind, and he said only, "patience, mother, the best horse may stumble some day." at last he staggered to the shore and set her down upon the bank. he lay himself panting awhile, and then leapt up to go upon his journey, but he first cast one look at the old woman, for he thought, "she should thank me once at least." and as he looked, she grew fairer than all women and taller than all men on earth. her garments shone like the summer sea, and her jewels like the stars of heaven. and she looked down on him with great soft eyes, with great eyes, mild and awful, which filled all the glen with light. jason fell upon his knees and hid his face between his hands. and she spoke: "i am hera, the queen of olympus. as thou hast done to me, so will i do to thee. call on me in the hour of need, and try if the immortals can forget!" when jason looked up, she rose from off the earth, like a pillar of tall white cloud, and floated away across the mountain peaks, towards olympus, the holy hill. then a great fear fell on jason, but after a while he grew light of heart. he blessed old cheiron and said, "surely the centaur is a prophet and knew what would come to pass when he bade me speak harshly to no soul whom i might meet." then he went down towards iolcos, and as he walked he found that he had lost one of his sandals in the flood. and as he went through the streets the people came out to look at him, so tall and fair he was. but some of the elders whispered together, and at last one of them stopped jason and called to him, "fair lad, who are you and whence come you, and what is your errand in the town?" "my name, good father, is jason, and i come from pelion up above. my errand is to pelias your king. tell me, then, where his palace is." but the old man said, "i will tell you, lest you rush upon your ruin unawares. the oracle has said that a man wearing one sandal should take the kingdom from pelias and keep it for himself. therefore beware how you go up to his palace, for he is fiercest and most cunning of all kings." jason laughed a great laugh in his pride. "good news, good father, both for you and me. for that very end, to take his kingdom, i came into the town." then he strode on toward the palace of pelias his uncle, while all the people wondered at the stranger. and he stood in the doorway and cried, "come out, come out, pelias the valiant, and fight for your kingdom like a man." pelias came out, wondering. "who are you, bold youth?" he cried. "i am jason, the son of Æson, the heir of all the land." then pelias lifted up his hands and eyes and wept, or seemed to weep, and blessed the gods who had brought his nephew to him, never to leave him more. "for," said he, "i have but three daughters, and no son to be my heir. you shall marry whichsoever of my daughters you shall choose. but come, come in and feast." so he drew jason in and spoke to him so lovingly, and feasted him so well, that jason's anger passed. when supper was ended his three cousins came into the hall, and jason thought he would like well to have one of them for his wife. but soon he looked at pelias, and when he saw that he still wept, he said, "why do you look so sad, my uncle?" then pelias sighed heavily again and again, like a man who had to tell some dreadful story, and was afraid to begin. at last he said, "for seven long years and more have i never known a quiet night, and no more will he who comes after me, till the golden fleece be brought home." then he told jason the story of phrixus and of the golden fleece, and told him what was a lie, that phrixus' spirit tormented him day and night. and his daughters came and told the same tale, and wept and said, "oh, who will bring home the golden fleece, that the spirit of phrixus may rest, and that we may rest also, for he never lets us sleep in peace?" jason sat awhile, sad and silent, for he had often heard of that golden fleece, but he looked on it as a thing hopeless and impossible for any mortal man to win. when pelias saw him silent he began to talk of other things. "one thing there is," said pelias, "on which i need your advice, for, though you are young, i see in you a wisdom beyond your years. there is one neighbor of mine whom i dread more than all men on earth. i am stronger than he now and can command him, but i know that if he stay among us, he will work my ruin in the end. can you give me a plan, jason, by which i can rid myself of that man?" after a while, jason answered half-laughing, "were i you, i would send him to fetch that same golden fleece, for if he once set forth after it, you would never be troubled with him more." at that a little smile came across the lips of pelias, and a flash of wicked joy into his eyes. jason saw it and started, and he remembered the warning of the old man, and his own one sandal and the oracle, and he saw that he was taken in a trap. but pelias only answered gently, "my son, he shall be sent forthwith." "you mean me!" cried jason, starting up, "because i came here with one sandal," and he lifted his fist angrily, while pelias stood up to him like a wolf at bay. whether of the two was the stronger and the fiercer it would be hard to tell. but after a moment pelias spoke gently, "why so rash, my son? i have not harmed you. you will go, and that gladly, for you have a hero's heart within you, and the love of glory." jason knew that he was entrapped, but he cried aloud, "you have well spoken, cunning uncle of mine, i love glory. i will go and fetch the golden fleece. promise me but this in return, and keep your word as i keep mine. treat my father lovingly while i am gone, for the sake of the all-seeing zeus, and give me up the kingdom for my own on the day that i bring back the golden fleece." then pelias looked at him and almost loved him, in the midst of all his hate, and he said, "i promise, and i will perform. it will be no shame to give up my kingdom to the man who wins that fleece." so they both went and lay down to sleep. but jason could not sleep for thinking how he was to win the golden fleece. sometimes phrixus seemed to call him in a thin voice, faint and low, as if it came from far across the sea. sometimes he seemed to see the eyes of hera, and to hear her words again, "call on me in the hour of need, and see if the immortals can forget." on the morrow jason went to pelias and said, "give me a lamb, that i may sacrifice to hera." and as he stood by the altar hera sent a thought into his mind. and he went back to pelias and said, "if you are indeed in earnest, give me two heralds that they may go round to all the princes, who were pupils of the centaur with me. then together we will fit out a ship, and take what shall befall." at that pelias praised his wisdom and hastened to send the heralds out, for he said in his heart, "let all the princes go with jason, and, like him, never return, so shall i be lord of the land and the greatest king in hellas." iii how they built the ship argo so the heralds went out and cried to all the heroes, "who dare come to the adventures of the golden fleece?" and hera stirred the hearts of all the princes, and they came from all their valleys to the yellow sand of iolcos by the sea. all the city came out to meet them, and the men were never tired with looking at their heights and their beauty and the glitter of their arms. but the women sighed over them and whispered, "alas, they are all going to their death!" then the heroes felled the mountain pines and shaped them with the axe, and argus the famed shipbuilder taught them to build a galley, the first long ship which ever sailed the seas. they named her argo, after argus the shipbuilder, and worked at her all day long. but jason went away into a far-off land, till he found orpheus the prince of minstrels, where he dwelt in his cave. and he asked him, "will you leave your mountains, orpheus, my playfellow in old times, and sail with the heroes to bring home the golden fleece? and will you charm for us all men and all monsters with your magic harp and song?" then orpheus sighed, "have i not had enough of toil and of weary wandering far and wide, since i lived in cheiron's cave, above iolcos by the sea? and now must i go out again, to the ends of all the earth, far away into the misty darkness? but a friend's demand must be obeyed." so orpheus rose up sighing, and took his harp. he led jason to the holy oak, and he bade him cut down a bough and sacrifice to hera. and they took the bough and came to iolcos, and nailed it to the prow of the ship. and at last the ship was finished, and they tried to launch her down the beach; but she was too heavy for them to move her, and her keel sank deep into the sand. then all the heroes looked at each other blushing, but jason spoke and said, "let us ask the magic bough; perhaps it can help us in our need." and a voice came from the bough, and jason heard the words it said, and bade orpheus play upon the harp, while the heroes waited round, holding the pine-trunk rollers to help the argo toward the sea. then orpheus took his harp and began his magic song. and the good ship argo heard him and longed to be away and out at sea, till she stirred in every timber, and heaved from stem to stern, and leapt up from the sand upon the rollers, and plunged onward like a gallant horse till she rushed into the whispering sea. and they stored her well with food and water, and settled themselves each man to his oar, keeping time to the harp of orpheus. then away across the bay they rowed southward, while the people lined the cliffs. but the women wept while the men shouted at the starting of that gallant crew. iv how the argonauts won the golden fleece the heroes rowed across the bay, and while they waited there for a southwest wind, they chose themselves a captain from their crew. and some called for the strongest and hugest to be their captain, but more called for jason, because he was the wisest of them all. so jason was chosen captain, and each hero vowed to stand by him faithfully in the adventure of the golden fleece. they sailed onward and northward to pelion. and their hearts yearned for the dear old mountain, as they thought of the days gone by, of the sports of their boyhood, and their hunting, and their lessons in the cave beneath the cliff. then at last they said, "let us land here and climb the dear old hill once more. we are going on a fearful journey. who knows if we shall see pelion again? let us go up to cheiron our master, and ask his blessing ere we start." so the helmsman steered them to the shore, under the crags of pelion, and they went up through the dark pine-forests toward the centaur's cave. then, as cheiron saw them, he leapt up and welcomed them every one, and set a feast of venison before them. and after supper all the heroes clapped their hands and called on orpheus to sing, but he refused, and said, "how can i, who am the younger, sing before our ancient host?" so they called on cheiron to sing. and he sang of heroes who fought with fists and teeth, and how they tore up the pine-trees in their fury, and hurled great crags of stone, while the mountains thundered with the battle, and the land was wasted far and wide. and the heroes praised his song right heartily, for some of them had helped in that great fight. then orpheus took the lyre and sang of the making of the wondrous world. and as he sang, his voice rose from the cave above the crags, and through the tree-tops. the trees bowed their heads when they heard it, and the forest beasts crept close to listen, and the birds forsook their nests and hovered near. and old cheiron clapped his hands together and beat his hoofs upon the ground, for wonder at that magic song. now the heroes came down to the ship, and cheiron came down with them, weeping, and kissed them one by one, and promised to them great renown. and the heroes wept when they left him, till their great hearts could weep no more, for he was kind and just, and wiser than all beasts and men. then cheiron went up to a cliff and prayed for them, that they might come home safe and well, while the heroes rowed away and watched him standing on his cliff above the sea, with his great hands raised toward heaven, and his white locks waving in the wind. they strained their eyes to watch him to the last, for they felt that they should look on him no more. so they rowed on over the long swell of the sea eastward, and out into the open sea which we now call the black sea. all feared that dreadful sea, and its rocks and fogs and bitter storms, and the heroes trembled for all their courage, as they came into that wild black sea, and saw it stretching out before them, without a shore, as far as eye could see. then orpheus spoke and warned them that they must come now to the wandering blue rocks. soon they saw them, and their blue peaks shone like spires and castles of gray glass, while an ice-cold wind blew from them and chilled all the heroes' hearts. as they neared them, they could see the rocks heaving, as they rolled upon the long sea-waves, crashing and grinding together, till the roar went up to heaven. the heroes' hearts sank within them, and they lay upon their oars in fear, but orpheus called to the helmsman, "between the blue rocks we must pass, so look for an opening, and be brave, for hera is with us." the cunning helmsman stood silent, clenching his teeth, till he saw a heron come flying mast-high toward the rocks, and hover awhile before them, as if looking for a passage through. then he cried, "hera has sent us a pilot; let us follow the bird." the heron flapped to and fro a moment till he saw a hidden gap, and into it he rushed like an arrow, while the heroes watched what would befall. and the blue rocks dashed together as the bird fled swiftly through, but they struck but one feather from his tail, and then rebounded at the shock. then the helmsman cheered the heroes, and they shouted, while the oars bent beneath their strokes as they rushed between those toppling ice-crags. but ere the rocks could meet again they had passed them, and were safe out in the open sea. after that they sailed on wearily along the coast, past many a mighty river's mouth, and past many a barbarous tribe. and at day dawn they looked eastward, till, shining above the tree-tops, they saw the golden roofs of king aietes, the child of the sun. then out spoke the helmsman, "we are come to our goal at last, for there are the roofs of aietes, and the woods where all poisons grow. but who can tell us where among them is hid the golden fleece?" but jason cheered the heroes, for his heart was high and bold, and he said, "i will go alone to aietes, and win him with soft words. better so than to go altogether and to come to blows at once." but the heroes would not stay behind so they rowed boldly up the stream. and a dream came to aietes and filled his heart with fear. then he leapt up and bade his servants bring his chariot, that he might go down to the river-side, and appease the nymphs and the heroes whose spirits haunt the bank. so he went down in his golden chariot, and his daughters by his side, medeia, the fair witch-maiden, and chalciope, who had been phrixus' wife, and behind him a crowd of servants and soldiers, for he was a rich and mighty prince. and as he drove down by the reedy river, he saw the argo sliding up beneath the bank, and many a hero in her, like immortals for beauty and strength. but jason was the noblest of all, for hera, who loved him, gave him beauty and height and terrible manhood. when they came near together and looked into each other's eyes, the heroes were awed before aietes as he shone in his chariot like his father, the glorious sun. for his robes were of rich gold tissue, and the rays of his diadem flashed fire. and in his hand he bore a jeweled scepter, which glittered like the stars. sternly aietes looked at the heroes, and sternly he spoke and loud, "who are you, and what want you here that you come to our shore? know this is my kingdom and these are my people who serve me. never yet grew they tired in battle, and well they know how to face a foe." and the heroes sat silent awhile before the face of that ancient king. but hera, the awful goddess, put courage into jason's heart, and he rose and shouted loudly in answer to the king. "we are no lawless men. we come, not to plunder or carry away slaves from your land, but we have come on a quest to bring home the golden fleece. and these too, my bold comrades, they are no nameless men, for some are the sons of immortals, and some of heroes far renowned. we too never tire in battle, and know well how to give blows and to take. yet we wish to be guests at your table; it will be better so for both." then aietes' rage rushed up like a whirlwind, and his eyes flashed fire as he heard; but he crushed his anger down in his heart and spoke mildly. "if you will fight, then many a man must die. but if you will be ruled by me you will find it better far to choose the best man among you, and let him fulfil the labors which i demand. then i will give him the golden fleece for a prize and a glory to you all." so he said, and then turned his horses and drove back in silence to the town. the heroes sat dumb with sorrow, for there was no facing the thousands of king aietes' men and the fearful chance of war. but chalciope, the widow of phrixus, went weeping to the town, for she remembered her husband and all the pleasures of her youth while she watched the fair face of his kinsmen and their long locks of golden hair. and she whispered to medeia, her sister, "why should all these brave men die? why does not my father give up the fleece, that my husband's spirit may have rest?" medeia's heart pitied the heroes, and jason most of all, and she answered, "our father is stern and terrible, and who can win the golden fleece?" but chalciope said, "these men are not like our men; there is nothing which they cannot dare nor do." then medeia thought of jason and his brave countenance, and said, "if there was one among them who knew no fear, i could show him how to win the fleece." so in the dusk of the evening they went down to the river-side, chalciope and medeia the witch-maiden, and with them a lad. and the lad crept forward, among the beds of reeds, till he came to where jason kept ward on shore, leaning upon his lance, full of thought. and the lad said, "chalciope waits for you, to talk about the golden fleece." then jason went boldly with the boy and found the two princesses. when chalciope saw him, she wept and took his hands and cried, "o cousin of my beloved phrixus, go home before you die!" "it would be base to go home now, fair princess, and to have sailed all these seas in vain." then both the princesses besought him, but jason said, "it is too late to return!" "but you know not," said medeia, "what he must do who would win the fleece. he must tame the two brazen-footed bulls, which breathe devouring flame, and with them he must plow ere nightfall four acres in a field. he must sow the acres with serpents' teeth, of which each tooth springs up into an armed man. then he must fight with all these warriors. and little will it profit him to conquer them, for the fleece is guarded by a serpent more huge than any mountain pine. over his body you must step if you would reach the golden fleece." then jason laughed bitterly: "unjustly is that fleece kept here, and by an unjust and lawless king, and unjustly shall i die in my youth, for i will attempt it ere another sun be set." medeia trembled and said, "no mortal man can reach that fleece unless i guide him through." but jason cried, "no wall so high but it may be climbed at last, and no wood so thick but it may be crawled through. no serpent so wary but he may be charmed, and i may yet win the golden fleece, if a wise maiden help bold men." and he looked at medeia with his glittering eye, till she blushed and trembled and said, "who can face the fire of the bulls' breath and fight ten thousand armed men?" "he whom you help," said jason, flattering her, "for your fame is spread over all the earth." and medeia said slowly, "why should you die? i have an ointment here. i made it from the magic ice-flower. anoint yourself with that, and you shall have in you the strength of seven, and anoint your shield with it, and neither fire nor sword shall harm you. anoint your helmet with it, before you sow the serpents' teeth, and when the sons of earth spring up, cast your helmet among them, and every man of them shall perish." then jason fell on his knees before her, and thanked her and kissed her hands, and she gave him the vase of ointment, and fled trembling through the reeds. and jason told his comrades what had happened, and showed them the box of ointment. so at sunrise jason went and bathed and anointed himself from head to foot, and his shield and his helmet and his weapons. and when the sun had risen, jason sent two of his heroes to tell aietes that he was ready for the fight. up among the marble walls they went, and beneath the roofs of gold, and stood in the hall of aietes, while he grew pale with rage. "fulfil your promise to us, child of the blazing sun," the heroes cried to king aietes. "give us the serpents' teeth, and let loose the fiery bulls, for we have found a champion among us, who can win the golden fleece!" aietes grew more pale with rage, for he had fancied that they had fled away by night, but he could not break his promise, so he gave them the serpents' teeth. then he called his chariot and his horses, and sent heralds through all the town, and all the people went out with him to the dreadful war-god's field. there aietes sat upon his throne, with his warriors on each hand, thousands and tens of thousands clothed from head to foot in steel chain mail. and the people and women crowded to every window and bank and wall, while the heroes stood together, a mere handful in the midst of that great host. chalciope was there, and medeia, wrapped closely in her veil; but aietes did not know that she was muttering cunning spells between her lips. then jason cried, "fulfil your promise, and let your fiery bulls come forth!" aietes bade open the gates, and the magic bulls leapt out. their brazen hoofs rang upon the ground as they rushed with lowered heads upon jason, but he never flinched a step. the flame of their breath swept round him, but it singed not a hair of his head. and the bulls stopped short and trembled when medeia began her spell. then jason sprang upon the nearest, and seized him by the horns, and up and down they wrestled, till the bull fell groveling on his knees. for the heart of the bull died within him, beneath the steadfast eye of that dark witch-maiden and the magic whisper of her lips. so both the bulls were tamed and yoked, and jason bound them to the plow and goaded them onward with his lance, till he had plowed the sacred field. and all the heroes shouted, but aietes bit his lips with rage, for half of jason's work was done. then jason took the serpents' teeth and sowed them, and waited what would befall. and medeia looked at him and at his helmet, lest he should forget the lesson she had taught him. now every furrow heaved and bubbled, and out of every clod arose a man. out of the earth they arose by thousands, each clad from head to foot in steel, and drew their swords and rushed on jason where he stood in the midst alone. the heroes grew pale with fear for him, but aietes laughed an angry laugh. then jason snatched off his helmet and hurled it into the thickest of the throng. and hate and fear and suspicion came upon them, and one cried to his fellows, "thou didst strike me," and another, "thou art jason, thou shalt die," and each turned his hand against the rest, and they fought and were never weary, till they all lay dead upon the ground. and the magic furrows opened, and the kind earth took them home again, and jason's work was done. then the heroes rose and shouted, and jason cried to the king, "lead me to the golden fleece this moment before the sun goes down." but aietes thought, "who is this, who is proof against all magic? he may kill the serpent yet!" so he delayed, and sat taking counsel with his princes. afterwards he bade a herald cry, "to-morrow we will meet these heroes and speak about the golden fleece!" then he turned and looked at medeia. "this is your doing, false witch-maid," he said; "you have helped these yellow-haired strangers." medeia shrank and trembled, and her face grew pale with fear, and aietes knew that she was guilty, and he whispered, "if they win the fleece, you die." now the heroes went marching toward their ship, growling, like lions cheated of their prey. "let us go together to the grove and take the fleece by force," they said. but jason held them back, while he praised them for brave heroes, for he hoped for medeia's help. and after a time she came trembling, and wept a long while before she spoke. at last she said, "i must die, for my father has found out that i have helped you." but all the heroes cried, "if you die we die with you, for without you we cannot win the fleece, and home we will never go without it." "you need not die," said jason to the witch-maiden. "flee home with us across the sea. show us but how to win the fleece, and come with us and you shall be my queen, and rule over the rich princes in iolcos by the sea." and all the heroes pressed round and vowed to her that she should be their queen. medeia wept and hid her face in her hands. "must i leave my home and my people?" she sobbed. "but the lot is cast: i will show you how to win the golden fleece. bring up your ship to the woodside, and moor her there against the bank. and let jason come up at midnight and one brave comrade with him, and meet me beneath the wall." then all the heroes cried together, "i will go--and i--and i!" but medeia calmed them and said, "orpheus shall go with jason, and take his magic harp." and orpheus laughed for joy and clapped his hands, because the choice had fallen on him. so at midnight they went up the bank and found medeia, and she brought them to a thicket beside the war-god's gate. and the base of the gate fell down and the brazen doors flew wide, and medeia and the heroes ran forward, and hurried through the poison wood, guided by the gleam of the golden fleece, until they saw it hanging on one vast tree in the midst. jason would have sprung to seize it, but medeia held him back and pointed to the tree-foot, where a mighty serpent lay, coiled in and out among the roots. when the serpent saw them coming, he lifted up his head and watched them with his small bright eyes, and flashed his forked tongue. but medeia called gently to him, and he stretched out his long spotted neck, and licked her hand. then she made a sign to orpheus, and he began his magic song. and as he sung, the forest grew calm, and the leaves on every tree hung still, and the serpent's head sank down and his coils grew limp, and his glittering eyes closed lazily, till he breathed as gently as a child. jason leapt forward warily and stept across that mighty snake, and tore the fleece from off the tree-trunk. then the witch-maiden with jason and orpheus turned and rushed down to the bank where the argo lay. there was silence for a moment, when jason held the golden fleece on high. then he cried, "go now, good argo, swift and steady, if ever you would see pelion more." and she went, as the heroes drove her, grim and silent all, with muffled oars. on and on, beneath the dewy darkness, they fled swiftly down the swirling stream, on and on till they heard the merry music of the surge. into the surge they rushed, and the argo leapt the breakers like a horse, till the heroes stopped, all panting, each man upon his oar, as she slid into the broad sea. then orpheus took his harp and sang a song of praise, till the heroes' hearts rose high again, and they rowed on, stoutly and steadfastly, away into the darkness of the west. v how the argonauts reached home so the heroes fled away in haste, but aietes manned his fleet and followed them. then medeia, the dark witch-maiden, laid a cruel plot, for she killed her young brother who had come with her, and cast him into the sea, and said, "ere my father can take up his body and bury it, he must wait long and be left far behind." and all the heroes shuddered, and looked one at the other in shame. when aietes came to the place he stopped a long while and bewailed his son, and took him up and went home. so the heroes escaped for a time, but zeus saw that evil deed, and out of the heavens he sent a storm and swept the argo far from her course. and at last she struck on a shoal, and the waves rolled over her and through her, and the heroes lost all hope of life. then out spoke the magic bough, which stood upon the argo's prow, "for your guilt, you must sail a weary way to where circe, medeia's sister, dwells among the islands of the west; she shall cleanse you of your guilt." whither they went i cannot tell, nor how they came to circe's isle, but at last they reached the fairy island of the west. and jason bid them land, and as they went ashore they met circe coming down toward the ship, and they trembled when they saw her, for her hair and face and robes shone flame. then circe cried to medeia, "ah, wretched girl, have you forgotten your sins that you come hither, where the flowers bloom all the year round? where is your aged father, and the brother whom you killed? i will send you food and wine, but your ship must not stay here, for she is black with your wickedness." and the heroes prayed, but in vain, and cried, "cleanse us from our guilt!" but she sent them away and said, "go eastward, that you may be cleansed, and after that you may go home." slowly and wearily they sailed on, till one summer's eve they came to a flowery island, and as they neared it they heard sweet songs. [illustration: orpheus sang till his voice drowned the song of the sirens.] medeia started when she heard, and cried, "beware, o heroes, for here are the rocks of the sirens. you must pass close by them, but those who listen to that song are lost." then orpheus spoke, he, the king of all minstrels, "let them match their song against mine;" so he caught up his lyre and began his magic song. now they could see the sirens. three fair maidens, sitting on the beach, beneath a rock red in the setting sun. slowly they sung and sleepily, and as the heroes listened the oars fell from their hands, and their heads dropped, and they closed their heavy eyes, and all their toil seemed foolishness, and they thought of their renown no more. then medeia clapped her hands together and cried, "sing louder, orpheus, sing louder." and orpheus sang till his voice drowned the song of the sirens, and the heroes caught their oars again and cried, "we will be men, and we will dare and suffer to the last." and as orpheus sang, they dashed their oars into the sea and kept time to his music as they fled fast away, and the sirens' voices died behind them, in the hissing of the foam. but when the sirens saw that they were conquered, they shrieked for envy and rage and leapt into the sea, and were changed into rocks. then, as the argonauts rowed on, they came to a fearful whirlpool, and they could neither go back nor forward, for the waves caught them and spun them round and round. while they struggled in the whirlpool, they saw near them on the other side of the strait a rock stand in the water--a rock smooth and slippery, and half way up a misty cave. when orpheus saw the rock he groaned. "little will it help us," he cried, "to escape the jaws of the whirlpool. for in that cave lives a sea-hag, and from her cave she fishes for all things that pass by, and never ship's crew boasted that they came safe past her rock." then out of the depths came thetis, the silver-footed bride of one of the heroes. she came with all her nymphs around her, and they played like snow-white dolphins, diving in from wave to wave before the ship, and in her wake and beside her, as dolphins play. and they caught the ship and guided her, and passed her on from hand to hand, and tossed her through the billows, as maidens do the ball. and when the sea-hag stooped to seize the ship, they struck her, and she shrank back into her cave affrighted, and the argo leapt safe past her, while a fair breeze rose behind. then thetis and her nymphs sank down to their coral caves beneath the sea, and their gardens of green and purple, where flowers bloom all the year round, while the heroes went on rejoicing, yet dreading what might come next. they rowed away for many a weary day till their water was spent and their food eaten, but at last they saw a long steep island. "we will land here," they cried, "and fill our water casks upon the shore." but when they came nearer to the island they saw a wondrous sight. for on the cliffs stood a giant, taller than any mountain pine. when he saw the argo and her crew he came toward them, more swiftly than the swiftest horse, and he shouted to them, "you are pirates, you are robbers! if you land you shall die the death." then the heroes lay on their oars in fear, but medeia spoke: "i know this giant. if strangers land he leaps into his furnace, which flames there among the hills, and when he is red-hot he rushes on them, and burns them in his brazen hands. but he has but one vein in all his body filled with liquid fire, and this vein is closed with a nail. i will find out where the nail is placed, and when i have got it into my hands you shall water your ship in peace." so they took the witch-maiden and left her alone on the shore. and she stood there all alone in her beauty till the giant strode back red-hot from head to heel. when he saw the maiden he stopped. and she looked boldly up into his face and sang a magic song, and she held up a flash of crystal and said, "i am medeia, the witch-maiden. my sister circe gave me this and said, 'go, reward talus, the faithful giant, for his fame is gone out into all lands.' so come and i will pour this into your veins, that you may live for ever young." and he listened to her false words, that simple talus, and came near. but medeia said, "dip yourself in the sea first and cool yourself, lest you burn my tender hands. then show me the nail in your vein, and in that will i pour the liquid from the crystal flask." then that simple talus dipped himself in the sea, and came and knelt before medeia and showed the secret nail. and she drew the nail out gently, but she poured nothing in, and instead the liquid fire streamed forth. talus tried to leap up, crying, "you have betrayed me, false witch-maiden." but she lifted up her hands before him and sang, till he sank beneath her spell. and as he sank, the earth groaned beneath his weight and the liquid fire ran from his heel, like a stream of lava, to the sea. then medeia laughed and called to the heroes, "come and water your ship in peace." so they came and found the giant lying dead, and they fell down and kissed medeia's feet, and watered their ship, and took sheep and oxen, and so left that inhospitable shore. at the next island they went ashore and offered sacrifices, and orpheus purged them from their guilt. and at last, after many weary days and nights, all worn and tired, the heroes saw once more pelion and iolcos by the sea. they ran the ship ashore, but they had no strength left to haul her up the beach, and they crawled out on the pebbles and wept, till they could weep no more. for the houses and the trees were all altered, and all the faces they saw were strange, so that their joy was swallowed up in sorrow. the people crowded round and asked them, "who are you, that you sit weeping here?" "we are the sons of your princes, who sailed in search of the golden fleece, and we have brought it home. give us news of our fathers and mothers, if any of them be left alive on earth." then there was shouting and laughing and weeping, and all the kings came to the shore, and they led away the heroes to their homes, and bewailed the valiant dead. and jason went up with medeia to the palace of his uncle pelias. and when he came in, pelias and Æson, jason's father, sat by the fire, two old men, whose heads shook together as they tried to warm themselves before the fire. jason fell down at his father's knee and wept and said, "i am your own son jason, and i have brought home the golden fleece and a princess of the sun's race for my bride." then his father clung to him like a child, and wept, and would not let him go, and cried, "promise never to leave me till i die." and jason turned to his uncle pelias, "now give me up the kingdom and fulfil your promise, as i have fulfilled mine." and his uncle gave him his kingdom. so jason stayed at iolcos by the sea. theseus adapted by mary macgregor i how theseus lifted the stone once upon a time there was a princess called aithra. she had one fair son named theseus, the bravest lad in all the land. and aithra never smiled but when she looked at him, for her husband had forgotten her, and lived far away. aithra used to go up to the temple of the gods, and sit there all day, looking out across the bay, over the purple peaks of the mountains to the attic shore beyond. when theseus was full fifteen years old, she took him up with her to the temple, and into the thickets which grew in the temple yard. she led him to a tall plane-tree, and there she sighed and said, "theseus, my son, go into that thicket and you will find at the plane-tree foot a great flat stone. lift it, and bring me what lies underneath." then theseus pushed his way in through the thick bushes, and searching among their roots he found a great flat stone, all overgrown with ivy and moss. he tried to lift it, but he could not. and he tried till the sweat ran down his brow from the heat, and the tears from his eyes for shame, but all was of no avail. and at last he came back to his mother and said, "i have found the stone, but i cannot lift it, nor do i think that any man could, in all the land." then she sighed and said, "the day may come when you will be a stronger man than lives in all the land." and she took him by the hand and went into the temple and prayed, and came down again with theseus to her home. and when a full year was past, she led theseus up again to the temple and bade him lift the stone, but he could not. then she sighed again and said the same words again, and went down and came again next year. but theseus could not lift the stone then, nor the year after. he longed to ask his mother the meaning of that stone, and what might be underneath it, but her face was so sad that he had not the heart to ask. so he said to himself, "the day shall surely come when i will lift that stone." and in order to grow strong he spent all his days in wrestling and boxing, and hunting the boar and the bull and the deer among rocks, till upon all the mountains there was no hunter so swift as theseus, and all the people said, "surely the gods are with the lad!" when his eighteenth year was past, aithra led him up again to the temple and said, "theseus, lift the stone this day, or never know who you are." and theseus went into the thicket and stood over the stone and tugged at it, and it moved. then he said, "if i break my heart in my body it shall come up." and he tugged at it once more, and lifted it, and rolled it over with a shout. when he looked beneath it, on the ground lay a sword of bronze, with a hilt of glittering gold, and beside it a pair of golden sandals. theseus caught them up and burst through the bushes and leapt to his mother, holding them high above his head. but when she saw them she wept long in silence, hiding her fair face in her shawl. and theseus stood by her and wept also, he knew not why. when she was tired of weeping aithra lifted up her head and laid her finger on her lips, and said, "hide them in your cloak, theseus, my son, and come with me where we can look down upon the sea." they went outside the sacred wall and looked down over the bright blue sea, and aithra said, "do you see the land at our feet?" and theseus said, "yes, this is where i was born and bred." and she asked, "do you see the land beyond?" and the lad answered, "yes, that is attica, where the athenian people live!" "that is a fair land and large, theseus, my son, and it looks towards the sunny south. there the hills are sweet with thyme, and the meadows with violet, and the nightingales sing all day in the thickets. there are twelve towns well peopled, the homes of an ancient race. what would you do, theseus, if you were king of such a land?" theseus stood astonished, as he looked across the broad bright sea and saw the fair attic shore. his heart grew great within him, and he said, "if i were king of such a land, i would rule it wisely and well, in wisdom and in might." and aithra smiled and said, "take, then, the sword and the sandals and go to thy father Ægeus, king of athens, and say to him, 'the stone is lifted!' then show him the sword and the sandals, and take what the gods shall send." but theseus wept, "shall i leave you, o my mother?" she answered, "weep not for me." then she kissed theseus and wept over him, and went into the temple, and theseus saw her no more. ii how theseus slew the club-bearer and the pine-bender so theseus stood there alone, with his mind full of many hopes. and first he thought of going down to the harbor and hiring a swift ship and sailing across the bay to athens. but even that seemed too slow for him, and he longed for wings to fly across the sea and find his father. after a while his heart began to fail him, and he sighed and said within himself, "what if my father have other sons around him, whom he loves? what if he will not receive me? he has forgotten me ever since i was born. why should he welcome me now?" then he thought a long while sadly, but at last he cried aloud, "yes, i will make him love me. i will win honor, and do such deeds that Ægeus shall be proud of me though he had fifty other sons." "i will go by land and into the mountains, and so round to athens. perhaps there i may hear of brave adventures, and do something which shall win my father's love." so theseus went by land and away into the mountains, with his father's sword upon his thigh. and he went up into the gloomy glens, up and up, till the lowland grew blue beneath his feet, and the clouds drove damp about his head. but he went up and up, ever toiling on through bog and brake, till he came to a pile of stones. on the stones a man was sitting wrapped in a cloak of bear-skin. when he saw theseus, he rose, and laughed till the glens rattled. "who art thou, fair fly, who hast walked into the spider's web?" theseus walked on steadily, and made no answer, but he thought, "is this some robber? has an adventure come to me already?" but the strange man laughed louder than ever and said, "bold fly, know thou not these glens are the web from which no fly ever finds his way out again, and i am the spider who eats the flies? come hither and let me feast upon you. it is of no use to run away, for these glens in the mountain make so cunning a web, that through it no man can find his way home." still theseus came steadily on, and he asked, "and what is your name, bold spider, and where are your spider's fangs?" the strange man laughed again. "men call me the club-bearer, and here is my spider's fang," and he lifted off from the stones at his side a mighty club of bronze. "with this i pound all proud flies," he said. "so give me up that gay sword of yours, and your mantle, and your golden sandals, lest i pound you and by ill-luck you die!" but theseus wrapped his mantle round his left arm quickly, in hard folds, and drew his sword, and rushed upon the club-bearer, and the club-bearer rushed on him. thrice he struck at theseus and made him bend under the blows like a sapling. and thrice theseus sprang upright after the blow, and he stabbed at the club-bearer with his sword, but the loose folds of the bear-skin saved him. then theseus grew angry and closed with him, and caught him by the throat, and they fell and rolled over together. but when theseus rose up from the ground the club-bearer lay still at his feet. so theseus took the strange man's club and his bear-skin and went upon his journey down the glens, till he came to a broad green valley, and he saw flocks and herds sleeping beneath the trees. and by the side of a pleasant fountain were nymphs and shepherds dancing, but no one piped to them as they danced. [illustration: they leapt across the pool and came to him.] when they saw theseus they shrieked, and the shepherds ran off and drove away their flocks, while the nymphs dived into the fountain and vanished. theseus wondered and laughed, "what strange fancies have folks here, who run away from strangers, and have no music when they dance." but he was tired and dusty and thirsty, so he thought no more of them, but drank and bathed in the clear pool, and then lay down in the shade under a plane-tree, while the water sang him to sleep as it trickled down from stone to stone. and when he woke he heard a whispering, and saw the nymphs peeping at him across the fountain from the dark mouth of a cave, where they sat on green cushions of moss. one said, "surely he is not the club-bearer," and another, "he looks no robber, but a fair and gentle youth." then theseus smiled and called them. "fair nymphs, i am not the club-bearer. he sleeps among the kites and crows, but i have brought away his bear-skin and his club." they leapt across the pool, and came to him, and called the shepherds back. and theseus told them how he had slain the club-bearer, and the shepherds kissed his feet and sang, "now we shall feed our flocks in peace, and not be afraid to have music when we dance. for the cruel club-bearer has met his match, and he will listen for our pipes no more." then the shepherds brought him kids' flesh and wine, and the nymphs brought him honey from the rocks. and theseus ate and drank with them, and they begged him to stay, but he would not. "i have a great work to do;" he said, "i must go towards athens." and the shepherds said, "you must look warily about you, lest you meet the robber, called the pine-bender. for he bends down two pine-trees and binds all travelers hand and foot between them, and when he lets the trees go their bodies are torn in sunder." but theseus went on swiftly, for his heart burned to meet that cruel robber. and in a pine-wood at last he met him, where the road ran between high rocks. there the robber sat upon a stone by the wayside, with a young fir-tree for a club across his knees, and a cord laid ready by his side, and over his head, upon the fir-top, hung the bones of murdered men. then theseus shouted to him, "holla, thou valiant pine-bender, hast thou two fir-trees left for me?" the robber leapt to his feet and answered, pointing to the bones above his head, "my larder has grown empty lately, so i have two fir-trees ready for thee." he rushed on theseus, lifting his club, and theseus rushed upon him, and they fought together till the greenwoods rang. then theseus heaved up a mighty stroke and smote the pine-bearer down upon his face, and knelt upon his back, and bound him with his own cord, and said, "as thou hast done to others, so shall it be done to thee." and he bent down two young fir-trees and bound the robber between them for all his struggling and his prayers, and as he let the trees go the robber perished, and theseus went on, leaving him to the hawks and crows. clearing the land of monsters as he went, theseus saw at last the plain of athens before him. and as he went up through athens all the people ran out to see him, for his fame had gone before him, and every one knew of his mighty deeds, and they shouted, "here comes the hero!" but theseus went on sadly and steadfastly, for his heart yearned after his father. he went up the holy stairs to the spot where the palace of Ægeus stood. he went straight into the hall and stood upon the threshold and looked round. he saw his cousins sitting at the table, and loud they laughed and fast they passed the wine-cup round, but no Ægeus sat among them. they saw theseus and called to him, "holla, tall stranger at the door, what is your will to-day?" "i come to ask for hospitality." "then take it and welcome. you look like a hero and a bold warrior, and we like such to drink with us." "i ask no hospitality of you; i ask it of Ægeus the king, the master of this house." at that some growled, and some laughed and shouted, "heyday! we are all masters here." "then i am master as much as the rest of you," said theseus, and he strode past the table up the hall, and looked around for Ægeus, but he was nowhere to be seen. the revelers looked at him and then at each other, and each whispered to the man next him, "this is a forward fellow; he ought to be thrust out at the door." but each man's neighbor whispered in return, "his shoulders are broad; will you rise and put him out?" so they all sat still where they were. then theseus called to the servants and said, "go tell king Ægeus, your master, that theseus is here and asks to be his guest awhile." a servant ran and told Ægeus, where he sat in his chamber with medeia, the dark witch-woman, watching her eye and hand. and when Ægeus heard of theseus he turned pale and again red, and rose from his seat trembling, while medeia, the witch, watched him like a snake. "what is theseus to you?" she asked. but he said hastily, "do you not know who this theseus is? the hero who has cleared the country from all monsters. i must go out and welcome him." so Ægeus came into the hall, and when theseus saw him his heart leapt into his mouth, and he longed to fall on his neck and welcome him. but he controlled himself and thought, "my father may not wish for me, after all. i will try him before i discover myself." and he bowed low before Ægeus and said, "i have delivered the king's realm from many monsters, therefore i am come to ask a reward of the king." old Ægeus looked on him and loved him, but he only sighed and said, "it is little that i can give you, noble lad, and nothing that is worthy of you." "all i ask," said theseus, "is to eat and drink at your table." "that i can give you," said Ægeus, "if at least i am master in my own hall." then he bade them put a seat for theseus, and set before him the best of the feast, and theseus sat and ate so much that all the company wondered at him, but always he kept his club by his side. but medeia, the dark witch-maiden, was watching all the while, and she saw how the heart of Ægeus opened to theseus, and she said to herself, "this youth will be master here, unless i hinder it." then she went back modestly to her chamber, while theseus ate and drank, and all the servants whispered, "this, then, is the man who killed the monsters! how noble are his looks, and how huge his size! ah, would he were our master's son!" presently medeia came forth, decked in all her jewels and her rich eastern robes, and looking more beautiful than the day, so that all the guests could look at nothing else. and in her right hand she held a golden cup, and in her left a flask of gold. she came up to theseus, and spoke in a sweet and winning voice, "hail to the hero! drink of my charmed cup, which gives rest after every toil and heals all wounds;" and as she spoke she poured sparkling wine into the cup. theseus looked up into her fair face and into her deep dark eyes, and as he looked he shrank and shuddered, for they were dry eyes like the eyes of a snake. then he rose and said, "the wine is rich, and the wine-bearer fair. let her pledge me first herself in the cup that the wine may be sweeter." medeia turned pale and stammered, "forgive me, fair hero, but i am ill and dare drink no wine." theseus looked again into her eyes and cried, "thou shalt pledge me in that cup or die!" then medeia shrieked and dashed the cup to the ground and fled, for there was strong poison in that wine. and medeia called her dragon chariot, and sprang into it, and fled aloft, away over land and sea, and no man saw her more. [illustration: theseus looked up into her fair face.] Ægeus cried, "what have you done?" but theseus said, "i have rid the land of one enchantment, now i will rid it of one more." and he came close to Ægeus and drew from his cloak the sword and the sandals, and said the words which his mother bade him, "the stone is lifted." Ægeus stepped back a pace and looked at the lad till his eyes grew dim, and then he cast himself on his neck and wept, and theseus wept, till they had no strength left to weep more. then Ægeus turned to all the people and cried, "behold my son!" but the cousins were angry and drew their swords against theseus. twenty against one they fought, and yet theseus beat them all, till at last he was left alone in the palace with his new-found father. but before nightfall all the town came up, with dances and songs, because the king had found an heir to his royal house. so theseus stayed with his father all the winter through, and when spring drew near, he saw all the people of athens grow sad and silent. and he asked the reason of the silence and the sadness, but no one would answer him a word. then he went to his father and asked him, but Ægeus turned away his face and wept. but when spring had come, a herald stood in the market-place and cried, "o people and king of athens, where is your yearly tribute?" then a great lamentation arose throughout the city. but theseus stood up before the herald and cried, "i am a stranger here. tell me, then, why you come?" "to fetch the tribute which king Ægeus promised to king minos. blood was shed here unjustly, and king minos came to avenge it, and would not leave athens till the land had promised him tribute--seven youths and seven maidens every year, who go with me in a black-sailed ship." then theseus groaned inwardly and said, "i will go myself with these youths and maidens, and kill king minos upon his royal throne." but Ægeus shrieked and cried, "you shall not go, my son, you shall not go to die horribly, as those youths and maidens die. for minos thrusts them into a labyrinth, and no one can escape from its winding ways, before they meet the minotaur, the monster who feeds upon the flesh of men. there he devours them horribly, and they never see this land again." and theseus said, "therefore all the more will i go with them, and slay the accursed minotaur." then Ægeus clung to his knees, but theseus would not stay, and at last he let him go, weeping bitterly, and saying only this last word, "promise me but this, if you return in peace, though that may hardly be. take down the black sail of the ship, for i shall watch for it all day upon the cliffs, and hoist instead a white sail, that i may know afar off that you are safe." and theseus promised, and went out, and to the market-place, where the herald stood and drew lots for the youths and maidens who were to sail in that sad ship. the people stood wailing and weeping as the lot fell on this one and on that, but theseus strode into the midst and cried, "here is one who needs no lot. i myself will be one of the seven." and the herald asked in wonder, "fair youth, do you know whither you are going?" "i know," answered theseus boldly; "let us go down to the black-sailed ship." so they went down to the black-sailed ship, seven maidens and seven youths, and theseus before them all. and the people followed them, lamenting. but theseus whispered to his companions, "have hope, for the monster is not immortal." then their hearts were comforted a little, but they wept as they went on board; and the cliffs rang with the voice of their weeping. iii how theseus slew the minotaur and the ship sailed slowly on, till at last it reached the land of crete, and theseus stood before king minos, and they looked each other in the face. minos bade take the youths and the maidens to prison, and cast them to the minotaur one by one. then theseus cried, "a boon, o minos! let me be thrown first to the monster. for i came hither, for that very purpose, of my own will and not by lot." "who art thou, thou brave youth?" asked the king. "i am the son of Ægeus, the king of athens, and i am come here to end the yearly tribute." and minos pondered a while, looking steadfastly at him, and he thought, "the lad means to atone by his own death for his father's sin;" and he answered mildly, "go back in peace, my son. it is a pity that one so brave should die." but theseus said, "i have sworn that i will not go back till i have seen the monster face to face." at that minos frowned and said, "then thou shalt see him." and they led theseus away into the prison, with the other youths and maidens. now ariadne, the daughter of minos, saw theseus as she came out of her white stone hall, and she loved him for his courage and his beauty, and she said, "it is shameful that such a youth should die." and by night she went down to the prison and told him all her heart, and said, "flee down to your ship at once, for i have bribed the guards before the door. flee, you and all your friends, and go back in peace, and take me with you. for i dare not stay after you are gone. my father will kill me miserably, if he knows what i have done." and theseus stood silent awhile, for he was astonished and confounded by her beauty. but at last he said, "i cannot go home in peace till i have seen and slain this minotaur, and put an end to the terrors of my land." "and will you kill the minotaur? how then will you do it?" asked ariadne in wonder. "i know not, nor do i care, but he must be strong if he be too strong for me," said theseus. then she loved him all the more and said, "but when you have killed him, how will you find your way out of the labyrinth?" "i know not, neither do i care, but it must be a strange road if i do not find it out before i have eaten up the monster's carcass." then ariadne loved him yet more, and said, "fair youth, you are too bold, but i can help you, weak as i am. i will give you a sword, and with that perhaps you may slay the monster, and a clue of thread, and by that perhaps you may find your way out again. only promise me that if you escape you will take me home with you." then theseus laughed and said, "am i not safe enough now?" and he hid his sword, and rolled up the clue in his hand, and then he fell down before ariadne and kissed her hands and her feet, while she wept over him a long while. then the princess went away, and theseus lay down and slept sweetly. when evening came the guards led him away to the labyrinth. and he went down into that doleful gulf, and he turned on the left hand and on the right hand, and went up and down till his head was dizzy, but all the while he held the clue. for when he went in he fastened it to a stone and left it to unroll out of his hand as he went on, and it lasted till he met the minotaur in a narrow chasm between black cliffs. and when he saw the minotaur, he stopped a while, for he had never seen so strange a monster. his body was a man's, but his head was the head of a bull, and his teeth were the teeth of a lion. when he saw theseus, he roared and put his head down and rushed right at him. but theseus stepped aside nimbly, and as the monster passed by, cut him in the knee, and ere he could turn in the narrow path, he followed him, and stabbed him again and again from behind, till the monster fled, bellowing wildly. theseus followed him, holding the clue of thread in his left hand, and at last he came up with him, where he lay panting, and caught him by the horns, and forced his head back, and drove the keen sword through his throat. then theseus turned and went back, limping and weary, feeling his way by the clue of thread, till he came to the mouth of that doleful place, and saw waiting for him--whom but ariadne? and he whispered, "it is done," and showed her the sword. then she laid her finger on her lips, and led him to the prison and opened the doors, and set all the prisoners free, while the guards lay sleeping heavily, for ariadne had drugged them with wine. so they fled to their ship together, and leapt on board and hoisted up the sail, and the night lay dark around them, so that they escaped all safe, and ariadne became the wife of theseus. but that fair ariadne never came to athens with her husband. some say that, as she lay sleeping on the shore, one of the gods found her and took her up into the sky, and some say that the gods drove away theseus, and took ariadne from him by force. but, however that may be, in his haste or his grief, theseus forgot to put up the white sail. now Ægeus his father sat on the cliffs and watched day after day, and strained his old eyes across the waters to see the ship afar. and when he saw the black sail he gave up theseus for dead, and in his grief he fell into the sea and was drowned, and it is called the Ægean sea to this day. then theseus was king of athens, and he guarded it and ruled it well, and many wise things he did, so that his people honored him after he was dead, for many a hundred years, as the father of their freedom and of their laws. hercules adapted by thomas cartwright i the twelve labors of hercules hercules, the hero of strength and courage, was the son of jupiter and alcmene. his life was one long series of wonders. as soon as he was born, juno, who hated alcmene with an exceeding great hatred, went to the fates and begged them to make the life of the newly-born babe hard and perilous. the fates were three, namely, clotho who spun the thread of life, lachesis who settled the lot of gods and mortals in life, and atropos who cut the thread of life spun by clotho. when once the fates had decided what the lot of any being, whether god or man, was to be, jupiter himself could not alter their decision. it was to these fateful three, then, that juno made her prayer concerning the infant hercules. she could not, however, prevent him from having an honorable career, since it was written that he should triumph over all dangers and difficulties that might beset him. all that was conceded to her was that hercules should be put under the dominion of eurystheus, king of thebes, his eldest brother, a harsh and pitiless man. this only half satisfied the hatred of juno, but it made the life of hercules exceedingly bitter. in fact, hercules was but a child, when juno sent two enormous serpents against him. these serpents, gliding into his cradle, were on the point of biting the child when he, with his own hands, seized them and strangled the life out of their slimy bodies. having grown up to man's estate, hercules did many mighty deeds of valor that need not be recounted here. but the hatred of juno always pursued him. at length, when he had been married several years, she made him mad and impelled him in his madness to kill his own beloved children! when he came again to his sober senses, and learnt that he was the murderer of his own offspring he was filled with horror, and betook himself into exile so that he might hide his face from his fellow men. after a time he went to the oracle at delphi to ask what he should do in atonement for his dreadful deed. he was ordered to serve his brother eurystheus--who, by the help of juno, had robbed him of his kingdom--for twelve years. after this he was to become one of the immortals. eurystheus feared that hercules might use his great strength and courage against him, in punishment for the evil that he had done. he therefore resolved to banish him and to impose such tasks upon him as must certainly bring about his destruction. hence arose the famous twelve labors of hercules. eurystheus first set hercules to keep his sheep at nemea and to kill the lion that ofttimes carried off the sheep, and sometimes the shepherd also. the man-eater lurked in a wood that was hard by the sheep-run. hercules would not wait to be attacked by him. arming himself with a heavy club and with a bow and arrows, he went in search of the lion's lair and soon found it. finding that arrows and club made no impression upon the thick skin of the lion, the hero was constrained to trust entirely to his own thews and sinews. seizing the lion with both hands, he put forth all his mighty strength and strangled the beast just as he had strangled the serpents in his cradle. then, having despoiled the dead man-eater of his skin, hercules henceforth wore this trophy as a garment, and as a shield and buckler. in those days, there was in greece a monstrous serpent known as the hydra of lerna, because it haunted a marsh of that name whence it issued in search of prey. as his second labor, hercules was sent to slay this creature. this reptile had nine heads of which the midmost was immortal. when hercules struck off one of these heads with his club, two others at once appeared in its place. by the help of his servant, hercules burned off the nine heads, and buried the immortal one beneath a huge rock. the blood of the hydra was a poison so subtle that hercules, by dipping the points of his arrows therein, made them so deadly that no mortal could hope to recover from a wound inflicted by them. we shall see later that hercules himself died from the poison of one of these self-same arrows. the third labor imposed upon hercules by eurystheus was the capture of the arcadian stag. this remarkable beast had brazen feet and antlers of solid gold. hercules was to carry the stag alive to eurystheus. it proved no easy task to do this. the stag was so fleet of foot that no one had been able to approach it. for more than a year, over hill and dale, hercules pursued the beast without ever finding a chance of capturing it without killing it. at length he shot at it and wounded it with an arrow--not, you may be sure, with one of the poisoned ones--and, having caught it thus wounded, he carried it on his shoulder to his brother and thus completed the third of his labors. in the neighborhood of mount erymanthus, in arcadia, there lived, in those far-off days, a savage boar that was in the habit of sallying forth from his lair and laying waste the country round about, nor had any man been able to capture or restrain him. to free the country from the ravages of this monster was the fourth labor of hercules. having tracked the animal to his lurking place after chasing him through the deep snow, hercules caught him in a net and bore him away in triumph on his shoulders to the feet of the amazed eurystheus. augeas, king of elis, in greece, not far from mount olympus, owned a herd of oxen , in number. they were stabled in stables that had not been cleaned out for thirty years. the stench was terrible and greatly troubled the health of the land. eurystheus set hercules the task of cleaning out these augean stables in a single day! but the wit of the hero was equal to the occasion. with his great strength he diverted the flow of two rivers that ran their courses near the stables and made them flow right through the stables themselves, and lo! the nuisance that had been growing for thirty years was no more! such was the fifth labor of hercules. on an island in a lake near stymphalus, in arcadia, there nested in those days some remarkable and terrible birds--remarkable because their claws, wings and beaks were brazen, and terrible because they fed on human flesh and attacked with their terrible beaks and claws all who came near the lake. to kill these dreadful birds was the sixth labor. minerva supplied hercules with a brazen rattle with which he roused the birds from their nests, and then slew them with his poisoned arrows while they were on the wing. this victory made hercules popular throughout the whole of greece, and eurystheus saw that nothing he could devise was too hard for the hero to accomplish. the seventh labor was to capture a mad bull that the sea-god neptune had let loose in the island of crete, of which island minos was at that time king. this ferocious creature breathed out from his nostrils a whirlwind of flaming fire. but hercules was, as you no doubt have guessed, too much for the brazen bull. he not only caught the monster, but tamed him, and bore him aloft on his shoulders, into the presence of the affrighted eurystheus, who was at a loss to find a task impossible for hercules to perform. the taking of the mares of diomedes was the eighth labor. these horses were not ordinary horses, living on corn. they were flesh eaters, and moreover, they devoured human beings, and so were hateful to mankind. on this occasion hercules was not alone. he organised a hunt and, by the help of a few friends, caught the horses and led them to eurystheus. the scene of this labor was thrace, an extensive region lying between the Ægean sea, the euxine or black sea, and the danube. seizing the girdle of hippolyte was the next feat set for the hero. this labor was due to the desire of the daughter of eurystheus for the girdle of hippolyte, queen of the amazons--a tribe of female warriors. it is said that the girls had their right breasts cut off in order that they might use the bow with greater ease in battle! this, indeed, is the meaning of the term amazon, which signifies "breastless." after a troublesome journey hercules arrived safely at the court of hippolyte, who received him kindly; and this labor might, perchance, have been a bloodless one had not his old enemy juno stirred up the female warriors against him. in the fight that followed, hercules killed hippolyte--a feat scarcely to be proud of--and carried off her girdle, and thus the vanity of the daughter of eurystheus was gratified. to capture the oxen of geryon was the tenth labor of hercules. in the person of geryon we meet another of those strange beings in which the makers of myths and fairy tales seem to revel. geryon was a three-bodied monster whose cattle were kept by a giant and a two-headed dog! it is said that hercules, on his way to the performance of this tenth labor, formed the pillars of hercules--those two rocky steeps that guard the entrance to the straits of gibraltar, i.e., calpa (gibraltar) and abyla (ceuta)--by rending asunder the one mountain these two rocks are said to have formed, although now they are eighteen miles apart. hercules slew the giant, the two-headed dog and geryon himself, and in due course brought the oxen to eurystheus. sometime afterwards, eurystheus, having heard rumors of a wonderful tree which, in some unknown land, yielded golden apples, was moved with great greed to have some of this remarkable fruit. hence he commanded hercules to make the quest of this tree his eleventh labor. the hero had no notion where the tree grew, but he was bound by his bond to obey the king, so he set out and after a time reached the kingdom of atlas, king of africa. he had been told that atlas could give him news of the tree. i must tell you that king atlas, having in the olden time helped the titans in their wars against the gods, was undergoing punishment for this offence, his penance being to hold up the starry vault of heaven upon his shoulders. this means, perhaps, that in the kingdom of atlas there were some mountains so high that their summits seemed to touch the sky. hercules offered to relieve atlas of his load for a time, if he would but tell him where the famous tree was, upon which grew the golden fruit. atlas consented, and for some days hercules supported the earth and the starry vault of heaven upon his shoulders. then atlas opened the gate of the garden of the hesperides to hercules. these hesperides were none other than the three daughters of atlas, and it was their duty, in which they were helped by a dragon, to guard the golden apples. hercules killed the dragon and carried off the apples, but they were afterwards restored to their place by minerva. cerberus, as perhaps you know, was the triple-headed dog that guarded the entrance to the nether world. to bring up this three-headed monster from the land of the dead was the last of the twelve labors. it was also the hardest. pluto, the god of the nether world, told hercules he might carry off the dog if he could take him without using club or spear--never dreaming that the hero could perform such a difficult feat. hercules penetrated to the entrance of pluto's gloomy regions, and, putting forth his strength succeeded, not only in seizing cerberus, but also in carrying him to eurystheus, and so brought the twelve labors to an end, and was released from his servitude to his cruel brother. these exploits of strength and endurance do not by any means complete the tale of the wonderful doings of the great greek hero. he continued his deeds of daring to the end of his life. one of the last of his exploits was to kill the eagle that daily devoured the liver of prometheus, whose story is both curious and interesting. he is said to have been the great friend of mankind, and was chained to a rock on mount caucasus because he stole fire from heaven and gave it as a gift to the sons of man. while in chains an eagle was sent by jupiter daily to feed on prometheus's liver, which jupiter made to grow again each night. from this continuous torture he was released by hercules, who slew the eagle and burst asunder the bonds of this friend of man. ii hercules in the nether world theseus and pirithous were two athenians, who, after having been at enmity for a long time at last became the very best of friends. they, like hercules, had passed their youth in doing doughty deeds for the benefit of mankind, and their fame had spread abroad throughout the land of greece. this did not prevent them from forming a very foolish project. they actually planned to go down to hades and carry off pluto's wife, proserpina, whom pirithous himself wished to marry. this rashness brought about their ruin, for they were seized by pluto and chained to a rock. all this hercules, who was the friend of theseus, learnt while on one of his journeys, and he resolved to rescue theseus from his eternal punishment. as for pirithous, the prime mover in the attempted outrage, him hercules meant to leave to his fate. hercules had been warned to take a black dog to sacrifice to hecate and a cake to mollify cerberus, as was usual; but he would not listen to such tales and meant to force his way to theseus. when he found himself face to face with cerberus he seized him, threw him down and chained him with strong chains. the next difficulty in the way was black and muddy acheron, the first of the seven rivers that ran round hades, and formed a barrier between the living and the departed. this river had not always run under the vaults of hades. formerly its course was upon the earth. but when the titans attempted to scale the heaven, this river had the ill luck to quench their thirst, and jupiter to punish even the waters of the river for abetting his enemies, turned its course aside into the under world where its waves, slow-moving and filthy, lost themselves in styx, the largest of all the rivers of hades, which ran round pluto's gloomy kingdom no less than nine times. on reaching the banks of styx, hercules was surprised to see flying around him a crowd of disconsolate spirits, whom charon the ferryman refused to row across styx, because they could not pay him his fee of an obol, a greek coin worth about three cents of our money, which the greeks were accustomed to place in the mouths of their dead for the purpose, as they thought, of paying charon his ferry fee. fierce charon frowned when he beheld hercules for he feared his light boat of bark would sink under his weight, it being only adapted for the light and airy spirits of the dead; but when the son of jupiter told him his name he was mollified and allowed the hero to take his place at his side. as soon as the boat had touched the shore, hercules went towards the gloomy palace of pluto where he with difficulty, on account of the darkness, saw pluto seated upon an ebony throne by the side of his beloved proserpina. pluto was not at all pleased to see the hero, as he hated the living and had interest only in the shades of the dead. when hercules announced himself, however, he gave him a permit to go round his kingdom and, in addition, acceded to his prayer for the release of theseus. at the foot of pluto's throne hercules saw death the reaper. he was clothed in a black robe spotted with stars and his fleshless hand held the sharp sickle with which he is said to cut down mortals as the reaper cuts down corn. our hero was glad to escape from this dismal palace and as he did not know exactly where to find theseus he began to make the circuit of hades. during his progress he saw the shades of many people of whom, on earth, he had heard much talk. he had been wandering about some time when, in a gloomy chamber, he saw three old sisters, wan and worn, spinning by the feeble light of a lamp. they were the fates, deities whose duty it was to thread the days of all mortals who appeared on earth, were it but for an instant. clotho, the spinner of the thread of life, was the eldest of the three. she held in her hand a distaff, wound with black and white woollen yarn, with which were sparingly intermixed strands of silk and gold. the wool stood for the humdrum everyday life of man: the silk and gold marked the days of mirth and gladness, always, alas! too few in number. lachesis, the second of the fates, was quickly turning with her left hand a spindle, while her right hand was leading a fine thread which the third sister, atropos by name, used to cut with a pair of sharp shears at the death of each mortal. you may imagine how hard these three sisters worked when you remember that the thread of life of every mortal had to pass through their fateful fingers. hercules would have liked them to tell him how long they had yet to spin for him, but they had no time to answer questions and so the hero passed on. some steps farther he stopped before three venerable looking old men, seated upon a judgment seat, judging, as it seemed, a man newly come to pluto's kingdom. they were minos, Æacus and rhadamanthus, the three judges of hades, whose duty it was to punish the guilty by casting them into a dismal gulf, tartarus, whence none might ever emerge, and to reward the innocent by transporting them to the elysian fields where delight followed delight in endless pleasure. these judges could never be mistaken because themis, the goddess of justice, held in front of them a pair of scales in which she weighed the actions of men. their decrees were instantly carried out by a pitiless goddess, nemesis, or vengeance by name, armed with a whip red with the gore of her sinful victims. iii black tartarus and the elysian fields immediately on quitting the presence of the three judges, hercules saw them open out before him an immense gulf whence arose thick clouds of black smoke. this smoke hid from view a river of fire that rolled its fiery waves onwards with a deafening din. not far remote from this rolled cocytus, another endless stream, fed by the tears of the wretches doomed to black tartarus, in which place of eternal torment hercules now found himself. the rulers of these mournful regions were the furies who, with unkempt hair and armed with whips, tormented the condemned without mercy by showing them continually in mirrors the images of their former crimes. into tartarus were thrown, never to come out again, the shades or manes of traitors, ingrates, perjurers, unnatural children, murderers and hypocrites who had during their lives pretended to be upright and honorable in order to deceive the just. but these wretches were not the only denizens of black tartarus. there were to be seen great scoundrels who had startled the world with their frightful crimes. for these pluto and the furies had invented special tortures. among the criminals so justly overtaken by the divine vengeance hercules noticed salmoneus, whom he had formerly met upon earth. this madman, whose pride had overturned his reason, thought himself to be a god equal to the thunderer himself. in order to imitate remotely the rolling of thunder, he used to be driven at night, over a brazen bridge, in a chariot, whence he hurled lighted torches upon his unhappy slaves who were crowded on the bridge and whom his guards knocked down in imitation of jove's thunder-bolts. indignant at the pride and cruelty of the tyrant, jupiter struck him with lightning in deadly earnest and then cast him into the outer darkness of tartarus, where he was for ever burning without being consumed. sisyphus, the brother of salmoneus, was no better than he. when on earth, he had been the terror of attica, where, as a brigand, he had robbed and murdered with relentless cruelty. theseus, whom hercules was bent on freeing from his torment, had met and killed this robber-assassin, and jupiter, for his sins, decreed that the malefactor should continually be rolling up a hill in tartarus a heavy stone which, when with incredible pains he had brought nearly to the top, always rolled back again, and he had to begin over and over again the heart-breaking ascent. some distance from sisyphus hercules came upon tantalus, who, in the flesh, had been king of phrygia, but who now, weak from hunger and parched with thirst, was made to stand to his chin in water with branches of tempting luscious fruit hanging ripe over his head. when he essayed to drink the water it always went from him, and when he stretched out his hand to pluck the fruit, back the branches sprang out of reach. in addition an immense rock, hung over his head, threatened every moment to crush him. it is said that tantalus, when in the flesh, had betrayed the secrets of the gods and also committed other great crimes. for this he was "tantalized" with food and drink, which, seeming always to be within his reach, ever mocked his hopes by eluding his grasp. the groans of a crowd of disheveled women next attracted the affrighted attention of hercules. they were forty-nine of the fifty daughters of danaus, king of argos, who, at the instigation of their father, had killed their husbands because danaus thought they were conspiring to depose him. one only of the fifty, to wit hypermnestra, had the courage to disobey this unlawful command and so saved the life of lynceus, her husband, with whom she fled. later on lynceus returned and slew the cruel king in battle. to punish the forty-nine danaides, jupiter cast them into the outer darkness of black tartarus, where they were ever engaged in the hopeless task of pouring water into a sieve. hypermnestra, on the contrary, was honored while alive, and also after her death, for loving goodness even more than she loved her father. glutted with horror hercules at length quitted gloomy tartarus and beheld in front of him still another river. this was lethe. whoso drank the waters of this river, which separated the place of torment from the abode of the blest, lost memory of all that had been aforetime in his mind, and so was no longer troubled by even the remembrance of human misery. across lethe stretched the elysian fields where the shades of the blest dwelt in bliss without alloy. an enchanting greenness made the sweet-smelling groves as pleasant to the eye as they were to the sense of smell. sunlit, yet never parched with torrid heat, everywhere their verdure charmed the delighted eye, and all things conspired to make the shades of the good and wise, who were privileged to dwell in these elysian fields, delightfully happy. hercules saw, in these shady regions of the blest, a crowd of kings, heroes and men and women of lower degree who, while on earth, had loved and served their fellow men. having at length found and released theseus, hercules set out with him for the upper world. the two left hades by an ivory door, the key of which pluto had confided to their care. what awesome tales they had to recount to their wondering friends of the marvels of black tartarus and of radiant elysium! iv the tunic of nessus the centaur there abode in thessaly, in the days of hercules, a strange race of men who had the head and arms of a man together with the body of a horse. they were called centaurs, or bull-slayers. one of them named cheiron, famous for his knowledge of medicine, music and botany, had been the teacher of hercules. but many of them, although learned, were not good. hercules and theseus had waged war on them and had killed many, so that their numbers were greatly lessened. having married deianira, the daughter of a powerful king of calydon, in greece, hercules was traveling home with her when he came to the banks of a river and was at a loss how to cross it. seeing his perplexity, nessus, one of the centaurs, offered to take deianira on his back and carry her over the stream. this offer hercules gladly accepted. no sooner, however, did the crafty centaur obtain possession of deianira than he made off with her, intending to have her as his own wife. you can easily imagine how angry this outrage made hercules. he shot one of his poisoned arrows with so much force that it went right through the traitor centaur, and wounded him even unto death. but, before dying, nessus had time to tell deianira that if she wanted to keep hercules always true to her she had but to take his shirt, and, when her husband's love was waning, prevail on him to wear it. deianira took the shirt, and shortly afterwards, being afraid that her husband was ceasing to love her, she sent it to him as a present. now, you will remember that hercules had shot through the shirt of nessus one of his poisoned arrows, and you will not be surprised to hear that some of the poison had remained in the shirt. so when hercules put it on, which he did immediately upon receiving it, he was seized with frenzy and, in his madness, he uttered terrible cries and did dreadful deeds. with his powerful hands he broke off huge pieces of rock, tore up pine-trees by their roots and hurled them with resounding din into the valley. he could not take off the fatal shirt, and as he tore off portions of it he tore, at the same time, his quivering flesh. the servant of deianira who had carried him the fatal shirt, and who wished to solace him in his pain, he seized as she approached him and flung headlong into the sea, where she was changed into a rock that long, so runs the legend, kept its human form. but at length the majesty and the courage of the hero asserted themselves, and, although still in agony, his madness left him. calling to his side his friend philoctetes, he wished to embrace him once more before dying; but fearful lest he should, in so doing, infect his friend with the deadly poison that was consuming him, he cried in his agony: "alas, i am not even permitted to embrace thee!" then he gathered together the trees he had uprooted and made a huge funeral pyre, such as was used by the ancients in burning their dead. climbing to the top of the heap, he spread out the skin of the nemean lion, and, supporting himself upon his club, gave the signal for philoctetes to kindle the fire that was to reduce him to ashes. in return for this service he gave philoctetes a quiver full of those deadly arrows that had been dipped in the blood of the hydra of lerna. he further enjoined his friend to let no man know of his departure from life, to the intent that the fear of his approach might prevent fresh monsters and new robbers from ravaging the earth. thus died hercules, and after his death he was received as a god amongst the immortals on mount olympus, where he married hebe, jove's cupbearer. in his honor mortals were commanded to build altars and to raise temples. the perilous voyage of Æneas adapted by alice zimmekn once upon a time, nearly three thousand years ago, the city of troy in asia minor was at the height of its prosperity. it was built on a fortified hill on the southern slopes of the hellespont, and encircled by strong walls that the gods had helped to build. through their favor troy became so strong and powerful that she subdued many of the neighboring states and forced them to fight for her and do her bidding. thus it happened that when the greeks came to asia with an army of , men, troy was able to hold out against them for nine years, and in the tenth was only taken by a trick. in the "iliad" of homer you may read all about the quarrel between the trojans and greeks, the fighting before troy and the brave deeds done by hector and achilles, and many other heroes. you will see there how the gods took part in the quarrel, and how juno, who was the wife of jupiter and queen of heaven, hated troy because paris had given the golden apple to venus as the fairest among goddesses. juno never forgave this insult to her beauty, and vowed that she would not rest till the hated city was destroyed and its very name wiped from the face of the earth. you shall now hear how she carried out her threat, and overwhelmed Æneas with disasters. after a siege that lasted ten years troy was taken at last by means of the wooden horse, which the trojans foolishly dragged into the city with their own hands. inside it were hidden a number of greeks, who were thus carried into the heart of the enemy's city. the trojans celebrated the departure of the greeks by feasting and drinking far into the night; but when at last they retired to rest, the greeks stole out of their hiding-place, and opened the gates to their army, which had only pretended to withdraw. before the trojans had recovered their wits the town was full of enemies, who threw blazing torches on the houses and killed every citizen who fell into their hands. among the many noble princes who fought against the greeks none was braver and handsomer than Æneas. his mother was the goddess venus, and his father a brave and powerful prince named anchises, while creusa, his wife, was one of king priam's daughters. on that dreadful night, when the greeks were burning and killing in the very streets of troy, Æneas lay sleeping in his palace when there appeared to him a strange vision. he thought that hector stood before him carrying the images of the trojan gods and bade him arise and leave the doomed city. "to you troy entrusts her gods and her fortunes. take these images, and go forth beyond the seas, and with their auspices found a new troy on foreign shores." roused from his slumbers Æneas sprang up in haste, put on his armor and rushed into the fray. he was joined by a few comrades, and together they made their way through the enemy, killing all who blocked their path. but when they reached the royal palace and found that the greeks had already forced their way in and killed the aged man by his own hearth, Æneas remembered his father and his wife and his little son ascanius. since he could not hope to save the city he might at least take thought for his own kin. while he still hesitated whether to retire or continue the fight, his goddess mother appeared and bade him go and succor his household. "your efforts to save the city are vain," she said. "the gods themselves make war on troy. juno stands by the gate urging on the greeks, jupiter supplies them with hope and courage, and neptune is breaking down with his trident the walls he helped to raise. fly, my son, fly. i will bring you safely to your own threshold." guided by her protecting hand, Æneas came in safety to his palace, and bade his family prepare in all haste for flight. but his father refused to stir a step. "let me die here at the enemy's hands," he implored. "better thus than to go into exile in my old age. do you go, my son, whither the gods summon you, and leave me to my fate." in vain Æneas reasoned and pleaded, in vain he refused to go without his father; neither prayers nor entreaties would move anchises till the gods sent him a sign. suddenly the child's hair burst into flames. the father and mother were terrified, but anchises recognised the good omen, and prayed the gods to show whether his interpretation was the true one. in answer there came a clap of thunder and a star flashed across the sky and disappeared among the woods on mount ida. then anchises was sure that the token was a true one. "delay no more!" he cried. "i will accompany you, and go in hope wheresoever the gods of my country shall lead me. this is a sign from heaven, and the gods, if it be their will, may yet preserve our city." "come then, father!" cried Æneas joyfully. "let me take you on my back, for your feeble limbs would move too slowly for the present danger. you shall hold the images of the gods, since it would be sacrilege for me to touch them with my blood-stained hands. little ascanius shall take my hand, and creusa will follow us closely." he now ordered the servants to collect all the most valuable possessions, and bring them to him at the temple of ceres, just outside the city. then he set out with father, wife and son, and they groped their way through the city by the light of burning homesteads. thus they passed at last through the midst of the enemy, and reached the temple of ceres. there, to his dismay, Æneas missed creusa. he rushed back to the city and made his way to his own house. he found it in flames, and the enemy were sacking the ruins. nowhere could he find a trace of his wife. wild with grief and anxiety he wandered at random through the city till suddenly he fancied he saw creusa. but it was her ghost, not her living self. she spoke to her distracted husband and bade him grieve no more. "think not," she said, "that this has befallen without the will of the gods. the fates have decided that creusa shall not follow you to your new home. there are long and weary wanderings before you, and you must traverse many stormy seas before you come to the western land where the river tiber pours its gentle stream through the fertile pastures of italy. there shall you find a kingdom and a royal bride. cease then to mourn for creusa." Æneas tried to clasp her in his arms, but in vain, for he only grasped the empty air. then he understood that the gods desired him to go forth into the world alone. while Æneas was seeking creusa a group of trojans who had escaped the enemy and the flames had collected at the temple of ceres, and he found them ready and willing to join him and follow his fortunes. the first rays of the sun were touching the peaks of ida when aeneas and his comrades turned their backs on the ill-fated city, and went towards the rising sun and the new hope. for several months Æneas and his little band of followers lived as refugees among the hills of ida, and their numbers grew as now one, now another, came to join them. all through the winter they were hard at work cutting down trees and building ships, which were to carry them across the seas. when spring came the fleet was ready, and the little band set sail. first they merely crossed the hellespont to thrace, for aeneas hoped to found a city here and revive the name of troy. but bad omens came to frighten the trojans and drive them back to their ships. they now took a southward course, and sailed on without stopping till they reached delos, the sacred isle of apollo. here aeneas entered the temple and offered prayer to the lord of prophecy. "grant us a home, apollo, grant us an abiding city. preserve a second troy for the scanty remnant that escaped the swords of the greeks and the wrath of cruel achilles. tell us whom to follow, whither to turn, where to found our city." his prayer was not offered in vain, for a voice spoke in answer. "ye hardy sons of dardanus, the land that erst sent forth your ancestral race shall welcome you back to its fertile fields. go and seek your ancient mother. there shall the offspring of Æneas rule over all the lands, and their children's children unto the furthest generations." when he had heard this oracle, anchises said, "in the middle of the sea lies an island called crete, which is sacred to jupiter. there we shall find an older mount ida, and beside it the cradle of our race. thence, if tradition speaks truth, our great ancestor teucrus set sail for asia and there he founded his kingdom, and named our mountain ida. let us steer our course therefore to crete, and if jupiter be propitious, the third dawn will bring us to its shores." accordingly they set out again full of hope, and passed in and out again among the gleaming islands of the Ægean, till at last they came to crete. there they disembarked, and began to build a city. the houses were rising, the citadel was almost ready, the fields were planted and sown, and the young men were seeking wives, when suddenly the crops were stricken by a blight and the men by a pestilence. surely, they thought, this could not be the home promised them by apollo. in this distress anchises bade his son return to delos and implore the gods to vouchsafe further counsel. at night Æneas lay down to rest, troubled by many anxieties, when suddenly he was roused by the moonlight streaming through the window and illuminating the images of the trojan gods. it seemed as though they opened their lips and spoke to him. "all that apollo would have told you at delos, we may declare to you here, for he has given us a message to you. we followed your arms after the burning of troy, and traversed the ocean under your guidance, and we shall raise your descendants to the stars and give dominion to their city. but do not seek it here. these are not the shores that apollo assigns you, nor may crete be your abiding place. far to the west lies the land which the greeks called hesperia, but which now bears the name of italy. there is our destined home; thence came dardanus, our great ancestor and the father of our race." amazed at this vision, Æneas sprang up and lifted his hands to heaven in prayer. then he hastened to tell anchises of this strange event. they resolved to tarry no longer, but turning their backs on the rising walls they drew their ships down to the sea again, and once more set forth in search of a new country. now they sailed towards the west, and rounded the south of greece into the ionian sea. but a storm drove them out of their course, and the darkness was so thick that they could not tell night from day, and the helmsman, palinurus, knew not whither he was steering. thus they were tossed about aimlessly for three days and nights, till at last they saw land ahead and, lowering their sails, rowed safely into a quiet harbor. not a human being was in sight, but herds of cattle grazed on the pastures, and goats sported untended on the rocks. here was even food in plenty for hungry men. they killed oxen and goats, and made ready a feast for themselves, and a sacrifice for the gods. the repast was prepared, and Æneas and his comrades were about to enjoy it, when a sound of rustling wings was heard all round them. horrible creatures, half birds, half women, with long talons and cruel beaks, swooped down on the tables and carried off the food before the eyes of the terrified banqueters. these were the harpies, who had once been sent to plague king phineus, and when they were driven away by two of the argonauts, zetes and calais, took refuge in these islands. in vain the trojans attacked them with their swords, for the monsters would fly out of reach, and then dart back again on a sudden, and pounce once more on the food, while celæno, chief of the harpies, perched on a rock and chanted in hoarse tones a prophecy of ill omen. "you that kill our oxen and seek to drive us from our rightful home, hearken to my words, which jupiter declared to apollo, and apollo told even to me. you are sailing to italy, and you shall reach italy and enter its harbors. but you are not destined to surround your city with a wall, till cruel hunger and vengeance for the wrong you have done us force you to gnaw your very tables with your teeth." when the trojans heard this terrible prophecy their hearts sank within them, and anchises, lifting his hands to heaven, besought the gods to avert this grievous doom. thus, full of sad forebodings, they returned to their ships. their way now lay along the western coast of greece, and they were glad to slip unnoticed past the rocky island of ithaca, the home of ulysses the wily. for they did not know that he was still held captive by the nymph calypso, and that many years were to pass before he should be restored to his kingdom. they next cast anchor off leucadia, and passed the winter in these regions. in spring they sailed north again, and landed in epirus, and here to their surprise they found helenus, one of the sons of priam, ruling over a greek people. he welcomed his kinsman joyfully and, having the gift of prophecy from apollo, foretold the course of his wanderings. "italy, which you deem so near, is a far-distant land, and many adventures await you before you reach that shore where lies your destined home. before you reach it, you will visit sicily, and the realms of the dead and the island of circe. but i will give you a sign whereby you may know the appointed place. when by the banks of a secluded stream you shall see a huge white sow with her thirty young ones, then shall you have reached the limit of your wanderings. be sure to avoid the eastern coast of italy opposite these shores. wicked greek tribes have their dwelling there, and it is safer to pass at once to the western coast. on your left, you will hear in the strait the thundering roar of charybdis, and on the right grim scylla sits scowling in her cave ready to spring on the unwary traveler. better take a long circuit round sicily than come even within sight and sound of scylla. as soon as you touch the western shores of italy, go to the city of cumæ and the sibyl's cavern. try to win her favor, and she will tell you of the nations of italy and the wars yet to come, and how you may avoid each peril and accomplish every labor. one warning would i give you and enjoin it with all my power. if you desire to reach your journey's end in safety, forget not to do homage to juno. offer up prayers to her divinity, load her altars with gifts. then, and then only, may you hope for a happy issue from all your troubles!" so once more the trojans set sail, and obedient to the warnings of helenus they avoided the eastern coast of italy, and struck southward towards sicily. far up the channel they heard the roar of charybdis and hastened their speed in fear. soon the snowy cone of etna came into view with its column of smoke rising heavenward. as they lay at anchor hard by, a ragged, half-starved wretch ran out of the woods calling loudly on Æneas for succor. this was one of the comrades of ulysses, who had been left behind by mistake, and lived in perpetual dread of the savage cyclôpes. Æneas was moved to pity, and though the man was a greek and an enemy, he took him on board and gave him food and succor. before they left this place they had a glimpse of polyphemus himself. the blind giant came down the cliff with his flock, feeling his way with a huge staff of pine-trunk. he even stepped into the sea, and walked far out without wetting his thighs. the trojans hastily slipped their cables, and made away. polyphemus heard the sound of their oars, and called his brother cyclôpes to come and seize the strangers, but they were too late to overtake the fugitives. after this they continued their southward course, passing the island where syracuse now stands, and rounding the southern coast of sicily. then they sailed past the tall rock of acragas and palm-loving selinus, and so came to the western corner, where the harbor of drepanun gave them shelter. here a sorrow overtook Æneas, that neither the harpy nor the seer had foretold. anchises, weary with wandering and sick of long-deferred hope, fell ill and died. sadly Æneas sailed from hence without his trusted friend and counselor, and steered his course for italy. at last the goal seemed at hand and the dangers of the narrow strait had been escaped. but Æneas had a far more dangerous enemy than scylla and charybdis, for juno's wrath was not yet appeased. he had offered prayer and sacrifice, as helenus bade him, but her long-standing grudge was not so easily forgotten. she hated troy and the trojans with an undying hatred, and would not suffer even these few-storm-tossed wanderers to seek their new home in peace. she knew too that it was appointed by the fates that a descendant of this fugitive trojan should one day found a city destined to eclipse in wealth and glory her favorite city of carthage. this she desired to avert at all costs, and if even the queen of heaven was not strong enough to overrule fate, at least she resolved that the trojans should not enter into their inheritance without many and grievous tribulations. off the northerncoast of sicily lies a group of small islands, still called the Æolian isles, after Æolus, king of the winds, whose palace stood upon the largest. here he lived in a rock-bound castle, and kept the boisterous winds fast bound in strong dungeons, that they might not go forth unbidden to work havoc and destruction. but for his restraining hand they would have burst forth and swept away land and sea in their fury. to this rocky fortress juno came with a request to Æolus. "men of a race hateful to me are now crossing the sea. i beseech you, therefore, send a storm to scatter the ships and drown the men in the waves. as a reward i will give you one of my fairest nymphs in marriage." thus she urged, and at her bidding Æolus struck the rock and the prison gates were opened. the winds at once rushed forth in all directions. the clouds gathered and blotted out sky and daylight, thunder roared and lightning flashed, and the trojans thought their last hour had come. even Æneas lost heart, and envied the lot of those who fell before troy by the sword of diomede. soon a violent gust struck his ship, the oars were broken, and the prow turned round and exposed the side to the waves. the water closed over it, then opened again, and drew down the vessel, leaving the men floating on the water. three ships were dashed against sunken rocks, three were driven among the shallows and blocked with a mound of sand. another was struck from stem to stern, then sucked down into a whirlpool. one after another the rest succumbed, and it seemed as if each moment must see their utter destruction. meantime neptune in his palace at the bottom of the sea had noticed the sudden disturbance of the waters, and now put out his head above the waves to learn the cause of this commotion. when he saw the shattered trojan ships he guessed that this was juno's work. instantly he summoned the winds and chid them for daring to disturb the waters without his leave. "begone," he said, "and tell your master Æolus that the dominion of the sea is mine, not his. let him be content to keep guard over you and see that you do not escape from your prison." while he spoke neptune was busy calming the waters, and it was not long before he put the clouds to flight and brought back the sunshine. nymphs came to push the ships off the rocks, and neptune himself opened a way out of the shallows. then he returned to his chariot, and his white horses carried him lightly across the calm waters. thankful to have saved a few of his ships, all shattered and leaking as they were, Æneas bade the helmsman steer for the nearest land. what was their joy to see within easy reach a quiet harbor closed in by a sheltering island. the entrance was guarded by twin cliffs, and a forest background closed in the scene. once within this shelter the weary vessels needed no anchor to secure them. here at last Æneas and his comrades could stretch their aching limbs on dry land. they kindled a fire of leaves with a flint, and dried their sodden corn for a scanty meal. Æneas now climbed one of the hills to see whether he might catch a glimpse of any of the missing ships. not a sail was in sight, but in the valley below he spied a herd of deer grazing. here was better food for hungry men. drawing an arrow from his quiver, he fitted it to his bow, let fly, and a mighty stag fell to his aim. six others shared its fate, then Æneas returned with his booty and bade his friends make merry with venison and sicilian wine from the ships. as they ate and drank, he tried to hearten the trojans. "endure a little longer," he urged. "think of the perils through which we have passed, remember the dreadful cyclôpes and cruel scylla. despair not now, for one day the memory of past sufferings shall delight your hours of ease. through toils and hardships we are making our way to latium, where the gods have promised us a peaceful home and a new and glorious troy. hold out a little while, and wait for the happy days in store." how horatius held the bridge adapted by alfred j. church king tarquin[ ] and his son lucius (for he only remained to him of the three) fled to lars porsenna, king of clusium, and besought him that he would help them. "suffer not," they said, "that we, who are tuscans by birth, should remain any more in poverty and exile. and take heed also to thyself and thine own kingdom if thou permit this new fashion of driving forth kings to go unpunished. for surely there is that in freedom which men greatly desire, and if they that be kings defend not their dignity as stoutly as others seek to overthrow it, then shall the highest be made even as the lowest, and there shall be an end of kingship, than which there is nothing more honorable under heaven." with these words they persuaded king porsenna, who judging it well for the etrurians that there should be a king at rome, and that king an etrurian by birth, gathered together a great army and came up against rome. but when men heard of his coming, so mighty a city was clusium in those days, and so great the fame of king porsenna, there was such fear as had never been before. nevertheless they were steadfastly purposed to hold out. and first all that were in the country fled into the city, and round about the city they set guards to keep it, part thereof being defended by walls, and part, for so it seemed, being made safe by the river. but here a great peril had well-nigh over-taken the city; for there was a wooden bridge on the river by which the enemy had crossed but for the courage of a certain horatius cocles. the matter fell out in this wise. [footnote : king tarquin had been driven from rome because of his tyranny.] there was a certain hill which men called janiculum on the side of the river, and this hill king porsenna took by a sudden attack. which when horatius saw (for he chanced to have been set to guard the bridge, and saw also how the enemy were running at full speed to the place, and how the romans were fleeing in confusion and threw away their arms as they ran), he cried with a loud voice, "men of rome, it is to no purpose that ye thus leave your post and flee, for if ye leave this bridge behind you for men to pass over, ye shall soon find that ye have more enemies in your city than in janiculum. do ye therefore break it down with axe and fire as best ye can. in the meanwhile i, so far as one man may do, will stay the enemy." and as he spake he ran forward to the farther end of the bridge and made ready to keep the way against the enemy. nevertheless there stood two with him, lartius and herminius by name, men of noble birth both of them and of great renown in arms. so these three for a while stayed the first onset of the enemy; and the men of rome meanwhile brake down the bridge. and when there was but a small part remaining, and they that brake it down called to the three that they should come back, horatius bade lartius and herminius return, but he himself remained on the farther side, turning his eyes full of wrath in threatening fashion on the princes of the etrurians, and crying, "dare ye now to fight with me? or why are ye thus come at the bidding of your master, king porsenna, to rob others of the freedom that ye care not to have for yourselves?" for a while they delayed, looking each man to his neighbor, who should first deal with this champion of the romans. then, for very shame, they all ran forward, and raising a great shout, threw their javelins at him. these all he took upon his shield, nor stood the less firmly in his place on the bridge, from which when they would have thrust him by force, of a sudden the men of rome raised a great shout, for the bridge was now altogether broken down, and fell with a great crash into the river. and as the enemy stayed a while for fear, horatius turned him to the river and said, "o father tiber, i beseech thee this day with all reverence that thou kindly receive this soldier and his arms." and as he spake he leapt with all his arms into the river and swam across to his own people, and though many javelins of the enemy fell about him, he was not one whit hurt. nor did such valor fail to receive due honor from the city. for the citizens set up a statue of horatius in the market-place; and they gave him of the public land so much as he could plow about in one day. also there was this honor paid him, that each citizen took somewhat of his own store and gave it to him, for food was scarce in the city by reason of the siege. how cincinnatus saved rome adapted by alfred j. church it came to pass that the Æquians brake the treaty of peace which they had made with rome, and, taking one gacchus cloelius for their leader, marched into the land of tusculum; and when they had plundered the country there-abouts, and had gathered together much booty, they pitched their camp on mount Ægidus. to them the romans sent three ambassadors, who should complain of the wrong done and seek redress. but when they would have fulfilled their errand, gracchus the Æquin spake, saying, "if ye have any message from the senate of rome, tell it to this oak, for i have other business to do;" for it chanced that there was a great oak that stood hard by, and made a shadow over the general's tent. then one of the ambassadors, as he turned to depart, made reply, "yes, let this sacred oak and all the gods that are in heaven hear how ye have wrongfully broken the treaty of peace; and let them that hear help us also in the day of battle, when we shall avenge on you the laws both of gods and of men that ye set at nought." when the ambassadors had returned to rome the senate commanded that there should be levied two armies; and that minucius the consul should march with the one against the Æquians on mount Ægidus, and that the other should hinder the enemy from their plundering. this levying the tribunes of the commons sought to hinder; and perchance had done so, but there also came well-nigh to the walls of the city a great host of the sabines plundering all the country. thereupon the people willingly offered themselves and there were levied forthwith two great armies. nevertheless when the consul minucius had marched to mount Ægidus, and had pitched his camp not far from the Æquians, he did nought for fear of the enemy, but kept himself within his entrenchments. and when the enemy perceived that he was afraid, growing the bolder for his lack of courage, they drew lines about him, keeping him in on every side. yet before that he was altogether shut up there escaped from his camp five horsemen, that bare tidings to rome how that the consul, together with his army, was besieged. the people were sorely dismayed to hear such tidings; nor, when they cast about for help, saw they any man that might be sufficient for such peril, save only cincinnatus. by common consent, therefore, he was made dictator for six months, a thing that may well be noted by those who hold that nothing is to be accounted of in comparison of riches, and that no man may win great honor or show forth singular virtue unless he be well furnished with wealth. for here in this great peril of the roman people there was no hope of safety but in one who was cultivating with his own hand a little plot of scarcely three acres of ground. for when the messengers of the people came to him they found him plowing, or, as some say, digging a ditch. when they had greeted each other, the messengers said, "may the gods prosper this thing to the roman people and to thee. put on thy robe and hear the words of the people." then said cincinnatus, being not a little astonished, "is all well?" and at the same time he called to his wife racilia that she should bring forth his robe from the cottage. so she brought it forth, and the man wiped from him the dust and the sweat, and clad himself in his robe, and stood before the messengers. these said to him, "the people of rome make thee dictator, and bid thee come forthwith to the city." and at the same time they told how the consul and his army were besieged by the Æquians. so cincinnatus departed to rome; and when he came to the other side of the tiber there met him first his three sons, and next many of his kinsfolk and friends, and after them a numerous company of the nobles. these all conducted him to his house, the lictors, four and twenty in number, marching before him. there was also assembled a very great concourse of the people, fearing much how the dictator might deal with them, for they knew what manner of man he was, and that there was no limit to his power, nor any appeal from him. the next day, before dawn, the dictator came into the market-place, and appointed one lucius tarquinius to be master of the horse. this tarquinius was held by common consent to excel all other men in exercises of war; only, though, being a noble by birth, he should have been among the horsemen, he had served for lack of means, as a foot soldier. this done he called an assembly of the people and commanded that all the shops in the city should be shut; that no man should concern himself with any private business, but all that were of an age to go to the war should be present before sunset in the field of mars, each man having with him provisions of cooked food for five days, and twelve stakes. as for them that were past the age, they should prepare the food while the young men made ready their arms and sought for the stakes. these last they took as they found them, no man hindering them; and when the time appointed by the dictator was come, all were assembled, ready, as occasion might serve, either to march or to give battle. forthwith they set out, the dictator leading the foot soldiers by their legions, and tarquinius the horsemen, and each bidding them that followed make all haste. "we must needs come," they said, "to our journey's end while it is yet night. remember that the consul and his army have been besieged now for three days, and that no man knows what a day or a night may bring forth." the soldiers themselves also were zealous to obey, crying out to the standard-bearers that they should quicken their steps, and to their fellows that they should not lag behind. thus they came at midnight to mount Ædigus, and when they perceived that the enemy was at hand they halted the standards. then the dictator rode forward to see, so far as the darkness would suffer him, how great was the camp of the Æquians and after what fashion it was pitched. this done he commanded that the baggage should be gathered together into a heap, and that the soldiers should stand every man in his own place. after this he compassed about the whole army of the enemy with his own army, and commanded that at a set signal every man should shout, and when they had shouted should dig a trench and set up therein the stakes. this the soldiers did, and the noise of the shouting passed over the camp of the enemy and came into the city, causing therein great joy, even as it caused great fear in the camp. for the romans cried, "these be our countrymen and they bring us help." then said the consul, "we must make no delay. by that shout is signified, not that they are come only, but that they are already dealing with the enemy. doubtless the camp of the Æquians is even now assailed from without. take ye your arms and follow me." so the legion went forth, it being yet night, to the battle, and as they went they shouted, that the dictator might be aware. now the Æquians had set themselves to hinder the making of a ditch and rampart which should shut them in; but when the romans from the camp fell upon them, fearing lest these should make their way through the midst of their camp, they left them that were with cincinnatus to finish their entrenching, and fought with the consul. and when it was now light, lo! they were already shut in, and the romans, having finished their entrenching, began to trouble them. and when the Æquians perceived that the battle was now on either side of them, they could withstand no longer, but sent ambassadors praying for peace, and saying, "ye have prevailed; slay us not, but rather permit us to depart, leaving our arms behind us." then said the dictator, "i care not to have the blood of the Æquians. ye may depart, but ye shall depart passing under the yoke, that ye may thus acknowledge to all men that ye are indeed vanquished." now the yoke is thus made. there are set up in the ground two spears, and over them is bound by ropes a third spear. so the Æquians passed under the yoke. in the camp of the enemy there was found abundance of spoil. this the dictator gave wholly to his own soldiers. "ye were well-nigh a spoil to the enemy," said he to the army of the consul, "therefore ye shall have no share in the spoiling of them. as for thee, minucius, be thou a lieutenant only till thou hast learnt how to bear thyself as a consul." meanwhile at rome there was held a meeting of the senate, at which it was commanded that cincinnatus should enter the city in triumph, his soldiers following him in order of march. before his chariot there were led the generals of the enemy; also the standards were carried in the front; and after these came the army, every man laden with spoil. that day there was great rejoicing in the city, every man setting forth a banquet before his doors in the street. after this, virginius, that had borne false witness against cæso, was found guilty of perjury, and went into exile. and when cincinnatus saw that justice had been done to this evildoer, he resigned his dictatorship, having held it for sixteen days only. heroes of great britain beowulf adapted by h.e. marshall i how beowulf overcame the ogre and the water-witch long ago, there lived in daneland a king, beloved of all, called hrothgar. he was valiant and mighty in war, overcoming all his foes and taking from them much spoil. looking upon his great treasure, king hrothgar said, "i will build me a great hall. it shall be vast and wide, adorned within and without with gold and ivory, with gems and carved work. it shall be a hall of joy and feasting." then king hrothgar called his workmen and gave them commandment to build the hall. they set to work, and becoming each day more fair, the hall was at length finished. it stood upon a height, vast and stately, and as it was adorned with the horns of deer, king hrothgar named it hart hall. the king made a great feast. to it his warriors young and old were called, and he divided his treasure, giving to each rings of gold. and so in the hall there was laughter and song and great merriment. every evening when the shadows fell, and the land grew dark without, the knights and warriors gathered in the hall to feast. and when the feast was over, and the great fire roared upon the hearth, the minstrel took his harp and sang. far over dreary fen and moorland the light glowed cheerfully, and the sound of song and harp awoke the deep silence of the night. within the hall was light and gladness, but without there was wrath and hate. for far on the moor there lived a wicked giant named grendel, prowling at night to see what evil he might do. very terrible was this ogre grendel to look upon. thick black hair hung about his face, and his teeth were long and sharp, like the tusks of an animal. his huge body and great hairy arms had the strength of ten men. he wore no armor, for his skin was tougher than any coat of mail that man or giant might weld. his nails were like steel and sharper than daggers, and by his side there hung a great pouch in which he carried off those whom he was ready to devour. day by day the music of harp and song was a torture to him and made him more and more mad with jealous hate. at length he crept through the darkness to hart hall where the warriors slept after feast and song. arms and armor had been thrown aside, so with ease the ogre slew thirty of the bravest. howling with wicked joy he carried them off and devoured them. the next night, again the wicked one crept stealthily through the darkening moorland until he reached hart hall, stretched forth his hand, and seized the bravest of the warriors. in the morning each man swore that he would not again sleep beneath the roof of the hall. for twelve years it stood thus, no man daring, except in the light of day, to enter it. and now it came to pass that across the sea in far gothland the tale of grendel and his wrath was carried to beowulf the goth, who said he would go to king hrothgar to help him. taking with him fifteen good comrades, he set sail for daneland. when hrothgar was told that beowulf had come to help him, he said, "i knew him when he was yet a lad. his father and his mother have i known. truly he hath sought a friend. i have heard that he is much renowned in war, and hath the strength of thirty men in the grip of his hand. i pray heaven he hath been sent to free us from the horror of grendel. bid beowulf and his warriors to enter." guided by the danish knight, beowulf and his men went into hart hall and stood before the aged hrothgar. after friendly words of greeting beowulf said, "and now will i fight against grendel, bearing neither sword nor shield. with my hands alone will i grapple with the fiend, and foe to foe we will fight for victory." that night beowulf's comrades slept in hart hall. beowulf alone remained awake. out of the mists of the moorland the evil thing strode. loud he laughed as he gazed upon the sleeping warriors. beowulf, watchful and angry, curbed his wrath. grendel seized one of the men, drank his blood, crushed his bones, and swallowed his horrid feast. then beowulf caught the monster and fought till the noise of the contest was as of thunder. the knights awoke and tried to plunge their swords into the hide of grendel, but in vain. by enchantments he had made himself safe. at length the fight came to an end. the sinews in grendel's shoulder burst, the bones cracked. the ogre tore himself free, leaving his arm in beowulf's mighty grip. sobbing forth his death-song, grendel fled till he reached his dwelling in the lake of the water-dragons, and there plunged in. the dark waves closed over him and he sank to his home. loud were the songs of triumph in hart hall, great the rejoicing, for beowulf had made good his boast. he had cleansed the hall of the ogre. a splendid feast was made and much treasure given to beowulf by the king and queen. again did the dane lords sleep in the great hall, but far away in the water-dragons' lake the mother of grendel wept over the dead body of her son, desiring revenge. very terrible to look upon was this water-witch. as the darkness fell she crept across the moorland to hart hall. in she rushed eager for slaughter. a wild cry rang through the hall. the water-witch fled, but in doing so carried off the best beloved of all the king's warriors. quickly was beowulf called and he rode forth to the dark lake. down and down he dived till he came to the cave of the water-witch whom he killed after a desperate struggle. hard by on a couch lay the body of grendel. drawing his sword he smote off the ogre's head. swimming up with it he reached the surface and sprang to land, and was greeted by his faithful thanes. four of them were needed to carry the huge head back to hart hall. his task being done beowulf made haste to return to his own land that he might seek his own king, hygelac, and lay before him the treasures that hrothgar had given him. with gracious words the old king thanked the young warrior, and bade him to come again right speedily. hygelac listened with wonder and delight to all that had happened in daneland and graciously received the splendid gifts. for many years beowulf lived beloved of all, and when it befell that hygelac died in battle, the broad realm of gothland was given unto beowulf to rule. and there for fifty years he reigned a well-loved king. ii how the fire dragon warred with the goth folk and now when many years had come and gone and the realm had long time been at peace, sorrow came upon the people of the goths. and thus it was that the evil came. it fell upon a time that a slave by his misdeeds roused his master's wrath, and when his lord would have punished him he fled in terror. and as he fled trembling to hide himself, he came by chance into a great cave. there the slave hid, thankful for refuge. but soon he had cause to tremble in worse fear than before, for in the darkness of the cave he saw that a fearful dragon lay asleep. then as the slave gazed in terror at the awful beast, he saw that it lay guarding a mighty treasure. never had he seen such a mass of wealth. swords and armor inlaid with gold, cups and vessels of gold and silver set with precious stones, rings and bracelets lay piled around in glittering heaps. for hundreds of years this treasure had lain there in secret. a great prince had buried it in sorrow for his dead warriors. in his land there had been much fighting until he alone of all his people was left. then in bitter grief he gathered all his treasure and hid it in this cave. "take, o earth," he cried, "what the heroes might not keep. lo! good men and true once before earned it from thee. now a warlike death hath taken away every man of my people. there is none now to bear the sword or receive the cup. there is no more joy in the battle-field or in the hall of peace. so here shall the gold-adorned helmet molder, here the coat of mail rust and the wine-cup lie empty." thus the sad prince mourned. beside his treasure he sat weeping both day and night until death took him also, and of all his people there was none left. so the treasure lay hidden and secret for many a day. then upon a time it happened that a great dragon, fiery-eyed and fearful, as it flew by night and prowled seeking mischief, came upon the buried hoard. as men well know, a dragon ever loveth gold. so to guard his new-found wealth lest any should come to rob him of it, he laid him down there and the cave became his dwelling. thus for three hundred years he lay gloating over his treasure, no man disturbing him. but now at length it chanced that the fleeing slave lighted upon the hoard. his eyes were dazzled by the shining heap. upon it lay a cup of gold, wondrously chased and adorned. "if i can but gain that cup," said the slave to himself, "i will return with it to my master, and for the sake of the gold he will surely forgive me." so while the dragon slept, trembling and fearful the slave crept nearer and nearer to the glittering mass. when he came quite near he reached forth his hand and seized the cup. then with it he fled back to his master. it befell then as the slave had foreseen. for the sake of the wondrous cup his misdeeds were forgiven him. but when the dragon awoke his fury was great. well knew he that mortal man had trod his cave and stolen of his hoard. round and round about he sniffed and searched until he discovered the footprints of his foe. eagerly then all over the ground he sought to find the man who, while he slept, had done him this ill. hot and fierce of mood he went backwards and forwards round about his treasure-heaps. all within the cave he searched in vain. then coming forth he searched without. all round the hill in which his cave was he prowled, but no man could he find, nor in all the wilds around was there any man. again the old dragon returned, again he searched among his treasure-heap for the precious cup. nowhere was it to be found. it was too surely gone. but the dragon, as well as loving gold, loved war. so now in angry mood he lay couched in his lair. scarce could he wait until darkness fell, such was his wrath. with fire he was resolved to repay the loss of his dear drinking-cup. at last, to the joy of the great winged beast, the sun sank. then forth from his cave he came, flaming fire. spreading his mighty wings, he flew through the air until he came to the houses of men. then spitting forth flame, he set fire to many a happy homestead. wherever the lightning of his tongue struck, there fire flamed forth, until where the fair homes of men had been there was naught but blackened ruins. here and there, this way and that, through all the land he sped, and wherever he passed fire flamed aloft. the warfare of the dragon was seen from far. the malice of the worm was known from north to south, from east to west. all men knew how the fearful foe hated and ruined the goth folk. then having worked mischief and desolation all night through, the fire-dragon turned back; to his secret cave he slunk again ere break of day. behind him he left the land wasted and desolate. the dragon had no fear of the revenge of man. in his fiery warfare he trusted to find shelter in his hill, and in his secret cave. but in that trust he was misled. speedily to king beowulf were the tidings of the dragon and his spoiling carried. for alas! even his own fair palace was wrapped in flame. before his eyes he saw the fiery tongues lick up his treasures. even the gift-seat of the goths melted in fire. then was the good king sorrowful. his heart boiled within him with angry thoughts. the fire-dragon had utterly destroyed the pleasant homes of his people. for this the war-prince greatly desired to punish him. therefore did beowulf command that a great shield should be made for him, all of iron. he knew well that a shield of wood could not help him in this need. wood against fire! nay, that were useless. his shield must be all of iron. too proud, too, was beowulf, the hero of old time, to seek the winged beast with a troop of soldiers. not thus would he overcome him. he feared not for himself, nor did he dread the dragon's war-craft. for with his valor and his skill beowulf had succeeded many a time. he had been victorious in many a tumult of battle since that day when a young man and a warrior prosperous in victory, he had cleansed hart hall by grappling with grendel and his kin. and now when the great iron shield was ready, he chose eleven of his best thanes and set out to seek the dragon. very wrathful was the old king, very desirous that death should take his fiery foe. he hoped, too, to win the great treasure of gold which the fell beast guarded. for already beowulf had learned whence the feud arose, whence came the anger which had been so hurtful to his people. and the precious cup, the cause of all the quarrel, had been brought to him. with the band of warriors went the slave who had stolen the cup. he it was who must be their guide to the cave, for he alone of all men living knew the way thither. loth he was to be their guide. but captive and bound he was forced to lead the way over the plain to the dragon's hill. unwillingly he went with lagging footsteps until at length he came to the cave hard by the seashore. there by the sounding waves lay the savage guardian of the treasure. ready for war and fierce was he. it was no easy battle that was there prepared for any man, brave though he might be. and now on the rocky point above the sea king beowulf sat himself down. here he would bid farewell to all his thanes ere he began the combat. for what man might tell which from that fight should come forth victorious? beowulf's mind was sad. he was now old. his hair was white, his face was wrinkled and gray. but still his arm was strong as that of a young man. yet something within him warned him that death was not far off. so upon the rocky point he sat and bade farewell to his dear comrades. "in my youth," said the aged king, "many battles have i dared, and yet must i, the guardian of my people, though i be full of years, seek still another feud. and again will i win glory if the wicked spoiler of my land will but come forth from his lair." much he spoke. with loving words he bade farewell to each one of his men, greeting his dear comrades for the last time. "i would not bear a sword or weapon against the winged beast," he said at length, "if i knew how else i might grapple with the wretch, as of old i did with grendel. but i ween this war-fire is hot, fierce, and poisonous. therefore i have clad me in a coat of mail, and bear this shield all of iron. i will not flee a single step from the guardian of the treasure. but to us upon this rampart it shall be as fate will. "now let me make no more vaunting speech. ready to fight am i. let me forth against the winged beast. await ye here on the mount, clad in your coats of mail, your arms ready. abide ye here until ye see which of us twain in safety cometh forth from the clash of battle. "it is no enterprise for you, or for any common man. it is mine alone. alone i needs must go against the wretch and prove myself a warrior. i must with courage win the gold, or else deadly, baleful war shall fiercely snatch me, your lord, from life." then beowulf arose. he was all clad in shining armor, his gold-decked helmet was upon his head, and taking his shield in hand he strode under the stony cliffs towards the cavern's mouth. in the strength of his single arm he trusted against the fiery dragon. no enterprise this for a coward. iii how beowulf overcame the dragon beowulf left his comrades upon the rocky point jutting out into the sea, and alone he strode onward until he spied a great stone arch. from beneath the arch, from out the hillside, flowed a stream seething with fierce, hot fire. in this way the dragon guarded his lair, for it was impossible to pass such a barrier unhurt. so upon the edge of this burning river beowulf stood and called aloud in anger. stout of heart and wroth against the winged beast was he. the king's voice echoed like a war-cry through the cavern. the dragon heard it and was aroused to fresh hate of man. for the guardian of the treasure-hoard knew well the sound of mortal voice. now was there no long pause ere battle raged. first from out the cavern flamed forth the breath of the winged beast. hot sweat of battle rose from out the rock. the earth shook and growling thunder trembled through the air. the dragon, ringed around with many-colored scales, was now hot for battle, and, as the hideous beast crept forth, beowulf raised his mighty shield and rushed against him. already the king had drawn his sword. it was an ancient heirloom, keen of edge and bright. many a time it had been dyed in blood; many a time it had won glory and victory. but ere they closed, the mighty foes paused. each knew the hate and deadly power of the other. the mighty prince, firm and watchful, stood guarded by his shield. the dragon, crouching as in ambush, awaited him. then suddenly like a flaming arch the dragon bent and towered, and dashed upon the lord of the goths. up swung the arm of the hero, and dealt a mighty blow to the grisly, many-colored beast. but the famous sword was all too weak against such a foe. the edge turned and bit less strongly than its great king had need, for he was sore pressed. his shield, too, proved no strong shelter from the wrathful dragon. the warlike blow made greater still the anger of the fiery foe. now he belched forth flaming fire. all around fierce lightnings darted. beowulf no longer hoped for glorious victory. his sword had failed him. the edge was turned and blunted upon the scaly foe. he had never thought the famous steel would so ill serve him. yet he fought on ready to lose his life in such good contest. again the battle paused, again the king and dragon closed in fight. the dragon-guardian of the treasure had renewed his courage. his heart heaved and boiled with fire, and fresh strength breathed from him. beowulf was wrapped in flame. dire was his need. yet of all his comrades none came near to help. nay, as they watched the conflict they were filled with base fear, and fled to the wood hard by for refuge. only one among them sorrowed for his master, and as he watched his heart was wrung with grief. wiglaf was this knight called, and he was beowulf's kinsman. now when he saw his liege lord hard pressed in battle he remembered all the favors beowulf had heaped upon him. he remembered all the honors and the wealth which he owed to his king. then could he no longer be still. shield and spear he seized, but ere he sped to aid his king he turned to his comrades. "when our lord and king gave us swords and armor," he cried, "did we not promise to follow him in battle whenever he had need? when he of his own will chose us for this expedition he reminded us of our fame. he said he knew us to be good warriors, bold helmet-wearers. and although indeed our liege lord thought to do this work of valor alone, without us, because more than any man he hath done glorious and rash deeds, lo! now is the day come that hath need of strength and of good warriors. come, let us go to him. let us help our chieftain although the grim terror of fire be hot. "heaven knoweth i would rather the flame would blast my body than his who gave me gold. it seemeth not fitting to me that we should bear back our shields to our homes unless we may first fell the foe and defend the life of our king. nay, it is not of the old custom of the goths that the king alone should suffer, that he alone should sink in battle. our lord should be repaid for his gifts to us, and so he shall be by me even if death take us twain." but none would hearken to wiglaf. so alone he sped through the deadly smoke and flame, till to his master's side he came offering aid. "my lord beowulf," he cried, "fight on as thou didst in thy youth-time. erstwhile didst thou say that thou wouldst not let thy greatness sink so long as life lasteth. defend thou thy life with all might. i will support thee to the utmost." when the dragon heard these words his fury was doubled. the fell wicked beast came on again belching forth fire, such was his hatred of men. the flame-waves caught wiglaf's shield, for it was but of wood. it was burned utterly, so that only the stud of steel remained. his coat of mail alone was not enough to guard the young warrior from the fiery enemy. but right valiantly he went on fighting beneath the shelter of beowulf's shield now that his own was consumed to ashes by the flames. then again the warlike king called to mind his ancient glories, again he struck with main strength with his good sword upon the monstrous head. hate sped the blow. but alas! as it descended the famous sword nægling snapped asunder. beowulf's sword had failed him in the conflict, although it was an old and well-wrought blade. to him it was not granted that weapons should help him in battle. the hand that swung the sword was too strong. his might overtaxed every blade however wondrously the smith had welded it. and now a third time the fell fire-dragon was roused to wrath. he rushed upon the king. hot, and fiercely grim the great beast seized beowulf's neck in his horrid teeth. the hero's life-blood gushed forth, the crimson stream darkly dyed his bright armor. then in the great king's need his warrior showed skill and courage. heeding not the flames from the awful mouth, wiglaf struck the dragon below the neck. his hand was burned with the fire, but his sword dived deep into the monster's body and from that moment the flames began to abate. the horrid teeth relaxed their hold, and beowulf, quickly recovering himself, drew his deadly knife. battle-sharp and keen it was, and with it the hero gashed the dragon right in the middle. the foe was conquered. glowing in death he fell. they twain had destroyed the winged beast. such should a warrior be, such a thane in need. to the king it was a victorious moment. it was the crown of all his deeds. then began the wound which the fire-dragon had wrought him to burn and to swell. beowulf soon found that baleful poison boiled in his heart. well knew he that the end was nigh. lost in deep thought he sat upon the mound and gazed wondering at the cave. pillared and arched with stone-work it was within, wrought by giants and dwarfs of old time. and to him came wiglaf his dear warrior and tenderly bathed his wound with water. then spake beowulf, in spite of his deadly wound he spake, and all his words were of the ending of his life, for he knew that his days of joy upon this earth were past. "had a son been granted to me, to him i should have left my war-garments. fifty years have i ruled this people, and there has been no king of all the nations round who durst meet me in battle. i have known joys and sorrows, but no man have i betrayed, nor many false oaths have i sworn. for all this may i rejoice, though i be now sick with mortal wounds. the ruler of men may not upbraid me with treachery or murder of kinsmen when my soul shall depart from its body. "but now, dear wiglaf, go thou quickly to the hoard of gold which lieth under the hoary rock. the dragon lieth dead; now sleepeth he for ever, sorely wounded and bereft of his treasure. then haste thee, wiglaf, for i would see the ancient wealth, the gold treasure, the jewels, the curious gems. haste thee to bring it hither; then after that i have seen it, i shall the more contentedly give up my life and the kingship that i so long have held." quickly wiglaf obeyed his wounded lord. into the dark cave he descended, and there outspread before him was a wondrous sight. treasure of jewels, many glittering and golden, lay upon the ground. wondrous vessels of old time with broken ornaments were scattered round. here, too, lay old and rusty helmets, mingled with bracelets and collars cunningly wrought. upon the walls hung golden flags. from one a light shone forth by which the whole cavern was made clear. and all within was silent. no sign was there of any guardian, for without lay the dragon, sleeping death's sleep. quickly wiglaf gathered of the treasures all that he could carry. dishes and cups he took, a golden ensign and a sword curiously wrought. in haste he returned, for he knew not if he should find his lord in life where he had left him. and when wiglaf came again to where beowulf sat he poured the treasure at his feet. but he found his lord in a deep swoon. again the brave warrior bathed beowulf's wound and laved the stricken countenance of his lord, until once more he came to himself. then spake the king: "for this treasure i give thanks to the lord of all. not in vain have i given my life, for it shall be of great good to my people in need. and now leave me, for on this earth longer i may not stay. say to my warriors that they shall raise a mound upon the rocky point which jutteth seaward. high shall it stand as a memorial to my people. let it soar upward so that they who steer their slender barks over the tossing waves shall call it beowulf's mound." the king then took from his neck the golden collar. to wiglaf, his young thane and kinsman, he gave it. he gave also his helmet adorned with gold, his ring and coat of mail, and bade the warrior use them well. "thou art the last of our race," he said. "fate hath swept away all my kinsmen, all the mighty earls. now i too must follow them." that was the last word of the aged king. from his bosom the soul fled to seek the dwellings of the just. at wiglaf's feet he lay quiet and still. how king arthur conquered rome adapted by e. edwardson king arthur had just brought a great war to an end, and in honor of his victory he was holding a royal feast with the kings and princes that were his vassals and all the knights of the round table, when twelve grave and ancient men entered the banquet-hall where he sat at table. they bore each an olive-branch in his hand, to signify that they were ambassadors from lucius the emperor of rome, and after they had reverently made obeisance to king arthur, they delivered their message as follows: "the high and mighty emperor lucius sends you greeting, o king of britain, and he commands you to acknowledge him as your lord, and to pay the tribute which is due from this realm, and which, it is recorded, was paid by your father and others who came before him. yet you rebelliously withhold it and keep it back, in defiance of the statutes and decrees made by the first emperor of rome, the noble julius caesar, who conquered this country. and be assured that if you disobey this command, the emperor lucius will come in his might and make war against you and your kingdom, and will inflict upon you a chastisement that shall serve for ever as a warning to all kings and princes not to withhold the tribute due to that noble empire to which belongs dominion over the whole world." thus they spoke, and king arthur having heard their request, bade them withdraw, saying that he would take the advice of his counselors before giving them his answer; but some of the younger knights that were in the hall declared that it was a disgrace to all who were at the feast that such language should be used to the king in their hearing, and they would fain have fallen upon the ambassadors and slain them. but king arthur, hearing their murmurs, declared that any insult or wrong suffered by the ambassadors should be punished with death. then he sent them to their quarters, escorted by one of his knights, who was ordered to provide them with whatever they wanted. "let nothing be grudged these men of rome," said the king "though the demand they make is an affront alike to me and to you who are of my court. i should be dishonored were the ambassadors not treated with the respect due to them, seeing that they are great lords in their own land." as soon as the ambassadors had left the hall, king arthur asked his knights and lords what was their advice and counsel in the matter. the first to give his opinion was sir cador of cornwall. "sir," said sir cador, "the message brought by these lords is most welcome to me. we have spent full many days at rest and in idleness, and now my hope is that you will wage war against the romans. in that war we shall, i have little doubt, win great honor." "i am sure," answered king arthur, "that this affair is welcome to you, but i seek, above all, your aid in devising a grave and suitable answer to the demand they have made. and let no man doubt that i hold that demand to be a grievous insult. the tribute they claim, in my opinion, not only is not due, but cannot be due; for more than one british knight having been emperor of rome, it is, i hold, the duty of rome to acknowledge the lordship of britain, rather than of britain to acknowledge that of rome. what think ye?" "sir," replied king anguish of scotland, "you ought of right to be lord over all other kings, for throughout christendom there is neither knight nor man of high estate worthy to be compared with you. my advice is, never yield to the romans. when they reigned over us, they oppressed our principal men, and laid heavy and extortionate burdens upon the land. for that cause i, standing here, solemnly vow vengeance upon them for the evil they then did, and, to support you in your quarrel, i will at my own cost furnish twenty thousand good fighting men. this force i will command in person, and i will bring it to your aid whenever you choose to summon me." in like manner, the king of little britain, as brittany was called in those days, undertook to furnish thirty thousand men; and all the others who were present agreed to fight on king arthur's side, and to assist him to the utmost of their power. so he, having thanked them heartily for the courage and good will towards him that they displayed, had the ambassadors summoned back into the banquet-hall and addressed them thus: "i would have you go back to him who sent you, and i would have you say to him that i will pay no heed to any orders or demands that may be brought from him; and as for tribute so far am i from allowing that there is any tribute due from me or to any other man or prince upon earth, be he heathen or christian, that i claim lordship over the empire he now has. and say further to him, that i have determined and resolved to go to rome with my army, to take possession of the empire and to subdue all that behave themselves rebelliously. therefore, let your master and all the other men of rome get themselves ready to do homage to me, and to acknowledge me as their emperor and governor, and let them know that if they refuse, they will be punished befittingly." then king arthur bade his treasurer give handsome gifts to the ambassadors, and repay in full the cost of their journey, and he assigned sir cador as their escort to see them safely out of the country. so they took their leave, and going to sandwich, sailed thence, and passed through flanders and germany over the alps into italy to the court of the emperor. when the emperor heard what message king arthur had entrusted to them, and understood that this was indeed the reply to his demand for tribute, he was grievously angry. "of truth," he said, "i never doubted that king arthur would obey my commands and submit, as it befits him and all other kings to submit themselves to me." "sir," answered one of the ambassadors, "i beseech you not to speak thus boastfully. in very truth my companions and myself were dismayed when we saw king arthur face to face, and my fear is that you have made a rod for your own back, for his intention is to become lord over this empire. his threats, i warn you, are no idle talk. he is a very different man from what you hoped he was, and his court is the most noble upon earth. never had any one of us beheld such magnificence as we beheld there on new year's day, when nine kings, besides other princes, lords, and knights, sat at table with king arthur. nor do i believe that there could be found anywhere another band of knights worthy to be matched with the knights who sit at his round table, nor a more manly man than the king himself. and since i verily believe his ambition is such that he would not be satisfied though he had conquered the whole world, my advice is that you have careful watch kept upon the borders of your lands and upon the ways over the mountains, for i am certain that you would do wisely to guard yourself well against him." "well," answered lucius, "my intention is before easter to cross the alps and to descend into france and seize the lands that belong to him there. with me i shall take my mighty warriors from tuscany and lombardy, and all the subjects and allies i have shall be summoned to my aid." then the emperor picked out wise old knights and sent them east and west throughout asia, africa, and europe, to summon his allies from turkey, syria, portugal, and the other distant lands that were subject to him; and in the meantime he assembled his forces from rome, and from the countries between rome and flanders, and he collected together as his bodyguard fifty giants who were sons of evil spirits. putting himself at the head of this mighty host, lucius departed from rome, and marching through savoy, crossed the mountains, meaning to lay waste the lands king arthur had conquered. he besieged and took a castle near cologne, which he garrisoned with saracens and unbelievers. then he passed on, plundering and pillaging the country, till he entered burgundy, where he halted to collect the whole of his army before invading and laying utterly waste the land of little britain. in the meantime preparations were being made on the side of the british. a parliament was held at york, and there it was resolved that all the navy of the kingdom should be got ready and assembled within fifteen days at sandwich. sir baudewaine of britain, and sir constantine, the son of sir cador of cornwall, were chosen by the king to be his viceroys during his absence; and to them, in the presence of all his lords, he confided the care of his kingdom, and he also entrusted to them queen guinevere. she, when the time drew near for the departure of her lord, wept and lamented so piteously that at last she swooned, and was carried away to her chamber by the ladies that attended upon her. then king arthur mounted his horse, and, putting himself at the head of his troops, made proclamation in a loud voice that should death befall him during this expedition, his wish was that sir constantine, who was his heir by blood, should succeed to his possessions and to his throne. so king arthur and his army came to sandwich, where they found awaiting them a great multitude of galleys and vessels of all sorts, on which they embarked and set out to sea. that night, as the king lay asleep in his cabin, he dreamed a marvelous dream. a dreadful dragon appeared, flying out of the west. its head was all enameled with azure enamel. its wings and its claws glistened like gold. its feet were black as jet. its body was sheathed in scales that shone as armor shines after it has been polished, and it had a very great and remarkable tail. then there came a cloud out of the east. the grimmest beast man ever saw rode upon this cloud; it was a wild boar, roaring and growling so hideously that it was terrifying to hear it. the dragon flew down the wind like a falcon and struck at this boar; but it defended itself with its grisly tusks, and wounded the dragon in the breast so severely that its blood, pouring into the sea in torrents, made all the waves red. then the dragon turned and flew away, and having mounted up to a great height, again swooped down upon the boar and fastened its claws in the beast's back. the boar struggled, and raged, and writhed, but all in vain. it was at the mercy of its foe, and so merciless was the dragon that it never loosened its grip till it had torn the boar limb from limb and bone from bone, and scattered it piecemeal upon the surface of the sea. then king arthur awoke, and, starting up in great dismay, sent for a wise man that was on board the ship and bade him interpret the dream. "sir," the wise man said, "the dragon which you saw in your dream surely betokens your own self, its golden wings signifying the countries you have won with your sword, and its marvelous tail the knights of the round table. as for the boar that was slain, that may betoken either a tyrant that torments his people, or some hideous and abominable giant with whom you are about to fight. and the dream foreshadows victory for you. therefore, though it was very dreadful, you should take comfort from it and be of a good heart." before long the sailors sighted land, and the army disembarked at a port in flanders, where many great lords were awaiting the arrival of king arthur, as had been ordained. and to him, soon after he had arrived, there came a husbandman bringing grievous news. a monstrous giant had for years infested the country on the borders of little britain, and had slain many people and devoured such numbers of children that there were none left for him to prey upon. and being in search of victims, and coming upon the duchess of little britain as she rode with her knights, he had laid hands upon her and carried her off to his den in a mountain. five hundred men that followed the duchess could not rescue her, but they heard such heartrending cries and shrieks that they had little doubt she had been put to death. "now," said the husbandman, "as you are a great and noble king and a valiant conqueror, and as this lady was wife to sir howel, who is your own cousin, take pity on her and on all of us, and avenge us upon this vile giant." "alas," king arthur replied, "this is a grievous and an evil matter. i would give all my kingdom to have been at hand, so that i might have saved that fair lady." then he asked the husbandman whether he could show him the place where the giant would be found, and the man said that was easy to do, for there were always two fires burning outside the den he haunted. in that den, the husbandman believed, was stored more treasure than the whole realm of france contained. then the king took sir kay and sir bedivere apart privately into his tent, and bade them secretly get ready their horses and armor, and his own, for it was his intention that night, after evensong, to set out on a pilgrimage to st. michael's mount with them, and nobody besides them was to accompany him. so when evening came, the king, and sir kay, and sir bedivere armed themselves, and taking their horses, rode as fast as they could to the foot of st. michael's mount. there the king alighted and bade his knights stay where they were, while he himself ascended the mount. he went up the hillside till he came to a huge fire. close to it was a newly made grave, by which was sitting a sorrowful widow wringing her hands and making great lamentation. king arthur saluted her courteously, and asked for whom she was weeping. she prayed him to speak softly, for "yonder," said she, "is a monstrous giant that will come and destroy you should your voice reach his ears. luckless wretch, what brings you to this mountain?" asked the widow. "fifty such knights as you could not hold their ground against the monster." "lady," he replied, "the mighty conqueror king arthur has sent me as his ambassador to this giant, to inquire why he ventures thus to misuse and maltreat the people of the land." "a useless embassy in very truth!" she said. "little does he care for king arthur, or for any other man. not many days have passed since he murdered the fairest lady in the world, the wife of sir howel of little britain; and had you brought with you king arthur's own wife, queen guinevere, he would not be afraid to murder her. yet, if you must needs speak with him, you will find him yonder over the crest of the hill." "this is a fearful warning you give me," said the king. "yet none the less, believe me, will i accomplish the task that has been allotted me." having climbed up to the crest of the hill, king arthur looked down, and close below him he saw the giant basking at his ease by the side of a great fire. "thou villain!" cried the king--"thou villain! short shall be thy life and shameful shall be thy death. rise and defend yourself. my sword shall avenge that fair duchess whom you murdered." starting from the ground, the giant snatched up his great iron club, and aiming a swinging blow at king arthur's head, swept the crest off his helmet. then the king flew at him, and they wrestled and wrestled till they fell, and as they struggled on the ground king arthur again and again smote the giant with his dagger, and they rolled and tumbled down the hill till they reached the sea-beach at its foot, where sir kay and sir bedivere were waiting their lord's return. rushing to his aid, the two knights at once set their master free, for they found that the giant, in whose arms he was locked, was already dead. then king arthur sent sir kay and sir bedivere up the hill to fetch the sword and shield that he had let fall and left there, and also the giant's iron club and cloak, and he told them they might keep whatever treasure they found in his den, for he desired nothing besides the club and the cloak. so they went and did as they were bidden, and brought away as much treasure as they desired. when the news of the oppressor's death was spread abroad, the people came in throngs to thank the king, who had delivered them; but he bade them rather give thanks to heaven. then, having distributed among them the treasure his knights had not needed, and having commanded sir howel to build upon the hill which the giant had haunted a chapel in honor of st. michael, he returned to his army, and led it into the country of champagne, where he pitched his camp in a valley. that evening two men, of whom one was the marshal of france, came into the pavilion where king arthur sat at table. they brought news that the emperor was in burgundy, burning and sacking towns and villages, so that, unless king arthur came quickly to their succor, the men of those parts would be forced to surrender themselves and their goods to rome. hearing this, king arthur summoned four of his knights--sir gawaine, sir bors, sir lionel, and sir badouine--and ordered them to go with all speed to the emperor's camp, and all upon him either to leave the land at once or make ready for battle, since king arthur would not suffer the people to be harried any longer. these four knights, accordingly, rode off with their followers, and before very long they came to a meadow, where, pitched by the side of a stream, they saw many stately tents, and in the middle of them one which, it was plain, must be the emperor's, for above it floated a banner on which was an eagle. then they halted and took counsel what it would be best to do, and it was agreed that the rest of the party should remain in ambush in the wood while sir gawaine and sir bors delivered the message they brought. having heard it, the emperor lucius said they had better return and advise king arthur to make preparations for being subdued by rome and losing all his possessions. to this taunt sir gawaine and sir bors made angry replies, whereupon sir gainus, a knight who was near of kin to the emperor, laughed, and said that british knights behaved as if the whole world rested on their shoulders. sir gawaine was infuriated beyond all measure by these words, and he and sir bors fled as fast as their horses could put legs to the ground, dashing headlong through woods and across streams, till they came to the spot where they had left their comrades in ambush. the romans followed in hot pursuit, and pressed them hard all the way. one knight, indeed, had almost overtaken them, when sir bors turned and ran him through with his spear. then sir lionel and sir badouine came to their assistance, and there was a great and fierce encounter, and such was the bravery of the british that they routed the romans and chased them right up to their tents. there the enemy made a stand, and sir bors was taken prisoner; but sir gawaine, drawing his good sword, vowed that he would either rescue his comrade or never look king arthur in the face again, and falling upon the men that had captured sir bors, he delivered him out of their hands. then the fight waxed hotter and hotter, and the british knights were in such jeopardy that sir gawaine dispatched a messenger to bring him help as quickly as it could be sent, for he was wounded and sorely hurt. king arthur, having received the message, instantly mustered his army; but before he could set out, into the camp rode sir gawaine and his companions, bringing with them many prisoners. and the only one of the band who had suffered any hurt was sir gawaine, whom the king consoled as best he could, bidding his surgeon at once attend to his wounds. thus ended the first battle between the britons and the romans. that night there was great rejoicing in the camp of king arthur; and on the next day all the prisoners were sent to paris, with sir launcelot du lake and sir cador, and many other knights to guard them. on the way, passing through a wood, they were beset by a force the emperor lucius had placed there in ambush. then sir launcelot, though the enemy had six men for every one he had with him, fought with such fury that no one could stand up against him; and at last, in dread of his prowess and might, the romans and their allies the saracens turned and fled as though they had been sheep and sir launcelot a wolf or a lion. but the skirmish had lasted so long that tidings of it had reached king arthur, who arrayed himself and hurried to the aid of his knights. finding them already victorious, he embraced them one by one, saying that they were indeed worthy of whatever honors had been granted them in the past, and that no other king had ever had such noble knights as he had. to this sir cador answered that they might one and all claim at least the merit of not having deserted their posts, but that the honor of the day belonged to sir launcelot, for it passed man's wit to describe all the feats of arms he had performed. then sir cador told the king that certain of his knights were slain, and who they were, whereupon king arthur wept bitterly. "truly," he said, "your valor nearly was the destruction of you all. yet you would not have been disgraced in my eyes had you retreated. to me it seems a rash and foolhardy thing for knights to stand their ground when they find themselves overmatched." "nay," replied sir launcelot, "i think otherwise; for a knight who has once been put to shame may never recover the honor he has forfeited." there was among the romans who escaped from that battle a senator. he went to the emperor lucius and said, "sir, my advice is that you withdraw your army, for this day has proved that grievous blows are all we shall win here. there is not one of king arthur's knights that has not proved himself worth a hundred of ours." "alas," cried lucius, "that is coward's talk and to hear it grieves me more than all the losses i have sustained this day." then he ordered one of his most trusty allies to take a great force and advance as fast as he possibly could, the emperor himself intending to follow in all haste. warning of this having been brought secretly to the british camp, king arthur sent part of his forces to sessoigne to occupy the towns and castles before the romans could reach him. the rest he posted up and down the country, so as to cut off every way by which the enemy might escape. before long the emperor entered the valley of sessoigne, and found himself face to face with king arthur's men, drawn up in battle array. seeing that retreat was impossible--for he was hemmed in by his enemies, and had either to fight his way through them or surrender--he made an oration to his followers, praying them to quit themselves like men that day, and to remember that to allow the britons to hold their ground would bring disgrace upon rome, the mistress of the world. then, at the emperor's command, his trumpeters sounded their trumpets so defiantly that the very earth trembled and shook; and the two hosts joined battle, rushing at one another with mighty shouts. many knights fought nobly that day, but none more nobly than king arthur. riding up and down the battle-field, he exhorted his knights to bear themselves bravely; and wherever the fray was thickest, and his people most sorely pressed, he dashed to the rescue and hewed down the romans with his good sword excalibur. among those he slew was a marvelous great giant called galapus. first of all, king arthur smote off this giant's legs by the knees, saying that made him a more convenient size to deal with, and then he smote off his head. such was the hugeness of the body of galapus, that, as it fell, it crushed six saracens to death. but though king arthur fought thus fiercely, and sir gawaine and all the other knights of the round table did nobly, the host of their enemies was so great that it seemed as if the battle would never come to an end, the britons having the advantage at one moment and the romans at another. now, among the romans, no man fought more bravely than the emperor lucius. king arthur, spying the marvelous feats of arms he performed, rode up and challenged him to a single combat. they exchanged many a mighty blow, and at last lucius struck king arthur across the face, and inflicted a grievous wound. feeling the smart of it, king arthur dealt back such a stroke that his sword excalibur clove the emperor's helmet in half, and splitting his skull, passed right down to his breast-bone. thus lucius, the emperor of the romans, lost his life; and when it was known that he was slain, his whole army turned and fled, and king arthur and his knights chased them, slaying all they could overtake. of the host that followed lucius, more than a hundred thousand men fell that day. king arthur, after he had won the great battle in which the emperor lucius was slain, marched into lorraine, and so on through brabant and flanders into germany, and across the mountains into lombardy, and thence into tuscany, and at last came to rome, and on christmas day he was crowned emperor by the pope with great state and solemnity. and he stayed in rome a little while, setting in order the affairs of his possession, and distributing among his knights posts of honor and dignity, and also great estates, as rewards for their services. after these affairs had been duly arranged, all the british lords and knights assembled in the presence of the king, and said to him: "noble emperor, now that, heaven be thanked for it, this great war is over, and your enemies so utterly vanquished that henceforward, as we believe, no man, however great or mighty he may be, will dare to stand up against you, we beseech you to grant us leave to return to our wives and our homes, that there we may rest ourselves." this request king arthur granted, saying that it would be wise, seeing they had met with such good fortune so far, to be content with it and to return home. also he gave orders that there should be no plundering or pillaging of the country through which they had to pass on their way back, but that they should, on pain of death, pay the full price for victuals or whatever else they took. so king arthur and his host set off from rome and came over the sea and landed at sandwich, where queen guinevere came to meet her lord. and at sandwich and throughout the land there were great festivities, and noble gifts were presented to the king; for his people rejoiced mightily both because he had returned safely home, and because of the great victories he had achieved. sir galahad and the sacred cup adapted by mary macgregor "my strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure," sang galahad gladly. he was only a boy, but he had just been made a knight by sir lancelot, and the old abbey, where he had lived all his life, rang with the echo of his song. sir lancelot heard the boy's clear voice singing in triumph. as he stopped to listen, he caught the words, "my strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure," and the great knight wished he were a boy again, and could sing that song too. [illustration: sir galahad.] twelve nuns lived in the quiet abbey, and they had taught galahad lovingly and carefully, ever since he had come to them as a beautiful little child. and the boy had dwelt happily with them there in the still old abbey, and he would be sorry to leave them, but he was a knight now. he would fight for the king he reverenced so greatly, and for the country he loved so well. yet when sir lancelot left the abbey the next day, galahad did not go with him. he would stay in his old home a little longer, he thought. he would not grieve the nuns by a hurried farewell. sir lancelot left the abbey alone, but as he rode along he met two knights, and together they reached camelot, where the king was holding a great festival. king arthur welcomed sir lancelot and the two knights. "now all the seats at our table will be filled," he said gladly. for it pleased the king when the circle of his knights was unbroken. then all the king's household went to service at the minster, and when they came back to the palace they saw a strange sight. in the dining-hall the round table at which the king and his knights always sat seemed strangely bright. the king looked more closely, and saw that at one place on this round table were large letters. and he read, "this is the seat of sir galahad, the pure-hearted." but only sir lancelot knew that sir galahad was the boy-knight he had left behind him in the quiet old abbey. "we will cover the letters till the knight of the pure heart comes," said sir lancelot; and he took silk and laid it over the glittering letters. then as they sat down to table they were disturbed by sir kay, the steward of the king's kitchen. "you do not sit down to eat at this festival," sir kay reminded the king, "till you have seen or heard some great adventure." and the king told his steward that the writing in gold had made him forget his usual custom. as they waited a squire came hastily into the hall. "i have a strange tale to tell," he said. "as i walked along the bank of the river i saw a great stone, and it floated on the top of the water, and into the stone there has been thrust a sword." then the king and all his knights went down to the river, and they saw the stone, and it was like red marble. and the sword that had been thrust into the stone was strong and fair. the handle of it was studded with precious stones, and among the stones there were letters of gold. the king stepped forward, and bending over the sword read these words: "no one shall take me away save him to whom i belong. i will hang only by the side of the best knight in the world." the king turned to sir lancelot. "the sword is yours, for surely there lives no truer knight." but sir lancelot answered gravely, "the sword is not mine. it will never hang by my side, for i dare not try to take it." the king was sorry that his great knight's courage failed, but he turned to sir gawaine and asked him to try to take the sword. and at first sir gawaine hesitated. but when he looked again at the precious stones that sparkled on the handle, he hesitated no longer. but he no sooner touched the sword than it wounded him, so that he could not use his arm for many days. then the king turned to sir percivale. and because arthur wished it, sir percivale tried to take the sword; but he could not move it. and after that no other knight dared to touch the fair sword; so they turned and went back to the palace. in the dining-hall the king and his knights sat down once more at the round table, and each knight knew his own chair. and all the seats were filled except the chair opposite the writing in gold. it had been a day full of surprise, but now the most wonderful thing of all happened. for as they sat down, suddenly all the doors of the palace shut with a loud noise, but no one had touched the doors. and all the windows were softly closed, but no one saw the hands that closed them. then one of the doors opened, and there came in a very old man dressed all in white, and no one knew whence he came. by his side was a young man in red armor. he had neither sword nor shield, but hanging by his side was an empty sheath. there was a great silence in the hall as the old man said, slowly and solemnly, "i bring you the young knight sir galahad, who is descended from a king. he shall do many great deeds, and he shall see the holy grail." "he shall see the holy grail," the knights repeated, with awe on their faces. for far back, in the days of their boyhood, they had heard the story of the holy grail. it was the sacred cup out of which their lord had drunk before he died. and they had been told how sometimes it was seen carried by angels, and how at other times in a gleam of light. but in whatever way it appeared, it was seen only by those who were pure in heart. and as the old man's words, "he shall see the holy grail," fell on their ears, the knights thought of the story they had heard so long ago, and they were sorry, for they had never seen the sacred cup, and they knew that it was unseen only by those who had done wrong. but the old man was telling the boy-knight to follow him. he led him to the empty chair, and lifted the silk that covered the golden letters. "this is the seat of sir galahad, the pure-hearted," he read aloud. and the young knight sat in the empty seat that belonged to him. then the old man left the palace, and twenty noble squires met him, and took him back to his own country. when dinner was ended, the king went over to the chair where his boy-knight sat, and welcomed him to the circle of the round table. afterwards he took sir galahad's hand, and led him out of the palace to show him the strange red stone that floated on the river. when sir galahad heard how the knights could not draw the sword out of the stone, he knew that this adventure was his. "i will try to take the sword," said the boy-knight, "and place it in my sheath, for it is empty," and he pointed to his side. then he laid his hand on the wonderful sword, and easily drew it out of the stone, and placed it in his sheath. "god has sent you the sword, now he will send you a shield as well," said king arthur. then the king proclaimed that the next day there would be a tournament in the meadows of camelot. for before his knights went out to new adventures, he would see sir galahad proved. and in the morning the meadows lay bright in the sunshine. and the boy-knight rode bravely to his first combat, and over-threw many men; but sir lancelot and sir percivale he could not overthrow. when the tournament was over the king and his knights went home to supper, and each sat in his own seat at the round table. all at once there was a loud crashing noise, a noise that was louder than any peal of thunder. was the king's wonderful palace falling to pieces? but while the noise still sounded a marvelous light stole into the room, a light brighter than any sunbeam. as the knights looked at one another, each seemed to the other to have a new glory and a new beauty in his face. and down the sunbeam glided the holy grail. it was the sacred cup they had all longed to see. but no one saw it, for it was invisible to all but the pure-hearted sir galahad. as the strange light faded away, king arthur heard his knights vowing that they would go in search of the holy grail, and never give up the quest till they had found it. and the boy-knight knew that he too would go over land and sea, till he saw again the wonderful vision. that night the king could not sleep, for his sorrow was great. his knights would wander into far-off countries, and many of them would forget that they were in search of the holy grail. would they not have found the sacred cup one day if they had stayed with their king and helped to clear the country of its enemies? in the morning the streets of camelot were crowded with rich and poor. and the people wept as they watched the knights ride away on their strange quest. and the king wept too, for he knew that now there would be many empty chairs at the round table. the knights rode together to a strange city and stayed there all night. the next day they separated, each going a different way. sir galahad rode on for four days without adventure. at last he came to a white abbey, where he was received very kindly. and he found two knights there, and one was a king. "what adventure has brought you here?" asked the boy-knight. then they told him that in this abbey there was a shield. and if any man tried to carry it, he was either wounded or dead within three days. "but to-morrow i shall try to bear it," said the king. "in the name of god, let me take the shield," said sir galahad gravely. "if i fail, you shall try to bear it," said the king. and galahad was glad, for he had still no shield of his own. then a monk took the king and the young knight behind the altar, and showed them where the shield hung. it was as white as snow, but in the middle there was a red cross. "the shield can be borne only by the worthiest knight in the world," the monk warned the king. "i will try to bear it, though i am no worthy knight," insisted the king; and he took the shield and rode down into the valley. and galahad waited at the abbey, for the king had said he would send his squire to tell the young knight how the shield had protected him. for two miles the king rode through the valley, till he reached a hermitage. and he saw a warrior there, dressed in white armor, and sitting on a white horse. the warrior rode quickly towards the king, and struck him so hard that he broke his armor. then he thrust his spear through the king's right shoulder, as though he held no shield. "the shield can be borne only by a peerless knight. it does not belong to you," said the warrior, as he gave it to the squire, telling him to carry it back to the abbey and to give it to sir galahad with his greeting. "then tell me your name," said the squire. "i will tell neither you nor any one on earth," said the warrior. and he disappeared, and the squire saw him no more. "i will take the wounded king to an abbey, that his wounds may be dressed," thought the squire. and with great difficulty the king and his squire reached an abbey. and the monks thought his life could not be saved, but after many days he was cured. then the squire rode back to the abbey where galahad waited. "the warrior who wounded the king bids you bear this shield," he said. galahad hung the shield round his neck joyfully, and rode into the valley to seek the warrior dressed in white. and when they met they saluted each other courteously. and the warrior told sir galahad strange tales of the white shield, till the knight thanked god that now it was his. and all his life long the white shield with the red cross was one of his great treasures. now galahad rode back to the abbey, and the monks were glad to see him again. "we have need of a pure knight," they said, as they took sir galahad to a tomb in the churchyard. a pitiful noise was heard, and a voice from the tomb cried, "galahad, servant of god, do not come near me." but the young knight went towards the tomb and raised the stone. then a thick smoke was seen, and through the smoke a figure uglier than any man leaped from the tomb, shouting, "angels are round thee, galahad, servant of god. i can do you no harm." the knight stooped down and saw a body all dressed in armor lying there, and a sword lay by its side. "this was a false knight," said sir galahad. "let us carry his body away from this place." "you will stay in the abbey and live with us," entreated the monks. but the boy-knight could not rest. would he see the light that was brighter than any sunbeam again? would his adventures bring him at last to the holy grail? sir galahad rode on many days, till at last he reached a mountain. on the mountain he found an old chapel. it was empty and very desolate. galahad knelt alone before the altar, and asked god to tell him what to do next. and as he prayed a voice said, "thou brave knight, go to the castle of maidens and rescue them." galahad rose, and gladly journeyed on to the castle of maidens. there he found seven knights, who long ago had seized the castle from a maiden to whom it belonged. and these knights had imprisoned her and many other maidens. when the seven knights saw sir galahad they came out of the castle. "we will take this young knight captive, and keep him in prison," they said to each other, as they fell upon him. but sir galahad smote the first knight to the ground, so that he almost broke his neck. and as his wonderful sword flashed in the light, sudden fear fell on the six knights that were left and they turned and fled. then an old man took the keys of the castle to galahad. and the knight opened the gates of the castle, and set free many prisoners. he gave the castle back to the maiden to whom it belonged, and sent for all the knights in the country round about to do her homage. then once again sir galahad rode on in search of the holy grail. and the way seemed long, yet on and on he rode, till at last he reached the sea. there, on the shore, stood a maiden, and when she saw sir galahad, she led him to a ship and told him to enter. the wind rose and drove the ship, with sir galahad on board, between two rocks. but when the ship could not pass that way, the knight left it, and entered a smaller one that awaited him. in this ship was a table, and on the table, covered with a red cloth, was the holy grail. reverently sir galahad sank on his knees. but still the sacred cup was covered. at last the ship reached a strange city, and on the shore sat a crippled man. sir galahad asked his help to lift the table from the ship. "for ten years i have not walked without crutches," said the man. "show that you are willing, and come to me," urged the knight. and the cripple got up, and when he found that he was cured, he ran to sir galahad, and together they carried the wonderful table to the shore. then all the city was astonished, and the people talked only of the great marvel. "the man that was a cripple for ten years can walk," each said to the other. the king of the city heard the wonderful tale, but he was a cruel king and a tyrant. "the knight is not a good man," he said to his people, and he commanded that galahad should be put in prison. and the prison was underneath the palace, and it was dark and cold there. but down into the darkness streamed the light that had made galahad so glad long ago at camelot. and in the light galahad saw the holy grail. a year passed and the cruel king was very ill, and he thought he would die. then he remembered the knight he had treated so unkindly, and who was still in the dark, cold prison. "i will send for him, and ask him to forgive me," murmured the king. and when galahad was brought to the palace, he willingly forgave the tyrant who had put him in prison. then the king died, and there was great dismay in the city, for where would they find a good ruler to sit on the throne? as they wondered, they heard a voice that told them to make sir galahad their king, and in great joy the knight was crowned. then the new king ordered a box of gold and precious stones to be made, and in this box he placed the wonderful table he had carried away from the ship. "and every morning i and my people will come here to pray," he said. for a year sir galahad ruled the country well and wisely. "a year ago they crowned me king," thought galahad gravely, as he woke one morning. he would get up early, and go to pray at the precious table. but before the king reached the table he paused. it was early. surely all the city was asleep. yet some one was already there, kneeling before the table on which, uncovered, stood the sacred cup. the man kneeling there looked holy as the saints look. surrounding him was a circle of angels. was it a saint who kneeled, or was it the lord himself? when the man saw sir galahad, he said, "come near, thou servant of jesus christ, and thou shalt see what thou hast so much longed to see." and with joy sir galahad saw again the holy grail. then as he kneeled before it in prayer, his soul left his body and was carried into heaven. the passing of arthur adapted by mary macgregor it was not to win renown that king arthur had gone far across the sea, for he loved his own country so well, that to gain glory at home made him happiest of all. but a false knight with his followers was laying waste the country across the sea, and arthur had gone to wage war against him. "and you, sir modred, will rule the country while i am gone," the king had said. and the knight smiled as he thought of the power that would be his. at first the people missed their great king arthur, but as the months passed they began to forget him, and to talk only of sir modred and his ways. and he, that he might gain the people's praise, made easier laws than ever arthur had done, till by and by there were many in the country who wished that the king would never come back. when modred knew what the people wished, he was glad, and he made up his mind to do a cruel deed. he would cause letters to be written from beyond the sea, and the letters would tell that the great king arthur had been slain in battle. and when the letters came the people read, "king arthur is dead," and they believed the news was true. and there were some who wept because the noble king was slain, but some had no time to weep. "we must find a new king," they said. and because his laws were easy, these chose sir modred to rule over them. the wicked knight was pleased that the people wished him to be their king. "they shall take me to canterbury to crown me," he said proudly. and the nobles took him there, and amid shouts and rejoicings he was crowned. but it was not very long till other letters came from across the sea, saying that king arthur had not been slain, and that he was coming back to rule over his own country once more. when sir modred heard that king arthur was on his way home, he collected a great army and went to dover to try to keep the king from landing. but no army would have been strong enough to keep arthur and his knights away from the country they loved so well. they fought fiercely till they got on shore and scattered all sir modred's men. then the knight gathered another army, and chose a new battle-field. but king arthur fought so bravely that he and his men were again victorious, and sir modred fled to canterbury. many of the people began to forsake the false knight now, and saying that he was a traitor, they went back to king arthur. but still sir modred wished to conquer the king. he would go through the counties of kent and surrey and raise a new army. now king arthur had dreamed that if he fought with sir modred again he would be slain. so when he heard that the knight had raised another army, he thought, "i will meet this traitor who has betrayed me. when he looks in my face, he will be ashamed and remember his vow of obedience." and he sent two bishops to sir modred. "say to the knight that the king would speak with him alone," said arthur. and the traitor thought, "the king wishes to give me gold or great power, if i send my army away without fighting," "i will meet king arthur," he said to the bishops. but because he did not altogether trust the king he said he would take fourteen men with him to the meeting-place, "and the king must have fourteen men with him too," said sir modred. "and our armies shall keep watch when we meet, and if a sword is lifted it shall be the signal for battle." then king arthur arranged a feast for sir modred and his men. and as they feasted all went merrily till an adder glided out of a little bush and stung one of the knight's men. and the pain was so great, that the man quickly drew his sword to kill the adder. and when the armies saw the sword flash in the light, they sprang to their feet and began to fight, "for this is the signal for battle," they thought. and when evening came there were many thousand slain and wounded, and sir modred was left alone. but arthur had still two knights with him, sir lucan and sir bedivere. when king arthur saw that his army was lost and all his knights slain but two, he said, "would to god i could find sir modred, who has caused all this trouble." "he is yonder," said sir lucan, "but remember your dream, and go not near him." "whether i die or live," said the king, "he shall not escape." and seizing his spear he ran to sir modred, crying, "now you shall die." and arthur smote him under the shield, and the spear passed through his body, and he died. then, wounded and exhausted, the king fainted, and his knights lifted him and took him to a little chapel not far from a lake. as the king lay there, he heard cries of fear and pain from the distant battle-field. "what causes these cries?" said the king wearily. and to soothe the sick king, sir lucan said he would go to see. and when he reached the battle-field, he saw in the moonlight that robbers were on the field stooping over the slain, and taking from them their rings and their gold. and those that were only wounded, the robbers slew, that they might take their jewels too. sir lucan hastened back, and told the king what he had seen. "we will carry you farther off, lest the robbers find us here," said the knights. and sir lucan lifted the king on one side and sir bedivere lifted him on the other. but sir lucan had been wounded in the battle, and as he lifted the king he fell back and died. then arthur and sir bedivere wept for the fallen knight. now the king felt so ill that he thought he would not live much longer, and he turned to sir bedivere: "take excalibur, my good sword," he said, "and go with it to the lake, and throw it into its waters. then come quickly and tell me what you see." sir bedivere took the sword and went down to the lake. but as he looked at the handle with its sparkling gems and the richness of the sword, he thought he could not throw it away. "i will hide it carefully here among the rushes," thought the knight. and when he had hidden it, he went slowly to the king and told him he had thrown the sword into the lake. "what did you see?" asked the king eagerly. "nothing but the ripple of the waves as they broke on the beach," said sir bedivere. "you have not told me the truth," said the king. "if you love me, go again to the lake, and throw my sword into the water." again the knight went to the water's edge. he drew the sword from its hiding-place. he would do the king's will, for he loved him. but again the beauty of the sword made him pause. "it is a noble sword; i will not throw it away," he murmured, as once more he hid it among the rushes. then he went back more slowly, and told the king that he had done his will. "what did you see?" asked the king. "nothing but the ripples of the waves as they broke on the beach," repeated the knight. "you have betrayed me twice," said the king sadly, "and yet you are a noble knight! go again to the lake, and do not betray me for a rich sword." then for the third time sir bedivere went to the water's edge, and drawing the sword from among the rushes, he flung it as far as he could into the lake. and as the knight watched, an arm and a hand appeared above the surface of the lake. he saw the hand seize the sword, and shaking it three times, disappear again under the water. then sir bedivere went back quickly to the king, and told him what he had seen. "carry me to the lake," entreated arthur, "for i have been here too long." and the knight carried the king on his shoulders down to the water's side. there they found a barge lying, and seated in it were three queens, and each queen wore a black hood. and when they saw king arthur they wept. "lay me in the barge," said the king. and when sir bedivere had laid him there, king arthur rested his head on the lap of the fairest queen. and they rowed from land. sir bedivere, left alone, watched the barge as it drifted out of sight, and then he went sorrowfully on his way, till he reached a hermitage. and he lived there as a hermit for the rest of his life. and the barge was rowed to a vale where the king was healed of his wound. and some say that now he is dead, but others say that king arthur will come again, and clear the country of its foes. robin hood adapted by h.e. marshall i how robin hood came to live in the green wood very many years ago there ruled over england a king, who was called richard coeur de lion. coeur de lion is french and means lion-hearted. it seems strange that an english king should have a french name. but more than a hundred years before this king reigned, a french duke named william came to england, defeated the english in a great battle, and declared himself king of all that southern part of britain called england. he brought with him a great many frenchmen, or normans, as they were called from the name of the part of france over which this duke ruled. these normans were all poor though they were very proud and haughty. they came with duke william to help him to fight because he promised to give them money and lands as a reward. now duke william had not a great deal of money nor many lands of his own. so when he had beaten the english, or saxons, as they were called in those days, he stole lands and houses, money and cattle from the saxon nobles and gave them to the normans. the saxon nobles themselves had very often to become the servants of these proud normans. thus it came about that two races lived in england, each speaking their own language, and each hating the other. this state of things lasted for a very long time. even when richard became king, more than a hundred years after the coming of duke william, there was still a great deal of hatred between the two races. richard coeur de lion, as his name tells you, was a brave and noble man. he loved danger; he loved brave men and noble deeds. he hated all mean and cruel acts, and the cowards who did them. he was ever ready to help the weak against the strong, and had he stayed in england after he became king he might have done much good. he might have taught the proud norman nobles that true nobility rests in being kind and gentle to those less strong and less fortunate than ourselves, and not in fierceness and cruelty. yet richard himself was neither meek nor gentle. he was indeed very fierce and terrible in battle. he loved to fight with people who were stronger or better armed than himself. he would have been ashamed to hurt the weak and feeble. but richard did not stay in england. far, far over the seas there is a country called palestine. there our lord was born, lived, and died. christian people in all ages must think tenderly and gratefully of that far-off country. but at this time it had fallen into the hands of the heathen. it seemed to christian people in those days that it would be a terrible sin to allow wicked heathen to live in the holy land. so they gathered together great armies of brave men from every country in the world and sent them to try to win it back. many brave deeds were done, many terrible battles fought, but still the heathen kept possession. then brave king richard of england said he too would fight for the city of our lord. so he gathered together as much money as he could find, and as many brave men as would follow him, and set out for the holy land. before he went away he called two bishops who he thought were good and wise men, and said to them: "take care of england while i am gone. rule my people wisely and well, and i will reward you when i return." the bishops promised to do as he asked. then he said farewell and sailed away. now king richard had a brother who was called prince john. prince john was quite different from king richard in every way. he was not at all a nice man. he was jealous of richard because he was king, and angry because he himself had not been chosen to rule while richard was in palestine. as soon as his brother had gone, john went to the bishops and said, "you must let me rule while the king is away." and the bishops allowed him to do so. deep down in his wicked heart john meant to make himself king altogether, and never let richard come back any more. a very sad time now began for the saxons. john tried to please the haughty normans because they were great and powerful, and he hoped they would help to make him king. he thought the best way to please them was to give them land and money. so as he had none of his own (he was indeed called john lackland) he took it from the saxons and gave it to the normans. thus many of the saxons once more became homeless beggars, and lived a wild life in the forests, which covered a great part of england at this time. now among the few saxon nobles who still remained, and who had not been robbed of their lands and money, there was one called robert, earl of huntingdon. he had one son also named robert, but people called him robin. he was a favorite with every one. tall, strong, handsome, and full of fun, he kept his father's house bright with songs and laughter. he was brave and fearless too, and there was no better archer in all the countryside. and with it all he was gentle and tender, never hurting the weak nor scorning the poor. but robert of huntingdon had a bitter enemy. one day this enemy came with many soldiers behind him, determined to kill the earl and take all his goods and lands. there was a fierce and terrible fight, but in the end robert and all his men were killed. his house was burned to the ground and all his money stolen. only robin was saved, because he was such a splendid archer that no soldier would go near him, either to kill him or take him prisoner. he fought bravely till the last, but when he saw that his father was dead and his home in flames, he had no heart to fight any longer. so taking his bow and arrows, he fled to the great forest of sherwood. very fast he had to run, for prince john's men were close behind him. soon he reached the edge of the forest, but he did not stop there. on and on he went, plunging deeper and deeper under the shadow of the trees. at last he threw himself down beneath a great oak, burying his face in the cool, green grass. his heart felt hot and bitter. he was full of rage and fierce thoughts of revenge. cruel men in one day had robbed him of everything. his father, his home, servants, cattle, land, money, his name even, all were gone. he was bruised, hungry, and weary. yet as he lay pressing his face against the cool, green grass, and clutching the soft, damp moss with his hands, it was not sorrow or pain he felt, but only a bitter longing for revenge. [illustration: robin hood in an encounter.] the great, solemn trees waved gently overhead in the summer breeze, the setting sun sent shafts of golden light into the cool, blue shadows, birds sang their evening songs, deer rustled softly through the underwood, and bright-eyed squirrels leaped noiselessly from branch to branch. everywhere there was calm and peace except in poor robin's angry heart. robin loved the forest. he loved the sights and scents, and the sounds and deep silences of it. he felt as if it were a tender mother who opened her wide arms to him. soon it comforted him, and at last the tears came hot and fast, and sobs shook him as he lay on the grass. the bitterness and anger had all melted out of his heart; only sorrow was left. in the dim evening light robin knelt bareheaded on the green grass to say his prayers. then, still bareheaded, he stood up and swore an oath. this was the oath: "i swear to honor god and the king, to help the weak and fight the strong, to take from the rich and give to the poor, so god will help, me with his power." then he lay down on the grass under the trees with his good longbow beside him, and fell fast asleep. and this is how robin hood first came to live in the green wood and have all his wonderful adventures. ii the meeting of robin hood and little john when robin first came to live in sherwood forest he was rather sad, for he could not at once forget all he had lost. but he was not long lonely. when it became known that he had gone to live in the green wood, other poor men, who had been driven out of their homes by the normans, joined him. they soon formed a band and were known as the "merry men." robin was no longer called robin of huntingdon, but robin of sherwood forest. very soon people shortened sherwood into hood, though some people say he was called hood from the green hoods he and his men wore. how he came to have his name does not matter very much. people almost forgot that he was really an earl, and he became known, not only all over england, but in many far countries, as robin hood. robin was captain of the band of merry men. next to him came little john. he was called little john because he was so tall, just as midge the miller's son was called much because he was so small. robin loved little john best of all his friends. little john loved robin better than any one else in all the world. yet the first time they met they fought and knocked each other about dreadfully. "how they came acquainted, i'll tell you in brief, if you will but listen a while; for this very jest, among all the rest, i think it may cause you to smile." it happened on a bright sunshiny day in early spring. all through the winter robin and his men had had a very dull time. nearly all their fun and adventures happened with people traveling through the forest. as there were no trains, people had to travel on horseback. in winter the roads were bad, and the weather so cold and wet, that most people stayed at home. so it was rather a quiet time for robin and his men. they lived in great caves during the winter, and spent their time making stores of bows and arrows, and mending their boots and clothes. this bright sunshiny morning robin felt dull and restless, so he took his bow and arrows, and started off through the forest in search of adventure. he wandered on for some time without meeting any one. presently he came to a river. it was wide and deep, swollen by the winter rains. it was crossed by a very slender, shaky bridge, so narrow, that if two people tried to pass each other on it, one would certainly fall into the water. robin began to cross the bridge, before he noticed that a great, tall man, the very tallest man he had ever seen, was crossing too from the other side. "go back and wait until i have come over," he called out as soon as he noticed the stranger. the stranger laughed, and called out in reply, "i have as good a right to the bridge as you. _you_ can go back till _i_ get across." this made robin very angry. he was so accustomed to being obeyed that he was very much astonished too. between anger and astonishment he hardly knew what he did. he drew an arrow from his quiver, and fitting it to his bow, called out again, "if you don't go back i'll shoot." "if you do, i'll beat you till you are black and blue," replied the stranger. "quoth bold robin hood, 'thou dost prate like an ass, for, were i to bend my bow, i could send a dart quite through thy proud heart, before thou couldst strike a blow.'" "if i talk like an ass you talk like a coward," replied the stranger. "do you call it fair to stand with your bow and arrow ready to shoot at me when i have only a stick to defend myself with? i tell you, you are a coward. you are afraid of the beating i would give you." robin was not a coward, and he was not afraid. so he threw his bow and arrows on the bank behind him. "you are a big, boastful bully," he said. "just wait there until i get a stick. i hope i may give you as good a beating as you deserve." the stranger laughed. "i won't run away; don't be afraid," he said. robin hood stepped to a thicket of trees and cut himself a good, thick oak stick. while he was doing this, he looked at the stranger, and saw that he was not only taller but much stronger than himself. however, that did not frighten robin in the least. he was rather glad of it indeed. the stranger had said he was a coward. he meant to prove to him that he was not. back he came with a fine big stick in his hand and a smile on his face. the idea of a real good fight had made his bad temper fly away, for, like king richard, robin hood was rather fond of a fight. "we will fight on the bridge," said he, "and whoever first falls into the river has lost the battle." "all right," said the stranger. "whatever you like. i'm not afraid." then they fell to, with right good will. it was very difficult to fight standing on such a narrow bridge. they kept swaying backwards and forwards trying to keep their balance. with every stroke the bridge bent and trembled beneath them as if it would break. all the same they managed to give each other some tremendous blows. first robin gave the stranger such a bang that his very bones seemed to ring. "aha!" said he, "i'll give you as good as i get," and crack he went at robin's crown. bang, smash, crack, bang, they went at each other. their blows fell fast and thick as if they had been threshing corn. "the stranger gave robin a knock on the crown, which caused the blood to appear, then robin enraged, more fiercely engaged, and followed with blows more severe. "so thick and so fast did he lay it on him, with a passionate fury and ire, at every stroke he made him to smoke, as if he had been all on fire." when robin's blows came so fast and furious, the stranger felt he could not stand it much longer. gathering all his strength, with one mighty blow he sent robin backwards, right into the river. head over heels he went, and disappeared under the water. the stranger very nearly fell in after him. he was so astonished at robin's sudden disappearance that he could not think for a minute or two where he had vanished to. he knelt down on the bridge, and stared into the water. "hallo, my good man," he called. "hallo, where are you?" he thought he had drowned robin, and he had not meant to do that. all the same he could not help laughing. robin had looked so funny as he tumbled into the water. "i'm here," called robin, from far down the river. "i'm all right. i'm just swimming with the tide." the current was very strong and had carried him down the river a good way. he was, however, gradually making for the bank. soon he caught hold of the overhanging branches of a tree and pulled himself out. the stranger came running to help him too. "you are not an easy man to beat or to drown either," he said with a laugh, as he helped robin on to dry land again. "well," said robin, laughing too, "i must own that you are a brave man and a good fighter. it was a fair fight, and you have won the battle. i don't want to quarrel with you any more. will you shake hands and be friends with me?" "with all my heart," said the stranger. "it is a long time since i have met any one who could use a stick as you can." so they shook hands like the best of friends, and quite forgot that a few minutes before they had been banging and battering each other as hard as they could. then robin put his bugle-horn to his mouth, and blew a loud, loud blast. "the echoes of which through the valleys did ring, at which his stout bowmen appeared, and clothed in green, most gay to be seen, so up to their master they steered." when the stranger saw all these fine men, dressed in green, and carrying bows and arrows, come running to robin he was very much astonished. "o master dear, what has happened?" cried will stutely, the leader, as he ran up. "you have a great cut in your forehead, and you are soaked through and through," he added, laying his hand on robin's arm. "it is nothing," laughed robin. "this young fellow and i have been having a fight. he cracked my crown and then tumbled me into the river." when they heard that, robin's men were very angry. "if he has tumbled our master into the river, we will tumble him in," said they; "we will see how he likes that." and they seized him, and would have dragged him to the water to drown him, but robin called out, "stop, stop! it was a fair fight. he is a brave man, and we are very good friends now." then turning to the stranger, robin bowed politely to him, saying, "i beg you to forgive my men. they will not harm you now they know that you are my friend, for i am robin hood." the stranger was very much astonished when he heard that he had actually been fighting with bold robin hood, of whom he had heard so many tales. "if you will come and live with me and my merry men," went on robin, "i will give you a suit of lincoln green. i will teach you how to use bow and arrows as well as you use your good stick." "i should like nothing better," replied the stranger. "my name is john little, and i promise to serve you faithfully." "john little!" said will stutely laughing. "john little! what a name for a man that height! john little! why he is seven feet tall if he is an inch!" will laughed and laughed, till the tears ran down his face. he thought it was such a funny name for so big a man. robin laughed because will laughed. then john little laughed because robin laughed. soon they were all laughing as hard as they could. the wind carried the sound of it away, till the folk in the villages round about said, "hark! how robin hood and his merry men do laugh!" "well," said robin at last, "i have heard it said, 'laugh and grow fat,' but if we don't get some dinner soon i think we will all grow very lean. come along, my little john, i'm sure you must be hungry too." "little john," said will stutely, "that's the very name for him. we must christen him again, and i will be his godfather." back to their forest home they all went, laughing and talking as merrily as possible, taking john little along with them. dinner was waiting for them when they arrived. the head cook was looking anxiously through the trees, saying, "i do wish master robin would come, or the roast venison will be too much cooked and the rabbits will be stewed to rags." just at that moment they appeared. the cook was struck dumb at the sight of the giant, stalking along beside robin. "where has master gotten that maypole?" he said, laughing to himself, as he ran away to dish the dinner. they had a very merry dinner. robin found that john was not only a good fighter but that he had a wise head and a witty tongue. he was more and more delighted with his new companion. but will and the others had not forgotten that he was to be christened again. seven of them came behind him, and in spite of all his kicking and struggling wrapped him up in a long, green cloak, pretending he was a baby. it was a very noisy christening. the men all shouted and laughed. john little laughed and screamed in turn, and kicked and struggled all the time. "hush, baby, hush," they said. but the seven-foot baby wouldn't hush. then will stepped up beside him and began to speak. "this infant was called john little, quoth he, which name shall be changed anon, the words we'll transpose, so wherever he goes, his name shall be called little john." they had some buckets of water ready. these they poured over poor little john till he was as wet as robin had been after he fell into the river. the men roared with laughter. little john looked so funny as he rolled about on the grass, trying to get out of his long, wet, green robe. he looked just like a huge green caterpillar. robin laughed as much as any one. at last he said, "now, will, don't you think that is enough?" "not a bit," said will. "you wouldn't let us duck him in the river when we had him there so we have brought the river to him." at last all the buckets were empty, and the christening was over. then all the men stood round in a ring and gave three cheers for little john, robin's new man. "then robin he took the sweet pretty babe, and clothed him from top to toe in garments of green, most gay to be seen, and gave him a curious longbow." after that they sang, danced and played the whole afternoon. then when the sun sank and the long, cool shadows fell across the grass they all said "good night" and went off into their caves to sleep. from that day little john always lived with robin. they became very, very great friends and little john was next to robin in command of the men. "and so ever after as long as he lived, although he was proper and tall, yet, nevertheless, the truth to express, still little john they did him call." iii robin hood and the butcher the sheriff of nottingham hated robin and would have been very glad if any one had killed him. the sheriff was a very unkind man. he treated the poor saxons very badly. he often took away all their money, and their houses and left them to starve. sometimes, for a very little fault, he would cut off their ears or fingers. the poor people used to go into the wood, and robin would give them food and money. sometimes they went home again, but very often they stayed with him, and became his men. the sheriff knew this, so he hated robin all the more, and he was never so happy as when he had caught one of robin's men and locked him up in prison. but try how he might, he could not catch robin. all the same robin used to go to nottingham very often, but he was always so well disguised that the sheriff never knew him. so he always escaped. the sheriff was too much afraid of him to go into the forest to try to take him. he knew his men were no match for robin's. robin's men served him and fought for him because they loved him. the sheriff's men only served him because they feared him. one day robin was walking through the forest when he met a butcher. this butcher was riding gaily along to the market at nottingham. he was dressed in a blue linen coat, with leather belt. on either side of his strong gray pony hung a basket full of meat. in these days as there were no trains, everything had to be sent by road. the roads were so bad that even carts could not go along them very much, for the wheels stuck in the mud. everything was carried on horseback, in sacks or baskets called panniers. the butcher rode gaily along, whistling as he went. suddenly robin stepped from under the trees and stopped him. "what have you there, my man?" he asked. "butcher's meat," replied the man. "fine prime beef and mutton for nottingham market. do you want to buy some?" "yes, i do," said robin. "i'll buy it all and your pony too. how much do you want for it? i should like to go to nottingham and see what kind of a butcher i will make:" so the butcher sold his pony and all his meat to robin. then robin changed clothes with him. he put on the butcher's blue clothes and leather belt, and the butcher went off in robin's suit of lincoln green, feeling very grand indeed. then robin mounted his pony and off he went to nottingham to sell his meat at the market. when he arrived he found the whole town in a bustle. in those days there were very few shops, so every one used to go to market to buy and sell. the country people brought butter and eggs and honey to sell. with the money they got they bought platters and mugs, pots and pans, or whatever they wanted, and took it back to the country with them. all sorts of people came to buy: fine ladies and poor women, rich knights and gentlemen, and humble workers, every one pushing and crowding together. robin found it quite difficult to drive his pony through the crowd to the corner of the market-place where the butchers had their stalls. he got there at last, however, laid out his meat, and began to cry with the best of them. "prime meat, ladies. come and buy. cheapest meat in all the market, ladies. come buy, come buy. twopence a pound, ladies. twopence a pound. come buy. come buy." "what!" said every one, "beef at twopence a pound! i never heard of such a thing. why it is generally tenpence." you see robin knew nothing at all about selling meat, as he never bought any. he and his men used to live on what they shot in the forest. when it became known that there was a new butcher, who was selling his meat for twopence a pound, every one came crowding round his stall eager to buy. all the other butchers stood idle until robin had no more beef and mutton left to sell. as these butchers had nothing to do, they began to talk among themselves and say, "who is this man? he has never been here before." "do you think he has stolen the meat?" "perhaps his father has just died and left him a business." "well, his money won't last long at this rate." "the sooner he loses it all, the better for us. we will never be able to sell anything as long as he comes here giving away beef at twopence a pound." "it is perfectly ridiculous," said one old man, who seemed to be the chief butcher. "these fifty years have i come and gone to nottingham market, and i have never seen the like of it--never. he is ruining the trade, that's what he is doing." they stood at their stalls sulky and cross, while all their customers crowded round robin. shouts of laughter came from his corner, for he was not only selling beef and mutton, but making jokes about it all the time. "i tell you what," said the old butcher, "it is no use standing here doing nothing. we had better go and talk to him, and find out, if we can, who he is. we must ask him to come and have dinner with us and the sheriff in the town hall to-day." for on market days the butchers used to have dinner all together in the town hall, after market was over, and the sheriff used to come and have dinner with them. "so, the butchers stepped up to jolly robin, acquainted with him for to be; come, butcher, one said, we be all of one trade, come, will you go dine with me?" "thank you," said robin, "i should like nothing better. i have had a busy morning and am very hungry and thirsty." "come along, then," said the butchers. the old man led the way with robin, and the others followed two by two. as they walked along, the old butcher began asking robin questions, to try and find out something about him. "you have not been here before?" he said. "have i not?" replied robin. "i have not seen you, at least." "have you not?" "you are new to the business?" "am i?" "well, you seem to be," said the old butcher, getting rather cross. "do i?" replied robin, laughing. at last they came to the town hall, and though they had talked all the time the old butcher had got nothing out of robin, and was not a bit the wiser. the sheriff's house was close to the town hall, so as dinner was not quite ready all the butchers went to say "how do you do?" to the sheriff's wife. she received them very kindly, and was quite interested in robin when she heard that he was the new butcher who had been selling such wonderfully cheap meat. robin had such pleasant manners too, that she thought he was a very nice man indeed. she was quite sorry when the sheriff came and took him away, saying dinner was ready. "i hope to see you again, kind sir," she said when saying good-by. "come to see me next time you have meat to sell." "thank you, lady, i will not forget your kindness," replied robin, bowing low. at dinner the sheriff sat at one end of the table and the old butcher at the other. robin, as the greatest stranger, had the place of honor on the sheriff's right hand. at first the dinner was very dull. all the butchers were sulky and cross, only robin was merry. he could not help laughing to himself at the idea of dining with his great enemy the sheriff of nottingham. and not only dining with him, but sitting on his right hand, and being treated as an honored guest. if the sheriff had only known, poor robin would very soon have been locked up in a dark dungeon, eating dry bread instead of apple-pie and custard and all the fine things they were having for dinner. however, robin was so merry, that very soon the butchers forgot to be cross and sulky. before the end of dinner all were laughing till their sides ached. only the sheriff was grave and thinking hard. he was a greedy old man, and he was saying to himself, "this silly young fellow evidently does not know the value of things. if he has any cattle i might buy them from him for very little. i could sell them again to the butchers for a good price. in that way i should make a lot of money." after dinner he took robin by the arm and led him aside. "see here, young man," he said, "i like your looks. but you seem new to this business. now, don't you trust these men," pointing to the butchers. "they are all as ready as can be to cheat you. you take my advice. if you have any cattle to sell, come to me. i'll give you a good price." "thank you," said robin, "it is most kind of you." "hast thou any horned beasts, the sheriff then said, good fellow, to sell to me? yes, that i have, good master sheriff, i have hundreds two or three. "and a hundred acres of good free land, if you please it for to see; and i'll make you as good assurance of it, as ever my father did me." the sheriff nearly danced for joy when he heard that robin had so many horned cattle for sale. he had quite made up his mind that it would be very easy to cheat this silly young fellow. already he began to count the money he would make. he was such a greedy old man. but there was a wicked twinkle in robin's eye. "now, young man, when can i see these horned beasts of yours?" asked the sheriff. "i can't buy a pig in a poke, you know. i must see them first. and the land too, and the land too," he added, rubbing his hands, and jumping about in excitement. "the sooner the better," said robin. "i start for home to-morrow morning. if you like to ride with me i will show you the horned beasts and the land too." "capital, capital," said the sheriff. "to-morrow morning then, after breakfast, i go with you. and see here, young man," he added, catching hold of robin's coat-tails as he was going away, "you won't go and sell to any one else in the meantime? it is a bargain, isn't it?" "oh, certainly. i won't even speak of it to any one," replied robin; and he went away, laughing heartily to himself. that night the sheriff went into his counting-house and counted out three hundred pounds in gold. he tied it up in three bags, one hundred pounds in each bag. "it's a lot of money," he said to himself, "a lot of money. still, i suppose, i must pay him something for his cattle. but it is a lot of money to part with," and he heaved a big sigh. he put the gold underneath his pillow in case any one should steal it during the night. then he went to bed and tried to sleep. but he was too excited; besides the gold under his pillow made it so hard and knobby that it was most uncomfortable. at last the night passed, and in the morning. "the sheriff he saddled his good palfrey, and with three hundred pounds in gold away he went with bold robin hood, his horned beasts to behold." the sun shone and the birds sang as they merrily rode along. when the sheriff saw that they were taking the road to sherwood forest, he began to feel a little nervous. "there is a bold, bad man in these woods," he said. "he is called robin hood. he robs people, he--do you think we will meet him?" "i am quite sure we won't meet him," replied robin with a laugh. "well, i hope not, i am sure," said the sheriff. "i never dare to ride through the forest unless i have my soldiers with me. he is a bold, bad man." robin only laughed, and they rode on right into the forest. "but when a little farther they came, bold robin he chanced to spy an hundred head of good fat deer come tripping the sheriff full nigh." "look there," he cried, "look! what do you think of my horned beasts?" "i think," said the sheriff, in a trembling voice, "i think i should like to go back to nottingham." "what! and not buy any horned cattle? what is the matter with them? are they not fine and fat? are they not a beautiful color? come, come, sheriff, when you have brought the money for them too." at the mention of money the sheriff turned quite pale and clutched hold of his bags. "young man," he said, "i don't like you at all. i tell you i want to go back to nottingham. this isn't money i have in my bags, it is only pebble-stones." "then robin put his horn to his mouth, and blew out blasts three; then quickly and anon there came little john, and all his company." "good morning, little john," said robin. "good morning, master robin," he replied. "what orders have you for to-day?" "well, in the first place i hope you have something nice for dinner, because i have brought the sheriff of nottingham to dine with us," answered robin. "yes," said little john, "the cooks are busy already as we thought you might bring some one back with you. but we hardly expected so fine a guest as the sheriff of nottingham," he added, making a low bow to him. "i hope he intends to pay honestly." for that was robin hood's way. he always gave a very fine dinner to these naughty men who had stolen money from poor people, and then he made them pay a great deal of money for it. the sheriff was very much afraid when he knew that he had really fallen into the hands of robin hood. he was angry too when he thought that he had actually had robin in his own house the day before, and could so easily have caught and put him in prison, if he had only known. they had a very fine dinner, and the sheriff began to feel quite comfortable and to think he was going to get off easily, when robin said, "now, master sheriff, you must pay for your dinner." "oh! indeed i am a poor man," said the sheriff, "i have no money." "no money! what have you in your saddle-bags, then?" asked robin. "only pebbles, nothing but pebbles, as i told you before," replied the frightened sheriff. "little john, go and search the sheriff's saddle-bags," said robin. little john did as he was told, and counted out three hundred pounds upon the ground. "sheriff," said robin sternly, "i shall keep all this money and divide it among my men. it is not half as much as you have stolen from them. if you had told me the truth about it, i might have given you some back. but i always punish people who tell lies. you have done so many evil deeds," he went on, "that you deserve to be hanged." the poor sheriff shook in his shoes. "hanged you should be," continued robin, "but your good wife was kind to me yesterday. for her sake, i let you go. but if you are not kinder to my people i will not let you off so easily another time." and robin called for the sheriff's pony. "then robin he brought him through the wood, and set him on his dapple gray: oh, have me commended to your wife at home, so robin went laughing away." guy of warwick adapted by h.e. marshall i guy's early adventures and his fight with the dun cow long ago england was divided into several kingdoms, each having a king. in a great battle the king of northumbria was defeated and one of his lords, gordian, lost all he owned. he and his wife brunhilda journeyed forth to seek a new home and at last reached warwick, where gordian was made the steward of lord rohand. not long after brunhilda and gordian went to live in warwick, their little son guy was born. as he grew older he became a great favorite and was often invited to the castle. lord rohand heard of guy and asked him to a great dinner at warwick castle and afterwards to join in a tournament. to guy was given a seat quite near the earl and opposite his lovely daughter phyllis. she was the most beautiful lady in the kingdom and guy longed to show her how well he could fight. never did guy fight so well; he conquered every one of the knights, and won the prize. phyllis crowned him with roses and put the chain of gold around his neck. after this phyllis and guy were much together and at last guy said suddenly, "phyllis, i love thee. i cannot help it." in great anger she sent him away. guy grew very sad and phyllis very lonely and at length she sent for guy and said, "go away and make thyself famous, then will i marry thee." guy rode gaily away and sailed over to germany. there he heard of a great tournament. whoever fought best was to marry the emperor's daughter blanche, which means white. besides marrying the princess, the bravest knight was to receive a pure white horse, two white hounds, and a white falcon. so it was called the white tournament. when guy told the herald that he was the son of lord gordian he was admitted. all the lords and ladies looked at him scornfully because he wore plain black armor with nothing painted upon his shield. as he had not worn spurs, he was not yet a knight. guy entered the lists and met and conquered prince philaner, the emperor's son, duke otto, duke ranier, and duke louvain. guy took the prize offered with the exception of the hand of blanche. "for my fair phyllis alone i keep my love," he said. guy went back to england and heard that a terrible dun-colored cow had appeared in warwickshire. it was twelve feet high and eighteen feet long. its horns were thicker than an elephant's tusks curled and twisted. the king said that whoever would kill the dun cow should be made a knight and receive a great deal of land and money. guy went out to meet him and after a fearful encounter was able to deal a deathblow with his battle-axe behind the beast's ear. then the king gave the new knight a pair of golden spurs, and lady phyllis fastened them on. in memory of guy's deed one rib of the dun cow was hung up at the gate of coventry and another in the castle of warwick. ii travels and deeds in many lands guy next went to france, where he was wounded at a tournament. his enemy, duke otto, bribed fifteen villains to lie in wait, take him and cast him into prison. with the help of his friend heraud, guy was able to slay them all, but one of the traitor men smote heraud so hard that he fell to the ground as if dead. one day news was brought to guy that ledgwin of louvain was shut up in his city of arrascoun sore beset by the emperor. gathering his soldiers and knights together he set out to help his friend and was overjoyed to find heraud in the guise of a pilgrim sitting by the roadside. heraud had been nursed back to health by a kind hermit. at once he put on armor and rode forth with guy to the city of arrascoun to release ledgwin. there was a great battle but the almains who surrounded the city were defeated and the emperor yielded and forgave ledgwin. while in greece, guy went out hunting and came upon a most wonderful sight, a conflict between a lion and a dragon. just when the dragon was about to crush the lion guy drew his sword, and setting spurs to his horse, sprang upon the dragon. the fight was then between the dragon and guy. it seemed at first that the dragon would be the victor, but, like a flash, guy leaped from his horse and plunged his sword deep into the brute's side. for a moment his speckled crest quivered, then all was still. guy thought he would have to kill the lion too, but as it came near it licked guy's feet and fawned upon him, purring softly like a great pussy-cat. when guy rode back the lion trotted after him and lived with him every day. guy had an enemy at court, morgadour, who hated the brave knight and said, "i cannot kill thee, guy of warwick, but i will grieve thee. i will kill thy lion." this he did in secret. the king was angry when the deed was discovered and told guy to meet him in combat, which he did, and slew morgadour. laden with riches, guy reached home again, this time to marry the beautiful phyllis. there was a great and splendid wedding. for fifteen days the feasting and merriment lasted. for some time guy and phyllis lived happily together. then one sad day earl rohand died and guy became earl of warwick. as the new earl was one day thinking of his past life, it seemed to him that he had caused much bloodshed. thereupon he decided to go to the holy land, and there, at the sepulcher of our lord, do penance for his sins. phyllis begged him to stay; but guy said, "i must go." so, dressed in pilgrim robes, with staff in hand he set out on his long journey. one day as he walked he came upon an old man who was sad because the giant ameraunt was keeping his daughter and fifteen sons in a strong castle. "i am earl jonas of durras," he said, "and i seek guy of warwick to help me." guy said if the earl would give him meat and drink, weapons and armor, he would see what he could do. a splendid coat of mail was brought with shield and sword. guy called to the giant to come forth. "that will i," replied the giant, "and make short work with thee." ameraunt stalked forth and the fight began. all day it lasted before guy with his sword cut the giant's head off. taking the keys of the castle, which lay on the ground, he immediately released earl of jonas's children and other noble knights and brave ladies. putting off his armor, he dressed himself once more in his pilgrim's robe, and with his staff in his hand set out again upon his journey. iii how guy fought with the giant colbrand for some time after guy went away phyllis was very sorrowful. she wept and mourned, and was so sad that she longed to die. at times she even thought of killing herself. she would draw out guy's great sword, which he had left behind, and think how easy it would be to run it through her heart. but she remembered that the good fairies had promised to send her a little son, and so she made up her mind to live until he came. when the good fairies brought the baby she called him reinbroun, and he was so pretty and so dear that phyllis was comforted. then, because her lord was far away, and could not attend to his great lands nor to the ruling of his many servants, phyllis did so for him. she ruled and ordered her household well; she made new roads and rebuilt bridges which had been broken down. she journeyed through all the land, seeing that wrong was made right and evildoers punished. she fed the poor, tended the sick, and comforted those in sorrow, and, besides all this, she built great churches and abbeys. so year after year passed, but still guy did not return. all day phyllis was busy and had no time for grief, but when evening came she would go to pace up and down the path (which to this day is called "fair phyllis's walk") where she and guy had often walked together. now as she wandered there alone, the hot, slow tears would come, and she would feel miserable and forsaken. at last, after many years full of adventures and travel, guy reached england once more. he was now an old man. his beard was long, his hair had grown white, and in the weather-beaten pilgrim none could recognize the gallant knight and earl, guy of warwick. when guy landed in england he found the whole country in sore dread. for anlaf, king of denmark, had invaded england with a great army. with fire and sword he had wasted the land, sparing neither tower nor town, man, woman, nor child, but destroying all that came in his path. fight how they might, the english could not drive out the danes. now they were in deep despair, for the enemy lay before the king's city of winchester. with them was a terrible giant called colbrand, and anlaf had sent a message to king athelstane, as the king who now reigned over all england was called, demanding that he should either find a champion to fight with colbrand or deliver over his kingdom. so the king had sent messengers north, south, east, and west, but in all the land no knight could be found who was brave enough to face the awful giant. and now within the great church of winchester the king with his priests and people knelt, praying god to send a champion. "where, then, is heraud?" asked guy of the man who told this tale. "where is heraud, who never yet forsook man in need?" "alas! he has gone far beyond the seas," replied the man, "and so has guy of warwick. we know not where they are." then guy took his staff and turned his steps toward winchester. coming there, he found the king sitting among his wise men. "i bid you," he was saying to them, "give me some counsel how i may defend my country against the danes. is there any knight among you who will fight this giant? half my kingdom he shall have, and that gladly, if he conquer." but all the wise men, knights and nobles, stood silent and looked upon the ground. "oh, we is me!" then cried the king, "that i rule over such cowards. to what have my english come that i may not find one knight among them bold enough to do battle for his king and country? oh that guy of warwick were here!" then through the bright crowd of steel-clad nobles there came a tall old man, dressed in a worn, dark, pilgrim's robe, with bare feet and head, and a staff in his hand. "my lord king," he said, "i will fight for thee." "thou," said the king in astonishment, "thou seemest more fit to pray than to fight for us." "believe me, my lord king," said guy, for of course it was he, "this hand has often held a sword, and never yet have i been worsted in fight." "then since there is none other," said the king, "fight, and god strengthen thee." now guy was very tall, and no armor could be found anywhere to fit him. "send to the countess of warwick," said guy at last. "ask her to lend the earl's weapons and armor for the saving of england." "that is well thought of," said the king. so a swift messenger was sent to warwick castle, and he presently returned with guy's armor. he at once put it on, and the people marveled that it should fit him so well, for none knew, or guessed, that the pilgrim was guy himself. guy went then out to meet the giant, and all the people crowded to the walls of winchester to watch their champion fight. colbrand came forth. he was so huge that no horse could carry him, and he wore a whole wagon-load of weapons. his armor was pitch-black except his shield, which was blood-red and had a white owl painted upon it. he was a fearsome sight to look upon, and as he strode along shaking his spear every one trembled for guy. it was a terrible and unequal fight. tall though guy was, he could reach no higher than the giant's shoulder with his spear, but yet he wounded him again and again. "i have never fought with any like thee," cried colbrand. "yield, and i will ask king anlaf to make thee a general in the danish army. castle and tower shalt thou have, and everything that thou canst desire, if thou but do as i counsel thee." "better death than that," replied guy, and still fought on. at last, taking his battle-axe in both hands, he gave colbrand such a blow that his sword dropped to the ground. as the giant reeled under the stroke, guy raised his battle-axe once more. "his good axe he reared on high with both hands full mightily; he smote him in the neck so well, that the head flew that very deal. the giant dead on the earth lay; the danes made great sorrow that day." seeing their champion fall, the danes fled to their ships. england was saved. then out of the city came all the people with the priests and king in great procession, and singing hymns of praise as they went, they led guy back. the king brought guy to his palace and offered him splendid robes and great rewards, even to the half of the kingdom. but guy would have none of them. "give me my pilgrim's dress again," he said. and, in spite of all the king could say, he put off his fine armor and dressed himself again in his dark pilgrim's robe. "tell me at least thy name," said the king, "so that the minstrels may sing of thy great deeds, and that in years to come the people may remember and bless thee." "bless god, not me," replied guy. "he it was gave me strength and power against the giant." "then if thou wilt not that the people know," said the king, "tell thy name to me alone." "so be it," said guy. "walk with me half a mile out of the city, thou and i alone. then will i tell thee my name." so the king in his royal robes, and the pilgrim in his dull, dark gown, passed together out of the city gate. when they had gone half a mile, guy stood still. "sire," he said, "thou wouldst know my name. i am guy of warwick, thine own knight. once thou didst love me well, now i am as thou dost see me." at first the king could hardly believe that this poor man was really the great earl of warwick, but when he became sure of it he threw his arms round guy and kissed him. "dear friend, we have long mourned for thee as dead," he cried. "now thou wilt come with me and help me to rule, and i will honor thee above all men." but guy would not go back. he made the king promise to tell no man who he was. this he did for the sake of the oath which he had sworn, that he would never again fight for glory but only for a righteous cause. then once more they kissed, and each turned his own way, the king going sadly back to winchester. as he entered the gates the people crowded round him, eager to know who the pilgrim was. but king athelstane held up his hand. "peace," he said, "i indeed know, but i may not tell you. go to your homes, thank god for your deliverance, and pray for him who overcame the giant." iv how at last guy went home after guy left the king, he journeyed on towards warwick. and when he came to the town over which he was lord and master no one knew him. so he mixed with the poor men who came every morning to the castle gates to receive food from the countess. guy listened to what those round him said. he heard them praise and bless phyllis, calling her the best woman that had ever lived, and his heart was glad. pale and trembling, guy bent before his wife, to receive food from her hands. he was so changed that even she did not know him, but she felt very sorry for the poor man who seemed so thin and worn, so she spoke kindly to him and gave him more food than the others, and told him to come every day as long as he lived. guy thanked her, and turned slowly away. he remembered that a hermit lived in a cave not far off, and to him he went. but when he reached the cave he found it empty. the hermit had been dead many years. guy then made up his mind to live in the cave. every morning he went to the castle to receive food from phyllis. but he would only take the simplest things, often eating nothing but bread and drinking water from the spring which flowed near. every evening guy could hear phyllis as she paced to and fro, for her walk was not far from the hermit's cave. but still some strange enchantment, as it were, held him dumb, and although he still loved her, although he knew that she sorrowed and longed for him to return home, he could not say, "i am here." at last one day guy became very ill. he had no longer strength to go to the castle, so calling a passing countryman to him, he gave him a ring. it was the ring which phyllis had given him, and which he had kept ever with him through all his pilgrimage. "take this," he said to the countryman, "and carry it to fair phyllis, the countess of warwick." but the countryman was afraid. "i have never spoken to a great lady, and i do not know how to address her," he said. "besides she may be angry with me, and i shall get into trouble if i carry a ring to the earl's wife." "do not fear," said guy, "the countess will not be angry; rather will she reward thee. tell her to come hastily or i die." so the countryman took the ring, and, coming to the countess fell upon his knees. "lady," he said, "a pilgrim who lives yonder in the forest sends thee this ring." phyllis took the ring, and, as she looked at it, a strange light came into her eyes. like one in a dream she passed her hand over her forehead. "it is mine own lord, sir guy," she cried, and fell senseless to the ground. the countryman was much frightened, but her ladies ran to the countess and raised her, and soon she opened her eyes. "friend," she said to the countryman, "tell me where is he who gave thee this ring?" "he is in the hermit's cave," replied the man, "and he bade me to say that thou must hasten ere he die." right glad was phyllis at the thought of seeing guy again, yet sorrowful lest she should find him dead. so, calling for her mule, she mounted and rode speedily towards the cave, the countryman running before to show the way. and when they came to the cave phyllis went in, and kneeling beside guy, put her arms round him, crying bitterly. "dear," he said, "weep not, for i go where sorrows end." then "he kissed her fair and courteously, with that he died hastily." there was sorrow through all the land when it was known that guy, the great hero, was dead. he was buried with much pomp and ceremony, the king and queen, and all the greatest nobles of the land, coming to the funeral. and phyllis, not caring to live longer, now that she knew that guy was indeed dead, died too, and they were both buried in the same grave. then minstrels sang of guy's valiant deeds, and of how he had slain giants and dragons, and of how he might have been an emperor and a king over many lands, and how he was ever a gentle and courteous knight. "thus endeth the tale of sir guy: god, on his soul have mercy, and on ours when we be dead, and grant us in heaven to have stead." if you ever go to warwick you will see, in the castle there, guy's sword and armor. wise people will tell you that they never belonged to guy, but to some other men who lived much later. well, perhaps they are right. then, when you are at warwick, you must go to guy's cliff, which is about a mile and a half away. there, in the chapel, is a statue of guy, very old and broken. you will also see there fair phyllis's walk, the spring from which guy used to drink, still called guy's well, and the cave where he lived as a hermit, and where he died. upon the walls of the cave is some writing. you will not be able to read it, for it is saxon, but it means, "cast out, thou christ, from thy servant this burden." did guy, i wonder, or some other, in days of loneliness and despair, carve these words? if you ask why guy did these things--why, when he was happy and had everything he could desire, he threw away that happiness, and wandered out into the world to endure hunger, and weariness, and suffering--or why, when at last he came back and found his beautiful wife waiting and longing for his return, he did not go to her and be happy again, i cannot tell you certainly. but perhaps it may be explained in this way. in those far-off days there was nothing for great men to do but fight. what they had they had won by the sword, and they kept it by the sword. so they went swaggering over the world, fighting and shedding blood, and the more men a knight killed, the more blood he shed, the greater was his fame. it was impossible for a man to live in the world and be at peace with his fellows. so when he desired peace he had to cut himself off from the world and all who lived in it, and go to live like a hermit in some lonely cave, or wander as a pilgrim in desolate places. and so it was with guy. whittington and his cat adapted by ernest rhys in the reign of the famous king edward iii. there was a little boy called dick whittington, whose father and mother died when he was very young, so that he remembered nothing at all about them, and was left a ragged little fellow, running about a country village. as poor dick was not old enough to work, he was very badly off; he got but little for his dinner, and sometimes nothing at all for his breakfast; for the people who lived in the village were very poor indeed, and could not spare him much more than the parings of potatoes, and now and then a hard crust of bread. for all this dick whittington was a very sharp boy, and was always listening to what everybody talked about. on sunday he was sure to get near the farmers, as they sat talking on the tombstones in the churchyard, before the parson came; and once a week you might see little dick leaning against the sign-post of the village alehouse, where people stopped to drink as they came from the next market town; and when the barber's shop door was open, dick listened to all the news that his customers told one another. in this manner dick heard a great many very strange things about the great city called london; for the foolish country people at that time thought that folks in london were all fine gentlemen and ladies; and that there was singing and music there all day long; and that the streets were all paved with gold. one day a large wagon and eight horses, all with bells at their heads, drove through the village while dick was standing by the sign-post. he thought that this wagon must be going to the fine town of london; so he took courage, and asked the wagoner to let him walk with him by the side of the wagon. as soon as the wagoner heard that poor dick had no father or mother, and saw by his ragged clothes that he could not be worse off than he was, he told him he might go if he would, so they set off together. i could never find out how little dick contrived to get meat and drink on the road; nor how he could walk so far, for it was a long way; nor what he did at night for a place to lie down to sleep in. perhaps some good-natured people in the towns that he passed through, when they saw he was a poor little ragged boy, gave him something to eat; and perhaps the wagoner let him get into the wagon at night, and take a nap upon one of the boxes or large parcels in the wagon. dick, however, got safe to london, and was in such a hurry to see the fine streets paved all over with gold, that i am afraid he did not even stay to thank the kind wagoner; but ran off as fast as his legs would carry him, through many of the streets, thinking every moment to come to those that were paved with gold; for dick had seen a guinea three times in his own little village, and remembered what a deal of money it brought in change; so he thought he had nothing to do but to take up some little bits of the pavement, and should then have as much money as he could wish for. poor dick ran till he was tired, and had quite forgot his friend the wagoner; but at last, finding it grow dark, and that every way he turned he saw nothing but dirt instead of gold, he sat down in a dark corner and cried himself to sleep. little dick was all night in the streets; and next morning, being very hungry, he got up and walked about, and asked everybody he met to give him a halfpenny to keep him from starving; but nobody stayed to answer him, and only two or three gave him a halfpenny; so that the poor boy was soon quite weak and faint for the want of victuals. at last a good-natured looking gentleman saw how hungry he looked. "why don't you go to work, my lad?" said he to dick. "that i would, but i do not know how to get any," answered dick. "if you are willing, come along with me," said the gentleman, and took him to a hay-field, where dick worked briskly, and lived merrily till the hay was made. after this he found himself as badly off as before; and being almost starved again, he laid himself down at the door of mr. fitzwarren, a rich merchant. here he was soon seen by the cook, who was an ill-tempered creature, and happened just then to be very busy preparing dinner for her master and mistress; so she called out to poor dick: "what business have you there, you lazy rogue? there is nothing else but beggars; if you do not take yourself away, we will see how you will like a sousing of some dish-water; i have some here hot enough to make you jump." just at that time mr. fitzwarren himself came home to dinner; and when he saw a dirty ragged boy lying at the door, he said to him: "why do you lie there, my boy? you seem old enough to work; i am afraid you are inclined to be lazy." "no, indeed, sir," said dick to him, "that is not the case, for i would work with all my heart, but i do not know anybody, and i believe i am very sick for the want of food." "poor fellow, get up; let me see what ails you." dick now tried to rise, but was obliged to lie down again, being too weak to stand, for he had not eaten any food for three days, and was no longer able to run about and beg a halfpenny of people in the street. so the kind merchant ordered him to be taken into the house, and have a good dinner given him, and be kept to do what dirty work he was able to do for the cook. little dick would have lived very happy in this good family if it had not been for the ill-natured cook, who was finding fault and scolding him from morning to night, and besides, she was so fond of basting, that when she had no meat to baste, she would baste poor dick's head and shoulders with a broom, or anything else that happened to fall in her way. at last her ill-usage of him was told to alice, mr. fitzwarren's daughter, who told the cook she should be turned away if she did not treat him kinder. the ill-humor of the cook was now a little amended; but besides this dick had another hardship to get over. his bed stood in a garret, where there were so many holes in the floor and the walls that every night he was tormented with rats and mice. a gentleman having given dick a penny for cleaning his shoes, he thought he would buy a cat with it. the next day he saw a girl with a cat, and asked her if she would let him have it for a penny. the girl said she would, and at the same time told him the cat was an excellent mouser. dick hid his cat in the garret, and always took care to carry a part of his dinner to her; and in a short time he had no more trouble with the rats and mice, but slept quite sound every night. soon after this, his master had a ship ready to sail; and as he thought it right that all his servants should have some chance for good fortune as well as himself, he called them all into the parlor and asked them what they would send out. they all had something that they were willing to venture except poor dick, who had neither money nor goods, and therefore could send nothing. for this reason he did not come into the parlor with the rest; but miss alice guessed what was the matter, and ordered him to be called in. she then said she would lay down some money for him, from her own purse; but the father told her this would not do, for it must be something of his own. when poor dick heard this, he said he had nothing but a cat which he bought for a penny some time since of a little girl. "fetch your cat then, my good boy," said mr. fitzwarren, "and let her go." dick went upstairs and brought down poor puss, with tears in his eyes, and gave her to the captain; for he said he should now be kept awake again all night by the rats and mice. all the company laughed at dick's odd venture; and miss alice, who felt pity for the poor boy, gave him some money to buy another cat. this, and many other marks of kindness shown him by miss alice made the ill-tempered cook jealous of poor dick, and she began to use him more cruelly than ever, and always made game of him for sending his cat to sea. she asked him if he thought his cat would sell for as much money as would buy a stick to beat him. at last poor dick could not bear this usage any longer, and he thought he would run away from his place; so he packed up his few things, and started very early in the morning, on all-hallow's, which is the first of november. he walked as far as holloway; and there sat down on a stone, which to this day is called whittington's stone, and began to think to himself which road he should take as he went onwards. while he was thinking what he should do, the bells of bow church, which at that time had only six, began to ring, and he fancied their sound seemed to say to him: "turn again, whittington, lord mayor of london." "lord mayor of london!" said he to himself. "why, to be sure, i would put up with almost anything now, to be lord mayor of london, and ride in a fine coach, when i grow to be a man! well, i will go back, and think nothing of the cuffing and scolding of the old cook, if i am to be lord mayor of london at last." dick went back, and was lucky enough to get into the house, and set about his work, before the old cook came downstairs. the ship, with the cat on board, was a long time at sea; and was at last driven by the winds on a part of the coast of barbary, where the only people were the moors, that the english had never known before. the people then came in great numbers to see the sailors, who were of different color to themselves, and treated them very civilly; and, when they became better acquainted, were very eager to buy the fine things that the ship was loaded with. when the captain saw this, he sent patterns of the best things he had to the king of the country; who was so much pleased with them, that he sent for the captain to the palace. here they were placed, as it is the custom of the country, on rich carpets marked with gold and silver flowers. the king and queen were seated at the upper end of the room; and a number of dishes were brought in for dinner. they had not sat long, when a vast number of rats and mice rushed in, helping themselves from almost every dish. the captain wondered at this, and asked if these vermin were not very unpleasant. "oh, yes," said they, "very destructive; and the king would give half his treasure to be freed of them, for they not only destroy his dinner, as you see, but they assault him in his chamber and even in bed, so that he is obliged to be watched while he is sleeping for fear of them." the captain jumped for joy; he remembered poor whittington and his cat, and told the king he had a creature on board the ship that would despatch all these vermin immediately. the king's heart heaved so high at the joy which this news gave him that his turban dropped off his head. "bring this creature to me," says he; "vermin are dreadful in a court, and if she will perform what you say, i will load your ship with gold and jewels in exchange for her." the captain, who knew his business, took this opportunity to set forth the merits of mrs puss. he told his majesty that it would be inconvenient to part with her, as, when she was gone, the rats and mice might destroy the goods in the ship--but to oblige his majesty he would fetch her. "run, run!" said the queen; "i am impatient to see the dear creature." away went the captain to the ship, while another dinner was got ready. he put puss under his arm, and arrived at the place soon enough to see the table full of rats. when the cat saw them, she did not wait for bidding, but jumped out of the captain's arms, and in a few minutes laid almost all the rats and mice dead at her feet. the rest of them in their fright scampered away to their holes. the king and queen were quite charmed to get so easily rid of such plagues, and desired that the creature who had done them so great a kindness might be brought to them for inspection. upon which the captain called: "pussy, pussy, pussy!" and she came to him. he then presented her to the queen, who started back, and was afraid to touch a creature who had made such a havoc among the rats and mice. however, when the captain stroked the cat and called: "pussy, pussy," the queen also touched her and cried "putty, putty," for she had not learned english. he then put her down on the queen's lap, where she, purring, played with her majesty's hand, and then sung herself to sleep. the king, having seen the exploits of mrs. puss, and being informed that her kittens would stock the whole country, bargained with the captain for the whole ship's cargo, and then gave him ten times as much for the cat as all the rest amounted to. the captain then took leave of the royal party, and set sail with a fair wind for england, and after a happy voyage arrived safe in london. one morning mr. fitzwarren had just come to his counting-house and seated himself at the desk, when somebody came tap, tap, at the door. "who's there?" said mr. fitzwarren. "a friend," answered the other; "i come to bring you good news of your ship unicorn." the merchant, bustling up instantly, opened the door, and who should be seen waiting but the captain and factor, with a cabinet of jewels, and a bill of lading, for which the merchant lifted up his eyes and thanked heaven for sending him such a prosperous voyage. they then told the story of the cat, and showed the rich present that the king and queen had sent for her to poor dick. as soon as the merchant heard this, he called out to his servants, "go fetch him--we will tell him of the same; pray call him mr. whittington by name." mr. fitzwarren now showed himself to be a good man; for when some of his servants said so great a treasure was too much for dick, he answered: "god forbid i should deprive him of the value of a single penny." he then sent for dick, who at that time was scouring pots for the cook, and was quite dirty. mr. fitzwarren ordered a chair to be set for him, and so he began to think they were making game of him, at the same time begging them not to play tricks with a poor simple boy, but to let him go down again, if they pleased, to his work. "indeed, mr. whittington," said the merchant, "we are all quite in earnest with you, and i most heartily rejoice in the news these gentlemen have brought you; for the captain has sold your cat to the king of barbary, and brought you in return for her more riches than i possess in the whole world; and i wish you may long enjoy them!" mr. fitzwarren then told the men to open the great treasure they had brought with him; and said: "mr. whittington has nothing to do but to put it in some place of safety." poor dick hardly knew how to behave himself for joy. he begged his master to take what part of it he pleased, since he owed it all to his kindness. "no, no," answered mr. fitzwarren, "this is all your own; and i have no doubt but you will use it well." dick next asked his mistress, and then miss alice, to accept a part of his good fortune; but they would not, and at the same time told him they felt great joy at his good success. but this poor fellow was too kind-hearted to keep it all to himself; so he made a present to the captain, the mate, and the rest of mr. fitzwarren's servants; and even to the ill-natured old cook. after this mr. fitzwarren advised him to send for a proper tradesman and get himself dressed like a gentleman; and told him he was welcome to live in his house till he could provide himself with a better. when whittington's face was washed, his hair curled, his hat cocked, and he was dressed in a nice suit of clothes, he was as handsome and genteel as any young man who visited at mr. fitzwarren's; so that miss alice, who had once been so kind to him, and thought of him with pity, now looked upon him as fit to be her sweetheart; and the more so, no doubt, because whittington was now always thinking what he could do to oblige her, and making her the prettiest presents that could be. mr. fitzwarren soon saw their love for each other, and proposed to join them in marriage; and to this they both readily agreed. a day for the wedding was soon fixed; and they were attended to church by the lord mayor, the court aldermen, the sheriffs, and a great number of the richest merchants in london, whom they afterwards treated with a very rich feast. history tells us that mr. whittington and his lady lived in great splendor, and were very happy. they had several children. he was sheriff of london, also mayor, and received the honor of knighthood by henry v. the figure of sir richard whittington with his cat in his arms, carved in stone, was to be seen till the year over the archway of the old prison of newgate, that stood across newgate street. tom hickathrift adapted by ernest rhys long before william the conqueror, there dwelt a man in the isle of ely, named thomas hickathrift, a poor laboring man, but so strong that he was able to do in one day the ordinary work of two. he had an only son, whom he christened thomas, after his own name. the old man put his son to good learning, but he would take none, for he was none of the wisest, but something soft, and had no docility at all in him. god calling this good man, the father, to his rest, his mother, being tender of him, kept him by her hard labor as well as she could; but this was no easy matter, for tom would sit all day in the chimney-corner, instead of doing anything to help her, and although at the time we were speaking of he was only ten years old, he would eat more than four or five ordinary men, and was five feet and a half in height, and two feet and a half broad. his hand was more like a shoulder of mutton than a boy's hand, and he was altogether like a little monster; but yet his great strength was not known. tom's strength came to be known in this manner: his mother, it seems, as well as himself, for they lived in the days of merry old england, slept upon straw. now, being a tidy old creature, she must every now and then have a new bed, and one day having been promised a bottle of straw by a neighboring farmer, after much begging she got her son to fetch it. tom, however, made her borrow a cart-rope first, before he would budge a step, without saying what he wanted it for; but the poor woman, too glad to gain his help upon any terms, let him have it at once. tom, swinging the rope round his shoulder went to the farmer's, and found him with two men threshing in a barn. having told what he wanted, the farmer said he might take as much straw as he could carry. tom at once took him at his word, and, placing the rope in a right position, rapidly made up a bundle containing at least a cartload, the men jeering at him all the while. their merriment, however, did not last long, for tom flung the enormous bundle over his shoulders, and walked away with it without any difficulty, and left them all gaping after him. after this exploit tom was no longer allowed to be idle. every one tried to secure his services, and we are told many tales of his mighty strength. on one occasion, having been offered as great a bundle of fire wood as he could carry, he marched off with one of the largest trees in the forest. tom was also extremely fond of attending fairs; and in cudgeling, wrestling, or throwing the hammer, there was no one who could compete with him. he thought nothing of flinging a huge hammer into the middle of a river a mile off, and, in fact, performed such extraordinary feats, that the folk began to have a fear of him. at length a brewer at lynn, who required a strong lusty fellow to carry his beer to the marsh and to wisbeach, after much persuasion, and promising him a new suit of clothes and as much as he liked to eat and drink, secured tom for his business. the distance he daily traveled with the beer was upwards of twenty miles, for although there was a shorter cut through the marsh, no one durst go that way for fear of a monstrous giant, who was lord of a portion of the district, and who killed or made slaves of every one he could lay his hands upon. now, in the course of time, tom was thoroughly tired of going such a roundabout way, and without telling his plans to any one, he resolved to pass through the giant's domain, or lose his life in the attempt. this was a bold undertaking, but good living had so increased tom's strength and courage, that venturesome as he was before, his hardiness was so much increased that he would have faced a still greater danger. he accordingly drove his cart in the forbidden direction, flinging the gates wide open, as if for the purpose of making his daring more plain to be seen. at length he was espied by the giant, who was in a rage at his boldness, but consoled himself by thinking that tom and the beer would soon become his prey. "sir," said the monster, "who gave you permission to come this way? do you not know how i make all stand in fear of me? and you, like an impudent rogue, must come and fling my gates open at your pleasure! are you careless of your life? do not you care what you do? but i will make you an example for all rogues under the sun! dost thou not see how many thousand heads hang upon yonder tree--heads of those who have offended against my laws? but thy head shall hang higher than all the rest for an example!" but tom made him answer: "you shall not find me to be one of them." "no!" said the giant, in astonishment and indignation; "and what a fool you must be if you come to fight with such a one as i am, and bring never a weapon to defend yourself!" quoth tom, "i have a weapon here that will make you know you are a traitorous rogue." this speech highly incensed the giant, who immediately ran to his cave for his club, intending to dash out tom's brains at one blow. tom was now much distressed for a weapon, as by some chance he had forgot one, and he began to reflect how very little his whip would help him against a monster twelve feet in height and six feet round the waist. but while the giant was gone for his club, tom bethought himself, and turning his cart upside down, adroitly took out the axletree, which would serve him for a staff, and removing a wheel, fitted it to his arm instead of a shield--very good weapons indeed in time of trouble, and worthy of tom's wit. when the monster returned with his club, he was amazed to see the weapons with which tom had armed himself; but uttering a word of defiance, he bore down upon the poor fellow with such heavy strokes that it was as much as tom could do to defend himself with his wheel. tom, however, at length cut the giant such a blow with the axletree on the side of his head, that he nearly reeled over. "what!" said tom, "have you drunk of my strong beer already?" this inquiry did not, as we may suppose, mollify the giant, who laid on his blows so sharply and heavily that tom was obliged to defend himself. by-and-by, not making any impression on the wheel, the giant grew tired, and was obliged to ask tom if he would let him drink a little, and then he would fight again. "no," said tom, "my mother did not teach me that wit: who would be fool then?" the end may readily be imagined; tom having beaten the giant, cut off his head, and entered the cave, which he found completely filled with gold and silver. the news of this victory rapidly spread throughout the country, for the giant had been a common enemy to the people about. they made bonfires for joy, and showed their respect to tom by every means in their power. a few days afterwards tom took possession of the cave and all the giant's treasure. he pulled down the former, and built a magnificent house on the spot; but as for the land stolen by the giant, part of it he gave to the poor for their common, merely keeping enough for himself and his good old mother, jane hickathrift. tom was now a great man and a hero with all the country folk, so that when any one was in danger or difficulty, it was to tom hickathrift he must turn. it chanced that about this time many idle and rebellious persons drew themselves together in and about the isle of ely, and set themselves to defy the king and all his men. by this time, you must know, tom hickathrift had secured to himself a trusty friend and comrade, almost his equal in strength and courage, for though he was but a tinker, yet he was a great and lusty one. now the sheriff of the country came to tom, under cover of night, full of fear and trembling, and begged his aid and protection against the rebels, "else," said he, "we be all dead men!" tom, nothing loth, called his friend the tinker, and as soon as it was day, led by the sheriff, they went out armed with their clubs to the place where the rebels were gathered together. when they were got thither, tom and the tinker marched up to the leaders of the band, and asked them why they were set upon breaking the king's peace. to this they answered loudly, "our will is our law, and by that alone we will be governed!" "nay," quoth tom, "if it be so, these trusty clubs are our weapons, and by them alone you shall be chastised." these words were no sooner uttered than they madly rushed on the throng of men, bearing all before them, and laying twenty or thirty sprawling with every blow. the tinker struck off heads with such violence that they flew like balls for miles about, and when tom had slain hundreds and so broken his trusty club, he laid hold of a lusty raw-boned miller and made use of him as a weapon till he had quite cleared the field. if tom hickathrift had been a hero before, he was twice a hero now. when the king heard of it all, he sent for him to be knighted, and when he was sir thomas hickathrift nothing would serve him but that he must be married to a great lady of the country. so married he was, and a fine wedding they had of it. there was a great feast given, to which all the poor widows for miles round were invited, because of tom's mother, and rich and poor feasted together. among the poor widows who came was an old woman called stumbelup, who with much ingratitude stole from the great table a silver tankard. but she had not got safe away before she was caught and the people were so enraged at her wickedness that they nearly hanged her. however, sir tom had her rescued, and commanded that she should be drawn on a wheelbarrow through the streets and lanes of cambridge, holding a placard in her hand on which was written-- "i am the naughty stumbelup, who tried to steal the silver cup." heroes of scandinavia the story of frithiof adapted by julia goddard i in a cottage overshadowed by wide-spreading oaks, and surrounded by a garden in which bloomed the sweetest flowers of summer, lived an aged peasant named hilding. two children might be seen playing about the garden from sunrise to sunset, but they were not old hilding's children. the handsome boy was the son of the thane thorsten vikingsson; the little girl, with dove-like eyes and silken tresses, was the daughter of good king belé. together the little ones played through the long pleasant days in their foster-father's garden, or wandered through the woods, or climbed the hills that sheltered them from the northern winds. the boy would seek treasures from the birds' nests for his fair companion, not even fearing to rob the mountain eagle, so that he might bring the spoil to ingebjorg. he would also take her far out on the blue sea in his little boat, and ingebjorg never felt afraid as long as frithiof was with her. as frithiof grew older, he became a great hunter, and once he slew without weapons a fierce bear, which he brought home in triumph and laid at ingebjorg's feet. during the winter evenings, they sat by the blazing logs on the hearth, and hilding told them wonderful stories of asgard and all its glories, of odin the king of the gods, and of the beautiful frigga. but frithiof thought she could not be half so beautiful as ingebjorg. and once he said so to her, and it pleased her exceedingly. and he said, moreover, that when he was a man, ingebjorg should be his wife. this also she was glad to hear, for she loved frithiof better than any one in the world. but old hilding told them not to talk nonsense, for ingebjorg was a king's daughter, and frithiof but the son of a thane. ii in a room of his palace stood king belé. he was leaning on his sword, musing over all that was past, and thinking of the future. he was an old man, and he felt that his strength was failing him. with him was his faithful friend thorsten vikingsson. they had grown up to manhood together, they had fought in many a battle side by side. they had been companions at many a feast and revel; and now, when old age had fallen upon them, they drew closer to one another, feeling that the hand of death was raised to summon them into another world. "the end of life is near," said the king; "the shadow of death is cast upon me. no longer do i care for all that men call pleasure. the chase hath lost its charm, the helmet sits heavy upon my brow, and the mead hath lost its flavor. i would that my sons were here so that i might give them my blessing." then the servants summoned to king belé's presence his two sons, helgi and halfdan. dark was the countenance of helgi, and there was blood upon his hands, for he had just been assisting at the midday sacrifice. but the face of halfdan was bright as the early morning, and he was as light and joyous as his brother was dark and gloomy. frithiof also came, for the thane thorsten vikingsson desired to see him, that he too might bless his son when king belé blessed the royal princes. and the two old friends spoke words of wisdom to their children, and prayed that the gods might be with them in peace and war, in joy and sorrow, and grant them a long life and a glorious death. and when their counsels and prayers were ended, king belé said, "and now, o sons, i bid you remember, in that day when death shall claim me and my faithful friend, that ye lay our bones side by side near the shore of the great ocean." iii in due time, king belé died, and helgi and halfdan shared his kingdom between them. thorsten vikingsson died also, and frithiof became lord of his ancestral home of framnäs. rich treasures did that home contain, three of them of magic power. the first was the sword of angurvadel. blood-red it shone in time of war, and wo to him who contended with its owner on the battle-field. next was an arm-ring of pure gold, made by the god völund, and given by him to one of thorsten vikingsson's forefathers. once it was stolen and carried to england by the viking soté, but thorsten and his friend king belé pursued the robber. over the sea they sailed after the viking, and landed at a lonely place where the rocks reared up their sharp points and made the coast dangerous. there were deep caverns which the waters filled when the tide was up, so lone and dark that men were almost afraid to go into them. but thorsten vikingsson and the king his master were not daunted. hither had they come after the pirate, and here it was that he had last been heard of; and they searched along the shore and in the caves, and peered into every hole and cranny, until their eyes grew strained and heavy, but no viking soté was to be seen. they had almost given up hope of finding him, when, looking through a chink that had hitherto escaped their notice, a fearful sight was seen by the valiant thane. within a mighty vault, forming a still, cold tomb, there lay a vessel all complete, with masts and spars and anchor; and on the deck there sat a grim skeleton clad in a robe of flame, and on his skinless arm glittered the golden arm-ring wrought by völund. the figure held in his left hand a blood-stained sword, from which he was trying to scour away the stains. "it is my arm-ring," said thorsten vikingsson; "it is the spirit of the viking soté." and forthwith he forced his way into the tomb, and, after a deadly conflict with the specter, regained his treasure. and the two friends sailed home in triumph. the third great thing that frithiof inherited was the dragon-ship "ellide," which his forefathers had won in the following manner: one of them, a rough, rude viking, with a tender heart, was out at sea, and on a wreck that was fast sinking saw an old man with green locks sitting disconsolately. the good-natured viking picked him up, took him home, gave him of the best of food and of sparkling mead, and would have lodged him in his house; but the green-haired man said he could not tarry, for he had many miles to sail that night. "but when the sun comes up in the east," added the stranger, "look for a thank-gift on the wild seashore." and behold, as morning dawned, the viking saw a goodly vessel making gallant headway. as she drew near the land with streamer flying and broad sails flapping in the wind, the viking saw that there was no soul on board of her; and yet, without steersman to guide her, the vessel avoided the shoals and held her way straight to the spot where he was standing. her prow was a dragon's head, a dragon's tail formed her stern, and dragon's wings bore her along swifter than an eagle before the storm. the green-haired stranger was a sea-god, and the dragon-ship "ellide" was his thank-gift. thus frithiof, though only the son of a thane, had treasures that might have been coveted by kings and princes. he sat in his father's halls, surrounded by his companions; upon his right was seated his bosom friend bjorn, and twelve bold champions clad in steel were ranged around the board. and they drank in silence to the memory of thorsten vikingsson. but suddenly the harps struck up, and the skalds poured forth their songs in honor of the dead thane. and frithiof's eyes filled with tears as he listened to his father's praises. iv in spite of frithiof's wealth, helgi and halfdan looked with disdain upon the son of their father's friend; and when frithiof asked to have ingebjorg for his wife, helgi scornfully answered, "my sister shall not wed the son of a thane. if you like to be our serf, we will make room for you among our servants." then went frithiof away in wrath. there was another suitor for the hand of ingebjorg, good old king ring, who, having lost his wife, thought that the lily of the north would make a tender mother for his little son. and he sent to helgi and halfdan to ask for ingebjorg in marriage, but the brothers treated him as they had treated frithiof; and the old king was roused, and he swore he would revenge himself. helgi and halfdan were afraid when they found that ring was really making ready for war. they began to get their army into order, and placed ingebjorg for safety in the temple of baldur, and in their distress they even sent to frithiof to ask him to come and help them. they chose wisely in the messenger they sent to plead for them, for it was none other than old hilding, who had been so kind to frithiof in his childhood. frithiof was playing at chess with bjorn when hilding arrived. he pretended not to hear the message, and went on with his game. "shall the pawn save the king?" he asked of bjorn. and after a time he added: "there is no other way to save the queen." which showed that he had been all the time occupied with hilding's errand. therefore he returned with the old peasant, and contrived to see ingebjorg in the temple of baldur, and found that she still loved him as much as he loved her, and did not wish to marry any one else. and again he asked helgi and halfdan if they were willing that ingebjorg should be his wife. and again the brothers said, nay, with scorn, and told him that he had profaned the temple of baldur by speaking to ingebjorg within its walls. "for such a misdeed," said helgi, "death or banishment is the doom, and thou art in our power. nevertheless, we are willing, as we wish to make thee useful to us, to forego the penalty. thou shalt therefore sail forth to the distant orkney isles, and compel jarl angantyr to pay the tribute that he owes us." frithiof would have refused to go, but ingebjorg persuaded him to undertake the mission; for she was afraid of her brothers, and knew that frithiof would be safer on the wild seas than in their hands. at last frithiof consented, and he took leave of ingebjorg, and placed the golden bracelet that völund had made upon her arm, praying her to keep it for his sake. and then he sailed away over the heaving waters, and ingebjorg mourned that her lover was gone. v over the sea. it was calm enough when frithiof started; the storm-winds were asleep, and the waters heaved gently as though they would fain help speed the dragon-ship peacefully on her way. but king helgi standing on a rock repented that he had suffered the noble frithiof to escape his malice; and as he watched the good ship "ellide" riding over the sea, he prayed loudly to the ocean-fiends that they would trouble the waters and raise a fierce tempest to swallow up frithiof and the dragon-ship. all at once, the sparkling sea turned leaden gray, and the billows began to roll, the skies grew dark, and the howl of the driving wind was answered by a sullen roar from the depths beneath. suddenly, a blinding flash of lightning played around the vessel, and as it vanished the pealing thunder burst from the clouds. the raging sea foamed, and seethed, and tossed the vessel like a feather upon its angry waves, and deeper sounded the thunder, and more fiercely flashed the lightning round the masts. wilder, wilder, wilder grew the storm. alas, for frithiof! "ho! take the tiller in hand," shouted frithiof to bjorn. "and i will mount to the topmost mast and look out for danger'" and when he looked out, he saw the storm-fiends riding on a whale. one was in form like to a great white bear, the other like unto a terrible eagle. "now help me, o gift of the sea-god! help me, my gallant 'ellide'!" cried frithiof. and the dragon-ship heard her master's voice, and with her keel she smote the whale; so he died, and sank to the bottom of the sea, leaving the storm-fiends tossing upon the waves. "ho, spears and lances, help me in my need!" shouted frithiof, as he took aim at the monsters. and he transfixed the shrieking storm-fiends, and left them entangled in the huge coils of seaweed which the storm had uprooted. "ho, ho!" laughed rugged bjorn, "they are trapped in their own nets." and so they were; and they were so much taken up with trying to free themselves from the seaweed and from frithiof's long darts, that they were unable to give any heed to the storm, which therefore went down, and frithiof and his crew sailed on, and reached the orkney isles in safety. "here comes frithiof," said the viking atlé. "i know him by his dragon-ship." and forthwith the viking rose and went forth; he had heard of the strength of frithiof, and wished to match himself against him. he did not wait to see whether frithiof came in enmity or friendship. fighting was the first thing he thought of, and what he most cared for. however, the viking had the worst of it in the battle. "there is witchcraft in thy sword," said he to frithiof. so frithiof threw his sword aside, and they wrestled together, unarmed, until atlé was brought to the ground. then spake frithiof: "and if i had my sword thou wouldst not long be a living man." "fetch it, then," replied atlé. "i swear by the gods that i will not move until thou dost return." so frithiof fetched his sword, but when he saw the conquered viking still upon the ground, he could not bring himself to slay so honorable a man. "thou art too true and brave to die," said frithiof. "rise, let us be friends." and the two combatants went hand in hand to the banquet hall of angantyr, jarl (earl) of the orkney islands. a splendid hall it was, and a rare company of heroes was there; and all listened eagerly as frithiof told his story, and wherefore he had come. "i never paid tribute to king belé, though he was an old friend of mine," said the jarl, as frithiof ended his speech, "nor will i to his sons. if they want aught of me, let them come and take it." "it was by no choice of my own that i came upon such an errand," returned frithiof, "and i shall be well content to carry back your answer." "take also this purse of gold in token of friendship," continued the jarl, "and remain with us, for i knew thy father." thus frithiof and the jarl became good friends, and frithiof consented to stay for a while in the orkney islands; but after a time he ordered out his good ship "ellide," and set sail for his native land. vi but fearful things had come to pass since he had left his home! framnäas, the dwelling of his fathers, was a heap of ruins, and the land was waste and desolate. and as he stood upon the well-loved spot, striving to find some traces of the past, his faithful hound bounded forth to greet him, and licked his master's hand. and then his favorite steed drew near, and thrust his nose into frithiof's hand, hoping to find therein a piece of bread, as in the days of old. his favorite falcon perched upon his shoulder, and this was frithiof's welcome to the home of his ancestors. there had been a fierce battle, for king ring with his army had come against helgi and halfdan, and the country had been laid waste, and many warriors slain. and when all chance of withstanding him was at an end, the brothers, rather than lose their kingdom, had consented that ingebjorg should be the wife of ring. ingebjorg was married! frithiof's heart was full of deep sorrow, and he turned his steps towards the temple of baldur, hoping that at the altar of the god he might meet with consolation. in the temple he found king helgi, and the sorrow that was weighing down frithiof's heart gave place to hatred and revenge. caring nothing for the sacred place, he rushed madly forward. "here, take thy tribute," said he, and he threw the purse that jarl angantyr had given him with such force against the face of the king that helgi fell down senseless on the steps of the altar. next, seeing his arm-ring on the arm of the statue, for helgi had taken it from ingebjorg and placed it there, he tried to tear it off, and, lo! the image tottered and fell upon the fire that was burning with sweet perfumes before it. scarcely had it touched the fire when it was ablaze, and the flames spreading rapidly on every side, the whole temple was soon a smoldering heap of ruins. then frithiof sought his ship. he vowed that he would lead a viking's life, and leave forever a land where he had suffered so much sorrow. and he put out to sea. but no sooner were his sails spread than he saw ten vessels in chase of him, and on the deck of one stood helgi, who had been rescued from the burning temple, and had come in chase of him. yet frithiof was rescued from the danger as if by miracle; for one by one the ships sank down as though some water-giant had stretched out his strong arm, and dragged them below, and helgi only saved himself by swimming ashore. loud laughed bjorn. "i bored holes in the ships last night," said he; "it is a rare ending to helgi's fleet." "and now," said frithiof, "i will forever lead a viking's life. i care not for aught upon the land. the sea shall be my home. and i will seek climes far away from here." so he steered the good ship "ellide" southward, and among the isles of greece strove to forget the memories of bygone days. vii in and out of the sunny islands that lay like studs of emerald on a silver shield sailed frithiof, and on the deck of the dragon-ship he rested through the summer nights, looking up at the moon, and wondering what she could tell him of the northern land. sometimes he dreamed of his home as it was before the wartime. sometimes he dreamed of the days when he and ingebjorg roamed through the fields and woods together, or listened to old hilding's stories by the blazing hearth; and then he would wake up with a start and stroke his faithful hound, who was ever near him, saying, "thou alone knowest no change; to thee all is alike, so long as thy master is with thee." one night, however, as frithiof was musing on the deck of his vessel, gazing into the cloudless sky, a vision of the past rose up before him: old familiar faces crowded round him, and in their midst he marked one, best beloved of all, pale, sad, with sorrowful eyes; and her lips moved, and he seemed to hear her say, "i am very sad without thee, frithiof." then a great longing came upon frithiof to see ingebjorg once more. he would go northward, even to the country of king ring; he must see ingebjorg. what did he care for danger? he must go. to the cold, dark north. yet he dared not go openly, for king ring looked upon him as an enemy, and would seize him at once, and if he did not kill him would shut him up in prison, so that either way he would not see the beautiful queen. frithiof. therefore disguised himself as an old man, and wrapped in bearskins, presented himself at the palace. the old king sat upon his throne, and at his side was ingebjorg the fair, looking like spring by the side of fading autumn. as the strangely dressed figure passed along, the courtiers jeered, and frithiof, thrown off his guard, angrily seized one of them, and twirled him round with but little effort. "ho!" said the king, "thou art a strong old man, o stranger! whence art thou?" "i was reared in anguish and want," returned frithiof; "sorrow has filled a bitter cup for me, and i have almost drunk it to the dregs. once i rode upon a dragon, but now it lies dead upon the seashore, and i am left in my old age to burn salt upon the strand." "thou art not old," answered the wise king; "thy voice is clear, and thy grasp is strong. throw off thy rude disguise, that we may know our guest." then frithiof threw aside his bearskin, and appeared clad in a mantle of blue embroidered velvet, and his hair fell like a golden wave upon his shoulder. ring did not know him, but ingebjorg did; and when she handed the goblet for him to drink, her color went and came "like to the northern light on a field of snow." and frithiof stayed at the court, until the year came round again, and spring once more put forth its early blossoms. one day a gay hunting train went forth, but old king ring, not being strong, as in former years, lay down to rest upon the mossy turf beneath some arching pines, while the hunters rode on. then frithiof drew near, and in his heart wild thoughts arose. one blow of his sword, and ingebjorg was free to be his wife. but as he looked upon the sleeping king, there came a whisper from a better voice, "it is cowardly to strike a sleeping foe." and frithiof shuddered, for he was too brave a man to commit murder. "sleep on, old man," he muttered gently to himself. but ring's sleep was over. he started up. "o frithiof why hast thou come hither to steal an old man's bride?" "i came not hither for so dark a purpose," answered frithiof; "i came but to look on the face of my loved ingebjorg once more." "i know it," replied the king; "i have tried thee, i have proved thee, and true as tried steel hast thou passed through the furnace. stay with us yet a little longer, the old man soon will be gathered to his fathers, then shall his kingdom and his wife be thine." but frithiof replied that he had already remained too long, and that on the morrow he must depart. yet he went not; for death had visited the palace, and old king ring was stretched upon his bier, while the bards around sang of his wisdom. then arose a cry among the people, "we must choose a king!" and frithiof raised aloft upon his shield the little son of ring. "here is your king," he said, "the son of wise old ring." the blue-eyed child laughed and clapped his hands as he beheld the glittering helmets and glancing spears of the warriors. then tired of his high place, he sprang down into the midst of them. loud uprose the shout, "the child shall be our king, and the jarl frithiof regent. hail to the young king of the northmen!" viii but frithiof in the hour of his good fortune did not forget that he had offended the gods. he must make atonement to baldur for having caused the ruin of his temple. he must turn his steps once more homeward. home! home! and on his father's grave he sank down with a softened heart, and grieved over the passion and revenge that had swayed his deeds. and as he mourned, the voices of unseen spirits answered him, and whispered that he was forgiven. and to his wondering eyes a vision was vouchsafed, and the temple of baldur appeared before him, rebuilt in more than its ancient splendor, and deep peace sank into the soul of frithiof. "rise up, rise up, frithiof, and journey onward." the words came clear as a command to frithiof, and he obeyed them. he rose up, and journeyed to the place where he had left the temple a heap of blackened ruins. and, lo! the vision that had appeared to him was accomplished, for there stood the beautiful building, stately and fair to look upon. so beautiful, that, as he gazed, his thoughts were of valhalla. he entered, and the white-robed, silver-bearded priest welcomed the long-absent viking, and told him that helgi was dead, and halfdan reigned alone. "and know, o frithiof," said the aged man, "that baldur is better pleased when the heart grows soft and injuries are forgiven, than with the most costly sacrifices. lay aside forever all thoughts of hatred and revenge, and stretch out to halfdan the hand of friendship." joy had softened all frithiofs feelings of anger, and, advancing to halfdan, who was standing near the altar, he spoke out manfully. "halfdan," he said, "let us forget the years that have gone by. let all past evil and injury be buried in the grave. henceforth let us be as brothers, and once more i ask thee, give me ingebjorg to be my wife." and halfdan made answer, "thou shalt be my brother." and as he spoke, an inner door flew open, and a sweet chorus of youthful voices was heard. a band of maidens issued forth, and at their head walked ingebjorg, fairer than ever. then halfdan, leading her to frithiof, placed her hand within that of the viking. "behold thy wife," said halfdan. "well hast thou won her. may the gods attend upon your bridal." so ingebjorg became the wife of frithiof at last. thus steps of sorrow had but led them to a height of happiness that poets love to sing. paths thick with thorns had blossomed into roses, and wreaths of everlasting flowers had crowned the winter snows. and midst the lights and shadows of the old northland, their lives flowed on like to two united streams that roll through quiet pastures to the ocean of eternity. havelok adapted by george w. cox and e.h. jones there was once a king of england named athelwold. earl, baron, thane, knight, and bondsman, all loved him; for he set on high the wise and the just man, and put down the spoiler and the robber. at that time a man might carry gold about with him, as much as fifty pounds, and not fear loss. traders and merchants bought and sold at their ease without danger of plunder. but it was bad for the evil person and for such as wrought shame, for they had to lurk and hide away from the king's wrath; yet was it unavailing, for he searched out the evil-doer and punished him, wherever he might be. the fatherless and the widow found a sure friend in the king; he turned not away from the complaint of the helpless, but avenged them against the oppressor, were he never so strong. kind was he to the poor, neither at any time thought he the fine bread upon his own table too good to give to the hungry. but a death-sickness fell on king athelwold, and when he knew that his end was near he was greatly troubled, for he had one little daughter of tender age, named goldborough, and he grieved to leave her. "o my little daughter, heir to all the land, yet so young thou canst not walk upon it; so helpless that thou canst not tell thy wants and yet hast need to give commandment like a queen! for myself i would not care, being old and not afraid to die. but i had hoped to live till thou shouldst be of age to wield the kingdom; to see thee ride on horseback through the land, and round about a thousand knights to do thy bidding. alas, my little child, what will become of thee when i am gone?" then king athelwold summoned his earls and barons, from roxborough to dover, to come and take counsel with him as he lay a-dying on his bed at winchester. and when they all wept sore at seeing the king so near his end, he said, "weep not, good friends, for since i am brought to death's door your tears can in nowise deliver me; but rather give me your counsel. my little daughter that after me shall be your queen; tell me in whose charge i may safely leave both her and england till she be grown of age to rule?" and with one accord they answered him, "in the charge of earl godrich of cornwall, for he is a right wise and a just man, and held in fear of all the land. let him be ruler till our queen be grown." then the king sent for a fair linen cloth, and thereon having laid the mass-book and the chalice and the paton, he made earl godrich swear upon the holy bread and wine to be a true and faithful guardian of his child, without blame or reproach, tenderly to entreat her, and justly to govern the realm till she should be twenty winters old; then to seek out the best, the bravest, and the strongest man as husband for her and deliver up the kingdom to her hand. and when earl godrich had so sworn, the king shrived him clean of all his sins. then having received his saviour he folded his hands, saying, "domine, in manus tuas;" and so he died. there was sorrow and mourning among all the people for the death of good king athelwold. many the mass that was sung for him and the psalter that was said for his soul's rest. the bells tolled and the priests sang, and the people wept; and they gave him a kingly burial. then earl godrich began to govern the kingdom; and all the nobles and all the churls, both free and thrall, came and did allegiance to him. he set in all the castles strong knights in whom he could trust, and appointed justices and sheriffs and peace-sergeants in all the shires. so he ruled the country with a firm hand, and not a single wight dare disobey his word, for all england feared him. thus, as the years went on, the earl waxed wonderly strong and very rich. goldborough, the king's daughter, throve and grew up the fairest woman in all the land, and she was wise in all manner of wisdom that is good and to be desired. but when the time drew on that earl godrich should give up the kingdom to her, he began to think within himself--"shall i, that have ruled so long, give up the kingdom to a girl, and let her be queen and lady over me? and to what end? all these strong earls and barons, governed by a weaker hand than mine, would throw off the yolk and split up england into little baronies, evermore fighting betwixt themselves for mastery. there would cease to be a kingdom, and so there would cease to be a queen. she cannot rule it, and she shall not have it. besides, i have a son. him will i teach to rule and make him king." so the earl let his oath go for nothing, and went to winchester where the maiden was, and fetched her away and carried her off to dover to a castle that is by the seashore. therein he shut her up and dressed her in poor clothes, and fed her on scanty fare; neither would he let any of her friends come near her. now there was in denmark a certain king called birkabeyn, who had three children, two daughters and a son. and birkabeyn fell sick, and knowing that death had stricken him, he called for godard, whom he thought his truest friend, and said, "godard, here i commend my children to thee. care for them, i pray thee, and bring them up as befits the children of a king. when the boy is grown and can bear a helm upon his head and wield a spear, i charge thee to make him king of denmark. till then hold my estate and royalty in charge for him." and godard swore to guard the children zealously, and to give up the kingdom to the boy. then birkabeyn died and was buried. but no sooner was the king laid in his grave than godard despised his oath; for he took the children, havelok and his two little sisters, swanborough and helfled, and shut them up in a castle with barely clothes to cover them. and havelok, the eldest, was scarce three years old. one day godard came to see the children, and found them all crying of hunger and cold; and he said angrily, "how now! what is all this crying about?" the boy havelok answered him, "we are very hungry, for we get scarce anything to eat. is there no more corn, that men cannot make bread and give us? we are very hungry." but his little sisters only sat shivering with the cold, and sobbing, for they were too young to be able to speak. the cruel godard cared not. he went to where the little girls sat, and drew his knife, and took them one after another and cut their throats. havelok, seeing this sorry sight, was terribly afraid, and fell down on his knees begging godard to spare his life. so earnestly he pleaded that godard was fain to listen: and listening he looked upon the knife, red with the children's blood; and when he saw the still, dead faces of the little ones he had slain, and looked upon their brother's tearful face praying for life, his cruel courage failed him quite. he laid down the knife. he would that havelok were dead, but feared to slay him for the silence that would come. so the boy pleaded on; and godard stared at him as though his wits were gone; then turned upon his heel and came out from the castle. "yet," he thought, "if i should let him go, one day he may wreak me mischief and perchance seize the crown. but if he dies, my children will be lords of denmark after me." then godard sent for a fisherman whose name was grim, and he said, "grim, you know you are my bondsman. do now my bidding, and to-morrow i shall make thee free and give thee gold and land. take this child with thee to-night when thou goest a fishing, and at moonrise cast him in the sea, with a good anchor fast about his neck to keep him down. to-day i am thy master and the sin is mine. to-morrow thou art free." then grim took up the child and bound him fast, and having thrust a gag into his mouth so that he could not speak, he put him in a bag and took him on his back and carried him home. when grim got home his wife took the bag from off his shoulders and cast it upon the ground within doors; and grim told her of his errand. now as it drew to midnight he said, "rise up, wife, and blow up the fire to light a candle, and get me my clothes, for i must be stirring." but when the woman came into the room where havelok lay, she saw a bright light round the boy's head, like a sunbeam, and she called to her husband to come and see. and when he came they both marveled at the light and what it might mean, for it was very bright and shining. then they unbound havelok and took away the gag, and turning down his shirt they found a king-mark fair and plain upon his right shoulder. "god help us, wife," said grim, "but this is surely the heir of denmark, son of birkabeyn our king! ay, and he shall be king in spite of godard." then grim fell down at the boy's feet and said, "forgive me, my king, that i knew thee not. we are thy subjects and henceforth will feed and clothe thee till thou art grown a man and can bear shield and spear. then deal thou kindly by me and mine, as i shall deal with thee. but fear not godard. he shall never know, and i shall be a bondsman still, for i will never be free till thou, my king, shall set me free." then was havelok very glad, and he sat up and begged for bread. and they hastened and fetched bread and cheese and butter and milk; and for very hunger the boy ate up the whole loaf, for he was well-nigh famished. and after he had eaten, grim made a fair bed and undressed havelok and laid him down to rest, saying, "sleep, my son; sleep fast and sound and have no care, for nought shall harm thee." on the morrow grim went to godard, and telling him he had drowned the boy, asked for his reward. but godard bade him go home and remain a bondsman, and be thankful that he was not hanged for so wicked a deed. after a while grim, beginning to fear that both himself and havelok might be slain, sold all his goods, his corn, and cattle, and fowls, and made ready his little ship, tarring and pitching it till not a seam nor a crack could be found, and setting a good mast and sail therein. then with his wife, his three sons, his two daughters, and havelok, he entered into the ship and sailed away from denmark; and a strong north wind arose and drove the vessel to england, and carried it up the humber so far as lindesay, where it grounded on the sands. grim got out of the boat with his wife and children and havelok, and then drew it ashore. on the shore he built a house of earth and dwelt therein, and from that time the place was called grimsby, after grim. grim did not want for food, for he was a good fisherman both with net and hook, and he would go out in his boat and catch all manner of fish--sturgeons, turbot, salmon, cod, herrings, mackerel, flounders, and lampreys, and he never came home empty-handed. he had four baskets made for himself and his sons, and in these they used to carry the fish to lincoln, to sell them, coming home laden with meat and meal, and hemp and rope to make new nets and lines. thus they lived for twelve years. but havelok saw that grim worked very hard, and being now grown a strong lad, he bethought him "i eat more than grim and all his five children together, and yet do nothing to earn the bread. i will no longer be idle, for it is a shame for a man not to work." so he got grim to let him have a basket like the rest, and next day took it out heaped with fish, and sold them well, bringing home silver money for them. after that he never stopped at home idle. but soon there arose a great dearth, and corn grew so dear that they could not take fish enough to buy bread for all. then havelok, since he needed so much to eat, determined that he would no longer be a burden to the fisherman. so grim made him a coat of a piece of an old sail, and havelok set off to lincoln barefoot to seek for work. it so befell that earl godrich's cook, bertram, wanted a scullion, and took havelok into his service. there was plenty to eat and plenty to do. havelok drew water and chopped wood, and brought twigs to make fires, and carried heavy tubs and dishes, but was always merry and blythe. little children loved to play with him; and grown knights and nobles would stop to talk and laugh with him, although he wore nothing but rags of old sail-cloth which scarcely covered his great limbs, and all admired how fair and strong a man god had made him. the cook liked havelok so much that he bought him new clothes, with shoes and hose; and when havelok put them on, no man in the kingdom seemed his peer for strength and beauty. he was the tallest man in lincoln, and the strongest in england. earl godrich assembled a parliament in lincoln, and afterward held games. strong men and youths came to try for mastery at the game of putting the stone. it was a mighty stone, the weight of an heifer. he was a stalwart man who could lift it to his knee, and few could stir it from the ground. so they strove together, and he who put the stone an inch farther than the rest was to be made champion. but havelok, though he had never seen the like before, took up the heavy stone, and put it twelve feet beyond the rest, and after that none would contend with him. now this matter being greatly talked about, it came to the ears of earl godrich, who bethought him--"did not athelwold bid me marry his daughter to the strongest man alive? in truth, i will marry her to this cook's scullion. that will abase her pride; and when she is wedded to a bondsman she will be powerless to injure me. that will be better than shutting her up; better than killing her." so he sent and brought goldborough to lincoln, and set the bells ringing, and pretended great joy, for he said, "goldborough, i am going to marry thee to the fairest and stalwartest man living." but goldborough answered she would never wed any one but a king. "ay, ay, my girl; and so thou wouldst be queen and lady over me? but thy father made me swear to give thee to the strongest man in england, and that is havelok, the cook's scullion; so willing or not willing to-morrow thou shalt wed." then the earl sent for havelok and said, "master, will you marry?" "not i," said havelok; "for i cannot feed nor clothe a wife. i have no house, no cloth, no victuals. the very clothes i wear do not belong to me, but to bertram the cook, as i do." "so much the better," said the earl; "but thou shalt either wed her that i shall bring thee, or else hang from a tree. so choose." then havelok said he would sooner wed. earl godrich went back to goldborough and threatened her with burning at the stake unless she yielded to his bidding. so, thinking it god's will, the maid consented. and on the morrow they were wed by the archbishop of york, who had come down to the parliament, and the earl told money out upon the mass-book for her dower. now after he was wed, havelok knew not what to do, for he saw how greatly earl godrich hated him. he thought he would go and see grim. when he got to grimsby he found that grim was dead, but his children welcomed havelok and begged him bring his wife thither, since they had gold and silver and cattle. and when goldborough came, they made a feast, sparing neither flesh nor fowl, wine nor ale. and grim's sons and daughters served havelok and goldborough. sorrowfully goldborough lay down at night, for her heart was heavy at thinking she had wedded a bondsman. but as she fretted she saw a light, very bright like a blaze of fire, which came out of havelok's mouth. and she thought, "of a truth but he must be nobly born." then she looked on his shoulder, and saw the king mark, like a fair cross of red gold, and at the same time she heard an angel say-- "goldborough, leave sorrowing, for havelok is a king's son, and shall be king of england and of denmark, and thou queen." then was goldborough glad, and kissed havelok, who, straightway waking, said, "i have had a strange dream. i dreamed i was on a high hill, whence i could see all denmark; and i thought as i looked that it was all mine. then i was taken up and carried over the salt sea to england, and methought i took all the country and shut it within my hand." and goldborough said, "what a good dream is this! rejoice, for it means that thou shalt be king of england and of denmark. take now my counsel and get grim's sons to go with thee to denmark." in the morning havelok went to the church and prayed to god to speed him in his undertaking. then he came home and found grim's three sons just going off fishing. their names were robert the red, william wendut, and hugh raven. he told them who he was, how godard had slain his sisters, and delivered him over to grim to be drowned, and how grim had fled with him to england. then havelok asked them to go with him to denmark, promising to make them rich men. to this they gladly agreed, and having got ready their ship and victualed it, they set sail with havelok and his wife for denmark. the place of their landing was hard by the castle of a danish earl named ubbe, who had been a faithful friend to king birkabeyn. havelok went to earl ubbe, with a gold ring for a present, asking leave to buy and sell goods from town to town in that part of the country. ubbe, beholding the tall, broad-shouldered, thick-chested man, so strong and cleanly made, thought him more fit for a knight than for a peddler. he bade havelok bring his wife and come and eat with him at his table. so havelok went to fetch goldborough, and robert the red and william wendut led her between them till they came to the castle, where ubbe, with a great company of knights, welcomed them gladly. havelok stood a head taller than any of the knights, and when they sat at table ubbe's wife ate with him, and goldborough with ubbe. it was a great feast, and after the feast ubbe sent havelok and his friends to bernard brown, bidding him take care of them till next day. so bernard received the guests and gave them a fine supper. now in the night there came sixty-one thieves to bernard's house. each had a drawn sword and a long knife, and they called to bernard to undo the door. he started up and armed himself, and told them to go away. but the thieves defied him, and with a great boulder broke down the door. then havelok, hearing the din, rose up, and seizing the bar of the door stood on the threshold and threw the door wide open, saying, "come in, i am ready for you!" first came three against him with their swords, but havelok slew these with the door bar at a single blow; the fourth man's crown he broke; he smote the fifth upon the shoulders, the sixth athwart the neck, and the seventh on the breast; so they fell dead. then the rest drew back and began to fling their swords like darts at havelok, till they had wounded him in twenty places. in spite of that, in a little while he had killed a score of the thieves. then hugh raven, waking up, called robert and william wendut. one seized a staff, each of the others a piece of timber as big as his thigh, and bernard his axe, and all three ran out to help havelok. so well did havelok and his fellows fight, breaking ribs and arms and shanks, and cracking crowns, that not a thief of all the sixty-one was left alive. next morning, when ubbe rode past and saw the sixty-one dead bodies, and heard what havelok had done, he sent and brought both him and goldborough to his own castle, and fetched a leech to tend his wounds, and would not hear of his going away; for, said he, "this man is better than a thousand knights." now that same night, after he had gone to bed, ubbe awoke about midnight and saw a great light shining from the chamber where havelok and goldborough lay. he went softly to the door and peeped in to see what it meant. they were lying fast asleep, and the light was streaming from havelok's mouth. ubbe went and called his knights, and they also came in and saw this marvel. it was brighter than a hundred burning tapers; bright enough to count money by. havelok lay on his left side with his back towards them, uncovered to the waist; and they saw the king-mark on his right shoulder sparkle like shining gold and carbuncle. then knew they that it was king birkabeyn's son, and seeing how like he was to his father, they wept for joy. thereupon havelok awoke, and all fell down and did him homage, saying he should be their king. on the morrow ubbe sent far and wide and gathered together earl and baron, dreng [servant] and thane, clerk, knight and burgess, and told them all the treason of godard, and how havelok had been nurtured and brought up by grim in england. then he showed them their king, and the people shouted for joy at having so fair and strong a man to rule them. and first ubbe sware fealty to havelok, and after him the others both great and small. and the sheriffs and constables and all that held castles in town or burg came out and promised to be faithful to him. then ubbe drew his sword and dubbed havelok a knight, and set a crown upon his head and made him king. and at the crowning they held merry sports--jousting with sharp spears, tilting at the shield, wrestling, and putting the shot. there were harpers and pipers and gleemen with their tabors; and for forty days a feast was held with rich meats in plenty and the wine flowed like water. and first the king made robert and william wendut and hugh raven barons, and gave them land and fee. then when the feast was done, he set out with a thousand knights and five thousand sergeants to seek for godard. godard was a-hunting with a great company of men, and robert riding on a good steed found him and bade him to come to the king. godard smote him and set on his knights to fight with robert and the king's men. they fought till ten of godard's men were slain; the rest began to flee. "turn again, o knights!" cried godard; "i have fed you and shall feed you yet. forsake me not in such a plight." so they turned about and fought again. but the king's men slew every one of them, and took godard and bound him and brought him to havelok. then king havelok summoned all his nobles to sit in judgment and say what should be done to such a traitor. and they said, "let him be dragged to the gallows at the mare's tail, and hanged by the heels in fetters, with this writing over him: 'this is he that drove the king out of the land, and took the life of the king's sisters.'" so godard suffered his doom, and none pitied him. then havelok gave his scepter into earl ubbe's hand to rule denmark on his behalf, and after that took ship and came to grimsby, where he built a priory for black monks to pray evermore for the peace of grim's soul. but when earl godrich understood that havelok and his wife were come to england, he gathered together a great army at lincoln on the th of march, and came to grimsby to fight with havelok and his knights. it was a great battle, wherein more than a thousand knights were slain. the field was covered with pools of blood. hugh raven and his brothers, robert and william, did valiantly and slew many earls; but terrible was earl godrich to the danes, for his sword was swift and deadly. havelok came to him and reminding him of the oath he sware to athelwold that goldborough should be queen, bade him yield the land. but godrich defied him, and running forward with his heavy sword cut havelok's shield in two. then havelok smote him to the earth with a blow upon the helm; but godrich arose and wounded him upon the shoulder, and havelok, smarting with the cut, ran upon his enemy and hewed off his right hand. then he took earl godrich and bound him and sent him to the queen. and when the english knew that goldborough was the heir of athelwold, they laid by their swords and came and asked pardon of the queen. and with one accord they took earl godrich and bound him to a stake and burned him to ashes, for the great outrage he had done. then all the english nobles came and sware fealty to havelok and crowned him king in london. of grim's two daughters, havelok wedded gunild, the elder, to earl reyner of chester; and levive, the younger, fair as a new rose blossom opening to the sun, he married to bertram, the cook, whom he made earl of cornwall in the room of godrich. sixty years reigned havelok and goldborough in england, and they had fifteen children, who all became kings and queens. all the world spake of the great love that was between them. apart, neither knew joy or happiness. they never grew weary of each other, for their love was ever new; and not a word of anger passed between them all their lives. the vikings adapted by mary macgregor i characters of the vikings in norway, sweden, and denmark, in all the villages and towns around the shores of the baltic, the viking race was born. it has been said that the name "vikings" was first given to those northmen who dwelt in a part of denmark called viken. however that may be, it was the name given to all the northmen who took to a wild, sea-roving life, because they would often seek shelter with their boats in one or another of the numerous bays which abounded along their coasts. thus the vikings were not by any means all kings, as you might think from their name; yet among them were many chiefs of royal descent. these, although they had neither subjects nor kingdoms over which to rule, no sooner stepped on board a viking's boat to take command of the crew, than they were given title of king. the northmen did not, however, spend all their lives in harrying and burning other countries. when the seas were quiet in the long, summer days, they would go off, as i have told you, on their wild expeditions. but when summer was over, and the seas began to grow rough and stormy, the viking bands would go home with their booty and stay there, to build their houses, reap their fields, and, when spring had come again, to sow their grain in the hope of a plenteous harvest. there was thus much that the viking lad had to learn beyond the art of wielding the battle-axe, poising the spear, and shooting an arrow straight to its mark. even a free-born yeoman's son had to work, work as hard as had the slaves or thralls who were under him. the old history books, or sagas, as the norseman called them, have, among other songs, this one about the duties of a well-born lad: "he now learnt to tame oxen and till the ground, to timber houses and build barns, to make carts and form plows." indeed, it would have surprised you to see the fierce warriors and mighty chiefs themselves laying aside their weapons and working in the fields side by side with their thralls, sowing, reaping, threshing. yet this they did. even kings were often to be seen in the fields during the busy harvest season. they would help their men to cut the golden grain, and with their own royal hands help to fill the barn when the field was reaped. to king and yeomen alike, work, well done, was an honorable deed. long before the sagas were written down, the stories of the heroes were sung in halls and on battle-fields by the poets of the nation. these poets were named skalds, and their rank among the northmen was high. sometimes the sagas were sung in prose, at other times in verse. sometimes they were tales which had been handed down from father to son for so many years that it was hard to tell how much of them was history, how much fable. at other times the sagas were true accounts of the deeds of the norse kings. for the skalds were ofttimes to be seen on the battle-fields or battleships of the vikings, and then their songs were of the brave deeds which they had themselves seen done, of the victories and defeats at which they themselves had been present. the battles which the vikings fought were fought on the sea more frequently than on the land. their warships were called long-ships and were half-decked the rowers sat in the center of the boat, which was low, so that their oars could reach the water. sails were used, either red or painted in different stripes, red, blue, yellow, green. these square, brightly colored sails gave the boats a gay appearance which was increased by the round shields which were hung outside the gunwale and which were also painted red, black, or white. at the prow there was usually a beautifully carved and gorgeously painted figurehead. the stem and stern of the ships were high. in the stern there was an upper deck, but in the forepart of the vessel there was nothing but loose planks on which the sailors could step. when a storm was raging or a battle was being fought, the loose planks did not, as you may imagine, offer a very firm foothold. the boats were usually built long and pointed for the sake of speed, and had seats for thirty rowers. besides the rowers, the long-boats could hold from sixty to one hundred and fifty sailors. ii harald fairhair harald fairhair was one of the foremost of the kings of norway. he was so brave a northman that he became king over the whole of norway. in eight hundred and sixty-one, when he began to reign, norway was divided into thirty-one little kingdoms, over each of which ruled a little king. harald fairhair began his reign by being one of these little kings. harald was only a boy, ten years of age, when he succeeded his father; but as he grew up he became a very strong and handsome man, as well as a very wise and prudent one. indeed he grew so strong that he fought with and vanquished five great kings in one battle. after this victory, harald sent, so the old chronicles of the kings of norway say, some of his men to a princess named gyda, bidding them tell her that he wished to make her his queen. but gyda wished to marry a king who ruled over a whole country, rather than one who owned but a small part of norway, and this was the message she sent back to harald: "tell harald," said the maiden, "that i will agree to be his wife if he will first, for my sake, subdue all norway to himself, for only thus methinks can he be called the king of a people." the messengers thought gyda's words too bold, but when king harald heard them, he said, "it is wonderful that i did not think of this before. and now i make a solemn vow and take god to witness, who made me and rules over all things, that never shall i clip or comb my hair until i have subdued the whole of norway with scat [land taxes], and duties, and domains." then, without delay, harald assembled a great force and prepared to conquer all the other little kings who were ruling over the different parts of norway. in many districts the kings had no warning of harald's approach, and before they could collect an army they were vanquished. when their ruler was defeated, many of his subjects fled from the country, manned their ships and sailed away on viking expeditions. others made peace with king harald and became his men. over each district, as he conquered it, harald placed a jarl or earl, that he might judge and do justice, and also that he might collect the scat and fines which harald had imposed upon the conquered people. as the earls were given a third part of the money they thus collected, they were well pleased to take service with king harald. and indeed they grew richer, and more powerful too, than they had ever been before. it took king harald ten long years to do as he had vowed, and make all norway his own. during these years a great many new bands of vikings were formed, and led by their chief or king they left the country, not choosing to become king harald's men. these viking bands went west, over the sea, to shetland and orkney, to the hebrides, and also to england, scotland, and ireland. during the winter they made their home in these lands, but in summer they sailed to the coast of norway and did much damage to the towns that lay along the coast. then, growing bolder, they ventured inland, and because of their hatred against king harald, they plundered and burned both towns and villages. meanwhile harald, having fulfilled his vow, had his hair combed and cut. it had grown so rough and tangled during these ten years that his people had named him harald sufa, which meant "shock-headed harald." now, however, after his long, yellow hair was combed and clipped, he was named harald fairhair, and by this name he was ever after known. nor did the king forget gyda, for whose sake he had made his vow. he sent for her, and she, as she had promised, came to marry the king of all norway. now the raids of the vikings along the coasts of norway angered the king, and he determined that they should end. he therefore set out with a large fleet in search of his rebellious subjects. these, when they heard of his approach, fled to their long-ships and sailed out to sea. but harald reached shetland and slew those vikings who had not fled, then, landing on the orkney isles, he burned and plundered, sparing no northman who crossed his path. on the hebrides king harald met with worthy foes, for here were many who had once themselves been kings in norway. in all the battles that he fought harald was victorious and gained much booty. when he went back to norway the king left one of his jarls to carry on war against the inhabitants of scotland. caithness and sutherland were conquered by this jarl for harald, and thereafter many chiefs, both norsemen and danes, settled there. while harald fairhair was ruling in norway, a grandson of alfred the great became king in england. his name was athelstan the victorious. now athelstan liked to think that he was a greater king than harald fairhair. it pleased him, too, to play what seemed to him a clever trick on his rival across the sea. he sent a beautiful sword to harald. its hilt was covered with gold and silver, and set with precious gems. when athelstan's messenger stood before the king of norway he held out the hilt of the sword toward him, saying "here is a sword that king athelstan doth send to thee." harald at once seized it by the hilt. then the messenger smiled and said, "now shalt thou be subject to the king of england, for thou hast taken the sword by the hilt as he desired thee." to take a sword thus was in those olden days a sign of submission. then harald was very angry, for he knew that athelstan had sent this gift only that he might mock him. he wished to punish the messenger whom athelstan had sent with the sword. nevertheless he remembered his habit whenever he got angry, to first keep quiet and let his anger subside, and then look at the matter calmly. by the time the prudent king had done this, his anger had cooled, and athelstan's messenger departed unharmed. but with athelstan harald still hoped to be equal. the following summer he sent a ship to england. it was commanded by hauk, and into his hands harald intrusted his young son hakon, whom he was sending to king athelstan. for what purpose you shall hear. hauk reached england safely, and found the king in london at a feast. the captain boldly entered the hall where the feasters sat, followed by thirty of his men, each one of whom had his shield hidden under his cloak. carrying prince hakon, who was a child, in his arms, hauk stepped before the king and saluted him. then before athelstan knew what he meant to do, hauk, had placed the little prince on the king's knee. "why hast thou done this?" said athelstan to the bold northman. "harald of norway asks thee to foster his child," answered hauk. but well he knew that his words would make the king of england wroth. for one who became foster-father to a child was usually of lower rank than the real father. this, you see, was harald's way of thanking athelstan for his gift of the sword. well, as hauk expected, the king was very angry when he heard why the little prince had been placed on his knee. he drew his sword as though he would slay the child. hauk, however, was quite undisturbed, and said, "thou hast borne the child on thy knee, and thou canst murder him if thou wilt, but thou canst not make an end of all king harald's sons by so doing." then the viking, with his men, left the hall and strode down to the river, where they embarked, and at once set sail for norway. when hauk reached norway and told the king all that he had done, harald was well content, for the king of england had been forced to become the foster-father of his little son. athelstan's anger against his royal foster-child was soon forgotten, and ere long he loved him better than any of his own kin. he ordered the priest to baptize the little prince, and to teach him the true faith. iii the sea-fight of the jomsvikings while king harald was reigning in denmark, he built on the shores of the baltic a fortress which he called jomsburg. in this fortress dwelt a famous band of vikings named the jomsvikings. it is one of their most famous sea-fights that i am going to tell you now. the leader of the band was earl sigvald, and a bold and fearless leader he had proved himself. it was at a great feast that sigvald made the rash vow which led to this mighty battle. after the horn of mead had been handed round not once or twice only, sigvald arose and vowed that, before three winters had passed, he and his band would go to norway and either kill or chase earl hakon out of the country. in the morning sigvald and his jomsvikings perhaps felt that they had vowed more than they were able to perform, yet it was not possible to withdraw from the enterprise unless they were willing to be called cowards. they therefore thought it would be well to start without delay, that they might, if possible, take earl hakon unawares. in a short time therefore the jomsviking fleet was ready, and sixty warships sailed away toward norway. no sooner did they reach earl hakon's realms than they began to plunder and burn along the coast. but while they gained booty, they lost time. for hakon, hearing of their doings, at once split a war-arrow and sent it all over the realm. it was in this way that hakon heard that the jomsvikings were in his land. in one village the vikings had, as they thought, killed all the inhabitants. but unknown to them a man had escaped with the loss of his hand, and hastening to the shore he sailed away in a light boat in search of the earl. hakon was at dinner when the fugitive stood before him. "art thou sure that thou didst see the jomsvikings?" asked hakon, when he had listened to the man's tidings. for answer, the peasant stretched out the arm from which the hand had been sundered, saying, "here is the token that the jomsvikings are in the land." it was then that hakon sent the war-arrow throughout the land and speedily gathered together a great force. eric one of his sons, also collected troops, but though the preparations for war went on apace, the jomsvikings heard nothing of them, and still thought that they would take earl hakon by surprise. at length the vikings sailed into a harbor about twenty miles north of a town called stad. as they were in want of food some of the band landed, and marched to the nearest village. here they slaughtered the men who could bear arms, burned the houses, and drove all the cattle they could find before them toward the shore. on the way to their ships, however, they met a peasant who said to them, "ye are not doing like true warriors, to be driving cows and calves down to the strand, while ye should be giving chase to the bear, since ye are come near to the bear's den." by the bear the peasant meant earl hakon, as the vikings well knew. "what says the man?" they all cried, together; "can he tell us about earl hakon?" "yesternight he lay inside the island that you can see yonder," said the peasant; "and you can slay him when you like, for he is waiting for his men." "thou shalt have all this cattle," cried one of the vikings, "if thou wilt show us the way to the jarl." then the peasant went on board the vikings' boat, and they hastened to sigvald to tell him that the earl lay in a bay but a little way off. the jomsvikings armed themselves as if they were going to meet a large army, which the peasant said was unnecessary, as the earl had but few ships and men. but no sooner had the jomsvikings come within sight of the bay than they knew that the peasant had deceived them. before them lay more than three hundred war-ships. when the peasant saw that his trick was discovered he jumped overboard, hoping to swim to shore. but one of the vikings flung a spear after him, and the peasant sank and was seen no more. now though the vikings had fewer ships than earl hakon, they were larger and higher, and sigvald hoped that this would help them to gain the victory. slowly the fleets drew together and a fierce battle began. at first hakon's men fell in great numbers, for the jomsvikings fought with all their wonted strength. so many spears also were aimed at hakon himself that his armor was split asunder and he threw it aside. when the earl saw that the battle was going against him, he called his sons together and said, "i dislike to fight against these men, for i believe that none are their equals, and i see that it will fare ill with us unless we hit upon some plan. stay here with the host and i will go ashore and see what can be done." then the jarl went into the depths of a forest, and, sinking on his knees, he prayed to the goddess thorgerd. but when no answer came to his cry, hakon thought she was angry, and to appease her wrath he sacrificed many precious things to her. yet still the goddess hid her face. in his despair hakon then promised to offer human sacrifices, but no sign was given to him that his offering would be accepted. "thou shalt have my son, my youngest son erling!" cried the king, and then at length, so it seemed to hakon, thorgerd was satisfied. he therefore gave his son, who was but seven years old, to his thrall, and bade him offer the child as a sacrifice to the goddess. then hakon went back to his ships, and lo! as the battle raged, the sky began to grow dark though it was but noon, and a storm arose and a heavy shower of hail fell. the hail was driven by the wind in the faces of the vikings, and flashes of lightning blinded them and loud peals of thunder made them afraid. but a short time before the warriors had flung aside their garments because of the heat; now the cold was so intense that they could scarce hold their weapons. while the storm raged, hakon praised the gods and encouraged his men to fight more fiercely. then, as the battle went against them, the jomsvikings saw in the clouds a troll, or fiend. in each finger the troll held an arrow, which, as it seemed to them, always hit and killed a man. sigvald saw that his men were growing fearful, and he, too; felt that the gods were against them. "it seems to me," he said, "that it is not men whom we have to fight to-day but fiends, and it requires some manliness to go boldly against them." but now the storm abated, and once more the vikings began to conquer. then the earl cried again to thorgerd, saying that now he deserved victory, for he had sacrificed to her his youngest son. then once more the storm-cloud crept over the sky and a terrific storm of hail beat upon the vikings, and now they saw, not in the clouds, but in hakon's ship, two trolls, and they were speeding arrows among the enemies of hakon. even sigvald, the renowned leader of the jomsvikings, could not stand before these unknown powers. he called to his men to flee, for, said he, "we did not vow to fight against fiends, but against men." but though sigvald sailed away with thirty-five ships, there were some of his men who scorned to flee even from fiends. twenty-five ships stayed behind to continue the fight. the viking bui was commander of one of these. his ship was boarded by hakon's men, whereupon he took one of his treasures-chests in either hand and jumped into the sea. as he jumped he cried, "overboard, all bui's men," and neither he nor those who followed him were ever seen again. before the day was ended, sigvald's brother had also sailed away with twenty-four boats, so that there was left but one boat out of all the jomsvikings' fleet. it was commanded by the viking vagn. earl hakon sent his son eric to board this boat, and after a brave fight it was captured, for vagn's men were stiff and weary with their wounds, and could scarce wield their battle-axes or spears. with thirty-six of his men vagn was taken prisoner and brought to land, and thus earl hakon had defeated the famous vikings of jomsburg. the victory was due, as hakon at least believed, to the aid of the goddess thorgerd. when the weapons and other booty which they had taken had been divided among the men, earl hakon and his chiefs sat down in their warbooths and appointed a man named thorkel to behead the prisoners. eighteen were beheaded ere the headsman came to vagn. now, as he had a dislike to this brave viking, thorkel rushed at him, holding his sword in both hands. but vagn threw himself suddenly at thorkel's feet, whereupon the headsman tripped over him. in a moment vagn was on his feet, thorkel's sword in his hand, and before any one could stop him he had slain his enemy. then earl eric, hakon's son, who loved brave men, said, "vagn, wilt thou accept life?" "that i will," said the bold viking, "if thou give it to all of us who are still alive." "loose the prisoners!" cried the young earl, and it was done. thus of the famous band of jomsvikings twelve yet lived to do many a valiant deed in days to come. hero of germany siegfried adapted by mary macgregor i mimer the blacksmith siegfried was born a prince and grew to be a hero, a hero with a heart of gold. though he could fight, and was as strong as any lion, yet he could love too and be as gentle as a child. the father and mother of the hero-boy lived in a strong castle near the banks of the great rhine river. siegmund, his father, was a rich king, sieglinde, his mother, a beautiful queen, and dearly did they love their little son siegfried. the courtiers and the high-born maidens who dwelt in the castle honored the little prince, and thought him the fairest child in all the land, as indeed he was. sieglinde, his queen-mother, would oftimes dress her little son in costly garments and lead him by the hand before the proud, strong men-at-arms who stood before the castle walls. naught had they but smiles and gentle words for their little prince. when he grew older, siegfried would ride into the country, yet always would he be attended by king siegmund's most trusted warriors. then one day armed men entered the netherlands, the country over which the king siegmund ruled, and the little prince was sent away from the castle, lest by any evil chance he should fall into the hands of the foe. siegfried was hidden away safe in the thickets of a great forest, and dwelt there under the care of a blacksmith, named mimer. mimer was a dwarf, belonging to a strange race of little folk called nibelungs. the nibelungs lived for the most part in a dark little town beneath the ground. nibelheim was the name of this little town and many of the tiny men who dwelt there were smiths. all the livelong day they would hammer on their little anvils, but all through the long night they would dance and play with tiny little nibelung women. it was not in the little dark town of nibelung that mimer had his forge, but under the trees of the great forest to which siegfried had been sent. as mimer or his pupils wielded their tools the wild beasts would start from their lair, and the swift birds would wing their flight through the mazes of the wood, lest danger lay in those heavy, resounding strokes. but siegfried, the hero-boy, would laugh for glee, and seizing the heaviest hammer he could see he would swing it with such force upon the anvil that it would be splintered into a thousand pieces. then mimer the blacksmith would scold the lad, who was now the strongest of all the lads under his care; but little heeding his rebukes, siegfried would fling himself merrily out of the smithy and hasten with great strides into the gladsome wood. for now the prince was growing a big lad, and his strength was even as the strength of ten. to-day siegfried was in a merry mood. he would repay mimer's rebukes in right good fashion. he would frighten the little blacksmith dwarf until he was forced to cry for mercy. clad in his forest dress of deerskins, with his hair as burnished gold blowing around his shoulders, siegfried wandered away into the depths of the woodland. there he seized the silver horn which hung from his girdle and raised it to his lips. a long, clear note he blew, and ere the sound had died away the boy saw a sight which pleased him well. here was good prey indeed! a bear, a great big shaggy bear was peering at him out of a bush, and as he gazed the beast opened its jaws and growled, a fierce and angry growl. not a whit afraid was siegfried. quick as lightning he had caught the great creature in his arms, and ere it could turn upon him, it was muzzled, and was being led quietly along toward the smithy. mimer was busy at his forge sharpening a sword when siegfried reached the doorway. at the sound of laughter the little dwarf raised his head. it was the prince who laughed. then mimer saw the bear, and letting the sword he held drop to the ground with a clang, he ran to hide himself in the darkest corner of the smithy. then siegfried laughed again. he was no hero-boy to-day, for next he made the big bear hunt the little nibelung dwarf from corner to corner, nor could the frightened little man escape or hide himself in darkness. again and again as he crouched in a shadowed corner, siegfried would stir up the embers of the forge until all the smithy was lighted with a ruddy glow. at length the prince tired of his game, and unmuzzling the bear he chased the bewildered beast back into the shelter of the woodland. mimer, poor little dwarf, all a-tremble with his fear, cried angrily, "thou mayest go shoot if so it please thee, and bring home thy dead prey. dead bears thou mayest bring hither if thou wilt, but live bears shalt thou leave to crouch in their lair or to roam through the forest." but siegfried, the naughty prince, only laughed at the little nibelung's frightened face and harsh, croaking voice. now as the days passed, mimer the blacksmith began to wish that siegfried had never come to dwell with him in his smithy. the prince was growing too strong, too brave to please the little dwarf; moreover, many were the mischievous tricks his pupil played on him. prince though he was, mimer would see if he could not get rid of his tormentor. for indeed though, as i have told you, siegfried had a heart of gold, at this time the gold seemed to have grown dim and tarnished. perhaps that was because the prince had learned to distrust and to dislike, nay, more, to hate the little, cunning dwarf. however that may be, it is certain that siegfried played many pranks upon the little nibelung, and he, mimer, determined to get rid of the quick-tempered, strong-handed prince. one day, therefore, it happened that the little dwarf told siegfried to go deep into the forest to bring home charcoal for the forge. and this mimer did, though he knew that in the very part of the forest to which he was sending the lad there dwelt a terrible dragon, named regin. indeed regin was a brother of the little blacksmith, and would be lying in wait for the prince. it would be but the work of a moment for the monster to seize the lad and greedily to devour him. to siegfried it was always joy to wander afar through the woodland. ofttimes had he thrown himself down on the soft, moss-covered ground and lain there hour after hour, listening to the wood-bird's song. sometimes he would even find a reed and try to pipe a tune as sweet as did the birds, but that was all in vain, as the lad soon found. no tiny songster would linger to hearken to the shrill piping of his grassy reed, and the prince himself was soon ready to fling it far away. it was no hardship then to siegfried to leave the forge and the hated little nibelung, therefore it was that with right good will he set out in search of charcoal for mimer the blacksmith. as he loitered there where the trees grew thickest, siegfried took his horn and blew it lustily. if he could not pipe on a grassy reed, at least he could blow a rousing note on his silver horn. suddenly, as siegfried blew, the trees seemed to sway, the earth to give out fire. regin, the dragon, had roused himself at the blast, and was even now drawing near to the prince. it was at the mighty strides of the monster that the trees had seemed to tremble, it was as he opened his terrible jaws that the earth had seemed to belch out fire. for a little while siegfried watched the dragon in silence. then he laughed aloud, and a brave, gay laugh it was. alone in the forest, with a sword, buckled to his side, the hero was afraid of naught, not even of regin. the ugly monster was sitting now on a little hillock, looking down upon the lad, his victim as he thought. then siegfried called boldly to the dragon, "i will kill thee, for in truth thou art an ugly monster." at those words regin opened his great jaws, and showed his terrible fangs. yet still the boy prince mocked at the hideous dragon. and now regin in his fury crept closer and closer to the lad, swinging his great tail, until he well-nigh swept siegfried from his feet. [illustration: the hero's shining sword pierced the heart of the monster.] swiftly then the prince drew his sword, well tempered as he knew, for had not he himself wrought it in the forge of mimer the blacksmith? swiftly he drew his sword, and with one bound he sprang upon the dragon's back, and as he reared himself, down came the hero's shining sword and pierced into the very heart of the monster. thus as siegfried leaped nimbly to the ground, the dragon fell back dead. regin was no longer to be feared. then siegfried did a curious thing. he had heard the little nibelung men who came to the smithy to talk with mimer, he had heard them say that whoever should bathe in the blood of regin the dragon would henceforth be safe from every foe. for his skin would grow so tough and horny that it would be to him as an armor through which no sword could ever pierce. thinking of the little nibelungs' harsh voices and wrinkled little faces as they had sat talking thus around mimer's glowing forge, siegfried now flung aside his deerskin dress and bathed himself from top to toe in the dragon's blood. but as he bathed, a leaf from off a linden tree was blown upon his shoulders, and on the spot where it rested siegfried's skin was still soft and tender as when he was a little child. it was only a tiny spot which was covered by the linden leaf, but should a spear thrust, or an arrow pierce that tiny spot, siegfried would be wounded as easily as any other man. the dragon was dead, the bath was over, and clad once more in his deerskin, siegfried set out for the smithy. he brought no charcoal for the forge; all that he carried with him was a heart afire with anger, a sword quivering to take the life of the nibelung, mimer. for now siegfried knew that the dwarf had wished to send him forth to death, when he bade him go seek charcoal in the depths of the forest. into the dusky glow of the smithy plunged the hero, and swiftly he slew the traitor mimer. then gaily, for he had but slain evil ones of whom the world was well rid, then gaily siegfried fared through the forest in quest of adventure. ii siegfried wins the treasure now this is what befell the prince. in his wanderings he reached the country called isenland, where the warlike but beautiful queen brunhild reigned. he gazed with wonder at her castle, so strong it stood on the edge of the sea, guarded by seven great gates. her marble palaces also made him marvel, so white they glittered in the sun. but most of all he marveled at this haughty queen, who refused to marry any knight unless he could vanquish her in every contest to which she summoned him. brunhild from the castle window saw the fair face and the strong limbs of the hero, and demanded that he should be brought into her presence, and as a sign of her favor she showed the young prince her magic horse gana. yet siegfried had no wish to conquer the warrior-queen and gain her hand and her broad dominions for his own. siegfried thought only of a wonder-maiden, unknown, unseen as yet, though in his heart he hid an image of her as he dreamed that she would be. it is true that siegfried had no love for the haughty brunhild. it is also true that he wished to prove to her that he alone was a match for all her boldest warriors, and had even power to bewitch her magic steed, gana, if so he willed, and steal it from her side. and so one day a spirit of mischief urged the prince on to a gay prank, as also a wayward spirit urged him no longer to brook queen brunhild's mien. before he left isenland, therefore, siegfried in a merry mood threw to the ground the seven great gates that guarded the queen's strong castle. then he called to gana, the magic steed, to follow him into the world, and this the charger did with a right good will. whether siegfried sent gana back to isenland or not i do not know, but i know that in the days to come queen brunhild never forgave the hero for his daring feat. when the prince had left isenland he rode on and on until he came to a great mountain. here near a cave he found two little dwarfish nibelungs, surrounded by twelve foolish giants. the two little nibelungs were princes, the giants were their counselors. now the king of the nibelungs had but just died in the dark little underground town of nibelheim, and the two tiny princes were the sons of the dead king. but they had not come to the mountain-side to mourn for their royal father. not so indeed had they come, but to divide the great hoard of treasure which the king had bequeathed to them at his death. already they had begun to quarrel over the treasure, and the twelve foolish giants looked on, but did not know what to say or do, so they did nothing, and never spoke at all. the dwarfs had themselves carried the hoard out of the cave where usually it was hidden, and they had spread it on the mountain-side. there it lay, gold as far as the eye could see, and farther. jewels, too, were there, more than twelve wagons could carry away in four days and nights, each going three journeys. indeed, however much you took from this marvelous treasure, never did it seem to grow less. but more precious even than the gold or the jewels of the hoard was a wonderful sword which it possessed. it was named balmung, and had been tempered by the nibelungs in their glowing forges underneath the glad green earth. before the magic strength of balmung's stroke, the strongest warrior must fall, nor could his armor save him, however close its links had been welded by some doughty smith. as siegfried rode towards the two little dwarfs, they turned and saw him, with his bright, fair face, and flowing locks. nimble as little hares they darted to his side, and begged that he would come and divide their treasure. he should have the good sword balmung as reward, they cried. siegfried dismounted, well pleased to do these ugly little men a kindness. but alas! ere long the dwarfs began to mock at the hero with their harsh voices, and to wag their horrid little heads at him, while they screamed in a fury that he was not dividing the treasure as they wished. then siegfried grew angry with the tiny princes, and seizing the magic sword, he cut off their heads. the twelve foolish giants also he slew, and thus became himself master of the marvelous hoard as well as of the good sword balmung. seven hundred valiant champions, hearing the blast of the hero's horn, now gather together to defend the country from this strange young warrior. but he vanquished them all, and forced them to promise that they would henceforth serve no other lord save him alone. and this they did, being proud of his great might. now tidings of the slaughter of the two tiny princes had reached nibelheim, and great was the wrath of the little men and little women who dwelt in the dark town beneath the earth. alberich, the mightiest of all the dwarfs, gathered together his army of little gnomes to avenge the death of the two dwarf princes and also, for alberich was a greedy man, to gain for himself the great hoard. when siegfried saw alberich at the head of his army of little men he laughed aloud, and with a light heart he chased them all into the great cave on the mountain-side. from off the mighty dwarf, alberich, he stripped his famous cloak of darkness, which made him who wore it not only invisible, but strong as twelve strong men. he snatched also from the dwarf's fingers his wishing-rod, which was a magic wand. and last of all he made alberich and his thousands of tiny warriors take an oath, binding them evermore to serve him alone. then hiding the treasure in the cave with the seven hundred champions whom he had conquered, he left alberich and his army of little men to guard it, until he came again. and alberich and his dwarfs were faithful to the hero who had shorn them of their treasure, and served him for evermore. siegfried, the magic sword balmung by his side, the cloak of darkness thrown over his arm, the magic wand in his strong right hand, went over the mountain, across the plains, nor did he tarry until he came again to the castle built on the banks of the river rhine in his own low-lying country of the netherlands. iii siegfried comes home the walls of the old castle rang. king siegmund, his knights and liegemen, all were welcoming prince siegfried home. they had not seen their hero-prince since he had been sent long years before to be under the charge of mimer the blacksmith. he had grown but more fair, more noble, they thought, as they gazed upon his stalwart limbs, his fearless eyes. and what tales of prowess clustered around his name! already their prince had done great deeds as he had ridden from land to land. the king and his liegemen had heard of the slaughter of the terrible dragon, of the capture of the great treasure, of the defiance of the warlike and beautiful brunhild. they could wish for no more renowned prince than their own prince siegfried. thus siegmund and his subjects rejoiced that the heir to the throne was once again in his own country. in the queen's bower, too, there was great joy. sieglinde wept, but her tears were not those of sadness. sieglinde wept for very gladness that her son had come home safe from his wonderful adventures. now siegmund wished to give a great feast in honor of his son. it should be on his birthday which was very near, the birthday on which the young prince would be twenty-one years of age. far and wide throughout the netherlands and into distant realms tidings of the feast were borne. kinsmen and strangers, lords and ladies, all were asked to the banquet in the great castle hall where siegmund reigned supreme. it was the merry month of june when the feast was held, and the sun shone bright on maidens in fair raiment, on knights in burnished armor. siegfried was to be knighted on this june day along with four hundred young squires of his father's realm. the prince was clad in gorgeous armor, and on the cloak flung around his shoulders jewels were seen to sparkle in the sunlight, jewels made fast with gold embroidery worked by the white hands of the queen and her fair damsels. in games and merry pastimes the hours of the day sped fast away, until the great bell of the minster pealed, calling the gay company to the house of god for evensong. siegfried and the four hundred squires knelt before the altar, ere they were knighted by the royal hand of siegmund the king. the solemn service ended, the new-made knights hastened back to the castle, and there in the great hall a mighty tournament was held. knights who had grown gray in service tilted with those who but that day had been given the grace of knighthood. lances splintered, shields fell before the mighty onslaughts of the gallant warriors, until king siegmund bade the tilting cease. then in the great hall feasting and song held sway until daylight faded and the stars shone bright. yet no weariness knew the merrymakers. the next morning, and for six long summer days, they tilted, they sang, they feasted. when at length the great festival drew to a close, siegmund in the presence of his guests gave to his dear son siegfried many lands and strong castles over which he might be lord. to all his son's comrades, too, the king gave steeds and costly raiment, while queen sieglinde bestowed upon them freely coins of gold. such abundant gifts had never before been dreamed of as were thus lavished by siegmund and sieglinde on their guests. as the rich nobles looked upon the brave young prince siegfried, there were some who whispered among themselves that they would fain have him to rule in the land. siegfried heard their whispers, but in no wise did he give heed to the wish of the nobles. never, he thought while his beautiful mother and his bounteous father lived, would he wear the crown. indeed siegfried had no wish to sit upon a throne, he wished but to subdue the evil-doers in the land. or better still, he wished to go forth in search of new adventure. and this right soon he did. iv siegfried at the court of worms at the court of worms in burgundy dwelt the princess kriemhild, whose fame for beauty and kindness had spread to many a far-off land. she lived with her mother queen uté and her three brothers king gunther, king gernot, and king giselher. her father had long been dead. gunther sat upon the throne and had for chief counselor his cruel uncle hagen. one night kriemhild dreamed that a beautiful wild hawk with feathers of gold came and perched upon her wrist. it grew so tame that she took it with her to the hunt. upward it soared when loosed toward the bright blue sky. then the dream-maiden saw two mighty eagles swoop down upon her petted hawk and tear it to pieces. the princess told her dream to her mother, who said, "the hawk, my daughter, is a noble knight who shall be thy husband, but, alas, unless god defend him from his foes, thou shalt lose him ere he has long been thine." kriemhild replied, "o lady mother, i wish no knight to woo me from thy side." "nay," said the queen, "speak not thus, for god will send to thee a noble knight and strong." hearing of the princess, siegfried, who lived in the netherlands, began to think that she was strangely like the unknown maiden whose image he carried in his heart. so he set out to go into burgundy to see the beautiful kriemhild who had sent many knights away. siegfried's father wished to send an army with him but siegfried said, "nay, give me only, i pray thee, eleven stalwart warriors." tidings had reached king gunther of the band of strangers who had so boldly entered the royal city. he sent for hagen, chief counselor, who said they must needs be princes or ambassadors. "one knight, the fairest and the boldest, is, methinks, the wondrous hero siegfried, who has won great treasure from the nibelungs, and has killed two little princely dwarfs, their twelve giants, and seven hundred great champions of the neighboring country with his good sword balmung." graciously then did the king welcome siegfried. "i beseech thee, noble knight," said the king, "tell me why thou hast journeyed to this our royal city?" now siegfried was not ready to speak of the fair princess, so he told the king that he had come to see the splendor of the court and to do great deeds, even to wrest from him the broad realm of burgundy and likewise all his castles. "unless thou dost conquer me i shall rule in my great might in this realm." "we do well to be angry at the words of this bold stripling," said hagen. a quarrel arose, but king gernot, gunther's brother, made peace and siegfried began to think of the wonderlady of his dreams and grew ashamed of his boasting. then all burgundy began to hear of siegfried. at the end of the year burgundy was threatened with invasion. king ludegast and king ludeger threatened mighty wars. when siegfried heard of this he said, "if trouble hath come to thee, my arm is strong to bring thee aid. if thy foes were as many as thirty thousand, yet with one thousand warriors would i destroy them. therefore, leave the battle in my hands." when the rude kings heard that siegfried would fight for burgundy their hearts failed for fear and in great haste they gathered their armies. king gunther meanwhile had assembled his men and the chief command was given to hagen, but siegfried rode forward to seek the foe. in advance of their warriors stood ludegast and ludeger ready for the fray. grasping his good sword balmung, siegfried first met ludegast piercing him through his steel harness with an ugly thrust till he lay helpless at his feet. thirty of the king's warriors rode up and beset the hero, but siegfried slaughtered all save one. he was spared to carry the dire tidings of the capture of ludegast to his army. ludeger had seen the capture of his brother and met the onslaught that siegfried soon made upon him. but with a great blow siegfried struck the shield from ludeger's hold, and in a moment more he had him at his mercy. for the second time that day the prince was victor over a king. when uté, the mother of kriemhild, heard that a grand festival celebrating the prowess of prince siegfried was to be held at court, she made up her mind that she and her daughter would lend their gracious presence. many noble guests were there gathered and when the knights entered the lists the king sent a hundred of his liegemen to bring the queen and the princess to the great hall. when siegfried saw the princess he knew that she was indeed more beautiful than he had ever dreamed. a messenger was sent by the king bidding him greet the princess. "be welcome here, sir siegfried, for thou art a good and noble knight," said the maiden softly, "for right well hast thou served my royal brother." "thee will i serve for ever," cried the happy hero, "thee will i serve for ever, and thy wishes shall ever be my will!" then for twelve glad days were siegfried and kriemhild ofttimes side by side. v. siegfried goes to isenland whitsuntide had come and gone when tidings from beyond the rhine reached the court at worms. no dread tidings were these, but glad and good to hear, of a matchless queen named brunhild who dwelt in isenland. king gunther listened with right good will to the tales of this warlike maiden, for if she were beautiful she was also strong as any warrior. wayward, too, she was, yet gunther would fain have her as his queen to sit beside him on his throne. one day the king sent for siegfried to tell him that he would fain journey to isenland to wed queen brunhild. now siegfried, as you know, had been in isenland and knew some of the customs of this wayward queen. so he answered the king right gravely that it would be a dangerous journey across the sea to isenland, nor would he win the queen unless he were able to vanquish her great strength. he told the king how brunhild would challenge him to three contests, or games, as she would call them. and if she were the victor, as indeed she had been over many a royal suitor, then his life would be forfeited. at her own desire kings and princes had hurled the spear at the stalwart queen, and it had but glanced harmless off her shield, while she would pierce the armor of these valiant knights with her first thrust. this was one of the queen's games. then the knights would hasten to the ring and throw the stone from them as far as might be, yet ever queen brunhild threw it farther. for this was another game of the warrior-queen. the third game was to leap beyond the stone which they had thrown, but ever to their dismay the knights saw this marvelous maiden far outleap them all. these valorous knights, thus beaten in the three contests, had been beheaded, and therefore it was that siegfried spoke so gravely to king gunther. but gunther, so he said, was willing to risk his life to win so brave a bride. now hagen had drawn near to the king, and as he listened to siegfried's words, the grim warrior said, "sire, since the prince knows the customs of isenland, let him go with thee on thy journey, to share thy dangers, and to aid thee in the presence of this warlike queen." and hagen, for he hated the hero, hoped that he might never return alive from isenland. but the king was pleased with his counselor's words. "sir siegfried," he said, "wilt thou help me to win the matchless maiden brunhild for my queen?" "that right gladly will i do," answered the prince, "if thou wilt promise to give me thy sister kriemhild as my bride, should i bring thee back safe from isenland, the bold queen at thy side." then the king promised that on the same day that he wedded brunhild, his sister should wed prince siegfried, and with this promise the hero was well content. "thirty thousand warriors will i summon to go with us to isenland," cried king gunther gaily. "nay," said the prince, "thy warriors would but be the victims of this haughty queen. as plain knight-errants will we go, taking with us none, save hagen the keen-eyed and his brother dankwart." then king gunther, his face aglow with pleasure, went with sir siegfried to his sister's bower, and begged her to provide rich garments in which he and his knights might appear before the beauteous queen brunhild. "thou shalt not beg this service from me," cried the gentle princess, "rather shalt thou command that which thou dost wish. see, here have i silk in plenty. send thou the gems from off thy bucklers, and i and my maidens will work them with gold embroideries into the silk." thus the sweet maiden dismissed her brother, and sending for her thirty maidens who were skilled in needlework she bade them sew their daintiest stitches, for here were robes to be made for the king and sir siegfried ere they went to bring queen brunhild into rhineland. for seven weeks kriemhild and her maidens were busy in their bower. silk white as new-fallen snow, silk green as the leaves in spring did they shape into garments worthy to be worn by the king and sir siegfried, and amid the gold embroideries glittered many a radiant gem. meanwhile down by the banks of the rhine a vessel was being built to carry the king across the sea to isenland. when all was ready the king and sir siegfried went to the bower of the princess. they would put on the silken robes and the beautiful cloaks kriemhild and her maidens had sewed to see that they were neither too long nor too short. but indeed the skilful hands of the princess had not erred. no more graceful or more beautiful garments had ever before been seen by the king or the prince. "sir siegfried," said the gentle kriemhild, "care for my royal brother lest danger befall him in the bold queen's country. bring him home both safe and sound i beseech thee." the hero bowed his head and promised to shield the king from danger, then they said farewell to the maiden, and embarked in the little ship that awaited them on the banks of the rhine. nor did siegfried forget to take with him his cloak of darkness and his good sword balmung. now none was there on the ship save king gunther, siegfried, hagen, and dankwart, but siegfried with his cloak of darkness had the strength of twelve men as well as his own strong right hand. merrily sailed the little ship, steered by sir siegfried himself. soon the rhine river was left behind and they were out on the sea, a strong wind filling their sails. ere evening, full twenty miles had the good ship made. for twelve days they sailed onward, until before them rose the grim fortress that guarded isenland. "what towers are these?" cried king gunther, as he gazed upon the turreted castle which looked as a grim sentinel guarding the land. "these," answered the hero, "are queen brunhild's towers and this is the country over which she rules." then turning to hagen and dankwart siegfried begged them to let him be spokesman to the queen, for he knew her wayward moods. "and king gunther shall be my king," said the prince, "and i but his vassal until we leave isenland." and hagen and dankwart, proud men though they were, obeyed in all things the words of the young prince of the netherlands. vi siegfried subdues brunhild the little ship had sailed on now close beneath the castle, so close indeed that as the king looked up to the window he could catch glimpses of beautiful maidens passing to and fro. sir siegfried also looked and laughed aloud for glee. it would be but a little while until brunhild was won and he was free to return to his winsome lady kriemhild. by this time the maidens in the castle had caught sight of the ship, and many bright eyes were peering down upon king gunther and his three brave comrades. "look well at the fair maidens, sire," said siegfried to the king. "among them all show me her whom thou wouldst choose most gladly as your bride." "seest thou the fairest of the band," cried the king, "she who is clad in a white garment? it is she and no other whom i would wed." right merrily then laughed siegfried. "the maiden," said he gaily, "is in truth none other than queen brunhild herself." the king and his warriors now moored their vessel and leaped ashore, siegfried leading with him the king's charger. for each knight had brought his steed with him from the fair land of burgundy. more bright than ever beamed the bright eyes of the ladies at the castle window. so fair, so gallant a knight never had they seen, thought the damsels as they gazed upon sir siegfried. and all the while king gunther dreamed their glances were bent on no other than himself. siegfried held the noble steed until king gunther had mounted, and this he did that queen brunhild might not know that he was the prince of the netherlands, owing service to no man. then going back to the ship the hero brought his own horse to land, mounted, and rode with the king toward the castle gate. king and prince were clad alike. their steeds as well as their garments were white as snow, their saddles were bedecked with jewels, and on the harness hung bells, all of bright red gold. their shields shone as the sun, their spears they wore before them, their swords hung by their sides. behind them followed hagen and dankwart, their armor black as the plumage of the wild raven, their shields strong and mighty. as they approached the castle gates were flung wide open, and the liegemen of the great queen came out to greet the strangers with words of welcome. they bid their hirelings also take the shields and chargers from their guests. but when a squire demanded that the strangers should also yield their swords, grim hagen smiled his grimmest, and cried, "nay, our swords will we e'en keep lest we have need of them." nor was he too well pleased when siegfried told him that the custom in isenland was that no guest should enter the castle carrying a weapon. it was but sullenly that he let his sword be taken away along with his mighty shield. after the strangers had been refreshed with wine, her liegemen sent to the queen to tell her that strange guests had arrived. "who are the strangers who come thus unheralded to my land?" haughtily demanded brunhild. but no one could tell her who the warriors were, though some murmured that the tallest and fairest might be the great hero siegfried. it may be that the queen thought that if the knight were indeed siegfried she would revenge herself on him now for the mischievous pranks he had played the last time he was in her kingdom. in any case she said, "if the hero is here he shall enter into contest with me, and he shall pay for his boldness with his life, for i shall be the victor." then with five hundred warriors, each with his sword in hand, brunhild came down to the knights from burgundy. "be welcome, siegfried," she cried, "yet wherefore hast thou come again to isenland?" "i thank thee for thy greeting, lady," said the prince, "but thou hast welcomed me before my lord. he, king gunther, ruler over the fair realms of burgundy, hath come hither to wed with thee." brunhild was displeased that the mighty hero should not himself seek to win her as a bride, yet since for all his prowess he seemed but a vassal of the king, she answered, "if thy master can vanquish me in the contests to which i bid him, then i will be his wife, but if i conquer thy master, his life, and the lives of his followers will be forfeited." "what dost thou demand of my master?" asked hagen. "he must hurl the spear with me, throw the stone from the ring, and leap to where it has fallen," said the queen. now while brunhild was speaking, siegfried whispered to the king to fear nothing, but to accept the queen's challenge. "i will be near though no one will see me, to aid thee in the struggle," he whispered. gunther had such trust in the prince that he at once cried boldly, "queen brunhild, i do not fear even to risk my life that i may win thee for my bride." then the bold maiden called for her armor, but when gunther saw her shield, "three spans thick with gold and iron, which four chamberlains could hardly bear," his courage began to fail. while the queen donned her silken fighting doublet, which could turn aside the sharpest spear, siegfried slipped away unnoticed to the ship, and swiftly flung around him his cloak of darkness. then unseen by all, he hastened back to king gunther's side. a great javelin was then given to the queen, and she began to fight with her suitor, and so hard were her thrusts that but for siegfried the king would have lost his life. "give me thy shield," whispered the invisible hero in the king's ear, "and tell no one that i am here." then as the maiden hurled her spear with all her force against the shield which she thought was held by the king, the shock well-nigh drove both gunther and his unseen friend to their knees. but in a moment siegfried's hand had dealt the queen such a blow with the handle of his spear (he would not use the sharp point against a woman) that the maiden cried aloud, "king gunther, thou hast won this fray." for as she could not see siegfried because of his cloak of darkness, she could not but believe that it was the king who had vanquished her. in her wrath the queen now sped to the ring, where lay a stone so heavy that it could scarce be lifted by twelve strong men. but brunhild lifted it with ease, and threw it twelve arms' length beyond the spot on which she stood. then, leaping after it, she alighted even farther than she had thrown the stone. gunther now stood in the ring, and lifted the stone which had again been placed within it. he lifted it with an effort, but at once siegfried's unseen hand grasped it and threw it with such strength that it dropped even beyond the spot to which it had been flung by the queen. lifting king gunther with him siegfried next jumped far beyond the spot on which the queen had alighted. and all the warriors marveled to see their queen thus vanquished by the strange king. for you must remember that not one of them could see that it was siegfried who had done these deeds of prowess. now in the contest, still unseen, siegfried had taken from the queen her ring and her favorite girdle. with angry gestures brunhild called to her liegemen to come and lay their weapons down at king gunther's feet to do him homage. henceforth they must be his thralls and own him as their lord. as soon as the contests were over, siegfried had slipped back to the ship and hidden his cloak of darkness. then boldly he came back to the great hall, and pretending to know nothing of the games begged to be told who had been the victor, if indeed they had already taken place. when he had heard that queen brunhild had been vanquished, the hero laughed, and cried gaily, "then, noble maiden, thou must go with us to rhineland to wed king gunther." "a strange way for a vassal to speak," thought the angry queen, and she answered with a proud glance at the knight, "nay, that will i not do until i have summoned my kinsmen and my good lieges. for i will myself say farewell to them ere ever i will go to rhineland." thus heralds were sent throughout brunhild's realms, and soon from morn to eve her kinsmen and her liegemen rode into the castle, until it seemed as though a mighty army were assembling. "does the maiden mean to wage war against us," said hagen grimly. "i like not the number of her warriors." then said siegfried, "i will leave thee for a little while and go across the sea, and soon will i return with a thousand brave warriors, so that no evil may befall us." so the prince went down alone to the little ship and set sail across the sea. vii siegfried and the princess the ship in which siegfried set sail drifted on before the wind, while those in queen brunhild's castle marveled, for no one was to be seen on board. this was because the hero had again donned his cloak of darkness. on and on sailed the little ship until at length it drew near to the land of the nibelungs. then siegfried left his vessel and again climbed the mountain-side, where long before he had cut off the heads of the little nibelung princes. he reached the cave into which he had thrust the treasure, and knocked loudly at the door. the cave was the entrance to nibelheim the dark, little town beneath the glad, green grass. siegfried might have entered the cave, but he knocked that he might see if the treasure were well guarded. then the porter, who was a great giant, when he heard the knock buckled on his armor and opened the door. seeing, as he thought in his haste, a strange knight standing before him he fell upon him with a bar of iron. so strong was the giant that it was with difficulty that the prince overcame him and bound him hand and foot. alberich meanwhile had heard the mighty blows, which indeed had shaken nibelheim to its foundations. now the dwarf had sworn fealty to siegfried, and when he, as the giant had done, mistook the prince for a stranger, he seized a heavy whip with a gold handle and rushed upon him, smiting his shield with the knotted whip until it fell to pieces. too pleased that his treasures were so well defended to be angry, siegfried now seized the little dwarf by his beard, and pulled it so long and so hard that alberich was forced to cry for mercy. then siegfried bound him hand and foot as he had done the giant. alberich, poor little dwarf, gnashed his teeth with rage. who would guard the treasure now, and who would warn his master that a strong man had found his way to nibelheim? but in the midst of his fears he heard the stranger's merry laugh. nay, it was no stranger, none but the hero-prince could laugh thus merrily. "i am siegfried your master," then said the prince. "i did but test thy faithfulness, alberich," and laughing still, the hero undid the cords with which he had bound the giant and the dwarf. "call me here quickly the nibelung warriors," cried siegfried, "for i have need of them." and soon thirty thousand warriors stood before him in shining armor. choosing one thousand of the strongest and biggest, the prince marched with them down to the seashore. there they embarked in ships and sailed away to isenland. now it chanced that queen brunhild was walking on the terrace of her sea-guarded castle with king gunther when she saw a number of sails approaching. "whose can these ships be?" she cried in quick alarm. "these are my warriors who have followed me from burgundy," answered the king, for thus had siegfried bidden him speak. "we will go to welcome the fleet," said brunhild, and together they met the brave nibelung army and lodged them in isenland. "now will i give of my silver and my gold to my liegemen and to gunther's warriors," said queen brunhild, and she held out the keys of her treasury to dankwart that he might do her will. but so lavishly did the knight bestow her gold and her costly gems and her rich raiment upon the warriors that the queen grew angry. "naught shall i have left to take with me to rhineland," she cried aloud in her vexation. "in burgundy," answered hagen, "there is gold enough and to spare. thou wilt not need the treasures of isenland." but these words did not content the queen. she would certainly take at least twenty coffers of gold as well as jewels and silks with her to king gunther's land. at length, leaving isenland to the care of her brother, queen brunhild, with twenty hundred of her own warriors as a bodyguard, with eighty-six dames and one hundred maidens, set out for the royal city of worms. for nine days the great company journeyed homeward, and then king gunther entreated siegfried to be his herald to worms. "beg queen uté and the princess kriemhild," said the king, "beg them to ride forth to meet my bride and to prepare to hold high festival in honor of the wedding-feast." thus siegfried with four-and-twenty knights sailed on more swiftly than the other ships, and landing at the mouth of the river rhine, rode hastily toward the royal city. the queen and her daughter, clad in their robes of state, received the hero, and his heart was glad, for once again he stood in the presence of his dear lady, kriemhild. "be welcome, my lord siegfried," she cried, "thou worthy knight, be welcome. but where is my brother? has he been vanquished by the warrior-queen? oh, woe is me if he is lost, wo is me that ever i was born," and the tears rolled down the maiden's cheeks. "nay, now," said the prince, "thy brother is well and of good cheer. i have come, a herald of glad tidings. for even now the king is on his way to worms, bringing with him his hard-won bride." then the princess dried her tears, and graciously did she bid the hero to sit by her side. "i would i might give thee a reward for thy services," said the gentle maiden, "but too rich art thou to receive my gold." "a gift from thy hands would gladden my heart," said the gallant prince. blithely then did kriemhild send for four-and-twenty buckles, all inlaid with precious stones, and these did she give to siegfried. siegfried bent low before the lady kriemhild, for well did he love the gracious giver, yet would he not keep for himself her gifts, but gave them, in his courtesy, to her four-and-twenty maidens. then the prince told queen uté that the king begged her and the princess to ride forth from worms to greet his bride, and to prepare to hold high festival in the royal city. "it shall be done even as the king desires," said the queen, while kriemhild sat silent, smiling with gladness, because her knight sir siegfried had come home. in joy and merriment the days flew by, while the court at worms prepared to hold high festival in honor of king gunther's matchless bride. as the royal ships drew near, queen uté and the princess kriemhild, accompanied by many a gallant knight, rode along the banks of the rhine to greet queen brunhild. already the king had disembarked, and was leading his bride toward his gracious mother. courteously did queen uté welcome the stranger, while kriemhild kissed her and clasped her in her arms. some, as they gazed upon the lovely maidens, said that the warlike queen brunhild was more beautiful than the gentle princess kriemhild, but others, and these were the wiser, said that none could excel the peerless sister of the king. in the great plain of worms silk tents and gay pavilions had been placed. and there the ladies took shelter from the heat, while before them knights and warriors held a gay tournament. then, in the cool of the evening, a gallant train of lords and ladies, they rode toward the castle at worms. queen uté and her daughter went to their own apartments, while the king with brunhild went into the banquet-hall where the wedding-feast was spread. but ere the feast had begun, siegfried came and stood before the king. "sire," he said, "hast thou forgotten thy promise, that when brunhild entered the royal city thy lady sister should be my bride?" "nay," cried the king, "my royal word do i ever keep," and going out into the hall he sent for the princess. "dear sister," said gunther, as she bowed before him, "i have pledged my word to a warrior that thou wilt become his bride, wilt thou help me to keep my promise?" now siegfried was standing by the king's side as he spoke. then the gentle maiden answered meekly, "thy will, dear brother, is ever mine. i will take as lord him to whom thou hast promised my hand." and she glanced shyly at siegfried, for surely this was the warrior to whom her royal brother had pledged his word. right glad then was the king, and siegfried grew rosy with delight as he received the lady's troth. then together they went to the banquet-hall, and on a throne next to king gunther sat the hero-prince, the lady kriemhild by his side. when the banquet was ended, the king was wedded to queen brunhild, and siegfried to the maiden whom he loved so well, and though he had no crown to place upon her brow, the princess was well content. hero of france roland adapted by h.e. marshall i blancandrin's mission for seven long years the great emperor charlemagne had been fighting in spain against the saracens; saragossa alone remained unconquered, but word had gone forth that it, too, was doomed. king marsil, not knowing how to save his city from the conqueror, called a council of his wise men. blancandrin, a knight of great valor, was chosen with ten others to set out with olive-branches in their hands, followed by a great train of slaves bearing presents, to seek the court of the great christian king and sue for peace. bending low before charlemagne, blancandrin promised for king marsil vassalage to the emperor and baptism in the name of the holy christ. to assure the truth of his words, he said "we will give thee hostages, i will even send my own son if we keep not faith with thee." in the morning charlemagne called his wise men and told them the message of blancandrin. then roland, one of the twelve chosen knights and the nephew of charlemagne, rose flushed with anger and cried, "believe not this marsil, he was ever a traitor. carry the war to saragossa. war! i say war!" ganelon a knight, who hated roland, strode to the foot of the throne, saying, "listen not to the counsel of fools but accept king marsil's gifts and promises." following the counsel of duke naimes the wisest of the court, charlemagne declared that some one should be sent to king marsil and asked the lords whom he should send. "send me," cried roland. "nay," said oliver, "let me go rather." but the emperor said, "not a step shall ye go, either one or other of you." "ah!" said roland, "if i may not go, then send ganelon my stepfather." "good!" replied the great emperor, "ganelon it shall be." ganelon trembled with passion and said, "this is roland's work," for he knew he would never return alive to his wife and child. the quarrel between roland and ganelon was bitter indeed. "i hate thee," ganelon hissed at last. "i hate thee!" then, struggling to be calm, he turned to the emperor and said, "i am ready to do thy will." "fair sir ganelon," said charlemagne, "this is my message to the heathen king marsil. say to him that he shall bend the knee to gentle christ and be baptized in his name. then will i give him full half of spain to hold in fief. over the other half count roland, my nephew, well beloved, shall reign." without a word of farewell ganelon went to his own house. there he clad himself in his finest armor. commending his wife and child to the care of the knights who pressed round to bid him godspeed, ganelon, with bent head, turned slowly from their sight and rode to join the heathen blancandrin. ii ganelon's treason as ganelon and blancandrin rode along together beneath the olive-trees and through the fruitful vineyards of sunny spain, the heathen began to talk cunningly. "what a wonderful knight is thy emperor," he said. "he hath conquered the world from sea to sea. but why cometh he within our borders? why left he us not in peace?" "it was his will," replied ganelon. "there is no man in all the world so great as he. none may stand against him." "you franks are gallant men indeed," said blancandrin, "but your dukes and counts deserve blame when they counsel the emperor to fight with us now." "there is none deserveth that blame save roland," said ganelon. "such pride as his ought to be punished. oh, that some one would slay him!" he cried fiercely. "then should we have peace." "this roland is very cruel," said blancandrin, "to wish to conquer all the world as he does. but in whom does he trust for help?" "in the franks," said ganelon. "they love him with such a great love that they think he can do no wrong. he giveth them gold and silver, jewels and armor, so they serve him. even to the emperor himself he maketh rich presents. he will not rest until he hath conquered all the world, from east to west." the saracen looked at ganelon out of the corner of his eye. he was a noble knight, but now that his face was dark with wrath and jealousy, he looked like a felon. "listen thou to me," said blancandrin softly. "dost wish to be avenged upon roland? then, by mahomet! deliver him into our hands. king marsil is very generous; for such a kindness he will willingly give unto thee of his countless treasure." ganelon heard the tempter's voice, but he rode onward as if unheeding, his chin sunken upon his breast, his eyes dark with hatred. but long ere the ride was ended and saragossa reached, the heathen lord and christian knight had plotted together for the ruin of roland. at length the journey was over, and ganelon lighted down before king marsil, who awaited him beneath the shadow of his orchard-trees, seated upon a marble throne covered with rich silken rugs. around him crowded his nobles, silent and eager to learn how blancandrin had fared upon his errand. bowing low, blancandrin approached the throne, leading ganelon by the hand. "greeting," he said, "in the name of mahomet. well, o marsil, have i done thy behest to the mighty christian king. but save that he raised his hands to heaven and gave thanks to his god, no answer did he render to me. but unto thee he sendeth one of his nobles, a very powerful man in france. from him shalt thou learn if thou shalt have peace or war." "let him speak," said king marsil. "we will listen." "greeting," said ganelon, "in the name of god--the god of glory whom we ought all to adore. listen ye to the command of charlemagne: thou, o king, shalt receive the christian faith, then half of spain will he leave to thee to hold in fief. the other half shall be given to count roland--a haughty companion thou wilt have there. if thou wilt not agree to this, charlemagne will besiege saragossa, and thou shalt be led captive to aix, there to die a vile and shameful death." king marsil shook with anger and turned pale. in his hand he held an arrow fledged with gold. now, springing from his throne, he raised his arm as if he would strike ganelon. but the knight laid his hand upon his sword and drew it half out of the scabbard. "sword," he cried, "thou art bright and beautiful; oft have i carried thee at the court of my king. it shall never be said of me that i died alone in a foreign land, among fierce foes, ere thou wert dipped in the blood of their bravest and best." for a few moments the heathen king and the christian knight eyed each other in deep silence. then the air was filled with shouts. "part them, part them!" cried the saracens. the noblest of the saracens rushed between their king and ganelon. "it was a foolish trick to raise thy hand against the christian knight," said marsil's calif, seating him once more upon his throne. "'twere well to listen to what he hath to say." "sir," said ganelon proudly, "thinkest thou for all the threats in the wide world i will be silent and not speak the message which the mighty charlemagne sendeth to his mortal enemy? nay, i would speak, if ye were all against me." and keeping his right hand still upon the golden pommel of his sword, with his left he unclasped his cloak of fur and silk and cast it upon the steps of the throne. there, in his strength and splendor, he stood defying them all. "'tis a noble knight!" cried the heathen in admiration. then once more turning to king marsil, ganelon gave him the emperor's letter. as he broke the seal and read, marsil's brow grew black with anger. "listen, my lords," he cried; "because i slew yonder insolent christian knights, the emperor charlemagne bids me beware his wrath. he commands that i shall send unto him as hostage mine uncle the calif." "this is some madness of ganelon!" cried a heathen knight. "he is only worthy of death. give him unto me, and i will see that justice is done upon him." so saying, he laid his hand upon his sword. like a flash of lightning ganelon's good blade murglies sprang from its sheath, and with his back against a tree, the christian knight prepared to defend himself to the last. but once again the fight was stopped, and this time blancandrin led ganelon away. then, walking alone with the king, blancandrin told of all that he had done, and of how even upon the way hither, ganelon had promised to betray roland, who was charlemagne's greatest warrior. "and if he die," said blancandrin, "then is our peace sure." "bring hither the christian knight to me," cried king marsil. so blancandrin went, and once more leading ganelon by the hand, brought him before the king. "fair sir ganelon," said the wily heathen, "i did a rash and foolish thing when in anger i raised my hand to strike at thee. as a token that thou wilt forget it, accept this cloak of sable. it is worth five hundred pieces of gold." and lifting a rich cloak, he clasped it about the neck of ganelon. "i may not refuse it," said the knight, looking down. "may heaven reward thee!" "trust me, sir ganelon," said king marsil, "i love thee well. but keep thou our counsels secret. i would hear thee talk of charlemagne. he is very old, is he not?--more than two hundred years old. he must be worn out and weary, for he hath fought so many battles and humbled so many kings in the dust. he ought to rest now from his labors in his city of aix." ganelon shook his head. "nay," he said, "such is not charlemagne. all those who have seen him know that our emperor is a true warrior. i know not how to praise him enough before you, for there is nowhere a man so full of valor and of goodness. i would rather die than leave his service." "in truth," said marsil, "i marvel greatly. i had thought that charlemagne had been old and worn. then if it is not so, when will he cease his wars?" "ah," said ganelon, "that he will never do so long as his nephew roland lives. under the arch of heaven there bides no baron so splendid or so proud. oliver, his friend, also is full of prowess and of valor. with them and his peers beside him, charlemagne feareth no man." "fair sir ganelon," said king marsil boldly, knowing his hatred, "tell me, how shall i slay roland?" "that i can tell thee," said ganelon. "promise thou the emperor all that he asketh of thee. send hostages and presents to him. he will then return to france. his army will pass through the valley of roncesvalles. i will see to it that roland and his friend oliver lead the rear-guard. they will lag behind the rest of the army, then there shalt thou fall upon them with all thy mighty men. i say not but that thou shalt lose many a knight, for roland and his peers will fight right manfully. but in the end, being so many more than they, thou shalt conquer. roland shall lie dead, and slaying him thou wilt cut off the right arm of charlemagne. then farewell to the wondrous army of france. never again shall charlemagne gather such a company, and within the borders of spain there shall be peace for evermore." when ganelon had finished speaking, the king threw his arms about his neck and kissed him. then turning to his slaves, he commanded them to bring great treasure of gold, and silver and precious stones, and lay it at the feet of the knight. "but swear to me," said marsil, "that roland shall be in the rear-guard, and swear to me his death." and ganelon, laying his hand upon his sword murglies, swore by the holy relics therein, that he would bring roland to death. then came a heathen knight who gave to ganelon a sword, the hilt of which glittered with gems so that the eyes were dazzled in looking upon it. "let but roland be in the rear-guard," he said, "and it is thine." then he kissed ganelon on both cheeks. soon another heathen knight followed him, laughing joyfully. "here is my helmet," he cried. "it is the richest and best ever beaten out of steel. it is thine so that thou truly bring roland to death and shame." and he, too, kissed ganelon. next came bramimonde, marsil's queen. she was very beautiful. her dark hair was strung with pearls, and her robes of silk and gold swept the ground. her hands were full of glittering gems. bracelets and necklaces of gold, rubies and sapphires fell from her white fingers. "take these," she said, "to thy fair lady. tell her that queen bramimonde sends them to her because of the great service thou hast done." and bowing low, she poured the sparkling jewels into ganelon's hands. thus did the heathen reward ganelon for his treachery. "ho there!" called king marsil to his treasurer, "are my gifts for the emperor ready?" "yea, sire," answered the treasurer, "seven hundred camels' load of silver and gold and twenty hostages, the noblest of the land; all are ready." then king marsil leant his hand on ganelon's shoulder. "wise art thou and brave," he said, "but in the name of all thou holdest sacred, forget not thy promise unto me. see, i give thee ten mules laden with richest treasure, and every year i will send to thee as much again. now take the keys of my city gates, take the treasure and the hostages made ready for thine emperor. give them all to him, tell him that i yield to him all that he asks, but forget not thy promise that roland shall ride in the rear-guard." impatient to be gone, ganelon shook the king's hand from his shoulder. "let me tarry no longer," he cried. then springing to horse he rode swiftly away. meanwhile charlemagne lay encamped, awaiting marsil's answer. and as one morning he sat beside his tent, with his lords and mighty men around him, a great cavalcade appeared in the distance. and presently ganelon, the traitor, drew rein before him. softly and smoothly he began his treacherous tale. "god keep you," he cried; "here i bring the keys of saragossa, with treasure rich and rare, seven hundred camels' load of silver and gold and twenty hostages of the noblest of the heathen host. and king marsil bids me say, thou shalt not blame him that his uncle the calif comes not too, for he is dead. i myself saw him as he set forth with three hundred thousand armed men upon the sea. their vessels sank ere they had gone far from the land, and he and they were swallowed in the waves." thus ganelon told his lying tale. "now praised be heaven!" cried charlemagne. "and thanks, my trusty ganelon, for well hast thou sped. at length my wars are done, and home to gentle france we ride." so the trumpets were sounded, and soon the great army, with pennons waving and armor glittering in the sunshine, was rolling onward through the land, like a gleaming mighty river. but following the christian army, through valleys deep and dark, by pathways secret and unknown, crept the heathen host. they were clad in shining steel from head to foot, swords were by their sides, lances were in their hands, and bitter hatred in their hearts. four hundred thousand strong they marched in stealthy silence. and, alas! the franks knew it not. when night came the franks encamped upon the plain. and high upon the mountain-sides, in a dark forest the heathen kept watch upon them. in the midst of his army king charlemagne lay, and as he slept he dreamed he stood alone in the valley of roncesvalles, spear in hand. there to him came ganelon, who seized his spear and broke it in pieces before his eyes, and the noise of the breaking was as the noise of thunder. in his sleep charlemagne stirred uneasily, but he did not wake. the vision passed, and again he dreamed. it seemed to him that he was now in his own city of aix. suddenly from out a forest a leopard sprang upon him. but even as its fangs closed upon his arm, a faithful hound came bounding from his hall and fell upon the savage beast with fury. fiercely the hound grappled with the leopard. snarling and growling they rolled over and over. now the hound was uppermost, now the leopard. "tis a splendid fight!" cried the franks who watched. but who should win, the emperor knew not, for the vision faded, and still he slept. the night passed and dawn came. a thousand trumpets sounded, the camp was all astir, and the franks made ready once more to march. but charlemagne was grave and thoughtful, musing on the dream that he had dreamed. "my knights and barons," he said, "mark well the country through which we pass. these valleys are steep and straight. it would go ill with us did the false saracen forget his oath, and fall upon us as we pass. to whom therefore shall i trust the rear-guard that we may march in surety?" "give the command to my stepson, roland, there is none so brave as he," said ganelon. as charlemagne listened he looked at ganelon darkly. "thou art a very demon," he said. "what rage possesseth thee? and if i give command of the rear to roland, who, then, shall lead the van?" "there is ogier the dane," said ganelon quickly, "who better?" still charlemagne looked darkly at him. he would not that roland should hear, for well he knew his adventurous spirit. but already roland had heard. "i ought to love thee well, sir stepsire," he cried, "for this day hast thou named me for honor. i will take good heed that our emperor lose not the least of his men, nor charger, palfrey, nor mule that is not paid for by stroke of sword." "that know i right well," replied ganelon, "therefore have i named thee." then to charlemagne roland turned, "give me the bow of office, sire, and let me take command," he said. but the emperor sat with bowed head. in and out of his long white beard he twisted his fingers. tears stood in his eyes, and he kept silence. such was his love for roland and fear lest evil should befall him. then spoke duke naimes, "give the command unto roland, sire; there is none better." so, silently, charlemagne held out the bow of office, and kneeling, roland took it. then was ganelon's wicked heart glad. "nephew," said charlemagne, "half my host i leave with thee." "nay, sire," answered roland proudly, "twenty thousand only shall remain with me. the rest of ye may pass onward in all surety, for while i live ye have naught to fear." then in his heart ganelon laughed. so the mighty army passed onward through the vale of roncesvalles without doubt or dread, for did not roland the brave guard the rear? with him remained oliver his friend, turpin, the bold archbishop of rheims, all the peers, and twenty thousand more of the bravest knights of france. as the great army wound along, the hearts of the men were glad. for seven long years they had been far from home, and now soon they would see their dear ones again. but the emperor rode among them sadly with bowed head. his fingers again twined themselves in his long white beard, tears once more stood in his eyes. beside him rode duke naimes. "tell me, sire," he said, "what grief oppresseth thee?" "alas," said charlemagne, "by ganelon france is betrayed. this night i dreamed i saw him break my lance in twain. and this same ganelon it is that puts my nephew in the rear-guard. and i, i have left him in a strange land. if he die, where shall i find such another?" it was in vain that duke naimes tried to comfort the emperor. he would not be comforted, and all the hearts of that great company were filled with fearful, boding dread for roland. iii roland's pride meanwhile king marsil was gathering all his host. from far and near came the heathen knights, all impatient to fight, each one eager to have the honor of slaying roland with his own hand, each swearing that none of the twelve peers should ever again see france. among them was a great champion called chernuble. he was huge and ugly and his strength was such that he could lift with ease a burden which four mules could scarcely carry. his face was inky black, his lips thick and hideous, and his coarse long hair reached the ground. it was said that in the land from whence he came, the sun never shone, the rain never fell, and the very stones were black as coal. he too, swearing that the franks should die and that france should perish, joined the heathen host. very splendid were the saracens as they moved along in the gleaming sunshine. gold and silver shone upon their armor, pennons of white and purple floated over them, and from a thousand trumpets sounded their battle-song. to the ears of the frankish knights the sound was borne as they rode through the valley of roncesvalles. "sir comrade," said oliver, "it seemeth me there is battle at hand with the saracen foe." "please heaven it may be so," said roland. "our duty is to hold this post for our emperor. let us strike mighty blows, that nothing be said or sung of us in scorn. let us fight these heathen for our country and our faith." as oliver heard the sounds of battle come nearer, he climbed to the top of the hill, so that he could see far over the country. there before him he saw the saracens marching in pride. their helmets, inlaid with gold, gleamed in the sun. gaily painted shields, hauberks of shining steel, spears and pennons waved and shone, rank upon rank in countless numbers. quickly oliver came down from the hill, and went back to the frankish army. "i have seen the heathen," he said to roland. "never on earth hath such a host been gathered. they march upon us many hundred thousand strong, with shield and spear and sword. such battle as awaiteth us have we never fought before." "let him be accursed who fleeth!" cried the franks. "there be few among us who fear death." "it is ganelon the felon, who hath betrayed us," said oliver, "let him be accursed." "hush thee, oliver," said roland; "he is my stepsire. let us hear no evil of him." "the heathen are in fearful force," said oliver, "and our franks are but few. friend roland, sound upon thy horn. then will charlemagne hear and return with all his host to help us." for round roland's neck there hung a magic horn of carved ivory. if he blew upon this in case of need, the sound of it would be carried over hill and dale, far, far onward. if he sounded it now, charlemagne would very surely hear, and return from his homeward march. but roland would not listen to oliver. "nay," he said, "i should indeed be mad to sound upon my horn. if i call for help, i, roland, i should lose my fame in all fair france. nay, i will not sound, but i shall strike such blows with my good sword durindal that the blade shall be red to the gold of the hilt. our franks, too, shall strike such blows that the heathen shall rue the day. i tell thee, they be all dead men." "oh roland, friend, wind thy horn," pleaded oliver. "to the ear of charlemagne shall the sound be borne, and he and all his knights will return to help us." "now heaven forbid that my kin should ever be pointed at in scorn because of me," said roland, "or that fair france should fall to such dishonor. no! i will not sound upon my horn, but i shall strike such blows with my sword durindal that the blade shall be dyed red in the blood of the heathen." in vain oliver implored. "i see no dishonor shouldst thou wind thy horn," he said, "for i have beheld the saracen host. the valleys and the hills and all the plains are covered with them. they are many and great, and we are but a little company." "so much the better," cried roland, "my desire to fight them grows the greater. all the angels of heaven forbid that france, through me, should lose one jot of fame. death is better than dishonor. let us strike such blows as our emperor loveth to see." roland was rash as oliver was wise, but both were knights of wondrous courage, and now oliver pleaded no more. "look," he cried, "look where the heathen come! thou hast scorned, roland, to sound thy horn, and our noble men will this day do their last deeds of bravery." "hush!" cried roland, "shame to him who weareth a coward's heart." and now archbishop turpin spurred his horse to a little hill in front of the army. "my lords and barons," he cried, turning to them, "charlemagne hath left us here to guard the homeward march of his army. he is our king, and we are bound to die for him, if so need be. but now, before ye fight, confess your sins, and pray god to forgive them. if ye die, ye die as martyrs. in god's great paradise your places await you." then the franks leapt from their horses and kneeled upon the ground while the archbishop blessed them, and absolved them from all their sins. "for penance i command that ye strike the heathen full sore," he said. then springing from their knees the franks leapt again into their saddles, ready now to fight and die. "friend," said roland, turning to oliver, "thou wert right. it is ganelon who is the traitor. but the emperor will avenge us upon him. as for marsil, he deemeth that he hath bought us, and that ganelon hath sold us unto him. but he will find it is with our swords that we will pay him." and now the battle began. "montjoie!" shouted the franks. it was the emperor's own battle-cry. it means "my joy," and came from the name of his famous sword joyeuse or joyous. this sword was the most wonderful ever seen. thirty times a day the shimmering light with which it glowed changed. in the gold of the hilt was encased the head of the spear with which the side of christ had been pierced. and because of this great honor the emperor called his sword joyeuse, and from that the franks took their battle-cry "montjoie." now shouting it, and plunging spurs into their horses' sides, they dashed upon the foe. never before had been such pride of chivalry, such splendor of knightly grace. with boasting words, king marsil's nephew came riding in front of the battle. "ho, felon franks!" he cried, "ye are met at last. betrayed and sold are ye by your king. this day hath france lost her fair fame, and from charlemagne is his right hand torn." roland heard him. with spur in side and slackened rein, he dashed upon the heathen, mad with rage. through shield and hauberk pierced his spear, and the saracen fell dead ere his scoffing words were done. "thou dastard!" cried roland, "no traitor is charlemagne, but a right noble king and cavalier." king marsil's brother, sick at heart to see his nephew fall, rode out with mocking words upon his lips. "this day is the honor of france lost," he sneered. but oliver struck his golden spurs into his steed's side! "caitiff, thy taunts are little worth," he cried, and, pierced through shield and buckler, the heathen fell. bishop turpin, too, wielded both sword and lance. "thou lying coward, be silent evermore!" he cried, as a scoffing heathen king fell beneath his blows. "charlemagne our lord is true and good, and no frank shall flee this day." "montjoie! montjoie!" sounded high above the clang of battle, as heathen after heathen was laid low. limbs were lopped, armor flew in splinters. many a heathen knight was cloven from brow to saddle bow. the plain was strewn with the dying and the dead. in roland's hand his lance was shivered to the haft. throwing the splintered wood away, he drew his famous durindal. the naked blade shone in the sun and fell upon the helmet of chernuble, marsil's mighty champion. the sparkling gems with which it shone were scattered on the grass. through cheek and chine, through flesh and bone, drove the shining steel, and chernuble fell upon the ground, a black and hideous heap. "lie there, caitiff!" cried roland, "thy mahomet cannot save thee. not unto such as thou is the victory." on through the press rode roland. durindal flashed and fell and flashed again, and many a heathen bit the dust. oliver, too, did marvelous deeds. his spear, as roland's, was shivered into atoms. but scarcely knowing what he did, he fought still with the broken shaft, and with it brought many a heathen to his death. "comrade, what dost thou?" said roland. "is it now the time to fight with staves? where is thy sword called hauteclere with its crystal pommel and golden guard?" "i lacked time in which to draw it," replied oliver, "there was such need to strike blows fast and hard." but now he drew his shining hauteclere from its scabbard, and with it he dealt such blows that roland cried, "my brother art thou, oliver, from henceforth. ah! such blows our emperor would dearly love to see." furious and more furious waxed the fight. on all sides might be heard the cry of "montjoie! montjoie!" and many a blow did frank and heathen give and take. but although thousands of saracens lay dead, the franks too had lost many of their bravest knights. shield and spear, banner and pennon, broken, bloodstained and trampled, strewed the field. fiercer, wilder still, the battle grew. roland, oliver, archbishop turpin and all the twelve peers of france fought in the thickest of the press. many of the heathen fled, but even in flight they were cut down. meanwhile over france burst a fearful storm. thunder rolled, lightning flashed, the very earth shook and trembled. there was not a town in all the land but the walls of it were cracked and riven. the sky grew black at midday, rain and hail in torrents swept the land. "it is the end of the world," the people whispered in trembling fear. alas, they knew not! it was the earth's great mourning for the death of roland, which was nigh. the battle waxed horrible. the saracens fled, and the franks pursued till of that great heathen host but one was left. of the saracen army which had set out in such splendor, four hundred thousand strong, one heathen king alone remained. and he, king margaris, sorely wounded, his spear broken, his shield pierced and battered, fled with the direful news to king marsil. the franks had won the day, and now mournfully over the plain they moved, seeking their dead and dying comrades. weary men and worn were they, sad at the death of many brother knights, yet glad at the might and victory of france. iv roland sounds his horn alone, king margaris fled, weary and wounded, until he reached king marsil, and fell panting at his feet. "ride! ride! sire," he cried, "thy army is shattered, thy knights to the last man lie dead upon the field; but thou wilt find the franks in evil plight. full half of them also lie dead. the rest are sore wounded and weary. their armor is broken, their swords and spears are shattered. they have naught wherewith to defend themselves. to avenge the death of thy knights were now easy. ride! oh, ride!" in terrible wrath and sorrow king marsil gathered a new army. in twenty columns through the valleys they came marching. the sun shone upon the gems and goldwork of their helmets, upon lances and pennons, upon buckler and embroidered surcoat. seven thousand trumpets sounded to the charge, and the wind carried the clamor afar. "oliver, my comrade," said roland, when he heard it, "oliver, my brother, the traitor ganelon hath sworn our death. here his treachery is plainly to be seen. but the emperor will bring upon him a terrible vengeance. as for us, we must fight again a battle fierce and keen. i will strike with my trusty durindal and thou with thy hauteclere bright. we have already carried them with honor in many battles. with them we have won many a victory. no man may say scorn of us." and so once again the franks made ready for battle. but king marsil was a wily foe. "hearken, my barons all," he cried, "roland is a prince of wondrous strength. two battles are not enough to vanquish him. he shall have three. half of ye shall go forward now, and half remain with me until the franks are utterly exhausted. then shall ye attack them. then shall we see the day when the might of charlemagne shall fall and france shall perish in shame." so king marsil stayed upon the hillside while half of his knights marched upon the franks with battle-cry and trumpet-call. "oh heaven, what cometh now!" cried the franks as they heard the sound. "wo, wo, that ever we saw ganelon the felon." then spoke the brave archbishop to them. "now it is certain that we shall die. but it is better to die sword in hand than in slothful ease. now is the day when ye shall receive great honor. now is the day that ye shall win your crown of flowers. the gates of paradise are glorious, but therein no coward shall enter." "we will not fail to enter," cried the franks. "it is true that we are but few, but we are bold and stanch," and striking their golden spurs into their chargers' flanks, they rode to meet the foe. once more the noise and dust of battle rose. once more the plain was strewn with dead, and the green grass was crimson-dyed, and scattered wide were jewels and gold, splintered weapons, and shattered armor. fearful was the slaughter, mighty the deeds of valor done, until at last the heathen broke and fled amain. after them in hot pursuit rode the franks. their bright swords flashed and fell again and again, and all the way was marked with dead. at length the heathen cries of despair reached even to where king marsil stayed upon the hillside. "marsil, oh our king! ride, ride, we have need of thee!" they cried. even to the king's feet the franks pursued the fleeing foe, slaying them before his face. then marsil, mounting upon his horse, led his last knights against the fearful foe. the franks were nigh exhausted, but still three hundred swords flashed in the sunlight, three hundred hearts still beat with hope and courage. as roland watched oliver ever in the thickest of the fight, dealing blow upon blow unceasingly, his heart swelled anew with love for him. "oh, my comrade leal and true," he cried, "alas! this day shall end our love. alas! this day we shall part on earth for ever." oliver heard him and through the press of fighting he urged his horse to roland's side. "friend," he said, "keep near to me. so it please god we shall at least die together." on went the fight, fiercer and fiercer yet, till but sixty weary franks were left. then, sadly gazing upon the stricken field, roland turned to oliver. "behold! our bravest lie dead," he cried. "well may france weep, for she is shorn of all her most valiant knights. oh my emperor, my friend, alas, why wert thou not here? oliver, my brother, how shall we speed him now our mournful news?" "i know not," said oliver sadly, "rather come death now than any craven deed." "i will sound upon my horn," said roland, all his pride broken and gone. "i will sound upon my horn. charlemagne will hear it and the franks will return to our aid." "shame would that be," cried oliver. "our kin would blush for us and be dishonored all their days. when i prayed of thee thou wouldst not sound thy horn, and now it is not i who will consent to it. sound upon thy horn! no! there is no courage, no wisdom in that now. had the emperor been here we had been saved. but now it is too late, for all is lost. nay," he cried in rising wrath, "if ever i see again my fair sister aude, i swear to thee thou shalt never hold her in thine arms. never shall she be bride of thine." for roland loved oliver's beautiful sister aude and was loved by her, and when roland would return to france she had promised to be his bride. "ah, oliver, why dost thou speak to me with so much anger and hate," cried roland sadly. "because it is thy fault that so many franks lie dead this day," answered oliver. "it is thy folly that hath slain them. hadst thou done as i prayed thee our master charlemagne had been here. this battle had been fought and won. marsil had been taken and slain. thy madness it is, roland, that hath wrought our fate. henceforward we can serve charlemagne never more. and now here endeth our loyal friendship. oh, bitter the parting this night shall see." with terrible grief in his heart, stricken dumb with misery and pain, roland gazed upon his friend. but archbishop turpin had heard the strife between the two, and setting spurs to his horse he rode swiftly towards them. "sir roland, and you, sir oliver," he cried, "i pray you strive not thus. see! we all must die, and thy horn, roland, can avail nothing now. great karl is too far and would return too late. yet it were well to sound it. for the emperor when he hears it will come to avenge our fall, and the heathen will not return joyously to their homes. when the franks come, they will alight from their horses, they will find our bodies, and will bury them with mourning and with tears, so we shall rest in hallowed graves, and the beasts of the field shall not tear our bones asunder." "it is well said," cried roland. then to his lips he laid his horn, and taking a deep breath he blew mightily upon it. with all the strength left in his weary body he blew. full, and clear, and high the horn sounded. from mountain peak to mountain peak the note was echoed, till to the camp of charlemagne, full thirty leagues away, it came. then as he heard it, sweet and faint, borne upon the summer wind, the emperor drew rein, and bent his ear to listen. "our men give battle; it is the horn of roland," he cried. "nay," laughed ganelon scornfully, "nay, sire, had any man but thee said it i had deemed he lied." so slowly and sad at heart, with many a backward glance, the emperor rode on. again roland put his horn to his mouth. he was weary now and faint. blood was upon his pale lips, the blue veins in his temples stood out like cords. very mournfully he blew upon his horn, but the sound of it was carried far, very far, although it was so feeble and so low. again to the soft, sweet note charlemagne bent his ear. duke naimes, too, and all the frankish knights, paused at the sound. "it is the horn of roland," cried the emperor, "and very surely had there been no battle, he had not sounded it." "there is no battle," said ganelon in fretful tones. "thou art grown old and fearful. thou talkest as a frightened child. well thou knowest the pride of roland, the strong, bold, great and boastful roland, that god hath suffered so long upon his earth. for one hare roland would sound his horn all day long. doubtless now he laughs among his peers. and besides, who would dare to attack roland? who so bold? of a truth there is none. ride on, sire, ride on. why halt? our fair land is still very far in front." so again, yet more unwillingly, the emperor rode on. crimson-stained were the lips of roland. his cheeks were sunken and white, yet once again he raised his horn. faintly now, in sadness and in anguish, once again he blew. the soft, sweet notes took on a tone so pitiful, they wrung the very heart of charlemagne, where, full thirty leagues afar, he onward rode. "that horn is very long of breath," he sighed, looking backward anxiously. "it is roland," cried duke naimes. "it is roland who suffers yonder. on my soul, i swear, there is battle. some one hath betrayed him. if i mistake not, it is he who now deceives thee. arm, sire, arm! sound the trumpets of war. long enough hast thou hearkened to the plaint of roland." quickly the emperor gave command. quickly the army turned about, and came marching backward. the evening sunshine fell upon their pennons of crimson, gold and blue, it gleamed upon helmet and corslet, upon lance and shield. fiercely rode the knights. "oh, if we but reach roland before he die," they cried, "oh, what blows we will strike for him." alas! alas! they are late, too late! the evening darkened, night came, yet on they rode. through all the night they rode, and when at length the rising sun gleamed like flame upon helmet, and hauberk and flowing pennon, they still pressed onward. foremost the emperor rode, sunk in sad thought, his fingers twisted in his long white beard which flowed over his cuirass, his eyes filled with tears. behind him galloped his knights--strong men though they were, every one of them with a sob in his throat, a prayer in his heart, for roland, roland the brave and fearless. one knight only had anger in his heart. that knight was ganelon. and he by order of the emperor had been given over to the keeping of the kitchen knaves. calling the chief among them, "guard me well this felon," said charlemagne, "guard him as a traitor, who hath sold all mine house to death." then the chief scullion and a hundred of his fellows surrounded ganelon. they plucked him by the hair and buffeted him, each man giving him four sounding blows. around his neck they then fastened a heavy chain, and leading him as one might lead a dancing bear, they set him upon a common baggage-horse. thus they kept him until the time should come that charlemagne would ask again for the felon knight. v the return of charlemagne roland was dead and bright angels had already carried his soul to heaven, when charlemagne and all his host at last rode into the valley of roncesvalles. what a dreadful sight was there! not a path nor track, not a yard nor foot of ground but was covered with slain franks and heathen lying side by side in death. charlemagne gazed upon the scene with grief and horror. "where art thou, roland?" he called. "the archbishop, where is he? oliver, where art thou?" all the twelve peers he called by name. but none answered. the wind moaned over the field, fluttering here and there a fallen banner, but voice to answer there was none. "alas," sighed charlemagne, "what sorrow is mine that i was not here ere this battle was fought!" in and out of his long white beard his fingers twisted, and tears of grief and anger stood in his eyes. behind him, rank upon rank, crowded his knights and barons full of wrath and sorrow. not one among them but had lost a son or brother, a friend or comrade. for a time they stood dumb with grief and horror. then spoke duke naimes. wise in counsel, brave in battle was he. "look, sire," he cried, "look where two leagues from us the dust arises upon the great highway. there is gathered the army of the heathen. ride, sire, ride and avenge our wrongs." and so it was, for those who had fled from the battle-field were gathered together and were now crowding onward to saragossa. "alas!" said charlemagne, "they are already far away. yet they have taken from me the very flower of france, so for the sake of right and honor i will do as thou desirest." then the emperor called to him four of his chief barons. "rest here," he said, "guard the field, the valleys and the hills. leave the dead lying as they are, but watch well that neither lion nor any other savage beast come nigh to them. neither shall any servant or squire touch them. i forbid ye to let man lay hand upon them till we return." "sire we will do thy will," answered the four. then, leaving a thousand knights to be with them, charlemagne sounded his war trumpets, and the army set forth upon the pursuit of the heathen. furiously they rode and fast, but already the foe was far. anxiously the emperor looked to the sun as it slowly went down toward the west. night was at hand and the enemy still afar. then, alighting from his horse, charlemagne kneeled upon the green grass. "oh lord, i pray thee," he cried, "make the sun to stop. say thou to the night, 'wait.' say thou to the day, 'remain.'" and as the emperor prayed, his guardian angel stooped down and whispered to him, "ride onward, charlemagne! light shall not fail thee. thou hast lost the flower of france. the lord knoweth it right well. but thou canst now avenge thee upon the wicked. ride!" hearing these words, charlemagne sprang once more to horse and rode onward. and truly a miracle was done for him. the sun stood motionless in the sky, the heathen fled, the franks pursued, until in the valley of darkness they fell upon them and beat them with great slaughter. the heathen still fled, but the franks surrounded them, closing every path, and in front flowed the river ebro wide and deep. across it there was no bridge, upon it no boat, no barge. calling upon their gods tervagan and apollin and upon mahomet to save them, the heathen threw themselves into the water. but there no safety they found. many, weighted with their heavy armor, sank beneath the waves. others, carried by the tide, were swept away, and all were drowned, king marsil alone fleeing towards saragossa. when charlemagne saw that all his enemies were slain, he leapt from his horse, and, kneeling upon the ground, gave thanks to heaven. and even as he rose from his knees the sun went down and all the land was dim in twilight. "now is the hour of rest," said the emperor. "it is too late to return to roncesvalles, for our steeds are weary and exhausted. take off their saddles and their bridles, and let them refresh themselves upon the field." "sire, it is well said," replied the franks. so the knights, leaping from their horses, took saddle and bridle from them, and let them wander free upon the green meadows by the river-side. then, being very weary, the franks lay down upon the grass, all dressed as they were in their armor, and with their swords girded to their sides, and slept. so worn were they with battle and with grief, that none that night kept watch, but all alike slept. the emperor too slept upon the ground among his knights and barons. like them he lay in his armor. and his good sword joyeuse was girt about him. the night was clear and the moon shone brightly. and charlemagne, lying on the grass, thought bitterly of roland and of oliver, and of all the twelve peers of france who lay dead upon the field of roncesvalles. but at last, overcome with grief and weariness, he fell asleep. as the emperor slept, he dreamed. he thought he saw the sky grow black with thunder-clouds, then jagged lightning flashed and flamed, hail fell and wild winds howled. such a storm the earth had never seen, and suddenly in all its fury it burst upon his army. their lances were wrapped in flame, their shields of gold were melted, hauberks and helmets were crushed to pieces. then bears and wolves from out the forests sprang upon the dismayed knights, devouring them. monsters untold, serpents, fiery fiends, and more than thirty thousand griffins, all rushed upon the franks with greedy, gaping jaws. "arm! arm! sire," they cried to him. and charlemagne, in his dream, struggled to reach his knights. but something, he knew not what, held him bound and helpless. then from out the depths of the forest a lion rushed upon him. it was a fierce, terrible, and proud beast. it seized upon the emperor, and together they struggled, he fighting with his naked hands. who would win, who would be beaten, none knew, for the dream passed and the emperor still slept. again charlemagne dreamed. he stood, he thought, upon the marble steps of his great palace of aix holding a bear by a double chain. suddenly out of the forest there came thirty other bears to the foot of the steps where charlemagne stood. they all had tongues and spoke like men. "give him back to us, sire," they said, "he is our kinsman, and we must help him. it is not right that thou shouldest keep him so long from us." then from out the palace there came a hound. bounding among the savage beasts he threw himself upon the largest of them. over and over upon the grass they rolled, fighting terribly. who would be the victor, who the vanquished? charlemagne could not tell. the vision passed, and he slept till daybreak. as the first dim light of dawn crept across the sky, charlemagne awoke. soon all the camp was astir, and before the sun rose high the knights were riding back over the wide roads to roncesvalles. when once again they reached the dreadful field, charlemagne wandered over all the plain until he came where roland lay. then taking him in his arms he made great moan. "my friend, my roland, who shall now lead my army? my nephew, beautiful and brave, my pride, my glory, all are gone. alas the day! alas!" thus with tears and cries he mourned his loss. then said one, "sire, grieve not overmuch. command rather that we search the plain and gather together all our men who have been slain by the heathen. then let us bury them with chant, and song and solemn ceremony, as befits such heroes." "yea," said charlemagne, "it is well said. sound your trumpets!" so the trumpets were sounded, and over all the field the franks searched, gathering their slain brothers and comrades. with the army there were many bishops, abbots and monks, and so with chant and hymn, with prayer and incense, the franks were laid to rest. with great honor they were buried. then, for they could do no more, their comrades left them. only the bodies of roland, oliver and archbishop turpin, they did not lay in spanish ground. in three white marble coffins covered with silken cloths they were placed on chariots, ready to be carried back to the fair land of france. hero of spain the cid adapted by robert southey i rodrigo and the leper rodrigo forthwith set out upon the road, and took with him twenty knights. and as he went he did great good, and gave alms, feeding the poor and needy. and upon the way they found a leper, struggling in a quagmire, who cried out to them with a loud voice to help him for the love of god; and when rodrigo heard this, he alighted from his beast and helped him, and placed him upon the beast before him, and carried him with him in this manner to the inn where he took up his lodging that night. at this were his knights little pleased. when supper was ready he bade his knights take their seats, and he took the leper by the hand, and seated him next himself, and ate with him out of the same dish. the knights were greatly offended at this foul sight, insomuch that they rose up and left the chamber. but rodrigo ordered a bed to be made ready for himself and for the leper, and they twain slept together. when it was midnight and rodrigo was fast asleep, the leper breathed against him between his shoulders, and that breath was so strong that it passed through him, even through his breast; and he awoke, being astounded, and felt for the leper by him, and found him not; and he began to call him, but there was no reply. then he arose in fear, and called for a light, and it was brought him; and he looked for the leper and could see nothing; so he returned into the bed, leaving the light burning. and he began to think within himself what had happened, and of that breath which had passed through him, and how the leper was not there. after a while, as he was thus musing, there appeared before him one in white garments, who said unto him, "sleepest thou or wakest thou, rodrigo?" and he answered and said, "i do not sleep: but who art thou that bringest with thee such brightness and so sweet an odor?" said he, "i am saint lazarus, and know that i was a leper to whom thou didst so much good and so great honor for the love of god; and because thou didst this for his sake hath god now granted thee a great gift; for whensoever that breath which thou hast felt shall come upon thee, whatever thing thou desirest to do, and shalt then begin, that shalt thou accomplish to thy heart's desire, whether it be in battle or aught else, so that thy honor shall go on increasing from day to day; and thou shalt be feared both by moors and christians, and thy enemies shall never prevail against thee, and thou shalt die an honorable death in thine own house, and in thy renown, for god hath blessed thee therefore go thou on, and evermore persevere in doing good;" and with that he disappeared. and rodrigo arose and prayed to our lady and intercessor st. mary, that she would pray to her blessed son for him to watch over his body and soul in all his undertakings; and he continued in prayer till the day broke. then he proceeded on his way, and performed his pilgrimage, doing much good for the love of god and of st. mary. ii the knighting of rodrigo now it came to pass that while the king lay before coimbra, there came a pilgrim from the land of greece on pilgrimage to santiago; his name was estiano, and he was a bishop. and as he was praying in the church he heard certain of the townsmen and of the pilgrims saying that santiago was wont to appear in battle like a knight, in aid of the christians. and when he heard this, it nothing pleased him, and he said unto them, "friends, call him not a knight, but rather a fisherman." upon this it pleased god that he should fall asleep, and in his sleep santiago appeared to him with a good and cheerful countenance, holding in his hand a bunch of keys, and said unto him, "thou thinkest it a fable that they should call me a knight, and sayest that i am not so: for this reason am i come unto thee that thou never more mayest doubt concerning my knighthood; for a knight of jesus christ i am, and a helper of the christians against the moors." then a horse was brought him the which was exceeding white, and the apostle santiago mounted upon it, being well clad in bright and fair armor, after the manner of a knight. and he said to estiano, "i go to help king don ferrando, who has lain these seven months before coimbra, and to-morrow, with these keys which thou seest, will i open the gates of the city unto him at the third hour, and deliver it into his hand." having said this, he departed. and the bishop, when he woke in the morning, called together the clergy and people of compostella, and told them what he had seen and heard. and as he said, even so did it come to pass; for tidings came, that on that day, and at the third hour, the gates of the city had been opened. king don ferrando then assembled his counts and chief captains, and told them all that the monks of lorvam had done, in bringing him to besiege the city, and in supplying his army in their time of need: and the counts and chief captains made answer and said, "certes, o king, if the monks had not given us the stores of their monastery, thou couldest not have taken the city at this time." the king then called for the abbot and the brethren, for they were with him in the host, and said the hours to him daily, and mass in st. andre's, and buried there and in their monastery as many as had died during the siege, either of arrow-wounds or by lances, or of their own infirmities. so they came before him and gave him joy of his conquest; and he said unto them, "take ye now of this city as much as ye desire, since by god's favor and your counsel i have won it." but they made answer, "thanks be to god and to you, and to your forefathers, we have enough and shall have, if so be that we have your favor and dwell among christians. only for the love of god, and for the remedy of your own soul, give us one church with its dwelling-houses within the city, and confirm unto us the gifts made to us in old times by your forefathers." with that the king turned to his sons and his soldiers, and said, "of a truth, by our creator, they who desire so little are men of god. i would have given them half the city, and they will have only a single church! now therefore, since they require but this, on the part of god almighty let us grant and confirm unto them what they ask, to the honor of god and st. mamede." and the brethren brought him their charters of king ramiro, and king bermudo, and king alfonso, and of gonzalo moniz, who was a knight and married a daughter of king bermudo, and of other good men. and the king confirmed them, and he bade them make a writing of all which had passed between him and them at the siege of coimbra; and when they brought him the writing, they brought him also a crown of silver and of gold, which had been king bermudo's, and which gonzalo moniz had given to the monastery in honor of god and st. mamede. the king saw the crown, set with precious stones, and said, "to what end bring ye hither this crown?" and they said, "that you should take it, sire, in return for the good which you have done us." but he answered, "far be it from me that i should take from your monastery what the good men before me have given to it! take ye back the crown, and take also ten marks of silver, and make with the money a good cross, to remain with you forever. and he who shall befriend you, may god befriend him; but he who shall disturb you or your monastery, may he be cursed by the living god and by his saints." so the king signed the writing which he had commanded to be made, and his sons and chief captains signed it also, and in the writing he enjoined his children and his children's children, as many as should come after him, to honor and protect the monastery of lorvam; upon his blessing he charged them so to do, because he had found the brethren better than all the other monks in his dominions. then king don ferrando knighted rodrigo of bivar in the great mosque of coimbra, which he dedicated to st. mary. and the ceremony was after this manner: the king girded on his sword, and gave him the kiss, but not the blow. to do him honor the queen gave him his horse, and the infanta dona urraca fastened on his spurs; and from that day forth he was called ruydiez. then the king commanded him to knight nine noble squires with his own hand; and he took his sword before the altar, and knighted them. the king then gave coimbra to the keeping of don sisnando, bishop of iria; a man who, having more hardihood than religion, had by reason of his misdeeds gone over to the moors, and sorely infested the christians in portugal. but during the siege he had come to the king's service, and bestirred himself well against the moors; and therefore the king took him into his favor, and gave him the city to keep, which he kept, and did much evil to the moors till the day of his death. and the king departed and went to compostella, to return thanks to santiago. but then benalfagi, who was the lord of many lands in estremadura, gathered together a great power of the moors and built up the walls of montemor, and from thence waged war against coimbra, so that they of coimbra called upon the king for help. and the king came up against the town, and fought against it, and took it. great honor did ruydiez win at that siege; for having to protect the foragers, the enemy came out upon him, and thrice in one day was he beset by them; but he, though sorely pressed by them, and in great peril, nevertheless would not send to the camp for succor, but put forth his manhood and defeated them. and from that day che king gave more power into his hands, and made him head over all his household. now the men of leon besought the king that he should repeople zamora, which had lain desolate since it was destroyed by almanzor. and he went thither and peopled the city, and gave to it good privileges. and while he was there came messengers from the five kings who were vassals to ruydiez of bivar, bringing him their tribute; and they came to him, he being with the king, and called him cid, which signifieth lord, and would have kissed his hands, but he would not give them his hand till they had kissed the hand of the king. and ruydiez took the tribute and offered the fifth thereof to the king, in token of his sovereignty; and the king thanked him, but would not receive it; and from that time he ordered that ruydiez should be called the cid, because the moors had so called him. iii how the cid made a coward into a brave man at this time martin pelaez the asturian came with a convoy of laden beasts, carrying provisions to the host of the cid; and as he passed near the town the moors sallied out in great numbers against him; but he, though he had few with him, defended the convoy right well, and did great hurt to the moors, slaying many of them, and drove them into the town. this martin pelaez who is here spoken of, did the cid make a right good knight, of a coward, as ye shall hear. when the cid first began to lay seige to the city of valencia, this martin pelaez came unto him; he was a knight, a native of santillana in asturias, a hidalgo, great of body and strong of limb, a well-made man and of goodly semblance, but withal a right coward at heart, which he had shown in many places when he was among feats of arms. and the cid was sorry when he came unto him, though he would not let him perceive this; for he knew he was not fit to be of his company. howbeit he thought that since he was come, he would make him brave, whether he would or not. when the cid began to war upon the town, and sent parties against it twice and thrice a day, for the cid was alway upon the alert, there was fighting and tourneying every day. one day it fell out that the cid and his kinsmen and friends and vassals were engaged in a great encounter, and this martin pelaez was well armed; and when he saw that the moors and christians were at it, he fled and betook himself to his lodging, and there hid himself till the cid returned to dinner. and the cid saw what martin pelaez did, and when he had conquered the moors he returned to his lodging to dinner. now it was the custom of the cid to eat at a high table, seated on his bench, at the head. and don alvar fañez, and pero bermudez, and other precious knights, ate in another part, at high tables, full honorably, and none other knights whatsoever dared take their seats with them, unless they were such as deserved to be there; and the others who were not so approved in arms ate upon _estrados_, at tables with cushions. this was the order in the house of the cid, and every one knew the place where he was to sit at meat, and every one strove all he could to gain the honor of sitting at the table of don alvar fañez and his companions, by strenuously behaving himself in all feats of arms; and thus the honor of the cid was advanced. martin pelaez, thinking none had seen his badness, washed his hands in turn with the other knights, and would have taken his place among them. and the cid went unto him, and took him by the hand and said, "you are not such a one as deserves to sit with these, for they are worth more than you or than me; but i will have you with me:" and he seated him with himself at table. and he, for lack of understanding, thought that the cid did this to honor him above all the others. on the morrow the cid and his company rode towards valencia, and the moors came out to the tourney; and martin pelaez went out well armed, and was among the foremost who charged the moors, and when he was in among them he turned the reins, and went back to his lodging; and the cid took heed to all that he did, and saw that though he had done badly he had done better than the first day. and when the cid had driven the moors into the town he returned to his lodging, and as he sat down to meat he took this martin pelaez by the hand, and seated him with himself, and bade him eat with him in the same dish, for he had deserved more that day than he had the first. and the knight gave heed to that saying, and was abashed; howbeit he did as the cid commanded him: and after he had dined he went to his lodging and began to think upon what the cid had said unto him, and perceived that he had seen all the baseness which he had done; and then he understood that for this cause he would not let him sit at board with the other knights who were precious in arms, but had seated him with himself, more to affront him than to do him honor, for there were other knights there better than he, and he did not show them that honor. then resolved he in his heart to do better than he had done heretofore. another day it happened that the cid and his company, along with martin pelaez, rode toward valencia, and the moors came out to the tourney full resolutely, and martin pelaez was among the first, and charged them right boldly; and he smote down and slew presently a good knight, and he lost there all the bad fear which he had had, and was that day one of the best knights there: and as long as the tourney lasted there he remained, smiting and slaying and overthrowing the moors, till they were driven within the gates, in such manner that the moors marveled at him, and asked where that devil came from, for they had never seen him before. and the cid was in a place where he could see all that was going on, and he gave good heed to him, and had great pleasure in beholding him, to see how well he had forgotten the great fear which he was wont to have. and when the moors were shut up within the town, the cid and all his people returned to their lodging, and martin pelaez full leisurely and quietly went to his lodging also, like a good knight. and when it was the hour of eating, the cid waited for martin pelaez; and when he came, and they had washed, the cid took him by the hand and said, "my friend, you are not such a one as deserves to sit with me from henceforth; but sit you here with don alvar fañez, and with these other good knights, for the good feats which you have done this day have made you a companion for them;" and from that day forward he was placed in the company of the good. the history saith that from that day forward this knight martin pelaez was a right good one, and a right valiant, and a right precious, in all places where he chanced among feats of arms, and he lived alway with the cid, and served him right well and truly. and the history saith, that after the cid had won the city of valencia, on the day when they conquered and discomfited the king of seville, this martin pelaez was so good a one, that setting aside the body of the cid himself, there was no such good knight there, nor one who bore such part, as well in the battle as in the pursuit. and so great was the mortality which he made among the moors that day, that when he returned from the business the sleeves of his mail were clotted with blood, up to the elbow; insomuch that for what he did that day his name is written in this history, that it may never die. and when the cid saw him come in that guise, he did him great honor, such as he never had done to any knight before that day, and from thenceforward gave him a place in all his actions and in all his secrets, and he was his great friend. in this knight martin pelaez was fulfilled the example which saith, that he who betaketh himself to a good tree, hath good shade, and he who serves a good lord winneth good guerdon; for by reason of the good service which he did the cid, he came to such good state that he was spoken of as ye have heard: for the cid knew how to make a good knight, as a good groom knows how to make a good horse. iv how the cid ruled valencia on the following day after the christians had taken possession of the town, the cid entered it with a great company, and he ascended the highest tower of the wall and beheld all the city; and the moors came unto him, and kissed his hand, saying he was welcome. and the cid did great honor unto them. and then he gave order that all the windows of the towers which looked in upon the town should be closed up, that the christians might not see what the moors did in their houses; and the moors thanked him for this greatly. and he commanded and requested the christians that they should show great honor to the moors, and respect them, and greet them when they met: and the moors thanked the cid greatly for the honor which the christians did them, saying that they had never seen so good a man, nor one so honorable, nor one who had his people under such obedience. now abeniaf thought to have the love of the cid; and calling to mind the wrath with which he had formerly been received, because he had not taken a gift with him, he took now great riches which he had taken from those who sold bread for so great a price during the siege of valencia, and this he carried to the cid as a present. among those who had sold it were some men from the islands of majorca, and he took from them all that they had. this the cid knew, and he would not accept his gifts. and the cid caused proclamation to be made in the town and throughout the whole district thereof, that the honorable men and knights and castellans should assemble together in the garden of villa nueva, where the cid at that time sojourned. and when they were all assembled, he went out unto them, to a place which was made ready with carpets and with mats, and he made them take their seats before him full honorable, and began to speak unto them, saying: "i am a man who have never possessed a kingdom, neither i nor any man of my lineage. but the day when i first beheld this city i was well pleased therewith, and coveted it that i might be its lord; and i besought the lord our god that he would give it me. see now what his power is, for the day when i sat down before juballa i had no more than four loaves of bread, and now by god's mercy i have won valencia. "if i administer right and justice here, god will let me enjoy it; if i do evil, and demean myself proudly and wrongfully, i know that he will take it away. now then, let every one go to his own lands, and possess them even as he was wont to have and to hold them. he who shall find his field, or his vineyard, or his garden, desert, let him incontinently enter thereon; and he who shall find his husbanded, let him pay him that hath cultivated it the cost of his labor, and of the seed which he hath sown therein, and remain with his heritage, according to the law of the moors. moreover, i have given order that they who collect my dues take from you no more than the tenth, because so it is appointed by the custom of the moors, and it is what ye have been wont to pay. and i have resolved in my heart to hear your complaints two days in the week, on the monday and the thursday; but if causes should arise which require haste, come to me when ye will and i will give judgment, for i do not retire with women to sing and to drink, as your lords have done, so that ye could obtain no justice, but will myself see to these things, and watch over ye as friend over his friend, and kinsman over his kinsman. and i will be cadi and guazil, and when dispute happens among ye i will decide it." when he had said these things, they all replied that they prayed god to preserve him through long and happy years; and four of the most honorable among them arose and kissed his hands, and the cid bade them take their seats again. then the cid spake unto them and said: "it is told me that abeniaf hath done much evil, and committed great wrong toward some of ye, in that he hath taken great riches from ye to present them to me, saying, that this he did because ye sold food for a great price during the siege. but i will accept no such gift; for if i were minded to have your riches, i could take them, and need not ask them neither from him, nor from any other; but thing so unseemly as to take that which is his from any one, without just cause, i will not do. they who have gotten wealth thus, god hath given it them; let them go to abeniaf, and take back what he hath forced from them, for i will order him to restore the whole." then he said, "ye see the riches which i took from the messengers who went to murcia; it is mine by right, for i took it in war because they brake the covenant which they had made, and would have deceived me: nevertheless i will restore it to the uttermost centesimo, that nothing thereof shall be lost. and ye shall do homage to me that ye will not withdraw yourselves, but will abide here, and do my bidding in all things, and never depart from the covenant which ye make with me; for i love ye, and am grieved to think of the great evil and misery which ye endured from the great famine, and of the mortality which there was. and if ye had done that before which ye have done now, ye would not have been brought to these sufferings and have bought the _cafiz_ of wheat at a thousand _maravedis_; but i trust in god to bring it to one _maravedi_. be ye now secure in your lands, and till your fields, and rear cattle; for i have given order to my men that they offer ye no wrong, neither enter into the town to buy nor to sell; but that they carry on all their dealings in alcudia, and this i do that ye may receive no displeasure. moreover i command them not to take any captive into the town, but if this should be done, lay ye hands on the captive and set him free, without fear, and if any one should resist, kill him and fear not. i myself will not enter your city nor dwell therein, but i will build me a place beside the bridge of alcantara, where i may go and disport myself at times, and repair when it is needful." when he had said these things he bade them go their way. well pleased were the moors when they departed from him, and they marveled at the greatness of his promises, and they set their hearts at rest, and put away the fear which they had had, thinking all their troubles were over; for in all the promises which the cid had made unto them, they believed that he spake truth; but he said these things only to quiet them, and to make them come to what he wished, even as came to pass. and when he had done, he sent his almoxarife, abdalla adiz, to the custom-house, and made him appoint men to collect the rents of the town for him, which was done accordingly. and when the cid had given order concerning his own affairs at his pleasure, the moors would fain have entered again into possession of their heritages as he told them; but they found it all otherwise, for of all the fields which the christians had husbanded, they would not yield up one; albeit they let them enter upon such as were left waste: some said that the cid had given them the lands that year, instead of their pay, and other some that they rented them and had paid rent for the year. the moors waited till thursday, when the cid was to hear complaints, as he had said unto them. when thursday came all the honorable men went to the garden, but the cid sent to say unto them that he could not come out that day, because of other causes which he had to determine; and he desired that they would go their way for that time, and come again on the monday: this was to show his mastery. and when it was monday they assembled again in the garden, and the cid came out to them, and took his seat upon the _estrado_, and the moors made their complaint. and when he had heard them he began to make similitudes, and offer reasons which were not like those which he had spoken the first day; for he said to them, "i ask of ye, whether it is well that i should be left without men? or if i were without them, i should be like unto one who hath lost his right arm, or to a bird that hath no wings, or to one who should do battle and hath neither spear nor sword. the first thing which i have to look to is to the well-being of my people, that they may live in wealth and honor, so that they may be able to serve me, and defend my honor: for since it has pleased god to give me the city of valencia, i will not that there be any other lord here than me. therefore i say unto you and command you, if you would be well with me, and would that i should show favor unto you, that ye see how to deliver that traitor abeniaf into my hands. ye all know the great treason which he committed upon king yahia, his lord and yours, how he slew him, and the misery which he brought upon you in the siege; and since it is not fitting that a traitor who hath slain his lord should live among you, and that his treason should be confounded with your loyalty, see to the obeyment of my command." when the honorable moors heard this, they were dismayed; verily they knew that he spake truth touching the death of the king, but it troubled them that he departed form the promise which he had made; and they made answer that they would take counsel concerning what he had said, and then reply. then five of the best and most honorable among them withdrew, and went to abdalla adiz, and said unto him, "give us thy counsel now the best and truest that thou canst, for thou art of our law, and oughtest to do this: and the reason why we ask counsel of thee is this. the cid promised us many things, and now behold he says nothing to us of what he said before, but moveth other new reasons, at which great dismay hath seized us. and because thou better knowest his ways, tell us now what is his pleasure, for albeit we might wish to do otherwise, this is not a time wherein anything but what he shall command can be done." when the almoxarife heard this he made answer, "good men, it is easy to understand what he would have, and to do what should be done. we all know the great treason which abeniaf committed against ye all in killing your lord the king; for albeit at that time ye felt the burden of the christians, yet was it nothing so great as after he had killed him, neither did ye suffer such misery. and since god hath brought him who was the cause to this state, see now by all means how ye may deliver him into the hands of the cid; and fear not, neither take thought for the rest; for though the cid may do his pleasure in some things, better is it to have him for lord than this traitor who hath brought so much evil upon ye. moreover the things of this world soon pass away, and my heart tells me that we shall ere long come out of the bondage of the cid, and of the christians; for the cid is well-nigh at the full of his days, and we who remain alive after his death shall then be masters of our city." the good men thanked him much, and held themselves to be well advised, and said that they would do willingly what he bade them; and they returned forthwith to the cid, and said unto him that they would fulfill his commandment. incontinently did the good men dispeed themselves of the cid, and they went into the city, and gathered together a great posse of armed men, and went to the place where abeniaf dwelt; and they assaulted the house and brake the doors, and entered in and laid hands on him, and his son, and all his company, and carried them before the cid. and the cid ordered abeniaf to be cast into prison, and all those who had taken counsel with him for the death of king yahia. when this was done, the cid said unto the good men, "now that ye have fulfilled my bidding, i hold it good to show favor unto you in that which ye yourselves shall understand to be fitting for me to grant. say therefore what ye would have, and i will do that which i think behooveth me: but in this manner, that my dwelling-place be within the city of valencia, in the alcazar, and that my christian men have all the fortresses in the city." and when the good men heard this, they were greatly troubled; howbeit they dissembled the sorrow which they resented, and said unto him, "sir cid, order it as you think good, and we consent thereto." then said he unto them that he would observe towards them all the uses and customs of their law, and that he would have the power, and be lord of all; and they should till their fields and feed their flocks and herds, and give him his tenth, and he would take no more. when the moors heard this they were pleased; and since they were to remain in the town, and in their houses and their inheritances, and with their uses and customs, and that their mosques were to be left them, they held themselves not to be badly off. then they asked the cid to let their guazil be the same as he had first appointed, and that he would give them for their cadi the alfaqui alhagi, and let him appoint whom he would to assist him in distributing justice to the moors; and thus he himself would be relieved of the wearisomeness of hearing them, save only when any great occasion might befall. and the cid granted this which they required, and they kissed his hand, and returned into the town. nine months did the cid hold valencia besieged, and at the end of that time it fell into his power, and he obtained possession of the walls, as ye have heard. and one month he was practising with the moors that he might keep them quiet, till abeniaf was delivered into his hands; and thus ten months were fulfilled, and they were fulfilled on thursday, the last day of june, in the year of the era one thousand one hundred and thirty and one, which was in the year one thousand ninety and three of the incarnation of our lord jesus christ. and when the cid had finished all his dealings with the moors, on this day he took horse with all his company in good array, his banner being carried before him, and his arms behind; and in this guise, with great rejoicings he entered the city of valencia. and he alighted at the alcazar, and gave order to lodge all his men round about it; and he bade them plant his banner upon the highest tower of the alcazar. glad was the campeador, and all they who were with him, when they saw his banner planted in that place. and from that day forth was the cid possessed of all the castles and fortresses which were in the kingdom of valencia, and established in what god had given him, and he and all his people rejoiced. v the cid's last victory three days after the cid had died king bucar came into the port of valencia, and landed with all his power, which was so great that there is not a man in the world who could give account of the moors whom he brought. and there came with him thirty and six kings, and one moorish queen, who was a negress, and she brought with her two hundred horsewomen, all negresses like herself, all having their hair shorn save a tuft on the top, and this was in token that they came as if upon a pilgrimage, and to obtain the remission of their sins; and they were all armed in coats of mail and with turkish bows. king bucar ordered his tents to be pitched round about valencia, and abenalfarax, who wrote this history in arabic, saith that there were full fifteen thousand tents; and he bade that moorish negress with her archers to take their station near the city. and on the morrow they began to attack the city, and they fought against it three days strenuously; and the moors received great loss, for they came blindly up to the walls and were slain there. and the christians defended themselves right well; and every time that they went upon the walls, they sounded trumpets and tambours, and made great rejoicings, as the cid had commanded. this continued for eight days or nine, till the companions of the cid had made ready everything for their departure, as he had commanded. and king bucar and his people thought that the cid dared not come out against them; and they were the more encouraged, and began to think of making bastiles and engines wherewith to combat the city, for certes they weened that the cid ruydiez dared not come out against them, seeing that he tarried so long. all this while the company of the cid were preparing all things to go into castile, as he had commanded before his death; and his trusty gil diaz did nothing else but labor at this. and the body of the cid was thus prepared: first it was embalmed and anointed, and the virtue of the balsam and myrrh was such that the flesh remained firm and fair, having its natural color, and his countenance as it was wont to be, and the eyes open, and his long beard in order, so that there was not a man who would have thought him dead if he had seen him and not known it. and on the second day after he had departed, gil diaz placed the body upon a right noble saddle, and this saddle with the body upon it he put upon a frame; and he dressed the body in a _gambax_ of fine sendal, next the skin. and he took two boards and fitted them to the body, one to the breast and the other to the shoulders; these were so hollowed out and fitted that they met at the sides and under the arms, and the hind one came up to the pole, and the other up to the beard. these boards were fastened into the saddle, so that the body could not move. all this was done by the morning of the twelfth day; and all that day the people of the cid were busied in making ready their arms, and in loading beasts with all that they had, so that they left nothing of any price in the whole city of valencia, save only the empty houses. when it was midnight they took the body of the cid, fastened to the saddle as it was, and placed it upon his horse bavieca, and fastened the saddle well; and the body sat so upright and well that it seemed as if he was alive. and it had on painted hose of black and white, so cunningly painted that no man who saw them would have thought but that they were greaves and cuishes, unless he had laid his hand upon them; and they put on it a surcoat of green sendal, having his arms blazoned thereon, and a helmet of parchment, which was cunningly painted that every one might have believed it to be iron; and his shield was hung round his neck, and they placed the sword tizona in his hand, and they raised his arm, and fastened it up so subtilely that it was a marvel to see how upright he held the sword. and the bishop don hieronymo went on one side of him, and the trusty gil diaz on the other, and he led the horse bavieca, as the cid had commanded him. and when all this had been made ready, they went out from valencia at midnight, through the gate of roseros, which is towards castile. pero bermudez went first with the banner of the cid, and with him five hundred knights who guarded it, all well appointed. and after these came all the baggage. then came the body of the cid, with an hundred knights, all chosen men, and behind them dona ximena with all her company, and six hundred knights in the rear. all these went out so silently, and with such a measured pace, that it seemed as if there were only a score. and by the time that they had all gone out it was broad day. now alvar fañez minaya had set the host in order, and while the bishop don hieronymo and gil diaz led away the body of the cid, and dona ximena, and the baggage, he fell upon the moors. first he attacked the tents of that moorish queen the negress, who lay nearest to the city; and this onset was so sudden, that they killed full a hundred and fifty moors before they had time to take arms or go to horse. but that moorish negress was so skilful in drawing the turkish bow, that it was held for a marvel; and it is said that they called her in arabic _nugueymat turya_, which is to say, the star of the archers. and she was the first that got on horseback, and with some fifty that were with her, did some hurt to the company of the cid; but in fine they slew her, and her people fled to the camp. and so great was the uproar and confusion, that few there were who took arms, but instead thereof they turned their backs and fled toward the sea. and when king bucar and his kings saw this, they were astonished. and it seemed to them that there came against them on the part of the christians full seventy thousand knights, all as white as snow: and before them a knight of great stature upon a white horse with a bloody cross, who bore in one hand a white banner, and in the other a sword which seemed to be of fire, and he made a great mortality among the moors who were flying. and king bucar and the other kings were so greatly dismayed that they never checked the reins till they had ridden into the sea; and the company of the cid rode after them, smiting and slaying and giving them no respite; and they smote down so many that it was marvelous, for the moors did not turn their heads to defend themselves. and when they came to the sea, so great was the press among them to get to the ships, that more than ten thousand died in the water. and of the six and thirty kings, twenty and two were slain. and king bucar and they who escaped with him hoisted sails and went their way, and never more turned their heads. alvar fañez and his people, when they had discomfited the moors, spoiled the field, and the spoil thereof was so great that they could not carry it away. and they loaded camels and horses with the noblest things which they found, and went after the bishop don hieronymo and gil diaz, who, with the body of the cid, and doña ximena, and the baggage, had gone on till they were clear of the host, and then waited for those who were gone against the moors. and so great was the spoil of that day, that there was no end to it: and they took up gold, and silver, and other precious things as they rode through the camp, so that the poorest man among the christians, horseman or on foot, became rich with what he won that day. hero of switzerland william tell adapted by h.e. marshall i gessler's tyranny far away in the heart of europe there lies a little country called switzerland. it seems wonderful that when great and powerful kings and princes swept over the world, fighting and conquering, little switzerland should not have been conquered and swallowed up by one or other of the great countries which lay around. but the swiss have always been a brave and fearless people. at one time one of the great princes of europe tried to conquer switzerland and take away the freedom of its people. but the people fought so bravely that instead of being conquered they conquered the tyrants and drove them away. in those far-off times the greatest ruler in europe was the emperor, and his empire was divided into many states, over each of which ruled a prince or king who acknowledged the emperor as overlord. when an emperor died the kings and princes met together and chose another emperor from among their number. switzerland was one of the countries which owned the emperor as overlord. but the swiss were a free people. they had no king or prince over them, but a governor only, who was appointed by the emperor. austria was another of the states of the great empire, and at one time a duke of austria was made ruler of switzerland. because of its great beauty, this duke cast greedy eyes upon switzerland and longed to possess it for his very own. but the swiss would not give up their freedom; and three cantons, as the divisions of switzerland are called, joined together, and swore to stand by each other, and never to submit to austria. uri, schwyz, and unterwalden were the names of these three cantons. a little later another canton joined the three. these four cantons lie round a lake which is called the lake of the four forest cantons. when albrecht, duke of austria was chosen emperor he said to himself that now truly he would be lord and master of switzerland. so he sent two nobles to the swiss to talk to them, and persuade them to own him as their king. some of the people of switzerland were persuaded to belong to austria, but all the people of the free cantons replied that they wished to remain free. so the messengers went back to albrecht and told him what the people said. when he heard the message he was very angry. "the proud peasants," he cried, "they will not yield. then i will bend and break them. they will be soft and yielding enough when i have done with them." months went by and the emperor appointed no ruler over switzerland. at last the people, feeling that they must have a governor, sent messengers to the emperor, begging him to appoint a ruler, as all the emperors before him had done. "a governor you shall have." said albrecht. "go home and await his coming. whom i send to you, him you must obey in all things." when they had gone, albrecht smiled grimly to himself. "they will not yield," he said, "but i will oppress them and ill-treat them until i force them to rebel. then i will fight against them and conquer them, and at last switzerland will be mine." a few days later albrecht made his friends hermann gessler and beringer of landenberg governors over the free cantons, telling them to take soldiers with them to enforce the law and to tax the people in order to pay the soldiers. "you will punish all wrong-doers severely," he said, "i will endure no rebels within my empire." hard and bitter days began when gessler and landenberg settled there. they delighted in oppressing the people. they loaded them with taxes; nothing could be either bought or sold but the governors claimed a great part of the money; the slightest fault was punished with long imprisonment and heavy fines. the people became sad and downcast, but still they would not yield to austria. gessler lived in a great castle at küssnacht in schwyz. in it were dreadful dungeons where he imprisoned the people and tortured them according to his wicked will. but he was not pleased to have only one castle, and he made up his mind to build another in uri. so he began to build one near the little town of altorf, which lay at the other end of the lake of the forest cantons. gessler forced the men of uri to build this castle, and he meant to use it not only as a house for himself, but as a prison for the people. "what will you call your castle?" asked a friend one day, as they stood to watch the building. "i will call it the curb of uri," said gessler, with a cruel laugh, "for with it i will curb the proud spirit of these peasants." after watching the work for some time, gessler and his friend rode away. "my friend," said gessler, as he rode, "we will go back to kiissnacht by another way. i have heard that an insolent peasant called werner stauffacher has built himself a new house. i wish to see it. there is no end to the impudence of these peasants." "but what will you do?" asked his friend. "do" said gessler, "why, turn him out, to be sure. what need have these peasants for great houses?" so they rode on to stauffacher's house. "whose house is this?" he demanded. stauffacher answered quietly, "my lord, this house belongs to the emperor, and is yours and mine in fief to hold and use for his service." "i rule this land," said gessler, "in the name of the emperor, and i will not allow peasants to build houses without asking leave. i will have you understand that." and he rode from the doorway. stauffacher told his wife what had happened and she advised him to call a secret meeting of his friends to plan to free themselves from the governor's rule. werner stauffacher spent some days in going from village to village, trying to find out how the peasants and common people felt, and everywhere heard complaints and groans. coming to altorf, where his friend walter fürst lived, he heard in the market-place a great noise of shouting and trampling of feet. down the street a party of austrian soldiers came marching. one of them carried a long pole, and another a red cap with a peacock's feather in it. then the pole with the red cap on the top of it was firmly planted in the ground. as soon as the pole was set up a herald stepped out, blew his trumpet and cried, "se ye this cap here set up? it is his majesty's will and commandment that ye do all bow the knee and bend the head as ye do pass it by." this was a new insult to a free people. stauffacher went to the house of walter fürst, where he met arnold of melchthal, who had suffered much from landenberg. calling upon god and his saints, these three men swore a solemn oath to protect each other and promised to meet in a little meadow called the rütli, the wednesday before martinmas. three weeks passed, and in the darkness and quiet the men stole to the place of meeting with other friends of freedom whom they had brought. near walter fürst stood a young man straight and tall with clear and honest eyes. "william tell," said arnold, "and the best shot in all switzerland. i have seen him shoot an apple from a tree a hundred paces off." then they swore never to betray each other, to be true to the emperor, but to drive the austrian governor, his friends, his servants, and his soldiers out of the land. ii william tell and his great shot william tell did not live in altorf, but in another village some way off, called bürglen. his wife, who was called hedwig, was walter fürst's daughter. tell and hedwig had two sons, william and walter. walter, the younger, was about six years old. william tell loved his wife and his children very much, and they all lived happily together in a pretty little cottage at bürglen. "hedwig," said tell one morning, some days after the meeting mentioned above, "i am going into altorf to see your father." hedwig looked troubled. "do be careful, william," she said. "must you really go? you know the governor is there just now, and he hates you." "oh, i am quite safe," said tell; "i have done nothing for which he could punish me. but i will keep out of his way," and he lifted his crossbow and prepared to go. "do not take your bow," said hedwig, still feeling uneasy. "leave it here." "why, hedwig, how you trouble yourself for nothing," said tell, smiling at her. "why should i leave my bow behind? i feel lost without it." "o father, where are you going?" said walter, running into the room at this minute. "i am going to altorf to see grandfather. would you like to come?" "oh, may i? may i, mother?" "yes, dear, if you like," said hedwig. "and you will be careful, won't you?" she added, turning to tell. "yes, i will," he replied, and walter, throwing his arms round her neck, said, "it's all right, mother, i will take care of father." then they set off merrily together. it was a great thing to go to altorf with father, and walter was so happy that he chattered all the way, asking questions about everything. "how far can you shoot, father?" "oh, a good long way." "as high as the sun?" asked walter, looking up at it. "oh dear, no, not nearly so high as that." "well, how high? as high as the snow-mountains?" "oh no." "why is there always snow on the mountains, father?" asked walter, thinking of something else. and so he went on, asking questions about one thing after another, until his father was quite tired of answering. walter was chattering so much that tell forgot all about the hat upon the pole, and, instead of going round by another way to avoid it, as he had meant to do, he went straight through the market-place to reach walter fürst's house. "father, look," said walter, "look, how funny! there is a hat stuck up on a pole. what is it for?" "don't look, walter," said tell, "the hat has nothing to do with us, don't look at it." and taking walter by the hand, he led him hurriedly away. but it was too late. the soldier, who stood beside the pole to guard it and see that people bowed in passing, pointed his spear at tell and bade him stop. "stand, in the emperor's name," he cried. "let be, friend," said tell, "let me past." "not till you obey the emperor's command. not till you bow to the hat." "it is no command of the emperor," said tell. "it is gessler's folly and tyranny. let me go." "nay, but you must not speak of my lord the governor in such terms. and past you shall not go until you bow to the cap. and, if you bow not, to prison i will lead you. such is my lord's command." "why should i bow to a cap?" said tell, his voice shaking with rage. "were the emperor himself here, then would i bend the knee and bow my head to him with all reverence. but to a hat! never!" and he tried to force his way past heinz the soldier. but heinz would not let him pass, and kept his spear pointed at tell. hearing loud and angry voices, many people gathered to see what the cause might be. soon there was quite a crowd around the two. every one talked at once, and the noise and confusion were great. heinz tried to take tell prisoner, and the people tried to take him away. "help! help!" shouted heinz, hoping that some of his fellow-soldiers would hear him and come to his aid,--"help, help! treason, treason!" then over all the noise of the shouting there sounded the tramp of horses' hoofs and the clang and jangle of swords and armor. "room for the governor. room, i say," cried a herald. the shouting ceased and the crowd silently parted, as gessler, richly dressed, haughty and gloomy, rode through it, followed by a gay company of his friends and soldiers. he checked his horse and, gazing angrily round the crowd, "what is this rioting?" he asked. "my lord," said heinz, stepping forward, "this scoundrel here will not bow to the cap, according to your lordship's command." "eh, what?" said gessler, his dark face growing more dark and angry still. "who dares to disobey my orders?" "'tis william tell of bürglen, my lord." "tell?" said gessler, turning in his saddle and looking at tell as he stood among the people, holding little walter by the hand. there was silence for a few minutes while gessler gazed at tell in anger. "i hear you are a great shot, tell," said gessler at last, laughing scornfully, "they say you never miss." "that is quite true," said little walter eagerly, for he was very proud of his father's shooting. "he can hit an apple on a tree a hundred yards off." "is that your boy?" said gessler, looking at him with an ugly smile. "yes, my lord." "have you other children?" "another boy, my lord." "you are very fond of your children, tell?" "yes, my lord." "which of them do you love best?" tell hesitated. he looked down at little walter with his rosy cheeks and curly hair. then he thought of william at home with his pretty loving ways. "i love them both alike, my lord," he said at last. "ah," said gessler, and thought a minute. "well, tell," he said after a pause. "i have heard so much of this boast of yours about hitting apples, that i should like to see something of it. you shall shoot an apple off your boy's head at a hundred yards' distance. that will be easier than shooting off a tree." "my lord," said tell, turning pale, "you do not mean that? it is horrible. i will do anything rather than that." "you will shoot an apple off your boy's head," repeated gessler in a slow and scornful voice. "i want to see your wonderful skill, and i command you to do it at once. you have your crossbow there. do it." "i will die first," said tell. "very well," said gessler, "but you need not think in that way to save your boy. he shall die with you. shoot, or die both of you. and, mark you, tell, see that you aim well, for if you miss you will pay for it with your life." tell turned pale. his voice trembled as he replied, "my lord, it was but thoughtlessness. forgive me this once, and i will always bow to the cap in future." proud and brave although he was, tell could not bear the thought that he might kill his own child. "have done with this delay," said gessler, growing yet more angry. "you break the laws, and when, instead of punishing you as you deserve, i give you a chance of escape, you grumble and think yourself hardly used. were peasants ever more unruly and discontented? have done, i say. heinz, bring me an apple." the soldier hurried away. "bind the boy to that tree," said gessler, pointing to a tall lime-tree near by. two soldiers seized walter and bound him fast to the tree. he was not in the least afraid, but stood up against the trunk straight and quiet. then, when the apple was brought, gessler rode up to him and, bending from the saddle, himself placed the apple upon his head. all this time the people crowded round silent and wondering, and tell stood among them as if in a dream, watching everything with a look of horror in his eyes. "clear a path there," shouted gessler, and the soldiers charged among the people, scattering them right and left. when a path had been cleared, two soldiers, starting from the tree to which walter was bound, marched over the ground, measuring one hundred paces, and halted. "one hundred paces, my lord," they said, turning to gessler. gessler rode to the spot, calling out, "come, tell, from here you shall shoot." tell took his place. he drew an arrow from his quiver, examined it carefully, and then, instead of fitting it to his bow, he stuck it in his belt. then, still carefully, he chose another arrow and fitted it to his bow. a deep silence fell upon every one as tell took one step forward. he raised his bow. a mist was before his eyes, his arm trembled, his bow dropped from his hand. he could not shoot. the fear that he might kill his boy took away all his skill and courage. a groan broke from the people as they watched. then from far away under the lime-tree came walter's voice, "shoot, father, i am not afraid. you cannot miss." once more tell raised his bow. the silence seemed deeper than ever. the people of altorf knew and loved tell, and fürst, and little walter. and so they watched and waited with heavy hearts and anxious faces. "ping!" went the bowstring. the arrow seemed to sing through the frosty air, and, a second later, the silence was broken by cheer after cheer. the apple lay upon the ground pierced right through the center. one man sprang forward and cut the rope with which walter was bound to the tree; another picked up the apple and ran with it to gessler. but tell stood still, his bow clutched in his hand, his body bent forward, his eyes wild and staring, as if he were trying to follow the flight of the arrow. yet he saw nothing, heard nothing. "he has really done it!" exclaimed gessler in astonishment, as he turned the apple round and round in his hand. "who would have thought it? right in the center, too." little walter, quite delighted, came running to his father. "father," he cried, "i knew you could do it. i knew you could, and i was not a bit afraid. was it not splendid?" and he laughed and pressed his curly head against his father. then suddenly tell seemed to wake out of his dream, and taking walter in his arms he held him close, kissing him again and again. "you are safe, my boy. you are safe," was all he said. but strong man though he was his eyes were full of tears, and he was saying to himself, "i might have killed him. i might have killed my own boy." meanwhile gessler sat upon his horse watching them with a cruel smile upon his wicked face. "tell," he said at last, "that was a fine shot, but for what was the other arrow?" tell put walter down and, holding his hand, turned to gessler, "it is always an archer's custom, my lord, to have a second arrow ready," he said. "nay, nay," said gessler, "that answer will not do, tell. speak the truth." tell was silent. "speak, man," said gessler, "and if you speak the truth, whatever it may be, i promise you your life." "then," said tell, throwing his shoulders back and looking straight at gessler, "since you promise me my life, hear the truth, if that first arrow had struck my child, the second one was meant for you, and be sure i had not missed my mark a second time." gessler's face grew dark with rage. for a moment or two he could not speak. when at last he did speak, his voice was low and terrible, "you dare," he said, "you dare to tell me this! i promised you your life indeed. your life you shall have, but you shall pass it in a dark and lonely prison, where neither sun nor moon shall send the least glimmer of light. there you shall lie, so that i may be safe from you. ah, my fine archer, your bows and arrows will be of little use to you henceforth. seize him, men, and bind him, lest he do murder even now." in a moment the soldiers sprang forward, and tell was seized and bound. as gessler sat watching them, he looked round at all the angry faces of the crowd. "tell has too many friends here," he said to himself. "if i imprison him in the curb of uri, they may find some way to help him to escape. i will take him with me in my boat to klissnacht. there he can have no friends. there he will be quite safe." then aloud he said, "follow me, my men. bring him to the boat." as he said these words, there was a loud murmur from the crowd. "that is against the law," cried many voices. "law, law?" growled gessler. "who makes the law, you or i?" walter fürst had been standing among the crowd silent and anxious. now he stepped forward and spoke boldly. "my lord," he said, "it has ever been a law among the swiss that no one shall be imprisoned out of his own canton. if my son-in-law, william tell, has done wrong, let him be tried and imprisoned here, in uri, in altorf. if you do otherwise you wrong our ancient freedom and rights." "your freedom! your rights!" said gessler roughly. "i tell you, you are here to obey the laws, not to teach me how i shall rule." then turning his horse and calling out, "on, men, to the boat with him," he rode towards the lake, where, at a little place called fliielen, his boat was waiting for him. but walter clung to his father, crying bitterly. tell could not take him in his arms to comfort him, for his hands were tied. but he bent over him to kiss him, saying, "little walter, little walter, be brave. go with thy grandfather and comfort thy mother." so tell was led to gessler's boat, followed by the sorrowing people. their hearts were full of hot anger against the tyrant. yet what could they do? he was too strong for them. tell was roughly pushed into the boat, where he sat closely guarded on either side by soldiers. his bow and arrows, which had been taken from him, were thrown upon a bench beside the steersman. gessler took his seat. the boat started, and was soon out on the blue water of the lake. as the people of altorf watched tell go, their hearts sank. they had not known, until they saw him bound and a prisoner, how much they had trusted and loved him. iii the escape of william tell on the lakes of switzerland storms of wind arise very quickly. the swiss used to dread these storms so much that they gave names to the winds as if they were people. the south wind, which is the fiercest, they called the föhn. there used to be a law that when the föhn arose, all fires were to be put out. for the wind whistled and blew down the wide chimneys like great bellows, till the fires flared up so fiercely that the houses, which were built of wood, were in danger of being burned to the ground. now one of these fierce storms arose. no one noticed when gessler's boat pushed off from the shore how dark the sky had grown nor how keenly the wind was blowing. but before the boat had gone very far the waves began to rise, and the wind to blow fiercer and fiercer. soon the little boat was tossing wildly on great white-crested waves. the rowers bent to the oars and rowed with all their might. but in spite of all they could do, the waves broke over the boat, filling it with water. they were tossed here and there, until it seemed every minute that they would sink. pale with fear, the captain stood at the helm. he was an austrian who knew nothing of the swiss lakes, and he had never before been in such a storm. he was helpless, and he knew that very soon the boat would be a wreck. wrapped in his mantle, gessler sat silent and still, watching the storm. he, too, knew the danger. as the waves dashed over him, one of gessler's servants staggered to his master's feet. "my lord," he said, "you see our need and danger, yet methinks there is one man on board who could save us." "who is that?" asked gessler. "william tell, your prisoner," replied the man. "he is known to be one of the best sailors on this lake. he knows every inch of it. if any one can save the boat, he can." "bring him here," said gessler. "it seems you are a sailor as well as an archer, tell," said gessler, when his prisoner had been brought before him. "can you save the boat and bring us to land?" "yes," said tell. "unbind him, then," said gessler to the soldier, "but mark you, tell, you go not free. even although you save us, you are still my prisoner. do not think to have any reward." the rope which bound tell's hands was cut, and he took his place at the helm. the waves still dashed high, the wind still howled, but under tell's firm hand the boat seemed to steady itself, and the rowers bent to their work with new courage and strength in answer to his commanding voice. tell, leaning forward, peered through the darkness and the spray. there was one place where he knew it would be possible to land--where a bold and desperate man at least might land. he was looking for that place. nearer and nearer to the shore he steered. at last he was quite close to it. he glanced quickly round. his bow and arrows lay beside him. he bent and seized them. then with one great leap he sprang ashore, and as he leaped he gave the boat a backward push with his foot, sending it out again into the stormy waters of the lake. there was a wild outcry from the sailors, but tell was free, for no one dared to follow him. quickly clambering up the mountain-side, he disappeared among the trees. as tell vanished, gessler stood up and shouted in anger, but the little boat, rocking and tossing on the waves, drifted out into the lake, and the austrian sailors, to whom the shore was unknown, dared not row near to it again, lest they should be dashed to pieces upon the rocks. even as it was, they expected every moment that the boat would sink, and that all would be drowned. but despair seemed to give the sailors fresh strength, and soon the wind fell and the waves became quieter. a few hours later, wet, weary, but safe, gessler and his company landed on the shore of schwyz. [illustration: william tell and his friends.] iv tell's second shot as soon as gessler landed, he called for his horse, and silent and gloomy, his heart full of bitter hate against tell and all the swiss, he mounted and rode towards his castle at küssnacht. but tell's heart, too, was full of hate and anger. that morning he had been a gentle, peace-loving man. now all was changed. gessler's cruel jest had made him hard and angry. he could not forget that he might have killed his own boy. he seemed to see always before him walter bound to the tree with the apple on his head. tell made up his mind that gessler should never make any one else suffer so much. there was only one thing to do. that was to kill gessler, and that tell meant to do. if gessler escaped from the storm, tell was sure that he would go straight to his castle at küssnacht. there was only one road which led from the lake to the castle, and at a place called the hollow way it became very narrow, and the banks rose steep and rugged on either side. there tell made up his mind to wait for gessler. there he meant to free his country from the cruel tyrant. without stopping for food or rest, tell hurried through the woods until he came to the hollow way. there he waited and watched. many people passed along the road. there were herds with their flocks, and travelers of all kinds, among them a poor woman whose husband had been put in prison by gessler, so that now she had no home, and had to wander about with her children begging. she stopped and spoke to tell, and the story she told of gessler's cruelty made tell's heart burn with anger, and made him more sure than ever that the deed he meant to do was just and right. the day went on, and still gessler did not come, and still tell waited. at last he heard the distant tramp of feet and the sound of voices. surely he had come at last. but as the sounds came nearer, tell knew that it could not be gessler, for he heard music and laughter, and through the hollow way came a gaily dressed crowd. it was a wedding-party. laughing and merry, the bride and bridegroom with their friends passed along. when they were out of sight the wind brought back the sound of their merry voices to tell, as he waited upon the bank. they, at least, had for a time forgotten gessler. at last, as the sun was setting, tell heard the tramp of horses, and a herald dashed along the road, shouting, "room for the governor. room, i say." as gessler came slowly on behind, tell could hear him talking in a loud and angry voice to a friend. "obedience i will have," he was saying. "i have been far too mild a ruler over this people. they grow too proud. but i will break their pride. let them prate of freedom, indeed. i will crush--" the sentence was never finished. an arrow whizzed through the air, and with a groan gessler fell, dead. tell's second arrow had found its mark. immediately everything was in confusion. gessler's soldiers crowded round, trying to do something for their master. but it was useless. he was dead. tell's aim had been true. "who has done this foul murder?" cried one of gessler's friends, looking round. "the shot was mine," answered tell, from where he stood on the high bank. "but no murder have i done. i have but freed an unoffending people from a base and cowardly tyrant. my cause is just, let god be the judge." at the sound of his voice every one turned to look at tell, as he stood above them calm and unafraid. "seize him!" cried the man who had already spoken, as soon as he recovered from his astonishment. "seize him, it is tell the archer." five or six men scrambled up the steep bank as fast as they could. but tell slipped quietly through the bushes, and when they reached the top he was nowhere to be found. the short winter's day was closing in fast, and tell found it easy to escape in the darkness from gessler's soldiers. they soon gave up the chase, and, returning to the road, took up their master's dead body and carried it to his castle at küssnacht there was little sorrow for him, for he had been a hard master. the austrian soldiers did not grieve, and the swiss, wherever they heard the news, rejoiced. as soon as he was free of the soldiers, tell turned and made for stauffacher's house. all through the night he walked, until he came to the pretty house with its red roofs and many windows which had made gessler so angry. now there was no light in any of the windows, and all was still and quiet. but tell knew in which of the rooms stauffacher slept, and he knocked softly upon the window until he had aroused his friend. "william tell!" said stauffacher in astonishment. "i heard from walter fürst that you were a prisoner. thank heaven that you are free again." "i am free," said tell; "you, too, are free. gessler is dead." "gessler dead!" exclaimed stauffacher. "now indeed have we cause for thankfulness. tell me, how did it happen?" and he drew william tell into the house. tell soon told all his story. then stauffacher, seeing how weary he was, gave him food and made him rest. that night tell slept well. all next day he remained hidden in stauffacher's house. "you must not go," said his friend, "gessler's soldiers will be searching for you." but when evening came tell crept out into the dark again, and kind friends rowed him across the lake back to flüelen. there, where a few days before he had been a prisoner, he landed, now free. tell went at once to walter fürst's house, and soon messengers were hurrying all through the land to gather together again the confederates, as those who had met on that eventful night were called. this time they gathered with less fear and less secrecy, for was not the dreaded governor dead? not one but was glad, yet some of the confederates blamed tell, for they had all promised to wait until the first of january before doing anything. "i know," said tell, "but he drove me to it." and every man there who had left a little boy at home felt that he too might have done the same thing. now that tell had struck the first blow, some of the confederates wished to rise at once. but others said, "no, it is only a few weeks now until new year's day. let us wait." so they waited, and everything seemed quiet and peaceful in the land, for the emperor sent no governor to take gessler's place, as he was far away in austria, too busy fighting and quarreling there to think of switzerland in the meantime. "when i have finished this war," he said, "it will be time enough to crush these swiss rebels." hero of persia rustem adapted by alfred j. church i the seven adventures of rustem king keïkobad died, and his son kaoüs sat upon his throne. at first he was a moderate and prudent prince; but finding his riches increase, and his armies grow more and more numerous, he began to believe that there was no one equal to him in the whole world, and that he could do what he would. one day as he sat drinking in one of the chambers of his palace, and boasting after his custom, a genius, disguised as a minstrel, came to the king's chamberlain, and desired to be admitted to the royal presence. "i came," he said, "from the country of the genii, and i am a sweet singer. maybe the king, if he were to hear me, would give me a post in his court." the chamberlain went to the king, and said, "there is a minstrel at the gate; he has a harp in his hand, and his voice is marvelously sweet." "bring him up," said the king. so they brought him in, and gave him a place among the musicians, and commanded that he should give them a trial of his powers. so the minstrel, after playing a prelude on his harp, sang a song of the land of the genii. "there is no land in all the world" this was the substance of his song--"like mazanderan, the land of the genii. all the year round the rose blooms in its gardens and the hyacinth on its hills. it knows no heat nor cold, only an eternal spring. the nightingales sing in its thicket, and through its valleys wander the deer, and the water of its stream is as the water of roses, delighting the soul with its perfume. of its treasures there is no end; the whole country is covered with gold and embroidery and jewels. no man can say that he is happy unless he has seen mazanderan." when the king heard this song, he immediately conceived the thought of marching against this wonderful country. turning, therefore, to his warriors, he said: "we are given over to feasting; but the brave must not suffer himself to rest in idleness. i am wealthier and, i doubt not, stronger than all the kings that have gone before me; it becomes me also to surpass them in my achievements. we will conquer the land of genii." the warriors of the king were little pleased to hear such talk from his lips. no one ventured to speak, but their hearts were full of trouble and fear, for they had no desire to fight against the genii. "we are your subjects, o king," they said, "and will do as you desire." but when they were by themselves, and could speak openly, they said one to another, "what a trouble is this that has come of our prosperous fortune! unless by good fortune the king forgets this purpose of his, we and the whole country are lost. jemshid, whom the genii and the peris and the very birds of the air used to obey, never ventured to talk in this fashion of mazanderan, or to seek war against the genii; and feridun, though he was the wisest of kings, and skilful in all magical arts, never cherished such a plan." so they sat, overwhelmed with anxiety. at last one of them said, "my friends, there is only one way of escaping from this danger. let us send a swift dromedary to zal of the white hair, with this message: 'though your head be covered with dust, do not stay to wash it, but come.' perhaps zal will give the king wise advice, and, telling him that this plan of his is nothing but a counsel of satan, will persuade him to change his purpose. otherwise we are lost, small and great." the nobles listened to this advice, and sent a messenger to zal, mounted on a swift dromedary. when zal heard what had happened, he said: "the king is self-willed. he has not yet felt either the cold or the heat of the world. he thinks that all men, great and small, tremble at his sword, and it must needs be that he learn better by experience. however, i will go; i will give him the best advice that i can. if he will be persuaded by me, it will be well; but if not, the way is open, and rustem shall go with his army." all night long he revolved these matters in his heart. the next morning he went his way, and arrived at the court of the king. the king received him with all honor, bade him sit by his side, and inquired how he had borne the fatigue of his journey, and of the welfare of rustem, his son. then zal spoke: "i have heard, my lord, that you are forming plans against the land of the genii. will it please you to listen to me? there have been mighty kings before you, but never during all my years, which now are many, has any one of them conceived in his heart such a design as this. this land is inhabited by genii that are skilful in all magical arts. they can lay such bonds upon men that no one is able to hurt them. no sword is keen enough to cut them through; riches and wisdom and valor are alike powerless against them. i implore you, therefore, not to waste your riches, and the riches of your country and the blood of your warriors, on so hopeless an enterprise." the king answered, "doubtless it is true that the kings my predecessors never ventured to entertain such a plan. but am i not superior to them in courage, in power and wealth? had they such warriors as you, and rustem your son? do not think to turn me from my purpose. i will go against the country of these accursed magicians, and verily i will not leave one single soul alive in it, for they are an evil race. if you do not care to come with me, at least refrain from advising me to sit idle upon my throne." when zal heard this answer, he said: "you are the king, and we are your slaves. whatever you ordain is right and just, and it is only by thy good pleasure that we breathe and move. i have said what was in my heart. all that remains now is to obey, and to pray that the ruler of the world may prosper your counsels." when he had thus spoken, zal took leave of the king, and departed for his own country. the very next day the king set out with his army for the land of the genii, and, after marching for several days, pitched his tent at the foot of mount asprus, and held a great revel all the night long with his chiefs. the next morning he said, "choose me two thousand men who will break down the gates of mazanderan with their clubs. and take care that when you have taken the city you spare neither young nor old, for i will rid the world of these magicians." they did as the king commanded, and in a short space of time the city, which was before the richest and most beautiful in the whole world, was made into a desert. when the king of mazanderan heard of these things he called a messenger, and said: "go to the white genius and say to him, 'the persians have come with a great army and are destroying everything. make haste and help me, or there will be nothing left to preserve.'" the white genius said, "tell the king not to be troubled; i will see to these persians." that same night the whole army of king kaoüs was covered with a wonderful cloud. the sky was dark as pitch, and there fell from it such a terrible storm of hailstones that no one could stand against them. when the next morning came, lo! the king and all that had not fled--for many fled to their own country--or been killed by the hailstones, were blind. seven days they remained terrified and helpless. on the eighth day they heard the voice, loud as a clap of thunder, of the white genius. "king," said he, "you coveted the land of mazanderan, you entered the city, you slew and took prisoners many of the people; but you did not know what i could do. and now, see, you have your desire. your lot is of your own contriving." the white genius then gave over the king and his companions to the charge of an army of twelve thousand genii, and commanded that they should be kept in prison, and have just so much food given them as should keep them alive from day to day. kaoüs, however, contrived to send by one of his warriors a message to zal the white-haired, telling him of all the troubles that had come upon him. when zal heard the news he was cut to the heart, and sent without delay for rustem. "rustem," said he, "this is no time for a man to eat and drink and take his pleasure. the king is in the hands of satan, and we must deliver him. as for me, i am old and feeble; but you are of the age for war. saddle raksh, your horse, and set forth without a moment's delay. the white genius must not escape the punishment of his misdeeds at your hands." "the way is long," said rustem; "how shall i go?" "there are two ways," answered zal, "and both are difficult and dangerous. the king went by the longer way. the other is by far the shorter, a two-weeks' march and no more; but it is full of lions and evil genii, and it is surrounded by darkness. still, i would have you go by it. god will be your helper; and difficult as the way may be, it will have an end, and your good horse raksh will accomplish it. and if it be the will of heaven that you should fall by the hand of the white genius, who can change the ordering of destiny? sooner or later we must all depart, and death should be no trouble to him who has filled the earth with his glory." "my father, i am ready to do your bidding," said rustem. "nevertheless, the heroes of old cared not to go of their own accord into the land of death; and it is only he who is weary of life that throws himself in the way of a roaring lion. still i go, and i ask for no help but from the justice of god. with that on my side i will break the charm of the magicians. the white genius himself shall not escape me." rustem armed himself, and went on his way. rustem made such speed that he accomplished two days' journey in one. but at last, finding himself hungry and weary, and seeing that there were herds of wild asses in the plain which he was traversing, he thought that he would catch one of them for his meal, and rest for the night. so pressing his knees into his horse's side, he pursued one of them. there was no escape for the swiftest beast when rustem was mounted on raksh, and in a very short time a wild ass was caught with the lasso. rustem struck a light with a flintstone, and making a fire with brambles and branches of trees, roasted the ass and ate it for his meal. this done he took the bridle from his horse, let him loose to graze upon the plain, and prepared himself to sleep in a bed of rushes. now in the middle of this bed of rushes was a lion's lair, and at the end of the first watch the lion came back, and was astonished to see lying asleep on the rushes a man as tall as an elephant, with a horse standing near him. the lion said to himself, "i must first tear the horse, and then the rider will be mine whenever i please." so he leaped at raksh; but the horse darted at him like a flash of fire, and struck him on the head with his fore feet. then he seized him by the back with his teeth, and battered him to pieces on the earth. when rustem awoke and saw the dead lion, which indeed was of a monstrous size, he said to raksh, "wise beast, who bade you fight with a lion? if you had fallen under his claws, how should i have carried to mazanderan this cuirass and helmet, this lasso, my bow and my sword?" then he went to sleep again; but awaking at sunrise, saddled raksh and went on his way. he had now to accomplish the most difficult part of his journey, across a waterless desert, so hot that the very birds could not live in it. horse and rider were both dying of thirst, and rustem, dismounting, could scarcely struggle along while he supported his steps by his spear. when he had almost given up all hope, he saw a well-nourished ram pass by. "where," said he to himself, "is the reservoir from which this creature drinks?" accordingly he followed the ram's footsteps, holding his horse's bridle in one hand and his sword in the other, and the ram led him to a spring. then rustem lifted up his eyes to heaven and thanked god for his mercies; afterwards he blessed the ram, saying, "no harm come to thee forever! may the grass of the valleys and the desert be always green for thee, and may the bow of him that would hunt thee be broken, for thou hast saved rustem; verily, without thee he would have been torn to pieces by the wild beasts of the desert." after this he caught another wild ass, and roasted him for his meal. then having bathed in the spring, he lay down to sleep; but before he lay down, he said to raksh, his horse: "do not seek quarrel or friendship with any. if an enemy come, run to me; and do not fight either with genius or lion." after this he slept; and raksh now grazed, and now galloped over the plain. now it so happened that there was a great dragon that had its bed in this part of the desert. so mighty a beast was it, that not even a genius had dared to pass by that way. the dragon was astonished to see a man asleep and a horse by his side, and began to make its way to the horse. raksh did as he had been bidden, and running towards his master, stamped with his feet upon the ground. rustem awoke, and seeing nothing when he looked about him--for the dragon meanwhile had disappeared--was not a little angry. he rebuked raksh, and went to sleep again. then the dragon came once more out of the darkness, and the horse ran with all speed to his master, tearing up the ground and kicking. a second time the sleeper awoke, but as he saw nothing but darkness round him, he was greatly enraged, and said to his faithful horse: "why do you disturb me? if it wearies you to see me asleep, yet you cannot bring the night to an end. i said that if a lion came to attack you, i would protect you; but i did not tell you to trouble me in this way. verily, if you make such a noise again, i will cut off your head and go on foot, carrying all my arms and armor with me to mazanderan." a third time rustem slept, and a third time the dragon came. this time raksh, who did not venture to come near his master, fled over the plain; he was equally afraid of the dragon and of rustem. still his love for his master did not suffer him to rest. he neighed and tore up the earth, till rustem woke up again in a rage. but this time god would not suffer the dragon to hide himself, and rustem saw him through the darkness, and, drawing his sword, rushed at him. but first he said, "tell me your name; my hand must not tear your soul from your body before i know your name." the dragon said, "no man can ever save himself from my claws; i have dwelt in this desert for ages, and the very eagles have not dared to fly across. tell me then your name, bold man. unhappy is the mother that bore you." "i am rustem, son of zal of the white hair," said the hero, "and there is nothing on earth that i fear." then the dragon threw itself upon rustem. but the horse raksh laid back his ears, and began to tear the dragon's back with his teeth, just as a lion might have torn it. the hero stood astonished for a while; then, drawing his sword, severed the monster's head from his body. then, having first bathed, he returned thanks to god, and mounting on raksh, went his way. all that day he traveled across the plain, and came at sunset to the land of the magicians. just as the daylight was disappearing, he spied a delightful spot for his night's encampment. there were trees and grass, and a spring of water. and beside the spring there was a flagon of red wine, and a roast kid, with bread and salt and confectionery neatly arranged. rustem dismounted, unsaddled his horse, and looked with astonishment at the provisions thus prepared. it was the meal of certain magicians, who had vanished when they saw him approach. of this he knew nothing, but sitting down without question, filled a cup with wine, and taking a harp which he found lying by the side of the flagon, sang: "the scourge of the wicked am i, and my days still in battle go by; not for me is the red wine that glows in the reveler's cup, nor the rose that blooms in the land of delight; but with monsters and demons to fight." the music and the voice of the singer reached the ears of a witch that was in those parts. forthwith, by her art, she made her face as fair as spring, and, approaching rustem, asked him how he fared, and sat down by his side. the hero thanked heaven that he had thus found in the desert such good fare and excellent company; for he did not know that the lovely visitor was a witch. he welcomed her, and handed her a cup of wine; but, as he handed it, he named the name of god, and at the sound her color changed, and she became as black as charcoal. when rustem saw this, quick as the wind he threw his lasso over her head. "confess who you are," he cried; "show yourself in your true shape." then the witch was changed into a decrepit, wrinkled old woman. rustem cut her in halves with a blow of his sword. the next day he continued his journey with all the speed that he could use, and came to a place where it was utterly dark. neither sun, nor moon, nor stars could be seen; and all that the hero could do was to let the reins fall on his horse's neck, and ride on as chance might direct. in time he came to a most delightful country, where the sun was shining brightly, and where the ground was covered with green. rustem took off his cuirass of leopard-skin, and his helmet, and let raksh find pasture where he could in the fertile fields, and lay down to sleep. when the keeper of the fields saw the horse straying among them and feeding, he was filled with rage; and running up to the hero, dealt him with his stick a great blow upon the feet. rustem awoke. "son of satan," said the keeper, "why do you let your horse stray in the cornfields?" rustem leaped upon the man, and without uttering a word good or bad, wrenched his ears from his head. now the owner of this fertile country was a young warrior of renown named aulad. the keeper ran up to him with his ears in his hand, and said: "there has come to this place a son of satan, clad in a cuirass of leopard-skin, with an iron helmet. i was going to drive his horse out of the cornfields, when he leaped upon me, tore my ears from my head without saying a single word, and then lay down to sleep again." aulad was about to go hunting with his chiefs; but when he heard the keeper's story he altered his plan, and set out to the place where he heard that rustem had been seen. rustem, as soon as he saw him approach, and a great company with him, ran to raksh, leaped on his back, and rode forward. aulad said to him, "who are you? what are you doing here? why did you pluck off my keeper's ears and let your horse feed in the cornfields?" "if you were to hear my name," said rustem, "it would freeze the blood in your heart." so saying he drew his sword, and fastening his lasso to the bow of his saddle, rushed as a lion rushes into the midst of a herd of oxen. with every blow of his sword he cut off a warrior's head, till the whole of aulad's company was either slain or scattered. aulad himself he did not kill, but throwing his lasso, caught him by the neck, dragged him from his horse, and bound his hands. "now," said he, "if you will tell me the truth, and, without attempting to deceive, will show me where the white genius dwells, and will guide me to where king kaoüs is kept prisoner, then i will make you king of mazanderan. but if you speak a word of falsehood you die." "it is well," said aulad; "i will do what you desire. i will show you where the king is imprisoned. it is four hundred miles from this place; and four hundred miles farther, a difficult and dangerous way, is the dwelling of the white genius. it is a cavern so deep that no man has ever sounded it, and it lies between two mountains. twelve thousand genii watch it during the night, for the white genius is the chief and master of all his tribe. you will find him a terrible enemy, and, for all your strong arms and hands, your keen sword, your lance and your club, you will scarcely be able to conquer him; and when you have conquered him, there will still be much to be done. in the city of the king of mazanderan there are thousands of warriors, and not a coward among them; and besides these, there are two hundred war-elephants. were you made of iron, could you venture to deal alone with these sons of satan?" rustem smiled when he heard this, and said, "come with me, and you will see what a single man, who puts his trust in god, can do. and now show me first the way to the king's prison." rustem mounted on raksh, and rode gaily forward, and aulad ran in front of him. for a whole day and night he ran, nor ever grew tired, till they reached the foot of mount asprus, where king kaoüs had fallen into the power of the genii. about midnight they heard a great beating of drums, and saw many fires blaze up. rustem said to aulad, "what mean these fires that are blazing up to right and left of us?" aulad answered, "this is the way into mazanderan. the great genius arzeng must be there." then rustem went to sleep; and when he woke in the morning he took his lasso and fastened aulad to the trunk of a tree. then hanging his grandfather's club to his saddlebow, he rode on. his conflict with arzeng, the chief of the army of the genii, was soon finished. as he approached the camp he raised his battle-cry. his shout was loud enough, one would have said, to split the very mountains; and arzeng, when he heard it, rushed out of his tent. rustem set spurs to his horse, and galloping up to the genius, caught him by the head, tore it from the body, and threw it into the midst of the army. when the genii saw it, and caught sight also of the great club, they fled in the wildest confusion, fathers trampling upon their sons in their eagerness to escape. the hero put the whole herd of them to the sword, and then returned as fast as he could to the place where he had left aulad bound to the tree. he unloosed the knots of the lasso, and bidding him lead the way to the prison-house of the king, set spurs to raksh, aulad running in front as before. when they entered the town, raksh neighed. his voice was as loud as thunder, and the king heard it, and in a moment understood all that had happened. "that is the voice of raksh," he said to the persians that were with him; "our evil days are over. this was the way in which he neighed in king kobad's time, when he made war on the scythians." the persians said to themselves, "our poor king has lost his senses, or he is dreaming. there is no help for us." but they had hardly finished speaking when the hero appeared, and did homage to the king. kaoüs embraced him, and then said: "if you are to help me, you must go before the genii know of your coming. so soon as the white genius shall hear of the fall of arzeng, he will assemble such an army of his fellows as shall make all your pains and labor lost. but you must know that you have great difficulties to overcome. first, you must cross seven mountains, all of them occupied by troops of genii; then you will see before you a terrible cavern--more terrible, i have heard say, than any other place in the world. the entrance to it is guarded by warrior genii, and in it dwells the white genius himself. he is both the terror and the hope of his army. conquer him, and all will be well. a wise physician tells me that the only remedy for my blindness is to drop into my eyes three drops of the white genius's blood. go and conquer, if you would save your king." without any delay rustem set forth, raksh carrying him like the wind. when he reached the great cavern, he said to aulad, who had guided him on his way as before, "the time of conflict is come. show me the way." aulad answered, "when the sun shall grow hot, the genii will go to sleep. that will be your time to conquer them." rustem waited till the sun was at its highest, and then went forth to battle. the genii that were on guard fled at the sound of his voice, and he went on without finding any to resist him till he came to the great cavern of which the king had spoken. it was a terrible place to see, and he stood for a while with his sword in his hand, doubting what he should do. no one would choose such a spot for battle; and as for escaping from it, that was beyond all hope. long he looked into the darkness, and at last he saw a monstrous shape, which seemed to reach across the whole breadth of the cave. it was the white genius that was lying asleep. rustem did not attempt to surprise him in his sleep, but woke him by shouting his battle-cry. when the white genius saw him, he rushed at once to do battle with him. first he caught up from the ground a stone as big as a millstone and hurled it at him. for the first time rustem felt a thrill of fear, so terrible was his enemy. nevertheless, gathering all his strength, he struck at him a great blow with his sword and cut off one of his feet. the monster, though having but one foot, leaped upon him like a wild elephant, and seized him by the breast and arms, hoping to throw him to the ground, and tore from his body great pieces of flesh, so that the whole place was covered with blood. rustem said to himself, "if i escape to-day i shall live forever;" and the white genius thought, "even if i do deliver myself from the claws of this dragon, i shall never see mazanderan again." still he did not lose courage, but continued to struggle against the hero with all his might. so the two fought together, the blood and sweat running from them in great streams. at last rustem caught the genius round the body, and, putting out all his strength, hurled him to the ground with such force that his soul was driven out of his body. then he plunged his poinard into the creature's heart, and tore the liver out of his body. this done he returned to aulad, whom he had left bound with his lasso, loosed him, and set out for the place where he had left the king. but first aulad said to him, "i have the marks of your bonds upon me; my body is bruised with the knots of your lasso; i beseech you to respect the promise which you made me of a reward. a hero is bound to keep his word." rustem said: "i promised that you should be king of mazanderan, and king you shall be. but i have much to do before my word can be kept. i have a great battle to fight, in which i may be conquered, and i must rid this country of the magicians with whom it is encumbered. but be sure that, when all is done, i will not fail of the promises which i have made." so rustem returned to king kaoüs, and, dropping the blood of the white genius into his eyes, gave him back his sight. seven days the king and his nobles feasted together, rustem having the chief place. on the eighth day they set out to clear the country of the accursed race of magicians. when they had done this, the king said, "the guilty have now been punished. let no others suffer. and now i will send a letter to the king of mazanderan." so the king wrote a letter in these words: "you see how god has punished the wrong-doers--how he has brought to naught the genii and the magicians. quit then your town, and come here to pay homage and tribute to me. if you will not, then your life shall be as the life of arzeng and the white genius." this letter was carried to the king by a certain chief named ferbad. when the king had read it, he was greatly troubled. three days he kept ferbad as his guest, and then sent back by him this answer: "shall the water of the sea be equal to wine? am i one to whom you can say, 'come down from your throne, and present yourself before me?' make ready to do battle with me, for verily i will bring upon the land of persia such destruction that no man shall be able to say what is high and what is low." ferbad hastened back to the king of persia. "the man," he said, "is resolved not to yield." then the king sent to rustem. and rustem said, "send me with a letter that shall be as keen as a sword and a message like a thunder-cloud." so the king sent for a scribe, who, making the point of his reed as fine as an arrowhead, wrote thus: "these are foolish words, and do not become a man of sense. put away your arrogance, and be obedient to my words. if you refuse, i will bring such an army against you as shall cover your land from one sea to the other; and the ghost of the white genius shall call the vultures to feast on your brains." the king set his seal to this letter, and rustem departed with it, with his club hanging to his saddlebow. when the king of mazanderan heard of his coming, he sent some of his nobles to meet him. when rustem saw them, he caught a huge tree that was by the wayside in his hands, twisted it with all his might, and tore it up, roots and all. then he poised it in his hand as if it were a javelin. one of the nobles, the strongest of them all, rode up to him, caught one of his hands, and pressed it with all his might. rustem only smiled; but when in his turn he caught the noble's hand in his, he crushed all the veins and bones, so that the man fell fainting from his horse. when the king heard what had been done, he called one of his warriors, kalahour by name, the strongest man in his dominions, and said to him, "go and meet this messenger; show him your prowess, and cover his face with shame." so kalahour rode to meet rustem, and, taking him by the hand, wrung it with all the strength of an elephant. the hand turned blue with the pain, but the hero did not flinch or give any sign of pain. but when in his turn he wrung the hand of kalahour, the nails dropped from it as the leaves drop from a tree. kalahour rode back, his hand hanging down, and said to the king, "it will be better for you to make peace than to fight with this lion, whose strength is such that no man can stand against him. pay this tribute, and we will make it good to you. otherwise we are lost." at this moment rustem rode up. the king gave him a place at his right hand, and asked him of his welfare. rustem, for answer, gave him the letter of kei-kaöus. when the king had read the letter, his face became black as thunder. then he said, "carry back this answer to your master: 'you are lord of persia, and i of mazanderan. be content; seek not that which is not yours. otherwise your pride will lead you to your fall.'" the king would have given rustem royal gifts, robes of honor, and horses, and gold. but the hero would have none of them, but went away in anger. when he had returned to the king of persia, he said to him, "fear nothing, but make ready for battle. as for the warriors of this land of mazanderan, they are nothing; i count them no better than a grain of dust." meanwhile the king of the magicians prepared for war. he gathered an army, horsemen and foot-soldiers and elephants, that covered the face of the earth, and approached the borders of persia; and, on the other hand, king kaoüs marshaled his men of war and went out to encounter him. the king himself took his place in the center of the line of battle, and in front of all stood the great rustem. one of the nobles of mazanderan came out of their line, with a great club in his hands, and approaching the persian army, cried in a loud voice, "who is ready to fight with me? he should be one who is able to change water into dust." none of the persian nobles answered him, and king kaoüs said, "why is it, ye men of war, that your faces are troubled, and your tongues silent before this genius?" but still the nobles made no answer. then rustem caught the rein of his horse, and, putting the point of his lance over his shoulder, rode up to the king, and said, "will the king give me permission to fight with this genius?" the king said, "the task is worthy of you, for none of the persians dare to meet this warrior. go and prosper!" so rustem set spurs to raksh, and rode against the warrior who had challenged the persians. "hear," he said, as soon as he came near, "your name is blotted out of the list of the living; for the moment is come when you shall suffer the recompense of all your misdeeds." the warrior answered, "boast not yourself so proudly. my sword makes mothers childless." when rustem heard this, he cried with a voice of thunder, "i am rustem!" and the warrior, who had no desire to fight the champion of the world, turned his back and fled. but rustem pursued him, and thrust at him with his lance where the belt joins the coat of mail, and pierced him through, for the armor could not turn the point of the great spear. then he lifted him out of his saddle, and raised him up in the air, as if he were a bird which a man had run through with a spit. this done, he dashed him down dead upon the ground, and all the nobles of mazanderan stood astonished at the sight. after this the two armies joined battle. the air grew dark, and the flashing of the swords and clubs flew like the lightning out of a thunder-cloud, and the mountains trembled with the cries of the combatants. never had any living man seen so fierce a fight before. for seven days the battle raged, and neither the one side nor the other could claim the victory. on the eighth day king kaoüs bowed himself before god, taking his crown from his head, and prayed with his face to the ground, saying, "o lord god, give me, i beseech thee, the victory over the genii who fear thee not." then he set his helmet on his head, and put himself at the head of his army. first of all rustem began the attack, charging the center of the enemy's army. he directed his course straight to the place where the king of mazanderan stood, surrounded with his chiefs and a great host of elephants. when the king saw the shine of his lance, he lost courage, and would have fled. but rustem, with a cry like a lion's roar, charged him, and struck him on the girdle with his spear. the spear pierced the steel, and would have slain the king, but that by his magic art he changed himself, before the eyes of all the persian army, into a mass of rock. rustem stood astonished to see such a marvel. when king kaoüs came up with his warriors, he said to rustem, "what is it? what ails you that you tarry here, doing no thing?" "my lord," answered rustem, "i charged the king of mazanderan, spear in hand; i struck him on the girdle, but when i thought to see him fall from his saddle, he changed himself into a rock before my eyes, and now he feels nothing that i can do." then king kaoüs commanded that they should take up the rock and put it before his throne. but when the strongest men in the army came to handle the rock, or sought to draw it with cords, they could do nothing; it remained immovable. rustem, however, without any one to help him, lifted it from the earth, and carrying it into the camp, threw it down before the king's tent, and said, "give up these cowardly tricks and the art of magic, else i will break this rock into pieces." when the king of mazanderan heard this, he made himself visible, black as a thunder-cloud, with a helmet of steel upon his head and a coat of mail upon his breast. rustem laughed, and caught him by the hand, and brought him before the king. "see," said he, "this lump of rock, who, for fear of the hatchet has given himself up to me!" when kaoüs looked at him and observed how savage of aspect he was, with the neck and tusks of a wild boar, he saw that he was not worthy to sit upon a throne, and bade the executioner take him away and cut him in pieces. this done, he sent to the enemies' camp, and commanded that all the spoil, the king's throne, and his crown and girdle, the horses and the armor, the swords and jewels, should be gathered together. then he called up his army, and distributed to them rewards in proportion to what they had done and suffered. after this he spent seven days in prayer, humbling himself before god, and offering up thanksgiving. on the eighth day he seated himself on his throne, and opened his treasures, and gave to all that had need. thus he spent another seven days. on the fifteenth day, he called for wine and cups of amber and rubies, and sat for seven days on his throne, with the wine-cup in his hand. he sent for rustem, and said, "it is of your doing, by your strength and courage, that i have recovered my throne." rustem answered, "a man must do his duty. as for the honors that you would give me, i owe them all to aulad, who has always guided me on the right way. he hopes to be made king of mazanderan. let the king, therefore, if it please him, invest him with the crown." and this the king did. the next day kaoüs and his army set out to return to the land of persia. when he had reached his palace, he seated himself upon his throne, and sending for rustem, put him at his side. rustem said, "my lord, permit me to go back to the old man zal, my father." the king commanded that they should bring splendid presents for the hero. the presents were these: a throne of turquoise, adorned with rams' heads; a royal crown set about with jewels; a robe of brocade of gold, such as is worn by the king of kings; a bracelet and a chain of gold; a hundred maidens, with faces fair as the full moon, and girdles of gold; a hundred youths, whose hair was fragrant with musk; a hundred horses, harnessed with gold and silver; a hundred mules with black hair, with loads of brocade that came from the land of room and from persia. after these they brought and laid at the hero's feet a hundred purses filled with gold pieces; a cup of rubies, filled with pure musk; another cup of turquoise, filled with attar of roses; and, last of all, a letter written on pages of silk, in ink made of wine and aloes and amber and the black of lamps. by this letter the king of kings gave anew to rustem the kingdom of the south. then kaoüs blessed him, and said: "may you live as long as men shall see the sun and the moon in heaven! may the great of the earth join themselves to you! may your own soul be full of modesty and tenderness!" rustem prostrated himself on the earth, and kissed the throne; and so took his departure. list of best books of myths and legends ashton, t. _romances of chivalry_ baldwin, j. _the story of siegfried_ baldwin, j. _the story of roland_ baring-gould, s. _curious myths of the middle ages_ brooks, e. _the story of the Æneid_ brooks, e. _the story of the odyssey_ bulfinch, t. _the age of chivalry_ bulfinch, t. _legends of charlemagne_ burns, j. _popular tales and legends_ clodd, e. _the birth and growth of myths_ clodd, e. _the childhood of religions_ cooker, f.j. _nature myths and stories_ cox, g.w. _tales of ancient greece_ cox, g.w. _popular romances of the middle ages_ crane, f.t. _italian popular tales_ crommelin, mary _famous legends_ curtin, j. _myths and folk tales of the russians_ drake, s.a. _north-east legends_ du maurier, george. _legend of camelot_ edwardson, e. _the courteous knight_ emmerson, ellen russell _indian myths_ fisk, john. _myths and myth makers_ francillon, r.e. _gods and heroes_ gayley, f. _classic myths_ grinnel, g.b. _blackfoot lodge tales_ guerber, h.a. _myths of northern lands_ guerber, h.a. _myths of greece and rome_ hall, j. _legends of the west_ hawthorne, nathaniel _tanglewood tales_ hawthorne, nathaniel _the wonder book_ hearn, lafcadio _some chinese ghosts_ holbrook, f. _the book of nature's myths_ hulme, f.e. _mythland_ hunt, r. _popular romances of the west of england_ irving, washington _the legend of sleepy hollow_ jacobs, joseph _the book of wonder voyages_ kennedy, patrick _legendary fictions of the irish celts_ kingsley, charles. _greek heroes_ kupler, grace h._stories of long ago_ lang, andrew _modern mythology_ lanier, sydney _the boy's king arthur_ lanier, sydney _the boy's mabinogion_ lanier, sydney _the boy's percy_ lanier, sydney _the boy's froissart_ leitz, a.f. _legends and stories_ lover, samuel _legends and stories of ireland_ mabie, h.w. _norse tales_ mabie, h.w. (ed.) _myths that every child should know_ macaulay, lord _lays of ancient rome_ macdonald, george _the light princess_ magnusson and morris _the saga library_ mitchell, s.w. _prince little boy_ nutt, alfred _folk lore_ pratt-chadwick, m.l. _legends of the red children_ pyle, howard. _story of king arthur_ ralston, w.r.s._russian folk tales_ saintine, x.b. _myths of the rhine_ schrammem, j. _legends of german heroes of the middle ages_ scudder, h.e. _the book of legends_ scudder, h.e. _the children's book_ scudder, h.e. _the book of folk stories_ skinner, c.m. _myths and legends_ southey, r. _chronicles of the cid_ tanner, d. _legends from the red man's forest_ tappan, e.m. _robin hood: his book_ wilde, lady _ancient legends_ transcribed from the longmans, green and co. edition by david price, email ccx @coventry.ac.uk custom and myth to e. b. tylor, author of 'primitive culture,' these studies of the oldest stories are dedicated. introduction. though some of the essays in this volume have appeared in various serials, the majority of them were written expressly for their present purpose, and they are now arranged in a designed order. during some years of study of greek, indian, and savage mythologies, i have become more and more impressed with a sense of the inadequacy of the prevalent method of comparative mythology. that method is based on the belief that myths are the result of a disease of language, as the pearl is the result of a disease of the oyster. it is argued that men at some period, or periods, spoke in a singular style of coloured and concrete language, and that their children retained the phrases of this language after losing hold of the original meaning. the consequence was the growth of myths about supposed persons, whose names had originally been mere 'appellations.' in conformity with this hypothesis the method of comparative mythology examines the proper names which occur in myths. the notion is that these names contain a key to the meaning of the story, and that, in fact, of the story the names are the germs and the oldest surviving part. the objections to this method are so numerous that it is difficult to state them briefly. the attempt, however, must be made. to desert the path opened by the most eminent scholars is in itself presumptuous; the least that an innovator can do is to give his reasons for advancing in a novel direction. if this were a question of scholarship merely, it would be simply foolhardy to differ from men like max muller, adalbert kuhn, breal, and many others. but a revolutionary mythologist is encouraged by finding that these scholars usually differ from each other. examples will be found chiefly in the essays styled 'the myth of cronus,' 'a far- travelled tale,' and 'cupid and psyche.' why, then, do distinguished scholars and mythologists reach such different goals? clearly because their method is so precarious. they all analyse the names in myths; but, where one scholar decides that the name is originally sanskrit, another holds that it is purely greek, and a third, perhaps, is all for an accadian etymology, or a semitic derivation. again, even when scholars agree as to the original root from which a name springs, they differ as much as ever as to the meaning of the name in its present place. the inference is, that the analysis of names, on which the whole edifice of philological 'comparative mythology' rests, is a foundation of shifting sand. the method is called 'orthodox,' but, among those who practise it, there is none of the beautiful unanimity of orthodoxy. these objections are not made by the unscholarly anthropologist alone. curtius has especially remarked the difficulties which beset the 'etymological operation' in the case of proper names. 'peculiarly dubious and perilous is mythological etymology. are we to seek the sources of the divine names in aspects of nature, or in moral conceptions; in special greek geographical conditions, or in natural circumstances which are everywhere the same: in dawn with her rays, or in clouds with their floods; are we to seek the origin of the names of heroes in things historical and human, or in physical phenomena?' { a} professor tiele, of leyden, says much the same thing: 'the uncertainties are great, and there is a constant risk of taking mere jeux d'esprit for scientific results.' { b} every name has, if we can discover or conjecture it, a meaning. that meaning--be it 'large' or 'small,' 'loud' or 'bright,' 'wise' or 'dark,' 'swift' or 'slow'--is always capable of being explained as an epithet of the sun, or of the cloud, or of both. whatever, then, a name may signify, some scholars will find that it originally denoted the cloud, if they belong to one school, or the sun or dawn, if they belong to another faction. obviously this process is a mere jeu d'esprit. this logic would be admitted in no other science, and, by similar arguments, any name whatever might be shown to be appropriate to a solar hero. the scholarly method has now been applied for many years, and what are the results? the ideas attained by the method have been so popularised that they are actually made to enter into the education of children, and are published in primers and catechisms of mythology. but what has a discreet scholar to say to the whole business? 'the difficult task of interpreting mythical names has, so far, produced few certain results'--so writes otto schrader. { } though schrader still has hopes of better things, it is admitted that the present results are highly disputable. in england, where one set of these results has become an article of faith, readers chiefly accept the opinions of a single etymological school, and thus escape the difficulty of making up their minds when scholars differ. but differ scholars do, so widely and so often, that scarcely any solid advantages have been gained in mythology from the philological method. the method of philological mythology is thus discredited by the disputes of its adherents. the system may be called orthodox, but it is an orthodoxy which alters with every new scholar who enters the sacred enclosure. even were there more harmony, the analysis of names could throw little light on myths. in stories the names may well be, and often demonstrably are, the latest, not the original, feature. tales, at first told of 'somebody,' get new names attached to them, and obtain a new local habitation, wherever they wander. 'one of the leading personages to be met in the traditions of the world is really no more than--somebody. there is nothing this wondrous creature cannot achieve; one only restriction binds him at all--that the name he assumes shall have some sort of congruity with the office he undertakes, _and even from this he oftentimes breaks loose_.' { } we may be pretty sure that the adventures of jason, perseus, oedipous, were originally told only of 'somebody.' the names are later additions, and vary in various lands. a glance at the essay on 'cupid and psyche' will show that a history like theirs is known, where neither they nor their counterparts in the veda, urvasi and pururavas, were ever heard of; while the incidents of the jason legend are familiar where no greek word was ever spoken. finally, the names in common use among savages are usually derived from natural phenomena, often from clouds, sky, sun, dawn. if, then, a name in a myth can be proved to mean cloud, sky, sun, or what not (and usually one set of scholars find clouds, where others see the dawn), we must not instantly infer that the myth is a nature-myth. though, doubtless, the heroes in it were never real people, the names are as much common names of real people in the savage state, as smith and brown are names of civilised men. for all these reasons, but chiefly because of the fact that stories are usually anonymous at first, that names are added later, and that stories naturally crystallise round any famous name, heroic, divine, or human, the process of analysis of names is most precarious and untrustworthy. a story is told of zeus: zeus means sky, and the story is interpreted by scholars as a sky myth. the modern interpreter forgets, first, that to the myth-maker sky did not at all mean the same thing as it means to him. sky meant, not an airy, infinite, radiant vault, but a person, and, most likely, a savage person. secondly, the interpreter forgets that the tale (say the tale of zeus, demeter, and the mutilated ram) may have been originally anonymous, and only later attributed to zeus, as unclaimed jests are attributed to sheridan or talleyrand. consequently no heavenly phenomena will be the basis and explanation of the story. if one thing in mythology be certain, it is that myths are always changing masters, that the old tales are always being told with new names. where, for example, is the value of a philological analysis of the name of jason? as will be seen in the essay 'a far-travelled tale,' the analysis of the name of jason is fanciful, precarious, disputed, while the essence of his myth is current in samoa, finland, north america, madagascar, and other lands, where the name was never heard, and where the characters in the story have other names or are anonymous. for these reasons, and others too many to be adduced here, i have ventured to differ from the current opinion that myths must be interpreted chiefly by philological analysis of names. the system adopted here is explained in the first essay, called 'the method of folklore.' the name, folklore, is not a good one, but 'comparative mythology' is usually claimed exclusively by the philological interpreters. the second essay, 'the bull-roarer,' is intended to show that certain peculiarities in the greek mysteries occur also in the mysteries of savages, and that on greek soil they are survivals of savagery. 'the myth of cronus' tries to prove that the first part of the legend is a savage nature-myth, surviving in greek religion, while the sequel is a set of ideas common to savages. 'cupid and psyche' traces another aryan myth among savage races, and attempts to show that the myth may have had its origin in a rule of barbarous etiquette. 'a far-travelled tale' examines a part of the jason myth. this myth appears neither to be an explanation of natural phenomena (like part of the myth of cronus), nor based on a widespread custom (like cupid and psyche.) the question is asked whether the story may have been diffused by slow filtration from race to race all over the globe, as there seems no reason why it should have been invented separately (as a myth explanatory of natural phenomena or of customs might be) in many different places. 'apollo and the mouse' suggests hypothetically, as a possible explanation of the tie between the god and the beast, that apollo-worship superseded, but did not eradicate, totemism. the suggestion is little more than a conjecture. 'star myths' points out that greek myths of stars are a survival from the savage stage of fancy in which such stories are natural. 'moly and mandragora' is a study of the greek, the modern, and the hottentot folklore of magical herbs, with a criticism of a scholarly and philological hypothesis, according to which moly is the dog-star, and circe the moon. 'the kalevala' is an account of the finnish national poem; of all poems that in which the popular, as opposed to the artistic, spirit is strongest. the kalevala is thus a link between marchen and volkslieder on one side, and epic poetry on the other. 'the divining rod' is a study of a european and civilised superstition, which is singular in its comparative lack of copious savage analogues. 'hottentot mythology' is a criticism of the philological method, applied to savage myth. 'fetichism and the infinite,' is a review of mr. max muller's theory that a sense of the infinite is the germ of religion, and that fetichism is secondary, and a corruption. this essay also contains a defence of the _evidence_ on which the anthropological method relies. the remaining essays are studies of the 'history of the family,' and of 'savage art.' the essay on 'savage art' is reprinted, by the kind permission of messrs. cassell & co., from two numbers (april and may, ) of the magazine of art. i have to thank the editors and publishers of the contemporary review, the cornhill magazine, and fraser's magazine, for leave to republish 'the early history of the family,' 'the divining rod,' and 'star myths,' and 'the kalevala.' a few sentences in 'the bull-roarer,' and 'hottentot mythology,' appeared in essays in the saturday review, and some lines of 'the method of folklore' in the guardian. to the editors of those journals also i owe thanks for their courteous permission to make this use of my old articles. to mr. e. b. tylor and mr. w. r. s. ralston i must express my gratitude for the kindness with which they have always helped me in all difficulties. i must apologise for the controversial matter in the volume. controversy is always a thing to be avoided, but, in this particular case, when a system opposed to the prevalent method has to be advocated, controversy is unavoidable. my respect for the learning of my distinguished adversaries is none the less great because i am not convinced by their logic, and because my doubts are excited by their differences. perhaps, it should be added, that these essays are, so to speak, only flint-flakes from a neolithic workshop. this little book merely skirmishes (to change the metaphor) in front of a much more methodical attempt to vindicate the anthropological interpretation of myths. but lack of leisure and other causes make it probable that my 'key to all mythologies' will go the way of mr. casaubon's treatise. the method of folklore. after the heavy rain of a thunderstorm has washed the soil, it sometimes happens that a child, or a rustic, finds a wedge-shaped piece of metal or a few triangular flints in a field or near a road. there was no such piece of metal, there were no such flints, lying there yesterday, and the finder is puzzled about the origin of the objects on which he has lighted. he carries them home, and the village wisdom determines that the wedge-shaped piece of metal is a 'thunderbolt,' or that the bits of flint are 'elf-shots,' the heads of fairy arrows. such things are still treasured in remote nooks of england, and the 'thunderbolt' is applied to cure certain maladies by its touch. as for the fairy arrows, we know that even in ancient etruria they were looked on as magical, for we sometimes see their points set, as amulets, in the gold of etruscan necklaces. in perugia the arrowheads are still sold as charms. all educated people, of course, have long been aware that the metal wedge is a celt, or ancient bronze axe-head, and that it was not fairies, but the forgotten peoples of this island who used the arrows with the tips of flint. thunder is only so far connected with them that the heavy rains loosen the surface soil, and lay bare its long hidden secrets. there is a science, archaeology, which collects and compares the material relics of old races, the axes and arrow-heads. there is a form of study, folklore, which collects and compares the similar but immaterial relics of old races, the surviving superstitions and stories, the ideas which are in our time but not of it. properly speaking, folklore is only concerned with the legends, customs, beliefs, of the folk, of the people, of the classes which have least been altered by education, which have shared least in progress. but the student of folklore soon finds that these unprogressive classes retain many of the beliefs and ways of savages, just as the hebridean people use spindle-whorls of stone, and bake clay pots without the aid of the wheel, like modern south sea islanders, or like their own prehistoric ancestors. { a} the student of folklore is thus led to examine the usages, myths, and ideas of savages, which are still retained, in rude enough shape, by the european peasantry. lastly, he observes that a few similar customs and ideas survive in the most conservative elements of the life of educated peoples, in ritual, ceremonial, and religious traditions and myths. though such remains are rare in england, we may note the custom of leading the dead soldier's horse behind his master to the grave, a relic of days when the horse would have been sacrificed. { b} we may observe the persistence of the ceremony by which the monarch, at his coronation, takes his seat on the sacred stone of scone, probably an ancient fetich stone. not to speak, here, of our own religious traditions, the old vein of savage rite and belief is found very near the surface of ancient greek religion. it needs but some stress of circumstance, something answering to the storm shower that reveals the flint arrow-heads, to bring savage ritual to the surface of classical religion. in sore need, a human victim was only too likely to be demanded; while a feast-day, or a mystery, set the greeks dancing serpent-dances or bear-dances like red indians, or swimming with sacred pigs, or leaping about in imitation of wolves, or holding a dog-feast, and offering dog's flesh to the gods. { } thus the student of folklore soon finds that he must enlarge his field, and examine, not only popular european story and practice, but savage ways and ideas, and the myths and usages of the educated classes in civilised races. in this extended sense the term 'folklore' will frequently be used in the following essays. the idea of the writer is that mythology cannot fruitfully be studied apart from folklore, while some knowledge of anthropology is required in both sciences. the science of folklore, if we may call it a science, finds everywhere, close to the surface of civilised life, the remains of ideas as old as the stone elf-shots, older than the celt of bronze. in proverbs and riddles, and nursery tales and superstitions, we detect the relics of a stage of thought, which is dying out in europe, but which still exists in many parts of the world. now, just as the flint arrow-heads are scattered everywhere, in all the continents and isles, and everywhere are much alike, and bear no very definite marks of the special influence of race, so it is with the habits and legends investigated by the student of folklore. the stone arrow-head buried in a scottish cairn is like those which were interred with algonquin chiefs. the flints found in egyptian soil, or beside the tumulus on the plain of marathon, nearly resemble the stones which tip the reed arrow of the modern samoyed. perhaps only a skilled experience could discern, in a heap of such arrow-heads, the specimens which are found in america or africa from those which are unearthed in europe. even in the products of more advanced industry, we see early pottery, for example, so closely alike everywhere that, in the british museum, mexican vases have, ere now, been mixed up on the same shelf with archaic vessels from greece. in the same way, if a superstition or a riddle were offered to a student of folklore, he would have much difficulty in guessing its _provenance_, and naming the race from which it was brought. suppose you tell a folklorist that, in a certain country, when anyone sneezes, people say 'good luck to you,' the student cannot say a priori what country you refer to, what race you have in your thoughts. it may be florida, as florida was when first discovered; it may be zululand, or west africa, or ancient rome, or homeric greece, or palestine. in all these, and many other regions, the sneeze was welcomed as an auspicious omen. the little superstition is as widely distributed as the flint arrow-heads. just as the object and use of the arrow-heads became intelligible when we found similar weapons in actual use among savages, so the salutation to the sneezer becomes intelligible when we learn that the savage has a good reason for it. he thinks the sneeze expels an evil spirit. proverbs, again, and riddles are as universally scattered, and the wolufs puzzle over the same devinettes as the scotch schoolboy or the breton peasant. thus, for instance, the wolufs of senegal ask each other, 'what flies for ever, and rests never?'--answer, 'the wind.' 'who are the comrades that always fight, and never hurt each other?'--'the teeth.' in france, as we read in the 'recueil de calembours,' the people ask, 'what runs faster than a horse, crosses water, and is not wet?'--answer, 'the sun.' the samoans put the riddle, 'a man who stands between two ravenous fishes?'--answer, 'the tongue between the teeth.' again, 'there are twenty brothers, each with a hat on his head?'--answer, 'fingers and toes, with nails for hats.' this is like the french 'un pere a douze fils?'--'l'an.' a comparison of m. rolland's 'devinettes' with the woluf conundrums of boilat, the samoan examples in turner's' samoa,' and the scotch enigmas collected by chambers, will show the identity of peasant and savage humour. a few examples, less generally known, may be given to prove that the beliefs of folklore are not peculiar to any one race or stock of men. the first case is remarkable: it occurs in mexico and ceylon--nor are we aware that it is found elsewhere. in macmillan's magazine { } is published a paper by mrs. edwards, called 'the mystery of the pezazi.' the events described in this narrative occurred on august , , in a bungalow some thirty miles from badiella. the narrator occupied a new house on an estate called allagalla. her native servants soon asserted that the place was haunted by a pezazi. the english visitors saw and heard nothing extraordinary till a certain night: an abridged account of what happened then may be given in the words of mrs. edwards:-- wrapped in dreams, i lay on the night in question tranquilly sleeping, but gradually roused to a perception that discordant sounds disturbed the serenity of my slumber. loth to stir, i still dozed on, the sounds, however, becoming, as it seemed, more determined to make themselves heard; and i awoke to the consciousness that they proceeded from a belt of adjacent jungle, and resembled the noise that would be produced by some person felling timber. shutting my ears to the disturbance, i made no sign, until, with an expression of impatience, e--- suddenly started up, when i laid a detaining grasp upon his arm, murmuring that there was no need to think of rising at present--it must be quite early, and the kitchen cooly was doubtless cutting fire-wood in good time. e--- responded, in a tone of slight contempt, that no one could be cutting fire-wood at that hour, and the sounds were more suggestive of felling jungle; and he then inquired how long i had been listening to them. now thoroughly aroused, i replied that i had heard the sounds for some time, at first confusing them with my dreams, but soon sufficiently awakening to the fact that they were no mere phantoms of my imagination, but a reality. during our conversation the noises became more distinct and loud; blow after blow resounded, as of the axe descending upon the tree, followed by the crash of the falling timber. renewed blows announced the repetition of the operations on another tree, and continued till several were devastated. it is unnecessary to tell more of the tale. in spite of minute examinations and close search, no solution of the mystery of the noises, on this or any other occasion, was ever found. the natives, of course, attributed the disturbance to the pezazi, or goblin. no one, perhaps, has asserted that the aztecs were connected by ties of race with the people of ceylon. yet, when the spaniards conquered mexico, and when sahagun (one of the earliest missionaries) collected the legends of the people, he found them, like the cingalese, strong believers in the mystic tree-felling. we translate sahagun's account of the 'midnight axe':-- when so any man heareth the sound of strokes in the night, as if one were felling trees, he reckons it an evil boding. and this sound they call youaltepuztli (youalli, night; and tepuztli, copper), which signifies 'the midnight hatchet.' this noise cometh about the time of the first sleep, when all men slumber soundly, and the night is still. the sound of strokes smitten was first noted by the temple-servants, called tlamacazque, at the hour when they go in the night to make their offering of reeds or of boughs of pine, for so was their custom, and this penance they did on the neighbouring hills, and that when the night was far spent. whenever they heard such a sound as one makes when he splits wood with an axe (a noise that may be heard afar off), they drew thence an omen of evil, and were afraid, and said that the sounds were part of the witchery of tezeatlipoca, that often thus dismayeth men who journey in the night. now, when tidings of these things came to a certain brave man, one exercised in war, he drew near, being guided by the sound, till he came to the very cause of the hubbub. and when he came upon it, with difficulty he caught it, for the thing was hard to catch: natheless at last he overtook that which ran before him; and behold, it was a man without a heart, and, on either side of the chest, two holes that opened and shut, and so made the noise. then the man put his hand within the breast of the figure and grasped the breast and shook it hard, demanding some grace or gift. as a rule, the grace demanded was power to make captives in war. the curious coincidence of the 'midnight axe,' occurring in lands so remote as ceylon and mexico, and the singular attestation by an english lady of the actual existence of the disturbance, makes this youaltepuztli one of the quaintest things in the province of the folklorist. but, whatever the cause of the noise, or of the beliefs connected with the noise, may be, no one would explain them as the result of community of _race_ between cingalese and aztecs. nor would this explanation be offered to account for the aztec and english belief that the creaking of furniture is an omen of death in a house. obviously, these opinions are the expression of a common state of superstitious fancy, not the signs of an original community of origin. let us take another piece of folklore. all north-country english folk know the kernababy. the custom of the 'kernababy' is commonly observed in england, or, at all events, in scotland, where the writer has seen many a kernababy. the last gleanings of the last field are bound up in a rude imitation of the human shape, and dressed in some tag-rags of finery. the usage has fallen into the conservative hands of children, but of old 'the maiden' was a regular image of the harvest goddess, which, with a sickle and sheaves in her arms, attended by a crowd of reapers, and accompanied with music, followed the last carts home to the farm. { } it is odd enough that the 'maiden' should exactly translate [greek], the old sicilian name of the daughter of demeter. 'the maiden' has dwindled, then, among us to the rudimentary kernababy; but ancient peru had her own maiden, her harvest goddess. here it is easy to trace the natural idea at the basis of the superstitious practice which links the shores of the pacific with our own northern coast. just as a portion of the yule-log and of the christmas bread were kept all the year through, a kind of nest-egg of plenteous food and fire, so the kernababy, english or peruvian, is an earnest that corn will not fail all through the year, till next harvest comes. for this reason the kernababy used to be treasured from autumn's end to autumn's end, though now it commonly disappears very soon after the harvest home. it is thus that acosta describes, in grimston's old translation ( ), the peruvian kernababy and the peruvian harvest home:-- this feast is made comming from the chacra or farme unto the house, saying certaine songs, and praying that the mays (maize) may long continue, the which they call mama cora. what a chance this word offers to etymologists of the old school: how promptly they would recognise, in mama mother--[greek], and in cora--[greek], the mother and the maiden, the feast of demeter and persephone! however, the days of that old school of antiquarianism are numbered. to return to the peruvian harvest home:-- they take a certaine portion of the most fruitefull of the mays that growes in their farmes, the which they put in a certaine granary which they do calle pirua, with certaine ceremonies, watching three nightes; they put this mays in the richest garments they have, and, being thus wrapped and dressed, they worship this pirua, and hold it in great veneration, saying it is the mother of the mays of their inheritances, and that by this means the mays augments and is preserved. in this moneth they make a particular sacrifice, and the witches demand of this pirua, 'if it hath strength sufficient to continue until the next yeare,' and if it answers 'no,' then they carry this mays to the farme to burne, whence they brought it, according to every man's power, then they make another pirua, with the same ceremonies, saying that they renue it, to the ende that the seede of the mays may not perish. the idea that the maize can speak need not surprise us; the mexican held much the same belief, according to sahagun:-- it was thought that if some grains of maize fell on the ground, he who saw them lying there was bound to lift them, wherein, if he failed, he harmed the maize, which plained itself of him to god, saying, 'lord, punish this man, who saw me fallen and raised me not again; punish him with famine, that he may learn not to hold me in dishonour.' well, in all this affair of the scotch kernababy, and the peruvian mama cora, we need no explanation beyond the common simple ideas of human nature. we are not obliged to hold, either that the peruvians and scotch are akin by blood, nor that, at some forgotten time, they met each other, and borrowed each other's superstitions. again, when we find odysseus sacrificing a black sheep to the dead, { } and when we read that the ovahereroes in south africa also appease with a black sheep the spirits of the departed, we do not feel it necessary to hint that the ovahereroes are of greek descent, or have borrowed their ritual from the greeks. the connection between the colour black, and mourning for the dead, is natural and almost universal. examples like these might be adduced in any number. we might show how, in magic, negroes of barbadoes make clay effigies of their enemies, and pierce them, just as greeks did in plato's time, or the men of accad in remotest antiquity. we might remark the australian black putting sharp bits of quartz in the tracks of an enemy who has gone by, that the enemy may be lamed; and we might point to boris godunof forbidding the same practice among the russians. we might watch scotch, and australians, and jews, and french, and aztecs spreading dust round the body of a dead man, that the footprints of his ghost, or of other ghosts, may be detected next morning. we might point to a similar device in a modern novel, where the presence of a ghost is suspected, as proof of the similar workings of the australian mind and of the mind of mrs. riddell. we shall later turn to ancient greece, and show how the serpent-dances, the habit of smearing the body with clay, and other odd rites of the mysteries, were common to hellenic religion, and to the religion of african, australian, and american tribes. now, with regard to all these strange usages, what is the method of folklore? the method is, when an apparently irrational and anomalous custom is found in any country, to look for a country where a similar practice is found, and where the practice is no longer irrational and anomalous, but in harmony with the manners and ideas of the people among whom it prevails. that greeks should dance about in their mysteries with harmless serpents in their hands looks quite unintelligible. when a wild tribe of red indians does the same thing, as a trial of courage, with real rattlesnakes, we understand the red man's motives, and may conjecture that similar motives once existed among the ancestors of the greeks. our method, then, is to compare the seemingly meaningless customs or manners of civilised races with the similar customs and manners which exist among the uncivilised and still retain their meaning. it is not necessary for comparison of this sort that the uncivilised and the civilised race should be of the same stock, nor need we prove that they were ever in contact with each other. similar conditions of mind produce similar practices, apart from identity of race, or borrowing of ideas and manners. let us return to the example of the flint arrowheads. everywhere neolithic arrow-heads are pretty much alike. the cause of the resemblance is no more than this, that men, with the same needs, the same materials, and the same rude instruments, everywhere produced the same kind of arrow-head. no hypothesis of interchange of ideas nor of community of race is needed to explain the resemblance of form in the missiles. very early pottery in any region is, for the same causes, like very early pottery in any other region. the same sort of similarity was explained by the same resemblances in human nature, when we touched on the identity of magical practices and of superstitious beliefs. this method is fairly well established and orthodox when we deal with usages and superstitious beliefs; but may we apply the same method when we deal with myths? here a difficulty occurs. mythologists, as a rule, are averse to the method of folklore. they think it scientific to compare only the myths of races which speak languages of the same family, and of races which have, in historic times, been actually in proved contact with each other. thus, most mythologists hold it correct to compare greek, slavonic, celtic, and indian stories, because greeks, slavs, celts, and hindoos all speak languages of the same family. again, they hold it correct to compare chaldaean and greek myths, because the greeks and the chaldaeans were brought into contact through the phoenicians, and by other intermediaries, such as the hittites. but the same mythologists will vow that it is unscientific to compare a maori or a hottentot or an eskimo myth with an aryan story, because maoris and eskimo and hottentots do not speak languages akin to that of greece, nor can we show that the ancestors of greeks, maoris, hottentots, and eskimo were ever in contact with each other in historical times. now the peculiarity of the method of folklore is that it will venture to compare (with due caution and due examination of evidence) the myths of the most widely severed races. holding that myth is a product of the early human fancy, working on the most rudimentary knowledge of the outer world, the student of folklore thinks that differences of race do not much affect the early mythopoeic faculty. he will not be surprised if greeks and australian blacks are in the same tale. in each case, he holds, all the circumstances of the case must be examined and considered. for instance, when the australians tell a myth about the pleiades very like the greek myth of the pleiades, we must ask a number of questions. is the australian version authentic? can the people who told it have heard it from a european? if these questions are answered so as to make it apparent that the australian pleiad myth is of genuine native origin, we need not fly to the conclusion that the australians are a lost and forlorn branch of the aryan race. two other hypotheses present themselves. first, the human species is of unknown antiquity. in the moderate allowance of , years, there is time for stories to have wandered all round the world, as the aggry beads of ashanti have probably crossed the continent from egypt, as the asiatic jade (if asiatic it be) has arrived in swiss lake-dwellings, as an african trade-cowry is said to have been found in a cornish barrow, as an indian ocean shell has been discovered in a prehistoric bone-cave in poland. this slow filtration of tales is not absolutely out of the question. two causes would especially help to transmit myths. the first is slavery and slave-stealing, the second is the habit of capturing brides from alien stocks, and the law which forbids marriage with a woman of a man's own family. slaves and captured brides would bring their native legends among alien peoples. but there is another possible way of explaining the resemblance (granting that it is proved) of the greek and australian pleiad myth. the object of both myths is to account for the grouping and other phenomena of the constellations. may not similar explanatory stories have occurred to the ancestors of the australians, and to the ancestors of the greeks, however remote their home, while they were still in the savage condition? the best way to investigate this point is to collect all known savage and civilised stellar myths, and see what points they have in common. if they all agree in character, though the greek tales are full of grace, while those of the australians or brazilians are rude enough, we may plausibly account for the similarity of myths, as we accounted for the similarity of flint arrow-heads. the myths, like the arrow-heads, resemble each other because they were originally framed to meet the same needs out of the same material. in the case of the arrow-heads, the need was for something hard, heavy, and sharp--the material was flint. in the case of the myths, the need was to explain certain phenomena--the material (so to speak) was an early state of the human mind, to which all objects seemed equally endowed with human personality, and to which no metamorphosis appeared impossible. in the following essays, then, the myths and customs of various peoples will be compared, even when these peoples talk languages of alien families, and have never (as far as history shows us) been in actual contact. our method throughout will be to place the usage, or myth, which is unintelligible when found among a civilised race, beside the similar myth which is intelligible enough when it is found among savages. a mean term will be found in the folklore preserved by the non-progressive classes in a progressive people. this folklore represents, in the midst of a civilised race, the savage ideas out of which civilisation has been evolved. the conclusion will usually be that the fact which puzzles us by its presence in civilisation is a relic surviving from the time when the ancestors of a civilised race were in the state of savagery. by this method it is not necessary that 'some sort of genealogy should be established' between the australian and the greek narrators of a similar myth, nor between the greek and australian possessors of a similar usage. the hypothesis will be that the myth, or usage, is common to both races, not because of original community of stock, not because of contact and borrowing, but because the ancestors of the greeks passed through the savage intellectual condition in which we find the australians. the questions may be asked, has race nothing, then, to do with myth? do peoples never consciously borrow myths from each other? the answer is, that race has a great deal to do with the development of myth, if it be race which confers on a people its national genius, and its capacity of becoming civilised. if race does this, then race affects, in the most powerful manner, the ultimate development of myth. no one is likely to confound a homeric myth with a myth from the edda, nor either with a myth from a brahmana, though in all three cases the substance, the original set of ideas, may be much the same. in all three you have anthropomorphic gods, capable of assuming animal shapes, tricky, capricious, limited in many undivine ways, yet endowed with magical powers. so far the mythical gods of homer, of the edda, of any of the brahmanas, are on a level with each other, and not much above the gods of savage mythology. this stuff of myth is quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus, and is the original gift of the savage intellect. but the final treatment, the ultimate literary form of the myth, varies in each race. homeric gods, like red indian, thlinkeet, or australian gods, can assume the shapes of birds. but when we read, in homer, of the arming of athene, the hunting of artemis, the vision of golden aphrodite, the apparition of hermes, like a young man when the flower of youth is loveliest, then we recognise the effect of race upon myth, the effect of the greek genius at work on rude material. between the olympians and a thlinkeet god there is all the difference that exists between the demeter of cnidos and an image from easter island. again, the scandinavian gods, when their tricks are laid aside, when odin is neither assuming the shape of worm nor of raven, have a martial dignity, a noble enduring spirit of their own. race comes out in that, as it does in the endless sacrifices, soma drinking, magical austerities, and puerile follies of vedic and brahmanic gods, the deities of a people fallen early into its sacerdotage and priestly second childhood. thus race declares itself in the ultimate literary form and character of mythology, while the common savage basis and stuff of myths may be clearly discerned in the horned, and cannibal, and shape-shifting, and adulterous gods of greece, of india, of the north. they all show their common savage origin, when the poet neglects freya's command and tells of what the gods did 'in the morning of time.' as to borrowing, we have already shown that in prehistoric times there must have been much transmission of myth. the migrations of peoples, the traffic in slaves, the law of exogamy, which always keeps bringing alien women into the families--all these things favoured the migration of myth. but the process lies behind history: we can only guess at it, we can seldom trace a popular legend on its travels. in the case of the cultivated ancient peoples, we know that they themselves believed they had borrowed their religions from each other. when the greeks first found the egyptians practising mysteries like their own, they leaped to the conclusion that their own rites had been imported from egypt. we, who know that both greek and egyptian rites had many points in common with those of mandans, zunis, bushmen, australians--people quite unconnected with egypt--feel less confident about the hypothesis of borrowing. we may, indeed, regard adonis, and zeus bagaeus, and melicertes, as importations from phoenicia. in later times, too, the greeks, and still more the romans, extended a free hospitality to alien gods and legends, to serapis, isis, the wilder dionysiac revels, and so forth. but this habit of borrowing was regarded with disfavour by pious conservatives, and was probably, in the width of its hospitality at least, an innovation. as tiele remarks, we cannot derive dionysus from the assyrian daian nisi, 'judge of men,' a name of the solar god samas, without ascertaining that the wine-god exercised judicial functions, and was a god of the sun. these derivations, 'shocking to common sense,' are to be distrusted as part of the intoxication of new learning. some assyrian scholars actually derive hades from bit edi or bit hadi--'though, unluckily,' says tiele, 'there is no such word in the assyrian text.' on the whole topic tiele's essay { } deserves to be consulted. granting, then, that elements in the worship of dionysus, aphrodite, and other gods, may have been imported with the strange aegypto-assyrian vases and jewels of the sidonians, we still find the same basis of rude savage ideas. we may push back a god from greece to phoenicia, from phoenicia to accadia, but, at the end of the end, we reach a legend full of myths like those which bushmen tell by the camp-fire, eskimo in their dark huts, and australians in the shade of the gunyeh--myths cruel, puerile, obscene, like the fancies of the savage myth-makers from which they sprang. the bull-roarer. a study of the mysteries. as the belated traveller makes his way through the monotonous plains of australia, through the bush, with its level expanses and clumps of grey- blue gum trees, he occasionally hears a singular sound. beginning low, with a kind of sharp tone thrilling through a whirring noise, it grows louder and louder, till it becomes a sort of fluttering windy roar. if the traveller be a new comer, he is probably puzzled to the last degree. if he be an englishman, country-bred, he says to himself, 'why, that is the bull-roarer.' if he knows the colony and the ways of the natives, he knows that the blacks are celebrating their tribal mysteries. the roaring noise is made to warn all women to keep out of the way. just as pentheus was killed (with the approval of theocritus) because he profaned the rites of the women-worshippers of dionysus, so, among the australian blacks, men must, at their peril, keep out of the way of female, and women out of the way of male, celebrations. the instrument which produces the sounds that warn women to remain afar is a toy familiar to english country lads. they call it the bull-roarer. the common bull-roarer is an inexpensive toy which anyone can make. i do not, however, recommend it to families, for two reasons. in the first place, it produces a most horrible and unexampled din, which endears it to the very young, but renders it detested by persons of mature age. in the second place, the character of the toy is such that it will almost infallibly break all that is fragile in the house where it is used, and will probably put out the eyes of some of the inhabitants. having thus, i trust, said enough to prevent all good boys from inflicting bull-roarers on their parents, pastors, and masters, i proceed (in the interests of science) to show how the toy is made. nothing can be less elaborate. you take a piece of the commonest wooden board, say the lid of a packing-case, about a sixth of an inch in thickness, and about eight inches long and three broad, and you sharpen the ends. when finished, the toy may be about the shape of a large bay-leaf, or a 'fish' used as a counter (that is how the new zealanders make it), or the sides may be left plain in the centre, and only sharpened towards the extremities, as in an australian example lent me by mr. tylor. then tie a strong piece of string, about thirty inches long, to one end of the piece of wood and the bull-roarer (the australian natives call it turndun, and the greeks called it [greek]) is complete. now twist the end of the string tightly about your finger, and whirl the bull-roarer rapidly round and round. for a few moments nothing will happen. in a very interesting lecture delivered at the royal institution, mr. tylor once exhibited a bull-roarer. at first it did nothing particular when it was whirled round, and the audience began to fear that the experiment was like those chemical ones often exhibited at institutes in the country, which contribute at most a disagreeable odour to the education of the populace. but when the bull-roarer warmed to its work, it justified its name, producing what may best be described as a mighty rushing noise, as if some supernatural being 'fluttered and buzzed his wings with fearful roar.' grown-up people, of course, are satisfied with a very brief experience of this din, but boys have always known the bull-roarer in england as one of the most efficient modes of making the hideous and unearthly noises in which it is the privilege of youth to delight. the bull-roarer has, of all toys, the widest diffusion, and the most extraordinary history. to study the bull-roarer is to take a lesson in folklore. the instrument is found among the most widely severed peoples, savage and civilised, and is used in the celebration of savage and civilised mysteries. there are students who would found on this a hypothesis that the various races that use the bull-roarer all descend from the same stock. but the bull roarer is introduced here for the very purpose of showing that similar minds, working with simple means towards similar ends, might evolve the bull-roarer and its mystic uses anywhere. there is no need for a hypothesis of common origin, or of borrowing, to account for this widely diffused sacred object. the bull-roarer has been, and is, a sacred and magical instrument in many and widely separated lands. it is found, always as a sacred instrument, employed in religious mysteries, in new mexico, in australia, in new zealand, in ancient greece, and in africa; while, as we have seen, it is a peasant-boy's plaything in england. a number of questions are naturally suggested by the bull-roarer. is it a thing invented once for all, and carried abroad over the world by wandering races, or handed on from one people and tribe to another? or is the bull-roarer a toy that might be accidentally hit on in any country where men can sharpen wood and twist the sinews of animals into string? was the thing originally a toy, and is its religious and mystical nature later; or was it originally one of the properties of the priest, or medicine-man, which in england has dwindled to a plaything? lastly, was this mystical instrument at first employed in the rites of a civilised people like the greeks, and was it in some way borrowed or inherited by south africans, australians, and new mexicans? or is it a mere savage invention, surviving (like certain other features of the greek mysteries) from a distant stage of savagery? our answer to all these questions is that in all probability the presence of the [greek], or bull-roarer, in greek mysteries was a survival from the time when greeks were in the social condition of australians. in the first place, the bull-roarer is associated with mysteries and initiations. now mysteries and initiations are things that tend to dwindle and to lose their characteristic features as civilisation advances. the rites of baptism and confirmation are not secret and hidden; they are common to both sexes, they are publicly performed, and religion and morality of the purest sort blend in these ceremonies. there are no other initiations or mysteries that civilised modern man is expected necessarily to pass through. on the other hand, looking widely at human history, we find mystic rites and initiations numerous, stringent, severe, and magical in character, in proportion to the lack of civilisation in those who practise them. the less the civilisation, the more mysterious and the more cruel are the rites. the more cruel the rites, the less is the civilisation. the red-hot poker with which mr. bouncer terrified mr. verdant green at the sham masonic rites would have been quite in place, a natural instrument of probationary torture, in the freemasonry of australians, mandans, or hottentots. in the mysteries of demeter or bacchus, in the mysteries of a civilised people, the red-hot poker, or any other instrument of torture, would have been out of place. but in the greek mysteries, just as in those of south africans, red indians, and australians, the disgusting practice of bedaubing the neophyte with dirt and clay was preserved. we have nothing quite like that in modern initiations. except at sparta, greeks dropped the tortures inflicted on boys and girls in the initiations superintended by the cruel artemis. { } but greek mysteries retained the daubing with mud and the use of the bull-roarer. on the whole, then, and on a general view of the subject, we prefer to think that the bull-roarer in greece was a survival from savage mysteries, not that the bull-roarer in new mexico, new zealand, australia, and south africa is a relic of civilisation. let us next observe a remarkable peculiarity of the turndun, or australian bull-roarer. the bull-roarer in england is a toy. in australia, according to howitt and fison, { } the bull-roarer is regarded with religious awe. 'when, on lately meeting with two of the surviving kurnai, i spoke to them of the turndun, they first looked cautiously round them to see that no one else was looking, and then answered me in undertones.' the chief peculiarity in connection with the turndun is that women may never look upon it. the chepara tribe, who call it bribbun, have a custom that, 'if seen by a woman, or shown by a man to a woman, the punishment to both is _death_.' among the kurnai, the sacred mystery of the turndun is preserved by a legend, which gives a supernatural sanction to secrecy. when boys go through the mystic ceremony of initiation they are shown turnduns, or bull-roarers, and made to listen to their hideous din. they are then told that, if ever a woman is allowed to see a turndun, the earth will open, and water will cover the globe. the old men point spears at the boy's eyes, saying: 'if you tell this to any woman you will die, you will see the ground broken up and like the sea; if you tell this to any woman, or to any child, you will be killed!' as in athens, in syria, and among the mandans, the deluge-tradition of australia is connected with the mysteries. in gippsland there is a tradition of the deluge. 'some children of the kurnai in playing about found a turndun, which they took home to the camp and showed the women. immediately the earth crumbled away, and it was all water, and the kurnai were drowned.' in consequence of all this mummery the australian women attach great sacredness to the very name of the turndun. they are much less instructed in their own theology than the men of the tribe. one woman believed she had heard pundjel, the chief supernatural being, descend in a mighty rushing noise, that is, in the sound of the turndun, when boys were being 'made men,' or initiated. { } on turnduns the australian sorcerers can fly up to heaven. turnduns carved with imitations of water- flowers are used by medicine-men in rain-making. new zealand also has her bull-roarers; some of them, carved in relief, are in the christy museum, and one is engraved here. i have no direct evidence as to the use of these maori bull-roarers in the maori mysteries. their employment, however, may perhaps be provisionally inferred. one can readily believe that the new zealand bull-roarer may be whirled by any man who is repeating a karakia, or 'charm to raise the wind':-- loud wind, lasting wind, violent whistling wind, dig up the calm reposing sky, come, come. in new zealand { a} 'the natives regarded the wind as an indication of the presence of their god,' a superstition not peculiar to maori religion. the 'cold wind' felt blowing over the hands at spiritualistic seances is also regarded (by psychical researchers) as an indication of the presence of supernatural beings. the windy roaring noise made by the bull-roarer might readily be considered by savages, either as an invitation to a god who should present himself in storm, or as a proof of his being at hand. we have seen that this view was actually taken by an australian woman. the hymn called 'breath,' or haha, a hymn to the mystic wind, is pronounced by maori priests at the moment of the initiation of young men in the tribal mysteries. it is a mere conjecture, and possibly enough capable of disproof, but we have a suspicion that the use of the mystica vannus iacchi was a mode of raising a sacred wind analogous to that employed by whirlers of the turndun. { b} servius, the ancient commentator on virgil, mentions, among other opinions, this--that the vannus was a sieve, and that it symbolised the purifying effect of the mysteries. but it is clear that servius was only guessing; and he offers other explanations, among them that the vannus was a crate to hold offerings, primitias frugum. we have studied the bull-roarer in australia, we have caught a glimpse of it in england. its existence on the american continent is proved by letters from new mexico, and by a passage in mr. frank cushing's 'adventures in zuni.' { } in zuni, too, among a semi-civilised indian tribe, or rather a tribe which has left the savage for the barbaric condition, we find the bull-roarer. here, too, the instrument--a 'slat,' mr. gushing calls it--is used as a call to the ceremonial observance of the tribal ritual. the zunis have various 'orders of a more or less sacred and sacerdotal character.' mr. cushing writes:-- these orders were engaged in their annual ceremonials, of which little was told or shown me; but, at the end of four days, i heard one morning a _deep whirring noise_. running out, i saw a procession of three priests of the bow, in plumed helmets and closely-fitting cuirasses, both of thick buckskin--gorgeous and solemn with sacred embroideries and war-paint, begirt with bows, arrows, and war-clubs, and each distinguished by his badge of degree--coming down one of the narrow streets. the principal priest carried in his arms a wooden idol, ferocious in aspect, yet beautiful with its decorations of shell, turquoise, and brilliant paint. it was nearly hidden by symbolic slats and prayer-sticks most elaborately plumed. he was preceded by a guardian with drawn bow and arrows, while another followed, _twirling the sounding slat_, which had attracted alike my attention and that of hundreds of the indians, who hurriedly flocked to the roofs of the adjacent houses, or lined the street, bowing their heads in adoration, and scattering sacred prayer-meal on the god and his attendant priests. slowly they wound their way down the hill, across the river, and off toward the mountain of thunder. soon an identical procession followed and took its way toward the western hills. i watched them long until they disappeared, and a few hours afterward there arose from the top of 'thunder mountain' a dense column of smoke, simultaneously with another from the more distant western mesa of 'u-ha-na-mi,' or 'mount of the beloved.' then they told me that for four days i must neither touch nor eat flesh or oil of any kind, and for ten days neither throw any refuse from my doors, nor permit a spark to leave my house, for 'this was the season of the year when the "grandmother of men" (fire) was precious.' here then, in zuni, we have the bull-roarer again, and once more we find it employed as a summons to the mysteries. we do not learn, however, that women in zuni are forbidden to look upon the bull-roarer. finally, the south african evidence, which is supplied by letters from a correspondent of mr. tylor's, proves that in south africa, too, the bull- roarer is employed to call the men to the celebration of secret functions. a minute description of the instrument, and of its magical power to raise a wind, is given in theal's 'kaffir folklore,' p. . the bull-roarer has not been made a subject of particular research; very probably later investigations will find it in other parts of the modern world besides america, africa, new zealand, and australia. i have myself been fortunate enough to encounter the bull-roarer on the soil of ancient greece and in connection with the dionysiac mysteries. clemens of alexandria, and arnobius, an early christian father who follows clemens, describe certain toys of the child dionysus which were used in the mysteries. among these are _turbines_, [greek], and [greek]. the ordinary dictionaries interpret all these as whipping-tops, adding that [greek] is sometimes 'a magic wheel.' the ancient scholiast on clemens, however, writes: 'the [greek] is a little piece of wood, to which a string is fastened, and in the mysteries it is whirled round to make a roaring noise.' { } here, in short, we have a brief but complete description of the bull-roarer of the australian turndun. no single point is omitted. the [greek], like the turndun, is a small object of wood, it is tied to a string, when whirled round it produces a roaring noise, and it is used at initiations. this is not the end of the matter. in the part of the dionysiac mysteries at which the toys of the child dionysus were exhibited, and during which (as it seems) the [greek], or bull-roarer, was whirred, the performers daubed themselves all over with clay. this we learn from a passage in which demosthenes describes the youth of his hated adversary, aeschines. the mother of aeschines, he says, was a kind of 'wise woman,' and dabbler in mysteries. aeschines used to aid her by bedaubing the initiate over with clay and bran. { a} the word [greek], here used by demosthenes, is explained by harpocration as the ritual term for daubing the initiated. a story was told, as usual, to explain this rite. it was said that, when the titans attacked dionysus and tore him to pieces, they painted themselves first with clay, or gypsum, that they might not be recognised. nonnus shows, in several places, that down to his time the celebrants of the bacchic mysteries retained this dirty trick. precisely the same trick prevails in the mysteries of savage peoples. mr. winwood reade { b} reports the evidence of mongilomba. when initiated, mongilomba was 'severely flogged in the fetich house' (as young spartans were flogged before the animated image of artemis), and then he was 'plastered over with goat-dung.' among the natives of victoria, { c} the 'body of the initiated is bedaubed with clay, mud, charcoal powder, and filth of every kind.' the girls are plastered with charcoal powder and white clay, answering to the greek gypsum. similar daubings were performed at the mysteries by the mandans, as described by catlin; and the zunis made raids on mr. cushing's black paint and chinese ink for like purposes. on the congo, mr. johnson found precisely the same ritual in the initiations. here, then, not to multiply examples, we discover two singular features in common between greek and savage mysteries. both greeks and savages employ the bull-roarer, both bedaub the initiated with dirt or with white paint or chalk. as to the meaning of the latter very un-aryan practice, one has no idea. it is only certain that war parties of australian blacks bedaub themselves with white clay to alarm their enemies in night attacks. the phocians, according to herodotus (viii. ), adopted the same 'aisy stratagem,' as captain costigan has it. tellies, the medicine-man ([greek]), chalked some sixty phocians, whom he sent to make a night attack on the thessalians. the sentinels of the latter were seized with supernatural horror, and fled, 'and after the sentinels went the army.' in the same way, in a night attack among the australian kurnai, { a} 'they all rapidly painted themselves with pipe-clay: red ochre is no use, it cannot frighten an enemy.' if, then, greeks in the historic period kept up australian tactics, it is probable that the ancient mysteries of greece might retain the habit of daubing the initiated which occurs in savage rites. 'come now,' as herodotus would say, 'i will show once more that the mysteries of the greeks resemble those of bushmen.' in lucian's treatise on dancing, { b} we read, 'i pass over the fact that you cannot find a single ancient mystery in which there is not dancing. . . . to prove this i will not mention the secret acts of worship, on account of the uninitiated. but this much all men know, that most people say of those who reveal the mysteries, that they "dance them out."' here liddell and scott write, rather weakly, 'to dance out, let out, betray, probably of some dance which burlesqued these ceremonies.' it is extremely improbable that, in an age when it was still forbidden to reveal the [greek], or secret rites, those rites would be mocked in popular burlesques. lucian obviously intends to say that the matter of the mysteries was set forth in ballets d'action. now this is exactly the case in the surviving mysteries of the bushmen. shortly after the rebellion of langalibalele's tribe, mr. orpen, the chief magistrate in st. john's territory, made the acquaintance of qing, one of the last of an all but exterminated tribe. qing 'had never seen a white man, except fighting,' when he became mr. orpen's guide. he gave a good deal of information about the myths of his people, but refused to answer certain questions. 'you are now asking the secrets that are not spoken of.' mr. orpen asked, 'do you know the secrets?' qing replied, 'no, only the initiated men of that dance know these things.' to 'dance' this or that means, 'to be acquainted with this or that mystery;' the dances were originally taught by cagn, the mantis, or grasshopper god. in many mysteries, qing, as a young man, was not initiated. he could not 'dance them out.' { } there are thus undeniably close resemblances between the greek mysteries and those of the lowest contemporary races. as to the bull-roarer, its recurrence among greeks, zunis, kamilaroi, maoris, and south african races, would be regarded, by some students, as a proof that all these tribes had a common origin, or had borrowed the instrument from each other. but this theory is quite unnecessary. the bull-roarer is a very simple invention. anyone might find out that a bit of sharpened wood, tied to a string, makes, when whirred, a roaring noise. supposing that discovery made, it is soon turned to practical use. all tribes have their mysteries. all want a signal to summon the right persons together and warn the wrong persons to keep out of the way. the church bell does as much for us, so did the shaken seistron for the egyptians. people with neither bells nor seistra find the bull-roarer, with its mysterious sound, serve their turn. the hiding of the instrument from women is natural enough. it merely makes the alarm and absence of the curious sex doubly sure. the stories of supernatural consequences to follow if a woman sees the turndun lend a sanction. this is not a random theory, without basis. in brazil, the natives have no bull-roarer, but they have mysteries, and the presence of the women at the mysteries of the men is a terrible impiety. to warn away the women, the brazilians make loud 'devil-music' on what are called 'jurupari pipes.' now, just as in australia, _the women may not see the jurupari pipes on pain of death_. when the sound of the jurupari pipes is heard, as when the turndun is heard in australia, every woman flees and hides herself. the women are always executed if they see the pipes. mr. alfred wallace bought a pair of these pipes, but he had to embark them at a distance from the village where they were procured. the seller was afraid that some unknown misfortune would occur if the women of his village set eyes on the juruparis. { } the conclusion from all these facts seems obvious. the bull-roarer is an instrument easily invented by savages, and easily adopted into the ritual of savage mysteries. if we find the bull-roarer used in the mysteries of the most civilised of ancient peoples, the most probable explanation is, that the greeks retained both the mysteries, the bull-roarer, the habit of bedaubing the initiate, the torturing of boys, the sacred obscenities, the antics with serpents, the dances, and the like, from the time when their ancestors were in the savage condition. that more refined and religious ideas were afterwards introduced into the mysteries seems certain, but the rites were, in many cases, simply savage. unintelligible (except as survivals) when found among hellenes, they become intelligible enough among savages, because they correspond to the intellectual condition and magical fancies of the lower barbarism. the same sort of comparison, the same kind of explanation, will account, as we shall see, for the savage myths as well as for the savage customs which survived among the greeks. the myth of cronus. in a maori pah, when a little boy behaves rudely to his parents, he is sometimes warned that he is 'as bad as cruel tutenganahau.' if he asks who tutenganahau was, he is told the following story:-- 'in the beginning, the heaven, rangi, and the earth, papa, were the father and mother of all things. "in these days the heaven lay upon the earth, and all was darkness. they had never been separated." heaven and earth had children, who grew up and lived in this thick night, and they were unhappy because they could not see. between the bodies of their parents they were imprisoned, and there was no light. the names of the children were tumatuenga, tane mahuta, tutenganahau, and some others. so they all consulted as to what should be done with their parents, rangi and papa. "shall we slay them, or shall we separate them?" "go to," said tumatuenga, "let us slay them." "no," cried tane mahuta, "let us rather separate them. let one go upwards, and become a stranger to us; let the other remain below, and be a parent to us." only tawhiri matea (the wind) had pity on his own father and mother. then the fruit-gods, and the war-god, and the sea-god (for all the children of papa and rangi were gods) tried to rend their parents asunder. last rose the forest- god, cruel tutenganahau. he severed the sinews which united heaven and earth, rangi and papa. then he pushed hard with his head and feet. then wailed heaven and exclaimed earth, "wherefore this murder? why this great sin? why destroy us? why separate us?" but tane pushed and pushed: rangi was driven far away into the air. "_they became visible, who had hitherto been concealed between the hollows of their parents' breasts_." only the storm-god differed from his brethren: he arose and followed his father, rangi, and abode with him in the open spaces of the sky.' this is the maori story of the severing of the wedded heaven and earth. the cutting of them asunder was the work of tutenganahau and his brethren, and the conduct of tutenganahau is still held up as an example of filial impiety. { a} the story is preserved in sacred hymns of very great antiquity, and many of the myths are common to the other peoples of the pacific. { b} now let us turn from new zealand to athens, as she was in the days of pericles. socrates is sitting in the porch of the king archon, when euthyphro comes up and enters into conversation with the philosopher. after some talk, euthyphro says, 'you will think me mad when i tell you whom i am prosecuting and pursuing!' 'why, has the fugitive wings?' asks socrates. 'nay, he is not very volatile at his time of life!' 'who is he?' 'my father.' 'good heavens! you don't mean that. what is he accused of?' 'murder, socrates.' then euthyphro explains the case, which quaintly illustrates greek civilisation. euthyphro's father had an agricultural labourer at naxos. one day this man, in a drunken passion, killed a slave. euthyphro's father seized the labourer, bound him, threw him into a ditch, 'and then sent to athens to ask a diviner what should be done with him.' before the answer of the diviner arrived, the labourer literally 'died in a ditch' of hunger and cold. for this offence, euthyphro was prosecuting his own father. socrates shows that he disapproves, and euthyphro thus defends the piety of his own conduct: 'the impious, whoever he may be, ought not to go unpunished. for do not men regard zeus as the best and most righteous of gods? yet even they admit that zeus bound his own father cronus, because he wickedly devoured his sons; and that cronus, too, had punished his own father, uranus, for a similar reason, in a nameless manner. and yet when _i_ proceed against _my_ father, people are angry with me. this is their inconsistent way of talking, when the gods are concerned, and when i am concerned.' here socrates breaks in. he 'cannot away with these stories about the gods,' and so he has just been accused of impiety, the charge for which he died. socrates cannot believe that a god, cronus, mutilated his father uranus, but euthyphro believes the whole affair: 'i can tell you many other things about the gods which would quite amaze you.' { } * * * * * we have here a typical example of the way in which mythology puzzled the early philosophers of greece. socrates was anxious to be pious, and to respect the most ancient traditions of the gods. yet at the very outset of sacred history he was met by tales of gods who mutilated and bound their own parents. not only were such tales hateful to him, but they were of positively evil example to people like euthyphro. the problem remained, how did the fathers of the athenians ever come to tell such myths? * * * * * let us now examine the myth of cronus, and the explanations which have been given by scholars. near the beginning of things, according to hesiod (whose cosmogony was accepted in greece), earth gave birth to heaven. later, heaven, uranus, became the husband of gaea, earth. just as rangi and papa, in new zealand, had many children, so had uranus and gaea. as in new zealand, some of these children were gods of the various elements. among them were oceanus, the deep, and hyperion, the sun--as among the children of earth and heaven, in new zealand, were the wind and the sea. the youngest child of the greek heaven and earth was 'cronus of crooked counsel, who ever hated his mighty sire.' now even as the children of the maori heaven and earth were 'concealed between the hollows of their parents' breasts,' so the greek heaven used to 'hide his children from the light in the hollows of earth.' both earth and her children resented this, and, as in new zealand, the children conspired against heaven, taking earth, however, into their counsels. thereupon earth produced iron, and bade her children avenge their wrongs. { a} now fear fell on all of them, except cronus, who, like tutenganahau, was all for action. cronus determined to end the embraces of heaven and earth. but, while the maori myth conceives of heaven and earth as of two beings which have never been separated before, hesiod makes heaven amorously approach his wife from a distance. then cronus stretched out his hand, armed with a sickle of iron, or steel, and mutilated uranus. thus were heaven and earth practically divorced. but as in the maori myth one of the children of heaven clave to his sire, so, in greek, oceanus remained faithful to his father. { b} this is the first portion of the myth of cronus. can it be denied that the story is well illustrated and explained by the new zealand parallel, the myth of the cruelty of tutenganahau? by means of this comparison, the meaning of the myth is made clear enough. just as the new zealanders had conceived of heaven and earth as at one time united, to the prejudice of their children, so the ancestors of the greeks had believed in an ancient union of heaven and earth. both by greeks and maoris, heaven and earth were thought of as living persons, with human parts and passions. their union was prejudicial to their children, and so the children violently separated the parents. this conduct is regarded as impious, and as an awful example to be avoided, in maori pahs. in naxos, on the other hand, euthyphro deemed that the conduct of cronus deserved imitation. if ever the maoris had reached a high civilisation, they would probably have been revolted, like socrates, by the myth which survived from their period of savagery. mr. tylor well says, { a} 'just as the adzes of polished jade, and the cloaks of tied flax-fibre, which these new zealanders were using but yesterday, are older in their place in history than the bronze battle-axes and linen mummy-cloths of ancient egypt, so the maori poet's shaping of nature into nature-myth belongs to a stage of intellectual history which was passing away in greece five-and- twenty centuries ago. the myth-maker's fancy of heaven and earth as father and mother of all things naturally suggested the legend that they in old days abode together, but have since been torn asunder.' * * * * * that this view of heaven and earth is natural to early minds, mr. tylor proves by the presence of the myth of the union and violent divorce of the pair in china. { b} puang-ku is the chinese cronus, or tutenganahau. in india, { c} dyaus and prithivi, heaven and earth, were once united, and were severed by indra, their own child. this, then, is our interpretation of the exploit of cronus. it is an old surviving nature-myth of the severance of heaven and earth, a myth found in china, india, new zealand, as well as in greece. of course it is not pretended that chinese and maoris borrowed from indians and greeks, or came originally of the same stock. similar phenomena, presenting themselves to be explained by human minds in a similar stage of fancy and of ignorance, will account for the parallel myths. the second part of the myth of cronus was, like the first, a stumbling- block to the orthodox in greece. of the second part we offer no explanation beyond the fact that the incidents in the myth are almost universally found among savages, and that, therefore, in greece they are probably survivals from savagery. the sequel of the myth appears to account for nothing, as the first part accounts for the severance of heaven and earth. in the sequel a world-wide marchen, or tale, seems to have been attached to cronus, or attracted into the cycle of which he is centre, without any particular reason, beyond the law which makes detached myths crystallise round any celebrated name. to look further is, perhaps, chercher raison ou il n'y en a pas. the conclusion of the story of cronus runs thus:--he wedded his sister, rhea, and begat children--demeter, hera, hades, poseidon, and, lastly, zeus. 'and mighty cronus swallowed down each of them, each that came to their mother's knees from her holy womb, with this intent, that none other of the proud children of uranus should hold kingly sway among the immortals.' cronus showed a ruling father's usual jealousy of his heirs. it was a case of friedrich wilhelm and friedrich. but cronus (acting in a way natural in a story perhaps first invented by cannibals) swallowed his children instead of merely imprisoning them. heaven and earth had warned him to beware of his heirs, and he could think of no safer plan than that which he adopted. when rhea was about to become the mother of zeus, she fled to crete. here zeus was born, and when cronus (in pursuit of his usual policy) asked for the baby, he was presented with a stone wrapped up in swaddling bands. after swallowing the stone, cronus was easy in his mind; but zeus grew up, administered a dose to his father, and compelled him to disgorge. 'the stone came forth first, as he had swallowed it last.' { a} the other children also emerged, all alive and well. zeus fixed the stone at delphi, where, long after the christian era, pausanias saw it. { b} it was not a large stone, pausanias tells us, and the delphians used to anoint it with oil and wrap it up in wool on feast-days. all greek temples had their fetich-stones, and each stone had its legend. this was the story of the delphian stone, and of the fetichism which survived the early years of christianity. a very pretty story it is. savages more frequently smear their fetich-stones with red paint than daub them with oil, but the latter, as we learn from theophrastus's account of the 'superstitious man,' was the greek ritual. * * * * * this anecdote about cronus was the stumbling-block of the orthodox greek, the jest of the sceptic, and the butt of the early christian controversialists. found among bushmen or australians the narrative might seem rather wild, but it astonishes us still more when it occurs in the holy legends of greece. our explanation of its presence there is simple enough. like the erratic blocks in a modern plain, like the flint- heads in a meadow, the story is a relic of a very distant past. the glacial age left the boulders on the plain, the savage tribes of long ago left the arrowheads, the period of savage fancy left the story of cronus and the rites of the fetich-stone. similar rites are still notoriously practised in the south sea islands, in siberia, in india and africa and melanesia, by savages. and by savages similar tales are still told. * * * * * we cannot go much lower than the bushmen, and among bushman divine myths is room for the 'swallowing trick' attributed to cronus by hesiod. the chief divine character in bushman myth is the mantis insect. his adopted daughter is the child of kwai hemm, a supernatural character, 'the all- devourer.' the mantis gets his adopted daughter to call the swallower to his aid; but kwai hemm swallows the mantis, the god-insect. as zeus made his own wife change herself into an insect, for the convenience of swallowing her, there is not much difference between bushman and early greek mythology. kwai hemm is killed by a stratagem, and all the animals whom he has got outside of, in a long and voracious career, troop forth from him alive and well, like the swallowed gods from the maw of cronus. { a} now, story for story, the bushman version is much less offensive than that of hesiod. but the bushman story is just the sort of story we expect from bushmen, whereas the hesiodic story is not at all the kind of tale we look for from greeks. the explanation is, that the greeks had advanced out of a savage state of mind and society, but had retained their old myths, myths evolved in the savage stage, and in harmony with that condition of fancy. among the kaffirs { b} we find the same 'swallow-myth.' the igongqongqo swallows all and sundry; a woman cuts the swallower with a knife, and 'people came out, and cattle, and dogs.' in australia, a god is swallowed. as in the myth preserved by aristophanes in the 'birds,' the australians believe that birds were the original gods, and the eagle, especially, is a great creative power. the moon was a mischievous being, who walked about the world, doing what evil he could. one day he swallowed the eagle-god. the wives of the eagle came up, and the moon asked them where he might find a well. they pointed out a well, and, as he drank, they hit the moon with a stone tomahawk, and out flew the eagle. { c} this is oddly like grimm's tale of 'the wolf and the kids.' the wolf swallowed the kids, their mother cut a hole in the wolf, let out the kids, stuffed the wolf with stones, and sewed him up again. the wolf went to the well to drink, the weight of the stones pulled him in, and he was drowned. similar stories are common among the red indians, and mr. im thurn has found them in guiana. how savages all over the world got the idea that men and beasts could be swallowed and disgorged alive, and why they fashioned the idea into a divine myth, it is hard to say. mr. tylor, in 'primitive culture,' { a} adds many examples of the narrative. the basutos have it; it occurs some five times in callaway's 'zulu nursery tales.' in greenland the eskimo have a shape of the incident, and we have all heard of the escape of jonah. it has been suggested that night, covering up the world, gave the first idea of the swallowing myth. now in some of the stories the night is obviously conceived of as a big beast which swallows all things. the notion that night is an animal is entirely in harmony with savage metaphysics. in the opinion of the savage speculator, all things are men and animals. 'ils se persuadent que non seulement les hommes et les autres animaux, mais aussi que toutes les autres choses sont animees,' says one of the old jesuit missionaries in canada. { b} 'the wind was formerly a person; he became a bird,' say the bushmen. g' oo ka! kui (a very respectable bushman, whose name seems a little hard to pronounce), once saw the wind-person at haarfontein. savages, then, are persuaded that night, sky, cloud, fire, and so forth, are only the schein, or sensuous appearance, of things that, in essence, are men or animals. a good example is the bringing of night to vanua lava, by qat, the 'culture-hero' of melanesia. at first it was always day, and people tired of it. qat heard that night was at the torres islands, and he set forth to get some. qong (night) received qat well, blackened his eyebrows, showed him sleep, and sent him off with fowls to bring dawn after the arrival of night should make dawn a necessary. next day qat's brothers saw the sun crawl away west, and presently night came creeping up from the sea. 'what is this?' cried the brothers. 'it is night,' said qat; 'sit down, and when you feel something in your eyes, lie down and keep quiet.' so they went to sleep. 'when night had lasted long enough, qat took a piece of red obsidian, and cut the darkness, and the dawn came out.' { } night is more or less personal in this tale, and solid enough to be cut, so as to let the dawn out. this savage conception of night, as the swallower and disgorger, might start the notion of other swallowing and disgorging beings. again the bushmen, and other savage peoples, account for certain celestial phenomena by saying that 'a big star has swallowed his daughter, and spit her out again.' while natural phenomena, explained on savage principles, might give the data of the swallow-myth, we must not conclude that all beings to whom the story is attached are, therefore, the night. on this principle cronus would be the night, and so would the wolf in grimm. for our purposes it is enough that the feat of cronus is a feat congenial to the savage fancy and repugnant to the civilised greeks who found themselves in possession of the myth. beyond this, and beyond the inference that the cronus myth was first evolved by people to whom it seemed quite natural, that is, by savages, we do not pretend to go in our interpretation. * * * * * to end our examination of the myth of cronus, we may compare the solutions offered by scholars. as a rule, these solutions are based on the philological analysis of the names in the story. it will be seen that very various and absolutely inconsistent etymologies and meanings of cronus are suggested by philologists of the highest authority. these contradictions are, unfortunately, rather the rule than the exception in the etymological interpretation of myths. * * * * * the opinion of mr. max muller has always a right to the first hearing from english inquirers. mr. muller, naturally, examines first the name of the god whose legend he is investigating. he writes: 'there is no such being as kronos in sanskrit. kronos did not exist till long after zeus in greece. zeus was called by the greeks the son of time ([greek]). this is a very simple and very common form of mythological expression. it meant originally, not that time was the origin or source of zeus, but [greek] or [greek] was used in the sense of "connected with time, representing time, existing through all time." derivatives in -[greek] and -[greek] took, in later times, the more exclusive meaning of patronymics. . . . when this (the meaning of [greek] as equivalent to ancient of days) ceased to be understood, . . . people asked themselves the question, why is zeus called [greek]? and the natural and almost inevitable answer was, because he is the son, the offspring of a more ancient god, kronos. this may be a very old myth in greece; but the misunderstanding which gave rise to it could have happened in greece only. we cannot expect, therefore, a god kronos in the veda.' to expect greek in the veda would certainly be sanguine. 'when this myth of kronos had once been started, it would roll on irresistibly. if zeus had once a father called kronos, kronos must have a wife.' it is added, as confirmation, that 'the name of [greek] belongs originally to zeus only, and not to his later' (in hesiod elder) 'brothers, poseidon and hades.' { a} mr. muller says, in his famous essay on 'comparative mythology' { b}: 'how can we imagine that a few generations before that time' (the age of solon) 'the highest notions of the godhead among the greeks were adequately expressed by the story of uranos maimed by kronos,--of kronos eating his children, swallowing a stone, and vomiting out alive his whole progeny. among the lowest tribes of africa and america, we hardly find anything more hideous and revolting.' we have found a good deal of the sort in africa and america, where it seems not out of place. one objection to mr. muller's theory is, that it makes the mystery no clearer. when greeks were so advanced in hellenism that their own early language had become obsolete and obscure, they invented the god [greek], to account for the patronymic (as they deemed it) [greek], son of [greek]. but why did they tell such savage and revolting stories about the god they had invented? mr. muller only says the myth 'would roll on irresistibly.' but why did the rolling myth gather such very strange moss? that is the problem; and, while mr. muller's hypothesis accounts for the existence of a god called [greek], it does not even attempt to show how full-blown greeks came to believe such hideous stories about the god. * * * * * this theory, therefore, is of no practical service. the theory of adalbert kuhn, one of the most famous of sanskrit scholars, and author of 'die herabkunft des feuers,' is directly opposed to the ideas of mr. muller. in cronus, mr. muller recognises a god who could only have come into being among greeks, when the greeks had begun to forget the original meaning of 'derivatives in -[greek] and -[greek].' kuhn, on the other hand, derives [greek] from the same root as the sanskrit krana. { } krana means, it appears, der fur sich schaffende, he who creates for himself, and cronus is compared to the indian pragapati, about whom even more abominable stories are told than the myths which circulate to the prejudice of cronus. according to kuhn, the 'swallow-myth' means that cronus, the lord of light and dark powers, swallows the divinities of light. but in place of zeus (that is, according to kuhn, of the daylight sky) he swallows a stone, that is, the sun. when he disgorges the stone (the sun), he also disgorges the gods of light whom he had swallowed. i confess that i cannot understand these distinctions between the father and lord of light and dark (cronus) and the beings he swallowed. nor do i find it easy to believe that myth-making man took all those distinctions, or held those views of the creator. however, the chief thing to note is that mr. muller's etymology and kuhn's etymology of cronus can hardly both be true, which, as their systems both depend on etymological analysis, is somewhat discomfiting. the next etymological theory is the daring speculation of mr. brown. in 'the great dionysiak myth' { a} mr. brown writes: 'i regard kronos as the equivalent of karnos, karnaios, karnaivis, the horned god; assyrian, karnu; hebrew, keren, horn; hellenic, kronos, or karnos.' mr. brown seems to think that cronus is 'the ripening power of harvest,' and also 'a wily savage god,' in which opinion one quite agrees with him. why the name of cronus should mean 'horned,' when he is never represented with horns, it is hard to say. but among the various foreign gods in whom the greeks recognised their own cronus, one hea, 'regarded by berosos as kronos,' seems to have been 'horn-wearing.' { b} horns are lacking in seb and il, if not in baal hamon, though mr. brown would like to behorn them. let us now turn to preller. { a} according to preller, kronos is connected with [greek], to fulfil, to bring to completion. the harvest month, the month of ripening and fulfilment, was called [greek] in some parts of greece, and the jolly harvest-feast, with its memory of saturn's golden days, was named [greek]. the sickle of cronus, the sickle of harvest-time, works in well with this explanation, and we have a kind of pun in homer which points in the direction of preller's derivation from [greek]:-- [greek] and in sophocles ('tr.' )-- [greek]. preller illustrates the mutilation of uranus by the maori tale of tutenganahau. the child-swallowing he connects with punic and phoenician influence, and semitic sacrifices of men and children. porphyry { b} speaks of human sacrifices to cronus in rhodes, and the greeks recognised cronus in the carthaginian god to whom children were offered up. hartung { c} takes cronus, when he mutilates uranus, to be the fire of the sun, scorching the sky of spring. this, again, is somewhat out of accord with schwartz's idea, that cronus is the storm-god, the cloud-swallowing deity, his sickle the rainbow, and the blood of uranus the lightning. { d} according to prof. sayce, again, { a} the blood- drops of uranus are rain-drops. cronus is the sun-god, piercing the dark cloud, which is just the reverse of schwartz's idea. prof. sayce sees points in common between the legend of moloch, or of baal under the name of moloch, and the myth of cronus. but moloch, he thinks, is not a god of phoenician origin, but a deity borrowed from 'the primitive accadian population of babylonia.' mr. isaac taylor, again, explains cronus as the sky which swallows and reproduces the stars. the story of the sickle may be derived from the crescent moon, the 'silver sickle,' or from a crescent-shaped piece of meteoric iron--for, in this theory, the fetich- stone of delphi is a piece of that substance. * * * * * it will be observed that any one of these theories, if accepted, is much more 'minute in detail' than our humble suggestion. he who adopts any one of them, knows all about it. he knows that cronus is a purely greek god, or that he is connected with the sanskrit krana, which tiele, { b} unhappily, says is 'a very dubious word.' or the mythologist may be quite confident that cronus is neither greek nor, in any sense, sanskrit, but phoenician. a not less adequate interpretation assigns him ultimately to accadia. while the inquirer who can choose a system and stick to it knows the exact nationality of cronus, he is also well acquainted with his character as a nature-god. he may be time, or perhaps he is the summer heat, and a horned god; or he is the harvest- god, or the god of storm and darkness, or the midnight sky,--the choice is wide; or he is the lord of dark and light, and his children are the stars, the clouds, the summer months, the light-powers, or what you will. the mythologist has only to make his selection. the system according to which we tried to interpret the myth is less ondoyant et divers. we do not even pretend to explain everything. we do not guess at the meaning and root of the word cronus. we only find parallels to the myth among savages, whose mental condition is fertile in such legends. and we only infer that the myth of cronus was originally evolved by persons also in the savage intellectual condition. the survival we explain as, in a previous essay, we explained the survival of the bull-roarer by the conservatism of the religious instinct. cupid, psyche, and the 'sun-frog.' 'once upon a time there lived a king and a queen,' says the old woman in apuleius, beginning the tale of cupid and psyche with that ancient formula which has been dear to so many generations of children. in one shape or other the tale of cupid and psyche, of the woman who is forbidden to see or to name her husband, of the man with the vanished fairy bride, is known in most lands, 'even among barbarians.' according to the story the mystic prohibition is always broken: the hidden face is beheld; light is brought into the darkness; the forbidden name is uttered; the bride is touched with the tabooed metal, iron, and the union is ended. sometimes the pair are re-united, after long searchings and wanderings; sometimes they are severed for ever. such are the central situations in tales like that of cupid and psyche. in the attempt to discover how the ideas on which this myth is based came into existence, we may choose one of two methods. we may confine our investigations to the aryan peoples, among whom the story occurs both in the form of myth and of household tale. again, we may look for the shapes of the legend which hide, like peau d'ane in disguise, among the rude kraals and wigwams, and in the strange and scanty garb of savages. if among savages we find both narratives like cupid and psyche, and also customs and laws out of which the myth might have arisen, we may provisionally conclude that similar customs once existed among the civilised races who possess the tale, and that from these sprang the early forms of the myth. in accordance with the method hitherto adopted, we shall prefer the second plan, and pursue our quest beyond the limits of the aryan peoples. the oldest literary shape of the tale of psyche and her lover is found in the rig veda (x. ). the characters of a singular and cynical dialogue in that poem are named urvasi and pururavas. the former is an apsaras, a kind of fairy or sylph, the mistress (and a folle maitresse, too) of pururavas, a mortal man. { } in the poem urvasi remarks that when she dwelt among men she 'ate once a day a small piece of butter, and therewith well satisfied went away.' this slightly reminds one of the common idea that the living may not eat in the land of the dead, and of persephone's tasting the pomegranate in hades. of the dialogue in the rig veda it may be said, in the words of mr. toots, that 'the language is coarse and the meaning is obscure.' we only gather that urvasi, though she admits her sensual content in the society of pururavas, is leaving him 'like the first of the dawns'; that she 'goes home again, hard to be caught, like the winds.' she gives her lover some hope, however--that the gods promise immortality even to him, 'the kinsman of death' as he is. 'let thine offspring worship the gods with an oblation; in heaven shalt thou too have joy of the festival.' in the rig veda, then, we dimly discern a parting between a mortal man and an immortal bride, and a promise of reconciliation. the story, of which this vedic poem is a partial dramatisation, is given in the brahmana of the yajur veda. mr. max muller has translated the passage. { a} according to the brahmana, 'urvasi, a kind of fairy, fell in love with pururavas, and when she met him she said: embrace me three times a day, but never against my will, and let me never see you without your royal garments, _for this is the manner of women_.' { b} the gandharvas, a spiritual race, kinsmen of urvasi, thought she had lingered too long among men. they therefore plotted some way of parting her from pururavas. her covenant with her lord declared that she was never to see him naked. if that compact were broken she would be compelled to leave him. to make pururavas break this compact the gandharvas stole a lamb from beside urvasi's bed: pururavas sprang up to rescue the lamb, and, in a flash of lightning, urvasi saw him naked, contrary to the _manner of women_. she vanished. he sought her long, and at last came to a lake where she and her fairy friends were playing _in the shape of birds_. urvasi saw pururavas, revealed herself to him, and, according to the brahmana, part of the strange vedic dialogue was now spoken. urvasi promised to meet him on the last night of the year: a son was to be the result of the interview. next day, her kinsfolk, the gandharvas, offered pururavas the wish of his heart. he wished to be one of them. they then initiated him into the mode of kindling a certain sacred fire, after which he became immortal and dwelt among the gandharvas. it is highly characteristic of the indian mind that the story should be thus worked into connection with ritual. in the same way the bhagavata purana has a long, silly, and rather obscene narrative about the sacrifice offered by pururavas, and the new kind of sacred fire. much the same ritual tale is found in the vishnu purana (iv. , ). before attempting to offer our own theory of the legend, we must examine the explanations presented by scholars. the philological method of dealing with myths is well known. the hypothesis is that the names in a myth are 'stubborn things,' and that, as the whole narrative has probably arisen from forgetfulness of the meaning of language, the secret of a myth must be sought in analysis of the proper names of the persons. on this principle mr. max muller interprets the myth of urvasi and pururavas, their loves, separation, and reunion. mr. muller says that the story 'expresses the identity of the morning dawn and the evening twilight.' { } to prove this, the names are analysed. it is mr. muller's object to show that though, even in the veda, urvasi and pururavas are names of persons, they were originally 'appellations'; and that urvasi meant 'dawn,' and pururavas 'sun.' mr. muller's opinion as to the etymological sense of the names would be thought decisive, naturally, by lay readers, if an opposite opinion were not held by that other great philologist and comparative mythologist, adalbert kuhn. admitting that 'the etymology of urvasi is difficult,' mr. muller derives it from 'uru, wide ([greek]), and a root as = to pervade.' now the dawn is 'widely pervading,' and has, in sanskrit, the epithet uruki, 'far-going.' mr. muller next assumes that 'eurykyde,' 'eurynome,' 'eurydike,' and other heroic greek female names, are 'names of the dawn'; but this, it must be said, is merely an assumption of his school. the main point of the argument is that urvasi means 'far-going,' and that 'the far and wide splendour of dawn' is often spoken of in the veda. 'however, the best proof that urvasi was the dawn is the legend told of her and of her love to pururavas, a story that is true only of the sun and the dawn' (i. ). we shall presently see that a similar story is told of persons in whom the dawn can scarcely be recognised, so that 'the best proof' is not very good. the name of pururavas, again, is 'an appropriate name for a solar hero.' . . . pururavas meant the same as [greek], 'endowed with much light,' for, though rava is generally used of sound, yet the root ru, which means originally 'to cry,' is also applied to colour, in the sense of a loud or crying colour, that is, red. { a} violet also, according to sir g. w. cox, { b} is a loud or crying colour. 'the word ([greek]), as applied to colour, is traced by professor max muller to the root i, as denoting a "crying hue," that is, a loud colour.' it is interesting to learn that our aryan fathers spoke of 'loud colours,' and were so sensitive as to think violet 'loud.' besides, pururavas calls himself vasistha, which, as we know, is a name of the sun; and if he is called aido, the son of ida, the same name is elsewhere given { c} to agni, the fire. 'the conclusion of the argument is that antiquity spoke of the naked sun, and of the chaste dawn hiding her face when she had seen her husband. yet she says she will come again. and after the sun has travelled through the world in search of his beloved, when he comes to the threshold of death and is going to end his solitary life, she appears again, in the gloaming, the same as the dawn, as eos in homer, begins and ends the day, and she carries him away to the golden seats of the immortals.' { d} kuhn objects to all this explanation, partly on what we think the inadequate ground that there is no necessary connection between the story of urvasi (thus interpreted) and the ritual of sacred fire-lighting. connections of that sort were easily invented at random by the compilers of the brahmanas in their existing form. coming to the analysis of names, kuhn finds in urvasi 'a weakening of urvanki (uru + anc), like yuvaca from yuvanka, latin juvencus . . . the accent is of no decisive weight.' kuhn will not be convinced that pururavas is the sun, and is unmoved by the ingenious theory of 'a crying colour,' denoted by his name, and the inference, supported by such words as rufus, that crying colours are red, and therefore appropriate names of the red sun. the connection between pururavas and agni, fire, is what appeals to kuhn--and, in short, where mr. muller sees a myth of sun and dawn, kuhn recognises a fire-myth. roth, again (whose own name means _red_), far from thinking that urvasi is 'the chaste dawn,' interprets her name as die geile, that is, 'lecherous, lascivious, lewd, wanton, obscene'; while pururavas, as 'the roarer,' suggests 'the bull in rut.' in accordance with these views roth explains the myth in a fashion of his own. { a} here, then, as kuhn says, 'we have three essentially different modes of interpreting the myth,' { b} all three founded on philological analysis of the names in the story. no better example could be given to illustrate the weakness of the philological method. in the first place, that method relies on names as the primitive relics and germs of the tale, although the tale may occur where the names have never been heard, and though the names are, presumably, late additions to a story in which the characters were originally anonymous. again, the most illustrious etymologists differ absolutely about the true sense of the names. kuhn sees fire everywhere, and fire-myths; mr. muller sees dawn and dawn-myths; schwartz sees storm and storm-myths, and so on. as the orthodox teachers are thus at variance, so that there is no safety in orthodoxy, we may attempt to use our heterodox method. none of the three scholars whose views we have glanced at--neither roth, kuhn, nor mr. muller--lays stress on the saying of urvasi, 'never let me see you without your royal garments, _for this is the custom of women_.' { } to our mind, these words contain the gist of the myth. there must have been, at some time, a custom which forbade women to see their husbands without their garments, or the words have no meaning. if any custom of this kind existed, a story might well be evolved to give a sanction to the law. 'you must never see your husband naked: think what happened to urvasi--she vanished clean away!' this is the kind of warning which might be given. if the customary prohibition had grown obsolete, the punishment might well be assigned to a being of another, a spiritual, race, in which old human ideas lingered, as the neolithic dread of iron lingers in the welsh fairies. our method will be, to prove the existence of singular rules of etiquette, corresponding to the etiquette accidentally infringed by pururavas. we shall then investigate stories of the same character as that of urvasi and pururavas, in which the infringement of the etiquette is chastised. it will be seen that, in most cases, the bride is of a peculiar and perhaps supernatural race. finally, the tale of urvasi will be taken up again, will be shown to conform in character to the other stories examined, and will be explained as a myth told to illustrate, or sanction, a nuptial etiquette. the lives of savages are bound by the most closely-woven fetters of custom. the simplest acts are 'tabooed,' a strict code regulates all intercourse. married life, especially, moves in the strangest fetters. there will be nothing remarkable in the wide distribution of a myth turning on nuptial etiquette, if this law of nuptial etiquette proves to be also widely distributed. that it is widely distributed we now propose to demonstrate by examples. the custom of the african people of the kingdom of futa is, or was, even stricter than the vedic _custom of women_--'wives never permit their husbands to see them unveiled for three years after their marriage.' { } in his 'travels to timbuctoo' (i. ), caillie says that the bridegroom 'is not allowed to see his intended during the day.' he has a tabooed hut apart, and 'if he is obliged to come out he covers his face.' he 'remains with his wife only till daybreak'--like cupid--and flees, like cupid, before the light. among the australians the chief deity, if deity such a being can be called, pundjel, 'has a wife whose face he has never seen,' probably in compliance with some primaeval etiquette or taboo. { a} among the yorubas 'conventional modesty forbids a woman to speak to her husband, or even to see him, if it can be avoided.' { b} of the iroquois lafitau says: 'ils n'osent aller dans les cabanes particulieres ou habitent leurs epouses que durant l'obscurite de la nuit.' { c} the circassian women live on distant terms with their lords till they become mothers. { d} similar examples of reserve are reported to be customary among the fijians. in backward parts of europe a strange custom forbids the bride to speak to her lord, as if in memory of a time when husband and wife were always of alien tribes, and, as among the caribs, spoke different languages. in the bulgarian 'volkslied,' the sun marries grozdanka, a mortal girl. her mother addresses her thus:-- grozdanka, mother's treasure mine, for nine long years i nourished thee, for nine months see thou do not speak to thy first love that marries thee. m. dozon, who has collected the bulgarian songs, says that this custom of prolonged silence on the part of the bride is very common in bulgaria, though it is beginning to yield to a sense of the ludicrous. { a} in sparta and in crete, as is well known, the bridegroom was long the victim of a somewhat similar taboo, and was only permitted to seek the company of his wife secretly, and in the dark, like the iroquois described by lafitau. herodotus tells us (i. ) that some of the old ionian colonists 'brought no women with them, but took wives of the women of the carians, whose fathers they had slain. therefore the women made a law for themselves, and handed it down to their daughters, that they should never sit at meat with their husbands, and _that none should ever call her husband by his name_.' in precisely the same way, in zululand the wife may not mention her husband's name, just as in the welsh fairy tale the husband may not even know the name of his fairy bride, on pain of losing her for ever. these ideas about names, and freakish ways of avoiding the use of names, mark the childhood of languages, according to mr. max muller, { b} and, therefore, the childhood of society. the kaffirs call this etiquette 'hlonipa.' it applies to women as well as men. a kaffir bride is not called by her own name in her husband's village, but is spoken of as 'mother of so and so,' even before she has borne a child. the universal superstition about names is at the bottom of this custom. the aleutian islanders, according to dall, are quite distressed when obliged to speak to their wives in the presence of others. the fijians did not know where to look when missionaries hinted that a man might live under the same roof as his wife. { a} among the turkomans, for six months, a year, or two years, a husband is only allowed to visit his wife by stealth. the number of these instances could probably be increased by a little research. our argument is that the widely distributed myths in which a husband or a wife transgresses some 'custom'--sees the other's face or body, or utters the forbidden name--might well have arisen as tales illustrating the punishment of breaking the rule. by a very curious coincidence, a breton sailor's tale of the 'cupid and psyche' class is confessedly founded on the existence of the rule of nuptial etiquette. { b} in this story the son of a boulogne pilot marries the daughter of the king of naz--wherever that may be. in naz a man is never allowed to see the face of his wife till she has borne him a child--a modification of the futa rule. the inquisitive french husband unveils his wife, and, like psyche in apuleius, drops wax from a candle on her cheek. when the pair return to naz, the king of that country discovers the offence of the husband, and, by the aid of his magicians, transforms the frenchman into a monster. here we have the old formula--the infringement of a 'taboo,' and the magical punishment--adapted to the ideas of breton peasantry. the essential point of the story, for our purpose, is that the veiling of the bride is 'the custom of women,' in the mysterious land of naz. 'c'est l'usage du pays: les maris ne voient leurs femmes sans voile que lorsqu'elles sont devenues meres.' now our theory of the myth of urvasi is simply this: 'the custom of women,' which pururavas transgresses, is probably a traditional aryan law of nuptial etiquette, l'usage du pays, once prevalent among the people of india. if our view be correct, then several rules of etiquette, and not one alone, will be illustrated in the stories which we suppose the rules to have suggested. in the case of urvasi and pururavas, the rule was, not to see the husband naked. in 'cupid and psyche,' the husband was not to be looked upon at all. in the well-known myth of melusine, the bride is not to be seen naked. melusine tells her lover that she will only abide with him dum ipsam nudam non viderit. { a} the same taboo occurs in a dutch marchen. { b} we have now to examine a singular form of the myth, in which the strange bride is not a fairy, or spiritual being, but an animal. in this class of story the husband is usually forbidden to perform some act which will recall to the bride the associations of her old animal existence. the converse of the tale is the well-known legend of the forsaken merman. the king of the sea permits his human wife to go to church. the ancient sacred associations are revived, and the woman returns no more. she will not come though you call all day come away, come away. now, in the tales of the animal bride, it is her associations with her former life among the beasts that are not to be revived, and when they are reawakened by the commission of some act which she has forbidden, or the neglect of some precaution which she has enjoined, she, like urvasi, disappears. * * * * * the best known example of this variant of the tale is the story of bheki, in sanskrit. mr. max muller has interpreted the myth in accordance with his own method. { } his difficulty is to account for the belief that a king might marry a frog. our ancestors, he remarks, 'were not idiots,' how then could they tell such a story? we might reply that our ancestors, if we go far enough back, were savages, and that such stories are the staple of savage myth. mr. muller, however, holds that an accidental corruption of language reduced aryan fancy to the savage level. he explains the corruption thus: 'we find, in sanskrit, that bheki, the frog, was a beautiful girl, and that one day, when sitting near a well, she was discovered by a king, who asked her to be his wife. she consented, _on condition that he should never show her a drop of water_. one day, being tired, she asked the king for water; the king forgot his promise, brought water, and bheki disappeared.' this myth, mr. muller holds, 'began with a short saying, such as that "bheki, the sun, will die at the sight of water," as we should say that the sun will set, when it approaches the water from which it rose in the morning.' but how did the sun come to be called bheki, 'the frog'? mr. muller supposes that this name was given to the sun by some poet or fisherman. he gives no evidence for the following statement: 'it can be shown that "frog" was used as a name for the sun. now at sunrise and sunset, when the sun was squatting on the water, it was called the "frog."' at what historical period the sanskrit-speaking race was settled in seats where the sun rose and set in water, we do not know, and 'chapter and verse' are needed for the statement that 'frog' was actually a name of the sun. mr. muller's argument, however, is that the sun was called 'the frog,' that people forgot that the frog and sun were identical, and that frog, or bheki, was mistaken for the name of a girl to whom was applied the old saw about dying at sight of water. 'and so,' says mr. muller, 'the change from sun to frog, and from frog to man, which was at first due to the mere spell of language, would in our nursery tales be ascribed to miraculous charms more familiar to a later age.' as a matter of fact, magical metamorphoses are infinitely more familiar to the lowest savages than to people in a 'later age.' magic, as castren observes, 'belongs to the lowest known stages of civilisation.' mr. muller's theory, however, is this--that a sanskrit-speaking people, living where the sun rose out of and set in some ocean, called the sun, as he touched the water, bheki, the frog, and said he would die at the sight of water. they ceased to call the sun the frog, or bheki, but kept the saying, 'bheki will die at sight of water.' not knowing who or what bheki might be, they took her for a frog, who also was a pretty wench. lastly, they made the story of bheki's distinguished wedding and mysterious disappearance. for this interpretation, historical and linguistic evidence is not offered. when did a sanskrit-speaking race live beside a great sea? how do we know that 'frog' was used as a name for 'sun'? * * * * * we have already given our explanation. to the savage intellect, man and beast are on a level, and all savage myth makes men descended from beasts; while stories of the loves of gods in bestial shape, or the unions of men and animals, incessantly occur. 'unnatural' as these notions seem to us, no ideas are more familiar to savages, and none recur more frequently in indo-aryan, scandinavian, and greek mythology. an extant tribe in north-west america still claims descent from a frog. the wedding of bheki and the king is a survival, in sanskrit, of a tale of this kind. lastly, bheki disappears, when her associations with her old amphibious life are revived in the manner she had expressly forbidden. * * * * * our interpretation may be supported by an ojibway parallel. a hunter named otter-heart, camping near a beaver lodge, found a pretty girl loitering round his fire. she keeps his wigwam in order, and 'lays his blanket near the deerskin she had laid for herself. "good," he muttered, "this is my wife."' she refuses to eat the beavers he has shot, but at night he hears a noise, 'krch, krch, as if beavers were gnawing wood.' he sees, by the glimmer of the fire, his wife nibbling birch twigs. in fact, the good little wife is a beaver, as the pretty indian girl was a frog. the pair lived happily till spring came and the snow melted and the streams ran full. then his wife implored the hunter to build her a bridge over every stream and river, that she might cross dry-footed. 'for,' she said, 'if my feet touch water, this would at once cause thee great sorrow.' the hunter did as she bade him, but left unbridged one tiny runnel. the wife stumbled into the water, and, as soon as her foot was wet, she immediately resumed her old shape as a beaver, her son became a beaverling, and the brooklet, changing to a roaring river, bore them to the lake. once the hunter saw his wife again among her beast kin. 'to thee i sacrificed all,' she said, 'and i only asked thee to help me dry-footed over the waters. thou didst cruelly neglect this. now i must remain for ever with my people.' * * * * * this tale was told to kohl by 'an old insignificant squaw among the ojibways.' { a} here we have a precise parallel to the tale of bheki, the frog-bride, and here the reason of the prohibition to touch water is made perfectly unmistakable. the touch magically revived the bride's old animal life with the beavers. or was the indian name for beaver (temakse) once a name for the sun? { b} a curious variant of this widely distributed marchen of the animal bride is found in the mythical genealogy of the raja of chutia nagpur, a chief of the naga, or snake race. it is said that raja janameja prepared a yajnya, or great malevolently magical incantation, to destroy all the people of the serpent race. to prevent this annihilation, the supernatural being, pundarika nag, took a human form, and became the husband of the beautiful parvati, daughter of a brahman. but pundarika nag, being a serpent by nature, could not divest himself, even in human shape, of his forked tongue and venomed breath. and, just as urvasi could not abide with her mortal lover, after he transgressed the prohibition to appear before her naked, so pundarika nag was compelled by fate to leave his bride, if she asked him any questions about his disagreeable peculiarities. she did, at last, ask questions, in circumstances which made pundarika believe that he was bound to answer her. now the curse came upon him, he plunged into a pool, like the beaver, and vanished. his wife became the mother of the serpent rajas of chutia nagpur. pundarika nag, in his proper form as a great hooded snake, guarded his first-born child. the crest of the house is a hooded snake with human face. { a} here, then, we have many examples of the disappearance of the bride or bridegroom in consequence of infringement of various mystic rules. sometimes the beloved one is seen when he or she should not be seen. sometimes, as in a maori story, the bride vanishes, merely because she is in a bad temper. { b} among the red men, as in sanskrit, the taboo on water is broken, with the usual results. now for an example in which the rule against using _names_ is infringed. { a} this formula constantly occurs in the welsh fairy tales published by professor rhys. { b} thus the heir of corwrion fell in love with a fairy: 'they were married on the distinct understanding that the husband was not to know her name, . . . and was not to strike her with iron, on pain of her leaving him at once.' unluckily the man once tossed her a bridle, the iron bit touched the wife, and 'she at once flew through the air, and plunged headlong into corwrion lake.' a number of tales turning on the same incident are published in 'cymmrodor,' v. i. in these we have either the taboo on the name, or the taboo on the touch of iron. in a widely diffused superstition iron 'drives away devils and ghosts,' according to the scholiast on the eleventh book of the 'odyssey,' and the oriental djinn also flee from iron. { c} just as water is fatal to the aryan frog-bride and to the red indian beaver-wife, restoring them to their old animal forms, so the magic touch of iron breaks love between the welshman and his fairy mistress, the representative of the stone age. in many tales of fairy-brides, they are won by a kind of force. the lover in the familiar welsh and german marchen sees the swan-maidens throw off their swan plumage and dance naked.. he steals the feather- garb of one of them, and so compels her to his love. finally, she leaves him, in anger, or because he has broken some taboo. far from being peculiar to aryan mythology, this legend occurs, as mr. farrer has shown, { a} in algonquin and bornoese tradition. the red indian story told by schoolcraft in his 'algic researches' is most like the aryan version, but has some native peculiarities. wampee was a great hunter, who, on the lonely prairie, once heard strains of music. looking up he saw a speck in the sky: the speck drew nearer and nearer, and proved to be a basket containing twelve heavenly maidens. they reached the earth and began to dance, inflaming the heart of wampee with love. but wampee could not draw near the fairy girls in his proper form without alarming them. like zeus in his love adventures, wampee exercised the medicine-man's power of metamorphosing himself. he assumed the form of a mouse, approached unobserved, and caught one of the dancing maidens. after living with wampee for some time she wearied of earth, and, by virtue of a 'mystic chain of verse,' she ascended again to her heavenly home. now is there any reason to believe that this incident was once part of the myth of pururavas and urvasi? was the fairy-love, urvasi, originally caught and held by pururavas among her naked and struggling companions? though this does not appear to have been much noticed, it seems to follow from a speech of pururavas in the vedic dialogue { b} (x. , , ). mr. max muller translates thus: 'when i, the mortal, threw my arms round those flighty immortals, they trembled away from me like a trembling doe, like horses that kick against the cart.' { a} ludwig's rendering suits our view--that pururavas is telling how he first caught urvasi--still better: 'when i, the mortal, held converse with the immortals who had laid aside their raiment, like slippery serpents they glided from me, like horses yoked to the car.' these words would well express the adventure of a lover among the naked flying swan-maidens, an adventure familiar to the red men as to persian legends of the peris. to end our comparison of myths like the tale of 'cupid and psyche,' we find an example among the zulus. here { b} the mystic lover came in when all was dark, and felt the damsel's face. after certain rites, 'in the morning he went away, he speaking continually, the girl not seeing him. during all those days he would not allow the girl (sic), when she said she would light a fire. finally, after a magical ceremony, he said, "light the fire!" and stood before her revealed, a shining shape.' this has a curious resemblance to the myth of cupid and psyche; but a more curious detail remains. in the zulu story of ukcombekcansini, the friends of a bride break a taboo and kill a tabooed animal. instantly, like urvasi and her companions in the yajur veda, the bride and her maidens disappear _and are turned into birds_! { c} they are afterwards surprised in human shape, and the bride is restored to her lover. here we conclude, having traced parallels to cupid and psyche in many non- aryan lands. our theory of the myth does not rest on etymology. we have seen that the most renowned scholars, max muller, kuhn, roth, all analyse the names urvasi and pururavas in different ways, and extract different interpretations. we have found the story where these names were probably never heard of. we interpret it as a tale of the intercourse between mortal men and immortal maids, or between men and metamorphosed animals, as in india and north america. we explain the separation of the lovers as the result of breaking a taboo, or law of etiquette, binding among men and women, as well as between men and fairies. * * * * * the taboos are, to see the beloved unveiled, to utter his or her name, to touch her with a metal 'terrible to ghosts and spirits,' or to do some action which will revive the associations of a former life. we have shown that rules of nuptial etiquette resembling these in character do exist, and have existed, even among greeks--as where the milesian, like the zulu, women made a law not to utter their husbands' names. finally, we think it a reasonable hypothesis that tales on the pattern of 'cupid and psyche' might have been evolved wherever a curious nuptial taboo required to be sanctioned, or explained, by a myth. on this hypothesis, the stories may have been separately invented in different lands; but there is also a chance that they have been transmitted from people to people in the unknown past of our scattered and wandering race. this theory seems at least as probable as the hypothesis that the meaning of an aryan proverbial statement about sun and dawn was forgotten, and was altered unconsciously into a tale which is found among various non-aryan tribes. that hypothesis again, learned and ingenious as it is, has the misfortune to be opposed by other scholarly hypotheses not less ingenious and learned. * * * * * as for the sun-frog, we may hope that he has sunk for ever beneath the western wave. a far-travelled tale. a modern novelist has boasted that her books are read 'from tobolsk to tangiers.' this is a wide circulation, but the widest circulation in the world has probably been achieved by a story whose author, unlike ouida, will never be known to fame. the tale which we are about to examine is, perhaps, of all myths the most widely diffused, yet there is no ready way of accounting for its extraordinary popularity. any true 'nature-myth,' any myth which accounts for the processes of nature or the aspects of natural phenomena, may conceivably have been invented separately, wherever men in an early state of thought observed the same facts, and attempted to explain them by telling a story. thus we have seen that the earlier part of the myth of cronus is a nature-myth, setting forth the cause of the separation of heaven and earth. star-myths again, are everywhere similar, because men who believed all nature to be animated and personal, accounted for the grouping of constellations in accordance with these crude beliefs. { } once more, if a story like that of 'cupid and psyche' be found among the most diverse races, the distribution becomes intelligible if the myth was invented to illustrate or enforce a widely prevalent custom. but in the following story no such explanation is even provisionally acceptable. the gist of the tale (which has many different 'openings,' and conclusions in different places) may be stated thus: a young man is brought to the home of a hostile animal, a giant, cannibal, wizard, or a malevolent king. he is put by his unfriendly host to various severe trials, in which it is hoped that he will perish. in each trial he is assisted by the daughter of his host. after achieving the adventures, he elopes with the girl, and is pursued by her father. the runaway pair throw various common objects behind them, which are changed into magical obstacles and check the pursuit of the father. the myth has various endings, usually happy, in various places. another form of the narrative is known, in which the visitors to the home of the hostile being are, not wooers of his daughter, but brothers of his wife. { } the incidents of the flight, in this variant, are still of the same character. finally, when the flight is that of a brother from his sister's malevolent ghost, in hades (japan), or of two sisters from a cannibal mother or step-mother (zulu and samoyed), the events of the flight and the magical aids to escape remain little altered. we shall afterwards see that attempts have been made to interpret one of these narratives as a nature-myth; but the attempts seem unsuccessful. we are therefore at a loss to account for the wide diffusion of this tale, unless it has been transmitted slowly from people to people, in the immense unknown prehistoric past of the human race. * * * * * before comparing the various forms of the myth in its first shape--that which tells of the mortal lover and the giant's or wizard's daughter--let us give the scottish version of the story. this version was written down for me, many years ago, by an aged lady in morayshire. i published it in the 'revue celtique'; but it is probably new to story-comparers, in its broad scotch variant. nicht nought nothing. there once lived a king and a queen. they were long married and had no bairns; but at last the queen had a bairn, when the king was away in far countries. the queen would not christen the bairn till the king came back, and she said, 'we will just call him nicht nought nothing until his father comes home.' but it was long before he came home, and the boy had grown a nice little laddie. at length the king was on his way back; but he had a big river to cross, and there was a spate, and he could not get over the water. but a giant came up to him, and said, 'if you will give me nicht nought nothing, i will carry you over the water on my back.' the king had never heard that his son was called nicht nought nothing, and so he promised him. when the king got home again, he was very happy to see his wife again, and his young son. she told him that she had not given the child any name but nicht nought nothing, until he should come home again himself. the poor king was in a terrible case. he said, 'what have i done? i promised to give the giant who carried me over the river on his back, nicht nought nothing.' the king and the queen were sad and sorry, but they said, 'when the giant comes we will give him the hen-wife's bairn; he will never know the difference.' the next day the giant came to claim the king's promise, and he sent for the hen-wife's bairn; and the giant went away with the bairn on his back. he travelled till he came to a big stone, and there he sat down to rest. he said, 'hidge, hodge, on my back, what time of day is it?' the poor little bairn said, 'it is the time that my mother, the hen-wife, takes up the eggs for the queen's breakfast.' the giant was very angry, and dashed the bairn on the stone and killed it. . . . . . the same adventure is repeated with the gardener's son. . . . . . then the giant went back to the king's house, and said he would destroy them all if they did not give him nicht nought nothing this time. they had to do it; and when he came to the big stone, the giant said, 'what time of day is it?' nicht nought nothing said, 'it is the time that my father the king will be sitting down to supper.' the giant said, 'i've got the richt ane noo;' and took nicht nought nothing to his own house and brought him up till he was a man. the giant had a bonny dochter, and she and the lad grew very fond of each other. the giant said one day to nicht nought nothing, 'i've work for you to-morrow. there is a stable seven miles long and seven miles broad, and it has not been cleaned for seven years, and you must clean it to-morrow, or i will have you for my supper.' the giant's dochter went out next morning with the lad's breakfast, and found him in a terrible state, for aye as he cleaned out a bit, it aye fell in again. the giant's dochter said she would help him, and she cried a' the beasts of the field, and a' the fowls o' the air, and in a minute they a' came, and carried awa' everything that was in the stable and made a' clean before the giant came home. he said, 'shame for the wit that helped you; but i have a worse job for you to-morrow.' then he told nicht nought nothing that there was a loch seven miles long, and seven miles deep, and seven miles broad, and he must drain it the next day, or else he would have him for his supper. nicht nought nothing began early next morning and tried to lave the water with his pail, but the loch was never getting any less, and he did no ken what to do; but the giant's dochter called on all the fish in the sea to come and drink the water, and very soon they drank it dry. when the giant saw the work done he was in a rage, and said, 'i've a worse job for you to-morrow; there is a tree seven miles high, and no branch on it, till you get to the top, and there is a nest, and you must bring down the eggs without breaking one, or else i will have you for my supper.' at first the giant's dochter did not know how to help nicht nought nothing; but she cut off first her fingers and then her toes, and made steps of them, and he clomb the tree, and got all the eggs safe till he came to the bottom, and then one was broken. the giant's dochter advised him to run away, and she would follow him. so he travelled till he came to a king's palace, and the king and queen took him in and were very kind to him. the giant's dochter left her father's house, and he pursued her and was drowned. then she came to the king's palace where nicht nought nothing was. and she went up into a tree to watch for him. the gardener's dochter, going to draw water in the well, saw the shadow of the lady in the water, and thought it was herself, and said, 'if i'm so bonny, if i'm so brave, do you send me to draw water?' the gardener's wife went out, and she said the same thing. then the gardener went himself, and brought the lady from the tree, and led her in. and he told her that a stranger was to marry the king's dochter, and showed her the man: and it was nicht nought nothing asleep in a chair. and she saw him, and cried to him, 'waken, waken, and speak to me!' but he would not waken, and syne she cried, 'i cleaned the stable, i laved the loch, and i clamb the tree, and all for the love of thee, and thou wilt not waken and speak to me.' the king and the queen heard this, and came to the bonny young lady, and she said, 'i canna get nicht nought nothing to speak to me for all that i can do.' then were they greatly astonished when she spoke of nicht nought nothing, and asked where he was, and she said, 'he that sits there in the chair.' then they ran to him and kissed him and called him their own dear son, and he wakened, and told them all that the giant's dochter had done for him, and of all her kindness. then they took her in their arms and kissed her, and said she should now be their dochter, for their son should marry her. and they lived happy all their days. in this variant of the story, which we may use as our text, it is to be noticed that a lacuna exists. the narrative of the flight omits to mention that the runaways threw things behind them which became obstacles in the giant's way. one of these objects probably turned into a lake, in which the giant was drowned. { } a common incident is the throwing behind of a comb, which changes into a thicket. the formula of leaving obstacles behind occurs in the indian collection, the 'kathasarit sagara' (vii. xxxix.). the 'battle of the birds,' in campbell's 'tales of the west highlands,' is a very copious gaelic variant. russian parallels are 'vasilissa the wise and the water king,' and 'the king bear.' { a} the incident of the flight and the magical obstacles is found in japanese mythology. { b} the 'ugly woman of hades' is sent to pursue the hero. he casts down his black head-dress, and it is instantly turned into grapes; he fled while she was eating them. again, 'he cast down his multitudinous and close-toothed comb, and it instantly turned into bamboo sprouts.' in the gaelic version, the pursuer is detained by talkative objects which the pursued leave at home, and this marvel recurs in zululand, and is found among the bushmen. the zulu versions are numerous. { c} oddly enough, in the last variant, the girl performs no magic feat, but merely throws sesamum on the ground to delay the cannibals, for cannibals are very fond of sesamum. { d} * * * * * here, then, we have the remarkable details of the flight, in zulu, gaelic, norse, malagasy, { e} russian, italian, japanese. of all incidents in the myth, the incidents of the flight are most widely known. but the whole connected series of events--the coming of the wooer; the love of the hostile being's daughter; the tasks imposed on the wooer; the aid rendered by the daughter; the flight of the pair; the defeat or destruction of the hostile being--all these, or most of these, are extant, in due sequence, among the following races. the greeks have the tale, the people of madagascar have it, the lowland scotch, the celts, the russians, the italians, the algonquins, the finns, and the samoans have it. now if the story were confined to the aryan race, we might account for its diffusion, by supposing it to be the common heritage of the indo-european peoples, carried everywhere with them in their wanderings. but when the tale is found in madagascar, north america, samoa, and among the finns, while many scattered incidents occur in even more widely severed races, such as zulus, bushmen, japanese, eskimo, samoyeds, the aryan hypothesis becomes inadequate. to show how closely, all things considered, the aryan and non-aryan possessors of the tale agree, let us first examine the myth of jason. * * * * * the earliest literary reference to the myth of jason is in the 'iliad' (vii. , xxiii. ). here we read of euneos, a son whom hypsipyle bore to jason in lemnos. already, even in the 'iliad,' the legend of argo's voyage has been fitted into certain well-known geographical localities. a reference in the 'odyssey' (xii. ) has a more antique ring: we are told that of all barques argo alone escaped the jaws of the rocks wandering, which clashed together and destroyed ships. argo escaped, it is said, 'because jason was dear to hera.' it is plain, from various fragmentary notices, that hesiod was familiar with several of the adventures in the legend of jason. in the 'theogony' ( - ) hesiod mentions the essential facts of the legend: how jason carried off from aeetes his daughter, 'after achieving the adventures, many and grievous,' which were laid upon him. at what period the home of aeetes was placed in colchis, it is not easy to determine. mimnermus, a contemporary of solon, makes the home of aeetes lie 'on the brink of ocean,' a very vague description. { } pindar, on the other hand, in the splendid fourth pythian ode, already knows colchis as the scene of the loves and flight of jason and medea. * * * * 'long were it for me to go by the beaten track,' says pindar, 'and i know a certain short path.' like pindar, we may abridge the tale of jason. he seeks the golden fleece in colchis: aeetes offers it to him as a prize for success in certain labours. by the aid of medea, the daughter of aeetes, the wizard-king, jason tames the fire-breathing oxen, yokes them to the plough, and drives a furrow. by medea's help he conquers the children of the teeth of the dragon, subdues the snake that guards the fleece of gold, and escapes, but is pursued by aeetes. to detain aeetes, medea throws behind the mangled remains of her own brother, apsyrtos, and the colchians pursue no further than the scene of this bloody deed. the savagery of this act survives even in the work of a poet so late as apollonius rhodius (iv. ), where we read how jason performed a rite of savage magic, mutilating the body of apsyrtos in a manner which was believed to appease the avenging ghost of the slain. 'thrice he tasted the blood, thrice spat it out between his teeth,' a passage which the scholiast says contains the description of an archaic custom popular among murderers. beyond tomi, where a popular etymology fixed the 'cutting up' of apsyrtos, we need not follow the fortunes of jason and medea. we have already seen the wooer come to the hostile being, win his daughter's love, achieve the adventures by her aid, and flee in her company, delaying, by a horrible device, the advance of the pursuers. to these incidents in the tale we confine our attention. many explanations of the jason myth have been given by scholars who thought they recognised elemental phenomena in the characters. as usual these explanations differ widely. whenever a myth has to be interpreted, it is certain that one set of scholars will discover the sun and the dawn, where another set will see the thunder-cloud and lightning. the moon is thrown in at pleasure. sir g. w. cox determines { } 'that the name jason (iason) must be classed with the many others, iasion, iamus, iolaus, iaso, belonging to the same root.' well, what is the root? apparently the root is 'the root i, as denoting a crying colour, that is, a loud colour' (ii. ). seemingly (i. ) violet is a loud colour, and, wherever you have the root i, you have 'the violet-tinted morning from which the sun is born.' medea is 'the daughter of the sun,' and most likely, in her 'beneficent aspect,' is the dawn. but (ii. , note) ios has another meaning, 'which, as a spear, represents the far-darting ray of the sun'; so that, in one way or another, jason is connected with the violet-tinted morning or with the sun's rays. this is the gist of the theory of sir george cox. preller { a} is another scholar, with another set of etymologies. jason is derived, he thinks, from [greek], to heal, because jason studied medicine under the centaur chiron. this is the view of the scholiast on apollonius rhodius (i. ). jason, to preller's mind, is a form of asclepius, 'a spirit of the spring with its soft suns and fertile rains.' medea is the moon. medea, on the other hand, is a lightning goddess, in the opinion of schwartz. { b} no philological reason is offered. meanwhile, in sir george cox's system, the equivalent of medea, 'in her beneficent aspect,' is the dawn. we must suppose, it seems, that either the soft spring rains and the moon, or the dawn and the sun, or the lightning and the thunder-cloud, in one arrangement or another, irresistibly suggested, to early aryan minds, the picture of a wooer, arriving in a hostile home, winning a maiden's love, achieving adventures by her aid, fleeing with her from her angry father and delaying his pursuit by various devices. why the spring, the moon, the lightning, the dawn--any of them or all of them--should have suggested such a tale, let scholars determine when they have reconciled their own differences. it is more to our purpose to follow the myth among samoans, algonquins, and finns. none of these races speak an aryan language, and none can have been beguiled into telling the same sort of tale by a disease of aryan speech. samoa, where we find our story, is the name of a group of volcanic islands in central polynesia. they are about , miles from sidney, were first observed by europeans in , and are as far removed as most spots from direct aryan influences. our position is, however, that in the shiftings and migrations of peoples, the jason tale has somehow been swept, like a piece of drift-wood, on to the coasts of samoa. in the islands, the tale has an epical form, and is chanted in a poem of twenty- six stanzas. there is something greek in the free and happy life of the samoans--something greek, too, in this myth of theirs. there was once a youth, siati, famous for his singing, a young thamyris of samoa. but as, according to homer, 'the muses met thamyris the thracian, and made an end of his singing, for he boasted and said that he would vanquish even the muses if he sang against them,' so did the samoan god of song envy siati. the god and the mortal sang a match: the daughter of the god was to be the mortal's prize if he proved victorious. siati won, and he set off, riding on a shark, as arion rode the dolphin, to seek the home of the defeated deity. at length he reached the shores divine, and thither strayed puapae, daughter of the god, looking for her comb which she had lost. 'siati,' said she, 'how camest thou hither?' 'i am come to seek the song-god, and to wed his daughter.' 'my father,' said the maiden, 'is more a god than a man; eat nothing he hands you, never sit on a high seat, lest death follow.' so they were united in marriage. but the god, like aeetes, was wroth, and began to set siati upon perilous tasks: 'build me a house, and let it be finished this very day, else death and the oven await thee.' { a} siati wept, but the god's daughter had the house built by the evening. the other adventures were to fight a fierce dog, and to find a ring lost at sea. just as the scotch giant's daughter cut off her fingers to help her lover, so the samoan god's daughter bade siati cut her body into pieces and cast her into the sea. there she became a fish, and recovered the ring. they set off to the god's house, but met him pursuing them, with the help of his other daughter. 'puapae and siati threw down the comb, and it became a bush of thorns in the way to intercept the god and puanli,' the other daughter. next they threw down a bottle of earth which became a mountain; 'and then followed their bottle of water, and that became a sea, and drowned the god and puanli.' { b} this old samoan song contains nearly the closest savage parallel to the various household tales which find their heroic and artistic shape in the jason saga. still more surprising in its resemblances is the malagasy version of the narrative. in the malagasy story, the conclusion is almost identical with the winding up of the scotch fairy tale. the girl hides in a tree; her face, seen reflected in a well, is mistaken by women for their own faces, and the recognition follows in due course. { c} like most red indian versions of popular tales, the algonquin form of the jason saga is strongly marked with the peculiarities of the race. the story is recognisable, and that is all. the opening, as usual, differs from other openings. two children are deserted in the wilderness, and grow up to manhood. one of them loses an arrow in the water; the elder brother, panigwun, wades after it. a magical canoe flies past: an old magician, who is alone in the canoe, seizes panigwun and carries him off. the canoe fleets along, like the barques of the phaeacians, at the will of the magician, and reaches the isle where, like the samoan god of song, he dwells with his two daughters. 'here, my daughter,' said he, 'is a young man for your husband.' but the daughter knew that the proposed husband was but another victim of the old man's magic arts. by the daughter's advice, panigwun escaped in the magic barque, consoled his brother, and returned to the island. next day the magician, mishosha, set the young man to hard tasks and perilous adventures. he was to gather gulls' eggs; but the gulls attacked him in dense crowds. by an incantation he subdued the birds, and made them carry him home to the island. next day he was sent to gather pebbles, that he might be attacked and eaten by the king of the fishes. once more the young man, like the finnish ilmarinen in pohjola, subdued the mighty fish, and went back triumphant. the third adventure, as in 'nicht nought nothing,' was to climb a tree of extraordinary height in search of a bird's nest. here, again, the youth succeeded, and finally conspired with the daughters to slay the old magician. lastly the boy turned the magician into a sycamore tree, and won his daughter. the other daughter was given to the brother who had no share in the perils. { } here we miss the incident of the flight; and the magician's daughter, though in love with the hero, does not aid him to perform the feats. perhaps an algonquin brave would scorn the assistance of a girl. in the 'kalevala,' the old hero, wainamoinen, and his friend ilmarinen, set off to the mysterious and hostile land of pohjola to win a bride. the maiden of pohjola loses her heart to ilmarinen, and, by her aid, he bridles the wolf and bear, ploughs a field of adders with a plough of gold, and conquers the gigantic pike that swims in the styx of finnish mythology. after this point the story is interrupted by a long sequel of popular bridal songs, and, in the wandering course of the rather aimless epic, the flight and its incidents have been forgotten, or are neglected. these incidents recur, however, in the thread of somewhat different plots. we have seen that they are found in japan, among the eskimo, among the bushmen, the samoyeds, and the zulus, as well as in hungarian, magyar, celtic, and other european household tales. the conclusion appears to be that the central part of the jason myth is incapable of being explained, either as a nature-myth, or as a myth founded on a disease of language. so many languages could not take the same malady in the same way; nor can we imagine any series of natural phenomena that would inevitably suggest this tale to so many diverse races. we must suppose, therefore, either that all wits jumped and invented the same romantic series of situations by accident, or that all men spread from one centre, where the story was known, or that the story, once invented, has drifted all round the world. if the last theory be approved of, the tale will be like the indian ocean shell found lately in the polish bone-cave, { a} or like the egyptian beads discovered in the soil of dahomey. the story will have been carried hither and thither, in the remotest times, to the remotest shores, by traders, by slaves, by captives in war, or by women torn from their own tribe and forcibly settled as wives among alien peoples. stories of this kind are everywhere the natural property of mothers and grandmothers. when we remember how widely diffused is the law of exogamy, which forbids marriage between a man and woman of the same stock, we are impressed by the number of alien elements which must have been introduced with alien wives. where husband and wife, as often happened, spoke different languages, the woman would inevitably bring the hearthside tales of her childhood among a people of strange speech. by all these agencies, working through dateless time, we may account for the diffusion, if we cannot explain the origin, of tales like the central arrangement of incidents in the career of jason. { b} apollo and the mouse. why is apollo, especially the apollo of the troad, he who showered the darts of pestilence among the greeks, so constantly associated with a mouse? the very name, smintheus, by which his favourite priest calls on him in the 'iliad' (i. ), might be rendered 'mouse apollo,' or 'apollo, lord of mice.' as we shall see later, mice lived beneath the altar, and were fed in the holy of holies of the god, and an image of a mouse was placed beside or upon his sacred tripod. the ancients were puzzled by these things, and, as will be shown, accounted for them by 'mouse-stories,' [greek], so styled by eustathius, the mediaeval interpreter of homer. following our usual method, let us ask whether similar phenomena occur elsewhere, in countries where they are intelligible. did insignificant animals elsewhere receive worship: were their effigies elsewhere placed in the temples of a purer creed? we find answers in the history of peruvian religion. after the spanish conquest of peru, one of the european adventurers, don garcilasso de la vega, married an inca princess. their son, also named garcilasso, was born about . his famous book, 'commentarias reales,' contains the most authentic account of the old peruvian beliefs. garcilasso was learned in all the learning of the europeans, and, as an inca on the mother's side, had claims on the loyalty of the defeated race. he set himself diligently to collect both their priestly and popular traditions, and his account of them is the more trustworthy as it coincides with what we know to have been true in lands with which garcilasso had little acquaintance. * * * * * to garcilasso's mind, peruvian religion seems to be divided into two periods--the age before, and the age which followed the accession of the incas, and their establishment of sun-worship as the creed of the state. in the earlier period, the pre-inca period, he tells us 'an indian was not accounted honourable unless he was descended from a fountain, river, or lake, or even from the sea, or from a wild animal, such as a bear, lion, tiger, eagle, or the bird they call cuntur (condor), or some other bird of prey.' { a} to these worshipful creatures 'men offered what they usually saw them eat' (i. ). but men were not content to adore large and dangerous animals. 'there was not an animal, how vile and filthy soever, that they did not worship as a god,' including 'lizards, toads, and frogs.' in the midst of these superstitions the incas appeared. just as the tribes claimed descent from animals, great or small, so the incas drew _their_ pedigree from the sun, which they adored like the gens of the aurelii in rome. { b} thus every indian had his pacarissa, or, as the north american indians say, totem, { a} a natural object from which he claimed descent, and which, in a certain degree, he worshipped. though sun-worship became the established religion, worship of the animal pacarissas was still tolerated. the sun-temples also contained huacas, or images, of the beasts which the indians had venerated. { b} in the great temple of pachacamac, the most spiritual and abstract god of peruvian faith, 'they worshipped a she-fox and an emerald. the devil also appeared to them, and spoke in the form of a tiger, very fierce.' { c} this toleration of an older and cruder, in subordination to a purer, faith is a very common feature in religious evolution. in catholic countries, to this day, we may watch, in holy week, the adonis feast described by theocritus, { d} and the procession and entombment of the old god of spring. 'the incas had the good policy to collect all the tribal animal gods into their temples in and round cuzco, in which the two leading gods were the master of life, and the sun.' did a process of this sort ever occur in greek religion, and were older animal gods ever collected into the temples of such deities as apollo? * * * * * while a great deal of scattered evidence about many animals consecrated to greek gods points in this direction, it will be enough, for the present, to examine the case of the sacred mice. among races which are still in the totemistic stage, which still claim descent from animals and from other objects, a peculiar marriage law generally exists, or can be shown to have existed. no man may marry a woman who is descended from the same ancestral animal, and who bears the same totem-name, and carries the same badge or family crest, as himself. a man descended from the crane, and whose family name is crane, cannot marry a woman whose family name is crane. he must marry a woman of the wolf, or turtle, or swan, or other name, and her children keep her family title, not his. thus, if a crane man marries a swan woman, the children are swans, and none of them may marry a swan; they must marry turtles, wolves, or what not, and _their_ children, again, are turtles, or wolves. thus there is necessarily an eternal come and go of all the animal names known in a district. as civilisation advances these rules grow obsolete. people take their names from the father, as among ourselves. finally the dwellers in a given district, having become united into a local tribe, are apt to drop the various animal titles and to adopt, as the name of the whole tribe, the name of the chief, or of the predominating family. let us imagine a district of some twenty miles in which there are crane, wolf, turtle, and swan families. long residence together, and common interests, have welded them into a local tribe. the chief is of the wolf family, and the tribe, sinking family differences and family names, calls itself 'the wolves.' such tribes were probably, in the beginning, the inhabitants of the various egyptian towns which severally worshipped the wolf, or the sheep, or the crocodile, and abstained religiously (except on certain sacrificial occasions) from the flesh of the animal that gave them its name. { } * * * * * it has taken us long to reach the sacred mice of greek religion, but we are now in a position to approach their august divinity. we have seen that the sun-worship superseded, without abolishing, the tribal pacarissas in peru, and that the huacas, or images, of the sacred animals were admitted under the roof of the temple of the sun. now it is recognised that the temples of the sminthian apollo contained images of sacred mice among other animals, and our argument is that here, perhaps, we have another example of the peruvian religious evolution. just as, in peru, the tribes adored 'vile and filthy' animals, just as the solar worship of the incas subordinated these, just as the huacas of the beasts remained in the temples of the peruvian sun; so, we believe, the tribes along the mediterranean coasts had, at some very remote prehistoric period, their animal pacarissas; these were subordinated to the religion (to some extent solar) of apollo; and the huacas, or animal idols, survived in apollo's temples. * * * * * if this theory be correct, we shall probably find the mouse, for example, revered as a sacred animal in many places. this would necessarily follow, if the marriage customs which we have described ever prevailed on greek soil, and scattered the mouse-name far and wide. { a} traces of the mouse families, and of adoration, if adoration there was of the mouse, would linger on in the following shapes:--( ) places would be named from mice, and mice would be actually held sacred in themselves. ( ) the mouse-name would be given locally to the god who superseded the mouse. ( ) the figure of the mouse would be associated with the god, and used as a badge, or a kind of crest, or local mark, in places where the mouse has been a venerated animal. ( ) finally, myths would be told to account for the sacredness of a creature so undignified. let us take these considerations in their order:-- ( ) if there were local mice tribes, deriving their name from the worshipful mouse, certain towns settled by these tribes would retain a reverence for mice. in chrysa, a town of the troad, according to heraclides ponticus, mice were held sacred, the local name for mouse being [greek]. many places bore this mouse-name, according to strabo. { b} this is precisely what would have occurred had the mouse totem, and the mouse stock, been widely distributed. { c} the scholiast { a} mentions sminthus as a place in the troad. strabo speaks of two places deriving their name from sminthus, or mouse, near the sminthian temple, and others near larissa. in rhodes and lindus, the mouse place-name recurs, 'and in many other districts' ([greek]). strabo (x. ) names caressus, and poeessa, in ceos, among the other places which had sminthian temples, and, presumably, were once centres of tribes named after the mouse. here, then, are a number of localities in which the mouse apollo was adored, and where the old mouse-name lingered. that the mice were actually held sacred in their proper persons we learn from aelian. 'the dwellers in hamaxitus of the troad worship mice,' says aelian. 'in the temple of apollo smintheus, mice are nourished, and food is offered to them, at the public expense, and white mice dwell beneath the altar.' { b} in the same way we found that the peruvians fed their sacred beasts on what they usually saw them eat. ( ) the second point in our argument has already been sufficiently demonstrated. the mouse-name 'smintheus' was given to apollo in all the places mentioned by strabo, 'and many others.' ( ) the figure of the mouse will be associated with the god, and used as a badge, or crest, or local mark, in places where the mouse has been a venerated animal. the passage already quoted from aelian informs us that there stood 'an effigy of the mouse beside the tripod of apollo.' in chrysa, according to strabo (xiii. ), the statue of apollo smintheus had a mouse beneath his foot. the mouse on the tripod of apollo is represented on a bas-relief illustrating the plague, and the offerings of the greeks to apollo smintheus, as described in the first book of the 'iliad.' { a} * * * * * the mouse is a not uncommon local badge or crest in greece. the animals whose figures are stamped on coins, like the athenian owl, are the most ancient marks of cities. it is a plausible conjecture that, just as the iroquois when they signed treaties with the europeans used their totems--bear, wolf, and turtle--as seals, { b} so the animals on archaic greek city coins represented crests or badges which, at some far more remote period, had been totems. the argives, according to pollux, { c} stamped the mouse on their coins. { d} as there was a temple of apollo smintheus in tenedos, we naturally hear of a mouse on the coins of the island. { a} golzio has published one of these mouse coins. the people of metapontum stamped their money with a mouse gnawing an ear of corn. the people of cumae employed a mouse dormant. paoli fancied that certain mice on roman medals might be connected with the family of mus, but this is rather guesswork. { b} we have now shown traces, at least, of various ways in which an early tribal religion of the mouse--the mouse pacarissa, as the peruvians said--may have been perpetuated. when we consider that the superseding of the mouse by apollo must have occurred, if it did occur, long before homer, we may rather wonder that the mouse left his mark on greek religion so long. we have seen mice revered, a god with a mouse-name, the mouse-name recurring in many places, the huaca, or idol, of the mouse preserved in the temples of the god, and the mouse-badge used in several widely severed localities. it remains ( ) to examine the myths about mice. these, in our opinion, were probably told to account for the presence of the huaca of the mouse in temples, and for the occurrence of the animal in religion, and his connection with apollo. a singular mouse-myth, narrated by herodotus, is worth examining for reasons which will appear later, though the events are said to have happened on egyptian soil. { c} according to herodotus, one sethos, a priest of hephaestus (ptah), was king of egypt. he had disgraced the military class, and he found himself without an army when sennacherib invaded his country. sethos fell asleep in the temple, and the god, appearing to him in a vision, told him that divine succour would come to the egyptians. { a} in the night before the battle, field-mice gnawed the quivers and shield-handles of the foe, who fled on finding themselves thus disarmed. 'and now,' says herodotus, 'there standeth a stone image of this king in the temple of hephaestus, and in the hand of the image a mouse, and there is this inscription, "let whoso looketh on me be pious."' prof. sayce { b} holds that there was no such person as sethos, but that the legend 'is evidently egyptian, not greek, and the name of sennacherib, as well as the fact of the assyrian attack, is correct.' the legend also, though egyptian, is 'an echo of the biblical account of the destruction of the assyrian army,' an account which omits the mice. 'as to the mice, here,' says prof. sayce, 'we have to do again with the greek dragomen (sic). the story of sethos was attached to the statue of some deity which was supposed to hold a mouse in its hand.' it must have been easy to verify this supposition; but mr. sayce adds, 'mice were not sacred in egypt, nor were they used as symbols, or found on the monuments.' to this remark we may suggest some exceptions. apparently this one mouse _was_ found on the monuments. wilkinson (iii. ) says mice do occur in the sculptures, but they were not sacred. rats, however, were certainly sacred, and as little distinction is taken, in myth, between rats and mice as between rabbits and hares. the rat was sacred to ra, the sun-god, and (like all totems) was not to be eaten. { a} this association of the rat and the sun cannot but remind us of apollo and his mouse. according to strabo, a certain city of egypt did worship the shrew-mouse. the athribitae, or dwellers in crocodilopolis, are the people to whom he attributes this cult, which he mentions (xvii. ) among the other local animal-worships of egypt. { b} several porcelain examples of the field-mouse sacred to horus (commonly called apollo by the greeks) may be seen in the british museum. that rats and field-mice were sacred in egypt, then, we may believe on the evidence of the ritual, of strabo, and of many relics of egyptian art. herodotus, moreover, is credited when he says that the statue 'had a mouse on its hand.' elsewhere, it is certain that the story of mice gnawing the bowstrings occurs frequently as an explanation of mouse-worship. one of the trojan 'mouse-stories' ran--that emigrants had set out in prehistoric times from crete. the oracle advised them to settle 'wherever they were attacked by the children of the soil.' at hamaxitus in the troad, they were assailed in the night by mice, which ate all that was edible of their armour and bowstrings. the colonists made up their mind that these mice were 'the children of the soil,' settled there, and adored the mouse apollo. { a} a myth of this sort may either be a story invented to explain the mouse-name; or a mouse tribe, like the red indian wolves, or crows, may actually have been settled on the spot, and may even have resisted invasion. { b} another myth of the troad accounted for the worship of the mouse apollo on the hypothesis that he had once freed the land from mice, like the pied piper of hamelin, whose pipe (still serviceable) is said to have been found in his grave by men who were digging a mine. { c} stories like these, stories attributing some great deliverance to the mouse, or some deliverance from mice to the god, would naturally spring up among people puzzled by their own worship of the mouse-god or of the mouse. we have explained the religious character of mice as the relics of a past age in which the mouse had been a totem and mouse family names had been widely diffused. that there are, and have been, mice totems and mouse family names among semitic stocks round the mediterranean is proved by prof. robertson smith: { a} 'achbor, the mouse, is an edomite name, apparently a stock name, as the jerboa and another mouse-name are among the arabs. the same name occurs in judah.' where totemism exists, the members of each stock either do not eat the ancestral animal at all, or only eat him on rare sacrificial occasions. the totem of a hostile stock may be eaten by way of insult. in the case of the mouse, isaiah seems to refer to one or other of these practices (lxvi.): 'they that sanctify themselves, and purify themselves in the gardens behind one tree in the midst, eating swine's flesh, and the abomination, and the _mouse_, shall be consumed together, saith the lord.' this is like the egyptian prohibition to eat 'the abominable' (that is, tabooed or forbidden) 'rat of ra.' if the unclean animals of israel were originally the totems of each clan, then the mouse was a totem, { b} for the chosen people were forbidden to eat 'the weasel, and the mouse, and the tortoise after his kind.' that unclean beasts, beasts not to be eaten, were originally totems, prof. robertson smith infers from ezekiel (viii. , ), where 'we find seventy of the elders of israel--that is, the heads of houses--worshipping in a chamber which had on its walls the figures of all manner of unclean' (tabooed) 'creeping things, and quadrupeds, _even all the idols of the house of israel_.' some have too hastily concluded that the mouse was a sacred animal among the neighbouring philistines. after the philistines had captured the ark and set it in the house of dagon, the people were smitten with disease. they therefore, in accordance with a well-known savage magical practice, made five golden representations of the diseased part, and five golden mice, as 'a trespass offering to the lord of israel,' and so restored the ark. { } such votive offerings are common still in catholic countries, and the mice of gold by no means prove that the philistines had ever worshipped mice. * * * * * turning to india from the mediterranean basin, and the aryan, semitic, and egyptian tribes on its coasts, we find that the mouse was the sacred animal of rudra. 'the mouse, rudra, is thy beast,' says the yajur veda, as rendered by grohmann in his 'apollo smintheus.' grohmann recognises in rudra a deity with most of the characteristics of apollo. in later indian mythology, the mouse is an attribute of ganeca, who, like apollo smintheus, is represented in art with his foot upon a mouse. such are the chief appearances of the mouse in ancient religion. if he really was a semitic totem, it may, perhaps, be argued that his prevalence in connection with apollo is the result of a semitic leaven in hellenism. hellenic invaders may have found semitic mouse-tribes at home, and incorporated the alien stock deity with their own apollo-worship. in that case the mouse, while still originally a totem, would not be an aryan totem. but probably the myths and rites of the mouse, and their diffusion, are more plausibly explained on our theory than on that of de gubernatis: 'the pagan sun-god crushes under his foot the mouse of night. when the cat's away, the mice may play; the shadows of night dance when the moon is absent.' { a} this is one of the quaintest pieces of mythological logic. obviously, when the cat (the moon) is away, the mice (the shadows) _cannot_ play: there is no light to produce a shadow. as usually chances, the scholars who try to resolve all the features of myth into physical phenomena do not agree among themselves about the mouse. while the mouse is the night, according to m. de gubernatis, in grohmann's opinion the mouse is the lightning. he argues that the lightning was originally regarded by the aryan race as the 'flashing tooth of a beast,' especially of a mouse. afterwards men came to identify the beast with his teeth, and, behold, the lightning and the mouse are convertible mythical terms! now it is perfectly true that savages regard many elemental phenomena, from eclipses to the rainbow, as the result of the action of animals. the rainbow is a serpent; { b} thunder is caused by the thunder-bird, who has actually been shot in dacotah, and who is familiar to the zulus; while rain is the milk of a heavenly cow--an idea recurring in the 'zend avesta.' but it does not follow because savages believe in these meteorological beasts that all the beasts in myth were originally meteorological. man raised a serpent to the skies, perhaps, but his interest in the animal began on earth, not in the clouds. it is excessively improbable, and quite unproved, that any race ever regarded lightning as the flashes of a mouse's teeth. the hypothesis is a jeu d'esprit, like the opposite hypothesis about the mouse of night. in these, and all the other current theories of the sminthian apollo, the widely diffused worship of ordinary mice, and such small deer, has been either wholly neglected, or explained by the first theory of symbolism that occurred to the conjecture of a civilised observer. the facts of savage animal-worship, and their relations to totemism, seem still unknown to or unappreciated by scholars, with the exception of mr. sayce, who recognises totemism as the origin of the zoomorphic element in egyptian religion. our explanation, whether adequate or not, is not founded on an isolated case. if apollo superseded and absorbed the worship of the mouse, he did no less for the wolf, the ram, the dolphin, and several other animals whose images were associated with his own. the greek religion was more refined and anthropomorphic than that of egypt. in egypt the animals were still adored, and the images of the gods had bestial heads. in greece only a few gods, and chiefly in very archaic statues, had bestial heads; but beside the other deities the sculptor set the owl, eagle, wolf, serpent, tortoise, mouse, or whatever creature was the local favourite of the deity. { a} probably the deity had, in the majority of cases, superseded the animal and succeeded to his honours. but the conservative religious sentiment retained the beast within the courts and in the suit and service of the anthropomorphic god. { b} the process by which the god ousted the beasts may perhaps be observed in samoa. there (as dr. turner tells us in his 'samoa') each family has its own sacred animal, which it may not eat. if this law be transgressed, the malefactor is supernaturally punished in a variety of ways. but, while each family has thus its totem, four or five different families recognise, in owl, crab, lizard, and so on, incarnations of the same god, say of tongo. if tongo had a temple among these families, we can readily believe that images of the various beasts in which he was incarnate would be kept within the consecrated walls. savage ideas like these, if they were ever entertained in greece, would account for the holy animals of the different deities. but it is obvious that the phenomena which we have been studying may be otherwise explained. it may be said that the sminthian apollo was only revered as the enemy and opponent of mice. st. gertrude (whose heart was eaten by mice) has the same role in france. { } the worship of apollo, and the badge of the mouse, would, on this principle, be diffused by colonies from some centre of the faith. the images of mice in apollo's temples would be nothing more than votive offerings. thus, in the church of a saxon town, the verger shows a silver mouse dedicated to our lady. 'this is the greatest of our treasures,' says the verger. 'our town was overrun with mice till the ladies of the city offered this mouse of silver. instantly all the mice disappeared.' 'and are you such fools as to believe that the creatures went away because a silver mouse was dedicated?' asked a prussian officer. 'no,' replied the verger, rather neatly; 'or long ago we should have offered a silver prussian.' star myths. artemus ward used to say that, while there were many things in the science of astronomy hard to be understood, there was one fact which entirely puzzled him. he could partly perceive how we 'weigh the sun,' and ascertain the component elements of the heavenly bodies, by the aid of spectrum analysis. 'but what beats me about the stars,' he observed plaintively, 'is how we come to know their names.' this question, or rather the somewhat similar question, 'how did the constellations come by their very peculiar names?' has puzzled professor pritchard and other astronomers more serious than artemus ward. why is a group of stars called the bear, or the swan, or the twins, or named after the pleiades, the fair daughters of the giant atlas? { } these are difficulties that meet even children when they examine a 'celestial globe.' there they find the figure of a bear, traced out with lines in the intervals between the stars of the constellations, while a very imposing giant is so drawn that orion's belt just fits his waist. but when he comes to look at the heavens, the infant speculator sees no sort of likeness to a bear in the stars, nor anything at all resembling a giant in the neighbourhood of orion. the most eccentric modern fancy which can detect what shapes it will in clouds, is unable to find any likeness to human or animal forms in the stars, and yet we call a great many of the stars by the names of men and beasts and gods. some resemblance to terrestrial things, it is true, everyone can behold in the heavens. corona, for example, is like a crown, or, as the australian black fellows know, it is like a boomerang, and we can understand why they give it the name of that curious curved missile. the milky way, again, does resemble a path in the sky; our english ancestors called it watling street--the path of the watlings, mythical giants--and bushmen in africa and red men in north america name it the 'ashen path,' or 'the path of souls.' the ashes of the path, of course, are supposed to be hot and glowing, not dead and black like the ash-paths of modern running-grounds. other and more recent names for certain constellations are also intelligible. in homer's time the greeks had two names for the great bear; they called it the bear, or the wain: and a certain fanciful likeness to a wain may be made out, though no resemblance to a bear is manifest. in the united states the same constellation is popularly styled the dipper, and every one may observe the likeness to a dipper or toddy-ladle. but these resemblances take us only a little way towards appellations. we know that we derive many of the names straight from the greek; but whence did the greeks get them? some, it is said, from the chaldaeans; but whence did they reach the chaldaeans? to this we shall return later, but, as to early greek star-lore, goguet, the author of 'l'origine des lois,' a rather learned but too speculative work of the last century, makes the following characteristic remarks: 'the greeks received their astronomy from prometheus. this prince, as far as history teaches us, made his observations on mount caucasus.' that was the eighteenth century's method of interpreting mythology. the myth preserved in the 'prometheus bound' of aeschylus tells us that zeus crucified the titan on mount caucasus. the french philosopher, rejecting the supernatural elements of the tale, makes up his mind that prometheus was a prince of a scientific bent, and that he established his observatory on the frosty caucasus. but, even admitting this, why did prometheus give the stars animal names? goguet easily explains this by a hypothetical account of the manners of primitive men. 'the earliest peoples,' he says, 'must have used writing for purposes of astronomical science. they would be content to design the constellations of which they wished to speak by the hieroglyphical symbols of their names; hence the constellations have insensibly taken the names of the chief symbols.' thus, a drawing of a bear or a swan was the hieroglyphic of the name of a star, or group of stars. but whence came the name which was represented by the hieroglyphic? that is precisely what our author forgets to tell us. but he remarks that the meaning of the hieroglyphic came to be forgotten, and 'the symbols gave rise to all the ridiculous tales about the heavenly signs.' this explanation is attained by the process of reasoning in a vicious circle from hypothetical premises ascertained to be false. all the known savages of the world, even those which have scarcely the elements of picture-writing, call the constellations by the names of men and animals, and all tell 'ridiculous tales' to account for the names. as the star-stories told by the greeks, the ancient egyptians, and other civilised people of the old world, exactly correspond in character, and sometimes even in incident, with the star-stories of modern savages, we have the choice of three hypotheses to explain this curious coincidence. perhaps the star-stories, about nymphs changed into bears, and bears changed into stars, were invented by the civilised races of old, and gradually found their way amongst people like the eskimo, and the australians, and bushmen. or it may be insisted that the ancestors of australians, eskimo, and bushmen were once civilised, like the greeks and egyptians, and invented star-stories, still remembered by their degenerate descendants. these are the two forms of the explanation which will be advanced by persons who believe that the star-stories were originally the fruit of the civilised imagination. the third theory would be, that the 'ridiculous tales' about the stars were originally the work of the savage imagination, and that the greeks, chaldaeans, and egyptians, when they became civilised, retained the old myths that their ancestors had invented when they were savages. in favour of this theory it may be said, briefly, that there is no proof that the fathers of australians, eskimo, and bushmen had ever been civilised, while there is a great deal of evidence to suggest that the fathers of the greeks had once been savages. { } and, if we incline to the theory that the star- myths are the creation of savage fancy, we at once learn why they are, in all parts of the world, so much alike. just as the flint and bone weapons of rude races resemble each other much more than they resemble the metal weapons and the artillery of advanced peoples, so the mental products, the fairy tales, and myths of rude races have everywhere a strong family resemblance. they are produced by men in similar mental conditions of ignorance, curiosity, and credulous fancy, and they are intended to supply the same needs, partly of amusing narrative, partly of crude explanation of familiar phenomena. now it is time to prove the truth of our assertion that the star-stories of savage and of civilised races closely resemble each other. let us begin with that well-known group the pleiades. the peculiarity of the pleiades is that the group consists of seven stars, of which one is so dim that it seems entirely to disappear, and many persons can only detect its presence through a telescope. the greeks had a myth to account for the vanishing of the lost pleiad. the tale is given in the 'catasterismoi' (stories of metamorphoses into stars) attributed to eratosthenes. this work was probably written after our era; but the author derived his information from older treatises now lost. according to the greek myth, then, the seven stars of the pleiad were seven maidens, daughters of the giant atlas. six of them had gods for lovers; poseidon admired two of them, zeus three, and ares one; but the seventh had only an earthly wooer, and when all of them were changed into stars, the maiden with the mortal lover hid her light for shame. now let us compare the australian story. according to mr. dawson ('australian aborigines'), a writer who understands the natives well, 'their knowledge of the heavenly bodies greatly exceeds that of most white people,' and 'is taught by men selected for their intelligence and information. the knowledge is important to the aborigines on their night journeys;' so we may be sure that the natives are careful observers of the heavens, and are likely to be conservative of their astronomical myths. the 'lost pleiad' has not escaped them, and this is how they account for her disappearance. the pirt kopan noot tribe have a tradition that the pleiades were a queen and her six attendants. long ago the crow (our canopus) fell in love with the queen, who refused to be his wife. the crow found that the queen and her six maidens, like other australian gins, were in the habit of hunting for white edible grubs in the bark of trees. the crow at once changed himself into a grub (just as jupiter and indra used to change into swans, horses, ants, or what not) and hid in the bark of a tree. the six maidens sought to pick him out with their wooden hooks, but he broke the points of all the hooks. then came the queen, with her pretty bone hook; he let himself be drawn out, took the shape of a giant, and ran away with her. ever since there have only been six stars, the six maidens, in the pleiad. this story is well known, by the strictest inquiry, to be current among the blacks of the west district and in south australia. mr. tylor, whose opinion is entitled to the highest respect, thinks that this may be a european myth, told by some settler to a black in the greek form, and then spread about among the natives. he complains that the story of the loss of the _brightest_ star does not fit the facts of the case. we do not know, and how can the australians know, that the lost star was once the brightest? it appears to me that the australians, remarking the disappearances of a star, might very naturally suppose that the _crow_ had selected for his wife that one which had been the most brilliant of the cluster. besides, the wide distribution of the tale among the natives, and the very great change in the nature of the incidents, seem to point to a native origin. though the main conception--the loss of one out of seven maidens--is identical in greek and in murri, the manner of the disappearance is eminently hellenic in the one case, eminently savage in the other. however this may be, nothing of course is proved by a single example. let us next examine the stars castor and pollux. both in greece and in australia these are said once to have been two young men. in the 'catasterismoi,' already spoken of, we read: 'the twins, or dioscouroi.--they were nurtured in lacedaemon, and were famous for their brotherly love, wherefore, zeus, desiring to make their memory immortal, placed them both among the stars.' in australia, according to mr. brough smyth ('aborigines of victoria'), turree (castor) and wanjel (pollux) are two young men who pursue purra and kill him at the commencement of the great heat. coonar toorung (the mirage) is the smoke of the fire by which they roast him. in greece it was not castor and pollux, but orion who was the great hunter placed among the stars. among the bushmen of south africa, castor and pollux are not young men, but young women, the wives of the eland, the great native antelope. in greek star-stories the great bear keeps watch, homer says, on the hunter orion for fear of a sudden attack. but how did the bear get its name in greece? according to hesiod, the oldest greek poet after homer, the bear was once a lady, daughter of lycaon, king of arcadia. she was a nymph of the train of chaste artemis, but yielded to the love of zeus, and became the ancestress of all the arcadians (that is, bear-folk). in her bestial form she was just about to be slain by her own son when zeus rescued her by raising her to the stars. here we must notice first, that the arcadians, like australians, red indians, bushmen, and many other wild races, and like the bedouins, believed themselves to be descended from an animal. that the early egyptians did the same is not improbable; for names of animals are found among the ancestors in the very oldest genealogical papyrus, { } as in the genealogies of the old english kings. next the arcadians transferred the ancestral bear to the heavens, and, in doing this, they resembled the peruvians, of whom acosta says: 'they adored the star urchuchilly, feigning it to be a ram, and worshipped two others, and say that one of them is a _sheep_, and the other a lamb . . . others worshipped the star called the tiger. _they were of opinion that there was not any beast or bird upon the earth, whose shape or image did not shine in the heavens_.' but to return to our bears. the australians have, properly speaking, no bears, though the animal called the native bear is looked up to by the aborigines with superstitious regard. but among the north american indians, as the old missionaries lafitau and charlevoix observed, 'the four stars in front of our constellation are a bear; those in the tail are hunters who pursue him; the small star apart is the pot in which they mean to cook him.' it may be held that the red men derived their bear from the european settlers. but, as we have seen, an exact knowledge of the stars has always been useful if not essential to savages; and we venture to doubt whether they would confuse their nomenclature and sacred traditions by borrowing terms from trappers and squatters. but, if this is improbable, it seems almost impossible that all savage races should have borrowed their whole conception of the heavenly bodies from the myths of greece. it is thus that egede, a missionary of the last century, describes the eskimo philosophy of the stars: 'the notions that the greenlanders have as to the origin of the heavenly lights--as sun, moon, and stars--are very nonsensical; in that they pretend they have formerly been as many of their own ancestors, who, on different accounts, were lifted up to heaven, and became such glorious celestial bodies.' again, he writes: 'their notions about the stars are that some of them have been men, and others different sorts, of animals and fishes.' but every reader of ovid knows that this was the very mythical theory of the greeks and romans. the egyptians, again, worshipped osiris, isis, and the rest as _ancestors_, and there are even modern scholars, like mr. loftie in his 'essay of scarabs,' who hold osiris to have been originally a real historical person. but the egyptian priests who showed plutarch the grave of osiris, showed him, too, the stars into which osiris, isis, and horus had been metamorphosed. here, then, we have greeks, egyptians, and eskimo, all agreed about the origin of the heavenly lights, all of opinion that 'they have formerly been as many of their own ancestors.' the australian general theory is: 'of the good men and women, after the deluge, pundjel (a kind of zeus, or rather a sort of prometheus of australian mythology) made stars. sorcerers (biraark) can tell which stars were once good men and women.' here the sorcerers have the same knowledge as the egyptian priests. again, just as among the arcadians, 'the progenitors of the existing tribes, whether birds, or beasts, or men, were set in the sky, and made to shine as stars.' { } we have already given some australian examples in the stories of the pleiades, and of castor and pollux. we may add the case of the eagle. in greece the eagle was the bird of zeus, who carried off ganymede to be the cup-bearer of olympus. among the australians this same constellation is called totyarguil; he was a man who, when bathing, was killed by a fabulous animal, a kind of kelpie; as orion, in greece, was killed by the scorpion. like orion, he was placed among the stars. the australians have a constellation named eagle, but he is our sinus, or dog-star. the indians of the amazon are in one tale with the australians and eskimo. 'dr. silva de coutinho informs me,' says professor hartt, { } 'that the indians of the amazonas not only give names to many of the heavenly bodies, but also tell stories about them. the two stars that form the shoulders of orion are said to be an old man and a boy in a canoe, chasing a peixe boi, by which name is designated a dark spot in the sky near the above constellation.' the indians also know monkey-stars, crane-stars, and palm-tree stars. the bushmen, almost the lowest tribe of south africa, have the same star- lore and much the same myths as the greeks, australians, egyptians, and eskimo. according to dr. bleek, 'stars, and even the sun and moon, were once mortals on earth, or even animals or inorganic substances, which happened to get translated to the skies. the sun was once a man, whose arm-pit radiated a limited amount of light round his house. some children threw him into the sky, and there he shines.' the homeric hymn to helios, in the same way, as mr. max muller observes, 'looks on the sun as a half-god, almost a hero, who had once lived on earth.' the pointers of the southern cross were 'two men who were lions,' just as callisto, in arcadia, was a woman who was a bear. it is not at all rare in those queer philosophies, as in that of the scandinavians, to find that the sun or moon has been a man or woman. in australian fable the moon was a man, the sun a woman of indifferent character, who appears at dawn in a coat of red kangaroo skins, the present of an admirer. in an old mexican text the moon was a man, across whose face a god threw a rabbit, thus making the marks in the moon. { a} many separate races seem to recognise the figure of a hare, where we see 'the man in the moon.' in a buddhist legend, an exemplary and altruistic hare was translated to the moon. 'to the common people in india the spots on the moon look like a hare, and chandras, the god of the moon, carries a hare: hence the moon is called sasin or sasanka, hare-mark. the mongolians also see in these shadows the figure of a hare.' { b} among the eskimo, the moon is a girl, who always flees from her cruel brother, the sun, because he disfigured her face. elsewhere the sun is the girl, beloved by her own brother, the moon; she blackens her face to avert his affection. on the rio branco, and among the tomunda, the moon is a girl who loved her brother and visited him in the dark. he detected her wicked passion by drawing his blackened hand over her face. the marks betrayed her, and, as the spots on the moon, remain to this day. { } among the new zealanders and north american indians the sun is a great beast, whom the hunters trapped and thrashed with cudgels. his blood is used in some new zealand incantations; and, according to an egyptian myth, was kneaded into clay at the making of man. but there is no end to similar sun-myths, in all of which the sun is regarded as a man, or even as a beast. to return to the stars-- the red indians, as schoolcraft says, 'hold many of the planets to be transformed adventurers.' the iowas 'believed stars to be a sort of living creatures.' one of them came down and talked to a hunter, and showed him where to find game. the gallinomeros of central california, according to mr. bancroft, believe that the sun and moon were made and lighted up by the hawk and the coyote, who one day flew into each other's faces in the dark, and were determined to prevent such accidents in the future. but the very oddest example of the survival of the notion that the stars are men or women is found in the 'pax' of aristophanes. trygaeus in that comedy has just made an expedition to heaven. a slave meets him, and asks him, 'is not the story true, then, that we become stars when we die?' the answer is 'certainly;' and trygaeus points out the star into which ios of chios has just been metamorphosed. aristophanes is making fun of some popular greek superstition. but that very superstition meets us in new zealand. 'heroes,' says mr. taylor, 'were thought to become stars of greater or less brightness, according to the number of their victims slain in fight.' the aryan race is seldom far behind, when there are ludicrous notions to be credited or savage tales to be told. we have seen that aristophanes, in greece, knew the eskimo doctrine that stars are souls of the dead. the persians had the same belief, { a} 'all the unnumbered stars were reckoned ghosts of men.' { b} the german folklore clings to the same belief, 'stars are souls; when a child dies god makes a new star.' kaegi quotes { c} the same idea from the veda, and from the satapatha brahmana the thoroughly australian notion that 'good men become stars.' for a truly savage conception, it would be difficult, in south africa or on the amazons, to beat the following story from the 'aitareya brahmana' (iii. .) pragapati, the master of life, conceived an incestuous passion for his own daughter. like zeus, and indra, and the australian wooer in the pleiad tale, he concealed himself under the shape of a beast, a roebuck, and approached his own daughter, who had assumed the form of a doe. the gods, in anger at the awful crime, made a monster to punish pragapati. the monster sent an arrow through the god's body; he sprang into heaven, and, like the arcadian bear, this aryan roebuck became a constellation. he is among the stars of orion, and his punisher, also now a star, is, like the greek orion, a hunter. the daughter of pragapati, the doe, became another constellation, and the avenging arrow is also a set of stars in the sky. what follows, about the origin of the gods called adityas, is really too savage to be quoted by a chaste mythologist. it would be easy to multiply examples of this stage of thought among aryans and savages. but we have probably brought forward enough for our purpose, and have expressly chosen instances from the most widely separated peoples. these instances, it will perhaps be admitted, suggest, if they do not prove, that the greeks had received from tradition precisely the same sort of legends about the heavenly bodies as are current among eskimo and bushmen, new zealanders and iowas. as much, indeed, might be inferred from our own astronomical nomenclature. we now give to newly discovered stars names derived from distinguished people, as georgium sidus, or herschel; or, again, merely technical appellatives, as alpha, beta, and the rest. we should never think when 'some new planet swims into our ken' of calling it kangaroo, or rabbit, or after the name of some hero of romance, as rob roy, or count fosco. but the names of stars which we inherit from greek mythology--the bear, the pleiads, castor and pollux, and so forth--are such as no people in our mental condition would originally think of bestowing. when callimachus and the courtly astronomers of alexandria pretended that the golden locks of berenice were raised to the heavens, that was a mere piece of flattery constructed on the inherited model of legends about the crown (corona) of ariadne. it seems evident enough that the older greek names of stars are derived from a time when the ancestors of the greeks were in the mental and imaginative condition of iowas, kanekas, bushmen, murri, and new zealanders. all these, and all other savage peoples, believe in a kind of equality and intercommunion among all things animate and inanimate. stones are supposed in the pacific islands to be male and female and to propagate their species. animals are believed to have human or superhuman intelligence, and speech, if they choose to exercise the gift. stars are just on the same footing, and their movements are explained by the same ready system of universal anthropomorphism. stars, fishes, gods, heroes, men, trees, clouds, and animals, all play their equal part in the confused dramas of savage thought and savage mythology. even in practical life the change of a sorcerer into an animal is accepted as a familiar phenomenon, and the power of soaring among the stars is one on which the australian biraark, or the eskimo shaman, most plumes himself. it is not wonderful that things which are held possible in daily practice should be frequent features of mythology. hence the ready invention and belief of star-legends, which in their turn fix the names of the heavenly bodies. nothing more, except the extreme tenacity of tradition and the inconvenience of changing a widely accepted name, is needed to account for the human and animal names of the stars. the greeks received from the dateless past of savage intellect the myths, and the names of the constellations, and we have taken them, without inquiry, from the greeks. thus it happens that our celestial globes are just as queer menageries as any globes could be that were illustrated by australians or american indians, by bushmen or peruvian aborigines, or eskimo. it was savages, we may be tolerably certain, who first handed to science the names of the constellations, and provided greece with the raw material of her astronomical myths--as bacon prettily says, that we listen to the harsh ideas of earlier peoples 'blown softly through the flutes of the grecians.' this position has been disputed by mr. brown, in a work rather komically called 'the law of kosmic order.' mr. brown's theory is that the early accadians named the zodiacal signs after certain myths and festivals connected with the months. thus the crab is a figure of 'the darkness power' which seized the akkadian solar hero, dumuzi, and 'which is constantly represented in monstrous and drakontic form.' the bull, again, is connected with night and darkness, 'in relation to the horned moon,' and is, for other reasons, 'a nocturnal potency.' few stars, to tell the truth, are diurnal potencies. mr. brown's explanations appear to me far-fetched and unconvincing. but, granting that the zodiacal signs reached greece from chaldaea, mr. brown will hardly maintain that australians, melanesians, iowas, amazon indians, eskimo, and the rest, borrowed their human and animal stars from 'akkadia.' the belief in animal and human stars is practically universal among savages who have not attained the 'akkadian' degree of culture. the belief, as mr. tylor has shown, { } is a natural result of savage ideas. we therefore infer that the 'akkadians,' too, probably fell back for star-names on what they inherited from the savage past. if the greeks borrowed certain star-names from the akkadians, they also, like the aryans of india, retained plenty of savage star-myths of their own, fables derived from the earliest astronomical guesses of early thought. the first moment in astronomical science arrives when the savage, looking at a star, says, like the child in the nursery poem, 'how i wonder what you are!' the next moment comes when the savage has made his first rough practical observations of the movements of the heavenly body. his third step is to explain these to himself. now science cannot offer any but a fanciful explanation beyond the sphere of experience. the experience of the savage is limited to the narrow world of his tribe, and of the beasts, birds, and fishes of his district. his philosophy, therefore, accounts for all phenomena on the supposition that the laws of the animate nature he observes are working everywhere. but his observations, misguided by his crude magical superstitions, have led him to believe in a state of equality and kinship between men and animals, and even inorganic things. he often worships the very beasts he slays; he addresses them as if they understood him; he believes himself to be descended from the animals, and of their kindred. these confused ideas he applies to the stars, and recognises in them men like himself, or beasts like those with which he conceives himself to be in such close human relations. there is scarcely a bird or beast but the red indian or the australian will explain its peculiarities by a myth, like a page from ovid's 'metamorphoses.' it was once a man or a woman, and has been changed to bird or beast by a god or a magician. men, again, have originally been beasts, in his philosophy, and are descended from wolves, frogs or serpents, or monkeys. the heavenly bodies are traced to precisely the same sort of origin; and hence, we conclude, come their strange animal names, and the strange myths about them which appear in all ancient poetry. these names, in turn, have curiously affected human beliefs. astrology is based on the opinion that a man's character and fate are determined by the stars under which he is born. and the nature of these stars is deduced from their names, so that the bear should have been found in the horoscope of dr. johnson. when giordano bruno wrote his satire against religion, the famous 'spaccio della bestia trionfante,' he proposed to banish not only the gods but the beasts from heaven. he would call the stars, not the bear, or the swan, or the pleiads, but truth, mercy, justice, and so forth, that men might be born, not under bestial, but moral influences. but the beasts have had too long possession of the stars to be easily dislodged, and the tenure of the bear and the swan will probably last as long as there is a science of astronomy. their names are not likely again to delude a philosopher into the opinion of aristotle that the stars are animated. this argument had been worked out to the writer's satisfaction when he chanced to light on mr. max muller's explanation of the name of the great bear. we have explained that name as only one out of countless similar appellations which men of every race give to the stars. these names, again, we have accounted for as the result of savage philosophy, which takes no great distinction between man and the things in the world, and looks on stars, beasts, birds, fishes, flowers, and trees as men and women in disguise. mr. muller's theory is based on philological considerations. he thinks that the name of the great bear is the result of a mistake as to the meaning of words. there was in sanskrit, he says, { } a root ark, or arch, meaning 'to be bright.' the stars are called riksha, that is, bright ones, in the veda. 'the constellations here called the rikshas, in the sense of the "bright ones," would be homonymous in sanskrit with the bears. remember also that, apparently without rhyme or reason, the same constellation is called by greeks and romans the bear. . . . there is not the shadow of a likeness with a bear. you will now perceive the influence of words on thought, or the spontaneous growth of mythology. the name riksha was applied to the bear in the sense of the bright fuscous animal, and in that sense it became most popular in the later sanskrit, and in greek and latin. the same name, "in the sense of the bright ones," had been applied by the vedic poets to the stars in general, and more particularly to that constellation which in the northern parts of india was the most prominent. the etymological meaning, "the bright stars," was forgotten; the popular meaning of riksha (bear) was known to everyone. and thus it happened that, when the greeks had left their central home and settled in europe, they retained the name of arktos for the same unchanging stars; but, not knowing why those stars had originally received that name, they ceased to speak of them as arktoi, or many bears, and spoke of them as the bear.' this is a very good example of the philological way of explaining a myth. if once we admit that ark, or arch, in the sense of 'bright' and of 'bear,' existed, not only in sanskrit, but in the undivided aryan tongue, and that the name riksha, bear, 'became in that sense most popular in greek and latin,' this theory seems more than plausible. but the explanation does not look so well if we examine, not only the aryan, but all the known myths and names of the bear and the other stars. professor sayce, a distinguished philologist, says we may not compare non-aryan with aryan myths. we have ventured to do so, however, in this paper, and have shown that the most widely severed races give the stars animal names, of which the bear is one example. now, if the philologists wish to persuade us that it was decaying and half-forgotten language which caused men to give the names of animals to the stars, they must prove their case on an immense collection of instances--on iowa, kaneka, murri, maori, brazilian, peruvian, mexican, egyptian, eskimo, instances. it would be the most amazing coincidence in the world if forgetfulness of the meaning of their own speech compelled tribes of every tongue and race to recognise men and beasts, cranes, cockatoos, serpents, monkeys, bears, and so forth, in the heavens. how came the misunderstood words always to be misunderstood in the same way? does the philological explanation account for the enormous majority of the phenomena? if it fails, we may at least doubt whether it solves the one isolated case of the great bear among the greeks and romans. it must be observed that the philological explanation of mr. muller does not clear up the arcadian story of their own descent from a she-bear who is now a star. yet similar stories of the descent of tribes from animals are so widespread that it would be difficult to name the race or the quarter of the globe where they are not found. are they all derived from misunderstood words meaning 'bright'? these considerations appear to be a strong argument for comparing not only aryan, but all attainable myths. we shall often find, if we take a wide view, that the philological explanation which seemed plausible in a single case is hopelessly narrow when applied to a large collection of parallel cases in languages of various families. finally, in dealing with star myths, we adhere to the hypothesis of mr. tylor: 'from savagery up to civilisation,' akkadian, greek, or english, 'there may be traced in the mythology of the stars a course of thought, changed, indeed, in application, yet never broken in its evident connection from first to last. the savage sees individual stars as animate beings, or combines star-groups into living celestial creatures, or limbs of them, or objects connected with them; while at the other extremity of the scale of civilisation the modern astronomer keeps up just such ancient fancies, turning them to account in useful survival, as a means of mapping out the celestial globe.' moly and mandragora. 'i have found out a new cure for rheumatism,' said the lady beside whom it was my privilege to sit at dinner. 'you carry a potato about in your pocket!' some one has written an amusing account of the behaviour of a man who is finishing a book. he takes his ideas everywhere with him and broods over them, even at dinner, in the pauses of conversation. but here was a lady who kindly contributed to my studies and offered me folklore and survivals in cultivated kensington. my mind had strayed from the potato cure to the new zealand habit of carrying a baked yam at night to frighten away ghosts, and to the old english belief that a bit of bread kept in the pocket was sovereign against evil spirits. why should ghosts dread the food of mortals when it is the custom of most races of mortals to feed ancestral ghosts? the human mind works pretty rapidly, and all this had passed through my brain while i replied, in tones of curiosity: 'a potato!' 'yes; but it is not every potato that will do. i heard of the cure in the country, and when we came up to town, and my husband was complaining of rheumatism, i told one of the servants to get me a potato for mr. johnson's rheumatism. "yes, ma'am," said the man; "but it must be a _stolen_ potato." i had forgotten that. well, one can't ask one's servants to steal potatoes. it is easy in the country, where you can pick one out of anybody's field.' 'and what did you do?' i asked. 'oh, i drove to covent garden and ordered a lot of fruit and flowers. while the man was not looking, i stole a potato--a very little one. i don't think there was any harm in it.' 'and did mr. johnson try the potato cure?' 'yes, he carried it in his pocket, and now he is quite well. i told the doctor, and he says he knows of the cure, but he dares not recommend it.' how oddly superstitions survive! the central idea of this modern folly about the potato is that you must pilfer the root. let us work the idea of the healing or magical herb backwards, from kensington to european folklore, and thence to classical times, to homer, and to the hottentots. turning first to germany, we note the beliefs, not about the potato, but about another vegetable, the mandrake. of all roots, in german superstition, the alraun, or mandrake, is the most famous. the herb was conceived of, in the savage fashion, as a living human person, a kind of old witch-wife. { } again, the root has a human shape. 'if a hereditary thief who has preserved his chastity gets hung,' the broad-leafed, yellow-flowered mandrake grows up, in his likeness, beneath the gallows from which he is suspended. the mandrake, like the moly, the magical herb of the odyssey, is 'hard for men to dig.' he who desires to possess a mandrake must stop his ears with wax, so that he may not hear the deathly yells which the plant utters as it is being dragged out of the earth. then before sunrise, on a friday, the amateur goes out with a dog, 'all black,' makes three crosses round the mandrake, loosens the soil about the root, ties the root to the dog's tail, and offers the beast a piece of bread. the dog runs at the bread, drags out the mandrake root, and falls dead, killed by the horrible yell of the plant. the root is now taken up, washed with wine, wrapped in silk, laid in a casket, bathed every friday, 'and clothed in a little new white smock every new moon.' the mandrake acts, if thus considerately treated, as a kind of familiar spirit. 'every piece of coin put to her over night is found doubled in the morning.' gipsy folklore, and the folklore of american children, keep this belief in doubling deposits. the gipsies use the notion in what they call 'the great trick.' some foolish rustic makes up his money in a parcel which he gives to the gipsy. the latter, after various ceremonies performed, returns the parcel, which is to be buried. the money will be found doubled by a certain date. of course when the owner unburies the parcel he finds nothing in it but brass buttons. in the same way, and with pious confidence, the american boy buries a marble in a hollow log, uttering the formula, 'what hasn't come here, _come_! what's here, _stay_ here!' and expects to find all the marbles he has ever lost. { } let us follow the belief in magical roots into the old pagan world. the ancients knew mandragora and the superstitions connected with it very well. dioscorides mentions mandragorus, or antimelon, or dircaea, or circaea, and says the egyptians call it apemoum, and pythagoras 'anthropomorphon.' in digging the root, pliny says, 'there are some ceremonies observed, first they that goe about this worke, look especially to this that the wind be not in their face, but blow upon their backs. then with the point of a sword they draw three circles round about the plant, which don, they dig it up afterwards with their face unto the west.' pliny says nothing of the fetich qualities of the plant, as credited in modern and mediaeval germany, but mentions 'sufficient it is with some bodies to cast them into sleep with the smel of mandrago.' this is like shakespeare's 'poppy and mandragora, and all the drowsy syrups of the world.' plato and demosthenes { a} also speak of mandragora as a soporific. it is more to the purpose of magic that columella mentions 'the _half-human_ mandragora.' here we touch the origin of the mandrake superstitions. the roots have a kind of fantastic resemblance to the human shape; pliny describes them as being 'of a fleshy substance and tender.' now it is one of the recognised principles in magic, that things like each other, however superficially, affect each other in a mystic way, and possess identical properties. thus, in melanesia, according to mr. codrington, { b} 'a stone in the shape of a pig, of a bread-fruit, of a yam, was a most valuable find,' because it made pigs prolific, and fertilised bread-fruit trees and yam-plots. in scotland, too, 'stones were called by the names of the limbs they resembled, as "eye-stane," "head-stane." a patient washed the affected part of his body, and rubbed it well with the stone corresponding.' { a} in precisely the same way, the mandrake root, being thought to resemble the human body, was credited with human and superhuman powers. josephus mentions { b} a plant 'not easily caught, which slips away from them that wish to gather it, and never stands still' till certain repulsive rites are performed. these rites cannot well be reported here, but they are quite familiar to red indian and to bushman magic. another way to dig the plant spoken of by josephus is by aid of the dog, as in the german superstition quoted from grimm. aelian also recommends the use of the dog to pluck the herb aglaophotis, which shines at night. { c} when the dog has dragged up the root, and died of terror, his body is to be buried on the spot with religious honours and secret sacred rites. so much for mandragora, which, like the healing potato, has to be acquired stealthily and with peril. now let us examine the homeric herb moly. the plant is thus introduced by homer: in the tenth book of the 'odyssey,' circe has turned odysseus's men into swine. he sets forth to rescue them, trusting only to his sword. the god hermes meets him, and offers him 'a charmed herb,' 'this herb of grace' ([greek]) whereby he may subdue the magic wiles of circe. the plant is described by homer with some minuteness. 'it was black at the root, but the flower was like to milk. "moly," the gods call it, but it is hard for mortal men to dig, howbeit with the gods all things are possible.' the etymologies given of 'moly' are almost as numerous as the etymologists. one derivation, from the old 'turanian' tongue of accadia, will be examined later. the scholiast offers the derivation '[greek], to make charms of no avail'; but this is exactly like professor blackie's etymological discovery that erinys is derived from [greek]: 'he might as well derive critic from criticise.' { } the scholiast adds that moly caused death to the person who dragged it out of the ground. this identification of moly with mandrake is probably based on homer's remark that moly is 'hard to dig.' the black root and white flower of moly are quite unlike the yellow flower and white fleshy root ascribed by pliny to mandrake. only confusion is caused by regarding the two magical herbs as identical. but why are any herbs or roots magical? while some scholars, like de gubernatis, seek an explanation in supposed myths about clouds and stars, it is enough for our purpose to observe that herbs really have medicinal properties, and that untutored people invariably confound medicine with magic. a plant or root is thought to possess virtue, not only when swallowed in powder or decoction, but when carried in the hand. st. john's wort and rowan berries, like the homeric moly, still 'make evil charms of none avail;' rowan, ash, and red threed keep the devils from their speed, says the scotch rhyme. any fanciful resemblance of leaf or flower or root to a portion of the human body, any analogy based on colour, will give a plant reputation for magical virtues. this habit of mind survives from the savage condition. the hottentots are great herbalists. like the greeks, like the germans, they expect supernatural aid from plants and roots. mr. hahn, in his 'tsui goam, the supreme being of the khoi khoi' (p. ), gives the following examples:-- dapper, in his description of africa, p. , tells us:--'some of them wear round the neck roots, which they find far inland, in rivers, and being on a journey they light them in a fire or chew them, if they must sleep the night out in the field. they believe that these roots keep off the wild animals. the roots they chew are spit out around the spot where they encamp for the night; and in a similar way if they set the roots alight, they blow the smoke and ashes about, believing that the smell will keep the wild animals off. i had often occasion to observe the practice of these superstitious ceremonies, especially when we were in a part of the country where we heard the roaring of the lions, or had the day previously met with the footprints of the king of the beasts. the korannas also have these roots as safeguards with them. if a commando (a warlike expedition) goes out, every man will put such roots in his pockets and in the pouch where he keeps his bullets, believing that the arrows or bullets of the enemy have no effect, but that his own bullets will surely kill the enemy. and also before they lie down to sleep, they set these roots alight, and murmur, 'my grandfather's root, bring sleep on the eyes of the lion and leopard and the hyena. make them blind, that they cannot find us, and cover their noses, that they cannot smell us out.' also, if they have carried off large booty, or stolen cattle of the enemy, they light these roots and say: 'we thank thee, our grandfather's root, that thou hast given us cattle to eat. let the enemy sleep, and lead him on the wrong track, that he may not follow us until we have safely escaped.' another sort of shrub is called abib. herdsmen, especially, carry pieces of its wood as charms, and if cattle or sheep have gone astray, they burn a piece of it in the fire, that the wild animals may not destroy them. and they believe that the cattle remain safe until they can be found the next morning. schweinfurth found the same belief in magic herbs and roots among the bongoes and niam niams in 'the heart of africa.' the bongoes believe, like the homeric greeks, that 'certain roots ward off the evil influences of spirits.' like the german amateurs of the mandrake, they assert that 'there is no other resource for obtaining communication with spirits, except by means of certain roots' (i. ). our position is that the english magical potato, the german mandrake, the greek moly, are all survivals from a condition of mind like that in which the hottentots still pray to roots. now that we have brought mandragora and moly into connection with the ordinary magical superstitions of savage peoples, let us see what is made of the subject by another method. mr. r. brown, the learned and industrious author of 'the great dionysiak myth,' has investigated the traditions about the homeric moly. he first { } 'turns to aryan philology.' many guesses at the etymology of 'moly' have been made. curtius suggests [greek], akin to [greek], 'soft.' this does not suit mr. brown, who, to begin with, is persuaded that the herb is not a magical herb, sans phrase, like those which the hottentots use, but that the basis of the myth 'is simply the effect of night upon the world of day.' now, as moly is a name in use among the gods, mr. brown thinks 'we may fairly examine the hypothesis of a foreign origin of the term.' anyone who holds that certain greek gods were borrowed from abroad, may be allowed to believe that the gods used foreign words, and, as mr. brown points out, there are foreign elements in various homeric names of imported articles, peoples, persons, and so forth. where, then, is a foreign word like moly, which might have reached homer? by a long process of research, mr. brown finds his word in ancient 'akkadian.' from professor sayce he borrows a reference to apuleius barbarus, about whose life nothing is known, and whose date is vague. apuleius barbarus may have lived about four centuries after our era, and _he_ says that 'wild rue was called moly by the cappadocians.' rue, like rosemary, and indeed like most herbs, has its magical repute, and if we supposed that homer's moly was rue, there would be some interest in the knowledge. rue was called 'herb of grace' in english, holy water was sprinkled with it, and the name is a translation of homer's [greek]. perhaps rue was used in sprinkling, because in pre-christian times rue had, by itself, power against sprites and powers of evil. our ancestors may have thought it as well to combine the old charm of rue and the new christian potency of holy water. thus there would be a distinct analogy between homeric moly and english 'herb of grace.' 'euphrasy and rue' were employed to purge and purify mortal eyes. pliny is very learned about the magical virtues of rue. just as the stolen potato is sovran for rheumatism, so 'rue stolen thriveth the best.' the samoans think that their most valued vegetables were stolen from heaven by a samoan visitor. { a} it is remarkable that rue, according to pliny, is killed by the touch of a woman in the same way as, according to josephus, the mandrake is tamed. { b} these passages prove that the classical peoples had the same extraordinary superstitions about women as the bushmen and red indians. indeed pliny { c} describes a magical manner of defending the crops from blight, by aid of women, which is actually practised in america by the red men. { d} here, then, are proofs enough that rue was magical outside of cappadocia. but this is not an argument on mr. brown's lines. the cappadocians called rue 'moly'; what language, he asks, was spoken by the cappadocians? prof. sayce (who knows so many tongues) says that 'we know next to nothing of the language of the cappadocians, or of the moschi who lived in the same locality.' but where prof. sayce is, the hittites, if we may say so respectfully, are not very far off. in this case he thinks the moschi (though he admits we know next to nothing about it) 'seem to have spoken a language allied to that of the cappadocians and hittites.' that is to say, it is not impossible that the language of the moschi, about which next to nothing is known, may have been allied to that of the cappadocians, about which we know next to nothing. all that we do know in this case is, that four hundred years after christ the dwellers in cappadocia employed a word 'moly,' which had been greek for at least twelve hundred years. but mr. brown goes on to quote that one of the languages of which we know next to nothing, hittite, was 'probably allied to proto-armenian, and perhaps lykian, and was above all not semitic.' in any case 'the cuneiform mode of writing was used in cappadocia at an early period.' as even professor sayce declines to give more than a tentative reading of a cappadocian cuneiform inscription, it seems highly rash to seek in this direction for an interpretation of a homeric word 'moly,' used in cappadocia very many centuries after the tablets were scratched. but, on the evidence of the babylonian character of the cuneiform writing on cappadocian tablets, mr. brown establishes a connection between the people of accadia (who probably introduced the cuneiform style) and the people of cappadocia. the connection amounts to this. twelve hundred years after homer, the inhabitants of cappadocia are said to have called rue 'moly.' at some unknown period, the accadians appear to have influenced the art of writing in cappadocia. apparently mr. brown thinks it not too rash to infer that the cappadocian use of the word 'moly' is not derived from the greeks, but from the accadians. now in accadian, according to mr. brown, mul means 'star.' 'hence ulu or mulu = [greek], the mysterious homerik counter-charm to the charms of kirke' (p. ). mr. brown's theory, therefore, is that moly originally meant 'star.' circe is the moon, odysseus is the sun, and 'what _watches over_ the solar hero at night when exposed to the hostile lunar power, but the stars?' especially the dog-star. the truth is, that homer's moly, whatever plant he meant by the name, is only one of the magical herbs in which most peoples believe or have believed. like the scottish rowan, or like st. john's wort, it is potent against evil influences. people have their own simple reasons for believing in these plants, and have not needed to bring down their humble, early botany from the clouds and stars. we have to imagine, on the other hand (if we follow mr. brown), that in some unknown past the cappadocians turned the accadian word for a star into a local name of a plant, that this word reached homer, that the supposed old accadian myth of the star which watches over the solar hero retained its vitality in greek, and leaving the star clung to the herb, that homer used an 'akkado- kappadokian' myth, and that, many ages after, the accadian star-name in its perverted sense of 'rue' survived in cappadocia. this structure of argument is based on tablets which even prof. sayce cannot read, and on possibilities about the alliances of tongues concerning which we 'know next to nothing.' a method which leaves on one side the common, natural, widely-diffused beliefs about the magic virtue of herbs (beliefs which we have seen at work in kensington and in central africa), to hunt for moly among stars and undeciphered kappadokian inscriptions, seems a dubious method. we have examined it at full length because it is a specimen of an erudite, but, as we think, a mistaken way in folklore. m. halevy's warnings against the shifting mythical theories based on sciences so new as the lore of assyria and 'akkadia' are by no means superfluous. 'akkadian' is rapidly become as ready a key to all locks as 'aryan' was a few years ago. 'kalevala'; or, the finnish national epic. it is difficult to account for the fact that the scientific curiosity which is just now so busy in examining all the monuments of the primitive condition of our race, should, in england at least, have almost totally neglected to popularise the 'kalevala,' or national poem of the finns. besides its fresh and simple beauty of style, its worth as a storehouse of every kind of primitive folklore, being as it is the production of an urvolk, a nation that has undergone no violent revolution in language or institutions--the 'kalevala' has the peculiar interest of occupying a position between the two kinds of primitive poetry, the ballad and the epic. so much difficulty has been introduced into the study of the first developments of song, by confusing these distinct sorts of composition under the name of popular poetry, that it may be well, in writing of a poem which occupies a middle place between epic and ballad, to define what we mean by each. the author of our old english 'art of poesie' begins his work with a statement which may serve as a text: 'poesie,' says puttenham, writing in , 'is more ancient than the artificiall of the greeks and latines, coming by instinct of nature, and used by the savage and uncivill, who were before all science and civilitie. this is proved by certificate of merchants and travellers, who by late navigations have surveyed the whole world, and discovered large countries, and strange people, wild and savage, affirming that the american, the perusine, and the very canniball, do sing, and also say, their highest and holiest matters in certain riming versicles.' puttenham is here referring to that instinct of primitive men, which compels them in all moments of high-wrought feeling, and on all solemn occasions, to give utterance to a kind of chant. { a} such a chant is the song of lamech, when he had 'slain a man to his wounding.' so in the norse sagas, grettir and gunnar _sing_ when they have anything particular to say; and so in the marchen--the primitive fairy tales of all nations--scraps of verse are introduced where emphasis is wanted. this craving for passionate expression takes a more formal shape in the lays which, among all primitive peoples, as among the modern greeks to-day, { b} are sung at betrothals, funerals, and departures for distant lands. these songs have been collected in scotland by scott and motherwell; their danish counterparts have been translated by mr. prior. in greece, m. fauriel and dr. ulrichs; in provence, damase arbaud; in italy, m. nigra; in servia, talvj; in france, gerard de nerval--have done for their separate countries what scott did for the border. professor child, of harvard, is publishing a beautiful critical collection of english volkslieder, with all known variants from every country. a comparison of the collections proves that among all european lands the primitive 'versicles' of the people are identical in tone, form, and incident. it is this kind of early expression of a people's life--careless, abrupt, brief, as was necessitated by the fact that they were sung to the accompaniment of the dance--that we call ballads. these are distinctly, and in every sense, popular poems, and nothing can cause greater confusion than to apply the same title, 'popular,' to early epic poetry. ballads are short; a long ballad, as mr. matthew arnold has said, creeps and halts. a true epic, on the other hand, is long, and its tone is grand, noble, and sustained. ballads are not artistic; while the form of the epic, whether we take the hexameter or the rougher laisse of the french chansons de geste, is full of conscious and admirable art. lastly, popular ballads deal with vague characters, acting and living in vague places; while the characters of an epic are heroes of definite station, _whose descendants are still in the land_, whose home is a recognisable place, ithaca, or argos. now, though these two kinds of early poetry--the ballad, the song of the people; the epic, the song of the chiefs of the people, of the ruling race--are distinct in kind, it does not follow that they have no connection, that the nobler may not have been developed out of the materials of the lower form of expression. and the value of the 'kalevala' is partly this, that it combines the continuity and unison of the epic with the simplicity and popularity of the ballad, and so forms a kind of link in the history of the development of poetry. this may become clearer as we proceed to explain the literary history of the finnish national poem. sixty years ago, it may be said, no one was aware that finland possessed a national poem at all. her people--who claim affinity with the magyars of hungary, but are possibly a back-wave of an earlier tide of population--had remained untouched by foreign influences since their conquest by sweden, and their somewhat lax and wholesale conversion to christianity: events which took place gradually between the middle of the twelfth and the end of the thirteenth centuries. under the rule of sweden, the finns were left to their quiet life and undisturbed imaginings, among the forests and lakes of the region which they aptly called pohja, 'the end of things'; while their educated classes took no very keen interest in the native poetry and mythology of their race. at length the annexation of finland by russia, in , awakened national feeling, and stimulated research into the songs and customs which were the heirlooms of the people. it was the policy of russia to encourage, rather than to check, this return on a distant past; and from the north of norway to the slopes of the altai, ardent explorers sought out the fragments of unwritten early poetry. these runes, or runots, were chiefly sung by old men called runoias, to beguile the weariness of the long dark winters. the custom was for two champions to engage in a contest of memory, clasping each other's hands, and reciting in turn till he whose memory first gave in slackened his hold. the 'kalevala' contains an instance of this practice, where it is said that no one was so hardy as to clasp hands with wainamoinen, who is at once the orpheus and the prometheus of finnish mythology. these runoias, or rhapsodists, complain, of course, of the degeneracy of human memory; they notice how any foreign influence, in religion or politics, is destructive to the native songs of a race. { } 'as for the lays of old time, a thousand have been scattered to the wind, a thousand buried in the snow; . . . as for those which the munks (the teutonic knights) swept away, and the prayer of the priest overwhelmed, a thousand tongues were not able to recount them.' in spite of the losses thus caused, and in spite of the suspicious character of the finns, which often made the task of collection a dangerous one, enough materials remained to furnish dr. lonnrot, the most noted explorer, with thirty-five runots, or cantos. these were published in , but later research produced the fifteen cantos which make up the symmetrical fifty of the 'kalevala.' in the task of arranging and uniting these, dr. lonnrot played the part traditionally ascribed to the commission of pisistratus in relation to the 'iliad' and 'odyssey.' dr. lonnrot is said to have handled with singular fidelity the materials which now come before us as one poem, not absolutely without a certain unity and continuous thread of narrative. it is this unity (so faint compared with that of the 'iliad' and 'odyssey') which gives the 'kalevala' a claim to the title of epic. it cannot be doubted that, at whatever period the homeric poems took shape in greece, they were believed to record the feats of the supposed ancestors of existing families. thus, for example, pisistratus, as a descendant of the nelidae, had an interest in securing certain parts, at least, of the 'iliad' and the 'odyssey' from oblivion. the same family pride embellished and preserved the epic poetry of early france. there were in france but three heroic houses, or gestes; and three corresponding cycles of epopees. now, in the 'kalevala,' there is no trace of the influence of family feeling; it was no one's peculiar care and pride to watch over the records of the fame of this or that hero. the poem begins with a cosmogony as wild as any indian dream of creation; and the human characters who move in the story are shadowy inhabitants of no very definite lands, whom no family claim as their forefathers. the very want of this idea of family and aristocratic pride gives the 'kalevala' a unique place among epics. it is emphatically an epic of the people, of that class whose life contains no element of progress, no break in continuity; which from age to age preserves, in solitude and close communion with nature, the earliest beliefs of grey antiquity. the greek epic, on the other hand, has, as m. preller { } points out, 'nothing to do with natural man, but with an ideal world of heroes, with sons of the gods, with consecrated kings, heroes, elders, _a kind of specific race of men_. the people exist only as subsidiary to the great houses, as a mere background against which stand out the shining figures of heroes; as a race of beings fresh and rough from the hands of nature, with whom, and with whose concerns, the great houses and their bards have little concern.' this feeling--so universal in greece, and in the feudal countries of mediaeval europe, that there are two kinds of men, the golden and the brazen race, as plato would have called them--is absent, with all its results, in the 'kalevala.' among the finns we find no trace of an aristocracy; there is scarcely a mention of kings, or priests; the heroes of the poem are really popular heroes, fishers, smiths, husbandmen, 'medicine-men,' or wizards; exaggerated shadows of the people, pursuing on a heroic scale, not war, but the common daily business of primitive and peaceful men. in recording their adventures, the 'kalevala,' like the shield of achilles, reflects all the life of a race, the feasts, the funerals, the rites of seed-time and harvest of marriage and death, the hymn, and the magical incantation. were this all, the epic would only have the value of an exhaustive collection of the popular ballads which, as we have seen, are a poetical record of the intenser moments in the existence of unsophisticated tribes. but the 'kalevala' is distinguished from such a collection, by presenting the ballads as they are produced by the events of a continuous narrative, and thus it takes a distinct place between the aristocratic epics of greece, or of the franks, and the scattered songs which have been collected in scotland, sweden, denmark, greece, and italy. besides the interest of its unique position as a popular epic, the 'kalevala' is very valuable, both for its literary beauties and for the confused mass of folklore which it contains. here old cosmogonies, attempts of man to represent to himself the beginning of things, are mingled with the same wild imaginings as are found everywhere in the shape of fairy-tales. we are hurried from an account of the mystic egg of creation, to a hymn like that of the ambarval brothers, to a strangely familiar scrap of a nursery story, to an incident which we remember as occurring in almost identical words in a scotch ballad. we are among a people which endows everything with human characters and life, which is in familiar relations with birds, and beasts, and even with rocks and plants. ravens and wolves and fishes of the sea, sun, moon, and stars, are kindly or churlish; drops of blood find speech, man and maid change to snake or swan and resume their forms, ships have magic powers, like the ships of the phaeacians. then there is the oddest confusion of every stage of religious development: we find a supreme god, delighting in righteousness; ukko, the lord of the vault of air, who stands apart from men, and sends his son, wainamoinen, to be their teacher in music and agriculture. across this faith comes a religion of petrified abstractions like those of the roman pantheon. there are gods of colour, a goddess of weaving, a goddess of man's blood, besides elemental spirits of woods and waters, and the manes of the dead. meanwhile, the working faith of the people is the belief in magic--generally a sign of the lower culture. it is supposed that the knowledge of certain magic words gives power over the elemental bodies which obey them; it is held that the will of a distant sorcerer can cross the lakes and plains like the breath of a fantastic frost, with power to change an enemy to ice or stone. traces remain of the worship of animals: there is a hymn to the bear; a dance like the bear-dance of the american indians; and another hymn tells of the birth and power of the serpent. across all, and closing all, comes a hostile account of the origin of christianity--the end of joy and music. how primitive was the condition of the authors of this medley of beliefs is best proved by the survival of the custom called exogamy. { a} this custom, which is not peculiar to the finns, but is probably a universal note of early society, prohibits marriage between members of the same tribe. consequently, the main action, such as it is, of the 'kalevala' turns on the efforts made by the men of kaleva to obtain brides from the hostile tribe of pohja. { b} further proof of ancient origin is to be found in what is the great literary beauty of the poem--its pure spontaneity and simplicity. it is the production of an intensely imaginative race, to which song came as the most natural expression of joy and sorrow, terror or triumph--a class which lay near to nature's secret, and was not out of sympathy with the wild kin of woods and waters. 'these songs,' says the prelude, 'were found by the wayside, and gathered in the depths of the copses; blown from the branches of the forest, and culled among the plumes of the pine-trees. these lays came to me as i followed the flocks, in a land of meadows honey-sweet, and of golden hills. . . . the cold has spoken to me, and the rain has told me her runes; the winds of heaven, the waves of the sea, have spoken and sung to me; the wild birds have taught me, the music of many waters has been my master.' the metre in which the epic is chanted resembles, to an english ear, that of mr. longfellow's 'hiawatha'--there is assonance rather than rhyme; and a very musical effect is produced by the liquid character of the language, and by the frequent alliterations. this rough outline of the main characteristics of the 'kalevala' we shall now try to fill up with an abstract of its contents. the poem is longer than the 'iliad,' and much of interest must necessarily be omitted; but it is only through such an abstract that any idea can be given of the sort of unity which does prevail amid the most utter discrepancy. in the first place, what is to be understood by the word 'kalevala'? the affix la signifies 'abode.' thus, 'tuonela' is 'the abode of tuoni,' the god of the lower world; and as 'kaleva' means 'heroic,' 'magnificent,' 'kalevala' is 'the home of heroes.' the poem is the record of the adventures of the people of kalevala--of their strife with the men of pohjola, the place of the world's end. we may fancy two old runoias, or singers, clasping hands on one of the first nights of the finnish winter, and beginning (what probably has never been accomplished) the attempt to work through the 'kalevala' before the return of summer. they commence ab ovo, or, rather, before the egg. first is chanted the birth of wainamoinen, the benefactor and teacher of men. he is the son of luonnotar, the daughter of nature, who answers to the first woman of the iroquois cosmogony. beneath the breath and touch of wind and tide, she conceived a child; but nine ages of man passed before his birth, while the mother floated on 'the formless and the multiform waters.' then ukko, the supreme god, sent an eagle, which laid her eggs in the maiden's bosom, and from these eggs grew earth and sky, sun and moon, star and cloud. then was wainamoinen born on the waters, and reached a barren land, and gazed on the new heavens and the new earth. there he sowed the grain that is the bread of man, chanting the hymn used at seed-time, calling on the mother earth to make the green herb spring, and on ukko to send clouds and rain. so the corn sprang, and the golden cuckoo--which in finland plays the part of the popinjay in scotch ballads, or of the three golden birds in greek folksongs--came with his congratulations. in regard to the epithet 'golden,' it may be observed that gold and silver, in the finnish epic, are lavished on the commonest objects of daily life. this is a universal note of primitive poetry, and is not a peculiar finnish idiom, as m. leouzon le duc supposes; nor, as mr. tozer seems to think, in his account of romaic ballads, a trace of oriental influence among the modern greeks. it is common to all the ballads of europe, as m. ampere has pointed out, and may be observed in the 'chanson de roland,' and in homer. while the corn ripened, wainamoinen rested from his labours, and took the task of orpheus. 'he sang,' says the 'kalevala,' of the origin of things, of the mysteries hidden from babes, that none may attain to in this sad life, in the hours of these perishable days. the fame of the runoia's singing excited jealousy in the breast of one of the men around him, of whose origin the 'kalevala' gives no account. this man, joukahainen, provoked him to a trial of song, boasting, like empedocles, or like one of the old celtic bards, that he had been all things. 'when the earth was made i was there; when space was unrolled i launched the sun on his way.' then was wainamoinen wroth, and by the force of his enchantment he rooted joukahainen to the ground, and suffered him not to go free without promising him the hand of his sister aino. the mother was delighted; but the girl wept that she must now cover her long locks, her curls, her glory, and be the wife of 'the old imperturbable wainamoinen.' it is in vain that her mother offers her dainty food and rich dresses; she flees from home, and wanders till she meets three maidens bathing, and joins them, and is drowned, singing a sad song: 'ah, never may my sister come to bathe in the sea-water, for the drops of the sea are the drops of my blood.' this wild idea occurs in the romaic ballad, [greek], where a drop of blood on the lips of the drowned girl tinges all the waters of the world. to return to the fate of aino. a swift hare runs (as in the zulu legend of the origin of death) with the tale of sorrow to the maiden's mother, and from the mother's tears flow rivers of water, and therein are isles with golden hills where golden birds make melody. as for the old, the imperturbable runoia, he loses his claim to the latter title, he is filled with sorrow, and searches through all the elements for his lost bride. at length he catches a fish which is unknown to him, who, like atlas, 'knew the depths of all the seas.' the strange fish slips from his hands, a 'tress of hair, of drowned maiden's hair,' floats for a moment on the foam, and too late he recognises that 'there was never salmon yet that shone so fair, above the nets at sea.' his lost bride has been within his reach, and now is doubly lost to him. suddenly the waves are cloven asunder, and the mother of nature and of wainamoinen appears, to comfort her son, like thetis from the deep. she bids him go and seek, in the land of pohjola, a bride alien to his race. after many a wild adventure, wainamoinen reaches pohjola and is kindly entreated by loutri, the mother of the maiden of the land. but he grows homesick, and complains, almost in dante's words, of the bitter bread of exile. loutri will only grant him her daughter's hand on condition that he gives her a sampo. a sampo is a mysterious engine that grinds meal, salt, and money. in fact, it is the mill in the well-known fairy tale, 'why the sea is salt.' { } wainamoinen cannot fashion this mill himself, he must seek aid at home from ilmarinen, the smith who forged 'the iron vault of hollow heaven.' as the hero returns to kalevala, he meets the lady of the rainbow, seated on the arch of the sky, weaving the golden thread. she promises to be his, if he will accomplish certain tasks, and in the course of those he wounds himself with an axe. the wound can only be healed by one who knows the mystic words that hold the secret of the birth of iron. the legend of this evil birth, how iron grew from the milk of a maiden, and was forged by the primeval smith, ilmarinen, to be the bane of warlike men, is communicated by wainamoinen to an old magician. the wizard then solemnly curses the iron, _as a living thing_, and invokes the aid of the supreme god ukko, thus bringing together in one prayer the extremes of early religion. then the hero is healed, and gives thanks to the creator, 'in whose hands is the end of a matter.' returning to kalevala, wainamoinen sends ilmarinen to pohjola to make the sampo, 'a mill for corn one day, for salt the next, for money the next.' the fatal treasure is concealed by loutri, and is obviously to play the part of the fairy hoard in the 'nibelungen lied.' with the eleventh canto a new hero, ahti, or lemminkainen, and a new cycle of adventures, is abruptly introduced. lemminkainen is a profligate wanderer, with as many loves as hercules. the fact that he is regarded as a form of the sea-god makes it strange that his most noted achievement, the seduction of the whole female population of his island, should correspond with a like feat of krishna's. 'sixteen thousand and one hundred,' says the vishnu purana, 'was the number of the maidens; and into so many forms did the son of madhu multiply himself, so that every one of the damsels thought that he had wedded her in her single person.' krishna is the sun, of course, and the maidens are the dew-drops; { } it is to be hoped that lemminkainen's connection with sea-water may save him from the solar hypothesis. his first regular marriage is unhappy, and he is slain in trying to capture a bride from the people of pohjola. the black waters of the river of forgetfulness sweep him away, and his comb, which he left with his mother, bursts out bleeding--a frequent incident in russian and other fairy tales. in many household tales, the hero, before setting out on a journey, erects a stick which will fall down when he is in distress, or death. the natives of australia use this form of divination in actual practice, tying round the stick some of the hair of the person whose fate is to be ascertained. then, like demeter seeking persephone, the mother questions all the beings of the world, and their answers show a wonderful poetic sympathy with the silent life of nature. 'the moon said, i have sorrows enough of my own, without thinking of thy child. my lot is hard, my days are evil. i am born to wander companionless in the night, to shine in the season of frost, to watch through the endless winter, to fade when summer comes as king.' the sun is kinder, and reveals the place of the hero's body. the mother collects the scattered limbs, the birds bring healing balm from the heights of heaven, and after a hymn to the goddess of man's blood, lemminkainen is made sound and well, as the scattered 'fragments of no more a man' were united by the spell of medea, like those of osiris by isis, or of the fair countess by the demon blacksmith in the russian marchen, or of the carib hero mentioned by mr. mclennan, { } or of the ox in the south african household tale. with the sixteenth canto we return to wainamoinen, who, like all epic heroes, visits the place of the dead, tuonela. the maidens who play the part of charon are with difficulty induced to ferry over a man bearing no mark of death by fire or sword or water. once among the dead, wainamoinen refuses--being wiser than psyche or persephone--to taste of drink. this 'taboo' is found in japanese, melanesian, and red indian accounts of the homes of the dead. thus the hero is able to return and behold the stars. arrived in the upper world, he warns men to 'beware of perverting innocence, of leading astray the pure of heart; they that do these things shall be punished eternally in the depths of tuoni. there is a place prepared for evil-doers, a bed of stones burning, rocks of fire, worms and serpents.' this speech throws but little light on the question of how far a doctrine of rewards and punishments enters into primitive ideas of a future state. the 'kalevala,' as we possess it, is necessarily, though faintly, tinged with christianity; and the peculiar vices which are here threatened with punishment are not those which would have been most likely to occur to the early heathen singers of this runot. wainamoinen and ilmarinen now go together to pohjola, but the fickle maiden of the land prefers the young forger of the sampo to his elder and imperturbable companion. like a northern medea, or like the master-maid in dr. dasent's 'tales from the norse,' or like the hero of the algonquin tale and the samoan ballad, she aids her alien lover to accomplish the tasks assigned to him. he ploughs with a plough of gold the adder-close, or field of serpents; he bridles the wolf and the bear of the lower world, and catches the pike that swim in the waters of forgetfulness. after this, the parents cannot refuse their consent, the wedding-feast is prepared, and all the world, except the seduisant lemminkainen, is bidden to the banquet. the narrative now brings in the ballads that are sung at a finnish marriage. first, the son-in-law enters the house of the parents of the bride, saying, 'peace abide with you in this illustrious hall.' the mother answers, 'peace be with you even in this lowly hut.' then wainamoinen began to sing, and no man was so hardy as to clasp hands and contend with him in song. next follow the songs of farewell, the mother telling the daughter of what she will have to endure in a strange home: 'thy life was soft and delicate in thy father's house. milk and butter were ready to thy hand; thou wert as a flower of the field, as a strawberry of the wood; all care was left to the pines of the forest, all wailing to the wind in the woods of barren lands. but now thou goest to another home, to an alien mother, to doors that grate strangely on their hinges.' 'my thoughts,' the maiden replies, 'are as a dark night of autumn, as a cloudy day of winter; my heart is sadder than the autumn night, more weary than the winter day.' the maid and the bridegroom are then lyrically instructed in their duties: the girl is to be long-suffering, the husband to try five years' gentle treatment before he cuts a willow wand for his wife's correction. the bridal party sets out for home, a new feast is spread, and the bridegroom congratulated on the courage he must have shown in stealing a girl from a hostile tribe. while all is merry, the mischievous lemminkainen sets out, an unbidden guest, for pohjola. on his way he encounters a serpent, which he slays by the song of serpent-charming. in this 'mystic chain of verse' the serpent is not addressed as the gentle reptile, god of southern peoples, but is spoken of with all hatred and loathing: 'black creeping thing of the low lands, monster flecked with the colours of death, thou that hast on thy skin the stain of the sterile soil, get thee forth from the path of a hero.' after slaying the serpent, lemminkainen reaches pohjola, kills one of his hosts, and fixes his head on one of a thousand stakes for human skulls that stood about the house, as they might round the hut of a dyak in borneo. he then flees to the isle of saari, whence he is driven for his heroic profligacy, and by the hatred of the only girl whom he has _not_ wronged. this is a very pretty touch of human nature. he now meditates a new incursion into pohjola. the mother of pohjola (it is just worth noticing that the leadership assumed by this woman points to a state of society when the family was scarcely formed) calls to her aid 'her child the frost;' but the frost is put to shame by a hymn of the invader's, a song against the cold: 'the serpent was his foster-mother, the serpent with her barren breasts; the wind of the north rocked his cradle, and the ice-wind sang him to sleep, in the midst of the wild marsh-land, where the wells of the waters begin.' it is a curious instance of the animism, the vivid power of personifying all the beings and forces of nature, which marks the 'kalevala,' that the cold speaks to lemminkainen in human voice, and seeks a reconciliation. at this part of the epic there is an obvious lacuna. the story goes to kullervo, a luckless man, who serves as shepherd to ilmarinen. thinking himself ill-treated by the heroic smith's wife, the shepherd changes his flock into bears and wolves, which devour their mistress. then he returns to his own home, where he learns that his sister has been lost for many days, and is believed to be dead. travelling in search of her he meets a girl, loves her, and all unwittingly commits an inexpiable offence. 'then,' says the 'kalevala,' 'came up the new dawn, and the maiden spoke, saying, "what is thy race, bold young man, and who is thy father?" kullervo said, "i am the wretched son of kalerva; but tell me, what is thy race, and who is thy father?" then said the maiden, "i am the wretched daughter of kalerva. ah! would god that i had died, then might i have grown with the green grass, and blossomed with the flowers, and never known this sorrow." with this she sprang into the midst of the foaming waves, and found peace in tuoni, and rest in the waters of forgetfulness.' then there was no word for kullervo, but the bitter moan of the brother in the terrible scotch ballad of the bonny hind, and no rest but in death by his own sword, where grass grows never on his sister's tomb. the epic now draws to a close. ilmarinen seeks a new wife in pohja, and endeavours with wainamoinen's help to recover the mystic sampo. on the voyage, the runoia makes a harp out of the bones of a monstrous fish, so strange a harp that none may play it but himself. when he played, all four-footed things came about him, and the white birds dropped down 'like a storm of snow.' the maidens of the sun and the moon paused in their weaving, and the golden thread fell from their hands. the ancient one of the sea-water listened, and the nymphs of the wells forgot to comb their loose locks with the golden combs. all men and maidens and little children wept, amid the silent joy of nature; nay, the great harper wept, and _of his tears were pearls made_. in the war with pohjola the heroes were victorious, but the sampo was broken in the fight, and lost in the sea, and that, perhaps, is 'why the sea is salt.' fragments were collected, however, and loutri, furious at the success of the heroes of kalevala, sent against them a bear, destructive as the boar of calydon. but wainamoinen despatched the monster, and the body was brought home with the bear-dance, and the hymn of the bear. 'oh, otso,' cry the singers, 'be not angry that we come near thee. the bear, the honey-footed bear, was born in lands between sun and moon, and he died not by men's hands, but of his own will.' the finnish savants are probably right, who find here a trace of the beast- worship which in many lands has placed the bear among the number of the stars. propitiation of the bear is practised by red indians, by the ainos of japan, and (in the case of the 'native bear') by australians. the red indians have a myth to prove that the bear is immortal, does not die, but, after his apparent death, rises again in another body. there is no trace, however, that the finns claimed, like the danes, descent from the bear. the lapps, a people of confused belief, worshipped him along with thor, christ, the sun, and the serpent. { } but another cult, an alien creed, is approaching kalevala. there is no part of the epic more strange than the closing canto, which tells in the wildest language, and through the most exaggerated forms of savage imagination, the tale of the introduction of christianity. marjatta was a maiden, 'as pure as the dew is, as holy as stars are that live without stain.' as she fed her flocks, and listened to the singing of the golden cuckoo, a berry fell into her bosom. after many days she bore a child, and the people despised and rejected her, and she was thrust forth, and her babe was born in a stable, and cradled in the manger. who should baptize the babe? the god of the wilderness refused, and wainamoinen would have had the young child slain. then the infant rebuked the ancient demigod, who fled in anger to the sea, and with his magic song he built a magic barque, and he sat therein, and took the helm in his hand. the tide bore him out to sea, and he lifted his voice and sang: 'times go by, and suns shall rise and set, and then shall men have need of me, and shall look for the promise of my coming that i may make a new sampo, and a new harp, and bring back sunlight and moonshine, and the joy that is banished from the world.' then he crossed the waters, and gained the limits of the sea, and the lower spaces of the sky. here the strange poem ends at its strangest moment, with the cry, which must have been uttered so often, but is heard here alone, of a people reluctantly deserting the gods that it has fashioned in its own likeness, for a faith that has not sprung from its needs or fears. yet it cherishes the hope that this tyranny shall pass over: 'they are gods, and behold they shall die, and the waves be upon them at last.' as the 'kalevala,' and as all relics of folklore, all marchen and ballads prove, the lower mythology--the elemental beliefs of the people--do survive beneath a thin covering of christian conformity. there are, in fact, in religion, as in society, two worlds, of which the one does not know how the other lives. the class whose literature we inherit, under whose institutions we live, at whose shrines we worship, has changed as outworn raiment its manners, its gods, its laws; has looked before and after, has hoped and forgotten, has advanced from the wilder and grosser to the purest faith. beneath the progressive class, and beneath the waves of this troublesome world, there exists an order whose primitive form of human life has been far less changeful, a class which has put on a mere semblance of new faiths, while half-consciously retaining the remains of immemorial cults. obviously, as m. fauriel has pointed out in the case of the modern greeks, the life of such folk contains no element of progress, admits no break in continuity. conquering armies pass and leave them still reaping the harvest of field and river; religions appear, and they are baptized by thousands, but the lower beliefs and dreads that the progressive class has outgrown remain unchanged. thus, to take the instance of modern greece, the high gods of the divine race of achilles and agamemnon are forgotten, but the descendants of the penestae, the villeins of thessaly, still dread the beings of the popular creed, the nereids, the cyclopes, and the lamia. { } the last lesson we would attempt to gather from the 'kalevala' is this: that a comparison of the _thoroughly popular_ beliefs of all countries, the beliefs cherished by the non-literary classes whose ballads and fairy tales have only recently been collected, would probably reveal a general identity, concealed by diversity of name, among the 'lesser people of the skies,' the elves, fairies, cyclopes, giants, nereids, brownies, lamiae. it could then be shown that some of these spirits survive among the lower beings of the mythology of what the germans call a cultur-volk like the greeks or romans. it could also be proved that much of the narrative element in the classic epics is to be found in a popular or childish form in primitive fairy tales. the question would then come to be, have the higher mythologies been developed, by artistic poets, out of the materials of a race which remained comparatively untouched by culture; or are the lower spirits, and the more simple and puerile forms of myth, degradations of the inventions of a cultivated class? the divining rod. there is something remarkable, and not flattering to human sagacity, in the periodical resurrection of superstitions. houses, for example, go on being 'haunted' in country districts, and no educated man notices the circumstance. then comes a case like that of the drummer of tedworth, or the cock lane ghost, and society is deeply moved, philosophers plunge into controversy, and he who grubs among the dusty tracts of the past finds a world of fugitive literature on forgotten bogies. chairs move untouched by human hands, and tables walk about in lonely castles of savoy, and no one marks them, till a day comes when the furniture of some american cottage is similarly afflicted, and then a shoddy new religion is based on the phenomenon. the latest revival among old beliefs is faith in the divining rod. 'our liberal shepherds give it a _shorter_ name,' and so do our conservative peasants, calling the 'rod of jacob' the 'twig.' to 'work the twig' is rural english for the craft of dousterswivel in the 'antiquary,' and perhaps from this comes our slang expression to 'twig,' or divine, the hidden meaning of another. recent correspondence in the newspapers has proved that, whatever may be the truth about the 'twig,' belief in its powers is still very prevalent. respectable people are not ashamed to bear signed witness of its miraculous powers of detecting springs of water and secret mines. it is habitually used by the miners in the mendips, as mr. woodward found ten years ago; and forked hazel divining rods from the mendips are a recognised part of ethnological collections. there are two ways of investigating the facts or fancies about the rod. one is to examine it in its actual operation--a task of considerable labour, which will doubtless be undertaken by the society for psychical research; the other, and easier, way is to study the appearances of the divining wand in history, and that is what we propose to do in this article. when a superstition or belief is widely spread in europe, as the faith in the divining rod certainly is (in germany rods are hidden under babies' clothes when they are baptized), we naturally expect to find traces of it in ancient times and among savages all over the modern world. we have already examined, in 'the bull-roarer,' a very similar example. we saw that there is a magical instrument--a small fish-shaped piece of thin flat wood tied to a thong--which, when whirled in the air, produces a strange noise, a compound of roar and buzz. this instrument is sacred among the natives of australia, where it is used to call together the men, and to frighten away the women from the religious mysteries of the males. the same instrument is employed for similar purposes in new mexico, and in south africa and new zealand--parts of the world very widely distant from each other, and inhabited by very diverse races. it has also been lately discovered that the greeks used this toy, which they called [greek], in the mysteries of dionysus, and possibly it may be identical with the mystica vannus iacchi (virgil, 'georgics,' i. ). the conclusion drawn by the ethnologist is that this object, called turndun by the australians, is a very early savage invention, probably discovered and applied to religious purposes in various separate centres, and retained from the age of savagery in the mystic rites of greeks and perhaps of romans. well, do we find anything analogous in the case of the divining rod? future researches may increase our knowledge, but at present little or nothing is known of the divining rod in classical ages, and not very much (though that little is significant) among uncivilised races. it is true that in all countries rods or wands, the latin virga, have a magical power. virgil obtained his mediaeval repute as a wizard because his name was erroneously connected with virgula, the magic wand. but we do not actually know that the ancient wand of the enchantress circe, in homer, or the wand of hermes, was used, like the divining rod, to indicate the whereabouts of hidden wealth or water. in the homeric hymn to hermes (line ), apollo thus describes the caduceus, or wand of hermes: 'thereafter will i give thee a lovely wand of wealth and riches, a golden wand with three leaves, which shall keep thee ever unharmed.' in later art this wand, or caduceus, is usually entwined with serpents; but on one vase, at least, the wand of hermes is simply the forked twig of our rustic miners and water-finders. the same form is found on an engraved etruscan mirror. { } now, was a wand of this form used in classical times to discover hidden objects of value? that wands were used by scythians and germans in various methods of casting lots is certain; but that is not the same thing as the working of the twig. cicero speaks of a fabled wand by which wealth can be procured; but he says nothing of the method of its use, and possibly was only thinking of the rod of hermes, as described in the homeric hymn already quoted. there was a roman play, by varro, called 'virgula divina'; but it is lost, and throws no light on the subject. a passage usually quoted from seneca has no more to do with the divining rod than with the telephone. pliny is a writer extremely fond of marvels; yet when he describes the various modes of finding wells of water, he says nothing about the divining wand. the isolated texts from scripture which are usually referred to clearly indicate wands of a different sort, if we except hosea iv. , the passage used as motto by the author of 'lettres qui decouvrent l'illusion des philosophes sur la baguette' ( ). this text is translated in our bible, 'my people ask counsel at their stocks, _and their staff declareth unto them_! now, we have here no reference to the search for wells and minerals, but to a form of divination for which the modern twig has ceased to be applied. in rural england people use the wand to find water, but not to give advice, or to detect thieves or murderers; but, as we shall see, the rod has been very much used for these purposes within the last three centuries. this brings us to the moral powers of the twig; and here we find some assistance in our inquiry from the practices of uncivilised races. in john bell was travelling across asia; he fell in with a russian merchant, who told him of a custom common among the mongols. the russian had lost certain pieces of cloth, which were stolen out of his tent. the kutuchtu lama ordered the proper steps to be taken to find out the thief. 'one of the lamas took a bench with four feet, and after turning it in several directions, at last it pointed directly to the tent where the stolen goods were concealed. the lama now mounted across the bench, and soon carried it, or, as was commonly believed, it carried him, to the very tent, where he ordered the damask to be produced. the demand was directly complied with; for it is vain in such cases to offer any excuse.' { a} here we have not a wand, indeed, but a wooden object which turned in the direction, not of water or minerals, but of human guilt. a better instance is given by the rev. h. rowley, in his account of the mauganja. { b} a thief had stolen some corn. the medicine-man, or sorcerer, produced two sticks, which he gave to four young men, two holding each stick. the medicine-man danced and sang a magical incantation, while a zebra-tail and a rattle were shaken over the holders of the sticks. 'after a while, the men with the sticks had spasmodic twitchings of the arms and legs; these increased nearly to convulsions. . . . according to the native idea, _it was the sticks which were possessed primarily_, and through them the men, _who could hardly hold them_. the sticks whirled and dragged the men round and round like mad, through bush and thorny shrub, and over every obstacle; nothing stopped them; their bodies were torn and bleeding. at last they came back to the assembly, whirled round again, and rushed down the path to fall panting and exhausted in the hut of one of a chief's wives. the sticks, rolling to her very feet, denounced her as a thief. she denied it; but the medicine-man answered, "the spirit has declared her guilty; the spirit never lies."' the woman, however, was acquitted, after a proxy trial by ordeal: a cock, used as her proxy, threw up the muavi, or ordeal-poison. here the points to be noted are, first, the violent movement of the sticks, which the men could hardly hold; next, the physical agitation of the men. the former point is illustrated by the confession of a civil engineer writing in the 'times.' this gentleman had seen the rod successfully used for water; he was asked to try it himself, and he determined that it should not twist in his hands 'if an ocean rolled under his feet.' twist it did, however, in spite of all his efforts to hold it, when he came above a concealed spring. another example is quoted in the 'quarterly review,' vol. xxii. p. . a narrator, in whom the editor had 'implicit confidence,' mentions how, when a lady held the twig just over a hidden well, 'the twig turned so quick as to snap, breaking near her fingers.' there seems to be no indiscretion in saying, as the statement has often been printed before, that the lady spoken of in the 'quarterly review' was lady milbanke, mother of the wife of byron. dr. hutton, the geologist, is quoted as a witness of her success in the search for water with the divining rod. he says that, in an experiment at woolwich, 'the twigs twisted themselves off below her fingers, which were considerably indented by so forcibly holding the rods between them.' { } next, the violent excitement of the four young men of the mauganja is paralleled by the physical experience of the lady quoted in the 'quarterly review.' 'a degree of agitation was visible in her face when she first made the experiment; she says this agitation was great' when she began to practise the art, or whatever we are to call it. again, in 'lettres qui decouvrent l'illusion' (p. ), we read that jacques aymar (who discovered the lyons murderer in ) se sent tout emu--feels greatly agitated--when he comes on that of which he is in search. on page of the same volume, the body of the man who holds the divining rod is described as 'violently agitated.' when aymar entered the room where the murder, to be described later, was committed, 'his pulse rose as if he were in a burning fever, and the wand turned rapidly in his hands' ('lettres,' p. ). but the most singular parallel to the performance of the african wizard must be quoted from a curious pamphlet already referred to, a translation of the old french 'verge de jacob,' written, annotated, and published by a mr. thomas welton. mr. welton seems to have been a believer in mesmerism, animal magnetism, and similar doctrines, but the coincidence of his story with that of the african sorcerer is none the less remarkable. it is a coincidence which must almost certainly be 'undesigned.' mr. welton's wife was what modern occult philosophers call a 'sensitive.' in , he wished her to try an experiment with the rod in a garden, and sent a maid-servant to bring 'a certain stick that stood behind the parlour door. in great terror she brought it to the garden, her hand firmly clutched on the stick, nor could she let it go . . . ' the stick was given to mrs. welton, 'and it drew her with very considerable force to nearly the centre of the garden, to a bed of poppies, where she stopped.' here water was found, and the gardener, who had given up his lease as there was no well in the garden, had the lease renewed. we have thus evidence to show (and much more might be adduced) that the belief in the divining rod, or in analogous instruments, is not confined to the european races. the superstition, or whatever we are to call it, produces the same effects of physical agitation, and the use of the rod is accompanied with similar phenomena among mongols, english people, frenchmen, and the natives of central africa. the same coincidences are found in almost all superstitious practices, and in the effects of these practices on believers. the chinese use a form of planchette, which is half a divining rod--a branch of the peach tree; and 'spiritualism' is more than three-quarters of the religion of most savage tribes, a maori seance being more impressive than anything the civilised sludge can offer his credulous patrons. from these facts different people draw different inferences. believers say that the wide distribution of their favourite mysteries is a proof that 'there is something in them.' the incredulous look on our modern 'twigs' and turning-tables and ghost stories as mere 'survivals' from the stage of savage culture, or want of culture, when the fancy of half-starved man was active and his reason uncritical. the great authority for the modern history of the divining rod is a work published by m. chevreuil, in paris, in . m. chevreuil, probably with truth, regarded the wand as much on a par with the turning-tables, which, in , attracted a good deal of attention. he studied the topic historically, and his book, with a few accessible french tracts and letters of the seventeenth century, must here be our guide. a good deal of m. chevreuil's learning, it should be said, is reproduced in mr. baring gould's 'curious myths of the middle ages,' but the french author is much more exhaustive in his treatment of the topic. m. chevreuil could find no earlier book on the twig than the 'testament du frere basil valentin,' a holy man who flourished (the twig) about ; but whose treatise is possibly apocryphal. according to basil valentin, the twig was regarded with awe by ignorant labouring men, which is still true. paracelsus, though he has a reputation for magical daring, thought the use of the twig 'uncertain and unlawful'; and agricola, in his 'de re metallica' ( ) expresses a good deal of scepticism about the use of the rod in mining. a traveller of found that the wand was _not_ used--and this seems to have surprised him--in the mines of macedonia. most of the writers of the sixteenth century accounted for the turning of the rod by 'sympathy,' which was then as favourite an explanation of everything as evolution is to-day. in the baron de beau soleil of bohemia (his name sounds rather bohemian) came to france with his wife, and made much use of the rod in the search for water and minerals. the baroness wrote a little volume on the subject, afterwards reprinted in a great storehouse of this lore, 'la physique occulte,' of vallemont. kircher, a jesuit, made experiments which came to nothing; but gaspard schott, a learned writer, cautiously declined to say that the devil was always 'at the bottom of it' when the rod turned successfully. the problem of the rod was placed before our own royal society by boyle, in , but the society was not more successful here than in dealing with the philosophical difficulty proposed by charles ii. in de saint remain, deserting the old hypothesis of secret 'sympathies,' explained the motion of the rod (supposing it to move) by the action of corpuscules. from this time the question became the playing ground of the cartesian and other philosophers. the struggle was between theories of 'atoms,' magnetism, 'corpuscules,' electric effluvia, and so forth, on one side, and the immediate action of devils or of conscious imposture, on the other. the controversy, comparatively simple as long as the rod only indicated hidden water or minerals, was complicated by the revival of the savage belief that the wand could 'smell out' moral offences. as long as the twig turned over material objects, you could imagine sympathies and 'effluvia' at pleasure. but when the wand twirled over the scene of a murder, or dragged the expert after the traces of the culprit, fresh explanations were wanted. le brun wrote to malebranche on july , , to tell him that the wand only turned over what the holder had the _intention_ of discovering. { } if he were following a murderer, the wand good-naturedly refused to distract him by turning over hidden water. on the other hand, vallemont says that when a peasant was using the wand to find water, it turned over a spot in a wood where a murdered woman was buried, and it conducted the peasant to the murderer's house. these events seem inconsistent with le brun's theory of _intention_. malebranche replied, in effect, that he had only heard of the turning of the wand over water and minerals; that it then turned (if turn it did) by virtue of some such force as electricity; that, if such force existed, the wand would turn over open water. but it does not so turn; and, as physical causes are constant, it follows that the turning of the rod cannot be the result of a physical cause. the only other explanation is an intelligent cause--either the will of an impostor, or the action of a spirit. good spirits would not meddle with such matters; therefore either the devil or an impostor causes the motion of the rod, if it _does_ move at all. this logic of malebranche's is not agreeable to believers in the twig; but there the controversy stood, till, in , jacques aymar, a peasant of dauphine, by the use of the twig discovered one of the lyons murderers. though the story of this singular event is pretty well known, it must here be briefly repeated. no affair can be better authenticated, and our version is abridged from the 'relations' of 'monsieur le procureur du roi, monsieur l'abbe de la garde, monsieur panthot, doyen des medecins de lyon, et monsieur aubert, avocat celebre.' on july , , a vintner and his wife were found dead in the cellar of their shop at lyons. they had been killed by blows from a hedging-knife, and their money had been stolen. the culprits could not be discovered, and a neighbour took upon him to bring to lyons a peasant out of dauphine, named jacques aymar, a man noted for his skill with the divining rod. the lieutenant-criminel and the procureur du roi took aymar into the cellar, furnishing him with a rod of the first wood that came to hand. according to the procureur du roi, the rod did not move till aymar reached the very spot where the crime had been committed. his pulse then rose, and the wand twisted rapidly. 'guided by the wand or by some internal sensation,' aymar now pursued the track of the assassins, entered the court of the archbishop's palace, left the town by the bridge over the rhone, and followed the right bank of the river. he reached a gardener's house, which he declared the men had entered, and some children confessed that three men (_whom they described_) had come into the house one sunday morning. aymar followed the track up the river, pointed out all the places where the men had landed, and, to make a long story short, stopped at last at the door of the prison of beaucaire. he was admitted, looked at the prisoners, and picked out as the murderer a little hunchback (had the children described a hunchback?) who had just been brought in for a small theft. the hunchback was taken to lyons, and he was recognised, on the way, by the people at all the stages where he had stopped. at lyons he was examined in the usual manner, and confessed that he had been an accomplice in the crime, and had guarded the door. aymar pursued the other culprits to the coast, followed them by sea, landed where they had landed, and only desisted from his search when they crossed the frontier. as for the hunchback, he was broken on the wheel, being condemned on his own confession. it does not appear that he was put to the torture to make him confess. if this had been done his admissions would, of course, have been as valueless as those of the victims in trials for witchcraft. this is, in brief, the history of the famous lyons murders. it must be added that many experiments were made with aymar in paris, and that they were all failures. he fell into every trap that was set for him; detected thieves who were innocent, failed to detect the guilty, and invented absurd excuses; alleging, for example, that the rod would not indicate a murderer who had confessed, or who was drunk when he committed his crime. these excuses seem to annihilate the wild contemporary theory of chauvin and others, that the body of a murderer naturally exhales an invisible matiere meurtriere--peculiar indestructible atoms, which may be detected by the expert with the rod. something like the same theory, we believe, has been used to explain the pretended phenomena of haunted houses. but the wildest philosophical credulity is staggered by a matiere meurtriere which is disengaged by the body of a sober, but not by that of an intoxicated, murderer, which survives tempests in the air, and endures for many years, but is dissipated the moment the murderer confesses. believers in aymar have conjectured that his real powers were destroyed by the excitements of paris, and that he took to imposture; but this is an effort of too easy good-nature. when vallemont defended aymar ( ) in the book called 'la physique occulte,' he declared that aymar was physically affected to an unpleasant extent by matiere meurtriere, but was not thus agitated when he used the rod to discover minerals. we have seen that, if modern evidence can be trusted, holders of the rod are occasionally much agitated even when they are only in search of wells. the story gave rise to a prolonged controversy, and the case remains a judicial puzzle, but little elucidated by the confession of the hunchback, who may have been insane, or morbid, or vexed by constant questioning till he was weary of his life. he was only nineteen years of age. the next use of the rod was very much like that of 'tipping' and turning tables. experts held it (as did le pere menestrier, ), questions were asked, and the wand answered by turning in various directions. by way of showing the inconsistency of all philosophies of the wand, it may be said that one girl found that it turned over concealed gold if she held gold in her hand, while another found that it indicated the metal so long as she did _not_ carry gold with her in the quest. in the search for water, ecclesiastics were particularly fond of using the rod. the marechal de boufflers dug many wells, and found no water, on the indications of a rod in the hands of the prieur de dorenic, near guise. in a cure, near toulouse, used the wand to answer questions, which, like planchette, it often answered wrong. the great sourcier, or water- finder, of the eighteenth century was one bleton. he declared that the rod was a mere index, and that physical sensations of the searcher communicated themselves to the wand. this is the reverse of the african theory, that the stick is inspired, while the men who hold it are only influenced by the stick. on the whole, bleton's idea seems the less absurd, but bleton himself often failed when watched with scientific care by the incredulous. paramelle, who wrote on methods of discovering wells, in , came to the conclusion that the wand turns in the hands of certain individuals of peculiar temperament, and that it is very much a matter of chance whether there are, or are not, wells in the places where it turns. on the whole, the evidence for the turning of the wand is a shade better than that for the magical turning of tables. if there are no phenomena of this sort at all, it is remarkable that the belief in them is so widely diffused. but if the phenomena are purely subjective, owing to the conscious or unconscious action of nervous patients, then they are precisely of the sort which the cunning medicine-man observes, and makes his profit out of, even in the earliest stages of society. once introduced, these practices never die out among the conservative and unprogressive class of peasants; and, every now and then, they attract the curiosity of philosophers, or win the belief of the credulous among the educated classes. then comes, as we have lately seen, a revival of ancient superstition. for it were as easy to pluck the comet out of the sky by the tail, as to eradicate superstition from the mind of man. perhaps one good word may be said for the divining rod. considering the chances it has enjoyed, the rod has done less mischief than might have been expected. it might very well have become, in europe, as in asia and africa, a kind of ordeal, or method of searching for and trying malefactors. men like jacques aymar might have played, on a larger scale, the part of hopkins, the witch-finder. aymar was, indeed, employed by some young men to point out, by help of the wand, the houses of ladies who had been more frail than faithful. but at the end of the seventeenth century in france, this research was not regarded with favour, and put the final touch on the discomfiture of aymar. so far as we know, the hunchback of lyons was the only victim of the 'twig' who ever suffered in civilised society. it is true that, in rural england, the movements of a bible, suspended like a pendulum, have been thought to point out the guilty. but even that evidence is not held good enough to go to a jury. hottentot mythology. 'what makes mythology mythological, in the true sense of the word, is what is utterly unintelligible, absurd, strange, or miraculous.' so says mr. max muller in the january number of the nineteenth century for . men's attention would never have been surprised into the perpetual study and questioning of mythology if it had been intelligible and dignified, and if its report had been in accordance with the reason of civilised and cultivated races. what mythologists wish to discover is the origin of the countless disgusting, amazing, and incongruous legends which occur in the myths of all known peoples. according to mr. muller-- there are only two systems possible in which the irrational element in mythology can be accounted for. one school takes the irrational as a matter of fact; and if we read that daphne fled before phoebus, and was changed into a laurel tree, that school would say that there probably was a young lady called aurora, like, for instance, aurora konigsmark; that a young man called robin, or possibly a man with red hair, pursued her, and that she hid behind a laurel tree that happened to be there. this was the theory of euhemeros, re-established by the famous abbe bernier [mr. muller doubtless means banier], and not quite extinct even now. according to another school, the irrational element in mythology is inevitable, and due to the influence of language on thought, so that many of the legends of gods and heroes may be rendered intelligible if only we can discover the original meaning of their proper names. the followers of this school try to show that daphne, the laurel tree, was an old name for the dawn, and that phoibos was one of the many names of the sun, who pursued the dawn till she vanished before his rays. of these two schools, the former has always appealed to the mythologies of savage nations, as showing that gods and heroes were originally human beings, worshipped after their death as ancestors and as gods, while the latter has confined itself chiefly to an etymological analysis of mythological names in greek, latin, and sanskrit, and other languages, such as had been sufficiently studied to admit of a scientific, grammatical, and etymological treatment. this is a long text for our remarks on hottentot mythology; but it is necessary to prove that there are not two schools only of mythologists: that there are inquirers who neither follow the path of the abbe banier, nor of the philologists, but a third way, unknown to, or ignored by mr. muller. we certainly were quite unaware that banier and euhemeros were very specially concerned, as mr. muller thinks, with savage mythology; but it is by aid of savage myths that the school unknown to mr. muller examines the myths of civilised peoples like the greeks. the disciples of mr. muller interpret all the absurdities of greek myth, the gods who are beasts on occasion, the stars who were men, the men who become serpents or deer, the deities who are cannibals and parricides and adulterers, as the result of the influence of aryan speech upon aryan thought. men, in mr. muller's opinion, had originally pure ideas about the gods, and expressed them in language which we should call figurative. the figures remained, when their meaning was lost; the names were then supposed to be gods, the nomina became numina, and out of the inextricable confusion of thought which followed, the belief in cannibal, bestial, adulterous, and incestuous gods was evolved. that is mr. muller's hypothesis; with him the evolution, a result of a disease of language, has been from early comparative purity to later religious abominations. opposed to him is what may be called the school of mr. herbert spencer: the modern euhemerism, which recognises an element of historical truth in myths, as if the characters had been real characters, and which, in most gods, beholds ancestral ghosts raised to a higher power. there remains a third system of mythical interpretation, though mr. muller says only two methods are possible. the method, in this third case, is to see whether the irrational features and elements of civilised greek myth occur also in the myths of savages who speak languages quite unlike those from whose diseases mr. muller derives the corruption of religion. if the same features recur, are they as much in harmony with the mental habits of savages, such as bushmen and hottentots, as they are out of accord with the mental habits of civilised greeks? if this question can be answered in the affirmative, then it may be provisionally assumed that the irrational elements of savage myth are the legacy of savage modes of thought, and have survived in the religion of greece from a time when the ancestors of the greeks were savages. but inquirers who use this method do not in the least believe that either greek or savage gods were, for the more part, originally real men. both greeks and savages have worshipped the ghosts of the dead. both greeks and savages assign to their gods the miraculous powers of transformation and magic, which savages also attribute to their conjurers or shamans. the mantle (if he had a mantle) of the medicine-man has fallen on the god; but zeus, or indra, was not once a real medicine-man. a number of factors combine in the conception of indra, or zeus, as either god appears in sanskrit or greek literature, of earlier or later date. our school does not hold anything so absurd as that daphne was a real girl pursued by a young man. but it has been observed that, among most savage races, metamorphoses like that of daphne not only exist in mythology, but are believed to occur very frequently in actual life. men and women are supposed to be capable of turning into plants (as the bamboo in sarawak), into animals, and stones, and stars, and those metamorphoses happen as contemporary events--for example, in samoa. { } when mr. lane was living at cairo, and translating the 'arabian nights,' he found that the people still believed in metamorphosis. any day, just as in the 'arabian nights,' a man might find himself turned by an enchanter into a pig or a horse. similar beliefs, not derived from language, supply the matter of the senseless incidents in greek myths. savage mythology is also full of metamorphoses. therefore the mythologists whose case we are stating, when they find identical metamorphoses in the classical mythologies, conjecture that these were first invented when the ancestors of the aryans were in the imaginative condition in which a score of rude races are to-day. this explanation they apply to many other irrational elements in mythology. they do not say, 'something like the events narrated in these stories once occurred,' nor 'a disease of language caused the belief in such events,' but 'these stories were invented when men were capable of believing in their occurrence as a not unusual sort of incident' philologists attempt to explain the metamorphoses as the result of some oblivion and confusion of language. apollo, they say, was called the 'wolf-god' (lukeios) by accident: his name really meant the 'god of light.' a similar confusion made the 'seven shiners' into the 'seven bears.' { } these explanations are distrusted, partly because the area to be covered by them is so vast. there is scarcely a star, tree, or beast, but it has been a man or woman once, if we believe civilised and savage myth. two or three possible examples of myths originating in forgetfulness of the meaning of words, even if admitted, do not explain the incalculable crowd of metamorphoses. we account for these by saying that, to the savage mind, which draws no hard and fast line between man and nature, all such things are possible; possible enough, at least, to be used as incidents in story. again, as has elsewhere been shown, the laxity of philological reasoning is often quite extraordinary; while, lastly, philologists of the highest repute flatly contradict each other about the meaning of the names and roots on which they agree in founding their theory. { a} by way of an example of the philological method as applied to savage mythology, we choose a book in many ways admirable, dr. hahn's 'tsuni goam, the supreme being of the khoi khoi.' { b} this book is sometimes appealed to as a crushing argument against the mythologists who adopt the method we have just explained. let us see if the blow be so very crushing. to put the case in a nutshell, the hottentots have commonly been described as a race which worshipped a dead chief, or conjurer--tsui goab his name is, meaning wounded knee, a not unlikely name for a savage. dr. hahn, on the other hand, labours to show that the hottentots originally worshipped no dead chief, but (as a symbol of the infinite) the red dawn. the meaning of the name red dawn, he says, was lost; the words which meant red dawn were erroneously supposed to mean wounded knee, and thus arose the adoration and the myths of a dead chief, or wizard, tsui goab, wounded knee. clearly, if this can be proved, it is an excellent case for the philological school, an admirable example of a myth produced by forgetfulness of the meaning of words. our own opinion is that, even if tsui goab originally meant red dawn, the being, as now conceived of by his adorers, is bedizened in the trappings of the dead medicine-man, and is worshipped just as ghosts of the dead are worshipped. thus, whatever his origin, his myth is freely coloured by the savage fancy and by savage ideas, and we ask no more than this colouring to explain the wildest greek myths. what truly 'primitive' religion was, we make no pretence to know. we only say that, whether greek religion arose from a pure fountain or not, its stream had flowed through and been tinged by the soil of savage thought, before it widens into our view in historical times. but it will be shown that the logic which connects tsui goab with the red dawn is far indeed from being cogent. tsui goab is thought by the hottentots themselves to be a dead man, and it is admitted that among the hottentots dead men are adored. 'cairns are still objects of worship,' { a} and tsui goab lies beneath several cairns. again, soothsayers are believed in (p. ), and tsui goab is regarded as a deceased soothsayer. as early as , a witness quoted by hahn saw women worshipping at one of the cairns of heitsi eibib, another supposed ancestral being. kolb, the old dutch traveller, found that the hottentots, like the bushmen, revered the mantis insect. this creature they called gaunab. they also had some moon myths, practised adoration of the moon, and danced at dawn. thunberg ( ) saw the cairn-worship, and, on asking its meaning, was told that a hottentot lay buried there. { b} thunberg also heard of the worship of the mantis, or grey grasshopper. in liechtenstein noted the cairn-worship, and was told that a renowned hottentot doctor of old times rested under the cairn. appleyard's account of 'the name god in khoi khoi, or hottentot,' deserves quoting in full:-- hottentot: tsoei'koap. namaqua: tsoei'koap. koranna: tshu'koab, and the author adds: 'this is the word from which the kafirs have probably derived their u-tixo, a term which they have universally applied, like the hottentots, to designate the divine being, since the introduction of christianity. its derivation is curious. it consists of two words, which together mean the "wounded knee." it is said to have been originally applied to a doctor or sorcerer of considerable notoriety and skill amongst the hottentots or namaquas some generations back, in consequence of his having received some injury in his knee. having been held in high repute for extraordinary powers during life, he appeared to be invoked even after death, as one who could still relieve and protect; and hence, in process of time, he became nearest in idea to their first conceptions of god.' other missionaries make old wounded knee a good sort of being on the whole, who fights gaunab, a bad being. dr. moffat heard that 'tsui kuap' was 'a notable warrior,' who once received a wound in the knee. sir james alexander { } found that the namaquas believed their 'great father' lay below the cairns on which they flung boughs. this great father was heitsi eibib, and, like other medicine-men, 'he could take many forms.' like tsui goab, he died several times and rose again. hahn gives (p. ) a long account of the wounded knee from an old chief, and a story of the battle between tsui goab, who 'lives in a beautiful heaven,' and gaunab, who 'lives in a dark heaven.' as this chief had dwelt among missionaries very long, we may perhaps discount his remarks on 'heaven' as borrowed. hahn thinks they refer to the red sky in which tsui goab lived, and to the black sky which was the home of gaunab. the two characters in this crude religious dualism thus inhabit light and darkness respectively. * * * * * as far as we have gone, tsui goab, like heitsi eibib among the namas, is a dead sorcerer, whose graves are worshipped, while, with a common inconsistency, he is also thought of as dwelling in the sky. even christians often speak of the dead with similar inconsistency. tsui goab's worship is intelligible enough among a people so credulous that they took hahn himself for a conjurer (p. ), and so given to ancestor- worship that hahn has seen them worship their own fathers' graves, and expect help from men recently dead (pp. , ). but, while the khoi khoi think that tsui goab was once a real man, we need not share their euhemerism. more probably, like unkulunkulu among the zulus, tsui goab is an ideal, imaginary ancestral sorcerer and god. no one man requires many graves, and tsui goab has more than osiris possessed in egypt. { } if the egyptians in some immeasurably distant past were once on the level of namas and hottentots, they would worship osiris at as many barrows as heitsi eibib and tsui goab are adored. in later times the numerous graves of one being would require explanation, and explanations would be furnished by the myth that the body of osiris was torn to pieces and each fragment buried in a separate tomb. again, lame gods occur in greek, australian, and brazilian creeds, and the very coincidence of tsui goab's lameness makes us sceptical about his claims to be a real dead man. on the other hand, when hahn tells us that epical myths are now sung in the dances in honour of warriors lately slain (p. ), and that similar dances and songs were performed in the past to honour tsui goab, this looks more as if tsui goab had been an actual person. against this we must set (p. ) the belief that tsui goab made the first man and woman, and was the prometheus of the hottentots. * * * * * so far dr. hahn has given us facts which entirely fit in with our theory that an ancestor-worshipping people, believing in metamorphosis and sorcery, adores a god who is supposed to be a deceased ancestral sorcerer with the power of magic and metamorphosis. but now dr. hahn offers his own explanation. according to the philological method, he will 'study the names of the persons, until we arrive at the naked root and original meanings of the words.' starting then with tsui goab, whom all evidence declares to be a dead lame conjurer and warrior, dr. hahn avers that 'tsui goab, originally tsuni goam, was the name by which the red men called the infinite.' as the frenchman said of the derivation of jour from _dies_, we may hint that the infinite thus transformed into a lame hottentot 'bush-doctor' is diablement change en route. to a dead lame sorcerer from the infinite is a fall indeed. the process of the decline is thus described. tsui goab is composed of two roots, tsu and goa. goa means 'to go on,' 'to come on.' in khoi khoi goa-b means 'the coming on one,' the dawn, and goa-b also means 'the knee.' dr. hahn next writes (making a logical leap of extraordinary width), 'it is now obvious that, //goab in tsui goab cannot be translated with knee,'--why not?--'but we have to adopt the other metaphorical meaning, the _approaching_ day, i.e. the dawn.' where is the necessity? in ordinary philology, we should here demand a number of attested examples of goab, in the sense of dawn, but in khoi khoi we cannot expect such evidence, as there are probably no texts. next, after arbitrarily deciding that all khoi khois misunderstand their own tongue (for that is what the rendering here of goab by 'dawn' comes to), dr. hahn examines tsu, in tsui. tsu means 'sore,' 'wounded,' 'painful,' as in 'wounded knee'--tsui goab. this does not help dr hahn, for 'wounded dawn' means nothing. but he reflects that a wound is red, tsu means wounded: therefore tsu means red, therefore tsui goab is the red dawn. q.e.d. this kind of reasoning is obviously fallacious. dr. hahn's point could only be made by bringing forward examples in which tsu is employed to mean red in khoi khoi. of this use of the word tsu he does not give one single instance, though on this point his argument depends. his etymology is not strengthened by the fact that tsui goab has once been said to live in the red sky. a red house is not necessarily tenanted by a red man. still less is the theory supported by the hymn which says tsui goab paints himself with red ochre. most idols, from those of the samoyeds to the greek images of dionysus, are and have been daubed with red. by such reasoning is tsui goab proved to be the red dawn, while his gifts of prophecy (which he shares with all soothsayers) are accounted for as attributes of dawn, of the vedic saranyu. turning from tsui goab to his old enemy gaunab, we learn that his name is derived from //gau, 'to destroy,' and, according to old hottentot ideas, 'no one was the destroyer but the night' (p. ). there is no apparent reason why the destroyer should be the night, and the night alone, any more than why 'a lame broken knee' should be 'red' (p. ). besides (p. ), gaunab is elsewhere explained, not as the night, but as the malevolent ghost which is thought to kill people who die what we call a 'natural' death. unburied men change into this sort of vampire, just as elpenor, in the odyssey, threatens, if unburied, to become mischievous. there is another gaunab, the mantis insect, which is worshipped by hottentots and bushmen (p. ). it appears that the two gaunabs are differently pronounced. however that may be, a race which worships an insect might well worship a dead medicine-man. * * * * * the conclusion, then, to be drawn from an examination of hottentot mythology is merely this, that the ideas of a people will be reflected in their myths. a people which worships the dead, believes in sorcerers and in prophets, and in metamorphosis, will have for its god (if he can be called a god) a being who is looked on as a dead prophet and sorcerer. he will be worshipped with such rites as dead men receive; he will be mixed up in such battles as living men wage, and will be credited with the skill which living sorcerers claim. all these things meet in the legend of tsui goab, the so-called 'supreme being' of the hottentots. his connection with the dawn is not supported by convincing argument or evidence. the relation of the dawn to the infinite again rests on nothing but a theory of mr. max muller's. { } his adversary, though recognised as the night, is elsewhere admitted to have been, originally, a common vampire. finally, the hottentots, a people not much removed from savagery, have a mythology full of savage and even disgusting elements. and this is just what we expect from hottentots. the puzzle is when we find myths as low as the story of the incest of heitsi eibib among the greeks. the reason for this coincidence is that, in dr. hahn's words, 'the same objects and the same phenomena in nature will give rise to the same ideas, whether social or mythical, among different races of mankind,' especially when these races are in the same well-defined state of savage fancy and savage credulity. dr. hahn's book has been regarded as a kind of triumph over inquirers who believe that ancestor-worship enters into myth, and that the purer element in myth is the later. but where is the triumph? even on dr. hahn's own showing, ancestor-worship among the hottentots has swamped the adoration of the infinite. it may be said that dr. hahn has at least proved the adoration of the infinite to be earlier than ancestor-worship. but it has been shown that his attempt to establish a middle stage, to demonstrate that the worshipped ancestor was really the red dawn, is not logical nor convincing. even if that middle stage were established, it is a far cry from the worship of dawn (supposed by the australians to be a woman of bad character in a cloak of red' possum-skin) to the adoration of the infinite. our own argument has been successful if we have shown that there are not only two possible schools of mythological interpretation--the euhemeristic, led by mr. spencer, and the philological, led by mr. max muller. we have seen that it is possible to explain the legend of tsui goab without either believing him to have been a real historical person (as mr. spencer may perhaps believe), or his myth to have been the result of a 'disease of language' as mr. muller supposes. we have explained the legend and worship of a supposed dead conjurer as natural to a race which believes in conjurers and worships dead men. whether he was merely an ideal ancestor and warrior, or whether an actual man has been invested with what divine qualities tsui goab enjoys, it is impossible to say; but, if he ever lived, he has long been adorned with ideal qualities and virtues which he never possessed. the conception of the powerful ancestral ghost has been heightened and adorned with some novel attributes of power: the conception of the infinite has not been degraded, by forgetfulness of language, to the estate of an ancestral ghost with a game leg. * * * * * if this view be correct, myth is the result of thought, far more than of a disease of language. the comparative importance of language and thought was settled long ago, in our sense, by no less a person than pragapati, the sanskrit master of life. 'now a dispute once took place between mind and speech, as to which was the better of the two. both mind and speech said, "i am excellent!" mind said, "surely i am better than thou, for thou dost not speak anything that is not understood by me; and since thou art only an imitator of what is done by me and a follower in my wake, i am surely better than thou!" speech said, "surely i am better than thou, for what thou knowest i make known, i communicate." they went to appeal to pragapati for his decision. he (pragapati) decided in favour of mind, saying (to speech), "mind is indeed better than thou, for thou art an imitator of its deeds, and a follower in its wake; and inferior, surely, is he who imitates his better's deeds, and follows in his wake."' so saith the 'satapatha brahmana.' { } fetichism and the infinite. what is the true place of fetichism, to use a common but unscientific term, in the history of religious evolution? some theorists have made fetichism, that is to say, the adoration of odds and ends (with which they have confused the worship of animals, of mountains, and even of the earth), the first moment in the development of worship. others, again, think that fetichism is 'a corruption of religion, in africa, as elsewhere.' the latter is the opinion of mr max muller, who has stated it in his 'hibbert lectures,' on 'the origin and growth of religion, especially as illustrated by the religions of india.' it seems probable that there is a middle position between these two extremes. students may hold that we hardly know enough to justify us in talking about the _origin_ of religion, while at the same time they may believe that fetichism is one of the earliest traceable steps by which men climbed to higher conceptions of the supernatural. meanwhile mr. max muller supports his own theory, that fetichism is a 'parasitical growth,' a 'corruption' of religion, by arguments mainly drawn from historical study of savage creeds, and from the ancient religious documents of india. these documents are to english investigators ignorant of sanskrit 'a book sealed with seven seals.' the vedas are interpreted in very different ways by different oriental scholars. it does not yet appear to be known whether a certain word in the vedic funeral service means 'goat' or 'soul'! mr. max muller's rendering is certain to have the first claim on english readers, and therefore it is desirable to investigate the conclusions which he draws from his vedic studies. the ordinary anthropologist must first, however, lodge a protest against the tendency to look for _primitive_ matter in the vedas. they are the elaborate hymns of a specially trained set of poets and philosophers, living in an age almost of civilisation. they can therefore contain little testimony as to what man, while still 'primitive,' thought about god, the world, and the soul. one might as well look for the first germs of religion, for _primitive_ religion strictly so called, in 'hymns ancient and modern' as in the vedas. it is chiefly, however, by way of deductions from the vedas, that mr. max muller arrives at ideas which may be briefly and broadly stated thus: he inclines to derive religion from man's sense of the infinite, as awakened by natural objects calculated to stir that sense. our position is, on the other hand, that the germs of the religious sense in early man are developed, not so much by the vision of the infinite, as by the idea of power. early religions, in short, are selfish, not disinterested. the worshipper is not contemplative, so much as eager to gain something to his advantage. in fetiches, he ignorantly recognises something that possesses power of an abnormal sort, and the train of ideas which leads him to believe in and to treasure fetiches is one among the earliest springs of religious belief. mr. muller's opinion is the very reverse: he believes that a contemplative and disinterested emotion in the presence of the infinite, or of anything that suggests infinitude or is mistaken for the infinite, begets human religion, while of this religion fetichism is a later corruption. * * * * * in treating of fetichism mr. muller is obliged to criticise the system of de brosses, who introduced this rather unfortunate term to science, in an admirable work, 'le culte des dieux fetiches' ( ). we call the work 'admirable,' because, considering the contemporary state of knowledge and speculation, de brosses's book is brilliant, original, and only now and then rash or confused. mr. muller says that de brosses 'holds that all nations had to begin with fetichism, to be followed afterwards by polytheism and monotheism.' this sentence would lead some readers to suppose that de brosses, in his speculations, was looking for the origin of religion; but, in reality, his work is a mere attempt to explain a certain element in ancient religion and mythology. de brosses was well aware that heathen religions were a complex mass, a concretion of many materials. he admits the existence of regard for the spirits of the dead as one factor, he gives sabaeism a place as another. but what chiefly puzzles him, and what he chiefly tries to explain, is the worship of odds and ends of rubbish, and the adoration of animals, mountains, trees, the sun, and so forth. when he masses all these worships together, and proposes to call them all fetichism (a term derived from the portuguese word for a talisman), de brosses is distinctly unscientific. but de brosses is distinctly scientific when he attempts to explain the animal- worship of egypt, and the respect paid by greeks and romans to shapeless stones, as survivals of older savage practices. the position of de brosses is this: old mythology and religion are a tissue of many threads. sabaeism, adoration of the dead, mythopoeic fancy, have their part in the fabric. among many african tribes, a form of theism, islamite or christian, or self-developed, is superimposed on a mass of earlier superstitions. among these superstitions, is the worship of animals and plants, and the cult of rough stones and of odds and ends of matter. what is the origin of this element, so prominent in the religion of egypt, and present, if less conspicuous, in the most ancient temples of greece? it is the survival, answers de brosses, of ancient practices like those of untutored peoples, as brazilians, samoyeds, negroes, whom the egyptians and pelasgians once resembled in lack of culture. this, briefly stated, is the hypothesis of de brosses. if he had possessed our wider information, he would have known that, among savage races, the worships of the stars, of the dead, and of plants and animals, are interlaced by the strange metaphysical processes of wild men. he would, perhaps, have kept the supernatural element in magical stones, feathers, shells, and so on, apart from the triple thread of sabaeism, ghost-worship, and totemism, with its later development into the regular worship of plants and animals. it must be recognised, however, that de brosses was perfectly well aware of the confused and manifold character of early religion. he had a clear view of the truth that what the religious instinct has once grasped, it does not, as a rule, abandon, but subordinates or disguises, when it reaches higher ideas. and he avers, again and again, that men laid hold of the coarser and more material objects of worship, while they themselves were coarse and dull, and that, as civilisation advanced, they, as a rule, subordinated and disguised the ruder factors in their system. here it is that mr. max muller differs from de brosses. he holds that the adoration of stones, feathers, shells, and (as i understand him) the worship of animals are, even among the races of africa, a corruption of an earlier and purer religion, a 'parasitical development' of religion. however, mr. max muller himself held 'for a long time' what he calls 'de brosses's theory of fetichism.' what made him throw the theory overboard? it was 'the fact that, while in the earliest accessible documents of religious thought we look in vain for any very clear traces of fetichism, they become more and more frequent everywhere in the later stages of religious development, and are certainly more visible in the later corruptions of the indian religion, beginning with the atharvana, than in the earliest hymns of the rig veda.' now, by the earliest accessible documents of religious thought, professor max muller means the hymns of the rig veda. these hymns are composed in the most elaborate metre, by sages of old repute, who, i presume, occupied a position not unlike that of the singers and seers of israel. they lived in an age of tolerably advanced cultivation. they had wide geographical knowledge. they had settled government. they dwelt in states. they had wealth of gold, of grain, and of domesticated animals. among the metals, they were acquainted with that which, in most countries, has been the latest worked--they used iron poles in their chariots. how then can the hymns of the most enlightened singers of a race thus far developed be called 'the earliest religious documents'? oldest they may be, the oldest that are accessible, but that is a very different thing. how can we possibly argue that what is absent in these hymns, is absent because it had not yet come into existence? is it not the very office of pii vates et phoebo digna locuti to purify religion, to cover up decently its rude shapes, as the unhewn stone was concealed in the fane of apollo of delos? if the race whose noblest and oldest extant hymns were pure, exhibits traces of fetichism in its later documents, may not that as easily result from a recrudescence as from a corruption? professor max muller has still, moreover, to explain how the process of corruption which introduced the same fetichistic practices among samoyeds, brazilians, kaffirs, and the people of the atharvana veda came to be everywhere identical in its results. here an argument often urged against the anthropological method may be shortly disposed of. 'you examine savages,' people say, 'but how do you know that these savages were not once much more cultivated; that their whole mode of life, religion and all, is not debased and decadent from an earlier standard?' mr. muller glances at this argument, which, however, cannot serve his purpose. mr. muller has recognised that savage, or 'nomadic,' languages represent a much earlier state of language than anything that we find, for example, in the oldest hebrew or sanskrit texts. 'for this reason,' he says, { } 'the study of what i call _nomad_ languages, as distinguished from _state_ languages, becomes so instructive. we see in them what we can no longer expect to see even in the most ancient sanskrit or hebrew. we watch the childhood of language with all its childish freaks.' yes, adds the anthropologist, and for this reason the study of savage religions, as distinguished from state religions, becomes so instructive. we see in them what we can no longer expect to see even in the most ancient sanskrit or hebrew faiths. we watch the childhood of religion with all its childish freaks. if this reasoning be sound when the kaffir tongue is contrasted with ancient sanskrit, it should be sound when the kaffir faith is compared with the vedic faith. by parity of reasoning, the religious beliefs of peoples as much less advanced than the kaffirs as the kaffirs are less advanced than the vedic peoples, should be still nearer the infancy of faith, still 'nearer the beginning.' we have been occupied, perhaps, too long with de brosses and our apology for de brosses. let us now examine, as shortly as possible, mr. max muller's reasons for denying that fetichism is 'a primitive form of religion.' the negative side of his argument being thus disposed of, it will then be our business to consider ( ) his psychological theory of the subjective element in religion, and ( ) his account of the growth of indian religion. the conclusion of the essay will be concerned with demonstrating that mr. max muller's system assigns little or no place to the superstitious beliefs without which, in other countries than india, society could not have come into organised existence. * * * * * in his polemic against fetichism, it is not always very easy to see against whom mr. muller is contending. it is one thing to say that fetichism is a 'primitive form of religion,' and quite another to say that it is 'the very beginning of all religion.' occasionally he attacks the 'comtian theory,' which, i think, is not now held by many people who study the history of man, and which i am not concerned to defend. he says that the portuguese navigators who discovered among the negroes 'no other trace of any religious worship' except what they called the worship of feiticos, concluded that this was the whole of the religion of the negroes (p. ). mr. muller then goes on to prove that 'no religion consists of fetichism only,' choosing his examples of higher elements in negro religion from the collections of waitz. it is difficult to see what bearing this has on his argument. de brosses (p. ) shows that _he_, at least, was well aware that many negro tribes have higher conceptions of the deity than any which are implied in fetich-worship. even if no tribe in the world is exclusively devoted to fetiches, the argument makes no progress. perhaps no extant tribe is in the way of using unpolished stone weapons and no others, but it does not follow that unpolished stone weapons are not primitive. it is just as easy to maintain that the purer ideas have, by this time, been reached by aid of the stepping-stones of the grosser, as that the grosser are the corruption of the purer. mr. max muller constantly asserts that the 'human mind advanced by small and timid steps from what is intelligible, to what is at first sight almost beyond comprehension' (p. ). among the objects which aided man to take these small and timid steps, he reckons rivers and trees, which excited, he says, religious awe. what he will not suppose is that the earliest small and timid steps were not unaided by such objects as the fetichist treasures--stones, shells, and so forth, which suggest no idea of infinity. stocks he will admit, but not, if he can help it, stones, of the sort that negroes and kanekas and other tribes use as fetiches. his reason is, that he does not see how the scraps of the fetichist can appeal to the feeling of the infinite, which feeling is, in his theory, the basis of religion. after maintaining (what is readily granted) that negroes have a religion composed of many elements, mr. muller tries to discredit the evidence about the creeds of savages, and discourses on the many minute shades of progress which exist among tribes too often lumped together as if they were all in the same condition. here he will have all scientific students of savage life on his side. it remains true, however, that certain elements of savage practice, fetichism being one of them, are practically ubiquitous. thus, when mr. muller speaks of 'the influence of public opinion' in biassing the narrative of travellers, we must not forget that the strongest evidence about savage practice is derived from the 'undesigned coincidence' of the testimonies of all sorts of men, in all ages, and all conditions of public opinion. 'illiterate men, ignorant of the writings of each other, bring the same reports from various quarters of the globe,' wrote millar of glasgow. when sailors, merchants, missionaries, describe, as matters unprecedented and unheard of, such institutions as polyandry, totemism, and so forth, the evidence is so strong, because the witnesses are so astonished. they do not know that anyone but themselves has ever noticed the curious facts before their eyes. and when mr. muller tries to make the testimony about savage faith still more untrustworthy, by talking of the 'absence of recognised authority among savages,' do not let us forget that custom ([greek]) is a recognised authority, and that the punishment of death is inflicted for transgression of certain rules. these rules, generally speaking, are of a religious nature, and the religion to which they testify is of the sort known (too vaguely) as 'fetichistic.' let us keep steadily before our minds, when people talk of lack of evidence, that we have two of the strongest sorts of evidence in the world for the kind of religion which least suits mr. muller's argument--( ) the undesigned coincidences of testimony, ( ) the irrefutable witness and sanction of elementary criminal law. mr. muller's own evidence is that much-disputed work, where 'all men see what they want to see, as in the clouds,' and where many see systematised fetichism--the veda. { } the first step in mr. max muller's polemic was the assertion that fetichism is nowhere unmixed. we have seen that the fact is capable of an interpretation that will suit either side. stages of culture overlap each other. the second step in his polemic was the effort to damage the evidence. we have seen that we have as good evidence as can be desired. in the third place he asks, what are the antecedents of fetich-worship? he appears to conceive himself to be arguing with persons (p. ) who 'have taken for granted that every human being was miraculously endowed with the concept of what forms the predicate of every fetich, call it power, spirit, or god.' if there are reasoners so feeble, they must be left to the punishment inflicted by mr. muller. on the other hand, students who regard the growth of the idea of power, which is the predicate of every fetish, as a slow process, as the result of various impressions and trains of early half-conscious reasoning, cannot be disposed of by the charge that they think that 'every human being was miraculously endowed' with any concept whatever. they, at least, will agree with mr. max muller that there are fetiches and fetiches, that to one reverence is assigned for one reason, to another for another. unfortunately, it is less easy to admit that mr. max muller has been happy in his choice of ancient instances. he writes (p. ): 'sometimes a stock or a stone was worshipped because it was a forsaken altar or an ancient place of judgment, sometimes because it marked the place of a great battle or a murder, or the burial of a king.' here he refers to pausanias, book i. , , and viii. , . { } in both of these passages, pausanias, it is true, mentions stones--in the first passage stones on which men stood [greek], in the second, barrows heaped up in honour of men who fell in battle. in neither case, however, do i find anything to show that the stones were worshipped. these stones, then, have no more to do with the argument than the milestones which certainly exist on the dover road, but which are not the objects of superstitious reverence. no! the fetich-stones of greece were those which occupied the holy of holies of the most ancient temples, the mysterious fanes within dark cedar or cypress groves, to which men were hardly admitted. they were the stones and blocks which bore the names of gods, hera, or apollo, names perhaps given, as de brosses says, to the old fetichistic objects of worship, _after_ the anthropomorphic gods entered hellas. this, at least is the natural conclusion from the fact that the apollo and hera of untouched wood or stone were confessedly the _oldest_. religion, possessing an old fetich did not run the risk of breaking the run of luck by discarding it, but wisely retained and renamed it. mr. max muller says that the unhewn lump may indicate a higher power of abstraction than the worship paid to the work of phidias; but in that case all the savage adorers of rough stones _may_ be in a stage of more abstract thought than these contemporaries of phidias who had such very hard work to make greek thought abstract. mr muller founds a very curious argument on what he calls 'the ubiquity of fetichism.' like de brosses, he compiles (from pausanias) a list of the rude stones worshipped by the early greeks. he mentions various examples of fetichistic superstitions in rome. he detects the fetichism of popular catholicism, and of russian orthodoxy among the peasants. here, he cries, in religions the history of which is known to us, fetichism is secondary, 'and why should fetiches in africa, where we do not know the earlier development of religion, be considered as primary?' what a singular argument! according to pausanias, this fetichism (if fetichism it is) _was_ primary, in greece. the _oldest_ temples, in their holiest place, held the oldest fetich. in rome, it is at least probable that fetichism, as in greece, was partly a survival, partly a new growth from the primal root of human superstitions. as to catholicism, the records of councils, the invectives of the church, show us that, from the beginning, the secondary religion in point of time, the religion of the church, laboured vainly to suppress, and had in part to tolerate, the primary religion of childish superstitions. the documents are before the world. as to the russians, the history of their conversion is pretty well known. jaroslaf, or vladimir, or some other evangelist, had whole villages baptized in groups, and the pagan peasants naturally kept up their primary semi-savage ways of thought and worship, under the secondary varnish of orthodoxy. in all mr. max muller's examples, then, fetichism turns out to be _primary_ in point of time; _secondary_ only, as subordinate to some later development of faith, or to some lately superimposed religion. accepting his statement that fetichism is ubiquitous, we have the most powerful a priori argument that fetichism is primitive. as religions become developed they are differentiated; it only fetichism that you find the same everywhere. thus the bow and arrow have a wide range of distribution: the musket, one not so wide; the martini-henry rifle, a still narrower range: it is the primitive stone weapons that are ubiquitous, that are found in the soil of england, egypt, america, france, greece, as in the hands of dieyries and admiralty islanders. and just as rough stone knives are earlier than iron ones (though the same race often uses both), so fetichism is more primitive than higher and purer faiths, though the same race often combines fetichism and theism. no one will doubt the truth of this where weapons are concerned; but mr. max muller will not look at religion in this way. mr. max muller's remarks on 'zoolatry,' as de brosses calls it, or animal- worship, require only the briefest comment. de brosses, very unluckily, confused zoolatry with other superstitions under the head of fetichism. this was unscientific; but is it scientific of mr. max muller to discuss animal-worship without any reference to totemism? the worship of sacred animals is found, in every part of the globe, to be part of the sanction of the most stringent and important of all laws, the laws of marriage. it is an historical truth that the society of ashantees, choctaws, australians, is actually constructed by the operation of laws which are under the sanction of various sacred plants and animals. { } there is scarcely a race so barbarous that these laws are not traceable at work in its society, nor a people (especially an ancient people) so cultivated that its laws and religion are not full of strange facts most easily explained as relics of totemism. now note that actual living totemism is always combined with the rudest ideas of marriage, with almost repulsive ideas about the family. presumably, this rudeness is earlier than culture, and therefore this form of animal-worship is one of the earliest religions that we know. the almost limitless distribution of the phenomena, their regular development, their gradual disappearance, all point to the fact that they are all very early and everywhere produced by similar causes. of all these facts, mr. max muller only mentions one--that many races have called themselves snakes, and he thinks they might naturally adopt the snake for ancestor, and finally for god. he quotes the remark of diodorus that 'the snake may either have been made a god because he was figured on the banners, or may have been figured on the banners because he was a god'; to which de brosses, with his usual sense, rejoins--'we represent saints on our banners because we revere them; we do not revere them because we represent them on our banners.' in a discussion about origins, and about the corruption of religion, it would have been well to account for institutions and beliefs almost universally distributed. we know, what de brosses did not, that zoolatry is inextricably blent with laws and customs which surely must be early, if not primitive, because they make the working faith of societies in which male descent and the modern family are not yet established. anyone who wishes to show that this sort of society is a late corruption, not an early stage in evolution towards better things, has a difficult task before him, which, however, he must undertake, before he can prove zoolatry to be a corruption of religion. as to the worship of ancestral and embodied human spirits, which (it has been so plausibly argued) is the first moment in religion, mr. max muller dismisses it, here, in eleven lines and a half. an isolated but important allusion at the close of his lectures will be noticed in its place. the end of the polemic against the primitiveness of fetichism deals with the question, 'whence comes the supernatural predicate of the fetich?' if a negro tells us his fetich is a god, whence got he the idea of 'god'? many obvious answers occur. mr. muller says, speaking of the indians (p. ): 'the concept of _gods_ was no doubt growing up while men were assuming a more and more definite attitude towards these semi-tangible and intangible objects'--trees, rivers, hills, the sky, the sun, and so on, which he thinks suggested and developed, by aid of a kind of awe, the religious feeling of the infinite. we too would say that, among people who adore fetiches and ghosts, the concept of gods no doubt silently grew up, as men assumed a more and more definite attitude towards the tangible and intangible objects they held sacred. again, negroes have had the idea of god imported among them by christians and islamites, so that, even if they did not climb (as de brosses grants that many of them do) to purer religious ideas unaided, these ideas are now familiar to them, and may well be used by them, when they have to explain a fetich to a european. mr. max muller explains the origin of religion by a term ('the infinite ') which, he admits, the early people would not have comprehended. the negro, if he tells a white man that a fetich is a god, transposes terms in the same unscientific way. mr. muller asks, 'how do these people, when they have picked up their stone or their shell, pick up, at the same time, the concepts of a supernatural power, of spirit, of god, and of worship paid to some unseen being?' but who says that men picked up these ideas _at the same time_? these ideas were evolved by a long, slow, complicated process. it is not at all impossible that the idea of a kind of 'luck' attached to this or that object, was evolved by dint of meditating on a mere series of lucky accidents. such or such a man, having found such an object, succeeded in hunting, fishing, or war. by degrees, similar objects might be believed to command success. thus burglars carry bits of coal in their pockets, 'for luck.' this random way of connecting causes and effects which have really no inter-relation, is a common error of early reasoning. mr. max muller says that 'this process of reasoning is far more in accordance with modern thought'; if so, modern thought has little to be proud of. herodotus, however, describes the process of thought as consecrated by custom among the egyptians. but there are many other practical ways in which the idea of supernatural power is attached to fetiches. some fetich-stones have a superficial resemblance to other objects, and thus (on the magical system of reasoning) are thought to influence these objects. others, again, are pointed out as worthy of regard in dreams or by the ghosts of the dead. { } to hold these views of the origin of the supernatural predicate of fetiches is not 'to take for granted that every human being was miraculously endowed with the concept of what forms the predicate of every fetich.' thus we need not be convinced by mr. max muller that fetichism (though it necessarily has its antecedents in the human mind) is 'a corruption of religion.' it still appears to be one of the most primitive steps towards the idea of the supernatural. what, then, is the subjective element of religion in man? how has he become capable of conceiving of the supernatural? what outward objects first awoke that dormant faculty in his breast? mr. max muller answers, that man has 'the faculty of apprehending the infinite'--that by dint of this faculty he is capable of religion, and that sensible objects, 'tangible, semi-tangible, intangible,' first roused the faculty to religious activity, at least among the natives of india. he means, however, by the 'infinite' which savages apprehend, not our metaphysical conception of the infinite, but the mere impression that there is 'something beyond.' 'every thing of which his senses cannot perceive a limit, is to a primitive savage or to any man in an early stage of intellectual activity _unlimited_ or _infinite_? thus, in all experience, the idea of 'a beyond' is forced on men. if mr. max muller would adhere to this theory, then we should suppose him to mean (what we hold to be more or less true) that savage religion, like savage science, is merely a fanciful explanation of what lies beyond the horizon of experience. for example, if the australians mentioned by mr. max muller believe in a being who created the world, a being whom they do not worship, and to whom they pay no regard (for, indeed, he has become 'decrepit'), their theory is scientific, not religious. they have looked for the causes of things, and are no more religious (in so doing) than newton was when he worked out his theory of gravitation. the term 'infinite' is wrongly applied, because it is a term of advanced thought used in explanation of the ideas of men who, mr. max muller says, were incapable of conceiving the meaning of such a concept. again, it is wrongly applied, because it has some modern religious associations, which are covertly and fallaciously introduced to explain the supposed emotions of early men. thus, mr. muller says (p. )--he is giving his account of the material things that awoke the religious faculty--'the mere sight of the torrent or the stream would have been enough to call forth in the hearts of the early dwellers on the earth . . . a feeling that they were surrounded on all sides by powers invisible, infinite, or divine.' here, if i understand mr. muller, 'infinite' is used in our modern sense. the question is, how did men ever come to believe in powers infinite, invisible, divine? if mr. muller's words mean anything, they mean that a dormant feeling that there were such existences lay in the breast of man, and was wakened into active and conscious life, by the sight of a torrent or a stream. how, to use mr. muller's own manner, did these people, when they saw a stream, have mentally, at the same time, 'a feeling of _infinite_ powers?' if this is not the expression of a theory of 'innate religion' (a theory which mr. muller disclaims), it is capable of being mistaken for that doctrine by even a careful reader. the feeling of 'powers infinite, invisible, divine,' _must_ be in the heart, or the mere sight of a river could not call it forth. how did the feeling get into the heart? that is the question. the ordinary anthropologist distinguishes a multitude of causes, a variety of processes, which shade into each other and gradually produce the belief in powers invisible, infinite, and divine. what tribe is unacquainted with dreams, visions, magic, the apparitions of the dead? add to these the slow action of thought, the conjectural inferences, the guesses of crude metaphysics, the theories of isolated men of religious and speculative genius. by all these and other forces manifold, that emotion of awe in presence of the hills, the stars, the sea, is developed. mr. max muller cuts the matter shorter. the early inhabitants of earth saw a river, and the 'mere sight' of the torrent called forth the feelings which (to us) seem to demand ages of the operation of causes disregarded by mr. muller in his account of the origin of indian religion. the mainspring of mr. muller's doctrine is his theory about 'apprehending the infinite.' early religion, or at least that of india, was, in his view, the extension of an idea of vastness, a disinterested emotion of awe. { a} elsewhere, we think, early religion has been a development of ideas of force, an interested search, not for something wide and far and hard to conceive, but for something practically _strong_ for good and evil. mr. muller (taking no count in this place of fetiches, ghosts, dreams and magic) explains that the sense of 'wonderment' was wakened by objects only semi-tangible, trees, which are _taller_ than we are, 'whose roots are beyond our reach, and which have a kind of life in them.' 'we are dealing with a quartenary, it may be a tertiary troglodyte,' says mr. muller. if a tertiary troglodyte was like a modern andaman islander, a kaneka, a dieyrie, would he stand and meditate in awe on the fact that a tree was taller than he, or had 'a kind of life,' 'an unknown and unknowable, yet undeniable something'? { b} why, this is the sentiment of modern germany, and perhaps of the indian sages of a cultivated period! a troglodyte would look for a 'possum in the tree, he would tap the trunk for honey, he would poke about in the bark after grubs, or he would worship anything odd in the branches. is mr. muller not unconsciously transporting a kind of modern malady of thought into the midst of people who wanted to find a dinner, and who might worship a tree if it had a grotesque shape, that, for them, had a magical meaning, or if boilyas lived in its boughs, but whose practical way of dealing with the problem of its life was to burn it round the stem, chop the charred wood with stone axes, and use the bark, branches, and leaves as they happened to come handy? mr. muller has a long list of semi-tangible objects 'overwhelming and overawing,' like the tree. there are mountains, where 'even a stout heart shivers before the real presence of the _infinite_'; there are rivers, those instruments of so sudden a religious awakening; there is earth. these supply the material for semi-deities. then come sky, stars, dawn, sun, and moon: 'in these we have the germs of what, hereafter, we shall have to call by the name of deities.' before we can transmute, with mr. muller, these objects of a somewhat vague religious regard into a kind of gods, we have to adopt noire's philological theories, and study the effects of auxiliary verbs on the development of personification and of religion. noire's philological theories are still, i presume, under discussion. they are necessary, however, to mr. muller's doctrine of the development of the vague 'sense of the infinite' (wakened by fine old trees, and high mountains) into devas, and of devas (which means 'shining ones') into the vedic gods. our troglodyte ancestors, and their sweet feeling for the spiritual aspect of landscape, are thus brought into relation with the rishis of the vedas, the sages and poets of a pleasing civilisation. the reverence felt for such comparatively refined or remote things as fire, the sun, wind, thunder, the dawn, furnished a series of stepping-stones to the vedic theology, if theology it can be called. it is impossible to give each step in detail; the process must be studied in mr. muller's lectures. nor can we discuss the later changes of faith. as to the processes which produced the fetichistic 'corruption' (that universal and everywhere identical form of decay), mr. muller does not afford even a hint. he only says that, when the indians found that their old gods were mere names, 'they built out of the scattered bricks a new altar to the unknown god'--a statement which throws no light on the parasitical development of fetichism. but his whole theory is deficient if, having called fetichism a _corruption_, he does not show how corruption arose, how it operated, and how the disease attacked all religions everywhere. we have contested, step by step, many of mr. muller's propositions. if space permitted, it would be interesting to examine the actual attitude of certain contemporary savages, bushmen and others, towards the sun. contemporary savages may be degraded, they certainly are not primitive, but their _legends_, at least, are the oldest things they possess. the supernatural elements in their ideas about the sun are curiously unlike those which, according to mr. muller, entered into the development of aryan religion. the last remark which has to be made about mr. muller's scheme of the development of aryan religion is that the religion, as explained by him, does not apparently aid the growth of society, nor work with it in any way. let us look at a sub-barbaric society--say that of zululand, of new zealand, of the iroquois league, or at a savage society like that of the kanekas, or of those australian tribes about whom we have very many interesting and copious accounts. if we begin with the australians, we observe that society is based on certain laws of marriage enforced by capital punishment. these laws of marriage forbid the intermixing of persons belonging to the stock which worships this or that animal, or plant. now this rule, as already observed, _made_ the 'gentile' system (as mr. morgan erroneously calls it) the system which gradually reduces tribal hostility, by making tribes homogeneous. the same system (with the religious sanction of a kind of zoolatry) is in force and has worked to the same result, in africa, asia, america, and australia, while a host of minute facts make it a reasonable conclusion that it prevailed in europe. among these facts certain peculiarities of greek and roman and hindoo marriage law, greek, latin, and english tribal names, and a crowd of legends are the most prominent. { } mr. max muller's doctrine of the development of indian religion (while admitting the existence of snake or naga tribes) takes no account of the action of this universal zoolatry on religion and society. after marriage and after tribal institutions, look at _rank_. is it not obvious that the religious elements (magic and necromancy) left out of his reckoning by mr. muller are most powerful in developing rank? even among those democratic paupers, the fuegians, 'the doctor-wizard of each party has much influence over his companions.' among those other democrats, the eskimo, a class of wizards, called angakuts, become 'a kind of civil magistrates,' because they can cause fine weather, and can magically detect people who commit offences. thus the germs of rank, in these cases, are sown by the magic which is fetichism in action. try the zulus: 'the heaven is the chief's,' he can call up clouds and storms, hence the sanction of his authority. in new zealand, every rangatira has a supernatural power. if he touches an article, no one else dares to appropriate it, for fear of terrible supernatural consequences. a head chief is 'tapued an inch thick, and perfectly unapproachable.' magical power abides in and emanates from him. by this superstition, an aristocracy is formed, and property (the property, at least, of the aristocracy) is secured. among the red indians, as schoolcraft says, 'priests and jugglers are the persons that make war and have a voice in the sale of the land.' mr. e. w. robertson says much the same thing about early scotland. if odin was not a god with the gifts of a medicine- man, and did not owe his chiefship to his talent for dealing with magic, he is greatly maligned. the irish brehons also sanctioned legal decisions by magical devices, afterwards condemned by the church. among the zulus, 'the itongo (spirit) dwells with the great man; he who dreams is the chief of the village.' the chief alone can 'read in the vessel of divination.' the kaneka chiefs are medicine-men. here then, in widely distant regions, in early european, american, melanesian, african societies, we find those factors in religion which the primitive aryans are said to have dispensed with, helping to construct society, rank, property. is it necessary to add that the ancestral spirits still 'rule the present from the past,' and demand sacrifice, and speak to 'him who dreams,' who, therefore, is a strong force in society, if not a chief? mr. herbert spencer, mr. tylor, m. fustel de coulanges, a dozen others, have made all this matter of common notoriety. as hearne the traveller says about the copper river indians, 'it is almost necessary that they who rule them should profess something a little supernatural to enable them to deal with the people.' the few examples we have given show how widely, and among what untutored races, the need is felt. the rudimentary government of early peoples requires, and, by aid of dreams, necromancy, 'medicine' (i.e. fetiches), tapu, and so forth, obtains, a supernatural sanction. where is the supernatural sanction that consecrated the chiefs of a race which woke to the sense of the existence of infinite beings, in face of trees, rivers, the dawn, the sun, and had none of the so-called late and corrupt fetichism that does such useful social work? to the student of other early societies, mr. muller's theory of the growth of aryan religion seems to leave society without cement, and without the most necessary sanctions. one man is as good as another, before a tree, a river, a hill. the savage organisers of other societies found out fetiches and ghosts that were 'respecters of persons.' zoolatry is intertwisted with the earliest and most widespread law of prohibited degrees. how did the hindoos dispense with the aid of these superstitions? well, they did not quite dispense with them. mr. max muller remarks, almost on his last page ( ), that 'in india also . . . the thoughts and feelings about those whom death had separated from us for a time, supplied some of the earliest and most important elements of religion.' if this was the case, surely the presence of those elements and their influence should have been indicated along with the remarks about the awfulness of trees and the suggestiveness of rivers. is nothing said about the spirits of the dead and their cult in the vedas? much is said, of course. but, were it otherwise, then other elements of savage religion may also have been neglected there, and it will be impossible to argue that fetichism did not exist because it is not mentioned. it will also be impossible to admit that the 'hibbert lectures' give more than a one-sided account of the origin of indian religion. the perusal of mr. max muller's book deeply impresses one with the necessity of studying early religions and early societies simultaneously. if it be true that early indian religion lacked precisely those superstitions, so childish, so grotesque, and yet so useful, which we find at work in contemporary tribes, and which we read of in history, the discovery is even more remarkable and important than the author of the 'hibbert lectures' seems to suppose. it is scarcely necessary to repeat that the negative evidence of the vedas, the religious utterances of sages, made in a time of what we might call 'heroic culture,' can never disprove the existence of superstitions which, if current in the former experience of the race, the hymnists, as barth observes, would intentionally ignore. our object has been to defend the 'primitiveness of fetichism.' by this we do not mean to express any opinion as to whether fetichism (in the strictest sense of the word) was or was not earlier than totemism, than the worship of the dead, or than the involuntary sense of awe and terror with which certain vast phenomena may have affected the earliest men. we only claim for the powerful and ubiquitous practices of fetichism a place _among_ the early elements of religion, and insist that what is so universal has not yet been shown to be 'a corruption' of something older and purer. one remark of mr. max muller's fortifies these opinions. if fetichism be indeed one of the earliest factors of faith in the supernatural; if it be, in its rudest forms, most powerful in proportion to other elements of faith among the least cultivated races (and _that_ mr. muller will probably allow)--among what class of cultivated peoples will it longest hold its ground? clearly, among the least cultivated, among the fishermen, the shepherds of lonely districts, the peasants of outlying lands--in short, among the _people_. neglected by sacred poets in the culminating period of purity in religion, it will linger among the superstitions of the rustics. there is no real break in the continuity of peasant life; the modern folklore is (in many points) the savage ritual. now mr. muller, when he was minimising the existence of fetichism in the rig veda (the oldest collection of hymns), admitted its existence in the atharvana (p. ). { } on p. , we read 'the atharva-veda-sanhita is a later collection, containing, besides a large number of rig veda verses, _some curious relics of popular poetry connected with charms, imprecations, and other superstitious usages_.' the italics are mine, and are meant to emphasise this fact:--when we leave the sages, the rishis, and look at what is _popular_, look at what that class believed which of savage practice has everywhere retained so much, we are at once among the charms and the fetiches! this is precisely what one would have expected. if the history of religion and of mythology is to be unravelled, we must examine what the unprogressive classes in europe have in common with australians, and bushmen, and andaman islanders. it is the function of the people to retain in folklore these elements of religion, which it is the high duty of the sage and the poet to purify away in the fire of refining thought. it is for this very reason that _ritual_ has (though mr. max muller curiously says that it seems not to possess) an immense scientific interest. ritual holds on, with the tenacity of superstition, to all that has ever been practised. yet, when mr. muller wants to know about _origins_, about actual ancient _practice_, he deliberately turns to that 'great collection of ancient poetry' (the rig veda) 'which has no special reference to sacrificial acts,' not to the brahmanas which are full of ritual. to sum up briefly:--( ) mr. muller's arguments against the evidence for, and the primitiveness of, fetichism seem to demonstrate the opposite of that which he intends them to prove. ( ) his own evidence for _primitive_ practice is chosen from the documents of a _cultivated_ society. ( ) his theory deprives that society of the very influences which have elsewhere helped the tribe, the family, rank, and priesthoods to grow up, and to form the backbone of social existence. the early history of the family. what are the original forms of the human family? did man begin by being monogamous or polygamous, but, in either case, the master of his own home and the assured central point of his family relations? or were the unions of the sexes originally shifting and precarious, so that the wisest child was not expected to know his own father, and family ties were reckoned through the mother alone? again (setting aside the question of what was 'primitive' and 'original'), did the needs and barbarous habits of early men lead to a scarcity of women, and hence to polyandry (that is, the marriage of one woman to several men), with the consequent uncertainty about male parentage? once more, admitting that these loose and strange relations of the sexes do prevail, or have prevailed, among savages, is there any reason to suppose that the stronger races, the aryan and semitic stocks, ever passed through this stage of savage customs? these are the main questions debated between what we may call the 'historical' and the 'anthropological' students of ancient customs. when sir henry maine observed, in , that it was difficult to say what society of men had _not been_, originally, based on the patriarchal family, he went, of course, outside the domain of history. what occurred in the very origin of human society is a question perhaps quite inscrutable. certainly, history cannot furnish the answer. here the anthropologist and physiologist come in with their methods, and even those, we think, can throw but an uncertain light on the very 'origin' of institutions, and on strictly primitive man. for the purposes of this discussion, we shall here re-state the chief points at issue between the adherents of sir henry maine and of mr. m'lennan, between historical and anthropological inquirers. . did man _originally_ live in the patriarchal family, or did he live in more or less modified promiscuity, with uncertainty of blood-ties, and especially of male parentage? . did circumstances and customs at some time compel or induce man (whatever his _original_ condition) to resort to practices which made paternity uncertain, and so caused kinship to be reckoned through women? . granting that some races have been thus reduced to matriarchal forms of the family--that is, to forms in which the woman is the permanent recognised centre--is there any reason to suppose that the stronger peoples, like the aryans and the semites, ever passed through a stage of culture in which female, not male, kinship was chiefly recognised, probably as a result of polyandry, of many husbands to one wife? on this third question, it will be necessary to produce much evidence of very different sorts: evidence which, at best, can perhaps only warrant an inference, or presumption, in favour of one or the other opinion. for the moment, the impartial examination of testimony is more important and practicable than the establishment of any theory. ( .) did man _originally_ live in the patriarchal family, the male being master of his female mate or mates, and of his children? on this first point sir henry maine, in his new volume, { a} may be said to come as near proving his case as the nature and matter of the question will permit. bachofen, m'lennan, and morgan, all started from a hypothetical state of more or less modified sexual promiscuity. bachofen's evidence (which may be referred to later) was based on a great mass of legends, myths, and travellers' tales, chiefly about early aryan practices. he discovered hetarismus, as he called it, or promiscuity, among lydians, etruscans, persians, thracians, cyrenian nomads, egyptians, scythians, troglodytes, nasamones, and so forth. mr. m'lennan's view is, perhaps, less absolutely stated than sir henry maine supposes. m'lennan says { b} 'that there has been a stage in the development of the human races, when there was no such appropriation of women to particular men; when, in short, marriage, _as it exists among civilised nations_, was not practised. marriage, _in this sense_, was yet undreamt of.' mr. m'lennan adds (pp. , ), 'as among other gregarious animals, the unions of the sexes were probably, in the earliest times, loose, transitory, and, _in some degree_, promiscuous.' sir henry maine opposes to mr. m'lennan's theory the statement of mr. darwin: 'from all we know of the passions of all male quadrupeds, promiscuous intercourse in a state of nature is highly improbable.' { } on this first question, let us grant to sir henry maine, to mr. darwin, and to common sense that if the very earliest men were extremely animal in character, their unions while they lasted were probably monogamous or polygamous. the sexual jealousy of the male would secure that result, as it does among many other animals. let the first point, then, be scored to sir henry maine: let it be granted that if man was created perfect, he lived in the monogamous family before the fall: and that, if he was evolved as an animal, the unchecked animal instincts would make for monogamy or patriarchal polygamy in the strictly primitive family. ( .) did circumstances and customs ever or anywhere compel or induce man (whatever his original condition) to resort to practices which made paternity uncertain, and so caused the absence of the patriarchal family, kinship being reckoned through women? if this question be answered in the affirmative, and if the sphere of action of the various causes be made wide enough, it will not matter much to mr. m'lennan's theory whether the strictly primitive family was patriarchal or not. if there occurred a fall from the primitive family, and if that fall was extremely general, affecting even the aryan race, mr. m'lennan's adherents will be amply satisfied. their object is to show that the family, even in the aryan race, was developed through a stage of loose savage connections. if that can be shown, they do not care much about primitive man properly so called. sir henry maine admits, as a matter of fact, that among certain races, in certain districts, circumstances have overridden the sexual jealousy which secures the recognition of male parentage. where women have been few, and where poverty has been great, jealousy has been suppressed, even in the venice of the eighteenth century. sir h. maine says, 'the usage' (that of polyandry--many husbands to a single wife) 'seems to me one which circumstances overpowering morality and decency might at any time call into existence. it is known to have arisen in the native indian army.' the question now is, what are the circumstances that overpower morality and decency, and so produce polyandry, with its necessary consequences, when it is a recognised institution--the absence of the patriarchal family, and the recognition of kinship through women? any circumstances which cause great scarcity of women will conduce to those results. mr. m'lennan's opinion was, that the chief cause of scarcity of women has been the custom of female infanticide--of killing little girls as bouches inutiles. sir henry maine admits that 'the cause assigned by m'lennan is a vera causa--it is capable of producing the effects.' { } mr. m'lennan collected a very large mass of testimony to prove the wide existence of this cause of paucity of women. till that evidence is published, i can only say that it was sufficient, in mr. m'lennan's opinion, to demonstrate the wide prevalence of the factor which is the mainspring of his whole system. { a} how frightfully female infanticide has prevailed in india, everyone may read in the official reports of col. m'pherson, and other english authorities. mr. fison's 'kamilaroi and kurnai' contains some notable, though not to my mind convincing, arguments on the other side. sir henry maine adduces another cause of paucity of women: the wanderings of our race, and expeditions across sea. { b} this cause would not, however, be important enough to alter forms of kinship, where the invaders (like the early english in britain) found a population which they could conquer and whose women they could appropriate. apart from any probable inferences that may be drawn from the presumed practice of female infanticide, actual ascertained facts prove that many races do not now live, or that recently they did not live, in the patriarchal or modern family. they live, or did live, in polyandrous associations. the thibetans, the nairs, the early inhabitants of britain (according to caesar), and many other races, { } as well as the inhabitants of the marquesas islands, and the iroquois (according to lafitau), practise, or have practised, polyandry. we now approach the third and really important problem--( .) is there any reason to suppose that the stronger peoples, like the aryans and the semites, ever passed through a stage of culture in which female, not male, kinship was chiefly recognised, probably as a result of polyandry? now the nature of the evidence which affords a presumption that aryans have all passed through australian institutions such as polyandry, is of extremely varied character. much of it may undoubtedly be explained away. but such strength as the evidence has (which we do not wish to exaggerate) is derived from its convergence to one point--namely, the anterior existence of polyandry and the matriarchal family among aryans before and after the dawn of real history. for the sake of distinctness we may here number the heads of the evidence bearing on this question. we have-- . the evidence of inference from the form of capture in bridal ceremonies. . the evidence from exogamy: the law which forbids marriage between persons of the same family name. . the evidence from totemism--that is, the derivation of the family name and crest or badge, from some natural object, plant or animal. { } persons bearing the name may not intermarry, nor, as a rule, may they eat the object from which they derive their family name and from which they claim to be descended. . the evidence from the gens of rome, or [greek] of ancient greece, in connection with totemism. . the evidence from myth and legend. . the evidence from direct historical statements as to the prevalence of the matriarchal family, and inheritance through the maternal line. to take these various testimonies in their order, let us begin with ( .) the form of capture in bridal ceremonies. that this form survived in sparta, crete, in hindoo law, in the traditions of ireland, in the popular rustic customs of wales, is not denied. if we hold, with mr. m'lennan, that scarcity of women (produced by female infanticide or otherwise) is the cause of the habit of capturing wives, we may see, in survivals of this ceremony of capture among aryans, a proof of early scarcity of women, and of probable polyandry. but an opponent may argue, like mr. j. a. farrer in 'primitive manners,' that the ceremony of capture is mainly a concession to maiden modesty among early races. here one may observe that the girls of savage tribes are notoriously profligate and immodest about illicit connections. only honourable marriage brings a blush to the cheek of these young persons. this is odd, but, in the present state of the question, we cannot lean on the evidence of the ceremony of capture. we cannot demonstrate that it is derived from a time when paucity of women made capture of brides necessary. thus 'honours are easy' in this first deal. ( .) the next indication is very curious, and requires much more prolonged discussion. the custom of exogamy was first noted and named by mr. m'lennan. exogamy is the prohibition of marriage within the supposed blood-kinship, as denoted by the family name. such marriage, among many backward races, is reckoned incestuous, and is punishable by death. certain peculiarities in connection with the family name have to be noted later. now, sir henry maine admits that exogamy, as thus defined, exists among the hindoos. 'a hindoo may not marry a woman belonging to the same gotra, all members of the gotra being theoretically supposed to have descended from the same ancestor.' the same rule prevails in china. 'there are in china large bodies of related clansmen, each generally bearing the same clan-name. they are exogamous; no man will marry a woman having the same clan-name with himself.' it is admitted by sir henry maine that this wide prohibition of marriage was the early aryan rule, while advancing civilisation has gradually permitted marriage within limits once forbidden. the greek church now (according to mr. m'lennan), and the catholic church in the past, forbade intermarriages 'as far as relationship could be known.' the hindoo rule appears to go still farther, and to prohibit marriage as far as the common gotra name seems merely to indicate relationship. as to the ancient romans, plutarch says: formerly they did not marry women connected with them by blood, any more than they now marry aunts or sisters. it was long before they would even intermarry with cousins.' plutarch also remarks that, in times past, romans did not marry [greek], and if we may render this 'women of the same gens,' the exogamous prohibition in rome was as complete as among the hindoos. i do not quite gather from sir henry maine's account of the slavonic house communities (pp. , ) whether they dislike _all_ kindred marriages, or only marriage within the 'greater blood'--that is, within the kinship on the male side. he says: 'the south slavonians bring their wives into the group, in which they are socially organised, from a considerable distance outside. . . . every marriage which requires an ecclesiastical dispensation is regarded as disreputable.' on the whole, wide prohibitions of marriage are archaic: the widest are savage; the narrowest are modern and civilised. thus the hindoo prohibition is old, barbarous, and wide. 'the barbarous aryan,' says sir henry maine, 'is generally exogamous. he has a most extensive table of prohibited degrees.' thus exogamy seems to be a survival of barbarism. the question for us is, can we call exogamy a survival from a period when (owing to scarcity of women and polyandry) clear ideas of kinship were impossible? if this can be proved, exogamous aryans either passed through polyandrous institutions, or borrowed a savage custom derived from a period when ideas of kinship were obscure. if we only knew the origin of the prohibition to marry within the family name all would be plain sailing. at present several theories of the origin of exogamy are before the world. mr. morgan, the author of 'ancient society,' inclines to trace the prohibition to a great early physiological discovery, acted on by primitive men by virtue of a contrat social. early man discovered that children of unsound constitutions were born of nearly related parents. mr. morgan says: 'primitive men very early discovered the evils of close interbreeding.' elsewhere mr. morgan writes: 'intermarriage in the gens was prohibited, to secure the benefits of marrying out with unrelated persons.' this arrangement was 'a product of high intelligence,' and mr. morgan calls it a 'reform.' let us examine this very curious theory. first: mr. morgan supposes early man to have made a discovery (the evils of the marriage of near kin) which evades modern physiological science. modern science has not determined that the marriages of kinsfolk are pernicious. is it credible that savages should discover a fact which puzzles science? it may be replied that modern care, nursing, and medical art save children of near marriages from results which were pernicious to the children of early man. secondly: mr. morgan supposes that barbarous man (so notoriously reckless of the morrow as he is), not only made the discovery of the evils of interbreeding, but acted on it with promptitude and self-denial. thirdly: mr. morgan seems to require, for the enforcement of the exogamous law, a contrat social. the larger communities meet, and divide themselves into smaller groups, within which wedlock is forbidden. this 'social pact' is like a return to the ideas of rousseau. fourthly: the hypothesis credits early men with knowledge and discrimination of near degrees of kin, which they might well possess if they lived in patriarchal families. but it represents that they did not act on their knowledge. instead of prohibiting marriage between parents and children, cousins, nephews and aunts, uncles and nieces, they prohibited marriage within the limit of the name of the kin. this is still the hindoo rule, and, if the romans really might not at one time marry within the gens, it was the roman rule. now observe, this rule fails to effect the very purpose for which ex hypothesi it was instituted. where the family name goes by the male side, marriages between cousins are permitted, as in india and china. these are the very marriages which some theorists now denounce as pernicious. but, if the family name goes by the female side, marriages between half-brothers and half-sisters are permitted, as in ancient athens and among the hebrews of abraham's time. once more, the exogamous prohibition excludes, in china, america, africa, australia, persons who are in no way akin (according to our ideas) from intermarriage. thus mr. doolittle writes: { } 'males and females of the same surname will never intermarry in china. cousins who have not the same ancestral surname may intermarry. though the ancestors of persons of the same surname have not known each other for thousands of years, they may not intermarry.' the hindoo gotra rule produces the same effects. for all these reasons, and because of the improbability of the physiological discovery, and of the moral 'reform' which enforced it; and again, because the law is not of the sort which people acquainted with near degrees of kinship would make; and once more, because the law fails to effect its presumed purpose, while it does attain ends at which it does not aim--we cannot accept mr. morgan's suggestion as to the origin of exogamy. mr. m'lennan did not live to publish a subtle theory of the origin of exogamy, which he had elaborated. in 'studies in ancient history,' he hazarded a conjecture based on female infanticide:-- 'we believe the restrictions on marriage to be connected with the practice in early times of female infanticide, which, rendering women scarce, led at once to polyandry within the tribe, and the capturing of women from without. . . . hence the cruel custom which, leaving the primitive human hordes with very few young women of their own, occasionally with none, and in any case seriously disturbing the balance of the sexes within the hordes, forces them to prey upon one another for wives. usage, induced by necessity, would in time establish a prejudice among the tribes observing it, a prejudice strong as a principle of religion--as every prejudice relating to marriage is apt to be--against marrying women of their own stock.' mr. m'lennan describes his own hypothesis as 'a suggestion thrown out at what it was worth.' { } in his later years, as we have said, he developed a very subtle and ingenious theory of the origin of exogamy, still connecting it with scarcity of women, but making use of various supposed stages and processes in the development of the law. that speculation remains unpublished. to myself, the suggestion given in 'studies in ancient history' seems inadequate. i find it difficult to conceive that the frequent habit of stealing women should indispose men to marry the native women they had at hand. that this indisposition should grow into a positive law, and the infringement of the law be regarded as a capital offence, seems still more inconceivable. my own impression is, that exogamy may be connected with some early superstition or idea of which we have lost the touch, and which we can no longer explain. thus far, the consideration of exogamy has thrown no clear light on the main question--the question whether the customs of civilised races contain relics of female kinship. on sir henry maine's theory of exogamy, that aryan custom is unconnected with female kinship, polyandry, and scarcity of women. on mr. m'lennan's theory, exogamy is the result of scarcity of women, and implies polyandry and female kinship. but neither theory has seemed satisfactory. yet we need not despair of extracting some evidence from exogamy, and that evidence, on the whole, is in favour of mr. m'lennan's general hypothesis. ( .) the exogamous prohibition must have first come into force _when kinship was only reckoned on one side of the family_. this is obvious, whether we suppose it to have arisen in a society which reckoned by male or by female kinship. in the former case, the law only prohibits marriage with persons of the father's, in the second case with persons of the mother's, family name, and these only it recognises as kindred. ( .) our second point is much more important. the exogamous prohibition must first have come into force _when kinship was so little understood that it could best be denoted by the family name_. this would be self-evident, if we could suppose the prohibition to be intended to prevent marriages of relations. had the authors of the prohibition been acquainted with the nature of near kinships, they would simply (as we do) have forbidden marriage between persons in those degrees. the very nature of the prohibition, on the other hand, shows that kinship was understood in a manner all unlike our modern system. the limit of kindred was everywhere the family name: a limit which excludes many real kinsfolk and includes many who are not kinsfolk at all. in australia especially, and in america, india, and africa, to a slighter extent, that definition of kindred by the family name actually includes alligators, smoke, paddy melons, rain, crayfish, sardines, and what you please. { } will anyone assert, then, that people among whom the exogamous prohibition arose were organised on the system of the patriarchal family, which permits the nature of kinship to be readily understood at a glance? is it not plain that the exogamous prohibition (confessedly aryan) must have arisen in a stage of culture when ideas of kindred were confused, included kinship with animals and plants, and were to us almost, if not quite, unintelligible? it is even possible, as mr. m'lennan says, { } 'that the prejudice against marrying women of the same group may have been established _before the facts of blood relationship had made any deep impression on the human mind_.' how the exogamous prohibition tends to confirm this view will next be set forth in our consideration of _totemism_. the evidence from totemism.--totemism is the name for the custom by which a stock (scattered through many local tribes) claims descent from and kindred with some plant, animal, or other natural object. this object, of which the effigy is sometimes worn as a badge or crest, members of the stock refuse to eat. as a general rule, marriage is prohibited between members of the stock--between all, that is, who claim descent from the same object and wear the same badge. the exogamous limit, therefore, is denoted by the stock-name and crest, and kinship is kinship in the wolf, bear, potato, or whatever other object is recognised as the original ancestor. finally, as a general rule, the stock-name is derived through the mother, and where it is derived through the father there are proofs that the custom is comparatively modern. it will be acknowledged that this sort of kindred, which is traced to a beast, bird, or tree, which is recognised in every person bearing the same stock-name, which is counted through females, and which governs marriage customs, is not the sort of kindred which would naturally arise among people regulated on the patriarchal or monandrous family system. totemism, however, is a widespread institution prevailing all over the north of the american continent, also in peru (according to garcilasso de la vega); in guiana (the negroes have brought it from the african gold coast, where it is in full force, as it also is among the bechuanas); in india among hos, garos, kassos, and oraons; in the south sea islands, where it has left strong traces in mangaia; in siberia, and especially in the great island continent of australia. the semitic evidences for totemism (animal-worship, exogamy, descent claimed through females) are given by professor robertson smith, in the 'journal of philology,' ix. , 'animal worship and animal tribes among the arabs, and in the old testament.' many other examples of totemism might be adduced (especially from egypt), but we must restrict ourselves to the following questions:-- ( .) what light is thrown on the original form of the family by totemism? ( .) where we find survivals of totemism among civilised races, may we conclude that these races (through scarcity of women) had once been organised on other than the patriarchal model? as to the first question, we must remember that the origin and determining causes of totemism are still unknown. mr. m'lennan's theory of the origin of totemism has never been published. it may be said without indiscretion that mr. m'lennan thought totemism arose at a period when ideas of kinship scarcely existed at all. 'men only thought of marking one off from another,' as garcilasso de la vega says: the totem was but a badge worn by all the persons who found themselves existing in close relations; perhaps in the same cave or set of caves. people united by contiguity, and by the blind sentiment of kinship not yet brought into explicit consciousness, might mark themselves by a badge, and might thence derive a name, and, later, might invent a myth of their descent from the object which the badge represented. i do not know whether it has been observed that the totems are, as a rule, objects which may be easily drawn or tattooed, and still more easily indicated in gesture-language. some interesting facts will be found in the 'first annual report of the bureau of ethnology,' p. (washington, ). here we read how the 'crow' tribe is indicated in sign-language by 'the hands held out on each side, striking the air in the manner of flying.' the bunaks (another bird tribe) are indicated by an imitation of the cry of the bird. in mentioning the snakes, the hand imitates the crawling motion of the serpent, and the fingers pointed up behind the ear denote the wolves. plainly names of the totem sort are well suited to the convenience of savages, who converse much in gesture-language. above all, the very nature of totemism shows that it took its present shape at a time when men, animals, and plants were conceived of as physically akin; when names were handed on through the female line; when exogamy was the rule of marriage, and when the family theoretically included all persons bearing the same family name, that is, all who claimed kindred with the same plant, animal, or object, whether the persons are really akin or not. these ideas and customs are not the ideas natural to men organised in the patriarchal family. the second question now arises: can we infer from survivals of totemism among aryans that these aryans had once been organised on the full totemistic principle, probably with polyandry, and certainly with female descent? where totemism now exists in full force, there we find exogamy and derivation of the family name through women, the latter custom indicating uncertainty of male parentage in the past. are we to believe that the same institutions have existed wherever we find survivals of totemism? if this be granted, and if the supposed survivals of totemism among aryans be accepted as genuine, then the aryans have distinctly come through a period of kinship reckoned through women, with all that such an institution implies. for indications that the aryans of greece and india have passed through the stage of totemism, the reader may be referred to mr. m'lennan's 'worship of plants and animals' ('fortnightly review,' , ). the evidence there adduced is not all of the same value, and the papers are only a hasty rough sketch based on the first testimonies that came to hand. probably the most important 'survival' of totemism in greek legend is the body of stories about the amours of zeus in animal form. various noble houses traced their origin to zeus or apollo, who, as a bull, tortoise, serpent, swan, or ant, had seduced the mother of the race. the mother of the arcadians became a she-bear, like the mother of the bear stock of the iroquois. as we know plenty of races all over the world who trace their descent from serpents, tortoises, swans, and so forth, it is a fair hypothesis that the ancestors of the greeks once believed in the same fables. in later times the swan, serpent, ant, or tortoise was explained as an avatar of zeus. the process by which an anthropomorphic god or hero succeeds to the exploits of animals, of theriomorphic gods and heroes, is the most common in mythology, and is illustrated by actual practice in modern india. when the brahmins convert a pig-worshipping tribe of aboriginals, they tell their proselytes that the pig was an avatar of vishnu. the same process is found active where the japanese have influenced the savage ainos, and persuaded them that their bear- or dog-father was a manifestation of a deity. we know from plutarch ('theseus') that, in addition to families claiming descent from divine animals, one athenian [greek], the ioxidae, revered an ancestral plant, the asparagus. a vaguer indication of totemism may perhaps be detected in the ancient theriomorphic statues of greek gods, as the ram-zeus and the horse-headed demeter, and in the various animals and plants which were sacred to each god and represented as his companions. the hints of totemism among the ancient irish are interesting. one hero, conaire, was the son of a bird, and before his birth his father (the bird) told the woman (his mother) that the child must never eat the flesh of fowls. 'thy son shall be named conaire, and that son shall not kill birds.' { a} the hero cuchullain, being named after the dog, might not eat the flesh of the dog, and came by his ruin after transgressing this totemistic taboo. races named after animals were common in ancient ireland. the red-deer and the wolves were tribes dwelling near ossory, and professor rhys, from the frequency of dog names, inclines to believe in a dog totem in erin. according to the ancient irish 'wonders of eri,' in the 'book of glendaloch,' 'the descendants of the wolf are in ossory,' and they could still transform themselves into wolves. { b} as to our anglo-saxon ancestors, there is little evidence beyond the fact that the patronymic names of many of the early settlements of billings, arlings, and the rest, are undeniably derived from animals and plants. the manner in which those names are scattered locally is precisely like what results in america, africa, and australia from the totemistic organisation. { c} in italy the ancient custom by which animals were the leaders of the ver sacrum or armed migration is well known. the piceni had for their familiar animal or totem (if we may call it so) a woodpecker; the hirpini were like the 'descendants of the wolf' in ossory, and practised a wolf-dance in which they imitated the actions of the animal. such is a summary of the evidence which shows that aryans had once been totemists, therefore savages, and therefore, again, had probably been in a stage when women were scarce and each woman had many husbands. evidence from the gens or [greek].--there is no more puzzling topic in the history of the ancient world than the origin and nature of the community called by the romans the gens, and by the greeks the [greek]. to the present writer it seems that no existing community of men, neither totem kin, nor clan, nor house community, nor gotra, precisely answers to the gens or the [greek]. our information about these forms of society is slight and confused. the most essential thing to notice for the moment is the fact that both in greece and rome the [greek] and gens were extremely ancient, so ancient that the [greek] was decaying in greece when history begins, while in rome we can distinctly see the rapid decadence and dissolution of the gens. in the laws of the twelve tables, the gens is a powerful and respected corporation. in the time of cicero the nature of the gens is a matter but dimly understood. tacitus begins to be confused about the gentile nomenclature. in the empire gentile law fades away. in greece, especially at athens, the early political reforms transferred power from the [greek] to a purely local organisation, the deme. the greek of historical times did not announce his [greek] in his name (as the romans always did), but gave his own name, that of his father, and that of his deme. thus we may infer that in greek and roman society the [greek] and gens were dying, not growing, organisations. in very early times it is probable that foreign gentes were adopted en bloc into the roman commonwealth. very probably, too, a great family, on entering the roman bond, may have assumed, by a fiction, the character and name of a gens. but that roman society in historical times, or that greek society, could evolve a new gens or [greek] in a normal natural way, seems excessively improbable. keeping in mind the antique and 'obsolescent' character of the gens and [greek], let us examine the theories of the origin of these associations. the romans themselves knew very little about the matter. cicero quotes the dictum of scaevola the pontifex, according to which the gens consisted of _all persons of the same gentile name_ who were not in any way disqualified. { } thus, in america, or australia, or africa, all persons bearing the same totem name belong to that totem kin. festus defines members of a gens as persons of the same stock and same family name. varro says (in illustration of the relationships of words and cases) 'ab aemilio homines orti aemilii sunt gentiles.' the two former definitions answer to the conception of a totem kin, which is united by its family name and belief in identity of origin. varro adds the element, in the roman gens, of common descent from one male ancestor. such was the conception of the gens in historical times. it was in its way an association of kinsfolk, real or supposed. according to the laws of the twelve tables the gentiles inherited the property of an intestate man without agnates, and had the custody of lunatics in the same circumstances. the gens had its own sacellum or chapel, and its own sacra or religious rites. the whole gens occasionally went into mourning when one of its members was unfortunate. it would be interesting if it could be shown that the sacra were usually examples of ancestor-worship, but the faint indications on the subject scarcely permit us to assert this. on the whole, sir henry maine strongly clings to the belief that the gens commonly had 'a real core of agnatic consanguinity from the very first.' but he justly recognises the principle of imitation, which induces men to copy any fashionable institution. whatever the real origin of the gens, many gentes were probably copies based on the fiction of common ancestry. on sir henry maine's system, then, the gens rather proves the constant existence of recognised male descents among the peoples where it exists. the opposite theory of the gens is that to which mr. m'lennan inclined. 'the composition and organisation of greek and roman tribes and commonwealths cannot well be explained except on the hypothesis that they resulted from the joint operation, in early times, of exogamy, and the system of kinship through females only.' { } 'the gens', he adds, 'was composed of all the persons in the tribe bearing the same name and accounted of the same stock. were the gentes really of different stocks, as their names would imply and as the people believed? if so, how came clans of different stocks to be united in the same tribe? . . . how came a variety of such groups, of different stocks, to coalesce in a local tribe?' these questions, mr. m'lennan thought, could not be answered on the patriarchal hypothesis. his own theory, or rather his theory as understood by the present writer, may be stated thus. in the earliest times there were homogeneous groups, which became, totem kin. let us say that, in a certain district, there were groups called woodpeckers, wolves, bears, suns, swine, each with its own little territory. these groups were exogamous, and derived the name through the mother. thus, in course of time, when sun men married a wolf girl, and her children were wolves, there would be wolves in the territory of the suns, and thus each stock would be scattered through all the localities, just as we see in australia and america. let us suppose that (as certainly is occurring in australia and america) paternal descent comes to be recognised in custom. this change will not surprise sir henry maine, who admits that a system of male may alter, under stress of circumstances, to a system of female descents. in course of time, and as knowledge and common sense advance, the old superstition of descent from a woodpecker, a bear, a wolf, the sun, or what not, becomes untenable. a human name is assumed by the group which had called itself the woodpeckers or the wolves, or perhaps by a local tribe in which several of these stocks are included. then a fictitious human ancestor is adopted, and perhaps even adored. thus the wolves might call themselves claudii, from their chief's name, and, giving up belief in descent from a wolf, might look back to a fancied ancestor named claudius. the result of these changes will be that an exogamous totem kin, with female descent, has become a gens, with male kinship, and only the faintest trace of exogamy. an example of somewhat similar processes must have occurred in the highland clans after the introduction of christianity, when the chief's christian name became the patronymic of the people who claimed kinship with him and owned his sway. are there any traces at all of totemism in what we know of the roman gentes? certainly the traces are very slight; perhaps they are only visible to the eye of the intrepid anthropologist. i give them for what they are worth, merely observing that they do tally, as far as they go, with the totemistic theory. the reader interested in the subject may consult the learned streinnius's 'de gentibus romanis,' p. (aldus, venice, ). among well-known savage totems none is more familiar than the sun. men claim descent from the sun, call themselves by his name, and wear his effigy as a badge. { } were there suns in rome? the aurelian gens is thus described on the authority of festus pompeius:--'the aurelii were of sabine descent. the aurelii were so named from the sun (aurum, urere, the burning thing), because a place was set apart for them in which to pay adoration to the sun.' here, at least, is an odd coincidence. among other gentile names, the fabii, cornelii, papirii, pinarii, cassii, are possibly connected with plants; while wild etymology may associate porcii, aquilii, and valerii with swine and eagles. pliny ('h. n.' xviii. ) gives a fantastic explanation of the vegetable names of roman gentes. we must remember that vegetable names are very common in american, indian, african, and australian totem kin. of sun names the natchez and the incas of peru are familiar examples. turning from rome to greece, we find the [greek] less regarded and more decadent than the gens. yet, according to grote (iii. ) the [greek] had--(l) sacra, 'in honour of the same god, supposed to be the primitive ancestor.' ( ) a common burial-place. ( ) certain rights of succession to property. ( ) obligations of mutual help and defence. ( ) mutual rights and obligations to intermarry in certain cases. ( ) occasionally possession of common property. traces of the totem among the greek [greek] are, naturally, few. almost all the known [greek] bore patronymics derived from personal names. but it is not without significance that the attic demes often adopted the names of obsolescent [greek], and that those names were, as mr. grote says, often 'derived from the plants and shrubs which grew in their neighbourhood.' we have already seen that at least one attic [greek], the ioxidae, revered the plant from which they derived their lineage. one thing is certain, the totem names, and a common explanation of the totem names in australia, correspond with the names and mr. grote's explanation of the names of the attic demes. 'one origin of family names,' says sir george grey (ii. ), 'frequently ascribed by the natives, is that they were derived from some vegetable or animal being common in the district which the family inhabited.' some writers attempt to show that the attic [greek] was once exogamous and counted kin on the mother's side, by quoting the custom which permitted a man to marry his half-sister, the child of his father but not of his mother. they infer that this permission is a survival from the time when a man's _father's_ children were not reckoned as his kindred, and when kinship was counted through mothers. sir henry maine (p. ) prefers m. fustel de coulanges' theory, that the marriage of half-brothers and sisters on the father's side was intended to save the portion of the girl to the family estate. proof of this may be adduced from examination of all the recorded cases of such marriages in athens. but the reason thus suggested would have equally justified marriage between brothers and sisters on both sides, and this was reckoned incest. a well-known line in aristophanes shows how intense was athenian feeling about the impiety of relations with a sister uterine. on the whole, the evidence which we have adduced tends to establish some links between the ancient [greek] and gens, and the totem kindreds of savages. the indications are not strong, but they all point in one direction. considering the high civilisation of rome and greece at the very dawn of history--considering the strong natural bent of these peoples toward refinement--it is almost remarkable that even the slight testimonies we have been considering should have survived. ( .) on the evidence from myth and legend we propose to lay little stress. but, as legends were not invented by anthropologists to prove a point, it is odd that the traditions of athens, as preserved by varro, speak of a time when names were derived from the mother, and when promiscuity prevailed. marriage itself was instituted by cecrops, the serpent, just as the lizard, in australia, is credited with this useful invention. { a} similar legends among non-aryan races, chinese and egyptian, are very common. ( .) there remains the evidence of actual fact and custom among aryan peoples. the lycians, according to herodotus, 'have this peculiar custom, _wherein they resemble no other men_, they derive their names from their mothers, and not from their fathers, and through mothers reckon their kin.' status also was derived through the mothers. { b} the old writer's opinion that the custom (so common in australia, america, and africa) was unique, is itself a proof of his good faith. bachofen (p. ) remarks that several lycian inscriptions give the names of mothers only. polybius attributes (assigning a fantastic reason) the same custom of counting kin through mothers to the locrians. { c} the british and irish custom of deriving descents through women is well known, { d} and a story is told to account for the practice. the pedigrees of the british kings show that most did not succeed to their fathers, and the various records of early celtic morals go to prove that no other system of kinship than the maternal would have possessed any value, so uncertain was fatherhood. these are but hints of the prevalence of institutions which survived among teutonic races in the importance attached to the relationship of a man's sister's son. though no longer his legal heir, the sister's son was almost closer than any other kinsman. we have now summarised and indicated the nature of the evidence which, on the whole, inclines us to the belief of mr. m'lennan rather than of sir henry maine. the point to which all the testimony adduced converges, the explanation which most readily solves all the difficulties, is the explanation of mr. m'lennan. the aryan races have very generally passed through the stage of scarcity of women, polyandry, absence of recognised male kinship, and recognition of kinship through women. what sir henry maine admits as the exception, we are inclined to regard as having, in a very remote past, been the rule. no one kind of evidence--neither traces of marriage by capture, of exogamy, of totemism, of tradition, of noted fact among lycians and picts and irish--would alone suffice to guide our opinion in this direction. but the cumulative force of the testimony strikes us as not inconsiderable, and it must be remembered that the testimony has not yet been assiduously collected. let us end by showing how this discussion illustrates the method of folklore. we have found anomalies among aryans. we have seen the gens an odd, decaying institution. we have seen greek families claim descent from various animals, said to be zeus in disguise. we have found them tracing kinship and deriving names from the mother. we have found stocks with animal and vegetable names. we have found half-brothers and sisters marrying. we have noted prohibition to marry anyone of the same family name. all these institutions are odd, anomalous, decaying things among aryans, and the more civilised the aryans the more they decay. all of them are living, active things among savages, and, far from being anomalous, are in precise harmony with savage notions of the world. surely, then, where they seem decaying and anomalous, as among aryans, these customs and laws are mouldering relics of ideas and practices natural and inevitable among savages. the art of savages. { } 'avoid coleridge, he is _useless_,' says mr. ruskin. why should the poetry of coleridge be useful? the question may interest the critic, but we are only concerned with mr. ruskin here, for one reason. his disparagement of coleridge as 'useless' is a survival of the belief that art should be 'useful.' this is the savage's view of art. he imitates nature, in dance, song, or in plastic art, for a definite practical purpose. his dances are magical dances, his images are made for a magical purpose, his songs are incantations. thus the theory that art is a disinterested expression of the imitative faculty is scarcely warranted by the little we know of art's beginnings. we shall adopt, provisionally, the hypothesis that the earliest art with which we are acquainted is that of savages contemporary or extinct. some philosophers may tell us that all known savages are only degraded descendants of early civilised men who have, unluckily and inexplicably, left no relics of their civilisation. but we shall argue on the opposite theory, that the art of australians, for example, is really earlier in kind, more backward, nearer the rude beginnings of things, than the art of people who have attained to some skill in pottery, like the new caledonians. these, again, are much more backward, in a state really much earlier, than the old races of mexico and peru; while they, in turn, show but a few traces of advance towards the art of egypt; and the art of egypt, at least after the times of the ancient empire, is scarcely advancing in the direction of the flawless art of greece. we shall be able to show how savage art, as of the australians, develops into barbarous art, as of the new zealanders; while the arts of strange civilisations, like those of peru and mexico, advance one step further; and how, again, in the early art of greece, in the greek art of ages prior to pericles, there are remains of barbaric forms which are gradually softened into beauty. but there are necessarily breaks and solutions of continuity in the path of progress. one of the oldest problems has already risen before us in connection with the question stated--is art the gratification of the imitative faculty? now, among the lowest, the most untutored, the worst equipped savages of contemporary races, art is rather decorative on the whole than imitative. the patterns on australian shields and clubs, the scars which they raise on their own flesh by way of tattooing, are very rarely imitations of any objects in nature. the australians, like the red indians, like many african and some aboriginal indian races, peruvians, and others, distinguish their families by the names of various plants and animals, from which each family boasts its descent. thus you have a family called kangaroos, descended, as they fancy, from the kangaroo; another from the cockatoo, another from the black snake, and so forth. now, in many quarters of the globe, this custom and this superstition, combined with the imitative faculty in man, has produced a form of art representing the objects from which the families claim descent. this art is a sort of rude heraldry--probably the origin of heraldry. thus, if a red indian (say a delaware) is of the family of the turtle, he blazons a turtle on his shield or coat, probably tattoos or paints his breast with a figure of a turtle, and always has a turtle, _reversed_, designed on the pillar above his grave when he dies, just as, in our mediaeval chronicles, the leopards of an english king are reversed on his scutcheon opposite the record of his death. but the australians, to the best of my knowledge, though they are much governed by belief in descent from animals, do not usually blazon their crest on their flesh, nor on the trees near the place where the dead are buried. they have not arrived at this pitch of imitative art, though they have invented or inherited a kind of runes which they notch on sticks, and in which they convey to each other secret messages. the natives of the upper darling, however, do carve their family crests on their shields. in place of using imitative art, the murri are said, i am not quite sure with what truth, to indicate the distinction of families by arrangements of patterns, lines and dots, tattooed on the breast and arms, and carved on the bark of trees near places of burial. in any case, the absence of the rude imitative art of heraldry among a race which possesses all the social conditions that produce this art is a fact worth noticing, and itself proves that the native art of one of the most backward races we know is not essentially imitative. [fig. . an australian shield: .jpg] anyone who will look through a collection of australian weapons and utensils will be brought to this conclusion. the shields and the clubs are elaborately worked, but almost always without any representation of plants, animals, or the human figure. as a rule the decorations take the simple shape of the 'herring-bone' pattern, or such other patterns as can be produced without the aid of spirals, or curves, or circles. there is a natural and necessary cause of this choice of decoration. the australians, working on hard wood, with tools made of flint, or broken glass, or sharp shell, cannot easily produce any curved lines. everyone who, when a boy, carved his name on the bark of a tree, remembers the difficulty he had with s and g, while he got on easily with letters like m and a, which consist of straight or inclined lines. the savage artist has the same difficulty with his rude tools in producing anything like satisfactory curves or spirals. we engrave above (fig. ) a shield on which an australian has succeeded, with obvious difficulty, in producing concentric ovals of irregular shape. it may be that the artist would have produced perfect circles if he could. his failure is exactly like that of a youthful carver of inscriptions coming to grief over his g's and s's. here, however (fig. ), we have three shields which, like the ancient celtic pipkin (the tallest of the three figures in fig. ), show the earliest known form of savage decorative art--the forms which survive under the names of 'chevron' and 'herring-bone.' these can be scratched on clay with the nails, or a sharp stick, and this primeval way of decorating pottery made without the wheel survives, with other relics of savage art, in the western isles of scotland. the australian had not even learned to make rude clay pipkins, but he decorated his shields as the old celts and modern old scotch women decorated their clay pots, with the herring-bone arrangement of incised lines. in the matter of colour the australians prefer white clay and red ochre, which they rub into the chinks in the woodwork of their shields. when they are determined on an ambush, they paint themselves all over with white, justly conceiving that their sudden apparition in this guise will strike terror into the boldest hearts. but arrangements in black and white of this sort scarcely deserve the name of even rudimentary art. [fig. . shields: .jpg] [fig. . savage ornamentation: .jpg] the australians sometimes introduce crude decorative attempts at designing the human figure, as in the pointed shield opposite (fig. , a), which, with the other australian designs, are from mr. brough smyth's 'aborigines of victoria.' but these ambitious efforts usually end in failure. though the australians chiefly confine themselves to decorative art, there are numbers of wall-paintings, so to speak, in the caves of the country which prove that they, like the bushmen, could design the human figure in action when they pleased. their usual preference for the employment of patterns appears to me to be the result of the nature of their materials. in modern art our mechanical advantages and facilities are so great that we are always carrying the method and manner of one art over the frontier of another. our poetry aims at producing the effects of music; our prose at producing the effects of poetry. our sculpture tries to vie with painting in the representation of action, or with lace- making in the production of reticulated surfaces, and so forth. but the savage, in his art, has sense enough to confine himself to the sort of work for which his materials are fitted. set him in the bush with no implements and materials but a bit of broken shell and a lump of hard wood, and he confines himself to decorative scratches. place the black in the large cave which pundjel, the australian zeus, inhabited when on earth (as zeus inhabited the cave in crete), and give the black plenty of red and white ochre and charcoal, and he will paint the human figure in action on the rocky walls. later, we will return to the cave-paintings of the australians and the bushmen in south africa. at present we must trace purely decorative art a little further. but we must remember that there was once a race apparently in much the same social condition as the australians, but far more advanced and ingenious in art. the earliest men of the european continent, about whom we know much, the men whose bones and whose weapons are found beneath the gravel-drift, the men who were contemporary with the rhinoceros, mammoth, and cave-bear, were not further advanced in material civilisation than the australians. they used weapons of bone, of unpolished stone, and probably of hard wood. but the remnants of their art, the scraps of mammoth or reindeer bone in our museums, prove that they had a most spirited style of sketching from the life. in a collection of drawings on bone (probably designed with a flint or a shell), drawings by palaeolithic man, in the british museum, i have only observed one purely decorative attempt. even in this the decoration resembles an effort to use the outlines of foliage for ornamental purposes. in almost all the other cases the palaeolithic artist has not decorated his bits of bone in the usual savage manner, but has treated his bone as an artist treats his sketch-book, and has scratched outlines of beasts and fishes with his sharp shell as an artist uses his point. these ancient bones, in short, are the sketch-books of european savages, whose untaught skill was far greater than that of the australians, or even of the eskimo. when brought into contact with europeans, the australian and eskimo very quickly, even without regular teaching, learn to draw with some spirit and skill. in the australian stele, or grave-pillar, which we have engraved (fig. ), the shapeless figures below the men and animals are the dead, and the boilyas or ghosts. observe the patterns in the interstices. the artist had lived with europeans. in their original conditions, however, the australians have not attained to such free, artist-like, and unhampered use of their rude materials as the mysterious european artists who drew the mammoth that walked abroad amongst them. [fig. . an australian stele: .jpg] we have engraved one solitary australian attempt at drawing curved lines. the new zealanders, a race far more highly endowed, and, when europeans arrived amongst them, already far more civilised than the australians, had, like the australians, no metal implements. but their stone weapons were harder and keener, and with these they engraved the various spirals and coils on hard wood, of which we give examples here. it is sometimes said that new zealand culture and art have filtered from some asiatic source, and that in the coils and spirals designed, as in our engravings, on the face of the maori chief, or on his wooden furniture, there may be found debased asiatic influences. { } this is one of the questions which we can hardly deal with here. perhaps its solution requires more of knowledge, anthropological and linguistic, than is at present within the reach of any student. assuredly the races of the earth have wandered far, and have been wonderfully intermixed, and have left the traces of their passage here and there on sculptured stones, and in the keeping of the ghosts that haunt ancient grave-steads. but when two pieces of artistic work, one civilised, one savage, resemble each other, it is always dangerous to suppose that the resemblance bears witness to relationship or contact between the races, or to influences imported by one from the other. new zealand work may be asiatic in origin, and debased by the effect of centuries of lower civilisation and ruder implements. or asiatic ornament may be a form of art improved out of ruder forms, like those to which the new zealanders have already attained. one is sometimes almost tempted to regard the favourite maori spiral as an imitation of the form, not unlike that of a bishop's crozier at the top, taken by the great native ferns. examples of resemblance, to be accounted for by the development of a crude early idea, may be traced most easily in the early pottery of greece. no one says that the greeks borrowed from the civilised people of america. only a few enthusiasts say that the civilised peoples of america, especially the peruvians, are aryan by race. yet the remains of peruvian palaces are often by no means dissimilar in style from the 'pelasgic' and 'cyclopean' buildings of gigantic stones which remain on such ancient hellenic sites as argos and mycenae. the probability is that men living in similar social conditions, and using similar implements, have unconsciously and unintentionally arrived at like results. [fig . a, a maori design; b, tattoo on a maori's face: .jpg] few people who are interested in the question can afford to visit peru and mycenae and study the architecture for themselves. but anyone who is interested in the strange identity of the human mind everywhere, and in the necessary forms of early art, can go to the british museum and examine the american and early greek pottery. compare the greek key pattern and the wave pattern on greek and mexican vases, and compare the bird-faces, or human faces very like those of birds, with the similar faces on the clay pots which dr. schliemann dug up at troy. the latter are engraved in his book on troy. compare the so-called 'cuttle-fish' from a peruvian jar with the same figure on the early greek vases, most of which are to be found in the last of the classical vase-rooms upstairs. once more, compare the little clay 'whorls' of the mexican and peruvian room with those which dr. schliemann found so numerous at hissarlik. the conviction becomes irresistible that all these objects, in shape, in purpose, in character of decoration, are the same, because the mind and the materials of men, in their early stages of civilisation especially, are the same everywhere. you might introduce old greek bits of clay-work, figures or vases, into a peruvian collection, or might foist mexican objects among the clay treasures of hissarlik, and the wisest archaeologist would be deceived. the greek fret pattern especially seems to be one of the earliest that men learnt to draw. the svastika, as it is called, the cross with lines at right angles to each limb, is found everywhere--in india, greece, scotland, peru--as a natural bit of ornament. the allegorising fancy of the indians gave it a mystic meaning, and the learned have built i know not what worlds of religious theories on this 'pre-christian cross,' which is probably a piece of hasty decorative work, with no original mystic meaning at all. { } ornaments of this sort were transferred from wood or bone to clay, almost as soon as people learned that early art, the potter's, to which the australians have not attained, though it was familiar to the not distant people of new caledonia. the style of spirals and curves, again, once acquired (as it was by the new zealanders), became the favourite of some races, especially of the celtic. any one who will study either the ornaments of mycenae, or those of any old scotch or irish collection, will readily recognise in that art the development of a system of ornament like that of the maoris. classical greece, on the other hand, followed more in the track of the ancient system of straight and slanted lines, and we do not find in the later greek art that love of interlacing coils and spirals which is so remarkable among the celts, and which is very manifest in the ornaments of the mycaenean hoards--that is, perhaps, of the ancient greek heroic age. the causes of these differences in the development of ornament, the causes that made celtic genius follow one track, and pursue to its aesthetic limits one early motif, while classical art went on a severer line, it is, perhaps, impossible at present to ascertain. but it is plain enough that later art has done little more than develop ideas of ornament already familiar to untutored races. [fig. . from a maori's face: .jpg] it has been shown that the art which aims at decoration is better adapted to both the purposes and materials of savages than the art which aims at representation. as a rule, the materials of the lower savages are their own bodies (which they naturally desire to make beautiful for ever by tattooing), and the hard substances of which they fashion their tools and weapons. these hard substances, when worked on with cutting instruments of stone or shell, are most easily adorned with straight cut lines, and spirals are therefore found to be, on the whole, a comparatively late form of ornament. [fig. . bushman dog: .jpg] we have now to discuss the efforts of the savage to represent. here, again, we have to consider the purpose which animates him, and the materials which are at his service. his pictures have a practical purpose, and do not spring from what we are apt, perhaps too hastily, to consider the innate love of imitation for its own sake. in modern art, in modern times, no doubt the desire to imitate nature, by painting or sculpture, has become almost an innate impulse, an in-born instinct. but there must be some 'reason why' for this; and it does not seem at all unlikely that we inherit the love, the disinterested love, of imitative art from very remote ancestors, whose habits of imitation had a direct, interested, and practical purpose. the member of parliament who mimics the crowing of a cock during debate, or the street boy who beguiles his leisure by barking like a dog, has a disinterested pleasure in the exercise of his skill; but advanced thinkers seem pretty well agreed that the first men who imitated the voices of dogs, and cocks, and other animals, did not do so merely for fun, but with the practical purpose of indicating to their companions the approach of these creatures. such were the rude beginnings of human language: and whether that theory be correct or not, there are certainly practical reasons which impel the savage to attempt imitative art. i doubt if there are many savage races which do not use representative art for the purposes of writing--that is, to communicate information to persons whom they cannot reach by the voice, and to assist the memory, which, in a savage, is perhaps not very strong. to take examples. a savage man meets a savage maid. she does not speak his language, nor he hers. how are they to know whether, according to the marriage laws of their race, they are lawful mates for each other? this important question is settled by an inspection of their tattooed marks. if a thlinkeet man of the swan stock meets an iroquois maid of the swan stock they cannot speak to each other, and the 'gesture language' is cumbrous. but if both are tattooed with the swan, then the man knows that this daughter of the swan is not for him. he could no more marry her than helen of troy could have married castor, the tamer of horses. both are children of the swan, as were helen and castor, and must regard each other as brother and sister. the case of the thlinkeet man and the iroquois maid is extremely unlikely to occur; but i give it as an example of the practical use among savages, of representative art. [fig. . red indian picture-writing - the legend of manabozho: .jpg] among the uses of art for conveying intelligence we notice that even the australians have what the greeks would have called the [greek], a staff on which inscriptions, legible to the aborigines, are engraven. i believe, however, that the australian [greek] is not usually marked with picture-writing, but with notches--even more difficult to decipher. as an example of red indian picture-writing we publish a scroll from kohl's book on the natives of north america. this rude work of art, though the reader may think little of it, is really a document as important in its way as the chaldaean clay tablets inscribed with the record of the deluge. the coarsely-drawn figures recall, to the artist's mind, much of the myth of manabozho, the prometheus and the deucalion, the cain and the noah of the dwellers by the great lake. manabozho was a great chief, who had two wives that quarrelled. the two stumpy half-figures ( ) represent the wives; the mound between them is the displeasure of manabozho. further on ( ) you see him caught up between two trees--an unpleasant fix, from which the wolves and squirrels refused to extricate him. the kind of pyramid with a figure at top ( ) is a mountain, on which when the flood came, manabozho placed his grandmother to be out of the water's way. the somewhat similar object is manabozho himself, on the top of his mountain. the animals you next behold ( ) were sent out by manabozho to ascertain how the deluge was faring, and to carry messages to his grandmother. this scroll was drawn, probably on birch bark, by a red man of literary attainments, who gave it to kohl (in its lower right-hand corner ( ) he has pictured the event), that he might never forget the story of the manabozhian deluge. the red indians have always, as far as european knowledge goes, been in the habit of using this picture-writing for the purpose of retaining their legends, poems, and incantations. it is unnecessary to say that the picture-writing of mexico and the hieroglyphics of ancient egypt are derived from the same savage processes. i must observe that the hasty indications of the figure used in picture-writing are by no means to be regarded as measures of the red men's skill in art. they can draw much better than the artist who recorded the manabozhian legend, when they please. in addition to picture-writing, religion has fostered savage representative art. if a man worships a lizard or a bear, he finds it convenient to have an amulet or idol representing a bear or a lizard. if one adores a lizard or a bear, one is likely to think that prayer and acts of worship addressed to an image of the animal will please the animal himself, and make him propitious. thus the art of making little portable figures of various worshipful beings is fostered, and the craft of working in wood or ivory is born. as a rule, the savage is satisfied with excessively rude representations of his gods. objects of this kind--rude hewn blocks of stone and wood--were the most sacred effigies of the gods in greece, and were kept in the dimmest recesses of the temple. no demeter wrought by the craft of phidias would have appeared so holy to the phigalians as the strange old figure of the goddess with the head of a mare. the earliest greek sacred sculptures that remain are scarcely, if at all, more advanced in art than the idols of the naked admiralty islanders. but this is anticipating; in the meantime it may be said that among the sources of savage representative art are the need of something like writing, and ideas suggested by nascent religion. [fig. . bushman wall-painting: .jpg] the singular wall-picture (fig. ) from a cave in south africa, which we copy from the 'cape monthly magazine,' probably represents a magical ceremony. bushmen are tempting a great water animal--a rhinoceros, or something of that sort--to run across the land, for the purpose of producing rain. the connection of ideas is scarcely apparent to civilised minds, but it is not more indistinct than the connection between carrying a bit of the rope with which a man has been hanged and success at cards--a common french superstition. the bushman cave-pictures, like those of australia, are painted in black, red, and white. savages, like the assyrians and the early greeks, and like children, draw animals much better than the human figure. the bushman dog in our little engraving (fig. ) is all alive--almost as full of life as the dog which accompanies the centaur chiron, in that beautiful vase in the british museum which represents the fostering of achilles. the bushman wall-paintings, like those of australia, seem to prove that savage art is capable of considerable freedom, when supplied with fitting materials. men seem to draw better when they have pigments and a flat surface of rock to work upon, than when they are scratching on hard wood with a sharp edge of a broken shell. though the thing has little to do with art, it may be worth mentioning, as a matter of curiosity, that the labyrinthine australian caves are decorated, here and there, with the mark of a red hand. the same mysterious, or at least unexplained, red hand is impressed on the walls of the ruined palaces and temples of yucatan--the work of a vanished people. [fig. . palaelithic art: .jpg] there is one singular fact in the history of savage art which reminds us that savages, like civilised men, have various degrees of culture and various artistic capacities. the oldest inhabitants of europe who have left any traces of their lives and handiwork must have been savages. their tools and weapons were not even formed of polished stone, but of rough-hewn flint. the people who used tools of this sort must necessarily have enjoyed but a scanty mechanical equipment, and the life they lived in caves from which they had to drive the cave-bear, and among snows where they stalked the reindeer and the mammoth, must have been very rough. these earliest known europeans, 'palaeolithic men,' as they called, from their use of the ancient unpolished stone weapons, appear to have inhabited the countries now known as france and england, before the great age of ice. this makes their date one of incalculable antiquity; they are removed from us by a 'dark backward and abysm of time.' the whole age of ice, the dateless period of the polishers of stone weapons, the arrival of men using weapons of bronze, the time which sufficed to change the climate and fauna and flora of western europe, lie between us and palaeolithic man. yet in him we must recognise a skill more akin to the spirit of modern art than is found in any other savage race. palaeolithic man, like other savages, decorated his weapons; but, as i have already said, he did not usually decorate them in the common savage manner with ornamental patterns. he scratched on bits of bone spirited representations of all the animals whose remains are found mixed with his own. he designed the large-headed horse of that period, and science inclines to believe that he drew the breed correctly. his sketches of the mammoth, the reindeer, the bear, and of many fishes, may be seen in the british museum, or engraved in such works as professor boyd dawkins's 'early man in britain.' the object from which our next illustration (fig. ) was engraved represents a deer, and was a knife-handle. eyes at all trained in art can readily observe the wonderful spirit and freedom of these ancient sketches. they are the rapid characteristic work of true artists who know instinctively what to select and what to sacrifice. [fig . palaeolithic art - a knife-handle: .jpg] some learned men, mr. boyd dawkins among them, believe that the eskimo, that stunted hunting and fishing race of the western arctic circle, are descendants of the palaeolithic sketchers, and retain their artistic qualities. other inquirers, with mr. geikie and dr. wilson, do not believe in this pedigree of the eskimo. i speak not with authority, but the submission of ignorance, and as one who has no right to an opinion about these deep matters of geology and ethnology. but to me, mr. geikie's arguments appear distinctly the more convincing, and i cannot think it demonstrated that the eskimo are descended from our old palaeolithic artists. but if mr. boyd dawkins is right, if the eskimo derive their lineage from the artists of the dordogne, then the eskimo are sadly degenerated. in mr. dawkins's 'early man' is an eskimo drawing of a reindeer hunt, and a palaeolithic sketch of a reindeer; these (by permission of the author and messrs. macmillan) we reproduce. look at the vigour and life of the ancient drawing--the feathering hair on the deer's breast, his head, his horns, the very grasses at his feet, are touched with the graver of a true artist (fig. ). the design is like a hasty memorandum of leech's. then compare the stiff formality of the modern eskimo drawing (fig. ). it is rather like a record, a piece of picture-writing, than a free sketch, a rapid representation of what is most characteristic in nature. clearly, if the eskimo come from palaeolithic man, they are a degenerate race as far as art is concerned. yet, as may be seen in dr. rink's books, the eskimo show considerable skill when they have become acquainted with european methods and models, and they have at any rate a greater natural gift for design than the red indians, of whose sacred art the thunderbird brooding over page is a fair example. the red men believe in big birds which produce thunder. quahteaht, the adam of vancouver's island, married one, and this (fig. ) is she. [fig. . red indian art - the thunderbird: .jpg] [fig. . eskimo drawing - a reindeer hunt: .jpg] [fig. . palaeolithic sketch - a reindeer: .jpg] we have tried to show how savage decorative art supplied the first ideas of patterns which were developed in various ways by the decorative art of advancing civilisation. the same progress might be detected in representative art. books, like the guide-book to ancient greece which pausanias wrote before the glory had quite departed, prove that the greek temples were museums in which the development of art might be clearly traced. furthest back in the series of images of gods came things like that large stone which was given to cronus when he wished to swallow his infant child zeus, and which he afterwards vomited up with his living progeny. this fetich-stone was preserved at delphi. next came wild bulks of beast-headed gods, like the horse-headed demeter of phigalia, and it seems possible enough that there was an artemis with the head of a she-bear. gradually the bestial characteristics dropped, and there appeared such rude anthropomorphic images of apollo--more like south sea idols than the archer prince--as are now preserved in athens. next we have the stage of semi-savage realism, which is represented by the metopes of selinus in sicily, now in the british museum, and by not a few gems and pieces of gold work. greek temples have fallen, and the statues of the gods exist only in scattered fragments. but in the representative collection of casts belonging to the cambridge archaeological museum, one may trace the career of greek art backwards from phidias to the rude idol. 'savage realism' is the result of a desire to represent an object as it is known to be, and not as it appears. thus catlin, among the red indians, found that the people refused to be drawn in profile. they knew they had two eyes, and in profile they seemed only to have one. look at the selinus marbles, and you will observe that figures, of which the body is seen in profile, have the full face turned to the spectator. again, the savage knows that an animal has two sides; both, he thinks, should be represented, but he cannot foreshorten, and he finds the profile view easiest to draw. to satisfy his need of realism he draws a beast's head full-face, and gives to the one head two bodies drawn in profile. examples of this are frequent in very archaic greek gems and gold work, and mr. a. s. murray suggests (as i understand him) that the attitude of the two famous lions, which guarded vainly agamemnon's gate at mycenae, is derived from the archaic double-bodied and single-headed beast of savage realism. very good examples of these oddities may be found in the 'journal of the hellenic society,' , pl. xv. here are double-bodied and single headed birds, monsters, and sphinxes. we engrave (fig. ) three greek gems from the islands as examples of savagery in early greek art. in the oblong gem the archers are rather below the red indian standard of design. the hunter figured in the first gem is almost up to the bushman mark. in his dress ethnologists will recognise an arrangement now common among the natives of new caledonia. in the third gem the woman between two swans may be leda, or she may represent leto in delos. observe the amazing rudeness of the design, and note the modern waist and crinoline. the artists who engraved these gems on hard stone had, of necessity, much better tools than any savages possess, but their art was truly savage. to discover how greek art climbed in a couple of centuries from this coarse and childish work to the grace of the aegina marbles, and thence to the absolute freedom and perfect unapproachable beauty of the work of phidias, is one of the most singular problems in the history of art. greece learned something, no doubt, from her early knowledge of the arts the priests of assyria and egypt had elaborated in the valleys of the euphrates and the nile. that might account for a swift progress from savage to formal and hieratic art; but whence sprang the inspiration which led her so swiftly on to art that is perfectly free, natural, and god-like? it is a mystery of race, and of a divine gift. 'the heavenly gods have given it to mortals.' [fig. . archaic greek gems: .jpg] footnotes: { a} compare de cara: essame critico, xx. i. { b} revue de l'hist. des rel. ii. . { } sprachvergleichung und urgeschichte, p. . { } prim. cult. i. . { a} a study of the contemporary stone age in scotland will be found in mitchell's past and present. { b} about twenty years ago, the widow of an irish farmer, in derry, killed her deceased husband's horse. when remonstrated with by her landlord, she said, 'would you have my man go about on foot in the next world?' she was quite in the savage intellectual stage. { } at the solemn festival suppers, ordained for the honour of the gods, they forget not to serve up certain dishes of young whelp's flesh. (pliny, h. n. xxix. .) { } nov. . { } 'ah, once again may i plant the great fan on her corn-heap, while she stands smiling by, demeter of the threshing floor, with sheaves and poppies in her hands' (theocritus, vii. - ). { } odyssey, xi. . { } rev. de l'hist. des rel., vol. ii. { } pausanias, iii. . when the boys were being cruelly scourged, the priestess of artemis orthia held an ancient barbaric wooden image of the goddess in her hands. if the boys were spared, the image grew heavy; the more they were tortured, the lighter grew the image. in samoa the image (shark's teeth) of the god taema is consulted before battle. 'if it felt heavy, that was a bad omen; if light, the sign was good'--the god was pleased (turner's samoa, p. ). [bull-roarer: .jpg] { } kamilaroi and kurnai, p. . { } fison, journal anthrop. soc., nov. . { a} taylor's new zealand, p. . { b} this is not the view of le pere lafitau, a learned jesuit missionary in north america, who wrote ( ) a work on savage manners, compared with the manners of heathen antiquity. lafitau, who was greatly struck with the resemblances between greek and iroquois or carib initiations, takes servius's other explanation of the mystica vannus, 'an osier vessel containing rural offerings of first fruits.' this exactly answers, says lafitau, to the carib matoutou, on which they offer sacred cassava cakes. { } the century magazine, may . { } [greek]. lobeck, aglaophamus (i. p. ). { a} de corona, p. . { b} savage africa. captain smith, the lover of pocahontas, mentions the custom in his work on virginia, pp. - . { c} brough smyth, i. , using evidence of howitt, taplin, thomas, and wilhelmi. { a} kamilaroi and kurnai, p. . { b} [greek], c. . { } cape monthly magazine, july . { } wallace, travels on the amazon, p. . { a} new zealand, taylor, pp. - . die heilige sage der polynesier, bastian, pp. - . { b} a crowd of similar myths, in one of which a serpent severs heaven and earth, are printed in turner's samoa. { } the translation used is jowett's. { a} theog., . { b} apollodorus, i. . { a} primitive culture, i. . { b} pauthier, livres sacres de l'orient, p. . { c} muir's sanskrit texts, v. . aitareya brahmana. { a} hesiod, theog., . { b} paus. x. . { a} bleek, bushman folklore, pp. - . { b} theal, kaffir folklore, pp. - . { c} brough smith, i. - . { a} i. . { b} rel. de la nouvelle-france ( ), p. . { } codrington, in journal anthrop. inst. feb. . there is a breton marchen of a land where people had to 'bring the dawn' daily with carts and horses. a boy, whose sole property was a cock, sold it to the people of this country for a large sum, and now the cock brings the dawn, with a great saving of trouble and expense. the marchen is a survival of the state of mind of the solomon islanders. { a} selected essays, i. . { b} ibid. i. . { } ueber entwicklungsstufen der mythenbildung ( ), p. . { a} ii. . { b} g. d. m., ii. , . { a} gr. my., i. . { b} de abst., ii. , . { c} rel. und myth., ii. . { d} ursprung der myth., pp. , , , . { a} contemporary review, sept. . { b} rev. de l'hist. rel. i. . { } that pururavas is regarded as a mortal man, in relations with some sort of spiritual mistress, appears from the poem itself (v. , , ). the human character of pururavas also appears in r. v. i. , . { a} selected essays, i. . { b} the apsaras is an ideally beautiful fairy woman, something 'between the high gods and the lower grotesque beings,' with 'lotus eyes' and other agreeable characteristics. a list of apsaras known by name is given in meyer's gandharven-kentauren, p. . they are often regarded as cloud-maidens by mythologists. { } selected essays, i. p. . { a} cf. ruber, rufus, o. h. g. rot, rudhira, [greek]; also sanskrit, ravi, sun. { b} myth. ar. nat., ii. . { c} r. v. iii. , . { d} the passage alluded to in homer does not mean that dawn 'ends' the day, but 'when the fair-tressed dawn brought the full light of the third day' (od., v. ). { a} liebrecht (zur volkskunde, ) is reminded by pururavas (in roth's sense of der bruller) of loud-thundering zeus, [greek]. { b} herabkunft des fetters, p. - . { } liebrecht (zur volkskunde, p. ) notices the reference to the 'custom of women.' but he thinks the clause a mere makeshift, introduced late to account for a prohibition of which the real meaning had been forgotten. the improbability of this view is indicated by the frequency of similar prohibitions in actual custom. { } astley, collection of voyages, ii. . this is given by bluet and moore on the evidence of one job ben solomon, a native of bunda in futa. 'though job had a daughter by his last wife, yet he never saw her without her veil, as having been married to her only two years.' excellently as this prohibition suits my theory, yet i confess i do not like job's security. { a} brough smyth, i. . { b} bowen, central africa, p. . { c} lafitau, i. . { d} lubbock, origin of civilisation ( ), p. . { a} chansons pop. bulg., p. . { b} lectures on language, second series, p. . { a} j. a. farrer, primitive manners, p. , quoting seemann. { b} sebillot, contes pop. de la haute-bretagne, p. . { a} gervase of tilbury. { b} kuhn, herabkunft, p. . { } chips, ii. . { a} kitchi gami, p. . { b} the sun-frog occurs seven times in sir g. w: cox's mythology of the aryan peoples, and is used as an example to prove that animals in myth are usually the sun, like bheki, 'the sun-frog.' { a} dalton's ethnol. of bengal, pp. , . { b} taylor, new zealand, p. . { a} liebrecht gives a hindoo example, zur volkskunde, p. . { b} cymmrodor, iv. pt. . { c} prim. cult., i. . { a} primitive manners, p. . { b} see meyer, gandharven-kentauren, benfey, pantsch., i. . { a} selected essays, i. . { b} callaway, p. . { c} ibid., p. . { } primitive culture, i. : 'the savage sees individual stars as animate beings, or combines star-groups into living celestial creatures, or limbs of them, or objects connected with them.' { } this formula occurs among bushmen and eskimo (bleek and rink). { } the events of the flight are recorded correctly in the gaelic variant 'the battle of the birds.' (campbell, tales of the west highlands, vol. i. p. .) { a} ralston, russian folk tales, ; kohler, orient und occident, ii. , . { b} ko ti ki, p. . { c} callaway, pp. , , , , . { d} see also 'petrosinella' in the pentamerone, and 'the mastermaid' in dasent's tales from the norse. { e} folk-lore journal, august . { } poetae minores gr. ii. { } mythol. ar., ii. . { a} gr. my., ii. . { b} sonne, mond und sterne, pp. , . { a} this proves that the tale belongs to the pre-christian cannibal age. { b} turner's samoa, p. . in this tale only the names of the daughters are translated; they mean 'white fish' and 'dark fish.' { c} folk-lore journal, august . { } schoolcraft, algic researches, ii. - . { a} nature, march , . { b} the earlier part of the jason cycle is analysed in the author's preface to grimm's marchen (bell & sons). { a} comm. real. i. . { b} see early history of the family, infra. { a} the names totem and totemism have been in use at least since , among writers on the north american tribes. prof. max muller (academy, jan. ) says the word should be, not totem, but ote or otem. long, an interpreter among the indians, introduced the word totamism in . { b} christoval de moluna ( ), p. . { c} cieza de leon, p. . { d} idyll xv. { } sayce, herodotos, p. ; herodotus, ii. ; wilkinson's ancient egyptians ( , ii. , note ); plutarch, de is. et os., , ; athenaeus, vii. ; strabo, xvii. . { a} the mouse, according to dalton, is still a totem among the oraons of bengal. a man of the mouse 'motherhood,' as the totem kindred is locally styled, may not eat mice (esteemed a delicacy), nor marry a girl who is a mouse. { b} xiii. . casaub. . { c} there were sminthiac feasts at rhodes, gela, lesbos, and crete (de witte, revue numismatique, n.s. iii. - ). { a} iliad, i. . { b} aelian, h. a. xii. . { a} the bas-relief is published in paoli's della religione de' gentili, naples, , p. ; also by fabretti, ad cal. oper. de colum. trajan. p. . paoli's book was written after the discovery in neapolitan territory of a small bronze image, hieratic in character, representing a man with a mouse on his hand. paoli's engraving of this work of art, unluckily, does not enable us to determine its date or _provenance_. the book is a mine of mouse-lore. { b} colden, history of the five nations, p. ( ). { c} onomast., ix. , segm. , p. . { d} de witte says pollux was mistaken here. in the revue numismatique, n.s. iii., de witte publishes coins of alexandria, the more ancient hamaxitus, in the troad. the sminthian apollo is represented with his bow, and the mouse on his hand. other coins show the god with the mouse at his foot, or show us the lyre of apollo supported by mice. a bronze coin in the british museum gives apollo with the mouse beside his foot. { a} spanheim, ad fl. joseph., vi. i, p. . { b} della rel., p. . { c} herodotus, ii. . { a} liebrecht (zur volkskunde, p. , quoting journal asiatique, st series, , ) finds the same myth in chinese annals. it is not a god, however, but the king of the rats, who appears to the distressed monarch in his dream. rats then gnaw the bowstrings of his enemies. the invaders were turks, the rescued prince a king of khotan. the king raised a temple, and offered sacrifice--to the rats? { b} herodotos, p. . { a} wilkinson, iii. , quoting the ritual xxxiii.: 'thou devourest the abominable rat of ra, or the sun.' { b} mr. loftie has kindly shown me a green mouse containing the throne-name of thothmes iii. the animals thus used as substitutes for scarabs were also sacred, as the fish, rhinoceros, fly, all represented in mr. loftie's collection. see his essay of scarabs, p. . it may be admitted that, in a country where cats were gods, the religion of the mouse must have been struggling and oppressed. [illustration: .jpg] { a} strabo, xiii. . { b} eustathius on iliad, i. . { c} a strange and true relation of the prodigious multitude of mice, . { a} journal of philol., xvii. p. . { b} leviticus xi. . { } samuel i. , . { a} zool. myth, ii. . { b} melusine, n.s. i. { a} de iside et osiride, lxxvi. { b} this hypothesis does not maintain that totemism prevailed in greece during historic times. though plutarch mentions an athenian [greek], the ioxidae, which claimed descent from and revered asparagus, it is probable that genuine totemism had died out of greece many hundreds of years before even homer's time. but this view is not inconsistent with the existence of survivals in religion and ritual. { } rolland, faune populaire. { } the attempt is not to explain the origin of each separate name but only of the general habit of giving animal or human names stars. { } mr. herbert spencer believes that the australians were once more civilised than at present. but there has never been found a trace of pottery on the australian continent, which says little for their civilisation in the past. { } brugsch, history of egypt, i. . { } brough smith. { } amazonian tortoise myths, p. . { a} sahagun, vii. . { b} grimm, d. m., engl. transl., p. . { } hartt, op. cit., p. . { a} kaegi, der rig veda, p. . { b} mainjo-i-khard, , , ed. west. { c} op. cit. p. . { } prim. cult., i. . { } lectures on language, pp. , . { } grimm, d. m., engl., trans. p. . { } tom sawyer, p. . { a} rep. vi. . dem. , . { b} journal anthrop. inst., feb. . { a} gregor, folklore of north-east counties, p, . { b} wars of jews, vii. , . { c} var. hist., , . { } max muller, selected essays, ii. . { } myth of kirke, p. . { a} turner's samoa. { b} josephus, loc. cit. for this, and many other references, i am indebted to schwartz's prahistorisch-anthropologische studien. in most magic herbs the learned author recognises thunder and lightning--a theory no less plausible than mr. brown's. { c} lib. xxviii. { d} schoolcraft. { a} talvj, charakteristik der volkslieder, p. . { b} fauriel, chants de la grece moderne. { } thus scotland scarcely produced any ballads, properly speaking, after the reformation. the kirk suppressed the dances to whose motion the ballad was sung in scotland, as in greece, provence, and france. { } l. preller's ausgewahlte aufsatze. greek ideas on the origin of man. it is curious that the myth of a gold, a silver, and a copper race occurs in south america. see brasseur de bourbourg's notes on the popol vuh. { a} see essay on early history of the family. { b} this constant struggle may be, and of course by one school of comparative mythologists will be, represented as the strife between light and darkness, the sun's rays, and the clouds of night, and so on. m. castren has well pointed out that the struggle has really an historical meaning. even if the myth be an elementary one, its constructors must have been in the exogamous stage of society. { } sampo _may_ be derived from a thibetan word, meaning 'fountain of good,' or it may possibly be connected with the swedish stamp, a hand- mill. the talisman is made of all the quaint odds and ends that the fetichist treasures: swan's feathers, flocks of wool, and so on. { } sir g. w. cox's popular romances of the middle ages, p. . { } fortnightly review, : 'the worship of plants and animals.' { } mr. mclennan in the fortnightly review, february . { } m. schmidt, volksleben der neugriechen, finds comparatively few traces of the worship of zeus, and these mainly in proverbial expressions. { } preller, ausgewahlte aufsatze, p. . { a} tylor, prim. cult., ii. . pinkerton, vii. . { b} universities mission to central africa, p. . prim. cult,, ii. , . { } quoted in 'jacob's rod': london, n.d., a translation of la verge de jacob, lyon, . { } lettres sur la baguette, pp. - . { } turner's samoa, pp, , . { } cox, mythol. of aryan races, passim. { a} see examples in 'a far-travelled tale,' 'cupid and psyche,' and 'the myth of cronus.' { b} trubner, . { a} hahn, p. . { b} ibid., p. . { } expedition, i. . { } herodotus, ii. { } see fetichism and the infinite. { } sacred books of the east, xii. , , { } lectures on language. second series, p. . { } a defence of the evidence for our knowledge of savage faiths, practices, and ideas will be found in primitive culture, i. - . { } a third reference to pausanias i have been unable to verify. there are several references to greek fetich-stones in theophrastus's account of the superstitious man. a number of greek sacred stones named by pausanias may be worth noticing. in boeotia (ix. ), the people believed that alcmene, mother of heracles, was changed into a stone. the thespians worshipped, under the name of eros, an unwrought stone, [greek], 'their most ancient sacred object' (ix. ). the people of orchomenos 'paid extreme regard to certain stones,' said to have fallen from heaven, 'or to certain figures made of stone that descended from the sky' (ix. ). near chaeronea, rhea was said to have deceived cronus, by offering him, in place of zeus, a stone wrapped in swaddling bands. this stone, which cronus vomited forth after having swallowed it, was seen by pausanias at delphi (ix. ). by the roadside, near the city of the panopeans, lay the stones out of which prometheus made men (x. ). the stone swallowed in place of zeus by his father lay at the exit from the delphian temple, and was anointed (compare the action of jacob, gen. xxviii. ) with oil every day. the phocians worshipped thirty squared stones, each named after a god (vii. xxii.). '_among all the greeks rude stones were worshipped before the images of the gods_.' among the troezenians a sacred stone lay in front of the temple, whereon the troezenian elders sat, and purified orestes from the murder of his mother. in attica there was a conical stone worshipped as apollo (i. xliv.). near argos was a stone called zeus cappotas, on which orestes was said to have sat down, and so recovered peace of mind. such are examples of the sacred stones, the oldest worshipful objects, of greece. { } see essays on 'apollo and the mouse' and 'the early history of the family.' { } here i may mention a case illustrating the motives of the fetich- worshipper. my friend, mr. j. j. atkinson, who has for many years studied the manners of the people of new caledonia, asked a native _why_ he treasured a certain fetich-stone. the man replied that, in one of the vigils which are practised beside the corpses of deceased friends, he saw a lizard. the lizard is a totem, a worshipful animal in new caledonia. the native put out his hand to touch it, when it disappeared and left a stone in its place. this stone he therefore held sacred in the highest degree. here then a fetich-stone was indicated as such by a spirit in form of a lizard. { a} much the same theory is propounded in mr. muller's lectures on 'the science of religion.' { b} the idea is expressed in a well known parody of wordsworth, about the tree which 'will grow ten times as tall as me and live ten times as long.' { } see essay on 'the early history of the family.' { } bergaigne's la religion vedique may be consulted for vedic fetichism. { a} early law and custom. { b} studies in ancient history, p. . { } descent of man, ii. . { } early law and custom, p. . { a} here i would like to point out that mr. m'lennan's theory was not so hard and fast as his manner (that of a very assured believer in his own ideas) may lead some inquirers to suppose. sir henry maine writes, that both mr. morgan and mr. m'lennan 'seem to me to think that human society went everywhere through the same series of changes, and mr. m'lennan, at any rate, expresses himself as if all those stages could be clearly discriminated from one another, and the close of one and the commencement of another announced with the distinctness of the clock-bell telling the end of the hour.' on the other hand, i remember mr. m'lennan's saying that, in his opinion, 'all manner of arrangements probably went on simultaneously in different places.' in studies in ancient history, p. , he expressly guards against the tendency 'to assume that the progress of the various races of men from savagery has been a uniform progress: that all the stages which any of them has gone through have been passed in their order by all.' still more to the point is his remark on polyandry among the very early greeks and other aryans; 'it is quite consistent with my view that in all these quarters (persia, sparta, troy, lycia, attica, crete, &c.) monandry, and even the patria potestas, may have prevailed at points.' { b} early law and custom, p. . { } studies in ancient history, pp. - . { } totem is the word generally given by travellers and interpreters for the family crests of the red indians. cf. p. . { } domestic manners of the chinese, i. . { } fortnightly review, june , . { } kamilaroi and kurnai. natives call these objects their kin, 'of one flesh' with them. { } studies, p. . { a} o'curry, manners of ancient irish, l. ccclxx., quoting trin. coll. dublin ms. { b} see also elton's origins of english history, pp. - . { c} kemble's saxons in england, p. . politics of aristotle, bolland and lang, p. . { d} { d} mr. grant allen kindly supplied me some time ago with a list of animal and vegetable names preserved in the titles of ancient english village settlements. among them are: ash, birch, bear (as among the iroquois), oak, buck, fir, fern, sun, wolf, thorn, goat, horse, salmon (the trout is a totem in america), swan (familiar in australia), and others. { } 'gentiles sunt qui inter se eodem nomine sunt. qui ab ingeniis oriundi sunt. quorum majorum nemo servitutem servivit. qui capite non sunt deminuti.' { } studies in ancient history, p. . { } fortnightly review, october : 'archaeologia americana,' ii. . { a} suidas, . { b} herod., i. . { c} cf. bachofen, p. . { d} compare the irish nennius, p. . { } the illustrations in this article are for the most part copied, by permission of messrs. cassell & co., from the magazine of art, in which the essay appeared. { } part of the pattern (fig. , b) recurs on the new zealand bull- roarer, engraved in the essay on the bull-roarer. [bull-roarer: .jpg] { } see schliemann's troja, wherein is much learning and fancy about the aryan svastika. none bulfinch's mythology the age of fable revised by rev. e. e. hale contents chapter i origin of greeks and romans. the aryan family. the divinities of these nations. character of the romans. greek notion of the world. dawn, sun, and moon. jupiter and the gods of olympus. foreign gods. latin names.-- saturn or kronos. titans. juno, vulcan, mars, phoebus-apollo, venus, cupid, minerva, mercury, ceres, bacchus. the muses. the graces. the fates. the furies. pan. the satyrs. momus. plutus. roman gods. chapter ii roman idea of creation. golden age. milky way. parnassus. the deluge. deucalion and pyrrha. pandora. prometheus. apollo and daphne. pyramus and thisbe. davy's safety lamp. cephalus and procris chapter iii juno. syrinx, or pandean pipes. argus's eyes. io. callisto constellations of great and little bear. pole-star. diana. actaeon. latona. rustics turned to frogs. isle of delos. phaeton. palace of the sun. phoebus. day. month. year. hours. seasons. chariot of the sun. people of aethiopia. libyan desert. the wells dry. the sea shrinks. phaeton's tomb. the heliades chapter iv silenus. midas. bacchus's reward to midas. river pactolus. pan challenges apollo. midas's ears. gordian knot. baucis and philemon. aetna. perpetual spring. pluto carries off prosperine. cere's search. prosperine's release. eleusinian mysteries. glaucis changed to a fish. scylla chapter v pygmalion's statue. dryope and iole. lotus tree. venus and adonis. anemone or wind flower. apollo and hyacinthus. game of quoits. flower hyacinthus. ceyx and halcyone. palace of the king of sleep. morpheus. halcyon birds. chapter vi hamadryads. pomona. vertumnus. iphis. cupid and psyche. zephyr. temple of ceres. temple of venus. the ant. golden fleece. pluto. cerberus. charon. the treasure. stygian sleep. cup of ambrosia. birth of pleasure. greek name of psyche. chapter vii cadmus. origin of city of thebes. tyrians. serpent. dragon's teeth. harmonia. serpent sacred to mars. myrmidons. cephalus. aeacus. pestilence sent by june. origin of myrmidons. chapter viii minos, king of crete. nisus, his purple hair. scylla's betrayal. her punishment. echo. juno's sentence. narcissus. love for his own image. clytie. hopeless love for apollo. becomes a flower. hero and leander. hellespont chapter ix goddess of wisdom. arachne. her challenge with minerva. minerva's web. arachne's web. transformation. niobe queen of thebes. mount cynthus. death of niobe's children. changed to stone. the gray-haired sisters. the gorgon medusa. tower of brass. danae. perseus. net of dicte. minerva. king atlas. andromeda. sea monster. wedding feast. enemies turned to stone. chapter x attributes of monsters. laius. oedipus. the oracle. sphinx. the riddle. oedipus made king. jocasta. origin of pegasus. fountain of hippocrene. the chimaera. bellerophontic letters. the centaurs. the pygmies. description of the griffin. the native country. one-eyed people chapter xi the ram with the golden fleece. the hellespont. jason's quest. sowing the dragon's teeth. jason's father. incantations of medea. ancient name of greece. great gatherings of the greeks. wild boar. atalanta's race. three golden apples. lovers' ingratitude. venus's revenge. corybantes chapter xii labors of hercules.-- fight with nemean lion.-- slaughter of the hydra. cleaning the augean stables.-- girdle of the queen of the amazons.-- oxen of geryon.-- golden apples of hesperides.-- victory over antaeus.-- cacus slain.-- hercules, descent into hades.-- he becomes the slave of omphale.-- dejanira's charm.-- death of hercules.-- hebe, goddess of youth chapter xiii theseus moves the fated stone, and proceeds to athens.-- procrustes's bedstead.-- tribute to minos.-- ariadne.-- clew of thread.-- encounter with the minotaur.-- theseus becomes king of athens.-- friendship of theseus and pirithous. the theseum.-- festival of panathenaea.-- elgin marbles.-- national greek games.-- the labyrinth.-- daedalus' wings.-- invention of the saw.-- castor and pollux.-- argonautic expedition.-- orpheus's harp.-- gemini chapter xiv destruction of semele.-- infancy of bacchus.-- march of bacchus.- - one of the bacchanals taken prisoner.-- pentheus.-- worship of bacchus established in greece.-- ariadne.-- bacchus's marriage.-- ariadne's crown chapter xv pan.-- shepherd's pipe.-- panic terror.-- signification of the name pan.-- latin divinities.-- wood nymphs.-- water nymphs.-- sea nymphs. pleasing traits of old paganism.-- mrs. browning's poem.-- violation of cere's grove.-- erisichthon's punishment.-- rhoecus.-- water deities.-- neptune's symbol of power.-- latin name for the muses, and other deities.-- personification of the winds. the harpies.-- worship of fortuna chapter xvi transformation of achelous.-- origin of the cornucopia.-- ancient meaning of fight of achelous with hercules.-- aesculapius.-- the cyclops. antigone.-- expedition of the "seven against thebes."- - antigone's sisterly devotion.-- antigone's burial.-- penelope.- - statue to modesty.-- ulysses.-- penelope's suitors.-- penelope's web chapter xvii orpheus's lyre.-- unhappy prognostics at orpheus's marriage.-- eurydice's death.-- orpheus descends to the stygian realm.-- orpheus loses eurydice forever.-- thracian maidens.-- honey.-- aristaeus's loss and complaint.-- cyrene's apartments.-- proteus captured.-- his directions to orpheus.-- swarm of bees.-- celebrated mythical poets and musicians.-- first mortal endowed with prophetic powers chapter xviii adventures of real persons.-- arion, famous musician.-- description of ancient theatres.-- murder of ibycus.-- chorus personating the furies.-- cranes of ibycus.-- the murderers seized.-- simonides.-- scopa's jest. simonides's escape.-- sappho.-- "lover's leap" chapter xix endymion.-- mount latmos. gift of perpetual youth and perpetual sleep.-- orion.-- kedalion.-- orion's girdle.-- the fatal shot the pleiads.-- aurora.-- memnon.-- statue of memnon.-- scylla.-- acis and galatea.-- river acis chapter xx minerva's competition.-- paris's decision.-- helen.-- paris's elopement.-- ulysses's pretence.-- the apple of discord.-- priam, king of troy.-- commander of grecian armament.-- principal leaders of the trojans.-- agamemnon kills the sacred stag.-- iphigenia.-- the trojan war.-- the iliad.-- interest of dods and goddesses in the war.-- achilles's suit of armor.-- death of hector.-- ransom sent to achilles.-- achilles grants priam's request.-- hector's funeral solemnities. chapter xxi achilles captivated by polyxena.-- achilles' claim.-- bestowal of achilles' armor.-- the hyacinth.-- arrows of hercules.-- death of paris.-- celebrated statue of minerva.-- wooden horse.-- greeks pretend to abandon the siege.-- sea serpents.-- laocoon.-- troy subdued.-- helen and menelaus.-- nepenthe.-- agamemnon's misfortunes.-- orestes.-- electra.-- site of the city of troy chapter xxii the odyssey.-- the wanderings of ulysses.-- country of the cyclops.-- the island of aeolus.-- the barbarous tribe of laestrygonians.-- circe.-- the sirens.-- scylla and charybdis.-- cattle of hyperion.-- ulysses's raft.-- calypso entertains ulysses.-- telemachus and mentor escape from calypso's isle chapter xxiii ulysses abandons the raft.-- the country of the phaeacians.-- nausicaa's dream.-- a game of ball.-- ulysses's dilemma.-- nausicaa's courage.-- the palace of alcinous.-- skill of the phaeacian women.-- hospitality to ulysses.-- demodocus, the blind bard.-- gifts to ulysses chapter xxv virgil's description of the region of the dead.-- descend into hades.-- the black river and ferryman.-- cape palinurus.-- the three-headed dog.-- regions of sadness.-- shades of grecian and trojan warriors.-- judgment hall of rhadamanthus.-- the elysian fields.-- aeneas meets his father.-- anchises explains the plan of creation.-- transmigration of souls.-- egyptian name of hades.-- location of elysium.-- prophetic power of the sibyl.-- legend of the nine books stories of gods and heroes. chapter i introduction the literature of our time, as of all the centuries of christendom, is full of allusions to the gods and goddesses of the greeks and romans. occasionally, and, in modern days, more often, it contains allusions to the worship and the superstitions of the northern nations of europe. the object of this book is to teach readers who are not yet familiar with the writers of greece and rome, or the ballads or legends of the scandinavians, enough of the stories which form what is called their mythology, to make those allusions intelligible which one meets every day, even in the authors of our own time. the greeks and romans both belong to the same race or stock. it is generally known in our time as the aryan family of mankind; and so far as we know its history, the greeks and romans descended from the tribes which emigrated from the high table- lands of northern india. other tribes emigrated in different directions from the same centre, so that traces of the aryan language are found in the islands of the pacific ocean. the people of this race, who moved westward, seem to have had a special fondness for open air nature, and a willingness to personify the powers of nature. they were glad to live in the open air, and they specially encouraged the virtues which an open-air people prize. thus no roman was thought manly who could not swim, and every greek exercised in the athletic sports of the palaestra. the romans and grecian and german divisions of this great race are those with which we have most to do in history and in literature. our own english language is made up of the dialects of different tribes, many of whom agreed in their use of words which they had derived from our aryan ancestry. thus our substantive verb i am appears in the original sanscrit of the aryans as esmi, and m for me (moi), or the first person singular, is found in all the verbal inflections. the greek form of the same verb was esmi, which became asmi, and in latin the first and last vowels have disappeared, the verb is sum. similar relationships are traced in the numerals, and throughout all the languages of these nations. the romans, like the etruscans who came before them, were neither poetical nor imaginative in temperament. their activity ran in practical directions. they therefore invented few, if any stories, of the gods whom they worshipped with fixed rites. mr. macaulay speaks of these gods as "the sober abstractions of the roman pantheon." we owe most of the stories of the ancient mythology to the wit and fancy of the greeks, more playful and imaginative, who seized from egypt and from the east such legends as pleased them, and adapted them in their own way. it often happens that such stories, resembling each other in their foundation, are found in the greek and roman authors in several different forms. to understand these stories, we will here first acquaint ourselves with the ideas of the structure of the universe, which the poets and others held, and which will form the scenery, so to speak, of the narratives. the greek poets believed the earth to be flat and circular, their own country occupying the middle of it, the central point being either mount olympus, the abode of the gods, or delphi, so famous for its oracle. the circular disk of the earth was crossed from west to east, and divided into two equal parts by the sea, as they called the mediterranean, and its continuation the euxine. around the earth flowed the river ocean, its course being from south to north on the western side of the earth, and in a contrary direction on the eastern side. it flowed in a steady, equable current, unvexed by storm or tempest. the sea, and all the rivers on earth, received their waters from it. the northern portion of the earth was supposed to be inhabited by a happy race named the hyperboreans [this word means "who live beyond the north" from the word "hyper," beyond, and boreas, the north wind], dwelling in everlasting bliss and spring beyond the lofty mountains whose caverns were supposed to send forth the piercing blasts of the north wind, which chilled the people of hellas (greece). their country was inaccessible by land or sea. they lived exempt from disease or old age, from toils and warfare. moore has given us the "song of a hyperborean," beginning "i come from a land in the sun-bright deep, where golden gardens glow, where the winds of the north, becalmed in sleep, their conch-shells never blow." on the south side of the earth, close to the stream of ocean, dwelt a people happy and virtuous as the hyperboreans. they were named the aethiopians. the gods favored them so highly that they were wont to leave at times their olympian abodes, and go to share their sacrifices and banquets. on the western margin of the earth, by the stream of ocean, lay a happy place named the elysian plain, whither mortals favored by the gods were transported without tasting of death, to enjoy an immortality of bliss. this happy region was also called the "fortunate fields," and the "isles of the blessed." we thus see that the greeks of the early ages knew little of any real people except those to the east and south of their own country, or near the coast of the mediterranean. their imagination meantime peopled the western portion of this sea with giants, monsters, and enchantresses; while they placed around the disk of the earth, which they probably regarded as of no great width, nations enjoying the peculiar favor of the gods, and blessed with happiness and longevity. the dawn, the sun, and the moon were supposed to rise out of the ocean, on the western side, and to drive through the air, giving light to gods and men. the stars also, except those forming charles' wain or bear, and others near them, rose out of and sank into the stream of ocean. there the sun-god embarked in a winged boat, which conveyed him round by the northern part of the earth, back to his place of rising in the east. milton alludes to this in his "commmus." "now the gilded car of day his golden axle doth allay in the steep atlantic stream, and the slope sun his upward beam shoots against the dusky pole, pacing towards the other goal of his chamber in the east." the abode of the gods was on the summit of mount olympus, in thessaly. a gate of clouds, kept by the goddesses named the seasons, opened to permit the passage of the celestials to earth, and to receive them on their return. the gods had their separate dwellings; but all, when summoned, repaired to the palace of jupiter [or zeus. the relation of these names to each other will be explained on the next page], as did also those deities whose usual abode was the earth, the waters, or the underworld. it was also in the great hall of the palace of the olympian king that the gods feasted each day on ambrosia and nectar, their food and drink, the latter being handed round by the lovely goddess hebe. here they conversed of the affairs of heaven and earth; and as they quaffed their nectar, apollo, the god of music, delighted them with the tones of his lyre, to which the muses sang in responsive strains. when the sun was set, the gods retired to sleep in their respective dwellings. the following lines from the odyssey will show how homer conceived of olympus:-- "so saying, minerva, goddess azure-eyed, rose to olympus, the reputed seat eternal of the gods, which never storms disturb, rains drench, or snow invades, but calm the expanse and cloudless shines with purest day. t here the inhabitants divine rejoice forever.:" cowper such were the abodes of the gods as the greeks conceived them. the romans, before they knew the greek poetry, seem to have had no definite imagination of such an assembly of gods. but the roman and etruscan races were by no means irreligious. they venerated their departed ancestors, and in each family the worship of these ancestors was an important duty. the images of the ancestors were kept in a sacred place, each family observed, at fixed times, memorial rites in their honor, and for these and other religious observances the family hearth was consecrated. the earliest rites of roman worship are supposed to be connected with such family devotions. as the greeks and romans became acquainted with other nations, they imported their habits of worship, even in early times. it will be remembered that as late as st. paul's time, he found an altar at athens "to an unknown god." greeks and romans alike were willing to receive from other nations the legends regarding their gods, and to incorporate them as well as they could with their own. it is thus that in the poetical mythology of those nations, which we are now to study, we frequently find a latin and a greek name for one imagined divinity. thus zeus, of the greeks, becomes in latin with the addition of the word pater (a father) [the reader will observe that father is one of the words derived from an ayan root. let p and t become rough, as the grammarians say, let p become ph, and t th, and you have phather or father], jupiter kronos of the greeks appears as "vulcanus" of the latins, "ares" of the greeks is "mars" or mavors of the latins, "poseidon" of the greeks is "neptunus" of the latins, "aphrodite" of the greeks is "venus" of the latins. this variation is not to be confounded with a mere translation, as where "paulos" of the greek becomes "paulus" in latin, or "odysseus" becomes "ulysses," or as when "pierre" of the french becomes "peter" in english. what really happened was, that as the romans, more cultivated than their fathers, found in greek literature a god of fire and smithery, they transferred his name "hephaistos" to their own old god "vulcanus," who had the same duties, and in their after literature the latin name was used for the stories of greek and latin origin. as the english literature came into being largely on french and latin models, and as french is but a degraded latin and retains latin roots largely, in our older english poets the latin forms of these names are generally used. in our own generation, with the precision now so much courted, a fashion has come in, of designating mars by his greek name of "ares," venus by her name of "aphrodite," and so on. but in this book, as our object is to make familiar the stores of general english literature which refer to such subjects, we shall retain, in general, the latin names, only calling the attention of the reader to the greek names, as they appear in greek authors, and in many writers of the more recent english schools. the real monarch of the heavens in the mythology of both greece and rome is jupiter (zeus-pater, father-jove) [jove appears to be a word derived from the same root as zeus, and it appears in the root dev of the sanscrit, where devas are gods of different forms. our english word devil probably comes from the french diable, italian diavolo, latin diabolus, one who makes division,- - literally one who separates balls, or throws balls about,-- instead of throwing them frankly and truly at the batsman. it is not to be traced to the sanscrit deva.] in the mythological system we are tracing zeus is himself the father of many of the gods, and he is often spoken of as father of gods and men. he is the father of vulcan [in greek hephaistos], of venus [in greek aphrodite], of minerva [in greek pallas athene, or either name separately], of apollo [of phoebus], diana [in greek artemis], and of mercury [in greek hermes], who are ranked among the twelve superior gods, and of many inferior deities. but jupiter himself is not the original deity in these systems. he is the son of saturnus, as in the greek zeus is the son of kronos. still the inevitable question would occur where did saturnus or kronos come from. and, in forms and statements more and more vague, the answer was that he was born from uranus or ouranos, which is the name of the heaven over all which seemed to embrace all things. the greek name of saturn was spelled kronos. the greek name of time was spelled chronos. a similarity between the two was imagined. and the whole statement, when reduced to rationalistic language, would be that from uranus, the infinite, was born chronos, time,-- that from time, zeus or jupiter was born, and that he is the only child of time who has complete sway over mortals and immortals. "the will of jove i own, who mortals and immortals rules alone." homer, ii.xii jupiter was son of saturn (kronos) [the names included in parentheses are the greek, the others being the roman or latin names] and ops (rhea in greek, sometimes confounded with the phrygian cybele). saturn and rhea were of the race of titans, who were the children of earth and heaven, which sprang from chaos, of which we shall give a further account in our next chapter. in allusion to the dethronement of ouranos by kronos, and of kronos or saturnus by zeus or jupiter, prometheus says in aeschylus's tragedy,-- "you may deem its towers impregnable; but have i not already seen two monarchs hurled from them." thee is another cosmogony, or account of the creation, according to which earth, erebus, and love were the first of beings. love (eros)_ issued from the egg of night, which floated on chaos. by his arrows and torch he pierced and vivified all things, producing life and joy. saturn and rhea were not the only titans. there were others, whose names were oceanus, hyperion, iapetus, and ophion, males; and themis, mnemosyne, eurynome, females. they are spoken of as the elder gods, whose dominion was afterwards transferred to others. saturn yielded to jupiter, oceanus to neptune, hyperion to apollo. hyperion was the father of the sun, moon, and dawn. he is therefore the original sun-god, and is painted with the splendor and beauty which were afterwards bestowed on apollo. "hyperion's curls, the front of jove himself." shakespeare ophion and eurynome ruled over olympus till they were dethroned by saturn and rhea. milton alludes to them in paradise lost. he says the heathen seem to have had some knowledge of the temptation and fall of man,-- "and fabled how the serpent, whom they called ophion, with eurynome (the wide- encroaching eve perhaps), had first the rule of high olympus, thence by saturn driven." the representations given of saturn are not very consistent, for on the one hand his reign is said to have been the golden age of innocence and purity, and on the other he is described as a monster who devoured his own children [this inconsistency arises from considering the saturn of the romans the same with the grecian deity chronos (time), which, as it brings an end to all things which have had a beginning, may be said to devour its own offspring.] jupiter, however, escaped this fate, and when grown up espoused metis (prudence), who administered a draught to saturn which caused him to disgorge his children. jupiter, with his brothers and sisters, now rebelled against their father saturn, and his brothers the titans; vanquished them, and imprisoned some of them in tartarus, inflicting other penalties on others. atlas was condemned to bear up the heavens on his shoulders. on the dethronement of saturn, jupiter with his brothers neptune (poseidon) and pluto (dis) divided his dominions. jupiter's portion was the heavens, neptune's the ocean, and pluto's the realms of the dead. earth and olympus were common property. jupiter was king of gods and men. the thunder was his weapon, and he bore a shield called aegis, made for him by vulcan. the eagle was his favorite bird, and bore his thunderbolts. juno (hera)[pronounce he-re, in two syllables] was the wife of jupiter, and queen of the gods. iris, the goddess of the rainbow, was her attendant and messenger. the peacock was her favorite bird. vulcan (hephaistos), the celestial artist, was the son of jupiter and juno. he was born lame, and his mother was so displeased at the sight of him that she flung him out of heaven. other accounts say that jupiter kicked him out for taking part with his mother, in a quarrel which occurred between them. vulcan's lameness, according to this account, was the consequence of his fall. he was a whole day falling, and at last alighted in the island of lemnos, which was thenceforth sacred to him. milton alludes to this story in paradise lost, book i. "from morn to noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, a summer's day; and with the setting sun dropped from the zenith, like a falling star, on lemnos, the aegean isle." mars (ares), the god of war, was the son of jupiter and juno. phoebus apollo [this is a greek name of a greek divinity, who seems to have had no roman resemblance], the god of archery, prophecy, and music, was the son of jupiter and latona, and brother of diana (artemis). he was god of the sun, as diana, his sister, was the goddess of the moon. venus (aphrodite), the goddess of love and beauty, was the daughter of jupiter and dione. others say that venus sprang from the foam of the sea. the zephyr wafted her along the waves to the isle of cyprus, where she was received and attired by the seasons, and then led to the assembly of the gods. all were charmed with her beauty, and each one demanded her for his wife. jupiter gave her to vulcan, in gratitude for the service he had rendered in forging thunderbolts. so the most beautiful of the goddesses became the wife of the most ill-favored of the gods. venus possessed an embroidered girdle called the cestus, which had the power of inspiring love. her favorite birds were swans and doves, and the plants sacred to her were the rose and the myrtle. cupid (eros), the god of love, was the son of venus. he was her constant companion; and, armed with bow and arrows, he shot the darts of desire into the bosoms of both gods and men. there was a deity named anteros, who was sometimes represented as the avenger of slighted love, and sometimes as the symbol of reciprocal affection. the following legend is told of him:-- venus, complaining to themis that her son eros continued always a child, was told by her that it was because he was solitary, and that if he had a brother he would grow apace. anteros was soon afterwards born, and eros immediately was seen to increase rapidly in size and strength. minerva (pallas athene), the goddess of wisdom, was the offspring of jupiter, without a mother. she sprang from his head, completely armed. her favorite bird was the owl, and the plant sacred to her the olive. byron, in "childe harold," alludes to the birth of minerva thus:-- "can tyrants but by tyrants conquered be, and freedom find no champion and no child, such as columbia saw arise, when she sprang forth a pallas, armed and undefiled? or must such minds be nourished in the wild, deep in the unpruned forest, 'midst the roar of cataracts, where nursing nature smiled on infant washington? has earth no more such seeds within her breast, or europe no such shore?" mercury (hermes), was the son of jupiter and maia. he presided over commerce, wrestling and other gymnastic exercises; even over thieving, and everything, in short, which required skill and dexterity. he was the messenger of jupiter, and wore a winged cap and winged shoes. he bore in his hand a rod entwined with two serpents, called the caduceus. mercury is said to have invented the lyre. four hours after his birth he found the shell of a tortoise, made holes in the opposite edges of it, and drew cords of linen through them, and the instrument was complete [from this origin of the instrument, the word "shell" is often used as synonymous with :"lyre," and figuratively for music and poetry. thus gray, in his ode on the "progress of poesy," says,-- "o sovereign of the willing soul, parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, enchanting shell! the sullen cares and frantic passions hear thy soft control."] the cords were nine, in honor of the nine muses. mercury gave the lyre to apollo, and received from him in exchange the caduceus. ceres (demeter) was the daughter of saturn and rhea. she had a daughter named proserpine (persephone), who became the wife of pluto, and queen of the realms of the dead. ceres presided over agriculture. bacchus (dionysus)_, the god of wine, was the son of jupiter and semele. he represents not only the intoxicating power of wine, but its social and beneficent influences likewise; so that he is viewed as the promoter of civilization, and a lawgiver and lover of peace. the muses were the daughters of jupiter and mnemosyne (memory). they presided over song, and prompted the memory. they were nine in number, to each of whom was assigned the presidency over some particular department of literature, art, or science. calliope was the muse of epic poetry, clio of history, euterpe of lyric poetry, melpomene of tragedy, terpischore of choral dance and song, erato of love-poetry, polyhymnia of sacred poetry, urania of astronomy, thalia [pronounced tha-lei-a, with the emphasis on the second syllable] of comedy. spenser described the office of the graces thus:-- "these three on men all gracious gifts bestow which deck the body or adorn the mind, to make them lovely or well-favored show; as comely carriage, entertainment kind, sweet semblance, friendly offices that bind, and all the compliments of courtesy; they teach us how to each degree and kind we should ourselves demean, to low, to high. to friends, to foes; which skill men call civility." the fates were also three clotho, lachesis, and atropos. their office was to spin the thread of human destiny, and they were armed with shears, with which they cut it off when they pleased. they were the daughters of themis (law), who sits by jove on his throne to give him counsel. the erinnyes, or furies, were three goddesses who punished crimes by their secret stings. the heads of the furies were wreathed with serpents, and their whole appearance was terrific and appalling. their names were alecto, tisiphone, and megaera. they were also called eumenides. nemesis was also an avenging goddess. she represents the righteous anger of the gods, particularly towards the proud and insolent. pan [the name pan means everything, and he is sometimes spoken of as the god of all nature] was the god of flocks and shepherds. his favorite residence, as the greeks describe him, was in arcadia. the satyrs were deities of the woods and fields. they were conceived to be covered with bristly hair, their heads decorated with short, sprouting horns, and their feet like goats' feet. momus was the god of laughter, and plutus the god of wealth. roman divinities the preceding are grecian divinities, though received also by the romans. those which follow are peculiar to roman mythology. saturn was an ancient italian deity. the roman poets tried to identify him with the grecian god kronos, and fabled that after his dethronement by jupiter, he fled to italy, where he reigned during what was called the golden age. in memory of his beneficent dominion, the feast of saturnalia was held every year in the winter season. then all public business was suspended, declarations of war and criminal executions were postponed, friends made presents to one another, and the slaves were indulged with great liberties. a feast was given them at which they sat at table, while their masters served them, to show the natural equality of men, and that all things belonged equally to all, in the reign of saturn. faunus [there was also a goddess called fauna, or bona dea], the grandson of saturn, was worshipped as the god of fields and shepherds, and also as a prophetic god. his name in the plural, fauns, expressed a class of gamesome deities, like the satyrs of the greeks. quirinus was a war god, said to be no other than romulus the founder of rome, exalted after his death to a place among the gods. bellona, a war goddess. terminus, the god of landmarks. his statue was a rude stone or post, set in the ground to mark the boundaries of fields. pales, the goddess presiding over cattle and pastures. pomona presided over fruit trees. flora, the goddess of flowers. lucina, the goddess of childbirth. vesta (the hestia of the greeks) was a deity presiding over the public and private hearth. a sacred fire, tended by six virgin priestesses called vestals, flamed in her temple. as the safety of the city was held to be connected with its conservation, the neglect of the virgins, if they let it go out, was severely punished, and the fire was rekindled from the rays of the sun. liber is another latin name of bacchus; and mulciber of vulcan. janus was the porter of heaven. he opens the year, the first month being named after him. he is the guardian deity of gates, on which account he is commonly represented with two heads, because every door looks two ways. his temples at rome were numerous. in war time the gates of the principal one were always open. in peace they were closed; but they were shut only once between the reign of numa and that of augustus. the penates were the gods who were supposed to attend to the welfare and prosperity of the family. their name is derived from penus, the pantry, which was sacred to them. every master of a family was the priest to the penates of his own house. the lares, or lars, were also household gods, but differed from the penates in being regarded as the deified spirits of mortals. the family lars were held to be the souls of the ancestors, who watched over and protected their descendants. the words lemur and larva more nearly correspond to our word ghost. the romans believed that every man had his genius, and every woman her juno; that is, a spirit who had given them being, and was regarded as a protector through life. on birthdays men made offerings to their genius, women to their juno. macaulay thus alludes to some of the roman gods:-- "pomona loves the orchard, and liber loves the vine, and pales loves the straw-built shed warm with the breath of kine; and venus loves the whisper of plighted youth and maid in april's ivory moonlight, beneath the chestnut shade." "prophecy of capys." n.b. it is to be observed that in proper names the final e and es are to be sounded. thus cybele and penates are words of three syllables. but proserpine and thebes have been so long used as english words, that they may be regarded as exceptions, to be pronounced as if english. hecate is sometimes pronounced by the poets as a dissylable. in the index at the close of the volume, we shall mark the accented syllable, in all words which appear to require it. chapter ii prometheus and pandora the roman poet ovid gives us a connected narrative of creation. before the earth and sea and the all-covering heaven, one aspect, which we call chaos, covered all the face of nature,-- a rough heap of inert weight and discordant beginnings of things clashing together. as yet no sun gave light to the world, nor did the moon renew her slender horn month by month,-- neither did the earth hang in the surrounding air, poised by its own weight,-- nor did the sea stretch its long arms around the earth. wherever there was earth, there was also sea and air. so the earth was not solid nor was the water fluid, neither was the air transparent. god and nature at last interposed and put an end to this discord, separating earth from sea, and heaven from both. the fiery part, being the lightest, sprang up, and formed the skies; the air was next in weight and place. the earth, being heavier, sank below, and the water took the lowest place and buoyed up the earth. here some god, no man knows who, arranged and divided the land. he placed the rivers and bays, raised mountains and dug out valleys and distributed woods, fountains, fertile fields and stony plains. now that the air was clear the stars shone out, the fishes swam the sea and birds flew in the air, while the four-footed beasts roamed around the earth. but a nobler animal was needed, and man was made in the image of the gods with an upright stature [the two greek words for man have the root an, "up], so that while all other animals turn their faces downward and look to the earth, he raises his face to heaven and gazes on the stars [every reader will be interested in comparing this narrative with that in the beginning of genesis. it seems clear that so many jews were in rome in ovid's days, many of whom were people of consideration among those with whom he lived, that he may have heard the account in the hebrew scriptures translated. compare judaism by prof. frederic huidekoper.] to prometheus the titan and to his brother epimetheus was committed the task of making man and all other animals, and of endowing them with all needful faculties. this epimetheus did, and his brother overlooked the work. epimetheus then gave to the different animals their several gifts of courage, strength, swiftness and sagacity. he gave wings to one, claws to another, a shelly covering to the third. man, superior to all other animals, came last. but for man epimetheus had nothing,-- he had bestowed all his gifts elsewhere. he came to his brother for help, and prometheus, with the aid of minerva, went up to heaven, lighted his torch at the chariot of the sun, and brought down fire to man. with this, man was more than equal to all other animals. fire enabled him to make weapons to subdue wild beasts, tools with which to till the earth. with fire he warmed his dwelling and bid defiance to the cold. woman was not yet made. the story is, that jupiter made her, and sent her to prometheus and his brother, to punish them for their presumption in stealing fire from heaven; and man, for accepting the gift. the first woman was named pandora. she was made in heaven, every god contributing something to perfect her. venus gave her beauty, mercury persuasion, apollo music. thus equipped, she was conveyed to earth, and presented to epimetheus, who gladly accepted her, though cautioned by his brother to beware of jupiter and his gifts. epimetheus had in his house a jar, in which were kept certain noxious articles, for which, in fitting man for his new abode, he had had no occasion. pandora was seized with an eager curiosity to know what this jar contained; and one day she slipped off the cover and looked in. forthwith there escaped a multitude of plagues for hapless man,-- such as gout, rheumatism, and colic for his body, and envy, spite, and revenge for his mind,-- and scattered themselves far and wide. pandora hastened to replace the lid; but, alas! the whole contents of the jar had escaped, one thing only excepted, which lay at the bottom, and that was hope. so we see at this day, whatever evils are abroad, hope never entirely leaves us; and while we have that, no amount of other ills can make us completely wretched. another story is, that pandora was sent in good faith, by jupiter, to bless man; that she was furnished with a box, containing her marriage presents, into which every god had put some blessing. she opened the box incautiously, and the blessings all escaped, hope only excepted. this story seems more consistent than the former; for how could hope, so precious a jewel as it is, have been kept in a jar full of all manner of evils? the world being thus furnished with inhabitants, the first age was an age of innocence and happiness, called the golden age. truth and right prevailed, though not enforced by law, nor was there any magistrate to threaten or punish. the forest had not yet been robbed of its trees to furnish timbers for vessels, nor had men built fortifications round their towns. there were no such things as swords, spears, or helmets. the earth brought forth all things necessary for man, without his labor in ploughing or sowing. perpetual spring reigned, flowers sprang up without seed, the rivers flowed with milk and wine, and yellow honey distilled from the oaks. "but when good saturn, banished from above, was driven to hell, the world was under jove. succeeding times a silver age behold, excelling brass, but more excelled by gold. then summer, autumn, winter did appear, and spring was but a season of the year. the sun his annual course obliquely made, good days contracted and enlarged the bad, then air, with sultry heats, began to glow; the wings of winds were clogged with ice and sno and shivering mortals into houses driven, sought shelter from the inclemency of heaven. those houses then were caves, or homely sheds; with twining osiers fenced; and moss their beds. then ploughs, for seed, the fruitful furrows broke, and oxen labored first beneath the yoke. to this came next in course the brazen age: a warlike offspring, prompt to bloody rage, not impious yet! . . . . . hard steel succeeded then; and stubborn as the metal were the men." ovid's metam, book i. dryden's translation. crime burst in like a flood; modesty, truth, and honor fled. in their places came fraud and cunning, violence, and the wicked love of gain. then seamen spread sails to the wind, and the trees were torn from the mountains to serve for keels to ships, and vex the face of ocean. the earth, which till now had been cultivated in common, began to be divided off into possessions. men were not satisfied with what the surface produced, but must dig into its bowels, and draw forth from thence the ores of metals. mischievous iron, and more mischievous gold, were produced. war sprang up, using both as weapons; the guest was not safe in his friend's house; and sons-in-law and fathers-in- law, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, could not trust one another. sons wished their fathers dead, that they might come to the inheritance; family love lay prostrate. the earth was wet with slaughter, and the gods abandoned it, one by one, till astraea [the goddess of innocence and purity. after leaving earth, she was placed among the stars, where she became the constellation virgo the virgin. themis (justice) was the mother of astraea. she is represented as holding aloft a pair of scales, in which she weighs the claims of opposing parties. it was a favorite idea of the old poets, that these goddesses would one day return, and bring back the golden age. even in a christian hymn, the messiah of pope, this idea occurs. "all crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail, returning justice lift aloft her scale, peace o'er the world her olive wand extend, and white-robed innocence from heaven descend." see, also, milton's hymn on the nativity, stanzas xiv, and xv] alone was left, and finally she also took her departure. jupiter, seeing this state of things, burned with anger. he summoned the gods to council. they obeyed the call, and took the road to the palace of heaven. the road, which any one may see in a clear night, stretches across the face of the sky, and is called the milky way. along the road stand the palaces of the illustrious gods; the common people of the skies live apart, on either side. jupiter addressed the assembly. he set forth the frightful condition of things on the earth, and closed by announcing his intention to destroy the whole of its inhabitants, and provide a new race, unlike the first, who would be more worthy of life, and much better worshippers of the gods. so saying he took a thunderbolt, and was about to launch it at the world, and destroy it by burning it; but recollecting the danger that such a conflagration might set heaven itself on fire, he changed his plan, and resolved to drown the world. aquilo, the north wind, which scatters the clouds, was chained up; notus, the south, was sent out, and soon covered all the face of heaven with a cloak of pitchy darkness. the clouds, driven together, resound with a crash; torrents of rain fall; the crops are laid low; the year's labor of the husbandman perishes in an hour. jupiter, not satisfied with his own waters, calls on his brother neptune to aid him with his. he lets loose the rivers, and pours them over the land. at the same time, he heaves the land with an earthquake, and brings in the reflux of the ocean over the shores. flocks, herds, men, and houses are swept away, and temples, with their sacred enclosures, profaned. if any edifice remained standing, it was overwhelmed, and its turrets lay hid beneath the waves. now all was sea; sea without shore. here and there some one remained on a projecting hill-top, and a few, in boats, pulled the oar where they had lately driven the plough. the fishes swim among the tree-tops; the anchor is let down into a garden. where the graceful lambs played but now, unwieldy sea- calves gambol. the wolf swims among the sheep; the yellow lions and tigers struggle in the water. the strength of the wild boar serves him not, nor his swiftness the stag. the birds fall with weary wing into the water, having found no land for a resting place. those living beings whom the water spared fell a prey to hunger. parnassus alone, of all the mountains, overtopped the waves; and there deucalion and his wife pyrrha, of the race of prometheus, found refuge he a just man, and she a faithful worshipper of the gods. jupiter, when he saw none left alive but this pair, and remembered their harmless lives and pious demeanor, ordered the north winds to drive away the clouds, and disclose the skies to earth, and earth to the skies. neptune also directed triton to blow on his shell, and sound a retreat to the waters. the waters obeyed, and the sea returned to its shores, and the rivers to their channels. then deucalion thus addressed pyrrha: "o wife, only surviving woman, joined to me first by the ties of kindred and marriage, and now by a common danger, would that we possessed the power of our ancestor prometheus, and could renew the race as he at first made it! but as we cannot, let us seek yonder temple, and inquire of the gods what remains for us to do." they entered the temple, deformed as it was with slime, and approached the altar, where no fire burned. there they fell prostrate on the earth, and prayed the goddess to inform them how they might retrieve their miserable affairs. the oracle answered, "depart from the temple with head veiled and garments unbound, and cast behind you the bones of your mother." they heard the words with astonishment. pyrrha first broke silence: "we cannot obey; we dare not profane the remains of our parents." they sought the thickest shades of the wood, and revolved the oracle in their minds. at length deucalion spoke: "either my sagacity deceives me, or the command is one we may obey without impiety. the earth is the great parent of all; the stones are her bones; these we may cast behind us; and i think this is what the oracle means. at least, it will do no harm to try." they veiled their faces, unbound their garments, and picked up stones, and cast them behind them. the stones (wonderful to relate) began to grow soft, and assume shape. by degrees, they put on a rude resemblance to the human form, like a block half finished in the hands of the sculptor. the moisture and slime that were about them became flesh; the stony part became bones; the veins remained veins, retaining their name, only changing their use. those thrown by the hand of the man became men, and those by the woman became women. it was a hard race, and well adapted to labor, as we find ourselves to be at this day, giving plain indications of our origin. the comparison of eve to pandora is too obvious to have escaped milton, who introduces it in book iv, of paradise lost:-- "more lovely than pandora, whom the gods endowed with all their gifts; and o, too like in sad event, when to the unwiser son of jupiter, brought by hermes, she ensnared mankind with her fair looks, to be avenged on him who had stole jove's authentic fire." prometheus and epimetheus were sons of iapetus, which milton changes to japhet. prometheus, the titan son of iapetus and themis, is a favorite subject with the poets. aeschylus wrote three tragedies on the subjects of his confinement, his release, and his worship at athens. of these only the first is preserved, the prometheus bound. prometheus was the only one in the council of the gods who favored man. he alone was kind to the human race, and taught and protected them. "i formed his mind, and through the cloud of barbarous ignorance diffused the beams of knowledge . . . . they saw indeed, they heard, but what availed or sight or hearing, all things round them rolling, like the unreal imagery of dreams in wild confusion mixed! the lightsome wall of finer masonry, the raftered roof they knew not; but like ants still buried, delved deep in the earth and scooped their sunless caves. unmarked the seasons ranged, the biting winter, the flower-perfumed spring, the ripening summer fertile of fruits. at random all their works till i instructed them to mark the stars, their rising, and, a harder science yet, their setting. the rich train of marshalled numbers i taught them, and the meet array of letters. to impress these precepts on their hearts i sent memory, the active mother of all reason. i taught the patient steer to bear the yoke, in all his toils joint-laborer of man. by me the harnessed steed was trained to whirl the rapid car, and grace the pride of wealth. the tall bark, lightly bounding o'er the waves, i taught its course, and winged its flying sail. to man i gave these arts." potter's translation from the prometheus bound jupiter, angry at the insolence and presumption of prometheus in taking upon himself to give all these blessings to man, condemned the titan to perpetual imprisonment, bound on a rock on mount caucasus while a vulture should forever prey upon his liver. this state of torment might at any time have been brought to an end by prometheus if he had been willing to submit to his oppressor. for prometheus knew of a fatal marriage which jove must make and by which he must come to ruin. had prometheus revealed this secret he would at once have been taken into favor. but this he disdained to do. he has therefore become the symbol of magnanimous endurance of unmerited suffering and strength of will resisting oppression. byron and shelley have both treated this theme. the following are byron's lines:-- "titan! to whose immortal eyes the sufferings of mortality, seen in their sad reality, were not as things that gods despise, what was thy pity's recompense? a silent suffering, and intense; the rock, the vulture, and the chain; all that the proud can feel of pain; the agony they do not show; the suffocating sense of woe. "thy godlike crime was to be kind; to render with thy precepts less the sum of human wretchedness, and strengthen man with his own mind. and, baffled as thou wert from high, still, in thy patient energy, in the endurance and repulse, of thine impenetrable spirit, which earth and heaven could not convulse, a mighty lesson we inherit." python the slime with which the earth was covered by the waters of the flood, produced an excessive fertility, which called forth every variety of production, both bad and good. among the rest, python, an enormous serpent, crept forth, the terror of the people, and lurked in the caves of mount parnassus. apollo slew him with his arrows weapons which he had not before used against any but feeble animals, hares, wild goats, and such game. in commemoration of this illustrious conquest he instituted the pythian games, in which the victor in feats of strength, swiftness of foot, or in the chariot race, was crowned with a wreath of beech leaves; for the laurel was not yet adopted by apollo as his own tree. and here apollo founded his oracle at delphi, the only oracle "that was not exclusively national, for it was consulted by many outside nations, and, in fact, was held in the highest repute all over the world. in obedience to its decrees, the laws of lycurgus were introduced, and the earliest greek colonies founded. no cities were built without first consulting the delphic oracle, for it was believed that apollo took special delight in the founding of cities, the first stone of which he laid in person; nor was any enterprise ever undertaken without inquiry at this sacred fane as to its probable success" [from beren's myths and legends of greece and rome.] the famous statue of apollo called the belvedere [from the belvedere of the vatican palace where it stands] represents the god after his victory over the serpent python. to this byron alludes in his childe harold, iv. :-- "the lord of the unerring bow, the god of life, and poetry, and light, the sun, in human limbs arrayed, and brow all radiant from his triumph in the fight. the shaft has just been shot; the arrow bright with an immortal's vengeance; in his eye and nostril, beautiful disdain, and might, and majesty flash their full lightnings by, developing in that one glance the deity." apollo and daphne daphne was apollo's first love. it was not brought about by accident, but by the malice of cupid. apollo saw the boy playing with his bow and arrows; and being himself elated with his recent victory over python, he said to him, "what have you to do with warlike weapons, saucy boy? leave them for hands worthy of them. behold the conquest i have won by means of them over the vast serpent who stretched his poisonous body over acres of the plain! be content with your torch, child, and kindle up your flames, as you call them, where you will, but presume not to meddle with my weapons." venus's boy heard these words, and rejoined, ":your arrows may strike all things else, apollo, but mine shall strike you.:" so saying, he took his stand on a rock of parnassus, and drew from his quiver two arrows of different workmanship, one to excite love, the other to repel it. the former was of gold and sharp- pointed, the latter blunt and tipped with lead. with the leaden shaft he struck the nymph daphne, the daughter of the river god peneus, and with the golden one apollo, through the heart. forthwith the god was seized with love for the maiden, and she abhorred the thought of loving. her delight was in woodland sports and in the spoils of the chase. many lovers sought her, but she spurned them all, ranging the woods, and taking thought neither of cupid nor of hymen. her father often said to her, "daughter, you owe me a son-in-law; you owe me grandchildren." she, hating the thought of marriage as a crime, with her beautiful face tinged all over with blushes, threw her arms around her father's neck, and said, "dearest father, grant me this favor, that i may always remain unmarried, like diana." he consented, but at the same time said, "your own face will forbid it." apollo loved her, and longed to obtain her; and he who gives oracles to all in the world was not wise enough to look into his own fortunes. he saw her hair flung loose over her shoulders, and said, "if so charming in disorder, what would it be if arranged?" he saw her eyes bright as stars; he saw her lips, and was not satisfied with only seeing them. he admired her hands and arms bared to the shoulder, and whatever was hidden from view he imagined more beautiful still. he followed her; she fled, swifter than the wind, and delayed not a moment at his entreaties. "stay," said he, "daughter of peneus; i am not a foe. do not fly me as a lamb flies the wolf, or a dove the hawk. it is for love i pursue you. you make me miserable, for fear you should fall and hurt yourself on these stones, and i should be the cause. pray run slower, and i will follow slower. i am no clown, no rude peasant. jupiter is my father, and i am lord of delphos and tenedos, and know all things, present and future. i am the god of song and the lyre. my arrows fly true to the mark; but alas! an arrow more fatal than mine has pierced my heart! i am the god of medicine, and know the virtues of all healing plants. alas! i suffer a malady that no balm can cure!" the nymph continued her flight, and left his plea half uttered. and even as she fled she charmed him. the wind blew her garments, and her unbound hair streamed loose behind her. the god grew impatient to find his wooings thrown away, and, sped by cupid, gained upon her in the race. it was like a hound pursuing a hare, with open jaws ready to seize, while the feebler animal darts forward, slipping from the very grasp. so flew the god and the virgin he on the wings of love, and she on those of fear. the pursuer is the more rapid, however, and gains upon her, and his panting breath blows upon her hair. now her strength begins to fail, and, ready to sink, she calls upon her father, the river god: "help me, peneus! open the earth to enclose me, or change my form, which has brought me into this danger!" scarcely had she spoken, when a stiffness seized all her limbs; her bosom began to be enclosed in a tender bark; her hair became leaves; her arms became branches; her feet stuck fast in the ground, as roots; her face became a tree-top, retaining nothing of its former self but its beauty. apollo stood amazed. he touched the stem, and felt the flesh tremble under the new bark. he embraced the branches, and lavished kisses on the wood. the branches shrank from his lips. "since you cannot be my wife," said he, "you shall assuredly be my tree. i will wear you for my crown. with you i will decorate my harp and my quiver; and when the great roman conquerors lead up the triumphal pomp to the capitol, you shall be woven into wreaths for their brows. and, as eternal youth is mine, you also shall be always green, and your leaf know no decay." the nymph, now changed into a laurel tree, bowed its head in grateful acknowledgment. apollo was god of music and of poetry and also of medicine. for, as the poet armstrong says, himself a physician:-- "music exalts each joy, allays each grief, expels disease, softens every pain; and hence the wise of ancient days adored one power of physic, melody, and song." the story of apollo and daphne is often alluded to by the poets. waller applies it to the case of one whose amatory verses, though they did not soften the heart of his mistress, yet won for the poet wide-spread fame. "yet what he sung in his immortal strain, though unsuccessful, was not sung in vain. all but the nymph that should redress his wrong, attend his passion and approve his song. like phoebus thus, acquiring unsought praise, he caught at love and filled his arms with bays." the following stanza from shelley's adonais alludes to byron's early quarrel with the reviewers:-- "the herded wolves, bold only to pursue; the obscene ravens, clamorous o'er the dead; the vultures, to the conqueror's banner true, who feed where desolation first has fed. and whose wings rain contagion; how they fled, when like apollo, from his golden bow, the pythian of the age one arrow sped and smiled! the spoilers tempt no second blow; they fawn on the proud feet that spurn them as they go." pyramus and thisbe pyramus was the handsomest youth, and thisbe the fairest maiden, in all babylonia, where semiramis reigned. their parents occupied adjoining houses; and neighborhood brought the young people together, and acquaintance ripened into love. they would gladly have married, but their parents forbade. one thing, however, they could not forbid that love should glow with equal ardor in the bosoms of both. they conversed by signs and glances, and the fire burned more intensely for being covered up. in the wall that parted the two houses there was a crack, caused by some fault in the structure. no one had remarked it before, but the lovers discovered it. 'what will love not discover? it afforded a passage to the voice; and tender messages used to pass backward and forward through the gap. as they stood, pyramus on this side, thisbe on that, their breaths would mingle. "cruel wall," they said, "why do you keep two lovers apart? but we will not be ungrateful. we owe you, we confess, the privilege of transmitting loving words to willing ears." such words they uttered on different sides of the wall; and when night came and they must say farewell, they pressed their lips upon the wall, she on her side, he on his, as they could come no nearer. one morning, when aurora had put out the stars, and the sun had melted the frost from the grass, they met at the accustomed spot. then, after lamenting their hard fate, they agreed that next night, when all was still, they would slip away from watchful eyes, leave their dwellings and walk out into the fields; and to insure a meeting, repair to a well-known edifice, standing without the city's bounds, called the tomb of ninus, and that the one who came first should await the other at the foot of a certain tree. it was a white mulberry tree and stood near a cool spring. all was agreed on, and they waited impatiently for the sun to go down beneath the waters and night to rise up from them. then cautiously thisbe stole forth, unobserved by the family, her head covered with a veil, made her way to the monument and sat down under the tree. as she sat alone in the dim light of the evening she descried a lioness, her jaws reeking with recent slaughter, approaching the fountain to slake her thirst. thisbe fled at the sight, and sought refuge in the hollow of a rock. as she fled she dropped her veil. the lioness, after drinking at the spring, turned to retreat to the woods, and seeing the veil on the ground, tossed and rent it with her bloody mouth. pyramus, having been delayed, now approached the place of meeting. he saw in the sand the footsteps of the lion, and the color fled from his cheeks at the sight. presently he found the veil all rent and bloody. "oh, hapless girl," said he, "i have been the cause of thy death! thou, more worthy of life than i, hast fallen the first victim. i will follow. i am the guilty cause, in tempting thee forth to a place of such peril, and not being myself on the spot to guard thee. come forth, ye lions, from the rocks, and tear this guilty body with your teeth" he took up the veil, carried it with him to the appointed tree, and covered it with kisses and with tears. "my blood also shall stain your texture," said he, and drawing his sword plunged it into his heart. the blood spurted from the wound, and tinged the white mulberries of the tree all red; and sinking into the earth reached the roots, so that the red color mounted through the trunk to the fruit. by this time, thisbe, still trembling with fear, yet wishing not to disappoint her lover, stepped cautiously forth, looking anxiously for the youth, eager to tell him the danger she had escaped. when she came to the spot and saw the changed color of the mulberries she doubted whether it was the same place. while she hesitated she saw the form of one struggling in the agonies of death. she started back, a shudder ran through her frame as a ripple on the face of the still water when a sudden breeze sweeps over it. but as soon as she recognized her lover, she screamed and beat her breast; embracing the lifeless body, pouring tears into its wounds, and imprinting kisses on the cold lips. "oh, pyramus," she cried, "what has done this? answer me, pyramus; it is your own thisbe that speaks. hear me, dearest, and lift that drooping head!" at the name of thisbe, pyramus opened his eyes, then closed them again. she saw her veil stained with blood and the scabbard empty of its sword. "thy own hand has slain thee, and for my sake," she said. "i too can be brave for once, and my love is as strong as thine. i will follow thee in death, for i have been the cause; and death, which alone could part us, shall not prevent my joining thee. and ye, unhappy parents of us both, deny us not our united request. as love and death have joined us, let one tomb contain us. and thou, tree, retain the marks of slaughter. let thy berries still serve for memorials of our blood." so saying, she plunged the sword into her breast. her parents acceded to her wish; the gods also ratified it. the two bodies were buried in one sepulchre, and the tree ever after brought forth purple berries, as it does to this day. moore, in the sylph's ball, speaking of davy's safety lamp, is reminded of the wall that separated thisbe and her lover:-- "o for that lamp's metallic gauze, that curtain of protecting wire, which davy delicately draws around illicit, dangerous fire! "the wall he sets 'twixt flame and air, (like that which barred young thisbe's bliss), through whose small holes this dangerous pair may see each other, but not kiss." in mickle's translation of the lusiad occurs the following allusion to the story of pyramus and thisbe, and the metamorphosis of the mulberries. the poet is describing the island of love. "here each gift pomona's hand bestows in cultured garden, free uncultured flows, the flavor sweeter and the hue more fair than e'er was fostered by the hand of care. the cherry here in shining crimson glows, and stained with lover's blood, in pendent rows, the mulberries o'erload the bending boughs." if any of our young readers can be so hard-hearted as to enjoy a laugh at the expense of poor pyramus and thisbe, they may find an opportunity by turning to shakespeare's play of midsummer night's dream, where it is most amusingly burlesqued. here is the description of the play and the characters by the prologue. "gentles, perchance you wonder at this show; but wonder on, till truth makes all things plain. this man is pyramus, if you would know; this lovely lady thisby is certain. this man with lime and roughcast, doth present wall, that vile wall, which did these lovers sunder; and through wall's chink, poor souls, they are content to whisper. at the which let no man wonder. this man, with lanthorn, dog and bush of thorn, presenteth moonshine; for, if you will know, by moonshine did these lovers think no scorn to meet at ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. this grisly beast, which by name lion hight. the trusty thisby, coming first by night, did scare away, or rather did affright; and, as she fled, her mantle she did fall, which lion vile with bloody mouth did stain. anon comes pyramus, sweet youth and tall, and finds his trusty thisby's mantle slain; whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade, he bravely broached his boiling bloody breast; and, thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade, his dagger drew and died." midsummer night's dream, v. , , et seq. cephalus and procris cephalus was a beautiful youth and fond of manly sports. he would rise before the dawn to pursue the chase. aurora saw him when she first looked forth, fell in love with him, and stole him away. but cephalus was just married to a charming wife whom he loved devotedly. her name was procris. she was a favorite of diana, the goddess of hunting, who had given her a dog which could outrun every rival, and a javelin which would never fail of its mark; and procris gave these presents to her husband. cephalus was so happy in his wife that he resisted all the entreaties of aurora, and she finally dismissed him in displeasure, saying, "go, ungrateful mortal, keep your wife, whom, if i am not much mistaken, you will one day be very sorry you ever saw again." cephalus returned, and was as happy as ever in his wife and his woodland sports. now it happened some angry deity had sent a ravenous fox to annoy the country; and the hunters turned out in great strength to capture it. their efforts were all in vain; no dog could run it down; and at last they came to cephalus to borrow his famous dog, whose name was lelaps. no sooner was the dog let loose than he darted off, quicker than their eye could follow him. if they had not seen his footprints in the sand they would have thought he flew. cephalus and others stood on a hill and saw the race. the fox tried every art; he ran in a circle and turned on his track, the dog close upon him, with open jaws, snapping at his heels, but biting only the air. cephalus was about to use his javelin, when suddenly he saw both dog and game stop instantly. the heavenly powers who had given both, were not willing that either should conquer. in the very attitude of life and action they were turned into stone. so lifelike and natural did they look, you would have thought, as you looked at them, that one was going to bark, the other to leap forward. cephalus, though he had lost his dog, still continued to take delight in the chase. he would go out at early morning, ranging the woods and hills unaccompanied by any one, needing no help, for his javelin was a sure weapon in all cases. fatigued with hunting, when the sun got high he would seek a shady nook where a cool stream flowed, and, stretched on the grass with his garments thrown aside, would enjoy the breeze. sometimes he would say aloud, "come, sweet breeze, come and fan my breast, come and allay the heat that burns me." some one passing by one day heard him talking in this way to the air, and, foolishly believing that he was talking to some maiden, went and told the secret to procris, cephalus's wife. love is credulous. procris, at the sudden shock, fainted away. presently recovering, she said, "it cannot be true; i will not believe it unless i myself am a witness to it." so she waited, with anxious heart, till the next morning, when cephalus went to hunt as usual. then she stole out after him, and concealed herself in the place where the informer directed her. cephalus came as he was wont when tired with sport, and stretched himself on the green bank, saying, "come, sweet breeze, come and fan me; you know how i love you! you make the groves and my solitary rambles delightful." he was running on in this way when he heard, or thought he heard, a sound as of a sob in the bushes. supposing it some wild animal, he threw hie javelin at the spot. a cry from his beloved procris told him that the weapon had too surely met its mark. he rushed to the place, and found her bleeding and with sinking strength endeavoring to draw forth from the wound the javelin, her own gift. cephalus raised her from the earth, strove to stanch the blood, and called her to revive and not to leave him miserable, to reproach himself with her death. she opened her feeble eyes, and forced herself to utter these few words: "i implore you, if you have ever loved me, if i have ever deserved kindness at your hands, my husband, grant me this last request; do not marry that odious breeze!" this disclosed the whole mystery; but alas! what advantage to disclose it now? she died; but her face wore a calm expression, and she looked pityingly and forgivingly on her husband when he made her understand the truth. in shakespeare's play just quoted, there is an allusion to cephalus and procris, although rather badly spelt. pyramus says, "not shafalus to procrus was so true." thisbe. "as shafalus to procrus, i to you." moore, in his legendary ballads, has one on cephalus and procris, beginning thus:-- "a hunter once in a grove reclined, to shun the noon's bright eye, and oft he wooed the wandering wind to cool his brow with its sigh. while mute lay even the wild bee's hum, nor breath could stir the aspen's hair, his song was still, 'sweet air, o come!' while echo answered, 'come, sweet air!'" chapter iii io and callisto. diana and actaeon. the story of phaeton jupiter and juno, although husband and wife, did not live together very happily. jupiter did not love his wife very much, and juno distrusted her husband, and was always accusing him of unfaithfulness. one day she perceived that it suddenly grew dark, and immediately suspected that her husband had raised a cloud to hide some of his doings that would not bear the light. she brushed away the cloud, and saw her husband, on the banks of a glassy river, with a beautiful heifer standing near him. juno suspected that the heifer's form concealed some fair nymph of mortal mould. this was indeed the case; for it was io, the daughter of the river god inachus, whom jupiter had been flirting with, and, when he became aware of the approach of his wife, had changed into that form. juno joined her husband, and noticing the heifer, praised its beauty, and asked whose it was, and of what herd. jupiter, to stop questions, replied that it was a fresh creation from the earth. juno asked to have it as a gift. what could jupiter do? he was loth to give his mistress to his wife; yet how refuse so trifling a present as a simple heifer? he could not, without arousing suspicion; so he consented. the goddess was not yet relieved of her suspicions; and she delivered the heifer to argus, to be strictly watched. now argus had a hundred eyes in his head, and never went to sleep with more than two at a time, so that he kept watch of io constantly. he suffered her to feed through the day, and at night tied her up with a vile rope round her neck. she would have stretched out her arms to implore freedom of argus, but she had no arms to stretch out, and her voice was a bellow that frightened even herself. she saw her father and her sisters, went near them, and suffered them to pat her back, and heard them admire her beauty. her father reached her a tuft o gras, and she licked the outstretched hand. she longed to make herself known to him, and would have uttered her wish; but, alas! words were wanting. at length she bethought herself of writing, and inscribed her name it was a short one with her hoof on the sand. inachus recognized it, and discovering that his daughter, whom he had long sought in vain, was hidden under this disguise, mourned over her, and, embracing her white neck, exclaimed, "alas! my daughter, it would have been a less grief to have lost you altogether!" while he thus lamented, argus, observing, came and drove her away, and took his seat on a high bank, whence he could see in every direction. jupiter was troubled at beholding the sufferings of his mistress, and calling mercury, told him to go and despatch argus. mercury made haste, put his winged slippers on his feet, and cap on his head, took his sleep-producing wand, and leaped down from the heavenly towers to the earth. there he laid aside his wings, and kept only his wand, with which he presented himself as a shepherd driving his flock. as he strolled on he blew upon his pipes. these were what are called the syrinx or pandean pipes. argus listened with delight, for he had never heard the instrument before. "young man," said he, "come and take a seat by me on this stone. there is no better place for your flock to graze in than hereabouts, and here is a pleasant shade such as shepherds love." mercury sat down, talked, and told stories until it grew late, and played upon his pipes his most soothing strains, hoping to lull the watchful eyes to sleep, but all in vain; for argus still contrived to keep some of his eyes open, though he shut the rest. among other stories, mercury told him how the instrument on which he played was invented. "there was a certain nymph, whose name was syrinx, who was much beloved by the satyrs and spirits of the wood; but she would have none of them, but was a faithful worshipper of diana, and followed the chase. you would have thought it was diana herself, had you seen her in her hunting dress, only that her bow was of horn and diana's of silver. one day, as she was returning from the chase, pan met her, told her just this, and added more of the same sort. she ran away, without stopping to hear his compliments, and he pursued till she came to the bank of the river, where he overtook her, and she had only time to call for help on her friends, the water nymphs. they heard and consented. pan threw his arms around what he supposed to be the form of the nymph, and found he embraced only a tuft of reeds! as he breathed a sigh, the air sounded through the reeds, and produced a plaintive melody. the god, charmed with the novelty and with the sweetness of the music, said 'thus, then, at least, you shall be mine.' and he took some of the reeds, and placing them together, of unequal lengths, side by side, made an instrument which he called syrinx, in honor of the nymph." before mercury had finished his story, he saw argus's eyes all asleep. as his head nodded forward on his breast, mercury with one stroke cut his neck through, and tumbled his head down the rocks. o hapless argus! the light of your hundred eyes is quenched at once! juno took them and put them as ornaments on the tail of her peacock, where they remain to this day. but the vengeance of juno was not yet satiated. she sent a gadfly to torment io, who fled over the whole world from its pursuit. she swam through the ionian sea, which derived its name from her, then roamed over the plains of illyria, ascended mount haemus, and crossed the thracian strait, thence named the bosphorus (cow-bearer), rambled on through scythia and the country of the cimmerians, and arrived at last on the banks of the nile. at length jupiter interceded for her, and, upon his promising not to pay her any more attentions, juno consented to restore her to her form. it was curious to see her gradually recover her former self. the coarse hairs fell from her body, her horns shrunk up, her eyes grew narrower, her mouth shorter; hands and fingers came instead of hoofs to her forefeet; in fine, there was nothing left of the heifer except her beauty. at first she was afraid to speak for fear she should low, but gradually she recovered her confidence, and was restored to her father and sisters. in a poem dedicated to leigh hunt, by keats, the following allusion to the story of pan and syrinx occurs:-- "so did he feel who pulled the boughs aside, that we might look into a forest wide, * * * * * * * * telling us how fair trembling syrinx fled arcadian pan, with such a fearful dread. poor nymph poor pan how he did weep to find nought but a lovely sighing of the wind along the reedy stream; a half-heard strain, full of sweet desolation, balmy pain." callisto callisto was another maiden who excited the jealousy of juno, and the goddess changed her into a bear. "i will take away," said she, :"that beauty with which you have captivated my husband." down fell callisto on her hands and knees; she tried to stretch out her arms in supplication,-- they were already beginning to be covered with black hair. her hands grew rounded, became armed with crooked claws, and served for feet; her mouth, which jove used to praise for its beauty, became a horrid pair of jaws; her voice, which if unchanged would have moved the heart to pity, became a growl, more fit to inspire terror. yet her former disposition remained, and, with continued groaning, she bemoaned her fate, and stood upright as well as she could, lifting up her paws to beg for mercy; and felt that jove was unkind, though she could not tell him so. ah, how often, afraid to stay in the woods all night alone, she wandered about the neighborhood of her former haunts; how often, frightened by the dogs, did she, so lately a huntress, fly in terror from the hunters! often she fled from the wild beasts, forgetting that she was now a wild beast herself; and, bear as she was, was afraid of the bears. one day a youth espied her as he was hunting. she saw him and recognized him as her own son, now grown a young man. she stopped, and felt inclined to embrace him. as she was about to approach, he, alarmed, raised his hunting spear, and was on the point of transfixing her, when jupiter, beholding, arrested the crime, and, snatching away both of them, placed them in the heavens as the great and little bear. juno was in a rage to see her rival so set in honor, and hastened to ancient tethys and oceanus, the powers of ocean, and, in answer to their inquiries, thus told the cause of her coming; "do you ask why i, the queen of the gods, have left the heavenly plains and sought your depths. learn that i am supplanted in heaven,-- my place is given to another. you will hardly believe me; but look when night darkens the world, and you shall see the two, of whom i have so much reason to complain, exalted to the heavens, in that part where the circle is the smallest, in the neighborhood of the pole. why should any one hereafter tremble at the thought of offending juno, when such rewards are the consequence of my displeasure! see what i have been able to effect! i forbade her to wear the human form,-- she is placed among the stars! so do my punishments result,-- such is the extent of my power! better that she should have resumed her former shape, as i permitted io to do. perhaps he means to marry her, and put me away! but you, my foster parents, if you feel for me, and see with displeasure this unworthy treatment of me, show it, i beseech you, by forbidding this guilty couple from coming into your waters." the powers of the ocean assented, and consequently the two constellations of the great and little bear move round and round in heaven, but never sink, as the other stars do, beneath the ocean. milton alludes to the fact that the constellation of the bear never sets, when he says, "let my lamp at midnight hour be seen in some high lonely tower, where i may oft outwatch the bear." il penseroso and prometheus, in james russell lowell's poem, says, "one after one the stars have risen and set, sparkling upon the hoar-frost of my chain; the bear that prowled all night about the fold of the north star, hath shrunk into his den, scared by the blithsome footsteps of the dawn." the last star in the tail of the little bear is the pole star, called also the cynosure. milton says, "straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures while the landscape round it measures. * * * * * * * * towers and battlements it sees bosomed high in tufted trees, where perhaps some beauty lies the cynosure of neighboring eyes." l'allegro. the reference here is both to the pole-star as the guide of mariners, and to the magnetic attraction of the north. he calls it also the "star of aready," because callisto's boy was named arcas, and they lived in arcadia. in milton's comus, the elder brother, benighted in the woods, says, "some gentle taper! through a rush candle, from the wicker hole of some clay habitation, visit us with thy long levelled rule of streaming light, and thou shalt be our star of aready, or tyrian chynsure." diana and actaeon it was midday, and the sun stood equally distant from either goal, when young actaeon, son of king cadmus, thus addressed the youths who with him were hunting the stag in the mountains:-- "friends, our nets and our weapons are wet with the blood of our victims; we have had sport enough for one day, and tomorrow we can renew our labors. now, while phoebus parches the earth, let us put by our instruments and indulge ourselves with rest." there was a valley thickly enclosed with cypresses and pines, sacred to the huntress-queen, diana. in the extremity of the valley was a cave, not adorned with art, but nature had counterfeited art in its construction, for she had turned the arch of its roof with stones as delicately fitted as if by the hand of man. a fountain burst out from one side, whose open basin was bounded by a grassy rim. here the goddess of the woods used to come when weary with hunting and lave her virgin limbs in the sparkling water. one day, having repaired thither with her nymphs, she handed her javelin, her quiver, and her bow to one, her robe to another, while a third unbound the sandals from her feet. then crocale, the most skilful of them, arranged her hair, and nephele, hyale, and the rest drew water in capacious urns. while the goddess was thus employed in the labors of the toilet, behold, actaeon, having quitted his companions, and rambling without any especial object, came to the place, led thither by his destiny. as he presented himself at the entrance of the cave, the nymphs, seeing a man, screamed and rushed towards the goddess to hide her with their bodies. but she was taller than the rest, and overtopped them all by a head. such a color as tinges the clouds at sunset or at dawn came over the countenance of diana thus taken by surprise. surrounded as she was by her nymphs, she yet turned half away, and sought with a sudden impulse for her arrows. as they were not at hand, she dashed the water into the face of the intruder, adding these words: "now go and tell, if you can, that you have seen diana unapparelled." immediately a pair of branching stag's horns grew out of his head, his neck gained in length, his ears grew sharp-pointed, his hands became feet, his arms long legs, his body was covered with a hairy spotted hide. fear took the place of his former boldness, and the hero fled. he could not but admire his own speed; but when he saw his horns in the water, "ah, wretched me!: he would have said, but no sound followed the effort. he groaned, and tears flowed down the face that had taken the place of his own. yet his consciousness remained. what shall he do? go home to seek the palace, or lie hid in the woods? the latter he was afraid, the former he was ashamed, to do. while he hesitated the dogs saw him. first melampus, a spartan dog, gave the signal with his bark, then pamphagus, dorceus, lelaps, theron, nape, tigris, and all the rest, rushed after him swifter than the wind. over rocks and cliffs, through mountain gorges that seemed impracticable, he fled, and they followed. where he had often chased the stag and cheered on his pack, his pack now chased him, cheered on by his own huntsmen. he longed to cry out, "i am actaeon; recognize your master!" but the words came not at his will. the air resounded with the bark of the dogs. presently one fastened on his back, another seized his shoulder. while they held their master, the rest of the pack came up and buried their teeth in his flesh. he groaned, not in a human voice, yet certainly not in a stag's, and, falling on his knees, raised his eyes, and would have raised his arms in supplication, if he had had them. his friends and fellow-huntsmen cheered on the dogs, and looked every where for actaeon, calling on him to join the sport. at the sound of his name, he turned his head, and heard them regret that he should be away. he earnestly wished he was. he would have been well pleased to see the exploits of his dogs, but to feel them was too much. they were all around him, rending and tearing; and it was not till they had torn his life out that the anger of diana was satisfied. in the "epic of hades" there is a description of actaeon and his change of form. perhaps the most beautiful lines in it are when actaeon, changed to a stag, first hears his own hounds and flees. "but as i gazed, and careless turned and passed through the thick wood, forgetting what had been, and thinking thoughts no longer, swift there came a mortal terror; voices that i knew. my own hounds' bayings that i loved before, as with them often o'er the purple hills i chased the flying hart from slope to slope, before the slow sun climbed the eastern peaks, until the swift sun smote the western plain; whom often i had cheered by voice and glance, whom often i had checked with hand and thong; grim followers, like the passions, firing me, true servants, like the strong nerves, urging me on many a fruitless chase, to find and take some too swift-fleeting beauty, faithful feet and tongues, obedient always: these i knew clothed with a new-born force and vaster grown, and stronger than their master; and i thought, what if they tore me with their jaws, nor knew that once i ruled them, brute pursuing brute, and i the quarry? then i turned and fled if it was i indeed that feared and fled down the long glades, and through the tangled brakes, where scarce the sunlight pierced; fled on and on, and panted, self-pursued. but evermore the dissonant music which i knew so sweet, when by the windy hills, the echoing vales and whispering pines it rang; now far, now near as from my rushing steed i leant and cheered with voice and horn the chase; this brought to me fear of i knew not what, which bade me fly, fly always, fly; but when my heart stood still, and all my limbs were stiffened as i fled, just as the white moon ghost-like climbed the sky, nearer they came and nearer, baying loud, with bloodshot eyes and red jaws dripping foam; and when i strove to check their savagery, speaking with words; no voice articulate came, only a dumb, low bleat. then all the throng leapt swift upon me and tore me as i lay, and left me man again." in shelley's poem adonais is the following allusion to the story of actaeon:-- "midst others of less note came one frail form, a phantom among men; companionless as the last cloud of an expiring storm, whose thunder is its knell; he, as i guess, had gazed on nature's naked loveliness, actaeon-like, and now he fled astray with feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness; and his own thoughts, along that rugged way, pursued like raging hounds their father and their prey." adonais, stanza . the allusion is probably to shelley himself. latona and the rustics some thought the goddess in this instance more severe than was just, while others praised her conduct as strictly consistent with her virgin dignity. as usual, the recent event brought older ones to mind, and one of the bystanders told this story. "some countrymen of lycia once insulted the goddess latona, but not with impunity. when i was young, my father, who had grown too old for active labors, sent me to lycia to drive thence some choice oxen, and there i saw the very pond and marsh where the wonder happened. near by stood an ancient altar, black with the smoke of sacrifice and almost buried among the reeds. i inquired whose altar it might be, whether of faunus or the naiads or some god of the neighboring mountain, and one of the country people replied, 'no mountain or river god possesses this altar, but she whom royal juno in her jealousy drove from land to land, denying her any spot of earth whereon to rear her twins. bearing in her arms the infant deities, latona reached this land, weary with her burden and parched with thirst. by chance she espied in the bottom of the valley this pond of clear water, where the country people were at work gathering willows and osiers. the goddess approached, and kneeling on the bank would have slaked her thirst in the cool stream, but the rustics forbade her. 'why do you refuse me water?' said she; 'water is free to all. nature allows no one to claim as property the sunshine, the air, or the water. i come to take my share of the common blessing. yet i ask it of you as a favor. i have no intention of washing my limbs in it, weary though they be, but only to quench my thirst. my mouth is so dry that i can hardly speak. a draught of water would be nectar to me; it would revive me, and i would own myself indebted to you for life itself. let these infants move your pity, who stretch out their little arms as if to plead for me'; and the children, as it happened, were stretching out their arms. "who would not have been moved with these gentle words of the goddess? but these clowns persisted in their rudeness; they even added jeers and threats of violence if she did not leave the place. nor was this all. they waded into the pond and stirred up the mud with their feet, so as to make the water unfit to drink. latona was so angry that she ceased to feel her thirst. she no longer supplicated the clowns, but lifting her hands to heaven exclaimed, 'may they never quit that pool, but pass their lives there!' and it came to pass accordingly. they now live in the water, sometimes totally submerged, then raising their heads above the surface, or swimming upon it. sometimes they come out upon the bank, but soon leap back again into the water. they still use their base voices in railing, and though they have the water all to themselves, are not ashamed to croak in the midst of it. their voices are harsh, their throats bloated, their mouths have become stretched by constant railing, their necks have shrunk up and disappeared, and their heads are joined to their bodies. their backs are green, their disproportioned bellies white, and in short they are now frogs, and dwell in the slimy pool." this story explains the allusion in one of milton's sonnets, "on the detraction which followed upon his writing certain treatises." "i did but prompt the age to quit their clogs by the known laws of ancient liberty,. when straight a barbarous noise environs me of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs. as when those hinds that were transformed to frogs railed at latona's twin-born progeny, which after held the sun and moon in fee." the persecution which latona experienced from juno is alluded to in the story. the tradition was that the future mother of apollo and diana, flying from the wrath of juno, besought all the islands of the aegean to afford her a place of rest, but all feared too much the potent queen of heaven to assist her rival. delos alone consented to become the birthplace of the future deities. delos was then a floating island; but when latona arrived there, jupiter fastened it with adamantine chains to the bottom of the sea, that it might be a secure resting place for his beloved. byron alludes to delos in his don juan:-- "the isles of greece! the isles of greece! where burning sappho loved and sung, where grew the arts of war and peace, where delos rose and phoebus sprung!" phaeton epaphus was the son of jupiter and io. phaeton, child of the sun, was one day boasting to him of his high descent and of his father phoebus. epaphus could not bear it. "foolish fellow," said he "you believe your mother in all things, and you are puffed up by your pride in a false father." phaeton went in rage and shame and reported this to his mother, clymene. "if," said he, "i am indeed of heavenly birth, give me, mother, some proof of it, and establish my claim to the honor." clymene stretched forth her hands towards the skies, and said, "i call to witness the sun which looks down upon us, that i have told you the truth. if i speak falsely, let this be the last time i behold his light. but it needs not much labor to go and inquire for yourself; the land whence the sun rises lies next to ours. go and demand of him whether he will own you as a son" phaeton heard with delight. he travelled to india, which lies directly in the regions of sunrise; and, full of hope and pride, approached the goal whence the sun begins his course. the palace of the sun stood reared aloft on columns, glittering with gold and precious stones, while polished ivory formed the ceilings, and silver the doors. the workmanship surpassed the material; for upon the walls vulcan had represented earth, sea and skies, with their inhabitants. in the sea were the nymphs, some sporting in the waves, some riding on the backs of fishes, while others sat upon the rocks and dried their sea-green hair. their faces were not all alike, nor yet unlike, but such as sisters' ought to be. the earth had its towns and forests and rivers and rustic divinities. over all was carved the likeness of the glorious heaven; and on the silver doors the twelve signs of the zodiac, six on each side. clymene's son advanced up the steep ascent, and entered the halls of his disputed father. he approached the paternal presence, but stopped at a distance, for the light was more than he could bear. phoebus, arrayed in a purple vesture, sat on a throne which glittered as with diamonds. on his right hand and his left stood the day, the month, and the year, and, at regular intervals, the hours. spring stood with her head crowned with flowers, and summer, with garment cast aside, and a garland formed of spears of ripened grain, and autumn, with his feet stained with grape juice, and icy winter, with his hair stiffened with hoar frost. surrounded by these attendants, the sun, with the eye that sees every thing, beheld the youth dazzled with the novelty and splendor of the scene, and inquired the purpose of his errand. the youth replied, "oh, light of the boundless world, phoebus, my father, if you permit me to use that name, give me some proof, i beseech you, by which i may be known as yours." he ceased; and his father, laying aside the beams that shone all around his head, bade him approach, and embracing him, said, "my son, you deserve not to be disowned, and i confirm what your mother has told you. to put an end to your doubts, ask what you will, the gift shall be yours. i call to witness that dreadful lake, which i never saw, but which we gods swear by in our most solemn engagements." phaeton immediately asked to be permitted for one day to drive the chariot of the sun. the father repented of his promise; thrice and four times he shook his radiant head in warning. "i have spoken rashly," said he; "only this request i would fain deny. i beg you to withdraw it. it is not a safe boon, nor one, my phaeton, suited to your youth and strength. your lot is mortal, and you ask what is beyond a mortal's power. in your ignorance you aspire to do that which not even the gods themselves may do. none but myself may drive the flaming car of day; not even jupiter, whose terrible right arm hurls the thunder bolts. the first part of the way is steep, and such as the horses when fresh in the morning can hardly climb; the middle is high up in the heavens, whence i myself can scarcely, without alarm, look down and behold the earth and sea stretched beneath me. the last part of the road descends rapidly, and requires most careful driving. tethys, who is waiting to receive me, often trembles for me lest i should fall headlong. add to all this, the heaven is all the time turning round and carrying the stars with it. i have to be perpetually on my guard lest that movement, which sweeps everything else along, should hurry me also away. suppose i should lend you the chariot, what would you do? could you keep your course while the sphere was revolving under you? perhaps you think that there are forests and cities, the abodes of gods, and palaces and temples on the way. on the contrary, the road is through the midst of frightful monsters. you pass by the horns of the bull, in front of the archer, and near the lion's jaws, and where the scorpion stretches its arms in one direction and the crab in another. nor will you find it easy to guide those horses, with their breasts full of fire which they breathe forth from their mouths and nostrils. i can scarcely govern them myself, when they are unruly and resist the reins. beware, my son, lest i should give you a fatal gift; recall your request while yet you may. do you ask me for proof that you are sprung from my blood? i give you a proof in my fears for you. look at my face,-- i would that you could look into my breast, you would there see all a father's anxiety. finally," he continued, "look round the world and choose whatever you will of what earth or sea contains most precious, ask it and fear no refusal. this only i pray you not to urge. it is not honor, but destruction you seek. why do you hang round my neck and still entreat me? you shall have it if you persist, the oath is sworn and must be kept, but i beg you to choose more wisely." he ended; but the youth rejected all admonition, and held to his demand. so, having resisted as long as he could, phoebus at last led the way to where stood the lofty chariot. it was of gold, the gift of vulcan; the axle was of gold, the pole and wheels of gold, the spokes of silver. along the seat were rows of chrysolites and diamonds, which reflected all around the brightness of the sun. while the daring youth gazed in admiration, the early dawn threw open the purple doors of the east, and showed the pathway strewn with roses. the stars withdrew, marshalled by the daystar, which last of all retired also. the father, when he saw the earth beginning to glow, and the moon preparing to retire, ordered the hours to harness up the horses. they obeyed, and led forth from the lofty stalls the steeds full fed with ambrosia, and attached the reins. then the father bathed the face of his son with a powerful unguent, and made him capable of enduring the brightness of the flame. he set the rays on his head, and, with a foreboding sigh, said, "if, my son, you will in this at least heed my advice, spare the whip and hold tight the reins. they go fast enough of their own accord; the labor is to hold them in. you are not to take the straight road directly between the five circles, but turn off to the left. keep within the limit of the middle zone, and avoid the northern and the southern alike. you will see the marks of the wheels, and they will serve to guide you. and, that the skies and the earth may each receive their due share of heat, go not too high, or you will burn the heavenly dwellings, nor too low, or you will set the earth on fire; the middle course is safest and best. and now i leave you to your chance, which i hope will plan better for you than you have done for yourself. night is passing out of the western gates and we can delay no longer. take the reins; but if at last your heart fails you, and you will benefit by my advice, stay where you are in safety, and suffer me to light and warm the earth." the agile youth sprang into the chariot, stood erect and grasped the reins with delight, pouring out thanks to his reluctant parent. meanwhile the horses fill the air with their snortings and fiery breath, and stamp the ground impatient. now the bars are let down, and the boundless plain of the universe lies open before them. they dart forward and cleave the opposing clouds, and outrun the morning breezes which started from the same eastern goal. the steeds soon perceived that the load they drew was lighter than usual; and as a ship without ballast is tossed hither and thither on the sea, so the chariot, without its accustomed weight, was dashed about as if empty. they rush headlong and leave the travelled road. he is alarmed, and knows not how to guide them; nor, if he knew, has he the power. then, for the first time, the great and little bear were scorched with heat, and would fain, if it were possible, have plunged into the water; and the serpent which lies coiled up round the north pole, torpid and harmless, grew warm, and with warmth felt its rage revive. bootes, they say, fled away, though encumbered with his plough, and all unused to rapid motion. when hapless phaeton looked down upon the earth, now spreading in vast extent beneath him, he grew pale and his knees shook with terror. in spite of the glare all around him, the sight of his eyes grew dim. he wished he had never touched his father's horses, never learned his parentage, never prevailed in his request. he is borne along like a vessel that flies before a tempest, when the pilot can do no more and betakes himself to his prayers. what shall he do? much of the heavenly road is left behind, but more remains before. he turns his eyes from one direction to the other; now to the goal whence he began his course, now to the realms of sunset which he is not destined to reach. he loses his self-command, and knows not what to do, whether to draw tight the reins or throw them loose; he forgets the names of the horses. he sees with terror the monstrous forms scattered over the surface of heaven. here the scorpion extended his two great arms, with his tail and crooked claws stretching over two signs of the zodiac. when the boy beheld him, reeking with poison and menacing with his fangs, his courage failed, and the reins fell from his hands. the horses, feeling the reins loose on their backs, dashed headlong, and unrestrained went off into unknown regions of the sky, in among the stars, hurling the chariot over pathless places, now up in high heaven, now down almost to the earth. the moon saw with astonishment her brother's chariot running beneath her own. the clouds begin to smoke, and the mountain tops take fire; the fields are parched with heat, the plants wither, the trees with their leafy branches burn, the harvest is ablaze! but these are small things. great cities perished, with their walls and towers; whole nations with their people were consumed to ashes! the forest-clad mountains burned, athos and taurus and tmolus and oete; ida, once celebrated for fountains, but now all dry; the muses' mountain helicon, and haemus; aetna, with fires within and without, and parnassus, with his two peaks, and rhodope, forced at last to part with his snowy crown. her cold climate was no protection to scythia, caucasus burned, and ossa and pindus, and, greater than both, olympus; the alps high in air, and the apennines crowned with clouds. then phaeton beheld the world on fire, and felt the heat intolerable. the air he breathed was like the air of a furnace and full of burning ashes, and the smoke was of a pitchy darkness. he dashed forward he knew not whither. then, it is believed, the people of aethiopia became black by the blood being forced so suddenly to the surface, and the libyan desert was dried up to the condition in which it remains to this day. the nymphs of the fountains, with dishevelled hair, mourned their waters, nor were the rivers safe beneath their banks; tanais smoked, and caicus, xanthus and meander. babylonian euphrates and ganges, tagus with golden sands, and caijster where the swans resort. nile fled away and hid his head in the desert, and there it still remains concealed. where he used to discharge his waters through seven mouths into the sea, there seven dry channels alone remained. the earth cracked open, and through the chinks light broke into tartarus, and frightened the king of shadows and his queen. the sea shrank up. where before was water, it became a dry plain; and the mountains that lie beneath the waves lifted up their heads and became islands. the fishes sought the lowest depths, and the dolphins no longer ventured as usual to sport on the surface. even nereus, and his wife doris, with the nereids, their daughters, sought the deepest caves for refuge. thrice neptune essayed to raise his head above the surface and thrice was driven back by the heat. earth, surrounded as she was by waters, yet with head and shoulders bare, screening her face with her hand, looked up to heaven, and with a husky voice called on jupiter. "o ruler of the gods, if i have deserved this treatment, and it is your will that i perish with fire, why withhold your thunderbolts? let me at least fall by your hand. is this the reward of my fertility, of my obedient service? is it for this that i have supplied herbage for cattle, and fruits for men, and frankincense for your altars? but if i am unworthy of regard, what has my brother ocean done to deserve such a fate? if neither of us can excite your pity, think, i pray you, of your own heaven, and behold how both the poles are smoking which sustain your palace, which must fall if they be destroyed. atlas faints, and scarce holds up his burden. if sea, earth, and heaven perish, we fall into ancient chaos. save what yet remains to us from the devouring flame. oh, take thought for our deliverance in this awful moment!" thus spoke earth, and overcome with heat and thirst, could say no more. then jupiter omnipotent, calling to witness all the gods, including him who had lent the chariot, and showing them that all was lost unless some speedy remedy were applied, mounted the lofty tower from whence he diffuses clouds over the earth, and hurls the forked lightnings. but at that time not a cloud was to be found to interpose for a screen to earth, nor was a shower remaining unexhausted. he thundered, and brandishing a lightning-bolt in his right hand launched it against the charioteer, and struck him at the same moment from his seat and from existence! phaeton, with his hair on fire, fell headlong, like a shooting star which marks the heavens with its brightness as it falls, and eridanus, the great river, received him and cooled his burning frame. the italian naiads reared a tomb for him, and inscribed these words upon the stone: "driver of phoebus' chariot, phaeton, struck by jove's thunder, rests beneath this stone. he could not rule his father's car of fire, yet was it much so nobly to aspire." his sisters, the heliades, as they lamented his fate were turned into poplar trees, on the banks of the river, and their tears, which continued to flow, became amber as they dropped into the stream, one of prior's best remembered poems is that on the female phaeton, from which we quote the last verse. kitty has been imploring her mother to allow her to go out into the world as her friends have done, if only for once. "fondness prevailed, mamma gave way; kitty, at heart's desire, obtained the chariot for a day, and set the world on fire." milman, in his poem of samor, makes the following allusion to phaeton's story:-- "as when the palsied universe aghast lay .... mute and still, when drove, so poets sing, the sun-born youth devious through heaven's affrighted signs his sire's ill-granted chariot. him the thunderer hurled from th'empyrean headlong to the gulf of the half-parched eridanus, where weep even now the sister trees their amber tears o 'er phaeton untimely dead." in the beautiful lines of walter savage lando describing the sea- shell, there is an allusion to the sun's palace and chariot. the water-nymph says, "i have sinuous shells of pearly hue within, and things that lustre have imbibed in the sun's palace porch, where when unyoked his chariot-wheel stands midway in the wave. shake one and it awakens; then apply its polished lip to your attentive car, and it remembers its august abodes, and murmurs as the ocean murmurs there." gebir, book chapter iv midas. baucis and philemon. pluto and proserpine. bacchus, on a certain occasion, found his old school master and foster father, silenus, missing. the old man had been drinking, and in that state had wandered away, and was found by some peasants, who carried him to their king, midas. midas recognized him, and treated him hospitably, entertaining him for ten days and nights with an unceasing round of jollity. on the eleventh day he brought silenus back, and restored him in safety to his pupil. whereupon bacchus offered midas his choice of whatever reward he might wish. he asked that whatever he might touch should be changed into gold. bacchus consented, though sorry that he had not made a better choice. midas went his way, rejoicing in his newly acquired power, which he hastened to put to the test. he could scarce believe his eyes when he found that a twig of an oak, which he plucked from the branch, became gold in his hand. he took up a stone it changed to gold. he touched a sod it did the same. he took an apple from the tree you would have thought he had robbed the garden of the hesperides. his joy knew no bounds, and as soon as he got home, he ordered the servants to set a splendid repast on the table. then he found to his dismay that whether he touched bread, it hardened in his hand; or put a morsel to his lips, it defied his teeth. he took a glass of wine, but it flowed down his throat like melted gold. in consternation at the unprecedented affliction, he strove to divest himself of his power; he hated the gift he had lately coveted. but all in vain; starvation seemed to await him. he raised his arms, all shining with gold, in prayer to bacchus, begging to be delivered from his glittering destruction. bacchus, merciful deity, heard and consented. "go," said he, "to the river pactolus, trace the stream to its fountain-head, there plunge in your head and body and wash away your fault and its punishment." he did so, and scarce had he touched the waters before the gold-creating power passed into them, and the river sands became changed into gold, as they remain to this day. thenceforth midas, hating wealth and splendor, dwelt in the country, and became a worshipper of pan, the god of the fields. on a certain occasion pan had the temerity to compare his music with that of apollo, and to challenge the god of the lyre to a trial of skill. the challenge was accepted, and tmolus, the mountain-god, was chosen umpire. tmolus took his seat and cleared away the trees from his ears to listen. at a given signal pan blew on his pipes, and with his rustic melody gave great satisfaction to himself and his faithful follower, midas, who happened to be present. then tmolus turned his head toward the sun-god, and all his trees turned with him. apollo rose, his brow wreathed with parnassian laurel, while his robe of tyrian purple swept the ground. in his left hand he held the lyre, and with his right hand struck the strings. ravished with the harmony, tmolus at once awarded the victory to the god of the lyre, and all but midas acquiesced in the judgment. he dissented, and questioned the justice of the award. apollo would not suffer such a depraved pair of ears any longer to wear the human form, but caused them to increase in length, grow hairy, within and without, and to become movable, on their roots; in short, to be on the perfect pattern of those of an ass. mortified enough was king midas at this mishap; but he consoled himself with the thought that it was possible to hide his misfortune, which he attempted to do by means of an ample turban or headdress. but his hairdresser of course knew the secret. he was charged not to mention it, and threatened with dire punishment if he presumed to disobey. but he found it too much for his discretion to keep such a secret; so he went out into the meadow, dug a hole in the ground, and stooping down, whispered the story, and covered it up. before long a thick bed of reeds sprang up in the meadow, and as soon as it had gained its growth, began whispering the story, and has continued to do so, from that day to this, with every breeze which passes over the place. the story of king midas has been told by others with some variations. dryden, in the wife of bath's tale, makes midas' queen the betrayer of the secret. "this midas knew, and durst communicate to none but to his wife his ears of state." midas was king of phrygia. he was the son of gordius, a poor countryman, who was taken by the people and made king, in obedience to the command of the oracle, which had said that their future king should come in a wagon. while the people were deliberating, gordius with his wife and son came driving his wagon into the public square. gordius, being made king, dedicated his wagon to the deity of the oracle, and tied it up in its place with a fast knot. this was the celebrated gordian knot, of which, in after times it was said, that whoever should untie it should become lord of all asia. many tried to untie it, but none succeeded, till alexander the great, in his career of conquest, came to phrygia. he tried his skill with as ill success as the others, till growing impatient he drew his sword and cut the knot. when he afterwards succeeded in subjecting all asia to his sway, people began to think that he had complied with the terms of the oracle according to its true meaning. baucis and philemon on a certain hill in phrygia stand a linden tree and an oak, enclosed by a low wall. not far from the spot is a marsh, formerly good habitable land, but now indented with pools, the resort of fen-birds and cormorants. once on a time, jupiter, in human shape, visited this country, and with him his son mercury (he of the caduceus), without his wings. they presented themselves at many a door as weary travellers, seeking rest and shelter, but found all closed, for it was late, and the inhospitable inhabitants would not rouse themselves to open for their reception. at last a humble mansion received them, a small thatched cottage, where baucis, a pious old dame, and her husband philemon, united when young, had grown old together. not ashamed of their poverty, they made it endurable by moderate desires and kind dispositions. one need not look there for master or for servant; they two were the whole household, master and servant alike. when the two heavenly guests crossed the humble threshold, and bowed their heads to pass under the low door, the old man placed a seat, on which baucis, bustling and attentive, spread a cloth, and begged them to sit down. then she raked out the coals from the ashes, kindled up a fire, and fed it with leaves and dry bark, and with her scanty breath blew it into a flame. she brought out of a corner split sticks and dry branches, broke them up, and placed them under the small kettle. her husband collected some pot-herbs in the garden, and she shred them from the stalks, and prepared them for the pot he reached down with a forked stick a flitch of bacon hanging in the chimney, cut a small piece, and put it in the pot to boil with the herbs, setting away the rest for another time. a beechen bowl was filled with warm water that their guests might wash. while all was doing they beguiled the time with conversation. on the bench designed for the guests was laid a cushion stuffed with sea-weed; and a cloth, only produced on great occasions, but old and coarse enough, was spread over that. the old woman, with her apron on, with trembling hand set the table. one leg was shorter than the rest, but a shell put under restored the level. when fixed, she rubbed the table down with some sweet-smelling herbs. upon it she set some olives, minerva's-fruit, some cornel-berries preserved in vinegar, and added radishes and cheese, with eggs lightly cooked in the ashes. all were served in earthen dishes, and an earthenware pitcher, with wooden cups, stood beside them. when all was ready, the stew, smoking hot, was set on the table. some wine, not of the oldest, was added; and for dessert, apples and wild honey; and over and above all, friendly faces, and simple but hearty welcome. now while the repast proceeded, the old folks were astonished to see that the wine, as fast as it was poured out, renewed itself in the pitcher, of its own accord. struck with terror, baucis and philemon recognized their heavenly guests, fell on their knees, and with clasped hands implored forgiveness for their poor entertainment. there was an old goose, which they kept as the guardian of their humble cottage; and they bethought them to make this a sacrifice in honor of their guests. but the goose, too nimble for the old folks, eluded their pursuit with the aid of feet and wings, and at last took shelter between the gods themselves. they forbade it to be slain; and spoke in these words: "we are gods. this inhospitable village shall pay the penalty of its impiety; you alone shall go free from the chastisement. quit your house, and come with us to the top of yonder hill." they hastened to obey, and staff in hand, labored up the steep ascent. they had come within an arrow's flight of the top, when turning their eyes below, they beheld all the country sunk in a lake, only their own house left standing. while they gazed with wonder at the sight, and lamented the fate of their neighbors, that old house of theirs was changed into a temple. columns took the place of the corner-posts, the thatch grew yellow and appeared a gilded roof, the floors became marble, the doors were enriched with carving and ornaments of gold. then spoke jupiter in benignant accents: "excellent old man, and woman worthy of such a husband, speak, tell us your wishes; what favor have you to ask of us?" philemon took counsel with baucis a few moments; then declared to the gods their united wish. "we ask to be priests and guardians of this your temple; and since here we have passed our lives in love and concord, we wish that one and the same hour may take us both from life, that i may not live to see her grave, nor be laid in my own by her." their prayer was granted. they were the keepers of the temple as long as they lived. when grown very old, as they stood one day before the steps of the sacred edifice, and were telling the story of the place, baucis saw philemon begin to put forth leaves, and old philemon saw baucis changing in like manner. and now a leafy crown had grown over their heads, while exchanging parting words, as long as they could speak. "farewell, dear spouse," they said, together, and at the same moment the bark closed over their mouths. the tyanean shepherd long showed the two trees, standing side by side, made out of the two good old people. the story of baucis and philemon has been imitated by swift, in a burlesque style, the actors in the change being two wandering saints and the house being changed into a church, of which philemon is made the parson the following may serve as a specimen:-- "they scarce had spoke when, fair and soft, the roof began to mount aloft; aloft rose every beam and rafter; the heavy wall climbed slowly after. the chimney widened and grew higher, became a steeple with a spire. the kettle to the top was hoist, and there stood fastened to a joist, but with the upside down, to show its inclination for below; in vain, for a superior force, applied at bottom, stops its course; doomed ever in suspense to dwell, 'tis now no kettle, but a bell. a wooden jack, which had almost lost by disuse the art to roast, a sudden alteration feels, increased by new intestine wheels; and, what exalts the wonder more, the number made the motion slower; the flier, though 't had leaden feet, turned round so quick you scarce could see 't: but slackened by some secret power, now hardly moves an inch an hour. the jack and chimney, near allied, had never left each other's side. the chimney to a steeple grown, the jack would not be left alone; but up against the steeple reared, became a clock, and still adhered; and still its love to household cares by a shrill voice at noon declares. warning the cook-maid not to burn that roast meat which it cannot turn. the groaning chair began to crawl, like a huge snail, along the wall; there stuck aloft in public view, and, with small change, a pulpit grew. a bedstead of the antique mode, compact of timber many a load, such as our ancestors did use, was metamorphosed into pews, which still their ancient nature keep by lodging folks disposed to sleep." proserpine under the island of aetna lies typhoeus the titan, in punishment for his share in the rebellion of the giants against jupiter. two mountains press down the one his right and the other his left hand while aetna lies over his head. as typhoeus moves, the earth shakes; as he breathes, smoke and ashes come up from aetna. pluto is terrified at the rocking of the earth, and fears that his kingdom will be laid open to the light of day. he mounts his chariot with the four black horses and comes up to earth and looks around. while he is thus engaged, venus, sitting on mount eryx playing with her boy cupid, sees him and says: "my son, take your darts with which you conquer all, even jove himself, and send one into the breast of yonder dark monarch, who rules the realm of tartarus. why should he alone escape? seize the opportunity to extend your empire and mine. do you not see that even in heaven some despise our power? minerva the wise, and diana the huntress, defy us; and there is that daughter of ceres, who threatens to follow their example. now do you, if you have any regard for your own interest or mine, join these two in one." the boy unbound his quiver, and selected his sharpest and truest arrow; then, straining the bow against his knee, he attached the string, and, having made ready, shot the arrow with its barbed point right into the heart of pluto. in the vale of enna there is a lake embowered in woods, which screen it from the fervid rays of the sun, while the moist ground is covered with flowers, and spring reigns perpetual. here proserpine was playing with her companions, gathering lilies and violets, and filling her basket and her apron with them, when pluto saw her from his chariot, loved her, and carried her off. she screamed for help to her mother and her companions; and when in her fright she dropped the corners of her apron and let the flowers fall, childlike, she felt the loss of them as an addition to her grief. the ravisher urged on his steeds, calling them each by name, and throwing loose over their heads and necks his iron-colored reins. when he reached the river cyane, and it opposed his passage, he struck the river bank with his trident, and the earth opened and gave him a passage to tartarus. ceres sought her daughter all the world over. bright-haired aurora, when she came forth in the morning, and hesperus, when he led out the stars in the evening, found her still busy in the search. but it was all unavailing. at length, weary and sad, she sat down upon a stone and continued sitting nine days and nights, in the open air, under the sunlight and moonlight and falling showers. it was where now stands the city of eleusis, then the home of an old man named celeus. he was out in the field, gathering acorns and blackberries, and sticks for his fire. his little girl was driving home their two goats, and as she passed the goddess, who appeared in the guise of an old woman, she said to her, "mother," and the name was sweet to the ears of ceres, "why do you sit here alone upon the rocks?" the old man also stopped, though his load was heavy, and begged her to come into his cottage, such as it was. she declined, and he urged her. "go in peace," she replied, "and be happy in your daughter; i have lost mine." as she spoke, tears or something like tears, for the gods never weep fell down her cheeks upon her bosom. the compassionate old man and his child wept with her. then said he, "come with us, and despise not our humble roof; so may your daughter be restored to you in safety." "lead on," said she, "i cannot resist that appeal!" so she rose from the stone and went with them. as they walked he told her that his only son, a little boy, lay very sick, feverish and sleepless. she stooped and gathered some poppies. as they entered the cottage they found all in great distress, for the boy seemed past hope of recovery. metanira, his mother, received her kindly, and the goddess stooped and kissed the lips of the sick child. instantly the paleness left his face, and healthy vigor returned to his body. the whole family were delighted that is, the father, mother, and little girl, for they were all; they had no servants. they spread the table, and put upon it curds and cream, apples, and honey in the comb. while they ate, ceres mingled poppy juice in the milk of the boy. when night came and all was still, she arose, and taking the sleeping boy, moulded his limbs with her hands, and uttered over him three times a solemn charm, then went and laid him in the ashes. his mother, who had been watching what her guest was doing, sprang forward with a cry and snatched the child from the fire. then ceres assumed her own form, and a divine splendor shone all around. while they were overcome with astonishment, she said, "mother, you have been cruel in your fondness to your son. i would have made him immortal, but you have frustrated my attempt. nevertheless, he shall be great and useful. he shall teach men the use of the plough, and the rewards which labor can win from the cultivated soil." so saying, she wrapped a cloud about her, and mounting her chariot rode away. ceres continued her search for her daughter, passing from land to land, and across seas and rivers, till at length she returned to sicily, whence she at first set out, and stood by the banks of the river cyane, where pluto made himself a passage with his prize to his own dominions. the river-nymph would have told the goddess all she had witnessed, but dared not, for fear of pluto; so she only ventured to take up the girdle which proserpine had dropped in her flight, and waft it to the feet of the mother. ceres, seeing this, was no longer in doubt of her loss, but she did not yet know the cause, and laid the blame on the innocent land. "ungrateful soil," said she, "which i have endowed with fertility and clothed with herbage and nourishing grain, no more shall you enjoy my favors" then the cattle died, the plough broke in the furrow, the seed failed to come up; there was too much sun, there was too much rain; the birds stole the seeds, thistles and brambles were the only growth. seeing this, the fountain arethusa interceded for the land. "goddess," said she, "blame not the land; it opened unwillingly to yield a passage to your daughter. i can tell you of her fate, for i have seen her. this is not my native country; i came hither from elis. i was a woodland nymph, and delighted in the chase. they praised my beauty, but i cared nothing for it, and rather boasted of my hunting exploits. one day i was returning from the wood, heated with exercise, when i came to a stream silently flowing, so clear that you might count the pebbles on the bottom. the willows shaded it, and the grassy bank sloped down to the water's edge. i approached, i touched the water with my foot. i stepped in knee-deep, and not content with that, i laid my garments on the willows and went in. while i sported in the water, i heard an indistinct murmur coming up as out of the depths of the stream; and made haste to escape to the nearest bank. the voice said, 'why do you fly, arethusa? i am alpheus, the god of this stream.' i ran, he pursued; he was not more swift than i, but he was stronger, and gained upon me, as my strength failed. at last, exhausted, i cried for help to diana. 'help me, goddess! help your votary!' the goddess heard, and wrapped me suddenly in a thick cloud. the river-god looked now this way and now that, and twice came close to me, but could not find me. 'arethusa! arethusa!' he cried. oh, how i trembled, like a lamb that hears the wolf growling outside the fold. a cold sweat came over me, my hair flowed down in streams; where my foot stood there was a pool. in short, in less time than it takes to tell it i became a fountain. but in this form alpheus knew me, and attempted to mingle his stream with mine. diana cleft the ground, and i, endeavoring to escape him, plunged into the cavern, and through the bowels of the earth came out here in sicily. while i passed through the lower parts of the earth, i saw your proserpine. she was sad, but no longer showing alarm in her countenance. her look was such as became a queen, the queen of erebus; the powerful bride of the monarch of the realms of the dead." when ceres heard this, she stood for a while like one stupefied; then turned her chariot towards heaven, and hastened to present herself before the throne of jove. she told the story of her bereavement, and implored jupiter to interfere to procure the restitution of her daughter. jupiter consented on one condition, namely, that proserpine should not during her stay in the lower world have taken any food; otherwise, the fates forbade her release. accordingly, mercury was sent, accompanied by spring, to demand proserpine of pluto. the wily monarch consented; but alas! the maiden had taken a pomegranate which pluto offered her, and had sucked the sweet pulp from a few of the seeds. this was enough to prevent her complete release; but a compromise was made, by which she was to pass half the time with her mother, and the rest with her husband pluto. ceres allowed herself to be pacified with this arrangement, and restored the earth to her favor. now she remembered celeus and his family, and her promise to his infant son triptolemus. when the boy grew up, she taught him the use of the plough, and how to sow the seed. she took him in her chariot, drawn by winged dragons, through all the countries of the earth, imparting to mankind valuable grains, and the knowledge of agriculture. after his return, triptolemus build a magnificent temple to ceres in eleusis, and established the worship of the goddess, under the name of the eleusinian mysteries, which, in the splendor and solemnity of their observance, surpassed all other religious celebrations among the greeks. there can be little doubt but that this story of ceres and proserpine is an allegory. proserpine signifies the seed-corn, which, when cast into the ground, lies there concealed, that is, she is carried off by the god of the underworld; it reappears, that is, proserpine is restored to her mother. spring leads her back to the light of day. milton alludes to the story of proserpine in paradise lost, book iv.: "not that fair field of enna where proserpine gathering flowers, herself a fairer flower, by gloomy dis (a name for pluto) was gathered, which cost ceres all that pain to seek her through the world, . . . . might with this paradise of eden strive." hood, in his ode to melancholy, uses the same allusion very beautifully: "forgive, if somewhile i forget, in woe to come the present bliss; as frightened proserpine let fall her flowers at the sight of dis." the river alpheus does in fact disappear under ground, in part of its course, finding its way through subterranean channels, till it again appears on the surface. it was said that the sicilian fountain arethusa was the same stream, which, after passing under the sea, came up again in sicily. hence the story ran that a cup thrown into the alpheus appeared again in arethusa. it is this fable of the underground course of alpheus that coleridge alludes to in his poem of kubla khan: "in xanadu did kubla khan a stately pleasure-dome decree, where alph, the sacred river, ran through caverns measureless to man, down to a sunless sea." in one of moore's juvenile poems he alludes to the same story, and to the practice of throwing garlands, or other light objects on the stream to be carried downward by it, and afterwards thrown out when the river comes again to light. "oh, my beloved, how divinely sweet is the pure joy when kindred spirits meet! like him the river-god, whose waters flow, with love their only light, through caves below, wafting in triumph all the flowery braids and festal rings, with which olympic maids have decked his current, as an offering meet to lay at arethusa's shining feet. think, when he meets at last his fountain bride, what perfect love must thrill the blended tide! each lost in each, till mingling into one, their lot the same for shadow or for sun, a type of true love, to the deep they run." the following extract from moore's rhymes on the road gives an account of a celebrated picture by albano at milan, called a dance of loves: "'tis for the theft of enna's flower from earth these urchins celebrate their dance of mirth, round the green tree, like fays upon a heath, those that are nearest linked in order bright, cheek after cheek, like rosebuds in a wreath; and those more distant showing from beneath the others' wings their little eyes of light. while see! among the clouds, their eldest brother, but just flown up, tells with a smile of bliss, this prank of pluto to his charmed mother, who turns to greet the tidings with a kiss." glaucus and scylla glaucus was a fisherman. one day he had drawn his nets to land, and had taken a great many fishes of various kinds. so he emptied his net, and proceeded to sort the fishes on the grass. the place where he stood was a beautiful island in the river, a solitary spot, uninhabited, and not used for pasturage of cattle, nor ever visited by any but himself. on a sudden, the fishes, which had been laid on the grass, began to revive and move their fins as if they were in the water; and while he looked on astonished, they one and all moved off to the water, plunged in and swam away. he did not know what to make of this, whether some god had done it, or some secret power in the herbage. "what herb has such a power?" he exclaimed; and gathering some, he tasted it. scarce had the juices of the plant reached his palate when he found himself agitated with a longing desire for the water. he could no longer restrain himself, but bidding farewell to earth, he plunged into the stream. the gods of the water received him graciously, and admitted him to the honor of their society. they obtained the consent of oceanus and tethys, the sovereigns of the sea, that all that was mortal in him should be washed away. a hundred rivers poured their waters over him . then he lost all sense of his former nature and all consciousness. when he recovered, he found himself changed in form and mind. his hair was sea-green, and trailed behind him on the water; his shoulders grew broad, and what had been thighs and legs assumed the form of a fish's tail. the sea-gods complimented him on the change of his appearance, and he himself was pleased with his looks. one day glaucus saw the beautiful maiden scylla, the favorite of the water-nymphs, rambling on the shore, and when she had found a sheltered nook, laving her limbs in the clear water. he fell in love with her, and showing himself on the surface, spoke to her, saying such things as he thought most likely to win her to stay; for she turned to run immediately on sight of him and ran till she had gained a cliff overlooking the sea. here she stopped and turned round to see whether it was a god or a sea-animal, and observed with wonder his shape and color. glaucus, partly emerging from the water, and supporting himself against a rock, said, "maiden, i am no monster, nor a sea-animal, but a god; and neither proteus nor triton ranks higher than i. once i was a mortal, and followed the sea for a living; but now i belong wholly to it." then he told the story of his metamorphosis and how he had been promoted to his present dignity, and added, "but what avails all this if it fails to move your heart?" he was going on in this strain, but scylla turned and hastened away. glaucus was in despair, but it occurred to him to consult the enchantress, circe. accordingly he repaired to her island, the same where afterwards ulysses landed, as we shall see in another story. after mutual salutations, he said, "goddess, i entreat your pity; you alone can relieve the pain i suffer. the power of herbs i know as well as any one, for it is to them i owe my change of form i love scylla. i am ashamed to tell you how i have sued and promised to her, and how scornfully she has treated me. i beseech you to use your incantations, or potent herbs, if they are more prevailing, not to cure me of my love, for that i do not wish, but to make her share it and yield me a like return." to which circe replied, for she was not insensible to the attractions of the sea-green deity, "you had better pursue a willing object; you are worthy to be sought, instead of having to seek in vain. be not diffident, know your own worth. i protest to you that even i, goddess though i be, and learned in the virtues of plants and spells, should not know how to refuse you if she scorns you, scorn her; meet one who is ready to meet you half way, and thus make a due return to both at once." to these words glaucus replied, "sooner shall trees grow at the bottom of the ocean, and seaweed on the top of the mountains, than i will cease to love scylla, and her alone." the goddess was indignant, but she could not punish him, neither did she wish to do so, for she liked him too well; so she turned all her wrath against her rival, poor scylla. she took plants of poisonous powers and mixed them together, with incantations and charms. then she passed through the crowd of gambolling beasts, the victims of her art, and proceeded to the coast of sicily, where scylla lived. there was a little bay on the shore to which scylla used to resort, in the heat of the day, to breathe the air of the sea, and to bathe in its waters. here the goddess poured her poisonous mixture, and muttered over it incantations of mighty power. scylla came as usual and plunged into the water up to her waist. what was her horror to perceive a brood of serpents and barking monsters surrounding her! at first she could not imagine they were a part of herself, and tried to run from them, and to drive them away; but as she ran she carried them with her, and when she tried to touch her limbs, she found her hands touch only the yawning jaws of monsters. scylla remained rooted to the spot. her temper grew as ugly as her form, and she took pleasure in devouring hapless mariners who came within her grasp. thus she destroyed six of the companions of ulysses, and tried to wreck the ships of aeneas, till at last she was turned into a rock, and as such still continues to be a terror to mariners. the following is glaucus's account of his feelings after his "sea-change:" "i plunged for life or death. to interknit one's senses with so dense a breathing stuff might seem a work of pain; so not enough can i admire how crystal-smooth it felt, and buoyant round my limbs. at first i dwelt whole days and days in sheer astonishment; forgetful utterly of self- ntent, moving but with the mighty ebb and flow. then like a new-fledged bird that first doth show his spreaded feathers to the morrow chill, i tried in fear the pinions of my well. "twas freedom! and at once i visited the ceaseless wonders of this ocean-bed." keats. chapter v pygmalion. dryope. venus and adonis. apollo and hyacinthus. ceyx and halcyone. pygmalion saw so much to blame in women that he came at last to abhor the sex, and resolved to live unmarried. he was a sculptor, and had made with wonderful skill a statue of ivory, so beautiful that no living woman could be compared to it in beauty. it was indeed the perfect semblance of a maiden that seemed to be alive, and only prevented from moving by modesty. his art was so perfect that it concealed itself, and its product looked like the workmanship of nature. pygmalion admired his own work, and at last fell in love with the counterfeit creation. oftentimes he laid his hand upon it, as if to assure himself whether it were living or not, and could not even then believe that it was only ivory. he caressed it, and gave it presents such as young girls love, bright shells and polished stones, little birds and flowers of various hues, beads and amber. he put raiment on its limbs, and jewels on its fingers, and a necklace about its neck. to the ears he hung earrings and strings of pearls upon the breast. her dress became her, and she looked not less charming than when unattired. he laid her on a couch spread with cloths of tyrian dye, and called her his wife, and put her head upon a pillow of the softest feathers, as if she could enjoy their softness. the festival of venus was at hand, a festival celebrated with great pomp at cyprus. victims were offered, the altars smoked, and the odor of incense filled the air. when pygmalion had performed his part in the solemnities, he stood before the altar and timidly said, "ye gods, who can do all things, give me, i pray you, for my wife" he dared not say "my ivory virgin," but said instead "one like my ivory virgin." venus, who was present at the festival, heard him and knew the thought he would have uttered; and, as an omen of her favor, caused the flame on the altar to shoot up thrice in a fiery point into the air. when he returned home, he went to see his statue, and, leaning over the couch, gave a kiss to the mouth. it seemed to be warm. he pressed its lips again, he laid his hand upon the limbs; the ivory felt soft to his touch, and yielded to his fingers like the wax of hymettus. while he stands astonished and glad, though doubting, and fears he may be mistaken, again and again with a lover's ardor he touches the object of his hopes. it was indeed alive! the veins when pressed yielded to the finger and then resumed their roundness. then at last the votary of venus found words to thank the goddess, and pressed his lips upon lips as real as his own. the virgin felt the kisses and blushed, and, opening her timid eyes to the light, fixed them at the same moment on her lover. venus blessed the nuptials she had formed, and from this union paphos was born, from whom the city, sacred to venus, received its name. schiller, in his poem, the ideals, applies this tale of pygmalion to the love of nature in a youthful heart. in schiller's version, as in william morris's, the statue is of marble. "as once with prayers in passion flowing, pygmalion embraced the stone, till from the frozen marble glowing, the light of feeling o'er him shone, so did i clasp with young devotion bright nature to a poet's heart; till breath and warmth and vital motion seemed through the statue form to dart. "and then in all my ardor sharing, the silent form expression found; returned my kiss of youthful daring, and understood my heart's quick sound. then lived for me the bright creation. the silver rill with song was rife; the trees, the roses shared sensation, an echo of my boundless life." rev. a. g. bulfinch (brother of the author). morris tells the story of pygmalion and the image in some of the most beautiful verses of the earthly paradise. this is galatea's description of her metamorphosis: "'my sweet,' she said, 'as yet i am not wise, or stored with words aright the tale to tell, but listen: when i opened first mine eyes i stood within the niche thou knowest well, and from my hand a heavy thing there fell carved like these flowers, nor could i see things clear, but with a strange confused noise could hear. "'at last mine eyes could see a woman fair, but awful as this round white moon o'erhead, so that i trembled when i saw her there, for with my life was born some touch of dread, and therewithal i heard her voice that said, "come down and learn to love and be alive, for thee, a well-prized gift, today i give."'" dryope dryope and iole were sisters. the former was the wife of andraemon, beloved by her husband, and happy in the birth of her first child. one day the sisters strolled to the bank of a stream that sloped gradually down to the water's edge, while the upland was overgrown with myrtles. they were intending to gather flowers for forming garlands for the altars of the nymphs, and dryope carried her child at her bosom, a precious burden, and nursed him as she walked. near the water grew a lotus plant, full of purple flowers. dryope gathered some and offered them to the baby, and iole was about to do the same, when she perceived blood dropping from the places where her sister had broken them off the stem. the plant was no other than the nymph lotis, who, running from a base pursuer, had been changed into this form. this they learned from the country people when it was too late. dryope, horror-struck when she perceived what she had done, would gladly have hastened from the spot, but found her feet rooted to the ground. she tried to pull them away, but moved nothing but her arms. the woodiness crept upward, and by degrees invested her body. in anguish she attempted to tear her hair, but found her hands filled with leaves. the infant felt his mother's bosom begin to harden, and the milk cease to flow. iole looked on at the sad fate of her sister, and could render no assistance. she embraced the growing trunk, as if she would hold back the advancing wood, and would gladly have been enveloped in the same bark. at this moment andraemon, the husband of dryope, with her father, approached; and when they asked for dryope, iole pointed them to the new-formed lotus. they embraced the trunk of the yet warm tree, and showered their kisses on its leaves. now there was nothing left of dryope but her face. her tears still flowed and fell on her leaves, and while she could she spoke. "i am not guilty. i deserve not this fate. i have injured no one. if i speak falsely, may my foliage perish with drought and my trunk be cut down and burned. take this infant and give him to a nurse. let him often be brought and nursed under my branches, and play in my shade; and when he is old enough to talk, let him be taught to call me mother, and to say with sadness, 'my mother lies hid under this bark' but bid him be careful of river banks, and beware how he plucks flowers, remembering that every bush he sees may be a goddess in disguise. farewell, dear husband, and sister, and father. if you retain any love for me, let not the axe wound me, nor the flocks bite and tear my branches. since i cannot stoop to you, climb up hither and kiss me; and while my lips continue to feel, lift up my child that i may kiss him. i can speak no more, for already the bark advances up my neck, and will soon shoot over me. you need not close my eyes; the bark will close them without your aid." then the lips ceased to move, and life was extinct; but the branches retained, for some time longer the vital heat. keats, in endymion, alludes to dryope thus: "she took a lute from which there pulsing came a lively prelude, fashioning the way in which her voice should wander. 'twas a lay more subtle-cadenced, more forest-wild than dryope's lone lulling of her child." venus and adonis venus, playing one day with her boy cupid, wounded her bosom with one of his arrows. she pushed him away, but the wound was deeper than she thought. before it healed she beheld adonis, and was captivated with him. she no longer took any interest in her favorite resorts, paphos, and cnidos, and amathos, rich in metals. she absented herself even from olympus, for adonis was dearer to her than heaven. him she followed and bore him company. she who used to love to recline in the shade, with no care but to cultivate her charms, now rambled through the woods and over the hills, dressed like the huntress diana. she called her dogs, and chased hares and stags, or other game that it is safe to hunt, but kept clear of the wolves and bears, reeking with the slaughter of the herd. she charged adonis, too, to beware of such dangerous animals. "be brave towards the timid," said she; "courage against the courageous is not safe. beware how you expose yourself to danger, and put my happiness to risk. attack not the beasts that nature has armed with weapons. i do not value your glory so highly as to consent to purchase it by such exposure. your youth, and the beauty that charms venus, will not touch the hearts of lions and bristly boars. think of their terrible claws and prodigious strength! i hate the whole race of them. do you ask why?" then she told him the story of atalanta and hippomenes, who were changed into lions for their ingratitude to her. having given him this warning, she mounted her chariot drawn by swans, and drove away through the air. but adonis was too noble to heed such counsels. the dogs had roused a wild boar from his lair, and the youth threw his spear and wounded the animal with a sidelong stroke. the beast drew out the weapon with his jaws, and rushed after adonis, who turned and ran; but the boar overtook him, and buried his tusks in his side, and stretched him dying upon the plain. venus, in her swan-drawn chariot, had not yet reached cyprus, when she heard coming up through mid air the groans of her beloved, and turned her white-winged coursers back to earth. as she drew near and saw from on high his lifeless body bathed in blood, she alighted, and bending over it beat her breast and tore her hair. reproaching the fates, she said, "yet theirs shall be but a partial triumph; memorials of my grief shall endure, and the spectacle of your death, my adonis, and of my lamentation shall be annually renewed. your blood shall be changed into a flower; that consolation none can envy me." thus speaking, she sprinkled nectar on the blood; and as they mingled, bubbles rose as in a pool on which raindrops fall, and in an hour's time there sprang up a flower of bloody hue like that of a pomegranate. but it is short-lived. it is said the wind blows the blossoms open, and afterwards blows the petals away; so it is called anemone, or wind flower, from the cause which assists equally in its production and its decay. milton alludes to the story of venus and adonis in his comus: "beds of hyacinth and roses where young adonis oft reposes, waxing well of his deep wound in slumber soft, and on the ground sadly sits th'assyrian queen." and morris also in atalanta's race: "there by his horn the dryads well might know his thrust against the bear's heart had been true, and there adonis bane his javelin slew" apollo and hyacinthus apollo was passionately fond of a youth named hyacinthus. he accompanied him in his sports, carried the nets when he went fishing, led the dogs when he went to hunt, followed him in his excursions in the mountains, and neglected for him his lyre and his arrows. one day they played a game of quoits together, and apollo, heaving aloft the discus, with strength mingled with skill, sent it high and far. hyacinthus watched it as it flew, and excited with the sport ran forward to seize it, eager to make his throw, when the quoit bounded from the earth and struck him in the forehead. he fainted and fell. the god, as pale as himself, raised him and tried all his art to stanch the wound and retain the flitting life, but all in vain; the hurt was past the power of medicine. as, when one has broken the stem of a lily in the garden, it hangs its head and turns its flowers to the earth, so the head of the dying boy, as if too heavy for his neck, fell over on his shoulder. "thou diest, hyacinth," so spoke phoebus, "robbed of thy youth by me. thine is the suffering, mine the crime. would that i could die for thee! but since that may not be thou shalt live with me in memory and in song. my lyre shall celebrate thee, my song shall tell thy fate, and thou shalt become a flower inscribed with my regrets." while apollo spoke, behold the blood which had flowed on the ground and stained the herbage, ceased to be blood; but a flower of hue more beautiful than the tyrian sprang up, resembling the lily, if it were not that this is purple and that silvery white (it is evidently not our modern hyacinth that is here described. it is perhaps some species of iris, or perhaps of larkspur, or of pansy.) and this was not enough for phoebus; but to confer still grater honor, he marked the petals with his sorrow, and inscribed "ah! ah!" upon them, as we see to this day. the flower bears the name of hyacinthus, and with every returning spring revives the memory of his fate. it was said that zephyrus (the west-wind), who was also fond of hyacinthus and jealous of his preference of apollo, blew the quoit out of its course to make it strike hyacinthus. keats alludes to this in his endymion, where he describes the lookers- on at the game of quoits: "or they might watch the quoit-pitchers, intent on either side, pitying the sad death of hyacinthus, when the cruel breath of zephyr slew him; zephyr penitent, who now ere phoebus mounts the firmament, fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain." an allusion to hyacinthus will also be recognized in milton's lycidas: "like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe." ceyx and halcyone: or, the halcyon birds ceyx was king of thessaly, where he reigned in peace without violence or wrong. he was son of hesperus, the day-star, and the glow of his beauty reminded one of his father. halcyone, the daughter of aeolus, was his wife, and devotedly attached to him. now ceyx was in deep affliction for the loss of his brother, and direful prodigies following his brother's death made him feel as if the gods were hostile to him. he thought best therefore to make a voyage to claros in ionia, to consult the oracle of apollo. but as soon as he disclosed his intention to his wife halcyone, a shudder ran through her frame, and her face grew deadly pale. "what fault of mine, dearest husband, has turned your affection from me? where is that love of me that used to be uppermost in your thoughts? have you learned to feel easy in the absence of halcyone? would you rather have me away?" she also endeavored to discourage him, by describing the violence of the winds, which she had known familiarly when she lived at home in her father's house, aeolus being the god of the winds, and having as much as he could do to restrain them. "they rush together," said she, "with such fury that fire flashes from the conflict. but if you must go," she added, "dear husband, let me go with you, otherwise i shall suffer, not only the real evils which you must encounter, but those also which my fears suggest." these words weighed heavily on the mind of king ceyx, and it was no less his own wish than hers to take her with him, but he could not bear to expose her to the dangers of the sea. he answered, therefore, consoling her as well as he could, and finished with these words: "i promise, by the rays of my father the day-star, that if fate permits i will return before the moon shall have twice rounded her orb." when he had thus spoken he ordered the vessel to be drawn out of the ship-house, and the oars and sails to be put aboard. when halcyone saw these preparations she shuddered, as if with a presentiment of evil. with tears and sobs she said farewell, and then fell senseless to the ground. ceyx would still have lingered, but now the young men grasped their oars and pulled vigorously through the waves, with long and measured strokes. halcyone raised her streaming eyes, and saw her husband standing on the deck, waving his hand to her. she answered his signal till the vessel had receded so far that she could no longer distinguish his form from the rest. when the vessel itself could no more be seen, she strained her eyes to catch the last glimmer of the sail, till that too disappeared. then, retiring to her chamber, she threw herself on her solitary couch. meanwhile they glide out of the harbor, and the breeze plays among the ropes. the seamen draw in their oars, and hoist their sails. when half or less of their course was passed, as night drew on, the sea began to whiten with swelling waves, and the east wind to blow a gale. the master gives the word to take in sail, but the storm forbids obedience, for such is the roar of the winds and waves that his orders are unheard. the men, of their own accord, busy themselves to secure the oars, to strengthen the ship, to reef the sail. while they thus do what to each one seems best, the storm increases. the shouting of the men, the rattling of the shrouds, and the dashing of the waves, mingle with the roar of the thunder. the swelling sea seems lifted up to the heavens, to scatter its foam among the clouds; then sinking away to the bottom assumes the color of the shoal, a stygian blackness. the vessel obeys all these changes. it seems like a wild beast that rushes on the spears of the hunters. rain falls in torrents, as if the skies were coming down to unite with the sea. when the lightning ceases for a moment, the night seems to add its own darkness to that of the storm; then comes the flash, rending the darkness asunder, and lighting up all with a glare. skill fails, courage sinks, and death seems to come on every wave. the men are stupefied with terror. the thought of parents, and kindred, and pledges left at home, comes over their minds. ceyx thinks of halcyone. no name but hers is on his lips, and while he yearns for her, he yet rejoices in her absence. presently the mast is shattered by a stroke of lightning, the rudder broken, and the triumphant surge curling over looks down upon the wreck, then falls, and crushes it to fragments. some of the seamen, stunned by the stroke, sink, and rise no more; others cling to fragments of the wreck. ceyx, with the hand that used to grasp the sceptre, holds fast to a plank, calling for help, alas, in vain, upon his father and his father-in-law. but oftenest on his lips was the name of halcyone. his thoughts cling to her. he prays that the waves may bear his body to her sight, and that it may receive burial at her hands. at length the waters overwhelm him, and he sinks. the day-star looked dim that night. since it could not leave the heavens, it shrouded its face with clouds. in the mean while halcyone, ignorant of all these horrors, counted the days till her husband's promised return. now she gets ready the garments which he shall put on, and now what she shall wear when he arrives. to all the gods she offers frequent incense but more than all to juno. for her husband, who was no more, she prayed incessantly; that he might be safe; that he might come home; that he might not, in his absence, see any one that he would love better than her. but of all these prayers, the last was the only one destined to be granted. the goddess, at length, could not bear any longer to be pleaded with for one already dead, and to have hands raised to her altars, that ought rather to be offering funeral rites. so, calling iris, she said, "iris, my faithful messenger, go to the drowsy dwelling of somnus, and tell him to send a vision to halcyone, in the form of ceyx, to make known to her the event." iris puts on her robe of many colors, and tingeing the sky with her bow, seeks the palace of the king of sleep. near the cimmerian country, a mountain cave is the abode of the dull god, somnus, here phoebus dares not come, either rising, or at midday, or setting. clouds and shadows are exhaled from the ground, and the light glimmers faintly. the bird of dawn, with crested head, never calls aloud there to aurora, nor watchful dog, nor more sagacious goose disturbs the silence. (this comparison of the dog and the goose is a reference by ovid to a passage in roman history.) no wild beast, nor cattle, nor branch moved with the wind, nor sound of human conversation, breaks the stillness. silence reigns there; and from the bottom of the rock the river lethe flows, and by its murmur invites to sleep. poppies grow abundantly before the door of the cave, and other herbs, from whose juices night collects slumbers, which she scatters over the darkened earth. there is no gate to the mansion, to creak on its hinges, nor any watchman; but in the midst, a couch of black ebony, adorned with black plumes and black curtains. there the god reclines, his limbs relaxed with sleep. around him lie dreams, resembling all various forms, as many as the harvest bears stalks, or the forest leaves, or the seashore grains of sand. as soon as the goddess entered and brushed away the dreams that hovered around her, her brightness lit up all the cave. the god, scarce opening his eyes, and ever and anon dropping his beard upon his breast, at last shook himself free from himself, and leaning on his arm, inquired her errand, for he knew who she was. she answered, "somnus, gentlest of the gods, tranquillizer of minds and soother of careworn hearts, juno sends you her commands that you dispatch a dream to halcyone, in the city of trachinae, representing her lost husband and all the events of the wreck." having delivered her message, iris hasted away, for she could not longer endure the stagnant air, and as she felt drowsiness creeping over her, she made her escape, and returned by her bow the way she came. then somnus called one of his numerous sons, morpheus, the most expert at counterfeiting forms, and in imitating the walk, the countenance, and mode of speaking, even the clothes and attitudes most characteristic of each. but he only imitates men, leaving it to another to personate birds, beasts, and serpents. him they call icelos; and phantasos is a third, who turns himself into rocks, waters, woods, and other things without life. these wait upon kings and great personages in their sleeping hours, while others move among the common people. somnus chose, from all the brothers, morpheus, to perform the command of iris; then laid his head on his pillow and yielded himself to grateful repose. morpheus flew, making no noise with his wings, and soon came to the haemonian city, where, laying aside his wings, he assumed the form of ceyx. under that form, but pale like a dead man, naked, he stood before the couch of the wretched wife. his beard seemed soaked with water, and water trickled from his drowned locks. leaning over the bed, tears streaming from his eyes, he said, "do you recognize your ceyx, unhappy wife, or has death too much changed my visage? behold me, know me, your husband's shade, instead of himself. your prayers, halcyone, availed me nothing. i am dead. no more deceive yourself with vain hopes of my return. the stormy winds sunk my ship in the aegean sea; waves filled my mouth while it called aloud on you. no uncertain messenger tells you this, no vague rumor brings it to your ears. i come in person, a shipwrecked man, to tell you my fate. arise! give me tears, give me lamentations, let me not go down to tartarus unwept." to these words morpheus added the voice which seemed to be that of her husband; he seemed to pour forth genuine tears; his hands had the gestures of ceyx. halcyone, weeping, groaned, and stretched out her arms in her sleep, striving to embrace his body, but grasping only the air. "stay!" she cried; "whither do you fly? let us go together." her own voice awakened her. starting up, she gazed eagerly around, to see if he was still present, for the servants, alarmed by her cries, had brought a light. when she found him not, she smote her breast and rent her garments. she cares not to unbind her hair, but tears it wildly. her nurse asks what is the cause of her grief. "halcyone is no more," she answers; "she perished with her ceyx. utter not words of comfort, he is shipwrecked and dead. i have seen him. i have recognized him. i stretched out my hands to seize him and detain him. his shade vanished, but it was the true shade of my husband. not with the accustomed features, not with the beauty that was his, but pale, naked, and with his hair wet with sea-water, he appeared to wretched me. here, in this very spot, the sad vision stood," and she looked to find the mark of his footsteps. "this it was, this that my presaging mind foreboded, when i implored him not to leave me to trust himself to the waves. o, how i wish, since thou wouldst go, that thou hadst taken me with thee! it would have been far better. then i should have had no remnant of life to spend without thee, nor a separate death to die. if i could bear to live and struggle to endure, i should be more cruel to myself than the sea has been to me. but i will not struggle. i will not be separated from thee, unhappy husband. this time, at least i will keep thee company. in death, if one tomb may not include us, one epitaph shall; if i may not lay my ashes with thine, my name, at least, shall not be separated." her grief forbade more words, and these were broken with tears and sobs. it was now morning. she went to the sea-shore, and sought the spot where she last saw him, on his departure. "here he lingered and cast off his tacklings and gave me his last kiss." while she reviews every moment, and strives to recall every incident, looking out over the sea, she descries an indistinct object floating in the water. at first she was in doubt what it was, but by degrees the waves bore it nearer, and it was plainly the body of a man. though unknowing of whom, yet, as it was of some shipwrecked one, she was deeply moved, and gave it her tears, saying, "alas! unhappy one, and unhappy, if such there be, thy wife!" borne by the waves, it came nearer. as she more and more nearly views it, she trembles more and more. now, now it approaches the shore. now marks that she recognizes appear. it is her husband! stretching out her trembling hands towards it, she exclaims, "o, dearest husband, is it thus you return to me?" there was built out from the shore a mole, constructed to break the assaults of the sea, and stem its violent ingress. she leaped upon this barrier and (it was wonderful she could do so) she flew, and striking the air with wings produced on the instant, skimmed along the surface of the water, an unhappy bird. as she flew, her throat poured forth sounds full of grief, and like the voice of one lamenting. when she touched the mute and bloodless body, she enfolded its beloved limbs with her new- formed wings, and tried to give kisses with her horny beak. whether ceyx felt it, or whether it was only the action of the waves, those who looked on doubted, but the body seemed to raise its head. but indeed he did feel it, and by the pitying gods both of them were changed into birds. they mate and have their young ones. for seven placid days, in winter time, halcyone broods over her nest, which floats upon the sea. then the way is safe to seamen. aeolus guards the winds, and keeps them from disturbing the deep. the sea is given up, for the time, to his grandchildren. the following lines from byron's bride of abydos might seem borrowed from the concluding part of this description, if it were not stated that the author derived the suggestion from observing the motion of a floating corpse. "as shaken on his restless pillow, his head heaves with the heaving billow; that hand, whose motion is not life, yet feebly seems to menace strife, flung by the tossing tide on high,. then levelled with the wave " milton, in his hymn for the nativity, thus alludes to the fable of the halcyon: "but peaceful was the night wherein the prince of light his reign of peace upon the earth began; the winds with wonder whist, smoothly the waters kist, whispering new joys to the mild ocean who now hath quite forgot to rave while birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave." keats, also, in endymion, says: "o magic sleep! o comfortable bird that broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind till it is hushed and smooth." chapter vi vertumnus and pomona. cupid and psyche the hamadryads were wood-nymphs. among them was pomona, and no one excelled her in love of the garden and the culture of fruit. she cared not for forests and rivers, but loved the cultivated country and trees that bear delicious apples. her right hand bore for its weapon not a javelin, but a pruning knife. armed with this, she worked at one time, to repress the too luxuriant growths, and curtail the branches that straggled out of place; at another, to split the twig and insert therein a graft, making the branch adopt a nursling not its own. she took care, too, that her favorites should not suffer from drought, and led streams of water by them that the thirsty roots might drink. this occupation was her pursuit, her passion; and she was free from that which venus inspires. she was not without fear of the country people, and kept her orchard locked, and allowed not men to enter. the fauns and satyrs would have given all they possessed to win her, and so would old sylvanus, who looks young for his years, and pan, who wears a garland of pine leaves around his head. but vertumnus loved her best of all; yet he sped no better than the rest. oh, how often, in the disguise of a reaper, did he bring her corn in a basket, and looked the very image of a reaper! with a hay-band tied round him, one would think he had just come from turning over the grass. sometimes he would have an ox-goad in his hand, and you would have said he had just unyoked his weary oxen. now he bore a pruning-hook, and personated a vine-dresser; and again with a ladder on his shoulder, he seemed as if he was going to gather apples. sometimes he trudged along as a discharged soldier, and again he bore a fishing-rod as if going to fish. in this way, he gained admission to her, again and again, and fed his passion with the sight of her. one day he came in the guise of an old woman, her gray hair surmounted with a cap, and a staff in her hand. she entered the garden and admired the fruit. "it does you credit, my dear," she said, and kissed pomona, not exactly with an old woman's kiss. she sat down on a bank, and looked up at the branches laden with fruit which hung over her. opposite was an elm entwined with a vine loaded with swelling grapes. she praised the tree and its associated vine, equally. "but," said vertumnus, "if the tree stood alone, and had no vine clinging to it, it would lie prostrate on the ground. why will you not take a lesson from the tree and the vine, and consent to unite yourself with some one? i wish you would. helen herself had not more numerous suitors, nor penelope, the wife of shrewd ulysses. even while you spurn them, they court you rural deities and others of every kind that frequent these mountains. but if you are prudent and want to make a good alliance, and will let an old woman advise you, who loves you better than you have any idea of, dismiss all the rest and accept vertumnus, on my recommendation. i know him as well as he knows himself. he is not a wandering deity, but belongs to these mountains. nor is he like too many of the lovers nowadays, who love any one they happen to see; he loves you, and you only. add to this, he is young and handsome, and has the art of assuming any shape he pleases, and can make himself just what you command him. moreover, he loves the same things that you do, delights in gardening, and handles your apples with admiration. but now he cares nothing for fruits, nor flowers, nor anything else, but only yourself. take pity on him, and fancy him speaking now with my mouth. remember that the gods punish cruelty, and that venus hates a hard heart, and will visit such offenses sooner or later. to prove this, let me tell you a story, which is well known in cyprus to be a fact; and i hope it will have the effect to make you more merciful. "iphis was a young man of humble parentage, who saw and loved anaxarete, a noble lady of the ancient family of teucer. he struggled long with his passion, but when he found he could not subdue it, he came a suppliant to her mansion. first he told his passion to her nurse, and begged her as she loved her foster- child to favor his suit. and then he tried to win her domestics to his side. sometimes he committed his vows to written tablets, and often hung at her door garlands which he had moistened with his tears. he stretched himself on her threshold, and uttered his complaints to the cruel bolts and bars. she was deafer than the surges which rise in the november gale; harder than steel from the german forges, or a rock that still clings to its native cliff. she mocked and laughed at him, adding cruel words to her ungentle treatment, and gave not the slightest gleam of hope. "iphis could not any longer endure the torments of hopeless love, and standing before her doors, he spake these last words: 'anaxarete, you have conquered, and shall no longer have to bear my importunities. enjoy your triumph! sing songs of joy, and bind your forehead with laurel, you have conquered! i die; stony heart, rejoice! this at least i can do to gratify you, and force you to praise me; and thus shall i prove that the love of you left me but with life. nor will i leave it to rumor to tell you of my death. i will come myself, and you shall see me die, and feast your eyes on the spectacle. yet, oh, ye gods, who look down on mortal woes, observe my fate! i ask but this! let me be remembered in coming ages, and add those years to my name which you have reft from my life.' thus he said, and, turning his pale face and weeping eyes towards her mansion, he fastened a rope to the gate-post, on which he had hung garlands, and putting his head into the noose, he murmured, 'this garland at least will please you, cruel girl!' and falling, hung suspended with his neck broken. as he fell he struck against the gate, and the sound was as the sound of a groan. the servants opened the door and found him dead, and with exclamations of pity raised him and carried him home to his mother, for his father was not living. she received the dead body of her son, and folded the cold form to her bosom; while she poured forth the sad words which bereaved mothers utter. the mournful funeral passed through the town, and the pale corpse was borne on a bier to the place of the funeral pile. by chance the home of anaxarete was on the street where the procession passed, and the lamentations of the mourners met the ears of her whom the avenging deity had already marked for punishment. "'let us see this sad procession,' said she, and mounted to a turret, whence through an open window she looked upon the funeral. scarce had her eyes rested upon the form of iphis stretched on the bier, when they began to stiffen, and the warm blood in her body to become cold. endeavoring to step back, she found she could not move her feet; trying to turn away her face, she tried in vain; and by degrees all her limbs became stony like her heart. that you may not doubt the fact, the statue still remains, and stands in the temple of venus at salamis, in the exact form of the lady. now think of these things, my dear, and lay aside your scorn and your delays, and accept a lover. so may neither the vernal frosts blight your young fruits, nor furious winds scatter your blossoms!" when vertumnus had spoken thus, he dropped the disguise of an old woman, and stood before her in his proper person, as a comely youth. it appeared to her like the sun bursting through a cloud. he would have renewed his entreaties, but there was no need; his arguments and the sight of his true form prevailed, and the nymph no longer resisted, but owned a mutual flame. pomona was the especial patroness of the apple-orchard, and as such she was invoked by phillips, the author of a poem on cider, in blank verse, in the following lines: "what soil the apple loves, what care is due to orchats, timeliest when to press the fruits, thy gift, pomona, in miltonian verse adventurous i presume to sing." thomson, in the seasons, alludes to phillips: "phillips, pomona's bard, the second thou who nobly durst, in rhyme-unfettered verse, with british freedom, sing the british song." it will be seen that thomson refers to the poet's reference to milton, but it is not true that phillips is only the second writer of english blank verse. many other poets beside milton had used it long before phillips' time. but pomona was also regarded as presiding over other fruits, and, as such, is invoked by thomson: "bear me, pomona, to thy citron groves, to where the lemon and the piercing lime, with the deep orange, glowing through the green, their lighter glories blend. lay me reclined beneath the spreading tamarind, that shakes, fanned by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit." cupid and psyche a certain king had three daughters. (this seems to be one of the latest fables of the greek mythology. it has not been found earlier than the close of the second century of the christian era. it bears marks of the higher religious notions of that time.) the two elder were charming girls, but the beauty of the youngest was so wonderful that language is too poor to express its due praise. the fame of her beauty was so great that strangers from neighboring countries came in crowds to enjoy the sight, and looked on her with amazement, paying her that homage which is due only to venus herself. in fact, venus found her altars deserted, while men turned their devotion to this young virgin. as she passed along, the people sang her praises, and strewed her way with chaplets and flowers. this perversion to a mortal of the homage due only to the immortal powers gave great offence to the real venus. shaking her ambrosial locks with indignation, she exclaimed, "am i then to be eclipsed in my honors by a mortal girl? in vain then did that royal shepherd, whose judgment was approved by jove himself, give me the palm of beauty over my illustrious rivals, pallas and june. but she shall not so quietly usurp my honors. i will give her cause to repent of so unlawful a beauty." thereupon she calls her winged son cupid, mischievous enough in his own nature, and rouses and provokes him yet more by her complaints. she points out psyche to him, and says, "my dear son, punish that contumacious beauty; give thy mother a revenge as sweet as her injuries are great; infuse into the bosom of that haughty girl a passion for some low, mean, unworthy being, so that she may reap a mortification as great as her present exultation and triumph." cupid prepared to obey the commands of his mother. there are two fountains in venus's garden, one of sweet waters, the other of bitter. cupid filled two amber vases, one from each fountain, and suspending them from the top of his quiver, hastened to the chamber of psyche, whom he found asleep. he shed a few drops from the bitter fountain over her lips, though the sight of her almost moved him to pity; then touched her side with the point of his arrow. at the touch she awoke, and opened eyes upon cupid (himself invisible) which so startled him that in his confusion he wounded himself with his own arrow. heedless of his wound his whole thought now was to repair the mischief he had done, and he poured the balmy drops of joy over all her silken ringlets. psyche, henceforth frowned upon by venus, derived no benefit from all her charms. true, all eyes were cast eagerly upon her, and every mouth spoke her praises; but neither king, royal youth, nor plebeian presented himself to demand her in marriage. her two elder sisters of moderate charms had now long been married to two royal princes; but psyche, in her lonely apartment, deplored her solitude, sick of that beauty, which, while it procured abundance of flattery, had failed to awaken love. her parents, afraid that they had unwittingly incurred the anger of the gods, consulted the oracle of apollo, and received this answer: "the virgin is destined for the bride of no mortal lover. her future husband awaits her on the top of the mountain. he is a monster whom neither gods nor men can resist." this dreadful decree of the oracle filled all the people with dismay, and her parents abandoned themselves to grief. but psyche said, "why, my dear parents, do you now lament me? you should rather have grieved when the people showered upon me undeserved honors, and with one voice called me a venus. i now perceive that i am a victim to that name. i submit. lead me to that rock to which my unhappy fate has destined me." accordingly, all things being prepared, the royal maid took her place in the procession, which more resembled a funeral than a nuptial pomp, and with her parents, amid the lamentations of the people, ascended the mountain, on the summit of which they left her alone, and with sorrowful hearts returned home. while psyche stood on the ridge of the mountain, panting with fear and with eyes full of tears, the gentle zephyr raised her from the earth and bore her with an easy motion into a flowery dale. by degrees her mind became composed, and she laid herself down on the grassy bank to sleep. when she awoke, refreshed with sleep, she looked round and beheld nearby a pleasant grove of tall and stately trees. she entered it, and in the midst discovered a fountain, sending forth clear and crystal waters, and hard by, a magnificent palace whose august front impressed the spectator that it was not the work of mortal hands, but the happy retreat of some god. drawn by admiration and wonder, she approached the building and ventured to enter. every object she met filled her with pleasure and amazement. golden pillars supported the vaulted roof, and the walls were enriched with carvings and paintings representing beasts of the chase and rural scenes, adapted to delight the eye of the beholder. proceeding onward she perceived that besides the apartments of state there were others, filled with all manner of treasures, and beautiful and precious productions of nature and art. while her eyes were thus occupied, a voice addressed her, though she saw no one, uttering these words: "sovereign lady, all that you see is yours. we whose voices you hear are your servants, and shall obey all your commands with our utmost care and diligence. retire therefore to your chamber and repose on your bed of down, and when you see fit repair to the bath. supper will await you in the adjoining alcove when it pleases you to take your seat there." psyche gave ear to the admonitions of her vocal attendants, and after repose and the refreshment of the bath, seated herself in the alcove, where a table immediately presented itself, without any visible aid from waiters or servants, and covered with the greatest delicacies of food and the most nectareous wines. her ears too were feasted with music from invisible performers; of whom one sang, another played on the lute, and all closed in the wonderful harmony of a full chorus. she had not yet seen her destined husband. he came only in the hours of darkness, and fled before the dawn of morning, but his accents were full of love, and inspired a like passion in her. she often begged him to stay and let her behold him, but he would not consent. on the contrary, he charged her to make no attempt to see him, for it was his pleasure, for the best of reasons, to keep concealed. "why should you wish to behold me?" he said. "have you any doubt of my love? have you any wish ungratified? if you saw me, perhaps you would fear me, perhaps adore me, but all i ask of you is to love me. i would rather you would love me as an equal than adore me as a god." this reasoning somewhat quieted psyche for a time, and while the novelty lasted she felt quite happy. but at length the thought of her parents, left in ignorance of her fate, and of her sisters, precluded from sharing with her the delights of her situation, preyed on her mind and made her begin to feel her palace as but a splendid prison. when her husband came one night, she told him her distress, and at last drew from him an unwilling consent that her sisters should be brought to see her. so calling zephyr, she acquainted him with her husband's commands, and he, promptly obedient, soon brought them across the mountain down to their sister's valley. they embraced her and she returned their caresses. "come," said psyche, "enter with me my house and refresh yourselves with whatever your sister has to offer." then taking their hands she led them into her golden palace, and committed them to the care of her numerous train of attendant voices, to refresh them in her baths and at her table, and to show them all her treasures. the view of these celestial delights caused envy to enter their bosoms, at seeing their young sister possessed of such state and splendor, so much exceeding their own. they asked her numberless questions, among others what sort of a person her husband was. psyche replied that he was a beautiful youth, who generally spent the daytime in hunting upon the mountains. the sisters, not satisfied with this reply, soon made her confess that she had never seen him. then they proceeded to fill her bosom with dark suspicions. "call to mind," they said, "the pythian oracle that declared you destined to marry a direful and tremendous monster. the inhabitants of this valley say that your husband is a terrible and monstrous serpent, who nourishes you for a while with dainties that he may by and by devour you. take our advice. provide yourself with a lamp and a sharp knife; put them in concealment that your husband may not discover them, and when he is sound asleep, slip out of bed bring forth your lamp and see for yourself whether what they say is true or not. if it is, hesitate not to cut off the monster's head, and thereby recover your liberty." psyche resisted these persuasions as well as she could, but they did not fail to have their effect on her mind, and when her sisters were gone, their words and her own curiosity were too strong for her to resist. so she prepared her lamp and a sharp knife, and hid them out of sight of her husband. when he had fallen into his first sleep, she silently rose and uncovering her lamp beheld not a hideous monster, but the most beautiful and charming of the gods, with his golden ringlets wandering over his snowy neck and crimson cheek, with two dewy wings on his shoulders, whiter than snow, and with shining feathers like the tender blossoms of spring. as she leaned the lamp over to have a nearer view of his face a drop of burning oil fell on the shoulder of the god, startled with which he opened his eyes and fixed them full upon her; then, without saying one word, he spread his white wings and flew out of the window. psyche, in vain endeavoring to follow him, fell from the window to the ground. cupid, beholding her as she lay in the dust, stopped his flight for an instant and said, "o foolish psyche, is it thus you repay my love? after having disobeyed my mother's commands and made you my wife, will you think me a monster and cut off my head? but go; return to your sisters, whose advice you seem to think preferable to mine. i inflict no other punishment on you than to leave you forever. love cannot dwell with suspicion." so saying he fled away, leaving poor psyche prostrate on the ground, filling the place with mournful lamentations. when she had recovered some degree of composure she looked around her, but the palace and gardens had vanished, and she found herself in the open field not far from the city where her sisters dwelt. she repaired thither and told them the whole story of her misfortunes, at which, pretending to grieve, those spiteful creatures inwardly rejoiced; "for now," said they, "he will perhaps choose one of us." with this idea, without saying a word of her intentions, each of them rose early the next morning and ascended the mountain, and having reached the top, called upon zephyr to receive her and bear her to his lord; then leaping up, and not being sustained by zephyr, fell down the precipice and was dashed to pieces. psyche meanwhile wandered day and night, without food or repose, in search of her husband. casting her eyes on a lofty mountain having on its brow a magnificent temple, she sighed and said to herself, "perhaps my love, my lord, inhabits there," and directed her steps thither. she had no sooner entered than she saw heaps of corn, some in loose ears and some in sheaves, with mingled ears of barley. scattered about lay sickles and rakes, and all the instruments of harvest, without order, as if thrown carelessly out of the weary reapers' hands in the sultry hours of the day. this unseemly confusion the pious psyche put an end to, by separating and sorting every thing to its proper place and kind, believing that she ought to neglect none of the gods, but endeavor by her piety to engage them all in her behalf. the holy ceres, whose temple it was, finding her so religiously employed, thus spoke to her: "o psyche, truly worthy of our pity, though i cannot shield you from the frowns of venus, yet i can teach you how best to allay her displeasure. go then, voluntarily surrender yourself to your lady and sovereign, and try by modesty and submission to win her forgiveness; perhaps her favor will restore you the husband you have lost." psyche obeyed the commands of ceres and took her way to the temple of venus, endeavoring to fortify her mind and thinking of what she should say and how she should best propitiate the angry goddess, feeling that the issue was doubtful and perhaps fatal. venus received her with angry countenance. "most undutiful and faithless of servants," said she, "do you at last remember that you really have a mistress? or have you rather come to see your sick husband, yet suffering from the wound given him by his loving wife? you are so ill-favored and disagreeable that the only way you can merit your lover must be by dint of industry and diligence. i will make trial of your housewifery." then she ordered psyche to be led to the storehouse of her temple, where was laid up a great quantity of wheat, barley, millet, vetches, beans, and lentils prepared for food for her doves, and said, "take and separate all these grains, putting all of the same kind in a parcel by themselves, and see that you get it done before evening." then venus departed and left her to her task. but psyche, in perfect consternation at the enormous work, sat stupid and silent, without moving a finger to the inextricable heap. while she sat despairing, cupid stirred up the little ant, a native of the fields, to take compassion on her. the leader of the ant-hill, followed by whole hosts of his six-legged subjects, approached the heap, and with the utmost diligence taking grain by grain, they separated the pile, sorting each kind to its parcel; and when it was all done, they vanished out of sight in a moment. venus at the approach of twilight returned from the banquet of the gods, breathing odors and crowned with roses. seeing the task done she exclaimed, "this is no work of yours wicked one, but his, whom to your own and his misfortune you have enticed." so saying, she threw her a piece of black bread for her supper and went away. next morning venus ordered psyche to be called, and said to her, "behold yonder grove which stretches along the margin of the water. there you will find sheep feeding without a shepherd, with golden-shining fleeces on their backs. go, fetch me a sample of that precious wool gathered from every one of their fleeces. psyche obediently went to the river-side, prepared to do her best to execute the command. but the river-god inspired the reeds with harmonious murmurs, which seemed to say, "o maiden, severely tried, tempt not the dangerous flood, nor venture among the formidable rams on the other side, for as long as they are under the influence of the rising sun, they burn with a cruel rage to destroy mortals with their sharp horns or rude teeth. but when the noontide sun has driven the flock to the shade, and the serene spirit of the flood has lulled them to rest, you may then cross in safety, and you will find the woolly gold sticking to the bushes and the trunks of the trees." thus the compassionate river-god gave psyche instructions how to accomplish her task, and by observing his directions she soon returned to venus with her arms full of the golden fleece; but she received not the approbation of her implacable mistress, who said, "i know very well it is by none of your own doings that you have succeeded in this task, and i am not satisfied yet that you have any capacity to make yourself useful. but i have another task for you. here, take this box, and go your way to the infernal shades, and give this box to proserpine, and say, 'my mistress venus desires you to send her a little of your beauty, for in tending her sick son she has lost come of her own.' be not too long on your errand, for i must paint myself with it to appear at the circle of the gods and goddesses this evening." psyche was now satisfied that her destruction was at hand, being obliged to go with her own feet directly down to erebus. wherefore, to make no delay of what was not to be avoided, she goes to the top of a high tower to precipitate herself headlong, thus to descend the shortest way to the shades below. but a voice from the tower said to her, "why, poor unlucky girl, dost thou design to put an end to thy days in so dreadful a manner? and what cowardice makes thee sink under this last danger, who hast been so miraculously supported in all thy former?" then the voice told her how by a certain cave she might reach the realms of pluto, and how to avoid all the dangers of the road, to pass by cerberus, the three-headed dog, and prevail on charon, the ferryman, to take her across the black river and bring her back again. but the voice added, "when proserpine has given you the box, filled with her beauty, of all things this is chiefly to be observed by you, that you never once open or look into the box nor allow your curiosity to pry into the treasure of the beauty of the goddesses. psyche encouraged by this advice obeyed it in all things, and taking heed to her ways travelled safely to the kingdom of pluto. she was admitted to the palace of proserpine, and without accepting the delicate seat or delicious banquet that was offered her, but contented with coarse bread for her food, she delivered her message from venus. presently the box was returned to her, shut and filled with the precious commodity. then she returned the way she came, and glad was she to come out once more into the light of day. but having got so far successfully through her dangerous task a longing desire seized her to examine the contents of the box. "what," said she, "shall i, the carrier of this divine beauty, not take the least bit to put on my cheeks to appear to more advantage in the eyes of my beloved husband!:" so she carefully opened the box, but found nothing there of any beauty at all, but an infernal and truly stygian sleep, which being thus set free from its prison, took possession of her, and she fell down in the midst of the road, a sleepy corpse without sense or motion. but cupid being now recovered from his wound, and not able longer to bear the absence of his beloved psyche, slipping through the smallest crack of the window of his chamber which happened to be left open, flew to the spot where psyche lay, and gathering up the sleep from her body closed it again in the box, and waked psyche with a light touch of one of his arrows. "again," said he, "hast thou almost perished by the same curiosity. but now perform exactly the task imposed on you by my mother, and i will take care of the rest." then cupid, as swift as lightning penetrating the heights of heaven, presented himself before jupiter with his supplication. jupiter lent a favoring ear, and pleaded the cause of the lovers so earnestly with venus that he won her consent. on this he sent mercury to bring psyche up to the heavenly assembly, and when she arrived, handing her a cup of ambrosia, he said, "drink this, psyche, and be immortal; nor shall cupid ever break away from the knot in which he is tied, but these nuptials shall be perpetual." thus psyche became at last united to cupid, and in due time they had a daughter born to them whose name was pleasure. the fable of cupid and psyche is usually considered allegorical. the greek name for a butterfly is psyche, and the same word means the soul. there is no illustration of the immortality of the soul so striking and beautiful as the butterfly, bursting on brilliant wings from the tomb in which it has lain, after a dull, grovelling caterpillar existence, to flutter in the blaze of day and feed on the most fragrant and delicate productions of the spring. psyche, then, is the human soul, which is purified by sufferings and misfortunes, and is thus prepared for the enjoyment of true and pure happiness. in works of art psyche is represented as a maiden with the wings of a butterfly, alone or with cupid, in the different situations described in the allegory. milton alludes to the story of cupid and psyche in the conclusion of his comus:-- "celestial cupid, her famed son, advanced, holds his dear psyche sweet entranced, after her wandering labors long, till free consent the gods among make her his eternal bride; and from her fair unspotted side t wo blissful twins are to be born, youth and joy; so jove hath sworn." the allegory of the story of cupid and psyche is well presented in the beautiful lines of t. k. hervey:-- "they wove bright fables in the days of old when reason borrowed fancy's painted wings; when truth's clear river flowed o'er sands of gold, and told in song its high and mystic things! and such the sweet and solemn tale of her the pilgrim-heart, to whom a dream was given. that led her through the world, love's worshipper, to seek on earth for him whose home was heaven! "in the full city, by the haunted fount, through the dim grotto's tracery of spars, 'mid the pine temples, on the moonlit mount, where silence sits to listen to the stars; in the deep glade where dwells the brooding dove, the painted valley, and the scented air, she heard far echoes of the voice of love, and found his footsteps' traces everywhere. "but never more they met! since doubts and fears, those phantom-shapes that haunt and blight the earth, had come 'twixt her, a child of sin and tears, and that bright spirit of immortal birth; until her pining soul and weeping eyes had learned to seek him only in the skies; till wings unto the weary heart were given, and she became love's angel bride in heaven!" the story of cupid and psyche first appears in the works of apuleius, a writer of the second century of our era. it is therefore of much more recent date than most of the legends of the age of fable. it is this that keats alludes to in his ode to psyche. "o latest born and loveliest vision far of all olympus' faded hierarchy! fairer than phoebe's sapphire-regioned star or vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky; fairer than these, though temple thou hast none, nor altar heaped with flowers; nor virgin-choir to make delicious moan upon the midnight hours; no voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet, from chain-swung censer teeming; no shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming." in moore's summer fete, a fancy ball is described, in which one of the characters personated is psyche. "not in dark disguise to-night hath our young heroine veiled her light; for see, she walks the earth, love's own. his wedded bride, by holiest vow pledged in olympus, and made known to mortals by the type which now hangs glittering on her snowy brow, that butterfly, mysterious trinket, which means the soul (though few would think it), and sparkling thus on brow so white, tells us we've psyche here to-night." chapter vii cadmus. the myrmidons. jupiter, under the disguise of a bull, had carried away to the island of crete, europa, the daughter of agenor king of phoenicia. agenor commanded his son cadmus to go in search of his sister, and not to return without her. cadmus went and sought long and far for his sister, but could not find her, and not daring to return unsuccessful, consulted the oracle of apollo to know what country he should settle in. the oracle informed him that he should find a cow in the field, and should follow her wherever she might wander, and where she stopped, should build a city and call it thebes. cadmus had hardly left the castalian cave, from which the oracle was delivered, when he saw a young cow slowly walking before him. he followed her close, offering at the same time his prayers to phoebus. the cow went on till she passed the shallow channel of cephisus and came out into the plain of panope. there she stood still, and raising her broad forehead to the sky, filled the air with her lowings. cadmus gave thanks, and stooping down kissed the foreign soil, then lifting his eyes, greeted the surrounding mountains. wishing to offer a sacrifice to jupiter, he sent his servants to seek pure water for a libation. nearby there stood an ancient grove which had never been profaned by the axe, in the midst of which was a cave, thick covered with the growth of bushes, its roof forming a low arch, from beneath which burst forth a fountain of purest water. in the cave lurked a horrid serpent with a crested head and scales glittering like gold. his eyes shone like fire, his body was swollen with venom, he vibrated a triple tongue, and showed a triple row of teeth. no sooner had the tyrians (cadmus and his companions came from tyre, the chief city of phoenicia) dipped their pitchers in the fountain, and the ingushing waters made a sound, than the glittering serpent raised his head out of the cave and uttered a fearful hiss. the vessels fell from their hands, the blood left their cheeks, they trembled in every limb. the serpent, twisting his scaly body in a huge coil, raised his head so as to overtop the tallest trees, and while the tyrians from terror could neither fight nor fly, slew some with his fangs, others in his folds, and others with his poisonous breath. cadmus having waited for the return of his men till midday, went in search of them. his covering was a lion's hide, and besides his javelin he carried in his hand a lance, and in his breast a bold heart, a surer reliance than either. when he entered the wood and saw the lifeless bodies of his men, and the monster with his bloody jaws, he exclaimed, "o faithful friends, i will avenge you, or share your death." so saying he lifted a huge stone and threw it with all his force at the serpent. such a block would have shaken the wall of a fortress, but it made no impression on the monster. cadmus next threw his javelin, which met with better success, for it penetrated the serpent's scales, and pierced through to his entrails. fierce with pain the monster turned back his head to view the wound, and attempted to draw out the weapon with his mouth, but broke it off, leaving the iron point rankling in his flesh. his neck swelled with rage, bloody foam covered his jaws, and the breath of his nostrils poisoned the air around. now he twisted himself into a circle, then stretched himself out on the ground like the trunk of a fallen tree. as he moved onward, cadmus retreated before him, holding his spear opposite to the monster's opened jaws. the serpent snapped at the weapon and attempted to bite its iron point. at last cadmus, watching his chance, thrust the spear at a moment when the animal's thrown back came against the trunk of a tree, and so succeeded in pinning him to its side. his weight bent the tree as he struggled in the agonies of death. while cadmus stood over his conquered foe, contemplating its vast size, a voice was heard (from whence he knew not, but he heard it distinctly), commanding him to take the dragon's teeth and sow them in the earth. he obeyed. he made a furrow in the ground, and planted the teeth, destined to produce a crop of men. scarce had he done so when the clods began to move, and the points of spears to appear above the surface. next helmets, with their nodding plumes, came up, and next, the shoulders and breasts and limbs of men with weapons, and in time a harvest of armed warriors. cadmus, alarmed, prepared to encounter a new enemy, but one of them said to him, "meddle not with our civil war." with that he who had spoken smote one of his earth-born brothers with a sword, and he himself fell pierced with an arrow from another. the latter fell victim to a fourth, and in like manner the whole crowd dealt with each other till all fell slain with mutual wounds except five survivors. one of these cast away his weapons and said, "brothers, let us live in peace!" these five joined with cadmus in building his city, to which they gave the name of thebes. cadmus obtained in marriage harmonia, the daughter of venus. the gods left olympus to honor the occasion with their presence, and vulcan presented the bride with a necklace of surpassing brilliancy, his own workmanship. but a fatality hung over the family of cadmus in consequence of his killing the serpent sacred to mars. semele and ino, his daughters, and actaeon and pentheius, his grandchildren, all perished unhappily; and cadmus and harmonia quitted thebes, now grown odious to them, and emigrated to the country of the enchelians, who received them with honor and made cadmus their king. but the misfortunes of their children still weighed upon their minds; and one day cadmus exclaimed, "if a serpent's life is so dear to the gods, i would i were myself a serpent." no sooner had he uttered the words than he began to change his form. harmonia beheld it, and prayed to the gods to let her share his fate. both became serpents. they lie in the woods, but mindful of their origin they neither avoid the presence of man nor do they ever injure any one. there is a tradition that cadmus introduced into greece the letters of the alphabet which were invented by the phoenicians. this is alluded to by byron, where, addressing the modern greeks, he says: "you have the letters cadmus gave, think you he meant them for a slave?" milton, describing the serpent which tempted eve, is reminded of the serpents of the classical stories, and says, "----pleasing was his shape, and lovely; never since of serpent kind lovelier; not those that in illyria changed hermione and cadmus, nor the god in epidaurus." the "god in epidaurus" was aesculapius. serpents were held sacred to him. the myrmidons the myrmidons were the soldiers of achilles in the trojan war. from them all zealous and unscrupulous followers of a political chief are called by that name down to this day. but the origin of the myrmidons would not give one the idea of a fierce and bloody race, but rather of a laborious and peaceful one. cephalus, king of athens, arrived in the island of aegina to seek assistance of his old friend and ally aeacus, the king, in his wars with minos, king of crete. cephalus was kindly received, and the desired assistance readily promised. "i have people enough," said aeacus, "to protect myself and spare you such a force as you need." "i rejoice to see it," replied cephalus, "and my wonder has been raised, i confess, to find such a host of youths as i see around me, all apparently of about the same age. yet there are many individuals whom i previously knew that i look for now in vain. what has become of them?" aeacus groaned, and replied with a voice of sadness, "i have been intending to tell you, and will now do so without more delay, that you may see how from the saddest beginning a happy result sometimes flows. those whom you formerly knew are now dust and ashes! a plague sent by angry juno devastated the land. she hated it because it bore the name of one of her husband's female favorites. while the disease appeared to spring from natural causes we resisted it as we best might by natural remedies; but it soon appeared that the pestilence was too powerful for our efforts, and we yielded. at the beginning the sky seemed to settle down upon the earth, and thick clouds shut in the heated air. for four months together a deadly south wind prevailed. the disorder affected the wells and springs; thousands of snakes crept over the land and shed their poison in the fountains. the force of the disease was first spent on the lower animals; dogs, cattle, sheep, and birds. the luckless ploughman wondered to see his oxen fall in the midst of their work, and lie helpless in the unfinished furrow. the wool fell from the bleating sheep, and their bodies pined away. the horse, once foremost in the race, contested the palm no more, but groaned at his stall, and died an inglorious death. the wild boar forgot his rage, the stag his swiftness, the bears no longer attacked the herds. everything languished; dead bodies lay in the roads, the fields, and the woods; the air was poisoned by them. i tell you what is hardly credible, but neither dogs nor birds would touch them, nor starving wolves. their decay spread the infection. next the disease attacked the country people, and then the dwellers in the city. at first the cheek was flushed, and the breath drawn with difficulty. the tongue grew rough and swelled, and the dry mouth stood open with its veins enlarged and gasped for the air. men could not bear the heat of their clothes or their beds, but preferred to lie on the bare ground; and the ground did not cool them, but on the contrary, they heated the spot where they lay. nor could the physicians help, for the disease attacked them also, and the contact of the sick gave them infection, so that the most faithful were the first victims. at last all hope of relief vanished and men learned to look upon death as the only deliverer from disease. then they gave way to every inclination, and cared not to ask what was expedient, for nothing was expedient. all restraint laid aside, they crowded around the wells and fountains, and drank till they died, without quenching thirst. many had not strength to get away from the water, but died in the midst of the stream, and others would drink of it notwithstanding. such was their weariness of their sick-beds that some would creep forth, and if not strong enough to stand, would die on the ground. they seemed to hate their friends, and got away from their homes, as if, not knowing the cause of their sickness, they charged it on the place of their abode. some were seen tottering along the road, as long as they could stand, while others sank on the earth, and turned their dying eyes around to take a last look, then closed them in death. "what heart had i left me, during all this, or what ought i to have had, except to hate life and wish to be with my dead subjects? on all sides lay my people strewn like over-ripened apples beneath the tree, or acorns under the storm-shaken oak. you see yonder s temple on the height. it is sacred to jupiter. oh, how many offered prayers there; husbands for wives, fathers for sons, and died in the very act of supplication! how often, while the priest made ready for sacrifice, the victim fell, struck down by disease without waiting for the blow. at length all reverence for sacred things was lost. bodies were thrown out unburied, wood was wanting for funeral piles, men fought with one another for the possession of them. finally there were none left to mourn; sons and husbands, old men and youths, perished alike unlamented. "standing before the altar i raised my eyes to heaven. 'oh, jupiter,' i said, 'if thou art indeed my father, and art not ashamed of thy offspring, give me back my people, or take me also away!' at these words a clap of thunder was heard. 'i accept the omen,' i cried; 'oh, may it be a sign of a favorable disposition towards me!' by chance there grew by the place where i stood an oak with wide-spreading branches, sacred to jupiter. i observed a troop of ants busy with their labor, carrying minute grains in their mouths and following one another in a line up the trunk of the tree. observing their numbers with admiration, i said, 'give me, oh father, citizens as numerous as these, and replenish my empty city.' the tree shook and gave a rustling sound with its branches though no wind agitated them. i trembled in every limb, yet i kissed the earth and the tree. i would not confess to myself that i hoped, yet i did hope. night came on and sleep took possession of my frame oppressed with cares. the tree stood before me in my dreams, with its numerous branches all covered with living, moving creatures. it seemed to shake its limbs and throw down over the ground a multitude of those industrious grain-gathering animals, which appeared to gain in size, and grow larger, and by-and-by to stand erect, lay aside their superfluous legs and their black color, and finally to assume the human form. then i awoke, and my first impulse was to chide the gods who had robbed me of a sweet vision and given me no reality in its place. being still in the temple my attention was caught by the sound of many voices without; a sound of late unusual to my ears. while i began to think i was yet dreaming, telamon, my son, throwing open the temple-gates, exclaimed, 'father, approach, and behold things surpassing even your hopes!' i went forth; i saw a multitude of men, such as i had seen in my dream, and they were passing in procession in the same manner. while i gazed with wonder and delight they approached, and kneeling, hailed me as their king. i paid my vows to jove, and proceeded to allot the vacant city to the new-born race, and to parcel out the fields among them. i called them myrmidons from the ant (myrmex), from which they sprang. you have seen these persons; their dispositions resemble those which they had in their former shape. they are a diligent and industrious race, eager to gain, and tenacious of their gains. among them you may recruit your forces. they will follow you to the war, young in years and bold in heart." this description of the plague is copied by ovid from the account which thucydides, the greek historian, gives of the plague of athens. the historian drew from life, and all the poets and writers of fiction since his day, when they have had occasion to describe a similar scene, have borrowed their details from him. chapter viii nisus and scylla. echo and narcissus. clytie. hero and leander minos, king of crete, made war upon megara. nisus was king of megara, and scylla was his daughter. the siege had now lasted six months, and the city still held out, for it was decreed by fate that it should not be taken so long as a certain purple lock, which glittered among the hair of king nisus, remained on his head. there was a tower on the city walls, which overlooked the plain where minos and his army were encamped. to this tower scylla used to repair, and look abroad over the tents of the hostile army. the siege had lasted so long that she had learned to distinguish the persons of the leaders. minos, in particular, excited her admiration. she admired his graceful deportment; if he threw his javelin, skill seemed combined with force in the discharge; if he drew his bow, apollo himself could not have done it more gracefully. but when he laid aside his helmet, and in his purple robes bestrode his white horse with its gay caparisons, and reined in its foaming mouth, the daughter of nisus was hardly mistress of herself; she was almost frantic with admiration. she envied the weapon that he grasped, the reins that he held. she felt as if she could, if it were possible, go to him through the hostile ranks; she felt an impulse to cast herself down from the tower into the midst of his camp, or to open the gates to him, or do anything else, so only it might gratify minos. as she sat in the tower, she talked thus with herself: "i know not whether to rejoice or grieve at this sad war. i grieve that minos is our enemy; but i rejoice at any cause that brings him to my sight. perhaps he would be willing to grant us peace, and receive me as a hostage. i would fly down, if i could, and alight in his camp, and tell him that we yield ourselves to his mercy. but, then, to betray my father! no! rather would i never see minos again. and yet no doubt it is sometimes the best thing for a city to be conquered when the conqueror is clement and generous. minos certainly has right on his side. i think we shall be conquered; and if that must be the end of it, why should not love unbar the gates to him, instead of leaving it to be done by war? better spare delay and slaughter if we can. and, oh, if any one should wound or kill minos! no one surely would have the heart to do it; yet ignorantly, not knowing him, one might. i will, i will surrender myself to him, with my country as a dowry, and so put an end to the war. but how? the gates are guarded, and my father keeps the keys; he only stands in my way. oh, that it might please the gods to take him away! but why ask the gods to do it? another woman, loving as i do, would remove with her own hands whatever stood in the way of her love. and can any other woman dare more than i? i would encounter fire and sword to gain my object; but here there is no need of fire and sword. i only need my father's purple lock. more precious than gold to me, that will give me all i wish." while she thus reasoned night came on, and soon the whole palace was buried in sleep. she entered her father's bedchamber and cut off the fatal lock; then passed out of the city and entered the enemy's camp. she demanded to be led to the king, and thus addressed him: "i am scylla, the daughter of nisus. i surrender to you my country and my father's house. i ask no reward but yourself; for love of you i have done it. see here the purple lock! with this i give you my father and his kingdom." she held out her hand with the fatal spoil. minos shrunk back and refused to touch it. "the gods destroy thee, infamous woman," he exclaimed; "disgrace of our time! may neither earth nor sea yield thee a resting place! surely, my crete, where jove himself was cradled, shall not be polluted with such a monster!" thus he said, and gave orders that equitable terms should be allowed to the conquered city, and that the fleet should immediately sail from the island. scylla was frantic. "ungrateful man," she exclaimed, "is it thus you leave me? me who have given you victory, who have sacrificed for you parent and country! i am guilty, i confess, and deserve to die, by not by your hand." as the ships left the shore, she leaped into the water, and seizing the rudder of the one which carried minos, she was borne along an unwelcome companion of their course. a sea-eagle soaring aloft, it was her father who had been changed into that form, seeing her, pounced down upon her, and struck her with his beak and claws. in terror she let go the ship, and would have fallen into the water, but some pitying deity changed her into a bird. the sea- eagle still cherishes the old animosity; and whenever he espies her in his lofty flight, you may see him dart down upon her, with beak and claws, to take vengeance for the ancient crime. echo and narcissus echo was a beautiful nymph, fond of the woods and hills, where she devoted herself to woodland sports. she was a favorite of diana, and attended her in the chase. but echo had one failing; she was fond of talking, and whether in chat or argument would have the last word. one day juno was seeking her husband, who, she had reason to fear, was amusing himself among the nymphs. echo by her talk contrived to detain the goddess till the nymphs made their escape. when juno discovered it, she passed sentence upon echo in these words: "you shall forfeit the use of that tongue with which you have cheated me, except for that one purpose you are so fond of reply. you shall still have the last word, but no power to speak first." this nymph saw narcissus, a beautiful youth, as he pursued the chase upon the mountains. she loved him, and followed his footsteps. oh, how she longed to address him in the softest accents, and win him to converse, but it was not in her power. she waited with impatience for him to speak first, and had her answer ready. one day the youth, being separated from his companions, shouted aloud, "who's here?" echo replied, "here." narcissus looked around, but seeing no one, called out, "come." echo answered, "come." as no one came, narcissus called again, "why do you shun me?" echo asked the same question. "let us join one another," said the youth. the maid answered with all her heart in the same words, and hastened to the spot, ready to throw her arms about his neck. he started back, exclaiming, "hands off! i would rather die than you should have me." "have me," said she; but it was all in vain. he left her, and she went to hide her blushes in the recesses of the woods. from that time forth she lived in caves and among mountain cliffs. her form faded with grief, till at last all her flesh shrank away. her bones were changed into rocks, and there was nothing left of her but her voice. with that she is still ready to reply to any one who calls her, and keeps up her old habit of having the last word. narcissus was cruel not in this case alone. he shunned all the rest of the nymphs as he had done poor echo. one day a maiden, who had in vain endeavored to attract him, uttered a prayer that he might some time or other feel what it was to love and meet no return of affection. the avenging goddess heard and granted the prayer. there was a clear fountain, with water like silver, to which the shepherds never drove their flocks. nor did the mountain goats resort to it, nor any of the beasts of the forest; neither was it defaced with fallen leaves or branches; but the grass grew fresh around it, and the rocks sheltered it from the sun. hither came one day the youth fatigued with hunting, heated and thirsty. he stooped down to drink, and saw his own image in the water; he thought it was some beautiful water=spirit living in the fountain. he stood gazing with admiration at those bright eyes, those locks curled like the locks of bacchus or apollo, the rounded cheeks, the ivory neck, the parted lips, and the glow of health and exercise over all. he fell in love with himself. he brought his lips near to take a kiss; he plunged his arms in to embrace the beloved object. it fled at the touch, but returned again after a moment and renewed the fascination. he could not tear himself away; he lost all thought of food or rest, while he hovered over the brink of the fountain gazing upon his own image. he talked with the supposed spirit: "why, beautiful being, do you shun me? surely my face is not one to repel you. the nymphs love me, and you yourself look not indifferent upon me. when i stretch forth my arms you do the same; and you smile upon me and answer my beckonings with the like." his tears fell into the water and disturbed the image. as he saw it depart, he exclaimed, "stay, i entreat you! let me at least gaze upon you, if i may not touch you." with this, and much more of the same kind, he cherished the flame that consumed him, so that by degrees he lost his color, his vigor, and the beauty which formerly had so charmed the nymph echo. she kept near him, however, and when he exclaimed, "alas! alas!" she answered him with the same words. he pined away and died; and when his shade passed the stygian river, it leaned over the boat to catch a look of itself in the waters. the nymphs mourned for him, especially the water-nymphs; and when they smote their breasts, echo smote hers also. they prepared a funeral pile, and would have burned the body, but it was nowhere to be found; but in its place a flower, purple within, and surrounded with white leaves, which bears the name and preserves the memory of narcissus. milton alludes to the story of echo and narcissus in the lady's song in comus. she is seeking her brothers in the forest, and sings to attract their attention. "sweet echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen within thy aery shell by slow meander's margent green. and in the violet-embroidered vale, where the love-lorn nightingale nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well; canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair that likes thy narcissus are? oh, if thou have hid them in some flowery cave, tell me but where, sweet queen of parly, daughter of the sphere, so may'st thou be translated to the skies, and give resounding grace to all heaven's harmonies." milton has imitated the story of narcissus in the account which he makes eve give of the first sight of herself reflected in the fountain: "that day i oft remember when from sleep i first awaked, and found myself reposed under a shade on flowers, much wondering where and what i was, whence thither brought, and how not distant far from thence a murmuring sound of waters issued from a cave, and spread into a liquid plain, then stood unmoved pure as the expanse of heaven; i thither went with unexperienced thought, and laid me down on the green bank, to look into the clear smooth lake that to me seemed another sky. as i bent down to look, just opposite a shape within the watery gleam appeared, bending to look on me. i started back; it started back; but pleased i soon returned, pleased it returned as soon with answering looks of sympathy and love. there had i fixed mine eyes till now, and pined with vain desire, had not a voice thus warned me: 'what thou seest, what there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself.'" paradise lost, book iv the fable of narcissus is often alluded to by the poets. here are two epigrams which treat it in different ways. the first is by goldsmith: "on a beautiful youth struck blind by lightning: "sure 'twas by providence designed, rather in pity than in hate, that he should be like cupid blind, to save him from narcissus' fate" the other is by cowper: "on an ugly fellow "beware, my friend, of crystal brook or fountain, lest that hideous hook. thy nose, thou chance to see; narcissus' fate would then be thine, and self-detested thou would'st pine, as self-enamored he." clytie clytie was a water-nymph and in love with apollo, who made her no return. so she pined away, sitting all day long upon the cold ground, with her unbound tresses streaming over her shoulders. nine days she sat and tasted neither food nor drink, her own tears and the chilly dew her only food. she gazed on the sun when he rose, and as he passed through his daily course to his setting; she saw no other object, her face turned constantly on him. at last, they say, her limbs rooted in the ground, her face became a sunflower, which turns on its stem so as always to face the sun throughout its daily course; for it retains to that extent the feeling of the nymph from whom it sprang. one of the best known of the marble busts discovered in our own time, generally bears the name of clytie. it has been very frequently copied in plaster. it represents the head of a young girl looking down, the neck and shoulders being supported in the cup of a large flower, which by a little effort of imagination can be made into a giant sunflower. the latest supposition, however, is that this bust represented not clytie, but isis. hood in his flowers thus alludes to clytie: "i will not have the mad clytie, whose head is turned by the sun; the tulip is a courtly quean, whom therefore i will shun; the cowslip is a country wench, the violet is a nun; but i will woo the dainty rose, the queen of every one." the sunflower is a favorite emblem of constancy. thus moore uses it: "the heart that has truly loved never forgets, but as truly loves on to the close; as the sunflower turns on her god when he sets the same look that she turned when he rose." it is only for convenience that the modern poets translate the latin word heliotropium, by the english sunflower. the sunflower, which was known to the ancients, was called in greek, helianthos, from helios, the sun; and anthos a flower, and in latin, helianthus. it derives its name from its resemblance to the sun; but, as any one may see, at sunset, it does not "turn to the god when he sets the same look that it turned when he rose." the heliotrope of the fable of clytie is called turn-sole in old english books, and such a plant is known in england. it is not the sweet heliotrope of modern gardens, which is a south american plant. the true classical heliotrope is probably to be found in the heliotrope of southern france, a weed not known in america. the reader who is curious may examine the careful account of it in larousse's large dictionary. hero and leander leander was a youth of abydos, a town of the asian side of the strait which separates asia and europe. on the opposite shore in the town of sestos lived the maiden hero, a priestess of venus. leander loved her, and used to swim the strait nightly to enjoy the company of his mistress, guided by a torch which she reared upon the tower, for the purpose. but one night a tempest arose and the sea was rough; his strength failed, and he was drowned. the waves bore his body to the european shore, where hero became aware of his death, and in her despair cast herself down from the tower into the sea and perished. the following sonnet is by keats: "on a picture of leander "come hither, all sweet maidens, soberly, down looking aye, and with a chasten'd light, hid in the fringes of your eyelids white, and meekly let your fair hands joined be, as if so gentle that ye could not see, untouch'd, a victim of your beauty bright, sinking away to his young spirit's night, sinking bewilder'd 'mid the dreary sea. 'tis young leander toiling to his death. nigh swooning, he doth purse his weary lips for hero's cheek, and smiles against her smile. oh, horrid dream! see how his body dips dead-heavy; arms and shoulders gleam awhile; he's gone; up bubbles all his amorous breath!" the story of leander's swimming the hellespont was looked upon as fabulous, and the feat considered impossible, till lord byron proved its possibility by performing it himself. in the bride of abydos he says, "these limbs that buoyant wave hath borne." the distance in the narrowest part is almost a mile, and there is a constant current setting out from the sea of marmora into the archipelago. since byron's time the feat has been achieved by others; but it yet remains a test of strength and skill in the art of swimming sufficient to give a wide and lasting celebrity to any one of our readers who may dare to make the attempt and succeed in accomplishing it. in the beginning of the second canto of the same poem, byron alludes to this story: "the winds are high on helle's wave, as on that night of stormiest water, when love, who sent, forgot to save the young, the beautiful, the brave, the lonely hope of sestos' daughter. oh, when alone along the sky the turret-torch was blazing high, though rising gale and breaking foam, and shrieking sea-birds warned him home; and clouds aloft and tides below, with signs and sounds forbade to go, he could not see, he would not hear or sound or sight foreboding fear. his eye but saw that light of love, the only star it hailed above; his ear but rang with hero's song, 'ye waves, divide not lovers long.' that tale is old, but love anew may nerve young hearts to prove as true." the subject has been a favorite one with sculptors. schiller has made one of his finest ballads from the tragic fate of the two lovers. the following verses are a translation from the latter part of the ballad: "upon hellespont's broad currents night broods black, and rain in torrents from the cloud's full bosom pours; lightnings in the sky are flashing, all the storms below are dashing on the crag-piled shores. awful chasms gaping widely, separate the mountain waves; ocean yawning as to open downward e'en to pluto's caves." after the storm has arisen, hero sees the danger, and cries, "woe, ah! woe; great jove have pity, listen to my sad entreaty, yet for what can hero pray? should the gods in pity listen, he, e'en now the false abyss in, struggles with the tempest's spray. all the birds that skim the wave in hasty flight are hieing home; t the lee of safer haven all the storm-tossed vessels come. "ah! i know he laughs at danger, dares again the frequent venture, lured by an almighty power; for he swore it when we parted, with the vow which binds true-hearted lovers to the latest hour. yes! even as this moment hastens battles he the wave-crests rude, and to their unfathomed chasms dags him down the angry flood. "pontus false! thy sunny smile was the lying traitor's guile, like a mirror flashing there: all thy ripples gently playing til they triumphed in betraying him into thy lying snare. now in thy mid-current yonder, onward still his course he urges, thou the false, on him the fated pouring loose thy terror-surges. waxes high the tempest's danger, waves to mountains rise in anger, oceans swell, and breakers dash, foaming, over cliffs of rock where even navies, stiff with oak, could not bear the crash. in the gale her torch is blasted, beacon of the hoped-for strand; horror broods above the waters, horror broods above the land. prays she venus to assuage the hurricane's increasing rage, and to sooth the billows' scorn. and as gale on gale arises, vows to each as sacrifices spotless steer with gilded horn. to all the goddesses below, to "all the gods in heaven that be," she prays that oil of peace may flow softly on the storm-tossed sea. blest leucothea, befriend me! from cerulean halls attend me; hear my prayer of agony. in the ocean desert's raving, storm-tossed seamen, succor craving, find in thee their helper nigh. wrap him in thy charmed veil, secret spun and secret wove, certain from the deepest wave to lift him to its crests above." now the tempests wild are sleeping, and from the horizon creeping rays of morning streak the skies, peaceful as it lay before the placid sea reflects the shore, skies kiss waves and waves the skies. little ripples, lightly plashing, break upon the rock-bound strand, and they trickle, lightly playing o'er a corpse upon the sand. yes, 'tis he! although he perished, still his sacred troth he cherished, an instant's glance tells all to her; not a tear her eye lets slip not a murmur leaves her lip; down she looks in cold despair; gazes round the desert sea, trustless gazes round the sky, flashes then of noble fire through her pallid visage fly! "yes, i know, ye mighty powers, ye have drawn the fated hours pitiless and cruel on. early full my course is over. such a course with such a lover; such a share of joy i've known. venus, queen, within thy temple, thou hast known me vowed as thine, now accept thy willing priestess as an offering at thy shrine." downward then, while all in vain her fluttering robes would still sustain her, springs she into pontus' wave; grasping him and her, the god whirls them in his deepest flood, and, himself, becomes their grave. with his prizes then contented, peaceful bids his waters glide, from the unexhausted vessels, whence there streams an endless tide. chapter ix minerva and arachne. niobe. the story of perseus minerva, the goddess of wisdom, was the daughter of jupiter. she, they say, sprang forth from his brain full grown and clad in complete armor. she presided over the useful and ornamental arts, both those of men, such as agriculture and navigation, and those of women, spinning, weaving, and needle-work. she was also a warlike divinity; but a lover of defensive war only. she had no sympathy with mars's savage love of violence and bloodshed. athens was her chosen seat, her own city, awarded to her as the prize of a contest with neptune, who also aspired to it. the tale ran that in the reign of cecrops, the first king of athens, the two deities contended for the possession of the city. the gods decreed that it should be awarded to that one who produced the gift most useful to mortals. neptune gave the horse; minerva produced the olive. the gods gave judgment that the olive was the more useful of the two, and awarded the city to the goddess; and it was named after her, athens, her name in greek being athene. in another contest, a mortal dared to come in competition with minerva. that mortal was arachne, a maiden who had attained such skill in the arts of weaving and embroidery that the nymphs themselves would leave their groves and fountains to come and gaze upon her work. it was not only beautiful when it was done, but beautiful also in the doing. to watch her, as she took the wool in its rude state and formed it into rolls, or separated it with her fingers and carded it till it looked as light and soft as a cloud, or twirled the spindle with skilful touch, or wove the web, or, when woven, adorned it with her needle, one would have said that minerva herself had taught her. but this she denied, and could not bear to be thought a pupil even of a goddess. "let minerva try her skill with mine," said she; "if beaten, i will pay the penalty." minerva heard this and was displeased. assuming the form of an old woman, she went and gave arachne some friendly advice. "i have had much experience,: said she, "and i hope you will not despise my counsel. challenge your fellow-mortals as you will, but do not compete with a goddess. on the contrary, i advise you to ask her forgiveness for what you have said, and, as she is merciful, perhaps she will pardon you." arachne stopped her spinning, and looked at the old dame with anger in her countenance. "keep your counsel," said she, "for your daughters or handmaids; for my part, i know what i say, and i stand to it. i am not afraid of the goddess; let her try her skill, if she dare venture." "she comes," said minerva; and dropping her disguise, stood confessed. the nymphs bent low in homage, and all the bystanders paid reverence. arachne alone was unterrified. she blushed, indeed; a sudden color dyed her cheek, and then she grew pale. but she stood to her resolve, and with a foolish conceit of her own skill rushed on her fate. minerva forbore no longer, nor interposed any further advice. they proceed to the contest. each takes her station and attaches the web to the beam. then the slender shuttle is passed in and out among the threads. the reed with its fine teeth strikes up the woof into its place and compacts the web. both work with speed; their skilful hands move rapidly, and the excitement of the contest makes the labor light. wool of tyrian dye is contrasted with that of other colors, shaded off into one another so adroitly that the joining deceives the eye. like the bow, whose long arch tinges the heavens, formed by sunbeams reflected from the shower (this description of the rainbow is literally translated rom ovid), in which, where the colors meet they seem as one, but at a little distance from the point of contact are wholly different. minerva wrought on her web the scene of her contest with neptune. twelve of the heavenly powers are represented, jupiter, with august gravity, sitting in the midst. neptune, the ruler of the sea, holds his trident, and appears to have just smitten the earth, from which a horse has leaped forth. minerva depicted herself with helmed head, her aegis covering her breast. such was the central circle; and in the four corners were represented incidents illustrating the displeasure of the gods at such presumptuous mortals as had dared to contend with them. these were meant as warnings to her rival to give up the contest before it was too late. arachne filled her web with subjects designedly chosen to exhibit the failings and errors of the gods. one scene represented leda caressing the swan, under which form jupiter had disguised himself; and another, danae, in the brazen tower in which her father had imprisoned her, but where the god effected his entrance in the form of a shower of gold. still another depicted europa deceived by jupiter under the disguise of a bull. encouraged by the tameness of the animal, europa ventured to mount his back, whereupon jupiter advanced into the sea, and swam with her to crete. you would have thought it was a real bull so naturally was it wrought, and so natural was the water in which it swam. she seemed to look with longing eyes back upon the shore she was leaving, and to call to her companions for help. she appeared to shudder with terror at the sight of the heaving waves, and to draw back her feet from the water. arachne filled her canvas with these and like subjects, wonderfully well done, but strongly marking her presumption and impiety. minerva could not forbear to admire, yet felt indignant at the insult. she struck the web with her shuttle, and rent it in pieces; she then touched the forehead of arachne, and made her feel her guilt and shame. she could not endure it, and went and hanged herself. minerva pitied her as she saw her hanging by a rope. "live, guilty woman," said she; " and that you may preserve the memory of this lesson, continue to hang, you and your descendants, to all future times." she sprinkled her with the juices of aconite, and immediately her hair came off, and her nose and ears likewise. her form shrank up, and her head grew smaller yet; her fingers grew to her side, and served for legs. all the rest of her is body, out of which she spins her thread, often hanging suspended by it, in the same attitude as when minerva touched her and transformed her into a spider. spenser tells the story of arachne in his muiopotmos, adhering very closely to his master ovid, but improving upon him in the conclusion of the story. the two stanzas which follow tell what was done after the goddess had depicted her creation of the olive tree: "amongst these leaves she made a butterfly, with excellent device and wondrous slight, fluttering among the olives wantonly, that seemed to live, so like it was in sight; the velvet nap which on his wings doth lie, the silken down with which his back is dight, his broad outstretched horns, his hairy thighs, his glorious colors, and his glistening eyes." "which when arachne saw, as overlaid and mastered with workmanship so rare. she stood astonished long, ne aught gainsaid; and with fast-fixed eyes on her did stare, and by her silence, sign of one dismayed, the victory did yield her as her share; yet did she inly fret and felly burn, and all her blood to poisonous rancor turn." and so the metamorphosis is caused by arachne's own mortification and vexation, and not by any direct act of the goddess. the following specimen of old-fashioned gallantry is by garrick: upon a lady's embroidery "arachne once, as poets tell, a goddess at her art defied, and soon the daring mortal fell the hapless victim of her pride. "oh, then, beware arachne's fate; be prudent, chloe, and submit, for you'll most surely meet her hate, who rival both her art and wit." tennyson, in his palace of art, describing the works of art with which the palace was adorned, thus alludes to europa: "---- sweet europa's mantle blew unclasped from off her shoulder, backward borne, from one hand drooped a crocus, one hand grasped the mild bull's golden horn." in his princess there is this allusion to danae: "now lies the earth all danae to the stars, and all thy heart lies open unto me." niobe the fate of arachne was noised abroad through all the country, and served as a warning to all presumptuous mortals not to compare themselves with the divinities. but one, and she a matron too, failed to learn the lesson of humility. it was niobe, the queen of thebes. she had indeed much to be proud of; but it was not her husband's fame, nor her own beauty, nor their great descent, nor the power of their kingdom that elated her. it was her children; and truly the happiest of mothers would niobe have been, if only she had not claimed to be so. it was on occasion of the annual celebration in honor of latona and her offspring, apollo and diana, when the people of thebes were assembled, their brows crowned with laurel, bearing frankincense to the altars and paying their vows, that niobe appeared among the crowd. her attire was splendid with gold and gems, and her face as beautiful as the face of an angry woman can be. she stood and surveyed the people with haughty looks. "what folly," said she, "is this! to prefer beings whom you never saw to those who stand before your eyes! why should latona be honored with worship rather than i? my father was tantalus, who was received as a guest at the table of the gods; my mother was a goddess. my husband built and rules this city, thebes; and phrygia is my paternal inheritance. wherever i turn my eyes i survey the elements of my power; nor is my form and presence unworthy of a goddess. to all this let me add, i have seven sons and seven daughters, and look for sons-in-law and daughters-in- law of pretensions worthy of my alliance. have i not cause for pride? will you prefer to me this latona, the titan's daughter, with her two children? i have seven times as many. fortunate indeed am i, and fortunate i shall remain! will any one deny this? my abundance is my security. i feel myself too strong for fortune to subdue. she may take from me much; i shall still have much left. were i to lose some of my children, i should hardly be left as poor as latona with her two only. away with you from these solemnities, put off the laurel from your brows, have done with this worship!" the people obeyed, and left the sacred services uncompleted. the goddess was indignant. on top of mount cynthus where she dwelt, she thus addressed her son and daughter: "my children, i who have been so proud of you both, and have been used to hold myself second to none of the goddesses except juno alone, begin now to doubt whether i am indeed a goddess. i shall be deprived of my worship altogether unless you protect me." she was proceeding in this strain, but apollo interrupted her. "say no more," said he; "speech only delays punishment." so said diana also. darting through the air, veiled in clouds, they alighted on the towers of the city. spread out before the gates was a broad plain, where the youth of the city pursued their warlike sports. the sons of niobe were there among the rest, some mounted on spirited horses richly caparisoned, some driving gay chariots. ismenos, the first-born, as he guided his foaming steeds, struck with an arrow from above, cried out, "ah, me!" dropped the reins and fell lifeless. another, hearing the sound of the bow, like a boatman who sees the storm gathering and makes all sail for the port, gave the rein to his horses and attempted to escape. the inevitable arrow overtook him as he fled. two others, younger boys, just from their tasks, had gone to the playground to have a game of wrestling. as they stood breast to breast, one arrow pierced them both. they uttered a cry together, together cast a parting look around them, and together breathed their last. alphenor, an elder brother, seeing them fall, hastened to the spot to render them assistance, and fell stricken in the act of brotherly duty. one only was left, ilioneus. he raised his arms to heaven to try whether prayer might not avail. "spare me, ye gods!" he cried, addressing all, in his ignorance that all needed not his intercession; and apollo would have spared him, but the arrow had already left the string, and it was too late. the terror of the people and grief of the attendants soon made niobe acquainted with what had taken place. she could hardly think it possible; she was indignant that the gods had dared and amazed that they had been able to do it. her husband, amphion, overwhelmed with the blow, destroyed himself. alas! how different was this niobe from her who had so lately driven away the people from the sacred rites, and held her stately course through the city, the envy of her friends, now the pity even of her foes! she knelt over the lifeless bodies, and kissed, now one, now another of her dead sons. raising her pallid arms to heaven, "cruel latona," said she, "feed full your rage with my anguish! satiate your hard heart, while i follow to the grave my seven sons. yet where is your triumph? bereaved as i am, i am still richer than you, my conqueror. scarce had she spoken when the bow sounded and struck terror into all hearts except niobe's alone. she was brave from excess of grief. the sisters stood in garments of mourning over the biers of their dead brothers. one fell, struck by an arrow, and died on the corpse she was bewailing. another, attempting to console her mother, suddenly ceased to speak, and sank lifeless to the earth. a third tried to escape by flight, a fourth by concealment, another stood trembling, uncertain what course to take. six were now dead, and only one remained, whom the mother held clasped in her arms, and covered as it were with her whole body. "spare me one, and that the youngest! oh, spare me one of so many?!" she cried; and while she spoke, that one fell dead. desolate she sat, among sons, daughters, husband, all dead, and seemed torpid with grief. the breeze moved not her hair, nor color was on her cheek, her eyes glared fixed and immovable, there was no sign of life about her. her very tongue clave to the roof of her mouth, and her veins ceased to convey the tide of life. her neck bent not, her arms made no gesture, her foot no step. she was changed to stone, within and without. yet tears continued to flow; and, borne on a whirlwind to her native mountain, she still remains, a mass of rock, from which a trickling stream flows, the tribute of her never-ending grief. the story of niobe has furnished byron with a fine illustration of the fallen condition of modern rome: "the niobe of nations! there she stands, childless and crownless in her voiceless woe; an empty urn within her withered hands, whose holy dust was scattered long ago; the scipios' tomb contains no ashes now; the very sepulchres lie tenantless of their heroic dwellers; dost thou flow, old tiber! through a marble wilderness? rise with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress." childe harold, iv. the slaughter of the children of niobe by apollo, alludes to the greek belief that pestilence and illness were sent by apollo, and one dying by sickness was said to be struck by apollo's arrow. it is to this that morris alludes in the earthly paradise: "while from the freshness of his blue abode, glad his death-bearing arrows to forget, the broad sun blazed, nor scattered plagues as yet." our illustration of this story is a copy of a celebrated statue in the imperial gallery of florence. it is the principal figure of a group supposed to have been originally arranged in the pediment of a temple. the figure of the mother clasped by the arm of her terrified child, is one of the most admired of the ancient statues. it ranks with the laocoon and the apollo among the masterpieces of art. the following is a translation of a greek epigram supposed to relate to this statue: "to stone the gods have changed her, but in vain; the sculptor's art has made her breathe again." tragic as is the story of niobe we cannot forbear to smile at the use moore has made of it in rhymes on the road: "'twas in his carriage the sublime sir richard blackmore used to rhyme, and, if the wits don't do him wrong, 'twixt death and epics passed his time, scribbling and killing all day long; like phoebus in his car at ease, now warbling forth a lofty song, now murdering the young niobes." sir richard blackmore was a physician, and at the same time a very prolific and very tasteless poet, whose works are now forgotten, unless when recalled to mind by some wit like moore for the sake of a joke. the graeae and gorgons the graeae were three sisters who were gray-haired from their birth, whence their name. the gorgons were monstrous females with huge teeth like those of swine, brazen claws, and snaky hair. they also were three in number, two of them immortal, but the other, medusa, mortal. none of these beings make much figure in mythology except medusa, the gorgon, whose story we shall next advert to. we mention them chiefly to introduce an ingenious theory of some modern writers, namely, that the gorgons and graeae were only personifications of the terrors of the sea, the former denoting the strong billows of the wide open main, and the latter the white-crested waves that dash against the rocks of the coast. their names in greek signify the above epithets. perseus and medusa acrisius was the king who ruled in argos. to him had an oracle declared that he should be slain by the child of his daughter danae. therefore the cruel king, thinking it better that danae should have no children than that he should be slain, ordered a tower of brass to be made, and in this tower he confined his daughter away from all men. but who can withstand jupiter? he saw danae, loved her, and changing his form to a shower of gold, he shone into the apartment of the captive girl. perseus was the child of jupiter and danae. acrisius, finding that his precautions had come to nought, and yet hardly daring to kill his own daughter and her young child, placed them both in a chest and sent the chest floating on the sea. it floated away and was finally entangled in the net of dicte, a fisherman in the island of seriphus. he brought them to his house and treated them kindly, and in the house of dicte, perseus grew up. when perseus was grown up, polydectes, king of that country, wishing to send perseus to his death, bade him go in quest of the head of medusa. medusa had once been a beautiful maiden, whose hair was her chief glory, but as she dared to vie in beauty with minerva, the goddess deprived her of her charms and changed her beautiful ringlets into hissing serpents. she became a cruel monster of so frightful an aspect that no living thing could behold her without being turned into stone. all around the cavern where she dwelt might be seen the stony figures of men and beasts which had chanced to catch a glimpse of her and had been petrified with the sight. minerva and mercury aided perseus. from minerva, perseus borrowed her shield, and from mercury the winged shoes and the harpe or crooked sword. after having flown all over the earth perseus espied in the bright shield the image of medusa and her two immortal sisters. flying down carefully he cut at her with his harpe and severed her head. putting the trophy in his pouch he flew away just as the two immortal sisters were awakened by the hissings of their snaky locks. perseus and atlas after the slaughter of medusa, perseus, bearing with him the head of the gorgon, flew far and wide, over land and sea. as night came on, he reached the western limit of the earth, where the sun goes down. here he would gladly have rested till morning. it was the realm of king atlas, whose bulk surpassed that of all other men. he was rich in flocks and herds and had no neighbor or rival to dispute his state. but his chief pride was in his gardens, whose fruit was of gold, hanging from golden branches, half hid with golden leaves. perseus said to him, "i come as a guest. if you honor illustrious descent, i claim jupiter for my father; if mighty deeds, i plead the conquest of the gorgon. i seek rest and food." but atlas remembered that an ancient prophecy had warned him that a son of jove should one day rob him of his golden apples. so he answered, "begone! or neither your false claims of glory nor of parentage shall protect you;" and he attempted to thrust him out. perseus, finding the giant too strong for him, said, "since you value my friendship so little, deign to accept a present;" and turning his face away, he held up the gorgon's head. atlas, with all his bulk, was changed into stone. his beard and hair became forests, his arms and shoulders cliffs, his head a summit, and his bones rocks. each part increased in bulk till he became a mountain, and (such was the pleasure of the gods) heaven with all its stars rests upon his shoulders. and all in vain was atlas turned to a mountain, for the oracle did not mean perseus, but the hero hercules, who should come long afterwards to get the golden apples for his cousin eurystheus. perseus, continuing his flight, arrived at the country of the aethiopians, of which cepheus was king. cassiopeia, his queen, proud of her beauty, had dared to compare herself to the sea- nymphs, which roused their indignation to such a degree that they sent a prodigious sea-monster to ravage the coast. to appease the deities, cepheus was directed hy the oracle to expose his daughter andromeda to be devoured by the monster. as perseus looked down from his aerial height he beheld the virgin chained to a rock, and waiting the approach of the serpent. she was so pale and motionless that if it had not been for her flowing tears and her hair that moved in the breeze, he would have taken her for a marble statue. he was so startled at the sight that he almost forgot to wave his wings. as he hovered over her he said, "o virgin, undeserving of those chains, but rather of such as bind fond lovers together, tell me, i beseech you, your name and the name of your country, and why you are thus bound." at first she was silent from modesty, and, if she could, would have hid her face with her hands; but when he repeated his questions, for fear she might be thought guilty of some fault which she dared not tell, she disclosed her name and that of her country, and her mother's pride of beauty. before she had done speaking, a sound was heard off upon the water, and the sea-monster appeared, with his head raised above the surface, cleaving the waves with his broad breast. the virgin shrieked, the father and mother who had now arrived at the scene, wretched both, but the mother more justly so, stood by, not able to afford protection, but only to pour forth lamentations and to embrace the victim. then spoke perseus: "there will be time enough for tears; this hour is all we have for rescue. my rank as the son of jove and my renown as the slayer of the gorgon might make me acceptable as a suitor; but i will try to win her by services rendered, if the gods will only be propitious. if she be rescued by my valor, i demand that she be my reward." the parents consent (how could they hesitate?) and promise a royal dowry with her. and now the monster was within the range of a stone thrown by a skilful slinger, when with a sudden bound the youth soared into the air. as an eagle, when from his lofty flight he sees a serpent basking in the sun, pounces upon him and seizes him by the neck to prevent him from turning his head round and using his fangs, so the youth darted down upon the back of the monster and plunged his sword into its shoulder. irritated by the wound the monster raised himself into the air, then plunged into the depth; then, like a wild boar surrounded by a pack of barking dogs, turned swiftly from side to side, while the youth eluded its attacks by means of his wings. wherever he can find a passage for his sword between the scales he makes a wound, piercing now the side, now the flank, as it slopes towards the tail. the brute spouts from his nostrils water mixed with blood. the wings of the hero are wet with it, and he dares no longer trust to them. alighting on a rock which rose above the waves, and holding on by a projecting fragment, as the monster floated near he gave him a death-stroke. the people who had gathered on the shore shouted so that the hills re-echoed to the sound. the parents, transported with joy, embraced their future son-in-law, calling him their deliverer and the savior of their house, and the virgin, both cause and reward of the contest, descended from the rock. cassiopeia was an aethiopian, and consequently, in spite of her boasted beauty, black; at least so milton seems to have thought, who alludes to this story in his penseroso, where he addresses melancholy as the "---- goddess, sage and holy, whose saintly visage is too bright to hit the sense of human sight, and, therefore, to our weaker view o'erlaid with black, staid wisdom's hue. black, but such as in esteem prince memnon's sister might beseem, or that starred aethiop queen that strove to set her beauty's praise above the sea-nymphs, and their powers offended." cassiopeia is called "the starred aethiop queen," because after her death she was placed among the stars, forming the constellation of that name. though she attained this honor, yet the sea-nymphs, her old enemies, prevailed so far as to cause her to be placed in that part of the heaven near the pole, where every night she is half the time held with her head downward, to give her a lesson of humility. "prince memnon" was the son of aurora and tithonus, of whom we shall hear later. the wedding feast the joyful parents, with perseus and andromeda, repaired to the palace, where a banquet was spread for them, and all was joy and festivity. but suddenly a noise was heard of war-like clamor, and phineus, the betrothed of the virgin, with a party of his adherents, burst in, demanding the maiden as his own. it was in vain that cepheus remonstrated, "you should have claimed her when she lay bound to the rock, the monster's victim. the sentence of the gods dooming her to such a fate dissolved all engagements, as death itself would have done.:" phineus made no reply, but hurled his javelin at perseus, but it missed its mark and fell harmless. perseus would have thrown his in turn, but the cowardly assailant ran and took shelter behind the altar. but his act was a signal for an onset by his band upon the guests of cepheus. they defended themselves and a general conflict ensued, the old king retreating from the scene after fruitless expostulations, calling the gods to witness that he was guiltless of this outrage on the rights of hospitality. perseus and his friends maintained for some time the unequal contest; but the numbers of the assailants were too great for them, and destruction seemed inevitable, when a sudden thought struck perseus: "i will make my enemy defend me." then, with a loud voice he exclaimed, :if i have any friend here let him turn away his eyes!" and held aloft the gorgon's head. "seek not to frighten us with your jugglery," said thescelus, and raised his javelin in act to throw, and became stone in the very attitude. ampyx was about to plunge his sword into the body of a prostrate foe, but his arm stiffened and he could neither thrust forward nor withdraw it. another, in the midst of a vociferous challenge, stopped, his mouth open, but no sound issuing. one of perseus's friends, aconteus, caught sight of the gorgon and stiffened like the rest. astyages struck him with his sword, but instead of wounding, it recoiled with a ringing noise. phineus beheld this dreadful result of his unjust aggression, and felt confounded. he called aloud to his friends, but got no answer; he touched them and found them stone. falling on his knees and stretching out his hands to perseus, but turning his head away, he begged for mercy. "take all," said he, "give me but my life." "base coward," said perseus, "thus much i will grant you; no weapon shall touch you; moreover you shall be preserved in my house as a memorial of these events." so saying, he held the gorgon's head to the side where phineus was looking, and in the very form in which he knelt, with his hands outstretched and face averted, he became fixed immovably, a mass of stone! the following allusion to perseus is from milman's samor: "as 'mid the fabled libyan bridal stood perseus in stern tranquillity of wrath, half stood, half floated on his ankle-plumes out-swelling, while the bright face on his shield looked into stone the raging fray; so rose, but with no magic arms, wearing alone th' appalling and control of his firm look, the briton samor; at his rising awe went abroad, and the riotous hall was mute." then perseus returned to seriphus to king polydectes and to his mother danae and the fisherman dicte. he marched up the tyrant's hall, where polydectes and his guests were feasting. "have you the head of medusa?" exclaimed polydectes. "here it is," answered perseus, and showed it to the king and to his guests. the ancient prophecy which acrisius had so much feared at last came to pass. for, as perseus was passing through the country of larissa, he entered into competition with the youths of the country at the game of hurling the discus. king acrisius was among the spectators. the youths of larissa threw first, and then perseus. his discus went far beyond the others, and, seized by a breeze from the sea, fell upon the foot of acrisius. the old king swooned with pain, and was carried away from the place only to die. perseus, who had heard the story of his birth and parentage from danae, when he learned who acrisius was, filled with remorse and sorrow, went to the oracle at delphi, and there was purified from the guilt of homicide. perseus gave the head of medusa to minerva, who had aided him so well to obtain it. minerva took the head of her once beautiful rival and placed it in the middle of her aegis. milton, in his comus, thus alludes to the aegis: "what was that snaky-headed gorgon-shield that wise minerva wore, unconquered virgin, wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone, but rigid looks of chaste austerity, and noble grace that dashed brute violence with sudden adoration and blank awe!" armstrong, the poet of the art of preserving health, thus describes the effect of frost upon the waters: "now blows the surly north and chills throughout the stiffening regions, while by stronger charms than circe e'er or fell medea brewed, each brook that wont to prattle to its banks lies all bestilled and wedged betwixt its banks, nor moves the withered reeds. . . . the surges baited by the fierce northeast, tossing with fretful spleen their angry heads, e'en in the foam of all their madness struck to monumental ice. * * * * * such execution, so stern, so sudden, wrought the grisly aspect of terrible medusa, when wandering through the woods she turned to stone their savage tenants; just as the foaming lion sprang furious on his prey, her speedier power outran his haste, and fixed in that fierce attitude he stands like rage in marble!" imitations of shakespeare of atlas there is another story, which i like better than the one told. he was one of the titans who warred against jupiter like typhoeus, briareus, and others. after their defeat by the king of gods and men, atlas was condemned to stand in the far western part of the earth, by the pillars of hercules, and to hold on his shoulders the weight of heaven and the stars. the story runs that perseus, flying by, asked and obtained rest and food. the next morning he asked what he could do to reward atlas for his kindness. the best that giant could think of was that perseus should show him the snaky head of medusa, that he might be turned to stone and be at rest from his heavy load. chapter x monsters. giants. sphinx. pegasus and the chimaera. centaurs. griffin. pygmies monsters, in the language of mythology, were beings of unnatural proportions or parts, usually regarded with terror, as possessing immense strength and ferocity, which they employed for the injury and annoyance of men. some of them were supposed to combine the members of different animals; such were the sphinx and the chimaera; and to these all the terrible qualities of wild beasts were attributed, together with human sagacity and faculties. others, as the giants, differed from men chiefly in their size; and in this particular we must recognize a wide distinction among them. the human giants, if so they may be called, such as the cyclopes, antaeus, orion, and others, must be supposed not to be altogether disproportioned to human beings, for they mingled in love and strife with them. but the superhuman giants, who warred with the gods, were of vastly larger dimensions. tityus, we are told, when stretched on the plain, covered nine acres, and enceladus required the whole of mount aetna to be laid upon him to keep him down. we have already spoken of the war which the giants waged against the gods, and of its result. while this war lasted the giants proved a formidable enemy. some of them, like briareus, had a hundred arms; others, like typhon, breathed out fire. at one time they put the gods to such fear that they fled into egypt, and hid themselves under various forms. jupiter took the form of a ram, whence he was afterwards worshipped in egypt as the god ammon, with curved horns. apollo became a crow, bacchus a goat, diana a cat, juno a cow, venus a fish, mercury a bird. at another time the giants attempted to climb up into heaven, and for that purpose took up the mountain ossa and piled it on pelion. they were at last subdued by thunderbolts, which minerva invented, and taught vulcan and his cyclopes to make for jupiter. the sphinx laius, king of thebes, was warned by an oracle that there was danger to his throne and life if his new-born son should be suffered to grow up. he therefore committed the child to the care of a herdsman, with orders to destroy him; but the herdsman, moved to pity, yet not daring entirely to disobey, tied up the child by the feet, and left him hanging to the branch of a tree. here the infant was found by a herdsman of polybus, king of corinth, who was pasturing his flock upon mount cithaeron. polybus and merope, his wife, adopted the child, whom they called oedipus, or swollen-foot, for they had no children themselves, and in corinth oedipus grew up. but as oedipus was at delphi, the oracle prophesied to him that he should kill his father and marry his own mother. fighting against fate, oedipus resolved to leave corinth and his parents, for he thought that polybus and merope were meant by the oracle. soon afterwards, laius being on his way to delphi, accompanied only by one attendant, met in a narrow road a young man also driving in a chariot. on his refusal to leave the way at their command, the attendant killed one of his horses, and the stranger, filled with rage, slew both laius and his attendant. the young man was oedipus, who thus unknowingly became the slayer of his own father. shortly after this event the city of thebes was afflicted with a monster which infested the high-road. it was called the sphinx. it had the body of a lion, and the upper part of a woman. it lay crouched on the top of a rock, and stopped all travellers who came that way, proposing to them a riddle, with the condition that those who could solve it should pass safe, but those who failed should be killed. not one had yet succeeded in solving it, and all had been slain. oedipus was not daunted by these alarming accounts, but boldly advanced to the trial. the sphinx asked him, "what animal is that which in the morning goes on four feet, at noon on two, and in the evening upon three?" oedipus replied, "man, who in childhood creeps on hands and knees, in manhood walks erect, and in old age with the aid of a staff." the sphinx was so mortified at the solving of her riddle that she cast herself down from the rock and perished. the gratitude of the people for their deliverance was so great that they made oedipus their king, giving him in marriage their queen jocasta. oedipus, ignorant of his parentage, had already become the slayer of his father; in marrying the queen he became the husband of his mother. these horrors remained undiscovered, till at length thebes was afflicted with famine and pestilence, and the oracle being consulted, the double crime of oedipus came to light. jocasta put an end to her own life, and oedipus, seized with madness, tore out his eyes, and wandered away from thebes, dreaded and abandoned hy all except his daughters, who faithfully adhered to him; till after a tedious period of miserable wandering, he found the termination of his wretched life. pegasus and the chimaera when perseus cut off medusa's head, the blood sinking into the earth produced the winged horse pegasus. minerva caught and tamed him, and presented him to the muses. the fountain hippocrene, on the muses' mountain helicon, was opened by a kick from his hoof. the chimaera was a fearful monster, breathing fire. the fore part of its body was a compound of the lion and the goat, and the hind part a dragon's. it made great havoc in lycia, so that the king iobates sought for some hero to destroy it. at that time there arrived at his court a gallant young warrior, whose name was bellerophon. he brought letters from proetus, the son-in-law of iobates, recommending bellerophon in the warmest terms as an unconquerable hero, but added at the close a request to his father-in-law to put him to death. the reason was that proetus was jealous of him, suspecting that his wife antea looked with too much admiration on the young warrior. from this instance of bellerophon being unconsciously the bearer of his own death- warrant, the expression "bellerophontic letters" arose, to describe any species of communication which a person is made the bearer of, containing matter prejudicial to himself. iobates, on perusing the letters, was puzzled what to do, not willing to violate the claims of hospitality, yet wishing to oblige his son-in-law. a lucky thought occurred to him, to send bellerophon to combat with the chimaera. bellerophon accepted the proposal, but before proceeding to the combat consulted the soothsayer polyidus, who advised him to procure if possible the horse pegasus for the conflict. for this purpose he directed him to pass the night in the temple of minerva. he did so, and as he slept minerva came to him and gave him a golden bridle. when he awoke the bridle remained in his hand. minerva also showed him pegasus drinking at the well of pirene, and at sight of the bridle, the winged steed came willingly and suffered himself to be taken. bellerophon mounting, rose with him into the air, and soon found the chimaera, and gained an easy victory over the monster. after the conquest of the chimaera, bellerophon was exposed to further trials and labors by his unfriendly host, but by the aid of pegasus he triumphed in them all; till at length iobates, seeing that the hero was a special favorite of the gods, gave him his daughter in marriage and made him his successor on the throne. at last bellerophon by his pride and presumption drew upon himself the anger of the gods; it is said he even attempted to fly up into heaven on his winged steed; but jupiter sent a gadfly which stung pegasus and made him throw his rider, who became lame and blind in consequence. after this bellerophon wandered lonely through the aleian field, avoiding the paths of men, and died miserably. milton alludes to bellerophon in the beginning o the seventh book of paradise lost: "descend from heaven, urania, by that name if rightly thou art called, whose voice divine following above the olympian hill i soar, above the flight of pegasean wing, up-led by thee, into the heaven of heavens i have presumed, an earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air, (thy tempering;) with like safety guided down return me to my native element; lest from this flying steed unreined, (as once bellerophon, though from a lower sphere,) dismounted on the aleian field i fall, erroneous there to wander, and forlorn." young in his night thoughts, speaking of the skeptic, says, "he whose blind thought futurity denies, unconscious bears, bellerophon, like thee his own indictment; he condemns himself, who reads his bosom reads immortal life, or nature there, imposing on her sons, has written fables; man was made a lie." vol. ii. , . pegasus, being the horse of the muses, has always been at the service of the poets. schiller tells a pretty story of his having been sold by a needy poet, and put to the cart and the plough. he was not fit for such service, and his clownish master could make nothing of him. but a youth stepped forth and asked leave to try him. as soon as he was seated on his back, the horse, which had appeared at first vicious, and afterwards spirit-broken, rose kingly, a spirit, a god; unfolded the splendor of his wings and soared towards heaven. our own poet longfellow also records an adventure of this famous steed in his pegasus in pound. shakespeare alludes to pegasus in henry iv, where vernon describes prince henry: "i saw young harry, with his beaver on, his cuishes on his thighs, gallantly armed, rise from the ground like feathered mercury, and vaulted with such ease into his seat, as if an angel dropped down from the clouds, to turn and wind a fiery pegasus, and witch the world with noble horsemanship." the centaurs the greeks loved to people their woods and hills with strange wild people, half man, half beast. such were the satyrs men with goats' legs. but nobler and better were the centaurs, men to the waist, while the rest was the form of a horse. the ancients were too fond of a horse to consider the union of his nature with man's as forming any very degraded compound, and accordingly the centaur is the only one of the fancied monsters of antiquity to which any good traits are assigned. the centaurs were admitted to the companionship of man, and at the marriage of pirithous with hippodamia, they were among the guests. at the feast, eurytion, one of the centaurs, becoming intoxicated with the wine, attempted to offer violence to the bride; the other centaurs followed his example, and a dreadful conflict arose in which several of them were slain. this is the celebrated battle of the lapithae and centaurs, a favorite subject with the sculptors and poets of antiquity. but all the centaurs were not like the rude guests of pirithous. chiron was instructed by apollo and diana, and was renowned for his skill in hunting, medicine, music, and the art of prophecy. the most distinguished heroes of grecian story were his pupils. among the rest the infant aesculapius was intrusted to his charge, by apollo, his father. when the sage returned to his home bearing the infant, his daughter ocyroe came forth to meet him, and at sight of the child burst forth into a prophetic strain (for she was a prophetess), foretelling the glory that he was to achieve. aesculapius, when grown up, became a renowned physician, and even in one instance succeeded in restoring the dead to life. pluto resented this, and jupiter, at his request, struck the bold physician with lightning and killed him, but after his death received him into the number of the gods. chiron was the wisest and justest of all the centaurs, and at his death jupiter placed him among the stars as the constellation sagittarius. the pygmies the pygmies were a nation of dwarfs, so called from a greek word which means the cubit (a cubit was a measure of about thirteen inches), which was said to be the height of these people. they lived near the sources of the nile, or according to others, in india. homer tells us that the cranes used to migrate every winter to the pygmies' country, and their appearance was the signal of bloody warfare to the puny inhabitants, who had to take up arms to defend their cornfields against the rapacious strangers. the pygmies and their enemies the cranes form the subject of several works of art. later writers tell of an army of pygmies which finding hercules asleep made preparations to attack him, as if they were about to attack a city. but the hero awaking laughed at the little warriors, wrapped some of them up in his lion's-skin, and carried them to eurystheus. milton used the pygmies for a simile, paradise lost, book i: "----like that pygmaean race beyond the indian mount, or fairy elves whose midnight revels by a forest side, or fountain, some belated peasant sees, (or dreams he sees), while overhead the moon sits artibress, and nearer to the earth wheels her pale course; they on their mirth and dance intent, with jocund music charm his ear. at once with joy and fear his heart rebounds." the griffin, or gryphon the griffin is a monster with the body of a lion, the head and wings of an eagle, and back covered with feathers. like birds it builds its nest, and instead of an egg lays an agate therein. it has long claws and talons of such a size that the people of that country make them into drinking-cups. india was assigned as the native country of the griffins. they found gold in the mountains and built their nests of it, for which reason their nests were very tempting to the hunters, and they were forced to keep vigilant guard over them. their instinct led them to know where buried treasures lay, and they did their best to keep plunderers at a distance. the arimaspians, among whom the griffins flourished, were a one-eyed people of scythia. milton borrows a simile from the griffins, paradise lost, book ii.: "as when a gryphon through the wilderness, with winged course, o'er hill and moory dale, pursues the arimaspian who by stealth hath from his wakeful custody purloined his guarded gold." chapter xi the golden fleece. medea. the calydonian hunt in very ancient times there lived in thessaly a king and queen named athamas and nephele. they had two children, a boy and a girl. after a time athamas grew indifferent to his wife, put her away, and took another. nephele suspected danger to her children from the influence of the step-mother, and took measures to send them out of her reach. mercury assisted her, and gave her a ram, with a golden fleece, on which she set the two children, trusting that the ram would convey them to a place of safety. the ram sprung into the air with the children on his back, taking his course to the east, till when crossing the strait that divides europe and asia, the girl, whose name was helle, fell from his back into the sea, which from her was called the hellespont, now the dardanelles. the ram continued his career till he reached the kingdom of colchis, on the eastern shore of the black sea, where he safely landed the boy phyrxus, who was hospitably received by aeetes, the king of the country. phryxus sacrificed the ram to jupiter, and gave the golden fleece to aeetes, who placed it in a consecrated grove, under the care of a sleepless dragon. there was another kingdom in thessaly near to that of athamas, and ruled over by a relative of his. the king aeson, being tired of the cares of government, surrendered his crown to his brother pelias, on condition that he should hold it only during the minority of jason, the son of aeson. when jason was grown up and came to demand the crown from his uncle, pelias pretended to be willing to yield it, but at the same time suggested to the young man the glorious adventure of going in quest of the golden fleece, which it was well known was in the kingdom of colchis, and was, as pelias pretended, the rightful property of their family. jason was pleased with the thought, and forthwith made preparations for the expedition. at that time the only species of navigation known to the greeks consisted of small boats or canoes hollowed out from trunks of trees, so that when jason employed argus to build him a vessel capable of containing fifty men, it was considered a gigantic undertaking. it was accomplished, however, and the vessel was named the argo, from the name of the builder. jason sent his invitation to all the adventurous young men of greece, and soon found himself at the head of a band of bold youths, many of whom afterwards were renowned among the heroes and demigods of greece. hercules, theseus, orpheus, and nestor were among them. they are called the argonauts, from the name of their vessel. the argo with her crew of heroes left the shores of thessaly and having touched at the island of lemnos, thence crossed to mysia and thence to thrace. here they found the sage phineus, and from him received instruction as to their future course. it seems the entrance of the euxine sea was impeded by two small rocky islands, which floated on the surface, and in their tossings and heavings occasionally came together, crushing and grinding to atoms any object that might be caught between them. they were called the symplegades, or clashing islands. phineus instructed the argonauts how to pass this dangerous strait. when they reached the islands they let go a dove, which took her way between the rocks, and passed in safety, only losing some feathers of her tail. jason and his men seized the favorable moment of the rebound, plied their oars with vigor, and passed safe through, though the islands closed behind them, and actually grazed their stern. they now rowed along the shore till they arrived at the eastern end of the sea, and landed at the kingdom of colchis. jason made known his message to the colchian king, aeetes, who consented to give up the golden fleece if jason would yoke to the plough two fire-breathing bulls with brazen feet, and sow the teeth of the dragon, which cadmus had slain, and from which it was well known that a crop of armed men would spring up, who would turn their weapons against their producer. jason accepted the conditions, and a time was set for making the experiment. previously, however, he found means to plead his cause to medea, daughter of the king. he promised her marriage, and as they stood before the altar of hecate, called the goddess to witness his oath. medea yielded and by her aid, for she was a potent sorceress, he was furnished with a charm, by which he could encounter safely the breath of the fire-breathing bulls and the weapons of the armed men. at the time appointed, the people assembled at the grove of mars, and the king assumed his royal seat, while the multitude covered the hill-sides. the brazen-footed bulls rushed in, breathing fire from their nostrils, that burned up the herbage as they passed. the sound was like the roar of a furnace, and the smoke like that of water upon quick-lime. jason advanced boldly to meet them. his friends, the chosen heroes of greece, trembled to behold him. regardless of the burning breath, he soothed their rage with his voice, patted their necks with fearless hands, and adroitly slipped over them the yoke, and compelled them to drag the plough. the colchians were amazed; the greeks shouted for joy. jason next proceeded to sow the dragon's teeth and plough them in. and soon the crop of armed men sprang up, and wonderful to relate! no sooner had they reached the surface than they began to brandish their weapons and rush upon jason. the greeks trembled for their hero, and even she who had provided him a way of safety and taught him how to use it, medea herself, grew pale with fear. jason for a time kept his assailants at bay with his sword and shield, till finding their numbers overwhelming, he resorted to the charm which medea had taught him, seized a stone and threw it in the midst of his foes. they immediately turned their arms against one another, and soon there was not one of the dragon's brood left alive. the greeks embraced their hero, and medea, if she dared, would have embraced him too. then aeetes promised the next day to give them the fleece, and the greeks went joyfully down to the argo with the hero jason in their midst. but that night medea came down to jason, and bade him make haste and follow her, for that her father proposed the next morning to attack the argonauts and to destroy their ship. they went together to the grove of mars, where the golden fleece hung guarded by the dreadful dragon, who glared at the hero and his conductor with his great round eyes that never slept. but medea was prepared, and began her magic songs and spells, and sprinkled over him a sleeping potion which she had prepared by her art. at the smell he relaxed his rage, stood for a moment motionless, then shut those great round eyes, that had never been known to shut before, and turned over on his side, fast asleep. jason seized the fleece, and with his friends and medea accompanying, hastened to their vessel, before aeetes, the king, could arrest their departure, and made the best of their way back to thessaly, where they arrived safe, and jason delivered the fleece to pelias, and dedicated the argo to neptune. what became of the fleece afterwards we do not know, but perhaps it was found, after all, like many other golden prizes, not worth the trouble it had cost to procure it. this is one of those mythological tales, says a modern writer, in which there is reason to believe that a substratum of truth exists, though overlaid by a mass of fiction. it probably was the first important maritime expedition, and like the first attempts of the kind of all nations, as we know from history, was probably of a half-piratical character. if rich spoils were the result, it was enough to give rise to the idea of the golden fleece. another suggestion of a learned mythologist, bryant, is that it is a corrupt tradition of the story of noah and the ark. the name argo seems to countenance this, and the incident of the dove is another confirmation. pope, in his ode on st. cecelia's day, thus celebrates the launching of the ship argo, and the power of the music of orpheus, whom he calls the thracian: "so when the first bold vessel dared the seas, high on the stern the thracian raised his strain, while argo saw her kindred trees descend from pelion to the main. transported demigods stood round, and men grew heroes at the sound." in dyer's poem of the fleece there is an account of the ship argo and her crew, which gives a good picture of this primitive maritime adventure: "from every region of aegea's shore the brave assembled; those illustrious twins, castor and pollux; orpheus, tuneful bard; zetes and calais, as the wind in speed; strong hercules and many a chief renowned. on deep iolcos' sandy shore they thronged, gleaming in armor, ardent of exploits; and soon, the laurel cord and the huge stone uplifting to the deck, unmoored the bark; whose keel of wondrous length the skilful hand of argus fashioned for the proud attempt; and in the extended keel a lofty mast upraised, and sails full swelling; to the chiefs unwonted objects. now first, now they learned their bolder steerage over ocean wave, led by the golden stars, as chiron's art had marked the sphere celestial." hercules left the expedition at mysia, for hylas, a youth beloved by him, having gone for water, was laid hold of and kept by the nymphs of the spring, who were fascinated by his beauty. hercules went in quest of the lad, and while he was absent the argo put to sea and left him. moore, in one of his songs, makes a beautiful allusion to this incident: "when hylas was sent with his urn to the fount, through fields full of light and with heart full of play, light rambled the boy over meadow and mount, and neglected his task for the flowers in the way. "thus many like me, who in youth should have tasted the fountain that runs by philosophy's shrine, their time with the flowers on the margin have wasted, and left their light urns all as empty as mine." but hercules, as some say, went onward to colchis by land, and there performed many mighty deeds, and wiped away the stain of cowardice which might have clung to him. medea and aeson amid the rejoicings for the recovery of the golden fleece, jason felt that one thing was wanting, the presence of aeson, his father, who was prevented by his age and infirmities from taking part in them. jason said to medea, "my wife, i would that your arts, whose power i have seen so mighty for my aid, could do me one further service, and take some years from my life to add them to my father's." medea replied, "not at such a cost shall it be done, but if my art avails me, his life shall be lengthened without abridging yours." the next full moon she issued forth alone, while all creatures slept; not a breath stirred the foliage, and all was still. to the stars she addressed her incantations, and to the moon; to hecate (hecate was a mysterious divinity sometimes identified with diana and sometimes with proserpine. as diana represents the moonlight splendor of night, so hecate represents its darkness and terrors. she was the goddess of sorcery and witchcraft, and was believed to wander by night along the earth, seen only by the dogs whose barking told her approach.), the goddess of the underworld, and to tellus, the goddess of the earth, by whose power plants potent for enchantments are produced. she invoked the gods of the woods and caverns, of mountains and valleys, of lakes and rivers, of winds and vapors. while she spoke the stars shone brighter, and presently a chariot descended through the air, drawn by flying serpents. she ascended it, and, borne aloft, made her way to distant regions, where potent plants grew which she knew how to select for her purpose. nine nights she employed in her search, and during that time came not within the doors of her palace nor under any roof, and shunned all intercourse with mortals. she next erected two altars, the one to hecate, the other to hebe, the goddess of youth, and sacrificed a black sheep, pouring libations of milk and wine. she implored pluto and his stolen bride that they would not hasten to take the old man's life. then she directed that aeson should be led forth, and having thrown him into a deep sleep by a charm, had him laid on a bed of herbs, like one dead. jason and all others were kept away from the place, that no profane eyes might look upon her mysteries. then, with streaming hair, she thrice moved round the altars, dipped flaming twigs in the blood, and laid them thereon to burn. meanwhile the caldron with its contents was got ready. in it she put magic herbs, with seeds and flowers of acrid juice, stones from the distant east, and sand from the shore of all-surrounding ocean; hoar frost, gathered by moonlight, a screech-owl's head and wings, and the entrails of a wolf. she added fragments of the shells of tortoises, and the liver of stags, animals tenacious of life, and the head and beak of a crow, that outlives nine generations of men. these, with many other things without a name, she boiled together for her purposed work, stirring them up with a dry olive branch; and behold, the branch when taken out instantly became green, and before long was covered with leaves and a plentiful growth of young olives; and as the liquor boiled and bubbled, and sometimes ran over, the grass, wherever the sprinklings fell, shot forth with a verdure like that of spring. seeing that all was ready, medea cut the throat of the old man and let out all his blood, and poured into his mouth and into his wound the juices of her caldron. as soon as he had completely imbibed them, his hair and beard laid by their whiteness and assumed the blackness of youth; his paleness and emaciation were gone; his veins were full of blood, his limbs of vigor and robustness. aeson is amazed at himself, and remembers that such as he now is he was in his youthful days, forty years before. medea used her arts here for a good purpose, but not so in another instance, where she made them the instruments of revenge. pelias, our readers will recollect, was the usurping uncle of jason, and had kept him out of his kingdom. yet he must have had some good qualities, for his daughters loved him, and when they saw what medea had done for aeson, they wished her to do the same for their father. medea pretended to consent, and prepared her caldron as before. at her request an old sheep was brought and plunged into the caldron. very soon a bleating was heard in the kettle, and, when the cover was removed, a lamb jumped forth and ran frisking away into the meadow. the daughters of pelias saw the experiment with delight, and appointed a time for their father to undergo the same operation. but medea prepared her caldron for him in a very different way. she put in only water and a few simple herbs. in the night she with the sisters entered the bed-chamber of the old king, while he and his guards slept soundly under the influence of a spell cast upon them by medea. the daughters stood by the bedside with their weapons drawn, but hesitated to strike, till medea chid their irresolution. then, turning away their faces and giving random blows, they smote him with their weapons. he, starting from his sleep, cried out, "my daughters, what are you doing? will you kill your father?:" their hearts failed them, and the weapons fell from their hands, but medea struck him a fatal blow, and prevented his saying more. then they placed him in the caldron, and medea hastened to depart in her serpent-drawn chariot before they discovered her treachery, for their vengeance would have been terrible. she escaped, however, but had little enjoyment of the fruits of her crime. jason, for whom she had done so much, wishing to marry creusa, princess of corinth, put away medea. she, enraged at his ingratitude, called on the gods for vengeance, sent a poisoned robe as a gift to the bride, and then killing her own children, and setting fire to the palace, mounted her serpent-drawn chariot and fled to athens, where she married king aegeus, the father of theseus; and we shall meet her again when we come to the adventures of that hero. the incantations of medea will remind the reader of those of the witches in macbeth. the following lines are those which seem most strikingly to recall the ancient model: "round about the caldron go; in the poisoned entrails throw. * * * * * * fillet of a fenny snake in the caldron boil and bake; eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog. adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, lizard's leg and howlet's wing: * * * * * * maw of ravening salt-sea shark, root of hemlock digged in the dark." macbeth, act iv., scene and again: macbeth. what is't you do? witches. a deed without a name. there is another story of medea almost too revolting for record even of a sorceress, a class of persons to whom both ancient and modern poets have been accustomed to attribute every degree of atrocity. in her flight from colchis she had taken her young brother absyrtus with her. finding the pursuing vessels of aeetes gaining upon the argonauts, she caused the lad to be killed and his limbs to be strewn over the sea. aeetes on reaching the place found these sorrowful traces of his murdered son; but while he tarried to collect the scattered fragments and bestow upon them an honorable interment, the argonauts escaped. in the poems of campbell will be found a translation of one of the choruses of the tragedy of medea, where the poet euripides has taken advantage of the occasion to pay a glowing tribute to athens, his native city. it begins thus: "oh, haggard queen! to athens dost thou guide thy glowing chariot, steeped in kindred gore; or seek to hide thy damned parricide where peace and justice dwell for evermore?" the calydonian hunt. meleager and atalanta the search for the golden fleece was undertaken by jason, aided by heroes from all greece, or hellas as it was then called. it was the first of their common undertakings which made the greeks feel that they were in truth one nation, though split up into many small kingdoms. another of their great gatherings was for the calydonian hunt, and another, the greatest and most famous of all, for the trojan war. the hero of the quest for the golden fleece was jason. with the other heroes of the greeks, he was present at the calydonian hunt. but the chief hero was meleager, the son of oeneus, king of calydon, and althea, his queen. althea, when her son was born, beheld the three destinies, who, as they spun their fatal thread, foretold that the life of the child should last no longer than a brand then burning upon the hearth. althea seized and quenched the brand, and carefully preserved it for years, while meleager grew to boyhood, youth, and manhood. it chanced, then, that oeneus, as he offered sacrifices to the gods, omitted to pay due honors to diana, and she, indignant at the neglect, sent a wild boar of enormous size to lay waste the files of calydon. its eyes shone with blood and fire, its bristles stood like threatening spears, its tusks were like those of indian elephants. the growing corn was trampled, the vines and olive trees laid waste, the flocks and herds were driven in wild confusion by the slaughtering foe. all common aid seemed vain; but meleager called on the heroes of greece to join in a bold hunt for the ravenous monster. theseus and his friend pirithous, jason, peleus afterwards the father of achilles, telamon the father of ajax, nestor, then a youth, but who in his age bore arms with achilles and ajax in the trojan war, these and many more joined in the enterprise. with them came atalanta, the daughter of iasius, king of arcadia. a buckle of polished gold confined her vest, an ivory quiver hung on her left shoulder, and her left hand bore the bow. her face blent feminine beauty with the best graces of martial youth. meleager saw and loved. but now already they were near the monster's lair. they stretched strong nets from tree to tree; they uncoupled their dogs, they tried to find the footprints of their quarry in the grass. from the wood was a descent to marshy ground. here the boar, as he lay among the reeds, heard the shouts of his pursuers, and rushed forth against them. one and another is thrown down and slain. jason throws his spear with a prayer to diana for success; and the favoring goddess allows the weapon to touch, but not to wound, removing the steel point of the spear even in its flight. nestor, assailed, seeks and finds safety in the branches of a tree. telamon rushes on, but stumbling at a projecting root, falls prone. but an arrow from atalanta at length for the first time tastes the monster's blood. it is a slight wound, but meleager sees and joyfully proclaims it. anceus, excited to envy by the praise given to a female, loudly proclaims his own valor, and defies alike the boar and the goddess who had sent it; but as he rushes on, the infuriated beast lays him low with a mortal wound. theseus throws his lance, but it is turned aside by a projecting bough. the dart of jason misses its object, and kills instead one of their own dogs. but meleager, after one unsuccessful stroke, drives his spear into the monsters side, then rushes on and despatches him with repeated blows. then rose a shout from those around; they congratulated the conqueror, crowding to touch his hand. he, placing his foot upon the slain boar, turned to atalanta and bestowed on her the head and the rough hide which were the trophies of his success. but at this, envy excited the rest to strife. phlexippus and toxeus, the uncles of meleager and althea's brothers, beyond the rest opposed the gift, and snatched from the maiden the trophy she had received. meleager, kindling with rage at the wrong done to himself, and still more at the insult offered to her whom he loved, forgot the claims of kindred, and plunged his sword into the offenders' hearts. as althea bore gifts of thankfulness to the temples for the victory of her son, the bodies of her murdered brothers met her sight. she shrieks, and beats her breast, and hastens to change the garments of rejoicing for those of mourning. but when the author of the deed is known, grief gives way to the stern desire of vengeance on her son. the fatal brand, which once she rescued from the flames, the brand which the destinies had linked with meleager's life, she brings forth, and commands a fire to be prepared. then four times she essays to place the brand upon the pile; four times draws back, shuddering at the thought of bringing destruction on her son. the feelings of the mother and the sister contend within her. now she is pale at the thought of the purposed deed, now flushed again with anger at the act of her son. as a vessel, driven in one direction by the wind, and in the opposite by the tide, the mind of althea hangs suspended in uncertainty. but now the sister prevails above the mother, and she begins as she holds the fatal wood: "turn, ye furies, goddesses of punishment! turn to behold the sacrifice i bring! crime must atone for crime. shall oeneus rejoice in his victor son, while the house of thestius (thestius was father of toxeus, phlexippus and althea) is desolate? but, alas! to what deed am i borne along? brothers, forgive a mother's weakness! my hand fails me. he deserves death, but not that i should destroy him. but shall he then live, and triumph, and reign over calydon, while you, my brothers, wander unavenged among the shades? no! thou has lived by my gift; die, now, for thine own crime. return the life which twice i gave thee, first at thy birth, again when i snatched this brand from the flames. o that thou hadst then died! alas! evil is the conquest; but, brothers, ye have conquered." and, turning away her face, she threw the fatal wood upon the burning pile. it gave, or seemed to give, a deadly groan. meleager, absent and unknowing of the cause, felt a sudden pang. he burns and only by courageous pride conquers the pain which destroys him. he mourns only that he perishes by a bloodless and unhonored death. with his last breath he calls upon his aged father, his brother, and his fond sisters, upon his beloved atalanta, and upon his mother, the unknown cause of his fate. the flames increase, and with them the pain of the hero. now both subside; now both are quenched. the brand is ashes and the life of meleager is breathed forth to the wandering winds. althea, when the deed was done, laid violent hands upon herself. the sisters of meleager mourned their brother with uncontrollable grief; till diana, pitying the sorrows of the house that once had aroused her anger, turned them into birds. atalanta the innocent cause of so much sorrow was a maiden whose face you might truly say was boyish for a girl, yet too girlish for a boy. her fortune had been told, and it was to this effect: "atalanta, do not marry; marriage will be your ruin." terrified by this oracle, she fled the society of men, and devoted herself to the sports of the chase. to all suitors (for she had many) she imposed a condition which was generally effectual in relieving her of their persecutions: "i will be the prize of him who shall conquer me in the race; but death must be the penalty of all who try and fail." in spite of this hard condition some would try. hippomenes was to be judge of the race. "can it be possible that any will be so rash as to risk so much for a wife?" said he. but when he saw her lay aside her robe for the race, he changed his mind, and said, "pardon me, youths, i knew not the prize you were competing for." as he surveyed them he wished them all to be beaten, and swelled with envy of any one that seemed at all likely to win. while such were his thoughts, the virgin darted forward. as she ran, she looked more beautiful than ever. the breezes seemed to give wings to her feet; her hair flew over her shoulders, and the gay fringe of her garment fluttered behind her. a ruddy hue tinged the whiteness of her skin, such as a crimson curtain casts on a marble wall. all her competitors were distanced, and were put to death without mercy. hippomenes, not daunted by this result, fixing his eyes on the virgin, said, "why boast of beating those laggards? i offer myself for the contest." atalanta looked at him with a pitying countenance, and hardly knew whether she would rather conquer him or not. "what god can tempt one so young and handsome to throw himself away? i pity him, not for his beauty (yet he is beautiful), but for his youth. i wish he would give up the race, or if he will be so mad, i hope he may outrun me." while she hesitates, revolving these thoughts, the spectators grow impatient for the race, and her father prompts her to prepare. then hippomenes addressed a prayer to venus; "help me, venus, for you have led me on" venus heard, and was propitious. in the garden of her temple, in her own island of cyprus, is a tree with yellow leaves and yellow branches, and golden fruit. hence venus gathered three golden apples, and, unseen by all else, gave them to hippomenes, and told him how to use them. the signal is given; each starts from the goal, and skims over the sand. so light their tread, you would almost have thought they might run over the river surface or over the waving grain without sinking. the cries of the spectators cheered on hippomenes: "now, now do your best! haste, haste! you gain on her! relax not! one more effort!" it was doubtful whether the youth or the maiden heard these cries with the greater pleasure. but his breath began to fail him, his throat was dry, the goal yet far off. at that moment he threw down one of the golden apples. the virgin was all amazement. she stopped to pick it up. hippomenes shot ahead. shouts burst forth from all sides. she redoubled her efforts, and soon overtook him. again he threw an apple. she stopped again, but again came up with him. the goal was near; one chance only remained. "now, goddess," said he, "prosper your gift!" and threw the last apple off at one side. she looked at it, and hesitated; venus impelled her to turn aside for it. she did so, and was vanquished. the youth carried off his prize. but the lovers were so full of their own happiness that they forgot to pay due honor to venus; and the goddess was provoked at their ingratitude. she caused them to give offence to cybele. that powerful goddess was not to be insulted with impunity. she took from them their human form and turned them into animals of characters resembling their own: of the huntress-heroine, triumphing in the blood of her lovers, she made a lioness, and of her lord and master a lion, and yoked them to her ear, there they are still to be seen in all representations, in statuary or painting, of the goddess cybele. cybele is the latin name of the goddess called by the greeks rhea and ops. she was the wife of cronos and mother of zeus. in works of art, she exhibits the matronly air which distinguishes juno and ceres. sometimes she is veiled, and seated on a throne with lions at her side, at other times riding in a chariot drawn by lions. she sometimes wears a mural crown, that is, a crown whose rim is carved in the form of towers and battlements. her priests were called corybantes. byron in describing the city of venice, which is built on a low island in the adriatic sea, borrows an illustration from cybele: "she looks a sea-cybele fresh from ocean, rising with her tiara of proud towers at airy distance, with majestic motion, a ruler of the waters and their powers." childe harold, iv in moore's rhymes on the road, the poet, speaking of alpine scenery, alludes to the story of atalanta and hippomenes, thus: "even here, in this region of wonders, i find that light-footed fancy leaves truth far behind, or at least, like hippomenes, turns her astray by the golden illusions he flings in her way." chapter xii hercules. hebe and ganymede hercules (in greek, heracles) was the son of jupiter and alemena. as juno was always hostile to the offspring of her husband by mortal mothers, she declared war against hercules from his birth. she sent two serpents to destroy him as he lay in his cradle, but the precocious infant strangled them with his own hands. (on this account the infant hercules was made the type of infant america, by dr. franklin, and the french artists whom he employed in the american revolution. horatio greenough has placed a bas- relief of the infant hercules on the pedestal of his statue of washington, which stands in front of the capitol.) he was however by the arts of juno rendered subject to his cousin eurystheus and compelled to perform all his commands. eurystheus enjoined upon him a succession of desperate adventures, which are called the twelve "labors of hercules." the first was the fight with the nemean lion. the valley of nemea was infested by a terrible lion. eurystheus ordered hercules to bring him the skin of this monster. after using in vain his club and arrows against the lion, hercules strangled the animal with his hands. he returned carrying the dead lion on his shoulders; but eurystheus was so frightened at the sight of it and at this proof of the prodigious strength of the hero, that he ordered him to deliver the account of his exploits in future outside the town. his next labor was to slaughter the hydra. this monster ravaged the country of argos, and dwelt in a swamp near the well of amymone, of which the story is that when the country was suffering from drought, neptune, who loved her, had permitted her to touch the rock with his trident, and a spring of three outlets burst forth. here the hydra took up his position, and hercules was sent to destroy him. the hydra had nine heads, of which the middle one was immortal. hercules struck off its head with his club, but in the place of the head knocked off, two new ones grew forth each time. at length with the assistance of his faithful servant iolaus, he burned away the heads of the hydra, and buried the ninth or immortal one under a huge rock. another labor was the cleaning of the augean stables. augeas, king of elis, had a herd of three thousand oxen, whose stalls had not been cleansed for thirty years. hercules brought the rivers alpheus and peneus through them, and cleansed them thoroughly in one day. his next labor was of a more delicate kind. admeta, the daughter of eurystheus, longed to obtain the girdle of the queen of the amazons, and eurystheus ordered hercules to go and get it. the amazons were a nation of women. they were very warlike and held several flourishing cities. it was their custom to bring up only the female children; the boys were either sent away to the neighboring nations or put to death. hercules was accompanied by a number of volunteers, and after various adventures at last reached the country of the amazons. hippolyta, the queen, received him kindly, and consented to yield him her girdle; but juno, taking the form of an amazon, went among the other amazons and persuaded them that the strangers were carrying off their queen. the amazons instantly armed and came in great numbers down to the ship. hercules, thinking that hippolyta had acted treacherously, slew her, and taking her girdle, made sail homewards. another task enjoined him was to bring to eurystheus the oxen of geryon, a monster with three bodies who dwelt in the island erytheia (the red), so called because it lay at the west, under the rays of the setting sun. this description is thought to apply to spain, of which geryon was said to be king. after traversing various countries, hercules reached at length the frontiers of libya and europe, where he raised the two mountains of calpe and abyla, as monuments of his progress, or according to another account rent one mountain into two and left half on each side, forming the straits of gibraltar, the two mountains being called the pillars of hercules. the oxen were guarded by the giant eurytion and his two-headed dog, but hercules killed the giant and his dog and brought away the oxen in safety to eurystheus. the most difficult labor of all was bringing the golden apples of the hesperides, for hercules did not know where to find them. these were the apples which juno had received at her wedding from the goddess of the earth, and which she had intrusted to the keeping of the daughters of hesperis, assisted by a watchful dragon. after various adventures hercules arrived at mount atlas in africa. atlas was one of the titans who had warred against the gods, and after they were subdued, atlas was condemned to bear on his shoulders the weight of the heavens. he was the father of the hesperides, and hercules thought, might, if any one could, find the apples and bring them to him. but how to send atlas away from his post, or bear up the heavens while he was gone? hercules took the burden on his own shoulders, and sent atlas to seek the apples. he returned with them, and though somewhat reluctantly, took his burden upon his shoulders again, and let hercules return with the apples to eurystheus. (hercules was a descendant of perseus. perseus changed atlas to stone. how could hercules take his place? this is only one of the many anachronisms found in ancient mythology.) milton in his comus makes the hesperides the daughters of hesperus, and nieces of atlas: "---- amidst the gardens fair of hesperus and his daughters three, that sing about the golden tree." the poets, led by the analogy of the lovely appearance of the western sky at sunset, viewed the west as a region of brightness and glory. hence they placed in it the isles of the blest, the ruddy isle erytheia, on which the bright oxen of geryon were pastured, and the isle of the hesperides. the apples are supposed by some to be the oranges of spain, of which the greeks had heard some obscure accounts. a celebrated exploit of hercules was his victory over antaeus. antaeus, the son of terra (the earth) was a mighty giant and wrestler, whose strength was invincible so long as he remained in contact with his mother earth. he compelled all strangers who came to his country to wrestle with him, on condition that if conquered (as they all were), they should be put to death. hercules encountered him, and finding that it was of no avail to throw him, for he always rose with renewed strength from every fall, he lifted him up from the earth and strangled him in the air. cacus was a huge giant, who inhabited a cave on mount aventine (one of the seven hills of rome), and plundered the surrounding country. when hercules was driving home the oxen of geryon, cacus stole part of the cattle, while the hero slept. that their foot-prints might not serve to show where they had been driven, he dragged them backward by their tails to his cave; so their tracks all seemed to show that they had gone in the opposite direction. hercules was deceived by this stratagem, and would have failed to find his oxen, if it had not happened that in driving the remainder of the herd past the cave where the stolen ones were concealed, those within began to low, and were thus discovered. cacus was slain by hercules. the last exploit we shall record was bringing cerberus from the lower world. hercules descended into hades, accompanied by mercury and minerva. he obtained permission from pluto to carry cerberus to the upper air, provided he could do it without the use of weapons; and in spite of the monster's struggling he seized him, held him fast, and carried him to eurystheus, and afterwards brought him back again. when he was in hades he obtained the liberty of theseus, his admirer and imitator, who had been detained a prisoner there for an unsuccessful attempt to carry off proserpine. hercules in a fit of madness killed his friend iphitus and was condemned for this offence to become the slave of queen omphale for three years. while in this service the hero's nature seemed changed. he lived effeminately, wearing at times the dress of a woman, and spinning wool with the handmaidens of omphale, while the queen wore his lion's skin. when this service was ended he married dejanira and lived in peace with her three years. on one occasion as he was travelling with his wife, they came to a river, across which the centaur nessus carried travellers for a stated fee. hercules himself forded the river, but gave dejanira to nessus to be carried across. nessus attempted to run away with her, but hercules heard her cries, and shot an arrow into the heart of nessus. the dying centaur told dejanira to take a portion of his blood and keep it, as it might be used as a charm to preserve the love of her husband. dejanira did so, and before long fancied she had occasion to use it. hercules in one of his conquests had taken prisoner a fair maiden, named iole, of whom he seemed more fond than dejanira approved. when hercules was about to offer sacrifices to the gods in honor of his victory, he sent to his wife for a white robe to use on the occasion. dejanira, thinking it a good opportunity to try her love-spell, steeped the garment in the blood of nessus. we are to suppose she took care to wash out all traces of it, but the magic power remained, and as soon as the garment became warm on the body of hercules, the poison penetrated into all his limbs and caused him the most intense agony. in his frenzy he seized lichas, who had brought him the fatal robe, and hurled him into the sea. he wrenched off the garment, but it stuck to his flesh, and with it he tore away whole pieces of his body. in this state he embarked on board a ship and was conveyed home. dejanira on seeing what she had unwittingly done, hung herself. hercules, prepared to die, ascended mount oeta, where he built a funeral pile of trees, gave his bow and arrows to philoctetes, and laid himself down on the pile, his head resting on his club, and his lion's skin spread over him. with a countenance as serene as if he were taking his place at a festal board, he commanded philoctetes to apply the torch. the flames spread apace and soon invested the whole mass. milton thus alludes to the frenzy of hercules: "as when alcides (alcides, a name of hercules; the word means "descendant of alcaeus"), from oechalia crowned with conquest, felt the envenomed robe, and tore, through pain, up by the roots thessalian pines and lichas from the top of oeta threw into the euboic sea." the gods themselves felt troubled at seeing the champion of the earth so brought to his end; but jupiter with cheerful countenance thus addressed them; "i am pleased to see your concern, my princes, and am gratified to perceive that i am the ruler of a loyal people, and that my son enjoys your favor. for although your interest in him arises from his noble deeds, yet it is not the less gratifying to me. but now i say to you, fear not. he who conquered all else is not to be conquered by those flames which you see blazing on mount oeta. only his mother's share in him can perish; what he derived from me is immortal. i shall take him, dead to earth, to the heavenly shores, and i require of you all to receive him kindly. if any of you feel grieved at his attaining this honor, yet no one can deny that he has deserved it." the gods all gave their assent; juno only heard the closing words with some displeasure that she should be so particularly pointed at, yet not enough to make her regret the determination of her husband. so when the flames had consumed the mother's share of hercules, the diviner part, instead of being injured thereby, seemed to start forth with new vigor, to assume a more lofty port and a more awful dignity. jupiter enveloped him in a cloud, and took him up in a four-horse chariot to dwell among the stars. as he took his place in heaven, atlas felt the added weight. juno, now reconciled to him, gave him her daughter hebe in marriage. the poet schiller, in one of his pieces called the ideal and life, illustrates the contrast between the practical and the imaginative in some beautiful stanzas, of which the last two may be thus translated: "deep degraded to a coward's slave, endless contests bore alcides brave, through the thorny path of suffering led; slew the hydra, crushed the lion's might, threw himself, to bring his friend to light, living, in the skiff that bears the dead. all the torments, every toil of earth juno's hatred on him could impose, well he bore them, from his fated birth to life's grandly mournful close. till the god, the earthly part forsaken, from the man in flames asunder taken, drank the heavenly ether's purer breath. joyous in the new unwonted lightness, soared he upwards to celestial brightness, earth's dark heavy burden lost in death. high olympus gives harmonious greeting to the hall where reigns his sire adored; youth's bright goddess, with a blush at meeting, gives the nectar to her lord." s. g. bulfinch hebe and ganymede hebe, the daughter of juno, and goddess of youth, was cupbearer to the gods. the usual story is, that she resigned her office on becoming the wife of hercules. but there is another statement which our countryman crawford, the sculptor, has adopted in his group of hebe and ganymede, now in the gallery of the boston athenaeum. according to this, hebe was dismissed from her office in consequence of a fall which she met with one day when in attendance on the gods. her successor was ganymede, a trojan boy whom jupiter, in the disguise of an eagle, seized and carried off from the midst of his playfellows on mount ida, bore up to heaven, and installed in the vacant place. tennyson, in his palace of art, describes among the decorations on the walls, a picture representing this legend: "there, too, flushed ganymede his rosy thigh half buried in the eagle's down, sole as a flying star shot through the sky above the pillared town." and in shelley's prometheus, jupiter calls to his cup-bearer thus: "pour forth heaven's wine, idaean ganymede, and let it fill the daedal cups like fire." the beautiful legend of the choice of hercules may be found in the tatler, no. . the same story is told in the memorabilia of xenophon. chapter xiii theseus. daedalus. castor and pollux theseus was the son of aegeus, king of athens, and of aethra, daughter of the king of troezene. he was brought up at troezene, and, when arrived at manhood, was to proceed to athens and present himself to his father. aegeus, on parting from aethra, before the birth of his son, placed his sword and shoes under a large stone, and directed her to send his son to him when he became strong enough to roll away the stone and take them from under it. when she thought the time had come, his mother led theseus to the stone, and he removed it with ease, and took the sword and shoes. as the roads were infested with robbers, his grandfather pressed him earnestly to take the shorter and safer way to his father's country, by sea; but the youth, feeling in himself the spirit and the soul of a hero, and eager to signalize himself like hercules, with whose fame all greece then rang, by destroying the evil-doers and monsters that oppressed the country, determined on the more perilous and adventurous journey by land. his first day's journey brought him to epidaurus, where dwelt a man named periphetes, a son of vulcan. this ferocious savage always went armed with a club of iron, and all travellers stood in terror of his violence. when he saw theseus approach, he assailed him, but speedily fell beneath the blows of the young hero, who took possession of his club, and bore it ever afterwards as a memorial of his first victory. several similar contests with the petty tyrants and marauders of the country followed, in all of which theseus was victorious. one of these evil-doers was called procrustes, or the stretcher. he had an iron bedstead, on which he used to tie all travellers who fell into his hands. if they were shorter than the bed, he stretched their limbs to make them fit it; if they were longer than the bed, he lopped off a portion. theseus served him as he had served others. having overcome all the perils of the road, theseus at length reached athens, where new dangers awaited him. medea, the sorceress, who had fled from corinth after her separation from jason, had become the wife of aegeus, the father of theseus. knowing by her arts who he was, and fearing the loss of her influence with her husband, if theseus should be acknowledged as his son, she filled the mind of aegeus with suspicions of the young stranger, and induced him to present him a cup of poison; but at the moment when theseus stepped forward to take it, the sight of the sword which he wore discovered to his father who he was, and prevented the fatal draught. medea, detected in her arts, fled once more from deserved punishment, and arrived in asia, where the country afterwards called media received its name from her. theseus was acknowledged by his father, and declared his successor. the athenians were at that time in deep affliction, on account of the tribute which they were forced to pay to minos, king of crete. this tribute consisted of seven youths and seven maidens, who were sent every year to be devoured by the minotaur, a monster with a bull's body and a human head. it was exceedingly strong and fierce, and was kept in a labyrinth constructed by daedalus, so artfully contrived that whoever was enclosed in it could by no means find his way out unassisted. here the minotaur roamed, and was fed with human victims. theseus resolved to deliver his countrymen from this calamity, or to die in the attempt. accordingly, when the time of sending off the tribute came, and the youths and maidens were, according to custom, drawn by lot to be sent, he offered himself as one of the victims, in spite of the entreaties of his father. the ship departed under black sails, as usual, which theseus promised his father to change for white, in case of his returning victorious. when they arrived in crete, the youths and maidens were exhibited before minos; and ariadne, the daughter of the king, being present, became deeply enamored of theseus, by whom her love was readily returned. she furnished him with a sword, with which to encounter the minotaur, and with a clew of thread by which he might find his way out of the labyrinth. he was successful, slew the minotaur, escaped from the labyrinth, and taking ariadne as the companion of his way, with his rescued companions sailed for athens. on their way they stopped at the island of naxos, where theseus abandoned ariadne, leaving her asleep. for minerva had appeared to theseus in a dream, and warned him that ariadne was destined to be the wife of bacchus, the wine-god. (one of the finest pieces of sculpture in italy, the recumbent ariadne of the vatican, represents this incident. a copy is in the athenaeum gallery, boston. the celebrated statue of ariadne, by danneker, represents her as riding on the tiger of bacchus, at a somewhat later period of her story.) on approaching the coast of attica, theseus, intent on ariadne, forgot the signal appointed by his father, and neglected to raise the white sails, and the old king, thinking his son had perished, put an end to his own life. theseus thus became king of athens. one of the most celebrated of the adventures of theseus is his expedition against the amazons. he assailed them before they had recovered from the attack of hercules, and carried off their queen, antiope. the amazons in their turn invaded the country of athens and penetrated into the city itself; and the final battle in which theseus overcame them was fought in the very midst of the city. this battle was one of the favorite subjects of the ancient sculptors, and is commemorated in several works of art that are still extant. the friendship between theseus and pirithous was of a most intimate nature, yet it originated in the midst of arms. pirithous had made an irruption into the plain of marathon, and carried off the herds of the king of athens. theseus went to repel the plunderers. the moment pirithous beheld him, he was seized with admiration; he stretched out his hand as a token of peace, and cried, "be judge thyself, what satisfaction dost thou require?" "thy friendship," replied the athenian, and they swore inviolable fidelity. their deeds corresponded to their professions, and they ever continued true brothers in arms. each of them aspired to espouse a daughter of jupiter. theseus fixed his choice on helen, then but a child, afterwards so celebrated as the cause of the trojan war, and with the aid of his friend he carried her off. pirithous aspired to the wife of the monarch of erebus; and theseus, though aware of the danger, accompanied the ambitious lover in his descent to the underworld. but pluto seized and set them on an enchanted rock at his palace gate, where they remained till hercules arrived and liberated theseus, leaving pirithous to his fate. after the death of antiope, theseus married phaedra, daughter of minos, king of crete. phaedra saw in hippolytus, the son of theseus, a youth endowed with all the graces and virtues of his father, and of an age corresponding to her own. she loved him, but he repulsed her advances, and her love was changed to hate. she used her influence over her infatuated husband to cause him to be jealous of his son, and he imprecated the vengeance of neptune upon him. as hippolytus was one day driving his chariot along the shore, a sea-monster raised himself above the waters, and frightened the horses so that they ran away and dashed the chariot to pieces. hippolytus was killed, but by diana's assistance aesculapius restored him to life. diana removed hippolytus from the power of his deluded father and false stepmother, and placed him in italy under the protection of the nymph egeria. theseus at length lost the favor of his people, and retired to the court of lycomedes, king of scyros, who at first received him kindly, but afterwards treacherously slew him. in a later age the athenian general cimon discovered the place where his remains were laid, and caused them to be removed to athens, where they were deposited in a temple called the theseum, erected in honor of the hero. the queen of the amazons whom theseus espoused is by some called hippolyta. that is the name she bears in shakespeare's midsummer night's dream, the subject of which is the festivities attending the nuptials of theseus and hippolyta. mrs. hemans has a poem on the ancient greek tradition that the "shade of theseus" appeared strengthening his countrymen at the battle of marathon. mr. lewis morris has a beautiful poem on helen, in the epic of hades. in these lines helen describes how she was seized by theseus and his friend: ----"there came a night when i lay longing for my love, and knew sudden the clang of hoofs, the broken doors, the clash of swords, the shouts, the groans, the stain of red upon the marble, the fixed gaze of dead and dying eyes, that was the time when first i looked on death, and when i woke from my deep swoon, i felt the night air cool upon my brow, and the cold stars look down, as swift we galloped o'er the darkling plain and saw the chill sea-glimpses slowly wake, with arms unknown around me. when the dawn broke swift, we panted on the pathless steeps, and so by plain and mountain till we came to athens, ----." theseus is a semi-historical personage. it is recorded of him that he united the several tribes by whom the territory of attica was then possessed into one state, of which athens was the capital. in commemoration of this important event, he instituted the festival of panathenaea, in honor of minerva, the patron deity of athens. this festival differed from the other grecian games chiefly in two particulars. it was peculiar to the athenians, and its chief feature was a solemn procession in which the peplus or sacred robe of minerva was carried to the parthenon, and suspended before the statue of the goddess. the peplus was covered with embroidery, worked by select virgins of the noblest families in athens. the procession consisted of persons of all ages and both sexes. the old men carried olive- branches in their hands, and the young men bore arms. the young women carried baskets on their heads, containing the sacred utensils, cakes, and all things necessary for the sacrifices. the procession formed the subject of the bas-reliefs by phidias which embellished the outside of the temple of the parthenon. a considerable portion of these sculptures is now in the british museum among those known as the "elgin marbles." olympic and other games we may mention here the other celebrated national games of the greeks. the first and most distinguished were the olympic, founded, it was said , by jupiter himself. they were celebrated at olympia in elis. vast numbers of spectators flocked to them from every part of greece, and from asia, africa, and sicily. they were repeated every fifth year in midsummer, and continued five days. they gave rise to the custom of reckoning time and dating events by olympiads. the first olympiad is generally considered as corresponding with the year b.c. the pythian games were celebrated in the vicinity of delphi, the isthmian on the corinthian isthmus, the nemean at nemea, a city of argolis. the exercises in these games were of five sorts: running, leaping, wrestling, throwing the quoit, and hurling the javelin, or boxing. besides these exercises of bodily strength and agility, there were contests in music, poetry, and eloquence. thus these games furnished poets, musicians, and authors the best opportunities to present their productions to the public, and the fame of the victors was diffused far and wide. daedalus the labyrinth from which theseus escaped by means of the clew of ariadne, was built by daedalus, a most skilful artificer. it was an edifice with numberless winding passages and turnings opening into one another, and seeming to have neither beginning nor end, like the river maender, which returns on itself, and flows now onward, now backward, in its course to the sea. daedalus built the labyrinth for king minos, but afterwards lost the favor of the king, and was shut up in a tower. he contrived to make his escape from his prison, but could not leave the island by sea, as the king kept strict watch on all the vessels, and permitted none to sail without being carefully searched. "minos may control the land and sea,:" said daedalus, "but not the regions of the air. i will try that way." so he set to work to fabricate wings for himself and his young son icarus. he wrought feathers together beginning with the smallest and adding larger, so as to form an increasing surface. the larger ones he secured with thread and the smaller with wax, and gave the whole a gentle curvature like the wings of a bird. icarus, the boy, stood and looked on, sometimes running to gather up the feathers which the wind had blown away, and then handling the wax and working it over with his fingers, by his play impeding his father in his labors. when at last the work was done, the artist, waving his wings, found himself buoyed upward and hung suspended, poising himself on the beaten air. he next equipped his son in the same manner, and taught him how to fly, as a bird tempts her young ones from the lofty nest into the air. when all was prepared for flight, he said, "icarus, my son, i charge you to keep at a moderate height, for if you fly too low the damp will clog your wings, and if too high the heat will melt them. keep near me and you will be safe." while he gave him these instructions and fitted the wings to his shoulders, the face of the father was wet with tears, and his hands trembled. he kissed the boy, not knowing that it was for the last time. then rising on his wings he flew off, encouraging him to follow, and looked back from his own flight to see how his son managed his wings. as they flew the ploughman stopped his work to gaze, and the shepherd learned on his staff and watched them, astonished at the sight, and thinking they were gods who could thus cleave the air. they passed samos and delos on the left and lebynthos on the right, when the boy, exulting in his career, began to leave the guidance of his companion and soar upward as if to reach heaven. the nearness of the blazing sun softened the wax which held the feathers together, and they came off. he fluttered with his arms, but no feathers remained to hold the air. while his mouth uttered cries to his father, it was submerged in the blue waters of the sea, which thenceforth was called by his name. his father cried, "icarus, icarus, where are you?" at last he saw the feathers floating on the water, and bitterly lamenting his own arts, he buried the body and called the land icaria in memory of his child. daedalus arrived safe in sicily, where he built a temple to apollo, and hung up his wings, an offering to the god. daedalus was so proud of his achievements that he could not bear the idea of a rival. his sister had placed her son perdix under his charge to be taught the mechanical arts. he was an apt scholar and gave striking evidences of ingenuity. walking on the seashore he picked up the spine of a fish. imitating it, he took a piece of iron and notched it on the edge, and thus invented the saw. he put two pieces of iron together, connecting them at one end with a rivet, and sharpening the other ends, and made a pair of compasses. daedalus was so envious of his nephew's performances that he took an opportunity, when they were together one day on the top of a high tower, to push him off. but minerva, who favors ingenuity, saw him falling, and arrested his fate by changing him into a bird called after his name, the partridge. this bird does not build his next in the trees, nor take lofty flights, but nestles in the hedges, and mindful of his fall, avoids high places. the death of icarus is told in the following lines by darwin: "---- with melting wax and loosened strings sunk hapless icarus on unfaithful wings; headlong he rushed through the affrighted air, with limbs distorted and dishevelled hair; his scattered plumage danced upon the wave, and sorrowing nereids decked his watery grave; o'er his pale corse their pearly sea-flowers shed, and strewed with crimson moss his marble bed; struck in their coral towers the passing bell, and wide in ocean tolled his echoing knell." castor and pollux castor and pollux were the offspring of leda and the swan, under which disguise jupiter had concealed himself. leda gave birth to an egg, from which sprang the twins. helen, so famous afterwards as the cause of the trojan war, was their sister. when theseus and his friend pirithous had carried off helen from sparta, the youthful heroes castor and pollux, with their followers, hasted to her rescue. theseus was absent from attica, and the brothers were successful in recovering their sister. castor was famous for taming and managing horses, and pollux for skill in boxing. they were united by the warmest affection, and inseparable in all their enterprises. they accompanied the argonautic expedition. during the voyage a storm arose, and orpheus prayed to the samothracian gods, and played on his harp, whereupon the storm ceased and stars appeared on the heads of the brothers. from this incident, castor and pollux came afterwards to be considered the patron deities of seamen and voyagers (one of the ships in which st. paul sailed was named the castor and pollux. see acts xxviii.ii.), and the lambent flames, which in certain sates of the atmosphere play round the sails and masts of vessels, were called by their names. after the argonautic expedition, we find castor and pollux engaged in a war with idas and lynceus. castor was slain, and pollux, inconsolable for the loss of his brother, besought jupiter to be permitted to give his own life as a ransom for him. jupiter so far consented as to allow the two brothers to enjoy the boon of life alternately, passing one day under the earth and the next in the heavenly abodes. according to another form of the story, jupiter rewarded the attachment of the brothers by placing them among the stars as gemini, the twins. they received divine honors under the name of dioscuri (sons of jove). they were believed to have appeared occasionally in later times, taking part with one side or the other, in hard-fought fields, and were said on such occasions to be mounted on magnificent white steeds. thus, in the early history of rome, they are said to have assisted the romans at the battle of lake regillus, and after the victory a temple was erected in their honor on the spot where they appeared. macaulay, in his lays of ancient rome, thus alludes to the legend: "so like they were, no mortal might one from other know; white as snow their armor was, their steeds were white as snow. never on earthly anvil did such rare armor gleam, and never did such gallant steeds drink of an earthly stream. . . . . . . . . . "back comes the chief in triumph who in the hour of fight hath seen the great twin brethren in harness on his right. safe comes the ship to haven through billows and through gales, if once the great twin brethren sit shining on the sails." in the poem of atalanta in calydon mr. swinburne thus describes the little helen and clytemnestra, the sisters of castor and pollux: meleager "even such i saw their sisters, one swan white, the little helen, and less fair than she, fair clytemnestra, grave as pasturing fawns, who feed and fear the arrow; but at whiles, as one smitten with love or wrung with joy, she laughs and lightens with her eyes, and then weeps; whereat helen, having laughed, weeps too, and the other chides her, and she being chid speaks naught, but cheeks and lips and eyelids kisses her, laughing; so fare they, as in their blameless bud, and full of unblown life, the blood of gods." althea "sweet days before them, and good loves and lords, and tender and temperate honors of the hearth; peace, and a perfect life and blameless bed" chapter xiv bacchus. ariadne bacchus was the son of jupiter and semele. juno, to gratify her resentment against semele, contrived a plan for her destruction. assuming the form of beroe, her aged nurse, she insinuated doubts whether it was indeed jove himself who came as a lover. heaving a sigh, she said, "i hope it will turn out so, but i can't help being afraid. people are not always what they pretend to be. if he is indeed jove, make him give some proof of it. ask him to come arrayed in all his splendors, such as he wears in heaven. that will put the matter beyond a doubt." semele was persuaded to try the experiment. she asks a favor, without naming what it is. jove gives his promise and confirms it with the irrevocable oath, attesting the river styx, terrible to the gods themselves. then she made know her request. the god would have stopped her as she spake, but she was too quick for him. the words escaped, and he could neither unsay his promise nor her request. in deep distress he left her and returned to the upper regions. there he clothed himself in his splendors, not putting on all his terrors, as when he overthrew the giants, but what is known among the gods as his lesser panoply. arrayed in this he entered the chamber of semele. her mortal frame could not endure the splendors of the immortal radiance. she was consumed to ashes. jove took the infant bacchus and gave him in charge to the nysaean nymphs, who nourished his infancy and childhood, and for their care were rewarded by jupiter by being placed, as the hyades, among the stars. when bacchus grew up he discovered the culture of the vine and the mode of extracting its precious juice; but juno struck him with madness, and drove him forth a wanderer through various parts of the earth. in phrygia the goddess rhea cured him and taught him her religious rites, and he set out on a progress through asia teaching the people the cultivation of the vine. the most famous part of his wanderings is his expedition to india, which is said to have lasted several years. returning in triumph he undertook to introduce his worship into greece, but was opposed by some princes who dreaded its introduction on account of the disorders and madness it brought with it. as he approached his native city thebes, pentheus the king, who had no respect for the new worship, forbade its rites to be performed. but when it was known that bacchus was advancing, men and women, but chiefly the latter, young and old poured forth to meet him and to join his triumphal march. mr. longfellow in his drinking song thus describes the march of bacchus: "fauns with youthful bacchus follow; ivy crowns that brow, supernal as the forehead of apollo, and possessing youth eternal. "round about him fair bacchantes, bearing cymbals, flutes and thyrses, wild from naxian groves or zante's vineyards, sing delirious verses." it was in vain pentheus remonstrated, commanded, and threatened. "go," said he to his attendants, "seize this vagabond leader of the rout and bring him to me. i will soon make him confess his false claim of heavenly parentage and renounce his counterfeit worship." it was in vain his nearest friends and wisest counselors remonstrated and begged him not to oppose the god. their remonstrances only made him more violent. but now the attendants returned whom he had despatched to seize bacchus. they had been driven away by the bacchanals, but had succeeded in taking one of them prisoner, whom, with his hands tied behind him, they brought before the king. pentheus beholding him, with wrathful countenance said, "fellow! you shall speedily be put to death, that your fate may be a warning to others; but though i grudge the delay of your punishment, speak, tell us who you are, and what are these new rites you presume to celebrate." the prisoner unterrified responded, "my name is acetes; my country is maeonia; my parents were poor people, who had no fields or flocks to leave me, but they left me their fishing rods and nets and their fisherman's trade. this i followed for some time, till growing weary of remaining in one place, i learned the pilot's art and how to guide my course by the stars. it happened as i was sailing for delos, we touched at the island of dia and went ashore. next morning i sent the men for fresh water and myself mounted the hill to observe the wind; when my men returned bringing with them a prize, as they thought, a boy of delicate appearance, whom they had found asleep. they judged he was a noble youth, perhaps a king's son, and they might get a liberal ransom for him. i observed his dress, his walk, his face. there was something in them which i felt sure was more than mortal. i said to my men, 'what god there is concealed in that form i know not, but some one there certainly is. pardon us, gentle deity, for the violence we have done you, and give success to our undertakings.' dictys, one of my best hands for climbing the mast and coming down by the ropes, and melanthus, my steersman, and epopeus the leader of the sailors' cry, one and all exclaimed, 'spare your prayers for us.' so blind is the lust of gain! when they proceeded to put him on board i resisted them. 'this ship shall not be profaned by such impiety,' said i. 'i have a greater share in her than any of you.' but lycabas, a turbulent fellow, seized me by the throat and attempted to throw me overboard, and i scarcely saved myself by clinging to the ropes. the rest approved the deed. "then bacchus, for it was indeed he, as if shaking off his drowsiness, exclaimed, 'what are you doing with me? what is this fighting about? who brought me here? where are you going to carry me?' one of them replied, 'fear nothing; tell us where you wish to go and we will take you there.' "naxos is my home,' said bacchus; 'take me there and you shall be well rewarded.' they promised so to do, and told me to pilot the ship to naxos. naxos lay to the right, and i was trimming the sails to carry us there, when some by signs and others by whispers signified to me their will that i should sail in the opposite direction, and take the boy to egypt to sell him for a slave. i was confounded and said, 'let some one else pilot the ship;' withdrawing myself from any further agency in their wickedness. they cursed me, and one of them exclaiming, 'don't flatter yourself that we depend on you for our safety,' took my place as pilot, and bore away from naxos. "then the god, pretending that he had just become aware of their treachery, looked out over the sea and said in a voice of weeping, 'sailors, these are not the shores you promised to take me to; yonder island is not my home. what have i done that you should treat me so? it is small glory you will gain by cheating a poor boy.' i wept to hear him, but the crew laughed at both of us, and sped the vessel fast over the sea. all at once strange as it may seem, it is true the vessel stopped, in the mid sea, as fast as if it was fixed on the ground. the men, astonished, pulled at their oars, and spread more sail, trying to make progress by the aid of both, but all in vain. ivy twined round the oars and hindered their motion, and clung with its heavy clusters of berries to the sails. a vine, laden with grapes, ran up the mast, and along the sides of the vessel. the sound of flutes was heard and the odor of fragrant wine spread all around. the god himself had a chaplet of vine leaves, and bore in his hand a spear wreathed with ivy. tigers crouched at his feet, and lynxes and spotted panthers played around him. the sailors were seized with terror or madness; some leaped overboard; others, preparing to do the same, beheld their companions in the water undergoing a change, their bodies becoming flattened and ending in a crooked tail. one exclaimed, 'what miracle is this!' and as he spoke his mouth widened, his nostrils expanded, and scales covered all his body. another endeavoring to pull the oar felt his hands shrink up, and presently to be no longer hands but fins; another trying to raise his arms to a rope found he had no arms, and curving his mutilated body, jumped into the sea. what had been his legs became the two ends of a crescent-shaped tail. the whole crew became dolphins and swam about the ship, now upon the surface, now under it, scattering the spray, and spouting the water from their broad nostrils. of twenty men i alone was left. the god cheered me, as i trembled with fear. 'fear not,' said he; 'steer toward naxos.' i obeyed, and when we arrived there, i kindled the altars and celebrated the sacred rites of bacchus." pentheus here exclaimed, "we have wasted time enough on this silly story. take him away and have him executed without delay." acetes was led away by the attendants and shut up fast in prison; but while they were getting ready the instruments of execution, the prison doors opened of their own accord and the chains fell from his limbs, and when the guards looked for him he was no where to be found. pentheus would take no warning, but instead of sending others, determined to go himself to the scene of the solemnities. the mountain cithaeron was all alive with worshippers, and the cries of the bacchanals resounded on every side. the noise roused the anger of pentheus as the sound of a trumpet does the fire of a war-horse. he penetrated the wood and reached an open space where the wildest scene of the orgies met his eyes. at the same moment the women saw him; and first among them his own mother, agave, blinded by the god, cried out, "see there the wild boar, the hugest monster that prowls in these woods! come on, sisters! i will be the first to strike the wild boar." the whole band rushed upon him, and while he now talks less arrogantly, now excuses himself, and now confesses his crime and implores pardon, they press upon and wound him. in vain he cries to his aunts to protect him from his mother. autonoe seized one arm, ino the other, and between them he was torn to pieces, while his mother shouted, "victory! victory! we have done it; the glory is ours!" so the worship of bacchus was established in greece. there is an allusion to the story of bacchus and the mariners in milton's comus, at line . the story of circe will be found in chapter xxii. "bacchus that first from out the purple grape crushed the sweet poison of misused wine, after the tuscan mariners transformed, coasting the tyrrhene shore as the winds listed on circe's island fell; (who knows not circe, the daughter of the sun? whose charmed cup whoever tasted lost his upright shape, and downward fell into a grovelling swine.)" ariadne we have seen in the story of theseus how ariadne, the daughter of king minos, after helping theseus to escape from the labyrinth, was carried by him to the island of naxos and was left there asleep, while theseus pursued his way home without her. ariadne, on waking and finding herself deserted, abandoned herself to grief. but venus took pity on her, and consoled her with the promise that she should have an immortal lover, instead of the mortal one she had lost. the island where ariadne was left was the favorite island of bacchus, the same that he wished the tyrrhenian mariners to carry him to, when they so treacherously attempted to make prize of him. as ariadne sat lamenting her fate, bacchus found her, consoled her and made her his wife as minerva had prophesied to theseus. as a marriage present he gave her a golden crown, enriched with gems, and when she died, he took her crown and threw it up into the sky. as it mounted the gems grew brighter and were turned into stars, and preserving its form ariadne's crown remains fixed in the heavens as a constellation, between the kneeling hercules and the man who holds the serpent. spenser alludes to ariadne's crown, though he has made some mistakes in his mythology. it was at the wedding of pirithous, and not theseus, that the centaurs and lapithae quarrelled. "look how the crown which ariadne wore upon her ivory forehead that same day that theseus her unto his bridal bore, when the bold centaurs made that bloody fray with the fierce lapiths which did them dismay; being now placed in the firmament, through the bright heaven doth her beams display, and is unto the stars an ornament, which round about her move in order excellent." chapter xv the rural deities. erisichthon. rhoecus. the water deities. camenae. winds. pan, the god of woods and fields, of flocks and shepherds, dwelt in grottos, wandered on the mountains and in valleys, and amused himself with the chase or in leading the dances of the nymphs. he was fond of music, and, as we have seen, the inventor of the syrinx, or shepherd's pipe, which he himself played in a masterly manner. pan, like other gods who dwelt in forests, was dreaded by those whose occupations caused them to pass through the woods by night, for the gloom and loneliness of such scenes dispose the mind to superstitious fears. hence sudden fright without any visible cause was ascribed to pan, and called a panic terror. as the name of the god signifies in greek, all, pan came to be considered a symbol of the universe and personification of nature; and later still to be regarded as a representative of all the gods, and heathenism itself. sylvanus and faunus were latin divinities, whose characteristics are so nearly the same as those of pan that we may safely consider them as the same personage under different names. the wood-nymphs, pan's partners in the dance, were but one of several classes of nymphs. there were beside them the naiads, who presided over brooks and fountains, the oreads, nymphs of mountains and grottos, and the nereids, sea-nymphs. the three last named were immortal, but the wood-nymphs, called dryads or hamadryads, were believed to perish with the trees which had been their abode, and with which they had come into existence. it was therefore an impious act wantonly to destroy a tree, and in some aggravated cases was severely punished, as in the instance of erisichthon, which we shall soon record. milton, in his glowing description of the early creation, thus alludes to pan as the personification of nature: "universal pan, knit with the graces and the hours in dance, led on the eternal spring." and describing eve's abode: "in shadier bower more sacred or sequestered, though but feigned, pan or sylvanus never slept, nor nymph nor faunus haunted." paradise lost, b. iv. it was a pleasing trait in the old paganism that it loved to trace in every operation of nature the agency of deity. the imagination of the greeks peopled all the regions of earth and sea with divinities, to whose agency it attributed those phenomena which our philosophy ascribes to the operation of the laws of nature. sometimes in our poetical moods we feel disposed to regret the change, and to think that the heart has lost as much as the head has gained by the substitution. the poet wordsworth thus strongly expresses this sentiment: "great god, i'd rather be a pagan, suckled in a creed outworn. so might i, standing on this pleasant lea, have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; have sight of proteus rising from th e sea, and hear old tritou blow his wreathed horn." schiller, in his poem the gods of greece, expresses his regret for the overthrow of the beautiful mythology of ancient times in a way which has called forth an answer from a christian poetess, mrs. browning, in her poem called the dead pan. the two following verses are a specimen: "by your beauty which confesses some chief beauty conquering you, by our grand heroic guesses through your falsehood at the true, we will weep not! earth shall roll heir to each god's aureole, and pan is dead. "earth outgrows the mythic fancies sung beside her in her youth; and those debonaire romances sound but dull beside the truth. phoebus' chariot course is run! look up poets, to the sun! pan, pan is dead." these lines are founded on an early christian tradition that when the heavenly host told the shepherds at bethlehem of the birth of christ, a deep groan, heard through all the isles of greece, told that the great pan was dead, and that all the royalty of olympus was dethroned, and the several deities were sent wandering in cold and darkness. so milton, in his hymn to the nativity: "the lonely mountains o'er, and the resounding shore, a voice of weeping heard and loud lament; from haunted spring and dale, edged with poplar pale, the parting genius is with sighing sent; with flower-enwoven tresses torn, the nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn." erisichthon erisichthon was a profane person and a despiser of the gods. on one occasion he presumed to violate with the axe a grove sacred to ceres. there stood in this grove a venerable oak, so large that it seemed a wood in itself, its ancient trunk towering aloft, whereon votive garlands were often hung and inscriptions carved expressing the gratitude of suppliants to the nymph of the tree. often had the dryads danced round it hand in hand. its trunk measured fifteen cubits round, and it overtopped the other trees as they overtopped the shrubbery. but for all that, erisichthon saw no reason why he should spare it, and he ordered his servants to cut it down. when he saw them hesitate, he snatched an axe from one, and thus impiously exclaimed, :"i care not whether it be a tree beloved of the goddess or not; were it the goddess herself it should come down, if it stood in my way." so saying, he lifted the axe, and the oak seemed to shudder and utter a groan. when the first blow fell upon the trunk, blood flowed from the wound. all the bystanders were horror-struck, and one of them ventured to remonstrate and hold back the fatal axe. erisichthon with a scornful look, said to him, "receive the reward of your piety;" and turned against him the weapon which he had held aside from the tree, gashed his body with many wounds, and cut off his head. then from the midst of the oak came a voice, "i who dwell in this tree am a nymph beloved of ceres, and dying by your hands, forewarn you that punishment awaits you." he desisted not from his crime, and at last the tree, sundered by repeated blows and drawn by ropes, fell with a crash, and prostrated a great part of the grove in its fall. the dryads, in dismay at the loss of their companion, and at seeing the pride of the forest laid low, went in a body to ceres, all clad in garments of mourning, and invoked punishment upon erisichthon. she nodded her assent, and as she bowed her head the grain ripe for harvest in the laden fields bowed also. she planned a punishment so dire that one would pity him, if such a culprit as he could be pitied to deliver him over to famine. as ceres herself could not approach famine, for the fates have ordained that these two goddesses shall never come together, she called an oread from her mountain and spoke to her in these words: "there is a place in the farthest part of ice-clad scythia, a sad and sterile region without trees and without crops. cold dwells there, and fear, and shuddering, and famine. go to famine and tell her to take possession of the bowels of erisichthon. let not abundance subdue her, nor the power of my gifts drive her away. be not alarmed at the distance," (for famine dwells very far from ceres,) "but take my chariot. the dragons are fleet and obey the rein, and will take you through the air in a short time." so she gave her the reins, and she drove away and soon reached scythia. on arriving at mount caucasus she stopped the dragons and found famine in a stony field, pulling up with teeth and claws the scanty herbage. her hair was rough, her eyes sunk, her face pale, her lips blanched, her jaws covered with dust, and her skin drawn tight, so as to show all her bones. as the oread saw her afar off (for she did not dare to come near) she delivered the commands of ceres; and though she stopped as short a time as possible, and kept her distance as well as she could, yet she began to feel hungry, and turned the dragons' heads and drove back to thessaly. in obedience to the commands of ceres, famine sped through the air to the dwelling of erisichthon, entered the bed-chamber of the guilty man, and found him asleep. she enfolded him with her wings and breathed herself into him, infusing her poison into his veins. having discharged her task, she hastened to leave the land of plenty and returned to her accustomed haunts. erisichthon still slept, and in his dreams craved food, and moved his jaws as if eating. when he awoke his hunger was raging. without a moment's delay he would have food set before him, of whatever kind earth, sea, or air produces; and complained of hunger even while he ate. what would have sufficed for a city or a nation was not enough for him. the more he ate, the move he craved. his hunger was like the sea, which receives all the rivers, yet is never filled; or like fire that burns all the fuel that is heaped upon it, yet is still voracious for more. his property rapidly diminished under the unceasing demands of his appetite, but his hunger continued unabated. at length he had spent all, and had only his daughter left, a daughter worthy of a better parent. her too he sold. she scorned to be the slave of a purchaser, and as she stood by the seaside, raised her hands in prayer to neptune. he heard her prayer, and, though her new master was not far off, and had his eye upon her a moment before, neptune changed her form, and made her assume that of a fisherman busy at his occupation. her master, looking for her and seeing her in her altered form, addressed her and said, "good fisherman, whither went the maiden whom i saw just now, with hair dishevelled and in humble garb, standing about where you stand? tell me truly; so may your luck be good, and not a fish nibble at your hook and get away." she perceived that her prayer was answered, and rejoiced inwardly at hearing the question asked her of herself. she replied, "pardon me, stranger, but i have been so intent upon my line, that i have seen nothing else; but i wish i may never catch another fish if i believe any woman or other person except myself to have been hereabouts for some time." he was deceived and went his way, thinking his slave had escaped. then she resumed her own form. her father was well pleased to find her still with him, and the money too that he got by the sale of her; so he sold her again. but she was changed by the favor of neptune as often as she was sold, now into a horse, now a bird, now an ox, and now a stag, got away from her purchasers and came home. by this base method the starving father procured food; but not enough for his wants, and at last hunger compelled him to devour his limbs, and he strove to nourish his body by eating his body, till death relieved him from the vengeance of ceres. rhoecus the hamadryads could appreciate services as well as punish injuries. the story of rhoecus proves this. rhoecus, happening to see an oak just ready to fall, ordered his servants to prop it up. the nymph, who had been on the point of perishing with the tree, came and expressed her gratitude to him for having saved her life, and bade him ask what reward he would have for it. rhoecus boldly asked her love, and the nymph yielded to his desire. she at the same time charged him to be constant, and told him that a bee should be her messenger, and let him know when she would admit his society. one time the bee came to rhoecus when he was playing at draughts, and he carelessly brushed it away. this so incensed the nymph that she deprived him of sight. our countryman, james russell lowell, has taken this story for the subject of one of his shorter poems. he introduces it thus: "hear now this fairy legend of old greece, as full of freedom, youth and beauty still, as the immortal freshness of that grace carved for all ages on some attic frieze." the water deities oceanus and tethys were the titans who ruled over the sea. when jove and his brothers overthrew the titans and assumed their power, neptune and amphitrite succeeded to the dominion of the waters in place of oceanus and tethys. neptune neptune was the chief of the water deities. the symbol of his power was the trident, or spear with three points, with which he used to shatter rocks, to call forth or subdue storms, to shake the shores, and the like. he created the horse, and was the patron of horse races. his own horses had brazen hoofs and golden manes. they drew his chariot over the sea, which became smooth before him, while the monsters of the deep gambolled about his path. amphitrite amphitrite was the wife of neptune. she was the daughter of nereus and doris, and the mother of triton. neptune, to pay his court to amphitrite, came riding on the dolphin. having won her, he rewarded the dolphin by placing him among the stars. nereus and doris nereus and doris were the parents of the nereids, the most celebrated of whom were amphitrite, thetis, the mother of achilles, and galatea, who was loved by the cyclops polyphemus. nereus was distinguished for his knowledge, and his love of truth and justice, and is described as the wise and unerring old man of the sea. the gift of prophecy was also ascribed to him. triton and proteus triton was the son of neptune and amphitrite, and the poets make him his father's trumpeter. proteus was also a son of neptune. he, like nereus, is styled a sea-elder for his wisdom and knowledge of future events. his peculiar power was that of changing his shape at will. thetis thetis, the daughter of nereus and doris, was so beautiful that jupiter himself sought her in marriage; but having learned from prometheus the titan, that thetis should bear a son who should be greater than his father, jupiter desisted from his suit and decreed that thetis should be the wife of a mortal. by the aid of chiron the centaur, peleus succeeded in winning the goddess for his bride, and their son was the renowned achilles. in our chapter on the trojan war it will appear that thetis was a faithful mother to him, aiding him in all difficulties, and watching over his interests from the first to the last. leucothea and palaemon ino, the daughter of cadmus and wife of athamas, flying from her frantic husband, with her little son melicertes in her arms, sprang from a cliff into the sea. the gods, out of compassion, made her a goddess of the sea, under the name of leucothea, and him a god under that of palaemon. both were held powerful to save from shipwreck, and were invoked by sailors. palaemon was usually represented riding on a dolphin. the isthmian games were celebrated in his honor. he was called portumnus by the romans, and believed to have jurisdiction of the ports and shores. milton alludes to all these deities in the song at the conclusion of comus. "sabrina fair, listen and appear to us, in name of great oceanus; by the earth-shaking neptune's mace, and tethys' grave, majestic pace, by hoary nereus' wrinkled look, and the carpathian wizard's hook (proteus) by scaly triton's winding shell, and old soothsaying glaucus; spell, by leucothea's lovely hands, and her son who rules the strands, by thetis' tinsel-slippered feet, and the songs of sirens sweet." armstrong, the poet of the art of preserving health, under the inspiration of hygeia, the goddess of health, thus celebrates the naiads. paeon is a name both of apollo and aesculapius. "come, ye naiads! to the fountains lead! propitious maids! the task remains to sing your gifts (so paeon, so the powers of health command), to praise your crystal element. oh, comfortable streams! with eager lips and trembling hands the languid thirsty quaff new life in you; fresh vigor fills their veins. no warmer cups the rural ages knew, none warmer sought the sires of humankind; happy in temperate peace their equal days felt not the alternate fits of feverish mirth and sick dejection; still serene and pleased, blessed with divine immunity from ills, long centuries they lived; their only fate was ripe old age, and rather sleep than death." the camenae by this name the latins designated the muses, but included under it also some other deities, principally nymphs of fountains. egeria was one of them, whose fountain and grotto are still shown. it was said that numa, the second king of rome, was favored by this nymph with secret interviews, in which she taught him those lessons of wisdom and of law which he embodied in the institutions of his rising nation. after the death of numa the nymph pined away and was changed into a fountain. byron, in childe harold, canto iv., thus alludes to egeria and her grotto: "here didst thou dwell in this enchanted cover, egeria! all thy heavenly bosom beating for the far footsteps of thy mortal lover; the purple midnight veiled that mystic meeting with her most starry canopy." tennyson, also, in his palace of art, gives us a glimpse of the royal lover expecting the interview. "holding one hand against his ear, to list a footfall ere he saw the wood-nymph, stayed the tuscan king to hear of wisdom and of law." the winds when so many less active agencies were personified, it is not to be supposed that the winds failed to be so. they were boreas or aquilo, the north wind, zephyrus or favonius, the west, notus or auster, the south, and eurus, the east. the first two have been chiefly celebrated by the poets, the former as the type of rudeness, the latter of gentleness. boreas loved the nymph orithyia, and tried to play the lover's part, but met with poor success. it was hard for him to breathe gently, and sighing was out of the question. weary at last of fruitless endeavors, he acted out his true character, seized the maiden and carried her off. their children were zetes and calais, winged warriors, who accompanied the argonautic expedition, and did good service in an encounter with those monstrous birds the harpies. zephyrus was the lover of flora. milton alludes to them in paradise lost, where he describes adam waking and contemplating eve still asleep: "he on his side leaning half raised, with looks of cordial love hung over her enamored, and beheld beauty which, whether waking or asleep, shot forth peculiar graces; then with voice, mild as when zephyrus on flora breathes, her hand soft touching, whispered thus, 'awake! my fairest, my espoused, my latest found, heaven's last, best gift, my ever-new delight.'" dr. young, the poet of the night thoughts, addressing the idle and luxurious, says: "ye delicate! who nothing can support (yourselves most insupportable), for whom the winter rose must blow, . . . . . . and silky soft favonious breathe still softer or be chid!" fortuna is the latin name for tyche, the goddess of fortune. the worship of fortuna held a position of much higher importance at rome than did the worship of tyche among the greeks. she was regarded at rome as the goddess of good fortune only, and was usually represented holding the cornucopia. victoria, the latin form for the goddess nike, was highly honored among the conquest-loving romans, and many temples were dedicated to her at rome. there was a celebrated temple at athens to the greek goddess nike apteros, or wingless victory, of which remains still exist. chapter xvi achelous and hercules. admetus and alcestis. antigone. penelope the river-god achelous told the story of erisichthon to theseus and his companions, whom he was entertaining at his hospitable board, while they were delayed on their journey by the overflow of his waters. having finished his story, he added, "but why should i tell of other persons' transformations, when i myself am an instance of the possession of this power. sometimes i become a serpent, and sometimes a bull, with horns on my head. or i should say, i once could do so; but now i have but one horn, having lost one." and here he groaned and was silent. theseus asked him the cause of his grief, and how he lost his horn. to which question the river-god replied as follows: "who likes to tell of his defeats? yet i will not hesitate to relate mine, comforting myself with the thought of the greatness of my conqueror, for it was hercules. perhaps you have heard of the fame of dejanira, the fairest of maidens, whom a host of suitors strove to win. hercules and myself were of the number, and the rest yielded to us two. he urged in his behalf his descent from jove, and his labors by which he had exceeded the exactions of juno, his step-mother. i, on the other hand, said to the father of the maiden, 'behold me, the king of the waters that flow through your land. i am no stranger from a foreign shore, but belong to the country, a part of your realm. let it not stand in my way that royal juno owes me no enmity, nor punishes me with heavy tasks. as for this man, who boasts himself the son of jove, it is either a false pretence, or disgraceful to him if true, for it cannot be true except by his mother's shame.' as i said this hercules scowled upon me, and with difficulty restrained his rage. 'my hand will answer better than my tongue,' said he. 'i yield you the victory in words, but trust my cause to the strife of deeds. with that he advanced towards me, and i was ashamed, after what i had said, to yield. i threw off my green vesture, and presented myself for the struggle. he tried to throw me, now attacking my head, now my body. my bulk was my protection, and he assailed me in vain. for a time we stopped, then returned to the conflict. we each kept our position, determined not to yield, foot to foot, i bending over him, clinching his hands in mine, with my forehead almost touching his. thrice hercules tried to throw me off, and the fourth time he succeeded, brought me to the ground and himself upon my back. i tell you the truth, it was as if a mountain had fallen on me. i struggled to get my arms at liberty, panting and reeking with perspiration. he gave me no chance to recover, but seized my throat. my knees were on the earth and my mouth in the dust. "finding that i was no match for him in the warrior's art, i resorted to others, and glided away in the form of a serpent. i curled my body in a coil, and hissed at him with my forked tongue. he smiled scornfully at this, and said, 'it was the labor of my infancy to conquer snakes.' so saying he clasped my neck with his hands. i was almost choked, and struggled to get my neck out of his grasp. vanquished in this form, i tried what alone remained to me, and assumed the form of a bull. he grasped my neck with his arm, and, dragging my head down to the ground, overthrew me on the sand. nor was this enough. his ruthless hand rent my horn from my head. the naiades took it, consecrated it, and filled it with fragrant flowers. plenty adopted my horn, and made it her own, and called it cornucopia. the ancients were fond of finding a hidden meaning in their mythological tales. they explain this fight of achelous with hercules by saying achelous was a river that in seasons of rain overflowed its banks. when the fable says that achelous loved dejanira, and sought a union with her, the meaning is, that the river in its windings flowed through part of dejanira's kingdom. it was said to take the form of a snake because of its winding, and of a bull because it made a brawling or roaring in its course. when the river swelled, it made itself another channel. thus its head was horned. hercules prevented the return of these periodical overflows, by embankments and canals; and therefore he was said to have vanquished the river-god and cut off his horn. finally, the lands formerly subject to overflow, but now redeemed, became very fertile, and this is meant by the horn of plenty. there is another account of the origin of the cornucopia. jupiter at his birth was committed by his mother rhea to the care of the daughters of melisseus, a cretan king. they fed the infant deity with the milk of the goat amalthea. jupiter broke off one of the horns of the goat and gave it to his nurses, and endowed it with the wonderful power of becoming filled with whatever the possessor might wish. the name of amalthea is also given by some writers to the mother of bacchus. it is thus used by milton, paradise lost, book iv.: "that nyseian isle, girt with the river triton, where old cham, whom gentiles ammon call, and libyan jove, hid amalthea and her florid son, young bacchus, from his stepdame rhea's eye." admetus and alcestis aesculapius, the son of apollo, was endowed by his father with such skill in the healing art that he even restored the dead to life. at this pluto took alarm, and prevailed on jupiter to launch a thunderbolt at aesculapius. apollo was indignant at the destruction of his son, and wreaked his vengeance on the innocent workmen who had made the thunderbolt. these were the cyclopes, who have their workshop under mount aetna, from which the smoke and flames of their furnaces are constantly issuing. apollo shot his arrows at the cyclopes, which so incensed jupiter that he condemned him as a punishment to become he servant of a mortal for the space of one year. accordingly apollo went into the service of admetus, king of thessaly, and pastured his flocks for him on the verdant banks of the river amphrysus. admetus was a suitor, with others, for the hand of alcestis, the daughter of pelias, who promised her to him who should come for her in a chariot drawn by lions and boars. this task admetus performed by the assistance of his divine herdsman, and was made happy in the possession of alcestis. but admetus fell ill, and being near to death, apollo prevailed on the fates to spare him on condition that some one would consent to die in his stead. admetus, in his joy at this reprieve, thought little of the ransom, and perhaps remembering the declarations of attachment which he had often heard from his courtiers and dependents, fancied that it would be easy to find a substitute. but it was not so. brave warriors, who would willingly have perilled their lives for their prince, shrunk from the thought of dying for him on the bed of sickness; and old servants who had experienced his bounty and that of his house from their childhood up, were not willing to lay down the scanty remnant of their days to show their gratitude. men asked, "why does not one of his parents do it? they cannot in the course of nature live much longer, and who can feel like them the call to rescue the life they gave from an untimely end?" but the parents, distressed though they were at the thought of losing him, shrunk from the call. then alcestis, with a generous self-devotion, proffered herself as the substitute. admetus, fond as he was of life, would not have submitted to receive it at such a cost; but there was no remedy. the condition imposed by the fates had been met, and the decree was irrevocable. alcestis sickened as admetus revived, and she was rapidly sinking to the grave. just at this time hercules arrived at the palace of admetus, and found all the inmates in great distress for the impending loss of the devoted wife and beloved mistress. hercules, to whom no labor was too arduous, resolved to attempt her rescue. he went and lay in wait at the door of the chamber of the dying queen, and when death came for his prey, he seized him and forced him to resign his victim. alcestis recovered, and was restored to her husband. milton alludes to the story of alcestis in his sonnet on his deceased wife. "methought i saw my late espoused saint, brought to me like alcestis from the grave, whom jove's great son to her glad husband gave, rescued from death by force, though pale and faint." james russell lowell has chosen the "shepherd of king admetus" for the subject of a short poem. he makes that event the first introduction of poetry to men. "men called him but a shiftless youth, in whom no good they saw, and yet unwittingly, in truth, they made his careless words their law. and day by day more holy grew each spot where he had trod, till after poets only knew their first-born brother was a god." in the love of alcestis, one of the poems in the earthly paradise, mr. morris thus tells the story of the taming of the lions: "---- rising up no more delay he made, but took the staff and gained the palace-door where stood the beasts, whose mingled whine and roar had wrought his dream; there two and two they stood, thinking, it might be, of the tangled wood, and all the joys of the food-hiding trees. but harmless as their painted images 'neath some dread spell; then, leaping up, he took the reins in hand and the bossed leather shook, and no delay the conquered beasts durst make, but drew, not silent; and folk just awake, when he went by as though a god they saw, fell on their knees, and maidens come to draw fresh water from the fount, sank trembling down, and silence held the babbling, wakened town." antigone the poems and histories of legendary greece often relate, as has been seen, to women and their lives. antigone was as bright an example of filial and sisterly fidelity as was alcestis of connubial devotion. she was the daughter of oedipus and jocasta, who, with all their descendants, were the victims of an unrelenting fate, dooming them to destruction. oedipus in his madness had torn out his eyes, and was driven forth from his kingdom thebes, dreaded and abandoned by all men, as an object of divine vengeance. antigone, his daughter, alone shared his wanderings, and remained with him till he died, and then returned to thebes. her brothers, eteocles and polynices, had agreed to share the kingdom between them, and reign alternately year by year. the first year fell to the lot of eteocles, who, when his time expired, refused to surrender the kingdom to his brother. polynices fled to adrastus, king of argos, who gave him his daughter in marriage, and aided him with an army to enforce his claim to the kingdom. this led to the celebrated expedition of the "seven against thebes," which furnished ample materials for the epic and tragic poets of greece. amphiaraus, the brother-in-law of adrastus, opposed the enterprise, for he was a soothsayer, and knew by his art that no one of the leaders except adrastus would live to return. but amphiaraus, on his marriage to eriphyle, the king's sister, had agreed that whenever he and adrastus should differ in opinion, the decision should be left to eriphyle. polynices, knowing this, gave eriphyle the collar of harmonia, and thereby gained her to his interest. this collar or necklace was a present which vulcan had given to harmonia on her marriage with cadmus, and polynices had taken it with him on his flight from thebes. eriphyle could not resist so tempting a bribe, and by her decision the war was resolved on, and amphiaraus went to his certain fate. he bore his part bravely in the contest, but could not avert his destiny. pursued by the enemy he fled along the river, when a thunderbolt launched by jupiter opened the ground, and he, his chariot, and his charioteer, were swallowed up. it would not be in place here to detail all the acts of heroism or atrocity which marked the contest; but we must not omit to record the fidelity of evadne as an offset to the weakness of eriphyle. capaneus, the husband of evadne, in the ardor of the fight, declared that he would force his way into the city in spite of jove himself. placing a ladder against the wall, he mounted, but jupiter, offended at his impious language, struck him with a thunderbolt. when his obsequies were celebrated, evadne cast herself on his funeral pile and perished. early in the contest eteocles consulted the soothsayer tiresias as to the issue. tiresias, in his youth, had by chance seen minerva bathing. the goddess in her wrath deprived him of his sight, but afterwards relenting gave him in compensation the knowledge of future events. when consulted by eteocles, he declared that victory should fall to thebes if menoeceus, the son of creon, gave himself a voluntary victim. the heroic youth, learning the response, threw away his life in the first encounter. the siege continued long, with various success. at length both hosts agreed that the brothers should decide their quarrel by single combat. they fought and fell by each other's hands. the armies then renewed the fight, and at last the invaders were forced to yield, and fled, leaving their dead unburied. creon, the uncle of the fallen princes, now become king, caused eteocles to be buried with distinguished honor, but suffered the body of polynices to lie where it fell, forbidding every one, on pain of death, to give it burial. antigone, the sister of polynices, heard with indignation the revolting edict which consigned her brother's body to the dogs and vultures, depriving it of those rites which were considered essential to the repose of the dead. unmoved by the dissuading counsel of an affectionate but timid sister, and unable to procure assistance, she determined to brave the hazard and to bury the body with her own hands. she was detected in the act, and creon gave orders that she should be buried alive, as having deliberately set at nought the solemn edict of the city. her love, haemon, the son of creon, unable to avert her fate, would not survive her, and fell by his own hand. antigone forms the subject of two fine tragedies of the grecian poet sophocles. mrs. jameson, in her characteristics of women, has compared her character with that of cordelia, in shakespeare's king lear. the perusal of her remarks cannot fail to gratify our readers. the following is the lamentation of antigone over oedipus, when death has at last relieved him from his sufferings: "alas! i only wished i might have died with my poor father; wherefore should i ask for longer life? oh, i was fond of misery with him; e'en what was most unlovely grew beloved when he was with me. oh, my dearest father, beneath the earth now in deep darkness hid, worn as thou wert with age, to me thou still wast dear, and shalt be ever." francklin's sophocles penelope penelope is another of those mythic heroines whose beauties were rather those of character and conduct than of person. she was the daughter of icarius, a spartan prince. ulysses, king of ithaca, sought her in marriage, and won her over all competitors. when the moment came for the bride to leave her father's house, icarius, unable to bear the thoughts of parting with his daughter, tried to persuade her to remain with him, and not accompany her husband to ithaca. ulysses gave penelope her choice, to stay or go with him. penelope made no reply, but dropped her veil over her face. icarius urged her no further, but when she was gone erected a statue to modesty on the spot where they parted. ulysses and penelope had not enjoyed their union more than a year when it was interrupted by the events which called ulysses to the trojan war. during his long absence, and when it was doubtful whether he still lived, and highly improbable that he would ever return, penelope was importuned by numerous suitors, from whom there seemed no refuge but in choosing one of them for her husband. penelope, however, employed every art to gain time, still hopping for ulysses' return. one of her arts of delay was engaging in the preparation of a robe for the funeral canopy of laertes, her husband's father. she pledged herself to make her choice among the suitors when the robe was finished. during the day she worked at the robe, but in the night she undid the work of the day. this is the famous penelope's web, which is used as a proverbial expression for anything which is perpetually doing but never done. the rest of penelope's history will be told when we give an account of her husband's adventures. chapter xvii orpheus and eurydice. artistaeus. amphion. linus. thamyris. marsyas. melampus. musaeus orpheus was the son of apollo and the muse calliope. he was presented by his father with a lyre and taught to play upon it, and he played to such perfection that nothing could withstand the charm of his music. not only his fellow mortals, but wild beasts were softened by his strains, and gathering round him laid by their fierceness, and stood entranced with his lay. nay, the very trees and rocks were sensible to the charm. the former crowded round him and the latter relaxed somewhat of their hardness, softened by his notes. hymen had been called to bless with his presence the nuptials of orpheus with eurydice; but though he attended, he brought no happy omens with him. his very torch smoked and brought tears into their eyes. in coincidence with such prognostics eurydice, shortly after her marriage, while wandering with the nymphs, her companions, was seen by the shepherd aristaeus, who was struck with her beauty, and made advances to her. she fled, and in flying trod upon a snake in the grass, was bitten in the foot and died. orpheus sang his grief to all who breathed the upper air, both gods and men, and finding it all unavailing resolved to seek his wife in the regions of the dead. he descended by a cave situated on the side of the promontory of taenarus and arrived at the stygian realm. he passed through crowds of ghosts, and presented himself before the throne of pluto and proserpine. accompanying the words with the lyre, he sung, "o deities of the underworld, to whom all we who live must come, hear my words, for they are true! i come not to spy out the secrets of tartarus, nor to try my strength against the three-headed dog with snaky hair who guards the entrance. i come to seek my wife, whose opening years the poisonous viper's fang has brought to an untimely end. love had led me here, love, a god all powerful with us who dwell on the earth, and, if old traditions say true, not less so here. i implore you by these abodes full of terror, these realms of silence and uncreated things, unite again the thread of eurydice's life. we all are destined to you, and sooner or later must pass to your domain. she too, when she shall have filled her term of life, will rightly be yours. but till then grant her to me, i beseech you. if you deny me, i cannot return alone; you shall triumph in the death of us both." as he sang these tender strains, the very ghosts shed tears. tantalus, in spite of his thirst, stopped for a moment his efforts for water, ixion's wheel stood still, the vulture ceased to tear the giant's liver, the daughters of danaus rested from their task of drawing water in a sieve, and sisyphus sat on his rock to listen. then for the first time, it is said, the cheeks of the furies were wet with tears. proserpine could not resist, and pluto himself gave way. eurydice was called. she came from among the new-arrived ghosts, limping with her wounded foot. orpheus was permitted to take her away with him on one condition, that he should not turn round to look at her till they should have reached the upper air. under this condition they proceeded on their way, he leading, she following, through passages dark and steep, in total silence, till they had nearly reached the outlet into the cheerful upper world, when orpheus, in a moment of forgetfulness, to assure himself that she was still following, cast a glance behind him, when instantly she was borne away. stretching out their arms to embrace one another they grasped only the air. dying now a second time she yet cannot reproach her husband, for how can she blame his impatience to behold her? "farewell," she said, "a last farewell," and was hurried away, so fast that the sound hardly reached his ears. orpheus endeavored to follow her, and besought permission to return and try once more for her release but the stern ferryman repulsed him and refused passage. seven days he lingered about the brink, without food or sleep; then bitterly accusing of cruelty the powers of erebus, he sang his complaints to the rocks and mountains, melting the hearts of tigers and moving the oaks from their stations. he held himself aloof from womankind, dwelling constantly on the recollection of his sad mischance. the thracian maidens tried their best to captivate him, but he repulsed their advances. they bore with him as long as they could; but finding him insensible, one day, one of them, excited by the rites of bacchus, exclaimed, "see yonder our despiser!" and threw at him her javelin. the weapon, as soon as it came within the sound of his lyre, fell harmless at his feet. so did also the stones that they threw at him. but the women raised a scream and drowned the voice of the music, and then the missiles reached him and soon were stained with his blood. the maniacs tore him limb from limb, and threw his head and his lyre into the river hebrus, down which they floated, murmuring sad music, to which the shores responded a plaintive symphony. the muses gathered up the fragments of his body and buried them at libethra, where the nightingale is said to sing over his grave more sweetly than in any other part of greece. his lyre was placed by jupiter among the stars. his shade passed a second time to tartarus, where he sought out his eurydice and embraced her, with eager arms. they roam through those happy fields together now, sometimes he leads, sometimes she; and orpheus gazes as much as he will upon her, no longer incurring a penalty for a thoughtless glance. the story of orpheus has furnished pope with an illustration of the power of music, for his ode for st. cecelia's day. the following stanza relates the conclusion of the story: "but soon, too soon the lover turns his eyes; again she falls, again she dies, she dies! how wilt thou now the fatal sisters move? no crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love. now under hanging mountains, beside the falls of fountains, or where hebrus wanders, rolling in meanders, all alone, he makes his moan, and calls her ghost, forever, ever, ever lost! now with furies surrounded, despairing, confounded, he trembles, he glows, amidst rhodope's snows. see, wild as the winds o'er the desert he flies; hark! haemus resounds with the bacchanals' cries. ah, see, he dies! yet even in death eurydice he sung, eurydice still trembled on his tongue; eurydice the woods, eurydice the floods, eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung." the superior melody of the nightingale's song over the grave of orpheus, is alluded to by southey in his thalaba: "then on his ear what sounds of harmony arose! far music and the distance-mellowed song from bowers of merriment; the waterfall remote; the murmuring of the leafy groves; the single nightingale perched in the rosier by, so richly toned, that never from that most melodious bird singing a love-song to his brooding mate, did thracian shepherd by the grave of orpheus hear a sweeter melody, though there the spirit of the sepulchre all his own power infuse, to swell the incense that he loves." aristaeus, the bee-keeper man avails himself of the instincts of the inferior animals for his own advantage. hence sprang the art of keeping bees. honey must first have been known as a wild product, the bees building their structures in hollow trees or holes in the rocks, or any similar cavity that chance offered. thus occasionally the carcass of a dead animal would be occupied by the bees for that purpose. it was no doubt from some such incident that the superstition arose that the bees were engendered by the decaying flesh of the animal; and virgil, in the following story (from the georgies, book iv. . ), shows how this supposed fact may be turned to account for renewing the swarm when it has been lost by disease or accident. the shepherd aristaeus, who first taught the management of bees, was the son of the water-nymph cyrene. his bees had perished, and he resorted for aid to his mother. he stood at the river side and thus addressed her: "oh, mother, the pride of my life is taken from me! i have lost my precious bees. my care and skill have availed me nothing, and you, my mother, have not warded off from me the blow of misfortune." his mother heard these complaints as she sat in her palace at the bottom of the river with her attendant nymphs around her. they were engaged in female occupations, spinning and weaving, while one told stories to amuse the rest. the sad voice of aristaeus interrupting their occupation, one of them put her head above the water and seeing him, returned and gave information to his mother, who ordered that he should be brought into her presence. the river at her command opened itself and let him pass in, while it stood curled like a mountain on either side. he descended to the region where the fountains of the great rivers lie; he saw the enormous receptacles of waters and was almost deafened with the roar, while he surveyed them hurrying off in various directions to water the face of the earth. arriving at his mother's apartment he was hospitably received by cyrene and her nymphs, who spread their table with the richest dainties. they first poured out libations to neptune, then regaled themselves with the feast, and after that cyrene thus addressed him: "there is an old prophet named proteus, who dwells in the sea and is a favorite of neptune, whose herd of sea-calves he pastures. we nymphs hold him in great respect, for he is a learned sage, and knows all things, past, present, and to come. he can tell you, my son, the cause of the mortality among your bees, and how you may remedy it. but he will not do it voluntarily, however you may entreat him. you must compel him by force. if you seize him and chain him, he will answer your questions in order to get released, for he cannot, by all his arts, get away if you hold fast the chains. i will carry you to his cave, where he comes at noon to take his midday repose. then you may easily secure him. but when he finds himself captured, his resort is to a power he possesses of changing himself into various forms. he will become a wild boar or a fierce tiger, a scaly dragon, or lion with yellow mane. or he will make a noise like the crackling of flames or the rush of water, so as to tempt you to let go the chain, when he will make his escape. but you have only to keep him fast bound, and at last when he finds all his arts unavailing, he will return to his own figure and obey your commands." so saying she sprinkled her son with fragrant nectar, the beverage of the gods, and immediately an unusual vigor filled his frame and courage his heart, while perfume breathed all around him. the nymph led her son to the prophet's cave, and concealed him among the recesses of the rocks, while she herself took her place behind the clouds. then noon came and the hour when men and herds retreat from the glaring sun to indulge in quiet slumber, proteus issued from the water, followed hy his herd of sea- calves, which spread themselves along the shore. he sat on the rock and counted his herd; then stretched himself on the floor of the cave and went to sleep. aristaeus hardly allowed him to get fairly asleep before he fixed the fetters on him and shouted aloud. proteus, waking and finding himself captured, immediately resorted to his arts, becoming first a fire, then a flood, then a horrible wild beast, in rapid succession. but trying all in vain, he at last resumed his own form and addressed the youth in angry accents: "who are you, bold youth, who thus invade my abode, and what do you want with me?" aristaeus replied, "proteus, you know already, for it is needless for any one to attempt to deceive you. and do you also cease your efforts to elude me. i am led hither by divine assistance, to know from you the cause of my misfortune and how to remedy it." at these words the prophet, fixing on him his gray eyes with a piercing look, thus spoke: "you received the merited reward of your deeds, by which eurydice met her death, for in flying from you she trod upon a serpent, of whose bite she died. to avenge her death the nymphs, her companions, have sent this destruction bo your bees. you have to appease their anger, and thus it must be done: select four bulls of perfect form and size, and four cows of equal beauty, build four altars to the nymphs, and sacrifice the animals, leaving their carcasses in the leafy grove. to orpheus and eurydice you shall pay such funeral honors as may allay their resentment. returning after nine days you will examine the bodies of the cattle slain and see what will befall." aristaeus faithfully obeyed these directions. he sacrificed the cattle, he left their bodies in the grove, he offered funeral honors to the shades of orpheus and eurydice; then returning on the ninth day he examined the bodies of the animals, and, wonderful to relate! a swarm of bees had taken possession of one of the carcasses, and were pursuing their labors there as in a hive. in the task, cowper alludes to the story of aristaeus, when speaking of the ice-palace built by the empress anne of russia. he has been describing the fantastic forms which ice assumes in connection with waterfalls, etc." "less worthy of applause though more admired, because a novelty, the work of man, imperial mistress of the fur-clad russ, thy most magnificent and mighty freak, the wonder of the north. no forest fell when thou wouldst build, no quarry sent its stores t'enrich thy walls; but thou didst hew the floods and make thy marble of the glassy wave. in such a palace aristaeus found cyrene, when he bore the plaintive tale of his lost bees to her maternal ear." milton also appears to have had cyrene and her domestic scene in his mind when he describes to us sabrina, the nymph of the river severn, in the guardian-spirit's song in comus: "sabrina fair! listen when thou art sitting under the glassy, cool, translucent wave in twisted braids of lilies knitting the loose train of thy amber-dropping hair; listen for dear honor's sake, goddess of the silver lake! listen and save." the following are other celebrated mythical poets and musicians, some of whom were hardly inferior to orpheus himself: amphion amphion was the son of jupiter and antiope, queen of thebes. with his twin brother zethus he was exposed at birth on mount cithaeron, where they grew up among the shepherds, not knowing their parentage. mercury gave amphion a lyre, and taught him to play upon it, and his brother occupied himself in hunting and tending the flocks. meanwhile antiope, their mother, who had been treated with great cruelty by lycus, the usurping king of thebes, and by dirce, his wife, found means to inform her children of their rights, and to summon them to her assistance. with a band of their fellow-herdsmen they attacked and slew lycus, and tying dirce by the hair of her head to a bull, let him drag her till she was dead (the punishment of dirce is the subject of a celebrated group of statuary now in the museum at naples). amphion, having become king of thebes fortified the city with a wall. it is said that when he played on his lyre the stones moved of their own accord and took their places in the wall. in tennyson's poem of amphion is an amusing use of this story: "oh, had i lived when song was great, in days of old amphion, and ta'en my fiddle to the gate nor feared for reed or scion! and had i lived when song was great, and legs of trees were limber, and ta'en my fiddle to the gate, and fiddled to the timber! "'tis said he had a tuneful tongue, such happy intonation, wherever he sat down and sung he left a small plantation; whenever in a lonely grove he set up his forlorn pipes, the gouty oak began to move and flounder into hornpipes." linus linus was the instructor of hercules in music, but having one day reproved his pupil rather harshly, he roused the anger of hercules, who struck him with his lyre and killed him. thamyris an ancient thracian bard, who in his presumption challenged the muses to a trial of skill, and being overcome in the contest was deprived by them of his sight. milton alludes to him with other blind bards, when speaking of his own blindness (paradise lost, book iii. ). marsyas minerva invented the flute, and played upon it to the delight of all the celestial auditors; but the mischievous urchin cupid having dared to laugh at the queer face which the goddess made while playing, minerva threw the instrument indignantly away, and it fell down to earth, and was found by marsyas. he blew upon it, and drew from it such ravishing sounds that he was tempted to challenge apollo himself to a musical contest. the god of course triumphed, and punished marsyas by flaying him alive. melampus melampus was the first mortal endowed with prophetic powers. before his house there stood an oak tree containing a serpent's nest. the old serpents were killed by the servants, but melampus took care of the young ones and fed them carefully. one day when he was asleep under the oak, the serpents licked his ears with their tongues. on awaking he was astonished to find that he now understood the language of birds and creeping things. this knowledge enabled him to foretell future events, and he became a renowned soothsayer. at one time his enemies took him captive and kept him strictly imprisoned. melampus in the silence of night heard the wood-worms in the timbers talking together, and found out by what they said that the timbers were nearly eaten through, and the roof would soon fall in. he told his captors and demanded to be let out, warning them also. they took his warning, and thus escaped destruction, and rewarded malampus and held him in high honor. musaeus a semi-mythological personage who was represented by one tradition to be the son of orpheus. he is said to have written sacred poems and oracles. milton couples his name with that of orpheus in his il penseroso: "but, oh, sad virgin, that thy power might raise musaeus from his bower, or bed the soul of orpheus sing such notes as warbled to the string, drew iron tears down pluto's cheek, and made hell grant what love did seek." chapter xviii arion. ibycus. simonides. sappho the poets whose adventures compose this chapter were real persons, some of whose works yet remain, and their influence on poets who succeeded them is yet more important than their poetical remains. the adventures recorded of them in the following stories rest on the same authority as other narratives of the age of fable, that is, that of the poets who have told them. in their present form, the first two are translated from the german, the story of arion from schlegel, and that of ibycus from schiller. arion arion was a famous musician, and dwelt at the court of periander, king of corinth, with whom he was a great favorite. there was to be a musical contest in sicily, and arion longed to compete for the prize. he told his wish to periander, who besought him like a brother to give up the thought. "pray stay with me," he said, "and be contented. he who strives to win may lose." arion answered, "a wandering life best suits the free heart of a poet. the talent which a god bestowed on me, i would fain make a source of pleasure to others. and if i win the prize, how will the enjoyment of it be increased by the consciousness of my wide- spread fame!" he went, won the prize, and embarked with his wealth in a corinthian ship for home. on the second morning after setting sail, the wind breathed mild and fair. "oh, periander," he exclaimed, "dismiss your fears! soon shall you forget them in my embrace. with what lavish offerings will we display our gratitude to the gods, and how merry will we be at the festal board!" the wind and sea continued propitious. not a cloud dimmed the firmament. he had not trusted too much to the ocean, but he had to man. he overheard the seamen exchanging hints with one another, and found they were plotting to possess themselves of his treasure. presently they surrounded him loud and mutinous, and said, "arion, you must die! if you would have a grave on shore, yield yourself to die on this spot; but if otherwise, cast yourself into the sea." "will nothing satisfy you but my life?" said he. "take my gold, and welcome. i willingly buy my life at that price." "no, no; we cannot spare you. your life will be too dangerous to us. where could we go to escape from periander, if he should know that you had been robbed by us? your gold would be of little use to us, if, on returning home, we could never more be free from fear." "grant me, then," said he, "a last request, since nought will avail to save my life, that i may die as i have lived, as becomes a bard. when i shall have sung my death-song, and my harp-strings shall cease to vibrate, then i will bid farewell to life, and yield uncomplaining to my fate." this prayer, like the others, would have been unheeded, they thought only of their booty, but to hear so famous a musician, that moved their rude hearts. "suffer me," he added, "to arrange my dress. apollo will not favor me unless i be clad in my minstrel garb." he clothed his well-proportioned limbs in gold and purple fair to see, his tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adorned his arms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath, and over his neck and shoulders flowed his hair perfumed with odors. his left hand held the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he struck its chords. like one inspired, he seemed to drink the morning air and glitter in the morning ray. the seamen gazed with admiration. he strode forward to the vessel's side and looked down into the blue sea. addressing his lyre, he sang, "companion of my voice, come with me to the realm of shades. though cerberus may growl, we know the power of song can tame his rage. ye heroes of elysium, who have passed the darkling flood, ye happy souls, soon shall i join your band. yet can ye relieve my grief? alas, i leave my friend behind me. thou, who didst find thy eurydice, and lose her again as soon as found; when she had vanished like a dream, how didst thou hate the cheerful light! i must away, but i will not fear. the gods look down upon us. ye who slay me unoffending, when i am no more, your time of trembling shall come. ye nereids, receive your guest, who throws himself upon your mercy!" so saying, he sprang into the deep sea. the waves covered him, and the seamen held on their way, fancying themselves safe from all danger of detection. but the strains of his music had drawn round him the inhabitants of the deep to listen, and dolphins followed the ship as if chained by a spell. while he struggled in the waves, a dolphin offered him his back, and carried him mounted thereon safe to shore. at the spot where he landed, a monument of brass was afterwards erected upon the rocky shore, to preserve the memory of the event. when arion and the dolphin parted, each to his own element, arion thus poured forth his thanks. "farewell, thou faithful, friendly fish! would that i could reward thee; but thou canst not wend with me, nor i with thee. companionship we may not have. may galatea, queen of the deep, accord thee her favor, and thou, proud of the burden, draw her chariot over the smooth mirror of the deep." arion hastened from the shore, and soon saw before him the towers of corinth. he journeyed on, harp in hand, singing as he went, full of love and happiness, forgetting his losses, and mindful only of what remained, his friend and his lyre. he entered the hospitable halls, and was soon clasped in the embrace of periander. "i come back to thee, my friend," he said. "the talent which a god bestowed has been the delight of thousands, but false knaves have stripped me of my well-earned treasure; yet i retain the consciousness of wide-spread fame." then he told periander all the wonderful events that had befallen him, who heard him with amazement. "shall such wickedness triumph?" said he. "then in vain is power lodged in my hands. that we may discover the criminals, you must remain here in concealment, and so they will approach without suspicion." when the ship arrived in the harbor, he summoned the mariners before him. "have you heard anything of arion?" he inquired. "i anxiously look for his return." they replied, "we left him well and prosperous in tarentum." as they said these words, arion stepped forth and faced them. his well proportioned limbs were arrayed in gold and purple fair to see, his tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adorned his arms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath, and over his neck and shoulders flowed his hair perfumed with odors; his left hand held the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he struck its chords. they fell prostrate at his feet, as if a lightning bolt had struck them. "we meant to murder him, and he has become a god. o earth, open and receive us!" then periander spoke. "he lives, the master of the lay! kind heaven protects the poet's life. as for you, i invoke not the spirit of vengeance; arion wishes not your blood. ye slaves of avarice, begone! seek some barbarous land, and never may aught beautiful delight your souls!" spencer represents arion, mounted on his dolphin, accompanying the train of neptune and amphitrite: "then was there heard a most celestial sound of dainty music which did next ensue, and, on the floating waters as enthroned, arion with his harp unto him drew the ears and hearts of all that goodly crew; even when as yet the dolphin which him bore through the aegean seas from pirates' view, stood still, by him astonished at his love, and all the raging seas for joy forgot to roar." byron, in his childe harold, canto ii., alludes to the story of arion, when, describing his voyage, he represents one of the seamen making music to entertain the rest: "the moon is up; by heaven, a lovely eve! long streams of light o'er dancing waves expand; now lads on shore may sigh and maids believe; such be our fate when we return to land! meantime some rude arion's restless hand wakes the brisk harmony that sailors love; a circle there of merry listeners stand, or to some well-known measure featly move thoughtless as if on shore they still were free to rove." ibycus in order to understand the story of ibycus which follows, it is necessary to remember, first, that the theatres of the ancients were immense buildings providing seats for from ten to thirty thousand spectators, and as they were used only on festal occasions, and admission was free to all, they were usually filled. they were without roofs and open to the sky, and the performances were in the daytime. secondly, the appalling representation of the furies is not exaggerated in the story. it is recorded that aeschylus, the tragic poet, having on one occasion represented the furies in a chorus of fifty performers, the terror of the spectators was such that many fainted and were thrown into convulsions, and the magistrates forbade a like representation for the future. ibycus, the pious poet, was on his way to the chariot races and musical competitions held at the isthmus of corinth, which attracted all of grecian lineage. apollo had bestowed on him the gift of song, the honeyed lips of the poet, and he pursued his way with lightsome step, full of the god. already the towers of corinth crowning the height appeared in view, and he had entered with pious awe the sacred grove of neptune. no living object was in sight, only a flock of cranes flew overhead, taking the same course as himself in their migration to a southern clime. "good luck to you, ye friendly squadrons," he exclaimed, "my companions from across the sea. i take your company for a good omen. we come from far, and fly in search of hospitality. may both of us meet that kind reception which shields the stranger guest from harm!" he paced briskly on, and soon was in the middle of the wood. there suddenly, at a narrow pass, two robbers stepped forth and barred his way. he must yield or fight. but his hand, accustomed to the lyre and not to the strife of arms, sank powerless. he called for help on men and gods, but his cry reached no defender's ear. "then here must i die," said he, "in a strange land, unlamented, cut off by the hand of outlaws, and see none to avenge my cause." sore wounded he sank to the earth, when hoarse screamed the cranes overhead. "take up my cause, ye cranes," he said, "since no voice but yours answers to my cry." so saying, he closed his eyes in death. the body, despoiled and mangled, was found, and though disfigured with wounds, was recognized by the friend in corinth who had expected him as a guest. "is it thus i find you restored to me?" he exclaimed; "i who hoped to entwine your temples with the wreath of triumph in the strife of song!" the guests assembled at the festival heard the tidings with dismay. all greece felt the wound, every heart owned its loss. they crowded round the tribunal of the magistrates, and demanded vengeance on the murderers and expiation with their blood. but what trace or mark shall point out the perpetrator from amidst the vast multitude attracted by the splendor of the feat? did he fall by the hands of robbers, or did some private enemy slay him? the all-discerning sun alone can tell, for no other eye beheld it. yet not improbably the murderer even now walks in the midst of the throng, and enjoys the fruits of his crime, while vengeance seeks for him in vain. perhaps in their own temple's enclosure he defies the gods, mingling freely in this throng of men that now presses into the ampitheatre. for now crowded together, row on row, the multitude fill the seats till it seems as if the very fabric would give way. the murmur of voices sounds like the roar of the sea, while the circles widening in their ascent rise, tier on tier, as if they would reach the sky. and now the vast assemblage listens to the awful voice of the chorus personating the furies, which in solemn guise advances with measured step, and moves around the circuit of the theatre. can they be mortal women who compose that awful group, and can that vast concourse of silent forms be living beings! the choristers, clad in black, bore in their fleshless hands torches blazing with a pitchy flame. their cheeks were bloodless, and in place of hair, writing and swelling serpents curled around their brows. forming a circle, these awful beings sang their hymn, rending the hearts of the guilty, and enchaining all their faculties. it rose and swelled, overpowering the sound of the instruments, stealing the judgment, palsying the heart, curdling the blood. "happy the man who keeps his heart pure from guilt and crime! him we avengers touch not; he treads the path of life secure from us. but woe! woe! to him who has done the deed of secret murder. we, the fearful family of night, fasten ourselves upon his whole being. thinks he by flight to escape us? we fly still faster in pursuit, twine our snakes around his feet and bring him to the ground. unwearied we pursue; no pity checks our course; still on and on to the end of life, we give him no peace nor rest." thus the eumenides sang, and moved in solemn cadence, while stillness like the stillness of death sat over the whole assembly as if in the presence of superhuman beings; and then in solemn march completing the circuit of the theatre, they passed out at the back of the stage. every heart fluttered between illusion and reality, and every breast panted with undefined terror, quailing before the awful power that watches secret crimes and winds unseen the skein of destiny. at that moment a cry burst forth from one of the uppermost benches "look! look! comrade, yonder are the cranes of ibycus!" and suddenly there appeared sailing across the sky a dark object which a moment's inspection showed to be a flock of cranes flying directly over the theatre. "of ibycus! did he say?" the beloved name revived the sorrow in every breast. as wave follows wave over the face of the sea, so ran from mouth to mouth the words, "of ibycus! him whom we all lament, with some murderer's hand laid low! what have the cranes to do with him?" and louder grew the swell of voices, while like a lightning's flash the thought sped through every heart, "observe the power of the eumenides! the pious poet shall be avenged! the murderer has informed against himself. seize the man who uttered that cry and the other to whom he spoke!" the culprit would gladly have recalled his words, but it was too late. the faces of the murderers pale with terror betrayed their guilt. the people took them before the judge, they confessed their crime and suffered the punishment they deserved. simonides simonides was one of the most prolific of the early poets of greece, but only a few fragments of his compositions have descended to us. he wrote hymns, triumphal odes, and elegies. in the last species of composition he particularly excelled. his genius was inclined to the pathetic, and none could touch with truer effect the chords of human sympathy. the lamentation of danae, the most important of the fragments which remain of his poetry is based upon the tradition that danae and her infant son were confined by order of her father acrisius in a chest and set adrift on the sea. the chest floated towards the island of seriphus, where both were rescued by dictys, a fisherman, and carried to polydectes, king of the country, who received and protected them. the child perseus when grown up became a famous hero, whose adventures have been recorded in a previous chapter. simonides passed much of his life at the courts of princes, and often employed his talents in panegyric and festal odes, receiving his reward from the munificence of those whose exploits he celebrated. this employment was not derogatory, but closely resembles that of the earliest bards, such as demodocus, described by homer, or of homer himself as recorded by tradition. on one occasion when residing at the court of scopas, king of thessaly, the prince desired him to prepare a poem in celebration of his exploits, to be recited at a banquet. in order to diversify his theme, simonides, who was celebrated for his piety, introduced into his poem the exploits of castor and pollux. such digressions were not unusual with the poets on similar occasions, and one might suppose an ordinary mortal might have been content to share the praises of the sons of leda. but vanity is exacting; and as scopas sat at his festal board among his courtiers and sycophants, he grudged every verse that did not rehearse his own praises. when simonides approached to receive the promised reward scopas bestowed but half the expected sum, saying, "here is payment for my portion of the performance, castor and pollux will doubtless compensate thee for so much as relates to them." the disconcerted poet returned to his seat amidst the laughter which followed the great man's jest. in a little time he received a message that two young men on horseback were waiting without and anxious to see him. simonides hastened to the door, but looked in vain for the visitors. scarcely however had he left the banqueting-hall when the roof fell in with a loud crash, burying scopas and all his guests beneath the ruins. on inquiring as to the appearance of the young men who had sent for him, simonides was satisfied that they were no other than castor and pollux themselves. sappho sappho was a poetess who flourished in a very early age of greek literature. of her works few fragments remain, but they are enough to establish her claim to eminent poetical genius. the story of sappho commonly alluded to is that she was passionately in love with a beautiful youth named phaon, and failing to obtain a return of affection she threw herself from the promontory of leucadia into the sea, under a superstition that those who should take that "lover's-leap," would, if not destroyed, be cured of their love. byron alludes to the story of sappho in childe harold, canto ii.: those who wish to know more of sappho and her leap, are referred to the spectator, nos. and , and also to moore's evenings in greece. chapter xix endymion. orion. aurora and tithonus. acis and galatea endymion was a beautiful youth who fed his flock on mount latmos. one calm, clear night, diana, the moon, looked down and saw him sleeping. the cold heart of the virgin goddess was warmed by his surpassing beauty, and she came down to him, kissed him, and watched over him while he slept. another story was that jupiter bestowed on him the gift of perpetual youth united with perpetual sleep. of one so gifted we can have but few adventures to record. diana, it was said, took care that his fortunes should not suffer by his inactive life, for she made his flock increase, and guarded his sheep and lambs from the wild beasts. the story of endymion has a peculiar charm from the human meaning which it so thinly veils. we see in endymion the young poet, his fancy and his heart seeking in vain for that which can satisfy them, finding his favorite hour in the quiet moonlight, and nursing there beneath the beams of the bright and silent witness the melancholy and the ardor which consumes him. the story suggests aspiring and poetic love, a life spent more in dreams than in reality, and an early and welcome death. s. g. bulfinch the endymion of keats is a wild and fanciful poem, containing some exquisite poetry, as this, to the moon: "the sleeping kine couched in thy brightness dream of fields divine. innumerable mountains rise, and rise, ambitious for the hallowing of thine eyes, and yet thy benediction passeth not one obscure hiding place, one little spot where pleasure may be sent; the nested wren has thy fair face within its tranquil ken." dr. young in the night thoughts alludes to endymion thus: "these thoughts, o night, are thine; from thee they came like lovers' secret sighs, while others slept. so cynthia, poets feign, in shadows veiled, soft, sliding from her sphere, her shepherd cheered, of her enamored less than i of thee." fletcher, in the faithful shepherdess, tells, "how the pale phoebe, hunting in a grove, first saw the boy endymion, from whose eyes she took eternal fire that never dies; how she conveyed him softly in a sleep, his temples bound with poppy, to the steep head of old latmos, where she stoops each night, gilding the mountain with her brother's light, to kiss her sweetest." orion orion was the son of neptune. he was a handsome giant and a mighty hunter. his father gave him the power of wading through the depths of the sea, or as others say, of walking on its surface. orion loved merope, the daughter of oenopion, king of chios, and sought her in marriage. he cleared the island of wild beasts, and brought the spoils of the chase as presents to his beloved; but as oenopion constantly deferred his consent, orion attempted to gain possession of the maiden by violence. her father, incensed at this conduct, having made orion drunk, deprived him of his sight, and cast him out on the sea shore. the blinded hero followed the sound of the cyclops' hammer till he reached lemnos, and came to the forge of vulcan, who, taking pity on him, gave him kedalion, one of his men, to be his guide to the abode of the sun. placing kedalion on his shoulders, orion proceeded to the east, and there meeting the sun-god, was restored to sight by his beam. after this he dwelt as a hunter with diana, with whom he was a favorite, and it is even said she was about to marry him. her brother was highly displeased and often chid her, but to no purpose. one day, observing orion wading though the sea with his head just above the water, apollo pointed it out to his sister and maintained that she could not hit that black thing on the sea. the archer-goddess discharged a shaft with fatal aim. the waves rolled the dead body of orion to the land, and bewailing her fatal error with many tears, diana placed him among the stars, where he appears as a giant, with a girdle, sword, lion's skin, and club. sirius, his dog, follows him, and the pleiads fly before him. the pleiads were daughters of atlas, and nymphs of diana's train. one day orion saw them, and became enamored, and pursued them. in their distress they prayed to the gods to change their form, and jupiter in pity turned them into pigeons, and then made them a constellation in the sky. though their numbers was seven, only six stars are visible, for electra, one of them, it is said, left her place that she might not behold the ruin of troy, for that city was founded by her son dardanus. the sight had such an effect on her sisters that they have looked pale ever since. mr. longfellow has a poem on the "occultation of orion." the following lines are those in which he alludes to the mythic story. we must premise that on the celestial globe orion is represented as robed in a lion's skin and wielding a club. at the moment the stars of the constellation one by one were quenched in the light of the moon, the poet tells us, "down fell the red skin of the lion into the river at his feet. his mighty club no longer beat the forehead of the bull; but he reeled as of yore beside the sea, when blinded by oenopion he sought the blacksmith at his forge, and climbing up the narrow gorge, fixed his blank eyes upon the sun." tennyson has a different theory of the pleiads: "many a night i saw the pleiads, rising through the mellow shade, glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid." locksley hall byron alludes to the lost pleiad: "like the lost pleiad seen no more below." see also mrs. heman's verses on the same subject. aurora and tithonus. aurora, the goddess of the dawn, like her sister the moon, was at times inspired with the love of mortals. her greatest favorite was tithonus, son of laomedon, king of troy. she stole him away, and prevailed on jupiter to grant him immortality; but forgetting to have youth joined in the gift, after some time she began to discern, to her great mortification, that he was growing old. when his hair was quite white she left his society; but he still had the range of her palace, lived on ambrosial food, and was clad in celestial raiment. at length he lost the power of using his limbs, and then she shut him up in his chamber, whence his feeble voice might at times be heard. finally she turned him into a grasshopper. memnon was the son of aurora and tithonus. he was king of the aethiopians, and dwelt in the extreme east, on the shore of ocean. he came with his warriors to assist the kindred of his father in the war of troy. king priam received him with great honors, and listened with admiration to his narrative of the wonders of the ocean shore. the very day after his arrival, memnon, impatient of repose, led his troops to the field. antilochus, the brave son of nestor, fell by his hand, and the greeks were put to flight, when achilles appeared and restored the battle. a long and doubtful contest ensued between him and the son of aurora; at length victor declared for achilles, memnon fell, and the trojans fled in dismay. aurora, who, from her station in the sky, had viewed with apprehension the danger of her son, when she saw him fall directed his brothers, the winds, to convey his body to the banks of the river esepus in paphlagonia. in the evening aurora came, accompanied by the hours and the pleiads, and wept and lamented over her son. night, in sympathy with her grief, spread the heaven with clouds; all nature mourned for the offspring of the dawn. the aethiopians raised his tomb on the banks of the stream in the grove of the nymphs, and jupiter caused the sparks and cinders of his funeral-pile to be turned into birds, which, dividing into two flocks, fought over the pile till they fell into the flame. every year, at the anniversary of his death, they return and celebrate his obsequies in like manner. aurora remains inconsolable for the loss of her son. her tears still flow, and may be seen at early morning in the form of dew-drops on the grass. unlike most of the marvels of ancient mythology, there will exist some memorials of this. on the banks of the river nile, in egypt, are two colossal statues, one of which is said to be the statue of memnon. ancient writers record that when the first rays of the rising sun fall upon this statue, a sound is heard to issue from it which they compare to the snapping of a harp- string. there is some doubt about the identification of the existing statue with the one described by the ancients, and the mysterious sounds are still more doubtful. yet there are not wanting some modern testimonies to their being still audible. it has been suggested that sounds produced by confined air making its escape from crevices or caverns in the rocks may have given some ground for the story. sir gardner wilkinson, a late traveller, of the highest authority, examined the statue itself, and discovered that it was hollow, and that "in the lap of the statue is a stone, which, on being struck, emits a metallic sound, that might still be made use of to deceive a visitor who was predisposed to believe its powers." the vocal statue of memnon is a favorite subject of allusion with the poets. darwin, in his botanic garden, says, "so to the sacred sun in memnon's fane spontaneous concords choired the matin strain; touched by his orient beam responsive rings the living lyre and vibrates all its strings; accordant aisles the tender tones prolong, and holy echoes swell the adoring song." acis and galatea scylla was a fair virgin of sicily, a favorite of the sea-nymphs. she had many suitors, but repelled them all, and would go to the grotto of galatea, and tell her how she was persecuted. one day the goddess, while scylla dressed her hair, listened to the story, and then replied, "yet, maiden, your persecutors are of the not ungentle race of men, whom if you will you can repel; but i, the daughter of nereus, and protected by such a band of sisters, found no escape from the passion of the cyclops but in the depths of the sea;" and tears stopped her utterance, which when the pitying maiden had wiped away with her delicate finger, and soothed the goddess, "tell me, dearest," said she, "the cause of your grief." galatea then said, "acis was the son of faunus and a naiad. his father and mother loved him dearly, but their love was not equal to mine. for the beautiful youth attached himself to me alone, and he was just sixteen years old, the down just beginning to darken his cheeks. as much as i sought his society, so much did the cyclops seek mine; and if you ask me whether my love for acis or my hatred for polyphemus was the stronger, i cannot tell you; they were in equal measure. oh, venus, how great is thy power! this fierce giant, the terror of the woods, whom no hapless stranger escaped unharmed, who defied even jove himself, learned to feel what love was, and touched with a passion for me, forgot his flocks and his well-stored caverns. then, for the first time, he began to take some care of his appearance, and to try to make himself agreeable; he harrowed those coarse locks of his with a comb, and mowed his beard with a sickle, looked at his harsh features in the water, and composed his countenance. his love of slaughter, his fierceness and thirst of blood prevailed no more, and ships that touched at his island went away in safety. he paced up and down the sea-shore, imprinting huge tracks with his heavy tread, and, when weary, lay tranquilly in his cave. "there is a cliff which projects into the sea, which washes it on either side. thither one day the huge cyclops ascended, and sat down while his flocks spread themselves around. laying down his staff which would have served for a mast to hold a vessel's sail, and taking his instrument, compacted of numerous pipes, he made the hills and the waters echo the music of his song. i lay hid under a rock, by the side of my beloved acis, and listened to the distant strain. it was full of extravagant praises of my beauty, mingled with passionate reproaches of my coldness and cruelty. "when he had finished he rose up, and like a raging bull, that cannot stand still, wandered off into the woods. acis and i thought no more of him, till on a sudden he came to a spot which gave him a view of us as we sat. 'i see you,' he exclaimed, 'and i will make this the last of your love-meetings.' his voice was a roar such as an angry cyclops alone could utter. aetna trembled at the sound. i, overcome with terror, plunged into the water. acis turned and fled, crying, 'save me, galatea, save me, my parents!" the cyclops pursued him, and tearing a rock from the side of the mountain hurled it at him. though only a corner of it touched him it overwhelmed him. "all that fate left in my power i did for acis. i endowed him with the honors of his grandfather the river-god. the purple blood flowed out from under the rock, but by degrees grew paler and looked like the stream of a river rendered turbid by rains, and in time it became clear. the rock cleaved open, and the water, as it gushed from the chasm, uttered a pleasing murmur." thus acis was changed into a river, and the river retains the name of acis. chapter xx the trojan war minerva was the goddess of wisdom, but on one occasion she did a very foolish thing; she entered into competition with juno and venus for the prize of beauty. it happened thus. at the nuptials of peleus and thetis all the gods were invited with the exception of eris, or discord. enraged at her exclusion, the goddess threw a golden apple among the guests with the inscription, "for the most beautiful." thereupon juno, venus, and minerva, each claimed the apple. jupiter not willing to decide in so delicate a matter, sent the goddesses to mount ida, where the beautiful shepherd paris was tending his flocks, and to him was committed the decision. the goddesses accordingly appeared before him. juno promised him power and riches, minerva glory and renown in war, and venus the fairest of women for his wife, each attempting to bias his decision in her own favor. paris decided in favor of venus and gave her the golden apple, thus making the two other goddesses his enemies. under the protection of venus, paris sailed to greece, and was hospitably received by menelaus, king of sparta. now helen, the wife of menelaus, was the very woman whom venus had destined for paris, the fairest of her sex. she had been sought as a bride by numerous suitors, and before her decision was made known, they all, at the suggestion of ulysses, one of their number, took an oath that they would defend her from all injury and avenge her cause if necessary. she chose menelaus, and was living with him happily when paris became their guest. paris, aided by venus, persuaded her to elope with him, and carried her to troy, whence arose the famous trojan war, the theme of the greatest poems of antiquity, those of homer and virgil. menelaus called upon his brother chieftains of greece to fulfil their pledge, and join him in his efforts to recover his wife. they generally came forward, but ulysses, who had married penelope and was very happy in his wife and child, had no disposition to embark in such a troublesome affair. he therefore hung back and palamedes was sent to urge him. when palamedes arrived at ithaca, ulysses pretended to be mad. he yoked an ass and an ox together to the plough and began to sow salt. palamedes, to try him, placed the infant telemachus before the plough, whereupon the father turned the plough aside, showing plainly that he was no madman, and after that could no longer refuse to fulfil his promise. being now himself gained for the undertaking, he lent his aid to bring in other reluctant chiefs, especially achilles. this hero was the son of that thetis at whose marriage the apple of discord had been thrown among the goddesses. thetis was herself one of the immortals, a sea-nymph, and knowing that her son was fated to perish before troy if he went on the expedition, she endeavored to prevent his going. she sent him away to the court of king lycomedes, and induced him to conceal himself in the disguise of a maiden among the daughters of the king. ulysses, hearing he was there, went disguised as a merchant to the palace and offered for sale female ornaments, among which he had placed some arms. while the king's daughters were engrossed with the other contents of the merchant's pack, achilles handled the weapons and thereby betrayed himself to the keen eye of ulysses, who found no great difficulty in persuading him to disregard his mother's prudent counsels and join his countrymen in the war. priam was king of troy, and paris, the shepherd and seducer of helen, was his son. paris had been brought up in obscurity, because there were certain ominous forebodings connected with him from his infancy that he would be the ruin of the state. these forebodings seemed at length likely to be realized, for the grecian armament now in preparation was the greatest that had ever been fitted out. agamemnon, king of mycenae, and brother of the injured menelaus, was chosen commander-in-chief. achilles was their most illustrious warrior. after him ranked ajax, gigantic in size and of great courage, but dull of intellect, diomedes, second only to achilles in all the qualities of a hero, ulysses, famous for his sagacity, and nestor, the oldest of the grecian chiefs, and one to whom they all looked up for counsel. but troy was no feeble enemy. priam, the king, was now old, but he had been a wise prince and had strengthened his state by good government at home and numerous alliances with his neighbors. but the principal stay and support of his throne was his son hector, one of the noblest characters painted by heathen antiquity. hector felt, from the first, a presentiment of the fall of his country, but still persevered in his heroic resistance, yet by no means justified the wrong which brought this danger upon her. he was united in marriage with andromache, and as a husband and father his character was not less admirable than as a warrior. the principal leaders on the side of the trojans, besides hector, were aeneas and deiphobus, glaucus and sarpedon. after two years of preparation the greek fleet and army assembled in the port of aulis in boeotia. here agamemnon in hunting killed a stag which was sacred to diana, and the goddess in return visited the army with pestilence, and produced a calm which prevented the ships from leaving the port. calchas the soothsayer thereupon announced that the wrath of the virgin goddess could only be appeased by the sacrifice of a virgin on her altar, and that none other but the daughter of the offender would be acceptable. agamemnon, however reluctant, yielded his consent, and the maiden iphigenia was sent for under the pretence that she was to be married to achilles. when she was about to be sacrificed the goddess relented and snatched her away, leaving a hind in her place, and iphigenia enveloped in a cloud was carried to tauris, where diana made her priestess of her temple. tennyson, in his dream of fair women, makes iphigenia thus describe her feelings at the moment of sacrifice, the moment represented in our engraving: "i was cut off from hope in that sad place, which yet to name my spirit loathes and fears; my father held his hand upon his face; i, blinded by my tears, "still strove to speak; my voice was thick with sighs, as in a dream. dimly i could descry the stern black-bearded kings, with wolfish eyes, waiting to see me die. "the tall masts quivered as they lay afloat, the temples and the people and the shore; one drew a sharp knife through my tender throat slowly, and nothing more." the wind now proving fair the fleet made sail and brought the forces to the coast of troy. the trojans came to oppose their landing, and at the first onset protesilaus fell by the hand of hector. protesilaus had left at home his wife laodamia, who was most tenderly attached to him. when the news of his death reached her she implored the gods to be allowed to converse with him only three hours. the request was granted. mercury led protesilaus back to the upper world, and when he died a second time laodamia died with him. there was a story that the nymphs panted elm trees round his grave which grew very well till they were high enough to command a view of troy, and then withered away, while fresh branches sprang from the roots. wordsworth has taken the story of protesilaus and laodamia for the subject of a poem. it seems the oracle had declared that victory should be the lot of that party from which should fall the first victim to the war. the poet represents protesilaus, on his brief return to earth, as relating to laodamia the story of his fate: "the wished-for wind was given; i then revolved the oracle, upon the silent sea; and if no worthier led the way, resolved that of a thousand vessels mine should be the foremost prow impressing to the strand, mine the first blood that tinged the trojan sand. "yet bitter, ofttimes bitter was the pang when of thy loss i thought, beloved wife! on thee too fondly did my memory hang, and on the joys we shared in mortal life, the paths which we had trod, these fountains, flowers; my new planned cities and unfinished towers. "but should suspense permit the foe to cry, 'behold they tremble! haughty their array, yet of their number no one dares to die!'" in soul i swept the indignity away; old frailties then recurred; but lofty thought in act embodied my deliverance wrought. . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . upon the side of hellespont (such faith was entertained) a knot of spiry trees for ages grew from out the tomb of him for whom she died; and ever when such stature they had gained that ilium's walls were subject to their view, the trees' tall summits withered at the sight, a constant interchange of growth and blight!" the iliad the war continued without decisive results for nine years. then an event occurred which seemed likely to be fatal to the cause of the greeks, and that was a quarrel between achilles and agamemnon. it is at this point that the great poem of homer, the iliad, begins. the greeks, though unsuccessful against troy, had taken the neighboring and allied cities, and in the division of the spoil a female captive, by name chryseis, daughter of chryses, priest of apollo, had fallen to the share of agamemnon. chryses came bearing the sacred emblems of his office, and begged the release of his daughter. agamemnon refused. thereupon chryses implored apollo to afflict the greeks till they should be forced to yield their prey. apollo granted the prayer of his priest, and sent pestilence into the grecian camp. then a council was called to deliberate how to allay the wrath of the gods and avert the plague. achilles boldly charged their misfortunes upon agamemnon as caused by his withholding chryseis. agamemnon enraged, consented to relinquish his captive, but demanded that achilles should yield to him in her stead briseis, a maiden who had fallen to achilles' share in the division of the spoil. achilles submitted, but forthwith declared that he would take no further part in the war. he withdrew his forces from the general camp and openly avowed his intention of returning home to greece. the gods and goddesses interested themselves as much in this famous war as the parties themselves. it was well known to them that fate had decreed that troy should fall, at last, if her enemies should persevere and not voluntarily abandon the enterprise. yet there was room enough left for chance to excite by turns the hopes and fears of the powers above who took part with either side. juno and minerva, in consequence of the slight put upon their charms by paris, were hostile to the trojans; venus for the opposite cause favored them. venus enlisted her admirer mars on the same side, but neptune favored the greeks. apollo was neutral, sometimes taking one side, sometimes the other, and jove himself, though he loved the good king priam, yet exercised a degree of impartiality; not however without exceptions. thetis, the mother of achilles, warmly resented the injury done to her son. she repaired immediately to jove's palace, and besought him to make the greeks repent of their injustice to achilles by granting success to the trojan arms. jupiter consented; and in the battle which ensued the trojans were completely successful. the greeks were driven from the field, and took refuge in their ships. then agamemnon called a council of his wisest and bravest chiefs. nestor advised that an embassy should be sent to achilles to persuade him to return to the field; that agamemnon should yield the maiden, the cause of the dispute, with ample gifts to atone for the wrong he had done. agamemnon consented, and ulysses, ajax, and phoenix were sent to carry to achilles the penitent message. they performed that duty, but achilles was deaf to their entreaties. he positively refused to return to the field, and persisted in his resolution to embark for greece without delay. the greeks had constructed a rampart around their ships, and now, instead of besieging troy, they were in a manner besieged themselves within their rampart. the next day after the unsuccessful embassy to achilles, a battle was fought, and the trojans, favored by jove, were successful, and succeeded in forcing a passage through the grecian rampart, and were about to set fire to the ships. neptune, seeing the greeks so pressed, came to their rescue. he appeared in the form of calchas the prophet, encouraged the warriors with his shouts, and appealed to each individually till he raised their ardor to such a pitch that they forced the trojans to give way. ajax performed prodigies of valor, and at length encountered hector. ajax shouted defiance, to which hector replied, and hurled his lance at the huge warrior. it was well aimed, and struck ajax where the belts that bore his sword and shield crossed each other on the breast. the double guard prevented its penetrating, and it fell harmless. then ajax, seeing a huge stone, one of those that served to prop the ships, hurled it at hector. it struck him in the neck and stretched him on the plain. his followers instantly seized him, and bore him off stunned and wounded. while neptune was thus aiding the greeks and driving back the trojans, jupiter saw nothing of what was going on, for his attention had been drawn from the field by the wiles of juno. that goddess had arrayed herself in all her charms, and, to crown all, had borrowed of venus her girdle called cestus, which had the effect to heighten the wearer's charms to such a degree that they were quite irresistible. so prepared, juno went to join her husband, who sat on olympus watching the battle. when he beheld her she looked so charming that the fondness of his early love revived, and, forgetting the contending armies and all other affairs of state, he thought only of her and let the battle go as it would. but this absorption did not continue long, and when, upon turning his eyes downward, he beheld hector stretched on the plain almost lifeless from pain and bruises, he dismissed juno in a rage, commanding her to send iris and apollo to him. when iris came he sent her with a stern message to neptune, ordering him instantly to quit the field. apollo was dispatched to heal hector's bruises and to inspirit his heart. these orders were obeyed with such speed that while the battle still raged, hector returned to the field and neptune betook himself to his own dominions. an arrow from paris's bow wounded machaon, son of aesculapius, who inherited his father's art of healing, and was therefore of great value to the greeks as their surgeon, besides being one of their bravest warriors. nestor took machaon in his chariot and conveyed him from the field. as they passed the ships of achilles, that hero, looking out over the field, saw the chariot of nestor and recognized the old chief, but could not discern who the wounded chief was. so calling patroclus, his companion and dearest friend, he sent him to nestor's tent to inquire. patroclus, arriving at nestor's tent, saw machaon wounded, and having told the cause of his coming would have hastened away, but nestor detained him, to tell him the extent of the grecian calamities. he reminded him also how, at the time of departing for troy, achilles and himself had been charged by their respective fathers with different advice; achilles to aspire to the highest pitch of glory, patroclus, as the elder, to keep watch over his friend, and to guide his inexperience. "now," said nestor, "is the time for such influence. if the gods so please, thou mayest win him back to the common cause; but if not let hm at least send his soldiers to the field, and come thou, patroclus, clad in his armor, and perhaps the very sight of it may drive back the trojans." patroclus was strongly moved with this address, and hastened back to achilles, revolving in his mind all he had seen and heard. he told the prince the sad condition of affairs at the camp of their late associates; diomedes, ulysses, agamemnon, machaon, all wounded, the rampart broken down, the enemy among the ships preparing to burn them, and thus to cut off all means of return to greece. while they spoke the flames burst forth from one of the ships. achilles, at the sight, relented so far as to grant patroclus his request to lead the myrmidons (for so were achilles' soldiers called) to the field, and to lend him his armor that he might thereby strike more terror into the minds of the trojans. without delay the soldiers were marshalled, patroclus put on the radiant armor and mounted the chariot of achilles, and led forth the men ardent for battle. but before he went, achilles strictly charged him that he should be content with repelling the foe. "seek not," said he, "to press the trojans without me, lest thou add still more to the disgrace already mine." then exhorting the troops to do their best he dismissed them full of ardor to the fight. patroclus and his myrmidons at once plunged into the contest where it raged hottest; at the sight of which the joyful grecians shouted and the ships reechoed the acclaim. the trojans, at the sight of the well-known armor, struck with terror, looked every where for refuge. first those who had got possession of the ship and set it on fire left and allowed the grecians to retake it and extinguish the flames. then the rest of the trojans fled in dismay. ajax, menelaus, and the two sons of nestor performed prodigies of valor. hector was forced to turn his horses' heads and retire from the enclosure, leaving his men entangled in the fosse to escape as they could. patroclus drove them before him, slaying many, none daring to make a stand against him. at last sarpedon, son of jove, ventured to oppose himself in fight to patroclus. jupiter looked down upon him and would have snatched him from the fate which awaited him, but juno hinted that if he did so it would induce all others of the inhabitants of heaven to interpose in like manner whenever any of their offspring were endangered; to which reason jove yielded. sarpedon threw his spear but missed patroclus, but patroclus threw his with better success. it pierced sarpedon's breast and he fell, and, calling to his friends to save his body from the foe, expired. then a furious contest arose for the possession of the corpse. the greeks succeeded and stripped sarpedon of his armor; but jove would not allow the remains of his son to be dishonored, and by his command apollo snatched from the midst of the combatants the body of sarpedon and committed it to the care of the twin brothers death and sleep, by whom it was transported to lycia, the native land of sarpedon, where it received due funeral rites. thus far patroclus had succeeded to his utmost wish in repelling the trojans and relieving his countrymen, but now came a change of fortune. hector, borne in his chariot, confronted him. patroclus threw a vast stone at hector, which missed its aim, but smote cebriones, the charioteer, and knocked him from the car. hector leaped from the chariot to rescue his friend, and patroclus also decended to complete his victory. thus the two heroes met face to face. at this decisive moment the poet, as if reluctant to give hector the glory, records that phoebus took part against patroclus. he struck the helmet from his head and the lance from his hand. at the same moment an obscure trojan wounded him in the back, and hector pressing forward pierced him with his spear. he fell mortally wounded. then arose a tremendous conflict for the body of patroclus, but his armor was at once taken possession of by hector, who, retiring a short distance, divested himself of his own armor and put on that of achilles, then returned to the fight. ajax and menelaus defended the body, and hector and his bravest warriors struggled to capture it. the battle raged with equal fortune, when jove enveloped the whole face of heaven with a dark cloud. the lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and ajax, looking round for some one whom he might dispatch to achilles to tell him of the death of his friend and of the imminent danger that his remains would fall into the hands of the enemy, could see no suitable messenger. it was then that he exclaimed in those famous lines so often quoted, "father of heaven and earth! deliver thou achaia's host from darkness; clear the skies; give day; and, since thy sovereign will is such, destruction with it; but, oh, give us day." cowper. or, as rendered by pope, "lord of earth and air! oh, king! oh, father! hear my humble prayer! dispel this cloud, the light of heaven restore; give me to see and ajax asks no more; if greece must perish we thy will obey but let us perish in the face of day." jupiter heard the prayer and dispersed the clouds. then ajax sent antilochus to achilles with the intelligence of patroclus's death, and of the conflict raging for his remains. the greeks at last succeeded in bearing off the body to the ships, closely pursued by hector and aeneas and rest of the trojans. achilles heard the fate of his friend with such distress that antilochus feared for a while that he would destroy himself. his groans reached the ears of his mother, thetis, far down in the deeps of ocean where she abode, and she hastened to him to inquire the cause. she found him overwhelmed with self-reproach that he had indulged his resentment so far, and suffered his friend to fall a victim to it. but his only consolation was the hope of revenge. he would fly instantly in search of hector. but his mother reminded him that he was now without armor, and promised him, if he would but wait till the morrow, she would procure for him a suit of armor from vulcan more than equal to that he had lost. he consented, and thetis immediately repaired to vulcan's palace. she found him busy at his forge making tripods for his own use, so artfully constructed that they moved forward of their own accord when wanted, and retired again when dismissed. on hearing the request of thetis, vulcan immediately laid aside his work and hastened to comply with her wishes. he fabricated a splendid suit of armor for achilles, first a shield adorned with elaborate devices, then a helmet crested with gold, then a corslet and greaves of impenetrable temper, all perfectly adapted to his form, and of consummate workmanship. it was all done in one night, and thetis, receiving it, descended with it to earth and laid it down at achilles' feet at the dawn of day. the first glow of pleasure that achilles had felt since the death of petroclus was at the sight of this splendid armor. and now arrayed in it, he went forth into the camp, calling all the chiefs to council. when they were all assembled he addressed them. renouncing his displeasure against agamemnon and bitterly lamenting the miseries that had resulted from it, he called on them to proceed at once to the field. agamemnon made a suitable reply, laying all the blame on ate, the goddess of discord, and thereupon complete reconcilement took place between the heroes. then achilles went forth to battle, inspired with a rage and thirst for vengeance that made him irresistible. the bravest warriors fled before him or fell by his lance. hector, cautioned by apollo, kept aloof, but the god, assuming the form of one of priam's sons, lycaon, urged aeneas to encounter the terrible warrior. aeneas, though he felt himself unequal, did not decline the combat. he hurled his spear with all his force against the shield, the work of vulcan. it was formed of five metal plates; two were of brass, two of tin, and one of gold. the spear pierced two thicknesses, but was stopped in the third. achilles threw his with better success. it pierced through the shield of aeneas, but glanced near his shoulder and made no wound. then aeneas seized a stone, such as two men of modern times could hardly lift, and was about to throw it, and achilles, with sword drawn, was about to rush upon him, when neptune, who looked out upon the contest, moved with pity for aeneas, who he saw would surely fall a victim if not speedily rescued, spread a cloud between the combatants, and lifting aeneas from the ground, bore him over the heads of warriors and steeds to the rear of the battle. achilles, when the mist cleared away, looked round in vain for his adversary, and acknowledging the prodigy, turned his arms against other champions. but none dared stand before him, and priam looking down from his city walls beheld his whole army in full flight towards the city. he gave command to open wide the gates to receive the fugitives, and to shut them as soon as the trojans should have passed, lest the enemy should enter likewise. but achilles was so close in pursuit that that would have been impossible if apollo had not, in the form of agenor, priam's son, encountered achilles for a while, then turned to fly, and taken the way apart from the city. achilles pursued and had chased his supposed victim far from the walls, when apollo disclosed himself, and achilles, perceiving how he had been deluded, gave up the chase. but when the rest had escaped into the town hector stood without, determined to await the combat. his old father called to him from the walls and begged him to retire nor tempt the encounter. his mother, hecuba, also besought him to the same effect, but all in vain. "how can i," said he to himself, "by whose command the people went to this day's contest, where so many have fallen, seek safety for myself against a single foe? but what if i offer him to yield up helen and all her treasures and ample of our own beside? ah no! it is too late. he would not even hear me through, but slay me while i spoke." while he thus ruminated, achilles approached, terrible as mars, his armor flashing lighting as he moved. at that sight hector's heart failed him and he fled. achilles swiftly pursued. they ran, still keeping near the walls, till they had thrice encircled the city. as often as hector approached the walls achilles intercepted him and forced him to keep out in a wider circle. but apollo sustained hector's strength, and would not let him sink in weariness. then pallas, assuming the form of deiphobus, hector's bravest brother, appeared suddenly at his side. hector saw him with delight, and, thus strengthened, stopped his flight and turned to meet achilles. hector threw his spear, which struck the shield of achilles and bounded back. he turned to receive another from the hand of deiphobus, but deiphobus was gone. then hector understood his doom and said, "alas! it is plain this is my hour to die! i thought deiphobus at hand, but pallas deceived me, and he is still in troy. but i will not fall inglorious." so saying, he drew his falchion from his side and rushed at once to combat. achilles, secured behind his shield, waited the approach of hector. when he came within reach of his spear, achilles, choosing with his eye a vulnerable part where the armor leaves the neck uncovered, aimed his spear at that part, and hector fell, death-wounded, and feebly said, "spare my body! let my parents ransom it, and let me receive funeral rites from the sons and daughters of troy." to which achilles replied, "dog, name not ransom nor pity to me, on whom you have brought such dire distress. no! trust me, nought shall save thy carcass from the dogs. though twenty ransoms and thy weight in gold were offered, i would refuse it all." so saying, he stripped the body of its armor, and fastening cords to the feet, tied them behind his chariot, leaving the body to trail along the ground. then mounting the chariot he lashed the steeds, and so dragged the body to and fro before the city. what words can tell the grief of king priam and queen hecuba at this sight! his people could scarce restrain the old king from rushing forth. he threw himself in the dust, and besought them each by name to give him way. hecuba's distress was not less violent. the citizens stood round them weeping. the sound of the mourning reached the ears of andromache, the wife of hector, as she sat among her maidens at work, and anticipating evil she went forth to the wall. when she saw the sight there presented, she would have thrown herself headlong from the wall, but fainted and fell into the arms of her maidens. recovering, she bewailed her fate, picturing to herself her country ruined, herself a captive, and her son dependent for his bread on the charity of strangers. when achilles and the greeks had taken their revenge on the killer of patroclus they busied themselves in paying due funeral rites to their friend. a pile was erected, and the body burned with due solemnity; and then ensued games of strength and skill, chariot races, wrestling, boxing, and archery. then the chiefs sat down to the funeral banquet and after that retired to rest. but achilles neither partook of the feast nor of sleep. the recollection of his lost friend kept him awake, remembering their companionship in toil and dangers, in battle or on the perilous deep. before the earliest dawn he left his tent, and joining to his chariot his swift steeds, he fastened hector's body to be dragged behind. twice he dragged him round the tomb of patroclus, leaving him at length stretched in the dust. but apollo would not permit the body to be torn or disfigured with all this abuse, but preserved it free from all taint or defilement. when achilles indulged his wrath in thus disgracing brave hector, jupiter in pity summoned thetis to his presence. he told her to go to her son and prevail on him to restore the body of hector to his friends. then jupiter sent iris to king priam to encourage him to go to achilles and beg the body of his son. iris delivered her message, and priam immediately prepared to obey. he opened his treasures and took out rich garments and cloths, with ten talents in gold and two splendid tripods and a golden cup of matchless workmanship. then he called to his sons and bade them draw forth his litter and place in it the various articles designed for a ransom to achilles. when all was ready, the old king with a single companion, as aged as himself, the herald idaeus, drove forth from the gates, parting there with hecuba his queen, and all his friends, who lamented him as going to certain death. but jupiter, beholding with compassion the venerable king, sent mercury to be his guide and protector. mercury, assuming the form of a young warrior, presented himself to the aged couple, and while at the sight of him they hesitated whether to fly or yield, the god approached, and grasping priam's hand, offered to be their guide to achilles' tent. priam gladly accepted his offered service, and he, mounting the carriage, assumed the reins and soon conveyed them to the tent of achilles. mercury's wand put to sleep all the guards, and without hindrance he introduced priam into the tent where achilles sat, attended hy two of his warriors. the old king threw himself at the feet of achilles and kissed those terrible hands which had destroyed so many of his sons. "think, o achilles," he said, "of thy own father, full of days like me, and trembling on the gloomy verge of life. perhaps even now some neighbor chief oppresses him, and there is none at hand to succor him in his distress. yet doubtless knowing that achilles lives he still rejoices, hoping that one day he shall see thy face again. but no comfort cheers me, whose bravest sons, so late the flower of ilium, all have fallen. yet one i had, one more than all the rest the strength of my age, whom fighting for his country, thou hast slain. i come to redeem his body, bringing inestimable ransom with me. achilles, reverence the gods! recollect thy father! for his sake show compassion to me!" these words moved achilles and he wept; remembering by turns his absent father and his lost friend. moved with pity of priam's silver locks and beard, he raised him from the earth and thus spake: "priam, i know that thou has reached this place conducted by some god, for without divine aid no mortal even in the prime of youth had dared the attempt. i grant thy request; moved thereto by the evident will of jove." so saying he arose, and went forth with his two friends, and unloaded of its charge the litter, leaving two mantles and a robe for the covering of the body, which they placed on the litter, and spread the garments over it, that not unveiled it should be borne back to troy. then achilles dismissed the old king with his attendants, having first pledged himself to allow a truce of twelve days for the funeral solemnities. as the litter approached the city and was descried from the walls, the people poured forth to gaze once more on the face of their hero. foremost of all, the mother and the wife of hector came, and at the sight of the lifeless body renewed their lamentations. the people all wept with them, and to the going down of the sun there was no pause or abatement of their grief. the next day preparations were made for the funeral solemnities. for nine days the people brought wood and built the pile, and on the tenth they placed the body on the summit and applied the torch; while all troy, thronging forth, encompassed the pile. when it had completely burned, they quenched the cinders with wine, collected the bones and placed them in a golden urn, which they buried in the earth, and reared a pile of stones over the spot. "such honors ilium to her hero paid, and peaceful slept the mighty hector's shade." pope's homer chapter xxi the fall of troy. return of the greeks. orestes and electra the story of the iliad ends with the death of hector, and it is from the odyssey and later poems that we learn the fate of the other heroes. after the death of hector, troy did not immediately fall, but receiving aid from new allies still continued its resistance. one of these allies was memnon, the aethiopian prince, whose story we have already told. another was penthesilea, queen of the amazons, who came with a band of female warriors. all the authorities attest their valor and the fearful effect of their war-cry. penthesilea slew many of the bravest warriors, but was at last slain by achilles. but when the hero bent over his fallen foe, and contemplated her beauty, youth and valor, he bitterly regretted his victory. thersites, an insolent brawler and demagogue, ridiculed his grief, and was in consequence slain by the hero. achilles by chance had seen polyxena, daughter of king priam, perhaps on occasion of the truce which was allowed the trojans for the burial of hector. he was captivated with her charms, and to win her in marriage agreed to use his influence with the greeks to grant peace to troy. while in the temple of apollo, negotiating the marriage, paris discharged at him a poisoned arrow, which guided by apollo, wounded achilles in the heel, the only vulnerable part about him. for thetis, his mother, had dipped him when an infant in the river styx, which made every part of him invulnerable except the heel by which she held him. (the story of the invulnerability of achilles is not found in homer, and is inconsistent with his account. for how could achilles require the aid of celestial armor if he were invulnerable?) the body of achilles, so treacherously slain, was rescued by ajax and ulysses. thetis directed the greeks to bestow her son's armor on the hero who, of all survivors, should be judged most deserving of it. ajax and ulysses were the only claimants; a select number of the other chiefs were appointed to award the prize. it was awarded to ulysses, thus placing wisdom before valor; whereupon ajax slew himself. on the spot where his blood sank into the earth a flower sprang up, called the hyacinth, bearing on its leaves the first two letters of the name of ajax, ai, the greek for "woe." thus ajax is a claimant with the boy hyacinthus for the honor of giving birth to this flower. there is a species of larkspur which represents the hyacinth of the poets in preserving the memory of this event, the delphinium ajacis ajax's larkspur. it was now discovered that troy could not be taken but by the arrows of hercules. they were in possession of philoctetes, the friend who had been with hercules at the last, and lighted his funeral pyre. philoctetes had joined the grecian expedition against troy, but had accidentally wounded his foot with one of the poisoned arrows, and the smell from his wound proved so offensive that his companions carried him to the isle of lemnos and left him there. diomedes was now sent to induce him to rejoin the army. he succeeded. philoctetes was cured of his wound by machaon, and paris was the first victim of the fatal arrows. in his distress paris bethought him of one whom in his prosperity he had forgotten. this was the nymph oenone, whom he had married when a youth, and had abandoned for the fatal beauty helen. oenone, remembering the wrongs she had suffered, refused to heal the wound, and paris went back to troy and died. oenone quickly repented, and hastened after him with remedies, but came too late, and in her grief hung herself. tennyson has chosen oenone as the subject of a short poem; but he has omitted the concluding part of the story, the return of paris wounded, her cruelty and subsequent repentance. "---- hither came at noon mournful oenone, wandering forlorn of paris, once her playmate on the hills. her cheek had lost the rose, and round her neck floated her hair, or seemed to float in rest. she, leaning on a fragment twined with vine, sang to the stillness, till the mountain-shade sloped downward to her seat from the upper cliff. . . . . . . . . . . . . . "'o mother ida, many-fountain'd ida, dear mother ida, hearken ere i die. i waited underneath the dawning hills, aloft the mountain lawn was dewy-dark, and dewy-dark aloft the mountain pine: beautiful paris, evil-hearted paris, leading a jet-black goat, white-horned, white-hooved, come up from reedy simois, all alone. "'o mother ida, hearken ere i die. far off the torrent called me from the cliff: far up the solitary morning smote the streaks of virgin snow. with downdropt eyes i sat alone: white-breasted like a star fronting the dawn he moved; a leopard-skin drooped from his shoulder, but his sunny hair clustered about his temples like a god's, and his cheek brightened as the foambow brightens when the wind blows the foam, and all my heart went forth to embrace him coming, ere he came. "'dear mother ida, hearken ere i die. he smiled, and opening out his milk-white palm disclosed a fruit of pure hesperian gold, that smelt ambrosially, and while i looked and listened, the full-flowing river of speech came down upon my heart. "my own oenone, beautiful-browed oenone, my own soul, behold this fruit, whose gleaming rind ingraven 'for the most fair,' would seem award it thine as lovelier than whatever oread haunt the knolls of ida, loveliest in all grace of movement, and the charm of married brows." "'dear mother ida, hearken ere i die. he prest the blossom of his lips to mine, and added, "this was cast upon the board, when all the full-faced presence of the gods hanged in the halls of peleus; whereupon rose feud, with question unto whom 'twas due; but light-foot iris brought it yester-eve delivering, that to me, by common voice elected umpire, herÂ� comes to-day, pallas and aphrodite, claiming each this meed of fairest. thou within the cave beyond yon whispering tuft of oldest pine, may'st well behold them unbeheld, unheard hear all, and see thy paris judge of gods."'" there was in troy a celebrated statue of minerva called the palladium. it was said to have fallen from heaven, and the belief was that the city could not be taken so long as this statue remained within it. ulysses and diomedes entered the city in disguise, and succeeded in obtaining the palladium, which they carried off to the grecian camp. but troy still held out, and the greeks began to despair of ever subduing it by force, and by advice of ulysses resolved to resort to stratagem. they pretended to be making preparations to abandon the siege, and a portion of the ships were withdrawn, and lay hid behind a neighboring island. the greeks then constructed an immense wooden horse, which they gave out was intended as a propitiatory offering to minerva, but in fact was filled with armed men. the remaining greeks then betook themselves to their ships and sailed away, as if for a final departure. the trojans, seeing the encampment broken up and the fleet gone, concluded the enemy to have abandoned the siege. the gates were thrown open, and the whole population issued forth rejoicing at the long- prohibited liberty of passing freely over the scene of the late encampment. the great horse was the chief object of curiosity. all wondered what it could be for. some recommended to take it into the city as a trophy; others felt afraid of it. while they hesitate, laocoon, the priest of neptune, exclaims, "what madness, citizens, is this! have you not learned enough of grecian fraud to be on your guard against it? for my part i fear the greeks even when they offer gifts." so saying he threw his lance at the horse's side. it struck, and a hollow sound reverberated like a groan. then perhaps the people might have taken his advice and destroyed the fatal horse and all its contents; but just at that moment a group of people appeared dragging forward one who seemed a prisoner and a greek. stupefied with terror he was brought before the chiefs, who reassured him, promising that his life should be spared on condition of his returning true answers to the questions asked him. he informed them that he was a greek, sinon by name, and that in consequence of the malice of ulysses he had been left behind by his countrymen at their departure. with regard to the wooden horse, he told them that it was a propitiatory offering to minerva, and made so huge for the express purpose of preventing its being carried within the city; for calchas the prophet had told them that if the trojans took possession of it, they would assuredly triumph over the greeks. this language turned the tide of the people's feelings, and they began to think how they might best secure the monstrous horse and the favorable auguries connected with it, when suddenly a prodigy occurred which left no room to doubt. there appeared advancing over the sea two immense serpents. they came upon the land, and the crowd fled in all directions. the serpents advanced directly to the spot where laocoon stood with his two sons. they first attacked the children, winding round their bodies and breathing their pestilential breath in their faces. the father, attempting to rescue them, is next seized and involved in the serpents' coils. he struggles to tear them away, but they overpower all his efforts and strangle him and the children in their poisonous folds. this event was regarded as a clear indication of the displeasure of the gods at laocoon's irreverent treatment of the wooden horse, which they no longer hesitated to regard as a sacred object and prepared to introduce with due solemnity into the city. this was done with songs and triumphal acclamations, and the day closed with festivity. in the night the armed men who were enclosed in the body of the horse, being led out by the traitor sinon, opened the gates of the city to their friends who had returned under cover of the night. the city was set on fire; the people, overcome with feasting and sleep, put to the sword, and troy completely subdued. one of the most celebrated groups of statuary in existence is that of laocoon and his children in the embrace of the serpents. "there is a cast of it in the boston athenaeum; the original is in the vatican at rome. the following lines are from the childe harold of byron: "now turning to the vatican go see laocoon's torture dignifying pain; a father's love and mortal's agony with as immortal's patience blending; vain the struggle! vain against the coiling strain and gripe and deepening of the dragon's grasp the old man's clinch; the long envenomed chain rivets the living links; the enormous asp enforces pang on pang and stifles gasp on gasp." the comic poets will also occasionally borrow a classical allusion. the following is from swift's description of a city shower: "boxed in a chair the beau impatient sits, while spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits, and over and anon with frightful din the leather sounds; he trembles from within. so when troy chairmen bore the wooden steed pregnant with greeks, impatient to be freed, (those bully greeks, who, as the moderns do, instead of paying chairmen, run them through;) laocoon struck the outside with a spear, and each imprisoned champion quaked with fear." king priam lived to see the downfall of his kingdom, and was slain at last on the fatal night when the greeks took the city. he had armed himself and was about to mingle with the combatants, but was prevailed on by hecuba, his aged queen, to take refuge with herself and his daughters as a suppliant at the altar of jupiter. while there, his youngest son polites, pursued by pyrrhus (pyrrhus's exclamation, "not such aid nor such defenders does the time require," has become proverbial.), the son of achilles, rushed in wounded, and expired at the feet of his father; whereupon priam, overcome with indignation, hurled his spear with feeble hand against pyrrhus, and was forthwith slain by him. queen hecuba and her daughter cassandra were carried captives to greece. cassandra had been loved by apollo, and he gave her the gift of prophecy; but afterwards offended with her, he rendered the gift unavailing by ordaining that her predictions should never be believed. polyxena, another daughter, who had been loved by achilles, was demanded by the ghost of this warrior, and was sacrificed by the greeks upon his tomb. from schiller's poem "cassandra": "and men my prophet wail deride! the solemn sorrow dies in scorn; and lonely in the waste, i hide the tortured heart that would forewarn. amid the happy, unregarded, mock'd by their fearful joy, i trod; oh, dark to me the lot awarded, thou evil pythian god! "thine oracle, in vain to be, oh, wherefore am i thus consigned, with eyes that every truth must see, lone in the city of the blind? cursed with the anguish of a power to view the fates i may not thrall, the hovering tempest still must lower, the horror must befall! boots it th veil to lift, and give to sight the frowning fates beneath? for error is the life we live, and, oh, our knowledge is but death! take back the clear and awful mirror, shut from my eyes the blood-red glare; thy truth is but the gift of terror, when mortal lips declare. "my blindness give to me once more, they gay dim senses that rejoice; the past's delighted songs are o'er for lips that speak a prophet's voice. to me the future thou hast granted; i miss the moment from the chain the happy present hour enchanted! take back thy gift again!" sir edw. l. bulwer's translation menelaus and helen our readers will be anxious to know the fate of helen, the fair but guilty occasion of so much slaughter. on the fall of troy menelaus recovered possession of his wife, who had not ceased to love him, though she had yielded to the might of venus and deserted him for another. after the death of paris she aided the greeks secretly on several occasions, and in particular when ulysses and diomedes entered the city in disguise to carry off the palladium. she saw and recognized ulysses, but kept the secret, and even assisted them in obtaining the image. thus she became reconciled to her husband, and they were among the first to leave the shores of troy for their native land. but having incurred the displeasure of the gods they were driven by storms from shore to shore of the mediterranean, visiting cyprus, phoenicia and egypt. in egypt they were kindly treated and presented with rich gifts, of which helen's share was a golden spindle and a basket on wheels. the basket was to hold the wool and spools for the queen's work. dyer, in his poem of the fleece, thus alludes to the incident: "----many yet adhere to the ancient distaff at the bosom fixed. casting the whirling spindle as they walk. . . . . . . . . . . this was of old, in no inglorious days, the mode of spinning, when the egyptian prince a golden distaff gave that beauteous nymph, too beauteous helen; no uncourtly gift." milton also alludes to a famous recipe for an invigorating draught, called nepenthe, which the egyptian queen gave to helen: "not that nepenthes which the wife of thone in egypt gave to jove-born helena, is of such power to stir up joy as this, to life so friendly or so cool to thirst." comus menelaus and helen at length arrived in safety at sparta, resumed their royal dignity, and lived and reigned in splendor; and when telemachus, the son of ulysses, in search of his father, arrived at sparta, he found menelaus and helen celebrating the marriage of their daughter hermione to neoptolemus, son of achilles. in "the victory feast," schiller thus reviews the return of the greek heroes. "the son of atreus, king of men, the muster of the hosts surveyed, how dwindled from the thousands, when along scamander first arrayed! with sorrow and the cloudy thought, the great king's stately look grew dim, of all the hosts to ilion brought, how few to greece return with him! still let the song to gladness call, for those who yet their home shall greet! for them the blooming life is sweet; return is not for all! "nor all who reach their native land may long the joy of welcome feel; beside the household gods may stand grim murder, with awaiting steel and they who 'scape the foe, may die beneath the foul, familiar glaive. thus he to whom prophetic eye her light the wise minerva gave; 'ah! bless'd, whose hearth, to memory true the goddess keeps unstained and pure; for woman's guile is deep and sure, and falsehood loves the new!' "the spartan eyes his helen's charms, by the best blood of greece recaptured; round that fair form his glowing arms (a second bridal) wreath, enraptured. woe waits the work of evil birth, revenge to deeds unblessed is given! for watchful o'er the things of earth, the eternal council-halls of heaven. yes, ill shall never ill repay; jove to the impious hands that stain the altar of man's heart, again the doomer's doom shall weigh!" sir edw. l. bulwer's translation agamemnon, orestes, and electra agamemnon, the general-in-chief of the greeks, the brother of menelaus, who had been drawn into the quarrel to avenge another's wrongs, was not so fortunate in the issue as his brother. during his absence his wife clytemnestra had been false to him, and when his return was expected, she, with her paramour, aegisthus, laid a plan for his destruction, and at the banquet given to celebrate his return, murdered him. the conspirators intended also to slay his son orestes, a lad not yet old enough to be an object of apprehension, but from whom, if he should be suffered to grow up, there might be danger. electra, the sister of orestes, saved her brother's life by sending him secretly away to his uncle strophius, king of phocis. in the palace of strophius, orestes grew up with the king's son, pylades, and formed with him that ardent friendship which has become proverbial. electra frequently reminded her brother hy messengers of the duty of avenging his father's death, and when grown up he consulted the oracle of delphi, which confirmed him in his design. he therefore repaired in disguise to argos, pretending to he a messenger from strophius, who had come to announce the death of orestes, and brought the ashes of the deceased in a funeral urn. after visiting his father's tomb and sacrificing upon it, according to the rites of the ancients, he made himself known to his sister electra, and soon after slew both aegisthus and clytemnestra. this revolting act, the slaughter of a mother by her son, though alleviated by the guilt of the victim and the express command of the gods, did not fail to awaken in the breasts of the ancients the same abhorrence that it does in ours. the eumenides, avenging deities, seized upon orestes, and drove him frantic from land to land. pylades accompanied him in his wanderings, and watched over him. at length in answer to a second appeal to the oracle, he was directed to go to tauris in scythia, and to bring thence a statue of diana which was believed to have fallen from heaven. accordingly orestes and pylades went to tauris, where the barbarous people were accustomed to sacrifice to the goddess all strangers who fell into their hands. the two friends were seized and carried bound to the temple to be made victims. but the priestess of diana was no other than iphigenia, the sister of orestes, who, our readers will remember, was snatched away by diana, at the moment when she was about to be sacrificed. ascertaining from the prisoners who they were, iphigenia disclosed herself to them, and the three made their escape with the statue of the goddess, and returned to mycenae. but orestes was not yet relieved from the vengeance of the erinnyes. at length he took refuge with minerva at athens. the goddess afforded him protection, and appointed the court of areopagus to decide his fate. the erinnyes brought forward their accusation, and orestes made the command of the delphic oracle his excuse. when the court voted and the voices were equally divided, orestes was acquitted by the command of minerva. byron, in childe harold, canto iv, alludes to the story of orestes: "o thou who never yet of human wrong left the unbalanced scale, great nemesis! thou who didst call the furies from the abyss, and round orestes bade them howl and hiss, for that unnatural retribution, just, had it but been from hands less near, in this, thy former realm, i call thee from the dust!" one of the most pathetic scenes in the ancient drama is that in which sophocles represents the meeting of orestes and electra, on his return from phocis. orestes, mistaking electra for one of the domestics, and desirous of keeping his arrival a secret till the hour of vengeance should arrive, produces the urn in which his ashes are supposed to rest. electra, believing him to be really dead, takes the urn, and embracing it, pours forth her grief in language full of tenderness and despair. milton, in one of his sonnets, says: "the repeated air of sad electra's poet had the power to save the athenian walls from ruin bare." this alludes to the story that when, on one occasion, the city of athens was at the mercy of her spartan foes, and it was proposed to destroy it, the thought was rejected upon the accidental quotation, by some one, of a chorus of euripides. troy after hearing so much about the city of troy and its heroes, the reader will perhaps be surprised to learn that the exact site of that famous city is still a matter of dispute. there are some vestiges of tombs on the plain which most nearly answers to the description given by homer and the ancient geographers, but no other evidence of the former existence of a great city. byron thus describes the present appearance of the scene: "the winds are high, and helle's tide rolls darkly heaving to the main; and night's descending shadows hide that field with blood bedewed in vain, the desert of old priam's pride, the tombs, sole relics of his reign, all save immortal dreams that could beguile the blind old man of scio's rocky isle." bride of abydos. chapter xxii adventures of ulysses. the lotus-eaters. cyclopes. circe. sirens. scylla and charybdis. calypso the romantic poem of the odyssey is now to engage our attention. it narrates the wanderings of ulysses (odysseus in the greek language) in his return from troy to his own kingdom of ithaca. from troy the vessels first made land at ismarus, a city of the ciconians, where, in a skirmish with the inhabitants, ulysses lost six men from each ship. sailing thence they were overtaken by a storm which drove them for nine days along the sea till they reached the country of the lotus-eaters. here, after watering, ulysses sent three of his men to discover who the inhabitants were. these men on coming among the lotus-eaters were kindly entertained by them, and were given some of their own food, the lotus-plant to eat. the effect of this food was such that those who partook of it lost all thoughts of home and wished to remain in that country. it was by main force that ulysses dragged these men away, and he was even obliged to tie them under the benches of his ship. (tennyson in the lotus-eaters has charmingly expressed the dreamy languid feeling which the lotus-food is said to have produced: "how sweet it were, hearing the downward stream with half-shut eyes ever to seem falling asleep in a half-dream! to dream and dream, like yonder amber light which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height; to hear each other's whispered speech; eating the lotus, day by day, to watch the crisping ripples on the beach, and tender curving lines of creamy spray; to lend our hearts and spirits wholly to the influence of mild-minded melancholy; to muse and brood and live again in memory, with those old faces of our infancy heaped over with a mound of grass, two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass.") they next arrived at the country of the cyclopes. the cyclopes were giants, who inhabited an island of which they were the only possessors. the name means "round eye," and these giants were so called because they had but one eye, and that placed in the middle of the forehead. they dwelt in caves and fed on the wild productions of the island and on what their flocks yielded, for they were shepherds. ulysses left the main body of his ships at anchor, and with one vessel went to the cyclopes' island to explore for supplies. he landed with his companions, carrying with them a jar of wine for a present, and coming to a large cave they entered it, and finding no one within examined its contents. they found it stored with the riches of the flock, quantities of cheese, pails and bowls of milk, lambs and kids in their pens, all in nice order. presently arrived the master of the cave, polyphemus, bearing an immense bundle of firewood, which he threw down before the cavern's mouth. he then drove into the cave the sheep and goats to be milked, and, entering, rolled to the cave's mouth an enormous rock, that twenty oxen could not draw. next he sat down and milked his ewes, preparing a part for cheese, and setting the rest aside for his customary drink. then turning round his great eye he discerned the strangers, and growled out to them, demanding who they were, and where from. ulysses replied most humbly, stating that they were greeks, from the great expedition that had lately won so much glory in the conquest of troy; that they were now on their way home, and finished by imploring his hospitality in the name of the gods. polyphemus deigned no answer, but reaching out his hand, seized two of the greeks, whom he hurled against the side of the cave, and dashed out their brains. he proceeded to devour them with great relish, and having made a hearty meal, stretched himself out on the floor to sleep. ulysses was tempted to seize the opportunity and plunge his sword into him as he slept, but recollected that it would only expose them all to certain destruction, as the rock with which the giant had closed up the door was far beyond their power to remove, and they would therefore be in hopeless imprisonment. next morning the giant seized two more of the greeks, and dispatched them in the same manner as their companions, feasting on their flesh till no fragment was left. he then moved away the rock from the door, drove out his flocks, and went out, carefully replacing the barrier after him. when he was gone ulysses planned how he might take vengeance for his murdered friends, and effect his escape with his surviving companions. he made his men prepare a massive bar of wood cut by the cyclops for a staff, which they found in the cave. they sharpened the end of it and seasoned it in the fire, and hid it under the straw on the cavern floor. then four of the boldest were selected, with whom ulysses joined himself as a fifth. the cyclops came home at evening, rolled away the stone and drove in his flock as usual. after milking them and making his arrangements as before, he seized two more of ulysses' companions and dashed their brains out, and made his evening meal upon them as he had on the others. after he had supped, ulysses, approaching him, handed him a bowl of wine, saying, "cyclops, this is wine; taste and drink after thy meal of man's flesh." he took and drank it, and was hugely delighted with it, and called for more. ulysses supplied him once and again, which pleased the giant so much that he promised him as a favor that he should be the last of the party devoured. he asked his name, to which ulysses replied, "my name is noman." after his supper the giant lay down to repose, and was soon sound asleep. then ulysses with his four select friends thrust the end of the stake into the fire till it was all one burning coal, then poising it exactly above the giant's only eye, they buried it deeply into the socket, twirling it round and round as a carpenter does his auger. the howling monster filled the cavern with his outcry, and ulysses with his aids nimbly got out of his way and concealed themselves in the cave. the cyclops, bellowing, called aloud on all the cyclopes dwelling in the caves around him, far and near. they on his cry flocked around the den, and inquired what grievous hurt had caused him to sound such an alarm and break their slumbers. he replied, "o friends, i die, and noman gives the blow." they answered, "if no man hurts thee it is the stroke of jove, and thou must bear it." so saying, they left him groaning. next morning the cyclops rolled away the stone to let his flock out to pasture, but planted himself in the door of the cave to feel of all as they went out, that ulysses and his men should not escape with them. but ulysses had made his men harness the rams of the flock three abreast, with osiers which they found on the floor of the cave. to the middle ram of the three one of the greeks suspended himself, so protected by the exterior rams on either side. as they passed, the giant felt of the animals' backs and sides, but never thought of their bellies; so the men all passed safe, ulysses himself being on the last one that passed. when they had got a few paces from the cavern, ulysses and his friends released themselves from their rams, and drove a good part of the flock down to the shore to their boat. they put them aboard with all haste, then pushed off from the shore, and when at a safe distance ulysses shouted, "cyclops, the gods have well requited thee for thy atrocious deeds. know it is ulysses to whom thou owest thy shameful loss of sight." the cyclops, hearing this, seized a rock that projected from the side of the mountain, and rending it from its bed he lifted it high in the air, then exerting all his force, hurled it in the direction of the voice. down came the mass, just clearing the vessel's stern. the ocean, at the plunge of the huge rock, heaved the ship towards the land, so that it barely escaped being swamped by the waves. when they had with the utmost difficulty pulled off shore, ulysses was about to hail the giant again, but his friends besought him not to do so. he could not forbear, however, letting the giant know that they had escaped his missile, but waited till they had reached a safer distance than before, the giant answered them with curses, but ulysses and his friends plied their oars vigorously, and soon regained their companions. ulysses next arrived at the island of aeolus. to this monarch jupiter had intrusted the government of the winds, to send them forth or retain them at his will. he treated ulysses hospitably, and at his departure gave him, tied up in a leathern bag with a silver string, such winds as might be hurtful and dangerous, commanding fair winds to blow the barks towards their country. nine days they sped before the wind, and all that time ulysses had stood at the helm, without sleep. at last quite exhausted he lay down to sleep. while he slept, the crew conferred together about the mysterious bag, and concluded it must contain treasures given by the hospitable king aeolus to their commander. tempted to secure some portion for themselves they loosed the string, when immediately the winds rushed forth. the ships were driven far from their course, and back again to the island they had just left. aeolus was so indignant at their folly that he refused to assist them further, and they were obliged to labor over their course once more by means of their oars. the laestrygonians the next adventure was with the barbarous tribe of laestrygonians. the vessels pushed into the harbor, tempted by the secure appearance of the cove, completely land-locked; ulysses alone moored his vessel without. as soon as the laestrygonians found the ships completely in their power they attacked them, having huge stones which broke and overturned them, and with their spears dispatched the seamen as they struggled in the water. all the vessels with their crews were destroyed, except ulysses' own ship which had remained outside, and finding no safety but in flight, he exhorted his men to ply their oars vigorously, and they escaped. with grief for their slain companions mixed with joy at their own escape, they pursued their way till they arrived at the aeaean isle, where dwelt circe, the daughter of the sun. landing here ulysses climbed a hill, and gazing round saw no signs of habitation except in one spot at the centre of the island, where he perceived a palace embowered with trees. he sent forward one- half of his crew, under the command of eurylochus, to see what prospect of hospitality they might find. as they approached the palace, they found themselves surrounded by lions, tigers and wolves, not fierce, but tamed by circe's art, for she was a powerful magician. all these animals had once been men, but had been changed by circe's enchantments into the forms of beasts. the sounds of soft music were heard from within, and a sweet female voice singing. eurylochus called aloud and the goddess came forth and invited them in. they all gladly entered except eurylochus, who suspected danger. the goddess conducted her guests to a seat, and had them served with wine and other delicacies. when they had feasted heartily, she touched them one by one with her wand, and they became immediately changed into swine, in "head, body, voice and bristles," yet with their intellects as before. she shut them in her sties, and supplied them with acorns and such other things as swine love. eurylochus hurried back to the ship and told the tale. ulysses thereupon determined to go himself, and try if by any means he might deliver his companions. as he strode onward alone, he met a youth who addressed him familiarly, appearing to be acquainted with his adventures. he announced himself as mercury, and informed ulysses of the arts of circe, and of the danger of approaching her. as ulysses was not to be dissuaded from his attempts, mercury provided him with a sprig of the plant moly, of wonderful power to resist sorceries, and instructed him how to act. ulysses proceeded, and reaching the palace was courteously received by circe, who entertained him as she had done his companions, and after he had eaten and drank, touched him with her wand, saying, "hence seek the sty and wallow with thy friends." but he, instead of obeying, drew his sword and rushed upon her with fury in his countenance. she fell on her knees and begged for mercy. he dictated a solemn oath that she would release his companions and practise no further against him or them; and she repeated it, at the same time promising to dismiss them all in safety after hospitably entertaining them. she was as good as her word. the men were restored to their shapes, the rest of the crew summoned from the shore, and the whole magnificently entertained day after day, till ulysses seemed to have forgotten his native land, and to have reconciled himself to an inglorious life of ease and pleasure. at length his companions recalled him to nobler sentiments, and he received their admonition gratefully. circe aided their departure, and instructed them how to pas safely by the coast of the sirens. the sirens were sea-nymphs who had the power of charming by their song all who had heard them, so that the unhappy mariners were irresistibly impelled to cast themselves into the sea to their destruction. circe directed ulysses to fill the ears of his seamen with wax, so that they should not hear the strain; and to cause himself to be bound to the mast, and his people to be strictly enjoined, whatever he might say or do, by no means to release him till they should have passed the sirens' island. ulysses obeyed these directions. he filled the ears of his people with wax, and suffered them to bind him with cords firmly to the mast. as they approached the sirens' island, the sea was calm, and over the waters came the notes of music so ravishing and attractive, that ulysses struggled to get loose, and by cries and signs to his people, begged to be released; but they, obedient to his previous orders, sprang forward and bound him still faster. they held on their course, and the music grew fainter till it ceased to be heard, when with joy ulysses gave his companions the signal to unseal their ears, and they relieved him from his bonds. the imagination of a modern poet, keats, has discovered for us the thoughts that passed through the brains of the victims of circe, after their transformation. in his endymion he represents one of them, a monarch in the guise of an elephant, addressing the sorceress in human language thus: "i sue not for my happy crown again; i sue not for my phalanx on the plain; i sue not for my lone, my widowed wife; i sue not for my ruddy drops of life, my children fair, my lovely girls and boys; i will forget them; i will pass these joys, ask nought so heavenward; so too too high; only i pray, as fairest boon, to die; to be delivered from this cumbrous flesh, from this gross, detestable, filthy mesh, and merely given to the cold, bleak air. have mercy, goddess! circe, feel my prayer!" scylla and charybdis ulysses had been warned by circe of the two monsters scylla and charybdis. we have already met with scylla in the story of glaucus, and remember that she was once a beautiful maiden and was changed into a snaky monster by circe. she dwelt in a cave high up on the cliff, from whence she was accustomed to thrust forth her long necks for she had six heads, and in each of her mouths to seize one of the crew of every vessel passing within reach. the other terror, charybdis, was a gulf, nearly on a level with the water. thrice each day the water rushed into a frightful chasm, and thrice was disgorged. any vessel coming near the whirlpool when the tide was rushing in must inevitably by ingulfed; not neptune himself could save it. on approaching the haunt of the dread monsters, ulysses kept strict watch to discover them. the roar of the waters as charybdis ingulfed them, gave warning at a distance, but scylla could nowhere be discerned. while ulysses and his men watched with anxious eyes the dreadful whirlpool, they were not equally on their guard from the attack of scylla, and the monster darting forth her snaky heads, caught six of his men, and bore them away shrieking to her den. it was the saddest sight ulysses had yet seen; to behold his friends thus sacrificed and hear their cries, unable to afford them any assistance. circe had warned him of another danger. after passing scylla and charybdis, the next land he would make was trinakria, an island whereon were pastured the cattle of hyperion, the sun, tended by his daughters lampetia and phaethusa. these flocks must not be violated, whatever the wants of the voyagers might be. if this injunction were transgressed, destruction was sure to fall on the offenders. ulysses would willingly have passed the island of the sun without stopping, but his companions so urgently pleaded for the rest and refreshment that would be derived from anchoring and passing the night on shore, that ulysses yielded. he bound them, however, with an oath that they would not touch one of the animals of the sacred flocks and herds, but content themselves with what provision they yet had left of the supply which circe had put on board. so long as this supply lasted the people kept their oath, but contrary winds detained them at the island for a month, and after consuming all their stock of provisions, they were forced to rely upon the birds and fishes they could catch. famine pressed them, and at length one day, in the absence of ulysses, they slew some of the cattle, vainly attempting to make amends for the deed by offering from them a portion to the offended powers. ulysses, on his return to the shore, was horror-struck at perceiving what they had done, and the more so on account of the portentous signs which followed. the skins crept on the ground, and the joints of meat lowed on the spits while roasting. the wind becoming fair they sailed from the island. they had not gone far when the weather changed, and a storm of thunder and lightning ensued. a stroke of lightning shattered their mast, which in its fall killed the pilot. at last the vessel itself came to pieces. the keel and mast floating side by side, ulysses formed of them a raft, to which he clung, and, the wind changing, the waves bore him to calypso's island. all the rest of the crew perished. the following allusion to the stories we have just been relating is from milton's comus, line : "i have often heard my mother circe and the sirens three, amidst the flowery-kirtled naiades, culling their potent herbs and baneful drugs, who as they sung would take the prisoned soul and lap it in elysium. scylla wept, and chid her barking waves into attention. and fell charybdis murmured soft applause." scylla and charybdis have become proverbial, to denote opposite dangers which beset one's course. calypso calypso was a sea-nymph. one of that numerous class of female divinities of lower rank than the gods, yet sharing many of their attributes. calypso received ulysses hospitably, entertained him magnificently, became enamored of him, and wished to retain him forever, conferring on him immortality. but he persisted in his resolution to return to his country and his wife and son. calypso at last received a command from jove to dismiss him. mercury brought the message to her, and found her in her grotto, which is thus described by homer: "a garden vine, luxuriant on all sides, mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph, their sinuous course pursuing side by side, strayed all around, and every where appeared meadows of softest verdure purpled o'er with violets; it was a scene to fill a god from heaven with wonder and delight." calypso with much reluctance proceeded to obey the commands of jupiter. she supplied ulysses with the means of constructing a raft, provisioned it well for him, and gave him a favoring gale. he sped on his course prosperously for many days, till at length, when in sight of land, a storm arose that broke his mast, and threatened to rend the raft asunder. in this crisis he was seen by a compassionate sea-nymph, who in the form of a cormorant alighted on the raft, and presented him a girdle, directing him to bind it beneath his breast, and if he should be compelled to trust himself to the waves, it would buoy him up and enable him by swimming to reach the land. fenelon, in his romance of telemachus, has given us the adventures of the son of ulysses in search of his father. among other places at which he arrived, following on his father's footsteps, was calypso's isle, and, as in the former case, the goddess tried every art to keep him with her, and offered to share her immortality with him. but minerva, who, in the shape of mentor, accompanied him and governed all his movements, made him repel her allurements, and when no other means of escape could be found, the two friends leaped from a cliff into the sea, and swam to a vessel which lay becalmed off shore. byron alludes to this leap of telemachus and mentor in the following stanza: "but not in silence pass calypso's isles, the sister tenants of the middle deep; there for the weary still a haven smiles, though the fair goddess long has ceased to weep, and o'er her cliffs a fruitless watch to keep for him who dared prefer a mortal bride. here too his boy essayed the dreadful leap, stern mentor urged from high to yonder tide; while thus of both bereft the nymph-queen doubly sighed." chapter xxiii the odyssey (continued) the phaeacians. fate of the suitors ulysses clung to the raft while any of its timbers kept together, and when it no longer yielded him support, binding the girdle around him, he swam. minerva smoothed the billows before him and sent him a wind that rolled the waves towards the shore. the surf beat high on the rocks and seemed to forbid approach; but at length finding calm water at the mouth of a gentle stream, he landed, spent with toil, breathless and speechless and almost dead. after some time reviving, he kissed the soil, rejoicing, yet at a loss what course to take. at a short distance he perceived a wood, to which he turned his steps. there finding a covert sheltered by intermingling branches alike from the sun and the rain, he collected a pile of leaves and formed a bed, on which he stretched himself, and heaping the leaves over him, fell asleep. the land where he was thrown was scheria, the country of the phaecians. these people dwelt originally near the cyclopes; but being oppressed by that savage race, they migrated to the isle of scheria, under the conduct of nausithous their king. they were, the poet tells us, a people akin to the gods, who appeared manifestly and feasted among them when they offered sacrifices, and did not conceal themselves from solitary wayfarers when they met them. they had abundance of wealth and lived in the enjoyment of it undisturbed by the alarms of war, for as they dwelt remote from gain-seeking man, no enemy ever approached their shores, and they did not even require to make use of bows and quivers. their chief employment was navigation. their ships, which went with the velocity of birds, were endued with intelligence; they knew every port and needed no pilot. alcinous, the son of nausithous, was now their king, a wise and just sovereign, beloved by his people. now it happened that the very night on which ulysses was cast ashore on the phaeacian island, and while he lay sleeping on his bed of leaves, nausicaa, the daughter of the king, had a dream sent by minerva, reminding her that her wedding-day was not far distant, and that it would be but a prudent preparation for that event to have a general washing of the clothes of the family. this was no slight affair, for the fountains were at some distance and the garments must be carried thither. on awaking, the princess hastened to her parents to tell them what was on her mind; not alluding to her wedding-day, but finding other reasons equally good. her father readily assented and ordered the grooms to furnish forth a wagon for the purpose. the clothes were put therein, and the queen mother placed in the wagon, likewise an abundant supply of food and wine. the princess took her seat and plied the lash, her attendant virgins following her on foot. arrived at the river side they turned out the mules to graze, and unloading the carriage, bore the garments down to the water, and working with cheerfulness and alacrity soon dispatched their labor. then having spread the garments on the shore to dry, and having themselves bathed, they sat down to enjoy their meal; after which they rose and amused themselves with a game of ball, the princess singing to them while they played. but when they had refolded the apparel and were about to resume their way to the town, minerva caused the ball thrown by the princess to fall into the water, whereat they all screamed, and ulysses awaked at the sound. now we must picture to ourselves ulysses, a shipwrecked mariner, but just escaped from the waves, and utterly destitute of clothing, awaking and discovering that only a few bushes were interposed between him and a group of young maidens, whom, by their deportment and attire, he discovered to be not mere peasant girls, but of a higher class. sadly needing help, how could he yet venture, naked as he was, to discover himself and make his wants known? it certainly was a case worthy of the interposition of his patron goddess minerva, who never failed him at a crisis. breaking off a leafy branch from a tree, he held it before him and stepped out from the thicket. the virgins, at sight of him, fled in all directions, nausicaa alone excepted, for minerva aided and endowed her with courage and discernment. ulysses, standing respectfully aloof, told his sad case, and besought the fair object (whether queen or goddess he professed he knew not) for food and clothing. the princess replied courteously, promising present relief and her father's hospitality when he should become acquainted with the facts. she called back her scattered maidens, chiding their alarm, and reminding them that the phaeacians had no enemies to fear. this man, she told them, was an unhappy wanderer, whom it was a duty to cherish, for the poor and stranger are from jove. she bade them bring food and clothing, for some of her brothers' garments were among the contents of the wagon. when this was done, and ulysses, retiring to a sheltered place, had washed his body free from the sea-foam, clothed and refreshed himself with food, pallas dilated his form and diffused grace over his ample chest and manly brows. the princess, seeing him, was filled with admiration, and scrupled not to say to her damsels that she wished the gods would send her such a husband. to ulysses she recommended that he should repair to the city, following herself and train so far as the way lay through the fields; but when they should approach the city she desired that he would no longer be seen in her company, for she feared the remarks which rude and vulgar people might make on seeing her return accompanied by such a gallant stranger; to avoid which she directed him to stop at a grove adjoining the city, in which were a farm and garden belonging to the king. after allowing time for the princess and her companions to reach the city, he was then to pursue his way thither, and would be easily guided by any he might meet to the royal abode. ulysses obeyed the directions, and in due time proceeded to the city, on approaching which he met a young woman bearing a pitcher forth for water. it was minerva, who had assumed that form. ulysses accosted her, and desired to be directed to the palace of alcinous the king. the maiden replied respectfully, offering to be his guide; for the palace, she informed him, stood near her father's dwelling. under the guidance of the goddess, and by her power enveloped in a cloud which shielded him from observation, ulysses passed among the busy crowd, and with wonder observed their harbor, their ships, their forum (the resort of heroes), and their battlements, till they came to the palace, where the goddess, having first given him some information of the country, king, and people he was about to meet, left him. ulysses, before entering the courtyard of the palace, stood and surveyed the scene. its splendor astonished him. brazen walls stretched from the entrance to the interior house, of which the doors were gold, the door-posts silver, the lintels silver ornamented with gold. on either side were figures of mastiffs wrought in gold and silver, standing in rows as if to guard the approach. along the walls were seats spread through all their length with mantles of finest texture, the work of phaeacian maidens. on these seats the princes sat and feasted, while golden statues of graceful youths held in their hands lighted torches, which shed radiance over the scene. full fifty female menials served in household offices, some employed to grind the corn, others to wind off the purple wool or ply the loom. for the phaeacian women as far exceeded all other women in household arts as the mariners of that country did the rest of mankind in the management of ships. without the court a spacious garden lay, in which grew many a lofty tree, pomegranate, pear, apple, fig, and olive. neither winter's cold nor summer's drought arrested their growth, but they flourished in constant succession, some budding while others were maturing. the vineyard was equally prolific. in one quarter you might see the vines, some in blossom, some loaded with ripe grapes, and in another observe the vintagers treading the wine-press. on the garden's borders flowers of every hue bloomed all the year round, arranged with neatest art. in the midst two fountains poured forth their waters, one flowing by artificial channels over all the garden, the other conducted through the courtyard of the palace, whence every citizen might draw his supplies. ulysses stood gazing in admiration, unobserved himself, for the cloud which minerva spread around him still shielded him. at length, having sufficiently observed the scene, he advanced with rapid step into the hall where the chiefs and senators were assembled, pouring libation to mercury, whose worship followed the evening meal. just then minerva dissolved the cloud and disclosed him to the assembled chiefs. advancing toward the queen, he knelt at her feet and implored her favor and assistance to enable him to return to his native country. then withdrawing, he seated himself in the manner of suppliants, at the hearth- side. for a time none spoke. at last an aged statesman, addressing the king, said, "it is not fit that a stranger who asks our hospitality should be kept waiting in suppliant guise, none welcoming him. let him therefore be led to a seat among us and supplied with food and wine." at these words the king rising gave his hand to ulysses and led him to a seat, displacing thence his own son to make room for the stranger. food and wine were set before him and he ate and refreshed himself. the king then dismissed his guests, notifying them that the next day he would call them to council to consider what had best be done for the stranger. when the guests had departed and ulysses was left alone with the king and queen, the queen asked him who he was and whence he came, and (recognizing the clothes which he wore as those which her maidens and herself had made) from whom he received his garments. he told them of his residence in calypso's isle and his departure thence; of the wreck of his raft, his escape by swimming, and of the relief afforded by the princess. the parents heard approvingly, and the king promised to furnish him a ship in which he might return to his own land. the next day the assembled chiefs confirmed the promise of the king. a bark was prepared and a crew of stout rowers selected, and all betook themselves to the palace, where a bounteous repast was provided. after the feast the king proposed that the young men should show their guest their proficiency in manly sports, and all went forth to the arena for games of running, wrestling, and other exercises. after all had done their best, ulysses being challenged to show what he could do, at first declined, but being taunted by one of the youths, seized a quoit of weight far heavier than any the phaeacians had thrown, and sent it farther than the utmost throw of theirs. all were astonished, and viewed their guest with greatly increased respect. after the games they returned to the hall, and the herald led in demodocus, the blind bard, "dear to the muse, who yet appointed him both good and ill, took from him sight, but gave him strains divine." he took for his theme the wooden horse, by means of which the greeks found entrance into troy. apollo inspired him, and he sang so feelingly of the terrors and the exploits of that eventful time that all were delighted, but ulysses was moved to tears. observing which, alcinous, when the song was done, demanded of him why at the mention of troy his sorrows awaked. had he lost there a father or brother, or any dear friend? ulysses in reply announced himself by his true name, and at their request, recounted the adventures which had befallen him since his departure from troy. this narrative raised the sympathy and admiration of the phaeacians for their guest to the highest pitch. the king proposed that each chief should present him with a gift, himself setting the example. they obeyed, and vied with one another in loading the illustrious stranger with costly gifts. the next day ulysses set sail in the phaeacian vessel, and in a short time arrived safe at ithaca, his own island. when the vessel touched the strand he was asleep. the mariners, without waking him, carried him on shore, and landed with him the chest containing his presents, and then sailed away. but neptune was displeased at the conduct of the phaeacians in thus rescuing ulysses from his hands. in revenge, on the return of the vessel to port, he transformed it into a rock, right opposite the mouth of the harbor. homer's description of the ships of the phaeacians has been thought to look like an anticipation of the wonders of modern steam navigation. alcinous says to ulysses, "say from what city, from what regions tossed, and what inhabitants those regions boast? so shalt thou quickly reach the realm assigned, in wondrous ships, self-moved, instinct with mind; no helm secures their course, no pilot guides; like man intelligent they plough the tides, conscious of every coast and every bay that lies beneath the sun's all-seeing ray." odyssey, book viii lord carlisle, in his diary in the turkish and greek waters, thus speaks of corfu, which he considers to be the ancient phaeacian island: "the sites explain the odyssey. the temple of the sea-god could not have been more fitly placed, upon a grassy platform of the most elastic turf, on the brow of a crag commanding harbor, and channel, and ocean. just at the entrance of the inner harbor there is a picturesque rock with a small convent perched atop it, which by one legend is the transformed pinnace of ulysses. "almost the only river in the island is just at the proper distance from the probable site of the city and palace of the king, to justify the princess nausicaa having had resort to her chariot and to luncheon when she went with the maidens of the court to wash their garments." fate of the suitors it was now twenty years that ulysses had been away from ithaca, and when he awoke he did not recognize his native land. but minerva, appearing to him in the form of a young shepherd, informed him where he was, and told him the state of things at his palace. more than a hundred nobles of ithaca and of the neighboring islands had been for years suing for the hand of penelope, his wife, imagining him dead, and lording it over his palace and people, as if they were owners of both. that he might be able to take vengeance upon them, it was important that he should not be recognized. minerva accordingly metamorphosed him into an unsightly beggar, and as such he was kindly received by eumaeus, the swine-herd, a faithful servant of his house. telemachus, his son, was absent in quest of his father. he had gone to the courts of the other kings, who had returned from the trojan expedition. while on the search, he received counsel from minerva to return home. arriving at ithaca, he sought eumaeus to learn something of the state of affairs at the palace before presenting himself among the suitors. finding a stranger with eumaeus, he treated him courteously, though in the garb of a beggar, and promised him assistance. eumaeus was sent to the palace to inform penelope privately of her son's arrival, for caution was necessary with regard to the suitors, who, as telemachus had learned, were plotting to intercept and kill him. when eumaeus was gone, minerva presented herself to ulysses, and directed him to make himself known to his son. at the same time she touched him, removed at once from him the appearance of age and penury, and gave him the aspect of vigorous manhood that belonged to him. telemachus viewed him with astonishment, and at first thought he must be more than mortal. but ulysses announced himself as his father, and accounted for the change of appearance by explaining that it was minerva's doing. "then threw telemachus his arms around his father's neck and wept, desire intense of lamentation seized on both; soft murmurs uttering, each indulged his grief." the father and son took counsel together how they should get the better of the suitors and punish them for their outrages. it was arranged that telemachus should proceed to the palace and mingle with the suitors as formerly; that ulysses should go also, as a beggar, a character which in the rude old times had different privileges from those we concede to it now. as traveller and story-teller, the beggar was admitted in the halls of chieftains, and often treated like a guest; though sometimes, also, no doubt, with contumely. ulysses charged his son not to betray, by any display of unusual interest in him, that he knew him to be other than he seemed, and even if he saw him insulted, or beaten, not to interpose otherwise than he might do for any stranger. at the palace they found the usual scene of feasting and riot going on. the suitors pretended to receive telemachus with joy at his return, though secretly mortified at the failure of their plots to take his life. the old beggar was permitted to enter, and provided with a portion from the table. a touching incident occurred as ulysses entered the court-yard of the palace. an old dog lay in the yard almost dead with age, and seeing a stranger enter, raised his head, with ears erect. it was argus, ulysses' own dog, that he had in other days often led to the chase. "soon he perceived long-lost ulysses nigh, down fell his ears clapped close, and with his tail glad signs he gave of gratulation, impotent to rise, and to approach his master as of old. ulysses, noting him, wiped off a tear unmarked. . . . then his destiny released old argus, soon as he had lived to see ulysses in the twentieth year restored." as ulysses sat eating his portion in the hall, the suitors soon began to exhibit their insolence to him. when he mildly remonstrated, one of them raised a stool and with it gave him a blow. telemachus had hard work to restrain his indignation at seeing his father so treated in his own hall, but remembering his father's injunctions, said no more than what became him as master of the house and protector of his guests. penelope had protracted her decision in favor of any one of her suitors so long, that there seemed to be no further pretence for delay. the continued absence of her husband seemed to prove that his return was no longer to be expected. meanwhile her son had grown up, and was able to manage his own affairs. she therefore consented to submit the question of her choice to a trial of skill among the suitors. the test selected was shooting with the bow. twelve rings were arranged in a line, and he whose arrow was sent through the whole twelve, was to have the queen for his prize. a bow that one of his brother heroes had given to ulysses in former times, was brought from the armory, and with its quiver full of arrows was laid in the hall. telemachus had taken care that all other weapons should be removed, under pretence that in the heat of competition, there was danger, in some rash moment, of putting them to an improper use. all things being prepared for the trial, the first thing to be done was to bend the bow in order to attach the string. telemachus endeavored to do it, but found all his efforts fruitless; and modestly confessing that he had attempted a task beyond his strength, he yielded the bow to another. he tried it with no better success, and, amidst the laughter and jeers of his companions, gave it up. another tried it and another; they rubbed the bow with tallow, but all to no purpose; it would not bend. then spoke ulysses, humbly suggesting that he should be permitted to try; for, said he, "beggar as i am, i was once a soldier, and there is still some strength in these old limbs of mine." the suitors hooted with derision, and commanded to turn him out of the hall for his insolence. but telemachus spoke up for him, and merely to gratify the old man, bade him try. ulysses took the bow, and handled it with the hand of a master. with ease he adjusted the cord to its notch, then fitting an arrow to the bow he drew the string and sped the arrow unerring through the rings. without allowing them time to express their astonishment, he said, "now for another mark!" and aimed direct at the most insolent one of the suitors. the arrow pierced through his throat and he fell dead. telemachus, eumaeus, and another faithful follower, well armed, now sprang to the side of ulysses. the suitors, in amazement, looked round for arms but found none, neither was there any way of escape, for eumaeus had secured the door. ulysses left them not long in uncertainty; he announced himself as the long-lost chief, whose house they had invaded, whose substance they had squandered, whose wife and son they had persecuted for ten long years; and told them he meant to have ample vengeance. all the suitors were slain, except phemius the bard and medon the herald, and ulysses was left master of his own palace and possessor of his kingdom and his wife. among schiller's works is the following epigram on ulysses: "to gain his home all oceans he explored; here scylla frowned, and there charybdis roared; horror on sea, and horror on the land, in hell's dark boat he sought the spectre land, till borne a slumberer to his native spot, he woke, and sorrowing, knew his country not." sir edward bulwer"s translation tennyson's poem of ulysses represents the old hero, after his dangers past and nothing left but to stay at home and be happy, growing tired of inaction and resolving to set forth again in quest of new adventures. "come my friends, 'tis not too late to seek a newer world. push off, and sitting well in order smite the sounding furrows; for my purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset, and the baths of all the western stars, until i die. it may be that the gulfs will wash us down; it may be we shall touch the happy isles, and see the great achilles whom we knew, tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho' we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are; one equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." chapter xxiv adventures of aeneas the harpies dido palinurus we have followed one of the grecian heroes, ulysses, in his wanderings, on his return home from troy, and now we propose to share the fortunes of the remnant of the conquered people, under their chief aeneas, in their search for a new home, after the ruin of their native city. on that fatal night when the wooden horse disgorged its contents of armed men, and the capture and conflagration of the city were the result, aeneas made his escape from the scene of destruction with his father, and his wife, and young son. the father, anchises, was woo old to walk with the speed required, and aeneas took him upon his shoulders. thus burdened, leading his son and followed by his wife, he made the best of his way out of the burning city; but in the confusion, his wife was swept away and lost. on arriving at the place of rendezvous, numerous fugitives, of both sexes, were found, who put themselves under the guidance of aeneas. some months were spent in preparation and at length they embarked. they first landed on the neighboring shores of thrace, and were preparing to build a city, but aeneas was deterred by a prodigy. preparing to offer sacrifice, he tore some twigs from one of the bushes. to his dismay the wounded part dropped blood. when he repeated the act, a voice from the ground cried out to him, "spare me, aeneas; i am your kinsman, polydore, here murdered with many arrows, from which a bush has grown, nourished with my blood." these words recalled to the recollection of aeneas that polydore was a young prince of troy, whom his father had sent with ample treasures to the neighboring land of thrace, to be there brought up, at a distance from the horrors of war. the king to whom he was sent had murdered him, and seized his treasures. aeneas and his companions hastened away, considering the land to be accursed by the stain of such a crime. they next landed on the island of delos, which was once a floating island, till jupiter fastened it by adamantine chains to the bottom of the sea. apollo and diana were born there, and the island was sacred to apollo. here aeneas consulted the oracle of apollo, and received an answer, as ambiguous as usual "seek your ancient mother; there the race of aeneas shall dwell, and reduce all other nations to their sway." the trojans heard with joy, and immediately began to ask one another, "where is the spot intended by the oracle?" anchises remembered that there was a tradition that their forefathers came from crete, and thither they resolved to steer. they arrived at crete, and began to build their city, but sickness broke out among them, and the fields that they had planted failed to yield a crop. in this gloomy aspect of affairs, aeneas was warned in a dream to leave the country, and seek a western land, called hesperia, whence dardanus, the true founder of the trojan race, had originally migrated. to hesperia, now called italy, therefore, they directed their future course, and not till after many adventures and the lapse of time sufficient to carry a modern navigator several times round the world, did they arrive there. their first landing was at the island of the harpies: "----the daughters of the earth and sea, the dreadful snatchers, who like women were down to the breast, with scanty coarse black hair about their heads, and dim eyes ringed with red, and bestial mouths set round with lips of lead, but from their gnarled necks there began to spring half hair, half feathers, and a sweeping wing grew out instead of arm on either side, and thick plumes underneath the breast did hide the place where joined the fearful natures twain. gray-feathered were they else, with many a stain of blood thereon, and on birds' claws they went. morris: life and death of jason the harpies had been sent by the gods to torment a certain phineus, whom jupiter had deprived of his sight in punishment of his cruelty; and whenever a meal was placed before him, the harpies darted down from the air and carried it off. they were driven away from phineus by the heroes of the argonautic expedition, and took refuge in the island where aeneas now found them. when they entered the port the trojans saw herds of cattle roaming over the plain. they slew as many as they wished, and prepared for a feast. but no sooner had they seated themselves at the table, than a horrible clamor was heard in the air, and a flock of odious harpies came rushing down upon them, seizing in their talons the meat from the dishes, and flying away with it. aeneas and his companions drew their swords and dealt vigorous blows among the monsters, but to no purpose, for they were so nimble it was almost impossible to hit them, and their feathers were like armor impenetrable to steel. one of them, perched on a neighboring cliff, screamed out, "is it thus, trojans, you treat us innocent birds, first slaughter our cattle, and then make war on ourselves?" she then predicted dire sufferings to them in their future course, and having vented her wrath flew away. the trojans made haste to leave the country, and next found themselves coasting along the shore of epirus. here they landed, and to their astonishment learned that certain trojan exiles, who had been carried there as prisoners, had become rulers of the country. andromache, the widow of hector, became the wife of one of the victorious grecian chiefs, to whom she bore a son. her husband dying, she was left regent of the country, as guardian of her son, and had married a fellow-captive, helenus, of the royal race of troy. helenus and andromache treated the exiles with the utmost hospitality, and dismissed them loaded with gifts. from hence aeneas coasted along the shore of sicily, and passed the country of cyclopes. here they were hailed from the shore by a miserable object, whom by his garments, tattered as they were, they perceived to be a greek. he told them he was one of ulysses' companions, left behind by that chief in his hurried departure. he related the story of ulysses' adventure with polyphemus, and besought them to take him off with them, as he had no means of sustaining his existence where he was, but wild berries and roots, and lived in constant fear of the cyclopes. while he spoke polyphemus made his appearance; a terrible monster, shapeless, vast, whose only eye had been put out. he walked with cautious steps, feeling his way with a staff, down to the sea-side, to wash his eye-socket in the waves. when he reached the water, he waded out towards them, and his immense height enabled him to advance far into the sea, so that the trojans, in terror, took to their oars to get out of his way. hearing the oars, polyphemus shouted after them, so that the shores resounded, and at the noise the other cyclopes came forth from their caves and woods, and lined the shore, like a row of lofty pine trees. the trojans plied their oars, and soon left them out of sight. aeneas had been cautioned by helenus to avoid the strait guarded by the monsters scylla and charybdis. there ulysses, the reader will remember, had lost six of his men, seized by scylla, while the navigators were wholly intent upon avoiding charybdis. aeneas, following the advice of helenus, shunned the dangerous pass and coasted along the island of sicily. juno, seeing the trojans speeding their way prosperously towards their destined shore, felt her old grudge against them revive, for she could not forget the slight that paris had put upon her, in awarding the prize of beauty to another. in heavenly minds can such resentments dwell! accordingly she hastened to aeolus, the ruler of the winds, the same who supplied ulysses with favoring gales, giving him the contrary ones tied up in a bag. aeolus obeyed the goddess and sent forth his sons, boreas, typhon and the other winds, to toss the ocean. a terrible storm ensued, and the trojan ships were driven out of their course towards the coast of africa. they were in imminent danger of being wrecked, and were separated, so that aeneas thought that all were lost except his own. at this crisis, neptune, hearing the storm raging, and knowing that he had given no orders for one, raised his head above the waves, and saw the fleet of aeneas driving before the gale. knowing the hostility of juno, he was at no loss to account for it, but his anger was not the less at this interference in his province. he called the winds, and dismissed them with a severe reprimand. he then soothed the waves, and brushed away the clouds from before the face of the sun. some of the ships which had got on the rocks he pried off with his own trident, while triton and a sea-nymph, putting their shoulders under others, set them afloat again. the trojans, when the sea became calm, sought the nearest shore, which was the coast of carthage, where aeneas was so happy as to find that one by one the ships all arrived safe, though badly shaken. waller, in his panegyric to the lord protector (cromwell), alludes to this stilling of the storm by neptune: "above the waves, as neptune showed his face, to chide the winds and save the trojan race, so has your highness, raised above the rest, storms of ambition tossing us repressed.." dido carthage, where the exiles had now arrived, was a spot on the coast of africa opposite sicily, where at that time a tyrian colony under dido their queen, were laying the foundations of a state destined in later ages to be the rival of rome itself. dido was the daughter of belus, king of tyre, and sister of pygmalion who succeeded his father on the throne. her husband was sichaeus, a man of immense wealth, but pygmalion, who coveted his treasures, caused him to be put to death. dido, with a numerous body of followers, both men and women, succeeded in effecting their escape from tyre in several vessels, carrying with them the treasures of sichaeus. on arriving at the spot which they selected as the seat of their future home, they asked of the natives only so much land as they could enclose with a bull's hide. when this was readily granted, she caused the hide to be cut into strips, and with them enclosed a spot on which she built a citadel, and called it byrsa (a hide). around this fort the city of carthage rose, and soon became a powerful and flourishing place. such was the state of affairs when aeneas with his trojans arrived there. dido received the illustrious exiles with friendliness and hospitality. "not unacquainted with distress," she said, "i have learned to succor the unfortunate." the queen's hospitality displayed itself in festivities at which games of strength and skill were exhibited. the strangers contended for the palm with her own subjects on equal terms, the queen declaring that whether the victor were "trojan or tyrian should make no difference to her." at the feast which followed the games, aeneas gave at her request a recital of the closing events of the trojan history and his own adventures after the fall of the city. dido was charmed with his discourse and filled with admiration of his exploits. she conceived an ardent passion for him, and he for his part seemed well content to accept the fortunate chance which appeared to offer him at once a happy termination of his wanderings, a home, a kingdom, and a bride. months rolled away in the enjoyment of pleasant intercourse, and it seemed as if italy and the empire destined to be founded on its shores were alike forgotten. seeing which, jupiter dispatched mercury with a message to aeneas recalling him to a sense of his high destiny, and commanding him to resume his voyage. aeneas, under this divine command, parted from dido, though she tried every allurement and persuasion to detain him. the blow to her affection and her pride was too much for her to endure, and when she found that he was gone, she mounted a funeral-pile which she had caused to be prepared, and, having stabbed herself, was consumed with the pile. the flames rising over the city were seen by the departing trojans, and, though the cause was unknown, gave to aeneas some intimation of the fatal event. we find in "elegant extracts" the following epigram: from the latin "unhappy, dido, was thy fate in first and second married state! one husband caused thy flight by dying, thy death the other caused by flying." dr. johnson was once challenged to make an epigram on the syllables di,do,dum. he immediately replied in these lines: "when dido found aeneas would not come, she wept in silence, and was dido dumb. palinurus after touching at the island of sicily, where acestes, a prince of trojan lineage, bore sway, who gave them a hospitable reception, the trojans re-embarked, and held on their course for italy. venus now interceded with neptune to allow her son at last to attain the wished-for goal, and find an end of his perils on the deep. neptune consented, stipulating only for one life as a ransom for the rest. the victim was palinurus, the pilot. as he sat watching the stars, with his hand on the helm, somnus, sent by neptune, approached in the guise of phorbas and said, "palinurus, the breeze is fair, the water smooth, and the ship sails steadily on her course. lie down a while and take needful rest. i will stand at the helm in your place." palinurus replied, "tell me not of smooth seas or favoring winds, me who have seen so much of their treachery. shall i trust aeneas to the chances of the weather and winds?" and he continued to grasp the helm and to keep his eyes fixed on the stars. but somnus waved over him a branch moistened with lethaean dew, and his eyes closed in spite of all his efforts. then somnus pushed him overboard and he fell; but keeping his hold upon the helm it came away with him. neptune was mindful of his promise, and kept the ship on her track without helm or pilot, till aeneas discovered his loss, and, sorrowing deeply for his faithful steersman, took charge of the ship himself. there is a beautiful allusion to the story of palinurus in scott's marmion, introduction to canto i., where the poet, speaking of the recent death of william pitt, says: "oh, think how, to his latest day, when death just hovering claimed his prey, with palinure's unaltered mood, firm at his dangerous post he stood; each call for needful rest repelled, with dying hand the rudder held, till in his fall, with fateful sway, the steerage of the realm gave way." the ships at last reached the shores of italy, and joyfully did the adventurers leap to land. while his people were employed in making their encampment aeneas sought the abode of the sibyl. it was a cave connected with a temple and grove, sacred to apollo and diana. while aeneas contemplated the scene, the sibyl accosted him. she seemed to know his errand, and under the influence of the deity of the place burst forth in a prophetic strain, giving dark intimations of labors and perils through which he was destined to make his way to final success. she closed with the encouraging words which have become proverbial: "yield not to disasters, but press onward the more bravely." aeneas replied that he had prepared himself for whatever might await him. he had but one request to make. having been directed in a dream to seek the abode of the dead in order to confer with his father anchises to receive from him a revelation of his future fortunes and those of his race, he asked her assistance to enable him to accomplish the task. the sibyl replied, "the descent to avernus is easy; the gate of pluto stands open night and day; but to retrace one's steps and return to the upper air, that is the toil, that the difficulty. she instructed him to seek in the forest a tree on which grew a golden branch. this branch was to be plucked off, to be borne as a gift to proserpine, and if fate was propitious, it would yield to the hand and quit its parent trunk, but otherwise no force could rend it away. if torn away, another would succeed. aeneas followed the directions of the sibyl. his mother venus sent two of her doves to fly before him and show him the way, and by their assistance he found the tree, plucked the branch, and hastened back with it to the sibyl. chapter xxv the infernal regions the sibyl at the commencement of our series we have given the pagan account of the creation of the world, so as we approach its conclusion, we present a view of the regions of the dead, depicted by one of their most enlightened poets, who drew his doctrines from their most esteemed philosophers. the region where virgil places the entrance into this abode, is perhaps the most strikingly adapted to excite ideas of the terrific and preternatural of any on the face of the earth. it is the volcanic region near vesuvius, where the whole country is cleft with chasms from which sulphurous flames arise, while the ground is shaken with pent-up vapors, and mysterious sounds issue from the bowels of the earth. the lake avernus is supposed to fill the crater of an extinct volcano. it is circular, half a mile wide, and very deep, surrounded by high banks, which in virgil's time were covered with a gloomy forest. mephitic vapors rise from its waters, so that no life is found on its banks, and no birds fly over it. here, according to the poet, was the cave which afforded access to the infernal regions, and here aeneas offered sacrifices to the infernal deities, proserpine, hecate, and the furies. then a roaring was heard in the earth, the woods on the hill-tops were shaken, and the howling of dogs announced the approach of the deities. "now," said the sibyl, "summon up your courage, for you will need it." she descended into the cave, and aeneas followed. before the threshold of hades they passed through a group of beings who are griefs and avenging cares, pale diseases and melancholy age, fear and hunger that tempt to crime, toil, poverty, and death, forms horrible to view. the furies spread their couches there, and discord, whose hair was of vipers tied up with a bloody fillet. here also were the monsters, briareus with his hundred arms, hydras hissing, and chimaeras breathing fire. aeneas shuddered at the sight, drew his sword and would have struck, had not the sibyl restrained him. they then came to the black river cocytus, where they found the ferryman, charon, old and squalid, but strong and vigorous, who was receiving passengers of all kinds into his boat, high-souled heroes, boys and unmarried girls as numerous as the leaves that fall at autumn, or the flocks that fly southward at the approach of winter. they stood pressing for a passage, and longing to touch the opposite shore. but the stern ferryman took in only such as he chose, driving the rest back. aeneas, wondering at the sight, asked the sibyl, "why this discrimination?: she answered, "those who are taken on board the bark are the souls of those who have received due burial rites; the host of others who have remained unburied, are not permitted to pass the flood, but wander a hundred years, and flit to and fro about the shore, till at last they are taken over." aeneas grieved at recollecting some of his own companions who had perished in the storm. at that moment he beheld palinurus, his pilot, who fell overboard and was drowned. he addressed him and asked him the cause of his misfortune. palinurus replied that the rudder was carried away, and he, clinging to it, was swept away with it. he besought aeneas most urgently to extend to him his hand and take him in company to the opposite shore. but the sibyl rebuked him for the wish thus to transgress the laws of pluto, but consoled him by informing him that the people of the shore where his body had been wafted by the waves, should be stirred up by the prodigies to give it the burial, and that the promontory should bear the name of cape palinurus, which it does to this day. leaving palinurus consoled by these words, they approached the boat. charon, fixing his eyes sternly upon the advancing warrior, demanded by what right he, living and armed, approached the shore. to which the sibyl replied that they would commit no violence, that aeneas's only object was to see his father, and finally exhibited the golden branch, at sight of which charon's wrath relaxed, and he made haste to turn his back to the shore, and receive them on board. the boat, adapted only to the light freight of bodiless spirits, groaned under the weight of the hero. they were soon conveyed to the opposite shore. there they were encountered by the three- headed dog cerberus, with his necks bristling with snakes. he barked with all his three throats till the sibyl threw him a medicated cake, which he eagerly devoured, and then stretched himself out in his den and fell asleep. aeneas and the sibyl sprang to land. the first sound that struck their ears was the wailing of young children, who had died on the threshold of life, and near to these were they who had perished under false charges. minos presides over them as judge, and examines the deeds of each. the next class was of those who had died by their own hand, hating life and seeking refuge in death. oh, how willingly would they now endure poverty, labor, and any other infliction, if they might but return to life! next were situated the regions of sadness, divided off into retired paths, leading through groves of myrtle. here roamed those who had fallen victims to unrequited love, not freed from pain even by death itself. among these, aeneas thought he descried the form of dido, with a wound still recent. in the dim light he was for a moment uncertain, but approaching perceived it was indeed herself. tears fell from his eyes, and he addressed her in the accents of love. "unhappy dido! was then the rumor true that you had perished? and was i, alas! the cause! i call the gods to witness that my departure from you was reluctant, and in obedience to the commands of jove; nor could i believe that my absence would have cost you so dear. stop, i beseech you, and refuse me not a last farewell." she stood for a moment with averted countenance, and eyes fixed on the ground, and then silently passed on, as insensible to his pleadings as a rock. aeneas followed for some distance; then, with a heavy heart, rejoined his companion and resumed his route. they next entered the fields where roam the heroes who have fallen in battle. here they saw many shades of grecian and trojan warriors. the trojans thronged around him, and could not be satisfied with the sight. they asked the cause of his coming, and plied him with innumerable questions. but the greeks, at the sight of his armor glittering through the murky atmosphere, recognized the hero, and filled with terror turned their backs and fled, as they used to flee on the plains of troy. aeneas would have lingered long with his trojan friends but the sibyl hurried him away. they next came to a place where the road divided, the one leading to elysium, the other to the regions of the condemned. aeneas beheld on one side the walls of a mighty city, around which phlegethon rolled its fiery waters. before him was the gate of adamant that neither gods nor men can break through. an iron tower stood by the gate, on which tisiphone, the avenging fury, kept guard. from the city were heard groans, and the sound of the scourge, the creaking of iron, and the clanking of chains. aeneas, horror-struck, inquired of his guide what crimes were those whose punishments produced the sounds he hear? the sibyl answered, "here is the judgment-hall of rhadamanthus, who brings to light crimes done in life, which the perpetrator vainly thought impenetrably hid. tisiphone applies her whip of scorpions, and delivers the offender over to her sister furies. at this moment with horrid clang the brazen gates unfolded, and aeneas saw within, a hydra with fifty heads, guarding the entrance. the sibyl told him that the gulf of tartarus descended deep, so that its recesses were as far beneath their feet as heaven was high above their heads. in the bottom of this pit, the titan race, who warred against the gods, lie prostrate; salmoneus, also, who presumed to vie with jupiter, and built a bridge of brass over which he drove his chariot that the sound might resemble thunder, launching flaming brands at his people in imitation of lightning, till jupiter struck him with a real thunderbolt, and taught him the difference between mortal weapons and divine. here, also, is tityus, the giant, whose form is so immense that as he lies, he stretches over nine acres, while a vulture preys upon his liver, which as fast as it is devoured grows again, so that his punishment will have no end. aeneas saw groups seated at tables loaded with dainties, while near by stood a fury who snatched away the viands from their lips, as fast as they prepared to taste them. others beheld suspended over their heads huge rocks, threatening to fall, keeping them in a state of constant alarm. these were they who had hated their brothers, or struck their parents, or defrauded the friends who trusted them, or who having grown rich, kept their money to themselves, and gave no share to others; the last being the most numerous class. here also were those who had violated the marriage vow, or fought in a bad cause, or failed in fidelity to their employers. here was one who had sold his country for gold, another who perverted the laws, making them say one thing today and another tomorrow. ixion was there fastened to the circumference of a wheel ceaselessly revolving; and sisyphus, whose task was to roll a huge stone up to a hill-top, but when the steep was well-nigh gained, the rock, repulsed by some sudden force, rushed again headlong down to the plain. again he toiled at it, while the sweat bathed all his weary limbs, but all to no effect. there was tantalus, who stood in a pool, his chin level with the water, yet he was parched with thirst, and found nothing to assuage it; for when he bowed his hoary head, eager to quaff, the water fled away, leaving the ground at his feet all dry. tall trees laden with fruit stooped their heads to him, pears, pomegranates, apples and luscious figs; but when with a sudden grasp he tried to seize them, winds whirled them high above his reach. the sibyl now warned aeneas that it was time to turn from these melancholy regions and seek the city of the blessed. they passed through a middle tract of darkness, and came upon the elysian fields, the groves where the happy reside. they breathed a freer air, and saw all objects clothed in a purple light. the region has a sun and stars of its own. the inhabitants were enjoying themselves in various ways, some in sports on the grassy turf, in games of strength or skill, others dancing or singing. orpheus struck the chords of his lyre, and called forth ravishing sounds. here aeneas saw the founders of the trojan state, high-souled heroes who lived in happier times. he gazed with admiration on the war-chariots and glittering arms now reposing in disuse. spears stood fixed in the ground, and the horses, unharnessed, roamed over the plain. the same pride in splendid armor and generous steeds which the old heroes felt in life, accompanied them here. he saw another group feasting, and listening to the strains of music. they were in a laurel grove, whence the great river po has its origin, and flows out among men. here dwelt those who fell by wounds received in their country's cause, holy priests, also, and poets who have uttered thoughts worthy of apollo, and others who have contributed to cheer and adorn life by their discoveries in the useful arts, and have made their memory blessed by rendering service to mankind. they wore snow- white fillets about their brows. the sibyl addressed a group of these, and inquired where anchises was to be found. they were directed where to seek him, and soon found him in a verdant valley, where he was contemplating the ranks of his posterity, their destinies and worthy deeds to be achieved in coming times. when he recognized aeneas approaching, he stretched out both hands to him, while tears flowed freely. "have you come at last," said he, "long expected and do i behold you after such perils past? o my son, how have i trembled for you as i have watched your career!" to which aeneas replied, o father! your image was always before me to guide and guard me. then he endeavored to enfold his father in his embrace, but his arms enclosed only an unsubstantial image. aeneas perceived before him a spacious valley, with trees gently waving to the wind, a tranquil landscape, through which the river lethe flowed. along the banks of the stream wandered a countless multitude, numerous as insects in the summer air. aeneas, with surprise, inquired who were these. anchises answered, "they are souls to which bodies are to be given in due time. meanwhile they dwell on lethe's bank, and drink oblivion of their former lives." "oh, father!" said aeneas, "is it possible that any can be so in love with life, as to wish to leave these tranquil seats for the upper world?" anchises replied by explaining the plan of creation. the creator, he told him, originally made the material of which souls are composed, of the four elements, fire, air, earth, and water, all which, when united, took the form of the most excellent part, fire, and became flame. this material was scattered like seed among the heavenly bodies, the sun, moon, and stars. of this seed the inferior gods created man and all other animals, mingling it with various proportions of earth, by which its purity was alloyed and reduced. thus the more earth predominates in the composition, the less pure is the individual; and we see men and women with their full-grown bodies have not the purity of childhood. so in proportion to the time which the union of body and soul has lasted, is the impurity contracted by the spiritual part. this impurity must be purged away after death, which is done by ventilating the souls in the current of winds, or merging them in water, or burning out their impurities by fire. some few, of whom anchises intimates that he is one, are admitted at once to elysium, there to remain. but the rest, after the impurities of earth are purged away, are sent back to life endowed with new bodies, having had the remembrance of their former lives effectually washed away by the waters of lethe. some, however, there still are, so thoroughly corrupted, that they are not fit to be entrusted with human bodies, and these are made into brute animals, lions, tigers, cats, dogs, monkeys, etc. this is what the ancients called metempsychosis, or the transmigration of souls; a doctrine which is still held by the natives of india, who scruple to destroy the life, even of the most insignificant animal, not knowing but it may be one of their relations in an altered form. anchises, having explained so much, proceeded to point out to aeneas individuals of his race, who were hereafter to be born, and to relate to him the exploits they should perform in the world. after this he reverted to the present, and told his son of the events that remained to him to be accomplished before the complete establishment of himself and his followers in italy. wars were to be waged, battles fought, a bride to be won, and in the result a trojan state founded, from which should rise the roman power, to be in time the sovereign of the world. aeneas and the sybil then took leave of anchises, and returned by some short cut, which the poet does not explain, to the upper world. the egyptian name of hades was amenti. in the revision of the scriptures the revising commission has substituted the word hades where "hell" was used in the version of king james. elysium virgil, we have seen, places his elysium under the earth, and assigns it for a residence to the spirits of the blessed. but in homer elysium forms no part of the realms of the dead. he places it on the west of the earth, near ocean, and described it as a happy land, where there is neither snow, nor cold, nor rain, and always fanned by the delightful breezes of zephyrus. hither favored heroes pass without dying, and live happy under the rule of rhadamanthus. the elysium of hesiod and pindar is in the isles of the blessed, or fortunate islands, in the western ocean. from these sprang the legend of the happy island atlantis. this blissful region may have been wholly imaginary, but possibly may have sprung from the reports of some storm-driven mariners who had caught a glimpse of the coast of america. james russell lowell, in one of his shorter poems, claims for the present age some of the privileges of that happy realm. addressing the past, he says, "whatever of true life there was in thee, leaps in our age's veins. . . . . . . "here, 'mid the bleak waves of our strife and care, float the green 'fortunate isles,' where all thy hero-spirits dwell and share our martyrdoms and toils. the present moves attended with all of brave and excellent and fair that made the old time splendid." milton alludes to the same fable in paradise lost, book iii., . . "like those hesperian gardens famed of old, fortunate fields and groves and flowery vales, thrice happy isles." and in book ii. he characterizes the rivers of erebus according to the meaning of their names in the greek language: "abhorred styx, the flood of deadly hate, sad acheron of sorrow black and deep; cocytus named of lamentation loud heard on the rueful stream; fierce phlegethon whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage. far off from these a slow and silent stream. lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks forthwith his former state and being forgets, forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain." the sibyl as aeneas and the sibyl pursued their way back to earth, he said to her, "whether thou be a goddess or a mortal beloved by the gods, by me thou shalt always be held in reverence. when i reach the upper air, i will cause a temple to be built to thy honor, and will myself bring offerings." "i am no goddess," said the sibyl; "i have no claim to sacrifice or offering. i am mortal; yet if i could have accepted the love of apollo, i might have been immortal. he promised me the fulfilment of my wish, if i would consent to be his. i took a handful of sand, and holding it forth, said, 'grant me to see as many birthdays as there are sand-grains in my hand.' unluckily i forgot to ask for enduring youth. this also he would have granted, could i have accepted his love, but offended at my refusal, he allowed me to grow old. my youth and youthful strength fled long ago. i have lived seven hundred years, and to equal the number of the sand-grains, i have still to see three hundred springs and three hundred harvests. my body shrinks up as years increase, and in time, i shall be lost to sight, but my voice will remain, and future ages will respect my sayings." these concluding words of the sibyl alluded to her prophetic power. in her cave she was accustomed to inscribe on leaves gathered from the trees the names and fates of individuals. the leaves thus inscribed were arranged in order within the cave, and might be consulted by her votaries. but if perchance at the opening of the door the wind rushed in and dispersed the leaves, the sibyl gave no aid to restoring them again, and the oracle was irreparably lost. the following legend of the sibyl is fixed at a later date. in the reign of one of the tarquins there appeared before the king a woman who offered him nine books for sale. the king refused to purchase them, whereupon the woman went away and burned three of the books, and returning offered the remaining books for the same price she had asked for the nine. the king again rejected them; but when the woman, after burning three books more, returned and asked for the three remaining the same price which she had before asked for the nine, his curiosity was excited, and he purchased the books. they were found to contain the destinies of the roman state. they were kept in the temple of jupiter capitolinus, preserved in a stone chest, and allowed to be inspected only by especial officers appointed for that duty, who on great occasions consulted them and interpreted their oracles to the people. there were various sibyls; but the cumaean sibyl, of whom ovid and virgil write, is the most celebrated of them. ovid's story of her life protracted to one thousand years may be intended to represent the various sibyls as being only reappearances of one and the same individual. it is now believed that some of the most distinguished sibyls took the inspiration of their oracles from the jewish scripture. readers interested in this subject will consult, "judaism," by prof. f. huidekoper. young, in the night thoughts, alludes to the sibyl. speaking of worldly wisdom, he says: "if future fate she plans 'tis all in leaves, like sibyl, unsubstantial, fleeting bliss; at the first blast it vanishes in air. . . . . . as worldly schemes resemble sibyl's leaves, the good man's days to sibyl's books compare, the price still rising as in number less." chapter xxvi camilla evander nisus and euryalus mezentius turnus aeneas, having parted from the sibyl and rejoined his fleet, coasted along the shores of italy and cast anchor in the mouth of the tiber. the poet virgil, having brought his hero to this spot, the destined termination of his wanderings, invokes his muse to tell him the situation of things at that eventful moment. latinus, third in descent from saturn, ruled the country. he was now old and had no male descendant, but had one charming daughter, lavinia, who was sought in marriage by many neighboring chiefs, one of whom, turnus, king of the rutulians, was favored by the wishes of her parents. but latinus had been warned in a dream by his father faunus, that the destined husband of lavinia should come from a foreign land. from that union should spring a race destined to subdue the world. our readers will remember that in the conflict with the harpies, one of those half-human birds had threatened the trojans with dire sufferings. in particular she predicted that before their wanderings ceased they should be pressed by hunger to devour their tables. this portent now came true; for as they took their scanty meal, seated on the grass, the men placed their hard biscuit on their laps, and put thereon whatever their gleanings in the woods supplied. having dispatched the latter they finished by eating the crusts. seeing which, the boy iulus said playfully, "see, we are eating our tables." aeneas caught the words and accepted the omen. "all hail, promised land!" he exclaimed, "this is our home, this our country!" he then took measures to find out who were the present inhabitants of the land, and who their rulers. a hundred chosen men were sent to the village of latinus, bearing presents and a request for friendship and alliance. they went and were favorably received. latinus immediately concluded that the trojan hero was no other than the promised son-in-law announced by the oracle. he cheerfully granted his alliance and sent back the messengers mounted on steeds from his stables, and loaded with gifts and friendly messages. juno, seeing things go thus prosperously for the trojans, felt her old animosity revive, summoned the fury alecto from erebus, and sent her to stir up discord. the fury first took possession of the queen, amata, and roused her to oppose in every way the new alliance. alecto then sped to the city of turnus, and assuming the form of an old priestess, informed him of the arrival of the foreigners and of the attempts of their prince to rob him of his bride. next she turned her attention to the camp of the trojans. there she saw the boy iulus and his companions amusing themselves with hunting. she sharpened the scent of the dogs, and led them to rouse up from the thicket a tame stag, the favorite of silvia, the daughter of tyrrheus, the king's herdsman. a javelin from the hand of iulus wounded the animal, and he had only strength left to run homewards, and died at his mistress' feet. her cries and tears roused her brothers and the herdsmen, and they, seizing whatever weapons came to hand, furiously assaulted the hunting party. these were protected by their friends, and the herdsmen were finally driven back with the loss of two of their number. these things were enough to rouse the storm of war, and the queen, turnus, and the peasants, all urged the old king to drive the strangers from the country. he resisted as long as he could, but finding his opposition unavailing, finally gave way and retreated to his retirement. opening the gates of janus it was the custom of the country, when war was to be undertaken, for the chief magistrate, clad in his robes of office, with solemn pomp to open the gates of the temple of janus, which were kept shut as long as peace endured. his people now urged the old king to perform that solemn office, but he refused to do so. while they contested, juno herself, descending from the skies, smote the doors with irresistible force and burst them open. immediately the whole country was in a flame. the people rushed from every side breathing nothing but war. turnus was recognized by all as leader; others joined as allies, chief of whom was mezentius, a brave and able soldier, but of detestable cruelty. he had been the chief of one of the neighboring cities, but his people drove him out. with him was joined his son lausus, a generous youth worthy of a better sire. camilla camilla, the favorite of diana, a huntress and warrior, after the fashion of the amazons, came with her band of mounted followers, including a select number of her own sex, and ranged herself on the side of turnus. this maiden had never accustomed her fingers to the distaff or the loom, but had learned to endure the toils of war, and in speed to outstrip the wind. it seemed as if she might run over the standing corn without crushing it, or over the surface of the water without dipping her feet. camilla's history had been singular from the beginning. her father, metabus, driven from his city by civil discord, carried with him in his flight his infant daughter. as he fled through the woods, his enemies in hot pursuit, he reached the bank of the river amazenus, which, swelled by rains, seemed to debar a passage. he paused for a moment, then decided what to do. he tied the infant to his lance with wrappers of bark, and, poising the weapon in his upraised hand, thus addressed diana: "goddess of the woods! i consecrate this maid to you;" then hurled the weapon with its burden to the opposite bank. the spear flew across the roaring water. his pursuers were already upon him, but he plunged into the river and swam across, and found the spear with the infant safe on the other side. thenceforth he lived among the shepherds, and brought up his daughter in woodland arts. while a child she was taught to use the bow and throw the javelin. with her sling she could bring down the crane or the wild swan. her dress was a tiger's skin. many mothers sought her for a daughter-in-law, but she continued faithful to diana, and repelled the thought of marriage. there is an allusion to camilla in those well-known lines of pope, in which, illustrating the rule that "the sound should be an echo to the sense," he says, "when ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, the line too labors and the words move slow. not so when swift camilla scours the plain, flies o'er th'unbendng corn or skims along the main." essay on criticism evander such were the formidable allies that ranged themselves against aeneas. it was night, and he lay stretched in sleep on the bank of the river, under the open heavens. the god of the stream, father tiber, seemed to raise his head above the willows, and to say, "o goddess-born, destined possessor of the latin realms, this is the promised land, here is to be your home, here shall terminate the hostility of the heavenly powers, if only you faithfully persevere. there are friends not far distant. prepare your boats and row up my stream; i will lead you to evander the arcadian chief. he has long been at strife with turnus and the rutulians, and is prepared to become an ally of yours. rise! offer your vows to juno, and deprecate her anger. when you have achieved your victory then think of me." aeneas woke and paid immediate obedience to the friendly vision. he sacrificed to juno, and invoked the god of the river and all its tributary fountains to lend their aid. then, for the first time, a vessel filled with armed warriors floated on the stream of the tiber. the river smoothed its waves and bade its current flow gently, while, impelled by the vigorous strokes of the rowers, the vessel shot rapidly up the stream. about the middle of the day they came in sight of the scattered buildings of the infant town where in after times the proud city of rome grew, whose glory reached the skies. by chance the old king, evander, was that day celebrating annual solemnities in honor of hercules and all the gods. pallas, his son, and all the chiefs of the little commonwealth stood by. when they saw the tall ship gliding onward through the wood, they were alarmed at the sight, and rose from the tables. but pallas forbade the solemnities to be interrupted, and seizing a weapon, stepped forward to the river's bank. he called aloud, demanding who they were and what was their object. aeneas, holding forth an olive- branch, replied, "we are trojans, friends to you and enemies to the rutulians. we seek evander, and offer to join our arms with yours." pallas, in amazement at the sound of so great a name, invited them to land, and when aeneas touched the shore he seized his hand and held it long in friendly grasp. proceeding through the wood they joined the king and his party, and were most favorably received. seats were provided for them at the tables, and the repast proceeded. when the solemnities were ended all moved towards the city. the king, bending with age, walked between his son and aeneas, taking the arm of one or the other of them, and with much variety of pleasing talk shortening the way. aeneas looked and listened with delight, observing all the beauties of the scene, and learning much of heroes renowned in ancient times. evander said, "these extensive groves were once inhabited by fauns and nymphs, and a rude race of men who sprang from the trees themselves, and had neither laws nor social culture. they knew not how to yoke the cattle nor raise a harvest, nor provide from present abundance for future want; but browsed like beasts upon the leafy boughs, or fed voraciously on their hunted prey. such were they when saturn, expelled from olympus by his sons, came among them and drew together the fierce savages, formed them into society, and gave them laws. such peace and plenty ensued that men ever since have called his reign the golden age; but by degrees far other times succeeded, and the thirst of gold and the thirst of blood prevailed. the land was a prey to successive tyrants, till fortune and resistless destiny brought me hither, an exile from my native land, arcadia." having thus said, he showed him the tarpeian rock, and the rude spot then overgrown with bushes where in after times the capitol rose in all its magnificence. he next pointed to some dismantled walls, and said, "here stood janiculum, built by janus, and there saturnia, the town of saturn." such discourse brought them to the cottage of poor evander, whence they saw the lowing herds roaming over the plain where now the proud and stately forum stands. they entered, and a couch was spread for aeneas, well stuffed with leaves and covered with the skin of the libyan bear. next morning, awakened by the dawn and the shrill song of birds beneath the eaves of his low mansion, old evander rose. clad in a tunic, and a panther's skin thrown over his shoulders, with sandals on his feet, and his good sword girded to his side, he went forth to seek his guest. two mastiffs followed him, his whole retinue and body-guard. he round the hero attended by his faithful achates, and, pallas soon joining them, the old king spoke thus: "illustrious trojan, it is but little we can do in so great a cause. our state is feeble, hemmed in on one side by the river, on the other by the rutulians. but i propose to ally you with a people numerous and rich, to whom fate has brought you at the propitious moment. the etruscans hold the country beyond the river. mezentius was their king, a monster of cruelty, who invented unheard-of torments to gratify his vengeance. he would fasten the dead to the living, hand to hand and face to face, and leave the wretched victims to die in that dreadful embrace. at length the people cast him out, him and his house. they burned his palace and slew his friends. he escaped and took refuge with turnus, who protects him with arms. the etruscans' demand that he shall be given up to deserved punishment, and would ere now have attempted to enforce their demand; but their priests restrain then, telling them that it is the will of heaven that no native of the land shall guide them to victory, and that their destined leader must come from across the sea. they have offered the crown to me, but i am too old to undertake such great affairs, and my son is native-born, which precludes him from the choice. you, equally by birth and time of life, and fame in arms, pointed out by the gods, have but to appear to be hailed as their leader. with you i will join pallas, my son, my only hope and comfort. under you he shall learn the art of war, and strive to emulate your great exploits." then the king ordered horses to be furnished for the trojan chiefs, and aeneas, with a chosen band of followers and pallas accompanying, mounted and took the way to the etruscan city, having sent back the rest of his party in the ships. aeneas and his band safely arrived at the etruscan camp and were received with open arms by tarchon, the etruscan leader, and his countrymen. nisus and euryalus in the meanwhile turnus had collected his bands and made all necessary preparations for the war. juno sent iris to him with a message inciting him to take advantage of the absence of aeneas and surprise the trojan camp. accordingly the attempt was made, but the trojans were found on their guard, and having received strict orders from aeneas not to fight in his absence, they lay still in their intrenchments, and resisted all the efforts of the rutulians to draw them in to the field. night coming on, the army of turnus in high spirits at their fancied superiority, feasted and enjoyed themselves, and finally stretched themselves on the field and slept secure. in the camp of the trojans things were far otherwise. there all was watchfulness and anxiety, and impatience for aeneas's return. nisus stood guard at the entrance of the camp, and euryalus, a youth distinguished above all in the army for graces of person and fine qualities, was with him. these two were friends and brothers in arms. nisus said to his friend, "do you perceive what confidence and carelessness the enemy display? their lights are few and dim, and the men seem all oppressed with wine or sleep. you know how anxiously our chiefs wish to send to aeneas, and to get intelligence from him. now i am strongly moved to make my way through the enemy's camp and to go in search of our chief. if i succeed, the glory of the deed will be enough reward for me, and if they judge the service deserves anything more, let them pay it to you." euryalus, all on fire with the love of adventure, replied, "would you then, nisus, refuse to share your enterprise with me? and shall i let you go into such danger alone? not so my brave father brought me up, nor so have i planned for myself when i joined the standard of aeneas, and resolved to hold my life cheap in comparison with honor." nisus replied, "i doubt it not, my friend; but you know the uncertain event of such an undertaking, and whatever may happen to me, i wish you to be safe. you are younger than i and have more of life in prospect. nor can i be the cause of such grief to your mother, who has chosen to be here in the camp with you rather than stay and live in peace with the other matrons in acestes' city." euryalus replied, "say no more. in vain you seek arguments to dissuade me. i am fixed in the resolution to go with you. let us lose no time." they called the guard, and committing the watch to them, sought the general's tent. they found the chief officers in consultation, deliberating how they should send notice to aeneas of their situation. the offer of the two friends was gladly accepted, they themselves were loaded with praises and promised the most liberal rewards in case of success. iulus especially addressed euryalus, assuring him of his lasting friendship. euryalus replied, "i have but one boon to ask. my aged mother is with me in the camp. for me she left the trojan soil, and would not stay behind with the other matrons at the city of acestes. i go now without taking leave of her. i could not bear her tears nor set at nought he entreaties. but do thou, i beseech thee, comfort her in her distress. promise me that, and i shall go more boldly into whatever dangers may present themselves." iulus and the other chiefs were moved to tears, and promised to do all his request. "your mother shall be mine," said iulus, "and all that i have promised to you shall be made good to her, if you do not return to receive it." the two friends left the camp and plunged at once into the midst of the enemy. they found no watch, no sentinels posted, but all about, the sleeping soldiers strewn on the grass and among the wagons. the laws of war at that early day did not forbid a brave man to slay a sleeping foe, and the two trojans slew, as they passed, such of the enemy as they could without exciting alarm. in one tent euryalus made prize of a helmet brilliant with gold and plumes. they had passed through the enemy's ranks without being discovered, but now suddenly appeared a troop directly in front of them, which, under volscens, their leader, were approaching the camp. the glittering helmet of euryalus caught their attention, and volscens hailed the two, and demanded who and whence they were. they made no answer, but plunged into the wood. the horsemen scattered in all directions to intercept their flight. nisus had eluded pursuit and was out of danger, but euryalus being missing he turned back to seek him. he again entered the wood and soon came within sound of voices. looking through the thicket he saw the whole band surrounding euryalus with noisy questions. what should he do? how extricate the youth? or would it be better to die with him? raising his eyes to the moon which now shone clear, he said, "goddess! favor my effort!" and aiming his javelin at one of the leaders of the troop, struck him in the back and stretched him on the plain with a death-blow. in the midst of their amazement another weapon flew, and another of the party fell dead. volscens, the leader, ignorant whence the darts came, rushed sword in hand upon euryalus. "you shall pay the penalty of both," he said, and would have plunged the sword into his bosom, when nisus, who from his concealment saw the peril of his friend, rushed forward, exclaiming, "'twas i, 'twas i; turn your swords against me, rutulians; i did it; he only followed me as a friend." while he spoke the sword fell, and pierced the comely bosom of euryalus. his head fell over on his shoulder, like a flower cut down by the plough. nisus rushed upon volscens and plunged his sword into his body, and was himself slain on the instant by numberless blows. mezentius aeneas, with his etrurian allies, arrived on the scene of action in time to rescue his beleaguered camp; and now the two armies being nearly equal in strength, the war began in good earnest. we cannot find space for all the details, but must simply record the fate of the principal characters whom we have introduced to our readers. the tyrant mezentius, finding himself engaged against his revolted subjects, raged like a wild beast. he slew all who dared to withstand him, and put the multitude to flight wherever he appeared. at last he encountered aeneas, and the armies stood still to see the issue. mezentius threw his spear, which striking aeneas's shield glanced off and hit anthor. he was a grecian by birth, who had left argos, his native city, and followed evander into italy. the poet says of him, with simple pathos which has made the words proverbial, "he fell, unhappy, by a wound intended for another, looked up to the skies, and dying remembered sweet argos." aeneas now in turn hurled his lance. it pierced the shield of mezentius, and wounded him in the thigh. lausus, his son, could not bear the sight, but rushed forward and interposed himself, while the followers pressed round mezentius and bore him away. aeneas held his sword suspended over lausus and delayed to strike, but the furious youth pressed on and he was compelled to deal the fatal blow. lausus fell, and aeneas bent over him in pity. "hapless youth," he said, "what can i do for you worthy of your praise? keep those arms in which you glory, and fear not but that your body shall be restored to your friends, and have due funeral honors." so saying, he called the timid followers, and delivered the body into their hands. mezentius meanwhile had been borne to the river-side, and washed his wound. soon the news reached him of lausus's death, and rage and despair supplied the place of strength. he mounted his horse and dashed into the thickest of the fight, seeking aeneas. having found him, he rode round him in a circle, throwing one javelin after another, while aeneas stood fenced with his shield, turning every way to meet them. at last, after mezentius had three times made the circuit, aeneas threw his lance directly at the horse's head. it pierced his temples and he fell, while a shout from both armies rent the skies. mezentius asked no mercy, but only that his body might be spared the insults of his revolted subjects, and be buried in the same grave with his son. he received the fatal stroke not unprepared, and poured out his life and his blood together. while these things were doing in one part of the field, in another turnus encountered the youthful pallas. the contest between champions so unequally matched could not be doubtful. pallas bore himself bravely, but fell by the lance of turnus. the victor almost relented when he saw the brave youth lying dead at his feet, and spared to use the privilege of a conqueror in despoiling him of his arms. the belt only, adorned with studs and carvings of gold, he took and clasped round his own body. the rest he remitted to the friends of the slain. after the battle there was a cessation of arms for some days to allow both armies to bury their dead. in this interval aeneas challenged turnus to decide the contest by single combat, but turnus evaded the challenge. another battle ensued, in which camilla, the virgin warrior, was chiefly conspicuous. her deeds of valor surpassed those of the bravest warriors, and many trojans and etruscans fell pierced with her darts or struck down by her battle-axe. at last an etruscan named aruns, who had watched her long, seeking for some advantage, observed her pursuing a flying enemy whose splendid armor offered a tempting prize. intent on the chase she observed not her danger, and the javelin of aruns struck her and inflicted a fatal wound. she fell and breathed her last in the arms of her attendant maidens. but diana, who beheld her fate, suffered not her slaughter to be unavenged. aruns, as he stole away, glad but frightened, was struck by a secret arrow, launched by one of the nymphs of diana's train, and died ignobly and unknown. at length the final conflict took place between aeneas and turnus. turnus had avoided the contest as long as he could, but at last impelled by the ill success of his arms, and by the murmurs of his followers, he braced himself to the conflict. it could not be doubtful. on the side of aeneas were the expressed decree of destiny, the aid of his goddess-mother at every emergency, and impenetrable armor fabricated by vulcan, at venus' request, for her son. turnus, on the other hand, was deserted by his celestial allies, juno having been expressly forbidden by jupiter to assist him any longer. turnus threw his lance, but it recoiled harmless from the shield of aeneas. the trojan hero then threw his, which penetrated the shield of turnus, and pierced his thigh. then turnus' fortitude forsook him and he begged for mercy; and aeneas would have given him his life, but at the instant his eye fell on the belt of pallas, which turnus had taken from the slaughtered youth. instantly his rage revived, and exclaiming, "pallas immolates thee with this blow," he thrust him through with his sword. here the aeneid closes, but the story goes that aeneas, having triumphed over his foes, obtained lavinia as his bride. his son iulus founded the city of alba longa. he, and his descendants after him, reigned over the town for many years. at length numitor and amulius, two brothers, quarrelled about the kingdom. amulius seized the crown by force, cast out numitor, and made his daughter, rhea silvia, a vestal virgin. the vestal virgins, the priestesses of the goddess vesta, were sworn to celibacy. but rhea silvia broke her vow, and gave birth, by the god mars, to the twins, romulus and remus. for this offence she was buried alive, the usual punishment accorded to unfaithful vestals, while the children were exposed on the river tiber. romulus and remus, however, were rescued by a herdsman, and were educated among the shepherds in ignorance of their parentage. but chance revealed it to them. they collected a band of friends, and took revenge on their granduncle for the murder of their mother. afterwards they founded, by the side of the river tiber, where they had been exposed in infancy, the city of rome. chapter xxvii pythagoras. egyptian deities. oracles the teachings of anchises to aeneas, respecting the nature of the human soul, were in conformity with the doctrines of the pythagoreans. pythagoras (born, perhaps, about five hundred and forty years b.c.) was a native of the island of samos, but passed the chief portion of his life at crotona in italy. he is therefore sometimes called "the samian," and sometimes "the philosopher of crotona." when young he travelled extensively and is said to have visited egypt, where he was instructed by the priests in all their learning, and afterwards journeyed to the east, and visited the persian and chaldean magi, and the brahmins of india. but pythagoras left no writings which have been preserved. his immediate disciples were under a pledge of secrecy. though he is referred to by many writers, at times not far distant from his own, we have no biography of him written earlier than the end of the second century of our era. in the interval between his life and this time, every sort of fable collected around what was really known of his life and teaching. at crotona, where he finally established himself, it is said that his extraordinary qualities collected round him a great number of disciples. the inhabitants were notorious for luxury and licentiousness, but the good effects of his influence were soon visible. sobriety and temperance succeeded. six hundred of the inhabitants became his disciples and enrolled themselves in a society to aid each other in the pursuit of wisdom; uniting their property in one common stock, for the benefit of the whole. they were required to practise the greatest purity and simplicity of manners. the first lesson they learned was silence; for a time they were required to be only hearers. "he (pythagoras) said so," (ipse dixit,) was to be held by them as sufficient, without any proof. it was only the advanced pupils, after years of patient submission, who were allowed to ask questions and to state objections. pythagoras is said to have considered numbers as the essence and principle of all things, and attributed to them a real and distinct existence; so that, in his view, they were the elements out of which the universe was constructed. how he conceived this process has never been satisfactorily explained. he traced the various forms and phenomena of the world to numbers as their basis and essence. the "monad," or unit, he regarded as the source of all numbers. the number two was imperfect, and the cause of increase and division. three was called the number of the whole, because it had a beginning, middle, and end; four, representing the square, is in the highest degree perfect; and ten, as it contains the sum of the first three prime numbers ( + + = . one is not counted, as being rather the source of number than a number itself) comprehends all musical and arithmetical proportions, and denotes the system of the world. as the numbers proceed frm the monad, so he regarded the pure and simple essence of the deity as the source of all the forms of nature. gods, demons, and heroes are emanations of the supreme; and there is a fourth emanation, the human soul. this is immortal, and when freed from the fetters of the body, passes to the habitation of the dead, where it remains till it returns to the world to dwell in some other human or animal body, and at last, when sufficiently purified, it returns to the source from which it proceeded. this doctrine of the transmigration of souls (metempsychosis), which was first indian and egyptian, and connected with the doctrine of reward and punishment of human actions, was the chief cause why the pythagoreans killed no animals. ovid represents pythagoras addressing his disciples in these words: "souls never die, but always on quitting one abode pass to another. i myself can remember that in the time of the trojan was i was euphorbus, the son of panthus, and fell by the spear of menelaus. lately, being in the temple of juno, at argos, i recognized my shield hung up there among the trophies. all things change, nothing perishes. the soul passes hither and thither, occupying now this body, now that, passing from the body of a beast into that of a man, and thence to a beast's again. as wax is stamped with certain figures, then melted, then stamped anew with others, yet is always the same wax, so the soul, being always the same, yet wears at different times different forms. therefore, if the love of kindred is not extinct in your bosoms, forbear, i entreat you, to violate the life of those who may haply be your own relatives." shakespeare, in the merchant of venice, makes gratiano allude to the metempsychosis, where he says to shylock: "thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith, to hold opinion with pythagoras, that souls of animals infuse themselves into the trunks of men; thy currish spirit governed a wolf; who hanged for human slaughter infused his soul in thee; for thy desires are wolfish, bloody, starved, and ravenous." the relation of the notes of the musical scale to numbers, whereby harmony results from vibrations in equal times, and discord from the reverse, led pythagoras to apply the word "harmony" to the visible creation, meaning by it the just adaptation of parts to each other. this is the idea which dryden expresses in the beginning of his song for st. cecilia's day: "from harmony, from heavenly harmony this everlasting frame began; from harmony to harmony through all the compass of the notes it ran, the diapason closing full in man." in the centre of the universe (as pythagoras taught) there was a central fire, the principle of life. the central fire was surrounded by the earth, the moon, the sun, and the five planets. the distances of the various heavenly bodies from one another were conceived to correspond to the proportions of the musical scale. the heavenly bodies, with the gods who inhabited them, were supposed to perform a choral dance round the central fire, "not without song." it is this doctrine which shakespeare alludes to when he makes lorenzo teach astronomy to jessica in this fashion: "sit, jessica, look how the floor of heaven is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold! there's not the smallest orb that thou behold'st but in this motion like an angel sings, still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim; such harmony is in immortal souls! but whilst this muddy vesture of decay doth grossly close it in we cannot hear it." merchant of venice the spheres were conceived to be crystalline or glassy fabrics arranged over one another like a nest of bowls reversed. in the substance of each sphere one or more of the heavenly bodies was supposed to be fixed, so as to move with it. as the spheres are transparent, we look through them, and see the heavenly bodies which they contain and carry round with them. but as these spheres cannot move on one another without friction, a sound is thereby produced which is of exquisite harmony, too fine for mortal ears to recognize. milton, in his hymn to the nativity, thus alludes to the music of the spheres: "ring out, ye crystal spheres! once bless our human ears; (if ye have power to charm our senses so); and let your silver chime move in melodious time, and let the base of heaven's deep organ blow: and with your nine-fold harmony make up full concert with the angelic symphony." pythagoras is said to have invented the lyre, of which other fables give the invention to mercury. our own poet, longfellow, in verses to a child, thus relates the story: "as great pythagoras of yore, standing beside the blacksmith's door, and hearing the hammers as they smote the anvils with a different note, stole from the varying tones that hung vibrant on every iron tongue, the secret of the sounding wire, a nd formed the seven-chorded lyre." see also the same poet's occultation of orion: "the samian's great aeolian lyre." sybaris and crotona sybaris, a neighboring city to crotona, was as celebrated for luxury and effeminacy as crotona for the reverse. the name has become proverbial. lowell uses it in this sense in his charming little poem to the dandelion: "not in mild june the golden-cuirassed bee feels a more summer-like, warm ravishment in the white lily's breezy tent, (his conquered sybaris) than i when first from the dark green thy yellow circles burst." a war arose between the two cities, and sybaris was conquered and destroyed. milo, the celebrated athlete, led the army of crotona. many stories are told of milo's vast strength, such as his carrying a heifer of four years old upon his shoulders, and afterwards eating the whole of it in a single day. the mode of his death is thus related: as he was passing through a forest he saw the trunk of a tree which had been partially split open by wood-cutters, and attempted to rend it further; but the wood closed upon his hands and held him fast, in which state he was attacked and devoured by wolves. byron, in his ode to napoleon bonaparte, alludes to the story of milo: "he who of old would rend the oak deemed not of the rebound; chained by the trunk he vainly broke, alone, how looked he round!" egyptian deities the remarkable discovery by which champollion the younger (so called to distinguish him from his older brother, champollion figeac, who also studied the hieroglyphics)) first opened to modern times the secret of the egyptian hieroglyphics, has been followed up by laborious studies, which tell us more of egyptian worship and mythology, with more precision, than we know of any other ancient religion but that of the hebrews. we have even great numbers of copies of the liturgies, or handbooks of worship, of funeral solemnities, and other rituals, which have been diligently translated. and we have a sufficient body of the literature written and used by the priesthood. these discoveries give to writers of this generation a much fuller knowledge of the egyptian religion, of its forms, and of the names of its gods, than they had before. it is impossible, and probably always will be, to state with precision the theology on which it rested. it is impossible, because that theology was different in one time and with one school from what it was at other times. mr. s. birch, of the british museum, says, "the religion of the egyptians consisted of an extended polytheism represented by a system of local groups." but mr. pierret says, "the polytheism of the monuments is but an outward show. the innumerable gods of the pantheon are but manifestations of the one being in his various capacities. mariette bey says, "the one result is that according to the egyptians, the universe was god himself, and that pantheism formed the foundation of their religion." in this book it is not necessary to reconcile views so diverse, nor indeed to enter on studies so profound as those which should decide between them. for our purpose here it is enough to know that the sun was the older object of worship, and in his various forms rising, midday, or setting was adored under different names. frequently his being and these names were united to the types of other deities. mr. birch believes that the worship of osiris prevailed largely beside the worship of the sun, and is not to be confounded with it. to osiris, set, the egyptian devil, was opposed. the original god, the origin of all things, manifests himself to men, in lesser forms, according to this mythology, more and more human and less and less intangible. these forms are generally triads, and resolve themselves into a male deity, a female deity, and their child. triad after triad brings the original divinity into forms more and more earthly, till at last we find "that we have no longer to do with the infinite and intangible god of the earliest days, but rather with a god of flesh and blood, who lives upon earth, and has so abased himself as to be no more than a human king. it is no longer the god of whom no man knew either the form or the substance: it is kneph at esneh, hathor at durderah, horus, king of the divine dynasty at edfoo." these words are m. maspero's. the greek and latin poets and philosophers, as they made some very slight acquaintance with egyptian worship, give greek or latin names to the divinities worshipped. thus we sometimes hear osiris spoken of as the egyptian hermes. but such changes of names are confusing, and are at best but fanciful (in the same way plutarch, a greek writer, says of the jews' feast of tabernacles, "i know that their god is our bacchus." this was merely from the vines, vine leaves and wine used in the ceremonies.) it would happen sometimes, in later times, that a fashion of religion would carry the worship of one god or goddess to a distance. thus the worship of isis became fashionable in rome in the time of nero and paul, as readers of bulwer's last days of pompeii will remember. the latest modern literature occasionally uses the egyptian names, as the last two centuries have disinterred them from the inscriptions on the monuments, and from the manuscripts in the tombs. earlier english writers generally use the names like osiris, anubis, and others found in latin and greek writers. the following statement as to these deities and their names is from mr. birch: "the deities of ancient egypt consist of celestial, terrestrial, and infernal gods, and of many inferior personages, either representatives of the greater gods or attendants on them. most of the gods were connected with the sun, and represented that luminary through the upper hemisphere or heaven and the lower hemisphere or hades. to the deities of the solar cycle belonged the great gods of thebes and heliopolis. in the local worship of egypt the deities were arranged in local triads; thus at memphis, ptah, his wife merienptah, and their son nefer atum, formed a triad, to which was sometimes added the goddess bast or bubastis. at abydos the local triad was osiris, isis, and horus, with nephthys; at thebes, amen ra or ammon, mut and chons, with neith; at elephantine, kneph, anuka, sati, and hak. in most instances the names of the gods are egyptian; thus, ptah meant 'the opener'; amen, 'the concealed'; ra, 'the sun or day'; athor, 'the house of horus';' but some few, especially of later times, were introduced from semitic sources, as bal or baal, astaruta or astarte, khen or kiun, respu or reseph. besides the principal gods, several inferior or parhedral gods, sometimes personifications of the faculties, senses, and other objects, are introduced into the religious system, and genii, spirits or personified souls of deities formed part of the same. at a period subsequent to their first introduction the gods were divided into three orders. the first or highest comprised eight deities, who were different in the memphian and theban systems. they were supposed to have reigned over egypt before the time of mortals. the eight gods of the first order at memphis were . ptah; . shu; . tefnu; . seb; . nut; . osiris; . isis and horus; . athor. those of thebes were . amen ra; . mentu; . atum; . shu and tefnu; . seb; . osiris; . set and nepthys; . horus and athor. the gods of the second order were twelve in number, but the name of one only, an egyptian hercules, has been preserved. the third order is stated to have comprised osiris, who, it will be seen, belonged to the first order." guide to the first and second egyptian rooms, british museum. s. birch miss edwards gives the following convenient register of the names most familiar among the egyptian gods (in her very interesting book, "a thousand miles up the nile"). phtah or ptah: in form a mummy, holding the emblem called by some the nilometer, by others the emblem of stability, called "the father of the beginning, the creator of the egg of the sun and moon," chief deity of memphis. kneph, knoum or knouphis: ram-headed, called the maker of gods and men, the soul of the gods. chief deity of elephantine and the cataracts. ra: hawk-headed, and crowned with the sun-disc, encircled by an asp. the divine disposer and organizer of the world; adored throughout egypt. amen ra: of human form, crowned with a flat-topped cap and two long, straight plumes; clothed in the schenti; his flesh sometimes painted blue. there are various forms of this god (there were almost as many varieties of ammon in egypt as there are varieties of the madonna in italy or spain), but he is most generally described as king of the gods, chief deity of thebes. khem: of human form, mummified; wears head-dress of amen ra; his right hand uplifted, holding a flail. the god of productiveness and generation. chief deity of khemmis, or ekhmeem. osiris: of human form, mummified, crowned with a mitre, and holding the flail and crook. called the good; the lord above all; the one lord. was the god of the lower world; judge of the dead; and representative of the sun below the horizon. adored through egypt. local deity of abydos. nefer atum: human-headed, and crowned with the pschent. this god represented the nocturnal sun, or the sun lighting the lower world. local deity of heliopolis. thoth: in form a man, ibis-headed, generally depicted with the pen and palette of a scribe. was the god of the moon, and of letters. local deity of sesoon, or hermopolit. seb: the "father of the gods," and deity of terrestrial vegetation. in form like a man with a goose upon his head. set: represented by a symbolic animal, with a muzzle and ears like a jackal, the body of an ass, and an upright tail, like the tail of a lion. was originally a warlike god, and became in later times the symbol of evil and the enemy of osiris. khons: hawk-headed, crowned with the sun-disc and horns. is sometimes represented as a youth with the side-lock, standing on a crocodile. horus: horus appears variously as horus, horus aroeris, and horus harpakhrat (hippocrates), or horus the child. is represented under the first two forms as a man, hawk-headed, wearing the double crown of egypt; in the latter as a child with the side- lock. local deity of edfoo (apollinopolis magna). maut: a woman draped, and crowned with the pschent (the pschent was a double crown, worn by the king at his coronation), representing a vulture. adored at thebes. neith: a woman draped, holding sometimes a bow and arrows, crowned with the crown of lower egypt. she presided over war, and the loom. worshipped at thebes. isis: a woman crowned with the sun-disc surmounted by a throne, and sometimes enclosed between horns. adored at abydos. her soul resided in sothis on the dog-star. nut: a woman so bent that her hands touched the earth. she represents the vault of heaven, and is the mother of the gods. hathor: cow-headed, and crowned with the disc and plumes. deity of amenti, or the egyptian hades. worshipped at denderah. pasht: pasht and bast appear to be two forms of the same goddess. as bast she is represented as a woman, lion-headed, with the disc and uroeus; as pasht she is cat-headed, and holds a sistrum. adored at bubastis. observe the syllable bast. the highest visible deity of the egyptians was amun ra, or amen ra, the concealed sun; the word ra signifying the sun. this name appears in the greek and latin writers as zeus ammon and jupiter ammon. when amun manifests himself by his word, will or spirit, he is known as nu, num, noub, nef, neph, or kneph, and this word kneph through the form cnuphis is, perhaps, the anubis of the greek and latin authors. that word has not been found earlier than the time of augustus. anubis was then worshipped as the guardian god, and represented with a dog's head. the soul of osiris was supposed to exist in some way in the sacred bull apis, of which serapis or sarapis is probably another name. "apis," says herodotus, "is a young bull, whose hair is black, on his forehead a white triangle, -- on his back an eagle, with a beetle under his tongue and with the hair of his tail double." ovid says he is of various colors. plutarch says he has a crescent on his right side. these superstitions varied from age to age. apis was worshipped in memphis. it must be observed, in general, that the names in the latin classics belong to a much later period of the egyptian religion than the names found on most of the monuments. it will be found, that, as in the change from nu to anubis, it is difficult to trace the progress of a name from one to the other. in the cases where an ox, a ram, or a dog is worshipped with, or as a symbol of, a god, we probably have the survival of a very early local idolatry. horus or harpocrates, named above, was the son of osiris. he is sometimes represented, seated on a lotus-flower, with his finger on his lips, as the god of silence. in one of moore's irish melodies is an allusion to harpocrates: - "thyself shall, under some rosy bower, sit mute, with thy finger on thy lip: like him, the boy, who born among the flowers that on the nile-stream blush, sits over thus, his only song to earth and heaven, "hush, all, hush!" myth of osiris and isis osiris and isis were at one time induced to descend to the earth to bestow gifts and blessings on its inhabitants. isis showed them first the use of wheat and barley, and osiris made the instruments of agriculture and taught men the use of them, as well as how to harness the ox to the plough. he then gave men laws, the institution of marriage, a civil organization, and taught them how to worship the gods. after he had thus made the valley of the nile a happy country, he assembled a host with which he went to bestow his blessings upon the rest of the world. he conquered the nations everywhere, but not with weapons, only with music and eloquence. his brother typhon (typhon is supposed to be the seth of the monuments) saw this, and filled with envy and malice sought, during his absence, to usurp his throne. but isis, who held the reins of government, frustrated his plans. still more embittered, he now resolved to kill his brother. this he did in the following manner: having organized a conspiracy of seventy-two members, he went with them to the feast which was celebrated in honor of the king's return. he then caused a box or chest to be brought in, which had been made to fit exactly the size of osiris, and declared that he would give that chest of precious wood to whosoever could get into it. the rest tried in vain, but no sooner was osiris in it than typhon and his companions closed the lid and flung the chest into the nile. when isis heard of the cruel murder she wept and mourned, and then with her hair shorn, clothed in black and beating her breast, she sought diligently for the body of her husband. in this search she was assisted by anubis, the son of osiris and nephthys. they sought in vain for some time; for when the chest, carried by the waves to the shores of byblos, had become entangled in the reeds that grew at the edge of the water, the divine power that dwelt in the body of osiris imparted such strength to the shrub that it grew into a mighty tree, enclosing in its trunk the coffin of the god. this tree, with its sacred deposit, was shortly afterward felled, and erected as a column in the palace of the king of phoenicia. but at length, by the aid of anubis and the sacred birds, isis ascertained these facts, and then went to the royal city. there she offered herself at the palace as a servant, and being admitted, threw off her disguise and appeared as the goddess, surrounded with thunder and lightning. striking the column with her wand, she caused it to split open and give up the sacred coffin. this she seized and returned with it, and concealed it in the depth of a forest, but typhon discovered it, and cutting the body into fourteen pieces, scattered them hither and thither. after a tedious search, isis found thirteen pieces, the fishes of the nile having eaten the other. this she replaced by an imitation of sycamore wood, and buried the body at philoe, which became ever after the great burying place of the nation, and the spot to which pilgrimages were made from all parts of the country. a temple of surpassing magnificence was also erected there in honor of the god, and at every place where one of his limbs had been found, minor temples and tombs were built to commemorate the event. osiris became after that the tutelar deity of the egyptians. his soul was supposed always to inhabit the body of the bull apis, and at his death to transfer itself to his successor. apis, the bull of memphis, was worshipped with the greatest reverence by the egyptians. as soon as a bull marked with the marks which have been described, was found by those sent in search of him, he was placed in a building facing the east, and was fed with milk for four months. at the expiration of this term the priests repaired at new moon with great pomp, to his habitation, and saluted him apis. he was placed in a vessel magnificently decorated and conveyed down the nile to memphis, where a temple, with two chapels and a court for exercise, was assigned to him. sacrifices were made to him, and once every year, about the time when the nile began to rise, a golden cup was thrown into the river, and a grand festival was held to celebrate his birthday. the people believed that during this festival the crocodiles forgot their natural ferocity and became harmless. there was however one drawback to his happy lot; he was not permitted to live beyond a certain period; and if when he had attained the age of twenty-five years, he still survived, the priests drowned him in the sacred cistern, and then buried him in the temple of serapis. on the death of this bull, whether it occurred in the course of nature or by violence, the whole land was filled with sorrow and lamentations, which lasted until his successor was found. a new apis was found as late as the reign of hadrian. a mummy made from one of the sacred bulls may be seen in the egyptian collection of the historical society, new york. milton, in his hymn of the nativity, alludes to the egyptian deities, not as imaginary beings, but as real demons put to flight by the coming of christ: "the brutish gods of nile as fast, isis and horus and the dog anubis haste. nor is osiris seen in memphian grove or green trampling the unshowered* grass with lowings loud; nor can he be at rest within his sacred chest; nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud. in vain with timbrel'd anthems dark the sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipped ark." *(there being no rain in egypt, the grass is "unshowered," and the country depends for its fertility upon the overflowings of the nile. the ark alluded to in the last line is shown by pictures still remaining on the walls of the egyptian temples to have been borne by the priests in their religious processions. it probably represented the chest in which osiris was placed.) isis was represented in statuary with the head veiled, a symbol of mystery. it is this which tennyson alludes to in maud, v. "for the drift of te maker is dark, an isis hid by the veil." oracles oracle was the name used to denote the place where answers were supposed to be given by any of the divinities to those who consulted them respecting the future. the word was also used to signify the response which was given. the most ancient grecian oracle was that of jupiter at dodona. according to one account it was established in the following manner. two black doves took their flight from thebes in egypt. one flew to dodona in epirus and alighting in a grove of oaks, it proclaimed in human language to the inhabitants of the district that they must establish there an oracle of jupiter. the other dove flew to the temple of jupiter ammon in the libyan oasis, and delivered a similar command there. another account is, that they were not doves, but priestesses, who were carried off from thebes in egypt by the phoenicians, and set up oracles at oasis and dodona. the responses of the oracle were given from the trees, by the branches rustling in the wind, the sounds being interpreted by the priests. but the most celebrated of the grecian oracles was that of apollo at delphi, a city built on the slopes of parnassus in phocis. it had been observed at a very early period that the goats feeding on parnassus were thrown into convulsions when they approached a certain long deep cleft in the side of the mountain. this was owing to a peculiar vapor arising out of the cavern, and one of the goatherds was induced to try its effects upon himself. inhaling the intoxicating air he was affected in the same manner as the cattle had been, and the inhabitants of the surrounding country, unable to explain the circumstance, imputed the convulsive ravings to which he gave utterance while under the power of the exhalations, to a divine inspiration. the fact was speedily circulated widely, and a temple was erected on the spot. the prophetic influence was at first variously attributed to the goddess earth, to neptune, themis, and others, but it was at length assigned to apollo, and to him alone. a priestess was appointed whose office it was to inhale the hallowed air, and who was named the pythia. she was prepared for this duty by previous ablution at the fountain of castalia, and being crowned with laurel was seated upon a tripod similarly adorned, which was placed over the chasm whence the divine afflatus proceeded. her inspired words while thus situated were interpreted by the priests. oracle of trophonius besides the oracles of jupiter and apollo, at dodona and delphi, that of trophonius in boeotia was held in high estimation. trophonius and agamedes were brothers. they were distinguished architechts, and built the temple of apollo at delphi, and a treasury for king hyrieus. in the wall of the treasury they placed a stone, in such a manner that it could be taken out; and by this means from time to time purloined the treasure. this amazed hyrieus, for his locks and seals were untouched, and yet his wealth, continually diminished. at length he set a trap for the thief and agamedes was caught. trophonius unable to extricate him, and fearing that when found he would be compelled by torture to discover his accomplice, cut off his head. trophonius himself is said to have been shortly afterwards swallowed up by the earth. the oracle of trophonius was at lebadea in boeotia. during a great drought the boeotians, it is said, were directed by the god at delphi to seek aid of trophonius at lebadea. they came thither, but could find no oracle. one of them, however, happening to see a swarm of bees, followed them to a chasm in the earth, which proved to be the place sought. peculiar ceremonies were to be performed by the person who came to consult the oracle. after these preliminaries, he descended into the cave by a narrow passage. this place could be entered only in the night. the person returned from the cave by the same narrow passage, but walking backwards. he appeared melancholy and dejected; and hence the proverb which was applied to a person low-spirited and gloomy, "he has been consulting the oracle of trophonius." oracle of aesculapius there were numerous oracles of aesculapius, but the most celebrated one was at epidaurus. here the sick sought responses and the recovry of their health by sleeping in the temple. it has been inferred from the accounts that have come down to us, that the treatment of the sick resembled what is now called animal magnetism or mesmerism. serpents were sacred to aesculapius, probably because of a superstition that those animals have a faculty of renewing their youth by a change of skin. the worship of aesculapius was introduced into rome in a time of great sickness, and an embassy sent to the temple of epidaurus to entreat the aid of the god. aesculapius was propitious, and on the return of the ship accompanied it in the form of a serpent. arriving in the river tiber, the serpent glided from the vessel and took possession of an island in the river, and a temple was there erected to his honor. oracle of apis at memphis the sacred bull apis gave answer to those who consulted him, by the manner in which he received or rejected what was presented to him. if the bull refused food from the hand of the inquirer it was considered an unfavorable sign, and the contrary when he received it. it has been a question whether oracular responses ought to be ascribed to mere human contrivance or to the agency of evil spirits. the latter opinion has been most general in past ages. a third theory has been advanced since the phenomena of mesmerism have attracted attention, that something like the mesmeric trance was induced in the pythoness, and the faculty of clairvoyance really called into action. another question is as to the time when the pagan oracles ceased to give responses. ancient christian writers assert that they became silent at the birth of christ, and were heard no more after that date. milton adopts this view in his hymn of the nativity, and in lines of solemn and elevated beauty pictures the consternation of the heathen idols at the advent of the saviour. "the oracles are dumb; no voice or hideous hum rings through the arched roof in words deceiving. apollo from his shrine can no more divine, with hollow shriek the steep of delphos leaving. no nightly trance or breathed spell inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell." in cowper's poem of yardley oak there are some beautiful mythological allusions. the former of the two following is to the fable of castor and pollux; the latter is more appropriate to our present subject. addressing the acorn he says, "thou fell'st mature; and in the loamy clod, swelling with vegetative force instinct, didst burst thine egg, as theirs the fabled twins now stars; two lobes protruding, paired exact; a leaf succeeded and another leaf, and, all the elements thy puny growth fostering propitious, thou becam'st a twig. who lived when thou was such? oh, couldst thou speak as in dodona once thy kindred trees oracular, i would not curious ask the future, best unknown, but at thy mouth inquisitive, the less ambiguous past." tennyson in his talking oak alludes to the oaks of dodona in these lines: "and i will work in prose and rhyme, and praise thee more in both than bard has honored beech or lime, or that thessalian growth in which the swarthy ring-dove sat and mystic sentence spoke." byron alludes to the oracle of delphi where, speaking of rousseau, whose writings he conceives did much to bring on the french revolution, he says, "for then he was inspired, and from him came, as from the pythian's mystic cave of yore, those oracles which set the world in flame, nor ceased to burn till kingdoms were no more." chapter xxviii origin of mythology statues of gods and goddesses poets of mythology having reached the close of our series of stories of pagan mythology, an inquiry suggests itself. "whence came these stories? have they a foundation in truth, or are they simply dreams of the imagination?" philosophers have suggested various theories on the subject of which we shall give three or four. . the scriptural theory; according to which all mythological legends are derived from the narratives of scripture, though the real facts have been disguised and altered. thus deucalion is only another name for noah, hercules for samson, arion for jonah, etc. sir walter raleigh, in his history of the world, says, "jubal, tubal, and tubal-cain were mercury, vulcan, and apollo, inventors of pasturage, smithing, and music. the dragon which kept the golden apples was the serpent that beguiled eve. nimrod's tower was the attempt of the giants against heaven. there are doubtless many curious coincidences like these, but the theory cannot without extravagance be pushed so far as to account for any great proportion of the stories. . the historical theory; according to which all the persons mentioned in mythology were once real human beings, and the legends and fabulous traditions relating to them are merely the additions and embellishments of later times. thus the story of aeolus, the king and god of the winds, is supposed to have risen from the fact that aeolus was the ruler of some islands in the tyrrhenian sea, where he reigned as a just and pious king, and taught the natives the use of sails for ships, and how to tell from the signs of the atmosphere the changes of the weather and the winds. cadmus, who, the legend says, sowed the earth with dragon's teeth, from which sprang a crop of armed men, was in fact an emigrant from phoenicia, and brought with him into greece the knowledge of the letters of the alphabet, which he taught to the natives. from these rudiments of learning sprung civilization, which the poets have always been prone to describe as a deterioration of man's first estate, the golden age of innocence and simplicity. . the allegorical theory supposes that all the myths of the ancients were allegorical and symbolical, and contained some moral, religious, or philosophical truth or historical fact, under the form of an allegory, but came in process of time to be understood literally. thus saturn, who devours his own children, is the same power whom the greeks called kronos (time), which may truly be said to destroy whatever it has brought into existence. the story of io is interpreted in a similar manner. io is the moon, and argus the starry sky, which, as it were, keeps sleepless watch over her. the fabulous wanderings of io represent the continual revolutions of the moon, which also suggested to milton the same idea. "to behold the wandering moon riding near her highest noon, like one that had been led astray in the heaven's wide, pathless way." il penseroso . the astronomical theory supposes that the different stories are corrupted versions of astronomical statements, of which the true meaning was forgotten. this theory is pushed to its extreme by dupuis, in his treatise "sur tous les cultes." . the physical theory, according to which the elements of air, fire, and water, were originally the objects of religious adoration, and the principal deities were personifications of the powers of nature. the transition was easy from a personification of the elements to the notion of supernatural beings presiding over and governing the different objects of nature. the greeks, whose imagination was lively, peopled all nature with invisible beings, and supposed that every object, from the sun and sea to the smallest fountain and rivulet, was under the care of some particular divinity. wordsworth, in his excursion, has beautifully developed this view of grecian mythology. "in that fair clime the lonely herdsman, stretched on the soft grass through half a summer's day, with music lulled his indolent repose; and, in some fit of weariness, if he, when his own breath was silent, chanced to hear a distant strain far sweeter than the sounds which his poor skill could make, his fancy fetched even from the blazing chariot of the sun a beardless youth who touched a golden lute, and filled the illumined groves with ravishment. the mighty hunter, lifting up his eyes toward the crescent moon, with grateful heart called on the lovely wanderer who bestowed that timely light to share his joyous sport; and hence a beaming goddess with her nymphs across the lawn and through the darksome grove (not unaccompanied with tuneful notes by echo multiplied from rock or cave) swept in the storm of chase, as moon and stars glance rapidly along the clouded heaven when winds are blowing strong. the traveller slaked his thirst from rill or gushing fount, and thanked the naiad. sunbeams upon distant hills gliding apace with shadows in their train, might with small help from fancy, be transformed into fleet oreads sporting visibly. the zephyrs, fanning, as they passed, their wings, lacked not for love fair objects whom they wooed with gentle whisper. withered boughs grotesque, stripped of their leaves and twigs by hoary age, from depth of shaggy covert peeping forth in the low vale, or on steep mountain side; and sometimes intermixed with stirring horns of the live deer, or goat's depending beard; these were the lurking satyrs, a wild brood of gamesome deities; or pan himself, the simple shepherd's awe-inspiring god." all the theories which have bene mentioned are true to a certain extent. it would therefore be more correct to say that the mythology of a nation has sprung from all these sources combined than from any one in particular. we may add also that there are many myths which have risen from the desire of man to account for those natural phenomena which he cannot understand; and not a few have had their rise from a similar desire of giving a reason for the names of places and persons. statues of the gods adequately to represent to the eye the ideas intended to be conveyed to the mind under the several names of deities, was a task which called into exercise the highest powers of genius and art. of the many attempts four have been most celebrated, the first two known to us only by the descriptions of the ancients, and by copies on gems, which are still preserved; the other two still extant and the acknowledged masterpieces of the sculptor's art. the olympian jupiter the statue of the olympian jupiter by phidias was considered the highest achievement of this department of grecian art. it was of colossal dimensions, and was what the ancients called "chryselephantine;" that is, composed of ivory and gold; the parts representing flesh being of ivory laid on a core of wood or stone, while the drapery and other ornaments were of gold. the height of the figure was forty feet, on a pedestal twelve feet high. the god was represented seated on this throne. his brows were crowned with a wreath of olive, and he held in his right hand a sceptre, and in his left a statue of victory. the throne was of cedar, adorned with gold and precious stones. the idea which the artist essayed to embody was that of the supreme deity of the hellenic (grecian) nation, enthroned as a conqueror, in perfect majesty and repose, and ruling with a nod the subject world. phidias avowed that he took his idea from the representation which homer gives in the first book of the iliad, in the passage thus translated by pope: "he spoke and awful bends his sable brows, shakes his ambrosial curls and gives the nod, the stamp of fate and sanction of the god. high heaven with reverence the dread signal took, a nd all olympus to the centre shook." (cowper's version is less elegant, but truer to the original. "he ceased, and under his dark brows the nod vouchsafed of confirmation. all around the sovereign's everlasting head his curls ambrosial shook, and the huge mountain reeled." it may interest our readers to see how this passage appears in another famous version, that which was issued under the name of tickell, contemporaneously with pope's, and which, being by many attributed to addison, led to the quarrel which ensued between addison and pope. "this said, his kingly brow the sire inclined; the large black curls fell awful from behind, thick shadowing the stern forehead of the god; olympus trembled at the almighty nod.") the minerva of the parthenon this was also the work of phidias. it stood in the parthenon, or temple of minera at athens. the goddess was represented standing. in one hand she held a spear, in the other a statue of victory. her helmet, highly decorated, was surmounted by a sphinx. the statue was forty feet in height, and, like the jupiter, composed of ivory and gold. the eyes were of marble, and probably painted to represent the iris and pupil. the parthenon in which this statue stood was also constructed under the direction and superintendence of phidias. its exterior was enriched with sculptures, many of them from the hand of phidias. the elgin marbles now in the british museum are a part of them. both the jupiter and minerva of phidias are lost, but there is good ground to believe that we have, in several extant statues and busts, the artist's conceptions of the countenances of both. they are characterized by grave and dignified beauty, and freedom from any transient expression, which in the language of art is called repose. the venus de' medici the venus of the medici is so called from its having been in the possession of the princes of that name in rome when it first attracted attention, about two hundred years ago. an inscription on the base records it to be the work of cleomenes, an athenian sculptor of b.c., but the authenticity of the inscription is doubtful. there is a story that the artist was employed by public authority to make a statue exhibiting the perfection of female beauty, and to aid him in his task, the most perfect forms the city could supply were furnished him for models. it is this which thomson alludes to in his summer. "so stands the statue that enchants the world; so bending tries to veil the matchless boast, the mingled beauties of exulting greece." byron also alludes to this statue. speaking of the florence museum, he says: "there too the goddess loves in stone, and fills the air around with beauty;" and in the next stanza, "blood, pulse, and breast confirm the dardan shepherd's prize." this last allusion is explained in chapter xx. the apollo belvedere the most highly esteemed of all the remains of ancient sculpture is the statue of apollo, called the belvedere, from the name of the apartment of the pope's palace at rome, in which it is placed. the artist is unknown. it is supposed to be a work of roman art, of about the first century of our era. it is a standing figure, in marble, more than seven feet high, naked except for the cloak which is fastened around the neck and hangs over the extended left arm. it is supposed to represent the god in the moment when he has shot the arrow to destroy the monster python (see chapter ii). the victorious divinity is in the act of stepping forward. the left arm which seems to have held the bow is outstretched, and the head is turned in the same direction. in attitude and proportion the graceful majesty of the figure is unsurpassed. the effect is completed by the countenance, where, on the perfection of youthful godlike beauty there dwells the consciousness of triumphant power. the diana a la biche the diana of the hind, in the palace of the louvre, may be considered the counterpart to the apollo belvedere. the attitude much resembles that of the apollo, the sizes correspond and also the style of execution. it is a work of the highest order, though by no means equal to the apollo. the attitude is that of hurried and eager motion, the face that of a huntress in the excitement of the chase. the left hand is extended over the forehead of the hind which runs by her side, the right arm reaches backward over the shoulder to draw an arrow from the quiver. the venus of melos of the venus of melos, perhaps the most famous of our statues of mythology, very little is known. there are many indeed who believe that it is not a statue of venus at all. it was found in the year in the island of melos by a peasant, who sold it to the french consul at the place. the statue was standing in the theatre, which had been filled up with rubbish in the course of centuries, and when discovered was broken in several places, and some of the pieces were gone. these missing pieces, notably the two arms, have been restored in various ways by modern artists. as has been said above, there is a controversy as to whether the statue represents venus or some other goddess. much has been written on each side, but the question still remains unsettled. the general opinion of those who contend that it is not venus is that it is a statue or nike or victory. the poets of mythology homer, from whose poems of the iliad and odyssey we have taken the chief part of our chapters of the trojan war and the return of the grecians, is almost as mythical a personage as the heroes he celebrates. the traditionary story is that he was a wandering minstrel, blind and old, who travelled from place to place singing his lays to the music of his harp, in the courts of princes or the cottages of peasants, and dependent upon the voluntary offerings of his hearers for support. byron calls him "the blind old man of scio's rocky isle," and a well-known epigram, alluding to the uncertainty of the fact of his birthplace, says, "seven wealthy towns contend for homer dead, through which the living homer begged his bread." an older version is, "seven cities warred for homer being dead, who living had no roof to shroud his head." these lines are by thomas heywood; the others are ascribed to thomas seward. these seven cities were smyrna, scio, rhodes, colophon, salamis, argos, and athens. modern scholars have doubted whether the homeric poems are the work of any single mind. this arises from the difficulty of believing that poems of such length could have been committed to writing at so early an age as that usually assigned to these, an age earlier than the date of any remaining inscriptions or coins, and when no materials, capable of containing such long productions were yet introduced into use. on the other hand it is asked how poems of such length could have been handed down from age to age by means of the memory alone. this is answered by the statement that there was a professional body of men, called rhapsodists, who recited the poems of others, and whose business it was to commit to memory and rehearse for pay the national and patriotic legends. the prevailing opinion of the learned, at this time, seems to be that the framework and much of the structure of the poems belong to homer, but that there are numerous interpolations and additions by other hands. the date assigned to homer, on the authority of herodotus, is b.c., but a range of two or three centuries must be given for the various conjectures of critics. virgil virgil, called also by his surname, maro, from whose poem of the aeneid we have taken the story of aeneas, was one of the great poets who made the reign of the roman emperor, augustus, so celebrated, under the name of the augustan age. virgil was born in mantua in the year b.c. his great poem is ranked next to those of homer, in the highest class of poetical composition, the epic. virgil is far inferior to homer in originality and invention, but superior to him in correctness and elegance. to critics of english lineage milton alone of modern poets seems worthy to be classed with these illustrious ancients. his poem of paradise lost, from which we have borrowed so many illustrations, is in many respects equal, in some superior, to either of the great works of antiquity. the following epigram of dryden characterizes the three poets with as much truth as it is usual to find in such pointed criticism: on milton "three poets in three different ages born. greece, italy, and england did adorn. the first in loftiness of soul surpassed, the next in majesty, in both the last. the force of nature could no further go; to make a third she joined the other two." from cowper's table talk: "ages elapsed ere homer's lamp appeared, and ages ere the mantuan swan was heard. to carry nature lengths unknown before, to give a milton birth, asked ages more. thus genius rose and set at ordered times, and shot a dayspring into distant climes, ennobling every region that he chose; he sunk in greece, in italy he rose, and, tedious years of gothic darkness past, emerged all splendor in our isle at last. thus lovely halcyons dive into the main, then show far off their shining plumes again." ovid often alluded to in poetry by his other name of naso, was born in the year b.c. he was educated for public life and held some offices of considerable dignity, but poetry was his delight, and he early resolved to devote himself to it. he accordingly sought the society of the contemporary poets, and was acquainted with horace and saw virgil, though the latter died when ovid was yet too young and undistinguished to have formed his acquaintance. ovid spent an easy life at rome in the enjoyment of a competent income. he was intimate with the family of augustus, the emperor, and it is supposed that some serious offence given to some member of that family was the cause of an event which reversed the poet's happy circumstances and clouded all the latter portion of his life. at the age of fifty he was banished from rome, and ordered to betake himself to tomi, on the borders of the black sea. here, among the barbarous people and in a severe climate, the poet, who had been accustomed to all the pleasures of a luxurious capital and the society of his most distinguished contemporaries, spent the last ten years of his life, worn out with grief and anxiety. his only consolation in exile was to address his wife and absent friends, and his letters were all poetical. though these poems (the tristia and letters from pontus) have no other topic than the poet's sorrows, his exquisite taste and fruitful invention have redeemed them from the charge of being tedious, and they are read with pleasure and even with sympathy. the two great works of ovid are his metamorphoses and his fasti. they are both mythological poems, and from the former we have taken most of our stories of grecian and roman mythology. a late writer thus characterizes these poems: "the rich mythology of greece furnished ovid, as it may still furnish the poet, the painter, and the sculptor, with materials for his art. with exquisite taste, simplicity, and pathos he has narrated the fabulous traditions of early ages, and given to them that appearance of reality which only a master-hand could impart. his pictures of nature are striking and true; he selects with care that which is appropriate; he rejects the superfluous; and when he has completed his work, it is neither defective nor redundant. the metamorphoses are read with pleasure by youth, and are re-read in more advanced age with still greater delight. the poet ventured to predict that his poem would survive him, and be read wherever the roman name was known." the prediction above alluded to is contained in the closing lines of the metamorphoses, of which we give a literal translation below: "and now i close my work, which not the ire of jove, nor tooth of time, nor sword, nor fire shall bring to nought. come when it will that day which o'er the body, not the mind, has sway, a nd snatch the remnant of my life away, my better part above the stars shall soar, and my renown endure for evermore. where'er the roman arms and arts shall spread, there by the people shall my book be read; and, if aught true in poet's visions be, my name and fame have immortality." chapter xxix modern monsters: the phoenix basilisk unicorn salamander there is a set of imaginary beings which seem to have been the successors of the "gorgons, hydras, and chimeras dire" of the old superstitions, and, having no connection with the false gods of paganism, to have continued to enjoy an existence in the popular belief after paganism was superseded by christianity. they are mentioned perhaps by the classical writers, but their chief popularity and currency seem to have been in more modern times. we seek our accounts of them not so much in the poetry of the ancients, as in the old natural history books and narrations of travellers. the accounts which we are about to give are taken chiefly from the penny cyclopedia. the phoenix ovid tells the story of the phoenix as follows: "most beings spring from other individuals; but there is a certain kind which reproduces itself. the assyrians call it the phoenix. it does not live on fruit or flowers, but on frankincense and odoriferous gums. when it has lived five hundred years, it builds itself a nest in the branches of an oak, or on the top of a palm-tree. in this it collects cinnamon, and spikenard, and myrrh, and of these materials builds a pile on which it deposits itself, and dying, breathes out its last breath amidst odors. from the body of the parent bird a young phoenix issues forth, destined to live as long a life as its predecessor. when this has grown up and gained sufficient strength, it lifts its nest from the tree (its own cradle and its parent's sepulchre) and carries it to the city of heliopolis in egypt, and deposits it in the temple of the sun." such is the account given by a poet. now let us see that of a philosophic historian. tacitus says, "in the consulship of paulus fabius (a.d. ), the miraculous bird known to the world by the name of phoenix, after disappearing for a series of ages, revisited egypt. it was attended in its flight by a group of various birds, all attracted by the novelty, and gazing with wonder at so beautiful an appearance." he then gives an account of the bird, not varying materially from the preceding, but adding some details. "the first care of the young bird as soon as fledged and able to trust to his wings is to perform the obsequies of his father. but this duty is not undertaken rashly. he collects a quantity of myrrh, and to try his strength makes frequent excursions with a load on his back. when he has gained sufficient confidence in his own vigor, he takes up the body of his father and flies with it to the altar of the sun, where he leaves it to be consumed in flames of fragrance." other writers add a few particulars. the myrrh is compacted in the form of an egg, in which the dead phoenix is enclosed. from the mouldering flesh of the dead bird a worm springs, and this worm, when grown large, is transformed into a bird. herodotus describes the bird, though he says, "i have not seen it myself, except in a picture. part of his plumage is gold-colored, and part crimson; and he is for the most part very much like an eagle in outline and bulk." the first writer who disclaimed a belief in the existence of the phoenix was sir thomas browne, in his vulgar errors, published in . he was replied to a few years later by alexander ross, who says, in answer to the objection of the phoenix so seldom making his appearance, "his instinct teaches him to keep out of the way of the tyrant of the creation, man, for if he were to be got at some wealthy glutton would surely devour him, though there were no more in the world." dryden, in one of his early poems, has this allusion to the phoenix: "so when the new-born phoenix first is seen, her feathered subjects all adore their queen, and while she makes her progress through the east, from every grove her numerous train's increased; each poet of the air her glory sings, and round him the pleased audience clap their wings." milton, in paradise lost, book v, compares the angel raphael descending to earth to a phoenix: "down thither, prone in flight he speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing, now on the polar winds, then with quick fan winnows the buxom air; till within soar of towering eagles, to all the fowls he seems a phoenix, gazed by all; as that sole bird when, to enshrine his relics in the sun's bright temple, to egyptian thebes he flies." the cockatrice, or basilisk this animal was called the king of the serpents. in confirmation of his royalty, he was said to be endowed with a crest or comb upon the head, constituting a crown. he was supposed to be produced from the egg of a cock hatched under toads or serpents. there were several species of this animal. one species burned up whatever they approached; a second were a kind of wandering medusa's heads, and their look caused an instant horror, which was immediately followed by death. in shakespeare's play of richard the third, lady anne, in answer to richard's compliment on her eyes, says, "would they were basilisk's, to strike thee dead!" the basilisks were called kings of serpents because all other serpents and snakes, behaving like good subjects, and wisely not wishing to be burned up or struck dead, fled the moment they heard the distant hiss of their king, although they might be in full feed upon the most delicious prey, leaving the sole enjoyment of the banquet to the royal monster. the roman naturalist pliny thus describes him: "he does not impel his body like other serpents, by a multiplied flexion, but advances lofty and upright. he kills the shrubs, not only by contact but by breathing on them, and splits the rocks, such power of evil is there in him. it was formally believed that if killed by a spear from on horseback the power of the poison conducted through the weapon killed not only the rider but the horse also. to this lucan alludes in these lines: "what though the moor the basilisk hath slain, and pinned him lifeless to the sandy plain, up through the spear the subtle venom flies, the hand imbibes it, and the victor dies." such a prodigy was not likely to be passed over in the legends of the saints. accordingly we find it recorded that a certain holy man going to a fountain in the desert suddenly beheld a basilisk. he immediately raised his eyes to heaven, and with a pious appeal to the deity, laid the monster dead at his feet. these wonderful powers of the basilisk are attested by a host of learned persons, such as galen, avicenna, scaliger, and others. occasionally one would demur to some part of the tale while he admitted the rest. jonston, a learned physician, sagely remarks, "i would scarcely believe that it kills with its look, for who could have seen it and lived to tell the story?" the worthy sage was not aware that those who went to hunt the basilisk of this sort, took with them a mirror, which reflected back the deadly glare upon its author, and by a kind of poetical justice slew the basilisk with his own weapon. but what was to attack this terrible and unapproachable monster? there is an old saying that "everything has its enemy," and the cockatrice quailed before the weasel. the basilisk might look daggers, the weasel cared not, but advanced boldly to the conflict. when bitten, the weasel retired for a moment to eat some rue, which was the only plant the basilisks could not wither, returned with renewed strength and soundness to the charge, and never left the enemy till he was stretched dead on the plain. the monster, too, as if conscious of the irregular way in which he came into the world, was supposed to have a great antipathy to a cock; and well he might, for as soon as he heard the cock crow he expired. the basilisk was of some use after death. thus we read that its carcass was suspended in the temple of apollo, and in private houses, as a sovereign remedy against spiders, and that it was also hung up in the temple of diana, for which reason no swallow ever dared enter the sacred place. the reader will, we apprehend, by this time have had enough of absurdities, but still he may be interested to know that these details come from the work of one who was considered in his time an able and valuable writer on natural history. ulysses aldrovandus was a celebrated naturalist of the sixteenth century, and his work on natural history, in thirteen folio volumes, contains with much that is valuable a large proportion of fables and inutilities. in particular he is so ample on the subject of the cock and the bull, that from his practice all rambling, gossiping tales of doubtful credibility are called cock and bull stories. still he is to be remembered with respect as the founder of a botanic garden, and one of the leaders in the modern habit of making scientific collections for research and inquiry. shelley, in his ode to naples, full of the enthusiasm excited by the intelligence of the proclamation of a constitutional government at naples, in , thus uses an allusion to the basilisk: "what though cimmerian anarchs dare blaspheme freedom and thee? a new actaeon's error shall theirs have been, devoured by their own bounds! be thou like the imperial basilisk, killing thy foe with unapparent wounds! gaze on oppression, till at that dread risk, aghast she pass from the earth's disk. fear not, but gaze, for freemen mightier grow, and slaves more feeble, gazing on their foe." the unicorn pliny, the roman naturalist, out of whose account of the unicorn most of the modern unicorns have been described and figured, records it as "a very ferocious beast, similar in the rest of its body to a horse, with the head of a deer, the feet of an elephant, the tail of a boar, a deep bellowing voice, and a single black horn, two cubits in length, standing out in the middle of its forehead." he adds that "it cannot be taken alive;" and some such excuse may have been necessary in those days for not producing the living animal upon the arena of the amphitheatre. the unicorn seems to have been a sad puzzle to the hunters, who hardly knew how to come at so valuable a piece of game. some described the horn as moveable at the will of the animal, a kind of small sword in short, with which ho hunter who was not exceedingly cunning in fence could have a chance. others maintained that all the animal's strength lay in its horn, and that when hard pressed in pursuit, it would throw itself from the pinnacle of the highest rocks horn foremost, so as to pitch upon it, and then quietly march off not a whit the worse for its fall. but it seems they found out how to circumvent the poor unicorn at last. they discovered that it was a great lover of purity and innocence, so they took the field with a young virgin, who was placed in the unsuspecting admirer's way. when the unicorn spied her, he approached with all reverence, couched beside her, and laying his head in her lap, fell asleep. the treacherous virgin then gave a signal, and the hunters made in and captured the simple beast. modern zoologists, disgusted as they well may be with such fables as these, disbelieve generally the existence of the unicorn. yet there are animals bearing on their heads a bony protuberance more or less like a horn, which may have given rise to the story. the rhinoceros horn, as it is called, is such a protuberance, though it does not exceed a few inches in height, and is far from agreeing with the descriptions of the horn of the unicorn. the nearest approach to a horn in the middle of the forehead is exhibited in the bony protuberance on the forehead of the giraffe; but this also is short and blunt, and is not the only horn of the animal, but a third horn standing in front of the two others. in fine, though it would be presumptuous to deny the existence of a one-horned quadruped other than the rhinoceros, it may be safely stated that the insertion of a long and solid horn in the living forehead of a horse-like or deer-like animal, is as near an impossibility as any thing can be. the salamander the following is from the life of benvenuto cellini, an italian artist of the sixteenth century, written by himself, "when i was about five years of age, my father happening to be in a little room in which they had been washing, and where there was a good fire of oak burning, looked into the flames and saw a little animal resembling a lizard, which could live in the hottest part of that element. instantly perceiving what it was he called for my sister and me, and after he had shown us the creature, he gave me a box on the ear. i fell a crying, while he, soothing me with caresses, spoke these words: 'my dear child, i do not give you that blow for any fault you have committed, but that you may recollect that the little creature you see in the fire is a salamander; such a one as never was beheld before to my knowledge.' so saying he embraced me, and gave me some money." it seems unreasonable to doubt a story of which signor cellini was both an eye and ear witness. add to which the authority of numerous sage philosophers, at the head of whom are aristotle and pliny, affirms this power of the salamander. according to them, the animal not only resists fire, but extinguishes it, and when he sees the flame, charges it as an enemy which he well knows how to vanquish. that the skin of an animal which could resist the action of fire should be considered proof against that element, is not to be wondered at. we accordingly find that a cloth made of the skins of salamanders (for there really is such an animal, a kind of lizard) was incombustible, and very valuable for wrapping up such articles as were too precious to be intrusted to any other envelopes. these fire-proof cloths were actually produced, said to be made of salamander's wool, though the knowing ones detected that the substance of which they were composed was asbestos, a mineral, which is in fine filaments capable of being woven into a flexible cloth. the foundation of the above fables is supposed to be the fact that the salamander really does secrete from the pores of his body a milky juice, which, when he is irritated, is produced in considerable quantity, and would doubtless, for a few moments, defend the body from fire. then it is a hibernating animal, and in winter retires to some hollow tree or other cavity, where it coils itself up and remains in a torpid state till the spring again calls it forth. it may therefore sometimes be carried with the fuel to the fire, and wake up only time enough to put forth all its faculties for its defence. its viscous juice would do good service, and all who profess to have seen it acknowledge that it got out of the fire as fast as its legs could carry it; indeed too fast for them ever to make prize of one, except in one instance, and in that one, the animal's feet and some parts of its body were badly burned. dr. young, in the night thoughts, with more quaintness than good taste, compares the sceptic who can remain unmoved in the contemplation of the starry heavens, to a salamander unwarmed in the fire: "an undevout astronomer is mad! * * * * * * oh, what a genius must inform the skies! and is lorenzo's salamander-heart cold and untouched amid these sacred fires?" chapter xxx eastern mythology zoroaster hindu mythology castes buddha grand lama during the last fifty years new attention has been paid to the systems of religion of the eastern world, especially to that of zoroaster among the persians, and that which is called brahmanism and the rival system known as buddhism in the nations farther east. especial interest belongs to these inquiries for us, because these religions are religions of the great aryan race to which we belong. the people among whom they were introduced all used some dialect of the family of language to which our own belongs. even young readers will take an interest in such books as clarke's great religions and johnson's oriental religions, which are devoted to careful studies of them. our knowledge of the religion of the ancient persians is principally derived from the zendavesta, or sacred books of that people. zoroaster was the founder of their religion, or rather the reformer of the religion which preceded him. the time when he lived is doubtful, but it is certain that his system became the dominant religion of western asia from the time of cyrus ( b.c.) to the conquest of persia by alexander the great. under the macedonian monarchy the doctrines of zoroaster appear to have been considerably corrupted by the introduction of foreign opinions, but they afterwards recovered their ascendancy. zoroaster taught the existence of a supreme being, who created two other mighty beings, and imparted to them so much of his own nature as seemed good to him. of these, ormuzd (called by the greeks oromasdes) remained faithful to his creator, and was regarded as the source of all good, while ahriman (arimanes) rebelled, and became the author of all evil upon the earth. ormuzd created man, and supplied him with all the materials of happiness; but ahriman marred this happiness by introducing evil into the world, and creating savage beasts and poisonous reptiles and plants. in consequence of this, evil and good are now mingled together in every part of the world, and the followers of good and evil the adherents of ormuzd and ahriman carry on incessant war. but this state of things will not last forever. the time will come when the adherents of ormuzd shall everywhere be victorious, and ahriman and his followers be consigned to darkness forever. the religious rites of the ancient persians were exceedingly simple. they used neither temples, altars, nor statues, and performed their sacrifices on the tops of mountains. they adored fire, light, and the sun, as emblems of ormuzd, the source of all light and purity, but did not regard them as independent deities. the religious rites and ceremonies were regulated by the priests, who were called magi. the learning of the magi was connected with astrology and enchantment, in which they were so celebrated that their name was applied to all orders of magicians and enchanters. "as to the age of the books of the zendavesta, and the period at which zoroaster lived, there is the greatest difference of opinion. he is mentioned by plato, who speaks of 'the magic (or religious doctrines) of zoroaster the ormazdian.' as plato speaks of his religion as something established in the form of magism, or the system of the medes in west iran, which the avesta appears to have originated in bactria, or east iran, this already carries the age of zoroaster back to at least the sixth or seventh century before christ. * * * * * * * * * * * * "professor whitney of new haven places the epoch of zoroaster at 'least b.c. ,' and adds that all attempts to reconstruct persian chronology or history prior to the reign of the first sassanid have been relinquished as futile. dollinger thinks he may have been 'somewhat later than moses, perhaps about b.c. ,' but says 'it is impossible to fix precisely' when he lived. rawlinson merely remarks that berosus places him anterior to b.c. . haug is inclined to date the gathas, the oldest songs of the avesta, as early as the time of moses. rapp, after a thorough comparison of ancient writers, concludes that zoroaster lived b.c. or . in this he agrees with duncker, who, as we have seen, decided upon the same date. it is not far from the period given by the oldest greek writer who speaks of zoroaster, xanthus of sardis, a contemporary of darius. it is the period given by cephalion, a writer of the second century, who takes it from three independent sources. we have no sources now open to us which enable us to come nearer than this to the time in which he lived. "nor is anything known with certainty of the place where he lived, or the events of his life. most modern writers suppose that he resided in bactria. haug maintains that the language of the zend books is bactrian. a highly mythological and fabulous life of zoroaster, translated by anquetil du perron, called the zartrisht-namah, describes him as going to iran in his thirtieth year, spending twenty years in the desert, working miracles during ten years, and giving lessons of philosophy in babylon, with pythagoras as his pupil. all this is based on the theory (now proved to be false) of his living in the time of darius. 'the language of the avesta,' says max muller, 'is so much more primitive than the inscriptions of darius, that many centuries must have passed between the two periods represented by these two strata of language. these inscriptions are in the achaemenian dialect, which is the zend in a later stage of linguistic growth.;" j. freeman clarke - ten great religions wordsworth thus alludes to the worship of the persians: "the persian, zealous to reject altar and image, and the inclusive walls and roofs of temples built by human hands, the loftiest heights ascending from their tops, with myrtle-wreathed tiara on his brows, presented sacrifice to moon and stars and to the winds and mother elements, and the whole circle of the heavens, for him a sensitive existence and a god." excursion, book iv in childe harold, byron speaks thus of the persian worship: "not gainly did the early persian make his altar the high places and the peak of earth o'ergazing mountains, and thus take a fit and unwalled temple, there to seek the spirit, in whose honor shrines are weak, upreared of human hands. come and compare columns and idol-dwellings, goth or greek, with nature's realms of worship, earth and air, nor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy prayer." iii., . the religion of zoroaster continued to flourish even after the introduction of christianity, and in the third century was the dominant faith of the east, till the rise of the mahometan power and the conquest of persia by the arabs in the seventh century, who compelled the greater number of the persians to renounce their ancient faith. those who refused to abandon the religion of their ancestors fled to the deserts of kerman and to hindustan, where they still exist under the name of parsees, a name derived from pars, the ancient name of persia. the arabs call them guebers, from an arabic word signifying unbelievers. at bombay the parsees are at this day a very active, intelligent, and wealthy class. for purity of life, honesty, and conciliatory manners, they are favorably distinguished. they have numerous temples to fire, which they adore as the symbol of the divinity. the persian religion makes the subject of the finest tale in moore's lalla rookh, the fire worshippers. the gueber chief says: "yes! i am of that impious race, those slaves of fire, that moan and even hail their creator's dwelling place among the living lights of heaven; yes! i am of that outcast crew to lean and to vengeance true, who curse the hour your arabs came to desecrate our shrines of flame, and swear before god's burning eye, to break our country's chains or die." hindu mythology the religion of the hindus is professedly founded on the vedas. to these books of their scripture they attach the greatest sanctity, and state that brahma himself composed them at the creation. but the present arrangement of the vedas is attributed to the sage vyasa, about five thousand years ago. the vedas undoubtedly teach the belief of one supreme god. the name of this deity is brahma. his attributes are represented by the three personified powers of creation, preservation, and destruction, which, under the respective names of brahma, vishnu, and siva, form the trimurti or triad of principal hindu gods. of the inferior gods the most important are, . indra, the god of heaven, of thunder, lightning, storm, and rain; . agni, the god of fire; . yana, the god of the infernal regions; . surya, the god of the sun. brahma is the creator of the universe, and the source from which all the individual deities have sprung, and into which all will ultimately be absorbed. "as milk changes to curd, and water to ice, so is brahma variously transformed and diversified, without aid of exterior means of any sort. the human soul, according to the vedas, is a portion of the supreme ruler, as a spark is of the fire. "brahma, at first a word meaning prayer and devotion, becomes in the laws of manu the primal god, first-born of the creation, from the self-existent being, in the form of a golden egg. he became the creator of all things by the power of prayer. in the struggle for ascendancy, which took place between the priests and the warriors, brahma naturally became the deity of the former. but, meantime, as we have seen, the worship or vishnu had been extending itself in one region, and that of siva in another. then took place those mysterious wars between the kings of the solar and lunar races, of which the great epics contain all that we know. and at the close of these wars a compromise was apparently accepted, by which brahma, vishnu, and siva were united in one supreme god, as creator, preserver, and destroyer, all in one. it is almost certain that this hindoo triad was the result of an ingenious and successful attempt, on the part of the brahmans, to unite all classes of worshippers in india against the buddhists. in this sense the brahmans edited anew the mahabharata, inserting in that epic passages extolling vishnu in the form of krishna. the greek accounts of india which followed the invasion of alexander speak of the worship of hercules as prevalent in the east, and by hercules they apparently mean the god krishna. the struggle between the brahmans and buddhists lasted during nine centuries (from a.d. to a.d. ), ending with the total expulsion of buddhism and the triumphant establishment of the triad as the worship of india. "before this triad or trimurti (of brahma, vishnu, and siva) there seems to have been another, consisting of agni, indra, and surya. this may have given the hint of the second triad, which distributed among the three gods the attributes or creation, destruction, and renovation. of these brahma, the creator, ceased soon to be popular, and the worship of siva and vishnu as krishna remain as the popular religion of india. . . .. "but all the efforts of brahmanism could not arrest the natural development of the system. it passed on into polytheism and idolatry. the worship of india for many centuries has been divided into a multitude of sects. while the majority of the brahmans still profess to recognize the equal divinity of brahma, vishnu, and siva, the mass of the people worship krishna, rama, the singam, and many other gods and idols. there are hindoo atheists, who revile the vedas; there are the kabirs, who are a sort of hindoo quakers, and oppose all worship; the ramanujas, an ancient sect of vishnu worshippers; the ramavats, living in monasteries; the panthis, who oppose all austerities; the maharajas, whose religion consists with great licentiousness. most of these are worshippers of vishnu or of siva, for brahma- worship has wholly disappeared." j. freeman clarke. ten great religions. vishnu vishnu occupies the second place in the triad of the hindus, and is the personification of the preserving principle. to protect the world in various epochs of danger, vishnu descended to the earth in different incarnations, or bodily forms, which descents are called avatars. they are very numerous, but ten are more particularly specified. the first avatar was as matsya, the fish, under which form vishnu preserved manu, the ancestor of the human race, during a universal deluge. the second avatar was in the form of a tortoise, which form he assumed to support the earth when the gods were churning the sea for the beverage of immortality, amrita. we may omit the other avatars, which were of the same general character, that is, interpositions to protect the right or to punish wrong-doers, and come to the ninth, which is the most celebrated of the avatars of vishnu, in which he appeared in the human form of krishna, an invincible warrior, who by his exploits relieved the earth from the tyrants who oppressed it. buddha is by the followers of the brahmanical religion regarded as a delusive incarnation of vishnu, assumed by him in order to induce the asuras, opponents of the gods, to abandon the sacred ordinances of the vedas, by which means they lost their strength and supremacy. kalki is the name of the tenth avatar, in which vishnu will appear at the end of the present age of the world to destroy all vice and wickedness, and to restore mankind to virtue and purity. siva siva is the third person of the hindu triad. he is the personification of the destroying principle. though the third named, he is, in respect to the number of his worshippers and the extension of his worship, before either of the others. in the puranas (the scriptures of the modern hindu religion) no allusion is made to the original power of this god as a destroyer; as that power is not to be called into exercise till after the expiration of twelve millions of years, or when the universe will come to an end; and mahadeva (another name for siva) is rather the representative of regeneration than of destruction. the worshippers of vishnu and siva form two sects, each of which proclaims the superiority of its favorite deity, denying the claims of the other, and brahma, the creator, having finished his work, seems to be regarded as no longer active, and has now only one temple in india, while mahadeva and vishnu have many. the worshippers of vishnu are generally distinguished by a greater tenderness for life and consequent abstinence from animal food, and a worship less cruel than that of the followers of siva. juggernaut whether the worshippers of juggernaut are to be reckoned among the followers of vishnu or siva, our authorities differ. the temple stands near the shore, about three hundred miles southwest of calcutta. the idol is a carved block of wood, with a hideous face, painted black, and a distended blood-red mouth. on festival days the throne of the image is placed on a tower sixty feet high, moving on wheels. six long ropes are attached to the tower, by which the people draw it along. the priests and their attendants stand round the throne on the tower, and occasionally turn to the worshippers with songs and gestures. while the tower moves along numbers of the devout worshippers throw themselves on the ground, in order to be crushed by the wheels, and the multitude shout in approbation of the act, as a pleasing sacrifice to the idol. every year, particularly at two great festivals in march and july, pilgrims flock in crowds to the temple. not less than seventy or eighty thousand people are said to visit the place on these occasions, when all castes eat together. castes the division of the hindus into classes or castes, with fixed occupations, existed from the earliest times. it is supposed by some to have been founded upon conquest, the first three castes being composed of a foreign race, who subdued the natives of the country and reduced them to an inferior caste. others trace it to the fondness of perpetuating, by descent from father to son, certain offices or occupations. the hindu tradition gives the following account of the origin of the various castes. at the creation brahma resolved to give the earth inhabitants who should be direct emanations from his own body. accordingly from his mouth came forth the eldest born, brahma (the priest), to whom he confided the four vedas; from his right arm issued shatriya (the warrior), and from his left, the warrior's wife. his thighs produced vaissyas, male and female (agriculturists and traders), and lastly from his feet sprang sudras (mechanics and laborers). the four sons of brahma, so significantly brought into the world, became the fathers of the human race, and heads of their respective castes. they were commanded to regard the four vedas as containing all the rules of their faith, and all that was necessary to guide them in their religious ceremonies. they were also commanded to take rank in the order of their birth, the brahmans uppermost, as having sprung from the head of brahma. a strong line of demarcation is drawn between the first three castes and the sudras. the former are allowed to receive instruction from the vedas, which is not permitted to the sudras. the brahmans possess the privilege of teaching the vedas, and were in former times in exclusive possession of all knowledge. though the sovereign of the country was chosen from the shatriya class, also called rajputs, the brahmans possessed the real power, and were the royal counsellors, the judges and magistrates of the country; their persons and property were inviolable; and though they committed the greatest crimes, they could only be banished from the kingdom. they were to be treated by sovereigns with the greatest respect, for "a brahman, whether learned or ignorant, is a powerful divinity." when the brahman arrives at years of maturity it becomes his duty to marry. he ought to be supported by the contributions of the rich, and not to be obliged to gain his subsistence by any laborious or productive occupation. but as all the brahmans could not he maintained by the working classes of the community, it was found necessary to allow them to engage in productive employments. we need say little of the two intermediate classes, whose rank and privileges may be readily inferred from their occupations. the sudras or fourth class are bound to servile attendance on the higher classes, especially the brahmans, but they may follow mechanical occupations and practical arts, as painting and writing, or become traders or husbandmen. consequently they sometimes grow rich, and it will also sometimes happen that brahmans become poor. that fact works its usual consequence, and rich sudras sometimes employ poor brahmans in menial occupations. there is another class lower even than the sudras, for it is not one of the original pure classes, but springs from an unauthorized union of individuals of different castes. these are the pariahs, who are employed in the lowest services and treated with the utmost severity. they are compelled to do what no one else can do without pollution. they are not only considered unclean themselves, but they render unclean every thing they touch. they are deprived of all civil rights, and stigmatized by particular laws, regulating their mode of life, their houses and their furniture. they are not allowed to visit the pagodas or temples of the other castes, but have their own pagodas and religious exercises. they are not suffered to enter the houses of the other castes; if it is done incautiously or from necessity, the place must be purified by religious ceremonies. they must not appear at public markets, and are confined to the use of particular wells, which they are obliged to surround with bones of animals, to warn others against using them. they dwell in miserable hovels, distant from cities and villages, and are under no restrictions in regard to food, which last is not a privilege, but a mark of ignominy, as if they were so degraded that nothing could pollute them. the three higher castes are prohibited entirely the use of flesh. the fourth is allowed to eat all kinds except beef, but only the lowest caste is allowed every kind of food without restrictions. buddha buddha, whom the vedas represent as a delusive incarnation of vishnu, is said by his followers to have been a mortal sage, whose name was gautama, called also by the complimentary epithets of sakyasinha, the lion, and buddha, the sage. by a comparison of the various epochs assigned to his birth, it is inferred that he lived about one thousand years before christ. he was the son of a king; and when in conformity to the usage of the country he was, a few days after his birth, presented before the altar of a deity, the image is said to have inclined its head, as a presage of the future greatness of the new-born prophet. the child soon developed faculties of the first order, and became equally distinguished by the uncommon beauty of his person. no sooner had he grown to years of maturity than he began to reflect deeply on the depravity and misery of mankind, and he conceived the idea of retiring from society and devoting himself to meditation. his father in vain opposed this design. buddha escaped the vigilance of his guards, and having found a secure retreat, lived for six years undisturbed in his devout contemplations. at the expiration of that period he came forward at benares as a religious teacher. at first some who heard him doubted of the soundness of his mind; but his doctrines soon gained credit, and were propagated so rapidly that buddha himself lived to see them spread all over india. the young prince distinguished himself by his personal and intellectual qualities, but still more by his early piety. it appears from the laws of manu that it was not unusual, in the earliest periods of brahmanism, for those seeking a superior piety to turn hermits, and to live alone in the forest, engaged in acts of prayer, meditation, abstinence, and the study of the vedas. this practice, however, seems to have been confined to the brahmans. it was, therefore, a grief to the king, when his son, in the flower of his youth and highly accomplished in every kingly faculty of body and mind, began to turn his thoughts toward the life of an anchorite. * * * * * * * * * * * * he first visited the brahmans, and listened to their doctrines, but found no satisfaction therein. the wisest among them could not teach him true peace, that profound inward rest, which was already called nirvana. he was twenty-nine years old. although disapproving of the brahmanic austerities as an end, he practised them during six years, in order to subdue the senses. he then became satisfied that the path to perfection did not lie that way. he therefore resumed his former diet and a more comfortable mode of life, and so lost many disciples who had been attracted by his amazing austerity. alone in his hermitage, he came at last to that solid conviction, that knowledge never to be shaken, of the laws of things, which had seemed to him the only foundation of a truly free life. the spot where, after a week of constant meditation, he at last arrived at this beatific vision, became one of the most sacred places in india. he was seated under a tree, his face to the east, not having moved for a day and night, when he attained the triple science, which was to rescue mankind from its woes. twelve hundred years after the death of the buddha, a chinese pilgrim was shown what then passed for the sacred tree. * * * * * * * * * * * * having attained this inward certainty of vision, he decided to teach the world his truth. he knew well what it would bring him, what opposition, insult, neglect, scorn. but he thought of three classes of men: those who were already on the way to the truth and did not need him; those who were fixed in error and whom he could not help; and the poor doubters, uncertain of their way. it was to help these last, the doubters, that the buddha went forth to preach. on his way to the holy city of india, benares, a serious difficulty arrested him at the ganges, namely, his having no money to pay the boatman for his passage. at benares he made his first converts, "turning the wheel of the law" for the first time. his discourses are contained in the sacred books of the buddhists. he converted great numbers, his father among the rest, but met with fierce opposition from the hindu scribes and pharisees, the leading brahmans. so he lived and taught, and died at the age of eighty years. the buddhists reject entirely the authority of the vedas, and the religious observances prescribed in them and kept by the hindus. they also reject the distinction of castes, and prohibit all bloody sacrifices, and allow animal food. their priests are chosen from all classes; they are expected to procure their maintenance by perambulation and begging, and, among other things, it is their duty to endeavor to turn to some use things thrown aside as useless by others, and to discover the medicinal power of plants. but in ceylon three orders of priests are recognized; those of the highest order are usually men of high birth and learning, and are supported at the principal temples, most of which have been richly endowed by the former monarchs of the country. for several centuries after the appearance of buddha, his sect seems to have been tolerated by the brahmans, and buddhism appears to have penetrated the peninsula of hindustan in every direction, and to have been carried to ceylon, and to the eastern peninsula. but afterwards it had to endure in india a long continued persecution, which ultimately had the effect of entirely abolishing it in the country where it had originated, but to scatter it widely over adjacent countries. buddhism appears to have been introduced into china about the year of our era. from china it was subsequently extended to corea, japan, and java. the charming poem called the light of asia, by mr. edwin arnold, has lately called general attention to buddhism. the following is an extract from it: "fondly siddatha drew the proud head down patted the shining neck, and said 'be still, white kantaka! be still, and bear me now the farthest journey ever rider rode; for this night take i horse to find the truth, and where my quest will end yet know i not. save that it shall not end until i find. therefore to-night, good steed, be fierce and bold! let nothing stay thee, though a thousand blades deny the road! let neither wall nor moat forbid our flight! look! if i touch thy flank and cry, "on, kantaka!" let whirlwinds lag behind thy course! be fire and air, my horse! to stead thy lord, so shalt thou share with him the greatness of this deed which helps the world; for therefore ride i, not for men alone, but for all things which, speechless, share our pain, and have no hope, nor wit to ask for hope. now, therefore, hear thy master valorously!'" the grand lama it is a doctrine alike of the brahminical hindus and of the buddhist sect that the confinement of the human soul, an emanation of the divine spirit, in a human body, is a state of misery, and the consequence of frailties and sins committed during former existences. but they hold that some few individuals have appeared on this earth from time to time, not under the necessity of terrestrial existence, but who voluntarily descend to the earth to promote the welfare of mankind. these individuals have gradually assumed the character of reappearances of buddha himself, in which capacity the line is continued till the present day in the several lamas of thibet, china, and other countries where buddhism prevails. in consequence of the victories of gengis khan and his successors, the lama residing in thibet was raised to the dignity of chief pontiff of the sect. a separate province was assigned to him as his own territory, and besides his spiritual dignity, he became to a limited extent a temporal monarch. he is styled the dalai lama. the first christian missionaries who proceeded to thibet were surprised to find there in the heart of asia a pontifical court and several other ecclesiastical institutions resembling those of the roman catholic church. they found convents for priests and nuns; also, processions and forms of religious worship, attended with much pomp and splendor; and many were induced by these similarities to consider lamaism as a sort of degenerated christianity. it is not improbable that the lamas derived some of these practices from the nestorial christians, who were settled in tartary when buddhism was introduced into thibet. prester john an early account, communicated probably by travelling merchants, of a lama or spiritual chief among the tartars, seems to have occasioned in europe the report of a presbyter or prester john, a christian pontiff, resident in upper asia. the pope sent a mission in search of him, as did also louis ix of france, some years later, but both missions were unsuccessful, though the small communities of nestorial christians, which they did find, served to keep up the belief in europe that such a personage did exist somewhere in the east. at last in the fifteenth century, a portuguese traveller, pedro covilham, happening to hear that there was a christian prince in the country of the abessines (abyssinia), not far from the red sea, concluded that this must be the true prester john. he accordingly went thither, and penetrated to the court of the king, whom he calls negus. milton alludes to him in paradise lost, book xi, where, describing adam's vision of his descendants in their various nations and cities, scattered over the face of the earth, he says, "---- nor did his eyes not ken the empire of negus, to his utmost port ercoco, and the less maritime kings, mombaza and quiloa and melind." chapter xxxi northern mythology valhalla the valkyrior the stories which have engaged our attention thus far relate to the mythology of southern regions. but there is another branch of ancient superstitions which ought not to be entirely overlooked, especially as it belongs to the nations from which we, through our english ancestors, derive our origin. it is that of the northern nations called scandinavians, who inhabited the countries now known as sweden, denmark, norway, and iceland. these mythological records are contained in two collections called the eddas, of which the oldest is in poetry and dates back to the year , the more modern, or prose edda, being of the date of . according to the eddas there was once no heaven above nor earth beneath, but only a bottomless deep, and a world of mist in which flowed a fountain. twelve rivers issued from this fountain, and when they had flowed far from their source, they froze into ice, and one layer accumulating above another, the great deep was filled up. southward from the world of mist was the world of light. from this flowed a warm wind upon the ice and melted it. the vapors rose in the air and formed clouds, from which sprang ymir, the frost giant and his progeny, and the cow audhumbla, whose milk afforded nourishment and food to the giant. the cow got nourishment by licking the hoar frost and salt from the ice. while she was one day licking the salt stones there appeared at first the hair of a man, on the second day the whole head, and on the third the entire form endowed with beauty, agility, and power. this new being was a god, from whom and his wife, a daughter of the giant race, sprang the three brothers odin, vili, and ve. they slew the giant ymir, and out of his body formed the earth, of his blood the seas, of his bones the mountains, of his hair the trees, of his skull the heavens, and of his brain clouds, charged with hail and snow. of ymir's eyebrows the gods formed midgard (mid earth), destined to become the abode of man. odin then regulated the periods of day and night and the seasons by placing in the heavens the sun and moon, and appointing to them their respective courses. as soon as the sun began to shed its rays upon the earth, it caused the vegetable world to bud and sprout. shortly after the gods had created the world they walked by the side of the sea, pleased with their new work, but found that it was still incomplete, for it was without human beings. they therefore took an ash-tree and made a man out of it, and they made a woman out of an alder, and called the man aske and the woman embla. odin then gave them life and soul, vili reason and motion, and ve bestowed upon them the senses, expressive features, and speech. midgard was then given them as their residence, and they became the progenitors of the human race. the mighty ash-tree ygdrasil was supposed to support the whole universe. it sprang from the body of ymir, and had three immense roots, extending one into asgard (the dwelling of the gods), the other into jotunheim (the abode of the giants), and the third to niffleheim (the regions of darkness and cold). by the side of each of these roots is a spring, from which it is watered. the root that extends into asgard is carefully tended by the three norns, goddesses who are regarded as the dispensers of fate. they are urdur (the past), verdandi (the present), skuld (the future). the spring at the jotunheim side is ymir's well, in which wisdom and wit lie hidden, but that of niffleheim feeds the adder, nidhogge (darkness), which perpetually gnaws at the root. four harts run across the branches of the tree and bite the buds; they represent the four winds. under the tree lies ymir, and when he tries to shake off its weight the earth quakes. asgard is the name of the abode of the gods, access to which is only gained by crossing the bridge, bifrost (the rainbow). asgard consists of golden and silver palaces, the dwellings of the gods, but the most beautiful of these is valhalla, the residence of odin. when seated on his throne he overlooks all heaven and earth. upon his shoulders are the ravens hugin and munin, who fly every day over the whole world, and on their return report to him all they have seen and heard. at his feet lie his two wolves, geri, and freki, to whom odin gives all the meat that is set before him, for he himself stands in no need of food. mead is for him both food and drink. he invented the runic characters, and it is the business of the norns to engrave the runes of fate upon a metal shield. from odin's name, spelt wodin, as it sometimes is, came wednesday, the name of the fourth day of the week. odin is frequently called alfadur (all-father), but this name is sometimes used in a way that shows that the scandinavians had an idea of a deity superior to odin, uncreated and eternal. of the joys of valhalla valhalla is the great hall of odin, wherein he feasts with his chosen heroes, all those who have fallen bravely in battle, for all who die a peaceful death are excluded. the flesh of the boar schrimnir is served up to them, and is abundant for all. for although this boar is cooked every morning, he becomes whole again every night. for drink the heroes are supplied abundantly with mead from the she-goat heidrun. when the heroes are not feasting they amuse themselves with fighting. every day they ride out into the court or field and fight until they cut each other in pieces. this is their pastime; but when meal-time comes, they recover from their wounds and return to feast in valhalla. the valkyrior the valkyrior are warlike virgins, mounted upon horses and armed with helmets, shields, and spears. odin, who is desirous to collect a great many heroes in valhalla, to be able to meet the giants in a day when the final contest must come, sends down to every battle-field to make choice of those who shall be slain. the valkyrior are his messengers, and their name means "choosers of the slain." when they ride forth on their errand their armor shed a strange flickering light, which flashes up over the northern skies, making what men call the "aurora borealis," or "northern lights." (gray's ode, the fatal sisters, is founded on this superstition.) the following is by matthew arnold: "----he crew at dawn a cheerful note, to wake the gods and heroes to their tasks and all the gods and all the heroes woke. and from their beds the heroes rose and donned their arms, and led their horses from the stall, and mounted them, and in valhalla's court were ranged; and then the daily fray began, and all day long they there are hacked and hewn 'mid dust and groans, and limbs lopped off, and blood; but all at night return to odin's hall woundless and fresh; such lot is theirs in heaven. and the valkyries on their steeds went forth toward earth and fights of men; and at their side skulda, the youngest of the nornies, rode; and over bifrost, where is heimdall's watch, past midgard fortress, down to earth they came; there through some battle-field, where men fall fast, their horses fetlock-deep in blood, they ride, and pick the bravest warriors out for death, whom they bring back with them at night to heaven, to glad the gods, and feast in odin's hall." balder dead this description of the funeral of balder is by william morris: "----guest gazed through the cool dusk, till his eyes did rest upon the noble stories, painted fair on the high panelling and roof-boards there; for over the high sea, in his ship, there lay the gold-haired balder, god of the dead day, the spring-flowers round his high pile, waiting there until the gods there to the torch should bear; and they were wrought on this side and on that, drawing on towards him. there was frey, and sat on the gold-bristled boar, who first they say ploughed the brown earth, and made it green for frey; then came dark-bearded niod; and after him freyia, thin-robed, about her ankles slim the grey cats playing. in another place thor's hammer gleamed o'er thor's red-bearded face; and heimdal, with the old horn slung behind, that in the god's dusk he shall surely wind, sickening all hearts with fear; and last of all, was odin's sorrow wrought upon the wall. as slow-paced, weary faced, he went along, anxious with all the tales of woe and wrong his ravens, thought and memory, bring to him." the earthly paradise: the lovers of godrun thor of thor and the other gods thor, the thunderer, odin's eldest son, is the strongest of gods and men, and possesses three very precious things. the first is his hammer, miolnir, which both the frost and the mountain giants know to their cost, when they see it hurled against them in the air, for it has split many a skull of their fathers and kindred. when thrown, it returns to his hand of its own accord. the second rare thing he possesses is called the belt of strength. when he girds it about him his divine might is doubled. the third, also very precious, is his iron gloves, which he puts on whenever he would use his mallet efficiently. from thor's name is derived our word thursday. this description of thor is by longfellow: "i am the god thor, i am the war god, i am the thunderer! here in my northland, my fastness and fortress, reign i forever! "here amid icebergs rule i the nations; this is my hammer, miolner the mighty; giants and sorcerers cannot withstand it! "these are the gauntlets wherewith i wield it, and hurl it afar off; this is my girdle; whenever i brace it strength is redoubled! "the light thou beholdest stream through the heavens, in flashes of crimson, is but my red beard blown by the night wind, affrighting the nations! "jove is my brother; mine eyes are the lightning; the wheels of my chariot roll in the thunder, the blows of my hammer ring in the thunder." tales of a wayside inn frey is one of the most celebrated of the gods. he presides over rain and sunshine and all the fruits of the earth. his sister freya is the most propitious of the goddesses. she loves music, spring, and flowers, and is particularly fond of the elves (fairies). she is very fond of love-ditties, and all lovers would do well to invoke her. bragi is the god of poetry, and his song records the deeds of warriors. his wife, iduna, keeps in a box the apples which the gods, when they feel old age approaching, have only to taste of to become young again. heimdall is the watchman of the gods, and is therefore placed on the borders of heaven to prevent the giants from forcing their way over the bridge bifrost (the rainbow.) he requires less sleep than a bird, and sees by night as well as by day a hundred miles all around him. so acute is his ear that no sound escapes him, for he can even hear the grass grow and the wool on a sheep's back. of loki and his progeny there is another deity who is described as the calumniator of the gods and the contriver of all fraud and mischief. his name is loki. he is handsome and well made, but of a very fickle mood and most evil disposition. he is of the giant race, but forced himself into the company of the gods, and seems to take pleasure in bringing them into difficulties, and in extricating them out of the danger by his cunning, wit, and skill. loki has three children. the first is the wolf fenris, the second the midgard serpent, the third hela (death). the gods were not ignorant that these monsters were growing up, and that they would one day bring much evil upon gods and men. so odin deemed it advisable to send one to bring them to him. when they came he threw the serpent into that deep ocean by which the earth is surrounded. but the monster has grown to such an enormous size that holding his tail in his mouth he encircles the whole earth. hela he cast into niffleheim, and gave her power over nine worlds or regions, into which she distributes those who are sent to her; that is, all who die of sickness or old age. her hall is called elvidnia. hunger is her table, starvation her knife, delay her man, slowness her maid, precipice her threshold, care her bed, and burning-anguish forms the hangings of her apartments. she may easily be recognized for her body is half flesh-color and half blue, and she has a dreadfully stern and forbidding countenance. the wolf fenris gave the gods a great deal of trouble before they succeeded in chaining him. he broke the strongest fetters as if they were made of cobwebs. finally the gods sent a messenger to the mountain spirits, who made for them the chain called gleipnir. it is fashioned of six things, viz., th noise made by the footfall of a cat, the beards of women, the roots of stones, the breath of fishes, the nerves (sensibilities) of bears, and the spittle of birds. when finished it was as smooth and soft as a silken string. but when the gods asked the wolf to suffer himself to be bound with this apparently slight ribbon, he suspected their design, fearing that it was made by enchantment. but tyr (the sword god), to quiet his suspicions, placed his hand in fenris' mouth. then the other gods bound the wolf with gleipnir. but when the wolf found that he could not break his fetters, and that the gods would not release him, he bit off tyr's hand, and he has ever since remained one-handed. how thor paid the mountain giant his wages once on a time, when the gods were constructing their abodes and had already finished midgard and valhalla, a certain artificer came and offered to build them a residence so well fortified that they should be perfectly safe from the incursions of the frost giants and the giants of the mountains. but he demanded for his reward the goddess freya, together with the sun and moon. the gods yielded to his terms provided he would finish the whole work himself without any one's assistance, and all within the space of one winter. but if anything remained unfinished on the first day of summer he should forfeit the recompense agreed on. on being told these terms the artificer stipulated that he should be allowed the use of his horse svadilfari, and this by the advice of loki was granted to him. he accordingly set to work on the first day of winter, and during the night let his horse draw stone for the building. the enormous size of the stones struck the gods with astonishment, and they saw clearly that the horse did one half more of the toilsome work than his mater. their bargain, however, had been concluded, and confirmed by solemn oaths, for without these precautions a giant would not have thought himself safe among the gods, especially when thor should return from an expedition he had then undertaken against the evil demons. as the winter drew to a close, the building was far advanced, and the bulwarks were sufficiently high and massive to render the place impregnable. in short, when it wanted but three days to summer the only part that remained to be finished was the gateway. then sat the gods on their seats of justice and entered into consultation, inquiring of one another who among them could have advised to give freya away, or to plunge the heavens in darkness by permitting the giant to carry away the sun and the moon. they all agreed that no one but loki, the author of so many evil deeds, could have given such bad counsel, and that he should be put to a cruel death if he did not contrive some way to prevent the artificer from completing his task and obtaining the stipulated recompense. they proceeded to lay hands on loki, who in his fright promised upon oath that, let it cost what it would, he would so manage matters that the man should lose his reward. that very night when the man went with svadilfari for building- stone, a mare suddenly ran out of a forest and began to neigh. the horse thereat broke loose and ran after the mare into the forest, which obliged the man also to run after his horse, and thus between one and another the whole night was lost, so that at dawn the work had not made the usual progress. the man, seeing that he must fail of completing his task, resumed his own gigantic stature, and the gods now clearly perceived that it was in reality a mountain giant who had come amongst them. feeling no longer bound by their oaths, they called on thor, who immediately ran to their assistance, and lifting up his mallet, paid the workman his wages, not with the sun and moon, and not even by sending him back to jotunheim, for with the first blow he shattered the giant's skull to pieces and hurled him headlong into niffleheim. the recovery of the hammer once upon a time it happened that thor's hammer fell into the possession of the giant thrym, who buried it eight fathoms deep under the rocks of jotunheim. thor sent loki to negotiate with thrym, but he could only prevail so far as to get the giant's promise to restore the weapon if freya would consent to be his bride. loki returned and reported the result of his mission, but the goddess of love was quite horrified at the idea of bestowing her charms on the king of the frost giants. in this emergency loki persuaded thor to dress himself in freya's clothes and accompany him to jotunheim. thrym received his veiled bride with due courtesy, but was greatly surprised at seeing her eat for her supper eight salmon and a full-grown ox, besides other delicacies, washing the whole down with three tuns of mead. loki, however, assured him that she had not tasted anything for eight long nights, so great was her desire to see her lover, the renowned ruler or jotunheim. thrym had at length the curiosity to peep under his bride's veil, but started back in affright, and demanded why freya's eyeballs glistened with fire. loki repeated the same excuse and the giant was satisfied. he ordered the hammer to be brought in and laid on the maiden's lap. thereupon thor threw off his disguise, grasped his redoubted weapon and slaughtered thrum and all his followers. frey also possessed a wonderful weapon, a sword which would of itself spread a field with carnage whenever the owner desired it. frey parted with this sword, but was less fortunate than thor and never recovered it. it happened in this way: frey once mounted odin's throne, from whence one can see over the whole universe, and looking round saw far off in the giant's kingdom a beautiful maid, at the sight of whom he was struck with sudden sadness, insomuch that from that moment he could neither sleep, nor drink, nor speak. at last skirnir, his messenger, drew his secret from him, and undertook to get him the maiden for his bride, if he would give him his sword as a reward. frey consented and gave him the sword, and skirnir set off on his journey and obtained the maiden's promise that within nine nights she would come to a certain place and there wed frey. skirnir having reported the success of his errand, frey exclaimed, "long is one night, long are two nights, but how shall i hold out three? shorter hath seemed a month to me oft than of this longing time the half." so frey obtained gerda, the most beautiful of all women, for his wife, but he lost his sword. this story, entitled skirnir for, and the one immediately preceding it, thrym's quida, will be found poetically told in longfellow's poets and poetry of europe. chapter xxxii thor's visit to jotunheim one day the god thor, accompanied by his servant thialfi, and also by loki, set out on a journey to the giant's country. thialfi was of all men the swiftest of foot. he bore thor's wallet, containing their provisions. when night came on they found themselves in an immense forest, and searched on all sides for a place where they might pass the night, and at last came to a very large hall, with an entrance that took the whole breadth of one end of the building. here they lay down to sleep, but towards midnight were alarmed by an earthquake which shook the whole edifice. thor rising up called on his companion to seek with him a place of safety. on the right they found an adjoining chamber, into which the others entered, but thor remained at the doorway with his mallet in his hand, prepared to defend himself, whatever might happen. a terrible groaning was heard during the night, and at dawn of day thor went out and found lying near him a huge giant, who slept and snored in the way that had alarmed them so. it is said that for once thor was afraid to use his mallet, and as the giant soon waked up, thor contented himself with simply asking his name. "my name is skrymir," said the giant, "but i need not ask thy name, for i know that thou art the god tor. but what has become of my glove?" thor then perceived that what they had taken overnight for a hall was the giant's glove and the chamber where his two companions had sought refuge was the thumb. skrymir then proposed that they should travel in company, and thor consenting, they sat down to eat their breakfast, and when they had done, skrymir packed all the provisions into one wallet, threw it over his shoulder, and strode on before them, taking such tremendous strides that they were hard put to it to keep up with him. so they travelled the whole day, and at dusk, skrymir close a place for them to pass the night in under a large oak-tree. skrymir then told them he would lie down to sleep. "but take ye the wallet," he added, "and prepare your supper."skrymir soon fell asleep and began to snore strongly, but when thor tried to open the wallet, he found the giant had tied it up so tight he could not untie a single knot. at last thor became wroth, and grasping his mallet with both hands he struck a furious blow on the giant's head. skrymir awakening merely asked whether a leaf had not fallen on his head, and whether they had supped and were ready to go to sleep. thor answered that they were just going to sleep, and so saying went and laid himself down under another tree. but sleep came not that night to thor, and when skrymir snored again so loud that the forest re-echoed with the noise, he arose, and grasping his mallet launched it with such force at the giant's skull that it made a deep dint in it. skrymir awakening cried out, "what's the matter? are there any birds perched on this tree? i felt some moss from the branches fall on my head. how fares it with thee, thor?" but thor went away hastily, saying that he had just then awoke, and that as it was only midnight, there was still time for sleep. he however resolved that if he had an opportunity of striking a third blow, it should settle all matters between them. a little before daybreak he perceived that skrymir was again fast asleep, and again grasping his mallet, he dashed it with such violence that it forced its way into the giant's skull up to the handle. but skrymir sat up, and stroking his cheek, said, "an acorn fell on my head. what! art thou awake, thor? methinks it is time for us to get up and dress ourselves; but you have not now a long way before you to the city called utgard. i have heard you whispering to one another that i am not a man of small dimensions; but if you come to utgard you will see there many men much taller than i. wherefore i advise you, when you come there, not to make too much of yourselves, for the followers of utgard-loki will not brook the boasting of such little fellows as you are. you must take the road that leads eastward, mine lies northward, so we must part here." hereupon he threw his wallet over his shoulders, and turned away from them into the forest, and thor had no wish to stop him or to ask for any more of his company. thor and his companions proceeded on their way, and towards noon descried a city standing in the middle of a plain. it was so lofty that they were obliged to bend their necks quite back on their shoulders in order to see to the top of it. on arriving they entered the city, and seeing a large palace before them with the door wide open, they went in, and found a number of men of prodigious stature, sitting on benches in the hall. going further, they came before the king utgard-loki, whom they saluted with great respect. the king, regarding them with a scornful smile, said, "if i do not mistake me, that stripling yonder must be the god thor." then addressing himself to thor, he said, "perhaps thou mayst be more than thou appearest to be. what are the feats that thou and thy fellows deem yourselves skilled in, for no one is permitted to remain here who does not, in some feat or other, excel all other men?" "the feat that i know," said loki, "is to eat quicker than any one else, and in this i am ready to give a proof against any one here who may choose to compete with me." "that will indeed be a feat," said utgard-loki, "if thou performest what thou promisest, and it shall be tried forthwith." he then ordered one of his men who was sitting at the farther end of the bench, and whose name was logi, to come forward and try his skill with loki. a trough filled with meat having been set on the hall floor, loki placed himself at one end, and logi at the other, and each of them began to eat as fast as he could, until they met in the middle of the trough. but it was found that loki had only eaten the flesh, while his adversary had devoured both flesh and bone, and the trough to boot. all the company therefore adjudged that loki was vanquished. utgard-loki then asked what feat the young man who accompanied thor could perform. thialfi answered that he would run a race with any one who might be matched against him. the king observed that skill in running was something to boast of, but if the youth would win the match he must display great agility. he then arose and went with all who were present to a plain where there was good ground for running on, and calling a young man named hugi, bade him run a match with thialfi. in the first course hugi so much outstripped his competitor that he turned back and met him not far from the starting-place. then they ran a second and a third time, but thialfi met with no better success. utgard-loki then asked thor in what feats he would choose to give proofs of that prowess for which he was so famous. thor answered that he would try a drinking-match with any one. utgard-loki bade his cupbearer bring the large horn which his followers were obliged to empty when they had trespassed in any way against the law of the feast. the cupbearer having presented it to thor, utgard- loki said, "whoever is a good drinker will empty that horn at a single draught, though most men make two of it, but the most puny drinker can do it in three." thor looked at the horn, which seemed of no extraordinary size though somewhat long; however, as he was very thirsty, he set it to his lips, and without drawing breath, pulled as long and as deeply as he could, that he might not be obliged to make a second draught of it; but when he set the horn down and looked in, he could scarcely perceive that the liquor was diminished. after taking breath, thor went to it again with all his might, but when he took the horn from his mouth, it seemed to him that he had drunk rather less than before, although the horn could now be carried without spilling. "how now, thor," said utgard-loki, "thou must not spare thyself; if thou meanest to drain the horn at the third draught thou must pull deeply; and i must needs say that thou wilt not be called so mighty a man here as thou art at home if thou showest no greater prowess in other feats than methinks will be shown in this." thor, full of wrath, again set the horn to his lips, and did his best to empty it; but on looking in found the liquor was only a little lower, so he resolved to make no further attempt, but gave back the horn to the cupbearer. "i now see plainly," said utgard-loki, "that thou art not quite so stout as we thought thee; but wilt thou try any other feat, though methinks thou art not likely to bear any prize away with thee hence." "what new trial hast thou to propose?" said thor. "we have a very trifling game here," answered utgard-loki, "in which we exercise none but children. it consists in merely lifting my cat from the ground; nor should i have dared to mention such a feat to the great thor if i had not already observed that thou art by no means what we took thee for." as he finished speaking, a large gray cat sprang on the hall floor. thor put his hand under the cat's belly and did his utmost to raise him from the floor, but the cat, bending his back, had, notwithstanding all thor's efforts, only one of his feet lifted up, seeing which thor made no further attempt. "this trial has turned out," said utgard-loki, "just as i imagined it would. the cat is large, but thor is little in comparison to our men." "little as ye call me," answered thor, "let me see who among you will come hither now i am in wrath and wrestle with me." "i see no one here," said utgard-loki, looking at the men sitting on the benches, "who would not think it beneath him to wrestle with thee; let somebody, however, call hither that old crone, my nurse elli, and let thor wrestle with her if he will. she has thrown to the ground many a man not less strong than this thor is." a toothless old woman then entered the hall, and was told by utgard-loki to take hold of thor. the tale is shortly told. the more thor tightened his hold on the crone the firmer she stood. at length, after a very violent struggle, thor began to lose his footing, and was finally brought down upon one knee. utgard-loki then told them to desist, adding that thor had now no occasion to ask any one else in the hall to wrestle with him, and it was also getting late; so he showed thor and his companions to their seats, and they passed the night there in good cheer. the next morning at break of day, thor and his companions dressed themselves and prepared for their departure. utgard-loki ordered a table to be set for them, on which there was no lack of victuals or drink. after the repast utgard-loki led them to the gate of the city, and on parting asked thor how he thought his journey had turned out, and whether he had met with any men stronger than himself. thor told him that he could not deny but that he had brought great shame on himself. "and what grieves me most," he added, is that ye will call me a person of little worth." "nay," said utgard-loki, "it behooves me to tell thee the truth, now thou art out of the city, which so long as i live and have my way thou shalt never enter again. and, by my troth, had i known beforehand that thou hadst so much strength in thee, and wouldst have brought me so near to a great mishap, i would not have suffered thee to enter this time. know then that i have all along deceived thee by my illusions; first in the forest where i tied up the wallet with iron wire so that thou couldst not untie it. after this thou gavest me three blows with the mallet; the first, though the least, would have ended my days had it fallen on me, but i slipped aside and thy blows fell on the mountain where thou wilt find three glens, one of them remarkably deep. these are the dints made by thy mallet. i have made use of similar illusions in the contests you have had with my followers. in the first, loki, like hunger itself, devoured all that was set before him, but logi was in reality nothing else than fire, and therefore consumed not only the meat, but the trough which held it. hugi, with whom thialfi contended in running, was thought, and it was impossible for thialfi to keep pace with that. when thou in thy turn didst attempt to empty the horn, thou didst perform, by my troth, a deed so marvellous, that had i not seen it myself, i should never have believed it. for one end of that horn reached the sea, which thou was not aware of, but when thou comest to the shore thou wilt perceive how much the sea has sunk by thy draughts. thou didst perform a feat no less wonderful by lifting up the cat, and to tell thee the truth, when we saw that one of his paws was off the floor, we were all of us terror- stricken, for what thou tookest for a cat was in reality the midgard serpent that encompasseth the earth, and he was so stretched by thee, that he was barely long enough to enclose it between his head and tail. thy wrestling with elli was also a most astonishing feat, for there was never yet a man, nor ever will be, whom old age, for such in fact was elli, will not sooner or later lay low. but now, as we are going to part, let me tell thee that it will be better for both of us if thou never come near me again, for shouldst thou do so, i shall again defend myself by other illusions, so that thou wilt only lose thy labor and get no fame from the contest with me." on hearing these words thor in a rage laid hold of his mallet and would have launched it at him, but utgard-loki had disappeared, and when thor would have returned to the city to destroy it, he found nothing around him but a verdant plain. on another occasion thor was more successful in an encounter with the giants. it happened that thor met with a giant, hrungnir by name, who was disputing with odin as to the merits of their respective horses, gullfaxi and sleipnir, the eight-legged. thor and the giant made an agreement to fight together on a certain day. but as the day approached, the giant, becoming frightened at the thought of encountering thor alone, manufactured, with the assistance of his fellow-giants, a great giant of clay. he was nine miles high and three miles about the chest, and in his heart he had the heart of a mare. accompanied by the clay giant, hrungnir awaited thor on the appointed day. thor approached preceded by thialfi, his servant, who, running ahead, shouted out to hrungnir that it was useless to hold his shield before him, for the god thor would attack him out of the ground. hrungnir at this flung his shield on the ground, and, standing upon it, made ready. as thor approached hrungnir flung at him an immense club of stone. thor flung his hammer. miolnir met the club half way, broke it in pieces, and burying itself in the stone skull of hrungnir, felled him to the ground. meanwhile thialfi had despatched the clay giant with a spade. thor himself received but a slight wound from a fragment of the giant's hammer. chapter xxxiii the death of baldur the elves -- runic letters -- scalds -- iceland baldur, the good, having been tormented with terrible dreams indicating that his life was in peril, told them to the assembled gods, who resolved to conjure all things to avert from him the threatened danger. then frigga, the wife of odin, exacted an oath from fire and water, from iron and all other metals, from stones, trees, diseases, beasts, birds, poisons, and creeping things, that none of them would do any harm to baldur. odin, not satisfied with all this, and feeling alarmed for the fate of his son, determined to consult the prophetess angerbode, a giantess, mother of fenris, hela, and the midgard serpent. she was dead, and odin was forced to seek her in hela's dominions. this descent of odin forms the subject of gray's fine ode beginning, "up rose the king of men with speed and saddled straight his coal-black steed." but the other gods, feeling that what frigga had done was quite sufficient, amused themselves with using baldur as a mark, some hurling darts at him, some stones, while others hewed at him with their swords and battle-axes, for do what they would none of them could harm him. and this became a favorite pastime with them and was regarded as an honor shown to baldur. but when loki beheld the scene he was sorely vexed that baldur was not hurt. assuming, therefore, the shape of a woman, he went to fensalir, the mansion of frigga. that goddess, when she saw the pretended woman, inquired of her if she knew what the gods were doing at their meetings. she replied that they were throwing darts and stones at baldur, without being able to hurt him. "ay," said frigga, "neither stones, nor sticks, nor anything else can hurt baldur, for i have exacted an oath from all of them. " "what," exclaimed the woman, "have all things sworn to spare baldur?" "all things," replied frigga, "except one little shrub that grows on the eastern side of valhalla, and is called mistletoe, and which i thought too young and feeble to crave an oath from." as soon as loki heard this he went away, and resuming his natural shape, cut off the mistletoe, and repaired to the place where the gods were assembled. there he found hodur standing apart, without partaking of the sports, on account of his blindness, and going up to him, said, "why dost thou not also throw something at baldur?" "because i am blind," answered hodur, "and see not where baldur is, and have moreover nothing to throw." "come, then," said loki, "do like the rest and show honor to baldur by throwing this twig at him, and i will direct thy arm towards the place where he stands." hodur then took the mistletoe, and under the guidance of loki, darted it at baldur, who, pierced through and through, fell down lifeless. surely never was there witnessed, either among gods or men, a more atrocious deed than this. when baldur fell, the gods were struck speechless with horror, and then they looked at each other, and all were of one mind to lay hands on him who had done the deed, but they were obliged to delay their vengeance out of respect for the sacred place where they were assembled. they gave vent to their grief by loud lamentations. when the gods came to themselves, frigga asked who among them wished to gain all her love and good will. "for this," said she, "shall he have who will ride to hel and offer hela a ransom if she will let baldur return to asgard." whereupon hermod, surnamed the nimble, the son of odin, offered to undertake the journey. odin's horse, sleipnir, which has eight legs, and can outrun the wind, was then led forth, on which hermod mounted and galloped away on his mission. for the space of nine days and as many nights he rode through deep glens so dark that he could not discern anything until he arrived at the river gyoll, which he passed over on a bridge covered with glittering gold. the maiden who kept the bridge asked him his name and lineage, telling him that the day before five bands of dead persons had ridden over the bridge, and did not shake it as much as he alone. "but," she added, "thou hast not death's hue on thee; why then ridest thou here on the way to hel?" "i ride to hel," answered hermod, "to seek baldur. hast thou perchance seen him pass this way?" she replied, "baldur hath ridden over gyoll's bridge, and yonder lieth the way he took to the abodes of death." hermod pursued his journey until he came to the barred gates of hel. here he alighted, girthed his saddle tighter, and remounting clapped both spurs to his horse, who cleared the gate by a tremendous leap without touching it. hermod then rode on to the palace where he found his brother baldur occupying the most distinguished seat in the hall, and passed the night in his company. the next morning he besought hela to let baldur ride home with him, assuring her that nothing but lamentations were to be heard among the gods. hela answered that it should now be tried whether baldur was so beloved as he was said to be. "if, therefore," she added, "all things in the world, both living and lifeless, weep for him, then shall he return to life; but if any one thing speak against him or refuse to weep, he shall be kept in hel." hermod then rode back to asgard and gave an account of all he had heard and witnessed. the gods upon this despatched messengers throughout the world to beg every thing to weep in order that baldur might be delivered from hel. all things very willingly complied with this request, both men and every other living being, as well as earths, and stones, and trees, and metals, just as we have all seen these things weep when they are brought from a cold place into a hot one. as the messengers were returning, they found an old hag named thaukt sitting in a cavern, and begged her to weep baldur out of hel. but she answered, "thaukt will wail with dry tears baldur's bale-fire. let hela keep her own." it was strongly suspected that this hag was no other than loki himself, who never ceased to work evil among gods and men. so baldur was prevented from coming back to asgard. (in longfellow's poems, vol. , page , will be found a poem entitled tegner's drapa, upon the subject of baldur's death.) among matthew arnold's poems is one called "balder death" beginning thus: "so on the floor lay balder dead; and round lay thickly strewn swords, axes, darts and spears, which all the gods in sport had idly thrown at balder, whom no weapon pierced or clave; but in his breast stood fixt the fatal bough of mistletoe, which lok the accuser gave to hoder, and unwitting hoder threw; "gainst that alone had balder's life no charm. and all the gods and all the heroes came and stood round balder on the bloody floor weeping and wailing; and valhalla rang up to its golden roof with sobs and cries; and on the table stood the untasted meats, and in the horns and gold-rimmed skulls the wine; and now would night have fallen and found them yet wailing; but otherwise was odin's will." the funeral of baldur the gods took up the dead body and bore it to the sea-shore where stood baldur's ship hringham, which passed for the largest in the world. baldur's dead body was put on the funeral pile, on board the ship, and his wife nanna was so struck with grief at the sight that she broke her heart, and her body was burned on the same pile with her husband's. there was a vast concourse of various kinds of people at baldur's obsequies. first came odin accompanied by frigga, the valkyrior, and his ravens; then frey in his car drawn by gullinbursti, the boar; heimdall rode his horse gulltopp, and freya drove in her chariot drawn by cats. there were also a great many frost giants and giants of the mountain present. baldur's horse was led to the pile fully caparisoned and consumed in the same flames with his master. but loki did not escape his deserved punishment. when he saw how angry the gods were, he fled to the mountain, and there built himself a hut with four doors, so that he could see every approaching danger. he invented a net to catch the fishes, such as fishermen have used since his time. but odin found out his hiding-place and the gods assembled to take him. he, seeing this, changed himself into a salmon, and lay hid among the stones of the brook. but the gods took his net and dragged the brook, and loki finding he must be caught, tried to leap over the net; but thor caught him by the tail and compressed it so, that salmons every since have had that part remarkably fine and thin. they bound him with chains and suspended a serpent over his head, whose venom falls upon his face drop by drop. his wife siguna sits by his side and catches the drops as they fall, in a cup; but when she carries it away to empty it, the venom falls upon loki, which makes him howl with horror, and twist his body about so violently that the whole earth shakes, and this produces what men call earthquakes. the elves the edda mentions another class of beings, inferior to the gods, but still possessed of great power; these were called elves. the white spirits, or elves of light, were exceedingly fair, more brilliant than the sun, and clad in garments of delicate and transparent texture. they loved the light, were kindly disposed to mankind, and generally appeared as fair and lovely children. their country was called alfheim, and was the domain of freyr, the god of the sun, in whose light they were always sporting. the black of night elves were a different kind of creatures. ugly, long-nosed dwarfs, of a dirty brown color, they appeared only at night, for they avoided the sun as their most deadly enemy, because whenever his beams fell upon any of them they changed them immediately into stones. their language was the echo of solitudes, and their dwelling-places subterranean caves and clefts. they were supposed to have come into existence as maggots, produced by the decaying flesh of ymir's body, and were afterwards endowed by the gods with a human form and great understanding. they were particularly distinguished for a knowledge of the mysterious powers of nature, and for the runes which they carved and explained. they were the most skilful artificers of all created beings, and worked in metals and in wood. among their most noted works were thor's hammer, and the ship skidbladnir, which they gave to freyr, and which was so large that it could contain all the deities with their war and household implements, but so skilfully was it wrought that when folded together it could be put into a side pocket. ragnabok, the twilight of the gods it was a firm belief of the northern nations that a time would come when all the visible creation, the gods of valhalla and niffleheim, the inhabitants of jotunheim, alfheim, and midgard, together with their habitations, would be destroyed. the fearful day of destruction will not, however, be without its forerunners. first will come a triple winter, during which snow will fall from the four corners of the heavens, the frost be very severe, the wind piercing, the weather tempestuous, and the sun impart no gladness. three such winters will pass away without being tempered by a single summer. three other similar winters will then follow, during which war and discord will spread over the universe. the earth itself will be frightened and begin to tremble, the sea leave its basin, the heavens tear asunder, and men perish in great numbers, and the eagles of the air feast upon their still quivering bodies. the wolf fenris will now break his bands, the midgard serpent rise out of her bed in the sea, and loki, released from his bonds, will join the enemies of the gods. amidst the general devastation the sons of muspelheim will rush forth under their leader surtur, before and behind whom are flames and burning fire. onward they ride over bifrost, the rainbow bridge, which breaks under the horses' hoofs. but they, disregarding its fall, direct their course to the battle-field called vigrid. thither also repair the wolf fenris, the midgard serpent, loki with all the followers of hela, and the frost giants. heimdall now stands up and sounds the giallar horn to assemble the gods and heroes for the contest. the gods advance, led on by odin, who engages the wolf fenris, but falls a victim to the monster, who is, however, slain by vidar, odin's son. thor gains great renown by killing the midgard serpent, but recoils and falls dead, suffocated with the venom which the dying monster vomits over him. loki and heimdall meet and fight till they are both slain. the gods and their enemies having fallen in battle, surtur, who has killed dreyr, darts fire and flames over the world, and the whole universe is burned up. the sun becomes dim, the earth sinks into the ocean, the stars fall from heaven, and time is no more. after this alfadur (the almighty) will cause a new heaven and a new earth to arise out of the sea. the new earth, filled with abundant supplies, will spontaneously produce its fruits without labor or care. wickedness and misery will no more be known, but the gods and men will live happily together. runic letters one cannot travel far in denmark, norway, or sweden, without meeting with great stones, of different forms, engraven with characters called runic, which appear at first sight very different from all we know. the letters consist almost invariably of straight lines, in the shape of little sticks either singly or put together. such sticks were in early times used by the northern nations for the purpose of ascertaining future events. the sticks were shaken up, and from the figures that they formed a kind of divination was derived. the runic characters were of various kinds. they were chiefly used for magical purposes. the noxious, or, as they called them, the bitter runes, were employed to bring various evils on their enemies; the favorable averted misfortune. some were medicinal, others employed to win love, etc. in later times they were frequently used for inscriptions, of which more than a thousand have been found. the language is a dialect of the gothic, called norse, still in use in iceland. the inscriptions may therefore be read with certainty, but hitherto very few have been found which throw the least light on history. they are mostly epitaphs on tombstones. gray's ode on the descent of odin contains an allusion to the use of runic letters for incantation: "facing to the northern clime, thrice he traced the runic rhyme; thrice pronounced, in accents dread, the thrilling verse that wakes the dead, till from out the hollow ground slowly breathed a sullen sound." the skalds the skalds were the bards and poets of the nation, a very important class of men in all communities in an early stage of civilization. they are the depositaries of whatever historic lore there is, and it is their office to mingle something of intellectual gratification with the rude feasts of the warriors, by rehearsing, with such accompaniments of poetry and music as their skill can afford, the exploits of their heroes living or dead. the compositions of the skalds were called sagas, many of which have come down to us, and contain valuable materials of history, and a faithful picture of the state of society at the time to which they relate. iceland the eddas and sagas have come to us from iceland. the following extract from carlyle's lectures on heroes and hero worship gives an animated account of the region where the strange stories we have been reading had their origin. let the reader contrast it for a moment with greece, the parent of classical mythology. "in that strange island, iceland, burst up, the geologists say, by fire from the bottom of the sea, a wild land of barrenness and lava, swallowed many months of every year in black tempests, yet with a wild, gleaming beauty in summer time, towering up there stern and grim in the north ocean, with its snow yokuls (mountains), roaring geysers (boiling springs), sulphur pools, and horrid volcanic chasms, like the vast, chaotic battle-field of frost and fire, where, of all places, we least looked for literature or written memorials, the record of these things was written down. on the seaboard of this wild land is a rim of grassy country, where cattle can subsist, and men by means of them and of what the sea yields; and it seems they were poetic men these, men who had deep thoughts in them and uttered musically their thoughts. much would be lost had iceland not been burst up from the sea, not been discovered by the northmen!" chapter xxxiv the druids iona the druids were the priests or ministers of religion among the ancient celtic nations in gaul, britain, and germany. our information respecting them is borrowed from notices in the greek and roman writers, compared with the remains of welsh and gaelic poetry still extant. the druids combined the functions of the priest, the magistrate, the scholar, and the physician. they stood to the people of the celtic tribes in a relation closely analogous to that in which the brahmans of india, the magi of persia, and the priests of the egyptians stood to the people respectively by whom they were revered. the druids taught the existence of one god, to whom they gave a name "be'al," which celtic antiquaries tell us means "the life of everything," or "the source of all beings,:" and which seems to have affinity with the phoenician baal. what renders this affinity more striking is that the druids as well as the phoenicians identified this, their supreme deity, with the sun. fire was regarded as a symbol of the divinity. the latin writers assert that the druids also worshipped numerous inferior gods. they used no images to represent the object of their worship, nor did they meet in temples or buildings of any kind for the performance of their sacred rites. a circle of stones (each stone generally of vast size) enclosing an area of from twenty feet to thirty yards in diameter, constituted their sacred place. the most celebrated of these now remaining is stonehenge, on salisbury plain, england. these sacred circles were generally situated near some stream, or under the shadow of a grove or wide-spreading oak. in the centre of the circle stood the cromlech or altar, which was a large stone, placed in the manner of a table upon other stones set up on end. the druids had also their high places, which were large stones or piles of stones on the summits of hills. these were called cairns, and were used in the worship of the deity under the symbol of the sun. that the druids offered sacrifices to their deity there can be no doubt. but there is some uncertainty as to what they offered, and of the ceremonies connected with their religious services we know almost nothing. the classical (roman) writers affirm that they offered on great occasions human sacrifices; as for success in war or for relief from dangerous diseases. caesar has given a detailed account of the manner in which this was done. "they have images of immense size, the limbs of which are framed with twisted twigs and filled with living persons. these being set on fire, those within are encompassed by the flames." many attempts have been made by celtic writers to shake the testimony of the roman historians to this fact, but without success. the druids observed two festivals in each year. the former took place in the beginning of may, and was called beltane or "fire of god." on this occasion a large fire was kindled on some elevated spot, in honor of the sun, whose returning beneficence they thus welcomed after the gloom and desolation of winter. of this custom a trace remains in the name given to whitsunday in parts of scotland to this day. sir walter scott uses the word in the boat song in the lady of the lake: "ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain, blooming at beltane in winter to fade." the other great festival of the druids was called "samh'in," or "fire of peace," and was held on hallow-eve (first of november), which still retains this designation in the highlands of scotland. on this occasion the druids assembled in solemn conclave, in the most central part of the district, to discharge the judicial functions of their order. all questions, whether public or private, all crimes against person or property, were at this time brought before them for adjudication. with these judicial acts were combined certain superstitious usages, especially the kindling of the sacred fire, from which all the fires in the district which had been beforehand scrupulously extinguished, might be relighted. this usage of kindling fires on hallow-eve lingered in the british islands long after the establishment of christianity. besides these two great annual festivals, the druids were in the habit of observing the full moon, and especially the sixth day of the moon. on the latter they sought the mistletoe, which grew on their favorite oaks, and to which, as well as to the oak itself, they ascribed a peculiar virtue and sacredness. the discovery of it was an occasion of rejoicing and solemn worship. "they call it," says pliny, "by a word in their language which means 'heal- all,' and having made solemn preparation for feasting and sacrifice under the tree, they drive thither two milk-white bulls, whose horns are then for the first time bound. the priest then, robed in white, ascends the tree, and cuts off the mistletoe with a golden sickle. it is caught in a white mantle, after which they proceed to slay the victims, at the same time praying that god would render his gift prosperous to those to whom he had given it. they drink the water in which it has been infused, and think it a remedy for all diseases. the mistletoe is a parasitic plant, and is not always nor often found on the oak, so that when it is found it is the more precious." the druids were the teachers of morality as well as of religion. of their ethical teaching a valuable specimen is preserved in the triads of the welsh bards, and from this we may gather that their views of moral rectitude were on the whole just, and that they held and inculcated many very noble and valuable principles of conduct. they were also the men of science and learning of their age and people. whether they were acquainted with letters or not has been disputed, though the probability is strong that they were, to some extent. but it is certain that they committed nothing of their doctrine, their history, or their poetry to writing. their teaching was oral, and their literature (if such a word may be used in such a case) was preserved solely by tradition. but the roman writers admit that "they paid much attention to the order and laws of nature, and investigated and taught to the youth under their charge many things concerning the stars and their motions, the size of the world and the lands , and concerning the might and power of the immortal gods." their history consisted in traditional tales, in which the heroic deeds of their forefathers were celebrated. these were apparently in verse, and thus constituted part of the poetry as well as the history of the druids. in the poems of ossian we have, if not the actual productions of druidical times, what may be considered faithful representations of the songs of the bards. the bards were an essential part of the druidical hierarchy. one author, pennant, says, "the bards were supposed to be endowed with powers equal to inspiration. they were the oral historians of all past transactions, public and private. they were also accomplished genealogists." pennant gives a minute account of the eisteddfods or sessions of the bards and minstrels, which were held in wales for many centuries, long after the druidical priesthood in its other departments became extinct. at these meetings none but bards of merit were suffered to rehearse their pieces, and minstrels of skill to perform. judges were appointed to decide on their respective abilities, and suitable degrees were conferred. in the earlier period the judges were appointed by the welsh princes, and after the conquest of wales, by commission from the kings of england. yet the tradition is that edward i., in revenge for the influence of the bards, in animating the resistance of the people to his sway, persecuted them with great cruelty. this tradition has furnished the poet gray with the subject of his celebrated ode, the bard. there are still occasional meetings of the lovers of welsh poetry and music, held under the ancient name. among mrs. heman's poems is one written for an eisteddfod, or meeting of welsh bards, held in london may , . it begins with a description of the ancient meeting, of which the following lines are a part: "---- midst the eternal cliffs, whose strength defied the crested roman in his hour of pride; and where the druid's ancient cromlech frowned, and the oaks breathed mysterious murmurs round, there thronged the inspired of yore! on plain or height, in the sun's face, beneath the eye of light, and baring unto heaven each noble head, stood in the circle, where none else might tread." the druidical system was at its height at the time of the roman invasion under julius caesar. against the druids, as their chief enemies, these conquerors of the world directed their unsparing fury. the druids, harassed at all points on the main-land, retreated to anglesey and iona, where for a season they found shelter, and continued their now-dishonored rites. the druids retained their predominance in iona and over the adjacent islands and main-land until they were supplanted and their superstitions overturned by the arrival of st. columba, the apostle of the highlands, by whom the inhabitants of that district were first led to profess christianity. iona one of the smallest of the british isles, situated near a ragged and barren coast, surrounded by dangerous seas, and possessing no sources of internal wealth, iona has obtained an imperishable place in history as the seat of civilization and religion at a time when the darkness of heathenism hung over almost the whole of northern europe. iona or icolmkill is situated at the extremity of the island of mull, from which it is separated by a strait of half a mile in breadth, its distance from the main-land of scotland being thirty-six miles. columba was a native of ireland, and connected by birth with the princes of the land. ireland was at that time a land of gospel light, while the western and northern parts of scotland were still immersed in the darkness of heathenism. columba, with twelve friends landed on the island of iona in the year of our lord , having made the passage in a wicker boat covered with hides. the druids who occupied the island endeavored to prevent his settling there, and the savage nations on the adjoining shores incommoded him with their hostility, and on several occasions endangered his life by their attacks. yet by his perseverance and zeal he surmounted all opposition, procured from the king a gift of the island, and established there a monastery of which he was the abbot. he was unwearied in his labors to disseminate a knowledge of the scriptures throughout the highlands and islands of scotland, and such was the reverence paid him that though not a bishop, but merely a presbyter and monk, the entire province with its bishops was subject to him and his successors. the pictish monarch was so impressed with a sense of his wisdom and worth that he held him in the highest honor, and the neighboring chiefs and princes sought his counsel and availed themselves of his judgment in settling their disputes. when columba landed on iona he was attended by twelve followers whom he had formed into a religious body, of which he was the head. to these, as occasion required, others were from time to time added, so that the original number was always kept up. their institution was called a monastery, and the superior an abbot, but the system had little in common with the monastic institutions of later times. the name by which those who submitted to the rule were known was that of culdees, probably from the latin "cultores dei" worshippers of god. they were a body of religious persons associated together for the purpose of aiding each other in the common work of preaching the gospel and teaching youth, as well as maintaining in themselves the fervor of devotion by united exercises of worship. on entering the order certain vows were taken by the members, but they were not those which were usually imposed by monastic orders, for of these, which are three, celibacy, poverty, and obedience, the culdees were bound to none except the third. to poverty they did not bind themselves; on the contrary, they seem to have labored diligently to procure for themselves and those dependent on them the comforts of life. marriage also was allowed them, and most of them seem to have entered into that state. true, their wives were not permitted to reside with them at the institution, but they had a residence assigned to them in an adjacent locality. near iona there is an island which still bears the name of "eilen nam ban," women's island, where their husbands seem to have resided with them, except when duty required their presence in the school or the sanctuary. campbell, in his poem of reullura, alludes to the married monks of iona: "----the pure culdees were albyn's earliest priests of god, ere yet an island of her seas by foot of saxon monk was trod, long ere her churchmen by bigotry were barred from holy wedlock's tie. 'twas then that aodh, famed afar, in iona preached the word with power. and reullura, beauty's star, was the partner of his bower." in one of his irish melodies, moore gives the legend of st. senanus and the lady who sought shelter on the island, but was repulsed: "oh, haste and leave this sacred isle, unholy bark, ere morning smile; for on thy deck, though dark it be, a female form i see; and i have sworn this sainted sod shall ne'er by woman's foot be trod. in these respects and in others the culdees departed from the established rules of the romish church, and consequently were deemed heretical. the consequence was that as the power of the latter advanced, that of the culdees was enfeebled. it was not, however, till the thirteenth century that the communities of the culdees were suppressed and the members dispersed. they still continued to labor as individuals, and resisted the inroads of papa usurpation as they best might till the light of the reformation dawned on the world. ionia, from its position in the western seas, was exposed to the assaults of the norwegian and danish rovers by whom those seas were infested, and by them it was repeatedly pillaged, its dwellings burned, and its peaceful inhabitants put to the sword. these unfavorable circumstances led to its gradual decline, which was expedited by the supervision of the culdees throughout scotland. under the reign of popery the island became the seat of a nunnery, the ruins of which are still seen. at the reformation, the nuns were allowed to remain, living in community, when the abbey was dismantled. ionia is now chiefly resorted to by travellers on account of the numerous ecclesiastical and sepulchral remains which are found upon it. the principal of these are the cathedral or abbey church, and the chapel of the nunnery. besides these remains of ecclesiastical antiquity, there are some of an earlier date, and pointing to the existence on the island of forms of worship and belief different from those of christianity. these are the circular cairns which are found in various parts, and which seem to have been of druidical origin. it is in reference to all these remains of ancient religion that johnson exclaims, "that man is little to be envied whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plains of marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer amid the ruins of iona." in the lord of the isles, scott beautifully contrasts the church on iona with the cave of staffa, opposite: "nature herself, it seemed, would raise a minister to her maker's praise! not for a meaner use ascend her columns or her arches bend; nor of a theme less solemn tells the mighty surge that ebbs and swells, and still between each awful pause, from the high vault an answer draws, in varied tone, prolonged and high, that mocks the organ's melody; nor doth its entrance front in vain to old iona's holy fane, that nature's voice might seem to say, well hast thou done, frail child of clay, thy humble powers that stately shrine tasked high and hard but witness mine." sketch of the history of greek sculpture we have seen throughout the course of this book how the greek and norse myths have furnished material for the poets, not only of greece and scandinavia, but also of modern times. in the same way these stories have been found capable of artistic treatment by painters, sculptors, and even by musicians. the story of cupid and psyche has not only been retold by poets from apuleius to william morris, but also drawn out in a series of frescoes by raphael, and sculptured in marble by canova. even to enumerate the works of art of the modern and ancient world which depend for their subject-matter upon mythology would be a task for a book by itself. as we have been able to give only a few illustrations of the poetic treatment of some of the principal myths, so we shall have to content ourselves with a similarly limited view of the part played by them in other fields of art. of the statues made by the ancients themselves to represent their greater deities, a few have been already commented on. but it must not be thought that these splendid examples of plastic art, the olympian jupiter and the athene of the parthenon, represent the earliest attempts of the greeks to give form to their myths in sculpture. our most primitive sources of knowledge of much of greek mythology are the homeric poems, where the stories of achilles and ulysses have already taken on a poetic form, almost the highest conceivable. but in the other arts, greek genius lagged behind. at the time when the homeric poems were written, we find no traces of columned temples or magnificent statues. scarcely were the domestic arts sufficiently advanced to allow the poet to describe dwellings glorious enough for his heroes to live in, or articles of common utility fit for their use. of the two most famous works of art mentioned in the iliad we must think of the statue of athene at troy (the palladium) as a rude carving perhaps of wood, the arms of the goddess separated from the body only enough to allow her to hold the lance and spindle, which were the signs of her divinity. the splendor of the shield of achilles must be attributed largely to the rich imagination of the poet. other works of art of this primitive age we know from descriptions in later classical writers. they attributed the rude statues which had come down to them to daedalus and his pupils, and beheld them with wonder at their uncouth ugliness. it was long thought that these beginnings of greek sculpture were to be traced to egypt, but now-a-days scholars are inclined to take a different view. egyptian sculpture was closely allied to architecture; the statues were frequently used for the columns of temples. thus sculpture was subordinated to purely mechanical principles, and human figures were represented altogether in accordance with established conventions. greek sculpture, on the contrary, even in its primitive forms was eminently natural, capable of developing a high degree of realism. from the first it was decorative in character, and this left the artist free to execute in his own way, provided only that the result should be in accordance with the highest type of beauty which he could conceive. an example of this early decorative art was the chest of kypselos, on which stories from homer were depicted in successive bands, the reliefs being partly inlaid with gold and ivory. from the sixth century before christ date three processes of great importance in the development of sculpture; the art of casting in bronze, the chiselling of marble, and the inlaying of gold and ivory on wood (chryselephantine work). as early greek literature developed first among the island greeks, so the invention of these three methods of art must br attributed to the colonists away from the original hellas. to the samians is probably due the invention of bronze casting, to the chians the beginning of sculpture in marble. this latter development opened to greek sculpture its great future. marble work was carried on by a race of artists beginning with melas in the seventh century and coming down to boupalos and athenis, the sons of achermos, whose works survived to the time of augustus. chryselephantine sculpture began in crete. among the earliest of the greek sculptors whose names have come down to us was canachos, the sicyonian. his masterpiece was the apollo philesios, in bronze, made for the temple of didymas. the statue no longer exists, but there are a number of ancient monuments which may be taken as fairly close copies of it, or at least as strongly suggestive of the style of canachos, among which are the payne-knight apollo at the british museum, and the piombino apollo at the louvre. in this latter statue the god stands erect with the left foot slightly advanced, and the hands outstretched. the socket of the eye is hollow and was probably filled with some bright substance. canachos was undoubtedly an innovator, and in the stronger modelling of the head and neck, the more vigorous posture of the body of his statue, he shows an advance on the more conventional and limited art of his generation. as greek sculpture progressed, schools of artists arose in various cities, dependent usually for their fame on the ability of some individual sculptor. "among these schools, those of aegina and athens are the most important. of the former school the works of onatus are by far the most notable. onatus was a contemporary of canachos, and reached the height of his fame in the middle of the fifth century before christ. his most famous work was the scene where the greek heroes draw lots for an opponent to hector. it is not certain whether onatus sculptured the groups which adorned the pediments of the temple of athena at aegina, groups now in the glyptothek at munich, but certainly these famous statues are decidedly in his style. both pediments represent the battle over the body of patroclus. the east pediment shows the struggle between heracles and laomedon. in each group a fallen warrior lies at the feet of the goddess, over whom she extends her protection. the aeginetan marbles show the traces of dying archaism. the figures of the warriors are strongly moulded, muscular, but without grace. the same type is reproduced again and again among them. even the wounded scarcely depart from it. the statues of the eastern pediment are probably later in date than those of the western, and in the former the dying warrior exhibits actual weakness and pain. in the western pediment the statue of the goddess is thoroughly archaic, stiff, uncompromisingly harsh, the features frozen into a conventional smile. in the eastern group the goddess, though still ungraceful, is more distinctly in action, and seems about to take part in the struggle. the heracles of the eastern pediment, a warrior supported on one knee and drawing his bow, is, for the time, wonderfully vivid and strong. all of these statues are evidence of the rapid progress which greek sculpture was making in the fifth century against the demands of hieratic conventionality. the contemporary athenian school boasted the names of hegias, critios, and nesiotes. their works have all perished, but a copy of one of the most famous works of critios and nesiotes, the statue of the tyrannicides, is to be found in the museum of naples. harmodius and aristogeiton killed, in b.c., the tyrant-ruler of athens, hipparchus. in consequence of this athens soon became a republic, and the names of the first rebels were held in great honor. their statues were set up on the acropolis, first a group by antenor, then the group in question by critios and nesiotes after the first had been carried away by xerxes. the heroes, as we learn from the copies in naples, were represented as rushing forward, one with a naked sword flashing above his head, the other with a mantle for defence thrown over his left arm. they differ in every detail of action and pose, yet they exemplify the same emotion, a common impulse to perform the same deed. at argus, contemporary with these early schools of athens and aegina, was a school of artists depending on the fame of the great sculptor ageladas. he was distinguished for his statues in bronze of zeus and heracles, but his great distinction is not through works of his own, but is due to the fact that he was the teacher of myron, polycleitos, and pheidias. these names with those of pythagoras and calamis bring us to the glorious flowering time of greek sculpture. calamis, somewhat older than the others, was an athenian, at least by residence. he carried on the measure of perfection which athenian sculpture had already attained, and added grace and charm to the already powerful model which earlier workers had left him. none of his works survive, but from notices of critics we know that he excelled especially in modelling horses and other animals. his two race-horses in memory of the victory of hiero of syracuse at olympia in were considered unsurpassable. however, it is related that praxiteles removed the charioteer from one of the groups of calamis and replaced it by one of his own statues "that the men of calamis might not be inferior to his horses." thus it would appear that calamis was less successful in dealing with the human body, though a statue of aphrodite from his hand was proverbial, under the name sosandra, for its grace and grave beauty. pythagoras of rhegium carried on the realism, truth to nature, which was beginning to appear as an ideal of artistic representation. he is said to have been the first sculptor to mark the veins and sinews on the body. in this vivid naturalness pythagoras was himself far surpassed by myron. pythagoras had seen the importance of showing the effect of action in every portion of the body. myron carried the minuteness of representation so far that his statue of ladas, the runner, was spoken of not as a runner, but as a breather. this statue represented the victor of the foot-race falling, overstrained and dying, at the goal, the last breath from the tired lungs yet hovering upon the lips. more famous than the ladas is the discobolos , or disc-thrower, of which copies exist at rome, one being at the vatican, the other at the palazzo massimi alle colonne. these, though doubtless far behind the original, serve to show the marvellous power of portraying intense action which the sculptor possessed. the athlete is represented at the precise instant when he has brought the greatest possible bodily strength into play in order to give to the disc its highest force. the body is bent forward, the toes of one foot cling to the ground, the muscles of the torso are strained, the whole body is in an attitude of violent tension which can endure only for an instant. yet the face is free from contortion, free from any trace of effort, calm and beautiful. this shows that myron, intent as he was upon reproducing nature, could yet depart from his realistic formulae when the requirements of beautiful art demanded it. the same delight in rapid momentary action which characterized the two statues of myron already mentioned appears in a third, the statue of marsyas astonished at the flute which athene had thrown away, and which was to lead its finder into his fatal contest with apollo. a copy of this work at the lateran museum represents the satyr starting back in a rapid mingling of desire and fear, which is stamped on his heavy face, as well as indicated in the movement of his body. myron's realism again found expression in the bronze cow, celebrated by the epigrams of contemporary poets for its striking naturalness. "shepherd, pasture thy flock at a little distance, lest thinking thou seest the cow of myron breathe, thou shouldst wish to lead it away with thine oxen," was one of them. the value and originality of myron's contributions to the progress of greek sculpture were so great that he left behind him a considerable number of artists devoted to his methods. his son lykios followed his father closely. in statues on the acropolis representing two boys, one bearing a basin, one blowing the coals in a censer into a flame, he reminds one of the ladas, especially in the second, where the action of breathing is exemplified in every movement of the body. another famous work by a follower of myron was the boy plucking a thorn from his foot, a copy of which is in the rothschild collection. the frieze of the temple of apollo at phigales has also been attributed to the school of myron. the remnants of this frieze, now in the british museum, show the battle of the centaurs and amazons. the figures have not the calm stateliness of bearing which characterizes those of the parthenon frieze, but instead exhibit a wild vehemence of action which is, perhaps, directly due to the influence of myron. another pupil of ageladas, a somewhat younger contemporary of pheidias, was polycleitos. he excelled in representations of human, bodily beauty. perfection of form was his aim, and so nearly did he seem to the ancients to have attained this object that his doryphoros was taken by them as a model of the human figure. a copy of this statue exists in the museum of naples and represents a youth in the attitude of bearing a lance, quiet and reserved. the figure is rather heavily built, firm, powerful, and yet graceful, though hardly light enough to justify the praise of perfection which has been lavished upon it. a companion statue to the doryphorus of polycleitos was his statue of the diadumenos, or boy binding his head with a fillet. a supposed copy of this exists in the british museum. it presents the same general characteristics as the doryphorus, a well-modelled but thick-set figure standing in an attitude of repose. what polycleitos did for the male form in these two statues he did for the female form in his amazon, which, according to a doubtful story, was adjudged in competition superior to a work by pheidias. a statue supposed to be a copy of this masterpiece of polycleitos is now in the berlin museum. it represents a woman standing in a graceful attitude beside a pillar, her left arm thrown above her head to free her wounded breast. the sculptor has succeeded admirably in catching the muscular force and firm hard flesh beneath the graceful curves of the woman warrior. polycleitos won his chief successes in portraying human figures. his statues of divinities are not numerous: a zeus at argos, an aphrodite at amyclae, and, more famous than either, the chryselephantine hera for a temple between argos and mycenae. the goddess was represented as seated on a throne of gold, with bare head and arms. in her right hand was the sceptre crowned with the cuckoo, symbol of conjugal fidelity; in her left, the pomegranate. there exists no certain copy of the hera of polycleitos. the head of hera in naples may, perhaps, give us some idea of the type of divine beauty preferred by the sculptor who was preeminent for his devotion to human beauty. polycleitos was much praised by the romans quintilian and cicero, who nevertheless, held that though he surpassed the beauty of man in nature, yet he did not approach the beauty of the gods. it was reserved for pheidias to portray the highest conceptions of divinity of which the greek mind was capable in his statues of athene in the parthenon at athens, and the zeus of olympus. pheidias lived in the golden age of athenian art. the victory of greece against persia had been due in large measure to athens, and the results of the political success fell largely to her. it is true the persians had held the ground of athens for weeks, and when, after the victory of salamis, the people returned to their city, they found it in ruins. but the spirit of the athenians had been stirred, and in spite of the hostility of persia, the jealousy of neighboring states, and the ruin of the city, the people felt new confidence in themselves and their divinity, and were more than ever ready to strive for the leadership of greece. religious feeling, gratitude to the gods who had preserved them, and civic pride in the glory of their own victorious city, all inspired the athenians. after the winter in which the persians were finally beaten at plataea, the athenians began to rebuild. for a while their efforts were confined to rendering the city habitable and defensible, since the activity of the little state was largely political. but when th leadership of athens in greece had become firmly established under theistocles and cimon, the third president of the democracy, pericles, found leisure to turn to the artistic development of the city. the time was ripe, for the artistic progress of the people had been no less marked than their political. the same long training in valor and temperance which gave athens her statesmen, aristides and pericles, gave her her artists and poets also. pericles became president of the city in b.c., just at the time when the decorative arts were approaching perfection under pheidias. pheidias was an athenian by birth, the son of charmides. he studied first under hegias, then under ageladas the argive. he became the most famous sculptor of his time, and when pericles wanted a director for his great monumental works at athens, he summoned pheidias. artists from all over hellas put themselves at his disposal, and under his direction the parthenon was built and adorned with the most splendid statuary the world has ever known. the parthenon was fashioned in honor of athene or minerva, the guardian deity of athens, the preserver of hellas, whom the athenians in their gratitude sought to make the sovereign goddess of the land which she had saved. the eastern gable of the temple was adorned with a group representing the appearance of minerva before the gods of olympus. in the left angle of the gable appeared helios, the dawn, rising from the sea. in the right angle selene, evening, sank from sight. next to helios was a figure representing either dionysus or olympus, and beside were seated two figures, perhaps persephone and demeter, perhaps two horae. approaching these as a messenger was iris. balancing these figures on the side next selene were two figures, representing aphrodite in the arms of peitho, or perhaps thalassa, goddess of the sea, leaning against gaia, the earth. nearer the centre on this side was hestia, to whom hermes brought the tidings. the central group is totally lost, but must have been made up of zeus, athene, and vulcan, with, perhaps, others of the greater divinities. the group of the western pediment represented athene and poseidon, contesting for the supremacy of athens. athene's chariot is driven by victory, poseidon's by amphitrite. although the greater part of the attendant deities have disappeared, we know the gods of the rivers of athens, eridanas and ilissos, in reclining postures filled the corners of the pediment. one of these has survived, and remains in its perfection of grace and immortal beauty to attest the wonderful skill that directed the chiselling of the whole group. although the gable groups have suffered terribly in the historic vicissitudes of the parthenon, still enough remains of them to show the dignity of their conception, the rhythm of composition, and the splendid freedom of their workmanship. the fragments were purchased by lord elgin early in this century and are now in the british museum. the frieze of the parthenon, executed under the supervision of pheidias, represented one of the most glorious religious ceremonies of the greek, the pan-athenaic procession. the deities surround zeus as spectators of the scene, and toward them winds the long line of virgins bearing incense, herds of animals for sacrifice, players upon the lute and lyre, chariots and riders. on the western front the movement has not yet begun, and the youths and men stand in disorder, some binding their mantles, some mounting their horses. the frieze is noteworthy for its expression of physical and intellectual beauty which marked the highest conceptions of greek art, and for the studied mingling of forcible action and gracious repose. the larger part of this frieze has been preserved and is to be seen at the british museum. the third group of parthenon sculptures, the ornaments of the metope, represents the contest between centaurs and the lapithae with some scenes interspersed of which the subjects cannot now be determined. the frieze is in low relief, the figures scarcely starting from the background. the sculptures of the metope, on the contrary, are in high relief, frequently giving the impression of marbles detached from the background altogether. they were, moreover, colored. or course, pheidias himself cannot have had more than the share of general director in the sculptures of the metope; many of them are manifestly executed by inferior hands. nevertheless, the mind of a great designer is evident in the wonderful variety of posture and action which the figures show. indeed, when we consider the immense number of figures employed, it becomes evident that not even all the sculptures of the pediments can have been executed entirely by pheidias, who was already probably well advanced in life when he began the parthenon decorations; yet all the sculptures were the work of pheidias or of pupils working under him, and although traces may be found of the influence of other artists, of myron, for example, in the freedom and naturalness of the action in the figures of the frieze, yet all the decorations of the parthenon may fairly be said to belong to the pheidian school of sculpture. the fame of pheidias himself, however, rested very largely on three great pieces of art work: the athene promachos, the athene parthenos, and the olympian zeus. the first of these was a work of pheidias's youth. it represented the goddess standing gazing toward athens lovingly and protectingly. she held a spear in one hand, the other supported a buckler. the statue was nine feet high. it was dignified and noble, but at the time of its conception pheidias had not freed himself from the convention and traditions of the earlier school, and the stiff folds of the tunic, the cold demeanor of the goddess, recall the masters whom pheidias was destined to supersede. no copy of this statue survives, and hence a description of it must be largely conjectural, made up from hints gleaned from athenian coins. pheidias sculptured other statues of athene, but none so wonderful as the athene parthenos, which, with the olympian zeus, was the wonder and admiration of the greek world. the athene parthenos was designed to stand as an outward symbol of the divinity in whose protecting might the city had conquered and grown strong, in whose honor the temple had been built in which this statue was to shine as queen. the olympian zeus was the representative of that greater divinity which all hellas united in honoring. we may gain from the words of pausanias some idea of the magnificence of this statue, but of its unutterable majesty we can only form faint images in the mind, remembering the strength and grace of the figures of the pediments of the temple at athens. "zeus," says pausanias, "is seated on a throne of ivory and gold; upon his head is laced a garland made in imitation of olive leaves. he bears a victory in his right hand, also crowned and made in gold and ivory, and holding in her right hand a little fillet. in his left hand the god holds a sceptre, made of all kinds of metals; the bird perched on the tip of the sceptre is an eagle. the shoes of zeus are also of gold, and of gold his mantle, and underneath this mantle are figures and lilies inlaid." both the olympian zeus and the athene were of chryselephantine work offering enormous technical difficulties, but in spite of this both showed almost absolute perfection of form united with beauty of intellectual character to represent the godhead incarnate in human substance. these two statues may be taken as the noblest creations of the greek imagination when directed to the highest objects of its contemplation. the beauty of the olympian zeus, according to quintilian, "added a new element to religion." in the works of art just mentioned the creative force of the greeks attained its highest success. after the death of pheidias his methods were carried on in a way by the sculptors who had worked under him and become subject to his influence; but as years went on, with less and less to remind us of the supreme perfection of the master. among these pupils of pheidias were agoracritos and colotes in athens, paionios, and alcamenes. of paionios fortunately one statue survives in regard to which there can be no doubt. the victory erected to the olympian zeus shows a tall goddess, strongly yet gracefully carved, posed forward with her drapery flattened closely against her body in front as if by the wind, and streaming freely behind. the masterpiece of alcamenes, an aphrodite, is known only by descriptions. the pediments of the temple at olympia have been assigned, by tradition, one to alcamenes, one to paionios. they are, however, so thoroughly archaic in style that it seems impossible to reconcile them with what we know of the work of the men to whom they are attributed. the group of the eastern front represented the chariot races of oinomaos and pelops; that of the western, the struggle of the centaurs and lapithae. in the latter the action is extremely violent, only the apollo in the midst is calm and commanding. in both pediments there are decided approaches to realism. in athens, after pheidias, the greatest sculptures were those used to adorn the erechtheion. the group of caryatids, maidens who stand erect and firm, bearing upon their heads the weight of the porch, is justly celebrated as an architectural device. at the same time, the maidens, though thus performing the work of columns, do not lose the grace and charm which naturally belongs to them. another post-pheidian work at athens was the temple of nike apteros, the wingless victory. the bas-reliefs from this temple, now in the acropolis museum at athens, one representing the victory stooping to tie her sandal, another, the victory crowning a trophy, recall the consummate grace of the art of pheidias, the greatest greek art. agoracritos left behind him works at athens which in their perfection could scarcely be distinguished from the works of pheidias himself, none of which have come down to us. but from the time of the peloponnesian war, the seeds of decay were in the art of hellas, and they ripened fast. in one direction callimachus carried refined delicacy and formal perfection to excess; and in the other demetrios, the portrait sculptor, put by ideal beauty for the striking characteristics of realism. thus the strict reserve, the earnest simplicity of pheidias and his contemporaries, were sacrificed sacrificed partly, it is true, to the requirements of a fuller spiritual life, partly to the demands of a wider knowledge and deeper passion. the legitimate effects of sculpture are strictly limited. sculpture is fitted to express not temporary, accidental feeling, but permanent character; not violent action, but repose. in the great work of the golden age the thought of the artist was happily limited so that the form was adequate to its expression. one single motive was all that he tried to express a motive uncomplicated by details of specific situation, a type of general beauty unmixed with the peculiar suggestions of special and individual emotion. when the onward impulse led the artist to pass over the severe limits which bounded the thought of the earlier school, he found his medium becoming less adequate to the demands of his more detailed and circumstantial mental conception. the later sculpture, therefore, lacks in some measure the repose and entire assurance of the earlier. the earlier sculpture confines itself to broad, central lines of heroic and divine character, as in the two masterpieces of pheidias. the latter dealt in great elaboration with the details and elements of the stories and characters that formed its subjects, as in the niobe group, or the laocoon, to be mentioned later. these modern tendencies produced as the greatest artists of the later greek type scopas and praxiteles. between these, however, and the earlier school which they superseded came the athenian kephisodotos, the father, it may be supposed of praxiteles. his fame rests upon a single work, a copy of which has been discovered, the eirene and ploutos. in this, while the simplicity and strictness of the pheidian ideal have been largely preserved, it has been used as the vehicle of deeper feeling and more spiritual life. scopas was born at paros, and lived during the fist half of the fourth century. he did much decorative work including the pediments of the temple of athena at tegea. he participated also in the decoration of the mausoleum erected by artemisia to the memory of her husband. in this latter, the battle of the amazons, though probably not the work of scopas himself, shows in the violence of its attitudes and the pathos of its action the new elements of interest in greek art with the introduction of which scopas is connected. the fame of scopas rests principally on the niobe group which is attributed to him. the sculpture represents the wife of amphion at the moment when the curse of apollo and diana falls upon her, and her children are slain before her eyes. the children, already feeling the arrows of the gods, are flying to her for protection. she tries in vain to shield her youngest born beneath her mantle, and turns as if to hide her face with its motherly pride just giving place to despair and agony. the whole group is free from contortion and grandly tragic. the original exists no longer, but copies of parts of the group are found in the uffizi gallery at florence. the niobe group shows the distinction between scopas and praxiteles and the earlier artists in choice of subject and mode of treatment. the same distinction is shown by the raging bacchante of scopas. the head is thrown back, the hair loosened, the garments floating in the wind, an ecstacy of wild, torrent- like action. of the work of praxiteles we know more directly than of the work of any other greek sculptor of the same remoteness, for one statue has come down to us actually from the master's own hand, and we possess good copies of several others. his statues of aphrodite, of which there were at least five, are known to us by the figures on coins and by two works in the same style, the aphrodite in the glyptothek, and that of the vatican. the most famous of all was the aphrodite of cnidos, which was ranked with the olympian zeus and was called one of the wonders of te world. king nicomedes of bithynia offered vainly to the people of cnidos the entire amount of their state debt for its possession. lucian described the goddess as having a smile somewhat proud and disdainful; yet the eyes, moist and kindly, glowed with tenderness and passion, and the graceful lines of the shoulders, the voluptuous curves of the thighs, are full of sensuous feeling. the goddess, as represented in coins, stood beside a vase, over which her drapery is falling, while with her right hand she shields herself modestly. the head of aphrodite in the british museum, with its pure brows, its delicate, voluptuous lips, and sweet, soft skin, is, perhaps, the nearest approach which we possess to the glorious beauty of the original. other aphrodites, the draped statue of cos among them, and several statues of eros, representing tender, effeminate youths, illustrate further the departure which praxiteles marks from the restraint of pheidias. another of his masculine figures is the graceful apollo with the lizard. the god, strong in his youthful suppleness, is leaning against a tree threatening with his darts a small lizard which is seeking to climb up. still another type of masculine grace left us by praxiteles is his statue of the satyr, of which a copy exists in the capitoline museum. the satyr, in the hands of praxiteles, lost all his ancient uncouthness, and became a strong, graceful youth, with soft, full form. in the capitoline representation the boy is leaning easily against a tree, throwing his body into the most indolent posture, which brings out the soft, feminine curves of hips and legs. in fact, so thoroughly is the feminine principle worked into the statues of the apollo, the eros, and the satyr, that this characteristic became considered typical of praxiteles, and when, in , was discovered the one authentic work which we possess of this artist, the great hermes of olympia, critics were at a loss to reconcile this figure with what was already known of the sculptor's work, some holding that it must be a work of his youth, when, through his father, kephisodotos, he felt the force of the pheidian tradition, others that there must have been two sculptors bearing the great name of praxiteles. the hermes was found lacking the right arm and both legs below the knees, but the marvellous head and torso are perfectly preserved. the god is without the traditional symbols of his divinity. he is merely a beautiful man. he stands leaning easily against a tree, supporting on one arm the child dionysus, to whom he turns his gracious head with the devotion and love of a protector. the face, in its expression of sweet majesty, is distinctly a personal conception. the low forehead, the eyes far apart, the small, playful mouth, the round, dimpled chin, all bear evidence to the individual quality which praxiteles infused into the ideal thought of the god. the body, though at rest, is instinct with life and activity, in spite of its grace. in short, the form of the god has the superb perfection, as the face has the dignity, which was attributed to pheidias. nevertheless, the hermes illustrates sensual loveliness of the later school. the freedom with which the god is conceived belongs to an age when the chains of religious belief sat lightly upon the artist. the gds of praxiteles are the gods of human experience, and in his treatment of them he does not always escape the tendency of the age of decline to put pathos and passion in the place of eternal majesty. the influence of scopas and praxiteles continued to be felt through a number of artists who worked in sufficient harmony with them to be properly called of their school. to one of these followers of praxiteles, some say as a copy of a work of the master himself, we must attribute the demeter now in the british museum. this is a pathetic illustration of suffering motherhood. there is no exaggeration in the grief, only the calm dignity of a sorrow which in spite of hope refuses to be comforted. another work of an unknown artist, probably a follower of scopas, is the splendid victory of samothrace, now in the louvre. the goddess, with her great wings outspread behind her, is being carried forward, her firm rounded limbs striking through the draperies which flutter behind her, and fall about her in soft folds. vigorous and stately, the goddess poises herself on the prow of the ship, swaying with the impulse of conquering daring and strength. another statue which belongs, so far as artistic reasoning may carry us, to the period and school of praxiteles, is the so- called venus of milo. the proper title to be given to this statue is doubtful, for the drapery corresponds to that of the roman type of victory, and if we could be sure that the goddess once held the shield of conquest in her now broken arms we should be forced to call the figure a victory and place its date no earlier than the second century b.c. however this may be, the statue is justly one of the most famous in the world. it represents an ideal of purity and sweetness. there is not a trace of coarseness or immodesty in the half-naked woman who stands perfect in the maidenly dignity of her own conquering fairness. her serious yet smiling face, her graceful form, the delicacy of feeling in attitude and gaze, the tender moulding of breast and limbs, make it a worthy companion of the hermes or praxiteles. it seems scarcely possible that it should not have sprung from the inspiration of his example. the last of the great sculptors of greece was lysippos of sikyou. he differed from pheidias on the one hand and from polycleitos on the other. pheidias strove to make his gods all god-like; lysippos was content to represent them merely as exaggerated human beings; but therein he differed also from polycleitos, who aimed to model the human body with the beauty only which actually existed in it. lysippos felt that he must set the standard of human perfection higher than it appears in the average of human examples. hence we have from him the statues of heracles, in which the ideal of manly strength was carried far beyond the range of human possibility. a reminiscence of this conception of lysippos may be found in the farnese heracles of glycon, now in the museum of naples. lysippos also sculptured four statues of zeus, which depended for their interest largely on their heroic size. lysippos won much fame by his statues of alexander the great, but he is chiefly known to us by his statue of the athlete scraping himself with a strigil, of which an authentic copy is in the vatican. the figure differs decidedly from the thick-set, rather heavy figures of polycleitos, being tall, and slender in spite of its robustness. the head is small, the torso is small at the waist, but strong, and the whole body is splendidly active. the changes in the models of earlier sculptors made by lysippos were of sufficient importance to give rise to a school which was carried on by his sons and others, producing among many famous works the barberini faun, now at the glyptothek, munich. the enormous colossus of rhodes was also the work of a disciple of lysippos. but from this time the downward tendency in greek art is only too apparent, and very rapid. the spread of greek influence over asia, and later, in consequence of the conquest of greece by rome, over europe, had the effect of widening the market for greek production, but of drying up the sources of what was vital in that production. athens and sikyou became mere provincial cities, and were shorn thenceforth of all artistic significance; and greek art, thus deprived of the roots of its life, continued to grow for a while with a rank luxuriance of production, but soon became normal and conventional. the artists who followed lysippos contented themselves chiefly with seeking a merely technical perfection in reproducing the creations of the earlier and more original age. at pergamon under attalus, in the last years of the third century, there was something of an artistic revival. this attalus successfully defended his country against an overwhelming attack of the gauls from the north. to celebrate this victory, an altar was erected to zeus on the acropolis of pergamon, of which the frieze represented the contest between zeus and the giants. these sculptures are now to be found in berlin. they are carved in high relief; the giants with muscles strained and distended, their bodies writhing in the contortions of effort and suffering; the gods, no longer calm and restrained, but themselves overcome with the ardor of battle. zeus stretches his arms over the battle-field hurling destruction everywhere. athene turns from the field, dragging at her heels a young giant whom she has conquered, and reaches forward to the crown of victory. the wild, passionate action of the whole work remove it far from the firm, orderly work of pheidias, and carry it almost to the extreme of pathetic representation in sculpture shown by the laocoon. the contests with the gauls, the fear inspired by the huge forms of the barbarians, seem to have influenced powerfully the imaginative conceptions of the sculptors of the school of pergamon. one of the most famous works which they have left is the figure long known as the dying gladiator, of which a copy exists in the capitoline museum. this represents a gaul sinking wounded to the ground, supporting himself on his right arm. it is remarkable for its stern realism. the pain and sense of defeat comes out in every feature. moreover, the nationality of the fallen warrior is clearly expressed in the deep indentation between the heavy brow and the prominent nose, in the face, shaven, except the upper lip, in the uncouth, fleshy body, in the rough hands and feet. usually the artist preferred to hint at the race by some peculiarities of costume. here nothing but uncompromising realism of feature will satisfy the sculptor. a companion piece to the wounded gaul, though less famous, is the group of the villa ludovisi, which represents a gaul, who has slain his wife, in the act of stabbing himself in the neck. in addition to inspiring the sculptures at pergamon, attalus dedicated to the gods of athens a votive offering in return for the help which they had given him. this was placed on the acropolis at athens. it consisted of four groups, representing the gigantomachia or giant combat, the battle of the amazons, the battle of marathon, and the victory of attalus. figures from these survive, a dead amazon at naples and a kneeling persian at the vatican being the best known. another state which became famous in the declining days of greek art was the republic of rhodes. the rhodian sculptors learned their anatomy from lysippos, and caught their dramatic instinct from the artists of pergamon. two of the most famous sculpture groups in the world were produced at rhodes, the laocoon, now at the vatican, and the farnese bull, now at naples. the former was the work of three artists, given by pliny as agesandros, athanodorus, and polydorus. it has been accepted as one of the masterpieces of the world, but as we shall see, it is manifestly a work of a time of decadence. the laocoon illustrates excellently the extreme results of the pathetic tendency. the priest laocoon is represented at the moment when the serpents of apollo surround him and his two sons, born through their father's sin, and bear them all three down to destruction. the younger son, fatally bitten, falls back in death agony. the father yields slowly, his desperation giving way before the merciless strength of the serpents. the elder son shrinks away in horror though bound fast by the inevitable coils. the laocoon shows the pathetic tendency at its utmost. the technical difficulties have been overcome with astonishing success, and though the combination of figures is impossible in life, it is marvellously effective in art. but the group depends for its interest purely on the accidental horror of the situation. there is no hint in the sculpture of the motive of the tragedy, no suggestion of ethical significance in the suffering portrayed. it does not connect itself with any principle of life. in this way the work became a superb piece of display, a tour de force of surprising composition but with little serious meaning. the same judgment may be extended to the farnese bull, the work of apollonius and tauriscos, artists from tralles who lived at rhodes. this group represents the punishment of the cruel dirke at the hands of the sons of antiope. the beautiful queen clasps the knee of one of the sons praying for grace, while the other boy is about to throw over her the noose which is to bind her to the bull. antiope stands in the background, a mere lay figure, and scattered about are numerous small symbolical figures. like the laocoon the farnese bull exhibits surprising mastery of technical obstacles, but, like the laocoon, it falls short of true tragic grandeur. in a greater degree than the laocoon it trenches upon the province of painting. it is more complicated in its subject-matter; and the appearance in the group of many small subsidiary figures, which in a painting might have been given their proper value, being in the marble of the same relief and distinction as the major characters, give a somewhat absurd effect. the little goddess who sits in the foreground, for instance, is smaller than the dog. again, there is less of the motive shown than in the laocoon. the group is seized at the moment preceding the frightful catastrophe, but that moment is as full of agony as the succeeding ones, and in addition there is the feeling of suspense and oppression that comes from the unfinished tragedy. altogether, the group, in spite of the marvellous technical skill shown in details, is a failure when judged on general lines. its interest lies in momentary and apparently ummotived suffering, not in any truly serious conception of life. with the conquest of greece by rome, the final stage of greek art begins. but the vigor and originality had departed. the sculptors aimed at and attained technical correctness, academic beauty of form, sensuous feeling, perfection of details, but they lost all imaginative power. a good example of the work of this period is found in the apollo belvidere now in the vatican. this famous statue is an early roman copy of a greek original. it represents the god advancing easily, full of vigor and grace. it is marvellously correct in drawing, but quite without feeling of any kind. another work of this period is the sleeping ariadne of the vatican. this represents a woman reclining in a studied sentimental attitude, her arms thrown about her head, her body swathed in its protecting drapery. to the same period also belongs almost the last notable work of greek art, the degenerate and sensuous conception of the venus de medici. in this statue the goddess stands as if rising from the sea, her attitude reserved, yet coquettish and self-conscious. the form is technically perfect, graceful, and soft in its refinement, but compared with the earlier aphrodites it is an unworthy successor. still another famous statue is the borghese gladiator, of agasius of ephesus, now in the louvre. the statue is merely a bit of display, an effort to parade technical skill and anatomical knowledge. the gladiator throws his weight strongly on his right leg, and holds one arm high above his head, giving to his whole body an effect of straining. the figure is strong and wiry. agasius was distinctly an imitator, as were most of the artists of this age, among whom must be reckoned the skilful sculptor of the crouching venus, also in the louvre. the goddess is shown as bending down in graceful curves until her body is supported on the right leg, which is bent double. the form is strong and healthy, graceful and easy in its somewhat constrained posture. during all of this final period greek art was very largely influenced by the relations which existed between greece and rome. about the year b.c. the roman conquest of greece led to an important traffic in works of art between rome and the greek cities. for a time, indeed, statues formed a recognized part of the booty which graced every roman triumph. m. fulvius nobilior carried away not less than five hundred and fifteen. after the period of conquest the importation of greek statues continued at rome, and in time greek artists also began to remove thither, so that rome became not only the centre for the collection of greek works of art, but the chief seat of their production. at this time the roman religious conceptions were identified with those of greece, and the greek gods received the latin names by which we now know them. the influence of the greeks upon rome was very marked, but the reflex influence of the material civilization of italy upon greek art was altogether bad, and thus the splendor of classical art went out in dilletantism and weakness. the destruction of the roman empire by the barbarians makes a break in the artistic history of the world. not for many centuries was there a vestige of artistic production. even when in italy and france the monks began to make crude attempts to reach out for and represent in painting and sculpture imaginative conceptions of things beautiful, they took their material exclusively from christian sources. the tradition of classical stories had nearly vanished from the mind of europe. not until the renaissance restored the knowledge of classical culture to europe do we find artists making any use of the wealth of imaginative material stored up in the myths of greece. then, indeed, by the discovery and circulation of the poets of mythology, the greek stories and conceptions of characters, divine and human, became known once more and were used freely, remaining until the present day one chief source of material and subject-matter for the use of the painter and sculptor. myth, ritual, and religion volume one by andrew lang contents preface to new impression. preface to new edition. chapter i.--systems of mythology. definitions of religion--contradictory evidence--"belief in spiritual beings"--objection to mr. tylor's definition--definition as regards this argument--problem: the contradiction between religion and myth--two human moods--examples--case of greece-- ancient mythologists--criticism by eusebius--modern mythological systems--mr. max muller--mannhardt. chapter ii.--new system proposed. chapter i. recapitulated--proposal of a new method: science of comparative or historical study of man--anticipated in part by eusebius, fontenelle, de brosses, spencer (of c. c. c., cambridge), and mannhardt--science of tylor--object of inquiry: to find condition of human intellect in which marvels of myth are parts of practical everyday belief--this is the savage state--savages described--the wild element of myth a survival from the savage state--advantages of this method--partly accounts for wide diffusion as well as origin of myths--connected with general theory of evolution--puzzling example of myth of the water- swallower--professor tiele's criticism of the method-- objections to method, and answer to these--see appendix b. chapter iii.--the mental condition of savages--confusion with nature--totemism. the mental condition of savages the basis of the irrational element in myth--characteristics of that condition: ( ) confusion of all things in an equality of presumed animation and intelligence; ( ) belief in sorcery; ( ) spiritualism; ( ) curiosity; ( ) easy credulity and mental indolence--the curiosity is satisfied, thanks to the credulity, by myths in answer to all inquiries--evidence for this--mr. tylor's opinion--mr. im thurn--jesuit missionaries' relations--examples of confusion between men, plants, beasts and other natural objects--reports of travellers--evidence from institution of totemism--definition of totemism--totemism in australia, africa, america, the oceanic islands, india, north asia-- conclusions: totemism being found so widely distributed, is a proof of the existence of that savage mental condition in which no line is drawn between men and the other things in the world. this confusion is one of the characteristics of myth in all races. chapter iv.--the mental condition of savages--magic-- metamorphosis--metaphysic--psychology. claims of sorcerers--savage scientific speculation--theory of causation--credulity, except as to new religious ideas--"post hoc, ergo propter hoc"--fundamental ideas of magic--examples: incantations, ghosts, spirits--evidence of rank and other institutions in proof of confusions of mind exhibited in magical beliefs. chapter v.--nature myths. savage fancy, curiosity and credulity illustrated in nature myths-- in these all phenomena are explained by belief in the general animation of everything, combined with belief in metamorphosis--sun myths, asian, australian, african, melanesian, indian, californian, brazilian, maori, samoan--moon myths, australian, muysca, mexican, zulu, macassar, greenland, piute, malay--thunder myths--greek and aryan sun and moon myths--star myths--myths, savage and civilised, of animals, accounting for their marks and habits--examples of custom of claiming blood kinship with lower animals--myths of various plants and trees--myths of stones, and of metamorphosis into stones, greek, australian and american--the whole natural philosophy of savages expressed in myths, and survives in folk-lore and classical poetry; and legends of metamorphosis. chapter vi.--non-aryan myths of the origin of the world and of man. confusions of myth--various origins of man and of things--myths of australia, andaman islands, bushmen, ovaherero, namaquas, zulus, hurons, iroquois, diggers, navajoes, winnebagoes, chaldaeans, thlinkeets, pacific islanders, maoris, aztecs, peruvians-- similarity of ideas pervading all those peoples in various conditions of society and culture. chapter vii.--indo-aryan myths--sources of evidence. authorities--vedas--brahmanas--social condition of vedic india-- arts--ranks--war--vedic fetishism--ancestor worship--date of rig- veda hymns doubtful--obscurity of the hymns--difficulty of interpreting the real character of veda--not primitive but sacerdotal--the moral purity not innocence but refinement. chapter viii.--indian myths of the origin of the world and of man. comparison of vedic and savage myths--the metaphysical vedic account of the beginning of things--opposite and savage fable of world made out of fragments of a man--discussion of this hymn-- absurdities of brahmanas--prajapati, a vedic unkulunkulu or qat-- evolutionary myths--marriage of heaven and earth--myths of puranas, their savage parallels--most savage myths are repeated in brahmanas. chapter ix.--greek myths of the origin of the world and man. the greeks practically civilised when we first meet them in homer-- their mythology, however, is full of repulsive features--the hypothesis that many of these are savage survivals--are there other examples of such survival in greek life and institutions?--greek opinion was constant that the race had been savage--illustrations of savage survival from greek law of homicide, from magic, religion, human sacrifice, religious art, traces of totemism, and from the mysteries--conclusion: that savage survival may also be expected in greek myths. chapter x.--greek cosmogonic myths. nature of the evidence--traditions of origin of the world and man-- homeric, hesiodic and orphic myths--later evidence of historians, dramatists, commentators--the homeric story comparatively pure--the story in hesiod, and its savage analogues--the explanations of the myth of cronus, modern and ancient--the orphic cosmogony--phanes and prajapati--greek myths of the origin of man--their savage analogues. chapter xi.--savage divine myths. the origin of a belief in god beyond the ken of history and of speculation--sketch of conjectural theories--two elements in all beliefs, whether of backward or civilised races--the mythical and the religious--these may be coeval, or either may be older than the other--difficulty of study--the current anthropological theory-- stated objections to the theory--gods and spirits--suggestion that savage religion is borrowed from europeans--reply to mr. tylor's arguments on this head--the morality of savages. preface to new impression. when this book first appeared ( ), the philological school of interpretation of religion and myth, being then still powerful in england, was criticised and opposed by the author. in science, as on the turkish throne of old, "amurath to amurath succeeds"; the philological theories of religion and myth have now yielded to anthropological methods. the centre of the anthropological position was the "ghost theory" of mr. herbert spencer, the "animistic" theory of mr. e. r. tylor, according to whom the propitiation of ancestral and other spirits leads to polytheism, and thence to monotheism. in the second edition ( ) of this work the author argued that the belief in a "relatively supreme being," anthropomorphic was as old as, and might be even older, than animistic religion. this theory he exhibited at greater length, and with a larger collection of evidence, in his making of religion. since , a great deal of fresh testimony as to what mr. howitt styles the "all father" in savage and barbaric religions has accrued. as regards this being in africa, the reader may consult the volumes of the new series of the journal of the anthropological institute, which are full of african evidence, not, as yet, discussed, to my knowledge, by any writer on the history of religion. as late as man, for july, , no. , mr. parkinson published interesting yoruba legends about oleron, the maker and father of men, and oro, the master of the bull roarer. from australia, we have mr. howitt's account of the all father in his native tribes of south-east australia, with the account of the all father of the central australian tribe, the kaitish, in north central tribes of australia, by messrs. spencer and gillen ( ), also the euahlayi tribe, by mrs. langley parker ( ). these masterly books are indispensable to all students of the subject, while, in messrs. spencer and gillen's work cited, and in their earlier native tribes of central australia, we are introduced to savages who offer an elaborate animistic theory, and are said to show no traces of the all father belief. the books of messrs. spencer and gillen also present much evidence as to a previously unknown form of totemism, in which the totem is not hereditary, and does not regulate marriage. this prevails among the arunta "nation," and the kaitish tribe. in the opinion of mr. spencer (report australian association for advancement of science, ) and of mr. j. g. frazer (fortnightly review, september, ), this is the earliest surviving form of totemism, and mr. frazer suggests an animistic origin for the institution. i have criticised these views in the secret of the totem ( ), and proposed a different solution of the problem. (see also "primitive and advanced totemism" in journal of the anthropological institute, july, .) in the works mentioned will be found references to other sources of information as to these questions, which are still sub judice. mrs. bates, who has been studying the hitherto almost unknown tribes of western australia, promises a book on their beliefs and institutions, and mr. n. w. thomas is engaged on a volume on australian institutions. in this place the author can only direct attention to these novel sources, and to the promised third edition of mr. frazer's the golden bough. a. l. preface to new edition. the original edition of myth, ritual and religion, published in , has long been out of print. in revising the book i have brought it into line with the ideas expressed in the second part of my making of religion ( ) and have excised certain passages which, as the book first appeared, were inconsistent with its main thesis. in some cases the original passages are retained in notes, to show the nature of the development of the author's opinions. a fragment or two of controversy has been deleted, and chapters xi. and xii., on the religion of the lowest races, have been entirely rewritten, on the strength of more recent or earlier information lately acquired. the gist of the book as it stands now and as it originally stood is contained in the following lines from the preface of : "while the attempt is made to show that the wilder features of myth survive from, or were borrowed from, or were imitated from the ideas of people in the savage condition of thought, the existence--even among savages--of comparatively pure, if inarticulate, religious beliefs is insisted on throughout". to that opinion i adhere, and i trust that it is now expressed with more consistency than in the first edition. i have seen reason, more and more, to doubt the validity of the "ghost theory," or animistic hypothesis, as explanatory of the whole fabric of religion; and i present arguments against mr. tylor's contention that the higher conceptions of savage faith are borrowed from missionaries.( ) it is very possible, however, that mr. tylor has arguments more powerful than those contained in his paper of . for our information is not yet adequate to a scientific theory of the origin of religion, and probably never will be. behind the races whom we must regard as "nearest the beginning" are their unknown ancestors from a dateless past, men as human as ourselves, but men concerning whose psychical, mental and moral condition we can only form conjectures. among them religion arose, in circumstances of which we are necessarily ignorant. thus i only venture on a surmise as to the germ of a faith in a maker (if i am not to say "creator") and judge of men. but, as to whether the higher religious belief, or the lower mythical stories came first, we are at least certain that the christian conception of god, given pure, was presently entangled, by the popular fancy of europe, in new marchen about the deity, the madonna, her son, and the apostles. here, beyond possibility of denial, pure belief came first, fanciful legend was attached after. i am inclined to surmise that this has always been the case, and, in the pages on the legend of zeus, i show the processes of degeneration, of mythical accretions on a faith in a heaven-god, in action. that "the feeling of religious devotion" attests "high faculties" in early man (such as are often denied to men who "cannot count up to seven"), and that "the same high mental faculties... would infallibly lead him, as long as his reasoning powers remained poorly developed, to various strange superstitions and customs," was the belief of mr. darwin.( ) that is also my view, and i note that the lowest savages are not yet guilty of the very worst practices, "sacrifice of human beings to a blood-loving god," and ordeals by poison and fire, to which mr. darwin alludes. "the improvement of our science" has freed us from misdeeds which are unknown to the andamanese or the australians. thus there was, as regards these points in morals, degeneracy from savagery as society advanced, and i believe that there was also degeneration in religion. to say this is not to hint at a theory of supernatural revelation to the earliest men, a theory which i must, in limine disclaim. ( ) tylor, "limits of savage religion." journal of the anthropological institute, vol. xxi. ( ) descent of man, p. , . in vol. ii. p. occurs a reference, in a note, to mr. hartland's criticism of my ideas about australian gods as set forth in the making of religion. mr. hartland, who kindly read the chapters on australian religion in this book, does not consider that my note on p. meets the point of his argument. as to the australians, i mean no more than that, among endless low myths, some of them possess a belief in a "maker of everything," a primal being, still in existence, watching conduct, punishing breaches of his laws, and, in some cases, rewarding the good in a future life. of course these are the germs of a sympathetic religion, even if the being thus regarded is mixed up with immoral or humorous contradictory myths. my position is not harmed by such myths, which occur in all old religions, and, in the middle ages, new myths were attached to the sacred figures of christianity in poetry and popular tales. thus, if there is nothing "sacred" in a religion because wild or wicked fables about the gods also occur, there is nothing "sacred" in almost any religion on earth. mr. hartland's point, however, seems to be that, in the making of religion, i had selected certain australian beliefs as especially "sacred" and to be distinguished from others, because they are inculcated at the religious mysteries of some tribes. his aim, then, is to discover low, wild, immoral myths, inculcated at the mysteries, and thus to destroy my line drawn between religion on one hand and myth or mere folk-lore on the other. thus there is a being named daramulun, of whose rites, among the coast murring, i condensed the account of mr. howitt.( ) from a statement by mr. greenway( ) mr. hartland learned that daramulun's name is said to mean "leg on one side" or "lame". he, therefore, with fine humour, speaks of daramulun as "a creator with a game leg," though when "baiame" is derived by two excellent linguists, mr. ridley and mr. greenway, from kamilaroi baia, "to make," mr. hartland is by no means so sure of the sense of the name. it happens to be inconvenient to him! let the names mean what they may, mr. hartland finds, in an obiter dictum of mr. howitt (before he was initiated), that daramulun is said to have "died," and that his spirit is now aloft. who says so, and where, we are not informed,( ) and the question is important. ( ) j. a. i., xiii. pp. - . ( ) ibid., xxi. p. . ( ) ibid., xiii. p. . for the wiraijuri, in their mysteries, tell a myth of cannibal conduct of daramulun's, and of deceit and failure of knowledge in baiame.( ) of this i was unaware, or neglected it, for i explicitly said that i followed mr. howitt's account, where no such matter is mentioned. mr. howitt, in fact, described the mysteries of the coast murring, while the narrator of the low myths, mr. matthews, described those of a remote tribe, the wiraijuri, with whom daramulun is not the chief, but a subordinate person. how mr. matthews' friends can at once hold that daramulun was "destroyed" by baiame (their chief deity), and also that daramulun's voice is heard at their rites, i don't know.( ) nor do i know why mr. hartland takes the myth of a tribe where daramulun is "the evil spirit who rules the night,"( ) and introduces it as an argument against the belief of a distant tribe, where, by mr. howitt's account, daramulun is not an evil spirit, but "the master" of all, whose abode is above the sky, and to whom are attributed powers of omnipotence and omnipresence, or, at any rate, the power "to do anything and to go anywhere.... to his direct ordinances are attributed the social and moral laws of the community."( ) this is not "an evil spirit"! when mr. hartland goes for scandals to a remote tribe of a different creed that he may discredit the creed of the coast murring, he might as well attribute to the free kirk "the errors of rome". but mr. hartland does it!( ) being "cunning of fence" he may reply that i also spoke loosely of wiraijuri and coast murring as, indifferently, daramulunites. i did, and i was wrong, and my critic ought not to accept but to expose my error. the wiraijuri daramulun, who was annihilated, yet who is "an evil spirit that rules the night," is not the murring guardian and founder of recognised ethics. ( ) j. a. i., xxv. p. . ( ) ibid., may, , p. . ( ) ibid. ( ) ibid., xiii. pp. , . ( ) folk-lore, ix., no. iv., p. . but, in the wiraijuri mysteries, the master, baiame, deceives the women as to the mysteries! shocking to us, but to deceive the women as to these arcana, is, to the australian mind in general, necessary for the safety of the world. moreover, we have heard of a lying spirit sent to deceive prophets in a much higher creed. finally, in a myth of the mystery of the wiraijuri, baiame is not omniscient. indeed, even civilised races cannot keep on the level of these religious conceptions, and not to keep on that level is--mythology. apollo, in the hymn to hermes, sung on a sacred occasion, needs to ask an old vine-dresser for intelligence. hyperion "sees all and hears all," but needs to be informed, by his daughters, of the slaughter of his kine. the lord, in the book of job, has to ask satan, "whence comest thou?" now for the sake of dramatic effect, now from pure inability to live on the level of his highest thought, man mythologises and anthropomorphises, in greece or israel, as in australia. it does not follow that there is "nothing sacred" in his religion. mr. hartland offers me a case in point. in mrs. langloh parker's australian legendary tales (pp. , ), are myths of low adventures of baiame. in her more australian legendary tales (pp. - ), is a very poetical and charming aspect of the baiame belief. mr. hartland says that i will "seek to put" the first set of stories out of court, as "a kind of joke with no sacredness about it". not i, but the noongahburrah tribe themselves make this essential distinction. mrs. langloh parker says:( ) "the former series" (with the low baiame myths) "were all such legends as are told to the black picaninnies; among the present are some they would not be allowed to hear, touching as they do on sacred things, taboo to the young". the blacks draw the line which i am said to seek to draw. ( ) more legendary tales, p. xv. in yet another case( ) grotesque hunting adventures of baiame are told in the mysteries, and illustrated by the sacred temporary representations in raised earth. i did not know it; i merely followed mr. howitt. but i do not doubt it. my reply is, that there was "something sacred" in greek mysteries, something purifying, ennobling, consoling. for this lobeck has collected (and disparaged) the evidence of pindar, sophocles, cicero and many others, while even aristophanes, as prof. campbell remarks, says: "we only have bright sun and cheerful life who have been initiated and lived piously in regard to strangers and to private citizens".( ) security and peace of mind, in this world and for the next, were, we know not how, borne into the hearts of pindar and sophocles in the mysteries. yet, if we may at all trust the fathers, there were scenes of debauchery, as at the mysteries of the fijians (nanga) there was buffoonery ("to amuse the boys," mr. howitt says of some australian rites), the story of baubo is only one example, and, in other mysteries than the eleusinian, we know of mummeries in which an absurd tale of zeus is related in connection with an oak log. yet surely there was "something sacred" in the faith of zeus! let us judge the australians as we judge greeks. the precepts as to "speaking the straightforward truth," as to unselfishness, avoidance of quarrels, of wrongs to "unprotected women," of unnatural vices, are certainly communicated in the mysteries of some tribes, with, in another, knowledge of the name and nature of "our father," munganngaur. that a totemistic dance, or medicine-dance of emu hunting, is also displayed( ) at certain mysteries of a given tribe, and that baiame is spoken of as the hero of this ballet, no more deprives the australian moral and religious teaching (at the mysteries) of sacred value, than the stupid indecency whereby baubo made demeter laugh destroys the sacredness of the eleusinia, on which pindar, sophocles and cicero eloquently dwell. if the australian mystae, at the most solemn moment of their lives, are shown a dull or dirty divine ballet d'action, what did sophocles see, after taking a swim with his pig? many things far from edifying, yet the sacred element of religious hope and faith was also represented. so it is in australia. ( ) j. a. i., xxiv. p. . ( ) religion in greek literature, p. . it is to be regretted that the learned professor gives no references. the greek mysteries are treated later in this volume. ( ) see a picture of australia, , p. . these studies ought to be comparative, otherwise they are worthless. as mr. hartland calls daramulun "an eternal creator with a game leg" who "died," he may call zeus an "eternal father, who swallowed his wife, lay with his mother and sister, made love as a swan, and died, nay, was buried, in crete". i do not think that mr. hartland would call zeus "a ghost-god" (my own phrase), or think that he was scoring a point against me, if i spoke of the sacred and ethical characteristics of the zeus adored by eumaeus in the odyssey. he would not be so humorous about zeus, nor fall into an ignoratio elenchi. for my point never was that any australian tribe had a pure theistic conception unsoiled and unobliterated by myth and buffoonery. my argument was that among their ideas is that of a superhuman being, unceasing (if i may not say eternal), a maker (if i may not say a creator), a guardian of certain by no means despicable ethics, which i never proclaimed as supernormally inspired! it is no reply to me to say that, in or out of mysteries, low fables about that being are told, and buffooneries are enacted. for, though i say that certain high ideas are taught in mysteries, i do not think i say that in mysteries no low myths are told. i take this opportunity, as the earliest, to apologise for an error in my making of religion concerning a passage in the primitive culture of my friend mr. e. b. tylor. mr. tylor quoted( ) a passage from captain john smith's history of virginia, as given in pinkerton, xiii. pp. - , . in this passage no mention occurs of a virginian deity named ahone but "okee," another and more truculent god, is named. i observed that, if mr. tylor had used strachey's historie of travaile ( ), he would have found "a slightly varying copy" of smith's text of , with ahone as superior to okee. i added in a note (p. ): "there is a description of virginia, by w. strachey, including smith's remarks published in . strachey interwove some of this work with his own ms. in the british museum." here, as presently will be shown, i erred, in company with strachey's editor of , and with the writer on strachey in the dictionary of national biography. what mr. tylor quoted from an edition of smith in had already appeared, in , in a book (map of virginia, with a description of the countrey) described on the title-page as "written by captain smith," though, in my opinion, smith may have had a collaborator. there is no evidence whatever that strachey had anything to do with this book of , in which there is no mention of ahone. mr. arber dates strachey's own ms. (in which ahone occurs) as of - .( ) i myself, for reasons presently to be alleged, date the ms. mainly in - . if mr. arber and i are right, strachey must have had access to smith's ms. before it was published in , and we shall see how he used it. my point here is that strachey mentioned ahone (in ms.) before smith's book of was published. this could not be gathered from the dedication to bacon prefixed to strachey's ms., for that dedication cannot be earlier that .( ) i now ask leave to discuss the evidence for an early pre-christian belief in a primal creator, held by the indian tribes from plymouth, in new england, to roanoke island, off southern virginia. ( ) prim. cult. ii. p. . ( ) arber's smith, p. cxxxiii. ( ) hakluyt society, strachey, , pp. xxi., xxii. the god ahone. an insertion by a manifest plagiary into the work of a detected liar is not, usually, good evidence. yet this is all the evidence, it may be urged, which we have for the existence of a belief, in early virginia, as to a good creator, named ahone. the matter stands thus: in - the famed captain john smith endured and achieved in virginia sufferings and adventures. in he sent to the council at home a ms. map and description of the colony. in he returned to england (october). in may, , william strachey, gent., arrived in virginia, where he was "secretary of state" to lord de la warr. in strachey and smith were both in england. in that year barnes of oxford published a map of virginia, with a description, etc., "written by captain smith," according to the title-page. there was annexed a compilation from various sources, edited by "w. s.," that is, not william strachey, but dr. william symonds. in the same year, , or in , william strachey wrote his historie of travaile into virginia britannia, at least as far as page of the hakluyt edition of .( ) ( ) for proof see p. . third line from foot of page, where is indicated. again, see p. , line , where "last year" is dated as " , about christmas," which would put strachey's work at this point as actually of ; prior, that is, to smith's publication. again, p. , "this last year, myself being at the falls" (of the james river), "i found in an indian house certain clawes... which i brought away and into england". if strachey, who went out with lord de la warr as secretary in , returned with him (as is likely), he sailed for england on th march, . in that case, he was in england in , and the passages cited leave it dubious whether he wrote his book in , , or in both years.( ) ( ) mr. arber dates the ms. " - ," and attributes to strachey laws for virginia, . strachey embodies in his work considerable pieces of smith's map of virginia and description, written in , and published in . he continually deserts smith, however, adding more recent information, reflections and references to the ancient classics, with allusions to his own travels in the levant. his glossary is much more extensive than smith's, and he inserts a native song of triumph over the english in the original.( ) now, when strachey comes to the religion of the natives( ) he gives eighteen pages (much of it verbiage) to five of smith's.( ) what smith ( ) says of their chief god i quote, setting strachey's version ( - ) beside it. ( ) strachey, pp. - . he may have got the song from kemps or machumps, friendly natives. ( ) pp. - . ( ) arber, pp. - . smith (published, ). but their chiefe god they worship is the diuell. him they call oke, and serue him more of feare than loue. they say they have conference with him, and fashion themselues as near to his shape as they can imagine. in their temples, they have his image euile favouredly carved, and then painted, and adorned with chaines, copper, and beades; and covered with a skin, in such manner as the deformity may well suit with such a god. by him is commonly the sepulcher of their kings. strachey (written, - ). but their chief god they worship is no other, indeed, then the divell, whome they make presentments of, and shadow under the forme of an idoll, which they entitle okeus, and whome they worship as the romans did their hurtful god vejovis, more for feare of harme then for hope of any good; they saie they have conference with him, and fashion themselves in their disguisments as neere to his shape as they can imagyn. in every territory of a weroance is a temple and a priest, peradventure two or thrie; yet happie doth that weroance accompt himself who can detayne with him a quiyough-quisock, of the best, grave, lucky, well instructed in their misteryes, and beloved of their god; and such a one is noe lesse honoured then was dianae's priest at ephesus, for whome they have their more private temples, with oratories and chauneells therein, according as is the dignity and reverence of the quiyough-quisock, which the weroance wilbe at charge to build upon purpose, sometyme twenty foote broad and a hundred in length, fashioned arbour wyse after their buylding, having comonly the dore opening into the east, and at the west end a spence or chauncell from the body of the temple, with hollow wyndings and pillers, whereon stand divers black imagies, fashioned to the shoulders, with their faces looking down the church, and where within their weroances, upon a kind of biere of reedes, lye buryed; and under them, apart, in a vault low in the ground (as a more secrett thing), vailed with a matt, sitts their okeus, an image ill-favouredly carved, all black dressed, with chaynes of perle, the presentment and figure of that god (say the priests unto the laity, and who religiously believe what the priests saie) which doth them all the harme they suffer, be yt in their bodies or goods, within doores or abroad; and true yt is many of them are divers tymes (especyally offendors) shrewdly scratched as they walke alone in the woods, yt may well be by the subtyle spirit, the malitious enemy to mankind, whome, therefore, to pacefie and worke to doe them good (at least no harme) the priests tell them they must do these and these sacrifices unto (them) of these and these things, and thus and thus often, by which meanes not only their owne children, but straungers, are sometimes sacrificed unto him: whilst the great god (the priests tell them) who governes all the world, and makes the sun to shine, creating the moone and stars his companyons, great powers, and which dwell with him, and by whose virtues and influences the under earth is tempered, and brings forth her fruiets according to her seasons, they calling ahone; the good and peaceable god requires no such dutyes, nor needes be sacrificed unto, for he intendeth all good unto them, and will doe noe harme, only the displeased okeus, looking into all men's accions, and examining the same according to the severe scale of justice, punisheth them with sicknesse, beats them, and strikes their ripe corn with blastings, stormes, and thunder clapps, stirrs up warre, and makes their women falce unto them. such is the misery and thraldome under which sathan hath bound these wretched miscreants. i began by calling strachey a plagiary. the reader will now observe that he gives far more than he takes. for example, his account of the temples is much more full than that of smith, and he adds to smith's version the character and being of ahone, as what "the priests tell them". i submit, therefore, that strachey's additions, if valid for temples, are not discredited for ahone, merely because they are inserted in the framework of smith. as far as i understand the matter, smith's map of virginia ( ) is an amended copy, with additions, by smith or another writer of that description, which he sent home to the council of virginia, in november, .( ) to the book of was added a portion of "relations" by different hands, edited by w. s., namely, dr. symonds. strachey's editor, in , regarded w. s. as strachey, and supposed that strachey was the real author of smith's map of virginia, so that, in his historie of travaile, strachey merely took back his own. he did not take back his own; he made use of smith's ms., not yet published, if mr. arber and i rightly date strachey's ms. at - , or - . why strachey acted thus it is possible to conjecture. as a scholar well acquainted with virginia, and as secretary for the colony, he would have access to smith's ms. of among the papers of the council, before its publication. smith professes himself "no scholer".( ) on the other hand, strachey likes to show off his latin and greek. he has a curious, if inaccurate, knowledge of esoteric greek and roman religious antiquities, and in writing of religion aims at a comparative method. strachey, however, took the trouble to copy bits of smith into his own larger work, which he never gave to the printers. ( ) arber, p. . ( ) arber, p. . now as to ahone. it suits my argument to suppose that strachey's account is no less genuine than his description of the temples (illustrated by a picture by john white, who had been in virginia in ), and the account of the great hare of american mythology.( ) this view of a virginian creator, "our chief god" "who takes upon him this shape of a hare," was got, says strachey, "last year, ," from a brother of the potomac king, by a boy named spilman, who says that smith "sold" him to powhattan.( ) in his own brief narrative spelman (or spilman) says nothing about the cosmogonic legend of the great hare. the story came up when captain argoll was telling powhattan's brother the account of creation in genesis ( ). ( ) strachey, p. - . ( ) "spilman's narrative," arber, cx.-cxiv. now strachey's great hare is accepted by mythologists, while ahone is regarded with suspicion. ahone does not happen to suit anthropological ideas, the hare suits them rather better. moreover, and more important, there is abundant corroborative evidence for oke and for the hare, michabo, who, says dr. brinton, "was originally the highest divinity recognised by them, powerful and beneficent beyond all others, maker of the heavens and the world," just like ahone, in fact. and dr. brinton instructs us that michabo originally meant not great hare, but "the spirit of light".( ) thus, originally, the red men adored "the spirit of light, maker of the heavens and the world". strachey claims no more than this for ahone. now, of course, dr. brinton may be right. but i have already expressed my extreme distrust of the philological processes by which he extracts "the great light; spirit of light," from michabo, "beyond a doubt!" in my poor opinion, whatever claims michabo may have as an unique creator of earth and heaven--"god is light,"--he owes his mythical aspect as a hare to something other than an unconscious pun. in any case, according to dr. brinton, michabo, regarded as a creator, is equivalent to strachey's ahone. this amount of corroboration, valeat quantum, i may claim, from the potomac indians, for the belief in ahone on the james river. dr. brinton is notoriously not a believer in american "monotheism".( ) ( ) myths of the new world, p. . ( ) myths of the new world, p. . the opponents of the authenticity of ahone, however, will certainly argue: "for oke, or oki, as a redoubted being or spirit, or general name for such personages, we have plentiful evidence, corroborating that of smith. but what evidence as to ahone corroborates that of strachey?" i must confess that i have no explicit corroborative evidence for ahone, but then i have no accessible library of early books on virginia. now it is clear that if i found and produced evidence for ahone as late as , i would be met at once with the retort that, between and , christian ideas had contaminated the native beliefs. thus if i find ahone, or a deity of like attributes, after a very early date, he is of no use for my purpose. nor do i much expect to find him. but do we find winslow's massachusetts god, kiehtan, named after ("i only ask for information"), and if we don't, does that prevent mr. tylor from citing kiehtan, with apparent reliance on the evidence?( ) ( ) primitive culture, ii. p. . again, ahone, though primal and creative, is, by strachey's account, a sleeping partner. he has no sacrifice, and no temple or idol is recorded. therefore the belief in ahone could only be discovered as a result of inquiry, whereas figures of oke or okeus, and his services, were common and conspicuous.( ) as to oke, i cannot quite understand mr. tylor's attitude. summarising lafitau, a late writer of , mr. tylor writes: "the whole class of spirits or demons, known to the caribs by the name of cemi, in algonkin as manitu, in huron as oki, lafitau now spells with capital letters, and converts them each into a supreme being".( ) yet in primitive culture, ii., , , mr. tylor had cited smith's okee (with a capital letter) as the "chief god" of the virginians in . how can lafitau be said to have elevated oki into oki, and so to have made a god out of "a class of spirits or demons," in , when mr. tylor had already cited smith's okee, with a capital letter and as a "chief god," in ? smith, rebuked for the same by mr. tylor, had even identified okee with the devil. lafitau certainly did not begin this erroneous view of oki as a "chief god" among the virginians. if i cannot to-day produce corroboration for a god named ahone, i can at least show that, from the north of new england to the south of virginia, there is early evidence, cited by mr. tylor, for a belief in a primal creative being, closely analogous to ahone. and this evidence, i think, distinctly proves that such a being as ahone was within the capacity of the indians in these latitudes. mr. tylor must have thought in that the natives were competent to a belief in a supreme deity, for he said, "another famous native american name for the supreme deity is oki".( ) in the essay of , however, oki does not appear to exist as a god's name till . we may now, for earlier evidence, turn to master thomas heriot, "that learned mathematician" "who spoke the indian language," and was with the company which abandoned virginia on th june, . they ranged miles north and miles north-west of roanoke island, which brings them into the neighbourhood of smith's and strachey's country. heriot writes as to the native creeds: "they believe that there are many gods which they call mantoac, but of different sorts and degrees. also that there is one chiefe god that hath beene from all eternitie, who, as they say, when he purposed first to make the world, made first other gods of a principall order, to be as instruments to be used in the creation and government to follow, and after the sunne, moone and starres as pettie gods, and the instruments of the other order more principall.... they thinke that all the gods are of humane shape," and represent them by anthropomorphic idols. an idol, or image, "kewasa" (the plural is "kewasowok"), is placed in the temples, "where they worship, pray and make many offerings". good souls go to be happy with the gods, the bad burn in popogusso, a great pit, "where the sun sets". the evidence for this theory of a future life, as usual, is that of men who died and revived again, a story found in a score of widely separated regions, down to our day, when the death, revival and revelation occurred to the founder of the arapahoe new religion of the ghost dance. the belief "works for righteousness". "the common sort... have great care to avoyde torment after death, and to enjoy blesse," also they have "great respect to their governors". ( ) okee's image, as early as , was borne into battle against smith, who captured the god (arber, p. ). ahone was not thus en evidence. ( ) journal of anthrop. inst., feb., , pp. , . ( ) prim. cult,, ii. p. . this belief in a chief god "from all eternitie" (that is, of unexplained origin), may not be convenient to some speculators, but it exactly corroborates strachey's account of ahone as creator with subordinates. the evidence is of (twenty-six years before strachey), and, like strachey, heriot attributes the whole scheme of belief to "the priestes". "this is the sum of their religion, which i learned by having speciall familiaritie with some of their priests."( ) i see no escape from the conclusion that the virginians believed as heriot says they did, except the device of alleging that they promptly borrowed some of heriot's ideas and maintained that these ideas had ever been their own. heriot certainly did not recognise the identity. "through conversing with us they were brought into great doubts of their owne (religion), and no small admiration of ours; of which many desired to learne more than we had the meanes for want of utterance in their language to expresse." so heriot could not be subtle in the native tongue. heriot did what he could to convert them: "i did my best to make his immortall glory knowne". his efforts were chiefly successful by virtue of the savage admiration of our guns, mathematical instruments, and so forth. these sources of an awakened interest in christianity would vanish with the total destruction and discomfiture of the colony, unless a few captives, later massacred, taught our religion to the natives.( ) ( ) according to strachey, heriot could speak the native language. ( ) heriot's narrative, pp. - . quaritch, london, . i shall cite another early example of a new england deity akin to ahone, with a deputy, a friend of sorcerers, like okee. this account is in smith's general history of new england, - . we sent out a colony in ; "they all returned in the yeere ," esteeming the country "a cold, barren, mountainous rocky desart". i am apt to believe that they did not plant the fructifying seeds of grace among the natives in - . but the missionary efforts of french traders may, of course, have been blessed; nor can i deny that a yellow-haired man, whose corpse was found in with some objects of iron, may have converted the natives to such beliefs as they possessed. we are told, however, that these tenets were of ancestral antiquity. i cite e. winslow, as edited by smith ( - ):-- "those where in this plantation (new plymouth) say kiehtan( ) made all the other gods: also one man and one woman, and with them all mankinde, but how they became so dispersed they know not. they say that at first there was no king but kiehtan, that dwelleth far westerly above the heavens, whither all good men go when they die, and have plentie of all things. the bad go thither also and knock at the door, but ('the door is shut') he bids them go wander in endless want and misery, for they shall not stay there. they never saw kiehtan,( ) but they hold it a great charge and dutie that one race teach another; and to him they make feasts and cry and sing for plenty and victory, or anything that is good. ( ) in mr. tylor regarded dr. brinton's etymology of kiehtan as = kittanitowit = "great living spirit," as "plausible". in his edition of he omits this etymology. personally i entirely distrust the philological theories of the original sense of old divine names as a general rule. ( ) "they never saw kiehtan." so, about , "the common answer of intelligent black fellows on the barwon when asked if they know baiame... is this: 'kamil zaia zummi baiame, zaia winuzgulda'; 'i have not seen baiame, i have heard or perceived him'. if asked who made the sky, the earth, the animals and man, they always answer 'baiame'." daramulun, according to the same authority in lang's queensland, was the familiar of sorcerers, and appeared as a serpent. this answers, as i show, to hobamock the subordinate power to kiehtan in new england and to okee, the familiar of sorcerers in virginia. (ridley, j. a. i., , p. .) "they have another power they call hobamock, which we conceive the devill, and upon him they call to cure their wounds and diseases; when they are curable he persuades them he sent them, because they have displeased him; but, if they be mortal, then he saith, 'kiehtan sent them'; which makes them never call on him in their sickness. they say this hobamock appears to them sometimes like a man, a deer, or an eagle, but most commonly like a snake; not to all but to their powahs to cure diseases, and undeses... and these are such as conjure in virginia, and cause the people to do what they list." winslow (or rather smith editing winslow here), had already said, "they believe, as do the virginians, of many divine powers, yet of one above all the rest, as the southern virginians call their chief god kewassa (an error), and that we now inhabit oke.... the massachusetts call their great god kiehtan."( ) ( ) arber, pp. , . here, then, in heriot ( ), strachey ( - ) and winslow ( ), we find fairly harmonious accounts of a polydaemonism with a chief, primal, creative being above and behind it; a being unnamed, and ahone and kiehtan. is all this invention? or was all this derived from europeans before , and, if so, from what europeans? mr. tylor, in , wrote, "after due allowance made for misrendering of savage answers, and importation of white men's thoughts, it can hardly be judged that a divine being, whose characteristics are often so unlike what european intercourse would have suggested, and who is heard of by such early explorers among such distant tribes, could be a deity of foreign origin". now, he "can hardly be altogether a deity of foreign origin".( ) i agree with mr. tylor's earlier statement. in my opinion ahone--okeus, kiehtan--hobamock, correspond, the first pair to the usually unseen australian baiame (a crystal or hypnotic vision of baiame scarcely counts), while the second pair, okeus and hobamock, answer to the australian familiars of sorcerers, koin and brewin; the american "powers" being those of peoples on a higher level of culture. like tharramulun where baiame is supreme, hobamock appears as a snake (asclepius). ( ) prim. cult., ii. , , . for all these reasons i am inclined to accept strachey's ahone as a veritable element in virginian belief. without temple or service, such a being was not conspicuous, like okee and other gods which had idols and sacrifices. as far as i see, strachey has no theory to serve by inventing ahone. he asks how any races "if descended from the people of the first creation, should maintain so general and gross a defection from the true knowledge of god". he is reduced to suppose that, as descendants of ham, they inherit "the ignorance of true godliness." (p. ). the children of shem and japheth alone "retained, until the coming of the messias, the only knowledge of the eternal and never-changing trinity". the virginians, on the other hand, fell heir to the ignorance, and "fearful and superstitious instinct of nature" of ham (p. ). ahone, therefore, is not invented by strachey to bolster up a theory (held by strachey), of an inherited revelation, or of a sensus numinis which could not go wrong. unless a proof be given that strachey had a theory, or any other purpose, to serve by inventing ahone, i cannot at present come into the opinion that he gratuitously fabled, though he may have unconsciously exaggerated. what were strachey's sources? he was for nine months, if not more, in the colony: he had travelled at least miles up the james river, he occasionally suggests modifications of smith's map, he refers to smith's adventures, and his glossary is very much larger than smith's; its accuracy i leave to american linguists. such a witness, despite his admitted use of smith's text (if it is really all by smith throughout) is not to be despised, and he is not despised in america.( ) strachey, it is true, had not, like smith, been captured by indians and either treated with perfect kindness and consideration (as smith reported at the time), or tied to a tree and threatened with arrows, and laid out to have his head knocked in with a stone; as he alleged sixteen years later! strachey, not being captured, did not owe his release ( ) to the magnanimity of powhattan, ( ) to his own ingenious lies, ( ) to the intercession of pocahontas, as smith, and his friends for him, at various dates inconsistently declared. smith certainly saw more of the natives at home: strachey brought a more studious mind to what he could learn of their customs and ideas; and is not a convicted braggart. i conjecture that one of strachey's sources was a native named kemps. smith had seized kemps and kinsock in . unknown authorities (powell? and todkill?) represent these two savages as "the most exact villaines in the country".( ) they were made to labour in fetters, then were set at liberty, but "little desired it".( ) some "souldiers" ran away to the liberated kemps, who brought them back to smith.( ) why kemps and his friend are called "two of the most exact villains in the country" does not appear. kemps died "of the surveye" (scurvey, probably) at jamestown, in - . he was much made of by lord de la warr, "could speak a pretty deal of our english, and came orderly to church every day to prayers". he gave strachey the names of powhattan's wives, and told him, truly or not, that pocahontas was married, about , to an indian named kocoum.( ) i offer the guess that kemps and machumps, who came and went from pocahontas, and recited an indian prayer which strachey neglected to copy out, may have been among strachey's authorities. i shall, of course, be told that kemps picked up ahone at church. this did not strike strachey as being the fact; he had no opinion of the creed in which ahone was a factor, "the misery and thraldome under which sathan has bound these wretched miscreants". according to strachey, the priests, far from borrowing any part of our faith, "feare and tremble lest the knowledge of god, and of our saviour jesus christ be taught in these parts". ( ) arber, cxvii. strachey mentions that (before his arrival in virginia) pocahontas turned cart-wheels, naked, in jamestown, being then under twelve, and not yet wearing the apron. smith says she was ten in , but does not mention the cart-wheels. later, he found it convenient to put her age at twelve or thirteen in . most american scholars, such as mr. adams, entirely distrust the romantic later narratives of smith. ( ) the proeeedings, etc., by w. s. arber, p. . ( ) ibid., p. . ( ) ibid., p. . ( ) strachey, pp. , . strachey is therefore for putting down the priests, and, like smith (indeed here borrowing from smith), accuses them of sacrificing children. to smith's statement that such a rite was worked at quiyough-cohanock, strachey adds that sir george percy (who was with smith) "was at, and observed" a similar mystery at kecoughtan. it is plain that the rite was not a sacrifice, but a bora, or initiation, and the parallel of the spartan flogging of boys, with the retreat of the boys and their instructors, is very close, and, of course, unnoted by classical scholars except mr. frazer. strachey ends with the critical remark that we shall not know all the certainty of the religion and mysteries till we can capture some of the priests, or quiyough-quisocks. students who have access to a good library of americana may do more to elucidate ahone. i regard him as in a line with kiehtan and the god spoken of by heriot, and do not believe ( ) that strachey lied; ( ) that natives deceived strachey; ( ) that ahone was borrowed from "the god of captain smith". myth, ritual, and religion. chapter i. systems of mythology. definitions of religion--contradictory evidence--"belief in spiritual beings"--objection to mr. tylor's definition--definition as regards this argument--problem: the contradiction between religion and myth--two human moods--examples--case of greece--ancient mythologists--criticism by eusebius--modern mythological systems--mr. max muller--mannhardt. the word "religion" may be, and has been, employed in many different senses, and with a perplexing width of significance. no attempt to define the word is likely to be quite satisfactory, but almost any definition may serve the purpose of an argument, if the writer who employs it states his meaning frankly and adheres to it steadily. an example of the confusions which may arise from the use of the term "religion" is familiar to students. dr. j. d. lang wrote concerning the native races of australia: "they have nothing whatever of the character of religion, or of religious observances, to distinguish them from the beasts that perish". yet in the same book dr. lang published evidence assigning to the natives belief in "turramullun, the chief of demons, who is the author of disease, mischief and wisdom".( ) the belief in a superhuman author of "disease, mischief and wisdom" is certainly a religious belief not conspicuously held by "the beasts"; yet all religion was denied to the australians by the very author who prints (in however erroneous a style) an account of part of their creed. this writer merely inherited the old missionary habit of speaking about the god of a non-christian people as a "demon" or an "evil spirit". ( ) see primitive culture, second edition, i. . dr. lang's negative opinion was contradicted in testimony published by himself, an appendix by the rev. mr. ridley, containing evidence of the belief in baiame. "those who have learned that 'god' is the name by which we speak of the creator, say that baiame is god."( ) ( ) lang's queensland, p. , . as "a minimum definition of religion," mr. tylor has suggested "the belief in spiritual beings". against this it may be urged that, while we have no definite certainty that any race of men is destitute of belief in spiritual beings, yet certain moral and creative deities of low races do not seem to be envisaged as "spiritual" at all. they are regarded as existences, as beings, unconditioned by time, space, or death, and nobody appears to have put the purely metaphysical question, "are these beings spiritual or material?"( ) now, if a race were discovered which believed in such beings, yet had no faith in spirits, that race could not be called irreligious, as it would have to be called in mr. tylor's "minimum definition". almost certainly, no race in this stage of belief in nothing but unconditioned but not expressly spiritual beings is extant. yet such a belief may conceivably have existed before men had developed the theory of spirits at all, and such a belief, in creative and moral unconditioned beings, not alleged to be spiritual, could not be excluded from a definition of religion.( ) ( ) see the making of religion, pp. - . ( ) "the history of the jews, nay, the history of our own mind, proves to demonstration that the thought of god is a far easier thought, and a far earlier, than that of a spirit." father tyrrell, s. j., the month, october, . as to the jews, the question is debated. as to our own infancy, we are certainly taught about god before we are likely to be capable of the metaphysical notion of spirit. but we can scarcely reason from children in christian houses to the infancy of the race. for these reasons we propose (merely for the purpose of the present work) to define religion as the belief in a primal being, a maker, undying, usually moral, without denying that the belief in spiritual beings, even if immoral, may be styled religious. our definition is expressly framed for the purpose of the argument, because that argument endeavours to bring into view the essential conflict between religion and myth. we intend to show that this conflict between the religious and the mythical conception is present, not only (where it has been universally recognised) in the faiths of the ancient civilised peoples, as in greece, rome, india and egypt, but also in the ideas of the lowest known savages. it may, of course, be argued that the belief in creator is itself a myth. however that may be, the attitude of awe, and of moral obedience, in face of such a supposed being, is religious in the sense of the christian religion, whereas the fabrication of fanciful, humorous, and wildly irrational fables about that being, or others, is essentially mythical in the ordinary significance of that word, though not absent from popular christianity. now, the whole crux and puzzle of mythology is, "why, having attained (in whatever way) to a belief in an undying guardian, 'master of life,' did mankind set to work to evolve a chronique scandaleuse about him? and why is that chronique the elaborately absurd set of legends which we find in all mythologies?" in answering, or trying to answer, these questions, we cannot go behind the beliefs of the races now most immersed in savage ignorance. about the psychology of races yet more undeveloped we can have no historical knowledge. among the lowest known tribes we usually find, just as in ancient greece, the belief in a deathless "father," "master," "maker," and also the crowd of humorous, obscene, fanciful myths which are in flagrant contradiction with the religious character of that belief. that belief is what we call rational, and even elevated. the myths, on the other hand, are what we call irrational and debasing. we regard low savages as very irrational and debased characters, consequently the nature of their myths does not surprise us. their religious conception, however, of a "father" or "master of life" seems out of keeping with the nature of the savage mind as we understand it. still, there the religious conception actually is, and it seems to follow that we do not wholly understand the savage mind, or its unknown antecedents. in any case, there the facts are, as shall be demonstrated. however the ancestors of australians, or andamanese, or hurons arrived at their highest religious conception, they decidedly possess it.( ) the development of their mythical conceptions is accounted for by those qualities of their minds which we do understand, and shall illustrate at length. for the present, we can only say that the religious conception uprises from the human intellect in one mood, that of earnest contemplation and submission: while the mythical ideas uprise from another mood, that of playful and erratic fancy. these two moods are conspicuous even in christianity. the former, that of earnest and submissive contemplation, declares itself in prayers, hymns, and "the dim religious light" of cathedrals. the second mood, that of playful and erratic fancy, is conspicuous in the buffoonery of miracle plays, in marchen, these burlesque popular tales about our lord and the apostles, and in the hideous and grotesque sculptures on sacred edifices. the two moods are present, and in conflict, through the whole religious history of the human race. they stand as near each other, and as far apart, as love and lust. ( ) the hypothesis that the conception was borrowed from european creeds will be discussed later. see, too, "are savage gods borrowed from missionaries?" nineteenth century, january, . it will later be shown that even some of the most backward savages make a perhaps half-conscious distinction between their mythology and their religion. as to the former, they are communicative; as to the latter, they jealously guard their secret in sacred mysteries. it is improbable that reflective "black fellows" have been morally shocked by the flagrant contradictions between their religious conceptions and their mythical stories of the divine beings. but human thought could not come into explicit clearness of consciousness without producing the sense of shock and surprise at these contradictions between the religion and the myth of the same god. of this we proceed to give examples. in greece, as early as the sixth century b. c., we are all familiar with xenophanes' poem( ) complaining that the gods were credited with the worst crimes of mortals--in fact, with abominations only known in the orgies of nero and elagabalus. we hear pindar refusing to repeat the tale which told him the blessed were cannibals.( ) in india we read the pious brahmanic attempts to expound decently the myths which made indra the slayer of a brahman; the sinner, that is, of the unpardonable sin. in egypt, too, we study the priestly or philosophic systems by which the clergy strove to strip the burden of absurdity and sacrilege from their own deities. from all these efforts of civilised and pious believers to explain away the stories about their own gods we may infer one fact--the most important to the student of mythology--the fact that myths were not evolved in times of clear civilised thought. it is when greece is just beginning to free her thought from the bondage of too concrete language, when she is striving to coin abstract terms, that her philosophers and poets first find the myths of greece a stumbling-block. ( ) ritter and preller, hist. philos., gothae, , p. . ( ) olympic odes, i., myers's translation: "to me it is impossible to call one of the blessed gods a cannibal.... meet it is for a man that concerning the gods he speak honourably, for the reproach is less. of thee, son of tantalus, i will speak contrariwise to them who have gone before me." in avoiding the story of the cannibal god, however, pindar tells a tale even more offensive to our morality. all early attempts at an interpretation of mythology are so many efforts to explain the myths on some principle which shall seem not unreasonable to men living at the time of the explanation. therefore the pious remonstrances and the forced constructions of early thinkers like xenophanes, of poets like pindar, of all ancient homeric scholars and pagan apologists, from theagenes of rhegium ( b. c.), the early homeric commentator, to porphyry, almost the last of the heathen philosophers, are so many proofs that to greece, as soon as she had a reflective literature, the myths of greece seemed impious and irrational. the essays of the native commentators on the veda, in the same way, are endeavours to put into myths felt to be irrational and impious a meaning which does not offend either piety or reason. we may therefore conclude that it was not men in an early stage of philosophic thought (as philosophy is now understood)--not men like empedocles and heraclitus, nor reasonably devout men like eumaeus, the pious swineherd of the odyssey--who evolved the blasphemous myths of greece, of egypt and of india. we must look elsewhere for an explanation. we must try to discover some actual and demonstrable and widely prevalent condition of the human mind, in which tales that even to remote and rudimentary civilisations appeared irrational and unnatural would seem natural and rational. to discover this intellectual condition has been the aim of all mythologists who did not believe that myth is a divine tradition depraved by human weakness, or a distorted version of historical events. before going further, it is desirable to set forth what our aim is, and to what extent we are seeking an interpretation of mythology. it is not our purpose to explain every detail of every ancient legend, either as a distorted historical fact or as the result of this or that confusion of thought caused by forgetfulness of the meanings of language, or in any other way; nay, we must constantly protest against the excursions of too venturesome ingenuity. myth is so ancient, so complex, so full of elements, that it is vain labour to seek a cause for every phenomenon. we are chiefly occupied with the quest for an historical condition of the human intellect to which the element in myths, regarded by us as irrational, shall seem rational enough. if we can prove that such a state of mind widely exists among men, and has existed, that state of mind may be provisionally considered as the fount and origin of the myths which have always perplexed men in a reasonable modern mental condition. again, if it can be shown that this mental stage was one through which all civilised races have passed, the universality of the mythopoeic mental condition will to some extent explain the universal diffusion of the stories. now, in all mythologies, whether savage or civilised, and in all religions where myths intrude, there exist two factors--the factor which we now regard as rational, and that which we moderns regard as irrational. the former element needs little explanation; the latter has demanded explanation ever since human thought became comparatively instructed and abstract. to take an example; even in the myths of savages there is much that still seems rational and transparent. if savages tell us that some wise being taught them all the simple arts of life, the use of fire, of the bow and arrow, the barbing of hooks, and so forth, we understand them at once. nothing can be more natural than that man should believe in an original inventor of the arts, and should tell tales about the imaginary discoverers if the real heroes be forgotten. so far all is plain sailing. but when the savage goes on to say that he who taught the use of fire or who gave the first marriage laws was a rabbit or a crow, or a dog, or a beaver, or a spider, then we are at once face to face with the element in myths which seems to us irrational. again, among civilised peoples we read of the pure all-seeing varuna in the vedas, to whom sin is an offence. we read of indra, the lord of thunder, borne in his chariot, the giver of victory, the giver of wealth to the pious; here once more all seems natural and plain. the notion of a deity who guides the whirlwind and directs the storm, a god of battles, a god who blesses righteousness, is familiar to us and intelligible; but when we read how indra drank himself drunk and committed adulteries with asura women, and got himself born from the same womb as a bull, and changed himself into a quail or a ram, and suffered from the most abject physical terror, and so forth, then we are among myths no longer readily intelligible; here, we feel, are irrational stories, of which the original ideas, in their natural sense, can hardly have been conceived by men in a pure and rational early civilisation. again, in the religions of even the lowest races, such myths as these are in contradiction with the ethical elements of the faith. if we look at greek religious tradition, we observe the coexistence of the rational and the apparently irrational elements. the rational myths are those which represent the gods as beautiful and wise beings. the artemis of the odyssey "taking her pastime in the chase of boars and swift deer, while with her the wild wood-nymphs disport them, and high over them all she rears her brow, and is easily to be known where all are fair,"( ) is a perfectly rational mythic representation of a divine being. we feel, even now, that the conception of a "queen and goddess, chaste and fair," the abbess, as paul de saint-victor calls her, of the woodlands, is a beautiful and natural fancy, which requires no explanation. on the other hand, the artemis of arcadia, who is confused with the nymph callisto, who, again, is said to have become a she-bear, and later a star; and the brauronian artemis, whose maiden ministers danced a bear-dance,( ) are goddesses whose legend seems unnatural, and needs to be made intelligible. or, again, there is nothing not explicable and natural in the conception of the olympian zeus as represented by the great chryselephantine statue of zeus at olympia, or in the homeric conception of zeus as a god who "turns everywhere his shining eyes, and beholds all things, and protects the righteous, and deals good or evil fortune to men." but the zeus whose grave was shown in crete, or the zeus who played demeter an obscene trick by the aid of a ram, or the zeus who, in the shape of a swan, became the father of castor and pollux, or the zeus who deceived hera by means of a feigned marriage with an inanimate object, or the zeus who was afraid of attes, or the zeus who made love to women in the shape of an ant or a cuckoo, is a being whose myth is felt to be unnatural and bewildering.( ) it is this irrational and unnatural element, as mr. max muller says, "the silly, senseless, and savage element," that makes mythology the puzzle which men have so long found it. for, observe, greek myth does not represent merely a humorous play of fancy, dealing with things religiously sacred as if by way of relief from the strained reverential contemplation of the majesty of zeus. many stories of greek mythology are such as could not cross, for the first time, the mind of a civilised xenophanes or theagenes, even in a dream. this was the real puzzle. ( ) odyssey, vi. . ( ) (greek word omitted); compare harpokration on this word. ( ) these are the features in myth which provoke, for example, the wonder of emeric-david. "the lizard, the wolf, the dog, the ass, the frog, and all the other brutes so common on religious monuments everywhere, do they not all imply a thought which we must divine?" he concludes that these animals, plants, and monsters of myths are so many "enigmas" and "symbols" veiling some deep, sacred idea, allegories of some esoteric religious creed. jupiter, paris, , p. lxxvii. we have offered examples--savage, indian, and greek--of that element in mythology which, as all civilised races have felt, demands explanation. to be still more explicit, we may draw up a brief list of the chief problems in the legendary stories attached to the old religions of the world--the problems which it is our special purpose to notice. first we have, in the myths of all races, the most grotesque conceptions of the character of gods when mythically envisaged. beings who, in religion, leave little to be desired, and are spoken of as holy, immortal, omniscient, and kindly, are, in myth, represented as fashioned in the likeness not only of man, but of the beasts; as subject to death, as ignorant and impious. most pre-christian religions had their "zoomorphic" or partially zoomorphic idols, gods in the shape of the lower animals, or with the heads and necks of the lower animals. in the same way all mythologies represent the gods as fond of appearing in animal forms. under these disguises they conduct many amours, even with the daughters of men, and greek houses were proud of their descent from zeus in the shape of an eagle or ant, a serpent or a swan; while cronus and the vedic tvashtri and poseidon made love as horses, and apollo as a dog. not less wild are the legends about the births of gods from the thigh, or the head, or feet, or armpits of some parent; while tales describing and pictures representing unspeakable divine obscenities were frequent in the mythology and in the temples of greece. once more, the gods were said to possess and exercise the power of turning men and women into birds, beasts, fishes, trees, and stones, so that there was scarcely a familiar natural object in the greek world which had not once (according to legend) been a man or a woman. the myths of the origin of the world and man, again, were in the last degree childish and disgusting. the bushmen and australians have, perhaps, no story of the origin of species quite so barbarous in style as the anecdotes about phanes and prajapati which are preserved in the orphic hymns and in the brahmanas. the conduct of the earlier dynasties of classical gods towards each other was as notoriously cruel and loathsome as their behaviour towards mortals was tricksy and capricious. the classical gods, with all their immortal might, are, by a mythical contradiction of the religious conception, regarded as capable of fear and pain, and are led into scrapes as ludicrous as those of brer wolf or brer terrapin in the tales of the negroes of the southern states of america. the stars, again, in mythology, are mixed up with beasts, planets and men in the same embroglio of fantastic opinion. the dead and the living, men, beasts and gods, trees and stars, and rivers, and sun, and moon, dance through the region of myths in a burlesque ballet of priapus, where everything may be anything, where nature has no laws and imagination no limits. such are the irrational characteristics of myths, classic or indian, european or american, african or asiatic, australian or maori. such is one element we find all the world over among civilised and savage people, quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus. it is no wonder that pious and reflective men have, in so many ages and in so many ways, tried to account to themselves for their possession of beliefs closely connected with religion which yet seemed ruinous to religion and morality. the explanations which men have given of their own sacred stories, the apologies for their own gods which they have been constrained to offer to themselves, were the earliest babblings of a science of mythology. that science was, in its dim beginnings, intended to satisfy a moral need. man found that his gods, when mythically envisaged, were not made in his own moral image at its best, but in the image sometimes of the beasts, sometimes of his own moral nature at its very worst: in the likeness of robbers, wizards, sorcerers, and adulterers. now, it is impossible here to examine minutely all systems of mythological interpretation. every key has been tried in this difficult lock; every cause of confusion has been taken up and tested, deemed adequate, and finally rejected or assigned a subordinate place. probably the first attempts to shake off the burden of religious horror at mythical impiety were made by way of silent omission. thus most of the foulest myths of early india are absent, and presumably were left out, in the rig-veda. "the religious sentiment of the hymns, already so elevated, has discarded most of the tales which offended it, but has not succeeded in discarding them all."( ) just as the poets of the rig-veda prefer to avoid the more offensive traditions about indra and tvashtri, so homer succeeds in avoiding the more grotesque and puerile tales about his own gods.( ) the period of actual apology comes later. pindar declines, as we have seen, to accuse a god of cannibalism. the satapatha brahmana invents a new story about the slaying of visvarupa. not indra, but trita, says the brahmana apologetically, slew the three-headed son of tvashtri. "indra assuredly was free from that sin, for he is a god," says the indian apologist.( ) yet sins which to us appear far more monstrous than the peccadillo of killing a three-headed brahman are attributed freely to indra. ( ) les religions de l'inde, barth, p. . see also postea, "indian myths". ( ) the reasons for homer's reticence are probably different in different passages. perhaps in some cases he had heard a purer version of myth than what reached hesiod; perhaps he sometimes purposely (like pindar) purified a myth; usually he must have selected, in conformity with the noble humanity and purity of his taste, the tales that best conformed to his ideal. he makes his deities reluctant to drag out in dispute old scandals of their early unheroic adventures, some of which, however, he gives, as the kicking of hephaestus out of heaven, and the imprisonment of ares in a vessel of bronze. compare professor jebb's homer, p. : "whatever the instinct of the great artist has tolerated, at least it has purged these things away." that is, divine amours in bestial form. ( ) satapatha brahmana, oxford, , vol. i. p. . while poets could but omit a blasphemous tale or sketch an apology in passing, it became the business of philosophers and of antiquarian writers deliberately to "whitewash" the gods of popular religion. systematic explanations of the sacred stories, whether as preserved in poetry or as told by priests, had to be provided. india had her etymological and her legendary school of mythology.( ) thus, while the hymn seemed to tell how the maruts were gods, "born together with the spotted deer," the etymological interpreters explained that the word for deer only meant the many-coloured lines of clouds.( ) in the armoury of apologetics etymology has been the most serviceable weapon. it is easy to see that by aid of etymology the most repulsive legend may be compelled to yield a pure or harmless sense, and may be explained as an innocent blunder, caused by mere verbal misunderstanding. brahmans, greeks, and germans have equally found comfort in this hypothesis. in the cratylus of plato, socrates speaks of the notion of explaining myths by etymological guesses at the meaning of divine names as "a philosophy which came to him all in an instant". thus we find socrates shocked by the irreverence which styled zeus the son of cronus, "who is a proverb for stupidity". but on examining philologically the name kronos, socrates decides that it must really mean koros, "not in the sense of a youth, but signifying the pure and garnished mind". therefore, when people first called zeus the son of cronus, they meant nothing irreverent, but only that zeus is the child of the pure mind or pure reason. not only is this etymological system most pious and consolatory, but it is, as socrates adds, of universal application. "for now i bethink me of a very new and ingenious notion,... that we may put in and pull out letters at pleasure, and alter the accents."( ) ( ) rig-veda sanhita. max muller, p. . ( ) postea, "indian divine myths". ( ) jowett's plato, vol. i. pp. , . socrates, of course, speaks more than half in irony, but there is a certain truth in his account of etymological analysis and its dependence on individual tastes and preconceived theory. the ancient classical schools of mythological interpretation, though unscientific and unsuccessful, are not without interest. we find philosophers and grammarians looking, just as we ourselves are looking, for some condition of the human intellect out of which the absurd element in myths might conceivably have sprung. very naturally the philosophers supposed that the human beings in whose brain and speech myths had their origin must have been philosophers like themselves--intelligent, educated persons. but such persons, they argued, could never have meant to tell stories about the gods so full of nonsense and blasphemy. therefore the nonsense and blasphemy must originally have had some harmless, or even praiseworthy, sense. what could that sense have been? this question each ancient mythologist answered in accordance with his own taste and prejudices, and above all, and like all other and later speculators, in harmony with the general tendency of his own studies. if he lived when physical speculation was coming into fashion, as in the age of empedocles, he thought that the homeric poems must contain a veiled account of physical philosophy. this was the opinion of theagenes of rhegium, who wrote at a period when a crude physicism was disengaging itself from the earlier religious and mythical cosmogonic systems of greece. theagenes was shocked by the homeric description of the battle in which the gods fought as allies of the achaeans and trojans. he therefore explained away the affair as a veiled account of the strife of the elements. such "strife" was familiar to readers of the physical speculations of empedocles and of heraclitus, who blamed homer for his prayer against strife.( ) ( ) is. et osir., . it did not occur to theagenes to ask whether any evidence existed to show that the pre-homeric greeks were empedoclean or heraclitean philosophers. he readily proved to himself that apollo, helios, and hephaestus were allegorical representations, like what such philosophers would feign,--of fire, that hera was air, poseidon water, artemis the moon, and the rest he disposed of in the same fashion.( ) ( ) scholia on iliad, xx. . dindorf ( ), vol. iv. p. . "this manner of apologetics is as old as theagenes of rhegium. homer offers theological doctrine in the guise of physical allegory." metrodorus, again, turned not only the gods, but the homeric heroes into "elemental combinations and physical agencies"; for there is nothing new in the mythological philosophy recently popular, which saw the sun, and the cloud, and the wind in achilles, athene, and hermes.( ) ( ) grote, hist, of greece, ed. , i. p. . in the bacchae ( - ), euripides puts another of the mythological systems of his own time into the mouth of cadmus, the theban king, who advances a philological explanation of the story that dionysus was sewn up in the thigh of zeus. the most famous of the later theories was that of euhemerus ( b.c.). in a kind of philosophical romance, euhemerus declared that he had sailed to some no-man's-land, panchaea, where he found the verity about mythical times engraved on pillars of bronze. this truth he published in the sacra historia, where he rationalised the fables, averring that the gods had been men, and that the myths were exaggerated and distorted records of facts. (see eusebius, praep. e., ii .) the abbe banier (la mythologie expliquee par l'histoire, paris, , vol. ii. p. ) attempts the defence of euhemerus, whom most of the ancients regarded as an atheist. there was an element of truth in his romantic hypothesis.( ) ( ) see block, euhemere et sa doctrine, mons, . sometimes the old stories were said to conceal a moral, sometimes a physical, sometimes a mystical or neo-platonic sort of meaning. as every apologist interpreted the legends in his own fashion, the interpretations usually disagreed and killed each other. just as one modern mythologist sees the wind in aeetes and the dawn in medea, while another of the same school believes, on equally good evidence, that both aeetes and medea are the moon, so writers like porphyry ( a. d.) and plutarch ( a. d.) made the ancient deities types of their own favourite doctrines, whatever these might happen to be. when christianity became powerful, the christian writers naturally attacked heathen religion where it was most vulnerable, on the side of the myths, and of the mysteries which were dramatic representations of the myths. "pretty gods you worship," said the fathers, in effect, "homicides, adulterers, bulls, bears, mice, ants, and what not." the heathen apologists for the old religion were thus driven in the early ages of christianity to various methods of explaining away the myths of their discredited religion. the early christian writers very easily, and with considerable argumentative power, disposed of the apologies for the myths advanced by porphyry and plutarch. thus eusebius in the praeparatio evangelica first attacks the egyptian interpretations of their own bestial or semi-bestial gods. he shows that the various interpretations destroy each other, and goes on to point out that greek myth is in essence only a veneered and varnished version of the faith of egypt. he ridicules, with a good deal of humour, the old theories which resolved so many mythical heroes into the sun; he shows that while one system is contented to regard zeus as mere fire and air, another system recognises in him the higher reason, while heracles, dionysus, apollo, and asclepius, father and child, are all indifferently the sun. granting that the myth-makers were only constructing physical allegories, why did they wrap them up, asks eusebius, in what we consider abominable fictions? in what state were the people who could not look at the pure processes of nature without being reminded of the most hideous and unnatural offences? once more: "the physical interpreters do not even agree in their physical interpretations". all these are equally facile, equally plausible, and equally incapable of proof. again, eusebius argues, the interpreters take for granted in the makers of the myths an amount of physical knowledge which they certainly did not possess. for example, if leto were only another name for hera, the character of zeus would be cleared as far as his amour with leto is concerned. now, the ancient believers in the "physical phenomena theory" of myths made out that hera, the wife of zeus, was really the same person under another name as leto, his mistress. "for hera is the earth" (they said at other times that hera was the air), "and leto is the night; but night is only the shadow of the earth, and therefore leto is only the shadow of hera." it was easy, however, to prove that this scientific view of night as the shadow of earth was not likely to be known to myth-makers, who regarded "swift night" as an actual person. plutarch, too, had an abstruse theory to explain the legend about the dummy wife,--a log of oak-wood, which zeus pretended to marry when at variance with hera.( ) ( ) pausanias, ix. . this quarrel, he said, was merely the confusion and strife of elements. zeus was heat, hera was cold (she had already been explained as earth and air), the dummy wife of oak-wood was a tree that emerged after a flood, and so forth. of course, there was no evidence that mythopoeic men held plutarchian theories of heat and cold and the conflict of the elements; besides, as eusebius pointed out, hera had already been defined once as an allegory of wedded life, and once as the earth, and again as the air, and it was rather too late to assert that she was also the cold and watery element in the world. as for his own explanation of the myths, eusebius holds that they descend from a period when men in their lawless barbarism knew no better than to tell such tales. "ancient folk, in the exceeding savagery of their lives, made no account of god, the universal creator (here eusebius is probably wrong)... but betook them to all manner of abominations. for the laws of decent existence were not yet established, nor was any settled and peaceful state ordained among men, but only a loose and savage fashion of wandering life, while, as beasts irrational, they cared for no more than to fill their bellies, being in a manner without god in the world." growing a little more civilised, men, according to eusebius, sought after something divine, which they found in the heavenly bodies. later, they fell to worshipping living persons, especially "medicine men" and conjurors, and continued to worship them even after their decease, so that greek temples are really tombs of the dead.( ) finally, the civilised ancients, with a conservative reluctance to abandon their old myths (greek text omitted), invented for them moral or physical explanations, like those of plutarch and others, earlier and later.( ) ( ) praep. e., ii. . ( ) ibid., , . as eusebius, like clemens of alexandria, arnobius, and the other early christian disputants, had no prejudice in favour of hellenic mythology, and no sentimental reason for wishing to suppose that the origin of its impurities was pure, he found his way almost to the theory of the irrational element in mythology which we propose to offer. even to sketch the history of mythological hypothesis in modern times would require a book to itself. it must suffice here to indicate the various lines which speculation as to mythology has pursued. all interpretations of myth have been formed in accordance with the ideas prevalent in the time of the interpreters. the early greek physicists thought that mythopoeic men had been physicists. aristotle hints that they were (like himself) political philosophers.( ) neo-platonists sought in the myths for neo-platonism; most christians (unlike eusebius) either sided with euhemerus, or found in myth the inventions of devils, or a tarnished and distorted memory of the biblical revelation. ( ) met., xi. , . this was the theory, for example, of good old jacob bryant, who saw everywhere memories of the noachian deluge and proofs of the correctness of old testament ethnology.( ) ( ) bryant, a new system, wherein an attempt is made to divest tradition of fable, . much the same attempt to find the biblical truth at the bottom of savage and ancient fable has been recently made by the late m. lenormant, a catholic scholar.( ) ( ) les origines de l'histoire d'apres le bible, - . in the beginning of the present century germany turned her attention to mythology. as usual, men's ideas were biassed by the general nature of their opinions. in a pious kind of spirit, friedrich creuzer sought to find symbols of some pure, early, and oriental theosophy in the myths and mysteries of greece. certainly the greeks of the philosophical period explained their own myths as symbols of higher things, but the explanation was an after-thought.( ) the great lobeck, in his aglaophamus ( ), brought back common sense, and made it the guide of his vast, his unequalled learning. in a gentler and more genial spirit, c. otfried muller laid the foundation of a truly scientific and historical mythology.( ) neither of these writers had, like alfred maury,( ) much knowledge of the myths and faiths of the lower races, but they often seem on the point of anticipating the ethnological method. ( ) creuzer, symbolik und mythologie, d edit., leipzig, - . ( ) introduction to a scientific system of mythology, english trans., london, . ( ) histoire des religions de la grece antique, paris, . when philological science in our own century came to maturity, in philology, as of old in physics and later in symbols, was sought the key of myths. while physical allegory, religious and esoteric symbolism, verbal confusion, historical legend, and an original divine tradition, perverted in ages of darkness, have been the most popular keys in other ages, the scientific nineteenth century has had a philological key of its own. the methods of kuhn, breal, max muller, and generally the philological method, cannot be examined here at full length.( ) briefly speaking, the modern philological method is intended for a scientific application of the old etymological interpretations. cadmus in the bacchae of euripides, socrates in the cratylus of plato, dismiss unpalatable myths as the results of verbal confusion. people had originally said something quite sensible--so the hypothesis runs--but when their descendants forgot the meaning of their remarks, a new and absurd meaning followed from a series of unconscious puns.( ) this view was supported in ancient times by purely conjectural and impossible etymologies. thus the myth that dionysus was sewn up in the thigh of zeus (greek text omitted) was explained by euripides as the result of a confusion of words. people had originally said that zeus gave a pledge (greek text omitted) to hera. the modern philological school relies for explanations of untoward and other myths on similar confusions. thus daphne is said to have been originally not a girl of romance, but the dawn (sanskirt, dahana: ahana) pursued by the rising sun. but as the original aryan sense of dahana or ahana was lost, and as daphne came to mean the laurel--the wood which burns easily--the fable arose that the tree had been a girl called daphne.( ) ( ) see mythology in encyclop. brit. and in la mythologie (a. l.), paris, , where mr. max muller's system is criticised. see also custom and myth and modern mythology. ( ) that a considerable number of myths, chiefly myths of place names, arise from popular etymologies is certain: what is objected to is the vast proportion given to this element in myths. ( ) max muller, nineteenth century, december, ; "solar myths," january, ; myths and mythologists (a. l). whitney, mannhardt, bergaigne, and others dispute the etymology. or. and ling. studies, , p. ; mannhardt, antike wald und feld kultus (berlin, ), p. xx.; bergaigne, la religion vedique, iii. ; nor does curtius like it much, principles of greek etymology, english trans., ii. , ; modern mythology (a. l.), . this system chiefly rests on comparison between the sanskrit names in the rig-veda and the mythic names in greek, german, slavonic, and other aryan legends. the attempt is made to prove that, in the common speech of the undivided aryan race, many words for splendid or glowing natural phenomena existed, and that natural processes were described in a figurative style. as the various aryan families separated, the sense of the old words and names became dim, the nomina developed into numina, the names into gods, the descriptions of elemental processes into myths. as this system has already been criticised by us elsewhere with minute attention, a reference to these reviews must suffice in this place. briefly, it may be stated that the various masters of the school--kuhn, max muller, roth, schwartz, and the rest--rarely agree where agreement is essential, that is, in the philological foundations of their building. they differ in very many of the etymological analyses of mythical names. they also differ in the interpretations they put on the names, kuhn almost invariably seeing fire, storm, cloud, or lightning where mr. max muller sees the chaste dawn. thus mannhardt, after having been a disciple, is obliged to say that comparative indo-germanic mythology has not borne the fruit expected, and that "the certain gains of the system reduce themselves to the scantiest list of parallels, such as dyaus = zeus = tius, parjanya = perkunas, bhaga = bog, varuna = uranos" (a position much disputed), etc. mannhardt adds his belief that a number of other "equations"--such as sarameya = hermeias, saranyus = demeter erinnys, kentauros = gandharva, and many others--will not stand criticism, and he fears that these ingenious guesses will prove mere jeux d'esprit rather than actual facts.( ) many examples of the precarious and contradictory character of the results of philological mythology, many instances of "dubious etymologies," false logic, leaps at foregone conclusions, and attempts to make what is peculiarly indian in thought into matter of universal application, will meet us in the chapters on indian and greek divine legends.( ) "the method in its practical working shows a fundamental lack of the historical sense," says mannhardt. examples are torn from their contexts, he observes; historical evolution is neglected; passages of the veda, themselves totally obscure, are dragged forward to account for obscure greek mythical phenomena. such are the accusations brought by the regretted mannhardt against the school to which he originally belonged, and which was popular and all-powerful even in the maturity of his own more clear-sighted genius. proofs of the correctness of his criticism will be offered abundantly in the course of this work. it will become evident that, great as are the acquisitions of philology, her least certain discoveries have been too hastily applied in alien "matter," that is, in the region of myth. not that philology is wholly without place or part in the investigation of myth, when there is agreement among philologists as to the meaning of a divine name. in that case a certain amount of light is thrown on the legend of the bearer of the name, and on its origin and first home, aryan, greek, semitic, or the like. but how rare is agreement among philologists! ( ) baum und feld kultus, p. xvii. kuhn's "epoch-making" book is die herabkunft des feuers, berlin, . by way of example of the disputes as to the original meaning of a name like prometheus, compare memoires de la societe de linguistique de paris, t. iv. p. . ( ) see especially mannhardt's note on kuhn's theories of poseidon and hermes, b. u. f. k., pp. xviii., xix., note . "the philological method," says professor tiele,( ) "is inadequate and misleading, when it is a question of discovering the origin of a myth, or the physical explanation of the oldest myths, or of accounting for the rude and obscene element in the divine legends of civilised races. but these are not the only problems of mythology. there is, for example, the question of the genealogical relations of myths, where we have to determine whether the myths of peoples whose speech is of the same family are special modifications of a mythology once common to the race whence these peoples have sprung. the philological method alone can answer here." but this will seem a very limited province when we find that almost all races, however remote and unconnected in speech, have practically much the same myths. ( ) rev. de l'hist. des rel., xii. , , nov., dec., . chapter ii. new system proposed. chap. i. recapitulated--proposal of a new method: science of comparative or historical study of man--anticipated in part by eusebius, fontenelle, de brosses, spencer (of c. c. c., cambridge), and mannhardt--science of tylor--object of inquiry: to find condition of human intellect in which marvels of myth are parts of practical everyday belief--this is the savage state--savages described--the wild element of myth a survival from the savage state--advantages of this method--partly accounts for wide diffusion as well as origin of myths--connected with general theory of evolution--puzzling example of myth of the water-swallower--professor tiele's criticism of the method--objections to method, and answer to these--see appendix b. the past systems of mythological interpretation have been briefly sketched. it has been shown that the practical need for a reconciliation between religion and morality on one side, and the myths about the gods on the other, produced the hypotheses of theagenes and metrodorus, of socrates and euemerus, of aristotle and plutarch. it has been shown that in each case the reconcilers argued on the basis of their own ideas and of the philosophies of their time. the early physicist thought that myth concealed a physical philosophy; the early etymologist saw in it a confusion of language; the early political speculator supposed that myth was an invention of legislators; the literary euhemerus found the secret of myths in the course of an imaginary voyage to a fabled island. then came the moment of the christian attacks, and pagan philosophers, touched with oriental pantheism, recognised in myths certain pantheistic symbols and a cryptic revelation of their own neo-platonism. when the gods were dead and their altars fallen, then antiquaries brought their curiosity to the problem of explaining myth. christians recognised in it a depraved version of the jewish sacred writings, and found the ark on every mountain-top of greece. the critical nineteenth century brought in, with otfried muller and lobeck, a closer analysis; and finally, in the sudden rise of comparative philology, it chanced that philologists annexed the domain of myths. each of these systems had its own amount of truth, but each certainly failed to unravel the whole web of tradition and of foolish faith. meantime a new science has come into existence, the science which studies man in the sum of all his works and thoughts, as evolved through the whole process of his development. this science, comparative anthropology, examines the development of law out of custom; the development of weapons from the stick or stone to the latest repeating rifle; the development of society from the horde to the nation. it is a study which does not despise the most backward nor degraded tribe, nor neglect the most civilised, and it frequently finds in australians or nootkas the germ of ideas and institutions which greeks or romans brought to perfection, or retained, little altered from their early rudeness, in the midst of civilisation. it is inevitable that this science should also try its hand on mythology. our purpose is to employ the anthropological method--the study of the evolution of ideas, from the savage to the barbarous, and thence to the civilised stage--in the province of myth, ritual, and religion. it has been shown that the light of this method had dawned on eusebius in his polemic with the heathen apologists. spencer, the head of corpus, cambridge ( - ), had really no other scheme in his mind in his erudite work on hebrew ritual.( ) spencer was a student of man's religions generally, and he came to the conclusion that hebrew ritual was but an expurgated, and, so to speak, divinely "licensed" adaptation of heathen customs at large. we do but follow his guidance on less perilous ground when we seek for the original forms of classical rite and myth in the parallel usages and legends of the most backward races. ( ) de legibus hebraeorum ritualibus, tubingae, . fontenelle in the last century, stated, with all the clearness of the french intellect, the system which is partially worked out in this essay--the system which explains the irrational element in myth as inherited from savagery. fontenelle's paper (sur l'origine des fables) is brief, sensible, and witty, and requires little but copious evidence to make it adequate. but he merely threw out the idea, and left it to be neglected.( ) ( ) see appendix a., fontenelle's origine des fables. among other founders of the anthropological or historical school of mythology, de brosses should not be forgotten. in his dieux fetiches ( ) he follows the path which eusebius indicated--the path of spencer and fontenelle--now the beaten road of tylor and m'lennan and mannhardt. in anthropology, in the science of waitz, tylor, and m'lennan, in the examination of man's faith in the light of his social, legal, and historical conditions generally, we find, with mannhardt, some of the keys of myth. this science "makes it manifest that the different stages through which humanity has passed in its intellectual evolution have still their living representatives among various existing races. the study of these lower races is an invaluable instrument for the interpretation of the survivals from earlier stages, which we meet in the full civilisation of cultivated peoples, but whose origins were in the remotest fetichism and savagery."( ) ( ) mannhardt op. cit. p. xxiii. it is by following this road, and by the aid of anthropology and of human history, that we propose to seek for a demonstrably actual condition of the human intellect, whereof the puzzling qualities of myth would be the natural and inevitable fruit. in all the earlier theories which we have sketched, inquirers took it for granted that the myth-makers were men with philosophic and moral ideas like their own--ideas which, from some reason of religion or state, they expressed in bizarre terms of allegory. we shall attempt, on the other hand, to prove that the human mind has passed through a condition quite unlike that of civilised men--a condition in which things seemed natural and rational that now appear unnatural and devoid of reason, and in which, therefore, if myths were evolved, they would, if they survived into civilisation, be such as civilised men find strange and perplexing. our first question will be, is there a stage of human society and of the human intellect in which facts that appear to us to be monstrous and irrational--facts corresponding to the wilder incidents of myth--are accepted as ordinary occurrences of everyday life? in the region of romantic rather than of mythical invention we know that there is such a state. mr. lane, in his preface to the arabian nights, says that the arabs have an advantage over us as story-tellers. they can introduce such incidents as the change of a man into a horse, or of a woman into a dog, or the intervention of an afreet without any more scruple than our own novelists feel in describing a duel or the concealment of a will. among the arabs the agencies of magic and of spirits are regarded as at least as probable and common as duels and concealments of wills seem to be thought by european novelists. it is obvious that we need look no farther for the explanation of the supernatural events in arab romances. now, let us apply this system to mythology. it is admitted that greeks, romans, aryans of india in the age of the sanskrit commentators, and egyptians of the ptolemaic and earlier ages, were as much puzzled as we are by the mythical adventures of their gods. but is there any known stage of the human intellect in which similar adventures, and the metamorphoses of men into animals, trees, stars, and all else that puzzles us in the civilised mythologies, are regarded as possible incidents of daily human life? our answer is, that everything in the civilised mythologies which we regard as irrational seems only part of the accepted and natural order of things to contemporary savages, and in the past seemed equally rational and natural to savages concerning whom we have historical information.( ) our theory is, therefore, that the savage and senseless element in mythology is, for the most part, a legacy from the fancy of ancestors of the civilised races who were once in an intellectual state not higher, but probably lower, than that of australians, bush-men, red indians, the lower races of south america, and other worse than barbaric peoples. as the ancestors of the greeks, aryans of india, egyptians and others advanced in civilisation, their religious thought was shocked and surprised by myths (originally dating from the period of savagery, and natural in that period, though even then often in contradiction to morals and religion) which were preserved down to the time of pausanias by local priesthoods, or which were stereotyped in the ancient poems of hesiod and homer, or in the brahmanas and vedas of india, or were retained in the popular religion of egypt. this theory recommended itself to lobeck. "we may believe that ancient and early tribes framed gods like unto themselves in action and in experience, and that the allegorical softening down of myths is the explanation added later by descendants who had attained to purer ideas of divinity, yet dared not reject the religion of their ancestors."( ) the senseless element in the myths would, by this theory, be for the most part a "survival"; and the age and condition of human thought whence it survived would be one in which our most ordinary ideas about the nature of things and the limits of possibility did not yet exist, when all things were conceived of in quite other fashion; the age, that is, of savagery. ( ) we have been asked to define a savage. he cannot be defined in an epigram, but by way of choice of a type:-- . in material equipment the perfect savage is he who employs tools of stone and wood, not of metal; who is nomadic rather than settled; who is acquainted (if at all) only with the rudest forms of the arts of potting, weaving, fire-making, etc.; and who derives more of his food from the chase and from wild roots and plants than from any kind of agriculture or from the flesh of domesticated animals. . in psychology the savage is he who (extending unconsciously to the universe his own implicit consciousness of personality) regards all natural objects as animated and intelligent beings, and, drawing no hard and fast line between himself and the things in the world, is readily persuaded that men may be metamorphosed into plants, beasts and stars; that winds and clouds, sun and dawn, are persons with human passions and parts; and that the lower animals especially may be creatures more powerful than himself, and, in a sense, divine and creative. . in religion the savage is he who (while often, in certain moods, conscious of a far higher moral faith) believes also in ancestral ghosts or spirits of woods and wells that were never ancestral; prays frequently by dint of magic; and sometimes adores inanimate objects, or even appeals to the beasts as supernatural protectors. . in society the savage is he who (as a rule) bases his laws on the well-defined lines of totemism--that is, claims descent from or other close relation to natural objects, and derives from the sacredness of those objects the sanction of his marriage prohibitions and blood-feuds, while he makes skill in magic a claim to distinguished rank. such, for our purpose, is the savage, and we propose to explain the more "senseless" factors in civilised mythology as "survivals" of these ideas and customs preserved by conservatism and local tradition, or, less probably, borrowed from races which were, or had been, savage. ( ) aglaoph., i. . had lobeck gone a step farther and examined the mental condition of veteres et priscae gentes, this book would have been, superfluous. nor did he know that the purer ideas were also existing among certain low savages. it is universally admitted that "survivals" of this kind do account for many anomalies in our institutions, in law, politics, society, even in dress and manners. if isolated fragments of earlier ages abide in these, it is still more probable that other fragments will survive in anything so closely connected as is mythology with the conservative religious sentiment and tradition. our object, then, is to prove that the "silly, savage, and irrational" element in the myths of civilised peoples is, as a rule, either a survival from the period of savagery, or has been borrowed from savage neighbours by a cultivated people, or, lastly, is an imitation by later poets of old savage data.( ) for example, to explain the constellations as metamorphosed men, animals, or other objects of terrestrial life is the habit of savages,( )--a natural habit among people who regard all things as on one level of personal life and intelligence. when the stars, among civilised greeks or aryans of india, are also popularly regarded as transformed and transfigured men, animals and the like, this belief may be either a survival from the age when the ancestors of greeks and indians were in the intellectual condition of the australian murri; or the star-name and star-myth may have been borrowed from savages, or from cultivated peoples once savage or apt to copy savages; or, as in the case of the coma berenices, a poet of a late age may have invented a new artificial myth on the old lines of savage fancy. ( ) we may be asked why do savages entertain the irrational ideas which survive in myth? one might as well ask why they eat each other, or use stones instead of metal. their intellectual powers are not fully developed, and hasty analogy from their own unreasoned consciousness is their chief guide. myth, in mr. darwin's phrase, is one of the "miserable and indirect consequences of our highest faculties". descent of man, p. . ( ) see custom and myth, "star-myths". this method of interpreting a certain element in mythology is, we must repeat, no new thing, though, to judge from the protests of several mythologists, it is new to many inquirers. we have seen that eusebius threw out proposals in this direction; that spencer, de brosses, and fontenelle unconsciously followed him; and we have quoted from lobeck a statement of a similar opinion. the whole matter has been stated as clearly as possible by mr. b. b. tylor:-- "savages have been for untold ages, and still are, living in the myth-making stage of the human mind. it was through sheer ignorance and neglect of this direct knowledge how and by what manner of men myths are really made that their simple philosophy has come to be buried under masses of commentator's rubbish..."( ) mr. tylor goes on thus (and his words contain the gist of our argument): "the general thesis maintained is that myth arose in the savage condition prevalent in remote ages among the whole human race; that it remains comparatively unchanged among the rude modern tribes who have departed least from these primitive conditions, while higher and later civilisations, partly by retaining its actual principles, and partly by carrying on its inherited results in the form of ancestral tradition, continued it not merely in toleration, but in honour".( ) elsewhere mr. tylor points out that by this method of interpretation we may study myths in various stages of evolution, from the rude guess of the savage at an explanation of natural phenomena, through the systems of the higher barbarisms, or lower civilisations (as in ancient mexico), and the sacerdotage of india, till myth reaches its most human form in greece. yet even in greek myth the beast is not wholly cast out, and hellas by no means "let the ape and tiger die". that mr. tylor does not exclude the aryan race from his general theory is plain enough.( ) "what is the aryan conception of the thunder-god but a poetic elaboration of thoughts inherited from the savage stage through which the primitive aryans had passed?"( ) ( ) primitive culture, nd edit., i. p. . ( ) op. cit., p. . ( ) primitive culture, nd edit., ii. . ( ) pretty much the same view seems to be taken by mr. max muller (nineteenth century, january, ) when he calls tsui goab (whom the hottentots believe to be a defunct conjuror) "a hottentot indra or zeus". the advantages of our hypothesis (if its legitimacy be admitted) are obvious. in the first place, we have to deal with an actual demonstrable condition of the human intellect. the existence of the savage state in all its various degrees, and of the common intellectual habits and conditions which are shared by the backward peoples, and again the survival of many of these in civilisation, are indubitable facts. we are not obliged to fall back upon some fanciful and unsupported theory of what "primitive man" did, and said, and thought. nay, more; we escape all the fallacies connected with the terms "primitive man". we are not compelled (as will be shown later)( ) to prove that the first men of all were like modern savages, nor that savages represent primitive man. it may be that the lowest extant savages are the nearest of existing peoples to the type of the first human beings. but on this point it is unnecessary for us to dogmatise. if we can show that, whether men began their career as savages or not, they have at least passed through the savage status or have borrowed the ideas of races in the savage status, that is all we need. we escape from all the snares of theories (incapable of historical proof) about the really primeval and original condition of the human family. ( ) appendix b. once more, our theory naturally attaches itself to the general system of evolution. we are enabled to examine mythology as a thing of gradual development and of slow and manifold modifications, corresponding in some degree to the various changes in the general progress of society. thus we shall watch the barbaric conditions of thought which produce barbaric myths, while these in their turn are retained, or perhaps purified, or perhaps explained away, by more advanced civilisations. further, we shall be able to detect the survival of the savage ideas with least modification, and the persistence of the savage myths with least change, among the classes of a civilised population which have shared least in the general advance. these classes are, first, the rustic peoples, dwelling far from cities and schools, on heaths or by the sea; second, the conservative local priesthoods, who retain the more crude and ancient myths of the local gods and heroes after these have been modified or rejected by the purer sense of philosophers and national poets. thus much of ancient myth is a woven warp and woof of three threads: the savage donnee, the civilised and poetic modification of the savage donnee, the version of the original fable which survives in popular tales and in the "sacred chapters" of local priesthoods. a critical study of these three stages in myth is in accordance with the recognised practice of science. indeed, the whole system is only an application to this particular province, mythology, of the method by which the development either of organisms or of human institutions is traced. as the anomalies and apparently useless and accidental features in the human or in other animal organisms may be explained as stunted or rudimentary survivals of organs useful in a previous stage of life, so the anomalous and irrational myths of civilised races may be explained as survivals of stories which, in an earlier state of thought and knowledge, seemed natural enough. the persistence of the myths is accounted for by the well-known conservatism of the religious sentiment--a conservatism noticed even by eusebius. "in later days, when they became ashamed of the religious beliefs of their ancestors, they invented private and respectful interpretations, each to suit himself. for no one dared to shake the ancestral beliefs, as they honoured at a very high rate the sacredness and antiquity of old associations, and of the teaching they had received in childhood."( ) ( ) praep. e., ii. , . thus the method which we propose to employ is in harmony both with modern scientific procedure and with the views of a clear-sighted father of the church. consequently no system could well be less "heretical" and "unorthodox". the last advantage of our hypothesis which need here be mentioned is that it helps to explain the diffusion no less than the origin of the wild and crazy element in myth. we seek for the origin of the savage factor of myth in one aspect of the intellectual condition of savages. we say "in one aspect" expressly; to guard against the suggestion that the savage intellect has no aspect but this, and no saner ideas than those of myth. the diffusion of stories practically identical in every quarter of the globe may be (provisionally) regarded as the result of the prevalence in every quarter, at one time or another, of similar mental habits and ideas. this explanation must not be pressed too hard nor too far. if we find all over the world a belief that men can change themselves and their neighbours into beasts, that belief will account for the appearance of metamorphosis in myth. if we find a belief that inanimate objects are really much on a level with man, the opinion will account for incidents of myth such as that in which the wooden figure-head of the argo speaks with a human voice. again, a widespread belief in the separability of the soul or the life from the body will account for the incident in nursery tales and myths of the "giant who had no heart in his body," but kept his heart and life elsewhere. an ancient identity of mental status and the working of similar mental forces at the attempt to explain the same phenomena will account, without any theory of borrowing, or transmission of myth, or of original unity of race, for the world-wide diffusion of many mythical conceptions. but this theory of the original similarity of the savage mind everywhere and in all races will scarcely account for the world-wide distribution of long and intricate mythical plots, of consecutive series of adroitly interwoven situations. in presence of these long romances, found among so many widely severed peoples, conjecture is, at present, almost idle. we do not know, in many instances, whether such stories were independently developed, or carried from a common centre, or borrowed by one race from another, and so handed on round the world. this chapter may conclude with an example of a tale whose diffusion may be explained in divers ways, though its origin seems undoubtedly savage. if we turn to the algonkins, a stock of red indians, we come on a popular tradition which really does give pause to the mythologist. could this story, he asks himself, have been separately invented in widely different places, or could the iroquois have borrowed from the australian blacks or the andaman islanders? it is a common thing in most mythologies to find everything of value to man--fire, sun, water--in the keeping of some hostile power. the fire, or the sun, or the water is then stolen, or in other ways rescued from the enemy and restored to humanity. the huron story (as far as water is concerned) is told by father paul le jeune, a jesuit missionary, who lived among the hurons about . the myth begins with the usual opposition between two brothers, the cain and abel of savage legend. one of the brothers, named ioskeha, slew the other, and became the father of mankind (as known to the red indians) and the guardian of the iroquois. the earth was at first arid and sterile, but ioskeha destroyed the gigantic frog which had swallowed all the waters, and guided the torrents into smooth streams and lakes.( ) ( ) relations de la nouvelle france, , p. (paris, cramoisy, ). now where, outside of north america, do we find this frog who swallowed all the water? we find him in australia. "the aborigines of lake tyers," remarks mr. brough smyth, "say that at one time there was no water anywhere on the face of the earth. all the waters were contained in the body of a huge frog, and men and women could get none of them. a council was held, and... it was agreed that the frog should be made to laugh, when the waters would run out of his mouth, and there would be plenty in all parts." to make a long story short, all the animals played the jester before the gigantic solemn frog, who sat as grave as louis xv. "i do not like buffoons who don't make me laugh," said that majestical monarch. at last the eel danced on the tip of his tail, and the gravity of the prodigious batrachian gave way. he laughed till he literally split his sides, and the imprisoned waters came with a rush. indeed, many persons were drowned, though this is not the only australian version of the deluge. the andaman islanders dwell at a very considerable distance from australia and from the iroquois, and, in the present condition of the natives of australia and andaman, neither could possibly visit the other. the frog in the andaman version is called a toad, and he came to swallow the waters in the following way: one day a woodpecker was eating honey high up in the boughs of a tree. far below, the toad was a witness of the feast, and asked for some honey. "well, come up here, and you shall have some," said the woodpecker. "but how am i to climb?" "take hold of that creeper, and i will draw you up," said the woodpecker; but all the while he was bent on a practical joke. so the toad got into a bucket he happened to possess, and fastened the bucket to the creeper. "now, pull!" then the woodpecker raised the toad slowly to the level of the bough where the honey was, and presently let him down with a run, not only disappointing the poor toad, but shaking him severely. the toad went away in a rage and looked about him for revenge. a happy thought occurred to him, and he drank up all the water of the rivers and lakes. birds and beasts were perishing, woodpeckers among them, of thirst. the toad, overjoyed at his success, wished to add insult to the injury, and, very thoughtlessly, began to dance in an irritating manner at his foes. but then the stolen waters gushed out of his mouth in full volume, and the drought soon ended. one of the most curious points in this myth is the origin of the quarrel between the woodpecker and the toad. the same beginning--the tale of an insult put on an animal by hauling up and letting him down with a run--occurs in an african marchen.( ) ( ) brough smyth, aborigines of victoria, i. , ; brinton, american hero myths, i. . cf. also relations de la nouvelle france, , , ; (sagard, hist. du canada, , p. ;) journal anthrop. inst., . now this strangely diffused story of the slaying of the frog which had swallowed all the water seems to be a savage myth of which the more heroic conflict of indra with vrittra (the dragon which had swallowed all the waters) is an epic and sublimer version.( ) "the heavenly water, which vrittra withholds from the world, is usually the prize of the contest." ( ) ludwig, der rig-veda, iii. p. . see postea, "divine myths of india". the serpent of vedic myth is, perhaps, rather the robber-guardian than the swallower of the waters, but indra is still, like the iroquois ioskeha, "he who wounds the full one".( ) this example of the wide distribution of a myth shows how the question of diffusion, though connected with, is yet distinct from that of origin. the advantage of our method will prove to be, that it discovers an historical and demonstrable state of mind as the origin of the wild element in myth. again, the wide prevalence in the earliest times of this mental condition will, to a certain extent, explain the distribution of myth. room must be left, of course, for processes of borrowing and transmission, but how andamanese, australians and hurons could borrow from each other is an unsolved problem. ( ) gubernatis, zoological myth. ii. , note . "when indra kills the serpent he opens the torrent of the waters" (p. ). see also aitareya brahmana, translated by haug, ii. . finally, our hypothesis is not involved in dubious theories of race. to us, myths appear to be affected (in their origins) much less by the race than by the stage of culture attained by the people who cherish them. a fight for the waters between a monstrous dragon like vrittra and a heroic god like indra is a nobler affair than a quarrel for the waters between a woodpecker and a toad. but the improvement and transfiguration, so to speak, of a myth at bottom the same is due to the superior culture, not to the peculiar race, of the vedic poets, except so far as culture itself depends on race. how far the purer culture was attained to by the original superiority of the aryan over the andaman breed, it is not necessary for our purpose to inquire. thus, on the whole, we may claim for our system a certain demonstrable character, which helps to simplify the problems of mythology, and to remove them from the realm of fanciful guesses and conflicting etymological conjectures into that of sober science. that these pretensions are not unacknowledged even by mythologists trained in other schools is proved by the remarks of dr. tiele.( ) ( ) rev. de l'hist. des rel., "le mythe de cronos," january, . dr. tiele is not, it must be noted, a thorough adherent of our theory. see modern mythology: "the question of allies". dr. tiele writes: "if i were obliged to choose between this method" (the system here advocated) "and that of comparative philology, it is the former that i would adopt without the slightest hesitation. this method alone enables us to explain the fact, which has so often provoked amazement, that people so refined as the greeks,... or so rude, but morally pure, as the germans,... managed to attribute to their gods all manner of cowardly, cruel and disorderly conduct. this method alone explains the why and wherefore of all those strange metamorphoses of gods into beasts and plants, and even stones, which scandalised philosophers, and which the witty ovid played on for the diversion of his contemporaries. in short, this method teaches us to recognise in all those strange stories the survivals of a barbaric age, long passed away, but enduring to later times in the form of religious traditions, of all traditions the most persistent.... finally, this method alone enables us to explain the origin of myths, because it endeavours to study them in their rudest and most primitive shape, thus allowing their true significance to be much more clearly apparent than it can be in the myths (so often touched, retouched, augmented and humanised) which are current among races arrived at a certain degree of culture." the method is to this extent applauded by a most competent authority, and it has been warmly accepted by a distinguished french school of students, represented by m. gaidoz. but it is obvious that the method rests on a double hypothesis: first, that satisfactory evidence as to the mental conditions of the lower and backward races is obtainable; second, that the civilised races (however they began) either passed through the savage state of thought and practice, or borrowed very freely from people in that condition. these hypotheses have been attacked by opponents; the trustworthiness of our evidence, especially, has been assailed. by way of facilitating the course of the exposition and of lessening the disturbing element of controversy, a reply to the objections and a defence of the evidence has been relegated to an appendix.( ) meanwhile we go on to examine the peculiar characteristics of the mental condition of savages and of peoples in the lower and upper barbarisms. ( ) appendix b. chapter iii. the mental condition of savages--confusion with nature--totemism. the mental condition of savages the basis of the irrational element in myth--characteristics of that condition: ( ) confusion of all things in an equality of presumed animation and intelligence; ( ) belief in sorcery; ( ) spiritualism; ( ) curiosity; ( ) easy credulity and mental indolence--the curiosity is satisfied, thanks to the credulity, by myths in answer to all inquiries--evidence for this--mr. tylor's opinion--mr. im thurn--jesuit missionaries' relations--examples of confusion between men, plants, beasts and other natural objects--reports of travellers--evidence from institution of totemism--definition of totemism--totemism in australia, africa, america, the oceanic islands, india, north asia--conclusions: totemism being found so widely distributed, is a proof of the existence of that savage mental condition in which no line is drawn between men and the other things in the world. this confusion is one of the characteristics of myth in all races. we set out to discover a stage of human intellectual development which would necessarily produce the essential elements of myth. we think we have found that stage in the condition of savagery. we now proceed to array the evidence for the mental processes of savages. we intend to demonstrate the existence in practical savage life of the ideas which most surprise us when we find them in civilised sacred legends. for the purposes of this inquiry, it is enough to select a few special peculiarities of savage thought. . first we have that nebulous and confused frame of mind to which all things, animate or inanimate, human, animal, vegetable, or inorganic, seem on the same level of life, passion and reason. the savage, at all events when myth-making, draws no hard and fast line between himself and the things in the world. he regards himself as literally akin to animals and plants and heavenly bodies; he attributes sex and procreative powers even to stones and rocks, and he assigns human speech and human feelings to sun and moon and stars and wind, no less than to beasts, birds and fishes.( ) ( ) "so fasst auch das alterthum ihren unterschied von den menschen ganz anders als die spatere zeit."--grimm, quoted by liebrecht, zur volkskunde, p. . . the second point to note in savage opinion is the belief in magic and sorcery. the world and all the things in it being vaguely conceived of as sensible and rational, obey the commands of certain members of the tribe, chiefs, jugglers, conjurors, or what you will. rocks open at their order, rivers dry up, animals are their servants and hold converse with them. these magicians cause or heal diseases, and can command even the weather, bringing rain or thunder or sunshine at their will.( ) there are few supernatural attributes of "cloud-compelling zeus" or of apollo that are not freely assigned to the tribal conjuror. by virtue, doubtless, of the community of nature between man and the things in the world, the conjuror (like zeus or indra) can assume at will the shape of any animal, or can metamorphose his neighbours or enemies into animal forms. ( ) see roth in north-west central queensland aborigines, chapter xii., . . another peculiarity of savage belief naturally connects itself with that which has just been described. the savage has very strong ideas about the persistent existence of the souls of the dead. they retain much of their old nature, but are often more malignant after death than they had been during life. they are frequently at the beck and call of the conjuror, whom they aid with their advice and with their magical power. by virtue of the close connection already spoken of between man and the animals, the souls of the dead are not rarely supposed to migrate into the bodies of beasts, or to revert to the condition of that species of creatures with which each tribe supposes itself to be related by ties of kinship or friendship. with the usual inconsistency of mythical belief, the souls of the dead are spoken of, at other times, as if they inhabited a spiritual world, sometimes a paradise of flowers, sometimes a gloomy place, which mortal men may visit, but whence no one can escape who has tasted of the food of the ghosts. . in connection with spirits a far-reaching savage philosophy prevails. it is not unusual to assign a ghost to all objects, animate or inanimate, and the spirit or strength of a man is frequently regarded as something separable, capable of being located in an external object, or something with a definite locality in the body. a man's strength and spirit may reside in his kidney fat, in his heart, in a lock of his hair, or may even be stored by him in some separate receptacle. very frequently a man is held capable of detaching his soul from his body, and letting it roam about on his business, sometimes in the form of a bird or other animal. . many minor savage beliefs might be named, such as the common faith in friendly or protecting animals, and the notion that "natural deaths" (as we call them) are always unnatural, that death is always caused by some hostile spirit or conjuror. from this opinion comes the myth that man is naturally not subject to death: that death was somehow introduced into the world by a mistake or misdeed is a corollary. (see "myths of the origin of death" in modern mythology.) . one more mental peculiarity of the savage mind remains to be considered in this brief summary. the savage, like the civilised man, is curious. the first faint impulses of the scientific spirit are at work in his brain; he is anxious to give himself an account of the world in which he finds himself. but he is not more curious than he is, on occasion, credulous. his intellect is eager to ask questions, as is the habit of children, but his intellect is also lazy, and he is content with the first answer that comes to hand. "ils s'arretent aux premieres notions qu'ils en ont," says pere hierome lalemant.( ) "nothing," says schoolcraft, "is too capacious (sic) for indian belief."( ) the replies to his questions he receives from tradition or (when a new problem arises) evolves an answer for himself in the shape of stories. just as socrates, in the platonic dialogues, recalls or invents a myth in the despair of reason, so the savage has a story for answer to almost every question that he can ask himself. these stories are in a sense scientific, because they attempt a solution of the riddles of the world. they are in a sense religious, because there is usually a supernatural power, a deus ex machina, of some sort to cut the knot of the problem. such stories, then, are the science, and to a certain extent the religious tradition, of savages.( ) ( ) relations de la nouvelle france, , p. . ( ) algic researches, i. . ( ) "the indians (algonkins) conveyed instruction--moral, mechanical and religious--through traditionary fictions and tales."--schoolcraft, algic researches, i. . now these tales are necessarily cast in the mould of the savage ideas of which a sketch has been given. the changes of the heavenly bodies, the processes of day and night, the existence of the stars, the invention of the arts, the origin of the world (as far as known to the savage), of the tribe, of the various animals and plants, the origin of death itself, the origin of the perplexing traditional tribal customs, are all accounted for in stories. at the same time, an actual divine maker is sometimes postulated. the stories, again, are fashioned in accordance with the beliefs already named: the belief in human connection with and kinship with beasts and plants; the belief in magic; the belief in the perpetual possibility of metamorphosis or "shape shifting"; the belief in the permanence and power of the ghosts of the dead; the belief in the personal and animated character of all the things in the world, and so forth. no more need be said to explain the wild and (as it seems to us moderns) the irrational character of savage myth. it is a jungle of foolish fancies, a walpurgis nacht of gods and beasts and men and stars and ghosts, all moving madly on a level of common personality and animation, and all changing shapes at random, as partners are changed in some fantastic witches' revel. such is savage mythology, and how could it be otherwise when we consider the elements of thought and belief out of which it is mainly composed? we shall see that part of the mythology of the greeks or the aryans of india is but a similar walpurgis nacht, in which an incestuous or amorous god may become a beast, and the object of his pursuit, once a woman, may also become a beast, and then shift shapes to a tree or a bird or a star. but in the civilised races the genius of the people tends to suppress, exclude and refine away the wild element, which, however, is never wholly eliminated. the erinyes soon stop the mouth of the horse of achilles when he begins, like the horse in grimm's goose girl, to hold a sustained conversation.( ) but the ancient, cruel, and grotesque savage element, nearly overcome by homer and greatly reduced by the vedic poets, breaks out again in hesiod, in temple legends and brahmanic glosses, and finally proves so strong that it can only be subdued by christianity, or rather by that break between the educated classes and the traditional past of religion which has resulted from christianity. even so, myth lingers in the folk-lore of the non-progressive classes of europe, and, as in roumania, invades religion. ( ) iliad, xix. . we have now to demonstrate the existence in the savage intellect of the various ideas and habits which we have described, and out of which mythology springs. first, we have to show that "a nebulous and confused state of mind, to which all things, animate or inanimate, human, animal, vegetable or inorganic, seem on the same level of life, passion and reason," does really exist.( ) the existence of this condition of the intellect will be demonstrated first on the evidence of the statements of civilised observers, next on the evidence of the savage institutions in which it is embodied. ( ) creuzer and guigniaut, vol. i. p. . the opinion of mr. tylor is naturally of great value, as it is formed on as wide an acquaintance with the views of the lower races as any inquirers can hope to possess. mr. tylor observes: "we have to inform ourselves of the savage man's idea, which is very different from the civilised man's, of the nature of the lower animals.... the sense of an absolute psychical distinction between man and beast, so prevalent in the civilised world, is hardly to be found among the lower races."( ) the universal attribution of "souls" to all things--the theory known as "animism"--is another proof that the savage draws no hard and fast line between man and the other things in the world. the notion of the italian country-people, that cruelty to an animal does not matter because it is not a "christian," has no parallel in the philosophy of the savage, to whom all objects seem to have souls, just as men have. mr. im thurn found the absence of any sense of a difference between man and nature a characteristic of his native companions in guiana. "the very phrase, 'men and other animals,' or even, as it is often expressed, 'men and animals,' based as it is on the superiority which civilised man feels over other animals, expresses a dichotomy which is in no way recognised by the indian.... it is therefore most important to realise how comparatively small really is the difference between men in a state of savagery and other animals, and how completely even such difference as exists escapes the notice of savage men... it is not, therefore, too much to say that, according to the view of the indians, other animals differ from men only in bodily form and in their various degrees of strength; in spirit they do not differ at all."( ) the indian's notion of the life of plants and stones is on the same level of unreason, as we moderns reckon reason. he believes in the spirits of rocks and stones, undeterred by the absence of motion in these objects. "not only many rocks, but also many waterfalls, streams, and indeed material objects of every sort, are supposed each to consist of a body and a spirit, as does man."( ) it is not our business to ask here how men came by the belief in universal animation. that belief is gradually withdrawn, distinctions are gradually introduced, as civilisation and knowledge advance. it is enough for us if the failure to draw a hard and fast line between man and beasts, stones and plants, be practically universal among savages, and if it gradually disappears before the fuller knowledge of civilisation. the report which mr. im thurn brings from the indians of guiana is confirmed by what schoolcraft says of the algonkin races of the northern part of the continent. "the belief of the narrators and listeners in every wild and improbable thing told helps wonderfully in the original stories, in joining all parts together. the indian believes that the whole visible and invisible creation is animated.... to make the matter worse, these tribes believe that animals of the lowest as well as highest class in the chain of creation are alike endowed with reasoning powers and faculties. as a natural conclusion they endow birds, beasts and all other animals with souls."( ) as an example of the ease with which the savage recognises consciousness and voluntary motion even in stones, may be cited kohl's account of the beliefs of the objibeways.( ) nearly every indian has discovered, he says, an object in which he places special confidence, and to which he sacrifices more zealously than to the great spirit. the "hope" of otamigan (a companion of the traveller) was a rock, which once advanced to meet him, swayed, bowed and went back again. another indian revered a canadian larch, "because he once heard a very remarkable rustling in its branches". it thus appears that while the savage has a general kind of sense that inanimate things are animated, he is a good deal impressed by their conduct when he thinks that they actually display their animation. in the same way a devout modern spiritualist probably regards with more reverence a table which he has seen dancing and heard rapping than a table at which he has only dined. another general statement of failure to draw the line between men and the irrational creation is found in the old jesuit missionary le jeune's relations de la nouvelle france.( ) "les sauvages se persuadent que non seulement les hommes et les autres animaux, mais aussi que toutes les autres choses sont animees." again: "ils tiennent les poissons raisonnables, comme aussi les cerfs". in the solomon islands, mr. romilly sailed with an old chief who used violent language to the waves when they threatened to dash over the boat, and "old takki's exhortations were successful".( ) waitz( ) discovers the same attitude towards the animals among the negroes. man, in their opinion, is by no means a separate sort of person on the summit of nature and high above the beasts; these he rather regards as dark and enigmatic beings, whose life is full of mystery, and which he therefore considers now as his inferiors, now as his superiors. a collection of evidence as to the savage failure to discriminate between human and non-human, animate and inanimate, has been brought together by sir john lubbock.( ) ( ) primitive culture, i. - . ( ) among the indians of guiana ( ), p. . ( ) op. cit., . ( ) schoolcraft, algic researches, i. . ( ) kohl, wanderings round lake superior, pp. , ; muller, amerikan urrelig., pp. - . ( ) , p. . ( ) western pacific, p. . ( ) anthropologie der natur-volker, ii. . ( ) origin of civilisation, p. . a number of examples of this mental attitude among the bushmen will be found in chap. v., postea. to a race accustomed like ourselves to arrange and classify, to people familiar from childhood and its games with "vegetable, animal and mineral," a condition of mind in which no such distinctions are drawn, any more than they are drawn in greek or brahmanic myths, must naturally seem like what mr. max muller calls "temporary insanity". the imagination of the savage has been defined by mr. tylor as "midway between the conditions of a healthy, prosaic, modern citizen, and of a raving fanatic, or of a patient in a fever-ward". if any relics of such imagination survive in civilised mythology, they will very closely resemble the productions of a once universal "temporary insanity". let it be granted, then, that "to the lower tribes of man, sun and stars, trees and rivers, winds and clouds, become personal, animate creatures, leading lives conformed to human or animal analogies, and performing their special functions in the universe with the aid of limbs like beasts, or of artificial instruments like men; or that what men's eyes behold is but the instrument to be used or the material to be shaped, while behind it there stands some prodigious but yet half-human creature, who grasps it with his hands or blows it with his breath. the basis on which such ideas as these are built is not to be narrowed down to poetic fancy and transformed metaphor. they rest upon a broad philosophy of nature; early and crude, indeed, but thoughtful, consistent, and quite really and seriously meant."( ) ( ) primtive culture, i. . for the sake of illustration, some minor examples must next be given of this confusion between man and other things in the world, which will presently be illustrated by the testimony of a powerful and long diffused set of institutions. the christian quiches of guatemala believe that each of them has a beast as his friend and protector, just as in the highlands "the dog is the friend of the maclaines". when the finns, in their epic poem the kalewala, have killed a bear, they implore the animal to forgive them. "oh, ot-so," chant the singers, "be not angry that we come near thee. the bear, the honey-footed bear, was born in lands between sun and moon, and he died, not by men's hands, but of his own will."( ) the red men of north america( ) have a tradition showing how it is that the bear does not die, but, like herodotus with the sacred stories of the egyptian priests, mr. schoolcraft "cannot induce himself to write it out".( ) it is a most curious fact that the natives of australia tell a similar tale of their "native bear". "he did not die" when attacked by men.( ) in parts of australia it is a great offence to skin the native bear, just as on a part of the west coast of ireland, where seals are superstitiously regarded, the people cannot be bribed to skin them. in new caledonia, when a child tries to kill a lizard, the men warn him to "beware of killing his own ancestor".( ) the zulus spare to destroy a certain species of serpents, believed to be the spirits of kinsmen, as the great snake which appeared when aeneas did sacrifice was held to be the ghost of anchises. mexican women( ) believed that children born during an eclipse turn into mice. in australia the natives believe that the wild dog has the power of speech; whoever listens to him is petrified; and a certain spot is shown where "the wild dog spoke and turned the men into stone";( ) and the blacks run for their lives as soon as the dog begins to speak. what it said was "bones". ( ) kalewala, in la finlande, leouzon le duc ( ), vol. ii. p. ; cf. also the introduction. ( ) schoolcraft, v. . ( ) see similar ceremonies propitiatory of the bear in jewett's adventures among the nootkas, edinburgh, . ( ) brough smyth, i. . ( ) j. j. atkinson's ms. ( ) sahagun, ii. viii. ; bancroft, iii. . compare stories of women who give birth to animals in melusine, , august-november. the batavians believe that women, when delivered of a child, are frequently delivered at the same time of a young crocodile as a twin. hawkesworth's voyages, iii. . liebrecht, zur volkskunde, p. et seq. ( ) brough smyth, aborigines of victoria, i. . these are minor examples of a form of opinion which is so strong that it is actually the chief constituent in savage society. that society, whether in ashantee or australia, in north america or south africa, or north asia or india, or among the wilder tribes of ancient peru, is based on an institution generally called "totemism". this very extraordinary institution, whatever its origin, cannot have arisen except among men capable of conceiving kinship and all human relationships as existing between themselves and all animate and inanimate things. it is the rule, and not the exception, that savage societies are founded upon this belief. the political and social conduct of the backward races is regulated in such matters as blood-feud and marriage by theories of the actual kindred and connection by descent, or by old friendship, which men have in common with beasts, plants, the sun and moon, the stars, and even the wind and the rain. now, in whatever way this belief in such relations to beasts and plants may have arisen, it undoubtedly testifies to a condition of mind in which no hard and fast line was drawn between man and animate and inanimate nature. the discovery of the wide distribution of the social arrangements based on this belief is entirely due to mr. j. f. m'lennan, the author of primitive marriage. mr. m'lennan's essays ("the worship of plants and animals," "totems and totemism") were published in the fortnightly review, - . any follower in the footsteps of mr. m'lennan has it in his power to add a little evidence to that originally set forth, and perhaps to sift the somewhat uncritical authorities adduced.( ) ( ) see also mr. frazer's totemism, and golden bough, with chapter on totemism in modern mythology. the name "totemism" or "totamism" was first applied at the end of the last century by long( ) to the red indian custom which acknowledges human kinship with animals. this institution had already been recognised among the iroquois by lafitau,( ) and by other observers. as to the word "totem," mr. max muller( ) quotes an opinion that the interpreters, missionaries, government inspectors, and others who apply the name totem to the indian "family mark" must have been ignorant of the indian languages, for there is in them no such word as totem. the right word, it appears, is otem; but as "totemism" has the advantage of possessing the ground, we prefer to say "totemism" rather than "otemism". the facts are the same, whatever name we give them. as mr. muller says himself,( ) "every warrior has his crest, which is called his totem";( ) and he goes on to describe a totem of an indian who died about . we may now return to the consideration of "otemism" or totemism. we approach it rather as a fact in the science of mythology than as a stage in the evolution of the modern family system. for us totemism is interesting because it proves the existence of that savage mental attitude which assumes kindred and alliance between man and the things in the world. as will afterwards be seen, totemism has also left its mark on the mythologies of the civilised races. we shall examine the institution first as it is found in australia, because the australian form of totemism shows in the highest known degree the savage habit of confusing in a community of kinship men, stars, plants, beasts, the heavenly bodies, and the forces of nature. when this has once been elucidated, a shorter notice of other totemistic races will serve our purpose. ( ) voyages and travels, . ( ) moeurs des sauvages ( ), p. . ( ) academy, december , . ( ) selected essays ( ), ii. . ( ) compare mr. max muller's contributions to the science of mythology. the society of the murri or black fellows of australia is divided into local tribes, each of which possesses, or used to possess, and hunt over a considerable tract of country. these local tribes are united by contiguity, and by common local interests, but not necessarily by blood kinship. for example, the port mackay tribe, the mount gambier tribe, the ballarat tribe, all take their names from their district. in the same way we might speak of the people of strathclyde or of northumbria in early english history. now, all these local tribes contain an indefinite number of stocks of kindred, of men believing themselves to be related by the ties of blood and common descent. that descent the groups agree in tracing, not from some real or idealised human parent, but from some animal, plant, or other natural object, as the kangaroo, the emu, the iguana, the pelican, and so forth. persons of the pelican stock in the north of queensland regard themselves as relations of people of the same stock in the most southern parts of australia. the creature from which each tribe claims descent is called "of the same flesh," while persons of another stock are "fresh flesh". a native may not marry a woman of "his own flesh"; it is only a woman of "fresh" or "strange" flesh he may marry. a man may not eat an animal of "his own flesh"; he may only eat "strange flesh". only under great stress of need will an australian eat the animal which is the flesh-and-blood cousin and protector of his stock.( ) (these rules of marriage and blood, however, do not apply among the arunta of central australia, whose totems (if totems they should be called) have been developed on very different lines.( )) clearer evidence of the confusion between man and beast, of the claiming of kin between man and beast, could hardly be. ( ) dawson, aborigines, pp. , ; howitt and fison, kamilaroi and kurnai, p. . ( ) spencer and gillen, native tribes of central australia. but the australian philosophy of the intercommunion of nature goes still farther than this. besides the local divisions and the kindred stocks which trace their descent from animals, there exist among many australian tribes divisions of a kind still unexplained. for example, every man of the mount gambier local tribe is by birth either a kumite or a kroki. this classification applies to the whole of the sensible universe. thus smoke and honeysuckle trees belong to the division kumite, and are akin to the fishhawk stock of men. on the other hand, the kangaroo, summer, autumn, the wind and the shevak tree belong to the division kroki, and are akin to the black cockatoo stock of men. any human member of the kroki division has thus for his brothers the sun, the wind, the kangaroo, and the rest; while any man of the kumite division and the crow surname is the brother of the rain, the thunder, and the winter. this extraordinary belief is not a mere idle fancy--it influences conduct. "a man does not kill or use as food any of the animals of the same subdivision (kroki or kumite) with himself, excepting when hunger compels, and then they express sorrow for having to eat their wingong (friends) or tumanang (their flesh). when using the last word they touch their breasts, to indicate the close relationship, meaning almost a portion of themselves. to illustrate: one day one of the blacks killed a crow. three or four days afterwards a boortwa (a man of the crow surname and stock), named larry, died. he had been ailing for some days, but the killing of his wingong (totem) hastened his death."( ) commenting on this statement, mr. fison observes: "the south australian savage looks upon the universe as the great tribe, to one of whose divisions he himself belongs; and all things, animate and inanimate, which belong to his class are parts of the body corporate whereof he himself is part". this account of the australian beliefs and customs is borne out, to a certain extent, by the evidence of sir george grey,( ) and of the late mr. gideon scott lang.( ) these two writers take no account of the singular "dichotomous" divisions, as of kumite and kroki, but they draw attention to the groups of kindred which derive their surnames from animals, plants, and the like. "the origin of these family names," says sir george grey, "is attributed by the natives to different causes.... one origin frequently assigned by the natives is, that they were derived from some vegetable or animal being very common in the district which the family inhabited." we have seen from the evidence of messrs. fison and howitt that a more common native explanation is based on kinship with the vegetable or plant which bestows the family surname. sir george gray mentions that the families use their plant or animal as a crest or kobong (totem), and he adds that natives never willingly kill animals of their kobong, holding that some one of that species is their nearest friend. the consequences of eating forbidden animals vary considerably. sometimes the boyl-yas (that is, ghosts) avenge the crime. thus when sir george grey ate some mussels (which, after all, are not the crest of the greys), a storm followed, and one of his black fellow improvised this stave:-- oh, wherefore did he eat the mussels? now the boyl-yas storms and thunders make; oh, wherefore would he eat the mussels? ( ) kamilaroi and kurnai, p. . ( ) travels, ii. . ( ) lang, lecture on natives of australia, p. . there are two points in the arrangements of these stocks of kindred named from plants and animals which we shall find to possess a high importance. no member of any such kindred may marry a woman of the same name and descended from the same object.( ) thus no man of the emu stock may marry an emu woman; no blacksnake may marry a blacksnake woman, and so forth. this point is very strongly put by mr. dawson, who has had much experience of the blacks. "so strictly are the laws of marriage carried out, that, should any sign of courtship or affection be observed between those 'of one flesh,' the brothers or male relatives of the woman beat her severely." if the incestuous pair (though not in the least related according to our ideas) run away together, they are "half-killed"; and if the woman dies in consequence of her punishment, her partner in iniquity is beaten again. no "eric" or blood-fine of any kind is paid for her death, which carries no blood-feud. "her punishment is legal."( ) this account fully corroborates that of sir george grey.( ) ( ) taplin, the nerrinyeri. p. . "every tribe, regarded by them as a family, has its ngaitge, or tutelary genius or tribal symbol, in the shape of some bird, beast, fish, reptile, insect, or substance. between individuals of the same tribe no marriage can take place." among the narrinyeri kindred is reckoned (p. ) on the father's side. see also (p. ) ngaitge = samoan aitu. "no man or woman will kill their ngaitge," except with precautions, for food. ( ) op. cit., p. . ( ) ibid., ii. . our conclusion is that the belief in "one flesh" (a kinship shared with the animals) must be a thoroughly binding idea, as the notion is sanctioned by capital punishment. another important feature in australian totemism strengthens our position. the idea of the animal kinship must be an ancient one in the race, because the family surname, emu, bandicoot, or what not, and the crest, kobong, or protecting and kindred animal, are inherited through the mother's side in the majority of stocks. this custom, therefore, belongs to that early period of human society in which the woman is the permanent and recognised factor in the family while male parentage is uncertain.( ) one other feature of australian totemism must be mentioned before we leave the subject. there is some evidence that in certain tribes the wingong or totem of each man is indicated by a tattooed representation of it upon his flesh. the natives are very licentious, but men would shrink from an amour with a woman who neither belonged to their own district nor spoke their language, but who, in spite of that, was of their totem. to avoid mistakes, it seems that some tribes mark the totem on the flesh with incised lines.( ) the natives frequently design figures of some kind on the trees growing near the graves of deceased warriors. some observers have fancied that in these designs they recognised the totem of the dead men; but on this subject evidence is by no means clear. we shall see that this primitive sort of heraldry, this carving or painting of hereditary blazons, is common among the red men of america.( ) ( ) cf. bachofen, das mutterrecht; m'lennan, primitive marriage, passim; encycl. brit. s. v. family. ( ) fison, op. cit., p. . ( ) among other recent sources see howitt in "organisation of australian tribes" (transactions of royal society of victoria, ), and spencer and gillen, natives of central australia. in central australia there is a marked difference in the form of totemism. though a large amount of evidence might be added to that already put forward, we may now sum up the inferences to be drawn from the study of totemism in australia. it has been shown ( ) that the natives think themselves actually akin to animals, plants, the sun, and the wind, and things in general; ( ) that those ideas influence their conduct, and even regulate their social arrangements, because ( ) men and women of the kinship of the same animal or plant may not intermarry, while men are obliged to defend, and in case of murder to avenge, persons of the stock of the family or plant from which they themselves derive their family name. thus, on the evidence of institutions, it is plain that the australians are (or before the influence of the europeans became prevalent were) in a state of mind which draws no hard and fast line between man and the things in the world. if, therefore, we find that in australian myth, men, gods, beasts, and things all shift shapes incessantly, and figure in a coroboree dance of confusion, there will be nothing to astonish us in the discovery. the myths of men in the australian intellectual condition, of men who hold long conversations with the little "native bear," and ask him for oracles, will naturally and inevitably be grotesque and confused.( ) ( ) brough smyth, i. , on ms. authority of w. thomas. it is "a far cry" from australia to the west coast of africa, and it is scarcely to be supposed that the australians have borrowed ideas and institutions from ashantee, or that the people of ashantee have derived their conceptions of the universe from the murri of australia. we find, however, on the west african coast, just as we do in australia, that there exist large local divisions of the natives. these divisions are spoken of by mr. bowditch (who visited the country on a mission in ) as nations, and they are much more populous and powerful (as the people are more civilised) than the local tribes of australia. yet, just as among the local tribes of australia, the nations of the west african coast are divided into stocks of kindred, each stock having its representatives in each nation. thus an ashantee or a fantee may belong to the same stock of kindred as a member of the assin or akini nation. when an ashantee of the annona stock of kindred meets a warsaw man of the same stock they salute and acknowledge each other as brothers. in the same way a ballarat man of the kangaroo stock in australia recognises a relative in a mount gambier man who is also a kangaroo. now, with one exception, all the names of the twelve stocks of west african kindreds, or at least all of them which mr. bowditch could get the native interpreters to translate, are derived from animals, plants and other natural objects, just as in australia.( ) thus quonna is a buffalo, abrootoo is a cornstalk, abbradi a plantain. other names are, in english, the parrot, the wild cat, red earth, panther and dog. thus all the natives of this part of africa are parrots, dogs, buffaloes, panthers, and so forth, just as the australians are emus, iguanas, black cockatoos, kangaroos, and the rest. it is remarkable that there is an incra stock, or clan of ants, in ashantee, just as there was a race of myrmidons, believed to be descended from or otherwise connected with ants, in ancient greece. though bowditch's account of these west african family divisions is brief, the arrangement tallies closely with that of australia. it is no great stretch of imagination to infer that the african tribes do, or once did, believe themselves to be of the kindred of the animals whose names they bear.( ) it is more or less confirmatory of this hypothesis that no family is permitted to use as food the animal from which it derives its name. we have seen that a similar rule prevails, as far as hunger and scarcity of victuals permit it to be obeyed, among the natives of australia. the intchwa stock in ashantee and fantee is particularly unlucky, because its members may not eat the dog, "much relished by native epicures, and therefore a serious privation". equally to be pitied were the ancient egyptians, who, if they belonged to the district of the sheep, might not eat mutton, which their neighbours, the lycopolitae, devoured at pleasure. these restrictions appear to be connected with the almost universal dislike of cannibals to eat persons of their own kindred except as a pious duty. this law of the game in cannibalism has not yet been thoroughly examined, though we often hear of wars waged expressly for the purpose of securing food (human meat), while some south american tribes actually bred from captive women by way of securing constant supplies of permitted flesh.( ) when we find stocks, then, which derive their names from animals and decline to eat these animals, we may at least suspect that they once claimed kinship with the name-giving beasts. the refusal to eat them raises a presumption of such faith. old bosman( ) had noticed the same practices. "one eats no mutton, another no goat's flesh, another no beef, swine's flesh, wild fowl, cocks with white feathers, and they say their ancestors did so from the beginning of the world." ( ) the evidence of native interpreters may be viewed with suspicion. it is improbable, however, that in the interpreters were acquainted with the totemistic theory of mythologists, and deliberately mistranslated the names of the stocks, so as to make them harmonise with indian, australian, and red indian totem kindreds. this, indeed, is an example where the criterion of "recurrence" or "coincidence" seems to be valuable. bowditch's mission to ashantee ( ), p. . ( ) this view, however, does not prevail among the totemistic tribes of british columbia, for example. ( ) cieza de leon (hakluyt society), p. . this amazing tale is supported by the statement that kinship went by the female side (p. ); the father was thus not of the kin of his child by the alien woman. cieza was with validillo in . ( ) in pinkerton, xvi. . while in the case of the ashantee tribes, we can only infer the existence of a belief in kinship with the animals from the presence of the other features of fully developed totemism (especially from the refusal to eat the name-giving animal), we have direct evidence for the opinion in another part of africa, among the bechuanas.( ) casalis, who passed twenty-three years as a missionary in south africa, thus describes the institution: "while the united communities usually bear the name of their chief or of the district which they inhabit" (local tribes, as in australia), "each stock (tribu) derives its title from an animal or a vegetable. all the bechuanas are subdivided thus into bakuenas (crocodile-men), batlapis (men of the fish), banarer (of the buffalo), banukus (porcupines), bamoraras (wild vines), and so forth. the bakuenas call the crocodile their father, sing about him in their feasts, swear by him, and mark the ears of their cattle with an incision which resembles the open jaws of the creature." this custom of marking the cattle with the crest, as it were, of the stock, takes among some races the shape of deforming themselves, so as the more to resemble the animal from which they claim descent. "the chief of the family which holds the chief rank in the stock is called 'the great man of the crocodile'. precisely in the same way the duchess of sutherland is styled in gaelic 'the great lady of the cat,'" though totemism is probably not the origin of this title. ( ) e. casalis, les bassoutos, . casalis proceeds: "no one would dare to eat the flesh or wear the skin of the animal whose name he bears. if the animal be dangerous--the lion, for example--people only kill him after offering every apology and asking his pardon. purification must follow such a sacrifice." casalis was much struck with the resemblance between these practices and the similar customs of north american races. livingstone's account( ) on the whole corroborates that of casalis, though he says the batau (tribe of the lion) no longer exists. "they use the word bina 'to dance,' in reference to the custom of thus naming themselves, so that when you wish to ascertain what tribe they belong to, you say, 'what do you dance?' it would seem as if this had been part of the worship of old." the mythological and religious knowledge of the bushmen is still imparted in dances; and when a man is ignorant of some myth he will say, "i do not dance that dance," meaning that he does not belong to the guild which preserves that particular "sacred chapter".( ) ( ) missionary travels ( ), p. . ( ) orpen, cape monthly magazine, . casalis noticed the similarity between south african and red indian opinion about kinship with vegetables and beasts. the difficulty in treating the red indian belief is chiefly found in the abundance of the evidence. perhaps the first person who ever used the word "totemism," or, as he spells it, "totamism," was (as we said) mr. long, an interpreter among the chippeways, who published his voyages in . long was not wholly ignorant of the languages, as it was his business to speak them, and he was an adopted indian. the ceremony of adoption was painful, beginning with a feast of dog's flesh, followed by a turkish bath and a prolonged process of tattooing.( ) according to long,( ) "the totam, they conceive, assumes the form of some beast or other, and therefore they never kill, hurt, or eat the animal whose form they think this totam bears". one man was filled with religious apprehensions, and gave himself up to the gloomy belief of bunyan and cowper, that he had committed the unpardonable sin, because he dreamed he had killed his totem, a bear.( ) this is only one example, like the refusal of the osages to kill the beavers, with which they count cousins,( ) that the red man's belief is an actual creed, and does influence his conduct. ( ) long, pp. - . ( ) ibid., p. . ( ) ibid., p. . ( ) schoolcraft, i. . as in australia, the belief in common kin with beasts is most clearly proved by the construction of red indian society. the "totemistic" stage of thought and manners prevails. thus charlevoix says,( ) "plusieurs nations ont chacune trois familles ou tribus principales, aussi anciennes, a ce qu'il paroit, que leur origine. chaque tribu porte le nom d'un animal, et la nation entiere a aussi le sien, dont elle prend le nom, et dont la figure est sa marque, ou, se l'on veut, ses armoiries, on ne signe point autrement les traites qu'en traceant ces figures." among the animal totems charlevoix notices porcupine, bear, wolf and turtle. the armoiries, the totemistic heraldry of the peoples of virginia, greatly interested a heraldic ancestor of gibbon the historian,( ) who settled in the colony. according to schoolcraft,( ) the totem or family badge, of a dead warrior is drawn in a reverse position on his grave-post. in the same way the leopards of england are drawn reversed on the shield of an english king opposite the mention of his death in old monkish chronicles. as a general rule,( ) persons bearing the same totem in america cannot intermarry. "the union must be between various totems." moreover, as in the case of the australians, "the descent of the chief is in the female line". we thus find among the red men precisely the same totemistic regulations as among the aborigines of australia. like the australians, the red men "never" (perhaps we should read "hardly ever") eat their totems. totemists, in short, spare the beasts that are their own kith and kin. to avoid multiplying details which all corroborate each other, it may suffice to refer to schoolcraft for totemism among the iowas( ) and the pueblos;( ) for the iroquois, to lafitau, a missionary of the early part of the eighteenth century. lafitau was perhaps the first writer who ever explained certain features in greek and other ancient myths and practices as survivals from totemism. the chimera, a composite creature, lion, goat and serpent, might represent, lafitau thought, a league of three totem tribes, just as wolf, bear and turtle represented the iroquois league. ( ) histoire de la france-nouvelle, iii. . ( ) introductio ad latinam blasoniam, by john gibbon, blue mantle, london, . "the dancers, were painted some party per pale, gul and sab, some party per fesse of the same colours;" whence gibbon concluded "that heraldry was ingrafted naturally into the sense of the humane race". ( ) vol. i. p. . ( ) schoolcraft, v. . ( ) ibid., iii. . ( ) ibid., iv. . the martyred pere rasles, again, writing in ,( ) says that one stock of the outaonaks claims descent from a hare ("the great hare was a man of prodigious size"), while another stock derive their lineage from the carp, and a third descends from a bear; yet they do not scruple, after certain expiatory rites, to eat bear's flesh. other north american examples are the kutchin, who have always possessed the system of totems.( ) ( ) kip's jesuits in america i. . ( ) dall's alaska, pp. - . it is to be noticed, as a peculiarity of red indian totemism which we have not observed (though it may exist) in africa, that certain stocks claim relations with the sun. thus pere le petit, writing from new orleans in , mentions the sun, or great chief of the natchez indians.( ) the totem of the privileged class among the natchez was the sun, and in all myths the sun is regarded as a living being, who can have children, who may be beaten, who bleeds when cut, and is simply on the same footing as men and everything else in the world. precisely similar evidence comes from south america. in this case our best authority is almost beyond suspicion. he knew the native languages well, being himself a half-caste. he was learned in the european learning of his time; and as a son of the incas, he had access to all surviving peruvian stores of knowledge, and could collect without difficulty the testimonies of his countrymen. it will be seen( ) that don garcilasso de la vega could estimate evidence, and ridiculed the rough methods and fallacious guesses of spanish inquirers. garcilasso de la vega was born about , being the son of an inca princess and of a spanish conqueror. his book, commentarias reales,( ) was expressly intended to rectify the errors of such spanish writers as acosta. in his account of peruvian religion, garcilasso distinguishes between the beliefs of the tribes previous to the rise of the inca empire and the sun-worship of the incas. but it is plain, from garcilasso's own account and from other evidence, that under the incas the older faiths and fetichisms survived, in subordination to sun-worship, just as pagan superstitions survived in custom and folk-lore after the official recognition of christianity. sun-worship, in peru, and the belief in a supreme creator there, seem even, like catholicism in mexico, china and elsewhere, to have made a kind of compromise with the lower beliefs, and to have been content to allow a certain amount of bowing down in the temples of the elder faiths. according, then, to garcilasso's account of peruvian totemism, "an indian was not looked upon as honourable unless he was descended from a fountain, river,( ) or lake, or even from the sea, or from a wild animal, such as a bear, lion, tiger, eagle, or the bird they call cuntur (condor), or some other bird of prey ".( ) a certain amount of worship was connected with this belief in kinship with beasts and natural objects. men offered up to their totems "what they usually saw them eat".( ) on the seacoasts "they worshipped sardines, skates, dog-fish, and, for want of larger gods, crabs.... there was not an animal, how vile and filthy soever, that they did not worship as a god," including "lizards, toads and frogs." garcilasso (who says they ate the fish they worshipped) gives his own theory of the origin of totemism. in the beginning men had only sought for badges whereby to discriminate one human stock from another. "the one desired to have a god different from the other.... they only thought of making one different from another." when the inca emperors began to civilise the totemistic stocks, they pointed out that their own father, the sun, possessed "splendour and beauty" as contrasted with "the ugliness and filth of the frogs and other vermin they looked upon as gods".( ) garcilasso, of course, does not use the north american word totem (or ote or otem) for the family badge which represented the family ancestors. he calls these things, as a general rule, pacarissa. the sun was the pacarissa of the incas, as it was of the chief of the natchez. the pacarissa of other stocks was the lion, bear, frog, or what not. garcilasso accounts for the belief accorded to the incas, when they claimed actual descent from the sun, by observing( ) that "there were tribes among their subjects who professed similar fabulous descents, though they did not comprehend how to select ancestors so well as the incas, but adored animals and other low and earthly objects". as to the fact of the peruvian worship of beasts, if more evidence is wanted, it is given, among others, by cieza de leon,( ) who contrasts the adoration of the roman gods with that offered in peru to brutes. "in the important temple of pacha-camac (the spiritual deity of peru) they worshipped a she-fox or vixen and an emerald." the devil also "appeared to them and spoke in the form of a tiger, very fierce". other examples of totemism in south america may be studied in the tribes on the amazon.( ) mr. wallace found the pineapple stock, the mosquitoes, woodpeckers, herons, and other totem kindreds. a curious example of similar ideas is discovered among the bonis of guiana. these people were originally west coast africans imported as slaves, who have won their freedom with the sword. while they retain a rough belief in gadou (god) and didibi (the devil), they are divided into totem stocks with animal names. the red ape, turtle and cayman are among the chief totems.( ) ( ) kip, ii. . ( ) appendix b. ( ) see translation in hakluyt society's collection. ( ) like many greek heroes. odyssey, iii. . "orsilochus, the child begotten of alpheus." ( ) comm. real., i. . ( ) ibid., . ( ) ibid., . ( ) ibid., . ( ) cieza de leon (hakluyt society), p. . ( ) acuna, p. ; wallace, travels on amazon ( ), pp. - . ( ) crevaux, voyages dans l'amerique du sud, p. . after this hasty examination of the confused belief in kinship with animals and other natural objects which underlies institutions in australia, west and south africa, north and south america, we may glance at similar notions among the non-aryan races of india. in dalton's ethnology of bengal,( ) he tells us that the garo clans are divided into maharis or motherhoods. children belong to the mahari of the mother, just as (in general) they derive their stock name and totem from the mother's side in australia and among the north american indians. no man may marry (as among the red indians and australians) a woman belonging to his own stock, motherhood or mahari. so far the maharis of bengal exactly correspond to the totem kindred. but do the maharis also take their names from plants and animals, and so forth? we know that the killis, similar communities among the bengal hos and mundos, do this.( ) "the mundaris, like the oraons, adopt as their tribal distinction the name of some animal, and the flesh of that animal is tabooed to them as food; for example, the eel, the tortoise." this is exactly the state of things in ashanti. dalton mentions also( ) a princely family in nagpur which claims descent from "a great hooded snake". among the oraons he found( ) tribes which might not eat young mice (considered a dainty) or tortoises, and a stock which might not eat the oil of the tree which was their totem, nor even sit in its shade. "the family or tribal names" (within which they may not marry) "are usually those of animals or plants, and when this is the case, the flesh of some part of the animal or the fruit of the tree is tabooed to the tribe called after it." ( ) dalton, p. . ( ) ibid., p. . ( ) ibid., p. . ( ) ibid., p. . an excellent sketch of totemism in india is given by mr. h. h. risley of the bengal civil service:--( ) ( ) the asiatic quarterly, no. , essay on "primitive marriage in bengal." "at the bottom of the social system, as understood by the average hindu, stands a large body of non-aryan castes and tribes, each of which is broken up into a number of what may be called totemistic exogamous septs. each sept bears the name of an animal, a tree, a plant, or of some material object, natural or artificial, which the members of that sept are prohibited from killing, eating, cutting, burning, carrying, using, etc."( ) ( ) here we may note that the origin of exogamy itself is merely part of a strict totemistic prohibition. a man may not "use" an object within the totem kin, nor a woman of the kin. compare the greek idiom (greek text omitted). mr. risley finds that both kolarians, as the sonthals, and dravidians, as the oraons, are in this state of totemism, like the hos and mundas. it is most instructive to learn that, as one of these tribes rises in the social scale, it sloughs off its totem, and, abandoning the common name derived from bird, beast, or plant, adopts that of an eponymous ancestor. a tendency in this direction has been observed by messrs. fison and howitt even in australia. the mahilis, koras and kurmis, who profess to be members of the hindu community, still retain the totemistic organisation, with names derived from birds, beasts and plants. even the jagannathi kumhars of orissa, taking rank immediately below the writer-caste, have the totems tiger, snake, weasel, cow, frog, sparrow and tortoise. the sub-castes of the khatlya kumhars explain away their totem-names "as names of certain saints, who, being present at daksha's horse-sacrifice, transformed themselves into animals to escape the wrath of siva," like the gods of egypt when they fled in bestial form from the wrath of set. among the non-aryan tribes the marriage law has the totemistic sanction. no man may marry a woman of his totem kin. when the totem-name is changed for an eponym, the non-aryan, rising in the social scale, is practically in the same position as the brahmans, "divided into exogamous sections (gotras), the members of which profess to be descended from the mythical rishi or inspired saint whose name the gotra bears". there is thus nothing to bar the conjecture that the exogamous gotras of the whole brahmans were once a form of totem-kindred, which (like aspiring non-aryan stocks at the present day) dropped the totem-name and renamed the septs from some eponymous hero, medicine-man, or rishi. constant repetition of the same set of facts becomes irksome, and yet is made necessary by the legitimate demand for trustworthy and abundant evidence. as the reader must already have reflected, this living mythical belief in the common confused equality of men, gods, plants, beasts, rivers, and what not, which still regulates savage society,( ) is one of the most prominent features in mythology. porphyry remarked and exactly described it among the egyptians--"common and akin to men and gods they believed the beasts to be."( ) the belief in such equality is alien to modern civilisation. we have shown that it is common and fundamental in savagery. for instance, in the pacific, we might quote turner,( ) and for melanesia, codrington,( ) while for new zealand we have taylor.( ) for the jakuts, along the banks of the lena in northern asia, we have the evidence of strahlenberg, who writes: "each tribe of these people look upon some particular creature as sacred, e.g., a swan, goose, raven, etc., and such is not eaten by that tribe" though the others may eat it.( ) as the majority of our witnesses were quite unaware that the facts they described were common among races of whom many of them had never even heard, their evidence may surely be accepted as valid, especially as the beliefs testified to express themselves in marriage laws, in the blood-feud, in abstinence from food, on pillars over graves, in rude heraldry, and in other obvious and palpable shapes. if we have not made out, by the evidence of institutions, that a confused credulity concerning the equality and kinship of man and the objects in nature is actually a ruling belief among savages, and even higher races, from the lena to the amazon, from the gold coast to queensland, we may despair of ever convincing an opponent. the survival of the same beliefs and institutions among civilised races, aryan and others, will later be demonstrated.( ) if we find that the mythology of civilised races here agrees with the actual practical belief of savages, and if we also find that civilised races retain survivals of the institutions in which the belief is expressed by savages, then we may surely infer that the activity of beasts in the myths of greece springs from the same sources as the similar activity of beasts in the myths of iroquois or kaffirs. that is to say, part of the irrational element in greek myth will be shown to be derived (whether by inheritance or borrowing) from an ascertained condition of savage fancy. ( ) see some very curious and disgusting examples of this confusion in liebrecht's zur volkskunde, pp. , (heilbronn, ). ( ) de abst., ii. . ( ) nineteen years in polynesia, p. , and samoa by the same author. complete totemism is not asserted here, and is denied for melanesia. ( ) journ. anthrop. inst., "religious practices in melanesia". ( ) new zealand, "animal intermarriage with men". ( ) description of asia ( ), p. . ( ) professor robertson smith, kinship in arabia, attempts to show that totemism existed in the semitic races. the topic must be left to orientalists. chapter iv. the mental condition of savages--magic--metamorphosis--metaphysic--psychology. claims of sorcerers--savage scientific speculation--theory of causation--credulity, except as to new religious ideas--"post hoc, ergo propter hoc"--fundamental ideas of magic--examples: incantations, ghosts, spirits--evidence of rank and other institutions in proof of confusions of mind exhibited in magical beliefs. "i mean eftsoons to have a fling at magicians for their abominable lies and monstrous vanities."--pliny, ap. phil. holland. "quoy de ceux qui naturellement se changent en loups, en juments, et puis encores en hommes?"--montaigne, apologie pour raymond de sebonde. the second feature in the savage intellectual condition which we promised to investigate was the belief in magic and sorcery. the world and all the things in it being conceived of vaguely as sensible and rational, are supposed to obey the commands of certain members of each tribe, such as chiefs, jugglers, or conjurors. these conjurors, like zeus or indra, can affect the weather, work miracles, assume what shapes, animal, vegetable, or inorganic, they please, and can metamorphose other persons into similar shapes. it has already been shown that savage man has regarded all things as persons much on a level with himself. it has now to be shown what kind of person he conceives himself to be. he does not look on men as civilised races regard them, that is, as beings with strict limitations. on the other hand, he thinks of certain members of his tribe as exempt from most of the limitations, and capable of working every miracle that tradition has ever attributed to prophets or gods. nor are such miraculous powers, such practical omnipotence, supposed by savages to be at all rare among themselves. though highly valued, miraculous attainments are not believed to be unusual. this must be kept steadily in mind. when myth-making man regards the sky or sun or wind as a person, he does not mean merely a person with the limitations recognised by modern races. he means a person with the miraculous powers of the medicine-man. the sky, sun, wind or other elemental personage can converse with the dead, and can turn himself and his neighbours into animals, stones and trees. to understand these functions and their exercise, it is necessary to examine what may be called savage science, savage metaphysics, and the savage theory of the state of the dead. the medicine-man's supernatural claims are rooted in the general savage view of the world, of what is possible, and of what (if anything) is impossible. the savage, even more than the civilised man, may be described as a creature "moving about in worlds not realised". he feels, no less than civilised man, the need of making the world intelligible, and he is active in his search for causes and effects. there is much "speculation in these eyes that he doth glare withal". this is a statement which has been denied by some persons who have lived with savages. thus mr. bates, in his naturalist on the amazon,( ) writes: "their want of curiosity is extreme.... vicente (an indian companion) did not know the cause of thunder and lightning. i asked him who made the sun, the stars, the trees. he didn't know, and had never heard the subject mentioned in his tribe." but mr. bates admits that even vicente had a theory of the configuration of the world. "the necessity of a theory of the earth and water had been felt, and a theory had been suggested." again, mr. bates says about a certain brazilian tribe, "their sluggish minds seem unable to conceive or feel the want of a theory of the soul"; and he thinks the cause of this indolence is the lack "of a written language or a leisured class". now savages, as a rule, are all in the "leisured class," all sportsmen. mr. herbert spencer, too, has expressed scepticism about the curiosity attributed to savages. the point is important, because, in our view, the medicine-man's powers are rooted in the savage theory of things, and if the savage is too sluggish to invent or half consciously evolve a theory of things, our hypothesis is baseless. again, we expect to find in savage myths the answer given by savages to their own questions. but this view is impossible if savages do not ask themselves, and never have asked themselves, any questions at all about the world. on this topic mr. spencer writes: "along with absence of surprise there naturally goes absence of intelligent curiosity".( ) yet mr. spencer admits that, according to some witnesses, "the dyaks have an insatiable curiosity," the samoans "are usually very inquisitive," and "the tahitians are remarkably curious and inquisitive". nothing is more common than to find travellers complaining that savages, in their ardently inquiring curiosity, will not leave the european for a moment to his own undisturbed devices. mr. spencer's savages, who showed no curiosity, displayed this impassiveness when europeans were trying to make them exhibit signs of surprise. impassivity is a point of honour with many uncivilised races, and we cannot infer that a savage has no curiosity because he does not excite himself over a mirror, or when his european visitors try to swagger with their mechanical appliances. mr. herbert spencer founds, on the statements of mr. bates already quoted, a notion that "the savage, lacking ability to think and the accompanying desire to know, is without tendency to speculate". he backs mr. bates's experience with mungo park's failure to "draw" the negroes about the causes of day and night. they had never indulged a conjecture nor formed an hypothesis on the matter. yet park avers that "the belief in one god is entire and universal among them". this he "pronounces without the smallest shadow of doubt". as to "primitive man," according to mr. spencer, "the need for explanations about surrounding appearances does not occur to him". we have disclaimed all knowledge about "primitive man," but it is easy to show that mr. spencer grounds his belief in the lack of speculation among savages on a frail foundation of evidence. ( ) vol. ii. p. . ( ) sociology, p. . mr. spencer has admitted speculation, or at least curiosity, among new caledonians, new guinea people, dyaks, samoans and tahitians. even where he denies its existence, as among the amazon tribes mentioned by mr. bates, we happen to be able to show that mr. bates was misinformed. another traveller, the american geologist, professor hartt of cornell university, lived long among the tribes of the amazon. but professor hartt did not, like mr. bates, find them at all destitute of theories of things--theories expressed in myths, and testifying to the intellectual activity and curiosity which demands an answer to its questions. professor hartt, when he first became acquainted with the indians of the amazon, knew that they were well supplied with myths, and he set to work to collect them. but he found that neither by coaxing nor by offers of money could he persuade an indian to relate a myth. only by accident, "while wearily paddling up the paranamirim of the ituki," did he hear the steersman telling stories to the oarsmen to keep them awake. professor hartt furtively noted down the tale, and he found that by "setting the ball rolling," and narrating a story himself, he could make the natives throw off reserve and add to his stock of tales. "after one has obtained his first myth, and has learned to recite it accurately and spiritedly, the rest is easy." the tales published by professor hartt are chiefly animal stories, like those current in africa and among the red indians, and hartt even believed that many of the legends had been imported by negroes. but as the majority of the negro myths, like those of the australians, give a "reason why" for the existence of some phenomenon or other, the argument against early man's curiosity and vivacity of intellect is rather injured, even if the amazonian myths were imported from africa. mr. spencer based his disbelief in the intellectual curiosity of the amazonian tribes and of negroes on the reports of mr. bates and of mungo park. but it turns out that both negroes and amazonians have stories which do satisfy an unscientific curiosity, and it is even held that the negroes lent the amazonians these very stories.( ) the kamschadals, according to steller, "give themselves a reason why for everything, according to their own lively fancy, and do not leave the smallest matter uncriticised".( ) as far, then, as mr. spencer's objections apply to existing savages, we may consider them overweighed by the evidence, and we may believe in a naive savage curiosity about the world and desire for explanations of the causes of things. mr. tylor's opinion corroborates our own: "man's craving to know the causes at work in each event he witnesses, the reasons why each state of things he surveys is such as it is and no other, is no product of high civilisation, but a characteristic of his race down to its lowest stages. among rude savages it is already an intellectual appetite, whose satisfaction claims many of the moments not engrossed by war or sport, food or sleep. even in the botocudo or the australian, scientific speculation has its germ in actual experience."( ) it will be shown later that the food of the savage intellectual appetite is offered and consumed in the shape of explanatory myths. ( ) see amazonian tortoise-myth., pp. , , ; and compare mr. harris's preface to nights with uncle remus. ( ) steller, p. . cf. farrer's primitive manners, p. . ( ) primitive culture, i. . but we must now observe that the "actual experience," properly so called, of the savage is so limited and so coloured by misconception and superstition, that his knowledge of the world varies very much from the conceptions of civilised races. he seeks an explanation, a theory of things, based on his experience. but his knowledge of physical causes and of natural laws is exceedingly scanty, and he is driven to fall back upon what we may call metaphysical, or, in many cases "supernatural" explanations. the narrower the range of man's knowledge of physical causes, the wider is the field which he has to fill up with hypothetical causes of a metaphysical or "supernatural" character. these "supernatural" causes themselves the savage believes to be matters of experience. it is to his mind a matter of experience that all nature is personal and animated; that men may change shapes with beasts; that incantations and supernatural beings can cause sunshine and storm. a good example of this is given in charlevoix's work on french canada.( ) charlevoix was a jesuit father and missionary among the hurons and other tribes of north america. he thus describes the philosophy of the red men: "the hurons attribute the most ordinary effects to supernatural causes".( ) in the same page the good father himself attributes the welcome arrival of rainy weather and the cure of certain savage patients to the prayers of pere brebeuf and to the exhibition of the sacraments. charlevoix had considerably extended the field in which natural effects are known to be produced by natural causes. he was much more scientifically minded than his savage flock, and was quite aware that an ordinary clock with a pendulum cannot bring bad luck to a whole tribe, and that a weather-cock is not a magical machine for securing unpleasant weather. the hurons, however, knowing less of natural causes and nothing of modern machinery, were as convinced that his clock was ruining the luck of the tribe and his weather-cock spoiling the weather, as father charlevoix could be of the truth of his own inferences. one or two other anecdotes in the good father's history and letters help to explain the difference between the philosophies of wild and of christian men. the pere brebeuf was once summoned at the instigation of a huron wizard or "medicine-man" before a council of the tribe. his judges told the father that nothing had gone right since he appeared among them. to this brebeuf replied by "drawing the attention of the savages to the absurdity of their principles". he admitted( ) the premise that nothing had turned out well in the tribe since his arrival. "but the reason," said he, "plainly is that god is angry with your hardness of heart." no sooner had the good father thus demonstrated the absurdity of savage principles of reasoning, than the malignant huron wizard fell down dead at his feet! this event naturally added to the confusion of the savages. ( ) histoire de la france-nouvelle. ( ) vol. i. p. . ( ) vol. i. p. . coincidences of this sort have a great effect on savage minds. catlin, the friend of the mandan tribe, mentions a chief who consolidated his power by aid of a little arsenic, bought from the whites. the chief used to prophesy the sudden death of his opponents, which always occurred at the time indicated. the natural results of the administration of arsenic were attributed by the barbarous people to supernatural powers in the possession of the chief.( ) thus the philosophy of savages seeks causas cognoscere rerum, like the philosophy of civilised men, but it flies hastily to a hypothesis of "supernatural" causes which are only guessed at, and are incapable of demonstration. this frame of mind prevails still in civilised countries, as the bishop of nantes showed when, in , he attributed the floods of the loire to "the excesses of the press and the general disregard of sunday". that "supernatural" causes exist and may operate, it is not at all our intention to deny. but the habit of looking everywhere for such causes, and of assuming their interference at will, is the main characteristic of savage speculation. the peculiarity of the savage is that he thinks human agents can work supernaturally, whereas even the bishop reserved his supernatural explanations for the deity. on this belief in man's power to affect events beyond the limits of natural possibility is based the whole theory of magic, the whole power of sorcerers. that theory, again, finds incessant expression in myth, and therefore deserves our attention. ( ) catlin, letters, ii. . the theory requires for its existence an almost boundless credulity. this credulity appears to europeans to prevail in full force among savages. bosman is amazed by the african belief that a spider created the world. moffat is astonished at the south african notion that the sea was accidentally created by a girl. charlevoix says, "les sauvages sont d'une facilite a croire ce qu'on leur dit, que les plus facheuse experiences n'ont jamais pu guerir".( ) but it is a curious fact that while savages are, as a rule, so credulous, they often laugh at the religious doctrines taught them by missionaries. elsewhere they recognise certain essential doctrines as familiar forms of old. dr. moffat remarks, "to speak of the creation, the fall and the resurrection, seemed more fabulous, extravagant and ludicrous to them than their own vain stories of lions and hyaenas." again, "the gospel appeared too preposterous for the most foolish to believe".( ) while the zulus declared that they used to accept their own myths without inquiry,( ) it was a zulu who suggested to bishop colenso his doubts about the historical character of the noachian deluge. hearne( ) knew a red man, matorabhee, who, "though a perfect bigot with regard to the arts and tricks of the jugglers, could yet by no means be impressed with a belief of any part of our religion". lieutenant haggard, r.n., tells the writer that during an eclipse at lamoo he ridiculed the native notion of driving away a beast which devours the moon, and explained the real cause of the phenomenon. but his native friend protested that "he could not be expected to believe such a story". yet other savages aver an old agreement with the belief in a moral creator. ( ) vol. ii. p. . ( ) missionary labours, p. . ( ) callaway, religion of amazulus, i. . ( ) journey among the indians, , p. . we have already seen sufficient examples of credulity in savage doctrines about the equal relations of men and beasts, stars, clouds and plants. the same readiness of belief, which would be surprising in a christian child, has been found to regulate the rudimentary political organisations of grey barbarians. add to this credulity a philosophy which takes resemblance, or contiguity in space, or nearness in time as a sufficient reason for predicating the relations of cause and effect, and we have the basis of savage physical science. yet the metaphysical theories of savages, as expressed in maori, polynesian, and zuni hymns, often amaze us by their wealth of abstract ideas. coincidence elsewhere stands for cause. post hoc, ergo propter hoc, is the motto of the savage philosophy of causation. the untutored reasoner speculates on the principles of the egyptian clergy, as described by herodotus.( ) "the egyptians have discovered more omens and prodigies than any other men; for when aught prodigious occurs, they keep good watch, and write down what follows; and then, if anything like the prodigy be repeated, they expect the same events to follow as before." this way of looking at things is the very essence of superstition. ( ) ii. p. . savages, as a rule, are not even so scientific as the egyptians. when an untoward event occurs, they look for its cause among all the less familiar circumstances of the last few days, and select the determining cause very much at random. thus the arrival of the french missionaries among the hurons was coincident with certain unfortunate events; therefore it was argued that the advent of the missionaries was the cause of the misfortune. when the bechuanas suffered from drought, they attributed the lack of rain to the arrival of dr. moffat, and especially to his beard, his church bell, and a bag of salt in his possession. here there was not even the pretence of analogy between cause and effect. some savages might have argued (it is quite in their style), that as salt causes thirst, a bag of salt causes drought; but no such case could be made out against dr. moffat's bell and beard. to give an example from the beliefs of english peasants. when a cottage was buried by a little avalanche in , the accident was attributed to the carelessness of the cottagers, who had allowed a light to be taken out of their dwelling in christmas-tide.( ) we see the same confusion between antecedence and consequence in time on one side, and cause and effect on the other, when the red indians aver that birds actually bring winds and storms or fair weather. they take literally the sense of the rhodian swallow-song:-- the swallow hath come, bringing fair hours, bringing fair seasons, on black back and white breast.( ) ( ) shropshire folk-lore, by miss burne, iii. . ( ) brinton, myths of new world, p. . again, in the pacific the people of one island always attribute hurricanes to the machinations of the people of the nearest island to windward. the wind comes from them; therefore (as their medicine-men can notoriously influence the weather), they must have sent the wind. this unneighbourly act is a casus belli, and through the whole of a group of islands the banner of war, like the flag of freedom in byron, flies against the wind. the chief principle, then, of savage science is that antecedence and consequence in time are the same as effect and cause.( ) again, savage science holds that like affects like, that you can injure a man, for example, by injuring his effigy. on these principles the savage explains the world to himself, and on these principles he tries to subdue to himself the world. now the putting of these principles into practice is simply the exercise of art magic, an art to which nothing seems impossible. the belief that his shamans or medicine-men practise this art is universal among savages. it seriously affects their conduct, and is reflected in their myths. ( ) see account of zuni metaphysics in chapter on american divine myths. the one general rule which governs all magical reasoning is, that casual connection in thought is equivalent to causative connection in fact. like suggests like to human thought by association of ideas; wherefore like influences like, or produces analogous effects in practice. any object once in a man's possession, especially his hair or his nails, is supposed to be capable of being used against him by a sorcerer. the part suggests the whole. a lock of a man's hair was part of the man; to destroy the hair is to destroy its former owner. again, whatever event follows another in time suggests it, and may have been caused by it. accompanying these ideas is the belief that nature is peopled by invisible spiritual powers, over which magicians and sorcerers possess influence. the magic of the lower races chiefly turns on these two beliefs. first, "man having come to associate in thought those things which he found by experience to be connected in fact, proceeded erroneously to invert their action, and to conclude that association in thought must involve similar connection in reality. he thus attempted to discover, to foretell, and to cause events, by means of processes which we now see to have only an ideal significance."( ) secondly, man endeavoured to make disembodied spirits of the dead, or any other spirits, obedient to his will. savage philosophy presumes that the beliefs are correct, and that their practical application is successful. examples of the first of the two chief magical ideas are as common in unscientific modern times or among unscientific modern people as in the savage world. ( ) primitive culture, i. . the physicians of the age of charles ii. were wont to give their patients "mummy powder," that is, pulverised mummy. they argued that the mummy had lasted for a very long time, and that the patients ought to do so likewise. pliny imagined that diamonds must be found in company with gold, because these are the most perfect substances in the world, and like should draw to like. aurum potabile, or drinkable gold, was a favourite medical nostrum of the middle ages, because gold, being perfect, should produce perfect health. among savages the belief that like is caused by like is exemplified in very many practices. the new caledonians, when they wish their yam plots to be fertile, bury in them with mystic ceremonies certain stones which are naturally shaped like yams. the melanesians have reduced this kind of magic to a system. among them certain stones have a magical efficacy, which is determined in each case by the shape of the stone. "a stone in the shape of a pig, of a bread-fruit, of a yam, was a most valuable find. no garden was planted without the stones which were to increase the crop."( ) stones with a rude resemblance to beasts bring the zuni luck in the chase. ( ) rev. r. h. codrington, journ. anth. inst., february, . the spiritual theory in some places is mixed up with the "like to like" theory, and the magical stones are found where the spirits have been heard twittering and whistling. "a large stone lying with a number of small ones under it, like a sow among her sucklings, was good for a childless woman."( ) it is the savage belief that stones reproduce their species, a belief consonant with the general theory of universal animation and personality. the ancient belief that diamonds gendered diamonds is a survival from these ideas. "a stone with little disks upon it was good to bring in money; any fanciful interpretation of a mark was enough to give a character to the stone and its associated vui" or spirit in melanesia. in scotland, stones shaped like various parts of the human body are expected to cure the diseases with which these members may be afflicted. "these stones were called by the names of the limbs which they represented, as 'eye-stone,' 'head-stone'." the patient washed the affected part of the body, and rubbed it well with the stone corresponding.( ) ( ) codrington, journ. anth. soc., x. iii. . ( ) gregor, folk-lore of north-east counties, p. . to return from european peasant-magic to that of savages, we find that when the bushmen want wet weather they light fires, believing that the black smoke clouds will attract black rain clouds; while the zulus sacrifice black cattle to attract black clouds of rain.( ) though this magic has its origin in savage ignorance, it survives into civilisation. thus the sacrifices of the vedic age were imitations of the natural phenomena which the priests desired to produce.( ) "c'etait un moyen de faire tombre la pluie en realisant, par les representations terrestres des eaux du nuage et de l'eclair, les conditions dans lesquelles celui-ci determine dans le ciel l'epanchement de celles-la." a good example of magical science is afforded by the medical practice of the dacotahs of north america.( ) when any one is ill, an image of his disease, a boil or what not, is carved in wood. this little image is then placed in a bowl of water and shot at with a gun. the image of the disease being destroyed, the disease itself is expected to disappear. compare the magic of the philistines, who made golden images of the sores which plagued them and stowed them away in the ark.( ) the custom of making a wax statuette of an enemy, and piercing it with pins or melting it before the fire, so that the detested person might waste as his semblance melted, was common in mediaeval europe, was known to plato, and is practised by negroes. some australians take some of the hair of an enemy, mix it with grease and the feathers of the eagle, and burn it in the fire. this is "bar" or black magic. the boarding under the chair of a magistrate in barbadoes was lifted not long ago, and the ground beneath was found covered with wax images of litigants stuck full of pins. ( ) callaway, i. . ( ) bergaigne, religion vedique, i. - , i., vii., viii. ( ) schoolcraft, iv. . ( ) samuel vi. , . the war-magic of the dacotahs works in a similar manner. before a party starts on the war-trail, the chief, with various ceremonies, takes his club and stands before his tent. an old witch bowls hoops at him; each hoop represents an enemy, and for each he strikes a foeman is expected to fall. a bowl of sweetened water is also set out to entice the spirits of the enemy.( ) the war-magic of the aryans in india does not differ much in character from that of the dacotahs. "if any one wishes his army to be victorious, he should go beyond the battle-line, cut a stalk of grass at the top and end, and throw it against the hostile army with the words, prasahe kas trapasyati?--o prasaha, who sees thee? if one who has such knowledge cuts a stalk of grass and throws the parts at the hostile army, it becomes split and dissolved, just as a daughter-in-law becomes abashed and faints when seeing her father-in-law,"--an allusion, apparently, to the widespread tabu which makes fathers-in-law, daughters-in-law, sons-in-law, and mothers-in-law avoid each other.( ) ( ) schoolcraft, iv. . ( ) aitareya brahmana, iii. . the hunt-dances of the red indians and australians are arranged like their war-magic. effigies of the bears, deer, or kangaroos are made, or some of the hunters imitate the motions of these animals. the rest of the dancers pretend to spear them, and it is hoped that this will ensure success among the real bears and kangaroos. here is a singular piece of magic in which europeans and australian blacks agree. boris godunoff made his servants swear never to injure him by casting spells with the dust on which his feet or his carriage wheels had left traces.( ) mr. howitt finds the same magic among the kurnai.( ) "seeing a tatungolung very lame, i asked him what was the matter. he said, 'some fellow has put bottle in my foot'. i found he was probably suffering from acute rheumatism. he explained that some enemy must have found his foot-track and have buried in it a piece of broken bottle. the magic influence, he believed, caused it to enter his foot." on another occasion a native told mr. howitt that he had seen black fellows putting poison in his foot-tracks. bosman mentions a similar practice among the people of guinea. in scottish folk-lore a screw nail is fixed into the footprint of the person who is to be injured. ( ) rambaud's history of russia, english trans., i. . ( ) kamilaroi and kurnai, p. . just as these magical efforts to influence like by like work their way into vedic and other religions, so they are introduced into the religion of the savage. his prayers are addresses to some sort of superior being, but the efficacy of the prayer is often eked out by a little magic, unless indeed we prefer to suppose that the words of the supplication are interpreted by gesture-speech. sproat writes: "set words and gestures are used according to the thing desired. for instance, in praying for salmon, the native rubs the backs of his hands, looks upwards, and mutters the words, 'many salmon, many salmon'. if he wishes for deer, he carefully rubs both eyes; or, if it is geese, he rubs the back of his shoulder, uttering always in a sing-song way the accustomed formula.... all these practices in praying no doubt have a meaning. we may see a steady hand is needed in throwing the salmon-spear, and clear eyesight in finding deer in the forest."( ) ( ) savage life, p. . in addition to these forms of symbolical magic (which might be multiplied to any extent), we find among savages the belief in the power of songs of incantation. this is a feature of magic which specially deserves our attention. in myths, and still more in marchen or household tales, we shall constantly find that the most miraculous effects are caused when the hero pronounces a few lines of rhyme. in rome, as we have all read in the latin delectus, it was thought that incantations could draw down the moon. in the odyssey the kinsfolk of odysseus sing "a song of healing" over the wound which was dealt him by the boar's tusk. jeanne d'arc, wounded at orleans, refused a similar remedy. sophocles speaks of the folly of muttering incantations over wounds that need the surgeon's knife. the song that salved wounds occurs in the kalewala, the epic poem of the finns. in many of grimm's marchen, miracles are wrought by the repetition of snatches of rhyme. this belief is derived from the savage state of fancy. according to kohl,( ) "every sorrowful or joyful emotion that opens the indian's mouth is at once wrapped up in the garb of a wabanonagamowin (chanson magicale). if you ask one of them to sing you a simple innocent hymn in praise of nature, a spring or jovial hunting stave, he never gives you anything but a form of incantation, with which he says you will be able to call to you all the birds from the sky, and all the foxes and wolves from their caves and burrows."( ) the giant's daughter in the scotch marchen, nicht, nought, nothing, is thus enabled to call to her aid "all the birds of the sky". in the same way, if you ask an indian for a love-song, he will say that a philtre is really much more efficacious. the savage, in short, is extremely practical. his arts, music and drawing, exist not pour l'art, but for a definite purpose, as methods of getting something that the artist wants. the young lover whom kohl knew, like the lover of bombyca in theocritus, believed in having an image of himself and an image of the beloved. into the heart of the female image he thrust magic powders, and he said that this was common, lovers adding songs, "partly elegiac, partly malicious, and almost criminal forms of incantation".( ) ( ) page . ( ) cf. comparetti's traditional poetry of the finns. ( ) kitchi gami, pp. , . among the indo-aryans the masaminik or incantations of the red man are known as mantras.( ) these are usually texts from the veda, and are chanted over the sick and in other circumstances where magic is believed to be efficacious. among the new zealanders the incantations are called karakias, and are employed in actual life. there is a special karakia to raise the wind. in maori myths the hero is very handy with his karakia. rocks split before him, as before girls who use incantations in kaffir and bushman tales. he assumes the shape of any animal at will, or flies in the air, all by virtue of the karakia or incantation.( ) ( ) muir, sanskrit texts, v. , "incantations from the atharva veda". ( ) taylor's new zealand; theal's kaffir folk-lore, south-african folk-lore journal, passim; shortland's traditions of the new zealanders, pp. - . without multiplying examples in the savage belief that miracles can be wrought by virtue of physical correspondances, by like acting on like, by the part affecting the whole, and so forth, we may go on to the magical results produced by the aid of spirits. these may be either spirits of the dead or spiritual essences that never animated mortal men. savage magic or science rests partly on the belief that the world is peopled by a "choir invisible," or rather by a choir only occasionally visible to certain gifted people, sorcerers and diviners. an enormous amount of evidence to prove the existence of these tenets has been collected by mr. tylor, and is accessible to all in the chapters on "animism" in his primitive culture. it is not our business here to account for the universality of the belief in spirits. mr. tylor, following lucretius and homer, derives the belief from the reasonings of early men on the phenomena of dreams, fainting, shadows, visions caused by narcotics, hallucinations, and other facts which suggest the hypothesis of a separable life apart from the bodily organism. it would scarcely be fair not to add that the kind of "facts" investigated by the psychical society--such "facts" as the appearance of men at the moment of death in places remote from the scene of their decease, with such real or delusive experiences as the noises and visions in haunted houses--are familiar to savages. without discussing these obscure matters, it may be said that they influence the thoughts even of some scientifically trained and civilised men. it is natural, therefore, that they should strongly sway the credulous imagination of backward races, in which they originate or confirm the belief that life can exist and manifest itself after the death of the body.( ) ( ) see the author's making of religion, . some examples of savage "ghost-stories," precisely analogous to the "facts" of the psychical society's investigations, may be adduced. the first is curious because it offers among the kanekas an example of a belief current in breton folk-lore. the story is vouched for by mr. j. j. atkinson, late of noumea, new caledonia. mr. atkinson, we have reason to believe, was unacquainted with the breton parallel. to him one day a kaneka of his acquaintance paid a visit, and seemed loth to go away. he took leave, returned, and took leave again, till mr. atkinson asked him the reason of his behaviour. he then explained that he was about to die, and would never see his english friend again. as he seemed in perfect health, mr. atkinson rallied him on his hypochondria; but the poor fellow replied that his fate was sealed. he had lately met in the wood one whom he took for the kaneka girl of his heart; but he became aware too late that she was no mortal woman, but a wood-spirit in the guise of the beloved. the result would be his death within three days, and, as a matter of fact, he died. this is the groundwork of the old breton ballad of le sieur nan, who dies after his intrigue with the forest spectre.( ) a tale more like a common modern ghost-story is vouched for by mr. c. j. du ve, in australia. in the year , a maneroo black fellow died in the service of mr. du ve. "the day before he died, having been ill some time, he said that in the night his father, his father's friend, and a female spirit he could not recognise, had come to him and said that he would die next day, and that they would wait for him. mr. du ye adds that, though previously the christian belief had been explained to this man, it had entirely faded, and that he had gone back to the belief of his childhood." mr. fison, who prints this tale in his kamilaroi and kurnai,( ) adds, "i could give many similar instances which have come within my own knowledge among the fijians, and, strange to say, the dying man in all these cases kept his appointment with the ghosts to the very day". ( ) it may, of course, be conjectured that the french introduced this belief into new caledonia. ( ) page . in the cruise of the beagle is a parallel anecdote of a fuegian, jimmy button, and his father's ghost. without entering into a discussion of ghosts, it is plain that the kind of evidence, whatever its value may be, which convinces many educated europeans of the existence of "veridical" apparitions has also played its part in the philosophy of uncivilised races. on this belief in apparitions, then, is based the power of the savage sorcerers and necromants, of the men who converse with the dead and are aided by disembodied spirits. these men have greatly influenced the beginnings of mythology. among certain australian tribes the necromants are called birraark.( ) "the kurnai tell me," says mr. howitt, "that a birraark was supposed to be initiated by the 'mrarts (ghosts) when they met him wandering in the bush.... it was from the ghosts that he obtained replies to questions concerning events passing at a distance or yet to happen, which might be of interest or moment to his tribe." mr. howitt prints an account of a spiritual seance in the bush.( ) "the fires were let go down. the birraark uttered a cry 'coo-ee' at intervals. at length a distant reply was heard, and shortly afterwards the sound as of persons jumping on the ground in succession. a voice was then heard in the gloom asking in a strange intonation, 'what is wanted?' questions were put by the birraark and replies given. at the termination of the seance, the spirit-voice said, 'we are going'. finally, the birraark was found in the top of an almost inaccessible tree, apparently asleep."( ) there was one birraark at least to every clan. the kurnai gave the name of "brewin" (a powerful evil spirit) to a birraark who was once carried away for several days by the mrarts or spirits.( ) it is a belief with the australians, as, according to bosman, it was with the people of the gold coast, that a very powerful wizard lives far inland, and the negroes held that to this warlock the spirits of the dead went to be judged according to the merit of their actions in life. here we have a doctrine answering to the greek belief in "the wizard minos," aeacus, and rhadamanthus, and to the egyptian idea of osiris as judge of the departed.( ) the pretensions of the sorcerer to converse with the dead are attested by mr. brough smyth.( ) "a sorcerer lying on his stomach spoke to the deceased, and the other sitting by his side received the precious messages which the dead man told." as a natural result of these beliefs, the australian necromant has great power in the tribe. mr. howitt mentions a case in which a group of kindred, ceasing to use their old totemistic surname, called themselves the children of a famous dead birraark, who thus became an eponymous hero, like ion among the ionians.( ) among the scotch highlanders the position and practice of the seer were very like those of the birraark. "a person," says scott,( ) "was wrapped up in the skin of a newly slain bullock and deposited beside a waterfall or at the bottom of a precipice, or in some other strange, wild and unusual situation, where the scenery around him suggested nothing but objects of horror. in this situation he revolved in his mind the question proposed and whatever was impressed on him by his exalted imagination passed for the inspiration of the disembodied spirits who haunt these desolate recesses." a number of examples are given in martin's description of the western islands.( ) in the century magazine (july, ) is a very full report of thlinkeet medicine-men and metamorphoses. ( ) kamilaroi and kurnai, p. . ( ) page . ( ) in the jesuit relations ( ), p. , we read that the red indian sorcerer or jossakeed was credited with power to vanish suddenly away out of sight of the men standing around him. of him, as of homeric gods, it might be said, "who has power to see him come or go against his will?" ( ) here, in the first edition, occurred the following passage: "the conception of brewin is about as near as the kurnai get to the idea of a god; their conferring of his name on a powerful sorcerer is therefore a point of importance and interest". mr. howitt's later knowledge demonstrates an error here. ( ) bosman in pinkerton, xvi. p. . ( ) aborigines of australia, i. . ( ) in victoria, after dark the wizard goes up to the clouds and brings down a good spirit. dawkins, p. . for eponymous medicine-men see kamilaroi and kurnai, p. . ( ) lady of the lake, note to canto iv. ( ) p. . the sorcerer among the zulus is, apparently, of a naturally hysterical and nervous constitution. "he hears the spirits who speak by whistlings speaking to him."( ) whistling is also the language of the ghosts in new caledonia, where mr. atkinson informs us that he has occasionally put an able-bodied kaneka to ignominious flight by whistling softly in the dusk. the ghosts in homer make a similar sound, "and even as bats flit gibbering in the secret place of a wondrous cavern,... even so the souls gibbered as they fared together" (odyssey, xxiv. ). "the familiar spirits make him" (that zulu sorcerer) "acquainted with what is about to happen, and then he divines for the people." as the birraarks learn songs and dance-music from the mrarts, so the zulu inyanga or diviners learn magical couplets from the itongo or spirits.( ) ( ) callaway, religious system of the amazules, p. . ( ) on all this, see "possession" in the making of religion. the evidence of institutions confirms the reports about savage belief in magic. the political power of the diviners is very great, as may be observed from the fact that a hereditary chief needs their consecration to make him a chief de jure.( ) in fact, the qualities of the diviner are those which give his sacred authority to the chief. when he has obtained from the diviners all their medicines and information as to the mode of using the isitundu (a magical vessel), it is said that he often orders them to be killed. now, the chief is so far a medicine-man that he is lord of the air. "the heaven is the chief's," say the zulus; and when he calls out his men, "though the heaven is clear, it becomes clouded by the great wind that arises". other zulus explain this as the mere hyperbole of adulation. "the word of the chief gives confidence to his troops; they say, 'we are going; the chief has already seen all that will happen in his vessel'. such then are chiefs; they use a vessel for divination."( ) the makers of rain are known in zululand as "heaven-herds" or "sky-herds," who herd the heaven that it may not break out and do its will on the property of the people. these men are, in fact, (greek text omitted), "cloud-gatherers," like the homeric zeus, the lord of the heavens. their name of "herds of the heavens" has a vedic sound. "the herd that herds the lightning," say the zulus, "does the same as the herder of the cattle; he does as he does by whistling; he says, 'tshu-i-i-i. depart and go yonder. do not come here.'" here let it be observed that the zulus conceive of the thunder-clouds and lightning as actual creatures, capable of being herded like sheep. there is no metaphor or allegory about the matter,( ) and no forgetfulness of the original meaning of words. the cloud-herd is just like the cowherd, except that not every man, but only sorcerers, and they who have eaten the "lightning-bird" (a bird shot near the place where lightning has struck the earth), can herd the clouds of heaven. the same ideas prevail among the bushmen, where the rainmaker is asked "to milk a nice gentle female rain"; the rain-clouds are her hair. among the bushmen rain is a person. among the red indians no metaphor seems to be intended when it is said that "it is always birds who make the wind, except that of the east". the dacotahs once killed a thunder-bird( ) behind little crow's village on the missouri. it had a face like a man with a nose like an eagle's bill.( ) ( ) callaway, p. . ( ) callaway, religions system of the amazules, p. . ( ) ibid., p. . ( ) schoolcraft, iii. . ( ) compare callaway, p. . the political and social powers which come into the hands of the sorcerers are manifest, even in the case of the australians. tribes and individuals can attempt few enterprises without the aid of the man who listens to the ghosts. only he can foretell the future, and, in the case of the natural death of a member of the tribe, can direct the vengeance of the survivors against the hostile magician who has committed a murder by "bar" or magic. among the zulus we have seen that sorcery gives the sanction to the power of the chief. "the winds and weather are at the command" of bosman's "great fetisher". inland from the gold coast,( ) the king of loango, according to the abbe proyart, "has credit to make rain fall on earth". similar beliefs, with like political results, will be found to follow from the superstition of magic among the red indians of north america. the difficulty of writing about sorcerers among the red indians is caused by the abundance of the evidence. charlevoix and the other early jesuit missionaries found that the jongleurs, as charlevoix calls the jossakeeds or medicine-men, were their chief opponents. as among the scotch highlanders, the australians and the zulus, the red indian jongleur is visited by the spirits. he covers a hut with the skin of the animal which he commonly wears, retires thither, and there converses with the bodiless beings.( ) the good missionary like mr. moffat in africa, was convinced that the exercises of the jossakeeds were verily supernatural. "ces seducteurs ont un veritable commerce avec le pere du mensonge."( ) this was denied by earlier and wiser jesuit missionaries. their political power was naturally great. in time of war "ils avancent et retardent les marches comme il leur plait". in our own century it was a medicine-man, ten squa ta way, who by his magical processes and superstitious rites stirred up a formidable war against the united states.( ) according to mr. pond,( ) the native name of the dacotah medicine-men, "wakan," signifies "men supernaturally gifted". medicine-men are believed to be "wakanised" by mystic intercourse with supernatural beings. the business of the wakanised man is to discern future events, to lead and direct parties on the war-trail, "to raise the storm or calm the tempest, to converse with the lightning or thunder as with familiar friends".( ) the wakanised man, like the australian birraark and the zulu diviner, "dictates chants and prayers". in battle "every dacotah warrior looks to the wakan man as almost his only resource". belief in wakan men is, mr. pond says, universal among the dacotahs, except where christianity has undermined it. "their influence is deeply felt by every individual of the tribe, and controls all their affairs." the wakan man's functions are absorbed by the general or war-chief of the tribe, and in schoolcraft (iv. ), captain eastman prints copies of native scrolls showing the war-chief at work as a wizard. "the war-chief who leads the party to war is always one of these medicine-men." in another passage the medicine-men are described as "having a voice in the sale of land". it must be observed that the jossakeed, or medicine-man, pure and simple, exercises a power which is not in itself hereditary. chieftainship, when associated with inheritance of property, is hereditary; and when the chief, as among the zulus, absorbs supernatural power, then the same man becomes diviner and chief, and is a person of great and sacred influence. the liveliest account of the performances of the maori "tohunga" or sorcerer is to be found in old new zealand,( ) by the pakeha maori, an english gentleman who had lived with the natives like one of themselves. the tohunga, says this author,( ) presided over "all those services and customs which had something approaching to a religious character. they also pretended to power by means of certain familiar spirits, to foretell future events, and even in some cases to control them.... the spirit 'entered into' them, and, on being questioned, gave a response in a sort of half whistling, half-articulate voice, supposed to be the proper language of spirits." in new south wales, mrs. langlot parker has witnessed a similar exhibition. the "spirits" told the truth in this case. the pakeha maori was present in a darkened village-hall when the spirit of a young man, a great friend of his own, was called up by a tohunga. "suddenly, without the slightest warning, a voice came out of the darkness.... the voice all through, it is to be remembered, was not the voice of the tohunga, but a strange melancholy sound, like the sound of a wind blowing into a hollow vessel. 'it is well with me; my place is a good place.' the spirit gave an answer to a question which proved to be correct, and then 'farewell,' cried the spirit from deep beneath the ground. 'farewell,' again, from high in air. 'farewell,' once more came moaning through the distant darkness of the night." as chiefs in new zealand no less than tohungas can exercise the mystical and magical power of tabu, that is, of imparting to any object or person an inviolable character, and can prevent or remit the mysterious punishment for infringement of tabu, it appears probable that in new zealand, as well as among the zulus and red indians, chiefs have a tendency to absorb the sacred character and powers of the tohungas. this is natural enough, for a tohunga, if he plays his cards well, is sure to acquire property and hereditary wealth, which, in combination with magical influence, are the necessary qualifications for the office of the chieftain. ( ) pinkerton, xvi. . ( ) charlevoix, i. . see "savage spiritualism" in cock lane and common sense. ( ) ibid., iii. . ( ) catlin, ii. . ( ) in schoolcraft, iv. . ( ) pond, in schoolcraft, iv. . ( ) auckland, . ( ) page . here is the place to mention a fact which, though at first sight it may appear to have only a social interest, yet bears on the development of mythology. property and rank seem to have been essential to each other in the making of social rank, and where one is absent among contemporary savages, there we do not find the other. as an example of this, we might take the case of two peoples who, like the homeric ethiopians, are the outermost of men, and dwell far apart at the ends of the world. the eskimos and the fuegians, at the extreme north and south of the american continent, agree in having little or no private property and no chiefs. yet magic is providing a kind of basis of rank. the bleak plains of ice and rock are, like attica, "the mother of men without master or lord". among the "house-mates" of the smaller settlements there is no head-man, and in the larger gatherings dr. rink says that "still less than among the house-mates was any one belonging to such a place to be considered a chief". the songs and stories of the eskimo contain the praises of men who have risen up and killed any usurper who tried to be a ruler over his "place-mates". no one could possibly establish any authority on the basis of property, because "superfluous property, implements, etc., rarely existed". if there are three boats in one household, one of the boats is "borrowed" by the community, and reverts to the general fund. if we look at the account of the fuegians described in admiral fitzroy's cruise, we find a similar absence of rank produced by similar causes. "the perfect equality among the individuals composing the tribes must for a long time retard their civilisation.... at present even a piece of cloth is torn in shreds and distributed, and no one individual becomes richer than another. on the other hand, it is difficult to understand how a chief can arise till there is property of some sort by which he might manifest and still increase his authority." in the same book, however, we get a glimpse of one means by which authority can be exercised. "the doctor-wizard of each party has much influence over his companions." among the eskimos this element in the growth of authority also exists. a class of wizards called angakut have power to cause fine weather, and, by the gift of second-sight and magical practices, can detect crimes, so that they necessarily become a kind of civil magistrates. these angekkok or angakut have familiar spirits called torngak, a word connected with the name of their chief spiritual being, torngarsak. the torngak is commonly the ghost of a deceased parent of the sorcerer. "these men," says egede, "are held in great honour and esteem among this stupid and ignorant nation, insomuch that nobody dare ever refuse the strictest obedience when they command him in the name of torngarsak." the importance and actual existence of belief in magic has thus been attested by the evidence of institutions, even among australians, fuegians and eskimos. it is now necessary to pass from examples of tribes who have superstitious respect for certain individuals, but who have no property and no chiefs, to peoples who exhibit the phenomenon of superstitious reverence attached to wealthy rulers or to judges. to take the example of ireland, as described in the senchus mor, we learn that the chiefs, just like the angakut of the eskimos, had "power to make fair or foul weather" in the literal sense of the words.( ) in africa, in the same way, as bosman, the old traveller, says, "as to what difference there is between one negro and another, the richest man is the most honoured," yet the most honoured man has the same magical power as the poor angakuts of the eskimos. ( ) early history of institutions, p. . "in the solomon islands," says dr. codrington, "there is nothing to prevent a common man from becoming a chief, if he can show that he has the mana (supernatural power) for it."( ) ( ) journ. anth. inst., x. iii. , , . though it is anticipating a later stage of this inquiry, we must here observe that the sacredness, and even the magical virtues of barbarous chiefs seem to have descended to the early leaders of european races. the children of odin and of zeus were "sacred kings". the homeric chiefs, like those of the zulus and the red men, and of the early irish and swedes, exercised an influence over the physical universe. homer( ) speaks of "a blameless king, one that fears the gods, and reigns among many men and mighty, and the black earth bears wheat and barley, and the sheep bring forth and fail not, and the sea gives store of fish, and all out of his good sovereignty". ( ) od., xix. . the attributes usually assigned by barbarous peoples to their medicine-men have not yet been exhausted. we have found that they can foresee and declare the future; that they control the weather and the sensible world; that they can converse with, visit and employ about their own business the souls of the dead. it would be easy to show at even greater length that the medicine-man has everywhere the power of metamorphosis. he can assume the shapes of all beasts, birds, fishes, insects and inorganic matters, and he can subdue other people to the same enchantment. this belief obviously rests on the lack of recognised distinction between man and the rest of the world, which we have so frequently insisted on as a characteristic of savage and barbarous thought. examples of accredited metamorphosis are so common everywhere, and so well known, that it would be waste of space to give a long account of them. in primitive culture( ) a cloud of witnesses to the belief in human tigers, hyaenas, leopards and wolves is collected.( ) mr. lane( ) found metamorphosis by wizards as accredited a working belief at cairo as it is among abipones, eskimo, or the people of ashangoland. in various parts of scotland there is a tale of a witch who was shot at when in the guise of a hare. in this shape she was wounded, and the same wound was found on her when she resumed her human appearance. lafitau, early in the last century, found precisely the same tale, except that the wizards took the form of birds, not of hares, among the red indians. the birds were wounded by the magical arrows of an old medicine-man, shonnoh koui eretsi, and these bolts were found in the bodies of the human culprits. in japan, as we learn from several stories in mr. mitford's tales of old japan, people chiefly metamorphose themselves into foxes and badgers. the sorcerers of honduras( ) "possess the power of transforming men into wild beasts, and were much feared accordingly". among the cakchiquels, a cultivated people of guatemala, the very name of the clergy, haleb, was derived from their power of assuming animal shapes, which they took on as easily as the homeric gods.( ) regnard, the french dramatist, who travelled among the lapps at the end of the seventeenth century ( ), says: "they believe witches can turn men into cats;" and again, "under the figures of swans, crows, falcons and geese, they call up tempests and destroy ships".( ) among the bushmen "sorcerers assume the forms of beasts and jackals".( ) dobrizhoffer ( - ), a missionary in paraguay, found that "sorcerers arrogate to themselves the power of transforming themselves into tigers".( ) he was present when the abipones believed that a conversion of this sort was actually taking place: "alas," cried the people, "his whole body is beginning to be covered with tiger-spots; his nails are growing". near loanda, livingstone found that a "chief may metamorphose himself into a lion, kill any one he choses, and then resume his proper form".( ) among the barotse and balonda, "while persons are still alive they may enter into lions and alligators".( ) among the mayas of central america "sorcerers could transform themselves into dogs, pigs and other animals; their glance was death to a victim".( ) the thlinkeets think that their shamans can metamorphose themselves into animals at pleasure; and a very old raven was pointed out to mr. c. e. s. wood as an incarnation of the soul of a shaman.( ) sir a. c. lyall finds a similar belief in flourishing existence in india. the european superstition of the were-wolf is too well known to need description. perhaps the most curious legend is that told by giraldus cambrensis about a man and his wife metamorphosed into wolves by an abbot. they retained human speech, made exemplary professions of christian faith, and sent for priests when they found their last hours approaching. in an old norman ballad a girl is transformed into a white doe, and hunted and slain by her brother's hounds. the "aboriginal" peoples of india retain similar convictions. among the hos,( ) an old sorcerer called pusa was known to turn himself habitually into a tiger, and to eat his neighbour's goats, and even their wives. examples of the power of sorcerers to turn, as with the gorgon's head, their enemies into stone, are peculiarly common in america.( ) hearne found that the indians believed they descended from a dog, who could turn himself into a handsome young man.( ) ( ) vol. i. pp. - . ( ) see also m'lennan on lykanthropy in encyclopedia britannica. ( ) arabian nights, i. . ( ) bancroft, races of pacific coast, i. . ( ) brinton, annals of the cakchiquels, p. . ( ) pinkerton, i. . ( ) bleek, brief account of bushman folk-lore, pp. , . ( ) english translation of dobrizhoffer's abipones, i. . ( ) missionary travels, p. . ( ) livingstone, p. . ( ) bancroft, ii. ( ) century magazine, july, . ( ) dalton's ethnology of bengal, p. . ( ) dorman, pp. , ; report of ethnological bureau, washington, - . ( ) a journey, etc., p. . let us recapitulate the powers attributed all over the world, by the lower people, to medicine-men. the medicine-man has all miracles at his command. he rules the sky, he flies into the air, he becomes visible or invisible at will, he can take or confer any form at pleasure, and resume his human shape. he can control spirits, can converse with the dead, and can descend to their abodes. when we begin to examine the gods of mythology, savage or civilised, as distinct from deities contemplated, in devotion, as moral and creative guardians of ethics, we shall find that, with the general, though not invariable addition of immortality, they possess the very same accomplishments as the medicine-man, peay, tohunga, jossakeed, birraark, or whatever name for sorcerer we may choose. among the greeks, zeus, mythically envisaged, enjoys in heaven all the attributes of the medicine-man; among the iroquois, as pere le jeune, the old jesuit missionary, observed,( ) the medicine-man enjoys on earth all the attributes of zeus. briefly, the miraculous and supernatural endowments of the gods of myth, whether these gods be zoomorphic or anthropomorphic, are exactly the magical properties with which the medicine-man is credited by his tribe. it does not at all follow, as euemerus and mr. herbert spencer might argue, that the god was once a real living medicine-man. but myth-making man confers on the deities of myth the magical powers which he claims for himself. ( ) relations ( ), p. . chapter v. nature myths. savage fancy, curiosity and credulity illustrated in nature myths--in these all phenomena are explained by belief in the general animation of everything, combined with belief in metamorphosis--sun myths, asian, australian, african, melanesian, indian, californian, brazilian, maori, samoan--moon myths, australian, muysca, mexican, zulu, macassar, greenland, piute, malay--thunder myths--greek and aryan sun and moon myths--star myths--myths, savage and civilised, of animals, accounting for their marks and habits--examples of custom of claiming blood kinship with lower animals--myths of various plants and trees--myths of stones, and of metamorphosis into stones, greek, australian and american--the whole natural philosophy of savages expressed in myths, and survives in folk-lore and classical poetry; and legends of metamorphosis. the intellectual condition of savages which has been presented and established by the evidence both of observers and of institutions, may now be studied in savage myths. these myths, indeed, would of themselves demonstrate that the ideas which the lower races entertain about the world correspond with our statement. if any one were to ask himself, from what mental conditions do the following savage stories arise? he would naturally answer that the minds which conceived the tales were curious, indolent, credulous of magic and witchcraft, capable of drawing no line between things and persons, capable of crediting all things with human passions and resolutions. but, as myths analogous to those of savages, when found among civilised peoples, have been ascribed to a psychological condition produced by a disease of language acting after civilisation had made considerable advances, we cannot take the savage myths as proof of what savages think, believe and practice in the course of daily life. to do so would be, perhaps, to argue in a circle. we must therefore study the myths of the undeveloped races in themselves. these myths form a composite whole, so complex and so nebulous that it is hard indeed to array them in classes and categories. for example, if we look at myths concerning the origin of various phenomena, we find that some introduce the action of gods or extra-natural beings, while others rest on a rude theory of capricious evolution; others, again, invoke the aid of the magic of mortals, and most regard the great natural forces, the heavenly bodies, and the animals, as so many personal characters capable of voluntarily modifying themselves or of being modified by the most trivial accidents. some sort of arrangement, however, must be attempted, only the student is to understand that the lines are never drawn with definite fixity, that any category may glide into any other category of myth. we shall begin by considering some nature myths--myths, that is to say, which explain the facts of the visible universe. these range from tales about heaven, day, night, the sun and the stars, to tales accounting for the red breast of the ousel, the habits of the quail, the spots and stripes of wild beasts, the formation of rocks and stones, the foliage of trees, the shapes of plants. in a sense these myths are the science of savages; in a sense they are their sacred history; in a sense they are their fiction and romance. beginning with the sun, we find, as mr. tylor says, that "in early philosophy throughout the world the sun and moon are alive, and, as it were, human in their nature".( ) the mass of these solar myths is so enormous that only a few examples can be given, chosen almost at random out of the heap. the sun is regarded as a personal being, capable not only of being affected by charms and incantations, but of being trapped and beaten, of appearing on earth, of taking a wife of the daughters of men. garcilasso de la vega has a story of an inca prince, a speculative thinker, who was puzzled by the sun-worship of his ancestors. if the sun be thus all-powerful, the inca inquired, why is he plainly subject to laws? why does he go his daily round, instead of wandering at large up and down the fields of heaven? the prince concluded that there was a will superior to the sun's will, and he raised a temple to the unknown power. now the phenomena which put the inca on the path of monotheistic religion, a path already traditional, according to garcilasso, have also struck the fancy of savages. why, they ask, does the sun run his course like a tamed beast? a reply suited to a mind which holds that all things are personal is given in myths. some one caught and tamed the sun by physical force or by art magic. ( ) primitive culture, i. . in australia the myth says that there was a time when the sun did not set. "it was at all times day, and the blacks grew weary." norralie considered and decided that the sun should disappear at intervals. he addressed the sun in an incantation (couched like the finnish kalewala in the metre of longfellow's hiawatha); and the incantation is thus interpreted: "sun, sun, burn your wood, burn your internal substance, and go down". the sun therefore now burns out his fuel in a day, and goes below for fresh firewood.( ) ( ) brough smyth, aborigines of victoria, i. . in new zealand the taming of the sun is attributed to the great hero maui, the prometheus of the maoris. he set snares to catch the sun, but in vain, for the sun's rays bit them through. according to another account, while norralie wished to hasten the sun's setting, maui wanted to delay it, for the sun used to speed through the heavens at a racing pace. maui therefore snared the sun, and beat him so unmercifully that he has been lame ever since, and travels slowly, giving longer days. "the sun, when beaten, cried out and revealed his second great name, taura-mis-te-ra."( ) it will be remembered that indra, in his abject terror when he fled after the slaying of vrittra, also revealed his mystic name. in north america the same story of the trapping and laming of the sun is told, and attributed to a hero named tcha-ka-betch. in samoa the sun had a child by a samoan woman. he trapped the sun with a rope made of a vine and extorted presents. another samoan lassoed the sun and made him promise to move more slowly.( ) these samoan and australian fancies are nearly as dignified as the tale in the aitareya brahmana. the gods, afraid "that the sun would fall out of heaven, pulled him up and tied him with five ropes". these ropes are recognised as verses in the ritual, but probably the ritual is later than the ropes. in mexico we find that the sun himself (like the stars in most myths) was once a human or pre-human devotee, nanahuatzin, who leapt into a fire to propitiate the gods.( ) translated to heaven as the sun, nanahuatzin burned so very fiercely that he threatened to reduce the world to a cinder. arrows were therefore shot at him, and this punishment had as happy an effect as the beatings administered by maui and tcha-ka-betch. among the bushmen of south africa the sun was once a man, from whose armpit a limited amount of light was radiated round his hut. some children threw him up into the sky, and there he stuck, and there he shines.( ) in the homeric hymn to helios, as mr. max muller observes, "the poet looks on helios as a half god, almost a hero, who had once lived on earth," which is precisely the view of the bushmen.( ) among the aztecs the sun is said to have been attacked by a hunter and grievously wounded by his arrows.( ) the gallinomeros, in central california, seem at least to know that the sun is material and impersonal. they say that when all was dark in the beginning, the animals were constantly jostling each other. after a painful encounter, the hawk and the coyote collected two balls of inflammable substance; the hawk (indra was occasionally a hawk) flew up with them into heaven, and lighted them with sparks from a flint. there they gave light as sun and moon. this is an exception to the general rule that the heavenly bodies are regarded as persons. the melanesian tale of the bringing of night is a curious contrast to the mexican, maori, australian and american indian stories which we have quoted. in melanesia, as in australia, the days were long, indeed endless, and people grew tired; but instead of sending the sun down below by an incantation when night would follow in course of nature, the melanesian hero went to night (conceived of as a person) and begged his assistance. night (qong) received qat (the hero) kindly, darkened his eyes, gave him sleep, and, in twelve hours or so, crept up from the horizon and sent the sun crawling to the west.( ) in the same spirit paracelsus is said to have attributed night, not to the absence of the sun, but to the apparition of certain stars which radiate darkness. it is extraordinary that a myth like the melanesian should occur in brazil. there was endless day till some one married a girl whose father "the great serpent," was the owner of night. the father sent night bottled up in a gourd. the gourd was not to be uncorked till the messengers reached the bride, but they, in their curiosity, opened the gourd, and let night out prematurely.( ) ( ) taylor, new zealand, p. . ( ) turner, samoa, p. . ( ) sahagun, french trans., vii. ii. ( ) bleck, hottentot fables, p. ; bushman folk-lore, pp. , . ( ) compare a californian solar myth: bancroft, iii. pp. , . ( ) bancroft, iii. , quoting burgoa, i. , . ( ) codrington, journ. anthrop. inst., february, . ( ) contes indiens du bresil, pp. - , by couto de magalhaes. rio de janeiro, . m. henri gaidoz kindly presented the author with this work. the myths which have been reported deal mainly with the sun as a person who shines, and at fixed intervals disappears. his relations with the moon are much more complicated, and are the subject of endless stories, all explaining in a romantic fashion why the moon waxes and wanes, whence come her spots, why she is eclipsed, all starting from the premise that sun and moon are persons with human parts and passions. sometimes the moon is a man, sometimes a woman and the sex of the sun varies according to the fancy of the narrators. different tribes of the same race, as among the australians, have different views of the sex of moon and sun. among the aborigines of victoria, the moon, like the sun among the bushmen, was a black fellow before he went up into the sky. after an unusually savage career, he was killed with a stone hatchet by the wives of the eagle, and now he shines in the heavens.( ) another myth explanatory of the moon's phases was found by mr. meyer in among the natives of encounter bay. according to them the moon is a woman, and a bad woman to boot. she lives a life of dissipation among men, which makes her consumptive, and she wastes away till they drive her from their company. while she is in retreat, she lives on nourishing roots, becomes quite plump, resumes her gay career, and again wastes away. the same tribe, strangely enough, think that the sun also is a woman. every night she descends among the dead, who stand in double lines to greet her and let her pass. she has a lover among the dead, who has presented her with a red kangaroo skin, and in this she appears at her rising. such is the view of rosy-fingered dawn entertained by the blacks of encounter bay. in south america, among the muyscas of bogota, the moon, huythaca, is the malevolent wife of the child of the sun; she was a woman before her husband banished her to the fields of space.( ) the moon is a man among the khasias of the himalaya, and he was guilty of the unpardonable offence of admiring his mother-in-law. as a general rule, the mother-in-law is not even to be spoken to by the savage son-in-law. the lady threw ashes in his face to discourage his passion, hence the moon's spots. the waning of the moon suggested the most beautiful and best known of savage myths, that in which the moon sends a beast to tell mortals that, though they die like her, like her they shall be born again.( ) because the spots in the moon were thought to resemble a hare they were accounted for in mexico by the hypothesis that a god smote the moon in the face with a rabbit;( ) in zululand and thibet by a fancied translation of a good or bad hare to the moon. ( ) brough smyth, aborigines of victoria, i. . ( ) tylor, primitive culture, i. . ( ) bleek, reynard in south africa, pp. - . ( ) sahagun, viii. . the eskimos have a peculiar myth to account for the moon's spots. sun and moon were human brother and sister. in the darkness the moon once attempted the virtue of the sun. she smeared his face over with ashes, that she might detect him when a light was brought. she did discover who her assailant had been, fled to the sky, and became the sun. the moon still pursues her, and his face is still blackened with the marks of ashes.( ) gervaise( ) says that in macassar the moon was held to be with child by the sun, and that when he pursued her and wished to beat her, she was delivered of the earth. they are now reconciled. about the alternate appearance of sun and moon a beautifully complete and adequate tale is told by the piute indians of california. no more adequate and scientific explanation could possibly be offered, granting the hypothesis that sun and moon are human persons and savage persons. the myth is printed as it was taken down by mr. de quille from the lips of tooroop eenah (desert father), a chief of the piutes, and published in a san francisco newspaper. ( ) crantz's history of greenland, i. . ( ) royaume de macacar, . "the sun is the father and ruler of the heavens. he is the big chief. the moon is his wife and the stars are their children. the sun eats his children whenever he can catch them. they flee before him, and are all the time afraid when he is passing through the heavens. when he (their father) appears in the morning, you see all the stars, his children, fly out of sight--go away back into the blue of the above--and they do not wake to be seen again until he, their father, is about going to his bed. "down deep under the ground--deep, deep, under all the ground--is a great hole. at night, when he has passed over the world, looked down on everything and finished his work, he, the sun, goes into his hole, and he crawls and creeps along it till he comes to his bed in the middle part of the earth. so then he, the sun, sleeps there in his bed all night. "this hole is so little, and he, the sun, is so big, that he cannot turn round in it; and so he must, when he has had all his sleep, pass on through, and in the morning we see him come out in the east. when he, the sun, has so come out, he begins to hunt up through the sky to catch and eat any that he can of the stars, his children, for if he does not so catch and eat he cannot live. he, the sun, is not all seen. the shape of him is like a snake or a lizard. it is not his head that we can see, but his belly, filled up with the stars that times and times he has swallowed. "the moon is the mother of the heavens and is the wife of the sun. she, the moon, goes into the same hole as her husband to sleep her naps. but always she has great fear of the sun, her husband, and when he comes through the hole to the nobee (tent) deep in the ground to sleep, she gets out and comes away if he be cross. "she, the moon, has great love for her children, the stars, and is happy to travel among them in the above; and they, her children, feel safe, and sing and dance as she passes along. but the mother, she cannot help that some of her children must be swallowed by the father every month. it is ordered that way by the pah-ah (great spirit), who lives above the place of all. "every month that father, the sun, does swallow some of the stars, his children, and then that mother, the moon, feels sorrow. she must mourn; so she must put the black on her face for to mourn the dead. you see the piute women put black on their faces when a child is gone. but the dark will wear away from the face of that mother, the moon, a little and a little every day, and after a time again we see all bright the face of her. but soon more of her children are gone, and again she must put on her face the pitch and the black." here all the phenomena are accounted for, and the explanation is as advanced as the egyptian doctrine of the hole under the earth where the sun goes when he passes from our view. and still the great spirit is over all: religion comes athwart myth. mr. tylor quotes( ) a nature myth about sun, moon and stars which remarkably corresponds to the speculation of the piutes. the mintira of the malayan peninsula say that both sun and moon are women. the stars are the moon's children; once the sun had as many. they each agreed (like the women of jerusalem in the famine), to eat their own children; but the sun swallowed her whole family, while the moon concealed hers. when the sun saw this she was exceedingly angry, and pursued the moon to kill her. occasionally she gets a bite out of the moon, and that is an eclipse. the hos of north-east india tell the same tale, but say that the sun cleft the moon in twain for her treachery, and that she continues to be cut in two and grow again every month. with these sun and moon legends sometimes coexists the religious belief in a creator of these and of all things. ( ) primitive culture, i. . in harmony with the general hypothesis that all objects in nature are personal, and human or bestial, in real shape, and in passion and habits, are the myths which account for eclipses. these have so frequently been published and commented on( ) that a long statement would be tedious and superfluous. to the savage mind, and even to the chinese and the peasants of some european countries, the need of an explanation is satisfied by the myth that an evil beast is devouring the sun or the moon. the people even try by firing off guns, shrieking, and clashing cymbals, to frighten the beast (wolf, pig, dragon, or what not) from his prey. what the hungry monster in the sky is doing when he is not biting the sun or moon we are not informed. probably he herds with the big bird whose wings, among the dacotahs of america and the zulus of africa, make thunder; or he may associate with the dragons, serpents, cows and other aerial cattle which supply the rain, and show themselves in the waterspout. chinese, greenland, hindoo, finnish, lithunian and moorish examples of the myth about the moon-devouring beasts are vouched for by grimm.( ) a mongolian legend has it that the gods wished to punish the maleficent arakho for his misdeeds, but arakho hid so cleverly that their limited omnipotence could not find him. the sun, when asked to turn spy, gave an evasive answer. the moon told the truth. arakho was punished, and ever since he chases sun and moon. when he nearly catches either of them, there is an eclipse, and the people try to drive him off by making a hideous uproar with musical and other instruments.( ) captain beeckman in was in borneo, when the natives declared that the devil "was eating the moon". ( ) tylor, primitive culture, vol. i.; lefebure, les yeux d'horus. ( ) teutonic mythology, english trans., ii. . ( ) moon-lore by rev. t. harley, p. . dr. brinton in his myths and myth-makers gives examples from peruvians, tupis, creeks, iroquois and algonkins. it would be easy, and is perhaps superfluous, to go on multiplying proofs of the belief that sun and moon are, or have been, persons. in the hervey isles these two luminaries are thought to have been made out of the body of a child cut in twain by his parents. the blood escaped from the half which is the moon, hence her pallor.( ) this tale is an exception to the general rule, but reminds us of the many myths which represent the things in the world as having been made out of a mutilated man, like the vedic purusha. it is hardly necessary, except by way of record, to point out that the greek myths of sun and moon, like the myths of savages, start from the conception of the solar and lunar bodies as persons with parts and passions, human loves and human sorrows. as in the mongolian myth of arakho, the sun "sees all and hears all," and, less honourable than the mongolian sun, he plays the spy for hephaestus on the loves of ares and aphrodite. he has mistresses and human children, such as circe and aeetes.( ) ( ) gill, myths and songs, p. . ( ) see chapter on greek divine myths. the sun is all-seeing and all-penetrating. in a greek song of to-day a mother sends a message to an absent daughter by the sun; it is but an unconscious repetition of the request of the dying ajax that the heavenly body will tell his fate to his old father and his sorrowing spouse.( ) ( ) sophocles, ajax, . selene, the moon, like helios, the sun, was a person, and amorous. beloved by zeus, she gave birth to pandia, and pan gained her affection by the simple rustic gift of a fleece.( ) the australian dawn, with her present of a red kangaroo skin, was not more lightly won than the chaste selene. her affection for endymion is well known, and her cold white glance shines through the crevices of his mountain grave, hewn in a rocky wall, like the tombs of phrygia.( ) she is the sister of the sun in hesiod, the daughter (by his sister) of hyperion in the homeric hymns to helios. ( ) virgil, georgics, iii. . ( ) preller, griech. myth., i. . in greece the aspects of sun and moon take the most ideal human forms, and show themselves in the most gracious myths. but, after all, these retain in their anthropomorphism the marks of the earliest fancy, the fancy of eskimos and australians. it seems to be commonly thought that the existence of solar myths is denied by anthropologists. this is a vulgar error. there is an enormous mass of solar myths, but they are not caused by "a disease of language," and--all myths are not solar! there is no occasion to dwell long on myths of the same character in which the stars are accounted for as transformed human adventurers. it has often been shown that this opinion is practically of world-wide distribution.( ) we find it in australia, persia, greece, among the bushmen, in north and south america, among the eskimos, in ancient egypt, in new zealand, in ancient india--briefly, wherever we look. the sanskrit forms of these myths have been said to arise from confusion as to the meaning of words. but is it credible that, in all languages, however different, the same kind of unconscious puns should have led to the same mistaken beliefs? as the savage, barbarous and greek star-myths (such as that of callisto, first changed into a bear and then into a constellation) are familiar to most readers, a few examples of sanskrit star-stories are offered here from the satapatha brahmana.( ) fires are not, according to the brahmana ritual, to be lighted under the stars called krittikas, the pleiades. the reason is that the stars were the wives of the bears (riksha), for the group known in brahmanic times as the rishis (sages) were originally called the rikshas (bears). but the wives of the bears were excluded from the society of their husbands, for the bears rise in the north and their wives in the east. therefore the worshipper should not set up his fires under the pleiades, lest he should thereby be separated from the company of his wife. the brahmanas( ) also tell us that prajapati had an unholy passion for his daughter, who was in the form of a doe. the gods made rudra fire an arrow at prajapati to punish him; he was wounded, and leaped into the sky, where he became one constellation and his daughter another, and the arrow a third group of stars. in general, according to the brahmanas, "the stars are the lights of virtuous men who go to the heavenly world".( ) ( ) custom and myth, "star-myths"; primitive culture, i. , ; j. g. muller, amerikanischen urreligionen, pp. , . ( ) sacred books of the east, i. - . ( ) aitareya bramana, iii. . ( ) satapatha brahmana, vi. , , . for greek examples, hesiod, ovid, and the catasterismoi, attributed to eratosthenes, are useful authorities. probably many of the tales in eratosthenes are late fictions consciously moulded on traditional data. passing from savage myths explanatory of the nature of celestial bodies to myths accounting for the formation and colour and habits of beasts, birds and fishes, we find ourselves, as an old jesuit missionary says, in the midst of a barbarous version of ovid's metamorphoses. it has been shown that the possibility of interchange of form between man and beast is part of the working belief of everyday existence among the lower peoples. they regard all things as on one level, or, to use an old political phrase, they "level up" everything to equality with the human status. thus mr. im thurn, a very good observer, found that to the indians of guiana "all objects, animate or inaminate, seem exactly of the same nature, except that they differ by the accident of bodily form". clearly to grasp this entirely natural conception of primitive man, the civilised student must make a great effort to forget for a time all that science has taught him of the differences between the objects which fill the world.( ) "to the ear of the savage, animals certainly seem to talk." "as far as the indians of guiana are concerned, i do not believe that they distinguish such beings as sun and moon, or such other natural phenomena as winds and storms, from men and other animals, from plants and other inanimate objects, or from any other objects whatsoever." bancroft says about north american myths, "beasts and birds and fishes fetch and carry, talk and act, in a way that leaves even aesop's heroes quite in the shade".( ) ( ) journ. anthrop. inst., xi. - . a very large and rich collection of testimonies as to metamorphosis will be found in j. g. muller's amerikanischen urreligionen, p. et seq.; while, for european superstitions, bodin on la demonomanie des sorciers, lyon, , may be consulted. ( ) vol. iii. p. . the savage tendency is to see in inanimate things animals, and in animals disguised men. m. reville quotes in his religions des peuples non-civilise's, i. , the story of some negroes, who, the first time they were shown a cornemuse, took the instrument for a beast, the two holes for its eyes. the highlander who looted a watch at prestonpans, and observing, "she's teed," sold it cheap when it ran down, was in the same psychological condition. a queer bit of savage science is displayed on a black stone tobacco-pipe from the pacific coast.( ) the savage artist has carved the pipe in the likeness of a steamer, as a steamer is conceived by him. "unable to account for the motive power, he imagines the paddle to be linked round the tongue of a coiled serpent, fastened to the tail of the vessel," and so he represents it on the black stone pipe. nay, a savage's belief that beasts are on his own level is so literal, that he actually makes blood-covenants with the lower animals, as he does with men, mingling his gore with theirs, or smearing both together on a stone;( ) while to bury dead animals with sacred rites is as usual among the bedouins and malagasies to-day as in ancient egypt or attica. in the same way the ainos of japan, who regard the bear as a kinsman, sacrifice a bear once a year. but, to propitiate the animal and his connections, they appoint him a "mother," an aino girl, who looks after his comforts, and behaves in a way as maternal as possible. the bear is now a kinsman, (greek text omitted), and cannot avenge himself within the kin. this, at least, seems to be the humour of it. in lagarde's reliquiae juris ecclesiastici antiquissimae a similar syrian covenant of kinship with insects is described. about a. d., when a syrian garden was infested by caterpillars, the maidens were assembled, and one caterpillar was caught. then one of the virgins was "made its mother," and the creature was buried with due lamentations. the "mother" was then brought to the spot where the pests were, her companions bewailed her, and the caterpillars perished like their chosen kinsman, but without extorting revenge.( ) revenge was out of their reach. they had been brought within the kin of their foes, and there were no erinnyes, "avengers of kindred blood," to help them. people in this condition of belief naturally tell hundreds of tales, in which men, stones, trees, beasts, shift shapes, and in which the modifications of animal forms are caused by accident, or by human agency, or by magic, or by metamorphosis. such tales survive in our modern folk-lore. to make our meaning clear, we may give the european nursery-myth of the origin of the donkey's long ears, and, among other illustrations, the australian myth of the origin of the black and white plumage of the pelican. mr. ralston has published the russian version of the myth of the donkey's ears. the spanish form, which is identical with the russian, is given by fernan caballero in la gaviota. ( ) magazine of art, january, . ( ) "malagasy folk-tales," folk-lore journal, october, . ( ) we are indebted to professor robertson smith for this example, and to miss bird's journal, pp. , , for the aino parallel. "listen! do you know why your ears are so big?" (the story is told to a stupid little boy with big ears). "when father adam found himself in paradise with the animals, he gave each its name; those of thy species, my child, he named 'donkeys'. one day, not long after, he called the beasts together, and asked each to tell him its name. they all answered right except the animals of thy sort, and they had forgotten their name! then father adam was very angry, and, taking that forgetful donkey by the ears, he pulled them out, screaming 'you are called donkey!' and the donkey's ears have been long ever since." this, to a child, is a credible explanation. so, perhaps, is another survival of this form of science--the scotch explanation of the black marks on the haddock; they were impressed by st. peter's finger and thumb when he took the piece of money for caesar's tax out of the fish's mouth. turning from folk-lore to savage beliefs, we learn that from one end of africa to another the honey-bird, schneter, is said to be an old woman whose son was lost, and who pursued him till she was turned into a bird, which still shrieks his name, "schneter, schneter".( ) in the same way the manners of most of the birds known to the greeks were accounted for by the myth that they had been men and women. zeus, for example, turned ceyx and halcyon into sea-fowls because they were too proud in their married happiness.( ) to these myths of the origin of various animals we shall return, but we must not forget the black and white australian pelican. why is the pelican parti-coloured?( ) for this reason: after the flood (the origin of which is variously explained by the murri), the pelican (who had been a black fellow) made a canoe, and went about like a kind of noah, trying to save the drowning. in the course of his benevolent mission he fell in love with a woman, but she and her friends played him a trick and escaped from him. the pelican at once prepared to go on the war-path. the first thing to do was to daub himself white, as is the custom of the blacks before a battle. they think the white pipe-clay strikes terror and inspires respect among the enemy. but when the pelican was only half pipe-clayed, another pelican came past, and, "not knowing what such a queer black and white thing was, struck the first pelican with his beak and killed him. before that pelicans were all black; now they are black and white. that is the reason."( ) ( ) barth, iii. . ( ) apollodorus, i. ( , ). ( ) sahagun, viii. , accounts for colours of eagle and tiger. a number of races explain the habits and marks of animals as the result of a curse or blessing of a god or hero. the hottentots, the huarochiri of peru, the new zealanders (shortland, traditions, p. ), are among the peoples which use this myth. ( ) brough symth, aborigines of australia, i. , . "that is the reason." therewith native philosopy is satisfied, and does not examine in mr. darwin's laborious manner the slow evolution of the colour of the pelican's plumage. the mythological stories about animals are rather difficult to treat, because they are so much mixed up with the topic of totemism. here we only examine myths which account by means of a legend for certain peculiarities in the habits, cries, or colours and shapes of animals. the ojibbeways told kohl they had a story for every creature, accounting for its ways and appearance. among the greeks, as among australians and bushmen, we find that nearly every notable bird or beast had its tradition. the nightingale and the swallow have a story of the most savage description, a story reported by apollodorus, though homer( ) refers to another, and, as usual, to a gentler and more refined form of the myth. here is the version of apollodorus. "pandion" (an early king of athens) "married zeuxippe, his mother's sister, by whom he had two daughters, procne and philomela, and two sons, erechtheus and butes. a war broke out with labdas about some debatable land, and erechtheus invited the alliance of tereus of thrace, the son of ares. having brought the war, with the aid of tereus, to a happy end, he gave him his daughter procne to wife. by procne, tereus had a son, itys, and thereafter fell in love with philomela, whom he seduced, pretending that procne was dead, whereas he had really concealed her somewhere in his lands. thereon he married philomela, and cut out her tongue. but she wove into a robe characters that told the whole story, and by means of these acquainted procne with her sufferings. thereon procne found her sister, and slew itys, her own son, whose body she cooked, and served up to tereus in a banquet. thereafter procne and her sister fled together, and tereus seized an axe and followed after them. they were overtaken at daulia in phocis, and prayed to the gods that they might be turned into birds. so procne became the nightingale, and philomela the swallow, while tereus was changed into a hoopoe."( ) pausanias has a different legend; procne and philomela died of excessive grief. ( ) odyssey, xix. . ( ) a red indian nightingale-myth is alluded to by j. g. muller, amerik. urrel., p. . some one was turned into a nightingale by the sun, and still wails for a lost lover. these ancient men and women metamorphosed into birds were honoured as ancestors by the athenians.( ) thus the unceasing musical wail of the nightingale and the shrill cry of the swallow were explained by a greek story. the birds were lamenting their old human sorrow, as the honey-bird in africa still repeats the name of her lost son. ( ) pausanias, i. v. pausanias thinks such things no longer occur. why does the red-robin live near the dwellings of men, a bold and friendly bird? the chippeway indians say he was once a young brave whose father set him a task too cruel for his strength, and made him starve too long when he reached man's estate. he turned into a robin, and said to his father, "i shall always be the friend of man, and keep near their dwellings. i could not gratify your pride as a warrior, but i will cheer you by my songs."( ) the converse of this legend is the greek myth of the hawk. why is the hawk so hated by birds? hierax was a benevolent person who succoured a race hated by poseidon. the god therefore changed him into a hawk, and made him as much detested by birds, and as fatal to them, as he had been beloved by and gentle to men.( ) the hervey islanders explain the peculiarities of several fishes by the share they took in the adventures of ina, who stamped, for example, on the sole, and so flattened him for ever.( ) in greece the dolphins were, according to the homeric hymn to dionysus, metamorphosed pirates who had insulted the god. but because the dolphin found the hidden sea-goddess whom poseidon loved, the dolphin, too, was raised by the grateful sea-god to the stars.( ) the vulture and the heron, according to boeo (said to have been a priestess in delphi and the author of a greek treatise on the traditions about birds), were once a man named aigupios (vulture) and his mother, boulis. they sinned inadvertently, like oedipus and jocasta; wherefore boulis, becoming aware of the guilt, was about to put out the eyes of her son and slay herself. then they were changed, boulis into the heron, "which tears out and feeds on the eyes of snakes, birds and fishes, and aigupios into the vulture which bears his name". this story, of which the more repulsive details are suppressed, is much less pleasing and more savage than the hervey islanders' myth of the origin of pigs. maaru was an old blind man who lived with his son kationgia. there came a year of famine, and kationgia had great difficulty in finding food for himself and his father. he gave the blind old man puddings of banana roots and fishes, while he lived himself on sea-slugs and shellfish, like the people of terra del fuego. but blind old maaru suspected his son of giving him the worst share and keeping what was best for himself. at last he discovered that kationgia was really being starved; he felt his body, and found that he was a mere living skeleton. the two wept together, and the father made a feast of some cocoa-nuts and bread-fruit, which he had reserved against the last extremity. when all was finished, he said he had eaten his last meal and was about to die. he ordered his son to cover him with leaves and grass, and return to the spot in four days. if worms were crawling about, he was to throw leaves and grass over them and come back four days later. kationgia did as he was instructed, and, on his second visit to the grave, found the whole mass of leaves in commotion. a brood of pigs, black, white and speckled, had sprung up from the soil; famine was a thing of the past, and kationgia became a great chief in the island.( ) ( ) schoolcraft, ii. , . ( ) boeo, quoted by antoninus liberalis. ( ) gill, south sea myths, pp. - . ( ) artemidorus in his love elegies, quoted by the pseud-eratosthenes. ( ) gill, myths and songs from south pacific, pp. - . "the owl was a baker's daughter" is the fragment of christian mythology preserved by ophelia. the baker's daughter behaved rudely to our lord, and was changed into the bird that looks not on the sun. the greeks had a similar legend of feminine impiety by which they mythically explained the origin of the owl, the bat and the eagle-owl. minyas of orchomenos had three daughters, leucippe, arsippe and alcathoe, most industrious women, who declined to join the wild mysteries of dionysus. the god took the shape of a maiden, and tried to win them to his worship. they refused, and he assumed the form of a bull, a lion, and a leopard as easily as the chiefs of the abipones become tigers, or as the chiefs among the african barotse and balonda metamorphose themselves into lions and alligators.( ) the daughters of minyas, in alarm, drew lots to determine which of them should sacrifice a victim to the god. leucippe drew the lot and offered up her own son. they then rushed to join the sacred rites of dionysus, when hermes transformed them into the bat, the owl and the eagle-owl, and these three hide from the light of the sun.( ) ( ) livingstone, missionary travels, pp. , . ( ) nicander, quoted by antoninus liberalis. a few examples of bushman and australian myths explanatory of the colours and habits of animals will probably suffice to establish the resemblance between savage and hellenic legends of this character. the bushman myth about the origin of the eland (a large antelope) is not printed in full by dr. bleek, but he observes that it "gives an account of the reasons for the colours of the gemsbok, hartebeest, eland, quagga and springbok".( ) speculative bushmen seem to have been puzzled to account for the wildness of the eland. it would be much more convenient if the eland were tame and could be easily captured. they explain its wildness by saying that the eland was "spoiled" before cagn, the creator, or rather maker of most things, had quite finished it. cagn's relations came and hunted the first eland too soon, after which all other elands grew wild. cagn then said, "go and hunt them and try to kill one; that is now your work, for it was you who spoilt them".( ) the bushmen have another myth explanatory of the white patches on the breasts of crows in their country. some men tarried long at their hunting, and their wives sent out crows in search of their husbands. round each crow's neck was hung a piece of fat to serve as food on the journey. hence the crows have white patches on breast and neck. ( ) brief account of bushmen folk-lore, p. . ( ) cape monthly magazine, july, . in australia the origins of nearly all animals appear to be explained in myths, of which a fair collection is printed in mr. brough symth's aborigines of victoria.( ) still better examples occur in mrs. langloh parker's australian legends. why is the crane so thin? once he was a man named kar-ween, the second man fashioned out of clay by pund-jel, a singular creative being, whose chequered career is traced elsewhere in our chapter on "savage myths of the origin of the world and of man". kar-ween and pund-jel had a quarrel about the wives of the former, whom pund-jel was inclined to admire. the crafty kar-ween gave a dance (jugargiull, corobboree), at which the creator pund-jel was disporting himself gaily (like the great panjandrum), when kar-ween pinned him with a spear. pund-jel threw another which took kar-ween in the knee-joint, so that he could not walk, but soon pined away and became a mere skeleton. "thereupon pund-jel made kar-ween a crane," and that is why the crane has such attenuated legs. the kortume, munkari and waingilhe, now birds, were once men. the two latter behaved unkindly to their friend kortume, who shot them out of his hut in a storm of rain, singing at the same time an incantation. the three then turned into birds, and when the kortume sings it is a token that rain may be expected. ( ) vol. i. p. et seq. let us now compare with these australian myths of the origin of certain species of birds the greek story of the origin of frogs, as told by menecrates and nicander.( ) the frogs were herdsmen metamorphosed by leto, the mother of apollo. but, by way of showing how closely akin are the fancies of greeks and australian black fellows, we shall tell the legend without the proper names, which gave it a fictitious dignity. ( ) antoninus liberalis, xxxv. the origin of frogs. "a woman bore two children, and sought for a water-spring wherein to bathe them. she found a well, but herdsmen drove her away from it that their cattle might drink. then some wolves met her and led her to a river, of which she drank, and in its waters she bathed her children. then she went back to the well where the herdsmen were now bathing, and she turned them all into frogs. she struck their backs and shoulders with a rough stone and drove them into the waters, and ever since that day frogs live in marshes and beside rivers." a volume might be filled with such examples of the kindred fancies of greeks and savages. enough has probably been said to illustrate our point, which is that greek myths of this character were inherited from the period of savagery, when ideas of metamorphosis and of the kinship of men and beasts were real practical beliefs. events conceived to be common in real life were introduced into myths, and these myths were savage science, and were intended to account for the origin of species. but when once this train of imagination has been fired, it burns on both in literature and in the legends of the peasantry. every one who writes a christmas tale for children now employs the machinery of metamorphosis, and in european folk-lore, as fontenelle remarked, stories persist which are precisely similar in kind to the minor myths of savages. reasoning in this wise, the mundas of bengal thus account for peculiarities of certain animals. sing bonga, the chief god, cast certain people out of heaven; they fell to earth, found iron ore, and began smelting it. the black smoke displeased sing bonga, who sent two king crows and an owl to bid people cease to pollute the atmosphere. but the iron smelters spoiled these birds' tails, and blackened the previously white crow, scorched its beak red, and flattened its head. sing bonga burned man, and turned woman into hills and waterspouts.( ) ( ) dalton, pp. , . examples of this class of myth in indo-aryan literature are not hard to find. why is dawn red? why are donkeys slow? why have mules no young ones? mules have no foals because they were severely burned when agni (fire) drove them in a chariot race. dawn is red, not because (as in australia) she wears a red kangaroo cloak, but because she competed in this race with red cows for her coursers. donkeys are slow because they never recovered from their exertions in the same race, when the asvins called on their asses and landed themselves the winners.( ) and cows are accommodated with horns for a reason no less probable and satisfactory.( ) ( ) aitareya brahmana, ii. , iv. . ( ) iv. . though in the legends of the less developed peoples men and women are more frequently metamorphosed into birds and beasts than into stones and plants, yet such changes of form are by no means unknown. to the north-east of western point there lies a range of hills, inhabited, according to the natives of victoria, by a creature whose body is made of stone, and weapons make no wound in so sturdy a constitution. the blacks refuse to visit the range haunted by the mythic stone beast. "some black fellows were once camped at the lakes near shaving point. they were cooking their fish when a native dog came up. they did not give him anything to eat. he became cross and said, 'you black fellows have lots of fish, but you give me none'. so he changed them all into a big rock. this is quite true, for the big rock is there to this day, and i have seen it with my own eyes."( ) another native, toolabar, says that the women of the fishing party cried out yacka torn, "very good". a dog replied yacka torn, and they were all changed into rocks. this very man, toolabar, once heard a dog begin to talk, whereupon he and his father fled. had they waited they would have become stones. "we should have been like it, wallung," that is, stones. ( ) native narrator, ap. brough smyth, i. . among the north american indians any stone which has a resemblance to the human or animal figure is explained as an example of metamorphosis. three stones among the aricaras were a girl, her lover and her dog, who fled from home because the course of true love did not run smooth, and who were petrified. certain stones near chinook point were sea-giants who swallowed a man. his brother, by aid of fire, dried up the bay and released the man, still alive, from the body of the giant. then the giants were turned into rocks.( ) the rising sun in popol vuh (if the evidence of popol vuh, the quichua sacred book, is to be accepted) changed into stone the lion, serpent and tiger gods. the standing rock on the upper missouri is adored by the indians, and decorated with coloured ribbons and skins of animals. this stone was a woman, who, like niobe, became literally petrified with grief when her husband took a second wife. another stone-woman in a cave on the banks of the kickapoo was wont to kill people who came near her, and is even now approached with great respect. the oneidas and dacotahs claim descent from stones to which they ascribe animation.( ) montesinos speaks of a sacred stone which was removed from a mountain by one of the incas. a parrot flew out of it and lodged in another stone, which the natives still worship.( ) the breton myth about one of the great stone circles (the stones were peasants who danced on a sunday) is a well-known example of this kind of myth surviving in folk-lore. there is a kind of stone actaeon( ) near little muniton creek, "resembling the bust of a man whose head is decorated with the horns of a stag".( ) a crowd of myths of metamorphosis into stone will be found among the iroquois legends in report of bureau of ethnology, - . if men may become stones, on the other hand, in samoa (as in the greek myth of deucalion), stones may become men.( ) gods, too, especially when these gods happen to be cuttlefish, might be petrified. they were chased in samoa by an upolu hero, who caught them in a great net and killed them. "they were changed into stones, and now stand up in a rocky part of the lagoon on the north side of upolu."( ) mauke, the first man, came out of a stone. in short,( ) men and stones and beasts and gods and thunder have interchangeable forms. in mangaia( ) the god ra was tossed up into the sky by maui and became pumice-stone. many samples of this petrified deity are found in mangaia. in melanesia matters are so mixed that it is not easy to decide whether a worshipful stone is the dwelling of a dead man's soul or is of spiritual merit in itself, or whether "the stone is the spirit's outward part or organ". the vui, or spirit, has much the same relations with snakes, owls and sharks.( ) qasavara, the mythical opponent of qat, the melanesian prometheus, "fell dead from heaven" (like ra in mangia), and was turned into a stone, on which sacrifices are made by those who desire strength in fighting. ( ) see authorities ap. dorman, primitive superstitions, pp. - . ( ) dorman, p. . ( ) many examples are collected by j. g. muller, amerikanischen urreligionen, pp. , , , especially when the stones have a likeness to human form, p. a. "im der that werden auch einige in steine, oder in thiere and pflanzen verwandelt." cf. p. . instances (from balboa) of men turned into stone by wizards, p. . ( ) preller thinks that actaeon, devoured by his hounds after being changed into a stag, is a symbol of the vernal year. palaephatus (de fab. narrat.) holds that the story is a moral fable. ( ) dorman, p. . ( ) turner's samoa, p. . ( ) samoa, p. . ( ) op. cit., p. . ( ) gill, myths and songs, p. . ( ) codrington, journ. anthrop. inst., february, . without delaying longer among savage myths of metamorphosis into stones, it may be briefly shown that the greeks retained this with all the other vagaries of early fancy. every one remembers the use which perseus made of the gorgon's head, and the stones on the coast of seriphus, which, like the stones near western point in victoria, had once been men, the enemies of the hero. "also he slew the gorgon," sings pindar, "and bare home her head, with serpent tresses decked, to the island folk a stony death." observe pindar's explanatory remark: "i ween there is no marvel impossible if gods have wrought thereto". in the same pious spirit a turk in an isle of the levant once told mr. newton a story of how a man hunted a stag, and the stag spoke to him. "the stag spoke?" said mr. newton. "yes, by allah's will," replied the turk. like pindar, he was repeating an incident quite natural to the minds of australians, or bushmen, or samoans, or red men, but, like the religious pindar, he felt that the affair was rather marvellous, and accounted for it by the exercise of omnipotent power.( ) the greek example of niobe and her children may best be quoted in mr. bridges' translation from the iliad:-- and somewhere now, among lone mountain rocks on sipylus, where couch the nymphs at night who dance all day by achelous' stream, the once proud mother lies, herself a rook, and in cold breast broods o'er the goddess' wrong. --prometheus the fire-bringer.( ) in the iliad it is added that cronion made the people into stones. the attitude of the later greek mind towards these myths may be observed in a fragment of philemon, the comic poet. "never, by the gods, have i believed, nor will believe, that niobe the stone was once a woman. nay, by reason of her calamities she became speechless, and so, from her silence, was called a stone."( ) ( ) pindar, pyth. x., myers's translation. ( ) xxiv. . ( ) the scholiast on iliad, xxiv. , . there is another famous petrification in the iliad. when the prodigy of the snake and the sparrows had appeared to the assembled achaeans at aulis, zeus displayed a great marvel, and changed into a stone the serpent which swallowed the young of the sparrow. changes into stone, though less common than changes into fishes, birds and beasts, were thus obviously not too strange for the credulity of greek mythology, which could also believe that a stone became the mother of agdestis by zeus. as to interchange of shape between men and women and plants, our information, so far as the lower races are concerned, is less copious. it has already been shown that the totems of many stocks in all parts of the world are plants, and this belief in connection with a plant by itself demonstrates that the confused belief in all things being on one level has thus introduced vegetables into the dominion of myth. as far as possessing souls is concerned, mr. tylor has proved that plants are as well equipped as men or beasts or minerals.( ) in india the doctrine of transmigration widely and clearly recognises the idea of trees or smaller plants being animated by human souls. in the well-known ancient egyptian story of "the two brothers,"( ) the life of the younger is practically merged in that of the acacia tree where he has hidden his heart; and when he becomes a bull and is sacrificed, his spiritual part passes into a pair of persea trees. the yarucaris of bolivia say that a girl once bewailed in the forest her loverless estate. she happened to notice a beautiful tree, which she adorned with ornaments as well as she might. the tree assumed the shape of a handsome young man-- she did not find him so remiss, but, lightly issuing through, he did repay her kiss for kiss, with usury thereto.( ) j. g. muller, who quotes this tale from andree, says it has "many analogies with the tales of metamorphosis of human beings into trees among the ancients, as reported by ovid". the worship of plants and trees is a well-known feature in religion, and probably implies (at least in many cases) a recognition of personality. in samoa, metamorphosis into vegetables is not uncommon. for example, the king of fiji was a cannibal, and (very naturally) "the people were melting away under him". the brothers toa and pale, wishing to escape the royal oven, adopted various changes of shape. they knew that straight timber was being sought for to make a canoe for the king, so pale, when he assumed a vegetable form, became a crooked stick overgrown with creepers, but toa "preferred standing erect as a handsome straight tree". poor toa was therefore cut down by the king's shipwrights, though, thanks to his brother's magic wiles, they did not make a canoe out of him after all.( ) in samoa the trees are so far human that they not only go to war with each other, but actually embark in canoes to seek out distant enemies.( ) the ottawa indians account for the origin of maize by a myth in which a wizard fought with and conquered a little man who had a little crown of feathers. from his ashes arose the maize with its crown of leaves and heavy ears of corn.( ) ( ) primitive culture, i. ; examples of society islanders, dyaks, karens, buddhists. ( ) maspero, contes egyptiens, p. . ( ) j. g. muller, amerik. urrel., p. . ( ) turner's samoa, p. . ( ) ibid.. p. . ( ) amerik. urrel., p. . in mangaia the myth of the origin of the cocoa-nut tree is a series of transformation scenes, in which the persons shift shapes with the alacrity of medicine-men. ina used to bathe in a pool where an eel became quite familiar with her. at last the fish took courage and made his declaration. he was tuna, the chief of all eels. "be mine," he cried, and ina was his. for some mystical reason he was obliged to leave her, but (like the white cat in the fairy tale) he requested her to cut off his eel's head and bury it. regretfully but firmly did ina comply with his request, and from the buried eel's head sprang two cocoa trees, one from each half of the brain of tuna. as a proof of this be it remarked, that when the nut is husked we always find on it "the two eyes and mouth of the lover of ina".( ) all over the world, from ancient egypt to the wigwams of the algonkins, plants and other matters are said to have sprung from a dismembered god or hero, while men are said to have sprung from plants.( ) we may therefore perhaps look on it as a proved point that the general savage habit of "levelling up" prevails even in their view of the vegetable world, and has left traces (as we have seen) in their myths. ( ) gill, myths and songs, p. . ( ) myths of the beginning of things. turning now to the mythology of greece, we see that the same rule holds good. metamorphosis into plants and flowers is extremely common; the instances of daphne, myrrha, hyacinth, narcissus and the sisters of phaethon at once occur to the memory. most of those myths in which everything in nature becomes personal and human, while all persons may become anything in nature, we explain, then, as survivals or imitations of tales conceived when men were in the savage intellectual condition. in that stage, as we demonstrated, no line is drawn between things animate and inanimate, dumb or "articulate speaking," organic or inorganic, personal or impersonal. such a mental stage, again, is reflected in the nature-myths, many of which are merely "aetiological,"--assign a cause, that is, for phenomena, and satisfy an indolent and credulous curiosity. we may be asked again, "but how did this intellectual condition come to exist?" to answer that is no part of our business; for us it is enough to trace myth, or a certain element in myth, to a demonstrable and actual stage of thought. but this stage, which is constantly found to survive in the minds of children, is thus explained or described by hume in his essay on natural religion: "there is an universal tendency in mankind to conceive all beings like themselves, and to transfer to every object those qualities... of which they are intimately conscious".( ) now they believe themselves to be conscious of magical and supernatural powers, which they do not, of course, possess. these powers of effecting metamorphosis, of "shape-shifting," of flying, of becoming invisible at will, of conversing with the dead, of miraculously healing the sick, savages pass on to their gods (as will be shown in a later chapter), and the gods of myth survive and retain the miraculous gifts after their worshippers (become more reasonable) have quite forgotten that they themselves once claimed similar endowments. so far, then, it has been shown that savage fancy, wherever studied, is wild; that savage curiosity is keen; that savage credulity is practically boundless. these considerations explain the existence of savage myths of sun, stars, beasts, plants and stones; similar myths fill greek legend and the sanskrit brahmanes. we conclude that, in greek and sanskrit, the myths are relics (whether borrowed or inherited) of the savage mental status. ( ) see appendix b. chapter vi. non-aryan myths of the origin of the world and of man. confusions of myth--various origins of man and of things--myths of australia, andaman islands, bushmen, ovaherero, namaquas, zulus, hurons, iroquois, diggers, navajoes, winnebagoes, chaldaeans, thlinkeets, pacific islanders, maoris, aztecs, peruvians--similarity of ideas pervading all those peoples in various conditions of society and culture. the difficulties of classification which beset the study of mythology have already been described. nowhere are they more perplexing than when we try to classify what may be styled cosmogonic myths. the very word cosmogonic implies the pre-existence of the idea of a cosmos, an orderly universe, and this was exactly the last idea that could enter the mind of the myth-makers. there is no such thing as orderliness in their mythical conceptions, and no such thing as an universe. the natural question, "who made the world, or how did the things in the world come to be?" is the question which is answered by cosmogonic myths. but it is answered piecemeal. to a christian child the reply is given, "god made all things". we have known this reply discussed by some little girls of six (a scotch minister's daughters, and naturally metaphysical), one of whom solved all difficulties by the impromptu myth, "god first made a little place to stand on, and then he made the rest". but savages and the myth-makers, whose stories survive into the civilised religions, could adhere firmly to no such account as this. here occurs in the first edition of this book the following passage: "they (savages) have not, and had not, the conception of god as we understand what we mean by the word. they have, and had at most, only the small-change of the idea god,"--here the belief in a moral being who watches conduct; here again the hypothesis of a pre-human race of magnified, non-natural medicine-men, or of extra-natural beings with human and magical attributes, but often wearing the fur, and fins, and feathers of the lower animals. mingled with these faiths (whether earlier, later, or coeval in origin with these) are the dread and love of ancestral ghosts, often transmuting themselves into worship of an imaginary and ideal first parent of the tribe, who once more is often a beast or a bird. here is nothing like the notion of an omnipotent, invisible, spiritual being, the creator of our religion; here is only la monnaie of the conception." it ought to have occurred to the author that he was here traversing the main theory of his own book, which is that religion is one thing, myth quite another thing. that many low races of savages entertain, in hours of religious thought, an elevated conception of a moral and undying maker of things, and master of life, a father in heaven, has already been stated, and knowledge of the facts has been considerably increased since this work first appeared ( ). but the mythical conceptions described in the last paragraph coexist with the religious conception in the faiths of very low savages, such as the australians and andamanese, just as the same contradictory coexistence is notorious in ancient greece, india, egypt and anahuac. in a sense, certain low savages have the "conception of god, as we understand what we mean by the word". but that sense, when savages come to spinning fables about origins, is apt to be overlaid and perplexed by the frivolity of their mythical fancy. with such shifting, grotesque and inadequate fables, the cosmogonic myths of the world are necessarily bewildered and perplexed. we have already seen in the chapter on "nature myths" that many things, sun, moon, the stars, "that have another birth," and various animals and plants, are accounted for on the hypothesis that they are later than the appearance of man--that they originally were men. to the european mind it seems natural to rank myths of the gods before myths of the making or the evolution of the world, because our religion, like that of the more philosophic greeks, makes the deity the fount of all existences, causa causans, "what unmoved moves," the beginning and the end. but the myth-makers, deserting any such ideas they may possess, find it necessary, like the child of whom we spoke, to postulate a place for the divine energy to work from, and that place is the earth or the heavens. then, again, heaven and earth are themselves often regarded in the usual mythical way, as animated, as persons with parts and passions, and finally, among advancing races, as gods. into this medley of incongruous and inconsistent conceptions we must introduce what order we may, always remembering that the order is not native to the subject, but is brought in for the purpose of study. the origin of the world and of man is naturally a problem which has excited the curiosity of the least developed minds. every savage race has its own myths on this subject, most of them bearing the marks of the childish and crude imagination, whose character we have investigated, and all varying in amount of what may be called philosophical thought. all the cosmogonic myths, as distinct from religious belief in a creator, waver between the theory of construction, or rather of reconstruction, and the theory of evolution, very rudely conceived. the earth, as a rule, is mythically averred to have grown out of some original matter, perhaps an animal, perhaps an egg which floated on the waters, perhaps a handful of mud from below the waters. but this conception does not exclude the idea that many of the things in the world, minerals, plants and what not, are fragments of the frame of a semi-supernatural and gigantic being, human or bestial, belonging to a race which preceded the advent of man.( ) such were the titans, demi-gods, nurrumbunguttias in australia. various members of this race are found active in myths of the creation, or rather the construction, of man and of the world. among the lowest races it is to be noted that mythical animals of supernatural power often take the place of beings like the finnish wainamoinen, the greek prometheus, the zulu unkulunkulu, the red indian manabozho, himself usually a great hare. ( ) macrobius, saturnal., i. xx. the ages before the development or creation of man are filled up, in the myths, with the loves and wars of supernatural people. the appearance of man is explained in three or four contradictory ways, each of which is represented in the various myths of most mythologies. often man is fashioned out of clay, or stone, or other materials, by a maker of all things, sometimes half-human or bestial, but also half-divine. sometimes the first man rises out of the earth, and is himself confused with the creator, a theory perhaps illustrated by the zulu myth of unkulunkulu, "the old, old one". sometimes man arrives ready made, with most of the animals, from his former home in a hole in the ground, and he furnishes the world for himself with stars, sun, moon and everything else he needs. again, there are many myths which declare that man was evolved out of one or other of the lower animals. this myth is usually employed by tribesmen to explain the origin of their own peculiar stock of kindred. once more, man is taken to be the fruit of some tree or plant, or not to have emerged ready-made, but to have grown out of the ground like a plant or a tree. in some countries, as among the bechuanas, the boeotians, and the peruvians, the spot where men first came out on earth is known to be some neighbouring marsh or cave. lastly, man is occasionally represented as having been framed out of a piece of the body of the creator, or made by some demiurgic potter out of clay. all these legends are told by savages, with no sense of their inconsistency. there is no single orthodoxy on the matter, and we shall see that all these theories coexist pell-mell among the mythological traditions of civilised races. in almost every mythology, too, the whole theory of the origin of man is crossed by the tradition of a deluge, or some other great destruction, followed by revival or reconstruction of the species, a tale by no means necessarily of biblical origin. in examining savage myths of the origin of man and of the world, we shall begin by considering those current among the most backward peoples, where no hereditary or endowed priesthood has elaborated and improved the popular beliefs. the natives of australia furnish us with myths of a purely popular type, the property, not of professional priests and poets, but of all the old men and full-grown warriors of the country. here, as everywhere else, the student must be on his guard against accepting myths which are disguised forms of missionary teaching.( ) ( ) taplin, the narrinyeri. "he must also beware of supposing that the australians believe in a creator in our sense, because the narrinyeri, for example, say that nurundere 'made everything'. nurundere is but an idealised wizard and hunter, with a rival of his species." this occurs in the first edition, but "making all things" is one idea, wizardry is another. in southern australia we learn that the boonoorong, an australian coast tribe, ascribe the creation of things to a being named bun-jel or pund-jel. he figures as the chief of an earlier supernatural class of existence, with human relationships; thus he "has a wife, whose face he has never seen," brothers, a son, and so on. now this name bun-jel means "eagle-hawk," and the eagle-hawk is a totem among certain stocks. thus, when we hear that eagle-hawk is the maker of men and things we are reminded of the bushman creator, cagn, who now receives prayers of considerable beauty and pathos, but who is (in some theories) identified with kaggen, the mantis insect, a creative grasshopper, and the chief figure in bushman mythology.( ) bun-jel or pund-jel also figures in australian belief, neither as the creator nor as the eagle-hawk, but "as an old man who lives at the sources of the yarra river, where he possesses great multitudes of cattle".( ) the term bun-jel is also used, much like our "mr.," to denote the older men of the kurnai and briakolung, some of whom have magical powers. one of them, krawra, or "west wind," can cause the wind to blow so violently as to prevent the natives from climbing trees; this man has semi-divine attributes. from these facts it appears that this australian creator, in myth, partakes of the character of the totem or worshipful beast, and of that of the wizard or medicine-man. he carried a large knife, and, when he made the earth, he went up and down slicing it into creeks and valleys. the aborigines of the northern parts of victoria seem to believe in pund-jel in what may perhaps be his most primitive mythical shape, that of an eagle.( ) this eagle and a crow created everything, and separated the murray blacks into their two main divisions, which derive their names from the crow and the eagle. the melbourne blacks seem to make pund-jel more anthropomorphic. men are his (greek text omitted) figures kneaded of clay, as aristophanes says in the birds. pund-jel made two clay images of men, and danced round them. "he made their hair--one had straight, one curly hair--of bark. he danced round them. he lay on them, and breathed his breath into their mouths, noses and navels, and danced round them. then they arose full-grown young men." some blacks seeing a brickmaker at work on a bridge over the yarra exclaimed, "like 'em that pund-jel make 'em koolin". but other blacks prefer to believe that, as pindar puts the phrygian legend, the sun saw men growing like trees. ( ) bleek, brief account of bushman mythology, p. ; cape monthly magazine, july, , pp. - ; kamilaroi and kurnai, pp. , . ( ) kamilaroi and kurnai, p. . ( ) brough smyth, natives of victoria, vol. i. p. . the first man was formed out of the gum of a wattle-tree, and came out of the knot of a wattle-tree. he then entered into a young woman (though he was the first man) and was born.( ) the encounter bay people have another myth, which might have been attributed by dean swift to the yahoos, so foul an origin does it allot to mankind. ( ) meyer, aborigines of encounter bay. see, later, "gods of the lowest races". australian myths of creation are by no means exclusive of a hypothesis of evolution. thus the dieyrie, whose notions mr. gason has recorded, hold a very mixed view. they aver that "the good spirit" moora-moora made a number of small black lizards, liked them, and promised them dominion. he divided their feet into toes and fingers, gave them noses and lips, and set them upright. down they fell, and moora-moora cut off their tails. then they walked erect and were men.( ) the conclusion of the adventures of one australian creator is melancholy. he has ceased to dwell among mortals whom he watches and inspires. the jay possessed many bags full of wind; he opened them, and pund-jel was carried up by the blast into the heavens. but this event did not occur before pund-jel had taught men and women the essential arts of life. he had shown the former how to spear kangaroos, he still exists and inspires poets. from the cosmogonic myths of australia (the character of some of which is in contradiction with the higher religious belief of the people to be later described) we may turn, without reaching a race of much higher civilisation, to the dwellers in the andaman islands and their opinions about the origin of things. ( ) gason's dieyries, ap. native tribes of south australia, p. . the andaman islands, in the bay of bengal, are remote from any shores, and are protected from foreign influences by dangerous coral reefs, and by the reputed ferocity and cannibalism of the natives. these are negritos, and are commonly spoken of as most abject savages. they are not, however, without distinctions of rank; they are clean, modest, moral after marriage, and most strict in the observance of prohibited degrees. unlike the australians, they use bows and arrows, but are said to be incapable of striking a light, and, at all events, find the process so difficult that, like the australians and the farmer in the odyssey,( ) they are compelled "to hoard the seeds of fire". their mythology contains explanations of the origin of men and animals, and of their own customs and language. ( ) odyssey, v. . the andamanese, long spoken of as "godless," owe much to mr. man, an english official, who has made a most careful study of their beliefs.( ) so extraordinary is the contradiction between the relative purity and morality of the religion and the savagery of the myths of the andamanese, that, in the first edition of this work, i insisted that the "spiritual god" of the faith must have been "borrowed from the same quarter as the stone house" in which he is mythically said to live. but later and wider study, and fresh information from various quarters, have convinced me that the relative purity of andamanese religion, with its ethical sanction of conduct, may well be, and probably is, a natural unborrowed development. it is easy for myth to borrow the notion of a stone house from our recent settlement at port blair. but it would not be easy for religion to borrow many new ideas from an alien creed, in a very few years, while the noted ferocity of the islanders towards strangers, and the inaccessibility of their abode, makes earlier borrowing, on a large scale at least, highly improbable. the andamanese god, puluga, is "like fire" but invisible, unborn and immortal, knowing and punishing or rewarding, men's deeds, even "the thoughts of their hearts". but when once mythical fancy plays round him, and stories are told about him, he is credited with a wife who is an eel or a shrimp, just as zeus made love as an ant or a cuckoo. puluga was the maker of men; no particular myth as to how he made them is given. they tried to kill him, after the deluge (of which a grotesque myth is told), but he replied that he was "as hard as wood". his legend is in the usual mythical contradiction with the higher elements in his religion. ( ) journ. anthrop. soc., vol. xii. p. et seq. leaving the andaman islanders, but still studying races in the lowest degree of civilisation, we come to the bushmen of south africa. this very curious and interesting people, far inferior in material equipment to the hottentots, is sometimes regarded as a branch of that race.( ) the hottentots call themselves "khoi-khoi," the bushmen they style "sa". the poor sa lead the life of pariahs, and are hated and chased by all other natives of south africa. they are hunters and diggers for roots, while the hottentots, perhaps their kinsmen, are cattle-breeders.( ) being so ill-nourished, the bushmen are very small, but sturdy. they dwell in, or rather wander through, countries which have been touched by some ancient civilisation, as is proved by the mysterious mines and roads of mashonaland. it is singular that the bushmen possess a tradition according to which they could once "make stone things that flew over rivers". they have remarkable artistic powers, and their drawings of men and animals on the walls of caves are often not inferior to the designs on early greek vases.( ) ( ) see "divine myths of the lower races". ( ) hahu, tsuni goam, p. . see other accounts in waitz, anthropologie, ii. . ( ) custom and myth, where illustrations of bushman art are given, pp. - . thus we must regard the bushmen as possibly degenerated from a higher status, though there is nothing (except perhaps the tradition about bridge-making) to show that it was more exalted than that of their more prosperous neighbours, the hottentots. the myths of the bushmen, however, are almost on the lowest known level. a very good and authentic example of bushman cosmogonic myth was given to mr. orpen, chief magistrate of st. john's territory, by qing, king nqusha's huntsman. qing "had never seen a white man, but in fighting," till he became acquainted with mr. orpen.( ) the chief force in bushmen myth is by dr. bleek identified with the mantis, a sort of large grasshopper. though he seems at least as "chimerical a beast" as the aryan creative boar, the "mighty big hare" of the algonkins, the large spider who made the world in the opinion of the gold coast people, or the eagle of the australians, yet the insect (if insect he be), like the others, has achieved moral qualities and is addressed in prayer. in his religious aspect he is nothing less than a grasshopper. he is called cagn. "cagn made all things and we pray to him," said qing. "coti is the wife of cagn." qing did not know where they came from; "perhaps with the men who brought the sun". the fact is, qing "did not dance that dance," that is, was not one of the bushmen initiated into the more esoteric mysteries of cagn. till we, too, are initiated, we can know very little of cagn in his religious aspect. among the bushmen, as among the greeks, there is "no religious mystery without dancing". qing was not very consistent. he said cagn gave orders and caused all things to appear and to be made, sun, moon, stars, wind, mountains, animals, and this, of course, is a lofty theory of creation. elsewhere myth avers that cagn did not so much create as manufacture the objects in nature. in his early day "the snakes were also men". cagn struck snakes with his staff and turned them into men, as zeus, in the aeginetan myth, did with ants. he also turned offending men into baboons. in bushman myth, little as we really know of it, we see the usual opposition of fable and faith, a kind creator in religion is apparently a magician in myth. ( ) cape monthly magazine, july, . neighbours of the bushmen, but more fortunate in their wealth of sheep and cattle, are the ovaherero. the myths of the ovaherero, a tribe dwelling in a part of hereraland "which had not yet been under the influence of civilisation and christianity," have been studied by the rev. h. reiderbecke, missionary at otyozondyupa. the ovaherero, he says, have a kind of tree ygdrasil, a tree out of which men are born, and this plays a great part in their myth of creation. the tree, which still exists, though at a great age, is called the omumborombonga tree. out of it came, in the beginning, the first man and woman. oxen stepped forth from it too, but baboons, as caliban says of the stars, "came otherwise," and sheep and goats sprang from a flat rock. black people are so coloured, according to the ovaherero, because when the first parents emerged from the tree and slew an ox, the ancestress of the blacks appropriated the black liver of the victim. the ovakuru meyuru or "old ones in heaven," once let the skies down with a run, but drew them up again (as the gods of the satapatha brahmana drew the sun) when most of mankind had been drowned.( ) the remnant pacified the old ones (as odysseus did the spirits of the dead) by the sacrifice of a black ewe, a practice still used to appease ghosts by the ovaherero. the neighbouring omnambo ascribe the creation of man to kalunga, who came out of the earth, and made the first three sheep.( ) ( ) an example of a deluge myth in africa, where m. lenormant found none. ( ) south african folk-lore journal, ii. pt. v. p. . among the namaquas, an african people on the same level of nomadic culture as the ovaherero, a divine or heroic early being called heitsi eibib had a good deal to do with the origin of things. if he did not exactly make the animals, he impressed on them their characters, and their habits (like those of the serpent in genesis) are said to have been conferred by a curse, the curse of heitsi eibib. a precisely similar notion was found by avila among the indians of huarochiri, whose divine culture-hero imposed, by a curse or a blessing, their character and habits on the beasts.( ) the lion used to live in a nest up a tree till heitsi eibib cursed him and bade him walk on the ground. he also cursed the hare, "and the hare ran away, and is still running".( ) the name of the first man is given as eichaknanabiseb (with a multitude of "clicks"), and he is said to have met all the animals on a flat rock, and played a game with them for copper beads. the rainbow was made by gaunab, who is generally a malevolent being, of whom more hereafter. ( ) fables of yncas (hakluyt society), p. . ( ) tsuni goam, pp. , . leaving these african races, which, whatever their relative degrees of culture, are physically somewhat contemptible, we reach their northern neighbours, the zulus. they are among the finest, and certainly among the least religious, of the undeveloped peoples. their faith is mainly in magic and ghosts, but there are traces of a fading and loftier belief. the social and political condition of the zulu is well understood. they are a pastoral, but not a nomadic people, possessing large kraals or towns. they practise agriculture, and they had, till quite recently, a centralised government and a large army, somewhat on the german system. they appear to have no regular class of priests, and supernatural power is owned by the chiefs and the king, and by diviners and sorcerers, who conduct the sacrifices. their myths are the more interesting because, whether from their natural scepticism, which confuted bishop colenso in his orthodox days, or from acquaintance with european ideas, they have begun to doubt the truth of their own traditions.( ) the zulu theory of the origin of man and of the world commences with the feats of unkulunkulu, "the old, old one," who, in some legends, was the first man, "and broke off in the beginning". like manabozho among the indians of north america, and like wainamoinen among the finns, unkulunkulu imparted to men a knowledge of the arts, of marriage, and so forth. his exploits in this direction, however, must be considered in another part of this work. men in general "came out of a bed of reeds".( ) but there is much confusion about this bed of reeds, named "uthlanga". the younger people ask where the bed of reeds was; the old men do not know, and neither did their fathers know. but they stick to it that "that bed of reeds still exists". educated zulus appear somewhat inclined to take the expression in an allegorical sense, and to understand the reeds either as a kind of protoplasm or as a creator who was mortal. "he exists no longer. as my grandfather no longer exists, he too no longer exists; he died." chiefs who wish to claim high descent trace their pedigree to uthlanga, as the homeric kings traced theirs to zeus. the myths given by dr. callaway are very contradictory. ( ) these legends have been carefully collected and published by bishop callaway (trubner & co., ). ( ) callaway, p. . in addition to the legend that men came out of a bed of reeds, other and perhaps even more puerile stories are current. "some men say that they were belched up by a cow;" others "that unkulunkulu split them out of a stone,"( ) which recalls the legend of pyrrha and deucalion. the myth about the cow is still applied to great chiefs. "he was not born; he was belched up by a cow." the myth of the stone origin corresponds to the homeric saying about men "born from the stone or the oak of the old tale".( ) ( ) without anticipating a later chapter, the resemblances of these to greek myths, as arrayed by m. bouche leclercq (de origine generis humani), is very striking. ( ) odyssey, xix. . in addition to the theory of the natal bed of reeds, the zulus, like the navajoes of new mexico, and the bushmen, believe in the subterranean origin of man. there was a succession of emigrations from below of different tribes of men, each having its own unkulunkulu. all accounts agree that unkulunkulu is not worshipped, and he does not seem to be identified with "the lord who plays in heaven"--a kind of fading zeus--when there is thunder. unkulunkulu is not worshipped, though ancestral spirits are worshipped, because he lived so long ago that no one can now trace his pedigree to the being who is at once the first man and the creator. his "honour-giving name is lost in the lapse of years, and the family rites have become obsolete."( ) ( ) see zulu religion in the making of religion, pp. - , where it is argued that ghost worship has superseded a higher faith, of which traces are discernible. the native races of the north american continent (concerning whose civilisation more will be said in the account of their divine myths) occupy every stage of culture, from the truly bestial condition in which some of the digger indians at present exist, living on insects and unacquainted even with the use of the bow, to the civilisation which the spaniards destroyed among the aztecs. the original facts about religion in america are much disputed, and will be more appropriately treated later. it is now very usual for anthropologists to say, like mr. dorman, "no approach to monotheismn had been made before the discovery of america by europeans, and the great spirit mentioned in these (their) books is an introduction by christianity".( ) "this view will not bear examination," says mr. tylor, and we shall later demonstrate the accuracy of his remark.( ) but at present we are concerned, not with what indian religion had to say about her gods, but with what indian myth had to tell about the beginnings of things. ( ) origin of primitive superstitions, p. . ( ) primitive culture, , ii. p. . the hurons, for example (to choose a people in a state of middle barbarism), start in myth from the usual conception of a powerful non-natural race of men dwelling in the heavens, whence they descended, and colonised, not to say constructed, the earth. in the relation de la nouvelle france, written by pere paul le jeune, of the company of jesus, in , there is a very full account of huron opinion, which, with some changes of names, exists among the other branches of the algonkin family of indians. they recognise as the founder of their kindred a woman named ataentsic, who, like hephaestus in the iliad, was banished from the sky. in the upper world there are woods and plains, as on earth. ataentsic fell down a hole when she was hunting a bear, or she cut down a heaven-tree, and fell with the fall of this huron ygdrasil, or she was seduced by an adventurer from the under world, and was tossed out of heaven for her fault. however it chanced, she dropped on the back of the turtle in the midst of the waters. he consulted the other aquatic animals, and one of them, generally said to have been the musk-rat, fished( ) up some soil and fashioned the earth.( ) here ataentsic gave birth to twins, ioskeha and tawiscara. these represent the usual dualism of myth; they answer to osiris and set, to ormuzd and ahriman, and were bitter enemies. according to one form of the myth, the woman of the sky had twins, and what occurred may be quoted from dr. brinton. "even before birth one of them betrayed his restless and evil nature by refusing to be born in the usual manner, but insisting on breaking through his parent's side or arm-pit. he did so, but it cost his mother her life. her body was buried, and from it sprang the various vegetable productions," pumpkins, maize, beans, and so forth.( ) ( ) relations, . in this myth one messon, the great hare, is the beginner of our race. he married a daughter of the musk-rat. ( ) here we first meet in this investigation a very widely distributed myth. the myths already examined have taken the origin of earth for granted. the hurons account for its origin; a speck of earth was fished out of the waters and grew. in m. h. de charencey's tract une legende cosmogonique (havre, ) this legend is traced. m. de charencey distinguishes ( ) a continental version; ( ) an insular version; ( ) a mixed and hindoo version. among continental variants he gives a vogul version (revue de philologie et d'ethnographie, paris, , i. ). numi tarom (a god who cooks fish in heaven) hangs a male and female above the abyss of waters in a silver cradle. he gives them, later, just earth enough to build a house on. their son, in the guise of a squirrel, climbs to numi tarom, and receives from him a duck-skin and a goose-skin. clad in these, like yehl in his raven-skin or odin in his hawk-skin, he enjoys the powers of the animals, dives and brings up three handfuls of mud, which grow into our earth. elempi makes men out of clay and snow. the american version m. de charencey gives from nicholas perrot (mem. sur les moers, etc., paris, , i. ). perrot was a traveller of the seventeenth century. the great hare takes a hand in the making of earth out of fished-up soil. after giving other north american variants, and comparing the animals that, after three attempts, fish up earth to the dove and raven of noah, m. de charencey reaches the bulgarians. god made satan, in the skin of a diver, fish up earth out of lake tiberias. three doves fish up earth, in the beginning, in the galician popular legend (chodzko, contes des paysans slaves, p. ). in the insular version, as in new zealand, the island is usually fished up with a hook by a heroic angler (japan, tonga, tahiti, new zealand). the hindoo version, in which the boar plays the part of musk-rat, or duck, or diver, will be given in "indian cosmogonic myths". ( ) brinton, american hero-myths, p. . nicholas perrot and various jesuit relations are the original authorities. see "divine myths of america". mr. leland, in his algonkin tales, prints the same story, with the names altered to glooskap and malsumis, from oral tradition. compare schoolcraft, v. , and i. , and the versions of pp. charlevoix and lafitau. in charlevoix the good and bad brothers are manabozho and chokanipok or chakekanapok, and out of the bones and entrails of the latter many plants and animals were fashioned, just as, according to a greek myth preserved by clemens alexandrinus, parsley and pomegranates arose from the blood and scattered members of dionysus zagreus. the tale of tawiscara's violent birth is told of set in egypt, and of indra in the veda, as will be shown later. this is a very common fable, and, as mr. whitley stokes tells me, it recurs in old irish legends of the birth of our lord, myth, as usual, invading religion, even christian religion. according to another version of the origin of things, the maker of them was one michabous, or michabo, the great hare. his birthplace was shown at an island called michilimakinak, like the birthplace of apollo at delos. the great hare made the earth, and, as will afterwards appear, was the inventor of the arts of life. on the whole, the iroquois and algonkin myths agree in finding the origin of life in an upper world beyond the sky. the earth was either fished up (as by brahma when he dived in the shape of a boar) by some beast which descended to the bottom of the waters, or grew out of the tortoise on whose back ataentsic fell. the first dwellers in the world were either beasts like manabozho or michabo, the great hare, or the primeval wolves of the uinkarets,( ) or the creative musk-rat, or were more anthropomorphic heroes, such as ioskeha and tawiscara. as for the things in the world, some were made, some evolved, some are transformed parts of an early non-natural man or animal. there is a tendency to identify ataentsic, the sky-woman, with the moon, and in the two great brethren, hostile as they are, to recognise moon and sun.( ) ( ) powell, bureau of ethnology, i. . ( ) dr. brinton has endeavoured to demonstrate by arguments drawn from etymology that michabos, messou, missibizi or manabozho, the great hare, is originally a personification of dawn (myths of the new world, p. ). i have examined his arguments in the nineteenth century, january, , which may be consulted, and in melusine, january, . the hare appears to be one out of the countless primeval beast-culture heroes. a curious piece of magic in a tradition of the dene hareskins may seem to aid dr. brinton's theory: "pendant la nuit il entra, jeta au feu une tete de lievre blanc et aussitot le jour se fit".--petitot, traditions indiennes, p. . but i take it that the sacrifice of a white hare's head makes light magically, as sacrifice of black beasts and columns of black smoke make rainclouds. some of the degraded digger indians of california have the following myth of the origin of species. in this legend, it will be noticed, a species of evolution takes the place of a theory of creation. the story was told to mr. adam johnston, who "drew" the narrator by communicating to a chief the biblical narrative of the creation.( ) the chief said it was a strange story, and one that he had never heard when he lived at the mission of st. john under the care of a padre. according to this chief (he ruled over the po-to-yan-te tribe or coyotes), the first indians were coyotes. when one of their number died, his body became full of little animals or spirits. they took various shapes, as of deer, antelopes, and so forth; but as some exhibited a tendency to fly off to the moon, the po-to-yan-tes now usually bury the bodies of their dead, to prevent the extinction of species. then the indians began to assume the shape of man, but it was a slow transformation. at first they walked on all fours, then they would begin to develop an isolated human feature, one finger, one toe, one eye, like the ascidian, our first parent in the view of modern science. then they doubled their organs, got into the habit of sitting up, and wore away their tails, which they unaffectedly regret, "as they consider the tail quite an ornament". ideas of the immortality of the soul are said to be confined to the old women of the tribe, and, in short, according to this version, the digger indians occupy the modern scientific position. ( ) schoolcraft, vol. v. the winnebagoes, who communicated their myths to mr. fletcher,( ) are suspected of having been influenced by the biblical narrative. they say that the great spirit woke up as from a dream, and found himself sitting in a chair. as he was all alone, he took a piece of his body and a piece of earth, and made a man. he next made a woman, steadied the earth by placing beasts beneath it at the corners, and created plants and animals. other men he made out of bears. "he created the white man to make tools for the poor indians"--a very pleasing example of a teleological hypothesis and of the doctrine of final causes as understood by the winnebagoes. the chaldean myth of the making of man is recalled by the legend that the great spirit cut out a piece of himself for the purpose; the chaldean wisdom coincides, too, with the philosophical acumen of the po-to-yan-te or coyote tribe of digger indians. though the chaldean theory is only connected with that of the red men by its savagery, we may briefly state it in this place. ( ) ibid., iv. . according to berosus, as reported by alexander polyhistor, the universe was originally (as before manabozho's time) water and mud. herein all manner of mixed monsters, with human heads, goat's horns, four legs, and tails, bred confusedly. in place of the iroquois ataentsic, a woman called omoroca presided over the mud and the menagerie. she, too, like ataentsic, is sometimes recognised as the moon. affairs being in this state, bel-maruduk arrived and cut omoroca in two (chokanipok destroyed ataentsic), and out of omoroca bel made the world and the things in it. we have already seen that in savage myth many things are fashioned out of a dead member of the extra-natural race. lastly, bel cut his own head off, and with the blood the gods mixed clay and made men. the chaldeans inherited very savage fancies.( ) ( ) cf. syncellus, p. ; euseb., chronic. armen., ed. mai, p. ; lenormant, origines de l'histoire, i. . one ought, perhaps, to apologise to the chaldeans for inserting their myths among the fables of the least cultivated peoples; but it will scarcely be maintained that the oriental myths differ in character from the digger indian and iroquois explanations of the origin of things. the ahts of vancouver island, whom mr. sproat knew intimately, and of whose ideas he gives a cautious account (for he was well aware of the limits of his knowledge), tell a story of the usual character.( ) they believe in a member of the extra-natural race, named quawteaht, of whom we shall hear more in his heroic character. as a demiurge "he is undoubtedly represented as the general framer, i do not say creator, of all things, though some special things are excepted. he made the earth and water, the trees and rocks, and all the animals. some say that quawteaht made the sun and moon, but the majority of the indians believe that he had nothing to do with their formation, and that they are deities superior to himself, though now distant and less active. he gave names to everything; among the rest, to all the indian houses which then existed, although inhabited only by birds and animals. quawteaht went away before the apparent change of the birds and beasts into indians, which took place in the following manner:-- "the birds and beasts of old had the spirits of the indians dwelling in them, and occupied the various coast villages, as the ahts do at present. one day a canoe manned by two indians from an unknown country approached the shore. as they coasted along, at each house at which they landed, the deer, bear, elk, and other brute inhabitants fled to the mountains, and the geese and other birds flew to the woods and rivers. but in this flight, the indians, who had hitherto been contained in the bodies of the various creatures, were left behind, and from that time they took possession of the deserted dwellings and assumed the condition in which we now see them." ( ) sproat, scenes and studies of savage life, pp. , . crossing the northern continent of america to the west, we are in the domains of various animal culture-heroes, ancestors and teachers of the human race and the makers, to some extent, of the things in the world. as the eastern tribes have their great hare, so the western tribes have their wolf hero and progenitor, or their coyote, or their raven, or their dog. it is possible, and even certain in some cases, that the animal which was the dominant totem of a race became heir to any cosmogonic legends that were floating about. the country of the papagos, on the eastern side of the gulf of california, is the southern boundary of the province of the coyote or prairie wolf. the realm of his influence as a kind of prometheus, or even as a demiurge, extends very far northwards. in the myth related by con quien, the chief of the central papagos,( ) the coyote acts the part of the fish in the sanskrit legend of the flood, while montezuma undertakes the role of manu. this montezuma was formed, like the adams of so many races, out of potter's clay in the hands of the great spirit. in all this legend it seems plain enough that the name of montezuma is imported from mexico, and has been arbitrarily given to the hero of the papagos. according to mr. powers, whose manuscript notes mr. bancroft quotes (iii. ), all the natives of california believe that their first ancestors were created directly from the earth of their present dwelling-places, and in very many cases these ancestors were coyotes. ( ) davidson, indian affairs report, , p. ; bancroft, iii. . the pimas, a race who live near the papagos on the eastern coast of the gulf of california, say that the earth was made by a being named earth-prophet. at first it appeared like a spider's web, reminding one of the west african legend that a great spider created the world. man was made by the earth-prophet out of clay kneaded with sweat. a mysterious eagle and a deluge play a great part in the later mythical adventures of war and the world, as known to the pimas.( ) ( ) communicated to mr. bancroft by mr. stout of the pima agency. in oregon the coyote appears as a somewhat tentative demiurge, and the men of his creation, like the beings first formed by prajapati in the sanskrit myth, needed to be reviewed, corrected and considerably augmented. the chinooks of oregon believe in the usual race of magnified non-natural men, who preceded humanity. these semi-divine people were called ulhaipa by the chinooks, and sehuiab by the lummies. but the coyote was the maker of men. as the first of nature's journeymen, he made men rather badly, with closed eyes and motionless feet. a kind being, named ikanam, touched up the coyote's crude essays with a sharp stone, opening the eyes of men, and giving their hands and feet the powers of movement. he also acted as a "culture-hero," introducing the first arts. ( ) ( ) (frauchere's narrative, ; gibb's chinook vocabulary; parker's exploring tour, i. ;) bancroft, iii. . moving up the west pacific coast we reach british columbia, where the coyote is not supposed to have been so active as our old friend the musk-rat in the great work of the creation. according to the tacullies, nothing existed in the beginning but water and a musk-rat. as the animal sought his food at the bottom of the water, his mouth was frequently filled with mud. this he spat out, and so gradually formed by alluvial deposit an island. this island was small at first, like earth in the sanskrit myth in the satapatha brahmana, but gradually increased in bulk. the tacullies have no new light to throw on the origin of man.( ) ( ) bancroft, iii. ; harmon's journey, pp. , . the thlinkeets, who are neighbours of the tacullies on the north, incline to give crow or raven the chief role in the task of creation, just as some australians allot the same part to the eagle-hawk, and the yakuts to a hawk, a crow and a teal-duck. we shall hear much of yehl later, as one of the mythical heroes of the introduction of civilisation. north of the thlinkeets, a bird and a dog take the creative duties, the aleuts and koniagas being descended from a dog. among the more northern tinnehs, the dog who was the progenitor of the race had the power of assuming the shape of a handsome young man. he supplied the protoplasm of the tinnehs, as purusha did that of the aryan world, out of his own body. a giant tore him to pieces, as the gods tore purusha, and out of the fragments thrown into the rivers came fish, the fragments tossed into the air took life as birds, and so forth.( ) this recalls the australian myth of the origin of fish and the ananzi stories of the origin of whips.( ) ( ) hearne, pp. , ; bancroft, iii. . ( ) see "divine myths of lower races". m. cosquin, in contes de lorraine, vol. i. p. , gives the ananzi story. between the cosmogonic myths of the barbarous or savage american tribes and those of the great cultivated american peoples, aztecs, peruvians and quiches, place should be found for the legends of certain races in the south pacific. of these, the most important are the maoris or natives of new zealand, the mangaians and the samoans. beyond the usual and world-wide correspondences of myth, the divine tales of the various south sea isles display resemblances so many and essential that they must be supposed to spring from a common and probably not very distant centre. as it is practically impossible to separate maori myths of the making of things from maori myths of the gods and their origin, we must pass over here the metaphysical hymns and stories of the original divine beings, rangi and papa, heaven and earth, and of their cruel but necessary divorce by their children, who then became the usual titanic race which constructs and "airs" the world for the reception of man.( ) among these beings, more fully described in our chapter on the gods of the lower races, is tiki, with his wife marikoriko, twilight. tane (male) is another of the primordial race, children of earth and heaven, and between him and tiki lies the credit of having made or begotten humanity. tane adorned the body of his father, heaven (rangi), by sticking stars all over it, as disks of pearl-shells are stuck all over images. he was the parent of trees and birds, but some trees are original and divine beings. the first woman was not born, but formed out of the sun and the echo, a pretty myth. man was made by tiki, who took red clay, and kneaded it with his own blood, or with the red water of swamps. the habits of animals, some of which are gods, while others are descended from gods, follow from their conduct at the moment when heaven and earth were violently divorced. new zealand itself, or at least one of the isles, was a huge fish caught by maui (of whom more hereafter). just as pund-jel, in australia, cut out the gullies and vales with his knife, so the mountains and dells of new zealand were produced by the knives of maui's brothers when they crimped his big fish.( ) quite apart from those childish ideas are the astonishing metaphysical hymns about the first stirrings of light in darkness, of "becoming" and "being," which remind us of hegel and heraclitus, or of the most purely speculative ideas in the rig-veda.( ) scarcely less metaphysical are the myths of mangaia, of which mr. gill( ) gives an elaborate account. ( ) see "divine myths of lower races". ( ) taylor, new zealand, pp. - ; bastian, heilige sage der polynesier, pp. - ; shortland, traditions of new zealanders. ( ) see chapter on "divine myths of the lower races," and on "indian cosmogonic myths" ( ) myths and songs from the south pacific, pp. - . the mangaian ideas of the world are complex, and of an early scientific sort. the universe is like the hollow of a vast cocoa-nut shell, divided into many imaginary circles like those of mediaeval speculation. there is a demon at the stem, as it were, of the cocoa-nut, and, where the edges of the imaginary shell nearly meet, dwells a woman demon, whose name means "the very beginning". in this system we observe efforts at metaphysics and physical speculation. but it is very characteristic of rude thought that such extremely abstract conceptions as "the very beginning" are represented as possessing life and human form. the woman at the bottom of the shell was anxious for progeny, and therefore plucked a bit out of her own right side, as eve was made out of the rib of adam. this piece of flesh became vatea, the father of gods and men. vatea (like oannes in the chaldean legend) was half man, half fish. "the very beginning" begat other children in the same manner, and some of these became departmental gods of ocean, noon-day, and so forth. curiously enough, the mangaians seem to be sticklers for primogeniture. vatea, as the first-born son, originally had his domain next above that of his mother. but she was pained by the thought that his younger brothers each took a higher place than his; so she pushed his land up, and it is now next below the solid crust on which mortals live in mangaia. vatea married a woman from one of the under worlds named papa, and their children had the regular human form. one child was born either from papa's head, like athene from the head of zeus, or from her armpit, like dionysus from the thigh of zeus. another child may be said, in the language of dog-breeders, to have "thrown back," for he wears the form of a white or black lizard. in the mangaian system the sky is a solid vault of blue stone. in the beginning of things the sky (like ouranos in greece and rangi in new zealand) pressed hard on earth, and the god ru was obliged to thrust the two asunder, or rather he was engaged in this task when maui tossed both ru and the sky so high up that they never came down again. ru is now the atlas of mangaia, "the sky-supporting ru".( ) his lower limbs fell to earth, and became pumice-stone. in these mangaian myths we discern resemblances to new zealand fictions, as is natural, and the tearing of the body of "the very beginning" has numerous counterparts in european, american and indian fable. but on the whole, the mangaian myths are more remarkable for their semi-scientific philosophy than for their coincidences with the fancies of other early peoples. ( ) gill, p. . the samoans, like the maoris and greeks, hold that heaven at first fell down and lay upon earth.( ) the arrowroot and another plant pushed up heaven, and "the heaven-pushing place" is still known and pointed out. others say the god ti-iti-i pushed up heaven, and his feet made holes six feet deep in the rocks during this exertion. the other samoan myths chiefly explain the origin of fire, and the causes of the characteristic forms and habits of animals and plants. the samoans, too, possess a semi-mythical, metaphysical cosmogony, starting from nothing, but rapidly becoming the history of rocks, clouds, hills, dew and various animals, who intermarried, and to whom the royal family of samoa trace their origin through twenty-three generations. so personal are samoan abstract conceptions, that "space had a long-legged stool," on to which a head fell, and grew into a companion for space. yet another myth says that the god tangaloa existed in space, and made heaven and earth, and sent down his daughter, a snipe. man he made out of the mussel-fish. so confused are the doctrines of the samoans.( ) ( ) turner's samoa, p. . ( ) turner's samoa, pp. - . perhaps the cosmogonic myths of the less cultivated races have now been stated in sufficient number. as an example of the ideas which prevailed in an american race of higher culture, we may take the quiche legend as given in the popol vuh, a post-christian collection of the sacred myths of the nation, written down after the spanish conquest, and published in french by the abbe brasseur de bourbourg.( ) ( ) see popol vuh in mr. max muller's chips from a german workshop, with a discussion of its authenticity. in his annals of the cakchiquels, a nation bordering on the quiches, dr. brinton expresses his belief in the genuine character of the text. compare bancroft, iii. p. . the ancient and original popol vuh, the native book in native characters, disappeared during the spanish conquest. the quiches, like their neighbours the cakchiquels, were a highly civilised race, possessing well-built towns, roads and the arts of life, and were great agriculturists. maize, the staple of food among these advanced americans, was almost as great a god as soma among the indo-aryans. the quiches were acquainted with a kind of picture-writing, and possessed records in which myth glided into history. the popol vuh, or book of the people, gives itself out as a post-columbian copy of these traditions, and may doubtless contain european ideas. as we see in the commentarias reales of the half-blood inca garcilasso de la vega, the conquered people were anxious to prove that their beliefs were by no means so irrational and so "devilish" as to spanish critics they appeared. according to the popol vuh, there was in the beginning nothing but water and the feathered serpent, one of their chief divine beings; but there also existed somehow, "they that gave life". their names mean "shooter of blow-pipe at coyote," "at opossum," and so forth. they said "earth," and there was earth, and plants growing thereon. animals followed, and the givers of life said "speak our names," but the animals could only cluck and croak. then said the givers, "inasmuch as ye cannot praise us, ye shall be killed and eaten". they then made men out of clay; these men were weak and watery, and by water they were destroyed. next they made men of wood and women of the pith of trees. these puppets married and gave in marriage, and peopled earth with wooden mannikins. this unsatisfactory race was destroyed by a rain of resin and by the wild beasts. the survivors developed into apes. next came a period occupied by the wildest feats of the magnified non-natural race and of animals. the record is like the description of a supernatural pantomime--the nightmare of a god. the titans upset hills, are turned into stone, and behave like heitsi eibib in the namaqua myths. last of all, men were made of yellow and white maize, and these gave more satisfaction, but their sight was contracted. these, however, survived, and became the parents of the present stock of humanity. here we have the conceptions of creation and of evolution combined. men are made, but only the fittest survive; the rest are either destroyed or permitted to develop into lower species. a similar mixture of the same ideas will be found in one of the brahmanas among the aryans of india. it is to be observed that the quiche myths, as recorded in popol vuh, contain not only traces of belief in a creative word and power, but many hymns of a lofty and beautifully devotional character. "hail! o creator, o former! thou that hearest and understandest us, abandon us not, forsake us not! o god, thou that art in heaven and on the earth, o heart of heaven, o heart of earth, give us descendants and posterity as long as the light endures." this is an example of the prayers of the men made out of maize, made especially that they might "call on the name" of the god or gods. whether we are to attribute this and similar passages to christian influence (for popol vuh, as we have it, is but an attempt to collect the fragments of the lost book that remained in men's minds after the conquest), or whether the purer portions of the myth be due to untaught native reflection and piety, it is not possible to determine. it is improbable that the ideas of a hostile race would be introduced into religious hymns by their victims. here, as elsewhere in the sacred legends of civilised peoples, various strata of mythical and religious thought coexist. no american people reached such a pitch of civilisation as the aztecs of anahuac, whose capital was the city of mexico. it is needless here to repeat the story of their grandeur and their fall. obscure as their history, previous to the spanish invasion, may be, it is certain that they possessed a highly organised society, fortified towns, established colleges or priesthoods, magnificent temples, an elaborate calendar, great wealth in the precious metals, the art of picture-writing in considerable perfection, and a despotic central government. the higher classes in a society like this could not but develop speculative systems, and it is alleged that shortly before the reign of montezuma attempts had been made to introduce a pure monotheistic religion. but the ritual of the aztecs remained an example of the utmost barbarity. never was a more cruel faith, not even in carthage. nowhere did temples reek with such pools of human blood; nowhere else, not in dahomey and ashanti, were human sacrifice, cannibalism and torture so essential to the cult that secured the favour of the gods. in these dark fanes--reeking with gore, peopled by monstrous shapes of idols bird-headed or beast-headed, and adorned with the hideous carvings in which we still see the priest, under the mask of some less ravenous forest beast, tormenting the victim--in these abominable temples the castilian conquerors might well believe that they saw the dwellings of devils. yet mexican religion had its moral and beautiful aspect, and the gods, or certain of the gods, required from their worshippers not only bloody hands, but clean hearts. to the gods we return later. the myths of the origin of things may be studied without a knowledge of the whole aztec pantheon. our authorities, though numerous, lack complete originality and are occasionally confused. we have first the aztec monuments and hieroglyphic scrolls, for the most part undeciphered. these merely attest the hideous and cruel character of the deities. next we have the reports of early missionaries, like sahagun and mendieta, of conquerors, like bernal diaz, and of noble half-breeds, such as ixtlilxochitl.( ) ( ) bancroft's native races of pacific coast of north america, vol. iii., contains an account of the sources, and, with sahagun and acosta, is mainly followed here. see also j. g. muller, ur. amerik. rel., p. . see chapter on the "divine myths of mexico". there are two elements in mexican, as in quiche, and indo-aryan, and maori, and even andaman cosmogonic myth. we find the purer religion and the really philosophic speculation concurrent with such crude and childish stories as usually satisfy the intellectual demands of ahts, cahrocs and bushmen; but of the purer and more speculative opinions we know little. many of the noble, learned and priestly classes of aztecs perished at the conquest. the survivors were more or less converted to catholicism, and in their writings probably put the best face possible on the native religion. like the spanish clergy, their instructors, they were inclined to explain away their national gods by a system of euhemerism, by taking it for granted that the gods and culture-heroes had originally been ordinary men, worshipped after their decease. this is almost invariably the view adopted by sahagun. side by side with the confessions, as it were, of the clergy and cultivated classes coexisted the popular beliefs, the myths of the people, partaking of the nature of folk-lore, but not rejected by the priesthood. both strata of belief are represented in the surviving cosmogonic myths of the aztecs. probably we may reckon in the first or learned and speculative class of tales the account of a series of constructions and reconstructions of the world. this idea is not peculiar to the higher mythologies, the notion of a deluge and recreation or renewal of things is almost universal, and even among the untutored australians there are memories of a flood and of an age of ruinous winds. but the theory of definite epochs, calculated in accordance with the mexican calendar, of epochs in which things were made and re-made, answers closely to the indo-aryan conception of successive kalpas, and can only have been developed after the method of reckoning time had been carried to some perfection. "when heaven and earth were fashioned, they had already been four times created and destroyed," say the fragments of what is called the chimalpopoca manuscript. probably this theory of a series of kalpas is only one of the devices by which the human mind has tried to cheat itself into the belief that it can conceive a beginning of things. the earth stands on an elephant, the elephant on a tortoise, and it is going too far to ask what the tortoise stands on. in the same way the world's beginning seems to become more intelligible or less puzzling when it is thrown back into a series of beginnings and endings. this method also was in harmony with those vague ideas of evolution and of the survival of the fittest which we have detected in myth. the various tentative human races of the popol vuh degenerated or were destroyed because they did not fulfil the purposes for which they were made. in brahmanic myth we shall see that type after type was condemned and perished because it was inadequate, or inadequately equipped--because it did not harmonise with its environment.( ) for these series of experimental creations and inefficient evolutions vast spaces of time were required, according to the aztec and indo-aryan philosophies. it is not impossible that actual floods and great convulsions of nature may have been remembered in tradition, and may have lent colour and form to these somewhat philosophic myths of origins. from such sources probably comes the mexican hypothesis of a water-age (ending in a deluge), an earth-age (ending in an earthquake), a wind-age (ending in hurricanes), and the present dispensation, to be destroyed by fire. ( ) as an example of a dim evolutionary idea, note the myths of the various ages as reported by mendieta, according to which there were five earlier ages "or suns" of bad quality, so that the contemporary human beings were unable to live on the fruits of the earth. the less philosophic and more popular aztec legend of the commencement of the world is mainly remarkable for the importance given in it to objects of stone. for some reason, stones play a much greater part in american than in other mythologies. an emerald was worshipped in the temple of pachacamac, who was, according to garcilasso, the supreme and spiritual deity of the incas. the creation legend of the cakchiquels of guatemala( ) makes much of a mysterious, primeval and animated obsidian stone. in the iroquois myths( ) stones are the leading characters. nor did aztec myth escape this influence. ( ) brinton, annals of the cakchiquels. ( ) erminie smith, bureau of ethnol. report, ii. there was a god in heaven named citlalatonac, and a goddess, citlalicue. when we speak of "heaven" we must probably think of some such world of ordinary terrestrial nature above the sky as that from which ataentsic fell in the huron story. the goddess gave birth to a flint-knife, and flung the flint down to earth. this abnormal birth partly answers to that of the youngest of the adityas, the rejected abortion in the veda, and to the similar birth and rejection of maui in new zealand. from the fallen flint-knife sprang our old friends the magnified non-natural beings with human characteristics, "the gods," to the number of . the gods sent up the hawk (who in india and australia generally comes to the front on these occasions), and asked their mother, or rather grandmother, to help them to make men, to be their servants. citlalicue rather jeered at her unconsidered offspring. she advised them to go to the lord of the homes of the departed, mictlanteuctli, and borrow a bone or some ashes of the dead who are with him. we must never ask for consistency from myths. this statement implies that men had already been in existence, though they were not yet created. perhaps they had perished in one of the four great destructions. with difficulty and danger the gods stole a bone from hades, placed it in a bowl, and smeared it with their own blood, as in chaldea and elsewhere. finally, a boy and a girl were born out of the bowl. from this pair sprang men, and certain of the gods, jumping into a furnace, became sun and moon. to the sun they then, in aztec fashion, sacrificed themselves, and there, one might think, was an end of them. but they afterwards appeared in wondrous fashions to their worshippers, and ordained the ritual of religion. according to another legend, man and woman (as in african myths) struggled out of a hole in the ground.( ) ( ) authorities: ixtlil.; kingsborough, ix. pp. , ; sahagun, hist. gen., i. , vii. ; j. g. muller, p. , where muller compares the delphic conception of ages of the world; bancroft, iii. pp. , . the myths of the peoples under the empire of the incas in peru are extremely interesting, because almost all mythical formations are found existing together, while we have historical evidence as to the order and manner of their development. the peru of the incas covered the modern state of the same name, and included ecuador, with parts of chili and bolivia. m. reville calculates that the empire was about miles in length, four times as long as france, and that its breadth was from to miles. the country, contained three different climatic regions, and was peopled by races of many different degrees of culture, all more or less subject to the dominion of the children of the sun. the three regions were the dry strip along the coast, the fertile and cultivated land about the spurs of the cordilleras, and the inland mountain regions, inhabited by the wildest races. near cuzco, the inca capital, was the lake of titicaca, the mediterranean, as it were, of peru, for on the shores of this inland sea was developed the chief civilisation of the new world. as to the institutions, myths and religion of the empire, we have copious if contradictory information. there are the narratives of the spanish conquerors, especially of pizarro's chaplain, valverde, an ignorant bigoted fanatic. then we have somewhat later travellers and missionaries, of whom cieza de leon (his book was published thirty years after the conquest, in ) is one of the most trustworthy. the "royal commentaries" of garcilasso de la vega, son of an inca lady and a spanish conqueror, have often already been quoted. the critical spirit and sound sense of garcilasso are in remarkable contrast to the stupid orthodoxy of the spaniards, but some allowance must be made for his fervent peruvian patriotism. he had heard the inca traditions repeated in boyhood, and very early in life collected all the information which his mother and maternal uncle had to give him, or which could be extracted from the quipus (the records of knotted cord), and from the commemorative pictures of his ancestors. garcilasso had access, moreover, to the "torn papers" of blas valera, an early spanish missionary of unusual sense and acuteness. christoval de moluna is also an excellent authority, and much may be learned from the volume of rites and laws of the yncas.( ) ( ) a more complete list of authorities, including the garrulous acosta, is published by m. reville in his hibbert lectures, pp. , . garcilasso, cieza de leon, christoval de moluna, acosta and the rites and laws have all been translated by mr. clements markham, and are published, with the editor's learned and ingenious notes, in the collection of the hakluyt society. care must be taken to discriminate between what is reported about the indians of the various provinces, who were in very different grades of culture, and what is told about the incas themselves. the political and religious condition of the peruvian empire is very clearly conceived and stated by garcilasso. without making due allowance for that mysterious earlier civilisation, older than the incas, whose cyclopean buildings are the wonder of travellers, garcilasso attributes the introduction of civilisation to his own ancestors. allowing for what is confessedly mythical in his narrative, it must be admitted that he has a firm grasp of what the actual history must have been. he recognises a period of savagery before the incas, a condition of the rudest barbarism, which still existed on the fringes and mountain recesses of the empire. the religion of that period was mere magic and totemism. from all manner of natural objects, but chiefly from beasts and birds, the various savage stocks of peru claimed descent, and they revered and offered sacrifice to their totemic ancestors.( ) garcilasso adds, what is almost incredible, that the indians tamely permitted themselves to be eaten by their totems, when these were carnivorous animals. they did this with the less reluctance as they were cannibals, and accustomed to breed children for the purposes of the cuisine from captive women taken in war.( ) among the huacas or idols, totems, fetishes and other adorable objects of the indians, worshipped before and retained after the introduction of the inca sun-totem and solar cult, garcilasso names trees, hills, rocks, caves, fountains, emeralds, pieces of jasper, tigers, lions, bears, foxes, monkeys, condors, owls, lizards, toads, frogs, sheep, maize, the sea, "for want of larger gods, crabs" and bats. the bat was also the totem of the zotzil, the chief family of the cakchiquels of guatemala, and the most high god of the cakchiquels was worshipped in the shape of a bat. we are reminded of religion as it exists in samoa. the explanation of blas valera was that in each totem (pacarissa) the indians adored the devil. ( ) com. real., vol. i., chap. ix., x. xi. pp. - . ( ) cieza de leon, xii., xv., xix., xxi., xxiii., xxvi., xxviii., xxxii. cieza is speaking of people in the valley of cauca, in new granada. athwart this early religion of totems and fetishes came, in garcilasso's narrative, the purer religion of the incas, with what he regards as a philosophic development of a belief in a supreme being. according to him, the inca sun-worship was really a totemism of a loftier character. the incas "knew how to choose gods better than the indians". garcilasso's theory is that the earlier totems were selected chiefly as distinguishing marks by the various stocks, though, of course, this does not explain why the animals or other objects of each family were worshipped or were regarded as ancestors, and the blood-connections of the men who adored them. the incas, disdaining crabs, lizards, bats and even serpents and lions, "chose" the sun. then, just like the other totemic tribes, they feigned to be of the blood and lineage of the sun. this fable is, in brief, the inca myth of the origin of civilisation and of man, or at least of their breed of men. as m. reville well remarks, it is obvious that the inca claim is an adaptation of the local myth of lake titicaca, the inland sea of peru. according to that myth, the children of the sun, the ancestors of the incas, came out of the earth (as in greek and african legends) at lake titicaca, or reached its shores after wandering from the hole or cave whence they first emerged. the myth, as adapted by the incas, takes for granted the previous existence of mankind, and, in some of its forms, the inca period is preceded by the deluge. of the peruvian myth concerning the origin of things, the following account is given by a spanish priest, christoval de moluna, in a report to the bishop of cuzco in .( ) the story was collected from the lips of ancient peruvians and old native priests, who again drew their information in part from the painted records reserved in the temple of the sun near cuzco. the legend begins with a deluge myth; a cataclysm ended a period of human existence. all mankind perished except a man and woman, who floated in a box to a distance of several hundred miles from cuzco. there the creator commanded them to settle, and there, like pund-jel in australia, he made clay images of men of all races, attired in their national dress, and then animated them. they were all fashioned and painted as correct models, and were provided with their national songs and with seed-corn. they then were put into the earth, and emerged all over the world at the proper places, some (as in africa and greece) coming out of fountains, some out of trees, some out of caves. for this reason they made huacas (worshipful objects or fetishes) of the trees, caves and fountains. some of the earliest men were changed into stones, others into falcons, condors and other creatures which we know were totems in peru. probably this myth of metamorphosis was invented to account for the reverence paid to totems or pacarissas as the peruvians called them. in tiahuanaco, where the creation, or rather manufacture of men took place, the creator turned many sinners into stones. the sun was made in the shape of a man, and, as he soared into heaven, he called out in a friendly fashion to manco ccapac, the ideal first inca, "look upon me as thy father, and worship me as thy father". in these fables the creator is called pachyachachi, "teacher of the world". according to christoval, the creator and his sons were "eternal and unchangeable". among the canaris men descend from the survivor of the deluge, and a beautiful bird with the face of a woman, a siren in fact, but known better to ornithologists as a macaw. "the chief cause," says the good christoval, "of these fables was ignorance of god." ( ) rites and laws of the yncas, p. , hakluyt society, . the story, as told by cieza de leon, runs thus:( ) a white man of great stature (in fact, "a magnified non-natural man") came into the world, and gave life to beasts and human beings. his name was ticiviracocha, and he was called the father of the sun.( ) there are likenesses of him in the temple, and he was regarded as a moral teacher. it was owing apparently to this benevolent being that four mysterious brothers and sisters emerged from a cave--children of the sun, fathers of the incas, teachers of savage men. their own conduct, however, was not exemplary, and they shut up in a hole in the earth the brother of whom they were jealous. this incident is even more common in the marchen or household tales than in the regular tribal or national myths of the world.( ) the buried brother emerged again with wings, and "without doubt he must have been some devil," says honest cieza de leon. this brother was manco ccapac, the heroic ancestor of the incas, and he turned his jealous brethren into stones. the whole tale is in the spirit illustrated by the wilder romances of the popol vuh. ( ) second part of the chronicles of peru, p . ( ) see making of religion, pp. - . name and god are much disputed. ( ) the story of joseph and the marchen of jean de l'ours are well-known examples. garcilasso gives three forms of this myth. according to "the old inca," his maternal uncle, it was the sun which sent down two of his children, giving them a golden staff, which would sink into the ground at the place where they were to rest from wandering. it sank at lake titicaca. about the current myths garcilasso says generally that they were "more like dreams" than straightforward stories; but, as he adds, the greeks and romans also "invented fables worthy to be laughed at, and in greater number than the indians. the stories of one age of heathenism may be compared with those of the other, and in many points they will be found to agree." this critical position of garcilasso's will be proved correct when we reach the myths of greeks and indo-aryans. the myth as narrated north-east of cuzco speaks of the four brothers and four sisters who came out of caves, and the caves in inca times were panelled with gold and silver. athwart all these lower myths, survivals from the savage stage, comes what garcilasso regards as the philosophical inca belief in pachacamac. this deity, to garcilasso's mind, was purely spiritual: he had no image and dwelt in no temple; in fact, he is that very god whom the spanish missionaries proclaimed. this view, though the fact has been doubted, was very probably held by the amautas, or philosophical class in peru.( ) cieza de leon says "the name of this devil, pachacamac, means creator of the world". garcilasso urges that pachacamac was the animus mundi; that he did not "make the world," as pund-jel and other savage demiurges made it, but that he was to the universe what the soul is to the body. ( ) com. real., vol. i. p. . here we find ourselves, if among myths at all, among the myths of metaphysics--rational myths; that is, myths corresponding to our present stage of thought, and therefore intelligible to us. pachacamac "made the sun, and lightning, and thunder, and of these the sun was worshipped by the incas". garcilasso denies that the moon was worshipped. the reflections of the sceptical or monotheistic inca, who declared that the sun, far from being a free agent, "seems like a thing held to its task," are reported by garcilasso, and appear to prove that solar worship was giving way, in the minds of educated peruvians, a hundred years before the arrival of pizarro and valverde with his missal.( ) ( ) garcilasso, viii. , quoting blas valera. from this summary it appears that the higher peruvian religion had wrested to its service, and to the dynastic purposes of the incas, a native myth of the familiar class, in which men come ready made out of holes in the ground. but in peru we do not find nearly such abundance of other savage origin myths as will be proved to exist in the legends of greeks and indo-aryans. the reason probably is that peru left no native literature; the missionaries disdained stories of "devils," and garcilasso's common sense and patriotism were alike revolted by the incidents of stories "more like dreams" than truthful records. he therefore was silent about them. in greece and india, on the other hand, the native religious literature preserved myths of the making of man out of clay, of his birth from trees and stones, of the fashioning of things out of the fragments of mutilated gods and titans, of the cosmic egg, of the rending and wounding of a personal heaven and a personal earth, of the fishing up from the waters of a tiny earth which grew greater, of the development of men out of beasts, with a dozen other such notions as are familiar to contemporary bushmen, australians, digger indians, and cahrocs. but in greece and india these ideas coexist with myths and religious beliefs as purely spiritual and metaphysical as the belief in the pachacamac of garcilasso and the amautas of peru. chapter vii. indo-aryan myths--sources of evidence. authorities--vedas--brahmanas--social condition of vedic india--arts--ranks--war--vedic fetishism--ancestor worship--date of rig-veda hymns doubtful--obscurity of the hymns--difficulty of interpreting the real character of veda--not primitive but sacerdotal--the moral purity not innocence but refinement. before examining the myths of the aryans of india, it is necessary to have a clear notion of the nature of the evidence from which we derive our knowledge of the subject. that evidence is found in a large and incongruous mass of literary documents, the heritage of the indian people. in this mass are extremely ancient texts (the rig-veda, and the atharva-veda), expository comments of a date so much later that the original meaning of the older documents was sometimes lost (the brahmanas), and poems and legendary collections of a period later still, a period when the whole character of religious thought had sensibly altered. in this literature there is indeed a certain continuity; the names of several gods of the earliest time are preserved in the legends of the latest. but the influences of many centuries of change, of contending philosophies, of periods of national growth and advance, and of national decadence and decay, have been at work on the mythology of india. here we have myths that were perhaps originally popular tales, and are probably old; here again, we have later legends that certainly were conceived in the narrow minds of a pedantic and ceremonious priesthood. it is not possible, of course, to analyse in this place all the myths of all the periods; we must be content to point out some which seem to be typical examples of the working of the human intellect in its earlier or its later childhood, in its distant hours of barbaric beginnings, or in the senility of its sacerdotage. the documents which contain indian mythology may be divided, broadly speaking, into four classes. first, and most ancient in date of composition, are the collections of hymns known as the vedas. next, and (as far as date of collection goes) far less ancient, are the expository texts called the brahmanas. later still, come other manuals of devotion and of sacred learning, called sutras and upanishads; and last are the epic poems (itihasas), and the books of legends called puranas. we are chiefly concerned here with the vedas and brahmanas. a gulf of time, a period of social and literary change, separates the brahmanas from the vedas. but the epics and puranas differ perhaps even still more from the brahmanas, on account of vast religious changes which brought new gods into the indian olympus, or elevated to the highest place old gods formerly of low degree. from the composition of the first vedic hymn to the compilation of the latest purana, religious and mythopoeic fancy was never at rest. various motives induced various poets to assign, on various occasions the highest powers to this or the other god. the most antique legends were probably omitted or softened by some early vedic bard (rishi) of noble genius, or again impure myths were brought from the obscurity of oral circulation and foisted into literature by some poet less divinely inspired. old deities were half-forgotten, and forgotten deities were resuscitated. sages shook off superstitious bonds, priests forged new fetters on ancient patterns for themselves and their flocks. philosophy explained away the more degrading myths; myths as degrading were suggested to dark and servile hearts by unscientific etymologies. over the whole mass of ancient mythology the new mythology of a debased brahmanic ritualism grew like some luxurious and baneful parasite. it is enough for our purpose if we can show that even in the purest and most antique mythology of india the element of traditional savagery survived and played its part, and that the irrational legends of the vedas and brahmanas can often be explained as relics of savage philosophy or faith, or as novelties planned on the ancient savage model, whether borrowed or native to the race. the oldest documents of indian mythology are the vedas, usually reckoned as four in number. the oldest, again, of the four, is the sanhita ("collection") of the rig-veda. it is a purely lyrical assortment of the songs "which the hindus brought with them from their ancient homes on the banks of the indus". in the manuscripts, the hymns are classified according to the families of poets to whom they are ascribed. though composed on the banks of the indus by sacred bards, the hymns were compiled and arranged in india proper. at what date the oldest hymns of which this collection is made up were first chanted it is impossible to say with even approximate certainty. opinions differ, or have differed, between b.c. and b.c. as the period when the earliest sacred lyrics of the veda may first have been listened by gods and men. in addition to the rig-veda we have the sanhita of the sama-veda, "an anthology taken from the rik-samhita, comprising those of its verses which were intended to be chanted at the ceremonies of the soma sacrifice".( ) it is conjectured that the hymns of the sama-veda were borrowed from the rig-veda before the latter had been edited and stereotyped into its present form. next comes the yajur-veda, "which contains the formulas for the entire sacrificial ceremonial, and indeed forms its proper foundations," the other vedas being devoted to the soma sacrifice.( ) the yajur-veda has two divisions, known as the black and the white yajur, which have common matter, but differ in arrangement. the black yajur-veda is also called the taittirya, and it is described as "a motley undigested jumble of different pieces".( ) last comes atharva-veda, not always regarded as a veda properly speaking. it derives its name from an old semi-mythical priestly family, the atharvans, and is full of magical formulae, imprecations, folk-lore and spells. there are good reasons for thinking this late as a collection, however early may be the magical ideas expressed in its contents.( ) ( ) weber, history of indian literature, eng. transl., p. . ( ) ibid., p. . ( ) ibid, p. . the name taittirya is derived from a partridge, or from a rishi named partridge in sanskrit. there is a story that the pupils of a sage were turned into partridges, to pick up sacred texts. ( ) barth (les religions de l'inde, p. ) thinks that the existence of such a collection as the atharva-veda is implied, perhaps, in a text of the rig-veda, x. , . between the vedas, or, at all events, between the oldest of the vedas, and the compilation of the brahmanas, these "canonised explanations of a canonised text,"( ) it is probable that some centuries and many social changes intervened.( ) ( ) whitney, oriental and linguistic studies, first series, p. . ( ) max muller, biographical essays, p. . "the prose portions presuppose the hymns, and, to judge from the utter inability of the authors of the brahmanas to understand the antiquated language of the hymns, these brahmanas must be ascribed to a much later period than that which gave birth to the hymns." if we would criticise the documents for indian mythology in a scientific manner, it is now necessary that we should try to discover, as far as possible, the social and religious condition of the people among whom the vedas took shape. were they in any sense "primitive," or were they civilised? was their religion in its obscure beginnings or was it already a special and peculiar development, the fruit of many ages of thought? now it is an unfortunate thing that scholars have constantly, and as it were involuntarily, drifted into the error of regarding the vedas as if they were "primitive," as if they exhibited to us the "germs" and "genesis" of religion and mythology, as if they contained the simple though strange utterances of primitive thought.( ) thus mr. whitney declares, in his oriental and linguistic studies, "that the vedas exhibit to us the very earliest germs of the hindu culture". mr. max muller avers that "no country can be compared to india as offering opportunities for a real study of the genesis and growth of religion".( ) yet the same scholar observes that "even the earliest specimens of vedic poetry belong to the modern history of the race, and that the early period of the historical growth of religion had passed away before the rishis (bards) could have worshipped their devas or bright beings with sacred hymns and invocations". though this is manifestly true, the sacred hymns and invocations of the rishis are constantly used as testimony bearing on the beginning of the historical growth of religion. nay, more; these remains of "the modern history of the race" are supposed to exhibit mythology in the process of making, as if the race had possessed no mythology before it reached a comparatively modern period, the vedic age. in the same spirit, dr. muir, the learned editor of sanskrit texts, speaks in one place as if the vedic hymns "illustrated the natural workings of the human mind in the period of its infancy".( ) a brief examination of the social and political and religious condition of man, as described by the poets of the vedas, will prove that his infancy had long been left behind him when the first vedic hymns were chanted. ( ) ibid., rig-veda sanhita, p. vii. ( ) hibbert lectures, p. . ( ) nothing can prove more absolutely and more briefly the late character of vedic faith than the fact that the faith had already to be defended against the attacks of sceptics. the impious denied the existence of indra because he was invisible. rig-veda, ii. , ; viii. , ; v. , - ; vi. , . bergaigne, ii. . "es gibt keinen indra, so hat der eine und der ander gesagt" (ludwig's version). as barth observes, the very ideas which permeate the veda, the idea of the mystic efficacy of sacrifice, of brahma, prove that the poems are profoundly sacerdotal; and this should have given pause to the writers who have persisted in representing the hymns as the work of primitive shepherds praising their gods as they feed their flocks.( ) in the vedic age the ranks of society are already at least as clearly defined as in homeric greece. "we men," says a poet of the rig-veda,( ) "have all our different imaginations and designs. the carpenter seeks something that is broken, the doctor a patient, the priest some one who will offer libations.... the artisan continually seeks after a man with plenty of gold.... i am a poet, my father is a doctor, and my mother is a grinder of corn." chariots and the art of the chariot-builder are as frequently spoken of as in the iliad. spears, swords, axes and coats of mail were in common use. the art of boat-building or of ship-building was well known. kine and horses, sheep and dogs, had long been domesticated. the bow was a favourite weapon, and warriors fought in chariots, like the homeric greeks and the egyptians. weaving was commonly practised. the people probably lived, as a rule, in village settlements, but cities or fortified places were by no means unknown.( ) as for political society, "kings are frequently mentioned in the hymns," and "it was regarded as eminently beneficial for a king to entertain a family priest," on whom he was expected to confer thousands of kine, lovely slaves and lumps of gold. in the family polygamy existed, probably as the exception. there is reason to suppose that the brother-in-law was permitted, if not expected, to "raise up seed" to his dead brother, as among the hebrews.( ) as to literature, the very structure of the hymns proves that it was elaborate and consciously artistic. m. barth writes: "it would be a great mistake to speak of the primitive naivete of the vedic poetry and religion".( ) both the poetry and the religion, on the other hand, display in the highest degree the mark of the sacerdotal spirit. the myths, though originally derived from nature-worship, in an infinite majority of cases only reflect natural phenomena through a veil of ritualistic corruptions.( ) the rigid division of castes is seldom recognised in the rig-veda. we seem to see caste in the making.( ) the rishis and priests of the princely families were on their way to becoming the all-powerful brahmans. the kings and princes were on their way to becoming the caste of kshatriyas or warriors. the mass of the people was soon to sink into the caste of vaisyas and broken men. non-aryan aborigines and others were possibly developing into the caste of sudras. thus the spirit of division and of ceremonialism had still some of its conquests to achieve. but the extraordinary attention given and the immense importance assigned to the details of sacrifice, and the supernatural efficacy constantly attributed to a sort of magical asceticism (tapas, austere fervour), prove that the worst and most foolish elements of later indian society and thought were in the vedic age already in powerful existence. ( ) les religions de l'inde, p. . ( ) ix. . ( ) ludwig, rig-veda, iii. . the burgs were fortified with wooden palisades, capable of being destroyed by fire. "cities" may be too magnificent a word for what perhaps were more like pahs. but compare kaegi, the rig-veda, note , engl. transl. kaegi's book (translated by dr. arrowsmith, boston, u.s., ) is probably the best short manual of the subject. ( ) deut. xxv. ; matt. xxii. . ( ) revue de l'histoire des religions, i. . ( ) ludwig, iii. . ( ) on this subject see muir, i. , with the remarks of haug. "from all we know, the real origin of caste seems to go back to a time anterior to the composition of the vedic hymns, though its development into a regular system with insurmountable barriers can be referred only to the later period of the vedic times." roth approaches the subject from the word brahm, that is, prayer with a mystical efficacy, as his starting-point. from brahm, prayer, came brahma, he who pronounces the prayers and performs the rite. this celebrant developed into a priest, whom to entertain brought blessings on kings. this domestic chaplaincy (conferring peculiar and even supernatural benefits) became hereditary in families, and these, united by common interests, exalted themselves into the brahman caste. but in the vedic age gifts of prayer and poetry alone marked out the purohitas, or men put forward to mediate between gods and mortals. compare ludwig, iii. . thus it is self-evident that the society in which the vedic poets lived was so far from being primitive that it was even superior to the higher barbarisms (such as that of the scythians of herodotus and germans of tacitus), and might be regarded as safely arrived at the threshold of civilisation. society possessed kings, though they may have been kings of small communities, like those who warred with joshua or fought under the walls of thebes or troy. poets were better paid than they seem to have been at the courts of homer or are at the present time. for the tribal festivals special priests were appointed, "who distinguished themselves by their comprehensive knowledge of the requisite rites and by their learning, and amongst whom a sort of rivalry is gradually developed, according as one tribe or another is supposed to have more or less prospered by its sacrifices".( ) in the family marriage is sacred, and traces of polyandry and of the levirate, surviving as late as the epic poems, were regarded as things that need to be explained away. perhaps the most barbaric feature in vedic society, the most singular relic of a distant past, is the survival, even in a modified and symbolic form, of human sacrifice.( ) ( ) weber, p. . ( ) wilson, rig-veda, i. p. - ; muir, i. ii.; wilson, rig-veda i. p. xxiv., ii. (ii. ); aitareya brahmana, haug's version, vol. ii. pp. , . as to the religious condition of the vedic aryans, we must steadily remember that in the vedas we have the views of the rishis only, that is, of sacred poets on their way to becoming a sacred caste. necessarily they no more represent the popular creeds than the psalmists and prophets, with their lofty monotheistic morality, represent the popular creeds of israel. the faith of the rishis, as will be shown later, like that of the psalmists, has a noble moral aspect. yet certain elements of this higher creed are already found in the faiths of the lowest savages. the rishis probably did not actually invent them. consciousness of sin, of imperfection in the sight of divine beings, has been developed (as it has even in australia) and is often confessed. but on the whole the religion of the rishis is practical--it might almost be said, is magical. they desire temporal blessings, rain, sunshine, long life, power, wealth in flocks and herds. the whole purpose of the sacrifices which occupy so much of their time and thought is to obtain these good things. the sacrifice and the sacrificer come between gods and men. on the man's side is faith, munificence, a compelling force of prayer and of intentness of will. the sacrifice invigorates the gods to do the will of the sacrificer; it is supposed to be mystically celebrated in heaven as well as on earth--the gods are always sacrificing. often (as when rain is wanted) the sacrifice imitates the end which it is desirable to gain.( ) in all these matters a minute ritual is already observed. the mystic word brahma, in the sense of hymn or prayer of a compelling and magical efficacy, has already come into use. the brahma answers almost to the maori karakia or incantation and charm. "this brahma of visvamitra protects the tribe of bharata." "atri with the fourth prayer discovered the sun concealed by unholy darkness."( ) the complicated ritual, in which prayer and sacrifice were supposed to exert a constraining influence on the supernatural powers, already existed, haug thinks, in the time of the chief rishis or hymnists of the rig-veda.( ) ( ) compare "the prayers of savages" in j. a. farrer's primitive manners, and ludwig, iii. - , and see bergaigne, la religion vedique, vol. i. p. . ( ) see texts in muir, i. . ( ) preface to translation of aitareya brahmana, p. . in many respects the nature of the idea of the divine, as entertained by the rishis of the rig-veda, is still matter for discussion. in the chapter on vedic gods such particulars as can be ascertained will be given. roughly speaking, the religion is mainly, though not wholly, a cult of departmental gods, originally, in certain cases, forces of nature, but endowed with moral earnestness. as to fetishism in the vedas the opinions of the learned are divided. m. bergaigne( ) looks on the whole ritual as, practically, an organised fetishism, employed to influence gods of a far higher and purer character. mr. max muller remarks, "that stones, bones, shells, herbs and all the other so-called fetishes, are simply absent in the old hymns, though they appear in more modern hymns, particularly those of the atharva-veda. when artificial objects are mentioned and celebrated in the rig-veda, they are only such as might be praised even by wordsworth or tennyson--chariots, bows, quivers, axes, drums, sacrificial vessels and similar objects. they never assume any individual character; they are simply mentioned as useful or precious, it may be as sacred."( ) ( ) la religion vedique, vol. i. p. . "le culte est assimilable dans une certaine mesure aux incantations, aux pratiques magiques." ( ) hibbert lectures, p. . when the existence of fetish "herbs" is denied by mr. max muller, he does not, of course, forget soma, that divine juice. it is also to be noted that in modern india, as mr. max muller himself observes, sir alfred lyall finds that "the husbandman prays to his plough and the fisher to his net," these objects being, at present, fetishes. in opposition to mr. max muller, barth avers that the same kind of fetishism which flourishes to-day flourishes in the rig-veda. "mountains, rivers, springs, trees, herbs are invoked as so many powers. the beasts which live with man--the horse, the cow, the dog, the bird and the animals which imperil his existence--receive a cult of praise and prayer. among the instruments of ritual, some objects are more than things consecrated--they are divinities; and the war-chariot, the weapons of defence and offence, the plough, are the objects not only of benedictions but of prayers."( ) these absolute contradictions on matters of fact add, of course, to the difficulty of understanding the early indo-aryan religion. one authority says that the vedic people were fetish-worshippers; another authority denies it. ( ) barth, les religions de l'inde, p. , with the vedic texts. were the rishis ancestor-worshippers? barth has no doubt whatever that they were. in the pitris or fathers he recognises ancestral spirits, now "companions of the gods, and gods themselves. at their head appear the earliest celebrants of the sacrifice, atharvan, the angiras, the kavis (the pitris, par excellence) equals of the greatest gods, spirits who, by dint of sacrifice, drew forth the world from chaos, gave birth to the sun and lighted the stars,"--cosmical feats which, as we have seen, are sometimes attributed by the lower races to their idealised mythic ancestors, the "old, old ones" of australians and ovahereroes. a few examples of invocations of the ancestral spirits may not be out of place.( ) "may the fathers protect me in my invocation of the gods." here is a curious case, especially when we remember how the wolf, in the north american myth, scattered the stars like spangles over the sky: "the fathers have adorned the sky with stars".( ) ( ) rig-veda, vi. , . ( ) ibid., x. , xi. mr. whitney (oriental and linguistic studies, first series, p. ) gives examples of the ceremony of feeding the aryan ghosts. "the fathers are supposed to assemble, upon due invocation, about the altar of him who would pay them homage, to seat themselves upon the straw or matting spread for each of the guests invited, and to partake of the offerings set before them." the food seems chiefly to consist of rice, sesame and honey. important as is the element of ancestor-worship in the evolution of religion, mr. max muller, in his hibbert lectures, merely remarks that thoughts and feelings about the dead "supplied some of the earliest and most important elements of religion"; but how these earliest elements affect his system does not appear. on a general view, then, the religion of the vedic poets contained a vast number of elements in solution--elements such as meet us in every quarter of the globe. the belief in ancestral ghosts, the adoration of fetishes, the devotion to a moral ideal, contemplated in the persons of various deities, some of whom at least have been, and partly remain, personal natural forces, are all mingled, and all are drifting towards a kind of pantheism, in which, while everything is divine, and gods are reckoned by millions, the worshipper has glimpses of one single divine essence. the ritual, as we have seen, is more or less magical in character. the general elements of the beliefs are found, in various proportions, everywhere; the pantheistic mysticism is almost peculiar to india. it is, perhaps, needless to repeat that a faith so very composite, and already so strongly differentiated, cannot possibly be "primitive," and that the beliefs and practices of a race so highly organised in society and so well equipped in material civilisation as the vedic aryans cannot possibly be "near the beginning". far from expecting to find in the veda the primitive myths of the aryans, we must remember that myth had already, when these hymns were sung, become obnoxious to the religious sentiment. "thus," writes barth, "the authors of the hymns have expurgated, or at least left in the shade, a vast number of legends older than their time; such, for example, as the identity of soma with the moon, as the account of the divine families, of the parricide of indra, and a long list might be made of the reticences of the veda.... it would be difficult to extract from the hymns a chapter on the loves of the gods. the goddesses are veiled, the adventures of the gods are scarcely touched on in passing.... we must allow for the moral delicacy of the singers, and for their dislike of speaking too precisely about the gods. sometimes it seems as if their chief object was to avoid plain speaking.... but often there is nothing save jargon and indolence of mind in this voluntary obscurity, for already in the veda the indian intellect is deeply smitten with its inveterate malady of affecting mystery the more, the more it has nothing to conceal; the mania for scattering symbols which symbolise no reality, and for sporting with riddles which it is not worth while to divine."( ) barth, however, also recognises amidst these confusions, "the inquietude of a heart deeply stirred, which seeks truth and redemption in prayer". such is the natural judgment of the clear french intellect on the wilfully obscure, tormented and evasive intellect of india. ( ) les religions de l'inde, p. . it would be interesting were it possible to illuminate the criticism of vedic religion by ascertaining which hymns in the rig-veda are the most ancient, and which are later. could we do this, we might draw inferences as to the comparative antiquity of the religious ideas in the poems. but no such discrimination of relative antiquity seems to be within the reach of critics. m. bergaigne thinks it impossible at present to determine the relative age of the hymns by any philological test. the ideas expressed are not more easily arrayed in order of date. we might think that the poems which contain most ceremonial allusions were the latest. but mr. max muller says that "even the earliest hymns have sentiments worthy of the most advanced ceremonialists".( ) ( ) history of sanskrit literature, p. . the first and oldest source of our knowledge of indo-aryan myths is the rig-veda, whose nature and character have been described. the second source is the atharva-veda with the brahmanas. the peculiarity of the atharva is its collection of magical incantations spells and fragments of folklore. these are often, doubtless, of the highest antiquity. sorcery and the arts of medicine-men are earlier in the course of evolution than priesthood. we meet them everywhere among races who have not developed the institution of an order of priests serving national gods. as a collection, the atharva-veda is later than the rig-veda, but we need not therefore conclude that the ideas of the atharva are "a later development of the more primitive ideas of the rig-veda". magic is quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus; the ideas of the atharva-veda are everywhere; the peculiar notions of the rig-veda are the special property of an advanced and highly differentiated people. even in the present collected shape, m. barth thinks that many hymns of the atharva are not much later than those of the rig-veda. mr. whitney, admitting the lateness of the atharva as a collection, says, "this would not necessarily imply that the main body of the atharva hymns were not already in existence when the compilation of the rig-veda took place".( ) the atharva refers to some poets of the rig (as certain hymnists in the rig also do) as earlier men. if in the rig (as weber says) "there breathes a lively natural feeling, a warm love of nature, while in the atharva, on the contrary, there predominates an anxious apprehension of evil spirits and their magical powers," it by no means follows that this apprehension is of later origin than the lively feeling for nature. rather the reverse. there appears to be no doubt( ) that the style and language of the atharva are later than those of the rig. roth, who recognises the change, in language and style, yet considers the atharva "part of the old literature".( ) he concludes that the atharva contains many pieces which, "both by their style and ideas, are shown to be contemporary with the older hymns of the rig-veda". in religion, according to muir,( ) the atharva shows progress in the direction of monotheism in its celebration of brahman, but it also introduces serpent-worship. ( ) journal of the american oriental society. iv. . ( ) muir, ii. . ( ) ibid., ii. . ( ) ibid., ii. . as to the atharva, then, we are free to suppose, if we like, that the dark magic, the evil spirits, the incantations, are old parts of indian, as of all other popular beliefs, though they come later into literature than the poetry about ushas and the morality of varuna. the same remarks apply to our third source of information, the brahmanas. these are indubitably comments on the sacred texts very much more modern in form than the texts themselves. but it does not follow, and this is most important for our purpose, that the myths in the brahmanas are all later than the vedic myths or corruptions of the veda. muir remarks,( ) "the rig-veda, though the oldest collection, does not necessarily contain everything that is of the greatest age in indian thought or tradition. we know, for example, that certain legends, bearing the impress of the highest antiquity, such as that of the deluge, appear first in the brahmanas." we are especially interested in this criticism, because most of the myths which we profess to explain as survivals of savagery are narrated in the brahmanas. if these are necessarily late corruptions of vedic ideas, because the collection of the brahmanas is far more modern than that of the veda, our argument is instantly disproved. but if ideas of an earlier stratum of thought than the vedic stratum may appear in a later collection, as ideas of an earlier stratum of thought than the homeric appear in poetry and prose far later than homer, then our contention is legitimate. it will be shown in effect that a number of myths of the brahmanas correspond in character and incident with the myths of savages, such as cahrocs and ahts. our explanation is, that these tales partly survived, in the minds perhaps of conservative local priesthoods, from the savage stage of thought, or were borrowed from aborigines in that stage, or were moulded in more recent times on surviving examples of that wild early fancy. ( ) muir, iv. . in the age of the brahmanas the people have spread southwards from the basin of the indus to that of the ganges. the old sacred texts have begun to be scarcely comprehensible. the priesthood has become much more strictly defined and more rigorously constituted. absurd as it may seem, the vedic metres, like the gayatri, have been personified, and appear as active heroines of stories presumably older than this personification. the asuras have descended from the rank of gods to that of the heavenly opposition to indra's government; they are now a kind of fiends, and the brahmanas are occupied with long stories about the war in heaven, itself a very ancient conception. varuna becomes cruel on occasion, and hostile. prajapati becomes the great mythical hero, and inherits the wildest myths of the savage heroic beasts and birds. the priests are now brahmans, a hereditary divine caste, who possess all the vast and puerile knowledge of ritual and sacrificial minutiae. as life in the opera is a series of songs, so life in the brahmanas is a sequence of sacrifices. sacrifice makes the sun rise and set, and the rivers run this way or that. the study of indian myth is obstructed, as has been shown, by the difficulty of determining the relative dates of the various legends, but there are a myriad of other obstacles to the study of indian mythology. a poet of the vedas says, "the chanters of hymns go about enveloped in mist, and unsatisfied with idle talk".( ) the ancient hymns are still "enveloped in mist," owing to the difficulty of their language and the variety of modern renderings and interpretations. the heretics of vedic religion, the opponents of the orthodox commentators in ages comparatively recent, used to complain that the vedas were simply nonsense, and their authors "knaves and buffoons". there are moments when the modern student of vedic myths is inclined to echo this petulant complaint. for example, it is difficult enough to find in the rig-veda anything like a categoric account of the gods, and a description of their personal appearance. but in rig-veda, viii. , , we read of one god, "a youth, brown, now hostile, now friendly; a golden lustre invests him". who is this youth? "soma as the moon," according to the commentators. m. langlois thinks the sun is meant. dr. aufrecht thinks the troop of maruts (spirits of the storm), to whom, he remarks, the epithet "dark-brown, tawny" is as applicable as it is to their master, rudra. this is rather confusing, and a mythological inquirer would like to know for certain whether he is reading about the sun or soma, the moon, or the winds. ( ) rig-veda, x. , , but compare bergaigne, op. cit., iii. , "enveloppes de nuees et de murmures". to take another example; we open mr. max muller's translation of the rig-veda at random, say at page . in the second verse of the hymn to the maruts, mr. muller translates, "they who were born together, self-luminous, with the spotted deer (the clouds), the spears, the daggers, the glittering ornaments. i hear their whips almost close by, as they crack them in their hands; they gain splendour on their way." now wilson translates this passage, "who, borne by spotted deer, were born self-luminous, with weapons, war-cries and decorations. i hear the cracking of their whips in their hands, wonderfully inspiring courage in the fight." benfey has, "who with stags and spears, and with thunder and lightning, self-luminous, were born. hard by rings the crack of their whip as it sounds in their hands; bright fare they down in storm." langlois translates, "just born are they, self-luminous. mark ye their arms, their decorations, their car drawn by deer? hear ye their clamour? listen! 'tis the noise of the whip they hold in their hands, the sound that stirs up courage in the battle." this is an ordinary example of the diversities of vedic translation. it is sufficiently puzzling, nor is the matter made more transparent by the variety of opinion as to the meaning of the "deer" along with which the maruts are said (by some of the translators) to have been born. this is just the sort of passage on which a controversy affecting the whole nature of vedic mythological ideas might be raised. according to a text in the yajur veda, gods, and men, and beasts, and other matters were created from various portions of the frame of a divine being named prajapati.( ) the god agni, brahmans and the goat were born from the mouth of prajapati. from his breast and arms came the god indra (sometimes spoken of as a ram), the sheep, and of men the rajanya. cows and gods called visvadevas were born together from his middle. are we to understand the words "they who were born together with the spotted deer" to refer to a myth of this kind--a myth representing the maruts and deer as having been born at the same birth, as agni came with the goat, and indra with the sheep? this is just the point on which the indian commentators were divided.( ) sayana, the old commentator, says, "the legendary school takes them for deer with white spots; the etymological school, for the many-coloured lines of clouds". the modern legendary (or anthropological) and etymological (or philological) students of mythology are often as much at variance in their attempts to interpret the traditions of india. ( ) muir, sanskrit texts, nd edit., i. . ( ) max muller, rig-veda sanhita, trans., vol. i. p. . another famous, and almost comic, example of the difficulty of vedic interpretation is well known. in rig-veda, x. , , there is a funeral hymn. agni, the fire-god, is supplicated either to roast a goat or to warm the soul of the dead and convey it to paradise. whether the soul is to be thus comforted or the goat is to be grilled, is a question that has mightily puzzled vedic doctors.( ) professor muller and m. langlois are all for "the immortal soul", the goat has advocates, or had advocates, in aufrecht, ludwig and roth. more important difficulties of interpretation are illustrated by the attitude of m. bergaigne in la religion vedique, and his controversy with the great german lexicographers. the study of mythology at one time made the vedas its starting-point. but perhaps it would be wise to begin from something more intelligible, something less perplexed by difficulties of language and diversities of interpretation. ( ) muir, v. . in attempting to criticise the various aryan myths, we shall be guided, on the whole, by the character of the myths themselves. pure and elevated conceptions we shall be inclined to assign to a pure and elevated condition of thought (though such conceptions do, recognisably, occur in the lowest known religious strata), and we shall make no difficulty about believing that rishis and singers capable of noble conceptions existed in an age very remote in time, in a society which had many of the features of a lofty and simple civilisation. but we shall not, therefore, assume that the hymns of these rishis are in any sense "primitive," or throw much light on the infancy of the human mind, or on the "origin" of religious and heroic myths. impure, childish and barbaric conceptions, on the other hand, we shall be inclined to attribute to an impure, childish, and barbaric condition of thought; and we shall again make no difficulty about believing that ideas originally conceived when that stage of thought was general have been retained and handed down to a far later period. this view of the possible, or rather probable, antiquity of many of the myths preserved in the brahmanas is strengthened, if it needed strengthening, by the opinion of dr. weber.( ) "we must indeed assume generally with regard to many of those legends (in the brahmanas of the rig-veda) that they had already gained a rounded independent shape in tradition before they were incorporated into the brahmanas; and of this we have frequent evidence in the distinctly archaic character of their language, compared with that of the rest of the text." ( ) history of indian literature, english trans., p. . we have now briefly stated the nature and probable relative antiquity of the evidence which is at the disposal of vedic mythologists. the chief lesson we would enforce is the necessity of suspending the judgment when the vedas are represented as examples of primitive and comparatively pure and simple natural religion. they are not primitive; they are highly differentiated, highly complex, extremely enigmatic expressions of fairly advanced and very peculiar religious thought. they are not morally so very pure as has been maintained, and their purity, such as it is, seems the result of conscious reticence and wary selection rather than of primeval innocence. yet the bards or editors have by no means wholly excluded very ancient myths of a thoroughly savage character. these will be chiefly exposed in the chapter on "indo-aryan myths of the beginnings of things," which follows. chapter viii. indian myths of the origin of the world and of man. comparison of vedic and savage myths--the metaphysical vedic account of the beginning of things--opposite and savage fable of world made out of fragments of a man--discussion of this hymn--absurdities of brahmanas--prajapati, a vedic unkulunkulu or qat--evolutionary myths--marriage of heaven and earth--myths of puranas, their savage parallels--most savage myths are repeated in brahmanas. in discussing the savage myths of the origin of the world and of man, we observed that they were as inconsistent as they were fanciful. among the fancies embodied in the myths was noted the theory that the world, or various parts of it, had been formed out of the body of some huge non-natural being, a god, or giant, or a member of some ancient mysterious race. we also noted the myths of the original union of heaven and earth, and their violent separation as displayed in the tales of greeks and maoris, to which may be added the acagchemem nation in california.( ) another feature of savage cosmogonies, illustrated especially in some early slavonic myths, in australian legends, and in the faith of the american races, was the creation of the world, or the recovery of a drowned world by animals, as the raven, the dove and the coyote. the hatching of all things out of an egg was another rude conception, chiefly noted among the finns. the indian form occurs in the satapatha brahmana.( ) the preservation of the human race in the deluge, or the creation of the race after the deluge, was yet another detail of savage mythology; and for many of these fancies we seemed to find a satisfactory origin in the exceedingly credulous and confused state of savage philosophy and savage imagination. ( ) bancroft, v. . ( ) sacred books of the east, i. . the question now to be asked is, do the traditions of the aryans of india supply us with myths so closely resembling the myths of nootkas, maoris and australians that we may provisionally explain them as stories originally due to the invention of savages? this question may be answered in the affirmative. the vedas, the epics and the puranas contain a large store of various cosmogonic traditions as inconsistent as the parallel myths of savages. we have an aryan ilmarinen, tvashtri, who, like the finnish smith, forged "the iron vault of hollow heaven" and the ball of earth.( ) again, the earth is said to have sprung, as in some mangaian fables, "from a being called uttanapad".( ) again, brahmanaspati, "blew the gods forth like a blacksmith," and the gods had a hand in the making of things. in contrast with these childish pieces of anthropomorphism, we have the famous and sublime speculations of an often-quoted hymn.( ) it is thus that the poet dreams of the days before being and non-being began:-- ( ) muir, v. . ( ) rig-veda, x. , . ( ) ibid., x. . "there was then neither non-entity nor entity; there was no atmosphere nor sky above. what enveloped (all)?... was it water, the profound abyss? death was not then, nor immortality: there was no distinction of day or night. that one breathed calmly, self-supported; then was nothing different from it, or above it. in the beginning darkness existed, enveloped in darkness. all this was undistinguishable water. that one which lay void and wrapped in nothingness was developed by the power of fervour. desire first arose in it, which was the primal germ of mind (and which) sages, searching with their intellect, have discovered to be the bond which connects entity with non-entity. the ray (or cord) which stretched across these (worlds), was it below or was it above? there were there impregnating powers and mighty forces, a self-supporting principle beneath and energy aloft. who knows? who here can declare whence has sprung, whence this creation? the gods are subsequent to the development of this (universe); who then knows whence it arose? from what this creation arose, and whether (any one) made it or not, he who in the highest heaven is its ruler, he verily knows, or (even) he does not know."( ) ( ) muir, sanskrit texts, nd edit., v. . here there is a vedic hymn of the origin of things, from a book, it is true, supposed to be late, which is almost, if not absolutely, free from mythological ideas. the "self-supporting principle beneath and energy aloft" may refer, as dr. muir suggests, to the father, heaven above, and the mother, earth beneath. the "bond between entity and non-entity" is sought in a favourite idea of the indian philosophers, that of tapas or "fervour". the other speculations remind us, though they are much more restrained and temperate in character, of the metaphysical chants of the new zealand priests, of the zunis, of popol vuh, and so on. these belong to very early culture. what is the relative age of this hymn? if it could be proved to be the oldest in the veda, it would demonstrate no more than this, that in time exceedingly remote the aryans of india possessed a philosopher, perhaps a school of philosophers, who applied the minds to abstract speculations on the origin of things. it could not prove that mythological speculations had not preceded the attempts of a purer philosophy. but the date cannot be ascertained. mr. max muller cannot go farther than the suggestion that the hymn is an expression of the perennis quaedam philosophia of leibnitz. we are also warned that a hymn is not necessarily modern because it is philosophical.( ) certainly that is true; the zunis, maoris, and mangaians exhibit amazing powers of abstract thought. we are not concerned to show that this hymn is late; but it seems almost superfluous to remark that ideas like those which it contains can scarcely be accepted as expressing man's earliest theory of the origin of all things. we turn from such ideas to those which the aryans of india have in common with black men and red men, with far-off finns and scandinavians, chaldaeans, haidahs, cherokees, murri and maori, mangaians and egyptians. ( ) history of sanskrit literature, p. . the next vedic account of creation which we propose to consider is as remote as possible in character from the sublime philosophic poem. in the purusha sukta, the ninetieth hymn of the tenth book of the rig-veda sanhita, we have a description of the creation of all things out of the severed limbs of a magnified non-natural man, purusha. this conception is of course that which occurs in the norse myths of the rent body of ymir. borr's sons took the body of the giant ymir and of his flesh formed the earth, of his blood seas and waters, of his bones mountains, of his teeth rocks and stones, of his hair all manner of plants, of his skull the firmament, of his brains the clouds, and so forth. in chaldean story, bel cuts in twain the magnified non-natural woman omorca, and converts the halves of her body into heaven and earth. among the iroquois in north america, chokanipok was the giant whose limbs, bones and blood furnished the raw material of many natural objects; while in mangaia portions of ru, in egypt of set and osiris, in greece of dionysus zagreus were used in creating various things, such as stones, plants and metals. the same ideas precisely are found in the ninetieth hymn of the tenth book of the rig-veda. yet it is a singular thing that, in all the discussions as to the antiquity and significance of this hymn which have come under our notice, there has not been one single reference made to parallel legends among aryan or non-aryan peoples. in accordance with the general principles which guide us in this work, we are inclined to regard any ideas which are at once rude in character and widely distributed, both among civilised and uncivilised races, as extremely old, whatever may be the age of the literary form in which they are presented. but the current of learned opinions as to the date of the purusha sukta, the vedic hymn about the sacrifice of purusha and the creation of the world out of fragments of his body, runs in the opposite direction. the hymn is not regarded as very ancient by most sanskrit scholars. we shall now quote the hymn, which contains the data on which any theory as to its age must be founded:--( ) ( ) rig-veda, x. ; muir, sanskrit texts, nd edit., i. . "purusha has a thousand heads, a thousand eyes, a thousand feet. on every side enveloping the earth, he overpassed (it) by a space of ten fingers. purusha himself is this whole (universe), whatever is and whatever shall be.... when the gods performed a sacrifice with purusha as the oblation, the spring was its butter, the summer its fuel, and the autumn its (accompanying) offering. this victim, purusha, born in the beginning, they immolated on the sacrificial grass. with him the gods, the sadhyas, and the rishis sacrificed. from that universal sacrifice were provided curds and butter. it formed those aerial (creatures) and animals both wild and tame. from that universal sacrifice sprang the ric and saman verses, the metres and yajush. from it sprang horses, and all animals with two rows of teeth; kine sprang from it; from it goats and sheep. when (the gods) divided purusha, into how many parts did they cut him up? what was his mouth? what arms (had he)? what (two objects) are said (to have been) his thighs and feet? the brahman was his mouth; the rajanya was made his arms; the being (called) the vaisya, he was his thighs; the sudra sprang from his feet. the moon sprang from his soul (mahas), the sun from his eye, indra and agni from his mouth, and yaiyu from his breath. from his navel arose the air, from his head the sky, from his feet the earth, from his ear the (four) quarters; in this manner (the gods) formed the world. when the gods, performing sacrifice, bound purusha as a victim, there were seven sticks (stuck up) for it (around the fire), and thrice seven pieces of fuel were made. with sacrifice the gods performed the sacrifice. these were the earliest rites. these great powers have sought the sky, where are the former sadhyas, gods." the myth here stated is plain enough in its essential facts. the gods performed a sacrifice with a gigantic anthropomorphic being (purusha = man) as the victim. sacrifice is not found, as a rule, in the religious of the most backward races of all; it is, relatively, an innovation, as shall be shown later. his head, like the head of ymir, formed the sky, his eye the sun, animals sprang from his body. the four castes are connected with, and it appears to be implied that they sprang from, his mouth, arms, thighs and feet. it is obvious that this last part of the myth is subsequent to the formation of castes. this is one of the chief arguments for the late date of the hymn, as castes are not distinctly recognised elsewhere in the rig-veda. mr. max muller( ) believes the hymn to be "modern both in its character and in its diction," and this opinion he supports by philological arguments. dr. muir( ) says that the hymn "has every character of modernness both in its diction and ideas". dr haug, on the other hand,( ) in a paper read in , admits that the present form of the hymn is not older than the greater part of the hymns of the tenth book, and than those of the atharva veda; but he adds, "the ideas which the hymn contains are certainly of a primeval antiquity.... in fact, the hymn is found in the yajur-veda among the formulas connected with human sacrifices, which were formerly practised in india." we have expressly declined to speak about "primeval antiquity," as we have scarcely any evidence as to the myths and mental condition for example, even of palaeolithic man; but we may so far agree with dr. haug as to affirm that the fundamental idea of the purusha sukta, namely, the creation of the world or portions of the world out of the fragments of a fabulous anthropomorphic being is common to chaldeans, iroquois, egyptians, greeks, tinnehs, mangaians and aryan indians. this is presumptive proof of the antiquity of the ideas which dr. muir and mr. max muller think relatively modern. the savage and brutal character of the invention needs no demonstration. among very low savages, for example, the tinnehs of british north america, not a man, not a god, but a dog, is torn up, and the fragments are made into animals.( ) on the paloure river a beaver suffers in the manner of purusha. we may, for these reasons, regard the chief idea of the myth as extremely ancient--infinitely more ancient than the diction of the hymn. ( ) ancient sanskrit literature, . ( ) sanskrit texts, nd edit., i. . ( ) sanskrit text, nd edit., ii. . ( ) hearne's journey, pp. - . as to the mention of the castes, supposed to be a comparatively modern institution, that is not an essential part of the legend. when the idea of creation out of a living being was once received it was easy to extend the conception to any institution, of which the origin was forgotten. the teutonic race had a myth which explained the origin of the classes eorl, ceorl and thrall (earl, churl and slave). a south american people, to explain the different ranks in society, hit on the very myth of plato, the legend of golden, silver and copper races, from which the ranks of society have descended. the vedic poet, in our opinion, merely extended to the institution of caste a myth which had already explained the origin of the sun, the firmament, animals, and so forth, on the usual lines of savage thought. the purusha sukta is the type of many other indian myths of creation, of which the following( ) one is extremely noteworthy. "prajapati desired to propagate. he formed the trivrit (stoma) from his mouth. after it were produced the deity agni, the metre gayatri,... of men the brahman, of beasts the goat;... from his breast, and from his arms he formed the panchadasa (stoma). after it were created the god indra, the trishtubh metre,... of men the rajanya, of beasts the sheep. hence they are vigorous, because they were created from vigour. from his middle he formed the saptadasa (stoma). after it were created the gods called the yisvadevas, the jagati metre,... of men the vaisya, of beasts kine. hence they are to be eaten, because they were created from the receptacle of food." the form in which we receive this myth is obviously later than the institution of caste and the technical names for metres. yet surely any statement that kine "are to be eaten" must be older than the universal prohibition to eat that sacred animal the cow. possibly we might argue that when this theory of creation was first promulgated, goats and sheep were forbidden food.( ) ( ) taittirya sanhita, or yajur-veda, vii. i. - ; muir, nd edit., i. . ( ) mr. m'lennan has drawn some singular inferences from this passage, connecting, as it does, certain gods and certain classes of men with certain animals, in a manner somewhat suggestive of totemism (fornightly review), february, . turning from the vedas to the brahmanas, we find a curiously savage myth of the origin of species.( ) according to this passage of the brahmana, "this universe was formerly soul only, in the form of purusha". he caused himself to fall asunder into two parts. thence arose a husband and a wife. "he cohabited with her; from them men were born. she reflected, 'how does he, after having produced me from himself, cohabit with me? ah, let me disappear.' she became a cow, and the other a bull, and he cohabited with her. from them kine were produced." after a series of similar metamorphoses of the female into all animal shapes, and a similar series of pursuits by the male in appropriate form, "in this manner pairs of all sorts of creatures down to ants were created". this myth is a parallel to the various greek legends about the amours in bestial form of zeus, nemesis, cronus, demeter and other gods and goddesses. in the brahmanas this myth is an explanation of the origin of species, and such an explanation as could scarcely have occurred to a civilised mind. in other myths in the brahmanas, prajapati creates men from his body, or rather the fluid of his body becomes a tortoise, the tortoise becomes a man (purusha), with similar examples of speculation.( ) ( ) satapatha brahmana, xiv. , ; muir, nd edit., i. . ( ) similar tales are found among the khonds. among all these brahmana myths of the part taken by prajapati in the creation or evoking of things, the question arises who was prajapati? his role is that of the great hare in american myth; he is a kind of demiurge, and his name means "the master of things created," like the australian biamban, "master," and the american title of the chief manitou, "master of life",( ) dr. muir remarks that, as the vedic mind advances from mere divine beings who "reside and operate in fire" (agni), "dwell and shine in the sun" (surya), or "in the atmosphere" (indra), towards a conception of deity, "the farther step would be taken of speaking of the deity under such new names as visvakarman and prajapati". these are "appellatives which do not designate any limited functions connected with any single department of nature, but the more general and abstract notions of divine power operating in the production and government of the universe". now the interesting point is that round this new and abstract name gravitate the most savage and crudest myths, exactly the myths we meet among hottentots and nootkas. for example, among the hottentots it is heitsi eibib, among the huarochiri indians it is uiracocha, who confers, by curse or blessing, on the animals their proper attributes and characteristics.( ) in the satapatha brahmana it is prajapati who takes this part, that falls to rude culture-heroes of hottentots and huarochiris.( ) how prajapati made experiments in a kind of state-aided evolution, so to speak, or evolution superintended and assisted from above, will presently be set forth. ( ) bergaigne, iii. . ( ) avila, fables of the yncas, p. . ( ) english translation, ii. . in the puranas creation is a process renewed after each kalpa, or vast mundane period. brahma awakes from his slumber, and finds the world a waste of water. then, just as in the american myths of the coyote, and the slavonic myths of the devil and the doves, a boar or a fish or a tortoise fishes up the world out of the waters. that boar, fish, tortoise, or what not, is brahma or vishnu. this savage conception of the beginnings of creation in the act of a tortoise, fish, or boar is not first found in the puranas, as mr. muir points out, but is indicated in the black yajur veda and in the satapatha brahmana.( ) in the satapatha brahmana, xiv. , , , we discover the idea, so common in savage myths--for example, in that of the navajoes--that the earth was at first very small, a mere patch, and grew bigger after the animal fished it up. "formerly this earth was only so large, of the size of a span. a boar called emusha raised her up." here the boar makes no pretence of being the incarnation of a god, but is a mere boar sans phrase, like the creative coyote of the papogas and chinooks, or the musk-rat of the tacullies. this is a good example of the development of myths. savages begin, as we saw, by mythically regarding various animals, spiders, grasshoppers, ravens, eagles, cockatoos, as the creators or recoverers of the world. as civilisation advances, those animals still perform their beneficent functions, but are looked on as gods in disguise. in time the animals are often dropped altogether, though they hold their place with great tenacity in the cosmogonic traditions of the aryans in india. when we find the satapatha brahmana alleging( ) "that all creatures are descended from a tortoise," we seem to be among the rude indians of the pacific coast. but when the tortoise is identified with aditya, and when adityas prove to be solar deities, sons of aditi, and when aditi is recognised by mr. muller as the dawn, we see that the aryan mind has not been idle, but has added a good deal to the savage idea of the descent of men and beasts from a tortoise.( ) ( ) muir, nd edit., vol. i. p. . ( ) muir, nd edit., vol. i. p. . ( ) see ternaux compans' nouvelles annales des voyages, lxxxvi. p. . for mexican traditions, "mexican and australian hurricane world's end," bancroft, v. . another feature of savage myths of creation we found to be the introduction of a crude theory of evolution. we saw that among the potoyante tribe of the digger indians, and among certain australian tribes, men and beasts were supposed to have been slowly evolved and improved out of the forms first of reptiles and then of quadrupeds. in the mythologies of the more civilised south american races, the idea of the survival of the fittest was otherwise expressed. the gods made several attempts at creation, and each set of created beings proving in one way or other unsuited to its environment, was permitted to die out or degenerated into apes, and was succeeded by a set better adapted for survival.( ) in much the same way the satapatha brahmana( ) represents mammals as the last result of a series of creative experiments. "prajapati created living beings, which perished for want of food. birds and serpents perished thus. prajapati reflected, 'how is it that my creatures perish after having been formed?' he perceived this: 'they perish from want of food'. in his own presence he caused milk to be supplied to breasts. he created living beings, which, resorting to the breasts, were thus preserved. these are the creatures which did not perish." ( ) this myth is found in popol vuh. a chinook myth of the same sort, bancroft, v. . ( ) ii. , ; muir, nd edit., i. . the common myth which derives the world from a great egg--the myth perhaps most familiar in its finnish shape--is found in the satapatha brahmana.( ) "in the beginning this universe was waters, nothing but waters. the waters desired: 'how can we be reproduced?' so saying, they toiled, they performed austerity. while they were performing austerity, a golden egg came into existence. it then became a year.... from it in a year a man came into existence, who was prajapati.... he conceived progeny in himself; with his mouth he created the gods." according to another text,( ) "prajapati took the form of a tortoise". the tortoise is the same as aditya.( ) ( ) xi. , , ; muir, journal of royal asiatic society, . ( ) satapatha brahmana, vii. , , . ( ) aitareya brahmana, iii. ( , ), a very discreditable origin of species. it is now time to examine the aryan shape of the widely spread myth about the marriage of heaven and earth, and the fortunes of their children. we have already seen that in new zealand heaven and earth were regarded as real persons, of bodily parts and passions, united in a secular embrace. we shall apply the same explanation to the greek myth of gaea and of the mutilation of cronus. in india, dyaus (heaven) answers to the greek uranus and the maori rangi, while prithivi (earth) is the greek gaea, the maori papa. in the veda, heaven and earth are constantly styled "parents";( ) but this we might regard as a mere metaphorical expression, still common in poetry. a passage of the aitareya brahmana, however, retains the old conception, in which there was nothing metaphorical at all.( ) these two worlds, heaven and earth, were once joined. subsequently they were separated (according to one account, by indra, who thus plays the part of cronus and of tane mahuta). "heaven and earth," says dr. muir, "are regarded as the parents not only of men, but of the gods also, as appears from the various texts where they are designated by the epithet devapatre, 'having gods for their children'." by men in an early stage of thought this myth was accepted along with others in which heaven and earth were regarded as objects created by one of their own children, as by indra,( ) who "stretched them out like a hide," who, like atlas, "sustains and upholds them"( ) or, again, tvashtri, the divine smith, wrought them by his craft; or, once more, heaven and earth sprung from the head and feet of purusha. in short, if any one wished to give an example of that recklessness of orthodoxy or consistency which is the mark of early myth, he could find no better example than the indian legends of the origin of things. perhaps there is not one of the myths current among the lower races which has not its counterpart in the indian brahmanas. it has been enough for us to give a selection of examples. ( ) muir, v. . ( ) iv. ; haug, ii. . ( ) rig-veda, viii. , . ( ) ibid., iii. , . chapter ix. greek myths of the origin of the world and man. the greeks practically civilised when we first meet them in homer--their mythology, however, is full of repulsive features--the hypothesis that many of these are savage survivals--are there other examples of such survival in greek life and institutions?--greek opinion was constant that the race had been savage--illustrations of savage survival from greek law of homicide, from magic, religion, human sacrifice, religious art, traces of totemism, and from the mysteries--conclusion: that savage survival may also be expected in greek myths. the greeks, when we first make their acquaintance in the homeric poems, were a cultivated people, dwelling, under the government of royal families, in small city states. this social condition they must have attained by b.c., and probably much earlier. they had already a long settled past behind them, and had no recollection of any national migration from the "cradle of the aryan race". on the other hand, many tribes thought themselves earth-born from the soil of the place where they were settled. the maori traditions prove that memories of a national migration may persist for several hundred years among men ignorant of writing. greek legend, among a far more civilised race, only spoke of occasional foreign settlers from sidon, lydia, or egypt. the homeric greeks were well acquainted with almost all the arts of life, though it is not absolutely certain that they could write, and certainly they were not addicted to reading. in war they fought from chariots, like the egyptians and assyrians; they were bold seafarers, being accustomed to harry the shores even of egypt, and they had large commercial dealings with the people of tyre and sidon. in the matter of religion they were comparatively free and unrestrained. their deities, though, in myth, capricious in character, might be regarded in many ways as "making for righteousness". they protected the stranger and the suppliant; they sanctioned the oath, they frowned on the use of poisoned arrows; marriage and domestic life were guarded by their good-will; they dispensed good and evil fortune, to be accepted with humility and resignation among mortals. the patriarchal head of each family performed the sacrifices for his household, the king for the state, the ruler of mycenae, agamemnon, for the whole achaean host encamped before the walls of troy. at the same time, prophets, like calchas, possessed considerable influence, due partly to an hereditary gift of second-sight, as in the case of theoclymenus,( ) partly to acquired professional skill in observing omens, partly to the direct inspiration of the gods. the oracle at delphi, or, as it is called by homer, pytho, was already famous, and religion recognised, in various degrees, all the gods familiar to the later cult of hellas. in a people so advanced, so much in contact with foreign races and foreign ideas, and so wonderfully gifted by nature with keen intellect and perfect taste, it is natural to expect, if anywhere, a mythology almost free from repulsive elements, and almost purged of all that we regard as survivals from the condition of savagery. but while greek mythology is richer far than any other in beautiful legend, and is thronged with lovely and majestic forms of gods and goddesses, nymphs and oreads ideally fair, none the less a very large proportion of its legends is practically on a level with the myths of maoris, thlinkeets, cahrocs and bushmen. ( ) odyssey, xx. . this is the part of greek mythology which has at all times excited most curiosity, and has been made the subject of many systems of interpretation. the greeks themselves, from almost the earliest historical ages, were deeply concerned either to veil or explain away the blasphemous horrors of their own "sacred chapters," poetic traditions and temple legends. we endeavour to account for these as relics of an age of barbarism lying very far behind the time of homer--an age when the ancestors of the greeks either borrowed, or more probably developed for themselves, the kind of myths by which savage peoples endeavour to explain the nature and origin of the world and all phenomena. the correctness of this explanation, resting as it does on the belief that the greeks were at one time in the savage status, might be demonstrated from the fact that not only myths, but greek life in general, and especially greek ritual, teemed with surviving examples of institutions and of manners which are found everywhere among the most backward and barbarous races. it is not as if only the myths of greece retained this rudeness, or as if the greeks supposed themselves to have been always civilised. the whole of greek life yields relics of savagery when the surface is excavated ever so slightly. moreover, that the greeks, as soon as they came to reflect on these matters at all, believed themselves to have emerged from a condition of savagery is undeniable. the poets are entirely at one on this subject with moschion, a writer of the school of euripides. "the time hath been, yea, it hath been," he says, "when men lived like the beasts, dwelling in mountain caves, and clefts unvisited of the sun.... then they broke not the soil with ploughs nor by aid of iron, but the weaker man was slain to make the supper of the stronger," and so on.( ) this view of the savage origin of mankind was also held by aristotle:( ) "it is probable that the first men, whether they were produced by the earth (earth-born) or survived from some deluge, were on a level of ignorance and darkness".( ) this opinion, consciously held and stated by philosophers and poets, reveals itself also in the universal popular greek traditions that men were originally ignorant of fire, agriculture, metallurgy and all the other arts and conveniences of life, till they were instructed by ideal culture-heroes, like prometheus, members of a race divine or half divine. a still more curious athenian tradition (preserved by varro) maintained, not only that marriage was originally unknown, but that, as among australians and some red indians, the family name, descended through the mother, and kinship was reckoned on the female side before the time of cecrops.( ) ( ) moschion; cf. preller, ausgewahlte aufsatze, p. . ( ) politics, ii. - ; plato, laws, - . ( ) compare horace, satires, i. , ; lucretius, v. . ( ) suidas, s.v. "prometheus"; augustine, de civitate dei, xviii. . while greek opinion, both popular and philosophical, admitted, or rather asserted, that savagery lay in the background of the historical prospect, greek institutions retained a thousand birth-marks of savagery. it is manifest and undeniable that the greek criminal law, as far as it effected murder, sprang directly from the old savage blood-feud.( ) the athenian law was a civilised modification of the savage rule that the kindred of a slain man take up his blood-feud. where homicide was committed within the circle of blood relationship, as by orestes, greek religion provided the erinnyes to punish an offence which had, as it were, no human avenger. the precautions taken by murderers to lay the ghost of the slain man were much like those in favour among the australians. the greek cut off the extremities of his victim, the tips of the hands and feet, and disposed them neatly beneath the arm-pits of the slain man.( ) in the same spirit, and for the same purpose, the australian black cuts off the thumbs of his dead enemy, that the ghost too may be mutilated and prevented from throwing at him with a ghostly spear. we learn also from apollonius rhodius and his scholiast that greek murderers used thrice to suck in and spit out the gore of their victims, perhaps with some idea of thereby partaking of their blood, and so, by becoming members of their kin, putting it beyond the power of the ghosts to avenge themselves. similar ideas inspire the worldwide savage custom of making an artificial "blood brotherhood" by mingling the blood of the contracting parties. as to the ceremonies of cleansing from blood-guiltiness among the greeks, we may conjecture that these too had their primitive side; for orestes, in the eumenides, maintains that he has been purified of his mother's slaughter by sufficient blood of swine. but this point will be illustrated presently, when we touch on the mysteries. ( ) duncker, history of greece, engl. transl., vol. ii. p. . ( ) see "arm-pitting in ancient greece," in the american journal of philology, october, , where a discussion of the familiar texts in aeschylus and apollonius rhodius will be found. ritual and myth, as might be expected, retained vast masses of savage rites and superstitious habits and customs. to be "in all things too superstitious," too full of deisidaimonia, was even in st. paul's time the characteristic of the athenians. now superstition, or deisidaimonia, is defined by theophrastus,( ) as "cowardice in regard to the supernatural" ((greek text omitted)). this "cowardice" has in all ages and countries secured the permanence of ritual and religious traditions. men have always argued, like one of the persons in m. renan's play, le pretre de nemi, that "l'ordre du monde depend de l'ordre des rites qu'on observe". the familiar endurable sequence of the seasons of spring, and seed-sowing, and harvest depend upon the due performance of immemorial religious acts. "in the mystic deposits," says dinarchus, "lies the safety of the city."( ) what the "mystic deposits" were nobody knows for certain, but they must have been of very archaic sanctity, and occur among the arunta and the pawnees. ( ) characters. ( ) ap. hermann, lehrbuch, p. ; aglaophamus, . ritual is preserved because it preserves luck. not only among the romans and the brahmans, with their endless minute ritual actions, but among such lower races as the kanekas of new caledonia, the efficacy of religious functions is destroyed by the slightest accidental infraction of established rules.( ) the same timid conservatism presides over myth, and in each locality the mystery-plays, with their accompanying narratives, preserved inviolate the early forms of legend. myth and ritual do not admit of being argued about. "c'etait le rite etabli. ce n'etait pas plus absurde qu'autre chose," says the conservative in m. renan's piece, defending the mode of appointment of the priest who slew the slayer, and shall himself be slain. ( ) thus the watchers of the dead in new caledonia are fed by the sorcerer with a mess at the end of a very long spoon, and should the food miss the mouth, all the ceremonies have to be repeated. this detail is from mr. j. j. atkinson. now, if the rites and myths preserved by the timorousness of this same "cowardice towards the supernatural" were originally evolved in the stage of savagery, savage they would remain, as it is impious and dangerous to reform them till the religion which they serve perishes with them. these relics in greek ritual and faith are very commonly explained as due to oriental influences, as things borrowed from the dark and bloody superstitions of asia. but this attempt to save the native greek character for "blitheness" and humanity must not be pushed too far.( ) it must be remembered that the cruder and wilder sacrifices and legends of greece were strictly local; that they were attached to these ancient temples, old altars, barbarous xoana, or wooden idols, and rough fetish stones, in which pausanias found the most ancient relics of hellenic theology. this is a proof of their antiquity and a presumption in favour of their freedom from foreign influence. most of these things were survivals from that dimly remembered prehistoric age in which the greeks, not yet gathered into city states, lived in villages or kraals, or pueblos, as we should translate (greek text omitted), if we were speaking of african or american tribes. in that stage the early greeks must have lacked both the civic and the national or panhellenic sentiment; their political unit was the clan, which, again, answered in part to the totem kindred of america, or africa, or australia.( ) in this stagnant condition they could not have made acquaintance with the many creeds of semitic and other alien peoples on the shores of the levant.( ) it was later, when greece had developed the city life of the heroic age, that her adventurous sons came into close contact with egypt and phoenicia. ( ) claus, de antiq. form. dianae, , , . ( ) as c. o. muller judiciously remarks: "the scenes of nine-tenths of the greek myths are laid in particular districts of greece, and they speak of the primeval inhabitants, of the lineage and adventures of native heroes. they manifest an accurate acquaintance with individual localities, which, at a time when greece was neither explored by antiquaries, nor did geographical handbooks exist, could be possessed only by the inhabitants of these localities." muller gives, as examples, myths of bears more or less divine. scientific mythology, pp. , . ( ) compare claus, de dianae antiquissima natura, p. . in the colonising time, still later--perhaps from b.c. downwards--the greeks, settled on sites whence they had expelled sidonians or sicanians, very naturally continued, with modifications, the worship of such gods as they found already in possession. like the romans, the greeks easily recognised their own deities in the analogous members of foreign polytheistic systems. thus we can allow for alien elements in such gods and goddesses as zeus asterios, as aphrodite of cyprus or eryx, or the many-breasted ephesian artemis, whose monstrous form had its exact analogue among the aztecs in that many-breasted goddess of the maguey plant whence beer was made. to discern and disengage the borrowed factors in the hellenic olympus by analysis of divine names is a task to which comparative philology may lawfully devote herself; but we cannot so readily explain by presumed borrowing from without the rude xoana of the ancient local temples, the wild myths of the local legends, the sacra which were the exclusive property of old-world families, butadae or eumolpidae. these are clearly survivals from a stage of greek culture earlier than the city state, earlier than the heroic age of the roving greek vikings, and far earlier than the greek colonies. they belong to that conservative and immobile period when the tribe or clan, settled in its scattered kraals, lived a life of agriculture, hunting and cattle-breeding, engaged in no larger or more adventurous wars than border feuds about women or cattle. such wars were on a humbler scale than even nestor's old fights with the epeians; such adventures did not bring the tribe into contact with alien religions. if sidonian merchantmen chanced to establish a factory near a tribe in this condition, their religion was not likely to make many proselytes. these reasons for believing that most of the wilder element in greek ritual and myth was native may be briefly recapitulated, as they are often overlooked. the more strange and savage features meet us in local tales and practices, often in remote upland temples and chapels. there they had survived from the society of the village status, before villages were gathered into cities, before greeks had taken to a roving life, or made much acquaintance with distant and maritime peoples. for these historical reasons, it may be assumed that the local religious antiquities of greece, especially in upland districts like arcadia and elis, are as old, and as purely national, as free from foreign influences as any greek institutions can be. in these rites and myths of true folk-lore and volksleben, developed before hellas won its way to the pure hellenic stage, before egypt and phoenicia were familiar, should be found that common rude element which greeks share with the other races of the world, and which was, to some extent, purged away by the genius of homer and pindar, pii vates et phaebo digna locuti. in proof of this local conservatism, some passages collected by k. f. hermann in his lehrbuch der griechischen antiquitaten( ) may be cited. thus isocrates writes,( ) "this was all their care, neither to destroy any of the ancestral rites, nor to add aught beyond what was ordained". clemens alexandrinus reports that certain thessalians worshipped storks, "in accordance with use and wont".( ) plato lays down the very "law of least change" which has been described. "whether the legislator is establishing a new state or restoring an old and decayed one, in respect of gods and temples,... if he be a man of sense, he will make no change in anything which the oracle of delphi, or dodona, or ammon has sanctioned, in whatever manner." in this very passage plato( ) speaks of rites "derived from tyrrhenia or cyprus" as falling within the later period of the greek wanderjahre. on the high religious value of things antique, porphyry wrote in a late age, and when the new religion of christ was victorious, "comparing the new sacred images with the old, we see that the old are more simply fashioned, yet are held divine, but the new, admired for their elaborate execution, have less persuasion of divinity,"--a remark anticipated by pausanias, "the statues daedalus wrought are quainter to the outward view, yet there shows forth in them somewhat supernatural".( ) so athenaeus( ) reports of a visitor to the shrine of leto in delos, that he expected the ancient statue of the mother of apollo to be something remarkable, but, unlike the pious porphyry, burst out laughing when he found it a shapeless wooden idol. these idols were dressed out, fed and adorned as if they had life.( ) it is natural that myths dating from an age when greek gods resembled polynesian idols should be as rude as polynesian myths. the tenacity of local myth is demonstrated by pausanias, who declares that even in the highly civilised attica the demes retained legends different from those of the central city--the legends, probably, which were current before the villages were "synoecised" into athens.( ) ( ) zweiter theil, . ( ) areop., . ( ) clem. alex., oxford, , i. . ( ) laws, v. . ( ) de. abst., ii. ; paus., ii. , . ( ) xiv. . ( ) hermann, op. cit., p. , note . ( ) pausanias, i. , . it appears, then, that greek ritual necessarily preserves matter of the highest antiquity, and that the oldest rites and myths will probably be found, not in the panhellenic temples, like that in olympia, not in the national poets, like homer and sophocles, but in the local fanes of early tribal gods, and in the local mysteries, and the myths which came late, if they came at all, into literary circulation. this opinion is strengthened and illustrated by that invaluable guide-book of the artistic and religious pilgrim written in the second century after our era by pausanias. if we follow him, we shall find that many of the ceremonies, stories and idols which he regarded as oldest are analogous to the idols and myths of the contemporary backward races. let us then, for the sake of illustrating the local and savage survivals in greek religion, accompany pausanias in his tour through hellas. in christian countries, especially in modern times, the contents of one church are very like the furniture of another church; the functions in one resemble those in all, though on the continent some shrines still retain relics and customs of the period when local saints had their peculiar rites. but it was a very different thing in greece. the pilgrim who arrived at a temple never could guess what oddity or horror in the way of statues, sacrifices, or stories might be prepared for his edification. in the first place, there were human sacrifices. these are not familiar to low savages, if known to them at all. probably they were first offered to barbaric royal ghosts, and thence transferred to gods. in the town of salamis, in cyprus, about the date of hadrian, the devout might have found the priest slaying a human victim to zeus,--an interesting custom, instituted, according to lactantius, by teucer, and continued till the age of the roman empire.( ) ( ) euseb., praep. ev., iv. , mentions, among peoples practising human sacrifices, rhodes, salamis, heliopolis, chios, tenedos, lacedaemon, arcadia and athens; and, among gods thus honoured, hera, athene, cronus, ares, dionysus, zeus and apollo. for dionysus the cannibal, plutarch, themist., ; porphyr., abst., ii. . for the sacrifice to zeus laphystius, see grote, i. c. vi., and his array of authorities, especially herodotus, vii. . clemens alexandrinus (i. ) mentions the messenians, to zeus; the taurians, to artemis, the folk of pella, to peleus and chiron; the cretans, to zeus; the lesbians, to dionysus. geusius de victimis humanis ( ) may be consulted. at alos in achaia phthiotis, the stranger might have seen an extraordinary spectacle, though we admit that the odds would have been highly against his chance of witnessing the following events. as the stranger approaches the town-hall, he observes an elderly and most respectable citizen strolling in the same direction. the citizen is so lost in thought that apparently he does not notice where he is going. behind him comes a crowd of excited but silent people, who watch him with intense interest. the citizen reaches the steps of the town-hall, while the excitement of his friends behind increases visibly. without thinking, the elderly person enters the building. with a wild and un-aryan howl, the other people of alos are down on him, pinion him, wreathe him with flowery garlands, and, lead him to the temple of zeus laphystius, or "the glutton," where he is solemnly sacrificed on the altar. this was the custom of the good greeks of alos whenever a descendant of the house of athamas entered the prytaneion. of course the family were very careful, as a rule, to keep at a safe distance from the forbidden place. "what a sacrifice for greeks!" as the author of the minos( ) says in that dialogue which is incorrectly attributed to plato. "he cannot get out except to be sacrificed," says herodotus, speaking of the unlucky descendant of athamas. the custom appears to have existed as late as the time of the scholiast on apollonius rhodius.( ) ( ) , c.; plato, laws, vi. , c. ( ) argonautica, vii. . even in the second century, when pausanias visited arcadia, he found what seem to have been human sacrifices to zeus. the passage is so very strange and romantic that we quote a part of it.( ) "the lycaean hill hath other marvels to show, and chiefly this: thereon there is a grove of zeus lycaeus, wherein may men in nowise enter; but if any transgresses the law and goes within, he must die within the space of one year. this tale, moreover, they tell, namely, that whatsoever man or beast cometh within the grove casts no shadow, and the hunter pursues not the deer into that wood, but, waiting till the beast comes forth again, sees that it has left its shadow behind. and on the highest crest of the whole mountain there is a mound of heaped-up earth, the altar of zeus lycaeus, and the more part of peloponnesus can be seen from that place. and before the altar stand two pillars facing the rising sun, and thereon golden eagles of yet more ancient workmanship. and on this altar they sacrifice to zeus in a manner that may not be spoken, and little liking had i to make much search into this matter. but let it be as it is, and as it hath been from the beginning." the words "as it hath been from the beginning" are ominous and significant, for the traditional myths of arcadia tell of the human sacrifices of lycaon, and of men who, tasting the meat of a mixed sacrifice, put human flesh between their lips unawares.( ) this aspect of greek religion, then, is almost on a level with the mysterious cannibal horrors of "voodoo," as practised by the secret societies of negroes in hayti. but concerning these things, as pausanias might say, it is little pleasure to inquire. ( ) pausanias, viii. . ( ) plato, rep., viii. , d. this rite occurs in some african coronation ceremonies. even where men were not sacrificed to the gods, the tourist among the temples would learn that these bloody rites had once been customary, and ceremonies existed by way of commutation. this is precisely what we find in vedic religion, in which the empty form of sacrificing a man was gone through, and the origin of the world was traced to the fragments of a god sacrificed by gods.( ) in sparta was an altar of artemis orthia, and a wooden image of great rudeness and antiquity--so rude indeed, that pausanias, though accustomed to greek fetish-stones, thought it must be of barbaric origin. the story was that certain people of different towns, when sacrificing at the altar, were seized with frenzy and slew each other. the oracle commanded that the altar should be sprinkled with human blood. men were therefore chosen by lot to be sacrificed till lycurgus commuted the offering, and sprinkled the altar with the blood of boys who were flogged before the goddess. the priestess holds the statue of the goddess during the flogging, and if any of the boys are but lightly scourged, the image becomes too heavy for her to bear. ( ) the purusha sukhta, in rig-veda, x. . the ionians near anthea had a temple of artemis triclaria, and to her it had been customary to sacrifice yearly a youth and maiden of transcendent beauty. in pausanias's time the human sacrifice was commuted. he himself beheld the strange spectacle of living beasts and birds being driven into the fire to artemis laphria, a calydonian goddess, and he had seen bears rush back among the ministrants; but there was no record that any one had ever been hurt by these wild beasts.( ) the bear was a beast closely connected with artemis, and there is some reason to suppose that the goddess had herself been a she-bear or succeeded to the cult of a she-bear in the morning of time.( ) ( ) paus., vii. , . ( ) see "artemis", postea. it may be believed that where symbolic human sacrifices are offered, that is, where some other victim is slain or a dummy of a man is destroyed, and where legend maintains that the sacrifice was once human, there men and women were originally the victims. greek ritual and greek myth were full of such tales and such commutations.( ) in rome, as is well known, effigies of men called argives were sacrificed.( ) as an example of a beast-victim given in commutation, pausanias mentions( ) the case of the folk of potniae, who were compelled once a year to offer to dionysus a boy, in the bloom of youth. but the sacrifice was commuted for a goat. ( ) see hermann, alterthumer., ii. - , for abundant examples. ( ) plutarch, quest. rom. . ( ) ix. , . these commutations are familiar all over the world. even in mexico, where human sacrifices and ritual cannibalism were daily events, quetzalcoatl was credited with commuting human sacrifices for blood drawn from the bodies of the religious. in this one matter even the most conservative creeds and the faiths most opposed to change sometimes say with tartuffe:-- le ciel defend, de vrai, certains contentements, mais on trouve avec lui des accommodements. though the fact has been denied (doubtless without reflection), the fact remains that the greeks offered human sacrifices. now what does this imply? must it be taken as a survival from barbarism, as one of the proofs that the greeks had passed through the barbaric status? the answer is less obvious than might be supposed. sacrifice has two origins. first, there are honorific sacrifices, in which the ghost or god (or divine beast, if a divine beast be worshipped) is offered the food he is believed to prefer. this does not occur among the lowest savages. to carnivorous totems, garcilasso says, the indians of peru offered themselves. the feeding of sacred mice in the temples of apollo smintheus is well known. secondly, there are expiatory or piacular sacrifices, in which the worshipper, as it were, fines himself in a child, an ox, or something else that he treasures. the latter kind of sacrifice (most common in cases of crime done or suspected within the circle of kindred) is not necessarily barbaric, except in its cruelty. an example is the attic thargelia, in which two human scape-goats annually bore "the sins of the congregation," and were flogged, driven to the sea with figs tied round their necks, and burned.( ) ( ) compare the marseilles human sacrifice, petron., ; and for the thargelia, tsetzes, chiliads, v. ; hellad. in photius, p. f. and harpoc. s. v. the institution of human sacrifice, then, whether the offering be regarded as food, or as a gift to the god of what is dearest to man (as in the case of jephtha's daughter), or whether the victim be supposed to carry on his head the sins of the people, does not necessarily date from the period of savagery. indeed, sacrifice flourishes most, not among savages, but among advancing barbarians. it would probably be impossible to find any examples of human sacrifices of an expiatory or piacular character, any sacrifices at all, among australians, or andamanese, or fuegians. the notion of presenting food to the supernatural powers, whether ghosts or gods, is relatively rare among savages.( ) the terrible aztec banquets of which the gods were partakers are the most noted examples of human sacrifices with a purely cannibal origin. now there is good reason to guess that human sacrifices with no other origin than cannibalism survived even in ancient greece. "it may be conjectured," writes professor robertson smith,( ) "that the human sacrifices offered to the wolf zeus (lycaeus) in arcadia were originally cannibal feasts of a wolf tribe. the first participants in the rite were, according to later legend, changed into wolves; and in later times( ) at least one fragment of the human flesh was placed among the sacrificial portions derived from other victims, and the man who ate it was believed to become a were-wolf."( ) it is the almost universal rule with cannibals not to eat members of their own stock, just as they do not eat their own totem. thus, as professor robertson smith says, when the human victim is a captive or other foreigner, the human sacrifice may be regarded as a survival of cannibalism. where, on the other hand, the victim is a fellow tribesman, the sacrifice is expiatory or piacular. ( ) jevons, introduction to the science of religion, pp. , . ( ) encyc. brit., s. v. "sacrifice". ( ) plato, rep., viii. , d. ( ) paus., viii. . among greek cannibal gods we cannot fail to reckon the so-called "cannibal dionysus," and probably the zeus of orchomenos, zeus laphystius, who is explained by suidas as "the glutton zeus". the cognate verb ((greek text omitted)) means "to eat with mangling and rending," "to devour gluttonously". by zeus laphystius, then, men's flesh was gorged in this distressing fashion. the evidence of human sacrifice (especially when it seems not piacular, but a relic of cannibalism) raises a presumption that greeks had once been barbarians. the presumption is confirmed by the evidence of early greek religious art. when his curiosity about human sacrifices was satisfied, the pilgrim in greece might turn his attention to the statues and other representations of the gods. he would find that the modern statues by famous artists were beautiful anthropomorphic works in marble or in gold and ivory. it is true that the faces of the ancient gilded dionysi at corinth were smudged all over with cinnabar, like fetish-stones in india or africa.( ) as a rule, however, the statues of historic times were beautiful representations of kindly and gracious beings. the older works were stiff and rigid images, with the lips screwed into an unmeaning smile. older yet were the bronze gods, made before the art of soldering was invented, and formed of beaten plates joined by small nails. still more ancient were the wooden images, which probably bore but a slight resemblance to the human frame, and which were often mere "stocks".( ) perhaps once a year were shown the very early gods, the demeter with the horse's head, the artemis with the fish's tails, the cuckoo hera, whose image was of pear-wood, the zeus with three eyes, the hermes, made after the fashion of the pictures on the walls of sacred caves among the bushmen. but the oldest gods of all, says pausanias repeatedly, were rude stones in the temple or the temple precinct. in achaean pharae he found some thirty squared stones, named each after a god. "among all the greeks in the oldest times rude stones were worshipped in place of statues." the superstitious man in theophrastus's characters used to anoint the sacred stones with oil. the stone which cronus swallowed in mistake for zeus was honoured at delphi, and kept warm with wool wrappings. there was another sacred stone among the troezenians, and the megarians worshipped as apollo a stone cut roughly into a pyramidal form. the argives had a big stone called zeus kappotas. the thespians worshipped a stone which they called eros; "their oldest idol is a rude stone".( ) it is well known that the original fetish-stone has been found in situ below the feet of the statue of apollo in delos. on this showing, then, the religion of very early greeks in greece was not unlike that of modern negroes. the artistic evolution of the gods, a remarkably rapid one after a certain point, could be traced in every temple. it began with the rude stone, and rose to the wooden idol, in which, as we have seen, pausanias and porphyry found such sanctity. next it reached the hammered bronze image, passed through the archaic marbles, and culminated in the finer marbles and the chryselephantine statues of zeus and athena. but none of the ancient sacred objects lost their sacredness. the oldest were always the holiest idols; the oldest of all were stumps and stones, like savage fetish-stones. ( ) pausanias, ii. . ( ) clemens alex., protrept. (oxford, ). p. . ( ) gill, myths of south pacific, p. . compare a god, which proved to be merely pumice-stone, and was regarded as the god of winds and waves, having been drifted to puka-puka. offerings of food were made to it during hurricanes. another argument in favour of the general thesis that savagery left deep marks on greek life in general, and on myth in particular, may be derived from survivals of totemism in ritual and legend. the following instances need not necessarily be accepted, but it may be admitted that they are precisely the traces which totemism would leave had it once existed, and then waned away on the advance of civilisation.( ) ( ) the argument to be derived from the character of the greek (greek text omitted) as a modified form of the totem-kindred is too long and complex to be put forward here. it is stated in custom and myth, "the history of the family," in m'lennan's studies in early history, and is assumed, if not proved, in ancient society by the late mr. lewis morgan. that greeks in certain districts regarded with religious reverence certain plants and animals is beyond dispute. that some stocks even traced their lineage to beasts will be shown in the chapter on greek divine myths, and the presumption is that these creatures, though explained as incarnations and disguises of various gods, were once totems sans phrase, as will be inferred from various examples. clemens alexandrinus, again, after describing the animal-worship of the egyptians, mentions cases of zoolatry in greece.( ) the thessalians revered storks, the thebans weasels, and the myth ran that the weasel had in some way aided alcmena when in labour with heracles. in another form of the myth the weasel was the foster-mother of the hero.( ) other thessalians, the myrmidons, claimed descent from the ant and revered ants. the religious respect paid to mice in the temple of apollo smintheus, in the troad, rhodes, gela, lesbos and crete is well known, and a local tribe were alluded to as mice by an oracle. the god himself, like the japanese harvest-god, was represented in art with a mouse at his foot, and mice, as has been said, were fed at his shrine.( ) the syrians, says clemens alexandrinus, worship doves and fishes, as the elians worship zeus.( ) the people of delphi adored the wolf,( ) and the samians the sheep. the athenians had a hero whom they worshipped in the shape of a wolf.( ) a remarkable testimony is that of the scholiast on apollonius rhodius, ii. . "the wolf," he says, "was a beast held in honour by the athenians, and whosoever slays a wolf collects what is needful for its burial." the burial of sacred animals in egypt is familiar. an arab tribe mourns over and solemnly buries all dead gazelles.( ) nay, flies were adored with the sacrifice of an ox near the temple of apollo in leucas.( ) pausanias (iii. ) mentions certain colonists who were guided by a hare to a site where the animal hid in a myrtle-bush. they therefore adore the myrtle, (greek text omitted). in the same way a carian stock, the ioxidae, revered the asparagus.( ) a remarkable example of descent mythically claimed from one of the lower animals is noted by otfried muller.( ) speaking of the swan of apollo, he says, "that deity was worshipped, according to the testimony of the iliad, in the trojan island of tenedos. there, too, was tennes honoured as the (greek text omitted) of the island. now his father was called cycnus (the swan) in an oft-told and romantic legend.( )... the swan, therefore, as father to the chief hero on the apolline island, stands in distinct relation to the god, who is made to come forward still more prominently from the fact that apollo himself is also called father of tennes. i think we can scarcely fail to recognise a mythus which was local at tenedos.... the fact, too, of calling the swan, instead of apollo, the father of a hero, demands altogether a simplicity and boldness of fancy which are far more ancient than the poems of homer." ( ) op. cit., i. . ( ) scholiast on iliad, xix. . ( ) aelian, h. a., xii. ; strabo, xiii. . compare "apollo and the mouse, custom and myth, pp. - . ( ) lucian, de dea syria. ( ) aelian, h. a., xii. . ( ) harpocration, (greek text omitted). compare an address to the wolf-hero, "who delights in the flight and tears of men," in aristophanes, vespae, . ( ) robertson smith, kinship in early arabia, pp. - . ( ) aelian, xi. . ( ) plutarch, theseus, . ( ) proleg., engl. trans., p. . ( ) (canne on conon, .) had muller known that this "simplicity and boldness of fancy" exist to-day, for example, among the swan tribe of australia, he would probably have recognised in cycnus a survival from totemism. the fancy survives again in virgil's cupavo, "with swan's plumes rising from his crest, the mark of his father's form".( ) descent was claimed, not only from a swan apollo, but from a dog apollo. ( ) aeneid, x. . in connection with the same set of ideas, it is pointed out that several (greek text omitted), or stocks, had eponymous heroes, in whose names the names of the ancestral beast apparently survived. in attica the crioeis have their hero (crio, "ram"), the butadae have butas ("bullman"), the aegidae have aegeus ("goat"), and the cynadae, cynus ("dog"). lycus, according to harpocration (s. v.) has his statue in the shape of a wolf in the lyceum. "the general facts that certain animals might not be sacrificed to certain gods" (at athens the aegidae introduced athena, to whom no goat might be offered on the acropolis, while she herself wore the goat skin, aegis), "while, on the other hand, each deity demanded particular victims, explained by the ancients themselves in certain cases to be hostile animals, find their natural explanation" in totemism.( ) mr. evelyn abbott points out, however, that the names aegeus, aegae, aegina, and others, may be connected with the goat only by an old volks-etymologie, as on coins of aegina in achaea. the real meaning of the words may be different. compare (greek text omitted), the sea-shore. mr. j. g. frazer does not, at present, regard totemism as proved in the case of greece.( ) ( ) some apparent survivals of totemism in ritual will be found in the chapter on greek gods, especially zeus, dionysus, and apollo. ( ) see his golden bough, an alternative explanation of these animals in connection with "the corn spirit". as final examples of survivals from the age of barbarism in the religion of greece, certain features in the mysteries may be noted. plutarch speaks of "the eating of raw flesh, and tearing to pieces of victims, as also fastings and beatings of the breast, and again in many places abusive language at the sacrifices, and other mad doings". the mysteries of demeter, as will appear when her legend is criticised, contained one element all unlike these "mad doings"; and the evidence of sophocles, pindar, plutarch and others demonstrate that religious consolations were somehow conveyed in the eleusinia. but greece had many other local mysteries, and in several of these it is undeniable the greeks acted much as contemporary australians, zunis and negroes act in their secret initiations which, however, also inculcate moral ideas of considerable excellence. important as these analogies are, they appear to have escaped the notice of most mythologists. m. alfred maury, however, in les religions de la grece, published in , offers several instances of hidden rites, common to hellas and to barbarism. there seem in the mysteries of savage races to be two chief purposes. there is the intention of giving to the initiated a certain sacred character, which puts them in close relation with gods or demons, and there is the introduction of the young to complete or advancing manhood, and to full participation in the savage church with its ethical ideas. the latter ceremonies correspond, in short, to confirmation, and they are usually of a severe character, being meant to test by fasting (as plutarch says) and by torture (as in the familiar spartan rite) the courage and constancy of the young braves. the greek mysteries best known to us are the thesmophoria and the eleusinia. in the former the rites (as will appear later) partook of the nature of savage "medicine" or magic, and were mainly intended to secure fertility in husbandry and in the family. in the eleusinia the purpose was the purification of the initiated, secured by ablutions and by standing on the "ram's-skin of zeus," and after purifications the mystae engaged in sacred dances, and were permitted to view a miracle play representing the sorrows and consolations of demeter. there was a higher element, necessarily obscure in nature. the chief features in the whole were purifications, dancing, sacrifice and the representation of the miracle play. it would be tedious to offer an exhaustive account of savage rites analogous to these mysteries of hellas. let it suffice to display the points where greek found itself in harmony with australian, and american, and african practice. these points are: ( ) mystic dances; ( ) the use of a little instrument, called turndun in australia, whereby a roaring noise is made, and the profane are warned off; ( ) the habit of daubing persons about to be initiated with clay or anything else that is sordid, and of washing this off; apparently by way of showing that old guilt is removed and a new life entered upon; ( ) the performances with serpents may be noticed, while the "mad doings" and "howlings" mentioned by plutarch are familiar to every reader of travels in uncivilised countries; ( ) ethical instruction is communicated. first, as to the mystic dances, lucian observes:( ) "you cannot find a single ancient mystery in which there is not dancing.... this much all men know, that most people say of the revealers of the mysteries that they 'dance them out'" ((greek text omitted)). clemens of alexandria uses the same term when speaking of his own "appalling revelations".( ) so closely connected are mysteries with dancing among savages, that when mr. orpen asked qing, the bushman hunter, about some doctrines in which qing was not initiated, he said: "only the initiated men of that dance know these things". to "dance" this or that means to be acquainted with this or that myth, which is represented in a dance or ballet d'action( ) ((greek text omitted)). so widely distributed is the practice, that acosta, in an interesting passage, mentions it as familiar to the people of peru before and after the spanish conquest. the text is a valuable instance of survival in religion. when they were converted to christianity the peruvians detected the analogy between our sacrament and their mysteries, and they kept up as much as possible of the old rite in the new ritual. just as the mystae of eleusis practised chastity, abstaining from certain food, and above all from beans, before the great pagan sacrament, so did the indians. "to prepare themselves all the people fasted two days, during which they did neyther company with their wives, nor eate any meate with salt or garlicke, nor drink any chic.... and although the indians now forbeare to sacrifice beasts or other things publikely, which cannot be hidden from the spaniardes, yet doe they still use many ceremonies that have their beginnings from these feasts and auntient superstitions, for at this day do they covertly make their feast of ytu at the daunces of the feast of the sacrament. another feast falleth almost at the same time, whereas the christians observe the solempnitie of the holy sacrament, which doth resemble it in some sort, as in dauncing, singing and representations."( ) the holy "daunces" at seville are under papal disapproval, but are to be kept up, it is said, till the peculiar dresses used in them are worn out. acosta's indians also had "garments which served only for this feast". it is superfluous to multiply examples of the dancing, which is an invariable feature of savage as of greek mysteries. ( ) (greek text omitted), chap. xv. . ( ) ap. euseb., praep. ev., ii, , . ( ) cape monthly magazine, july, . ( ) acosta, historie of the indies, book v. chap. xxviii. london, . . the greek and savage use of the turndun, or bribbun of australia in the mysteries is familiar to students. this fish-shaped flat board of wood is tied to a string, and whirled round, so as to cause a peculiar muffled roar. lobeck quotes from the old scholia on clemens alexandrinus, published by bastius in annotations on st. gregory, the following greek description of the turndun, the "bull-roarer" of english country lads, the gaelic srannam:( ) (greek text omitted)". "the conus was a little slab of wood, tied to a string, and whirled round in the mysteries to make a whirring noise. as the mystic uses of the turndun in australia, new zealand, new mexico and zululand have elsewhere been described at some length (custom and myth, pp. - ), it may be enough to refer the reader to the passage. mr. taylor has since found the instrument used in religious mysteries in west africa, so it has now been tracked almost round the world. that an instrument so rude should be employed by greek and australians on mystic occasions is in itself a remarkable coincidence. unfortunately, lobeck, who published the greek description of the turndun (aglaophamus, ), was unacquainted with the modern ethnological evidence. ( ) pronounced strantham. for this information i am indebted to my friend mr. m'allister, schoolmaster at st. mary's loch. . the custom of plastering the initiated over with clay or filth was common in greek as in barbaric mysteries. greek examples may be given first. demosthenes accuses aeschines of helping his mother in certain mystic rites, aiding her, especially, by bedaubing the initiate with clay and bran.( ) harpocration explains the term used ((greek text omitted)) thus: "daubing the clay and bran on the initiate, to explain which they say that the titans when they attacked dionysus daubed themselves over with chalk, but afterwards, for ritual purposes, clay was used". it may be urged with some force that the mother of aeschines introduced foreign, novel and possibly savage rites. but sophocles, in a fragment of his lost play, the captives, uses the term in the same ritual sense-- (greek text omitted). ( ) de corona, . the idea clearly was that by cleansing away the filth plastered over the body was symbolised the pure and free condition of the initiate. he might now cry in the mystic chant-- (greek text omitted). worse have i fled, better have i found. that this was the significance of the daubing with clay in greek mysteries and the subsequent cleansing seems quite certain. we are led straight to this conclusion by similar rites, in which the purpose of mystically cleansing was openly put forward. thus plutarch, in his essay on superstition, represents the guilty man who would be purified actually rolling in clay, confessing his misdeeds, and then sitting at home purified by the cleansing process ((greek text omitted)).( ) in another rite, the cleansing of blood-guiltiness, a similar process was practised. orestes, after killing his mother, complains that the eumenides do not cease to persecute him, though he has been "purified by blood of swine".( ) apollonius says that the red hand of the murderer was dipped in the blood of swine and then washed.( ) athenaeus describes a similar unpleasant ceremony.( ) the blood of whelps was apparently used also, men being first daubed with it and then washed clean.( ) the word (greek text omitted) is again the appropriate ritual term. such rites plutarch calls (greek text omitted), "filthy purifications".( ) if daubing with dirt is known to have been a feature of greek mysteries, it meets us everywhere among savages. in o-kee-pa, that curiously minute account of the mandan mysteries, catlin writes that a portion of the frame of the initiate was "covered with clay, which the operator took from a wooden bowl, and with his hand plastered unsparingly over". the fifty young men waiting for initiation "were naked and entirely covered with clay of various colours".( ) the custom is mentioned by captain john smith in virginia. mr. winwood reade found it in africa, where, as among the mandans and spartans, cruel torture and flogging accompanied the initiation of young men.( ) in australia the evidence for daubing the initiate is very abundant.( ) in new mexico, the zunis stole mr. cushing's black paint, as considering it even better than clay for religious daubing.( ) ( ) so hermann, op. cit., . ( ) eumenides, . ( ) argonautica, iv. . ( ) ix. . hermann, from whom the latter passages are borrowed, also quotes the evidence of a vase published by feuerbach, lehrbuch, p. , with other authorities. ( ) plutarch, quaest. rom., . ( ) de superstitione, chap. xii. ( ) o-kee-pa, london, , p. . ( ) savage africa, case of mongilomba; pausanias, iii. . ( ) brough smyth, i. . ( ) custma and myth, p. . . another savage rite, the use of serpents in greek mysteries, is attested by clemens alexandrinus and by demosthenes (loc. cit.). clemens says the snakes were caressed in representations of the loves of zeus in serpentine form. the great savage example is that of "the snake-dance of the moquis," who handle rattle-snakes in the mysteries without being harmed.( ) the dance is partly totemistic, partly meant, like the thesmophoria, to secure the fertility of the lands of the moquis of arizonas. the turndum or (greek text omitted) is employed. masks are worn, as in the rites of demeter cidiria in arcadia.( ) ( ) the snake-dance of the moquis. by captain john g. bourke, london, . ( ) pausanias, viii. . . this last point of contact between certain greek and certain savage mysteries is highly important. the argument of lobeck, in his celebrated work aglaophamus, is that the mysteries were of no great moment in religion. had he known the evidence as to savage initiations, he would have been confirmed in his opinion, for many of the singular greek rites are clearly survivals from savagery. but was there no more truly religious survival? pindar is a very ancient witness that things of divine import were revealed. "happy is he who having seen these things goes under the hollow earth. he knows the end of life, and the god-given beginning."( ) sophocles "chimes in," as lobeck says, declaring that the initiate alone live in hades, while other souls endure all evils. crinagoras avers that even in life the initiate live secure, and in death are the happier. isagoras declares that about the end of life and all eternity they have sweet hopes. ( ) fragm., cxvi., h. p. . splendida testimonia, cries lobeck. he tries to minimise the evidence, remarking that isocrates promises the very same rewards to all who live justly and righteously. but why not, if to live justly and righteously was part of the teaching of the mysteries of eleusis? cicero's evidence, almost a translation of the greek passages already cited, lobeck dismisses as purely rhetorical.( ) lobeck's method is rather cavalier. pindar and sophocles meant something of great significance. ( ) de legibus ii. ; aglaophamus, pp. - . now we have acknowledged savage survivals of ugly rites in the greek mysteries. but it is only fair to remember that, in certain of the few savage mysteries of which we know the secret, righteousness of life and a knowledge of good are inculcated. this is the case in australia, and in central africa, where to be "uninitiated" is equivalent to being selfish.( ) thus it seems not improbable that consolatory doctrines were expounded in the eleusinia, and that this kind of sermon or exhortation was no less a survival from savagery than the daubing with clay, and the (greek text omitted), and other wild rites. ( ) making of religion, pp. - , . we have now attempted to establish that in greek law and ritual many savage customs and usages did undeniably survive. we have seen that both philosophical and popular opinion in greece believed in a past age of savagery. in law, in religion, in religious art, in custom, in human sacrifice, in relics of totemism, and in the mysteries, we have seen that the greeks retained plenty of the usages now found among the remotest and most backward races. we have urged against the suggestion of borrowing from egypt or asia that these survivals are constantly found in local and tribal religion and rituals, and that consequently they probably date from that remote prehistoric past when the greeks lived in village settlements. it may still doubtless be urged that all these things are pelasgic, and were the customs of a race settled in hellas before the arrival of the homeric achaeans, and dorians, and argives, who, on this hypothesis, adopted and kept up the old savage pelasgian ways and superstitions. it is impossible to prove or disprove this belief, nor does it affect our argument. we allege that all greek life below the surface was rich in institutions now found among the most barbaric peoples. these institutions, whether borrowed or inherited, would still be part of the legacy left by savages to cultivated peoples. as this legacy is so large in custom and ritual, it is not unfair to argue that portions of it will also be found in myths. it is now time to discuss greek myths of the origin of things, and decide whether they are or are not analogous in ideas to the myths which spring from the wild and ignorant fancy of australians, cahrocs, nootkas and bushmen. chapter x. greek cosmogonic myths. nature of the evidence--traditions of origin of the world and man--homeric, hesiodic and orphic myths--later evidence of historians, dramatists, commentators--the homeric story comparatively pure--the story in hesiod, and its savage analogues--the explanations of the myth of cronus, modern and ancient--the orphic cosmogony--phanes and prajapati--greek myths of the origin of man--their savage analogues. the authorities for greek cosmogonic myth are extremely various in date, character and value. the most ancient texts are the iliad and the poems attributed to hesiod. the iliad, whatever its date, whatever the place of its composition, was intended to please a noble class of warriors. the hesiodic poems, at least the theogony, have clearly a didactic aim, and the intention of presenting a systematic and orderly account of the divine genealogies. to neither would we willingly attribute a date much later than the ninth century of our era, but the question of the dates of all the epic and hesiodic poems, and even of their various parts, is greatly disputed among scholars. yet it is nowhere denied that, however late the present form of some of the poems may be, they contain ideas of extreme antiquity. although the homeric poems are usually considered, on the whole, more ancient than those attributed to hesiod,( ) it is a fact worth remembering that the notions of the origin of things in hesiod are much more savage and (as we hold) much more archaic than the opinions of homer. ( ) grote assigns his theogony to circ. a.d. the thegony was taught to boys in greece, much as the church catechism and bible are taught in england; aeschines in ctesiph., , p. . libanius, years after christ (i. - , iv. ). while hesiod offers a complete theogony or genealogy of deities and heroes, homer gives no more than hints and allusions to the stormy past of the gods. it is clear, however, that his conception of that past differed considerably from the traditions of hesiod. however we explain it, the homeric mythology (though itself repugnant to the philosophers from xenophanes downwards) is much more mild, pure and humane than the mythology either of hesiod or of our other greek authorities. some may imagine that homer retains a clearer and less corrupted memory than hesiod possessed of an original and authentic "divine tradition". others may find in homer's comparative purity a proof of the later date of his epics in their present form, or may even proclaim that homer was a kind of cervantes, who wished to laugh the gods away. there is no conceivable or inconceivable theory about homer that has not its advocates. for ourselves, we hold that the divine genius of homer, though working in an age distant rather than "early," selected instinctively the purer mythical materials, and burned away the coarser dross of antique legend, leaving little but the gold which is comparatively refined. we must remember that it does not follow that any mythical ideas are later than the age of homer because we first meet them in poems of a later date. we have already seen that though the brahmanas are much later in date of compilation than the veda, yet a tradition which we first find in the brahmanas may be older than the time at which the veda was compiled. in the same way, as mr. max muller observes, "we know that certain ideas which we find in later writers do not occur in homer. but it does not follow at all that such ideas are all of later growth or possess a secondary character. one myth may have belonged to one tribe; one god may have had his chief worship in one locality; and our becoming acquainted with these through a later poet does not in the least prove their later origin."( ) ( ) hibbert lectures, pp. , . after homer and hesiod, our most ancient authorities for greek cosmogonic myths are probably the so-called orphic fragments. concerning the dates and the manner of growth of these poems volumes of erudition have been compiled. as homer is silent about orpheus (in spite of the position which the mythical thracian bard acquired as the inventor of letters and magic and the father of the mysteries), it has been usual to regard the orphic ideas as of late introduction. we may agree with grote and lobeck that these ideas and the ascetic "orphic mode of life" first acquired importance in greece about the time of epimenides, or, roughly speaking, between and b.c.( ) that age certainly witnessed a curious growth of superstitious fears and of mystic ceremonies intended to mitigate spiritual terrors. greece was becoming more intimately acquainted with egypt and with asia, and was comparing her own religion with the beliefs and rites of other peoples. the times and the minds of men were being prepared for the clear philosophies that soon "on argive heights divinely sang". just as, when the old world was about to accept christianity, a deluge of oriental and barbaric superstitions swept across men's minds, so immediately before the dawn of greek philosophy there came an irruption of mysticism and of spiritual fears. we may suppose that the orphic poems were collected, edited and probably interpolated, in this dark hour of greece. "to me," says lobeck, "it appears that the verses may be referred to the age of onomacritus, an age curious in the writings of ancient poets, and attracted by the allurements of mystic religions." the style of the surviving fragments is sufficiently pure and epic; the strange unheard of myths are unlike those which the alexandrian poets drew from fountains long lost.( ) but how much in the orphic myths is imported from asia or egypt, how much is the invention of literary forgers like onomacritus, how much should be regarded as the first guesses of the physical poet-philosophers, and how much is truly ancient popular legend recast in literary form, it is impossible with certainty to determine. ( ) lobeck, aglaophamus, i. ; grote, iii. . ( ) aglaophamus, i. . we must not regard a myth as necessarily late or necessarily foreign because we first meet it in an "orphic composition". if the myth be one of the sort which encounter us in every quarter, nay, in every obscure nook of the globe, we may plausibly regard it as ancient. if it bear the distinct marks of being a neo-platonic pastiche, we may reject it without hesitation. on the whole, however, our orphic authorities can never be quoted with much satisfaction. the later sources of evidence for greek myths are not of great use to the student of cosmogonic legend, though invaluable when we come to treat of the established dynasty of gods, the heroes and the "culture-heroes". for these the authorities are the whole range of greek literature, poets, dramatists, philosophers, critics, historians and travellers. we have also the notes and comments of the scholiasts or commentators on the poets and dramatists. sometimes these annotators only darken counsel by their guesses. sometimes perhaps, especially in the scholia on the iliad and odyssey, they furnish us with a precious myth or popular marchen not otherwise recorded. the regular professional mythographi, again, of whom apollodorus ( b.c.) is the type, compiled manuals explanatory of the myths which were alluded to by the poets. the scholiasts and mythographi often retain myths from lost poems and lost plays. finally, from the travellers and historians we occasionally glean examples of the tales ("holy chapters," as mr. grote calls them) which were narrated by priests and temple officials to the pilgrims who visited the sacred shrines. these "chapters" are almost invariably puerile, savage and obscene. they bear the stamp of extreme antiquity, because they never, as a rule, passed through the purifying medium of literature. there were many myths too crude and archaic for the purposes of poetry and of the drama. these were handed down from local priest to local priest, with the inviolability of sacred and immutable tradition. we have already given a reason for assigning a high antiquity to the local temple myths. just as greeks lived in villages before they gathered into towns, so their gods were gods of villages or tribes before they were national deities. the local myths are those of the archaic village state of "culture," more ancient, more savage, than literary narrative. very frequently the local legends were subjected to the process of allegorical interpretation, as men became alive to the monstrosity of their unsophisticated meaning. often they proved too savage for our authorities, who merely remark, "concerning this a certain holy chapter is told," but decline to record the legend. in the same way missionaries, with mistaken delicacy, often refuse to repeat some savage legend with which they are acquainted. the latest sort of testimony as to greek myths must be sought in the writings of the heathen apologists or learned pagan defenders of paganism in the first centuries during christianity, and in the works of their opponents, the fathers of the church. though the fathers certainly do not understate the abominations of paganism, and though the heathen apologists make free use of allegorical (and impossible) interpretations, the evidence of both is often useful and important. the testimony of ancient art, vases, statues, pictures and the descriptions of these where they no longer survive, are also of service and interest. after this brief examination of the sources of our knowledge of greek myth, we may approach the homeric legends of the origin of things and the world's beginning. in homer these matters are only referred to incidentally. he more than once calls oceanus (that is, the fabled stream which flows all round the world, here regarded as a person) "the origin of the gods," "the origin of all things".( ) that ocean is considered a person, and that he is not an allegory for water or the aqueous element, appears from the speech of hera to aphrodite: "i am going to visit the limits of the bountiful earth, and oceanus, father of the gods, and mother tethys, who reared me duly and nurtured me in their halls, when far-seeing zeus imprisoned cronus beneath the earth and the unvintaged sea".( ) homer does not appear to know uranus as the father of cronus, and thus the myth of the mutilation of uranus necessarily does not occur in homer. cronus, the head of the dynasty which preceded that of zeus, is described( ) as the son of rhea, but nothing is said of his father. the passage contains the account which poseidon himself chose to give of the war in heaven: "three brethren are we, and sons of cronus whom rhea bare--zeus and myself, and hades is the third, the ruler of the folk in the underworld. and in three lots were all things divided, and each drew a domain of his own." here zeus is the eldest son of cronus. though lots are drawn at hazard for the property of the father (which we know to have been customary in homer's time), yet throughout the iliad zeus constantly claims the respect and obedience due to him by right of primogeniture.( ) we shall see that hesiod adopts exactly the opposite view. zeus is the youngest child of cronus. his supremacy is an example of jungsten recht, the wide-spread custom which makes the youngest child the heir in chief.( ) but how did the sons of cronus come to have his property in their hands to divide? by right of successful rebellion, when "zeus imprisoned cronus beneath the earth and the unvintaged sea". with cronus in his imprisonment are the titans. that is all that homer cares to tell about the absolute beginning of things and the first dynasty of rulers of olympus. his interest is all in the actual reigning family, that of the cronidae, nor is he fond of reporting their youthful excesses. ( ) iliad, xiv. , , . ( ) in reading what homer and hesiod report about these matters, we must remember that all the forces and phenomena are conceived of by them as persons. in this regard the archaic and savage view of all things as personal and human is preserved. "i maintain," says grote, "moreover, fully the character of these great divine agents as persons, which is the light in which they presented themselves to the homeric or hesiodic audience. uranus, nyx, hypnos and oneiros (heaven, night, sleep and dream) are persons just as much as zeus or apollo. to resolve them into mere allegories is unsafe and unprofitable. we then depart from the point of view of the original hearers without acquiring any consistent or philosophical point of view of our own." this holds good though portions of the hesiodic genealogies are distinctly poetic allegories cast in the mould or the ancient personal theory of things. ( ) iliad, xv. . ( ) the custom by which sons drew lots for equal shares of their dead father's property is described in odyssey, xiv. - . here odysseus, giving a false account of himself, says that he was a cretan, a bastard, and that his half-brothers, born in wedlock, drew lots for their father's inheritance, and did not admit him to the drawing, but gave him a small portion apart. ( ) see elton, origins of english history, pp. - . we now turn from homer's incidental allusions to the ample and systematic narrative of hesiod. as mr. grote says, "men habitually took their information respecting their theogonic antiquities from the hesiodic poems." hesiod was accepted as an authority both by the pious pausanias in the second century of our era--who protested against any attempt to alter stories about the gods--and by moral reformers like plato and xenophanes, who were revolted by the ancient legends,( ) and, indeed, denied their truth. yet, though hesiod represents greek orthodoxy, we have observed that homer (whose epics are probably still more ancient) steadily ignores the more barbarous portions of hesiod's narrative. thus the question arises: are the stories of hesiod's invention, and later than homer, or does homer's genius half-unconsciously purify materials like those which hesiod presents in the crudest form? mr. grote says: "how far these stories are the invention of hesiod himself it is impossible to determine. they bring us down to a cast of fancy more coarse and indelicate than the homeric, and more nearly resemble some of the holy chapters ((greek text omitted)) of the more recent mysteries, such, for example, as the tale of dionysus zagreus. there is evidence in the theogony itself that the author was acquainted with local legends current both at krete and at delphi, for he mentions both the mountain-cave in krete wherein the newly-born zeus was hidden, and the stone near the delphian temple--the identical stone which kronos had swallowed--placed by zeus himself as a sign and marvel to mortal men. both these monuments, which the poet expressly refers to, and had probably seen, imply a whole train of accessory and explanatory local legends, current probably among the priests of krete and delphi." ( ) timaeeus, ; republic, . all these circumstances appear to be good evidence of the great antiquity of the legends recorded by hesiod. in the first place, arguing merely a priori, it is extremely improbable that in the brief interval between the date of the comparatively pure and noble mythology of the iliad and the much ruder theogony of hesiod men invented stories like the mutilation of uranus, and the swallowing of his offspring by cronus. the former legend is almost exactly parallel, as has already been shown, to the myth of papa and rangi in new zealand. the later has its parallels among the savage bushmen and australians. it is highly improbable that men in an age so civilised as that of homer invented myths as hideous as those of the lowest savages. but if we take these myths to be, not new inventions, but the sacred stories of local priesthoods, their antiquity is probably incalculable. the sacred stories, as we know from pausanias, herodotus and from all the writers who touch on the subject of the mysteries, were myths communicated by the priests to the initiated. plato speaks of such myths in the republic, : "if there is an absolute necessity for their mention, a very few might hear them in a mystery, and then let them sacrifice, not a common pig, but some huge and unprocurable victim; this would have the effect of very greatly diminishing the number of the hearers". this is an amusing example of a plan for veiling the horrors of myth. the pig was the animal usually offered to demeter, the goddess of the eleusinian mysteries. plato proposes to substitute some "unprocurable" beast, perhaps a giraffe or an elephant. to hesiod, then, we must turn for what is the earliest complete literary form of the greek cosmogonic myth. hesiod begins, like the new zealanders, with "the august race of gods, by earth and wide heaven begotten".( ) so the new zealanders, as we have seen, say, "the heaven which is above us, and the earth which is beneath us, are the progenitors of men and the origin of all things". hesiod( ) somewhat differs from this view by making chaos absolutely first of all things, followed by "wide-bosomed earth," tartarus and eros (love). chaos unaided produced erebus and night; the children of night and erebus are aether and day. earth produced heaven, who then became her own lover, and to heaven she bore oceanus, and the titans, coeeus and crius, hyperion and iapetus, thea and rhea, themis, mnemosyne, phoebe, tethys, "and youngest after these was born cronus of crooked counsel, the most dreadful of her children, who ever detested his puissant sire," heaven. there were other sons of earth and heaven peculiarly hateful to their father,( ) and these uranus used to hide from the light in a hollow of gaea. both they and gaea resented this treatment, and the titans, like "the children of heaven and earth," in the new zealand poem, "sought to discern the difference between light and darkness". gaea (unlike earth in the new zealand myth, for there she is purely passive), conspired with her children, produced iron, and asked her sons to avenge their wrongs.( ) fear fell upon all of them save cronus, who (like tane mahuta in the maori poem) determined to end the embraces of earth and heaven. but while the new zealand, like the indo-aryan myth,( ) conceives of earth and heaven as two beings who have never previously been sundered at all, hesiod makes heaven amorously approach his spouse from a distance. this was the moment for cronus,( ) who stretched out his hand armed with the sickle of iron, and mutilated uranus. as in so many savage myths, the blood of the wounded god fallen on the ground produced strange creatures, nymphs of the ash-tree, giants and furies. as in the maori myth, one of the children of heaven stood apart and did not consent to the deed. this was oceanus in greece,( ) and in new zealand it was tawhiri matea, the wind, "who arose and followed his father, heaven, and remained with him in the open spaces of the sky". uranus now predicted( ) that there would come a day of vengeance for the evil deed of cronus, and so ends the dynasty of uranus. ( ) theog., . ( ) ibid., . ( ) ibid., . ( ) ibid., . ( ) muir, v. , quoting aitareya brahmana, iv. : "these two worlds were once joined; subsequently they separated". ( ) theog., - . ( ) apollod., i, . ( ) theog., . this story was one of the great stumbling-blocks of orthodox greece. it was the tale that plato said should be told, if at all, only to a few in a mystery, after the sacrifice of some rare and scarcely obtainable animal. even among the maoris, the conduct of the children who severed their father and mother is regarded as a singular instance of iniquity, and is told to children as a moral warning, an example to be condemned. in greece, on the other hand, unless we are to take the euthyphro as wholly ironical, some of the pious justified their conduct by the example of zeus. euthyphro quotes this example when he is about to prosecute his own father, for which act, he says, "men are angry with me; so inconsistently do they talk when i am concerned and when the gods are concerned".( ) but in greek the tale has no meaning. it has been allegorised in various ways, and lafitau fancied that it was a distorted form of the biblical account of the origin of sin. in maori the legend is perfectly intelligible. heaven and earth were conceived of (like everything else), as beings with human parts and passions, linked in an endless embrace which crushed and darkened their children. it became necessary to separate them, and this feat was achieved not without pain. "then wailed the heaven, and exclaimed the earth, 'wherefore this murder? why this great sin? why separate us?' but what cared tane? upwards he sent one and downwards the other. he cruelly severed the sinews which united heaven and earth."( ) the greek myth too, contemplated earth and heaven as beings corporeally united, and heaven as a malignant power that concealed his children in darkness. ( ) euthyphro, . ( ) taylor, new zealand, . but while the conception of heaven and earth as parents of living things remains perfectly intelligible in one sense, the vivid personification which regarded them as creatures with human parts and passions had ceased to be intelligible in greece before the times of the earliest philosophers. the old physical conception of the pair became a metaphor, and the account of their rending asunder by their children lost all significance, and seemed to be an abominable and unintelligible myth. when examined in the light of the new zealand story, and of the fact that early peoples do regard all phenomena as human beings, with physical attributes like those of men, the legend of cronus, and uranus, and gaea ceases to be a mystery. it is, at bottom, a savage explanation (as in the samoan story) of the separation of earth and heaven, an explanation which could only have occurred to people in a state of mind which civilisation has forgotten. the next generation of hesiodic gods (if gods we are to call the members of this race of non-natural men) was not more fortunate than the first in its family relations. cronus wedded his sister, rhea, and begat demeter, hera, hades, poseidon, and the youngest, zeus. "and mighty cronus swallowed down each of them, each that came to their mother's knees from her holy womb, with this intent that none other of the proud sons of heaven should hold his kingly sway among the immortals. heaven and earth had warned him that he too should fall through his children. wherefore he kept no vain watch, but spied and swallowed down each of his offspring, while grief immitigable took possession of rhea."( ) rhea, being about to become the mother of zeus, took counsel with uranus and gaea. by their advice she went to crete, where zeus was born, and, in place of the child, she presented to cronus a huge stone swathed in swaddling bands. this he swallowed, and was easy in his mind. zeus grew up, and by some means, suggested by gaea, compelled zeus to disgorge all his offspring. "and he vomited out the stone first, as he had swallowed it last."( ) the swallowed children emerged alive, and zeus fixed the stone at pytho (delphi), where pausanias( ) had the privilege of seeing it, and where, as it did not tempt the cupidity of barbarous invaders, it probably still exists. it was not a large stone, pausanias says, and the delphians used to pour oil over it, as jacob did( ) to the stone at bethel, and on feast-days they covered it with wraps of wool. the custom of smearing fetish-stones (which theophrastus mentions as one of the practices of the superstitious man) is clearly a survival from the savage stage of religion. as a rule, however, among savages, fetish-stones are daubed with red paint (like the face of the wooden ancient dionysi in greece, and of tsui goab among the hottentots), not smeared with oil.( ) ( ) theog., , . ( ) theog., . ( ) x. . ( ) gen. xxviii. . ( ) pausanias, ii. , . "churinga" in australia are greased with the natural moisture of the palm of the hand, and rubbed with red ochre.--spencer and gillen. they are "sacred things," but not exactly fetishes. the myth of the swallowing and disgorging of his own children by cronus was another of the stumbling-blocks of greek orthodoxy. the common explanation, that time ((greek text omitted)) does swallow his children, the days, is not quite satisfactory. time brings never the past back again, as cronus did. besides, the myth of the swallowing is not confined to cronus. modern philology has given, as usual, different analyses of the meaning of the name of the god. hermann, with preller, derives it from (greek text omitted), to fulfil. the harvest-month, says preller, was named cronion in greece, and cronia was the title of the harvest-festival. the sickle of cronus is thus brought into connection with the sickle of the harvester.( ) ( ) preller, gr. myth., i. ; hartung, ii. ; porphyry, abst., ii. . welcker will not hear of this etymology, gr. gott., i. , note . the second myth, in which cronus swallows his children, has numerous parallels in savage legend. bushmen tell of kwai hemm, the devourer, who swallows that great god, the mantis insect, and disgorges him alive with all the other persons and animals whom he has engulphed in the course of a long and voracious career.( ) the moon in australia, while he lived on earth, was very greedy, and swallowed the eagle-god, whom he had to disgorge. mr. im thurn found similar tales among the indians of guiana. the swallowing and disgorging of heracles by the monster that was to slay hesione is well known. scotch peasants tell of the same feats, but localise the myth on the banks of the ken in galloway. basutos, eskimos, zulus and european fairy tales all possess this incident, the swallowing of many persons by a being from whose maw they return alive and in good case. ( ) bleek, bushman folk-lore, pp. , . a mythical conception which prevails from greenland to south africa, from delphi to the solomon islands, from brittany to the shores of lake superior, must have some foundation in the common elements of human nature.( ) now it seems highly probable that this curious idea may have been originally invented in an attempt to explain natural phenomena by a nature-myth. it has already been shown (chapter v.) that eclipses are interpreted, even by the peasantry of advanced races, as the swallowing of the moon by a beast or a monster. the piutes account for the disappearance of the stars in the daytime by the hypothesis that the "sun swallows his children". in the melanesian myth, dawn is cut out of the body of night by qat, armed with a knife of red obsidian. here are examples( ) of transparent nature-myths in which this idea occurs for obvious explanatory purposes, and in accordance with the laws of the savage imagination. thus the conception of the swallowing and disgorging being may very well have arisen out of a nature-myth. but why is the notion attached to the legend of cronus? ( ) the myth of cronus and the swallowed children and the stone is transferred to gargantua. see sebillot, gargantua dans les traditions populaires. but it is impossible to be certain that this is not an example of direct borrowing by madame de cerny in her saint suliac, p. . ( ) compare tylor, prim. cult., i. . that is precisely the question about which mythologists differ, as has been shown, and perhaps it is better to offer no explanation. however stories arise--and this story probably arose from a nature-myth--it is certain that they wander about the world, that they change masters, and thus a legend which is told of a princess with an impossible name in zululand is told of the mother of charlemagne in france. the tale of the swallowing may have been attributed to cronus, as a great truculent deity, though it has no particular elemental signification in connection with his legend. this peculiarly savage trick of swallowing each other became an inherited habit in the family of cronus. when zeus reached years of discretion, he married metis, and this lady, according to the scholiast on hesiod, had the power of transforming herself into any shape she pleased. when she was about to be a mother, zeus induced her to assume the shape of a fly and instantly swallowed her.( ) in behaving thus, zeus acted on the advice of uranus and gaea. it was feared that metis would produce a child more powerful than his father. zeus avoided this peril by swallowing his wife, and himself gave birth to athene. the notion of swallowing a hostile person, who has been changed by magic into a conveniently small bulk, is very common. it occurs in the story of taliesin.( ) caridwen, in the shape of a hen, swallows gwion bach, in the form of a grain of wheat. in the same manner the princess in the arabian nights swallowed the geni. here then we have in the hesiodic myth an old marchen pressed into the service of the higher mythology. the apprehension which zeus (like herod and king arthur) always felt lest an unborn child should overthrow him, was also familiar to indra; but, instead of swallowing the mother and concealing her in his own body, like zeus, indra entered the mother's body, and himself was born instead of the dreaded child.( ) a cow on this occasion was born along with indra. this adventure of the (greek text omitted) or swallowing of metis was explained by the late platonists as a platonic allegory. probably the people who originated the tale were not platonists, any more than pandarus was all aristotelian. ( ) hesiod, theogonia, . see scholiast and note in aglaophamus, i. . compare puss in boots and the ogre. ( ) mabinogion, p. . ( ) black yajur veda, quoted by sayana. after homer and hesiod, the oldest literary authorities for greek cosmogonic myths are the poems attributed to orpheus. about their probable date, as has been said, little is known. they have reached us only in fragments, but seem to contain the first guesses of a philosophy not yet disengaged from mythical conditions. the poet preserves, indeed, some extremely rude touches of early imagination, while at the same time one of the noblest and boldest expressions of pantheistic thought is attributed to him. from the same source are drawn ideas as pure as those of the philosophical vedic hymn,( ) and as wild as those of the vedic purusha sukta, or legend of the fashioning of the world out of the mangled limbs of purusha. the authors of the orphic cosmogony appear to have begun with some remarks on time ((greek text omitted)). "time was when as yet this world was not."( ) time, regarded in the mythical fashion as a person, generated chaos and aether. the orphic poet styles chaos (greek text omitted), "the monstrous gulph," or "gap". this term curiously reminds one of ginnunga-gap in the scandinavian cosmogonic legends. "ginnunga-gap was light as windless air," and therein the blast of heat met the cold rime, whence ymir was generated, the purusha of northern fable.( ) these ideas correspond well with the orphic conception of primitive space.( ) ( ) rig-veda, x. . ( ) lobeck, aglaophamus, i. . see also the quotations from proclus. ( ) gylfi's mocking. ( ) aglaophamus, p. . in process of time chaos produced an egg, shining and silver white. it is absurd to inquire, according to lobeck, whether the poet borrowed this widely spread notion of a cosmic egg from phoenicia, babylon, egypt (where the goose-god seb laid the egg), or whether the orphic singer originated so obvious an idea. quaerere ludicrum est. the conception may have been borrowed, but manifestly it is one of the earliest hypotheses that occur to the rude imagination. we have now three primitive generations, time, chaos, the egg, and in the fourth generation the egg gave birth to phanes, the great hero of the orphic cosmogony.( ) the earliest and rudest thinkers were puzzled, as many savage cosmogonic myths have demonstrated, to account for the origin of life. the myths frequently hit on the theory of a hermaphroditic being, both male and female, who produces another being out of himself. prajapati in the indian stories, and hrimthursar in scandinavian legend--"one of his feet got a son on the other"--with lox in the algonquin tale are examples of these double-sexed personages. in the orphic poem, phanes is both male and female. this phanes held within him "the seed of all the gods,"( ) and his name is confused with the names of metis and ericapaeus in a kind of trinity. all this part of the orphic doctrine is greatly obscured by the allegorical and theosophistic interpretations of the late platonists long after our era, who, as usual, insisted on finding their own trinitarian ideas, commenta frigidissima, concealed under the mythical narrative.( ) ( ) clemens alexan., p. . ( ) damascius, ap. lobeck, i. . ( ) aglaoph., i. . another description by hieronymus of the first being, the orphic phanes, "as a serpent with bull's and lion's heads, with a human face in the middle and wings on the shoulders," is sufficiently rude and senseless. but these physical attributes could easily be explained away as types of anything the platonist pleased.( ) the orphic phanes, too, was almost as many-headed as a giant in a fairy tale, or as purusha in the rig-veda. he had a ram's head, a bull's head, a snake's head and a lion's head, and glanced around with four eyes, presumably human.( ) this remarkable being was also provided with golden wings. the nature of the physical arrangements by which phanes became capable of originating life in the world is described in a style so savage and crude that the reader must be referred to suidas for the original text.( ) the tale is worthy of the swift-like fancy of the australian narrinyeri. ( ) damascius, , ap. lobeck, i. . ( ) hermias in phaedr. ap. lobeck, i. . ( ) suidas s. v. phanes. nothing can be easier or more delusive than to explain all this wild part of the orphic cosmogony as an allegorical veil of any modern ideas we choose to select. but why the "allegory" should closely imitate the rough guesses of uncivilised peoples, ahts, diggers, zunis, cahrocs, it is less easy to explain. we can readily imagine african or american tribes who were accustomed to revere bulls, rams, snakes, and so forth, ascribing the heads of all their various animal patrons to the deity of their confederation. we can easily see how such races as practise the savage rites of puberty should attribute to the first being the special organs of phanes. but on the neo-platonic hypothesis that orpheus was a seer of neo-platonic opinions, we do not see why he should have veiled his ideas under so savage an allegory. this part of the orphic speculation is left in judicious silence by some modern commentators, such as m. darmesteter in les cosmogonies aryennes.( ) indeed, if we choose to regard apollonius rhodius, an alexandrine poet writing in a highly civilised age, as the representative of orphicism, it is easy to mask and pass by the more stern and characteristic fortresses of the orphic divine. the theriomorphic phanes is a much less "aryan" and agreeable object than the glorious golden-winged eros, the love-god of apollonius rhodius and aristophanes.( ) ( ) essais orientaux, p. . ( ) argonautica, - ; aves, . on the whole, the orphic fragments appear to contain survivals of savage myths of the origin of things blended with purer speculations. the savage ideas are finally explained by late philosophers as allegorical veils and vestments of philosophy; but the interpretation is arbitrary, and varies with the taste and fancy of each interpreter. meanwhile the coincidence of the wilder elements with the speculations native to races in the lowest grades of civilisation is undeniable. this opinion is confirmed by the greek myths of the origin of man. these, too, coincide with the various absurd conjectures of savages. in studying the various greek local legends of the origin of man, we encounter the difficulty of separating them from the myths of heroes, which it will be more convenient to treat separately. this difficulty we have already met in our treatment of savage traditions of the beginnings of the race. thus we saw that among the melanesians, qat, and among the ahts, quawteaht, were heroic persons, who made men and most other things. but it was desirable to keep their performances of this sort separate from their other feats, their introduction of fire, for example, and of various arts. in the same way it will be well, in reviewing greek legends, to keep prometheus' share in the making of men apart from the other stories of his exploits as a benefactor of the men whom he made. in hesiod, prometheus is the son of the titan iapetus, and perhaps his chief exploit is to play upon zeus a trick of which we find the parallel in various savage myths. it seems, however, from ovid( ) and other texts, that hesiod somewhere spoke of prometheus as having made men out of clay, like pund-jel in the australian, qat in the melanesian and tiki in the maori myths. the same story is preserved in servius's commentary on virgil.( ) a different legend is preserved in the etymologicum magnum (voc. ikonion). according to this story, after the deluge of deucalion, "zeus bade prometheus and athene make images of men out of clay, and the winds blew into them the breath of life". in confirmation of this legend, pausanias was shown in phocis certain stones of the colour of clay, and "smelling very like human flesh"; and these, according to the phocians, were "the remains of the clay from which the whole human race was fashioned by prometheus".( ) ( ) ovid. metam. i. . ( ) eclogue, vi. . ( ) pausanias, x. , . aristophanes, too, in the birds ( ) talks of men as (greek text omitted), figures kneaded of clay. thus there are sufficient traces in greek tradition of the savage myth that man was made of clay by some superior being, like pund-jel in the quaint australian story. we saw that among various rude races other theories of the origin of man were current. men were thought to have come out of a hole in the ground or a bed of reeds, and sometimes the very scene of their first appearance was still known and pointed out to the curious. this myth was current among races who regarded themselves as the only people whose origin needed explanation. other stories represented man as the fruit of a tree, or the child of a rock or stone, or as the descendant of one of the lower animals. examples of these opinions in greek legend are now to be given. in the first place, we have a fragment of pindar, in which the poet enumerates several of the centres from which different greek tribes believed men to have sprung. "hard it is to find out whether alalkomeneus, first of men, arose on the marsh of cephissus, or whether the curetes of ida first, a stock divine, arose, or if it was the phrygian corybantes that the sun earliest saw--men like trees walking;" and pindar mentions egyptian and libyan legends of the same description.( ) the thebans and the arcadians held themselves to be "earth-born". "the black earth bore pelasgus on the high wooded hills," says an ancient line of asius. the dryopians were an example of a race of men born from ash-trees. the myth of gens virum truncis et duro robore nata, "born of tree-trunk and the heart of oak," had passed into a proverb even in homer's time.( ) lucian mentions( ) the athenian myth "that men grew like cabbages out of the earth". as to greek myths of the descent of families from animals, these will be examined in the discussion of the legend of zeus. ( ) preller, aus. auf., p. . ( ) virgil aen., viii. ; odyssey, xix. ; iliad, ii. xxii. ; juvenal, vi. . cf. also bouche leclerq, de origine generis humani. ( ) philops. iii. chapter xi. savage divine myths. the origin of a belief in god beyond the ken of history and of speculation--sketch of conjectural theories--two elements in all beliefs, whether of backward or civilised races--the mythical and the religious--these may be coeval, or either may be older than the other--difficulty of study--the current anthropological theory--stated objections to the theory--gods and spirits--suggestion that savage religion is borrowed from europeans--reply to mr. tylor's arguments on this head--the morality of savages. "the question of the origin of a belief in deity does not come within the scope of a strictly historical inquiry. no man can watch the idea of god in the making or in the beginning. we are acquainted with no race whose beginning does not lie far back in the unpenetrated past. even on the hypothesis that the natives of australia, for example, were discovered in a state of culture more backward than that of other known races, yet the institutions and ideas of the australians must have required for their development an incalculable series of centuries. the notions of man about the deity, man's religious sentiments and his mythical narratives, must be taken as we find them. there have been, and are, many theories as to the origin of the conception of a supernatural being or beings, concerned with the fortunes of mankind, and once active in the making of the earth and its inhabitants. there is the hypothesis of an original divine tradition, darkened by the smoke of foolish mortal fancies. there is the hypothesis of an innate and intuitive sensus numinis. there is the opinion that the notion of deity was introduced to man by the very nature of his knowledge and perceptions, which compel him in all things to recognise a finite and an infinite. there is the hypothesis that gods were originally ghosts, the magnified shapes of ancestral spectres. there is the doctrine that man, seeking in his early speculations for the causes of things, and conscious of his own powers as an active cause, projected his own shadow on the mists of the unknown, and peopled the void with figures of magnified non-natural men, his own parents and protectors, and the makers of many of the things in the world. "since the actual truth cannot be determined by observation and experiment, the question as to the first germs of the divine conception must here be left unanswered. but it is possible to disengage and examine apart the two chief elements in the earliest as in the latest ideas of godhead. among the lowest and most backward, as among the most advanced races, there coexist the mythical and the religious elements in belief. the rational factor (or what approves itself to us as the rational factor) is visible in religion; the irrational is prominent in myth. the australian, the bushman, the solomon islander, in hours of danger and necessity 'yearns after the gods,' and has present in his heart the idea of a father and friend. this is the religious element. the same man, when he comes to indulge his fancy for fiction, will degrade this spiritual friend and father to the level of the beasts, and will make him the hero of comic or repulsive adventures. this is the mythical or irrational element. religion, in its moral aspect, always traces back to the belief in a power that is benign and works for righteousness. myth, even in homer or the rig-veda, perpetually falls back on the old stock of absurd and immoral divine adventures.( ) ( ) m. knappert here, in a note to the dutch translation, denies the lowest mythical element to the hebrews, as their documents have reached us. "it would be rash, in the present state of knowledge, to pronounce that the germ of the serious homeric sense of the justice and power of the divinity is earlier or later than the germ of the homeric stories of gods disguised as animals, or imprisoned by mortals, or kicked out of olympus. the rational and irrational aspects of mythology and religion may be of coeval antiquity for all that is certainly known, or either of them, in the dark backward of mortal experience, may have preceded the other. there is probably no religion nor mythology which does not offer both aspects to the student. but it is the part of advancing civilisation to adorn and purify the rational element, and to subordinate and supersede the irrational element, as far as religious conservatism, ritual and priestly dogma will permit." such were the general remarks with which this chapter opened in the original edition of the present work. but reading, reflection and certain additions to the author's knowledge of facts, have made it seem advisable to state, more fully and forcibly than before, that, in his opinion, not only the puzzling element of myth, but the purer element of a religious belief sanctioning morality is derived by civilised people from a remote past of savagery. it is also necessary to draw attention to a singular religious phenomena, a break, or "fault," as geologists call it, in the religious strata. while the most backward savages, in certain cases, present the conception of a being who sanctions ethics, and while that conception recurs at a given stage of civilisation, it appears to fade, or even to disappear in some conditions of barbarism. among some barbaric peoples, such as the zulus, and the red indians of french canada when first observed, as among some polynesians and some tribes of western and central africa little trace of a supreme being is found, except a name, and that name is even occasionally a matter of ridicule. the highest religious conception has been reached, and is generally known, yet the being conceived of as creative is utterly neglected, while ghosts, or minor gods, are served and adored. to this religious phenomenon (if correctly observed) we must attempt to assign a cause. for this purpose it is necessary to state again what may be called the current or popular anthropological theory of the evolution of gods. that theory takes varying shapes. in the philosophy of mr. herbert spencer we find a pure euhemerism. gods are but ghosts of dead men, raised to a higher and finally to the highest power. in the somewhat analogous but not identical system of mr. tylor, man first attains to the idea of spirit by reflection on various physical, psychological and psychical experiences, such as sleep, dreams, trances, shadows, hallucinations, breath and death, and he gradually extends the conception of soul or ghost till all nature is peopled with spirits. of these spirits one is finally promoted to supremacy, where the conception of a supreme being occurs. in the lowest faiths there is said, on this theory, to be no connection, or very little connection, between religion and morality. to supply a religious sanction of morals is the work of advancing thought.( ) ( ) prim. cult., ii. . huxley's science and hebrew tradition, pp. , . this current hypothesis is, confessedly, "animistic," in mr. tylor's phrase, or, in mr. spencer's terminology, it is "the ghost theory". the human soul, says mr. tylor, has been the model on which all man's ideas of spiritual beings, from "the tiniest elf" to "the heavenly creator and ruler of the world, the great spirit," have been framed.( ) thus it has been necessary for mr. tylor and for mr. spencer to discover first an origin of man's idea of his own soul, and that supposed origin in psychological, physical and psychical experiences is no doubt adequate. by reflection on these facts, probably, the idea of spirit was reached, though the psychical experiences enumerated by mr. tylor may contain points as yet unexplained by materialism. from these sources are derived all really "animistic" gods, all that from the first partake of the nature of hungry ghosts, placated by sacrifices of food, though in certain cases that hunger may have been transferred, we surmise, by worshippers to gods not originally animistic. ( ) prim. cult., ii. in answer to this theory of an animistic or ghostly origin of all gods, it must first be observed that all gods are not necessarily, it would seem, of animistic origin. among certain of the lowest savages, although they believe in ghosts, the animistic conception, the spiritual idea, is not attached to the relatively supreme being of their faith. he is merely a powerful being, unborn, and not subject to death. the purely metaphysical question "was he a ghost?" does not seem always to have been asked. consequently there is no logical reason why man's idea of a maker should not be prior to man's idea that there are such things as souls, ghosts and spirits. therefore the animistic theory is not necessary as material for the "god-idea". we cannot, of course, prove that the "god-idea" was historically prior to the "ghost-idea," for we know no savages who have a god and yet are ignorant of ghosts. but we can show that the idea of god may exist, in germ, without explicitly involving the idea of spirit. thus gods may be prior in evolution to ghosts, and therefore the animistic theory of the origin of gods in ghosts need not necessarily be accepted. in the first place, the original evolution of a god out of a ghost need not be conceded, because in perhaps all known savage theological philosophy the god, the maker and master, is regarded as a being who existed before death entered the world. everywhere, practically speaking, death is looked on as a comparatively late intruder. he came not only after god was active, but after men and beasts had populated the world. scores of myths accounting for this invasion of death have been collected all over the world.( ) thus the relatively supreme being, or beings, of religion are looked on as prior to death, therefore, not as ghosts. they are sometimes expressly distinguished as "original gods" from other gods who are secondary, being souls of chiefs. thus all tongan gods are atua, but all atua are not "original gods".( ) the word atua, according to mr. white, is "a-tu-a". "a" was the name given to the author of the universe, and signifies: "am the unlimited in power," "the conception," "the leader," "the beyond all". "tua" means "beyond that which is most distant," "behind all matter," and "behind every action". clearly these conceptions are not more mythical (indeed a does not seem to occur in the myths), nor are they more involved in ghosts, than the unknown absolute of mr. herbert spencer. yet the word atua denotes gods who are recognised as ghosts of chiefs, no less than it denotes the supreme existence.( ) these ideas are the metaphysical theology of a race considerably above the lowest level. they lend no assistance to a theory that a was, or was evolved out of, a human ghost, and he is not found in maori mythology as far as our knowledge goes. but, among the lowest known savages, the australians, we read that "the creator was a gigantic black, once on earth, now among the stars". this is in gippsland; the deities of the fuegians and the blackfoot indians are also beings, anthropomorphic, unborn and undying, like mangarrah, the creative being of the larrakeah tribe in australia. "a very good man called mangarrah lives in the sky.... he made everything" (blacks excepted). he never dies.( ) the melanesian vui "never were men," were "something different," and "were not ghosts". it is as a being, not as a spirit, that the kurnai deity munganngaur (our father) is described.( ) in short, though europeans often speak of these divine beings of low savages as "spirits," it does not appear that the natives themselves advance here the metaphysical idea of spirit. these gods are just beings, anthropomorphic, or (in myth and fable), very often bestial, "theriomorphic".( ) it is manifest that a divine being envisaged thus need not have been evolved out of the theory of spirits or ghosts, and may even have been prior to the rise of the belief in ghosts. ( ) see modern mythology, "myths of origin of death". ( ) mariner, ii. . ( ) white, ancient history of the maoris, vol. i. p. ; other views in gill's myths of the pacific. i am not committed to mr. white's opinion. ( ) journal anthrop. inst., nov., , p. . ( ) ibid., , p. . ( ) see making of religion, pp. - , for a more copious statement. again, these powerful, or omnipotent divine beings are looked on as guardians of morality, punishers of sin, rewarders of righteousness, both in this world and in a future life, in places where ghosts, though believed in, are not worshipped, nor in receipt of sacrifice, and where, great grandfathers being forgotten, ancestral ghosts can scarcely swell into gods. this occurs among andamanese, fuegians and australians, therefore, among non-ghost-worshipping races, ghosts cannot have developed into deities who are not even necessarily spirits. these gods, again, do not receive sacrifice, and thus lack the note of descent from hungry food-craving ghosts. in australia, indeed, while ghosts are not known to receive any offerings, "the recent custom of providing food for it"--the dead body of a friend--"is derided by the intelligent old aborigines as 'white fellow's gammon'".( ) ( ) dawson, australian aborigines, p. , . the australians possess no chiefs like "vich ian vohr or chingachgook" whose ghosts might be said to swell into supreme moral deities. "headmen" they have, leaders of various degrees of authority, but no vich ian vohr, no semi-sacred representative of the tribe.( ) nor are the ghosts of the headmen known to receive any particular posthumous attention or worship. thus it really seems impossible to show proof that australian gods grew out of australian ghosts, a subject to which we shall return. ( ) howitt, organisation of australian tribes, pp. - . "transactions of royal society of victoria," . some supporters of the current theory therefore fall back on the hypothesis that the australians are sadly degenerate.( ) chiefs, it is argued, or kings, they once had, and the gods are surviving ghosts of these wholly forgotten potentates. to this we reply that we know not the very faintest trace of australian degeneration. sir john lubbock and mr. tylor have correctly argued that the soil of australia has not yet yielded so much as a fragment of native pottery, nor any trace of native metal work, not a vestige of stone buildings occurs, nor of any work beyond the present native level of culture, unless we reckon weirs for fish-catching. "the australian boomerang," writes mr. tylor, "has been claimed as derived from some hypothetical high culture, whereas the transition-stages through which it is connected with the club are to be observed in its own country, while no civilised race possesses the weapon."( ) ( ) see prof. menzie's history of religion, pp. , , where a singular inconsistency has escaped the author. ( ) prim. cult., i. , . therefore the australian, with his boomerang, represents no degeneration but advance on his ancestors, who had not yet developed the boomerang out of the club. if the excessively complex nature of australian rules of prohibited degrees be appealed to as proof of degeneration from the stage in which they were evolved, we reply that civilisation everywhere tends not to complicate but to simplify such rules, as it also notoriously simplifies the forms of language. the australian people, when discovered, were only emerging from palaeolithic culture, while the neighbouring tasmanians were frankly palaeolithic.( ) far from degenerating, the australians show advance when they supersede their beast or other totem by an eponymous human hero.( ) the eponymous hero, however, changed with each generation, so that no one name was fixed as that of tribal father, later perhaps to become a tribal god. we find several tribes in which the children now follow the father's class, and thus paternal kin takes the place of the usual early savage method of reckoning kinship by the mother's side, elsewhere prevalent in australia. in one of these tribes, dwelling between the glenelg and mount napier, headmanship is hereditary, but nothing is said of any worship of the ghosts of chiefs. all this social improvement denotes advance on the usual australian standard.( ) of degeneration (except when produced recently by european vices and diseases) i know no trace in australia. their highest religious conceptions, therefore, are not to be disposed of as survivals of a religion of the ghosts of such chiefs as the australians are not shown ever to have recognised. the "god idea" in australia, or among the andamanese, must have some other source than the ghost-theory. this is all the more obvious because not only are ghosts not worshipped by the australians, but also the divine beings who are alleged to form links between the ghost and the moral god are absent. there are no departmental gods, as of war, peace, the chase, love, and so forth. sun, sky and earth are equally unworshipped. there is nothing in religion between a being, on one hand (with a son or sons), and vague mischievous spirits, boilyas or mrarts, and ghosts (who are not worshipped), on the other hand. the friends of the idea that the god is an ancient evolution from the ghost of such a chief as is not proved to have existed, must apparently believe that the intermediate stages in religious evolution, departmental gods, nature gods and gods of polytheism in general once existed in australia, and have all been swept away in a deluge of degeneration. that deluge left in religion a moral, potently active father and judge. now that conception is considerably above the obsolescent belief in an otiose god which is usually found among barbaric races of the type from which the australians are said to have degenerated. there is no proof of degeneracy, and, if degeneration has occurred, why has it left just the kind of deity who, in the higher barbaric culture, is not commonly found? clearly this attempt to explain the highest aspect of australian religion by an undemonstrated degeneration is an effort of despair. ( ) tylor, preface to ling roth's aborigines of tasmania, pp. v.-viii. ( ) kamilaroi and kurnai, p. . ( ) kamilaroi and kurnai, pp. , . while the current theory thus appears to break down over the deities of certain australian tribes and of other low savages to be more particularly described later, it is not more successful in dealing with what we have called the "fault" or break in the religious strata of higher races. the nature of that "fault" may thus be described: while the deities of several low savage peoples are religiously regarded as guardians and judges of conduct both in this life and in the next, among higher barbarians they are often little, or not at all, interested in conduct. again, while among australians, and andamanese, and fuegians, there is hardly a verifiable trace, if any trace there be, of sacrifice to any divine being, among barbarians the gods beneath the very highest are in receipt even of human sacrifice. even among barbarians the highest deity is very rarely worshipped with sacrifice. through various degrees he is found to lose all claim on worship, and even to become a mere name, and finally a jest and a mockery. meanwhile ancestral ghosts, and gods framed on the same lines as ghosts, receive sacrifice of food and of human victims. once more, the high gods of low savages are not localised, not confined to any temple or region. but the gods of higher barbarians (the gods beneath the highest), are localised in this way, as occasionally even the highest god also is. all this shows that, among advancing barbarians, the gods, if they started from the estate of gods among savages on the lowest level, become demoralised, limited, conditioned, relegated to an otiose condition, and finally deposed, till progressive civilisation, as in greece, reinstates or invents purer and more philosophic conceptions, without being able to abolish popular and priestly myth and ritual. here, then, is a flaw or break in the strata of religion. what was the cause of this flaw? we answer, the evolution, through ghosts, of "animistic" gods who retained the hunger and selfishness of these ancestral spirits whom the lowest savages are not known to worship. the moral divine beings of these lowest races, beings (when religiously regarded) unconditioned, in need of no gift that man can give, are not to be won by offerings of food and blood. of such offerings ghosts, and gods modelled on ghosts, are notoriously in need. strengthened and propitiated by blood and sacrifice (not offered to the gods of low savages), the animistic deities will become partisans of their adorers, and will either pay no regard to the morals of their worshippers, or will be easily bribed to forgive sins. here then is, ethically speaking, a flaw in the strata of religion, a flaw found in the creeds of ghost-worshipping barbarians, but not of non-ghost-worshipping savages. a crowd of venal, easy-going, serviceable deities has now been evolved out of ghosts, and animism is on its way to supplant or overlay a rude early form of theism. granting the facts, we fail to see how they are explained by the current theory which makes the highest god the latest in evolution from a ghost. that theory wrecks itself again on the circumstance that, whereas the tribal or national highest divine being, as latest in evolution, ought to be the most potent, he is, in fact, among barbaric races, usually the most disregarded. a new idea, of course, is not necessarily a powerful or fashionable idea. it may be regarded as a "fad," or a heresy, or a low form of dissent. but, when universally known to and accepted by a tribe or people, then it must be deemed likely to possess great influence. but that is not the case; and among barbaric tribes the most advanced conception of deity is the least regarded, the most obsolete. an excellent instance of the difference between the theory here advocated, and that generally held by anthropologists, may be found in mr. abercromby's valuable work, pre-and proto-historic finns, i. - . the gods, and other early ideas, says mr. abercromby, "could in no sense be considered as supernatural". we shall give examples of gods among the races "nearest the beginning," whose attributes of power and knowledge can not, by us at least, be considered other than "supernatural". "the gods" (in this hypothesis) "were so human that they could be forced to act in accordance with the wishes of their worshippers, and could likewise be punished." these ideas, to an australian black, or an andamanese, would seem dangerously blasphemous. these older gods "resided chiefly in trees, wells, rivers and animals". but many gods of our lowest known savages live "beyond the sky". mr. abercromby supposes the sky god to be of later evolution, and to be worshipped after man had exhausted "the helpers that seemed nearest at hand... in the trees and waters at his very door". now the australian black has not a door, nor has he gods of any service to him in the "trees and waters," though sprites may lurk in such places for mischief. but in mr. abercromby's view, some men turned at last to the sky-god, "who in time would gain a large circle of worshippers". he would come to be thought omnipotent, omniscient, the creator. this notion, says mr. abercromby, "must, if this view is correct, be of late origin". but the view is not correct. the far-seeing powerful maker beyond the sky is found among the very backward races who have not developed helpers nearer man, dwelling round what would be his door, if door he was civilised enough to possess. such near neighbouring gods, of human needs, capable of being bullied, or propitiated by sacrifice, are found in races higher than the lowest, who, for their easily procurable aid, have allowed the maker to sink into an otiose god, or a mere name. mr. abercromby unconsciously proves our case by quoting the example of a samoyede. this man knew a sky-god, num; that conception was familiar to him. he also knew a familiar spirit. on mr. abercromby's theory he should have resorted for help to the sky-god, not to the sprite. but he did the reverse: he said, "i cannot approach num, he is too far away; if i could reach him i should not beseech thee (the familiar spirit), but should go myself; but i cannot". for this precise reason, people who have developed the belief in accessible affable spirits go to them, with a spell to constrain, or a gift to bribe, and neglect, in some cases almost forget, their maker. but he is worshipped by low savages, who do not propitiate ghosts and who have no gods in wells and trees, close at hand. it seems an obvious inference that the greater god is the earlier evolved. these are among the difficulties of the current anthropological theory. there is, however, a solution by which the weakness of the divine conception, its neglected, disused aspect among barbaric races, might be explained by anthropologists, without regarding it as an obsolescent form of a very early idea. this solution is therefore in common use. it is applied to the deity revealed in the ancient mysteries of the australians, and it is employed in american and african instances. the custom is to say that the highest divine being of american or african native peoples has been borrowed from europeans, and is, especially, a savage refraction from the god of missionaries. if this can be proved, the shadowy, practically powerless "master of life" of certain barbaric peoples, will have degenerated from the christian conception, because of that conception he will be only a faint unsuccessful refraction. he has been introduced by europeans, it is argued, but is not in harmony with his new environment, and so is "half-remembered and half forgot". the hypothesis of borrowing admits of only one answer, but that answer should be conclusive. if we can discover, say in north america, a single instance in which the supreme being occurs, while yet he cannot possibly be accounted for by any traceable or verifiable foreign influence, then the burden of proof, in other cases, falls on the opponent. when he urges that other north american supreme beings were borrowed, we can reply that our crucial example shows that this need not be the fact. to prove that it is the fact, in his instances, is then his business. it is obvious that for information on this subject we must go to the reports of the earliest travellers who knew the red indians well. we must try to get at gods behind any known missionary efforts. mr. tylor offers us the testimony of heriot, about , that the natives of virginia believed in many gods, also in one chief god, "who first made other principal gods, and then the sun, moon and stars as petty gods".( ) whence could the natives of virginia have borrowed this notion of a creator before ? if it is replied, in the usual way, that they developed him upwards out of sun, moon and star gods, other principal gods, and finally reached the idea of the creator, we answer that the idea of the maker is found where these alleged intermediate stages are not found, as in australia. in virginia then, as in victoria, a creator may have been evolved in some other way than that of gradual ascent from ghosts, and may have been, as in australia and elsewhere, prior to verifiable ghost-worship. again, in virginia at our first settlement, the native priests strenuously resisted the introduction of christianity. they were content with their deity, ahone, "the great god who governs all the world, and makes the sun to shine, creating the moon and stars his companions.... the good and peaceable god... needs not to be sacrificed unto, for he intendeth all good unto them." this good creator, without sacrifice, among a settled agricultural barbaric race sacrificing to other gods and ghosts, manifestly cannot be borrowed from the newly arrived religion of christianity, which his priests, according to the observer, vigorously resisted. ahone had a subordinate deity, magisterial in functions, "looking into all men's actions" and punishing the same, when evil. to this god sacrifices were made, and if his name, okeus, is derived from oki = "spirit," he was, of course, an animistic ghost-evolved deity. anthropological writers, by an oversight, have dwelt on oki, but have not mentioned ahone.( ) manifestly it is not possible to insist that these virginian high deities were borrowed, without saying whence and when they were borrowed by a barbaric race which was, at the same time, rejecting christian teaching. ( ) prim. cult., ii. . ( ) history of travaile into virginia, by william strachey, . mr. tylor writes, with his habitual perspicacity: "it is the widespread belief in the great spirit, whatever his precise nature and origin, that has long and deservedly drawn the attention of european thinkers to the native religions of the north american tribes". now while, in recent times, christian ideas may undeniably have crystallised round "the great spirit," it has come to be thought "that the whole doctrine of the great spirit was borrowed by the savages from missionaries and colonists. but this view will not bear examination," says mr. tylor.( ) ( ) prim. cult, ii. pp. , ( ). for some reason, mr. tylor modifies this passage in . mr. tylor proceeds to prove this by examples from greenland, and the algonkins. he instances the massachusett god, kiehtan, who created the other gods, and receives the just into heaven. this was recorded in , but the belief, says winslow, our authority, goes back into the unknown past. "they never saw kiehtan, but they hold it a great charge and duty that one age teach another." how could a deity thus rooted in a traditional past be borrowed from recent english settlers? in these cases the hypothesis of borrowing breaks down, and still more does it break down over the algonkin deity atahocan. father le jeune, s.j., went first among the algonkins, a missionary pioneer, in , and suffered unspeakable things in his courageous endeavour to win souls in a most recalcitrant flock. he writes ( ): "as this savage has given me occasion to speak of their god, i will remark that it is a great error to think that the savages have no knowledge of any deity. i was surprised to hear this in france. i do not know their secrets, but, from the little which i am about to tell, it will be seen that they have such knowledge. "they say that one exists whom they call atahocan, who made the whole. speaking of god in a wigwam one day, they asked me 'what is god?' i told them that it was he who made all things, heaven and earth. they then began to cry out to each other, 'atahocan! atahocan! it is atahocan!'" there could be no better evidence that atahocan was not (as is often said) "borrowed from the jesuits". the jesuits had only just arrived. later ( ) le jeune interrogated an old man and a partly europeanised sorcerer. they replied that nothing was certain; that atahocan was only spoken of as "of a thing so remote," that assurance was impossible. "in fact, their word nitatohokan means, 'i fable, i tell an old story'." thus atahocan, though at once recognised as identical with the creator of the missionary, was so far from being the latest thing in religious evolution that he had passed into a proverb for the ancient and the fabulous. this, of course, is inconsistent with recent borrowing. he was neglected for khichikouai, spirits which inspire seers, and are of some practical use, receiving rewards in offerings of grease, says le jeune.( ) ( ) relations, , . the obsolescent atahocan seems to have had no moral activity. but, in america, this indolence of god is not universal. mr. parkman indeed writes: "in the primitive indian's conception of a god, the idea of moral good has no part".( ) but this is definitely contradicted by heriot, strachey, winslow, already cited, and by pere le jeune. the good attributes of kiehtan and ahone were not borrowed from christianity, were matter of indian belief before the english arrived. mr. parkman writes: "the moment the indians began to contemplate the object of his faith, and sought to clothe it with attributes, it became finite, and commonly ridiculous". it did so, as usual, in mythology, but not in religion. there is nothing ridiculous in what is known of ahone and kiehtan. if they had a mythology, and if we knew the myths, doubtless they would be ridiculous enough. the savage mind, turned from belief and awe into the spinning of yarns, instantly yields to humorous fancy. as we know, mediaeval popular christianity, in imagery, marchen or tales, and art, copiously illustrates the same mental phenomenon. saints, god, our lord, and the virgin, all play ludicrous and immoral parts in christian folk-tales. this is mythology, and here is, beyond all cavil, a late corruption of religion. here, where we know the history of a creed, religion is early, and these myths are late. other examples of american divine ideas might be given, such as the extraordinary hymns in which the zunis address the eternal, ahonawilona. but as the zuni religion has only been studied in recent years, the hymns would be dismissed as "borrowed," though there is nothing catholic or christian about them. we have preferred to select examples where borrowing from christianity is out of the question. the current anthropological theory is thus confronted with american examples of ideas of the divine which cannot have been borrowed, while, if the gods are said to have been evolved out of ghosts, we reply that, in some cases, they receive no sacrifice, sacrifice being usually a note of ghostly descent. again, similar gods, as we show, exist where ghosts of chiefs are not worshipped, and as far as evidence goes never were worshipped, because there is no evidence of the existence at any time of such chiefs. the american highest gods may then be equally free from the taint of ghostly descent. ( ) parkman, the jesuits in north america. p. lxxviii. there is another more or less moral north american deity whose evolution is rather questionable. pere brebeuf ( ), speaking of the hurons, says that "they have recourse to heaven in almost all their necessities,... and i may say that it is, in fact, god whom they blindly adore, for they imagine that there is an oki, that is, a demon, in heaven, who regulates the seasons, bridles the winds and the waves of the sea, and helps them in every need. they dread his wrath, and appeal to him as witness to the inviolability of their faith, when they make a promise or treaty of peace with enemies. 'heaven hear us to-day' is their form of adjuration."( ) ( ) relations, , pp. , . a spiritual being, whose home is heaven, who rides on the winds, whose wrath is dreaded, who sanctions the oath, is only called "a demon" by the prejudice of the worthy father who, at the same time, admits that the savages have a conception of god--and that god, so conceived, is this demon! the debatable question is, was the "demon," or the actual expanse of sky, first in evolution? that cannot precisely be settled, but in the analogous chinese case of china we find heaven (tien) and "shang-ti, the personal ruling deity," corresponding to the huron "demon". shang-ti, the personal deity, occurs most in the oldest, pre-confucian sacred documents, and, so far, appears to be the earlier conception. the "demon" in huron faith may also be earlier than the religious regard paid to his home, the sky.( ) the unborrowed antiquity of a belief in a divine being, creative and sometimes moral, in north america, is thus demonstrated. so far i had written when i accidentally fell in with mr. tylor's essay on "the limits of savage religion".( ) in that essay, rather to my surprise, mr. tylor argues for the borrowing of "the great spirit," "the great manitou," from the jesuits. now, as to the phrase, "great spirit," the jesuits doubtless caused its promulgation, and, where their teaching penetrated, shreds of their doctrine may have adhered to the indian conception of that divine being. but mr. tylor in his essay does not allude to the early evidence, his own, for oki, atahocan, kiehtan, and torngursak, all undeniably prior to jesuit influence, and found where jesuits, later, did not go. as mr. tylor offers no reason for disregarding evidence in which he had republished in a new edition of primitive culture in , it is impossible to argue against him in this place. he went on, in the essay cited ( ) to contend that the australian god of the kamilaroi of victoria, baiame, is, in name and attributes, of missionary introduction. happily this hypothesis can be refuted, as we show in the following chapter on australian gods. ( ) see tylor, prim. cult., ii. , and making of religion, p. ; also menzies, history of religion, pp. , , and dr. legge's chinese classics, in sacred books of the east, vols. iii., xxvii., xxviii. ( ) journ. of anthrop. inst., vol. xxi., . it would be easy enough to meet the hypothesis of borrowing in the case of the many african tribes who possess something approaching to a rude monotheistic conception. among these are the dinkas of the upper nile, with their neighbours, whose creed russegger compares to that of modern deists in europe. the dinka god, dendid, is omnipotent, but so benevolent that he is not addressed in prayer, nor propitiated by sacrifice. compare the supreme being of the caribs, beneficent, otiose, unadored.( ) a similar deity, veiled in the instruction of the as yet unpenetrated mysteries, exists among the yao of central africa.( ) of the negro race, waitz says, "even if we do not call them monotheists, we may still think of them as standing on the boundary of monotheism despite their innumerable rude superstitions".( ) the tshi speaking people of the gold coast have their unworshipped nyankupon, a now otiose unadored being, with a magisterial deputy, worshipped with many sacrifices. the case is almost an exact parallel to that of ahone and oki in america. these were not borrowed, and the author has argued at length against major ellis's theory of the borrowing from christians of nyankupon.( ) ( ) rochefort, les isles antilles, p. . tylor, ii. . ( ) macdonald, africana, , , , , - . scott, dictionary of the manganja language, making of religion, pp. - . a contradictory view in spencer, ecclesiastical institutions, p. . ( ) anthropologie, ii. . ( ) making of religion, pp. - . to conclude this chapter, the study of savage and barbaric religions seems to yield the following facts:-- . low savages. no regular chiefs. great beings, not in receipt of sacrifice, sanctioning morality. ghosts are not worshipped, though believed in. polytheism, departmental gods and gods of heaven, earth, sky and so forth, have not been developed or are not found. . barbaric races. aristocratic or monarchic. ghosts are worshipped and receive sacrifice. polytheistic gods are in renown and receive sacrifice. there is usually a supreme maker who is, in some cases, moral, in others otiose. in only one or two known cases (as in that of the polynesian taaroa) is he in receipt of sacrifice. . barbaric races. (zulus, monarchic with unkulunkulu; some algonquins (feebly aristocratic) with atahocan). religion is mainly ancestor worship or vague spirit worship; ghosts are propitiated with food. there are traces of an original divine being whose name is becoming obsolescent and a matter of jest. . early civilisations. monarchic or aristocratic. (greece, egypt, india, peru, mexico.) polytheism. one god tends to be supreme. religiously regarded, gods are moral; in myth are the reverse. gods are in receipt of sacrifice. heavenly society is modelled on that of men, monarchic or aristocratic. philosophic thought tends towards belief in one pure god, who may be named zeus, in greece. . the religion of israel. probably a revival and purification of the old conception of a moral, beneficent creator, whose creed had been involved in sacrifice and anthropomorphic myth. in all the stages thus roughly sketched, myths of the lowest sort prevail, except in the records of the last stage, where the documents have been edited by earnest monotheists. if this theory be approximately correct, man's earliest religious ideas may very well have consisted, in a sense, of dependence on a supreme moral being who, when attempts were made by savages to describe the modus of his working, became involved in the fancies of mythology. how this belief in such a being arose we have no evidence to prove. we make no hint at a sensus numinis, or direct revelation. while offering no hypothesis of the origin of belief in a moral creator we may present a suggestion. mr. darwin says about early man: "the same high mental faculties which first led man to believe in unseen spiritual agencies, then in fetichism, polytheism and ultimately monotheism, would infallibly lead him, so long as his reasoning powers remained poorly developed, to various strange superstitions and customs".( ) now, accepting mr. darwin's theory that early man had "high mental faculties," the conception of a maker of things does not seem beyond his grasp. man himself made plenty of things, and could probably conceive of a being who made the world and the objects in it. "certainly there must be some being who made all these things. he must be very good too," said an eskimo to a missionary.( ) the goodness is inferred by the eskimo from his own contentment with "the things which are made".( ) ( ) darwin, descent of man, i. p. . ( ) cranz, i. . ( ) romans, i. . another example of barbaric man "seeking after god" may be adduced. what the greenlander said is corroborated by what a kaffir said. kaffir religion is mainly animistic, ancestral spirits receive food and sacrifice--there is but an evanescent tradition of a "lord in heaven". thus a very respectable kaffir said to m. arbrousset, "your tidings (christianity) are what i want; and i was seeking before i knew you.... i asked myself sorrowful questions. 'who has touched the stars with his hands?... who makes the waters flow?... who can have given earth the wisdom and power to produce corn?' then i buried my face in my hands." "this," says sir john lubbock, "was, however, an exceptional case. as a general rule savages do not set themselves to think out such questions."( ) ( ) origin of civilisation, p. . as a common fact, if savages never ask the question, at all events, somehow, they have the answer ready made. "mangarrah, or baiame, puluga, or dendid, or ahone, or ahonawilona, or atahocan, or taaroa, or tui laga, was the maker." therefore savages who know that leave the question alone, or add mythical accretions. but their ancestors must have asked the question, like the "very respectable kaffir" before they answered it. having reached the idea of a creator, it was not difficult to add that he was "good," or beneficent, and was deathless. a notion of a good powerful maker, not subject to death because necessarily prior to death (who only invaded the world late), seems easier of attainment than the notion of spirit which, ex hypothesi, demands much delicate psychological study and hard thought. the idea of a good maker, once reached, becomes, perhaps, the germ of future theism, but, as mr. darwin says, the human mind was "infallibly led to various strange superstitions". as st. paul says, in perfect agreement with mr. darwin on this point, "they became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened". among other imaginations (right or wrong) was the belief in spirits, with all that followed in the way of instituting sacrifices, even of human beings, and of dropping morality, about which the ghost of a deceased medicine-man was not likely to be much interested. the supposed nearness to man, and the venal and partial character of worshipped gods and ghost-gods, would inevitably win for them more service and attention than would be paid to a maker remote, unbought and impartial. hence the conception of such a being would tend to obsolescence, as we see that it does, and would be most obscured where ghosts were most propitiated, as among the zulus. later philosophy would attach the spiritual conception to the revived or newly discovered idea of the supreme god. in all this speculation there is nothing mystical; no supernatural or supernormal interference is postulated. supernormal experiences may have helped to originate or support the belief in spirits, that, however, is another question. but this hypothesis of the origin of belief in a good unceasing maker of things is, of course, confessedly a conjecture, for which historical evidence cannot be given, in the nature of the case. all our attempts to discover origins far behind history must be conjectural. their value must be estimated by the extent to which this or that hypothesis colligates the facts. now our hypothesis does colligate the facts. it shows how belief in a moral supreme being might arise before ghosts were worshipped, and it accounts for the flaw in the religious strata, for the mythical accretions, for the otiose creator in the background of many barbaric religions, and for the almost universal absence of sacrifice to the god relatively supreme. he was, from his earliest conception, in no need of gifts from men. on this matter of otiose supreme gods, professor menzies writes, "it is very common to find in savage beliefs a vague far-off god, who is at the back of all the others, takes little part in the management of things, and receives little worship. but it is impossible to judge what that being was at an earlier time; he may have been a nature god, or a spirit who has by degrees grown faint, and come to occupy this position." now the position which he occupies is usually, if not universally, that of the creator. he could not arrive at this rank by "becoming faint," nor could "a nature-god" be the maker of nature. the only way by which we can discover "what that being was at an earlier time" is to see what he is at an earlier time, that is to say, what the conception of him is, among men in an earlier state of culture. among them, as we show, he is very much more near, potent and moral, than among races more advanced in social evolution and material culture. we can form no opinion as to the nature of such "vague, far-off gods, at the back of all the others," till we collect and compare examples, and endeavour to ascertain what points they have in common, and in what points they differ from each other. it then becomes plain that they are least far away, and most potent, where there is least ghostly and polytheistic competition, that is, among the most backward races. the more animism the less theism, is the general rule. manifestly the current hypothesis--that all religion is animistic in origin--does not account for these facts, and is obliged to fly to an undemonstrated theory of degradation, or to an undemonstrated theory of borrowing. that our theory is inconsistent with the general doctrine of evolution we cannot admit, if we are allowed to agree with mr. darwin's statement about the high mental faculties which first led man to sympathetic, and then to wild beliefs. we do not pretend to be more darwinian than mr. darwin, who compares "these miserable and indirect results of our higher faculties" to "the occasional mistakes of the instincts of the lower animals". the opinion here maintained, namely, that a germ of pure belief may be detected amidst the confusion of low savage faith, and that in a still earlier stage it may have been less overlaid with fable, is in direct contradiction to current theories. it is also in contradiction with the opinions entertained by myself before i made an independent examination of the evidence. like others, i was inclined to regard reports of a moral creator, who observes conduct, and judges it even in the next life, as rumours due either to christian influence, or to mistake. i well know, however, and could, and did, discount the sources of error. i was on my guard against the twin fallacies of describing all savage religion as "devil worship," and of expecting to find a primitive "divine tradition". i was also on my guard against the modern bias derived from the "ghost-theory," and mr. spencer's works, and i kept an eye on opportunities of "borrowing".( ) i had, in fact, classified all known idola in the first edition of this work, such as the fallacy of leading questions and the chance of deliberate deception. i sought the earliest evidence, prior to any missionary teaching, and the evidence of what the first missionaries found, in the way of belief, on their arrival. i preferred the testimony of the best educated observers, and of those most familiar with native languages. i sought for evidence in native hymns (maori, zuni, dinka, red indian) and in native ceremonial and mystery, as these sources were least likely to be contaminated. ( ) making of religion, p. . on the other side, i found a vast body of testimony that savages had no religion at all. but that testimony, en masse, was refuted by roskoff, and also, in places, by tylor. when three witnesses were brought to swear that they saw the irishman commit a crime, he offered to bring a dozen witnesses who did not see him. negative evidence of squatters, sailors and colonists, who did not see any religion among this or that race, is not worth much against evidence of trained observers and linguists who did find what the others missed, and who found more the more they knew the tribe in question. again, like others, i thought savages incapable of such relatively pure ideas as i now believe some of them to possess. but i could not resist the evidence, and i abandoned my a priori notions. the evidence forcibly attests gradations in the central belief. it is found in various shades, from relative potency down to a vanishing trace, and it is found in significant proportion to the prevalence of animistic ideas, being weakest where they are most developed, strongest where they are least developed. there must be a reason for these phenomena, and that reason, as it seems to me, is the overlaying and supersession of a rudely theistic by an animistic creed. that one cause would explain, and does colligate, all the facts. there remains a point on which misconception proves to be possible. it will be shown, contrary to the current hypothesis, that the religion of the lowest races, in its highest form, sanctions morality. that morality, again, in certain instances, demands unselfishness. of course we are not claiming for that doctrine any supernatural origin. religion, if it sanctions ethics at all, will sanction those which the conscience accepts, and those ethics, in one way or other, must have been evolved. that the "cosmical" law is "the weakest must go to the wall" is generally conceded. man, however, is found trying to reverse the law, by equal and friendly dealing (at least within what is vaguely called "the tribe"). his religion, as in australia, will be shown to insist on this unselfishness. how did he evolve his ethics? "be it little or be it much they get," says dampier about the australians in , "every one has his part, as well the young and tender as the old and feeble, who are not able to get abroad as the strong and lusty." this conduct reverses the cosmical process, and notoriously civilised society, christian society, does not act on these principles. neither do the savages, who knock the old and feeble on the head, or deliberately leave them to starve, act on these principles, sanctioned by australian religion, but (according to mr. dawson) not carried out in australian practice. "when old people become infirm... it is lawful and customary to kill them."( ) ( ) australian aborigines, p. . as to the point of unselfishness, evolutionists are apt to account for it by common interest. a tribe in which the strongest monopolise what is best will not survive so well as an unselfish tribe in the struggle for existence. but precisely the opposite is true, aristocracy marks the more successful barbaric races, and an aristocratic slave-holding tribe could have swept australia as the zulus swept south africa. that aristocracy and acquisition of separate property are steps in advance on communistic savagery all history declares. therefore a tribe which in australia developed private property, and reduced its neighbours to slavery, would have been better fitted to survive than such a tribe as dampier describes. this is so evident that probably, or possibly, the dampier state of society was not developed in obedience to a recognised tribal interest, but in obedience to an affectionate instinct. "ils s'entr' aiment les une les autres," says brebeuf of the hurons.( ) "i never heard the women complain of being left out of feasts, or that the men ate the best portions... every one does his business sweetly, peaceably, without dispute. you never see disputes, quarrels, hatred, or reproach among them." brebeuf then tells how a young indian stranger, in a time of want, stole the best part of a moose. "they did not rage or curse, they only bantered him, and yet to take our meat was almost to take our lives." brebeuf wanted to lecture the lad; his indian host bade him hold his peace, and the stranger was given hospitality, with his wife and children. "they are very generous, and make it a point not to attach themselves to the goods of this world." "their greatest reproach is 'that man wants everything, he is greedy'. they support, with never a murmur, widows, orphans and old men, yet they kill hopeless or troublesome invalids, and their whole conduct to europeans was the reverse of their domestic behaviour." ( ) relations, , p. . another example of savage unselfish ethics may be found in mr. mann's account of the andaman islanders, a nomad race, very low in culture. "it is a noteworthy trait, and one which deserves high commendation, that every care and consideration are paid by all classes to the very young, the weak, the aged, and the helpless, and these being made special objects of interest and attention, invariably fare better in regard to the comforts and necessaries of daily life than any of the otherwise more fortunate members of the community."( ) ( ) j. a. i., xii. p. . mr. huxley, in his celebrated romanes lecture on "evolution and morality," laid stress on man's contravention of the cosmic law, "the weakest must go to the wall". he did not explain the evolution of man's opposition to this law. the ordinary evolutionist hypothesis, that the tribe would prosper most whose members were least self-seeking, is contradicted by all history. the overbearing, "grabbing," aristocratic, individualistic, unscrupulous races beat the others out of the field. mr. huxley, indeed, alleged that the "influence of the cosmic process in the evolution of society is the greater the more rudimentary its civilisation. social progress means a checking of the cosmic process at every step and the substitution for it of another, which may be called the ethical process.... as civilisation has advanced, so has the extent of this interference increased...."( ) but where, in europe, is the interference so marked as among the andamanese? we have still to face the problem of the generosity of low savages. ( ) ethics of evolution, pp. - . it is conceivable that the higher ethics of low savages rather reflect their emotional instincts than arise from tribal legislation which is supposed to enable a "tribe" to prosper in the struggle for existence. as brebeuf and dampier, among others, prove, savages often set a good example to christians, and their ethics are, in certain cases, as among the andamanese and fuegians, and, probably among the yao, sanctioned by their religion. but, as mr. tylor says, "the better savage social life seems but in unstable equilibrium, liable to be easily upset by a touch of distress, temptation, or violence".( ) still, religion does its best, in certain cases, to lend equilibrium; though all the world over, religion often fails in practice. ( ) prim. cult., i. . transcribed from the longmans, green, and co. edition by david price, email ccx @coventry.ac.uk modern mythology dedication dedicated to the memory of john fergus mclennan. introduction it may well be doubted whether works of controversy serve any useful purpose. 'on an opponent,' as mr. matthew arnold said, 'one never does make any impression,' though one may hope that controversy sometimes illuminates a topic in the eyes of impartial readers. the pages which follow cannot but seem wandering and desultory, for they are a reply to a book, mr. max muller's contributions to the science of mythology, in which the attack is of a skirmishing character. throughout more than eight hundred pages the learned author keeps up an irregular fire at the ideas and methods of the anthropological school of mythologists. the reply must follow the lines of attack. criticism cannot dictate to an author how he shall write his own book. yet anthropologists and folk-lorists, 'agriologists' and 'hottentotic' students, must regret that mr. max muller did not state their general theory, as he understands it, fully and once for all. adversaries rarely succeed in quite understanding each other; but had mr. max muller made such a statement, we could have cleared up anything in our position which might seem to him obscure. our system is but one aspect of the theory of evolution, or is but the application of that theory to the topic of mythology. the archaeologist studies human life in its material remains; he tracks progress (and occasional degeneration) from the rudely chipped flints in the ancient gravel beds, to the polished stone weapon, and thence to the ages of bronze and iron. he is guided by material 'survivals'--ancient arms, implements, and ornaments. the student of institutions has a similar method. he finds his relics of the uncivilised past in agricultural usages, in archaic methods of allotment of land, in odd marriage customs, things rudimentary--fossil relics, as it were, of an early social and political condition. the archaeologist and the student of institutions compare these relics, material or customary, with the weapons, pottery, implements, or again with the habitual law and usage of existing savage or barbaric races, and demonstrate that our weapons and tools, and our laws and manners, have been slowly evolved out of lower conditions, even out of savage conditions. the anthropological method in mythology is the same. in civilised religion and myth we find rudimentary survivals, fossils of rite and creed, ideas absolutely incongruous with the environing morality, philosophy, and science of greece and india. parallels to these things, so out of keeping with civilisation, we recognise in the creeds and rites of the lower races, even of cannibals; but _there_ the creeds and rites are _not_ incongruous with their environment of knowledge and culture. there they are as natural and inevitable as the flint-headed spear or marriage by capture. we argue, therefore, that religions and mythical faiths and rituals which, among greeks and indians, are inexplicably incongruous have lived on from an age in which they were natural and inevitable, an age of savagery. that is our general position, and it would have been a benefit to us if mr. max muller had stated it in his own luminous way, if he wished to oppose us, and had shown us where and how it fails to meet the requirements of scientific method. in place of doing this once for all, he often assails our evidence, yet never notices the defences of our evidence, which our school has been offering for over a hundred years. he attacks the excesses of which some sweet anthropological enthusiasts have been guilty or may be guilty, such as seeing totems wherever they find beasts in ancient religion, myth, or art. he asks for definitions (as of totemism), but never, i think, alludes to the authoritative definitions by mr. mclennan and mr. frazer. he assails the theory of fetishism as if it stood now where de brosses left it in a purely pioneer work--or, rather, where he understands de brosses to have left it. one might as well attack the atomic theory where lucretius left it, or the theory of evolution where it was left by the elder darwin. thus mr. max muller really never conies to grips with his opponents, and his large volumes shine rather in erudition and style than in method and system. anyone who attempts a reply must necessarily follow mr. max muller up and down, collecting his scattered remarks on this or that point at issue. hence my reply, much against my will, must seem desultory and rambling. but i have endeavoured to answer with some kind of method and system, and i even hope that this little book may be useful as a kind of supplement to mr. max muller's, for it contains exact references to certain works of which he takes the reader's knowledge for granted. the general problem at issue is apt to be lost sight of in this guerilla kind of warfare. it is perhaps more distinctly stated in the preface to mr. max muller's chips from a german workshop, vol. iv. (longmans, ), than in his two recent volumes. the general problem is this: has language--especially language in a state of 'disease,' been the great source of the mythology of the world? or does mythology, on the whole, represent the survival of an old stage of thought--not caused by language--from which civilised men have slowly emancipated themselves? mr. max muller is of the former, anthropologists are of the latter, opinion. both, of course, agree that myths are a product of thought, of a kind of thought almost extinct in civilised races; but mr. max muller holds that language caused that kind of thought. we, on the other hand, think that language only gave it one means of expressing itself. the essence of myth, as of fairy tale, we agree, is the conception of the things in the world as all alike animated, personal, capable of endless interchanges of form. men may become beasts; beasts may change into men; gods may appear as human or bestial; stones, plants, winds, water, may speak and act like human beings, and change shapes with them. anthropologists demonstrate that the belief in this universal kinship, universal personality of things, which we find surviving only in the myths of civilised races, is even now to some degree part of the living creed of savages. civilised myths, then, they urge, are survivals from a parallel state of belief once prevalent among the ancestors of even the aryan race. but how did this mental condition, this early sort of false metaphysics, come into existence? we have no direct historical information on the subject. if i were obliged to offer an hypothesis, it would be that early men, conscious of personality, will, and life--conscious that force, when exerted by themselves, followed on a determination of will within them--extended that explanation to all the exhibitions of force which they beheld without them. rivers run (early man thought), winds blow, fire burns, trees wave, as a result of their own will, the will of personal conscious entities. such vitality, and even power of motion, early man attributed even to inorganic matter, as rocks and stones. all these things were beings, like man himself. this does not appear to me an unnatural kind of nascent, half-conscious metaphysics. 'man never knows how much he anthropomorphises.' he extended the only explanation of his own action which consciousness yielded to him, he extended it to explain every other sort of action in the sensible world. early greek philosophy recognised the stars as living bodies; all things had once seemed living and personal. from the beginning, man was eager causas cognoscere rerum. the only cause about which self-consciousness gave him any knowledge was his own personal will. he therefore supposed all things to be animated with a like will and personality. his mythology is a philosophy of things, stated in stories based on the belief in universal personality. my theory of the origin of that belief is, of course, a mere guess; we have never seen any race in the process of passing from a total lack of a hypothesis of causes into that hypothesis of universally distributed personality which is the basis of mythology. but mr. max muller conceives that this belief in universally distributed personality (the word 'animism' is not very clear) was the result of an historical necessity--not of speculation, but of language. 'roots were all, or nearly all, expressive of action. . . . hence a river could only be called or conceived as a runner, or a roarer, or a defender; and in all these capacities always as something active and animated, nay, as something masculine or feminine.' but _why_ conceived as 'masculine or feminine'? this necessity for endowing inanimate though active things, such as rivers, with sex, is obviously a necessity of a stage of thought wholly unlike our own. _we_ know that active inanimate things are sexless, are neuter; _we_ feel no necessity to speak of them as male or female. how did the first speakers of the human race come to be obliged to call lifeless things by names connoting sex, and therefore connoting, not only activity, but also life and personality? we explain it by the theory that man called lifeless things male or female--by using gender-terminations--as a result of his habit of regarding lifeless things as personal beings; that habit, again, being the result of his consciousness of himself as a living will. mr. max muller takes the opposite view. man did not call lifeless things by names denoting sex because he regarded them as persons; he came to regard them as persons because he had already given them names connoting sex. and why had he done that? this is what mr. max muller does not explain. he says: 'in ancient languages every one of these words' (sky, earth, sea, rain) 'had necessarily' (why necessarily?) 'a termination expressive of gender, and this naturally produced in the mind the corresponding idea of sex, so that these names received not only an individual but a sexual character.' { a} it is curious that, in proof apparently of this, mr. max muller cites a passage from the printer's register, in which we read that to little children '_everything_ is _alive_. . . . the same instinct that prompts the child to personify everything remains unchecked in the savage, and grows up with him to manhood. hence in all simple and early languages there are but two genders, masculine and feminine.' the printer's register states our theory in its own words. first came the childlike and savage belief in universal personality. thence arose the genders, masculine and feminine, in early languages. these ideas are the precise reverse of mr. max muller's ideas. in his opinion, genders in language caused the belief in the universal personality even of inanimate things. the printer's register holds that the belief in universal personality, on the other hand, caused the genders. yet for thirty years, since , mr. max muller has been citing his direct adversary, in the printer's register, as a supporter of his opinion! we, then, hold that man thought all things animated, and expressed his belief in gender-terminations. mr. max muller holds that, because man used gender-terminations, therefore he thought all things animated, and so he became mythopoeic. in the passage cited, mr. max muller does not say _why_ 'in ancient languages every one of these words had _necessarily_ terminations expressive of gender.' he merely quotes the hypothesis of the printer's register. if he accepts that hypothesis, it destroys his own theory--that gender-terminations caused all things to be regarded as personal; for, ex hypothesi, it was just because they were regarded as personal that they received names with gender-terminations. somewhere--i cannot find the reference--mr. max muller seems to admit that personalising thought caused gender-terminations, but these later 'reacted' on thought, an hypothesis which multiplies causes praeter necessitatem. here, then, at the very threshold of the science of mythology we find mr. max muller at once maintaining that a feature of language, gender-terminations, caused the mythopoeic state of thought, and quoting with approval the statement that the mythopoeic state of thought caused gender-terminations. mr. max muller's whole system of mythology is based on reasoning analogous to this example. his mot d'ordre, as professor tiele says, is 'a disease of language.' this theory implies universal human degradation. man was once, for all we know, rational enough; but his mysterious habit of using gender-terminations, and his perpetual misconceptions of the meaning of old words in his own language, reduced him to the irrational and often (as we now say) obscene and revolting absurdities of his myths. here (as is later pointed out) the objection arises, that all languages must have taken the disease in the same way. a maori myth is very like a greek myth. if the greek myth arose from a disease of greek, how did the wholly different maori speech, and a score of others, come to have precisely the same malady? mr. max muller alludes to a maori parallel to the myth of cronos. { b} 'we can only say that there is a rusty lock in new zealand, and a rusty lock in greece, and that, surely, is very small comfort.' he does not take the point. the point is that, as the myth occurs in two remote and absolutely unconnected languages, a theory of disease of language cannot turn the wards of the rusty locks. the myth is, in part at least, a nature-myth--an attempt to account for the severance of heaven and earth (once united) by telling a story in which natural phenomena are animated and personal. a disease of language has nothing to do with this myth. it is cited as a proof against the theory of disease of language. the truth is, that while languages differ, men (and above all early men) have the same kind of thoughts, desires, fancies, habits, institutions. it is not that in which all races formally differ--their language--but that in which all early races are astonishingly the same--their ideas, fancies, habits, desires--that causes the amazing similarity of their myths. mythologists, then, who find in early human nature the living ideas which express themselves in myths will hardily venture to compare the analogous myths of all peoples. mythologists, on the other hand, who find the origin of myths in a necessity imposed upon thought by misunderstood language will necessarily, and logically, compare only myths current among races who speak languages of the same family. thus, throughout mr. max muller's new book we constantly find him protesting, on the whole and as a rule, against the system which illustrates aryan myths by savage parallels. thus he maintains that it is perilous to make comparative use of myths current in languages--say, maori or samoyed--which the mythologists confessedly do not know. to this we can only reply that we use the works of the best accessible authorities, men who do know the languages--say, dr. codrington or bishop callaway, or castren or egede. now it is not maintained that the myths, on the whole, are incorrectly translated. the danger which we incur, it seems, is ignorance of the original sense of savage or barbaric divine or heroic names--say, maui, or yehl, or huitzilopochhtli, or heitsi eibib, or pundjel. by mr. max muller's system such names are old words, of meanings long ago generally lost by the speakers of each language, but analysable by 'true scholars' into their original significance. that will usually be found by the philologists to indicate 'the inevitable dawn,' or sun, or night, or the like, according to the taste and fancy of the student. to all this a reply is urged in the following pages. in agreement with curtius and many other scholars, we very sincerely doubt almost all etymologies of old proper names, even in greek or sanskrit. we find among philologists, as a rule, the widest discrepancies of interpretation. moreover, every name must mean _something_. now, whatever the meaning of a name (supposing it to be really ascertained), very little ingenuity is needed to make it indicate one or other aspect of dawn or night, of lightning or storm, just as the philologist pleases. then he explains the divine or heroic being denoted by the name--as dawn or storm, or fire or night, or twilight or wind--in accordance with his private taste, easily accommodating the facts of the myth, whatever they may be, to his favourite solution. we rebel against this kind of logic, and persist in studying the myth in itself and in comparison with analogous myths in every accessible language. certainly, if divine and heroic names--artemis or pundjel--_can_ be interpreted, so much is gained. but the myth may be older than the name. as mr. hogarth points out, alexander has inherited in the remote east the myths of early legendary heroes. we cannot explain these by the analysis of the name of alexander! even if the heroic or divine name can be shown to be the original one (which is practically impossible), the meaning of the name helps us little. that zeus means 'sky' cannot conceivably explain scores of details in the very composite legend of zeus--say, the story of zeus, demeter, and the ram. moreover, we decline to admit that, if a divine name means 'swift,' its bearer must be the wind or the sunlight. nor, if the name means 'white,' is it necessarily a synonym of dawn, or of lightning, or of clear air, or what not. but a mythologist who makes language and names the fountain of myth will go on insisting that myths can only be studied by people who know the language in which they are told. mythologists who believe that human nature is the source of myths will go on comparing all myths that are accessible in translations by competent collectors. mr. max muller says, 'we seldom find mythology, as it were, in situ--as it lived in the minds and unrestrained utterances of the people. we generally have to study it in the works of mythographers, or in the poems of later generations, when it had long ceased to be living and intelligible.' the myths of greece and rome, in hyginus or ovid, 'are likely to be as misleading as a hortus siccus would be to a botanist if debarred from his rambles through meadows and hedges.' { c} nothing can be more true, or more admirably stated. these remarks are, indeed, the charter, so to speak, of anthropological mythology and of folklore. the old mythologists worked at a hortus siccus, at myths dried and pressed in thoroughly literary books, greek and latin. but we now study myths 'in the unrestrained utterances of the people,' either of savage tribes or of the european folk, the unprogressive peasant class. the former, and to some extent the latter, still live in the mythopoeic state of mind--regarding bees, for instance, as persons who must be told of a death in the family. their myths are still not wholly out of concord with their habitual view of a world in which an old woman may become a hare. as soon as learned jesuits like pere lafitau began to understand their savage flocks, they said, 'these men are living in ovid's metamorphoses.' they found mythology in situ! hence mythologists now study mythology in situ--in savages and in peasants, who till very recently were still in the mythopoeic stage of thought. mannhardt made this idea his basis. mr. max muller says, { d} very naturally, that i have been 'popularising the often difficult and complicated labours of mannhardt and others.' in fact (as is said later), i published all my general conclusions before i had read mannhardt. quite independently i could not help seeing that among savages and peasants we had mythology, not in a literary hortus siccus, but in situ. mannhardt, though he appreciated dr. tylor, had made, i think, but few original researches among savage myths and customs. his province was european folklore. what he missed will be indicated in the chapter on 'the fire-walk'--one example among many. but this kind of mythology in situ, in 'the unrestrained utterances of the people,' mr. max muller tells us, is no province of his. 'i saw it was hopeless for me to gain a knowledge at first hand of innumerable local legends and customs;' and it is to be supposed that he distrusted knowledge acquired by collectors: grimm, mannhardt, campbell of islay, and an army of others. 'a scholarlike knowledge of maori or hottentot mythology' was also beyond him. we, on the contrary, take our maori lore from a host of collectors: taylor, white, manning ('the pakeha maori'), tregear, polack, and many others. from them we flatter ourselves that we get--as from grimm, mannhardt, islay, and the rest--mythology in situ. we compare it with the dry mythologic blossoms of the classical hortus siccus, and with greek ritual and temple legend, and with marchen in the scholiasts, and we think the comparisons very illuminating. they have thrown new light on greek mythology, ritual, mysteries, and religion. this much we think we have already done, though we do not know maori, and though each of us can hope to gather but few facts from the mouths of living peasants. examples of the results of our method will be found in the following pages. thus, if the myth of the fire-stealer in greece is explained by misunderstood greek or sanskrit words in no way connected with robbery, we shall show that the myth of the theft of fire occurs where no greek or sanskrit words were ever spoken. _there_, we shall show, the myth arose from simple inevitable human ideas. we shall therefore doubt whether in greece a common human myth had a singular cause--in a 'disease of language.' it is with no enthusiasm that i take the opportunity of mr. max muller's reply to me 'by name.' since myth, ritual, and religion (now out of print, but accessible in the french of m. marillier) was published, ten years ago, i have left mythology alone. the general method there adopted has been applied in a much more erudite work by mr. frazer, the golden bough, by mr. farnell in cults of the greek states, by mr. jevons in his introduction to the history of religion, by miss harrison in explanations of greek ritual, by mr. hartland in the legend of perseus, and doubtless by many other writers. how much they excel me in erudition may be seen by comparing mr. farnell's passage on the bear artemis { e} with the section on her in this volume. mr. max muller observes that 'mannhardt's mythological researches have never been fashionable.' they are now very much in fashion; they greatly inspire mr. frazer and mr. farnell. 'they seemed to me, and still seem to me, too exclusive,' says mr. max muller. { f} mannhardt in his second period was indeed chiefly concerned with myths connected, as he held, with agriculture and with tree-worship. mr. max muller, too, has been thought 'exclusive'--'as teaching,' he complains, 'that the whole of mythology is solar.' that reproach arose, he says, because 'some of my earliest contributions to comparative mythology were devoted exclusively to the special subject of solar myths.' { g} but mr. max muller also mentions his own complaints, of 'the omnipresent sun and the inevitable dawn appearing in ever so many disguises.' did they really appear? were the myths, say the myths of daphne, really solar? that is precisely what we hesitate to accept. in the same way mannhardt's preoccupation with vegetable myths has tended, i think, to make many of his followers ascribe vegetable origins to myths and gods, where the real origin is perhaps for ever lost. the corn-spirit starts up in most unexpected places. mr. frazer, mannhardt's disciple, is very severe on solar theories of osiris, and connects that god with the corn- spirit. but mannhardt did not go so far. mannhardt thought that the myth of osiris was solar. to my thinking, these resolutions of myths into this or that original source--solar, nocturnal, vegetable, or what not--are often very perilous. a myth so extremely composite as that of osiris must be a stream flowing from many springs, and, as in the case of certain rivers, it is difficult or impossible to say which is the real fountain-head. one would respectfully recommend to young mythologists great reserve in their hypotheses of origins. all this, of course, is the familiar thought of writers like mr. frazer and mr. farnell, but a tendency to seek for exclusively vegetable origins of gods is to be observed in some of the most recent speculations. i well know that i myself am apt to press a theory of totems too far, and in the following pages i suggest reserves, limitations, and alternative hypotheses. il y a serpent et serpent; a snake tribe may be a local tribe named from the snake river, not a totem kindred. the history of mythology is the history of rash, premature, and exclusive theories. we are only beginning to learn caution. even the prevalent anthropological theory of the ghost-origin of religion might, i think, be advanced with caution (as mr. jevons argues on other grounds) till we know a little more about ghosts and a great deal more about psychology. we are too apt to argue as if the psychical condition of the earliest men were exactly like our own; while we are just beginning to learn, from prof. william james, that about even our own psychical condition we are only now realising our exhaustive ignorance. how often we men have thought certain problems settled for good! how often we have been compelled humbly to return to our studies! philological comparative mythology seemed securely seated for a generation. her throne is tottering: our little systems have their day, they have their day and cease to be, they are but broken lights from thee, and thou, we trust, art more than they. but we need not hate each other for the sake of our little systems, like the grammarian who damned his rival's soul for his 'theory of the irregular verbs.' nothing, i hope, is said here inconsistent with the highest esteem for mr. max muller's vast erudition, his enviable style, his unequalled contributions to scholarship, and his awakening of that interest in mythological science without which his adversaries would probably never have existed. most of chapter xii. appeared in the 'contemporary review,' and most of chapter xiii. in the 'princeton review.' regent mythology mythology in - between and , roughly speaking, english people interested in early myths and religions found the mythological theories of professor max muller in possession of the field. these brilliant and attractive theories, taking them in the widest sense, were not, of course, peculiar to the right hon. professor. in france, in germany, in america, in italy, many scholars agreed in his opinion that the science of language is the most potent spell for opening the secret chamber of mythology. but while these scholars worked on the same general principle as mr. max muller, while they subjected the names of mythical beings--zeus, helen, achilles, athene--to philological analysis, and then explained the stories of gods and heroes by their interpretations of the meanings of their names, they arrived at all sorts of discordant results. where mr. max muller found a myth of the sun or of the dawn, these scholars were apt to see a myth of the wind, of the lightning, of the thunder-cloud, of the crepuscule, of the upper air, of what each of them pleased. but these ideas--the ideas of kuhn, welcker, curtius (when he appeared in the discussion), of schwartz, of lauer, of breal, of many others--were very little known--if known at all--to the english public. captivated by the graces of mr. max muller's manner, and by a style so pellucid that it accredited a logic perhaps not so clear, the public hardly knew of the divisions in the philological camp. they were unaware that, as mannhardt says, the philological school had won 'few sure gains,' and had discredited their method by a 'muster-roll of variegated' and discrepant 'hypotheses.' now, in all sciences there are differences of opinion about details. in comparative mythology there was, with rare exceptions, no agreement at all about results beyond this point; greek and sanskrit, german and slavonic myths were, in the immense majority of instances, to be regarded as mirror-pictures on earth, of celestial and meteorological phenomena. thus even the story of the earth goddess, the harvest goddess, demeter, was usually explained as a reflection in myth of one or another celestial phenomenon--dawn, storm-cloud, or something else according to taste. again, greek or german myths were usually to be interpreted by comparison with myths in the rig veda. their origin was to be ascertained by discovering the aryan root and original significance of the names of gods and heroes, such as saranyu--erinnys, daphne--dahana, athene--ahana. the etymology and meaning of such names being ascertained, the origin and sense of the myths in which the names occur should be clear. clear it was not. there were, in most cases, as many opinions as to the etymology and meaning of each name and myth, as there were philologists engaged in the study. mannhardt, who began, in , as a member of the philological school, in his last public utterance ( ) described the method and results, including his own work of , as 'mainly failures.' but, long ere that, the english cultivated public had, most naturally, accepted mr. max muller as the representative of the school which then held the field in comparative mythology. his german and other foreign brethren, with their discrepant results, were only known to the general, in england (i am not speaking of english scholars), by the references to them in the oxford professor's own works. his theories were made part of the education of children, and found their way into a kind of popular primers. for these reasons, anyone in england who was daring enough to doubt, or to deny, the validity of the philological system of mythology in general was obliged to choose mr. max muller as his adversary. he must strike, as it were, the shield of no hospitaler of unsteady seat, but that of the templar himself. and this is the cause of what seems to puzzle mr. max muller, namely the attacks on _his_ system and _his_ results in particular. an english critic, writing for english readers, had to do with the scholar who chiefly represented the philological school of mythology in the eyes of england. autobiographical like other inquiring undergraduates in the sixties, i read such works on mythology as mr. max muller had then given to the world; i read them with interest, but without conviction. the argument, the logic, seemed to evade one; it was purely, with me, a question of logic, for i was of course prepared to accept all of mr. max muller's dicta on questions of etymologies. even now i never venture to impugn them, only, as i observe that other scholars very frequently differ, toto caelo, from him and from each other in essential questions, i preserve a just balance of doubt; i wait till these gentlemen shall be at one among themselves. after taking my degree in , i had leisure to read a good deal of mythology in the legends of all races, and found my distrust of mr. max muller's reasoning increase upon me. the main cause was that whereas mr. max muller explained greek myths by etymologies of words in the aryan languages, chiefly greek, latin, slavonic, and sanskrit, i kept finding myths very closely resembling those of greece among red indians, kaffirs, eskimo, samoyeds, kamilaroi, maoris, and cahrocs. now if aryan myths arose from a 'disease' of aryan languages, it certainly did seem an odd thing that myths so similar to these abounded where non-aryan languages alone prevailed. did a kind of linguistic measles affect all tongues alike, from sanskrit to choctaw, and everywhere produce the same ugly scars in religion and myth? the ugly scars the ugly scars were the problem! a civilised fancy is not puzzled for a moment by a beautiful beneficent sun-god, or even by his beholding the daughters of men that they are fair. but a civilised fancy _is_ puzzled when the beautiful sun-god makes love in the shape of a dog. { } to me, and indeed to mr. max muller, the ugly scars were the problem. he has written--'what makes mythology mythological, in the true sense of the word, is what is utterly unintelligible, absurd, strange, or miraculous.' but he explained these blots on the mythology of greece, for example, as the result practically of old words and popular sayings surviving in languages after the original, harmless, symbolical meanings of the words and sayings were lost. what had been a poetical remark about an aspect of nature became an obscene, or brutal, or vulgar myth, a stumbling block to greek piety and to greek philosophy. to myself, on the other hand, it seemed that the ugly scars were remains of that kind of taste, fancy, customary law, and incoherent speculation which everywhere, as far as we know, prevails to various degrees in savagery and barbarism. attached to the 'hideous idols,' as mr. max muller calls them, of early greece, and implicated in a ritual which religious conservatism dared not abandon, the fables of perhaps neolithic ancestors of the hellenes remained in the religion and the legends known to plato and socrates. that this process of 'survival' is a vera causa, illustrated in every phase of evolution, perhaps nobody denies. thus the phenomena which the philological school of mythology explains by a disease of language we would explain by survival from a savage state of society and from the mental peculiarities observed among savages in all ages and countries. of course there is nothing new in this: i was delighted to discover the idea in eusebius as in fontenelle; while, for general application to singular institutions, it was a commonplace of the last century. { a} moreover, the idea had been widely used by dr. e. b. tylor in primitive culture, and by mr. mclennan in his primitive marriage and essays on totemism. my criticism of mr. max muller this idea i set about applying to the repulsive myths of civilised races, and to marchen, or popular tales, at the same time combating the theories which held the field--the theories of the philological mythologists as applied to the same matter. in journalism i criticised mr. max muller, and i admit that, when comparing the mutually destructive competition of varying etymologies, i did not abstain from the weapons of irony and _badinage_. the opportunity was too tempting! but, in the most sober seriousness, i examined mr. max muller's general statement of his system, his hypothesis of certain successive stages of language, leading up to the mythopoeic confusion of thought. it was not a question of denying mr. max muller's etymologies, but of asking whether he established his historical theory by evidence, and whether his inferences from it were logically deduced. the results of my examination will be found in the article 'mythology' in the encyclopaedia britannica, and in la mythologie. { b} it did not appear to me that mr. max muller's general theory was valid, logical, historically demonstrated, or self-consistent. my other writings on the topic are chiefly custom and myth, myth, ritual, and religion (with french and dutch translations, both much improved and corrected by the translators), and an introduction to mrs. hunt's translation of grimm's marchen. success of anthropological method during fifteen years the ideas which i advocated seem to have had some measure of success. this is, doubtless, due not to myself, but to the works of mr. j. g. frazer and of professor robertson smith. both of these scholars descend intellectually from a man less scholarly than they, but, perhaps, more original and acute than any of us, my friend the late mr. j. f. mclennan. to mannhardt also much is owed, and, of course, above all, to dr. tylor. these writers, like mr. farnell and mr. jevons recently, seek for the answer to mythological problems rather in the habits and ideas of the folk and of savages and barbarians than in etymologies and 'a disease of language.' there are differences of opinion in detail: i myself may think that 'vegetation spirits,' the 'corn spirit,' and the rest occupy too much space in the systems of mannhardt, and other moderns. mr. frazer, again, thinks less of the evidence for totems among 'aryans' than i was inclined to do. { } but it is not, perhaps, an overstatement to say that explanation of myths by analysis of names, and the lately overpowering predominance of the dawn, and the sun, and the night in mythological hypothesis, have received a slight check. they do not hold the field with the superiority which was theirs in england between and . this fact--a scarcely deniable fact--does not, of course, prove that the philological method is wrong, or that the dawn is not as great a factor in myth as mr. max muller believes himself to have proved it to be. science is inevitably subject to shiftings of opinion, action, and reaction. mr. max muller's reply in this state of things mr. max muller produces his contributions to the science of mythology, { } which i propose to criticise as far as it is, or may seem to me to be, directed against myself, or against others who hold practically much the same views as mine. i say that i attempt to criticise the book 'as far as it is, or may seem to me to be, directed against' us, because it is mr. max muller's occasional habit to argue (apparently) _around_ rather than _with_ his opponents. he says 'we are told this or that'--something which he does not accept--but he often does not inform us as to _who_ tells us, or where. thus a reader does not know whom mr. max muller is opposing, or where he can find the adversary's own statement in his own words. yet it is usual in such cases, and it is, i think, expedient, to give chapter and verse. occasionally i find that mr. max muller is honouring me by alluding to observations of my own, but often no reference is given to an opponent's name or books, and we discover the passages in question by accident or research. this method will be found to cause certain inconveniences. the story of daphne mr. max muller's method in controversy as an illustration of the author's controversial methods, take his observations on my alleged attempt to account for the metamorphosis of daphne into a laurel tree. when i read these remarks (i. p. ) i said, 'mr. max muller vanquishes me _there_,' for he gave no reference to my statement. i had forgotten all about the matter, i was not easily able to find the passage to which he alluded, and i supposed that i had said just what mr. max muller seemed to me to make me say--no more, and no less. thus: 'mr. lang, as usual, has recourse to savages, most useful when they are really wanted. he quotes an illustration from the south pacific that tuna, the chief of the eels, fell in love with ina and asked her to cut off his head. when his head had been cut off and buried, two cocoanut trees sprang up from the brain of tuna. how is this, may i ask, to account for the story of daphne? everybody knows that "stories of the growing of plants out of the scattered members of heroes may be found from ancient egypt to the wigwams of the algonquins," but these stories seem hardly applicable to daphne, whose members, as far as i know, were never either severed or scattered.' i thought, perhaps hastily, that i must have made the story of tuna 'account for the story of daphne.' mr. max muller does not actually say that i did so, but i understood him in that sense, and recognised my error. but, some guardian genius warning me, i actually hunted up my own observations. { a} well, i had never said (as i conceived my critic to imply) that the story of tuna 'accounts for the story of daphne.' that was what i had not said. i had observed, 'as to interchange of shape between men and women and _plants_, our information, so far as the lower races are concerned, is less copious'--than in the case of stones. i then spoke of plant totems of one kin with human beings, of plant-souls, { b} of indian and egyptian plants animated by _human_ souls, of a tree which became a young man and made love to a yurucari girl, of metamorphosis into vegetables in samoa, { c} of an ottawa myth in which a man became a plant of maize, and then of the story of tuna. { d} next i mentioned plants said to have sprung from dismembered gods and heroes. _all_ this, i said, _all_ of it, proves that savages mythically regard human life as on a level with vegetable no less than with animal life. 'turning to the mythology of greece, we see that the same rule holds good. metamorphosis into plants and flowers is extremely common,' and i, of course, attributed the original idea of such metamorphoses to 'the general savage habit of "levelling up,"' of regarding all things in nature as all capable of interchanging their identities. i gave, as classical examples, daphne, myrrha, hyacinth, narcissus, and the sisters of phaethon. next i criticised mr. max muller's theory of daphne. but i never hinted that the isolated mangaian story of tuna, or the stories of plants sprung from mangled men, 'accounted,' by themselves, 'for the story of daphne.' mr. max muller is not content with giving a very elaborate and interesting account of how the story of tuna arose (i. - ). he keeps tuna in hand, and, at the peroration of his vast work (ii. ), warns us that, before we compare myths in unrelated languages, we need 'a very accurate knowledge of their dialects . . . to prevent accidents like that of tuna mentioned in the beginning.' what accident? that i explained the myth of daphne by the myth of tuna? but that is precisely what i did not do. i explained the greek myth of daphne ( ) as a survival from the savage mental habit of regarding men as on a level with stones, beasts, and plants; or ( ) as a tale 'moulded by poets on the same model.' { } the latter is the more probable case, for we find daphne late, in artificial or mythographic literature, in ovid and hyginus. in ovid the river god, pentheus, changes daphne into a laurel. in hyginus she is not changed at all; the earth swallows her, and a laurel fills her place. now i really did believe--perhaps any rapid reader would have believed--when i read mr. max muller, that i must have tried to account for the story of daphne by the story of tuna. i actually wrote in the first draft of this work that i had been in the wrong. then i verified the reference which my critic did not give, with the result which the reader has perused. never could a reader have found out what i did really say from my critic, for he does not usually when he deals with me give chapter and verse. this may avoid an air of personal bickering, but how inconvenient it is! let me not be supposed to accuse mr. max muller of consciously misrepresenting me. of that i need not say that he is absolutely incapable. my argument merely took, in his consciousness, the form which is suggested in the passage cited from him. tuna and daphne to do justice to mr. max muller, i will here state fully his view of the story of tuna, and then go on to the story of daphne. for the sake of accuracy, i take the liberty of borrowing the whole of his statement (i. - ):-- 'i must dwell a little longer on this passage in order to show the real difference between the ethnological and the philological schools of comparative mythology. 'first of all, what has to be explained is not the growing up of a tree from one or the other member of a god or hero, but the total change of a human being or a heroine into a tree, and this under a certain provocation. these two classes of plant-legends must be carefully kept apart. secondly, what does it help us to know that people in mangaia believed in the change of human beings into trees, if we do not know the reason why? this is what we want to know; and without it the mere juxtaposition of stories apparently similar is no more than the old trick of explaining ignotum per ignotius. it leads us to imagine that we have learnt something, when we really are as ignorant as before. 'if mr. a. lang had studied the mangaian dialect, or consulted scholars like the rev. w. w. gill--it is from his "myths and songs from the south pacific" that he quotes the story of tuna--he would have seen that there is no similarity whatever between the stories of daphne and of tuna. the tuna story belongs to a very well known class of aetiological plant-stories, which are meant to explain a no longer intelligible name of a plant, such as snakeshead, stiefmutterchen, &c.; it is in fact a clear case of what i call disease of language, cured by the ordinary nostrum of folk-etymology. i have often been in communication with the rev. w. w. gill about these south pacific myths and their true meaning. the preface to his collection of myths and songs from the south pacific was written by me in ; and if mr. a. lang had only read the whole chapter which treats of these tree-myths (p. seq.), he would easily have perceived the real character of the tuna story, and would not have placed it in the same class as the daphne story; he would have found that the white kernel of the cocoanut was, in mangaia, called the "brains of tuna," a name like many more such names which after a time require an explanation. 'considering that "cocoanut" was used in mangaia in the sense of head (testa), the kernel or flesh of it might well be called the brain. if then the white kernel had been called tuna's brain, we have only to remember that in mangaia there are two kinds of cocoanut trees, and we shall then have no difficulty in understanding why these twin cocoanut trees were said to have sprung from the two halves of tuna's brain, one being red in stem, branches, and fruit, whilst the other was of a deep green. in proof of these trees being derived from the head of tuna, we are told that we have only to break the nut in order to see in the sprouting germ the two eyes and the mouth of tuna, the great eel, the lover of ina. for a full understanding of this very complicated myth more information has been supplied by mr. gill. ina means moon; ina-mae- aitu, the heroine of our story, means ina-who-had-a-divine (aitu) lover, and she was the daughter of kui, the blind. tuna means eel, and in mangaia it was unlawful for women to eat eels, so that even now, as mr. gill informs me, his converts turn away from this fish with the utmost disgust. from other stories about the origin of cocoanut trees, told in the same island, it would appear that the sprouts of the cocoanut were actually called eels' heads, while the skulls of warriors were called cocoanuts. 'taking all these facts together, it is not difficult to imagine how the story of tuna's brain grew up; and i am afraid we shall have to confess that the legend of tuna throws but little light on the legend of daphne or on the etymology of her name. no one would have a word to say against the general principle that much that is irrational, absurd, or barbarous in the veda is a survival of a more primitive mythology anterior to the veda. how could it be otherwise?' criticism of tuna and daphne now ( ), as to daphne, we are not invariably told that hers was a case of 'the total change of a heroine into a tree.' in ovid { } she is thus changed. in hyginus, on the other hand, the earth swallows her, and a tree takes her place. all the authorities are late. here i cannot but reflect on the scholarly method of mannhardt, who would have examined and criticised all the sources for the tale before trying to explain it. however, daphne was not mangled; a tree did not spring from her severed head or scattered limbs. she was metamorphosed, or was buried in earth, a tree springing up from the place. ( ) i think we do know _why_ the people of mangaia 'believe in the change of human beings into trees.' it is one among many examples of the savage sense of the intercommunity of all nature. 'antiquity made its division between man and the world in a very different sort than do the moderns.' { a} i illustrate this mental condition fully in m. r. r. i. - . _why_ savages adopt the major premise, 'human life is on a level with the life of all nature,' philosophers explain in various ways. hume regards it as an extension to the universe of early man's own consciousness of life and personality. dr. tylor thinks that the opinion rests upon 'a broad philosophy of nature.' { b} m. lefebure appeals to psychical phenomena as i show later (see 'fetishism'). at all events, the existence of these savage metaphysics is a demonstrated fact. i established it { c} before invoking it as an explanation of savage belief in metamorphosis. ( ) 'the tuna story belongs to a very well known class of aetiological plant-stories' (aetiological: assigning a cause for the plant, its peculiarities, its name, &c.), 'which are meant to explain a no longer intelligible name of a plant, &c.' i also say, 'these myths are nature- myths, so far as they attempt to account for a fact in nature--namely, for the existence of certain plants, and for their place in ritual.' { } the reader has before him mr. max muller's view. the white kernel of the cocoanut was locally styled 'the brains of tuna.' that name required explanation. hence the story about the fate of tuna. cocoanut was used in mangaia in the sense of 'head' (testa). so it is now in england. see bell's life, passim, as 'the chicken got home on the cocoanut.' the explanation on the whole, either cocoanut kernels were called 'brains of tuna' because 'cocoanut'='head,' and a head has brains--and, well, somehow i fail to see why brains of tuna in particular! or, there being a story to the effect that the first cocoanut grew out of the head of the metamorphosed tuna, the kernel was called his brains. but why was the story told, and why of tuna? tuna was an eel, and women may not eat eels; and ina was the moon, who, a mangaian selene, loved no latmian shepherd, but an eel. seriously, i fail to understand mr. max muller's explanation. given the problem, to explain a no longer intelligible plant-name--brains of tuna--(applied not to a plant but to the kernel of a nut), this name is explained by saying that the moon, ina, loved an eel, cut off his head at his desire, and buried it. thence sprang cocoanut trees, with a fanciful likeness to a human face--face of tuna--on the nut. but still, why tuna? how could the moon love an eel, except on my own general principle of savage 'levelling up' of all life in all nature? in my opinion, the mangaians wanted a fable to account for the resemblance of a cocoanut to the human head--a resemblance noted, as i show, in our own popular slang. the mangaians also knew the moon, in her mythical aspect, as ina; and tuna, whatever his name may mean (mr. max muller does not tell us), was an eel. { } having the necessary savage major premise in their minds, 'all life is on a level and interchangeable,' the mangaians thought well to say that the head-like cocoanut sprang from the head of her lover, an eel, cut off by ina. the myth accounts, i think, for the peculiarities of the cocoanut, rather than for the name 'brains of tuna;' for we still ask, 'why of tuna in particular? why tuna more than rangoa, or anyone else?' 'we shall have to confess that the legend of tuna throws but little light on the legend of daphne, or on the etymology of her name.' i never hinted that the legend of tuna threw light on the etymology of the name of daphne. mangaian and greek are not allied languages. nor did i give the tuna story as an explanation of the daphne story. i gave it as one in a mass of illustrations of the savage mental propensity so copiously established by dr. tylor in primitive culture. the two alternative explanations which i gave of the daphne story i have cited. no mention of tuna occurs in either. disease of language and folk-etymology the tuna story is described as 'a clear case of disease of language cured by the ordinary nostrum of folk-etymology.' the 'disease' showed itself, i suppose, in the presence of the mangaian words for 'brain of tuna.' but the story of tuna gives no folk-etymology of the name tuna. now, to give an etymology of a name of forgotten meaning is the sole object of folk- etymology. the plant-name, 'snake's head,' given as an example by mr. max muller, needs no etymological explanation. a story may be told to explain why the plant is called snake's head, but a story to give an etymology of snake's head is superfluous. the tuna story explains why the cocoanut kernel is called 'brains of tuna,' but it offers no etymology of tuna's name. on the other hand, the story that marmalade (really marmalet) is so called because queen mary found comfort in marmalade when she was sea-sick--hence marie-malade, hence _marmalade_--gives an etymological explanation of the origin of the _word_ marmalade. here is a real folk-etymology. we must never confuse such myths of folk-etymology with myths arising (on the philological hypothesis) from 'disease of language.' thus, daphne is a girl pursued by apollo, and changed into a daphne plant or laurel, or a laurel springs from the earth where she was buried. on mr. max muller's philological theory daphne=dahana, and meant 'the burning one.' apollo may be derived from a sanskrit form, *apa-var-yan, or *apa-val-yan (though how greeks ever heard a sanskrit word, if such a word as apa-val-yan ever existed, we are not told), and may mean 'one who opens the gate of the sky' (ii. - ). { } at some unknown date the ancestors of the greeks would say 'the opener of the gates of the sky (*apa-val-yan, i.e. the sun) pursues the burning one (dahana, i.e. the dawn).' the greek language would retain this poetic saying in daily use till, in the changes of speech, *apa-val-yan ceased to be understood, and became apollo, while dahana ceased to be understood, and became daphne. but the verb being still understood, the phrase ran, 'apollo pursues daphne.' now the greeks had a plant, laurel, called daphne. they therefore blended plant, daphne, and heroine's name, daphne, and decided that the phrase 'apollo pursues daphne' meant that apollo chased a nymph, daphne, who, to escape his love, turned into a laurel. i cannot give mr. max muller's theory of the daphne story more clearly. if i misunderstand it, that does not come from want of pains. in opposition to it we urge that ( ) the etymological equations, daphne=dahana, apollo=*apa-val-yan, are not generally accepted by other scholars. schroder, in fact, derives apollo 'from the vedic saparagenya, "worshipful," an epithet of agni,' who is fire (ii. ), and so on. daphne=dahana is no less doubted. of course a greek simply cannot be 'derived' from a sanskrit word, as is stated, though both may have a common origin, just as french is not 'derived from' italian. ( ) if the etymologies were accepted, no proof is offered to us of the actual existence, as a vera causa, of the process by which a saying. 'apollo pursues daphne,' remains in language, while the meaning of the words is forgotten. this process is essential, but undemonstrated. see the chapter here on 'the riddle theory.' ( ) these processes, if demonstrated, which they are not, must be carefully discriminated from the actual demonstrable process of folk-etymology. the marmalade legend gives the etymology of a word, marmalade; the daphne legend does not give an etymology. ( ) the theory of daphne is of the kind protested against by mannhardt, where he warns us against looking in most myths for a 'mirror-picture' on earth of celestial phenomena. { a} for these reasons, among others, i am disinclined to accept mr. max muller's attempt to explain the story of daphne. mannhardt on daphne since we shall presently find mr. max muller claiming the celebrated mannhardt as a sometime deserter of philological comparative mythology, who 'returned to his old colours,' i observe with pleasure that mannhardt is on my side and against the oxford professor. mannhardt shows that the laurel (daphne) was regarded as a plant which, like our rowan tree, averts evil influences. 'moreover, the laurel, like the maibaum, was looked on as a being with a spirit. this is the safest result which myth analysis can extract from the story of daphne, a nymph pursued by apollo and changed into a laurel. it is a result of the use of the laurel in his ritual.' { b} in , a year after mannhardt is said by mr. max muller to have returned to his old colours, he repeats this explanation. { a} in the same work (p. ) he says that 'there is no reason for accepting max muller's explanation about the sun-god and the dawn, wo jeder thatliche anhalt dafur fehlt.' for this opinion we might also cite the sanskrit scholars whitney and bergaigne. { b} the question of allies athanasius mr. max muller protests, most justly, against the statement that he, like st. athanasius, stands alone, contra mundum. if ever this phrase fell from my pen (in what connection i know not), it is as erroneous as the position of st. athanasius is honourable. mr. max muller's ideas, in various modifications, are doubtless still the most prevalent of any. the anthropological method has hardly touched, i think, the learned contributors to roscher's excellent mythological lexicon. dr. brinton, whose american researches are so useful, seems decidedly to be a member of the older school. while i do not exactly remember alluding to athanasius, i fully and freely withdraw the phrase. but there remain questions of allies to be discussed. italian critics mr. max muller asks, { } 'what would mr. andrew lang say if he read the words of signer canizzaro, in his "genesi ed evoluzione del mito" ( ), "lang has laid down his arms before his adversaries"?' mr. lang 'would smile.' and what would mr. max muller say if he read the words of professor enrico morselli, 'lang gives no quarter to his adversaries, who, for the rest, have long been reduced to silence'? { } the right hon. professor also smiles, no doubt. we both smile. solvuntur risu tabulae. a dutch defender the question of the precise attitude of professor tiele, the accomplished gifford lecturer in the university of edinburgh ( ), is more important and more difficult. his remarks were made in , in an essay on the myth of cronos, and were separately reprinted, in , from the 'revue de l'histoire des religions,' which i shall cite. where they refer to myself they deal with custom and myth, not with myth, ritual, and religion ( ). it seems best to quote, ipsissimis verbis, mr. max muller's comments on professor tiele's remarks. he writes (i. viii.): 'let us proceed next to holland. professor tiele, who had actually been claimed as an ally of the victorious army, declares:--"je dois m'elever, au nom de la science mythologique et de l'exactitude . . . centre une methode qui ne fait que glisser sur des problemes de premiere importance." (see further on, p. .) 'and again: '"ces braves gens qui, pour peu qu'ils aient lu un ou deux livres de mythologie et d'anthropologie, et un ou deux recits de voyages, ne manqueront pas de se mettre a comparer a tort et a travers, et pour tout resultat produiront la confusion."' again (i. ): 'besides signer canizzaro and mr. horatio hale, the veteran among comparative ethnologists, professor tiele, in his le mythe de kronos ( ), has very strongly protested against the downright misrepresentations of what i and my friends have really written. 'professor tiele had been appealed to as an unimpeachable authority. he was even claimed as an ally by the ethnological students of customs and myths, but he strongly declined that honour ( . c., p. ):- '"m. lang m'a fait 'honneur de me citer," he writes, "comme un de ses allies, et j'ai lieu de croire que m. gaidoz en fait en quelque mesure autant. ces messieurs n'ont point entierement tort. cependant je dois m'elever, au nom de la science mythologique et de 'exactitude dont elle ne peut pas plus se passer que les autres sciences, contre une methode qui ne fait que glisser sur des problemes de premiere importance," &c. 'speaking of the whole method followed by those who actually claimed to have founded a new school of mythology, he says (p. ):-- '"je crains toutefois que ce qui s'y trouve de vrai ne soit connu depuis longtemps, et que la nouvelle ecole ne peche par exclusionisme tout autant que les ainees qu'elle combat avec tant de conviction." 'that is exactly what i have always said. what is there new in comparing the customs and myths of the greeks with those of the barbarians? has not even plato done this? did anybody doubt that the greeks, nay even the hindus, were uncivilised or savages, before they became civilised or tamed? was not this common-sense view, so strongly insisted on by fontenelle and vico in the eighteenth century, carried even to excess by such men as de brosses ( - )? and have the lessons taught to de brosses by his witty contemporaries been quite forgotten? must his followers be told again and again that they ought to begin with a critical examination of the evidence put before them by casual travellers, and that mythology is as little made up of one and the same material as the crust of the earth of granite only?' reply professor tiele wrote in . i do not remember having claimed his alliance, though i made one or two very brief citations from his remarks on the dangers of etymology applied to old proper names. { a} to citations made by me later in professor tiele cannot be referring. { b} thus i find no proof of any claim of alliance put forward by me, but i do claim a right to quote the professor's published words. these i now translate:--{ c} 'what goes before shows adequately that i am an ally, much more than an adversary, of the new school, whether styled ethnological or anthropological. it is true that all the ideas advanced by its partisans are not so new as they seem. some of us--i mean among those who, without being vassals of the old school, were formed by it--had not only remarked already the defects of the reigning method, but had perceived the direction in which researches should be made; they had even begun to say so. this does not prevent the young school from enjoying the great merit of having first formulated with precision, and with the energy of conviction, that which had hitherto been but imperfectly pointed out. if henceforth mythological science marches with a firmer foot, and loses much of its hypothetical character, it will in part owe this to the stimulus of the new school.' 'braves gens' professor tiele then bids us leave our cries of triumph to the servum imitatorum pecus, braves gens, and so forth, as in the passage which mr. max muller, unless i misunderstand him, regards as referring to the 'new school,' and, notably, to m. gaidoz and myself, though such language ought not to apply to m. gaidoz, because he is a scholar. i am left to uncovenanted mercies. professor tiele on our merits the merits of the new school professor tiele had already stated:--{ } 'if i were reduced to choose between this method and that of comparative philology, i would prefer the former without the slightest hesitation. this method alone enables us to explain the fact, such a frequent cause of surprise, that the greeks like the germans . . . could attribute to their gods all manner of cruel, cowardly and dissolute actions. this method alone reveals the cause of all the strange metamorphoses of gods into animals, plants, and even stones. . . . in fact, this method teaches us to recognise in all these oddities the survivals of an age of barbarism long over-past, but lingering into later times, under the form of religious legends, the most persistent of all traditions. . . . this method, enfin, can alone help us to account for the genesis of myths, because it devotes itself to studying them in their rudest and most primitive shape. . . . ' destruction and construction thus writes professor tiele about the constructive part of our work. as to the destructive--or would-be destructive--part, he condenses my arguments against the method of comparative philology. 'to resume, the whole house of comparative philological mythology is builded on the sand, and her method does not deserve confidence, since it ends in such divergent results.' that is professor tiele's statement of my destructive conclusions, and he adds, 'so far, i have not a single objection to make. i can still range myself on mr. lang's side when he' takes certain distinctions into which it is needless to go here. { } allies or not? these are several of the passages on which, in , i relied as evidence of the professor's approval, which, i should have added, is only partial it is he who, unsolicited, professes himself 'much more our ally than our adversary.' it is he who proclaims that mr. max midler's central hypothesis is erroneous, and who makes 'no objection' to my idea that it is 'builded on the sand.' it is he who assigns essential merits to our method, and i fail to find that he 'strongly declines the honour' of our alliance. the passage about 'braves gens' explicitly does not refer to us. our errors in , i was not careful to quote what professor tiele had said against us. first, as to our want of novelty. that merit, i think, i had never claimed. i was proud to point out that we had been anticipated by eusebius of caesarea, by fontenelle, and doubtless by many others. we repose, as professor tiele justly says, on the researches of dr. tylor. at the same time it is professor tiele who constantly speaks of 'the new school,' while adding that he himself had freely opposed mr. max muller's central hypothesis, 'a disease of language,' in dutch periodicals. the professor also censures our 'exclusiveness,' our 'narrowness,' our 'songs of triumph,' our use of parody (m. gaidoz republished an old one, not to my own taste; i have also been guilty of 'the great gladstone myth') and our charge that our adversaries neglect ethnological material. on this i explain myself later. { a} uses of philology our method (says professor tiele) 'cannot answer all the questions which the science of mythology must solve, or, at least, must study.' certainly it makes no such pretence. professor tiele then criticises sir george cox and mr. robert brown, junior, for their etymologies of poseidon. indiscreet followers are not confined to our army alone. now, the use of philology, we learn, is to discourage such etymological vagaries as those of sir g. cox. { b} _we_ also discourage them--severely. but we are warned that philology really has discovered 'some undeniably certain etymologies' of divine names. well, i also say, 'philology alone can tell whether zeus asterios, or adonis, or zeus labrandeus is originally a semitic or a greek divine name; here she is the pythoness we must all consult.' { a} and is it my fault that, even in this matter, the pythonesses utter such strangely discrepant oracles? is athene from a zend root (benfey), a greek root (curtius), or to be interpreted by sanskrit ahana (max muller)? meanwhile professor tiele repeats that, in a search for the origin of myths, and, above all, of obscene and brutal myths, 'philology will lead us far from our aim.' now, if the school of mr. max muller has a mot d'ordre, it is, says professor tiele, 'to call mythology a disease of language.' { b} but, adds mr. max muller's learned dutch defender, mythologists, while using philology for certain purposes, 'must shake themselves free, of course, from the false hypothesis' (mr. max muller's) 'which makes of mythology a mere maladie du langage.' this professor is rather a dangerous defender of mr. max muller! he removes the very corner-stone of his edifice, which tiele does not object to our describing as founded on the sand. mr. max muller does not cite (as far as i observe) these passages in which professor tiele (in my view, and in fact) abandons (for certain uses) _his_ system of mythology. perhaps professor tiele has altered his mind, and, while keeping what mr. max muller quotes, braves gens, and so on, has withdrawn what he said about 'the false hypothesis of a disease of language.' but my own last book about myths was written in - , shortly after professor tiele's remarks were published ( ) as i have cited them. personal controversy all this matter of alliances may seem, and indeed is, of a personal character, and therefore unimportant. professor tiele's position in - is clearly defined. whatever he may have published since, he then accepted the anthropological or ethnological method, as _alone_ capable of doing the work in which we employ it. this method alone can discover the origin of ancient myths, and alone can account for the barbaric element, that old puzzle, in the myths of civilised races. this the philological method, useful for other purposes, cannot do, and its central hypothesis can only mislead us. i was not aware, i repeat, that i ever claimed professor tiele's 'alliance,' as he, followed by mr. max muller, declares. they cannot point, as a proof of an assertion made by professor tiele, - , to words of mine which did not see the light till , in myth, ritual, and religion, i. pp. , , . not that i deny professor tiele's statement about my claim of his alliance before - . i merely ask for a reference to this claim. in { } i cited his observations (already quoted) on the inadequate and misleading character of the philological method, when we are seeking for 'the origin of a myth, or the physical explanation of the oldest myths, or trying to account for the rude and obscene element in the divine legends of civilised races.' i added the professor's applause of the philological method as applied to other problems of mythology; for example, 'the genealogical relations of myths. . . . the philological method alone can answer here,' aided, doubtless, by historical and archaeological researches as to the inter-relations of races. this approval of the philological method, i cited; the reader will find the whole passage in the revue, vol. xii. p. . i remarked, however, that this will seem 'a very limited province,' though, in this province, 'philology is the pythoness we must all consult; in this sphere she is supreme, when her high priests are of one mind.' thus i did not omit to notice professor tiele's comments on the _merits_ of the philological method. to be sure, he himself does not apply it when he comes to examine the myth of cronos. 'are the god and his myth original or imported? i have not approached this question because it does not seem to me ripe in this particular case.' { a} 'mr. lang has justly rejected the opinion of welcker and mr. max muller, that cronos is simply formed from zeus's epithet, [greek].' { b} this opinion, however, mr. max muller still thinks the 'most likely' (ii. ). my other citation of professor tiele in says that our pretensions 'are not unacknowledged' by him, and, after a long quotation of approving passages, i add 'the method is thus _applauded_ by a most competent authority, and it has been _warmly accepted_' (pray note the distinction) by m. gaidoz. { c} i trust that what i have said is not unfair. professor tiele's objections, not so much to our method as to our manners, and to my own use of the method in a special case, have been stated, or will be stated later. probably i should have put them forward in ; i now repair my error. my sole wish is to be fair; if mr. max muller has not wholly succeeded in giving the full drift of professor tiele's remarks, i am certain that it is from no lack of candour. the story of cronos professor tiele now devotes fifteen pages to the story of cronos, and to my essay on that theme. he admits that i was right in regarding the myth as 'extraordinarily old,' and that in greece it must go back to a period when greeks had not passed the new zealand level of civilisation. [now, the new zealanders were cannibals!] but 'we are the victims of a great illusion if we think that a mere comparison of a maori and greek myth explains the myth.' i only profess to explain the savagery of the myth by the fact (admitted) that it was composed by savages. the maori story 'is a myth of the creation of light.' i, for my part, say, 'it is a myth of the severance of heaven and earth.' { a} and so it is! no being said, in maori, 'fiat lux!' light is not here _created_. heaven lay flat on earth, all was dark, somebody kicked heaven up, the already existing light came in. here is no creation de la lumiere. i ask professor tiele, 'do you, sir, create light when you open your window- shutters in the morning? no, you let light in!' the maori tale is also 'un mythe primitif de l'aurore,' a primitive dawn myth. dawn, again! here i lose professor tiele. 'has the myth of cronos the same sense?' probably not, as the maori story, to my mind, has not got it either. but professor tiele says, 'the myth of cronos has precisely the opposite sense.' { b} what is the myth of cronos? ouranos (heaven) married gaea (earth). ouranos 'hid his children from the light in the _hollows_ of earth' (hesiod). so, too, the new zealand gods were hidden from light while heaven (rangi) lay flat on papa (earth). the children 'were concealed between the _hollows_ of their parent's breasts.' they did not like it, for they dwelt in darkness. so cronos took an iron sickle and mutilated ouranos in such a way, enfin, as to divorce him a thoro. 'thus,' i say, 'were heaven and earth practically divorced.' the greek gods now came out of the hollows where they had been, like the new zealand gods, 'hidden from the light.' professor tiele on sunset myths no, says professor tiele, 'the story of cronos has precisely the opposite meaning.' the new zealand myth is one of dawn, the greek myth is one of sunset. the mutilated part of poor ouranos is le phallus du ciel, le soleil, which falls into 'the cosmic ocean,' and then, of course, all is dark. professor tiele may be right here; i am indifferent. all that i wanted to explain was the savage complexion of the myth, and professor tiele says that i have explained that, and (xii. ) he rejects the etymological theory of mr. max muller. i say that, in my opinion, the second part of the cronos myth (the child- swallowing performances of cronos) 'was probably a world-wide marchen, or tale, attracted into the cycle of which cronos was the centre, without any particular reason beyond the law which makes detached myths crystallise round any celebrated name.' professor tiele says he does not grasp the meaning of, or believe in, any such law. well, why is the world-wide tale of the cyclops told about odysseus? it is absolutely out of keeping, and it puzzles commentators. in fact, here was a hero and there was a tale, and the tale was attracted into the cycle of the hero; the very last man to have behaved as odysseus is made to do. { } but cronos was an odious ruffian. the world-wide tale of swallowing and disgorging the children was attracted to _his_ too notorious name 'by grace of congruity.' does professor tiele now grasp my meaning (saisir)? our lack of scientific exactness i do not here give at full length professor tiele's explanation of the meaning of a myth which i do not profess to explain myself. thus, drops of the blood of ouranos falling on earth begat the melies, usually rendered 'nymphs of the ash-trees.' but professor tiele says they were really _bees_ (hesychius, [greek]=[greek])--'that is to say, stars.' everybody has observed that the stars rise up off the earth, like the bees sprung from the blood of ouranos. in myth, ritual, and religion (i. - ) i give the competing explanations of mr. max muller, of schwartz (cronos=storm god), preller (cronos=harvest god), of others who see the sun, or time, in cronos; while, with professor tiele, cronos is the god of the upper air, and also of the underworld and harvest; he 'doubles the part.' 'il est l'un et l'autre'--that is, 'le dieu qui fait murir le ble' and also 'un dieu des lieux souterrains.' 'il habite les profondeurs sous la terre,' he is also le dieu du ciel nocturne. it may have been remarked that i declined to add to this interesting collection of plausible explanations of cronos. a selection of such explanations i offer in tabular form:-- cronos was god of time (?)--max muller sun--sayce midnight sky--kuhn under-world } midnight sky}--tiele harvest } harvest--preller storm--schwartz star-swallowing sky--canon taylor sun scorching spring--hartung cronos was by race late greek (?)--max muller semitic--bottiger accadian (?)--sayce etymology of cronos [greek]=time (?)--max muller krana (sanskrit)--kuhn karnos (horned)--brown [greek]--preller the pleased reader will also observe that the phallus of ouranos is the sun (tiele), that cronos is the sun (sayce), that cronos mutilating ouranos is the sun (hartung), just as the sun is the mutilated part of ouranos (tiele); _or_ is, according to others, the stone which cronos swallowed, and which acted as an emetic. my lack of explanation of cronos now, i have offered no explanation at all of who cronos was, what he was god of, from what race he was borrowed, from what language his name was derived. the fact is that i do not know the truth about these important debated questions. therefore, after speaking so kindly of our method, and rejecting the method of mr. max muller, professor tiele now writes thus (and _this_ mr. max muller does cite, as we have seen):-- 'mr. lang and m. gaidoz are not entirely wrong in claiming me as an ally. but i must protest, in the name of mythological science, and of the exactness as necessary to her as to any of the other sciences, against a method which only glides over questions of the first importance' (name, origin, province, race of cronos), 'and which to most questions can only reply, with a smile, c'est chercher raison ou il n'y en a pas.' my crime now, what important questions was i gliding over? in what questions did i not expect to find reason? why in this savage fatras about cronos swallowing his children, about blood-drops becoming bees (mr. max muller says 'melian nymphs'), and bees being stars, and all the rest of a prehistoric marchen worked over again and again by the later fancy of greek poets and by greek voyagers who recognised cronos in moloch. in all this i certainly saw no 'reason,' but i have given in tabular form the general, if inharmonious, conclusions of more exact and conscientious scholars, 'their variegated hypotheses,' as mannhardt says in the case of demeter. my error, rebuked by professor tiele, is the lack of that 'scientific exactitude' exhibited by the explanations arranged in my tabular form. my reply to professor tiele i would reply that i am not engaged in a study of the _cult_ of cronos, but of the revolting element in his _myth_: his swallowing of his children, taking a stone emetic by mistake, and disgorging the swallowed children alive; the stone being on view at delphi long after the christian era. now, such stories of divine feats of swallowing and disgorging are very common, i show, in savage myth and popular marchen. the bushmen have kwai hemm, who swallows the sacred mantis insect. he is killed, and all the creatures whom he has swallowed return to light. such stories occur among australians, kaffirs, red men, in guiana, in greenland, and so on. in some cases, among savages. night (conceived as a person), or one star which obscures another star, is said to 'swallow' it. therefore, i say, 'natural phenomena, explained on savage principles, might give the data of the swallowing myth, of cronos' { }--that is, the myth of cronos may be, probably is, originally a nature-myth. 'on this principle cronos would be (ad hoc) the night.' professor tiele does not allude to this effort at interpretation. but i come round to something like the view of kuhn. cronos (ad hoc) is the midnight [sky], which professor tiele also regards as one of his several aspects. it is not impossible, i think, that if the swallowing myth was originally a nature-myth, it was suggested by night. but the question i tried to answer was, 'why did the greeks, of all people, tell such a disgusting story?' and i replied, with professor tiele's approval, that they inherited it from an age to which such follies were natural, an age when the ancestors of the greeks were on (or under) the maori stage of culture. now, the maoris, a noble race, with poems of great beauty and speculative power, were cannibals, like cronos. to my mind, 'scientific exactitude' is rather shown in confessing ignorance than in adding to the list of guesses. conclusion as to professor tiele the learned professor's remarks on being 'much more my ally than my opponent' were published before my myth, ritual, and religion, in which (i. , ) i cited his agreement with me in the opinion that 'the philological method' (mr. max muller's) is 'inadequate and misleading, when it is a question of discovering the origin of a myth.' i also quoted his unhesitating preference of ours to mr. max muller's method (i. , ). i did not cite a tithe of what he actually did say to our credit. but i omitted to quote what it was inexcusable not to add, that professor tiele thinks us 'too exclusive,' that he himself had already, before us, combated mr. max muller's method in dutch periodicals, that he blamed our 'songs of triumph' and our levities, that he thought we might have ignorant camp-followers, that i glided over important questions (bees, blood-drops, stars, melian nymphs, the phallus of ouranos, &c.), and showed scientific inexactitude in declining chercher raison ou il n'y en a pas. none the less, in professor tiele's opinion, our method is new (or is _not_ new), illuminating, successful, and _alone_ successful, for the ends to which we apply it, and, finally, we have shown mr. max muller's method to be a house builded on the sand. that is the gist of what professor tiele said. mr. max muller, like myself, quotes part and omits part. he quotes twice professor tiele's observations on my deplorable habit of gliding over important questions. he twice says that we have 'actually' claimed the professor as 'an ally of the victorious army,' 'the ethnological students of custom and myth,' and once adds, 'but he strongly declined that honour.' he twice quotes the famous braves gens passage, excepting only m. gaidoz, as a scholar, from a censure explicitly directed at our possible camp-followers as distinguished from ourselves. but if mr. max muller quotes professor tiele's remarks proving that, in his opinion, the 'army' _is_ really victorious; if he cites the acquiescence in my opinion that _his_ mythological house is 'builded on the sands,' or professor tiele's preference for our method over his own, or professor tiele's volunteered remark that he is 'much more our ally than our adversary,' i have not detected the passages in contributions to the science of mythology. the reader may decide as to the relative importance of what i left out, and of what mr. max muller omitted. he says, 'professor tiele and i differ on several points, but we perfectly understand each other, and when we have made a mistake we readily confess and correct it' (i. ). the two scholars, i thought, differed greatly. mr. max muller's war-cry, slogan, mot d'ordre, is to professor tiele 'a false hypothesis.' our method, which mr. max muller combats so bravely, is all that professor tiele has said of it. but, if all this is not conspicuously apparent in our adversary's book, it does not become me to throw the first stone. we are all, in fact, inclined unconsciously to overlook what makes against our argument. i have done it; and, to the best of my belief, mr. max muller has not avoided the same error. mannhardt mannhardt's attitude professor tiele, it may appear, really 'fights for his own hand,' and is not a thorough partisan of either side. the celebrated mannhardt, too, doubtless the most original student of folk-lore since grimm, might, at different periods of his career, have been reckoned an ally, now by philologists, now by 'the new school.' he may be said, in fact, to have combined what is best in the methods of both parties. both are anxious to secure such support as his works can lend. moral character impeached mr. max muller avers that his moral character seems to be 'aimed at' by critics who say that he has no right to quote mannhardt or oldenberg as his supporters ( . xvi.). now, without making absurd imputations, i do not reckon mannhardt a thorough partisan of mr. max muller. i could not put _our_ theory so well as mannhardt puts it. 'the study of the lower races is an invaluable instrument for the interpretation of the survivals from earlier stages, which we meet in the full civilisation of cultivated peoples, but which arose in the remotest fetishism and savagery.' like mr. max muller, i do not care for the vague word 'fetishism,' otherwise mannhardt's remark exactly represents my own position, the anthropological position. { a} now, mr. max muller does not like that position. that position he assails. it was mannhardt's, however, when he wrote the book quoted, and, so far, mannhardt was _not_ absolutely one of mr. max muller's 'supporters'--unless i am one. 'i have even been accused,' says mr. max muller, 'of intentionally ignoring or suppressing mannhardt's labours. how charitable!' ( . xvii.) i trust, from our author's use of the word todtschweigen, that this uncharitable charge was made in germany. mannhardt mannhardt, for a time, says mr. max muller, 'expressed his mistrust in some of the results of comparative mythology' ( . xvii.). indeed, i myself quote him to that very effect. { b} not only '_some_ of the results,' but the philological method itself was distrusted by mannhardt, as by curtius. 'the failure of the method in its practical working lies in a lack of the historical sense,' says mannhardt. { c} mr. max muller may have, probably has, referred to these sayings of mannhardt; or, if he has not, no author is obliged to mention everybody who disagrees with him. mannhardt's method was mainly that of folklore, not of philology. he examined peasant customs and rites as 'survivals' of the oldest paganism. mr. frazer applies mannhardt's rich lore to the explanation of greek and other rites in the golden bough, that entrancing book. such was mannhardt's position (as i shall prove at large) when he was writing his most famous works. but he 'returned at last to his old colours' ( . xvii.) in die lettischen sonnenmythen ( ). in mannhardt died. mr. max muller does not say whether mannhardt, before a decease deeply regretted, recanted his heretical views about the philological method, and his expressed admiration of the study of the lower races as 'an invaluable instrument.' one would gladly read a recantation so important. but mr. max muller does tell us that 'if i did not refer to his work in my previous contributions to the science of mythology the reason was simple enough. it was not, as has been suggested, my wish to suppress it (todtschweigen), but simply my want of knowledge of the materials with which he dealt' (german popular customs and traditions) 'and therefore the consciousness of my incompetence to sit in judgment on his labours.' again, we are told that there was no need of criticism or praise of mannhardt. he had mr. frazer as his prophet--but not till ten years after his death. mannhardt's letters 'mannhardt's state of mind with regard to the general principles of comparative philology has been so exactly my own,' says mr. max muller, that he cites mannhardt's letters to prove the fact. but as to the _application_ to myth of the principles of comparative philology, mannhardt speaks of 'the lack of the historical sense' displayed in the practical employment of the method. this, at least, is 'not exactly' mr. max muller's own view. probably he refers to the later period when mannhardt 'returned to his old colours.' the letters of mannhardt, cited in proof of his exact agreement with mr. max muller about comparative philology, do not, as far as quoted, mention the subject of comparative philology at all ( . xviii-xx.). possibly 'philology' is here a slip of the pen, and 'mythology' may be meant. mannhardt says to mullenhoff (may , ) that he has been uneasy 'at the extent which sun myths threaten to assume in my comparisons.' he is opening 'a new point of view;' materials rush in, 'so that the sad danger seemed inevitable of everything becoming everything.' in mr. max muller's own words, written long ago, _he_ expressed his dread, not of 'everything becoming everything' (a truly heraclitean state of affairs), but of the 'omnipresent sun and the inevitable dawn appearing in ever so many disguises.' 'have we not,' he asks, 'arrived both at the same conclusion?' really, i do not know! had mannhardt quite cashiered 'the corn-spirit,' who, perhaps, had previously threatened to 'become everything'? he is still in great vigour, in mr. frazer's golden bough, and mr. frazer is mannhardt's disciple. but where, all this time, is there a reference by mannhardt to 'the general principles of comparative philology'? where does he accept 'the omnipresent sun and the inevitable dawn'? why, he says the reverse; he says in this letter that he is immeasurably removed from accepting them at all as mr. max muller accepts them! 'i am very far from looking upon all myths as psychical reflections of physical phenomena, still less as of exclusively solar or meteorological phenomena, like kuhn, schwartz, max muller and their school.' what a queer way of expressing his agreement with mr. max muller! the professor expostulates with mannhardt ( . xx.):--'where has any one of us ever done this?' well, when mannhardt said '_all_ myths,' he wrote colloquially. shall we say that he meant 'most myths,' 'a good many myths,' 'a myth or two here and there'? whatever he meant, he meant that he was 'still more than very far removed from looking upon all myths' as mr. max muller does. mannhardt's next passage i quote entire and textually from mr. max muller's translation:-- 'i have learnt to appreciate poetical and literary production as an essential element in the development of mythology, and to draw and utilise the consequences arising from this state of things. [who has not?] but, on the other hand, i hold it as quite certain that a portion of the older myths arose from nature poetry which is no longer directly intelligible to us, but has to be interpreted by means of analogies. nor does it follow that these myths betray any historical identity; they only testify to the same kind of conception and tendency prevailing on similar stages of development. of these nature myths some have reference to the life and the circumstances of the sun, and our first steps towards an understanding of them are helped on by such nature poetry as the lettish, which has not yet been obscured by artistic and poetical reflexion. in that poetry mythical personalities confessedly belonging to a solar sphere are transferred to a large number of poetical representatives, of which the explanation must consequently be found in the same (solar) sphere of nature. my method here is just the same as that applied by me to the tree-cult.' mr. max muller asks, 'where is there any difference between this, the latest and final system adopted by mannhardt, and my own system which i put forward in ?' ( . xxi.) how mannhardt differs from mr. max muller i propose to show wherein the difference lies. mannhardt says, 'my method is just the same as that applied by me to the tree-cult.' what was _that_ method? mannhardt, in the letter quoted by mr. max muller, goes on to describe it; but mr. max muller omits the description, probably not realising its importance. for mannhardt's method is the reverse of that practised under the old colours to which he is said to have returned. mannhardt's method 'my method is here the same as in the tree-cult. i start from a given collection of facts, of which the central idea is distinct and generally admitted, and consequently offers a firm basis for explanation. i illustrate from this and from well-founded analogies. continuing from these, i seek to elucidate darker things. i search out the simplest radical ideas and perceptions, the germ-cells from whose combined growth mythical tales form themselves in very different ways.' mr. frazer gives us a similar description of mannhardt's method, whether dealing with sun myths or tree myths. { } 'mannhardt set himself systematically to collect, compare, and explain the living superstitions of the peasantry.' now mr. max muller has just confessed, as a reason for incompetence to criticise mannhardt's labours, 'my want of knowledge of the materials with which he dealt--the popular customs and traditions of germany.' and yet he asks where there is any difference between his system and mannhardt's. mannhardt's is the study of rural survival, the system of folklore. mr. max muller's is the system of comparative philology about which in this place mannhardt does not say one single word. mannhardt interprets some myths 'arising from nature poetry, no longer intelligible to us,' by _analogies_; mr. max muller interprets them by _etymologies_. the difference is incalculable; not that mannhardt always abstains from etymologising. another claim on mannhardt while maintaining that 'all comparative mythology must rest on comparison of names as its most certain basis' (a system which mannhardt declares explicitly to be so far 'a failure'), mr. max muller says, 'it is well known that in his last, nay posthumous essay, mannhardt, no mean authority, returned to the same conviction.' i do not know which is mannhardt's very last essay, but i shall prove that in the posthumous essays mannhardt threw cold water on the whole method of philological comparative mythology. however, as proof of mannhardt's return to mr. max muller's convictions, our author cites mythologische forschungen (pp. - ). what mannhardt said in the passages here produced as proof of mannhardt's conversion, he is not investigating a myth at all, or a name which occurs in mythology. he is trying to discover the meaning of the practices of the lupercalia at rome. in february, says dionysius of halicarnassus, the romans held a popular festival, and lads ran round naked, save for skins of victims, whipping the spectators. mannhardt, in his usual way, collects all the facts first, and then analyses the name luperci. this does not make him a philological mythologist. to take a case in point, at selkirk and queensferry the bounds are ridden, or walked, by 'burleymen' or 'burrymen.' { } after examining the facts we examine the words, and ask, 'why burley or burry men?' at queensferry, by a folk etymology, one of the lads wears a coat stuck over with burrs. but 'borough-men' seems the probable etymology. as we examine the names burley, or burry men, so mannhardt examines the name luperci; and if a true etymology can be discovered, it will illustrate the original intention of the lupercalia (p. ). he would like to explain the lupercalia as a popular play, representing the spirits of vegetation opposing the spirits of infertility. 'but we do not forget that our whole theory of the development of the rite rests on a hypothesis which the lack of materials prevents us from demonstrating.' he would explain luperci as lupiherci--'wolf-goats.' over this we need not linger; but how does all this prove mannhardt to have returned to the method of comparing greek with vedic divine names, and arriving thence at some celestial phenomenon as the basis of a terrestrial myth? yet he sometimes does this. my relations to mannhardt if anything could touch and move an unawakened anthropologist it would be the conversion of mannhardt. my own relations with his ideas have the interest of illustrating mental coincidences. his name does not occur, i think, in the essay, 'the method of folklore,' in the first edition of my custom and myth. in that essay i take, as an example of the method, the scottish and northumbrian kernababy, the puppet made out of the last gleanings of harvest. this i compared to the greek demeter of the harvest-home, with sheaves and poppies in her hands, in the immortal seventh idyll of theocritus. our kernababy, i said, is a stunted survival of our older 'maiden,' 'a regular image of the harvest goddess,' and i compared [greek]. next i gave the parallel case from ancient peru, and the odd accidental coincidence that _there_ the maize was styled mama cora ([greek]!). in entire ignorance of mannhardt's corn-spirit, or corn-mother, i was following mannhardt's track. indeed, mr. max muller has somewhere remarked that i popularise mannhardt's ideas. naturally he could not guess that the coincidence was accidental and also inevitable. two men, unknown to each other, were using the same method on the same facts. mannhardt's return to his old colours if, then, mannhardt was re-converted, it would be a potent argument for my conversion. but one is reminded of the re-conversion of prince charles. in he 'deserted the errors of the church of rome for those of the church of england.' later he returned, or affected to return, to the ancient faith. a certain cardinal seemed contented therewith, and, as the historian remarks, 'was clearly a man not difficult to please.' mr. max muller reminds me of the good cardinal. i do not feel so satisfied as he does of mannhardt's re-conversion. mannhardt's attitude to philology we have heard mannhardt, in a letter partly cited by mr. max muller, describe his own method. he begins with what is certain and intelligible, a mass of popular customs. these he explains by analogies. he passes from the known to the obscure. philological mythologists begin with the unknown, the name of a god. this they analyse, extract a meaning, and (proceeding to the known) fit the facts of the god's legend into the sense of his name. the methods are each other's opposites, yet the letter in which mannhardt illustrates this fact is cited as a proof of his return to his old colours. irritating conduct of mannhardt nothing irritates philological mythologists so much, nothing has injured them so much in the esteem of the public which 'goes into these things a little,' as the statement that their competing etymologies and discrepant interpretations of mythical names are mutually destructive. i have been told that this is 'a mean argument.' but if one chemical analyst found bismuth where another found iridium, and a third found argon, the public would begin to look on chemistry without enthusiasm; still more so if one chemist rarely found anything but inevitable bismuth or omnipresent iridium. now mannhardt uses this 'mean argument.' mannhardt on demeter erinnys in a posthumous work, mythologische forschungen ( ), the work from which mr. max muller cites the letter to mullenhoff, mannhardt discusses demeter erinnys. she is the arcadian goddess, who, in the form of a mare, became mother of despoina and the horse arion, by poseidon. { a} her anger at the unhandsome behaviour of poseidon caused demeter to be called erinnys--'to be angry' being [greek] in arcadian--a folk-etymology, clearly. mannhardt first dives deep into the sources for this fable. { b} arion, he decides, is no mythological personification, but a poetical ideal (bezeichnung) of the war-horse. legend is ransacked for proof of this. poseidon is the lord of wind and wave. now, there are waves of corn, under the wind, as well as waves of the sea. when the suabian rustic sees the wave running over the corn, he says, da lauft das pferd, and greeks before homer would say, in face of the billowing corn, [greek], there run horses! and homer himself { c} says that the horses of erichthonius, children of boreas, ran over cornfield and sea. we ourselves speak of sea-waves as 'white horses.' so, to be brief, mannhardt explains the myth of demeter erinnys becoming, as a mare, a mother by poseidon as a horse, thus, 'poseidon hippies, or poseidon in horse's form, rushes through the growing grain and weds demeter,' and he cites peasant proverbs, such as das korn heirathet; das korn feiert hochzeit (p. ). 'this is the germ of the arcadian saga.' 'the arcadian myth of demeter erinnys is undeniably a blending of the epic tradition [of the ideal war-horse] with the local cult of demeter. . . . it is a probable hypothesis that the belief in the wedding of demeter and poseidon comes from the sight of the waves passing over the cornfield. . . .' { } it is very neat! but a certain myth of loki in horse-form comes into memory, and makes me wonder how mannhardt would have dealt with that too liberal narrative. loki, as a mare (he being a male god), became, by the horse of a giant, the father of sleipnir, odin's eight-footed steed. mr. w. a. craigie supplies this note on loki's analogy with poseidon, as a horse, in the waves of corn:-- 'in north jutland, when the vapours are seen going with a wavy motion along the earth in the heat of summer, they say, "loki is sowing oats today," or "loki is driving his goats." 'n.b.--oats in danish are havre, which suggests o.n. hafrar, goats. modern icelandic has hafrar=oats, but the word is not found in the old language.' is loki a corn-spirit? mannhardt's 'mean argument' mannhardt now examines the explanations of demeter erinnys, and her legend, given by preller, e. curtius, o. muller, a. kuhn, w. sonne, max muller, e. burnouf, de gubernatis, schwartz, and h. d. muller. 'here,' he cries, 'is a variegated list of hypotheses!' demeter is storm-cloud sun goddess earth and moon goddess dawn night. poseidon is sea storm god cloud-hidden sun rain god. despoina is rain thunder moon. arion, the horse, is lightning sun thunder-horse. erinnys is storm-cloud red dawn. mannhardt decides, after this exhibition of guesses, that the demeter legends cannot be explained as refractions of any natural phenomena in the heavens (p. ). he concludes that the myth of demeter erinnys, and the parallel vedic story of saranyu (who also had an amour as a mare), are 'incongruous,' and that neither sheds any light on the other. he protests against the whole tendency to find prototypes of all aryan myths in the veda, and to think that, with a few exceptions, all mythology is a terrestrial reflection of celestial phenomena (p. ). he then goes into the contending etymologies of demeter, and decides ('for the man was mortal and had been a' philologer) in favour of his own guess, [greek]+[greek]='corn-mother' (p. ). this essay on demeter was written by mannhardt in the summer of , a year after the letter which is given as evidence that he had 'returned to his old colours.' the essay shows him using the philological string of 'variegated hypotheses' as anything but an argument in favour of the philological method. on the other hand, he warns us against the habit, so common in the philological school, of looking for prototypes of all aryan myths in the veda, and of finding in most myths a reflection on earth of phenomena in the heavens, erinnys being either storm-cloud or dawn, according to the taste and fancy of the inquirer. we also find mannhardt, in , starting from the known--legend and rural survival in phrase and custom--and so advancing to the unknown--the name demeter. the philologists commence with the unknown, the old name, demeter erinnys, explain it to taste, and bring the legend into harmony with their explanation. i cannot say, then, that i share mr. max muller's impression. i do not feel sure that mannhardt did return to his old colours. why mannhardt is thought to have been converted mannhardt's friend, mullenhoff, had an aversion to solar myths. he said: { } 'i deeply mistrust all these combinations of the new so-called comparative mythology.' mannhardt was preparing to study lithuanian solar myths, based on lithuanian and lettish marriage songs. mullenhoff and scherer seem to have thought this work too solar for their taste. mannhardt therefore replied to their objections in the letter quoted in part by mr. max muller. mannhardt was not the man to neglect or suppress solar myths when he found them, merely because he did not believe that a great many other myths which had been claimed as celestial were solar. like every sensible person, he knew that there are numerous real, obvious, confessed solar myths _not_ derived from a disease of language. these arise from ( ) the impulse to account for the doings of the sun by telling a story about him as if he were a person; ( ) from the natural poetry of the human mind. { } what we think they are _not_ shown to arise from is forgetfulness of meanings of old words, which, ex hypothesi, have become proper names. that is the theory of the philological school, and to that theory, to these colours, i see no proof (in the evidence given) that mannhardt had returned. but 'the scalded child dreads cold water,' and mullenhoff apparently dreaded even real solar myths. mr. max muller, on the other hand (if i do not misinterpret him), supposes that mannhardt had returned to the philological method, partly because he was interested in _real_ solar myths and in the natural poetry of illiterate races. mannhardt's final confession mannhardt's last work published in his life days was antike wald- und feldkulte ( ). in the preface, dated november , (_after_ the famous letter of may ), he explains the growth of his views and criticises his predecessors. after doing justice to kuhn and his comparisons of european with indian myths, he says that, in his opinion, comparative indo-germanic mythology has not yet borne the expected fruits. 'the _assured_ gains shrink into very few divine names, such as dyaus--zeus--tius, parjany--perkunas, bhaga--bug, varuna--uranus, &c.' i wish he had completed the list included in &c. other equations, as sarameya=hermeias, saranyu=demeter erinnys, he fears will not stand close criticism. he dreads that jeux d'esprit (geistvolle spiele des witzes) may once more encroach on science. then, after a lucid statement of mr. max muller's position, he says, 'ich vermag dem von m. muller aufgestellten principe, wenn uberhaupt eine, so doch nur eine sehr beschrankte geltung zuzugestehen.' 'to the principle of max muller i can only assign a very limited value, if any value at all.' { } 'taken all in all, i consider the greater part of the results hitherto obtained in the field of indo-germanic comparative mythology to be, as yet, a failure, premature or incomplete, my own efforts in german myths ( ) included. that i do not, however, "throw out the babe with the bath," as the proverb goes, my essay on lettish sun myths in bastian-hartmann's ethnological journal will bear witness.' such is mannhardt's conclusion. taken in connection with his still later essay on demeter, it really leaves no room for doubt. there, i think, he does 'throw out the child with the bath,' throw the knife after the handle. i do not suppose that mr. max muller ever did quote mannhardt as one of his supporters, but such a claim, if really made, would obviously give room for criticism. mannhardt on solar myths what the attitude of mannhardt was, in and later, we have seen. he disbelieves in the philological system of explaining myths by etymological conjectures. he disbelieves in the habit of finding, in myths of terrestrial occurrences, reflections of celestial phenomena. but earlier, in his long essay die lettischen sonnenmythen (in zeitschrift fur ethnologie, ), he examines the lettish popular songs about the sun, the sun's daughters, the god-sons, and so forth. here, of course, he is dealing with popular songs explicitly devoted to solar phenomena, in their poetical aspect. in the lettish sun-songs and sun-myths of the peasants we see, he says, a myth-world 'in process of becoming,' in an early state of development, as in the veda (p. ). but, we may reply, in the veda, myths are already full-grown, or even decadent. already there are unbelievers in the myths. thus we would say, in the veda we have ( ) myths of nature, formed in the remote past, and ( ) poetical phrases about heavenly phenomena, which resemble the nature-poetry of the letts, but which do not become full-grown myths. the lett songs, also, have not developed into myths, of which (as in the apollo and daphne story, by mr. max muller's hypothesis) _the original meaning is lost_. in the lett songs we have a mass of nature-pictures--the boat and the apples of the sun, the red cloak hung on the oak-tree, and so on; pictures by which it is sought to make elemental phenomena intelligible, by comparison with familiar things. behind the phenomena are, in popular belief, personages--mythical personages--the sun as 'a magnified non-natural man,' or woman; the sun's mother, daughters, and other heavenly people. their conduct is 'motived' in a human way. stories are told about them: the sun kills the moon, who revives. all this is perfectly familiar everywhere. savages, in their fables, account for solar, lunar, and similar elemental processes, on the theory that the heavenly bodies are, and act like, human beings. the eskimo myth of the spots on the moon, marks of ashes thrown by the sun in a love- quarrel, is an excellent example. but in all this there is no 'disease of language.' these are frank nature-myths, 'aetiological,' giving a fabulous reason for facts of nature. mannhardt on marchen. but mannhardt goes farther. he not only recognises, as everyone must do, the sun, as explicitly named, when he plays his part in myth, or popular tale (marchen). he thinks that even when the sun is not named, his presence, and reference to him, and derivation of the incidents in marchen from solar myth, may sometimes be detected with great probability (pp. , ). but he adds, 'not that every marchen contains a reference to nature; that i am far from asserting' (p. ). now perhaps nobody will deny that some incidents in marchen may have been originally suggested by nature-myths. the all-swallowing and all-disgorging beast, wolf, or ogre, may have been derived from a view of night as the all-swallower. but to disengage natural phenomena, mythically stated, from the human tangle of marchen, to find natural phenomena in such a palimpsest as perrault's courtly and artificial version of a french popular tale, is a delicate and dangerous task. in many stories a girl has three balls--one of silver, one of gold, one of diamond--which she offers, in succession, as bribes. this is a perfectly natural invention. it is perilous to connect these balls, gifts of ascending value, with the solar apple of iron, silver, and gold (p. and note ). it is perilous, and it is quite unnecessary. some one--gubernatis, i think--has explained the naked sword of aladdin, laid between him and the sultan's daughter in bed, as the silver sickle of the moon. really the sword has an obvious purpose and meaning, and is used as a symbol in proxy-marriages. the blood shed by achilles in his latest victories is elsewhere explained as red clouds round the setting sun, which is conspicuously childish. mannhardt leans, at least, in this direction. 'the two brothers' mannhardt takes the old egyptian tale of 'the two brothers,' bitiou and anepou. this fable, as old, in actual written literature, as moses, is a complex of half the marchen plots and incidents in the world. it opens with the formula of potiphar's wife. the falsely accused brother flies, and secretes his life, or separable soul, in a flower of the mystic vale of acacias. this affair of the separable soul may be studied in mr. hartland's perseus, and it animates, as we shall see, mr. frazer's theory of the origin of totemism. a golden lock of the wicked wife's hair is then borne by the nile to the king's palace in egypt. he will insist on marrying the lady of the lock. here we are in the cinderella formula, en plein, which may be studied, in african and santhal shapes, in miss coxe's valuable cinderella. { } pharaoh's wise men decide that the owner of the lock of hair is (like egyptian royalty at large) a daughter of the sun-god (p. ). here is the sun, in all his glory; but here we are dealing with a literary version of the marchen, accommodated to royal tastes and egyptian ideas of royalty by a royal scribe, the courtly perrault of the egyptian roi-soleil. who can say what he introduced?--while we _can_ say that the sun-god is absent in south african and santhal and other variants. the sun may have slipped out here, may have been slipped in there; the faintest glimmer of the historical sense prevents us from dogmatising. wedded to pharaoh, the wicked wife, pursuing her vengeance on bitiou, cuts down his life-tree. anepou, his brother, however, recovers his concealed heart (life), and puts it in water. bitiou revives. he changes himself into the sacred bull, apis--a feature in the story which is practically possible in egypt alone. the bull tells the king his story, but the wicked wife has the bull slain, as by cambyses in herodotus. two of his blood-drops become two persea trees. one of them confesses the fact to the wicked wife. she has them cut down; a chip flies into her mouth, she becomes a mother by the chip, the boy (bitiou) again becomes king, and slays his mother, the wicked wife. in the tree, any tree, acacia or persea, mannhardt wishes to recognise the sun-tree of the lett songs. the red blossoms of the persea tree are a symbol of the sun-tree: of horus. he compares features, not always very closely analogous, in european marchen. for example, a girl hides in a tree, like charles ii. at boscobel. that is not really analogous with bitiou's separable life in the acacia! 'anepou' is like 'anapu,' anubis. the bull is the sun, is osiris--dead in winter. mr. frazer, mannhardt's disciple, protests a grands cris against these identifications when made by others than mannhardt, who says, 'the marchen is an old obscure solar myth' (p. ). to others the story of bitiou seems an egyptian literary complex, based on a popular set of tales illustrating furens quid femina possit, and illustrating the world- wide theory of the separable life, dragging in formulas from other marchen, and giving to all a thoroughly classical egyptian colouring. { a} solar myths, we think, have not necessarily anything to make in the matter. the golden fleece mannhardt reasons in much the same way about the golden fleece. this is a peculiarly greek feature, interwoven with the world-wide marchen of the lad, the giant's helpful daughter, her aid in accomplishing feats otherwise impossible, and the pursuit of the pair by the father. i have studied the story--as it occurs in samoa, among red indian tribes, and elsewhere--in 'a far-travelled tale.' { b} in our late greek versions the quest of the fleece of gold occurs, but in no other variants known to me. there is a lamb (a boy changed into a lamb) in romaic. his fleece is of no interest to anybody. out of his body grows a tree with a golden apple. sun-yarns occur in popular songs. mannhardt (pp. , ) abounds in solar explanations of the fleece of gold, hanging on the oak- tree in the dark aeaean forest. idyia, wife of the colchian king, 'is clearly the dawn.' aia is the isle of the sun. helle=surya, a sanskrit sun-goddess; the golden ram off whose back she falls, while her brother keeps his seat, is the sun. her brother, phrixus, may be the daylight. the oak-tree in colchis is the sun-tree of the lettish songs. perseus is a hero of light, born in the dark tower (night) from the shower of gold (sun-rays). 'we can but say "it may be so,"' but who could explain all the complex perseus-saga as a statement about elemental phenomena? or how can the far-travelled tale of the lad and the giant's daughter be interpreted to the same effect, above all in the countless examples where no fleece of gold occurs? the greek tale of jason is made up of several marchen, as is the odyssey, by epic poets. these marchen have no necessary connection with each other; they are tagged on to each other, and localised in greece and on the euxine. { a} a poetic popular view of the sun may have lent the peculiar, and elsewhere absent, incident of the quest of the fleece of gold on the shores of the black sea. the old epic poets may have borrowed from popular songs like the lettish chants (p. ). a similar dubious adhesion may be given by us in the case of castor and polydeuces (morning and evening stars?), and helen (dawn), { b} and the hesperides (p. ). the germs of the myths _may_ be popular poetical views of elemental phenomena. but to insist on elemental allegories through all the legends of the dioskouroi, and of the trojan war, would be to strain a hypothesis beyond the breaking-point. much, very much, is epic invention, unverkennbar das werk der dichter (p. ). mannhardt's approach to mr. max muller in this essay on lettish sun-songs ( ) mannhardt comes nearest to mr. max muller. he cites passages from him with approval (cf. pp. , ). his explanations, by aid of sun-songs, of certain features in greek mythology are plausible, and may be correct. but we turn to mannhardt's explicit later statement of his own position in , and to his posthumous essays, published in ; and, on the whole, we find, in my opinion, much more difference from than agreement with the oxford professor, whose dawn-daphne and other equations mannhardt dismisses, and to whose general results (in mythology) he assigns a value so restricted. it is a popular delusion that the anthropological mythologists deny the existence of solar myths, or of nature-myths in general. these are extremely common. what we demur to is the explanation of divine and heroic myths at large as solar or elemental, when the original sense has been lost by the ancient narrators, and when the elemental explanation rests on conjectural and conflicting etymologies and interpretations of old proper names--athene, hera, artemis, and the rest. nevertheless, while mannhardt, in his works on tree-cult, and on field and wood cult, and on the 'corn demon,' has wandered far from 'his old colours'--while in his posthumous essays he is even more of a deserter, his essay on lettish sun-myths shows an undeniable tendency to return to mr. max muller's camp. this was what made his friends so anxious. it is probably wisest to form our opinion of his final attitude on his preface to his last book published in his life-time. in that the old colours are not exactly his chosen banner; nor can the flag of the philological school be inscribed tandem triumphans. in brief, mannhardt's return to his old colours ( - ) seems to have been made in a mood from which he again later passed away. but either modern school of mythology may cite him as an ally in one or other of his phases of opinion. philology and demeter erinnys mr. max muller on demeter erinnys. like mannhardt, our author in his new treatise discusses the strange old arcadian myth of the horse-demeter erinnys (ii. ). he tells the unseemly tale, and asks why the earth goddess became a mare? then he gives the analogous myth from the rig-veda, { } which, as it stands, is 'quite unintelligible.' but yaska explains that saranyu, daughter of tvashtri, in the form of a mare, had twins by vivasvat, in the shape of a stallion. their offspring were the asvins, who are more or less analogous in their helpful character to castor and pollux. now, can it be by accident that saranyu in the veda is erinnys in greek? to this 'equation,' as we saw, mannhardt demurred in . who was saranyu? yaska says 'the night;' that was yaska's idea. mr. max muller adds, 'i think he is right,' and that saranyu is 'the grey dawn' (ii. ). 'but,' the bewildered reader exclaims, 'dawn is one thing and night is quite another.' so yaska himself was intelligent enough to observe, 'night is the wife of aditya; she vanishes at sunrise.' however, night in mr. max muller's system 'has just got to be' dawn, a position proved thus: 'yaska makes this clear by saying that the time of the asvins, sons of saranyu, is after midnight,' but that 'when darkness prevails over light, that is madhyama; when light prevails over darkness, that is aditya,' both being asvins. they (the asvins) are, in fact, darkness and light; and _therefore_, i understand, saranyu, who is night, and not an asvin at all, is dawn! to make this perfectly clear, remember that the husband of saranyu, whom she leaves at sunrise, is--i give you three guesses--is the sun! the sun's wife leaves the sun at sunrise. { } this is proved, for aditya is vivasvat=the sun, and is the husband of saranyu (ii. ). these methods of proving night to be dawn, while the substitute for both in the bed of the sun 'may have been meant for the gloaming' (ii. ), do seem to be geistvolle spiele des witzes, ingenious jeux d'esprit, as mannhardt says, rather than logical arguments. but we still do not know how the horse and mare came in, or why the statue of demeter had a horse's head. 'this seems simply to be due to the fact that, quite apart from this myth, the sun had, in india at least, often been conceived as a horse . . . . and the dawn had been likened to a mare.' but how does this explain the problem? the vedic poets cited (ii. ) either referred to the myth which we have to explain, or they used a poetical expression, knowing perfectly well what they meant. as long as they knew what they meant, they could not make an unseemly fable out of a poetical phrase. not till after the meaning was forgotten could the myth arise. but the myth existed already in the veda! and the unseemliness is precisely what we have to account for; that is our enigma. once more, demeter is a goddess of earth, not of dawn. how, then, does the explanation of a hypothetical dawn-myth apply to the earth? well, perhaps the story, the unseemly story, was first told of erinnys (who also is 'the inevitable dawn') or of deo, 'and this name of deo, or dyava, was mixed up with a hypokoristic form of demeter, deo, and thus led to the transference of her story to demeter. i know this will sound very unlikely to greek scholars, yet i see no other way out of our difficulties' (ii. ). phonetic explanations follow. 'to my mind,' says our author, 'there is no chapter in mythology in which we can so clearly read the transition of an auroral myth of the veda into an epic chapter of greece as in the chapter of saranyu (or surama) and the asvins, ending in the chapter of helena and her brothers, the [greek]' (ii. ). here, as regards the asvins and the dioskouroi, mannhardt may be regarded as mr. max muller's ally; but compare his note, a. f. u. w. k. p. xx. my theory of the horse demeter mannhardt, i think, ought to have tried at an explanation of myths so closely analogous as those two, one indian, one greek, in which a goddess, in the shape of a mare, becomes mother of twins by a god in the form of a stallion. as mr. max muller well says, 'if we look about for analogies we find nothing, as far as i know, corresponding to the well- marked features of this barbarous myth among any of the uncivilised tribes of the earth. if we did, how we should rejoice! why, then, should we not rejoice when we find the allusion in rig veda?' (x , ). i do rejoice! the 'song of triumph,' as professor tiele says, will be found in m. r. r. ii. (note), where i give the vedic and other references. i even asked why mr. max muller did not produce this proof of the identity of saranyu and demeter erinnys in his selected essays (pp. , ). i cannot explain why this tale was told both of erinnys and of saranyu. granting the certainty of the etymological equation, saranyu=erinnys (which mannhardt doubted), the chances against fortuitous coincidence may be reckoned by algebra, and mr. edgeworth's trillions of trillions feebly express it. two goddesses, indian and greek, have, ex hypothesi, the same name, and both, as mares, are mothers of twins. though the twins (in india the asvins, in greek an ideal war-horse and a girl) differ in character, still the coincidence is evidential. explain it i cannot, and, clearly as the confession may prove my lack of scientific exactness, i make it candidly. if i must offer a guess, it is that greeks, and indians of india, inherited a very ordinary savage idea. the gods in savage myths are usually beasts. as beasts they beget anthropomorphic offspring. this is the regular rule in totemism. in savage myths we are not told 'a god' (apollo, or zeus, or poseidon) 'put on beast shape and begat human sons and daughters' (helen, the telmisseis, and so on). the god in savage myths was a beast already, though he could, of course, shift shapes like any 'medicine-man,' or modern witch who becomes a hare. this is not the exception but the rule in savage mythology. anyone can consult my myth, ritual, and religion, or mr. frazer's work totemism, for abundance of evidence. to loki, a male god, prosecuting his amours as a female horse, i have already alluded, and in m. r. r. give cases from the satapatha brahmana. the saranyu-erinnys myth dates, i presume, from this savage state of fancy; but why the story occurred both in greece and india, i protest that i cannot pretend to explain, except on the hypothesis that the ancestors of greek and vedic peoples once dwelt together, had a common stock of savage fables, and a common or kindred language. after their dispersion, the fables admitted discrepancies, as stories in oral circulation occasionally do. this is the only conjecture which i feel justified in suggesting to account for the resemblances and incongruities between the myths of the mare demeter-erinnys and the mare saranyu. totemism totemism to the strange and widely diffused institution of 'totemism' our author often returns. i shall deal here with his collected remarks on the theme, the more gladly as the treatment shows how very far mr. max muller is from acting with a shadow of unfairness when he does not refer to special passages in his opponent's books. he treats himself and his own earlier works in the same fashion, thereby, perhaps, weakening his argument, but also demonstrating his candour, were any such demonstration required. on totems he opens (i. )-- 'when we come to special cases we must not imagine that much can be gained by using such general terms as animism, totemism, fetishism, &c., as solvents of mythological problems. to my mind, all such general terms, not excluding even darwinism or puseyism, seem most objectionable, because they encourage vague thought, vague praise, or vague blame. 'it is, for instance, quite possible to place all worship of animal gods, all avoidance of certain kinds of animal food, all adoption of animal names as the names of men and families, under the wide and capacious cover of totemism. all theriolatry would thus be traced back to totemism. i am not aware, however, that any egyptologists have adopted such a view to account for the animal forms of the egyptian gods. sanskrit scholars would certainly hesitate before seeing in indra a totem because he is called vrishabha, or bull, or before attempting to explain on this ground the abstaining from beef on the part of orthodox hindus [i. ].' totemism defined i think i have defined totemism, { } and the reader may consult mr. frazer's work on the subject, or mr. maclennan's essays, or 'totemism' in the encyclopaedia britannica. however, i shall define totemism once more. it is a state of society and cult, found most fully developed in australia and north america, in which sets of persons, believing themselves to be akin by blood, call each such set by the name of some plant, beast, or other class of objects in nature. one kin may be wolves, another bears, another cranes, and so on. each kin derives its kin-name from its beast, plant, or what not; pays to it more or less respect, usually abstains from killing, eating, or using it (except in occasional sacrifices); is apt to claim descent from or relationship with it, and sometimes uses its effigy on memorial pillars, carved pillars outside huts, tattooed on the skin, and perhaps in other ways not known to me. in australia and north america, where rules are strict, a man may not marry a woman of his own totem; and kinship is counted through mothers in many, but not in all, cases. where all these notes are combined we have totemism. it is plain that two or three notes of it may survive where the others have perished; may survive in ritual and sacrifice, { a} and in bestial or semi-bestial gods of certain nomes, or districts, in ancient egypt; { b} in pictish names; { c} in claims of descent from beasts, or gods in the shape of beasts; in the animals sacred to gods, as apollo or artemis, and so on. such survivals are possible enough in evolution, but the evidence needs careful examination. animal attributes and symbols and names in religion are not necessarily totemistic. mr. max muller asks if 'any egyptologists have adopted' the totem theory. he is apparently oblivious of professor sayce's reference to a prehistoric age, 'when the religious creed of egypt was still totemism.' dr. codrington is next cited for the apparent absence of totemism in the solomon islands and polynesia, and professor oldenberg as denying that 'animal names of persons and clans [necessarily?] imply totemism.' who says that they do? 'clan chattan,' with its cat crest, may be based, not on a totem, but on a popular etymology. animal names of _individuals_ have nothing to do with totems. a man has no business to write on totemism if he does not know these facts. what a totem is though our adversary now abandons totems, he returns to them elsewhere (i. - ). 'totem is the corruption of a term used by north american indians in the sense of clan-mark or sign-board ("ododam").' the totem was originally a rude emblem of an animal or other object 'placed by north american indians in front of their settlements.' the evidence for sign-boards our author's evidence for sign-boards is from an ottawa indian, and is published from his ms. by mr. hoskyns abrahall. { } the testimony is of the greatest merit, for it appears to have first seen the light in a canadian paper of . now in totems were only spoken of in lafitau, long, and such old writers, and in cooper's novels. they had not become subjects of scientific dispute, so the evidence is uncontaminated by theory. the indians were, we learn, divided into [local?] tribes, and these 'into sections or families according to their ododams'--devices, signs, in modern usage 'coats of arms.' [perhaps 'crests' would be a better word.] all people of one ododam (apparently under male kinship) lived together in a special section of each village. at the entrance to the enclosure was the figure of an animal, or some other sign, set up on the top of one of the posts. thus everybody knew what family dwelt in what section of the village. some of the families were called after their ododam. but the family with the bear ododam were called big feet, not bears. sometimes parts of different animals were 'quartered' [my suggestion], and one ododam was a small hawk and the fins of a sturgeon. we cannot tell, of course, on the evidence here, whether 'big feet' suggested 'bear,' or vice versa, or neither. but mr. frazer has remarked that periphrases for sacred beasts, like 'big feet' for bear, are not uncommon. nor can we tell 'what couple of ancestors' a small hawk and a sturgeon's fins represent, unless, perhaps, a hawk and a sturgeon. { a} for all this, mr. max muller suggests the explanation that people who marked their abode with crow or wolf might come to be called wolves or crows. { b} again, people might borrow beast names from the prevalent beast of their district, as arkades, [greek], bears, and so evolve the myth of descent from callisto as a she-bear. 'all this, however, is only guesswork.' the snake indians worship no snake. [the snake indians are not a totem group, but a local tribe named from the snake river, as we say, 'an ettrick man.'] once more, the name-giving beast, say, 'great hare,' is explained by dr. brinton as 'the inevitable dawn.' { c} 'hasty writers,' remarks dr. brinton, 'say that the indians claim descent from different wild beasts.' for evidence i refer to that hasty writer, mr. frazer, and his book, totemism. for a newly sprung up modern totem our author alludes to a boat, among the mandans, 'their totem, or tutelary object of worship.' an object of worship, of course, is not necessarily a totem! nor is a totem by the definition (as a rule one of a _class_ of objects) anything but a _natural_ object. mr. max muller wishes that 'those who write about totems and totemism would tell us exactly what they mean by these words.' i have told him, and indicated better sources. i apply the word totemism to the widely diffused savage institution which i have defined. more about totems the origin of totemism is unknown to me, as to mr. mclennan and dr. robertson smith, but mr. max muller knows this origin. 'a totem is a clan-mark, then a clan-name, then the name of the ancestor of a clan, and lastly the name of something worshipped by a clan' (i. ). 'all this applies in the first instance to red indians only.' yes, and 'clan' applies in the first instance to the scottish clans only! when mr. max muller speaks of 'clans' among the red indians, he uses a word whose connotation differs from anything known to exist in america. but the analogy between a scottish clan and an american totem-kin is close enough to justify mr. max muller in speaking of red indian 'clans.' by parity of reasoning, the analogy between the australian kobong and the american totem is so complete that we may speak of 'totemism' in australia. it would be childish to talk of 'totemism' in north america, 'kobongism' in australia, 'pacarissaism' in the realm of the incas: totems, kobongs, and pacarissas all amounting to the same thing, except in one point. i am not aware that australian blacks erect, or that the subjects of the incas, or that african and indian and asiatic totemists, erected 'sign- boards' anywhere, as the ottawa writer assures us that the ottawas do, or used to do. and, if they don't, how do we know that kobongs and pacarissas were developed out of sign-boards? heraldry and totems the ottawas are armigeri, are heraldic; so are the natives of vancouver's island, who have wooden pillars with elaborate quarterings. examples are in south kensington museum. but this savage heraldry is not nearly so common as the institution of totemism. thus it is difficult to prove that the heraldry is the origin of totemism, which is just as likely, or more likely, to have been the origin of savage heraldic crests and quarterings. mr. max muller allows that there may be other origins. gods and totems our author refers to unnamed writers who call indra or ammon a totem (i. ). this is a foolish liberty with language. 'why should not all the gods of egypt with their heads of bulls and apes and cats be survivals of totemisms?' why not, indeed? professor sayce remarks, 'they were the sacred animals of the clans,' survivals from an age 'when the religion of egypt was totemism.' 'in egypt the gods themselves are totem-deities, i.e. personifications or individual representations of the sacred character and attributes which in the purely totem stage of religion were ascribed without distinction to all animals of the holy kind.' so says dr. robertson smith. he and mr. sayce are 'scholars,' not mere unscholarly anthropologists. { } an objection lastly (ii. ), when totems infected 'even those who ought to have been proof against this infantile complaint' (which is not even a 'disease of language' of a respectable type), then 'the objection that a totem meant originally a clan-mark was treated as scholastic pedantry.' alas, i fear with justice! for if i call mr. arthur balfour a tory will mr. max muller refute my opinion by urging that 'a tory meant originally an irish rapparee,' or whatever the word _did_ originally mean? mr. max muller decides that 'we never find a religion consisting exclusively of a belief in fetishes, or totems, or ancestral spirits.' here, at last, we are in absolute agreement. so much for totems and sign- boards. only a weak fanatic will find a totem in every animal connected with gods, sacred names, and religious symbols. but totemism is a fact, whether 'totem' originally meant a clan-mark or sign-board in america or not. and, like mr. sayce, mr. frazer, mr. rhys, dr. robertson smith, i believe that totemism has left marks in civilised myth, ritual, and religion, and that these survivals, not a 'disease of language,' explain certain odd elements in the old civilisations. a weak brother our author's habit of omitting references to his opponents has here caused me infinite inconvenience. he speaks of some eccentric person who has averred that a 'fetish' is a 'totem,' inhabited by 'an ancestral spirit.' to myself it seems that you might as well say 'abracadabra is gas and gaiters.' as no reference was offered, i invented 'a wild surmise' that mr. max muller had conceivably misapprehended mr. frazer's theory of the origin of totems. had our author only treated himself fairly, he would have referred to his own anthropological religion (pp. and ), where the name of the eccentric definer is given as that of herr lippert. { } then came into my mind the words of professor tiele, 'beware of weak brethren'--such as herr lippert seems, as far as this definition is concerned, to be. nobody knows the origin of totemism. we find no race on its way to becoming totemistic, though we find several in the way of ceasing to be so. they are abandoning female kinship for paternity; their rules of marriage and taboo are breaking down; perhaps various totem kindreds of different crests and names are blending into one local tribe, under the name, perhaps, of the most prosperous totem-kin. but we see no race on its way to becoming totemistic, so we have no historical evidence as to the origin of the institution. mr. mclennan offered no conjecture, professor robertson smith offered none, nor have i displayed the spirit of scientific exactitude by a guess in the dark. to gratify mr. max muller by defining totemism as mr. mclennan first used the term is all that i dare do. here one may remark that if mr. max muller really wants 'an accurate definition' of totemism, the works of mclennan, frazer, robertson smith, and myself are accessible, and contain our definitions. he does not produce these definitions, and criticise them; he produces dr. lippert's and criticises that. an argument should be met in its strongest and most authoritative form. 'define what you mean by a totem,' says professor max muller in his gifford lectures of (p. ). he had to look no further for a definition, an authoritative definition, than to 'totem' in the encyclopaedia britannica, or to mclennan. yet his large and intelligent glasgow audience, and his readers, may very well be under the impression that a definition of 'totem' is 'still to seek,' like prince charlie's religion. controversy simply cannot be profitably conducted on these terms. 'the best representatives of anthropology are now engaged not so much in comparing as in discriminating.' { } why not refer, then, to the results of their discriminating efforts? 'to treat all animal worship as due to totemism is a mistake.' do we make it? mr. frazer and myself there is, or was, a difference of opinion between mr. frazer and myself as to the causes of the appearance of certain sacred animals in greek religion. my notions were published in myth, ritual, and religion ( ), mr. frazer's in the golden bough ( ). necessarily i was unaware in of mr. frazer's still unpublished theory. now that i have read it, he seems to me to have the better logic on his side; and if i do not as yet wholly agree with him, it is because i am not yet certain that both of our theories may not have their proper place in greek mythology. greek totemism in c. and m. (p. ) i describe the social aspects of totemism. i ask if there are traces of it in greece. suppose, for argument's sake, that in prehistoric greece the mouse had been a totem, as it is among the oraons of bengal. { } in that case ( ) places might be named from a mouse tribe; ( ) mice might be held sacred per se; ( ) the mouse name might be given locally to a god who superseded the mouse in pride of place; ( ) images of the mouse might be associated with that of the god, ( ) and used as a local badge or mark; ( ) myths might be invented to explain the forgotten cause of this prominence of the mouse. if all these notes occur, they would raise a presumption in favour of totemism in the past of greece. i then give evidence in detail, proving that all these six facts do occur among greeks of the troads and sporadically elsewhere. i add that, granting for the sake of argument that these traces may point to totemism in the remote past, the mouse, though originally a totem, '_need not have been an aryan totem_' (p. ). i offer a list of other animals closely connected with apollo, giving him a beast's name (wolf, ram, dolphin), and associated with him in myth and art. in m. r. r. i apply similar arguments in the case of artemis and the bear, of dionysus and the bull, demeter and the pig, and so forth. moreover, i account for the myths of descent of greek human families from gods disguised as dogs, ants, serpents, bulls, and swans, on the hypothesis that kindreds who originally, in totemistic fashion, traced to beasts sans phrase, later explained their own myth to themselves by saying that the paternal beast was only a god in disguise and en bonne fortune. this hypothesis at least 'colligates the facts,' and brings them into intelligible relationship with widely-diffused savage institutions and myths. the greek mouse-totem? my theory connecting apollo smintheus and the place-names derived from mice with a possible prehistoric mouse-totem gave me, i confess, considerable satisfaction. but in mr. frazer's golden bough (ii. - ) is published a group of cases in which mice and other vermin are worshipped for prudential reasons--to get them to go away. in the classical review (vol. vi. ) mr. ward fowler quotes aristotle and aelian on plagues of mice, like the recent invasion of voles on the border sheep-farms. he adopts the theory that the sacred mice were adored by way of propitiating them. thus apollo may be connected with mice, not as a god who superseded a mouse-totem, but as an expeller of mice, like the worm-killing heracles, and the locust-heracles, and the locust-apollo. { a} the locust is still painted red, salaamed to, and set free in india, by way of propitiating his companions. { b} thus the mouse-apollo (smintheus) would be merely a god noted for his usefulness in getting rid of mice, and any worship given to mice (feeding them, placing their images on altars, their stamp on coins, naming places after them, and so on) would be mere acts of propitiation. there would be no mouse-totem in the background. i do not feel quite convinced--the mouse being a totem, and a sacred or tabooed animal, in india and egypt. { a} but i am content to remain in a balance of opinion. that the mouse is the night (gubernatis), or the lightning (grohmann), i am disinclined to believe. philologists are very apt to jump at contending meteorological explanations of mice and such small deer without real necessity, and an anthropologist is very apt to jump at an equally unnecessary and perhaps equally undemonstrated totem. philological theory philological mythologists prefer to believe that the forgotten meaning of words produced the results; that the wolf-born apollo ([greek]) originally meant 'light-born apollo,' { b} and that the wolf came in from a confusion between [greek], 'light,' and [greek], a wolf. i make no doubt that philologists can explain sminthian apollo, the dog-apollo, and all the rest in the same way, and account for all the other peculiarities of place-names, myths, works of art, local badges, and so forth. we must then, i suppose, infer that these six traits of the mouse, already enumerated, tally with the traces which actual totemism would or might leave surviving behind it, or which propitiation of mice might leave behind it, by a chance coincidence, determined by forgotten meanings of words. the greek analogy to totemistic facts would be explained, ( ) either by asking for a definition of totemism, and not listening when it is given; or ( ) by maintaining that savage totemism is also a result of a world-wide malady of language, which, in a hundred tongues, produced the same confusions of thought, and consequently the same practices and institutions. nor do i for one moment doubt that the ingenuity of philologists could prove the name of every beast and plant, in every language under heaven, to be a name for the 'inevitable dawn' (max muller), or for the inevitable thunder, or storm, or lightning (kuhn- schwartz). but as names appear to yield storm, lightning, night, or dawn with equal ease and certainty, according as the scholar prefers dawn or storm, i confess that this demonstration would leave me sceptical. it lacks scientific exactitude. mr. frazer on animals in greek religion in the golden bough (ii. ) mr. frazer, whose superior knowledge and acuteness i am pleased to confess, has a theory different from that which i (following mclennan) propounded before the golden bough appeared. greece had a bull-shaped dionysus. { a} 'there is left no room to doubt that in rending and devouring a live bull at his festival, his worshippers believed that they were killing the god, eating his flesh, and drinking his blood.' { b} mr. frazer concludes that there are two possible explanations of dionysus in his bull aspect. ( ) this was an expression of his character as a deity of vegetation, 'especially as the bull is a common embodiment of the corn-spirit in northern europe.' { a} ( ) the other possible explanation 'appears to be the view taken by mr. lang, who suggests that the bull-formed dionysus "had either been developed out of, or had succeeded to, the worship of a bull-totem."' { b} now, anthropologists are generally agreed, i think, that occasional sacrifices of and communion in the flesh of the totem or other sacred animals do occur among totemists. { c} but mr. frazer and i both admit, and indeed are eager to state publicly, that the evidence for sacrifice of the totem, and communion in eating him, is very scanty. the fact is rather inferred from rites among peoples just emerging from totemism (see the case of the californian buzzard, in bancroft) than derived from actual observation. on this head too much has been taken for granted by anthropologists. but i learn that direct evidence has been obtained, and is on the point of publication. the facts i may not anticipate here, but the evidence will be properly sifted, and bias of theory discounted. to return to my theory of the development of dionysus into a totem, or of his inheritance of the rites of a totem, mr. frazer says, 'of course this is possible, but it is not yet certain that aryans ever had totemism.' { d} now, in writing of the mouse, i had taken care to observe that, in origin, the mouse as a totem need not have been aryan, but adopted. people who think that the aryans did not pass through a stage of totemism, female kin, and so forth, can always fall back (to account for apparent survivals of such things among aryans) on 'pre-aryan conquered peoples,' such as the picts. aryans may be enticed by these bad races and become pictis ipsis pictiores. aryan totems (?) generally speaking (and how delightfully characteristic of us all is this!), i see totems in greek sacred beasts, where mr. frazer sees the corn-spirit embodied in a beast, and where mr. max muller sees (in the case of indra, called the bull) 'words meaning simply male, manly, strong,' an 'animal simile.' { a} here, of course, mr. max muller is wholly in the right, when a vedic poet calls indra 'strong bull,' or the like. such poetic epithets do not afford the shadow of a presumption for vedic totemism, even as a survival. mr. frazer agrees with me and mr. max muller in this certainty. i myself say, 'if in the shape of indra there be traces of fur and feather, they are not very numerous nor very distinct, but we give them for what they may be worth.' i then give them. { b} to prove that i do not force the evidence, i take the vedic text. { c} 'his mother, a cow, bore indra, an unlicked calf.' i then give sayana's explanation. indra entered into the body of dakshina, and was reborn of her. she also bore a cow. but this legend, i say, 'has rather the air of being an invention, apres coup, to account for the vedic text of calf indra, born from a cow, than of being a genuine ancient myth.' the vedic myth of indra's amours in shape of a ram, i say 'will doubtless be explained away as metaphorical.' nay, i will go further. it is perfectly conceivable to me that in certain cases a poetic epithet applied by a poet to a god (say bull, ram, or snake) _might_ be misconceived, and _might_ give rise to the worship of a god as a bull, or snake, or ram. further, if civilised ideas perished, and if a race retained a bull-god, born of their degradation and confusion of mind, they might eat him in a ritual sacrifice. but that _all_ totemistic races are totemistic, because they all first metaphorically applied animal names to gods, and then forgot what they had meant, and worshipped these animals, sans phrase, appears to me to be, if not incredible, still greatly in want of evidence. mr. frazer and i it is plain that where a people claim no connection by descent and blood from a sacred animal, are neither of his name nor kin, the essential feature of totemism is absent. i do not see that eaters of the bull dionysus or cultivators of the pig demeter { } made any claim to kindred with either god. their towns were not allied in name with pig or bull. if traces of such a belief existed, they have been sloughed off. thus mr. frazer's explanation of greek pigs and bulls and all their odd rites, as connected with the beast in which the corn-spirit is incarnate, holds its ground better than my totemistic suggestion. but i am not sure that the corn-spirit accounts for the sminthian mouse in all his aspects, nor for the arcadian and attic bear-rites and myths of artemis. mouse and bear do appear in mr. frazer's catalogue of forms of the corn-spirits, taken from mannhardt. { } but the arcadians, as we shall see, _claimed descent_ from a bear, and the mouse place-names and badges of the troad yield a hint of the same idea. the many greek family claims to descent from gods as dogs, bulls, ants, serpents, and so on, _may_ spring from gratitude to the corn-spirit. does mr. frazer think so? nobody knows so well as he that similar claims of descent from dogs and snakes are made by many savage kindreds who have no agriculture, no corn, and, of course, no corn-spirits. these remarks, i trust, are not undiscriminating, and naturally i yield the bull dionysus and the pig demeter to the corn-spirit, vice totem, superseded. but i do hanker after the arcadian bear as, at least, a possible survival of totemism. the scottish school inspector removed a picture of behemoth, as a fabulous animal, from the wall of a school room. but, not being sure of the natural history of the unicorn, 'he just let him bide, and gave the puir beast the benefit o' the doubt.' will mr. frazer give the arcadian bear 'the benefit of the doubt'? i am not at all bigoted in the opinion that the greeks may have once been totemists. the strongest presumption in favour of the hypothesis is the many claims of descent from a god disguised as a beast. but the institution, if ever it did exist among the ancestors of the greeks, had died out very long before homer. we cannot expect to find traces of the prohibition to marry a woman of the same totem. in rome we do find traces of exogamy, as among totemists. 'formerly they did not marry women connected with them by blood.' { a} but we do not find, and would not expect to find, that the 'blood' was indicated by the common totem. mr. frazer on origin of totemism mr. frazer has introduced the term 'sex-totems,' in application to australia. this is connected with his theory of the origin of totemism. i cannot quite approve of the term sex-totems. if in australia each sex has a protecting animal--the men a bat, the women an owl--if the slaying of a bat by a woman menaces the death of a man, if the slaying of an owl by a woman may cause the decease of a man, all that is very unlike totemism in other countries. therefore, i ask mr. frazer whether, in the interests of definite terminology, he had not better give some other name than 'totem' to his australian sex protecting animals? he might take for a _local_ fact, a _local_ name, and say 'sex- kobong.' once more, for even we anthropologists have our bickerings, i would 'hesitate dislike' of this passage in mr. frazer's work: { b} 'when a savage _names himself_ after an animal, calls it his brother, and refuses to kill it, the animal is said to be his totem.' distinguo! a savage does not name _himself_ after his totem, any more than mr. frazer named himself by his clan-name, originally norman. it was not as when miss betty amory named herself 'blanche,' by her own will and fantasy. a savage _inherits_ his totem name, usually through the mother's side. the special animal which protects an individual savage (zapotec, tona; guatemalan, nagual; north america, manitou, 'medicine') is _not_ that savage's totem. { a} the nagual, tona, or manitou is selected for each particular savage, at birth or puberty, in various ways: in america, north and central, by a dream in a fast, or after a dream. ('post-hypnotic suggestion.') but a savage is born to his kin-totem. a man is born a wolf of the delawares, his totem is the wolf, he cannot help himself. but after, or in, his medicine fast and sleep, he may choose a dormouse or a squirrel for his manitou (tona, nagual) or _private_ protecting animal. these are quite separate from totems, as mr. max muller also points out. of totems, i, for one, must always write in the sense of mr. mclennan, who introduced totemism to science. thus, to speak of 'sex-totems,' or to call the protecting animal of each individual a 'totem,' is, i fear, to bring in confusion, and to justify mr. max muller's hard opinion that 'totemism' is ill-defined. for myself, i use the term in the strict sense which i have given, and in no other. mr. mclennan did not profess, as we saw, to know the origin of totems. he once made a guess in conversation with me, but he abandoned it. professor robertson smith did not know the origin of totems. 'the origin of totems is as much a problem as the origin of local gods.' { b} mr. max muller knows the origin: sign-boards are the origin, or one origin. but what was the origin of sign-boards? 'we carry the pictures of saints on our banners because we worship them; we don't worship them because we carry them as banners,' says de brosses, an acute man. did the indians worship totems because they carved them on sign-boards (if they all did so), or did they carve them on sign-boards because they worshipped them? mr. frazer's theory the australian respects his 'sex-totem' because the life of his sex is bound up in its life. he speaks of it as his brother, and calls himself (as distinguished by his sex) by its name. as a man he is a bat, as a woman his wife is an owl. as a member of a given human kin he may be a kangaroo, perhaps his wife may be an emu. but mr. frazer derives totemism, all the world over, from the same origin as he assigns to 'sex- totems.' in these the life of each sex is bound up, therefore they are by each sex revered. therefore totemism must have the same origin, substituting 'kin' or 'tribe' for sex. he gives examples from australia, in which killing a man's totem killed the man. { } i would respectfully demur or suggest delay. can we explain an american institution, a fairly world-wide institution, totemism, by the local peculiarities of belief in isolated australia? if, in america, to kill a wolf was to kill uncas or chingachgook, i would incline to agree with mr. frazer. but no such evidence is adduced. nor does it help mr. frazer to plead that the killing of an american's nagual or of a zulu's ihlozi kills that zulu or american. for a nagual, as i have shown, is one thing and a totem is another; nor am i aware that zulus are totemists. the argument of mr. frazer is based on analogy and on a special instance. that instance of the australians is so archaic that it _may_ show totemism in an early form. mr. frazer's may be a correct hypothesis, but it needs corroboration. however, mr. frazer concludes: 'the totem, if i am right, is simply the receptacle in which a man keeps his life.' yet he never shows that a choctaw _does_ keep his life in his totem. perhaps the choctaw is afraid to let out so vital a secret. the less reticent australian blurts it forth. suppose the hypothesis correct. men and women keep their lives in their naguals, private sacred beasts. but why, on this score, should a man be afraid to make love to a woman of the same nagual? have red indian _women_ any naguals? i never heard of them. since writing this i have read miss kingsley's travels in west africa. there the 'bush-souls' which she mentions (p. ) bear analogies to totems, being inherited sacred animals, connected with the life of members of families. the evidence, though vaguely stated, favours mr. frazer's hypothesis, to which miss kingsley makes no allusion. the validity of anthropological evidence anthropological evidence in all that we say of totemism, as, later, of fetishism, we rely on an enormous mass of evidence from geographers, historians, travellers, settlers, missionaries, explorers, traders, civil servants, and european officers of native police in australia and burmah. our witnesses are of all ages, from herodotus to our day, of many nations, of many creeds, of different theoretical opinions. this evidence, so world-wide, so diversified in source, so old, and so new, mr. max muller impugns. but, before meeting his case, let us clear up a personal question. 'positions one never held' 'it is not pleasant [writes our author] to have to defend positions which one never held, nor wishes to hold, and i am therefore all the more grateful to those who have pointed out the audacious misrepresentations of my real opinion in comparative mythology, and have rebuked the flippant tone of some of my eager critics' [i. , ]. i must here confess to the belief that no gentleman or honest man ever _consciously_ misrepresents the ideas of an opponent. if it is not too flippant an illustration, i would say that no bowler ever throws consciously and wilfully; his action, however, may unconsciously develop into a throw. there would be no pleasure in argument, cricket, or any other sport if we knowingly cheated. thus it is always _unconsciously_ that adversaries pervert, garble, and misrepresent each other's opinions; unconsciously, not 'audaciously.' if people would start from the major premise that misrepresentations, if such exist, are unconscious errors, much trouble would be spared. positions which i never held thus mr. max muller never dreamed of 'audaciously misrepresenting' me when, in four lines, he made two statements about my opinions and my materials which are at the opposite pole from the accurate (i. ): 'when i speak of the vedic rishis as primitive, i do not mean what mr. a. lang means when he calls his savages primitive.' but i have stated again and again that i _don't_ call my savages 'primitive.' thus 'contemporary savages may be degraded, they certainly are not primitive.' { a} 'one thing about the past of [contemporary] savages we do know: it must have been a long past.' { b} 'we do not wish to call savages primitive.' { c} all this was written in reply to the very proper caution of dr. fairbairn that 'savages are not primitive.' of course they are not; that is of the essence of my theory. i regret the use of the word 'primitive' even in primitive culture. savages, as a rule, are _earlier_, more backward than civilised races, as, of course, mr. max muller admits, where language is concerned. { } now, after devoting several pages to showing in detail how very far from primitive even the australian tribes are, might i (if i were ill-natured) not say that mr. max muller 'audaciously misrepresents' me when he avers that i 'call my savages primitive'? but he never dreamed of misrepresenting me; he only happened not to understand my position. however, as he complains in his own case, 'it is not pleasant to have to defend positions which one never held' (i. ), and, indeed, i shall defend no such position. my adversary next says that my 'savages are of the nineteenth century.' it is of the essence of my theory that my savages are of many different centuries. those described by herodotus, strabo, dio cassius, christoval de moluna, sahagun, cieza de leon, brebeuf, garoilasso de la vega, lafitau, nicholas damascenus, leo africanus, and a hundred others, are _not_ of the nineteenth century. this fact is essential, because the evidence of old writers, from herodotus to egede, corroborates the evidence of travellers, indian civil servants, and missionaries of today, by what dr. tylor, when defending our materials, calls 'the test of recurrence.' professor millar used the same argument in his origin of rank, in the last century. thus mr. max muller unconsciously misrepresents me (and my savages) when he says that my 'savages are of the nineteenth century.' the fact is the reverse. they are of many centuries. these two unconscious misrepresentations occur in four consecutive lines. anthropological evidence in connection with this topic (the nature of anthropological evidence), mr. max muller (i. - ) repeats what he has often said before. thus he cites dr. codrington's remarks, most valuable remarks, on the difficulty of reporting correctly about the ideas and ways of savages. i had cited the same judicious writer to the same effect, { } and had compiled a number of instances in which the errors of travellers were exposed, and their habitual fallacies were detected. fifteen closely printed pages were devoted by me to a criterion of evidence, and a reply to mr. max muller's oft-repeated objections. 'when [i said] we find dr. codrington taking the same precautions in melanesia as mr. sproat took among the ahts, and when his account of melanesian myths reads like a close copy of mr. sproat's account of aht legends, and when both are corroborated [as to the existence of analogous savage myths] by the collections of bleek, and hahn, and gill, and castren, and rink, in far different corners of the world; while the modern testimony of these scholarly men is in harmony with that of the old jesuit missionaries, and of untaught adventurers who have lived for many years with savages, surely it will be admitted that the difficulty of ascertaining savage opinion has been, to a great extent, overcome.' i also cited at length dr. tylor's masterly argument to the same effect, an argument offered by him to 'a great historian,' apparently. mr. max muller's method of controversy now no member of the reading public, perusing mr. max muller on anthropological evidence (i. - , - ), could guess that his cautions about evidence are not absolutely new to us. he could not guess that dr. tylor replied to them 'before they were made' by our present critic (i think), and that i did the same with great elaboration. our defence of our evidence is not noticed by mr. max muller. he merely repeats what he has often said before on the subject, exactly as if anthropologists were ignorant of it, and had not carefully studied, assimilated, profited by it, and answered it. our critic and monitor might have said, 'i have examined your test of _recurrences_, and what else you have to urge, and, for such and such reasons, i must reject it.' then we could reconsider our position in this new light. but mr. max muller does not oblige us in this way. mr. max muller on our evidence in an earlier work, the gifford lectures for , { } our author had devoted more space to a criticism of our evidence. to this, then, we turn (pp. - , - ). passing mr. max muller's own difficulties in understanding a mohawk (which the mohawk no doubt also felt in understanding mr. max muller), we reach (p. ) the fables about godless savages. these, it is admitted, are exploded among scholars in anthropology. so we do, at least, examine evidence. mr. max muller now fixes on a flagrant case, some fables about the godless mincopies of the andaman islands. but _he_ relies on the evidence of mr. man. so do i, as far as it seems beyond doubt. { a} mr. man is 'a careful observer, a student of language, and perfectly trustworthy.' these are the reasons for which i trust him. but when mr. man says that the mincopies have a god, puluga, who inhabits 'a stone house in the sky,' i remark, 'here the idea of the stone house is necessarily borrowed from our stone houses at port blair.' { b} when mr. man talks of puluga's only-begotten son, 'a sort of archangel,' medium between puluga and the angels, i 'hesitate a doubt.' did not this idea reach the mincopie mind from the same quarter as the stone house, especially as puluga's wife is 'a green shrimp or an eel'? at all events, it is right to bear in mind that, as the stone house of the mincopie heaven is almost undeniably of european origin, the only-begotten mediating son of puluga and the green shrimp _may_ bear traces of christian teaching. caution is indicated. does mr. max muller, so strict about evidence, boggle at the stone house, the only son, the shrimp? not he; he never hints at the shrimp! does he point out that one anthropologist has asked for caution in weighing what the mincopies told mr. man? very far from that, he complains that 'the old story is repeated again and again' about the godless andamans. { c} the intelligent glasgow audience could hardly guess that anthropologists were watchful, and knew pretty well what to believe about the mincopies. perhaps in glasgow they do not read us anthropologists much. on p. our author returns to the charge. he observes (as i have also observed) the often contradictory nature of our evidence. here i may offer an anecdote. the most celebrated of living english philosophers heard that i was at one time writing a book on the 'ghostly' in history, anthropology, and society, old or new, savage or civilised. he kindly dictated a letter to me asking how i could give time and pains to any such marvels. for, he argued, the most unveracious fables were occasionally told about himself in newspapers and social gossip. if evidence cannot be trusted about a living and distinguished british subject, how can it be accepted about hallucinations? i replied, with respect, that on this principle nothing could be investigated at all. history, justice, trade, everything would be impossible. we must weigh and criticise evidence. as my friendly adviser had written much on savage customs and creeds, he best knew that conflicting testimony, even on his own chosen theme, is not peculiar to ghost stories. in a world of conflicting testimony we live by criticising it. thus, when mr. max muller says that i call my savages 'primitive,' and when i, on the other hand, quote passages in which i explicitly decline to do so, the evidence as to my views is contradictory. yet the truth can be discovered by careful research. the application is obvious. we must not despair of truth! as our monitor says, 'we ought to discard all evidence that does not come to us either from a man who was able himself to converse with native races, or who was at least an eye-witness of what he relates.' precisely, that is our method. i, for one, do not take even a ghost story at second hand, much less anything so startling as a savage rite. and we discount and allow for every bias and prejudice of our witnesses. i have made a list of these idola in m. r. r. ii. - . mr. max muller now gives a list of inconsistencies in descriptions of australian blacks. they are _not_ blacks, they have a dash of copper colour! well, i never said that they had 'the sooty tinge of the african negro.' did anybody? mr. ridley thinks that all natives are called 'murri.' mr. curr says 'no.' important. we must reserve our judgment. missionaries say the blacks are 'devoid of moral ideas.' what missionaries? what anthropologist believes such nonsense? there are differences of opinion about landed property, communal or private. the difference rages among historians of civilised races. so, also, as to portable property. mr. curr (mr. max muller's witness) agrees here with those whose works i chiefly rely on. 'mr. mclennan has built a whole social theory on the statement' (a single statement) 'made by sir george grey, and contradicted by mr. curr.' mr. mclennan would be, i think, rather surprised at this remark; but what would he do? why, he would re-examine the whole question, decide by the balance of evidence, and reject, modify, or retain his theory accordingly. all sciences have to act in this way; therefore almost all scientific theories are fluctuating. nothing here is peculiar to anthropology. a single word, or two or three, will prove or disprove a theory of phonetic laws. even phonetics are disputable ground. in defence of my late friend mr. mclennan, i must point out that if he built a whole social theory on a single statement of sir george grey's, and if mr. curr denies the truth of the statement, mr. frazer has produced six or seven witnesses to the truth of that very statement in other parts of the world than australia. { } to this circumstance we may return. mr. max muller next produces mr. curr's opinions about the belief in a god and morality among australians. 'here he really contradicts himself.' the disputable evidence about australian marriage laws is next shown to be disputable. that is precisely why dr. tylor is applying to it his unrivalled diligence in accurate examination. we await his results. finally, the contradictory evidence as to tasmanian religion is exposed. we have no codrington or bleek for tasmania. the tasmanians are extinct, and science should leave the evidence as to their religion out of her accounts. we cannot cross-examine defunct tasmanians. from all this it follows that anthropologists must sift and winnow their evidence, like men employed in every other branch of science. and who denies it? what anthropologist of mark accepts as gospel any casual traveller's tale? the test of recurrences even for travellers' tales we have a use, we can apply to them dr. tylor's 'test of recurrences.' 'if two independent visitors to different countries, say a mediaeval mahommedan in tartary and a modern englishman in dahomey, or a jesuit missionary in brazil and a wesley an in the fiji islands, agree in describing some analogous art, or rite, or myth among the people they have visited, it becomes difficult or impossible to set down such correspondence to accident or wilful fraud. a story by a bushranger in australia may perhaps be objected to as a mistake or an invention, but did a methodist minister in guinea conspire with him to cheat the public by telling the same story there?' the whole passage should be read: it was anticipated by professor millar in his origin of rank, and has been restated by myself. { a} thus i wrote (in ) 'it is to be regretted that mr. max muller entirely omits to mention . . . the corroboration which is derived from the undesigned coincidence of independent testimony.' in - he still entirely omits to mention, to his glasgow audience, the strength of his opponents' case. he would serve us better if he would criticise the test of recurrences, and show us its weak points. bias of theory yes, our critic may reply, 'but mr. curr thinks that there is a strong tendency in observers abroad, if they have become acquainted with a new and startling theory that has become popular at home, to see confirmations of it everywhere.' so i had explicitly stated in commenting on dr. tylor's test of recurrences. { b} 'travellers and missionaries have begun to read anthropological books, and their evidence is, therefore, much more likely to be biassed now by anthropological theories than it was of old.' so mr. mclennan, in the very earliest of all writings on totemism, said: 'as the totem has not till now got itself mixed up with speculations the observers have been unbiassed.' mr. mclennan finally declined to admit any evidence as to the savage marriage laws collected after his own theory, and other theories born from it, had begun to bias observers of barbaric tribes. it does not quite seem to me that mr. max muller makes his audience acquainted with these precautions of anthropologists, with their sedulous sifting of evidence, and watchfulness against the theoretical bias of observers. thus he assails the faible, not the fort of our argument, and may even seem not to be aware that we have removed the faible by careful discrimination. what opinion must his readers, who know not mr. mclennan's works, entertain about that acute and intrepid pioneer, a man of warm temper, i admit, a man who threw out his daringly original theory at a heat, using at first such untrustworthy materials as lay at hand, but a man whom disease could not daunt, and whom only death prevented from building a stately edifice on the soil which he was the first to explore? our author often returns to the weakness of the evidence of travellers and missionaries. concerning missionaries here is an example of a vivacite in our censor. 'with regard to ghosts and spirits among the melanesians, our authorities, whether missionaries, traders, or writers on ethnology, are troubled by no difficulties' (i. ). yet on this very page mr. max muller has been citing the 'difficulties' which _do_ 'trouble' a 'missionary,' dr. codrington. and, for my own part, when i want information about melanesian beliefs, it is to dr. codrington's work that i go. { } the doctor, himself a missionary, ex hypothesi 'untroubled by difficulties,' has just been quoted by mr. max muller, and by myself, as a witness to the difficulties which trouble himself and us. what can mr. max muller possibly mean? am i wrong? was dr. codrington _not_ a missionary? at all events, he is the authority on melanesia, a 'high' authority (i. ). the philological method in anthropology mr. max muller as ethnologist our author is apt to remonstrate with his anthropological critics, and to assure them that he also has made studies in ethnology. 'i am not such a despairer of ethnology as some ethnologists would have me.' he refers us to the assistance which he lent in bringing out dr. hahn's tsuni-goam ( ), mr. gill's myths and songs from the south pacific ( ), and probably other examples could be added. but my objection is, not that we should be ungrateful to mr. max muller for these and other valuable services to anthropology, but that, when he has got his anthropological material, he treats it in what i think the wrong way, or approves of its being so treated. here, indeed, is the irreconcilable difference between two schools of mythological interpretation. given dr. hahn's book, on hottentot manners and religion: the anthropologist compares the hottentot rites, beliefs, social habits, and general ideas with those of other races known to him, savage or civilised. a hottentot custom, which has a meaning among hottentots, may exist where its meaning is lost, among greeks or other 'aryans.' a story of a hottentot god, quite a natural sort of tale for a hottentot to tell, may be told about a god in greece, where it is contrary to the greek spirit. we infer that the greeks perhaps inherited it from savage ancestors, or borrowed it from savages. names of savage gods this is the method, and if we can also get a scholar to analyse the _names_ of hottentot gods, we are all the luckier, that is, if his processes and inferences are _logical_. may we not decide on the _logic_ of scholars? but, just as mr. max muller points out to us the dangers attending our evidence, we point out to him the dangers attending his method. in dr. hahn's book, the doctor analyses the meaning of the name tsuni-goam and other names, discovers their original sense, and from that sense explains the myths about hottentot divine beings. here we anthropologists first ask mr. max muller, before accepting dr. hahn's etymologies, to listen to other scholars about the perils and difficulties of the philological analysis of divine names, even in aryan languages. i have already quoted his 'defender,' dr. tiele. 'the philological method is inadequate and misleading, when it is a question of ( ) discovering the origin of a myth, or ( ) the physical explanation of the oldest myths, or ( ) of accounting for the rude and obscene element in the divine legends of civilised races.' to the two former purposes dr. hahn applies the philological method in the case of tsuni-goam. other scholars agree with dr. tiele. mannhardt, as we said, held that mr. max muller's favourite etymological 'equations,' sarameya=hermeias; saranyu=demeter-erinnys; kentauros=gandharvas and others, would not stand criticism. 'the method in its practical working shows a lack of the historical sense,' said mannhardt. curtius--a scholar, as mr. max muller declares (i. )--says, 'it is especially difficult to conjecture the meaning of proper names, and above all of local and mythical names.' { a} i do not see that it is easier when these names are not greek, but hottentot, or algonquin! thus achilles may as easily mean 'holder of the people' as 'holder of stones,' i.e. a river-god! or does [greek] suggest aqua, achelous the river? leto, mother of apollo, cannot be from [greek], as mr. max muller holds (ii. , ), to which mr. max muller replies, perhaps not, as far as the phonetic rules go 'which determine the formation of appellative nouns. it, indeed, would be extraordinary if it were. . . .' the phonetic rules in hottentot may also suggest difficulties to a south african curtius! other scholars agree with curtius--agree in thinking that the etymology of mythical names is a sandy foundation for the science of mythology. 'the difficult task of interpreting mythical names has, so far, produced few certain results,' says otto schrader. { b} when dr. hahn applies the process in hottentot, we urge with a friendly candour these cautions from scholars on mr. max muller. a hottentot god in custom and myth (p. ), i examine the logic by which dr. hahn proves tsuni-goam to be 'the red dawn.' one of his steps is to say that few means 'sore,' or 'wounded,' and that a wound is _red_, so he gets his 'red' in red dawn. but of tsu in the sense of 'red' he gives not one example, while he does give another word for 'red,' or 'bloody.' this may be scholarly but it is not evidence, and this is only one of many perilous steps on ground extremely scabreux, got over by a series of logical leaps. as to our quarrel with mr. max muller about his friend's treatment of ethnological materials, it is this: we do not believe in the validity of the etymological method when applied to many old divine names in greek, still less in hottentot. cause of our scepticism our scepticism is confirmed by the extraordinary diversity of opinion among scholars as to what the right analysis of old divine names is. mr. max muller writes (i. ): 'i have never been able to extract from my critics the title of a single book in which my etymologies and my mythological equations had been seriously criticised by real scholars.' we might answer, 'why tell you what you know very well?' for (i. ) you say that while signer canizzaro calls some of your 'equations' 'irrefutably demonstrated,' 'other scholars declare these equations are futile and impossible.' do these other scholars criticise your equations not 'seriously'? or are you ignorant of the names of their works? another case. our author says that 'many objections were raised' to his 'equation' of athene=ahana='dawn' (ii. , , &c.). have the objections ceased? here are a few scholars who do not, or did not, accept athene=ahana: welcker, benfey, curtius, preller, furtwangler, schwartz, and now bechtel (i. ). mr. max muller thinks that he is right, but, till scholars agree, what can we do but wait? phonetic bickerings the evidence turns on theories of phonetic laws as they worked in pre- homeric greece. but these laws, as they apply to common ordinary words, need _not_, we are told, be applied so strictly to proper names, as of gods and heroes. these are a kind of comets, and their changes cannot be calculated like the changes of vulgar words, which answer to stars (i. ). mr. max muller 'formerly agreed with curtius that phonetic rules should be used against proper names with the same severity as against ordinary nouns and verbs.' benfey and welcker protested, so does professor victor henry. 'it is not fair to demand from mythography the rigorous observation of phonetics' (i. ). 'this may be called backsliding,' our author confesses, and it _does_ seem rather a 'go-as- you-please' kind of method. phonetic rules mr. max muller argues at length (and, to my ignorance, persuasively) in favour of a genial laxity in the application of phonetic rules to old proper names. do they apply to these as strictly as to ordinary words? 'this is a question that has often been asked . . . but it has never been boldly answered' (i. ). mr. max muller cannot have forgotten that curtius answered boldly--in the negative. 'without such rigour all attempts at etymology are impossible. for this very reason ethnologists and mythologists should make themselves acquainted with the simple principles of comparative philology.' { } but it is not for us to settle such disputes of scholars. meanwhile their evidence is derived from their private interpretations of old proper names, and they differ among themselves as to whether, in such interpretations, they should or should not be governed strictly by phonetic laws. then what mr. max muller calls 'the usual bickerings' begin among scholars (i. ). and mr. max muller connects ouranos with vedic varuna, while wackernagel prefers to derive it from [greek], urine, and this from [greek]=sk. varshayami, to rain (ii. , ), and so it goes on for years with a glorious uncertainty. if mr. max muller's equations are scientifically correct, the scholars who accept them not must all be unscientific. or else, this is not science at all. basis of a science a science in its early stages, while the validity of its working laws in application to essential cases is still undetermined, must, of course, expect 'bickerings.' but philological mythologists are actually trying to base one science, mythology, on the still shifting and sandy foundations of another science, phonetics. the philologists are quarrelling about their 'equations,' and about the application of their phonetic laws to mythical proper names. on the basis of this shaking soil, they propose to build _another_ science, mythology! then, pleased with the scientific exactitude of their evidence, they object to the laxity of ours. philology in action--indra as an example of the philological method with a vedic god, take indra. i do not think that science is ever likely to find out the whole origins of any god. even if his name mean 'sky,' dyaus, zeus, we must ask what mode of conceiving 'sky' is original. was 'sky' thought of as a person, and, if so, as a savage or as a civilised person; as a god, sans phrase; as the inanimate visible vault of heaven; as a totem, or how? indra, like other gods, is apt to evade our observation, in his origins. mr. max muller asks, 'what should we gain if we called indra . . . a totem?' who does? if we derive his name from the same root as 'ind-u,' _raindrop_, then 'his starting-point was the rain' (i. ). roth preferred 'idh,' 'indh,' _to kindle_; and later, his taste and fancy led him to 'ir,' or 'irv,' _to have power over_. he is variously regarded as god of 'bright firmament,' of air, of thunderstorm personified, and so forth. { } his name is not detected among other aryan gods, and his birth may be _after_ the 'aryan separation' (ii. ). but surely his name, even so, might have been carried to the greeks? this, at least, should not astonish mr. max muller. one had supposed that dyaus and zeus were separately developed, by peoples of india and greece, from a common, pre-separation, aryan root. one had not imagined that the greeks _borrowed_ divine names from sanskrit and from india. but this, too, might happen! (ii. ). mr. max muller asks, 'why should not a cloud or air goddess _of india_, whether called svara or urvasi, have supplied the first germs from which [greek] descended?' why not, indeed, if prehistoric greeks were in touch with india? i do not say they were not. why should not a vedic or sanskrit goddess of india supply the first germs of a greek goddess? (ii. p. ). why, because 'greek gods have never been vedic gods, but both greek and vedic gods have started from the same germs' (ii. ). our author has answered his own question, but he seems at intervals to suppose, contrary to his own principles, as i understand them, that greek _may_ be 'derived from' vedic divine names, or, at least, divine names in sanskrit. all this is rather confusing. obscuring the veda if indra is called 'bull,' that at first only meant 'strong' (ii. ). yet 'some very thoughtful scholars' see traces of totemism in indra! { a} mr. max muller thinks that this theory is 'obscuring the veda by this kind of light from the dark continent' (america, it seems). indra is said to have been born from a cow, like the african heitsi eibib. { b} there are unholy stories about indra and rams. but i for one, as i have said already, would never deny that these _may_ be part of the pleasant unconscious poetry of the vedic hymnists. indra's legend is rich in savage obscenities; they may, or may not, be survivals from savagery. at all events one sees no reason why we should not freely compare parallel savageries, and why this should 'obscure' the veda. comparisons are illuminating. criticism of fetishism mischief of comparisons in comparative mythology not always are comparisons illuminating, it seems. our author writes, 'it may be said--in fact, it has been said--that there can at all events be no harm in simply placing the myths and customs of savages side by side with the myths and customs of hindus and greeks.' (this, in fact, is the method of the science of institutions.) 'but experience shows that this is not so' (i. ). so we must not, should not, simply place the myths and customs of savages side by side with those of hindus and greeks. it is taboo. dr. oldenberg now dr. oldenberg, it seems, uses such comparisons of savage and aryan faiths. dr. oldenberg is (i. ) one of several '_very thoughtful scholars_' who do so, who break mr. max muller's prohibition. yet (ii. ) '_no true scholar_ would accept any comparison' between savage fables and the folklore of homer and the vedas 'as really authoritative _until fully demonstrated on both sides_.' well, it _is_ 'fully demonstrated,' or 'a very thoughtful scholar' (like dr. oldenberg) would not accept it. or it is _not_ demonstrated, and then dr. oldenberg, though 'a very thoughtful,' is not 'a true scholar.' comparisons, when odious once more, mr. max muller deprecates the making of comparisons between savage and vedic myths (i. ), and then (i. ) he deprecates the _acceptance_ of these very comparisons 'as really authoritative until fully demonstrated.' now, how is the validity of the comparisons to be 'fully demonstrated' if we are forbidden to make them at all, because to do so is to 'obscure' the veda 'by light from the dark continent'? a question of logic i am not writing 'quips and cranks;' i am dealing quite gravely with the author's processes of reasoning. 'no true scholar' does what 'very thoughtful scholars' do. no comparisons of savage and vedic myths should be made, but yet, 'when fully demonstrated,' 'true scholars would accept them' (i , ). how can comparisons be demonstrated before they are made? and made they must not be! 'scholars' it would be useful if mr. max muller were to define 'scholar,' 'real scholar,' 'true scholar,' 'very thoughtful scholar.' the latter may err, and have erred--like general councils, and like dr. oldenberg, who finds in the veda 'remnants of the wildest and rawest essence of religion,' totemism, and the rest (i. ). i was wont to think that 'scholar,' as used by our learned author, meant 'philological mythologist,' as distinguished from 'not-scholar,' that is, 'anthropological mythologist.' but now 'very thoughtful scholars,' even dr. oldenberg, mr. rhys, dr. robertson smith, and so on, use the anthropological method, so 'scholar' needs a fresh definition. the 'not-scholars,' the anthropologists, have, in fact, converted some very thoughtful scholars. if we could only catch the _true_ scholar! but that we cannot do till we fully demonstrate comparisons which we may not make, for fear of first 'obscuring the veda by this kind of light from the dark continent.' anthropology and the mysteries it is not my affair to defend dr. oldenberg, whose comparisons of vedic with savage rites i have never read, i am sorry to say. one is only arguing that the _method_ of making such comparisons is legitimate. thus (i. ) controversy, it seems, still rages among scholars as to 'the object of the eleusinian mysteries.' 'does not the scholar's conscience warn us against accepting whatever in the myths and customs of the zulus seems to suit our purpose'--of explaining features in the eleusinia? if zulu customs, and they alone, contained eleusinian parallels, even the anthropologist's conscience would whisper caution. but this is not the case. north american, australian, african, and other tribes have mysteries very closely and minutely resembling parts of the rites of the eleusinia, dionysia, and thesmophoria. thus lobeck, a scholar, describes the rhombos used in the dionysiac mysteries, citing clemens alexandrinus. { } thanks to dr. tylor's researches i was able to show (what lobeck knew not) that the rhombos (australian turndun, 'bull-roarer') is also used in australian, african, american, and other savage religious mysteries. now should i have refrained from producing this well-attested matter of fact till i knew australian, american, and african languages as well as i know greek? 'what century will it be when there will be scholars who know the dialects of the australian blacks as well as we know the dialects of greece?' (i. ) asks our author. and what in the name of eleusis have dialects to do with the circumstance that savages, like greeks, use rhombi in their mysteries? there are abundant other material facts, visible palpable objects and practices, which savage mysteries have in common with the greek mysteries. { } if observed by deaf men, when used by dumb men, instead of by scores of europeans who could talk the native languages, these illuminating rites of savages would still be evidence. they have been seen and described often, not by 'a casual native informant' (who, perhaps, casually invented greek rites, and falsely attributed them to his tribesmen), but by educated europeans. abstract ideas of savages mr. max muller defends, with perfect justice, the existence of abstract ideas among contemporary savages. it appears that somebody or other has said--'we have been told' (i. )--'that all this' (the mangaian theory of the universe) 'must have come from missionaries.' the ideas are as likely to have come from hegel as from a missionary! therefore, 'instead of looking for idols, or for totems and fetishes, we must learn and accept what the savages themselves are able to tell us. . . . ' yes, we _must_ learn and accept it; so i have always urged. but if the savages tell us about totems, are they not then 'casual native informants'? if a maori tells you, as he does, of traditional hymns containing ideas worthy of heraclitus, is _that_ quite trustworthy; whereas, if he tells you about his idols and taboos, _that_ cannot possibly be worthy of attention? perception of the infinite from these extraordinary examples of abstract thought in savages, our author goes on to say that his theory of 'the perception of the infinite' as the origin of religion was received 'with a storm of unfounded obloquy' (i. ). i myself criticised the hibbert lectures, in mind; { } on reading the essay over, i find no obloquy and no storm. i find, however, that i deny, what our author says that i assert, the primitiveness of contemporary savages. in that essay, which, of course, our author had no reason to read, much was said about fetishism, a topic discussed by mr. max muller in his hibbert lectures. fetishism is, as he says, an ill word, and has caused much confusion. fetishism and anthropological method throughout much of his work our author's object is to invalidate the anthropological method. that method sets side by side the customs, ideas, fables, myths, proverbs, riddles, rites, of different races. of their _languages_ it does not necessarily take account in this process. nobody (as we shall see) knows the languages of all, or of most, of the races whose ideas he compares. now the learned professor establishes the 'harm done' by our method in a given instance. he seems to think that, if a method has been misapplied, therefore the method itself is necessarily erroneous. the case stands thus: de brosses { a} first compared 'the so-called fetishes' of the gold coast with greek and roman amulets and other material objects of old religions. but he did this, we learn, without trying to find out _why_ a negro made a fetish of a pebble, shell, or tiger's tail, and without endeavouring to discover whether the negro's motives really were the motives of his 'postulated fetish worship' in greece, rome, or palestine. origin of fetishes if so, tant pis pour monsieur le president. but how does the unscientific conduct attributed to de brosses implicate the modern anthropologist? do _we_ not try to find out, and really succeed sometimes in finding out, _why_ a savage cherishes this or that scrap as a 'fetish'? i give a string of explanations in custom and myth (pp. - ). sometimes the so-called fetish had an accidental, which was taken to be a causal, connection with a stroke of good luck. sometimes the thing--an odd-shaped stone, say--had a superficial resemblance to a desirable object, and so was thought likely to aid in the acquisition of such objects by 'sympathetic magic.' { b} other 'fetishes' are revealed in dreams, or by ghosts, or by spirits appearing in semblance of animals. { a} 'telekinetic' origin of fetishism as i write comes in melusine, viii. , with an essay by m. lefebure on les origines du fetichisme. he derives some fetishistic practices from what the melanesians call mana, which, says mr. max muller, 'may often be rendered by supernatural or magic power, present in an individual, a stone, or in formulas or charms' (i. ). how, asks mr. lefebure, did men come to attribute this vis vivida to persons and things? because, in fact, he says, such an unexplored force does really exist and display itself. he then cites mr. crookes' observations on scientifically registered 'telekinetic' performances by daniel dunglas home, he cites despine on madame schmitz-baud, { b} with examples from dr. tylor, p. de la rissachere, dr. gibier, { c} and other authorities, good or bad. grouping, then, his facts under the dubious title of le magnetisme, m. lefebure finds in savage observation of such facts 'the chief cause of fetishism.' some of m. lefebure's 'facts' (of objects moving untouched) were certainly frauds, like the tricks of eusapia. but, even if all the facts recorded were frauds, such impostures, performed by savage conjurers, who certainly profess { d} to produce the phenomena, might originate, or help to originate, the respect paid to 'fetishes' and the belief in mana. but probably major ellis's researches into the religion of the tshi-speaking races throw most light on the real ideas of african fetishists. the subject is vast and complex. i am content to show that, whatever de brosses did, _we_ do not abandon a search for the motives of the savage fetishist. indeed, de brosses himself did seek and find at least one african motive, 'the conjurers (jongleurs) persuade them that little instruments in their possession are endowed with a living spirit.' so far, fetishism is spiritualism. civilised 'fetishism' de brosses did not look among civilised fetishists for the motives which he neglected among savages (i. ). tant pis pour monsieur le president. but we and our method no more stand or fall with de brosses and his, than mr. max muller's etymologies stand or fall with those in the cratylus of plato. if, in a civilised people, ancient or modern, we find a practice vaguely styled 'fetishistic,' we examine it in its details. while we have talismans, amulets, gamblers' fetiches, i do not think that, except among some children, we have anything nearly analogous to gold coast fetishism as a whole. some one seems to have called the palladium a fetish. i don't exactly know what the palladium (called a fetish by somebody) was. the hasta fetialis has been styled a fetish--an apparent abuse of language. as to the holy cross qua fetish, why discuss such free-thinking credulities? modern anthropologists--tylor, frazer, and the rest--are not under the censure appropriate to the illogical. more mischiefs of comparison the 'nemesis' (i. ) of de brosses' errors did not stay in her ravaging progress. fetishism was represented as 'the very beginning of religion,' first among the negroes, then among all races. as i, for one, persistently proclaim that the beginning of religion is an inscrutable mystery, the nemesis has somehow left me scatheless, propitiated by my piety. i said, long ago, 'the train of ideas which leads man to believe in and to treasure fetishes is _one among the earliest springs_ of religious belief.' { a} but from even this rather guarded statement i withdraw. 'no man can watch the idea of god in the making or in the beginning.' { b} still more nemesis the new nemesis is really that which i have just put far from me--namely, that 'modern savages represent everywhere the eocene stratum of religion.' they _probably_ represent an _early_ stage in religion, just as, teste. mr. max muller, they represent an early stage in language 'in savage languages we see what we can no longer expect to see even in the most ancient sanskrit or hebrew. we watch the childhood of language, with all its childish pranks.' { c} now, if the tongues spoken by modern savages represent the 'childhood' and 'childish pranks' of language, why should the beliefs of modern savages not represent the childhood and childish pranks of religion? i am not here averring that they do so, nor even that mr. max muller is right in _his_ remark on language. the australian blacks have been men as long as the prussian nobility. their language has had time to outgrow 'childish pranks,' but apparently it has not made use of its opportunities, according to our critic. does he know why? one need not reply to the charge that anthropologists, if they are meant, regard modern savages 'as just evolved from the earth, or the sky,' or from monkeys (i. ). 'savages have a far-stretching unknown history behind them.' 'the past of savages, i say, must have been a long past.' { } so, once more, the nemesis of de brosses fails to touch me--and, of course, to touch more learned anthropologists. there is yet another nemesis--the postulate that aryans and semites, or rather their ancestors, must have passed through the savage state. dr. tylor writes:--'so far as history is to be our criterion, progression is primary and degradation secondary. _culture must be gained before it can be lost_.' now a person who has not gained what dr. tylor calls 'culture' (_not_ in mr. arnold's sense) is a man without tools, instruments, or clothes. he is certainly, so far, like a savage; is very much lower in 'culture' than any race with which we are acquainted. as a matter of hypothesis, anyone may say that man was born 'with everything handsome about him.' he has then to account for the savage elements in greek myth and rite. for us or against us? we now hear that the worst and last penalty paid for de brosses' audacious comparison of savage with civilised superstitions is the postulate that aryan and semitic peoples have passed through a stage of savagery. 'however different the languages, customs and myths, the colour and the skulls of these modern savages might be from those of aryan and semitic people, the latter must once have passed through the same stage, must once have been what the negroes of the west coast of africa are to-day. this postulate has not been, and, according to its very nature, cannot be proved. but the mischief done by acting on such postulates is still going on, and in several cases it has come to this--that what in historical religions, such as our own, is known to be the most modern, the very last outcome, namely, the worship of relics or a belief in amulets, has been represented as the first necessary step in the evolution of all religions' (i. ). i really do not know who says that the prehistoric ancestors of aryans and semites were once in the same stage as the 'negroes of the west coast of africa are to-day.' these honest fellows are well acquainted with coined money, with the use of firearms, and other resources of civilisation, and have been in touch with missionaries, miss kingsley, traders, and tourists. the ancestors of the aryans and semites enjoyed no such advantages. mr. max muller does not tell us who says that they did. but that the ancestors of all mankind passed through a stage in which they had to develop for themselves tools, languages, clothes, and institutions, is assuredly the belief of anthropologists. a race without tools, language, clothes, pottery, and social institutions, or with these in the shape of undeveloped speech, stone knives, and 'possum or other skins, is what we call a race of savages. such we believe the ancestors of mankind to have been--at any rate after the fall. now when mr. max muller began to write his book, he accepted this postulate of anthropology (i. ). when he reached i. he abandoned and denounced this postulate. i quote his acceptance of the postulate (i. ):-- 'even mr. a. lang has to admit that we have not got much beyond fontenelle, when he wrote in the last century: '"why are the legends [myths] about men, beasts, and gods so wildly incredible and revolting? . . . the answer is that the earliest men were in a state of almost inconceivable ignorance and savagery, and that the greeks inherited their myths from people in the same savage stage (en un pareil etat de sauvagerie). look at the kaffirs and iroquois if you want to know what the earliest men were like, and remember that the very iroquois and kaffirs have a long past behind them"'--that is to say, are polite and cultivated compared to the earliest men of all. here is an uncompromising statement by fontenelle of the postulate that the greeks (an aryan people) must have passed through the same stage as modern savages--kaffirs and iroquois--now occupy. but (i. ) mr. max muller eagerly accepts the postulate:-- 'there is not a word of fontenelle's to which i should not gladly subscribe; there is no advice of his which i have not tried to follow in all my attempts to explain the myths of india and greece by an occasional reference to polynesian or african folklore.' well, if mr. max muller 'gladly subscribes,' in p. , to the postulate of an original universal stage of savagery, whence civilised races inherit their incredibly repulsive myths, why, in pp. , , does he denounce that very postulate as not proven, not capable of being proved, very mischievous, and one of the evils resulting from our method of comparing savage and civilised rites and beliefs? i must be permitted to complain that i do not know which is mr. max muller's real opinion--that given with such hearty conviction in p. , or that stated with no less earnestness in pp. , . i trust that i shall not be thought to magnify a mere slip of the pen. both passages--though, as far as i can see, self-contradictory--appear to be written with the same absence of levity. fontenelle, i own, speaks of greeks, not semites, as being originally savages. but i pointed out { } that he considered it safer to 'hedge' by making an exception of the israelites. there is really nothing in genesis against the contention that the naked, tool-less, mean, and frivolous adam was a savage. the fallacy of 'admits' as the purpose of this essay is mainly logical, i may point out the existence of a fallacy not marked, i think, in handbooks of logic. this is the fallacy of saying that an opponent 'admits' what, on the contrary, he has been the first to point out and proclaim. he is thus suggested into an attitude which is the reverse of his own. some one--i am sorry to say that i forget who he was--showed me that fontenelle, in de l'origine des fables, { a} briefly stated the anthropological theory of the origin of myths, or at least of that repulsive element in them which 'makes mythology mythological,' as mr. max muller says. i was glad to have a predecessor in a past less remote than that of eusebius of caesarea. 'a briefer and better system of mythology,' i wrote, 'could not be devised; but the mr. casaubons of this world have neglected it, and even now it is beyond their comprehension.' { b} to say this in this manner is not to '_admit_ that we have not got much beyond fontenelle.' i do not want to get beyond fontenelle. i want to go back to his 'forgotten common-sense,' and to apply his ideas with method and criticism to a range of materials which he did not possess or did not investigate. now, on p. , mr. max muller had got as far as accepting fontenelle; on pp. , he burns, as it were, that to which he had 'gladly subscribed.' conclusion as to our method all this discussion of fetishes arose out of our author's selection of the subject as an example of the viciousness of our method. he would not permit us 'simply to place side by side' savage and greek myths and customs, because it did harm (i. ); and the harm done was proved by the nemesis of de brosses. now, first, a method may be a good method, yet may be badly applied. secondly, i have shown that the nemesis does not attach to all of us modern anthropologists. thirdly, i have proved (unless i am under some misapprehension, which i vainly attempt to detect, and for which, if it exists, i apologise humbly) that mr. max muller, on p. , accepts the doctrine which he denounces on p. . { } again, i am entirely at one with mr. max muller when he says (p. ) 'we have as yet really no scientific treatment of shamanism.' this is a pressing need, but probably a physician alone could do the work--a physician double with a psychologist. see, however, the excellent pages in dr. tylor's primitive culture, and in mr. william james's principles of psychology, on 'mediumship.' the riddle theory what the philological theory needs the great desideratum of the philological method is a proof that the 'disease of language,' ex hypothesi the most fertile source of myths, is a vera causa. do simple poetical phrases, descriptive of heavenly phenomena, remain current in the popular mouth after the meanings of appellatives (bright one, dark one, &c.) have been forgotten, so that these appellatives become proper names--apollo, daphne, &c.? mr. max muller seems to think some proof of this process as a vera causa may be derived from 'folk riddles.' the riddle theory we now come, therefore, to the author's treatment of popular riddles (devinettes), so common among savages and peasants. their construction is simple: anything in nature you please is described by a poetical periphrasis, and you are asked what it is. thus geistiblindr asks, what is the dark one that goes over the earth, swallows water and wood, but is afraid of the wind? &c. or we find, what is the gold spun from one window to another? the answers, the obvious answers, are ( ) 'mist' and ( ) 'sunshine.' in mr. max muller's opinion these riddles 'could not but lead to what we call popular myths or legends.' very probably; but this does not aid us to accept the philological method. the very essence of that method is the presumed absolute loss of the meaning of, e.g. 'the dark one.' before there can be a myth, ex hypothesi the words dark one must have become hopelessly unintelligible, must have become a proper name. thus suppose, for argument's sake only, that cronos once meant dark one, and was understood in that sense. people (as in the norse riddle just cited) said, 'cronos [i.e. the dark one--meaning mist] swallows water and wood.' then they forgot that cronos was their old word for the dark one, and was mist; but they kept up, and understood, all the rest of the phrase about what mist does. the expression now ran, 'cronos [whatever that may be] swallows water and wood.' but water comes from mist, and water nourishes wood, therefore 'cronos swallows his children.' such would be the development of a myth on mr. max muller's system. he would interpret 'cronos swallows his children,' by finding, if he could, the original meaning of cronos. let us say that he did discover it to mean 'the dark one.' then he might think cronos meant 'night;' 'mist' he would hardly guess. that is all very clear, but the point is this--in devinettes, or riddles, the meaning of 'the dark one' is _not_ lost:-- 'thy riddle is _easy_ blind gest, to read'-- heidrick answers. what the philological method of mythology needs is to prove that such poetical statements about natural phenomena as the devinettes contain survived in the popular mouth, and were perfectly intelligible except just the one mot d'enigme--say, 'the dark one.' that (call it cronos='dark one'), and that alone, became unintelligible in the changes of language, and so had to be accepted as a proper name, cronos--a god who swallows things at large. where is the proof of such endurance of intelligible phrases with just the one central necessary word obsolete and changed into a mysterious proper name? the world is full of proper names which have lost their meaning--athene, achilles, artemis, and so on but we need proof that poetical sayings, or riddles, survive and are intelligible except one word, which, being unintelligible, becomes a proper name. riddles, of course, prove nothing of this kind:-- thy riddle is easy blind gest to read! yet mr. max muller offers the suggestion that the obscurity of many of these names of mythical gods and heroes 'may be due . . . to the riddles to which they had given rise, and which would have ceased to be riddles if the names had been clear and intelligible, like those of helios and selene' (i. ). people, he thinks, in making riddles 'would avoid the ordinary appellatives, and the use of little-known names in most mythologies would thus find an intelligible explanation.' again, 'we can see how essential it was that in such mythological riddles the principal agents should not be called by their regular names.' this last remark, indeed, is obvious. to return to the norse riddle of the dark one that swallows wood and water. it would never do in a riddle to call the dark one by his ordinary name, 'mist.' you would not amuse a rural audience by asking 'what is the mist that swallows wood and water?' that would be even easier than mr. burnand's riddle for very hot weather:-- my first is a boot, my second is a jack. conceivably mr. max muller may mean that in riddles an almost obsolete word was used to designate the object. perhaps, instead of 'the dark one,' a peasant would say, 'what is the rooky one?' but as soon as nobody knew what 'the rooky one' meant, the riddle would cease to exist--rooky one and all. you cannot imagine several generations asking each other-- what is the rooky one that swallows? if nobody knew the answer. a man who kept boring people with a mere 'sell' would be scouted; and with the death of the answerless riddle the difficult word 'rooky' would die. but mr. max muller says, 'riddles would cease to be riddles if the names had been clear and intelligible.' the reverse is the fact. in the riddles he gives there are seldom any 'names;' but the epithets and descriptions are as clear as words can be:-- who are the mother and children in a house, all having bald heads?--the moon and stars. language cannot be clearer. yet the riddle has not 'ceased to be a riddle,' as mr. max muller thinks it must do, though the words are 'clear and intelligible.' on the other hand, if the language is _not_ clear and intelligible, the riddle would cease to exist. it would not amuse if nobody understood it. you might as well try to make yourself socially acceptable by putting conundrums in etruscan as by asking riddles in words not clear and intelligible in themselves, though obscure in their reference. the difficulty of a riddle consists, not in the obscurity of words or names, but in the description of familiar things by terms, clear as terms, denoting their appearance and action. the mist is described as 'dark,' 'swallowing,' 'one that fears the wind,' and so forth. the _words_ are pellucid. thus 'ordinary appellatives' (i. ) are _not_ 'avoided' in riddles, though _names_ (sun, mist) cannot be used in the question because they give the answer to the riddle. for all these reasons ancient riddles cannot explain the obscurity of mythological names. as soon as the name was too obscure, the riddle and the name would be forgotten, would die together. so we know as little as ever of the purely hypothetical process by which a riddle, or popular poetical saying, remains intelligible in a language, while the mot d'enigme, becoming unintelligible, turns into a proper name--say, cronos. yet the belief in this process as a vera causa is essential to our author's method. here mr. max muller warns us that his riddle theory is not meant to explain 'the obscurities of _all_ mythological names. this is a stratagem that should be stopped from the very first.' it were more graceful to have said 'a misapprehension.' another 'stratagem' i myself must guard against. i do not say that _no_ unintelligible strings of obsolete words may continue to live in the popular mouth. old hymns, ritual speeches, and charms may and do survive, though unintelligible. they are reckoned all the more potent, because all the more mysterious. but an unintelligible riddle or poetical saying does not survive, so we cannot thus account for mythology as a disease of language. mordvinian mythology still in the very natural and laudable pursuit of facts which will support the hypothesis of a disease of language, mr. max muller turns to mordvinian mythology. 'we have the accounts of real scholars' about mordvinian prayers, charms, and proverbs (i. ). the mordvinians, ugrian tribes, have the usual departmental nature-gods--as chkai, god of the sun (chi=sun). he 'lives in the sun, or is the sun' (i. ). his wife is the earth or earth goddess, vediava. they have a large family, given to incest. the morals of the mordvinian gods are as lax as those of mordvinian mortals. (compare the myths and morals of samos, and the samian hera.) athwart the decent god chkai comes the evil god chaitan--obviously shaitan, a mahommedan contamination. there are plenty of minor gods, and spirits good and bad. dawn was a mordvinian girl; in australia she was a lubra addicted to lubricity. _how does this help philological mythology_? mr. max muller is pleased to find solar and other elemental gods among the mordvinians. but the discovery in no way aids his special theory. nobody has ever denied that gods who are the sun or live in the sun are familiar, and are the centres of myths among most races. i give examples in c. and m. (pp. , , new zealand and north america) and in m. r. r. (i. - , america, africa, australia, aztec, hervey islands, samoa, and so on). such nature-myths--of sun, sky, earth--are perhaps universal; but they do not arise from disease of language. these myths deal with natural phenomena plainly and explicitly. the same is the case among the mordvinians. 'the few names preserved to us are clearly the names of the agents behind the salient phenomena of nature, in some cases quite intelligible, in others easily restored to their original meaning.' the meanings of the names not being forgotten, but obvious, there is no disease of language. all this does not illustrate the case of greek divine names by resemblance, but by difference. real scholars know what mordvinian divine names mean. they do not know what many greek divine names mean--as hera, artemis, apollo, athene; there is even much dispute about demeter. no anthropologist, i hope, is denying that nature-myths and nature-gods exist. we are only fighting against the philological effort to get at the elemental phenomena which may be behind hera, artemis, athene, apollo, by means of contending etymological conjectures. we only oppose the philological attempt to account for all the features in a god's myth as manifestations of the elemental qualities denoted by a name which may mean at pleasure dawn, storm, clear air, thunder, wind, twilight, water, or what you will. granting chkai to be the sun, does that explain why he punishes people who bake bread on friday? ( .) our opponent does not seem to understand the portee of our objections. the same remarks apply to the statement of finnish mythology here given, and familiar in the kalewala. departmental divine beings of natural phenomena we find everywhere, or nearly everywhere, in company, of course, with other elements of belief--totemism, worship of spirits, perhaps with monotheism in the background. that is as much our opinion as mr. max muller's. what we are opposing is the theory of disease of language, and the attempt to explain, by philological conjectures, gods and heroes whose obscure _names_ are the only sources of information. helios is the sun-god; he is, or lives in, the sun. apollo may have been the sun-god too, but we still distrust the attempts to prove this by contending guesses at the origin of his name. moreover, if all greek gods could be certainly explained, by undisputed etymologies, as originally elemental, we still object to such logic as that which turns saranyu into 'grey dawn.' we still object to the competing interpretations by which almost every detail of very composite myths is explained as a poetical description of some elemental process or phenomenon. apollo _may_ once have been the sun, but why did he make love as a dog? lettish mythology these remarks apply equally well to our author's dissertation on lettish mythology (ii. et seq.). the meaning of statements about the sun and sky 'is not to be mistaken in the mythology of the letts.' so here is no disease of language. the meaning is not to be mistaken. sun and moon and so on are spoken of by their natural unmistakable names, or in equally unmistakable poetical periphrases, as in riddles. the daughter of the sun hung a red cloak on a great oak-tree. this 'can hardly have been meant for anything but the red of the evening or the setting sun, sometimes called her red cloak' (ii. ). exactly so, and the australians of encounter bay also think that the sun is a woman. 'she has a lover among the dead, who has given her a red kangaroo skin, and in this she appears at her rising.' { } this tale was told to mr. meyer in , before mr. max muller's dawn had become 'inevitable,' as he says. the lettish and australian myths are folk-poetry; they have nothing to do with a disease of language or forgotten meanings of words which become proper names. all this is surely distinct. we proclaim the abundance of poetical nature-myths; we 'disable' the hypothesis that they arise from a disease of language. the chances of fancy one remark has to be added. mannhardt regarded many or most of the philological solutions of gods into dawn or sun, or thunder or cloud, as empty jeux d'esprit. and justly, for there is no name named among men which a philologist cannot easily prove to be a synonym or metaphorical term for wind or weather, dawn or sun. whatever attribute any word connotes, it can be shown to connote some attribute of dawn or sun. here parody comes in, and gives a not overstrained copy of the method, applying it to mr. gladstone, dr. nansen, or whom you please. and though a jest is not a refutation, a parody may plainly show the absolutely capricious character of the philological method. artemis i do not here examine our author's constructive work. i have often criticised its logical method before, and need not repeat myself. the etymologies, of course, i leave to be discussed by scholars. as we have seen, they are at odds on the subject of phonetic laws and their application to mythological names. on the mosses and bogs of this debatable land some of them propose to erect the science of comparative mythology. meanwhile we look on, waiting till the mosses shall support a ponderous edifice. our author's treatment of artemis, however, has for me a peculiar interest (ii. - ). i really think that it is not mere vanity which makes me suppose that in this instance i am at least one of the authors whom mr. max muller is writing _about_ without name or reference. if so, he here sharply distinguishes between me on the one hand and 'classical scholars' on the other, a point to which we shall return. he says--i cite textually (ii. ):-- artemis 'the last of the great greek goddesses whom we have to consider is artemis. her name, we shall see, has received many interpretations, but none that can be considered as well established--none that, even if it were so, would help us much in disentangling the many myths told about her. easy to understand as her character seems when we confine our attention to homer, it becomes extremely complicated when we take into account the numerous local forms of worship of which she was the object. 'we have here a good opportunity of comparing the interpretations put forward by _those who think that a study of the myths and customs of uncivilised tribes can help us towards an understanding of greek deities, and the views advocated by classical scholars_ { } who draw their information, first of all, from greek sources, and afterwards only from a comparison of the myths and customs of cognate races, more particularly from what is preserved to us in ancient vedic literature, before they plunge into the whirlpool of ill-defined and unintelligible kafir folklore. the former undertake to explain artemis by showing us the progress of human intelligence from the coarsest spontaneous and primitive ideas to the most beautiful and brilliant conception of poets and sculptors. they point out traces of hideous cruelties amounting almost to cannibalism, and of a savage cult of beasts in the earlier history of the goddess, who was celebrated by dances of young girls disguised as bears or imitating the movements of bears, &c. she was represented as [greek], and this idea, we are told, was borrowed from the east, which is a large term. we are told that her most ancient history is to be studied in arkadia, where we can see the goddess still closely connected with the worship of animals, a characteristic feature of the lowest stage of religious worship among the lowest races of mankind. we are then told the old story of lykaon, the king of arkadia, who had a beautiful daughter called kallisto. as zeus fell in love with her, hera from jealousy changed her into a bear, and artemis killed her with one of her arrows. her child, however, was saved by hermes, at the command of zeus; and while kallisto was changed to the constellation of the ursa, her son arkas became the ancestor of the arkadians. here, we are told, we have a clear instance of men being the descendants of animals, and of women being changed into wild beasts and stars--beliefs well known among the cahrocs and the kamilarois.' * * * * * here i recognise mr. max muller's version of my remarks on artemis. { a} our author has just remarked in a footnote that schwartz 'does not mention the title of the book where his evidence has been given.' it _is_ an inconvenient practice, but with mr. max muller this reticence is by no means unusual. _he_ 'does not mention the book where 'my 'evidence is given.' anthropologists are here (unless i am mistaken) contrasted with 'classical scholars who draw their information, first of all, from greek sources.' i need not assure anyone who has looked into my imperfect works that i also drew my information about artemis 'first of all from greek sources,' in the original. many of these sources, to the best of my knowledge, are not translated: one, homer, i have translated myself, with professor butcher and messrs. leaf and myers, my old friends. the idea and representation of artemis as [greek] (many-breasted), 'we are told, was borrowed from the east, a large term.' i say 'she is even blended in ritual with a monstrous many-breasted divinity of oriental religion.' { b} is this 'large term' too vague? then consider the artemis of ephesus and 'the alabaster statuette of the goddess' in roscher's lexikon, p. . compare, for an occidental parallel, the many- breasted goddess of the maguey plant, in mexico. { } our author writes, 'we are told that artemis's most ancient history is to be studied in arkadia.' my words are, 'the attic and arcadian legends of artemis are confessedly _among the oldest_.' why should 'attic' and the qualifying phrase be omitted? otfried muller mr. max muller goes on--citing, as i also do, otfried muller:--'otfried muller in treated the same myth without availing himself of the light now to be derived from the cahrocs and the kamilarois. he quoted pausanias as stating that the tumulus of kallisto was near the sanctuary of artemis kalliste, and he simply took kallisto for an epithet of artemis, which, as in many other cases, had been taken for a separate personality.' otfried also pointed out, as we both say, that at brauron, in attica, artemis was served by young maidens called [greek] (bears); and he concluded, 'this cannot possibly be a freak of chance, but the metamorphosis [of kallisto] has its foundation in the fact that the animal [the bear] was sacred to the goddess.' thus it is acknowledged that artemis, under her name of callisto, was changed into a she-bear, and had issue, arkas--whence the arcadians. mr. max muller proceeds (ii. )--'he [otfried] did not go so far as some modern mythologists who want us to believe that originally the animal, the she-bear, was the goddess, and that a later worship had replaced the ancient worship of the animal pur et simple.' did i, then, tell anybody that 'originally the she-bear was the goddess'? no, i gave my reader, not a dogma, but the choice between two alternative hypotheses. i said, 'it will become probable that the she-bear actually _was_ the goddess at an extremely remote period, or at all events that the goddess succeeded to, and threw her protection over, an ancient worship of the animal' (ii. , ). mr. max muller's error, it will be observed, consists in writing 'and' where i wrote 'or.' to make such rather essential mistakes is human; to give references is convenient, and not unscholarly. in fact, this is mr. max muller's own opinion, for he next reports his anonymous author (myself) as saying ('we are now told'), 'though without any reference to pausanias or any other greek writers, that the young maidens, the [greek], when dancing around artemis, were clad in bearskins, and that this is a pretty frequent custom in the dances of totemic races. in support of this, however, we are not referred to really totemic races . . . but to the hirpi of italy, and to the [greek] in egypt.' of course i never said that the [greek] danced around artemis! i did say, after observing that they were described as 'playing the bear,' 'they even in archaic ages wore bear-skins,' for which i cited claus { a} and referred to suchier, { b} including the reference in brackets [ ] to indicate that i borrowed it from a book which i was unable to procure. { a} i then gave references for the classical use of a saffron vest by the [greek]. beast dances for the use of beast-skins in such dances among totemists i cite bancroft (iii. ) and (m. r. r. ii. ) robinson { b} (same authority). i may now also refer to robertson smith: { c} 'the meaning of such a disguise [a fish-skin, among the assyrians] _is well known from many savage rituals_; it means that the worshipper presents himself as a fish,' as a bear, or what not. { d} doubtless i might have referred more copiously to savage rituals, but really i thought that savage dances in beast-skins were familiar from catlin's engravings of mandan and nootka wolf or buffalo dances. i add that the brauronian rites 'point to a time when the goddess was herself a bear,' having suggested an alternative theory, and added confirmation. { e} but i here confess that while beast-dances and wearing of skins of sacred beasts are common, to prove these sacred beasts to be totems is another matter. it is so far inferred rather than demonstrated. next i said that the evolution of the bear into the classical artemis 'almost escapes our inquiry. we find nothing more akin to it than the relation borne by the samoan gods to the various totems in which they are supposed to be manifest.' this mr. max muller quotes (of course, without reference or marks of quotation) and adds, 'pace dr. codrington.' have i incurred dr. codrington's feud? he doubts or denies totems in melanesia. is samoa in melanesia, par exemple? { a} our author (i. ) says that 'dr. codrington will have no totems in his islands.' but samoa is not one of the doctor's fortunate isles. for samoa i refer, not to dr. codrington, but to mr. turner. { b} in samoa the 'clans' revere each its own sacred animals, 'but combine with it the belief that the spiritual deity reveals itself in each separate animal.' { c} i expressly contrast the samoan creed with 'pure totemism.' { d} so much for our author's success in stating and criticising my ideas. if he pleases, i will not speak of samoan totems, but of samoan sacred animals. it is better and more exact. the view of classical scholars they (ii. ) begin by pointing out artemis's connection with apollo and the moon. so do i! 'if apollo soon disengages himself from the sun . . . artemis retains as few traces of any connection with the moon.' { e} 'if apollo was of solar origin,' asks the author (ii. ), 'what could his sister artemis have been, from the very beginning, if not some goddess connected with the moon?' very likely; quis negavit? then our author, like myself (loc. cit.), dilates on artemis as 'sister of apollo.' 'her chapels,' i say, 'are in the wild wood; she is the abbess of the forest nymphs,' 'chaste and fair, the maiden of the precise life.' how odd! the classical scholar and i both say the same things; and i add a sonnet to artemis in this aspect, rendered by me from the hippolytus of euripides. could a classical scholar do more? our author then says that the greek sportsman 'surprised the beasts in their lairs' by night. not very sportsmanlike! i don't find it in homer or in xenophon. oh for exact references! the moon, the nocturnal sportswoman, is artemis: here we have also the authority of theodore de banville (diane court dans la noire foret). and the nocturnal hunt is dian's; so she is protectress of the chase. exactly what i said! { a} all this being granted by me beforehand (though possibly that might not be guessed from my critic), our author will explain artemis's human sacrifice of a girl in a fawn-skin--bloodshed, bear and all--with no aid from kamilarois, cahrocs, and samoans. mr. max muller's explanation greek races traced to zeus--usually disguised, for amorous purposes, as a brute. the arcadians had an eponymous heroic ancestor, 'areas;' they also worshipped artemis. artemis, as a virgin, could not become a mother of areas by zeus, or by anybody. callisto was also artemis. callisto was the mother of areas. but, to save the character of artemis, callisto was now represented as one of her nymphs. then, areas reminding the arcadians of [greek] (a bear), while they knew the bear constellation, 'what was more natural than that callisto should be changed into an arktos, a she-bear . . . placed by zeus, her lover, in the sky' as the bear? nothing could be more natural to a savage; they all do it. { b} but that an aryan, a greek, should talk such nonsense as to say that he was the descendant of a bear who was changed into a star, and all merely because 'areas reminded the arcadians of arktos,' seems to me an extreme test of belief, and a very unlikely thing to occur. wider application of the theory let us apply the explanation more widely. say that a hundred animal names are represented in the known totem-kindreds of the world. then had each such kin originally an eponymous hero whose name, like that of areas in arcady, accidentally 'reminded' his successors of a beast, so that a hundred beasts came to be claimed as ancestors? perhaps this was what occurred; the explanation, at all events, fits the wolf of the delawares and the other ninety-nine as well as it fits the arcades. by a curious coincidence all the names of eponymous heroes chanced to remind people of beasts. but _whence come the names of eponymous heroes_? from their tribes, of course--ion from ionians, dorus from dorians, and so on. therefore (in the hundred cases) the names of the _tribes_ derive from names of animals. indeed, the names of totem-kins _are_ the names of animals--wolves, bears, cranes. mr. max muller remarks that the name 'arcades' _may_ come from [greek], a bear (i. ); so the arcadians (proselenoi, the oldest of races, 'men before the moon') may be--bears. so, of course (in this case), they would necessarily be bears _before_ they invented areas, an eponymous hero whose name is derived from the pre- existing tribal name. his name, then, could not, before they invented it, remind them of a bear. it was from their name [greek] (bears) that they developed _his_ name areas, as in all such cases of eponymous heroes. i slightly incline to hold that this is exactly what occurred. a bear-kin claimed descent from a bear, and later, developing an eponymous hero, areas, regarded him as son of a bear. philologically 'it is possible;' i say no more. the bear dance 'the dances of the maidens called [greek], would receive an easy interpretation. they were arkades, and why not [greek] (bears)?' and if [greek], why not clad in bear-skins, and all the rest? (ii. ). this is our author's explanation; it is also my own conjecture. the arcadians were bears, knew it, and possibly danced a bear dance, as mandans or nootkas dance a buffalo dance or a wolf dance. but all such dances are not totemistic. they have often other aims. one only names such dances totemistic when performed by people who call themselves by the name of the animal represented, and claim descent from him. our author says genially, 'if anybody prefers to say that the arctos was something like a totem of the arcadians . . . why not?' but, if the arctos was a totem, that fact explains the callisto story and attic bear dance, while the philological theory--mr. max muller's theory--does not explain it. what is oddest of all, mr. max muller, as we have seen, says that the bear- dancing girls were 'arkades.' now we hear of no bear dances in arcadia. the dancers were athenian girls. this, indeed, is the point. we have a bear callisto (artemis) in arcady, where a folk etymology might explain it by stretching a point. but no etymology will explain bear dances to artemis in attica. so we find bears doubly connected with artemis. the athenians were not arcadians. as to the meaning and derivation of artemis, or artamis, our author knows nothing (ii. ). i say, 'even [greek] ([greek], bear) has occurred to inventive men.' possibly i invented it myself, though not addicted to etymological conjecture. the fire-walk the method of psychical research as a rule, mythology asks for no aid from psychical research. but there are problems in religious rite and custom where the services of the cendrillon of the sciences, the despised youngest sister, may be of use. as an example i take the famous mysterious old fire-rite of the hirpi, or wolf-kin, of mount soracte. i shall first, following mannhardt, and making use of my own trifling researches in ancient literature, describe the rite itself. mount soracte everyone has heard of mount soracte, white with shining snow, the peak whose distant cold gave zest to the blazing logs on the hearth of horace. within sight of his windows was practised, by men calling themselves 'wolves' (hirpi), a rite of extreme antiquity and enigmatic character. on a peak of soracte, now monte di silvestre, stood the ancient temple of soranus, a sabine sun-god. { a} virgil { b} identifies soranus with apollo. at the foot of the cliff was the precinct of feronia, a sabine goddess. mr. max muller says that feronia corresponds to the vedic bhuranyu, a name of agni, the vedic fire-god (ii. ). mannhardt prefers, of course, a derivation from _far_ (grain), as in confarreatio, the ancient roman bride-cake form of marriage. feronia mater=sanskrit bharsani mata, getreide mutter. { a} it is a pity that philologists so rarely agree in their etymologies. in greek the goddess is called anthephorus, philostephanus, and even persephone--probably the persephone of flowers and garlands. { b} hirpi sorani once a year a fete of soranus and feronia was held, in the precinct of the goddess at soracte. the ministrants were members of certain local families called hirpi (wolves). pliny says, { c} 'a few families, styled hirpi, at a yearly sacrifice, walk over a burnt pile of wood, yet are not scorched. on this account they have a perpetual exemption, by decree of the senate, from military and all other services.' virgil makes aruns say, { d} 'highest of gods, apollo, guardian of soracte, thou of whom we are the foremost worshippers, thou for whom the burning pile of pinewood is fed, while we, strong in faith, walk through the midst of the fire, and press our footsteps in the glowing mass. . . .' strabo gives the same facts. servius, the old commentator on virgil, confuses the hirpi, not unnaturally, with the sabine 'clan,' the hirpini. he says, { e} 'varro, always an enemy of religious belief, writes that the hirpini, when about to walk the fire, smear the soles of their feet with a drug' (medicamentum). silius italicus (v. ) speaks of the ancient rite, when 'the holy bearer of the bow (apollo) rejoices in the kindled pyres, and the ministrant thrice gladly bears entrails to the god through the harmless flames.' servius gives an aetiological myth to account for the practice. 'wolves came and carried off the entrails from the fire; shepherds, following them, were killed by mortal vapours from a cave; thence ensued a pestilence, because they had followed the wolves. an oracle bade them "play the wolf," i.e. live on plunder, whence they were called hirpi, wolves,' an attempt to account for a wolf clan-name. there is also a story that, when the grave of feronia seemed all on fire, and the people were about carrying off the statue, it suddenly grew green again. { a} mannhardt decides that the so-called wolves leaped through the sun-god's fire, in the interest of the health of the community. he elucidates this by a singular french popular custom, held on st. john's eve, at jumieges. the brethren of the green wolf select a leader called green wolf, there is an ecclesiastical procession, cure and all, a souper maigre, the lighting of the usual st. john's fire, a dance round the fire, the capture of next year's green wolf, a mimicry of throwing him into the fire, a revel, and next day a loaf of pain benit, above a pile of green leaves, is carried about. { b} the wolf, thinks mannhardt, is the vegetation-spirit in animal form. many examples of the 'corn-wolf' in popular custom are given by mr. frazer in the golden bough (ii. - ). the hirpi of soracte, then, are so called because they play the part of corn-wolves, or korndamonen in wolf shape. but mannhardt adds, 'this _seems_, at least, to be the explanation.' he then combats kuhn's theory of feronia as lightning goddess. { a} he next compares the strange arcadian cannibal rites on mount lycaeus. { b} mannhardt's deficiency in all this ingenious reasoning, mannhardt misses a point. what the hirpi did was _not_ merely to leap through light embers, as in the roman palilia, and the parallel doings in scotland, england, france, and elsewhere, at midsummer (st. john's eve). the hirpi would not be freed from military service and all other state imposts for merely doing what any set of peasants do yearly for nothing. nor would varro have found it necessary to explain so easy and common a feat by the use of a drug with which the feet were smeared. mannhardt, as mr. max muller says, ventured himself little 'among red skins and black skins.' he read dr. tylor, and appreciated the method of illustrating ancient rites and beliefs from the living ways of living savages. { c} but, in practice, he mainly confined himself to illustrating ancient rites and beliefs by survival in modern rural folk-lore. i therefore supplement mannhardt's evidence from european folk-lore by evidence from savage life, and by a folk-lore case which mannhardt did not know. the fire-walk a modern student is struck by the cool way in which the ancient poets, geographers, and commentators mention a startling circumstance, the fire- walk. the only hint of explanation is the statement that the drug or juice of herbs preserved the hirpi from harm. that theory may be kept in mind, and applied if it is found useful. virgil's theory that the ministrants walk, pietate freti, corresponds to mrs. wesley's belief, when, after praying, she 'waded the flames' to rescue her children from the burning parsonage at epworth. the hypothesis of iamblichus, when he writes about the ecstatic or 'possessed' persons who cannot be injured by fire, is like that of modern spiritualists--the 'spirit' or 'daemon' preserves them unharmed. i intentionally omit cases which are vaguely analogous to that of the hirpi. in icelandic sagas, in the relations of the old jesuit missionaries, in the travels of pallas and gmelin, we hear of medicine- men and berserks who take liberties with red-hot metal, live coals, and burning wood. thus in the icelandic flatey book (vol. i. p. ) we read about the fighting evangelist of iceland, a story of thangbrandr and the foreign berserkir. 'the berserkir said: "i can walk through the burning fire with my bare feet." then a great fire was made, which thangbrandr hallowed, and the berserkir went into it without fear, and burned his feet'--the christian spell of thangbrandr being stronger than the heathen spell of the berserkir. what the saga says is not evidence, and some of the other tales are merely traditional. others may be explained, perhaps, by conjuring. the mediaeval ordeal by fire may also be left on one side. in lockhart published a translation of the church service for the ordeal by fire, a document given, he says, by busching in die vorzeit for . the accused communicates before carrying the red-hot iron bar, or walking on the red-hot ploughshare. the consecrated wafer is supposed to preserve him from injury, if he be guiltless. he carries the iron for nine yards, after which his hands are sealed up in a linen cloth and examined at the end of three days. 'if he be found clear of scorch or scar, glory to god.' lockhart calls the service 'one of the most extraordinary records of the craft, the audacity, and the weakness of mankind.' { } the fraud is more likely to have lain in the pretended failure to find scorch or scar than in any method of substituting cold for hot iron, or of preventing the metal from injuring the subject of the ordeal. the rite did not long satisfy the theologians and jurists of the middle ages. it has been discussed by lingard in his history of england, and by dr. e. b. tylor in primitive culture. for the purpose of the present inquiry i also omit all the rites of leaping sportfully, and of driving cattle through light fires. of these cases, from the roman palilia, or parilia, downwards, there is a useful collection in brand's popular antiquities under the heading 'midsummer eve.' one exception must be made for a passage from torreblanca's demonologia (p. ). people are said 'pyras circumire et transilire in futuri mali averruncatione'--to 'go round about and leap over lighted pyres for the purpose of averting future evils,' as in mannhardt's theory of the hirpi. this may be connected with the bulgarian rite, to be described later, but, as a rule, in all these instances, the fire is a light one of straw, and no sort of immunity is claimed by the people who do not walk through, but leap across it. these kinds of analogous examples, then, it suffices merely to mention. for the others, in all affairs of this sort, the wide diffusion of a tale of miracle is easily explained. the fancy craves for miracles, and the universal mode of inventing a miracle is to deny the working, on a given occasion, of a law of nature. gravitation was suspended, men floated in air, inanimate bodies became agile, or fire did not burn. no less natural than the invention of the myth is the attempt to feign it by conjuring or by the use of some natural secret. but in the following modern instances the miracle of passing through the fire uninjured is apparently feigned with considerable skill, or is performed by the aid of some secret of nature not known to modern chemistry. the evidence is decidedly good enough to prove that in europe, india, and polynesia the ancient rite of the hirpi of soracte is still a part of religious or customary ceremony. fijian fire-walk the case which originally drew my attention to this topic is that given by mr. basil thomson in his south sea yarns (p. ). mr. thomson informs me that he wrote his description on the day after he witnessed the ceremony, a precaution which left no room for illusions of memory. of course, in describing a conjuring trick, one who is not an expert records, not what actually occurred, but what he was able to see, and the chances are that he did not see, and therefore omits, an essential circumstance, while he misstates other circumstances. i am informed by mrs. steel, the author of the potter's thumb and other stories of indian life, that, in watching an indian conjurer, she generally, or frequently, detects his method. she says that the conjurer often begins by whirling rapidly before the eyes of the spectators a small polished skull of a monkey, and she is inclined to think that the spectators who look at this are, in some way, more easily deluded. these facts are mentioned that i may not seem unaware of what can be said to impugn the accuracy of the descriptions of the fire rite, as given by mr. thomson and other witnesses. mr. thomson says that the wesleyan missionaries have nearly made a clean sweep of all heathen ceremonial in fiji. 'but in one corner of fiji, the island of nbengga, a curious observance of mythological origin has escaped the general destruction, probably because the worthy iconoclasts had never heard of it.' the myth tells how the ancestor of the clan received the gift of fire-walking from a god, and the existence of the myth raises a presumption in favour of the antiquity of the observance. * * * * * 'once every year the masawe, a dracaena that grows in profusion on the grassy hillsides of the island, becomes fit to yield the sugar of which its fibrous root is full. to render it fit to eat, the roots must be baked among hot stones for four days. a great pit is dug, and filled with large stones and blazing logs, and when these have burned down, and the stones are at white heat, the oven is ready for the masawe. it is at this stage that the clan na ivilankata, favoured of the gods, is called on to "leap into the oven" (rikata na lovo), and walk unharmed upon the hot stones that would scorch and wither the feet of any but the descendants of the dauntless tui nkualita. twice only had europeans been fortunate enough to see the masawe cooked, and so marvellous had been the tales they told, and so cynical the scepticism with which they had been received, that nothing short of another performance before witnesses and the photographic camera would have satisfied the average "old hand." 'as we steamed up to the chiefs village of waisoma, a cloud of blue smoke rolling up among the palms told us that the fire was newly lighted. we found a shallow pit, nineteen feet wide, dug in the sandy soil, a stone's throw from high-water mark, in a small clearing among the cocoanuts between the beach and the dense forest. the pit was piled high with great blazing logs and round stones the size of a man's head. mingled with the crackling roar of the fire were loud reports as splinters flew off from the stones, warning us to guard our eyes. a number of men were dragging up more logs and rolling them into the blaze, while, above all, on the very brink of the fiery pit, stood jonathan dambea, directing the proceedings with an air of noble calm. as the stones would not be hot enough for four hours, there was ample time to hear the tradition that warrants the observance of the strange ceremony we were to see. 'when we were at last summoned, the fire had been burning for more than four hours. the pit was filled with a white-hot mass shooting out little tongues of white flame, and throwing out a heat beside which the scorching sun was a pleasant relief. a number of men were engaged, with long poles to which a loop of thick vine had been attached, in noosing the pieces of unburnt wood by twisting the pole, like a horse's twitch, until the loop was tight, and dragging the log out by main force. when the wood was all out there remained a conical pile of glowing stones in the middle of the pit. ten men now drove the butts of green saplings into the base of the pile, and held the upper end while a stout vine was passed behind the row of saplings. a dozen men grasped each end of the vine, and with loud shouts hauled with all their might. the saplings, like the teeth of an enormous rake, tore through the pile of stones, flattening them out towards the opposite edge of the pit. the saplings were then driven in on the other side and the stones raked in the opposite direction, then sideways, until the bottom of the pit was covered with an even layer of hot stones. this process had taken fully half an hour, but any doubt as to the heat of the stones at the end was set at rest by the tongues of flame that played continually among them. the cameras were hard at work, and a large crowd of people pressed inwards towards the pit as the moment drew near. they were all excited except jonathan, who preserved, even in the supreme moment, the air of holy calm that never leaves his face. all eyes are fixed expectant on the dense bush behind the clearing, whence the shadrachs, meshachs and abednegos of the pacific are to emerge. there is a cry of "vutu! vutu!" and forth from the bush, two and two, march fifteen men, dressed in garlands and fringes. they tramp straight to the brink of the pit. the leading pair show something like fear in their faces, but do not pause, perhaps because the rest would force them to move forward. they step down upon the stones and continue their march round the pit, planting their feet squarely and firmly on each stone. the cameras snap, the crowd surges forward, the bystanders fling in great bundles of green leaves. but the bundles strike the last man of the procession and cut him off from his fellows; so he stays where he is, trampling down the leaves as they are thrown to line the pit, in a dense cloud of steam from the boiling sap. the rest leap back to his assistance, shouting and trampling, and the pit turns into the mouth of an inferno, filled with dusky frenzied fiends, half seen through the dense volume that rolls up to heaven and darkens the sunlight. after the leaves, palm-leaf baskets of the dracaena root are flung to them, more leaves, and then bystanders and every one join in shovelling earth over all till the pit is gone, and a smoking mound of fresh earth takes its place. this will keep hot for four days, and then the masawe will be cooked. 'as the procession had filed up to the pit, by a preconcerted arrangement with the noble jonathan, a large stone had been hooked out of the pit to the feet of one of the party, who poised a pocket-handkerchief over it, and dropped it lightly upon the stone when the first man leapt into the oven, and snatched what remained of it up as the last left the stones. during the fifteen or twenty seconds it lay there every fold that touched the stone was charred, and the rest of it scorched yellow. so the stones were not cool. we caught four or five of the performers as they came out, and closely examined their feet. they were cool, and showed no trace of scorching, nor were their anklets of dried tree-fern leaf burnt. this, jonathan explained, is part of the miracle; for dried tree-fern is as combustible as tinder, and there were flames shooting out among the stones. sceptics had affirmed that the skin of a fijian's foot being a quarter of an inch thick, he would not feel a burn. whether this be true or not of the ball and heel, the instep is covered with skin no thicker than our own, and we saw the men plant their insteps fairly on the stone.' * * * * * mr. thomson's friend, jonathan, said that young men had been selected because they would look better in a photograph, and, being inexperienced, they were afraid. a stranger would share the gift if he went in with one of the tribe. some years ago a man fell and burned his shoulders. 'any trick?' 'here jonathan's ample face shrunk smaller, and a shadow passed over his candid eye.' mr. thomson concludes: 'perhaps the na ivilankata clan have no secret, and there is nothing wonderful in their performance; but, miracle or not, i am very glad i saw it.' the handkerchief dropped on the stone is 'alive to testify to it.' mr. thomson's photograph of the scene is ill-developed, and the fumes of steam somewhat interfere with the effect. a rough copy is published in folk-lore for september, , but the piece could only be reproduced by a delicate drawing with the brush. the parallel to the rite of the hirpi is complete, except that red-hot stones, not the pyre of pine-embers, is used in fiji. mr. thomson has heard of a similar ceremony in the cook group of islands. as in ancient italy, so in fiji, a certain _clan_ have the privilege of fire-walking. it is far enough from fiji to southern india, as it is far enough from mount soracte to fiji. but in southern india the klings practise the rite of the hirpi and the na ivilankata. i give my informant's letter exactly as it reached me, though it has been published before in longman's magazine: kling fire-walk 'dear sir,--observing from your note in longman's magazine that you have mislaid my notes re fire-walking, i herewith repeat them. i have more than once seen it done by the "klings," as the low-caste tamil-speaking hindus from malabar are called, in the straits settlements. on one occasion i was present at a "fire-walking" held in a large tapioca plantation in province wellesley, before many hundreds of spectators, all the hindu coolies from the surrounding estates being mustered. a trench had been dug about twenty yards long by six feet wide and two deep. this was piled with faggots and small wood four or five feet high. this was lighted at midday, and by four p.m. the trench was a bed of red-hot ashes, the heat from which was so intense that the men who raked and levelled it with long poles could not stand it for more than a minute at a time. a few yards from the end of the trench a large hole had been dug and filled with water. when all was ready, six men, ordinary coolies, dressed only in their "dholis," or loin-cloths, stepped out of the crowd, and, amidst tremendous excitement and a horrible noise of conches and drums, passed over the burning trench from end to end, in single file, at a quick walk, plunging one after the other into the water. not one of them showed the least sign of injury. they had undergone some course of preparation by their priest, not a brahman, but some kind of devil-doctor or medicine-man, and, as i understood it, they took on themselves and expiated the sins of the kling community for the past year (a big job, if thieving and lying count; probably not). they are not, however, always so lucky, for i heard that on the next occasion one of the men fell and was terribly burnt, thus destroying the whole effect of the ceremony. i do not think this to be any part of the brahmanical religion, though the ordeal by fire as a test of guilt is, or was, in use all over india. the fact is that the races of southern india, where the aryan element is very small, have kept all their savage customs and devil-worship under the form of brahmanism. 'another curious feat i saw performed at labuan deli, in sumatra, on the chinese new year. a chinaman of the coolie class was squatted stark naked on the roadside, holding on his knees a brass pan the size of a wash-hand basin, piled a foot high with red-hot charcoal. the heat reached one's face at two yards, but if it had been a tray of ices the man couldn't have been more unconcerned. there was a crowd of chinese round him, all eagerly asking questions, and a pile of coppers accumulating beside him. a chinese shopkeeper told me that the man "told fortunes," but from the circumstance of a gambling-house being close by, i concluded that his customers were getting tips on a system. 'hoping these notes may be of service to you, 'i remain, 'yours truly, 'stephen ponder.' * * * * * in this rite the fire-pit is thrice as long (at a rough estimate) as that of the fijians. the fire is of wooden embers, not heated stones. as in fiji, a man who falls is burned, clearly suggesting that the feet and legs, but not the whole body, are in some way prepared to resist the fire. as we shall find to be the practice in bulgaria, the celebrants place their feet afterwards in water. as in bulgaria, drums are beaten to stimulate the fire-walkers. neither here nor in fiji are the performers said to be entranced, like the bulgarian nistinares. { } on the whole, the kling rite (which the klings, i am informed, also practise in the islands whither they are carried as coolies) so closely resembles the fijian and the tongan that one would explain the likeness by transmission, were the ceremony not almost as like the rite of the hirpi. for the tongan fire-ritual, the source is the polynesian society's journal, vol. ii. no. . pp. - . my attention was drawn to this by mr. laing, writing from new zealand. the article is by miss tenira henry, of honolulu, a young lady of the island. the council of the society, not having seen the rite, 'do not guarantee the truth of the story, but willingly publish it for the sake of the incantation.' miss henry begins with a description of the ti-plant (dracaena terminalis), which 'requires to be well baked before being eaten.' she proceeds thus: 'the ti-ovens are frequently thirty feet in diameter, and the large stones, heaped upon small logs of wood, take about twenty-four hours to get properly heated. then they are flattened down, by means of long green poles, and the trunks of a few banana-trees are stripped up and strewn over them to cause steam. the ti-roots are then thrown in whole, accompanied by short pieces of ape-root (arum costatum), that are not quite so thick as the ti, but grow to the length of six feet and more. the oven is then covered over with large leaves and soil, and left so for about three days, when the ti and the ape are taken out well cooked, and of a rich, light-brown colour. the ape prevents the ti from getting too dry in the oven. 'there is a strange ceremony connected with the uum ti (or ti-oven), that used to be practised by the heathen priests at raiatea, but can now be performed by only two individuals (tupua and taero), both descendants of priests. this ceremony consisted in causing people to walk in procession through the hot oven when flattened down, before anything had been placed in it, and without any preparation whatever, bare-footed or shod, and on their emergence not even smelling of fire. the manner of doing this was told by tupua, who heads the procession in the picture, to monsieur morne, lieutenant de vaisseau, who also took the photograph { } of it, about two years ago, at uturoa, raiatea, which, being on bad paper, was copied off by mr. barnfield, of honolulu. all the white residents of the place, as well as the french officers, were present to see the ceremony, which is rarely performed nowadays. 'no one has yet been able to solve the mystery of this surprising feat, but it is to be hoped that scientists will endeavour to do so while those men who practise it still live. tupua's incantation used in walking over the uum-ti.--translation 'hold the leaves of the ti-plant before picking them, and say: "o hosts of gods! awake, arise! you and i are going to the ti-oven to-morrow." 'if they float in the air, they are gods, but if their feet touch the ground they are human beings. then break the ti-leaves off and look towards the direction of the oven, and say: "o hosts of gods! go to-night, and to-morrow you and i shall go." then wrap the ti-leaves up in han (hibiscus) leaves, and put them to sleep in the marae, where they must remain until morning, and say in leaving: '"arise! awake! o hosts of gods! let your feet take you to the ti-oven; fresh water and salt water come also. let the dark earth-worm and the light earth-worm go to the oven. let the redness and the shades of fire all go. you will go; you will go to-night, and to-morrow it will be you and i; we shall go to the uum-ti." (this is for the night.) 'when the ti-leaves are brought away, they must be tied up in a wand and carried straight to the oven, and opened when all are ready to pass through; then hold the wand forward and say: '"o men (spirits) who heated the oven! let it die out! o dark earth-worms! o light earthworms! fresh water and salt water, heat of the oven and redness of the oven, hold up the footsteps of the walkers, and fan the heat of the bed. o cold beings, let us lie in the midst of the oven! o great-woman-who-set-fire-to-the-skies! hold the fan, and let us go into the oven for a little while!" then, when all are ready to walk in, we say: "holder of the first footstep! holder of the second footstep! holder of the third footstep! holder of the fourth footstep! holder of the fifth footstep! holder of the sixth footstep! holder of the seventh footstep! holder of the eighth footstep! holder of the ninth footstep! holder of the tenth footstep! "o great-woman-who-set-fire-to-the-skies! all is covered!" 'then everybody walks through without hurt, into the middle and around the oven, following the leader, with the wand beating from side to side. 'the great-woman-who-set-fire-to-the-skies was a high-born woman in olden times, who made herself respected by the oppressive men when they placed women under so many restrictions. she is said to have had the lightning at her command, and struck men with it when they encroached on her rights. 'all the above is expressed in old tahitian, and when quickly spoken is not easily understood by the modern listener. many of the words, though found in the dictionary, are now obsolete, and the arrangement of others is changed. oe and tana are never used now in place of the plural outou and tatou; but in old folk-lore it is the classical style of addressing the gods in the collective sense. tahutahu means sorcery, and also to kindle a fire.' * * * * * so far miss henry, on this occasion, and the archaic nature of the hymn, with the reference to a mythical leader of the revolt of women, deserves the attention of anthropologists, apart from the singular character of the rite described. in the third number of the journal (vol. ii.) the following editorial note is published: 'miss tenira henry authorises us to say that her sister and her sister's little child were some of those who joined in the uum-ti ceremony referred to in vol. ii. p. , and in the preceding note, and actually walked over the red-hot stones. the illustration of the performance given in the last number of the journal, it appears, is actually from a photograph taken by lieutenant morne, the original of which miss henry has sent us for inspection.--editor.' corroborative evidence the following corroborative account is given in the journal, from a source vaguely described as 'a pamphlet published in san francisco, by mr. hastwell:' 'the natives of raiatea have some performances so entirely out of the ordinary course of events as to institute (sic) inquiry relative to a proper solution. 'on september , , i witnessed the wonderful, and to me inexplicable, performance of passing through the "fiery furnace." 'the furnace that i saw was an excavation of three or four feet in the ground, in a circular form (sloping upwards), and about thirty feet across. the excavation was filled with logs and wood, and then covered with large stones. a fire was built underneath, and kept burning for a day. when i witnessed it, on the second day, the flames were pouring up through the interstices of the rocks, which were heated to a red and white heat. when everything was in readiness, and the furnace still pouring out its intense heat, the natives marched up with bare feet to the edge of the furnace, where they halted for a moment, and after a few passes of the wand made of the branches of the ti-plant by the leader, who repeated a few words in the native language, they stepped down on the rocks and walked leisurely across to the other side, stepping from stone to stone. this was repeated five times, without any preparation whatever on their feet, and without injury or discomfort from the heated stones. there was not even the smell of fire on their garments.' * * * * * mr. n. j. tone, in the same periodical (ii. , ), says that he arrived just too late to see the same rite at bukit mestajam, in province wellesley, straits settlements; he did see the pit and the fire, and examined the naked feet, quite uninjured, of the performers. he publishes an extract to this effect from his diary. the performers, i believe, were klings. nothing is said to indicate any condition of trance, or other abnormal state, in the fire-walkers. the fire-walk in trinidad. mr. henry e. st. clair, writing on september . , says: 'in trinidad, british west indies, the rite is performed annually about this time of the year among the indian coolie immigrants resident in the small village of peru, a mile or so from port of spain. i have personally witnessed the passing, and the description given by mr. ponder tallies with what i saw, except that, so far as i can remember, the number of those who took part in the rite was greater than six. in addition, there is this circumstance, which was not mentioned by that gentleman: each of the "passers" carried one or two lemons, which they dropped into the fire as they went along. these lemons were afterwards eagerly scrambled for by the bystanders, who, so far as i can recollect, attributed a healing influence to them.' bulgarian fire-walk as to the bulgarian rite, dr. schischmanof writes to me: 'i am sure the observance will surprise you; i am even afraid that you will think it rather fantastic, but you may rely on my information. the danse de feu was described long ago in a bulgarian periodical by one of our best known writers. what you are about to read only confirms his account. what i send you is from the recueil de folk lore, de litterature et de science (vol. vi. p. ), edited, with my aid and that of my colleague, mastov, by the minister of public instruction. how will you explain these hauts faits de l'extase religieuse? i cannot imagine! for my part, i think of the self-mutilations and tortures of dervishes and fakirs, and wonder if we have not here something analogous.' the article in the bulgarian serial is called 'the nistinares.' the word is not bulgarian; possibly it is romaic. the scene is in certain villages in turkey, on the bulgarian frontier, and not far from the town of bourgas, on the euxine, in the department of lozen grad. the ministrants (nistinares) have the gift of fire-walking as a hereditary talent; they are specially _just_, and the gift is attributed as to a god in fiji, in bulgaria to st. constantine and st. helena. 'these _just ones_ feel a desire to dance in the flames during the month of may; they are filled at the same time with some unknown force, which enables them to predict the future. the best nistinare is he who can dance longest in the live flame, and utter the most truthful prophecies.' the nistinares may be of either sex. on may the nistinares hold a kind of religious festival at the house of one of their number. salutations are exchanged, and presents of food and raki are made to the chief nistinare. the holy icones of saints are wreathed with flowers, and perfumed with incense. arrangements are made for purifying the holy wells and springs. on may , the day of st. helena and st. constantine, the parish priest says mass in the grey of dawn. at sunrise all the village meets in festal array; the youngest nistinare brings from the church the icones of the two saints, and drums are carried behind them in procession. they reach the sacred well in the wood, which the priest blesses. this is parallel to the priestly benediction on 'fountain sunday' of the well beneath the fairy tree at domremy, where jeanne d'arc was accused of meeting the good ladies. { } everyone drinks of the water, and there is a sacrifice of rams, ewes, and oxen. a festival follows, as was the use of domremy in the days of the maid; then all return to the village. the holy drum, which hangs all the year before st. helena in the church, is played upon. a mock combat between the icones which have visited the various holy wells is held. meanwhile, in each village, pyres of dry wood, amounting to thirty, fifty, or even a hundred cartloads, have been piled up. the wood is set on fire before the procession goes forth to the hallowing of the fountains. on returning, the crowd dances a horo (round dance) about the glowing logs. heaps of embers (pineus acervus) are made, and water is thrown on the ground. the musicians play the tune called 'l'air nistinar.' a nistinare breaks through the dance, _turns blue_, trembles like a leaf, and glares wildly with his eyes. the dance ends, and everybody goes to the best point of view. then the wildest nistinare seizes the icon, turns it to the crowd, and with naked feet climbs the pyre of glowing embers. the music plays, and the nistinare dances to the tune in the fire. if he is so disposed he utters prophecies. he dances till his face resumes its ordinary expression; then he begins to feel the burning; he leaves the pyre, and places his feet in the mud made by the libations of water already described. the second nistinare then dances in the fire, and so on. the predictions apply to villages and persons; sometimes sinners are denounced, or repairs of the church are demanded in this queer parish council. all through the month of may the nistinares call out for fire when they hear the nistinare music playing. they are very temperate men and women. except in may they do not clamour for fire, and cannot dance in it. in this remarkable case the alleged gift is hereditary, is of saintly origin, and is only exercised when the nistinare is excited, and (apparently) entranced by music and the dance, as is the manner also of medicine-men among savages. the rite, with its sacrifices of sheep and oxen, is manifestly of heathen origin. they 'pass through the fire' to st. constantine, but the observance must be far older than bulgarian christianity. the report says nothing as to the state of the feet of the nistinares after the fire-dance. medical inspection is desirable, and the photographic camera should be used to catch a picture of the wild scene. my account is abridged from the french version of the bulgarian report sent by dr. schischmanof. indian fire-walk since these lines were written the kindness of mr. tawney, librarian at the india office, has added to my stock of examples. thus, mr. stokes printed in the indian antiquary (ii. p. ) notes of evidence taken at an inquest on a boy of fourteen, who fell during the fire-walk, was burned, and died on that day. the rite had been forbidden, but was secretly practised in the village of periyangridi. the fire-pit was feet long by . feet broad and a span in depth. thirteen persons walked through the hot wood embers, which, in mr. stokes's opinion (who did not see the performance), 'would hardly injure the tough skin of the sole of a labourer's foot,' yet killed a boy. the treading was usually done by men under vows, perhaps vows made during illness. one, at least, walked 'because it is my duty as pujari.' another says, 'i got down into the fire at the east end, meditating on draupati, walked through to the west, and up the bank.' draupati is a goddess, wife of the pandavas. mr. stokes reports that, according to the incredulous, experienced fire-walkers smear their feet with oil of the green frog. no report is made as to the condition of their feet when they emerge from the fire. another case occurs in oppert's work, the original inhabitants of india (p. ). as usual, a pit is dug, filled with faggots. when these have burned down 'a little,' and 'while the heat is still unbearable in the neighbourhood of the ditch, those persons who have made the vow . . . walk . . . on the embers in the pit, without doing themselves as a rule much harm.' again, in a case where butter is poured over the embers to make a blaze, 'one of the tribal priests, in a state of religious afflatus, walks through the fire. it is said that the sacred fire is harmless, but some admit that a certain preservative ointment is used by the performers.' a chant used at mirzapur (as in fiji) is cited. { } in these examples the statements are rather vague. no evidence is adduced as to the actual effect of the fire on the feet of the ministrants. we hear casually of ointments which protect the feet, and of the thickness of the skins of the fire-walkers, and of the unapproachable heat, but we have nothing exact, no trace of scientific precision. the government 'puts down,' but does not really investigate the rite. psychical parallels i now very briefly, and 'under all reserves,' allude to the only modern parallel in our country with which i am acquainted. we have seen that iamblichus includes insensibility to fire among the privileges of graeco- egyptian 'mediums.' { } the same gift was claimed by daniel dunglas home, the notorious american spiritualist. i am well aware that as eusapia paladino was detected in giving a false impression that her hands were held by her neighbours in the dark, therefore, when mr. crookes asserts that he saw home handle fire in the light, his testimony on this point can have no weight with a logical public. consequently it is not as evidence to the _fact_ that i cite mr. crookes, but for another purpose. mr. crookes's remarks i heard, and i can produce plenty of living witnesses to the same experiences with d. d. home: 'i several times saw the fire test, both at my own and at other houses. on one occasion he called me to him when he went to the fire, and told me to watch carefully. he certainly put his hand in the grate and handled the red-hot coals in a manner which would have been impossible for me to have imitated without being severely burnt. i once saw him go to a bright wood fire, and, taking a large piece of red-hot charcoal, put it in the hollow of one hand, and, covering it with the other, blow into the extempore furnace till the coal was white hot, and the flames licked round his fingers. no sign of burning could be seen then or afterwards on his hands.' on these occasions home was, or was understood to be, 'entranced,' like the bulgarian nistinares. among other phenomena, the white handkerchief on which home laid a red-hot coal was not scorched, nor, on analysis, did it show any signs of chemical preparation. home could also (like the fijians) communicate his alleged immunity to others present; for example, to mr. s. c. hall. but it burned and marked a man i know. home, entranced, and handling a red-hot coal, passed it to a gentleman of my acquaintance, whose hand still bears the scar of the scorching endured in . immunity was not _always_ secured by experimenters. i only mention these circumstances because mr. crookes has stated that he knows no chemical preparation which would avert the ordinary action of heat. mr. clodd (on the authority of sir b. w. richardson) has suggested diluted sulphuric acid (so familiar to klings, hirpi, tongans, and fijians). but mr. clodd produced no examples of successful or unsuccessful experiment. { } the nescience of mr. crookes may be taken to cover these valuable properties of diluted sulphuric acid, unless mr. clodd succeeds in an experiment which, if made on his own person, i would very willingly witness. merely for completeness, i mention dr. dozous's statement, { } that he timed by his watch bernadette, the seer of lourdes, while, for fifteen minutes, she, in an ecstatic condition, held her hands in the flame of a candle. he then examined her hands, which were not scorched or in any way affected by the fire. this is called, at lourdes, the miracle du cierge. here ends my list of examples, in modern and ancient times, of a rite which deserves, though it probably will not receive, the attention of science. the widely diffused religious character of the performance will, perhaps, be admitted as demonstrated. as to the method by which the results are attained, whether by a chemical preparation, or by the influence of a certain mental condition, or by thickness of skin, or whether all the witnesses fable with a singular unanimity (shared by photographic cameras), i am unable even to guess. on may , in bulgaria, a scientific observer might come to a conclusion. at present i think it possible that the jewish 'passing through the fire' may have been a harmless rite. conclusion as to fire-walk in all these cases, and others as to which i have first-hand evidence, there are decided parallels to the rite of the hirpi, and to biblical and ecclesiastical miracles. the savage examples are _rites_, and appear intended to secure good results in food supplies (fiji), or general well- being, perhaps by expiation for sins, as in the attic thargelia. the bulgarian rite also aims at propitiating general good luck. psychical research but how is the fire-walk done? that remains a mystery, and perhaps no philologist, folk-lorist, anthropologist, or physiologist, has seriously asked the question. the medicamentum of varro, the green frog fat of india, the diluted sulphuric acid of mr. clodd, are guesses in the air, and mr. clodd has made no experiment. the possibility of plunging the hand, unhurt, in molten metal, is easily accounted for, and is not to the point. in this difficulty psychical research registers, and no more, the well-attested performances of d. d. home (entranced, like the nistinares); the well observed and timed miracle du cierge at lourdes--bernadette being in an ecstatic condition; the biblical story of shadrach, meshach, and abednego in the fiery furnace; the researches of iamblichus; the case of madame shchapoff, carefully reported, { } and other examples. there is no harm in collecting examples, and the question remains, are all those rites, from those of virgil's hirpi to bulgaria of to-day, based on some actual but obscure and scientifically neglected fact in nature? at all events, for the soranus-feronia rite philology only supplies her competing etymologies, folk-lore her modern rural parallels, anthropology her savage examples, psychical research her 'cases' at first-hand. anthropology had neglected the collection of these, perhaps because the fire-walk is 'impossible.' the origin of death yama this excursus on 'the fire-walk' has been introduced, as an occasion arose, less because of controversy about a neglected theme than for the purpose of giving something positive in a controversial treatise. for the same reason i take advantage of mr. max muller's remarks on yama, 'the first who died,' to offer a set of notes on myths of the origin of death. yama, in our author's opinion, is 'the setting sun' (i. ; ii. ). agni (fire) is 'the first who was born;' as the other twin, yama, he was also the first who died (ii. ). as 'the setting sun he was the first instance of death.' kuhn and others, judging from a passage in the atharva veda (xviii. , ), have, however, inferred that yama 'was really a human being and the first of mortals.' he is described in the atharva as 'the gatherer of men, who died the first of mortals, who went forward the first to that world.' in the atharva we read of 'reverence to yama, to death, who first approached the precipice, finding out the path for many.' 'the myth of yama is perfectly intelligible, if we trace its roots back to the sun of evening' (ii. ). mr. max muller then proposes on this head 'to consult the traditions of real naturvolker' (savages). the harvey islanders speak of dying as 'following the sun's track.' the maoris talk of 'going down with the sun' (ii. ). no more is said here about savage myths of 'the first who died.' i therefore offer some additions to the two instances in which savages use a poetical phrase connecting the sun's decline with man's death. the origin of death civilised man in a scientific age would never invent a myth to account for 'god's great ordinance of death.' he regards it as a fact, obvious and necessarily universal; but his own children have not attained to his belief in death. the certainty and universality of death do not enter into the thoughts of our little ones. for in the thought of immortality do children play about the flowery meads. now, there are still many childlike tribes of men who practically disbelieve in death. to them death is always a surprise and an accident--an unnecessary, irrelevant intrusion on the living world. 'natural deaths are by many tribes regarded as supernatural,' says dr. tylor. these tribes have no conception of death as the inevitable, eventual obstruction and cessation of the powers of the bodily machine; the stopping of the pulses and processes of life by violence or decay or disease. to persons who regard death thus, _his_ intrusion into the world (for death, of course, is thought to be a person) stands in great need of explanation. that explanation, as usual, is given in myths. death, regarded as unnatural but before studying these widely different myths, let us first establish the fact that death really is regarded as something non-natural and intrusive. the modern savage readily believes in and accounts in a scientific way for _violent_ deaths. the spear or club breaks or crushes a hole in a man, and his soul flies out. but the deaths he disbelieves in are _natural_ deaths. these he is obliged to explain as produced by some supernatural cause, generally the action of malevolent spirits impelled by witches. thus the savage holds that, violence apart and the action of witches apart, man would even now be immortal. 'there are rude races of australia and south america,' writes dr. tylor, { } 'whose intense belief in witchcraft has led them to declare that if men were never bewitched, and never killed by violence, _they would never die at all_. like the australians, the africans will inquire of their dead "what sorcerer slew them by his wicked arts."' 'the natives,' says sir george grey, speaking of the australians, 'do not believe that there is such a thing as death from natural causes.' on the death of an australian native from disease, a kind of magical coroner's inquest is held by the conjurers of the tribe, and the direction in which the wizard lives who slew the dead man is ascertained by the movements of worms and insects. the process is described at full length by mr. brough smyth in his aborigines of victoria (i. - ). turning from australia to hindustan, we find that the puwarrees (according to heber's narrative) attribute all natural deaths to a supernatural cause--namely, witchcraft. that is, the puwarrees do not yet believe in the universality and necessity of death. he is an intruder brought by magic arts into our living world. again, in his ethnology of bengal (pp. , ), dalton tells us that the hos (an aboriginal non-aryan race) are of the same opinion as the puwarrees. 'they hold that all disease in men or animals is attributable to one of two causes: the wrath of some evil spirit or the spell of some witch or sorcerer. these superstitions are common to all classes of the population of this province.' in the new hebrides disease and death are caused, as mr. codrington found, by tamates, or ghosts. { } in new caledonia, according to erskine, death is the result of witchcraft practised by members of a hostile tribe, for who would be so wicked as to bewitch his fellow-tribesman? the andaman islanders attribute all natural deaths to the supernatural influence of e rem chaugala, or to jurn-win, two spirits of the jungle and the sea. the death is avenged by the nearest relation of the deceased, who shoots arrows at the invisible enemy. the negroes of central africa entertain precisely similar ideas about the non-naturalness of death. mr. duff macdonald, in africana, writes: 'every man who dies what we call a natural death is really killed by witches.' it is a far cry from the blantyre mission in africa to the eskimo of the frozen north; but so uniform is human nature in the lower races that the eskimo precisely agree, as far as theories of death go, with the africans, the aborigines of india, the andaman islanders, the australians, and the rest. dr. rink { a} found that 'sickness or death coming about in an accidental manner was always attributed to witchcraft, and it remains a question whether death on the whole was not originally accounted for as resulting from magic.' pere paul le jeune, writing from quebec in , says of the red men: 'je n'en voy mourir quasi aucun, qui ne pense estre ensorcele.' { b} it is needless to show how these ideas survived into civilisation. bishop jewell, denouncing witches before queen elizabeth, was, so far, mentally on a level with the eskimo and the australian. the familiar and voluminous records of trials for witchcraft, whether at salem or at edinburgh, prove that all abnormal and unwonted deaths and diseases, in animals or in men, were explained by our ancestors as the results of supernatural mischief. it has been made plain (and the proof might be enlarged to any extent) that the savage does not regard death as 'god's great ordinance,' universal and inevitable and natural. but, being curious and inquisitive, he cannot help asking himself, 'how did this terrible invader first enter a world where he now appears so often?' this is, properly speaking, a scientific question; but the savage answers it, not by collecting facts and generalising from them, but by inventing a myth. that is his invariable habit. does he want to know why this tree has red berries, why that animal has brown stripes, why this bird utters its peculiar cry, where fire came from, why a constellation is grouped in one way or another, why his race of men differs from the whites--in all these, and in all other intellectual perplexities, the savage invents a story to solve the problem. stories about the origin of death are, therefore, among the commonest fruits of the savage imagination. as those legends have been produced to meet the same want by persons in a very similar mental condition, it inevitably follows that they all resemble each other with considerable closeness. we need not conclude that all the myths we are about to examine came from a single original source, or were handed about--with flint arrow-heads, seeds, shells, beads, and weapons--in the course of savage commerce. borrowing of this sort may--or, rather, must--explain many difficulties as to the diffusion of some myths. but the myths with which we are concerned now, the myths of the origin of death, might easily have been separately developed by simple and ignorant men seeking to discover an answer to the same problem. why men are mortal the myths of the origin of death fall into a few categories. in many legends of the lower races men are said to have become subject to mortality because they infringed some mystic prohibition or taboo of the sort which is common among untutored peoples. the apparently untrammelled polynesian, or australian, or african, is really the slave of countless traditions, which forbid him to eat this object or to touch that, or to speak to such and such a person, or to utter this or that word. races in this curious state of ceremonial subjection often account for death as the punishment imposed for breaking some taboo. in other cases, death is said to have been caused by a sin of omission, not of commission. people who have a complicated and minute ritual (like so many of the lower races) persuade themselves that death burst on the world when some passage of the ritual was first omitted, or when some custom was first infringed. yet again, death is fabled to have first claimed us for his victims in consequence of the erroneous delivery of a favourable message from some powerful supernatural being, or because of the failure of some enterprise which would have resulted in the overthrow of death, or by virtue of a pact or covenant between death and the gods. thus it will be seen that death is often (though by no means invariably) the penalty of infringing a command, or of indulging in a culpable curiosity. but there are cases, as we shall see, in which death, as a tolerably general law, follows on a mere accident. some one is accidentally killed, and this 'gives death a lead' (as they say in the hunting-field) over the fence which had hitherto severed him from the world of living men. it is to be observed in this connection that the first of men who died is usually regarded as the discoverer of a hitherto 'unknown country,' the land beyond the grave, to which all future men must follow him. bin dir woor, among the australians, was the first man who suffered death, and he (like yama in the vedic myth) became the columbus of the new world of the dead. savage death-myths let us now examine in detail a few of the savage stories of the origin of death. that told by the australians may be regarded with suspicion, as a refraction from a careless hearing of the narrative in genesis. the legend printed by mr. brough smyth { a} was told to mr. bulwer by 'a black fellow far from sharp,' and this black fellow may conceivably have distorted what his tribe had heard from a missionary. this sort of refraction is not uncommon, and we must always guard ourselves against being deceived by a savage corruption of a biblical narrative. here is the myth, such as it is:--'the first created man and woman were told' (by whom we do not learn) 'not to go near a certain tree in which a bat lived. the bat was not to be disturbed. one day, however, the woman was gathering firewood, and she went near the tree. the bat flew away, and after that came death.' more evidently genuine is the following legend of how death 'got a lead' into the australian world. 'the child of the first man was wounded. if his parents could heal him, death would never enter the world. they failed. death came.' the wound in this legend was inflicted by a supernatural being. here death acts on the principle ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute, and the premier pas was made easy for him. we may continue to examine the stories which account for death as the result of breaking a taboo. the ningphos of bengal say they were originally immortal. { b} they were forbidden to bathe in a certain pool of water. some one, greatly daring, bathed, and ever since ningphos have been subject to death. the infringement, not of a taboo, but of a custom, caused death in one of the many melanesian myths on this subject. men and women had been practically deathless because they cast their old skins at certain intervals; but a grandmother had a favourite grandchild who failed to recognise her when she appeared as a young woman in her new skin. with fatal good-nature the grandmother put on her old skin again, and instantly men lost the art of skin-shifting, and death finally seized them. { } the greek myth the greek myth of the origin of death is the most important of those which turn on the breaking of a prohibition. the story has unfortunately become greatly confused in the various poetical forms which have reached us. as far as can be ascertained, death was regarded in one early greek myth as the punishment of indulgence in forbidden curiosity. men appear to have been free from death before the quarrel between zeus and prometheus. in consequence of this quarrel hephaestus fashioned a woman out of earth and water, and gave her to epimetheus, the brother of the titan. prometheus had forbidden his brother to accept any gift from the gods, but the bride was welcomed nevertheless. she brought her tabooed coffer: this was opened; and men--who, according to hesiod, had hitherto lived exempt from 'maladies that bring down fate'--were overwhelmed with the 'diseases that stalk abroad by night and day.' now, in hesiod (works and days, - ) there is nothing said about unholy curiosity. pandora simply opened her casket and scattered its fatal contents. but philodemus assures us that, according to a variant of the myth, it was epimetheus who opened the forbidden coffer, whence came death. leaving the myths which turn on the breaking of a taboo, and reserving for consideration the new zealand story, in which the origin of death is the neglect of a ritual process, let us look at some african myths of the origin of death. it is to be observed that in these (as in all the myths of the most backward races) many of the characters are not gods, but animals. the bushman story lacks the beginning. the mother of the little hare was lying dead, but we do not know how she came to die. the moon then struck the little hare on the lip, cutting it open, and saying, 'cry loudly, for your mother will not return, as _i_ do, but is quite dead.' in another version the moon promises that the old hare shall return to life, but the little hare is sceptical, and is hit in the mouth as before. the hottentot myth makes the moon send the hare to men with the message that they will revive as he (the moon) does. but the hare 'loses his memory as he runs' (to quote the french proverb, which may be based on a form of this very tale), and the messenger brings the tidings that men shall surely die and never revive. the angry moon then burns a hole in the hare's mouth. in yet another hottentot version the hare's failure to deliver the message correctly caused the death of the moon's mother (bleek, bushman folklore). { } compare sir james alexander's expedition, ii. , where the namaquas tell this tale. the fijians say that the moon wished men to die and be born again, like herself. the rat said, 'no, let them die, like rats;' and they do. { } the serpent in this last variant we have death as the result of a failure or transgression. among the more backward natives of south india (lewin's wild races of south india) the serpent is concerned, in a suspicious way, with the origin of death. the following legend might so easily arise from a confused understanding of the mohammedan or biblical narrative that it is of little value for our purpose. at the same time, even if it is only an adaptation, it shows the characteristics of the adapting mind:--god had made the world, trees, and reptiles, and then set to work to make man out of clay. a serpent came and devoured the still inanimate clay images while god slept. the serpent still comes and bites us all, and the end is death. if god never slept, there would be no death. the snake carries us off while god is asleep. but the oddest part of this myth remains. not being able always to keep awake, god made a dog to drive away the snake by barking. and that is why dogs always howl when men are at the point of death. here we have our own rural superstition about howling dogs twisted into a south indian myth of the origin of death. the introduction of death by a pure accident recurs in a myth of central africa reported by mr. duff macdonald. there was a time when the man blessed by sancho panza had not yet 'invented sleep.' a woman it was who came and offered to instruct two men in the still novel art of sleeping. 'she held the nostrils of one, and he never awoke at all,' and since then the art of dying has been facile. dualistic myths a not unnatural theory of the origin of death is illustrated by a myth from pentecost island and a red indian myth. in the legends of very many races we find the attempt to account for the origin of death and evil by a simple dualistic myth. there were two brothers who made things; one made things well, the other made them ill. in pentecost island it was tagar who made things well, and he appointed that men should die for five days only, and live again. but the malevolent suque caused men 'to die right out.' { } the red indian legend of the same character is printed in the annual report of the bureau of ethnology ( - ), p. . the younger of the cin-au-av brothers, who were wolves, said, 'when a man dies, send him back in the morning and let all his friends rejoice.' 'not so,' said the elder; 'the dead shall return no more.' so the younger brother slew the child of the elder, and this was the beginning of death. economic myth there is another and a very quaint myth of the origin of death in banks island. at first, in banks island, as elsewhere, men were immortal. the economical results were just what might have been expected. property became concentrated in the hands of the few--that is, of the first generations--while all the younger people were practically paupers. to heal the disastrous social malady, qat (the maker of things, who was more or less a spider) sent for mate--that is, death. death lived near a volcanic crater of a mountain, where there is now a by-way into hades--or panoi, as the melanesians call it. death came, and went through the empty forms of a funeral feast for himself. tangaro the fool was sent to watch mate, and to see by what way he returned to hades, that men might avoid that path in future. now when mate fled to his own place, this great fool tangaro noticed the path, but forgot which it was, and pointed it out to men under the impression that it was the road to the _upper_, not to the _under_, world. ever since that day men have been constrained to follow mate's path to panoi and the dead. { } another myth is somewhat different, but, like this one, attributes death to the imbecility of tangaro the fool. maui and yama the new zealand myth of the origin of death is pretty well known, as dr. tylor has seen in it the remnants of a solar myth, and has given it a 'solar' explanation. it is an audacious thing to differ from so cautious and learned an anthropologist as dr. tylor, but i venture to give my reasons for dissenting in this case from the view of the author of primitive culture (i. ). maui is the great hero of maori mythology. he was not precisely a god, still less was he one of the early elemental gods, yet we can scarcely regard him as a man. he rather answers to one of the race of titans, and especially to prometheus, the son of a titan. maui was prematurely born, and his mother thought the child would be no credit to her already numerous and promising family. she therefore (as native women too often did in the south-sea islands) tied him up in her long tresses and tossed him out to sea. the gales brought him back to shore: one of his grandparents carried him home, and he became much the most illustrious and successful of his household. so far maui had the luck which so commonly attends the youngest and least-considered child in folklore and mythology. this feature in his myth may be a result of the very widespread custom of jungsten recht (borough english), by which the youngest child is heir at least of the family hearth. now, unluckily, at the baptism of maui (for a pagan form of baptism is a maori ceremony) his father omitted some of the karakias, or ritual utterances proper to be used on such occasions. this was the fatal original mistake whence came man's liability to death, for hitherto men had been immortal. so far, what is there 'solar' about maui? who are the sun's brethren?--and maui had many. how could the sun catch the sun in a snare, and beat him so as to make him lame? this was one of maui's feats, for he meant to prevent the sun from running too fast through the sky. maui brought fire, indeed, from the under-world, as prometheus stole it from the upper-world; but many men and many beasts do as much as the myths of the world, and it is hard to see how the exploit gives maui 'a solar character.' maui invented barbs for hooks, and other appurtenances of early civilisation, with which the sun has no more to do than with patent safety-matches. his last feat was to attempt to secure human immortality for ever. there are various legends on this subject. maui myths some say maui noticed that the sun and moon rose again from their daily death, by virtue of a fountain in hades (hine-nui-te-po) where they bathed. others say he wished to kill hine-nui-te-po (conceived of as a woman) and to carry off her heart. whatever the reason, maui was to be swallowed up in the giant frame of hades, or night, and, if he escaped alive, death would never have power over men. he made the desperate adventure, and would have succeeded but for the folly of one of the birds which accompanied him. this little bird, which sings at sunset, burst out laughing inopportunely, wakened hine-nui-te-po, and she crushed to death maui and all hopes of earthly immortality. had he only come forth alive, men would have been deathless. now, except that the bird which laughed sings at sunset, what is there 'solar' in all this? _the sun does daily what maui failed to do_, { a} passes through darkness and death back into light and life. not only does the sun daily succeed where maui failed, but it was his observation of this fact which encouraged maui to risk the adventure. if maui were the sun, we should all be immortal, for maui's ordeal is daily achieved by the sun. but dr. tylor says: { b} 'it is seldom that solar characteristics are more distinctly marked in the several details of a myth than they are here.' to us the characteristics seem to be precisely the reverse of solar. throughout the cycle of maui he is constantly set in direct opposition to the sun, and the very point of the final legend is that what the sun could do maui could not. literally the one common point between maui and the sun is that the little bird, the tiwakawaka, which sings at the daily death of day, sang at the eternal death of maui. without pausing to consider the tongan myth of the origin of death, we may go on to investigate the legends of the aryan races. according to the satapatha brahmana, death was made, like the gods and other creatures, by a being named prajapati. now of prajapati, half was mortal, half was immortal. with his mortal half he feared death, and concealed himself from death in earth and water. death said to the gods, 'what hath become of him who created us?' they answered, 'fearing thee, hath he entered the earth.' the gods and prajapati now freed themselves from the dominion of death by celebrating an enormous number of sacrifices. death was chagrined by their escape from the 'nets and clubs' which he carries in the aitareya brahmana. 'as you have escaped me, so will men also escape,' he grumbled. the gods appeased him by the promise that, _in the body_, no man henceforth for ever should evade death. 'every one who is to become immortal shall do so by first parting with his body.' yama among the aryans of india, as we have already seen, death has a protomartyr, tama, 'the first of men who reached the river, spying out a path for many.' in spying the path yama corresponds to tangaro the fool, in the myth of the solomon islands. but yama is not regarded as a maleficent being, like tangaro. the rig veda (x. ) speaks of him as 'king yama, who departed to the mighty streams and sought out a road for many;' and again, the atharva veda names him 'the first of men who died, and the first who departed to the celestial world.' with him the blessed fathers dwell for ever in happiness. mr. max muller, as we said, takes yama to be 'a character suggested by the setting sun'--a claim which is also put forward, as we have seen, for the maori hero maui. it is yama, according to the rig veda, who sends the birds--a pigeon is one of his messengers (compare the white bird of the oxenhams)--as warnings of approaching death. among the iranian race, yima appears to have been the counterpart of the vedic yama. he is now king of the blessed; originally he was the first of men over whom death won his earliest victory. inferences that yama is mixed up with the sun, in the rig veda, seems certain enough. most phenomena, most gods, shade into each other in the vedic hymns. but it is plain that the conception of a 'first man who died' is as common to many races as it is natural. death was regarded as unnatural, yet here it is among us. how did it come? by somebody dying first, and establishing a bad precedent. but need that somebody have been originally the sun, as mr. max muller and dr. tylor think in the cases of yama and maui? this is a point on which we may remain in doubt, for death in itself was certain to challenge inquiry among savage philosophers, and to be explained by a human rather than by a solar myth. human, too, rather than a result of 'disease of language' is, probably, the myth of the fire-stealer. the stealing of fire the world-wide myth explaining how man first became possessed of fire--namely, by _stealing_ it--might well serve as a touchstone of the philological and anthropological methods. to mr. max muller the interest of the story will certainly consist in discovering connections between greek and sanskrit names of fire-gods and of fire bringing heroes. he will not compare the fire-myths of other races all over the world, nor will he even try to explain why--in almost all of these myths we find a thief of fire, a fire-stealer. this does not seem satisfactory to the anthropologist, whose first curiosity is to know why fire is everywhere said to have been obtained for men by sly theft or 'flat burglary.' of course it is obvious that a myth found in australia and america cannot possibly be the result of disease of aryan languages not spoken in those two continents. the myth of fire-stealing must necessarily have some other origin. 'fire totems' mr. max muller, after a treatise on agni and other fire-gods, consecrates two pages to 'fire totems.' 'if we are assured that there are some dark points left, and that these might be illustrated and rendered more intelligible by what are called fire totems among the red indians of north america, let us have as much light as we can get' (ii. ). alas! i never heard of fire totems before. probably some one has been writing about them, somewhere, unless we owe them to mr. max muller's own researches. of course, he cites no authority for his fire totems. 'the fire totem, we are told, would thus naturally have become the god of the indians.' 'we are told'--where, and by whom? not a hint is given on the subject, so we must leave the doctrine of fire totems to its mysterious discoverer. 'if others prefer to call prometheus a fire totem, no one would object, if only it would help us to a better understanding of prometheus' (ii. ). who are the 'others' who speak of a greek 'culture-hero' by the impossibly fantastic name of 'a fire totem'? prometheus mr. max muller 'follows kuhn' in his explanation of prometheus, the fire- stealer, but he does not follow him all the way. kuhn tried to account for the myth that prometheus _stole_ fire, and mr. max muller does not try. { } kuhn connects prometheus with the sanskrit pramantha, the stick used in producing fire by drilling a pointed into a flat piece of wood. the greeks, of course, made prometheus mean 'foresighted,' providens; but let it be granted that the germans know better. pramantha next is associated with the verb mathnami, 'to rub _or_ grind;' and that, again, with greek [greek], 'to learn.' we too talk of a student as a 'grinder,' by a coincidence. the root manth likewise means 'to rob;' and we can see in english how a fire-stick, a 'fire-rubber,' might become a 'fire-robber,' a stealer of fire. a somewhat similar confusion in old aryan languages converted the fire-stick into a person, the thief of fire, prometheus; while a greek misunderstanding gave to prometheus (pramantha, 'fire-stick') the meaning of 'foresighted,' with the word for prudent foresight, [greek]. this, roughly stated, is the view of kuhn. { a} mr. max muller concludes that prometheus, the producer of fire, is also the fire-god, a representative of agni, and necessarily 'of the inevitable dawn'--'of agni as the deus matutinus, a frequent character of the vedic agni, the agni aushasa, or the daybreak' (ii. ). but mr. max muller does not say one word about prometheus as the fire- stealer. now, that he _stole_ fire is of the essence of his myth; and this myth of the original procuring of fire by theft occurs all over the world. as australian and american savages cannot conceivably have derived the myth of fire-stealing from the root manth and its double sense of stealing and rubbing, there must be some other explanation. but this fact could not occur to comparative mythologists who did not compare, probably did not even know, similar myths wherever found. savage myths of fire-stealing in la mythologie (pp. - ) i have put together a small collection of savage myths of the theft of fire. { b} our text is the line of hesiod (theogony, ), 'prometheus _stole_ the far-seen ray of unwearied fire in a hollow stalk of fennel.' the same stalk is still used in the greek isles for carrying fire, as it was of old--whence no doubt this feature of the myth. { c} how did prometheus steal fire? some say from the altar of zeus, others that he lit his rod at the sun. { a} the australians have the same fable; fire was obtained by a black fellow who climbed by a rope to the sun. again, in australia fire was the possession of two women alone. a man induced them to turn their backs, and stole fire. a very curious version of the myth occurs in an excellent book by mrs. langloh parker. { b} there was no fire when rootoolgar, the crane, married gooner, the kangaroo rat. rootoolgar, idly rubbing two sticks together, discovered the art of fire-making. 'this we will keep secret,' they said, 'from all the tribes.' a fire- stick they carried about in their comebee. the tribes of the bush discovered the secret, and the fire-stick was stolen by reeargar, the hawk. we shall be told, of course, that the hawk is the lightning, or the dawn. but in this savage jungle book all the characters are animals, and reeargar is no more the dawn than is the kangaroo rat. in savage myths animals, not men, play the leading roles, and the fire-stealing bird or beast is found among many widely scattered races. in normandy the wren is the fire-bringer. { c} a bird brings fire in the andaman isles. { d} among the ahts a fish owned fire; other beasts stole it. the raven hero of the thlinkeets, yehl, stole fire. among the cahrocs two old women possessed it, and it was stolen by the coyote. are these theftuous birds and beasts to be explained as fire-gods? probably not. will any philologist aver that in cahroc, thlinkeet. australian, andaman, and so forth, the word for 'rub' resembled the word for 'rob,' and so produced by 'a disease of language' the myth of the fire-stealer? origin of the myth of fire-stealing the myth arose from the nature of savage ideas, not from unconscious puns. even in a race so civilised as the homeric greeks, to make fire was no easy task. homer speaks of a man, in a lonely upland hut, who carefully keeps the embers alive, that he may not have to go far afield in search of the seed of fire. { } obviously he had no ready means of striking a light. suppose, then, that an early savage loses his seed of fire. his nearest neighbours, far enough off, may be hostile. if he wants fire, as they will not give it, he must _steal_ it, just as he must steal a wife. people in this condition would readily believe, like the australian blacks, that the original discoverers or possessors of a secret so valuable as fire would not give it away, that others who wanted it would be obliged to get it by theft. in greece, in a civilised race, this very natural old idea survives, though fire is not the possession of a crane, or of an old woman, but of the gods, and is stolen, not by a hawk or a coyote, but by prometheus, the culture-hero and demiurge. whether his name 'foresighted' is a mistaken folk-etymology from the root manth, or not, we have, in the ancient inevitable idea, that the original patentees of fire would not willingly part with their treasure, the obvious origin of the myth of the fire-stealer. and this theory does not leave the analogous savage myths of fire-stealing unexplained and out in the cold, as does the philological hypothesis. { } in this last instance, as in others, the origin of a world-wide myth is found, not in a 'disease of language,' but in a form of thought still natural. if a foreign power wants what answers among us to the exclusive possession of fire, or wants the secret of its rival's new explosive, it has to _steal_ it. conclusion here ends this 'gentle and joyous passage of arms.' i showed, first, why anthropological students of mythology, finding the philological school occupying the ground, were obliged in england to challenge mr. max muller. i then discoursed of some inconveniences attending his method in controversy. next, i gave a practical example, the affair of tuna and daphne. this led to a comparison of the philological and the anthropological ways of treating the daphne myth. the question of our allies then coming up, i stated my reasons for regarding prof. tiele 'rather as an ally than an adversary,' the reason being his own statement. presently, i replied to prof. tiele's criticism of my treatment of the myth of cronos. after a skirmish on italian fields, i gave my reasons for disagreeing with mr. max muller's view of mannhardt's position. his theory of demeter erinnys was contrasted with that of mr. max muller. totemism occupied us next, and the views of mr. max muller and mr. j. g. frazer were criticised. then i defended anthropological and criticised philological evidence. our method of universal comparison was next justified in the matter of fetishism. the riddle theory of mr. max muller was presently discussed. then followed a review of our contending methods in the explanation of artemis, of the fire-walk, of death myths, and of the fire-stealer. thus a number of points in mythological interpretation have been tested on typical examples. much more might be said on a book of nearly pages. many points might be taken, much praise (were mine worth anything) might be given; but i have had but one object, to defend the method of anthropology from a running or dropping fire of criticism which breaks out in many points all along the line, through contributions to the science of mythology. if my answer be desultory and wandering, remember the sporadic sharpshooting of the adversary! for adversary we must consider mr. max muller, so long as we use different theories to different results. if i am right, if he is wrong, in our attempts to untie this old gordian knot, he loses little indeed. that fame of his, the most steady and brilliant light of all which crown the brows of contemporary scholars, is the well-earned reward, not of mythological lore nor of cunning fence in controversy, but of wide learning and exquisitely luminous style. i trust that i have imputed no unfairness, made no charge of conscious misrepresentation (to accidents of exposition we are all liable), have struck no foul blow, hazarded no discourteous phrase. if i have done so, i am thereby, even more than in my smattering of unscholarly learning, an opponent more absolutely unworthy of the right hon. professor than i would fain believe myself. appendix a: the fire-walk in spain one study occasionally illustrates another. in examining the history of the earl marischal, who was exiled after the rising of , i found, in a letter of a correspondent of d'alembert, that the earl met a form of the fire-walk in spain. there then existed in the peninsula a hereditary class of men who, by dint of 'charms' permitted by the inquisition, could enter fire unharmed. the earl marischal said that he would believe in their powers if he were allowed first to light the fire, and then to look on. but the fire-walkers would not gratify him, as not knowing what kind of fire a heretic might kindle. appendix b: mr. macdonell on vedic mythology too late for use here came vedic mythology, from grundriss der indo-arischen philologie, { } by mr. a. macdonell, the representative of the historic house of lochgarry. this even a non-scholar can perceive to be a most careful and learned work. as to philological 'equations' between names of greek and vedic gods, mr. macdonell writes: 'dyaus=[greek] is the only one which can be said to be beyond the range of doubt.' as to the connection of prometheus with sanskrit pramantha, he says: '[greek] has every appearance of being a purely greek formation, while the indian verb math, to twirl, is found compounded only with nis, never with pra, to express the art of producing fire by friction.' (see above, p. .) if mr. macdonell is right here, the greek myth of the fire-stealer cannot have arisen from 'a disease of language.' but scholars must be left to reconcile this last typical example of their ceaseless differences in the matter of etymology of names. footnotes { a} chips, iv. . { b} chips, iv. p. xxxv. { c} chips, iv. pp. vi. vii. { d} ibid. iv. p. xv. { e} cults of the greek states, ii. - . { f} chips, iv. p. xiv. { g} chips, iv. p. xiii. { } suidas, s.v. [greek]; he cites dionysius of chalcis, b.c. . { a} see goguet, and millar of glasgow, and voltaire. { b} translated by m. parmentier. { } see 'totemism,' infra. { } longmans. { a} m. r. r. i. - . { b} tylor's prim. cult. i. . { c} turner's samoa, p. . { d} gill's myths and songs, p. . { } m. r. r. ii. . { } metam. i. . { a} grimm, cited by liebrecht in zur volkskunde, p. . { b} primitive culture, i. . { c} op. cit. i. - . { } m. r. r. i. . { } erratum: this is erroneous. see contributions, &c., vol. i. p. , where mr. max muller writes, 'tuna means eel.' this shows why tuna, i.e. eel, is the hero. his connection, as an admirer, with the moon, perhaps remains obscure. { } phonetically there may be 'no possible objection to the derivation of [greek] from a sanskrit form, *apa-var-yan, or *apa-val-yan' (ii. ); but, historically, greek is not derived from sanskrit surely! { a} mythologische forschungen, p. . { b} baumkultus, p. . berlin: . { a} antike wald- und feldkulte, p. . referring to baumkultus, p. . { b} oriental and linguistic studies, second series, p. . la religion vedique, iii. . { } , viii. cf. i. . { } riv. crit. mensile. geneva, iii. xiv. p. . { a} custom and myth, p. , citing revue de l'hist. des religions, ii. . { b} m. r. r. i. . { c} revue de l'hist. des religions, xii. . { } op. cit. p. . { } op. cit. xii. . { a} p. , infra. { b} revue de l'hist. des religions, xii. . { a} m. r. r. i. . { b} rev. xii. . { } m. r. r. i. . { a} rev. xii. . { b} rev. xii. . { c} m. r. r. i. , . { a} custom and myth, p. . { b} rev. xii. . { } odyssey, book ix. { } c. and m. p. . { a} w. u. f. k. xxiii. { b} m. r. r. i. . { c} w. u. f. k. xvii. { } golden bough, . ix. { } [greek]. dionys. i. . { a} pausanias, viii. . { b} myth. forsch. p. . { c} iliad, xx. . { } myth. forsch, p. { } september , . myth. forsch. xiv. { } for undeniable solar myths see m. r. r. i. - . { } op. cit. p. xx. { } folk lore society. { a} von einem der vorzuglichsten schiriftgelehrten, annana, in klassischer darstellung aufgezeichneten marchens, p. . { b} custom and myth. { a} see preface to mrs. hunt's translation of grimm's marchen. { b} p. . { } x. . cf. muir, sanskrit texts, v. . { } as the sun's wife is dawn, and leaves him at dawn, she is not much of a bedfellow. as _night_, however, she _is_ a bedfellow of the nocturnal sun. { } m. r. r. i. - . { a} see robertson smith on 'semitic religion.' { b} see sayce's herodotus, p. . { c} see rhys' rhind lectures; i am not convinced by the evidence. { } academy, september , . { a} anth. rel. p. . { b} plantagenet, planta genista.--a. l. { c} see m. r. r. ii. , for a criticism of this theory. { } religion of the semites, pp. , . { } die religionen, p. . { } anth. rel. p. . { } dalton. { a} strabo, xiii. . pausanias, i. , . { b} crooke, introduction to popular religion of north india, p. . { a} c. and m. p. . { b} contributions, ii. . { a} evidence in g. b. i. , . { b} compare liebrecht, 'the eaten god,' in zur volkskunde, p. . { a} cf. g. b. ii. , for evidence. { b} m. r. r. ii. . { c} g. b. ii. - . { d} in encyclop. brit. he thinks it 'very probable.' { a} i. . { b} m. r. r. ii. , - . { c} r. v. iv. , . { } g. b. ii. - . { } g. b. ii. . { a} plutarch, quaest. rom. vi. mclennan, the patriarchal theory, p. , note . { b} g. b. ii. . { a} see g. b. ii. - . { b} religion of the semites, p. . { } g. b. ii. , . { a} custom and myth, p. . { b} m. r. r. ii. . { c} op. cit. ii. . { } lectures on science of language, second series, p. . { } m. r. r. ii. . { } anthropological religion. { a} m. r. r. i. - . { b} ibid. i. . { c} anth. rel. p. . { } 'totemism,' encyclop. brit. { a} m. r. r. ii. . { b} ibid. ii. . { } m. r.. r.. i. , ; ii. , . { a} greek etym. engl. transl. i. . { b} sprachvergleichung und urgeschichte, p. . { } gr. etym. i. . { } m. r. r. ii. . { a} ii. . cf. oldenberg in deutsche rundschau, , p. . { b} r. v. iv. , . { } aglaophamus, i. . { } custom and myth, i. - . m. r. r. ii. - . { } custom and myth, pp. - . { a} culte des fetiches, . { b} codrington, journal anthrop. inst., feb. . { a} c. and m. p. , note. { b} rochas, les forces non definies, , pp. - , , . { c} revue bleue, , p. . { d} de brosses, p. . { a} c. and m. p. . { b} m. r. r. i. . { c} lectures on the science of language, nd series, p. . { } m. r. r. ii. and . { } m. r. r. ii. . { a} paris: oeuvres, , iii. . { b} m. r. r. ii. . { } i have no concern with his criticism of mr. herbert spencer (p. ), as i entirely disagree with that philosopher's theory. the defence of 'animism' i leave to dr. tylor. { } meyer, , apud brough smyth, aborigines of victoria, i. . { } my italics. { a} m. r. r. ii. - . { b} ibid. ii. . { } m. r. r. ii. . { a} de dianae antiquissima apud graecos natura, p. . vratislaw, . { b} de diane brauron, p. . compare, for all the learning, mr. farnell, in cults of the greek states. { a} m. r. r. i. x. { b} life in california, pp. , . { c} religion of the semites, p. . { d} see also mr. frazer, golden bough, ii. - ; and robertson smith, op. cit. pp. - . { e} apostolius, viii. ; vii. . { a} melanesians, p. . { b} samoa, p. . { c} m. r. r. ii. . { d} see also frazer, golden bough, ii. . { e} m. r. r. ii. . { a} m. r. r. ii. . { b} custom and myth, 'star myths.' { a} l. preller, rom. myth. p. , gives etymologies. { b} aen. xi. . { a} a. w. f. p. . { b} dionys. halic. iii. . { c} hist. nat. vii. . { d} aen. xi. . { e} aen. xi. . { a} serv. aen. vii. . { b} authorities in a. f. w. k. p. . { a} herabkunft, p. . { b} pausanias, viii. . { c} a. w. f. k. xxii. xxiii. { } janus, pp. - . { } home, the medium, was, or affected to be, entranced in his fire tricks, as was bernadette, at lourdes, in the miracle du cierge. { } the photograph referred to is evidently taken from a sketch by hand, and is not therefore a photograph from life.--editor. the original photograph was hereon sent to the editor and acknowledged by him.--a. l. { } proces, quicherat, ii. , { } introduction to popular religion and folk-lore in northern india, by w. crookes, b.a., p. . { } iamblichus, de myst. iii. . { } folk-lore, september . { } quoted by dr. boissarie in his book, lourdes, p. , from a book by dr. dozous, now rare. thanks to information from dr. boissarie, i have procured the book by dr. dozous, an eye-witness of the miracle, and have verified the quotation. { } predvestniki spiritizma za posleanie lyet. a. m. aksakoff, st. petersburg, . see mr. leaf's review, proceedings s. p. r. xii. . { } prim. cult. i. . { } journal of anthrop. institute, x. iii. { a} tales and traditions of the eskimo, p. . { b} relations, , p. . { a} abor. of victoria, i. . { b} dalton, op. cit. { } codrington, journal anthrop. institute, x. iii. for america, compare relations de la nouvelle france, , p. . { } the connection between the moon and the hare is also found in sanskrit, in mexican, in some of the south sea islands, and in german and buddhist folklore. probably what we call 'the man in the moon' seemed very like a hare to various races, roused their curiosity, and provoked explanations in the shape of myths. { } hahn, tsuni-goam, p. . { } codrington, op. cit, p. . { } codrington, op. cit. { a} bastian, heilige sage. { b} primitive culture, i. . { } kuhn, die herabkunft der feuers und der gottertranks. berlin, . { a} herabkunft, pp. , . { b} dupret, paris, . translation by m. parmentier. { c} pliny, hist. nat. xiii. . bent. cyclades. { a} servius ad virg., eclogue vi. . { b} australian legendary tales. nutt: london, . mrs. parker knows australian dialects, and gives one story in the original. her tribes live on the narran river, in new south wales. { c} bosquet, la normandie merveilleuse. paris, . { d} journal anthrop. institute, november, . { } odyssey, v. - . { } references for savage myths of the fire-stealer will be found--for the ahts, in sproat; for the tribes of the pacific coast, in bancroft; for australians in brough smyth's aborigines of victoria. { } trubner, strasburg, . bulfinch's mythology the age of fable the age of chivalry legends of charlemagne by thomas bulfinch complete in one volume [editor's note: the etext contains all three sections.] publishers' preface no new edition of bulfinch's classic work can be considered complete without some notice of the american scholar to whose wide erudition and painstaking care it stands as a perpetual monument. "the age of fable" has come to be ranked with older books like "pilgrim's progress," "gulliver's travels," "the arabian nights," "robinson crusoe," and five or six other productions of world-wide renown as a work with which every one must claim some acquaintance before his education can be called really complete. many readers of the present edition will probably recall coming in contact with the work as children, and, it may be added, will no doubt discover from a fresh perusal the source of numerous bits of knowledge that have remained stored in their minds since those early years. yet to the majority of this great circle of readers and students the name bulfinch in itself has no significance. thomas bulfinch was a native of boston, mass., where he was born in . his boyhood was spent in that city, and he prepared for college in the boston schools. he finished his scholastic training at harvard college, and after taking his degree was for a period a teacher in his home city. for a long time later in life he was employed as an accountant in the boston merchants' bank. his leisure time he used for further pursuit of the classical studies which he had begun at harvard, and his chief pleasure in life lay in writing out the results of his reading, in simple, condensed form for young or busy readers. the plan he followed in this work, to give it the greatest possible usefulness, is set forth in the author's preface. "age of fable," first edition, ; "the age of chivalry," ; "the boy inventor," ; "legends of charlemagne, or romance of the middle ages," ; "poetry of the age of fable," ; "oregon and eldorado, or romance of the rivers," . in this complete edition of his mythological and legendary lore "the age of fable," "the age of chivalry," and "legends of charlemagne" are included. scrupulous care has been taken to follow the original text of bulfinch, but attention should be called to some additional sections which have been inserted to add to the rounded completeness of the work, and which the publishers believe would meet with the sanction of the author himself, as in no way intruding upon his original plan but simply carrying it out in more complete detail. the section on northern mythology has been enlarged by a retelling of the epic of the "nibelungen lied," together with a summary of wagner's version of the legend in his series of music-dramas. under the head of "hero myths of the british race" have been included outlines of the stories of beowulf, cuchulain, hereward the wake, and robin hood. of the verse extracts which occur throughout the text, thirty or more have been added from literature which has appeared since bulfinch's time, extracts that he would have been likely to quote had he personally supervised the new edition. finally, the index has been thoroughly overhauled and, indeed, remade. all the proper names in the work have been entered, with references to the pages where they occur, and a concise explanation or definition of each has been given. thus what was a mere list of names in the original has been enlarged into a small classical and mythological dictionary, which it is hoped will prove valuable for reference purposes not necessarily connected with "the age of fable." acknowledgments are due the writings of dr. oliver huckel for information on the point of wagner's rendering of the nibelungen legend, and m. i. ebbutt's authoritative volume on "hero myths and legends of the british race," from which much of the information concerning the british heroes has been obtained author's preface if no other knowledge deserves to be called useful but that which helps to enlarge our possessions or to raise our station in society, then mythology has no claim to the appellation. but if that which tends to make us happier and better can be called useful, then we claim that epithet for our subject. for mythology is the handmaid of literature; and literature is one of the best allies of virtue and promoters of happiness. without a knowledge of mythology much of the elegant literature of our own language cannot be understood and appreciated. when byron calls rome "the niobe of nations," or says of venice, "she looks a sea-cybele fresh from ocean," he calls up to the mind of one familiar with our subject, illustrations more vivid and striking than the pencil could furnish, but which are lost to the reader ignorant of mythology. milton abounds in similar allusions. the short poem "comus" contains more than thirty such, and the ode "on the morning of the nativity" half as many. through "paradise lost" they are scattered profusely. this is one reason why we often hear persons by no means illiterate say that they cannot enjoy milton. but were these persons to add to their more solid acquirements the easy learning of this little volume, much of the poetry of milton which has appeared to them "harsh and crabbed" would be found "musical as is apollo's lute." our citations, taken from more than twenty-five poets, from spenser to longfellow, will show how general has been the practice of borrowing illustrations from mythology. the prose writers also avail themselves of the same source of elegant and suggestive illustration. one can hardly take up a number of the "edinburgh" or "quarterly review" without meeting with instances. in macaulay's article on milton there are twenty such. but how is mythology to be taught to one who does not learn it through the medium of the languages of greece and rome? to devote study to a species of learning which relates wholly to false marvels and obsolete faiths is not to be expected of the general reader in a practical age like this. the time even of the young is claimed by so many sciences of facts and things that little can be spared for set treatises on a science of mere fancy. but may not the requisite knowledge of the subject be acquired by reading the ancient poets in translations? we reply, the field is too extensive for a preparatory course; and these very translations require some previous knowledge of the subject to make them intelligible. let any one who doubts it read the first page of the "aeneid," and see what he can make of "the hatred of juno," the "decree of the parcae," the "judgment of paris," and the "honors of ganymede," without this knowledge. shall we be told that answers to such queries may be found in notes, or by a reference to the classical dictionary? we reply, the interruption of one's reading by either process is so annoying that most readers prefer to let an allusion pass unapprehended rather than submit to it. moreover, such sources give us only the dry facts without any of the charm of the original narrative; and what is a poetical myth when stripped of its poetry? the story of ceyx and halcyone, which fills a chapter in our book, occupies but eight lines in the best (smith's) classical dictionary; and so of others. our work is an attempt to solve this problem, by telling the stories of mythology in such a manner as to make them a source of amusement. we have endeavored to tell them correctly, according to the ancient authorities, so that when the reader finds them referred to he may not be at a loss to recognize the reference. thus we hope to teach mythology not as a study, but as a relaxation from study; to give our work the charm of a story-book, yet by means of it to impart a knowledge of an important branch of education. the index at the end will adapt it to the purposes of reference, and make it a classical dictionary for the parlor. most of the classical legends in "stories of gods and heroes" are derived from ovid and virgil. they are not literally translated, for, in the author's opinion, poetry translated into literal prose is very unattractive reading. neither are they in verse, as well for other reasons as from a conviction that to translate faithfully under all the embarrassments of rhyme and measure is impossible. the attempt has been made to tell the stories in prose, preserving so much of the poetry as resides in the thoughts and is separable from the language itself, and omitting those amplifications which are not suited to the altered form. the northern mythological stories are copied with some abridgment from mallet's "northern antiquities." these chapters, with those on oriental and egyptian mythology, seemed necessary to complete the subject, though it is believed these topics have not usually been presented in the same volume with the classical fables. the poetical citations so freely introduced are expected to answer several valuable purposes. they will tend to fix in memory the leading fact of each story, they will help to the attainment of a correct pronunciation of the proper names, and they will enrich the memory with many gems of poetry, some of them such as are most frequently quoted or alluded to in reading and conversation. having chosen mythology as connected with literature for our province, we have endeavored to omit nothing which the reader of elegant literature is likely to find occasion for. such stories and parts of stories as are offensive to pure taste and good morals are not given. but such stories are not often referred to, and if they occasionally should be, the english reader need feel no mortification in confessing his ignorance of them. our work is not for the learned, nor for the theologian, nor for the philosopher, but for the reader of english literature, of either sex, who wishes to comprehend the allusions so frequently made by public speakers, lecturers, essayists, and poets, and those which occur in polite conversation. in the "stories of gods and heroes" the compiler has endeavored to impart the pleasures of classical learning to the english reader, by presenting the stories of pagan mythology in a form adapted to modern taste. in "king arthur and his knights" and "the mabinogeon" the attempt has been made to treat in the same way the stories of the second "age of fable," the age which witnessed the dawn of the several states of modern europe. it is believed that this presentation of a literature which held unrivalled sway over the imaginations of our ancestors, for many centuries, will not be without benefit to the reader, in addition to the amusement it may afford. the tales, though not to be trusted for their facts, are worthy of all credit as pictures of manners; and it is beginning to be held that the manners and modes of thinking of an age are a more important part of its history than the conflicts of its peoples, generally leading to no result. besides this, the literature of romance is a treasure-house of poetical material, to which modern poets frequently resort. the italian poets, dante and ariosto, the english, spenser, scott, and tennyson, and our own longfellow and lowell, are examples of this. these legends are so connected with each other, so consistently adapted to a group of characters strongly individualized in arthur, launcelot, and their compeers, and so lighted up by the fires of imagination and invention, that they seem as well adapted to the poet's purpose as the legends of the greek and roman mythology. and if every well-educated young person is expected to know the story of the golden fleece, why is the quest of the sangreal less worthy of his acquaintance? or if an allusion to the shield of achilles ought not to pass unapprehended, why should one to excalibar, the famous sword of arthur?-- "of arthur, who, to upper light restored, with that terrific sword, which yet he brandishes for future war, shall lift his country's fame above the polar star." [footnote: wordsworth] it is an additional recommendation of our subject, that it tends to cherish in our minds the idea of the source from which we sprung. we are entitled to our full share in the glories and recollections of the land of our forefathers, down to the time of colonization thence. the associations which spring from this source must be fruitful of good influences; among which not the least valuable is the increased enjoyment which such associations afford to the american traveller when he visits england, and sets his foot upon any of her renowned localities. the legends of charlemagne and his peers are necessary to complete the subject. in an age when intellectual darkness enveloped western europe, a constellation of brilliant writers arose in italy. of these, pulci (born in ), boiardo ( ), and ariosto ( ) took for their subjects the romantic fables which had for many ages been transmitted in the lays of bards and the legends of monkish chroniclers. these fables they arranged in order, adorned with the embellishments of fancy, amplified from their own invention, and stamped with immortality. it may safely be asserted that as long as civilization shall endure these productions will retain their place among the most cherished creations of human genius. in "stories of gods and heroes," "king arthur and his knights" and "the mabinogeon" the aim has been to supply to the modern reader such knowledge of the fables of classical and mediaeval literature as is needed to render intelligible the allusions which occur in reading and conversation. the "legends of charlemagne" is intended to carry out the same design. like the earlier portions of the work, it aspires to a higher character than that of a piece of mere amusement. it claims to be useful, in acquainting its readers with the subjects of the productions of the great poets of italy. some knowledge of these is expected of every well-educated young person. in reading these romances, we cannot fail to observe how the primitive inventions have been used, again and again, by successive generations of fabulists. the siren of ulysses is the prototype of the siren of orlando, and the character of circe reappears in alcina. the fountains of love and hatred may be traced to the story of cupid and psyche; and similar effects produced by a magic draught appear in the tale of tristram and isoude, and, substituting a flower for the draught, in shakspeare's "midsummer night's dream." there are many other instances of the same kind which the reader will recognize without our assistance. the sources whence we derive these stories are, first, the italian poets named above; next, the "romans de chevalerie" of the comte de tressan; lastly, certain german collections of popular tales. some chapters have been borrowed from leigh hunt's translations from the italian poets. it seemed unnecessary to do over again what he had already done so well; yet, on the other hand, those stories could not be omitted from the series without leaving it incomplete. thomas bulfinch. contents stories of gods and heroes i. introduction ii. prometheus and pandora iii. apollo and daphne--pyramus and thisbe--cephalus and procris iv. juno and her rivals, io and callisto--diana and actaeon --latona and the rustics v. phaeton vi. midas--baucis and philemon vii. proserpine--glaucus and scylla viii. pygmalion--dryope--venus and adonis--apollo and hyacinthus ix. ceyx and halcyone x. vertumnus and pomona--iphis and anaxarete xi. cupid and psyche xii. cadmus--the myrmidons xiii. nisus and scylla--echo and narcissus--clytie--hero and leander xiv. minerva and arachne--niobe xv. the graeae and gorgons--perseus and medusa--atlas--andromeda xvi. monsters: giants--sphinx--pegasus and chimaera--centaurs --griffin--pygmies xvii. the golden fleece--medea xviii. meleager and atalanta xix. hercules--hebe and ganymede xx. theseus and daedalus--castor and pollux--festivals and games xxi. bacchus and ariadne xxii. the rural deities--the dryads and erisichthon --rhoecus--water deities--camenae--winds xxiii. achelous and hercules--admetus and alcestis--antigone--penelope xxiv. orpheus and eurydice--aristaeus--amphion--linus --thamyris--marsyas--melampus--musaeus xxv. arion--ibycus--simonides--sappho xxvi. endymion--orion--aurora and tithonus--acis and galatea xxvii. the trojan war xxviii. the fall of troy--return of the greeks--orestes and electra xxix. adventures of ulysses--the lotus-eaters--the cyclopes --circe--sirens--scylla and charybdis--calypso xxx. the phaeacians--fate of the suitors xxxi. adventures of aeneas--the harpies--dido--palinurus xxxii. the infernal regions--the sibyl xxxiii. aeneas in italy--camilla--evander--nisus and euryalus --mezentius--turnus xxxiv. pythagoras--egyptian deities--oracles xxxv. origin of mythology--statues of gods and goddesses --poets of mythology xxxvi. monsters (modern)--the phoenix--basilisk--unicorn--salamander xxxvii. eastern mythology--zoroaster--hindu mythology--castes--buddha --the grand lama--prester john xxxviii. northern mythology--valhalla--the valkyrior xxxix. thor's visit to jotunheim xl. the death of baldur--the elves--runic letters--skalds--iceland --teutonic mythology--the nibelungen lied --wagner's nibelungen ring xli. the druids--iona king arthur and his knights i. introduction ii. the mythical history of england iii. merlin iv. arthur v. arthur (continued) vi. sir gawain vii. caradoc briefbras; or, caradoc with the shrunken arm viii. launcelot of the lake ix. the adventure of the cart x. the lady of shalott xi. queen guenever's peril xii. tristram and isoude xiii. tristram and isoude (continued) xiv. sir tristram's battle with sir launcelot xv. the round table xvi. sir palamedes xvii. sir tristram xviii. perceval xix. the sangreal, or holy graal xx. the sangreal (continued) xxi. the sangreal (continued) xxii. sir agrivain's treason xxiii. morte d'arthur the mabinogeon introductory note i. the britons ii. the lady of the fountain iii. the lady of the fountain (continued) iv. the lady of the fountain (continued) v. geraint, the son of erbin vi. geraint, the son of erbin (continued) vii. geraint, the son of erbin (continued) viii. pwyll, prince of dyved ix. branwen, the daughter of llyr x. manawyddan xi. kilwich and olwen xii. kilwich and olwen (continued) xiii. taliesin hero myths of the british race beowulf cuchulain, champion of ireland hereward the wake robin hood legends of charlemagne introduction the peers, or paladins the tournament the siege of albracca adventures of rinaldo and orlando the invasion of france the invasion of france (continued) bradamante and rogero astolpho and the enchantress the orc astolpho's adventures continued, and isabella's begun. medoro orlando mad zerbino and isabella astolpho in abyssinia the war in africa rogero and bradamante the battle of roncesvalles rinaldo and bayard death of rinaldo huon of bordeaux huon of bordeaux (continued) huon of bordeaux (continued) ogier, the dane ogier, the dane (continued) ogier, the dane (continued) glossary stories of gods and heroes chapter i introduction the religions of ancient greece and rome are extinct. the so- called divinities of olympus have not a single worshipper among living men. they belong now not to the department of theology, but to those of literature and taste. there they still hold their place, and will continue to hold it, for they are too closely connected with the finest productions of poetry and art, both ancient and modern, to pass into oblivion. we propose to tell the stories relating to them which have come down to us from the ancients, and which are alluded to by modern poets, essayists, and orators. our readers may thus at the same time be entertained by the most charming fictions which fancy has ever created, and put in possession of information indispensable to every one who would read with intelligence the elegant literature of his own day. in order to understand these stories, it will be necessary to acquaint ourselves with the ideas of the structure of the universe which prevailed among the greeks--the people from whom the romans, and other nations through them, received their science and religion. the greeks believed the earth to be flat and circular, their own country occupying the middle of it, the central point being either mount olympus, the abode of the gods, or delphi, so famous for its oracle. the circular disk of the earth was crossed from west to east and divided into two equal parts by the sea, as they called the mediterranean, and its continuation the euxine, the only seas with which they were acquainted. around the earth flowed the river ocean, its course being from south to north on the western side of the earth, and in a contrary direction on the eastern side. it flowed in a steady, equable current, unvexed by storm or tempest. the sea, and all the rivers on earth, received their waters from it. the northern portion of the earth was supposed to be inhabited by a happy race named the hyperboreans, dwelling in everlasting bliss and spring beyond the lofty mountains whose caverns were supposed to send forth the piercing blasts of the north wind, which chilled the people of hellas (greece). their country was inaccessible by land or sea. they lived exempt from disease or old age, from toils and warfare. moore has given us the "song of a hyperborean," beginning "i come from a land in the sun-bright deep, where golden gardens glow, where the winds of the north, becalmed in sleep, their conch shells never blow." on the south side of the earth, close to the stream of ocean, dwelt a people happy and virtuous as the hyperboreans. they were named the aethiopians. the gods favored them so highly that they were wont to leave at times their olympian abodes and go to share their sacrifices and banquets. on the western margin of the earth, by the stream of ocean, lay a happy place named the elysian plain, whither mortals favored by the gods were transported without tasting of death, to enjoy an immortality of bliss. this happy region was also called the "fortunate fields," and the "isles of the blessed." we thus see that the greeks of the early ages knew little of any real people except those to the east and south of their own country, or near the coast of the mediterranean. their imagination meantime peopled the western portion of this sea with giants, monsters, and enchantresses; while they placed around the disk of the earth, which they probably regarded as of no great width, nations enjoying the peculiar favor of the gods, and blessed with happiness and longevity. the dawn, the sun, and the moon were supposed to rise out of the ocean, on the eastern side, and to drive through the air, giving light to gods and men. the stars, also, except those forming the wain or bear, and others near them, rose out of and sank into the stream of ocean. there the sun-god embarked in a winged boat, which conveyed him round by the northern part of the earth, back to his place of rising in the east. milton alludes to this in his "comus": "now the gilded car of day his golden axle doth allay in the steep atlantic stream, and the slope sun his upward beam shoots against the dusky pole, pacing towards the other goal of his chamber in the east" the abode of the gods was on the summit of mount olympus, in thessaly. a gate of clouds, kept by the goddesses named the seasons, opened to permit the passage of the celestials to earth, and to receive them on their return. the gods had their separate dwellings; but all, when summoned, repaired to the palace of jupiter, as did also those deities whose usual abode was the earth, the waters, or the underworld. it was also in the great hall of the palace of the olympian king that the gods feasted each day on ambrosia and nectar, their food and drink, the latter being handed round by the lovely goddess hebe. here they conversed of the affairs of heaven and earth; and as they quaffed their nectar, apollo, the god of music, delighted them with the tones of his lyre, to which the muses sang in responsive strains. when the sun was set, the gods retired to sleep in their respective dwellings. the following lines from the "odyssey" will show how homer conceived of olympus: "so saying, minerva, goddess azure-eyed, rose to olympus, the reputed seat eternal of the gods, which never storms disturb, rains drench, or snow invades, but calm the expanse and cloudless shmes with purest day. there the inhabitants divine rejoice forever"--cowper. the robes and other parts of the dress of the goddesses were woven by minerva and the graces and everything of a more solid nature was formed of the various metals. vulcan was architect, smith, armorer, chariot builder, and artist of all work in olympus. he built of brass the houses of the gods; he made for them the golden shoes with which they trod the air or the water, and moved from place to place with the speed of the wind, or even of thought. he also shod with brass the celestial steeds, which whirled the chariots of the gods through the air, or along the surface of the sea. he was able to bestow on his workmanship self-motion, so that the tripods (chairs and tables) could move of themselves in and out of the celestial hall. he even endowed with intelligence the golden handmaidens whom he made to wait on himself. jupiter, or jove (zeus [footnote: the names included in parentheses are the greek, the others being the roman or latin names] ), though called the father of gods and men, had himself a beginning. saturn (cronos) was his father, and rhea (ops) his mother. saturn and rhea were of the race of titans, who were the children of earth and heaven, which sprang from chaos, of which we shall give a further account in our next chapter. there is another cosmogony, or account of the creation, according to which earth, erebus, and love were the first of beings. love (eros) issued from the egg of night, which floated on chaos. by his arrows and torch he pierced and vivified all things, producing life and joy. saturn and rhea were not the only titans. there were others, whose names were oceanus, hyperion, iapetus, and ophion, males; and themis, mnemosyne, eurynome, females. they are spoken of as the elder gods, whose dominion was afterwards transferred to others. saturn yielded to jupiter, oceanus to neptune, hyperion to apollo. hyperion was the father of the sun, moon, and dawn. he is therefore the original sun-god, and is painted with the splendor and beauty which were afterwards bestowed on apollo. "hyperion's curls, the front of jove himself" --shakspeare. ophion and eurynome ruled over olympus till they were dethroned by saturn and rhea. milton alludes to them in "paradise lost." he says the heathens seem to have had some knowledge of the temptation and fall of man. "and fabled how the serpent, whom they called ophion, with eurynome, (the wide- encroaching eve perhaps,) had first the rule of high olympus, thence by saturn driven." the representations given of saturn are not very consistent; for on the one hand his reign is said to have been the golden age of innocence and purity, and on the other he is described as a monster who devoured his children. [footnote: this inconsistency arises from considering the saturn of the romans the same with the grecian deity cronos (time), which, as it brings an end to all things which have had a beginning, may be said to devour its own offspring] jupiter, however, escaped this fate, and when grown up espoused metis (prudence), who administered a draught to saturn which caused him to disgorge his children. jupiter, with his brothers and sisters, now rebelled against their father saturn and his brothers the titans; vanquished them, and imprisoned some of them in tartarus, inflicting other penalties on others. atlas was condemned to bear up the heavens on his shoulders. on the dethronement of saturn, jupiter with his brothers neptune (poseidon) and pluto (dis) divided his dominions. jupiter's portion was the heavens, neptune's the ocean, and pluto's the realms of the dead. earth and olympus were common property. jupiter was king of gods and men. the thunder was his weapon, and he bore a shield called aegis, made for him by vulcan. the eagle was his favorite bird, and bore his thunderbolts. juno (hera) was the wife of jupiter, and queen of the gods. iris, the goddess of the rainbow, was her attendant and messenger. the peacock was her favorite bird. vulcan (hephaestos), the celestial artist, was the son of jupiter and juno. he was born lame, and his mother was so displeased at the sight of him that she flung him out of heaven. other accounts say that jupiter kicked him out for taking part with his mother in a quarrel which occurred between them. vulcan's lameness, according to this account, was the consequence of his fall. he was a whole day falling, and at last alighted in the island of lemnos, which was thenceforth sacred to him. milton alludes to this story in "paradise lost," book i.: "... from morn to noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, a summer's day; and with the setting sun dropped from the zenith, like a falling star, on lemnos, the aegean isle." mars (ares), the god of war, was the son of jupiter and juno. phoebus apollo, the god of archery, prophecy, and music, was the son of jupiter and latona, and brother of diana (artemis). he was god of the sun, as diana, his sister, was the goddess of the moon. venus (aphrodite), the goddess of love and beauty, was the daughter of jupiter and dione. others say that venus sprang from the foam of the sea. the zephyr wafted her along the waves to the isle of cyprus, where she was received and attired by the seasons, and then led to the assembly of the gods. all were charmed with her beauty, and each one demanded her for his wife. jupiter gave her to vulcan, in gratitude for the service he had rendered in forging thunderbolts. so the most beautiful of the goddesses became the wife of the most ill-favored of gods. venus possessed an embroidered girdle called cestus, which had the power of inspiring love. her favorite birds were swans and doves, and the plants sacred to her were the rose and the myrtle. cupid (eros), the god of love, was the son of venus. he was her constant companion; and, armed with bow and arrows, he shot the darts of desire into the bosoms of both gods and men. there was a deity named anteros, who was sometimes represented as the avenger of slighted love, and sometimes as the symbol of reciprocal affection. the following legend is told of him: venus, complaining to themis that her son eros continued always a child, was told by her that it was because he was solitary, and that if he had a brother he would grow apace. anteros was soon afterwards born, and eros immediately was seen to increase rapidly in size and strength. minerva (pallas, athene), the goddess of wisdom, was the offspring of jupiter, without a mother. she sprang forth from his head completely armed. her favorite bird was the owl, and the plant sacred to her the olive. byron, in "childe harold," alludes to the birth of minerva thus: "can tyrants but by tyrants conquered be, and freedom find no champion and no child, such as columbia saw arise, when she sprang forth a pallas, armed and undefiled? or must such minds be nourished in the wild, deep in the unpruned forest,'midst the roar of cataracts, where nursing nature smiled on infant washington? has earth no more such seeds within her breast, or europe no such shore?" mercury (hermes) was the son of jupiter and maia. he presided over commerce, wrestling, and other gymnastic exercises, even over thieving, and everything, in short, which required skill and dexterity. he was the messenger of jupiter, and wore a winged cap and winged shoes. he bore in his hand a rod entwined with two serpents, called the caduceus. mercury is said to have invented the lyre. he found, one day, a tortoise, of which he took the shell, made holes in the opposite edges of it, and drew cords of linen through them, and the instrument was complete. the cords were nine, in honor of the nine muses. mercury gave the lyre to apollo, and received from him in exchange the caduceus. [footnote: from this origin of the instrument, the word "shell" is often used as synonymous with "lyre," and figuratively for music and poetry. thus gray, in his ode on the "progress of poesy," says: "o sovereign of the willing soul, parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, enchanting shell! the sullen cares and frantic passions hear thy soft control."] ceres (demeter) was the daughter of saturn and rhea. she had a daughter named proserpine (persephone), who became the wife of pluto, and queen of the realms of the dead. ceres presided over agriculture. bacchus (dionysus), the god of wine, was the son of jupiter and semele. he represents not only the intoxicating power of wine, but its social and beneficent influences likewise, so that he is viewed as the promoter of civilization, and a lawgiver and lover of peace. the muses were the daughters of jupiter and mnemosyne (memory). they presided over song, and prompted the memory. they were nine in number, to each of whom was assigned the presidence over some particular department of literature, art, or science. calliope was the muse of epic poetry, clio of history, euterpe of lyric poetry, melpomene of tragedy, terpsichore of choral dance and song, erato of love poetry, polyhymnia of sacred poetry, urania of astronomy, thalia of comedy. the graces were goddesses presiding over the banquet, the dance, and all social enjoyments and elegant arts. they were three in number. their names were euphrosyne, aglaia, and thalia. spenser describes the office of the graces thus: "these three on men all gracious gifts bestow which deck the body or adorn the mind, to make them lovely or well-favored show; as comely carriage, entertainment kind, sweet semblance, friendly offices that bind, and all the complements of courtesy; they teach us how to each degree and kind we should ourselves demean, to low, to high, to friends, to foes; which skill men call civility." the fates were also three--clotho, lachesis, and atropos. their office was to spin the thread of human destiny, and they were armed with shears, with which they cut it off when they pleased. they were the daughters of themis (law), who sits by jove on his throne to give him counsel. the erinnyes, or furies, were three goddesses who punished by their secret stings the crimes of those who escaped or defied public justice. the heads of the furies were wreathed with serpents, and their whole appearance was terrific and appalling. their names were alecto, tisiphone, and megaera. they were also called eumenides. nemesis was also an avenging goddess. she represents the righteous anger of the gods, particularly towards the proud and insolent. pan was the god of flocks and shepherds. his favorite residence was in arcadia. the satyrs were deities of the woods and fields. they were conceived to be covered with bristly hair, their heads decorated with short, sprouting horns, and their feet like goats' feet. momus was the god of laughter, and plutus the god of wealth. roman divinities the preceding are grecian divinities, though received also by the romans. those which follow are peculiar to roman mythology: saturn was an ancient italian deity. it was attempted to identify him with the grecian god cronos, and fabled that after his dethronement by jupiter he fled to italy, where he reigned during what was called the golden age. in memory of his beneficent dominion, the feast of saturnalia was held every year in the winter season. then all public business was suspended, declarations of war and criminal executions were postponed, friends made presents to one another and the slaves were indulged with great liberties. a feast was given them at which they sat at table, while their masters served them, to show the natural equality of men, and that all things belonged equally to all, in the reign of saturn. faunus, [footnote: there was also a goddess called fauna, or bona dea.] the grandson of saturn, was worshipped as the god of fields and shepherds, and also as a prophetic god. his name in the plural, fauns, expressed a class of gamesome deities, like the satyrs of the greeks. quirinus was a war god, said to be no other than romulus, the founder of rome, exalted after his death to a place among the gods. bellona, a war goddess. terminus, the god of landmarks. his statue was a rude stone or post, set in the ground to mark the boundaries of fields. pales, the goddess presiding over cattle and pastures. pomona presided over fruit trees. flora, the goddess of flowers. lucina, the goddess of childbirth. vesta (the hestia of the greeks) was a deity presiding over the public and private hearth. a sacred fire, tended by six virgin priestesses called vestals, flamed in her temple. as the safety of the city was held to be connected with its conservation, the neglect of the virgins, if they let it go out, was severely punished, and the fire was rekindled from the rays of the sun. liber is the latin name of bacchus; and mulciber of vulcan. janus was the porter of heaven. he opens the year, the first month being named after him. he is the guardian deity of gates, on which account he is commonly represented with two heads, because every door looks two ways. his temples at rome were numerous. in war time the gates of the principal one were always open. in peace they were closed; but they were shut only once between the reign of numa and that of augustus. the penates were the gods who were supposed to attend to the welfare and prosperity of the family. their name is derived from penus, the pantry, which was sacred to them. every master of a family was the priest to the penates of his own house. the lares, or lars, were also household gods, but differed from the penates in being regarded as the deified spirits of mortals. the family lars were held to be the souls of the ancestors, who watched over and protected their descendants. the words lemur and larva more nearly correspond to our word ghost. the romans believed that every man had his genius, and every woman her juno: that is, a spirit who had given them being, and was regarded as their protector through life. on their birthdays men made offerings to their genius, women to their juno. a modern poet thus alludes to some of the roman gods: "pomona loves the orchard, and liber loves the vine, and pales loves the straw-built shed warm with the breath of kine; and venus loves the whisper of plighted youth and maid, in april's ivory moonlight, beneath the chestnut shade." --macaulay, "prophecy of capys." n.b.--it is to be observed that in proper names the final e and es are to be sounded. thus cybele and penates are words of three syllables. but proserpine and thebes are exceptions, and to be pronounced as english words. in the index at the close of the volume we shall mark the accented syllable in all words which appear to require it. chapter ii prometheus and pandora the creation of the world is a problem naturally fitted to excite the liveliest interest of man, its inhabitant. the ancient pagans, not having the information on the subject which we derive from the pages of scripture, had their own way of telling the story, which is as follows: before earth and sea and heaven were created, all things wore one aspect, to which we give the name of chaos--a confused and shapeless mass, nothing but dead weight, in which, however, slumbered the seeds of things. earth, sea, and air were all mixed up together; so the earth was not solid, the sea was not fluid, and the air was not transparent. god and nature at last interposed, and put an end to this discord, separating earth from sea, and heaven from both. the fiery part, being the lightest, sprang up, and formed the skies; the air was next in weight and place. the earth, being heavier, sank below; and the water took the lowest place, and buoyed up the earth. here some god--it is not known which--gave his good offices in arranging and disposing the earth. he appointed rivers and bays their places, raised mountains, scooped out valleys, distributed woods, fountains, fertile fields, and stony plains. the air being cleared, the stars began to appear, fishes took possession of the sea, birds of the air, and four-footed beasts of the land. but a nobler animal was wanted, and man was made. it is not known whether the creator made him of divine materials, or whether in the earth, so lately separated from heaven, there lurked still some heavenly seeds. prometheus took some of this earth, and kneading it up with water, made man in the image of the gods. he gave him an upright stature, so that while all other animals turn their faces downward, and look to the earth, he raises his to heaven, and gazes on the stars. prometheus was one of the titans, a gigantic race, who inhabited the earth before the creation of man. to him and his brother epimetheus was committed the office of making man, and providing him and all other animals with the faculties necessary for their preservation. epimetheus undertook to do this, and prometheus was to overlook his work, when it was done. epimetheus accordingly proceeded to bestow upon the different animals the various gifts of courage, strength, swiftness, sagacity; wings to one, claws to another, a shelly covering to a third, etc. but when man came to be provided for, who was to be superior to all other animals, epimetheus had been so prodigal of his resources that he had nothing left to bestow upon him. in his perplexity he resorted to his brother prometheus, who, with the aid of minerva, went up to heaven, and lighted his torch at the chariot of the sun, and brought down fire to man. with this gift man was more than a match for all other animals. it enabled him to make weapons wherewith to subdue them; tools with which to cultivate the earth; to warm his dwelling, so as to be comparatively independent of climate; and finally to introduce the arts and to coin money, the means of trade and commerce. woman was not yet made. the story (absurd enough!) is that jupiter made her, and sent her to prometheus and his brother, to punish them for their presumption in stealing fire from heaven; and man, for accepting the gift. the first woman was named pandora. she was made in heaven, every god contributing something to perfect her. venus gave her beauty, mercury persuasion, apollo music, etc. thus equipped, she was conveyed to earth, and presented to epimetheus, who gladly accepted her, though cautioned by his brother to beware of jupiter and his gifts. epimetheus had in his house a jar, in which were kept certain noxious articles, for which, in fitting man for his new abode, he had had no occasion. pandora was seized with an eager curiosity to know what this jar contained; and one day she slipped off the cover and looked in. forthwith there escaped a multitude of plagues for hapless man,--such as gout, rheumatism, and colic for his body, and envy, spite, and revenge for his mind,--and scattered themselves far and wide. pandora hastened to replace the lid! but, alas! the whole contents of the jar had escaped, one thing only excepted, which lay at the bottom, and that was hope. so we see at this day, whatever evils are abroad, hope never entirely leaves us; and while we have that, no amount of other ills can make us completely wretched. another story is that pandora was sent in good faith, by jupiter, to bless man; that she was furnished with a box, containing her marriage presents, into which every god had put some blessing. she opened the box incautiously, and the blessings all escaped, hope only excepted. this story seems more probable than the former; for how could hope, so precious a jewel as it is, have been kept in a jar full of all manner of evils, as in the former statement? the world being thus furnished with inhabitants, the first age was an age of innocence and happiness, called the golden age. truth and right prevailed, though not enforced by law, nor was there any magistrate to threaten or punish. the forest had not yet been robbed of its trees to furnish timbers for vessels, nor had men built fortifications round their towns. there were no such things as swords, spears, or helmets. the earth brought forth all things necessary for man, without his labor in ploughing or sowing. perpetual spring reigned, flowers sprang up without seed, the rivers flowed with milk and wine, and yellow honey distilled from the oaks. then succeeded the silver age, inferior to the golden, but better than that of brass. jupiter shortened the spring, and divided the year into seasons. then, first, men had to endure the extremes of heat and cold, and houses became necessary. caves were the first dwellings, and leafy coverts of the woods, and huts woven of twigs. crops would no longer grow without planting. the farmer was obliged to sow the seed and the toiling ox to draw the plough. next came the brazen age, more savage of temper, and readier to the strife of arms, yet not altogether wicked. the hardest and worst was the iron age. crime burst in like a flood; modesty, truth, and honor fled. in their places came fraud and cunning, violence, and the wicked love of gain. then seamen spread sails to the wind, and the trees were torn from the mountains to serve for keels to ships, and vex the face of ocean. the earth, which till now had been cultivated in common, began to be divided off into possessions. men were not satisfied with what the surface produced, but must dig into its bowels, and draw forth from thence the ores of metals. mischievous iron, and more mischievous gold, were produced. war sprang up, using both as weapons; the guest was not safe in his friend's house; and sons-in-law and fathers-in- law, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, could not trust one another. sons wished their fathers dead, that they might come to the inheritance; family love lay prostrate. the earth was wet with slaughter, and the gods abandoned it, one by one, till astraea alone was left, and finally she also took her departure. [footnote: the goddess of innocence and purity. after leaving earth, she was placed among the stars, where she became the constellation virgo--the virgin. themis (justice) was the mother of astraea. she is represented as holding aloft a pair of scales, in which she weighs the claims of opposing parties. it was a favorite idea of the old poets that these goddesses would one day return, and bring back the golden age. even in a christian hymn, the "messiah" of pope, this idea occurs: "all crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail, returning justice lift aloft her scale, peace o'er the world her olive wand extend, and white-robed innocence from heaven descend." see, also, milton's "hymn on the nativity," stanzas xiv. and xv.] jupiter, seeing this state of things, burned with anger. he summoned the gods to council. they obeyed the call, and took the road to the palace of heaven. the road, which any one may see in a clear night, stretches across the face of the sky, and is called the milky way. along the road stand the palaces of the illustrious gods; the common people of the skies live apart, on either side. jupiter addressed the assembly. he set forth the frightful condition of things on the earth, and closed by announcing his intention to destroy the whole of its inhabitants, and provide a new race, unlike the first, who would be more worthy of life, and much better worshippers of the gods. so saying he took a thunderbolt, and was about to launch it at the world, and destroy it by burning; but recollecting the danger that such a conflagration might set heaven itself on fire, he changed his plan, and resolved to drown it. the north wind, which scatters the clouds, was chained up; the south was sent out, and soon covered all the face of heaven with a cloak of pitchy darkness. the clouds, driven together, resound with a crash; torrents of rain fall; the crops are laid low; the year's labor of the husbandman perishes in an hour. jupiter, not satisfied with his own waters, calls on his brother neptune to aid him with his. he lets loose the rivers, and pours them over the land. at the same time, he heaves the land with an earthquake, and brings in the reflux of the ocean over the shores. flocks, herds, men, and houses are swept away, and temples, with their sacred enclosures, profaned. if any edifice remained standing, it was overwhelmed, and its turrets lay hid beneath the waves. now all was sea, sea without shore. here and there an individual remained on a projecting hilltop, and a few, in boats, pulled the oar where they had lately driven the plough. the fishes swim among the tree-tops; the anchor is let down into a garden. where the graceful lambs played but now, unwieldy sea calves gambol. the wolf swims among the sheep, the yellow lions and tigers struggle in the water. the strength of the wild boar serves him not, nor his swiftness the stag. the birds fall with weary wing into the water, having found no land for a resting-place. those living beings whom the water spared fell a prey to hunger. parnassus alone, of all the mountains, overtopped the waves; and there deucalion, and his wife pyrrha, of the race of prometheus, found refuge--he a just man, and she a faithful worshipper of the gods. jupiter, when he saw none left alive but this pair, and remembered their harmless lives and pious demeanor, ordered the north winds to drive away the clouds, and disclose the skies to earth, and earth to the skies. neptune also directed triton to blow on his shell, and sound a retreat to the waters. the waters obeyed, and the sea returned to its shores, and the rivers to their channels. then deucalion thus addressed pyrrha: "o wife, only surviving woman, joined to me first by the ties of kindred and marriage, and now by a common danger, would that we possessed the power of our ancestor prometheus, and could renew the race as he at first made it! but as we cannot, let us seek yonder temple, and inquire of the gods what remains for us to do." they entered the temple, deformed as it was with slime, and approached the altar, where no fire burned. there they fell prostrate on the earth, and prayed the goddess to inform them how they might retrieve their miserable affairs. the oracle answered, "depart from the temple with head veiled and garments unbound, and cast behind you the bones of your mother." they heard the words with astonishment. pyrrha first broke silence: "we cannot obey; we dare not profane the remains of our parents." they sought the thickest shades of the wood, and revolved the oracle in their minds. at length deucalion spoke: "either my sagacity deceives me, or the command is one we may obey without impiety. the earth is the great parent of all; the stones are her bones; these we may cast behind us; and i think this is what the oracle means. at least, it will do no harm to try." they veiled their faces, unbound their garments, and picked up stones, and cast them behind them. the stones (wonderful to relate) began to grow soft, and assume shape. by degrees, they put on a rude resemblance to the human form, like a block half-finished in the hands of the sculptor. the moisture and slime that were about them became flesh; the stony part became bones; the veins remained veins, retaining their name, only changing their use. those thrown by the hand of the man became men, and those by the woman became women. it was a hard race, and well adapted to labor, as we find ourselves to be at this day, giving plain indications of our origin. the comparison of eve to pandora is too obvious to have escaped milton, who introduces it in book iv. of "paradise lost": "more lovely than pandora, whom the gods endowed with all their gifts; and o, too like in sad event, when to the unwiser son of japhet brought by hermes, she insnared mankind with her fair looks, to be avenged on him who had stole jove's authentic fire." prometheus and epimetheus were sons of iapetus, which milton changes to japhet. prometheus has been a favorite subject with the poets. he is represented as the friend of mankind, who interposed in their behalf when jove was incensed against them, and who taught them civilization and the arts. but as, in so doing, he transgressed the will of jupiter, he drew down on himself the anger of the ruler of gods and men. jupiter had him chained to a rock on mount caucasus, where a vulture preyed on his liver, which was renewed as fast as devoured. this state of torment might have been brought to an end at any time by prometheus, if he had been willing to submit to his oppressor; for he possessed a secret which involved the stability of jove's throne, and if he would have revealed it, he might have been at once taken into favor. but that he disdained to do. he has therefore become the symbol of magnanimous endurance of unmerited suffering, and strength of will resisting oppression. byron and shelley have both treated this theme. the following are byron's lines: "titan! to whose immortal eyes the sufferings of mortality, seen in their sad reality, were not as things that gods despise; what was thy pity's recompense? a silent suffering, and intense; the rock, the vulture, and the chain; all that the proud can feel of pain; the agony they do not show; the suffocating sense of woe. "thy godlike crime was to be kind; to render with thy precepts less the sum of human wretchedness, and strengthen man with his own mind. and, baffled as thou wert from high, still, in thy patient energy in the endurance and repulse of thine impenetrable spirit, which earth and heaven could not convulse, a mighty lesson we inherit." byron also employs the same allusion, in his "ode to napoleon bonaparte": "or, like the thief of fire from heaven, wilt thou withstand the shock? and share with him--the unforgiven-- his vulture and his rock?" chapter iii apollo and daphne--pyramus and thisbe cephalus and procris the slime with which the earth was covered by the waters of the flood produced an excessive fertility, which called forth every variety of production, both bad and good. among the rest, python, an enormous serpent, crept forth, the terror of the people, and lurked in the caves of mount parnassus. apollo slew him with his arrows--weapons which he had not before used against any but feeble animals, hares, wild goats, and such game. in commemoration of this illustrious conquest he instituted the pythian games, in which the victor in feats of strength, swiftness of foot, or in the chariot race was crowned with a wreath of beech leaves; for the laurel was not yet adopted by apollo as his own tree. the famous statue of apollo called the belvedere represents the god after this victory over the serpent python. to this byron alludes in his "childe harold," iv., : "... the lord of the unerring bow, the god of life, and poetry, and light, the sun, in human limbs arrayed, and brow all radiant from his triumph in the fight the shaft has just been shot; the arrow bright with an immortal's vengeance; in his eye and nostril, beautiful disdain, and might and majesty flash their full lightnings by, developing in that one glance the deity." apollo and daphne daphne was apollo's first love. it was not brought about by accident, but by the malice of cupid. apollo saw the boy playing with his bow and arrows; and being himself elated with his recent victory over python, he said to him, "what have you to do with warlike weapons, saucy boy? leave them for hands worthy of them. behold the conquest i have won by means of them over the vast serpent who stretched his poisonous body over acres of the plain! be content with your torch, child, and kindle up your flames, as you call them, where you will, but presume not to meddle with my weapons." venus's boy heard these words, and rejoined, "your arrows may strike all things else, apollo, but mine shall strike you." so saying, he took his stand on a rock of parnassus, and drew from his quiver two arrows of different workmanship, one to excite love, the other to repel it. the former was of gold and sharp pointed, the latter blunt and tipped with lead. with the leaden shaft he struck the nymph daphne, the daughter of the river god peneus, and with the golden one apollo, through the heart. forthwith the god was seized with love for the maiden, and she abhorred the thought of loving. her delight was in woodland sports and in the spoils of the chase. many lovers sought her, but she spurned them all, ranging the woods, and taking no thought of cupid nor of hymen. her father often said to her, "daughter, you owe me a son-in-law; you owe me grandchildren." she, hating the thought of marriage as a crime, with her beautiful face tinged all over with blushes, threw arms around her father's neck, and said, "dearest father, grant me this favor, that i may always remain unmarried, like diana." he consented, but at the same time said, "your own face will forbid it." apollo loved her, and longed to obtain her; and he who gives oracles to all the world was not wise enough to look into his own fortunes. he saw her hair flung loose over her shoulders, and said, "if so charming in disorder, what would it be if arranged?" he saw her eyes bright as stars; he saw her lips, and was not satisfied with only seeing them. he admired her hands and arms, naked to the shoulder, and whatever was hidden from view he imagined more beautiful still. he followed her; she fled, swifter than the wind, and delayed not a moment at his entreaties. "stay," said he, "daughter of peneus; i am not a foe. do not fly me as a lamb flies the wolf, or a dove the hawk. it is for love i pursue you. you make me miserable, for fear you should fall and hurt yourself on these stones, and i should be the cause. pray run slower, and i will follow slower. i am no clown, no rude peasant. jupiter is my father, and i am lord of delphos and tenedos, and know all things, present and future. i am the god of song and the lyre. my arrows fly true to the mark; but, alas! an arrow more fatal than mine has pierced my heart! i am the god of medicine, and know the virtues of all healing plants. alas! i suffer a malady that no balm can cure!" the nymph continued her flight, and left his plea half uttered. and even as she fled she charmed him. the wind blew her garments, and her unbound hair streamed loose behind her. the god grew impatient to find his wooings thrown away, and, sped by cupid, gained upon her in the race. it was like a hound pursuing a hare, with open jaws ready to seize, while the feebler animal darts forward, slipping from the very grasp. so flew the god and the virgin--he on the wings of love, and she on those of fear. the pursuer is the more rapid, however, and gains upon her, and his panting breath blows upon her hair. her strength begins to fail, and, ready to sink, she calls upon her father, the river god: "help me, peneus! open the earth to enclose me, or change my form, which has brought me into this danger!" scarcely had she spoken, when a stiffness seized all her limbs; her bosom began to be enclosed in a tender bark; her hair became leaves; her arms became branches; her foot stuck fast in the ground, as a root; her face, became a tree-top, retaining nothing of its former self but its beauty. apollo stood amazed. he touched the stem, and felt the flesh tremble under the new bark. he embraced the branches, and lavished kisses on the wood. the branches shrank from his lips. "since you cannot be my wife," said he, "you shall assuredly be my tree. i will wear you for my crown; i will decorate with you my harp and my quiver; and when the great roman conquerors lead up the triumphal pomp to the capitol, you shall be woven into wreaths for their brows. and, as eternal youth is mine, you also shall be always green, and your leaf know no decay." the nymph, now changed into a laurel tree, bowed its head in grateful acknowledgment. that apollo should be the god both of music and poetry will not appear strange, but that medicine should also be assigned to his province, may. the poet armstrong, himself a physician, thus accounts for it: "music exalts each joy, allays each grief, expels diseases, softens every pain; and hence the wise of ancient days adored one power of physic, melody, and song." the story of apollo and daphne is often alluded to by the poets. waller applies it to the case of one whose amatory verses, though they did not soften the heart of his mistress, yet won for the poet wide-spread fame: "yet what he sung in his immortal strain, though unsuccessful, was not sung in vain. all but the nymph that should redress his wrong, attend his passion and approve his song. like phoebus thus, acquiring unsought praise, he caught at love and filled his arms with bays." the following stanza from shelley's "adonais" alludes to byron's early quarrel with the reviewers: "the herded wolves, bold only to pursue; the obscene ravens, clamorous o'er the dead; the vultures, to the conqueror's banner true, who feed where desolation first has fed, and whose wings rain contagion: how they fled, when like apollo, from his golden bow, the pythian of the age one arrow sped and smiled! the spoilers tempt no second blow; they fawn on the proud feet that spurn them as they go." pyramus and thisbe pyramus was the handsomest youth, and thisbe the fairest maiden, in all babylonia, where semiramis reigned. their parents occupied adjoining houses; and neighborhood brought the young people together, and acquaintance ripened into love. they would gladly have married, but their parents forbade. one thing, however, they could not forbid--that love should glow with equal ardor in the bosoms of both. they conversed by signs and glances, and the fire burned more intensely for being covered up. in the wall that parted the two houses there was a crack, caused by some fault in the structure. no one had remarked it before, but the lovers discovered it. what will not love discover! it afforded a passage to the voice; and tender messages used to pass backward and forward through the gap. as they stood, pyramus on this side, thisbe on that, their breaths would mingle. "cruel wall," they said, "why do you keep two lovers apart? but we will not be ungrateful. we owe you, we confess, the privilege of transmitting loving words to willing ears." such words they uttered on different sides of the wall; and when night came and they must say farewell, they pressed their lips upon the wall, she on her side, he on his, as they could come no nearer. next morning, when aurora had put out the stars, and the sun had melted the frost from the grass, they met at the accustomed spot. then, after lamenting their hard fate, they agreed, that next night, when all was still, they would slip away from watchful eyes, leave their dwellings and walk out into the fields; and to insure a meeting, repair to a well-known edifice standing without the city's bounds, called the tomb of ninus, and that the one who came first should await the other at the foot of a certain tree. it was a white mulberry tree, and stood near a cool spring. all was agreed on, and they waited impatiently for the sun to go down beneath the waters and night to rise up from them. then cautiously thisbe stole forth, unobserved by the family, her head covered with a veil, made her way to the monument and sat down under the tree. as she sat alone in the dim light of the evening she descried a lioness, her jaws reeking with recent slaughter, approaching the fountain to slake her thirst. thisbe fled at the sight, and sought refuge in the hollow of a rock. as she fled she dropped her veil. the lioness after drinking at the spring turned to retreat to the woods, and seeing the veil on the ground, tossed and rent it with her bloody mouth. pyramus, having been delayed, now approached the place of meeting. he saw in the sand the footsteps of the lion, and the color fled from his cheeks at the sight. presently he found the veil all rent and bloody. "o hapless girl," said he, "i have been the cause of thy death! thou, more worthy of life than i, hast fallen the first victim. i will follow. i am the guilty cause, in tempting thee forth to a place of such peril, and not being myself on the spot to guard thee. come forth, ye lions, from the rocks, and tear this guilty body with your teeth." he took up the veil, carried it with him to the appointed tree, and covered it with kisses and with tears. "my blood also shall stain your texture," said he, and drawing his sword plunged it into his heart. the blood spurted from the wound, and tinged the white mulberries of the tree all red; and sinking into the earth reached the roots, so that the red color mounted through the trunk to the fruit. by this time thisbe, still trembling with fear, yet wishing not to disappoint her lover, stepped cautiously forth, looking anxiously for the youth, eager to tell him the danger she had escaped. when she came to the spot and saw the changed color of the mulberries she doubted whether it was the same place. while she hesitated she saw the form of one struggling in the agonies of death. she started back, a shudder ran through her frame as a ripple on the face of the still water when a sudden breeze sweeps over it. but as soon as she recognized her lover, she screamed and beat her breast, embracing the lifeless body, pouring tears into its wounds, and imprinting kisses on the cold lips. "o pyramus," she cried, "what has done this? answer me, pyramus; it is your own thisbe that speaks. hear me, dearest, and lift that drooping head!" at the name of thisbe pyramus opened his eyes, then closed them again. she saw her veil stained with blood and the scabbard empty of its sword. "thy own hand has slain thee, and for my sake," she said. "i too can be brave for once, and my love is as strong as thine. i will follow thee in death, for i have been the cause; and death which alone could part us shall not prevent my joining thee. and ye, unhappy parents of us both, deny us not our united request. as love and death have joined us, let one tomb contain us. and thou, tree, retain the marks of slaughter. let thy berries still serve for memorials of our blood." so saying she plunged the sword into her breast. her parents ratified her wish, the gods also ratified it. the two bodies were buried in one sepulchre, and the tree ever after brought forth purple berries, as it does to this day. moore, in the "sylph's ball," speaking of davy's safety lamp, is reminded of the wall that separated thisbe and her lover: "o for that lamp's metallic gauze, that curtain of protecting wire, which davy delicately draws around illicit, dangerous fire! the wall he sets 'twixt flame and air, (like that which barred young thisbe's bliss,) through whose small holes this dangerous pair may see each other, but not kiss." in mickle's translation of the "lusiad" occurs the following allusion to the story of pyramus and thisbe, and the metamorphosis of the mulberries. the poet is describing the island of love: "... here each gift pomona's hand bestows in cultured garden, free uncultured flows, the flavor sweeter and the hue more fair than e'er was fostered by the hand of care. the cherry here in shining crimson glows, and stained with lovers' blood, in pendent rows, the mulberries o'erload the bending boughs." if any of our young readers can be so hard-hearted as to enjoy a laugh at the expense of poor pyramus and thisbe, they may find an opportunity by turning to shakspeare's play of the "midsummer night's dream," where it is most amusingly burlesqued. cephalus and procris cephalus was a beautiful youth and fond of manly sports. he would rise before the dawn to pursue the chase. aurora saw him when she first looked forth, fell in love with him, and stole him away. but cephalus was just married to a charming wife whom he devotedly loved. her name was procris. she was a favorite of diana, the goddess of hunting, who had given her a dog which could outrun every rival, and a javelin which would never fail of its mark; and procris gave these presents to her husband. cephalus was so happy in his wife that he resisted all the entreaties of aurora, and she finally dismissed him in displeasure, saying, "go, ungrateful mortal, keep your wife, whom, if i am not much mistaken, you will one day be very sorry you ever saw again." cephalus returned, and was as happy as ever in his wife and his woodland sports. now it happened some angry deity had sent a ravenous fox to annoy the country; and the hunters turned out in great strength to capture it. their efforts were all in vain; no dog could run it down; and at last they came to cephalus to borrow his famous dog, whose name was lelaps. no sooner was the dog let loose than he darted off, quicker than their eye could follow him. if they had not seen his footprints in the sand they would have thought he flew. cephalus and others stood on a hill and saw the race. the fox tried every art; he ran in a circle and turned on his track, the dog close upon him, with open jaws, snapping at his heels, but biting only the air. cephalus was about to use his javelin, when suddenly he saw both dog and game stop instantly. the heavenly powers who had given both were not willing that either should conquer. in the very attitude of life and action they were turned into stone. so lifelike and natural did they look, you would have thought, as you looked at them, that one was going to bark, the other to leap forward. cephalus, though he had lost his dog, still continued to take delight in the chase. he would go out at early morning, ranging the woods and hills unaccompanied by any one, needing no help, for his javelin was a sure weapon in all cases. fatigued with hunting, when the sun got high he would seek a shady nook where a cool stream flowed, and, stretched on the grass, with his garments thrown aside, would enjoy the breeze. sometimes he would say aloud, "come, sweet breeze, come and fan my breast, come and allay the heat that burns me." some one passing by one day heard him talking in this way to the air, and, foolishly believing that he was talking to some maiden, went and told the secret to procris, cephalus's wife. love is credulous. procris, at the sudden shock, fainted away. presently recovering, she said, "it cannot be true; i will not believe it unless i myself am a witness to it." so she waited, with anxious heart, till the next morning, when cephalus went to hunt as usual. then she stole out after him, and concealed herself in the place where the informer directed her. cephalus came as he was wont when tired with sport, and stretched himself on the green bank, saying, "come, sweet breeze, come and fan me; you know how i love you! you make the groves and my solitary rambles delightful." he was running on in this way when he heard, or thought he heard, a sound as of a sob in the bushes. supposing it some wild animal, he threw his javelin at the spot. a cry from his beloved procris told him that the weapon had too surely met its mark. he rushed to the place, and found her bleeding, and with sinking strength endeavoring to draw forth from the wound the javelin, her own gift. cephalus raised her from the earth, strove to stanch the blood, and called her to revive and not to leave him miserable, to reproach himself with her death. she opened her feeble eyes, and forced herself to utter these few words: "i implore you, if you have ever loved me, if i have ever deserved kindness at your hands, my husband, grant me this last request; do not marry that odious breeze!" this disclosed the whole mystery: but alas! what advantage to disclose it now! she died; but her face wore a calm expression, and she looked pityingly and forgivingly on her husband when he made her understand the truth. moore, in his "legendary ballads," has one on cephalus and procris, beginning thus: "a hunter once in a grove reclined, to shun the noon's bright eye, and oft he wooed the wandering wind to cool his brow with its sigh while mute lay even the wild bee's hum, nor breath could stir the aspen's hair, his song was still, 'sweet air, o come!' while echo answered, 'come, sweet air!'" chapter iv juno and her rivals, io and callisto--diana and actaeon--latona and the rustics juno one day perceived it suddenly grow dark, and immediately suspected that her husband had raised a cloud to hide some of his doings that would not bear the light. she brushed away the cloud, and saw her husband on the banks of a glassy river, with a beautiful heifer standing near him. juno suspected the heifer's form concealed some fair nymph of mortal mould--as was, indeed the case; for it was io, the daughter of the river god inachus, whom jupiter had been flirting with, and, when he became aware of the approach of his wife, had changed into that form. juno joined her husband, and noticing the heifer praised its beauty, and asked whose it was, and of what herd. jupiter, to stop questions, replied that it was a fresh creation from the earth. juno asked to have it as a gift. what could jupiter do? he was loath to give his mistress to his wife; yet how refuse so trifling a present as a simple heifer? he could not, without exciting suspicion; so he consented. the goddess was not yet relieved of her suspicions; so she delivered the heifer to argus, to be strictly watched. now argus had a hundred eyes in his head, and never went to sleep with more than two at a time, so that he kept watch of io constantly. he suffered her to feed through the day, and at night tied her up with a vile rope round her neck. she would have stretched out her arms to implore freedom of argus, but she had no arms to stretch out, and her voice was a bellow that frightened even herself. she saw her father and her sisters, went near them, and suffered them to pat her back, and heard them admire her beauty. her father reached her a tuft of grass, and she licked the outstretched hand. she longed to make herself known to him, and would have uttered her wish; but, alas! words were wanting. at length she bethought herself of writing, and inscribed her name-- it was a short one--with her hoof on the sand. inachus recognized it, and discovering that his daughter, whom he had long sought in vain, was hidden under this disguise, mourned over her, and, embracing her white neck, exclaimed, "alas! my daughter, it would have been a less grief to have lost you altogether!" while he thus lamented, argus, observing, came and drove her away, and took his seat on a high bank, from whence he could see all around in every direction. jupiter was troubled at beholding the sufferings of his mistress, and calling mercury told him to go and despatch argus. mercury made haste, put his winged slippers on his feet, and cap on his head, took his sleep-producing wand, and leaped down from the heavenly towers to the earth. there he laid aside his wings, and kept only his wand, with which he presented himself as a shepherd driving his flock. as he strolled on he blew upon his pipes. these were what are called the syrinx or pandean pipes. argus listened with delight, for he had never seen the instrument before. "young man," said he, "come and take a seat by me on this stone. there is no better place for your flocks to graze in than hereabouts, and here is a pleasant shade such as shepherds love." mercury sat down, talked, and told stories till it grew late, and played upon his pipes his most soothing strains, hoping to lull the watchful eyes to sleep, but all in vain; for argus still contrived to keep some of his eyes open though he shut the rest. among other stories, mercury told him how the instrument on which he played was invented. "there was a certain nymph, whose name was syrinx, who was much beloved by the satyrs and spirits of the wood; but she would have none of them, but was a faithful worshipper of diana, and followed the chase. you would have thought it was diana herself, had you seen her in her hunting dress, only that her bow was of horn and diana's of silver. one day, as she was returning from the chase, pan met her, told her just this, and added more of the same sort. she ran away, without stopping to hear his compliments, and he pursued till she came to the bank of the river, where he overtook her, and she had only time to call for help on her friends the water nymphs. they heard and consented. pan threw his arms around what he supposed to be the form of the nymph, and found he embraced only a tuft of reeds! as he breathed a sigh, the air sounded through the reeds, and produced a plaintive melody. the god, charmed with the novelty and with the sweetness of the music, said, 'thus, then, at least, you shall be mine.' and he took some of the reeds, and placing them together, of unequal lengths, side by side, made an instrument which he called syrinx, in honor of the nymph." before mercury had finished his story he saw argus's eyes all asleep. as his head nodded forward on his breast, mercury with one stroke cut his neck through, and tumbled his head down the rocks. o hapless argus! the light of your hundred eyes is quenched at once! juno took them and put them as ornaments on the tail of her peacock, where they remain to this day. but the vengeance of juno was not yet satiated. she sent a gadfly to torment io, who fled over the whole world from its pursuit. she swam through the ionian sea, which derived its name from her, then roamed over the plains of illyria, ascended mount haemus, and crossed the thracian strait, thence named the bosphorus (cow- ford), rambled on through scythia, and the country of the cimmerians, and arrived at last on the banks of the nile. at length jupiter interceded for her, and upon his promising not to pay her any more attentions juno consented to restore her to her form. it was curious to see her gradually recover her former self. the coarse hairs fell from her body, her horns shrank up, her eyes grew narrower, her mouth shorter; hands and fingers came instead of hoofs to her forefeet; in fine there was nothing left of the heifer, except her beauty. at first she was afraid to speak, for fear she should low, but gradually she recovered her confidence and was restored to her father and sisters. in a poem dedicated to leigh hunt, by keats, the following allusion to the story of pan and syrinx occurs: "so did he feel who pulled the bough aside, that we might look into a forest wide, telling us how fair trembling syrinx fled arcadian pan, with such a fearful dread. poor nymph--poor pan--how he did weep to find nought but a lovely sighing of the wind along the reedy stream; a half-heard strain. full of sweet desolation, balmy pain." callisto callisto was another maiden who excited the jealousy of juno, and the goddess changed her into a bear. "i will take away," said she, "that beauty with which you have captivated my husband." down fell callisto on her hands and knees; she tried to stretch out her arms in supplication--they were already beginning to be covered with black hair. her hands grew rounded, became armed with crooked claws, and served for feet; her mouth, which jove used to praise for its beauty, became a horrid pair of jaws; her voice, which if unchanged would have moved the heart to pity, became a growl, more fit to inspire terror. yet her former disposition remained, and with continual groaning, she bemoaned her fate, and stood upright as well as she could, lifting up her paws to beg for mercy, and felt that jove was unkind, though she could not tell him so. ah, how often, afraid to stay in the woods all night alone, she wandered about the neighborhood of her former haunts; how often, frightened by the dogs, did she, so lately a huntress, fly in terror from the hunters! often she fled from the wild beasts, forgetting that she was now a wild beast herself; and, bear as she was, was afraid of the bears. one day a youth espied her as he was hunting. she saw him and recognized him as her own son, now grown a young man. she stopped and felt inclined to embrace him. as she was about to approach, he, alarmed, raised his hunting spear, and was on the point of transfixing her, when jupiter, beholding, arrested the crime, and snatching away both of them, placed them in the heavens as the great and little bear. juno was in a rage to see her rival so set in honor, and hastened to ancient tethys and oceanus, the powers of ocean, and in answer to their inquiries thus told the cause of her coming: "do you ask why i, the queen of the gods, have left the heavenly plains and sought your depths? learn that i am supplanted in heaven--my place is given to another. you will hardly believe me; but look when night darkens the world, and you shall see the two of whom i have so much reason to complain exalted to the heavens, in that part where the circle is the smallest, in the neighborhood of the pole. why should any one hereafter tremble at the thought of offending juno, when such rewards are the consequence of my displeasure? see what i have been able to effect! i forbade her to wear the human form--she is placed among the stars! so do my punishments result-- such is the extent of my power! better that she should have resumed her former shape, as i permitted io to do. perhaps he means to marry her, and put me away! but you, my foster-parents, if you feel for me, and see with displeasure this unworthy treatment of me, show it, i beseech you, by forbidding this guilty couple from coming into your waters." the powers of the ocean assented, and consequently the two constellations of the great and little bear move round and round in heaven, but never sink, as the other stars do, beneath the ocean. milton alludes to the fact that the constellation of the bear never sets, when he says: "let my lamp at midnight hour be seen in some high lonely tower, where i may oft outwatch the bear," etc. and prometheus, in j. r. lowell's poem, says: "one after one the stars have risen and set, sparkling upon the hoar frost of my chain; the bear that prowled all night about the fold of the north-star, hath shrunk into his den, scared by the blithesome footsteps of the dawn." the last star in the tail of the little bear is the pole-star, called also the cynosure. milton says: "straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures while the landscape round it measures. towers and battlements it sees bosomed high in tufted trees, where perhaps some beauty lies the cynosure of neighboring eyes" the reference here is both to the pole-star as the guide of mariners, and to the magnetic attraction of the north he calls it also the "star of arcady," because callisto's boy was named arcas, and they lived in arcadia. in "comus," the brother, benighted in the woods, says: "... some gentle taper! though a rush candle, from the wicker hole of some clay habitation, visit us with thy long levelled rule of streaming light, and thou shalt be our star of arcady, or tyrian cynosure." diana and actaeon thus in two instances we have seen juno's severity to her rivals; now let us learn how a virgin goddess punished an invader of her privacy. it was midday, and the sun stood equally distant from either goal, when young actaeon, son of king cadmus, thus addressed the youths who with him were hunting the stag in the mountains: "friends, our nets and our weapons are wet with the blood of our victims; we have had sport enough for one day, and to-morrow we can renew our labors. now, while phoebus parches the earth, let us put by our implements and indulge ourselves with rest." there was a valley thick enclosed with cypresses and pines, sacred to the huntress queen, diana. in the extremity of the valley was a cave, not adorned with art, but nature had counterfeited art in its construction, for she had turned the arch of its roof with stones as delicately fitted as if by the hand of man. a fountain burst out from one side, whose open basin was bounded by a grassy rim. here the goddess of the woods used to come when weary with hunting and lave her virgin limbs in the sparkling water. one day, having repaired thither with her nymphs, she handed her javelin, her quiver, and her bow to one, her robe to another, while a third unbound the sandals from her feet. then crocale, the most skilful of them, arranged her hair, and nephele, hyale, and the rest drew water in capacious urns. while the goddess was thus employed in the labors of the toilet, behold actaeon, having quitted his companions, and rambling without any especial object, came to the place, led thither by his destiny. as he presented himself at the entrance of the cave, the nymphs, seeing a man, screamed and rushed towards the goddess to hide her with their bodies. but she was taller than the rest and overtopped them all by a head. such a color as tinges the clouds at sunset or at dawn came over the countenance of diana thus taken by surprise. surrounded as she was by her nymphs, she yet turned half away, and sought with a sudden impulse for her arrows. as they were not at hand, she dashed the water into the face of the intruder, adding these words: "now go and tell, if you can, that you have seen diana unapparelled." immediately a pair of branching stag's horns grew out of his head, his neck gained in length, his ears grew sharp-pointed, his hands became feet, his arms long legs, his body was covered with a hairy spotted hide. fear took the place of his former boldness, and the hero fled. he could not but admire his own speed; but when he saw his horns in the water, "ah, wretched me!" he would have said, but no sound followed the effort. he groaned, and tears flowed down the face which had taken the place of his own. yet his consciousness remained. what shall he do?--go home to seek the palace, or lie hid in the woods? the latter he was afraid, the former he was ashamed, to do. while he hesitated the dogs saw him. first melampus, a spartan dog, gave the signal with his bark, then pamphagus, dorceus, lelaps, theron, nape, tigris, and all the rest, rushed after him swifter than the wind. over rocks and cliffs, through mountain gorges that seemed impracticable, he fled and they followed. where he had often chased the stag and cheered on his pack, his pack now chased him, cheered on by his huntsmen. he longed to cry out, "i am actaeon; recognize your master!" but the words came not at his will. the air resounded with the bark of the dogs. presently one fastened on his back, another seized his shoulder. while they held their master, the rest of the pack came up and buried their teeth in his flesh. he groaned,--not in a human voice, yet certainly not in a stag's,--and falling on his knees, raised his eyes, and would have raised his arms in supplication, if he had had them. his friends and fellow-huntsmen cheered on the dogs, and looked everywhere for actaeon, calling on him to join the sport. at the sound of his name he turned his head, and heard them regret that he should be away. he earnestly wished he was. he would have been well pleased to see the exploits of his dogs, but to feel them was too much. they were all around him, rending and tearing; and it was not till they had torn his life out that the anger of diana was satisfied. in shelley's poem "adonais" is the following allusion to the story of actaeon: "'midst others of less note came one frail form, a phantom among men: companionless as the last cloud of an expiring storm, whose thunder is its knell; he, as i guess, had gazed on nature's naked loveliness, actaeon-like, and now he fled astray with feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness; and his own thoughts, along that rugged way, pursued like raging hounds their father and their prey." stanza . the allusion is probably to shelley himself. latona and the rustics some thought the goddess in this instance more severe than was just, while others praised her conduct as strictly consistent with her virgin dignity. as, usual, the recent event brought older ones to mind, and one of the bystanders told this story: "some countrymen of lycia once insulted the goddess latona, but not with impunity. when i was young, my father, who had grown too old for active labors, sent me to lycia to drive thence some choice oxen, and there i saw the very pond and marsh where the wonder happened. near by stood an ancient altar, black with the smoke of sacrifice and almost buried among the reeds. i inquired whose altar it might be, whether of faunus or the naiads, or some god of the neighboring mountain, and one of the country people replied, 'no mountain or river god possesses this altar, but she whom royal juno in her jealousy drove from land to land, denying her any spot of earth whereon to rear her twins. bearing in her arms the infant deities, latona reached this land, weary with her burden and parched with thirst. by chance she espied on the bottom of the valley this pond of clear water, where the country people were at work gathering willows and osiers. the goddess approached, and kneeling on the bank would have slaked her thirst in the cool stream, but the rustics forbade her. 'why do you refuse me water?' said she; 'water is free to all. nature allows no one to claim as property the sunshine, the air, or the water. i come to take my share of the common blessing. yet i ask it of you as a favor. i have no intention of washing my limbs in it, weary though they be, but only to quench my thirst. my mouth is so dry that i can hardly speak. a draught of water would be nectar to me; it would revive me, and i would own myself indebted to you for life itself. let these infants move your pity, who stretch out their little arms as if to plead for me;' and the children, as it happened, were stretching out their arms. "who would not have been moved with these gentle words of the goddess? but these clowns persisted in their rudeness; they even added jeers and threats of violence if she did not leave the place. nor was this all. they waded into the pond and stirred up the mud with their feet, so as to make the water unfit to drink. latona was so angry that she ceased to mind her thirst. she no longer supplicated the clowns, but lifting her hands to heaven exclaimed, 'may they never quit that pool, but pass their lives there!' and it came to pass accordingly. they now live in the water, sometimes totally submerged, then raising their heads above the surface or swimming upon it. sometimes they come out upon the bank, but soon leap back again into the water. they still use their base voices in railing, and though they have the water all to themselves, are not ashamed to croak in the midst of it. their voices are harsh, their throats bloated, their mouths have become stretched by constant railing, their necks have shrunk up and disappeared, and their heads are joined to their bodies. their backs are green, their disproportioned bellies white, and in short they are now frogs, and dwell in the slimy pool." this story explains the allusion in one of milton's sonnets, "on the detraction which followed upon his writing certain treatises." "i did but prompt the age to quit their clogs by the known laws of ancient liberty, when straight a barbarous noise environs me of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs. as when those hinds that were transformed to frogs railed at latona's twin-born progeny, which after held the sun and moon in fee." the persecution which latona experienced from juno is alluded to in the story. the tradition was that the future mother of apollo and diana, flying from the wrath of juno, besought all the islands of the aegean to afford her a place of rest, but all feared too much the potent queen of heaven to assist her rival. delos alone consented to become the birthplace of the future deities. delos was then a floating island; but when latona arrived there, jupiter fastened it with adamantine chains to the bottom of the sea, that it might be a secure resting-place for his beloved. byron alludes to delos in his "don juan": "the isles of greece! the isles of greece! where burning sappho loved and sung, where grew the arts of war and peace, where delos rose and phoebus sprung!" chapter v phaeton phaeton was the son of apollo and the nymph clymene. one day a schoolfellow laughed at the idea of his being the son of the god, and phaeton went in rage and shame and reported it to his mother. "if," said he, "i am indeed of heavenly birth, give me, mother, some proof of it, and establish my claim to the honor." clymene stretched forth her hands towards the skies, and said, "i call to witness the sun which looks down upon us, that i have told you the truth. if i speak falsely, let this be the last time i behold his light. but it needs not much labor to go and inquire for yourself; the land whence the sun rises lies next to ours. go and demand of him whether he will own you as a son." phaeton heard with delight. he travelled to india, which lies directly in the regions of sunrise; and, full of hope and pride, approached the goal whence his parent begins his course. the palace of the sun stood reared aloft on columns, glittering with gold and precious stones, while polished ivory formed the ceilings, and silver the doors. the workmanship surpassed the material; [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] for upon the walls vulcan had represented earth, sea, and skies, with their inhabitants. in the sea were the nymphs, some sporting in the waves, some riding on the backs of fishes, while others sat upon the rocks and dried their sea-green hair. their faces were not all alike, nor yet unlike,--but such as sisters' ought to be. [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] the earth had its towns and forests and rivers and rustic divinities. over all was carved the likeness of the glorious heaven; and on the silver doors the twelve signs of the zodiac, six on each side. clymene's son advanced up the steep ascent, and entered the halls of his disputed father. he approached the paternal presence, but stopped at a distance, for the light was more than he could bear. phoebus, arrayed in a purple vesture, sat on a throne, which glittered as with diamonds. on his right hand and his left stood the day, the month, and the year, and, at regular intervals, the hours. spring stood with her head crowned with flowers, and summer, with garment cast aside, and a garland formed of spears of ripened grain, and autumn, with his feet stained with grape-juice, and icy winter, with his hair stiffened with hoar frost. surrounded by these attendants, the sun, with the eye that sees everything, beheld the youth dazzled with the novelty and splendor of the scene, and inquired the purpose of his errand. the youth replied, "o light of the boundless world, phoebus, my father,--if you permit me to use that name,--give me some proof, i beseech you, by which i may be known as yours." he ceased; and his father, laying aside the beams that shone all around his head, bade him approach, and embracing him, said, "my son, you deserve not to be disowned, and i confirm what your mother has told you. to put an end to your doubts, ask what you will, the gift shall be yours. i call to witness that dreadful lake, which i never saw, but which we gods swear by in our most solemn engagements." phaeton immediately asked to be permitted for one day to drive the chariot of the sun. the father repented of his promise; thrice and four times he shook his radiant head in warning. "i have spoken rashly," said he; "this only request i would fain deny. i beg you to withdraw it. it is not a safe boon, nor one, my phaeton, suited to your youth and strength. your lot is mortal, and you ask what is beyond a mortal's power. in your ignorance you aspire to do that which not even the gods themselves may do. none but myself may drive the flaming car of day. not even jupiter, whose terrible right arm hurls the thunderbolts. the first part of the way is steep, and such as the horses when fresh in the morning can hardly climb; the middle is high up in the heavens, whence i myself can scarcely, without alarm, look down and behold the earth and sea stretched beneath me. the last part of the road descends rapidly, and requires most careful driving. tethys, who is waiting to receive me, often trembles for me lest i should fall headlong. add to all this, the heaven is all the time turning round and carrying the stars with it. i have to be perpetually on my guard lest that movement, which sweeps everything else along, should hurry me also away. suppose i should lend you the chariot, what would you do? could you keep your course while the sphere was revolving under you? perhaps you think that there are forests and cities, the abodes of gods, and palaces and temples on the way. on the contrary, the road is through the midst of frightful monsters. you pass by the horns of the bull, in front of the archer, and near the lion's jaws, and where the scorpion stretches its arms in one direction and the crab in another. nor will you find it easy to guide those horses, with their breasts full of fire that they breathe forth from their mouths and nostrils. i can scarcely govern them myself, when they are unruly and resist the reins. beware, my son, lest i be the donor of a fatal gift; recall your request while yet you may. do you ask me for a proof that you are sprung from my blood? i give you a proof in my fears for you. look at my face--i would that you could look into my breast, you would there see all a father's anxiety. finally," he continued, "look round the world and choose whatever you will of what earth or sea contains most precious--ask it and fear no refusal. this only i pray you not to urge. it is not honor, but destruction you seek. why do you hang round my neck and still entreat me? you shall have it if you persist,--the oath is sworn and must be kept,--but i beg you to choose more wisely." he ended; but the youth rejected all admonition and held to his demand. so, having resisted as long as he could, phoebus at last led the way to where stood the lofty chariot. it was of gold, the gift of vulcan; the axle was of gold, the pole and wheels of gold, the spokes of silver. along the seat were rows of chrysolites and diamonds which reflected all around the brightness of the sun. while the daring youth, gazed in admiration, the early dawn threw open the purple doors of the east, and showed the pathway strewn with roses. the stars withdrew, marshalled by the day-star, which last of all retired also. the father, when he saw the earth beginning to glow, and the moon preparing to retire, ordered the hours to harness up the horses. they obeyed, and led forth from the lofty stalls the steeds full fed with ambrosia, and attached the reins. then the father bathed the face of his son with a powerful unguent, and made him capable of enduring the brightness of the flame. he set the rays on his head, and, with a foreboding sigh, said, "if, my son, you will in this at least heed my advice, spare the whip and hold tight the reins. they go fast enough of their own accord; the labor is to hold them in. you are not to take the straight road directly between the five circles, but turn off to the left. keep within the limit of the middle zone, and avoid the northern and the southern alike. you will see the marks of the wheels, and they will serve to guide you. and, that the skies and the earth may each receive their due share of heat, go not too high, or you will burn the heavenly dwellings, nor too low, or you will set the earth on fire; the middle course is safest and best. [footnote: see proverbial expressions] and now i leave you to your chance, which i hope will plan better for you than you have done for yourself. night is passing out of the western gates and we can delay no longer. take the reins; but if at last your heart fails you, and you will benefit by my advice, stay where you are in safety, and suffer me to light and warm the earth." the agile youth sprang into the chariot, stood erect, and grasped the reins with delight, pouring out thanks to his reluctant parent. meanwhile the horses fill the air with their snortings and fiery breath, and stamp the ground impatient. now the bars are let down, and the boundless plain of the universe lies open before them. they dart forward and cleave the opposing clouds, and outrun the morning breezes which started from the same eastern goal. the steeds soon perceived that the load they drew was lighter than usual; and as a ship without ballast is tossed hither and thither on the sea, so the chariot, without its accustomed weight, was dashed about as if empty. they rush headlong and leave the travelled road. he is alarmed, and knows not how to guide them; nor, if he knew, has he the power. then, for the first time, the great and little bear were scorched with heat, and would fain, if it were possible, have plunged into the water; and the serpent which lies coiled up round the north pole, torpid and harmless, grew warm, and with warmth felt its rage revive. bootes, they say, fled away, though encumbered with his plough, and all unused to rapid motion. when hapless phaeton looked down upon the earth, now spreading in vast extent beneath him, he grew pale and his knees shook with terror. in spite of the glare all around him, the sight of his eyes grew dim. he wished he had never touched his father's horses, never learned his parentage, never prevailed in his request. he is borne along like a vessel that flies before a tempest, when the pilot can do no more and betakes himself to his prayers. what shall he do? much of the heavenly road is left behind, but more remains before. he turns his eyes from one direction to the other; now to the goal whence he began his course, now to the realms of sunset which he is not destined to reach. he loses his self- command, and knows not what to do,--whether to draw tight the reins or throw them loose; he forgets the names of the horses. he sees with terror the monstrous forms scattered over the surface of heaven. here the scorpion extended his two great arms, with his tail and crooked claws stretching over two signs of the zodiac. when the boy beheld him, reeking with poison and menacing with his fangs, his courage failed, and the reins fell from his hands. the horses, when they felt them loose on their backs, dashed headlong, and unrestrained went off into unknown regions of the sky, in among the stars, hurling the chariot over pathless places, now up in high heaven, now down almost to the earth. the moon saw with astonishment her brother's chariot running beneath her own. the clouds begin to smoke, and the mountain tops take fire; the fields are parched with heat, the plants wither, the trees with their leafy branches burn, the harvest is ablaze! but these are small things. great cities perished, with their walls and towers; whole nations with their people were consumed to ashes! the forest-clad mountains burned, athos and taurus and tmolus and oete; ida, once celebrated for fountains, but now all dry; the muses' mountain helicon, and haemus; aetna, with fires within and without, and parnassus, with his two peaks, and rhodope, forced at last to part with his snowy crown. her cold climate was no protection to scythia, caucasus burned, and ossa and pindus, and, greater than both, olympus; the alps high in air, and the apennines crowned with clouds. then phaeton beheld the world on fire, and felt the heat intolerable. the air he breathed was like the air of a furnace and full of burning ashes, and the smoke was of a pitchy darkness. he dashed forward he knew not whither. then, it is believed, the people of aethiopia became black by the blood being forced so suddenly to the surface, and the libyan desert was dried up to the condition in which it remains to this day. the nymphs of the fountains, with dishevelled hair, mourned their waters, nor were the rivers safe beneath their banks: tanais smoked, and caicus, xanthus, and meander; babylonian euphrates and ganges, tagus with golden sands, and cayster where the swans resort. nile fled away and hid his head in the desert, and there it still remains concealed. where he used to discharge his waters through seven mouths into the sea, there seven dry channels alone remained. the earth cracked open, and through the chinks light broke into tartarus, and frightened the king of shadows and his queen. the sea shrank up. where before was water, it became a dry plain; and the mountains that lie beneath the waves lifted up their heads and became islands. the fishes sought the lowest depths, and the dolphins no longer ventured as usual to sport on the surface. even nereus, and his wife doris, with the nereids, their daughters, sought the deepest caves for refuge. thrice neptune essayed to raise his head above the surface, and thrice was driven back by the heat. earth, surrounded as she was by waters, yet with head and shoulders bare, screening her face with her hand, looked up to heaven, and with a husky voice called on jupiter: "o ruler of the gods, if i have deserved this treatment, and it is your will that i perish with fire, why withhold your thunderbolts? let me at least fall by your hand. is this the reward of my fertility, of my obedient service? is it for this that i have supplied herbage for cattle, and fruits for men, and frankincense for your altars? but if i am unworthy of regard, what has my brother ocean done to deserve such a fate? if neither of us can excite your pity, think, i pray you, of your own heaven, and behold how both the poles are smoking which sustain your palace, which must fall if they be destroyed. atlas faints, and scarce holds up his burden. if sea, earth, and heaven perish, we fall into ancient chaos. save what yet remains to us from the devouring flame. o, take thought for our deliverance in this awful moment!" thus spoke earth, and overcome with heat and thirst, could say no more. then jupiter omnipotent, calling to witness all the gods, including him who had lent the chariot, and showing them that all was lost unless speedy remedy were applied, mounted the lofty tower from whence he diffuses clouds over the earth, and hurls the forked lightnings. but at that time not a cloud was to be found to interpose for a screen to earth, nor was a shower remaining unexhausted. he thundered, and brandishing a lightning bolt in his right hand launched it against the charioteer, and struck him at the same moment from his seat and from existence! phaeton, with his hair on fire, fell headlong, like a shooting star which marks the heavens with its brightness as it falls, and eridanus, the great river, received him and cooled his burning frame. the italian naiads reared a tomb for him, and inscribed these words upon the stone: "driver of phoebus' chariot phaeton, struck by jove's thunder, rests beneath this stone. he could not rule his father's car of fire, yet was it much so nobly to aspire" [footnote: see proverbial expressions] his sisters, the heliades, as they lamented his fate, were turned into poplar trees, on the banks of the river, and their tears, which continued to flow, became amber as they dropped into the stream. milman, in his poem of "samor," makes the following allusion to phaeton's story: "as when the palsied universe aghast lay mute and still, when drove, so poets sing, the sun-born youth devious through heaven's affrighted signs his sire's ill-granted chariot. him the thunderer hurled from th' empyrean headlong to the gulf of the half-parched eridanus, where weep even now the sister trees their amber tears o'er phaeton untimely dead" in the beautiful lines of walter savage landor, descriptive of the sea-shell, there is an allusion to the sun's palace and chariot. the water-nymph says: "i have sinuous shells of pearly hue within, and things that lustre have imbibed in the sun's palace porch, where when unyoked his chariot wheel stands midway on the wave. shake one and it awakens; then apply its polished lip to your attentive ear, and it remembers its august abodes, and murmurs as the ocean murmurs there." --gebir, book i. chapter vi midas--baucis and philemon bacchus, on a certain occasion, found his old schoolmaster and foster-father, silenus, missing. the old man had been drinking, and in that state wandered away, and was found by some peasants, who carried him to their king, midas. midas recognized him, and treated him hospitably, entertaining him for ten days and nights with an unceasing round of jollity. on the eleventh day he brought silenus back, and restored him in safety to his pupil. whereupon bacchus offered midas his choice of a reward, whatever he might wish. he asked that whatever he might touch should be changed into gold. bacchus consented, though sorry that he had not made a better choice. midas went his way, rejoicing in his new-acquired power, which he hastened to put to the test. he could scarce believe his eyes when he found a twig of an oak, which he plucked from the branch, become gold in his hand. he took up a stone; it changed to gold. he touched a sod; it did the same. he took an apple from the tree; you would have thought he had robbed the garden of the hesperides. his joy knew no bounds, and as soon as he got home, he ordered the servants to set a splendid repast on the table. then he found to his dismay that whether he touched bread, it hardened in his hand; or put a morsel to his lips, it defied his teeth. he took a glass of wine, but it flowed down his throat like melted gold. in consternation at the unprecedented affliction, he strove to divest himself of his power; he hated the gift he had lately coveted. but all in vain; starvation seemed to await him. he raised his arms, all shining with gold, in prayer to bacchus, begging to be delivered from his glittering destruction. bacchus, merciful deity, heard and consented. "go," said he, "to the river pactolus, trace the stream to its fountain-head, there plunge your head and body in, and wash away your fault and its punishment." he did so, and scarce had he touched the waters before the gold- creating power passed into them, and the river-sands became changed into gold, as they remain to this day. thenceforth midas, hating wealth and splendor, dwelt in the country, and became a worshipper of pan, the god of the fields. on a certain occasion pan had the temerity to compare his music with that of apollo, and to challenge the god of the lyre to a trial of skill. the challenge was accepted, and tmolus, the mountain god, was chosen umpire. the senior took his seat, and cleared away the trees from his ears to listen. at a given signal pan blew on his pipes, and with his rustic melody gave great satisfaction to himself and his faithful follower midas, who happened to be present. then tmolus turned his head toward the sun-god, and all his trees turned with him. apollo rose, his brow wreathed with parnassian laurel, while his robe of tyrian purple swept the ground. in his left hand he held the lyre, and with his right hand struck the strings. ravished with the harmony, tmolus at once awarded the victory to the god of the lyre, and all but midas acquiesced in the judgment. he dissented, and questioned the justice of the award. apollo would not suffer such a depraved pair of ears any longer to wear the human form, but caused them to increase in length, grow hairy, within and without, and movable on their roots; in short, to be on the perfect pattern of those of an ass. mortified enough was king midas at this mishap; but he consoled himself with the thought that it was possible to hide his misfortune, which he attempted to do by means of an ample turban or head-dress. but his hair-dresser of course knew the secret. he was charged not to mention it, and threatened with dire punishment if he presumed to disobey. but he found it too much for his discretion to keep such a secret; so he went out into the meadow, dug a hole in the ground, and stooping down, whispered the story, and covered it up. before long a thick bed of reeds sprang up in the meadow, and as soon as it had gained its growth, began whispering the story, and has continued to do so, from that day to this, every time a breeze passes over the place. the story of king midas has been told by others with some variations. dryden, in the "wife of bath's tale," makes midas's queen the betrayer of the secret: "this midas knew, and durst communicate to none but to his wife his ears of state." midas was king of phrygia. he was the son of gordius, a poor countryman, who was taken by the people and made king, in obedience to the command of the oracle, which had said that their future king should come in a wagon. while the people were deliberating, gordius with his wife and son came driving his wagon into the public square. gordius, being made king, dedicated his wagon to the deity of the oracle, and tied it up in its place with a fast knot. this was the celebrated gordian knot, which, in after times it was said, whoever should untie should become lord of all asia. many tried to untie it, but none succeeded, till alexander the great, in his career of conquest, came to phrygia. he tried his skill with as ill success as others, till growing impatient he drew his sword and cut the knot. when he afterwards succeeded in subjecting all asia to his sway, people began to think that he had complied with the terms of the oracle according to its true meaning. baucis and philemon on a certain hill in phrygia stands a linden tree and an oak, enclosed by a low wall. not far from the spot is a marsh, formerly good habitable land, but now indented with pools, the resort of fen-birds and cormorants. once on a time jupiter, in, human shape, visited this country, and with him his son mercury (he of the caduceus), without his wings. they presented themselves, as weary travellers, at many a door, seeking rest and shelter, but found all closed, for it was late, and the inhospitable inhabitants would not rouse themselves to open for their reception. at last a humble mansion received them, a small thatched cottage, where baucis, a pious old dame, and her husband philemon, united when young, had grown old together. not ashamed of their poverty, they made it endurable by moderate desires and kind dispositions. one need not look there for master or for servant; they two were the whole household, master and servant alike. when the two heavenly guests crossed the humble threshold, and bowed their heads to pass under the low door, the old man placed a seat, on which baucis, bustling and attentive, spread a cloth, and begged them to sit down. then she raked out the coals from the ashes, and kindled up a fire, fed it with leaves and dry bark, and with her scanty breath blew it into a flame. she brought out of a corner split sticks and dry branches, broke them up, and placed them under the small kettle. her husband collected some pot-herbs in the garden, and she shred them from the stalks, and prepared them for the pot. he reached down with a forked stick a flitch of bacon hanging in the chimney, cut a small piece, and put it in the pot to boil with the herbs, setting away the rest for another time. a beechen bowl was filled with warm water, that their guests might wash. while all was doing, they beguiled the time with conversation. on the bench designed for the guests was laid a cushion stuffed with sea-weed; and a cloth, only produced on great occasions, but ancient and coarse enough, was spread over that. the old lady, with her apron on, with trembling hand set the table. one leg was shorter than the rest, but a piece of slate put under restored the level. when fixed, she rubbed the table down with some sweet- smelling herbs. upon it she set some of chaste minerva's olives, some cornel berries preserved in vinegar, and added radishes and cheese, with eggs lightly cooked in the ashes. all were served in earthen dishes, and an earthenware pitcher, with wooden cups, stood beside them. when all was ready, the stew, smoking hot, was set on the table. some wine, not of the oldest, was added; and for dessert, apples and wild honey; and over and above all, friendly faces, and simple but hearty welcome. now while the repast proceeded, the old folks were astonished to see that the wine, as fast as it was poured out, renewed itself in the pitcher, of its own accord. struck with terror, baucis and philemon recognized their heavenly guests, fell on their knees, and with clasped hands implored forgiveness for their poor entertainment. there was an old goose, which they kept as the guardian of their humble cottage; and they bethought them to make this a sacrifice in honor of their guests. but the goose, too nimble, with the aid of feet and wings, for the old folks, eluded their pursuit, and at last took shelter between the gods themselves. they forbade it to be slain; and spoke in these words: "we are gods. this inhospitable village shall pay the penalty of its impiety; you alone shall go free from the chastisement. quit your house, and come with us to the top of yonder hill." they hastened to obey, and, staff in hand, labored up the steep ascent. they had reached to within an arrow's flight of the top, when turning their eyes below, they beheld all the country sunk in a lake, only their own house left standing. while they gazed with wonder at the sight, and lamented the fate of their neighbors, that old house of theirs was changed into a temple. columns took the place of the corner posts, the thatch grew yellow and appeared a gilded roof, the floors became marble, the doors were enriched with carving and ornaments of gold. then spoke jupiter in benignant accents: "excellent old man, and woman worthy of such a husband, speak, tell us your wishes; what favor have you to ask of us?" philemon took counsel with baucis a few moments; then declared to the gods their united wish. "we ask to be priests and guardians of this your temple; and since here we have passed our lives in love and concord, we wish that one and the same hour may take us both from life, that i may not live to see her grave, nor be laid in my own by her." their prayer was granted. they were the keepers of the temple as long as they lived. when grown very old, as they stood one day before the steps of the sacred edifice, and were telling the story of the place, baucis saw philemon begin to put forth leaves, and old philemon saw baucis changing in like manner. and now a leafy crown had grown over their heads, while exchanging parting words, as long as they could speak. "farewell, dear spouse," they said, together, and at the same moment the bark closed over their mouths. the tyanean shepherd still shows the two trees, standing side by side, made out of the two good old people. the story of baucis and philemon has been imitated by swift, in a burlesque style, the actors in the change being two wandering saints, and the house being changed into a church, of which philemon is made the parson. the following may serve as a specimen: "they scarce had spoke, when, fair and soft, the roof began to mount aloft; aloft rose every beam and rafter; the heavy wall climbed slowly after. the chimney widened and grew higher, became a steeple with a spire. the kettle to the top was hoist. and there stood fastened to a joist, but with the upside down, to show its inclination for below; in vain, for a superior force, applied at bottom, stops its course; doomed ever in suspense to dwell, 'tis now no kettle, but a bell. a wooden jack, which had almost lost by disuse the art to roast, a sudden alteration feels increased by new intestine wheels; and, what exalts the wonder more. the number made the motion slower; the flier, though't had leaden feet, turned round so quick you scarce could see't; but slackened by some secret power, now hardly moves an inch an hour. the jack and chimney, near allied, had never left each other's side: the chimney to a steeple grown, the jack would not be left alone; but up against the steeple reared, became a clock, and still adhered; and still its love to household cares by a shrill voice at noon declares, warning the cook-maid not to burn that roast meat which it cannot turn; the groaning chair began to crawl, like a huge snail, along the wall; there stuck aloft in public view, and with small change, a pulpit grew. a bedstead of the antique mode, compact of timber many a load, such as our ancestors did use, was metamorphosed into pews, which still their ancient nature keep by lodging folks disposed to sleep." chapter vii proserpine--glaucus and scylla when jupiter and his brothers had defeated the titans and banished them to tartarus, a new enemy rose up against the gods. they were the giants typhon, briareus, enceladus, and others. some of them had a hundred arms, others breathed out fire. they were finally subdued and buried alive under mount aetna, where they still sometimes struggle to get loose, and shake the whole island with earthquakes. their breath comes up through the mountain, and is what men call the eruption of the volcano. the fall of these monsters shook the earth, so that pluto was alarmed, and feared that his kingdom would be laid open to the light of day. under this apprehension, he mounted his chariot, drawn by black horses, and took a circuit of inspection to satisfy himself of the extent of the damage. while he was thus engaged, venus, who was sitting on mount eryx playing with her boy cupid, espied him, and said, "my son, take your darts with which you conquer all, even jove himself, and send one into the breast of yonder dark monarch, who rules the realm of tartarus. why should he alone escape? seize the opportunity to extend your empire and mine. do you not see that even in heaven some despise our power? minerva the wise, and diana the huntress, defy us; and there is that daughter of ceres, who threatens to follow their example. now do you, if you have any regard for your own interest or mine, join these two in one." the boy unbound his quiver, and selected his sharpest and truest arrow; then straining the bow against his knee, he attached the string, and, having made ready, shot the arrow with its barbed point right into the heart of pluto. in the vale of enna there is a lake embowered in woods, which screen it from the fervid rays of the sun, while the moist ground is covered with flowers, and spring reigns perpetual. here proserpine was playing with her companions, gathering lilies and violets, and filling her basket and her apron with them, when pluto saw her, loved her, and carried her off. she screamed for help to her mother and companions; and when in her fright she dropped the corners of her apron and let the flowers fall, childlike she felt the loss of them as an addition to her grief. the ravisher urged on his steeds, calling them each by name, and throwing loose over their heads and necks his iron-colored reins. when he reached the river cyane, and it opposed his passage, he struck the river-bank with his trident, and the earth opened and gave him a passage to tartarus. ceres sought her daughter all the world over. bright-haired aurora, when she came forth in the morning, and hesperus when he led out the stars in the evening, found her still busy in the search. but it was all unavailing. at length, weary and sad, she sat down upon a stone, and continued sitting nine days and nights, in the open air, under the sunlight and moonlight and falling showers. it was where now stands the city of eleusis, then the home of an old man named celeus. he was out in the field, gathering acorns and blackberries, and sticks for his fire. his little girl was driving home their two goats, and as she passed the goddess, who appeared in the guise of an old woman, she said to her, "mother,"--and the name was sweet to the ears of ceres,-- "why do you sit here alone upon the rocks?" the old man also stopped, though his load was heavy, and begged her to come into his cottage, such as it was. she declined, and he urged her. "go in peace," she replied, "and be happy in your daughter; i have lost mine." as she spoke, tears--or something like tears, for the gods never weep--fell down her cheeks upon her bosom. the compassionate old man and his child wept with her. then said he, "come with us, and despise not our humble roof; so may your daughter be restored to you in safety." "lead on," said she, "i cannot resist that appeal!" so she rose from the stone and went with them. as they walked he told her that his only son, a little boy, lay very sick, feverish, and sleepless. she stooped and gathered some poppies. as they entered the cottage, they found all in great distress, for the boy seemed past hope of recovery. metanira, his mother, received her kindly, and the goddess stooped and kissed the lips of the sick child. instantly the paleness left his face, and healthy vigor returned to his body. the whole family were delighted--that is, the father, mother, and little girl, for they were all; they had no servants. they spread the table, and put upon it curds and cream, apples, and honey in the comb. while they ate, ceres mingled poppy juice in the milk of the boy. when night came and all was still, she arose, and taking the sleeping boy, moulded his limbs with her hands, and uttered over him three times a solemn charm, then went and laid him in the ashes. his mother, who had been watching what her guest was doing, sprang forward with a cry and snatched the child from the fire. then ceres assumed her own form, and a divine splendor shone all around. while they were overcome with astonishment, she said, "mother, you have been cruel in your fondness to your son. i would have made him immortal, but you have frustrated my attempt. nevertheless, he shall be great and useful. he shall teach men the use of the plough, and the rewards which labor can win from the cultivated soil." so saying, she wrapped a cloud about her, and mounting her chariot rode away. ceres continued her search for her daughter, passing from land to land, and across seas and rivers, till at length she returned to sicily, whence she at first set out, and stood by the banks of the river cyane, where pluto made himself a passage with his prize to his own dominions. the river nymph would have told the goddess all she had witnessed, but dared not, for fear of pluto; so she only ventured to take up the girdle which proserpine had dropped in her flight, and waft it to the feet of the mother. ceres, seeing this, was no longer in doubt of her loss, but she did not yet know the cause, and laid the blame on the innocent land. "ungrateful soil," said she, "which i have endowed with fertility and clothed with herbage and nourishing grain, no more shall you enjoy my favors." then the cattle died, the plough broke in the furrow, the seed failed to come up; there was too much sun, there was too much rain; the birds stole the seeds--thistles and brambles were the only growth. seeing this, the fountain arethusa interceded for the land. "goddess," said she, "blame not the land; it opened unwillingly to yield a passage to your daughter. i can tell you of her fate, for i have seen her. this is not my native country; i came hither from elis. i was a woodland nymph, and delighted in the chase. they praised my beauty, but i cared nothing for it, and rather boasted of my hunting exploits. one day i was returning from the wood, heated with exercise, when i came to a stream silently flowing, so clear that you might count the pebbles on the bottom. the willows shaded it, and the grassy bank sloped down to the water's edge. i approached, i touched the water with my foot. i stepped in knee-deep, and not content with that, i laid my garments on the willows and went in. while i sported in the water, i heard an indistinct murmur coming up as out of the depths of the stream: and made haste to escape to the nearest bank. the voice said, 'why do you fly, arethusa? i am alpheus, the god of this stream.' i ran, he pursued; he was not more swift than i, but he was stronger, and gained upon me, as my strength failed. at last, exhausted, i cried for help to diana. 'help me, goddess! help your votary!' the goddess heard, and wrapped me suddenly in a thick cloud. the river god looked now this way and now that, and twice came close to me, but could not find me. 'arethusa! arethusa!' he cried. oh, how i trembled,--like a lamb that hears the wolf growling outside the fold. a cold sweat came over me, my hair flowed down in streams; where my foot stood there was a pool. in short, in less time than it takes to tell it i became a fountain. but in this form alpheus knew me and attempted to mingle his stream with mine. diana cleft the ground, and i, endeavoring to escape him, plunged into the cavern, and through the bowels of the earth came out here in sicily. while i passed through the lower parts of the earth, i saw your proserpine. she was sad, but no longer showing alarm in her countenance. her look was such as became a queen--the queen of erebus; the powerful bride of the monarch of the realms of the dead." when ceres heard this, she stood for a while like one stupefied; then turned her chariot towards heaven, and hastened to present herself before the throne of jove. she told the story of her bereavement, and implored jupiter to interfere to procure the restitution of her daughter. jupiter consented on one condition, namely, that proserpine should not during her stay in the lower world have taken any food; otherwise, the fates forbade her release. accordingly, mercury was sent, accompanied by spring, to demand proserpine of pluto. the wily monarch consented; but, alas! the maiden had taken a pomegranate which pluto offered her, and had sucked the sweet pulp from a few of the seeds. this was enough to prevent her complete release; but a compromise was made, by which she was to pass half the time with her mother, and the rest with her husband pluto. ceres allowed herself to be pacified with this arrangement, and restored the earth to her favor. now she remembered celeus and his family, and her promise to his infant son triptolemus. when the boy grew up, she taught him the use of the plough, and how to sow the seed. she took him in her chariot, drawn by winged dragons, through all the countries of the earth, imparting to mankind valuable grains, and the knowledge of agriculture. after his return, triptolemus built a magnificent temple to ceres in eleusis, and established the worship of the goddess, under the name of the eleusinian mysteries, which, in the splendor and solemnity of their observance, surpassed all other religious celebrations among the greeks. there can be little doubt of this story of ceres and proserpine being an allegory. proserpine signifies the seed-corn which when cast into the ground lies there concealed--that is, she is carried off by the god of the underworld. it reappears--that is, proserpine is restored to her mother. spring leads her back to the light of day. milton alludes to the story of proserpine in "paradise lost," book iv.: ". . . not that fair field of enna where proserpine gathering flowers, herself a fairer flower, by gloomy dis was gathered, which cost ceres all that pain to seek her through the world,-- ... might with this paradise of eden strive." hood, in his "ode to melancholy," uses the same allusion very beautifully: "forgive, if somewhile i forget, in woe to come the present bliss; as frighted proserpine let fall her flowers at the sight of dis." the river alpheus does in fact disappear underground, in part of its course, finding its way through subterranean channels till it again appears on the surface. it was said that the sicilian fountain arethusa was the same stream, which, after passing under the sea, came up again in sicily. hence the story ran that a cup thrown into the alpheus appeared again in arethusa. it is this fable of the underground course of alpheus that coleridge alludes to in his poem of "kubla khan": "in xanadu did kubla khan a stately pleasure-dome decree, where alph, the sacred river, ran through caverns measureless to man, down to a sunless sea." in one of moore's juvenile poems he thus alludes to the same story, and to the practice of throwing garlands or other light objects on his stream to be carried downward by it, and afterwards reproduced at its emerging: "o my beloved, how divinely sweet is the pure joy when kindred spirits meet! like him the river god, whose waters flow, with love their only light, through caves below, wafting in triumph all the flowery braids and festal rings, with which olympic maids have decked his current, as an offering meet to lay at arethusa's shining feet. think, when he meets at last his fountain bride, what perfect love must thrill the blended tide! each lost in each, till mingling into one, their lot the same for shadow or for sun, a type of true love, to the deep they run." the following extract from moore's "rhymes on the road" gives an account of a celebrated picture by albano, at milan, called a dance of loves: "'tis for the theft ef enna's flower from earth these urchins celebrate their dance of mirth, round the green tree, like fays upon a heath;-- those that are nearest linked in order bright, cheek after cheek, like rosebuds in a wreath; and those more distant showing from beneath the others' wings their little eyes of light. while see! among the clouds, their eldest brother, but just flown up, tells with a smile of bliss, this prank of pluto to his charmed mother, who turns to greet the tidings with a kiss." glaucus and scylla glaucus was a fisherman. one day he had drawn his nets to land, and had taken a great many fishes of various kinds. so he emptied his net, and proceeded to sort the fishes on the grass. the place where he stood was a beautiful island in the river, a solitary spot, uninhabited, and not used for pasturage of cattle, nor ever visited by any but himself. on a sudden, the fishes, which had been laid on the grass, began to revive and move their fins as if they were in the water; and while he looked on astonished, they one and all moved off to the water, plunged in, and swam away. he did not know what to make of this, whether some god had done it or some secret power in the herbage. "what herb has such a power?" he exclaimed; and gathering some of it, he tasted it. scarce had the juices of the plant reached his palate when he found himself agitated with a longing desire for the water. he could no longer restrain himself, but bidding farewell to earth, he plunged into the stream. the gods of the water received him graciously, and admitted him to the honor of their society. they obtained the consent of oceanus and tethys, the sovereigns of the sea, that all that was mortal in him should be washed away. a hundred rivers poured their waters over him. then he lost all sense of his former nature and all consciousness. when he recovered, he found himself changed in form and mind. his hair was sea-green, and trailed behind him on the water; his shoulders grew broad, and what had been thighs and legs assumed the form of a fish's tail. the sea- gods complimented him on the change of his appearance, and he fancied himself rather a good-looking personage. one day glaucus saw the beautiful maiden scylla, the favorite of the water-nymphs, rambling on the shore, and when she had found a sheltered nook, laving her limbs in the clear water. he fell in love with her, and showing himself on the surface, spoke to her, saying such things as he thought most likely to win her to stay; for she turned to run immediately on the sight of him, and ran till she had gained a cliff overlooking the sea. here she stopped and turned round to see whether it was a god or a sea animal, and observed with wonder his shape and color. glaucus partly emerging from the water, and supporting himself against a rock, said, "maiden, i am no monster, nor a sea animal, but a god; and neither proteus nor triton ranks higher than i. once i was a mortal, and followed the sea for a living; but now i belong wholly to it." then he told the story of his metamorphosis, and how he had been promoted to his present dignity, and added, "but what avails all this if it fails to move your heart?" he was going on in this strain, but scylla turned and hastened away. glaucus was in despair, but it occurred to him to consult the enchantress circe. accordingly he repaired to her island--the same where afterwards ulysses landed, as we shall see in one of our later stories. after mutual salutations, he said, "goddess, i entreat your pity; you alone can relieve the pain i suffer. the power of herbs i know as well as any one, for it is to them i owe my change of form. i love scylla. i am ashamed to tell you how i have sued and promised to her, and how scornfully she has treated me. i beseech you to use your incantations, or potent herbs, if they are more prevailing, not to cure me of my love,--for that i do not wish,--but to make her share it and yield me a like return." to which circe replied, for she was not insensible to the attractions of the sea-green deity, "you had better pursue a willing object; you are worthy to be sought, instead of having to seek in vain. be not diffident, know your own worth. i protest to you that even i, goddess though i be, and learned in the virtues of plants and spells, should not know how to refuse you. if she scorns you scorn her; meet one who is ready to meet you half way, and thus make a due return to both at once." to these words glaucus replied, "sooner shall trees grow at the bottom of the ocean, and sea-weed on the top of the mountains, than i will cease to love scylla, and her alone." the goddess was indignant, but she could not punish him, neither did she wish to do so, for she liked him too well; so she turned all her wrath against her rival, poor scylla. she took plants of poisonous powers and mixed them together, with incantations and charms. then she passed through the crowd of gambolling beasts, the victims of her art, and proceeded to the coast of sicily, where scylla lived. there was a little bay on the shore to which scylla used to resort, in the heat of the day, to breathe the air of the sea, and to bathe in its waters. here the goddess poured her poisonous mixture, and muttered over it incantations of mighty power. scylla came as usual and plunged into the water up to her waist. what was her horror to perceive a brood of serpents and barking monsters surrounding her! at first she could not imagine they were a part of herself, and tried to run from them, and to drive them away; but as she ran she carried them with her, and when she tried to touch her limbs, she found her hands touch only the yawning jaws of monsters. scylla remained rooted to the spot. her temper grew as ugly as her form, and she took pleasure in devouring hapless mariners who came within her grasp. thus she destroyed six of the companions of ulysses, and tried to wreck the ships of aeneas, till at last she was turned into a rock, and as such still continues to be a terror to mariners. keats, in his "endymion," has given a new version of the ending of "glaucus and scylla." glaucus consents to circe's blandishments, till he by chance is witness to her transactions with her beasts. disgusted with her treachery and cruelty, he tries to escape from her, but is taken and brought back, when with reproaches she banishes him, sentencing him to pass a thousand years in decrepitude and pain. he returns to the sea, and there finds the body of scylla, whom the goddess has not transformed but drowned. glaucus learns that his destiny is that, if he passes his thousand years in collecting all the bodies of drowned lovers, a youth beloved of the gods will appear and help him. endymion fulfils this prophecy, and aids in restoring glaucus to youth, and scylla and all the drowned lovers to life. the following is glaucus's account of his feelings after his "sea- change": "i plunged for life or death. to interknit one's senses with so dense a breathing stuff might seem a work of pain; so not enough can i admire how crystal-smooth it felt, and buoyant round my limbs. at first i dwelt whole days and days in sheer astonishment; forgetful utterly of self-intent, moving but with the mighty ebb and flow. then like a new-fledged bird that first doth show his spreaded feathers to the morrow chill, i tried in fear the pinions of my will. 'twas freedom! and at once i visited the ceaseless wonders of this ocean-bed," etc. --keats. chapter viii pygmalion--dryope-venus and adonis--apollo and hyacinthus pygmalion saw so much to blame in women that he came at last to abhor the sex, and resolved to live unmarried. he was a sculptor, and had made with wonderful skill a statue of ivory, so beautiful that no living woman came anywhere near it. it was indeed the perfect semblance of a maiden that seemed to be alive, and only prevented from moving by modesty. his art was so perfect that it concealed itself and its product looked like the workmanship of nature. pygmalion admired his own work, and at last fell in love with the counterfeit creation. oftentimes he laid his hand upon it as if to assure himself whether it were living or not, and could not even then believe that it was only ivory. he caressed it, and gave it presents such as young girls love,--bright shells and polished stones, little birds and flowers of various hues, beads and amber. he put raiment on its limbs, and jewels on its fingers, and a necklace about its neck. to the ears he hung earrings and strings of pearls upon the breast. her dress became her, and she looked not less charming than when unattired. he laid her on a couch spread with cloths of tyrian dye, and called her his wife, and put her head upon a pillow of the softest feathers, as if she could enjoy their softness. the festival of venus was at hand--a festival celebrated with great pomp at cyprus. victims were offered, the altars smoked, and the odor of incense filled the air. when pygmalion had performed his part in the solemnities, he stood before the altar and timidly said, "ye gods, who can do all things, give me, i pray you, for my wife"--he dared not say "my ivory virgin," but said instead--"one like my ivory virgin." venus, who was present at the festival, heard him and knew the thought he would have uttered; and as an omen of her favor, caused the flame on the altar to shoot up thrice in a fiery point into the air. when he returned home, he went to see his statue, and leaning over the couch, gave a kiss to the mouth. it seemed to be warm. he pressed its lips again, he laid his hand upon the limbs; the ivory felt soft to his touch and yielded to his fingers like the wax of hymettus. while he stands astonished and glad, though doubting, and fears he may be mistaken, again and again with a lover's ardor he touches the object of his hopes. it was indeed alive! the veins when pressed yielded to the finger and again resumed their roundness. then at last the votary of venus found words to thank the goddess, and pressed his lips upon lips as real as his own. the virgin felt the kisses and blushed, and opening her timid eyes to the light, fixed them at the same moment on her lover. venus blessed the nuptials she had formed, and from this union paphos was born, from whom the city, sacred to venus, received its name. schiller, in his poem the "ideals," applies this tale of pygmalion to the love of nature in a youthful heart. the following translation is furnished by a friend: "as once with prayers in passion flowing, pygmalion embraced the stone, till from the frozen marble glowing, the light of feeling o'er him shone, so did i clasp with young devotion bright nature to a poet's heart; till breath and warmth and vital motion seemed through the statue form to dart. "and then, in all my ardor sharing, the silent form expression found; returned my kiss of youthful daring, and understood my heart's quick sound. then lived for me the bright creation, the silver rill with song was rife; the trees, the roses shared sensation, an echo of my boundless life." --s. g. b. dryope dryope and iole were sisters. the former was the wife of andraemon, beloved by her husband, and happy in the birth of her first child. one day the sisters strolled to the bank of a stream that sloped gradually down to the water's edge, while the upland was overgrown with myrtles. they were intending to gather flowers for forming garlands for the altars of the nymphs, and dryope carried her child at her bosom, precious burden, and nursed him as she walked. near the water grew a lotus plant, full of purple flowers. dryope gathered some and offered them to the baby, and iole was about to do the same, when she perceived blood dropping from the places where her sister had broken them off the stem. the plant was no other than the nymph lotis, who, running from a base pursuer, had been changed into this form. this they learned from the country people when it was too late. dryope, horror-struck when she perceived what she had done, would gladly have hastened from the spot, but found her feet rooted to the ground. she tried to pull them away, but moved nothing but her upper limbs. the woodiness crept upward, and by degrees invested her body. in anguish she attempted to tear her hair, but found her hands filled with leaves. the infant felt his mother's bosom begin to harden, and the milk cease to flow. iole looked on at the sad fate of her sister, and could render no assistance. she embraced the growing trunk, as if she would hold back the advancing wood, and would gladly have been enveloped in the same bark. at this moment andraemon, the husband of dryope, with her father, approached; and when they asked for dryope, iole pointed them to the new-formed lotus. they embraced the trunk of the yet warm tree, and showered their kisses on its leaves. now there was nothing left of dryope but her face. her tears still flowed and fell on her leaves, and while she could she spoke. "i am not guilty. i deserve not this fate. i have injured no one. if i speak falsely, may my foliage perish with drought and my trunk be cut down and burned. take this infant and give it to a nurse. let it often be brought and nursed under my branches, and play in my shade; and when he is old enough to talk, let him be taught to call me mother, and to say with sadness, 'my mother lies hid under this bark.' but bid him be careful of river banks, and beware how he plucks flowers, remembering that every bush he sees may be a goddess in disguise. farewell, dear husband, and sister, and father. if you retain any love for me, let not the axe wound me, nor the flocks bite and tear my branches. since i cannot stoop to you, climb up hither and kiss me; and while my lips continue to feel, lift up my child that i may kiss him. i can speak no more, for already the bark advances up my neck, and will soon shoot over me. you need not close my eyes, the bark will close them without your aid." then the lips ceased to move, and life was extinct; but the branches retained for some time longer the vital heat. keats, in "endymion," alludes to dryope thus: "she took a lute from which there pulsing came a lively prelude, fashioning the way in which her voice should wander. 't was a lay more subtle-cadenced, more forest-wild than dryope's lone lulling of her child;" etc. venus and adonis venus, playing one day with her boy cupid, wounded her bosom with one of his arrows. she pushed him away, but the wound was deeper than she thought. before it healed she beheld adonis, and was captivated with him. she no longer took any interest in her favorite resorts--paphos, and cnidos, and amathos, rich in metals. she absented herself even from heaven, for adonis was dearer to her than heaven. him she followed and bore him company. she who used to love to recline in the shade, with no care but to cultivate her charms, now rambles through the woods and over the hills, dressed like the huntress diana; and calls her dogs, and chases hares and stags, or other game that it is safe to hunt, but keeps clear of the wolves and bears, reeking with the slaughter of the herd. she charged adonis, too, to beware of such dangerous animals. "be brave towards the timid," said she; "courage against the courageous is not safe. beware how you expose yourself to danger and put my happiness to risk. attack not the beasts that nature has armed with weapons. i do not value your glory so high as to consent to purchase it by such exposure. your youth, and the beauty that charms venus, will not touch the hearts of lions and bristly boars. think of their terrible claws and prodigious strength! i hate the whole race of them. do you ask me why?" then she told him the story of atalanta and hippomenes, who were changed into lions for their ingratitude to her. having given him this warning, she mounted her chariot drawn by swans, and drove away through the air. but adonis was too noble to heed such counsels. the dogs had roused a wild boar from his lair, and the youth threw his spear and wounded the animal with a sidelong stroke. the beast drew out the weapon with his jaws, and rushed after adonis, who turned and ran; but the boar overtook him, and buried his tusks in his side, and stretched him dying upon the plain. venus, in her swan-drawn chariot, had not yet reached cyprus, when she heard coming up through mid-air the groans of her beloved, and turned her white-winged coursers back to earth. as she drew near and saw from on high his lifeless body bathed in blood, she alighted and, bending over it, beat her breast and tore her hair. reproaching the fates, she said, "yet theirs shall be but a partial triumph; memorials of my grief shall endure, and the spectacle of your death, my adonis, and of my lamentations shall be annually renewed. your blood shall be changed into a flower; that consolation none can envy me." thus speaking, she sprinkled nectar on the blood; and as they mingled, bubbles rose as in a pool on which raindrops fall, and in an hour's time there sprang up a flower of bloody hue like that of the pomegranate. but it is short-lived. it is said the wind blows the blossoms open, and afterwards blows the petals away; so it is called anemone, or wind flower, from the cause which assists equally in its production and its decay. milton alludes to the story of venus and adonis in his "comus": "beds of hyacinth and roses where young adonis oft reposes, waxing well of his deep wound in slumber soft, and on the ground sadly sits th' assyrian queen;" etc. apollo and hyacinthus apollo was passionately fond of a youth named hyacinthus. he accompanied him in his sports, carried the nets when he went fishing, led the dogs when he went to hunt, followed him in his excursions in the mountains, and neglected for him his lyre and his arrows. one day they played a game of quoits together, and apollo, heaving aloft the discus, with strength mingled with skill, sent it high and far. hyacinthus watched it as it flew, and excited with the sport ran forward to seize it, eager to make his throw, when the quoit bounded from the earth and struck him in the forehead. he fainted and fell. the god, as pale as himself, raised him and tried all his art to stanch the wound and retain the flitting life, but all in vain; the hurt was past the power of medicine. as when one has broken the stem of a lily in the garden it hangs its head and turns its flowers to the earth, so the head of the dying boy, as if too heavy for his neck, fell over on his shoulder. "thou diest, hyacinth," so spoke phoebus, "robbed of thy youth by me. thine is the suffering, mine the crime. would that i could die for thee! but since that may not be, thou shalt live with me in memory and in song. my lyre shall celebrate thee, my song shall tell thy fate, and thou shalt become a flower inscribed with my regrets." while apollo spoke, behold the blood which had flowed on the ground and stained the herbage ceased to be blood; but a flower of hue more beautiful than the tyrian sprang up, resembling the lily, if it were not that this is purple and that silvery white. [footnote: it is evidently not our modern hyacinth that is here described. it is perhaps some species of iris, or perhaps of larkspur or of pansy.] and this was not enough for phoebus; but to confer still greater honor, he marked the petals with his sorrow, and inscribed "ah! ah!" upon them, as we see to this day. the flower bears the name of hyacinthus, and with every returning spring revives the memory of his fate. it was said that zephyrus (the west wind), who was also fond of hyacinthus and jealous of his preference of apollo, blew the quoit out of its course to make it strike hyacinthus. keats alludes to this in his "endymion," where he describes the lookers-on at the game of quoits: "or they might watch the quoit-pitchers, intent on either side, pitying the sad death of hyacinthus, when the cruel breath of zephyr slew him; zephyr penitent, who now ere phoebus mounts the firmament, fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain." an allusion to hyacinthus will also be recognized in milton's "lycidas": "like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe." chapter ix ceyx and halcyone: or, the halcyon birds ceyx was king of thessaly, where he reigned in peace, without violence or wrong. he was son of hesperus, the day-star, and the glow of his beauty reminded one of his father. halcyone, the daughter of aeolus, was his wife, and devotedly attached to him. now ceyx was in deep affliction for the loss of his brother, and direful prodigies following his brother's death made him feel as if the gods were hostile to him. he thought best, therefore, to make a voyage to carlos in ionia, to consult the oracle of apollo. but as soon as he disclosed his intention to his wife halcyone, a shudder ran through her frame, and her face grew deadly pale. "what fault of mine, dearest husband, has turned your affection from me? where is that love of me that used to be uppermost in your thoughts? have you learned to feel easy in the absence of halcyone? would you rather have me away?" she also endeavored to discourage him, by describing the violence of the winds, which she had known familiarly when she lived at home in her father's house,--aeolus being the god of the winds, and having as much as he could do to restrain them. "they rush together," said she, "with such fury that fire flashes from the conflict. but if you must go," she added, "dear husband, let me go with you, otherwise i shall suffer not only the real evils which you must encounter, but those also which my fears suggest." these words weighed heavily on the mind of king ceyx, and it was no less his own wish than hers to take her with him, but he could not bear to expose her to the dangers of the sea. he answered, therefore, consoling her as well as he could, and finished with these words: "i promise, by the rays of my father the day-star, that if fate permits i will return before the moon shall have twice rounded her orb." when he had thus spoken, he ordered the vessel to be drawn out of the shiphouse, and the oars and sails to be put aboard. when halcyone saw these preparations she shuddered, as if with a presentiment of evil. with tears and sobs she said farewell, and then fell senseless to the ground. ceyx would still have lingered, but now the young men grasped their oars and pulled vigorously through the waves, with long and measured strokes. halcyone raised her streaming eyes, and saw her husband standing on the deck, waving his hand to her. she answered his signal till the vessel had receded so far that she could no longer distinguish his form from the rest. when the vessel itself could no more be seen, she strained her eyes to catch the last glimmer of the sail, till that too disappeared. then, retiring to her chamber, she threw herself on her solitary couch. meanwhile they glide out of the harbor, and the breeze plays among the ropes. the seamen draw in their oars, and hoist their sails. when half or less of their course was passed, as night drew on, the sea began to whiten with swelling waves, and the east wind to blow a gale. the master gave the word to take in sail, but the storm forbade obedience, for such is the roar of the winds and waves his orders are unheard. the men, of their own accord, busy themselves to secure the oars, to strengthen the ship, to reef the sail. while they thus do what to each one seems best, the storm increases. the shouting of the men, the rattling of the shrouds, and the dashing of the waves, mingle with the roar of the thunder. the swelling sea seems lifted up to the heavens, to scatter its foam among the clouds; then sinking away to the bottom assumes the color of the shoal--a stygian blackness. the vessel shares all these changes. it seems like a wild beast that rushes on the spears of the hunters. rain falls in torrents, as if the skies were coming down to unite with the sea. when the lightning ceases for a moment, the night seems to add its own darkness to that of the storm; then comes the flash, rending the darkness asunder, and lighting up all with a glare. skill fails, courage sinks, and death seems to come on every wave. the men are stupefied with terror. the thought of parents, and kindred, and pledges left at home, comes over their minds. ceyx thinks of halcyone. no name but hers is on his lips, and while he yearns for her, he yet rejoices in her absence. presently the mast is shattered by a stroke of lightning, the rudder broken, and the triumphant surge curling over looks down upon, the wreck, then falls, and crushes it to fragments. some of the seamen, stunned by the stroke, sink, and rise no more; others cling to fragments of the wreck. ceyx, with the hand that used to grasp the sceptre, holds fast to a plank, calling for help,--alas, in vain,--upon his father and his father-in-law. but oftenest on his lips was the name of halcyone. to her his thoughts cling. he prays that the waves may bear his body to her sight, and that it may receive burial at her hands. at length the waters overwhelm him, and he sinks. the day-star looked dim that night. since it could not leave the heavens, it shrouded its face with clouds. in the meanwhile halcyone, ignorant of all these horrors, counted the days till her husband's promised return. now she gets ready the garments which he shall put on, and now what she shall wear when he arrives. to all the gods she offers frequent incense, but more than all to juno. for her husband, who was no more, she prayed incessantly: that he might be safe; that he might come home; that he might not, in his absence, see any one that he would love better than her. but of all these prayers, the last was the only one destined to be granted. the goddess, at length, could not bear any longer to be pleaded with for one already dead, and to have hands raised to her altars that ought rather to be offering funeral rites. so, calling iris, she said, "iris, my faithful messenger, go to the drowsy dwelling of somnus, and tell him to send a vision to halcyone in the form of ceyx, to make known to her the event." iris puts on her robe of many colors, and tingeing the sky with her bow, seeks the palace of the king of sleep. near the cimmerian country, a mountain cave is the abode of the dull god somnus. here phoebus dares not come, either rising, at midday, or setting. clouds and shadows are exhaled from the ground, and the light glimmers faintly. the bird of dawning, with crested head, never there calls aloud to aurora, nor watchful dog, nor more sagacious goose disturbs the silence. no wild beast, nor cattle, nor branch moved with the wind, nor sound of human conversation, breaks the stillness. silence reigns there; but from the bottom of the rock the river lethe flows, and by its murmur invites to sleep. poppies grow abundantly before the door of the cave, and other herbs, from whose juices night collects slumbers, which she scatters over the darkened earth. there is no gate to the mansion, to creak on its hinges, nor any watchman; but in the midst a couch of black ebony, adorned with black plumes and black curtains. there the god reclines, his limbs relaxed with sleep. around him lie dreams, resembling all various forms, as many as the harvest bears stalks, or the forest leaves, or the seashore sand grains. as soon as the goddess entered and brushed away the dreams that hovered around her, her brightness lit up all the cave. the god, scarce opening his eyes, and ever and anon dropping his beard upon his breast, at last shook himself free from himself, and leaning on his arm, inquired her errand,--for he knew who she was. she answered, "somnus, gentlest of the gods, tranquillizer of minds and soother of care-worn hearts, juno sends you her commands that you despatch a dream to halcyone, in the city of trachine, representing her lost husband and all the events of the wreck." having delivered her message, iris hasted away, for she could not longer endure the stagnant air, and as she felt drowsiness creeping over her, she made her escape, and returned by her bow the way she came. then somnus called one of his numerous sons,-- morpheus,--the most expert in counterfeiting forms, and in imitating the walk, the countenance, and mode of speaking, even the clothes and attitudes most characteristic of each. but he only imitates men, leaving it to another to personate birds, beasts, and serpents. him they call icelos; and phantasos is a third, who turns himself into rocks, waters, woods, and other things without life. these wait upon kings and great personages in their sleeping hours, while others move among the common people. somnus chose, from all the brothers, morpheus, to perform the command of iris; then laid his head on his pillow and yielded himself to grateful repose. morpheus flew, making no noise with his wings, and soon came to the haemonian city, where, laying aside his wings, he assumed the form of ceyx. under that form, but pale like a dead man, naked, he stood before the couch of the wretched wife. his beard seemed soaked with water, and water trickled from his drowned locks. leaning over the bed, tears streaming from his eyes, he said, "do you recognize your ceyx, unhappy wife, or has death too much changed my visage? behold me, know me, your husband's shade, instead of himself. your prayers, halcyone, availed me nothing. i am dead. no more deceive yourself with vain hopes of my return. the stormy winds sunk my ship in the aegean sea, waves filled my mouth while it called aloud on you. no uncertain messenger tells you this, no vague rumor brings it to your ears. i come in person, a shipwrecked man, to tell you my fate. arise! give me tears, give me lamentations, let me not go down to tartarus unwept." to these words morpheus added the voice, which seemed to be that of her husband; he seemed to pour forth genuine tears; his hands had the gestures of ceyx. halcyone, weeping, groaned, and stretched out her arms in her sleep, striving to embrace his body, but grasping only the air. "stay!" she cried; "whither do you fly? let us go together." her own voice awakened her. starting up, she gazed eagerly around, to see if he was still present, for the servants, alarmed by her cries, had brought a light. when she found him not, she smote her breast and rent her garments. she cares not to unbind her hair, but tears it wildly. her nurse asks what is the cause of her grief. "halcyone is no more," she answers, "she perished with her ceyx. utter not words of comfort, he is shipwrecked and dead. i have seen him, i have recognized him. i stretched out my hands to seize him and detain him. his shade vanished, but it was the true shade of my husband. not with the accustomed features, not with the beauty that was his, but pale, naked, and with his hair wet with sea-water, he appeared to wretched me. here, in this very spot, the sad vision stood,"--and she looked to find the mark of his footsteps. "this it was, this that my presaging mind foreboded, when i implored him not to leave me, to trust himself to the waves. oh, how i wish, since thou wouldst go, thou hadst taken me with thee! it would have been far better. then i should have had no remnant of life to spend without thee, nor a separate death to die. if i could bear to live and struggle to endure, i should be more cruel to myself than the sea has been to me. but i will not struggle, i will not be separated from thee, unhappy husband. this time, at least, i will keep thee company. in death, if one tomb may not include us, one epitaph shall; if i may not lay my ashes with thine, my name, at least, shall not be separated." her grief forbade more words, and these were broken with tears and sobs. it was now morning. she went to the seashore, and sought the spot where she last saw him, on his departure. "while he lingered here, and cast off his tacklings, he gave me his last kiss." while she reviews every object, and strives to recall every incident, looking out over the sea, she descries an indistinct object floating in the water. at first she was in doubt what it was, but by degrees the waves bore it nearer, and it was plainly the body of a man. though unknowing of whom, yet, as it was of some shipwrecked one, she was deeply moved, and gave it her tears, saying, "alas! unhappy one, and unhappy, if such there be, thy wife!" borne by the waves, it came nearer. as she more and more nearly views it, she trembles more and more. now, now it approaches the shore. now marks that she recognizes appear. it is her husband! stretching out her trembling hands towards it, she exclaims, "o dearest husband, is it thus you return to me?" there was built out from the shore a mole, constructed to break the assaults of the sea, and stem its violent ingress. she leaped upon this barrier and (it was wonderful she could do so) she flew, and striking the air with wings produced on the instant, skimmed along the surface of the water, an unhappy bird. as she flew, her throat poured forth sounds full of grief, and like the voice of one lamenting. when she touched the mute and bloodless body, she enfolded its beloved limbs with her new-formed wings, and tried to give kisses with her horny beak. whether ceyx felt it, or whether it was only the action of the waves, those who looked on doubted, but the body seemed to raise its head. but indeed he did feel it, and by the pitying gods both of them were changed into birds. they mate and have their young ones. for seven placid days, in winter time, halcyone broods over her nest, which floats upon the sea. then the way is safe to seamen. aeolus guards the winds and keeps them from disturbing the deep. the sea is given up, for the time, to his grandchildren. the following lines from byron's "bride of abydos" might seem borrowed from the concluding part of this description, if it were not stated that the author derived the suggestion from observing the motion of a floating corpse: "as shaken on his restless pillow, his head heaves with the heaving billow, that hand, whose motion is not life, yet feebly seems to menace strife, flung by the tossing tide on high, then levelled with the wave ..." milton in his "hymn on the nativity," thus alludes to the fable of the halcyon: "but peaceful was the night wherein the prince of light his reign of peace upon the earth began; the winds with wonder whist smoothly the waters kist whispering new joys to the mild ocean, who now hath quite forgot to rave while birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave." keats, also, in "endymion," says: "o magic sleep! o comfortable bird that broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind till it is hushed and smooth." chapter x vertumnus and pomona the hamadryads were wood-nymphs. pomona was of this class, and no one excelled her in love of the garden and the culture of fruit. she cared not for orests and rivers, but loved the cultivated country, and trees that bear delicious apples. her right hand bore for its weapon not a javelin, but a pruning-knife. armed with this, she busied herself at one time to repress the too luxuriant growths, and curtail the branches that straggled out of place; at another, to split the twig and insert therein a graft, making the branch adopt a nursling not its own. she took care, too, that her favorites should not suffer from drought, and led streams of water by them, that the thirsty roots might drink. this occupation was her pursuit, her passion; and she was free from that which venus inspires. she was not without fear of the country people, and kept her orchard locked, and allowed not men to enter. the fauns and satyrs would have given all they possessed to win her, and so would old sylvanus, who looks young for his years, and pan, who wears a garland of pine leaves around his head. but vertumnus loved her best of all; yet he sped no better than the rest. o how often, in the disguise of a reaper, did he bring her corn in a basket, and looked the very image of a reaper! with a hay band tied round him, one would think he had just come from turning over the grass. sometimes he would have an ox-goad in his hand, and you would have said he had just unyoked his weary oxen. now he bore a pruning-hook, and personated a vine-dresser; and again, with a ladder on his shoulder, he seemed as if he was going to gather apples. sometimes he trudged along as a discharged soldier, and again he bore a fishing-rod, as if going to fish. in this way he gained admission to her again and again, and fed his passion with the sight of her. one day he came in the guise of an old woman, her gray hair surmounted with a cap, and a staff in her hand. she entered the garden and admired the fruit. "it does you credit, my dear," she said, and kissed her, not exactly with an old woman's kiss. she sat down on a bank, and looked up at the branches laden with fruit which hung over her. opposite was an elm entwined with a vine loaded with swelling grapes. she praised the tree and its associated vine, equally. "but," said she, "if the tree stood alone, and had no vine clinging to it, it would have nothing to attract or offer us but its useless leaves. and equally the vine, if it were not twined round the elm, would lie prostrate on the ground. why will you not take a lesson from the tree and the vine, and consent to unite yourself with some one? i wish you would. helen herself had not more numerous suitors, nor penelope, the wife of shrewd ulysses. even while you spurn them, they court you,--rural deities and others of every kind that frequent these mountains. but if you are prudent and want to make a good alliance, and will let an old woman advise you,--who loves you better than you have any idea of,--dismiss all the rest and accept vertumnus, on my recommendation. i know him as well as he knows himself. he is not a wandering deity, but belongs to these mountains. nor is he like too many of the lovers nowadays, who love any one they happen to see; he loves you, and you only. add to this, he is young and handsome, and has the art of assuming any shape he pleases, and can make himself just what you command him. moreover, he loves the same things that you do, delights in gardening, and handles your apples with admiration. but now he cares nothing for fruits nor flowers, nor anything else, but only yourself. take pity on him, and fancy him speaking now with my mouth. remember that the gods punish cruelty, and that venus hates a hard heart, and will visit such offences sooner or later. to prove this, let me tell you a story, which is well known in cyprus to be a fact; and i hope it will have the effect to make you more merciful. "iphis was a young man of humble parentage, who saw and loved anaxarete, a noble lady of the ancient family of teucer. he struggled long with his passion, but when he found he could not subdue it, he came a suppliant to her mansion. first he told his passion to her nurse, and begged her as she loved her foster-child to favor his suit. and then he tried to win her domestics to his side. sometimes he committed his vows to written tablets, and often hung at her door garlands which he had moistened with his tears. he stretched himself on her threshold, and uttered his complaints to the cruel bolts and bars. she was deafer than the surges which rise in the november gale; harder than steel from the german forges, or a rock that still clings to its native cliff. she mocked and laughed at him, adding cruel words to her ungentle treatment, and gave not the slightest gleam of hope. "iphis could not any longer endure the torments of hopeless love, and, standing before her doors, he spake these last words: 'anaxarete, you have conquered, and shall no longer have to bear my importunities. enjoy your triumph! sing songs of joy, and bind your forehead with laurel,--you have conquered! i die; stony heart, rejoice! this at least i can do to gratify you and force you to praise me; and thus shall i prove that the love of you left me but with life. nor will i leave it to rumor to tell you of my death. i will come myself, and you shall see me die, and feast your eyes on the spectacle. yet, o ye gods, who look down on mortal woes, observe my fate! i ask but this: let me be remembered in coming ages, and add those years to my fame which you have reft from my life. thus he said, and, turning his pale face and weeping eyes towards her mansion, he fastened a rope to the gatepost, on which he had often hung garlands, and putting his head into the noose, he murmured, 'this garland at least will please you, cruel girl!' and falling hung suspended with his neck broken. as he fell he struck against the gate, and the sound was as the sound of a groan. the servants opened the door and found him dead, and with exclamations of pity raised him and carried him home to his mother, for his father was not living. she received the dead body of her son, and folded the cold form to her bosom, while she poured forth the sad words which bereaved mothers utter. the mournful funeral passed through the town, and the pale corpse was borne on a bier to the place of the funeral pile. by chance the home of anaxarete was on the street where the procession passed, and the lamentations of the mourners met the ears of her whom the avenging deity had already marked for punishment. "'let us see this sad procession,' said she, and mounted to a turret, whence through an open window she looked upon the funeral. scarce had her eyes rested upon the form of iphis stretched on the bier, when they began to stiffen, and the warm blood in her body to become cold. endeavoring to step back, she found she could not move her feet; trying to turn away her face, she tried in vain; and by degrees all her limbs became stony like her heart. that you may not doubt the fact, the statue still remains, and stands in the temple of venus at salamis, in the exact form of the lady. now think of these things, my dear, and lay aside your scorn and your delays, and accept a lover. so may neither the vernal frosts blight your young fruits, nor furious winds scatter your blossoms!" when vertumnus had spoken thus, he dropped the disguise of an old woman, and stood before her in his proper person, as a comely youth. it appeared to her like the sun bursting through a cloud. he would have renewed his entreaties, but there was no need; his arguments and the sight of his true form prevailed, and the nymph no longer resisted, but owned a mutual flame. pomona was the especial patroness of the apple-orchard, and as such she was invoked by phillips, the author of a poem on cider, in blank verse. thomson in the "seasons" alludes to him: "phillips, pomona's bard, the second thou who nobly durst, in rhyme-unfettered verse, with british freedom, sing the british song." but pomona was also regarded as presiding over other fruits, and as such is invoked by thomson: "bear me, pomona, to thy citron groves, to where the lemon and the piercing lime, with the deep orange, glowing through the green, their lighter glories blend. lay me reclined beneath the spreading tamarind, that shakes, fanned by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit." chapter xi cupid and psyche a certain king and queen had three daughters. the charms of the two elder were more than common, but the beauty of the youngest was so wonderful that the poverty of language is unable to express its due praise. the fame of her beauty was so great that strangers from neighboring countries came in crowds to enjoy the sight, and looked on her with amazement, paying her that homage which is due only to venus herself. in fact venus found her altars deserted, while men turned their devotion to this young virgin. as she passed along, the people sang her praises, and strewed her way with chaplets and flowers. this perversion of homage due only to the immortal powers to the exaltation of a mortal gave great offence to the real venus. shaking her ambrosial locks with indignation, she exclaimed, "am i then to be eclipsed in my honors by a mortal girl? in vain then did that royal shepherd, whose judgment was approved by jove himself, give me the palm of beauty over my illustrious rivals, pallas and juno. but she shall not so quietly usurp my honors. i will give her cause to repent of so unlawful a beauty." thereupon she calls her winged son cupid, mischievous enough in his own nature, and rouses and provokes him yet more by her complaints. she points out psyche to him and says, "my dear son, punish that contumacious beauty; give thy mother a revenge as sweet as her injuries are great; infuse into the bosom of that haughty girl a passion for some low, mean, unworthy being, so that she may reap a mortification as great as her present exultation and triumph." cupid prepared to obey the commands of his mother. there are two fountains in venus's garden, one of sweet waters, the other of bitter. cupid filled two amber vases, one from each fountain, and suspending them from the top of his quiver, hastened to the chamber of psyche, whom he found asleep. he shed a few drops from the bitter fountain over her lips, though the sight of her almost moved him to pity; then touched her side with the point of his arrow. at the touch she awoke, and opened eyes upon cupid (himself invisible), which so startled him that in his confusion he wounded himself with his own arrow. heedless of his wound, his whole thought now was to repair the mischief he had done, and he poured the balmy drops of joy over all her silken ringlets. psyche, henceforth frowned upon by venus, derived no benefit from all her charms. true, all eyes were cast eagerly upon her, and every mouth spoke her praises; but neither king, royal youth, nor plebeian presented himself to demand her in marriage. her two elder sisters of moderate charms had now long been married to two royal princes; but psyche, in her lonely apartment, deplored her solitude, sick of that beauty which, while it procured abundance of flattery, had failed to awaken love. her parents, afraid that they had unwittingly incurred the anger of the gods, consulted the oracle of apollo, and received this answer: "the virgin is destined for the bride of no mortal lover. her future husband awaits her on the top of the mountain. he is a monster whom neither gods nor men can resist." this dreadful decree of the oracle filled all the people with dismay, and her parents abandoned themselves to grief. but psyche said, "why, my dear parents, do you now lament me? you should rather have grieved when the people showered upon me undeserved honors, and with one voice called me a venus. i now perceive that i am a victim to that name. i submit. lead me to that rock to which my unhappy fate has destined me." accordingly, all things being prepared, the royal maid took her place in the procession, which more resembled a funeral than a nuptial pomp, and with her parents, amid the lamentations of the people, ascended the mountain, on the summit of which they left her alone, and with sorrowful hearts returned home. while psyche stood on the ridge of the mountain, panting with fear and with eyes full of tears, the gentle zephyr raised her from the earth and bore her with an easy motion into a flowery dale. by degrees her mind became composed, and she laid herself down on the grassy bank to sleep. when she awoke refreshed with sleep, she looked round and beheld near by a pleasant grove of tall and stately trees. she entered it, and in the midst discovered a fountain, sending forth clear and crystal waters, and fast by, a magnificent palace whose august front impressed the spectator that it was not the work of mortal hands, but the happy retreat of some god. drawn by admiration and wonder, she approached the building and ventured to enter. every object she met filled her with pleasure and amazement. golden pillars supported the vaulted roof, and the walls were enriched with carvings and paintings representing beasts of the chase and rural scenes, adapted to delight the eye of the beholder. proceeding onward, she perceived that besides the apartments of state there were others filled with all manner of treasures, and beautiful and precious productions of nature and art. while her eyes were thus occupied, a voice addressed her, though she saw no one, uttering these words: "sovereign lady, all that you see is yours. we whose voices you hear are your servants and shall obey all your commands with our utmost care and diligence. retire, therefore, to your chamber and repose on your bed of down, and when you see fit repair to the bath. supper awaits you in the adjoining alcove when it pleases you to take your seat there." psyche gave ear to the admonitions of her vocal attendants, and after repose and the refreshment of the bath, seated herself in the alcove, where a table immediately presented itself, without any visible aid from waiters or servants, and covered with the greatest delicacies of food and the most nectareous wines. her ears too were feasted with music from invisible performers; of whom one sang, another played on the lute, and all closed in the wonderful harmony of a full chorus. she had not yet seen her destined husband. he came only in the hours of darkness and fled before the dawn of morning, but his accents were full of love, and inspired a like passion in her. she often begged him to stay and let her behold him, but he would not consent. on the contrary he charged her to make no attempt to see him, for it was his pleasure, for the best of reasons, to keep concealed. "why should you wish to behold me?" he said; "have you any doubt of my love? have you any wish ungratified? if you saw me, perhaps you would fear me, perhaps adore me, but all i ask of you is to love me. i would rather you would love me as an equal than adore me as a god." this reasoning somewhat quieted psyche for a time, and while the novelty lasted she felt quite happy. but at length the thought of her parents, left in ignorance of her fate, and of her sisters, precluded from sharing with her the delights of her situation, preyed on her mind and made her begin to feel her palace as but a splendid prison. when her husband came one night, she told him her distress, and at last drew from him an unwilling consent that her sisters should be brought to see her. so, calling zephyr, she acquainted him with her husband's commands, and he, promptly obedient, soon brought them across the mountain down to their sister's valley. they embraced her and she returned their caresses. "come," said psyche, "enter with me my house and refresh yourselves with whatever your sister has to offer." then taking their hands she led them into her golden palace, and committed them to the care of her numerous train of attendant voices, to refresh them in her baths and at her table, and to show them all her treasures. the view of these celestial delights caused envy to enter their bosoms, at seeing their young sister possessed of such state and splendor, so much exceeding their own. they asked her numberless questions, among others what sort of a person her husband was. psyche replied that he was a beautiful youth, who generally spent the daytime in hunting upon the mountains. the sisters, not satisfied with this reply, soon made her confess that she had never seen him. then they proceeded to fill her bosom with dark suspicions. "call to mind," they said, "the pythian oracle that declared you destined to marry a direful and tremendous monster. the inhabitants of this valley say that your husband is a terrible and monstrous serpent, who nourishes you for a while with dainties that he may by and by devour you. take our advice. provide yourself with a lamp and a sharp knife; put them in concealment that your husband may not discover them, and when he is sound asleep, slip out of bed, bring forth your lamp, and see for yourself whether what they say is true or not. if it is, hesitate not to cut off the monster's head, and thereby recover your liberty." psyche resisted these persuasions as well as she could, but they did not fail to have their effect on her mind, and when her sisters were gone, their words and her own curiosity were too strong for her to resist. so she prepared her lamp and a sharp knife, and hid them out of sight of her husband. when he had fallen into his first sleep, she silently rose and uncovering her lamp beheld not a hideous monster, but the most beautiful and charming of the gods, with his golden ringlets wandering over his snowy neck and crimson cheek, with two dewy wings on his shoulders, whiter than snow, and with shining feathers like the tender blossoms of spring. as she leaned the lamp over to have a nearer view of his face a drop of burning oil fell on the shoulder of the god, startled with which he opened his eyes and fixed them full upon her; then, without saying one word, he spread his white wings and flew out of the window. psyche, in vain endeavoring to follow him, fell from the window to the ground. cupid, beholding her as she lay in the dust, stopped his flight for an instant and said, "o foolish psyche, is it thus you repay my love? after having disobeyed my mother's commands and made you my wife, will you think me a monster and cut off my head? but go; return to your sisters, whose advice you seem to think preferable to mine. i inflict no other punishment on you than to leave you forever. love cannot dwell with suspicion." so saying, he fled away, leaving poor psyche prostrate on the ground, filling the place with mournful lamentations. when she had recovered some degree of composure she looked around her, but the palace and gardens had vanished, and she found herself in the open field not far from the city where her sisters dwelt. she repaired thither and told them the whole story of her misfortunes, at which, pretending to grieve, those spiteful creatures inwardly rejoiced. "for now," said they, "he will perhaps choose one of us." with this idea, without saying a word of her intentions, each of them rose early the next morning and ascended the mountains, and having reached the top, called upon zephyr to receive her and bear her to his lord; then leaping up, and not being sustained by zephyr, fell down the precipice and was dashed to pieces. psyche meanwhile wandered day and night, without food or repose, in search of her husband. casting her eyes on a lofty mountain having on its brow a magnificent temple, she sighed and said to herself, "perhaps my love, my lord, inhabits there," and directed her steps thither. she had no sooner entered than she saw heaps of corn, some in loose ears and some in sheaves, with mingled ears of barley. scattered about, lay sickles and rakes, and all the instruments of harvest, without order, as if thrown carelessly out of the weary reapers' hands in the sultry hours of the day. this unseemly confusion the pious psyche put an end to, by separating and sorting everything to its proper place and kind, believing that she ought to neglect none of the gods, but endeavor by her piety to engage them all in her behalf. the holy ceres, whose temple it was, finding her so religiously employed, thus spoke to her: "o psyche, truly worthy of our pity, though i cannot shield you from the frowns of venus, yet i can teach you how best to allay her displeasure. go, then, and voluntarily surrender yourself to your lady and sovereign, and try by modesty and submission to win her forgiveness, and perhaps her favor will restore you the husband you have lost." psyche obeyed the commands of ceres and took her way to the temple of venus, endeavoring to fortify her mind and ruminating on what she should say and how best propitiate the angry goddess, feeling that the issue was doubtful and perhaps fatal. venus received her with angry countenance. "most undutiful and faithless of servants," said she, "do you at last remember that you really have a mistress? or have you rather come to see your sick husband, yet laid up of the wound given him by his loving wife? you are so ill-favored and disagreeable that the only way you can merit your lover must be by dint of industry and diligence. i will make trial of your housewifery." then she ordered psyche to be led to the storehouse of her temple, where was laid up a great quantity of wheat, barley, millet, vetches, beans, and lentils prepared for food for her pigeons, and said, "take and separate all these grains, putting all of the same kind in a parcel by themselves, and see that you get it done before evening." then venus departed and left her to her task. but psyche, in a perfect consternation at the enormous work, sat stupid and silent, without moving a finger to the inextricable heap. while she sat despairing, cupid stirred up the little ant, a native of the fields, to take compassion on her. the leader of the ant hill, followed by whole hosts of his six-legged subjects, approached the heap, and with the utmost diligence, taking grain by grain, they separated the pile, sorting each kind to its parcel; and when it was all done, they vanished out of sight in a moment. venus at the approach of twilight returned from the banquet of the gods, breathing odors and crowned with roses. seeing the task done, she exclaimed, "this is no work of yours, wicked one, but his, whom to your own and his misfortune you have enticed." so saying, she threw her a piece of black bread for her supper and went away. next morning venus ordered psyche to be called and said to her, "behold yonder grove which stretches along the margin of the water. there you will find sheep feeding without a shepherd, with golden-shining fleeces on their backs. go, fetch me a sample of that precious wool gathered from every one of their fleeces." psyche obediently went to the riverside, prepared to do her best to execute the command. but the river god inspired the reeds with harmonious murmurs, which seemed to say, "o maiden, severely tried, tempt not the dangerous flood, nor venture among the formidable rams on the other side, for as long as they are under the influence of the rising sun, they burn with a cruel rage to destroy mortals with their sharp horns or rude teeth. but when the noontide sun has driven the cattle to the shade, and the serene spirit of the flood has lulled them to rest, you may then cross in safety, and you will find the woolly gold sticking to the bushes and the trunks of the trees." thus the compassionate river god gave psyche instructions how to accomplish her task, and by observing his directions she soon returned to venus with her arms full of the golden fleece; but she received not the approbation of her implacable mistress, who said, "i know very well it is by none of your own doings that you have succeeded in this task, and i am not satisfied yet that you have any capacity to make yourself useful. but i have another task for you. here, take this box and go your way to the infernal shades, and give this box to proserpine and say, 'my mistress venus desires you to send her a little of your beauty, for in tending her sick son she has lost some of her own.' be not too long on your errand, for i must paint myself with it to appear at the circle of the gods and goddesses this evening." psyche was now satisfied that her destruction was at hand, being obliged to go with her own feet directly down to erebus. wherefore, to make no delay of what was not to be avoided, she goes to the top of a high tower to precipitate herself headlong, thus to descend the shortest way to the shades below. but a voice from the tower said to her, "why, poor unlucky girl, dost thou design to put an end to thy days in so dreadful a manner? and what cowardice makes thee sink under this last danger who hast been so miraculously supported in all thy former?" then the voice told her how by a certain cave she might reach the realms of pluto, and how to avoid all the dangers of the road, to pass by cerberus, the three-headed dog, and prevail on charon, the ferryman, to take her across the black river and bring her back again. but the voice added, "when proserpine has given you the box filled with her beauty, of all things this is chiefly to be observed by you, that you never once open or look into the box nor allow your curiosity to pry into the treasure of the beauty of the goddesses." psyche, encouraged by this advice, obeyed it in all things, and taking heed to her ways travelled safely to the kingdom of pluto. she was admitted to the palace of proserpine, and without accepting the delicate seat or delicious banquet that was offered her, but contented with coarse bread for her food, she delivered her message from venus. presently the box was returned to her, shut and filled with the precious commodity. then she returned the way she came, and glad was she to come out once more into the light of day. but having got so far successfully through her dangerous task, a longing desire seized her to examine the contents of the box. "what," said she, "shall i, the carrier of this divine beauty, not take the least bit to put on my cheeks to appear to more advantage in the eyes of my beloved husband!" so she carefully opened the box, but found nothing there of any beauty at all, but an infernal and truly stygian sleep, which being thus set free from its prison, took possession of her, and she fell down in the midst of the road, a sleepy corpse without sense or motion. but cupid, being now recovered from his wound, and not able longer to bear the absence of his beloved psyche, slipping through the smallest crack of the window of his chamber which happened to be left open, flew to the spot where psyche lay, and gathering up the sleep from her body closed it again in the box, and waked psyche with a light touch of one of his arrows. "again," said he, "hast thou almost perished by the same curiosity. but now perform exactly the task imposed on you by my mother, and i will take care of the rest." then cupid, as swift as lightning penetrating the heights of heaven, presented himself before jupiter with his supplication. jupiter lent a favoring ear, and pleaded the cause of the lovers so earnestly with venus that he won her consent. on this he sent mercury to bring psyche up to the heavenly assembly, and when she arrived, handing her a cup of ambrosia, he said, "drink this, psyche, and be immortal; nor shall cupid ever break away from the knot in which he is tied, but these nuptials shall be perpetual." thus psyche became at last united to cupid, and in due time they had a daughter born to them whose name was pleasure. the fable of cupid and psyche is usually considered allegorical. the greek name for a butterfly is psyche, and the same word means the soul. there is no illustration of the immortality of the soul so striking and beautiful as the butterfly, bursting on brilliant wings from the tomb in which it has lain, after a dull, grovelling, caterpillar existence, to flutter in the blaze of day and feed on the most fragrant and delicate productions of the spring. psyche, then, is the human soul, which is purified by sufferings and misfortunes, and is thus prepared for the enjoyment of true and pure happiness. in works of art psyche is represented as a maiden with the wings of a butterfly, along with cupid, in the different situations described in the allegory. milton alludes to the story of cupid and psyche in the conclusion of his "comus": "celestial cupid, her famed son, advanced, holds his dear psyche sweet entranced, after her wandering labors long, till free consent the gods among make her his eternal bride; and from her fair unspotted side two blissful twins are to be born, youth and joy; so jove hath sworn." the allegory of the story of cupid and psyche is well presented in the beautiful lines of t. k. harvey: "they wove bright fables in the days of old, when reason borrowed fancy's painted wings; when truth's clear river flowed o'er sands of gold, and told in song its high and mystic things! and such the sweet and solemn tale of her the pilgrim heart, to whom a dream was given, that led her through the world,--love's worshipper,-- to seek on earth for him whose home was heaven! "in the full city,--by the haunted fount,-- through the dim grotto's tracery of spars,-- 'mid the pine temples, on the moonlit mount, where silence sits to listen to the stars; in the deep glade where dwells the brooding dove, the painted valley, and the scented air, she heard far echoes of the voice of love, and found his footsteps' traces everywhere. "but nevermore they met since doubts and fears, those phantom shapes that haunt and blight the earth, had come 'twixt her, a child of sin and tears, and that bright spirit of immortal birth; until her pining soul and weeping eyes had learned to seek him only in the skies; till wings unto the weary heart were given, and she became love's angel bride in heaven!" the story of cupid and psyche first appears in the works of apuleius, a writer of the second century of our era. it is therefore of much more recent date than most of the legends of the age of fable. it is this that keats alludes to in his "ode to psyche": "o latest born and loveliest vision far of all olympus' faded hierarchy! fairer than phoebe's sapphire-regioned star or vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky; fairer than these, though temple thou hast none, nor altar heaped with flowers; nor virgin choir to make delicious moan upon the midnight hours; no voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet, from chain-swung censor teeming; no shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming." in moore's "summer fete" a fancy ball is described, in which one of the characters personated is psyche-- "... not in dark disguise to-night hath our young heroine veiled her light;-- for see, she walks the earth, love's own. his wedded bride, by holiest vow pledged in olympus, and made known to mortals by the type which now hangs glittering on her snowy brow. that butterfly, mysterious trinket, which means the soul, (though few would think it,) and sparkling thus on brow so white tells us we've psyche here to-night." chapter xii cadmus--the myrmidons jupiter, under the disguise of a bull, had carried away europa, the daughter of agenor, king of phoenicia. agenor commanded his son cadmus to go in search of his sister, and not to return without her. cadmus went and sought long and far for his sister, but could not find her, and not daring to return unsuccessful, consulted the oracle of apollo to know what country he should settle in. the oracle informed him that he should find a cow in the field, and should follow her wherever she might wander, and where she stopped, should build a city and call it thebes. cadmus had hardly left the castalian cave, from which the oracle was delivered, when he saw a young cow slowly walking before him. he followed her close, offering at the same time his prayers to phoebus. the cow went on till she passed the shallow channel of cephisus and came out into the plain of panope. there she stood still, and raising her broad forehead to the sky, filled the air with her lowings. cadmus gave thanks, and stooping down kissed the foreign soil, then lifting his eyes, greeted the surrounding mountains. wishing to offer a sacrifice to jupiter, he sent his servants to seek pure water for a libation. near by there stood an ancient grove which had never been profaned by the axe, in the midst of which was a cave, thick covered with the growth of bushes, its roof forming a low arch, from beneath which burst forth a fountain of purest water. in the cave lurked a horrid serpent with a crested head and scales glittering like gold. his eyes shone like fire, his body was swollen with venom, he vibrated a triple tongue, and showed a triple row of teeth. no sooner had the tyrians dipped their pitchers in the fountain, and the in- gushing waters made a sound, than the glittering serpent raised his head out of the cave and uttered a fearful hiss. the vessels fell from their hands, the blood left their cheeks, they trembled in every limb. the serpent, twisting his scaly body in a huge coil, raised his head so as to overtop the tallest trees, and while the tyrians from terror could neither fight nor fly, slew some with his fangs, others in his folds, and others with his poisonous breath. cadmus, having waited for the return of his men till midday, went in search of them. his covering was a lion's hide, and besides his javelin he carried in his hand a lance, and in his breast a bold heart, a surer reliance than either. when he entered the wood, and saw the lifeless bodies of his men, and the monster with his bloody jaws, he exclaimed, "o faithful friends, i will avenge you, or share your death." so saying he lifted a huge stone and threw it with all his force at the serpent. such a block would have shaken the wall of a fortress, but it made no impression on the monster. cadmus next threw his javelin, which met with better success, for it penetrated the serpent's scales, and pierced through to his entrails. fierce with pain, the monster turned back his head to view the wound, and attempted to draw out the weapon with his mouth, but broke it off, leaving the iron point rankling in his flesh. his neck swelled with rage, bloody foam covered his jaws, and the breath of his nostrils poisoned the air around. now he twisted himself into a circle, then stretched himself out on the ground like the trunk of a fallen tree. as he moved onward, cadmus retreated before him, holding his spear opposite to the monster's opened jaws. the serpent snapped at the weapon and attempted to bite its iron point. at last cadmus, watching his chance, thrust the spear at a moment when the animal's head thrown back came against the trunk of a tree, and so succeeded in pinning him to its side. his weight bent the tree as he struggled in the agonies of death. while cadmus stood over his conquered foe, contemplating its vast size, a voice was heard (from whence he knew not, but he heard it distinctly) commanding him to take the dragon's teeth and sow them in the earth. he obeyed. he made a furrow in the ground, and planted the teeth, destined to produce a crop of men. scarce had he done so when the clods began to move, and the points of spears to appear above the surface. next helmets with their nodding plumes came up, and next the shoulders and breasts and limbs of men with weapons, and in time a harvest of armed warriors. cadmus, alarmed, prepared to encounter a new enemy, but one of them said to him, "meddle not with our civil war." with that he who had spoken smote one of his earth-born brothers with a sword, and he himself fell pierced with an arrow from another. the latter fell victim to a fourth, and in like manner the whole crowd dealt with each other till all fell, slain with mutual wounds, except five survivors. one of these cast away his weapons and said, "brothers, let us live in peace!" these five joined with cadmus in building his city, to which they gave the name of thebes. cadmus obtained in marriage harmonia, the daughter of venus. the gods left olympus to honor the occasion with their presence, and vulcan presented the bride with a necklace of surpassing brilliancy, his own workmanship. but a fatality hung over the family of cadmus in consequence of his killing the serpent sacred to mars. semele and ino, his daughters, and actaeon and pentheus, his grandchildren, all perished unhappily, and cadmus and harmonia quitted thebes, now grown odious to them, and emigrated to the country of the enchelians, who received them with honor and made cadmus their king. but the misfortunes of their children still weighed upon their minds; and one day cadmus exclaimed, "if a serpent's life is so dear to the gods, i would i were myself a serpent." no sooner had he uttered the words than he began to change his form. harmonia beheld it and prayed to the gods to let her share his fate. both became serpents. they live in the woods, but mindful of their origin, they neither avoid the presence of man nor do they ever injure any one. there is a tradition that cadmus introduced into greece the letters of the alphabet which were invented by the phoenicians. this is alluded to by byron, where, addressing the modern greeks, he says: "you have the letters cadmus gave, think you he meant them for a slave?" milton, describing the serpent which tempted eve, is reminded of the serpents of the classical stories and says: ... "--pleasing was his shape, and lovely never since of serpent kind lovelier; not those that in illyria changed hermione and cadmus, nor the god in epidaurus" for an explanation of the last allusion, see oracle of aesculapius, p. . the myrmidons the myrmidons were the soldiers of achilles, in the trojan war. from them all zealous and unscrupulous followers of a political chief are called by that name, down to this day. but the origin of the myrmidons would not give one the idea of a fierce and bloody race, but rather of a laborious and peaceful one. cephalus, king of athens, arrived in the island of aegina to seek assistance of his old friend and ally aeacus, the king, in his war with minos, king of crete. cephalus was most kindly received, and the desired assistance readily promised. "i have people enough," said aeacus, "to protect myself and spare you such a force as you need." "i rejoice to see it," replied cephalus, "and my wonder has been raised, i confess, to find such a host of youths as i see around me, all apparently of about the same age. yet there are many individuals whom i previously knew, that i look for now in vain. what has become of them?" aeacus groaned, and replied with a voice of sadness, "i have been intending to tell you, and will now do so, without more delay, that you may see how from the saddest beginning a happy result sometimes flows. those whom you formerly knew are now dust and ashes! a plague sent by angry juno devastated the land. she hated it because it bore the name of one of her husband's female favorites. while the disease appeared to spring from natural causes we resisted it, as we best might, by natural remedies; but it soon appeared that the pestilence was too powerful for our efforts, and we yielded. at the beginning the sky seemed to settle down upon the earth, and thick clouds shut in the heated air. for four months together a deadly south wind prevailed. the disorder affected the wells and springs; thousands of snakes crept over the land and shed their poison in the fountains. the force of the disease was first spent on the lower animals--dogs, cattle, sheep, and birds the luckless ploughman wondered to see his oxen fall in the midst of their work, and lie helpless in the unfinished furrow. the wool fell from the bleating sheep, and their bodies pined away. the horse, once foremost in the race, contested the palm no more, but groaned at his stall and died an inglorious death. the wild boar forgot his rage, the stag his swiftness, the bears no longer attacked the herds. everything languished; dead bodies lay in the roads, the fields, and the woods; the air was poisoned by them, i tell you what is hardly credible, but neither dogs nor birds would touch them, nor starving wolves. their decay spread the infection. next the disease attacked the country people, and then the dwellers in the city. at first the cheek was flushed, and the breath drawn with difficulty. the tongue grew rough and swelled, and the dry mouth stood open with its veins enlarged and gasped for the air. men could not bear the heat of their clothes or their beds, but preferred to lie on the bare ground; and the ground did not cool them, but, on the contrary, they heated the spot where they lay. nor could the physicians help, for the disease attacked them also, and the contact of the sick gave them infection, so that the most faithful were the first victims. at last all hope of relief vanished, and men learned to look upon death as the only deliverer from disease. then they gave way to every inclination, and cared not to ask what was expedient, for nothing was expedient. all restraint laid aside, they crowded around the wells and fountains and drank till they died, without quenching thirst. many had not strength to get away from the water, but died in the midst of the stream, and others would drink of it notwithstanding. such was their weariness of their sick beds that some would creep forth, and if not strong enough to stand, would die on the ground. they seemed to hate their friends, and got away from their homes, as if, not knowing the cause of their sickness, they charged it on the place of their abode. some were seen tottering along the road, as long as they could stand, while others sank on the earth, and turned their dying eyes around to take a last look, then closed them in death. "what heart had i left me, during all this, or what ought i to have had, except to hate life and wish to be with my dead subjects? on all sides lay my people strewn like over-ripened apples beneath the tree, or acorns under the storm-shaken oak. you see yonder a temple on the height. it is sacred to jupiter. o how many offered prayers there, husbands for wives, fathers for sons, and died in the very act of supplication! how often, while the priest made ready for sacrifice, the victim fell, struck down by disease without waiting for the blow! at length all reverence for sacred things was lost. bodies were thrown out unburied, wood was wanting for funeral piles, men fought with one another for the possession of them. finally there were none left to mourn; sons and husbands, old men and youths, perished alike unlamented. "standing before the altar i raised my eyes to heaven. 'o jupiter,' i said, 'if thou art indeed my father, and art not ashamed of thy offspring, give me back my people, or take me also away!' at these words a clap of thunder was heard. 'i accept the omen,' i cried; 'o may it be a sign of a favorable disposition towards me!' by chance there grew by the place where i stood an oak with wide-spreading branches, sacred to jupiter. i observed a troop of ants busy with their labor, carrying minute grains in their mouths and following one another in a line up the trunk of the tree. observing their numbers with admiration, i said, 'give me, o father, citizens as numerous as these, and replenish my empty city.' the tree shook and gave a rustling sound with its branches, though no wind agitated them. i trembled in every limb, yet i kissed the earth and the tree. i would not confess to myself that i hoped, yet i did hope. night came on and sleep took possession of my frame oppressed with cares. the tree stood before me in my dreams, with its numerous branches all covered with living, moving creatures. it seemed to shake its limbs and throw down over the ground a multitude of those industrious grain- gathering animals, which appeared to gain in size, and grow larger and larger, and by and by to stand erect, lay aside their superfluous legs and their black color, and finally to assume the human form. then i awoke, and my first impulse was to chide the gods who had robbed me of a sweet vision and given me no reality in its place. being still in the temple, my attention was caught by the sound of many voices without; a sound of late unusual to my ears. while i began to think i was yet dreaming, telamon, my son, throwing open the temple gates, exclaimed: 'father, approach, and behold things surpassing even your hopes!' i went forth; i saw a multitude of men, such as i had seen in my dream, and they were passing in procession in the same manner. while i gazed with wonder and delight they approached and kneeling hailed me as their king. i paid my vows to jove, and proceeded to allot the vacant city to the new-born race, and to parcel out the fields among them i called them myrmidons, from the ant (myrmex) from which they sprang. you have seen these persons; their dispositions resemble those which they had in their former shape. they are a diligent and industrious race, eager to gain, and tenacious of their gains. among them you may recruit your forces. they will follow you to the war, young in years and bold in heart." this description of the plague is copied by ovid from the account which thucydides, the greek historian, gives of the plague of athens. the historian drew from life, and all the poets and writers of fiction since his day, when they have had occasion to describe a similar scene, have borrowed their details from him. chapter xiii nisus and scylla--echo and narcissus--clytie--hero and leander nisus and scylla minos, king of crete, made war upon megara. nisus was king of megara, and scylla was his daughter. the siege had now lasted six months and the city still held out, for it was decreed by fate that it should not be taken so long as a certain purple lock, which glittered among the hair of king nisus, remained on his head. there was a tower on the city walls, which overlooked the plain where minos and his army were encamped. to this tower scylla used to repair, and look abroad over the tents of the hostile army. the siege had lasted so long that she had learned to distinguish the persons of the leaders. minos, in particular, excited her admiration. arrayed in his helmet, and bearing his shield, she admired his graceful deportment; if he threw his javelin skill seemed combined with force in the discharge; if he drew his bow apollo himself could not have done it more gracefully. but when he laid aside his helmet, and in his purple robes bestrode his white horse with its gay caparisons, and reined in its foaming mouth, the daughter of nisus was hardly mistress of herself; she was almost frantic with admiration. she envied the weapon that he grasped, the reins that he held. she felt as if she could, if it were possible, go to him through the hostile ranks; she felt an impulse to cast herself down from the tower into the midst of his camp, or to open the gates to him, or to do anything else, so only it might gratify minos. as she sat in the tower, she talked thus with herself: "i know not whether to rejoice or grieve at this sad war. i grieve that minos is our enemy; but i rejoice at any cause that brings him to my sight. perhaps he would be willing to grant us peace, and receive me as a hostage. i would fly down, if i could, and alight in his camp, and tell him that we yield ourselves to his mercy. but then, to betray my father! no! rather would i never see minos again. and yet no doubt it is sometimes the best thing for a city to be conquered, when the conqueror is clement and generous. minos certainly has right on his side. i think we shall be conquered; and if that must be the end of it, why should not love unbar the gates to him, instead of leaving it to be done by war? better spare delay and slaughter if we can. and o if any one should wound or kill minos! no one surely would have the heart to do it; yet ignorantly, not knowing him, one might. i will, i will surrender myself to him, with my country as a dowry, and so put an end to the war. but how? the gates are guarded, and my father keeps the keys; he only stands in my way. o that it might please the gods to take him away! but why ask the gods to do it? another woman, loving as i do, would remove with her own hands whatever stood in the way of her love. and can any other woman dare more than i? i would encounter fire and sword to gain my object; but here there is no need of fire and sword. i only need my father's purple lock. more precious than gold to me, that will give me all i wish." while she thus reasoned night came on, and soon the whole palace was buried in sleep. she entered her father's bedchamber and cut off the fatal lock; then passed out of the city and entered the enemy's camp. she demanded to be led to the king, and thus addressed him: "i am scylla, the daughter of nisus. i surrender to you my country and my father's house. i ask no reward but yourself; for love of you i have done it. see here the purple lock! with this i give you my father and his kingdom." she held out her hand with the fatal spoil. minos shrunk back and refused to touch it. "the gods destroy thee, infamous woman," he exclaimed; "disgrace of our time! may neither earth nor sea yield thee a resting-place! surely, my crete, where jove himself was cradled, shall not be polluted with such a monster!" thus he said, and gave orders that equitable terms should be allowed to the conquered city, and that the fleet should immediately sail from the island. scylla was frantic. "ungrateful man," she exclaimed, "is it thus you leave me?--me who have given you victory,--who have sacrificed for you parent and country! i am guilty, i confess, and deserve to die, but not by your hand." as the ships left the shore, she leaped into the water, and seizing the rudder of the one which carried minos, she was borne along an unwelcome companion of their course. a sea-eagle ing aloft,--it was her father who had been changed into that form,--seeing her, pounced down upon her, and struck her with his beak and claws. in terror she let go the ship and would have fallen into the water, but some pitying deity changed her into a bird. the sea-eagle still cherishes the old animosity; and whenever he espies her in his lofty flight you may see him dart down upon her, with beak and claws, to take vengeance for the ancient crime. echo and narcissus echo was a beautiful nymph, fond of the woods and hills, where she devoted herself to woodland sports. she was a favorite of diana, and attended her in the chase. but echo had one failing; she was fond of talking, and whether in chat or argument, would have the last word. one day juno was seeking her husband, who, she had reason to fear, was amusing himself among the nymphs. echo by her talk contrived to detain the goddess till the nymphs made their escape. when juno discovered it, she passed sentence upon echo in these words: "you shall forfeit the use of that tongue with which you have cheated me, except for that one purpose you are so fond of--reply. you shall still have the last word, but no power to speak first." this nymph saw narcissus, a beautiful youth, as he pursued the chase upon the mountains. she loved him, and followed his footsteps. o how she longed to address him in the softest accents, and win him to converse! but it was not in her power. she waited with impatience for him to speak first, and had her answer ready. one day the youth, being separated from his companions, shouted aloud, "who's here?" echo replied, "here." narcissus looked around, but seeing no one called out, "come." echo answered, "come." as no one came, narcissus called again, "why do you shun me?" echo asked the same question. "let us join one another," said the youth. the maid answered with all her heart in the same words, and hastened to the spot, ready to throw her arms about his neck. he started back, exclaiming, "hands off! i would rather die than you should have me!" "have me," said she; but it was all in vain. he left her, and she went to hide her blushes in the recesses of the woods. from that time forth she lived in caves and among mountain cliffs. her form faded with grief, till at last all her flesh shrank away. her bones were changed into rocks and there was nothing left of her but her voice. with that she is still ready to reply to any one who calls her, and keeps up her old habit of having the last word. narcissus's cruelty in this case was not the only instance. he shunned all the rest of the nymphs, as he had done poor echo. one day a maiden who had in vain endeavored to attract him uttered a prayer that he might some time or other feel what it was to love and meet no return of affection. the avenging goddess heard and granted the prayer. there was a clear fountain, with water like silver, to which the shepherds never drove their flocks, nor the mountain goats resorted, nor any of the beasts of the forest; neither was it defaced with fallen leaves or branches; but the grass grew fresh around it, and the rocks sheltered it from the sun. hither came one day the youth, fatigued with hunting, heated and thirsty. he stooped down to drink, and saw his own image in the water; he thought it was some beautiful water-spirit living in the fountain. he stood gazing with admiration at those bright eyes, those locks curled like the locks of bacchus or apollo, the rounded cheeks, the ivory neck, the parted lips, and the glow of health and exercise over all. he fell in love with himself. he brought his lips near to take a kiss; he plunged his arms in to embrace the beloved object. it fled at the touch, but returned again after a moment and renewed the fascination. he could not tear himself away; he lost all thought of food or rest, while he hovered over the brink of the fountain gazing upon his own image. he talked with the supposed spirit: "why, beautiful being, do you shun me? surely my face is not one to repel you. the nymphs love me, and you yourself look not indifferent upon me. when i stretch forth my arms you do the same; and you smile upon me and answer my beckonings with the like." his tears fell into the water and disturbed the image. as he saw it depart, he exclaimed, "stay, i entreat you! let me at least gaze upon you, if i may not touch you." with this, and much more of the same kind, he cherished the flame that consumed him, so that by degrees he lost his color, his vigor, and the beauty which formerly had so charmed the nymph echo. she kept near him, however, and when he exclaimed, "alas! alas!" she answered him with the same words. he pined away and died; and when his shade passed the stygian river, it leaned over the boat to catch a look of itself in the waters. the nymphs mourned for him, especially the water-nymphs; and when they smote their breasts echo smote hers also. they prepared a funeral pile and would have burned the body, but it was nowhere to be found; but in its place a flower, purple within, and surrounded with white leaves, which bears the name and preserves the memory of narcissus. milton alludes to the story of echo and narcissus in the lady's song in "comus." she is seeking her brothers in the forest, and sings to attract their attention: "sweet echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen within thy aery shell by slow meander's margent green, and in the violet-embroidered vale, where the love-lorn nightingale nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well; canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair that likest thy narcissus are? o, if thou have hid them in some flowery cave, tell me but where, sweet queen of parly, daughter of the sphere, so may'st thou be translated to the skies, and give resounding grace to all heaven's harmonies." milton has imitated the story of narcissus in the account which he makes eve give of the first sight of herself reflected in the fountain: "that day i oft remember when from sleep i first awaked, and found myself reposed under a shade on flowers, much wondering where and what i was, whence thither brought, and how. not distant far from thence a murmuring sound of waters issued from a cave, and spread into a liquid plain, then stood unmoved pure as the expanse of heaven; i thither went with unexperienced thought, and laid me down on the green bank, to look into the clear smooth lake that to me seemed another sky. as i bent down to look, just opposite a shape within the watery gleam appeared, bending to look on me. i started back; it started back; but pleased i soon returned, pleased it returned as soon with answering looks of sympathy and love. there had i fixed mine eyes till now, and pined wi vain desire, had not a voice thus warned me: 'what thou seest, what there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself;'" etc. --paradise lost, book iv. no one of the fables of antiquity has been oftener alluded to by the poets than that of narcissus. here are two epigrams which treat it in different ways. the first is by goldsmith: "on a beautiful youth, struck blind by lightning "sure 'twas by providence designed, rather in pity than in hate, that he should be like cupid blind, to save him from narcissus' fate." the other is by cowper: "on an ugly fellow "beware, my friend, of crystal brook or fountain, lest that hideous hook, thy nose, thou chance to see; narcissus' fate would then be thine, and self-detested thou would'st pine, as self-enamoured he." clytie clytie was a water-nymph and in love with apollo, who made her no return. so she pined away, sitting all day long upon the cold ground, with her unbound tresses streaming over her shoulders. nine days she sat and tasted neither food nor drink, her own tears and the chilly dew her only food. she gazed on the sun when he rose, and as he passed through his daily course to his setting; she saw no other object, her face turned constantly on him. at last, they say, her limbs rooted in the ground, her face became a flower [footnote: the sunflower.] which turns on its stem so as always to face the sun throughout its daily course; for it retains to that extent the feeling of the nymph from whom it sprang. hood, in his "flowers," thus alludes to clytie: "i will not have the mad clytie, whose head is turned by the sun; the tulip is a courtly quean, whom therefore i will shun; the cowslip is a country wench, the violet is a nun;-- but i will woo the dainty rose, the queen of every one." the sunflower is a favorite emblem of constancy. thus moore uses it: "the heart that has truly loved never forgets, but as truly loves on to the close; as the sunflower turns on her god when he sets the same look that she turned when he rose." hero and leander leander was a youth of abydos, a town of the asian side of the strait which separates asia and europe. on the opposite shore, in the town of sestos, lived the maiden hero, a priestess of venus. leander loved her, and used to swim the strait nightly to enjoy the company of his mistress, guided by a torch which she reared upon the tower for the purpose. but one night a tempest arose and the sea was rough; his strength failed, and he was drowned. the waves bore his body to the european shore, where hero became aware of his death, and in her despair cast herself down from the tower into the sea and perished. the following sonnet is by keats: "on a picture of leander "come hither all sweet maidens soberly, down looking aye, and with a chasten'd light hid in the fringes of your eyelids white, and meekly let your fair hands joined be as if so gentle that ye could not see, untouch'd, a victim of your beauty bright, sinking away to his young spirit's night, sinking bewilder'd'mid the dreary sea. 'tis young leander toiling to his death nigh swooning he doth purse his weary lips for hero's cheek, and smiles against her smile o horrid dream! see how his body dips dead-heavy; arms and shoulders gleam awhile; he's gone; up bubbles all his amorous breath!" the story of leander's swimming the hellespont was looked upon as fabulous, and the feat considered impossible, till lord byron proved its possibility by performing it himself. in the "bride of abydos" he says, "these limbs that buoyant wave hath borne." the distance in the narrowest part is almost a mile, and there is a constant current setting out from the sea of marmora into the archipelago. since byron's time the feat has been achieved by others; but it yet remains a test of strength and skill in the art of swimming sufficient to give a wide and lasting celebrity to any one of our readers who may dare to make the attempt and succeed in accomplishing it. in the beginning of the second canto of the same poem, byron thus alludes to this story: "the winds are high on helle's wave, as on that night of stormiest water, when love, who sent, forgot to save the young, the beautiful, the brave, the lonely hope of sestos' daughter. o, when alone along the sky the turret-torch was blazing high, though rising gale and breaking foam, and shrieking sea-birds warned him home; and clouds aloft and tides below, with signs and sounds forbade to go, he could not see, he would not hear or sound or sight foreboding fear. his eye but saw that light of love, the only star it hailed above; his ear but rang with hero's song, 'ye waves, divide not lovers long.' that tale is old, but love anew may nerve young hearts to prove as true." chapter xiv minerva--niobe minerva minerva, the goddess of wisdom, was the daughter of jupiter. she was said to have leaped forth from his brain, mature, and in complete armor. she presided over the useful and ornamental arts, both those of men--such as agriculture and navigation--and those of women,--spinning, weaving, and needlework. she was also a warlike divinity; but it was defensive war only that she patronized, and she had no sympathy with mars's savage love of violence and bloodshed. athens was her chosen seat, her own city, awarded to her as the prize of a contest with neptune, who also aspired to it. the tale ran that in the reign of cecrops, the first king of athens, the two deities contended for the possession of the city. the gods decreed that it should be awarded to that one who produced the gift most useful to mortals. neptune gave the horse; minerva produced the olive. the gods gave judgment that the olive was the more useful of the two, and awarded the city to the goddess; and it was named after her, athens, her name in greek being athene. there was another contest, in which a mortal dared to come in competition with minerva. that mortal was arachne, a maiden who had attained such skill in the arts of weaving and embroidery that the nymphs themselves would leave their groves and fountains to come and gaze upon her work. it was not only beautiful when it was done, but beautiful also in the doing. to watch her, as she took the wool in its rude state and formed it into rolls, or separated it with her fingers and carded it till it looked as light and soft as a cloud, or twirled the spindle with skilful touch, or wove the web, or, after it was woven, adorned it with her needle, one would have said that minerva herself had taught her. but this she denied, and could not bear to be thought a pupil even of a goddess. "let minerva try her skill with mine," said she; "if beaten i will pay the penalty." minerva heard this and was displeased. she assumed the form of an old woman and went and gave arachne some friendly advice "i have had much experience," said she, "and i hope you will not despise my counsel. challenge your fellow-mortals as you will, but do not compete with a goddess. on the contrary, i advise you to ask her forgiveness for what you have said, and as she is merciful perhaps she will pardon you." arachne stopped her spinning and looked at the old dame with anger in her countenance. "keep your counsel," said she, "for your daughters or handmaids; for my part i know what i say, and i stand to it. i am not afraid of the goddess; let her try her skill, if she dare venture." "she comes," said minerva; and dropping her disguise stood confessed. the nymphs bent low in homage, and all the bystanders paid reverence. arachne alone was unterrified. she blushed, indeed; a sudden color dyed her cheek, and then she grew pale. but she stood to her resolve, and with a foolish conceit of her own skill rushed on her fate. minerva forbore no longer nor interposed any further advice. they proceed to the contest. each takes her station and attaches the web to the beam. then the slender shuttle is passed in and out among the threads. the reed with its fine teeth strikes up the woof into its place and compacts the web. both work with speed; their skilful hands move rapidly, and the excitement of the contest makes the labor light. wool of tyrian dye is contrasted with that of other colors, shaded off into one another so adroitly that the joining deceives the eye. like the bow, whose long arch tinges the heavens, formed by sunbeams reflected from the shower, [footnote: this correct description of the rainbow is literally translated from ovid.] in which, where the colors meet they seem as one, but at a little distance from the point of contact are wholly different. minerva wrought on her web the scene of her contest with neptune. twelve of the heavenly powers are represented, jupiter, with august gravity, sitting in the midst. neptune, the ruler of the sea, holds his trident, and appears to have just smitten the earth, from which a horse has leaped forth. minerva depicted herself with helmed head, her aegis covering her breast. such was the central circle; and in the four corners were represented incidents illustrating the displeasure of the gods at such presumptuous mortals as had dared to contend with them. these were meant as warnings to her rival to give up the contest before it was too late. arachne filled her web with subjects designedly chosen to exhibit the failings and errors of the gods. one scene represented leda caressing the swan, under which form jupiter had disguised himself; and another, danae, in the brazen tower in which her father had imprisoned her, but where the god effected his entrance in the form of a golden shower. still another depicted europa deceived by jupiter under the disguise of a bull. encouraged by the tameness of the animal europa ventured to mount his back, whereupon jupiter advanced into the sea and swam with her to crete. you would have thought it was a real bull, so naturally was it wrought, and so natural the water in which it swam. she seemed to look with longing eyes back upon the shore she was leaving, and to call to her companions for help. she appeared to shudder with terror at the sight of the heaving waves, and to draw back her feet from the water. arachne filled her canvas with similar subjects, wonderfully well done, but strongly marking her presumption and impiety. minerva could not forbear to admire, yet felt indignant at the insult. she struck the web with her shuttle and rent it in pieces, she then touched the forehead of arachne and made her feel her guilt and shame. she could not endure it and went and hanged herself. minerva pitied her as she saw her suspended by a rope. "live," she said, "guilty woman! and that you may preserve the memory of this lesson, continue to hang, both you and your descendants, to all future times." she sprinkled her with the juices of aconite, and immediately her hair came off, and her nose and ears likewise. her form shrank up, and her head grew smaller yet; her fingers cleaved to her side and served for legs. all the rest of her is body, out of which she spins her thread, often hanging suspended by it, in the same attitude as when minerva touched her and transformed her into a spider. spenser tells the story of arachne in his "muiopotmos," adhering very closely to his master ovid, but improving upon him in the conclusion of the story. the two stanzas which follow tell what was done after the goddess had depicted her creation of the olive tree: "amongst these leaves she made a butterfly, with excellent device and wondrous slight, fluttering among the olives wantonly, that seemed to live, so like it was in sight; the velvet nap which on his wings doth lie, the silken down with which his back is dight, his broad outstretched horns, his hairy thighs, his glorious colors, and his glistening eyes." "which when arachne saw, as overlaid and mastered with workmanship so rare, she stood astonied long, ne aught gainsaid; and with fast-fixed eyes on her did stare, and by her silence, sign of one dismayed, the victory did yield her as her share; yet did she inly fret and felly burn, and all her blood to poisonous rancor turn." [footnote: sir james mackintosh says of this, "do you think that even a chinese could paint the gay colors of a butterfly with more mmute exactness than the following lines: 'the velvet nap,' etc.?"--life, vol. ii, .] and so the metamorphosis is caused by arachne's own mortification and vexation, and not by any direct act of the goddess. the following specimen of old-fashioned gallantry is by garrick: "upon a lady's embroidery "arachne once, as poets tell, a goddess at her art defied, and soon the daring mortal fell the hapless victim of her pride. "o, then beware arachne's fate; be prudent, chloe, and submit, for you'll most surely meet her hate, who rival both her art and wit." tennyson, in his "palace of art," describing the works of art with which the palace was adorned, thus alludes to europa: "... sweet europa's mantle blew unclasped from off her shoulder, backward borne, from one hand drooped a crocus, one hand grasped the mild bull's golden horn." in his "princess" there is this allusion to danae: "now lies the earth all danae to the stars, and all thy heart lies open unto me." niobe the fate of arachne was noised abroad through all the country, and served as a warning to all presumptuous mortals not to compare themselves with the divinities. but one, and she a matron too, failed to learn the lesson of humility. it was niobe, the queen of thebes. she had indeed much to be proud of; but it was not her husband's fame, nor her own beauty, nor their great descent, nor the power of their kingdom that elated her. it was her children; and truly the happiest of mothers would niobe have been if only she had not claimed to be so. it was on occasion of the annual celebration in honor of latona and her offspring, apollo and diana,--when the people of thebes were assembled, their brows crowned with laurel, bearing frankincense to the altars and paying their vows,--that niobe appeared among the crowd. her attire was splendid with gold and gems, and her aspect beautiful as the face of an angry woman can be. she stood and surveyed the people with haughty looks. "what folly," said she, "is this!--to prefer beings whom you never saw to those who stand before your eyes! why should latona be honored with worship, and none be paid to me? my father was tantalus, who was received as a guest at the table of the gods; my mother was a goddess. my husband built and rules this city, thebes, and phrygia is my paternal inheritance. wherever i turn my eyes i survey the elements of my power; nor is my form and presence unworthy of a goddess. to all this let me add i have seven sons and seven daughters, and look for sons-in-law and daughters-in-law of pretensions worthy of my alliance. have i not cause for pride? will you prefer to me this latona, the titan's daughter, with her two children? i have seven times as many. fortunate indeed am i, and fortunate i shall remain! will any one deny this? my abundance is my security. i feel myself too strong for fortune to subdue. she may take from me much; i shall still have much left. were i to lose some of my children, i should hardly be left as poor as latona with her two only. away with you from these solemnities,--put off the laurel from your brows,--have done with this worship!" the people obeyed, and left the sacred services uncompleted. the goddess was indignant. on the cynthian mountain top where she dwelt she thus addressed her son and daughter: "my children, i who have been so proud of you both, and have been used to hold myself second to none of the goddesses except juno alone, begin now to doubt whether i am indeed a goddess. i shall be deprived of my worship altogether unless you protect me." she was proceeding in this strain, but apollo interrupted her. "say no more," said he; "speech only delays punishment." so said diana also. darting through the air, veiled in clouds, they alighted on the towers of the city. spread out before the gates was a broad plain, where the youth of the city pursued their warlike sports. the sons of niobe were there with the rest,--some mounted on spirited horses richly caparisoned, some driving gay chariots. ismenos, the first-born, as he guided his foaming steeds, struck with an arrow from above, cried out, "ah me!" dropped the reins, and fell lifeless. another, hearing the sound of the bow,--like a boatman who sees the storm gathering and makes all sail for the port,--gave the reins to his horses and attempted to escape. the inevitable arrow overtook him as he fled. two others, younger boys, just from their tasks, had gone to the playground to have a game of wrestling. as they stood breast to breast, one arrow pierced them both. they uttered a cry together, together cast a parting look around them, and together breathed their last. alphenor, an elder brother, seeing them fall, hastened to the spot to render assistance, and fell stricken in the act of brotherly duty. one only was left, ilioneus. he raised his arms to heaven to try whether prayer might not avail. "spare me, ye gods!" he cried, addressing all, in his ignorance that all needed not his intercessions; and apollo would have spared him, but the arrow had already left the string, and it was too late. the terror of the people and grief of the attendants soon made niobe acquainted with what had taken place. she could hardly think it possible; she was indignant that the gods had dared and amazed that they had been able to do it. her husband, amphion, overwhelmed with the blow, destroyed himself. alas! how different was this niobe from her who had so lately driven away the people from the sacred rites, and held her stately course through the city, the envy of her friends, now the pity even of her foes! she knelt over the lifeless bodies, and kissed now one, now another of her dead sons. raising her pallid arms to heaven, "cruel latona," said she, "feed full your rage with my anguish! satiate your hard heart, while i follow to the grave my seven sons. yet where is your triumph? bereaved as i am, i am still richer than you, my conqueror." scarce had she spoken, when the bow sounded and struck terror into all hearts except niobe's alone. she was brave from excess of grief. the sisters stood in garments of mourning over the biers of their dead brothers. one fell, struck by an arrow, and died on the corpse she was bewailing. another, attempting to console her mother, suddenly ceased to speak, and sank lifeless to the earth. a third tried to escape by flight, a fourth by concealment, another stood trembling, uncertain what course to take. six were now dead, and only one remained, whom the mother held clasped in her arms, and covered as it were with her whole body. "spare me one, and that the youngest! o spare me one of so many!" she cried; and while she spoke, that one fell dead. desolate she sat, among sons, daughters, husband, all dead, and seemed torpid with grief. the breeze moved not her hair, no color was on her cheek, her eyes glared fixed and immovable, there was no sign of life about her. her very tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth, and her veins ceased to convey the tide of life. her neck bent not, her arms made no gesture, her foot no step. she was changed to stone, within and without. yet tears continued to flow; and borne on a whirlwind to her native mountain, she still remains, a mass of rock, from which a trickling stream flows, the tribute of her never-ending grief. the story of niobe has furnished byron with a fine illustration of the fallen condition of modern rome: "the niobe of nations! there she stands, childless and crownless in her voiceless woe; an empty urn within her withered hands, whose holy dust was scattered long ago; the scipios' tomb contains no ashes now: the very sepulchres lie tenantless of their heroic dwellers; dost thou flow, old tiber! through a marble wilderness? rise with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress." childe harold, iv. . this affecting story has been made the subject of a celebrated statue in the imperial gallery of florence. it is the principal figure of a group supposed to have been originally arranged in the pediment of a temple. the figure of the mother clasped by the arm of her terrified child is one of the most admired of the ancient statues. it ranks with the laocoon and the apollo among the masterpieces of art. the following is a translation of a greek epigram supposed to relate to this statue: "to stone the gods have changed her, but in vain; the sculptor's art has made her breathe again." tragic as is the story of niobe, we cannot forbear to smile at the use moore has made of it in "rhymes on the road": "'twas in his carriage the sublime sir richard blackmore used to rhyme, and, if the wits don't do him wrong, 'twixt death and epics passed his time, scribbling and killing all day long; like phoebus in his car at ease, now warbling forth a lofty song, now murdering the young niobes." sir richard blackmore was a physician, and at the same time a very prolific and very tasteless poet, whose works are now forgotten, unless when recalled to mind by some wit like moore for the sake of a joke. chapter xv the graeae or gray-maids--perseus--medusa--atlas--andromeda the graeae and the gorgons the graeae were three sisters who were gray-haired from their birth, whence their name. the gorgons were monstrous females with huge teeth like those of swine, brazen claws, and snaky hair. none of these beings make much figure in mythology except medusa, the gorgon, whose story we shall next advert to. we mention them chiefly to introduce an ingenious theory of some modern writers, namely, that the gorgons and graeae were only personifications of the terrors of the sea, the former denoting the strong billows of the wide open main, and the latter the white-crested waves that dash against the rocks of the coast. their names in greek signify the above epithets. perseus and medusa perseus was the son of jupiter and danae. his grandfather acrisius, alarmed by an oracle which had told him that his daughter's child would be the instrument of his death, caused the mother and child to be shut up in a chest and set adrift on the sea. the chest floated towards seriphus, where it was found by a fisherman who conveyed the mother and infant to polydectes, the king of the country, by whom they were treated with kindness. when perseus was grown up polydectes sent him to attempt the conquest of medusa, a terrible monster who had laid waste the country. she was once a beautiful maiden whose hair was her chief glory, but as she dared to vie in beauty with minerva, the goddess deprived her of her charms and changed her beautiful ringlets into hissing serpents. she became a cruel monster of so frightful an aspect that no living thing could behold her without being turned into stone. all around the cavern where she dwelt might be seen the stony figures of men and animals which had chanced to catch a glimpse of her and had been petrified with the sight. perseus, favored by minerva and mercury, the former of whom lent him her shield and the latter his winged shoes, approached medusa while she slept, and taking care not to look directly at her, but guided by her image reflected in the bright shield which he bore, he cut off her head and gave it to minerva, who fixed it in the middle of her aegis. milton, in his "comus," thus alludes to the aegis: "what was that snaky-headed gorgon-shield that wise minerva wore, unconquered virgin, wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone, but rigid looks of chaste austerity, and noble grace that dashed brute violence with sudden adoration and blank awe!" armstrong, the poet of the "art of preserving health," thus describes the effect of frost upon the waters: "now blows the surly north and chills throughout the stiffening regions, while by stronger charms than circe e'er or fell medea brewed, each brook that wont to prattle to its banks lies all bestilled and wedged betwixt its banks, nor moves the withered reeds ... the surges baited by the fierce north-east, tossing with fretful spleen their angry heads, e'en in the foam of all their madness struck to monumental ice. such execution, so stern, so sudden, wrought the grisly aspect of terrible medusa, when wandering through the woods she turned to stone their savage tenants; just as the foaming lion sprang furious on his prey, her speedier power outran his haste, and fixed in that fierce attitude he stands like rage in marble!" --imitations of shakspeare. perseus and atlas after the slaughter of medusa, perseus, bearing with him the head of the gorgon, flew far and wide, over land and sea. as night came on, he reached the western limit of the earth, where the sun goes down. here he would gladly have rested till morning. it was the realm of king atlas, whose bulk surpassed that of all other men. he was rich in flocks and herds and had no neighbor or rival to dispute his state. but his chief pride was in his gardens, whose fruit was of gold, hanging from golden branches, half hid with golden leaves. perseus said to him, "i come as a guest. if you honor illustrious descent, i claim jupiter for my father; if mighty deeds, i plead the conquest of the gorgon. i seek rest and food." but atlas remembered that an ancient prophecy had warned him that a son of jove should one day rob him of his golden apples. so he answered, "begone! or neither your false claims of glory nor parentage shall protect you;" and he attempted to thrust him out. perseus, finding the giant too strong for him, said, "since you value my friendship so little, deign to accept a present;" and turning his face away, he held up the gorgon's head. atlas, with all his bulk, was changed into stone. his beard and hair became forests, his arms and shoulders cliffs, his head a summit, and his bones rocks. each part increased in bulk till he became a mountain, and (such was the pleasure of the gods) heaven with all its stars rests upon his shoulders. the sea-monster perseus, continuing his flight, arrived at the country of the aethiopians, of which cepheus was king. cassiopeia his queen, proud of her beauty, had dared to compare herself to the sea- nymphs, which roused their indignation to such a degree that they sent a prodigious sea-monster to ravage the coast. to appease the deities, cepheus was directed by the oracle to expose his daughter andromeda to be devoured by the monster. as perseus looked down from his aerial height he beheld the virgin chained to a rock, and waiting the approach of the serpent. she was so pale and motionless that if it had not been for her flowing tears and her hair that moved in the breeze, he would have taken her for a marble statue. he was so startled at the sight that he almost forgot to wave his wings. as he hovered over her he said, "o virgin, undeserving of those chains, but rather of such as bind fond lovers together, tell me, i beseech you, your name, and the name of your country, and why you are thus bound." at first she was silent from modesty, and, if she could, would have hid her face with her hands; but when he repeated his questions, for fear she might be thought guilty of some fault which she dared not tell, she disclosed her name and that of her country, and her mother's pride of beauty. before she had done speaking, a sound was heard off upon the water, and the sea-monster appeared, with his head raised above the surface, cleaving the waves with his broad breast. the virgin shrieked, the father and mother who had now arrived at the scene, wretched both, but the mother more justly so, stood by, not able to afford protection, but only to pour forth lamentations and to embrace the victim. then spoke perseus: "there will be time enough for tears; this hour is all we have for rescue. my rank as the son of jove and my renown as the slayer of the gorgon might make me acceptable as a suitor; but i will try to win her by services rendered, if the gods will only be propitious. if she be rescued by my valor, i demand that she be my reward." the parents consent (how could they hesitate?) and promise a royal dowry with her. and now the monster was within the range of a stone thrown by a skilful slinger, when with a sudden bound the youth soared into the air. as an eagle, when from his lofty flight he sees a serpent basking in the sun, pounces upon him and seizes him by the neck to prevent him from turning his head round and using his fangs, so the youth darted down upon the back of the monster and plunged his sword into its shoulder. irritated by the wound, the monster raised himself in the air, then plunged into the depth; then, like a wild boar surrounded, by a pack of barking dogs, turned swiftly from side to side, while the youth eluded its attacks by means of his wings. wherever he can find a passage for his sword between the scales he makes a wound, piercing now the side, now the flank, as it slopes towards the tail. the brute spouts from his nostrils water mixed with blood. the wings of the hero are wet with it, and he dares no longer trust to them. alighting on a rock which rose above the waves, and holding on by a projecting fragment, as the monster floated near he gave him a death stroke. the people who had gathered on the shore shouted so that the hills reechoed the sound. the parents, transported with joy, embraced their future son-in-law, calling him their deliverer and the savior of their house, and the virgin both cause and reward of the contest, descended from the rock. cassiopeia was an aethiopian, and consequently, in spite of her boasted beauty, black; at least so milton seems to have thought, who alludes to this story in his "penseroso," where he addresses melancholy as the ".... goddess, sage and holy, whose saintly visage is too bright to hit the sense of human sight, and, therefore, to our weaker view o'erlaid with black, staid wisdom's hue. black, but such as in esteem prince memnon's sister might beseem, or that starred aethiop queen that strove to set her beauty's praise above the sea-nymphs, and their powers offended." cassiopeia is called "the starred aethiop queen" because after her death she was placed among the stars, forming the constellation of that name. though she attained this honor, yet the sea-nymphs, her old enemies, prevailed so far as to cause her to be placed in that part of the heaven near the pole, where every night she is half the time held with her head downward, to give her a lesson of humility. memnon was an aethiopian prince, of whom we shall tell in a future chapter. the wedding feast the joyful parents, with perseus and andromeda, repaired to the palace, where a banquet was spread for them, and all was joy and festivity. but suddenly a noise was heard of warlike clamor, and phineus, the betrothed of the virgin, with a party of his adherents, burst in, demanding the maiden as his own. it was in vain that cepheus remonstrated--"you should have claimed her when she lay bound to the rock, the monster's victim. the sentence of the gods dooming her to such a fate dissolved all engagements, as death itself would have done." phineus made no reply, but hurled his javelin at perseus, but it missed its mark and fell harmless. perseus would have thrown his in turn, but the cowardly assailant ran and took shelter behind the altar. but his act was a signal for an onset by his band upon the guests of cepheus. they defended themselves and a general conflict ensued, the old king retreating from the scene after fruitless expostulations, calling the gods to witness that he was guiltless of this outrage on the rights of hospitality. perseus and his friends maintained for some time the unequal contest; but the numbers of the assailants were too great for them, and destruction seemed inevitable, when a sudden thought struck perseus,--"i will make my enemy defend me." then with a loud voice he exclaimed, "if i have any friend here let him turn away his eyes!" and held aloft the gorgon's head. "seek not to frighten us with your jugglery," said thescelus, and raised his javelin in act to throw, and became stone in the very attitude. ampyx was about to plunge his sword into the body of a prostrate foe, but his arm stiffened and he could neither thrust forward nor withdraw it. another, in the midst of a vociferous challenge, stopped, his mouth open, but no sound issuing. one of perseus's friends, aconteus, caught sight of the gorgon and stiffened like the rest. astyages struck him with his sword, but instead of wounding, it recoiled with a ringing noise. phineus beheld this dreadful result of his unjust aggression, and felt confounded. he called aloud to his friends, but got no answer; he touched them and found them stone. falling on his knees and stretching out his hands to perseus, but turning his head away he begged for mercy. "take all," said he, "give me but my life." "base coward," said perseus, "thus much i will grant you; no weapon shall touch you; moreover, you shall be preserved in my house as a memorial of these events." so saying, he held the gorgon's head to the side where phineus was looking, and in the very form in which he knelt, with his hands outstretched and face averted, he became fixed immovably, a mass of stone! the following allusion to perseus is from milman's "samor": "as'mid the fabled libyan bridal stood perseus in stern tranquillity of wrath, half stood, half floated on his ankle-plumes out-swelling, while the bright face on his shield looked into stone the raging fray; so rose, but with no magic arms, wearing alone th' appalling and control of his firm look, the briton samor; at his rising awe went abroad, and the riotous hall was mute." chapter xvi monsters giants, sphinx, pegasus and chimaera, centaurs, griffin, and pygmies monsters, in the language of mythology, were beings of unnatural proportions or parts, usually regarded with terror, as possessing immense strength and ferocity, which they employed for the injury and annoyance of men. some of them were supposed to combine the members of different animals; such were the sphinx and chimaera; and to these all the terrible qualities of wild beasts were attributed, together with human sagacity and faculties. others, as the giants, differed from men chiefly in their size; and in this particular we must recognize a wide distinction among them. the human giants, if so they may be called, such as the cyclopes, antaeus, orion, and others, must be supposed not to be altogether disproportioned to human beings, for they mingled in love and strife with them. but the superhuman giants, who warred with the gods, were of vastly larger dimensions. tityus, we are told, when stretched on the plain, covered nine acres, and enceladus required the whole of mount aetna to be laid upon him to keep him down. we have already spoken of the war which the giants waged against the gods, and of its result. while this war lasted the giants proved a formidable enemy. some of them, like briareus, had a hundred arms; others, like typhon, breathed out fire. at one time they put the gods to such fear that they fled into egypt and hid themselves under various forms. jupiter took the form of a ram, whence he was afterwards worshipped in egypt as the god ammon, with curved horns. apollo became a crow, bacchus a goat, diana a cat, juno a cow, venus a fish, mercury a bird. at another time the giants attempted to climb up into heaven, and for that purpose took up the mountain ossa and piled it on pelion. [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] they were at last subdued by thunderbolts, which minerva invented, and taught vulcan and his cyclopes to make for jupiter. the sphinx laius, king of thebes, was warned by an oracle that there was danger to his throne and life if his new-born son should be suffered to grow up. he therefore committed the child to the care of a herdsman with orders to destroy him; but the herdsman, moved with pity, yet not daring entirely to disobey, tied up the child by the feet and left him hanging to the branch of a tree. in this condition the infant was found by a peasant, who carried him to his master and mistress, by whom he was adopted and called oedipus, or swollen-foot. many years afterwards laius being on his way to delphi, accompanied only by one attendant, met in a narrow road a young man also driving in a chariot. on his refusal to leave the way at their command the attendant killed one of his horses, and the stranger, filled with rage, slew both laius and his attendant. the young man was oedipus, who thus unknowingly became the slayer of his own father. shortly after this event the city of thebes was afflicted with a monster which infested the highroad. it was called the sphinx. it had the body of a lion and the upper part of a woman. it lay crouched on the top of a rock, and arrested all travellers who came that way proposing to them a riddle, with the condition that those who could solve it should pass safe, but those who failed should be killed. not one had yet succeeded in solving it, and all had been slain. oedipus was not daunted by these alarming accounts, but boldly advanced to the trial. the sphinx asked him, "what animal is that which in the morning gees on four feet, at noon on two, and in the evening upon three?" oedipus replied, "man, who in childhood creeps on hands and knees, in manhood walks erect, and in old age with the aid of a staff." the sphinx was so mortified at the solving of her riddle that she cast herself down from the rock and perished. the gratitude of the people for their deliverance was so great that they made oedipus their king, giving him in marriage their queen jocasta. oedipus, ignorant of his parentage, had already become the slayer of his father; in marrying the queen he became the husband of his mother. these horrors remained undiscovered, till at length thebes was afflicted with famine and pestilence, and the oracle being consulted, the double crime of oedipus came to light. jocasta put an end to her own life, and oedipus, seized with madness, tore out his eyes and wandered away from thebes, dreaded and abandoned by all except his daughters, who faithfully adhered to him, till after a tedious period of miserable wandering he found the termination of his wretched life. pegasus and the chimaera when perseus cut off medusa's head, the blood sinking into the earth produced the winged horse pegasus. minerva caught him and tamed him and presented him to the muses. the fountain hippocrene, on the muses' mountain helicon, was opened by a kick from his hoof. the chimaera was a fearful monster, breathing fire. the fore part of its body was a compound of the lion and the goat, and the hind part a dragon's. it made great havoc in lycia, so that the king, iobates, sought for some hero to destroy it. at that time there arrived at his court a gallant young warrior, whose name was bellerophon. he brought letters from proetus, the son-in-law of iobates, recommending bellerophon in the warmest terms as an unconquerable hero, but added at the close a request to his father-in-law to put him to death. the reason was that proetus was jealous of him, suspecting that his wife antea looked with too much admiration on the young warrior. from this instance of bellerophon being unconsciously the bearer of his own death warrant, the expression "bellerophontic letters" arose, to describe any species of communication which a person is made the bearer of, containing matter prejudicial to himself. iobates, on perusing the letters, was puzzled what to do, not willing to violate the claims of hospitality, yet wishing to oblige his son-in-law. a lucky thought occurred to him, to send bellerophon to combat with the chimaera. bellerophon accepted the proposal, but before proceeding to the combat consulted the soothsayer polyidus, who advised him to procure if possible the horse pegasus for the conflict. for this purpose he directed him to pass the night in the temple of minerva. he did so, and as he slept minerva came to him and gave him a golden bridle. when he awoke the bridle remained in his hand. minerva also showed him pegasus drinking at the well of pirene, and at sight of the bridle the winged steed came willingly and suffered himself to be taken. bellerophon mounted him, rose with him into the air, soon found the chimaera, and gained an easy victory over the monster. after the conquest of the chimaera bellerophon was exposed to further trials and labors by his unfriendly host, but by the aid of pegasus he triumphed in them all, till at length iobates, seeing that the hero was a special favorite of the gods, gave him his daughter in marriage and made him his successor on the throne. at last bellerophon by his pride and presumption drew upon himself the anger of the gods; it is said he even attempted to fly up into heaven on his winged steed, but jupiter sent a gadfly which stung pegasus and made him throw his rider, who became lame and blind in consequence. after this bellerophon wandered lonely through the aleian field, avoiding the paths of men, and died miserably. milton alludes to bellerophon in the beginning of the seventh book of "paradise lost": "descend from heaven, urania, by that name if rightly thou art called, whose voice divine following above the olympian hill i soar, above the flight of pegasean wing upled by thee, into the heaven of heavens i have presumed, an earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air (thy tempering); with like safety guided down return me to my native element; lest from this flying steed unreined (as once bellerophon, though from a lower sphere), dismounted on the aleian field i fall, erroneous there to wander and forlorn." young, in his "night thoughts," speaking of the sceptic, says: "he whose blind thought futurity denies, unconscious bears, bellerophon, like thee his own indictment, he condemns himself. who reads his bosom reads immortal life, or nature there, imposing on her sons, has written fables; man was made a lie." vol ii, p pegasus, being the horse of the muses, has always been at the service of the poets. schiller tells a pretty story of his having been sold by a needy poet and put to the cart and the plough. he was not fit for such service, and his clownish master could make nothing of him but a youth stepped forth and asked leave to try him as soon as he was seated on his back the horse, which had appeared at first vicious, and afterwards spirit-broken, rose kingly, a spirit, a god, unfolded the splendor of his wings, and soared towards heaven. our own poet longfellow also records an adventure of this famous steed in his "pegasus in pound." shakspeare alludes to pegasus in "henry iv.," where vernon describes prince henry: "i saw young harry, with his beaver on, his cuishes on his thighs, gallantly armed, rise from the ground like feathered mercury, and vaulted with such ease into his seat, as if an angel dropped down from the clouds, to turn and wind a fiery pegasus, and witch the world with noble horsemanship" the centaurs these monsters were represented as men from the head to the loins, while the remainder of the body was that of a horse. the ancients were too fond of a horse to consider the union of his nature with man's as forming a very degraded compound, and accordingly the centaur is the only one of the fancied monsters of antiquity to which any good traits are assigned. the centaurs were admitted to the companionship of man, and at the marriage of pirithous with hippodamia they were among the guests. at the feast eurytion, one of the centaurs, becoming intoxicated with the wine, attempted to offer violence to the bride; the other centaurs followed his example, and a dreadful conflict arose in which several of them were slain. this is the celebrated battle of the lapithae and centaurs, a favorite subject with the sculptors and poets of antiquity. but not all the centaurs were like the rude guests of pirithous. chiron was instructed by apollo and diana, and was renowned for his skill in hunting, medicine, music, and the art of prophecy. the most distinguished heroes of grecian story were his pupils. among the rest the infant--aesculapius was intrusted to his charge by apollo, his father. when the sage returned to his home bearing the infant, his daughter ocyroe came forth to meet him, and at sight of the child burst forth into a prophetic strain (for she was a prophetess), foretelling the glory that he was to achieve aesculapius when grown up became a renowned physician, and even in one instance succeeded in restoring the dead to life. pluto resented this, and jupiter, at his request, struck the bold physician with lightning, and killed him, but after his death received him into the number of the gods. chiron was the wisest and justest of all the centaurs, and at his death jupiter placed him among the stars as the constellation sagittarius. the pygmies the pygmies were a nation of dwarfs, so called from a greek word which means the cubit or measure of about thirteen inches, which was said to be the height of these people. they lived near the sources of the nile, or according to others, in india. homer tells us that the cranes used to migrate every winter to the pygmies' country, and their appearance was the signal of bloody warfare to the puny inhabitants, who had to take up arms to defend their cornfields against the rapacious strangers. the pygmies and their enemies the cranes form the subject of several works of art. later writers tell of an army of pygmies which finding hercules asleep made preparations to attack him, as if they were about to attack a city. but the hero, awaking, laughed at the little warriors, wrapped some of them up in his lion's skin, and carried them to eurystheus. milton uses the pygmies for a simile, "paradise lost," book i.: "... like that pygmaean race beyond the indian mount, or fairy elves whose midnight revels by a forest side, or fountain, some belated peasant sees (or dreams he sees), while overhead the moon sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth wheels her pale course; they on their mirth and dance intent, with jocund music charm his ear. at once with joy and fear his heart rebounds." the griffin, or gryphon the griffin is a monster with the body of a lion, the head and wings of an eagle, and back covered with feathers. like birds it builds its nest, and instead of an egg lays an agate therein. it has long claws and talons of such a size that the people of that country make them into drinking-cups. india was assigned as the native country of the griffins. they found gold in the mountains and built their nests of it, for which reason their nests were very tempting to the hunters, and they were forced to keep vigilant guard over them. their instinct led them to know where buried treasures lay, and they did their best to keep plunderers at a distance. the arimaspians, among whom the griffins flourished, were a one-eyed people of scythia. milton borrows a simile from the griffins, "paradise lost," book ii,: "as when a gryphon through the wilderness, with winged course, o'er hill and moory dale, pursues the arimaspian who by stealth hath from his wakeful custody purloined his guarded gold," etc. chapter xvii the golden fleece--medea the golden fleece in very ancient times there lived in thessaly a king and queen named athamas and nephele. they had two children, a boy and a girl. after a time athamas grew indifferent to his wife, put her away, and took another. nephele suspected danger to her children from the influence of the step-mother, and took measures to send them out of her reach. mercury assisted her, and gave her a ram with a golden fleece, on which she set the two children, trusting that the ram would convey them to a place of safety. the ram vaulted into the air with the children on his back, taking his course to the east, till when crossing the strait that divides europe and asia, the girl, whose name was helle, fell from his back into the sea, which from her was called the hellespont,--now the dardanelles. the ram continued his career till he reached the kingdom of colchis, on the eastern shore of the black sea, where he safely landed the boy phryxus, who was hospitably received by aeetes, king of the country. phryxus sacrificed the ram to jupiter, and gave the golden fleece to aeetes, who placed it in a consecrated grove, under the care of a sleepless dragon. there was another kingdom in thessaly near to that of athamas, and ruled over by a relative of his. the king aeson, being tired of the cares of government, surrendered his crown to his brother pelias on condition that he should hold it only during the minority of jason, the son of aeson. when jason was grown up and came to demand the crown from his uncle, pelias pretended to be willing to yield it, but at the same time suggested to the young man the glorious adventure of going in quest of the golden fleece, which it was well known was in the kingdom of colchis, and was, as pelias pretended, the rightful property of their family. jason was pleased with the thought, and forthwith made preparations for the expedition. at that time the only species of navigation known to the greeks consisted of small boats or canoes hollowed out from trunks of trees, so that when jason employed argus to build him a vessel capable of containing fifty men, it was considered a gigantic undertaking. it was accomplished, however, and the vessel named "argo," from the name of the builder. jason sent his invitation to all the adventurous young men of greece, and soon found himself at the head of a band of bold youths, many of whom afterwards were renowned among the heroes and demigods of greece. hercules, theseus, orpheus, and nestor were among them. they are called the argonauts, from the name of their vessel. the "argo" with her crew of heroes left the shores of thessaly and having touched at the island of lemnos, thence crossed to mysia and thence to thrace. here they found the sage phineus, and from him received instruction as to their future course. it seems the entrance of the euxine sea was impeded by two small rocky islands, which floated on the surface, and in their tossings and heavings occasionally came together, crushing and grinding to atoms any object that might be caught between them. they were called the symplegades, or clashing islands. phineus instructed the argonauts how to pass this dangerous strait. when they reached the islands they let go a dove, which took her way between the rocks, and passed in safety, only losing some feathers of her tail. jason and his men seized the favorable moment of the rebound, plied their oars with vigor, and passed safe through, though the islands closed behind them, and actually grazed their stern. they now rowed along the shore till they arrived at the eastern end of the sea, and landed at the kingdom of colchis. jason made known his message to the colchian king, aeetes, who consented to give up the golden fleece if jason would yoke to the plough two fire-breathing bulls with brazen feet, and sow the teeth of the dragon which cadmus had slain, and from which it was well known that a crop of armed men would spring up, who would turn their weapons against their producer. jason accepted the conditions, and a time was set for making the experiment. previously, however, he found means to plead his cause to medea, daughter of the king. he promised her marriage, and as they stood before the altar of hecate, called the goddess to witness his oath. medea yielded, and by her aid, for she was a potent sorceress, he was furnished with a charm, by which he could encounter safely the breath of the fire-breathing bulls and the weapons of the armed men. at the time appointed, the people assembled at the grove of mars, and the king assumed his royal seat, while the multitude covered the hill-sides. the brazen-footed bulls rushed in, breathing fire from their nostrils that burned up the herbage as they passed. the sound was like the roar of a furnace, and the smoke like that of water upon quick-lime. jason advanced boldly to meet them. his friends, the chosen heroes of greece, trembled to behold him. regardless of the burning breath, he soothed their rage with his voice, patted their necks with fearless hand, and adroitly slipped over them the yoke, and compelled them to drag the plough. the colchians were amazed; the greeks shouted for joy. jason next proceeded to sow the dragon's teeth and plough them in. and soon the crop of armed men sprang up, and, wonderful to relate! no sooner had they reached the surface than they began to brandish their weapons and rush upon jason. the greeks trembled for their hero, and even she who had provided him a way of safety and taught him how to use it, medea herself, grew pale with fear. jason for a time kept his assailants at bay with his sword and shield, till, finding their numbers overwhelming, he resorted to the charm which medea had taught him, seized a stone and threw it in the midst of his foes. they immediately turned their arms against one another, and soon there was not one of the dragon's brood left alive. the greeks embraced their hero, and medea, if she dared, would have embraced him too. it remained to lull to sleep the dragon that guarded the fleece, and this was done by scattering over him a few drops of a preparation which medea had supplied. at the smell he relaxed his rage, stood for a moment motionless, then shut those great round eyes, that had never been known to shut before, and turned over on his side, fast asleep. jason seized the fleece and with his friends and medea accompanying, hastened to their vessel before aeetes the king could arrest their departure, and made the best of their way back to thessaly, where they arrived safe, and jason delivered the fleece to pelias, and dedicated the "argo" to neptune. what became of the fleece afterwards we do not know, but perhaps it was found after all, like many other golden prizes, not worth the trouble it had cost to procure it. this is one of those mythological tales, says a late writer, in which there is reason to believe that a substratum of truth exists, though overlaid by a mass of fiction. it probably was the first important maritime expedition, and like the first attempts of the kind of all nations, as we know from history, was probably of a half-piratical character. if rich spoils were the result it was enough to give rise to the idea of the golden fleece. another suggestion of a learned mythologist, bryant, is that it is a corrupt tradition of the story of noah and the ark. the name "argo" seems to countenance this, and the incident of the dove is another confirmation. pope, in his "ode on st. cecilia's day," thus celebrates the launching of the ship "argo," and the power of the music of orpheus, whom he calls the thracian: "so when the first bold vessel dared the seas, high on the stern the thracian raised his strain, while argo saw her kindred trees descend from pelion to the main. transported demigods stood round, and men grew heroes at the sound." in dyer's poem of "the fleece" there is an account of the ship "argo" and her crew, which gives a good picture of this primitive maritime adventure: "from every region of aegea's shore the brave assembled; those illustrious twins castor and pollux; orpheus, tuneful bard; zetes and calais, as the wind in speed; strong hercules and many a chief renowned. on deep iolcos' sandy shore they thronged, gleaming in armor, ardent of exploits; and soon, the laurel cord and the huge stone uplifting to the deck, unmoored the bark; whose keel of wondrous length the skilful hand of argus fashioned for the proud attempt; and in the extended keel a lofty mast upraised, and sails full swelling; to the chiefs unwonted objects. now first, now they learned their bolder steerage over ocean wave, led by the golden stars, as chiron's art had marked the sphere celestial," etc. hercules left the expedition at mysia, for hylas, a youth beloved by him, having gone for water, was laid hold of and kept by the nymphs of the spring, who were fascinated by his beauty. hercules went in quest of the lad, and while he was absent the "argo" put to sea and left him. moore, in one of his songs, makes a beautiful allusion to this incident: "when hylas was sent with his urn to the fount, through fields full of light and with heart full of play, light rambled the boy over meadow and mount, and neglected his task for the flowers in the way. "thus many like me, who in youth should have tasted the fountain that runs by philosophy's shrme, their time with the flowers on the margin have wasted, and left their light urns all as empty as mine." medea and aeson amid the rejoicings for the recovery of the golden fleece, jason felt that one thing was wanting, the presence of aeson, his father, who was prevented by his age and infirmities from taking part in them. jason said to medea, "my spouse, would that your arts, whose power i have seen so mighty for my aid, could do me one further service, take some years from my life and add them to my father's." medea replied, "not at such a cost shall it be done, but if my art avails me, his life shall be lengthened without abridging yours." the next full moon she issued forth alone, while all creatures slept; not a breath stirred the foliage, and all was still. to the stars she addressed her incantations, and to the moon; to hecate, [footnote: hecate was a mysterious divinity sometimes identified with diana and sometimes with proserpine. as diana represents the moonlight splendor of night, so hecate represents its darkness and terrors. she was the goddess of sorcery and witchcraft, and was believed to wander by night along the earth, seen only by the dogs, whose barking told her approach.] the goddess of the underworld, and to tellus the goddess of the earth, by whose power plants potent for enchantment are produced. she invoked the gods of the woods and caverns, of mountains and valleys, of lakes and rivers, of winds and vapors. while she spoke the stars shone brighter, and presently a chariot descended through the air, drawn by flying serpents. she ascended it, and borne aloft made her way to distant regions, where potent plants grew which she knew how to select for her purpose. nine nights she employed in her search, and during that time came not within the doors of her palace nor under any roof, and shunned all intercourse with mortals. she next erected two altars, the one to hecate, the other to hebe, the goddess of youth, and sacrificed a black sheep, pouring libations of milk and wine. she implored pluto and his stolen bride that they would not hasten to take the old man's life. then she directed that aeson should be led forth, and having thrown him into a deep sleep by a charm, had him laid on a bed of herbs, like one dead. jason and all others were kept away from the place, that no profane eyes might look upon her mysteries. then, with streaming hair, she thrice moved round the altars, dipped flaming twigs in the blood, and laid them thereon to burn. meanwhile the caldron with its contents was got ready. in it she put magic herbs, with seeds and flowers of acrid juice, stones from the distant east, and sand from the shore of all-surrounding ocean; hoar frost, gathered by moonlight, a screech owl's head and wings, and the entrails of a wolf. she added fragments of the shells of tortoises, and the liver of stags,--animals tenacious of life,-- and the head and beak of a crow, that outlives nine generations of men. these with many other things "without a name" she boiled together for her purposed work, stirring them up with a dry olive branch; and behold! the branch when taken out instantly became green, and before long was covered with leaves and a plentiful growth of young olives; and as the liquor boiled and bubbled, and sometimes ran over, the grass wherever the sprinklings fell shot forth with a verdure like that of spring. seeing that all was ready, medea cut the throat of the old man and let out all his blood, and poured into his mouth and into his wound the juices of her caldron. as soon as he had completely imbibed them, his hair and beard laid by their whiteness and assumed the blackness of youth; his paleness and emaciation were gone; his veins were full of blood, his limbs of vigor and robustness. aeson is amazed at himself, and remembers that such as he now is, he was in his youthful days, forty years before. medea used her arts here for a good purpose, but not so in another instance, where she made them the instruments of revenge. pelias, our readers will recollect, was the usurping uncle of jason, and had kept him out of his kingdom. yet he must have had some good qualities, for his daughters loved him, and when they saw what medea had done for aeson, they wished her to do the same for their father. medea pretended to consent, and prepared her caldron as before. at her request an old sheep was brought and plunged into the caldron. very soon a bleating was heard in the kettle, and when the cover was removed, a lamb jumped forth and ran frisking away into the meadow. the daughters of pelias saw the experiment with delight, and appointed a time for their father to undergo the same operation. but medea prepared her caldron for him in a very different way. she put in only water and a few simple herbs. in the night she with the sisters entered the bed chamber of the old king, while he and his guards slept soundly under the influence of a spell cast upon them by medea. the daughters stood by the bedside with their weapons drawn, but hesitated to strike, till medea chid their irresolution. then turning away their faces, and giving random blows, they smote him with their weapons. he, starting from his sleep, cried out, "my daughters, what are you doing? will you kill your father?" their hearts failed them and their weapons fell from their hands, but medea struck him a fatal blow, and prevented his saying more. then they placed him in the caldron, and medea hastened to depart in her serpent-drawn chariot before they discovered her treachery, or their vengeance would have been terrible. she escaped, however, but had little enjoyment of the fruits of her crime. jason, for whom she had done so much, wishing to marry creusa, princess of corinth, put away medea. she, enraged at his ingratitude, called on the gods for vengeance, sent a poisoned robe as a gift to the bride, and then killing her own children, and setting fire to the palace, mounted her serpent-drawn chariot and fled to athens, where she married king aegeus, the father of theseus, and we shall meet her again when we come to the adventures of that hero. the incantations of medea will remind the reader of those of the witches in "macbeth." the following lines are those which seem most strikingly to recall the ancient model: "round about the caldron go; in the poisoned entrails throw. fillet of a fenny snake in the caldron boil and bake; eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog, adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, lizard's leg and howlet's wing: maw of ravening salt-sea shark, root of hemlock digged in the dark," etc --macbeth, act iv, scene and again: macbeth.--what is't you do? witches,--a deed without a name. there is another story of medea almost too revolting for record even of a sorceress, a class of persons to whom both ancient and modern poets have been accustomed to attribute every degree of atrocity. in her flight from colchis she had taken her young brother absyrtus with her. finding the pursuing vessels of aeetes gaining upon the argonauts, she caused the lad to be killed and his limbs to be strewn over the sea. aeetes on reaching the place found these sorrowful traces of his murdered son; but while he tarried to collect the scattered fragments and bestow upon them an honorable interment, the argonauts escaped. in the poems of campbell will be found a translation of one of the choruses of the tragedy of "medea," where the poet euripides has taken advantage of the occasion to pay a glowing tribute to athens, his native city. it begins thus: "o haggard queen! to athens dost thou guide thy glowing chariot, steeped in kindred gore; or seek to hide thy damned parricide where peace and justice dwell for evermore?" chapter xviii meleager and atalanta one of the heroes of the argonautic expedition was meleager, son of oeneus and althea, king and queen of calydon. althea, when her son was born, beheld the three destinies, who, as they spun their fatal thread, foretold that the life of the child should last no longer than a brand then burning upon the hearth. althea seized and quenched the brand, and carefully preserved it for years, while meleager grew to boyhood, youth, and manhood. it chanced, then, that oeneus, as he offered sacrifices to the gods, omitted to pay due honors to diana; and she, indignant at the neglect, sent a wild boar of enormous size to lay waste the fields of calydon. its eyes shone with blood and fire, its bristles stood like threatening spears, its tusks were like those of indian elephants. the growing corn was trampled, the vines and olive trees laid waste, the flocks and herds were driven in wild confusion by the slaughtering foe. all common aid seemed vain; but meleager called on the heroes of greece to join in a bold hunt for the ravenous monster. theseus and his friend pirithous, jason, peleus, afterwards the father of achilles, telamon the father of ajax, nestor, then a youth, but who in his age bore arms with achilles and ajax in the trojan war,--these and many more joined in the enterprise. with them came atalanta, the daughter of iasius, king of arcadia. a buckle of polished gold confined her vest, an ivory quiver hung on her left shoulder, and her left hand bore the bow. her face blent feminine beauty with the best graces of martial youth. meleager saw and loved. but now already they were near the monster's lair. they stretched strong nets from tree to tree; they uncoupled their dogs, they tried to find the footprints of their quarry in the grass. from the wood was a descent to marshy ground. here the boar, as he lay among the reeds, heard the shouts of his pursuers, and rushed forth against them. one and another is thrown down and slain. jason throws his spear, with a prayer to diana for success; and the favoring goddess allows the weapon to touch, but not to wound, removing the steel point of the spear in its flight. nestor, assailed, seeks and finds safety in the branches of a tree. telamon rushes on, but stumbling at a projecting root, falls prone. but an arrow from atalanta at length for the first time tastes the monster's blood. it is a slight wound, but meleager sees and joyfully proclaims it. anceus, excited to envy by the praise given to a female, loudly proclaims his own valor, and defies alike the boar and the goddess who had sent it; but as he rushes on, the infuriated beast lays him low with a mortal wound. theseus throws his lance, but it is turned aside by a projecting bough. the dart of jason misses its object, and kills instead one of their own dogs. but meleager, after one unsuccessful stroke, drives his spear into the monster's side, then rushes on and despatches him with repeated blows. then rose a shout from those around; they congratulated the conqueror, crowding to touch his hand. he, placing his foot upon the head of the slain boar, turned to atalanta and bestowed on her the head and the rough hide which were the trophies of his success. but at this, envy excited the rest to strife. plexippus and toxeus, the brothers of meleager's mother, beyond the rest opposed the gift, and snatched from the maiden the trophy she had received. meleager, kindling with rage at the wrong done to himself, and still more at the insult offered to her whom he loved, forgot the claims of kindred, and plunged his sword into the offenders' hearts. as althea bore gifts of thankfulness to the temples for the victory of her son, the bodies of her murdered brothers met her sight. she shrieks, and beats her breast, and hastens to change the garments of rejoicing for those of mourning. but when the author of the deed is known, grief gives way to the stern desire of vengeance on her son. the fatal brand, which once she rescued from the flames, the brand which the destinies had linked with meleager's life, she brings forth, and commands a fire to be prepared. then four times she essays to place the brand upon the pile; four times draws back, shuddering at the thought of bringing destruction on her son. the feelings of the mother and the sister contend within her. now she is pale at the thought of the proposed deed, now flushed again with anger at the act of her son. as a vessel, driven in one direction by the wind, and in the opposite by the tide, the mind of althea hangs suspended in uncertainty. but now the sister prevails above the mother, and she begins as she holds the fatal wood: "turn, ye furies, goddesses of punishment! turn to behold the sacrifice i bring! crime must atone for crime. shall oeneus rejoice in his victor son, while the house of thestius is desolate? but, alas! to what deed am i borne along? brothers forgive a mother's weakness! my hand fails me. he deserves death, but not that i should destroy him. but shall he then live, and triumph, and reign over calydon, while you, my brothers, wander unavenged among the shades? no! thou hast lived by my gift; die, now, for thine own crime. return the life which twice i gave thee, first at thy birth, again when i snatched this brand from the flames. o that thou hadst then died! alas! evil is the conquest; but, brothers, ye have conquered." and, turning away her face, she threw the fatal wood upon the burning pile. it gave, or seemed to give, a deadly groan. meleager, absent and unknowing of the cause, felt a sudden pang. he burns, and only by courageous pride conquers the pain which destroys him. he mourns only that he perishes by a bloodless and unhonored death. with his last breath he calls upon his aged father, his brother, and his fond sisters, upon his beloved atalanta, and upon his mother, the unknown cause of his fate. the flames increase, and with them the pain of the hero. now both subside; now both are quenched. the brand is ashes, and the life of meleager is breathed forth to the wandering winds. althea, when the deed was done, laid violent hands upon herself. the sisters of meleager mourned their brother with uncontrollable grief; till diana, pitying the sorrows of the house that once had aroused her anger, turned them into birds. atalanta the innocent cause of so much sorrow was a maiden whose face you might truly say was boyish for a girl, yet too girlish for a boy. her fortune had been told, and it was to this effect: "atalanta, do not marry; marriage will be your ruin." terrified by this oracle, she fled the society of men, and devoted herself to the sports of the chase. to all suitors (for she had many) she imposed a condition which was generally effectual in relieving her of their persecutions,--"i will be the prize of him who shall conquer me in the race; but death must be the penalty of all who try and fail." in spite of this hard condition some would try. hippomenes was to be judge of the race. "can it be possible that any will be so rash as to risk so much for a wife?" said he. but when he saw her lay aside her robe for the race, he changed his mind, and said, "pardon me, youths, i knew not the prize you were competing for." as he surveyed them he wished them all to be beaten, and swelled with envy of any one that seemed at all likely to win. while such were his thoughts, the virgin darted forward. as she ran she looked more beautiful than ever. the breezes seemed to give wings to her feet; her hair flew over her shoulders, and the gay fringe of her garment fluttered behind her. a ruddy hue tinged the whiteness of her skin, such as a crimson curtain casts on a marble wall. all her competitors were distanced, and were put to death without mercy. hippomenes, not daunted by this result, fixing his eyes on the virgin, said, "why boast of beating those laggards? i offer myself for the contest." atalanta looked at him with a pitying countenance, and hardly knew whether she would rather conquer him or not. "what god can tempt one so young and handsome to throw himself away? i pity him, not for his beauty (yet he is beautiful), but for his youth. i wish he would give up the race, or if he will be so mad, i hope he may outrun me." while she hesitates, revolving these thoughts, the spectators grow impatient for the race, and her father prompts her to prepare. then hippomenes addressed a prayer to venus: "help me, venus, for you have led me on." venus heard and was propitious. in the garden of her temple, in her own island of cyprus, is a tree with yellow leaves and yellow branches and golden fruit. hence she gathered three golden apples, and, unseen by any one else, gave them to hippomenes, and told him how to use them. the signal is given; each starts from the goal and skims over the sand. so light their tread, you would almost have thought they might run over the river surface or over the waving grain without sinking. the cries of the spectators cheered hippomenes,--"now, now, do your best! haste, haste! you gain on her! relax not! one more effort!" it was doubtful whether the youth or the maiden heard these cries with the greater pleasure. but his breath began to fail him, his throat was dry, the goal yet far off. at that moment he threw down one of the golden apples. the virgin was all amazement. she stopped to pick it up. hippomenes shot ahead. shouts burst forth from all sides. she redoubled her efforts, and soon overtook him. again he threw an apple. she stopped again, but again came up with him. the goal was near; one chance only remained. "now, goddess," said he, "prosper your gift!" and threw the last apple off at one side. she looked at it, and hesitated; venus impelled her to turn aside for it. she did so, and was vanquished. the youth carried off his prize. but the lovers were so full of their own happiness that they forgot to pay due honor to venus; and the goddess was provoked at their ingratitude. she caused them to give offence to cybele. that powerful goddess was not to be insulted with impunity. she took from them their human form and turned them into animals of characters resembling their own: of the huntress-heroine, triumphing in the blood of her lovers, she made a lioness, and of her lord and master a lion, and yoked them to her car, where they are still to be seen in all representations, in statuary or painting, of the goddess cybele. cybele is the latin name of the goddess called by the greeks rhea and ops. she was the wife of cronos and mother of zeus. in works of art she exhibits the matronly air which distinguishes juno and ceres. sometimes she is veiled, and seated on a throne with lions at her side, at other times riding in a chariot drawn by lions. she wears a mural crown, that is, a crown whose rim is carved in the form of towers and battlements. her priests were called corybantes. byron, in describing the city of venice, which is built on a low island in the adriatic sea, borrows an illustration from cybele: "she looks a sea-cybele fresh from ocean, rising with her tiara of proud towers at airy distance, with majestic motion, a ruler of the waters and their powers." --childe harold, iv. in moore's "rhymes on the road," the poet, speaking of alpine scenery, alludes to the story of atalanta and hippomenes thus: "even here, in this region of wonders, i find that light-footed fancy leaves truth far behind, or at least, like hippomenes, turns her astray by the golden illusions he flings in her way." chapter xix hercules--hebe and ganymede hercules hercules was the son of jupiter and alcmena. as juno was always hostile to the offspring of her husband by mortal mothers, she declared war against hercules from his birth. she sent two serpents to destroy him as he lay in his cradle, but the precocious infant strangled them with his own hands. he was, however, by the arts of juno rendered subject to eurystheus and compelled to perform all his commands. eurystheus enjoined upon him a succession of desperate adventures, which are called the "twelve labors of hercules." the first was the fight with the nemean lion. the valley of nemea was infested by a terrible lion. eurystheus ordered hercules to bring him the skin of this monster. after using in vain his club and arrows against the lion, hercules strangled the animal with his hands. he returned carrying the dead lion on his shoulders; but eurystheus was so frightened at the sight of it and at this proof of the prodigious strength of the hero, that he ordered him to deliver the account of his exploits in future outside the town. his next labor was the slaughter of the hydra. this monster ravaged the country of argos, and dwelt in a swamp near the well of amymone. this well had been discovered by amymone when the country was suffering from drought, and the story was that neptune, who loved her, had permitted her to touch the rock with his trident, and a spring of three outlets burst forth. here the hydra took up his position, and hercules was sent to destroy him. the hydra had nine heads, of which the middle one was immortal. hercules struck off its heads with his club, but in the place of the head knocked off, two new ones grew forth each time. at length with the assistance of his faithful servant iolaus, he burned away the heads of the hydra, and buried the ninth or immortal one under a huge rock. another labor was the cleaning of the augean stables. augeas, king of elis, had a herd of three thousand oxen, whose stalls had not been cleansed for thirty years. hercules brought the rivers alpheus and peneus through them, and cleansed them thoroughly in one day. his next labor was of a more delicate kind. admeta, the daughter of eurystheus, longed to obtain the girdle of the queen of the amazons, and eurystheus ordered hercules to go and get it. the amazons were a nation of women. they were very warlike and held several flourishing cities. it was their custom to bring up only the female children; the boys were either sent away to the neighboring nations or put to death. hercules was accompanied by a number of volunteers, and after various adventures at last reached the country of the amazons. hippolyta, the queen, received him kindly, and consented to yield him her girdle, but juno, taking the form of an amazon, went and persuaded the rest that the strangers were carrying off their queen. they instantly armed and came in great numbers down to the ship. hercules, thinking that hippolyta had acted treacherously, slew her, and taking her girdle made sail homewards. another task enjoined him was to bring to eurystheus the oxen of geryon, a monster with three bodies, who dwelt in the island erytheia (the red), so called because it lay at the west, under the rays of the setting sun. this description is thought to apply to spain, of which geryon was king. after traversing various countries, hercules reached at length the frontiers of libya and europe, where he raised the two mountains of calpe and abyla, as monuments of his progress, or, according to another account, rent one mountain into two and left half on each side, forming the straits of gibraltar, the two mountains being called the pillars of hercules. the oxen were guarded by the giant eurytion and his two-headed dog, but hercules killed the giant and his dog and brought away the oxen in safety to eurystheus. the most difficult labor of all was getting the golden apples of the hesperides, for hercules did not know where to find them. these were the apples which juno had received at her wedding from the goddess of the earth, and which she had intrusted to the keeping of the daughters of hesperus, assisted by a watchful dragon. after various adventures hercules arrived at mount atlas in africa. atlas was one of the titans who had warred against the gods, and after they were subdued, atlas was condemned to bear on his shoulders the weight of the heavens. he was the father of the hesperides, and hercules thought might, if any one could, find the apples and bring them to him. but how to send atlas away from his post, or bear up the heavens while he was gone? hercules took the burden on his own shoulders, and sent atlas to seek the apples. he returned with them, and though somewhat reluctantly, took his burden upon his shoulders again, and let hercules return with the apples to eurystheus. milton, in his "comus," makes the hesperides the daughters of hesperus and nieces of atlas: "... amidst the gardens fair of hesperus and his daughters three, that sing about the golden tree." the poets, led by the analogy of the lovely appearance of the western sky at sunset, viewed the west as a region of brightness and glory. hence they placed in it the isles of the blest, the ruddy isle erythea, on which the bright oxen of geryon were pastured, and the isle of the hesperides. the apples are supposed by some to be the oranges of spain, of which the greeks had heard some obscure accounts. a celebrated exploit of hercules was his victory over antaeus. antaeus, the son of terra, the earth, was a mighty giant and wrestler, whose strength was invincible so long as he remained in contact with his mother earth. he compelled all strangers who came to his country to wrestle with him, on condition that if conquered (as they all were) they should be put to death. hercules encountered him, and finding that it was of no avail to throw him, for he always rose with renewed strength from every fall, he lifted him up from the earth and strangled him in the air. cacus was a huge giant, who inhabited a cave on mount aventine, and plundered the surrounding country. when hercules was driving home the oxen of geryon, cacus stole part of the cattle, while the hero slept. that their footprints might not serve to show where they had been driven, he dragged them backward by their tails to his cave; so their tracks all seemed to show that they had gone in the opposite direction. hercules was deceived by this stratagem, and would have failed to find his oxen, if it had not happened that in driving the remainder of the herd past the cave where the stolen ones were concealed, those within began to low, and were thus discovered. cacus was slain by hercules. the last exploit we shall record was bringing cerberus from the lower world. hercules descended into hades, accompanied by mercury and minerva. he obtained permission from pluto to carry cerberus to the upper air, provided he could do it without the use of weapons; and in spite of the monster's struggling, he seized him, held him fast, and carried him to eurystheus, and afterwards brought him back again. when he was in hades he obtained the liberty of theseus, his admirer and imitator, who had been detained a prisoner there for an unsuccessful attempt to carry off proserpine. hercules in a fit of madness killed his friend iphitus, and was condemned for this offence to become the slave of queen omphale for three years. while in this service the hero's nature seemed changed. he lived effeminately, wearing at times the dress of a woman, and spinning wool with the hand-maidens of omphale, while the queen wore his lion's skin. when this service was ended he married dejanira and lived in peace with her three years. on one occasion as he was travelling with his wife, they came to a river, across which the centaur nessus carried travellers for a stated fee. hercules himself forded the river, but gave dejanira to nessus to be carried across. nessus attempted to run away with her, but hercules heard her cries and shot an arrow into the heart of nessus. the dying centaur told dejanira to take a portion of his blood and keep it, as it might be used as a charm to preserve the love of her husband. dejanira did so and before long fancied she had occasion to use it. hercules in one of his conquests had taken prisoner a fair maiden, named iole, of whom he seemed more fond than dejanira approved. when hercules was about to offer sacrifices to the gods in honor of his victory, he sent to his wife for a white robe to use on the occasion. dejanira, thinking it a good opportunity to try her love-spell, steeped the garment in the blood of nessus. we are to suppose she took care to wash out all traces of it, but the magic power remained, and as soon as the garment became warm on the body of hercules the poison penetrated into all his limbs and caused him the most intense agony. in his frenzy he seized lichas, who had brought him the fatal robe, and hurled him into the sea. he wrenched off the garment, but it stuck to his flesh, and with it he tore away whole pieces of his body. in this state he embarked on board a ship and was conveyed home. dejanira, on seeing what she had unwittingly done, hung herself. hercules, prepared to die, ascended mount oeta, where he built a funeral pile of trees, gave his bow and arrows to philoctetes, and laid himself down on the pile, his head resting on his club, and his lion's skin spread over him. with a countenance as serene as if he were taking his place at a festal board he commanded philoctetes to apply the torch. the flames spread apace and soon invested the whole mass. milton thus alludes to the frenzy of hercules: "as when alcides, from oechalia crowned with conquest, felt the envenomed robe, and tore, through pain, up by the roots thessalian pines and lichas from the top of oeta threw into the euboic sea." [footnote: alcides, a name of hercules.] the gods themselves felt troubled at seeing the champion of the earth so brought to his end. but jupiter with cheerful countenance thus addressed them: "i am pleased to see your concern, my princes, and am gratified to perceive that i am the ruler of a loyal people, and that my son enjoys your favor. for although your interest in him arises from his noble deeds, yet it is not the less gratifying to me. but now i say to you, fear not. he who conquered all else is not to be conquered by those flames which you see blazing on mount oeta. only his mother's share in him can perish; what he derived from me is immortal. i shall take him, dead to earth, to the heavenly shores, and i require of you all to receive him kindly. if any of you feel grieved at his attaining this honor, yet no one can deny that he has deserved it." the gods all gave their assent; juno only heard the closing words with some displeasure that she should be so particularly pointed at, yet not enough to make her regret the determination of her husband. so when the flames had consumed the mother's share of hercules, the diviner part, instead of being injured thereby, seemed to start forth with new vigor, to assume a more lofty port and a more awful dignity. jupiter enveloped him in a cloud, and took him up in a four-horse chariot to dwell among the stars. as he took his place in heaven, atlas felt the added weight. juno, now reconciled to him, gave him her daughter hebe in marriage. the poet schiller, in one of his pieces called the "ideal and life," illustrates the contrast between the practical and the imaginative in some beautiful stanzas, of which the last two may be thus translated: "deep degraded to a coward's slave, endless contests bore alcides brave, through the thorny path of suffering led; slew the hydra, crushed the lion's might, threw himself, to bring his friend to light, living, in the skiff that bears the dead. all the torments, every toil of earth juno's hatred on him could impose, well he bore them, from his fated birth to life's grandly mournful close. "till the god, the earthly part forsaken, from the man in flames asunder taken, drank the heavenly ether's purer breath. joyous in the new unwonted lightness, soared he upwards to celestial brightness, earth's dark heavy burden lost in death. high olympus gives harmonious greeting to the hall where reigns his sire adored; youth's bright goddess, with a blush at meeting, gives the nectar to her lord." --s. g. b. hebe and ganymede hebe, the daughter of juno, and goddess of youth, was cup-bearer to the gods. the usual story is that she resigned her office on becoming the wife of hercules. but there is another statement which our countryman crawford, the sculptor, has adopted in his group of hebe and ganymede, now in the athenaeum gallery. according to this, hebe was dismissed from her office in consequence of a fall which she met with one day when in attendance on the gods. her successor was ganymede, a trojan boy, whom jupiter, in the disguise of an eagle, seized and carried off from the midst of his playfellows on mount ida, bore up to heaven, and installed in the vacant place. tennyson, in his "palace of art," describes among the decorations on the walls a picture representing this legend: "there, too, flushed ganymede, his rosy thigh half buried in the eagle's down, sole as a flying star shot through the sky above the pillared town." and in shelley's "prometheus" jupiter calls to his cup-bearer thus: "pour forth heaven's wine, idaean ganymede, and let it fill the daedal cups like fire." the beautiful legend of the "choice of hercules" may be found in the "tatler," no. . chapter xx theseus--daedalus--castor and pollux theseus theseus was the son of aegeus, king of athens, and of aethra, daughter of the king of troezen. he was brought up at troezen, and when arrived at manhood was to proceed to athens and present himself to his father. aegeus on parting from aethra, before the birth of his son, placed his sword and shoes under a large stone and directed her to send his son to him when he became strong enough to roll away the stone and take them from under it. when she thought the time had come, his mother led theseus to the stone, and he removed it with ease and took the sword and shoes. as the roads were infested with robbers, his grandfather pressed him earnestly to take the shorter and safer way to his father's country--by sea; but the youth, feeling in himself the spirit and the soul of a hero, and eager to signalize himself like hercules, with whose fame all greece then rang, by destroying the evil-doers and monsters that oppressed the country, determined on the more perilous and adventurous journey by land. his first day's journey brought him to epidaurus, where dwelt a man named periphetes, a son of vulcan. this ferocious savage always went armed with a club of iron, and all travellers stood in terror of his violence. when he saw theseus approach he assailed him, but speedily fell beneath the blows of the young hero, who took possession of his club and bore it ever afterwards as a memorial of his first victory. several similar contests with the petty tyrants and marauders of the country followed, in all of which theseus was victorious. one of these evil-doers was called procrustes, or the stretcher. he had an iron bedstead, on which he used to tie all travellers who fell into his hands. if they were shorter than the bed, he stretched their limbs to make them fit it; if they were longer than the bed, he lopped off a portion. theseus served him as he had served others. having overcome all the perils of the road, theseus at length reached athens, where new dangers awaited him. medea, the sorceress, who had fled from corinth after her separation from jason, had become the wife of aegeus, the father of theseus. knowing by her arts who he was, and fearing the loss of her influence with her husband if theseus should be acknowledged as his son, she filled the mind of aegeus with suspicions of the young stranger, and induced him to present him a cup of poison; but at the moment when theseus stepped forward to take it, the sight of the sword which he wore discovered to his father who he was, and prevented the fatal draught. medea, detected in her arts, fled once more from deserved punishment, and arrived in asia, where the country afterwards called media received its name from her, theseus was acknowledged by his father, and declared his successor. the athenians were at that time in deep affliction, on account of the tribute which they were forced to pay to minos, king of crete. this tribute consisted of seven youths and seven maidens, who were sent every year to be devoured by the minotaur, a monster with a bull's body and a human head. it was exceedingly strong and fierce, and was kept in a labyrinth constructed by daedalus, so artfully contrived that whoever was enclosed in it could by no means, find his way out unassisted. here the minotaur roamed, and was fed with human victims. theseus resolved to deliver his countrymen from this calamity, or to die in the attempt. accordingly, when the time of sending off the tribute came, and the youths and maidens were, according to custom, drawn by lot to be sent, he offered himself as one of the victims, in spite of the entreaties of his father. the ship departed under black sails, as usual, which theseus promised his father to change for white, in case of his returning victorious. when they arrived in crete, the youths and maidens were exhibited before minos; and ariadne, the daughter of the king, being present, became deeply enamored of theseus, by whom her love was readily returned. she furnished him with a sword, with which to encounter the minotaur, and with a clew of thread by which he might find his way out of the labyrinth. he was successful, slew the minotaur, escaped from the labyrinth, and taking ariadne as the companion of his way, with his rescued companions sailed for athens. on their way they stopped at the island of naxos, where theseus abandoned ariadne, leaving her asleep. [footnote: one of the finest pieces of sculpture in italy, the recumbent ariadne of the vatican, represents this incident. a copy is owned by the athenaeum, boston, and deposited, in the museum of fine arts.] his excuse for this ungrateful treatment of his benefactress was that minerva appeared to him in a dream and commanded him to do so. on approaching the coast of attica, theseus forgot the signal appointed by his father, and neglected to raise the white sails, and the old king, thinking his son had perished, put an end to his own life. theseus thus became king of athens. one of the most celebrated of the adventures of theseus is his expedition against the amazons. he assailed them before they had recovered from the attack of hercules, and carried off their queen antiope. the amazons in their turn invaded the country of athens and penetrated into the city itself; and the final battle in which theseus overcame them was fought in the very midst of the city. this battle was one of the favorite subjects of the ancient sculptors, and is commemorated in several works of art that are still extant. the friendship between theseus and pirithous was of a most intimate nature, yet it originated in the midst of arms. pirithous had made an irruption into the plain of marathon, and carried off the herds of the king of athens. theseus went to repel the plunderers. the moment pirithous beheld him, he was seized with admiration; he stretched out his hand as a token of peace, and cried, "be judge thyself--what satisfaction dost thou require?" "thy friendship," replied the athenian, and they swore inviolable fidelity. their deeds corresponded to their professions, and they ever continued true brothers in arms. each of them aspired to espouse a daughter of jupiter. theseus fixed his choice on helen, then but a child, afterwards so celebrated as the cause of the trojan war, and with the aid of his friend he carried her off. pirithous aspired to the wife of the monarch of erebus; and theseus, though aware of the danger, accompanied the ambitious lover in his descent to the under-world. but pluto seized and set them on an enchanted rock at his palace gate, where they remained till hercules arrived and liberated theseus, leaving pirithous to his fate. after the death of antiope, theseus married phaedra, daughter of minos, king of crete. phaedra saw in hippolytus, the son of theseus, a youth endowed with all the graces and virtues of his father, and of an age corresponding to her own. she loved him, but he repulsed her advances, and her love was changed to hate. she used her influence over her infatuated husband to cause him to be jealous of his son, and he imprecated the vengeance of neptune upon him. as hippolytus was one day driving his chariot along the shore, a sea-monster raised himself above the waters, and frightened the horses so that they ran away and dashed the chariot to pieces. hippolytus was killed, but by diana's assistance aesculapius restored him to life. diana removed hippolytus from the power of his deluded father and false stepmother, and placed him in italy under the protection of the nymph egeria. theseus at length lost the favor of his people, and retired to the court of lycomedes, king of scyros, who at first received him kindly, but afterwards treacherously slew him. in a later age the athenian general cimon discovered the place where his remains were laid, and caused them to be removed to athens, where they were deposited in a temple called the theseum, erected in honor of the hero. the queen of the amazons whom theseus espoused is by some called hippolyta. that is the name she bears in shakspeare's "midsummer night's dream,"--the subject of which is the festivities attending the nuptials of theseus and hippolyta. mrs. hemans has a poem on the ancient greek tradition that the "shade of theseus" appeared strengthening his countrymen at the battle of marathon. theseus is a semi-historical personage. it is recorded of him that he united the several tribes by whom the territory of attica was then possessed into one state, of which athens was the capital. in commemoration of this important event, he instituted the festival of panathenaea, in honor of minerva, the patron deity of athens. this festival differed from the other grecian games chiefly in two particulars. it was peculiar to the athenians, and its chief feature was a solemn procession in which the peplus, or sacred robe of minerva, was carried to the parthenon, and suspended before the statue of the goddess. the peplus was covered with embroidery, worked by select virgins of the noblest families in athens. the procession consisted of persons of all ages and both sexes. the old men carried olive branches in their hands, and the young men bore arms. the young women carried baskets on their heads, containing the sacred utensils, cakes, and all things necessary for the sacrifices. the procession formed the subject of the bas-reliefs which embellished the outside of the temple of the parthenon. a considerable portion of these sculptures is now in the british museum among those known as the "elgin marbles." olympic and other games it seems not inappropriate to mention here the other celebrated national games of the greeks. the first and most distinguished were the olympic, founded, it was said, by jupiter himself. they were celebrated at olympia in elis. vast numbers of spectators flocked to them from every part of greece, and from asia, africa, and sicily. they were repeated every fifth year in mid-summer, and continued five days. they gave rise to the custom of reckoning time and dating events by olympiads. the first olympiad is generally considered as corresponding with the year b.c. the pythian games were celebrated in the vicinity of delphi, the isthmian on the corinthian isthmus, the nemean at nemea, a city of argolis. the exercises in these games were of five sorts: running, leaping, wrestling, throwing the quoit, and hurling the javelin, or boxing. besides these exercises of bodily strength and agility, there were contests in music, poetry, and eloquence. thus these games furnished poets, musicians, and authors the best opportunities to present their productions to the public, and the fame of the victors was diffused far and wide. daedalus the labyrinth from which theseus escaped by means of the clew of ariadne was built by daedalus, a most skilful artificer. it was an edifice with numberless winding passages and turnings opening into one another, and seeming to have neither beginning nor end, like the river maeander, which returns on itself, and flows now onward, now backward, in its course to the sea. daedalus built the labyrinth for king minos, but afterwards lost the favor of the king, and was shut up in a tower. he contrived to make his escape from his prison, but could not leave the island by sea, as the king kept strict watch on all the vessels, and permitted none to sail without being carefully searched. "minos may control the land and sea," said daedalus, "but not the regions of the air. i will try that way." so he set to work to fabricate wings for himself and his young son icarus. he wrought feathers together, beginning with the smallest and adding larger, so as to form an increasing surface. the larger ones he secured with thread and the smaller with wax, and gave the whole a gentle curvature like the wings of a bird. icarus, the boy, stood and looked on, sometimes running to gather up the feathers which the wind had blown away, and then handling the wax and working it over with his fingers, by his play impeding his father in his labors. when at last the work was done, the artist, waving his wings, found himself buoyed upward, and hung suspended, poising himself on the beaten air. he next equipped his son in the same manner, and taught him how to fly, as a bird tempts her young ones from the lofty nest into the air. when all was prepared for flight he said, "icarus, my son, i charge you to keep at a moderate height, for if you fly too low the damp will clog your wings, and if too high the heat will melt them. keep near me and you will be safe." while he gave him these instructions and fitted the wings to his shoulders, the face of the father was wet with tears, and his hands trembled. he kissed the boy, not knowing that it was for the last time. then rising on his wings, he flew off, encouraging him to follow, and looked back from his own flight to see how his son managed his wings. as they flew the ploughman stopped his work to gaze, and the shepherd leaned on his staff and watched them, astonished at the sight, and thinking they were gods who could thus cleave the air. they passed samos and delos on the left and lebynthos on the right, when the boy, exulting in his career, began to leave the guidance of his companion and soar upward as if to reach heaven. the nearness of the blazing sun softened the wax which held the feathers together, and they came off. he fluttered with his arms, but no feathers remained to hold the air. while his mouth uttered cries to his father it was submerged in the blue waters of the sea, which thenceforth was called by his name. his father cried, "icarus, icarus, where are you?" at last he saw the feathers floating on the water, and bitterly lamenting his own arts, he buried the body and called the land icaria in memory of his child. daedalus arrived safe in sicily, where he built a temple to apollo, and hung up his wings, an offering to the god. daedalus was so proud of his achievements that he could not bear the idea of a rival. his sister had placed her son perdix under his charge to be taught the mechanical arts. he was an apt scholar and gave striking evidences of ingenuity. walking on the seashore he picked up the spine of a fish. imitating it, he took a piece of iron and notched it on the edge, and thus invented the saw. he put two pieces of iron together, connecting them at one end with a rivet, and sharpening the other ends, and made a pair of compasses. daedalus was so envious of his nepnew's performances that he took an opportunity, when they were together one day on the top of a high tower, to push him off. but minerva, who favors ingenuity, saw him falling, and arrested his fate by changing him into a bird called after his name, the partridge. this bird does not build his nest in the trees, nor take lofty flights, but nestles in the hedges, and mindful of his fall, avoids high places. the death of icarus is told in the following lines by darwin: "... with melting wax and loosened strings sunk hapless icarus on unfaithful wings; headlong he rushed through the affrighted air, with limbs distorted and dishevelled hair; his scattered plumage danced upon the wave, and sorrowing nereids decked his watery grave; o'er his pale corse their pearly sea-flowers shed, and strewed with crimson moss his marble bed; struck in their coral towers the passing bell, and wide in ocean tolled his echoing knell." castor and pollux castor and pollux were the offspring of leda and the swan, under which disguise jupiter had concealed himself. leda gave birth to an egg from which sprang the twins. helen, so famous afterwards as the cause of the trojan war, was their sister. when theseus and his friend pirithous had carried off helen from sparta, the youthful heroes castor and pollux, with their followers, hastened to her rescue. theseus was absent from attica and the brothers were successful in recovering their sister. castor was famous for taming and managing horses, and pollux for skill in boxing. they were united by the warmest affection and inseparable in all their enterprises. they accompanied the argonautic expedition. during the voyage a storm arose, and orpheus prayed to the samothracian gods, and played on his harp, whereupon the storm ceased and stars appeared on the heads of the brothers. from this incident, castor and pollux came afterwards to be considered the patron deities of seamen and voyagers, and the lambent flames, which in certain states of the atmosphere play round the sails and masts of vessels, were called by their names. after the argonautic expedition, we find castor and pollux engaged in a war with idas and lynceus. castor was slain, and pollux, inconsolable for the loss of his brother, besought jupiter to be permitted to give his own life as a ransom for him. jupiter so far consented as to allow the two brothers to enjoy the boon of life alternately, passing one day under the earth and the next in the heavenly abodes. according to another form of the story, jupiter rewarded the attachment of the brothers by placing them among the stars as gemini the twins. they received divine honors under the name of dioscuri (sons of jove). they were believed to have appeared occasionally in later times, taking part with one side or the other, in hard-fought fields, and were said on such occasions to be mounted on magnificent white steeds. thus in the early history of rome they are said to have assisted the romans at the battle of lake regillus, and after the victory a temple was erected in their honor on the spot where they appeared. macaulay, in his "lays of ancient rome," thus alludes to the legend: "so like they were, no mortal might one from other know; white as snow their armor was, their steeds were white as snow. never on earthly anvil did such rare armor gleam, and never did such gallant steeds drink of an earthly stream. "back comes the chief in triumph who in the hour of fight hath seen the great twin brethren in harness on his right. safe comes the ship to haven, through billows and through gales. if once the great twin brethren sit shining on the sails." chapter xxi bacchus--ariadne bacchus bacchus was the son of jupiter and semele. juno, to gratify her resentment against semele, contrived a plan for her destruction. assuming the form of beroe, her aged nurse, she insinuated doubts whether it was indeed jove himself who came as a lover. heaving a sigh, she said, "i hope it will turn out so, but i can't help being afraid. people are not always what they pretend to be. if he is indeed jove, make him give some proof of it. ask him to come arrayed in all his splendors, such as he wears in heaven. that will put the matter beyond a doubt." semele was persuaded to try the experiment. she asks a favor, without naming what it is. jove gives his promise, and confirms it with the irrevocable oath, attesting the river styx, terrible to the gods themselves. then she made known her request. the god would have stopped her as she spake, but she was too quick for him. the words escaped, and he could neither unsay his promise nor her request. in deep distress he left her and returned to the upper regions. there he clothed himself in his splendors, not putting on all his terrors, as when he overthrew the giants, but what is known among the gods as his lesser panoply. arrayed in this, he entered the chamber of semele. her mortal frame could not endure the splendors of the immortal radiance. she was consumed to ashes. jove took the infant bacchus and gave him in charge to the nysaean nymphs, who nourished his infancy and childhood, and for their care were rewarded by jupiter by being placed, as the hyades, among the stars. when bacchus grew up he discovered the culture of the vine and the mode of extracting its precious juice; but juno struck him with madness, and drove him forth a wanderer through various parts of the earth. in phrygia the goddess rhea cured him and taught him her religious rites, and he set out on a progress through asia, teaching the people the cultivation of the vine. the most famous part of his wanderings is his expedition to india, which is said to have lasted several years. returning in triumph, he undertook to introduce his worship into greece, but was opposed by some princes, who dreaded its introduction on account of the disorders and madness it brought with it. as he approached his native city thebes, pentheus the king, who had no respect for the new worship, forbade its rites to be performed. but when it was known that bacchus was advancing, men and women, but chiefly the latter, young and old, poured forth to meet him and to join his triumphal march. mr. longfellow in his "drinking song" thus describes the march of bacchus: "fauns with youthful bacchus follow; ivy crowns that brow, supernal as the forehead of apollo, and possessing youth eternal. "round about him fair bacchantes, bearing cymbals, flutes and thyrses, wild from naxian groves of zante's vineyards, sing delirious verses," it was in vain pentheus remonstrated, commanded, and threatened. "go," said he to his attendants, "seize this vagabond leader of the rout and bring him to me. i will soon make him confess his false claim of heavenly parentage and renounce his counterfeit worship." it was in vain his nearest friends and wisest counsellors remonstrated and begged him not to oppose the god. their remonstrances only made him more violent. but now the attendants returned whom he had despatched to seize bacchus. they had been driven away by the bacchanals, but had succeeded in taking one of them prisoner, whom, with his hands tied behind him, they brought before the king. pentheus, beholding him with wrathful countenance, said, "fellow! you shall speedily be put to death, that your fate may be a warning to others; but though i grudge the delay of your punishment, speak, tell us who you are, and what are these new rites you presume to celebrate." the prisoner, unterrified, responded, "my name is acetes; my country is maeonia; my parents were poor people, who had no fields or flocks to leave me, but they left me their fishing rods and nets and their fisherman's trade. this i followed for some time, till growing weary of remaining in one place, i learned the pilot's art and how to guide my course by the stars. it happened as i was sailing for delos we touched at the island of dia and went ashore. next morning i sent the men for fresh water, and myself mounted the hill to observe the wind; when my men returned bringing with them a prize, as they thought, a boy of delicate appearance, whom they had found asleep. they judged he was a noble youth, perhaps a king's son, and they might get a liberal ransom for him. i observed his dress, his walk, his face. there was something in them which i felt sure was more than mortal. i said to my men, 'what god there is concealed in that form i know not, but some one there certainly is. pardon us, gentle deity, for the violence we have done you, and give success to our undertakings.' dictys, one of my best hands for climbing the mast and coming down by the ropes, and melanthus, my steersman, and epopeus, the leader of the sailor's cry, one and all exclaimed, 'spare your prayers for us.' so blind is the lust of gain! when they proceeded to put him on board i resisted them. 'this ship shall not be profaned by such impiety,' said i. 'i have a greater share in her than any of you.' but lycabas, a turbulent fellow, seized me by the throat and attempted to throw me overboard, and i scarcely saved myself by clinging to the ropes. the rest approved the deed. "then bacchus (for it was indeed he), as if shaking off his drowsiness, exclaimed, 'what are you doing with me? what is this fighting about? who brought me here? where are you going to carry me?' one of them replied, 'fear nothing; tell us where you wish to go and we will take you there.' 'naxos is my home,' said bacchus; 'take me there and you shall be well rewarded.' they promised so to do, and told me to pilot the ship to naxos. naxos lay to the right, and i was trimming the sails to carry us there, when some by signs and others by whispers signified to me their will that i should sail in the opposite direction, and take the boy to egypt to sell him for a slave. i was confounded and said, 'let some one else pilot the ship;' withdrawing myself from any further agency in their wickedness. they cursed me, and one of them, exclaiming, 'don't flatter yourself that we depend on you for our safety;' took any place as pilot, and bore away from naxos. "then the god, pretending that he had just become aware of their treachery, looked out over the sea and said in a voice of weeping, 'sailors, these are not the shores you promised to take me to; yonder island is not my home. what have i done that you should treat me so? it is small glory you will gain by cheating a poor boy.' i wept to hear him, but the crew laughed at both of us, and sped the vessel fast over the sea. all at once--strange as it may seem, it is true,--the vessel stopped, in the mid sea, as fast as if it was fixed on the ground. the men, astonished, pulled at their oars, and spread more sail, trying to make progress by the aid of both, but all in vain. ivy twined round the oars and hindered their motion, and clung to the sails, with heavy clusters of berries. a vine, laden with grapes, ran up the mast, and along the sides of the vessel. the sound of flutes was heard and the odor of fragrant wine spread all around. the god himself had a chaplet of vine leaves, and bore in his hand a spear wreathed with ivy. tigers crouched at his feet, and forms of lynxes and spotted panthers played around him. the men were seized with terror or madness; some leaped overboard; others preparing to do the same beheld their companions in the water undergoing a change, their bodies becoming flattened and ending in a crooked tail. one exclaimed, 'what miracle is this!' and as he spoke his mouth widened, his nostrils expanded, and scales covered all his body. another, endeavoring to pull the oar, felt his hands shrink up and presently to be no longer hands but fins; another, trying to raise his arms to a rope, found he had no arms, and curving his mutilated body, jumped into the sea. what had been his legs became the two ends of a crescent-shaped tail. the whole crew became dolphins and swam about the ship, now upon the surface, now under it, scattering the spray, and spouting the water from their broad nostrils. of twenty men i alone was left. trembling with fear, the god cheered me. 'fear not,' said he; 'steer towards naxos.' i obeyed, and when we arrived there, i kindled the altars and celebrated the sacred rites of bacchus." pentheus here exclaimed, "we have wasted time enough on this silly story. take him away and have him executed without delay." acetes was led away by the attendants and shut up fast in prison; but while they were getting ready the instruments of execution the prison doors came open of their own accord and the chains fell from his limbs, and when they looked for him he was nowhere to be found. pentheus would take no warning, but instead of sending others, determined to go himself to the scene of the solemnities. the mountain citheron was all alive with worshippers, and the cries of the bacchanals resounded on every side. the noise roused the anger of pentheus as the sound of a trumpet does the fire of a war- horse. he penetrated through the wood and reached an open space where the chief scene of the orgies met his eyes. at the same moment the women saw him; and first among them his own mother, agave, blinded by the god, cried out, "see there the wild boar, the hugest monster that prowls in these woods! come on, sisters! i will be the first to strike the wild boar." the whole band rushed upon him, and while he now talks less arrogantly, now excuses himself, and now confesses his crime and implores pardon, they press upon him and wound him. in vain he cries to his aunts to protect him from his mother. autonoe seized one arm, ino the other, and between them he was torn to pieces, while his mother shouted, "victory! victory! we have done it; the glory is ours!" so the worship of bacchus was established in greece. there is an allusion to the story of bacchus and the mariners in milton's "comus," at line , the story of circe will be found in chapter xxix. "bacchus that first from out the purple grapes crushed the sweet poison of misused wine, after the tuscan manners transformed, coasting the tyrrhene shore as the winds listed on circe's island fell (who knows not circe, the daughter of the sun? whose charmed cup whoever tasted lost his upright shape, and downward fell into a grovelling swine)." ariadne we have seen in the story of theseus how ariadne, the daughter of king minos, after helping theseus to escape from the labyrinth, was carried by him to the island of naxos and was left there asleep, while the ungrateful theseus pursued his way home without her. ariadne, on waking and finding herself deserted, abandoned herself to grief. but venus took pity on her, and consoled her with the promise that she should have an immortal lover, instead of the mortal one she had lost. the island where ariadne was left was the favorite island of bacchus, the same that he wished the tyrrhenian mariners to carry him to, when they so treacherously attempted to make prize of him. as ariadne sat lamenting her fate, bacchus found her, consoled her, and made her his wife. as a marriage present he gave her a golden crown, enriched with gems, and when she died, he took her crown and threw it up into the sky. as it mounted the gems grew brighter and were turned into stars, and preserving its form ariadne's crown remains fixed in the heavens as a constellation, between the kneeling hercules and the man who holds the serpent. spenser alludes to ariadne's crown, though he has made some mistakes in his mythology. it was at the wedding of pirithous, and not theseus, that the centaurs and lapithae quarrelled. "look how the crown which ariadne wore upon her ivory forehead that same day that theseus her unto his bridal bore, then the bold centaurs made that bloody fray with the fierce lapiths which did them dismay; being now placed in the firmament, through the bright heaven doth her beams display, and is unto the stars an ornament, which round about her move in order excellent." chapter xxii the rural deities--erisichthon--rhoecus--the water deities-- camenae--winds the rural deities pan, the god of woods and fields, of flocks and shepherds, dwelt in grottos, wandered on the mountains and in valleys, and amused himself with the chase or in leading the dances of the nymphs. he was fond of music, and as we have seen, the inventor of the syrinx, or shepherd's pipe, which he himself played in a masterly manner. pan, like other gods who dwelt in forests, was dreaded by those whose occupations caused them to pass through the woods by night, for the gloom and loneliness of such scenes dispose the mind to superstitious fears. hence sudden fright without any visible cause was ascribed to pan, and called a panic terror. as the name of the god signifies all, pan came to be considered a symbol of the universe and personification of nature; and later still to be regarded as a representative of all the gods and of heathenism itself. sylvanus and faunus were latin divinities, whose characteristics are so nearly the same as those of pan that we may safely consider them as the same personage under different names. the wood-nymphs, pan's partners in the dance, were but one class of nymphs. there were beside them the naiads, who presided over brooks and fountains, the oreads, nymphs of mountains and grottos, and the nereids, sea-nymphs. the three last named were immortal, but the wood-nymphs, called dryads or hamadryads, were believed to perish with the trees which had been their abode and with which they had come into existence. it was therefore an impious act wantonly to destroy a tree, and in some aggravated cases were severely punished, as in the instance of erisichthon, which we are about to record. milton in his glowing description of the early creation, thus alludes to pan as the personification of nature: "... universal pan, knit with the graces and the hours in dance, led on the eternal spring." and describing eve's abode: "... in shadier bower, more sacred or sequestered, though but feigned, pan or sylvanus never slept, nor nymph nor faunus haunted." --paradise lost, b. iv. it was a pleasing trait in the old paganism that it loved to trace in every operation of nature the agency of deity. the imagination of the greeks peopled all the regions of earth and sea with divinities, to whose agency it attributed those phenomena which our philosophy ascribes to the operation of the laws of nature. sometimes in our poetical moods we feel disposed to regret the change, and to think that the heart has lost as much as the head has gained by the substitution. the poet wordsworth thus strongly expresses this sentiment: "... great god, i'd rather be a pagan, suckled in a creed outworn, so might i, standing on this pleasant lea, have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; have sight of proteus rising from the sea, and hear old triton blow his wreathed horn." schiller, in his poem "die gotter griechenlands," expresses his regret for the overthrow of the beautiful mythology of ancient times in a way which has called forth an answer from a christian poet, mrs. e. barrett browning, in her poem called "the dead pan." the two following verses are a specimen: "by your beauty which confesses some chief beauty conquering you, by our grand heroic guesses through your falsehood at the true, we will weep not! earth shall roll heir to each god's aureole, and pan is dead. "earth outgrows the mythic fancies sung beside her in her youth; and those debonaire romances sound but dull beside the truth. phoebus' chariot course is run! look up, poets, to the sun! pan, pan is dead." these lines are founded on an early christian tradition that when the heavenly host told the shepherds at bethlehem of the birth of christ, a deep groan, heard through all the isles of greece, told that the great pan was dead, and that all the royalty of olympus was dethroned and the several deities were sent wandering in cold and darkness. so milton in his "hymn on the nativity": "the lonely mountains o'er, and the resounding shore, a voice of weeping heard and loud lament; from haunted spring and dale, edged with poplar pale, the parting genius is with sighing sent; with flower-enwoven tresses torn, the nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn." erisichthon erisichthon was a profane person and a despiser of the gods. on one occasion he presumed to violate with the axe a grove sacred to ceres. there stood in this grove a venerable oak so large that it seemed a wood in itself, its ancient trunk towering aloft, whereon votive garlands were often hung and inscriptions carved expressing the gratitude of suppliants to the nymph of the tree. often had the dryads danced round it hand in hand. its trunk measured fifteen cubits round, and it overtopped the other trees as they overtopped the shrubbery. but for all that, erisichthon saw no reason why he should spare it and he ordered his servants to cut it down. when he saw them hesitate he snatched an axe from one, and thus impiously exclaimed: "i care not whether it be a tree beloved of the goddess or not; were it the goddess herself it should come down if it stood in my way." so saying, he lifted the axe and the oak seemed to shudder and utter a groan. when the first blow fell upon the trunk blood flowed from the wound. all the bystanders were horror-struck, and one of them ventured to remonstrate and hold back the fatal axe. erisichthon, with a scornful look, said to him, "receive the reward of your piety;" and turned against him the weapon which he had held aside from the tree, gashed his body with many wounds, and cut off his head. then from the midst of the oak came a voice, "i who dwell in this tree am a nymph beloved of ceres, and dying by your hands forewarn you that punishment awaits you." he desisted not from his crime, and at last the tree, sundered by repeated blows and drawn by ropes, fell with a crash and prostrated a great part of the grove in its fall. the dryads in dismay at the loss of their companion and at seeing the pride of the forest laid low, went in a body to ceres, all clad in garments of mourning, and invoked punishment upon erisichthon. she nodded her assent, and as she bowed her head the grain ripe for harvest in the laden fields bowed also. she planned a punishment so dire that one would pity him, if such a culprit as he could be pitied,--to deliver him over to famine. as ceres herself could not approach famine, for the fates have ordained that these two goddesses shall never come together, she called an oread from her mountain and spoke to her in these words: "there is a place in the farthest part of ice-clad scythia, a sad and sterile region without trees and without crops. cold dwells there, and fear and shuddering, and famine. go and tell the last to take possession of the bowels of erisichthon. let not abundance subdue her, nor the power of my gifts drive her away. be not alarmed at the distance" (for famine dwells very far from ceres), "but take my chariot. the dragons are fleet and obey the rein, and will take you through the air in a short time." so she gave her the reins, and she drove away and soon reached scythia. on arriving at mount caucasus she stopped the dragons and found famine in a stony field, pulling up with teeth and claws the scanty herbage. her hair was rough, her eyes sunk, her face pale, her lips blanched, her jaws covered with dust, and her skin drawn tight, so as to show all her bones. as the oread saw her afar off (for she did not dare to come near), she delivered the commands of ceres; and, though she stopped as short a time as possible, and kept her distance as well as she could, yet she began to feel hungry, and turned the dragons' heads and drove back to thessaly. famine obeyed the commands of ceres and sped through the air to the dwelling of erisichthon, entered the bedchamber of the guilty man, and found him asleep. she enfolded him with her wings and breathed herself into him, infusing her poison into his veins. having discharged her task, she hastened to leave the land of plenty and returned to her accustomed haunts. erisichthon still slept, and in his dreams craved food, and moved his jaws as if eating. when he awoke, his hunger was raging. without a moment's delay he would have food set before him, of whatever kind earth sea, or air produces; and complained of hunger even while he ate. what would have sufficed for a city or a nation, was not enough for him. the more he ate the more he craved. his hunger was like the sea, which receives all the rivers, yet is never filled; or like fire, that burns all the fuel that is heaped upon it, yet is still voracious for more. his property rapidly diminished under the unceasing demands of his appetite, but his hunger continued unabated. at length he had spent all and had only his daughter left, a daughter worthy of a better parent. her too he sold. she scorned to be the slave of a purchaser and as she stood by the seaside raised her hands in prayer to neptune. he heard her prayer, and though her new master was not far off and had his eye upon her a moment before, neptune changed her form and made her assume that of a fisherman busy at his occupation. her master, looking for her and seeing her in her altered form, addressed her and said, "good fisherman, whither went the maiden whom i saw just now, with hair dishevelled and in humble garb, standing about where you stand? tell me truly; so may your luck be good and not a fish nibble at your hook and get away." she perceived that her prayer was answered and rejoiced inwardly at hearing herself inquired of about herself. she replied, "pardon me, stranger, but i have been so intent upon my line that i have seen nothing else; but i wish i may never catch another fish if i believe any woman or other person except myself to have been hereabouts for some time." he was deceived and went his way, thinking his slave had escaped. then she resumed her own form. her father was well pleased to find her still with him, and the money too that he got by the sale of her; so he sold her again. but she was changed by the favor of neptune as often as she was sold, now into a horse, now a bird, now an ox, and now a stag,--got away from her purchasers and came home. by this base method the starving father procured food; but not enough for his wants, and at last hunger compelled him to devour his limbs, and he strove to nourish his body by eating his body, till death relieved him from the vengeance of ceres. rhoecus the hamadryads could appreciate services as well as punish injuries. the story of rhoecus proves this. rhoecus, happening to see an oak just ready to fall, ordered his servants to prop it up. the nymph, who had been on the point of perishing with the tree, came and expressed her gratitude to him for having saved her life and bade him ask what reward he would. rhoecus boldly asked her love and the nymph yielded to his desire. she at the same time charged him to be constant and told him that a bee should be her messenger and let him know when she would admit his society. one time the bee came to rhoecus when he was playing at draughts and he carelessly brushed it away. this so incensed the nymph that she deprived him of sight. our countryman, j. r. lowell, has taken this story for the subject of one of his shorter poems. he introduces it thus: "hear now this fairy legend of old greece, as full of freedom, youth and beauty still, as the immortal freshness of that grace carved for all ages on some attic frieze." the water deities oceanus and tethys were the titans who ruled over the watery element. when jove and his brothers overthrew the titans and assumed their power, neptune and amphitrite succeeded to the dominion of the waters in place of oceanus and tethys. neptune neptune was the chief of the water deities. the symbol of his power was the trident, or spear with three points, with which he used to shatter rocks, to call forth or subdue storms, to shake the shores and the like. he created the horse and was the patron of horse races. his own horses had brazen hoofs and golden manes. they drew his chariot over the sea, which became smooth before him, while the monsters of the deep gambolled about his path. amphitrite amphitrite was the wife of neptune. she was the daughter of nereus and doris, and the mother of triton. neptune, to pay his court to amphitrite, came riding on a dolphin. having won her he rewarded the dolphin by placing him among the stars. nereus and doris nereus and doris were the parents of the nereids, the most celebrated of whom were amphitrite, thetis, the mother of achilles, and galatea, who was loved by the cyclops polyphemus. nereus was distinguished for his knowledge and his love of truth and justice, whence he was termed an elder; the gift of prophecy was also assigned to him. triton and proteus triton was the son of neptune and amphitrite, and the poets make him his father's trumpeter. proteus was also a son of neptune. he, like nereus, is styled a sea-elder for his wisdom and knowledge of future events. his peculiar power was that of changing his shape at will. thetis thetis, the daughter of nereus and doris, was so beautiful that jupiter himself sought her in marriage; but having learned from prometheus the titan that thetis should bear a son who should grow greater than his father, jupiter desisted from his suit and decreed that thetis should be the wife of a mortal. by the aid of chiron the centaur, peleus succeeded in winning the goddess for his bride and their son was the renowned achilles. in our chapter on the trojan war it will appear that thetis was a faithful mother to him, aiding him in all difficulties, and watching over his interests from the first to the last. leucothea and palaemon ino, the daughter of cadmus and wife of athamas, flying from her frantic husband with her little son melicertes in her arms, sprang from a cliff into the sea. the gods, out of compassion, made her a goddess of the sea, under the name of leucothea, and him a god, under that of palaemon. both were held powerful to save from shipwreck and were invoked by sailors. palaemon was usually represented riding on a dolphin. the isthmian games were celebrated in his honor. he was called portunus by the romans, and believed to have jurisdiction of the ports and shores. milton alludes to all these deities in the song at the conclusion of "comus": "... sabrina fair, listen and appear to us, in name of great oceanus; by the earth-shaking neptune's mace, and tethys' grave, majestic pace, by hoary nereus' wrinkled look, and the carpathian wizard's hook, [footnote: proteus] by scaly triton's winding shell, and old soothsaying glaucus' spell, by leucothea's lovely hands, and her son who rules the strands. by thetis' tinsel-slippered feet, and the songs of sirens sweet;" etc. armstrong, the poet of the "art of preserving health," under the inspiration of hygeia, the goddess of health, thus celebrates the naiads. paeon is a name both of apollo and aesculapius. "come, ye naiads! to the fountains lead! propitious maids! the task remains to sing your gifts (so paeon, so the powers of health command), to praise your crystal element. o comfortable streams! with eager lips and trembling hands the languid thirsty quaff new life in you; fresh vigor fills their veins. no warmer cups the rural ages knew, none warmer sought the sires of humankind; happy in temperate peace their equal days felt not the alternate fits of feverish mirth and sick dejection; still serene and pleased, blessed with divine immunity from ills, long centuries they lived; their only fate was ripe old age, and rather sleep than death." the camenae by this name the latins designated the muses, but included under it also some other deities, principally nymphs of fountains. egeria was one of them, whose fountain and grotto are still shown. it was said that numa, the second king of rome, was favored by this nymph with secret interviews, in which she taught him those lessons of wisdom and of law which he imbodied in the institutions of his rising nation. after the death of numa the nymph pined away and was changed into a fountain. byron, in "childe harold," canto iv., thus alludes to egeria and her grotto: "here didst thou dwell, in this enchanted cover, egeria! all thy heavenly bosom beating for the far footsteps of thy mortal lover; the purple midnight veiled that mystic meeting with her most starry canopy;" etc. tennyson, also, in his "palace of art," gives us a glimpse of the royal lover expecting the interview: "holding one hand against his ear, to list a footfall ere he saw the wood-nymph, stayed the tuscan king to hear of wisdom and of law." the winds when so many less active agencies were personified, it is not to be supposed that the winds failed to be so. they were boreas or aquilo, the north wind; zephyrus or favonius, the west; notus or auster, the south; and eurus, the east. the first two have been chiefly celebrated by the poets, the former as the type of rudeness, the latter of gentleness. boreas loved the nymph orithyia, and tried to play the lover's part, but met with poor success. it was hard for him to breathe gently, and sighing was out of the question. weary at last of fruitless endeavors, he acted out his true character, seized the maiden and carried her off. their children were zetes and calais, winged warriors, who accompanied the argonautic expedition, and did good service in an encounter with those monstrous birds the harpies. zephyrus was the lover of flora. milton alludes to them in "paradise lost," where he describes adam waking and contemplating eve still asleep. "... he on his side leaning half raised, with looks of cordial love, hung over her enamored, and beheld beauty which, whether waking or asleep, shot forth peculiar graces; then with voice, mild as when zephyrus on flora breathes, her hand soft touching, whispered thus: 'awake! my fairest, my espoused, my latest found, heaven's last, best gift, my ever-new delight.'" dr. young, the poet of the "night thoughts," addressing the idle and luxurious, says: "ye delicate! who nothing can support (yourselves most insupportable) for whom the winter rose must blow, ... ... and silky soft favonius breathe still softer or be chid!" chapter xxiii achelous and hercules--admetus and alcestis--antigone--penelope achelous and hercules the river-god achelous told the story of erisichthon to theseus and his companions, whom he was entertaining at his hospitable board, while they were delayed on their journey by the overflow of his waters. having finished his story, he added, "but why should i tell of other persons' transformations when i myself am an instance of the possession of this power? sometimes i become a serpent, and sometimes a bull, with horns on my head. or i should say i once could do so; but now i have but one horn, having lost one." and here he groaned and was silent. theseus asked him the cause of his grief, and how he lost his horn. to which question the river-god replied as follows: "who likes to tell of his defeats? yet i will not hesitate to relate mine, comforting myself with the thought of the greatness of my conqueror, for it was hercules. perhaps you have heard of the fame of dejanira, the fairest of maidens, whom a host of suitors strove to win. hercules and myself were of the number, and the rest yielded to us two. he urged in his behalf his descent from jove and his labors by which he had exceeded the exactions of juno, his stepmother. i, on the other hand, said to the father of the maiden, 'behold me, the king of the waters that flow through your land. i am no stranger from a foreign shore, but belong to the country, a part of your realm. let it not stand in my way that royal juno owes me no enmity nor punishes me with heavy tasks. as for this man, who boasts himself the son of jove, it is either a false pretence, or disgraceful to him if true, for it cannot be true except by his mother's shame.' as i said this hercules scowled upon me, and with difficulty restrained his rage. 'my hand will answer better than my tongue,' said he. 'i yield to you the victory in words, but trust my cause to the strife of deeds.' with that he advanced towards me, and i was ashamed, after what i had said, to yield. i threw off my green vesture and presented myself for the struggle. he tried to throw me, now attacking my head, now my body. my bulk was my protection, and he assailed me in vain. for a time we stopped, then returned to the conflict. we each kept our position, determined not to yield, foot to foot, i bending over him, clenching his hand in mine, with my forehead almost touching his. thrice hercules tried to throw me off, and the fourth time he succeeded, brought me to the ground, and himself upon my back. i tell you the truth, it was as if a mountain had fallen on me. i struggled to get my arms at liberty, panting and reeking with perspiration. he gave me no chance to recover, but seized my throat. my knees were on the earth and my mouth in the dust. "finding that i was no match for him in the warrior's art, i resorted to others and glided away in the form of a serpent. i curled my body in a coil and hissed at him with my forked tongue. he smiled scornfully at this, and said, 'it was the labor of my infancy to conquer snakes.' so saying he clasped my neck with his hands. i was almost choked, and struggled to get my neck out of his grasp. vanquished in this form, i tried what alone remained to me and assumed the form of a bull. he grasped my neck with his arm, and dragging my head down to the ground, overthrew me on the sand. nor was this enough. his ruthless hand rent my horn from my head. the naiades took it, consecrated it, and filled it with fragrant flowers. plenty adopted my horn and made it her own, and called it 'cornucopia.'" the ancients were fond of finding a hidden meaning in their mythological tales. they explain this fight of achelous with hercules by saying achelous was a river that in seasons of rain overflowed its banks. when the fable says that achelous loved dejanira, and sought a union with her, the meaning is that the river in its windings flowed through part of dejanira's kingdom. it was said to take the form of a snake because of its winding, and of a bull because it made a brawling or roaring in its course. when the river swelled, it made itself another channel. thus its head was horned. hercules prevented the return of these periodical overflows by embankments and canals; and therefore he was said to have vanquished the river-god and cut off his horn. finally, the lands formerly subject to overflow, but now redeemed, became very fertile, and this is meant by the horn of plenty. there is another account of the origin of the cornucopia. jupiter at his birth was committed by his mother rhea to the care of the daughters of melisseus, a cretan king. they fed the infant deity with the milk of the goat amalthea. jupiter broke off one of the horns of the goat and gave it to his nurses, and endowed it with the wonderful power of becoming filled with whatever the possessor might wish. the name of amalthea is also given by some writers to the mother of bacchus. it is thus used by milton, "paradise lost," book iv.: "... that nyseian isle, girt with the river triton, where old cham, whom gentiles ammon call, and libyan jove, hid amalthea and her florid son, young bacchus, from his stepdame rhea's eye." admetus and alcestis aesculapius, the son of apollo, was endowed by his father with such skill in the healing art that he even restored the dead to life. at this pluto took alarm, and prevailed on jupiter to launch a thunderbolt at aesculapius. apollo was indignant at the destruction of his son, and wreaked his vengeance on the innocent workmen who had made the thunderbolt. these were the cyclopes, who have their workshop under mount aetna, from which the smoke and flames of their furnaces are constantly issuing. apollo shot his arrows at the cyclopes, which so incensed jupiter that he condemned him as a punishment to become the servant of a mortal for the space of one year. accordingly apollo went into the service of admetus, king of thessaly, and pastured his flocks for him on the verdant banks of the river amphrysos. admetus was a suitor, with others, for the hand of alcestis, the daughter of pelias, who promised her to him who should come for her in a chariot drawn by lions and boars. this task admetus performed by the assistance of his divine herdsman, and was made happy in the possession of alcestis. but admetus fell ill, and being near to death, apollo prevailed on the fates to spare him on condition that some one would consent to die in his stead. admetus, in his joy at this reprieve, thought little of the ransom, and perhaps remembering the declarations of attachment which he had often heard from his courtiers and dependents fancied that it would be easy to find a substitute. but it was not so. brave warriors, who would willingly have perilled their lives for their prince, shrunk from the thought of dying for him on the bed of sickness; and old servants who had experienced his bounty and that of his house from their childhood up, were not willing to lay down the scanty remnant of their days to show their gratitude. men asked, "why does not one of his parents do it? they cannot in the course of nature live much longer, and who can feel like them the call to rescue the life they gave from an untimely end?" but the parents, distressed though they were at the thought of losing him, shrunk from the call. then alcestis, with a generous self- devotion, proffered herself as the substitute. admetus, fond as he was of life, would not have submitted to receive it at such a cost; but there was no remedy. the condition imposed by the fates had been met, and the decree was irrevocable. alcestis sickened as admetus revived, and she was rapidly sinking to the grave. just at this time hercules arrived at the palace of admetus, and found all the inmates in great distress for the impending loss of the devoted wife and beloved mistress. hercules, to whom no labor was too arduous, resolved to attempt her rescue. he went and lay in wait at the door of the chamber of the dying queen, and when death came for his prey, he seized him and forced him to resign his victim. alcestis recovered, and was restored to her husband. milton alludes to the story of alcestis in his sonnet "on his deceased wife:" "methought i saw my late espoused saint brought to me like alcestis from the grave, whom jove's great son to her glad husband gave, rescued from death by force, though pale and faint." j. r. lowell has chosen the "shepherd of king admetus" for the subject of a short poem. he makes that event the first introduction of poetry to men. "men called him but a shiftless youth, in whom no good they saw, and yet unwittingly, in truth, they made his careless words their law. "and day by day more holy grew each spot where he had trod, till after-poets only knew their first-born brother was a god." antigone a large proportion both of the interesting persons and of the exalted acts of legendary greece belongs to the female sex. antigone was as bright an example of filial and sisterly fidelity as was alcestis of connubial devotion. she was the daughter of oedipus and jocasta, who with all their descendants were the victims of an unrelenting fate, dooming them to destruction. oedipus in his madness had torn out his eyes, and was driven forth from his kingdom thebes, dreaded and abandoned by all men, as an object of divine vengeance. antigone, his daughter, alone shared his wanderings and remained with him till he died, and then returned to thebes. her brothers, eteocles and polynices, had agreed to share the kingdom between them, and reign alternately year by year. the first year fell to the lot of eteocles, who, when his time expired, refused to surrender the kingdom to his brother. polynices fled to adrastus, king of argos, who gave him his daughter in marriage, and aided him with an army to enforce his claim to the kingdom. this led to the celebrated expedition of the "seven against thebes," which furnished ample materials for the epic and tragic poets of greece. amphiaraus, the brother-in-law of adrastus, opposed the enterprise, for he was a soothsayer, and knew by his art that no one of the leaders except adrastus would live to return. but amphiaraus, on his marriage to eriphyle, the king's sister, had agreed that whenever he and adrastus should differ in opinion, the decision should be left to eriphyle. polynices, knowing this, gave eriphyle the collar of harmonia, and thereby gained her to his interest. this collar or necklace was a present which vulcan had given to harmonia on her marriage with cadmus, and polynices had taken it with him on his flight from thebes. eriphyle could not resist so tempting a bribe, and by her decision the war was resolved on, and amphiaraus went to his certain fate. he bore his part bravely in the contest, but could not avert his destiny. pursued by the enemy, he fled along the river, when a thunderbolt launched by jupiter opened the ground, and he, his chariot, and his charioteer were swallowed up. it would not be in place here to detail all the acts of heroism or atrocity which marked the contest; but we must not omit to record the fidelity of evadne as an offset to the weakness of eriphyle. capaneus, the husband of evadne, in the ardor of the fight declared that he would force his way into the city in spite of jove himself. placing a ladder against the wall he mounted, but jupiter, offended at his impious language, struck him with a thunderbolt. when his obsequies were celebrated, evadne cast herself on his funeral pile and perished. early in the contest eteocles consulted the soothsayer tiresias as to the issue. tiresias in his youth had by chance seen minerva bathing. the goddess in her wrath deprived him of his sight, but afterwards relenting gave him in compensation the knowledge of future events. when consulted by eteocles, he declared that victory should fall to thebes if menoeceus, the son of creon, gave himself a voluntary victim. the heroic youth, learning the response, threw away his life in the first encounter. the siege continued long, with various success. at length both hosts agreed that the brothers should decide their quarrel by single combat. they fought and fell by each other's hands. the armies then renewed the fight, and at last the invaders were forced to yield, and fled, leaving their dead unburied. creon, the uncle of the fallen princes, now become king, caused eteocles to be buried with distinguished honor, but suffered the body of polynices to lie where it fell, forbidding every one on pain of death to give it burial. antigone, the sister of polynices, heard with indignation the revolting edict which consigned her brother's body to the dogs and vultures, depriving it of those rites which were considered essential to the repose of the dead. unmoved by the dissuading counsel of an affectionate but timid sister, and unable to procure assistance, she determined to brave the hazard, and to bury the body with her own hands. she was detected in the act, and creon gave orders that she should be buried alive, as having deliberately set at naught the solemn edict of the city. her lover, haemon, the son of creon, unable to avert her fate, would not survive her, and fell by his own hand. antigone forms the subject of two fine tragedies of the grecian poet sophocles. mrs. jameson, in her "characteristics of women," has compared her character with that of cordelia, in shakspeare's "king lear." the perusal of her remarks cannot fail to gratify our readers. the following is the lamentation of antigone over oedipus, when death has at last relieved him from his sufferings: "alas! i only wished i might have died with my poor father; wherefore should i ask for longer life? o, i was fond of misery with him; e'en what was most unlovely grew beloved when he was with me. o my dearest father, beneath the earth now in deep darkness hid, worn as thou wert with age, to me thou still wast dear, and shalt be ever." --francklin's sophocles. penelope penelope is another of those mythic heroines whose beauties were rather those of character and conduct than of person. she was the daughter of icarius, a spartan prince. ulysses, king of ithaca, sought her in marriage, and won her, over all competitors. when the moment came for the bride to leave her father's house, icarius, unable to bear the thoughts of parting with his daughter, tried to persuade her to remain with him, and not accompany her husband to ithaca. ulysses gave penelope her choice, to stay or go with him. penelope made no reply, but dropped her veil over her face. icarius urged her no further, but when she was gone erected a statue to modesty on the spot where they parted. ulysses and penelope had not enjoyed their union more than a year when it was interrupted by the events which called ulysses to the trojan war. during his long absence, and when it was doubtful whether he still lived, and highly improbable that he would ever return, penelope was importuned by numerous suitors, from whom there seemed no refuge but in choosing one of them for her husband. penelope, however, employed every art to gain time, still hoping for ulysses' return. one of her arts of delay was engaging in the preparation of a robe for the funeral canopy of laertes, her husband's father. she pledged herself to make her choice among the suitors when the robe was finished. during the day she worked at the robe, but in the night she undid the work of the day. this is the famous penelope's web, which is used as a proverbial expression for anything which is perpetually doing but never done. the rest of penelope's history will be told when we give an account of her husband's adventures. chapter xxiv orpheus and eurydice--aristaeus--amphion--linus--thamyris-- marsyas--melampus--musaeus orpheus and eurydice orpheus was the son of apollo and the muse calliope. he was presented by his father with a lyre and taught to play upon it, which he did to such perfection that nothing could withstand the charm of his music. not only his fellow-mortals but wild beasts were softened by his strains, and gathering round him laid by their fierceness, and stood entranced with his lay. nay, the very trees and rocks were sensible to the charm. the former crowded round him and the latter relaxed somewhat of their hardness, softened by his notes. hymen had been called to bless with his presence the nuptials of orpheus with eurydice; but though he attended, he brought no happy omens with him. his very torch smoked and brought tears into their eyes. in coincidence with such prognostics, eurydice, shortly after her marriage, while wandering with the nymphs, her companions, was seen by the shepherd aristaeus, who was struck with her beauty and made advances to her. she fled, and in flying trod upon a snake in the grass, was bitten in the foot, and died. orpheus sang his grief to all who breathed the upper air, both gods and men, and finding it all unavailing resolved to seek his wife in the regions of the dead. he descended by a cave situated on the side of the promontory of taenarus and arrived at the stygian realm. he passed through crowds of ghosts and presented himself before the throne of pluto and proserpine. accompanying the words with the lyre, he sung, "o deities of the underworld, to whom all we who live must come, hear my words, for they are true. i come not to spy out the secrets of tartarus, nor to try my strength against the three-headed dog with snaky hair who guards the entrance. i come to seek my wife, whose opening years the poisonous viper's fang has brought to an untimely end. love has led me here, love, a god all powerful with us who dwell on the earth, and, if old traditions say true, not less so here. i implore you by these abodes full of terror, these realms of silence and uncreated things, unite again the thread of eurydice's life. we all are destined to you and sooner or later must pass to your domain. she too, when she shall have filled her term of life, will rightly be yours. but till then grant her to me, i beseech you. if you deny me i cannot return alone; you shall triumph in the death of us both." as he sang these tender strains, the very ghosts shed tears. tantalus, in spite of his thirst, stopped for a moment his efforts for water, ixion's wheel stood still, the vulture ceased to tear the giant's liver, the daughters of danaus rested from their task of drawing water in a sieve, and sisyphus sat on his rock to listen. then for the first time, it is said, the cheeks of the furies were wet with tears. proserpine could not resist, and pluto himself gave way. eurydice was called. she came from among the new-arrived ghosts, limping with her wounded foot. orpheus was permitted to take her away with him on one condition, that he should not turn around to look at her till they should have reached the upper air. under this condition they proceeded on their way, he leading, she following, through passages dark and steep, in total silence, till they had nearly reached the outlet into the cheerful upper world, when orpheus, in a moment of forgetfulness, to assure himself that she was still following, cast a glance behind him, when instantly she was borne away. stretching out their arms to embrace each other, they grasped only the air! dying now a second time, she yet cannot reproach her husband, for how can she blame his impatience to behold her? "farewell," she said, "a last farewell,"--and was hurried away, so fast that the sound hardly reached his ears. orpheus endeavored to follow her, and besought permission to return and try once more for her release; but the stern ferryman repulsed him and refused passage. seven days he lingered about the brink, without food or sleep; then bitterly accusing of cruelty the powers of erebus, he sang his complaints to the rocks and mountains, melting the hearts of tigers and moving the oaks from their stations. he held himself aloof from womankind, dwelling constantly on the recollection of his sad mischance. the thracian maidens tried their best to captivate him, but he repulsed their advances. they bore with him as long as they could; but finding him insensible one day, excited by the rites of bacchus, one of them exclaimed, "see yonder our despiser!" and threw at him her javelin. the weapon, as soon as it came within the sound of his lyre, fell harmless at his feet. so did also the stones that they threw at him. but the women raised a scream and drowned the voice of the music, and then the missiles reached him and soon were stained with his blood. the maniacs tore him limb from limb, and threw his head and his lyre into the river hebrus, down which they floated, murmuring sad music, to which the shores responded a plaintive symphony. the muses gathered up the fragments of his body and buried them at libethra, where the nightingale is said to sing over his grave more sweetly than in any other part of greece. his lyre was placed by jupiter among the stars. his shade passed a second time to tartarus, where he sought out his eurydice and embraced her with eager arms. they roam the happy fields together now, sometimes he leading, sometimes she; and orpheus gazes as much as he will upon her, no longer incurring a penalty for a thoughtless glance. the story of orpheus has furnished pope with an illustration of the power of music, for his "ode for st. cecilia's day" the following stanza relates the conclusion of the story: "but soon, too soon the lover turns his eyes; again she falls, again she dies, she dies! how wilt thou now the fatal sisters move? no crime was thine, if't is no crime to love. now under hanging mountains, beside the falls of fountains, or where hebrus wanders, rolling in meanders, all alone, he makes his moan, and calls her ghost, forever, ever, ever lost! now with furies surrounded, despairing, confounded, he trembles, he glows, amidst rhodope's snows see, wild as the winds o'er the desert he flies; hark! haemus resounds with the bacchanals' cries; ah, see, he dies! yet even in death eurydice he sung, eurydice still trembled on his tongue: eurydice the woods eurydice the floods eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung" the superior melody of the nightingale's song over the grave of orpheus is alluded to by southey in his "thalaba": "then on his ear what sounds of harmony arose' far music and the distance-mellowed song from bowers of merriment, the waterfall remote, the murmuring of the leafy groves; the single nightingale perched in the rosier by, so richly toned, that never from that most melodious bird singing a love song to his brooding mate, did thracian shepherd by the grave of orpheus hear a sweeter melody, though there the spirit of the sepulchre all his own power infuse, to swell the incense that he loves" aristaeus, the bee-keeper man avails himself of the instincts of the inferior animals for his own advantage. hence sprang the art of keeping bees. honey must first have been known as a wild product, the bees building their structures in hollow trees or holes in the rocks, or any similar cavity that chance offered. thus occasionally the carcass of a dead animal would be occupied by the bees for that purpose. it was no doubt from some such incident that the superstition arose that the bees were engendered by the decaying flesh of the animal; and virgil, in the following story, shows how this supposed fact may be turned to account for renewing the swarm when it has been lost by disease or accident: aristaeus, who first taught the management of bees, was the son of the water-nymph cyrene. his bees had perished, and he resorted for aid to his mother. he stood at the river side and thus addressed her: "o mother, the pride of my life is taken from me! i have lost my precious bees. my care and skill have availed me nothing, and you my mother have not warded off from me the blow of misfortune." his mother heard these complaints as she sat in her palace at the bottom of the river, with her attendant nymphs around her. they were engaged in female occupations, spinning and weaving, while one told stories to amuse the rest. the sad voice of aristaeus interrupting their occupation, one of them put her head above the water and seeing him, returned and gave information to his mother, who ordered that he should be brought into her presence. the river at her command opened itself and let him pass in, while it stood curled like a mountain on either side. he descended to the region where the fountains of the great rivers lie; he saw the enormous receptacles of waters and was almost deafened with the roar, while he surveyed them hurrying off in various directions to water the face of the earth. arriving at his mother's apartment, he was hospitably received by cyrene and her nymphs, who spread their table with the richest dainties. they first poured out libations to neptune, then regaled themselves with the feast, and after that cyrene thus addressed him: "there is an old prophet named proteus, who dwells in the sea and is a favorite of neptune, whose herd of sea-calves he pastures. we nymphs hold him in great respect, for he is a learned sage and knows all things, past, present, and to come. he can tell you, my son, the cause of the mortality among your bees, and how you may remedy it. but he will not do it voluntarily, however you may entreat him. you must compel him by force. if you seize him and chain him, he will answer your questions in order to get released, for he cannot by all his arts get away if you hold fast the chains. i will carry you to his cave, where he comes at noon to take his midday repose. then you may easily secure him. but when he finds himself captured, his resort is to a power he possesses of changing himself into various forms. he will become a wild boar or a fierce tiger, a scaly dragon or lion with yellow mane. or he will make a noise like the crackling of flames or the rush of water, so as to tempt you to let go the chain, when he will make his escape. but you have only to keep him fast bound, and at last when he finds all his arts unavailing, he will return to his own figure and obey your commands." so saying she sprinkled her son with fragrant nectar, the beverage of the gods, and immediately an unusual vigor filled his frame, and courage his heart, while perfume breathed all around him. the nymph led her son to the prophet's cave and concealed him among the recesses of the rocks, while she herself took her place behind the clouds. when noon came and the hour when men and herds retreat from the glaring sun to indulge in quiet slumber, proteus issued from the water, followed by his herd of sea-calves which spread themselves along the shore. he sat on the rock and counted his herd; then stretched himself on the floor of the cave and went to sleep. aristaeus hardly allowed him to get fairly asleep before he fixed the fetters on him and shouted aloud. proteus, waking and finding himself captured, immediately resorted to his arts, becoming first a fire, then a flood, then a horrible wild beast, in rapid succession. but finding all would not do, he at last resumed his own form and addressed the youth in angry accents: "who are you, bold youth, who thus invade my abode, and what do yot want of me?" aristaeus replied, "proteus, you know already, for it is needless for any one to attempt to deceive you. and do you also cease your efforts to elude me. i am led hither by divine assistance, to know from you the cause of my misfortune and how to remedy it." at these words the prophet, fixing on him his gray eyes with a piercing look, thus spoke: "you receive the merited reward of your deeds, by which eurydice met her death, for in flying from you she trod upon a serpent, of whose bite she died. to avenge her death, the nymphs, her companions, have sent this destruction to your bees. you have to appease their anger, and thus it must be done: select four bulls, of perfect form and size, and four cows of equal beauty, build four altars to the nymphs, and sacrifice the animals, leaving their carcasses in the leafy grove. to orpheus and eurydice you shall pay such funeral honors as may allay their resentment. returning after nine days, you will examine the bodies of the cattle slain and see what will befall." aristaeus faithfully obeyed these directions. he sacrificed the cattle, he left their bodies in the grove, he offered funeral honors to the shades of orpheus and eurydice; then returning on the ninth day he examined the bodies of the animals, and, wonderful to relate! a swarm of bees had taken possession of one of the carcasses and were pursuing their labors there as in a hive. in "the task," cowper alludes to the story of aristaeus, when speaking of the ice-palace built by the empress anne of russia. he has been describing the fantastic forms which ice assumes in connection with waterfalls, etc.: "less worthy of applause though more admired because a novelty, the work of man, imperial mistress of the fur-clad russ, thy most magnificent and mighty freak, the wonder of the north. no forest fell when thou wouldst build, no quarry sent its stores t' enrich thy walls; but thou didst hew the floods and make thy marble of the glassy wave. in such a palace aristaeus found cyrene, when he bore the plaintive tale of his lost bees to her maternal ear." milton also appears to have had cyrene and her domestic scene in his mind when he describes to us sabrina, the nymph of the river severn, in the guardian-spirit's song in "comus": "sabrina fair! listen where thou art sitting under the glassy, cool, translucent wave in twisted braids of lilies knitting the loose train of thy amber-dropping hair; listen for dear honor's sake, goddess of the silver lake! listen and save." the following are other celebrated mythical poets and musicians, some of whom were hardly inferior to orpheus himself: amphion amphion was the son of jupiter and antiope, queen of thebes. with his twin brother zethus he was exposed at birth on mount cithaeron, where they grew up among the shepherds, not knowing their parentage. mercury gave amphion a lyre and taught him to play upon it, and his brother occupied himself in hunting and tending the flocks. meanwhile antiope, their mother, who had been treated with great cruelty by lycus, the usurping king of thebes, and by dirce, his wife, found means to inform her children of their rights and to summon them to her assistance. with a band of their fellow-herdsmen they attacked and slew lycus, and tying dirce by the hair of her head to a bull, let him drag her till she was dead. amphion, having become king of thebes, fortified the city with a wall. it is said that when he played on his lyre the stones moved of their own accord and took their places in the wall. see tennyson's poem of "amphion" for an amusing use made of this story. linus linus was the instructor of hercules in music, but having one day reproved his pupil rather harshly, he roused the anger of hercules, who struck him with his lyre and killed him. thamyris an ancient thracian bard, who in his presumption challenged the muses to a trial of skill, and being overcome in the contest, was deprived by them of his sight. milton alludes to him with other blind bards, when speaking of his own blindness, "paradise lost," book iii., . marsyas minerva invented the flute, and played upon it to the delight of all the celestial auditors; but the mischievous urchin cupid having dared to laugh at the queer face which the goddess made while playing, minerva threw the instrument indignantly away, and it fell down to earth, and was found by marsyas. he blew upon it, and drew from it such ravishing sounds that he was tempted to challenge apollo himself to a musical contest. the god of course triumphed, and punished marsyas by flaying him alive. melampus melampus was the first mortal endowed with prophetic powers. before his house there stood an oak tree containing a serpent's nest. the old serpents were killed by the servants, but melampus took care of the young ones and fed them carefully. one day when he was asleep under the oak the serpents licked his ears with their tongues. on awaking he was astonished to find that he now understood the language of birds and creeping things. this knowledge enabled him to foretell future events, and he became a renowned soothsayer. at one time his enemies took him captive and kept him strictly imprisoned. melampus in the silence of the night heard the woodworms in the timbers talking together, and found out by what they said that the timbers were nearly eaten through and the roof would soon fall in. he told his captors and demanded to be let out, warning them also. they took his warning, and thus escaped destruction, and rewarded melampus and held him in high honor. musaeus a semi-mythological personage who was represented by one tradition to be the son of orpheus. he is said to have written sacred poems and oracles. milton couples his name with that of orpheus in his "il penseroso": "but o, sad virgin, that thy power might raise musaeus from his bower, or bid the soul of orpheus sing such notes as warbled to the string, drew iron tears down pluto's cheek, and made hell grant what love did seek." chapter xxv arion--ibycus--simonides--sappho the poets whose adventures compose this chapter were real persons some of whose works yet remain, and their influence on poets who succeeded them is yet more important than their poetical remains. the adventures recorded of them in the following stories rest on the same authority as other narratives of the "age of fable," that is, of the poets who have told them. in their present form, the first two are translated from the german, arion from schlegel, and ibycus from schiller. arion arion was a famous musician, and dwelt in the court of periander, king of corinth, with whom he was a great favorite. there was to be a musical contest in sicily, and arion longed to compete for the prize. he told his wish to periander, who besought him like a brother to give up the thought. "pray stay with me," he said, "and be contented. he who strives to win may lose." arion answered, "a wandering life best suits the free heart of a poet. the talent which a god bestowed on me, i would fain make a source of pleasure to others. and if i win the prize, how will the enjoyment of it be increased by the consciousness of my widespread fame!" he went, won the prize, and embarked with his wealth in a corinthian ship for home. on the second morning after setting sail, the wind breathed mild and fair. "o periander," he exclaimed, "dismiss your fears! soon shall you forget them in my embrace. with what lavish offerings will we display our gratitude to the gods, and how merry will we be at the festal board!" the wind and sea continued propitious. not a cloud dimmed the firmament. he had not trusted too much to the ocean--but he had to man. he overheard the seamen exchanging hints with one another, and found they were plotting to possess themselves of his treasure. presently they surrounded him loud and mutinous, and said, "arion, you must die! if you would have a grave on shore, yield yourself to die on this spot; but if otherwise, cast yourself into the sea." "will nothing satisfy you but my life?" said he. "take my gold, and welcome. i willingly buy my life at that price." "no, no; we cannot spare you. your life would be too dangerous to us. where could we go to escape from periander, if he should know that you had been robbed by us? your gold would be of little use to us, if on returning home, we could never more be free from fear." "grant me, then," said he, "a last request, since nought will avail to save my life, that i may die, as i have lived, as becomes a bard. when i shall have sung my death song, and my harp-strings shall have ceased to vibrate, then i will bid farewell to life, and yield uncomplaining to my fate." this prayer, like the others, would have been unheeded,--they thought only of their booty,--but to hear so famous a musician, that moved their rude hearts. "suffer me," he added, "to arrange my dress. apollo will not favor me unless i be clad in my minstrel garb." he clothed his well-proportioned limbs in gold and purple fair to see, his tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adorned his arms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath, and over his neck and shoulders flowed his hair perfumed with odors. his left hand held the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he struck its chords. like one inspired, he seemed to drink the morning air and glitter in the morning ray. the seamen gazed with admiration. he strode forward to the vessel's side and looked down into the deep blue sea. addressing his lyre, he sang, "companion of my voice, come with me to the realm of shades. though cerberus may growl, we know the power of song can tame his rage. ye heroes of elysium, who have passed the darkling flood,--ye happy souls, soon shall i join your band. yet can ye relieve my grief? alas, i leave my friend behind me. thou, who didst find thy eurydice, and lose her again as soon as found; when she had vanished like a dream, how didst thou hate the cheerful light! i must away, but i will not fear. the gods look down upon us. ye who slay me unoffending, when i am no more, your time of trembling shall come. ye nereids, receive your guest, who throws himself upon your mercy!" so saying, he sprang into the deep sea. the waves covered him, and the seamen held on their way, fancying themselves safe from all danger of detection. but the strains of his music had drawn round him the inhabitants of the deep to listen, and dolphins followed the ship as if chained by a spell. while he struggled in the waves, a dolphin offered him his back, and carried him mounted thereon safe to shore. at the spot where he landed, a monument of brass was afterwards erected upon the rocky shore, to preserve the memory of the event. when arion and the dolphin parted, each to his own element, arion thus poured forth his thanks: "farewell, thou faithful, friendly fish! would that i could reward thee; but thou canst not wend with me, nor i with thee. companionship we may not have. may galatea, queen of the deep, accord thee her favor, and thou, proud of the burden, draw her chariot over the smooth mirror of the deep." arion hastened from the shore, and soon saw before him the towers of corinth. he journeyed on, harp in hand, singing as he went, full of love and happiness, forgetting his losses, and mindful only of what remained, his friend and his lyre. he entered the hospitable halls, and was soon clasped in the embrace of periander. "i come back to thee, my friend," he said. "the talent which a god bestowed has been the delight of thousands, but false knaves have stripped me of my well-earned treasure; yet i retain the consciousness of wide spread fame." then he told periander all the wonderful events that had befallen him, who heard him with amazement. "shall such wickedness triumph?" said he. "then in vain is power lodged in my hands. that we may discover the criminals, you must remain here in concealment, and so they will approach without suspicion." when the ship arrived in the harbor, he summoned the mariners before him. "have you heard anything of arion?" he inquired. "i anxiously look for his return." they replied, "we left him well and prosperous in tarentum." as they said these words, arion stepped forth and faced them. his well- proportioned limbs were arrayed in gold and purple fair to see, his tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adorned his arms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath, and over his neck and shoulders flowed his hair perfumed with odors; his left hand held the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he struck its chords. they fell prostrate at his feet, as if a lightning bolt had struck them. "we meant to murder him, and he has become a god. o earth, open and receive us!" then periander spoke. "he lives, the master of the lay! kind heaven protects the poet's life. as for you, i invoke not the spirit of vengeance; arion wishes not your blood. ye slaves of avarice, begone! seek some barbarous land, and never may aught beautiful delight your souls!" spenser represents arion, mounted on his dolphin, accompanying the train of neptune and amphitrite: "then was there heard a most celestial sound of dainty music which did next ensue, and, on the floating waters as enthroned, arion with his harp unto him drew the ears and hearts of all that goodly crew; even when as yet the dolphin which him bore through the aegean seas from pirates' view, stood still, by him astonished at his lore, and all the raging seas for joy forgot to roar." byron, in his "childe harold," canto ii., alludes to the story of arion, when, describing his voyage, he represents one of the seamen making music to entertain the rest: "the moon is up; by heaven a lovely eve! long streams of light o'er dancing waves expand; now lads on shore may sigh and maids believe; such be our fate when we return to land! meantime some rude arion's restless hand wakes the brisk harmony that sailors love; a circle there of merry listeners stand, or to some well-known measure featly move thoughtless as if on shore they still were free to rove." ibycus in order to understand the story of ibycus which follows it is necessary to remember, first, that the theatres of the ancients were immense fabrics capable of containing from ten to thirty thousand spectators, and as they were used only on festival occasions, and admission was free to all, they were usually filled. they were without roofs and open to the sky, and the performances were in the daytime. secondly, the appalling representation of the furies is not exaggerated in the story. it is recorded that aeschylus, the tragic poet, having on one occasion represented the furies in a chorus of fifty performers, the terror of the spectators was such that many fainted and were thrown into convulsions, and the magistrates forbade a like representation for the future. ibycus, the pious poet, was on his way to the chariot races and musical competitions held at the isthmus of corinth, which attracted all of grecian lineage. apollo had bestowed on him the gift of song, the honeyed lips of the poet, and he pursued his way with lightsome step, full of the god. already the towers of corinth crowning the height appeared in view, and he had entered with pious awe the sacred grove of neptune. no living object was in sight, only a flock of cranes flew overhead taking the same course as himself in their migration to a southern clime. "good luck to you, ye friendly squadrons," he exclaimed, "my companions from across the sea. i take your company for a good omen. we come from far and fly in search of hospitality. may both of us meet that kind reception which shields the stranger guest from harm!" he paced briskly on, and soon was in the middle of the wood. there suddenly, at a narrow pass, two robbers stepped forth and barred his way. he must yield or fight. but his hand, accustomed to the lyre, and not to the strife of arms, sank powerless. he called for help on men and gods, but his cry reached no defender's ear. "then here must i die," said he, "in a strange land, unlamented, cut off by the hand of outlaws, and see none to avenge my cause." sore wounded, he sank to the earth, when hoarse screamed the cranes overhead. "take up my cause, ye cranes," he said, "since no voice but yours answers to my cry." so saying he closed his eyes in death. the body, despoiled and mangled, was found, and though disfigured with wounds, was recognized by the friend in corinth who had expected him as a guest. "is it thus i find you restored to me?" he exclaimed. "i who hoped to entwine your temples with the wreath of triumph in the strife of song!" the guests assembled at the festival heard the tidings with dismay. all greece felt the wound, every heart owned its loss. they crowded round the tribunal of the magistrates, and demanded vengeance on the murderers and expiation with their blood. but what trace or mark shall point out the perpetrator from amidst the vast multitude attracted by the splendor of the feast? did he fall by the hands of robbers or did some private enemy slay him? the all-discerning sun alone can tell, for no other eye beheld it. yet not improbably the murderer even now walks in the midst of the throng, and enjoys the fruits of his crime, while vengeance seeks for him in vain. perhaps in their own temple's enclosure he defies the gods mingling freely in this throng of men that now presses into the amphitheatre. for now crowded together, row on row, the multitude fill the seats till it seems as if the very fabric would give way. the murmur of voices sounds like the roar of the sea, while the circles widening in their ascent rise tier on tier, as if they would reach the sky. and now the vast assemblage listens to the awful voice of the chorus personating the furies, which in solemn guise advances with measured step, and moves around the circuit of the theatre. can they be mortal women who compose that awful group, and can that vast concourse of silent forms be living beings? the choristers, clad in black, bore in their fleshless hands torches blazing with a pitchy flame. their cheeks were bloodless, and in place of hair writhing and swelling serpents curled around their brows. forming a circle, these awful beings sang their hymns, rending the hearts of the guilty, and enchaining all their faculties. it rose and swelled, overpowering the sound of the instruments, stealing the judgment, palsying the heart, curdling the blood. "happy the man who keeps his heart pure from guilt and crime! him we avengers touch not; he treads the path of life secure from us. but woe! woe! to him who has done the deed of secret murder. we the fearful family of night fasten ourselves upon his whole being. thinks he by flight to escape us? we fly still faster in pursuit, twine our snakes around his feet, and bring him to the ground. unwearied we pursue; no pity checks our course; still on and on, to the end of life, we give him no peace nor rest." thus the eumenides sang, and moved in solemn cadence, while stillness like the stillness of death sat over the whole assembly as if in the presence of superhuman beings; and then in solemn march completing the circuit of the theatre, they passed out at the back of the stage. every heart fluttered between illusion and reality, and every breast panted with undefined terror, quailing before the awful power that watches secret crimes and winds unseen the skein of destiny. at that moment a cry burst forth from one of the uppermost benches--"look! look! comrade, yonder are the cranes of ibycus!" and suddenly there appeared sailing across the sky a dark object which a moment's inspection showed to be a flock of cranes flying directly over the theatre. "of ibycus! did he say?" the beloved name revived the sorrow in every breast. as wave follows wave over the face of the sea, so ran from mouth to mouth the words, "of ibycus! him whom we all lament, whom some murderer's hand laid low! what have the cranes to do with him?" and louder grew the swell of voices, while like a lightning's flash the thought sped through every heart, "observe the power of the eumenides! the pious poet shall be avenged! the murderer has informed against himself. seize the man who uttered that cry and the other to whom he spoke!" the culprit would gladly have recalled his words, but it was too late. the faces of the murderers, pale with terror, betrayed their guilt. the people took them before the judge, they confessed their crime, and suffered the punishment they deserved. simonides simonides was one of the most prolific of the early poets of greece, but only a few fragments of his compositions have descended to us. he wrote hymns, triumphal odes, and elegies. in the last species of composition he particularly excelled. his genius was inclined to the pathetic, and none could touch with truer effect the chords of human sympathy. the "lamentation of danae," the most important of the fragments which remain of his poetry, is based upon the tradition that danae and her infant son were confined by order of her father, acrisius, in a chest and set adrift on the sea. the chest floated towards the island of seriphus, where both were rescued by dictys, a fisherman, and carried to polydectes, king of the country, who received and protected them. the child, perseus, when grown up became a famous hero, whose adventures have been recorded in a previous chapter. simonides passed much of his life at the courts of princes, and often employed his talents in panegyric and festal odes, receiving his reward from the munificence of those whose exploits he celebrated. this employment was not derogatory, but closely resembles that of the earliest bards, such as demodocus, described by homer, or of homer himself, as recorded by tradition. on one occasion, when residing at the court of scopas, king of thessaly, the prince desired him to prepare a poem in celebration of his exploits, to be recited at a banquet. in order to diversify his theme, simonides, who was celebrated for his piety, introduced into his poem the exploits of castor and pollux. such digressions were not unusual with the poets on similar occasions, and one might suppose an ordinary mortal might have been content to share the praises of the sons of leda. but vanity is exacting; and as scopas sat at his festal board among his courtiers and sycophants, he grudged every verse that did not rehearse his own praises. when simonides approached to receive the promised reward scopas bestowed but half the expected sum, saying, "here is payment for my portion of thy performance; castor and pollux will doubtless compensate thee for so much as relates to them." the disconcerted poet returned to his seat amidst the laughter which followed the great man's jest. in a little time he received a message that two young men on horseback were waiting without and anxious to see him. simonides hastened to the door, but looked in vain for the visitors. scarcely, however, had he left the banqueting hall when the roof fell in with a loud crash, burying scopas and all his guests beneath the ruins. on inquiring as to the appearance of the young men who had sent for him, simonides was satisfied that they were no other than castor and pollux themselves. sappho sappho was a poetess who flourished in a very early age of greek literature. of her works few fragments remain, but they are enough to establish her claim to eminent poetical genius. the story of sappho commonly alluded to is that she was passionately in love with a beautiful youth named phaon, and failing to obtain a return of affection she threw herself from the promontory of leucadia into the sea, under a superstition that those who should take that "lover's-leap" would, if not destroyed, be cured of their love. byron alludes to the story of sappho in "childe harold," canto ii.: "childe harold sailed and passed the barren spot where sad penelope o'erlooked the wave, and onward viewed the mount, not yet forgot, the lover's refuge and the lesbian's grave. dark sappho! could not verse immortal save that breast imbued with such immortal fire? "'twas on a grecian autumn's gentle eve childe harold hailed leucadia's cape afar;" etc. those who wish to know more of sappho and her "leap" are referred to the "spectator," nos. and . see also moore's "evenings in greece." chapter xxvi endymion--orion--aurora and tithonus--acis and galatea diana and endymion endymion was a beautiful youth who fed his flock on mount latmos. one calm, clear night diana, the moon, looked down and saw him sleeping. the cold heart of the virgin goddess was warmed by his surpassing beauty, and she came down to him, kissed him, and watched over him while he slept. another story was that jupiter bestowed on him the gift of perpetual youth united with perpetual sleep. of one so gifted we can have but few adventures to record. diana, it was said, took care that his fortunes should not suffer by his inactive life, for she made his flock increase, and guarded his sheep and lambs from the wild beasts. the story of endymion has a peculiar charm from the human meaning which it so thinly veils. we see in endymion the young poet, his fancy and his heart seeking in vain for that which can satisfy them, finding his favorite hour in the quiet moonlight, and nursing there beneath the beams of the bright and silent witness the melancholy and the ardor which consumes him. the story suggests aspiring and poetic love, a life spent more in dreams than in reality, and an early and welcome death.--s. g. b. the "endymion" of keats is a wild and fanciful poem, containing some exquisite poetry, as this, to the moon: "... the sleeping kine couched in thy brightness dream of fields divine. innumerable mountains rise, and rise, ambitious for the hallowing of thine eyes, and yet thy benediction passeth not one obscure hiding-place, one little spot where pleasure may be sent; the nested wren has thy fair face within its tranquil ken;" etc., etc. dr. young, in the "night thoughts," alludes to endymion thus: "... these thoughts, o night, are thine; from thee they came like lovers' secret sighs, while others slept. so cynthia, poets feign, in shadows veiled, soft, sliding from her sphere, her shepherd cheered, of her enamoured less than i of thee." fletcher, in the "faithful shepherdess," tells: "how the pale phoebe, hunting in a grove, first saw the boy endymion, from whose eyes she took eternal fire that never dies; how she conveyed him softly in a sleep, his temples bound with poppy, to the steep head of old latmos, where she stoops each night, gilding the mountain with her brother's light, to kiss her sweetest." orion orion was the son of neptune. he was a handsome giant and a mighty hunter. his father gave him the power of wading through the depths of the sea, or, as others say, of walking on its surface. orion loved merope, the daughter of oenopion, king of chios, and sought her in marriage. he cleared the island of wild beasts, and brought the spoils of the chase as presents to his beloved; but as oenopion constantly deferred his consent, orion attempted to gain possession of the maiden by violence. her father, incensed at this conduct, having made orion drunk, deprived him of his sight and cast him out on the seashore. the blinded hero followed the sound of a cyclops' hammer till he reached lemnos, and came to the forge of vulcan, who, taking pity on him, gave him kedalion, one of his men, to be his guide to the abode of the sun. placing kedalion on his shoulders, orion proceeded to the east, and there meeting the sun-god, was restored to sight by his beam. after this he dwelt as a hunter with diana, with whom he was a favorite, and it is even said she was about to marry him. her brother was highly displeased and often chid her, but to no purpose. one day, observing orion wading through the sea with his head just above the water, apollo pointed it out to his sister and maintained that she could not hit that black thing on the sea. the archer-goddess discharged a shaft with fatal aim. the waves rolled the dead body of orion to the land, and bewailing her fatal error with many tears, diana placed him among the stars, where he appears as a giant, with a girdle, sword, lion's skin, and club. sirius, his dog, follows him, and the pleiads fly before him. the pleiads were daughters of atlas, and nymphs of diana's train. one day orion saw them and became enamoured and pursued them. in their distress they prayed to the gods to change their form, and jupiter in pity turned them into pigeons, and then made them a constellation in the sky. though their number was seven, only six stars are visible, for electra, one of them, it is said left her place that she might not behold the ruin of troy, for that city was founded by her son dardanus. the sight had such an effect on her sisters that they have looked pale ever since. mr. longfellow has a poem on the "occultation of orion." the following lines are those in which he alludes to the mythic story. we must premise that on the celestial globe orion is represented as robed in a lion's skin and wielding a club. at the moment the stars of the constellation, one by one, were quenched in the light of the moon, the poet tells us "down fell the red skin of the lion into the river at his feet. his mighty club no longer beat the forehead of the bull; but he reeled as of yore beside the sea, when blinded by oenopion he sought the blacksmith at his forge, and climbing up the narrow gorge, fixed his blank eyes upon the sun." tennyson has a different theory of the pleiads: "many a night i saw the pleiads, rising through the mellow shade, glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid." --locksley hall. byron alludes to the lost pleiad: "like the lost pleiad seen no more below." see also mrs. hemans's verses on the same subject. aurora and tithonus the goddess of the dawn, like her sister the moon, was at times inspired with the love of mortals. her greatest favorite was tithonus, son of laomedon, king of troy. she stole him away, and prevailed on jupiter to grant him immortality; but, forgetting to have youth joined in the gift, after some time she began to discern, to her great mortification, that he was growing old. when his hair was quite white she left his society; but he still had the range of her palace, lived on ambrosial food, and was clad in celestial raiment. at length he lost the power of using his limbs, and then she shut him up in his chamber, whence his feeble voice might at times be heard. finally she turned him into a grasshopper. memnon was the son of aurora and tithonus. he was king of the aethiopians, and dwelt in the extreme east, on the shore of ocean. he came with his warriors to assist the kindred of his father in the war of troy. king priam received him with great honors, and listened with admiration to his narrative of the wonders of the ocean shore. the very day after his arrival, memnon, impatient of repose, led his troops to the field. antilochus, the brave son of nestor, fell by his hand, and the greeks were put to flight, when achilles appeared and restored the battle. a long and doubtful contest ensued between him and the son of aurora; at length victory declared for achilles, memnon fell, and the trojans fled in dismay. aurora, who from her station in the sky had viewed with apprehension the danger of her son, when she saw him fall, directed his brothers, the winds, to convey his body to the banks of the river esepus in paphlagonia. in the evening aurora came, accompanied by the hours and the pleiads, and wept and lamented over her son. night, in sympathy with her grief, spread the heaven with clouds; all nature mourned for the offspring of the dawn. the aethiopians raised his tomb on the banks of the stream in the grove of the nymphs, and jupiter caused the sparks and cinders of his funeral pile to be turned into birds, which, dividing into two flocks, fought over the pile till they fell into the flame. every year at the anniversary of his death they return and celebrate his obsequies in like manner. aurora remains inconsolable for the loss of her son. her tears still flow, and may be seen at early morning in the form of dew-drops on the grass. unlike most of the marvels of ancient mythology, there still exist some memorials of this. on the banks of the river nile, in egypt, are two colossal statues, one of which is said to be the statue of memnon. ancient writers record that when the first rays of the rising sun fall upon this statue a sound is heard to issue from it, which they compare to the snapping of a harp-string. there is some doubt about the identification of the existing statue with the one described by the ancients, and the mysterious sounds are still more doubtful. yet there are not wanting some modern testimonies to their being still audible. it has been suggested that sounds produced by confined air making its escape from crevices or caverns in the rocks may have given some ground for the story. sir gardner wilkinson, a late traveller, of the highest authority, examined the statue itself, and discovered that it was hollow, and that "in the lap of the statue is a stone, which on being struck emits a metallic sound, that might still be made use of to deceive a visitor who was predisposed to believe its powers." the vocal statue of memnon is a favorite subject of allusion with the poets. darwin, in his "botanic garden," says: "so to the sacred sun in memnon's fane spontaneous concords choired the matin strain; touched by his orient beam responsive rings the living lyre and vibrates all its strings; accordant aisles the tender tones prolong, and holy echoes swell the adoring song." book i., ., . acis and galatea scylla was a fair virgin of sicily, a favorite of the sea-nymphs. she had many suitors, but repelled them all, and would go to the grotto of galatea, and tell her how she was persecuted. one day the goddess, while scylla dressed her hair, listened to the story, and then replied, "yet, maiden, your persecutors are of the not ungentle race of men, whom, if you will, you can repel; but i, the daughter of nereus, and protected by such a band of sisters, found no escape from the passion of the cyclops but in the depths of the sea;" and tears stopped her utterance, which when the pitying maiden had wiped away with her delicate finger, and soothed the goddess, "tell me, dearest," said she, "the cause of your grief." galatea then said, "acis was the son of faunus and a naiad. his father and mother loved him dearly, but their love was not equal to mine. for the beautiful youth attached himself to me alone, and he was just sixteen years old, the down just beginning to darken his cheeks. as much as i sought his society, so much did the cyclops seek mine; and if you ask me whether my love for acis or my hatred of polyphemus was the stronger, i cannot tell you; they were in equal measure. o venus, how great is thy power! this fierce giant, the terror of the woods, whom no hapless stranger escaped unharmed, who defied even jove himself, learned to feel what love was, and, touched with a passion for me, forgot his flocks and his well-stored caverns. then for the first time he began to take some care of his appearance, and to try to make himself agreeable; he harrowed those coarse locks of his with a comb, and mowed his beard with a sickle, looked at his harsh features in the water, and composed his countenance. his love of slaughter, his fierceness and thirst of blood prevailed no more, and ships that touched at his island went away in safety. he paced up and down the sea-shore, imprinting huge tracks with his heavy tread, and, when weary, lay tranquilly in his cave. "there is a cliff which projects into the sea, which washes it on either side. thither one day the huge cyclops ascended, and sat down while his flocks spread themselves around. laying down his staff, which would have served for a mast to hold a vessel's sail, and taking his instrument compacted of numerous pipes, he made the hills and the waters echo the music of his song. i lay hid under a rock by the side of my beloved acis, and listened to the distant strain. it was full of extravagant praises of my beauty, mingled with passionate reproaches of my coldness and cruelty. "when he had finished he rose up, and, like a raging bull that cannot stand still, wandered off into the woods. acis and i thought no more of him, till on a sudden he came to a spot which gave him a view of us as we sat. 'i see you,' he exclaimed, 'and i will make this the last of your love-meetings.' his voice was a roar such as an angry cyclops alone could utter. aetna trembled at the sound. i, overcome with terror, plunged into the water. acis turned and fled, crying, 'save me, galatea, save me, my parents!' the cyclops pursued him, and tearing a rock from the side of the mountain hurled it at him. though only a corner of it touched him, it overwhelmed him. "all that fate left in my power i did for acis. i endowed him with the honors of his grandfather, the river-god. the purple blood flowed out from under the rock, but by degrees grew paler and looked like the stream of a river rendered turbid by rains, and in time it became clear. the rock cleaved open, and the water, as it gushed from the chasm, uttered a pleasing murmur." thus acis was changed into a river, and the river retains the name of acis. dryden, in his "cymon and iphigenia," has told the story of a clown converted into a gentleman by the power of love, in a way that shows traces of kindred to the old story of galatea and the cyclops. "what not his father's care nor tutor's art could plant with pains in his unpolished heart, the best instructor, love, at once inspired, as barren grounds to fruitfulness are fired. love taught him shame, and shame with love at strife soon taught the sweet civilities of life." chapter xxvii the trojan war minerva was the goddess of wisdom, but on one occasion she did a very foolish thing; she entered into competition with juno and venus for the prize of beauty. it happened thus: at the nuptials of peleus and thetis all the gods were invited with the exception of eris, or discord. enraged at her exclusion, the goddess threw a golden apple among the guests, with the inscription, "for the fairest." thereupon juno, venus, and minerva each claimed the apple. jupiter, not willing to decide in so delicate a matter, sent the goddesses to mount ida, where the beautiful shepherd paris was tending his flocks, and to him was committed the decision. the goddesses accordingly appeared before him. juno promised him power and riches, minerva glory and renown in war, and venus the fairest of women for his wife, each attempting to bias his decision in her own favor. paris decided in favor of venus and gave her the golden apple, thus making the two other goddesses his enemies. under the protection of venus, paris sailed to greece, and was hospitably received by menelaus, king of sparta. now helen, the wife of menelaus, was the very woman whom venus had destined for paris, the fairest of her sex. she had been sought as a bride by numerous suitors, and before her decision was made known, they all, at the suggestion of ulysses, one of their number, took an oath that they would defend her from all injury and avenge her cause if necessary. she chose menelaus, and was living with him happily when paris became their guest. paris, aided by venus, persuaded her to elope with him, and carried her to troy, whence arose the famous trojan war, the theme of the greatest poems of antiquity, those of homer and virgil. menelaus called upon his brother chieftains of greece to fulfil their pledge, and join him in his efforts to recover his wife. they generally came forward, but ulysses, who had married penelope, and was very happy in his wife and child, had no disposition to embark in such a troublesome affair. he therefore hung back and palamedes was sent to urge him. when palamedes arrived at ithaca ulysses pretended to be mad. he yoked an ass and an ox together to the plough and began to sow salt. palamedes, to try him, placed the infant telemachus before the plough, whereupon the father turned the plough aside, showing plainly that he was no madman, and after that could no longer refuse to fulfil his promise. being now himself gained for the undertaking, he lent his aid to bring in other reluctant chiefs, especially achilles. this hero was the son of that thetis at whose marriage the apple of discord had been thrown among the goddesses. thetis was herself one of the immortals, a sea-nymph, and knowing that her son was fated to perish before troy if he went on the expedition, she endeavored to prevent his going. she sent him away to the court of king lycomedes, and induced him to conceal himself in the disguise of a maiden among the daughters of the king. ulysses, hearing he was there, went disguised as a merchant to the palace and offered for sale female ornaments, among which he had placed some arms. while the king's daughters were engrossed with the other contents of the merchant's pack, achilles handled the weapons and thereby betrayed himself to the keen eye of ulysses, who found no great difficulty in persuading him to disregard his mother's prudent counsels and join his countrymen in the war. priam was king of troy, and paris, the shepherd and seducer of helen, was his son. paris had been brought up in obscurity, because there were certain ominous forebodings connected with him from his infancy that he would be the ruin of the state. these forebodings seemed at length likely to be realized, for the grecian armament now in preparation was the greatest that had ever been fitted out. agamemnon, king of mycenae, and brother of the injured menelaus, was chosen commander-in-chief. achilles was their most illustrious warrior. after him ranked ajax, gigantic in size and of great courage, but dull of intellect; diomede, second only to achilles in all the qualities of a hero; ulysses, famous for his sagacity; and nestor, the oldest of the grecian chiefs, and one to whom they all looked up for counsel. but troy was no feeble enemy. priam, the king, was now old, but he had been a wise prince and had strengthened his state by good government at home and numerous alliances with his neighbors. but the principal stay and support of his throne was his son hector, one of the noblest characters painted by heathen antiquity. he felt, from the first, a presentiment of the fall of his country, but still persevered in his heroic resistance, yet by no means justified the wrong which brought this danger upon her. he was united in marriage with andromache, and as a husband and father his character was not less admirable than as a warrior. the principal leaders on the side of the trojans, besides hector, were aeneas and deiphobus, glaucus and sarpedon. after two years of preparation the greek fleet and army assembled in the port of aulis in boeotia. here agamemnon in hunting killed a stag which was sacred to diana, and the goddess in return visited the army with pestilence, and produced a calm which prevented the ships from leaving the port. calchas, the soothsayer, thereupon announced that the wrath of the virgin goddess could only be appeased by the sacrifice of a virgin on her altar, and that none other but the daughter of the offender would be acceptable. agamemnon, however reluctant, yielded his consent, and the maiden iphigenia was sent for under the pretence that she was to be married to achilles. when she was about to be sacrificed the goddess relented and snatched her away, leaving a hind in her place, and iphigenia, enveloped in a cloud, was carried to tauris, where diana made her priestess of her temple. tennyson, in his "dream of fair women," makes iphigenia thus describe her feelings at the moment of sacrifice: "i was cut off from hope in that sad place, which yet to name my spirit loathes and fears; my father held his hand upon his face; i, blinded by my tears, "still strove to speak; my voice was thick with sighs, as in a dream. dimly i could descry the stern black-bearded kings, with wolfish eyes, waiting to see me die. "the tall masts quivered as they lay afloat, the temples and the people and the shore; one drew a sharp knife through my tender throat slowly,--and--nothing more." the wind now proving fair the fleet made sail and brought the forces to the coast of troy. the trojans came to oppose their landing, and at the first onset protesilaus fell by the hand of hector. protesilaus had left at home his wife, laodamia, who was most tenderly attached to him. when the news of his death reached her she implored the gods to be allowed to converse with him only three hours. the request was granted. mercury led protesilaus back to the upper world, and when he died a second time laodamia died with him. there was a story that the nymphs planted elm trees round his grave which grew very well till they were high enough to command a view of troy, and then withered away, while fresh branches sprang from the roots. wordsworth has taken the story of protesilaus and laodamia for the subject of a poem. it seems the oracle had declared that victory should be the lot of that party from which should fall the first victim to the war. the poet represents protesilaus, on his brief return to earth, as relating to laodamia the story of his fate: "'the wished-for wind was given; i then revolved the oracle, upon the silent sea; and if no worthier led the way, resolved that of a thousand vessels mine should be the foremost prow impressing to the strand,-- mine the first blood that tinged the trojan sand. "'yet bitter, ofttimes bitter was the pang when of thy loss i thought, beloved wife! on thee too fondly did my memory hang, and on the joys we shared in mortal life, the paths which we had trod,--these fountains, flowers; my new planned cities and unfinished towers. "'but should suspense permit the foe to cry, "behold they tremble! haughty their array, yet of their number no one dares to die?" in soul i swept the indignity away: old frailties then recurred: but lofty thought in act embodied my deliverance wrought.' "... upon the side of hellespont (such faith was entertained) a knot of spiry trees for ages grew from out the tomb of him for whom she died; and ever when such stature they had gained that ilium's walls were subject to their view, the trees' tall summits withered at the sight, a constant interchange of growth and blight!" "the iliad" the war continued without decisive results for nine years. then an event occurred which seemed likely to be fatal to the cause of the greeks, and that was a quarrel between achilles and agamemnon. it is at this point that the great poem of homer, "the iliad," begins. the greeks, though unsuccessful against troy, had taken the neighboring and allied cities, and in the division of the spoil a female captive, by name chryseis, daughter of chryses, priest of apollo, had fallen to the share of agamemnon. chryses came bearing the sacred emblems of his office, and begged the release of his daughter. agamemnon refused. thereupon chryses implored apollo to afflict the greeks till they should be forced to yield their prey. apollo granted the prayer of his priest, and sent pestilence into the grecian camp. then a council was called to deliberate how to allay the wrath of the gods and avert the plague. achilles boldly charged their misfortunes upon agamemnon as caused by his withholding chryseis. agamemnon, enraged, consented to relinquish his captive, but demanded that achilles should yield to him in her stead briseis, a maiden who had fallen to achilles' share in the division of the spoil. achilles submitted, but forthwith declared that he would take no further part in the war. he withdrew his forces from the general camp and openly avowed his intention of returning home to greece. the gods and goddesses interested themselves as much in this famous war as the parties themselves. it was well known to them that fate had decreed that troy should fall, at last, if her enemies should persevere and not voluntarily abandon the enterprise. yet there was room enough left for chance to excite by turns the hopes and fears of the powers above who took part with either side. juno and minerva, in consequence of the slight put upon their charms by paris, were hostile to the trojans; venus for the opposite cause favored them. venus enlisted her admirer mars on the same side, but neptune favored the greeks. apollo was neutral, sometimes taking one side, sometimes the other, and jove himself, though he loved the good king priam, yet exercised a degree of impartiality; not, however, without exceptions. thetis, the mother of achilles, warmly resented the injury done to her son. she repaired immediately to jove's palace and besought him to make the greeks repent of their injustice to achilles by granting success to the trojan arms. jupiter consented, and in the battle which ensued the trojans were completely successful. the greeks were driven from the field and took refuge in their ships. then agamemnon called a council of his wisest and bravest chiefs. nestor advised that an embassy should be sent to achilles to persuade him to return to the field; that agamemnon should yield the maiden, the cause of the dispute, with ample gifts to atone for the wrong he had done. agamemnon consented, and ulysses, ajax, and phoenix were sent to carry to achilles the penitent message. they performed that duty, but achilles was deaf to their entreaties. he positively refused to return to the field, and persisted in his resolution to embark for greece without delay. the greeks had constructed a rampart around their ships, and now instead of besieging troy they were in a manner besieged themselves, within their rampart. the next day after the unsuccessful embassy to achilles, a battle was fought, and the trojans, favored by jove, were successful, and succeeded in forcing a passage through the grecian rampart, and were about to set fire to the ships. neptune, seeing the greeks so pressed, came to their rescue. he appeared in the form of calchas the prophet, encouraged the warriors with his shouts, and appealed to each individually till he raised their ardor to such a pitch that they forced the trojans to give way. ajax performed prodigies of valor, and at length encountered hector. ajax shouted defiance, to which hector replied, and hurled his lance at the huge warrior. it was well aimed and struck ajax, where the belts that bore his sword and shield crossed each other on the breast. the double guard prevented its penetrating and it fell harmless. then ajax, seizing a huge stone, one of those that served to prop the ships, hurled it at hector. it struck him in the neck and stretched him on the plain. his followers instantly seized him and bore him off, stunned and wounded. while neptune was thus aiding the greeks and driving back the trojans, jupiter saw nothing of what was going on, for his attention had been drawn from the field by the wiles of juno. that goddess had arrayed herself in all her charms, and to crown all had borrowed of venus her girdle, called "cestus," which had the effect to heighten the wearer's charms to such a degree that they were quite irresistible. so prepared, juno went to join her husband, who sat on olympus watching the battle. when he beheld her she looked so charming that the fondness of his early love revived, and, forgetting the contending armies and all other affairs of state, he thought only of her and let the battle go as it would. but this absorption did not continue long, and when, upon turning his eyes downward, he beheld hector stretched on the plain almost lifeless from pain and bruises, he dismissed juno in a rage, commanding her to send iris and apollo to him. when iris came he sent her with a stern message to neptune, ordering him instantly to quit the field. apollo was despatched to heal hector's bruises and to inspirit his heart. these orders were obeyed with such speed that, while the battle still raged, hector returned to the field and neptune betook himself to his own dominions. an arrow from paris's bow wounded machaon, son of aesculapius, who inherited his father's art of healing, and was therefore of great value to the greeks as their surgeon, besides being one of their bravest warriors. nestor took machaon in his chariot and conveyed him from the field. as they passed the ships of achilles, that hero, looking out over the field, saw the chariot of nestor and recognized the old chief, but could not discern who the wounded chief was. so calling patroclus, his companion and dearest friend, he sent him to nestor's tent to inquire. patroclus, arriving at nestor's tent, saw machaon wounded, and having told the cause of his coming would have hastened away, but nestor detained him, to tell him the extent of the grecian calamities. he reminded him also how, at the time of departing for troy, achilles and himself had been charged by their respective fathers with different advice: achilles to aspire to the highest pitch of glory, patroclus, as the elder, to keep watch over his friend, and to guide his inexperience. "now," said nestor, "is the time for such influence. if the gods so please, thou mayest win him back to the common cause; but if not let him at least send his soldiers to the field, and come thou, patroclus, clad in his armor, and perhaps the very sight of it may drive back the trojans." patroclus was strongly moved with this address, and hastened back to achilles, revolving in his mind all he had seen and heard. he told the prince the sad condition of affairs at the camp of their late associates: diomede, ulysses, agamemnon, machaon, all wounded, the rampart broken down, the enemy among the ships preparing to burn them, and thus to cut off all means of return to greece. while they spoke the flames burst forth from one of the ships. achilles, at the sight, relented so far as to grant patroclus his request to lead the myrmidons (for so were achilles' soldiers called) to the field, and to lend him his armor, that he might thereby strike more terror into the minds of the trojans. without delay the soldiers were marshalled, patroclus put on the radiant armor and mounted the chariot of achilles, and led forth the men ardent for battle. but before he went, achilles strictly charged him that he should be content with repelling the foe "seek not," said he, "to press the trojans without me, lest thou add still more to the disgrace already mine." then exhorting the troops to do their best he dismissed them full of ardor to the fight. patroclus and his myrmidons at once plunged into the contest where it raged hottest; at the sight of which the joyful grecians shouted and the ships reechoed the acclaim. the trojans, at the sight of the well-known armor, struck with terror, looked everywhere for refuge. first those who had got possession of the ship and set it on fire left and allowed the grecians to retake it and extinguish the flames. then the rest of the trojans fled in dismay. ajax, menelaus, and the two sons of nestor performed prodigies of valor. hector was forced to turn his horses' heads and retire from the enclosure, leaving his men entangled in the fosse to escape as they could. patroclus drove them before him, slaying many, none daring to make a stand against him. at last sarpedon, son of jove, ventured to oppose himself in fight to patroclus. jupiter looked down upon him and would have snatched him from the fate which awaited him, but juno hinted that if he did so it would induce all others of the inhabitants of heaven to interpose in like manner whenever any of their offspring were endangered; to which reason jove yielded. sarpedon threw his spear, but missed patroclus, but patroclus threw his with better success. it pierced sarpedon's breast and he fell, and, calling to his friends to save his body from the foe, expired. then a furious contest arose for the possession of the corpse. the greeks succeeded and stripped sarpedon of his armor; but jove would not allow the remains of his son to be dishonored, and by his command apollo snatched from the midst of the combatants the body of sarpedon and committed it to the care of the twin brothers death and sleep, by whom it was transported to lycia, the native land of sarpedon, where it received due funeral rites. thus far patroclus had succeeded to his utmost wish in repelling the trojans and relieving his countrymen, but now came a change of fortune. hector, borne in his chariot, confronted him. patroclus threw a vast stone at hector, which missed its aim, but smote cebriones, the charioteer, and knocked him from the car. hector leaped from the chariot to rescue his friend, and patroclus also descended to complete his victory. thus the two heroes met face to face. at this decisive moment the poet, as if reluctant to give hector the glory, records that phoebus took part against patroclus. he struck the helmet from his head and the lance from his hand. at the same moment an obscure trojan wounded him in the back, and hector, pressing forward, pierced him with his spear. he fell mortally wounded. then arose a tremendous conflict for the body of patroclus, but his armor was at once taken possession of by hector, who retiring a short distance divested himself of his own armor and put on that of achilles, then returned to the fight. ajax and menelaus defended the body, and hector and his bravest warriors struggled to capture it. the battle raged with equal fortunes, when jove enveloped the whole face of heaven with a dark cloud. the lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and ajax, looking round for some one whom he might despatch to achilles to tell him of the death of his friend, and of the imminent danger that his remains would fall into the hands of the enemy, could see no suitable messenger. it was then that he exclaimed in those famous lines so often quoted, "father of heaven and earth! deliver thou achaia's host from darkness; clear the skies; give day; and, since thy sovereign will is such, destruction with it; but, o, give us day." --cowper. or, as rendered by pope, "... lord of earth and air! o king! o father! hear my humble prayer! dispel this cloud, the light of heaven restore; give me to see and ajax asks no more; if greece must perish we thy will obey, but let us perish in the face of day." jupiter heard the prayer and dispersed the clouds. then ajax sent antilochus to achilles with the intelligence of patroclus's death, and of the conflict raging for his remains. the greeks at last succeeded in bearing off the body to the ships, closely pursued by hector and aeneas and the rest of the trojans. achilles heard the fate of his friend with such distress that antilochus feared for a while that he would destroy himself. his groans reached the ears of his mother, thetis, far down in the deeps of ocean where she abode, and she hastened to him to inquire the cause. she found him overwhelmed with self-reproach that he had indulged his resentment so far, and suffered his friend to fall a victim to it. but his only consolation was the hope of revenge. he would fly instantly in search of hector. but his mother reminded him that he was now without armor, and promised him, if he would but wait till the morrow, she would procure for him a suit of armor from vulcan more than equal to that he had lost. he consented, and thetis immediately repaired to vulcan's palace. she found him busy at his forge making tripods for his own use, so artfully constructed that they moved forward of their own accord when wanted, and retired again when dismissed. on hearing the request of thetis, vulcan immediately laid aside his work and hastened to comply with her wishes. he fabricated a splendid suit of armor for achilles, first a shield adorned with elaborate devices, then a helmet crested with gold, then a corselet and greaves of impenetrable temper, all perfectly adapted to his form, and of consummate workmanship. it was all done in one night, and thetis, receiving it, descended with it to earth, and laid it down at achilles' feet at the dawn of day. the first glow of pleasure that achilles had felt since the death of patroclus was at the sight of this splendid armor. and now, arrayed in it, he went forth into the camp, calling all the chiefs to council. when they were all assembled he addressed them. renouncing his displeasure against agamemnon and bitterly lamenting the miseries that had resulted from it, he called on them to proceed at once to the field. agamemnon made a suitable reply, laying all the blame on ate, the goddess of discord; and thereupon complete reconcilement took place between the heroes. then achilles went forth to battle inspired with a rage and thirst for vengeance that made him irresistible. the bravest warriors fled before him or fell by his lance. hector, cautioned by apollo, kept aloof; but the god, assuming the form of one of priam's sons, lycaon, urged aeneas to encounter the terrible warrior. aeneas, though he felt himself unequal, did not decline the combat. he hurled his spear with all his force against the shield the work of vulcan. it was formed of five metal plates; two were of brass, two of tin, and one of gold. the spear pierced two thicknesses, but was stopped in the third. achilles threw his with better success. it pierced through the shield of aeneas, but glanced near his shoulder and made no wound. then aeneas seized a stone, such as two men of modern times could hardly lift, and was about to throw it, and achilles, with sword drawn, was about to rush upon him, when neptune, who looked out upon the contest, moved with pity for aeneas, who he saw would surely fall a victim if not speedily rescued, spread a cloud between the combatants, and lifting aeneas from the ground, bore him over the heads of warriors and steeds to the rear of the battle. achilles, when the mist cleared away, looked round in vain for his adversary, and acknowledging the prodigy, turned his arms against other champions. but none dared stand before him, and priam looking down from the city walls beheld his whole army in full flight towards the city. he gave command to open wide the gates to receive the fugitives, and to shut them as soon as the trojans should have passed, lest the enemy should enter likewise. but achilles was so close in pursuit that that would have been impossible if apollo had not, in the form of agenor, priam's son, encountered achilles for a while, then turned to fly, and taken the way apart from the city. achilles pursued and had chased his supposed victim far from the walls, when apollo disclosed himself, and achilles, perceiving how he had been deluded, gave up the chase. but when the rest had escaped into the town hector stood without determined to await the combat. his old father called to him from the walls and begged him to retire nor tempt the encounter. his mother, hecuba, also besought him to the same effect, but all in vain. "how can i," said he to himself, "by whose command the people went to this day's contest, where so many have fallen, seek safety for myself against a single foe? but what if i offer him to yield up helen and all her treasures and ample of our own beside? ah, no! it is too late. he would not even hear me through, but slay me while i spoke." while he thus ruminated. achilles approached, terrible as mars, his armor flashing lightning as he moved. at that sight hector's heart failed him and he fled. achilles swiftly pursued. they ran, still keeping near the walls, till they had thrice encircled the city. as often as hector approached the walls achilles intercepted him and forced him to keep out in a wider circle. but apollo sustained hector's strength and would not let him sink in weariness. then pallas, assuming the form of deiphobus, hector's bravest brother, appeared suddenly at his side. hector saw him with delight, and thus strengthened stopped his flight and turned to meet achilles. hector threw his spear, which struck the shield of achilles and bounded back. he turned to receive another from the hand of deiphobus, but deiphobus was gone. then hector understood his doom and said, "alas! it is plain this is my hour to die! i thought deiphobus at hand, but pallas deceived me, and he is still in troy. but i will not fall inglorious," so saying he drew his falchion from his side and rushed at once to combat. achilles, secured behind his shield, waited the approach of hector. when he came within reach of his spear, achilles choosing with his eye a vulnerable part where the armor leaves the neck uncovered, aimed his spear at that part and hector fell, death-wounded, and feebly said, "spare my body! let my parents ransom it, and let me receive funeral rites from the sons and daughters of troy." to which achilles replied, "dog, name not ransom nor pity to me, on whom you have brought such dire distress. no! trust me, naught shall save thy carcass from the dogs. though twenty ransoms and thy weight in gold were offered, i would refuse it all." so saying he stripped the body of its armor, and fastening cords to the feet tied them behind his chariot, leaving the body to trail along the ground. then mounting the chariot he lashed the steeds and so dragged the body to and fro before the city. what words can tell the grief of king priam and queen hecuba at this sight! his people could scarce restrain the old king from rushing forth. he threw himself in the dust and besought them each by name to give him way. hecuba's distress was not less violent. the citizens stood round them weeping. the sound of the mourning reached the ears of andromache, the wife of hector, as she sat among her maidens at work, and anticipating evil she went forth to the wall. when she saw the sight there presented, she would have thrown herself headlong from the wall, but fainted and fell into the arms of her maidens. recovering, she bewailed her fate, picturing to herself her country ruined, herself a captive, and her son dependent for his bread on the charity of strangers. when achilles and the greeks had taken their revenge on the killer of patroclus they busied themselves in paying due funeral rites to their friend. a pile was erected, and the body burned with due solemnity; and then ensued games of strength and skill, chariot races, wrestling, boxing, and archery. then the chiefs sat down to the funeral banquet and after that retired to rest. but achilles neither partook of the feast nor of sleep. the recollection of his lost friend kept him awake, remembering their companionship in toil and dangers, in battle or on the perilous deep. before the earliest dawn he left his tent, and joining to his chariot his swift steeds, he fastened hector's body to be dragged behind. twice he dragged him around the tomb of patroclus, leaving him at length stretched in the dust. but apollo would not permit the body to be torn or disfigured with all this abuse, but preserved it free from all taint or defilement. while achilles indulged his wrath in thus disgracing brave hector, jupiter in pity summoned thetis to his presence. he told her to go to her son and prevail on him to restore the body of hector to his friends. then jupiter sent iris to king priam to encourage him to go to achilles and beg the body of his son. iris delivered her message, and priam immediately prepared to obey. he opened his treasuries and took out rich garments and cloths, with ten talents in gold and two splendid tripods and a golden cup of matchless workmanship. then he called to his sons and bade them draw forth his litter and place in it the various articles designed for a ransom to achilles. when all was ready, the old king with a single companion as aged as himself, the herald idaeus, drove forth from the gates, parting there with hecuba, his queen, and all his friends, who lamented him as going to certain death. but jupiter, beholding with compassion the venerable king, sent mercury to be his guide and protector. mercury, assuming the form of a young warrior, presented himself to the aged couple, and while at the sight of him they hesitated whether to fly or yield, the god approached, and grasping priam's hand offered to be their guide to achilles' tent. priam gladly accepted his offered service, and he, mounting the carriage, assumed the reins and soon conveyed them to the tent of achilles. mercury's wand put to sleep all the guards, and without hinderance he introduced priam into the tent where achilles sat, attended by two of his warriors. the old king threw himself at the feet of achilles, and kissed those terrible hands which had destroyed so many of his sons. "think, o achilles," he said, "of thy own father, full of days like me, and trembling on the gloomy verge of life. perhaps even now some neighbor chief oppresses him and there is none at hand to succor him in his distress. yet doubtless knowing that achilles lives he still rejoices, hoping that one day he shall see thy face again. but no comfort cheers me, whose bravest sons, so late the flower of ilium, all have fallen. yet one i had, one more than all the rest the strength of my age, whom, fighting for his country, thou hast slain. i come to redeem his body, bringing inestimable ransom with me. achilles! reverence the gods! recollect thy father! for his sake show compassion to me!" these words moved achilles, and he wept; remembering by turns his absent father and his lost friend. moved with pity of priam's silver locks and beard, he raised him from the earth, and thus spake: "priam, i know that thou hast reached this place conducted by some god, for without aid divine no mortal even in his prime of youth had dared the attempt. i grant thy request, moved thereto by the evident will of jove." so saying he arose, and went forth with his two friends, and unloaded of its charge the litter, leaving two mantles and a robe for the covering of the body, which they placed on the litter, and spread the garments over it, that not unveiled it should be borne back to troy. then achilles dismissed the old king with his attendants, having first pledged himself to allow a truce of twelve days for the funeral solemnities. as the litter approached the city and was descried from the walls, the people poured forth to gaze once more on the face of their hero. foremost of all, the mother and the wife of hector came, and at the sight of the lifeless body renewed their lamentations. the people all wept with them, and to the going down of the sun there was no pause or abatement of their grief. the next day preparations were made for the funeral solemnities. for nine days the people brought wood and built the pile, and on the tenth they placed the body on the summit and applied the torch; while all troy thronging forth encompassed the pile. when it had completely burned, they quenched the cinders with wine, collected the bones and placed them in a golden urn, which they buried in the earth, and reared a pile of stones over the spot. "such honors ilium to her hero paid, and peaceful slept the mighty hector's shade." --pope. chapter xxviii the fall of troy--return of the greeks--orestes and electra the fall of troy the story of the iliad ends with the death of hector, and it is from the odyssey and later poems that we learn the fate of the other heroes. after the death of hector, troy did not immediately fall, but receiving aid from new allies still continued its resistance. one of these allies was memnon, the aethiopian prince, whose story we have already told. another was penthesilea, queen of the amazons, who came with a band of female warriors. all the authorities attest their valor and the fearful effect of their war cry. penthesilea slew many of the bravest warriors, but was at last slain by achilles. but when the hero bent over his fallen foe, and contemplated her beauty, youth, and valor, he bitterly regretted his victory. thersites, an insolent brawler and demagogue, ridiculed his grief, and was in consequence slain by the hero. achilles by chance had seen polyxena, daughter of king priam, perhaps on the occasion of the truce which was allowed the trojans for the burial of hector. he was captivated with her charms, and to win her in marriage agreed to use his influence with the greeks to grant peace to troy. while in the temple of apollo, negotiating the marriage, paris discharged at him a poisoned arrow, which, guided by apollo, wounded achilles in the heel, the only vulnerable part about him. for thetis his mother had dipped him when an infant in the river styx, which made every part of him invulnerable except the heel by which she held him. [footnote : the story of the invulnerability of achilles is not found in homer, and is inconsistent with his account. for how could achilles require the aid of celestial armor if be were invulnerable?] the body of achilles so treacherously slain was rescued by ajax and ulysses. thetis directed the greeks to bestow her son's armor on the hero who of all the survivors should be judged most deserving of it. ajax and ulysses were the only claimants; a select number of the other chiefs were appointed to award the prize. it was awarded to ulysses, thus placing wisdom before valor; whereupon ajax slew himself. on the spot where his blood sank into the earth a flower sprang up, called the hyacinth, bearing on its leaves the first two letters of the name of ajax, ai, the greek for "woe." thus ajax is a claimant with the boy hyacinthus for the honor of giving birth to this flower. there is a species of larkspur which represents the hyacinth of the poets in preserving the memory of this event, the delphinium ajacis-- ajax's larkspur. it was now discovered that troy could not be taken but by the aid of the arrows of hercules. they were in possession of philoctetes, the friend who had been with hercules at the last and lighted his funeral pyre. philoctetes had joined the grecian expedition against troy, but had accidentally wounded his foot with one of the poisoned arrows, and the smell from his wound proved so offensive that his companions carried him to the isle of lemnos and left him there. diomed was now sent to induce him to rejoin the army. he sukcceeded. philoctetes was cured of his wound by machaon, and paris was the first victim of the fatal arrows. in his distress paris bethought him of one whom in his prosperity he had forgotten. this was the nymph oenone, whom he had married when a youth, and had abandoned for the fatal beauty helen. oenone, remembering the wrongs she had suffered, refused to heal the wound, and paris went back to troy and died. oenone quickly repented, and hastened after him with remedies, but came too late, and in her grief hung herself. [footnote : tennyson has chosen oenone as the subject of a short poem; but he has omitted the most poetical part of the story, the return of paris wounded, her cruelty and subsequent repentance.] there was in troy a celebrated statue of minerva called the palladium. it was said to have fallen from heaven, and the belief was that the city could not be taken so long as this statue remained within it. ulysses and diomed entered the city in disguise and succeeded in obtaining the palladium, which they carried off to the grecian camp. but troy still held out, and the greeks began to despair of ever subduing it by force, and by advice of ulysses resolved to resort to stratagem. they pretended to be making preparations to abandon the siege, and a portion of the ships were withdrawn and lay hid behind a neighboring island. the greeks then constructed an immense wooden horse, which they gave out was intended as a propitiatory offering to minerva, but in fact was filled with armed men. the remaining greeks then betook themselves to their ships and sailed away, as if for a final departure. the trojans, seeing the encampment broken up and the fleet gone, concluded the enemy to have abandoned the siege. the gates were thrown open, and the whole population issued forth rejoicing at the long-prohibited liberty of passing freely over the scene of the late encampment. the great horse was the chief object of curiosity. all wondered what it could be for. some recommended to take it into the city as a trophy; others felt afraid of it. while they hesitate, laocoon, the priest of neptune exclaims, "what madness, citizens, is this? have you not learned enough of grecian fraud to be on your guard against it? for my part, i fear the greeks even when they offer gifts." [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] so saying he threw his lance at the horse's side. it struck, and a hollow sound reverberated like a groan. then perhaps the people might have taken his advice and destroyed the fatal horse and all its contents; but just at that moment a group of people appeared, dragging forward one who seemed a prisoner and a greek. stupefied with terror, he was brought before the chiefs, who reassured him, promising that his life should be spared on condition of his returning true answers to the questions asked him. he informed them that he was a greek, sinon by name, and that in consequence of the malice of ulysses he had been left behind by his countrymen at their departure. with regard to the wooden horse, he told them that it was a propitiatory offering to minerva, and made so huge for the express purpose of preventing its being carried within the city; for calchas the prophet had told them that if the trojans took possession of it they would assuredly triumph over the greeks. this language turned the tide of the people's feelings and they began to think how they might best secure the monstrous horse and the favorable auguries connected with it, when suddenly a prodigy occurred which left no room to doubt. there appeared, advancing over the sea, two immense serpents. they came upon the land, and the crowd fled in all directions. the serpents advanced directly to the spot where laocoon stood with his two sons. they first attacked the children, winding round their bodies and breathing their pestilential breath in their faces. the father, attempting to rescue them, is next seized and involved in the serpents' coils. he struggles to tear them away, but they overpower all his efforts and strangle him and the children in their poisonous folds. this event was regarded as a clear indication of the displeasure of the gods at laocoon's irreverent treatment of the wooden horse, which they no longer hesitated to regard as a sacred object, and prepared to introduce with due solemnity into the city. this was done with songs and triumphal acclamations, and the day closed with festivity. in the night the armed men who were enclosed in the body of the horse, being let out by the traitor sinon, opened the gates of the city to their friends, who had returned under cover of the night. the city was set on fire; the people, overcome with feasting and sleep, put to the sword, and troy completely subdued. one of the most celebrated groups of statuary in existence is that of laocoon and his children in the embrace of the serpents. a cast of it is owned by the boston athenaeum; the original is in the vatican at rome. the following lines are from the "childe harold" of byron: "now turning to the vatican go see laocoon's torture dignifying pain; a father's love and mortal's agony with an immortal's patience blending;--vain the struggle! vain against the coiling strain and gripe and deepening of the dragon's grasp the old man's clinch; the long envenomed chain rivets the living links; the enormous asp enforces pang on pang and stifles gasp on gasp." the comic poets will also occasionally borrow a classical allusion. the following is from swift's "description of a city shower": "boxed in a chair the beau impatient sits, while spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits, and ever and anon with frightful din the leather sounds; he trembles from within. so when troy chairmen bore the wooden steed pregnant with greeks impatient to be freed, (those bully greeks, who, as the moderns do, instead of paying chairmen, run them through); laocoon struck the outside with a spear, and each imprisoned champion quaked with fear." king priam lived to see the downfall of his kingdom and was slain at last on the fatal night when the greeks took the city. he had armed himself and was about to mingle with the combatants, but was prevailed on by hecuba, his aged queen, to take refuge with herself and his daughters as a suppliant at the altar of jupiter. while there, his youngest son polites, pursued by pyrrhus, the son of achilles, rushed in wounded, and expired at the feet of his father; whereupon priam, overcome with indignation, hurled his spear with feeble hand against pyrrhus, [footnote : pyrrhus's exclamation, "not such aid nor such defenders does the time require," has become proverbial. see proverbial expressions.] and was forthwith slain by him. queen hecuba and her daughter cassandra were carried captives to greece. cassandra had been loved by apollo, and he gave her the gift of prophecy; but afterwards offended with her, he rendered the gift unavailing by ordaining that her predictions should never be believed. polyxena, another daughter, who had been loved by achilles, was demanded by the ghost of that warrior, and was sacrificed by the greeks upon his tomb. menelaus and helen our readers will be anxious to know the fate of helen, the fair but guilty occasion of so much slaughter. on the fall of troy menelaus recovered possession of his wife, who had not ceased to love him, though she had yielded to the might of venus and deserted him for another. after the death of paris she aided the greeks secretly on several occasions, and in particular when ulysses and diomed entered the city in disguise to carry off the palladium. she saw and recognized ulysses, but kept the secret and even assisted them in obtaining the image. thus she became reconciled to her husband, and they were among the first to leave the shores of troy for their native land. but having incurred the displeasure of the gods they were driven by storms from shore to shore of the mediterranean, visiting cyprus, phoenicia, and egypt. in egypt they were kindly treated and presented with rich gifts, of which helen's share was a golden spindle and a basket on wheels. the basket was to hold the wool and spools for the queen's work. dyer, in his poem of the "fleece," thus alludes to this incident: "... many yet adhere to the ancient distaff, at the bosom fixed, casting the whirling spindle as they walk. this was of old, in no inglorious days, the mode of spinning, when the egyptian prince a golden distaff gave that beauteous nymph, too beauteous helen; no uncourtly gift." milton also alludes to a famous recipe for an invigorating draught, called nepenthe, which the egyptian queen gave to helen: "not that nepenthes which the wife of thone in egypt gave to jove-born helena, is of such power to stir up joy as this, to life so friendly or so cool to thirst." --comus. menelaus and helen at length arrived in safety at sparta, resumed their royal dignity, and lived and reigned in splendor; and when telemachus, the son of ulysses, in search of his father, arrived at sparta, he found menelaus and helen celebrating the marriage of their daughter hermione to neoptolemus, son of achilles. agamemnon, orestes, and electra agamemnon, the general-in-chief of the greeks, the brother of menelaus, and who had been drawn into the quarrel to avenge his brother's wrongs, not his own, was not so fortunate in the issue. during his absence his wife clytemnestra had been false to him, and when his return was expected, she with her paramour, aegisthus, laid a plan for his destruction, and at the banquet given to celebrate his return, murdered him. it was intended by the conspirators to slay his son orestes also, a lad not yet old enough to be an object of apprehension, but from whom, if he should be suffered to grow up, there might be danger. electra, the sister of orestes, saved her brother's life by sending him secretly away to his uncle strophius, king of phocis. in the palace of strophius orestes grew up with the king's son pylades, and formed with him that ardent friendship which has become proverbial. electra frequently reminded her brother by messengers of the duty of avenging his father's death, and when grown up he consulted the oracle of delphi, which confirmed him in his design. he therefore repaired in disguise to argos, pretending to be a messenger from strophius, who had come to announce the death of orestes, and brought the ashes of the deceased in a funeral urn. after visiting his father's tomb and sacrificing upon it, according to the rites of the ancients, he made himself known to his sister electra, and soon after slew both aegisthus and clytemnestra. this revolting act, the slaughter of a mother by her son, though alleviated by the guilt of the victim and the express command of the gods, did not fail to awaken in the breasts of the ancients the same abhorrence that it does in ours. the eumenides, avenging deities, seized upon orestes, and drove him frantic from land to land. pylades accompanied him in his wanderings and watched over him. at length, in answer to a second appeal to the oracle, he was directed to go to tauris in scythia, and to bring thence a statue of diana which was believed to have fallen from heaven. accordingly orestes and pylades went to tauris, where the barbarous people were accustomed to sacrifice to the goddess all strangers who fell into their hands. the two friends were seized and carried bound to the temple to be made victims. but the priestess of diana was no other than iphigenia, the sister of orestes, who, our readers will remember, was snatched away by diana at the moment when she was about to be sacrificed. ascertaining from the prisoners who they were, iphigenia disclosed herself to them, and the three made their escape with the statue of the goddess, and returned to mycenae. but orestes was not yet relieved from the vengeance of the erinyes. at length he took refuge with minerva at athens. the goddess afforded him protection, and appointed the court of areopagus to decide his fate. the erinyes brought forward their accusation, and orestes made the command of the delphic oracle his excuse. when the court voted and the voices were equally divided, orestes was acquitted by the command of minerva. byron, in "childe harold," canto iv., alludes to the story of orestes: "o thou who never yet of human wrong left the unbalanced scale, great nemesis! thou who didst call the furies from the abyss, and round orestes bade them howl and hiss, for that unnatural retribution,--just, had it but been from hands less near,--in this, thy former realm, i call thee from the dust!" one of the most pathetic scenes in the ancient drama is that in which sophocles represents the meeting of orestes and electra, on his return from phocis. orestes, mistaking electra for one of the domestics, and desirous of keeping his arrival a secret till the hour of vengeance should arrive, produces the urn in which his ashes are supposed to rest. electra, believing him to be really dead, takes the urn and, embracing it, pours forth her grief in language full of tenderness and despair. milton, in one of his sonnets, says: "... the repeated air of sad electra's poet had the power to save the athenian walls from ruin bare." this alludes to the story that when, on one occasion, the city of athens was at the mercy of her spartan foes, and it was proposed to destroy it, the thought was rejected upon the accidental quotation, by some one, of a chorus of euripides. troy the facts relating to the city of troy are still unknown to history. antiquarians have long sought for the actual city and some record of its rulers. the most interesting explorations were those conducted about by the german scholar, henry schliemann, who believed that at the mound of hissarlik, the traditional site of troy, he had uncovered the ancient capital. schliemann excavated down below the ruins of three or four settlements, each revealing an earlier civilization, and finally came upon some royal jewels and other relics said to be "priam's treasure." scholars are by no means agreed as to the historic value of these discoveries. chapter xxix adventures of ulysses--the lotus-eaters--cyclopes--circe--sirens --scylla and charybdis--calypso return of ulysses the romantic poem of the odyssey is now to engage our attention. it narrates the wanderings of ulysses (odysseus in the greek language) in his return from troy to his own kingdom ithaca. from troy the vessels first made land at ismarus, city of the ciconians, where, in a skirmish with the inhabitants, ulysses lost six men from each ship. sailing thence, they were overtaken by a storm which drove them for nine days along the sea till they reached the country of the lotus-eaters. here, after watering, ulysses sent three of his men to discover who the inhabitants were. these men on coming among the lotus-eaters were kindly entertained by them, and were given some of their own food, the lotus-plant, to eat. the effect of this food was such that those who partook of it lost all thoughts of home and wished to remain in that country. it was by main force that ulysses dragged these men away, and he was even obliged to tie them under the benches of the ships. [footnote: tennyson in the "lotus-eaters" has charmingly expressed the dreamy, languid feeling which the lotus food is said to have produced. "how sweet it were, hearing the downward stream with half-shut eyes ever to seem falling asleep in a half dream! to dream and dream, like yonder amber light which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height; to hear each others' whispered speech; eating the lotos, day by day, to watch the crisping ripples on the beach, and tender curving lines of creamy spray: to lend our hearts and spirits wholly to the influence of mild-minded melancholy; to muse and brood and live again in memory, with those old faces of our infancy heaped over with a mound of grass, two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass."] they next arrived at the country of the cyclopes. the cyclopes were giants, who inhabited an island of which they were the only possessors. the name means "round eye," and these giants were so called because they had but one eye, and that placed in the middle of the forehead. they dwelt in caves and fed on the wild productions of the island and on what their flocks yielded, for they were shepherds. ulysses left the main body of his ships at anchor, and with one vessel went to the cyclopes' island to explore for supplies. he landed with his companions, carrying with them a jar of wine for a present, and coming to a large cave they entered it, and finding no one within examined its contents. they found it stored with the richest of the flock, quantities of cheese, pails and bowls of milk, lambs and kids in their pens, all in nice order. presently arrived the master of the cave, polyphemus, bearing an immense bundle of firewood, which he threw down before the cavern's mouth. he then drove into the cave the sheep and goats to be milked, and, entering, rolled to the cave's mouth an enormous rock, that twenty oxen could not draw. next he sat down and milked his ewes, preparing a part for cheese, and setting the rest aside for his customary drink. then, turning round his great eye, he discerned the strangers, and growled out to them, demanding who they were, and where from. ulysses replied most humbly, stating that they were greeks, from the great expedition that had lately won so much glory in the conquest of troy; that they were now on their way home, and finished by imploring his hospitality in the name of the gods. polyphemus deigned no answer, but reaching out his hand seized two of the greeks, whom he hurled against the side of the cave, and dashed out their brains. he proceeded to devour them with great relish, and having made a hearty meal, stretched himself out on the floor to sleep. ulysses was tempted to seize the opportunity and plunge his sword into him as he slept, but recollected that it would only expose them all to certain destruction, as the rock with which the giant had closed up the door was far beyond their power to remove, and they would therefore be in hopeless imprisonment. next morning the giant seized two more of the greeks, and despatched them in the same manner as their companions, feasting on their flesh till no fragment was left. he then moved away the rock from the door, drove out his flocks, and went out, carefully replacing the barrier after him. when he was gone ulysses planned how he might take vengeance for his murdered friends, and effect his escape with his surviving companions. he made his men prepare a massive bar of wood cut by the cyclops for a staff, which they found in the cave. they sharpened the end of it, and seasoned it in the fire, and hid it under the straw on the cavern floor. then four of the boldest were selected, with whom ulysses joined himself as a fifth. the cyclops came home at evening, rolled away the stone and drove in his flock as usual. after milking them and making his arrangements as before, he seized two more of ulysses' companions and dashed their brains out, and made his evening meal upon them as he had on the others. after he had supped, ulysses approaching him handed him a bowl of wine, saying, "cyclops, this is wine; taste and drink after thy meal of men's flesh." he took and drank it, and was hugely delighted with it, and called for more. ulysses supplied him once again, which pleased the giant so much that he promised him as a favor that he should be the last of the party devoured. he asked his name, to which ulysses replied, "my name is noman." after his supper the giant lay down to repose, and was soon sound asleep. then ulysses with his four select friends thrust the end of the stake into the fire till it was all one burning coal, then poising it exactly above the giant's only eye, they buried it deeply into the socket, twirling it round as a carpenter does his auger. the howling monster with his outcry filled the cavern, and ulysses with his aids nimbly got out of his way and concealed themselves in the cave. he, bellowing, called aloud on all the cyclopes dwelling in the caves around him, far and near. they on his cry flocked round the den, and inquired what grievous hurt had caused him to sound such an alarm and break their slumbers. he replied, "o friends, i die, and noman gives the blow." they answered, "if no man hurts thee it is the stroke of jove, and thou must bear it." so saying, they left him groaning. next morning the cyclops rolled away the stone to let his flock out to pasture, but planted himself in the door of the cave to feel of all as they went out, that ulysses and his men should not escape with them. but ulysses had made his men harness the rams of the flock three abreast, with osiers which they found on the floor of the cave. to the middle ram of the three one of the greeks suspended himself, so protected by the exterior rams on either side. as they passed, the giant felt of the animals' backs and sides, but never thought of their bellies; so the men all passed safe, ulysses himself being on the last one that passed. when they had got a few paces from the cavern, ulysses and his friends released themselves from their rams, and drove a good part of the flock down to the shore to their boat. they put them aboard with all haste, then pushed off from the shore, and when at a safe distance ulysses shouted out, "cyclops, the gods have well requited thee for thy atrocious deeds. know it is ulysses to whom thou owest thy shameful loss of sight." the cyclops, hearing this, seized a rock that projected from the side of the mountain, and rending it from its bed, he lifted it high in the air, then exerting all his force, hurled it in the direction of the voice. down came the mass, just clearing the vessel's stern. the ocean, at the plunge of the huge rock, heaved the ship towards the land, so that it barely escaped being swamped by the waves. when they had with the utmost difficulty pulled off shore, ulysses was about to hail the giant again, but his friends besought him not to do so. he could not forbear, however, letting the giant know that they had escaped his missile, but waited till they had reached a safer distance than before. the giant answered them with curses, but ulysses and his friends plied their oars vigorously, and soon regained their companions. ulysses next arrived at the island of aeolus. to this monarch jupiter had intrusted the government of the winds, to send them forth or retain them at his will. he treated ulysses hospitably, and at his departure gave him, tied up in a leathern bag, with a silver string, such winds as might be hurtful and dangerous, commanding fair winds to blow the barks towards their country. nine days they sped before the wind, and all that time ulysses had stood at the helm, without sleep. at last quite exhausted he lay down to sleep. while he slept, the crew conferred together about the mysterious bag, and concluded it must contain treasures given by the hospitable king aeolus to their commander. tempted to secure some portion for themselves, they loosed the string, when immediately the winds rushed forth. the ships were driven far from their course, and back again to the island they had just left. aeolus was so indignant at their folly that he refused to assist them further, and they were obliged to labor over their course once more by means of their oars. the laestrygonians their next adventure was with the barbarous tribe of laestrygonians. the vessels all pushed into the harbor, tempted by the secure appearance of the cove, completely land-locked; only ulysses moored his vessel without. as soon as the laestrygonians found the ships completely in their power they attacked them, heaving huge stones which broke and overturned them, and with their spears despatched the seamen as they struggled in the water. all the vessels with their crews were destroyed, except ulysses' own ship, which had remained outside, and finding no safety but in flight, he exhorted his men to ply their oars vigorously, and they escaped. with grief for their slain companions mixed with joy at their own escape, they pursued their way till they arrived at the aeaean isle, where circe dwelt, the daughter of the sun. landing here, ulysses climbed a hill, and gazing round saw no signs of habitation except in one spot at the centre of the island, where he perceived a palace embowered with trees. he sent forward one- half of his crew, under the command of eurylochus, to see what prospect of hospitality they might find. as they approached the palace, they found themselves surrounded by lions, tigers, and wolves, not fierce, but tamed by circe's art, for she was a powerful magician. all these animals had once been men, but had been changed by circe's enchantments into the forms of beasts. the sounds of soft music were heard from within, and a sweet female voice singing. eurylochus called aloud and the goddess came forth and invited them in; they all gladly entered except eurylochus, who suspected danger. the goddess conducted her guests to a seat, and had them served with wine and other delicacies. when they had feasted heartily, she touched them one by one with her wand, and they became immediately changed into swine, in "head, body, voice, and bristles," yet with their intellects as before. she shut them in her sties and supplied them with acorns and such other things as swine love. eurylochus hurried back to the ship and told the tale. ulysses thereupon determined to go himself, and try if by any means he might deliver his companions. as he strode onward alone, he met a youth who addressed him familiarly, appearing to be acquainted with his adventures. he announced himself as mercury, and informed ulysses of the arts of circe, and of the danger of approaching her. as ulysses was not to be dissuaded from his attempt, mercury provided him with a sprig of the plant moly, of wonderful power to resist sorceries, and instructed him how to act. ulysses proceeded, and reaching the palace was courteously received by circe, who entertained him as she had done his companions, and after he had eaten and drank, touched him with her wand, saying, "hence, seek the sty and wallow with thy friends." but he, instead of obeying, drew his sword and rushed upon her with fury in his countenance. she fell on her knees and begged for mercy. he dictated a solemn oath that she would release his companions and practise no further harm against him or them; and she repeated it, at the same time promising to dismiss them all in safety after hospitably entertaining them. she was as good as her word. the men were restored to their shapes, the rest of the crew summoned from the shore, and the whole magnificently entertained day after day, till ulysses seemed to have forgotten his native land, and to have reconciled himself to an inglorious life of ease and pleasure. at length his companions recalled him to nobler sentiments, and he received their admonition gratefully. circe aided their departure, and instructed them how to pass safely by the coast of the sirens. the sirens were sea-nymphs who had the power of charming by their song all who heard them, so that the unhappy mariners were irresistibly impelled to cast themselves into the sea to their destruction. circe directed ulysses to fill the ears of his seamen with wax, so that they should not hear the strain; and to cause himself to be bound to the mast, and his people to be strictly enjoined, whatever he might say or do, by no means to release him till they should have passed the sirens' island. ulysses obeyed these directions. he filled the ears of his people with wax, and suffered them to bind him with cords firmly to the mast. as they approached the sirens' island, the sea was calm, and over the waters came the notes of music so ravishing and attractive that ulysses struggled to get loose, and by cries and signs to his people begged to be released; but they, obedient to his previous orders, sprang forward and bound him still faster. they held on their course, and the music grew fainter till it ceased to be heard, when with joy ulysses gave his companions the signal to unseal their ears, and they relieved him from his bonds. the imagination of a modern poet, keats, has discovered for us the thoughts that passed through the brains of the victims of circe, after their transformation. in his "endymion" he represents one of them, a monarch in the guise of an elephant, addressing the sorceress in human language, thus: "i sue not for my happy crown again; i sue not for my phalanx on the plain; i sue not for my lone, my widowed wife; i sue not for my ruddy drops of life, my children fair, my lovely girls and boys; i will forget them; i will pass these joys, ask nought so heavenward; so too--too high; only i pray, as fairest boon, to die; to be delivered from this cumbrous flesh, from this gross, detestable, filthy mesh, and merely given to the cold, bleak air. have mercy, goddess! circe, feel my prayer!" scylla and charybdis ulysses had been warned by circe of the two monsters scylla and charybdis. we have already met with scylla in the story of glaucus, and remember that she was once a beautiful maiden and was changed into a snaky monster by circe. she dwelt in a cave high up on the cliff, from whence she was accustomed to thrust forth her long necks (for she had six heads), and in each of her mouths to seize one of the crew of every vessel passing within reach. the other terror, charybdis, was a gulf, nearly on a level with the water. thrice each day the water rushed into a frightful chasm, and thrice was disgorged. any vessel coming near the whirlpool when the tide was rushing in must inevitably be ingulfed; not neptune himself could save it. on approaching the haunt of the dread monsters, ulysses kept strict watch to discover them. the roar of the waters as charybdis ingulfed them, gave warning at a distance, but scylla could nowhere be discerned. while ulysses and his men watched with anxious eyes the dreadful whirlpool, they were not equally on their guard from the attack of scylla, and the monster, darting forth her snaky heads, caught six of his men, and bore them away, shrieking, to her den. it was the saddest sight ulysses had yet seen; to behold his friends thus sacrificed and hear their cries, unable to afford them any assistance. circe had warned him of another danger. after passing scylla and charybdis the next land he would make was thrinakia, an island whereon were pastured the cattle of hyperion, the sun, tended by his daughters lampetia and phaethusa. these flocks must not be violated, whatever the wants of the voyagers might be. if this injunction were transgressed destruction was sure to fall on the offenders. ulysses would willingly have passed the island of the sun without stopping, but his companions so urgently pleaded for the rest and refreshment that would be derived from anchoring and passing the night on shore, that ulysses yielded. he bound them, however, with an oath that they would not touch one of the animals of the sacred flocks and herds, but content themselves with what provision they yet had left of the supply which circe had put on board. so long as this supply lasted the people kept their oath, but contrary winds detained them at the island for a month, and after consuming all their stock of provisions, they were forced to rely upon the birds and fishes they could catch. famine pressed them, and at length one day, in the absence of ulysses, they slew some of the cattle, vainly attempting to make amends for the deed by offering from them a portion to the offended powers. ulysses, on his return to the shore, was horror-struck at perceiving what they had done, and the more so on account of the portentous signs which followed. the skins crept on the ground, and the joints of meat lowed on the spits while roasting. the wind becoming fair they sailed from the island. they had not gone far when the weather changed, and a storm of thunder and lightning ensued. a stroke of lightning shattered their mast, which in its fall killed the pilot. at last the vessel itself came to pieces. the keel and mast floating side by side, ulysses formed of them a raft, to which he clung, and, the wind changing, the waves bore him to calypso's island. all the rest of the crew perished. the following allusion to the topics we have just been considering is from milton's "comus," line : "... i have often heard my mother circe and the sirens three, amidst the flowery-kirtled naiades, culling their potent herbs and baneful drugs, who as they sung would take the prisoned soul and lap it in elysium. scylla wept, and chid her barking waves into attention, and fell charybdis murmured soft applause." scylla and charybdis have become proverbial, to denote opposite dangers which beset one's course. see proverbial expressions. calypso calypso was a sea-nymph, which name denotes a numerous class of female divinities of lower rank, yet sharing many of the attributes of the gods. calypso received ulysses hospitably, entertained him magnificently, became enamoured of him, and wished to retain him forever, conferring on him immortality. but he persisted in his resolution to return to his country and his wife and son. calypso at last received the command of jove to dismiss him. mercury brought the message to her, and found her in her grotto, which is thus described by homer: "a garden vine, luxuriant on all sides, mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph, their sinuous course pursuing side by side, strayed all around, and everywhere appeared meadows of softest verdure, purpled o'er with violets; it was a scene to fill a god from heaven with wonder and delight." calypso with much reluctance proceeded to obey the commands of jupiter. she supplied ulysses with the means of constructing a raft, provisioned it well for him, and gave him a favoring gale. he sped on his course prosperously for many days, till at length, when in sight of land, a storm arose that broke his mast, and threatened to rend the raft asunder. in this crisis he was seen by a compassionate sea-nymph, who in the form of a cormorant alighted on the raft, and presented him a girdle, directing him to bind it beneath his breast, and if he should be compelled to trust himself to the waves, it would buoy him up and enable him by swimming to reach the land. fenelon, in his romance of "telemachus," has given us the adventures of the son of ulysses in search of his father. among other places at which he arrived, following on his father's footsteps, was calypso's isle, and, as in the former case, the goddess tried every art to keep him with her, and offered to share her immortality with him. but minerva, who in the shape of mentor accompanied him and governed all his movements, made him repel her allurements, and when no other means of escape could be found, the two friends leaped from a cliff into the sea, and swam to a vessel which lay becalmed off shore. byron alludes to this leap of telemachus and mentor in the following stanza: "but not in silence pass calypso's isles, the sister tenants of the middle deep; there for the weary still a haven smiles, though the fair goddess long has ceased to weep, and o'er her cliffs a fruitless watch to keep for him who dared prefer a mortal bride. here too his boy essayed the dreadful leap, stern mentor urged from high to yonder tide; while thus of both bereft the nymph-queen doubly sighed." chapter xxx the phaeacians--fate of the suitors the phaeacians ulysses clung to the raft while any of its timbers kept together, and when it no longer yielded him support, binding the girdle around him, he swam. minerva smoothed the billows before him and sent him a wind that rolled the waves towards the shore. the surf beat high on the rocks and seemed to forbid approach; but at length finding calm water at the mouth of a gentle stream, he landed, spent with toil, breathless and speechless and almost dead. after some time, reviving, he kissed the soil, rejoicing, yet at a loss what course to take. at a short distance he perceived a wood, to which he turned his steps. there, finding a covert sheltered by intermingling branches alike from the sun and the rain, he collected a pile of leaves and formed a bed, on which he stretched himself, and heaping the leaves over him, fell asleep. the land where he was thrown was scheria, the country of the phaeacians. these people dwelt originally near the cyclopes; but being oppressed by that savage race, they migrated to the isle of scheria, under the conduct of nausithous, their king. they were, the poet tells us, a people akin to the gods, who appeared manifestly and feasted among them when they offered sacrifices, and did not conceal themselves from solitary wayfarers when they met them. they had abundance of wealth and lived in the enjoyment of it undisturbed by the alarms of war, for as they dwelt remote from gain-seeking man, no enemy ever approached their shores, and they did not even require to make use of bows and quivers. their chief employment was navigation. their ships, which went with the velocity of birds, were endued with intelligence; they knew every port and needed no pilot. alcinous, the son of nausithous, was now their king, a wise and just sovereign, beloved by his people. now it happened that the very night on which ulysses was cast ashore on the phaeacian island, and while he lay sleeping on his bed of leaves, nausicaa, the daughter of the king, had a dream sent by minerva, reminding her that her wedding-day was not far distant, and that it would be but a prudent preparation for that event to have a general washing of the clothes of the family. this was no slight affair, for the fountains were at some distance, and the garments must be carried thither. on awaking, the princess hastened to her parents to tell them what was on her mind; not alluding to her wedding-day, but finding other reasons equally good. her father readily assented and ordered the grooms to furnish forth a wagon for the purpose. the clothes were put therein, and the queen mother placed in the wagon, likewise, an abundant supply of food and wine. the princess took her seat and plied the lash, her attendant virgins following her on foot. arrived at the river side, they turned out the mules to graze, and unlading the carriage, bore the garments down to the water, and working with cheerfulness and alacrity soon despatched their labor. then having spread the garments on the shore to dry, and having themselves bathed, they sat down to enjoy their meal; after which they rose and amused themselves with a game of ball, the princess singing to them while they played. but when they had refolded the apparel and were about to resume their way to the town, minerva caused the ball thrown by the princess to fall into the water, whereat they all screamed and ulysses awaked at the sound. now we must picture to ourselves ulysses, a ship-wrecked mariner, but a few hours escaped from the waves, and utterly destitute of clothing, awaking and discovering that only a few bushes were interposed tween him and a group of young maidens whom, by their deportment and attire, he discovered to be not mere peasant girls, but of a higher class. sadly needing help, how could he yet venture, naked as he was, to discover himself and make his wants known? it certainly was a case worthy of the interposition of his patron goddess minerva, who never failed him at a crisis. breaking off a leafy branch from a tree, he held it before him and stepped out from the thicket. the virgins at sight of him fled in all directions, nausicaa alone excepted, for her minerva aided and endowed with courage and discernment. ulysses, standing respectfully aloof, told his sad case, and besought the fair object (whether queen or goddess he professed he knew not) for food and clothing. the princess replied courteously, promising present relief and her father's hospitality when he should become acquainted with the facts. she called back her scattered maidens, chiding their alarm, and reminding them that the phaeacians had no enemies to fear. this man, she told them, was an unhappy wanderer, whom it was a duty to cherish, for the poor and stranger are from jove. she bade them bring food and clothing, for some of her brother's garments were among the contents of the wagon. when this was done, and ulysses, retiring to a sheltered place, had washed his body free from the sea-foam, clothed and refreshed himself with food, pallas dilated his form and diffused grace over his ample chest and manly brows. the princess, seeing him, was filled with admiration, and scrupled not to say to her damsels that she wished the gods would send her such a husband. to ulysses she recommended that he should repair to the city, following herself and train so far as the way lay through the fields; but when they should approach the city she desired that he would no longer be seen in her company, for she feared the remarks which rude and vulgar people might make on seeing her return accompanied by such a gallant stranger. to avoid which she directed him to stop at a grove adjoining the city, in which were a farm and garden belonging to the king. after allowing time for the princess and her companions to reach the city, he was then to pursue his way thither, and would be easily guided by any he might meet to the royal abode. ulysses obeyed the directions and in due time proceeded to the city, on approaching which he met a young woman bearing a pitcher forth for water. it was minerva, who had assumed that form. ulysses accosted her and desired to be directed to the palace of alcinous the king. the maiden replied respectfully, offering to be his guide; for the palace, she informed him, stood near her father's dwelling. under the guidance of the goddess, and by her power enveloped in a cloud which shielded him from observation, ulysses passed among the busy crowd, and with wonder observed their harbor, their ships, their forum (the resort of heroes), and their battlements, till they came to the palace, where the goddess, having first given him some information of the country, king, and people he was about to meet, left him. ulysses, before entering the courtyard of the palace, stood and surveyed the scene. its splendor astonished him. brazen walls stretched from the entrance to the interior house, of which the doors were gold, the doorposts silver, the lintels silver ornamented with gold. on either side were figures of mastiffs wrought in gold and silver, standing in rows as if to guard the approach. along the walls were seats spread through all their length with mantles of finest texture, the work of phaeacian maidens. on these seats the princes sat and feasted, while golden statues of graceful youths held in their hands lighted torches which shed radiance over the scene. full fifty female menials served in household offices, some employed to grind the corn, others to wind off the purple wool or ply the loom. for the phaeacian women as far exceeded all other women in household arts as the mariners of that country did the rest of mankind in the management of ships. without the court a spacious garden lay, four acres in extent. in it grew many a lofty tree, pomegranate, pear, apple, fig, and olive. neither winter's cold nor summer's drought arrested their growth, but they flourished in constant succession, some budding while others were maturing. the vineyard was equally prolific. in one quarter you might see the vines, some in blossom, some loaded with ripe grapes, and in another observe the vintagers treading the wine press. on the garden's borders flowers of all hues bloomed all the year round, arranged with neatest art. in the midst two fountains poured forth their waters, one flowing by artificial channels over all the garden, the other conducted through the courtyard of the palace, whence every citizen might draw his supplies. ulysses stood gazing in admiration, unobserved himself, for the cloud which minerva spread around him still shielded him. at length, having sufficiently observed the scene, he advanced with rapid step into the hall where the chiefs and senators were assembled, pouring libation to mercury, whose worship followed the evening meal. just then minerva dissolved the cloud and disclosed him to the assembled chiefs. advancing to the place where the queen sat, he knelt at her feet and implored her favor and assistance to enable him to return to his native country. then withdrawing, he seated himself in the manner of suppliants, at the hearth side. for a time none spoke. at last an aged statesman, addressing the king, said, "it is not fit that a stranger who asks our hospitality should be kept waiting in suppliant guise, none welcoming him. let him therefore be led to a seat among us and supplied with food and wine." at these words the king rising gave his hand to ulysses and led him to a seat, displacing thence his own son to make room for the stranger. food and wine were set before him and he ate and refreshed himself. the king then dismissed his guests, notifying them that the next day he would call them to council to consider what had best be done for the stranger. when the guests had departed and ulysses was left alone with the king and queen, the queen asked him who he was and whence he came, and (recognizing the clothes which he wore as those which her maidens and herself had made) from whom he received those garments. he told them of his residence in calypso's isle and his departure thence; of the wreck of his raft, his escape by swimming, and of the relief afforded by the princess. the parents heard approvingly, and the king promised to furnish a ship in which his guest might return to his own land. the next day the assembled chiefs confirmed the promise of the king. a bark was prepared and a crew of stout rowers selected, and all betook themselves to the palace, where a bounteous repast was provided. after the feast the king proposed that the young men should show their guest their proficiency in manly sports, and all went forth to the arena for games of running, wrestling, and other exercises. after all had done their best, ulysses being challenged to show what he could do, at first declined, but being taunted by one of the youths, seized a quoit of weight far heavier than any of the phaeacians had thrown, and sent it farther than the utmost throw of theirs. all were astonished, and viewed their guest with greatly increased respect. after the games they returned to the hall, and the herald led in demodocus, the blind bard,-- "... dear to the muse, who yet appointed him both good and ill, took from him sight, but gave him strains divine." he took for his theme the "wooden horse," by means of which the greeks found entrance into troy. apollo inspired him, and he sang so feelingly the terrors and the exploits of that eventful time that all were delighted, but ulysses was moved to tears. observing which, alcinous, when the song was done, demanded of him why at the mention of troy his sorrows awaked. had he lost there a father, or brother, or any dear friend? ulysses replied by announcing himself by his true name, and at their request, recounted the adventures which had befallen him since his departure from troy. this narrative raised the sympathy and admiration of the phaeacians for their guest to the highest pitch. the king proposed that all the chiefs should present him with a gift, himself setting the example. they obeyed, and vied with one another in loading the illustrious stranger with costly gifts. the next day ulysses set sail in the phaeacian vessel, and in a short time arrived safe at ithaca, his own island. when the vessel touched the strand he was asleep. the mariners, without waking him, carried him on shore, and landed with him the chest containing his presents, and then sailed away. neptune was so displeased at the conduct of the phaeacians in thus rescuing ulysses from his hands that on the return of the vessel to port he transformed it into a rock, right opposite the mouth of the harbor. homer's description of the ships of the phaeacians has been thought to look like an anticipation of the wonders of modern steam navigation. alcinous says to ulysses: "say from what city, from what regions tossed, and what inhabitants those regions boast? so shalt thou quickly reach the realm assigned, in wondrous ships, self-moved, instinct with mind; no helm secures their course, no pilot guides; like man intelligent they plough the tides, conscious of every coast and every bay that lies beneath the sun's all-seeing ray." --odyssey, book viii. lord carlisle, in his "diary in the turkish and greek waters," thus speaks of corfu, which he considers to be the ancient phaeacian island: "the sites explain the 'odyssey.' the temple of the sea-god could not have been more fitly placed, upon a grassy platform of the most elastic turf, on the brow of a crag commanding harbor, and channel, and ocean. just at the entrance of the inner harbor there is a picturesque rock with a small convent perched upon it, which by one legend is the transformed pinnace of ulysses. "almost the only river in the island is just at the proper distance from the probable site of the city and palace of the king, to justify the princess nausicaa having had resort to her chariot and to luncheon when she went with the maidens of the court to wash their garments." fate of the suitors ulysses had now been away from ithaca for twenty years, and when he awoke he did not recognize his native land. minerva appeared to him in the form of a young shepherd, informed him where he was, and told him the state of things at his palace. more than a hundred nobles of ithaca and of the neighboring islands had been for years suing for the hand of penelope, his wife, imagining him dead, and lording it over his palace and people, as if they were owners of both. that he might be able to take vengeance upon them, it was important that he should not be recognized. minerva accordingly metamorphosed him into an unsightly beggar, and as such he was kindly received by eumaeus, the swine-herd, a faithful servant of his house. telemachus, his son, was absent in quest of his father. he had gone to the courts of the other kings, who had returned from the trojan expedition. while on the search, he received counsel from minerva to return home. he arrived and sought eumaeus to learn something of the state of affairs at the palace before presenting himself among the suitors. finding a stranger with eumaeus, he treated him courteously, though in the garb of a beggar, and promised him assistance. eumaeus was sent to the palace to inform penelope privately of her son's arrival, for caution was necessary with regard to the suitors, who, as telemachus had learned, were plotting to intercept and kill him. when eumaeus was gone, minerva presented herself to ulysses, and directed him to make himself known to his son. at the same time she touched him, removed at once from him the appearance of age and penury, and gave him the aspect of vigorous manhood that belonged to him. telemachus viewed him with astonishment, and at first thought he must be more than mortal. but ulysses announced himself as his father, and accounted for the change of appearance by explaining that it was minerva's doing. "... then threw telemachus his arms around his father's neck and wept. desire intense of lamentation seized on both; soft murmurs uttering, each indulged his grief." the father and son took counsel together how they should get the better of the suitors and punish them for their outrages. it was arranged that telemachus should proceed to the palace and mingle with the suitors as formerly; that ulysses should also go as a beggar, a character which in the rude old times had different privileges from what we concede to it now. as traveller and storyteller, the beggar was admitted in the halls of chieftains, and often treated like a guest; though sometimes, also, no doubt, with contumely. ulysses charged his son not to betray, by any display of unusual interest in him, that he knew him to be other than he seemed, and even if he saw him insulted, or beaten, not to interpose otherwise than he might do for any stranger. at the palace they found the usual scene of feasting and riot going on. the suitors pretended to receive telemachus with joy at his return, though secretly mortified at the failure of their plots to take his life. the old beggar was permitted to enter, and provided with a portion from the table. a touching incident occurred as ulysses entered the courtyard of the palace. an old dog lay in the yard almost dead with age, and seeing a stranger enter, raised his head, with ears erect. it was argus, ulysses' own dog, that he had in other days often led to the chase. "... soon as he perceived long-lost ulysses nigh, down fell his ears clapped close, and with his tail glad sign he gave of gratulation, impotent to rise, and to approach his master as of old. ulysses, noting him, wiped off a tear unmarked. ... then his destiny released old argus, soon as he had lived to see ulysses in the twentieth year restored." as ulysses sat eating his portion in the hall, the suitors began to exhibit their insolence to him. when he mildly remonstrated, one of them, raised a stool and with it gave him a blow. telemachus had hard work to restrain his indignation at seeing his father so treated in his own hall, but remembering his father's injunctions, said no more than what became him as master of the house, though young, and protector of his guests. penelope had protracted her decision in favor of either of her suitors so long that there seemed to be no further pretence for delay. the continued absence of her husband seemed to prove that his return was no longer to be expected. meanwhile, her son had grown up, and was able to manage his own affairs. she therefore consented to submit the question of her choice to a trial of skill among the suitors. the test selected was shooting with the bow. twelve rings were arranged in a line, and he whose arrow was sent through the whole twelve was to have the queen for his prize. a bow that one of his brother heroes had given to ulysses in former times was brought from the armory, and with its quiver full of arrows was laid in the hall. telemachus had taken care that all other weapons should be removed, under pretence that in the heat of competition there was danger, in some rash moment, of putting them to an improper use. all things being prepared for the trial, the first thing to be done was to bend the bow in order to attach the string. telemachus endeavored to do it, but found all his efforts fruitless; and modestly confessing that he had attempted a task beyond his strength, he yielded the bow to another. he tried it with no better success, and, amidst the laughter and jeers of his companions, gave it up. another tried it and another; they rubbed the bow with tallow, but all to no purpose; it would not bend. then spoke ulysses, humbly suggesting that he should be permitted to try; for, said he, "beggar as i am, i was once a soldier, and there is still some strength in these old limbs of mine." the suitors hooted with derision, and commanded to turn him out of the hall for his insolence. but telemachus spoke up for him, and, merely to gratify the old man, bade him try. ulysses took the bow, and handled it with the hand of a master. with ease he adjusted the cord to its notch, then fitting an arrow to the bow he drew the string and sped the arrow unerring through the rings. without allowing them time to express their astonishment, he said, "now for another mark!" and aimed direct at the most insolent one of the suitors. the arrow pierced through his throat and he fell dead. telemachus, eumaeus, and another faithful follower, well armed, now sprang to the side of ulysses. the suitors, in amazement, looked round for arms, but found none, neither was there any way of escape, for eumaeus had secured the door. ulysses left them not long in uncertainty; he announced himself as the long-lost chief, whose house they had invaded, whose substance they had squandered, whose wife and son they had persecuted for ten long years; and told them he meant to have ample vengeance. all were slain, and ulysses was left master of his palace and possessor of his kingdom and his wife. tennyson's poem of "ulysses" represents the old hero, after his dangers past and nothing left but to stay at home and be happy, growing tired of inaction and resolving to set forth again in quest of new adventures. "... come, my friends, 'tis not too late to seek a newer world. push off, and sitting well in order smite the sounding furrows; for my purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset, and the baths of all the western stars, until i die. it may be that the gulfs will wash us down; it may be we shall touch the happy isles, and see the great achilles whom we knew;" etc. chapter xxxi adventures of aeneas--the harpies--dido--palinurus adventures of aeneas we have followed one of the grecian heroes, ulysses, in his wanderings on his return home from troy, and now we propose to share the fortunes of the remnant of the conquered people, under their chief aeneas, in their search for a new home, after the ruin of their native city. on that fatal night when the wooden horse disgorged its contents of armed men, and the capture and conflagration of the city were the result, aeneas made his escape from the scene of destruction, with his father, and his wife, and young son. the father, anchises, was too old to walk with the speed required, and aeneas took him upon his shoulders. thus burdened, leading his son and followed by his wife, he made the best of his way out of the burning city; but, in the confusion, his wife was swept away and lost. on arriving at the place of rendezvous, numerous fugitives, of both sexes, were found, who put themselves under the guidance of aeneas. some months were spent in preparation, and at length they embarked. they first landed on the neighboring shores of thrace, and were preparing to build a city, but aeneas was deterred by a prodigy. preparing to offer sacrifice, he tore some twigs from one of the bushes. to his dismay the wounded part dropped blood. when he repeated the act a voice from the ground cried out to him, "spare me, aeneas; i am your kinsman, polydore, here murdered with many arrows, from which a bush has grown, nourished with my blood." these words recalled to the recollection of aeneas that polydore was a young prince of troy, whom his father had sent with ample treasures to the neighboring land of thrace, to be there brought up, at a distance from the horrors of war. the king to whom he was sent had murdered him and seized his treasures. aeneas and his companions, considering the land accursed by the stain of such a crime, hastened away. they next landed on the island of delos, which was once a floating island, till jupiter fastened it by adamantine chains to the bottom of the sea. apollo and diana were born there, and the island was sacred to apollo. here aeneas consulted the oracle of apollo, and received an answer, ambiguous as usual,--"seek your ancient mother; there the race of aeneas shall dwell, and reduce all other nations to their sway." the trojans heard with joy and immediately began to ask one another, "where is the spot intended by the oracle?" anchises remembered that there was a tradition that their forefathers came from crete and thither they resolved to steer. they arrived at crete and began to build their city, but sickness broke out among them, and the fields that they had planted failed to yield a crop. in this gloomy aspect of affairs aeneas was warned in a dream to leave the country and seek a western land, called hesperia, whence dardanus, the true founder of the trojan race, had originally migrated. to hesperia, now called italy, therefore, they directed their future course, and not till after many adventures and the lapse of time sufficient to carry a modern navigator several times round the world, did they arrive there. their first landing was at the island of the harpies. these were disgusting birds with the heads of maidens, with long claws and faces pale with hunger. they were sent by the gods to torment a certain phineus, whom jupiter had deprived of his sight, in punishment of his cruelty; and whenever a meal was placed before him the harpies darted down from the air and carried it off. they were driven away from phineus by the heroes of the argonautic expedition, and took refuge in the island where aeneas now found them. when they entered the port the trojans saw herds of cattle roaming over the plain. they slew as many as they wished and prepared for a feast. but no sooner had they seated themselves at the table than a horrible clamor was heard in the air, and a flock of these odious harpies came rushing down upon them, seizing in their talons the meat from the dishes and flying away with it. aeneas and his companions drew their swords and dealt vigorous blows among the monsters, but to no purpose, for they were so nimble it was almost impossible to hit them, and their feathers were like armor impenetrable to steel. one of them, perched on a neighboring cliff, screamed out, "is it thus, trojans, you treat us innocent birds, first slaughter our cattle and then make war on ourselves?" she then predicted dire sufferings to them in their future course, and having vented her wrath flew away. the trojans made haste to leave the country, and next found themselves coasting along the shore of epirus. here they landed, and to their astonishment learned that certain trojan exiles, who had been carried there as prisoners, had become rulers of the country. andromache, the widow of hector, became the wife of one of the victorious grecian chiefs, to whom she bore a son. her husband dying, she was left regent of the country, as guardian of her son, and had married a fellow-captive, helenus, of the royal race of troy. helenus and andromache treated the exiles with the utmost hospitality, and dismissed them loaded with gifts. from hence aeneas coasted along the shore of sicily and passed the country of the cyclopes. here they were hailed from the shore by a miserable object, whom by his garments, tattered as they were, they perceived to be a greek. he told them he was one of ulysses's companions, left behind by that chief in his hurried departure. he related the story of ulysses's adventure with polyphemus, and besought them to take him off with them as he had no means of sustaining his existence where he was but wild berries and roots, and lived in constant fear of the cyclopes. while he spoke polyphemus made his appearance; a terrible monster, shapeless, vast, whose only eye had been put out. [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] he walked with cautious steps, feeling his way with a staff, down to the sea-side, to wash his eye-socket in the waves. when he reached the water, he waded out towards them, and his immense height enabled him to advance far into the sea, so that the trojans, in terror, took to their oars to get out of his way. hearing the oars, polyphemus shouted after them, so that the shores resounded, and at the noise the other cyclopes came forth from their caves and woods and lined the shore, like a row of lofty pine trees. the trojans plied their oars and soon left them out of sight. aeneas had been cautioned by helenus to avoid the strait guarded by the monsters scylla and charybdis. there ulysses, the reader will remember, had lost six of his men, seized by scylla while the navigators were wholly intent upon avoiding charybdis. aeneas, following the advice of helenus, shunned the dangerous pass and coasted along the island of sicily. juno, seeing the trojans speeding their way prosperously towards their destined shore, felt her old grudge against them revive, for she could not forget the slight that paris had put upon her, in awarding the prize of beauty to another. in heavenly minds can such resentments dwell. [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] accordingly she hastened to aeolus, the ruler of the winds,--the same who supplied ulysses with favoring gales, giving him the contrary ones tied up in a bag. aeolus obeyed the goddess and sent forth his sons, boreas, typhon, and the other winds, to toss the ocean. a terrible storm ensued and the trojan ships were driven out of their course towards the coast of africa. they were in imminent danger of being wrecked, and were separated, so that aeneas thought that all were lost except his own. at this crisis, neptune, hearing the storm raging, and knowing that he had given no orders for one, raised his head above the waves, and saw the fleet of aeneas driving before the gale. knowing the hostility of juno, he was at no loss to account for it, but his anger was not the less at this interference in his province. he called the winds and dismissed them with a severe reprimand. he then soothed the waves, and brushed away the clouds from before the face of the sun. some of the ships which had got on the rocks he pried off with his own trident, while triton and a sea-nymph, putting their shoulders under others, set them afloat again. the trojans, when the sea became calm, sought the nearest shore, which was the coast of carthage, where aeneas was so happy as to find that one by one the ships all arrived safe, though badly shaken. waller, in his "panegyric to the lord protector" (cromwell), alludes to this stilling of the storm by neptune: "above the waves, as neptune showed his face, to chide the winds and save the trojan race, so has your highness, raised above the rest, storms of ambition tossing us repressed." dido carthage, where the exiles had now arrived, was a spot on the coast of africa opposite sicily, where at that time a tyrian colony under dido, their queen, were laying the foundations of a state destined in later ages to be the rival of rome itself. dido was the daughter of belus, king of tyre, and sister of pygmalion, who succeeded his father on the throne. her husband was sichaeus, a man of immense wealth, but pygmalion, who coveted his treasures, caused him to be put to death. dido, with a numerous body of friends and followers, both men and women, succeeded in effecting their escape from tyre, in several vessels, carrying with them the treasures of sichaeus. on arriving at the spot which they selected as the seat of their future home, they asked of the natives only so much land as they could enclose with a bull's hide. when this was readily granted, she caused the hide to be cut into strips, and with them enclosed a spot on which she built a citadel, and called it byrsa (a hide). around this fort the city of carthage rose, and soon became a powerful and flourishing place. such was the state of affairs when aeneas with his trojans arrived there. dido received the illustrious exiles with friendliness and hospitality. "not unacquainted with distress," she said, "i have learned to succor the unfortunate." [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] the queen's hospitality displayed itself in festivities at which games of strength and skill were exhibited. the strangers contended for the palm with her own subjects, on equal terms, the queen declaring that whether the victor were "trojan or tyrian should make no difference to her." [footnote : see proverbial expressions.] at the feast which followed the games, aeneas gave at her request a recital of the closing events of the trojan history and his own adventures after the fall of the city. dido was charmed with his discourse and filled with admiration of his exploits. she conceived an ardent passion for him, and he for his part seemed well content to accept the fortunate chance which appeared to offer him at once a happy termination of his wanderings, a home, a kingdom, and a bride. months rolled away in the enjoyment of pleasant intercourse, and it seemed as if italy and the empire destined to be founded on its shores were alike forgotten. seeing which, jupiter despatched mercury with a message to aeneas recalling him to a sense of his high destiny, and commanding him to resume his voyage. aeneas parted from dido, though she tried every allurement and persuasion to detain him. the blow to her affection and her pride was too much for her to endure, and when she found that he was gone, she mounted a funeral pile which she had caused to be erected, and having stabbed herself was consumed with the pile. the flames rising over the city were seen by the departing trojans, and, though the cause was unknown, gave to aeneas some intimation of the fatal event. the following epigram we find in "elegant extracts": from the latin "unhappy, dido, was thy fate in first and second married state! one husband caused thy flight by dying, thy death the other caused by flying" palinurus after touching at the island of sicily, where acestes, a prince of trojan lineage, bore sway, who gave them a hospitable reception, the trojans re-embarked, and held on their course for italy. venus now interceded with neptune to allow her son at last to attain the wished-for goal and find an end of his perils on the deep. neptune consented, stipulating only for one life as a ransom for the rest. the victim was palinurus, the pilot. as he sat watching the stars, with his hand on the helm, somnus sent by neptune approached in the guise of phorbas and said: "palinurus, the breeze is fair, the water smooth, and the ship sails steadily on her course. lie down awhile and take needful rest. i will stand at the helm in your place." palinurus replied, "tell me not of smooth seas or favoring winds,--me who have seen so much of their treachery. shall i trust aeneas to the chances of the weather and the winds?" and he continued to grasp the helm and to keep his eyes fixed on the stars. but somnus waved over him a branch moistened with lethaean dew, and his eyes closed in spite of all his efforts. then somnus pushed him overboard and he fell; but keeping his hold upon the helm, it came away with him. neptune was mindful of his promise and kept the ship on her track without helm or pilot, till aeneas discovered his loss, and, sorrowing deeply for his faithful steersman, took charge of the ship himself. there is a beautiful allusion to the story of palinurus in scott's "marmion," introduction to canto i., where the poet, speaking of the recent death of william pitt, says: "o, think how, to his latest day, when death just hovering claimed his prey, with palinure's unaltered mood, firm at his dangerous post he stood; each call for needful rest repelled, with dying hand the rudder held, till in his fall, with fateful sway, the steerage of the realm gave way." the ships at last reached the shores of italy, and joyfully did the adventurers leap to land. while his people were employed in making their encampment aeneas sought the abode of the sibyl. it was a cave connected with a temple and grove, sacred to apollo and diana. while aeneas contemplated the scene, the sibyl accosted him. she seemed to know his errand, and under the influence of the deity of the place, burst forth in a prophetic strain, giving dark intimations of labors and perils through which he was destined to make his way to final success. she closed with the encouraging words which have become proverbial: "yield not to disasters, but press onward the more bravely." [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] aeneas replied that he had prepared himself for whatever might await him. he had but one request to make. having been directed in a dream to seek the abode of the dead in order to confer with his father, anchises, to receive from him a revelation of his future fortunes and those of his race, he asked her assistance to enable him to accomplish the task. the sibyl replied, "the descent to avernus is easy: the gate of pluto stands open night and day; but to retrace one's steps and return to the upper air, that is the toil, that the difficulty."[footnote: see proverbial expressions.] she instructed him to seek in the forest a tree on which grew a golden branch. this branch was to be plucked off and borne as a gift to proserpine, and if fate was propitious it would yield to the hand and quit its parent trunk, but otherwise no force could rend it away. if torn away, another would succeed.[footnote: see proverbial expressions.] aeneas followed the directions of the sibyl. his mother, venus, sent two of her doves to fly before him and show him the way, and by their assistance he found the tree, plucked the branch, and hastened back with it to the sibyl. chapter xxxii the infernal regions--the sibyl the infernal regions as at the commencement of our series we have given the pagan account of the creation of the world, so as we approach its conclusion we present a view of the regions of the dead, depicted by one of their most enlightened poets, who drew his doctrines from their most esteemed philosophers. the region where virgil locates the entrance to this abode is perhaps the most strikingly adapted to excite ideas of the terrific and preternatural of any on the face of the earth. it is the volcanic region near vesuvius, where the whole country is cleft with chasms, from which sulphurous flames arise, while the ground is shaken with pent-up vapors, and mysterious sounds issue from the bowels of the earth. the lake avernus is supposed to fill the crater of an extinct volcano. it is circular, half a mile wide, and very deep, surrounded by high banks, which in virgil's time were covered with a gloomy forest. mephitic vapors rise from its waters, so that no life is found on its banks, and no birds fly over it. here, according to the poet, was the cave which afforded access to the infernal regions, and here aeneas offered sacrifices to the infernal deities, proserpine, hecate, and the furies. then a roaring was heard in the earth, the woods on the hill-tops were shaken, and the howling of dogs announced the approach of the deities. "now," said the sibyl, "summon up your courage, for you will need it." she descended into the cave, and aeneas followed. before the threshold of hell they passed through a group of beings who are enumerated as griefs and avenging cares, pale diseases and melancholy age, fear and hunger that tempt to crime, toil, poverty, and death,--forms horrible to view. the furies spread their couches there, and discord, whose hair was of vipers tied up with a bloody fillet. here also were the monsters, briareus, with his hundred arms, hydras hissing, and chimaeras breathing fire. aeneas shuddered at the sight, drew his sword and would have struck, but the sibyl restrained him. they then came to the black river cocytus, where they found the ferryman, charon, old and squalid, but strong and vigorous, who was receiving passengers of all kinds into his boat, magnanimous heroes, boys and unmarried girls, as numerous as the leaves that fall at autumn, or the flocks that fly southward at the approach of winter. they stood pressing for a passage and longing to touch the opposite shore. but the stern ferryman took in only such as he chose, driving the rest back. aeneas, wondering at the sight, asked the sibyl, "why this discrimination?" she answered, "those who are taken on board the bark are the souls of those who have received due burial rites; the host of others who have remained unburied are not permitted to pass the flood, but wander a hundred years, and flit to and fro about the shore, till at last they are taken over." aeneas grieved at recollecting some of his own companions who had perished in the storm. at that moment he beheld palinurus, his pilot, who fell overboard and was drowned. he addressed him and asked him the cause of his misfortune. palinurus replied that the rudder was carried away, and he, clinging to it, was swept away with it. he besought aeneas most urgently to extend to him his hand and take him in company to the opposite shore. but the sibyl rebuked him for the wish thus to transgress the laws of pluto; but consoled him by informing him that the people of the shore where his body had been wafted by the waves should be stirred up by prodigies to give it due burial, and that the promontory should bear the name of cape palinurus, which it does to this day. leaving palinurus consoled by these words, they approached the boat. charon, fixing his eyes sternly upon the advancing warrior, demanded by what right he, living and armed, approached that shore. to which the sibyl replied that they would commit no violence, that aeneas's only object was to see his father, and finally exhibited the golden branch, at sight of which charon's wrath relaxed, and he made haste to turn his bark to the shore, and receive them on board. the boat, adapted only to the light freight of bodiless spirits, groaned under the weight of the hero. they were soon conveyed to the opposite shore. there they were encountered by the three-headed dog, cerberus, with his necks bristling with snakes. he barked with all his three throats till the sibyl threw him a medicated cake which he eagerly devoured, and then stretched himself out in his den and fell asleep. aeneas and the sibyl sprang to land. the first sound that struck their ears was the wailing of young children, who had died on the threshold of life, and near to these were they who had perished under false charges. minos presides over them as judge, and examines the deeds of each. the next class was of those who had died by their own hand, hating life and seeking refuge in death. o how willingly would they now endure poverty, labor, and any other infliction, if they might but return to life! next were situated the regions of sadness, divided off into retired paths, leading through groves of myrtle. here roamed those who had fallen victims to unrequited love, not freed from pain even by death itself. among these, aeneas thought he descried the form of dido, with a wound still recent. in the dim light he was for a moment uncertain, but approaching, perceived it was indeed herself. tears fell from his eyes, and he addressed her in the accents of love. "unhappy dido! was then the rumor true that you had perished? and was i, alas! the cause? i call the gods to witness that my departure from you was reluctant, and in obedience to the commands of jove; nor could i believe that my absence would cost you so dear. stop, i beseech you, and refuse me not a last farewell." she stood for a moment with averted countenance, and eyes fixed on the ground, and then silently passed on, as insensible to his pleadings as a rock. aeneas followed for some distance; then, with a heavy heart, rejoined his companion and resumed his route. they next entered the fields where roam the heroes who have fallen in battle. here they saw many shades of grecian and trojan warriors. the trojans thronged around him, and could not be satisfied with the sight. they asked the cause of his coming, and plied him with innumerable questions. but the greeks, at the sight of his armor glittering through the murky atmosphere, recognized the hero, and filled with terror turned their backs and fled, as they used to do on the plains of troy. aeneas would have lingered long with his trojan friends, but the sibyl hurried him away. they next came to a place where the road divided, the one leading to elysium, the other to the regions of the condemned. aeneas beheld on one side the walls of a mighty city, around which phlegethon rolled its fiery waters. before him was the gate of adamant that neither gods nor men can break through. an iron tower stood by the gate, on which tisiphone, the avenging fury, kept guard. from the city were heard groans, and the sound of the scourge, the creaking of iron, and the clanking of chains. aeneas, horror-struck, inquired of his guide what crimes were those whose punishments produced the sounds he heard? the sibyl answered, "here is the judgment hall of rhadamanthus, who brings to light crimes done in life, which the perpetrator vainly thought impenetrably hid. tisiphone applies her whip of scorpions, and delivers the offender over to her sister furies." at this moment with horrid clang the brazen gates unfolded, and aeneas saw within a hydra with fifty heads guarding the entrance. the sibyl told him that the gulf of tartarus descended deep, so that its recesses were as far beneath their feet as heaven was high above their heads. in the bottom of this pit, the titan race, who warred against the gods, lie prostrate; salmoneus, also, who presumed to vie with jupiter, and built a bridge of brass over which he drove his chariot that the sound might resemble thunder, launching flaming brands at his people in imitation of lightning, till jupiter struck him with a real thunderbolt, and taught him the difference between mortal weapons and divine. here, also, is tityus, the giant, whose form is so immense that as he lies he stretches over nine acres, while a vulture preys upon his liver, which as fast as it is devoured grows again, so that his punishment will have no end. aeneas saw groups seated at tables loaded with dainties, while near by stood a fury who snatched away the viands from their lips as fast as they prepared to taste them. others beheld suspended over their heads huge rocks, threatening to fall, keeping them in a state of constant alarm. these were they who had hated their brothers, or struck their parents, or defrauded the friends who trusted them, or who, having grown rich, kept their money to themselves, and gave no share to others; the last being the most numerous class. here also were those who had violated the marriage vow, or fought in a bad cause, or failed in fidelity to their employers. here was one who had sold his country for gold, another who perverted the laws, making them say one thing to-day and another to-morrow. ixion was there, fastened to the circumference of a wheel ceaselessly revolving; and sisyphus, whose task was to roll a huge stone up to a hill-top, but when the steep was well-nigh gained, the rock, repulsed by some sudden force, rushed again headlong down to the plain. again he toiled at it, while the sweat bathed all his weary limbs, but all to no effect. there was tantalus, who stood in a pool, his chin level with the water, yet he was parched with thirst, and found nothing to assuage it; for when he bowed his hoary head, eager to quaff, the water fled away, leaving the ground at his feet all dry. tall trees laden with fruit stooped their heads to him, pears, pomegranates, apples, and luscious figs; but when with a sudden grasp he tried to seize them winds whirled them high above his reach. the sibyl now warned aeneas that it was time to turn from these melancholy regions and seek the city of the blessed. they passed through a middle tract of darkness, and came upon the elysian fields, the groves where the happy reside. they breathed a freer air, and saw all objects clothed in a purple light. the region has a sun and stars of its own. the inhabitants were enjoying themselves in various ways, some in sports on the grassy turf, in games of strength or skill. others dancing or singing. orpheus struck the chords of his lyre, and called forth ravishing sounds. here aeneas saw the founders of the trojan state, magnanimous heroes who lived in happier times. he gazed with admiration on the war chariots and glittering arms now reposing in disuse. spears stood fixed in the ground, and the horses, unharnessed, roamed over the plain. the same pride in splendid armor and generous steeds which the old heroes felt in life, accompanied them here. he saw another group feasting and listening to the strains of music. they were in a laurel grove, whence the great river po has its origin, and flows out among men. here dwelt those who fell by wounds received in their country's cause, holy priests also, and poets who have uttered thoughts worthy of apollo, and others who have contributed to cheer and adorn life by their discoveries in the useful arts, and have made their memory blessed by rendering service to mankind. they wore snow-white fillets about their brows. the sibyl addressed a group of these, and inquired where anchises was to be found. they were directed where to seek him, and soon found him in a verdant valley, where he was contemplating the ranks of his posterity, their destinies and worthy deeds to be achieved in coming times. when he recognized aeneas approaching, he stretched out both hands to him, while tears flowed freely. "have you come at last," said he, "long expected, and do i behold you after such perils past? o my son, how have i trembled for you as i have watched your career!" to which aeneas replied, "o father! your image was always before me to guide and guard me." then he endeavored to enfold his father in his embrace, but his arms enclosed only an unsubstantial image. aeneas perceived before him a spacious valley, with trees gently waving to the wind, a tranquil landscape, through which the river lethe flowed. along the banks of the stream wandered a countless multitude, numerous as insects in the summer air. aeneas, with surprise, inquired who were these. anchises answered, "they are souls to which bodies are to be given in due time. meanwhile they dwell on lethe's bank, and drink oblivion of their former lives." "o father!" said aeneas, "is it possible that any can be so in love with life as to wish to leave these tranquil seats for the upper world?" anchises replied by explaining the plan of creation. the creator, he told him, originally made the material of which souls are composed of the four elements, fire, air, earth, and water, all which when united took the form of the most excellent part, fire, and became flame. this material was scattered like seed among the heavenly bodies, the sun, moon, and stars. of this seed the inferior gods created man and all other animals, mingling it with various proportions of earth, by which its purity was alloyed and reduced. thus, the more earth predominates in the composition the less pure is the individual; and we see men and women with their full-grown bodies have not the purity of childhood. so in proportion to the time which the union of body and soul has lasted is the impurity contracted by the spiritual part. this impurity must be purged away after death, which is done by ventilating the souls in the current of winds, or merging them in water, or burning out their impurities by fire. some few, of whom anchises intimates that he is one, are admitted at once to elysium, there to remain. but the rest, after the impurities of earth are purged away, are sent back to life endowed with new bodies, having had the remembrance of their former lives effectually washed away by the waters of lethe. some, however, there still are, so thoroughly corrupted, that they are not fit to be intrusted with human bodies, and these are made into brute animals, lions, tigers, cats, dogs, monkeys, etc. this is what the ancients called metempsychosis, or the transmigration of souls; a doctrine which is still held by the natives of india, who scruple to destroy the life even of the most insignificant animal, not knowing but it may be one of their relations in an altered form. anchises, having explained so much, proceeded to point out to aeneas individuals of his race, who were hereafter to be born, and to relate to him the exploits they should perform in the world. after this he reverted to the present, and told his son of the events that remained to him to be accomplished before the complete establishment of himself and his followers in italy. wars were to be waged, battles fought, a bride to be won, and in the result a trojan state founded, from which should rise the roman power, to be in time the sovereign of the world. aeneas and the sibyl then took leave of anchises, and returned by some short cut, which the poet does not explain, to the upper world. elysium virgil, we have seen, places his elysium under the earth, and assigns it for a residence to the spirits of the blessed. but in homer elysium forms no part of the realms of the dead. he places it on the west of the earth, near ocean, and describes it as a happy land, where there is neither snow, nor cold, nor rain, and always fanned by the delightful breezes of zephyrus. hither favored heroes pass without dying and live happy under the rule of rhadamanthus. the elysium of hesiod and pindar is in the isles of the blessed, or fortunate islands, in the western ocean. from these sprang the legend of the happy island atlantis. this blissful region may have been wholly imaginary, but possibly may have sprung from the reports of some storm-driven mariners who had caught a glimpse of the coast of america. j. r. lowell, in one of his shorter poems, claims for the present age some of the privileges of that happy realm. addressing the past, he says: "whatever of true life there was in thee, leaps in our age's veins. here, 'mid the bleak waves of our strife and care, float the green 'fortunate isles,' where all thy hero-spirits dwell and share our martyrdoms and toils. the present moves attended with all of brave and excellent and fair that made the old time splendid." milton also alludes to the same fable in "paradise lost," book iii, . : "like those hesperian gardens famed of old, fortunate fields and groves and flowery vales, thrice happy isles." and in book ii. he characterizes the rivers of erebus according to the meaning of their names in the greek language: "abhorred styx, the flood of deadly hate, sad acheron of sorrow black and deep; cocytus named of lamentation loud heard on the rueful stream; fierce phlegethon whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage. far off from these a slow and silent stream, lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks forthwith his former state and being forgets, forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain." the sibyl as aeneas and the sibyl pursued their way back to earth, he said to her, "whether thou be a goddess or a mortal beloved of the gods, by me thou shalt always be held in reverence. when i reach the upper air i will cause a temple to be built to thy honor, and will myself bring offerings." "i am no goddess," said the sibyl; "i have no claim to sacrifice or offering. i am mortal; yet if i could have accepted the love of apollo i might have been immortal. he promised me the fulfilment of my wish, if i would consent to be his. i took a handful of sand, and holding it forth, said, 'grant me to see as many birthdays as there are sand grains in my hand.' unluckily i forgot to ask for enduring youth. this also he would have granted, could i have accepted his love, but offended at my refusal, he allowed me to grow old. my youth and youthful strength fled long ago. i have lived seven hundred years, and to equal the number of the sand grains i have still to see three hundred springs and three hundred harvests. my body shrinks up as years increase, and in time, i shall be lost to sight, but my voice will remain, and future ages will respect my sayings." these concluding words of the sibyl alluded to her prophetic power. in her cave she was accustomed to inscribe on leaves gathered from the trees the names and fates of individuals. the leaves thus inscribed were arranged in order within the cave, and might be consulted by her votaries. but if perchance at the opening of the door the wind rushed in and dispersed the leaves the sibyl gave no aid to restoring them again, and the oracle was irreparably lost. the following legend of the sibyl is fixed at a later date. in the reign of one of the tarquins there appeared before the king a woman who offered him nine books for sale. the king refused to purchase them, whereupon the woman went away and burned three of the books, and returning offered the remaining books for the same price she had asked for the nine. the king again rejected them; but when the woman, after burning three books more, returned and asked for the three remaining the same price which she had before asked for the nine, his curiosity was excited, and he purchased the books. they were found to contain the destinies of the roman state. they were kept in the temple of jupiter capitolinus, preserved in a stone chest, and allowed to be inspected only by especial officers appointed for that duty, who, on great occasions, consulted them and interpreted their oracles to the people. there were various sibyls; but the cumaean sibyl, of whom ovid and virgil write, is the most celebrated of them. ovid's story of her life protracted to one thousand years may be intended to represent the various sibyls as being only reappearances of one and the same individual. young, in the "night thoughts," alludes to the sibyl. speaking of worldly wisdom, he says: "if future fate she plans 'tis all in leaves, like sibyl, unsubstantial, fleeting bliss; at the first blast it vanishes in air. as worldly schemes resemble sibyl's leaves, the good man's days to sibyl's books compare, the price still rising as in number less." chapter xxxiii camilla--evander--nisus and euryalus--mezentius--turnus aeneas, having parted from the sibyl and rejoined his fleet, coasted along the shores of italy and cast anchor in the mouth of the tiber. the poet, having brought his hero to this spot, the destined termination of his wanderings, invokes his muse to tell him the situation of things at that eventful moment. latinus, third in descent from saturn, ruled the country. he was now old and had no male descendant, but had one charming daughter, lavinia, who was sought in marriage by many neighboring chiefs, one of whom, turnus, king of the rutulians, was favored by the wishes of her parents. but latinus had been warned in a dream by his father faunus, that the destined husband of lavinia should come from a foreign land. from that union should spring a race destined to subdue the world. our readers will remember that in the conflict with the harpies one of those half-human birds had threatened the trojans with dire sufferings. in particular she predicted that before their wanderings ceased they should be pressed by hunger to devour their tables. this portent now came true; for as they took their scanty meal, seated on the grass, the men placed their hard biscuit on their laps, and put thereon whatever their gleanings in the woods supplied. having despatched the latter they finished by eating the crusts. seeing which, the boy iulus said playfully, "see, we are eating our tables." aeneas caught the words and accepted the omen. "all hail, promised land!" he exclaimed, "this is our home, this our country." he then took measures to find out who were the present inhabitants of the land, and who their rulers. a hundred chosen men were sent to the village of latinus, bearing presents and a request for friendship and alliance. they went and were favorably received. latinus immediately concluded that the trojan hero was no other than the promised son-in-law announced by the oracle. he cheerfully granted his alliance and sent back the messengers mounted on steeds from his stables, and loaded with gifts and friendly messages. juno, seeing things go thus prosperously for the trojans, felt her old animosity revive, summoned alecto from erebus, and sent her to stir up discord. the fury first took possession of the queen, amata, and roused her to oppose in every way the new alliance. alecto then speeded to the city of turnus, and assuming the form of an old priestess, informed him of the arrival of the foreigners and of the attempts of their prince to rob him of his bride. next she turned her attention to the camp of the trojans. there she saw the boy iulus and his companions amusing themselves with hunting. she sharpened the scent of the dogs, and led them to rouse up from the thicket a tame stag, the favorite of silvia, the daughter of tyrrheus, the king's herdsman. a javelin from the hand of iulus wounded the animal, and he had only strength left to run homewards, and died at his mistress's feet. her cries and tears roused her brothers and the herdsmen, and they, seizing whatever weapons came to hand, furiously assaulted the hunting party. these were protected by their friends, and the herdsmen were finally driven back with the loss of two of their number. these things were enough to rouse the storm of war, and the queen, turnus, and the peasants all urged the old king to drive the strangers from the country. he resisted as long as he could, but, finding his opposition unavailing, finally gave way and retreated to his retirement. opening the gates of janus it was the custom of the country, when war was to be undertaken, for the chief magistrate, clad in his robes of office, with solemn pomp to open the gates of the temple of janus, which were kept shut as long as peace endured. his people now urged the old king to perform that solemn office, but he refused to do so. while they contested, juno herself, descending from the skies, smote the doors with irresistible force, and burst them open. immediately the whole country was in a flame. the people rushed from every side breathing nothing but war. turnus was recognized by all as leader; others joined as allies, chief of whom was mezentius, a brave and able soldier, but of detestable cruelty. he had been the chief of one of the neighboring cities, but his people drove him out. with him was joined his son lausus, a generous youth, worthy of a better sire. camilla camilla, the favorite of diana, a huntress and warrior, after the fashion of the amazons, came with her band of mounted followers, including a select number of her own sex, and ranged herself on the side of turnus. this maiden had never accustomed her fingers to the distaff or the loom, but had learned to endure the toils of war, and in speed to outstrip the wind. it seemed as if she might run over the standing corn without crushing it, or over the surface of the water without dipping her feet. camilla's history had been singular from the beginning. her father, metabus, driven from his city by civil discord, carried with him in his flight his infant daughter. as he fled through the woods, his enemies in hot pursuit, he reached the bank of the river amazenus, which, swelled by rains, seemed to debar a passage. he paused for a moment, then decided what to do. he tied the infant to his lance with wrappers of bark, and poising the weapon in his upraised hand thus addressed diana: "goddess of the woods! i consecrate this maid to you;" then hurled the weapon with its burden to the opposite bank. the spear flew across the roaring water. his pursuers were already upon him, but he plunged into the river and swam across, and found the spear, with the infant safe on the other side. thenceforth he lived among the shepherds and brought up his daughter in woodland arts. while a child she was taught to use the bow and throw the javelin. with her sling she could bring down the crane or the wild swan. her dress was a tiger's skin. many mothers sought her for a daughter-in-law, but she continued faithful to diana and repelled the thought of marriage. evander such were the formidable allies that ranged themselves against aeneas. it was night and he lay stretched in sleep on the bank of the river under the open heavens. the god of the stream, father tiber, seemed to raise his head above the willows and to say, "o goddess-born, destined possessor of the latin realms, this is the promised land, here is to be your home, here shall terminate the hostility of the heavenly powers, if only you faithfully persevere. there are friends not far distant. prepare your boats and row up my stream; i will lead you to evander, the arcadian chief, he has long been at strife with turnus and the rutulians, and is prepared to become an ally of yours. rise! offer your vows to juno, and deprecate her anger. when you have achieved your victory then think of me." aeneas woke and paid immediate obedience to the friendly vision. he sacrificed to juno, and invoked the god of the river and all his tributary fountains to lend their aid. then for the first time a vessel filled with armed warriors floated on the stream of the tiber. the river smoothed its waves, and bade its current flow gently, while, impelled by the vigorous strokes of the rowers, the vessels shot rapidly up the stream. about the middle of the day they came in sight of the scattered buildings of the infant town, where in after times the proud city of rome grew, whose glory reached the skies. by chance the old king, evander, was that day celebrating annual solemnities in honor of hercules and all the gods. pallas, his son, and all the chiefs of the little commonwealth stood by. when they saw the tall ship gliding onward near the wood, they were alarmed at the sight, and rose from the tables. but pallas forbade the solemnities to be interrupted, and seizing a weapon, stepped forward to the river's bank. he called aloud, demanding who they were, and what their object. aeneas, holding forth an olive-branch, replied, "we are trojans, friends to you, and enemies to the rutulians. we seek evander, and offer to join our arms with yours." pallas, in amaze at the sound of so great a name, invited them to land, and when aeneas touched the shore he seized his hand, and held it long in friendly grasp. proceeding through the wood, they joined the king and his party and were most favorably received. seats were provided for them at the tables, and the repast proceeded. infant rome when the solemnities were ended all moved towards the city. the king, bending with age, walked between his son and aeneas, taking the arm of one or the other of them, and with much variety of pleasing talk shortening the way. aeneas with delight looked and listened, observing all the beauties of the scene, and learning much of heroes renowned in ancient times. evander said, "these extensive groves were once inhabited by fauns and nymphs, and a rude race of men who sprang from the trees themselves, and had neither laws nor social culture. they knew not how to yoke the cattle nor raise a harvest, nor provide from present abundance for future want; but browsed like beasts upon the leafy boughs, or fed voraciously on their hunted prey. such were they when saturn, expelled from olympus by his sons, came among them and drew together the fierce savages, formed them into society, and gave them laws. such peace and plenty ensued that men ever since have called his reign the golden age; but by degrees far other times succeeded, and the thirst of gold and the thirst of blood prevailed. the land was a prey to successive tyrants, till fortune and resistless destiny brought me hither, an exile from my native land, arcadia." having thus said, he showed him the tarpeian rock, and the rude spot then overgrown with bushes where in after times the capitol rose in all its magnificence. he next pointed to some dismantled walls, and said, "here stood janiculum, built by janus, and there saturnia, the town of saturn." such discourse brought them to the cottage of poor evander, whence they saw the lowing herds roaming over the plain where now the proud and stately forum stands. they entered, and a couch was spread for aeneas, well stuffed with leaves, and covered with the skin of a libyan bear. next morning, awakened by the dawn and the shrill song of birds beneath the eaves of his low mansion, old evander rose. clad in a tunic, and a panther's skin thrown over his shoulders, with sandals on his feet and his good sword girded to his side, he went forth to seek his guest. two mastiffs followed him, his whole retinue and body guard. he found the hero attended by his faithful achates, and, pallas soon joining them, the old king spoke thus: "illustrious trojan, it is but little we can do in so great a cause. our state is feeble, hemmed in on one side by the river, on the other by the rutulians. but i propose to ally you with a people numerous and rich, to whom fate has brought you at the propitious moment. the etruscans hold the country beyond the river. mezentius was their king, a monster of cruelty, who invented unheard-of torments to gratify his vengeance. he would fasten the dead to the living, hand to hand and face to face, and leave the wretched victims to die in that dreadful embrace. at length the people cast him out, him and his house. they burned his palace and slew his friends. he escaped and took refuge with turnus, who protects him with arms. the etruscans demand that he shall be given up to deserved punishment, and would ere now have attempted to enforce their demand; but their priests restrain them, telling them that it is the will of heaven that no native of the land shall guide them to victory, and that thsir destined leader must come from across the sea. they have offered the crown to me, but i am too old to undertake such great affairs, and my son is native-born, which precludes him from the choice. you, equally by birth and time of life, and fame in arms, pointed out by the gods, have but to appear to be hailed at once as their leader. with you i will join pallas, my son, my only hope and comfort. under you he shall learn the art of war, and strive to emulate your great exploits." then the king ordered horses to be furnished for the trojan chiefs, and aeneas, with a chosen band of followers and pallas accompanying, mounted and took the way to the etruscan city, [footnote: the poet here inserts a famous line which is thought to imitate in its sound the galloping of horses. it may be thus translated--"then struck the hoofs of the steeds on the ground with a four-footed trampling."--see proverbial expressions.] having sent back the rest of his party in the ships. aeneas and his band safely arrived at the etruscan camp and were received with open arms by tarchon and his countrymen. nisus and euryalus in the meanwhile turnus had collected his bands and made all necessary preparations for the war. juno sent iris to him with a message inciting him to take advantage of the absence of aeneas and surprise the trojan camp. accordingly the attempt was made, but the trojans were found on their guard, and having received strict orders from aeneas not to fight in his absence, they lay still in their intrenchments, and resisted all the efforts of the rutulians to draw them into the field. night coming on, the army of turnus, in high spirits at their fancied superiority, feasted and enjoyed themselves, and finally stretched themselves on the field and slept secure. in the camp of the trojans things were far otherwise. there all was watchfulness and anxiety and impatience for aeneas's return. nisus stood guard at the entrance of the camp, and euryalus, a youth distinguished above all in the army for graces of person and fine qualities, was with him. these two were friends and brothers in arms. nisus said to his friend, "do you perceive what confidence and carelessness the enemy display? their lights are few and dim, and the men seem all oppressed with wine or sleep. you know how anxiously our chiefs wish to send to aeneas, and to get intelligence from him. now, i am strongly moved to make my way through the enemy's camp and to go in search of our chief. if i succeed, the glory of the deed will be reward enough for me, and if they judge the service deserves anything more, let them pay it to you." euryalus, all on fire with the love of adventure, replied, "would you, then, nisus, refuse to share your enterprise with me? and shall i let you go into such danger alone? not so my brave father brought me up, nor so have i planned for myself when i joined the standard of aeneas, and resolved to hold my life cheap in comparison with honor." nisus replied, "i doubt it not, my friend; but you know the uncertain event of such an undertaking, and whatever may happen to me, i wish you to be safe. you are younger than i and have more of life in prospect. nor can i be the cause of such grief to your mother, who has chosen to be here in the camp with you rather than stay and live in peace with the other matrons in acestes' city." euryalus replied, "say no more. in vain you seek arguments to dissuade me. i am fixed in the resolution to go with you. let us lose no time." they called the guard, and committing the watch to them, sought the general's tent. they found the chief officers in consultation, deliberating how they should send notice to aeneas of their situation. the offer of the two friends was gladly accepted, themselves loaded with praises and promised the most liberal rewards in case of success. iulus especially addressed euryalus, assuring him of his lasting friendship. euryalus replied, "i have but one boon to ask. my aged mother is with me in the camp. for me she left the trojan soil, and would not stay behind with the other matrons at the city of acestes. i go now without taking leave of her. i could not bear her tears nor set at nought her entreaties. but do thou, i beseech you, comfort her in her distress. promise me that and i shall go more boldly into whatever dangers may present themselves." iulus and the other chiefs were moved to tears, and promised to do all his request. "your mother shall be mine," said iulus, "and all that i have promised to you shall be made good to her, if you do not return to receive it." the two friends left the camp and plunged at once into the midst of the enemy. they found no watch, no sentinels posted, but, all about, the sleeping soldiers strewn on the grass and among the wagons. the laws of war at that early day did not forbid a brave man to slay a sleeping foe, and the two trojans slew, as they passed, such of the enemy as they could without exciting alarm. in one tent euryalus made prize of a helmet brilliant with gold and plumes. they had passed through the enemy's ranks without being discovered, but now suddenly appeared a troop directly in front of them, which, under volscens, their leader, were approaching the camp. the glittering helmet of euryalus caught their attention, and volscens hailed the two, and demanded who and whence they were. they made no answer, but plunged into the wood. the horsemen scattered in all directions to intercept their flight. nisus had eluded pursuit and was out of danger, but euryalus being missing he turned back to seek him. he again entered the wood and soon came within sound of voices. looking through the thicket he saw the whole band surrounding euryalus with noisy questions. what should he do? how extricate the youth, or would it be better to die with him. raising his eyes to the moon, which now shone clear, he said, "goddess! favor my effort!" and aiming his javelin at one of the leaders of the troop, struck him in the back and stretched him on the plain with a death-blow. in the midst of their amazement another weapon flew and another of the party fell dead. volscens, the leader, ignorant whence the darts came, rushed sword in hand upon euryalus. "you shall pay the penalty of both," he said, and would have plunged the sword into his bosom, when nisus, who from his concealment saw the peril of his friend, rushed forward exclaiming, "'twas i, 'twas i; turn your swords against me, rutulians, i did it; he only followed me as a friend." while he spoke the sword fell, and pierced the comely bosom of euryalus. his head fell over on his shoulder, like a flower cut down by the plough. nisus rushed upon volscens and plunged his sword into his body, and was himself slain on the instant by numberless blows. mezentius aeneas, with his etrurian allies, arrived on the scene of action in time to rescue his beleaguered camp; and now the two armies being nearly equal in strength, the war began in good earnest. we cannot find space for all the details, but must simply record the fate of the principal characters whom we have introduced to our readers. the tyrant mezentius, finding himself engaged against his revolting subjects, raged like a wild beast. he slew all who dared to withstand him, and put the multitude to flight wherever he appeared. at last he encountered aeneas, and the armies stood still to see the issue. mezentius threw his spear, which striking aeneas's shield glanced off and hit anthor. he was a grecian by birth, who had left argos, his native city, and followed evander into italy. the poet says of him with simple pathos which has made the words proverbial, "he fell, unhappy, by a wound intended for another, looked up at the skies, and dying remembered sweet argos." [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] aeneas now in turn hurled his lance. it pierced the shield of mezentius, and wounded him in the thigh. lausus, his son, could not bear the sight, but rushed forward and interposed himself, while the followers pressed round mezentius and bore him away. aeneas held his sword suspended over lausus and delayed to strike, but the furious youth pressed on and he was compelled to deal the fatal blow. lausus fell, and aeneas bent over him in pity. "hapless youth," he said, "what can i do for you worthy of your praise? keep those arms in which you glory, and fear not but that your body shall be restored to your friends, and have due funeral honors." so saying, he called the timid followers and delivered the body into their hands. mezentius meanwhile had been borne to the riverside, and washed his wound. soon the news reached him of lausus's death, and rage and despair supplied the place of strength. he mounted his horse and dashed into the thickest of the fight, seeking aeneas. having found him, [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] he rode round him in a circle, throwing one javelin after another, while aeneas stood fenced with his shield, turning every way to meet them. at last, after mezentius had three times made the circuit, aeneas threw his lance directly at the horse's head. it pierced his temples and he fell, while a shout from both armies rent the skies. mezentius asked no mercy, but only that his body might be spared the insults of his revolted subjects, and be buried in the same grave with his son. he received the fatal stroke not unprepared, and poured out his life and his blood together. pallas, camilla, turnus while these things were doing in one part of the field, in another turnus encountered the youthful pallas. the contest between champions so unequally matched could not be doubtful. pallas bore himself bravely, but fell by the lance of turnus. the victor almost relented when he saw the brave youth lying dead at his feet, and spared to use the privilege of a conqueror in despoiling him of his arms. the belt only, adorned with studs and carvings of gold, he took and clasped round his own body. the rest he remitted to the friends of the slain. after the battle there was a cessation of arms for some days to allow both armies to bury their dead. in this interval aeneas challenged turnus to decide the contest by single combat, but turnus evaded the challenge. another battle ensued, in which camilla, the virgin warrior, was chiefly conspicuous. her deeds of valor surpassed those of the bravest warriors, and many trojans and etruscans fell pierced with her darts or struck down by her battle-axe. at last an etruscan named aruns, who had watched her long, seeking for some advantage, observed her pursuing a flying enemy whose splendid armor offered a tempting prize. intent on the chase she observed not her danger, and the javelin of aruns struck her and inflicted a fatal wound. she fell and breathed her last in the arms of her attendant maidens. but diana, who beheld her fate, suffered not her slaughter to be unavenged. aruns, as he stole away, glad, but frightened, was struck by a secret arrow, launched by one of the nymphs of diana's train, and died ignobly and unknown. at length the final conflict took place between aeneas and turnus. turnus had avoided the contest as long as he could, but at last, impelled by the ill success of his arms and by the murmurs of his followers, he braced himself to the conflict. it could not be doubtful. on the side of aeneas were the expressed decree of destiny, the aid of his goddess-mother at every emergency, and impenetrable armor fabricated by vulcan, at her request, for her son. turnus, on the other hand, was deserted by his celestial allies, juno having been expressly forbidden by jupiter to assist him any longer. turnus threw his lance, but it recoiled harmless from the shield of aeneas. the trojan hero then threw his, which penetrated the shield of turnus, and pierced his thigh. then turnus's fortitude forsook him and he begged for mercy; and aeneas would have given him his life, but at the instant his eye fell on the belt of pallas, which turnus had taken from the slaughtered youth. instantly his rage revived, and exclaiming, "pallas immolates thee with this blow," he thrust him through with his sword. here the poem of the "aeneid" closes, and we are left to infer that aeneas, having triumphed over his foes, obtained lavinia for his bride. tradition adds that he founded his city, and called it after her name, lavinium. his son iulus founded alba longa, which was the birthplace of romulus and remus and the cradle of rome itself. there is an allusion to camilla in those well-known lines of pope, in which, illustrating the rule that "the sound should be an echo to the sense," he says: "when ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, the line too labors and the words move slow. not so when swift camilla scours the plain, flies o'er th' unbending corn or skims along the main." --essay on criticism. chapter xxxiv pythagoras--egyptian deities--oracles pythagoras the teachings of anchises to aeneas, respecting the nature of the human soul, were in conformity with the doctrines of the pythagoreans. pythagoras (born five hundred and forty years b.c.) was a native of the island of samos, but passed the chief portion of his life at crotona in italy. he is therefore sometimes called "the samian," and sometimes "the philosopher of crotona." when young he travelled extensively, and it is said visited egypt, where he was instructed by the priests in all their learning, and afterwards journeyed to the east, and visited the persian and chaldean magi, and the brahmins of india. at crotona, where he finally established himself, his extraordinary qualities collected round him a great number of disciples. the inhabitants were notorious for luxury and licentiousness, but the good effects of his influence were soon visible. sobriety and temperance succeeded. six hundred of the inhabitants became his disciples and enrolled themselves in a society to aid each other in the pursuit of wisdom, uniting their property in one common stock for the benefit of the whole. they were required to practise the greatest purity and simplicity of manners. the first lesson they learned was silence; for a time they were required to be only hearers. "he [pythagoras] said so" (ipse dixit), was to be held by them as sufficient, without any proof. it was only the advanced pupils, after years of patient submission, who were allowed to ask questions and to state objections. pythagoras considered numbers as the essence and principle of all things, and attributed to them a real and distinct existence; so that, in his view, they were the elements out of which the universe was constructed. how he conceived this process has never been satisfactorily explained. he traced the various forms and phenomena of the world to numbers as their basis and essence. the "monad" or unit he regarded as the source of all numbers. the number two was imperfect, and the cause of increase and division. three was called the number of the whole because it had a beginning, middle, and end. four, representing the square, is in the highest degree perfect; and ten, as it contains the sum of the four prime numbers, comprehends all musical and arithmetical proportions, and denotes the system of the world. as the numbers proceed from the monad, so he regarded the pure and simple essence of the deity as the source of all the forms of nature. gods, demons, and heroes are emanations of the supreme, and there is a fourth emanation, the human soul. this is immortal, and when freed from the fetters of the body passes to the habitation of the dead, where it remains till it returns to the world, to dwell in some other human or animal body, and at last, when sufficiently purified, it returns to the source from which it proceeded. this doctrine of the transmigration of souls (metempsychosis), which was originally egyptian and connected with the doctrine of reward and punishment of human actions, was the chief cause why the pythagoreans killed no animals. ovid represents pythagoras addressing his disciples in these words: "souls never die, but always on quitting one abode pass to another. i myself can remember that in the time of the trojan war i was euphorbus, the son of panthus, and fell by the spear of menelaus. lately being in the temple of juno, at argos, i recognized my shield hung up there among the trophies. all things change, nothing perishes. the soul passes hither and thither, occupying now this body, now that, passing from the body of a beast into that of a man, and thence to a beast's again. as wax is stamped with certain figures, then melted, then stamped anew with others, yet is always the same wax, so the soul, being always the same, yet wears, at different times, different forms. therefore, if the love of kindred is not extinct in your bosoms, forbear, i entreat you, to violate the life of those who may haply be your own relatives." shakspeare, in the "merchant of venice," makes gratiano allude to the metempsychosis, where he says to shylock: "thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith, to hold opinion with pythagoras, that souls of animals infuse themselves into the trunks of men; thy currish spirit governed a wolf; who hanged for human slaughter infused his soul in thee; for thy desires are wolfish, bloody, starved and ravenous." the relation of the notes of the musical scale to numbers, whereby harmony results from vibrations in equal times, and discord from the reverse, led pythagoras to apply the word "harmony" to the visible creation, meaning by it the just adaptation of parts to each other. this is the idea which dryden expresses in the beginning of his "song for st. cecilia's day": "from harmony, from heavenly harmony this everlasting frame began; from harmony to harmony through all the compass of the notes it ran, the diapason closing full in man." in the centre of the universe (he taught) there was a central fire, the principle of life. the central fire was surrounded by the earth, the moon, the sun, and the five planets. the distances of the various heavenly bodies from one another were conceived to correspond to the proportions of the musical scale. the heavenly bodies, with the gods who inhabited them, were supposed to perform a choral dance round the central fire, "not without song." it is this doctrine which shakspeare alludes to when he makes lorenzo teach astronomy to jessica in this fashion: "look, jessica, see how the floor of heaven is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold! there's not the smallest orb that thou behold'st but in his motion like an angel sings, still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim; such harmony is in immortal souls! but whilst this muddy vesture of decay doth grossly close it in we cannot hear it." --merchant of venice. the spheres were conceived to be crystalline or glassy fabrics arranged over one another like a nest of bowls reversed. in the substance of each sphere one or more of the heavenly bodies was supposed to be fixed, so as to move with it. as the spheres are transparent we look through them and see the heavenly bodies which they contain and carry round with them. but as these spheres cannot move on one another without friction, a sound is thereby produced which is of exquisite harmony, too fine for mortal ears to recognize. milton, in his "hymn on the nativity," thus alludes to the music of the spheres: "ring out, ye crystal spheres! once bless our human ears (if ye have power to charm our senses so); and let your silver chime move in melodious time, and let the base of heaven's deep organ blow; and with your ninefold harmony make up full concert with the angelic symphony." pythagoras is said to have invented the lyre. our own poet longfellow, in "verses to a child," thus relates the story: "as great pythagoras of yore, standing beside the blacksmith's door, and hearing the hammers as they smote the anvils with a different note, stole from the varying tones that hung vibrant on every iron tongue, the secret of the sounding wire, and formed the seven-chorded lyre." see also the same poet's "occupation of orion"-- "the samian's great aeolian lyre." sybaris and crotona sybaris, a neighboring city to crotona, was as celebrated for luxury and effeminacy as crotona for the reverse. the name has become proverbial. j. r. lowell uses it in this sense in his charming little poem "to the dandelion": "not in mid june the golden cuirassed bee feels a more summer-like, warm ravishment in the white lily's breezy tent (his conquered sybaris) than i when first from the dark green thy yellow circles burst." a war arose between the two cities, and sybaris was conquered and destroyed. milo, the celebrated athlete, led the army of crotona. many stories are told of milo's vast strength, such as his carrying a heifer of four years old upon his shoulders and afterwards eating the whole of it in a single day. the mode of his death is thus related: as he was passing through a forest he saw the trunk of a tree which had been partially split open by wood- cutters, and attempted to rend it further; but the wood closed upon his hands and held him fast, in which state he was attacked and devoured by wolves. byron, in his "ode to napoleon bonaparte," alludes to the story of milo: "he who of old would rend the oak deemed not of the rebound; chained by the trunk he vainly broke, alone, how looked he round!" egyptian deities the egyptians acknowledged as the highest deity amun, afterwards called zeus, or jupiter ammon. amun manifested himself in his word or will, which created kneph and athor, of different sexes. from kneph and athor proceeded osiris and isis. osiris was worshipped as the god of the sun, the source of warmth, life, and fruitfulness, in addition to which he was also regarded as the god of the nile, who annually visited his wife, isis (the earth), by means of an inundation. serapis or hermes is sometimes represented as identical with osiris, and sometimes as a distinct divinity, the ruler of tartarus and god of medicine. anubis is the guardian god, represented with a dog's head, emblematic of his character of fidelity and watchfulness. horus or harpocrates was the son of osiris. he is represented seated on a lotus flower, with his finger on his lips, as the god of silence. in one of moore's "irish melodies" is an allusion to harpocrates: "thyself shall, under some rosy bower, sit mute, with thy finger on thy lip; like him, the boy, who born among the flowers that on the nile-stream blush, sits ever thus,--his only song to earth and heaven, 'hush all, hush!'" myth of osiris and isis osiris and isis were at one time induced to descend to the earth to bestow gifts and blessings on its inhabitants. isis showed them first the use of wheat and barley, and osiris made the instruments of agriculture and taught men the use of them, as well as how to harness the ox to the plough. he then gave men laws, the institution of marriage, a civil organization, and taught them how to worship the gods. after he had thus made the valley of the nile a happy country, he assembled a host with which he went to bestow his blessings upon the rest of the world. he conquered the nations everywhere, but not with weapons, only with music and eloquence. his brother typhon saw this, and filled with envy and malice sought during his absence to usurp his throne. but isis, who held the reins of government, frustrated his plans. still more embittered, he now resolved to kill his brother. this he did in the following manner: having organized a conspiracy of seventy-two members, he went with them to the feast which was celebrated in honor of the king's return. he then caused a box or chest to be brought in, which had been made to fit exactly the size of osiris, and declared that he wouldd would give that chest of precious wood to whosoever could get into it. the rest tried in vain, but no sooner was osiris in it than typhon and his companions closed the lid and flung the chest into the nile. when isis heard of the cruel murder she wept and mourned, and then with her hair shorn, clothed in black and beating her breast, she sought diligently for the body of her husband. in this search she was materially assisted by anubis, the son of osiris and nephthys. they sought in vain for some time; for when the chest, carried by the waves to the shores of byblos, had become entangled in the reeds that grew at the edge of the water, the divine power that dwelt in the body of osiris imparted such strength to the shrub that it grew into a mighty tree, enclosing in its trunk the coffin of the god. this tree with its sacred deposit was shortly after felled, and erected as a column in the palace of the king of phoenicia. but at length by the aid of anubis and the sacred birds, isis ascertained these facts, and then went to the royal city. there she offered herself at the palace as a servant, and being admitted, threw off her disguise and appeared as a goddess, surrounded with thunder and lightning. striking the column with her wand she caused it to split open and give up the sacred coffin. this she seized and returned with it, and concealed it in the depth of a forest, but typhon discovered it, and cutting the body into fourteen pieces scattered them hither and thither. after a tedious search, isis found thirteen pieces, the fishes of the nile having eaten the other. this she replaced by an imitation of sycamore wood, and buried the body at philae, which became ever after the great burying place of the nation, and the spot to which pilgrimages were made from all parts of the country. a temple of surpassing magnificence was also erected there in honor of the god, and at every place where one of his limbs had been found minor temples and tombs were built to commemorate the event. osiris became after that the tutelar deity of the egyptians. his soul was supposed always to inhabit the body of the bull apis, and at his death to transfer itself to his successor. apis, the bull of memphis, was worshipped with the greatest reverence by the egyptians. the individual animal who was held to be apis was recognized by certain signs. it was requisite that he should be quite black, have a white square mark on the forehead, another, in the form of an eagle, on his back, and under his tongue a lump somewhat in the shape of a scarabaeus or beetle. as soon as a bull thus marked was found by those sent in search of him, he was placed in a building facing the east, and was fed with milk for four months. at the expiration of this term the priests repaired at new moon, with great pomp, to his habitation and saluted him apis. he was placed in a vessel magnificently decorated and conveyed down the nile to memphis, where a temple, with two chapels and a court for exercise, was assigned to him. sacrifices were made to him, and once every year, about the time when the nile began to rise, a golden cup was thrown into the river, and a grand festival was held to celebrate his birthday. the people believed that during this festival the crocodiles forgot their natural ferocity and became harmless. there was, however, one drawback to his happy lot: he was not permitted to live beyond a certain period, and if, when he had attained the age of twenty-five years, he still survived, the priests drowned him in the sacred cistern and then buried him in the temple of serapis. on the death of this bull, whether it occurred in the course of nature or by violence, the whole land was filled with sorrow and lamentations, which lasted until his successor was found. we find the following item in one of the newspapers of the day: "the tomb of apis.--the excavations going on at memphis bid fair to make that buried city as interesting as pompeii. the monster tomb of apis is now open, after having lain unknown for centuries." milton, in his "hymn on the nativity," alludes to the egyptian deities, not as imaginary beings, but as real demons, put to flight by the coming of christ. "the brutish god of nile as fast, isis and horus and the dog anubis haste. nor is osiris seen in memphian grove or green trampling the unshowered grass with lowings loud; nor can he be at rest within his sacred chest; nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud. in vain with timbrel'd anthems dark the sable-stole sorcerers bear his worshipped ark." [footnote: there being no rain in egypt, the grass is "unshowered," and the country depend for its fertility upon the overflowings of the nile. the ark alluded to in the last line is shown by pictures still remaining on the walls of the egyptian temples to have been borne by the priests in their religious processions. it probably represented the chest in which osiris was placed.] isis was represinted in statuary with the head veiled, a symbol of mystery. it is this which tennyson alludes to in "maud," iv., : "for the drift of the maker is dark, an isis hid by the veil," etc. oracles oracle was the name used to denote the place where answers were supposed to be given by any of the divinities to those who consulted them respecting the future. the word was also used to signify the response which was given. the most ancient grecian oracle was that of jupiter at dodona. according to one account, it was established in the following manner: two black doves took their flight from thebes in egypt. one flew to dodona in epirus, and alighting in a grove of oaks, it proclaimed in human language to the inhabitants of the district that they must establish there an oracle of jupiter. the other dove flew to the temple of jupiter ammon in the libyan oasis, and delivered a similar command there. another account is, that they were not doves, but priestesses, who were carried off from thebes in egypt by the phoenicians, and set up oracles at the oasis and dodona. the responses of the oracle were given from the trees, by the branches rustling in the wind, the sounds being interpreted by the priests. but the most celebrated of the grecian oracles was that of apollo at delphi, a city built on the slopes of parnassus in phocis. it had been observed at a very early period that the goats feeding on parnassus were thrown into convulsions when they approached a certain long deep cleft in the side of the mountain. this was owing to a peculiar vapor arising out of the cavern, and one of the goatherds was induced to try its effects upon himself. inhaling the intoxicating air, he was affected in the same manner as the cattle had been, and the inhabitants of the surrounding country, unable to explain the circumstance, imputed the convulsive ravings to which he gave utterance while under the power of the exhalations to a divine inspiration. the fact was speedily circulated widely, and a temple was erected on the spot. the prophetic influence was at first variously attributed to the goddess earth, to neptune, themis, and others, but it was at length assigned to apollo, and to him alone. a priestess was appointed whose office it was to inhale the hallowed air, and who was named the pythia. she was prepared for this duty by previous ablution at the fountain of castalia, and being crowned with laurel was seated upon a tripod similarly adorned, which was placed over the chasm whence the divine afflatus proceeded. her inspired words while thus situated were interpreted by the priests. oracle of trophonius besides the oracles of jupiter and apollo, at dodona and delphi, that of trophonius in boeotia was held in high estimation. trophonius and agamedes were brothers. they were distinguished architects, and built the temple of apollo at delphi, and a treasury for king hyrieus. in the wall of the treasury they placed a stone, in such a manner that it could be taken out; and by this means, from time to time, purloined the treasure. this amazed hyrieus, for his locks and seals were untouched, and yet his wealth continually diminished. at length he set a trap for the thief and agamedes was caught. trophonias, unable to extricate him, and fearing that when found he would be compelled by torture to discover his accomplice, cut off his head. trophonius himself is said to have been shortly afterwards swallowed up by the earth. the oracle of trophonius was at lebadea in boeotia. during a great drought the boeotians, it is said, were directed by the god at delphi to seek aid of trophonius at lebadea. they came thither, but could find no pracle. one of them, however, happening to see a swarm of bees, followed them to a chasm in the earth, which proved to be the place sought. peculiar ceremonies were to be performed by the person who came to consult the oracle. after these preliminaries, he descended into the cave by a narrow passage. this place could be entered only in the night. the person returned from the cave by the same narrow passage, bat walking backwards. he appeared melancholy and defected; and hence the proverb which was applied to a person low- spirited and gloomy, "he has been consulting the oracle of trophonius." oracle of aesculapius there were numerous oracles of aesculapius, but the most celebrated one was at epidaurus. here the sick sought responses and the recovery of their health by sleeping in the temple. it has been inferred from the accounts that have come down to us that the treatment of the sick resembled what is now called animal magnetism or mesmerism. serpents 'were sacred to aesculapius, probably because of a superstition that those animals have a faculty of renewing their youth by a change of skin. the worship of aesculapius was introduced into rome in a time of great sickness, and an embassy sent to the temple of epidaurus to entreat the aid of the god. aesculapius was propitious, and on the return of the ship accompanied it in the form of a serpent. arriving in the river tiber, the serpent glided from the vessel and took possession of an island in the river, and a temple was there erected to his honor. oracle of apis at memphis the sacred bull apis gave answer to those who consulted him by the manner in which he received or rejected what was presented to him. if the bull refused food from the hand of the inquirer it was considered an unfavorable sign, and the contrary when he received it. it has been a question whether oracular responses ought to be ascribed to mere human contrivance or to the agency of evil spirits. the latter opinion has been most general in past ages. a third theory has been advanced since the phenomena of mesmerism have attracted attention, that something like the mesmeric trance was induced in the pythoness, and the faculty of clairvoyance really called into action. another question is as to the time when the pagan oracles ceased to give responses. ancient christian writers assert that they became silent at the birth of christ, and were heard no more after that date. milton adopts, this view in his "hymn on the mativity," and in lines of solemn and elevated beauty pictures the consternation of the heathen idols at the advent of the saviour: "the oracles are dumb; no voice or hideous hum rings through the arched roof in words deceiving. apollo from his shrine can no more divine, with hollow shriek the steep of delphos heaving. no nightly trance or breathed spell inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell" in cowper's poem of "yardley oak" there are some beautiful mythological allusions. the former of the two following is to the fable of castor and pollux; the latter is more appropriate to our present subject. addressing the acorn he says: "thou fell'st mature; and in the loamy clod, swelling with vegetative force instinct, didst burst thine, as theirs the fabled twins now stars; twor lobes protruding, paired exact; a leaf succeede and another leaf, and, all the elements thy puny growth fostering propitious, thou becam'st a twig. who lived when thou wast such? of couldst thou speak, as in dodona once thy kindred trees oracular, i would not curious ask the future, best unknown, but at thy mouth inquisitive, the less ambiguous past." tennyson, in his "talking oak," alludes to the oaks of dodona in these lines: and i will work in prose and rhyme, and praise thee more in both than bard has honored beech or lime, or that thessalian growth in which the swarthy ring-dove sat and mystic sentence spoke; etc. byron alludes to the oracle of delphi where, speaking of rousseau, whose writings he conceives did much to bring on the french revolution, he says: "for the, he was inspired, and from him came, as from the pythian's mystic cave of yore, those oracles which set the world in flame, nor ceased to burn till kingdoms were no more." chapter xxxv origin of mythology--statues of gods and goddesses--poets of mythology origins of mythology having reached the close of our series of stories of pagan mythology, and inquiry suggests itself. "whence came these stories? have they a foundation in truth or are they simply dreams of the imagination?" philosophers have suggested various theories on the subject; and . the scriptural theory; according to which all mythological legends are derived from the narratives of scripture, though the real facts have been disguised and altered. thus deucalion is only another name for noah, hercules for samson, arion for jonah, etc. sir walter raleigh, in his "history of the world," says, "jubal, tubal, and tubal-cain were mercury, vulcan, and apollo, inventors of pasturage, smithing, and music. the dragon which kept the golden apples was the serpent that beguiled eve. nimrod's tower was the attempt of the giants against heaven." there are doubtless many curious coincidences like these, but the theory cannot without extravagance be pushed so far as to account for any great proportion of the stories. . the historical theory; according to which all the persons mentioned in mythology were once real human beings, and the legends and fabulous traditions relating to them are merely the additions and embellishments of later times. thus the story of aeolus, the king and god of the winds, is supposed to have risen from the fact that aeolus was the ruler of some islands in the tyrrhenian sea, where he reigned as a just and pious king, and taught the natives the use of sails for ships, and how to tell from the signs of the atmosphere the changes of the weather and the winds. cadmus, who, the legend says, sowed the earth with dragon's teeth, from which sprang a crop of armed men, was in fact an emigrant from phoenicia, and brought with him into greece the knowledge of the letters of the alphabet, which he taught to the natives. from these rudiments of learning sprung civilization, which the poets have always been prone to describe as a deterioration of man's first estate, the golden age of innocence and simplicity. . the allegorical theory supposes that all the myths of the ancients were allegorical and symbolical, and contained some moral, religious, or philosophical truth or historical fact, under the form of an allegory, but came in process of time to be understood literally. thus saturn, who devours his own children, is the same power whom the greeks called cronos (time), which may truly be said to destroy whatever it has brought into existence. the story of io is interpreted in a similar manner. io is the moon, and argus the starry sky, which, as it were, keeps sleepless watch over her. the fabulous wanderings of io represent the continual revolutions of the moon, which also suggested to milton the same idea. "to behold the wandering moon riding near her highest noon, like one that had been led astray in the heaven's wide, pathless way." --il penseroso. . the physical theory; according to which the elements of air, fire, and water were originally the objects of religious adoration, and the principal deities were personifications of the powers of nature. the transition was easy from a personification of the elements to the notion of supernatural beings presiding over and governing the different objects of nature. the greeks, whose imagination was lively, peopled all nature with invisible beings, and supposed that every object, from the sun and sea to the smallest fountain and rivulet, was under the care of some particular divinity. wordsworth, in his "excursion," has beautifully developed this view of grecian mythology: "in that fair clime the lonely herdsman, stretched on the soft grass through half a summer's day, with music lulled his indolent repose; and, in some fit of weariness, if he, when his own breath was silent, chanced to hear a distant strain far sweeter than the sounds which his poor skill could make, his fancy fetched even from the blazing chariot of the sun a beardless youth who touched a golden lute, and filled the illumined groves with ravishment. the mighty hunter, lifting up his eyes toward the crescent moon, with grateful heart called on the lovely wanderer who bestowed that timely light to share his joyous sport; and hence a beaming goddess with her nymphs across the lawn and through the darksome grove (not unaccompanied with tuneful notes by echo multiplied from rock or cave) swept in the storm of chase, as moon and stars glance rapidly along the clouded heaven when winds are blowing strong. the traveller slaked his thirst from rill or gushing fount, and thanked the naiad. sunbeams upon distant hills gliding apace with shadows in their train, might with small help from fancy, be transformed into fleet oreads sporting visibly. the zephyrs, fanning, as they passed, their wings, lacked not for love fair objects whom they wooed with gentle whisper. withered boughs grotesque, stripped of their leaves and twigs by hoary age, from depth of shaggy covert peeping forth in the low vale, or on steep mountain side; and sometimes intermixed with stirring horns of the live deer, or goat's depending beard; these were the lurking satyrs, wild brood of gamesome deities; or pan himself, that simple shepherd's awe-inspiring god." all the theories which have been mentioned are true to a certain extent. it would therefore be more correct to say that the mythology of a nation has sprung from all these sources combined than from any one in particular. we may add also that there are many myths which have arisen from the desire of man to account for those natural phenomena which he cannot understand; and not a few have had their rise from a similar desire of giving a reason for the names of places and persons. statues of the gods to adequately represent to the eye the ideas intended to be conveyed to the mind under the several names of deities was a task which called into exercise the highest powers of genius and art. of the many attempts four have been most celebrated, the first two known to us only by the descriptions of the ancients, the others still extant and the acknowledged masterpieces of the sculptor's art. the olympian jupiter the statue of the olympian jupiter by phidias was considered the highest achievement of this department of grecian art. it was of colossal dimensions, and was what the ancients called "chryselephantine;" that is, composed of ivory and gold; the parts representing flesh being of ivory laid on a core of wood or stone, while the drapery and other ornaments were of gold. the height of the figure was forty feet, on a pedestal twelve feet high. the god was represented seated on his throne. his brows were crowned with a wreath of olive, and he held in his right hand a sceptre, and in his left a statue of victory. the throne was of cedar, adorned with gold and precious stones. the idea which the artist essayed to embody was that of the supreme deity of the hellenic (grecian) nation, enthroned as a conqueror, in perfect majesty and repose, and ruling with a nod the subject world. phidias avowed that he took his idea from the representation which homer gives in the first book of the "iliad," in the passage thus translated by pope: "he spoke and awful bends his sable brows, shakes his ambrosial curls and gives the nod, the stamp of fate and sanction of the god. high heaven with reverence the dread signal took, and all olympus to the centre shook." [footnote: cowper's version is less elegant, but truer to the original: "he ceased, and under his dark brows the nod vouchsafed of confirmation. all around the sovereign's everlasting head his curls ambrosial shook, and the huge mountain reeled." it may interest our readers to see how this passage appears in another famous version, that which was issued under the name of tickell, contemporaneously with pope's, and which, being by many attributed to addison, led to the quarrel which ensued between addison and pope: "this said, his kingly brow the sire inclined; the large black curls fell awful from behind, thick shadowing the stern forehead of the god; olympus trembled at the almighty nod."] the minerva of the parthenon this was also the work of phidias. it stood in the parthenon, or temple of minerva at athens. the goddess was represented standing. in one hand she held a spear, in the other a statue of victory. her helmet, highly decorated, was surmounted by a sphinx. the statue was forty feet in height, and, like the jupiter, composed of ivory and gold. the eyes were of marble, and probably painted to represent the iris and pupil. the parthenon, in which this statue stood, was also constructed under the direction and superintendence of phidias. its exterior was enriched with sculptures, many of them from the hand of phidias. the elgin marbles, now in the british museum, are a part of them. both the jupiter and minerva of phidias are lost, but there is good ground to believe that we have, in several extant statues and busts, the artist's conceptions of the countenances of both. they are characterized by grave and dignified beauty, and freedom from any transient expression, which in the language of art is called repose. the venus de' medici the venus of the medici is so called from its having been in the possession of the princes of that name in rome when it first attracted attention, about two hundred years ago. an inscription on the base records it to be the work of cleomenes, an athenian sculptor of b.c., but the authenticity of the inscription is doubtful. there is a story that the artist was employed by public authority to make a statue exhibiting the perfection of female beauty, and to aid him in his task the most perfect forms the city could supply were furnished him for models. it is this which thomson alludes to in his "summer": "so stands the statue that enchants the world; so bending tries to veil the matchless boast, the mingled beauties of exulting greece." byron also alludes to this statue. speaking of the florence museum, he says: "there, too, the goddess loves in stone, and fills the air around with beauty;" etc. and in the next stanza, "blood, pulse, and breast confirm the dardan shepherd's prize." see this last allusion explained in chapter xxvii. the apollo belvedere the most highly esteemed of all the remains of ancient sculpture is the statue of apollo, called the belvedere, from the name of the apartment of the pope's palace at rome in which it was placed. the artist is unknown. it is supposed to be a work of roman art, of about the first century of our era. it is a standing figure, in marble, more than seven feet high, naked except for the cloak which is fastened around the neck and hangs over the extended left arm. it is supposed to represent the god in the moment when he has shot the arrow to destroy the monster python. (see chapter iii.) the victorious divinity is in the act of stepping forward. the left arm, which seems to have held the bow, is outstretched, and the head is turned in the same direction. in attitude and proportion the graceful majesty of the figure is unsurpassed. the effect is completed by the countenance, where on the perfection of youthful godlike beauty there dwells the consciousness of triumphant power. the diana a la biche the diana of the hind, in the palace of the louvre, may be considered the counterpart to the apollo belvedere. the attitude much resembles that of the apollo, the sizes correspond and also the style of execution. it is a work of the highest order, though by no means equal to the apollo. the attitude is that of hurried and eager motion, the face that of a huntress in the excitement of the chase. the left hand is extended over the forehead of the hind, which runs by her side, the right arm reaches backward over the shoulder to draw an arrow from the quiver. the poets of mythology homer, from whose poems of the "iliad" and "odyssey" we have taken the chief part of our chapters of the trojan war and the return of the grecians, is almost as mythical a personage as the heroes he celebrates. the traditionary story is that he was a wandering minstrel, blind and old, who travelled from place to place singing his lays to the music of his harp, in the courts of princes or the cottages of peasants, and dependent upon the voluntary offerings of his hearers for support. byron calls him "the blind old man of scio's rocky isle," and a well-known epigram, alluding to the uncertainty of the fact of his birthplace, says: "seven wealthy towns contend for homer dead, through which the living homer begged his bread." these seven were smyrna, scio, rhodes, colophon, salamis, argos, and athens. modern scholars have doubted whether the homeric poems are the work of any single mind. this arises from the difficulty of believing that poems of such length could have been committed to writing at so early an age as that usually assigned to these, an age earlier than the date of any remaining inscriptions or coins, and when no materials capable of containing such long productions were yet introduced into use. on the other hand it is asked how poems of such length could have been handed down from age to age by means of the memory alone. this is answered by the statement that there was a professional body of men, called rhapsodists, who recited the poems of others, and whose business it was to commit to memory and rehearse for pay the national and patriotic legends. the prevailing opinion of the learned, at this time, seems to be that the framework and much of the structure of the poems belong to homer, but that there are numerous interpolations and additions by other hands. the date assigned to homer, on the authority of herodotus, is b.c. virgil virgil, called also by his surname, maro, from whose poem of the "aeneid" we have taken the story of aeneas, was one of the great poets who made the reign of the roman emperor augustus so celebrated, under the name of the augustan age. virgil was born in mantua in the year b.c. his great poem is ranked next to those of homer, in the highest class of poetical composition, the epic. virgil is far inferior to homer in originality and invention, but superior to him in correctness and elegance. to critics of english lineage milton alone of modern poets seems worthy to be classed with these illustrious ancients. his poem of "paradise lost," from which we have borrowed so many illustrations, is in many respects equal, in some superior, to either of the great works of antiquity. the following epigram of dryden characterizes the three poets with as much truth as it is usual to find in such pointed criticism: "on milton "three poets in three different ages born, greece, italy, and england did adorn the first in loftiness of soul surpassed, the next in majesty, in both the last. the force of nature could no further go; to make a third she joined the other two." from cowper's "table talk": "ages elapsed ere homer's lamp appeared, and ages ere the mantuan swan was heard. to carry nature lengths unknown before, to give a milton birth, asked ages more. thus genius rose and set at ordered times, and shot a dayspring into distant climes, ennobling every region that he chose; he sunk in greece, in italy he rose, and, tedious years of gothic darkness past, emerged all splendor in our isle at last. thus lovely halcyons dive into the main, then show far off their shining plumes again." ovid ovid, often alluded to in poetry by his other name of naso, was born in the year b.c. he was educated for public life and held some offices of considerable dignity, but poetry was his delight, and he early resolved to devote himself to it. he accordingly sought the society of the contemporary poets, and was acquainted with horace and saw virgil, though the latter died when ovid was yet too young and undistinguished to have formed his acquaintance. ovid spent an easy life at rome in the enjoyment of a competent income. he was intimate with the family of augustus, the emperor, and it is supposed that some serious offence given to some member of that family was the cause of an event which reversed the poet's happy circumstances and clouded all the latter portion of his life. at the age of fifty he was banished from rome, and ordered to betake himself to tomi, on the borders of the black sea. here, among the barbarous people and in a severe climate, the poet, who had been accustomed to all the pleasures of a luxurious capital and the society of his most distinguished contemporaries, spent the last ten years of his life, worn out with grief and anxiety. his only consolation in exile was to address his wife and absent friends, and his letters were all poetical. though these poems (the "trista" and "letters from pontus") have no other topic than the poet's sorrows, his exquisite taste and fruitful invention have redeemed them from the charge of being tedious, and they are read with pleasure and even with sympathy. the two great works of ovid are his "metamorphoses" and his "fasti." they are both mythological poems, and from the former we have taken most of our stories of grecian and roman mythology. a late writer thus characterizes these poems: "the rich mythology of greece furnished ovid, as it may still furnish the poet, the painter, and the sculptor, with materials for his art. with exquisite taste, simplicity, and pathos he has narrated the fabulous traditions of early ages, and given to them that appearance of reality which only a master hand could impart. his pictures of nature are striking and true; he selects with care that which is appropriate; he rejects the superfluous; and when he has completed his work, it is neither defective nor redundant. the 'metamorphoses' are read with pleasure by youth, and are re-read in more advanced age with still greater delight. the poet ventured to predict that his poem would survive him, and be read wherever the roman name was known." the prediction above alluded to is contained in the closing lines of the "metamorphoses," of which we give a literal translation below: "and now i close my work, which not the ire of jove, nor tooth of time, nor sword, nor fire shall bring to nought. come when it will that day which o'er the body, not the mind, has sway, and snatch the remnant of my life away, my better part above the stars shall soar, and my renown endure forevermore. where'er the roman arms and arts shall spread there by the people shall my book be read; and, if aught true in poet's visions be, my name and fame have immortality." chapter xxxvi modern monsters--the phoenix--basilisk--unicorn--salamander modern monsters there is a set of imaginary beings which seem to have been the successors of the "gorgons, hydras, and chimeras dire" of the old superstitions, and, having no connection with the false gods of paganism, to have continued to enjoy an existence in the popular belief after paganism was superseded by christianity. they are mentioned perhaps by the classical writers, but their chief popularity and currency seem to have been in more modern times. we seek our accounts of them not so much in the poetry of the ancients as in the old natural history books and narrations of travellers. the accounts which we are about to give are taken chiefly from the penny cyclopedia. the phoenix ovid tells the story of the phoenix as follows: "most beings spring from other individuals; but there is a certain kind which reproduces itself. the assyrians call it the phoenix. it does not live on fruit or flowers, but on frankincense and odoriferous gums. when it has lived five hundred years, it builds itself a nest in the branches of an oak, or on the top of a palm tree. in this it collects cinnamon, and spikenard, and myrrh, and of these materials builds a pile on which it deposits itself, and dying, breathes out its last breath amidst odors. from the body of the parent bird, a young phoenix issues forth, destined to live as long a life as its predecessor. when this has grown up and gained sufficient strength, it lifts its nest from the tree (its own cradle and its parent's sepulchre), and carries it to the city of heliopolis in egypt, and deposits it in the temple of the sun." such is the account given by a poet. now let us see that of a philosophic historian. tacitus says, "in the consulship of paulus fabius (a.d. ) the miraculous bird known to the world by the name of the phoenix, after disappearing for a series of ages, revisited egypt. it was attended in its flight by a group of various birds, all attracted by the novelty, and gazing with wonder at so beautiful an appearance." he then gives an account of the bird, not varying materially from the preceding, but adding some details. "the first care of the young bird as soon as fledged, and able to trust to his wings, is to perform the obsequies of his father. but this duty is not undertaken rashly. he collects a quantity of myrrh, and to try his strength makes frequent excursions with a load on his back. when he has gained sufficient confidence in his own vigor, he takes up the body of his father and flies with it to the altar of the sun, where he leaves it to be consumed in flames of fragrance." other writers add a few particulars. the myrrh is compacted in the form of an egg, in which the dead phoenix is enclosed. from the mouldering flesh of the dead bird a worm springs, and this worm, when grown large, is transformed into a bird. herodotus describes the bird, though he says, "i have not seen it myself, except in a picture. part of his plumage is gold-colored, and part crimson; and he is for the most part very much like an eagle in outline and bulk." the first writer who disclaimed a belief in the existence of the phoenix was sir thomas browne, in his "vulgar errors," published in . he was replied to a few years later by alexander ross, who says, in answer to the objection of the phoenix so seldom making his appearance, "his instinct teaches him to keep out of the way of the tyrant of the creation, man, for if he were to be got at, some wealthy glutton would surely devour him, though there were no more in the world." dryden in one of his early poems has this allusion to the phoenix: "so when the new-born phoenix first is seen, her feathered subjects all adore their queen, and while she makes her progress through the east, from every grove her numerous train's increased; each poet of the air her glory sings, and round him the pleased audience clap their wings." milton, in "paradise lost," book v., compares the angel raphael descending to earth to a phoenix: "... down thither, prone in flight he speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing, now on the polar winds, then with quick fan winnows the buxom air; till within soar of towering eagles, to all the fowls he seems a phoenix, gazed by all; as that sole bird when, to enshrine his relics in the sun's bright temple, to egyptian thebes he flies." the cockatrice, or basilisk this animal was called the king of the serpents. in confirmation of his royalty, he was said to be endowed with a crest, or comb upon the head, constituting a crown. he was supposed to be produced from the egg of a cock hatched under toads or serpents. there were several species of this animal. one species burned up whatever they approached; a second were a kind of wandering medusa's heads, and their look caused an instant horror which was immediately followed by death. in shakspeare's play of "richard the third," lady anne, in answer to richard's compliment on her eyes, says, "would they were basilisk's, to strike thee dead!" the basilisks were called kings of serpents because all other serpents and snakes, behaving like good subjects, and wisely not wishing to be burned up or struck dead, fled the moment they heard the distant hiss of their king, although they might be in full feed upon the most delicious prey, leaving the sole enjoyment of the banquet to the royal monster. the roman naturalist pliny thus describes him: "he does not impel his body, like other serpents, by a multiplied flexion, but advances lofty and upright. he kills the shrubs, not only by contact, but by breathing on them, and splits the rocks, such power of evil is there in him." it was formerly believed that if killed by a spear from on horseback the power of the poison conducted through the weapon killed not only the rider, but the horse also. to this lucan alludes in these lines: "what though the moor the basilisk hath slain, and pinned him lifeless to the sandy plain, up through the spear the subtle venom flies, the hand imbibes it, and the victor dies." such a prodigy was not likely to be passed over in the legends of the saints. accordingly we find it recorded that a certain holy man, going to a fountain in the desert, suddenly beheld a basilisk. he immediately raised his eyes to heaven, and with a pious appeal to the deity laid the monster dead at his feet. these wonderful powers of the basilisk are attested by a host of learned persons, such as galen, avicenna, scaliger, and others. occasionally one would demur to some part of the tale while he admitted the rest. jonston, a learned physician, sagely remarks, "i would scarcely believe that it kills with its look, for who could have seen it and lived to tell the story?" the worthy sage was not aware that those who went to hunt the basilisk of this sort took with them a mirror, which reflected back the deadly glare upon its author, and by a kind of poetical justice slew the basilisk with his own weapon. but what was to attack this terrible and unapproachable monster? there is an old saying that "everything has its enemy"--and the cockatrice quailed before the weasel. the basilisk might look daggers, the weasel cared not, but advanced boldly to the conflict. when bitten, the weasel retired for a moment to eat some rue, which was the only plant the basilisks could not wither, returned with renewed strength and soundness to the charge, and never left the enemy till he was stretched dead on the plain. the monster, too, as if conscious of the irregular way in which he came into the world, was supposed to have a great antipathy to a cock; and well he might, for as soon as he heard the cock crow he expired. the basilisk was of some use after death. thus we read that its carcass was suspended in the temple of apollo, and in private houses, as a sovereign remedy against spiders, and that it was also hung up in the temple of diana, for which reason no swallow ever dared enter the sacred place. the reader will, we apprehend, by this time have had enough of absurdities, but still we can imagine his anxiety to know what a cockatrice was like. the following is from aldrovandus, a celebrated naturalist of the sixteenth century, whose work on natural history, in thirteen folio volumes, contains with much that is valuable a large proportion of fables and inutilities. in particular he is so ample on the subject of the cock and the bull that from his practice, all rambling, gossiping tales of doubtful credibility are called cock and bull stories. aldrovandus, however, deserves our respect and esteem as the founder of a botanic garden, and as a pioneer in the now prevalent custom of making scientific collections for purposes of investigation and research. shelley, in his "ode to naples," full of the enthusiasm excited by the intelligence of the proclamation of a constitutional government at naples, in , thus uses an allusion to the basilisk: "what though cimmerian anarchs dare blaspheme freedom and thee? a new actaeon's error shall theirs have been,--devoured by their own hounds! be thou like the imperial basilisk, killing thy foe with unapparent wounds! gaze on oppression, till at that dread risk, aghast she pass from the earth's disk. fear not, but gaze,--for freemen mightier grow, and slaves more feeble, gazing on their foe." the unicorn pliny, the roman naturalist, out of whose account of the unicorn most of the modern unicorns have been described and figured, records it as "a very ferocious beast, similar in the rest of its body to a horse, with the head of a deer, the feet of an elephant, the tail of a boar, a deep, bellowing voice, and a single black horn, two cubits in length, standing out in the middle of its forehead." he adds that "it cannot be taken alive;" and some such excuse may have been necessary in those days for not producing the living animal upon the arena of the amphitheatre. the unicorn seems to have been a sad puzzle to the hunters, who hardly knew how to come at so valuable a piece of game. some described the horn as movable at the will of the animal, a kind of small sword, in short, with which no hunter who was not exceedingly cunning in fence could have a chance. others maintained that all the animal's strength lay in its horn, and that when hard pressed in pursuit, it would throw itself from the pinnacle of the highest rocks horn foremost, so as to pitch upon it, and then quietly march off not a whit the worse for its fall. but it seems they found out how to circumvent the poor unicorn at last. they discovered that it was a great lover of purity and innocence, so they took the field with a young virgin, who was placed in the unsuspecting admirer's way. when the unicorn spied her, he approached with all reverence, couched beside her, and laying his head in her lap, fell asleep. the treacherous virgin then gave a signal, and the hunters made in and captured the simple beast. modern zoologists, disgusted as they well may be with such fables as these, disbelieve generally the existence of the unicorn. yet there are animals bearing on their heads a bony protuberance more or less like a horn, which may have given rise to the story. the rhinoceros horn, as it is called, is such a protuberance, though it does not exceed a few inches in height, and is far from agreeing with the descriptions of the horn of the unicorn. the nearest approach to a horn in the middle of the forehead is exhibited in the bony protuberance on the forehead of the giraffe; but this also is short and blunt, and is not the only horn of the animal, but a third horn, standing in front of the two others. in fine, though it would be presumptuous to deny the existence of a one-horned quadruped other than the rhinoceros, it may be safely stated that the insertion of a long and solid horn in the living forehead of a horse-like or deer-like animal is as near an impossibility as anything can be. the salamander the following is from the "life of benvenuto cellini," an italian artist of the sixteenth century, written by himself: "when i was about five years of age, my father, happening to be in a little room in which they had been washing, and where there was a good fire of oak burning, looked into the flames and saw a little animal resembling a lizard, which could live in the hottest part of that element. instantly perceiving what it was, he called for my sister and me, and after he had shown us the creature, he gave me a box on the ear. i fell a-crying, while he, soothing me with caresses, spoke these words: 'my dear child, i do not give you that blow for any fault you have committed, but that you may recollect that the little creature you see in the fire is a salamander; such a one as never was beheld before to my knowledge.' so saying he embraced me, and gave me some money." it seems unreasonable to doubt a story of which signor cellini was both an eye and ear witness. add to which the authority of numerous sage philosophers, at the head of whom are aristotle and pliny, affirms this power of the salamander. according to them, the animal not only resists fire, but extinguishes it, and when he sees the flame charges it as an enemy which he well knows how to vanquish. that the skin of an animal which could resist the action of fire should be considered proof against that element is not to be wondered at. we accordingly find that a cloth made of the skin of salamanders (for there really is such an animal, a kind of lizard) was incombustible, and very valuable for wrapping up such articles as were too precious to be intrusted to any other envelopes. these fire-proof cloths were actually produced, said to be made of salamander's wool, though the knowing ones detected that the substance of which they were composed was asbestos, a mineral, which is in fine filaments capable of being woven into a flexible cloth. the foundation of the above fables is supposed to be the fact that the salamander really does secrete from the pores of his body a milky juice, which when he is irritated is produced in considerable quantity, and would doubtless, for a few moments, defend the body from fire. then it is a hibernating animal, and in winter retires to some hollow tree or other cavity, where it coils itself up and remains in a torpid state till the spring again calls it forth. it may therefore sometimes be carried with the fuel to the fire, and wake up only time enough to put forth all its faculties for its defence. its viscous juice would do good service, and all who profess to have seen it, acknowledge that it got out of the fire as fast as its legs could carry it; indeed, too fast for them ever to make prize of one, except in one instance, and in that one the animal's feet and some parts of its body were badly burned. dr. young, in the "night thoughts," with more quaintness than good taste, compares the sceptic who can remain unmoved in the contemplation of the starry heavens to a salamander unwarmed in the fire: "an undevout astronomer is mad! "o, what a genius must inform the skies! and is lorenzo's salamander-heart cold and untouched amid these sacred fires?" chapter xxxvii eastern mythology--zoroaster--hindu mythology--castes--buddha-- grand lama zoroaster our knowledge of the religion of the ancient persians is principally derived from the zendavesta, or sacred books of that people. zoroaster was the founder of their religion, or rather the reformer of the religion which preceded him. the time when he lived is doubtful, but it is certain that his system became the dominant religion of western asia from the time of cyrus ( b.c.) to the conquest of persia by alexander the great. under the macedonian monarchy the doctrines of zoroaster appear to have been considerably corrupted by the introduction of foreign opinions, but they afterwards recovered their ascendency. zoroaster taught the existence of a supreme being, who created two other mighty beings and imparted to them as much of his own nature as seemed good to him. of these, ormuzd (called by the greeks oromasdes) remained faithful to his creator, and was regarded as the source of all good, while ahriman (arimanes) rebelled, and became the author of all evil upon the earth. ormuzd created man and supplied him with all the materials of happiness; but ahriman marred this happiness by introducing evil into the world, and creating savage beasts and poisonous reptiles and plants. in consequence of this, evil and good are now mingled together in every part of the world, and the followers of good and evil--the adherents of ormuzd and ahriman--carry on incessant war. but this state of things will not last forever. the time will come when the adherents of ormuzd shall everywhere be victorious, and ahriman and his followers be consigned to darkness forever. the religious rites of the ancient persians were exceedingly simple. they used neither temples, altars, nor statues, and performed their sacrifices on the tops of mountains. they adored fire, light, and the sun as emblems of ormuzd, the source of all light and purity, but did not regard them as independent deities. the religious rites and ceremonies were regulated by the priests, who were called magi. the learning of the magi was connected with astrology and enchantment, in which they were so celebrated that their name was applied to all orders of magicians and enchanters. wordsworth thus alludes to the worship of the persians: "... the persian,--zealous to reject altar and image, and the inclusive walls and roofs of temples built by human hands,-- the loftiest heights ascending, from their tops, with myrtle-wreathed tiara on his brows, presented sacrifice to moon and stars, and to the winds and mother elements, and the whole circle of the heavens, for him a sensitive existence and a god." --excursion, book iv. in "childe harold" byron speaks thus of the persian worship: "not vainly did the early persian make his altar the high places and the peak of earth-o'er-gazing mountains, and thus take a fit and unwalled temple, there to seek the spirit, in whose honor shrines are weak, upreared of human hands. come and compare columns and idol-dwellings, goth or greek, with nature's realms of worship, earth and air, nor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy prayer." iii., . the religion of zoroaster continued to flourish even after the introduction of christianity, and in the third century was the dominant faith of the east, till the rise of the mahometan power and the conquest of persia by the arabs in the seventh century, who compelled the greater number of the persians to renounce their ancient faith. those who refused to abandon the religion of their ancestors fled to the deserts of kerman and to hindustan, where they still exist under the name of parsees, a name derived from pars, the ancient name of persia. the arabs call them guebers, from an arabic word signifying unbelievers. at bombay the parsees are at this day a very active, intelligent, and wealthy class. for purity of life, honesty, and conciliatory manners, they are favorably distinguished. they have numerous temples to fire, which they adore as the symbol of the divinity. the persian religion makes the subject of the finest tale in moore's "lalla rookh," the "fire worshippers." the gueber chief says, "yes! i am of that impious race, those slaves of fire, that morn and even hail their creator's dwelling-place among the living lights of heaven; yes! i am of that outcast crew to iran and to vengeance true, who curse the hour your arabs came to desecrate our shrines of flame, and swear before god's burning eye, to break our country's chains or die." hindu mythology the religion of the hindus is professedly founded on the vedas. to these books of their scripture they attach the greatest sanctity, and state that brahma himself composed them at the creation. but the present arrangement of the vedas is attributed to the sage vyasa, about five thousand years ago. the vedas undoubtedly teach the belief of one supreme god. the name of this deity is brahma. his attributes are represented by the three personified powers of creation, preservation, and destruction, which under the respective names of brahma, vishnu, and siva form the trimurti or triad of principal hindu gods. of the inferior gods the most important are: . indra, the god of heaven, of thunder, lightning, storm, and rain; . agni, the god of fire; . yama, the god of the infernal regions; . surya, the god of the sun. brahma is the creator of the universe, and the source from which all the individual deities have sprung, and into which all will ultimately be absorbed. "as milk changes to curd, and water to ice, so is brahma variously transformed and diversified, without aid of exterior means of any sort." the human soul, according to the vedas, is a portion of the supreme ruler, as a spark is of the fire. vishnu vishnu occupies the second place in the triad of the hindus, and is the personification of the preserving principle. to protect the world in various epochs of danger, vishnu descended to the earth in different incarnations, or bodily forms, which descents are called avatars. they are very numerous, but ten are more particularly specified. the first avatar was as matsya, the fish, under which form vishnu preserved manu, the ancestor of the human race, during a universal deluge. the second avatar was in the form of a tortoise, which form he assumed to support the earth when the gods were churning the sea for the beverage of immortality, amrita. we may omit the other avatars, which were of the same general character, that is, interpositions to protect the right or to punish wrong-doers, and come to the ninth, which is the most celebrated of the avatars of vishnu, in which he appeared in the human form of krishna, an invincible warrior, who by his exploits relieved the earth from the tyrants who oppressed it. buddha is by the followers of the brahmanical religion regarded as a delusive incarnation of vishnu, assumed by him in order to induce the asuras, opponents of the gods, to abandon the sacred ordinances of the vedas, by which means they lost their strength and supremacy. kalki is the name of the tenth avatar, in which vishnu will appear at the end of the present age of the world to destroy all vice and wickedness, and to restore mankind to virtue and purity. siva siva is the third person of the hindu triad. he is the personification of the destroying principle. though the third name, he is, in respect to the number of his worshippers and the extension of his worship, before either of the others. in the puranas (the scriptures of the modern hindu religion) no allusion is made to the original power of this god as a destroyer; that power not being to be called into exercise till after the expiration of twelve millions of years, or when the universe will come to an end; and mahadeva (another name for siva) is rather the representative of regeneration than of destruction. the worshippers of vishnu and siva form two sects, each of which proclaims the superiority of its favorite deity, denying the claims of the other, and brahma, the creator, having finished his work, seems to be regarded as no longer active, and has now only one temple in india, while mahadeva and vishnu have many. the worshippers of vishnu are generally distinguished by a greater tenderness for life, and consequent abstinence from animal food, and a worship less cruel than that of the followers of siva. juggernaut whether the worshippers of juggernaut are to be reckoned among the followers of vishnu or siva, our authorities differ. the temple stands near the shore, about three hundred miles south-west of calcutta. the idol is a carved block of wood, with a hideous face, painted black, and a distended blood-red mouth. on festival days the throne of the image is placed on a tower sixty feet high, moving on wheels. six long ropes are attached to the tower, by which the people draw it along. the priests and their attendants stand round the throne on the tower, and occasionally turn to the worshippers with songs and gestures. while the tower moves along numbers of the devout worshippers throw themselves on the ground, in order to be crushed by the wheels, and the multitude shout in approbation of the act, as a pleasing sacrifice to the idol. every year, particularly at two great festivals in march and july, pilgrims flock in crowds to the temple. not less than seventy or eighty thousand people are said to visit the place on these occasions, when all castes eat together. castes the division of the hindus into classes or castes, with fixed occupations, existed from the earliest times. it is supposed by some to have been founded upon conquest, the first three castes being composed of a foreign race, who subdued the natives of the country and reduced them to an inferior caste. others trace it to the fondness of perpetuating, by descent from father to son, certain offices or occupations. the hindu tradition gives the following account of the origin of the various castes: at the creation brahma resolved to give the earth inhabitants who should be direct emanations from his own body. accordingly from his mouth came forth the eldest born, brahma (the priest), to whom he confided the four vedas; from his right arm issued shatriya (the warrior), and from his left, the warrior's wife. his thighs produced vaissyas, male and female (agriculturists and traders), and lastly from his feet sprang sudras (mechanics and laborers). the four sons of brahma, so significantly brought into the world, became the fathers of the human race, and heads of their respective castes. they were commanded to regard the four vedas as containing all the rules of their faith, and all that was necessary to guide them in their religious ceremonies. they were also commanded to take rank in the order of their birth, the brahmans uppermost, as having sprung from the head of brahma. a strong line of demarcation is drawn between the first three castes and the sudras. the former are allowed to receive instruction from the vedas, which is not permitted to the sudras. the brahmans possess the privilege of teaching the vedas, and were in former times in exclusive possession of all knowledge. though the sovereign of the country was chosen from the shatriya class, also called rajputs, the brahmans possessed the real power, and were the royal counsellors, the judges and magistrates of the country; their persons and property were inviolable; and though they committed the greatest crimes, they could only be banished from the kingdom. they were to be treated by sovereigns with the greatest respect, for "a brahman, whether learned or ignorant, is a powerful divinity." when the brahman arrives at years of maturity it becomes his duty to marry. he ought to be supported by the contributions of the rich, and not to be obliged to gain his subsistence by any laborious or productive occupation. but as all the brahmans could not be maintained by the working classes of the community, it was found necessary to allow them to engage in productive employments. we need say little of the two intermediate classes, whose rank and privileges may be readily inferred from their occupations. the sudras or fourth class are bound to servile attendance on the higher classes, especially the brahmans, but they may follow mechanical occupations and practical arts, as painting and writing, or become traders or husbandmen. consequently they sometimes grow rich, and it will also sometimes happen that brahmans become poor. that fact works its usual consequence, and rich sudras sometimes employ poor brahmans in menial occupations. there is another class lower even than the sudras, for it is not one of the original pure classes, but springs from an unauthorized union of individuals of different castes. these are the pariahs, who are employed in the lowest services and treated with the utmost severity. they are compelled to do what no one else can do without pollution. they are not only considered unclean themselves, but they render unclean everything they touch. they are deprived of all civil rights, and stigmatized by particular laws regulating their mode of life, their houses, and their furniture. they are not allowed to visit the pagodas or temples of the other castes, but have their own pagodas and religious exercises. they are not suffered to enter the houses of the other castes; if it is done incautiously or from necessity, the place must be purified by religious ceremonies. they must not appear at public markets, and are confined to the use of particular wells, which they are obliged to surround with bones of animals, to warn others against using them. they dwell in miserable hovels, distant from cities and villages, and are under no restrictions in regard to food, which last is not a privilege, but a mark of ignominy, as if they were so degraded that nothing could pollute them. the three higher castes are prohibited entirely the use of flesh. the fourth is allowed to use all kinds except beef, but only the lowest caste is allowed every kind of food without restriction. buddha buddha, whom the vedas represent as a delusive incarnation of vishnu, is said by his followers to have been a mortal sage, whose name was gautama, called also by the complimentary epithets of sakyasinha, the lion, and buddha, the sage. by a comparison of the various epochs assigned to his birth, it is inferred that he lived about one thousand years before christ. he was the son of a king; and when in conformity to the usage of the country he was, a few days after his birth, presented before the altar of a deity, the image is said to have inclined its head as a presage of the future greatness of the new-born prophet. the child soon developed faculties of the first order, and became equally distinguished by the uncommon beauty of his person. no sooner had he grown to years of maturity than he began to reflect deeply on the depravity and misery of mankind, and he conceived the idea of retiring from society and devoting himself to meditation. his father in vain opposed this design. buddha escaped the vigilance of his guards, and having found a secure retreat, lived for six years undisturbed in his devout contemplations. at the expiration of that period he came forward at benares as a religious teacher. at first some who heard him doubted of the soundness of his mind; but his doctrines soon gained credit, and were propagated so rapidly that buddha himself lived to see them spread all over india. he died at the age of eighty years. the buddhists reject entirely the authority of the vedas, and the religious observances prescribed in them and kept by the hindus. they also reject the distinction of castes, and prohibit all bloody sacrifices, and allow animal food. their priests are chosen from all classes; they are expected to procure their maintenance by perambulation and begging, and among other things it is their duty to endeavor to turn to some use things thrown aside as useless by others, and to discover the medicinal power of plants. but in ceylon three orders of priests are recognized; those of the highest order are usually men of high birth and learning, and are supported at the principal temples, most of which have been richly endowed by the former monarchs of the country. for several centuries after the appearance of buddha, his sect seems to have been tolerated by the brahmans, and buddhism appears to have penetrated the peninsula of hindustan in every direction, and to have been carried to ceylon, and to the eastern peninsula. but afterwards it had to endure in india a long-continued persecution, which ultimately had the effect of entirely abolishing it in the country where it had originated, but to scatter it widely over adjacent countries. buddhism appears to have been introduced into china about the year of our era. from china it was subsequently extended to corea, japan, and java. the grand lama it is a doctrine alike of the brahminical hindus and of the buddhist sect that the confinement of the human soul, an emanation of the divine spirit, in a human body, is a state of misery, and the consequence of frailties and sins committed during former existences. but they hold that some few individuals have appeared on this earth from time to time, not under the necessity of terrestrial existence, but who voluntarily descended to the earth to promote the welfare of mankind. these individuals have gradually assumed the character of reappearances of buddha himself, in which capacity the line is continued till the present day, in the several lamas of thibet, china, and other countries where buddhism prevails. in consequence of the victories of gengis khan and his successors, the lama residing in thibet was raised to the dignity of chief pontiff of the sect. a separate province was assigned to him as his own territory, and besides his spiritual dignity he became to a limited extent a temporal monarch. he is styled the dalai lama. the first christian missionaries who proceeded to thibet were surprised to find there in the heart of asia a pontifical court and several other ecclesiastical institutions resembling those of the roman catholic church. they found convents for priests and nuns; also processions and forms of religious worship, attended with much pomp and splendor; and many were induced by these similarities to consider lamaism as a sort of degenerated christianity. it is not improbable that the lamas derived some of these practices from the nestorian christians, who were settled in tartary when buddhism was introduced into thibet. prester john an early account, communicated probably by travelling merchants, of a lama or spiritual chief among the tartars, seems to have occasioned in europe the report of a presbyter or prester john, a christian pontiff resident in upper asia. the pope sent a mission in search of him, as did also louis ix. of france, some years later, but both missions were unsuccessful, though the small communities of nestorian christians, which they did find, served to keep up the belief in europe that such a personage did exist somewhere in the east. at last in the fifteenth century, a portuguese traveller, pedro covilham, happening to hear that there was a christian prince in the country of the abessines (abyssinia), not far from the red sea, concluded that this must be the true prester john. he accordingly went thither, and penetrated to the court of the king, whom he calls negus. milton alludes to him in "paradise lost," book xi., where, describing adam's vision of his descendants in their various nations and cities, scattered over the face of the earth, he says,-- "... nor did his eyes not ken th' empire of negus, to his utmost port, ercoco, and the less maritime kings, mombaza and quiloa and melind." chapter xxxviii northern mythology--valhalla--the valkyrior northern mythology the stories which have engaged our attention thus far relate to the mythology of southern regions. but there is another branch of ancient superstitions which ought not to be entirely overlooked, especially as it belongs to the nations from which we, through our english ancestors, derive our origin. it is that of the northern nations, called scandinavians, who inhabited the countries now known as sweden, denmark, norway, and iceland. these mythological records are contained in two collections called the eddas, of which the oldest is in poetry and dates back to the year , the more modern or prose edda being of the date of . according to the eddas there was once no heaven above nor earth beneath, but only a bottomless deep, and a world of mist in which flowed a fountain. twelve rivers issued from this fountain, and when they had flowed far from their source, they froze into ice, and one layer accumulating over another, the great deep was filled up. southward from the world of mist was the world of light. from this flowed a warm wind upon the ice and melted it. the vapors rose in the air and formed clouds, from which sprang ymir, the frost giant and his progeny, and the cow audhumbla, whose milk afforded nourishment and food to the giant. the cow got nourishment by licking the hoar frost and salt from the ice. while she was one day licking the salt stones there appeared at first the hair of a man, on the second day the whole head, and on the third the entire form endowed with beauty, agility, and power. this new being was a god, from whom and his wife, a daughter of the giant race, sprang the three brothers odin, vili, and ve. they slew the giant ymir, and out of his body formed the earth, of his blood the seas, of his bones the mountains, of his hair the trees, of his skull the heavens, and of his brain clouds, charged with hail and snow. of ymir's eyebrows the gods formed midgard (mid earth), destined to become the abode of man. odin then regulated the periods of day and night and the seasons by placing in the heavens the sun and moon and appointing to them their respective courses. as soon as the sun began to shed its rays upon the earth, it caused the vegetable world to bud and sprout. shortly after the gods had created the world they walked by the side of the sea, pleased with their new work, but found that it was still incomplete, for it was without human beings. they therefore took an ash tree and made a man out of it, and they made a woman out of an elder, and called the man aske and the woman embla. odin then gave them life and soul, vili reason and motion, and ve bestowed upon them the senses, expressive features, and speech. midgard was then given them as their residence, and they became the progenitors of the human race. the mighty ash tree ygdrasill was supposed to support the whole universe. it sprang from the body of ymir, and had three immense roots, extending one into asgard (the dwelling of the gods), the other into jotunheim (the abode of the giants), and the third to niffleheim (the regions of darkness and cold). by the side of each of these roots is a spring, from which it is watered. the root that extends into asgard is carefully tended by the three norns, goddesses, who are regarded as the dispensers of fate. they are urdur (the past), verdandi (the present), skuld (the future). the spring at the jotunheim side is ymir's well, in which wisdom and wit lie hidden, but that of niffleheim feeds the adder nidhogge (darkness), which perpetually gnaws at the root. four harts run across the branches of the tree and bite the buds; they represent the four winds. under the tree lies ymir, and when he tries to shake off its weight the earth quakes. asgard is the name of the abode of the gods, access to which is only gained by crossing the bridge bifrost (the rainbow). asgard consists of golden and silver palaces, the dwellings of the gods, but the most beautiful of these is valhalla, the residence of odin. when seated on his throne he overlooks all heaven and earth. upon his shoulders are the ravens hugin and munin, who fly every day over the whole world, and on their return report to him all they have seen and heard. at his feet lie his two wolves, geri and freki, to whom odin gives all the meat that is set before him, for he himself stands in no need of food. mead is for him both food and drink. he invented the runic characters, and it is the business of the norns to engrave the runes of fate upon a metal shield. from odin's name, spelt woden, as it sometimes is, came wednesday, the name of the fourth day of the week. odin is frequently called alfadur (all-father), but this name is sometimes used in a way that shows that the scandinavians had an idea of a deity superior to odin, uncreated and eternal. of the joys of valhalla valhalla is the great hall of odin, wherein he feasts with his chosen heroes, all those who have fallen bravely in battle, for all who die a peaceful death are excluded. the flesh of the boar schrimnir is served up to them, and is abundant for all. for although this boar is cooked every morning, he becomes whole again every night. for drink the heroes are supplied abundantly with mead from the she-goat heidrum. when the heroes are not feasting they amuse themselves with fighting. every day they ride out into the court or field and fight until they cut each other in pieces. this is their pastime; but when meal time comes they recover from their wounds and return to feast in valhalla. the valkyrie the valkyrie are warlike virgins, mounted upon horses and armed with helmets and spears. odin, who is desirous to collect a great many heroes in valhalla to be able to meet the giants in a day when the final contest must come, sends down to every battle-field to make choice of those who shall be slain. the valkyrie are his messengers, and their name means "choosers of the slain." when they ride forth on their errand, their armor sheds a strange flickering light, which flashes up over the northern skies, making what men call the "aurora borealis," or "northern lights." [footnote: gray's ode, "the fatal sisters," is founded on this superstition.] of thor and the other gods thor, the thunderer, odin's eldest son, is the strongest of gods and men, and possesses three very precious things. the first is a hammer, which both the frost and the mountain giants know to their cost, when they see it hurled against them in the air, for it has split many a skull of their fathers and kindred. when thrown, it returns to his hand of its own accord. the second rare thing he possesses is called the belt of strength. when he girds it about him his divine might is doubled. the third, also very precious, is his iron gloves, which he puts on whenever he would use his mallet efficiently. from thor's name is derived our word thursday. frey is one of the most celebrated of the gods. he presides over rain and sunshine and all the fruits of the earth. his sister freya is the most propitious of the goddesses. she loves music, spring, and flowers, and is particularly fond of the elves (fairies). she is very fond of love ditties, and all lovers would do well to invoke her. bragi is the god of poetry, and his song records the deeds of warriors. his wife, iduna, keeps in a box the apples which the gods, when they feel old age approaching, have only to taste of to become young again. heimdall is the watchman of the gods, and is therefore placed on the borders of heaven to prevent the giants from forcing their way over the bridge bifrost (the rainbow). he requires less sleep than a bird, and sees by night as well as by day a hundred miles around him. so acute is his ear that no sound escapes him, for he can even hear the grass grow and the wool on a sheep's back. of loki and his progeny there is another deity who is described as the calumniator of the gods and the contriver of all fraud and mischief. his name is loki. he is handsome and well made, but of a very fickle mood and most evil disposition. he is of the giant race, but forced himself into the company of the gods, and seems to take pleasure in bringing them into difficulties, and in extricating them out of the danger by his cunning, wit, and skill. loki has three children. the first is the wolf fenris, the second the midgard serpent, the third hela (death), the gods were not ignorant that these monsters were growing up, and that they would one day bring much evil upon gods and men. so odin deemed it advisable to send one to bring them to him. when they came he threw the serpent into that deep ocean by which the earth is surrounded. but the monster had grown to such an enormous size that holding his tail in his mouth he encircles the whole earth. hela he cast into niffleheim, and gave her power over nine worlds or regions, into which she distributes those who are sent to her; that is, all who die of sickness or old age. her hall is called elvidner. hunger is her table, starvation her knife, delay her man, slowness her maid, precipice her threshold, care her bed, and burning anguish forms the hangings of the apartments. she may easily be recognized, for her body is half flesh color and half blue, and she has a dreadfully stern and forbidding countenance. the wolf fenris gave the gods a great deal of trouble before they succeeded in chaining him. he broke the strongest fetters as if they were made of cobwebs. finally the gods sent a messenger to the mountain spirits, who made for them the chain called gleipnir. it is fashioned of six things, viz., the noise made by the footfall of a cat, the beards of women, the roots of stones, the breath of fishes, the nerves (sensibilities) of bears, and the spittle of birds. when finished it was as smooth and soft as a silken string. but when the gods asked the wolf to suffer himself to be bound with this apparently slight ribbon, he suspected their design, fearing that it was made by enchantment. he therefore only consented to be bound with it upon condition that one of the gods put his hand in his (fenris's) mouth as a pledge that the band was to be removed again. tyr (the god of battles) alone had courage enough to do this. but when the wolf found that he could not break his fetters, and that the gods would not release him, he bit off tyr's hand, and he has ever since remained one-handed. how thor paid the mountain giant his wages once on a time, when the gods were constructing their abodes and had already finished midgard and valhalla, a certain artificer came and offered to build them a residence so well fortified that they should be perfectly safe from the incursions of the frost giants and the giants of the mountains. but he demanded for his reward the goddess freya, together with the sun and moon. the gods yielded to his terms, provided he would finish the whole work himself without any one's assistance, and all within the space of one winter. but if anything remained unfinished on the first day of summer he should forfeit the recompense agreed on. on being told these terms the artificer stipulated that he should be allowed the use of his horse svadilfari, and this by the advice of loki was granted to him. he accordingly set to work on the first day of winter, and during the night let his horse draw stone for the building. the enormous size of the stones struck the gods with astonishment, and they saw clearly that the horse did one-half more of the toilsome work than his master. their bargain, however, had been concluded, and confirmed by solemn oaths, for without these precautions a giant would not have thought himself safe among the gods, especially when thor should return from an expedition he had then undertaken against the evil demons. as the winter drew to a close, the building was far advanced, and the bulwarks were sufficiently high and massive to render the place impregnable. in short, when it wanted but three days to summer, the only part that remained to be finished was the gateway. then sat the gods on their seats of justice and entered into consultation, inquiring of one another who among them could have advised to give freya away, or to plunge the heavens in darkness by permitting the giant to carry away the sun and the moon. they all agreed that no one but loki, the author of so many evil deeds, could have given such bad counsel, and that he should be put to a cruel death if he did not contrive some way to prevent the artificer from completing his task and obtaining the stipulated recompense. they proceeded to lay hands on loki, who in his fright promised upon oath that, let it cost him what it would, he would so manage matters that the man should lose his reward. that very night when the man went with svadilfari for building stone, a mare suddenly ran out of a forest and began to neigh. the horse thereat broke loose and ran after the mare into the forest, which obliged the man also to run after his horse, and thus between one and another the whole night was lost, so that at dawn the work had not made the usual progress. the man, seeing that he must fail of completing his task, resumed his own gigantic stature, and the gods now clearly perceived that it was in reality a mountain giant who had come amongst them. feeling no longer bound by their oaths, they called on thor, who immediately ran to their assistance, and lifting up his mallet, paid the workman his wages, not with the sun and moon, and not even by sending him back to jotunheim, for with the first blow he shattered the giant's skull to pieces and hurled him headlong into niffleheim. the recovery of the hammer once upon a time it happened that thor's hammer fell into the possession of the giant thrym, who buried it eight fathoms deep under the rocks of jotunheim. thor sent loki to negotiate with thrym, but he could only prevail so far as to get the giant's promise to restore the weapon if freya would consent to be his bride. loki returned and reported the result of his mission, but the goddess of love was quite horrified at the idea of bestowing her charms on the king of the frost giants. in this emergency loki persuaded thor to dress himself in freya's clothes and accompany him to jotunheim. thrym received his veiled bride with due courtesy, but was greatly surprised at seeing her eat for her supper eight salmons and a full grown ox, besides other delicacies, washing the whole down with three tuns of mead. loki, however, assured him that she had not tasted anything for eight long nights, so great was her desire to see her lover, the renowned ruler of jotunheim. thrym had at length the curiosity to peep under his bride's veil, but started back in affright and demanded why freya's eyeballs glistened with fire. loki repeated the same excuse and the giant was satisfied. he ordered the hammer to be brought in and laid on the maiden's lap. thereupon thor threw off his disguise, grasped his redoubted weapon, and slaughtered thrym and all his followers. frey also possessed a wonderful weapon, a sword which would of itself spread a field with carnage whenever the owner desired it. frey parted with this sword, but was less fortunate than thor and never recovered it. it happened in this way: frey once mounted odin's throne, from whence one can see over the whole universe, and looking round saw far off in the giant's kingdom a beautiful maid, at the sight of whom he was struck with sudden sadness, insomuch that from that moment he could neither sleep, nor drink, nor speak. at last skirnir, his messenger, drew his secret from him, and undertook to get him the maiden for his bride, if he would give him his sword as a reward. frey consented and gave him the sword, and skirnir set off on his journey and obtained the maiden's promise that within nine nights she would come to a certain place and there wed frey. skirnir having reported the success of his errand, frey exclaimed: "long is one night, long are two nights, but how shall i hold out three? shorter hath seemed a month to me oft than of this longing time the half." so frey obtained gerda, the most beautiful of all women, for his wife, but he lost his sword. this story, entitled "skirnir for," and the one immediately preceding it, "thrym's quida," will be found poetically told in longfellow's "poets and poetry of europe." chapter xxxix thor's visit to jotunheim thor's visit to jotunheim, the giant's country one day the god thor, with his servant thialfi, and accompanied by loki, set out on a journey to the giant's country. thialfi was of all men the swiftest of foot. he bore thor's wallet, containing their provisions. when night came on they found themselves in an immense forest, and searched on all sides for a place where they might pass the night, and at last came to a very large hall, with an entrance that took the whole breadth of one end of the building. here they lay down to sleep, but towards midnight were alarmed by an earthquake which shook the whole edifice. thor, rising up, called on his companions to seek with him a place of safety. on the right they found an adjoining chamber, into which the others entered, but thor remained at the doorway with his mallet in his hand, prepared to defend himself, whatever might happen. a terrible groaning was heard during the night, and at dawn of day thor went out and found lying near him a huge giant, who slept and snored in the way that had alarmed them so. it is said that for once thor was afraid to use his mallet, and as the giant soon waked up, thor contented himself with simply asking his name. "my name is skrymir," said the giant, "but i need not ask thy name, for i know that thou art the god thor. but what has become of my glove?" thor then perceived that what they had taken overnight for a hall was the giant's glove, and the chamber where his two companions had sought refuge was the thumb. skrymir then proposed that they should travel in company, and thor consenting, they sat down to eat their breakfast, and when they had done, skrymir packed all the provisions into one wallet, threw it over his shoulder, and strode on before them, taking such tremendous strides that they were hard put to it to keep up with him. so they travelled the whole day, and at dusk skrymir chose a place for them to pass the night in under a large oak tree. skrymir then told them he would lie down to sleep. "but take ye the wallet," he added, "and prepare your supper." skrymir soon fell asleep and began to snore strongly; but when thor tried to open the wallet, he found the giant had tied it up so tight he could not untie a single knot. at last thor became wroth, and grasping his mallet with both hands he struck a furious blow on the giant's head. skrymir, awakening, merely asked whether a leaf had not fallen on his head, and whether they had supped and were ready to go to sleep. thor answered that they were just going to sleep, and so saying went and laid himself down under another tree. but sleep came not that night to thor, and when skrymir snored again so loud that the forest reechoed with the noise, he arose, and grasping his mallet launched it with such force at the giant's skull that it made a deep dint in it. skrymir, awakening, cried out, "what's the matter? are there any birds perched on this tree? i felt some moss from the branches fall on my head. how fares it with thee, thor?" but thor went away hastily, saying that he had just then awoke, and that as it was only midnight, there was still time for sleep. he, however, resolved that if he had an opportunity of striking a third blow, it should settle all matters between them. a little before daybreak he perceived that skrymir was again fast asleep, and again grasping his mallet, he dashed it with such violence that it forced its way into the giant's skull up to the handle. but skrymir sat up, and stroking his cheek said, "an acorn fell on my head. what! art thou awake, thor? me thinks it is time for us to get up and dress ourselves; but you have not now a long way before you to the city called utgard. i have heard you whispering to one another that i am not a man of small dimensions; but if you come to utgard you will see there many men much taller than i. wherefore, i advise you, when you come there, not to make too much of yourselves, for the followers of utgard-- loki will not brook the boasting of such little fellows as you are. you must take the road that leads eastward, mine lies northward, so we must part here." hereupon he threw his wallet over his shoulders and turned away from them into the forest, and thor had no wish to stop him or to ask for any more of his company. thor and his companions proceeded on their way, and towards noon descried a city standing in the middle of a plain. it was so lofty that they were obliged to bend their necks quite back on their shoulders in order to see to the top of it. on arriving they entered the city, and seeing a large palace before them with the door wide open, they went in, and found a number of men of prodigious stature, sitting on benches in the hall. going further, they came before the king, utgard-loki, whom they saluted with great respect. the king, regarding them with a scornful smile, said, "if i do not mistake me, that stripling yonder must be the god thor." then addressing himself to thor, he said, "perhaps thou mayst be more than thou appearest to be. what are the feats that thou and thy fellows deem yourselves skilled in, for no one is permitted to remain here who does not, in some feat or other, excel all other men?" "the feat that i know," said loki, "is to eat quicker than any one else, and in this i am ready to give a proof against any one here who may choose to compete with me." "that will indeed be a feat," said utgard-loki, "if thou performest what thou promisest, and it shall be tried forthwith." he then ordered one of his men who was sitting at the farther end of the bench, and whose name was logi, to come forward and try his skill with loki. a trough filled with meat having been set on the hall floor, loki placed himself at one end, and logi at the other, and each of them began to eat as fast as he could, until they met in the middle of the trough. but it was found that loki had only eaten the flesh, while his adversary had devoured both flesh and bone, and the trough to boot. all the company therefore adjudged that loki was vanquished. utgard-loki then asked what feat the young man who accompanied thor could perform. thialfi answered that he would run a race with any one who might be matched against him. the king observed that skill in running was something to boast of, but if the youth would win the match he must display great agility. he then arose and went with all who were present to a plain where there was good ground for running on, and calling a young man named hugi, bade him run a match with thialfi. in the first course hugi so much out-stripped his competitor that he turned back and met him not far from the starting place. then they ran a second and a third time, but thialfi met with no better success. utgard-loki then asked thor in what feats he would choose to give proofs of that prowess for which he was so famous. thor answered that he would try a drinking-match with any one. utgard-loki bade his cup-bearer bring the large horn which his followers were obliged to empty when they had trespassed in any way against the law of the feast. the cupbearer having presented it to thor, utgard-loki said, "whoever is a good drinker will empty that horn at a single draught, though most men make two of it, but the most puny drinker can do it in three." thor looked at the horn, which seemed of no extraordinary size though somewhat long; however, as he was very thirsty, he set it to his lips, and without drawing breath, pulled as long and as deeply as he could, that he might not be obliged to make a second draught of it; but when he set the horn down and looked in, he could scarcely perceive that the liquor was diminished. after taking breath, thor went to it again with all his might, but when he took the horn from his mouth, it seemed to him that he had drunk rather less than before, although the horn could now be carried without spilling. "how now, thor?" said utgard-loki; "thou must not spare thyself; if thou meanest to drain the horn at the third draught thou must pull deeply; and i must needs say that thou wilt not be called so mighty a man here as thou art at home if thou showest no greater prowess in other feats than methinks will be shown in this." thor, full of wrath, again set the horn to his lips, and did his best to empty it; but on looking in found the liquor was only a little lower, so he resolved to make no further attempt, but gave back the horn to the cup-bearer. "i now see plainly," said utgard-loki, "that thou art not quite so stout as we thought thee: but wilt thou try any other feat, though methinks thou art not likely to bear any prize away with thee hence." "what new trial hast thou to propose?" said thor. "we have a very trifling game here," answered utgard-loki, "in which we exercise none but children. it consists in merely lifting my cat from the ground; nor should i have dared to mention such a feat to the great thor if i had not already observed that thou art by no means what we took thee for." as he finished speaking, a large gray cat sprang on the hall floor. thor put his hand under the cat's belly and did his utmost to raise him from the floor, but the cat, bending his back, had, notwithstanding all thor's efforts, only one of his feet lifted up, seeing which thor made no further attempt. "this trial has turned out," said utgard-loki, "just as i imagined it would. the cat is large, but thor is little in comparison to our men." "little as ye call me," answered thor, "let me see who among you will come hither now i am in wrath and wrestle with me." "i see no one here," said utgard-loki, looking at the men sitting on the benches, "who would not think it beneath him to wrestle with thee; let somebody, however, call hither that old crone, my nurse elli, and let thor wrestle with her if he will. she has thrown to the ground many a man not less strong than this thor is." a toothless old woman then entered the hall, and was told by utgard-loki to take hold of thor. the tale is shortly told. the more thor tightened his hold on the crone the firmer she stood. at length after a very violent struggle thor began to lose his footing, and was finally brought down upon one knee. utgard-loki then told them to desist, adding that thor had now no occasion to ask any one else in the hall to wrestle with him, and it was also getting late; so he showed thor and his companions to their seats, and they passed the night there in good cheer. the next morning, at break of day, thor and his companions dressed themselves and prepared for their departure. utgard-loki ordered a table to be set for them, on which there was no lack of victuals or drink. after the repast utgard-loki led them to the gate of the city, and on parting asked thor how he thought his journey had turned out, and whether he had met with any men stronger than himself. thor told him that he could not deny but that he had brought great shame on himself. "and what grieves me most," he added, "is that ye will call me a person of little worth." "nay," said utgard-loki, "it behooves me to tell thee the truth, now thou art out of the city, which so long as i live and have my way thou shalt never enter again. and, by my troth, had i known beforehand that thou hadst so much strength in thee, and wouldst have brought me so near to a great mishap, i would not have suffered thee to enter this time. know then that i have all along deceived thee by my illusions; first in the forest, where i tied up the wallet with iron wire so that thou couldst not untie it. after this thou gavest me three blows with thy mallet; the first, though the least, would have ended my days had it fallen on me, but i slipped aside and thy blows fell on the mountain, where thou wilt find three glens, one of them remarkably deep. these are the dints made by thy mallet. i have made use of similar illusions in the contests you have had with my followers. in the first, loki, like hunger itself, devoured all that was set before him, but logi was in reality nothing else than fire, and therefore consumed not only the meat, bat the trough which held it. hugi, with whom thialfi contended in running, was thought, and it was impossible for thialfi to keep pace with that. when thou in thy turn didst attempt to empty the horn, thou didst perform, by my troth, a deed so marvellous that had i not seen it myself i should never have believed it. for one end of that horn reached the sea, which thou wast not aware of, but when thou comest to the shore thou wilt perceive how much the sea has sunk by thy draughts. thou didst perform a feat no less wonderful by lifting up the cat, and to tell thee the truth, when we saw that one of his paws was off the floor, we were all of us terror-stricken, for what thou tookest for a cat was in reality the midgard serpent that encompasseth the earth, and he was so stretched by thee that he was barely long enough to enclose it between his head and tail. thy wrestling with elli was also a most astonishing feat, for there was never yet a man, nor ever will be, whom old age, for such in fact was elli, will not sooner or later lay low. but now, as we are going to part, let me tell thee that it will be better for both of us if thou never come near me again, for shouldst thou do so, i shall again defend myself by other illusions, so that thou wilt only lose thy labor and get no fame from the contest with me." on hearing these words thor in a rage laid hold of his mallet and would have launched it at him, but utgard-loki had disappeared, and when thor would have returned to the city to destroy it, he found nothing around him but a verdant plain. chapter xl the death of baldur--the elves--runic letters--iceland--teutonic mythology--nibelungen lied the death of baldur baldur the good, having been tormented with terrible dreams indicating that his life was in peril, told them to the assembled gods, who resolved to conjure all things to avert from him the threatened danger. then frigga, the wife of odin, exacted an oath from fire and water, from iron and all other metals, from stones, trees, diseases, beasts, birds, poisons, and creeping things, that none of them would do any harm to baldur. odin, not satisfied with all this, and feeling alarmed for the fate of his son, determined to consult the prophetess angerbode, a giantess, mother of fenris, hela, and the midgard serpent. she was dead, and odin was forced to seek her in hela's dominions. this descent of odin forms the subject of gray's fine ode beginning,-- "uprose the king of men with speed and saddled straight his coal-black steed" but the other gods, feeling that what frigga had done was quite sufficient, amused themselves with using baldur as a mark, some hurling darts at him, some stones, while others hewed at him with their swords and battle-axes; for do what they would, none of them could harm him. and this became a favorite pastime with them and was regarded as an honor shown to baldur. but when loki beheld the scene he was sorely vexed that baldur was not hurt. assuming, therefore, the shape of a woman, he went to fensalir, the man- sion of frigga. that goddess, when she saw the pretended woman, inquired of her if she knew what the gods were doing at their meetings. she replied that they were throwing darts and stones at baldur, without being able to hurt him. "ay," said frigga, "neither stones, nor sticks, nor anything else can hurt baldur, for i have exacted an oath from all of them." "what," exclaimed the woman, "have all things sworn to spare baldur?" "all things," replied frigga, "except one little shrub that grows on the eastern side of valhalla, and is called mistletoe, and which i thought too young and feeble to crave an oath from." as soon as loki heard this he went away, and resuming his natural shape, cut off the mistletoe, and repaired to the place where the gods were assembled. there he found hodur standing apart, without partaking of the sports, on account of his blindness, and going up to him, said, "why dost thou not also throw something at baldur?" "because i am blind," answered hodur, "and see not where baldur is, and have, moreover, nothing to throw." "come, then," said loki, "do like the rest, and show honor to baldur by throwing this twig at him, and i will direct thy arm towards the place where he stands." hodur then took the mistletoe, and under the guidance of loki, darted it at baldur, who, pierced through and through, fell down lifeless. surely never was there witnessed, either among gods or men, a more atrocious deed than this. when baldur fell, the gods were struck speechless with horror, and then they looked at each other, and all were of one mind to lay hands on him who had done the deed, but they were obliged to delay their vengeance out of respect for the sacred place where they were assembled. they gave vent to their grief by loud lamentations. when the gods came to themselves, frigga asked who among them wished to gain all her love and good will. "for this," said she, "shall he have who will ride to hel and offer hela a ransom if she will let baldur return to asgard." whereupon hermod, surnamed the nimble, the son of odin, offered to undertake the journey. odin's horse, sleipnir, which has eight legs and can outrun the wind, was then led forth, on which hermod mounted and galloped away on his mission. for the space of nine days and as many nights he rode through deep glens so dark that he could not discern anything, until he arrived at the river gyoll, which he passed over on a bridge covered with glittering gold. the maiden who kept the bridge asked him his name and lineage, telling him that the day before five bands of dead persons had ridden over the bridge, and did not shake it as much as he alone. "but," she added, "thou hast not death's hue on thee; why then ridest thou here on the way to hel?" "i ride to hel," answered hermod, "to seek baldur. hast thou perchance seen him pass this way?" she replied, "baldur hath ridden over gyoll's bridge, and yonder lieth the way he took to the abodes of death" hermod pursued his journey until he came to the barred gates of hel. here he alighted, girthed his saddle tighter, and remounting clapped both spurs to his horse, who cleared the gate by a tremendous leap without touching it. hermod then rode on to the palace, where he found his brother baldur occupying the most distinguished seat in the hall, and passed the night in his company. the next morning he besought hela to let baldur ride home with him, assuring her that nothing but lamentations were to be heard among the gods. hela answered that it should now be tried whether baldur was so beloved as he was said to be. "if, therefore," she added, "all things in the world, both living and lifeless, weep for him, then shall he return to life; but if any one thing speak against him or refuse to weep, he shall be kept in hel." hermod then rode back to asgard and gave an account of all he had heard and witnessed. the gods upon this despatched messengers throughout the world to beg everything to weep in order that baldur might be delivered from hel. all things very willingly complied with this request, both men and every other living being, as well as earths, and stones, and trees, and metals, just as we have all seen these things weep when they are brought from a cold place into a hot one. as the messengers were returning, they found an old hag named thaukt sitting in a cavern, and begged her to weep baldur out of hel. but she answered, "thaukt will wail with dry tears baldur's bale-fire. let hela keep her own." it was strongly suspected that this hag was no other than loki himself, who never ceased to work evil among gods and men. so baldur was prevented from coming back to asgard. [footnote: in longfellow's poems will be found a poem entitled "tegner's drapa," upon the subject of baldur's death.] the gods took up the dead body and bore it to the seashore where stood baldur's ship "hringham," which passed for the largest in the world. baldur's dead body was put on the funeral pile, on board the ship, and his wife nanna was so struck with grief at the sight that she broke her heart, and her body was burned on the same pile as her husband's. there was a vast concourse of various kinds of people at baldur's obsequies. first came odin accompanied by frigga, the valkyrie, and his ravens; then frey in his car drawn by gullinbursti, the boar; heimdall rode his horse gulltopp, and freya drove in her chariot drawn by cats. there were also a great many frost giants and giants of the mountain present. baldur's horse was led to the pile fully caparisoned and consumed in the same flames with his master. but loki did not escape his deserved punishment. when he saw how angry the gods were, he fled to the mountain, and there built himself a hut with four doors, so that he could see every approaching danger. he invented a net to catch the fishes, such as fishermen have used since his time. but odin found out his hiding- place and the gods assembled to take him. he, seeing this, changed himself into a salmon, and lay hid among the stones of the brook. but the gods took his net and dragged the brook, and loki, finding he must be caught, tried to leap over the net; but thor caught him by the tail and compressed it, so that salmons ever since have had that part remarkably fine and thin. they bound him with chains and suspended a serpent over his head, whose venom falls upon his face drop by drop. his wife siguna sits by his side and catches the drops as they fall, in a cup; but when she carries it away to empty it, the venom falls upon loki, which makes him howl with horror, and twist his body about so violently that the whole earth shakes, and this produces what men call earthquakes. the elves the edda mentions another class of beings, inferior to the gods, but still possessed of great power; these were called elves. the white spirits, or elves of light, were exceedingly fair, more brilliant than the sun, and clad in garments of a delicate and transparent texture. they loved the light, were kindly disposed to mankind, and generally appeared as fair and lovely children. their country was called alfheim, and was the domain of freyr, the god of the sun, in whose light they were always sporting. the black or night elves were a different kind of creatures. ugly, long-nosed dwarfs, of a dirty brown color, they appeared only at night, for they avoided the sun as their most deadly enemy, because whenever his beams fell upon any of them they changed them immediately into stones. their language was the echo of solitudes, and their dwelling-places subterranean caves and clefts. they were supposed to have come into existence as maggots produced by the decaying flesh of ymir's body, and were afterwards endowed by the gods with a human form and great understanding. they were particularly distinguished for a knowledge of the mysterious powers of nature, and for the runes which they carved and explained. they were the most skilful artificers of all created beings, and worked in metals and in wood. among their most noted works were thor's hammer, and the ship "skidbladnir," which they gave to freyr, and which was so large that it could contain all the deities with their war and household implements, but so skillfully was it wrought that when folded together it could be put into a side pocket. ragnarok, the twilight of the gods it was a firm belief of the northern nations that a time would come when all the visible creation, the gods of valhalla and niffleheim, the inhabitants of jotunheim, alfheim, and midgard, together with their habitations, would be destroyed. the fearful day of destruction will not, however, be without its forerunners. first will come a triple winter, during which snow will fall from the four corners of the heavens, the frost be very severe, the wind piercing, the weather tempestuous, and the sun impart no gladness. three such winters will pass away without being tempered by a single summer. three other similar winters will then follow, during which war and discord will spread over the universe. the earth itself will be frightened and begin to tremble, the sea leave its basin, the heavens tear asunder, and men perish in great numbers, and the eagles of the air feast upon their still quivering bodies. the wolf fenris will now break his bands, the midgard serpent rise out of her bed in the sea, and loki, released from his bonds, will join the enemies of the gods. amidst the general devastation the sons of muspelheim will rush forth under their leader surtur, before and behind whom are flames and burning fire. onward they ride over bifrost, the rainbow bridge, which breaks under the horses' hoofs. but they, disregarding its fall, direct their course to the battlefield called vigrid. thither also repair the wolf fenris, the midgard serpent, loki with all the followers of hela, and the frost giants. heimdall now stands up and sounds the giallar horn to assemble the gods and heroes for the contest. the gods advance, led on by odin, who engages the wolf fenris, but falls a victim to the monster, who is, however, slain by vidar, odin's son. thor gains great renown by killing the midgard serpent, but recoils and falls dead, suffocated with the venom which the dying monster vomits over him. loki and heimdall meet and fight till they are both slain. the gods and their enemies having fallen in battle, surtur, who has killed freyr, darts fire and flames over the world, and the whole universe is burned up. the sun becomes dim, the earth sinks into the ocean, the stars fall from heaven, and time is no more. after this alfadur (the almighty) will cause a new heaven and a new earth to arise out of the sea. the new earth filled with abundant supplies will spontaneously produce its fruits without labor or care. wickedness and misery will no more be known, but the gods and men will live happily together. runic letters one cannot travel far in denmark, norway, or sweden without meeting with great stones of different forms, engraven with characters called runic, which appear at first sight very different from all we know. the letters consist almost invariably of straight lines, in the shape of little sticks either singly or put together. such sticks were in early times used by the northern nations for the purpose of ascertaining future events. the sticks were shaken up, and from the figures that they formed a kind of divination was derived. the runic characters were of various kinds. they were chiefly used for magical purposes. the noxious, or, as they called them, the bitter runes, were employed to bring various evils on their enemies; the favorable averted misfortune. some were medicinal, others employed to win love, etc. in later times they were frequently used for inscriptions, of which more than a thousand have been found. the language is a dialect of the gothic, called norse, still in use in iceland. the inscriptions may therefore be read with certainty, but hitherto very few have been found which throw the least light on history. they are mostly epitaphs on tombstones. gray's ode on the "descent of odin" contains an allusion to the use of runic letters for incantation: "facing to the northern clime, thrice he traced the runic rhyme; thrice pronounced, in accents dread, the thrilling verse that wakes the dead, till from out the hollow ground slowly breathed a sullen sound." the skalds the skalds were the bards and poets of the nation, a very important class of men in all communities in an early stage of civilization. they are the depositaries of whatever historic lore there is, and it is their office to mingle something of intellectual gratification with the rude feasts of the warriors, by rehearsing, with such accompaniments of poetry and music as their skill can afford, the exploits of their heroes living or dead. the compositions of the skalds were called sagas, many of which have come down to us, and contain valuable materials of history, and a faithful picture of the state of society at the time to which they relate. iceland the eddas and sagas have come to us from iceland. the following extract from carlyle's lectures on "heroes and hero worship" gives an animated account of the region where the strange stories we have been reading had their origin. let the reader contrast it for a moment with greece, the parent of classical mythology: "in that strange island, iceland,--burst up, the geologists say, by fire from the bottom of the sea, a wild land of barrenness and lava, swallowed many months of every year in black tempests, yet with a wild, gleaming beauty in summer time, towering up there stern and grim in the north ocean, with its snow yokuls [mountains], roaring geysers [boiling springs], sulphur pools, and horrid volcanic chasms, like the waste, chaotic battlefield of frost and fire,--where, of all places, we least looked for literature or written memorials,--the record of these things was written down. on the seaboard of this wild land is a rim of grassy country, where cattle can subsist, and men by means of them and of what the sea yields; and it seems they were poetic men these, men who had deep thoughts in them and uttered musically their thoughts. much would be lost had iceland not been burst up from the sea, not been discovered by the northmen!" teutonic mythology in the mythology of germany proper, the name of odin appears as wotan; freya and frigga are regarded as one and the same divinity, and the gods are in general represented as less warlike in character than those in the scandinavian myths. as a whole, however, teutonic mythology runs along almost identical lines with that of the northern nations. the most notable divergence is due to modifications of the legends by reason of the difference in climatic conditions. the more advanced social condition of the germans is also apparent in their mythology. the nibelungen lied one of the oldest myths of the teutonic race is found in the great national epic of the nibelungen lied, which dates back to the prehistoric era when wotan, frigga, thor, loki, and the other gods and goddesses were worshipped in the german forests. the epic is divided into two parts, the first of which tells how siegfried, the youngest of the kings of the netherlands, went to worms, to ask in marriage the hand of kriemhild, sister of gunther, king of burgundy. while he was staying with gunther, siegfried helped the burgundian king to secure as his wife brunhild, queen of issland. the latter had announced publicly that he only should be her husband who could beat her in hurling a spear, throwing a huge stone, and in leaping. siegfried, who possessed a cloak of invisibility, aided gunther in these three contests, and brunhild became his wife. in return for these services, gunther gave siegfried his sister kriemhild in marriage. after some time had elapsed, siegfried and kriemhild went to visit gunther, when the two women fell into a dispute about the relative merits of their husbands. kriemhild, to exalt siegfried, boasted that it was to the latter that gunther owed his victories and his wife. brunhild, in great anger, employed hagan, liegeman of gunther, to murder siegfried. in the epic hagan is described as follows: "well-grown and well-compacted was that redoubted guest; long were his legs and sinewy, and deep and broad his chest; his hair, that once was sable, with gray was dashed of late; most terrible his visage, and lordly was his gait." --nibelungen lied, stanza . this achilles of german romance stabbed siegfried between the shoulders, as the unfortunate king of the netherlands was stooping to drink from a brook during a hunting expedition. the second part of the epic relates how, thirteen years later, kriemhild married etzel, king of the huns. after a time, she invited the king of burgundy, with hagan and many others, to the court of her husband. a fearful quarrel was stirred up in the banquet hall, which ended in the slaughter of all the burgundians but gunther and hagan. these two were taken prisoners and given to kriemhild, who with her own hand cut off the heads of both. for this bloody act of vengeance kriemhild was herself slain by hildebrand, a magician and champion, who in german mythology holds a place to an extent corresponding to that of nestor in the greek mythology. the nibelungen hoard this was a mythical mass of gold and precious stones which siegfried obtained from the nibelungs, the people of the north whom he had conquered and whose country he had made tributary to his own kingdom of the netherlands. upon his marriage, siegfried gave the treasure to kriemhild as her wedding portion. after the murder of siegfried, hagan seized it and buried it secretly beneath the rhine at lochham, intending to recover it at a future period. the hoard was lost forever when hagan was killed by kriemhild. its wonders are thus set forth in the poem: "'twas as much as twelve huge wagons in four whole nights and days could carry from the mountain down to the salt sea bay; though to and fro each wagon thrice journeyed every day. "it was made up of nothing but precious stones and gold; were all the world bought from it, and down the value told, not a mark the less would there be left than erst there was, i ween." --nibelungen lied, xix. whoever possessed the nibelungen hoard were termed nibelungers. thus at one time certain people of norway were so called. when siegfried held the treasure he received the title "king of the nibelungers." wagner's nibelungen ring though richard wagner's music-drama of the nibelungen ring bears some resemblance to the ancient german epic, it is a wholly independent composition and was derived from various old songs and sagas, which the dramatist wove into one great harmonious story. the principal source was the volsunga saga, while lesser parts were taken from the elder edda and the younger edda, and others from the nibelungen lied, the ecklenlied, and other teutonic folklore. in the drama there are at first only four distinct races,--the gods, the giants, the dwarfs, and the nymphs. later, by a special creation, there come the valkyrie and the heroes. the gods are the noblest and highest race, and dwell first in the mountain meadows, later in the palace of valhalla on the heights. the giants are a great and strong race, but lack wisdom; they hate what is noble, and are enemies of the gods; they dwell in caves near the earth's surface. the dwarfs, or nibelungs, are black uncouth pigmies, hating the good, hating the gods; they are crafty and cunning, and dwell in the bowels of the earth. the nymphs are pure, innocent creatures of the water. the valkyrie are daughters of the gods, but mingled with a mortal strain; they gather dead heroes from the battle-fields and carry them to valhalla. the heroes are children of the gods, but also mingled with a mortal strain; they are destined to become at last the highest race of all, and to succeed the gods in the government of the world. the principal gods are wotan, loki, donner, and froh. the chief giants are fafner and fasolt, brothers. the chief dwarfs are alberich and mime, brothers, and later hagan, son of alberich. the chief nymphs are the rhine-daughters, flosshilda, woglinda, and wellgunda. there are nine valkyrie, of whom brunhild is the leading one. wagner's story of the ring may be summarized as follows: a hoard of gold exists in the depths of the rhine, guarded by the innocent rhine-maidens. alberich, the dwarf, forswears love to gain this gold. he makes it into a magic ring. it gives him all power, and he gathers by it a vast amount of treasures. meanwhile wotan, chief of the gods, has engaged the giants to build for him a noble castle, valhalla, from whence to rule the world, promising in payment freya, goddess of youth and love. but the gods find they cannot spare freya, as they are dependent on her for their immortal youth. loki, called upon to provide a substitute, tells of alberich's magic ring and other treasure. wotan goes with loki, and they steal the ring and the golden hoard from alberich, who curses the ring and lays the curse on all who shall henceforth possess it. the gods give the ring and the treasure to the giants as a substitute for freya. the curse at once begins. one giant, fafner, kills his brother to get all, and transforms himself into a dragon to guard his wealth. the gods enter valhalla over the rainbow bridge. this ends the first part of the drama, called the rhine-gold. the second part, the valkyrie, relates how wotan still covets the ring. he cannot take it himself, for he has given his word to the giants. he stands or falls by his word. so he devises an artifice to get the ring. he will get a hero-race to work for him and recover the ring and the treasures. siegmund and sieglinda are twin children of this new race. sieglinda is carried off as a child and is forced into marriage with hunding. siegmund comes, and unknowingly breaks the law of marriage, but wins nothung, the great sword, and a bride. brunhild, chief of the valkyrie, is commissioned by wotan at the instance of fricka, goddess of marriage, to slay him for his sin. she disobeys and tries to save him, but hunding, helped by wotan, slays him. sieglinda, however, about to bear the free hero, to be called siegfried, is saved by brunhild, and hid in the forest. brunhild herself is punished by being made a mortal woman. she is left sleeping on the mountains with a wall of fire around her which only a hero can penetrate. the drama continues with the story of siegfried, which opens with a scene in the smithy between mime the dwarf and siegfried. mime is welding a sword, and siegfried scorns him. mime tells him something of his mother, sieglinda, and shows him the broken pieces of his father's sword. wotan comes and tells mime that only one who has no fear can remake the sword. now siegfried knows no fear and soon remakes the sword nothung. wotan and alberich come to where the dragon fafner is guarding the ring. they both long for it, but neither can take it. soon mime comes bringing siegfried with the mighty sword. fafner comes out, but siegfried slays him. happening to touch his lips with the dragon's blood, he understands the language of the birds. they tell him of the ring. he goes and gets it. siegfried now has possession of the ring, but it is to bring him nothing of happiness, only evil. it is to curse love and finally bring death. the birds also tell him of mime's treachery. he slays mime. he longs for some one to love. the birds tell him of the slumbering brunnhilda, whom he finds and marries. the dusk of the gods portrays at the opening the three norns or fates weaving and measuring the thread of destiny. it is the beginning of the end. the perfect pair, siegfried and brunhild, appear in all the glory of their life, splendid ideals of manhood and womanhood. but siegfried goes out into the world to achieve deeds of prowess. he gives her the nibelungen ring to keep as a pledge of his love till his return. meanwhile alberich also has begotten a son, hagan, to achieve for him the possession of the ring. he is partly of the gibichung race, and works through gunther and gutrune, half-brother and half-sister to him. they beguile siegfried to them, give him a magic draught which makes him forget brunhild and fall in love with gutrune. under this same spell, he offers to bring brunhild for wife to gunther. now is valhalla full of sorrow and despair. the gods fear the end. wotan murmurs, "o that she would give back the ring to the rhine." but brunhild will not give it up,--it is now her pledge of love. siegfried comes, takes the ring, and brunhild is now brought to the rhine castle of the gibichungs, but siegfried under the spell does not love her. she is to be wedded to gunther. she rises in wrath and denounces siegfried. but at a hunting banquet siegfried is given another magic draught, remembers all, and is slain by hagan by a blow in the back, as he calls on brunhild's name in love. then comes the end. the body of siegfried is burned on a funeral pyre, a grand funeral march is heard, and brunhild rides into the flames and sacrifices herself for love's sake; the ring goes back to the rhine-daughters; and the old world--of the gods of valhalla, of passion and sin--is burnt up with flames, for the gods have broken moral law, and coveted power rather than love, gold rather than truth, and therefore must perish. they pass, and a new era, the reign of love and truth, has begun. those who wish to study the differences in the legends of the nibelungen lied and the nibelungen ring, and the way in which wagner used his ancient material, are referred to professor w. c. sawyer's book on "teutonic legends in the nibelungen lied and the nibelungen ring," where the matter is treated in full detail. for a very thorough and clear analysis of the ring as wagner gives it, with a study of the musical motifs, probably nothing is better for general readers than the volume "the epic of sounds," by freda winworth. the more scholarly work of professor lavignac is indispensable for the student of wagner's dramas. there is much illuminating comment on the sources and materials in "legends of the wagner drama" by j. l. weston. chapter xli the druids--iona druids the druids were the priests or ministers of religion among the ancient celtic nations in gaul, britain, and germany. our information respecting them is borrowed from notices in the greek and roman writers, compared with the remains of welsh and gaelic poetry still extant. the druids combined the functions of the priest, the magistrate, the scholar, and the physician. they stood to the people of the celtic tribes in a relation closely analogous to that in which the brahmans of india, the magi of persia, and the priests of the egyptians stood to the people respectively by whom they were revered. the druids taught the existence of one god, to whom they gave a name "be' al," which celtic antiquaries tell us means "the life of everything," or "the source of all beings," and which seems to have affinity with the phoenician baal. what renders this affinity more striking is that the druids as well as the phoenicians identified this, their supreme deity, with the sun. fire was regarded as a symbol of the divinity. the latin writers assert that the druids also worshipped numerous inferior gods. they used no images to represent the object of their worship, nor did they meet in temples or buildings of any kind for the performance of their sacred rites. a circle of stones (each stone generally of vast size), enclosing an area of from twenty feet to thirty yards in diameter, constituted their sacred place. the most celebrated of these now remaining is stonehenge, on salisbury plain, england. these sacred circles were generally situated near some stream, or under the shadow of a grove or wide-spreading oak. in the centre of the circle stood the cromlech or altar, which was a large stone, placed in the manner of a table upon other stones set up on end. the druids had also their high places, which were large stones or piles of stones on the summits of hills. these were called cairns, and were used in the worship of the deity under the symbol of the sun. that the druids offered sacrifices to their deity there can be no doubt. but there is some uncertainty as to what they offered, and of the ceremonies connected with their religious services we know almost nothing. the classical (roman) writers affirm that they offered on great occasions human sacrifices; as for success in war or for relief from dangerous diseases. caesar has given a detailed account of the manner in which this was done. "they have images of immense size, the limbs of which are framed with twisted twigs and filled with living persons. these being set on fire, those within are encompassed by the flames." many attempts have been made by celtic writers to shake the testimony of the roman historians to this fact, but without success. the druids observed two festivals in each year. the former took place in the beginning of may, and was called beltane or "fire of god." on this occasion a large fire was kindled on some elevated spot, in honor of the sun, whose returning beneficence they thus welcomed after the gloom and desolation of winter. of this custom a trace remains in the name given to whitsunday in parts of scotland to this day. sir walter scott uses the word in the "boat song" in the "lady of the lake": "ours is no sapling, chance sown by the fountain, blooming at beltane in winter to fade;" etc. the other great festival of the druids was called "samh'in," or "fire of peace," and was held on halloweve (first of november), which still retains this designation in the highlands of scotland. on this occasion the druids assembled in solemn conclave, in the most central part of the district, to discharge the judicial functions of their order. all questions, whether public or private, all crimes against person or property, were at this time brought before them for adjudication. with these judicial acts were combined certain superstitious usages, especially the kindling of the sacred fire, from which all the fires in the district, which had been beforehand scrupulously extinguished, might be relighted. this usage of kindling fires on hallow-eve lingered in the british islands long after the establishment of christianity. besides these two great annual festivals, the druids were in the habit of observing the full moon, and especially the sixth day of the moon. on the latter they sought the mistletoe, which grew on their favorite oaks, and to which, as well as to the oak itself, they ascribed a peculiar virtue and sacredness. the discovery of it was an occasion of rejoicing and solemn worship. "they call it," says pliny, "by a word in their language, which means 'heal- all,' and having made solemn preparation for feasting and sacrifice under the tree, they drive thither two milk-white bulls, whose horns are then for the first time bound. the priest then, robed in white, ascends the tree, and cuts off the mistletoe with a golden sickle. it is caught in a white mantle, after which they proceed to slay the victims, at the same time praying that god would render his gift prosperous to those to whom he had given it." they drink the water in which it has been infused, and think it a remedy for all diseases. the mistletoe is a parasitic plant, and is not always nor often found on the oak, so that when it is found it is the more precious. the druids were the teachers of morality as well as of religion. of their ethical teaching a valuable specimen is preserved in the triads of the welsh bards, and from this we may gather that their views of moral rectitude were on the whole just, and that they held and inculcated many very noble and valuable principles of conduct. they were also the men of science and learning of their age and people. whether they were acquainted with letters or not has been disputed, though the probability is strong that they were, to some extent. but it is certain that they committed nothing of their doctrine, their history, or their poetry to writing. their teaching was oral, and their literature (if such a word may be used in such a case) was preserved solely by tradition. but the roman writers admit that "they paid much attention to the order and laws of nature, and investigated and taught to the youth under their charge many things concerning the stars and their motions, the size of the world and the lands, and concerning the might and power of the immortal gods." their history consisted in traditional tales, in which the heroic deeds of their forefathers were celebrated. these were apparently in verse, and thus constituted part of the poetry as well as the history of the druids. in the poems of ossian we have, if not the actual productions of druidical times, what may be considered faithful representations of the songs of the bards. the bards were an essential part of the druidical hierarchy. one author, pennant, says, "the bards were supposed to be endowed with powers equal to inspiration. they were the oral historians of all past transactions, public and private. they were also accomplished genealogists," etc. pennant gives a minute account of the eisteddfods or sessions of the bards and minstrels, which were held in wales for many centuries, long after the druidical priesthood in its other departments became extinct. at these meetings none but bards of merit were suffered to rehearse their pieces, and minstrels of skill to perform. judges were appointed to decide on their respective abilities, and suitable degrees were conferred. in the earlier period the judges were appointed by the welsh princes, and after the conquest of wales, by commission from the kings of england. yet the tradition is that edward i., in revenge for the influence of the bards in animating the resistance of the people to his sway, persecuted them with great cruelty. this tradition has furnished the poet gray with the subject of his celebrated ode, the "bard." there are still occasional meetings of the lovers of welsh poetry and music, held under the ancient name. among mrs. hemans' poems is one written for an eisteddfod, or meeting of welsh bards, held in london, may , . it begins with a description of the ancient meeting, of which the following lines are a part: "... midst the eternal cliffs, whose strength defied the crested roman in his hour of pride; and where the druid's ancient cromlech frowned, and the oaks breathed mysterious murmurs round, there thronged the inspired of yore! on plain or height, in the sun's face, beneath the eye of light, and baring unto heaven each noble head, stood in the circle, where none else might tread." the druidical system was at its height at the time of the roman invasion under julius caesar. against the druids, as their chief enemies, these conquerors of the world directed their unsparing fury. the druids, harassed at all points on the mainland, retreated to anglesey and iona, where for a season they found shelter and continued their now dishonored rites. the druids retained their predominance in iona and over the adjacent islands and mainland until they were supplanted and their superstitions overturned by the arrival of st. columba, the apostle of the highlands, by whom the inhabitants of that district were first led to profess christianity. iona one of the smallest of the british isles, situated near a rugged and barren coast, surrounded by dangerous seas, and possessing no sources of internal wealth, iona has obtained an imperishable place in history as the seat of civilization and religion at a time when the darkness of heathenism hung over almost the whole of northern europe. lona or icolmkill is situated at the extremity of the island of mull, from which it is separated by a strait of half a mile in breadth, its distance from the mainland of scotland being thirty-six miles. columba was a native of ireland, and connected by birth with the princes of the land. ireland was at that time a land of gospel light, while the western and northern parts of scotland were still immersed in the darkness of heathenism. columba with twelve friends landed on the island of lona in the year of our lord , having made the passage in a wicker boat covered with hides. the druids who occupied the island endeavored to prevent his settling there, and the savage nations on the adjoining shores incommoded him with their hostility, and on several occasions endangered his life by their attacks. yet by his perseverance and zeal he surmounted all opposition, procured from the king a gift of the island, and established there a monastery of which he was the abbot. he was unwearied in his labors to disseminate a knowledge of the scriptures throughout the highlands and islands of scotland, and such was the reverence paid him that though not a bishop, but merely a presbyter and monk, the entire province with its bishops was subject to him and his successors. the pictish monarch was so impressed with a sense of his wisdom and worth that he held him in the highest honor, and the neighboring chiefs and princes sought his counsel and availed themselves of his judgment in settling their disputes. when columba landed on lona he was attended by twelve followers whom he had formed into a religious body of which he was the head. to these, as occasion required, others were from time to time added, so that the original number was always kept up. their institution was called a monastery and the superior an abbot, but the system had little in common with the monastic institutions of later times. the name by which those who submitted to the rule were known was that of culdees, probably from the latin "cultores dei"--worshippers of god. they were a body of religious persons associated together for the purpose of aiding each other in the common work of preaching the gospel and teaching youth, as well as maintaining in themselves the fervor of devotion by united exercises of worship. on entering the order certain vows were taken by the members, but they were not those which were usually imposed by monastic orders, for of these, which are three,-- celibacy, poverty, and obedience.--the culdees were bound to none except the third. to poverty they did not bind themselves; on the contrary they seem to have labored diligently to procure for themselves and those dependent on them the comforts of life. marriage also was allowed them, and most of them seem to have entered into that state. true, their wives were not permitted to reside with them at the institution, but they had a residence assigned to them in an adjacent locality. near lona there is an island which still bears the name of "eilen nam ban," women's island, where their husbands seem to have resided with them, except when duty required their presence in the school or the sanctuary. campbell, in his poem of "reullura," alludes to the married monks of iona: "... the pure culdees were albyn's earliest priests of god, ere yet an island of her seas by foot of saxon monk was trod, long ere her churchmen by bigotry were barred from holy wedlock's tie. 'twas then that aodh, famed afar, in lona preached the word with power, and reullura, beauty's star, was the partner of his bower." in one of his "irish melodies," moore gives the legend of st. senanus and the lady who sought shelter on the island, but was repulsed: "o, haste and leave this sacred isle, unholy bark, ere morning smile; for on thy deck, though dark it be, a female form i see; and i have sworn this sainted sod shall ne'er by woman's foot be trod." in these respects and in others the culdees departed from the established rules of the romish church, and consequently were deemed heretical. the consequence was that as the power of the latter advanced that of the culdees was enfeebled. it was not, however, till the thirteenth centurv that the communities of the culdees were suppressed and the members dispersed. they still continued to labor as individuals, and resisted the inroads of papal usurpation as they best might till the light of the reformation dawned on the world. iona, from its position in the western seas, was exposed to the assaults of the norwegian and danish rovers by whom those seas were infested, and by them it was repeatedly pillaged, its dwellings burned, and its peaceful inhabitants put to the sword. these unfavorable circumstances led to its gradual decline, which was expedited by the subversion of the culdees throughout scotland. under the reign of popery the island became the seat of a nunnery, the ruins of which are still seen. at the reformation, the nuns were allowed to remain, living in community, when the abbey was dismantled. iona is now chiefly resorted to by travellers on account of the numerous ecclesiastical and sepulchral remains which are found upon it. the principal of these are the cathedral or abbey church and the chapel of the nunnery. besides these remains of ecclesiastical antiquity, there are some of an earlier date, and pointing to the existence on the island of forms of worship and belief different from those of christianity. these are the circular cairns which are found in various parts, and which seem to have been of druidical origin. it is in reference to all these remains of ancient religion that johnson exclaims, "that man is little to be envied whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plains of marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer amid the ruins of lona." in the "lord of the isles" scott beautifully contrasts the church on lona with the cave of staffa, opposite: "nature herself, it seemed, would raise a minister to her maker's praise! not for a meaner use ascend her columns, or her arches bend; nor of a theme less solemn tells that mighty surge that ebbs and swells, and still between each awful pause, from the high vault an answer draws, in varied tone, prolonged and high, that mocks the organ's melody; nor doth its entrance front in vain to old iona's holy fane, that nature's voice might seem to say, well hast thou done, frail child of clay! thy humble powers that stately shrine tasked high and hard--but witness mine!" king arthur and his knights chapter i introduction on the decline of the roman power, about five centuries after christ, the countries of northern europe were left almost destitute of a national government. numerous chiefs, more or less powerful, held local sway, as far as each could enforce his dominion, and occasionally those chiefs would unite for a common object; but, in ordinary times, they were much more likely to be found in hostility to one another. in such a state of things the rights of the humbler classes of society were at the mercy of every assailant; and it is plain that, without some check upon the lawless power of the chiefs, society must have relapsed into barbarism. such checks were found, first, in the rivalry of the chiefs themselves, whose mutual jealousy made them restraints upon one another; secondly, in the influence of the church, which, by every motive, pure or selfish, was pledged to interpose for the protection of the weak; and lastly, in the generosity and sense of right which, however crushed under the weight of passion and selfishness, dwell naturally in the heart of man. from this last source sprang chivalry, which framed an ideal of the heroic character, combining invincible strength and valor, justice, modesty, loyalty to superiors, courtesy to equals, compassion to weakness, and devotedness to the church; an ideal which, if never met with in real life, was acknowledged by all as the highest model for emulation. the word "chivalry" is derived from the french "cheval," a horse. the word "knight," which originally meant boy or servant, was particularly applied to a young man after he was admitted to the privilege of bearing arms. this privilege was conferred on youths of family and fortune only, for the mass of the people were not furnished with arms. the knight then was a mounted warrior, a man of rank, or in the service and maintenance of some man of rank, generally possessing some independent means of support, but often relying mainly on the gratitude of those whom he served for the supply of his wants, and often, no doubt, resorting to the means which power confers on its possessor. in time of war the knight was, with his followers, in the camp of his sovereign, or commanding in the field, or holding some castle for him. in time of peace he was often in attendance at his sovereign's court, gracing with his presence the banquets and tournaments with which princes cheered their leisure. or he was traversing the country in quest of adventure, professedly bent on redressing wrongs and enforcing rights, sometimes in fulfilment of some vow of religion or of love. these wandering knights were called knights-errant; they were welcome guests in the castles of the nobility, for their presence enlivened the dulness of those secluded abodes, and they were received with honor at the abbeys, which often owed the best part of their revenues to the patronage of the knights; but if no castle or abbey or hermitage were at hand their hardy habits made it not intolerable to them to lie down, supperless, at the foot of some wayside cross, and pass the night. it is evident that the justice administered by such an instrumentality must have been of the rudest description. the force whose legitimate purpose was to redress wrongs might easily be perverted to inflict them accordingly, we find in the romances, which, however fabulous in facts, are true as pictures of manners, that a knightly castle was often a terror to the surrounding country; that is, dungeons were full of oppressed knights and ladies, waiting for some champion to appear to set them free, or to be ransomed with money; that hosts of idle retainers were ever at hand to enforce their lord's behests, regardless of law and justice; and that the rights of the unarmed multitude were of no account. this contrariety of fact and theory in regard to chivalry will account for the opposite impressions which exist in men's minds respecting it. while it has been the theme of the most fervid eulogium on the one part, it has been as eagerly denounced on the other. on a cool estimate, we cannot but see reason to congratulate ourselves that it has given way in modern times to the reign of law, and that the civil magistrate, if less picturesque, has taken the place of the mailed champion. the training of a knight the preparatory education of candidates for knighthood was long and arduous. at seven years of age the noble children were usually removed from their father's house to the court or castle of their future patron, and placed under the care of a governor, who taught them the first articles of religion, and respect and reverence for their lords and superiors, and initiated them in the ceremonies of a court. they were called pages, valets, or varlets, and their office was to carve, to wait at table, and to perform other menial services, which were not then considered humiliating. in their leisure hours they learned to dance and play on the harp, were instructed in the mysteries of woods and rivers, that is, in hunting, falconry, and fishing, and in wrestling, tilting with spears, and performing other military exercises on horseback. at fourteen the page became an esquire, and began a course of severer and more laborious exercises. to vault on a horse in heavy armor; to run, to scale walls, and spring over ditches, under the same encumbrance; to wrestle, to wield the battle-axe for a length of time, without raising the visor or taking breath; to perform with grace all the evolutions of horsemanship,--were necessary preliminaries to the reception of knighthood, which was usually conferred at twenty-one years of age, when the young man's education was supposed to be completed. in the meantime, the esquires were no less assiduously engaged in acquiring all those refinements of civility which formed what was in that age called courtesy. the same castle in which they received their education was usually thronged with young persons of the other sex, and the page was encouraged, at a very early age, to select some lady of the court as the mistress of his heart, to whom he was taught to refer all his sentiments, words, and actions. the service of his mistress was the glory and occupation of a knight, and her smiles, bestowed at once by affection and gratitude, were held out as the recompense of his well-directed valor. religion united its influence with those of loyalty and love, and the order of knighthood, endowed with all the sanctity and religious awe that attended the priesthood, became an object of ambition to the greatest sovereigns. the ceremonies of initiation were peculiarly solemn. after undergoing a severe fast, and spending whole nights in prayer, the candidate confessed, and received the sacrament. he then clothed himself in snow-white garments, and repaired to the church, or the hall, where the ceremony was to take place, bearing a knightly sword suspended from his neck, which the officiating priest took and blessed, and then returned to him. the candidate then, with folded arms, knelt before the presiding knight, who, after some questions about his motives and purposes in requesting admission, administered to him the oaths, and granted his request. some of the knights present, sometimes even ladies and damsels, handed to him in succession the spurs, the coat of mail, the hauberk, the armlet and gauntlet, and lastly he girded on the sword. he then knelt again before the president, who, rising from his seat, gave him the "accolade," which consisted of three strokes, with the flat of a sword, on the shoulder or neck of the candidate, accompanied by the words: "in the name of god, of st. michael, and st. george, i make thee a knight; be valiant, courteous, and loyal!" then he received his helmet, his shield, and spear; and thus the investiture ended. freemen, villains, serfs, and clerks the other classes of which society was composed were, first, freemen, owners of small portions of land independent, though they sometimes voluntarily became the vassals of their more opulent neighbors, whose power was necessary for their protection. the other two classes, which were much the most numerous, were either serfs or villains, both of which were slaves. the serfs were in the lowest state of slavery. all the fruits of their labor belonged to the master whose land they tilled, and by whom they were fed and clothed. the villians were less degraded. their situation seems to have resembled that of the russian peasants at this day. like the serfs, they were attached to the soil, and were transferred with it by purchase; but they paid only a fixed rent to the landlord, and had a right to dispose of any surplus that might arise from their industry. the term "clerk" was of very extensive import. it comprehended, originally, such persons only as belonged to the clergy, or clerical order, among whom, however, might be found a multitude of married persons, artisans or others. but in process of time a much wider rule was established; every one that could read being accounted a clerk or clericus, and allowed the "benefit of clergy," that is, exemption from capital and some other forms of punishment, in case of crime. tournaments the splendid pageant of a tournament between knights, its gaudy accessories and trappings, and its chivalrous regulations, originated in france. tournaments were repeatedly condemned by the church, probably on account of the quarrels they led to, and the often fatal results. the "joust," or "just," was different from the tournament. in these, knights fought with their lances, and their object was to unhorse their antagonists; while the tournaments were intended for a display of skill and address in evolutions, and with various weapons, and greater courtesy was observed in the regulations. by these it was forbidden to wound the horse, or to use the point of the sword, or to strike a knight after he had raised his vizor, or unlaced his helmet. the ladies encouraged their knights in these exercises; they bestowed prizes, and the conqueror's feats were the theme of romance and song. the stands overlooking the ground, of course, were varied in the shapes of towers, terraces, galleries, and pensile gardens, magnificently decorated with tapestry, pavilions, and banners. every combatant proclaimed the name of the lady whose servant d'amour he was. he was wont to look up to the stand, and strengthen his courage by the sight of the bright eyes that were raining their influence on him from above. the knights also carried favors, consisting of scarfs, veils, sleeves, bracelets, clasps,--in short, some piece of female habiliment,--attached to their helmets, shields, or armor. if, during the combat, any of these appendages were dropped or lost the fair donor would at times send her knight new ones, especially if pleased with his exertions. mail armor mail armor, of which the hauberk is a species, and which derived its name from maille, a french word for mesh, was of two kinds, plate or scale mail, and chain mail. it was originally used for the protection of the body only, reaching no lower than the knees. it was shaped like a carter's frock, and bound round the waist by a girdle. gloves and hose of mail were afterwards added, and a hood, which, when necessary, was drawn over the head, leaving the face alone uncovered. to protect the skin from the impression of the iron network of the chain mail, a quilted lining was employed, which, however, was insufficient, and the bath was used to efface the marks of the armor. the hauberk was a complete covering of double chain mail. some hauberks opened before, like a modern coat; others were closed like a shirt. the chain mail of which they were composed was formed by a number of iron links, each link having others inserted into it, the whole exhibiting a kind of network, of which (in some instances at least) the meshes were circular, with each link separately riveted. the hauberk was proof against the most violent blow of a sword; but the point of a lance might pass through the meshes, or drive the iron into the flesh. to guard against this, a thick and well- stuffed doublet was worn underneath, under which was commonly added an iron breastplate. hence the expression "to pierce both plate and mail," so common in the earlier poets. mail armor continued in general use till about the year , when it was gradually supplanted by plate armor, or suits consisting of pieces or plates of solid iron, adapted to the different parts of the body. shields were generally made of wood, covered with leather, or some similar substance. to secure them, in some sort, from being cut through by the sword, they were surrounded with a hoop of metal. helmets the helmet was composed of two parts: the headpiece, which was strengthened within by several circles of iron, and the visor, which, as the name implies, was a sort of grating to see through, so contrived as, by sliding in a groove, or turning on a pivot, to be raised or lowered at pleasure. some helmets had a further improvement called a bever, from the italian bevere, to drink. the ventayle, or "air-passage," is another name for this. to secure the helmet from the possibility of falling, or of being struck off, it was tied by several laces to the meshes of the hauberk; consequently, when a knight was overthrown it was necessary to undo these laces before he could be put to death; though this was sometimes effected by lifting up the skirt of the hauberk, and stabbing him in the belly. the instrument of death was a small dagger, worn on the right side. romances in ages when there were no books, when noblemen and princes themselves could not read, history or tradition was monopolized by the story-tellers. they inherited, generation after generation, the wondrous tales of their predecessors, which they retailed to the public with such additions of their own as their acquired information supplied them with. anachronisms became of course very common, and errors of geography, of locality, of manners, equally so. spurious genealogies were invented, in which arthur and his knights, and charlemagne and his paladins, were made to derive their descent from aeneas, hector, or some other of the trojan heroes. with regard to the derivation of the word "romance," we trace it to the fact that the dialects which were formed in western europe, from the admixture of latin with the native languages, took the name of langue romaine. the french language was divided into two dialects. the river loire was their common boundary. in the provinces to the south of that river the affirmative, yes, was expressed by the word oc; in the north it was called oil (oui); and hence dante has named the southern language langue d'oc, and the northern langue d'oil. the latter, which was carried into england by the normans, and is the origin of the present french, may be called the french romane; and the former the provencal, or provencial romane, because it was spoken by the people of provence and languedoc, southern provinces of france. these dialects were soon distinguished by very opposite characters. a soft and enervating climate, a spirit of commerce encouraged by an easy communication with other maritime nations, the influx of wealth, and a more settled government, may have tended to polish and soften the diction of the provencials, whose poets, under the name of troubadours, were the masters of the italians, and particularly of petrarch. their favorite pieces were sirventes (satirical pieces), love-songs, and tensons, which last were a sort of dialogue in verse between two poets, who questioned each other on some refined points of loves' casuistry. it seems the provencials were so completely absorbed in these delicate questions as to neglect and despise the composition of fabulous histories of adventure and knighthood, which they left in a great measure to the poets of the northern part of the kingdom, called trouveurs. at a time when chivalry excited universal admiration, and when all the efforts of that chivalry were directed against the enemies of religion, it was natural that literature should receive the same impulse, and that history and fable should be ransacked to furnish examples of courage and piety that might excite increased emulation. arthur and charlemagne were the two heroes selected for this purpose. arthur's pretensions were that he was a brave, though not always a successful warrior; he had withstood with great resolution the arms of the infidels, that is to say of the saxons, and his memory was held in the highest estimation by his countrymen, the britons, who carried with them into wales, and into the kindred country of armorica, or brittany, the memory of his exploits, which their national vanity insensibly exaggerated, till the little prince of the silures (south wales) was magnified into the conqueror of england, of gaul, and of the greater part of europe. his genealogy was gradually carried up to an imaginary brutus, and to the period of the trojan war, and a sort of chronicle was composed in the welsh, or armorican language, which, under the pompous title of the "history of the kings of britain," was translated into latin by geoffrey of monmouth, about the year . the welsh critics consider the material of the work to have been an older history, written by st. talian, bishop of st. asaph, in the seventh century. as to charlemagne, though his real merits were sufficient to secure his immortality, it was impossible that his holy wars against the saracens should not become a favorite topic for fiction. accordingly, the fabulous history of these wars was written, probably towards the close of the eleventh century, by a monk, who, thinking it would add dignity to his work to embellish it with a contemporary name, boldly ascribed it to turpin, who was archbishop of rheims about the year . these fabulous chronicles were for a while imprisoned in languages of local only or of professional access. both turpin and geoffrey might indeed be read by ecclesiastics, the sole latin scholars of those times, and geoffrey's british original would contribute to the gratification of welshmen; but neither could become extensively popular till translated into some language of general and familiar use. the anglo-saxon was at that time used only by a conquered and enslaved nation; the spanish and italian languages were not yet formed; the norman french alone was spoken and understood by the nobility in the greater part of europe, and therefore was a proper vehicle for the new mode of composition. that language was fashionable in england before the conquest, and became, after that event, the only language used at the court of london. as the various conquests of the normans, and the enthusiastic valor of that extraordinary people, had familiarized the minds of men with the most marvellous events, their poets eagerly seized the fabulous legends of arthur and charlemagne, translated them into the language of the day, and soon produced a variety of imitations. the adventures attributed to these monarchs, and to their distinguished warriors, together with those of many other traditionary or imaginary heroes, composed by degrees that formidable body of marvellous histories which, from the dialect in which the most ancient of them were written, were called "romances." metrical romances the earliest form in which romances appear is that of a rude kind of verse. in this form it is supposed they were sung or recited at the feasts of princes and knights in their baronial halls. the following specimen of the language and style of robert de beauvais, who flourished in , is from sir walter scott's "introduction to the romance of sir tristrem": "ne voil pas emmi dire, ici diverse la matyere, entre ceus qui solent cunter, e de le cunte tristran parler." "i will not say too much about it, so diverse is the matter, among those who are in the habit of telling and relating the story of tristran." this is a specimen of the language which was in use among the nobility of england, in the ages immediately after the norman conquest. the following is a specimen of the english that existed at the same time, among the common people. robert de brunne, speaking of his latin and french authorities, says: "als thai haf wryten and sayd haf i alle in myn inglis layd, in symple speche as i couthe, that is lightest in manne's mouthe. alle for the luf of symple men, that strange inglis cannot ken." the "strange inglis" being the language of the previous specimen. it was not till toward the end of the thirteenth century that the prose romances began to appear. these works generally began with disowning and discrediting the sources from which in reality they drew their sole information. as every romance was supposed to be a real history, the compilers of those in prose would have forfeited all credit if they had announced themselves as mere copyists of the minstrels. on the contrary, they usually state that, as the popular poems upon the matter in question contain many "lesings," they had been induced to translate the real and true history of such or such a knight from the original latin or greek, or from the ancient british or armorican authorities, which authorities existed only in their own assertion. a specimen of the style of the prose romances may be found in the following extract from one of the most celebrated and latest of them, the "morte d'arthur" of sir thomas mallory, of the date of . from this work much of the contents of this volume has been drawn, with as close an adherence to the original style as was thought consistent with our plan of adapting our narrative to the taste of modern readers. "it is notoyrly knowen thorugh the vnyuersal world that there been ix worthy and the best that ever were. that is to wete thre paynyms, three jewes, and three crysten men. as for the paynyms, they were tofore the incarnacyon of cryst whiche were named, the fyrst hector of troye; the second alysaunder the grete, and the thyrd julyus cezar, emperour of rome, of whome thystoryes ben wel kno and had. and as for the thre jewes whyche also were tofore thyncarnacyon of our lord, of whome the fyrst was duc josue, whyche brought the chyldren of israhel into the londe of beheste; the second dauyd, kyng of jherusalem, and the thyrd judas machabeus; of these thre the byble reherceth al theyr noble hystoryes and actes. and sythe the sayd incarnacyon haue ben the noble crysten men stalled and admytted thorugh the vnyuersal world to the nombre of the ix beste and worthy, of whome was fyrst the noble arthur, whose noble actes i purpose to wryte in this person book here folowyng. the second was charlemayn, or charles the grete, of whome thystorye is had in many places both in frensshe and englysshe, and the thyrd and last was godefray of boloyn." chapter ii the mythical history of england the illustrious poet, milton, in his "history of england," is the author whom we chiefly follow in this chapter. according to the earliest accounts, albion, a giant, and son of neptune, a contemporary of hercules, ruled over the island, to which he gave his name. presuming to oppose the progress of hercules in his western march, he was slain by him. another story is that histion, the son of japhet, the son of noah, had four sons, francus, romanus, alemannus, and britto, from whom descended the french, roman, german, and british people. rejecting these and other like stories, milton gives more regard to the story of brutus, the trojan, which, he says, is supported by "descents of ancestry long continued, laws and exploits not plainly seeming to be borrowed or devised, which on the common belief have wrought no small impression; defended by many, denied utterly by few." the principal authority is geoffrey of monmouth, whose history, written in the twelfth century, purports to be a translation of a history of britain brought over from the opposite shore of france, which, under the name of brittany, was chiefly peopled by natives of britain who, from time to time, emigrated thither, driven from their own country by the inroads of the picts and scots. according to this authority, brutus was the son of silvius, and he of ascanius, the son of aeneas, whose flight from troy and settlement in italy are narrated in "stories of gods and heroes." brutus, at the age of fifteen, attending his father to the chase, unfortunately killed him with an arrow. banished therefor by his kindred, he sought refuge in that part of greece where helenus, with a band of trojan exiles, had become established. but helenus was now dead and the descendants of the trojans were oppressed by pandrasus, the king of the country. brutus, being kindly received among them, so throve in virtue and in arms as to win the regard of all the eminent of the land above all others of his age. in consequence of this the trojans not only began to hope, but secretly to persuade him to lead them the way to liberty. to encourage them, they had the promise of help from assaracus, a noble greek youth, whose mother was a trojan. he had suffered wrong at the hands of the king, and for that reason the more willingly cast in his lost with the trojan exiles. choosing a fit opportunity, brutus with his countrymen withdrew to the woods and hills, as the safest place from which to expostulate, and sent this message to pandrasus: "that the trojans, holding it unworthy of their ancestors to serve in a foreign land, had retreated to the woods, choosing rather a savage life than a slavish one. if that displeased him, then, with his leave, they would depart to some other country." pandrasus, not expecting so bold a message from the sons of captives, went in pursuit of them, with such forces as he could gather, and met them on the banks of the achelous, where brutus got the advantage, and took the king captive. the result was, that the terms demanded by the trojans were granted; the king gave his daughter imogen in marriage to brutus, and furnished shipping, money, and fit provision for them all to depart from the land. the marriage being solemnized, and shipping from all parts got together, the trojans, in a fleet of no less than three hundred and twenty sail, betook themselves to the sea. on the third day they arrived at a certain island, which they found destitute of inhabitants, though there were appearances of former habitation, and among the ruins a temple of diana. brutus, here performing sacrifice at the shrine of the goddess, invoked an oracle for his guidance, in these lines: "goddess of shades, and huntress, who at will walk'st on the rolling sphere, and through the deep; on thy third realm, the earth, look now, and tell what land, what seat of rest, thou bidd'st me seek; what certain seat where i may worship thee for aye, with temples vowed and virgin choirs." to whom, sleeping before the altar, diana in a vision thus answered: "brutus! far to the west, in the ocean wide, beyond the realm of gaul, a land there lies, seagirt it lies, where giants dwelt of old; now, void, it fits thy people: thither bend thy course; there shalt thou find a lasting seat; there to thy sons another troy shall rise, and kings be born of thee, whose dreaded might shall awe the world, and conquer nations bold" brutus, guided now, as he thought, by divine direction, sped his course towards the west, and, arriving at a place on the tyrrhene sea, found there the descendants of certain trojans who, with antenor, came into italy, of whom corineus was the chief. these joined company, and the ships pursued their way till they arrived at the mouth of the river loire, in france, where the expedition landed, with a view to a settlement, but were so rudely assaulted by the inhabitants that they put to sea again, and arrived at a part of the coast of britain, now called devonshire, where brutus felt convinced that he had found the promised end of his voyage, landed his colony, and took possession. the island, not yet britain, but albion, was in a manner desert and inhospitable, occupied only by a remnant of the giant race whose excessive force and tyranny had destroyed the others. the trojans encountered these and extirpated them, corineus, in particular, signalizing himself by his exploits against them; from whom cornwall takes its name, for that region fell to his lot, and there the hugest giants dwelt, lurking in rocks and caves, till corineus rid the land of them. brutus built his capital city, and called it trojanova (new troy), changed in time to trinovantus, now london; [footnote: "for noble britons sprong from trojans bold, and troynovant was built of old troy's ashes cold" spenser, book iii, canto ix., .] and, having governed the isle twenty-four years, died, leaving three sons, locrine, albanact and camber. locrine had the middle part, camber the west, called cambria from him, and albanact albania, now scotland. locrine was married to guendolen, the daughter of corineus, but having seen a fair maid named estrildis, who had been brought captive from germany, he became enamoured of her, and had by her a daughter, whose name was sabra. this matter was kept secret while corineus lived, but after his death locrine divorced guendolen, and made estrildis his queen. guendolen, all in rage, departed to cornwall, where madan, her son, lived, who had been brought up by corineus, his grandfather. gathering an army of her father's friends and subjects, she gave battle to her husband's forces and locrine was slain. guendolen caused her rival, estrildis, with her daughter sabra, to be thrown into the river, from which cause the river thenceforth bore the maiden's name, which by length of time is now changed into sabrina or severn. milton alludes to this in his address to the rivers,-- "severn swift, guilty of maiden's death";-- and in his "comus" tells the story with a slight variation, thus: "there is a gentle nymph not far from hence, that with moist curb sways the smooth severn stream; sabrina is her name, a virgin pure: whilom she was the daughter of locrine, that had the sceptre from his father, brute, she, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit of her enraged step-dame, guendolen, commended her fair innocence to the flood, that stayed her night with his cross-flowing course the water-nymphs that in the bottom played, held up their pearled wrists and took her in, bearing her straight to aged nereus' hall, who, piteous of her woes, reared her lank head, and gave her to his daughters to imbathe in nectared lavers strewed with asphodel, and through the porch and inlet of each sense dropped in ambrosial oils till she revived, and underwent a quick, immortal change, made goddess of the river," etc. if our readers ask when all this took place, we must answer, in the first place, that mythology is not careful of dates; and next, that, as brutus was the great-grandson of aeneas, it must have been not far from a century subsequent to the trojan war, or about eleven hundred years before the invasion of the island by julius caesar. this long interval is filled with the names of princes whose chief occupation was in warring with one another. some few, whose names remain connected with places, or embalmed in literature, we will mention. bladud bladud built the city of bath, and dedicated the medicinal waters to minerva. he was a man of great invention, and practised the arts of magic, till, having made him wings to fly, he fell down upon the temple of apollo, in trinovant, and so died, after twenty years' reign. leir leir, who next reigned, built leicester, and called it after his name. he had no male issue, but only three daughters. when grown old he determined to divide his kingdom among his daughters, and bestow them in marriage. but first, to try which of them loved him best, he determined to ask them solemnly in order, and judge of the warmth of their affection by their answers. goneril, the eldest, knowing well her father's weakness, made answer that she loved him "above her soul." "since thou so honorest my declining age," said the old man, "to thee and to thy husband i give the third part of my realm." such good success for a few words soon uttered was ample instruction to regan, the second daughter, what to say. she therefore to the same question replied that "she loved him more than all the world beside;" and so received an equal reward with her sister. but cordelia, the youngest, and hitherto the best beloved, though having before her eyes the reward of a little easy soothing, and the loss likely to attend plain- dealing, yet was not moved from the solid purpose of a sincere and virtuous answer, and replied: "father, my love towards you is as my duty bids. they who pretend beyond this flatter." when the old man, sorry to hear this, and wishing her to recall these words, persisted in asking, she still restrained her expressions so as to say rather less than more than the truth. then leir, all in a passion, burst forth: "since thou hast not reverenced thy aged father like thy sisters, think not to have any part in my kingdom or what else i have;"--and without delay, giving in marriage his other daughters, goneril to the duke of albany, and regan to the duke of cornwall, he divides his kingdom between them, and goes to reside with his eldest daughter, attended only by a hundred knights. but in a short time his attendants, being complained of as too numerous and disorderly, are reduced to thirty. resenting that affront, the old king betakes him to his second daughter; but she, instead of soothing his wounded pride, takes part with her sister, and refuses to admit a retinue of more than five. then back he returns to the other, who now will not receive him with more than one attendant. then the remembrance of cordeilla comes to his thoughts, and he takes his journey into france to seek her, with little hope of kind consideration from one whom he had so injured, but to pay her the last recompense he can render,-- confession of his injustice. when cordeilla is informed of his approach, and of his sad condition, she pours forth true filial tears. and, not willing that her own or others' eyes should see him in that forlorn condition, she sends one of her trusted servants to meet him, and convey him privately to some comfortable abode, and to furnish him with such state as befitted his dignity. after which cordeilla, with the king her husband, went in state to meet him, and, after an honorable reception, the king permitted his wife, cordeilla, to go with an army and set her father again upon his throne. they prospered, subdued the wicked sisters and their consorts, and leir obtained the crown and held it three years. cordeilla succeeded him and reigned five years; but the sons of her sisters, after that, rebelled against her, and she lost both her crown and life. shakspeare has chosen this story as the subject of his tragedy of "king lear," varying its details in some respects. the madness of leir, and the ill success of cordeilla's attempt to reinstate her father, are the principal variations, and those in the names will also be noticed. our narrative is drawn from milton's "history;" and thus the reader will perceive that the story of leir has had the distinguished honor of being told by the two acknowledged chiefs of british literature. ferrex and porrex ferrex and porrex were brothers, who held the kingdom after leir. they quarrelled about the supremacy, and porrex expelled his brother, who, obtaining aid from suard, king of the franks, returned and made war upon porrex. ferrex was slain in battle and his forces dispersed. when their mother came to hear of her son's death, who was her favorite, she fell into a great rage, and conceived a mortal hatred against the survivor. she took, therefore, her opportunity when he was asleep, fell upon him, and, with the assistance of her women, tore him in pieces. this horrid story would not be worth relating, were it not for the fact that it has furnished the plot for the first tragedy which was written in the english language. it was entitled "gorboduc," but in the second edition "ferrex and porrex," and was the production of thomas sackville, afterwards earl of dorset, and thomas norton, a barrister. its date was . dunwallo molmutius this is the next name of note. molmutius established the molmutine laws, which bestowed the privilege of sanctuary on temples, cities, and the roads leading to them, and gave the same protection to ploughs, extending a religious sanction to the labors of the field. shakspeare alludes to him in "cymbeline," act iii., scene : "... molmutius made our laws; who was the first of britain which did put his brows within a golden crown, and called himself a king." brennus and belinus, the sons of molmutius, succeeded him. they quarrelled, and brennus was driven out of the island, and took refuge in gaul, where he met with such favor from the king of the allobroges that he gave him his daughter in marriage, and made him his partner on the throne. brennus is the name which the roman historians give to the famous leader of the gauls who took rome in the time of camillus. geoffrey of monmouth claims the glory of the conquest for the british prince, after he had become king of the allobroges. elidure after belinus and brennus there reigned several kings of little note, and then came elidure. arthgallo, his brother, being king, gave great offence to his powerful nobles, who rose against him, deposed him, and advanced elidure to the throne. arthgallo fled, and endeavored to find assistance in the neighboring kingdoms to reinstate him, but found none. elidure reigned prosperously and wisely. after five years' possession of the kingdom, one day, when hunting, he met in the forest his brother, arthgallo, who had been deposed. after long wandering, unable longer to bear the poverty to which he was reduced, he had returned to britain, with only ten followers, designing to repair to those who had formerly been his friends. elidure, at the sight of his brother in distress, forgetting all animosities, ran to him, and embraced him. he took arthgallo home with him, and concealed him in the palace. after this he feigned himself sick, and, calling his nobles about him, induced them, partly by persuasion, partly by force, to consent to his abdicating the kingdom, and reinstating his brother on the throne. the agreement being ratified, elidure took the crown from his own head, and put it on his brother's head. arthgallo after this reigned ten years, well and wisely, exercisng strict justice towards all men. he died, and left the kingdom to his sons, who reigned with various fortunes, but were not long-lived, and left no offspring, so that elidure was again advanced to the throne, and finished the course of his life in just and virtuous actions, receiving the name of the pious, from the love and admiration of his subjects. wordsworth has taken the story of artegal and elidure for the subject of a poem, which is no. of "poems founded on the affections." lud after elidure, the chronicle names many kings, but none of special note, till we come to lud, who greatly enlarged trinovant, his capital, and surrounded it with a wall. he changed its name, bestowing upon it his own, so that henceforth it was called lud's town, afterwards london. lud was buried by the gate of the city called after him ludgate. he had two sons, but they were not old enough at the time of their father's death to sustain the cares of government, and therefore their uncle, caswallaun, or cassibellaunus, succeeded to the kingdom. he was a brave and magnificent prince, so that his fame reached to distant countries. cassibellaunus about this time it happened (as is found in the roman histories) that julius caesar, having subdued gaul, came to the shore opposite britain. and having resolved to add this island also to his conquests, he prepared ships and transported his army across the sea, to the mouth of the river thames. here he was met by cassibellaun with all his forces, and a battle ensued, in which nennius, the brother of cassibellaun, engaged in single combat with csesar. after several furious blows given and received, the sword of caesar stuck so fast in the shield of nennius that it could not be pulled out, and the combatants being separated by the intervention of the troops nennius remained possessed of this trophy. at last, after the greater part of the day was spent, the britons poured in so fast that caesar was forced to retire to his camp and fleet. and finding it useless to continue the war any longer at that time, he returned to gaul. shakspeare alludes to cassibellaunus, in "cymbeline": "the famed cassibelan, who was once at point (o giglot fortune!) to master caesar's sword, made lud's town with rejoicing fires bright, and britons strut with courage." kymbelinus, or cymbeline caesar, on a second invasion of the island, was more fortunate, and compelled the britons to pay tribute. cymbeline, the nephew of the king, was delivered to the romans as a hostage for the faithful fulfilment of the treaty, and, being carried to rome by caesar, he was there brought up in the roman arts and accomplishments. being afterwards restored to his country, and placed on the throne, he was attached to the romans, and continued through all his reign at peace with them. his sons, guiderius and arviragus, who made their appearance in shakspeare's play of "cymbeline," succeeded their father, and, refusing to pay tribute to the romans, brought on another invasion. guiderius was slain, but arviragus afterward made terms with the romans, and reigned prosperously many years. armorica the next event of note is the conquest and colonization of armorica, by maximus, a roman general, and conan, lord of miniadoc or denbigh-land, in wales. the name of the country was changed to brittany, or lesser britain; and so completely was it possessed by the british colonists, that the language became assimilated to that spoken in wales, and it is said that to this day the peasantry of the two countries can understand each other when speaking their native language. the romans eventually succeeded in establishing themselves in the island, and after the lapse of several generations they became blended with the natives so that no distinction existed between the two races. when at length the roman armies were withdrawn from britain, their departure was a matter of regret to the inhabitants, as it left them without protection against the barbarous tribes, scots, picts, and norwegians, who harassed the country incessantly. this was the state of things when the era of king arthur began. the adventure of albion, the giant, with hercules is alluded to by spenser, "faery queene," book iv., canto xi: "for albion the son of neptune was; who for the proof of his great puissance, out of his albion did on dry foot pass into old gaul that now is cleped france, to fight with hercules, that did advance to vanquish all the world with matchless might: and there his mortal part by great mischance was slain." chapter iii merlin merlin was the son of no mortal father, but of an incubus, one of a class of beings not absolutely wicked, but far from good, who inhabit the regions of the air. merlin's mother was a virtuous young woman, who, on the birth of her son, intrusted him to a priest, who hurried him to the baptismal fount, and so saved him from sharing the lot of his father, though he retained many marks of his unearthly origin. at this time vortigern reigned in britain. he was a usurper, who had caused the death of his sovereign, moines, and driven the two brothers of the late king, whose names were uther and pendragon, into banishment. vortigern, who lived in constant fear of the return of the rightful heirs of the kingdom, began to erect a strong tower for defence. the edifice, when brought by the workmen to a certain height, three times fell to the ground, without any apparent cause. the king consulted his astrologers on this wonderful event, and learned from them that it would be necessary to bathe the corner-stone of the foundation with the blood of a child born without a mortal father. in search of such an infant, vortigern sent his messengers all over the kingdom, and they by accident discovered merlin, whose lineage seemed to point him out as the individual wanted. they took him to the king; but merlin, young as he was, explained to the king the absurdity of attempting to rescue the fabric by such means, for he told him the true cause of the instability of the tower was its being placed over the den of two immense dragons, whose combats shook the earth above them. the king ordered his workmen to dig beneath the tower, and when they had done so they discovered two enormous serpents, the one white as milk the other red as fire. the multitude looked on with amazement, till the serpents, slowly rising from their den, and expanding their enormous folds, began the combat, when every one fled in terror, except merlin, who stood by clapping his hands and cheering on the conflict. the red dragon was slain, and the white one, gliding through a cleft in the rock, disappeared. these animals typified, as merlin afterwards explained, the invasion of uther and pendragon, the rightful princes, who soon after landed with a great army. vortigern was defeated, and afterwards burned alive in the castle he had taken such pains to construct. on the death of vortigern, pendragon ascended the throne. merlin became his chief adviser, and often assisted the king by his magical arts. "merlin, who knew the range of all their arts, had built the king his havens, ships and halls." --vivian. among other endowments, he had the power of transforming himself into any shape he pleased. at one time he appeared as a dwarf, at others as a damsel, a page, or even a greyhound or a stag. this faculty he often employed for the service of the king, and sometimes also for the diversion of the court and the sovereign. merlin continued to be a favorite counsellor through the reigns of pendragon, uther, and arthur, and at last disappeared from view, and was no more found among men, through the treachery of his mistress, viviane, the fairy, which happened in this wise. merlin, having become enamoured of the fair viviane, the lady of the lake, was weak enough to impart to her various important secrets of his art, being impelled by fatal destiny, of which he was at the same time fully aware. the lady, however, was not content with his devotion, unbounded as it seems to have been, but "cast about," the romance tells us, how she might "detain him for evermore," and one day addressed him in these terms: "sir, i would that we should make a fair place and a suitable, so contrived by art and by cunning that it might never be undone, and that you and i should be there in joy and solace." "my lady," said merlin, "i will do all this." "sir," said she, "i would not have you do it, but you shall teach me, and i will do it, and then it will be more to my mind." "i grant you this," said merlin. then he began to devise, and the damsel put it all in writing. and when he had devised the whole, then had the damsel full great joy, and showed him greater semblance of love than she had ever before made, and they sojourned together a long while. at length it fell out that, as they were going one day hand in hand through the forest of breceliande, they found a bush of white-thorn, which was laden with flowers; and they seated themselves under the shade of this white-thorn, upon the green grass, and merlin laid his head upon the damsel's lap, and fell asleep. then the damsel rose, and made a ring with her wimple round the bush, and round merlin, and began her enchantments, such as he himself had taught her; and nine times she made the ring, and nine times she made the enchantment, and then she went and sat down by him, and placed his head again upon her lap. "and a sleep fell upon merlin more like death, so deep her finger on her lips; then vivian rose, and from her brown-locked head the wimple throws, and takes it in her hand and waves it over the blossomed thorn tree and her sleeping lover. nine times she waved the fluttering wimple round, and made a little plot of magic ground." --matthew arnold. and when he awoke, and looked round him, it seemed to him that he was enclosed in the strongest tower in the world, and laid upon a fair bed. then said he to the dame: "my lady, you have deceived me, unless you abide with me, for no one hath power to unmake this tower but you alone." she then promised she would be often there, and in this she held her covenant with him. and merlin never went out of that tower where his mistress viviane had enclosed him; but she entered and went out again when she listed. after this event merlin was never more known to hold converse with any mortal but viviane, except on one occasion. arthur, having for some time missed him from his court, sent several of his knights in search of him, and, among the number, sir gawain, who met with a very unpleasant adventure while engaged in this quest. happening to pass a damsel on his road, and neglecting to salute her, she revenged herself for his incivility by transforming him into a hideous dwarf. he was bewailing aloud his evil fortune as he went through the forest of breceliande, when suddenly he heard the voice of one groaning on his right hand; and, looking that way, he could see nothing save a kind of smoke, which seemed like air, and through which he could not pass. merlin then addressed him from out the smoke, and told him by what misadventure he was imprisoned there. "ah, sir!" he added, "you will never see me more, and that grieves me, but i cannot remedy it; i shall never more speak to you, nor to any other person, save only my mistress. but do thou hasten to king arthur, and charge him from me to undertake, without delay, the quest of the sacred graal. the knight is already born, and has received knighthood at his hands, who is destined to accomplish this quest." and after this he comforted gawain under his transformation, assuring him that he should speedily be disenchanted; and he predicted to him that he should find the king at carduel, in wales, on his return, and that all the other knights who had been on like quest would arrive there the same day as himself. and all this came to pass as merlin had said. merlin is frequently introduced in the tales of chivalry, but it is chiefly on great occasions, and at a period subsequent to his death, or magical disappearance. in the romantic poems of italy, and in spenser, merlin is chiefly represented as a magical artist. spenser represents him as the artificer of the impenetrable shield and other armor of prince arthur ("faery queene," book i., canto vii.), and of a mirror, in which a damsel viewed her lover's shade. the fountain of love, in the "orlando innamorata," is described as his work; and in the poem of "ariosto" we are told of a hall adorned with prophetic paintings, which demons had executed in a single night, under the direction of merlin. the following legend is from spenser's "faery queene," book iii., canto iii.: caer-merdin, or caermarthen (in wales), merlin's tower, and the imprisoned fiends. "forthwith themselves disguising both, in straunge and base attire, that none might them bewray, to maridunum, that is now by chaunge of name caer-merdin called, they took their way: there the wise merlin whylome wont (they say) to make his wonne, low underneath the ground in a deep delve, far from the view of day, that of no living wight he mote be found, whenso he counselled with his sprights encompassed round. "and if thou ever happen that same way to travel, go to see that dreadful place; it is a hideous hollow cave (they say) under a rock that lies a little space from the swift barry, tombling down apace amongst the woody hills of dynevor; but dare not thou, i charge, in any case, to enter into that same baleful bower, for fear the cruel fiends should thee unwares devour. "but standing high aloft, low lay thine ear, and there such ghastly noise of iron chains and brazen cauldrons thou shalt rumbling hear, which thousand sprites with long enduring pains do toss, that it will stun thy feeble brains; and oftentimes great groans, and grievous stounds, when too huge toil and labor them constrains; and oftentimes loud strokes and ringing sounds from under that deep rock most horribly rebounds. "the cause some say is this. a little while before that merlin died, he did intend a brazen wall in compas to compile about caermerdin, and did it commend unto these sprites to bring to perfect end; during which work the lady of the lake, whom long he loved, for him in haste did send; who, thereby forced his workmen to forsake, them bound till his return their labor not to slack. "in the mean time, through that false lady's train, he was surprised, and buried under beare, he ever to his work returned again; nathless those fiends may not their work forbear, so greatly his commandement they fear; but there do toil and travail day and night, until that brazen wall they up do rear. for merlin had in magic more insight than ever him before or after living wight." [footnote: buried under beare. buried under something which enclosed him like a coffin or bier.] chapter iv arthur we shall begin our history of king arthur by giving those particulars of his life which appear to rest on historical evidence; and then proceed to record those legends concerning him which form the earliest portion of british literature. arthur was a prince of the tribe of britons called silures, whose country was south wales, the son of uther, named pendragon, a title given to an elective sovereign, paramount over the many kings of britain. he appears to have commenced his martial career about the year , and was raised to the pendragonship about ten years later. he is said to have gained twelve victories over the saxons. the most important of them was that of badon, by some supposed to be bath, by others berkshire. this was the last of his battles with the saxons, and checked their progress so effectually, that arthur experienced no more annoyance from them, and reigned in peace, until the revolt of his nephew modred, twenty years later, which led to the fatal battle of camlan, in cornwall, in . modred was slain, and arthur, mortally wounded, was conveyed by sea to glastonbury, where he died, and was buried. tradition preserved the memory of the place of his interment within the abbey, as we are told by giraldus cambrensis, who was present when the grave was opened by command of henry ii. about , and saw the bones and sword of the monarch, and a leaden cross let into his tombstone, with the inscription in rude roman letters, "here lies buried the famous king arthur, in the island avalonia." this story has been elegantly versified by warton. a popular traditional belief was long entertained among the britons, that arthur was not dead, but had been carried off to be healed of his wounds in fairy-land, and that he would reappear to avenge his countrymen and reinstate them in the sovereignty of britain. in warton's "ode" a bard relates to king henry the traditional story of arthur's death, and closes with these lines. "yet in vain a paynim foe armed with fate the mighty blow: for when he fell, the elfin queen, all in secret and unseen, o'er the fainting hero threw her mantle of ambrosial blue, and bade her spirits bear him far, in merlin's agate-axled car, to her green isle's enamelled steep, far in the navel of the deep. o'er his wounds she sprinkled dew from flowers that in arabia grew. there he reigns a mighty king, thence to britain shall return, if right prophetic rolls i learn, borne on victory's spreading plume, his ancient sceptre to resume, his knightly table to restore, and brave the tournaments of yore." after this narration another bard came forward who recited a different story: "when arthur bowed his haughty crest, no princess veiled in azure vest snatched him, by merlin's powerful spell, in groves of golden bliss to dwell; but when he fell, with winged speed, his champions, on a milk-white steed, from the battle's hurricane, bore him to joseph's towered fane, in the fair vale of avalon; there, with chanted orison and the long blaze of tapers clear, the stoled fathers met the bier; through the dim aisles, in order dread of martial woe, the chief they led, and deep entombed in holy ground, before the altar's solemn bound." [footnote: glastonbury abbey, said to be founded by joseph of arimathea, in a spot anciently called the island or valley of avalonia. tennyson, in his "palace of art," alludes to the legend of arthur's rescue by the faery queen, thus: "or mythic uther's deeply wounded son, in some fair space of sloping greens, lay dozing in the vale of avalon, and watched by weeping queens."] it must not be concealed that the very existence of arthur has been denied by some. milton says of him: "as to arthur, more renowned in songs and romances than in true stories, who he was, and whether ever any such reigned in britain, hath been doubted heretofore, and may again, with good reason." modern critics, however, admit that there was a prince of this name, and find proof of it in the frequent mention of him in the writings of the welsh bards. but the arthur of romance, according to mr. owen, a welsh scholar and antiquarian, is a mythological person. "arthur," he says, "is the great bear, as the name literally implies (arctos, arcturus), and perhaps this constellation, being so near the pole, and visibly describing a circle in a small space, is the origin of the famous round table." king arthur constans, king of britain, had three sons, moines, ambrosius, otherwise called uther, and pendragon. moines, soon after his accession to the crown, was vanquished by the saxons, in consequence of the treachery of his seneschal, vortigern, and growing unpopular, through misfortune, he was killed by his subjects, and the traitor vortigern chosen in his place. vortigern was soon after defeated in a great battle by uther and pendragon, the surviving brothers of moines, and pendragon ascended the throne. this prince had great confidence in the wisdom of merlin, and made him his chief adviser. about this time a dreadful war arose between the saxons and britons. merlin obliged the royal brothers to swear fidelity to each other, but predicted that one of them must fall in the first battle. the saxons were routed, and pendragon, being slain, was succeeded by uther, who now assumed in addition to his own name the appellation of pendragon. merlin still continued a favorite counsellor. at the request of uther he transported by magic art enormous stones from ireland, to form the sepulchre of pendragon. these stones constitute the monument now called stonehenge, on salisbury plain. merlin next proceeded to carlisle to prepare the round table, at which he seated an assemblage of the great nobles of the country. the companions admitted to this high order were bound by oath to assist each other at the hazard of their own lives, to attempt singly the most perilous adventures, to lead, when necessary, a life of monastic solitude, to fly to arms at the first summons, and never to retire from battle till they had defeated the enemy, unless night intervened and separated the combatants. soon after this institution, the king invited all his barons to the celebration of a great festival, which he proposed holding annually at carlisle. as the knights had obtained the sovereign's permission to bring their ladies along with them, the beautiful igerne accompanied her husband, gorlois, duke of tintadel, to one of these anniversaries. the king became deeply enamoured of the duchess, and disclosed his passion; but igerne repelled his advances, and revealed his solicitations to her husband. on hearing this, the duke instantly removed from court with igerne, and without taking leave of uther. the king complained to his council of this want of duty, and they decided that the duke should be summoned to court, and, if refractory, should be treated as a rebel. as he refused to obey the citation, the king carried war into the estates of his vassal and besieged him in the strong castle of tintadel. merlin transformed the king into the likeness of gorlois, and enabled him to have many stolen interviews with igerne. at length the duke was killed in battle and the king espoused igerne. from this union sprang arthur, who succeeded his father, uther, upon the throne. arthur chosen king arthur, though only fifteen years old at his father's death, was elected king, at a general meeting of the nobles. it was not done without opposition, for there were many ambitious competitors. "for while he linger'd there a doubt that ever smoulder'd in the hearts of those great lords and barons of his realm flash'd forth and into war: for most of these made head against him, crying, 'who is he that he should rule us? who hath proven him king uther's son? for lo! we look at him, and find nor face nor bearing, limbs nor voice, are like to those of uther whom we knew." --coming of arthur. but bishop brice, a person of great sanctity, on christmas eve addressed the assembly, and represented that it would well become them, at that solemn season, to put up their prayers for some token which should manifest the intentions of providence respecting their future sovereign. this was done, and with such success, that the service was scarcely ended when a miraculous stone was discovered before the church door, and in the stone was firmly fixed a sword, with the following words engraven on its hilt: "i am hight escalibore, unto a king fair tresore." bishop brice, after exhorting the assembly to offer up their thanksgiving for this signal miracle, proposed a law, that whoever should be able to draw out the sword from the stone, should be acknowledged as sovereign of the britons; and his proposal was decreed by general acclamation. the tributary kings of uther, and the most famous knights, successively put their strength to the proof, but the miraculous sword resisted all their efforts. it stood till candlemas; it stood till easter, and till pentecost, when the best knights in the kingdom usually assembled for the annual tournament. arthur, who was at that time serving in the capacity of squire to his foster-brother, sir kay, attended his master to the lists. sir kay fought with great valor and success, but had the misfortune to break his sword, and sent arthur to his mother for a new one. arthur hastened home, but did not find the lady; but having observed near the church a sword, sticking in a stone, he galloped to the place, drew out the sword with great ease, and delivered it to his master. sir kay would willingly have assumed to himself the distinction conferred by the possession of the sword, but when, to confirm the doubters, the sword was replaced in the stone he was utterly unable to withdraw it, and it would yield a second time to no hand but arthur's. thus decisively pointed out by heaven as their king, arthur was by general consent proclaimed as such, and an early day appointed for his solemn coronation. immediately after his election to the crown, arthur found himself opposed by eleven kings and one duke, who with a vast army were actually encamped in the forest of rockingham. by merlin's advice arthur sent an embassy to brittany, to solicit the aid of king ban and king bohort, two of the best knights in the world. they accepted the call, and with a powerful army crossed the sea, landing at portsmouth, where they were received with great rejoicing. the rebel kings were still superior in numbers; but merlin, by a powerful enchantment, caused all their tents to fall down at once, and in the confusion arthur with his allies fell upon them and totally routed them. after defeating the rebels, arthur took the field against the saxons. as they were too strong for him unaided, he sent an embassy to armorica, beseeching the assistance of hoel, who soon after brought over an army to his aid. the two kings joined their forces, and sought the enemy, whom they met, and both sides prepared for a decisive engagement. "arthur himself," as geoffrey of monmouth relates, "dressed in a breastplate worthy of so great a king, places on his head a golden helmet engraved with the semblance of a dragon. over his shoulders he throws his shield called priwen, on which a picture of the holy virgin constantly recalled her to his memory. girt with caliburn, a most excellent sword, and fabricated in the isle of avalon, he graces his right hand with the lance named ron. this was a long and broad spear, well contrived for slaughter." after a severe conflict, arthur, calling on the name of the virgin, rushes into the midst of his enemies, and destroys multitudes of them with the formidable caliburn, and puts the rest to flight. hoel, being detained by sickness, took no part in this battle. this is called the victory of mount badon, and, however disguised by fable, it is regarded by historians as a real event. the feats performed by arthur at the battle of badon mount are thus celebrated in drayton's verse: "they sung how he himself at badon bore, that day, when at the glorious goal his british sceptre lay; two daies together how the battel stronglie stood; pendragon's worthie son, who waded there in blood, three hundred saxons slew with his owne valiant hand." --song iv. guenever merlin had planned for arthur a marriage with the daughter of king laodegan of carmalide. by his advice arthur paid a visit to the court of that sovereign, attended only by merlin and by thirty- nine knights whom the magician had selected for that service. on their arrival they found laodegan and his peers sitting in council, endeavoring, but with small prospect of success, to devise means of resisting the impending attack of ryence, king of ireland, who, with fifteen tributary kings and an almost innumerable army, had nearly surrounded the city. merlin, who acted as leader of the band of british knights, announced them as strangers, who came to offer the king their services in his wars; but under the express condition that they should be at liberty to conceal their names and quality until they should think proper to divulge them. these terms were thought very strange, but were thankfully accepted, and the strangers, after taking the usual oath to the king, retired to the lodging which merlin had prepared for them. a few days after this, the enemy, regardless of a truce into which they had entered with king laodegan, suddenly issued from their camp and made an attempt to surprise the city. cleodalis, the king's general, assembled the royal forces with all possible despatch. arthur and his companions also flew to arms, and merlin appeared at their head, bearing a standard on which was emblazoned a terrific dragon. merlin advanced to the gate, and commanded the porter to open it, which the porter refused to do, without the king's order. merlin thereupon took up the gate, with all its appurtenances of locks, bars, bolts, etc., and directed his troops to pass through, after which he replaced it in perfect order. he then set spurs to his horse and dashed, at the head of his little troop, into a body of two thousand pagans. the disparity of numbers being so enormous, merlin cast a spell upon the enemy, so as to prevent their seeing the small number of their assailants; notwithstanding which the british knights were hard pressed. but the people of the city, who saw from the walls this unequal contest, were ashamed of leaving the small body of strangers to their fate, so they opened the gate and sallied forth. the numbers were now more nearly equal, and merlin revoked his spell, so that the two armies encountered on fair terms. where arthur, ban, bohort, and the rest fought the king's army had the advantage; but in another part of the field the king himself was surrounded and carried off by the enemy. the sad sight was seen by guenever, the fair daughter of the king, who stood on the city wall and looked at the battle. she was in dreadful distress, tore her hair, and swooned away. but merlin, aware of what passed in every part of the field, suddenly collected his knights, led them out of the battle, intercepted the passage of the party who were carrying away the king, charged them with irresistible impetuosity, cut in pieces or dispersed the whole escort, and rescued the king. in the fight arthur encountered caulang, a giant fifteen feet high, and the fair guenever, who had already began to feel a strong interest in the handsome young stranger, trembled for the issue of the contest. but arthur, dealing a dreadful blow on the shoulder of the monster, cut through his neck so that his head hung over on one side, and in this condition his horse carried him about the field, to the great horror and dismay of the pagans. guenever could not refrain from expressing aloud her wish that the gentle knight, who dealt with giants so dexterously, were destined to become her husband, and the wish was echoed by her attendants. the enemy soon turned their backs and fled with precipitation, closely pursued by laodegan and his allies. after the battle arthur was disarmed and conducted to the bath by the princess guenever, while his friends were attended by the other ladies of the court. after the bath the knights were conducted to a magnificent entertainment, at which they were diligently served by the same fair attendants. laodegan, more and more anxious to know the name and quality of his generous deliverers, and occasionally forming a secret wish that the chief of his guests might be captivated by the charms of his daughter, appeared silent and pensive, and was scarcely roused from his reverie by the banters of his courtiers. arthur, having had an opportunity of explaining to guenever his great esteem for her merit, was in the joy of his heart, and was still further delighted by hearing from merlin the late exploits of gawain at london, by means of which his immediate return to his dominions was rendered unnecessary, and he was left at liberty to protract his stay at the court of laodegan. every day contributed to increase the admiration of the whole court for the gallant strangers, and the passion of guenever for their chief; and when at last merlin announced to the king that the object of the visit of the party was to procure a bride for their leader, laodegan at once presented guenever to arthur, telling him that, whatever might be his rank, his merit was sufficient to entitle him to the possession of the heiress of carmalide. "and could he find a woman in her womanhood as great as he was in his manhood-- the twain together might change the world." --guinevere. arthur accepted the lady with the utmost gratitude, and merlin then proceeded to satisfy the king of the rank of his son-in-law; upon which laodegan, with all his barons, hastened to do homage to their lawful sovereign, the successor of uther pendragon. the fair guenever was then solemnly betrothed to arthur, and a magnificent festival was proclaimed, which lasted seven days. at the end of that time, the enemy appearing again with renewed force, it became necessary to resume military operations. [footnote: guenever, the name of arthur's queen, also written genievre and geneura, is familiar to all who are conversant with chivalric lore. it is to her adventures, and those of her true knight, sir launcelot, that dante alludes in the beautiful episode of francesca di rimini.] we must now relate what took place at and near london, while arthur was absent from his capital. at this very time a band of young heroes were on their way to arthur's court, for the purpose of receiving knighthood from him. they were gawain and his three brothers, nephews of arthur, sons of king lot, and galachin, another nephew, son of king nanters. king lot had been one of the rebel chiefs whom arthur had defeated, but he now hoped by means of the young men to be reconciled to his brother-in-law. he equipped his sons and his nephew with the utmost magnificence, giving them a splendid retinue of young men, sons of earls and barons, all mounted on the best horses, with complete suits of choice armor. they numbered in all seven hundred, but only nine had yet received the order of knighthood; the rest were candidates for that honor, and anxious to earn it by an early encounter with the enemy. gawain, the leader, was a knight of wonderful strength; but what was most remarkable about him was that his strength was greater at certain hours of the day than at others. from nine o'clock till noon his strength was doubled, and so it was from three to evensong; for the rest of the time it was less remarkable, though at all times surpassing that of ordinary men. after a march of three days they arrived in the vicinity of london, where they expected to find arthur and his court, and very unexpectedly fell in with a large convoy belonging to the enemy, consisting of numerous carts and wagons, all loaded with provisions, and escorted by three thousand men, who had been collecting spoil from all the country round. a single charge from gawain's impetuous cavalry was sufficient to disperse the escort and recover the convoy, which was instantly despatched to london. but before long a body of seven thousand fresh soldiers advanced to the attack of the five princes and their little army. gawain, singling out a chief named choas, of gigantic size, began the battle by splitting him from the crown of the head to the breast. galachin encountered king sanagran, who was also very huge, and cut off his head. agrivain and gahariet also performed prodigies of valor. thus they kept the great army of assailants at bay, though hard pressed, till of a sudden they perceived a strong body of the citizens advancing from london, where the convoy which had been recovered by gawain had arrived, and informed the mayor and citizens of the danger of their deliverer. the arrival of the londoners soon decided the contest. the enemy fled in all directions, and gawain and his friends, escorted by the grateful citizens, entered london, and were received with acclamations. chapter v arthur (continued) after the great victory of mount badon, by which the saxons were for the time effectually put down, arthur turned his arms against the scots and picts, whom he routed at lake lomond, and compelled to sue for mercy. he then went to york to keep his christmas, and employed himself in restoring the christian churches which the pagans had rifled and overthrown. the following summer he conquered ireland, and then made a voyage with his fleet to iceland, which he also subdued. the kings of gothland and of the orkneys came voluntarily and made their submission, promising to pay tribute. then he returned to britain, where, having established the kingdom, he dwelt twelve years in peace. during this time he invited over to him all persons whatsoever that were famous for valor in foreign nations, and augmented the number of his domestics, and introduced such politeness into his court as people of the remotest countries thought worthy of their imitation. so that there was not a nobleman who thought himself of any consideration unless his clothes and arms were made in the same fashion as those of arthur's knights. finding himself so powerful at home, arthur began to form designs for extending his power abroad. so, having prepared his fleet, he first attempted norway, that he might procure the crown of it for lot, his sister's husband. arthur landed in norway, fought a great battle with the king of that country, defeated him, and pursued the victory till he had reduced the whole country under his dominion, and established lot upon the throne. then arthur made a voyage to gaul and laid siege to the city of paris. gaul was at that time a roman province, and governed by flollo, the tribune. when the siege of paris had continued a month, and the people began to suffer from famine, flollo challenged arthur to single combat, proposing to decide the conquest of the province in that way. arthur gladly accepted the challenge, and slew his adversary in the contest, upon which the citizens surrendered the city to him. after the victory arthur divided his army into two parts, one of which he committed to the conduct of hoel, whom he ordered to march into aquitaine, while he with the other part should endeavor to subdue the other provinces. at the end of nine years, in which time all the parts of gaul were entirely reduced, arthur returned to paris, where he kept his court, and, calling an assembly of the clergy and people, established peace and the just administration of the laws in that kingdom. then he bestowed normandy upon bedver, his butler, and the province of andegavia upon kay, his steward, [footnote: this name, in the french romances, is spelled queux, which means head cook. this would seem to imply that it was a title, and not a name; yet the personage who bore it is never mentioned by any other. he is the chief, if not the only, comic character among the heroes of arthur's court. he is the seneschal or steward, his duties also embracing those of chief of the cooks. in the romances, his general character is a compound of valor and buffoonery, always ready to fight, and generally getting the worst of the battle. he is also sarcastic and abusive in his remarks, by which he often gets into trouble. yet arthur seems to have an attachment to him, and often takes his advice, which is generally wrong.] and several other provinces upon his great men that attended him. and, having settled the peace of the cities and countries, he returned back in the beginning of spring to britain. upon the approach of the feast of pentecost, arthur, the better to demonstrate his joy after such triumphant successes, and for the more solemn observation of that festival, and reconciling the minds of the princes that were now subject to him, resolved during that season to hold a magnificent court, to place the crown upon his head, and to invite all the kings and dukes under his subjection to the solemnity. and he pitched upon caerleon, the city of legions, as the proper place for his purpose. for, besides its great wealth above the other cities, its situation upon the river usk, near the severn sea, was most pleasant and fit for so great a solemnity. for on one side it was washed by that noble river, so that the kings and princes from the countries beyond the seas might have the convenience of sailing up to it. on the other side the beauty of the meadows and groves, and magnificence of the royal palaces, with lofty gilded roofs that adorned it, made it even rival the grandeur of rome. it was also famous for two churches, whereof one was adorned with a choir of virgins, who devoted themselves wholly to the service of god, and the other maintained a convent of priests. besides, there was a college of two hundred philosophers, who, being learned in astronomy and the other arts, were diligent in observing the courses of the stars, and gave arthur true predictions of the events that would happen. in this place, therefore, which afforded such delights, were preparations made for the ensuing festival. [footnote: several cities are allotted to king arthur by the romance-writers. the principal are caerleon, camelot, and carlisle. caerleon derives its name from its having been the station of one of the legions, during the dominion of the romans. it is called by latin writers urbs legionum, the city of legions. the former word being rendered into welsh by caer, meaning city, and the latter contracted into lleon. the river usk retains its name in modern geography, and there is a town or city of caerleon upon it, though the city of cardiff is thought to be the scene of arthur's court. chester also bears in welsh the name of caerleon; for chester, derived from castra, latin for camp, is the designation of military headquarters. camelot is thought to be winchester. shalott is guilford. hamo's port is southampton. carlisle is the city still retaining that name, near the scottish border. but this name is also sometimes applied to other places, which were, like itself, military stations.] ambassadors were then sent into several kingdoms, to invite to court the princes both of gaul and of the adjacent islands. accordingly there came augusel, king of albania, now scotland, cadwallo, king of venedotia, now north wales, sater, king of demetia, now south wales; also the archbishops of the metropolitan sees, london and york, and dubricius, bishop of caerleon, the city of legions. this prelate, who was primate of britain, was so eminent for his piety that he could cure any sick person by his prayers. there were also the counts of the principal cities, and many other worthies of no less dignity. from the adjacent islands came guillamurius, king of ireland, gunfasius, king of the orkneys, malvasius, king of iceland, lot, king of norway, bedver, the butler, duke of normandy, kay, the sewer, duke of andegavia; also the twelve peers of gaul, and hoel, duke of the armorican britons, with his nobility, who came with such a train of mules, horses, and rich furniture as it is difficult to describe. besides these there remained no prince of any consideration on this side of spain who came not upon this invitation. and no wonder, when arthur's munificence, which was celebrated over the whole world, made him beloved by all people. when all were assembled upon the day of the solemnity the archbishops were conducted to the palace, in order to place the crown upon the king's head. then dubricius, inasmuch as the court was held in his diocese, made himself ready to celebrate the office. as soon as the king was invested with his royal habiliments he was conducted in great pomp to the metropolitan church, having four kings, viz., of albania, cornwall, demetia, and venedotia, bearing four golden swords before him. on another part was the queen, dressed out in her richest ornaments, conducted by the archbishops and bishops to the church of virgins; the four queens, also, of the kings last mentioned, bearing before her four white doves, according to ancient custom. when the whole procession was ended so transporting was the harmony of the musical instruments and voices, whereof there was a vast variety in both churches, that the knights who attended were in doubt which to prefer, and therefore crowded from the one to the other by turns, and were far from being tired of the solemnity, though the whole day had been spent in it. at last, when divine service was over at both churches, the king and queen put off their crowns, and, putting on their lighter ornaments, went to the banquet. when they had all taken their seats according to precedence, kay, the sewer, in rich robes of ermine, with a thousand young noblemen all in like manner clothed in rich attire, served up the dishes. from another part bedver, the butler, was followed by the same number of attendants, who waited with all kinds of cups and drinking-vessels. and there was food and drink in abundance, and everything was of the best kind, and served in the best manner. for at that time britain had arrived at such a pitch of grandeur that in riches, luxury, and politeness it far surpassed all other kingdoms. as soon as the banquets were over they went into the fields without the city to divert themselves with various sports, such as shooting with bows and arrows, tossing the pike, casting of heavy stones and rocks, playing at dice, and the like, and all these inoffensively, and without quarrelling. in this manner were three days spent, and after that they separated, and the kings and noblemen departed to their several homes. after this arthur reigned five years in peace. then came ambassadors from lucius tiberius, procurator under leo, emperor of rome, demanding tribute. but arthur refused to pay tribute, and prepared for war. as soon as the necessary dispositions were made he committed the government of his kingdom to his nephew modred and to queen guenever, and marched with his army to hamo's port, where the wind stood fair for him. the army crossed over in safety, and landed at the mouth of the river barba. and there they pitched their tents to wait the arrival of the kings of the islands. as soon as all the forces were arrived arthur marched forward to augustodunum, and encamped on the banks of the river alba. here repeated battles were fought, in all which the britons, under their valiant leaders, hoel, duke of armorica, and gawain, nephew to arthur, had the advantage. at length lucius tiberius determined to retreat, and wait for the emperor leo to join him with fresh troops. but arthur, anticipating this event, took possession of a certain valley, and closed up the way of retreat to lucius, compelling him to fight a decisive battle, in which arthur lost some of the bravest of his knights and most faithful followers. but on the other hand lucius tiberius was slain, and his army totally defeated. the fugitives dispersed over the country, some to the by-ways and woods, some to cities and towns, and all other places where they could hope for safety. arthur stayed in those parts till the next winter was over, and employed his time in restoring order and settling the government. he then returned into england, and celebrated his victories with great splendor. then the king stablished all his knights, and to them that were not rich he gave lands, and charged them all never to do outrage nor murder, and always to flee treason; also, by no means to be cruel, but to give mercy unto him that asked mercy, upon pain of forfeiture of their worship and lordship; and always to do ladies, damosels, and gentlewomen service, upon pain of death. also that no man take battle in a wrongful quarrel, for no law, nor for any world's goods. unto this were all the knights sworn of the table round, both old and young. and at every year were they sworn at the high feast of pentecost. king arthur slays the giant of st. michael's mount while the army was encamped in brittany, awaiting the arrival of the kings, there came a countryman to arthur, and told him that a giant, whose cave was on a neighboring mountain, called st. michael's mount, had for a long time been accustomed to carry off the children of the peasants to devour them. "and now he hath taken the duchess of brittany, as she rode with her attendants, and hath carried her away in spite of all they could do." "now, fellow," said king arthur, "canst thou bring me there where this giant haunteth?" "yea, sure," said the good man; "lo, yonder where thou seest two great fires, there shalt thou find him, and more treasure than i suppose is in all france beside." then the king called to him sir bedver and sir kay, and commanded them to make ready horse and harness for himself and them; for after evening he would ride on pilgrimage to st. michael's mount. so they three departed, and rode forth till they came to the foot of the mount. and there the king commanded them to tarry, for he would himself go up into that mount. so he ascended the hill till he came to a great fire, and there he found an aged woman sitting by a new-made grave, making great sorrow. then king arthur saluted her, and demanded of her wherefore she made such lamentation; to whom she answered: "sir knight, speak low, for yonder is a devil, and if he hear thee speak, he will come and destroy thee. for ye cannot make resistance to him, he is so fierce and so strong. he hath murdered the duchess, which here lieth, who was the fairest of all the world, wife to sir hoel, duke of brittany." "dame," said the king, "i come from the noble conqueror, king arthur, to treat with that tyrant." "fie on such treaties," said she; "he setteth not by the king, nor by no man else." "well," said arthur, "i will accomplish my message for all your fearful words." so he went forth by the crest of the hill, and saw where the giant sat at supper, gnawing on the limb of a man, and baking his broad limbs at the fire, and three fair damsels lying bound, whose lot it was to be devoured in their turn. when king arthur beheld that, he had great compassion on them, so that his heart bled for sorrow. then he hailed the giant, saying, "he that all the world ruleth give thee short life and shameful death. why hast thou murdered this duchess? therefore come forth, for this day thou shalt die by my hand." then the giant started up, and took a great club, and smote at the king, and smote off his coronal; and then the king struck him in the belly with his sword, and made a fearful wound. then the giant threw away his club, and caught the king in his arms, so that he crushed his ribs. then the three maidens kneeled down and prayed for help and comfort for arthur. and arthur weltered and wrenched, so that he was one while under, and another time above. and so weltering and wallowing they rolled down the hill, and ever as they weltered arthur smote him with his dagger; and it fortuned they came to the place where the two knights were. and when they saw the king fast in the giant's arms they came and loosed him. then the king commanded sir kay to smite off the giant's head, and to set it on the truncheon of a spear, and fix it on the barbican, that all the people might see and behold it. this was done, and anon it was known through all the country, wherefor the people came and thanked the king. and he said, "give your thanks to god; and take ye the giant's spoil and divide it among you." and king arthur caused a church to be builded on that hill, in honor of st. michael. king arthur gets a sword from the lady of the lake one day king arthur rode forth, and on a sudden he was ware of three churls chasing merlin, to have slain him. and the king rode unto them and bade them, "flee, churls!" then were they afraid when they saw a knight, and fled. "o merlin," said arthur, "here hadst thou been slain, for all thy crafts, had i not been by." "nay," said merlin, "not so, for i could save myself if i would; but thou art more near thy death than i am." so, as they went thus talking, king arthur perceived where sat a knight on horseback, as if to guard the pass. "sir knight," said arthur, "for what cause abidest thou here?" then the knight said, "there may no knight ride this way unless he just with me, for such is the custom of the pass." "i will amend that custom," said the king. then they ran together, and they met so hard that their spears were shivered. then they drew their swords and fought a strong battle, with many great strokes. but at length the sword of the knight smote king arthur's sword in two pieces. then said the knight unto arthur, "thou art in my power, whether to save thee or slay thee, and unless thou yield thee as overcome and recreant, thou shalt die." "as for death," said king arthur, "welcome be it when it cometh; but to yield me unto thee as recreant, i will not." then he leapt upon the knight, and took him by the middle and threw him down; but the knight was a passing strong man, and anon he brought arthur under him, and would have razed off his helm to slay him. then said merlin, "knight, hold thy hand, for this knight is a man of more worship than thou art aware of." "why, who is he?" said the knight. "it is king arthur." then would he have slain him for dread of his wrath, and lifted up his sword to slay him; and therewith merlin cast an enchantment on the knight, so that he fell to the earth in a great sleep. then merlin took up king arthur, and set him on his horse. "alas!" said arthur, "what hast thou done, merlin? hast thou slain this good knight by thy crafts?" "care ye not," said merlin; "he is wholer than ye be. he is only asleep, and will wake in three hours." then the king and he departed, and went till they came to a hermit, that was a good man and a great leech. so the hermit searched all his wounds, and applied good salves; and the king was there three days, and then were his wounds well amended, that he might ride and go. so they departed, and as they rode arthur said, "i have no sword." "no matter," said merlin; "hereby is a sword that shall be yours." so they rode till they came to a lake, which was a fair water and broad. and in the midst of the lake arthur was aware of an arm clothed in white samite, [footnote: samite, a sort of silk stuff.] that held a fair sword in the hand. "lo!" said merlin, "yonder is that sword that i spake of. it belongeth to the lady of the lake, and, if she will, thou mayest take it; but if she will not, it will not be in thy power to take it." so sir arthur and merlin alighted from their horses, and went into a boat. and when they came to the sword that the hand held sir arthur took it by the handle and took it to him, and the arm and the hand went under the water. then they returned unto the land and rode forth. and sir arthur looked on the sword and liked it right well. so they rode unto caerleon, whereof his knights were passing glad. and when they heard of his adventures they marvelled that he would jeopard his person so alone. but all men of worship said it was a fine thing to be under such a chieftain as would put his person in adventure as other poor knights did. chapter vi sir gawain sir gawain was nephew to king arthur, by his sister morgana, married to lot, king of orkney, who was by arthur made king of norway. sir gawain was one of the most famous knights of the round table, and is characterized by the romancers as the sage and courteous gawain. to this chaucer alludes in his "squiere's tale," where the strange knight "salueth" all the court "with so high reverence and observance, as well in speeche as in countenance, that gawain, with his olde curtesie, though he were come agen out of faerie, ne coude him not amenden with a word." gawain's brothers were agrivain, gahariet, and gareth. sir gawain's marriage once upon a time king arthur held his court in merry carlisle, when a damsel came before him and craved a boon. it was for vengeance upon a caitiff knight, who had made her lover captive and despoiled her of her lands. king arthur commanded to bring him his sword, excalibar, and to saddle his steed, and rode forth without delay to right the lady's wrong. ere long he reached the castle of the grim baron, and challenged him to the conflict. but the castle stood on magic ground, and the spell was such that no knight could tread thereon but straight his courage fell and his strength decayed. king arthur felt the charm, and before a blow was struck, his sturdy limbs lost their strength, and his head grew faint. he was fain to yield himself prisoner to the churlish knight, who refused to release him except upon condition that he should return at the end of a year, and bring a true answer to the question, "what thing is it which women most desire?" or in default thereof surrender himself and his lands. king arthur accepted the terms, and gave his oath to return at the time appointed. during the year the king rode east, and he rode west, and inquired of all whom he met what thing it is which all women most desire. some told him riches; some, pomp and state; some, mirth; some, flattery; and some, a gallant knight. but in the diversity of answers he could find no sure dependence. the year was well-nigh spent, when one day, as he rode thoughtfully through a forest, he saw sitting beneath a tree a lady of such hideous aspect that he turned away his eyes, and when she greeted him in seemly sort, made no answer. "what wight art thou," the lady said, "that will not speak to me? it may chance that i may resolve thy doubts, though i be not fair of aspect." "if thou wilt do so," said king arthur, "choose what reward thou wilt, thou grim lady, and it shall be given thee." "swear me this upon thy faith," she said, and arthur swore it. then the lady told him the secret, and demanded her reward, which was that the king should find some fair and courtly knight to be her husband. king arthur hastened to the grim baron's castle and told him one by one all the answers which he had received from his various advisers, except the last, and not one was admitted as the true one. "now yield thee, arthur," the giant said, "for thou hast not paid thy ransom, and thou and thy lands are forfeited to me." then king arthur said: "yet hold thy hand, thou proud baron, i pray thee hold thy hand, and give me leave to speak once more, in rescue of my land. this morn as i came over a moor, i saw a lady set, between an oak and a green holly, all clad in red scarlett. she says all women would have their will, this is their chief desire; now yield, as thou art a baron true, that i have paid my hire." "it was my sister that told thee this," the churlish baron exclaimed. "vengeance light on her! i will some time or other do her as ill a turn." king arthur rode homeward, but not light of heart, for he remembered the promise he was under to the loathly lady to--give her one of his young and gallant knights for a husband. he told his grief to sir gawain, his nephew, and he replied, "be not sad, my lord, for i will marry the loathly lady." king arthur replied: "now nay, now nay, good sir gawaine, my sister's son ye be; the loathly lady's all too grim, and all too foule for thee." but gawain persisted, and the king at last, with sorrow of heart, consented that gawain should be his ransom. so one day the king and his knights rode to the forest, met the loathly lady, and brought her to the court. sir gawain stood the scoffs and jeers of his companions as he best might, and the marriage was solemnized, but not with the usual festivities. chaucer tells us: "... there was no joye ne feste at alle; there n' as but hevinesse and mochel sorwe, for prively he wed her on the morwe, and all day after hid him as an owle, so wo was him his wife loked so foule!" [footnote: n'as is not was, contracted; in modern phrase, there was not. mochel sorwe is much sorrow; morwe is morrow.] when night came, and they were alone together, sir gawain could not conceal his aversion; and the lady asked him why he sighed so heavily, and turned away his face. he candidly confessed it was on account of three things, her age, her ugliness, and her low degree. the lady, not at all offended, replied with excellent arguments to all his objections. she showed him that with age is discretion, with ugliness security from rivals, and that all true gentility depends, not upon the accident of birth, but upon the character of the individual. sir gawain made no reply; but, turning his eyes on his bride, what was his amazement to perceive that she wore no longer the unseemly aspect that had so distressed him. she then told him that the form she had worn was not her true form, but a disguise imposed upon her by a wicked enchanter, and that she was condemned to wear it until two things should happen: one, that she should obtain some young and gallant knight to be her husband. this having been done, one-half of the charm was removed. she was now at liberty to wear her true form for half the time, and she bade him choose whether he would have her fair by day, and ugly by night, or the reverse. sir gawain would fain have had her look her best by night, when he alone would see her, and show her repulsive visage, if at all, to others. but she reminded him how much more pleasant it would be to her to wear her best looks in the throng of knights and ladies by day. sir gawain yielded, and gave up his will to hers. this alone was wanting to dissolve the charm. the lovely lady now with joy assured him that she should change no more, but as she now was, so would she remain by night as well as by day. "sweet blushes stayned her rud-red cheek, her eyen were black as sloe, the ripening cherrye swelled her lippe, and all her neck was snow. sir gawain kist that ladye faire lying upon the sheete, and swore, as he was a true knight, the spice was never so swete." the dissolution of the charm which had held the lady also released her brother, the "grim baron," for he too had been implicated in it. he ceased to be a churlish oppressor, and became a gallant and generous knight as any at arthur's court. chapter vii caradoc briefbras; or, caradoc with the shrunken arm caradoc was the son of ysenne, the beautiful niece of arthur. he was ignorant who his father was, till it was discovered in the following manner: when the youth was of proper years to receive the honors of knighthood, king arthur held a grand court for the purpose of knighting him. on this occasion a strange knight presented himself, and challenged the knights of arthur's court to exchange blow for blow with him. his proposal was this--to lay his neck on a block for any knight to strike, on condition that, if he survived the blow, the knight should submit in turn to the same experiment. sir kay, who was usually ready to accept all challenges, pronounced this wholly unreasonable, and declared that he would not accept it for all the wealth in the world. and when the knight offered his sword, with which the operation was to be performed, no person ventured to accept it, till caradoc, growing angry at the disgrace which was thus incurred by the round table, threw aside his mantle and took it. "do you do this as one of the best knights?" said the stranger. "no," he replied, "but as one of the most foolish." the stranger lays his head upon the block, receives a blow which sends it rolling from his shoulders, walks after it, picks it up, replaces it with great success, and says he will return when the court shall be assembled next year, and claim his turn. when the anniversary arrived, both parties were punctual to their engagement. great entreaties were used by the king and queen, and the whole court, in behalf of caradoc, but the stranger was inflexible. the young knight laid his head upon the block, and more than once desired him to make an end of the business, and not keep him longer in so disagreeable a state of expectation. at last the stranger strikes him gently with the side of the sword, bids him rise, and reveals to him the fact that he is his father, the enchanter eliaures, and that he gladly owns him for a son, having proved his courage and fidelity to his word. but the favor of enchanters is short-lived and uncertain. eliaures fell under the influence of a wicked woman, who, to satisfy her pique against caradoc, persuaded the enchanter to fasten on his arm a serpent, which remained there sucking at his flesh and blood, no human skill sufficing either to remove the reptile or alleviate the torments which caradoc endured. caradoc was betrothed to guimier, sister to his bosom friend, cador, and daughter to the king of cornwall. as soon as they were informed of his deplorable condition, they set out for nantes, where caradoc's castle was, that guimier might attend upon him. when caradoc heard of their coming, his first emotion was that of joy and love. but soon he began to fear that the sight of his emaciated form, and of his sufferings, would disgust guimier; and this apprehension became so strong, that he departed secretly from nantes, and hid himself in a hermitage. he was sought far and near by the knights of arthur's court, and cador made a vow never to desist from the quest till he should have found him. after long wandering, cador discovered his friend in the hermitage, reduced almost to a skeleton, and apparently near his death. all other means of relief having already been tried in vain, cador at last prevailed on the enchanter eliaures to disclose the only method which could avail for his rescue. a maiden must be found, his equal in birth and beauty, and loving him better than herself, so that she would expose herself to the same torment to deliver him. two vessels were then to be provided, the one filled with sour wine, and the other with milk. caradoc must enter the first, so that the wine should reach his neck, and the maiden must get into the other, and, exposing her bosom upon the edge of the vessel, invite the serpent to forsake the withered flesh of his victim for this fresh and inviting food. the vessels were to be placed three feet apart, and as the serpent crossed from one to the other. a knight was to cut him in two. if he failed in his blow, caradoc would indeed be delivered, but it would be only to see his fair champion suffering the same cruel and hopeless torment. the sequel may be easily foreseen. guimier willingly exposed herself to the perilous adventure, and cador, with a lucky blow, killed the serpent. the arm in which caradoc had suffered so long recovered its strength, but not its shape, in consequence of which he was called caradoc briefbras, caradoc of the shrunken arm. caradoc and guimier are the hero and heroine of the ballad of the "boy and the mantle," which follows: "the boy and the mantle "in carlisle dwelt king arthur, a prince of passing might, and there maintained his table round, beset with many a knight. "and there he kept his christmas, with mirth and princely cheer, when lo! a strange and cunning boy before him did appear. "a kirtle and a mantle this boy had him upon, with brooches, rings, and ouches, full daintily bedone. "he had a sash of silk about his middle meet; and thus with seemly curtesie he did king arthur greet: "'god speed thee, brave king arthur. thus feasting in thy bower, and guenever, thy goodly queen, that fair and peerless flower. "'ye gallant lords and lordlings, i wish you all take heed, lest what ye deem a blooming rose should prove a cankered weed.' "then straightway from his bosom a little wand he drew; and with it eke a mantle, of wondrous shape and hue. "'now have thou here, king arthur, have this here of me, and give unto thy comely queen, all shapen as you see. "'no wife it shall become, that once hath been to blame.' then every knight in arthur's court sly glanced at his dame. "and first came lady guenever, the mantle she must try. this dame she was new-fangled, [ ] and of a roving eye. "when she had taken the mantle, and all with it was clad, from top to toe it shivered down, as though with shears beshred. "one while it was too long, another while too short, and wrinkled on her shoulders, in most unseemly sort. "now green, now red it seemed, then all of sable hue; 'beshrew me,' quoth king arthur, 'i think thou be'st not true!' "down she threw the mantle, no longer would she stay; but, storming like a fury, to her chamber flung away. "she cursed the rascal weaver, that had the mantle wrought; and doubly cursed the froward imp who thither had it brought. i had rather live in deserts, beneath the greenwood tree, than here, base king, among thy grooms the sport of them and thee.' "sir kay called forth his lady, and bade her to come near: 'yet dame, if thou be guilty, i pray thee now forbear.' "this lady, pertly giggling, with forward step came on, and boldly to the little boy with fearless face is gone. "when she had taken the mantle, with purpose for to wear, it shrunk up to her shoulder, and left her back all bare. "then every merry knight, that was in arthur's court, gibed and laughed and flouted, to see that pleasant sport. "down she threw the mantle, no longer bold or gay, but, with a face all pale and wan to her chamber slunk away. "then forth came an old knight a pattering o'er his creed, and proffered to the little boy five nobles to his meed: "'and all the time of christmas plum-porridge shall be thine, if thou wilt let my lady fair within the mantle shine.' "a saint his lady seemed, with step demure and slow, and gravely to the mantle with mincing face doth go. "when she the same had taken that was so fine and thin, it shrivelled all about her, and showed her dainty skin. "ah! little did her mincing, or his long prayers bestead; she had no more hung on her than a tassel and a thread. "down she threw the mantle, with terror and dismay, and with a face of scarlet to her chamber hied away. "sir cradock called his lady, and bade her to come near: 'come win this mantle, lady, and do me credit here: "'come win this mantle, lady, for now it shall be thine, if thou hast never done amiss, since first i made thee mine.' "the lady, gently blushing, with modest grace came on; and now to try the wondrous charm courageously is gone. "when she had ta'en the mantle, and put it on her back, about the hem it seemed to wrinkle and to crack. "'lie still,' she cried, 'o mantle! and shame me not for naught; i'll freely own whate'er amiss or blameful i have wrought. "'once i kissed sir cradock beneath the greenwood tree; once i kissed sir cradock's mouth, before he married me.' "when she had thus her shriven, and her worst fault had told, the mantle soon became her, right comely as it should. "most rich and fair of color, like gold it glittering shone, and much the knights in arthur's court admired her every one." [footnote : new-fangled--fond of novelty.] the ballad goes on to tell of two more trials of a similar kind, made by means of a boar's head and a drinking horn, in both of which the result was equally favorable with the first to sir cradock and his lady. it then concludes as follows: "thus boar's head, horn, and mantle were this fair couple's meed; and all such constant lovers, god send them well to speed" --percy's reliques. chapter viii launcelot of the lake king ban, of brittany, the faithful ally of arthur was attacked by his enemy claudas, and after a long war saw himself reduced to the possession of a single fortress, where he was besieged by his enemy. in this extremity he determined to solicit the assistance of arthur, and escaped in a dark night, with his wife helen and his infant son launcelot, leaving his castle in the hands of his seneschal, who immediately surrendered the place to claudas. the flames of his burning citadel reached the eyes of the unfortunate monarch during his flight and he expired with grief. the wretched helen, leaving her child on the brink of a lake, flew to receive the last sighs of her husband, and on returning perceived the little launcelot in the arms of a nymph, who, on the approach of the queen, threw herself into the lake with the child. this nymph was viviane, mistress of the enchanter merlin, better known by the name of the lady of the lake. launcelot received his appellation from having been educated at the court of this enchantress, whose palace was situated in the midst, not of a real, but, like the appearance which deceives the african traveller, of an imaginary lake, whose deluding resemblance served as a barrier to her residence. here she dwelt not alone, but in the midst of a numerous retinue, and a splendid court of knights and damsels. the queen, after her double loss, retired to a convent, where she was joined by the widow of bohort, for this good king had died of grief on hearing of the death of his brother ban. his two sons, lionel and bohort, were rescued by a faithful knight, and arrived in the shape of greyhounds at the palace of the lake, where, having resumed their natural form, they were educated along with their cousin launcelot. the fairy, when her pupil had attained the age of eighteen, conveyed him to the court of arthur for the purpose of demanding his admission to the honor of knighthood; and at the first appearance of the youthful candidate the graces of his person, which were not inferior to his courage and skill in arms, made an instantaneous and indelible impression on the heart of guenever, while her charms inspired him with an equally ardent and constant passion. the mutual attachment of these lovers exerted, from that time forth, an influence over the whole history of arthur. for the sake of guenever, launcelot achieved the conquest of northumberland, defeated gallehaut, king of the marches, who afterwards became his most faithful friend and ally, exposed himself in numberless encounters, and brought hosts of prisoners to the feet of his sovereign. sir launcelot after king arthur was come from rome into england all the knights of the table round resorted unto him and made him many justs and tournaments. and in especial sir launcelot of the lake in all tournaments and justs and deeds of arms, both for life and death, passed all other knights, and was never overcome, except it were by treason or enchantment; and he increased marvellously in worship, wherefore queen guenever had him in great favor, above all other knights. and for certain he loved the queen again above all other ladies; and for her he did many deeds of arms, and saved her from peril, through his noble chivalry. thus sir launcelot rested him long with play and game, and then he thought to prove himself in strange adventures; so he bade his nephew, sir lionel, to make him ready,-- "for we two will seek adventures." so they mounted on their horses, armed at all sights, and rode into a forest, and so into a deep plain. and the weather was hot about noon, and sir launcelot had great desire to sleep. then sir lionel espied a great apple-tree that stood by a hedge, and he said: "brother, yonder is a fair shadow--there may we rest us and our horses." "it is well said," replied sir launcelot. so they there alighted, and sir launcelot laid him down, and his helm under his head, and soon was asleep passing fast. and sir lionel waked while he slept. and presently there came three knights riding as fast as ever they might ride, and there followed them but one knight. and sir lionel thought he never saw so great a knight before. so within a while this great knight overtook one of those knights, and smote him so that he fell to the earth. then he rode to the second knight and smote him, and so he did to the third knight. then he alighted down and bound all the three knights fast with their own bridles. when sir lionel saw him do thus, he thought to assay him, and made him ready silently, not to awake sir launcelot, and rode after the strong knight, and bade him turn. and the other smote sir lionel so hard that horse and man fell to the earth; and then he alighted down and bound sir lionel, and threw him across his own horse; and so he served them all four, and rode with them away to his own castle. and when he came there he put them in a deep prison, in which were many more knights in great distress. now while sir launcelot lay under the apple-tree sleeping, there came by him four queens of great estate. and that the heat should not grieve them, there rode four knights about them, and bare a cloth of green silk on four spears, betwixt them and the sun. and the queens rode on four white mules. thus as they rode they heard by them a great horse grimly neigh. then they were aware of a sleeping knight, that lay all armed under an apple-tree; and as the queens looked on his face, they knew it was sir launcelot. then they began to strive for that knight, and each one said she would have him for her love. "we will not strive," said morgane le fay, that was king arthur's sister, "for i will put an enchantment upon him, that he shall not wake for six hours, and we will take him away to my castle; and then when he is surely within my hold, i will take the enchantment from him, and then let him choose which of us he will have for his love." so the enchantment was cast upon sir launcelot. and then they laid him upon his shield, and bare him so on horseback between two knights, and brought him unto the castle and laid him in a chamber, and at night they sent him his supper. and on the morning came early those four queens, richly dight, and bade him good morning, and he them again. "sir knight," they said, "thou must understand thou art our prisoner; and we know thee well, that thou art sir launcelot of the lake, king ban's son, and that thou art the noblest knight living. and we know well that there can no lady have thy love but one, and that is queen guenever; and now thou shalt lose her for ever, and she thee; and therefore it behooveth thee now to choose one of us. i am the queen morgane le fay, and here is the queen of north wales, and the queen of eastland, and the queen of the isles. now choose one of us which thou wilt have, for if thou choose not, in this prison thou shalt die." "this is a hard case," said sir launcelot, "that either i must die, or else choose one of you; yet had i liever to die in this prison with worship, than to have one of you for my paramour, for ye be false enchantresses." "well," said the queens, "is this your answer, that ye will refuse us." "yea, on my life it is," said sir launcelot. then they departed, making great sorrow. then at noon came a damsel unto him with his dinner, and asked him, "what cheer?" "truly, fair damsel," said sir launcelot, "never so ill." "sir," said she, "if you will be ruled by me, i will help you out of this distress. if ye will promise me to help my father on tuesday next, who hath made a tournament betwixt him and the king of north wales; for last tuesday my father lost the field." "fair maiden," said sir launcelot, "tell me what is your father's name, and then will i give you an answer." "sir knight," she said, "my father is king bagdemagus." "i know him well," said sir launcelot, "for a noble king and a good knight; and, by the faith of my body, i will be ready to do your father and you service at that day." so she departed, and came on the next morning early and found him ready, and brought him out of twelve locks, and brought him to his own horse, and lightly he saddled him, and so rode forth. and on the tuesday next he came to a little wood where the tournament should be. and there were scaffolds and holds, that lords and ladies might look on, and give the prize. then came into the field the king of north wales, with eightscore helms, and king badgemagus came with fourscore helms. and then they couched their spears, and came together with a great dash, and there were overthrown at the first encounter twelve of king bagdemagus's party and six of the king of north wales's party, and king bagdemagus's party had the worse. with that came sir launcelot of the lake, and thrust in with his spear in the thickest of the press; and he smote down five knights ere he held his hand; and he smote down the king of north wales, and he brake his thigh in that fall. and then the knights of the king of north wales would just no more; and so the gree was given to king bagdemagus. and sir launcelot rode forth with king bagdemagus unto his castle; and there he had passing good cheer, both with the king and with his daughter. and on the morn he took his leave, and told the king he would go and seek his brother, sir lionel, that went from him when he slept. so he departed, and by adventure he came to the same forest where he was taken sleeping. and in the highway he met a damsel riding on a white palfrey, and they saluted each other. "fair damsel," said sir launcelot, "know ye in this country any adventures?" "sir knight," said the damsel, "here are adventures near at hand, if thou durst pursue them." "why should i not prove adventures?" said sir launcelot, "since for that cause came i hither." "sir," said she, "hereby dwelleth a knight that will not be overmatched for any man i know, except thou overmatch him. his name is sir turquine, and, as i understand, he is a deadly enemy of king arthur, and he has in his prison good knights of arthur's court, threescore and more, that he hath won with his own hands." "damsel," said launcelot, "i pray you bring me unto this knight." so she told him, "hereby, within this mile, is his castle, and by it on the left hand is a ford for horses to drink of, and over that ford there groweth a fair tree, and on that tree hang many shields that good knights wielded aforetime, that are now prisoners; and on the tree hangeth a basin of copper and latten, and if thou strike upon that basin thou shalt hear tidings." and sir launcelot departed, and rode as the damsel had shown him, and shortly he came to the ford, and the tree where hung the shields and the basin. and among the shields he saw sir lionel's and sir hector's shields, besides many others of knights that he knew. then sir launcelot struck on the basin with the butt of his spear; and long he did so, but he saw no man. and at length he was ware of a great knight that drove a horse before him, and across the horse there lay an armed knight bounden. and as they came near, sir launcelot thought he should know the captive knight. then sir launcelot saw that it was sir gaheris, sir gawain's brother, a knight of the table round. "now, fair knight," said sir launcelot, "put that wounded knight off the horse, and let him rest awhile, and let us two prove our strength. for, as it is told me, thou hast done great despite and shame unto knights of the round table, therefore now defend thee." "if thou be of the table round," said sir turquine, "i defy thee and all thy fellowship." "that is overmuch said," said sir launcelot. then they put their spears in the rests, and came together with their horses as fast as they might run. and each smote the other in the middle of their shields, so that their horses fell under them, and the knights were both staggered; and as soon as they could clear their horses they drew out their swords and came together eagerly, and each gave the other many strong strokes, for neither shield nor harness might withstand their strokes. so within a while both had grimly wounds, and bled grievously. then at the last they were breathless both, and stood leaning upon their swords. "now, fellow," said sir turquine, "thou art the stoutest man that ever i met with, and best breathed; and so be it thou be not the knight that i hate above all other knights, the knight that slew my brother, sir carados, i will gladly accord with thee; and for thy love i will deliver all the prisoners that i have." "what knight is he that thou hatest so above others?" "truly," said sir turquine, "his name is sir launcelot of the lake." "i am sir launcelot of the lake, king ban's son of benwick, and very knight of the table round; and now i defy thee do thy best." "ah!" said sir turquine, "launcelot, thou art to me the most welcome that ever was knight; for we shall never part till the one of us be dead." and then they hurtled together like two wild bulls, rashing and lashing with their swords and shields, so that sometimes they fell, as it were, headlong. thus they fought two hours and more, till the ground where they fought was all bepurpled with blood. then at the last sir turquine waxed sore faint, and gave somewhat aback, and bare his shield full low for weariness. that spied sir launcelot, and leapt then upon him fiercely as a lion, and took him by the beaver of his helmet, and drew him down on his knees. and he raised off his helm, and smote his neck in sunder. and sir gaheris, when he saw sir turquine slain, said, "fair lord, i pray you tell me your name, for this day i say ye are the best knight in the world, for ye have slain this day in my sight the mightiest man and the best knight except you that ever i saw." "sir, my name is sir launcelot du lac, that ought to help you of right for king arthur's sake, and in especial for sir gawain's sake, your own dear brother. now i pray you, that ye go into yonder castle, and set free all the prisoners ye find there, for i am sure ye shall find there many knights of the table round, and especially my brother sir lionel. i pray you greet them all from me, and tell them i bid them take there such stuff as they find; and tell my brother to go unto the court and abide me there, for by the feast of pentecost i think to be there; but at this time i may not stop, for i have adventures on hand." so he departed, and sir gaheris rode into the castle, and took the keys from the porter, and hastily opened the prison door and let out all the prisoners. there was sir kay, sir brandeles, and sir galynde, sir bryan, and sir alyduke, sir hector de marys, and sir lionel, and many more. and when they saw sir gaheris they all thanked him, for they thought, because he was wounded, that he had slain sir turquine. "not so," said sir gaheris; "it was sir launcelot that slew him, right worshipfully; i saw it with mine eyes." sir launcelot rode till at nightfall he came to a fair castle, and therein he found an old gentlewoman, who lodged him with good- will, and there he had good cheer for him and his horse. and when time was, his host brought him to a fair chamber over the gate to his bed. then sir launcelot unarmed him, and set his harness by him, and went to bed, and anon he fell asleep. and soon after, there came one on horseback and knocked at the gate in great haste; and when sir launcelot heard this, he arose and looked out of the window, and saw by the moonlight three knights riding after that one man, and all three lashed on him with their swords, and that one knight turned on them knightly again and defended himself. "truly," said sir launcelot, "yonder one knight will i help, for it is shame to see three knights on one." then he took his harness and went out at the window by a sheet down to the four knights; and he said aloud, "turn you knights unto me, and leave your fighting with that knight." then the knights left sir kay, for it was he they were upon, and turned unto sir launcelot, and struck many great strokes at sir launcelot, and assailed him on every side. then sir kay addressed him to help sir launcelot, but he said, "nay, sir, i will none of your help; let me alone with them." so sir kay suffered him to do his will, and stood one side. and within six strokes sir launcelot had stricken them down. then they all cried, "sir knight, we yield us unto you." "as to that," said sir launcelot, "i will not take your yielding unto me. if so be ye will yield you unto sir kay the seneschal, i will save your lives, but else not." "fair knight," then they said, "we will do as thou commandest us." "then shall ye," said sir launcelot, "on whitsunday next, go unto the court of king arthur, and there shall ye yield you unto queen guenever, and say that sir kay sent you thither to be her prisoners." "sir," they said, "it shall be done, by the faith of our bodies;" and then they swore, every knight upon his sword. and so sir launcelot suffered them to depart. on the morn sir launcelot rose early and left sir kay sleeping; and sir launcelot took sir kay's armor, and his shield, and armed him, and went to the stable and took his horse, and so he departed. then soon after arose sir kay, and missed sir launcelot. and then he espied that he had taken his armor and his horse. "now, by my faith, i know well," said sir kay, "that he will grieve some of king arthur's knights, for they will deem that it is i, and will be bold to meet him. but by cause of his armor i am sure i shall ride in peace." then sir kay thanked his host and departed. sir launcelot rode in a deep forest, and there he saw four knights, under an oak, and they were of arthur's court. there was sir sagramour le desirus, and hector de marys, and sir gawain, and sir uwaine. as they spied sir launcelot they judged by his arms it had been sir kay. "now, by my faith," said sir sagramour, "i will prove sir kay's might;" and got his spear in his hand, and came towards sir launcelot. therewith sir launcelot couched his spear against him, and smote sir sagramour so sore that horse and man fell both to the earth. then said sir hector, "now shall ye see what i may do with him." but he fared worse than sir sagramour, for sir launcelot's spear went through his shoulder and bare him from his horse to the ground. "by my faith," said sir uwaine, "yonder is a strong knight, and i fear he hath slain sir kay, and taken his armor." and therewith sir uwaine took his spear in hand, and rode toward sir launcelot; and sir launcelot met him on the plain and gave him such a buffet that he was staggered, and wist not where he was. "now see i well," said sir gawain, "that i must encounter with that knight." then he adjusted his shield, and took a good spear in his hand, and sir launcelot knew him well. then they let run their horses with all their mights, and each knight smote the other in the middle of his shield. but sir gawain's spear broke, and sir launcelot charged so sore upon him that his horse fell over backward. then sir launcelot passed by smiling with himself, and he said, "good luck be with him that made this spear, for never came a better into my hand." then the four knights went each to the other and comforted one another. "what say ye to this adventure," said sir gawain, "that one spear hath felled us all four?" "i dare lay my head it is sir launcelot," said sir hector; "i know it by his riding." and sir launcelot rode through many strange countries, till by fortune he came to a fair castle; and as he passed beyond the castle he thought he heard two bells ring. and then he perceived how a falcon came flying over his head, toward a high elm; and she had long lunys [footnote: lunys, the string with which the falcon is held.] about her feet, and she flew unto the elm to take her perch, and the lunys got entangled in the bough; and when she would have taken her flight, she hung by the legs fast, and sir launcelot saw how she hung, and beheld the fair falcon entangled, and he was sorry for her. then came a lady out of the castle and cried aloud, "o launcelot, launcelot, as thou art the flower of all knights, help me to get my hawk; for if my hawk be lost, my lord will slay me, he is so hasty." "what is your lord's name?" said sir launcelot. "his name is sir phelot, a knight that belongeth to the king of north wales." "well, fair lady, since ye know my name, and require me of knighthood to help you, i will do what i may to get your hawk; and yet in truth i am an ill climber, and the tree is passing high, and few boughs to help me." and therewith sir launcelot alighted and tied his horse to the tree, and prayed the lady to unarm him. and when he was unarmed, he put off his jerkin, and with might and force he clomb up to the falcon, and tied the lunys to a rotten bough, and threw the hawk down with it; and the lady got the hawk in her hand. then suddenly there came out of the castle her husband, all armed, and with his naked sword in his hand, and said, "o knight launcelot, now have i got thee as i would," and stood at the boll of the tree to slay him. "ah, lady!" said sir launcelot, "why have ye betrayed me?" "she hath done," said sir phelot, "but as i commanded her; and therefore there is none other way but thine hour is come, and thou must die." "that were shame unto thee," said sir launcelot; "thou an armed knight to slay a naked man by treason." "thou gettest none other grace," said sir phelot, "and therefore help thyself if thou canst." "alas!" said sir launcelot, "that ever a knight should die weaponless!" and therewith he turned his eyes upward and downward; and over his head he saw a big bough leafless, and he brake it off from the trunk. and then he came lower, and watched how his own horse stood; and suddenly he leapt on the further side of his horse from the knight. then sir phelot lashed at him eagerly, meaning to have slain him. but sir launcelot put away the stroke, with the big bough, and smote sir phelot therewith on the side of the head, so that he fell down in a swoon to the ground. then sir launcelot took his sword out of his hand and struck his head from the body. then said the lady, "alas! why hast thou slain my husband?" "i am not the cause," said sir launcelot, "for with falsehood ye would have slain me, and now it is fallen on yourselves." thereupon sir launcelot got all his armor, and put it upon him hastily, for fear of more resort, for the knight's castle was so nigh. and as soon as he might, he took his horse and departed, and thanked god he had escaped that adventure. and two days before the feast of pentecost, sir launcelot came home; and the king and all the court were passing glad of his coming. and when sir gawain, sir uwaine, sir sagramour, and sir hector de marys saw sir launcelot in sir kay's armor then they wist well it was he that smote them down, all with one spear. then there was laughing and merriment among them; and from time to time came all the knights that sir turquine had prisoners, and they all honored and worshipped sir launcelot. then sir gaheris said, "i saw all the battle from the beginning to the end," and he told king arthur all how it was. then sir kay told the king how sir launcelot had rescued him, and how he "made the knights yield to me, and not to him." and there they were, all three, and confirmed it all "and, by my faith," said sir kay, "because sir launcelot took my harness and left me his, i rode in peace, and no man would have to do with me." and so at that time sir launcelot had the greatest name of any knight of the world, and most was he honored of high and low. chapter ix the adventure of the cart it befell in the month of may, queen guenever called to her knights of the table round, and gave them warning that early upon the morrow she would ride a-maying into the woods and fields beside westminster; "and i warn you that there be none of you but he be well horsed, and that ye all be clothed in green, either silk or cloth; and i shall bring with me ten ladies, and every knight shall have a lady behind him, and every knight shall have a squire and two yeoman, and all well horsed." "for thus it chanced one morn when all the court, green-suited, but with plumes that mock'd the may, had been, their wont, a-maying" --guinevere. so they made them ready; and these were the names of the knights: sir kay the seneschal, sir agrivaine, sir brandiles, sir sagramour le desirus, sir dodynas le sauvage, sir ozanna, sir ladynas, sir persant of inde, sir ironside, and sir pelleas; and these ten knights made them ready, in the freshest manner, to ride with the queen. so upon the morn they took their horses with the queen, and rode a-maying in woods and meadows, as it pleased them, in great joy and delight. now there was a knight named maleagans, son to king brademagus, who loved queen guenever passing well, and so had he done long and many years. now this knight, sir maleagans, learned the queen's purpose, and that she had no men of arms with her but the ten noble knights all arrayed in green for maying; so he prepared him twenty men of arms, and a hundred archers, to take captive the queen and her knights. "in the merry month of may, in a morn at break of day, with a troop of damsels playing, the queen, forsooth, went forth a-maying." --old song. so when the queen had mayed, and all were bedecked with herbs, mosses, and flowers in the best manner and freshest, right then came out of a wood sir maleagans with eightscore men well harnessed, and bade the queen and her knights yield them prisoners. "traitor knight," said queen guenever, "what wilt thou do? wilt thou shame thyself? bethink thee how thou art a king's son, and a knight of the table round, and how thou art about to dishonor all knighthood and thyself?" "be it as it may," said sir maleagans, "know you well, madam, i have loved you many a year and never till now could i get you to such advantage as i do now; and therefore i will take you as i find you." then the ten knights of the round table drew their swords, and the other party run at them with their spears, and the ten knights manfully abode them, and smote away their spears. then they lashed together with swords till several were smitten to the earth. so when the queen saw her knights thus dolefully oppressed, and needs must be slain at the last, then for pity and sorrow she cried, "sir maleagans, slay not my noble knights and i will go with you, upon this covenant, that they be led with me wheresoever thou leadest me." "madame," said maleagans, "for your sake they shall be led with you into my own castle, if that ye will be ruled, and ride with me." then sir maleagans charged them all that none should depart from the queen, for he dreaded lest sir launcelot should have knowledge of what had been done. then the queen privily called unto her a page of her chamber that was swiftly horsed, to whom she said, "go thou when thou seest thy time, and bear this ring unto sir launcelot, and pray him as he loveth me, that he will see me and rescue me. and spare not thy horse," said the queen, "neither for water nor for land." so the child espied his time, and lightly he took his horse with the spurs and departed as fast as he might. and when sir maleagans saw him so flee, he understood that it was by the queen's commandment for to warn sir launcelot. then they that were best horsed chased him, and shot at him, but the child went from them all. then sir maleagans said to the queen, "madam, ye are about to betray me, but i shall arrange for sir launcelot that he shall not come lightly at you." then he rode with her and them all to his castle, in all the haste that they might. and by the way sir maleagans laid in ambush the best archers that he had to wait for sir launcelot. and the child came to westminster and found sir launcelot and told his message and delivered him the queen's ring. "alas!" said sir launcelot, "now am i shamed for ever, unless i may rescue that noble lady." then eagerly he asked his armor and put it on him, and mounted his horse and rode as fast as he might; and men say he took the water at westminster bridge, and made his horse swim over thames unto lambeth. then within a while he came to a wood where was a narrow way; and there the archers were laid in ambush. and they shot at him and smote his horse so that he fell. then sir launcelot left his horse and went on foot, but there lay so many ditches and hedges betwixt the archers and him that he might not meddle with them. "alas! for shame," said sir launcelot, "that ever one knight should betray another! but it is an old saw, a good man is never in danger, but when he is in danger of a coward." then sir launcelot went awhile and he was exceedingly cumbered by his armor, his shield, and his spear, and all that belonged to him. then by chance there came by him a cart that came thither to fetch wood. now at this time carts were little used except for carrying offal and for conveying criminals to execution. but sir launcelot took no thought of anything but the necessity of haste for the purpose of rescuing the queen; so he demanded of the carter that he should take him in and convey him as speedily as possible for a liberal reward. the carter consented, and sir launcelot placed himself in the cart and only lamented that with much jolting he made but little progress. then it happened sir gawain passed by and seeing an armed knight travelling in that unusual way he drew near to see who it might be. then sir launcelot told him how the queen had been carried off, and how, in hastening to her rescue, his horse had been disabled and he had been compelled to avail himself of the cart rather than give up his enterprise. then sir gawain said, "surely it is unworthy of a knight to travel in such sort;" but sir launcelot heeded him not. at nightfall they arrived at a castle and the lady thereof came out at the head of her damsels to welcome sir gawain. but to admit his companion, whom she supposed to be a criminal, or at least a prisoner, it pleased her not; however, to oblige sir gawain, she consented. at supper sir launcelot came near being consigned to the kitchen and was only admitted to the lady's table at the earnest solicitation of sir gawain. neither would the damsels prepare a bed for him. he seized the first he found unoccupied and was left undisturbed. next morning he saw from the turrets of the castle a train accompanying a lady, whom he imagined to be the queen. sir gawain thought it might be so, and became equally eager to depart. the lady of the castle supplied sir launcelot with a horse and they traversed the plain at full speed. they learned from some travellers whom they met, that there were two roads which led to the castle of sir maleagans. here therefore the friends separated. sir launcelot found his way beset with obstacles, which he encountered successfully, but not without much loss of time. as evening approached he was met by a young and sportive damsel, who gayly proposed to him a supper at her castle. the knight, who was hungry and weary, accepted the offer, though with no very good grace. he followed the lady to her castle and ate voraciously of her supper, but was quite impenetrable to all her amorous advances. suddenly the scene changed and he was assailed by six furious ruffians, whom he dealt with so vigorously that most of them were speedily disabled, when again there was a change and he found himself alone with his fair hostess, who informed him that she was none other than his guardian fairy, who had but subjected him to tests of his courage and fidelity. the next day the fairy brought him on his road, and before parting gave him a ring, which she told him would by its changes of color disclose to him all enchantments, and enable him to subdue them. sir launcelot pursued his journey, without being much incommoded except by the taunts of travellers, who all seemed to have learned, by some means, his disgraceful drive in the cart. one, more insolent than the rest, had the audacity to interrupt him during dinner, and even to risk a battle in support of his pleasantry. launcelot, after an easy victory, only doomed him to be carted in his turn. at night he was received at another castle, with great apparent hospitality, but found himself in the morning in a dungeon, and loaded with chains. consulting his ring, and finding that this was an enchantment, he burst his chains, seized his armor in spite of the visionary monsters who attempted to defend it, broke open the gates of the tower, and continued his journey. at length his progress was checked by a wide and rapid torrent, which could only be passed on a narrow bridge, on which a false step would prove his destruction. launcelot, leading his horse by the bridle, and making him swim by his side, passed over the bridge, and was attacked as soon as he reached the bank by a lion and a leopard, both of which he slew, and then, exhausted and bleeding, seated himself on the grass, and endeavored to bind up his wounds, when he was accosted by brademagus, the father of maleagans, whose castle was then in sight, and at no great distance. this king, no less courteous than his son was haughty and insolent, after complimenting sir launcelot on the valor and skill he had displayed in the perils of the bridge and the wild beasts, offered him his assistance, and informed him that the queen was safe in his castle, but could only be rescued by encountering maleagans. launcelot demanded the battle for the next day, and accordingly it took place, at the foot of the tower, and under the eyes of the fair captive. launcelot was enfeebled by his wounds, and fought not with his usual spirit, and the contest for a time was doubtful; till guenever exclaimed, "ah, launcelot! my knight, truly have i been told that thou art no longer worthy of me!" these words instantly revived the drooping knight; he resumed at once his usual superiority, and soon laid at his feet his haughty adversary. he was on the point of sacrificing him to his resentment, when guenever, moved by the entreaties of brademagus, ordered him to withhold the blow, and he obeyed. the castle and its prisoners were now at his disposal. launcelot hastened to the apartment of the queen, threw himself at her feet, and was about to kiss her hand, when she exclaimed, "ah, launcelot! why do i see thee again, yet feel thee to be no longer worthy of me, after having been disgracefully drawn about the country in a--" she had not time to finish the phrase, for her lover suddenly started from her, and, bitterly lamenting that he had incurred the displeasure of his sovereign lady, rushed out of the castle, threw his sword and his shield to the right and left, ran furiously into the woods, and disappeared. it seems that the story of the abominable cart, which haunted launcelot at every step, had reached the ears of sir kay, who had told it to the queen, as a proof that her knight must have been dishonored. but guenever had full leisure to repent the haste with which she had given credit to the tale. three days elapsed, during which launcelot wandered without knowing where he went, till at last he began to reflect that his mistress had doubtless been deceived by misrepresentation, and that it was his duty to set her right. he therefore returned, compelled maleagans to release his prisoners, and, taking the road by which they expected the arrival of sir gawain, had the satisfaction of meeting him the next day; after which the whole company proceeded gayly towards camelot. chapter x the lady of shalott king arthur proclaimed a solemn tournament to be held at winchester. the king, not less impatient than his knights for this festival, set off some days before to superintend the preparations, leaving the queen with her court at camelot. sir launcelot, under pretence of indisposition, remained behind also. his intention was to attend the tournament--in disguise; and having communicated his project to guenever, he mounted his horse, set off without any attendant, and, counterfeiting the feebleness of age, took the most unfrequented road to winchester, and passed unnoticed as an old knight who was going to be a spectator of the sports. even arthur and gawain, who happened to behold him from the windows of a castle under which he passed, were the dupes of his disguise. but an accident betrayed him. his horse happened to stumble, and the hero, forgetting for a moment his assumed character, recovered the animal with a strength and agility so peculiar to himself, that they instantly recognized the inimitable launcelot. they suffered him, however, to proceed on his journey without interruption, convinced that his extraordinary feats of arms must discover him at the approaching festival. in the evening launcelot was magnificently entertained as a stranger knight at the neighboring castle of shalott. the lord of this castle had a daughter of exquisite beauty, and two sons lately received into the order of knighthood, one of whom was at that time ill in bed, and thereby prevented from attending the tournament, for which both brothers had long made preparation. launcelot offered to attend the other, if he were permitted to borrow the armor of the invalid, and the lord of shalott, without knowing the name of his guest, being satisfied from his appearance that his son could not have a better assistant in arms, most thankfully accepted the offer. in the meantime the young lady, who had been much struck by the first appearance of the stranger knight, continued to survey him with increased attention, and, before the conclusion of supper, became so deeply enamoured of him, that after frequent changes of color, and other symptoms which sir launcelot could not possibly mistake, she was obliged to retire to her chamber, and seek relief in tears. sir launcelot hastened to convey to her, by means of her brother, the information that his heart was already disposed of, but that it would be his pride and pleasure to act as her knight at the approaching tournament. the lady, obliged to be satisfied with that courtesy, presented him her scarf to be worn at the tournament. launcelot set off in the morning with the young knight, who, on their approaching winchester, carried him to the castle of a lady, sister to the lord of shalott, by whom they were hospitably entertained. the next day they put on their armor, which was perfectly plain and without any device, as was usual to youths during the first year of knighthood, their shields being only painted red, as some color was necessary to enable them to be recognized by their attendants. launcelot wore on his crest the scarf of the maid of shalott, and, thus equipped, proceeded to the tournament, where the knights were divided into two companies, the one commanded by sir galehaut, the other by king arthur. having surveyed the combat for a short time from without the lists, and observed that sir galehaut's party began to give way, they joined the press and attacked the royal knights, the young man choosing such adversaries as were suited to his strength, while his companion selected the principal champions of the round table, and successively overthrew gawain, bohort, and lionel. the astonishment of the spectators was extreme, for it was thought that no one but launcelot could possess such invincible force; yet the favor on his crest seemed to preclude the possibility of his being thus disguised, for launcelot had never been known to wear the badge of any but his sovereign lady. at length sir hector, launcelot's brother, engaged him, and, after a dreadful combat, wounded him dangerously in the head, but was himself completely stunned by a blow on the helmet, and felled to the ground; after which the conqueror rode off at full speed, attended by his companion. they returned to the castle of shalott, where launcelot was attended with the greatest care by the good earl, by his two sons, and, above all, by his fair daughter, whose medical skill probably much hastened the period of his recovery. his health was almost completely restored, when sir hector, sir bohort, and sir lionel, who, after the return of the court to camelot, had undertaken the quest of their relation, discovered him walking on the walls of the castle. their meeting was very joyful; they passed three days in the castle amidst constant festivities, and bantered each other on the events of the tournament. launcelot, though he began by vowing vengeance against the author of his wound, yet ended by declaring that he felt rewarded for the pain by the pride he took in witnessing his brother's extraordinary prowess. he then dismissed them with a message to the queen, promising to follow immediately, it being necessary that he should first take a formal leave of his kind hosts, as well as of the fair maid of shalott. the young lady, after vainly attempting to detain him by her tears and solicitations, saw him depart without leaving her any ground for hope. it was early summer when the tournament took place; but some months had passed since launcelot's departure, and winter was now near at hand. the health and strength of the lady of shalott had gradually sunk, and she felt that she could not live apart from the object of her affections. she left the castle, and descending to the river's brink placed herself in a boat, which she loosed from its moorings, and suffered to bear her down the current toward camelot. one morning, as arthur and sir lionel looked from the window of the tower, the walls of which were washed by a river, they descried a boat richly ornamented, and covered with an awning of cloth of gold, which appeared to be floating down the stream without any human guidance. it struck the shore while they watched it, and they hastened down to examine it. beneath the awning they discovered the dead body of a beautiful woman, in whose features sir lionel easily recognized the lovely maid of shalott. pursuing their search, they discovered a purse richly embroidered with gold and jewels, and within the purse a letter, which arthur opened, and found addressed to himself and all the knights of the round table, stating that launcelot of the lake, the most accomplished of knights and most beautiful of men, but at the same time the most cruel and inflexible, had by his rigor produced the death of the wretched maiden, whose love was no less invincible than his cruelty. the king immediately gave orders for the interment of the lady with all the honors suited to her rank, at the same time explaining to the knights the history of her affection for launcelot, which moved the compassion and regret of all. tennyson has chosen the story of the "lady of shalott" for the subject of a poem. the catastrophe is told thus: "under tower and balcony, by garden-wall and gallery, a gleaming shape she floated by, a corse between the houses high, silent into camelot. out upon the wharfs they came, knight and burgher, lord and dame, and round the prow they read her name, 'the lady of shalott' "who is this? and what is here? and in the lighted palace near died the sound of royal cheer; and they crossed themselves for fear, all the knights at camelot. but launcelot mused a little space; he said, 'she has a lovely face; god in his mercy lend her grace, the lady of shalott.'" chapter xi queen guenever's peril it happened at this time that queen guenever was thrown into great peril of her life. a certain squire who was in her immediate service, having some cause of animosity to sir gawain, determined to destroy him by poison, at a public entertainment. for this purpose he concealed the poison in an apple of fine appearance, which he placed on the top of several others, and put the dish before the queen, hoping that, as sir gawain was the knight of greatest dignity, she would present the apple to him. but it happened that a scottish knight of high distinction, who arrived on that day, was seated next to the queen, and to him as a stranger she presented the apple, which he had no sooner eaten than he was seized with dreadful pain, and fell senseless. the whole court was, of course, thrown into confusion; the knights rose from table, darting looks of indignation at the wretched queen, whose tears and protestations were unable to remove their suspicions. in spite of all that could be done the knight died, and nothing remained but to order a magnificent funeral and monument for him, which was done. some time after sir mador, brother of the murdered knight, arrived at arthur's court in quest of him. while hunting in the forest he by chance came to the spot where the monument was erected, read the inscription, and returned to court determined on immediate and signal vengeance. he rode into the hall, loudly accused the queen of treason, and insisted on her being given up for punishment, unless she should find by a certain day a knight hardy enough to risk his life in support of her innocence. arthur, powerful as he was, did not dare to deny the appeal, but was compelled with a heavy heart to accept it, and mador sternly took his departure, leaving the royal couple plunged in terror and anxiety. during all this time launcelot was absent, and no one knew where he was. he fled in anger from his fair mistress, upon being reproached by her with his passion for the lady of shalott, which she had hastily inferred from his wearing her scarf at the tournament. he took up his abode with a hermit in the forest, and resolved to think no more of the cruel beauty, whose conduct he thought must flow from a wish to get rid of him. yet calm reflection had somewhat cooled his indignation, and he had begun to wish, though hardly able to hope, for a reconciliation when the news of sir mador's challenge fortunately reached his ears. the intelligence revived his spirits, and he began to prepare with the utmost cheerfulness for a contest which, if successful, would insure him at once the affection of his mistress and the gratitude of his sovereign. the sad fate of the lady of shalott had ere this completely acquitted launcelot in the queen's mind of all suspicion of his fidelity, and she lamented most grievously her foolish quarrel with him, which now, at her time of need, deprived her of her most efficient champion. as the day appointed by sir mador was fast approaching, it became necessary that she should procure a champion for her defence; and she successively adjured sir hector, sir lionel, sir bohort, and sir gawain to undertake the battle. she fell on her knees before them, called heaven to witness her innocence of the crime alleged against her, but was sternly answered by all that they could not fight to maintain the innocence of one whose act, and the fatal consequence of it, they had seen with their own eyes. she retired, therefore, dejected and disconsolate; but the sight of the fatal pile on which, if guilty, she was doomed to be burned, exciting her to fresh effort, she again repaired to sir bohort, threw herself at his feet, and piteously calling on him for mercy, fell into a swoon. the brave knight was not proof against this. he raised her up, and hastily promised that he would undertake her cause, if no other or better champion should present himself. he then summoned his friends, and told them his resolution; and as a mortal combat with sir mador was a most fearful enterprise, they agreed to accompany him in the morning to the hermitage in the forest, where he proposed to receive absolution from the hermit, and to make his peace with heaven before he entered the lists. as they approached the hermitage, they espied a knight riding in the forest, whom they at once recognized as sir launcelot. overjoyed at the meeting, they quickly, in answer to his questions, confirmed the news of the queen's imminent danger, and received his instructions to return to court, to comfort her as well as they could, but to say nothing of his intention of undertaking her defence, which he meant to do in tne character of an unknown adventurer. on their return to the castle they found that mass was finished, and had scarcely time to speak to the queen before they were summoned into the hall to dinner. a general gloom was spread over the countenances of all the guests. arthur himself was unable to conceal his dejection, and the wretched guenever, motionless and bathed in tears, sat in trembling expectation of sir mador's appearance. nor was it long ere he stalked into the hall, and with a voice of thunder, rendered more impressive by the general silence, demanded instant justice on the guilty party. arthur replied with dignity, that little of the day was yet spent, and that perhaps a champion might yet be found capable of satisfying his thirst for battle. sir bohort now rose from table, and shortly returning in complete armor, resumed his place, after receiving the embraces and thanks of the king, who now began to resume some degree of confidence. sir mador, growing impatient, again repeated his denunciations of vengeance, and insisted that the combat should no longer be postponed. in the height of the debate there came riding into the hall a knight mounted on a black steed, and clad in black armor, with his visor down, and lance in hand. "sir," said the king, "is it your will to alight and partake of our cheer?" "nay, sir," he replied; "i come to save a lady's life. the queen hath ill bestowed her favors, and honored many a knight, that in her hour of need she should have none to take her part. thou that darest accuse her of treachery, stand forth, for to-day shalt thou need all thy might." sir mador, though surprised, was not appalled by the stern challenge and formidable appearance of his antagonist, but prepared for the encounter. at the first shock both were unhorsed. they then drew their swords, and commenced a combat which lasted from noon till evening, when sir mador, whose strength began to fail, was felled to the ground by launcelot, and compelled to sue for mercy. the victor, whose arm was already raised to terminate the life of his opponent, instantly dropped his sword, courteously lifted up the fainting sir mador, frankly confessing that he had never before encountered so formidable an enemy. the other, with similar courtesy, solemnly renounced all further projects of vengeance for his brother's death; and the two knights, now become fast friends, embraced each other with the greatest cordiality. in the meantime arthur, having recognized sir launcelot, whose helmet was now unlaced, rushed down into the lists, followed by all his knights, to welcome and thank his deliverer. guenever swooned with joy, and the place of combat suddenly exhibited a scene of the most tumultuous delight. the general satisfaction was still further increased by the discovery of the real culprit. having accidentally incurred some suspicion, he confessed his crime, and was publicly punished in the presence of sir mador. the court now returned to the castle, which, with the title of "la joyeuse garde" bestowed upon it in memory of the happy event, was conferred on sir launcelot by arthur, as a memorial of his gratitude. chapter xii tristram and isoude meliadus was king of leonois, or lionesse, a country famous in the annals of romance, which adjoined the kingdom of cornwall, but has now disappeared from the map, having been, it is said, overwhelmed by the ocean. meliadus was married to isabella, sister of mark, king of cornwall. a fairy fell in love with him, and drew him away by enchantment while he was engaged in hunting. his queen set out in quest of him, but was taken ill on her journey, and died, leaving an infant son, whom, from the melancholy circumstances of his birth, she called tristram. gouvernail, the queen's squire, who had accompanied her, took charge of the child, and restored him to his father, who had at length burst the enchantments of the fairy, and returned home. meliadus after seven years married again, and the new queen, being jealous of the influence of tristram with his father, laid plots for his life, which were discovered by gouvernail, who in consequence fled with the boy to the court of the king of france, where tristram was kindly received, and grew up improving in every gallant and knightly accomplishment, adding to his skill in arms the arts of music and of chess. in particular, he devoted himself to the chase and to all woodland sports, so that he became distinguished above all other chevaliers of the court for his knowledge of all that relates to hunting. no wonder that belinda, the king's daughter, fell in love with him; but as he did not return her passion, she, in a sudden impulse of anger, excited her father against him, and he was banished the kingdom. the princess soon repented of her act, and in despair destroyed herself, having first written a most tender letter to tristram, sending him at the same time a beautiful and sagacious dog, of which she was very fond, desiring him to keep it as a memorial of her. meliadus was now dead, and as his queen, tristram's stepmother, held the throne, gouvernail was afraid to carry his pupil to his native country, and took him to cornwall, to his uncle mark, who gave him a kind reception. king mark resided at the castle of tintadel, already mentioned in the history of uther and igerne. in this court tristram became distinguished in all the exercises incumbent on a knight; nor was it long before he had an opportunity of practically employing his valor and skill. moraunt, a celebrated champion, brother to the queen of ireland, arrived at the court, to demand tribute of king mark. the knights of cornwall are in ill repute in romance for their cowardice, and they exhibited it on this occasion. king mark could find no champion who dared to encounter the irish knight, till his nephew tristram, who had not yet received the honors of knighthood, craved to be admitted to the order, offering at the same time to fight the battle of cornwall against the irish champion. king mark assented with reluctance; tristram received the accolade, which conferred knighthood upon him, and the place and time were assigned for the encounter. without attempting to give the details of this famous combat, the first and one of the most glorious of tristram's exploits, we shall only say that the young knight, though severely wounded, cleft the head of moraunt, leaving a portion of his sword in the wound. moraunt, half dead with his wound and the disgrace of his defeat, hastened to hide himself in his ship, sailed away with all speed for ireland, and died soon after arriving in his own country. the kingdom of cornwall was thus delivered from its tribute. tristram, weakened by loss of blood, fell senseless. his friends flew to his assistance. they dressed his wounds, which in general healed readily; but the lance of moraunt was poisoned, and one wound which it made yielded to no remedies, but grew worse day by day. the surgeons could do no more. tristram asked permission of his uncle to depart, and seek for aid in the kingdom of loegria (england). with his consent he embarked, and after tossing for many days on the sea, was driven by the winds to the coast of ireland. he landed, full of joy and gratitude that he had escaped the peril of the sea; took his rote,[footnote: a musical instrument.] and began to play. it was a summer evening, and the king of ireland and his daughter, the beautiful isoude, were at a window which overlooked the sea. the strange harper was sent for, and conveyed to the palace, where, finding that he was in ireland, whose champion he had lately slain, he concealed his name, and called himself tramtris. the queen undertook his cure, and by a medicated bath gradually restored him to health. his skill in music and in games occasioned his being frequently called to court, and he became the instructor of the princess isoude in minstrelsy and poetry, who profited so well under his care, that she soon had no equal in the kingdom, except her instructor. at this time a tournament was held, at which many knights of the round table, and others, were present. on the first day a saracen prince, named palamedes, obtained the advantage over all. they brought him to the court, and gave him a feast, at which tristram, just recovering from his wound, was present. the fair isoude appeared on this occasion in all her charms. palamedes could not behold them without emotion, and made no effort to conceal his love. tristram perceived it, and the pain he felt from jealousy taught him how dear the fair isoude had already become to him. next day the tournament was renewed. tristram, still feeble from his wound, rose during the night, took his arms, and concealed them in a forest near the place of the contest, and, after it had begun, mingled with the combatants. he overthrew all that encountered him, in particular palamedes, whom he brought to the ground with a stroke of his lance, and then fought him hand to hand, bearing off the prize of the tourney. but his exertions caused his wound to reopen; he bled fast, and in this sad state, yet in triumph, they bore him to the palace. the fair isoude devoted herself to his relief with an interest which grew more vivid day by day; and her skilful care soon restored him to health. it happened one day that a damsel of the court, entering the closet where tristram's arms were deposited, perceived that a part of the sword had been broken off. it occurred to her that the missing portion was like that which was left in the skull of moraunt, the irish champion. she imparted her thought to the queen, who compared the fragment taken from her brother's wound with the sword of tristram, and was satisfied that it was part of the same, and that the weapon of tristram was that which reft her brother's life. she laid her griefs and resentment before the king, who satisfied himself with his own eyes of the truth of her suspicions. tristram was cited before the whole court, and reproached with having dared to present himself before them after having slain their kinsman. he acknowledged that he had fought with moraunt to settle the claim for tribute, and said that it was by force of winds and waves alone that he was thrown on their coast. the queen demanded vengeance for the death of her brother; the fair isoude trembled and grew pale, but a murmur rose from all the assembly that the life of one so handsome and so brave should not be taken for such a cause, and generosity finally triumphed over resentment in the mind of the king. tristram was dismissed in safety, but commanded to leave the kingdom without delay, and never to return thither under pain of death tristram went back, with restored health, to cornwall. king mark made his nephew give him a minute recital of his adventures. tristram told him all minutely; but when he came to speak of the fair isoude he described her charms with a warmth and energy such as none but a lover could display. king mark was fascinated with the description, and, choosing a favorable time, demanded a boon[footnote: "good faith was the very corner-stone of chivalry. whenever a knight's word was pledged (it mattered not how rashly) it was to be redeemed at any price. hence the sacred obligation of the boon granted by a knight to his suppliant. instances without number occur in romance, in which a knight, by rashly granting an indefinite boon, was obliged to do or suffer something extremely to his prejudice. but it is not in romance alone that we find such singular instances of adherence to an indefinite promise. the history of the times presents authentic transactions equally embarrassing and absurd"--scott, note to sir tristram.] of his nephew, who readily granted it. the king made him swear upon the holy reliques that he would fulfil his commands. then mark directed him to go to ireland, and obtain for him the fair isoude to be queen of cornwall. tristram believed it was certain death for him to return to ireland; and how could he act as ambassador for his uncle in such a cause? yet, bound by his oath, he hesitated not for an instant. he only took the precaution to change his armor. he embarked for ireland; but a tempest drove him to the coast of england, near camelot, where king arthur was holding his court, attended by the knights of the round table, and many others, the most illustrious in the world. tristram kept himself unknown. he took part in many justs; he fought many combats, in which he covered himself with glory. one day he saw among those recently arrived the king of ireland, father of the fair isoude. this prince, accused of treason against his liege sovereign, arthur, came to camelot to free himself from the charge. blaanor, one of the most redoubtable warriors of the round table, was his accuser, and argius, the king, had neither youthful vigor nor strength to encounter him. he must therefore seek a champion to sustain his innocence. but the knights of the round table were not at liberty to fight against one another, unless in a quarrel of their own. argius heard of the great renown of the unknown knight; he also was witness of his exploits. he sought him, and conjured him to adopt his defence, and on his oath declared that he was innocent of the crime of which he was accused. tristram readily consented, and made himself known to the king, who on his part promised to reward his exertions, if successful, with whatever gift he might ask. tristram fought with blaanor, and overthrew him, and held his life in his power. the fallen warrior called on him to use his right of conquest, and strike the fatal blow. "god forbid," said tristram, "that i should take the life of so brave a knight!" he raised him up and restored him to his friends. the judges of the field decided that the king of ireland was acquitted of the charge against him, and they led tristram in triumph to his tent. king argius, full of gratitude, conjured tristram to accompany him to his kingdom. they departed together, and arrived in ireland; and the queen, forgetting her resentment for her brother's death, exhibited to the preserver of her husband's life nothing but gratitude and good-will. how happy a moment for isoude, who knew that her father had promised his deliverer whatever boon he might ask! but the unhappy tristram gazed on her with despair, at the thought of the cruel oath which bound him. his magnanimous soul subdued the force of his love. he revealed the oath which he had taken, and with trembling voice demanded the fair isoude for his uncle. argius consented, and soon all was prepared for the departure of isoude. brengwain, her favorite maid of honor, was to accompany her. on the day of departure the queen took aside this devoted attendant, and told her that she had observed that her daughter and tristram were attached to one another, and that to avert the bad effects of this inclination she had procured from a powerful fairy a potent philter (love-draught), which she directed brengwain to administer to isoude and to king mark on the evening of their marriage. isoude and tristram embarked together. a favorable wind filled the sails, and promised them a fortunate voyage. the lovers gazed upon one another, and could not repress their sighs. love seemed to light up all his fires on their lips, as in their hearts. the day was warm; they suffered from thirst. isoude first complained. tristram descried the bottle containing the love-draught, which brengwain had been so imprudent as to leave in sight. he took it, gave some of it to the charming isoude, and drank the remainder himself. the dog houdain licked the cup. the ship arrived in cornwall, and isoude was married to king mark, the old monarch was delighted with his bride, and his gratitude to tristram was unbounded. he loaded him with honors, and made him chamberlain of his palace, thus giving him access to the queen at all times. in the midst of the festivities of the court which followed the royal marriage, an unknown minstrel one day presented himself, bearing a harp of peculiar construction. he excited the curiosity of king mark by refusing to play upon it till he should grant him a boon. the king having promised to grant his request, the minstrel, who was none other than the saracen knight, sir palamedes, the lover of the fair isoude, sung to the harp a lay, in which he demanded isoude as the promised gift. king mark could not by the laws of knighthood withhold the boon. the lady was mounted on her horse, and led away by her triumphant lover. tristram, it is needless to say, was absent at the time, and did not return until their departure. when he heard what had taken place he seized his rote, and hastened to the shore, where isoude and her new master had already embarked. tristram played upon his rote, and the sound reached the ears of isoude, who became so deeply affected, that sir palamedes was induced to return with her to land, that they might see the unknown musician. tristram watched his opportunity, seized the lady's horse by the bridle, and plunged with her into the forest, tauntingly informing his rival that "what he had got by the harp he had lost by the rote." palamedes pursued, and a combat was about to commence, the result of which must have been fatal to one or other of these gallant knights; but isoude stepped between them, and, addressing palamedes, said, "you tell me that you love me; you will not then deny me the request i am about to make?" "lady," he replied, "i will perform your bidding." "leave, then," said she, "this contest, and repair to king arthur's court, and salute queen guenever from me; tell her that there are in the world but two ladies, herself and i, and two lovers, hers and mine; and come thou not in future in any place where i am." palamedes burst into tears. "ah, lady," said he, "i will obey you; but i beseech you that you will not for ever steel your heart against me." "palamedes," she replied, "may i never taste of joy again if i ever quit my first love." palamedes then went his way. the lovers remained a week in concealment, after which tristram restored isoude to her husband, advising him in future to reward minstrels in some other way. the king showed much gratitude to tristram, but in the bottom of his heart he cherished bitter jealousy of him. one day tristram and isoude were alone together in her private chamber. a base and cowardly knight of the court, named andret, spied them through a keyhole. they sat at a table of chess, but were not attending to the game. andret brought the king, having first raised his suspicions, and placed him so as to watch their motions. the king saw enough to confirm his suspicions, and he burst into the apartment with his sword drawn, and had nearly slain tristram before he was put on his guard. but tristram avoided the blow, drew his sword, and drove before him the cowardly monarch, chasing him through all the apartments of the palace, giving him frequent blows with the flat of his sword, while he cried in vain to his knights to save him. they were not inclined, or did not dare, to interpose in his behalf. a proof of the great popularity of the tale of sir tristram is the fact that the italian poets, boiardo and ariosto, have founded upon it the idea of the two enchanted fountains, which produced the opposite effects of love and hatred. boiardo thus describes the fountain of hatred: "fair was that fountain, sculptured all of gold, with alabaster sculptured, rich and rare; and in its basin clear thou might'st behold the flowery marge reflected fresh and fair. sage merlin framed the font,--so legends bear,-- when on fair isoude doated tristram brave, that the good errant knight, arriving there, might quaff oblivion in the enchanted wave, and leave his luckless love, and 'scape his timeless grave. 'but ne'er the warrior's evil fate allowed his steps that fountain's charmed verge to gain. though restless, roving on adventure proud, he traversed oft the land and oft the main." chapter xiii tristram and isoude (continued) after this affair tristram was banished from the kingdom, and isoude shut up in a tower, which stood on the bank of a river. tristram could not resolve to depart without some further communication with his beloved; so he concealed himself in the forest, till at last he contrived to attract her attention, by means of twigs which he curiously peeled, and sent down the stream under her window. by this means many secret interviews were obtained. tristram dwelt in the forest, sustaining himself by game, which the dog houdain ran down for him; for this faithful animal was unequalled in the chase, and knew so well his master's wish for concealment, that, in the pursuit of his game, he never barked. at length tristram departed, but left houdain with isoude, as a remembrancer of him. sir tristram wandered through various countries, achieving the most perilous enterprises, and covering himself with glory, yet unhappy at the separation from his beloved isoude. at length king mark's territory was invaded by a neighboring chieftain, and he was forced to summon his nephew to his aid. tristram obeyed the call, put himself at the head of his uncle's vassals, and drove the enemy out of the country. mark was full of gratitude, and tristram, restored to favor and to the society of his beloved isoude, seemed at the summit of happiness. but a sad reverse was at hand. tristram had brought with him a friend named pheredin, son of the king of brittany. this young knight saw queen isoude, and could not resist her charms. knowing the love of his friend for the queen, and that that love was returned, pheredin concealed his own, until his health failed, and he feared he was drawing near his end. he then wrote to the beautiful queen that he was dying for love of her. the gentle isoude, in a moment of pity for the friend of tristram, returned him an answer so kind and compassionate that it restored him to life. a few days afterwards tristram found this letter. the most terrible jealousy took possession of his soul; he would have slain pheredin, who with difficulty made his escape. then tristram mounted his horse, and rode to the forest, where for ten days he took no rest nor food. at length he was found by a damsel lying almost dead by the brink of a fountain. she recognized him, and tried in vain to rouse his attention. at last recollecting his love for music she went and got her harp, and played thereon. tristram was roused from his reverie; tears flowed; he breathed more freely; he took the harp from the maiden, and sung this lay, with a voice broken with sobs: "sweet i sang in former days, kind love perfected my lays: now my art alone displays the woe that on my being preys. "charming love, delicious power, worshipped from my earliest hour, thou who life on all dost shower, love! my life thou dost devour. "in death's hour i beg of thee, isoude, dearest enemy, thou who erst couldst kinder be, when i'm gone, forget not me. "on my gravestone passers-by oft will read, as low i lie, 'never wight in love could vie with tristram, yet she let him die.'" tristram, having finished his lay, wrote it off and gave it to the damsel, conjuring her to present it to the queen. meanwhile queen isoude was inconsolable at the absence of tristram. she discovered that it was caused by the fatal letter which she had written to pheredin. innocent, but in despair at the sad effects of her letter, she wrote another to pheredin, charging him never to see her again. the unhappy lover obeyed this cruel decree. he plunged into the forest, and died of grief and love in a hermit's cell. isoude passed her days in lamenting the absence and unknown fate of tristram. one day her jealous husband, having entered her chamber unperceived, overheard her singing the following lay: "my voice to piteous wail is bent, my harp to notes of languishment; ah, love! delightsome days be meant for happier wights, with hearts content. "ah, tristram' far away from me, art thou from restless anguish free? ah! couldst thou so one moment be, from her who so much loveth thee?" the king hearing these words burst forth in a rage; but isoude was too wretched to fear his violence. "you have heard me," she said; "i confess it all. i love tristram, and always shall love him. without doubt he is dead, and died for me. i no longer wish to live. the blow that shall finish my misery will be most welcome." the king was moved at the distress of the fair isoude, and perhaps the idea of tristram's death tended to allay his wrath. he left the queen in charge of her women, commanding them to take especial care lest her despair should lead her to do harm to herself. tristram meanwhile, distracted as he was, rendered a most important service to the shepherds by slaying a gigantic robber named taullas, who was in the habit of plundering their flocks and rifling their cottages. the shepherds, in their gratitude to tristram, bore him in triumph to king mark to have him bestow on him a suitable reward. no wonder mark failed to recognize in the half-clad, wild man, before him his nephew tristram; but grateful for the service the unknown had rendered he ordered him to be well taken care of, and gave him in charge to the queen and her women. under such care tristram rapidly recovered his serenity and his health, so that the romancer tells us he became handsomer than ever. king mark's jealousy revived with tristram's health and good looks, and, in spite of his debt of gratitude so lately increased, he again banished him from the court. sir tristram left cornwall, and proceeded into the land of loegria (england) in quest of adventures. one day he entered a wide forest. the sound of a little bell showed him that some inhabitant was near. he followed the sound, and found a hermit, who informed him that he was in the forest of arnantes, belonging to the fairy viviane, the lady of the lake, who, smitten with love for king arthur, had found means to entice him to this forest, where by enchantments she held him a prisoner, having deprived him of all memory of who and what he was. the hermit informed him that all the knights of the round table were out in search of the king, and that he (tristram) was now in the scene of the most grand and important adventures. this was enough to animate tristram in the search. he had not wandered far before he encountered a knight of arthur's court, who proved to be sir kay the seneschal, who demanded of him whence he came. tristram answering, "from cornwall," sir kay did not let slip the opportunity of a joke at the expense of the cornish knight. tristram chose to leave him in his error, and even confirmed him in it; for meeting some other knights tristram declined to just with them. they spent the night together at an abbey, where tristram submitted patiently to all their jokes. the seneschal gave the word to his companions that they should set out early next day, and intercept the cornish knight on his way, and enjoy the amusement of seeing his fright when they should insist on running a tilt with him. tristram next morning found himself alone; he put on his armor, and set out to continue his quest. he soon saw before him the seneschal and the three knights, who barred the way, and insisted on a just. tristram excused himself a long time; at last he reluctantly took his stand. he encountered them, one after the other, and overthrew them all four, man and horse, and then rode off, bidding them not to forget their friend the knight of cornwall. tristram had not ridden far when he met a damsel, who cried out, "ah, my lord! hasten forward, and prevent a horrid treason!" tristram flew to her assistance, and soon reached a spot where he beheld a knight, whom three others had borne to the ground, and were unlacing his helmet in order to cut off his head. tristram flew to the rescue, and slew with one stroke of his lance one of the assailants. the knight, recovering his feet, sacrificed another to his vengeance, and the third made his escape. the rescued knight then raised the visor of his helmet, and a long white beard fell down upon his breast. the majesty and venerable air of this knight made tristram suspect that it was none other than arthur himself, and the prince confirmed his conjecture. tristram would have knelt before him, but arthur received him in his arms, and inquired his name and country; but tristram declined to disclose them, on the plea that he was now on a quest requiring secrecy. at this moment the damsel who had brought tristram to the rescue darted forward, and, seizing the king's hand, drew from his finger a ring, the gift of the fairy, and by that act dissolved the enchantment. arthur, having recovered his reason and his memory, offered to tristram to attach him to his court, and to confer honors and dignities upon him; but tristram declined all, and only consented to accompany him till he should see him safe in the hands of his knights. soon after, hector de marys rode up, and saluted the king, who on his part introduced him to tristram as one of the bravest of his knights. tristram took leave of the king and his faithful follower, and continued his quest. we cannot follow tristram through all the adventures which filled this epoch of his history. suffice it to say, he fulfilled on all occasions the duty of a true knight, rescuing the oppressed, redressing wrongs, abolishing evil customs, and suppressing injustice, thus by constant action endeavoring to lighten the pains of absence from her he loved. in the meantime isoude, separated from her dear tristram, passed her days in languor and regret. at length she could no longer resist the desire to hear some news of her lover. she wrote a letter, and sent it by one of her damsels, niece of her faithful brengwain. one day tristram, weary with his exertions, had dismounted and laid himself down by the side of a fountain and fallen asleep. the damsel of queen isoude arrived at the same fountain, and recognized passebreul, the horse of tristram, and presently perceived his master asleep. he was thin and pale, showing evident marks of the pain he suffered in separation from his beloved. she awakened him, and gave him the letter which she bore, and tristram enjoyed the pleasure, so sweet to a lover, of hearing from and talking about the object of his affections. he prayed the damsel to postpone her return till after the magnificent tournament which arthur had proclaimed should have taken place, and conducted her to the castle of persides, a brave and loyal knight, who received her with great consideration. tristram conducted the damsel of queen isoude to the tournament, and had her placed in the balcony among the ladies of the queen. "he glanced and saw the stately galleries, dame, damsel, each through worship of their queen white-robed in honor of the stainless child, and some with scatter'd jewels, like a bank of maiden snow mingled with sparks of fire. he looked but once, and veiled his eyes again." --the last tournament. he then joined the tourney. nothing could exceed his strength and valor. launcelot admired him, and by a secret presentiment declined to dispute the honor of the day with a knight so gallant and so skilful. arthur descended from the balcony to greet the conqueror; but the modest and devoted tristram, content with having borne off the prize in the sight of the messenger of isoude, made his escape with her, and disappeared. the next day the tourney recommenced. tristram assumed different armor, that he might not be known; but he was soon detected by the terrible blows that he gave, arthur and guenever had no doubt that it was the same knight who had borne off the prize of the day before. arthur's gallant spirit was roused. after launcelot of the lake and sir gawain he was accounted the best knight of the round table. he went privately and armed himself, and came into the tourney in undistinguished armor. he ran a just with tristram, whom he shook in his seat; but tristram, who did not know him, threw him out of the saddle. arthur recovered himself, and content with having made proof of the stranger knight bade launcelot finish the adventure, and vindicate the honor of the round table. sir launcelot, at the bidding of the monarch, assailed tristram, whose lance was already broken in former encounters. but the law of this sort of combat was that the knight after having broken his lance must fight with his sword, and must not refuse to meet with his shield the lance of his antagonist. tristram met launcelot's charge upon his shield, which that terrible lance could not fail to pierce. it inflicted a wound upon tristram's side, and, breaking, left the iron in the wound. but tristram also with his sword smote so vigorously on launcelot's casque that he cleft it, and wounded his head. the wound was not deep, but the blood flowed into his eyes, and blinded him for a moment, and tristram, who thought himself mortally wounded, retired from the field. launcelot declared to the king that he had never received such a blow in his life before. tristram hastened to gouvernail, his squire, who drew forth the iron, bound up the wound, and gave him immediate ease. tristram after the tournament kept retired in his tent, but arthur, with the consent of all the knights of the round table, decreed him the honors of the second day. but it was no longer a secret that the victor of the two days was the same individual, and gouvernail, being questioned, confirmed the suspicions of launcelot and arthur that it was no other than sir tristram of leonais, the nephew of the king of cornwall. king arthur, who desired to reward his distinguished valor, and knew that his uncle mark had ungratefully banished him, would have eagerly availed himself of the opportunity to attach tristram to his court,--all the knights of the round table declaring with acclamation that it would be impossible to find a more worthy companion. but tristram had already departed in search of adventures, and the damsel of queen isoude returned to her mistress. chapter xiv sir tristram's battle with sir launcelot sir tristram rode through a forest and saw ten men fighting, and one man did battle against nine. so he rode to the knights and cried to them, bidding them cease their battle, for they did themselves great shame, so many knights to fight against one. then answered the master of the knights (his name was sir breuse sans pitie, who was at that time the most villanous knight living): "sir knight, what have ye to do to meddle with us? if ye be wise depart on your way as you came, for this knight shall not escape us." "that were pity," said sir tristram, "that so good a knight should be slain so cowardly; therefore i warn you i will succor him with all my puissance." then sir tristram alighted off his horse, because they were on foot, that they should not slay his horse. and he smote on the right hand and on the left so vigorously that well-nigh at every stroke he struck down a knight. at last they fled, with breuse sans pitie, into the tower, and shut sir tristram without the gate. then sir tristram returned back to the rescued knight, and found him sitting under a tree, sore wounded. "fair knight," said he, "how is it with you?" "sir knight," said sir palamedes, for he it was, "i thank you of your great goodness, for ye have rescued me from death." "what is your name?" said sir tristram. he said, "my name is sir palamedes." "say ye so?" said sir tristram; "now know that thou art the man in the world that i most hate; therefore make thee ready, for i will do battle with thee." "what is your name?" said sir palamedes. "my name is sir tristram, your mortal enemy." "it may be so," said sir palamedes; "but you have done overmuch for me this day, that i should fight with you. moreover, it will be no honor for you to have to do with me, for you are fresh and i am wounded. therefore, if you will needs have to do with me, assign me a day, and i shall meet you without fail." "you say well, "said sir tristram; "now i assign you to meet me in the meadow by the river of camelot, where merlin set the monument." so they were agreed. then they departed and took their ways diverse. sir tristram passed through a great forest into a plain, till he came to a priory, and there he reposed him with a good man six days. then departed sir tristram, and rode straight into camelot to the monument of merlin, and there he looked about him for sir palamedes. and he perceived a seemly knight, who came riding against him all in white, with a covered shield. when he came nigh sir tristram said aloud, "welcome, sir knight, and well and truly have you kept your promise." then they made ready their shields and spears, and came together with all the might of their horses, so fiercely, that both the horses and the knights fell to the earth. and as soon as they might they quitted their horses, and struck together with bright swords as men of might, and each wounded the other wonderfully sore, so that the blood ran out upon the grass. thus they fought for the space of four hours and never one would speak to the other one word. then at last spake the white knight, and said, "sir, thou fightest wonderful well, as ever i saw knight; therefore, if it please you, tell me your name." "why dost thou ask my name?" said sir tristram; "art thou not sir palamedes?" "no, fair knight," said he, "i am sir launcelot of the lake." "alas!" said sir tristram, "what have i done? for you are the man of the world that i love best." "fair knight," said sir launcelot, "tell me your name." "truly," said he, "my name is sir tristram de lionesse." "alas! alas!" said sir launcelot, "what adventure has befallen me!" and therewith sir launcelot kneeled down and yielded him up his sword; and sir tristram kneeled down and yielded him up his sword; and so either gave other the degree. and then they both went to the stone, and sat them down upon it and took off their helms and each kissed the other a hundred times. and then anon they rode toward camelot, and on the way they met with sir gawain and sir gaheris, that had made promise to arthur never to come again to the court till they had brought sir tristram with them. "return again," said sir launcelot, "for your quest is done; for i have met with sir tristram. lo, here he is in his own person." then was sir gawain glad, and said to sir tristram, "ye are welcome." with this came king arthur, and when he wist there was sir tristram, he ran unto him, and took him by the hand, and said, "sir tristram, ye are as welcome as any knight that ever came to this court." then sir tristram told the king how he came thither for to have had to do with sir palamedes, and how he had rescued him from sir breuse sans pitie and the nine knights. then king arthur took sir tristram by the hand, and went to the table round, and queen guenever came, and many ladies with her, and all the ladies said with one voice, "welcome, sir tristram." "welcome," said the knights. "welcome," said arthur, "for one of the best of knights, and the gentlest of the world, and the man of most worship; for of all manner of hunting thou bearest the prize, and of all measures of blowing thou art the beginning, and of all the terms of hunting and hawking ye are the inventor, and of all instruments of music ye are the best skilled; therefore, gentle knight," said arthur, "ye are welcome to this court." and then king arthur made sir tristram knight of the table round with great nobley and feasting as can be thought. sir tristram as a sportsman tristram is often alluded to by the romancers as the great authority and model in all matters relating to the chase. in the "faery queene," tristram, in answer to the inquiries of sir calidore, informs him of his name and parentage, and concludes: "all which my days i have not lewdly spent, nor spilt the blossom of my tender years in idlesse; but, as was convenient, have trained been with many noble feres in gentle thewes, and such like seemly leers; 'mongst which my most delight hath always been to hunt the salvage chace, amongst my peers, of all that rangeth in the forest green, of which none is to me unknown that yet was seen. "ne is there hawk which mantleth on her perch, whether high towering or accosting low, but i the measure of her flight do search, and all her prey, and all her diet know. such be our joys, which in these forests grow." [footnote: feres, companions; thewes, labors; leers, learning.] chapter xv the round table the famous enchanter, merlin, had exerted all his skill in fabricating the round table. of the seats which surrounded it he had constructed thirteen, in memory of the thirteen apostles. twelve of these seats only could be occupied, and they only by knights of the highest fame; the thirteenth represented the seat of the traitor judas. it remained always empty. it was called the perilous seat, ever since a rash and haughty saracen knight had dared to place himself in it, when the earth opened and swallowed him up. "in our great hall there stood a vacant chair, fashion'd by merlin ere he past away, and carven with strange figures; and in and out the figures, like a serpent, ran a scroll of letters in a tongue no man could read and merlin call'd it 'the siege perilous,' perilous for good and ill; 'for there,' he said, 'no man could sit but he should lose himself.'" --the holy grail. a magic power wrote upon each seat the name of the knight who was entitled to sit in it. no one could succeed to a vacant seat unless he surpassed in valor and glorious deeds the knight who had occupied it before him; without this qualification he would be violently repelled by a hidden force. thus proof was made of all those who presented themselves to replace any companions of the order who had fallen. one of the principal seats, that of moraunt of ireland, had been vacant ten years, and his name still remained over it ever since the time when that distinguished champion fell beneath the sword of sir tristram. arthur now took tristram by the hand and led him to that seat. immediately the most melodious sounds were heard, and exquisite perfumes filled the place; the name of moraunt disappeared, and that of tristram blazed forth in light. the rare modesty of tristram had now to be subjected to a severe task; for the clerks charged with the duty of preserving the annals of the round table attended, and he was required by the law of his order to declare what feats of arms he had accomplished to entitle him to take that seat. this ceremony being ended, tristram received the congratulations of all his companions. sir launcelot and guenever took the occasion to speak to him of the fair isoude, and to express their wish that some happy chance might bring her to the kingdom of loegria. while tristram was thus honored and caressed at the court of king arthur, the most gloomy and malignant jealousy harassed the soul of mark. he could not look upon isoude without remembering that she loved tristram, and the good fortune of his nephew goaded him to thoughts of vengeance. he at last resolved to go disguised into the kingdom of loegria, attack tristram by stealth, and put him to death. he took with him two knights, brought up in his court, who he thought were devoted to him; and, not willing to leave isoude behind, named two of her maidens to attend her, together with her faithful brengwain, and made them accompany him. having arrived in the neighborhood of camelot, mark imparted his plan to his two knights, but they rejected it with horror; nay, more, they declared that they would no longer remain in his service; and left him, giving him reason to suppose that they should repair to the court to accuse him before arthur. it was necessary for mark to meet and rebut their accusation; so, leaving isoude in an abbey, he pursued his way alone to camelot. mark had not ridden far when he encountered a party of knights of arthur's court, and would have avoided them, for he knew their habit of challenging to a just every stranger knight whom they met. but it was too late. they had seen his armor, and recognized him as a cornish knight, and at once resolved to have some sport with him. it happened they had with them daguenet, king arthur's fool, who, though deformed and weak of body, was not wanting in courage. the knights as mark approached laid their plan that daguenet should personate sir launcelot of the lake, and challenge the cornish knight. they equipped him in armor belonging to one of their number who was ill, and sent him forward to the cross-road to defy the strange knight. mark, who saw that his antagonist was by no means formidable in appearance, was not disinclined to the combat; but when the dwarf rode towards him, calling out that he was sir launcelot of the lake, his fears prevailed, he put spurs to his horse, and rode away at full speed, pursued by the shouts and laughter of the party. meanwhile isoude, remaining at the abbey with her faithful brengwain, found her only amusement in walking occasionally in a forest adjoining the abbey. there, on the brink of a fountain girdled with trees, she thought of her love, and sometimes joined her voice and her harp in lays reviving the memory of its pains or pleasures. one day the caitiff knight, breuse the pitiless, heard her voice, concealed himself, and drew near. she sang: "sweet silence, shadowy bower, and verdant lair, ye court my troubled spirit to repose, whilst i, such dear remembrance rises there, awaken every echo with my woes "within these woods, by nature's hand arrayed, a fountain springs, and feeds a thousand flowers; ah! how my groans do all its murmurs aid! how my sad eyes do swell it with their showers! "what doth my knight the while? to him is given a double meed; in love and arms' emprise, him the round table elevates to heaven! tristram! ah me! he hears not isoude's cries." breuse the pitiless, who like most other caitiffs had felt the weight of tristram's arm, and hated him accordingly, at hearing his name breathed forth by the beautiful songstress, impelled by a double impulse, rushed forth from his concealment and laid hands on his victim. isoude fainted, and brengwain filled the air with her shrieks. breuse carried isoude to the place where he had left his horse; but the animal had got away from his bridle, and was at some distance. he was obliged to lay down his fair burden, and go in pursuit of his horse. just then a knight came up, drawn by the cries of brengwain, and demanded the cause of her distress. she could not speak, but pointed to her mistress lying insensible on the ground. breuse had by this time returned, and the cries of brengwain, renewed at seeing him, sufficiently showed the stranger the cause of the distress. tristram spurred his horse towards breuse, who, not unprepared, ran to the encounter. breuse was unhorsed, and lay motionless, pretending to be dead; but when the stranger knight left him to attend to the distressed damsels, he mounted his horse, and made his escape. the knight now approached isoude, gently raised her head, drew aside the golden hair which covered her countenance, gazed thereon for an instant, uttered a cry, and fell back insensible. brengwain came; her cares soon restored her mistress to life, and they then turned their attention to the fallen warrior. they raised his visor, and discovered the countenance of sir tristram. isoude threw herself on the body of her lover, and bedewed his face with her tears. their warmth revived the knight, and tristram on awaking found himself in the arms of his dear isoude. it was the law of the round table that each knight after his admission should pass the next ten days in quest of adventures, during which time his companions might meet him in disguised armor and try their strength with him. tristram had now been out seven days, and in that time had encountered many of the best knights of the round table, and acquitted himself with honor. during the remaining three days, isoude remained at the abbey, under his protection, and then set out with her maidens, escorted by sir tristram, to rejoin king mark at the court of camelot. this happy journey was one of the brightest epochs in the lives of tristram and isoude. he celebrated it by a lay upon the harp in a peculiar measure, to which the french give the name of triolet. "with fair isoude, and with love, ah! how sweet the life i lead! how blest for ever thus to rove, with fair isoude, and with love! as she wills, i live and move, and cloudless days to days succeed: with fair isoude, and with love, ah! how sweet the life i lead! "journeying on from break of day, feel you not fatigued, my fair? yon green turf invites to play; journeying on from day to day, ah! let us to that shade away, were it but to slumber there! journeying on from break of day, feel you not fatigued, my fair?" they arrived at camelot, where sir launcelot received them most cordially. isoude was introduced to king arthur and queen guenever, who welcomed her as a sister. as king mark was held in arrest under the accusation of the two cornish knights, queen isoude could not rejoin her husband, and sir launcelot placed his castle of la joyeuse garde at the disposal of his friends, who there took up their abode. king mark, who found himself obliged to confess the truth of the charge against him, or to clear himself by combat with his accusers, preferred the former, and king arthur, as his crime had not been perpetrated, remitted the penalty, only enjoining upon him, under pain of his signal displeasure, to lay aside all thoughts of vengeance against his nephew. in the presence of the king and his court all parties were formally reconciled; mark and his queen departed for their home, and tristram remained at arthur's court. chapter xvi sir palamedes while sir tristram and the fair isoude abode yet at la joyeuse garde, sir tristram rode forth one day, without armor, having no weapon but his spear and his sword. and as he rode he came to a place where he saw two knights in battle, and one of them had gotten the better and the other lay overthrown. the knight who had the better was sir palamedes. when sir palamedes knew sir tristram, he cried out, "sir tristram, now we be met, and ere we depart we will redress our old wrongs." "as for that," said sir tristram, "there never yet was christian man that might make his boast that i ever fled from him, and thou that art a saracen shalt never say that of me." and therewith sir tristram made his horse to run, and with all his might came straight upon sir palamedes, and broke his spear upon him. then he drew his sword and struck at sir palamedes six great strokes, upon his helm. sir palamedes saw that sir tristram had not his armor on, and he marvelled at his rashness and his great folly; and said to himself, "if i meet and slay him, i am shamed wheresoever i go." then sir tristram cried out and said, "thou coward knight, why wilt thou not do battle with me? for have thou no doubt i shall endure all thy malice." "ah, sir tristram!" said sir palamedes, "thou knowest i may not fight with thee for shame; for thou art here naked, and i am armed; now i require that thou answer me a question that i shall ask you." "tell me what it is," said sir tristram. "i put the case," said palamedes, "that you were well armed, and i naked as ye be; what would you do to me now, by your true knighthood?" "ah!" said sir tristram, "now i understand thee well, sir palamedes; and, as god bless me, what i shall say shall not be said for fear that i have of thee. but if it were so, thou shouldest depart from me, for i would not have to do with thee." "no more will i with thee," said sir palamedes, "and therefore ride forth on thy way." "as for that, i may choose," said sir tristram, "either to ride or to abide. but, sir palamedes, i marvel at one thing,--that thou art so good a knight, yet that thou wilt not be christened." "as for that," said sir palamedes, "i may not yet be christened, for a vow which i made many years ago; yet in my heart i believe in our saviour and his mild mother, mary; but i have yet one battle to do, and when that is done i will be christened, with a good will." "by my head," said sir tristram, "as for that one battle, thou shalt seek it no longer; for yonder is a knight, whom you have smitten down. now help me to be clothed in his armor, and i will soon fulfil thy vow." "as ye will," said sir palamedes, "so shall it be." so they rode both unto that knight that sat on a bank; and sir tristram saluted him, and he full weary saluted him again. "sir," said sir tristram, "i pray you to lend me your whole armor; for i am unarmed, and i must do battle with this knight." "sir," said the hurt knight, "you shall have it, with a right good will," then sir tristram unarmed sir galleron, for that was the name of the hurt knight, and he as well as he could helped to arm sir tristram. then sir tristram mounted upon his own horse, and in his hand he took sir galleron's spear. thereupon sir palamedes was ready, and so they came hurling together, and each smote the other in the midst of their shields. sir palamedes' spear broke, and sir tristram smote down the horse. then sir palamedes leapt from his horse, and drew out his sword. that saw sir tristram, and therewith he alighted and tied his horse to a tree. then they came together as two wild beasts, lashing the one on the other, and so fought more than two hours; and often sir tristram smote such strokes at sir palamedes that he made him to kneel, and sir palamedes broke away sir tristram's shield, and wounded him. then sir tristram was wroth out of measure, and he rushed to sir palamedes and wounded him passing sore through the shoulder, and by fortune smote sir palamedes' sword out of his hand and if sir palamedes had stooped for his sword sir tristram had slain him. then sir palamedes stood and beheld his sword with a full sorrowful heart. "now," said sir tristram, "i have thee at a vantage, as thou hadst me to-day; but it shall never be said, in court, or among good knights, that sir tristram did slay any knight that was weaponless; therefore take thou thy sword, and let us fight this battle to the end." then spoke sir palamedes to sir tristram: "i have no wish to fight this battle any more. the offence that i have done unto you is not so great but that, if it please you, we may be friends. all that i have offended is for the love of the queen, la belle isoude, and i dare maintain that she is peerless among ladies; and for that offence ye have given me many grievous and sad strokes, and some i have given you again. wherefore i require you, my lord sir tristram, forgive me all that i have offended you, and this day have me unto the next church; and first i will be clean confessed, and after that see you that i be truly baptized, and then we will ride together unto the court of my lord, king arthur, so that we may be there at the feast of pentecost." "now take your horse," said sir tristram, "and as you have said, so shall it be done." so they took their horses, and sir galleron rode with them. when they came to the church of carlisle, the bishop commanded to fill a great vessel with water; and when he had hallowed it, he then confessed sir palamedes clean, and christened him, and sir tristram and sir galleron were his godfathers. then soon after they departed, and rode towards camelot, where the noble king arthur and queen guenever were keeping a court royal. and the king and all the court were glad that sir palamedes was christened. then sir tristram returned again to la joyeuse garde, and sir palamedes went his way. not long after these events sir gawain returned from brittany, and related to king arthur the adventure which befell him in the forest of breciliande, how merlin had there spoken to him, and enjoined him to charge the king to go without delay upon the quest of the holy greal. while king arthur deliberated tristram determined to enter upon the quest, and the more readily, as it was well known to him that this holy adventure would, if achieved, procure him the pardon of all his sins. he immediately departed for the kingdom of brittany, hoping there to obtain from merlin counsel as to the proper course to pursue to insure success. chapter xvii sir tristram on arriving in brittany tristram found king hoel engaged in a war with a rebellious vassal, and hard pressed by his enemy. his best knights had fallen in a late battle, and he knew not where to turn for assistance. tristram volunteered his aid. it was accepted; and the army of hoel, led by tristram, and inspired by his example, gained a complete victory. the king, penetrated by the most lively sentiments of gratitude, and having informed himself of tristram's birth, offered him his daughter in marriage. the princess was beautiful and accomplished, and bore the same name with the queen of cornwall; but this one is designated by the romancers as isoude of the white hands, to distinguish her from isoude the fair. how can we describe the conflict that agitated the heart of tristram? he adored the first isoude, but his love for her was hopeless, and not unaccompanied by remorse. moreover, the sacred quest on which he had now entered demanded of him perfect purity of life. it seemed as if a happy destiny had provided for him in the charming princess isoude of the white hands the best security for all his good resolutions. this last reflection determined him. they were married, and passed some months in tranquil happiness at the court of king hoel. the pleasure which tristram felt in his wife's society increased day by day. an inward grace seemed to stir within him from the moment when he took the oath to go on the quest of the holy greal; it seemed even to triumph over the power of the magic love-potion. the war, which had been quelled for a time, now burst out anew. tristram as usual was foremost in every danger. the enemy was worsted in successive conflicts, and at last shut himself up in his principal city. tristram led on the attack of the city. as he mounted a ladder to scale the walls he was struck on the head by a fragment of rock, which the besieged threw down upon him. it bore him to the ground, where he lay insensible. as soon as he recovered consciousness he demanded to be carried to his wife. the princess, skilled in the art of surgery, would not suffer any one but herself to touch her beloved husband. her fair hands bound up his wounds; tristram kissed them with gratitude, which began to grow into love. at first the devoted cares of isoude seemed to meet with great success; but after a while these flattering appearances vanished, and, in spite of all her care, the malady grew more serious day by day. in this perplexity, an old squire of tristram's reminded his master that the princess of ireland, afterwards queen of cornwall, had once cured him under circumstances quite as discouraging. he called isoude of the white hands to him, told her of his former cure, added that he believed that the queen isoude could heal him, and that he felt sure that she would come to his relief, if sent for. isoude of the white hands consented that gesnes, a trusty man and skilful navigator, should be sent to cornwall. tristram called him, and, giving him a ring, "take this," he said, "to the queen of cornwall. tell her that tristram, near to death, demands her aid. if you succeed in bringing her with you, place white sails to your vessel on your return, that we may know of your success when the vessel first heaves in sight. but if queen isoude refuses, put on black sails; they will be the presage of my impending death." gesnes performed his mission successfully. king mark happened to be absent from his capital, and the queen readily consented to return with the bark to brittany. gesnes clothed his vessel in the whitest of sails, and sped his way back to brittany. meantime the wound of tristram grew more desperate day by day. his strength, quite prostrated, no longer permitted him to be carried to the seaside daily, as had been his custom from the first moment when it was possible for the bark to be on the way homeward. he called a young damsel, and gave her in charge to keep watch in the direction of cornwall, and to come and tell him the color of the sails of the first vessel she should see approaching. when isoude of the white hands consented that the queen of cornwall should be sent for, she had not known all the reasons which she had for fearing the influence which renewed intercourse with that princess might have on her own happiness. she had now learned more, and felt the danger more keenly. she thought, if she could only keep the knowledge of the queen's arrival from her husband, she might employ in his service any resources which her skill could supply, and still avert the dangers which she apprehended. when the vessel was seen approaching, with its white sails sparkling in the sun, the damsel, by command of her mistress, carried word to tristram that the sails were black. tristram, penetrated with inexpressible grief, breathed a profound sigh, turned away his face, and said, "alas, my beloved! we shall never see one another again!" then he commended himself to god, and breathed his last. the death of tristram was the first intelligence which the queen of cornwall heard on landing. she was conducted almost senseless into the chamber of tristram, and expired holding him in her arms. tristram, before his death, had requested that his body should be sent to cornwall, and that his sword, with a letter he had written, should be delivered to king mark. the remains of tristram and isoude were embarked in a vessel, along with the sword, which was presented to the king of cornwall. he was melted with tenderness when he saw the weapon which slew moraunt of ireland,-- which had so often saved his life, and redeemed the honor of his kingdom. in the letter tristram begged pardon of his uncle, and related the story of the amorous draught. mark ordered the lovers to be buried in his own chapel. from the tomb of tristram there sprung a vine, which went along the walls, and descended into the grave of the queen. it was cut down three times, but each time sprung up again more vigorous than before, and this wonderful plant has ever since shaded the tombs of tristram and isoude. spenser introduces sir tristram in his "faery queene." in book vi., canto ii., sir calidore encounters in the forest a young hunter, whom he thus describes: "him steadfastly he marked, and saw to be a goodly youth of amiable grace, yet but a slender slip, that scarce did see yet seventeen yeares; but tall and faire of face, that sure he deemed him borne of noble race. all in a woodman's jacket he was clad of lincoln greene, belayed with silver lace; and on his head an hood with aglets sprad, and by his side his hunter's horne he hanging had. [footnote: aglets, points or tags] "buskins he wore of costliest cordawayne, pinckt upon gold, and paled part per part, as then the guize was for each gentle swayne. in his right hand he held a trembling dart, whose fellow he before had sent apart; and in his left he held a sharp bore-speare, with which he wont to launch the salvage heart of many a lyon, and of many a beare, that first unto his hand in chase did happen neare." [footnote: pinckt upon gold, etc., adorned with golden points, or eyelets, and regularly intersected with stripes. paled (in heraldry), striped] chapter xviii perceval the father and two elder brothers of perceval had fallen in battle or tournaments, and hence, as the last hope of his family, his mother retired with him into a solitary region, where he was brought up in total ignorance of arms and chivalry. he was allowed no weapon but "a lyttel scots spere," which was the only thing of all "her lordes faire gere" that his mother carried to the wood with her. in the use of this he became so skilful, that he could kill with it not only the animals of the chase for the table, but even birds on the wing. at length, however, perceval was roused to a desire of military renown by seeing in the forest five knights who were in complete armor. he said to his mother, "mother, what are those yonder?" "they are angels, my son," said she. "by my faith, i will go and become an angel with them." and perceval went to the road and met them. "tell me, good lad," said one of them, "sawest thou a knight pass this way either today or yesterday?" "i know not," said he, "what a knight is." "such an one as i am," said the knight. "if thou wilt tell me what i ask thee, i will tell thee what thou askest me." "gladly will i do so," said sir owain, for that was the knight's name. "what is this?" demanded perceval, touching the saddle. "it is a saddle," said owain. then he asked about all the accoutrements which he saw upon the men and the horses, and about the arms, and what they were for, and how they were used. and sir owain showed him all those things fully. and perceval in return gave him such information as he had then perceval returned to his mother, and said to her, "mother, those were not angels, but honorable knights." then his mother swooned away. and perceval went to the place where they kept the horses that carried firewood and provisions for the castle, and he took a bony, piebald horse, which seemed to him the strongest of them. and he pressed a pack into the form of a saddle, and with twisted twigs he imitated the trappings which he had seen upon the horses. when he came again to his mother, the countess had recovered from her swoon. "my son," said she, "desirest thou to ride forth?" "yes, with thy leave," said he. "go forward, then," she said, "to the court of arthur, where there are the best and the noblest and the most bountiful of men, and tell him thou art perceval, the son of pelenore, and ask of him to bestow knighthood on thee. and whenever thou seest a church, repeat there thy pater- noster; and if thou see meat and drink, and hast need of them, thou mayest take them. if thou hear an outcry of one in distress, proceed toward it, especially if it be the cry of a woman, and render her what service thou canst. if thou see a fair jewel, win it, for thus shalt thou acquire fame; yet freely give it to another, for thus thou shalt obtain praise. if thou see a fair woman, pay court to her, for thus thou wilt obtain love." after this discourse perceval mounted the horse and taking a number of sharp-pointed sticks in his hand he rode forth. and he rode far in the woody wilderness without food or drink. at last he came to an opening in the wood where he saw a tent, and as he thought it might be a church he said his pater-noster to it. and he went towards it; and the door of the tent was open. and perceval dismounted and entered the tent. in the tent he found a maiden sitting, with a golden frontlet on her forehead and a gold ring on her hand. and perceval said, "maiden, i salute you, for my mother told me whenever i met a lady i must respectfully salute her." perceiving in one corner of the tent some food, two flasks full of wine, and some boar's flesh roasted, he said, "my mother told me, whenever i saw meat and drink to take it." and he ate greedily, for he was very hungry. the maiden said, "sir, thou hadst best go quickly from here, for fear that my friends should come, and evil should befall you." but perceval said, "my mother told me wheresoever i saw a fair jewel to take it," and he took the gold ring from her finger, and put it on his own; and he gave the maiden his own ring in exchange for hers; then he mounted his horse and rode away. perceval journeyed on till he arrived at arthur's court. and it so happened that just at that time an uncourteous knight had offered queen guenever a gross insult. for when her page was serving the queen with a golden goblet, this knight struck the arm of the page and dashed the wine in the queen's face and over her stomacher. then he said, "if any have boldness to avenge this insult to guenever, let him follow me to the meadow." so the knight took his horse and rode to the meadow, carrying away the golden goblet. and all the household hung down their heads and no one offered to follow the knight to take vengeance upon him. for it seemed to them that no one would have ventured on so daring an outrage unless he possessed such powers, through magic or charms, that none could be able to punish him. just then, behold, perceval entered the hall upon the bony, piebald horse, with his uncouth trappings. in the centre of the hall stood kay the seneschal. "tell me, tall man," said perceval, "is that arthur yonder?" "what wouldst thou with arthur?" asked kay. "my mother told me to go to arthur and receive knighthood from him." "by my faith," said he, "thou art all too meanly equipped with horse and with arms." then all the household began to jeer and laugh at him. but there was a certain damsel who had been a whole year at arthur's court, and had never been known to smile. and the king's fool [footnote: a fool was a common appendage of the courts of those days when this romance was written. a fool was the ornament held in next estimation to a dwarf. he wore a white dress with a yellow bonnet, and carried a bell or bawble in his hand. though called a fool, his words were often weighed and remembered as if there were a sort of oracular meaning in them.] had said that this damsel would not smile till she had seen him who would be the flower of chivalry. now this damsel came up to perceval and told him, smiling, that if he lived he would be one of the bravest and best of knights. "truly," said kay, "thou art ill taught to remain a year at arthur's court, with choice of society, and smile on no one, and now before the face of arthur and all his knights to call such a man as this the flower of knighthood;" and he gave her a box on the ear, that she fell senseless to the ground. then said kay to perceval, "go after the knight who went hence to the meadow, overthrow him and recover the golden goblet, and possess thyself of his horse and arms, and thou shalt have knighthood." "i will do so, tall man," said perceval. so he turned his horse's head toward the meadow. and when he came there, the knight was riding up and down, proud of his strength and valor and noble mien. "tell me," said the knight, "didst thou see any one coming after me from the court?" "the tall man that was there," said perceval, "told me to come and overthrow thee, and to take from thee the goblet and thy horse and armor for myself." "silence!" said the knight; "go back to the court, and tell arthur either to come himself, or to send some other to fight with me; and unless he do so quickly, i will not wait for him." "by my faith," said perceval, "choose thou whether it shall be willingly or unwillingly, for i will have the horse and the arms and the goblet." upon this the knight ran at him furiously, and struck him a violent blow with the shaft of his spear, between the neck and the shoulder. "ha, ha, lad!" said perceval, "my mother's servants were not used to play with me in this wise; so thus will i play with thee." and he threw at him one of his sharp-pointed sticks, and it struck him in the eye, and came out at the back of his head, so that he fell down lifeless. "verily," said sir owain, the son of urien, to kay the seneschal, "thou wast ill-advised to send that madman after the knight, for he must either be overthrown or flee, and either way it will be a disgrace to arthur and his warriors; therefore will i go to see what has befallen him." so sir owain went to the meadow, and he found perceval trying in vain to get the dead knight's armor off, in order to clothe himself with it. sir owain unfastened the armor, and helped perceval to put it on, and taught him how to put his foot in the stirrup, and use the spur; for perceval had never used stirrup nor spur, but rode without saddle, and urged on his horse with a stick. then owain would have had him return to the court to receive the praise that was his due; but perceval said, "i will not come to the court till i have encountered the tall man that is there, to revenge the injury he did to the maiden. but take thou the goblet to queen guenever, and tell king arthur that, wherever i am, i will be his vassal, and will do him what profit and service i can." and sir owain went back to the court, and related all these things to arthur and guenever, and to all the household. and perceval rode forward. and he came to a lake on the side of which was a fair castle, and on the border of the lake he saw a hoary-headed man sitting upon a velvet cushion, and his attendants were fishing in the lake. when the hoary-headed man beheld perceval approaching, he arose and went into the castle. perceval rode to the castle, and the door was open, and he entered the hall. and the hoary-headed man received perceval courteously, and asked him to sit by him on the cushion. when it was time the tables were set, and they went to meat. and when they had finished their meat the hoary-headed man asked perceval if he knew how to fight with the sword "i know not," said perceval, "but were i to be taught, doubtless i should." and the hoary-headed man said to him, "i am thy uncle, thy mother's brother; i am called king pecheur.[footnote: the word means both fisher and sinner.] thou shalt remain with me a space, in order to learn the manners and customs of different countries, and courtesy and noble bearing. and this do thou remember, if thou seest aught to cause thy wonder, ask not the meaning of it; if no one has the courtesy to inform thee, the reproach will not fall upon thee, but upon me that am thy teacher." while perceval and his uncle discoursed together, perceval beheld two youths enter the hall bearing a golden cup and a spear of mighty size, with blood dropping from its point to the ground. and when all the company saw this they began to weep and lament. but for all that, the man did not break off his discourse with perceval. and as he did not tell him the meaning of what he saw, he forebore to ask him concerning it. now the cup that perceval saw was the sangreal, and the spear the sacred spear; and afterwards king pecheur removed with those sacred relics into a far country. one evening perceval entered a valley, and came to a hermit's cell; and the hermit welcomed him gladly, and there he spent the night. and in the morning he arose, and when he went forth, behold! a shower of snow had fallen in the night, and a hawk had killed a wild-fowl in front of the cell. and the noise of the horse had scared the hawk away, and a raven alighted on the bird. and perceval stood and compared the blackness of the raven and the whiteness of the snow and the redness of the blood to the hair of the lady that best he loved, which was blacker than jet, and to her skin, which was whiter than the snow, and to the two red spots upon her cheeks, which were redder than the blood upon the snow. now arthur and his household were in search of perceval, and by chance they came that way. "know ye," said arthur, "who is the knight with the long spear that stands by the brook up yonder?" "lord," said one of them, "i will go and learn who he is." so the youth came to the place where perceval was, and asked him what he did thus, and who he was. but perceval was so intent upon his thought that he gave him no answer. then the youth thrust at perceval with his lance; and perceval turned upon him, and struck him to the ground. and when the youth returned to the king, and told how rudely he had been treated, sir kay said, "i will go myself." and when he greeted perceval, and got no answer, he spoke to him rudely and angrily. and perceval thrust at him with his lance, and cast him down so that he broke his arm and his shoulder-blade. and while he lay thus stunned his horse returned back at a wild and prancing pace. then said sir gawain, surnamed the golden-tongued, because he was the most courteous knight in arthur's court: "it is not fitting that any should disturb an honorable knight from his thought unadvisedly; for either he is pondering some damage that he has sustained, or he is thinking of the lady whom best he loves. if it seem well to thee, lord, i will go and see if this knight has changed from his thought, and if he has, i will ask him courteously to come and visit thee." and perceval was resting on the shaft of his spear, pondering the same thought, and sir gawain came to him, and said: "if i thought it would be as agreeable to thee as it would be to me, i would converse with thee. i have also a message from arthur unto thee, to pray thee to come and visit him. and two men have been before on this errand." "that is true," said perceval; "and uncourteously they came. they attacked me, and i was annoyed thereat" then he told him the thought that occupied his mind, and gawain said, "this was not an ungentle thought, and i should marvel if it were pleasant for thee to be drawn from it." then said perceval, "tell me, is sir kay in arthur's court?" "he is," said gawain; "and truly he is the knight who fought with thee last." "verily," said perceval, "i am not sorry to have thus avenged the insult to the smiling maiden. "then perceval told him his name, and said, "who art thou?" and he replied, "i am gawain." "i am right glad to meet thee," said perceval, "for i have everywhere heard of thy prowess and uprightness; and i solicit thy fellowship." "thou shalt have it, by my faith; and grant me thine," said he. "gladly will i do so," answered perceval. so they went together to arthur, and saluted him. "behold, lord," said gawain, "him whom thou hast sought so long." "welcome unto thee, chieftain," said arthur. and hereupon there came the queen and her handmaidens, and perceval saluted them. and they were rejoiced to see him, and bade him welcome. and arthur did him great honor and respect and they returned towards caerleon. chapter xix the sangreal, or holy graal the sangreal was the cup from which our saviour drank at his last supper. he was supposed to have given it to joseph of arimathea, who carried it to europe, together with the spear with which the soldier pierced the saviour's side. from generation to generation, one of the descendants of joseph of arimathea had been devoted to the guardianship of these precious relics; but on the sole condition of leading a life of purity in thought, word, and deed. for a long time the sangreal was visible to all pilgrims, and its presence conferred blessings upon the land in which it was preserved. but at length one of those holy men to whom its guardianship had descended so far forgot the obligation of his sacred office as to look with unhallowed eye upon a young female pilgrim whose robe was accidentally loosened as she knelt before him. the sacred lance instantly punished his frailty, spontaneously falling upon him, and inflicting a deep wound. the marvellous wound could by no means be healed, and the guardian of the sangreal was ever after called "le roi pescheur,"--the sinner king. the sangreal withdrew its visible presence from the crowds who came to worship, and an iron age succeeded to the happiness which its presence had diffused among the tribes of britain. "but then the times grew to such evil that the holy cup was caught away to heaven and disappear'd." --the holy grail. we have told in the history of merlin how that great prophet and enchanter sent a message to king arthur by sir gawain, directing him to undertake the recovery of the sangreal, informing him at the same time that the knight who should accomplish that sacred quest was already born, and of a suitable age to enter upon it. sir gawain delivered his message, and the king was anxiously revolving in his mind how best to achieve the enterprise, when, at the vigil of pentecost, all the fellowship of the round table being met together at camelot, as they sat at meat, suddenly there was heard a clap of thunder, and then a bright light burst forth, and every knight, as he looked on his fellow, saw him, in seeming, fairer than ever before. all the hall was filled with sweet odors, and every knight had such meat and drink as he best loved. then there entered into the hall the holy graal, covered with white samite, so that none could see it, and it passed through the hall suddenly, and disappeared. during this time no one spoke a word, but when they had recovered breath to speak king arthur said, "certainly we ought greatly to thank the lord for what he hath showed us this day." then sir gawain rose up, and made a vow that for twelve months and a day he would seek the sangreal, and not return till he had seen it, if so he might speed. when they of the round table heard sir gawain say so, they arose, the most part of them, and vowed the same. when king arthur heard this, he was greatly displeased, for he knew well that they might not gainsay their vows. "alas!" said he to sir gawain, "you have nigh slain me with the vow and promise that ye have made, for ye have bereft me of the fairest fellowship that ever were seen together in any realm of the world; for when they shall depart hence, i am sure that all shall never meet more in this world." sir galahad at that time there entered the hall a good old man, and with him he brought a young knight, and these words he said: "peace be with you, fair lords." then the old man said unto king arthur, "sir, i bring you here a young knight that is of kings' lineage, and of the kindred of joseph of arimathea, being the son of dame elaine, the daughter of king pelles, king of the foreign country." now the name of the young knight was sir galahad, and he was the son of sir launcelot du lac; but he had dwelt with his mother, at the court of king pelles, his grandfather, till now he was old enough to bear arms, and his mother had sent him in the charge of a holy hermit to king arthur's court. then sir launcelot beheld his son, and had great joy of him. and sir bohort told his fellows, "upon my life, this young knight shall come to great worship." the noise was great in all the court, so that it came to the queen. and she said, "i would fain see him, for he must needs be a noble knight, for so is his father." and the queen and her ladies all said that he resembled much unto his father; and he was seemly and demure as a dove, with all manner of good features, that in the whole world men might not find his match. and king arthur said, "god make him a good man, for beauty faileth him not, as any that liveth." then the hermit led the young knight to the siege perilous; and he lifted up the cloth, and found there letters that said, "this is the seat of sir galahad, the good knight;" and he made him sit in that seat. and all the knights of the round table marvelled greatly at sir galahad, seeing him sit securely in that seat, and said, "this is he by whom the sangreal shall be achieved, for there never sat one before in that seat without being mischieved." on the next day the king said, "now, at this quest of the sangreal shall all ye of the round table depart, and never shall i see you again altogether; therefore i will that ye all repair to the meadow of camelot, for to just and tourney yet once more before ye depart." but all the meaning of the king was to see sir galahad proved. so then were they all assembled in the meadow. then sir galahad, by request of the king and queen, put on his harness and his helm, but shield would he take none for any prayer of the king. and the queen was in a tower, with all her ladies, to behold that tournament. then sir galahad rode into the midst of the meadow; and there he began to break spears marvellously, so that all men had wonder of him, for he surmounted all knights that encountered with him, except two, sir launcelot and sir perceval. "so many knights, that all the people cried, and almost burst the barriers in their heat, shouting 'sir galahad and sir perceval!'" --sir galahad then the king, at the queen's request, made him to alight, and presented him to the queen; and she said, "never two men resembled one another more than he and sir launcelot, and therefore it is no marvel that he is like him in prowess." then the king and the queen went to the minster, and the knights followed them. and after the service was done they put on their helms and departed, and there was great sorrow. they rode through the streets of camelot, and there was weeping of the rich and poor; and the king turned away, and might not speak for weeping. and so they departed, and every knight took the way that him best liked. sir galahad rode forth without shield, and rode four days, and found no adventure. and on the fourth day he came to a white abbey; and there he was received with great reverence, and led to a chamber. he met there two knights, king bagdemagus and sir uwaine, and they made of him great solace. "sirs," said sir galahad, "what adventure brought you hither?" "sir," said they, "it is told us that within this place is a shield, which no man may bear unless he be worthy; and if one unworthy should attempt to bear it, it shall surely do him a mischief." then king bagdemagus said, "i fear not to bear it, and that shall ye see to- morrow." so on the morrow they arose, and heard mass; then king bagdemagus asked where the adventurous shield was. anon a monk led him behind an altar, where the shield hung, as white as snow; but in the midst there was a red cross. then king bagdemagus took the shield, and bare it out of the minster; and he said to sir galahad, "if it please you, abide here till ye know how i shall speed." then king bagdemagus and his squire rode forth: and when they had ridden a mile or two, they saw a goodly knight come towards them, in white armor, horse and all; and he came as fast as his horse might run, with his spear in the rest; and king bagdemagus directed his spear against him, and broke it upon the white knight, but the other struck him so hard that he broke the mails, and thrust him through the right shoulder, for the shield covered him not, and so he bare him from his horse. then the white knight turned his horse and rode away. then the squire went to king bagdemagus, and asked him whether he were sore wounded or not. "i am sore wounded," said he, "and full hardly shall i escape death." then the squire set him on his horse, and brought him to an abbey; and there he was taken down softly, and unarmed, and laid in a bed, and his wound was looked to, for he lay there long, and hardly escaped with his life. and the squire brought the shield back to the abbey. the next day sir galahad took the shield, and within a while he came to the hermitage, where he met the white knight, and each saluted the other courteously. "sir," said sir galahad, "can you tell me the marvel of the shield?" "sir," said the white knight, "that shield belonged of old to the gentle knight, joseph of arimathea; and when he came to die he said, 'never shall man bear this shield about his neck but he shall repent it, unto the time that sir galahad the good knight bear it, the last of my lineage, the which shall do many marvellous deeds.'" and then the white knight vanished away. sir gawain after sir gawain departed, he rode many days, both toward and forward, and at last he came to the abbey where sir galahad took the white shield. and they told sir gawain of the marvellous adventure that sir galahad had done. "truly," said sir gawain, "i am not happy that i took not the way that he went, for, if i may meet with him, i will not part from him lightly, that i may partake with him all the marvellous adventures which he shall achieve." "sir," said one of the monks, "he will not be of your fellowship." "why?" said sir gawain. "sir," said he, "because ye be sinful, and he is blissful." then said the monk, "sir gawain, thou must do penance for thy sins." "sir, what penance shall i do?" "such as i will show," said the good man. "nay," said sir gawain, "i will do no penance, for we knights adventurous often suffer great woe and pain." "well," said the good man; and he held his peace. and sir gawain departed. now it happened, not long after this, that sir gawain and sir hector rode together, and they came to a castle where was a great tournament. and sir gawain and sir hector joined themselves to the party that seemed the weaker, and they drove before them the other party. then suddenly came into the lists a knight, bearing a white shield with a red cross, and by adventure he came by sir gawain, and he smote him so hard that he clave his helm and wounded his head, so that sir gawain fell to the earth. when sir hector saw that, he knew that the knight with the white shield was sir galahad, and he thought it no wisdom to abide him, and also for natural love, that he was his uncle. then sir galahad retired privily, so that none knew where he had gone. and sir hector raised up sir gawain, and said, "sir, me seemeth your quest is done." "it is done," said sir gawain; "i shall seek no further." then gawain was borne into the castle, and unarmed, and laid in a rich bed, and a leech found to search his wound. and sir gawain and sir hector abode together, for sir hector would not away till sir gawain were whole. chapter xx the sangreal (continued) sir launcelot sir launcelot rode overthwart and endlong in a wide forest, and held no path but as wild adventure lee him. "my golden spurs now bring to me, and bring to me my richest mail, for to-morrow i go over land and sea in search of the holy, holy grail shall never a bed for me be spread, nor shall a pillow be under my head, till i begin my vow to keep. here on the rushes will i sleep, and perchance there may come a vision true ere day create the world anew" --lowell's holy grail. and at last he came to a stone cross. then sir launcelot looked round him, and saw an old chapel. so he tied his horse to a tree, and put off his shield, and hung it upon a tree; and then he went into the chapel, and looked through a place where the wall was broken. and within he saw a fair altar, full richly arrayed with cloth of silk; and there stood a fair candlestick, which bare six great candles, and the candlestick was of silver. when sir launcelot saw this sight, he had a great wish to enter the chapel, but he could find no place where he might enter. then was he passing heavy and dismayed. and he returned and came again to his horse, and took off his saddle and his bridle, and let him pasture; and unlaced his helm, and ungirded his sword, and laid him down to sleep upon his shield before the cross. and as he lay, half waking and half sleeping, he saw come by him two palfreys, both fair and white, which bare a litter, on which lay a sick knight. and when he was nigh the cross, he there abode still. and sir launcelot heard him say, "o sweet lord, when shall this sorrow leave me, and when shall the holy vessel come by me whereby i shall be healed?" and thus a great while complained the knight, and sir launcelot heard it. then sir launcelot saw the candlestick, with the lighted tapers, come before the cross, but he could see nobody that brought it. also there came a salver of silver and the holy vessel of the sangreal; and therewithal the sick knight sat him upright, and held up both his hands, and said, "fair, sweet lord, which is here within the holy vessel, take heed to me, that i may be whole of this great malady." and therewith, upon his hands and upon his knees, he went so nigh that he touched the holy vessel and kissed it. and anon he was whole. then the holy vessel went into the chapel again, with the candlestick and the light, so that sir launcelot wist not what became of it. then the sick knight rose up and kissed the cross; and anon his squire brought him his arms and asked his lord how he did. "i thank god right heartily," said he, "for, through the holy vessel, i am healed. but i have great marvel of this sleeping knight, who hath had neither grace nor power to awake during the time that the holy vessel hath been here present." "i dare it right well say," said the squire, "that this same knight is stained with some manner of deadly sin, whereof he was never confessed." so they departed. then anon sir launcelot waked, and set himself upright, and bethought him of what he had seen and whether it were dreams or not. and he was passing heavy, and wist not what to do. and he said: "my sin and my wretchedness hath brought me into great dishonor. for when i sought worldly adventures and worldly desires, i ever achieved them, and had the better in every place, and never was i discomfited in any quarrel, were it right or wrong. and now i take upon me the adventure of holy things, i see and understand that mine old sin hindereth me, so that i had no power to stir nor to speak when the holy blood appeared before me." so thus he sorrowed till it was day, and heard the fowls of the air sing. then was he somewhat comforted. then he departed from the cross into the forest. and there he found a hermitage, and a hermit therein, who was going to mass. so when mass was done sir launcelot called the hermit to him, and prayed him for charity to hear his confession. "with a good will," said the good man. and then he told that good man all his life, and how he had loved a queen unmeasurably many years. "and all my great deeds of arms that i have done i did the most part for the queen's sake, and for her sake would i do battle, were it right or wrong, and never did i battle all only for god's sake, but for to win worship, and to cause me to be better beloved; and little or naught i thanked god for it. i pray you counsel me." "i will counsel you," said the hermit, "if ye will insure me that ye will never come in that queen's fellowship as much as ye may forbear." and then sir launcelot promised the hermit, by his faith, that he would no more come in her company. "look that your heart and your mouth accord," said the good man, "and i shall insure you that ye shall have more worship than ever ye had." then the good man enjoined sir launcelot such penance as he might do, and he assailed sir launcelot and made him abide with him all that day. and sir launcelot repented him greatly. sir perceval sir perceval departed and rode till the hour of noon; and he met in a valley about twenty men of arms. and when they saw sir perceval, they asked him whence he was; and he answered: "of the court of king arthur." then they cried all at once, "slay him." but sir perceval smote the first to the earth, and his horse upon him. then seven of the knights smote upon his shield all at once, and the remnant slew his horse, so that he fell to the earth. so had they slain him or taken him, had not the good knight sir galahad, with the red cross, come there by adventure. and when he saw all the knights upon one, he cried out, "save me that knight's life." then he rode toward the twenty men of arms as fast as his horse might drive, with his spear in the rest, and smote the foremost horse and man to the earth. and when his spear was broken, he set his hand to his sword, and smote on the right hand and on the left, that it was marvel to see; and at every stroke he smote down one, or put him to rebuke, so that they would fight no more, but fled to a thick forest, and sir galahad followed them. and when sir perceval saw him chase them so, he made great sorrow that his horse was slain. and he wist well it was sir galahad. then he cried aloud, "ah, fair knight, abide, and suffer me to do thanks unto thee; for right well have ye done for me." but sir galahad rode so fast that at last he passed out of his sight. when sir perceval saw that he would not turn, he said, "now am i a very wretch, and most unhappy above all other knights." so in his sorrow he abode all that day till it was night; and then he was faint, and laid him down and slept till midnight; and then he awaked and saw before him a woman, who said unto him, "sir perceval, what dost thou here?" he answered, "i do neither good, nor great ill." "if thou wilt promise me," said she, "that thou wilt fulfil my will when i summon thee, i will lend thee my own horse, which shall bear thee whither thou wilt." sir perceval was glad of her proffer, and insured her to fulfil all her desire. "then abide me here, and i will go fetch you a horse." and so she soon came again, and brought a horse with her that was inky black. when perceval beheld that horse he marvelled, it was so great and so well apparelled. and he leapt upon him and took no heed of himself. and he thrust him with his spurs, and within an hour and less he bare him four days' journey thence, until he came to a rough water, which roared, and his horse would have borne him into it. and when sir perceval came nigh the brim and saw the water so boisterous he doubted to overpass it. and then he made the sign of the cross on his forehead. when the fiend felt him so charged, he shook off sir perceval, and went into the water crying and roaring; and it seemed unto him that the water burned. then sir perceval perceived it was a fiend that would have brought him unto his perdition. then he commended himself unto god, and prayed our lord to keep him from all such temptations; and so he prayed all that night till it was day. then he saw that he was in a wild place, that was closed with the sea nigh all about. and sir perceval looked forth over the sea, and saw a ship come sailing towards him; and it came and stood still under the rock. and when sir perceval saw this, he hied him thither, and found the ship covered with silk; and therein was a lady of great beauty, and clothed so richly that none might be better. and when she saw sir perceval, she saluted him, and sir perceval returned her salutation. then he asked her of her country and her lineage. and she said, "i am a gentlewoman that am disinherited, and was once the richest woman of the world." "damsel," said sir perceval, "who hath disinherited you? for i have great pity of you." "sir," said she, "my enemy is a great and powerful lord, and aforetime he made much of me, so that of his favor and of my beauty i had a little pride more than i ought to have had. also i said a word that pleased him not. so he drove me from his company and from mine heritage. therefore i know no good knight nor good man, but i get him on my side if i may. and for that i know that thou art a good knight, i beseech thee to help me." then sir perceval promised her all the help that he might, and she thanked him. and at that time the weather was hot, and she called to her a gentlewoman, and bade her bring forth a pavilion. and she did so, and pitched it upon the gravel. "sir," said she, "now may ye rest you in this heat of the day." then he thanked her, and she put off his helm and his shield, and there he slept a great while. then he awoke, and asked her if she had any meat, and she said yea, and so there was set upon the table all manner of meats that he could think on. also he drank there the strongest wine that ever he drank, and therewith he was a little chafed more than he ought to be. with that he beheld the lady, and he thought she was the fairest creature that ever he saw. and then sir perceval proffered her love, and prayed her that she would be his. then she refused him in a manner, for the cause he should be the more ardent on her, and ever he ceased not to pray her of love. and when she saw him well enchafed, then she said, "sir perceval, wit you well i shall not give ye my love, unless you swear from henceforth you will be my true servant, and do no thing but that i shall command you. will you insure me this, as ye be a true knight?" "yea," said he, "fair lady, by the faith of my body." and as he said this, by adventure and grace, he saw his sword lie on the ground naked, in whose pommel was a red cross, and the sign of the crucifix thereon. then he made the sign of the cross on his forehead, and therewith the pavilion shrivelled up, and changed into a smoke and a black cloud. and the damsel cried aloud, and hasted into the ship, and so she went with the wind roaring and yelling that it seemed all the water burned after her. then sir perceval made great sorrow, and called himself a wretch, saying, "how nigh was i lost!" then he took his arms, and departed thence. chapter xxi the sangreal (continued) sir bohort when sir boliort departed from camelot he met with a religious man, riding upon an ass; and sir bohort saluted him. "what are ye?" said the good man. "sir," said sir bohort, "i am a knight that fain would be counselled in the quest of the sangreal." so rode they both together till they came to a hermitage; and there he prayed sir bohort to dwell that night with him. so he alighted, and put away his armor, and prayed him that he might be confessed. and they went both into the chapel, and there he was clean confessed. and they ate bread and drank water together. "now," said the good man, "i pray thee that thou eat none other till thou sit at the table where the sangreal shall be." "sir," said sir bohort, "but how know ye that i shall sit there?" "yea," said the good man, "that i know well; but there shall be few of your fellows with you." then said sir bohort, "i agree me thereto" and the good man when he had heard his confession found him in so pure a life and so stable that he marvelled thereof. on the morrow, as soon as the day appeared, sir bohort departed thence, and rode into a forest unto the hour of midday. and there befell him a marvellous adventure. for he met, at the parting of two ways, two knights that led sir lionel, his brother, all naked, bound upon a strong hackney, and his hands bound before his breast; and each of them held in his hand thorns wherewith they went beating him, so that he was all bloody before and behind; but he said never a word, but, as he was great of heart, he suffered all that they did to him as though he had felt none anguish. sir bohort prepared to rescue his brother. but he looked on the other side of him, and saw a knight dragging along a fair gentlewoman, who cried out, "saint mary! succor your maid!" and when she saw sir bohort, she called to him, and said, "by the faith that ye owe to knighthood, help me!" when sir bohort heard her say thus he had such sorrow that he wist not what to do. "for if i let my brother be he must be slain, and that would i not for all the earth; and if i help not the maid i am shamed for ever." then lift he up his eyes and said, weeping, "fair lord, whose liegeman i am, keep sir lionel, my brother, that none of these knights slay him, and for pity of you, and our lady's sake, i shall succor this maid." then he cried out to the knight, "sir knight, lay your hand off that maid, or else ye be but dead." then the knight set down the maid, and took his shield, and drew out his sword. and sir bohort smote him so hard that it went through his shield and habergeon, on the left shoulder, and he fell down to the earth. then came sir bohort to the maid, "ye be delivered of this knight this time." "now," said she, "i pray you lead me there where this knight took me." "i shall gladly do it," said sir bohort. so he took the horse of the wounded knight, and set the gentlewoman upon it, and brought her there where she desired to be. and there he found twelve knights seeking after her; and when she told them how sir bohort had delivered her, they made great joy, and besought him to come to her father, a great lord, and he should be right welcomed. "truly," said sir bohort, "that may not be; for i have a great adventure to do." so he commended them to god and departed. then sir bohort rode after sir lionel, his brother, by the trace of their horses. thus he rode seeking, a great while. then he overtook a man clothed in a religious clothing, who said, "sir knight, what seek ye?" "sir," said sir bohort, "i seek my brother, that i saw within a little space beaten of two knights." "ah, sir bohort, tiouble not thyself to seek for him, for truly he is dead." then he showed him a new-slain body, lying in a thick bush; and it seemed him that it was the body of sir lionel. and then he made such sorrow that he fell to the ground in a swoon, and lay there long. and when he came to himself again, he said, "fair brother, since the fellowship of you and me is sundered, shall i never have joy again; and now he that i have taken for my master, he be my help!" and when he had said thus he took up the body in his arms, and put it upon the horse. and then he said to the man, "canst thou tell me the way to some chapel, where i may bury this body?" "come on," said the man, "here is one fast by." and so they rode till they saw a fair tower, and beside it a chapel. then they alighted both, and put the body into a tomb of marble. then sir bohort commended the good man unto god, and departed. and he rode all that day, and harbored with an old lady. and on the morrow he rode unto the castle in a valley, and there he met with a yeoman. "tell me," said sir bohort, "knowest thou of any adventure?" "sir," said he, "here shall be, under this castle, a great and marvellous tournament." then sir bohort thought to be there, if he might meet with any of the fellowship that were in quest of the sangreal; so he turned to a hermitage that was on the border of the forest. and when he was come hither, he found there sir lionel his brother, who sat all armed at the entry of the chapel door. and when sir bohort saw him, he had great joy, and he alighted off his horse, and said. "fair brother, when came ye hither?" as soon as sir lionel saw him he said, "ah, sir bohort, make ye no false show, for, as for you, i might have been slain, for ye left me in peril of death to go succor a gentlewoman; and for that misdeed i now assure you but death, for ye have right well deserved it." when sir bohort perceived his brother's wrath he kneeled down to the earth and cried him mercy, holding up both his hands, and prayed him to forgive him. "nay," said sir lionel, "thou shalt have but death for it, if i have the upper hand; therefore leap upon thy horse and keep thyself, and if thou do not i will run upon thee there as thou standest on foot, and so the shame shall be mine, and the harm thine, but of that i reck not." when sir bohort saw that he must fight with his brother or else die, he wist not what to do. then his heart counselled him not so to do, inasmuch as sir lionel was his elder brother, wherefore he ought to bear him reverence. yet kneeled he down before sir lionel's horse's feet, and said, "fair brother, have mercy upon me and slay me not." but sir lionel cared not, for the fiend had brought him in such a will that he should slay him. when he saw that sir bohort would not rise to give him battle, he rushed over him, so that he smote him with his horse's feet to the earth, and hurt him sore, that he swooned of distress. when sir lionel saw this he alighted from his horse for to have smitten off his head; and so he took him by the helm, and would have rent it from his head. but it happened that sir colgrevance, a knight of the round table, came at that time thither, as it was our lord's will; and then he beheld how sir lionel would have slain his brother, and he knew sir bohort, whom he loved right well. then leapt he down from his horse and took sir lionel by the shoulders, and drew him strongly back from sir bohort, and said, "sir lionel, will ye slay your brother?" "why," said sir lionel, "will ye stay me? if ye interfere in this i will slay you, and him after." then he ran upon sir bohort, and would have smitten him; but sir colgrevance ran between them, and said, "if ye persist to do so any more, we two shall meddle together." then sir lionel defied him, and gave him a great stroke through the helm. then he drew his sword, for he was a passing good knight, and defended himself right manfully. so long endured the battle, that sir bohort rose up all anguishly, and beheld sir colgrevance, the good knight, fight with his brother for his quarrel. then was he full sorry and heavy, and thought that if sir colgrevance slew him that was his brother he should never have joy, and if his brother slew sir colgrevance the shame should ever be his. then would he have risen for to have parted them, but he had not so much strength to stand on his feet; so he staid so long that sir colgrevance had the worse; for sir lionel was of great chivalry and right hardy. then cried sir colgrevance, "ah, sir bohort, why come ye not to bring me out of peril of death, wherein i have put me to succor you?" with that, sir lionel smote off his helm and bore him to the earth. and when he had slain sir colgrevance he ran upon his brother as a fiendly man, and gave him such a stroke that he made him stoop. and he that was full of humility prayed him, "for god's sake leave this battle, for if it befell, fair brother, that i slew you, or ye me, we should be dead of that sin." "pray ye not me for mercy," said sir lionel. then sir bohort, all weeping, drew his sword, and said, "now god have mercy upon me, though i defend my life against my brother." with that sir bohort lifted up his sword, and would have smitten his brother. then he heard a voice that said, "flee, sir bohort, and touch him not." right so alighted a cloud between them, in the likeness of a fire and a marvellous flame, so that they both fell to the earth, and lay there a great while in a swoon. and when they came to themselves, sir bohort saw that his brother had no harm; and he was right glad, for he dread sore that god had taken vengeance upon him. then sir lionel said to his brother, "brother, forgive me, for god's sake, all that i have trespassed against you." and sir bohort answered, "god forgive it thee, and i do." with that sir bohort heard a voice say, "sir bohort, take thy way anon, right to the sea, for sir perceval abideth thee there." so sir bohort departed, and rode the nearest way to the sea. and at last he came to an abbey that was nigh the sea. that night he rested him there, and in his sleep there came a voice unto him and bade him go to the sea-shore. he started up, and made a sign of the cross on his forehead, and armed himself, and made ready his horse and mounted him, and at a broken wall he rode out, and came to the sea-shore. and there he found a ship, covered all with white samite. and he entered into the ship; but it was anon so dark that he might see no man, and he laid him down and slept till it was day. then he awaked, and saw in the middle of the ship a knight all armed, save his helm. and then he knew it was sir perceval de galis, and each made of other right great joy. then said sir perceval, "we lack nothing now but the good knight sir galahad." sir launcelot (resumed) it befell upon a night sir launcelot arrived before a castle, which was rich and fair. and there was a postern that was opened toward the sea, and was open without any keeping, save two lions kept the entry; and the moon shined clear. anon sir launcelot heard a voice that said, "launcelot, enter into the castle, where thou shalt see a great part of thy desire." so he went unto the gate, and saw the two lions; then he set hands to his sword, and drew it. then there came suddenly as it were a stroke upon the arm, so sore that the sword fell out of his hand, and he heard a voice that said, "o man of evil faith, wherefore believest thou more in thy armor than in thy maker?" then said sir launcelot, "fair lord, i thank thee of thy great mercy, that thou reprovest me of my misdeed; now see i well that thou holdest me for thy servant." then he made a cross on his forehead, and came to the lions; and they made semblance to do him harm, but he passed them without hurt, and entered into the castle, and he found no gate nor door but it was open. but at the last he found a chamber whereof the door was shut; and he set his hand thereto, to have opened it, but he might not. then he listened, and heard a voice which sung so sweetly that it seemed none earthly thing; and the voice said, "joy and honor be to the father of heaven." then sir launcelot kneeled down before the chamber, for well he wist that there was the sangreal in that chamber. then said he, "fair, sweet lord, if ever i did anything that pleased thee, for thy pity show me something of that which i seek." and with that he saw the chamber door open, and there came out a great clearness, that the house was as bright as though all the torches of the world had been there. so he came to the chamber door, and would have entered; and anon a voice said unto him, "stay, sir launcelot, and enter not." and he withdrew him back, and was right heavy in his mind. then looked he in the midst of the chamber, and saw a table of silver, and the holy vessel, covered with red samite, and many angels about it; whereof one held a candle of wax burning, and another held a cross, and the ornaments of the altar. "o, yet methought i saw the holy grail, all pall'd in crimson samite, and around great angels, awful shapes, and wings and eyes" --the holy grail. then for very wonder and thankfulness sir launcelot forgot himself and he stepped forward and entered the chamber. and suddenly a breath that seemed intermixed with fire smote him so sore in the visage that therewith he fell to the ground, and had no power to rise. then felt he many hands about him, which took him up and bare him out of the chamber, without any amending of his swoon, and left him there, seeming dead to all the people. so on the morrow, when it was fair daylight, and they within were arisen, they found sir launcelot lying before the chamber door. and they looked upon him and felt his pulse, to know if there were any life in him. and they found life in him, but he might neither stand nor stir any member that he had. so they took him and bare him into a chamber, and laid him upon a bed, far from all folk, and there he lay many days. then the one said he was alive, and the others said nay. but said an old man, "he is as full of life as the mightiest of you all, and therefore i counsel you that he be well kept till god bring him back again." and after twenty-four days he opened his eyes; and when he saw folk he made great sorrow, and said, "why have ye wakened me? for i was better at ease than i am now." "what have ye seen?" said they about him. "i have seen," said he, "great marvels that no tongue can tell, and more than any heart can think." then they said, "sir, the quest of the sangreal is achieved right now in you, and never shall ye see more of it than ye have seen." "i thank god," said sir launcelot, "of his great mercy, for that i have seen, for it sufficeth me." then he rose up and clothed himself; and when he was so arrayed they marvelled all, for they knew it was sir launcelot the good knight. and after four days he took his leave of the lord of the castle, and of all the fellowship that were there, and thanked them for their great labor and care of him. then he departed, and turned to camelot, where he found king arthur and queen guenever; but many of the knights of the round table were slain and destroyed, more than half. then all the court was passing glad of sir launcelot; and he told the king all his adventures that had befallen him since he departed. sir galahad now, when sir galahad had rescued perceval from the twenty knights, he rode into a vast forest, wherein he abode many days. then he took his way to the sea, and it befell him that he was benighted in a hermitage. and the good man was glad when he saw he was a knight-errant. and when they were at rest, there came a gentlewoman knocking at the door; and the good man came to the door to wit what she would. then she said, "i would speak with the knight which is with you." then galahad went to her, and asked her what she would. "sir galahad," said she, "i will that ye arm you, and mount upon your horse, and follow me; for i will show you the highest adventure that ever knight saw." then galahad armed himself and commended himself to god, and bade the damsel go before, and he would follow where she led. so she rode as fast as her palfrey might bear her, till she came to the sea; and there they found the ship where sir bohort and sir perceval were, who cried from the ship, "sir galahad, you are welcome; we have waited you long." and when he heard them, he asked the damsel who they were. "sir," said she, "leave your horse here, and i shall leave mine, and we will join ourselves to their company." so they entered into the ship, and the two knights received them both with great joy. for they knew the damsel, that she was sir perceval's sister. then the wind arose and drove them through the sea all that day and the next, till the ship arrived between two rocks, passing great and marvellous; but there they might not land, for there was a whirlpool; but there was another ship, and upon it they might go without danger. "go we thither," said the gentlewoman, "and there we shall see adventures, for such is our lord's will." then sir galahad blessed him, and entered therein, and then next the gentlewoman, and then sir bohort and sir perceval. and when they came on board they found there the table of silver, and the sangreal, which was covered with red samite. and they made great reverence thereto, and sir galahad prayed a long time to our lord, that at what time he should ask to pass out of this world he should do so; and a voice said to him, "galahad, thou shalt have thy request; and when thou askest the death of thy body, thou shalt have it, and then shalt thou find the life of thy soul." and anon the wind drove them across the sea, till they came to the city of sarras. then took they out of the ship the table of silver, and sir perceval and sir bohort took it before, and sir galahad came behind, and right so they went to the city. and at the gate of the city they saw an old man, a cripple. "and sir launfal said, 'i behold in thee an image of him who died on the tree thou also hast had thy crown of thorns, thou also hast had the world's buffets and scorns; and to thy life were not denied the wounds in thy hands and feet and side mild mary's son, acknowledge me; behold, through him i give to thee!'" --lowell's holy grail. then galahad called him, and bade him help to bear this heavy thing. "truly," said the old man, "it is ten years since i could not go but with crutches." "care thou not," said sir galahad, "but arise up, and show thy good will." then the old man rose up, and assayed, and found himself as whole as ever he was; and he ran to the table, and took one part with sir galahad. when they came to the city it chanced that the king was just dead, and all the city was dismayed, and wist not who might be their king. right so, as they were in counsel, there came a voice among them, and bade them choose the youngest knight of those three to be their king. so they made sir galahad king, by all the assent of the city. and when he was made king, he commanded to make a chest of gold and of precious stones to hold the holy vessel. and every day the three companions would come before it and make their prayers. now at the year's end, and the same day of the year that sir galahad received the crown, he got up early, and, with his fellows, came to where the holy vessel was; and they saw one kneeling before it that had about him a great fellowship of angels; and he called sir galahad, and said, "come, thou servant of the lord, and thou shalt see what thou hast much desired to see." and sir galahad's mortal flesh trembled right hard when he began to behold the spiritual things. then said the good man, "now wottest thou who i am?" "nay," said sir galahad. "i am joseph of arimathea, whom our lord hath sent here to thee, to bear thee fellowship." then sir galahad held up his hands toward heaven, and said, "now, blessed lord, would i not longer live, if it might please thee." and when he had said these words, sir galahad went to sir perceval and to sir bohort and kissed them, and commended them to god. and then he kneeled down before the table, and made his prayers, and suddenly his soul departed, and a great multitude of angels bare his soul up to heaven, so as the two fellows could well behold it. also they saw come from heaven a hand, but they saw not the body; and the hand came right to the vessel and bare it up to heaven. since then was there never one so hardy as to say that he had seen the sangreal on earth any more. chapter xxii sir agrivain's treason when sir perceval and sir bohort saw sir galahad dead they made as much sorrow as ever did two men. and if they had not been good men they might have fallen into despair. as soon as sir galahad was buried sir perceval retired to a hermitage out of the city, and took a religious clothing; and sir bohort was always with him, but did not change his secular clothing, because he purposed to return to the realm of loegria. thus a year and two months lived sir perceval in the hermitage a full holy life, and then passed out of this world, and sir bohort buried him by his sister and sir galahad. then sir bohort armed himself and departed from sarras, and entered into a ship, and sailed to the kingdom of loegria, and in due time arrived safe at camelot, where the king was. then was there great joy made of him in the whole court, for they feared he had been dead. then the king made great clerks to come before him, that they should chronicle of the high adventures of the good knights. and sir bohort told him of the adventures that had befallen him, and his two fellows, sir perceval and sir galahad. and sir launcelot told the adventures of the sangreal that he had seen. all this was made in great books, and put up in the church at salisbury. so king arthur and queen guenever made great joy of the remnant that were come home, and chiefly of sir launcelot and sir bohort. then sir launcelot began to resort unto queen guenever again, and forgot the promise that he made in the quest: so that many in the court spoke of it, and in especial sir agrivain, sir gawain's brother, for he was ever open-mouthed. so it happened sir gawain and all his brothers were in king arthur's chamber, and then sir agrivain said thus openly, "i marvel that we all are not ashamed to see and to know so noble a knight as king arthur so to be shamed by the conduct of sir launcelot and the queen. "then spoke sir gawain, and said, "brother, sir agrivain, i pray you and charge you move not such matters any more before me, for be ye assured i will not be of your counsel." "neither will we," said sir gaheris and sir gareth. "then will i," said sir modred. "i doubt you not," said sir gawain, "for to all mischief ever were ye prone; yet i would that ye left all this, for i know what will come of it." "modred's narrow foxy face, heart-hiding smile, and gray persistent eye: henceforward, too, the powers that tend the soul to help it from the death that cannot die, and save it even in extremes, began to vex and plague." --guinevere. "fall of it what fall may," said sir agrivain, "i will disclose it to the king." with that came to them king arthur. "now, brothers, hold your peace," said sir gawain. "we will not," said sir agrivain. then said sir gawain, "i will not hear your tales nor be of your counsel." "no more will i," said sir gareth and sir gaheris, and therewith they departed, making great sorrow. then sir agrivain told the king all that was said in the court of the conduct of sir launcelot and the queen, and it grieved the king very much. but he would not believe it to be true without proof. so sir agrivain laid a plot to entrap sir launcelot and the queen, intending to take them together unawares. sir agrivain and sir modred led a party for this purpose, but sir launcelot escaped from them, having slain sir agrivain and wounded sir modred. then sir launcelot hastened to his friends, and told them what had happened, and withdrew with them to the forest; but he left spies to bring him tidings of whatever might be done. so sir launcelot escaped, but the queen remained in the king's power, and arthur could no longer doubt of her guilt. and the law was such in those days that they who committed such crimes, of what estate or condition soever they were, must be burned to death, and so it was ordained for queen guenever. then said king arthur to sir gawain, "i pray you make you ready, in your best armor, with your brethren, sir gaheris and sir gareth, to bring my queen to the fire, there to receive her death." "nay, my most noble lord," said sir gawain, "that will i never do; for know thou well, my heart will never serve me to see her die, and it shall never be said that i was of your counsel in her death." then the king commanded sir gaheris and sir gareth to be there, and they said, "we will be there, as ye command us, sire, but in peaceable wise, and bear no armor upon us." so the queen was led forth, and her ghostly father was brought to her to shrive her, and there was weeping and wailing of many lords and ladies. and one went and told sir launcelot that the queen was led forth to her death. then sir launcelot and the knights that were with him fell upon the troop that guarded the queen, and dispersed them, and slew all who withstood them. and in the confusion sir gareth and sir gaheris were slain, for they were unarmed and defenceless. and sir launcelot carried away the queen to his castle of la joyeuse garde. then there came one to sir gawain and told him how that sir launcelot had slain the knights and carried away the queen. "o lord, defend my brethren!" said sir gawain. "truly," said the man, "sir gareth and sir gaheris are slain." "alas!" said sir gawain, "now is my joy gone." and then he fell down and swooned, and long he lay there as he had been dead. when he arose out of his swoon sir gawain ran to the king, crying, "o king arthur, mine uncle, my brothers are slain." then the king wept and he both. "my king, my lord, and mine uncle," said sir gawain, "bear witness now that i make you a promise that i shall hold by my knighthood, and from this day i will never fail sir launcelot until the one of us have slain the other. i will seek sir launcelot throughout seven kings' realms, but i shall slay him or he shall slay me." "ye shall not need to seek him," said the king, "for as i hear, sir launcelot will abide me and you in the joyeuse garde; and much people draweth unto him, as i hear say." "that may i believe," said sir gawain; "but, my lord, summon your friends, and i will summon mine." "it shall be done," said the king. so then the king sent letters and writs throughout all england, both in the length and breadth, to summon all his knights. and unto arthur drew many knights, dukes, and earls, so that he had a great host. thereof heard sir launcelot, and collected all whom he could; and many good knights held with him, both for his sake and for the queen's sake. but king arthur's host was too great for sir launcelot to abide him in the field; and he was full loath to do battle against the king. so sir launcelot drew him to his strong castle, with all manner of provisions. then came king arthur with sir gawain, and laid siege all about la joyeuse garde, both the town and the castle; but in no wise would sir launcelot ride out of his castle, neither suffer any of his knights to issue out, until many weeks were past. then it befell upon a day in harvest-time, sir launcelot looked over the wall, and spoke aloud to king arthur and sir gawain, "my lords both, all is in vain that ye do at this siege, for here ye shall win no worship, but only dishonor; for if i list to come out, and my good knights, i shall soon make an end of this war." "come forth," said arthur, "if thou darest, and i promise thee i shall meet thee in the midst of the field." "god forbid me," said sir launcelot, "that i should encounter with the most noble king that made me knight." "fie upon thy fair language," said the king, "for know thou well i am thy mortal foe, and ever will be to my dying day." and sir gawain said, "what cause hadst thou to slay my brother, sir gaheris, who bore no arms against thee, and sir gareth, whom thou madest knight, and who loved thee more than all my kin? therefore know thou well i shall make war to thee all the while that i may live." when sir bohort, and sir hector de marys, and sir lionel heard this outcry, they called to them sir palamedes, and sir saffire his brother, and sir lawayn, with many more, and all went to sir launcelot. and they said, "my lord, sir launcelot, we pray you, if you will have our service keep us no longer within these walls, for know well all your fair speech and forbearance will not avail you." "alas!" said sir launcelot, "to ride forth and to do battle i am full loath." then he spake again unto the king and sir gawain, and willed them to keep out of the battle; but they despised his words. so then sir launcelot's fellowship came out of the castle in full good array. and always sir launcelot charged all his knights, in any wise, to save king arthur and sir gawain. then came forth sir gawain from the king's host and offered combat, and sir lionel encountered with him, and there sir gawain smote sir lionel through the body, that he fell to the earth as if dead. then there began a great conflict, and much people were slain; but ever sir launcelot did what he might to save the people on king arthur's party, and ever king arthur followed sir launcelot to slay him; but sir launcelot suffered him, and would not strike again. then sir bohort encountered with king arthur, and smote him down; and he alighted and drew his sword, and said to sir launcelot, "shall i make an end of this war?" for he meant to have slain king arthur. "not so," said sir launcelot, "touch him no more, for i will never see that most noble king that made me knight either slain or shamed;" and therewith sir launcelot alighted off his horse, and took up the king, and horsed him again, and said thus: "my lord arthur, for god's love, cease this strife." and king arthur looked upon sir launcelot, and the tears burst from his eyes, thinking on the great courtesy that was in sir launcelot more than in any other man; and therewith the king rode his way. then anon both parties withdrew to repose them, and buried the dead. but the war continued, and it was noised abroad through all christendom, and at last it was told afore the pope; and he, considering the great goodness of king arthur, and of sir launcelot, called unto him a noble clerk, which was the bishop of rochester, who was then in his dominions, and sent him to king arthur, charging him that he take his queen, dame guenever, unto him again, and make peace with sir launcelot. so, by means of this bishop, peace was made for the space of one year; and king arthur received back the queen, and sir launcelot departed from the kingdom with all his knights, and went to his own country. so they shipped at cardiff, and sailed unto benwick, which some men call bayonne. and all the people of those lands came to sir launcelot, and received him home right joyfully. and sir launcelot stablished and garnished all his towns and castles, and he greatly advanced all his noble knights, sir lionel and sir bohort, and sir hector de marys, sir blamor, sir lawayne, and many others, and made them lords of lands and castles; till he left himself no more than any one of them. "then arthur made vast banquets, and strange knights from the four winds came in: and each one sat, tho' served with choice from air, land, stream and sea, oft in mid-banquet measuring with his eyes his neighbor's make and might." --pelleas and ettarre. but when the year was passed, king arthur and sir gawain came with a great host, and landed upon sir launcelot's lands, and burned and wasted all that they might overrun. then spake sir bohort and said, "my lord, sir launcelot, give us leave to meet them in the field, and we shall make them rue the time that ever they came to this country." then said sir launcelot, "i am full loath to ride out with my knights for shedding of christian blood; so we will yet a while keep our walls, and i will send a messenger unto my lord arthur, to propose a treaty; for better is peace than always war." so sir launcelot sent forth a damsel, and a dwarf with her, requiring king arthur to leave his warring upon his lands; and so she started on a palfrey, and the dwarf ran by her side. and when she came to the pavilion of king arthur, she alighted, and there met her a gentle knight, sir lucan, the butler, and said, "fair damsel, come ye from sir launcelot du lac?" "yea, sir," she said, "i come hither to speak with the king." "alas!" said sir lucan, "my lord arthur would be reconciled to sir launcelot, but sir gawain will not suffer him." and with this sir lucan led the damsel to the king, where he sat with sir gawain, to hear what she would say. so when she had told her tale, the tears ran out of the king's eyes; and all the lords were forward to advise the king to be accorded with sir launcelot, save only sir gawain; and he said, "my lord, mine uncle, what will ye do? will you now turn back, now you are so far advanced upon your journey? if ye do all the world will speak shame of you." "nay," said king arthur, "i will do as ye advise me; but do thou give the damsel her answer, for i may not speak to her for pity." then said sir gawain, "damsel, say ye to sir launcelot, that it is waste labor to sue to mine uncle for peace, and say that i, sir gawain, send him word that i promise him, by the faith i owe unto god and to knighthood, i shall never leave him till he have slain me or i him." so the damsel returned; and when sir launcelot had heard this answer the tears ran down his cheeks. then it befell on a day sir gawain came before the gates, armed at all points, and cried with a loud voice, "where art thou now, thou false traitor, sir launcelot? why hidest thou thyself within holes and walls like a coward? look out now, thou traitor knight, and i will avenge upon thy body the death of my three brethren." all this language heard sir launcelot, and the knights which were about him; and they said to him, "sir launcelot, now must ye defend you like a knight, or else be shamed for ever, for you have slept overlong and suffered overmuch." then sir launcelot spake on high unto king arthur, and said, "my lord arthur, now i have forborne long, and suffered you and sir gawain to do what ye would, and now must i needs defend myself, inasmuch as sir gawain hath appealed me of treason." then sir launcelot armed him and mounted upon his horse, and the noble knights came out of the city, and the host without stood all apart; and so the covenant was made that no man should come near the two knights, nor deal with them, till one were dead or yielded. then sir launcelot and sir gawain departed a great way asunder, and then they came together with all their horses' might, and each smote the other in the middle of their shields, but neither of them was unhorsed, but their horses fell to the earth. and then they leapt from their horses, and drew their swords, and gave many sad strokes, so that the blood burst out in many places. now sir gawain had this gift from a holy man, that every day in the year, from morning to noon, his strength was increased threefold, and then it fell again to its natural measure. sir launcelot was aware of this, and therefore, during the three hours that sir gawain's strength was at the height, sir launcelot covered himself with his shield, and kept his might in reserve. and during that time sir gawain gave him many sad brunts, that all the knights that looked on marvelled how sir launcelot might endure them. then, when it was past noon, sir gawain had only his own might; and when sir launcelot felt him so brought down he stretched himself up, and doubled his strokes, and gave sir gawain such a buffet that he fell down on his side; and sir launcelot drew back and would strike no more. "why withdrawest thou, false traitor?" then said sir gawain; "now turn again and slay me, for if thou leave me thus when i am whole again, i shall do battle with thee again." "i shall endure you, sir, by god's grace," said sir launcelot, "but know thou well sir gawain, i will never smite a felled knight." and so sir launcelot went into the city, and sir gawain was borne into king arthur's pavilion, and his wounds were looked to. thus the siege endured, and sir gawain lay helpless near a month; and when he was near recovered came tidings unto king arthur that made him return with all his host to england. chapter xxiii morte d'arthur sir modred was left ruler of all england, and he caused letters to be written, as if from beyond sea, that king arthur was slain in battle. so he called a parliament, and made himself be crowned king; and he took the queen guenever, and said plainly that he would wed her, but she escaped from him and took refuge in the tower of london. and sir modred went and laid siege about the tower of london, and made great assaults thereat, but all might not avail him. then came word to sir modred that king arthur had raised the siege of sir launcelot, and was coming home. then sir modred summoned all the barony of the land; and much people drew unto sir modred, and said they would abide with him for better and for worse; and he drew a great host to dover, for there he heard say that king arthur would arrive. "i hear the steps of modred in the west, and with him many of thy people, and knights once thine, whom thou hast loved, but grosser grown than heathen, spitting at their vows and thee" --the passing of arthur. and as sir modred was at dover with his host, came king arthur, with a great number of ships and galleys, and there was sir modred awaiting upon the landing. then was there launching of great boats and small, full of noble men of arms, and there was much slaughter of gentle knights on both parts. but king arthur was so courageous, there might no manner of knights prevent him to land, and his knights fiercely followed him; and so they landed, and put sir modred aback so that he fled, and all his people. and when the battle was done, king arthur commanded to bury his people that were dead. and then was noble sir gawain found, in a great boat, lying more than half dead. and king arthur went to him, and made sorrow out of measure. "mine uncle," said sir gawain, "know thou well my death-day is come, and all is through mine own hastiness and wilfulness, for i am smitten upon the old wound which sir launcelot gave me, of which i feel i must die. and had sir launcelot been with you as of old, this war had never begun, and of all this i am the cause." then sir gawain prayed the king to send for sir launcelot, and to cherish him above all other knights. and so at the hour of noon sir gawain yielded up his spirit, and then the king bade inter him in a chapel within dover castle; and there all men may see the skull of him, and the same wound is seen that sir launcelot gave him in battle. then was it told the king that sir modred had pitched his camp upon barrendown; and the king rode thither, and there was a great battle betwixt them, and king arthur's party stood best, and sir modred and his party fled unto canterbury. and there was a day assigned betwixt king arthur and sir modred that they should meet upon a down beside salisbury, and not far from the sea-side, to do battle yet again. and at night, as the king slept, he dreamed a wonderful dream. it seemed him verily that there came sir gawain unto him, with a number of fair ladies with him. and when king arthur saw him, he said, "welcome, my sister's son; i weened thou hadst been dead; and now i see thee alive great is my joy. but, o fair nephew, what be these ladies that hither be come with you?" "sir," said sir gawain, "all these be ladies for whom i have fought when i was a living man; and because i did battle for them in righteous quarrel they have given me grace to bring me hither unto you to warn you of your death, if ye fight to-morrow with sir modred. therefore take ye treaty, and proffer you largely for a month's delay; for within a month shall come sir launcelot and all his noble knights, and rescue you worshipfully, and slay sir modred and all that hold with him." and then sir gawain and all the ladies vanished. and anon the king called to fetch his noble lords and wise bishops unto him. and when they were come, the king told them his vision, and what sir gawain had told him. then the king sent sir lucan, the butler, and sir bedivere, with two bishops, and charged them in any wise to take a treaty for a month and a day with sir modred. so they departed, and came to sir modred; and so, at the last, sir modred was agreed to have cornwall and kent during arthur's life, and all england after his death. "sir modred; he the nearest to the king, his nephew, ever like a subtle beast lay couchant with his eyes upon the throne, ready to spring, waiting a chance." --guinevere then was it agreed that king arthur and sir modred should meet betwixt both their hosts, and each of them should bring fourteen persons, and then and there they should sign the treaty. and when king arthur and his knights were prepared to go forth, he warned all his host, "if so be ye see any sword drawn, look ye come on fiercely, and slay whomsoever withstandeth, for i in no wise trust that traitor, sir modred." in like wise sir modred warned his host. so they met, and were agreed and accorded thoroughly. and wine was brought, and they drank. right then came an adder out of a little heath-bush, and stung a knight on the foot. and when the knight felt him sting, he looked down and saw the adder, and then he drew his sword to slay the adder, and thought of no other harm. and when the host on both sides saw that sword drawn, they blew trumpets and horns, and shouted greatly. and king arthur took his horse, and rode to his party, saying, "alas, this unhappy day!" and sir modred did in like wise. and never was there a more doleful battle in christian land. and ever king arthur rode throughout the battle, and did full nobly, as a worthy king should, and sir modred that day did his devoir, and put himself in great peril. and thus they fought all the long day, till the most of all the noble knights lay dead upon the ground. then the king looked about him, and saw of all his host were left alive but two knights, sir lucan, the butler, and sir bedivere, his brother, and they were full sore wounded. then king arthur saw where sir modred leaned upon his sword among a great heap of dead men. "now give me my spear," said arthur unto sir lucan; "for yonder i espy the traitor that hast wrought all this woe." "sir, let him be," said sir lucan; "for if ye pass this unhappy day, ye shall be right well revenged upon him. remember what the sprite of sir gawain told you, and leave off now, for ye have won the field; and if ye leave off now this evil day of destiny is past." "betide me life, betide me death," said king arthur, "he shall not now escape my hands." then the king took his spear in both hands, and ran toward sir modred, crying, "traitor, now is thy death-day come." and there king arthur smote sir modred under the shield, with a thrust of his spear through the body. and when sir modred felt that he had his death-wound, with the might that he had he smote king arthur, with his sword holden in both his hands, on the side of the head, that the sword pierced the helmet and the brain-pan; and then sir modred fell stark dead upon the earth. and the noble arthur fell in a swoon to the earth. and sir lucan, the butler, and sir bedivere raised him up, and gently led him betwixt them both to a little chapel not far from the sea-side. and when the king was there he thought him well eased. then heard they people cry in the field. and sir lucan went to see what that cry betokened; and he saw by the moonlight that pillers and robbers were come to rob the dead. and he returned, and said to the king, "by my rede, it is best that we bring you to some town." "i would it were so," said the king. and when the king tried to go he fainted. then sir lucan took up the king on the one part, and sir bedivere on the other part; and in the lifting, sir lucan fell in a swoon to the earth, for he was grievously wounded. and then the noble knight's heart burst. and when the king awoke he beheld sir lucan how he lay foaming at the mouth, and speechless. "alas!" said the king, "this is to me a full heavy sight, to see this noble duke so die for my sake; for he would have holpen me that had more need of help than i, and he would not complain, his heart was so set to help me." then sir bedivere wept for his brother. "leave this mourning and weeping," said the king, "for wilt thou well, if i might live myself, the death of sir lucan would grieve me evermore; but my time hieth fast. therefore," said arthur unto sir bedivere, "take thou excalibar, my good sword, and go with it to yonder water-side; and when thou comest there i charge thee throw my sword in that water, and come again and tell me what thou there seest." "my lord," said sir bedivere, "your commandment shall be done." so sir bedivere departed, and by the way he beheld that noble sword, that the pommel and the haft were all of precious stones; and then he said to himself, "if i throw this rich sword into the water no good shall come thereof, but only harm and loss." and then sir bedivere hid excalibar under a tree. and so, as soon as he might, he came again to the king. "what sawest thou there?" said the king. "sir," he said, "i saw nothing." "alas! thou hast deceived me," said the king. "go thou lightly again, and as thou love me, spare not to throw it in." then sir bedivere went again, and took the sword in his hand to throw it; but again it beseemed him but sin and shame to throw away that noble sword, and he hid it away again, and returned, and told the king he had done his commandment. "what sawest thou there?" said the king. "sir," he said, "i saw nothing but waters deep and waves wan." "ah, traitor untrue!" said king arthur, "now hast thou betrayed me twice. and yet thou art named a noble knight, and hast been lief and dear to me. but now go again, and do as i bid thee, for thy long tarrying putteth me in jeopardy of my life." then sir bedivere went to the sword, and lightly took it up, and went to the water-side, and he bound the girdle about the hilt, and then he threw the sword as far into the water as he might. and there came an arm and a hand out of the water, and met it, and caught it, and shook it thrice and brandished it, and then vanished away the hand with the sword in the water. then sir bedivere came again to the king, and told him what he saw. "help me hence," said the king, "for i fear i have tarried too long." then sir bedivere took the king on his back, and so went with him to that water-side; and when they came there, even fast by the bank there rode a little barge with many fair ladies in it, and among them was a queen; and all had black hoods, and they wept and shrieked when they saw king arthur. "now put me in the barge," said the king. and there received him three queens with great mourning, and in one of their laps king arthur laid his head. and the queen said, "ah, dear brother, why have ye tarried so long? alas! this wound on your head hath caught over-much cold." and then they rowed from the land, and sir bedivere beheld them go from him. then he cried: "ah, my lord arthur, will ye leave me here alone among mine enemies?" "comfort thyself," said the king, "for in me is no further help; for i will to the isle of avalon, to heal me of my grievous wound." and as soon as sir bedivere had lost sight of the barge, he wept and wailed; then he took the forest, and went all that night, and in the morning he was ware of a chapel and a hermitage. then went sir bedivere thither; and when he came into the chapel, he saw where lay an hermit on the ground, near a tomb that was newly graven. "sir," said sir bedivere, "what man is there buried that ye pray so near unto?" "fair son," said the hermit, "i know not verily. but this night there came a number of ladies, and brought hither one dead, and prayed me to bury him." "alas!" said sir bedivere, "that was my lord, king arthur." then sir bedivere swooned; and when he awoke he prayed the hermit he might abide with him, to live with fasting and prayers. "ye are welcome," said the hermit. so there bode sir bedivere with the hermit; and he put on poor clothes, and served the hermit full lowly in fasting and in prayers. thus of arthur i find never more written in books that be authorized, nor more of the very certainty of his death; but thus was he led away in a ship, wherein were three queens; the one was king arthur's sister, queen morgane le fay; the other was viviane, the lady of the lake; and the third was the queen of north galis. and this tale sir bedivere, knight of the table round, made to be written. yet some men say that king arthur is not dead, but hid away into another place, and men say that he shall come again and reign over england. but many say that there is written on his tomb this verse: "hie facet arthurus, rex quondam, rexque futurus." here arthur lies, king once and king to be. and when queen guenever understood that king arthur was slain, and all the noble knights with him, she stole away, and five ladies with her; and so she went to almesbury, and made herself a nun, and ware white clothes and black, and took great penance as ever did sinful lady, and lived in fasting, prayers, and alms-deeds. and there she was abbess and ruler of the nuns. "and when she came to almesbury she spake there to the nuns, and said, 'mine enemies pursue me, but, o peaceful sisterhood, receive, and yield me sanctuary, nor ask her name to whom ye yield it, till her time to tell you;' and her beauty, grace and power wrought as a charm upon them, and they spared to ask it." --guinevere. now turn we from her, and speak of sir launcelot of the lake. when sir launcelot heard in his country that sir modred was crowned king of england, and made war against his own uncle, king arthur, then was sir launcelot wroth out of measure, and said to his kinsmen: "alas, that double traitor, sir modred! now it repenteth me that ever he escaped out of my hands." then sir launcelot and his fellows made ready in all haste, with ships and galleys, to pass into england; and so he passed over till he came to dover, and there he landed with a great army. then sir launcelot was told that king arthur was slain. "alas!" said sir launcelot, "this is the heaviest tidings that ever came to me." then he called the kings, dukes, barons, and knights, and said thus: "my fair lords, i thank you all for coming into this country with me, but we came too late, and that shall repent me while i live. but since it is so," said sir launcelot, "i will myself ride and seek my lady, queen guenever, for i have heard say she hath fled into the west; therefore ye shall abide me here fifteen days, and if i come not within that time, then take your ships and your host, and depart into your country." so sir launcelot departed and rode westerly, and there he sought many days; and at last he came to a nunnery, and was seen of queen guenever as he walked in the cloister; and when she saw him she swooned away. and when she might speak she bade him to be called to her. and when sir launcelot was brought to her she said: "sir launcelot, i require thee and beseech thee, for all the love that ever was betwixt us, that thou never see me more, but return to thy kingdom and take thee a wife, and live with her with joy and bliss; and pray for me to my lord, that i may get my soul's health." "nay, madam," said sir launcelot, "wit you well that i shall never do; but the same destiny that ye have taken you to will i take me unto, for to please and serve god." and so they parted, with tears and much lamentation; and the ladies bare the queen to her chamber, and sir launcelot took his horse and rode away, weeping. and at last sir launcelot was ware of a hermitage and a chapel, and then he heard a little bell ring to mass; and thither he rode and alighted, and tied his horse to the gate, and heard mass. and he that sang the mass was the hermit with whom sir bedivere had taken up his abode; and sir bedivere knew sir launcelot, and they spake together after mass. but when sir bedivere had told his tale, sir launcelot's heart almost burst for sorrow. then he kneeled down, and prayed the hermit to shrive him, and besought that he might be his brother. then the hermit said, "i will gladly;" and then he put a habit upon sir launcelot, and there he served god day and night, with prayers and fastings. and the great host abode at dover till the end of the fifteen days set by sir launcelot, and then sir bohort made them to go home again to their own country; and sir bohort, sir hector de marys, sir blamor, and many others, took on them to ride through all england to seek sir launcelot. so sir bohort by fortune rode until he came to the same chapel where sir launcelot was; and when he saw sir launcelot in that manner of clothing he, prayed the hermit that he might be in that same. and so there was an habit put upon him, and there he lived in prayers and fasting. and within half a year came others of the knights, their fellows, and took such a habit as sir launcelot and sir bohort had. thus they endured in great penance six years. and upon a night there came a vision to sir launcelot, and charged him to haste toward almesbury, and "by the time thou come there, thou shalt find queen guenever dead." then sir launcelot rose up early and told the hermit thereof. then said the hermit, "it were well that ye disobey not this vision." and sir launcelot took his seven companions with him, and on foot they went from glastonbury to almesbury, which is more than thirty miles. and when they were come to almesbury, they found that queen guenever died but half an hour before. then sir launcelot saw her visage, but he wept not greatly, but sighed. and so he did all the observance of the service himself, both the "dirige" at night, and at morn he sang mass. and there was prepared an horse-bier, and sir launcelot and his fellows followed the bier on foot from almesbury until they came to glastonbury; and she was wrapped in cered clothes, and laid in a coffin of marble. and when she was put in the earth sir launcelot swooned, and lay long as one dead. and sir launcelot never after ate but little meat, nor drank; but continually mourned. and within six weeks sir launcelot fell sick; and he sent for the hermit and all his true fellows, and said, "sir hermit, i pray you give me all my rights that a christian man ought to have." "it shall not need," said the hermit and all his fellows; "it is but heaviness of your blood, and to-morrow morn you shall be well" "my fair lords," said sir launcelot, "my careful body will into the earth; i have warning more than now i will say; therefore give me my rights." so when he was houseled and aneled, and had all that a christian man ought to have, he prayed the hermit that his fellows might bear his body to joyous garde. (some men say it was alnwick, and some say it was bamborough.) "it repenteth me sore," said sir launcelot, "but i made a vow aforetime that in joyous garde i would be buried." then there was weeping and wringing of hands among his fellows. and that night sir launcelot died; and when sir bohort and his fellows came to his bedside the next morning they found him stark dead; and he lay as if he had smiled, and the sweetest savor all about him that ever they knew. and they put sir launcelot into the same horse-bier that queen guenever was laid in, and the hermit and they altogether went with the body till they came to joyous garde. and there they laid his corpse in the body of the quire, and sang and read many psalms and prayers over him. and ever his visage was laid open and naked, that all folks might behold him. and right thus, as they were at their service, there came sir hector de maris, that had seven years sought sir launcelot, his brother, through all england, scotland and wales. and when sir hector heard such sounds in the chapel of joyous garde he alighted and came into the quire. and all they knew sir hector. then went sir bohort, and told him how there lay sir launcelot, his brother, dead. then sir hector threw his shield, his sword, and helm from him. and when he beheld sir launcelot's visage it were hard for any tongue to tell the doleful complaints he made for his brother. "ah, sir launcelot!" he said, "there thou liest. and now i dare to say thou wert never matched of none earthly knight's hand. and thou wert the courteousest knight that ever bare shield; and thou wert the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrode horse; and thou wert the truest lover, of a sinful man, that ever loved woman; and thou wert the kindest man that ever struck with sword. and thou wert the goodliest person that ever came among press of knights. and thou wert the meekest man, and the gentlest, that ever ate in hall among ladies. and thou wert the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that ever put spear in the rest." then there was weeping and dolor out of measure. thus they kept sir launcelot's corpse fifteen days, and then they buried it with great devotion. then they went back with the hermit to his hermitage. and sir bedivere was there ever still hermit to his life's end. and sir bohort, sir hector, sir blamor, and sir bleoberis went into the holy land. and these four knights did many battles upon the miscreants, the turks; and there they died upon a good friday, as it pleased god. thus endeth this noble and joyous book, entitled "la morte d'arthur;" notwithstanding it treateth of the birth, life, and acts of the said king arthur, and of his noble knights of the round table, their marvellous enquests and adventures, the achieving of the sangreal, and, in the end, le morte d'arthur, with the dolorous death and departing out of this world of them all. which book was reduced into english by sir thomas mallory, knight, and divided into twenty-one books, chaptered and imprinted and finished in the abbey westmestre, the last day of july, the year of our lord mcccclxxxv. caxton me fieri fecit. the mabinogeon introductory note it has been well known to the literati and antiquarians of europe that there exist in the great public libraries voluminous manuscripts of romances and tales once popular, but which on the invention of printing had already become antiquated, and fallen into neglect. they were therefore never printed, and seldom perused even by the learned, until about half a century ago, when attention was again directed to them, and they were found very curious monuments of ancient manners, habits, and modes of thinking. several have since been edited, some by individuals, as sir walter scott and the poet southey, others by antiquarian societies. the class of readers which could be counted on for such publications was so small that no inducement of profit could be found to tempt editors and publishers to give them to the world. it was therefore only a few, and those the most accessible, which were put in print. there was a class of manuscripts of this kind which were known, or rather suspected, to be both curious and valuable, but which it seemed almost hopeless to expect ever to see in fair printed english. these were the welsh popular tales called mabinogeon, a plural word, the singular being mabinogi, a tale. manuscripts of these were contained in the bodleian library at oxford and elsewhere, but the difficulty was to find translators and editors. the welsh is a spoken language among the peasantry of wales, but is entirely neglected by the learned, unless they are natives of the principality. of the few welsh scholars none were found who took sufficient interest in this branch of learning to give these productions to the english public. southey and scott, and others, who like them, loved the old romantic legends of their country, often urged upon the welsh literati the duty of reproducing the mabinogeon. southey, in the preface of his edition of "moted'arthur," says: "the specimens which i have seen are exceedingly curious; nor is there a greater desideratum in british literature than an edition of these tales, with a literal version, and such comments as mr. davies of all men is best qualified to give. certain it is that many of the round table fictions originated in wales, or in bretagne, and probably might still be traced there." again, in a letter to sir charles w. w. wynn, dated , he says: "i begin almost to despair of ever seeing more of the mabinogeon; and yet if some competent welshman could be found to edit it carefully, with as literal a version as possible, i am sure it might be made worth his while by a subscription, printing a small edition at a high price, perhaps two hundred at five guineas. i myself would gladly subscribe at that price per volume for such an edition of the whole of your genuine remains in prose and verse. till some such collection is made, the 'gentlemen of wales' ought to be prohibited from wearing a leek; ay, and interdicted from toasted cheese also. your bards would have met with better usage if they had been scotchmen." sharon turner and sir walter scott also expressed a similar wish for the publication of the welsh manuscripts. the former took part in an attempt to effect it, through the instrumentality of a mr. owen, a welshman, but, we judge, by what southey says of him, imperfectly acquainted with english. southey's language is "william owen lent me three parts of the mabinogeon, delightfully translated into so welsh an idiom and syntax that such a translation is as instructive as an original." in another letter he adds, "let sharon make his language grammatical, but not alter their idiom in the slightest point." it is probable mr. owen did not proceed far in an undertaking which, so executed, could expect but little popular patronage. it was not till an individual should appear possessed of the requisite knowledge of the two languages, of enthusiasm sufficient for the task, and of pecuniary resources sufficient to be independent of the booksellers and of the reading public, that such a work could be confidently expected. such an individual has, since southey's day and scott's, appeared in the person of lady charlotte guest, an english lady united to a gentleman of property in wales, who, having acquired the language of the principality, and become enthusiastically fond of its literary treasures, has given them to the english reader, in a dress which the printer's and the engraver's arts have done their best to adorn. in four royal octavo volumes containing the welsh originals, the translation, and ample illustrations from french, german, and other contemporary and affiliated literature, the mabinogeon is spread before us. to the antiquarian and the student of language and ethnology an invaluable treasure, it yet can hardly in such a form win its way to popular acquaintance. we claim no other merit than that of bringing it to the knowledge of our readers, of abridging its details, of selecting its most attractive portions, and of faithfully preserving throughout the style in which lady guest has clothed her legends. for this service we hope that our readers will confess we have laid them under no light obligation. chapter i the britons the earliest inhabitants of britain are supposed to have been a branch of that great family known in history by the designation of celts. cambria, which is a frequent name for wales, is thought to be derived from cymri, the name which the welsh traditions apply to an immigrant people who entered the island from the adjacent continent. this name is thought to be identical with those of cimmerians and cimbri, under which the greek and roman historians describe a barbarous people, who spread themselves from the north of the euxine over the whole of northwestern europe. the origin of the names wales and welsh has been much canvassed. some writers make them a derivation from gael or gaul, which names are said to signify "woodlanders;" others observe that walsh, in the northern languages, signifies a stranger, and that the aboriginal britons were so called by those who at a later era invaded the island and possessed the greater part of it, the saxons and angles. the romans held britain from the invasion of julius caesar till their voluntary withdrawal from the island, a.d. ,--that is, about five hundred years. in that time there must have been a wide diffusion of their arts and institutions among the natives. the remains of roads, cities, and fortifications show that they did much to develop and improve the country, while those of their villas and castles prove that many of the settlers possessed wealth and taste for the ornamental arts. yet the roman sway was sustained chiefly by force, and never extended over the entire island. the northern portion, now scotland, remained independent, and the western portion, constituting wales and cornwall, was only nominally subjected. neither did the later invading hordes succeed in subduing the remoter sections of the island. for ages after the arrival of the saxons under hengist and horsa, a.d. , the whole western coast of britain was possessed by the aboriginal inhabitants, engaged in constant warfare with the invaders. it has, therefore, been a favorite boast of the people of wales and cornwall that the original british stock flourishes in its unmixed purity only among them. we see this notion flashing out in poetry occasionally, as when gray, in "the bard," prophetically describing queen elizabeth, who was of the tudor, a welsh race, says: "her eye proclaims her of the briton line;" and, contrasting the princes of the tudor with those of the norman race, he exclaims: "all hail, ye genuine kings, britannia's issue, hail!" the welsh language and literature the welsh language is one of the oldest in europe. it possesses poems the origin of which is referred with probability to the sixth century. the language of some of these is so antiquated that the best scholars differ about the interpretation of many passages; but, generally speaking, the body of poetry which the welsh possess, from the year downwards, is intelligible to those who are acquainted with the modern language. till within the last half-century these compositions remained buried in the libraries of colleges or of individuals, and so difficult of access that no successful attempt was made to give them to the world. this reproach was removed after ineffectual appeals to the patriotism of the gentry of wales, by owen jones, a furrier of london, who at his own expense collected and published the chief productions of welsh literature, under the title of the myvyrian archaeology of wales. in this task he was assisted by dr. owen and other welsh scholars. after the cessation of jones' exertions the old apathy returned, and continued till within a few years. dr. owen exerted himself to obtain support for the publication of the mabinogeon or prose tales of the welsh, but died without accomplishing his purpose, which has since been carried into execution by lady charlotte guest. the legends which fill the remainder of this volume are taken from this work, of which we have already spoken more fully in the introductory chapter to the first part. the welsh bards the authors to whom the oldest welsh poems are attributed are aneurin, who is supposed to have lived a.d. to , and taliesin, llywarch hen (llywarch the aged), and myrddin or merlin, who were a few years later. the authenticity of the poems which bear their names has been assailed, and it is still an open question how many and which of them are authentic, though it is hardly to be doubted that some are so. the poem of aneurin entitled the "gododin" bears very strong marks of authenticity. aneurin was one of the northern britons of strath-clyde, who have left to that part of the district they inhabited the name of cumberland, or land of the cymri. in this poem he laments the defeat of his countrymen by the saxons at the battle of cattraeth, in consequence of having partaken too freely of the mead before joining in combat. the bard himself and two of his fellow-warriors were all who escaped from the field. a portion of this poem has been translated by gray, of which the following is an extract: "to cattraeth's vale, in glittering row, twice two hundred warriors go; every warrior's manly neck chains of regal honor deck, wreathed in many a golden link; from the golden cup they drink nectar that the bees produce, or the grape's exalted juice. flushed with mirth and hope they burn, but none to cattraeth's vale return, save aeron brave, and conan strong, bursting through the bloody throng, and i, the meanest of them all, that live to weep, and sing their fall." the works of taliesin are of much more questionable authenticity. there is a story of the adventures of taliesin so strongly marked with mythical traits as to cast suspicion on the writings attributed to him. this story will be found in the subsequent pages. the triads the triads are a peculiar species of poetical composition, of which the welsh bards have left numerous examples. they are enumerations of a triad of persons, or events, or observations, strung together in one short sentence. this form of composition, originally invented, in all likelihood, to assist the memory, has been raised by the welsh to a degree of elegance of which it hardly at first sight appears susceptible. the triads are of all ages, some of them probably as old as anything in the language. short as they are individually, the collection in the myvyrian archaeology occupies more than one hundred and seventy pages of double columns. we will give some specimens, beginning with personal triads, and giving the first place to one of king arthur's own composition: "i have three heroes in battle: mael the tall, and llyr, with his army, and caradoc, the pillar of wales." "the three principal bards of the island of britain:-- merlin ambrose merlin the son of mprfyn, called also merlin the wild, and taliesin, the chief of the bards." "the three golden-tongued knights of the court of arthur:-- gawain, son of gwyar, drydvas, son of tryphin, and ehwlod, son of madag, ap uther." "the three honorable feasts of the island of britain:-- the feast of caswallaun, after repelling julius caesar from this isle; the feast of aurelius ambrosius, after he had conquered the saxons; and the feast of king arthur, at carleon upon usk." "guenever, the daughter of laodegan the giant, bad when little, worse when great." next follow some moral triads: "hast thou heard what dremhidydd sung, an ancient watchman on the castle walls? a refusal is better than a promise unperformed." "hast thou heard what llenleawg sung, the noble chief wearing the golden torques? the grave is better than a life of want." "hast thou heard what garselit sung, the irishman whom it is safe to follow? sin is bad, if long pursued." "hast thou heard what avaon sung, the son of taliesin, of the recording verse? the cheek will not conceal the anguish of the heart." "didst thou hear what llywarch sung, the intrepid and brave old man? greet kindly, though there be no acquaintance." chapter ii the lady of the fountain kynon's adventure king arthur was at caerleon upon usk; and one day he sat in his chamber, and with him were owain, the son of urien, and kynon, the son of clydno, and kay, the son of kyner, and guenever and her handmaidens at needlework by the window. in the centre of the chamher king arthur sat, upon a seat of green rushes, [footnote: the use of green rushes in apartments was by no means peculiar to the court of carleon upon usk. our ancestors had a great predilection for them, and they seem to have constituted an essential article, not only of comfort, but of luxury. the custom of strewing the floor with rushes is well known to have existed in england during the middle ages, and also in france.] over which was spread a covering of flame-covered satin, and a cushion of red satin was under his elbow. then arthur spoke. "if i thought you would not disparage me," said he, "i would sleep while i wait for my repast; and you can entertain one another with relating tales, and can obtain a flagon of mead and some meat from kay." and the king went to sleep. and kynon the son of clydno asked kay for that which arthur had promised them. "i too will have the good tale which he promised me," said kay. "nay," answered kynon; "fairer will it be for thee to fulfil arthur's behest in the first place, and then we will tell thee the best tale that we know." so kay went to the kitchen and to the mead-cellar, and returned, bearing a flagon of mead, and a golden goblet, and a handful of skewers, upon which were broiled collops of meat. then they ate the collops, and began to drink the mead. "now," said kay, "it is time for you to give me my story." "kynon," said owain, "do thou pay to kay the tale that is his due." "i will do so," answered kynon. "i was the only son of my mother and father, and i was exceedingly aspiring, and my daring was very great. i thought there was no enterprise in the world too mighty for me: and after i had achieved all the adventures that were in my own country, i equipped myself, and set forth to journey through deserts and distant regions. and at length it chanced that i came to the fairest valley in the world, wherein were trees all of equal growth; and a river ran through the valley, and a path was by the side of the river. and i followed the path until midday, and continued my journey along the remainder of the valley until the evening; and at the extremity of the plain i came to a large and lustrous castle, at the foot of which was a torrent. and i approached the castle, and there i beheld two youths with yellow curling hair, each with a frontlet of gold upon his head, and clad in a garment of yellow satin; and they had gold clasps upon their insteps. in the hand of each of them was an ivory bow, strung with the sinews of the stag, and their arrows and their shafts were of the bone of the whale, and were winged with peacock's feathers. the shafts also had golden heads. and they had daggers with blades of gold, and with hilts of the bone of the whale. and they were shooting at a mark. "and a little away from them i saw a man in the prime of life, with his beard newly shorn, clad in a robe and mantle of yellow satin, and round the top of his mantle was a band of gold lace. on his feet were shoes of variegated leather, [footnote: cordwal is the word in the original, and from the manner in which it is used it is evidently intended for the french cordouan or cordovan leather, which derived its name from cordova, where it was manufactured. from this comes also our english word cordwainer.] fastened by two bosses of gold. when i saw him i went towards him and saluted him; and such was his courtesy, that he no sooner received my greeting than he returned it. and he went with me towards the castle. now there were no dwellers in the castle, except those who were in one hall. and there i saw four and twenty damsels, embroidering satin at a window. and this i tell thee, kay, that the least fair of them was fairer than the fairest maid thou didst ever behold in the island of britain; and the least lovely of them was more lovely than guenever, the wife of arthur, when she appeared loveliest, at the feast of easter. they rose up at my coming, and six of them took my horse, and divested me of my armor, and six others took my arms and washed them in a vessel till they were perfectly bright. and the third six spread cloths upon the tables and prepared meat. and the fourth six took off my soiled garments and placed others upon me, namely, an under vest and a doublet of fine linen, and a robe and a surcoat, and a mantle of yellow satin, with a broad gold band upon the mantle. and they placed cushions both beneath and around me, with coverings of red linen, and i sat down. now the six maidens who had taken my horse unharnessed him as well as if they had been the best squires in the island of britain. "then behold they brought bowls of silver, wherein was water to wash and towels of linen, some green and some white; and i washed. and in a little while the man sat down at the table. and i sat next to him, and below me sat all the maidens, except those who waited on us. and the table was of silver, and the cloths upon the table were of linen. and no vessel was served upon the table that was not either of gold or of silver or of buffalo horn. and our meat was brought to us. and verily, kay, i saw there every sort of meat, and every sort of liquor that i ever saw elsewhere; but the meat and the liquor were better served there than i ever saw them in any other place. "until the repast was half over, neither the man nor any one of the damsels spoke a single word to me; but when the man perceived that it would be more agreeable for me to converse than to eat any more, he began to inquire of me who i was. then i told the man who i was and what was the cause of my journey, and said that i was seeking whether any one was superior to me, or whether i could gain mastery over all. the man looked upon me, and he smiled and said, 'if i did not fear to do thee a mischief, i would show thee that which thou seekest.' then i desired him to speak freely. and he said: 'sleep here to-night, and in the morning arise early, and take the road upwards through the valley, until thou readiest the wood. a little way within the wood thou wilt come to a large sheltered glade, with a mound in the centre. and thou wilt see a black man of great stature on the top of the mound. he has but one foot, and one eye in the middle of his forehead. he is the wood- ward of that wood. and thou wilt see a thousand wild animals grazing around him. inquire of him the way out of the glade, and he will reply to thee briefly, and will point out the road by which thou shalt find that which thou art in quest of.' "and long seemed that night to me. and the next morning i arose and equipped myself, and mounted my horse, and proceeded straight through the valley to the wood, and at length i arrived at the glade. and the black man was there, sitting upon the top of the mound; and i was three times more astonished at the number of wild animals that i beheld than the man had said i should be. then i inquired of him the way and he asked me roughly whither i would go. and when i had told him who i was and what i sought, 'take,' said he, 'that path that leads toward the head of the glade, and there thou wilt find an open space like to a large valley, and in the midst of it a tall tree. under this tree is a fountain, and by the side of the fountain a marble slab, and on the marble slab a silver bowl, attached by a chain of silver, that it may not be carried away. take, the bowl and throw a bowlful of water on the slab. and if thou dost not find trouble in that adventure, thou needest not seek it during the rest of thy life.' "so i journeyed on until i reached the summit of the steep. and there i found everything as the black man had described it to me. and i went up to the tree, and beneath it i saw the fountain, and by its side the marble slab, and the silver bowl fastened by the chain. then i took the bowl, and cast a bowlful of water upon the slab, and immediately i heard a mighty peal of thunder, so that heaven and earth seemed to tremble with its fury. and after the thunder came a, shower; and of a truth i tell thee, kay, that it was such a shower as neither man nor beast could endure and live. i turned my horse's flank toward the shower, and placed the beak of my shield over his head and neck, while i held the upper part of it over my own neck. and thus i withstood the shower. and presently the sky became clear, and with that, behold, the birds lighted upon the tree, and sang. and truly, kay, i never heard any melody equal to that, either before or since. and when i was most charmed with listening to the birds, lo! a chiding voice was heard of one approaching me and saying: 'o knight, what has brought thee hither? what evil have i done to thee that thou shouldst act towards me and my possessions as thou hast this day? dost thou not know that the shower to-day has left in my dominions neither man nor beast alive that was exposed to it?' and thereupon, behold, a knight on a black horse appeared, clothed in jet-black velvet, and with a tabard of black linen about him. and we charged each other, and, as the onset was furious, it was not long before i was overthrown. then the knight passed the shaft of his lance through the bridle-rein of my horse, and rode off with the two horses, leaving me where i was. and he did not even bestow so much notice upon me as to imprison me, nor did he despoil me of my arms. so i returned along the road by which i had come. and when i reached the glade where the black man was, i confess to thee, kay, it is a marvel that i did not melt down into a liquid pool, through the shame that i felt at the black man's derision. and that night i came to the same castle where i had spent the night preceding. and i was more agreeably entertained that night than i had been the night before. and i conversed freely with the inmates of the castle; and none of them alluded to my expedition to the fountain, neither did i mention it to any. and i remained there that night. when i arose on the morrow i found ready saddled a dark bay palfrey, with nostrils as red as scarlet. and after putting on my armor, and leaving there my blessing, i returned to my own court. and that horse i still possess, and he is in the stable yonder. and i declare that i would not part with him for the best palfrey in the island of britain. "now, of a truth, kay, no man ever before confessed to an adventure so much to his own discredit; and verily it seems strange to me that neither before nor since have i heard of any person who knew of this adventure, and that the subject of it should exist within king arthur's dominions without any other person lighting upon it." chapter iii the lady of the fountain (continued) owain's adventure [footnote: amongst all the characters of early british history none is the more interesting, or occupies more conspicuous place, than the hero of this tale. urien, his father, was prince of rheged, a district comprising the present cumberland and part of the adjacent country. his valor, and the consideration in which he was held, are a frequent theme of bardic song, and form the subject of several very spirited odes by taliesin. among the triads there is one relating to him; it is thus translated: "three knights of battle were in court of arthur cadwr, the earl of cornwall, launcelot du lac, and owain, the son of urien. and this was their characteristic--that they would not retreat from battle, neither for spear, nor for arrow, nor for sword. and arthur never had shame in battle the day he saw their faces there. and they were called the knights of battle."] "now," quoth owain, "would it not be well to go and endeavor to discover that place?" "by the hand of my friend," said kay, "often dost thou utter that with thy tongue which thou wouldest not make good with thy deeds." "in very truth," said guenever, "it were better thou wert hanged, kay, than to use such uncourteous speech towards a man like owain." "by the hand of my friend, good lady," said kay, "thy praise of owain is not greater than mine." with that arthur awoke, and asked if he had not been sleeping a little. "yes, lord," answered owain, "thou hast slept awhile." "is it time for us to go to meat?" "it is, lord," said owain. then the horn for washing was sounded, and the king and all his household sat down to eat. and when the meal was ended owain withdrew to his lodging, and made ready his horse and his arms. on the morrow with the dawn of day he put on his armor, and mounted his charger, and travelled through distant lands, and over desert mountains. and at length he arrived at the valley which kynon had described to him, and he was certain that it was the same that he sought. and journeying along the valley, by the side of the river, he followed its course till he came to the plain, and within sight of the castle. when he approached the castle he saw the youths shooting with their bows, in the place where kynon had seen them, and the yellow man, to whom the castle belonged, standing hard by. and no sooner had owain saluted the yellow man, than he was saluted by him in return. and he went forward towards the castle, and there he saw the chamber; and when he had entered the chamber, he beheld the maidens working at satin embroidery, in chains of gold. and their beauty and their comeliness seemed to owain far greater than kynon had represented to him. and they arose to wait upon owain, as they had done to kynon. and the meal which they set before him gave even more satisfaction to owain than it had done to kynon. about the middle of the repast the yellow man asked owain the object of his journey. and owain made it known to him, and said, "i am in quest of the knight who guards the fountain." upon this the yellow man smiled, and said that he was as loth to point out that adventure to him as he had been to kynon. however, he described the whole to owain, and they retired to rest. the next morning owain found his horse made ready for him by the damsels, and he set forward and came to the glade where the black man was. and the stature of the black man seemed more wonderful to owain than it had done to kynon; and owain asked of him his road, and he showed it to him. and owain followed the road till he came to the green tree; and he beheld the fountain, and the slab beside the fountain, with the bowl upon it. and owain took the bowl and threw a bowlful of water upon the slab. and, lo! the thunder was heard, and after the thunder came the shower, more violent than kynon had described, and after the shower the sky became bright. and immediately the birds came and settled upon the tree and sang. and when their song was most pleasing to owain he beheld a knight coming towards him through the valley; and he prepared to receive him, and encountered him violently. having broken both their lances, they drew their swords and fought blade to blade. then owain struck the knight a blow through his helmet, head-piece, and visor, and through the skin, and the flesh, and the bone, until it wounded the very brain. then the black knight felt that he had received a mortal wound, upon which he turned his horse's head and fled. and owain pursued him and followed close upon him, although he was not near enough to strike him with his sword. then owain descried a vast and resplendent castle; and they came to the castle gate. and the black knight was allowed to enter, and the portcullis was let fall upon owain; and it struck his horse behind the saddle, and cut him in two, and carried away the rowels of the spurs that were upon owains' heels. and the portcullis descended to the floor. and the rowels of the spurs and part of the horse were without, and owain with the other part of the horse remained between the two gates, and the inner gate was closed, so that owain could not go thence; and owain was in a perplexing situation. and while he was in this state, he could see through an aperture in the gate a street facing him, with a row of houses on each side. and he beheld a maiden, with yellow, curling hair, and a frontlet of gold upon her head; and she was clad in a dress of yellow satin, and on her feet were shoes of variegated leather. and she approached the gate, and desired that it should be opened. "heaven knows, lady," said owain, "it is no more possible for me to open to thee from hence, than it is for thee to set me free." and he told her his name, and who he was. "truly," said the damsel, "it is very sad that thou canst not be released; and every woman ought to succor thee, for i know there is no one more faithful in the service of ladies than thou. therefore," quoth she, "whatever is in my power to do for thy release, i will do it. take this ring and put it on thy finger, with the stone inside thy hand, and close thy hand upon the stone. and as long as thou concealest it, it will conceal thee. when they come forth to fetch thee, they will be much grieved that they cannot find thee. and i will await thee on the horseblock yonder, and thou wilt be able to see me, though i cannot see thee. therefore come and place thy hand upon my shoulder, that i may know that thou art near me. and by the way that i go hence do thou accompany me." then the maiden went away from owain, and he did all that she had told him. and the people of the castle came to seek owain to put him to death; and when they found nothing but the half of his horse, they were sorely grieved. and owain vanished from among them, and went to the maiden, and placed his hand upon her shoulder; whereupon she set off, and owain followed her, until they came to the door of a large and beautiful chamber, and the maiden opened it, and they went in. and owain looked around the chamber, and behold there was not a single nail in it that was not painted with gorgeous colors, and there was not a single panel that had not sundry images in gold portrayed upon it. the maiden kindled a fire, and took water in a silver bowl, and gave owain water to wash. then she placed before him a silver table, inlaid with gold; upon which was a cloth of yellow linen, and she brought him food. and, of a truth, owain never saw any kind of meat that was not there in abundance, but it was better cooked there than he had ever found it in any other place. and there was not one vessel from which he was served that was not of gold or of silver. and owain eat and drank until late in the afternoon, when lo! they heard a mighty clamor in the castle, and owain asked the maiden what it was. "they are administering extreme unction," said she, "to the nobleman who owns the castle." and she prepared a couch for owain which was meet for arthur himself, and owain went to sleep. and a little after daybreak he heard an exceeding loud clamor and wailing, and he asked the maiden what was the cause of it. "they are bearing to the church the body of the nobleman who owned the castle." and owain rose up, and clothed himself, and opened a window of the chamber, and looked towards the castle; and he could see neither the bounds nor the extent of the hosts that filled the streets. and they were fully armed; and a vast number of women were with them, both on horseback and on foot, and all the ecclesiastics in the city singing. in the midst of the throng he beheld the bier, over which was a veil of white linen; and wax tapers were burning beside and around it; and none that supported the bier was lower in rank than a powerful baron. never did owain see an assemblage so gorgeous with silk [footnote: before the sixth century all the silk used by europeans had been brought to them by the seres, the ancestors of the present boukharians, whence it derived its latin name of serica. in the silkworm was brought by two monks to constantinople, but the manufacture of silk was confined to the greek empire till the year , when roger, king of sicily, returning from a crusade, collected some manufacturers from athens and corinth, and established them at palermo, whence the trade was gradually disseminated over italy. the varieties of silk stuffs known at this time were velvet, satin (which was called samite), and taffety (called cendal or sendall), all of which were occasionally stitched with gold and silver.] and satin. and, following the train, he beheld a lady with yellow hair falling over her shoulders, and stained with blood; and about her a dress of yellow satin, which was torn. upon her feet were shoes of variegated leather. and it was a marvel that the ends of her fingers were not bruised from the violence with which she smote her hands together. truly she would have been the fairest lady owain ever saw, had she been in her usual guise. and her cry was louder than the shout of the men or the clamor of the trumpets. no sooner had he beheld the lady than he became inflamed with her love, so that it took entire possession of him. then he inquired of the maiden who the lady was. "heaven knows," replied the maiden, "she is the fairest and the most chaste, and the most liberal, and the most noble of women. she is my mistress, and she is called the countess of the fountain, the wife of him whom thou didst slay yesterday." "verily," said owain, "she is the woman that i love best." "verily," said the maiden, "she shall also love thee, not a little." then the maiden prepared a repast for owain, and truly he thought he had never before so good a meal, nor was he ever so well served. then she left him, and went towards the castle. when she came there, she found nothing but mourning and sorrow; and the countess in her chamber could not bear the sight of any one through grief. luned, for that was the name of the maiden, saluted her, but the countess answered her not. and the maiden bent down towards her, and said, "what aileth thee, that thou answereth no one to-day?" "luned," said the countess, "what change hath befallen thee, that thou hast not come to visit me in my grief. it was wrong in thee, and i so sorely afflicted." "truly," said luned, "i thought thy good sense was greater than i find it to be. is it well for thee to mourn after that good man, or for anything else that thou canst not have?" "i declare to heaven," said the countess, "that in the whole world there is not a man equal to him." "not so," said luned, "for an ugly man would be as good as or better than he." "i declare to heaven," said the countess, "that were it not repugnant to me to put to death one whom i have brought up, i would have thee executed for making such a comparison to me. as it is, i will banish thee." "i am glad," said luned, "that thou hast no other cause to do so than that i would have been of service to thee, where thou didst not know what was to thine advantage. henceforth, evil betide whichever of us shall make the first advance towards reconciliation to the other, whether i should seek an invitation from thee, or thou of thine own accord should send to invite." with that luned went forth; and the countess arose and followed her to the door of the chamber, and began coughing loudly. and when luned looked back, the countess beckoned to her, and she returned to the countess. "in truth," said the countess, "evil is thy disposition; but if thou knowest what is to my advantage, declare it to me." "i will do so," said she. "thou knowest that, except by warfare and arms, it is impossible for thee to preserve thy possessions; delay not, therefore, to seek some one who can defend them." "and how can i do that?" said the countess. "i will tell thee," said luned; "unless thou canst defend the fountain, thou canst not maintain thy dominions; and no one can defend the fountain except it be a knight of arthur's household. i will go to arthur's court, and ill betide me if i return not thence with a warrior who can guard the fountain as well as, or even better than, he who defended it formerly." "that will be hard to perform," said the countess. "go, however, and make proof of that which thou hast promised," luned set out under the pretence of going to arthur's court; but she went back to the mansion where she had left owain, and she tarried there as long as it might have taken her to travel to the court of king arthur and back. and at the end of that time she apparelled herself, and went to visit the countess. and the countess was much rejoiced when she saw her, and inquired what news she brought from the court. "i bring thee the best of news," said luned, "for i have compassed the object of my mission. when wilt thou that i should present to thee the chieftain who has come with me hither?" "bring him here to visit me to-morrow," said the countess, "and i will cause the town to be assembled by that time." and luned returned home. and the next day at noon, owain arrayed himself in a coat and a surcoat, and a mantle of yellow satin, upon which was a broad band of gold lace; and on his feet were high shoes of variegated leather, which were fastened by golden clasps, in the form of lions. and they proceeded to the chamber of the countess. right glad was the countess of their coming. and she gazed steadfastly upon owain, and said, "luned, this knight has not the look of a traveller." "what harm is there in that, lady?" said luned. "i am certain," said the countess, "that no other man than this chased the soul from the body of my lord." "so much the better for thee, lady," said luned, "for had he not been stronger than thy lord, he could not have deprived him of life. there is no remedy for that which is past, be it as it may." "go back to thine abode," said the countess, "and i will take counsel." the next day the countess caused all her subjects to assemble, and showed them that her earldom was left defenceless, and that it could not be protected but with horse and arms, and military skill. "therefore," said she, "this is what i offer for your choice: either let one of you take me, or give your consent for me to take a husband from elsewhere, to defend my dominions." so they came to the determination that it was better that she should have permission to marry some one from elsewhere; and thereupon she sent for the bishops and archbishops, to celebrate her nuptials with owain. and the men of the earldom did owain homage. and owain defended the fountain with lance and sword. and this is the manner in which he defended it. whensoever a knight came there, he overthrew him, and sold him for his full worth. and what he thus gained he divided among his barons and his knights, and no man in the whole world could be more beloved than he was by his subjects. and it was thus for the space of three years. [footnote: there exists an ancient poem, printed among those of taliesin, called the "elegy of owain ap urien," and containing several very beautiful and spirited passages it commences "the soul of owain ap urien, may its lord consider its exigencies' reged's chief the green turf covers." in the course of this elegy the bard, alluding to the incessant warfare with which this chieftain harassed his saxon foes, exclaims, "could england sleep with the light upon her eyes'"] chapter iv the lady of the fountain (continued) gawain's adventure it befell that, as gawain went forth one day with king arthur, he perceived him to be very sad and sorrowful. and gawain was much grieved to see arthur in his state, and he questioned him, saying, "o my lord, what has befallen thee?" "in sooth, gawain," said arthur, "i am grieved concerning owain, whom i have lost these three years; and i shall certainly die if the fourth year pass without my seeing him. now i am sure that it is through the tale which kynon, the son of clydno, related, that i have lost owain." "there is no need for thee," said gawain, "to summon to arms thy whole dominions on this account, for thou thyself, and the men of thy household, will be able to avenge owain if he be slain or to set him free if he be in prison; and, if alive, to bring him back with thee." and it was settled according to what gawain had said. then arthur and the men of his household prepared to go and seek owain. and kynon, the son of clydno, acted as their guide. and arthur came to the castle where kynon had been before. and when he came there, the youths were shooting in the same place, and the yellow man was standing hard by. when the yellow man saw arthur, he greeted him, and invited him to the castle. and arthur accepted his invitation, and they entered the castle together. and great as was the number of his retinue, their presence was scarcely observed in the castle, so vast was its extent. and the maidens rose up to wait on them. and the service of the maidens appeared to them all to excel any attendance they had ever met with; and even the pages, who had charge of the horses, were no worse served that night than arthur himself would have been in his own palace. the next morning arthur set out thence, with kynon for his guide, and came to the place where the black man was. and the stature of the black man was more surprising to arthur than it had been represented to him. and they came to the top of the wooded steep, and traversed the valley, till they reached the green tree, where they saw the fountain and the bowl and the slab. and upon that kay came to arthur, and spoke to him. "my lord," said he, "i know the meaning of all this, and my request is that thou wilt permit me to throw the water on the slab, and to receive the first adventure that may befall." and arthur gave him leave. then kay threw a bowlful of water upon the slab, and immediately there came the thunder, and after the thunder the shower. and such a thunder-storm they had never known before. after the shower had ceased, the sky became clear, and on looking at the tree, they beheld it completely leafless. then the birds descended upon the tree. and the song of the birds was far sweeter than any strain they had ever heard before. then they beheld a knight, on a coal- black horse, clothed in black satin, coming rapidly towards them. and kay met him and encountered him, and it was not long before kay was overthrown. and the knight withdrew. and arthur and his host encamped for the night. and when they arose in the morning, they perceived the signal of combat upon the lance of the knight. then, one by one, all the household of arthur went forth to combat the knight, until there was not one that was not overthrown by him, except arthur and gawain. and arthur armed himself to encounter the knight. "o my lord," said gawain, "permit me to fight with him first." and arthur permitted him. and he went forth to meet the knight, having over himself and his horse a satin robe of honor, which had been sent him by the daughter of the earl of rhangyr, and in this dress he was not known by any of the host. and they charged each other, and fought all that day until the evening. and neither of them was able to unhorse the other. and so it was the next day; they broke their lances in the shock, but neither of them could obtain the mastery. and the third day they fought with exceeding strong lances. and they were incensed with rage, and fought furiously, even until noon. and they gave each other such a shock that the girths of their horses were broken, so that they fell over their horses' cruppers to the ground. and they rose up speedily and drew their swords, and resumed the combat. and all they that witnessed their encounter felt assured that they had never before seen two men so valiant or so powerful. and had it been midnight, it would have been light, from the fire that flashed from their weapons. and the knight gave gawain a blow that turned his helmet from off his face, so that the knight saw that it was gawain. then owain said, "my lord gawain, i did not know thee for my cousin, owing to the robe of honor that enveloped thee; take my sword and my arms." said gawain, "thou, owain, art the victor; take thou my sword." and with that arthur saw that they were conversing, and advanced toward them. "my lord arthur," said gawam, "here is owain who has vanquished me, and will not take my arms." "my lord," said owain, "it is he that has vanquished me, and he will not take my sword." "give me your swords," said arthur, "and then neither of you has vanquished the other." then owain put his arms around arthur's neck, and they embraced. and all the host hurried forward to see owain, and to embrace him. and there was nigh being a loss of life, so great was the press. and they retired that night, and the next day arthur prepared to depart. "my lord," said owain, "this is not well of thee. for i have been absent from thee these three years, and during all that time, up to this very day, i have been preparing a banquet for thee, knowing that thou wouldst come to seek me. tarry with me, therefore, until thou and thy attendants have recovered the fatigues of the journey, and have been anointed." and they all proceeded to the castle of the countess of the fountain, and the banquet which had been three years preparing was consumed in three months. never had they a more delicious or agreeable banquet. and arthur prepared to depart. then he sent an embassy to the countess to beseech her to permit owain to go with him, for the space of three months, that he might show him to the nobles and the fair dames of the island of britain. and the countess gave her consent, although it was very painful to her. so owain came with arthur to the island of britain. and when he was once more amongst his kindred and friends, he remained three years, instead of three months, with them. the adventure of the lion and as owain one day sat at meat, in the city of caerleon upon usk, behold a damsel entered the hall, upon a bay horse, with a curling mane, and covered with foam; and the bridle, and as much as was seen of the saddle, were of gold. and the damsel was arrayed in a dress of yellow satin. and she came up to owain, and took the ring from off his hand. "thus," said she, "shall be treated the deceiver, the traitor, the faithless, the disgraced, and the beardless." and she turned her horse's head and departed. [footnote: the custom of riding into a hall while the lord and his guests sat at meat might be illustrated by numerous passages of ancient romance and history. but a quotation from chaucer's beautiful and half-told tale of "cambuscan" is sufficient: "and so befell that after the thridde cours, while that this king sat thus in his nobley, herking his minstralles thir thinges play, beforne him at his bord deliciously, in at the halle door all sodenly ther came a knight upon a stede of bras, and in his hond a brod mirrour of glas; upon his thombe he had of gold a ring, and by his side a naked sword hanging; and up he rideth to the highe bord. in all the halle ne was ther spoke a word, for meryaille of this knight; him to behold full besily they waiten, young and old."] then his adventure came to owain's remembrance, and he was sorrowful. and having finished eating, he went to his own abode, and made preparations that night. and the next day he arose, but did not go to the court, nor did he return to the countess of the fountain, but wandered to the distant parts of the earth and to uncultivated mountains. and he remained there until all his apparel was worn out, and his body was wasted away, and his hair was grown long. and he went about with the wild beasts, and fed with them, until they became familiar with him. but at length he became so weak that he could no longer bear them company. then he descended from the mountains to the valley, and came to a park, that was the fairest in the world, and belonged to a charitable lady. one day the lady and her attendants went forth to walk by a lake that was in the middle of the park. and they saw the form of a man, lying as if dead. and they were terrified. nevertheless they went near him, and touched him, and they saw that there was life in him. and the lady returned to the castle, and took a flask full of precious ointment and gave it to one of her maidens. "go with this," said she, "and take with thee yonder horse, and clothing, and place them near the man we saw just now; and anoint him with this balsam near his heart; and if there is life in him, he will revive, through the efficiency of this balsam. then watch what he will do." and the maiden departed from her, and went and poured of the balsam upon owain, and left the horse and the garments hard by, and went a little way off and hid herself to watch him. in a short time, she saw him begin to move; and he rose up, and looked at his person, and became ashamed of the unseemliness of his appearance. then he perceived the horse and the garments that were near him. and he clothed himself, and with difficulty mounted the horse. then the damsel discovered herself to him, and saluted him. and he and the maiden proceeded to the castle, and the maiden conducted him to a pleasant chamber, and kindled a fire, and left him. and he stayed at the castle three months, till he was restored to his former guise, and became even more comely than he had ever been before. and owain rendered signal service to the lady, in a controversy with a powerful neighbor, so that he made ample requital to her for her hospitality; and he took his departure. and as he journeyed he heard a loud yelling in a wood. and it was repeated a second and a third time. and owain went towards the spot, and beheld a huge craggy mound, in the middle of the wood, on the side of which was a gray rock. and there was a cleft in the rock, and a serpent was within the cleft. and near the rock stood a black lion, and every time the lion sought to go thence the serpent darted towards him to attack him. and owain unsheathed his sword, and drew near to the rock; and as the serpent sprung out he struck him with his sword and cut him in two. and he dried his sword, and went on his way as before. but behold the lion followed him, and played about him, as though it had been a greyhound that he had reared. they proceeded thus throughout the day, until the evening. and when it was time for owain to take his rest he dismounted, and turned his horse loose in a flat and wooded meadow. and he struck fire, and when the fire was kindled, the lion brought him fuel enough to last for three nights. and the lion disappeared. and presently the lion returned, bearing a fine large roebuck. and he threw it down before owain, who went towards the fire with it. and owain took the roebuck, and skinned it, and placed collops of its flesh upon skewers round the fire. the rest of the buck he gave to the lion to devour. while he was so employed, he heard a deep groan near him, and a second, and a third. and the place whence the groans proceeded was a cave in the rock; and owain went near, and called out to know who it was that groaned so piteously. and a voice answered, "i am luned, the hand-maiden of the countess of the fountain." "and what dost thou here?" said he. "i am imprisoned," said she, "on account of the knight who came from arthur's court, and married the countess. and he staid a short time with her, but he afterwards departed for the court of arthur, and has not returned since. and two of the countess's pages traduced him, and called him a deceiver. and because i said i would vouch for it he would come before long and maintain his cause against both of them, they imprisoned me in this cave, and said that i should be put to death, unless he came to deliver me, by a certain day; and that is no further off than to-morrow, and i have no one to send to seek him for me. his name is owain, the son of urien." "and art thou certain that if that knight knew all this, he would come to thy rescue?" "i am most certain of it," said she. when the collops were cooked, owain divided them into two parts, between himself and the maiden, and then owain laid himself down to sleep; and never did sentinel keep stricter watch over his lord than the lion that night over owain. and the next day there came the two pages with a great troop of attendants to take luned from her cell, and put her to death. and owain asked them what charge they had against her. and they told him of the compact that was between them; as the maiden had done the night before. "and," said they, "owain has failed her, therefore we are taking her to be burnt." "truly," said owain, "he is a good knight; and if he knew that the maiden was in such peril, i marvel that he came not to her rescue. but if you will accept me in his stead, i will do battle with you." "we will," said the youth. and they attacked owain, and he was hard beset by them. and with that, the lion came to owain's assistance, and they two got the better of the young men and they said to him, "chieftain, it was not agreed that we should fight save with thyself alone, and it is harder for us to contend with yonder animal than with thee." and owain put the lion in the place where luned had been imprisoned, and blocked up the door with stones. and he went to fight with the young men as before. but owain had not his usual strength, and the two youths pressed hard upon him. and the lion roared incessantly at seeing owain in trouble. and he brust through the wall, until he found a way out, and rushed upon the young men and instantly slew them. so luned was saved from being burned. then owain returned with luned to the castle of the lady of the fountain. and when he went thence, he took the countess with him to arthur's court, and she was his wife as long as she lived. chapter v geraint, the son of erbin arthur was accustomed to hold his court at caerleon upon usk. and there he held it seven easters and five christmases. and once upon a time he held his court there at whitsuntide. for caerleon was the place most easy of access in his dominions, both by sea and by land. and there were assembled nine crowned kings, who were his tributaries, and likewise earls and barons. for they were his invited guests at all the high festivals, unless they were prevented by any great hinderatice. and when he was at caerleon holding his court, thirteen churches were set apart for mass. and thus they were appointed: one church for arthur and his kings, and his guests; and the second for guenever and her ladies; and the third for the steward of the household and the suitors; and the fourth for the franks and the other officers; and the other nine churches were for the nine masters of the household, and chiefly for gawain, for he, from the eminence of his warlike fame, and from the nobleness of his birth, was the most exalted of the nine. and there was no other arrangement respecting the churches than that which we have here mentioned. and on whit-tuesday, as the king sat at the banquet, lo, there entered a tall, fair-headed youth, clad in a coat and surcoat of satin, and a golden-hilted sword about his neck, and low shoes of leather upon his feet. and he came and stood before arthur. "hail to thee, lord," said he. "heaven prosper thee," he answered, "and be thou welcome. dost thou bring any new tidings?" "i do, lord," he said. "i am one of thy foresters, lord, in the forest of dean, and my name is madoc, son of turgadarn. in the forest i saw a stag, the like of which beheld i never yet." "what is there about him," asked arthur, "that thou never yet didst see his like?" "he is of pure white, lord, and he does not herd with any other animal, through stateliness and pride, so royal is his bearing. and i come to seek thy counsel, lord, and to know thy will concerning him." "it seems best to me," said arthur, "to go and hunt him to-morrow at break of day, and to cause general notice thereof to be given to-night, in all quarters of the court." "for arthur on the whitsuntide before held court at old caerleon upon usk. there on a day, he sitting high in hall, before him came a forester of dean, wet from the woods, with notice of a hart taller than all his fellows, milky-white, first seen that day: these things he told the king. then the good king gave order to let blow his horns for hunting on the morrow morn." --enid. and arryfuerys was arthur's chief huntsman, and arelivri his chief page. and all received notice; and thus it was arranged. then guenever said to arthur, "wilt thou permit me, lord, to go to-morrow to see and hear the hunt of the stag of which the young man spoke?" "i will gladly," said arthur. and gawain said to arthur, "lord, if it seem well to thee, permit that into whose hunt soever the stag shall come, that one, be he a knight or one on foot, may cut off his head, and give it to whom he pleases, whether to his own lady-love, or to the lady of his friend." "i grant it gladly," said arthur, "and let the steward of the household be chastised, if all things are not ready to-morrow for the chase." and they passed the night with songs, and diversions, and discourse, and ample entertainment. and when it was time for them all to go to sleep, they went. and when the next day came, they arose. and arthur called the attendants who guarded his couch. and there were four pages whose names were cadyrnerth, the son of gandwy, and ambreu, the son of bedwor and amhar, the son of arthur and goreu, the son of custennin. and these men came to arthur and saluted him, and arrayed him in his garments. and arthur wondered that guenever did not awake, and the attendants wished to awaken her. "disturb her not," said arthur, "for she had rather sleep than go to see the hunting." then arthur went forth, and he heard two horns sounding, one from near the lodging of the chief huntsman, and the other from near that of the chief page. and the whole assembly of the multitudes came to arthur, and they took the road to the forest. and after arthur had gone forth from the palace, guenever awoke, and called to her maidens, and apparalled herself. "maidens," said she, "i had leave last night to go and see the hunt. go one of you to the stable, and order hither a horse such as a woman may ride." and one of them went, and she found but two horses in the stable; and guenever and one of her maidens mounted them, and went through the usk, and followed the track of the men and the horses. and as they rode thus, they heard a loud and rushing sound; and they looked behind them, and beheld a knight upon a hunter foal of mighty size. and the rider was a fairhaired youth, bare-legged, and of princely mien; and a golden-hilted sword was at his side, and a robe and a surcoat of satin were upon him, and two low shoes of leather upon his feet; and around him was a scarf of blue purple, at each corner of which was a golden apple. "for prince geraint, late also, wearing neither hunting-dress nor weapon, save a golden-hilted brand, came quickly flashing through the shallow ford." --enid. and his horse stepped stately, and swift, and proud; and he overtook guenever, and saluted her. "heaven prosper thee, geraint," said she; "and why didst thou not go with thy lord to hunt?" "because i knew not when he went," said he. "i marvel too," said she, "how he could go, unknown to me. but thou, o young man, art the most agreeable companion i could have in the whole kingdom; and it may be i shall be more amused with the hunting than they; for we shall hear the horns when they sound and we shall hear the dogs when they are let loose and begin to cry." so they went to the edge of the forest, and there they stood. "from this place," said she, "we shall hear when the dogs are let loose." and thereupon they heard a loud noise; and they looked towards the spot whence it came, and they beheld a dwarf riding upon a horse, stately and foaming and prancing and strong and spirited. and in the hand of the dwarf was a whip. and near the dwarf they saw a lady upon a beautiful white horse, of steady and stately pace; and she was clothed in a garment of gold brocade. and near her was a knight upon a war-horse of large size, with heavy and bright armor both upon himself and upon his horse. and truly they never before saw a knight, or a horse, or armor, of such remarkable size. "geraint," said guenever, "knowest thou the name of that tall knight yonder?" "i know him not," said he, "and the strange armor that he wears prevents my either seeing his face or his features." "go, maiden," said guenever, "and ask the dwarf who that knight is." then the maiden went up to the dwarf; and she inquired of the dwarf who the knight was. "i will not tell thee," he answered. "since thou art so churlish," said she, "i will ask him, himself." "thou shalt not ask him, by my faith," said he. "wherefore not?" said she. "because thou art not of honor sufficient to befit thee to speak to my lord." then the maiden turned her horse's head towards the knight, upon which the dwarf struck her with the whip that was in his hand across the face and the eyes, so that the blood flowed forth. and the maiden returned to guenever, complaining of the hurt she had received. "very rudely has the dwarf treated thee," said geraint, and he put his hand upon the hilt of his sword. but he took counsel with himself, and considered that it would be no vengeance for him to slay the dwarf, and to be attacked unarmed by the armed knight; so he refrained. "lady," said he, "i will follow him, with thy permission, and at last he will come to some inhabited place, where i may have arms, either as a loan or for a pledge, so that i may encounter the knight." "go," said she, "and do not attack him until thou hast good arms; and i shall be very anxious concerning thee, until i hear tidings of thee." "if i am alive," said he, "thou shalt hear tidings of me by to-morrow afternoon;" and with that he departed. and the road they took was below the palace of caerleon, and across the ford of the usk; and they went along a fair and even and lofty ridge of ground, until they came to a town, and at the extremity of the town they saw a fortress and a castle. and as the knight passed through the town all the people arose and saluted him, and bade him welcome. and when geraint came into the town, he looked at every house to see if he knew any of those whom he saw. but he knew none, and none knew him, to do him the kindness to let him have arms, either as a loan or for a pledge. and every house he saw was full of men, and arms, and horses. and they were polishing shields, and burnishing swords, and washing armor, and shoeing horses. and the knight and the lady and the dwarf rode up to the castle, that was in the town, and every one was glad in the castle. and from the battlements and the gates they risked their necks, through their eagerness to greet them, and to show their joy. geraint stood there to see whether the knight would remain in the castle; and when he was certain that he would do so, he looked around him. and at a little distance from the town he saw an old palace in ruins, wherein was a hall that was falling to decay. "and high above a piece of turret-stair, worn by the feet that now were silent, wound bare to the sun" --enid. and as he knew not any one in the town, he went towards the old palace. and when he came near to the palace, he saw a hoary-headed man, standing by it, in tattered garments. and geraint gazed steadfastly upon him. then the hoary-headed man said to him, "young man, wherefore art thou thoughtful?" "i am thoughtful," said he, "because i know not where to pass the night." "wilt thou come forward this way, chieftain," said he, "and thou shalt have of the best that can be procured for thee." so geraint went forward. and the hoary-headed man led the way into the hall. and in the hall he dismounted, and he left there his horse. then he went on to the upper chamber with the hoary-headed man. and in the chamber he beheld an old woman, sitting on a cushion, with old, worn-out garments upon her; yet it seemed to him that she must have been comely when in the bloom of youth. and beside her was a maiden, upon whom were a vest and a veil that were old and beginning to be worn out. and truly he never saw a maiden more full of comeliness and grace and beauty than she. and the hoary- headed man said to the maiden, "there is no attendant for the horse of this youth but thyself." "i will render the best service i am able," said she, "both to him and to his horse." and the maiden disarrayed the youth, and then she furnished his horse with straw and corn; and then she returned to the chamber. and the hoary-headed man said to the maiden, "go to the town and bring hither the best that thou canst find, both of food and of liquor." "i will gladly, lord," said she. and to the town went the maiden. and they conversed together while the maiden was at the town. and, behold, the maiden came back, and a youth with her, bearing on his back a costrel full of good purchased mead, and a quarter of a young bullock. and in the hands of the maiden was a quantity of white bread, and she had some manchet bread in her veil, and she came into the chamber. "i would not obtain better than this," said she, "nor with better should i have been trusted." "it is good enough," said geraint. and they caused the meat to be boiled; and when their food was ready, they sat down. and it was in this wise. geraint sat between the hoary-headed man and his wife, and the maiden served them. and they ate and drank. and when they had finished eating, geraint talked with the hoary- headed man, and he asked him in the first place to whom belonged the palace that he was in. "truly," said he, "it was i that built it, and to me also belonged the city and the castle which thou sawest." "alas!" said geraint, "how is it that thou hast lost them now?" "i lost a great earldom as well as these," said he, "and this is how i lost them. i had a nephew, the son of my brother, and i took care of his possessions; but he was impatient to enter upon them, so he made war upon me, and wrested from me not only his own, but also my estates, except this castle." "good sir," said geraint, "wilt thou tell me wherefore came the knight and the lady and the dwarf just now into the town, and what is the preparation which i saw, and the putting of arms in order?" "i will do so," said he. "the preparations are for the game that is to be held to-morrow by the young earl, which will be on this wise. in the midst of a meadow which is here, two forks will be set up, and upon the two forks a silver rod, and upon the silver rod a sparrow-hawk, and for the sparrow-hawk there will be a tournament. and to the tournament will go all the array thou didst see in the city, of men and of horses and of arms. and with each man will go the lady he loves best; and no man can joust for the sparrow-hawk, except the lady he loves best be with him. and the knight that thou sawest has gained the sparrow-hawk these two years; and if he gains it the third year, he will be called the knight of the sparrow-hawk from that time forth." "sir," said geraint, "what is thy counsel to me concerning this knight, on account of the insult which the maiden of guenever received from the dwarf?" and geraint told the hoary-headed man what the insult was that the maiden had received. "it is not easy to counsel thee, inasmuch as thou hast neither dame nor maiden belonging to thee, for whom thou canst joust. yet i have arms here, which thou couldst have, and there is my horse also, if he seem to thee better than thine own." "ah, sir," said he, "heaven reward thee! but my own horse to which i am accustomed, together with thine arms, will suffice me. and if, when the appointed time shall come to-morrow thou wilt permit me, sir, to challenge for yonder maiden that is thy daughter, i will engage, if i escape from the tournament, to love the maiden as long as i live." "gladly will i permit thee," said the hoary-headed man; "and since thou dost thus resolve, it is necessary that thy horse and arms should be ready to-morrow at break of day. for then the knight of the sparrow-hawk will make proclamation, and ask the lady he loves best to take the sparrow-hawk; and if any deny it to her, by force will he defend her claim. and therefore," said the hoary-headed man, "it is needful for thee to be there at daybreak, and we three will be with thee." and thus was it settled. and at night they went to sleep. and before the dawn they arose and arrayed themselves; and by the time that it was day, they were all four in the meadow. and there was the knight of the sparrow- hawk making the proclamation, and asking his lady-love to take the sparrow-hawk. "take it not," said geraint, "for here is a maiden who is fairer, and more noble, and more comely, and who has a better claim to it than thou." then said the knight, "if thou maintainest the sparrow-hawk to be due to her, come forward and do battle with me." and geraint went forward to the top of the meadow, having upon himself and upon his horse armor which was heavy and rusty, and of uncouth shape. then they encountered each other, and they broke a set of lances; and they broke a second set, and a third. and when the earl and his company saw the knight of the sparrow-hawk gaining the mastery, there was shouting and joy and mirth amongst them; and the hoary-headed man and his wife and his daughter were sorrowful. and the hoary-headed man served geraint with lances as often as he broke them, and the dwarf served the knight of the sparrow-hawk. then the hoary-headed man said to geraint, "o chieftain, since no other will hold with thee, behold, here is the lance which was in my hand on the day when i received the honor of knighthood, and from that time to this i never broke it, and it has an excellent point." then geraint took the lance, thanking the hoary-headed man. and thereupon the dwarf also brought a lance to his lord. "behold, here is a lance for thee, not less good than his," said the dwarf. "and bethink thee that no knight ever withstood thee so long as this one has done." "i declare to heaven," said geraint, "that unless death takes me quickly hence, he shall fare never the better for thy service." and geraint pricked his horse towards him from afar, and, warning him, he rushed upon him, and gave him a blow so severe, and furious, and fierce, upon the face of his shield, that he cleft it in two, and broke his armor, and burst his girths, so that both he and his saddle were borne to the ground over the horse's crupper. and geraint dismounted quickly. and he was wroth, and he drew his sword, and rushed fiercely upon him. then the knight also arose, and drew his sword against geraint. and they fought on foot with their swords until their arms struck sparks of fire like stars from one another; and thus they continued fighting until the blood and sweat obscured the light from their eyes. at length geraint called to him all his strength, and struck the knight upon the crown of his head, so that he broke all his head-armor, and cut through all the flesh and the skin, even to the skull, until he wounded the bone. then the knight fell upon his knees, and cast his sword from his hand, and besought mercy from geraint. "of a truth," said he, "i relinquish my overdaring and my pride, and crave thy mercy; and unless i have time to commit myself to heaven for my sins, and to talk with a priest, thy mercy will avail me little." "i will grant thee grace upon this condition," said geraint, "that thou go to guenever, the wife of arthur, to do her satisfaction for the insult which her maiden received from thy dwarf. dismount not from the time thou goest hence until thou comest into the presence of guenever, to make her what atonement shall be adjudged at the court of arthur." "this will i do gladly; and who art thou?" "i am geraint, the son of erbin; and declare thou also who thou art." "i am edeym, the son of nudd." then he threw himself upon his horse, and went forward to arthur's court; and the lady he loved best went before him, and the dwarf, with much lamentation. then came the young earl and his hosts to geraint, and saluted him, and bade him to his castle. "i may not go," said geraint; "but where i was last night, there will i be to-night also." "since thou wilt none of my inviting, thou shalt have abundance of all that i can command for thee; and i will order ointment for thee, to recover thee from thy fatigues, and from the weariness that is upon thee." "heaven reward thee," said geraint, "and i will go to my lodging." and thus went geraint and earl ynywl, and his wife and his daughter. and when they reached the old mansion, the household servants and attendants of the young earl had arrived, and had arranged all the apartments, dressing them with straw and with fire; and in a short time the ointment was ready, and geraint came there, and they washed his head. then came the young earl, with forty honorable knights from among his attendants, and those who were bidden to the tournament. and geraint came from the anointing. and the earl asked him to go to the hall to eat. "where is the earl ynywl," said geraint, "and his wife and his daughter?" "they are in the chamber yonder," said the earl's chamberlain, "arraying themselves in garments which the earl has caused to be brought for them." "let not the damsel array herself," said he, "except in her vest and her veil, until she come to the court of arthur, to be clad by guenever in such garments as she may choose." so the maiden did not array herself. then they all entered the hall, and they washed, and sat down to meat. and thus were they seated. on one side of geraint sat the young earl, and earl ynywl beyond him, and on the other side of geraint was the maiden and her mother. and after these all sat according to their precedence in honor. and they ate. and they were served abundantly, and they received a profusion of divers kinds of gifts. then they conversed together. and the young earl invited geraint to visit him next day. "i will not, by heaven," said geraint. "to the court of arthur will i go with this maiden to-morrow. and it is enough for me, as long as earl ynywl is in poverty and trouble; and i go chiefly to seek to add to his maintenance." "ah, chieftain," said the young earl, "it is not by my fault that earl ynywl is without his possessions." "by my faith," said geraint, "he shall not remain without them, unless death quickly takes me hence." "o chieftain," said he, "with regard to the disagreement between me and ynywl, i will gladly abide by thy counsel, and agree to what thou mayest judge right between us." "i but ask thee," said geraint, "to restore to him what is his, and what he should have received from the time he lost his possessions even until this day." "that will i do, gladly, for thee," answered he. "then," said geraint, "whosoever is here who owes homage to ynywl, let him come forward, and perform it on the spot." and all the men did so; and by that treaty they abided. and his castle and his town, and all his possessions, were restored to ynywl. and he received back all that he had lost, even to the smallest jewel. then spoke earl ynywl to geraint. "chieftain," said he, "behold the maiden for whom thou didst challenge at the tournament; i bestow her upon thee." "she shall go with me," said geraint, "to the court of arthur, and arthur and guenever, they shall dispose of her as they will." and the next day they proceeded to arthur's court. so far concerning geraint. chapter vi geraint, the son of erbin (continued) now this is how arthur hunted the stag. the men and the dogs were divided into hunting-parties, and the dogs were let loose upon the stag. and the last dog that was let loose was the favorite dog of arthur; cavall was his name. and he left all the other dogs behind him and turned the stag. and at the second turn the stag came toward the hunting-party of arthur. and arthur set upon him; and before he could be slain by any other, arthur cut off his head. then they sounded the death-horn for slaying and they all gathered round. they came kadyriath to arthur and spoke to him. "lord," said he, "behold, yonder is guenever, and none with her save only one maiden." "command gildas, the son of caw, and all the scholars of the court," said arthur, "to attend guenever to the palace." and they did so. then they all set forth, holding converse together concerning the head of the stag, to whom it should be given. one wished that it should be given to the lady best beloved by him, and another to the lady whom he loved best. and so they came to the palace. and when arthur and guenever heard them disputing about the head of the stag, guenever said to arthur: "my lord, this is my counsel concerning the stag's head; let it not be given away until geraint, the son of erbin, shall return from the errand he is upon." and guenever told arthur what that errand was. "right gladly shall it be so," said arthur. and guenever caused a watch to be set upon the ramparts for geraint's coming. and after midday they beheld an unshapely little man upon a horse, and after him a dame or a damsel, also on horseback, and after her a knight of large stature, bowed down, and hanging his head low and sorrowfully, and clad in broken and worthless armor. and before they came near to the gate one of the watch went to guenever, and told her what kind of people they saw, and what aspect they bore. "i know not who they are," said he, "but i know," said guenever; "this is the knight whom geraint pursued, and methinks that he comes not here by his own free will. but geraint has overtaken him, and avenged the insult to the maiden to the uttermost." and thereupon, behold, a porter came to the spot where guenever was. "lady," said he, "at the gate there is a knight, and i saw never a man of so pitiful an aspect to look upon as he. miserable and broken is the armor that he wears, and the hue of blood is more conspicuous upon it than its own color." "knowest thou his name?" said she. "i do," said he; "he tells me that he is edeyrn, the son of nudd." then she replied, "i know him not." so guenever went to the gate to meet him and he entered. and guenever was sorry when she saw the condition he was in, even though he was accompanied by the churlish dwarf. then edeyrn saluted guenever. "heaven protect thee," said she. "lady," said he, "geraint, the son of erbin, thy best and most valiant servant, greets thee." "did he meet with thee?" she asked. "yes," said he, "and it was not to my advantage; and that was not his fault, but mine, lady. and geraint greets thee well; and in greeting thee he compelled me to come hither to do thy pleasure for the insult which thy maiden received from the dwarf." "now where did he overtake thee?" "at the place where we were jousting and contending for the sparrow-hawk, in the town which is now called cardiff. and it was for the avouchment of the love of the maiden, the daughter of earl ynywl, that geraint jousted at the tournament. and thereupon we encountered each other, and he left me, lady, as thou seest." "sir," said she, "when thinkest thou that geraint will be here?" "to-morrow, lady, i think he will be here with the maiden." then arthur came to them. and he saluted arthur, and arthur gazed a long time upon him and was amazed to see him thus. and thinking that he knew him, he inquired of him, "art thou edeyrn, the son of nudd?" "i am, lord," said he, "and i have met with much trouble and received wounds unsupportable." then he told arthur all his adventure. "well," said arthur, "from what i hear it behooves guenever to be merciful towards thee." "the mercy which thou desirest, lord," said she. "will i grant to him, since it is as insulting to thee that an insult should be offered to me as to thyself." "thus will it be best to do," said arthur; "let this man have medical care until it be known whether he may live. and if he live, he shall do such satisfaction as shall be judged best by the men of the court. and if he die, too much will be the death of such a youth as edeyrn for an insult to a maiden." "this pleases me," said guenever. and arthur caused morgan tud to be called to him. he was the chief physician. "take with thee edeyrn, the son of nudd, and cause a chamber to be prepared for him, and let him have the aid of medicine as thou wouldst do unto myself, if i were wounded, and let none into his chamber to molest him, but thyself and thy disciples, to administer to him remedies." "i will do so, gladly, lord," said morgan tud. then said the steward of the household, "whither is it right, lord, to order the maiden?" "to guenever and her handmaidens," said he. and the steward of the household so ordered her. "and rising up, he rode to arthur's court, and there the queen forgave him easily. and being young, he changed himself, and grew to hate the sin that seem'd so like his own of modred, arthur's nephew, and fell at last in the great battle fighting for the king." --enid. the next day came geraint towards the court; and there was a watch set on the ramparts by guenever, lest he should arrive unawares. and one of the watch came to guenever. "lady," said he, "methinks that i see geraint, and a maiden with him. he is on horseback, but he has his walking gear upon him, and the maiden appears to be in white, seeming to be clad in a garment of linen." "assemble all the women," said guenever, "and come to meet geraint, to welcome him, and wish him joy." and guenever went to meet geraint and the maiden. and when geraint came to the place where guenever was, he saluted her. "heaven prosper thee," said she, "and welcome to thee." "lady," said he, "i earnestly desired to obtain thee satisfaction, according to thy will; and, behold, here is the maiden through whom thou hadst thy revenge." "verily," said guenever, "the welcome of heaven be unto her; and it is fitting that we should receive her joyfully." then they went in and dismounted. and geraint came to where arthur was, and saluted him. "heaven protect thee," said arthur, "and the welcome of heaven be unto thee. and inasmuch as thou hast vanquished edeyrn, the son of nudd, thou hast had a prosperous career." "not upon me be the blame," said geraint; "it was through the arrogance of edeyrn, the son of nudd, himself, that we were not friends." "now," said arthur, "where is the maiden for whom i heard thou didst give challenge?" "she is gone with guenever to her chamber." then went arthur to see the maiden. and arthur, and all his companions, and his whole court, were glad concerning the maiden. and certain were they all, that, had her array been suitable to her beauty, they had never seen a maid fairer than she. and arthur gave away the maiden to geraint. and the usual bond made between two persons was made between geraint and the maiden, and the choicest of all guenever's apparel was given to the maiden; and thus arrayed, she appeared comely and graceful to all who beheld her. and that day and the night were spent in abundance of minstrelsy, and ample gifts of liquor, and a multiude of games. and when it was time for them to go to sleep they went. and in the chamber where the couch of arthur and guenever was, the couch of geraint and enid was prepared. and from that time she became his wife. and the next day arthur satisfied all the claimants upon geraint with bountiful gifts. and the maiden took up her abode in the palace, and she had many companions, both men and women, and there was no maiden more esteemed than she in the island of britain. then spake guenever. "rightly did i judge," said she, "concerning the head of the stag, that it should not be given to any until geraint's return; and behold, here is a fit occasion for bestowing it. let it be given to enid, the daughter of ynywl, the most illustrious maiden. and i do not believe that any will begrudge it her, for between her and every one here there exists nothing but love and friendship." much applauded was this by them all, and by arthur also. and the head of the stag was given to enid. and thereupon her fame increased, and her friends became more in number than before. and geraint from that time forth loved the hunt, and the tournament, and hard encounters; and he came victorious from them all. and a year, and a second, and a third, he proceeded thus, until his fame had flown over the face of the kingdom. and, once upon a time, arthur was holding his court at caerleon upon usk; and behold, there came to him ambassadors, wise and prudent, full of knowledge and eloquent of speech, and they saluted arthur. "heaven prosper you!" said arthur; "and whence do you come?" "we come, lord," said they, "from cornwall; and we are ambassadors from erbin, the son of custennin, thy uncle, and our mission is unto thee. and he greets thee well, as an uncle should greet his nephew, and as a vassal should greet his lord. and he represents unto thee that he waxes heavy and feeble, and is advancing in years. and the neighboring chiefs, knowing this, grow insolent towards him, and covet his land and possessions. and he earnestly beseeches thee, lord, to permit geraint, his son, to return to him, to protect his possessions, and to become acquainted with his boundaries. and unto him he represents that it were better for him to spend the flower of his youth and the prime of his age in preserving his own boundaries, than in tournaments which are productive of no profit, although he obtains glory in them." "well," said arthur, "go and divest yourselves of your accoutrements, and take food, and refresh yourselves after your fatigues; and before you go from hence you shall have an answer." and they went to eat. and arthur considered that it would go hard with him to let geraint depart from him, and from his court; neither did he think it fair that his cousin should be restrained from going to protect his dominions and his boundaries, seeing that his father was unable to do so. no less was the grief and regret of guenever, and all her women, and all her damsels, through fear that the maiden would leave them. and that day and that night were spent in abundance of feasting. and arthur told geraint the cause of the mission, and of the coming of the ambassadors to him out of cornwall. "truly," said geraint, "be it to my advantage or disadvantage, lord, i will do according to thy will concerning this embassy." "behold," said arthur, "though it grieves me to part with thee, it is my counsel that thou go to dwell in thine own dominions, and to defend thy boundaries, and take with thee to accompany thee as many as thou wilt of those thou lovest best among my faithful ones, and among thy friends, and among thy companions in arms." "heaven reward thee! and this will i do," said geraint. "what discourse," said guenever, "do i hear between you? is it of those who are to conduct geraint to his country?" "it is," said arthur. "then is it needful for me to consider," said she, "concerning companions and a provision for the lady that is with me." "thou wilt do well," said arthur. and that night they went to sleep. and the next day the ambassadors were permitted to depart, and they were told that geraint should follow them. and on the third day geraint set forth, and many went with him--gawain, the son of gwyar, and riogoned, the son of the king of ireland, and ondyaw, the son of the duke of burgundy, gwilim, the son of the ruler of the franks, howel, the son of the earl of brittany, perceval, the son of evrawk, gwyr, a judge in the court of arthur, bedwyr, the son of bedrawd, kai, the son of kyner, odyar, the frank, and ederyn, the son of nudd. said geraint, "i think i shall have enough of knighthood with me." and they set forth. and never was there seen a fairer host journeying towards the severn. and on the other side of the severn were the nobles of erbin, the son of custennin, and his foster-father at their head, to welcome geraint with gladness; and many of the women of the court, with his mother, came to receive enid, the daughter of ynywl, his wife. and there was great rejoicing and gladness throughout the whole court, and through all the country, concerning geraint, because of the greatness of their love to him, and of the greatness of the fame which he had gained since he went from amongst them, and because he was come to take possession of his dominions, and to preserve his boundaries. and they came to the court. and in the court they had ample entertainment, and a multitude of gifts, and abundance of liquor, and a sufficiency of service, and a variety of games. and to do honor to geraint, all the chief men of the country were invited that night to visit him. and they passed that day and that night in the utmost enjoyment. and at dawn next day erbin arose and summoned to him geraint, and the noble persons who had borne him company. and he said to geraint: "i am a feeble and an aged man, and whilst i was able to maintain the dominion for thee and for myself, i did so. but thou art young, and in the flower of thy vigor and of thy youth. henceforth do thou preserve thy possessions." "truly," said geraint, "with my consent thou shalt not give the power over thy dominions at this time into my hands, and thou shalt not take me from arthur's court." "into thy hands will i give them," said erbin, "and this day also shalt thou receive the homage of thy subjects." then said gawain, "it were better for thee to satisfy those who have boons to ask, to-day, and to-morrow thou canst receive the homage of thy dominions." so all that had boons to ask were summoned into one place. and kadyriath came to them to know what were their requests. and every one asked that which he desired. and the followers of arthur began to make gifts, and immediately the men of cornwall came, and gave also. and they were not long in giving, so eager was every one to bestow gifts, and of those who came to ask gifts, none departed unsatisfied. and that day and that night were spent in the utmost enjoyment. and the next day at dawn, erbin desired geraint to send messengers to the men to ask them whether it was displeasing to them that he should come to receive their homage, and whether they had anything to object to him. then geraint sent ambassadors to the men of cornwall to ask them this. and they all said that it would be the fulness of joy and honor to them for geraint to come and receive their homage. so he received the homage of such as were there. and the day after the followers of arthur intended to go away. "it is too soon for you to go away yet," said he; "stay with me until i have finished receiving the homage of my chief men, who have agreed to come to me." and they remained with him until he had done so. then they set forth towards the court of arthur. and geraint went to bear them company, and enid also, as far as diganwy; there they parted. and ondyaw, the son of the duke of burgundy, said to geraint, "go, now, and visit the uttermost parts of thy dominions, and see well to the boundaries of thy territories; and if thou hast any trouble respecting them, send unto thy companions." "heaven reward thee!" said geraint; "and this will i do." and geraint journeyed to the uttermost parts of his dominions. and experienced guides, and the chief men of his country, went with him. and the furthermost point that they showed him he kept possession of. chapter vii geraint, the son of erbin (continued) geraint, as he had been used to do when he was at arthur's court, frequented tournaments. and he became acquainted with valiant and mighty men, until he had gained as much fame there as he had formerly done elsewhere. and he enriched his court, and his companions, and his nobles, with the best horses and the best arms, and with the best and most valuable jewels, and he ceased not until his fame had flown over the face of the whole kingdom. "before geraint, the scourge of the enemy, i saw steeds white with foam, and after the shout of battle a fearful torrent." --hen. when he knew that it was thus, he began to love ease and pleasure, for there was no one who was worth his opposing. and he loved his wife, and liked to continue in the palace with minstrelsy and diversions. so he began to shut himself up in the chamber of his wife, and he took no delight in anything besides, insomuch that he gave up the friendship of his nobles, together with his hunting and his amusements, and lost the hearts of all the host in his court. and there was murmuring and scoffing concerning him among the inhabitants of the palace, on account of his relinquishing so completely their companionship for the love of his wife. "they began to scoff and jeer and babble of him as of a prince whose manhood was all gone, and molten down in mere uxoriousness." these tidings came to erbin. and when erbin had heard these things, he spoke unto enid, and inquired of her whether it was she that had caused geraint to act thus, and to forsake his people and his hosts. "not i, by my confession unto heaven," said she; "there is nothing more hateful unto me than this." and she knew not what she should do, for, although it was hard for her to own this to geraint, yet was it not more easy for her to listen to what she heard, without warning geraint concerning it. and she was very sorrowful. one morning in the summer-time they were upon their couch, and geraint lay upon the edge of it. and enid was without sleep in the apartment, which had windows of glass; [footnote: the terms of admiration in which the older writers invariably speak of glass windows would be sufficient proof, if other evidence were wanting, how rare an article of luxury they were in the houses of our ancestors. they were first introduced in ecclesiastical architecture, to which they were for a long time confined. glass is said not to have been employed in domestic architecture before the fourteenth century.] and the sun shone upon the couch. and the clothes had slipped from off his arms and his breast, and he was asleep. then she gazed upon the marvellous beauty of his appearance, and she said, "alas! and am i the cause that these arms and this breast have lost their glory, and the warlike fame which they once so richly enjoyed!" as she said this the tears dropped from her eyes, and they fell upon his breast. and the tears she shed and the words she had spoken, awoke him. and another thing contributed to awaken him, and that was the idea that it was not in thinking of him that she spoke thus, but that it was because she loved some other man more than him, and that she wished for other society. thereupon geraint was troubled in his mind, and he called his squire; and when he came to him, "go quickly," said he, "and prepare my horse and my arms, and make them ready. and do thou rise," said he to enid, "and apparel thyself; and cause thy horse to be accoutred, and clothe thee in the worst riding-dress that thou hast in thy possession. and evil betide me," said he, "if thou returnest here until thou knowest whether i have lost my strength so completely as thou didst say. and if it be so, it will then be easy for thee to seek the society thou didst wish for of him of whom thou wast thinking." so she arose, and clothed herself in her meanest garments. "i know nothing, lord," said she, "of thy meaning." "neither wilt thou know at this time," said he. then geraint went to see erbin. "sir," said he, "i am going upon a quest, and i am not certain when i may come back. take heed, therefore, unto thy possessions until my return." "i will do so," said he; "but it is strange to me that thou shouldst go so suddenly. and who will proceed with thee, since thou art not strong enough to traverse the land of loegyr alone?" "but one person only will go with me." "heaven counsel thee, my son," said erbin, "and may many attach themselves to thee in loegyr." then went geraint to the place where his horse was, and it was equipped with foreign armor, heavy and shining. and he desired enid to mount her horse, and to ride forward, and to keep a long way before him. "and whatever thou mayst see, and whatever thou mayst hear concerning me," said he, "do thou not turn back. and unless i speak unto thee, say not thou one word, either." so they set forward. and he did not choose the pleasantest and most frequented road, but that which was the wildest and most beset by thieves and robbers and venomous animals. and they came to a high road, which they followed till they saw a vast forest; and they saw four armed horsemen come forth from the forest. when the armed men saw them, they said one to another. "here is a good occasion for us to capture two horses and armor, and a lady likewise; for this we shall have no difficulty in doing against yonder single knight who hangs his head so pensively and heavily." enid heard this discourse, and she knew not what she should do through fear of geraint, who had told her to be silent. "the vengeance of heaven be upon me," said she, "if i would not rather receive my death from his hand than from the hand of any other; and though he should slay me, yet will i speak to him, lest i should have the misery to witness his death." so she waited for geraint until he came near to her. "lord," said she, "didst thou hear the words of those men concerning thee?" then he lifted up his eyes, and looked at her angrily. "thou hadst only," said he, "to hold thy peace as i bade thee. i wish but for silence, and not for warning. and though thou shouldst desire to see my defeat and my death by the hands of those men, yet do i feel no dread." then the foremost of them couched his lance, and rushed upon geraint. and he received him, and that not feebly. but he let the thrust go by him, while he struck the horseman upon the centre of his shield, in such a manner that his shield was split, and his armor broken, so that a cubit's length of the shaft of geraint's lance passed through his body, and sent him to the earth, the length of the lance over his horse's crupper. then the second horseman attacked him furiously, being wroth at the death of his companion. but with one thrust geraint overthrew him also, and killed him as he had done the other. then the third set upon him, and he killed him in like manner. and thus also he slew the fourth. sad and sorrowful was the maiden as she saw all this. geraint dismounted his horse, and took the arms of the men he had slain, and placed them upon their saddles, and tied together the reins of their horses; and he mounted his horse again. "behold what thou must do," said he; "take the four horses and drive them before thee, and proceed forward as i bade thee just now. and say not one word unto me, unless i speak first unto thee. and i declare unto heaven," said he, "if thou doest not thus, it will be to thy cost." "i will do as far as i can, lord," said she, "according to thy desire." so the maiden went forward, keeping in advance of geraint, as he had desired her; and it grieved him as much as his wrath would permit, to see a maiden so illustrious as she having so much trouble with the care of the horses. then they reached a wood, and it was both deep and vast, and in the wood night overtook them. "ah, maiden," said he, "it is vain to attempt proceeding forward." "well, lord," said she, "whatever thou wishest, we will do." "it will be best for us," he answered, "to rest and wait for the day, in order to pursue our journey." "that we will, gladly," said she. and they did so. having dismounted himself, he took her down from her horse. "i cannot by any means refrain from sleep, through weariness," said he; "do thou therefore watch the horses, and sleep not." "i will, lord," said she. then he went to sleep in his armor, and thus passed the night, which was not long at that season. and when she saw the dawn of day appear, she looked around her to see if he were waking, and thereupon he woke. then he arose, and said unto her, "take the horses and ride on, and keep straight on as thou didst yesterday." and they left the wood, and they came to an open country, with meadows on one hand, and mowers mowing the meadows. and there was a river before them, and the horses bent down and drank of the water. and they went up out of the river by a lofty steep; and there they met a slender stripling with a satchel about his neck, and they saw that there was something in the satchel, but they knew not what it was. and he had a small blue pitcher in his hand, and a bowl on the mouth of the pitcher. and the youth saluted geraint. "heaven prosper thee!" said geraint; "and whence dost thou come?" "i come," said he, "from the city that lies before thee. my lord," he added, "will it be displeasing to thee if i ask whence thou comest also?" "by no means; through yonder wood did i come." "thou camest not through the wood to-day." "no," he replied, "we were in the wood last night." "i warrant," said the youth, "that thy condition there last night was not the most pleasant, and that thou hadst neither meat nor drink." "no, by my faith," said he. "wilt thou follow my counsel," said the youth, "and take thy meal from me?" "what sort of meal?" he inquired. "the breakfast which is sent for yonder mowers, nothing less than bread and meat and wine, and if thou wilt, sir, they shall have none of it." "i will," said he, "and heaven reward thee for it." so geraint alighted, and the youth took the maiden from off her horse. then they washed, and took their repast. and the youth cut the bread in slices, and gave them drink, and served them withal. and when they had finished, the youth arose and said to geraint, "my lord, with thy permission, i will now go and fetch some food for the mowers." "go first to the town," said geraint, "and take a lodging for me in the best place that thou knowest, and the most commodious one for the horses; and take thou whichever horse and arms thou choosest, in payment for thy service and thy gift." "heaven reward thee, lord!" said the youth; "and this would be ample to repay services much greater than those i have rendered unto thee." and to the town went the youth, and he took the best and the most pleasant lodgings that he knew; and after that he went to the palace, having the horse and armor with him, and proceeded to the place where the earl was, and told him all his adventure. "i go now, lord," said he, "to meet the knight, and to conduct him to his lodging." "go, gladly," said the earl; "and right joyfully shall he be received here, if he so come." and the youth went to meet geraint, and told him that he would be received gladly by the earl in his own palace; but he would go only to his lodgings. and he had a goodly chamber, in which was plenty of straw and drapery, and a spacious and commodious place he had for the horses; and the youth prepared for them plenty of provender. after they had disarrayed themselves, geraint spoke thus to enid: "go," said he, "to the other side of the chamber, and come not to this side of the house; and thou mayst call to thee the woman of the house, if thou wilt." "i will do, lord," said she, "as thou sayest." thereupon the man of the house came to geraint and welcomed him. and after they had eaten and drank, geraint went to sleep, and so did enid also. in the evening, behold, the earl came to visit geraint, and his twelve honorable knights with him. and geraint rose up and welcomed him. then they all sat down according to their precedence in honor. and the earl conversed with geraint, and inquired of him the object of his journey. "i have none," he replied, "but to seek adventures and to follow mine own inclination." then the earl cast his eye upon enid, and he looked at her steadfastly. and he thought he had never seen a maiden fairer or more comely than she. and he set all his thoughts and his affections upon her. then he asked of geraint, "have i thy permission to go and converse with yonder maiden, for i see that she is apart from thee?" "thou hast it gladly," said he. so the earl went to the place where the maiden was, and spake with her. "ah! maiden," said he, "it cannot be pleasant to thee to journey with yonder man." "it is not unpleasant to me," said she. "thou hast neither youths nor maidens to serve thee," said he. "truly," she replied, "it is more pleasant for me to follow yonder man, than to be served by youths and maidens." "i will give thee good counsel," said he: "all my earldom will i place in thy possession, if thou wilt dwell with me." "enid, the pilot star of my lone life, enid, my early and my only love." --enid. "that will i not, by heaven," she said; "yonder man was the first to whom my faith was ever pledged; and shall i prove inconstant to him?" "thou art in the wrong," said the earl; "if i slay the man yonder, i can keep thee with me as long as i choose; and when thou no longer pleasest me, i can turn thee away. but if thou goest with me by thy own good-will, i protest that our union shall continue as long as i remain alive." then she pondered those words of his, and she considered that it was advisable to encourage him in his request. "behold then, chieftain, this is most expedient for thee to do to save me from all reproach; come here to-morrow and take me away as though i knew nothing thereof." "i will do so," said he. so he arose and took his leave, and went forth with his attendants. and she told not then to geraint any of the conversation which she had had with the earl, lest it should rouse his anger, and cause him uneasiness and care. and at the usual hour they went to sleep. and at the beginning of the night enid slept a little; and at midnight she arose, and placed all geraint's armor together so that it might be ready to put on. and although fearful of her errand, she came to the side of geraint's bed; and she spoke to him softly and gently, saying, "my lord, arise, and clothe thyself, for these were the words of the earl to me and his intention concerning me." so she told geraint all that had passed. and although he was wroth with her, he took warning, and clothed himself. and she lighted a candle, that he might have light to do so. "leave there the candle," said he, "and desire the man of the house to come here." then she went, and the man of the house came to him. "dost thou know how much i owe thee?" asked geraint. "i think thou owest but little." "take the three horses and the three suits of armor." "heaven reward thee, lord," said he, "but i spent not the value of one suit of armor upon thee." "for that reason," said he, "thou wilt be the richer. and now, wilt thou come to guide me out of the town?" "i will gladly," said he; "and in which direction dost thou intend to go?" "i wish to leave the town by a different way from that by which i entered it." so the man of the lodgings accompanied him as far as he desired. then he bade the maiden to go on before him, and she did so, and went straight forward, and his host returned home. and geraint and the maiden went forward along the high-road. and as they journeyed thus, they heard an exceeding loud wailing near to them. "stay thou here," said he, "and i will go and see what is the cause of this wailing." "i will," said she. then he went forward into an open glade that was near the road. and in the glade he saw two horses, one having a man's saddle, and the other a woman's saddle upon it. and behold there was a knight lying dead in his armor, and a young damsel in a riding-dress standing over him lamenting. "ah, lady," said geraint, "what hath befallen thee?" "behold," she answered, "i journeyed here with my beloved husband, when lo! three giants came upon us, and without any cause in the world, they slew him." "which way went they hence?" said geraint. "yonder by the high-road," she replied. so he returned to enid. "go," said he, "to the lady that is below yonder, and await me there till i come." she was sad when he ordered her to do thus, but nevertheless she went to the damsel, whom it was ruth to hear, and she felt certain that geraint would never return. meanwhile geraint followed the giants, and overtook them. and each of them was greater in stature than three other men, and a huge club was on the shoulder of each. then he rushed upon one of them, and thrust his lance through his body. and having drawn it forth again, he pierced another of them through likewise. but the third turned upon him and struck him with his club so that he split his shield and crushed his shoulder. but geraint drew his sword and gave the giant a blow on the crown of his head, so severe, and fierce, and violent, that his head and his neck were split down to his shoulders, and he fell dead. so geraint left him thus and returned to enid. and when he reached the place where she was he fell down lifeless from his horse. piercing and loud and thrilling was the cry that enid uttered. and she came and stood over him where he had fallen. and at the sound of her cries came the earl of limours, and they who journeyed with him, whom her lamentations brought out of their road. and the earl said to enid, "alas, lady, what hath befallen thee?" "ah, good sir," said she, "the only man i have loved, or ever shall love, is slain." then he said to the other, "and what is the cause of thy grief?" "they have slain my beloved husband also," said she. "and who was it that slew them?" "some giants," she answered, "slew my best-beloved, and the other knight went in pursuit of them, and came back in the state thou seest." the earl caused the knight that was dead to be buried, but he thought that there still remained some life in geraint; and to see if he yet would live, he had him carried with him in the hollow of his shield, and upon a bier. and the two damsels went to the court; and when they arrived there, geraint was placed upon a little couch in front of the table that was in the hall. then they all took off their traveling-gear, and the earl besought enid to do the same, and to clothe herself in other garments. "i will not, by heaven," said she. "ah, lady," said he, "be not so sorrowful for this matter." "it were hard to persuade me to be otherwise," said she. "i will act towards thee in such wise that thou needest not be sorrowful, whether yonder knight live or die. behold, a good earldom, together with myself, will i bestow upon thee; be therefore happy and joyful." "i declare to heaven," said she, "that henceforth i shall never be joyful while i live." "come," said he, "and eat." "no, by heaven, i will not." "but, by heaven, thou shalt," said he. so he took her with him to the table against her will, and many times desired her to eat. "i call heaven to witness," said she, "that i will not until the man that is upon yonder bier shall eat likewise." "thou canst not fulfil that," said the earl, "yonder man is dead already." "i will prove that i can," said she. then he offered her a goblet of liquor. "drink this goblet," he said, "and it will cause thee to change thy mind." "evil betide me," she answered, "if i drink aught until he drink also." "truly," said the earl, "it is of no more avail for me to be gentle with thee than ungentle." and he gave her a box in the ear. thereupon she raised a loud and piercing shriek, and her lamentations were much greater than they had been before; for she considered in her mind, that, had geraint been alive, he durst not have struck her thus. but, behold, at the sound of her cry, geraint revived from his swoon, and he sat upon the bier; and finding his sword in the hollow of his shield, he rushed to the place where the earl was, and struck him a fiercely-wounding, severely-venomous, and sternly-smiting blow upon the crown of his head, so that he clove him in twain, until his sword was staid by the table. then all left the board and fled away. and this was not so much through fear of the living, as through the dread they felt at seeing the dead man rise up to slay them. and geraint looked upon enid, and he was grieved for two causes; one was to see that enid had lost her color and her wonted aspect; and the other, to know that she was in the right. "lady," said he, "knowest thou where our horses are?" "i know, lord, where thy horse is," she replied, "but i know not where is the other. thy horse is in the house yonder." so he went to the house, and brought forth his horse, and mounted him, and took up enid, and placed her upon the horse with him. and he rode forward. and their road lay between two hedges; and the night was gaining on the day. and lo! they saw behind them the shafts of spears betwixt them and the sky, and they heard the tramping of horses, and the noise of a host approaching. "i hear something following us," said he, "and i will put thee on the other side of the hedge." and thus he did. and thereupon, behold a knight pricked towards him, and couched his lance. when enid saw this, she cried out, saying, "o chieftain, whoever thou art, what renown wilt thou gain by slaying a dead man?" "o heaven!" said he, "is it geraint?" "yes, in truth," said she; "and who art thou?" "i am gwiffert petit," said he, "thy husband's ally, coming to thy assistance, for i heard that thou wast in trouble. come with me to the court of a son-in-law of my sister, which is near here, and thou shalt have the best medical assistance in the kingdom." "i will do so gladly," said geraint. and enid was placed upon the horse of one of gwiffert's squires, and they went forward to the baron's palace. and they were received there with gladness, and they met with hospitality and attention. the next morning they went to seek physicians; and it was not long before they came, and they attended geraint until he was perfectly well. and while geraint was under medical care gwiffert caused his armor to be repaired, until it was as good as it had ever been. and they remained there a month and a fortnight. then they separated, and geraint went towards his own dominions, and thenceforth he reigned prosperously, and his warlike fame and splendor lasted with renown and honor, both to him and to enid, from that time forward. [footnote: throughout the broad and varied region of romance it would be difficult to find a character of greater simplicity and truth than that of enid, the daughter of earl ynywl. conspicuous for her beauty and noble bearing, we are at a loss whether more to admire the patience with which she bore all the hardships she was destined to undergo or the constancy and affection which finally achieved the truimph she so richly deserved. the character of enid is admirably sustained through the whole tale; and as it is more natural, because less overstrained, so perhaps it is even more touching than that of griselda, over which, however, chaucer has thrown a charm that leads us to forget the improbability of her story.] chapter viii pwyll, prince of dyved once upon a time pwyll was at narberth, his chief palace, where a feast had been prepared for him, and with him was a great host of men. and after the first meal pwyll arose to walk; and he went to the top of a mound that was above the palace, and was called gorsedd arberth. "lord," said one of the court, "it is peculiar to the mound that whosoever sits upon it cannot go thence without either receiving wounds or blows, or else seeing a wonder." "i fear not to receive wounds or blows," said pwyll; "but as to the wonder, gladly would i see it. i will therefore go and sit upon the mound." and upon the mound he sat. and while he sat there, they saw a lady, on a pure white horse of large size, with a garment of shining gold around her, coming along the highway that led from the mound. "my men," said pwyll, "is there any among you who knows yonder lady?" "there is not, lord," said they. "go one of you and meet her, that we may know who she is." and one of them arose, and as he came upon the road to meet her, she passed by; and he followed as fast as he could, being on foot, and the greater was his speed, the further was she from him. and when he saw that it profited him nothing to follow her, he returned to pwyll, and said unto him, "lord, it is idle for any one in the world to follow her on foot." "verily," said pwyll, "go unto the palace, and take the fleetest horse that thou seest, and go after her." and he took a horse and went forward. and he came to an open, level plain, and put spurs to his horse; and the more he urged his horse, the further was she from him. and he returned to the place where pwyll was, and said, "lord, it will avail nothing for any one to follow yonder lady. i know of no horse in these realms swifter than this, and it availed me not to pursue her." "of a truth," said pwyll, "there must be some illusion here; let us go towards the palace." so to the palace they went, and spent the day. and the next day they amused themselves until it was time to go to meat. and when meat was ended, pwyll said, "where are the hosts that went yesterday to the top of the mound?" "behold, lord, we are here," said they. "let us go," said he, "to the mound, and sit there. and do thou," said he to the page who tended his horse, "saddle my horse well, and hasten with him to the road, and bring also my spurs with thee." and the youth did thus. and they went and sat upon the mound; and ere they had been there but a short time, they beheld the lady coming by the same road, and in the same manner, and at the same pace. "young man," said pwyll, "i see the lady coming; give me my horse." and before he had mounted his horse she passed him. and he turned after her and followed her. and he let his horse go bounding playfully, and thought that he should soon come up with her. but he came no nearer to her than at first. then he urged his horse to his utmost speed, yet he found that it availed not. then said pwyll, "o maiden, for the sake of him whom thou best lovest, stay for me." "i will stay gladly," said she; "and it were better for thy horse hadst thou asked it long since." so the maiden stopped; and she threw back that part of her head-dress which covered her face. then he thought that the beauty of all the maidens and all the ladies that he had ever seen was as nothing compared to her beauty. "lady," he said, "wilt thou tell me aught concerning thy purpose?" "i will tell thee," said she; "my chief quest was to see thee." "truly," said pwyll, "this is to me the most pleasing quest on which thou couldst have come; and wilt thou tell me who thou art?" "i will tell thee, lord," said she. "i am rhiannon, the daughter of heveydd, and they sought to give me a husband against my will. but no husband would i have, and that because of my love for thee; neither will i yet have one, unless thou reject me; and hither have i come to hear thy answer." "by heaven," said pwyll, "behold this is my answer. if i might choose among all the ladies and damsels in the world, thee would i choose." "verily," said she, "if thou art thus minded, make a pledge to meet me ere i am given to another." "the sooner i may do so, the more pleasing will it be to me," said pwyll; "and wheresoever thou wilt, there will i meet with thee." "i will that thou meet me this day twelvemonth at the palace of heveydd." "gladly," said he, "will i keep this tryst." so they parted, and he went back to his hosts, and to them of his household. and whatsoever questions they asked him respecting the damsel, he always turned the discourse upon other matters. and when a year from that time was gone, he caused a hundred knights to equip themselves, and to go with him to the palace of heveydd. and he came to the palace, and there was great joy concerning him, with much concourse of people, and great rejoicing, and vast preparations for his coming. and the whole court was placed under his orders. and the hall was garnished, and they went to meat, and thus did they sit: heveydd was on one side of pwyll, and rhiannon on the other; and all the rest according to their rank. and they ate and feasted, and talked one with another. and at the beginning of the carousal after the meat, there entered a tall, auburn-haired youth, of royal bearing, clothed in a garment of satin. and when he came into the hall, he saluted pwyll and his companions. "the greeting of heaven be unto thee," said pwyll; "come thou and sit down." "nay," said he, "a suitor am i, and i will do my errand." "do so willingly," said pwyll. "lord," said he, "my errand is unto thee, and it is to crave a boon of thee that i come." "what boon soever thou mayest ask of me, so far as i am able, thou shalt have." "ah!" said rhiannon, "wherefore didst thou give that answer?" "has he not given it before the presence of these nobles?" asked the youth. "my soul," said pwyll, "what is the boon thou askest?" "the lady whom best i love is to be thy bride this night; i come to ask her of thee, with the feast and the banquet that are in this place." and pwyll was silent, because of the promise which he had given. "be silent as long as thou wilt," said rhiannon, "never did man make worse use of his wits than thou hast done." "lady," said he, "i knew not who he was." "behold, this is the man to whom they would have given me against my will," said she; "and he is gawl, the son of clud, a man of great power and wealth, and because of the word thou hast spoken, bestow me upon him, lest shame befall thee." "lady," said he, "i understand not thy answer; never can i do as thou sayest." "bestow me upon him," said she, "and i will cause that i shall never be his." "by what means will that be?" asked pwyll. then she told him the thought that was in her mind. and they talked long together. then gawl said, "lord, it is meet that i have an answer to my request." "as much of that thou hast asked as it is in my power to give, thou shalt have," replied pwyll. "my soul," said rhiannon unto gawl, "as for the feast and the banquet that are here, i have bestowed them upon the men of dyved, and the household and the warriors that are with us. these can i not suffer to be given to any. in a year from to-night, a banquet shall be prepared for thee in this palace, that i may become thy bride." so gawl went forth to his possessions, and pwyll went also back to dyved. and they both spent that year until it was the time for the feast at the palace of heveydd. then gawl, the son of clud, set out to the feast that was prepared for him; and he came to the palace, and was received there with rejoicing. pwyll, also, the chief of dyved, came to the orchard with a hundred knights, as rhiannon had commanded him. and pwyll was clad in coarse and ragged garments, and wore large, clumsy old shoes upon his feet. and when he knew that the carousal after the meat had begun, he went toward the hall; and when he came into the hall he saluted gawl, the son of clud, and his company, both men and women. "heaven prosper thee," said gawl, "and friendly greeting be unto thee!" "lord," said he, "may heaven reward thee! i have an errand unto thee." "welcome be thine errand, and if thou ask of me that which is right, thou shalt have it gladly." "it is fitting," answered he; "i crave but from want, and the boon i ask is to have this small bag that thou seest filled with meat." "a request within reason is this," said he, "and gladly shalt thou have it. bring him food." a great number of attendants arose and began to fill the bag; but for all they put into it, it was no fuller than at first. "my soul," said gawl, "will thy bag ever be full?" "it will not, i declare to heaven," said he, "for all that may be put into it, unless one possessed of lands, and domains, and treasure, shall arise and tread down with both his feet the food that is within the bag, and shall say, 'enough has been put therein.'" then said rhiannon unto gawl, the son of clud, "rise up quickly." "i will willingly arise," said he. so he rose up, and put his two feet into the bag. and pwyll turned up the sides of the bag, so that gawl was over his head in it. and he shut it up quickly, and slipped a knot upon the thongs, and blew his horn. and thereupon, behold, his knights came down upon the palace. and they seized all the host that had come with gawl, and cast them into his own prison. and pwyll threw off his rags, and his old shoes, and his tattered array. and as they came in, every one of pwyll's knights struck a blow upon the bag, and asked, "what is here?" "a badger," said they. and in this manner they played, each of them striking the bag, either with his foot or with a staff. and thus played they with the bag. and then was the game of badger in the bag first played. "lord," said the man in the bag, "if thou wouldst but hear me, i merit not to be slain in a bag." said heveydd, "lord, he speaks truth; it were fitting that thou listen to him, for he deserves not this." "verily," said pwyll, "i will do thy counsel concerning him." "behold, this is my counsel then," said rhiannon. "thou art now in a position in which it behooves thee to satisfy suitors and minstrels. let him give unto them in thy stead, and take a pledge from him that he will never seek to revenge that which has been done to him. and this will be punishment enough." "i will do this gladly," said the man in the bag. "and gladly will i accept it," said pwyll, "since it is the counsel of heveydd and rhiannon. seek thyself sureties." "we will be for him," said heveydd, "until his men be free to answer for him." and upon this he was let out of the bag, and his liegemen were liberated. "verily, lord," said gawl, "i am greatly hurt, and i have many bruises. with thy leave, i will go forth. i will leave nobles in my stead to answer for me in all that thou shalt require." "willingly," said pwyll, "mayest thou do this." so gawl went to his own possessions. and the hall was set in order for pwyll and the men of his host, and for them also of the palace, and they went to the tables and sat down. and as they had sat that time twelvemonth, so sat they that night. and they ate and feasted, and spent the night in mirth and tranquility. and the time came that they should sleep, and pwyll and rhiannon went to their chamber. and next morning at break of day, "my lord," said rhiannon, "arise and begin to give thy gifts unto the minstrels. refuse no one to- day that may claim thy bounty." "thus shall it be gladly," said pwyll, "both to-day and every day while the feast shall last." so pwyll arose, and he caused silence to be proclaimed, and desired all the suitors and minstrels to show and to point out what gifts they desired. and this being done, the feast went on, and he denied no one while it lasted. and when the feast was ended, pwyll said unto heveydd, "my lord, with thy permission, i will set out for dyved to-morrow." "certainly," said heveydd; "may heaven prosper thee! fix also a time when rhiannon shall follow thee." "by heaven," said pwyll, "we will go hence together." "willest thou this, lord?" said heveydd. "yes, lord," answered pwyll. and the next, day they set forward towards dyved, and journeyed to the palace of narberth, where a feast was made ready for them. and there came to them great numbers of the chief men and the most noble ladies of the land, and of these there were none to whom rhiannon did not give some rich gift, either a bracelet, or a ring, or a precious stone. and they ruled the land prosperously that year and the next. chapter ix branwen, the daughter of llyr bendigeid vran, the son of llyr, was the crowned king of this island, and he was exalted from the crown of london. and one afternoon he was at harlech, in ardudwy, at his court; and he sat upon the rock of harlech, looking over the sea. and with him were his brother, manawyddan, the son of llyr, and his brothers by the mother's side, nissyen and evnissyen, and many nobles likewise, as was fitting to see around a king. his two brothers by the mother's side were the sons of euroswydd, and one of these youths was a good youth, and of gentle nature, and would make peace between his kindred, and cause his family to be friends when their wrath was at the highest, and this one was nissyen; but the other would cause strife between his two brothers when they were most at peace. and as they sat thus they beheld thirteen ships coming from the south of ireland, and making towards them; and they came with a swift motion, the wind being behind them; and they neared them rapidly. "i see ships afar," said the king, "coming swiftly towards the land. command the men of the court that they equip themselves, and go and learn their intent." so the men equipped themselves, and went down towards them. and when they saw the ships near, certain were they that they had never seen ships better furnished. beautiful flags of satin were upon them. and, behold, one of the ships outstripped the others, and they saw a shield lifted up above the side of the ship, and the point of the shield was upwards, in token of peace. and the men drew near, that they might hold converse. then they put out boats, and came toward the land. and they saluted the king. now the king could hear them from the place where he was upon the rock above their heads. "heaven prosper you." said he, "and be ye welcome! to whom do these ships belong, and who is the chief amongst you?" "lord," said they, "matholch, king of ireland, is here, and these ships belong to him." "wherefore comes he?" asked the king, "and will he come to the land?" "he is a suitor unto thee, lord," said they, "and he will not land unless he have his boon." "and what may that be?" inquired the king. "he desires to ally himself, lord, with thee," said they, "and he comes to ask branwen, the daughter of llyr, that, if it seem well to thee, the island of the mighty [footnote: the island of the mighty is one of the many names bestowed upon britain by the welsh.] may be leagued with ireland, and both become more powerful." "verily," said he, "let him come to land, and we will take counsel thereupon." and this answer was brought to matholch. "i will go willingly," said he. so he landed, and they received him joyfully; and great was the throng in the palace that night, between his hosts and those of the court; and next day they took counsel, and they resolved to bestow branwen upon matholch. now she was one of the three chief ladies of this island, and she was the fairest damsel in the world. and they fixed upon aberfraw as the place where she should become his bride. and they went thence, and towards aberfraw the hosts proceeded, matholch and his host in their ships, bendigeid vran and his host by land, until they came to aberfraw. and at aberfraw they began the feast, and sat down. and thus sat they: the king of the island of the mighty and manawyddan, the son of llyr, on one side, and matholch on the other side, and branwen, the daughter of llyr, beside him. and they were not within a house, but under tents. no house could ever contain bendigeid vran. and they began the banquet, and caroused and discoursed. and when it was more pleasing to them to sleep than to carouse, they went to rest, and branwen became matholch's bride. and next day they arose, and all they of the court, and the officers began to equip, and to range the horses and the attendants, and they ranged them in order as far as the sea. and, behold, one day evnissyen, the quarrelsome man, of whom it is spoken above, came by chance into the place where the horses of matholch were, and asked whose horses they might be. "they are the horses of matholch, king of ireland, who is married to branwen, thy sister; his horses are they." "and is it thus they have done with a maiden such as she, and moreover my sister, bestowing her without my consent? they could have offered no greater insult to me than this," said he. and thereupon he rushed under the horses, and cut off their lips at the teeth, and their ears close to their heads, and their tails close to their backs; and he disfigured the horses, and rendered them useless. and they came with these tidings unto matholch, saying that the horses were disfigured and injured, so that not one of them could ever be of any use again. "verily, lord," said one, "it was an insult unto thee, and as such was it meant." "of a truth, it is a marvel to me that, if they desire to insult me, they should have given me a maiden of such high rank, and so much beloved of her kindred, as they have done." "lord," said another, "thou seest that thus it is, and there is nothing for thee to do but to go to thy ships." and thereupon towards his ships he set out. and tidings came to bendigeid vran that matholch was quitting the court without asking leave, and messengers were sent to inquire of him wherefore he did so. and the messengers that went were iddic, the son of anarawd, and heveyd hir. and these overtook him, and asked of him what he designed to do, and wherefore he went forth. "of a truth," said he, "if i had known, i had not come hither. i have been altogether insulted; no one had ever worse treatment than i have had here." "truly, lord, it was not the will of any that are of the court," said they, "nor of any that are of the council, that thou shouldst have received this insult; and as thou hast been insulted, the dishonor is greater unto bendigeid vran than unto thee." "verily," said he, "i think so. nevertheless, he cannot recall the insult." these men returned with that answer to the place where bendigeid vran was, and they told him what reply matholch had given them. "truly," said he, "there are no means by which we may prevent his going away at enmity with us that we will not take." "well, lord," said they, "send after him another embassy." "i will do so," said he. "arise, manawyddan, son of llyr, and heveyd hir, and go after him, and tell him that he shall have a sound horse for every one that has been injured. and beside that, as an atonement for the insult, he shall have a staff of silver as large and as tall as himself, and a plate of gold of the breadth of his face. and show unto him who it was that did this, and that it was done against my will; but that he who did it is my brother, and therefore it would be hard for me to put him to death. and let him come and meet me," said he, "and we will make peace in any way he may desire." the embassy went after matholch, and told him all these sayings in a friendly manner; and he listened thereunto. "men," said he, "i will take counsel." so to the council he went. and in the council they considered that, if they should refuse this, they were likely to have more shame rather than to obtain so great an atonement. they resolved, therefore, to accept it, and they returned to the court in peace. then the pavilions and the tents were set in order, after the fashion of a hall; and they went to meat, and as they had sat at the beginning of the feast so sat they there. and matholch and bendigeid vran began to discourse; and, behold, it seemed to bendigeid vran, while they talked, that matholch was not so cheerful as he had been before. and he thought that the chieftain might be sad because of the smallness of the atonement which he had for the wrong that had been done him. "o man," said bendigeid vran, "thou dost not discourse to-night so cheerfully as thou wast wont. and if it be because of the smallness of the atonement, thou shalt add thereunto whatsoever thou mayest choose, and to-morrow i will pay thee for the horses." "lord," said he, "heaven reward thee!" "and i will enhance the atonement," said bendigeid vran, "for i will give unto thee a caldron, the property of which is, that if one of thy men be slain to-day, and be cast therein, to- morrow he will be as well as ever he was at the best, except that he will not regain his speech." and thereupon he gave him great thanks, and very joyful was he for that cause. that night they continued to discourse as much as they would, and had minstrelsy and carousing; and when it was more pleasant to them to sleep than to sit longer, they went to rest. and thus was the banquet carried on with joyousness; and when it was finished, matholch journeyed towards ireland, and branwen with him; and they went from aber menei with thirteen ships, and came to ireland. and in ireland was there great joy because of their coming. and not one great man nor noble lady visited branwen unto whom she gave not either a clasp or a ring, or a royal jewel to keep, such as it was honorable to be seen departing with. and in these things she spent that year in much renown, and she passed her time pleasantly, enjoying honor and friendship. and in due time a son was born unto her, and the name that they gave him was gwern, the son of matholch, and they put the boy out to be nursed in a place where were the best men of ireland. and, behold, in the second year a tumult arose in ireland, on account of the insult which matholch had received in wales, and the payment made him for his horses. and his foster-brothers, and such as were nearest to him, blamed him openly for that matter. and he might have no peace by reason of the tumult, until they should revenge upon him this disgrace. and the vengeance which they took was to drive away branwen from the same chamber with him, and to make her cook for the court; and they caused the butcher, after he had cut up the meat, to come to her and give her every day a blow on the ear; and such they made her punishment. "verily, lord," said his men to matholch, "forbid now the ships and the ferry-boats, and the coracles, that they go not into wales, and such as come over from wales hither, imprison them, that they go not back for this thing to be known there." and he did so; and it was thus for no less than three years. and branwen reared a starling in the cover of the kneading-trough, and she taught it to speak, and she taught the bird what manner of man her brother was. and she wrote a letter of her woes, and the despite with which she was treated, and she bound the letter to the root of the bird's wing, and sent it toward wales. and the bird came to that island; and one day it found bendigeid vran at caer seiont in arvon, conferring there, and it alighted upon his shoulder, and ruffled its feathers, so that the letter was seen, and they knew that the bird had been reared in a domestic manner. then bendigeid vran took the letter and looked upon it. and when he had read the letter, he grieved exceedingly at the tidings of branwen's woes. and immediately he began sending messengers to summon the island together. and he caused seven-score and four of his chief men to come unto him, and he complained to them of the grief that his sister endured. so they took counsel. and in the counsel they resolved to go to ireland, and to leave seven men as princes at home, and caradoc, [footnote: caractacus.] the son of bran, as the chief of them. bendigeid vran, with the host of which we spoke, sailed towards ireland; and it was not far across the sea, and he came to shoal water. now the swine-herds of matholch were upon the sea-shore, and they came to matholch. "lord," said they, "greeting be unto thee." "heaven protect you!" said he; "have you any news?" "lord," said they, "we have marvellous news. a wood have we seen upon the sea, in a place where we never yet saw a single tree." "this is indeed a marvel," said he; "saw you aught else?" "we saw, lord," said they, "a vast mountain beside the wood, which moved, and there was a lofty ridge on the top of the mountain, and a lake on each side of the ridge. and the wood and the mountain, and all these things, moved." "verily," said he, "there is none who can know aught concerning this unless it be branwen." messengers then went unto branwen. "lady," said they, "what thinkest thou that this is?" "the men of the island of the mighty, who have come hither on hearing of my ill-treatment and of my woes." "what is the forest that is seen upon the sea?" asked they. "the yards and the masts of ships," she answered. "alas!" said they; "what is the mountain that is seen by the side of the ships?" "bendigeid vran, my brother," she replied, "coming to shoal water, and he is wading to the land." "what is the lofty ridge, with the lake on each side thereof?" "on looking towards this island he is wroth, and his two eyes on each side of his nose are the two lakes on each side of the ridge." the warriors and chief men of ireland were brought together in haste, and they took counsel. "lord," said the neighbors unto matholch, "there is no other counsel than this alone. thou shalt give the kingdom to gwern, the son of branwen his sister, as a compensation for the wrong and despite that have been done unto branwen. and he will make peace with thee." and in the council it was resolved that this message should be sent to bendigeid vran, lest the country should be destroyed. and this peace was made. and matholch caused a great house to be built for bendigeid vran, and his host. thereupon came the hosts into the house. the men of the island of ireland entered the house on the one side, and the men of the island of the mighty on the other. and as soon as they had sat down, there was concord between them; and the sovereignty was conferred upon the boy. when the peace was concluded, bendigeid vran called the boy unto him, and from bendigeid vran the boy went unto manawyddan; and he was beloved by all that beheld him. and from manawyddan the boy was called by nissyen, the son of euroswydd, and the boy went unto him lovingly. "wherefore," said evnissyen, "comes not my nephew, the son of my sister, unto me? though he were not king of ireland, yet willingly would i fondle the boy." "cheerfully let him go to thee," said bendigeid vran; and the boy went unto him cheerfully. "by my confession to heaven," said evnissyen in his heart, "unthought of is the slaughter that i will this instant commit." then he arose and took up the boy, and before any one in the house could seize hold of him he thrust the boy headlong into the blazing fire. and when branwen saw her son burning in the fire, she strove to leap into the fire also, from the place where she sat between her two brothers. but bendigeid vran grasped her with one hand, and his shield with the other. then they all hurried about the house, and never was there made so great a tumult by any host in one house as was made by them, as each man armed himself. and while they all sought their arms bendigeid vran supported branwen between his shield and his shoulder. and they fought. then the irish kindled a fire under the caldron of renovation, and they cast the dead bodies into the caldron until it was full; and the next day they came forth fighting men, as good as before, except that they were not able to speak. then when evnissyen saw the dead bodies of the men of the island of the mighty nowhere resuscitated, he said in his heart, "alas! woe is me, that i should have been the cause of bringing the men of the island of the mighty into so great a strait. evil betide me if i find not a deliverance therefrom." and he cast himself among the dead bodies of the irish; and two unshod irishmen came to him, and, taking him to be one of the irish, flung him into the caldron. and he stretched himself out in the caldron, so that he rent the caldron into four pieces, and burst his own heart also. in consequence of this, the men of the island of the mighty obtained such success as they had; but they were not victorious, for only seven men of them all escaped, and bendigeid vran himself was wounded in the foot with a poisoned dart. now the men that escaped were pryderi, manawyddan, taliesin, and four others. and bendigeid vran commanded them that they should cut off his head. "and take you my head," said he, "and bear it even unto the white mount in london, and bury it there with the face towards france. and so long as it lies there, no enemy shall ever land on the island." so they cut off his head, and these seven went forward therewith. and branwen was the eighth with them. and they came to land on aber alaw, and they sat down to rest. and branwen looked towards ireland, and towards the island of the mighty, to see if she could descry them. "alas!" said she, "woe is me that i was ever born; two islands have been destroyed because of me." then she uttered a groan, and there broke her heart. and they made her a four-sided grave, and buried her upon the banks of the alaw. then the seven men journeyed forward, bearing the head with them; and as they went, behold there met them a multitude of men and women. "have you any tidings?" said manawyddan. "we have none," said they, "save that caswallawn, [footnote: cassivellaunus.] the son of beli, has conquered the island of the mighty, and is crowned king in london." "what has become," said they, "of caradoc, the son of bran, and the seven men who were left with him in this island?" "caswallawn came upon them, and slew six of the men, and caradoc's heart broke for grief thereof." and the seven men journeyed on towards london, and they buried the head in the white mount, as bendigeid vran had directed them. [footnote: there is a triad upon the story of the head buried under the white tower of london, as a charm against invasion. arthur, it seems, proudly disinterred the head, preferring to hold the island by his own strength alone.] chapter x manawyddan pwyll and rhiannon had a son, whom they named pryderi. and when he was grown up, pwyll, his father, died. and pryderi married kicva, the daughter of gwynn gloy. now manawyddan returned from the war in ireland, and he found that his cousin had seized all his possessions, and much grief and heaviness came upon him. "alas! woe is me!" he exclaimed; "there is none save myself without a home and a resting-place." "lord," said pryderi, "be not so sorrowful. thy cousin is king of the island of the mighty, and though he has done thee wrong, thou hast never been a claimant of land or possessions." "yea," answered he, "but although this man is my cousin, it grieveth me to see any one in the place of my brother, bendigeid vran; neither can i be happy in the same dwelling with him." "wilt thou follow the counsel of another?" said pryderi. "i stand in need of counsel," he answered, "and what may that counsel be?" "seven cantrevs belong unto me," said pryderi, "wherein rhiannon, my mother, dwells. i will bestow her upon thee, and the seven cantrevs with her; and though thou hadst no possessions but those cantrevs only, thou couldst not have any fairer than they. do thou and rhiannon enjoy them, and if thou desire any possessions thou wilt not despise these." "i do not, chieftain," said he. "heaven reward thee for the friendship! i will go with thee to seek rhiannon, and to look at thy possessions." "thou wilt do well," he answered; "and i believe that thou didst never hear a lady discourse better than she, and when she was in her prime, none was ever fairer. even now her aspect is not uncomely." they set forth, and, however long the journey, they came at last to dyved; and a feast was prepared for them by rhiannon and kicva. then began manawyddan and rhiannon to sit and to talk together; and his mind and his thoughts became warmed towards her, and he thought in his heart he had never beheld any lady more fulfilled of grace and beauty than she. "pryderi," said he, "i will that it be as thou didst say." "what saying was that?" asked rhiannon. "lady," said pryderi, "i did offer thee as a wife to manawyddan, the son of llyr." "by that will i gladly abide," said rhiannon. "right glad am i also," said manawyddan, "may heaven reward him who hath shown unto me friendship so perfect as this!" and before the feast was over she became his bride. said pryderi, "tarry ye here the rest of the feast, and i will go into england to tender my homage unto caswallawn, the son of beli." "lord," said rhiannon, "caswallawn is in kent; thou mayest therefore tarry at the feast, and wait until he shall be nearer." "we will wait," he answered. so they finished the feast. and they began to make the circuit of dyved, and to hunt, and to take their pleasure. and as they went through the country, they had never seen lands more pleasant to live in, nor better hunting grounds, nor greater plenty of honey and fish. and such was the friendship between these four, that they would not be parted from each other by night nor by day. and in the midst of all this he went to caswallawn at oxford, and tendered his homage; and honorable was his reception there, and highly was he praised for offering his homage. and after his return pryderi and manawyddan feasted and took their ease and pleasure. and they began a feast at narberth, for it was the chief palace. and when they had ended the first meal, while those who served them ate, they arose and went forth, and proceeded to the gorsedd, that is, the mount of narberth, and their retinue with them. and as they sat thus, behold a peal of thunder, and with the violence of the thunder-storm, lo! there came a fall of mist, so thick that not one of them could see the other. and after the mist it became light all around. and when they looked towards the place where they were wont to see the cattle and herds and dwellings, they saw nothing now, neither house, nor beast, nor smoke, nor fire, nor man, nor dwelling, but the buildings of the court empty, and desert, and uninhabited, without either man or beast within them. and truly all their companions were lost to them, without their knowing aught of what had befallen them, save those four only. "in the name of heaven," said manawyddan, "where are they of the court, and all my host beside? let us go and see." so they came to the castle, and saw no man, and into the hall, and to the sleeping-place, and there was none; and in the mead-cellar and in the kitchen there was naught but desolation. then they began to go through the land, and all the possessions that they had; and they visited the houses and dwellings, and found nothing but wild beasts. and when they had consumed their feast and all their provisions, they fed upon the prey they killed in hunting, and the honey of the wild swans. and one morning pryderi and manawyddan rose up to hunt, and they ranged their dogs and went forth. and some of the dogs ran before them, and came to a bush which was near at hand; but as soon as they were come to the bush, they hastily drew back, and returned to the men, their hair bristling up greatly. "let us go near to the bush," said pryderi, "and see what is in it." and as they came near, behold, a wild boar of a pure white color rose up from the bush. then the dogs, being set on by the men, rushed towards him; but he left the bush, and fell back a little way from the men, and made a stand against the dogs, without retreating from them, until the men had come near. and when the men came up, he fell back a second time, and betook him to flight. then they pursued the boar until they beheld a vast and lofty castle, all newly built, in a place where they had never before seen either stone or building. and the boar ran swiftly into the castle, and the dogs after him. now when the boar and the dogs had gone into the castle, the men began to wonder at finding a castle in a place where they had never before seen any building whatsoever. and from the top of the gorsedd they looked and listened for the dogs. but so long as they were there, they heard not one of the dogs, nor aught concerning them. "lord," said pryderi, "i will go into the castle to get tidings of the dogs." "truly," he replied, "thou wouldst be unwise to go into this castle, which thou hast never seen till now. if thou wouldst follow my counsel, thou wouldst not enter therein. whosoever has cast a spell over this land, has caused this castle to be here." "of a truth," answered pryderi, "i cannot thus give up my dogs." and for all the counsel that manawyddan gave him, yet to the castle he went. when he came within the castle, neither man nor beast, nor boar, nor dogs, nor house, nor dwelling, saw he within it. but in the centre of the castle-floor he beheld a fountain with marble-work around it, and on the margin of the fountain a golden bowl upon a marble slab, and chains hanging from the air, to which he saw no end. and he was greatly pleased with the beauty of the gold, and with the rich workmanship of the bowl; and he went up to the bowl, and laid hold of it. and when he had taken hold of its his hands stuck to the bowl, and his feet to the slab on which the bowl was placed; and all his joyousness forsook him, so that he could not utter a word. and thus he stood. and manawyddan waited for him till near the close of the day. and late in the evening, being certain that he should have no tidings of pryderi or the dogs, he went back to the palace. and as he entered, rhiannon looked at him. "where," said she, "are thy companion and thy dogs?" "behold," he answered, "the adventure that has befallen me." and he related it all unto her. "an evil companion hast thou been," said rhiannon, "and a good companion hast thou lost." and with that word she went out, and proceeded towards the castle, according to the direction which he gave her. the gate of the castle she found open. she was nothing daunted, and she went in. and as she went in, she perceived pryderi laying hold of the bowl, and she went towards him. "o my lord," said she, "what dost thou here?" and she took hold of the bowl with him; and as she did so, her hands also became fast to the bowl, and her feet to the slab, and she was not able to utter a word. and with that, as it became night, lo! there came thunder upon them, and a fall of mist; and thereupon the castle vanished, and they with it. when kicva, the daughter of gwynn gloy, saw that there was no one in the palace but herself and manawyddan, she sorrowed so that she cared not whether she lived or died. and manawyddan saw this. "thou art in the wrong," said he, "if through fear of me thou grievest thus. i call heaven to witness that thou hast never seen friendship more pure than that which i will bear thee as long as heaven will that thou shouldst be thus. i declare to thee, that, were i in the dawn of youth, i would keep my faith unto pryderi, and unto thee also will i keep it. be there no fear upon thee, therefore." "heaven reward thee!" she said; "and that is what i deemed of thee." and the damsel thereupon took courage, and was glad. "truly, lady," said manawyddan, "it is not fitting for us to stay here; we have lost our dogs, and cannot get food. let us go into england; it is easiest for us to find support there." "gladly, lord," said she, "we will do so." and they set forth together to england. "lord," said she, "what craft wilt thou follow? take up one that is seemly." "none other will i take," answered he, "but that of making shoes." "lord," said she, "such a craft becomes not a man so nobly born as thou." "by that however will i abide," said he. "i know nothing thereof," said kicva. "but i know," answered manawyddan, "and i will teach thee to stitch. we will not attempt to dress the leather, but we will buy it ready dressed, and will make the shoes from it." so they went into england, and went as far as hereford; and they betook themselves to making shoes. and he began by buying the best cordwain that could be had in the town, and none other would buy. and he associated himself with the best goldsmith in the town, and caused him to make clasps for the shoes, and to gild the clasps; and he marked how it was done until he learned the method. and therefore is he called one of the three makers of gold shoes. and when they could be had from him, not a shoe nor hose was bought of any of the cordwainers in the town. but when the cordwainers perceived that their gains were failing (for as manawyddan shaped the work, so kicva stitched it), they came together and took counsel, and agreed that they would slay them. and he had warning thereof, and it was told him how the cordwainers had agreed together to slay him. "lord," said kicva, "wherefore should this be borne from these boors?" "nay," said he, "we will go back unto dyved." so towards dyved they set forth. now manawyddan, when he set out to return to dyved, took with him a burden of wheat. and he proceeded towards narberth, and there he dwelt. and never was he better pleased than when he saw narberth again, and the lands where he had been wont to hunt with pryderi and with rhiannon. and he accustomed himself to fish, and to hunt the deer in their covert. and then he began to prepare some ground, and he sowed a croft, and a second, and a third. and no wheat in the world ever sprung up better. and the three crofts prospered with perfect growth, and no man ever saw fairer wheat than it. and thus passed the seasons of the year until the harvest came. and he went to look at one of his crofts, and, behold, it was ripe. "i will reap this to-morrow," said he. and that night he went back to narberth, and on the morrow, in the gray dawn, he went to reap the croft; and when he came there, he found nothing but the bare straw. every one of the ears of the wheat was cut off from the stalk, and all the ears carried entirely away, and nothing but the straw left. and at this he marvelled greatly. then he went to look at another croft, and, behold, that also was ripe. "verily," said he, "this will i reap to-morrow." and on the morrow he came with the intent to reap it; and when he came there, he found nothing but the bare straw. "o gracious heaven!" he exclaimed. "i know that whosoever has begun my ruin is completing it, and has also destroyed the country with me." then he went to look at the third croft; and when he came there, finer wheat had there never been seen, and this also was ripe. "evil betide me," said he, "if i watch not here to-night. whoever carried off the other corn will come in like manner to take this, and i will know who it is." and he told kicva all that had befallen. "verily," said she, "what thinkest thou to do?" "i will watch the croft to-night," said he. and he went to watch the croft. and at midnight he heard something stirring among the wheat; and he looked, and behold, the mightiest host of mice in the world, which could neither be numbered nor measured. and he knew not what it was until the mice had made their way into the croft, and each of them, climbing up the straw, and bending it down with its weight, had cut off one of the ears of wheat, and had carried it away, leaving there the stalk; and he saw not a single straw there that had not a mouse to it. and they all took their way, carrying the ears with them. in wrath and anger did he rush upon the mice; but he could no more come up with them than if they had been gnats or birds of the air, except one only, which, though it was but sluggish, went so fast that a man on foot could scarce overtake it. and after this one he went, and he caught it, and put it in his glove, and tied up the opening of the glove with a string, and kept it with him, and returned to the palace. then he came to the hall where kicva was, and he lighted a fire, and hung the glove by the string upon a peg. "what hast thou there, lord?" said kicva. "a thief," said he, "that i found robbing me." "what kind of a thief may it be, lord, that thou couldst put into thy glove?" said she. then he told her how the mice came to the last of the fields in his sight. "and one of them was less nimble than the rest, and is now in my glove; to- morrow i will hang it." "my lord," said she, "this is marvellous; but yet it would be unseemly for a man of dignity like thee to be hanging such a reptile as this." "woe betide me," said he, "if i would not hang them all, could i catch them, and such as i have i will hang." "verily, lord," said she, "there is no reason that i should succor this reptile, except to prevent discredit unto thee. do therefore, lord, as thou wilt." then he went to the mound of narberth, taking the mouse with him. and he set up two forks on the highest part of the mound. and while he was doing this, behold, he saw a scholar coming towards him, in old and poor and tattered garments. and it was now seven years since he had seen in that place either man or beast, except those four persons who had remained together until two of them were lost. "my lord," said the scholar, "good-day to thee." "heaven prosper thee, and my greeting be unto thee! and whence dost thou come, scholar?" asked he. "i come, lord, from singing in england; and wherefore dost thou inquire?" "because for the last seven years," answered he, "i have seen no man here save four secluded persons, and thyself this moment." "truly, lord," said he, "i go through this land unto mine own. and what work art thou upon, lord?" "i am hanging a thief that i caught robbing me," said he. "what manner of thief is that?" asked the scholar. "i see a creature in thy hand like unto a mouse, and ill does it become a man of rank equal to thine to touch a reptile such as this. let it go forth free." "i will not let it go free, by heaven," said he; "i caught it robbing me, and the doom of a thief will i inflict upon it, and i will hang it." "lord," said he, "rather than see a man of rank equal to thine at such a work as this, i would give thee a pound, which i have received as alms, to let the reptile go forth free." "i will not let it go free," said he, "neither will i sell it." "as thou wilt, lord," he answered; "i care naught." and the scholar went his way. and as he was placing the cross-beam upon the two forks, behold, a priest came towards him, upon a horse covered with trappings. "good day to thee, lord," said he. "heaven prosper thee!" said manawyddan; "thy blessing." "the blessing of heaven be upon thee! and what, lord, art thou doing?" "i am hanging a thief that i caught robbing me," said he. "what manner of thief, lord?" asked he. "a creature," he answered, "in form of a mouse. it has been robbing me, and i am inflicting upon it the doom of a thief." "lord," said he, "rather than see thee touch this reptile, i would purchase its freedom." "by my confession to heaven, neither will i sell it nor set it free." "it is true, lord, that it is worth nothing to buy; but rather than see thee defile thyself by touching such a reptile as this, i will give thee three pounds to let it go." "i will not, by heaven," said he, "take any price for it. as it ought, so shall it be hanged." and the priest went his way. then he noosed the string around the mouse's neck, and as he was about to draw it up, behold, he saw a bishop's retinue, with his sumpter-horses and his attendants. and the bishop himself came towards him. and he stayed his work. "lord bishop," said he, "thy blessing." "heaven's blessing be unto thee!" said he. "what work art thou upon?" "hanging a thief that i caught robbing me," said he. "is not that a mouse that i see in thy hand?" "yes," answered he, "and she has robbed me." "ay," said he, "since i have come at the doom of this reptile i will ransom it of thee. i will give thee seven pounds for it, and that rather than see a man of rank equal to thine destroying so vile a reptile as this. let it loose, and thou shalt have the money." "i declare to heaven that i will not let it loose." "if thou wilt not loose it for this, i will give thee four and twenty pounds of ready money to set it free." "i will not set it free, by heaven, for as much again," said he. "if thou wilt not set it free for this, i will give thee all the horses that thou seest in this plain, and the seven loads of baggage, and the seven horses that they are upon." "by heaven, i will not," he replied. "since for this thou wilt not set it free, do so at what price soever thou wilt." "i will that rhiannon and pryderi be free," said he. "that thou shalt have," he answered. "not yet will i loose the mouse, by heaven." "what then wouldst thou?" "that the charm and the illusion be removed from the seven cantrevs of dyved." "this shalt thou have also; set therefore the mouse free." "i will not set it free, by heaven," said he, "till i know who the mouse may be." "she is my wife." "wherefore came she to me?" "to despoil thee," he answered. "i am lloyd, the son of kilwed, and i cast the charm over the seven cantrevs of dyved. and it was to avenge gawl, the son of clud, from the friendship i had towards him, that i cast the charm. and upon pryderi did i avenge gawl, the son of clud, for the game of badger in the bag, that pwyll, the son of auwyn, played upon him. and when it was known that thou wast come to dwell in the land, my household came and besought me to transform them into mice, that they might destroy thy corn. and they went the first and the second night, and destroyed thy two crops. and the third night came unto me my wife and the ladies of the court, and besought me to transform them. and i transformed them. now she is not in her usual health. and had she been in her usual health, thou wouldst not have been able to overtake her; but since this has taken place, and she has been caught, i will restore to thee pryderi and rhiannon, and i will take the charm and illusion from off dyved. set her therefore free." "i will not set her free yet." "what wilt thou more?" he asked. "i will that there be no more charm upon the seven cantrevs of dyved, and that none shall be put upon it henceforth; moreover, that vengeance be never taken for this, either upon pryderi or rhiannon, or upon me." "all this shalt thou have. and truly thou hast done wisely in asking this. upon thy head would have lit all this trouble." "yea," said he, "for fear thereof was it that i required this." "set now my wife at liberty." "i will not," said he, "until i see pryderi and rhiannon with me free." "behold, here they come," he answered. and thereupon behold pryderi and rhiannon. and he rose up to meet them, and greeted them, and sat down beside them. "ah, chieftain, set now my wife at liberty," said the bishop. "hast thou not received all thou didst ask?" "i will release her, gladly," said he. and thereupon he set her free. then he struck her with a magic wand, and she was changed back into a young woman, the fairest ever seen. "look round upon thy land," said he, "and thou wilt see it all tilled and peopled as it was in its best estate." and he rose up and looked forth. and when he looked he saw all the lands tilled, and full of herds and dwellings. and thus ends this portion of the mabinogi. the following allusions to the preceding story are found in a letter of the poet southey to john rickman, esq., dated june th, : "you will read the mabinogeon, concerning which i ought to have talked to you. in the last, that most odd and arabian-like story of the mouse, mention is made of a begging scholar, that helps to the date; but where did the cymri get the imagination that could produce such a tale? that enchantment of the basin hanging by the chain from heaven is in the wildest spirit of the arabian nights. i am perfectly astonished that such fictions should exist in welsh. they throw no light on the origin of romance, everything being utterly dissimilar to what we mean by that term, but they do open a new world of fiction; and if the date of their language be fixed about the twelfth or thirteenth century, i cannot but think the mythological substance is of far earlier date; very probably brought from the east by some of the first settlers or conquerors." chapter xi kilwich and olwen kilydd, a son of prince kelyddon, desired a wife as a helpmate, and the wife that he chose was goleudid, the daughter of prince anlawd. and after their union the people put up prayers that they might have an heir. and they had a son through the prayers of the people; and called his name kilwich. after this the boy's mother, goleudid, the daughter of prince anlawd, fell sick. then she called her husband to her, and said to him, "of this sickness i shall die, and thou wilt take another wife. now wives are the gift of the lord, but it would be wrong for thee to harm thy son. therefore i charge thee that thou take not a wife until thou see a briar with two blossoms upon my grave." and this he promised her. then she besought him to dress her grave every year, that no weeds might grow thereon. so the queen died. now the king sent an attendant every morning to see if anything were growing upon the grave. and at the end of the seventh year they neglected that which they had promised to the queen. one day the king went to hunt; and he rode to the place of burial, to see the grave, and to know if it were time that he should take a wife: and the king saw the briar. and when he saw it, the king took counsel where he should find a wife. said one of his counsellors, "i know a wife that will suit thee well; and she is the wife of king doged." and they resolved to go to seek her; and they slew the king, and brought away his wife. and they conquered the kings' lands. and he married the widow of king doged, the sister of yspadaden penkawr. and one day his stepmother said to kilwich, "it were well for thee to have a wife." "i am not yet of an age to wed," answered the youth. then said she unto him, "i declare to thee that it is thy destiny not to be suited with a wife until thou obtain olwen, the daughter of yspadaden penkawr." and the youth blushed, and the love of the maiden diffused itself through all his frame, although he had never seen her. and his father inquired of him, "what has come over thee, my son, and what aileth thee?" "my stepmother has declared to me that i shall never have a wife until i obtain olwen, the daughter of yspadaden penkawr." "that will be easy for thee," answered his father. "arthur is thy cousin. go, therefore, unto arthur, to cut thy hair, and ask this of him as a boon." and the youth pricked forth upon a steed with head dappled gray, four winters old, firm of limb, with shell-formed hoofs, having a bridle of linked gold on his head, and upon him a saddle of costly gold. and in the youth's hand were two spears of silver, sharp, well-tempered, headed with steel, three ells in length, of an edge to wound the wind, and cause blood to flow, and swifter than the fall of the dew-drop from the blade of reed-grass, when the dew of june is at the heaviest. a gold-hilted sword was upon his thigh, the blade of which was gilded, bearing a cross of inlaid gold of the hue of the lightning of heaven. his war-horn was of ivory. before him were two brindled, white-breasted greyhounds, having strong collars of rubies about their necks, reaching from the shoulder to the ear. and the one that was upon the left side bounded across to the right side, and the one on the right to the left, and, like two sea-swallows, sported around him. and his courser cast up four sods, with his four hoofs, like four swallows in the air, about his head, now above, now below. about him was a four-cornered cloth of purple, and an apple of gold was at each corner, and every one of the apples was of the value of an hundred kine. and there was precious gold of the value of three hundred kine upon his shoes, and upon his stirrups, from his knee to the tip of his toe. and the blade of grass bent not beneath him, so light was his courser's tread, as he journeyed toward the gate of arthur's palace. spoke the youth: "is there a porter?" "there is; and if thou holdest not thy peace, small will be thy welcome. i am arthur's porter every first day of january." "open the portal." "i will not open it." "wherefore not?" "the knife is in the meat, and the drink is in the horn, and there is revelry in arthur's hall; and none may enter therein but the son of a king of a privileged country, or a craftsman bringing his craft. but there will be refreshment for thy dogs and for thy horse; and for thee there will be collops cooked and peppered, and luscious wine, and mirthful songs; and food for fifty men shall be brought unto thee in the guest-chamber, where the stranger and the sons of other countries eat, who come not into the precincts of the palace of arthur. thou wilt fare no worse there than thou wouldst with arthur in the court. a lady shall smooth thy couch, and shall lull thee with songs; and early to-morrow morning, when the gate is open for the multitude that came hither to-day, for thee shall it be opened first, and thou mayest sit in the place that thou shalt choose in arthur's hall, from the upper end to the lower." said the youth: "that will i not do. if thou openest the gate, it is well. if thou dost not open it, i will bring disgrace upon thy lord, and evil report upon thee. and i will set up three shouts at this very gate, than which none were ever heard more deadly." "what clamor soever thou mayest make," said glewlwyd, the porter, "against the laws of arthur's palace, shalt thou not enter therein, until i first go and speak with arthur." then glewlwyd went into the hall. and arthur said to him, "hast thou news from the gate?" "half of my life is passed," said glewlwyd, "and half of thine. i was heretofore in kaer se and asse, in sach and salach, in lotor and fotor, and i have been in india the great and india the lesser, and i have also been in europe and africa, and in the islands of corsica, and i was present when thou didst conquer greece in the east. nine supreme sovereigns, handsome men, saw we there, but never did i behold a man of equal dignity with him who is now at the door of the portal." then said arthur: "if walking thou didst enter here, return thou running. it is unbecoming to keep such a man as thou sayest he is in the wind and the rain." said kay: "by the hand of my friend, if thou wouldst follow my counsel, thou wouldst not break through the laws of the court because of him." "not so, blessed kay," said arthur; "it is an honor to us to be resorted to, and the greater our courtesy, the greater will be our renown and our fame and our glory." and glewlwyd came to the gate, and opened the gate before kilwich: and although all dismounted upon the horse-block at the gate, yet did he not dismount, but he rode in upon his charger. then said he, "greeting be unto thee, sovereign ruler of this island, and be this greeting no less unto the lowest than unto the highest, and be it equally unto thy guests, and thy warriors, and thy chieftains; let all partake of it as completely as thyself. and complete be thy favor, and thy fame, and thy glory, throughout all this island." "greeting unto thee also," said arthur; "sit thou between two of my warriors, and thou shalt have minstrels before thee, and thou shalt enjoy the privileges of a king born to a throne, as long as thou remainest here. and when i disperse my presents to the visitors and strangers in this court, they shall be in thy hand at my commencing." said the youth, "i came not here to consume meat and drink; but if i obtain the boon that i seek, i will requite it thee, and extol thee; but if i have it not, i will bear forth thy dispraise to the four quarters of the world, as far as thy renown has extended." then said arthur, "since thou wilt not remain here, chieftain, thou shalt receive the boon, whatsoever thy tongue may name, as far as the wind dries, and the rain moistens, and the sun revolves, and the sea encircles, and the earth extends; save only my ship prydwen, and my mantle, and caliburn, my sword, and rhongomyant, my lance, and guenever, my wife. by the truth of heaven, thou shalt have it cheerfuly, name what thou wilt." "i would that thou bless my hair," said he. "that shall be granted thee." and arthur took a golden comb, and scissors whereof the loops were of silver, and he combed his hair. and arthur inquired of him who he was; "for my heart warms unto thee, and i know that thou art come of my blood. tell me, therefore, who thou art." "i will tell thee," said the youth. "i am kilwich, the son of kilydd, the son of prince kelyddon, by goleudyd, my mother, the daughter of prince anlawd." "that is true," said arthur; "thou art my cousin. whatsoever boon thou mayest ask, thou shalt receive, be it what it may that thy tongue shall name." "pledge the truth of heaven and the faith of thy kingdom thereof." "i pledge it thee gladly." "i crave of thee, then, that thou obtain for me olwen, the daughter of yspadaden penkawr, to wife; and this boon i likewise seek at the hands of thy warriors. i seek it from kay and from bedwyr; and from gwynn, the son of nudd, and gadwy, the son of geraint, and prince flewddur flam and iona, king of france, and sel, the son of selgi, and taliesin, the chief of the bards, and geraint, the son of erbin, garanwyn, the son of kay, and amren, the son of bedwyr, ol, the son of olwyd, bedwin, the bishop, guenever, the chief lady, and guenhywach, her sister, morved, the daughter of urien, and gwenlian deg, the majestic maiden, creiddylad, [footnote: creiddylad is no other than shakspeare's cordelia, whose father, king lear, is by the welsh authorities called indiscriminately llyr or lludd. all the old chronicles give the story of her devotion to her aged parent, but none of them seem to have been aware that she is destined to remain with him till the day of doom, whilst gwyn ap nudd, the king of the fairies, and gwythyr op greidiol, fight for her every first of may, and whichever of them may be fortunate enough to be the conqueror at that time will obtain her as a bride.] the daughter of lludd, the constant maiden, and ewaedah, the daughter of kynvelyn, [footnote: the welsh have a fable on the subject of the half man, taken to be illustrative of the force of habit. in this allegory arthur is supposed to be met by a sprite, who appears at first in a small and indistinct form, but who, on approaching nearer, increases in size, and, assuming the semblance of half a man, endeavors to provoke the king to wrestle. despising his weakness, and considering that he should gain no credit by the encounter, arthur refuses to do so, and delays the contest until at length the half man (habit) becomes so strong that it requires his utmost efforts to overcome him.] the half-man." all these did kilwich, the son of kilydd, adjure to obtain his boon. then said arthur, "o chieftain, i have never heard of the maiden of whom thou speakest, nor of her kindred, but i will gladly send messengers in search of her. give me time to seek her." and the youth said, "i will willingly grant from this night to that at the end of the year to do so." then arthur sent messengers to every land within his dominions to seek for the maiden, and at the end of the year arthur's messengers returned without having gained any knowledge or intelligence concerning olwen, more than on the first day. then said kilwich, "every one has received his boon, and i yet lack mine. i will depart, and bear away thy honor with me." then said kay, "rash chieftain! dost thou reproach arthur? go with us, and we will not part until thou dost either confess that the maiden exists not in the world, or until we obtain her." thereupon kay rose up. and arthur called bedwyr, who never shrank from any enterprise upon which kay was bound. none were equal to him in swiftness throughout this island except arthur alone; and although he was one handed; three warriors could not shed blood faster than he on the field of battle. and arthur called to kyndelig, the guide, "go thou upon this expedition with the chieftain." for as good a guide was he in a land which he had never seen as he was in his own. he called gurhyr gwalstat, because he knew all tongues. he called gawain, the son of gwyar, because he never returned home without achieving the adventure of which he went in quest. and arthur called meneu, the son of teirgwed, in order that, if they went into a savage country, he might cast a charm and an illusion over them, so that none might see them, whilst they could see every one. they journeyed until they came to a vast open plain, wherein they saw a great castle, which was the fairest of the castles of the world. and when they came before the castle, they beheld a vast flock of sheep. and upon the top of a mound there was a herdsman keeping the sheep. and a rug made of skins was upon him, and by his side was a shaggy mastiff, larger than a steed nine winters old. then said kay, "gurhyr gwalstat, go thou and salute yonder man." "kay," said he, "i engaged not to go further than thou thyself." "let us go then together." answered kay. said meneu, "fear not to go thither, for i will cast a spell upon the dog, so that he shall injure no one." and they went up to the mound whereon the herdsman was, and they said to him, "how dost thou fare, herdsman?" "not less fair be it to you than to me." "whose are the sheep that thou dost keep, and to whom does yonder castle belong?" "stupid are ye, truly! not to know that this is the castle of yspadaden penkawr. and ye also, who are ye?" "we are an embassy from arthur, come to seek olwen, the daughter of yspadaden penkawr." "o men! the mercy of heaven be upon you; do not that for all the world. none who ever came hither on this quest has returned alive." and the herdsman rose up. and as he rose kilwich gave unto him a ring of gold. and he went home and gave the ring to his spouse to keep. and she took the ring when it was given her, and she said, "whence came this ring, for thou art not wont to have good fortune." "o wife, him to whom this ring belonged thou shalt see here this evening." "and who is he?" asked the woman. "kilwich, the son of kilydd, by goleudid, the daughter of prince anlawd, who is come to seek olwen as his wife." and when she heard that, she had joy that her nephew, the son of her sister, was coming to her, and sorrow, because she had never known any one depart alive who had come on that quest. and the men went forward to the gate of the herdsman's dwelling. and when she heard their footsteps approaching, she ran out with joy to meet them. and kay snatched a billet out of the pile. and when she met them, she sought to throw her arms about their necks. and kay placed the log between her two hands, and she squeezed it so that it became a twisted coil. "o woman," said kay, "if thou hadst squeezed me thus, none could ever again have set their affections on me. evil love were this." they entered into the house and were served; and soon after, they all went forth to amuse themselves. then the woman opened a stone chest that was before the chimney-corner, and out of it arose a youth with yellow, curling hair. said gurhyr, "it is a pity to hide this youth. i know that it is not his own crime that is thus visited upon him." "this is but a remnant," said the woman. "three and twenty of my sons has yspadaden penkawr slain, and i have no more hope of this one than of the others." then said kay, "let him come and be a companion with me, and he shall not be slain unless i also am slain with him." and they ate. and the woman asked them, "upon what errand come you here?" "we come to seek olwen for this youth." then said the woman, "in the name of heaven, since no one from the castle hath yet seen you, return again whence you came." "heaven is our witness, that we will not return until we have seen the maiden. does she ever come hither, so that she may be seen?" "she comes here every saturday to wash her head, and in the vessel where she washes she leaves all her rings, and she never either comes herself or sends any messengers to fetch them." "will she come here if she is sent to?" "heaven knows that i will not destroy my soul, nor will i betray those that trust me; unless you will pledge me your faith that you will not harm her, i will not send to her." "we pledge it," said they. so a message was sent, and she came. the maiden was clothed in a robe of flame-colored silk, and about her neck was a collar of ruddy gold, on which were precious emeralds and rubies. more yellow was her head than the flower of the broom, [footnote: the romancers dwell with great complacency on the fair hair and delicate complexion of their heroines. this taste continued for a long time, and to render the hair light was an object of education. even when wigs came into fashion they were all flaxen. such was the color of the hair of the gauls and of their german conquerors. it required some centuries to reconcile their eyes to the swarthy beauties of their spanish and italian neighbors.] and her skin was whiter than the foam of the wave, and fairer were her hands and her fingers than the blossoms of the wood-anemone amidst the spray of the meadow fountain. the eye of the trained hawk was not brighter than hers. her bosom was more snowy than the breast of the white swan, her cheek was redder than the reddest roses. whoso beheld her was filled with her love. four white trefoils sprung up wherever she trod. and therefore was she called olwen. she entered the house and sat beside kilwich upon the foremost bench; and as soon as he saw her, he knew her. and kilwich said unto her, "ah! maiden, thou art she whom i have loved; come away with me, lest they speak evil of thee and of me. many a day have i loved thee." "i cannot do this, for i have pledged my faith to my father not to go without his counsel, for his life will last only until the time of my espousals. whatever is to be, must be. but i will give thee advice, if thou wilt take it. go, ask me of my father, and that which he shall require of thee, grant it, and thou wilt obtain me; but if thou deny him anything, thou wilt not obtain me, and it will be well for thee if thou escape with thy life." "i promise all this, if occasion offer," said he. she returned to her chamber, and they all rose up, and followed her to the castle. and they slew the nine porters, that were at the nine gates, in silence. and they slew the nine watch-dogs without one of them barking. and they went forward to the hall. "the greeting of heaven and of man be unto thee, yspadaden penkawr," said they. "and you, wherefore come you?" "we come to ask thy daughter olwen for kilwich, the son of kilydd, the son of prince kelyddon." "where are my pages and my servants? raise up the forks beneath my two eyebrows, which have fallen over my eyes, that i may see the fashion of my son-in-law." and they did so. "come hither to-morrow, and you shall have an answer." they rose to go forth, and yspadaden penkawr seized one of the three poisoned darts that lay beside him, and threw it after them. and bedwyr caught it, and flung it, and pierced yspadaden penkawr grievously with it through the knee. then he said, "a cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly! i shall ever walk the worse for his rudeness, and shall ever be without a cure. this poisoned iron pains me like the bite of a gad-fly. cursed be the smith who forged it, and the anvil on which it was wrought! so sharp is it!" that night also they took up their abode in the house of the herdsman. the next day, with the dawn, they arrayed themselves and proceeded to the castle, and entered the hall; and they said, "yspadaden penkawr, give us thy daughter in consideration of her dower and her maiden fee, which we will pay to thee, and to her two kinswomen likewise." then he said, "her four great- grandmothers and her four great-grandsires are yet alive; it is needful that i take counsel of them." "be it so," they answered, "we will go to meat." as they rose up he took the second dart that was beside him, and cast it after them. and meneu, the son of gawedd, caught it, and flung it back at him, and wounded him in the centre of the breast. "a cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly!" said he; "the hard iron pains me like the bite of a horse-leech. cursed be the hearth whereon it was heated, and the smith who formed it! so sharp is it! henceforth, whenever i go up hill, i shall have a scant in my breath, and a pain in my chest, and i shall often loathe my food." and they went to meat. and the third day they returned to the palace. and yspadaden penkawr said to them, "shoot not at me again unless you desire death. where are my attendants? lift up the forks of my eyebrows, which have fallen over my eyeballs, that i may see the fashion of my son-in-law." then they arose, and, as they did so, yspadaden penkawr took the third poisoned dart and cast it at them. and kilwich caught it, and threw it vigorously, and wounded him through the eyeball. "a cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly! as long as i remain alive, my eyesight will be the worse. whenever i go against the wind, my eyes will water; and peradventure my head will burn, and i shall have a giddiness every new moon. like the bite of a mad dog is the stroke of this poisoned iron. cursed be the fire in which it was forged!" and they went to meat. and the next day they came again to the palace, and they said, "shoot not at us any more, unless thou desirest such hurt and harm and torture as thou now hast, and even more." said kilwich, "give me thy daughter; and if thou wilt not give her, thou shalt receive thy death because of her." "where is he that seeks my daughter? come hither where i may see thee." and they placed him a chair face to face with him. said yspadaden penkawr, "is it thou that seekest my daughter?" "it is i," answered kilwich. "i must have thy pledge that thou wilt not do toward me otherwise than is just; and when i have gotten that which i shall name, my daughter thou shalt have." "i promise thee that willingly," said kilwich; "name what thou wilt." "i will do so," said he. "seest thou yonder red tilled ground?" "i see it." "when first i met the mother of this maiden, nine bushels of flax were sown therein, and none has yet sprung up, white nor black. i require to have the flax to sow in the new land yonder, that when it grows up it may make a white wimple for my daughter's head on the day of thy wedding." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think it will not be easy." "though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get-- the harp of teirtu, to play to us that night. when a man desires that it should play, it does so of itself; and when he desires that it should cease, it ceases. and this he will not give of his own free will, and thou wilt not be able to compel him." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think it will not be easy." "though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get. i require thee to get me for my huntsman mabon, the son of modron. he was taken from his mother when three nights old, and it is not known where he now is, nor whether he is living or dead." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think it will not be easy." "though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get-- the two cubs of the wolf gast rhymhi; no leash in the world will hold them, but a leash made from the beard of dillus varwawc, the robber. and the leash will be of no avail unless it be plucked from his beard while he is alive. while he lives he will not suffer this to be done to him, and the leash will be of no use should he be dead, because it will be brittle." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think it will not be easy." "though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get-- the sword of gwernach the giant; of his own free will he will not give it, and thou wilt never be able to compel him." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think it will not be easy." "though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get. difficulties shalt thou meet with, and nights without sleep, in seeking this, and if thou obtain it not, neither shalt thou obtain my daughter." "horses shall i have, and chivalry; and my lord and kinsman, arthur, will obtain for me all these things. and i shall gain thy daughter, and thou shalt lose thy life." "go forward. and thou shalt not be chargeable for food or raiment for my daughter while thou art seeking these things; and when thou hast compassed all these marvels, thou shalt have my daughter for thy wife." chapter xii kilwich and olwen (continued) all that day they journeyed until the evening, and then they beheld a vast castle, which was the largest in the world. and lo! a black man, larger than three of the men of this world, came out from the castle. and they spoke unto him, and said, "o man, whose castle is that?" "stupid are ye, truly, o men! there is no one in the world that does not know that this is the castle of gwernach the giant." "what treatment is there for guests and strangers that alight in that castle?" "o chieftain, heaven protect thee! no guests ever returned thence alive, and no one may enter therein unless he brings with him his craft." then they proceeded towards the gate. said gurhyr gwalstat, "is there a porter?" "there is; wherefore dost thou call?" "open the gate." "i will not open it." "wherefore wilt thou not?" "the knife is in the meat, and the drink is in the horn, and there is revelry in the hall of gwernach the giant; and except for a craftsman who brings his craft, the gate will not be opened to-night." "verily, porter," then said kay, "my craft bring i with me." "what is thy craft?" "the best burnisher of swords am i in the world." "i will go and tell this unto gwernach the giant, and i will bring thee an answer." so the porter went in, and gwernach said to him, "hast thou news from the gate?" "i have. there is a party at the door of the gate who desire to come in." "didst thou inquire of them if they possessed any art?" "i did inquire," said he, "and one told me that he was well skilled in the burnishing of swords." "we have need of him then. for some time have i sought for some one to polish my sword, and could find no one. let this man enter, since he brings with him his craft." the porter thereupon returned and opened the gate. and kay went in by himself, and he saluted gwernach the giant. and a chair was placed for him opposite to gwernach. and gwernach said to him, "o man, is it true that is reported of thee, that thou knowest how to burnish swords?" "i know full well how to do so," answered kay. then was the sword of gwernach brought to him. and kay took a blue whetstone from under his arm, and asked whether he would have it burnished white or blue. "do with it as it seems good to thee, or as thou wouldst if it were thine own." then kay polished one half of the blade, and put it in his hand. "will this please thee?" asked he. "i would rather than all that is in my dominions that the whole of it were like this. it is a marvel to me that such a man as thou should be without a companion." "o noble sir, i have a companion, albeit he is not skilled in this art." "who may he be?" "let the porter go forth, and i will tell him whereby he may know him. the head of his lance will leave its shaft, and draw blood from the wind, and will descend upon its shaft again." then the gate was opened, and bedwyr entered. and kay said, "bedwyr is very skilful, though he knows not this art." and there was much discourse among those who were without, because that kay and bedwyr had gone in. and a young man who was with them, the only son of the herdsman, got in also; and he contrived to admit all the rest, but they kept themselves concealed. the sword was now polished, and kay gave it unto the hand of gwernach the giant, to see if he were pleased with his work. and the giant said, "the work is good; i am content therewith." said kay, "it is thy scabbard that hath rusted thy sword; give it to me, that i may take out the wooden sides of it, and put in new ones." and he took the scabbard from him, and the sword in the other hand. and he came and stood over against the giant, as if he would have put the sword into the scabbard; and with it he struck at the head of the giant, and cut off his head at one blow. then they despoiled the castle, and took from it what goods and jewels they would. and they returned to arthur's court, bearing with them the sword of gwernach the giant. and when they told arthur how they had sped, arthur said, "it is a good beginning." then they took counsel, and said, "which of these marvels will it be best for us to seek next?" "it will be best," said one, "to seek mabon, the son of modron; and he will not be found unless we first find eidoel, the son of aer, his kinsman." then arthur rose up, and the warriors of the island of britain with him, to seek for eidoel; and they proceeded until they came to the castle of glivi, where eidoel was imprisoned. glivi stood on the summit of his castle, and he said, "arthur, what requirest thou of me, since nothing remains to me in this fortress, and i have neither joy nor pleasure in it, neither wheat nor oats? seek not, therefore, to do me harm." said arthur, "not to injure thee came i hither, but to seek for the prisoner that is with thee." "i will give thee my prisoner, though i had not thought to give him up to any one, and therewith shalt thou have my support and my aid." his followers said unto arthur, "lord, go thou home, thou canst not proceed with thy host in quest of such small adventures as these." then said arthur, "it were well for thee, gurhyr gwalstat, to go upon this quest, for thou knowest all languages, and art familiar with those of the birds and the beasts. thou, eidoel, oughtest likewise to go with thy men in search of thy cousin. and as for you, kay and bedwyr, i have hope of whatever adventure ye are in quest of, that ye will achieve it. achieve ye this adventure for me." they went forward until they came to the ousel of cilgwri. and gurhyr adjured her, saying, "tell me if thou knowest aught of mabon, the son of modron, who was taken when three nights old from between his mother and the wall?" and the ousel answered, "when i first came here, there was a smith's anvil in this place, and i was then a young bird; and from that time no work has been done upon it, save the pecking of my beak every evening; and now there is not so much as the size of a nut remaining thereof; yet during all that time i have never heard of the man for whom you inquire. nevertheless, i will do that which it is fitting that i should for an embassy from arthur. there is a race of animals who were formed before me, and i will be your guide to them." so they proceeded to the place where was the stag of redynvre. "stag of redynvre, behold, we are come to thee, an embassy from arthur, for we have not heard of any animal older than thou. say, knowest thou aught of mabon, the son of modron, who was taken from his mother when three nights old?" the stag said, "when first i came hither there was a plain all around me, without any trees save one oak sapling, which grew up to be an oak with an hundred branches; and that oak has since perished, so that now nothing remains of it but the withered stump; and from that day to this i have been here, yet have i never heard of the man for whom you inquire. nevertheless, being an embassy from arthur, i will be your guide to the place where there is an animal which was formed before i was, and the oldest animal in the world, and the one that has travelled most, the eagle of gwern abwy." gurhyr said, "eagle of gwern abwy, we have come to thee, an embassy from arthur, to ask thee if thou knowest aught of mabon, the son of modron, who was taken from his mother when he was three nights old?" the eagle said, "i have been here for a great space of time, and when i first came hither, there was a rock here from the top of which i pecked at the stars every evening; and it has crumbled away, and now it is not so much as a span high. all that time i have been here, and i have never heard of the man for whom you inquire, except once when i went in search of food as far as llyn llyw. and when i came there, i struck my talons into a salmon, thinking he would serve me as food for a long time. but he drew me into the water, and i was scarcely able to escape from him. after that i made peace with him. and i drew fifty fish- spears out of his back, and relieved him. unless he know something of him whom you seek, i cannot tell who may. however, i will guide you to the place where he is." so they went thither; and the eagle said, "salmon of llyn llyw, i have come to thee with an embassy from arthur, to ask thee if thou knowest aught of mabon, the son of modron, who was taken away at three nights old from his mother." "as much as i know i will tell thee. with every tide i go along the river upward, until i come near to the walls of gloucester, and there have i found such wrong as i never found elsewhere; and to the end that ye may give credence thereto, let one of you go thither upon each of my two shoulders." so kay and gurhyr gwalstat went upon the two shoulders of the salmon, and they proceeded until they came unto the wall of the prison; and they heard a great wailing and lamenting from the dungeon. said gurhyr, "who is it that laments in this house of stone?" "alas! it is mabon, the son of modron, who is here imprisoned; and no imprisonment was ever so grievous as mine." "hast thou hope of being released for gold or for silver, or for any gifts of wealth, or through battle and fighting?" "by fighting will what ever i may gain be obtained." then they went thence, and returned to arthur, and they told him where mabon, the son of modron, was imprisoned. and arthur summoned the warriors of the island, and they journeyed as far as gloucester, to the place where mabon was in prison. kay and bedwyr went upon the shoulders of the fish, whilst the warriors of arthur attacked the castle. and kay broke through the wall into the dungeon, and brought away the prisoner upon his back, whilst the fight was going on between the warriors. and arthur returned home, and mabon with him at liberty. on a certain day as gurhyr gwalstat was walking over a mountain, he heard a wailing and a grievous cry. and when he heard it, he sprang forward and went towards it. and when he came there, he saw a fire burning among the turf, and an ant-hill nearly surrounded with the fire. and he drew his sword, and smote off the ant-hill close to the earth, so that it escaped being burned in the fire. and the ants said to him, "receive from us the blessing of heaven, and that which no man can give, we give thee." then they fetched the nine bushels of flax-seed which yspadaden penkawr had required of kilwich, and they brought the full measure, without lacking any, except one flax-seed, and that the lame pismire brought in before night. then said arthur, "which of the marvels will it be best for us to seek next?" "it will be best to seek for the two cubs of the wolf gast rhymhi." "is it known," said arthur, "where she is?" "she is in aber cleddyf," said one. then arthur went to the house of tringad, in aber cleddyf, and he inquired of him whether he had heard of her there. "she has often slain my herds, and she is there below in a cave in aber cleddyf." ther arthur went in his ship prydwen by sea, and the others went by land to hunt her. and they surrounded her and her two cubs, and took them and carried them away. as kay and bedwyr sat on a beacon-cairn on the summit of plinlimmon, in the highest wind that ever was, they looked around them and saw a great smoke, afar off. then said kay, "by the hand of my friend, yonder is the fire of a robber." then they hastened towards the smoke, and they came so near to it that they could see dillus varwawc scorching a wild boar. "behold, yonder is the greatest robber that ever fled from arthur," said bedwyr to kay. "dost thou know him?" "i do know him," answered kay; "he is dillus varwarc, and no leash in the world will be able to hold the cubs of gast rhymi, save a leash made from the beard of him thou seest yonder. and even that will be useless unless his beard be plucked out alive, with wooden tweezers; for if dead it will be brittle." "what thinkest thou that we should do concerning this?" said bedwyr. "let us suffer him." said kay, "to eat as much as he will of the meat, and after that he will fall asleep." and during that time they employed themselves in making the wooden tweezers. and when kay knew certainly that he was asleep, he made a pit under his feet, and he struck him a violent blow, and squeezed him into the pit. and there they twitched out his beard completely with the wooden tweezers, and after that they slew him altogether. and from thence they went, and took the leash made of dillus varwawc's beard, and they gave it into arthur's hand. thus they got all the marvels that yspadaden penkawr had required of kilwich; and they set forward, and took the marvels to his court. and kilwich said to yspadaden penkawr, "is thy daughter mine now?" "she is thine," said he, "but therefore needest thou not thank me, but arthur, who hath accomplished this for thee." then goreu, the son of custennin, the herdsman, whose brothers yspadaden penkawr had slain, seized him by the hair of his head, and dragged him after him to the keep, and cut off his head, and placed it on a stake on the citadel. then they took possession of his castle, and of his treasures. and that night olwen became kilwich's bride, and she continued to be his wife as long as she lived. chapter xiii taliesin gwyddno garanhir was sovereign of gwaelod, a territory bordering on the sea. and he possessed a weir upon the strand between dyvi and aberystwyth, near to his own castle, and the value of an hundred pounds was taken in that weir every may eve. and gwyddno had an only son named elphin, the most hapless of youths, and the most needy. and it grieved his father sore, for he thought that he was born in an evil hour. by the advice of his council, his father had granted him the drawing of the weir that year, to see if good luck would ever befall him, and to give him something wherewith to begin the world. and this was on the twenty-ninth of april. the next day, when elphin went to look, there was nothing in the weir but a leathern bag upon a pole of the weir. then said the weir-ward unto elphin, "all thy ill-luck aforetime was nothing to this; and now thou hast destroyed the virtues of the weir, which always yielded the value of an hundred pounds every may eve; and to-night there is nothing but this leathern skin within it." "how now," said elphin, "there may be therein the value of a hundred pounds." well! they took up the leathern bag, and he who opened it saw the forehead of an infant, the fairest that ever was seen; and he said, "behold a radiant brow?" (in the welsh language, taliesin.) "taliesin be he called," said elphin. and he lifted the bag in his arms, and, lamenting his bad luck, placed the boy sorrowfully behind him. and he made his horse amble gently, that before had been trotting, and he carried him as softly as if he had been sitting in the easiest chair in the world. and presently the boy made a consolation, and praise to elphin; and the consolation was as you may here see: "fair elphin, cease to lament! never in gwyddno's weir was there such good luck as this night. being sad will not avail; better to trust in god than to forbode ill; weak and small as i am, on the foaming beach of the ocean, in the day of trouble i shall be of more service to thee than three hundred salmon." this was the first poem that taliesin ever sung, being to console elphin in his grief for that the produce of the weir was lost, and what was worse, that all the world would consider that it was through his fault and ill-luck. then elphin asked him what he was, whether man or spirit. and he sung thus: "i have been formed a comely person; although i am but little, i am highly gifted; into a dark leathern bag i was thrown, and on a boundless sea i was sent adrift. from seas and from mountains god brings wealth to the fortunate man." then came elphin to the house of gwyddno, his father, and taliesin with him. gwyddno asked him if he had had a good haul at the weir, and he told him that he had got that which was better than fish. "what was that?" said gwyddno. "a bard," said elphin. then said gwyddno, "alas! what will he profit thee?" and taliesin himself replied and said, "he will profit him more than the weir ever profited thee." asked gwyddno, "art thou able to speak, and thou so little?" and taliesin answered him, "i am better able to speak than thou to question me." "let me hear what thou canst say," quoth gwyddno. then taliesin sang: "three times have i been born, i know by meditation; all the sciences of the world are collected in my breast, for i know what has been, and what hereafter will occur." elphin gave his haul to his wife, and she nursed him tenderly and lovingly. thenceforward elphin increased in riches more and more, day after day, and in love and favor with the king; and there abode taliesin until he was thirteen years old, when elphin, son of gwyddno, went by a christmas invitation to his uncle, maelgan gwynedd, who held open court at christmas-tide in the castle of dyganwy, for all the number of his lords of both degrees, both spiritual and temporal, with a vast and thronged host of knights and squires. and one arose and said, "is there in the whole world a king so great as maelgan, or one on whom heaven has bestowed so many gifts as upon him;--form, and beauty, and meekness, and strength, besides all the powers of the soul?" and together with these they said that heaven had given one gift that exceeded all the others, which was the beauty, and grace, and wisdom, and modesty of his queen, whose virtues surpassed those of all the ladies and noble maidens throughout the whole kingdom. and with this they put questions one to another, who had braver men? who had fairer or swifter horses or greyhounds? who had more skilful or wiser bards than maelgan? when they had all made an end of their praising the king and his gifts, it befell that elphin spoke on this wise. "of a truth, none but a king may vie with a king; but were he not a king, i would say that my wife was as virtuous as any lady in the kingdom, and also that i have a bard who is more skilful than all the king's bards." in a short space some of his fellows told the king all the boastings of elphin; and the king ordered him to be thrown into a strong prison, until he might show the truth as to the virtues of his wife, and the wisdom of his bard. now when elphin had been put in a tower of the castle, with a thick chain about his feet (it is said that it was a silver chain, because he was of royal blood), the king, as the story relates, sent his son rhun to inquire into the demeanor of elphin's wife. now rhun was the most graceless man in the world, and there was neither wife nor maiden with whom he held converse but was evil spoken of. while rhun went in haste towards elphin's dwelling, being fully minded to bring disgrace upon his wife, taliesin told his mistress how that the king had placed his master in durance in prison, and how that rhun was coming in haste to strive to bring disgrace upon her. wherefore he caused his mistress to array one of the maids of her kitchen in her apparel; which the noble lady gladly did, and she loaded her hands with the best rings that she and her husband possessed. in this guise taliesin caused his mistress to put the maiden to sit at the board in her room at supper; and he made her to seem as her mistress, and the mistress to seem as the maid. and when they were in due time seated at their supper, in the manner that has been said, rhun suddenly arrived at elphin's dwelling, and was received with joy, for the servants knew him; and they brought him to the room of their mistress, in the semblance of whom the maid rose up from supper and welcomed him gladly. and afterwards she sat down to supper again, and rhun with her. then rhun began jesting with the maid, who still kept the semblance of her mistress. and verily this story shows that the maiden became so intoxicated that she fell asleep; and the story relates that it was a powder that rhun put into the drink, that made her sleep so soundly that she never felt it when he cut off from her hand her little finger, whereon was the signet ring of elphin, which he had sent to his wife as a token a short time before. and rhun returned to the king with the finger and the ring as a proof, to show that he had cut it off from her hand without her awaking from her sleep of intemperance. the king rejoiced greatly at these tidings, and he sent for his councillors, to whom he told the whole story from the beginning. and he caused elphin to be brought out of prison, and he chided him because of his boast. and he spake on this wise: "elphin, be it known to thee beyond a doubt, that it is but folly for a man to trust in the virtues of his wife further than he can see her; and that thou mayest be certain of thy wife's vileness, behold her finger, with thy signet ring upon it, which was cut from her hand last night, while she slept the sleep of intoxication." then thus spake elphin: "with thy leave, mighty king, i cannot deny my ring, for it is known of many; but verily i assert that the finger around which it is was never attached to the hand of my wife; for in truth and certainty there are three notable things pertaining to it, none of which ever belonged to any of my wife's fingers. the first of the three is, that it is certainly known to me that this ring would never remain upon her thumb, whereas you can plainly see that it is hard to draw it over the joint of the little finger of the hand whence this was cut. the second thing is, that my wife has never let pass one saturday since i have known her, without paring her nails before going to bed, and you can see fully that the nail of this little finger has not been pared for a month. the third is, truly, that the hand whence this finger came was kneading rye dough within three days before the finger was cut therefrom, and i can assure your highness that my wife has never kneaded rye dough since my wife she has been." the king was mightily wroth with elphin for so stoutly withstanding him, respecting the goodness of his wife; wherefore he ordered him to his prison a second time, saying that he should not be loosed thence until he had proved the truth of his boast, as well concerning the wisdom of his bard as the virtues of his wife. in the meantime his wife and taliesin remained joyful at elphin's dwelling. and taliesin showed his mistress how that elphin was in prison because of them; but he bade her be glad, for that he would go to maelgan's court to free his master. so he took leave of his mistress, and came to the court of maelgan, who was going to sit in his hall, and dine in his royal state, as it was the custom in those days for kings and princes to do at every chief feast. as soon as taliesin entered the hall he placed himself in a quiet corner, near the place where the bards and the minstrels were wont to come, in doing their service and duty to the king, as is the custom at the high festivals, when the bounty is proclaimed. so, when the bards and the heralds came to cry largess, and to proclaim the power of the king, and his strength, at the moment when they passed by the corner wherein he was crouching, taliesin pouted out his lips after them, and played "blerwm, blerwm!" with his finger upon his lips. neither took they much notice of him as they went by but proceeded forward till they came before the king, unto whom they made their obeisance with their bodies, as they were wont, without speaking a single word, but pouting out their lips, and making mouths at the king, playing, "blerwm, blerwm!" upon their lips with their fingers, as they had seen the boy do. this sight caused the king to wonder, and to deem within himself that they were drunk with many liquors. wherefore he commanded one of his lords, who served at the board, to go to them and desire them to collect their wits, and to consider where they stood, and what it was fitting for them to do. and this lord did so gladly. but they ceased not from their folly any more than before. whereupon he sent to them a second time, and a third, desiring them to go forth from the hall. at the last the king ordered one of his squires to give a blow to the chief of them, named heinin vardd; and the squire took a broom and struck him on the head, so that he fell back in his seat. then he arose, and went on his knees, and besought leave of the king's grace to show that this their fault was not through want of knowledge, neither through drunkenness, but by the influence of some spirit that was in the hall. and he spoke on this wise: "o honorable king, be it known to your grace that not from the strength of drink, or of too much liquor, are we dumb, but through the influence of a spirit that sits in the corner yonder, in the form of a child." forthwith the king commanded the squire to fetch him; and he went to the nook where taliesin sat, and brought him before the king, who asked him what he was, and whence he came. and he answered the king in verse: "primary chief bard am i to elphin, and my native country is the region of the summer stars; i have been in asia with noah in the ark, i have seen the destruction of sodom and gomorrah, i was in india when rome was built, i have now come here to the remnant of troia." when the king and his nobles had heard the song, they wondered much, for they had never heard the like from a boy so young as he. and when the king knew that he was the bard of elphin he bade heinin, his first and wisest bard, to answer taliesin, and to strive with him. but when he came he could do no other than play "blerwm!" on his lips; and when he sent for the others of the four and twenty bards, they all did likewise, and could do no other. and maelgan asked the boy taliesin what was his errand, and he answered him in song: "elphin, the son of gwyddno, is in the land of artro, secured by thirteen locks, for praising his instructor. therefore i, taliesin, chief of the bards of the west, will loosen elphin out of a golden fetter." then he sang to them a riddle: "discover thou what is the strong creature from before the flood, without flesh, without bone, without vein, without blood, without head, without feet; it will neither be older nor younger than at the beginning. behold how the sea whitens when first it comes, when it comes from the south, when it strikes on coasts it is in the field, it is in the wood, but the eye cannot perceive it. one being has prepared it, by a tremendous blast, to wreak vengeance on maelgan gwynedd." while he was thus singing his verse, there arose a mighty storm of wind, so that the king and all his nobles thought that the castle would fall upon their heads. and the king caused them to fetch elphin in haste from his dungeon, and placed him before taliesin. and it is said that immediately he sung a verse, so that the chains opened from about his feet. after that taliesin brought elphin's wife before them, and showed that she had not one finger wanting. and in this manner did he set his master free from prison, and protect the innocence of his mistress, and silence the bards so that not one of them dared to say a word. right glad was elphin, right glad was taliesin. hero myths of the british race beowulf notable among the names of heroes of the british race is that of beowulf, which appeals to all english-speaking people in a very special way, since he is the one hero in whose story we may see the ideals of our english forefathers before they left their continental home to cross to the islands of britain. although this hero had distinguished himself by numerous feats of strength during his boyhood and early youth, it was as the deliverer of hrothgar, king of denmark, from the monster grendel that he first gained wide renown. grendel was half monster and half man, and had his abode in the fen-fastnesses in the vicinity of hrothgar's residence. night after night he would steal into the king's great palace called heorot and slay sometimes as many as thirty at one time of the knights sleeping there. beowulf put himself at the head of a selected band of warriors, went against the monster, and after a terrible fight slew it. the following night grendel's mother, a fiend scarcely less terrible than her son, carried off one of hrothgar's boldest thanes. once more beowulf went to the help of the danish king, followed the she-monster to her lair at the bottom of a muddy lake in the midst of the swamp, and with his good sword hrunting and his own muscular arms broke the sea-woman's neck. upon his return to his own country of the geats, loaded with honors bestowed upon him by hrothgar, beowulf served the king of geatland as the latter's most trusted counsellor and champion. when, after many years, the king fell before an enemy, the geats unanimously chose beowulf for their new king. his fame as a warrior kept his country free from invasion, and his wisdom as a statesman increased its prosperity and happiness. in the fiftieth year of beowulf's reign, however, a great terror fell upon the land in the way of a monstrous fire-dragon, which flew forth by night from its den in the rocks, lighting up the blackness with its blazing breath, and burning houses and homesteads, men and cattle, with the flames from its mouth. when the news came to beowulf that his people were suffering and dying, and that no warrior dared to risk his life in an effort to deliver the country from this deadly devastation, the aged king took up his shield and sword and went forth to his last fight. at the entrance of the dragon's cave beowulf raised his voice and shouted a furious defiance to the awesome guardian of the den. roaring hideously and napping his glowing wings together, the dragon rushed forth and half flew, half sprang, on beowulf. then began a fearful combat, which ended in beowulf's piercing the dragon's scaly armor and inflicting a mortal wound, but alas! in himself being given a gash in the neck by his opponent's poisoned fangs which resulted in his death. as he lay stretched on the ground, his head supported by wiglaf, an honored warrior who had helped in the fight with the dragon, beowulf roused himself to say, as he grasped wiglaf's hand: "thou must now look to the needs of the nation; here dwell i no longer, for destiny calleth me! bid thou my warriors after my funeral pyre build me a burial-cairn high on the sea-cliff's head; so that the seafarers beowulf's barrow henceforth shall name it, they who drive far and wide over the mighty flood their foamy keels. thou art the last of all the kindred of wagmund! wyrd has swept all my kin, all the brave chiefs away! now must i follow them!" these last words spoken, the king of the geats, brave to seek danger and brave to look on death and fate undaunted, fell back dead. according to his last desires, his followers gathered wood and piled it on the cliff-head. upon this funeral pyre was laid beowulf's body and consumed to ashes. then, upon the same cliff of hronesness, was erected a huge burial cairn, wide-spread and lofty, to be known thereafter as beowulf's barrow. cuchulain, champion of ireland among all the early literatures of europe, there are two which, at exactly opposite corners of the continent, display most strikingly similar characteristics. these are the greek and the irish, and the legend of the irish champion cuchulain, which well illustrates the similarity of the literatures, bears so close a resemblance to the story of achilles as to win for this hero the title of "the irish achilles." certainly in reckless courage, power of inspiring dread, sense of personal merit, and frankness of speech the irish hero is fully equal to the mighty greek. cuchulain was the nephew of king conor of ulster, son of his sister dechtire, and it is said that his father was no mortal man, but the great god lugh of the long hand. cuchulain was brought up by king conor himself, and even while he was still a boy his fame spread all over ireland. his warlike deeds were those of a proved warrior, not of a child of nursery age; and by the time cuchulain was seventeen he was without peer among the champions of ulster. upon cuchulain's marriage to emer, daughter of forgall the wily, a druid of great power, the couple took up their residence at armagh, the capital of ulster, under the protection of king conor. here there was one chief, bricriu of the bitter tongue, who, like thersites among the grecian leaders, delighted in making mischief. soon he had on foot plans for stirring up strife among the heroes of ulster, leaders among whom were the mighty laegaire, conall cearnach, cousin of cuchulain, and cuchulain himself. inviting the members of king conor's court to dinner, bricriu arranged that a contest should arise over who should have the "champion's portion," and so successful was he that, to avoid a bloody fight, the three heroes mentioned decided to submit their claims to the championship of ireland to king ailill of connaught. ailill put the heroes to an unexpected test. their dinner was served them in a separate room, into which three magic beasts, in the shape of monstrous cats, were sent by the king. when they saw them laegire and conall rose from their meal, climbed among the rafters, and stayed there all night. cuchulain waited until one cat attacked him, and then, drawing his sword, struck the monster. it showed no further sign of fight, and at daybreak the magic beasts disappeared. as laegire and conall claimed that this test was an unfair one, ailill sent the three rivals to curoi of kerry, a just and wise man, who set out to discover by wizardry and enchantments the best among the heroes. in turn they stood watch outside curoi's castle, where laegire and conall were overcome by a huge giant, who hurled spears of mighty oak trees, and ended by throwing them over the wall into the courtyard. cuchulain alone withstood the giant, whereupon he was attacked by other magic foes. among these was a dragon, which flew on horrible wings from a neighboring lake, and seemed ready to devour everything in its way. cuchulain sprang up, giving his wonderful hero-leap, thrust his arm into the dragon's mouth and down its throat, and tore out its heart. after the monster fell dead, he cut off its scaly head. as even yet cuchulain's opponents would not admit his championship, they were all three directed to return to armagh, to await curoi's judgment. here it happened that all the ulster heroes were in the great hall one night, except cuchulain and his cousin conall. as they sat in order of rank, a terrible stranger, gigantic in stature, hideous of aspect, with ravening yellow eyes, entered. in his hand he bore an enormous axe, with keen and shining edge. upon king conor's inquiring his business there, the stranger replied: "behold my axe! the man who will grasp it to-day may cut my head off with it, provided that i may, in like manner, cut off his head to-morrow. if you have no champion who dare face me, i will say that ulster has lost her courage and is dishonored." at once laegire accepted the challenge. the giant laid his head on a block, and at a blow the hero severed it from the body. thereupon the giant arose, took the head and the axe, and thus, headless, strode from the hall. but the following night, when he returned, sound as ever, to claim the fulfilment of laegire's promise, the latter's heart failed him and he did not come forward. the stranger then jeered at the men of ulster because their great champion durst not keep his agreement, nor face the blow he should receive in return for the one he gave. the men of ulster were utterly ashamed, but conall cearnach, who was present that night, made a new agreement with the stranger. he gave a blow which beheaded the giant, but again, when the latter returned whole and sound on the following evening, the champion was not to be found. now it was the turn of cuchulain, who, as the others had done, cut off the giant's head at one stroke. the next day the members of conor's court watched cuchulain to see what he would do. they would not have been surprised if he had failed like the others, who now were present. the champion, however, showed no signs of failing or retreat. he sat sorrowfully in his place, and with a sigh said to king conor as they waited: "do not leave this place till all is over. death is coming to me very surely, but i must fulfil my agreement, for i would rather die than break my word." towards the close of day the stranger strode into the hall exultant. "where is cuchulain?" he cried. "here i am," was the reply. "ah, poor boy! your speech is sad to-night, and the fear of death lies heavy on you; but at least you have redeemed your word and have not failed me." the youth rose from his seat and went towards him, as he stood with the great axe ready, and knelt to receive the blow. the hero of ulster laid his head on the block; but the giant was not satisfied. "stretch out your neck better," said he. "you are playing with me, to torment me," said cuchulain. "slay me now speedily, for i did not keep you waiting last night." however, he stretched out his neck as ordered, and the stranger raised his axe till it crashed upwards through the rafters of the hall, like the crash of trees falling in a storm. when the axe came down with a terrific sound all men looked fearfully at cuchulain. the descending axe had not even touched him; it had come down with the blunt side on the ground, and the youth knelt there unharmed. smiling at him, and leaning on his axe, stood no terrible and hideous stranger, but curoi of kerry, come to give his decision at last. "rise up, cuchulain," said curoi. "there is none among all the heroes of ulster to equal you in courage and loyalty and truth. the championship of the heroes of ireland is yours from this day forth, and the champion's portion at all feasts; and to your wife i adjudge the first place among all the women of ulster. woe to him who dares to dispute this decision!" thereupon curoi vanished, and the warriors gathered around cuchulain, and all with one voice acclaimed him the champion of the heroes of all ireland--a title which has clung to him until this day. this is one of many stories told of the irish champion, whose deeds of bravery would fill many pages. cuchulain finally came to his end on the field of battle, after a fight in which he displayed all his usual gallantry but in which unfair means were used to overcome him. for wales and for england during centuries arthur has been the representative "very gentle perfect knight." in a similar way, in england's sister isle, cuchulain stands ever for the highest ideals of the irish gaels. hereward the wake in hereward the wake (or "watchful") is found one of those heroes whose date can be ascertained with a fair amount of exactness and yet in whose story occur mythological elements which seem to belong to all ages. the folklore of primitive races is a great storehouse whence a people can choose tales and heroic deeds to glorify its own national hero, careless that the same tales and deeds have done duty for other peoples and other heroes. hence it happens that hereward the saxon, a patriot hero as real and actual as nelson or george washington, whose deeds were recorded in prose and verse within forty years of his death, was even then surrounded by a cloud of romance and mystery, which hid in vagueness his family, his marriage, and even his death. briefly it may be stated that hereward was a native of lincolnshire, and was in his prime about . in that year he joined a party of danes who appeared in england, attacked peterborough and sacked the abbey there, and afterward took refuge in the isle of ely. here he was besieged by william the conqueror, and was finally forced to yield to the norman. he thus came to stand for the defeated saxon race, and his name has been passed down as that of the darling hero of the saxons. for his splendid defence of ely they forgave his final surrender to duke william; they attributed to him all the virtues supposed to be inherent in the free-born, and all the glorious valor on which the english prided themselves; and, lastly, they surrounded his death with a halo of desperate fighting, and made his last conflict as wonderful as that of roland at roncesvalles. if roland is the ideal of norman feudal chivalry, hereward is equally the ideal of anglo-saxon sturdy manliness and knighthood. an account of one of hereward's adventures as a youth will serve as illustration of the stories told of his prowess. on an enforced visit to cornwall, he found that king alef, a petty british chief, had betrothed his fair daughter to a terrible pictish giant, breaking off, in order to do it, her troth-plight with prince sigtryg of waterford, son of a danish king in ireland. hereward, ever chivalrous, picked a quarrel with the giant and killed him in fair fight, whereupon the king threw him into prison. in the following night, however, the released princess arranged that the gallant saxon should be freed and sent hot-foot for her lover, prince sigtryg. after many adventures hereward reached the prince, who hastened to return to cornwall with the young hero. but to the grief of both, they learned upon their arrival that the princess had just been betrothed to a wild cornish hero, haco, and the wedding feast was to be held that very day. sigtryg at once sent a troop of forty danes to king alef demanding the fulfilment of the troth-plight between himself and his daughter, and threatening vengeance if it were broken. to this threat the king returned no answer, and no dane came back to tell of their reception. sigtryg would have waited till morning, trusting in the honor of the king, but hereward disguised himself as a minstrel and obtained admission to the bridal feast, where he soon won applause by his beautiful singing. the bridegroom, haco, in a rapture offered him any boon he liked to ask, but he demanded only a cup of wine from the hands of the bride. when she brought it to him he flung into the empty cup the betrothal ring, the token she had sent to sigtryg, and said: "i thank thee, lady, and would reward thee for thy gentleness to a wandering minstrel; i give back the cup, richer than before by the kind thoughts of which it bears the token." the princess looked at him, gazed into the goblet, and saw her ring; then, looking again, she recognized her deliverer and knew that rescue was at hand. while men feasted hereward listened and talked, and found out that the forty danes were prisoners, to be released on the morrow when haco was sure of his bride, but released useless and miserable, since they would be turned adrift blinded. haco was taking his lovely bride back to his own land, and hereward saw that any rescue, to be successful, must be attempted on the march. returning to sigtryg, the young saxon told all that he had learned, and the danes planned an ambush in the ravine where haco had decided to blind and set free his captives. the whole was carried out exactly as hereward arranged it. the cornishmen, with the danish captives, passed first without attack; next came haco, riding grim and ferocious beside his silent bride, he exulting in his success, she looking eagerly for any signs of rescue. as they passed hereward sprang from his shelter, crying, "upon them, danes, and set your brethren free!" and himself struck down haco and smote off his head. there was a short struggle, but soon the rescued danes were able to aid their deliverers, and the cornish guards were all slain; the men of king alef, never very zealous for the cause of haco, fled, and the danes were left masters of the field. sigtryg had in the meantime seen to the safety of the princess, and now, placing her between himself and hereward, he escorted her to the ship, which soon brought them to waterford and a happy bridal. the prince and princess of waterford always recognized in hereward their deliverer and best friend, and in their gratitude wished him to dwell with them always; but the hero's roving and daring temper forbade his settling down, but rather urged him on to deeds of arms in other lands, where he quickly won a renown second to none. robin hood among the earliest heirlooms of the anglo-saxon tongue are the songs and legends of robin hood and his merry outlaws, which have charmed readers young and old for more than six hundred years. these entertaining stories date back to the time when chaucer wrote his "canterbury tales," when the minstrel and scribe stood in the place of the more prim and precise modern printed book. the question of whether or not robin hood was a real person has been asked for many years, just as a similar question has been asked about william tell and others whom everyone would much rather accept on faith. it cannot be answered by a brief "yes" or "no," even though learned men have pored over ancient records and have written books on the subject. according to the general belief robin was an outlaw in the reign of richard i, when in the depths of sherwood forest he entertained one hundred tall men, all good archers, with the spoil he took; but "he suffered no woman to be oppressed or otherwise molested; poore men's goods he spared, abundantlie relieving them with that which by theft he got from abbeys and houses of rich carles." consequently robin was an immense favorite with the common people. this popularity extended from the leader to all the members of his hardy band. "god save robin hood and all his good yeomanry" is the ending of many old ballads. the clever archer who could outshoot his fellows, the brave yeoman inured to blows, and the man who could be true to his friends through thick and thin were favorites for all time; and they have been idealized in the persons of robin hood and his merry outlaws. one of the best-known stories of this picturesque figure of early english times is that given by sir walter scott in "ivanhoe," concerning the archery contest during the rule or misrule of prince john, in the absence of richard from the kingdom. robin hood, under the assumed name of locksley, boldly presents himself at a royal tournament at ashby, as competitor for the prize in shooting with the long-bow. from the eight or ten archers who enter the contest, the number finally narrows down to two,-- hubert, a forester in the service of one of the king's nobles, and locksley or robin hood. hubert takes the first shot in the final trial of skill, and lands his arrow within the inner ring of the target, but not exactly in the centre. "'you have not allowed for the wind, hubert,' said locksley, 'or that had been a better shot.' "so saying, and without showing the least anxiety to pause upon his aim, locksley stepped to the appointed station, and shot his arrow as carelessly in appearance as if he had not even looked at the mark. he was speaking almost at the instant that the shaft left the bow-string, yet it alighted in the target two inches nearer to the white spot which marked the centre than that of hubert. "'by the light of heaven!' said prince john to hubert, 'an thou suffer that runagate knave to overcome thee, thou art worthy of the gallows!' "hubert had but one set speech for all occasions. 'an your highness were to hang me,' he said, 'a man can but do his best. nevertheless, my grandsire drew a good bow--' "'the foul fiend on thy grandsire and all his generation!' interrupted john; 'shoot, knave, and shoot thy best, or it shall be worse for thee!' "thus exhorted, hubert resumed his place, and not neglecting the caution which he had received from his adversary, he made the necessary allowance for a very light air of wind, which had just risen, and shot so successfully that his arrow alighted in the very centre of the target. "'a hubert! a hubert!' shouted the populace, more interested in a known person than in a stranger. 'in the clout!--in the clout!--a hubert forever!' "'thou canst not mend that shot, locksley,' said the prince, with an insulting smile. "'i will notch his shaft for him, however,' replied locksley. "and letting fly his arrow with a little more precaution than before, it lighted right upon that of his competitor, which it split to shivers. the people who stood around were so astonished at his wonderful dexterity, that they could not even give vent to their surprise in their usual clamor. 'this must be the devil, and no man of flesh and blood,' whispered the yeomen to each other; 'such archery was never seen since a bow was first bent in britain.' "'and now,' said locksley, 'i will crave your grace's permission to plant such a mark as is used in the north country; and welcome every brave yeoman who shall try a shot at it to win a smile from the bonny lass he loves best.'" locksley thereupon sets up a willow wand, six feet long and as thick as a man's thumb. hubert is forced to decline the honor of taking part in such a trial of archery skill, but his rival easily splits the wand at a distance of three hundred feet and carries off the prize. "even prince john, in admiration of locksley's skill, lost for an instant his dislike to his person. 'these twenty nobles,' he said, 'which, with the bugle, thou hast fairly won, are thine own; we will make them fifty, if thou wilt take livery and service with us as a yeoman of our bodyguard, and be near to our person. for never did so strong a hand bend a bow, or so true an eye direct a shaft.'" [footnote: ivanhoe, vol. , chap. xiii.] locksley, however, declares that it is impossible for him to enter the prince's service, generously shares his prize with the worthy hubert, and retires once more to his beloved haunts among the lights and shadows of the good greenwood. legends of charlemagne introduction those who have investigated the origin of the romantic fables relating to charlemagne and his peers are of opinion that the deeds of charles martel, and perhaps of other charleses, have been blended in popular tradition with those properly belonging to charlemagne. it was indeed a most momentous era; and if our readers will have patience, before entering on the perusal of the fabulous annals which we are about to lay before them, to take a rapid survey of the real history of the times, they will find it hardly less romantic than the tales of the poets. in the century beginning from the year , the countries bordering upon the native land of our saviour, to the east and south, had not yet received his religion. arabia was the seat of an idolatrous religion resembling that of the ancient persians, who worshipped the sun, moon, and stars. in mecca, in the year , mahomet was born, and here, at the age of forty, he proclaimed himself the prophet of god, in dignity as superior to christ as christ had been to moses. having obtained by slow degrees a considerable number of disciples, he resorted to arms to diffuse his religion. the energy and zeal of his followers, aided by the weakness of the neighboring nations, enabled him and his successors to spread the sway of arabia and the religion of mahomet over the countries to the east as far as the indus, northward over persia and asia minor, westward over egypt and the southern shores of the mediterranean, and thence over the principal portion of spain. all this was done within one hundred years from the hegira, or flight of mahomet from mecca to medina, which happened in the year , and is the era from which mahometans reckon time, as we do from the birth of christ. from spain the way was open for the saracens (so the followers of mahomet were called) into france, the conquest of which, if achieved, would have been followed very probably by that of all the rest of europe, and would have resulted in the banishment of christianity from the earth. for christianity was not at that day universally professed, even by those nations which we now regard as foremost in civilization. great part of germany, britain, denmark, and russia were still pagan or barbarous. at that time there ruled in france, though without the title of king, the first of those illustrious charleses of whom we have spoken, charles martel, the grandfather of charlemagne. the saracens of spain had made incursions into france in and , and had retired, carrying with them a vast booty. in , anbessa, who was then the saracen governor of spain, crossed the pyrenees with a numerous army, and took by storm the strong town of carcassone. so great was the terror excited by this invasion, that the country for a wide extent submitted to the conqueror, and a mahometan governor for the province was appointed and installed at narbonne. anbessa, however, received a fatal wound in one of his engagements, and the saracens, being thus checked from further advance, retired to narbonne. in the saracens again invaded france under abdalrahman, advanced rapidly to the banks of the garonne, and laid siege to bordeaux. the city was taken by assault and delivered up to the soldiery. the invaders still pressed forward, and spread over the territories of orleans, auxerre and sens. their advanced parties were suddenly called in by their chief, who had received information of the rich abbey of st. martin of tours, and resolved to plunder and destroy it. charles during all this time had done nothing to oppose the saracens, for the reason that the portion of france over which their incursions had been made was not at that time under his dominion, but constituted an independent kingdom, under the name of aquitaine, of which eude was king. but now charles became convinced of the danger, and prepared to encounter it. abdalrahman was advancing toward tours, when intelligence of the approach of charles, at the head of an army of franks, compelled him to fall back upon poitiers, in order to seize an advantageous field of battle. charles martel had called together his warriors from every part of his dominions, and, at the head of such an army as had hardly ever been seen in france, crossed the loire, probably at orleans, and, being joined by the remains of the army of aquitaine, came in sight of the arabs in the month of october, . the saracens seem to have been aware of the terrible enemy they were now to encounter, and for the first time these formidable conquerors hesitated. the two armies remained in presence during seven days before either ventured to begin the attack; but at length the signal for battle was given by abdalrahman, and the immense mass of the saracen army rushed with fury on the franks. but the heavy line of the northern warriors remained like a rock, and the saracens, during nearly the whole day, expended their strength in vain attempts to make any impression upon them. at length, about four o'clock in the afternoon, when abdalrahman was preparing for a new and desperate attempt to break the line of the franks, a terrible clamor was heard in the rear of the saracens. it was king eude, who, with his aquitanians, had attacked their camp, and a great part of the saracen army rushed tumultuously from the field to protect their plunder. in this moment of confusion the line of the franks advanced, and, sweeping the field before it, carried fearful slaughter amongst the enemy. abdalrahman made desperate efforts to rally his troops, but when he himself, with the bravest of his officers, fell beneath the swords of the christians, all order disappeared, and the remains of his army sought refuge in their immense camp, from which eude and his aquitanians had been repulsed. it was now late, and charles, unwilling to risk an attack on the camp in the dark, withdrew his army, and passed the night in the plain, expecting to renew the battle in the morning. accordingly, when daylight came, the franks drew up in order of battle, but no enemy appeared; and when at last they ventured to approach the saracen camp they found it empty. the invaders had taken advantage of the night to begin their retreat, and were already on their way back to spain, leaving their immense plunder behind to fall into the hands of the franks. this was the celebrated battle of tours, in which vast numbers of the saracens were slain, and only fifteen hundred of the franks. charles received the surname of martel (the hammer) in consequence of this victory. the saracens, notwithstanding this severe blow, continued to hold their ground in the south of france; but pepin, the son of charles martel, who succeeded to his father's power, and assumed the title of king, successively took from them the strong places they held; and in , by the capture of narbonne, their capital, extinguished the remains of their power in france. charlemagne, or charles the great, succeeded his father, pepin, on the throne in the year . this prince, though the hero of numerous romantic legends, appears greater in history than in fiction. whether we regard him as a warrior or as a legislator, as a patron of learning or as the civilizer of a barbarous nation, he is entitled to our warmest admiration. such he is in history; but the romancers represent him as often weak and passionate, the victim of treacherous counsellors, and at the mercy of turbulent barons, on whose prowess he depends for the maintenance of his throne. the historical representation is doubtless the true one, for it is handed down in trustworthy records, and is confirmed by the events of the age. at the height of his power, the french empire extended over what we now call france, germany, switzerland, holland, belgium, and great part of italy. in the year charlemagne, being in rome, whither he had gone with a numerous army to protect the pope, was crowned by the pontiff emperor of the west. on christmas day charles entered the church of st. peter, as if merely to take his part in the celebration of the mass with the rest of the congregation. when he approached the altar and stooped in the act of prayer the pope stepped forward and placed a crown of gold upon his head; and immediately the roman people shouted, "life and victory to charles the august, crowned by god the great and pacific emperor of the romans." the pope then prostrated himself before him, and paid him reverence, according to the custom established in the times of the ancient emperors, and concluded the ceremony by anointing him with consecrated oil. charlemagne's wars were chiefly against the pagan and barbarous people, who, under the name of saxons, inhabited the countries now called hanover and holland. he also led expeditions against the saracens of spain; but his wars with the saracens were not carried on, as the romances assert, in france, but on the soil of spain. he entered spain by the eastern pyrenees, and made an easy conquest of barcelona and pampeluna. but saragossa refused to open her gates to him, and charles ended by negotiating and accepting a vast sum of gold as the price of his return over the pyrenees. on his way back, he marched with his whole army through the gorges of the mountains by way of the valleys of engui, eno, and roncesvalles. the chief of this region had waited upon charlemagne, on his advance, as a faithful vassal of the monarchy; but now, on the return of the franks, he had called together all the wild mountaineers who acknowledged him as their chief, and they occupied the heights of the mountains under which the army had to pass. the main body of the troops met with no obstruction, and received no intimation of danger; but the rear-guard, which was considerably behind, and encumbered with its plunder, was overwhelmed by the mountaineers in the pass of roncesvalles, and slain to a man. some of the bravest of the prankish chiefs perished on this occasion, among whom is mentioned roland or orlando, governor of the marches or frontier of brittany. his name became famous in after times, and the disaster of roncesvalles and death of roland became eventually the most celebrated episode in the vast cycle of romance. though after this there were hostile encounters between the armies of charlemagne and the saracens, they were of small account, and generally on the soil of spain. thus the historical foundation for the stories of the romancers is but scanty, unless we suppose the events of an earlier and of a later age to be incorporated with those of charlemagne's own time. there is, however, a pretended history, which for a long time was admitted as authentic, and attributed to turpin, archbishop of rheims, a real personage of the time of charlemagne. its title is "history of charles the great and orlando." it is now unhesitatingly considered as a collection of popular traditions, produced by some credulous and unscrupulous monk, who thought to give dignity to his romance by ascribing its authorship to a well- known and eminent individual. it introduces its pretended author, bishop turpin, in this manner: "turpin, archbishop of rheims, the friend and secretary of charles the great, excellently skilled in sacred and profane literature, of a genius equally adapted to prose and verse, the advocate of the poor, beloved of god in his life and conversation, who often fought the saracens, hand to hand, by the emperor's side, he relates the acts of charles the great in one book, and flourished under charles and his son louis, to the year of our lord eight hundred and thirty." the titles of some of archbishop turpin's chapters will show the nature of his history. they are these: "of the walls of pampeluna, that fell of themselves." "of the war of the holy facundus, where the spears grew." (certain of the christians fixed their spears in the evening, erect in the ground, before the castle; and found them, in the morning, covered with bark and branches.) "how the sun stood still for three days, and of the slaughter of four thousand saracens." turpin's history has perhaps been the source of the marvellous adventures which succeeding poets and romancers have accumulated around the names of charlemagne and his paladins, or peers. but ariosto and the other italian poets have drawn from different sources, and doubtless often from their own invention, numberless other stories which they attribute to the same heroes, not hesitating to quote as their authority "the good turpin," though his history contains no trace of them; and the more outrageous the improbability, or rather the impossibility, of their narrations, the more attentive are they to cite "the archbishop," generally adding their testimonial to his unquestionable veracity. the principal italian poets who have sung the adventures of the peers of charlemagne are pulci, boiardo, and ariosto. the characters of orlando, rinaldo, astolpho, gano, and others, are the same in all, though the adventures attributed to them are different. boiardo tells us of the loves of orlando, ariosto of his disappointment and consequent madness, pulci of his death. ogier, the dane, is a real personage. history agrees with romance in representing him as a powerful lord who, originally from denmark and a pagan, embraced christianity, and took service under charlemagne. he revolted from the emperor, and was driven into exile. he afterwards led one of those bands of piratical northmen which ravaged france under the reigns of charlemagne's degenerate successors. the description which an ancient chronicler gives of charlemagne, as described by ogier, is so picturesque, that we are tempted to transcribe it. charlemagne was advancing to the siege of pavia. didier, king of the lombards, was in the city with ogier, to whom he had given refuge. when they learned that the king was approaching they mounted a high tower, whence they could see far and wide over the country. "they first saw advancing the engines of war, fit for the armies of darius or julius caesar. 'there is charlemagne,' said didier. 'no,' said ogier. the lombard next saw a vast body of soldiers, who filled all the plain. 'certainly charles advanced with that host,' said the king. 'not yet,' replied ogier. 'what hope for us,' resumed the king, 'if he brings with him a greater host than that?' at last charles appeared, his head covered with an iron helmet, his hands with iron gloves, his breast and shoulders with a cuirass of iron, his left hand holding an iron lance, while his right hand grasped his sword. those who went before the monarch, those who marched at his side, and those who followed him, all had similar arms. iron covered the fields and the roads; iron points reflected the rays of the sun. this iron, so hard, was borne by a people whose hearts were harder still. the blaze of the weapons flashed terror into the streets of the city." this picture of charlemagne in his military aspect would be incomplete without a corresponding one of his "mood of peace." one of the greatest of modern historians, m. guizot, has compared the glory of charlemagne to a brilliant meteor, rising suddenly out of the darkness of barbarism to disappear no less suddenly in the darkness of feudalism. but the light of this meteor was not extinguished, and reviving civilization owed much that was permanently beneficial to the great emperor of the franks. his ruling hand is seen in the legislation of his time, as well as in the administration of the laws. he encouraged learning; he upheld the clergy, who were the only peaceful and intellectual class, against the encroaching and turbulent barons; he was an affectionate father, and watched carefully over the education of his children, both sons and daughters. of his encouragement of learning we will give some particulars. he caused learned men to be brought from italy and from other foreign countries to revive the public schools of france, which had been prostrated by the disorders of preceding times. he recompensed these learned men liberally, and kept some of them near himself, honoring them with his friendship. of these the most celebrated is alcuin, an englishman, whose writings still remain, and prove him to have been both a learned and a wise man. with the assistance of alcuin, and others like him, he founded an academy or royal school, which should have the direction of the studies of all the schools of the kingdom. charlemagne himself was a member of this academy on equal terms with the rest. he attended its meetings, and fulfilled all the duties of an academician. each member took the name of some famous man of antiquity. alcuin called himself horace, another took the name of augustin, a third of pindar. charlemagne, who knew the psalms by heart, and who had an ambition to be, according to his conception, a king after god's own heart, received from his brother academicians the name of david. of the respect entertained for him by foreign nations an interesting proof is afforded in the embassy sent to him by the caliph of the arabians, the celebrated haroun al raschid, a prince in character and conduct not unlike to charlemagne. the ambassadors brought with them, besides other rich presents, a clock, the first that was seen in europe, which excited universal admiration. it had the form of a twelve-sided edifice with twelve doors. these doors formed niches, in each of which was a little statue representing one of the hours. at the striking of the hour the doors, one for each stroke, was seen to open, and from the doors to issue as many of the little statues, which, following one another, marched gravely round the tower. the motion of the clock was caused by water, and the striking was effected by balls of brass equal to the number of the hours, which fell upon a cymbal of the same metal, the number falling being determined by the discharge of the water, which, as it sunk in the vessel, allowed their escape. charlemagne was succeeded by his son louis, a well-intentioned but feeble prince, in whose reign the fabric reared by charles began rapidly to crumble. louis was followed successively by two charleses, incapable princes, whose weak and often tyrannical conduct is no doubt the source of incidents of that character ascribed in the romances to charlemagne. the lawless and disobedient deportment of charles's paladins, instances of which are so frequent in the romantic legends, was also a trait of the declining empire, but not of that of charlemagne. the peers, or paladins the twelve most illustrious knights of charlemagne were called peers, for the equality that reigned among them; while the name of paladins, also conferred on them, implies that they were inmates of the palace and companions of the king. their names are always given alike by the romancers, yet we may enumerate the most distinguished of them as follows: orlando or roland (the former the italian, the latter the french form of the name), favorite nephew of charlemagne; rinaldo of montalban, cousin of orlando; namo, duke of bavaria; salomon, king of brittany; turpin, the archbishop; astolpho, of england; ogier, the dane; malagigi, the enchanter; and florismart, the friend of orlando. there were others who are sometimes named as paladins, and the number cannot be strictly limited to twelve. charlemagne himself must be counted one, and ganelon, or gano, of mayence, the treacherous enemy of all the rest, was rated high on the list by his deluded sovereign, who was completely the victim of his arts. we shall introduce more particularly to our readers a few of the principal peers, leaving the others to make their own introduction as they appear in the course of our narrative. we begin with orlando. orlando milon, or milone, a knight of great family, and distantly related to charlemagne, having secretly married bertha, the emperor's sister, was banished from france, and excommunicated by the pope. after a long and miserable wandering on foot as mendicants milon and his wife arrived at sutri, in italy, where they took refuge in a cave, and in that cave orlando was born. there his mother continued, deriving a scanty support from the compassion of the neighboring peasants; while milon, in quest of honor and fortune, went into foreign lands. orlando grew up among the children of the peasantry, surpassing them all in strength and manly graces. among his companions in age, though in station far more elevated, was oliver, son of the governor of the town. between the two boys a feud arose that led to a fight, in which orlando thrashed his rival; but this did not prevent a friendship springing up between the two, which lasted through life. orlando was so poor that he was sometimes half naked. as he was a favorite of the boys, one day four of them brought some cloth to make him clothes. two brought white and two red; and from this circumstance orlando took his coat-of-arms, or quarterings. when charlemagne was on his way to rome to receive the imperial crown he dined in public in sutri. orlando and his mother that day had nothing to eat, and orlando coming suddenly upon the royal party, and seeing abundance of provisions, seized from the attendants as much as he could carry off, and made good his retreat in spite of their resistance. the emperor, being told of this incident, was reminded of an intimation he had received in a dream, and ordered the boy to be followed. this was done by three of the knights, whom orlando would have encountered with a cudgel on their entering the grotto, had not his mother restrained him. when they heard from her who she was they threw themselves at her feet, and promised to obtain her pardon from the emperor. this was easily effected. orlando was received into favor by the emperor, returned with him to france, and so distinguished himself that he became the most powerful support of the throne and of christianity. [footnote: it is plain that shakspeare borrowed from this source the similar incident in his "as you like it." the names of characters in the play, orlando, oliver, rowland indicate the same thing.] roland and ferragus orlando, or roland, particularly distinguished himself by his combat with ferragus. ferragus was a giant, and moreover his skin was of such impenetrable stuff that no sword could make any impression upon it. the giant's mode of fighting was to seize his adversary in his arms and carry him off, in spite of all the struggles he could make. roland's utmost skill only availed to keep him out of the giant's clutches, but all his efforts to wound him with the sword were useless. after long fighting ferragus was so weary that he proposed a truce, and when it was agreed upon he lay down and immediately fell asleep. he slept in perfect security, for it was against all the laws of chivalry to take advantage of an adversary under such circumstances. but ferragus lay so uncomfortably for the want of a pillow that orlando took pity upon him, and brought a smooth stone and placed it under his head. when the giant woke up, after a refreshing nap, and perceived what orlando had done, he seemed quite grateful, became sociable, and talked freely in the usual boastful style of such characters. among other things he told orlando that he need not attempt to kill him with a sword, for that every part of his body was invulnerable, except this; and as he spoke, he put his hand to the vital part, just in the middle of his breast. aided by this information orlando succeeded, when the fight was renewed, in piercing the giant in the very spot he had pointed out, and giving him a death-wound. great was the rejoicing in the christian camp, and many the praises showered upon the victorious paladin by the emperor and all his host. on another occasion orlando encountered a puissant saracen warrior, and took from him, as the prize of victory, the sword durindana. this famous weapon had once belonged to the illustrious prince hector of troy. it was of the finest workmanship, and of such strength and temper that no armor in the world could stand against it. a roland for an oliver guerin de montglave held the lordship of vienne, subject to charlemagne. he had quarrelled with his sovereign, and charles laid siege to his city, having ravaged the neighboring country. guerin was an aged warrior, but relied for his defence upon his four sons and two grandsons, who were among the bravest knights of the age. after the siege had continued two months charlemagne received tidings that marsilius, king of spain, had invaded france, and, finding himself unopposed, was advancing rapidly in the southern provinces. at this intelligence charles listened to the counsel of his peers, and consented to put the quarrel with guerin to the decision of heaven, by single combat between two knights, one of each party, selected by lot. the proposal was acceptable to guerin and his sons. the names of the four, together with guerin's own, who would not be excused, and of the two grandsons, who claimed their lot, being put into a helmet, oliver's was drawn forth, and to him, the youngest of the grandsons, was assigned the honor and the peril of the combat. he accepted the award with delight, exulting in being thought worthy to maintain the cause of his family. on charlemagne's side roland was the designated champion, and neither he nor oliver knew who his antagonist was to be. they met on an island in the rhone, and the warriors of both camps were ranged on either shore, spectators of the battle. at the first encounter both lances were shivered, but both riders kept their seats, immovable. they dismounted, and drew their swords. then ensued a combat which seemed so equal, that the spectators could not form an opinion as to the probable issue. two hours and more the knights continued to strike and parry, to thrust and ward, neither showing any sign of weariness, nor ever being taken at unawares. at length orlando struck furiously upon oliver's shield, burying durindana in its edge so deeply that he could not draw it back, and oliver, almost at the same moment, thrust so vigorously upon orlando's breastplate that his sword snapped off at the handle. thus were the two warriors left weaponless. scarcely pausing a moment, they rushed upon one another, each striving to throw his adversary to the ground, and failing in that, each snatched at the other's helmet to tear it away. both succeeded, and at the same moment they stood bare-headed face to face, and roland recognized oliver, and oliver roland. for a moment they stood still; and the next, with open arms, rushed into one another's embrace. "i am conquered," said orlando. "i yield me." said oliver. the people on the shore knew not what to make of all this. presently they saw the two late antagonists standing hand in hand, and it was evident the battle was at an end. the knights crowded round them, and with one voice hailed them as equals in glory. if there were any who felt disposed to murmur that the battle was left undecided they were silenced by the voice of ogier the dane, who proclaimed aloud that all had been done that honor required, and declared that he would maintain that award against all gainsayers. the quarrel with guerin and his sons being left undecided, a truce was made for four days, and in that time, by the efforts of duke namo on the one side, and of oliver on the other, a reconciliation was effected. charlemagne, accompanied by guerin and his valiant family, marched to meet marsilius, who hastened to retreat across the frontier. rinaldo rinaldo was one of the four sons of aymon, who married aya, the sister of charlemagne. thus rinaldo was nephew to charlemagne and cousin of orlando. when rinaldo had grown old enough to assume arms orlando had won for himself an illustrious name by his exploits against the saracens, whom charlemagne and his brave knights had driven out of france. orlando's fame excited a noble emulation in rinaldo. eager to go in pursuit of glory, he wandered in the country near paris, and one day saw at the foot of a tree a superb horse, fully equipped and loaded with a complete suit of armor. rinaldo clothed himself in the armor and mounted the horse, but took not the sword. on the day when, with his brothers, he had received the honor of knighthood from the emperor he had sworn never to bind a sword to his side till he had wrested one from some famous knight. rinaldo took his way to the forest of arden, celebrated for so many adventures. hardly had he entered it when he met an old man, bending under the weight of years, and learned from him that the forest was infested with a wild horse, untamable, that broke and overturned everything that opposed his career. to attack him, he said, or even to meet him, was certain death. rinaldo, far from being alarmed, showed the most eager desire to combat the animal. this was the horse bayard, afterward so famous. he had formerly belonged to amadis of gaul. after the death of that hero he had been held under enchantment by the power of a magician, who predicted that, when the time came to break the spell, he should be subdued by a knight of the lineage of amadis, and not less brave than he. to win this wonderful horse it was necessary to conquer him by force or skill; for from the moment when he should be thrown down he would become docile and manageable. his habitual resort was a cave on the borders of the forest; but woe be to any one who should approach him, unless gifted with strength and courage more than mortal. having told this, the old man departed. he was not, in fact, an old man, but malagigi, the enchanter, cousin of rinaldo, who, to favor the enterprises of the young knight, had procured for him the horse and armor which he so opportunely found, and now put him in the way to acquire a horse unequalled in the world. rinaldo plunged into the forest, and spent many days in seeking bayard, but found no traces of him. one day he encountered a saracen knight, with whom he made acquaintance, as often happened to knights, by first meeting him in combat. this knight, whose name was isolier, was also in quest of bayard. rinaldo succeeded in the encounter, and so severe was the shock that isolier was a long time insensible. when he revived, and was about to resume the contest, a peasant who passed by (it was malagigi) interrupted them with the news that the terrible horse was near at hand, advising them to unite their powers to subdue him, for it would require all their ability. rinaldo and isolier, now become friends, proceeded together to the attack of the horse. they found bayard, and stood a long time, concealed by the wood, admiring his strength and beauty. a bright bay in color (whence he was called bayard), with a silver star in his forehead, and his hind feet white, his body slender, his head delicate, his ample chest filled out with swelling muscles, his shoulders broad and full, his legs straight and sinewy, his thick mane falling over his arching neck,--he came rushing through the forest, regardless of rocks, bushes, or trees, rending everything that opposed his way, and neighing defiance. he first descried isolier, and rushed upon him. the knight received him with lance in rest, but the fierce animal broke the spear, and his course was not delayed by it for an instant. the spaniard adroitly stepped aside, and gave way to the rushing tempest. bayard checked his career, and turned again upon the knight, who had already drawn his sword. he drew his sword, for he had no hope of taming the horse; that, he was satisfied, was impossible. bayard rushed upon him; fiercely rearing, now on this side, now on that. the knight struck him with his sword, where the white star adorned his forehead, but struck in vain, and felt ashamed, thinking that he had struck feebly, for he did not know that the skin of that horse was so tough that the keenest sword could make no impression upon it. whistling fell the sword once more, and struck with greater force, and the fierce horse felt it, and drooped his head under the blow, but the next moment turned upon his foe with such a buffet that the pagan fell stunned and lifeless to the earth. rinaldo, who saw isolier fall, and thought that his life was reft, darted towards the horse, and, with his fist gave him such a blow on the jaws that the blood tinged his mouth with vermilion. quicker than an arrow leaves the bow the horse turned upon him, and tried to seize his arm with his teeth. the knight stepped back, and then, repeating his blow, struck him on the forehead. bayard turned, and kicked with both his feet with a force that would have shattered a mountain. rinaldo was on his guard, and evaded his attacks, whether made with head or heels. he kept at his side avoiding both; but, making a false step, he at last received a terrible blow from the horse's foot, and at the shock almost fainted away. a second such blow would have killed him, but the horse kicked at random, and a second blow did not reach rinaldo, who in a moment recovered himself. thus the contest continued until by chance bayard's foot got caught between the branches of an oak. rinaldo seized it and putting forth all his strength and address, threw him on the ground. no sooner had bayard touched the ground than all his rage subsided. no longer an object of terror, he became gentle and quiet, yet with dignity in his mildness. the paladin patted his neck, stroked his breast, and smoothed his mane, while the animal neighed and showed delight to be caressed by his master. rinaldo, seeing him now completely subdued, took the saddle and trappings from the other horse, and adorned bayard with the spoils. rinaldo became one of the most illustrious knights of charlemagne's court,--indeed, the most illustrious, if we except orlando. yet he was not always so obedient to the emperor's commands as he should have been, and every fault he committed was sure to be aggravated by the malice of gan, duke of maganza, the treacherous enemy of rinaldo and all his house. at one time rinaldo had incurred the severe displeasure of charlemagne, and been banished from court. seeing no chance of being ever restored to favor, he went to spain, and entered into the service of the saracen king, ivo. his brothers, alardo, ricardo, and ricciardetto, accompanied him, and all four served the king so faithfully that they rose to high favor with him. the king gave them land in the mountains on the frontiers of france and spain, and subjected all the country round to rinaldo's authority. there was plenty of marble in the mountains, the king furnished workmen, and they built a castle for rinaldo, surrounded with high walls, so as to be almost impregnable. built of white stone, and placed on the brow of a marble promontory, the castle shone like a star, and rinaldo gave it the name of montalban. here he assembled his friends, many of whom were banished men like himself, and the country people furnished them with provisions in return for the protection the castle afforded. yet some of rinaldo's men were lawless, and sometimes the supplies were not furnished in sufficient abundance, so that rinaldo and his garrison got a bad name for taking by force what they could not obtain by gift; and we sometimes find montalban spoken of as a nest of freebooters, and its defenders called a beggarly garrison. charlemagne's displeasure did not last long, and, at the time our history commences, rinaldo and his brothers were completely restored to the favor of the emperor, and none of his cavaliers served him with greater zeal and fidelity than they, throughout all his wars with the saracens and pagans. the tournament it was the month of may, and the feast of pentecost. charlemagne had ordered magnificent festivities, and summoned to them, besides his paladins and vassals of the crown, all strangers, christian or saracen, then sojourning at paris. among the guests were king grandonio, from spain; and ferrau, the saracen, with eyes like an eagle; orlando and rinaldo, the emperor's nephews; duke namo; astolpho, of england, the handsomest man living; malagigi, the enchanter; and gano, of maganza, that wily traitor, who had the art to make the emperor think he loved him, while he plotted against him. high sat charlemagne at the head of his vassals and his paladins, rejoicing in the thought of their number and their might, while all were sitting and hearing music, and feasting, when suddenly there came into the hall four enormous giants, having between them a lady of incomparable beauty, attended by a single knight. there were many ladies present who had seemed beautiful till she made her appearance, but after that they all seemed nothing. every christian knight turned his eyes to her, and every pagan crowded round her, while she, with a sweetness that might have touched a heart of stone, thus addressed the emperor: "high-minded lord, the renown of your worthiness, and of the valor of these your knights, which echoes from sea to sea, encourages me to hope that two pilgrims, who have come from the ends of the world to behold you, will not have encountered their fatigue in vain. and, before i show the motive which has brought us hither, learn that this knight is my brother uberto, and that i am his sister angelica. fame has told us of the jousting this day appointed, and so the prince my brother has come to prove his valor, and to say that, if any of the knights here assembled choose to meet him in the joust, he will encounter them, one by one, at the stair of merlin, by the fountain of the pine. and his conditions are these: no knight who chances to be thrown shall be allowed to renew the combat, but shall remain prisoner to my brother; but if my brother be overthrown he shall depart out of the country, leaving me as the prize of the conqueror." now it must be stated that this angelica and her brother, who called himself uberto, but whose real name was argalia, were the children of galafron, king of cathay, who had sent them to be the destruction of the christian host; for argalia was armed with an enchanted lance, which unfailingly overthrew everything it touched, and he was mounted on a horse, a creature of magic, whose swiftness outstripped the wind. angelica possessed also a ring which was a defence against all enchantments, and when put into the mouth rendered the bearer invisible. thus argalia was expected to subdue and take prisoners whatever knights should dare to encounter him; and the charms of angelica were relied on to entice the paladins to make the fatal venture, while her ring would afford her easy means of escape. when angelica ceased sneaking she knelt before the king and awaited his answer, and everybody gazed on her with admiration. orlando especially felt irresistibly drawn towards her, so that he trembled and changed countenance. every knight in the hall was infected with the same feeling, not excepting old white-headed duke namo and charlemagne himself. all stood for a while in silence, lost in the delight of looking at her. the fiery youth ferrau could hardly restrain himself from seizing her from the giants and carrying her away; rinaldo turned as red as fire, while malagigi, who had discovered by his art that the stranger was not speaking truth, muttered softly, as he looked at her, "exquisite false creature! i will play thee such a trick for this, as will leave thee no cause to boast of thy visit." charlemagne, to detain her as long as possible before him, delayed his assent till he had asked her a number of questions, all which she answered discreetly, and then the challenge was accepted. as soon as she was gone malagigi consulted his book, and found out the whole plot of the vile, infidel king, galafron, as we have explained it, so he determined to seek the damsel and frustrate her designs. he hastened to the appointed spot, and there found the prince and his sister in a beautiful pavilion, where they lay asleep, while the four giants kept watch. malagigi took his book and cast a spell out of it, and immediately the four giants fell into a deep sleep. drawing his sword (for he was a belted knight), he softly approached the young lady, intending to despatch her at once; but, seeing her look so lovely, he paused for a moment, thinking there was no need of hurry, as he believed his spell was upon her, and she could not wake. but the ring which she wore secured her from the effect of the spell, and some slight noise, or whatever else it was, caused her at that moment to awake. she uttered a great cry, and flew to her brother, and waked him. by the help of her knowledge of enchantment, they took and bound fast the magician, and, seizing his book, turned his arts against himself. then they summoned a crowd of demons, and bade them seize their prisoner and bear him to king galafron, at his great city of albracca, which they did, and, on his arrival, he was locked up in a rock under the sea. while these things were going on all was uproar at paris, since orlando insisted upon being the first to try the adventure at the stair of merlin. this was resented by the other pretenders to angelica, and all contested his right to the precedence. the tumult was stilled by the usual expedient of drawing lots, and the first prize was drawn by astolpho. ferrau, the saracen, had the second, and grandonio the third. next came berlinghieri, and otho; then charles himself, and, as his ill-fortune would have it, after thirty more, the indignant orlando. astolpho, who drew the first lot, was handsome, brave, and rich. but, whether from heedlessness or want of skill, he was an unlucky jouster, and very apt to be thrown, an accident which he bore with perfect good-humor, always ready to mount again and try to mend his fortune, generally with no better success. astolpho went forth upon his adventure with great gayety of dress and manner, encountered argalia, and was immediately tilted out of the saddle. he railed at fortune, to whom he laid all the fault; but his painful feelings were somewhat relieved by the kindness of angelica, who, touched by his youth and good looks, granted him the liberty of the pavilion, and caused him to be treated with all kindness and respect. the violent ferrau had the next chance in the encounter, and was thrown no less speedily than astolpho; but he did not so easily put up with his mischance. crying out, "what are the emperor's engagements to me?" he rushed with his sword against argalia, who, being forced to defend himself, dismounted and drew his sword, but got so much the worse of the fight that he made a signal of surrender, and, after some words, listened to a proposal of marriage from ferrau to his sister. the beauty, however, feeling no inclination to match with such a rough and savage-looking person, was so dismayed at the offer, that, hastily bidding her brother to meet her in the forest of arden, she vanished from the sight of both by means of the enchanted ring. argalia, seeing this, took to his horse of swiftness, and dashed away in the same direction. ferrau pursued him, and astolpho, thus left to himself, took possession of the enchanted lance in place of his own, which was broken, not knowing the treasure he possessed in it, and returned to the tournament. charlemagne, finding the lady and her brother gone, ordered the jousting to proceed as at first intended, in which astolpho, by aid of the enchanted lance, unhorsed all comers against him, equally to their astonishment and his own. the paladin rinaldo, on learning the issue of the combat of ferrau and the stranger, galloped after the fair fugitive in an agony of love and impatience. orlando, perceiving his disappearance, pushed forth in like manner; and, at length, all three are in the forest of arden, hunting about for her who is invisible. now in this forest there were two fountains, the one constructed by the sage merlin, who designed it for tristram and the fair isoude; [footnote: see their story in "king arthur and his knights."] for such was the virtue of this fountain, that a draught of its waters produced on oblivion of the love which the drinker might feel, and even produced aversion for the object formerly beloved. the other fountain was endowed with exactly opposite qualities, and a draught of it inspired love for the first living object that was seen after tasting it. rinaldo happened to come to the first mentioned fountain, and, being flushed with heat, dismounted, and quenched in one draught both his thirst and his passion. so far from loving angelica as before he hated her from the bottom of his heart, became disgusted with the search he was upon, and, feeling fatigued with his ride, finding a sheltered and flowery nook, laid himself down and fell asleep. shortly after came angelica, but, approaching in a different direction, she espied the other fountain, and there quenched her thirst. then resuming her way, she came upon the sleeping rinaldo. love instantly seized her, and she stood rooted to the spot. the meadow round was all full of lilies of the valley and wild roses. angelica, not knowing what to do, at length plucked a handful of these, and dropped them, one by one, on the face of the sleeper. he woke up, and, seeing who it was, received her salutations with averted countenance, remounted his horse, and galloped away. in vain the beautiful creature followed and called after him, in vain asked him what she had done to be so despised. rinaldo disappeared, leaving her in despair, and she returned in tears to the spot where she had found him sleeping. there, in her turn, she herself lay down, pressing the spot of earth on which he had lain, and, out of fatigue and sorrow, fell asleep. as angelica thus lay, fortune conducted orlando to the same place. the attitude in which she was sleeping was so lovely that it is not to be conceived, much less expressed. orlando stood gazing like a man who had been transported to another sphere. "am i on earth," he exclaimed, "or am i in paradise? surely it is i that sleep, and this is my dream." but his dream was proved to be none in a manner which he little desired. ferrau, who had slain argalia, came up, raging with jealousy, and a combat ensued which awoke the sleeper. terrified at what she beheld, she rushed to her palfrey, and, while the fighters were occupied with one another, fled away through the forest. the champions continued their fight till they were interrupted by a messenger, who brought word to ferrau that king marsilius, his sovereign, was in pressing need of his assistance, and conjured him to return to spain. ferrau, upon this, proposed to suspend the combat, to which orlando, eager to pursue angelica, agreed. ferrau, on the other hand, departed with the messenger to spain. orlando's quest for the fair fugitive was all in vain. aided by the powers of magic, she made a speedy return to her own country. but the thought of rinaldo could not be banished from her mind, and she determined to set malagigi at liberty, and to employ him to win rinaldo, if possible, to make her a return of affection. she accordingly freed him from his dungeon, unlocking his fetters with her own hands, and restored him his book, promising him ample honors and rewards on condition of his bringing rinaldo to her feet. malagigi accordingly, with the aid of his book, called up a demon, mounted him, and departed. arrived at his destination, he inveigled rinaldo into an enchanted bark, which conveyed him, without any visible pilot, to an island where stood an edifice called joyous castle. the whole island was a garden. on the western side, close to the sea, was the palace, built of marble, so clear and polished that it reflected the landscape about it. rinaldo leapt ashore, and soon met a lady, who invited him to enter. the house was as beautiful within as without, full of rooms adorned with azure and gold, and with noble paintings. the lady led the knight into an apartment painted with stories, and opening to the garden, through pillars of crystal, with golden capitals. here he found a bevy of ladies, three of whom were singing in concert, while another played on an instrument of exquisite accord, and the rest danced round about them. when the ladies beheld him coming they turned the dance into a circuit round him, and then one of them, in the sweetest manner, said, "sir knight, the tables are set, and the hour for the banquet is come;" and, with these words, still dancing, they drew him across the lawn in front of the apartment, to a table that was spread with cloth of gold and fine linen, under a bower of damask roses by the side of a fountain. four ladies were already seated there, who rose, and placed rinaldo at their head, in a chair set with pearls. and truly indeed was he astonished. a repast ensued, consisting of viands the most delicate, and wines as fragrant as they were fine, drunk out of jewelled cups; and, when it drew towards its conclusion, harps and lutes were heard in the distance, and one of the ladies said in the knight's ear: "this house and all that you see in it are yours; for you alone was it built, and the builder is a queen. happy indeed must you think yourself, for she loves you, and she is the greatest beauty in the world! her name is angelica." the moment rinaldo heard the name he so detested he started up, with a changed countenance, and, in spite of all that the lady could say, broke off across the garden, and never ceased hastening till he reached the place where he landed. the bark was still on the shore. he sprang into it, and pushed off, though he saw nobody in it but himself. it was in vain for him to try to control its movements, for it dashed on as if in fury, till it reached a distant shore covered with a gloomy forest. here rinaldo, surrounded by enchantments of a very different sort from those which he had lately resisted, was entrapped into a pit. the pit belonged to a castle called altaripa, which was hung with human heads, and painted red with blood. as the paladin was viewing the scene with amazement a hideous old woman made her appearance at the edge of the pit, and told him that he was destined to be thrown to a monster, who was only kept from devastating the whole country by being supplied with living human flesh. rinaldo said, "be it so; let me but remain armed as i am, and i fear nothing." the old woman laughed in derision. rinaldo remained in the pit all night, and the next morning was taken to the place where the monster had his den. it was a court surrounded by a high wall. rinaldo was shut in with the beast, and a terrible combat ensued. rinaldo was unable to make any impression on the scales of the monster, while he, on the contrary, with his dreadful claws, tore away plate and mail from the paladin. rinaldo began to think his last hour was come, and cast his eyes around and above to see if there was any means of escape. he perceived a beam projecting from the wall at the height of some ten feet, and, taking a leap almost miraculous, he succeeded in reaching it, and in flinging himself up across it. here he sat for hours, the hideous brute continually trying to reach him. all at once he heard the sound of something coming through the air like a bird, and suddenly angelica herself alighted on the end of the beam. she held something in her hand towards him, and spoke to him in a loving voice. but the moment rinaldo saw her he commanded her to go away, refused all her offers of assistance, and at length declared that, if she did not leave him, he would cast himself down to the monster, and meet his fate. angelica, saying she would lose her life rather than displease him, departed; but first she threw to the monster a cake of wax she had prepared, and spread around him a rope knotted with nooses. the beast took the bait, and, finding his teeth glued together by the wax, vented his fury in bounds and leaps, and, soon getting entangled in the nooses, drew them tight by his struggles, so that he could scarcely move a limb. rinaldo, watching his chance, leapt down upon his back, seized him round the neck, and throttled him, not relaxing his gripe till the beast fell dead. another difficulty remained to be overcome. the walls were of immense height, and the only opening in them was a grated window of such strength that he could not break the bars. in his distress rinaldo found a file, which angelica had left on the ground, and, with the help of this, effected his deliverance. what further adventures he met with will be told in another chapter. the siege of albracca at the very time when charlemagne was holding his plenary court and his great tournament his kingdom was invaded by a mighty monarch, who was moreover so valiant and strong in battle that no one could stand against him. he was named gradasso, and his kingdom was called sericane. now, as it often happens to the greatest and the richest to long for what they cannot have, and thus to lose what they already possess, this king could not rest content without durindana, the sword of orlando, and bayard, the horse of rinaldo. to obtain these he determined to war upon france, and for this purpose put in array a mighty army. he took his way through spain, and, after defeating marsilius, the king of that country, in several battles, was rapidly advancing on france. charlemagne, though marsilius was a saracen, and had been his enemy, yet felt it needful to succor him in this extremity from a consideration of common danger, and, with the consent of his peers, despatched rinaldo with a strong body of soldiers against gradasso. there was much fighting, with doubtful results, and gradasso was steadily advancing into france. but, impatient to achieve his objects, he challenged rinaldo to single combat, to be fought on foot, and upon these conditions: if rinaldo conquered, gradasso agreed to give up all his prisoners and return to his own country; but if gradasso won the day, he was to have bayard. the challenge was accepted, and would have been fought had it not been for the arts of malagigi, who just then returned from angelica's kingdom with set purpose to win rinaldo to look with favor upon the fair princess who was dying for love of him. malagigi drew rinaldo away from the army by putting on the semblance of gradasso, and, after a short contest, pretending to fly before him, by which means rinaldo was induced to follow him into a boat, in which he was borne away, and entangled in various adventures, as we have already related. the army, left under the command of ricciardetto, rinaldo's brother, was soon joined by charlemagne and all his peerage, but experienced a disastrous rout, and the emperor and many of his paladins were taken prisoners. gradasso, however, did not abuse his victory; he took charles by the hand, seated him by his side, and told him he warred only for honor. he renounced all conquests, on condition that the emperor should deliver to him bayard and durindana, both of them the property of his vassals, the former of which, as he maintained, was already forfeited to him by rinaldo's failure to meet him as agreed. to these terms charlemagne readily acceded. bayard, after the departure of his master, had been taken in charge by ricciardetto, and sent back to paris, where astolpho was in command, in the absence of charlemagne. astolpho received with great indignation the message despatched for bayard, and replied by a herald that "he would not surrender the horse of his kinsman rinaldo without a contest. if gradasso wanted the steed he might come and take him, and that he, astolpho, was ready to meet him in the field." gradasso was only amused at this answer, for astolpho's fame as a successful warrior was not high, and gradasso willingly renewed with him the bargain which he had made with rinaldo. on these conditions the battle was fought. the enchanted lance, in the hands of astolpho, performed a new wonder; and gradasso, the terrible gradasso, was unhorsed. he kept his word, set free his prisoners, and put his army on the march to return to his own country, renewing his oath, however, not to rest till he had taken from rinaldo his horse, and from orlando his sword, or lost his life in the attempt. charlemagne, full of gratitude to astolpho, would have kept him near his person and loaded him with honors, but astolpho preferred to seek rinaldo, with the view of restoring to him his horse, and departed from paris with that design. our story now returns to orlando, whom we left fascinated with the sight of the sleeping beauty, who, however, escaped him while engaged in the combat with ferrau. having long sought her in vain through the recesses of the wood, he resolved to follow her to her father's court. leaving, therefore, the camp of charlemagne, he travelled long in the direction of the east, making inquiry everywhere, if, perchance, he might get tidings of the fugitive. after many adventures, he arrived one day at a place where many roads crossed, and meeting there a courier, he asked him for news. the courier replied that he had been despatched by angelica to solicit the aid of sacripant, king of circassia, in favor of her father galafron, who was besieged in his city, albracca, by agrican, king of tartary. this agrican had been an unsuccessful suitor to the damsel, whom he now pursued with arms. orlando thus learned that he was within a day's journey of albracca; and, feeling now secure of angelica, he proceeded with all speed to her city. thus journeying he arrived at a bridge, under which flowed a foaming river. here a damsel met him with a goblet, and informed him that it was the usage of this bridge to present the traveller with a cup. orlando accepted the offered cup and drank its contents. he had no sooner done so than his brain reeled, and he became unconscious of the object of his journey, and of everything else. under the influence of this fascination he followed the damsel into a magnificent and marvellous palace. here he found himself in company with many knights, unknown to him and to each other, though if it had not been for the cup of oblivion of which they all had partaken they would have found themselves brothers in arms. astolpho, proceeding on his way to seek rinaldo, splendidly dressed and equipped, as was his wont, arrived in circassia, and found there a great army encamped under the command of sacripant, the king of that country, who was leading it to the defence of galafron, the father of angelica. sacripant, much struck by the appearance of astolpho and his horse, accosted him courteously, and tried to enlist him in his service; but astolpho, proud of his late victories, scornfully declined his offers, and pursued his way. king sacripant was too much attracted by his appearance to part with him so easily, and having laid aside his kingly ornaments, set out in pursuit of him. astolpho next day encountered on his way a stranger knight, named sir florismart, lord of the sylvan tower, one of the bravest and best of knights, having as his guide a damsel, young, fair, and virtuous, to whom he was tenderly attached, whose name was flordelis. astolpho, as he approached, defied the knight, bidding him yield the lady, or prepare to maintain his right by arms. florismart accepted the contest, and the knights encountered. florismart was unhorsed and his steed fell dead, while bayard sustained no injury by the shock. florismart was so overwhelmed with despair at his own disgrace and the sight of the damsel's distress, that he drew his sword, and was about to plunge it into his own bosom. but astolpho held his hand, told him that he contended only for glory, and was contented to leave him the lady. while florismart and flordelis were vowing eternal gratitude king sacripant arrived, and coveting the damsel of the one champion as much as the horse and arms of the other, defied them to the joust. astolpho met the challenger, whom he instantly overthrew, and presented his courser to florismart, leaving the king to return to his army on foot. the friends pursued their route, and ere long flordelis discovered, by signs which were known to her, that they were approaching the waters of oblivion, and advised them to turn back, or to change their course. this the knights would not hear of, and, continuing their march, they soon arrived at the bridge where orlando had been taken prisoner. the damsel of the bridge appeared as before with the enchanted cup, but astolpho, forewarned, rejected it with scorn. she dashed it to the ground, and a fire blazed up which rendered the bridge unapproachable. at the same moment the two knights were assailed by sundry warriors, known and unknown, who, having no recollection of anything, joined blindly in defence of their prison-house. among these was orlando, at sight of whom astolpho, with all his confidence not daring to encounter him, turned and fled, owing his escape to the strength and fleetness of bayard. florismart, meanwhile, overlaid by fearful odds, was compelled to yield to necessity, and comply with the usage of the fairy. he drank of the cup and remained prisoner with the rest. flordelis, deprived of her two friends, retired from the scene, and devoted herself to untiring efforts to effect her lover's deliverance. astolpho pursued his way to albracca, which agrican was about to besiege. he was kindly welcomed by angelica, and enrolled among her defenders. impatient to distinguish himself, he one night sallied forth alone, arrived in agrican's camp, and unhorsed his warriors right and left by means of the enchanted lance. but he was soon surrounded and overmatched, and made prisoner to agrican. relief was, however, at hand; for as the citizens and soldiers were one day leaning over their walls they descried a cloud of dust, from which horsemen were seen to prick forth, as it rolled on towards the camp of the besiegers. this turned out to be the army of sacripant, which immediately attacked that of agrican, with the view of cutting a passage through his camp to the besieged city. but agrican, mounted upon bayard, taken from astolpho, but not armed with the lance of gold, the virtues of which were unknown to him, performed wonders, and rallied his scattered troops, which had given way to the sudden and unexpected assault. sacripant, on the other hand, encouraged his men by the most desperate acts of valor, having as an additional incentive to his courage the sight of angelica, who showed herself upon the city walls. there she witnessed a single combat between the two leaders, agrican and sacripant. in this, at length, her defender appeared to be overmatched, when the circassians broke the ring, and separated the combatants, who were borne asunder in the rush. sacripant, severely wounded, profited by the confusion, and escaped into albracca, where he was kindly received and carefully tended by angelica. the battle continuing, the circassians were at last put to flight, and, being intercepted between the enemy's lines and the town, sought for refuge under the walls. angelica ordered the drawbridge to be let down, and the gates thrown open to the fugitives. with these agrican, not distinguished in the crowd, entered the place, driving both circassians and cathayans before him, and the portcullis being dropped, he was shut in. for a time the terror which he inspired put to flight all opposers, but when at last it came to be known that few or none of his followers had effected an entrance with him, the fugitives rallied and surrounded him on all sides. while he was thus apparently reduced to the last extremities, he was saved by the very circumstance which threatened him with destruction. the soldiers of angelica, closing upon him from all sides, deserted their defences; and his own besieging army entered the city in a part where the wall was broken down. in this way was agrican rescued, the city taken, and the inhabitants put to the sword. angelica, however, with some of the knights who were her defenders, among whom was sacripant, saved herself in the citadel, which was planted upon a rock. the fortress was impregnable, but it was scantily victualled, and ill provided with other necessaries. under these circumstances angelica announced to those blockaded with her in the citadel her intention to go in quest of assistance, and, having plighted her promise of a speedy return, she set out, with the enchanted ring upon her finger. mounted upon her palfrey, the damsel passed through the enemy's lines, and by sunrise was many miles clear of their encampment. it so happened that her road led her near the fatal bridge of oblivion, and as she approached it she met a damsel weeping bitterly. it was flordelis, whose lover, florismart, as we have related, had met the fate of orlando and many more, and fallen a victim to the enchantress of the cup. she related her adventures to angelica, and conjured her to lend what aid she might to rescue her lord and his companions. angelica, accordingly, watching her opportunity and aided by her ring, slipped into the castle unseen, when the door was opened to admit a new victim. here she speedily disenchanted orlando and the rest by a touch of her talisman. but florismart was not there. he had been given up to falerina, a more powerful enchantress, and was still in durance. angelica conjured the rescued captives to assist her in the recovery of her kingdom, and all departed together for albracca. the arrival of orlando, with his companions, nine in all, and among the bravest knights of france, changed at once the fortunes of the war. wherever the great paladin came, pennon and standard fell before him. agrican in vain attempted to rally his troops. orlando kept constantly in his front, forcing him to attend to nobody else. the tartar king at length bethought him of a stratagem. he turned his horse, and made a show of flying in despair. orlando dashed after him as he desired, and agrican fled till he reached a green place in a wood, where there was a fountain. the place was beautiful, and the tartar dismounted to refresh himself at the fountain, but without taking off his helmet, or laying aside any of his armor. orlando was quickly at his back, crying out, "so bold, and yet a fugitive! how could you fly from a single arm and think to escape?" the tartar king had leaped on his saddle the moment he saw his enemy, and when the paladin had done speaking, he said in a mild voice, "without doubt you are the best knight i ever encountered, and fain would i leave you untouched for your own sake, if you would cease to hinder me from rallying my people. i pretended to fly, in order to bring you out of the field. if you insist upon fighting i must needs fight and slay you, but i call the sun in the heavens to witness i would rather not. i should be very sorry for your death." the count orlando felt pity for so much gallantry, and he said, "the nobler you show yourself the more it grieves me to think that in dying without a knowledge of the true faith you will be lost in the other world. let me advise you to save body and soul at once. receive baptism, and go your way in peace." agrican replied: "i suspect you to be the paladin orlando. if you are i would not lose this opportunity of fighting with you to be king of paradise. talk to me no more about your things of another world, for you will preach in vain. each of us for himself, and let the sword be umpire." the saracen drew his sword, boldly advancing upon orlando, and a combat began, so obstinate and so long, each warrior being a miracle of prowess, that the story says it lasted from noon till night. orlando then seeing the stars come out was the first to propose a respite. "what are we to do," said he, "now that daylight has left us?" agrican answered readily enough, "let us repose in this meadow, and renew the combat at dawn." the repose was taken accordingly. each tied up his horse, and reclined himself on the grass, not far from the other, just as if they had been friends, orlando by the fountain, agrican beneath a pine. it was a beautiful clear night, and, as they talked together before addressing themselves to sleep, the champion of christendom, looking up at the firmament, said, "that is a fine piece of workmanship, that starry spectacle; god made it all, that moon of silver, and those stars of gold, and the light of day, and the sun,--all for the sake of human kind." "you wish, i see, to talk of matters of faith," said the tartar. "now i may as well tell you at once that i have no sort of skill in such matters, nor learning of any kind. i never could learn anything when i was a boy. i hated it so that i broke the man's head who was commissioned to teach me; and it produced such an effect on others that nobody ever afterwards dared so much as show me a book. my boyhood was therefore passed, as it should be, in horsemanship and hunting, and learning to fight. what is the good of a gentleman's poring all day over a book? prowess to the knight, and preaching to the clergyman, that is my motto." "i acknowledge," returned orlando, "that arms are the first consideration of a gentleman; but not at all that he does himself dishonor by knowledge. on the contrary, knowledge is as great an embellishment of the rest of his attainments, as the flowers are to the meadow before us; and as to the knowledge of his maker, the man that is without it is no better than a stock or a stone or a brute beast. neither without study can he reach anything of a due sense of the depth and divineness of the contemplation." "learned or not learned," said agrican, "you might show yourself better bred than by endeavoring to make me talk on a subject on which you have me at a disadvantage. if you choose to sleep i wish you good night; but if you prefer talking i recommend you to talk of fighting or of fair ladies. and, by the way, pray tell me, are you not that orlando who makes such a noise in the world? and what is it, pray, that brings you into these parts? were you ever in love? i suppose you must have been; for to be a knight, and never to have been in love, would be like being a man without a heart in his breast." the count replied: "orlando i am, and in love i am. love has made me abandon everything, and brought me into these distant regions, and, to tell you all in one word, my heart is in the hands of the daughter of king galafron. you have come against him with fire and sword, to get possession of his castles and his dominions; and i have come to help him, for no object in the world but to please his daughter and win her beautiful hand. i care for nothing else in existence." now when the tartar king, agrican, heard his antagonist speak in this manner, and knew him to be indeed orlando, and to be in love with angelica, his face changed color for grief and jealousy, though it could not be seen for the darkness. his heart began beating with such violence that he felt as if he should have died. "well," said he to orlando, "we are to fight when it is daylight, and one or other is to be left here, dead on the ground. i have a proposal to make to you--nay, an entreaty. my love is so excessive for the same lady that i beg you to leave her to me. i will owe you my thanks, and give up the siege and put an end to the war. i cannot bear that any one should love her, and that i should live to see it. why, therefore, should either of us perish? give her up. not a soul shall know it." "i never yet," answered orlando, "made a promise which i did not keep, and nevertheless i own to you that, were i to make a promise like that, and even swear to keep it, i should not. you might as well ask me to tear away the limbs from my body, and the eyes out of my head. i could as well live without breath itself as cease loving angelica." agrican had hardly patience to let him finish speaking, ere he leapt furiously on horseback, though it was midnight. "quit her," said he, "or die!" orlando seeing the infidel getting up, and not being sure that he would not add treachery to fierceness, had been hardly less quick in mounting for the combat. "never," exclaimed he; "i never could have quitted her if i would, and now i would not if i could. you must seek her by other means than these." fiercely dashed their horses together, in the nighttime, on the green mead. despiteful and terrible were the blows they gave and took by the moonlight. agrican fought in a rage, orlando was cooler. and now the struggle had lasted more than five hours, and day began to dawn, when the tartar king, furious to find so much trouble given him, dealt his enemy a blow sharp and violent beyond conception. it cut the shield in two as if it had been made of wood, and, though blood could not be drawn from orlando, because he was fated, it shook and bruised him as if it had started every joint in his body. his body only, however, not a particle of his soul. so dreadful was the blow which the paladin gave in return, that not only shield, but every bit of mail on the body of agrican was broken in pieces, and three of his ribs cut asunder. the tartar, roaring like a lion, raised his sword with still greater vehemence than before, and dealt a blow on the paladin's helmet, such as he had never yet received from mortal man. for a moment it took away his senses. his sight failed, his ears tingled, his frightened horse turned about to fly; and he was falling from the saddle, when the very action of falling threw his head upwards, and thus recalled his recollection. "what a shame is this!" thought he; "how shall i ever again dare to face angelica! i have been fighting hour after hour with this man, and he is but one, and i call myself orlando! if the combat last any longer i will bury myself in a monastery, and never look on sword again." orlando muttered with his lips closed and his teeth ground together; and you might have thought that fire instead of breath came out of his nose and mouth. he raised his sword durindana with both his hands, and sent it down so tremendously on agrican's shoulder that it cut through breastplate down to the very haunch, nay, crushed the saddle-bow, though it was made of bone and iron, and felled man and horse to the earth. agrican turned as white as ashes, and felt death upon him. he called orlando to come close to him, with a gentle voice, and said, as well as he could: "i believe on him who died on the cross. baptize me, i pray thee, with the fountain, before my senses are gone. i have lived an evil life, but need not be rebellious to god in death also. may he who came to save all the rest of the world save me!" and he shed tears, that great king, though he had been so lofty and fierce. orlando dismounted quickly, with his own face in tears. he gathered the king tenderly in his arms, and took and laid him by the fountain, on a marble rim that it had, and then he wept in concert with him heartily, and asked his pardon, and so baptized him in the water of the fountain, and knelt and prayed to god for him with joined hands. he then paused and looked at him; and when he perceived his countenance changed, and that his whole person was cold, he left him there on the marble rim of the fountain, all armed as he was, with the sword by his side, and the crown upon his head. adventures of rinaldo and orlando we left rinaldo when, having overcome the monster, he quitted the castle of altaripa, and pursued his way on foot. he soon met with a weeping damsel, who, being questioned as to the cause of her sorrow, told him she was in search of one to do battle to rescue her lover, who had been made prisoner by a vile enchantress, together with orlando and many more. the damsel was flordelis, the lady-love of florismart, and rinaldo promised his assistance, trusting to accomplish the adventure either by valor or skill. flordelis insisted upon rinaldo's taking her horse, which he consented to do, on condition of her mounting behind him. as they rode on through a wood, they heard strange noises, and rinaldo, reassuring the damsel, pressed forward towards the quarter from which they proceeded. he soon perceived a giant standing under a vaulted cavern, with a huge club in his hand, and of an appearance to strike the boldest spirit with dread. by the side of the cavern was chained a griffin, which, together with the giant, was stationed there to guard a wonderful horse, the same which was once argalia's. this horse was a creature of enchantment, matchless in vigor, speed, and form, which disdained to share the diet of his fellow-steeds,--corn or grass,--and fed only on air. his name was rabican. this marvellous horse, after his master argalia had been slain by ferrau, finding himself at liberty, returned to his native cavern, and was here stabled under the protection of the giant and the griffin. as rinaldo approached, the giant assailed him with his club. rinaldo defended himself from the giant's blows, and gave him one in return, which, if his skin had not been of the toughest, would have finished the combat. but the giant, though wounded, escaped, and let loose the griffin. this monstrous bird towered in air, and thence pounced down upon rinaldo, who, watching his opportunity, dealt her a desperate wound. she had, however, strength for another flight, and kept repeating her attacks, which rinaldo parried as he could, while the damsel stood trembling by, witnessing the contest. the battle continued, rendered more terrible by the approach of night, when rinaldo determined upon a desperate expedient to bring it to a conclusion. he fell, as if fainting from his wounds, and, on the close approach of the griffin, dealt her a blow which sheared away one of her wings. the beast, though sinking, griped him fast with her talons, digging through plate and mail; but rinaldo plied his sword in utter desperation, and at last accomplished her destruction. rinaldo then entered the cavern, and found there the wonderful horse, all caparisoned. he was coal-black, except for a star of white on his forehead, and one white foot behind. for speed he was unrivalled, though in strength he yielded to bayard. rinaldo mounted upon rabican, and issued from the cavern. as he pursued his way he met a fugitive from agrican's army, who gave such an account of the prowess of a champion who fought on the side of angelica, that rinaldo was persuaded this must be orlando, though at a loss to imagine how he could have been freed from captivity. he determined to repair to the scene of the contest to satisfy his curiosity, and flordelis, hoping to find florismart with orlando, consented to accompany him. while these things were doing, all was rout and dismay in the tartarian army, from the death of agrican. king galafron, arriving at this juncture with an army for the relief of his capital, albracca, assaulted the enemy's camp, and carried all before him. rinaldo had now reached the scene of action, and was looking on as an unconcerned spectator, when he was espied by galafron. the king instantly recognized the horse rabican, which he had given to argalia when he sent him forth on his ill-omened mission to paris. possessed with the idea that the rider of the horse was the murderer of argalia, galafron rode at rinaldo, and smote him with all his force. rinaldo was not slow to avenge the blow, and it would have gone hard with the king had not his followers instantly closed round him and separated the combatants. rinaldo thus found himself, almost without his own choice, enlisted on the side of the enemies of angelica, which gave him no concern, so completely had his draught from the fountain of hate steeled his mind against her. for several successive days the struggle continued, without any important results, rinaldo meeting the bravest knights of angelica's party, and defeating them one after the other. at length he encountered orlando, and the two knights bitterly reproached one another for the cause they had each adopted, and engaged in a furious combat. orlando was mounted upon bayard, rinaldo's horse, which agrican had by chance become possessed of, and orlando had taken from him as the prize of victory. bayard would not fight against his master, and orlando was getting the worse of the encounter, when suddenly rinaldo, seeing astolpho, who for love of him had arrayed himself on his side, hard beset by numbers, left orlando to rush to the defence of his friend. night prevented the combat from being renewed; but a challenge was given and accepted for their next meeting. but angelica, sighing in her heart for rinaldo, was not willing that he should be again exposed to so terrible a venture. she begged a boon of orlando, promising she would be his if he would do her bidding. on receiving his promise, she enjoined him to set out without delay to destroy the garden of the enchantress falerina, in which many valiant knights had been entrapped, and were imprisoned. orlando departed on his horse brigliadoro, leaving bayard in disgrace for his bad deportment the day before. angelica, to conciliate rinaldo, sent bayard to him; but rinaldo remained unmoved by this as by all her former acts of kindness. when rinaldo learned orlando's departure, he yielded to the entreaties of the lady of florismart, and prepared to fulfil his promise, and rescue her lover from the power of the enchantress. thus both rinaldo and orlando were bound upon the same adventure, but unknown to one another. the castle of falerina was protected by a river, which was crossed by a bridge, kept by a ruffian, who challenged all comers to the combat; and such was his strength that he had thus far prevailed in every encounter, as appeared by the arms of various knights which he had taken from them, and piled up as a trophy on the shore. rinaldo attacked him, but with as bad success as the rest, for the bridge-ward struck him so violent a blow with an iron mace that he fell to the ground. but when the villain approached to strip him of his armor, rinaldo seized him, and the bridge-ward, being unable to free himself, leapt with rinaldo into the lake, where they both disappeared. orlando, meanwhile, in discharge of his promise to angelica, pursued his way in quest of the same adventure. in passing through a wood he saw a cavalier armed at all points, and mounted, keeping guard over a lady who was bound to a tree, weeping bitterly. orlando hastened to her relief, but was exhorted by the knight not to interfere, for she had deserved her fate by her wickedness. in proof of which he made certain charges against her. the lady denied them all, and orlando believed her, defied the knight, overthrew him, and, releasing the lady, departed with her seated on his horse's croup. while they rode another damsel approached on a white palfrey, who warned orlando of impending danger, and informed him that he was near the garden of the enchantress. orlando was delighted with the intelligence, and entreated her to inform him how he was to gain admittance. she replied that the garden could only be entered at sunrise and gave him such instructions as would enable him to gain admittance. she gave him also a book in which was painted the garden and all that it contained, together with the palace of the false enchantress, where she had secluded herself for the purpose of executing a magic work in which she was engaged. this was the manufacture of a sword capable of cutting even through enchanted substances the object of this labor, the damsel told him, was the destruction of a knight of the west, by name orlando, who she had read in the book of fate was coming to demolish her garden. having thus instructed him, the damsel departed. orlando, finding he must delay his enterprise till the next morning, now lay down and was soon asleep. seeing this, the base woman whom he had rescued, and who was intent on making her escape to rejoin her paramour, mounted brigliadoro, and rode off, carrying away durindana. when orlando awoke, his indignation, as may be supposed, was great on the discovery of the theft; but, like a good knight and true, he was not to be diverted from his enterprise. he tore off a huge branch of an elm to supply the place of his sword; and, as the sun rose, took his way towards the gate of the garden, where a dragon was on his watch. this he slew by repeated blows, and entered the garden, the gate of which closed behind him, barring retreat. looking round him, he saw a fair fountain, which overflowed into a river, and in the centre of the fountain a figure, on whose forehead was written: "the stream which waters violet and rose, from hence to the enchanted palace goes." following the banks of this flowing stream, and rapt in the delights of the charming garden, orlando arrived at the palace, and entering it, found the mistress, clad in white, with a crown of gold upon her head, in the act of viewing herself in the surface of the magic sword. orlando surprised her before she could escape, deprived her of the weapon, and holding her fast by her long hair, which floated behind, threatened her with immediate death if she did not yield up her prisoners, and afford him the means of egress. she, however, was firm of purpose, making no reply, and orlando, unable to move her either by threats or entreaties, was under the necessity of binding her to a beech, and pursuing his quest as he best might. he then bethought him of his book, and, consulting it, found that there was an outlet to the south, but that to reach it a lake was to be passed, inhabited by a siren, whose song was so entrancing as to be quite irresistible to whoever heard it; but his book instructed him how to protect himself against this danger. according to its directions, while pursuing his path, he gathered abundance of flowers, which sprung all around, and filled his helmet and his ears with them; then listened if he heard the birds sing. finding that, though he saw the gaping beak, the swelling throat, and ruffled plumes, he could not catch a note, he felt satisfied with his defence, and advanced toward the lake. it was small but deep, and so clear and tranquil that the eye could penetrate to the bottom. he had no, sooner arrived upon the banks than the waters were seen to gurgle, and the siren, rising midway out of the pool, sung so sweetly that birds and beasts came trooping to the water-side to listen. of this orlando heard nothing, but, feigning to yield to the charm, sank down upon the bank. the siren issued from the water with the intent to accomplish his destruction. orlando seized her by the hair, and while she sang yet louder (song being her only defence) cut off her head. then, following the directions of the book, he stained himself all over with her blood. guarded by this talisman, he met successively all the monsters set for defence of the enchantress and her garden, and at length found himself again at the spot where he had made captive the enchantress, who still continued fastened to the beech. but the scene was changed. the garden had disappeared, and falerina, before so haughty, now begged for mercy, assuring him that many lives depended upon the preservation of hers. orlando promised her life upon her pledging herself for the deliverance of her captives. this, however, was no easy task. they were not in her possession, but in that of a much more powerful enchantress, morgana, the lady of the lake, the very idea of opposing whom made falerina turn pale with fear. representing to him the hazards of the enterprise, she led him towards the dwelling of morgana. to approach it he had to encounter the same uncourteous bridge-ward who had already defeated and made captive so many knights, and last of all, rinaldo. he was a churl of the most ferocious character, named arridano. morgana had provided him with impenetrable armor, and endowed him in such a manner that his strength always increased in proportion to that of the adversary with whom he was matched. no one had ever yet escaped from the contest, since, such was his power of endurance, he could breathe freely under water. hence, having grappled with a knight, and sunk with him to the bottom of the lake, he returned, bearing his enemy's arms in triumph to the surface. while falerina was repeating her cautions and her counsels orlando saw rinaldo's arms erected in form of a trophy, among other spoils made by the villain, and, forgetting their late quarrel, determined upon revenging his friend. arriving at the pass, the churl presuming to bar the way, a desperate contest ensued, during which falerina escaped. the churl finding himself overmatched at a contest of arms, resorted to his peculiar art, grappled his antagonist, and plunged with him into the lake. when he reached the bottom orlando found himself in another world, upon a dry meadow, with the lake overhead, through which shone the beams of our sun, while the water stood on all sides like a crystal wall. here the battle was renewed, and orlando had in his magic sword an advantage which none had hitherto possessed. it had been tempered by falerina so that no spells could avail against it. thus armed, and countervailing the strength of his adversary by his superior skill and activity, it was not long before he laid him dead upon the field. orlando then made all haste to return to the upper air, and, passing through the water, which opened a way before him (such was the power of the magic sword), he soon regained the shore, and found himself in a field as thickly covered with precious stones as the sky is with stars. orlando crossed the field, not tempted to delay his enterprise by gathering any of the brilliant gems spread all around him. he next passed into a flowery meadow planted with trees, covered with fruit and flowers, and full of all imaginable delights. in the middle of this meadow was a fountain, and fast by it lay morgana asleep; a lady of a lovely aspect, dressed in white and vermilion garments, her forehead well furnished with hair, while she had scarcely any behind. while orlando stood in silence contemplating her beauty he heard a voice exclaim: "seize the fairy by the forelock, if thou hopest fair success." but his attention was arrested by another object, and he heeded not the warning. he saw on a sudden an array of towers, pinnacles and columns, palaces with balconies and windows, extended alleys with trees, in short a scene of architectural magnificence surpassing all he had ever beheld. while he stood gazing in silent astonishment the scene slowly melted away and disappeared. [footnote: this is a poetical description of a phenomenon which is said to be really exhibited in the strait of messina, between sicily and calabria. it is called fata morgana, or mirage.] when he had recovered from his amazement he looked again toward the fountain. the fairy had awaked and risen, and was dancing round its border with the lightness of a leaf, timing her footsteps to this song: "who in this world would wealth and treasure share, honor, delight, and state, and what is best, quick let him catch me by the lock of hair which flutters from my forehead; and be blest. "but let him not the proffered good forbear, nor till he seize the fleeting blessing rest; for present loss is sought in vain to-morrow, and the deluded wretch is left in sorrow." the fairy, having sung thus, bounded off, and fled from the flowery meadow over a high and inaccessible mountain. orlando pursued her through thorns and rocks, while the sky gradually became overcast, and at last he was assailed by tempest, lightning, and hail. while he thus pursued, a pale and meagre woman issued from a cave, armed with a whip, and, treading close upon his steps, scourged him with vigorous strokes. her name was repentance, and she told him it was her office to punish those who neglected to obey the voice of prudence, and seize the fairy fortune when he might. orlando, furious at this chastisement, turned upon his tormentor, but might as well have stricken the wind. finding it useless to resist, he resumed his chase of the fairy, gained upon her, and made frequent snatches at her white and vermilion garments, which still eluded his grasp. at last, on her turning her head for an instant, he profited by the chance, and seized her by the forelock. in an instant the tempest ceased, the sky became serene, and repentance retreated to her cave. orlando now demanded of morgana the keys of her prison, and the fairy, feigning a complacent aspect, delivered up a key of silver, bidding him to be cautious in the use of it, since to break the lock would be to involve himself and all in inevitable destruction; a caution which gave the count room for long meditation, and led him to consider how few amid the suitors who importune the dame, know how to turn the keys of fortune. keeping the fairy still fast by the forelock, orlando proceeded toward the prison, turned the key, without occasioning the mischiefs apprehended, and delivered the prisoners. among these were florismart, rinaldo, and many others of the bravest knights of france. morgana had disappeared, and the knights, under the guidance of orlando, retraced the path by which he had come. they soon reached the field of treasure. rinaldo, finding himself amidst this mass of wealth, remembered his needy garrison of montalban, and could not resist the temptation of seizing part of the booty. in particular a golden chain, studded with diamonds, was too much for his self-denial, and he took it and was bearing it off, notwithstanding the remonstrances of orlando, when a violent wind caught him and whirled him back, as he approached the gate. this happened a second and a third time, and rinaldo at length yielded to necessity, rather than to the entreaties of his friends, and cast away his prize. they soon reached the bridge and passed over without hindrance to the other side, where they found the trophy decorated with their arms. here each knight resumed his own, and all, except the paladins and their friends, separated as their inclinations or duty prompted. dudon, the dane, one of the rescued knights, informed the cousins that he had been made prisoner by morgana while in the discharge of an embassy to them from charlemagne, who called upon them to return to the defence of christendom. orlando was too much fascinated by angelica to obey this summons, and, followed by the faithful florismart, who would not leave him, returned towards albracca. rinaldo, dudon, iroldo, prasildo, and the others took their way toward the west. the invasion of france agramant, king of africa, convoked the kings, his vassals, to deliberate in council. he reminded them of the injuries he had sustained from france, that his father had fallen in battle with charlemagne, and that his early years had hitherto not allowed him to wipe out the stain of former defeats. he now proposed to them to carry war into france. sobrino, his wisest councillor, opposed the project, representing the rashness of it; but rodomont, the young and fiery king of algiers, denounced sobrino's counsel as base and cowardly, declaring himself impatient for the enterprise. the king of the garamantes, venerable for his age and renowned for his prophetic lore, interposed, and assured the king that such an attempt would be sure to fail, unless he could first get on his side a youth marked out by destiny as the fitting compeer of the most puissant knights of france, the young rogero, descended in direct line from hector of troy. this prince was now a dweller upon the mountain carena, where atlantes, his foster-father, a powerful magician, kept him in retirement, having discovered by his art that his pupil would be lost to him if allowed to mingle with the world. to break the spells of atlantes, and draw rogero from his retirement, one only means was to be found. it was a ring possessed by angelica, princess of cathay, which was a talisman against all enchantments. if this ring could be procured all would go well; without it the enterprise was desperate. rodomont treated this declaration of the old prophet with scorn, and it would probably have been held of little weight by the council, had not the aged king, oppressed by the weight of years, expired in the very act of reaffirming his prediction. this made so deep an impression on the council that it was unanimously resolved to postpone the war until an effort should be made to win rogero to the camp. king agramant thereupon proclaimed that the sovereignty of a kingdom should be the reward of whoever should succeed in obtaining the ring of angelica. brunello the dwarf, the subtlest thief in all africa, undertook to procure it. in prosecution of this design, he made the best of his way to angelica's kingdom, and arrived beneath the walls of albracca while the besieging army was encamped before the fortress. while the attention of the garrison was absorbed by the battle that raged below he scaled the walls, approached the princess unnoticed, slipped the ring from her finger, and escaped unobserved. he hastened to the seaside, and, finding a vessel ready to sail, embarked, and arrived at biserta, in africa. here he found agramant impatient for the talisman which was to foil the enchantments of atlantes and to put rogero into his hands. the dwarf, kneeling before the king, presented him with the ring, and agramant, delighted at the success of his mission, crowned him in recompense king of tingitana. all were now anxious to go in quest of rogero. the cavalcade accordingly departed, and in due time arrived at the mountain of carena. at the bottom of this was a fruitful and well-wooded plain, watered by a large river, and from this plain was descried a beautiful garden on the mountain-top, which contained the mansion of atlantes; but the ring, which discovered what was before invisible, could not, though it revealed this paradise, enable agramant or his followers to enter it. so steep and smooth was the rock by nature, that even brunello failed in every attempt to scale it. he did not, for this, despair of accomplishing the object; but, having obtained agramant's consent, caused the assembled courtiers and knights to celebrate a tournament upon the plain below. this was done with the view of seducing rogero from his fastness, and the stratagem was attended with success. rogero joined the tourney, and was presented by agramant with a splendid horse, frontino, and a magnificent sword. having learned from agramant his intended invasion of france, he gladly consented to join the expedition. rodomont, meanwhile, was too impatient to wait for agramant's arrangements, and embarked with all the forces he could raise, made good his landing on the coast of france, and routed the christians in several encounters. previously to this, however, gano, or ganelon (as he is sometimes called), the traitor, enemy of orlando and the other nephews of charlemagne, had entered into a traitorous correspondence with marsilius, the saracen king of spain, whom he invited into france. marsilius, thus encouraged, led an army across the frontiers, and joined rodomont. this was the situation of things when rinaldo and the other knights who had obeyed the summons of dudon set forward on their return to france. when they arrived at buda in hungary they found the king of that country about despatching his son, ottachiero, with an army to the succor of charlemagne. delighted with the arrival of rinaldo, he placed his son and troops under his command. in due time the army arrived on the frontiers of france, and, united with the troops of desiderius, king of lombardy, poured down into provence. the confederate armies had not marched many days through this gay tract before they heard a crash of drums and trumpets behind the hills, which spoke the conflict between the paynims, led by rodomont, and the christian forces. rinaldo, witnessing from a mountain the prowess of rodomont, left his troops in charge of his friends, and galloped towards him with his lance in rest. the impulse was irresistible, and rodomont was unhorsed. but rinaldo, unwilling to avail himself of his advantage, galloped back to the hill, and having secured bayard among the baggage, returned to finish the combat on foot. during this interval the battle had become general, the hungarians were routed, and rinaldo, on his return, had the mortification to find that ottachiero was wounded, and dudon taken prisoner. while he sought rodomont in order to renew the combat a new sound of drums and trumpets was heard, and charlemagne, with the main body of his army, was descried advancing in battle array. rodomont, seeing this, mounted the horse of dudon, left rinaldo, who was on foot, and galloped off to encounter this new enemy. agramant, accompanied by rogero, had by this time made good his landing, and joined rodomont with all his forces. rogero eagerly embraced this first opportunity of distinguishing himself, and spread terror wherever he went, encountering in turn and overthrowing many of the bravest knights of france. at length he found himself opposite to rinaldo, who, being interrupted, as we have said, in his combat with rodomont, and unable to follow him, being on foot, was shouting to his late foe to return and finish their combat. rogero also was on foot, and seeing the christian knight so eager for a contest, proffered himself to supply the place of his late antagonist. rinaldo saw at a glance that the moorish prince was a champion worthy of his arm, and gladly accepted the defiance. the combat was stoutly maintained for a time; but now fortune declared decisively in favor of the infidel army, and charlemagne's forces gave way at all points in irreparable confusion. the two combatants were separated by the crowd of fugitives and pursuers, and rinaldo hastened to recover possession of his horse. but bayard, in the confusion, had got loose, and rinaldo followed him into a thick wood, thus becoming effectually separated from rogero. rogero, also seeking his horse in the medley, came where two warriors were engaged in mortal combat. though he knew not who they were, he could distinguish that one was a paynim and the other a christian; and moved by the spirit of courtesy he approached them and exclaimed, "let him of the two who worships christ pause, and hear what i have to say. the army of charles is routed and in flight, so that if he wishes to follow his leader he has no time for delay." the christian knight, who was none other than bradamante, a female warrior, in prowess equal to the best of knights, was thunderstruck with the tidings, and would gladly leave the contest undecided, and retire from the field; but rodomont, her antagonist, would by no means consent. rogero, indignant at his discourtesy, insisted upon her departure, while he took up her quarrel with rodomont. the combat, obstinately maintained on both sides, was interrupted by the return of bradamante. finding herself unable to overtake the fugitives, and reluctant to leave to another the burden and risk of a contest which belonged to herself, she had returned to reclaim the combat. she arrived, however, when her champion had dealt his enemy such a blow as obliged him to drop both his sword and bridle. rogero, disdaining to profit by his adversary's defenceless situation, sat apart upon his horse, while that of rodomont bore his rider, stunned and stupefied, about the field. bradamante approached rogero, conceiving a yet higher opinion of his valor on beholding such an instance of forbearance. she addressed him, excusing herself for leaving him exposed to an enemy from his interference in her cause; pleading her duty to her sovereign as the motive. while she spoke rodomont, recovered from his confusion, rode up to them. his bearing was, however, changed; and he disclaimed all thoughts of further contest with one who, he said, "had already conquered him by his courtesy." so saying, he quitted his antagonist, picked up his sword, and spurred out of sight. bradamante was now again desirous of retiring from the field, and rogero insisted on accompanying her, though yet unaware of her sex. as they pursued their way, she inquired the name and quality of her new associate; and rogero informed her of his nation and family. he told her that astyanax, the son of hector of troy, established the kingdom of messina in sicily. from him were derived two branches, which gave origin to two families of renown. from one sprang the royal race of pepin and charlemagne, and from the other, that of reggio, in italy. "from that of reggio am i derived," he continued. "my mother, driven from her home by the chance of war, died in giving me life, and i was taken in charge by a sage enchanter, who trained me to feats of arms amidst the dangers of the desert and the chase." having thus ended his tale, rogero entreated a similar return of courtesy from his companion, who replied, without disguise, that she was of the race of clermont, and sister to rinaldo, whose fame was perhaps known to him. rogero, much moved by this intelligence, entreated her to take off her helmet, and at the discovery of her face remained transported with delight. while absorbed in this contemplation, an unexpected danger assailed them. a party which was placed in a wood, in order to intercept the retreating christians, broke from its ambush upon the pair, and bradamante, who was uncasqued, was wounded in the head. rogero was in a fury at this attack; and bradamante, replacing her helmet, joined him in taking speedy vengeance on their enemies. they cleared the field of them, but became separated in the pursuit, and rogero, quitting the chase, wandered by hill and vale in search of her whom he had no sooner found than lost. while pursuing this quest he fell in with two knights, whom he joined, and engaged them to assist him in the search of his companion, describing her arms, but concealing, from a certain feeling of jealousy, her quality and sex. it was evening when they joined company, and having ridden together through the night the morning was beginning to break, when one of the strangers, fixing his eyes upon rogero's shield, demanded of him by what right he bore the trojan arms. rogero declared his origin and race, and then, in his turn, interrogated the inquirer as to his pretensions to the cognizance of hector, which he bore. the stranger replied, "my name is mandricardo, son of agrican, the tartar king, whom orlando treacherously slew. i say treacherously, for in fair fight he could not have done it. it is in search of him that i have come to france, to take vengeance for my father, and to wrest from him durindana, that famous sword, which belongs to me, and not to him." when the knights demanded to know by what right he claimed durindana, mandricardo thus related his history: "i had been, before the death of my father, a wild and reckless youth. that event awakened my energies, and drove me forth to seek for vengeance. determined to owe success to nothing but my own exertions, i departed without attendants or horse or arms. travelling thus alone, and on foot, i espied one day a pavilion, pitched near a fountain, and entered it, intent on adventure. i found therein a damsel of gracious aspect, who replied to my inquiries that the fountain was the work of a fairy, whose castle stood beyond a neighboring hill, where she kept watch over a treasure which many knights had tried to win, but fruitlessly, having lost their life or liberty in the attempt. this treasure was the armor of hector, prince of troy, whom achilles treacherously slew. nothing was wanting but his sword, durindana, and this had fallen into the possession of a queen named penthesilea, from whom it passed through her descendants to almontes, whom orlando slew, and thus became possessed of the sword. the rest of hector's arms were saved and carried off by aeneas, from whom this fairy received them in recompense of service rendered. 'if you have the courage to attempt their acquisition,' said the damsel, 'i will be your guide.'" mandricardo went on to say that he eagerly embraced the proposal, and being provided with horse and armor by the damsel, set forth on his enterprise, the lady accompanying him. as they rode she explained the dangers of the quest. the armor was defended by a champion, one of the numerous unsuccessful adventurers for the prize, all of whom had been made prisoners by the fairy, and compelled to take their turn, day by day, in defending the arms against all comers. thus speaking they arrived at the castle, which was of alabaster, overlaid with gold. before it, on a lawn, sat an armed knight on horseback, who was none other than gradasso, king of sericane, who, in his return home from his unsuccessful inroad into france, had fallen into the power of the fairy, and was held to do her bidding. mandricardo, upon seeing him, dropt his visor, and laid his lance in rest. the champion of the castle was equally ready, and each spurred towards his opponent. they met one another with equal force, splintered their spears, and, returning to the charge, encountered with their swords. the contest was long and doubtful, when mandricardo, determined to bring it to an end, threw his arms about gradasso, grappled with him, and both fell to the ground. mandricardo, however, fell uppermost, and, preserving his advantage, compelled gradasso to yield himself conquered. the damsel now interfered, congratulating the victor, and consoling the vanquished as well as she might. mandricardo and the damsel proceeded to the gate of the castle, which they found undefended. as they entered they beheld a shield suspended from a pilaster of gold. the device was a white eagle on an azure field, in memory of the bird of jove, which bore away ganymede, the flower of the phrygian race. beneath was engraved the following couplet: "let none with hand profane my buckler wrong unless he be himself as hector strong." the damsel, alighting from her palfrey, made obeisance to the arms, bending herself to the ground. the tartar king bowed his head with equal reverence; then advancing towards the shield, touched it with his sword. thereupon an earthquake shook the ground, and the way by which he had entered closed. another and an opposite gate opened, and displayed a field bristling with stalks and grain of gold. the damsel, upon this, told him that he had no means of retreat but by cutting down the harvest which was before him, and by uprooting a tree which grew in the middle of the field. mandricardo, without replying, began to mow the harvest with his sword, but had scarce smitten thrice when he perceived that every stalk that fell was instantly transformed into some poisonous or ravenous animal, which prepared to assail him. instructed by the damsel, he snatched up a stone and cast it among the pack. a strange wonder followed; for no sooner had the stone fallen among the beasts, than they turned their rage against one another, and rent each other to pieces. mandricardo did not stop to marvel at the miracle, but proceeded to fulfil his task, and uproot the tree. he clasped it round the trunk, and made vigorous efforts to tear it up by the roots. at each effort fell a shower of leaves, that were instantly changed into birds of prey, which attacked the knight, flapping their wings in his face, with horrid screeching. but undismayed by this new annoyance, he continued to tug at the trunk till it yielded to his efforts. a burst of wind and thunder followed, and the hawks and vultures flew screaming away. but these only gave place to a new foe; for from the hole made by tearing up the tree issued a furious serpent, and, darting at mandricardo, wound herself about his limbs with a strain that almost crushed him. fortune, however, again stood his friend, for, writhing under the folds of the monster, he fell backwards into the hole, and his enemy was crushed beneath his weight. mandricardo, when he was somewhat recovered, and assured himself of the destruction of the serpent, began to contemplate the place into which he had fallen, and saw that he was in a vault, incrusted with costly metals, and illuminated by a live coal. in the middle was a sort of ivory bier, and upon this was extended what appeared to be a knight in armor, but was in truth an empty trophy, composed of the rich and precious arms once hector's, to which nothing was wanting but the sword. while mandricardo stood contemplating the prize a door opened behind him, and a bevy of fair damsels entered, dancing, who, taking up the armor piece by piece, led him away to the place where the shield was suspended; where he found the fairy of the castle seated in state. by her he was invested with the arms he had won, first pledging his solemn oath to wear no other blade but durindana, which he was to wrest from orlando, and thus complete the conquest of hector's arms. the invasion of france (continued) mandricardo, having completed his story, now turned to rogero, and proposed that arms should decide which of the two was most worthy to bear the symbol of the trojan knight. rogero felt no other objection to this proposal than the scruple which arose on observing that his antagonist was without a sword. mandricardo insisted that this need be no impediment, since his oath prevented him from using a sword until he should have achieved the conquest of durindana. this was no sooner said than a new antagonist started up in gradasso, who now accompanied mandricardo. gradasso vindicated his prior right to durindana, to obtain which he had embarked (as was related in the beginning) in that bold inroad upon france. a quarrel was thus kindled between the kings of tartary and sericane. while the dispute was raging a knight arrived upon the ground, accompanied by a damsel, to whom rogero related the cause of the strife. the knight was florismart, and his companion flordelis. florismart succeeded in bringing the two champions to accord, by informing them that he could bring them to the presence of orlando, the master of durindana. gradasso and mandricardo readily made truce, in order to accompany florismart, nor would rogero be left behind. as they proceeded on their quest they were met by a dwarf, who entreated their assistance in behalf of his lady, who had been carried off by an enchanter, mounted on a winged horse. however unwilling to leave the question of the sword undecided, it was not possible for the knights to resist this appeal. two of their number, gradasso and rogero, therefore accompanied the dwarf. mandricardo persisted in his search for orlando, and florismart, with flordelis, pursued their way to the camp of charlemagne. atlantes, the enchanter, who had brought up rogero, and cherished for him the warmest affection, knew by his art that his pupil was destined to be severed from him, and converted to the christian faith through the influence of bradamante, that royal maiden with whom chance had brought him acquainted. thinking to thwart the will of heaven in this respect, he now put forth all his arts to entrap rogero into his power. by the aid of his subservient demons he reared a castle on an inaccessible height, in the pyrenean mountains, and to make it a pleasant abode to his pupil, contrived to entrap and convey thither knights and damsels many a one, whom chance had brought into the vicinity of his castle. here, in a sort of sensual paradise, they were but too willing to forget glory and duty, and to pass their time in indolent enjoyment it was by the enchanter that the dwarf had now been sent to tempt the knights into his power. but we must now return to rinaldo, whom we left interrupted in his combat with rodomont. in search of his late antagonist and intent on bringing their combat to a decision he entered the forest of arden, whither he suspected rodomont had gone. while engaged on this quest he was surprised by the vision of a beautiful child dancing naked, with three damsels as beautiful as himself. while he was lost in admiration at the sight the child approached him, and, throwing at him handfuls of roses and lilies, struck him from his horse. he was no sooner down than he was seized by the dancers, by whom he was dragged about and scourged with flowers till he fell into a swoon. when he began to revive one of the group approached him, and told him that his punishment was the consequence of his rebellion against that power before whom all things bend; that there was but one remedy to heal the wounds that had been inflicted, and that was to drink of the waters of love. then they left him. rinaldo, sore and faint, dragged himself toward a fountain which flowed near by, and, being parched with thirst, drank greedily and almost unconsciously of the water, which was sweet to the taste, but bitter to the heart. after repeated draughts he recovered his strength and recollection, and found himself in the same place where angelica had formerly awakened him with a rain of flowers, and whence he had fled in contempt of her courtesy. this remembrance of the scene was followed by the recognition of his crime; and, repenting bitterly his ingratitude, he leaped upon bayard, with the intention of hastening to angelica's country, and soliciting his pardon at her feet. let us now retrace our steps, and revert to the time when the paladins having learned from dudon the summons of charlemagne to return to france to repel the invaders, had all obeyed the command with the exception of orlando, whose passion for angelica still held him in attendance on her. orlando, arriving before albracca, found it closely beleaguered. he, however, made his way into the citadel, and related his adventures to angelica, from the time of his departure up to his separation from rinaldo and the rest, when they departed to the assistance of charlemagne. angelica, in return, described the distresses of the garrison, and the force of the besiegers; and in conclusion prayed orlando to favor her escape from the pressing danger, and escort her into france. orlando, who did not suspect that love for rinaldo was her secret motive, joyfully agreed to the proposal, and the sally was resolved upon. leaving lights burning in the fortress, they departed at nightfall, and passed in safety through the enemy's camp. after encountering numerous adventures they reached the sea-side, and embarked on board a pinnace for france. the vessel arrived safely, and the travellers, disembarking in provence, pursued their way by land. one day, heated and weary, they sought shelter from the sun in the forest of arden, and chance directed angelica to the fountain of disdain, of whose waters she eagerly drank. issuing thence, the count and damsel encountered a stranger- knight. it was no other than rinaldo, who was just on the point of setting off on a pilgrimage in search of angelica, to implore her pardon for his insensibility, and urge his new found passion. surprise and delight at first deprived him of utterance, but soon recovering himself, he joyfully saluted her, claiming her as his, and exhorting her to put herself under his protection. his presumption was repelled by angelica with disdain, and orlando, enraged at the invasion of his rights, challenged him to decide their claims by arms. terrified at the combat which ensued, angelica fled amain through the forest, and came out upon a plain covered with tents. this was the camp of charlemagne, who led the army of reserve destined to support the troops which had advanced to oppose marsilius. charles having heard the damsel's tale, with difficulty separated the two cousins, and then consigned angelica, as the cause of quarrel, to the care of namo, duke of bavaria, promising that she should be his who should best deserve her in the impending battle. but these plans and hopes were frustrated. the christian army, beaten at all points, fled from the saracens; and angelica, indifferent to both her lovers, mounted a swift palfrey and plunged into the forest, rejoicing, in spite of her terror, at having regained her liberty. she stopped at last in a tufted grove, where a gentle zephyr blew, and whose young trees were watered by two clear runnels, which came and mingled their waters, making a pleasing murmur. believing herself far from rinaldo, and overcome by fatigue and the summer heat, she saw with delight a bank covered with flowers so thick that they almost hid the green turf, inviting her to alight and rest. she dismounted from her palfrey, and turned him loose to recruit his strength with the tender grass which bordered the streamlets. then, in a sheltered nook tapestried with moss and fenced in with roses and hawthorn- flowers, she yielded herself to grateful repose. she had not slept long when she was awakened by the noise made by the approach of a horse. starting up, she saw an armed knight who had arrived at the bank of the stream. not knowing whether he was to be feared or not, her heart beat with anxiety. she pressed aside the leaves to allow her to see who it was, but scarce dared to breathe for fear of betraying herself. soon the knight threw himself on the flowery bank, and leaning his head on his hand fell into a profound reverie. then arousing himself from his silence he began to pour forth complaints, mingled with deep sighs. rivers of tears flowed down his cheeks, and his breast seemed to labor with a hidden flame. "ah, vain regrets!" he exclaimed; "cruel fortune! others triumph, while i endure hopeless misery! better a thousand times to lose life, than wear a chain so disgraceful and so oppressive!" angelica by this time had recognized the stranger, and perceived that it was sacripant, king of circassia, one of the worthiest of her suitors. this prince had followed angelica from his country, at the very gates of the day, to france, where he heard with dismay that she was under the guardianship of the paladin orlando, and that the emperor had announced his decree to award her as the prize of valor to that one of his nephews who should best deserve her. as sacripant continued to lament, angelica, who had always opposed the hardness of marble to his sighs, thought with herself that nothing forbade her employing his good offices in this unhappy crisis. though firmly resolved never to accept him as a spouse, she yet felt the necessity of giving him a gleam of hope in reward for the service she required of him. all at once, like diana, she stepped forth from the arbor. "may the gods preserve thee," she said, "and put far from thee all hard thoughts of me!" then she told him all that had befallen her since she parted with him at her father's court, and how she had availed herself of orlando's protection to escape from the beleaguered city. at that moment the noise of horse and armor was heard as of one approaching; and sacripant, furious at the interruption, resumed his helmet, mounted his horse, and placed his lance in rest. he saw a knight advancing, with scarf and plume of snowy whiteness. sacripant regarded him with angry eyes, and, while he was yet some distance off, defied him to the combat. the other, not moved by his angry tone to make reply, put himself on his defence. their horses, struck at the same moment with the spur, rushed upon one another with the impetuosity of a tempest. their shields were pierced each with the other's lance, and only the temper of their breastplates saved their lives. both the horses recoiled with the violence of the shock; but the unknown knight's recovered itself at the touch of the spur; the saracen king's fell dead, and bore down his master with him. the white knight, seeing his enemy in this condition, cared not to renew the combat, but, thinking he had done enough for glory, pursued his way through the forest, and was a mile off before sacripant had got free from his horse. as a ploughman, stunned by a thunder-clap which has stricken dead the oxen at his plough, stands motionless, sadly contemplating his loss, so sacripant stood confounded and overwhelmed with mortification at having angelica a witness of his defeat. he groaned, he sighed, less from the pain of his bruises than for the shame of being reduced to such a state before her. the princess took pity on him, and consoled him as well as she could. "banish your regrets, my lord," she said, "this accident has happened solely in consequence of the feebleness of your horse, which had more need of rest and food than of such an encounter as this. nor can your adversary gain any credit by it, since he has hurried away, not venturing a second trial." while she thus consoled sacripant they perceived a person approach, who seemed a courier, with bag and horn. as soon as he came up, he accosted sacripant, and inquired if he had seen a knight pass that way, bearing a white shield and with a white plume to his helmet. "i have, indeed, seen too much of him," said sacripant, "it is he who has brought me to the ground; but at least i hope to learn from you who that knight is." "that i can easily inform you," said the man; "know then that, if you have been overthrown, you owe your fate to the high prowess of a lady as beautiful as she is brave. it is the fair and illustrious bradamante who has won from you the honors of victory." at these words the courier rode on his way, leaving sacripant more confounded and mortified than ever. in silence he mounted the horse of angelica, taking the lady behind him on the croup, and rode away in search of a more secure asylum. hardly had they ridden two miles when a new sound was heard in the forest, and they perceived a gallant and powerful horse, which, leaping the ravines and dashing aside the branches that opposed his passage, appeared before them, accoutred with a rich harness adorned with gold. "if i may believe my eyes, which penetrate with difficulty the underwood," said angelica, "that horse that dashes so stoutly through the bushes is bayard, and i marvel how he seems to know the need we have of him, mounted as we are both on one feeble animal." sacripant, dismounting from the palfrey, approached the fiery courser, and attempted to seize his bridle, but the disdainful animal, turning from him, launched at him a volley of kicks enough to have shattered a wall of marble. bayard then approached angelica with an air as gentle and loving as a faithful dog could his master after a long separation. for he remembered how she had caressed him, and even fed him, in albracca. she took his bridle in her left hand, while with her right she patted his neck. the beautiful animal, gifted with wonderful intelligence, seemed to submit entirely. sacripant, seizing the moment to vault upon him, controlled his curvetings, and angelica, quitting the croup of the palfrey, regained her seat. but, turning his eyes toward a place where was heard a noise of arms, sacripant beheld rinaldo. that hero now loves angelica more than his life, and she flies him as the timid crane the falcon. the fountain of which angelica had drunk produced such an effect on the beautiful queen that, with distressed countenance and trembling voice, she conjured sacripant not to wait the approach of rinaldo, but to join her in flight. "am i, then," said sacripant, "of so little esteem with you that you doubt my power to defend you? do you forget the battle of albracca, and how, in your defence, i fought single-handed against agrican and all his knights?" angelica made no reply, uncertain what to do; but already rinaldo was too near to be escaped. he advanced menacingly to the circassian king, for he recognized his horse. "vile thief," he cried, "dismount from that horse, and prevent the punishment that is your due for daring to rob me of my property. leave, also, the princess in my hands; for it would indeed be a sin to suffer so charming a lady and so gallant a charger to remain in such keeping." the king of circassia, furious at being thus insulted, cried out, "thou liest, villain, in giving me the name of thief, which better belongs to thyself than to me. it is true, the beauty of this lady and the perfection of this horse are unequalled; come on, then, and let us try which of us is most worthy to possess them." at these words the king of circassia and rinaldo attacked one another with all their force, one fighting on foot, the other on horseback. you need not, however, suppose that the saracen king found any advantage in this; for a young page, unused to horsemanship, could not have failed more completely to manage bayard than did this accomplished knight. the faithful animal loved his master too well to injure him, and refused his aid as well as his obedience to the hand of sacripant, who could strike but ineffectual blows, the horse backing when he wished him to go forward, and dropping his head and arching his back, throwing out with his legs, so as almost to shake the knight out of the saddle. sacripant, seeing that he could not manage him, watched his opportunity, rose on his saddle, and leapt lightly to the earth; then, relieved from the embarrassment of the horse, renewed the combat on more equal terms. their skill to thrust and parry were equal; one rises, the other stoops; with one foot set firm they turn and wind, to lay on strokes or to dodge them. at last rinaldo, throwing himself on the circassian, dealt him a blow so terrible that fusberta, his good sword, cut in two the buckler of sacripant, although it was made of bone, and covered with a thick plate of steel well tempered. the arm of the saracen was deprived of its defence, and almost palsied with the stroke. angelica, perceiving how victory was likely to incline, and shuddering at the thought of becoming the prize of rinaldo, hesitated no longer. turning her horse's head, she fled with the utmost speed; and, in spite of the round pebbles which covered a steep descent, she plunged into a deep valley, trembling with the fear that rinaldo was in pursuit. at the bottom of this valley she encountered an aged hermit, whose white beard flowed to his middle, and whose venerable appearance seemed to assure his piety. this hermit, who appeared shrunk by age and fasting, travelled slowly, mounted upon a wretched ass. the princess, overcome with fear, conjured him to save her life; and to conduct her to some port of the sea, whence she might embark and quit france, never more to hear the odious name of rinaldo. the old hermit was something of a wizard. he comforted angelica, and promised to protect her from all peril. then he opened his scrip, and took from thence a book, and had read but a single page when a goblin, obedient to his incantations, appeared, under the form of a laboring man, and demanded his orders. he received them, transported himself to the place where the knights still maintained their conflict, and boldly stepped between the two. "tell me, i pray you," he said, "what benefit will accrue to him who shall get the better in this contest? the object you are contending for is already disposed of; for the paladin orlando, without effort and without opposition, is now carrying away the princess angelica to paris. you had better pursue them promptly; for if they reach paris you will never see her again." at these words you might have seen those rival warriors confounded, stupefied, silently agreeing that they were affording their rival a fair opportunity to triumph over them. rinaldo, approaching bayard, breathes a sigh of shame and rage, and swears a terrible oath that, if he overtakes orlando, he will tear his heart out. then mounting bayard and pressing his flanks with his spurs, he leaves the king of circassia on foot in the forest. let it not appear strange that rinaldo found bayard obedient at last, after having so long prevented any one from even touching his bridle; for that fine animal had an intelligence almost human; he had fled from his master only to draw him on the track of angelica, and enable him to recover her. he saw when the princess fled from the battle, and rinaldo being then engaged in a fight on foot, bayard found himself free to follow the traces of angelica. thus he had drawn his master after him, not permitting him to approach, and had brought him to the sight of the princess. but bayard now, deceived like his master with the false intelligence of the goblin, submits to be mounted and to serve his master as usual, and rinaldo, animated with rage, makes him fly toward paris, more slowly than his wishes, though the speed of bayard outstripped the winds. full of impatience to encounter orlando, he gave but a few hours that night to sleep. early the next day he saw before him the great city, under the walls of which the emperor charles had collected the scattered remains of his army. foreseeing that he would soon be attacked on all sides, the emperor had caused the ancient fortifications to be repaired, and new ones to be built, surrounded by wide and deep ditches. the desire to hold the field against the enemy made him seize every means of procuring new allies. he hoped to receive from england aid sufficient to enable him to form a new camp, and as soon as rinaldo rejoined him he selected him to go as his ambassador into england, to plead for auxiliaries. rinaldo was far from pleased with his commission, but he obeyed the emperor's commands, without giving himself time to devote a single day to the object nearest his heart. he hastened to calais, and lost not a moment in embarking for england, ardently desiring a hasty despatch of his commission, and a speedy return to france. bradamante and rogero bradamante, the knight of the white plume and shield, whose sudden appearance and encounter with sacripant we have already told, was in quest of rogero, from whom chance had separated her, almost at the beginning of their acquaintance. after her encounter with sacripant bradamante pursued her way through the forest, in hopes of rejoining rogero, and arrived at last on the brink of a fair fountain. this fountain flowed through a broad meadow. ancient trees overshadowed it, and travellers, attracted by the sweet murmur of its waters, stopped there to cool themselves. bradamante, casting her eyes on all sides to enjoy the beauties of the spot, perceived, under the shade of a tree, a knight reclining, who seemed to be oppressed with the deepest grief bradamante accosted him, and asked to be informed of the cause of his distress. "alas! my lord," said he, "i lament a young and charming friend, my affianced wife, who has been torn from me by a villain,--let me rather call him a demon,--who, on a winged horse, descended from the air, seized her, and bore her screaming to his den. i have pursued them over rocks and through ravines till my horse is no longer able to bear me, and i now wait only for death." he added that already a vain attempt on his behalf had been made by two knights, whom chance had brought to the spot. their names were gradasso, king of sericane, and rogero, the moor. both had been overcome by the wiles of the enchanter, and were added to the number of the captives, whom he held in an impregnable castle, situated on the height of the mountain. at the mention of rogero's name bradamante started with delight, which was soon changed to an opposite sentiment when she heard that her lover was a prisoner in the toils of the enchanter. "sir knight," she said, "do not surrender yourself to despair; this day may be more happy for you than you think, if you will only lead me to the castle which enfolds her whom you deplore." the knight responded, "after having lost all that made life dear to me i have no motive to avoid the dangers of the enterprise, and i will do as you request; but i forewarn you of the perils you will have to encounter. if you fall impute it not to me." having thus spoken, they took their way to the castle, but were overtaken by a messenger from the camp, who had been sent in quest of bradamante to summon her back to the army, where her presence was needed to reassure her disheartened forces, and withstand the advance of the moors. the mournful knight, whose name was pinabel, thus became aware that bradamante was a scion of the house of clermont, between which and his own of mayence there existed an ancient feud. from this moment the traitor sought only how he might be rid of the company of bradamante, from whom he feared no good would come to him, but rather mortal injury, if his name and lineage became known to her. for he judged her by his own base model, and, knowing his ill deserts, he feared to receive his due. bradamante, in spite of the summons to return to the army, could not resolve to leave her lover in captivity, and determined first to finish the adventure on which she was engaged. pinabel leading the way, they at length arrived at a wood, in the centre of which rose a steep, rocky mountain. pinabel, who now thought of nothing else but how he might escape from bradamante, proposed to ascend the mountain to extend his view, in order to discover a shelter for the night, if any there might be within sight. under this pretence he left bradamante, and advanced up the side of the mountain till he came to a cleft in the rock, down which he looked, and perceived that it widened below into a spacious cavern. meanwhile bradamante, fearful of losing her guide, had followed close on his footsteps, and rejoined him at the mouth of the cavern. then the traitor, seeing the impossibility of escaping her, conceived another design. he told her that before her approach he had seen in the cavern a young and beautiful damsel, whose rich dress announced her high birth, who with tears and lamentations implored assistance; that before he could descend to relieve her a ruffian had seized her, and hurried her away into the recesses of the cavern. bradamante, full of truth and courage, readily believed this lie of the mayencian traitor. eager to succor the damsel, she looked round for the means of facilitating the descent, and seeing a large elm with spreading branches she lopped off with her sword one of the largest, and thrust it into the opening. she told pinabel to hold fast to the larger end, while, grasping the branches with her hands, she let herself down into the cavern. the traitor smiled at seeing her thus suspended, and, asking her in mockery, "are you a good leaper?" he let go the branch with perfidious glee, and saw bradamante precipitated to the bottom of the cave. "i wish your whole race were there with you," he muttered, "that you might all perish together." but pinabel's atrocious design was not accomplished. the twigs and foliage of the branch broke its descent, and bradamante, not seriously injured, though stunned with her fall, was reserved for other adventures. as soon as she recovered from the shock bradamante cast her eyes around and perceived a door, through which she passed into a second cavern, larger and loftier than the first. it had the appearance of a subterranean temple. columns of the purest alabaster adorned it, and supported the roof; a simple altar rose in the middle; a lamp, whose radiance was reflected by the alabaster walls, cast a mild light around. bradamante, inspired by a sense of religious awe, approached the altar, and, falling on her knees, poured forth her prayers and thanks to the preserver of her life, invoking the protection of his power. at that moment a small door opened, and a female issued from it with naked feet, and flowing robe and hair, who called her by her name, and thus addressed her: "brave and generous bradamante, know that it is a power from above that has brought you hither. the spirit of merlin, whose last earthly abode was in this place, has warned me of your arrival, and of the fate that awaits you. this famous grotto," she continued, "was the work of the enchanter merlin; here his ashes repose. you have no doubt heard how this sage and virtuous enchanter ceased to be. victim of the artful fairy of the lake, merlin, by a fatal compliance with her request, laid himself down living in his tomb, without power to resist the spell laid upon him by that ingrate, who retained him there as long as he lived. his spirit hovers about this spot, and will not leave it, until the last trumpet shall summon the dead to judgment. he answers the questions of those who approach his tomb, where perhaps you may be privileged to hear his voice." bradamante, astonished at these words, and the objects which met her view, knew not whether she was awake or asleep. confused, but modest, she cast down her eyes, and a blush overspread her face. "ah, what am i," said she, "that so great a prophet should deign to speak to me!" still, with a secret satisfaction, she followed the priestess, who led her to the tomb of merlin. this tomb was constructed of a species of stone hard and resplendent like fire. the rays which beamed from the stone sufficed to light up that terrible place, where the sun's rays never penetrated; but i know not whether that light was the effect of a certain phosphorescence of the stone itself, or of the many talismans and charms with which it was wrought over. bradamante had hardly passed the threshold of this sacred place when the spirit of the enchanter saluted her with a voice firm and distinct: "may thy designs be prosperous, o chaste and noble maiden, the future mother of heroes, the glory of italy, and destined to fill the whole world with their fame. great captains, renowned knights, shall be numbered among your descendants, who shall defend the church and restore their country to its ancient splendor. princes, wise as augustus and the sage numa, shall bring back the age of gold. [footnote: this prophecy is introduced by ariosto in this place to compliment the noble house of este, the princes of his native state, the dukedom of ferrara.] to accomplish these grand destinies it is ordained that you shall wed the illustrious rogero. fly then to his deliverance, and lay prostrate in the dust the traitor who has snatched him from you, and now holds him in chains!" merlin ceased with these words, and left to melissa, the priestess, the charge of more fully instructing the maiden in her future course. "to-morrow," said she, "i will conduct you to the castle on the rock where rogero is held captive. i will not leave you till i have guided you through this wild wood, and i will direct you on your way so that you shall be in no danger of mistaking it." the next morning melissa conducted bradamante between rocks and precipices, crossing rapid torrents, and traversing intricate passes, employing the time in imparting to her such information as was necessary to enable her to bring her design to a successful issue. "not only would the castle, impenetrable by force, and that winged horse of his baffle your efforts, but know that he possesses also a buckler whence flashes a light so brilliant that the eyes of all who look upon it are blinded. think not to avoid it by shutting your eyes, for how then will you be able to avoid his blows, and make him feel your own? but i will teach you the proper course to pursue. "agramant, the moorish prince, possesses a ring stolen from a queen of india, which has power to render of no avail all enchantments. agramant, knowing that rogero is of more importance to him than any one of his warriors, is desirous of rescuing him from the power of the enchanter, and has sent for that purpose brunello, the most crafty and sagacious of his servants, provided with his wonderful ring, and he is even now at hand, bent on this enterprise. but, beautiful bradamante, as i desire that no one but yourself shall have the glory of delivering from thraldom your future spouse, listen while i disclose the means of success. following this path which leads by the seashore, you will come ere long to a hostelry, where the saracen brunello will arrive shortly before you. you will readily know him by his stature, under four feet, his great disproportioned head, his squint eyes, his livid hue, his thick eyebrows joining his tufted beard. his dress, moreover, that of a courier, will point him out to you. "it will be easy for you to enter into conversation with him, announcing yourself as a knight seeking combat with the enchanter, but let not the knave suspect that you know anything about the ring. i doubt not that he will be your guide to the castle of the enchanter. accept his offer, but take care to keep behind him till you come in sight of the brilliant dome of the castle. then hesitate not to strike him dead, for the wretch deserves no pity, and take from him the ring. but let him not suspect your intention, for by putting the ring into his mouth he will instantly become invisible, and disappear from your eyes." saying thus, the sage melissa and the fair bradamante arrived near the city of bordeaux, where the rich and wide river garonne pours the tribute of its waves into the sea. they parted with tender embraces. bradamante, intent wholly on her purpose, hastened to arrive at the hostelry, where brunello had preceded her a few moments only. the young heroine knew him without difficulty. she accosted him, and put to him some slight questions, to which he replied with adroit falsehoods. bradamante, on her part, concealed from him her sex, her religion, her country, and the blood from whence she sprung. while they talk together, sudden cries are heard from all parts of the hostelry. "o queen of heaven!" exclaimed bradamante, "what can be the cause of this sudden alarm?" she soon learned the cause. host, children, domestics, all, with upturned eyes, as if they saw a comet or a great eclipse, were gazing on a prodigy which seemed to pass the bounds of possibility. she beheld distinctly a winged horse, mounted with a cavalier in rich armor, cleaving the air with rapid flight. the wings of this strange courser were wide extended, and covered with feathers of various colors. the polished armor of the knight made them shine with rainbow tints. in a short time the horse and rider disappeared behind the summits of the mountains. "it is an enchanter," said the host, "a magician who often is seen traversing the air in that way. sometimes he flies aloft as if among the stars, and at others skims along the land. he possesses a wonderful castle on the top of the pyrenees. many knights have shown their courage by going to attack him, but none have ever returned, from which it is to be feared they have lost either their life or their liberty." bradamante, addressing the host, said, "could you furnish me a guide to conduct me to the castle of this enchanter?" "by my faith," said brunello, interrupting, "that you shall not seek in vain; i have it all in writing, and i will myself conduct you." bradamante, with thanks, accepted him for her guide. the host had a tolerable horse to dispose of, which bradamante bargained for, and the next day, at the first dawn of morning, she took her route by a narrow valley, taking care to have the saracen brunello lead the way. they reached the summit of the pyrenees, whence one may look down on france, spain, and the two seas. from this height they descended again by a fatiguing road into a deep valley. from the middle of this valley an isolated mountain rose, composed of rough and perpendicular rock, on whose summit was the castle, surrounded with a wall of brass. brunello said, "yonder is the stronghold where the enchanter keeps his prisoners; one must have wings to mount thither; it is easy to see that the aid of a flying horse must be necessary for the master of this castle, which he uses for his prison and for his abode." bradamante, sufficiently instructed, saw that the time had now come to possess herself of the ring; but she could not resolve to slay a defenceless man. she seized brunello before he was aware, bound him to a tree, and took from him the ring which he wore on one of his fingers. the cries and entreaties of the perfidious saracen moved her not. she advanced to the foot of the rock whereon the castle stood, and, to draw the magician to the combat, sounded her horn, adding to it cries of defiance. the enchanter delayed not to present himself, mounted on his winged horse. bradamante was struck with surprise mixed with joy when she saw that this person, described as so formidable, bore no lance nor club, nor any other deadly weapon. he had only on his arm a buckler, covered with a cloth, and in his hand an open book. as to the winged horse, there was no enchantment about him. he was a natural animal, of a species which exists in the riphaean mountains. like a griffin, he had the head of an eagle, claws armed with talons, and wings covered with feathers, the rest of his body being that of a horse. this strange animal is called a hippogriff. the heroine attacked the enchanter on his approach, striking on this side and on that, with all the energy of a violent combat, but wounding only the wind; and after this pretended attack had lasted some time dismounted from her horse, as if hoping to do battle more effectually on foot. the enchanter now prepares to employ his sole weapon, by uncovering the magic buckler which never failed to subdue an enemy by depriving him of his senses. bradamante, confiding in her ring, observed all the motions of her adversary, and, at the unveiling of the shield, cast herself on the ground, pretending that the splendor of the shield had overcome her, but in reality to induce the enchanter to dismount and approach her. it happened according to her wish. when the enchanter saw her prostrate he made his horse alight on the ground, and, dismounting, fixed the shield on the pommel of his saddle, and approached in order to secure the fallen warrior. bradamante, who watched him intently, as soon as she saw him near at hand, sprang up, seized him vigorously, threw him down, and, with the same chain which the enchanter had prepared for herself, bound him fast, without his being able to make any effectual resistance. the enchanter, with the accents of despair, exclaimed, "take my life, young man!" but bradamante was far from complying with such a wish. desirous of knowing the name of the enchanter, and for what purpose he had formed with so much art this impregnable fortress, she commanded him to inform her. "alas!" replied the magician, while tears flowed down his cheeks, "it is not to conceal booty, nor for any culpable design that i have built this castle; it was only to guard the life of a young knight, the object of my tenderest affection, my art having taught me that he is destined to become a christian, and to perish, shortly after, by the blackest of treasons. "this youth, named rogero, is the most beautiful and most accomplished of knights. it is i, the unhappy atlantes, who have reared him from his childhood. the call of honor and the desire of glory led him from me to follow agramant, his prince, in his invasion of france, and i, more devoted to rogero than the tenderest of parents, have sought the means of bringing him back to this abode, in the hope of saving him from the cruel fate that menaces him. "for this purpose i have got him in my possession by the same means as i attempted to employ against you; and by which i have succeeded in collecting a great many knights and ladies in my castle. my purpose was to render my beloved pupil's captivity light, by affording him society to amuse him, and keep his thoughts from running on subjects of war and glory. alas! my cares have been in vain! yet, take, i beseech you, whatever else i have, but spare me my beloved pupil. take this shield, take this winged courser, deliver such of your friends as you may find among my prisoners, deliver them all if you will, but leave me my beloved rogero; or if you will snatch him too from me, take also my life, which will cease then to be to me worth preserving." bradamante replied: "old man, hope not to move me by your vain entreaties. it is precisely the liberty of rogero that i require. you would keep him here in bondage and in slothful pleasure, to save him from a fate which you foresee. vain old man! how can you foresee his fate when you could not foresee your own? you desire me to take your life. no, my aim and my soul refuse the request." this said, she required the magician to go before, and guide her to the castle. the prisoners were set at liberty, though some, in their secret hearts, regretted the voluptuous life which was thus brought to an end. bradamante and rogero met one another with transports of joy. they descended from the mountain to the spot where the encounter had taken place. there they found the hippogriff, with the magic buckler in its wrapper, hanging to his saddle-bow. bradamante advanced to seize the bridle; the hippogriff seemed to wait her approach, but before she reached him he spread his wings and flew away to a neighboring hill, and in the same manner, a second time, eluded her efforts. rogero and the other liberated knights dispersed over the plain and hilltops to secure him, and at last the animal allowed rogero to seize his rein. the fearless rogero hesitated not to vault upon his back, and let him feel his spurs, which so roused his mettle that, after galloping a short distance, he suddenly spread his wings, and soared into the air. bradamante had the grief to see her lover snatched away from her at the very moment of reunion. rogero, who knew not the art of directing the horse, was unable to control his flight. he found himself carried over the tops of the mountains, so far above them that he could hardly distinguish what was land and what water. the hippogriff directed his flight to the west, and cleaved the air as swiftly as a new-rigged vessel cuts the waves, impelled by the freshest and most favorable gales. astolpho and the enchantress in the long flight which rogero took on the back of the hippogriff he was carried over land and sea, unknowing whither. as soon as he had gained some control over the animal he made him alight on the nearest land. when he came near enough to earth rogero leapt lightly from his back, and tied the animal to a myrtle-tree. near the spot flowed the pure waters of a fountain, surrounded by cedars and palm-trees. rogero laid aside his shield, and, removing his helmet, breathed with delight the fresh air, and cooled his lips with the waters of the fountain. for we cannot wonder that he was excessively fatigued, considering the ride he had taken. he was preparing to taste the sweets of repose when he perceived that the hippogriff, which he had tied by the bridle to a myrtle-tree, frightened at something, was making violent efforts to disengage himself. his struggle shook the myrtle-tree so that many of its beautiful leaves were torn off, and strewed the ground. a sound like that which issues from burning wood seemed to come from the myrtle-tree, at first faint and indistinct, but growing stronger by degrees, and at length was audible as a voice which spoke in this manner: "o knight, if the tenderness of your heart corresponds to the beauty of your person, relieve me, i pray you, from this tormenting animal. i suffer enough inwardly without having outward evils added to my lot." rogero, at the first accents of this voice, turned his eyes promptly on the myrtle, hastened to it, and stood fixed in astonishment when he perceived that the voice issued from the tree itself. he immediately untied his horse, and, flushed with surprise and regret, exclaimed, "whoever thou art, whether mortal or the goddess of these woods, forgive me, i beseech you, my involuntary fault. had i imagined that this hard bark covered a being possessed of feeling, could i have exposed such a beautiful myrtle to the insults of this steed? may the sweet influences of the sky and air speedily repair the injury i have done! for my part, i promise by the sovereign lady of my heart to do everything you wish in order to merit your forgiveness." at these words the myrtle seemed to tremble from root to stem, and rogero remarked that a moisture as of tears trickled down its bark, like that which exudes from a log placed on the fire. it then spoke: "the kindness which inspires your words compels me to disclose to you who i once was, and by what fatality i have been changed into this shape. my name was astolpho, cousin of orlando and rinaldo, whose fame has filled the earth. i was myself reckoned among the bravest paladins of france, and was by birth entitled to reign over england, after otho, my father. returning from the distant east, with rinaldo and many other brave knights, called home to aid with our arms the great emperor of france, we reached a spot where the powerful enchantress alcina possessed a castle on the borders of the sea. she had gone to the water-side to amuse herself with fishing, and we paused to see how, by her art, without hook or line, she drew from the water whatever she would. "not far from the shore an enormous whale showed a back so broad and motionless that it looked like an island. alcina had fixed her eyes on me, and planned to get me into her power. addressing us, she said: 'this is the hour when the prettiest mermaid in the sea comes regularly every day to the shore of yonder island. she sings so sweetly that the very waves flow smoother at the sound. if you wish to hear her come with me to her resort.' so saying, alcina pointed to the fish, which we all supposed to be an island. i, who was rash, did not hesitate to follow her; but swam my horse over, and mounted on the back of the fish. in vain rinaldo and dudon made signs to me to beware; alcina, smiling, took me in charge, and led the way. no sooner were we mounted upon him than the whale moved off, spreading his great fins, and cleft rapidly the waters. i then saw my folly, but it was too late to repent. alcina soothed my anger, and professed that what she had done was for love of me. ere long we arrived at this island, where at first everything was done to reconcile me to my lot, and to make my days pass happily away. but soon alcina, sated with her conquest, grew indifferent, then weary of me, and at last, to get rid of me, changed me into this form, as she had done to many lovers before me, making some of them olives, some palms, some cedars, changing others into fountains, rocks, or even into wild beasts. and thou, courteous knight, whom accident has brought to this enchanted isle, beware that she get not the power over thee, or thou shalt haply be made like us, a tree, a fountain, or a rock." rogero expressed his astonishment at this recital. astolpho added that the island was in great part subject to the sway of alcina. by the aid of her sister morgana, she had succeeded in dispossessing a third sister, logestilla, of nearly the whole of her patrimony, for the whole isle was hers originally by her father's bequest. but logestilla was temperate and sage, while the other sisters were false and voluptuous. her empire was divided from theirs by a gulf and chain of mountains, which alone had thus far prevented her sister from usurping it. astolpho here ended his tale, and rogero, who knew that he was the cousin of bradamante, would gladly have devised some way for his relief; but, as that was out of his power, he consoled him as well as he could, and then begged to be told the way to the palace of logestilla, and how to avoid that of alcina. astolpho directed him to take the road to the left, though rough and full of rocks. he warned him that this road would present serious obstacles; that troops of monsters would oppose his passage, employed by the art of alcina to prevent her subjects from escaping from her dominion. rogero thanked the myrtle, and prepared to set out on his way. he at first thought he would mount the winged horse, and scale the mountain on his back; but he was too uncertain of his power to control him to wish to encounter the hazard of another flight through the air, besides that he was almost famished for the want of food. so he led the horse after him, and took the road on foot, which for some distance led equally to the dominions of both the sisters. he had not advanced more than two miles when he saw before him the superb city of alcina. it was surrounded with a wall of gold, which seemed to reach the skies. i know that some think that this wall was not of real gold, but only the work of alchemy; it matters not; i prefer to think it gold, for it certainly shone like gold. a broad and level road led to the gates of the city, and from this another branched off, narrow and rough, which led to the mountain region. rogero took without hesitation the narrow road; but he had no sooner entered upon it than he was assailed by a numerous troop which opposed his passage. you never have seen anything so ridiculous, so extraordinary, as this host of hobgoblins were. some of them bore the human form from the neck to the feet, but had the head of a monkey or a cat; others had the legs and the ears of a horse; old men and women, bald and hideous, ran hither and thither as if out of their senses, half clad in the shaggy skins of beasts; one rode full speed on a horse without a bridle, another jogged along mounted on an ass or a cow; others, full of agility, skipped about, and clung to the tails and manes of the animals which their companions rode. some blew horns, others brandished drinking-cups; some were armed with spits, and some with pitchforks. one, who appeared to be the captain, had an enormous belly and a gross fat head; he was mounted on a tortoise, that waddled, now this way, now that, without keeping any one direction. one of these monsters, who had something approaching the human form, though he had the neck, ears, and muzzle of a dog, set himself to bark furiously at rogero, to make him turn off to the right, and reenter upon the road to the gay city; but the brave chevalier exclaimed, "that will i not, so long as i can use this sword,"--and he thrust the point directly at his face. the monster tried to strike him with a lance, but rogero was too quick for him, and thrust his sword through his body, so that it appeared a hand's breadth behind his back. the paladin, now giving full vent to his rage, laid about him vigorously among the rabble, cleaving one to the teeth, another to the girdle; but the troop were so numerous, and in spite of his blows pressed around him so close, that, to clear his way, he must have had as many arms as briareus. if rogero had uncovered the shield of the enchanter, which hung at his saddle-bow, he might easily have vanquished this monstrous rout; but perhaps he did not think of it, and perhaps he preferred to seek his defence nowhere but in his good sword. at that moment, when his perplexity was at its height, he saw issue from the city gate two young beauties, whose air and dress proclaimed their rank and gentle nurture. each of them was mounted on a unicorn, whose whiteness surpassed that of ermine. they advanced to the meadow where rogero was contending so valiantly against the hobgoblins, who all retired at their approach. they drew near, they extended their hands to the young warrior, whose cheeks glowed with the flush of exercise and modesty. grateful for their assistance, he expressed his thanks, and, having no heart to refuse them, followed their guidance to the gate of the city. this grand and beautiful entrance was adorned by a portico of four vast columns, all of diamond. whether they were real diamond or artificial i cannot say. what matter is it, so long as they appeared to the eye like diamond, and nothing could be more gay and splendid. on the threshold, and between the columns, was seen a bevy of charming young women, who played and frolicked together. they all ran to receive rogero, and conducted him into the palace, which appeared like a paradise. we might well call by that name this abode, where the hours flew by, without account, in ever-new delights. the bare idea of satiety, want, and, above all, of age, never entered the minds of the inhabitants. they experienced no sensations except those of luxury and gayety; the cup of happiness seemed for them ever- flowing and exhaustless. the two young damsels to whom rogero owed his deliverance from the hobgoblins conducted him to the apartment of their mistress. the beautiful alcina advanced, and greeted him with an air at once dignified and courteous. all her court surrounded the paladin, and rendered him the most flattering attentions. the castle was less admirable for its magnificence than for the charms of those who inhabited it. they were of either sex, well matched in beauty, youth, and grace; but among this charming group the brilliant alcina shone, as the sun outshines the stars. the young warrior was fascinated. all that he had heard from the myrtle-tree appeared to him but a vile calumny. how could he suspect that falsehood and treason veiled themselves under smiles and the ingenuous air of truth? he doubted not that astolpho had deserved his fate, and perhaps a punishment more severe; he regarded all his stories as dictated by a disappointed spirit, and a thirst for revenge. but we must not condemn rogero too harshly, for he was the victim of magic power. they seated themselves at table, and immediately harmonious lyres and harps waked the air with the most ravishing notes. the charms of poetry were added in entertaining recitals; the magnificence of the feast would have done credit to a royal board. the traitress forgot nothing which might charm the paladin, and attach him to the spot, meaning, when she should grow tired of him, to metamorphose him as she had done others. in the same manner passed each succeeding day. games of pleasant exercise, the chase, the dance, or rural sports, made the hours pass quickly; while they gave zest to the refreshment of the bath, or sleep. thus rogero led a life of ease and luxury, while charlemagne and agramant were struggling for empire. but i cannot linger with him while the amiable and courageous bradamante is night and day directing her uncertain steps to every spot where the slightest chance invites her, in the hope of recovering rogero. i will therefore say that, having sought him in vain in fields and in cities, she knew not whither next to direct her steps. she did not apprehend the death of rogero. the fall of such a hero would have reechoed from the hydaspes to the farthest river of the west; but, not knowing whether he was on the earth or in the air, she concluded, as a last resource, to return to the cavern which contained the tomb of merlin, to ask of him some sure direction to the object of her search. while this thought occupied her mind, melissa, the sage enchantress, suddenly appeared before her. this virtuous and beneficent magician had discovered by her spells that rogero was passing his time in pleasure and idleness, forgetful of his honor and his sovereign. not able to endure the thought that one who was born to be a hero should waste his years in base repose, and leave a sullied reputation in the memory of survivors, she saw that vigorous measures must be employed to draw him forth into the paths of virtue. melissa was not blinded by her affection for the amiable paladin, like atlantes, who, intent only on preserving rogero's life, cared nothing for his fame. it was that old enchanter whose arts had guided the hippogriff to the isle of the too charming alcina, where he hoped his favorite would learn to forget honor, and lose the love of glory. at the sight of melissa joy lighted up the countenance of bradamante, and hope animated her breast. melissa concealed nothing from her, but told her how rogero was in the toils of alcina. bradamante was plunged in grief and terror; but the kind enchantress calmed her, dispelled her fears, and promised that before many days she would lead back the paladin to her feet. "my daughter," she said, "give me the ring which you wear, and which possesses the power to overcome enchantments. by means of it i doubt not but that i may enter the stronghold where the false alcina holds rogero in durance, and may succeed in vanquishing her and liberating him." bradamante unhesitatingly delivered her the ring, recommending rogero to her best efforts. melissa then summoned by her art a huge palfrey, black as jet, excepting one foot, which was bay. mounted upon this animal, she rode with such speed that by the next morning she had reached the abode of alcina. she here transformed herself into the perfect resemblance of the old magician atlantes, adding a palm-breadth to her height, and enlarging her whole figure. her chin she covered with a long beard, and seamed her whole visage well with wrinkles. she assumed also his voice and manner, and watched her chance to find rogero alone. at last she found him, dressed in a rich tunic of silk and gold, a collar of precious stones about his neck, and his arms, once so rough with exercise, decorated with bracelets. his air and his every motion indicated effeminacy, and he seemed to retain nothing of rogero but the name; such power had the enchantress obtained over him. melissa, under the form of his old instructor, presented herself before him, wearing a stern and serious visage. "is this, then," she said, "the fruit of all my labors? is it for this that i fed you on the marrow of bears and lions, that i taught you to subdue dragons, and, like hercules, strangle serpents in your youthful grasp, only to make you, by all my cares, a feeble adonis? my nightly watchings of the stars, of the yet warm fibres of animals, the lots i have cast, the points of nativity that i have calculated, have they all falsely indicated that you were born for greatness? who could have believed that you would become the slave of a base enchantress? o rogero, learn to know this alcina, learn to understand her arts and to countervail them. take this ring, place it on your finger, return to her presence, and see for yourself what are her real charms." at these words, rogero, confused, abashed, cast his eyes upon the ground, and knew not what to answer. melissa seized the moment, slipped the ring on his finger, and the paladin was himself again. what a thunderclap to him! overcome by shame, he dared not to encounter the looks of his instructor. when at last he raised his eyes he beheld not that venerable form, but the priestess melissa, who in virtue of the ring now appeared in her true person. she told him of the motives which had led her to come to his rescue, of the griefs and regrets of bradamante, and of her unwearied search for him. "that charming amazon," she said, "sends you this ring, which is a sovereign antidote to all enchantments. she would have sent you her heart in my hands, if it would have had greater power to serve you." it was needless for melissa to say more. rogero's love for alcina, being but the work of enchantment, vanished as soon as the enchantment was withdrawn, and he now hated her with an equal intensity, seeing no longer anything in her but her vices, and feeling only resentment for the shame that she had put upon him. his surprise when he again beheld alcina was no less than his indignation. fortified by his ring from her enchantments, he saw her as she was, a monster of ugliness. all her charms were artificial, and, truly viewed, were rather deformities. she was, in fact, older than hecuba or the sibyl of cumae; but an art, which it is to be regretted our times have lost, enabled her to appear charming, and to clothe herself in all the attractions of youth. rogero now saw all this, but, governed by the counsels of melissa, he concealed his surprise, assumed under some pretext his armor, long neglected, and bound to his side belisarda, his trusty sword, taking also the buckler of atlantes, covered with its veil. he then selected a horse from the stables of alcina, without exciting her suspicions; but he left the hippogriff, by the advice of melissa, who promised to take him in charge, and train him to a more manageable state. the horse he took was rabican, which belonged to astolpho. he restored the ring to melissa. rogero had not ridden far when he met one of the huntsmen of alcina, bearing a falcon on his wrist, and followed by a dog. the huntsman was mounted on a powerful horse, and came boldly up to the paladin, demanding, in a somewhat imperious manner, whither he was going so rapidly. rogero disdained to stop or to reply; whereupon the huntsman, not doubting that he was about making his escape, said, "what if i, with my falcon, stop your ride?" so saying, he threw off the bird, which even rabican could not equal in speed. the huntsman then leapt from his horse, and the animal, open-mouthed, darted after rogero with the swiftness of an arrow. the huntsman also ran as if the wind or fire bore him, and the dog was equal to rabican in swiftness. rogero, finding flight impossible, stopped and faced his pursuers; but his sword was useless against such foes. the insolent huntsman assailed him with words, and struck him with his whip, the only weapon he had; the dog bit his feet, and the horse drove at him with his hoofs. at the same time the falcon flew over his head and over rabican's and attacked them with claws and wings, so that the horse in his fright began to be unmanageable. at that moment the sound of trumpets and cymbals was heard in the valley, and it was evident that alcina had ordered out all her array to go in pursuit. rogero felt that there was no time to be lost, and luckily remembered the shield of atlantes, which he bore suspended from his neck. he unveiled it, and the charm worked wonderfully. the huntsman, the dog, the horse, fell flat; the trembling wings of the falcon could no longer sustain her, and she fell senseless to the ground. rogero, rid of their annoyances, left them in their trance, and rode away. meanwhile alcina, with all the force she could muster, sallied forth from her palace in pursuit. melissa, left behind, took advantage of the opportunity to ransack all the rooms, protected by the ring. she undid one by one all the talismans and spells which she found, broke the seals, burned the images, and untied the hagknots. thence, hurrying through the fields, she disenchanted the victims changed into trees, fountains, stones, or brutes; all of whom recovered their liberty, and vowed eternal gratitude to their deliverer. they made their escape, with all possible despatch, to the realms of the good logestilla, whence they departed to their several homes. astolpho was the first whom melissa liberated, for rogero had particularly recommended him to her care. she aided him to recover his arms, and particularly that precious golden-headed lance which once was argalia's. the enchantress mounted with him upon the winged horse, and in a short time arrived through the air at the castle of logestilla, where rogero joined them soon after. in this abode the friends passed a short period of delightful and improving intercourse with the sage logestilla and her virtuous court; and then each departed, rogero with the hippogriff, ring, and buckler; astolpho with his golden lance, and mounted on rabican, the fleetest of steeds. to rogero logestilla gave a bit and bridle suited to govern the hippogriff; and to astolpho a horn of marvellous powers, to be sounded only when all other weapons were unavailing. the orc we left the charming angelica at the moment when, in her flight from her contending lovers, sacripant and rinaldo, she met an aged hermit. we have seen that her request to the hermit was to furnish her the means of gaining the sea-coast, eager to avoid rinaldo, whom she hated, by leaving france and europe itself. the pretended hermit, who was no other than a vile magician, knowing well that it would not be agreeable to his false gods to aid angelica in this undertaking, feigned to comply with her desire. he supplied her a horse, into which he had by his arts caused a subtle devil to enter, and, having mounted angelica on the animal, directed her what course to take to reach the sea. angelica rode on her way without suspicion, but when arrived at the shore, the demon urged the animal headlong into the water. angelica in vain attempted to turn him back to the land; he continued his course till, as night approached, he landed with his burden on a sandy headland. angelica, finding herself alone, abandoned in this frightful solitude, remained without movement, as if stupefied, with hands joined and eyes turned towards heaven, till at last, pouring forth a torrent of tears, she exclaimed: "cruel fortune, have you not yet exhausted your rage against me? to what new miseries do you doom me? alas! then finish your work! deliver me a prey to some ferocious beast, or by whatever fate you choose bring me to an end. i will be thankful to you for terminating my life and my misery." at last, exhausted by her sorrows, she fell asleep, and sunk prostrate on the sand. before recounting what next befell, we must declare what place it was upon which the unhappy lady was now thrown. in the sea that washes the coast of ireland there is an island called ebuda, whose inhabitants, once numerous, had been wasted by the anger of proteus till there were now but few left. this deity was incensed by some neglect of the usual honors which he had in old times received from the inhabitants of the land, and, to execute his vengeance, had sent a horrid sea-monster, called an orc, to devour them. such were the terrors of his ravages that the whole people of the isle had shut themselves up in the principal town, and relied on their walls alone to protect them. in this distress they applied to the oracle for advice, and were directed to appease the wrath of the sea-monster by offering to him the fairest virgin that the country could produce. now it so happened that the very day when this dreadful oracle was announced, and when the fatal mandate had gone forth to seek among the fairest maidens of the land one to be offered to the monster, some sailors, landing on the beach where angelica was, beheld that beauty as she lay asleep. o blind chance! whose power in human affairs is but too great, canst thou then abandon to the teeth of a horrible monster those charms which different sovereigns took arms against one another to possess? alas! the lovely angelica is destined to be the victim of those cruel islanders. still asleep, she was bound by the ebudians, and it was not until she was carried on board the vessel that she came to a knowledge of her situation. the wind filled the sails and wafted the ship swiftly to the port, where all that beheld her agreed that she was unquestionably the victim selected by proteus himself to be his prey. who can tell the screams, the mortal anguish of this unhappy maiden, the reproaches she addressed even to the heavens themselves, when the dreadful information of her cruel fate was made known to her? i cannot; let me rather turn to a happier part of my story. rogero left the palace of logestilla, careering on his flying courser far above the tops of the mountains, and borne westward by the hippogriff, which he guided with ease, by means of the bridle that melissa had given him. anxious as he was to recover bradamante, he could not fail to be delighted at the view his rapid flight presented of so many vast regions and populous countries as he passed over in his career. at last he approached the shores of england, and perceived an immense army in all the splendor of military pomp, as if about to go forth flushed with hopes of victory. he caused the hippogriff to alight not far from the scene, and found himself immediately surrounded by admiring spectators, knights and soldiers, who could not enough indulge their curiosity and wonder. rogero learned, in reply to his questions, that the fine array of troops before him was the army destined to go to the aid of the french emperor, in compliance with the request presented by the illustrious rinaldo, as ambassador of king charles, his uncle. by this time the curiosity of the english chevaliers was partly gratified in beholding the hippogriff at rest, and rogero, to renew their surprise and delight, remounted the animal, and, slapping spurs to his sides, made him launch into the air with the rapidity of a meteor, and directed his flight still westwardly, till he came within sight of the coasts of ireland. here he descried what seemed to be a fair damsel, alone, fast chained to a rock which projected into the sea. what was his astonishment when, drawing nigh, he beheld the beautiful princess angelica! that day she had been led forth and bound to the rock, there to wait till the sea-monster should come to devour her. rogero exclaimed as he came near, "what cruel hands, what barbarous soul, what fatal chance can have loaded thee with those chains?" angelica replied by a torrent of tears, at first her only response; then, in a trembling voice, she disclosed to him the horrible destiny for which she was there exposed. while she spoke, a terrible roaring was heard far off on the sea. the huge monster soon came in sight, part of his body appearing above the waves and part concealed. angelica, half dead with fear, abandoned herself to despair. rogero, lance in rest, spurred his hippogriff toward the orc, and gave him a thrust. the horrible monster was like nothing that nature produces. it was but one mass of tossing and twisting body, with nothing of the animal but head, eyes, and mouth, the last furnished with tusks like those of the wild boar. rogero's lance had struck him between the eyes; but rock and iron are not more impenetrable than were his scales. the knight, seeing the fruitlessness of the first blow, prepared to give a second. the animal, beholding upon the water the shadow of the great wings of the hippogriff, abandoned his prey, and turned to seize what seemed nearer. rogero took the opportunity, and dealt him furious blows on various parts of his body, taking care to keep clear of his murderous teeth; but the scales resisted every attack. the orc beat the water with his tail till he raised a foam which enveloped rogero and his steed, so that the knight hardly knew whether he was in the water or the air. he began to fear that the wings of the hippogriff would be so drenched with water that they would cease to sustain him. at that moment rogero bethought him of the magic shield which hung at his saddle-bow; but the fear that angelica would also be blinded by its glare discouraged him from employing it. then he remembered the ring which melissa had given him, the power of which he had so lately proved. he hastened to angelica and placed it on her finger. then, uncovering the buckler, he turned its bright disk full in the face of the detestable orc. the effect was instantaneous. the monster, deprived of sense and motion, rolled over on the sea, and lay floating on his back. rogero would fain have tried the effect of his lance on the now exposed parts, but angelica implored him to lose no time in delivering her from her chains before the monster should revive. rogero, moved with her entreaties, hastened to do so, and, having unbound her, made her mount behind him on the hippogriff. the animal, spurning the earth, shot up into the air, and rapidly sped his way through it. rogero, to give time to the princess to rest after her cruel agitations, soon sought the earth again, alighting on the shore of brittany. near the shore a thick wood presented itself, which resounded with the songs of birds. in the midst, a fountain of transparent water bathed the turf of a little meadow. a gentle hill rose near by. rogero, making the hippogriff alight in the meadow, dismounted, and took angelica from the horse. when the first tumults of emotion had subsided angelica, casting her eyes downward, beheld the precious ring upon her finger, whose virtues she was well acquainted with, for it was the very ring which the saracen brunello had robbed her of. she drew it from her finger and placed it in her mouth, and, quicker than we can tell it, disappeared from the sight of the paladin. rogero looked around him on all sides, like one frantic, but soon remembered the ring which he had so lately placed on her finger. struck with the ingratitude which could thus recompense his services, he exclaimed: "thankless beauty, is this then the reward you make me? do you prefer to rob me of my ring rather than receive it as a gift? willingly would i have given it to you, had you but asked it." thus he said, searching on all sides with arms extended like a blind man, hoping to recover by the touch what was lost to sight; but he sought in vain. the cruel beauty was already far away. though sensible of her obligations to her deliverer, her first necessity was for clothing, food, and repose. she soon reached a shepherd's hut, where, entering unseen, she found what sufficed for her present relief. an old herdsman inhabited the hut, whose charges consisted of a drove of mares. when recruited by repose angelica selected one of the mares from the flock, and, mounting the animal, felt the desire revive in her mind of returning to her home in the east, and for that purpose would gladly have accepted the protection of orlando or of sacripant across those wide regions which divided her from her own country. in hopes of meeting with one or the other of them she pursued her way. meanwhile rogero, despairing of seeing angelica again, returned to the tree where he had left his winged horse, but had the mortification to find that the animal had broken his bridle and escaped. this loss, added to his previous disappointment, overwhelmed him with vexation. sadly he gathered up his arms, threw his buckler over his shoulders, and, taking the first path that offered, soon found himself within the verge of a dense and widespread forest. he had proceeded for some distance when he heard a noise on his right, and, listening attentively, distinguished the clash of arms. he made his way toward the place whence the sound proceeded, and found two warriors engaged in mortal combat. one of them was a knight of a noble and manly bearing, the other a fierce giant. the knight appeared to exert consummate address in defending herself against the massive club of the giant, evading his strokes, or parrying them with sword or shield. rogero stood spectator of the combat, for he did not allow himself to interfere in it, though a secret sentiment inclined him strongly to take part with the knight. at length he saw with grief the massive club fall directly on the head of the knight, who yielded to the blow, and fell prostrate. the giant sprang forward to despatch him, and for that purpose unlaced his helmet, when rogero, with dismay, recognized the face of bradamante. he cried aloud, "hold, miscreant!" and sprang forward with drawn sword. whereupon the giant, as if he cared not to enter upon another combat, lifted bradamante on his shoulders, and ran with her into the forest. rogero plunged after him, but the long legs of the giant carried him forward so fast that the paladin could hardly keep him in sight. at length they issued from the wood, and rogero perceived before him a rich palace, built of marble, and adorned with sculptures executed by a master hand. into this edifice, through a golden door, the giant passed, and rogero followed; but, on looking round, saw nowhere either the giant or bradamante. he ran from room to room, calling aloud on his cowardly foe to turn and meet him; but got no response, nor caught another glimpse of the giant or his prey. in his vain pursuit he met, without knowing them, ferrau, florismart, king gradasso, orlando, and many others, all of whom had been entrapped like himself into this enchanted castle. it was a new stratagem of the magician atlantes to draw rogero into his power, and to secure also those who might by any chance endanger his safety. what rogero had taken for bradamante was a mere phantom. that charming lady was far away, full of anxiety for her rogero, whose coming she had long expected. the emperor had committed to her charge the city and garrison of marseilles, and she held the post against the infidels with valor and discretion. one day melissa suddenly presented herself before her. anticipating her questions, she said, "fear not for rogero; he lives, and is as ever true to you; but he has lost his liberty. the fell enchanter has again succeeded in making him a prisoner. if you would deliver him, mount your horse and follow me." she told her in what manner atlantes had deceived rogero, in deluding his eyes with the phantom of herself in peril. "such," she continued, "will be his arts in your own case, if you penetrate the forest and approach that castle. you will think you behold rogero, when, in fact, you see only the enchanter himself. be not deceived, plunge your sword into his body, and trust me when i tell you that, in slaying him, you will restore not only rogero, but with him many of the bravest knights of france, whom the wizard's arts have withdrawn from the camp of their sovereign." bradamante promptly armed herself, and mounted her horse. melissa led her by forced journeys, by field and forest, beguiling the way with conversation on the theme which interested her hearer most. when at last they reached the forest, she repeated once more her instructions, and then took her leave, for fear the enchanter might espy her, and be put on his guard. bradamante rode on about two miles when suddenly she beheld rogero, as it appeared to her, hard pressed by two fierce giants. while she hesitated she heard his voice calling on her for help. at once the cautions of melissa lost their weight. a sudden doubt of the faith and truth of her kind monitress flashed across her mind. "shall i not believe my own eyes and ears?" she said, and rushed forward to his defence. rogero fled, pursued by the giants, and bradamante followed, passing with them through the castle gate. when there, bradamante was undeceived, for neither giant nor knight was to be seen. she found herself a prisoner, but had not the consolation of knowing that she shared the imprisonment of her beloved. she saw various forms of men and women, but could recognize none of them; and their lot was the same with respect to her. each viewed the others under some illusion of the fancy, wearing the semblance of giants, dwarfs, or even four-footed animals, so that there was no companionship or communication between them. astolpho's adventures continued, and isabella's begun when astolpho escaped from the cruel alcina, after a short abode in the realm of the virtuous logestilla, he desired to return to his native country. logestilla lent him the best vessel of her fleet to convey him to the mainland. she gave him at parting a wonderful book, which taught the secret of overcoming all manners of enchantments, and begged him to carry it always with him, out of regard for her. she also gave him another gift, which surpassed everything of the kind that mortal workmanship can frame; yet it was nothing in appearance but a simple horn. astolpho, protected by these gifts, thanked the good fairy, took leave of her, and set out on his return to france. his voyage was prosperous, and on reaching the desired port he took leave of the faithful mariners, and continued his journey by land. as he proceeded over mountains and through valleys he often met with bands of robbers, wild beasts, and venomous serpents, but he had only to sound his horn to put them all to flight. having landed in france, and traversed many provinces on his way to the army, he one day, in crossing a forest, arrived beside a fountain, and alighted to drink. while he stooped at the fountain a young rustic sprang from the copse, mounted rabican, and rode away. it was a new trick of the enchanter atlantes. astolpho, hearing the noise, turned his head just in time to see his loss; and, starting up, pursued the thief, who, on his part, did not press the horse to his full speed, but just kept in sight of his pursuer till they both issued from the forest; and then rabican and his rider took shelter in a castle which stood near. astolpho followed, and penetrated without difficulty within the court-yard of the castle, where he looked around for the rider and his horse, but could see no trace of either, nor any person of whom he could make inquiry. suspecting that enchantment was employed to embarrass him, he bethought him of his book, and on consulting it discovered that his suspicions were well founded. he also learned what course to pursue. he was directed to raise the stone which served as a threshold, under which a spirit lay pent, who would willingly escape, and leave the castle free of access. astolpho applied his strength to lift aside the stone. thereupon the magician put his arts in force. the castle was full of prisoners, and the magician caused that to all of them astolpho should appear in some false guise--to some a wild beast, to others a giant, to others a bird of prey. thus all assailed him, and would quickly have made an end of him, if he had not bethought him of his horn. no sooner had he blown a blast than, at the horrid larum, fled the cavaliers and the necromancer with them, like a flock of pigeons at the sound of the fowler's gun. astolpho then renewed his efforts on the stone, and turned it over. the under face was all inscribed with magical characters, which the knight defaced, as directed by his book; and no sooner had he done so, than the castle, with its walls and turrets, vanished into smoke. the knights and ladies set at liberty were, besides rogero and bradamante, orlando, gradasso, florismart, and many more. at the sound of the horn they fled, one and all, men and steeds, except rabican, which astolpho secured, in spite of his terror. as soon as the sound had ceased rogero recognized bradamante, whom he had daily met during their imprisonment, but had been prevented from knowing by the enchanter's arts. no words can tell the delight with which they recognized each other, and recounted mutually all that had happened to each since they were parted. rogero took advantage of the opportunity to press his suit, and found bradamante as propitious as he could wish, were it not for a single obstacle, the difference of their faiths. "if he would obtain her in marriage," she said, "he must in due form demand her of her father, duke aymon, and must abandon his false prophet, and become a christian." the latter step was one which rogero had for some time intended taking, for reasons of his own. he therefore gladly accepted the terms, and proposed that they should at once repair to the abbey of vallombrosa, whose towers were visible at no great distance. thither they turned their horses' heads, and we will leave them to find their way without our company. i know not if my readers recollect that at the moment when rogero had just delivered angelica from the voracious orc that scornful beauty placed her ring in her mouth, and vanished out of sight. at the same time the hippogriff shook off his bridle, soared away, and flew to rejoin his former master, very naturally returning to his accustomed stable. here astolpho found him, to his very great delight. he knew the animal's powers, having seen rogero ride him, and he longed to fly abroad over all the earth, and see various nations and peoples from his airy course. he had heard logestilla's directions how to guide the animal, and saw her fit a bridle to his head. he therefore was able, out of all the bridles he found in the stable, to select one suitable, and, placing rabican's saddle on the hippogriff's back, nothing seemed to prevent his immediate departure. yet before he went he bethought him of placing rabican in hands where he would be safe, and whence he might recover him in time of need. while he stood deliberating where he should find a messenger, he saw bradamante approach. that fair warrior had been parted from rogero on their way to the abbey of vallombrosa, by an inopportune adventure which had called the knight away. she was now returning to montalban, having arranged with rogero to join her there. to bradamante, therefore, his fair cousin, astolpho committed rabican, and also the lance of gold, which would only be an incumbrance in his aerial excursion. bradamante took charge of both; and astolpho, bidding her farewell, soared in air. among those delivered by astolpho from the magician's castle was orlando. following the guide of chance, the paladin found himself at the close of day in a forest, and stopped at the foot of a mountain. surprised to discern a light which came from a cleft in the rock, he approached, guided by the ray, and discovered a narrow passage in the mountain-side, which led into a deep grotto. orlando fastened his horse, and then, putting aside the bushes that resisted his passage, stepped down from rock to rock till he reached a sort of cavern. entering it, he perceived a lady, young and handsome, as well as he could discover through the signs of distress which agitated her countenance. her only companion was an old woman, who seemed to be regarded by her young partner with terror and indignation. the courteous paladin saluted the women respectfully, and begged to know by whose barbarity they had been subjected to such imprisonment. the younger lady replied, in a voice often broken with sobs: "though i know well that my recital will subject me to worse treatment by the barbarous man who keeps me here, to whom this woman will not fail to report it, yet i will not hide from you the facts. ah! why should i fear his rage? if he should take my life, i know not what better boon than death i can ask. "my name is isabella. i am the daughter of the king of galicia, or rather i should say misfortune and grief are my parents. young, rich, modest, and of tranquil temper, all things appeared to combine to render my lot happy. alas! i see myself to-day poor, humbled, miserable, and destined perhaps to yet further afflictions. it is a year since, my father having given notice that he would open the lists for a tournament at bayonne, a great number of chevaliers from all quarters came together at our court. among these zerbino, son of the king of scotland, victorious in all combats, eclipsed by his beauty and his valor all the rest. before departing from the court of galicia he testified the wish to espouse me, and i consented that he should demand my hand of the king, my father. but i was a mahometan, and zerbino a christian, and my father refused his consent. the prince, called home by his father to take command of the forces destined to the assistance of the french emperor, prevailed on me to be married to him secretly, and to follow him to scotland. he caused a galley to be prepared to receive me, and placed in command of it the chevalier oderic, a biscayan, famous for his exploits both by land and sea. on the day appointed, oderic brought his vessel to a seaside resort of my father's, where i embarked. some of my domestics accompanied me, and thus i departed from my native land. "sailing with a fair wind, after some hours we were assailed by a violent tempest. it was to no purpose that we took in all sail; we were driven before the wind directly upon the rocky shore. seeing no other hopes of safety, oderic placed me in a boat, followed himself with a few of his men, and made for land. we reached it through infinite peril, and i no sooner felt the firm land beneath my feet, than i knelt down and poured out heartfelt thanks to the providence that had preserved me. "the shore where we landed appeared to be uninhabited. we saw no dwelling to shelter us, no road to lead us to a more hospitable spot. a high mountain rose before us, whose base stretched into the sea. it was here the infamous oderic, in spite of my tears and entreaties, sold me to a band of pirates, who fancied i might be an acceptable present to their prince, the sultan of morocco. this cavern is their den, and here they keep me under the guard of this woman, until it shall suit their convenience to carry me away." isabella had hardly finished her recital when a troop of armed men began to enter the cavern. seeing the prince orlando, one said to the rest, "what bird is this we have caught, without even setting a snare for him?" then addressing orlando, "it was truly civil in you, friend, to come hither with that handsome coat of armor and vest, the very things i want." "you shall pay for them, then," said orlando; and seizing a half-burnt brand from the fire, he hurled it at him, striking his head, and stretching him lifeless on the floor. there was a massy table in the middle of the cavern, used for the pirates' repasts. orlando lifted it and hurled it at the robbers as they stood clustered in a group toward the entrance. half the gang were laid prostrate, with broken heads and limbs; the rest got away as nimbly as they could. leaving the den and its inmates to their fate, orlando, taking isabella under his protection, pursued his way for some days, without meeting with any adventure. one day they saw a band of men advancing, who seemed to be guarding a prisoner, bound hand and foot, as if being carried to execution. the prisoner was a youthful cavalier, of a noble and ingenuous appearance. the band bore the ensigns of count anselm, head of the treacherous house of maganza. orlando desired isabella to wait, while he rode forward to inquire the meaning of this array. approaching, he demanded of the leader who his prisoner was, and of what crime he had been guilty. the man replied that the prisoner was a murderer, by whose hand pinabel, the son of count anselm, had been treacherously slain. at these words the prisoner exclaimed, "i am no murderer, nor have i been in any way the cause of the young man's death." orlando, knowing the cruel and ferocious character of the chiefs of the house of maganza, needed no more to satisfy him that the youth was the victim of injustice. he commanded the leader of the troop to release his victim, and, receiving an insolent reply, dashed him to the earth with a stroke of his lance; then by a few vigorous blows dispersed the band, leaving deadly marks on those who were slowest to quit the field. orlando then hastened to unbind the prisoner, and to assist him to reclothe himself in his armor, which the false magencian had dared to assume. he then led him to isabella, who now approached the scene of action. how can we picture the joy, the astonishment, with which isabella recognized in him zerbino, her husband, and the prince discovered her whom he had believed overwhelmed in the waves! they embraced one another, and wept for joy. orlando, sharing in their happiness, congratulated himself in having been the instrument of it. the princess recounted to zerbino what the illustrious paladin had done for her, and the prince threw himself at orlando's feet, and thanked him as having twice preserved his life. while these exchanges of congratulation and thankfulness were going on, a sound in the underwood attracted their attention, and caused the two knights to brace their helmets and stand on their guard. what the cause of the interruption was we shall record in another chapter. medoro france was at this time the theatre of dreadful events. the saracens and the christians, in numerous encounters, slew one another. on one occasion rinaldo led an attack on the infidel columns, broke and scattered them, till he found himself opposite to a knight whose armor (whether by accident or by choice, it matters not) bore the blazon of orlando. it was dardinel, the young and brave prince of zumara, and rinaldo remarked him by the slaughter he spread all around. "ah," said he to himself, "let us pluck up this dangerous plant before it has grown to its full height." as rinaldo advanced, the crowd opened before him, the christians to let his sword have free course, the pagans to escape its sweep. dardinel and he stood face to face. rinaldo exclaimed, fiercely, "young man, whoever gave you that noble buckler to bear made you a dangerous gift; i should like to see how you are able to defend those quarterings, red and white. if you cannot defend them against me, how pray will you do so when orlando challenges them?" dardinel replied: "thou shalt learn that i can defend the arms i bear, and shed new glory upon them. no one shall rend them from me but with life." saying these words, dardinel rushed upon rinaldo with sword uplifted. the chill of mortal terror filled the souls of the saracens when they beheld rinaldo advance to attack the prince, like a lion against a young bull. the first blow came from the hand of dardinel, and the weapon rebounded from mambrino's helmet without effect. rinaldo smiled, and said, "i will now show you if my strokes are more effectual." at these words he thrust the unfortunate dardinel in the middle of his breast. the blow was so violent that the cruel weapon pierced the body, and came out a palm-breadth behind his back. through this wound the life of dardinel issued with his blood, and his body fell helpless to the ground. as a flower which the passing plough has uprooted languishes, and droops its head, so dardinel, his visage covered with the paleness of death, expires, and the hopes of an illustrious race perish with him. like waters kept back by a dike, which, when the dike is broken, spread abroad through all the country, so the moors, no longer kept in column by the example of dardinel, fled in all directions. rinaldo despised too much such easy victories to pursue them; he wished for no combats but with brave men. at the same time, the other paladins made terrible slaughter of the moors. charles himself, oliver, guido, and ogier the dane, carried death into their ranks on all sides. the infidels seemed doomed to perish to a man on that dreadful day; but the wise king, marsilius, at last put some slight degree of method into the general rout. he collected the remnant of the troops, formed them into a battalion, and retreated in tolerable order to his camp. that camp was well fortified by intrenchments and a broad ditch. thither the fugitives hastened, and by degrees all that remained of the moorish army was brought together there. the emperor might perhaps that night have crushed his enemy entirely; but not thinking it prudent to expose his troops, fatigued as they were, to an attack upon a camp so well fortified, he contented himself with encompassing the enemy with his troops, prepared to make a regular siege. during the night the moors had time to see the extent of their loss. their tents resounded with lamentations. this warrior had to mourn a brother, that a friend; many suffered with grievous wounds, all trembled at the fate in store for them. there were two young moors, both of humble rank, who gave proof at that time of attachment and fidelity rare in the history of man. cloridan and medoro had followed their prince, dardinel, to the wars of france. cloridan, a bold huntsman, combined strength with activity. medoro was a mere youth, his cheeks yet fair and blooming. of all the saracens, no one united so much grace and beauty. his light hair was set off by his black and sparkling eyes. the two friends were together on guard at the rampart. about midnight they gazed on the scene in deep dejection. medoro, with tears in his eyes, spoke of the good prince dardinel, and could not endure the thought that his body should be cast out on the plain, deprived of funeral honors. "o my friend," said he, "must then the body of our prince be the prey of wolves and ravens? alas! when i remember how he loved me, i feel that if i should sacrifice my life to do him honor, i should not do more than my duty. i wish, dear friend, to seek out his body on the battlefield, and give it burial, and i hope to be able to pass through king charles's camp without discovery, as they are probably all asleep. you, cloridan, will be able to say for me, if i should die in the adventure, that gratitude and fidelity to my prince were my inducements." cloridan was both surprised and touched with this proof of the young man's devotion. he loved him tenderly, and tried for a long time every effort to dissuade him from his design; but he found medoro determined to accomplish his object or die in the endeavor. cloridan, unable to change his purpose, said, "i will go with you, medoro, and help you in this generous enterprise. i value not life compared with honor, and if i did, do you suppose, dear friend, that i could live without you? i would rather fall by the arms of our enemies than die of grief for the loss of you." when the two friends were relieved from their guard duty they went without any followers into the camp of the christians. all there was still; the fires were dying out; there was no fear of any attempt on the part of the saracens, and the soldiers, overcome by fatigue or wine, slept secure, lying upon the ground in the midst of their arms and equipage. cloridan stopped, and said, "medoro, i am not going to quit this camp without taking vengeance for the death of our prince. keep watch, be on your guard that no one shall surprise us; i mean to mark a road with my sword through the ranks of our enemies." so saying, he entered the tent where alpheus slept, who a year before had joined the camp of charles, and pretended to be a great physician and astrologer. but his science had deceived him, if it gave him hope of dying peacefully in his bed at a good old age; his lot was to die with little warning. cloridan ran his sword through his heart. a greek and a german followed, who had been playing late at dice: fortunate if they had continued their game a little longer; but they never reckoned a throw like this among their chances. cloridan next came to the unlucky grillon, whose head lay softly on his pillow. he dreamed probably of the feast from which he had but just retired; for when cloridan cut off his head wine flowed forth with the blood. the two young moors might have penetrated even to the tent of charlemagne; but knowing that the paladins encamped around him kept watch by turns, and judging that it was impossible they should all be asleep, they were afraid to go too near. they might also have obtained rich booty; but, intent only on their object, they crossed the camp, and arrived at length at the bloody field, where bucklers, lances, and swords lay scattered in the midst of corpses of poor and rich, common soldier and prince, horses and pools of blood. this terrible scene of carnage would have destroyed all hope of finding what they were in search of until dawn of day, were it not that the moon lent the aid of her uncertain rays. medoro raised his eyes to the planet, and exclaimed, "o holy goddess, whom our fathers have adored under three different forms,--thou who displayest thy power in heaven, on earth, and in the underworld,--thou who art seen foremost among the nymphs chasing the beasts of the forest,--cause me to see, i implore thee, the spot where my dear master lies, and make me all my life long follow the example which thou dost exhibit of works of charity and love." either by accident, or that the moon was sensible of the prayer of medoro, the cloud broke away, and the moonlight burst forth as bright as day. the rays seemed especially to gild the spot where lay the body of prince dardinel; and medoro, bathed in tears and with bleeding heart, recognized him by the quarterings of red and white on his shield. with groans stifled by his tears, and lamentations in accents suppressed, not from any fear for himself, for he cared not for life, but lest any one should be roused to interrupt their pious duty while yet incomplete, he proposed to his companion that they should together bear dardinel on their shoulders, sharing the burden of the beloved remains. marching with rapid strides under their precious load, they perceived that the stars began to grow pale, and that the shades of night would soon be dispersed by the dawn. just then zerbino, whose extreme valor had urged him far from the camp in pursuit of the fugitives, returning, entered the wood in which they were. some knights in his train perceived at a distance the two brothers-in-arms. cloridan saw the troop, and, observing that they dispersed themselves over the plain as if in search of booty, told medoro to lay down the body, and let each save himself by flight. he dropped his part, thinking that medoro would do the same; but the good youth loved his prince too well to abandon him, and continued to carry his load singly as well as he might, while cloridan made his escape. near by there was a part of the wood tufted as if nothing but wild animals had ever penetrated it. the unfortunate youth, loaded with the weight of his dead master, plunged into its recesses. cloridan, when he perceived that he had evaded his foes, discovered that medoro was not with him. "ah!" exclaimed he, "how could i, dear medoro, so forget myself as to consult my own safety without heeding yours?" so saying, he retraced the tangled passes of the wood toward the place from whence he had fled. as he approached he heard the noise of horses, and the menacing voices of armed men. soon he perceived medoro, on foot, with the cavaliers surrounding him. zerbino, their commander, bade them seize him. the unhappy medoro turned now this way, now that, trying to conceal himself behind an oak or a rock, still bearing the body, which he would by no means leave. cloridan not knowing how to help him, but resolved to perish with him, if he must perish, takes an arrow, fits it to his bow, discharges it, and pierces the breast of a christian knight, who falls helpless from his horse. the others look this way and that, to discover whence the fatal bolt was sped. one, while demanding of his comrades in what direction the arrow came, received a second in his throat, which stopped his words, and soon closed his eyes to the scene. zerbino, furious at the death of his two comrades, ran upon medoro, seized his golden hair, and dragged him forward to slay him. but the sight of so much youth and beauty commanded pity. he stayed his arm. the young man spoke in suppliant tones. "ah! signor," said he, "i conjure you by the god whom you serve, deprive me not of life until i shall have buried the body of the prince, my master. fear not that i will ask you any other favor; life is not dear to me; i desire death as soon as i shall have performed this sacred duty. do with me then as you please. give my limbs a prey to the birds and beasts; only let me first bury my prince." medoro pronounced these words with an air so sweet and tender that a heart of stone would have been moved by them. zerbino was so to the bottom of his soul. he was on the point of uttering words of mercy, when a cruel subaltern, forgetting all respect to his commander, plunged his lance into the breast of the young moor. zerbino, enraged at his brutality, turned upon the wretch to take vengeance, but he saved himself by a precipitate flight. cloridan, who saw medoro fall, could contain himself no longer. he rushed from his concealment, threw down his bow, and, sword in hand, seemed only desirous of vengeance for medoro, and to die with him. in a moment, pierced through and through with many wounds, he exerts the last remnant of his strength in dragging himself to medoro, to die embracing him. the cavaliers left them thus to rejoin zerbino, whose rage against the murderer of medoro had drawn him away from the spot. cloridan died; and medoro, bleeding copiously, was drawing near his end when help arrived. a young maiden approached the fallen knights at this critical moment. her dress was that of a peasant-girl, but her air was noble, and her beauty celestial; sweetness and goodness reigned in her lovely countenance. it was no other than angelica, the princess of cathay. when she had recovered that precious ring, as we have before related, angelica, knowing its value, felt proud in the power it conferred, travelled alone without fear, not without a secret shame that she had ever been obliged to seek protection in her wanderings of the count orlando and of sacripant. she reproached herself too as with a weakness that she had ever thought of marrying rinaldo; in fine, her pride grew so high as to persuade her that no man living was worthy to aspire to her hand. moved with pity at the sight of the young man wounded, and melted to tears at hearing the cause, she quickly recalled to remembrance the knowledge she had acquired in india, where the virtues of plants and the art of healing formed part of the education even of princesses. the beautiful queen ran into the adjoining meadow to gather plants of virtue to staunch the flow of blood. meeting on her way a countryman on horseback seeking a strayed heifer, she begged him to come to her assistance, and endeavor to remove the wounded man to a more secure asylum. angelica, having prepared the plants by bruising them between two stones, laid them with her fair hand on medoro's wound. the remedy soon restored in some degree the strength of the wounded man, who, before he would quit the spot, made them cover with earth and turf the bodies of his friend and of the prince. then surrendering himself to the pity of his deliverers, he allowed them to place him on the horse of the shepherd, and conduct him to his cottage. it was a pleasant farmhouse on the borders of the wood, bearing marks of comfort and competency. there the shepherd lived with his wife and children. there angelica tended medoro, and there, by the devoted care of the beautiful queen, his sad wound closed over, and he recovered his perfect health. o count rinaldo, o king sacripant! what availed it you to possess so many virtues and such fame? what advantage have you derived from all your high deserts? o hapless king, great agrican! if you could return to life, how would you endure to see yourself rejected by one who will bow to the yoke of hymen in favor of a young soldier of humble birth? and thou, ferrau, and ye numerous others who a hundred times have put your lives at hazard for this cruel beauty, how bitter will it be to you to see her sacrifice you all to the claims of the humble medoro! there, under the low roof of a shepherd, the flame of hymen was lighted for this haughty queen. she takes the shepherd's wife to serve in place of mother, the shepherd and his children for witnesses, and marries the happy medoro. angelica, after her marriage, wishing to endow medoro with the sovereignty of the countries which yet remained to her, took with him the road to the east. she had preserved through all her adventures a bracelet of gold enriched with precious stones, the present of the count orlando. having nothing else wherewith to reward the good shepherd and his wife, who had served her with so much care and fidelity, she took the bracelet from her arm and gave it to them, and then the newly-married couple directed their steps toward those mountains which separate france and spain, intending to wait at barcelona a vessel which should take them on their way to the east. orlando mad orlando, on the loss of angelica, laid aside his crest and arms, and arrayed himself in a suit of black armor expressive of his despair. in this guise he carried such slaughter among the ranks of the infidels that both armies were astonished at the achievements of the stranger knight. mandricardo, who had been absent from the battle, heard the report of these achievements and determined to test for himself the valor of the knight so extolled. he it was who broke in upon the conference of zerbino and isabella, and their benefactor orlando, as they stood occupied in mutual felicitations, after the happy reunion of the lovers by the prowess of the paladin. mandricardo, after contemplating the group for a moment, addressed himself to orlando in these words: "thou must be the man i seek. for ten days and more i have been on thy track. the fame of thy exploits has brought me hither, that i may measure my strength with thine. thy crest and shield prove thee the same who spread such slaughter among our troops. but these marks are superfluous, and if i saw thee among a hundred i should know thee by thy martial bearing to be the man i seek." "i respect thy courage," said orlando; "such a design could not have sprung up in any but a brave and generous soul. if the desire to see me has brought thee hither, i would, if it were possible, show thee my inmost soul. i will remove my visor, that you may satisfy your curiosity; but when you have done so i hope that you will also try and see if my valor corresponds to my appearance." "come on," said the saracen, "my first wish was to see and know thee; i will not gratify my second." orlando, observing mandricardo was surprised to see no sword at his side, nor mace at his saddle-bow. "and what weapon hast thou," said he, "if thy lance fail thee?" "do not concern yourself about that," said mandricardo; "i have made many good knights give ground with no other weapon than you see. know that i have sworn an oath never to bear a sword until i win back that famous durindana that orlando, the paladin, carries. that sword belongs to the suit of armor which i wear; that only is wanting. without doubt it was stolen, but how it got into the hands of orlando i know not. but i will make him pay dearly for it when i find him i seek him the more anxiously that i may avenge with his blood the death of king agrican, my father, whom he treacherously slew. i am sure he must have done it by treachery, for it was not in his power to subdue in fair fight such a warrior as my father." "thou liest," cried orlando; "and all who say so lie. i am orlando, whom you seek; yes, i am he who slew your father honorably. hold, here is the sword: you shall have it if your courage avails to merit it. though it belongs to me by right, i will not use it in this dispute. see, i hang it on this tree; you shall be master of it, if you bereave me of life; not else." at these words orlando drew durindana, and hung it on one of the branches of a tree near by. both knights, boiling with equal ardor, rode off in a semicircle; then rushed together with reins thrown loose, and struck one another with their lances. both kept their seats, immovable. the splinters of their lances flew into the air, and no weapon remained for either but the fragment which he held in his hand. then those two knights, covered with iron mail, were reduced to the necessity of fighting with staves, in the manner of two rustics, who dispute the boundary of a meadow, or the possession of a spring. these clubs could not long keep whole in the hands of such sturdy smiters, who were soon reduced to fight with naked fists. such warfare was more painful to him that gave than to him that received the blows. they next clasped, and strained each his adversary, as hercules did antaeus. mandricardo, more enraged than orlando, made violent efforts to unseat the paladin, and dropped the rein of his horse. orlando, more calm, perceived it. with one hand he resisted mandricardo, with the other he twitched the horse's bridle over the ears of the animal. the saracen dragged orlando with all his might, but orlando's thighs held the saddle like a vise. at last the efforts of the saracen broke the girths of orlando's horse; the saddle slipped; the knight, firm in his stirrups, slipped with it, and came to the ground hardly conscious of his fall. the noise of his armor in falling startled mandricardo's horse, now without a bridle. he started off in full career, heeding neither trees nor rocks nor broken ground. urged by fright, he ran with furious speed, carrying his master, who, almost distracted with rage, shouted and beat the animal with his fists, and thereby impelled his flight. after running thus three miles or more, a deep ditch opposed their progress. the horse and rider fell headlong into it, and did not find the bottom covered with feather-beds or roses. they got sadly bruised; but were lucky enough to escape without any broken limbs. mandricardo, as soon as he gained his feet, seized the horse by his mane with fury; but, having no bridle, could not hold him. he looked round in hopes of finding something that would do for a rein. just then fortune, who seemed willing to help him at last, brought that way a peasant with a bridle in his hand, who was in search of his farm horse that had strayed away. orlando, having speedily repaired his horse's girths, remounted, and waited a good hour for the saracen to return. not seeing him, he concluded to go in search of him. he took an affectionate leave of zerbino and isabella, who would willingly have followed him; but this the brave paladin would by no means permit. he held it unknightly to go in search of an enemy accompanied by a friend, who might act as a defender. therefore, desiring them to say to mandricardo, if they should meet him, that his purpose was to tarry in the neighborhood three days, and then repair to the camp of charlemagne, he took down durindana from the tree, and proceeded in the direction which the saracen's horse had taken. but the animal, having no guide but its terror, had so doubled and confused its traces that orlando, after two days spent in the search, gave up the attempt. it was about the middle of the third day when the paladin arrived on the pleasant bank of a stream which wound through a meadow enamelled with flowers. high trees, whose tops met and formed an arbor, over-shadowed the fountain; and the breeze which blew through their foliage tempered the heat. hither the shepherds used to resort to quench their thirst, and to enjoy the shelter from the midday sun. the air, perfumed with the flowers, seemed to breathe fresh strength into their veins. orlando felt the influence, though covered with his armor. he stopped in this delicious arbor, where everything seemed to invite to repose. but he could not have chosen a more fatal asylum. he there spent the most miserable moments of his life. he looked around, and noted with pleasure all the charms of the spot. he saw that some of the trees were carved with inscriptions --he drew near, and read them, and what was his surprise to find that they composed the name of angelica! farther on he found the name of medoro mixed with hers. the paladin thought he dreamed. he stood like one amazed--like a bird that, rising to fly, finds its feet caught in a net. orlando followed the course of the stream, and came to one of its turns where the rocks of the mountain bent in such a way as to form a sort of grotto. the twisted stems of ivy and the wild vine draped the entrance of this recess, scooped by the hand of nature. the unhappy paladin, on entering the grotto, saw letters which appeared to have been lately carved. they were verses which medoro had written in honor of his happy nuptials with the beautiful queen. orlando tried to persuade himself it must be some other angelica whom those verses celebrated, and as for medoro, he had never heard his name. the sun was now declining, and orlando remounted his horse, and went on his way. he soon saw the roof of a cottage whence the smoke ascended; he heard the barking of dogs and the lowing of cattle, and arrived at a humble dwelling which seemed to offer an asylum for the night. the inmates, as soon as they saw him, hastened to tender him service. one took his horse, another his shield and cuirass, another his golden spurs. this cottage was the very same where medoro had been carried, deeply wounded,--where angelica had tended him, and afterwards married him. the shepherd who lived in it loved to tell everybody the story of this marriage, and soon related it, with all its details, to the miserable orlando. having finished it, he went away, and returned with the precious bracelet which angelica, grateful for his services, had given him as a memorial. it was the one which orlando had himself given her. this last touch was the finishing stroke to the excited paladin. frantic, exasperated, he exclaimed against the ungrateful and cruel princess who had disdained him, the most renowned, the most indomitable of all the paladins of france,--him, who had rescued her from the most alarming perils,--him, who had fought the most terrible battles for her sake,--she to prefer to him a young saracen! the pride of the noble count was deeply wounded. indignant, frantic, a victim to ungovernable rage, he rushed into the forest, uttering the most frightful shrieks. "no, no!" cried he, "i am not the man they take me for! orlando is dead! i am only the wandering ghost of that unhappy count, who is now suffering the torments of hell!" orlando wandered all night, as chance directed, through the wood, and at sunrise his destiny led him to the fountain where medoro had engraved the fatal inscription. the frantic paladin saw it a second time with fury, drew his sword, and hacked it from the rock. unlucky grotto! you shall no more attract by your shade and coolness, you shall no more shelter with your arch either shepherd or flock. and you, fresh and pure fountain, you may not escape the rage of the furious orlando! he cast into the fountain branches, trunks of trees which he tore up, pieces of rocks which he broke off, plants uprooted, with the earth adhering, and turf and brushes, so as to choke the fountain, and destroy the purity of its waters. at length, exhausted by his violent exertions, bathed in sweat, breathless, orlando sunk panting upon the earth, and lay there insensible three days and three nights. the fourth day he started up and seized his arms. his helmet, his buckler, he cast far from him; his hauberk and his clothes he rent asunder; the fragments were scattered through the wood. in fine, he became a furious madman. his insanity was such that he cared not to retain even his sword. but he had no need of durindana, nor of other arms, to do wonderful things. his prodigious strength sufficed. at the first wrench of his mighty arm he tore up a pine- tree by the roots. oaks, beeches, maples, whatever he met in his path, yielded in like manner. the ancient forest soon became as bare as the borders of a morass, where the fowler has cleared away the bushes to spread his nets. the shepherds, hearing the horrible crashing in the forest, abandoned their flocks to run and see the cause of this unwonted uproar. by their evil star, or for their sins, they were led thither. when they saw the furious state the count was in, and his incredible force, they would fain have fled out of his reach, but in their fears lost their presence of mind. the madman pursued them, seized one and rent him limb from limb, as easily as one would pull ripe apples from a tree. he took another by the feet, and used him as a club to knock down a third. the shepherds fled; but it would have been hard for any to escape, if he had not at that moment left them to throw himself with the same fury upon their flocks. the peasants, abandoning their ploughs and harrows, mounted on the roofs of buildings and pinnacles of the rocks, afraid to trust themselves even to the oaks and pines. from such heights they looked on, trembling at the raging fury of the unhappy orlando. his fists, his teeth, his nails, his feet, seize, break, and tear cattle, sheep, and swine; the most swift in flight alone being able to escape him. when at last terror had scattered everything before him, he entered a cottage which was abandoned by its inhabitants, and there found that which served for food. his long fast had caused him to feel the most ravenous hunger. seizing whatever he found that was eatable, whether roots, acorns, or bread, raw meat or cooked, he gorged it indiscriminately. issuing thence again, the frantic orlando gave chase to whatever living thing he saw, whether men or animals. sometimes he pursued the deer and hind, sometimes he attacked bears and wolves, and with his naked hands killed and tore them, and devoured their flesh. thus he wandered, from place to place, through france, imperilling his life a thousand ways, yet always preserved by some mysterious providence from a fatal result. but here we leave orlando for a time, that we may record what befell zerbino and isabella after their parting with him. the prince and his fair bride waited, by orlando's request, near the scene of the battle for three days, that, if mandricardo should return, they might inform him where orlando would give him another meeting. at the end of that time their anxiety to know the issue led them to follow orlando's traces, which led them at last to the wood where the trees were inscribed with the names of angelica and medoro. they remarked how all these inscriptions were defaced, and how the grotto was disordered, and the fountain clogged with rubbish. but that which surprised them and distressed them most of all was to find on the grass the cuirass of orlando, and not far from it his helmet, the same which the renowned almontes once wore. hearing a horse neigh in the forest, zerbino turned his eyes in that direction, and saw brigliadoro, with the bridle yet hanging at the saddle-bow. he looked round for durindana, and found that famous sword, without the scabbard, lying on the grass. he saw also the fragments of orlando's other arms and clothing scattered on all sides over the plain. zerbino and isabella stood in astonishment and grief, not knowing what to think, but little imagining the true cause. if they had found any marks of blood on the arms or on the fragments of the clothing, they would have supposed him slain, but there were none. while they were in this painful uncertainty they saw a young peasant approach. he, not yet recovered from the terror of the scene, which he had witnessed from the top of a rock, told them the whole of the sad events. zerbino, with his eyes full of tears, carefully collected all the scattered arms. isabella also dismounted to aid him in the sad duty. when they had collected all the pieces of that rich armor they hung them like a trophy on a pine; and to prevent their being violated by any passers-by, zerbino inscribed on the bark this caution: "these are the arms of the paladin orlando." having finished this pious work, he remounted his horse, and just then a knight rode up, and requested zerbino to tell him the meaning of the trophy. the prince related the facts as they had happened; and mandricardo, for it was that saracen knight, full of joy, rushed forward, and seized the sword, saying, "no one can censure me for what i do; this sword is mine; i can take my own wherever i find it. it is plain that orlando, not daring to defend it against me, has counterfeited madness to excuse him in surrendering it." zerbino vehemently exclaimed, "touch not that sword. think not to possess it without a contest. if it be true that the arms you wear are those of hector, you must have got them by theft, and not by prowess." immediately they attacked one another with the utmost fury. the air resounded with thick-falling blows. zerbino, skilful and alert, evaded for a time with good success the strokes of durindana; but at length a terrible blow struck him on the neck. he fell from his horse, and the tartar king, possessed of the spoils of his victory, rode away. zerbino and isabella zerbino's pain at seeing the tartar prince go off with the sword surpassed the anguish of his wound; but now the loss of blood so reduced his strength that he could not move from where he fell. isabella, not knowing whither to resort for help, could only bemoan him, and chide her cruel fate. zerbino said, "if i could but leave thee, my best beloved, in some secure abode, it would not distress me to die; but to abandon thee so, without protection, is sad indeed." she replied, "think not to leave me, dearest; our souls shall not be parted; this sword will give me the means to follow thee." zerbino's last words implored her to banish such a thought, but live, and be true to his memory. isabella promised, with many tears, to be faithful to him so long as life should last. when he ceased to breathe, isabella's cries resounded through the forest, and reached the ears of a reverend hermit, who hastened to the spot. he soothed and calmed her, urging those consolations which the word of god supplies; and at last brought her to wish for nothing else but to devote herself for the rest of life wholly to religion. as she could not bear the thoughts of leaving her dead lord abandoned, the body was, by the good hermit's aid, placed upon the horse, and taken to the nearest inhabited place, where a chest was made for it, suitable to be carried with them on their way. the hermit's plan was to escort his charge to a monastery, not many days' journey distant, where isabella resolved to spend the remainder of her days. thus they travelled day after day, choosing the most retired ways, for the country was full of armed men. one day a cavalier met them, and barred their way. it was no other than rodomont, king of algiers, who had just left the camp of agramant, full of indignation at the treatment he had received from doralice. at sight of the lovely lady and her reverend attendant, with their horse laden with a burden draped with black, he asked the meaning of their journey. isabella told him her affliction, and her resolution to renounce the world and devote herself to religion, and to the memory of the friend she had lost. rodomont laughed scornfully at this, and told her that her project was absurd; that charms like hers were meant to be enjoyed, not buried, and that he himself would more than make amends for her dead lover. the monk, who promptly interposed to rebuke this impious talk, was commanded to hold his peace; and still persisting was seized by the knight and hurled over the edge of the cliff, where he fell into the sea, and was drowned. rodomont, when he had got rid of the hermit, again applied to the sad lady, heartless with affright, and, in the language used by lovers, said, "she was his very heart, his life, his light." having laid aside all violence, he humbly sued that she would accompany him to his retreat, near by. it was a ruined chapel from which the monks had been driven by the disorders of the time, and which rodomont had taken possession of. isabella, who had no choice but to obey, followed him, meditating as she went what resource she could find to escape out of his power, and keep her vow to her dead husband, to be faithful to his memory as long as life should last. at length she said, "if, my lord, you will let me go and fulfil my vow, and my intention, as i have already declared it, i will bestow upon you what will be to you of more value than a hundred women's hearts. i know an herb, and i have seen it on our way, which, rightly prepared, affords a juice of such power, that the flesh, if laved with it, becomes impenetrable to sword or fire. this liquor i can make, and will, to-day, if you will accept my offer; and when you have seen its virtue you will value it more than if all europe were made your own." rodomont, at hearing this, readily promised all that was asked, so eager was he to learn a secret that would make him as achilles was of yore. isabella, having collected such herbs as she thought proper, and boiled them, with certain mysterious signs and words, at length declared her labor done, and, as a test, offered to try its virtue on herself. she bathed her neck and bosom with the liquor, and then called on rodomont to smite with all his force, and see whether his sword had power to harm. the pagan, who during the preparations had taken frequent draughts of wine, and scarce knew what he did, drew his sword at the word, and struck across her neck with all his might, and the fair head leapt sundered from the snowy neck and breast. rude and unfeeling as he was, the pagan knight lamented bitterly this sad result. to honor her memory he resolved to do a work as unparalleled as her devotion. from all parts round he caused laborers to be brought, and had a tower built to enclose the chapel, within which the remains of zerbino and isabella were entombed. across the stream which flowed near by he built a bridge, scarce two yards wide, and added neither parapet nor rail. on the top of the tower a sentry was placed, who, when any traveller approached the bridge, gave notice to his master. rodomont thereupon sallied out, and defied the approaching knight to fight him upon the bridge, where any chance step a little aside would plunge the rider headlong in the stream. this bridge he vowed to keep until a thousand suits of armor should be won from conquered knights, wherewith to build a trophy to his victim and her lord. within ten days the bridge was built, and the tower was in progress. in a short time many knights, either seeking the shortest route, or tempted by a desire of adventure, had made the attempt to pass the bridge. all, without exception, had lost either arms or life, or both; some falling before rodomont's lance, others precipitated into the river. one day, as rodomont stood urging his workmen, it chanced that orlando in his furious mood came thither, and approached the bridge. rodomont halloed to him, "halt, churl; presume not to set foot upon that bridge; it was not made for such as you!" orlando took no notice, but pressed on. just then a gentle damsel rode up. it was flordelis, who was seeking her florismart. she saw orlando, and, in spite of his strange appearance, recognized him. rodomont, not used to have his commands disobeyed, laid hands on the madman, and would have thrown him into the river, but to his astonishment found himself in the gripe of one not so easily disposed of. "how can a fool have such strength?" he growled between his teeth. flordelis stopped to see the issue, where each of these two puissant warriors strove to throw the other from the bridge. orlando at last had strength enough to lift his foe with all his armor, and fling him over the side, but had not wit to clear himself from him, so both fell together. high flashed the wave as they together smote its surface. here orlando had the advantage; he was naked, and could swim like a fish. he soon reached the bank, and, careless of praise or blame, stopped not to see what came of the adventure. rodomont, entangled with his armor, escaped with difficulty to the bank. meantime, flordelis passed the bridge unchallenged. after long wandering without success she returned to paris, and there found the object of her search; for florismart, after the fall of albracca, had repaired thither. the joy of meeting was clouded to florismart by the news which flordelis brought of orlando's wretched plight. the last she had seen of him was when he fell with rodomont into the stream. florismart, who loved orlando like a brother, resolved to set out immediately, under the guidance of the lady, to find him, and bring him where he might receive the treatment suited to his case. a few days brought them to the place where they found the tartar king still guarding the bridge. the usual challenge and defiance was made, and the knights rode to encounter one another on the bridge. at the first encounter both horses were overthrown; and, having no space to regain their footing, fell with their riders into the water. rodomont, who knew the soundings of the stream, soon recovered the land; but florismart was carried downward by the current, and landed at last on a bank of mud where his horse could hardly find footing. flordelis, who watched the battle from the bridge, seeing her lover in this piteous case, exclaimed aloud, "ah! rodomont, for love of her whom dead you honor, have pity on me, who love this knight, and slay him not. let it suffice he yields his armor to the pile, and none more glorious will it bear than his." her prayer, so well directed, touched the pagan's heart, though hard to move, and he lent his aid to help the knight to land. he kept him a prisoner, however, and added his armor to the pile. flordelis, with a heavy heart, went her way. we must now return to rogero, who, when we parted with him, was engaged in an adventure which arrested his progress to the monastery whither he was bound with the intention of receiving baptism, and thus qualifying himself to demand bradamante as his bride. on his way he met with mandricardo, and the quarrel was revived respecting the right to wear the badge of hector. after a warm discussion both parties agreed to submit the question to king agramant, and for that purpose took their way to the saracen camp. here they met gradasso, who had his controversy also with mandricardo. this warrior claimed the sword of orlando, denying the right of mandricardo to possess it in virtue of his having found it abandoned by its owner. king agramant strove in vain to reconcile these quarrels, and was forced at last to consent that the points in dispute should be settled by one combat, in which mandricardo should meet one of the other champions, to whom should be committed the cause of both. rogero was chosen by lot to maintain gradasso's cause and his own. great preparations were made for this signal contest. on the appointed day it was fought in the presence of agramant, and of the whole army. rogero won it; and mandricardo, the conqueror of hector's arms, the challenger of orlando, and the slayer of zerbino, lost his life. gradasso received durindana as his prize, which lost half its value in his eyes, since it was won by another's prowess, not his own. rogero, though victorious, was severely wounded, and lay helpless many weeks in the camp of agramant, while bradamante, ignorant of the cause of his delay, expected him at montalban. thither he had promised to repair in fifteen days, or twenty at furthest, hoping to have obtained by that time an honorable discharge from his obligations to the saracen commander. the twenty days were passed, and a month more, and still rogero came not, nor did any tidings reach bradamante accounting for his absence. at the end of that time, a wandering knight brought news of the famous combat, and of rogero's wound. he added, what alarmed bradamante still more, that marphisa, a female warrior, young and fair, was in attendance on the wounded knight. he added that the whole army expected that, as soon as rogero's wounds were healed, the pair would be united in marriage. bradamante, distressed by this news, though she believed it but in part, resolved to go immediately and see for herself. she mounted rabican, the horse of astolpho, which he had committed to her care, and took with her the lance of gold, though unaware of its wonderful powers. thus accoutred, she left the castle, and took the road toward paris and the camp of the saracens. marphisa, whose devotion to rogero in his illness had so excited the jealousy of bradamante, was the twin sister of rogero. she, with him, had been taken in charge when an infant by atlantes, the magician, but while yet a child she had been stolen away by an arab tribe. adopted by their chief, she had early learned horsemanship and skill in arms, and at this time had come to the camp of agramant with no other view than to see and test for herself the prowess of the warriors of either camp, whose fame rang through the world. arriving at the very moment of the late encounter, the name of rogero, and some few facts of his story which she learned, were enough to suggest the idea that it was her brother whom she saw victorious in the single combat. inquiry satisfied the two of their near kindred, and from that moment marphisa devoted herself to the care of her new-found and much- loved brother. in those moments of seclusion rogero informed his sister of what he had learned of their parentage from old atlantes. rogero, their father, a christian knight, had won the heart of galaciella, daughter of the sultan of africa, and sister of king agramant, converted her to the christian faith, and secretly married her. the sultan, enraged at his daughter's marriage, drove her husband into exile, and caused her with her infant children, rogero and marphisa, to be placed in a boat and committed to the winds and waves, to perish; from which fate they were saved by atlantes. on hearing this, marphisa exclaimed, "how can you, brother, leave our parents unavenged so long, and even submit to serve the son of the tyrant who so wronged them?" rogero replied that it was but lately he had learned the full truth; that when he learned it he was already embarked with agramant, from whom he had received knighthood, and that he only waited for a suitable opportunity when he might with honor desert his standard, and at the same time return to the faith of his fathers. marphisa hailed this resolution with joy, and declared her intention to join with him in embracing the christian faith. we left bradamante when, mounted on rabican and armed with astolpho's lance, she rode forth, determined to learn the cause of rogero's long absence. one day, as she rode, she met a damsel, of visage and of manners fair, but overcome with grief. it was flordelis, who was seeking far and near a champion capable of liberating and avenging her lord. flordelis marked the approaching warrior, and, judging from appearances, thought she had found the champion she sought. "are you, sir knight," she said, "so daring and so kind as to take up my cause against a fierce and cruel warrior who has made prisoner of my lord, and forced me thus to be a wanderer and a suppliant?" then she related the events which had happened at the bridge. bradamante, to whom noble enterprises were always welcome, readily embraced this, and the rather as in her gloomy forebodings she felt as if rogero was forever lost to her. next day the two arrived at the bridge. the sentry descried them approaching, and gave notice to his lord, who thereupon donned his armor and went forth to meet them. here, as usual, he called on the advancing warrior to yield his horse and arms an oblation to the tomb. bradamante replied, asking by what right he called on the innocent to do penance for his crime. "your life and your armor," she added, "are the fittest offering to her tomb, and i, a woman, the fittest champion to take them." with that she couched her spear, spurred her horse, and ran to the encounter. king rodomont came on with speed. the trampling sounded on the bridge like thunder. it took but a moment to decide the contest. the golden lance did its office, and that fierce moor, so renowned in tourney, lay extended on the bridge. "who is the loser now?" said bradamante; but rodomont, amazed that a woman's hand should have laid him low, could not or would not answer. silent and sad, he raised himself, unbound his helm and mail, and flung them against the tomb; then, sullen and on foot, left the ground; but first gave orders to one of his squires to release all his prisoners. they had been sent off to africa. besides florismart, there were sansonnet and oliver, who had ridden that way in quest of orlando, and had both in turn been overthrown in the encounter. bradamante after her victory resumed her route, and in due time reached the christian camp, where she readily learned an explanation of the mystery which had caused her so much anxiety. rogero and his fair and brave sister, marphisa, were too illustrious by their station and exploits not to be the frequent topic of discourse even among their adversaries, and all that bradamante was anxious to know reached her ear, almost without inquiry. we now return to gradasso, who by rogero's victory had been made possessor of durindana. there now only remained to him to seek the horse of rinaldo; and the challenge, given and accepted, was yet to be fought with that warrior, for it had been interrupted by the arts of malagigi. gradasso now sought another meeting with rinaldo, and met with no reluctance on his part. as the combat was for the possession of bayard, the knights dismounted and fought on foot. long time the battle lasted. rinaldo, knowing well the deadly stroke of durindana, used all his art to parry or avoid its blow. gradasso struck with might and main, but wellnigh all his strokes were spent in air, or if they smote they fell obliquely and did little harm. thus had they fought long, glancing at one another's eyes, and seeing naught else, when their attention was arrested perforce by a strange noise. they turned, and beheld the good bayard attacked by a monstrous bird. perhaps it was a bird, for such it seemed; but when or where such a bird was ever seen i have nowhere read, except in turpin; and i am inclined to believe that it was not a bird, but a fiend, evoked from underground by malagigi, and thither sent on purpose to interrupt the fight. whether a fiend or a fowl, the monster flew right at bayard, and clapped his wings in his face. thereat the steed broke loose, and ran madly across the plain, pursued by the bird, till bayard plunged into the wood, and was lost to sight. rinaldo and gradasso, seeing bayard's escape, agreed to suspend their battle till they could recover the horse, the object of contention. gradasso mounted his steed, and followed the foot- marks of bayard into the forest. rinaldo, never more vexed in spirit, remained at the spot, gradasso having promised to return thither with the horse, if he found him. he did find him, after long search, for he had the good fortune to hear him neigh. thus he became possessed of both the objects for which he had led an army from his own country, and invaded france. he did not forget his promise to bring bayard back to the place where he had left rinaldo, but only muttering, "now i have got him, he little knows me who expects me to give him up; if rinaldo wants the horse let him seek him in india, as i have sought him in france,"--he made the best of his way to arles, where his vessels lay; and in possession of the two objects of his ambition, the horse and the sword, sailed away to his own country. astolpho in abyssinia when we last parted with the adventurous paladin astolpho, he was just commencing that flight over the countries of the world from which he promised himself so much gratification. our readers are aware that the eagle and the falcon have not so swift a flight as the hippogriff on which astolpho rode. it was not long, therefore, before the paladin, directing his course toward the southeast, arrived over that part of africa where the great river nile has its source. here he alighted, and found himself in the neighborhood of the capital of abyssinia, ruled by senapus, whose riches and power were immense. his palace was of surpassing splendor; the bars of the gates, the hinges and locks, were all of pure gold; in fact, this metal, in that country, is put to all those uses for which we employ iron. it is so common that they prefer for ornamental purposes rock crystal, of which all the columns were made. precious stones of different kinds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and topazes were set in ornamental designs, and the walls and ceilings were adorned with pearls. it is in this country those famous balms grow of which there are some few plants in that part of judaea called gilead. musk, ambergris, and numerous gums, so precious in europe, are here in their native climate. it is said the sultan of egypt pays a vast tribute to the monarch of this country to hire him not to cut off the source of the nile, which he might easily do, and cause the river to flow in some other direction, thus depriving egypt of the source of its fertility. at the time of astolpho's arrival in his dominions, this monarch was in great affliction. in spite of his riches and the precious productions of his country, he was in danger of dying of hunger. he was a prey to a flock of obscene birds called harpies, which attacked him whenever he sat at meat, and with their claws snatched, tore, and scattered everything, overturning the vessels, devouring the food, and infecting what they left with their filthy touch. it was said this punishment was inflicted upon the king because when young, and filled with pride and presumption, he had attempted to invade with an army the terrestrial paradise, which is situated on the top of a mountain whence the nile draws its source. nor was this his only punishment. he was struck blind. astolpho, on arriving in the dominions of this monarch, hastened to pay him his respects. king senapus received him graciously, and ordered a splendid repast to be prepared in honor of his arrival. while the guests were seated at table, astolpho filling the place of dignity at the king's right hand, the horrid scream of the harpies was heard in the air, and soon they approached, hovering over the tables, seizing the food from the dishes, and overturning everything with the flapping of their broad wings. in vain the guests struck at them with knives and any weapons which they had, and astolpho drew his sword and gave them repeated blows, which seemed to have no more effect upon them than if their bodies had been made of tow. at last astolpho thought of his horn. he first gave warning to the king and his guests to stop their ears; then blew a blast. the harpies, terrified at the sound, flew away as fast as their wings could carry them. the paladin mounted his hippogriff, and pursued them, blowing his horn as often as he came near them. they stretched their flight towards the great mountain, at the foot of which there is a cavern, which is thought to be the mouth of the infernal abodes. hither those horrid birds flew, as if to their home. having seen them all disappear in the recess, astolpho cared not to pursue them farther, but alighting, rolled huge stones into the mouth of the cave, and piled branches of trees therein, so that he effectually barred their passage out, and we have no evidence of their ever having been seen since in the outer air. after this labor astolpho refreshed himself by bathing in a fountain whose pure waters bubbled from a cleft of the rock. having rested awhile, an earnest desire seized him of ascending the mountain which towered above him. the hippogriff bore him swiftly upwards, and landed him on the top of the mountain, which he found to be an extensive plain. a splendid palace rose in the middle of this plain, whose walls shone with such brilliancy that mortal eyes could hardly bear the sight. astolpho guided the winged horse towards this edifice, and made him poise himself in the air while he took a leisurely survey of this favored spot and its environs. it seemed as if nature and art had striven with one another to see which could do the most for its embellishment. astolpho, on approaching the edifice, saw a venerable man advance to meet him. this personage was clothed in a long vesture as white as snow, while a mantle of purple covered his shoulders, and hung down to the ground. a white beard descended to his middle, and his hair, of the same color, overshadowed his shoulders. his eyes were so brilliant that astolpho felt persuaded that he was a blessed inhabitant of the heavenly mansions. the sage, smiling benignantly upon the paladin, who from respect had dismounted from his horse, said to him: "noble chevalier, know that it is by the divine will you have been brought to the terrestrial paradise. your mortal nature could not have borne to scale these heights and reach these seats of bliss if it were not the will of heaven that you should be instructed in the means to succor charles, and to sustain the glory of our holy faith. i am prepared to impart the needed counsels; but before i begin let me welcome you to our sojourn. i doubt not your long fast and distant journey have given you a good appetite." the aspect of the venerable man filled the prince with admiration; but his surprise ceased when he learned from him that he was that one of the apostles of our lord to whom he said, "i will that thou tarry till i come." st. john, conducting astolpho, rejoined his companions. these were the patriarch enoch and the prophet elijah; neither of whom had yet seen his dying day, but, taken from our lower world, were dwelling in a region of peace and joy, in a climate of eternal spring, till the last trumpet shall sound. the three holy inhabitants of the terrestrial paradise received astolpho with the greatest kindness, carried him to a pleasant apartment, and took great care of the hippogriff, to whom they gave such food as suited him, while to the prince they presented fruits so delicious that he felt inclined to excuse our first parents for their sin in eating them without permission. astolpho, having recruited his strength, not only by these excellent fruits, but also by sweet sleep, roused himself at the first blush of dawn, and as soon as he left his chamber met the beloved apostle coming to seek him. st. john took him by the hand, and told him many things relating to the past and the future. among others, he said, "son, let me tell you what is now going on in france. orlando, the illustrious prince who received at his birth the endowment of strength and courage more than mortal, raised up as was samson of old to be the champion of the true faith, has been guilty of the basest ingratitude in leaving the christian camp when it most needed the support of his arm, to run after a saracen princess, whom he would fain marry, though she scorns him. to punish him his reason has been taken away, so that he runs naked through the land, over mountains and through valleys, without a ray of intelligence. the duration of his punishment has been fixed at three months, and that time having nearly expired, you have been brought hither to learn from us the means by which the reason of orlando may be restored. true, you will be obliged to make a journey with me, and we must even leave the earth, and ascend to the moon, for it is in that planet we are to seek the remedy for the madness of the paladin. i propose to make our journey this evening, as soon as the moon appears over our head." as soon as the sun sunk beneath the seas, and the moon presented its luminous disk, the holy man had the chariot brought out in which he was accustomed to make excursions among the stars, the same which was employed long ago to convey elijah up from earth. the saint made astolpho seat himself beside him, took the reins, and giving the word to the coursers, they bore them upward with astonishing celerity. at length they reached the great continent of the moon. its surface appeared to be of polished steel, with here and there a spot which, like rust, obscured its brightness. the paladin was astonished to see that the earth, with all its seas and rivers, seemed but an insignificant spot in the distance. the prince discovered in this region so new to him rivers, lakes, plains, hills, and valleys. many beautiful cities and castles enriched the landscape. he saw also vast forests, and heard in them the sound of horns and the barking of dogs, which led him to conclude that the nymphs were following the chase. the knight, filled with wonder at all he saw, was conducted by the saint to a valley, where he stood amazed at the riches strewed all around him. well he might be so, for that valley was the receptacle of things lost on earth, either by men's fault, or by the effect of time and chance. let no one suppose we speak here of kingdoms or of treasures; they are the toys of fortune, which she dispenses in turning her wheel; we speak of things which she can neither give nor take away. such are reputations, which appear at one time so brilliant, and a short time after are heard of no more. here, also, are countless vows and prayers for unattainable objects, lovers' sighs and tears, time spent in gaming, dressing, and doing nothing, the leisure of the dull and the intentions of the lazy, baseless projects, intrigues, and plots; these and such like things fill all the valley. astolpho had a great desire to understand all that he saw, and which appeared to him so extraordinary. among the rest, he observed a great mountain of blown bladders, from which issued indistinct noises. the saint told him these were the dynasties of assyrian and persian kings, once the wonder of the earth, of which now scarce the name remains. astolpho could not help laughing when the saint said to him, "all these hooks of silver and gold that you see are the gifts of courtiers to princes, made in the hope of getting something better in return." he also showed him garlands of flowers in which snares were concealed; these were flatteries and adulations, meant to deceive. but nothing was so comical as the sight of numerous grasshoppers which had burst their lungs with chirping. these, he told him, were sonnets, odes, and dedications, addressed by venal poets to great people. the paladin beheld with wonder what seemed a lake of spilled milk. "it is," said the saint, "the charity done by frightened misers on their death-beds." it would take too long to tell all that the valley contained: meanness, affectations, pretended virtues, and concealed vices were there in abundance. among the rest astolpho perceived many days of his own lost, and many imprudent sallies which he had made, and would have been glad not to have been reminded of. but he also saw among so many lost things a great abundance of one thing which men are apt to think they all possess, and do not think it necessary to pray for,-- good sense. this commodity appeared under the form of a liquor, most light and apt to evaporate. it was therefore kept in vials, firmly sealed. one of these was labelled, "the sense of the paladin orlando." all the bottles were ticketed, and the sage placed one in astolpho's hand, which he found was his own. it was more than half full. he was surprised to find there many other vials which contained almost the whole of the wits of many persons who passed among men for wise. ah, how easy it is to lose one's reason! some lose theirs by yielding to the sway of the passions; some in braving tempests and shoals in search of wealth; some by trusting too much to the promises of the great; some by setting their hearts on trifles. as might have been expected, the bottles which held the wits of astrologers, inventors, metaphysicians, and above all, of poets, were in general the best filled of all. astolpho took his bottle, put it to his nose, and inhaled it all; and turpin assures us that he was for a long time afterwards as sage as one could wish; but the archbishop adds that there was reason to fear that some of the precious fluid afterwards found its way back into the bottle. the paladin took also the bottle which belonged to orlando. it was a large one, and quite full. before quitting the planetary region astolpho was conducted to an edifice on the borders of a river. he was shown an immense hall full of bundles of silk, linen, cotton, and wool. a thousand different colors, brilliant or dull, some quite black, were among these skeins. in one part of the hall an old woman was busy winding off yarns from all these different bundles. when she had finished a skein another ancient dame took it and placed it with others; a third selected from the fleeces spun, and mingled them in due proportions. the paladin inquired what all this might be. "these old women," said the saint, "are the fates, who spin, measure, and terminate the lives of mortals. as long as the thread stretches in one of those skeins, so long does the mortal enjoy the light of day; but nature and death are on the alert to shut the eyes of those whose thread is spun." each one of the skeins had a label of gold, silver, or iron, bearing the name of the individual to whom it belonged. an old man, who, in spite of the burden of years, seemed brisk and active, ran without ceasing to fill his apron with these labels, and carried them away to throw them into the river, whose name was lethe. when he reached the shore of the river the old man shook out his apron, and the labels sunk to the bottom. a small number only floated for a time, hardly one in a thousand. numberless birds, hawks, crows, and vultures hovered over the stream, with clamorous cries, and strove to snatch from the water some of these names; but they were too heavy for them, and after a while the birds were forced to let them drop into the river of oblivion. but two beautiful swans, of snowy whiteness, gathered some few of the names, and returned with them to the shore, where a lovely nymph received them from their beaks, and carried them to a temple placed upon a hill, and suspended them for all time upon a sacred column, on which stood the statue of immortality. astolpho was amazed at all this, and asked his guide to explain it. he replied, "the old man is time. all the names upon the tickets would be immortal if the old man did not plunge them into the river of oblivion. those clamorous birds which make vain efforts to save certain of the names are flatterers, pensioners, venal rhymesters, who do their best to rescue from oblivion the unworthy names of their patrons; but all in vain; they may keep them from their fate a little while, but ere long the river of oblivion must swallow them all. "the swans, that with harmonious strains carry certain names to the temple of eternal memory, are the great poets, who save from oblivion worse than death the names of those they judge worthy of immortality. swans of this kind are rare. let monarchs know the true breed, and fail not to nourish with care such as may chance to appear in their time." the war in africa when astolpho had descended to the earth with the precious phial, st. john showed him a plant of marvellous virtues, with which he told him he had only to touch the eyes of the king of abyssinia to restore him to sight. "that important service," said the saint, "added to your having delivered him from the harpies, will induce him to give you an army wherewith to attack the africans in their rear, and force them to return from france to defend their own country." the saint also instructed him how to lead his troops in safety across the great deserts, where caravans are often overwhelmed with moving columns of sand. astolpho, fortified with ample instructions, remounted the hippogriff, thanked the saint, received his blessing, and took his flight down to the level country. keeping the course of the river nile, he soon arrived at the capital of abyssinia, and rejoined senapus. the joy of the king was great when he heard again the voice of the hero who had delivered him from the harpies. astolpho touched his eyes with the plant which he had brought from the terrestrial paradise, and restored their sight. the king's gratitude was unbounded. he begged him to name a reward, promising to grant it, whatever it might be. astolpho asked an army to go to the assistance of charlemagne, and the king not only granted him a hundred thousand men, but offered to lead them himself. the night before the day appointed for the departure of the troops astolpho mounted his winged horse, and directed his flight towards a mountain, whence the fierce south-wind issues, whose blast raises the sands of the nubian desert, and whirls them onward in overwhelming clouds. the paladin, by the advice of st. john, had prepared himself with a leather bag, which he placed adroitly, with its mouth open, over the vent whence issues this terrible wind. at the first dawn of morning the wind rushed from its cavern to resume its daily course, and was caught in the bag, and securely tied up. astolpho, delighted with his prize, returned to his army, placed himself at their head, and commenced his march. the abyssinians traversed without danger or difficulty those vast fields of sand which separate their country from the kingdoms of northern africa, for the terrible south-wind, taken completely captive, had not force enough left to blow out a candle. senapus was distressed that he could not furnish any cavalry, for his country, rich in camels and elephants, was destitute of horses. this difficulty the saint had foreseen, and had taught astolpho the means of remedying. he now put those means in operation. having reached a place whence he beheld a vast plain and the sea, he chose from his troops those who appeared to be the best made and the most intelligent. these he caused to be arranged in squadrons at the foot of a lofty mountain which bordered the plain, and he himself mounted to the summit to carry into effect his great design. here he found vast quantities of fragments of rock and pebbles. these he set rolling down the mountain's side, and, wonderful to relate, as they rolled they grew in size, made themselves bodies, legs, necks, and long faces. next they began to neigh, to curvet, to scamper on all sides over the plain. some were bay, some roan, some dapple, some chestnut. the troops at the foot of the mountain exerted themselves to catch these new-created horses, which they easily did, for the miracle had been so considerate as to provide all the horses with bridles and saddles. astolpho thus suddenly found himself supplied with an excellent corps of cavalry, not fewer (as archbishop turpin asserts) than eighty thousand strong. with these troops astolpho reduced all the country to subjection, and at last arrived before the walls of agramant's capital city, biserta, to which he laid siege. we must now return to the camp of the christians, which lay before arles, to which city the saracens had retired after being defeated in a night attack led on by rinaldo. agramant here received the tidings of the invasion of his country by a fresh enemy, the abyssinians, and learned that biserta was in danger of falling into their hands. he took counsel of his officers, and decided to send an embassy to charles, proposing that the whole quarrel should be submitted to the combat of two warriors, one from each side, according to the issue of which it should be decided which party should pay tribute to the other, and the war should cease. charlemagne, who had not heard of the favorable turn which affairs had taken in africa, readily agreed to this proposal, and rinaldo was selected on the part of the christians to sustain the combat. the saracens selected rogero for their champion. rogero was still in the saracen camp, kept there by honor alone, for his mind had been opened to the truth of the christian faith by the arguments of bradamante, and he had resolved to leave the party of the infidels on the first favorable opportunity, and to join the christian side. but his honor forbade him to do this while his former friends were in distress; and thus he waited for what time might bring forth, when he was startled by the announcement that he had been selected to uphold the cause of the saracens against the christians, and that his foe was to be rinaldo, the brother of bradamante. while rogero was overwhelmed with this intelligence bradamante on her side felt the deepest distress at hearing of the proposed combat. if rogero should fall she felt that no other man living was worthy of her love; and if, on the other hand, heaven should resolve to punish france by the death of her chosen champion, bradamante would have to deplore her brother, so dear to her, and be no less completely severed from the object of her affections. while the fair lady gave herself up to these sad thoughts, the sage enchantress, melissa, suddenly appeared before her. "fear not, my daughter," said she, "i shall find a way to interrupt this combat which so distresses you." meanwhile rinaldo and rogero prepared their weapons for the conflict. rinaldo had the choice, and decided that it should be on foot, and with no weapons but the battle-axe and poniard. the place assigned was a plain between the camp of charlemagne and the walls of arles. hardly had the dawn announced the day appointed for this memorable combat, when heralds proceeded from both sides to mark the lists. erelong the african troops were seen to advance from the city, agramant at their head; his brilliant arms adorned in the moorish fashion, his horse a bay, with a white star on his forehead. rogero marched at his side, and some of the greatest warriors of the saracen camp attended him, bearing the various parts of his armor and weapons. charlemagne, on his part, proceeded from his intrenchments, ranged his troops in semicircle, and stood surrounded by his peers and paladins. some of them bore portions of the armor of rinaldo, the celebrated ogier, the dane, bearing the helmet which rinaldo took from mambrino. duke namo of bavaria and salomon of bretagne bore two axes, of equal weight, prepared for the occasion. the terms of the combat were then sworn to with the utmost solemnity by all parties. it was agreed that if from either part any attempt was made to interrupt the battle both combatants should turn their arms against the party which should be guilty of the interruption; and both monarchs assented to the condition that in such case the champion of the offending party should be discharged from his allegiance, and at liberty to transfer his arms to the other side. when all the preparations were concluded the monarchs and their attendants retired each to his own side, and the champions were left alone. the two warriors advanced with measured steps towards each other, and met in the middle of the space. they attacked one another at the same moment, and the air resounded with the blows they gave. sparks flew from their battle-axes, while the velocity with which they managed their weapons astonished the beholders. rogero, always remembering that his antagonist was the brother of his betrothed, could not aim a deadly wound; he strove only to ward off those levelled against himself. rinaldo, on the other hand, much as he esteemed rogero, spared not his blows, for he eagerly desired victory for his own sake, and for the sake of his country and his faith. the saracens soon perceived that their champion fought feebly, and gave not to rinaldo such blows as he received from him. his disadvantage was so marked that anxiety and shame were manifest on the countenance of agramant. melissa, one of the most acute enchantresses that ever lived, seized this moment to disguise herself under the form of rodomont, that rude and impetuous warrior, who had now for some time been absent from the saracen camp. approaching agramant, she said, "how could you, my lord, have the imprudence of selecting a young man without experience to oppose the most redoubtable warrior of france? surely you must have been regardless of the honor of your arms, and of the fate of your empire! but it is not too late. break without delay the agreement which is sure to result in your ruin." so saying, she addressed the troops who stood near, "friends," said she, "follow me; under my guidance every one of you will be a match for a score of those feeble christians." agramant, delighted at seeing rodomont once more at his side, gave his consent, and the saracens, at the instant, couched their lances, set spurs to their steeds, and swept down upon the french. melissa, when she saw her work successful, disappeared. rinaldo and rogero, seeing the truce broken, and the two armies engaged in general conflict, stopped their battle; their martial fury ceased at once, they joined hands, and resolved to act no more on either side until it should be clearly ascertained which party had failed to observe its oath. both renewed their promise to abandon forever the party which had been thus false and perjured. meanwhile, the christians, after the first moment of surprise, met the saracens with courage redoubled by rage at the treachery of their foes. guido the wild, brother and rival of rinaldo, griffon and aquilant, sons of oliver, and numerous others whose names have already been celebrated in our recitals, beat back the assailants, and at last, after prodigious slaughter, forced them to take shelter within the walls of arles. we will now return to orlando, whom we last heard of as furiously mad, and doing a thousand acts of violence in his senseless rage. one day he came to the borders of a stream which intercepted his course. he swam across it, for he could swim like an otter, and on the other side saw a peasant watering his horse. he seized the animal, in spite of the resistance of the peasant, and rode it with furious speed till he arrived at the sea-coast, where spain is divided from africa by only a narrow strait. at the moment of his arrival a vessel had just put off to cross the strait. she was full of people who, with glass in hand, seemed to be taking a merry farewell of the land, wafted by a favorable breeze. the frantic orlando cried out to them to stop and take him in; but they, having no desire to admit a madman to their company, paid him no attention. the paladin thought this behavior very uncivil; and by force of blows made his horse carry him into the water in pursuit of the ship. the wretched animal soon had only his head above water; but as orlando urged him forward, nothing was left for the poor beast but either to die or swim over to africa. already orlando had lost sight of the bark; distance and the swell of the sea completely hid it from his sight. he continued to press his horse forward, till at last it could struggle no more, and sunk beneath him. orlando, nowise concerned, stretched out his nervous arms, puffing the salt water from before his mouth, and carried his head above the waves. fortunately they were not rough, scarce a breath of wind agitated the surface; otherwise, the invincible orlando would then have met his death. but fortune, which it is said favors fools, delivered him from this danger, and landed him safe on the shore of ceuta. here he rambled along the shore till he came to where the black army of astolpho held its camp. now it happened, just before this time, that a vessel filled with prisoners which rodomont had taken at the bridge had arrived, and, not knowing of the presence of the abyssinian army, had sailed right into port, where of course the prisoners and their captors changed places, the former being set at liberty and received with all joy, the latter sent to serve in the galleys. astolpho thus found himself surrounded with christian knights, and he and his friends were exchanging greetings and felicitations, when a noise was heard in the camp, and seemed to increase every moment. astolpho and his friends seized their weapons, mounted their horses, and rode to the quarter whence the noise proceeded. imagine their astonishment when they saw that the tumult was caused by a single man, perfectly naked, and browned with dirt and exposure, but of a force and fury so terrible that he overturned all that offered to lay hands on him. astolpho, dudon, oliver, and florimart gazed at him with amazement. it was with difficulty they knew him. astolpho, who had been warned of his condition by his holy monitor, was the first to recognize him. as the paladins closed round orlando, the madman dealt one and another a blow of his fist, which, if they had not been in armor, or he had had any weapon, would probably have despatched them; as it was, dudon and astolpho measured their length on the sand. but florimart seized him from behind, sansonnet and another grasped his legs, and at last they succeeded in securing him with ropes. they took him to the water-side and washed him well, and then astolpho, having first bandaged his mouth so that he could not breathe except through his nose, brought the precious phial, uncorked it, and placed it adroitly under his nostrils, when the good orlando took it all up in one breath. o marvellous prodigy! the paladin recovered in an instant all his intelligence. he felt like one who had awakened from a painful dream, in which he had believed that monsters were about to tear him to pieces. he seemed prostrated, silent, and abashed. florismart, oliver, and astolpho stood gazing upon him, while he turned his eyes around and on himself. he seemed surprised to find himself naked, bound, and stretched on the sea-shore. after a few moments he recognized his friends, and spoke to them in a tone so tender that they hastened to unbind him, and to supply him with garments. then they exerted themselves to console him, to diminish the weight with which his spirits were oppressed, and to make him forget the wretched condition into which he had been sunk. orlando, in recovering his reason, found himself also delivered from his insane attachment to the queen of cathay. his heart felt now no further influenced by the recollection of her than to be moved with an ardent desire to retrieve his fame by some distinguished exploit. astolpho would gladly have yielded to him the chief command of the army, but orlando would not take from the friend to whom he owed so much the glory of the campaign; but in everything the two paladins acted in concert, and united their counsels. they proposed to make a general assault on the city of biserta, and were only waiting a favorable moment, when their plan was interrupted by new events. agramant, after the bloody battle which followed the infraction of the truce, found himself so weak that he saw it was in vain to attempt to remain in france. so, in concert with sobrino, the bravest and most trusted of his chiefs, he embarked to return to his own country, having previously sent off his few remaining troops in the same direction. the vessel which carried agramant and sobrino approached the shore where the army of astolpho lay encamped before biserta, and having discovered this fact before it was too late, the king commanded the pilot to steer eastward, with a view to seek protection of the king of egypt. but the weather becoming rough, he consented to the advice of his companions, and sought harbor in an island which lies between sicily and africa. there he found gradasso, the warlike king of sericane, who had come to france to possess himself of the horse bayard and the sword durindana; and having procured both these prizes was returning to his own country. the two kings, who had been companions in arms under the walls of paris, embraced one another affectionately. gradasso learned with regret the reverses of agramant, and offered him his troops and his person. he strongly deprecated resorting to egypt for aid. "remember the great pompey," said he, "and shun that fatal shore. my plan," he continued, "is this: i mean to challenge orlando to single combat. possessed of such a sword and steed as mine, if he were made of steel or bronze, he could not escape me. he being removed, there will be no difficulty in driving back the abyssinians. we will rouse against them the moslem nations from the other side of the nile, the arabians, persians, and chaldeans, who will soon make senapus recall his army to defend his own territories." agramant approved this advice except in one particular. "it is for me," said he, "to combat orlando; i cannot with honor devolve that duty on another." "let us adopt a third course," said the aged warrior sobrino. "i would not willingly remain a simple spectator of such a contest. let us send three squires to the shore of africa to challenge orlando and any two of his companions in arms to meet us three in this island of lampedusa." this counsel was adopted; the three squires sped on their way; and now presented themselves, and rehearsed their message to the christian knights. orlando was delighted, and rewarded the squires with rich gifts. he had already resolved to seek gradasso and compel him to restore durindana, which he had learned was in his possession. for his two companions the count chose his faithful friend florismart and his cousin oliver. the three warriors embarked, and sailing with a favorable wind, the second morning showed them, on their right, the island where this important battle was to be fought. orlando and his two companions, having landed, pitched their tent. agramant had placed his opposite. next morning, as soon as aurora brightened the edges of the horizon, the warriors of both parties armed themselves and mounted their horses. they took their positions, face to face, lowered their lances, placed them in rest, clapped spurs to their horses, and flew to the charge. orlando met the charge of gradasso. the paladin was unmoved, but his horse could not sustain the terrible shock of bayard. he recoiled, staggered, and fell some paces behind. orlando tried to raise him, but, finding his efforts unavailing, seized his shield, and drew his famous balisardo. meanwhile agramant and the brave oliver gained no advantage, one or the other; but florismart unhorsed the king sobrino. having brought his foe to the ground, he would not pursue his victory, but hastened to attack gradasso, who had overthrown orlando. seeing him thus engaged, orlando would not interfere, but ran with sword upraised upon sobrino, and with one blow deprived him of sense and motion. believing him dead, he next turned to aid his beloved florismart. that brave paladin, neither in horse nor arms equal to his antagonist, could but parry and evade the blows of the terrible durindana. orlando, eager to succor him, was delayed for a moment in securing and mounting the horse of the king sobrino. it was but an instant, and with sword upraised, he rushed upon gradasso who, noways disconcerted at the onset of this second foe, shouted his defiance, and thrust at him with his sword, but, having miscalculated the distance, scarcely reached him, and failed to pierce his mail. orlando, in return, dealt him a blow with balisardo, which wounded as it fell face, breast, and thigh, and, if he had been a little nearer, would have cleft him in twain. sobrino, by this time recovered from his swoon, though severely wounded, raised himself on his legs, and looked to see how he might aid his friends. observing agramant hard pressed by oliver, he thrust his sword into the bowels of the latter's horse, which fell, and bore down his master, entangling his leg as he fell, so that oliver could not extricate himself. florismart saw the danger of his friend, and ran upon sobrino with his horse, overthrew him, and then turned to defend himself from agramant. they were not unequally matched, for though agramant, mounted on brigliadoro, had an advantage over florismart, whose horse was but indifferent, yet agramant had received a serious wound in his encounter with oliver. nothing could exceed the fury of the encounter between orlando and gradasso. durindana, in the hands of gradasso, clove asunder whatever it struck; but such was the skill of orlando, who perfectly knew the danger to which he was exposed from a stroke of that weapon, it had not yet struck him in such a way as to inflict a wound. meanwhile, gradasso was bleeding from many wounds, and his rage and incaution increased every moment. in his desperation he lifted durindana with both hands, and struck so terrible a blow full on the helmet of orlando, that for a moment it stunned the paladin. he dropped the reins, and his frightened horse scoured with him over the plain. gradasso turned to pursue him, but at that moment saw florismart in the very act of striking a fatal blow at agramant, whom he had unhorsed. while florismart was wholly intent upon completing his victory, gradasso plunged his sword into his side. florismart fell from his horse, and bathed the plain with his blood. orlando recovered himself just in time to see the deed. whether rage or grief predominated in his breast, i cannot tell; but, seizing balisardo with fury, his first blow fell upon agramant, who was nearest to him, and smote his head from his shoulders. at this sight gradasso for the first time felt his courage sink, and a dark presentiment of death came over him. he hardly stood on his defence when orlando cast himself upon him, and gave him a fatal thrust. the sword penetrated his ribs, and came out a palm's breadth on the other side of his body. thus fell beneath the sword of the most illustrious paladin of france the bravest warrior of the saracen host. orlando then, as if despising his victory, leaped lightly to the ground, and ran to his dear friend florismart, embraced him, and bathed him with his tears. florismart still breathed. he could even command his voice to utter a few parting words: "dear friend, do not forget me,-- give me your prayers,--and oh! be a brother to flordelis." he died in uttering her name. after a few moments given to grief orlando turned to look for his other companion and his late foes. oliver lay oppressed with the weight of his horse, from which he had in vain struggled to liberate himself. orlando extricated him with difficulty; he then raised sobrino from the earth, and committed him to his squire, treating him as gently as if he had been his own brother. for this terrible warrior was the most generous of men to a fallen foe. he took bayard and brigliadoro, with the arms of the conquered knights; their bodies and their other spoils he remitted to their attendants. but who can tell the grief of flordelis when she saw the warriors return, and found not florismart as usual after absence hasten to her side. she knew by the aspect of the others that her lord was slain. at the thought, and before the question could pass her lips, she fell senseless upon the ground. when life returned, and she learned the truth of her worst fears, she bitterly upbraided herself that she had let him depart without her. "i might have saved him by a single cry when his enemy dealt him that treacherous blow, or i might have thrown myself between and given my worthless life for his. or if no more, i might have heard his last words, i might have given him a last kiss." so she lamented, and could not be comforted. rogero and bradamante after the interruption of the combat with rinaldo, as we have related, rogero was perplexed with doubts what course to take. the terms of the treaty required him to abandon agramant, who had broken it, and to transfer his allegiance to charlemagne; and his love for bradamante called him in the same direction; but unwillingness to desert his prince and leader in the hour of distress forbade this course. embarking, therefore, for africa, he took his way to rejoin the saracen army; but was arrested midway by a storm which drove the vessel on a rock. the crew took to their boat, but that was quickly swamped in the waves, and rogero with the rest were compelled to swim for their lives. then while buffeting the waves rogero bethought him of his sin in so long delaying his christian profession, and vowed in his heart that, if he should live to reach the land, he would no longer delay to be baptized. his vows were heard and answered; he succeeded in reaching the shore, and was aided and relieved on landing by a pious hermit, whose cell overlooked the sea. from him he received baptism, having first passed some days with him, partaking his humble fare, and receiving instruction in the doctrines of the christian faith. while these things were going on, rinaldo, who had set out on his way to seek gradasso and recover bayard from him, hearing on his way of the great things which were doing in africa, repaired thither to bear his part in them. he arrived too late to do more than join his friends in lamenting the loss of florismart, and to rejoice with them in their victory over the pagan knights. on the death of their king the africans gave up the contest, biserta submitted, and the christian knights had only to dismiss their forces, and return home. astolpho took leave of his abyssinian army, and sent them back laden with spoil to their own country, not forgetting to intrust to them the bag which held the winds, by means of which they were enabled to cross the sandy desert again without danger, and did not untie it till they reached their own country. orlando now, with oliver, who much needed the surgeon's care, and sobrino, to whom equal attention was shown, sailed in a swift vessel to sicily, bearing with him the body of florismart, to be laid in christian earth. rinaldo accompanied them, as did sansonnet and the other christian leaders. arrived at sicily, the funeral was solemnized with all the rites of religion, and with the profound grief of those who had known florismart, or had heard of his fame. then they resumed their course, steering for marseilles. but oliver's wound grew worse instead of better, and his sufferings so distressed his friends that they conferred together, not knowing what to do. then said the pilot, "we are not far from an isle where a holy hermit dwells alone in the midst of the sea. it is said none seek his counsel or his aid in vain. he hath wrought marvellous cures, and if you resort to that holy man without doubt he can heal the knight." orlando bade him steer thither, and soon the bark was laid safely beside the lonely rock; the wounded man was lowered into their boat, and carried by the crew to the hermit's cell. it was the same hermit with whom rogero had taken refuge after his shipwreck, by whom he had been baptized, and with whom he was now staying, absorbed in sacred studies and meditations. the holy man received orlando and the rest with kindness, and inquired their errand; and being told that they had come for help for one who, warring for the christian faith, was brought to perilous pass by a sad wound, he straightway undertook the cure. his applications were simple, but they were seconded by his prayers. the paladin was soon relieved from pain, and in a few days his foot was perfectly restored to soundness. sobrino, as soon as he perceived the holy monk perform that wonder, cast aside his false prophet, and with contrite heart owned the true god, and demanded baptism at his hands. the hermit granted his request, and also by his prayers restored him to health, while all the christian knights rejoiced in his conversion almost as much as at the restoration of oliver. more than all rogero felt joy and gratitude, and daily grew in grace and faith. rogero was known by fame to all the christian knights, but not even rinaldo knew him by sight, though he had proved his prowess in combat. sobrino made him known to them, and great was the joy of all when they found one whose valor and courtesy were renowned through the world no longer an enemy and unbeliever, but a convert and champion of the true faith. all press about the knight; one grasps his hand, another locks him fast in his embrace; but more than all the rest, rinaldo cherished him, for he more than any knew his worth. it was not long before rogero confided to his friend the hopes he entertained of a union with his sister, and rinaldo frankly gave his sanction to the proposal. but causes unknown to the paladin were at that very time interposing obstacles to its success. the fame of the beauty and worth of bradamante had reached the ears of the grecian emperor, constantine, and he had sent to charlemagne to demand the hand of his niece for leo, his son, and the heir to his dominions. duke aymon, her father, had only reserved his consent until he should first have spoken with his son rinaldo, now absent. the warriors now prepared to resume their voyage. rogero took a tender farewell of the good hermit who had taught him the true faith. orlando restored to him the horse and arms which were rightly his, not even asserting his claim to balisarda, that sword which he himself had won from the enchantress. the hermit gave his blessing to the band, and they reembarked. the passage was speedy, and very soon they arrived in the harbor of marseilles. astolpho, when he had dismissed his troops, mounted the hippogriff, and at one flight shot over to sardinia, thence to corsica, thence, turning slightly to the left, hovered over provence, and alighted in the neighborhood of marseilles. there he did what he had been commanded to do by the holy saint; he unbridled the hippogriff, and turned him loose to seek his own retreats, never more to be galled with saddle or bit. the horn had lost its marvellous power ever since the visit to the moon. astolpho reached marseilles the very day when orlando, rinaldo, oliver, sobrino, and rogero arrived there. charles had already heard the news of the defeat of the saracen kings, and all the accompanying events. on learning the approach of the gallant knights, he sent forward some of his most illustrious nobles to receive them, and himself, with the rest of his court, kings, dukes, and peers, the queen, and a fair and gorgeous band of ladies, set forward from arles to meet them. no sooner were the mutual greetings interchanged, than orlando and his friends led forward rogero, and presented him to the emperor. they vouch him son of rogero, duke of risa, one of the most renowned of christian warriors, by adverse fortune stolen in his infancy, and brought up by saracens in the false faith, now by a kind providence converted, and restored to fill the place his father once held among the foremost champions of the throne and church. rogero had alighted from his horse, and stood respectfully before the emperor. charlemagne bade him remount and ride beside him; and omitted nothing which might do him honor in sight of his martial train. with pomp triumphal and with festive cheer the troop returned to the city; the streets were decorated with garlands, the houses hung with rich tapestry, and flowers fell like rain upon the conquering host from the hands of fair dames and damsels, from every balcony and window. so welcomed, the mighty emperor passed on till he reached the royal palace, where many days he feasted, high in hall, with his lords, amid tourney, revel, dance, and song. when rinaldo told his father, duke aymon, how he had promised his sister to rogero, his father heard him with indignation, having set his heart on seeing her united to the grecian emperor's son. the lady beatrice, her mother, also appealed to bradamante herself to reject a knight who had neither title nor lands, and give the preference to one who would make her empress of the wide levant. but bradamante, though respect forbade her to refuse her mother's entreaty, would not promise to do what her heart repelled, and answered only with a sigh, until she was alone, and then gave a loose to tears. meanwhile rogero, indignant that a stranger should presume to rob him of his bride, determined to seek the prince of greece, and defy him to mortal combat. with this design he donned his armor, but exchanged his crest and emblazonment, and bore instead a white unicorn upon a crimson field. he chose a trusty squire, and, commanding him not to address him as rogero, rode on his quest. having crossed the rhine and the austrian countries into hungary, he followed the course of the danube till he reached belgrade. there he saw the imperial ensigns spread, and white pavilions, thronged with troops, before the town. for the emperor constantine was laying siege to the city to recover it from the bulgarians, who had taken it from him not long before. a river flowed between the camp of the emperor and the bulgarians, and at the moment when rogero approached, a skirmish had begun between the parties from either camp, who had approached the stream for the purpose of watering. the greeks in that affray were four to one, and drove back the bulgarians in precipitate rout. rogero, seeing this, and animated only by his hatred of the grecian prince, dashed into the middle of the flying mass, calling aloud on the fugitives to turn. he encountered first a leader of the grecian host in splendid armor, a nephew of the emperor, as dear to him as a son. rogero's lance pierced shield and armor, and stretched the warrior breathless on the plain. another and another fell before him, and astonishment and terror arrested the advance of the greeks, while the bulgarians, catching courage from the cavalier, rally, change front, and chase the grecian troops, who fly in their turn. leo, the prince, was at a distance when this sudden skirmish rose, but not so far but that he could see distinctly, from an elevated position which he held, how the changed battle was all the work of one man, and could not choose but admire the bravery and prowess with which it was done. he knew by the blazonry displayed that the champion was not of the bulgarian army, though he furnished aid to them. although he suffered by his valor, the prince could not wish him ill, for his admiration surpassed his resentment. by this time the greeks had regained the river, and crossing it by fording or swimming, some made their escape, leaving many more prisoners in the hands of the bulgarians. rogero, learning from some of the captives that leo was at a point some distance down the river, rode thither with a view to meet him, but arrived not before the greek prince had retired beyond the stream, and broken up the bridge. day was spent, and rogero, wearied, looked round for a shelter for the night. he found it in a cottage, where he soon yielded himself to repose. it so happened, a knight who had narrowly escaped rogero's sword in the late battle also found shelter in the same cottage, and, recognizing the armor of the unknown knight, easily found means of securing him as he slept, and next morning carried him in chains and delivered him to the emperor. by him he was in turn delivered to his sister theodora, mother of the young knight, the first victim of rogero's spear. by her he was cast into a dungeon, till her ingenuity could devise a death sufficiently painful to satiate her revenge. bradamante, meanwhile, to escape her father's and mother's importunity, had begged a boon of charlemagne, which the monarch pledged his royal word to grant; it was that she should not be compelled to marry any one unless he should first vanquish her in single combat. the emperor therefore proclaimed a tournament in these words: "he that would wed duke aymon's daughter must contend with the sword against that dame, from the sun's rise to his setting; and if, in that time, he is not overcome the lady shall be his." duke aymon and the lady beatrice, though much incensed at the course things had taken, brought their daughter to court, to await the day appointed for the tournament. bradamante, not finding there him whom her heart required, distressed herself with doubts what could be the cause of his absence. of all fancies, the most painful one was that he had gone away to learn to forget her, knowing her father's and her mother's opposition to their union, and despairing to contend against them. but oh, how much worse would be the maiden's woe, if it were known to her what her betrothed was then enduring! he was plunged in a dungeon where no ray of daylight ever penetrated, loaded with chains, and scantily supplied with the coarsest food. no wonder despair took possession of his heart, and he longed for death as a relief, when one night (or one day, for both were equally dark to him) he was roused with the glare of a torch and saw two men enter his cell. it was the prince leo, with an attendant, who had come as soon as he had learned the wretched fate of the brave knight whose valor he had seen and admired on the field of battle. "cavalier," said he, "i am one whom thy valor hath so bound to thee, that i willingly peril my own safety to lend thee aid." "infinite thanks i owe you," replied rogero, "and the life you give me i promise faithfully to render back upon your call, and promptly to stake it at all times for your service." the prince then told rogero his name and rank, at hearing which a tide of contending emotions almost overwhelmed rogero. he was set at liberty, and had his horse and arms restored to him. meanwhile, tidings arrived of king charles' decree that whoever aspired to the hand of bradamante must first encounter her with sword and lance. this news made the grecian prince turn pale, for he knew he was no match for her in fight. communing with himself, he sees how he may make his wit supply the place of valor, and employ the french knight, whose name was still unknown to him, to fight the battle for him. rogero heard the proposal with extreme distress; yet it seemed worse than death to deny the first request of one to whom he owed his life. hastily he gave his assent "to do in all things that which leo should command." afterward, bitter repentance came over him; yet, rather than confess his change of mind, death itself would be welcome. death seems his only remedy; but how to die? sometimes he thinks to make none but a feigned resistance, and allow her sword a ready access, for never can death come more happily than if her hand guide the weapon. yet this will not avail, for, unless he wins the maid for the greek prince, his debt remains unpaid. he had promised to maintain a real, not a feigned encounter. he will then keep his word, and banish every thought from his bosom except that which moved him to maintain his truth. the young prince, richly attended, set out, and with him rogero. they arrived at paris, but leo preferred not to enter the city, and pitched his tents without the walls, making known his arrival to charlemagne by an embassy. the monarch was pleased, and testified his courtesy by visits and gifts. the prince set forth the purpose of his coming, and prayed the emperor to dispatch his suit--"to send forth the damsel who refused ever to take in wedlock any lord inferior to herself in fight; for she should be his bride, or he would perish beneath her sword." rogero passed the night before the day assigned for the battle like that which the felon spends, condemned to pay the forfeit of his life on the ensuing day. he chose to fight with sword only, and on foot, for he would not let her see frontino, knowing that she would recognize the steed. nor would he use balisarda, for against that enchanted blade all armor would be of no avail, and the sword that he did take he hammered well upon the edge to abate its sharpness. he wore the surcoat of prince leo, and his shield, emblazoned with a golden, double-headed eagle. the prince took care to let himself be seen by none. bradamante, meanwhile, prepared herself for the combat far differently. instead of blunting the edge of her falchion she whets the steel, and would fain infuse into it her own acerbity. as the moment approached she seemed to have fire within her veins, and waited impatiently for the trumpet's sound. at the signal she drew her sword, and fell with fury upon her rogero. but as a well- built wall or aged rock stands unmoved the fury of the storm, so rogero, clad in those arms which trojan hector once wore, withstood the strokes which stormed about his head and breast and flank. sparks flew from his shield, his helm, his cuirass; from direct and back strokes, aimed now high, now low, falling thick and fast, like hailstones on a cottage roof; but rogero, with skilful ward, turns them aside, or receives them where his armor is a sure protection, careful only to protect himself, and with no thought of striking in return. thus the hours passed away, and, as the sun approached the west, the damsel began to despair. but so much the more her anger increases, and she redoubles her efforts, like the craftsman who sees his work unfinished while the day is wellnigh spent. o miserable damsel! didst thou know whom thou wouldst kill,--if, in that cavalier matched against thee thou didst but know rogero, on whom thy very life-threads hang, rather than kill him thou wouldst kill thyself, for he is dearer to thee than life. king charles and the peers, who thought the cavalier to be the grecian prince, viewing such force and skill exhibited, and how without assaulting her the knight defended himself, were filled with admiration, and declared the champions well matched, and worthy of each other. when the sun was set charlemagne gave the signal for terminating the contest, and bradamante was awarded to prince leo as a bride. rogero, in deep distress, returned to his tent. there leo unlaced his helmet, and kissed him on both cheeks. "henceforth," said he, "do with me as you please, for you cannot exhaust my gratitude." rogero replied little, laid aside the ensigns he had worn, and resumed the unicorn, then hasted to withdraw himself from all eyes. when it was midnight he rose, saddled frontino, and sallied from his tent, taking that direction which pleased his steed. all night he rode absorbed in bitter woe, and called on death as alone capable of relieving his sufferings. at last he entered a forest, and penetrated into its deepest recesses. there he unharnessed frontino, and suffered him to wander where he would. then he threw himself down on the ground, and poured forth such bitter wailings that the birds and beasts, for none else heard him, were moved to pity with his cries. not less was the distress of the lady bradamante, who, rather than wed any one but rogero, resolved to break her word, and defy kindred, court, and charlemagne himself; and, if nothing else would do, to die. but relief came from an unexpected quarter. marphisa, sister of rogero, was a heroine of warlike prowess equal to bradamante. she had been the confidante of their loves, and felt hardly less distress than themselves at seeing the perils which threatened their union. "they are already united by mutual vows," she said, "and in the sight of heaven what more is necessary?" full of this thought she presented herself before charlemagne, and declared that she herself was witness that the maiden had spoken to rogero those words which they who marry swear; and that the compact was so sealed between the pair that they were no longer free, nor could forsake the one the other to take another spouse. this her assertion she offered to prove, in single combat, against prince leo, or any one else. charlemagne, sadly perplexed at this, commanded bradamante to be called, and told her what the bold marphisa had declared. bradamante neither denied nor confirmed the statement, but hung her head, and kept silence. duke aymon was enraged, and would fain have set aside the pretended contract on the ground that, if made at all, it must have been made before rogero was baptized, and therefore void. but not so thought rinaldo, nor the good orlando, and charlemagne knew not which way to decide, when marphisa spoke thus: "since no one else can marry the maiden while my brother lives, let the prince meet rogero in mortal combat, and let him who survives take her for his bride." this saying pleased the emperor, and was accepted by the prince, for he thought that, by the aid of his unknown champion, he should surely triumph in the fight. proclamation was therefore made for rogero to appear and defend his suit; and leo, on his part, caused search to be made on all sides for the knight of the unicorn. meanwhile rogero, overwhelmed with despair, lay stretched on the ground in the forest night and day without food, courting death. here he was discovered by one of leo's people, who, finding him resist all attempts to remove him, hastened to his master, who was not far off, and brought him to the spot. as he approached he heard words which convinced him that love was the cause of the knight's despair; but no clew was given to guide him to the object of that love. stooping down, the prince embraced the weeping warrior, and, in the tenderest accents, said: "spare not, i entreat you, to disclose the cause of your distress, for few such desperate evils betide mankind as are wholly past cure. it grieves me much that you would hide your grief from me, for i am bound to you by ties that nothing can undo. tell me, then, your grief, and leave me to try if wealth, art, cunning, force, or persuasion cannot relieve you. if not, it will be time enough after all has been tried in vain to die." he spoke in such moving accents that rogero could not choose but yield. it was some time before he could command utterance; at last he said, "my lord, when you shall know me for what i am, i doubt not you, like myself, will be content that i should die. know, then, i am that rogero whom you have so much cause to hate, and who so hated you that, intent on putting you to death, he went to seek you at your father's court. this i did because i could not submit to see my promised bride borne off by you. but, as man proposes and god disposes, your great courtesy, well tried in time of sore need, so moved my fixed resolve, that i not only laid aside the hate i bore, but purposed to be your friend forever. you then asked of me to win for you the lady bradamante, which was all one as to demand of me my heart and soul. you know whether i served you faithfully or not. yours is the lady; possess her in peace; but ask me not to live to see it. be content rather that i die; for vows have passed between myself and her which forbid that while i live she can lawfully wive with another." so filled was gentle leo with astonishment at these words that for a while he stood silent, with lips unmoved and steadfast gaze, like a statue. and the discovery that the stranger was rogero not only abated not the good will he bore him, but increased it, so that his distress for what rogero suffered seemed equal to his own. for this, and because he would appear deservedly an emperor's son, and, though in other things outdone, would not be surpassed in courtesy, he says: "rogero, had i known that day when your matchless valor routed my troops that you were rogero, your virtue would have made me your own, as then it made me while i knew not my foe, and i should have no less gladly rescued you from theodora's dungeon. and if i would willingly have done so then, how much more gladly will i now restore the gift of which you would rob yourself to confer it upon me. the damsel is more due to you than to me, and though i know her worth, i would forego not only her, but life itself, rather than distress a knight like you." this and much more he said to the same intent; till at last rogero replied, "i yield, and am content to live, and thus a second time owe my life to you." but several days elapsed before rogero was so far restored as to return to the royal residence, where an embassy had arrived from the bulgarian princes to seek the knight of the unicorn, and tender to him the crown of that country, in place of their king, fallen in battle. thus were things situated when prince leo, leading by the hand rogero, clad in the battered armor in which he had sustained the conflict with bradamante, presented himself before the king. "behold," he said "the champion who maintained from dawn to setting sun the arduous contest; he comes to claim the guerdon of the fight." king charlemagne, with all his peerage, stood amazed; for all believed that the grecian prince himself had fought with bradamante. then stepped forth marphisa, and said, "since rogero is not here to assert his rights, i, his sister, undertake his cause, and will maintain it against whoever shall dare dispute his claim." she said this with so much anger and disdain that the prince deemed it no longer wise to feign, and withdrew rogero's helmet from his brow, saying, "behold him here!" who can describe the astonishment and joy of marphisa! she ran and threw her arms about her brother's neck, nor would give way to let charlemagne and rinaldo, orlando, dudon, and the rest, who crowded round, embrace him, and press friendly kisses on his brow. the joyful tidings flew fast by many a messenger to bradamante, who in her secret chamber lay lamenting. the blood that stagnated about her heart flowed at that notice so fast, that she had wellnigh died for joy. duke aymon and the lady beatrice no longer withheld their consent, and pledged their daughter to the brave rogero before all that gallant company. now came the bulgarian ambassadors, and, kneeling at the feet of rogero, besought him to return with them to their country, where, in adrianople, the crown and sceptre were awaiting his acceptance. prince leo united his persuasions to theirs, and promised, in his royal father's name, that peace should be restored on their part. rogero gave his consent, and it was surmised that none of the virtues which shone so conspicuously in him so availed to recommend rogero to the lady beatrice as the hearing her future son-in-law saluted as a sovereign prince. the battle of roncesvalles after the expulsion of the saracens from france charlemagne led his army into spain, to punish marsilius, the king of that country, for having sided with the african saracens in the late war. charlemagne succeeded in all his attempts, and compelled marsilius to submit, and pay tribute to france. our readers will remember gano, otherwise called gan, or ganelon, whom we mentioned in one of our early chapters as an old courtier of charlemagne, and a deadly enemy of orlando, rinaldo, and all their friends. he had great influence over charles, from equality of age and long intimacy; and he was not without good qualities: he was brave and sagacious, but envious, false, and treacherous. gan prevailed on charles to send him as ambassador to marsilius, to arrange the tribute. he embraced orlando over and over again at taking leave, using such pains to seem loving and sincere, that his hypocrisy was manifest to every one but the old monarch. he fastened with equal tenderness on oliver, who smiled contemptuously in his face, and thought to himself, "you may make as many fair speeches as you choose, but you lie." all the other paladins who were present thought the same, and they said as much to the emperor, adding that gan should on no account be sent ambassador to the spaniards. but charles was infatuated. gan was received with great honor by marsilius. the king, attended by his lords, came fifteen miles out of saragossa to meet him, and then conducted him into the city with acclamations. there was nothing for several days but balls, games, and exhibitions of chivalry, the ladies throwing flowers on the heads of the french knights, and the people shouting, "france! mountjoy and st. denis!" after the ceremonies of the first reception the king and the ambassador began to understand one another. one day they sat together in a garden on the border of a fountain. the water was so clear and smooth it reflected every object around, and the spot was encircled with fruit-trees which quivered with the fresh air. as they sat and talked, as if without restraint, gan, without looking the king in the face, was enabled to see the expression of his countenance in the water, and governed his speech accordingly. marsilius was equally adroit, and watched the face of gan while he addressed him. marsilius began by lamenting, not as to the ambassador, but as to the friend, the injuries which charles had done him by invading his dominions, charging him with wishing to take his kingdom from him and give it to orlando; till at length he plainly uttered his belief that if that ambitious paladin were but dead good men would get their rights. gan heaved a sigh, as if he was unwillingly compelled to allow the force of what the king said; but unable to contain himself long he lifted up his face, radiant with triumphant wickedness, and exclaimed: "every word you utter is truth; die he must, and die also must oliver, who struck me that foul blow at court. is it treachery to punish affronts like these? i have planned everything,--i have settled everything already with their besotted master. orlando will come to your borders--to roncesvalles--for the purpose of receiving the tribute. charles will await him at the foot of the mountains. orlando will bring but a small band with him: you, when you meet him, will have secretly your whole army at your back. you surround him, and who receives tribute then?" the new judas had scarcely uttered these words when his exultation was interrupted by a change in the face of nature. the sky was suddenly overcast, there was thunder and lightning, a laurel was split in two from head to foot, and the carob-tree under which gan was sitting, which is said to be the species of tree on which judas iscariot hung himself, dropped one of its pods on his head. marsilius, as well as gan, was appalled at this omen; but on assembling his soothsayers they came to the conclusion that the laurel-tree turned the omen against the emperor, the successor of the caesars, though one of them renewed the consternation of gan by saying that he did not understand the meaning of the tree of judas, and intimating that perhaps the ambassador could explain it. gan relieved his vexation by anger; the habit of wickedness prevailed over all other considerations; and the king prepared to march to roncesvalles at the head of all his forces. gan wrote to charlemagne to say how humbly and submissively marsilius was coming to pay the tribute into the hands of orlando, and how handsome it would be of the emperor to meet him half-way, and so be ready to receive him after the payment at his camp. he added a brilliant account of the tribute, and the accompanying presents. the good emperor wrote in turn to say how pleased he was with the ambassador's diligence, and that matters were arranged precisely as he wished. his court, however, had its suspicion still, though they little thought gan's object in bringing charles into the neighborhood of roncesvalles was to deliver him into the hands of marsilius, after orlando should have been destroyed by him. orlando, however, did as his lord and sovereign desired. he went to roncesvalles, accompanied by a moderate train of warriors, not dreaming of the atrocity that awaited him. gan, meanwhile, had hastened back to france, in order to show himself free and easy in the presence of charles, and secure the success of his plot; while marsilius, to make assurance doubly sure, brought into the passes of roncesvalles no less than three armies, which were successively to fall on the paladin in case of the worst, and so extinguish him with numbers. he had also, by gan's advice, brought heaps of wine and good cheer to be set before his victims in the first instance; "for that," said the traitor, "will render the onset the more effective, the feasters being unarmed. one thing, however, i must not forget," added he; "my son baldwin is sure to be with orlando; you must take care of his life for my sake." "i give him this vesture off my own body," said the king; "let him wear it in the battle, and have no fear. my soldiers shall be directed not to touch him." gan went away rejoicing to france. he embraced the sovereign and the court all round with the air of a man who had brought them nothing but blessings, and the old king wept for very tenderness and delight. "something is going on wrong, and looks very black," thought malagigi, the good wizard; "rinaldo is not here, and it is indispensably necessary that he should be. i must find out where he is, and ricciardetto too, and send for them with all speed." malagigi called up by his art a wise, terrible, and cruel spirit, named ashtaroth. "tell me, and tell me truly, of rinaldo," said malagigi to the spirit. the demon looked hard at the paladin, and said nothing. his aspect was clouded and violent. the enchanter, with an aspect still cloudier, bade ashtaroth lay down that look, and made signs as if he would resort to angrier compulsion; and the devil, alarmed, loosened his tongue, and said, "you have not told me what you desire to know of rinaldo." "i desire to know what he has been doing, and where he is." "he has been conquering and baptizing the world, east and west," said the demon, "and is now in egypt with ricciardetto." "and what has gan been plotting with marsilius?" inquired malagigi; "and what is to come of it?" "i know not," said the devil. "i was not attending to gan at the time, and we fallen spirits know not the future. all i discern is that by the signs and comets in the heavens something dreadful is about to happen--something very strange, treacherous, and bloody; and that gan has a seat ready prepared for him in hell." "within three days," cried the enchanter, loudly, "bring rinaldo and ricciardetto into the pass of ronces-valles. do it, and i hereby undertake to summon thee no more." "suppose they will not trust themselves with me?" said the spirit. "enter rinaldo's horse, and bring him, whether he trust thee or not." "it shall be done," returned the demon. there was an earthquake, and ashtaroth disappeared. marsilius now made his first movement towards the destruction of orlando, by sending before him his vassal, king blanchardin, with his presents of wines and other luxuries. the temperate but courteous hero took them in good part, and distributed them as the traitor wished; and then blanchardin, on pretence of going forward to salute charlemagne, returned, and put himself at the head of the second army, which was the post assigned him by his liege- lord. king falseron, whose son orlando had slain in battle, headed the first army, and king balugante the third. marsilius made a speech to them, in which he let them into his design, and concluded by recommending to their good will the son of his friend gan, whom they would know by the vest he had sent him, and who was the only soul amongst the christian they were to spare. this son of gan, meanwhile, and several of the paladins, who distrusted the misbelievers, and were anxious at all events to be with orlando, had joined the hero in the fatal valley; so that the little christian host, considering the tremendous valor of their lord and his friends, were not to be sold for nothing. rinaldo, alas! the second thunderbolt of christendom, was destined not to be there in time to meet the issue. the paladins in vain begged orlando to be on his guard against treachery, and send for a more numerous body of men. the great heart of the champion of the faith was unwilling to harbor suspicion as long as he could help it. he refused to summon aid which might be superfluous; neither would he do anything but what his liege-lord had directed. and yet he could not wholly repress a misgiving. a shadow had fallen on his heart, great and cheerful as it was. the anticipations of his friends disturbed him, in spite of the face with which he met them. perhaps by a certain foresight he felt his death approaching; but he felt bound not to encourage the impression. besides, time pressed; the moment of the looked-for tribute was at hand, and little combinations of circumstances determine often the greatest events. king marsilius was to arrive early next day with the tribute, and oliver, with the morning sun, rode forth to reconnoitre, and see if he could discover the peaceful pomp of the spanish court in the distance. he rode up the nearest height, and from the top of it beheld the first army of marsilius already forming in the passes. "o devil gan," he exclaimed, "this then is the consummation of thy labors!" oliver put spurs to his horse, and galloped back down the mountain to orlando. "well," cried the hero, "what news?" "bad news," said his cousin, "such as you would not hear of yesterday. marsilius is here in arms, and all the world is with him." the paladins pressed round orlando, and entreated him to sound his horn, in token that he needed help. his only answer was to mount his horse, and ride up the mountain with sansonetto. as soon, however, as he cast forth his eyes, and beheld what was round about him, he turned in sorrow, and looked down into roncesvalles, and said, "o miserable valley! the blood shed in thee this day will color thy name forever." orlando's little camp were furious against the saracens. they armed themselves with the greatest impatience. there was nothing but lacing of helmets and mounting of horses, while good archbishop turpin went from rank to rank exhorting and encouraging the warriors of christ. orlando and his captains withdrew for a moment to consultation. he fairly groaned for sorrow, and at first had not a word to say, so wretched he felt at having brought his people to die in roncesvalles. then he said: "if it had entered into my heart to conceive the king of spain to be such a villain never would you have seen this day. he has exchanged with me a thousand courtesies and good words; and i thought that the worse enemies we had been before, the better friends we had become now. i fancied every human being capable of this kind of virtue on a good opportunity, saving, indeed, such base-hearted wretches as can never forgive their very forgivers; and of these i did not suppose him to be one. let us die, if die we must, like honest and gallant men, so that it shall be said of us it was only our bodies that died. the reason why i did not sound the horn was partly because i thought it did not become us, and partly because our liege lord could hardly save us, even if he heard it." and with these words orlando sprang to his horse, crying, "aways against the saracens!" but he had no sooner turned his face than he wept bitterly, and said, "o holy virgin, think not of me, the sinner orlando, but have pity on these thy servants!" and now with a mighty dust, and an infinite sound of horns and tambours, which came filling the valley, the first army of the infidels made its appearance, horses neighing, and a thousand pennons flying in the air. king falseron led them on, saying to his officers: "let nobody dare to lay a finger on orlando. he belongs to myself. the revenge of my son's death is mine. i will cut the man down that comes between us." "now, friends," said orlando, "every man for himself, and st. michael for us all! there is not one here that is not a perfect knight." and he might well say it, for the flower of all france was there, except rinaldo and ricciardetto--every man a picked man, all friends and constant companions of orlando. so the captains of the little troop and of the great army sat looking at one another, and singling one another out as the latter came on, and then the knights put spear in rest, and ran for a while two and two in succession, one against the other. astolpho was the first to move. he ran against arlotto of sorio, and thrust his antagonist's body out of the saddle, and his soul into the other world. oliver encountered malprimo, and, though he received a thrust which hurt him, sent his lance right through the heart of malprimo. falseron was daunted at this blow. "truly," thought he, "this is a marvel." oliver did not press on among the saracens, his wound was too painful; but orlando now put himself and his whole band in motion, and you may guess what an uproar ensued. the sound of the rattling of blows and helmets was as if the forge of vulcan had been thrown open. falseron beheld orlando coming so furiously, that he thought him a lucifer who had burst his chain, and was quite of another mind than when he purposed to have him all to himself. on the contrary, he recommended himself to his gods, and turned away, meaning to wait for a more auspicious season of revenge. but orlando hailed him with a terrible voice, saying, "o thou traitor! was this the end to which old quarrels were made up?" then he dashed at falseron with a fury so swift, and at the same time with a mastery of his lance so marvellous, that, though he plunged it in the man's body so as instantly to kill him, and then withdrew it, the body did not move in the saddle. the hero himself, as he rushed onwards, was fain to see the end of a stroke so perfect, and turning his horse back, touched the carcass with his sword, and it fell on the instant! when the infidels beheld their leader dead such fear fell upon them that they were for leaving the field to the paladins, but they were unable. marsilius had drawn the rest of his forces round the valley like a net, so that their shoulders were turned in vain. orlando rode into the thick of them, and wherever he went thunderbolts fell upon helmets. oliver was again in the fray, with walter and baldwin, avino and avolio, while arch-bishop turpin had changed his crosier for a lance, and chased a new flock before him to the mountains. yet what could be done against foes without number? marsilius constantly pours them in. the paladins are as units to thousands. why tarry the horses of rinaldo and ricciardetto? the horses did not tarry, but fate had been quicker than enchantment. ashtaroth had presented himself to rinaldo in egypt, and, after telling his errand, he and foul-mouth, his servant, entered the horses of rinaldo and ricciardetto, which began to neigh, and snort, and leap with the fiends within them, till off they flew through the air over the pyramids and across the desert, and reached spain and the scene of action just as marsilius brought up his third army. the two paladins on their horses dropped right into the midst of the saracens, and began making such havoc among them that marsilius, who overlooked the fight from a mountain, thought his soldiers had turned against one another. orlando beheld it, and guessed it could be no other but his cousins, and pressed to meet them. oliver coming up at the same moment, the rapture of the whole party is not to be expressed. after a few hasty words of explanation they were forced to turn again upon the enemy, whose numbers seemed perfectly without limit. orlando, making a bloody passage towards marsilius, struck a youth on the head, whose helmet was so strong as to resist the blow, but at the same time flew off, orlando prepared to strike a second blow, when the youth exclaimed, "hold! you loved my father; i am bujaforte!" the paladin had never seen bujaforte, but he saw the likeness to the good old man, his father, and he dropped his sword. "o bujaforte," said he, "i loved him indeed; but what does his son do here fighting against his friends?" bujaforte could not at once speak for weeping. at length he said: "i am forced to be here by my lord and master, marsilius; and i have made a show of fighting, but have not hurt a single christian. treachery is on every side of you. baldwin himself has a vest given him by marsilius, that everybody may know the son of his friend gan, and do him no harm." "put your helmet on again," said orlando, "and behave just as you have done. never will your father's friend be an enemy to the son." the hero then turned in fury to look for baldwin, who was hastening towards him at that moment, with friendliness in his looks. "'tis strange," said baldwin, "i have done my duty as well as i could, yet nobody will come against me. i have slain right and left, and cannot comprehend what it is that makes the stoutest infidels avoid me." "take off your vest," said orlando, contemptuously, "and you will soon discover the secret, if you wish to know it. your father has sold us to marsilius, all but his honorable son." "if my father," said baldwin, impetuously tearing off the vest, "has been such a villain, and i escape dying, i will plunge this sword through his heart. but i am no traitor, orlando, and you do me wrong to say it. think not i can live with dishonor." baldwin spurred off into the fight, not waiting to hear another word from orlando, who was very sorry for what he had said, for he perceived that the youth was in despair. and now the fight raged beyond all it had done before; twenty pagans went down for one paladin, but still the paladins fell. sansonetto was beaten to earth by the club of grandonio, walter d'amulion had his shoulder broken, berlinghieri and ottone were slain, and at last astolpho fell, in revenge of whose death orlando turned the spot where he died into a lake of saracen blood. the luckless bujaforte met rinaldo, and before he could explain how he seemed to be fighting on the saracen side received such a blow upon the head that he fell, unable to utter a word. orlando, cutting his way to a spot where there was a great struggle and uproar, found the poor youth baldwin, the son of gan, with two spears in his breast. "i am no traitor now," said baldwin, and those were the last words he said. orlando was bitterly sorry to have been the cause of his death, and tears streamed from his eyes. at length down went oliver himself. he had become blinded with his own blood, and smitten orlando without knowing him. "how now, cousin," cried orlando, "have you too gone over to the enemy?" "o my lord and master," cried the other, "i ask your pardon. i can see nothing; i am dying. some traitor has stabbed me in the back. if you love me, lead my horse into the thick of them, so that i may not die unavenged." "i shall die myself before long," said orlando, "out of very toil and grief; so we will go together." orlando led his cousin's horse where the press was thickest, and dreadful was the strength of the dying man and his tired companion. they made a street through which they passed out of the battle, and orlando led his cousin away to his tent, and said, "wait a little till i return, for i will go and sound the horn on the hill yonder." "'tis of no use," said oliver, "my spirit is fast going and desires to be with its lord and saviour." he would have said more, but his words came from him imperfectly, like those of a man in a dream, and so he expired. when orlando saw him dead he felt as if he was alone on the earth, and he was quite willing to leave it, only he wished that king charles, at the foot of the mountains, should know how the case stood before he went. so he took up the horn and blew it three times, with such force that the blood burst out of his nose and mouth. turpin says that at the third blast the horn broke in two. in spite of all the noise of the battle, the sound of the horn broke over it like a voice out of the other world. they say that birds fell dead at it, and that the whole saracen army drew back in terror. charlemagne was sitting in the midst of his court when the sound reached him, and gan was there. the emperor was the first to hear it. "do you hear that?" said he to his nobles. "did you hear the horn as i heard it?" upon this they all listened, and gan felt his heart misgive him. the horn sounded a second time. "what is the meaning of this?" said charles. "orlando is hunting," observed gan, "and the stag is killed." but when the horn sounded yet a third time, and the blast was one of so dreadful a vehemence, everybody looked at the other, and then they all looked at gan in a fury. charles rose from his seat. "this is no hunting of the stag," said he. "the sound goes to my very heart. o gan! o gan! not for thee do i blush, but for myself. o foul and monstrous villain! take him, gentleman, and keep him in close prison. would to god i had not lived to see this day!" but it was no time for words. they put the traitor in prison and then charles, with all his court, took his way to roncesvalles, grieving and praying. it was afternoon when the horn sounded, and half an hour after it when the emperor set out; and meantime orlando had returned to the fight that he might do his duty, however hopeless, as long as he could sit his horse. at length he found his end approaching, for toil and fever, and rode all alone to a fountain where he had before quenched his thirst. his horse was wearier than he, and no sooner had his master alighted than the beast, kneeling down as if to take leave, and to say, "i have brought you to a place of rest," fell dead at his feet. orlando cast water on him from the fountain, not wishing to believe him dead; but when he found it to no purpose, he grieved for him as if he had been a human being, and addressed him by name with tears, and asked forgiveness if he had ever done him wrong. they say that the horse, at these words, opened his eyes a little, and looked kindly at his master, and then stirred never more. they say also that orlando then summoning all his strength, smote a rock near him with his beautiful sword durindana, thinking to shiver the steel in pieces, and so prevent its falling into the hands of the enemy, but though the rock split like a slate, and a great cleft remained ever after to astonish the eyes of pilgrims, the sword remained uninjured. and now rinaldo and ricciardetto came up, with turpin, having driven back the saracens, and told orlando that the battle was won. then orlando knelt before turpin and begged remission of his sins, and turpin gave him absolution. orlando fixed his eyes on the hilt of his sword as on a crucifix, and embraced it, and he raised his eyes and appeared like a creature seraphical and transfigured, and bowing his head, he breathed out his pure soul. and now king charles and his nobles came up. the emperor, at sight of the dead orlando, threw himself, as if he had been a reckless youth, from his horse, and embraced and kissed the body, and said: "i bless thee, orlando; i bless thy whole life, and all that thou wast, and all that thou ever didst, and the father that begat thee; and i ask pardon of thee for believing those who brought thee to thine end. they shall have their reward, o thou beloved one! but indeed it is thou that livest, and i who am worse than dead." horrible to the emperor's eyes was the sight of the field of roncesvalles. the saracens indeed had fled, conquered; but all his paladins but two were left on it dead, and the whole valley looked like a great slaughter-house, trampled into blood and dirt, and reeking to the heat. charles trembled to his heart's core for wonder and agony. after gazing dumbly on the place he cursed it with a solemn curse, and wished that never grass might grow in it again, nor seed of any kind, neither within it nor on any of its mountains around, but the anger of heaven abide over it forever. charles and his warriors went after the saracens into spain. they took and fired saragossa, and marsilius was hung to the carob-tree under which he had planned his villainy with gan; and gan was hung and drawn and quartered in roncesvalles, amidst the execrations of the country. rinaldo and bayard charlemagne was overwhelmed with grief at the loss of so many of his bravest warriors at the disaster of roncesvalles, and bitterly reproached himself for his credulity in resigning himself so completely to the counsels of the treacherous count gan. yet he soon fell into a similar snare when he suffered his unworthy son, charlot, to acquire such an influence over him, that he constantly led him into acts of cruelty and injustice that in his right mind he would have scorned to commit. rinaldo and his brothers, for some slight offence to the imperious young prince, were forced to fly from paris, and to take shelter in their castle of montalban; for charles had publicly said, if he could take them he would hang them all. he sent numbers of his bravest knights to arrest them, but all without success. either rinaldo foiled their efforts and sent them back, stripped of their armor and of their glory, or, after meeting and conferring with him, they came back and told the king they could not be his instruments for such a work. at last charles himself raised a great army, and went in person to compel the paladin to submit. he ravaged all the country round about montalban, so that supplies of food should be cut off, and he threatened death to any who should attempt to issue forth, hoping to compel the garrison to submit for want of food. rinaldo's resources had been brought so low that it seemed useless to contend any longer. his brothers had been taken prisoners in a skirmish, and his only hope of saving their lives was in making terms with the king. so he sent a messenger, offering to yield himself and his castle if the king would spare his and his brothers' lives. while the messenger was gone rinaldo, impatient to learn what tidings he might bring, rode out to meet him. when he had ridden as far as he thought prudent he stopped in a wood, and alighting, tied bayard to a tree. then he sat down, and, as he waited, he fell asleep. bayard meanwhile got loose, and strayed away where the grass tempted him. just then came along some country people, who said to one another, "look, is not that the great horse bayard that rinaldo rides? let us take him, and carry him to king charles, who will pay us well for our trouble." they did so, and the king was delighted with his prize, and gave them a present that made them rich to their dying day. when rinaldo woke he looked round for his horse, and, finding him not, he groaned, and said, "o unlucky hour that i was born! how fortune persecutes me!" so desperate was he that he took off his armor and his spurs, saying, "what need have i of these, since bayard is lost?" while he stood thus lamenting, a man came from the thicket, seemingly bent with age. he had a long beard hanging over his breast, and eyebrows that almost covered his eyes. he bade rinaldo good day. rinaldo thanked him, and said, "a good day i have hardly had since i was born." then said the old man, "signor rinaldo, you must not despair, for god will make all things turn to the best." rinaldo answered, "my trouble is too heavy for me to hope relief. the king has taken my brothers, and means to put them to death. i thought to rescue them by means of my horse bayard, but while i slept some thief has stolen him." the old man replied, "i will remember you and your brothers in my prayers. i am a poor man, have you not something to give me?" rinaldo said, "i have nothing to give," but then he recollected his spurs. he gave them to the beggar, and said, "here, take my spurs. they are the first present my mother gave me when my father, count aymon, dubbed me knight. they ought to bring you ten pounds." the old man took the spurs, and put them into his sack, and said, "noble sir, have you nothing else you can give me?" rinaldo replied, "are you making sport of me? i tell you truly if it were not for shame to beat one so helpless, i would teach you better manners." the old man said, "of a truth, sir, if you did so you would do a great sin. if all had beaten me of whom i have begged i should have been killed long ago, for i ask alms in churches and convents, and wherever i can." "you say true," replied rinaldo, "if you did not ask, none would relieve you." the old man said, "true, noble sir, therefore i pray if you have anything more to spare, give it me." rinaldo gave him his mantle, and said, "take it, pilgrim. i give it you for the love of christ, that god would save my brothers from a shameful death, and help me to escape out of king charles's power." the pilgrim took the mantle, folded it up, and put it into his bag. then a third time he said to rinaldo, "sir, have you nothing left to give me that i may remember you in my prayers?" "wretch!" exclaimed rinaldo, "do you make me your sport?" and he drew his sword, and struck at him; but the old man warded off the blow with his staff, and said, "rinaldo, would you slay your cousin, malagigi?" when rinaldo heard that he stayed his hand, and gazed doubtingly on the old man, who now threw aside his disguise, and appeared to be indeed malagigi. "dear cousin," said rinaldo, "pray forgive me. i did not know you. next to god, my trust is in you. help my brothers to escape out of prison, i entreat you. i have lost my horse, and therefore cannot render them any assistance." malagigi answered, "cousin rinaldo, i will enable you to recover your horse. meanwhile, you must do as i say." then malagigi took from his sack a gown, and gave it to rinaldo to put on over his armor, and a hat that was full of holes, and an old pair of shoes to put on. they looked like two pilgrims, very old and poor. then they went forth from the wood, and after a little while saw four monks riding along the road. malagigi said to rinaldo, "i will go meet the monks, and see what news i can learn." malagigi learned from the monks that on the approaching festival there would be a great crowd of people at court, for the prince was going to show the ladies the famous horse bayard that used to belong to rinaldo. "what!" said the pilgrim; "is bayard there?" "yes," answered the monks; "the king has given him to charlot, and, after the prince has ridden him the king means to pass sentence on the brothers of rinaldo, and have them hanged." then malagigi asked alms of the monks, but they would give him none, till he threw aside his pilgrim garb, and let them see his armor, when, partly for charity and partly for terror, they gave him a golden cup, adorned with precious stones that sparkled in the sunshine. malagigi then hastened back to rinaldo, and told him what he had learned. the morning of the feast-day rinaldo and malagigi came to the place where the sports were to be held. malagigi gave rinaldo his spurs back again, and said, "cousin, put on your spurs, for you will need them." "how shall i need them," said rinaldo, "since i have lost my horse?" yet he did as malagigi directed him. when the two had taken their stand on the border of the field among the crowd the princes and ladies of the court began to assemble. when they were all assembled the king came also, and charlot with him, near whom the horse bayard was led, in the charge of grooms, who were expressly enjoined to guard him safely. the king, looking round on the circle of spectators, saw malagigi and rinaldo, and observed the splendid cup that they had, and said to charlot, "see, my son, what a brilliant cup those two pilgrims have got. it seems to be worth a hundred ducats." "that is true," said charlot; "let us go and ask where they got it." so they rode to the place where the pilgrims stood, and charlot stopped bayard close to them. the horse snuffed at the pilgrims, knew rinaldo, and caressed his master. the king said to malagigi, "friend, where did you get that beautiful cup?" malagigi replied, "honorable sir, i paid for it all the money i have saved from eleven years' begging in churches and convents. the pope himself has blessed it, and given it the power that whosoever eats or drinks out of it shall be pardoned of all his sins." then said the king to charlot, "my son, these are right holy men; see how the dumb beast worships them." then the king said to malagigi, "give me a morsel from your cup, that i may be cleared of my sins." malagigi answered, "illustrious lord, i dare not do it, unless you will forgive all who have at any time offended you. you know that christ forgave all those who had betrayed and crucified him." the king replied, "friend, that is true; but rinaldo has so grievously offended me, that i cannot forgive him, nor that other man, malagigi, the magician. these two shall never live in my kingdom again. if i catch them i will certainly have them hanged. but tell me, pilgrim, who is that man who stands beside you?" "he is deaf, dumb, and blind," said malagigi. then the king said again, "give me to drink of your cup, to take away my sins." malagigi answered, "my lord king, here is my poor brother, who for fifty days has not heard, spoken, nor seen. this misfortune befell him in a house where we found shelter, and the day before yesterday we met with a wise woman, who told him the only hope of a cure for him was to come to some place where bayard was to be ridden, and to mount and ride him; that would do him more good than anything else." then said the king, "friend, you have come to the right place, for bayard is to be ridden here to-day. give me a draught from your cup, and your companion shall ride upon bayard." malagigi, hearing these words, said, "be it so." then the king, with great devotion, took a spoon, and dipped a portion from the pilgrim's cup, believing that his sins should be thereby forgiven. when this was done, the king said to charlot, "son, i request that you will let this sick pilgrim sit on your horse, and ride if he can, for by so doing he will be healed of all his infirmities." charlot replied, "that will i gladly do." so saying, he dismounted, and the servants took the pilgrim in their arms, and helped him on the horse. wher rinaldo was mounted, he put his feet in the stirrups, and said, "i would like to ride a little." malagigi, hearing him speak, seemed delighted, and asked him whether he could see and hear also. "yes," said rinaldo, "i am healed of all my infirmities." when the king heard it he said to bishop turpin, "my lord bishop, we must celebrate this with a procession, with crosses and banners, for it is a great miracle." when rinaldo remarked that he was not carefully watched, he spoke to the horse, and touched him with the spurs. bayard knew that his master was upon him, and he started off upon a rapid pace, and in a few moments was a good way off. malagigi pretended to be in great alarm. "o noble king and master," he cried, "my poor companion is run away with; he will fall and break his neck." the king ordered his knights to ride after the pilgrim, and bring him back, or help him if need were. they did so, but it was in vain. rinaldo left them all behind him, and kept on his way till he reached montalban. malagigi was suffered to depart, unsuspected, and he went his way, making sad lamentation for the fate of his comrade, who he pretended to think must surely be dashed to pieces. malagigi did not go far, but having changed his disguise, returned to where the king was, and employed his best art in getting the brothers of rinaldo out of prison. he succeeded; and all three got safely to montalban, where rinaldo's joy at the rescue of his brothers and the recovery of bayard was more than tongue can tell. death of rinaldo the distress in rinaldo's castle for want of food grew more severe every day, under the pressure of the siege. the garrison were forced to kill their horses, both to save the provision they would consume, and to make food of their flesh. at last all the horses were killed except bayard, and rinaldo said to his brothers, "bayard must die, for we have nothing else to eat." so they went to the stable and brought out bayard to kill him. but alardo said, "brother, let bayard live a little longer; who knows what god may do for us?" bayard heard these words, and understood them as if he was a man, and fell on his knees, as if he would beg for mercy. when rinaldo saw the distress of his horse his heart failed him, and he let him live. just at this time aya, rinaldo's mother, who was the sister of the emperor, came to the camp, attended by knights and ladies, to intercede for her sons. she fell on her knees before the king, and besought him that he would pardon rinaldo and his brothers: and all the peers and knights took her side, and entreated the king to grant her prayer. then said the king, "dear sister, you act the part of a good mother, and i respect your tender heart, and yield to your entreaties. i will spare your sons their lives if they submit implicitly to my will." when charlot heard this he approached the king and whispered in his ear. and the king turned to his sister and said, "charlot must have bayard, because i have given the horse to him. now go, my sister, and tell rinaldo what i have said." when the lady aya heard these words she was delighted, thanked god in her heart, and said, "worthy king and brother, i will do as you bid me." so she went into the castle, where her sons received her most joyfully and affectionately, and she told them the king's offer. then alardo said, "brother, i would rather have the king's enmity than give bayard to charlot, for i believe he will kill him." likewise said all the brothers. when rinaldo heard them he said, "dear brothers, if we may win our forgiveness by giving up the horse, so be it. let us make our peace, for we cannot stand against the king's power." then he went to his mother, and told her they would give the horse to charlot, and more, too, if the king would pardon them, and forgive all that they had done against his crown and dignity. the lady returned to charles and told him the answer of her sons. when the peace was thus made between the king and the sons of aymon, the brothers came forth from the castle, bringing bayard with them, and, falling at the king's feet, begged his forgiveness. the king bade them rise, and received them into favor in the sight of all his noble knights and counsellors, to the great joy of all, especially of the lady aya, their mother. then rinaldo took the horse bayard, gave him to charlot, and said, "my lord and prince, this horse i give to you; do with him as to you seems good." charlot took him, as had been agreed on. then he made the servants take him to the bridge, and throw him into the water. bayard sank to the bottom, but soon came to the surface again and swam, saw rinaldo looking at him, came to land, ran to his old master, and stood by him as proudly as if he had understanding, and would say, "why did you treat me so?" when the prince saw that he said, "rinaldo, give me the horse again, for he must die." rinaldo replied, "my lord and prince, he is yours without dispute," and gave him to him. the prince then had a millstone tied to each foot, and two to his neck, and made them throw him again into the water. bayard struggled in the water, looked up to his master, threw off the stones, and came back to rinaldo. when alardo saw that, he said, "now must thou be disgraced forever, brother, if thou give up the horse again." but rinaldo answered, "brother, be still. shall i for the horse's life provoke the anger of the king again?" then alardo said, "ah, bayard! what a return do we make for all thy true love and service!" rinaldo gave the horse to the prince again, and said, "my lord, if the horse comes out again i cannot return him to you any more, for it wrings my heart too much." then chariot had bayard loaded with the stones as before, and thrown into the water; and commanded rinaldo that he should not stand where the horse would see him. when bayard rose to the surface he stretched his neck out of the water and looked round for his master, but saw him not. then he sunk to the bottom. rinaldo was so distressed for the loss of bayard that he made a vow to ride no horse again all his life long, nor to bind a sword to his side, but to become a hermit. he resolved to betake himself to some wild wood, but first to return to his castle, to see his children, and to appoint to each his share of his estate. so he took leave of the king and of his brothers, and returned to montalban, and his brothers remained with the king. rinaldo called his children to him, and he made his eldest born, aymeric, a knight, and made him lord of his castle and of his land. he gave to the rest what other goods he had, and kissed and embraced them all, commended them to god, and then departed from them with a heavy heart. he had not travelled far when he entered a wood, and there met with a hermit, who had long been retired from the world. rinaldo greeted him, and the hermit replied courteously, and asked him who he was and what was his purpose. rinaldo replied, "sir, i have led a sinful life; many deeds of violence have i done, and many men have i slain, not always in a good cause, but often under the impulse of my own headstrong passions. i have also been the cause of the death of many of my friends, who took my part, not because they thought me in the right, but only for love of me. and now i come to make confession of all my sins, and to do penance for the rest of my life, if perhaps the mercy of god will forgive me." the hermit said, "friend, i perceive you have fallen into great sins, and have broken the commandments of god, but his mercy is greater than your sins; and if you repent from your heart, and lead a new life, there is yet hope for you that he will forgive you what is past." so rinaldo was comforted, and said, "master, i will stay with you, and what you bid ane i will do." the hermit replied, "roots and vegetables will be your food; shirt or shoes you may not wear; your lot must be poverty and want if you stay with me." rinaldo replied, "i will cheerfully bear all this, and more." so he remained three whole years with the hermit, and after that his strength failed, and it seemed as if he was like to die. one night the hermit had a dream, and heard a voice from heaven, which commanded him to say to his companion that he must without delay go to the holy land, and fight against the heathen. the hermit, when he heard that voice, was glad, and calling rinaldo, he said, "friend, god's angel has commanded me to say to you that you must without delay go to jerusalem, and help our fellow- christians in their struggle with the infidels." then said rinaldo, "ah! master, how can i do that? it is over three years since i made a vow no more to ride a horse, nor take a sword or spear in my hand." the hermit answered, "dear friend, obey god, and do what the angel commanded." "i will do so," said rinaldo, "and pray for me, my master, that god may guide me right." then he departed, and went to the seaside, and took ship and came to tripoli in syria. and as he went on his way his strength returned to him, till it was equal to what it was in his best days. and though he never mounted a horse, nor took a sword in his hand, yet with his pilgrim's staff he did good service in the armies of the christians; and it pleased god that he escaped unhurt, though he was present in many battles, and his courage inspired the men with the same. at last a truce was made with the saracens, and rinaldo, now old and infirm, wishing to see his native land again before he died, took ship and sailed for france. when he arrived he shunned to go to the resorts of the great, and preferred to live among the humble folk, where he was unknown. he did country work, and lived on milk and bread, drank water, and was therewith content. while he so lived he heard that the city of cologne was the holiest and best of cities, on account of the relics and bodies of saints who had there poured out their blood for the faith. this induced him to betake himself thither. when the pious hero arrived at cologne he went to the monastery of st. peter, and lived a holy life, occupied night and day in devotion. it so happened that at that time in the next town to cologne there raged a dreadful pestilence. many people came to rinaldo, to beg him to pray for them, that the plague might be stayed. the holy man prayed fervently, and besought the lord to take away the plague from the people, and his prayer was heard. the stroke of the pestilence was arrested, and all the people thanked the holy man and praised god. now there was at this time at cologne a bishop, called agilolphus, who was a wise and understanding man, who led a pure and secluded life, and set a good example to others. this bishop undertook to build the church of st. peter, and gave notice to all stonemasons and other workmen round about to come to cologne, where they should find work and wages. among others came rinaldo; and he worked among the laborers and did more than four or five common workmen. when they went to dinner he brought stone and mortar so that they had enough for the whole day. when the others went to bed he stretched himself out on the stones. he ate bread only, and drank nothing but water; and had for his wages but a penny a day. the head workman asked him his name, and where he belonged. he would not tell, but said nothing and pursued his work. they called him st. peter's workman, because he was so devoted to his work. when the overseer saw the diligence of this holy man he chid the laziness of the other workmen, and said, "you receive more pay than this good man, but do not do half as much work." for this reason the other workmen hated rinaldo, and made a secret agreement to kill him. they knew that he made it a practice to go every night to a certain church to pray and give alms. so they agreed to lay wait for him, with the purpose to kill him. when he came to the spot, they seized him, and beat him over the head till he was dead. then they put his body into a sack, and stones with it, and cast it into the rhine, in the hope the sack would sink to the bottom, and be there concealed. but god willed not that it should be so, but caused the sack to float on the surface, and be thrown upon the bank. and the soul of the holy martyr was carried by angels, with songs of praise, up to the heavens. now at that time the people of dortmund had become converted to the christian faith; and they sent to the bishop of cologne, and desired him to give them some of the holy relics that are in such abundance in that city. so the bishop called together his clergy to deliberate what answer they should give to this request. and it was determined to give to the people of dortmund the body of the holy man who had just suffered martyrdom. when now the body with the coffin was put on the cart, the cart began to move toward dortmund without horses or help of men, and stopped not till it reached the place where the church of st. rinaldo now stands. the bishop and his clergy followed the holy man to do him honor, with singing of hymns, for a space of three miles. and st. rinaldo has ever since been the patron of that place, and many wonderful works has god done through him, as may be seen in the legends. huon of bordeaux when charlemagne grew old he felt the burden of government become heavier year by year, till at last he called together his high barons and peers to propose to abdicate the empire and the throne of france in favor of his sons, charlot and lewis. the emperor was unreasonably partial to his eldest son; he would have been glad to have had the barons and peers demand charlot for their only sovereign; but that prince was so infamous, for his falsehood and cruelty, that the council strenuously opposed the emperor's proposal of abdicating, and implored him to continue to hold a sceptre which he wielded with so much glory. amaury of hauteville, cousin of ganelon, and now head of the wicked branch of the house of maganza, was the secret partisan of charlot, whom he resembled in his loose morals and bad dispositions. amaury nourished the most bitter resentment against the house of guienne, of which the former duke, sevinus, had often rebuked his misdeeds. he took advantage of this occasion to do an injury to the two young children whom the duke sevinus had left under the charge of the duchess alice, their mother; and at the same time, to advance his interest with charlot by increasing his wealth and power. with this view he suggested to the prince a new idea. he pretended to agree with the opinion of the barons; he said that it would be best to try charlot's capacity for government by giving him some rich provinces before placing him upon the throne; and that the emperor, without depriving himself of any part of his realm, might give charlot the investiture of guienne. for although seven years had passed since the death of sevinus, the young duke, his son, had not yet repaired to the court of charlemagne to render the homage due to his lawful sovereign. we have often had occasion to admire the justice and wisdom of the advice which on all occasions the duke namo of bavaria gave to charlemagne, and he now discountenanced, with indignation, the selfish advice of amaury. he represented to the emperor the early age of the children of sevinus, and the useful and glorious services of their late father, and proposed to charlemagne to send two knights to the duchess at bordeaux, to summon her two sons to the court of the emperor, to pay their respects and render homage. charlemagne approved this advice, and sent two chevaliers to demand the two young princes of their mother. no sooner had the duchess learned the approach of the two knights, than she sent distinguished persons to receive them; and as soon as they entered the palace she presented herself before them, with her elder and younger sons, huon and girard. the deputies, delighted with the honors and caresses they received, accompanied with rich presents, left bordeaux with regret and on their return represented to charlemagne that the young duke huon seemed born to tread in the footsteps of his brave father, informing him that in three months the young princes of guienne would present themselves at his court. the duchess employed the short interval in giving her sons her last instructions. huon received them in his heart, and girard gave as much heed to them as could be expected from one so young. the preparations for their departure having been made, the duchess embraced them tenderly, commending them to the care of heaven, and charged them to call, on their way, at the celebrated monastery of cluny, to visit the abbot, the brother of their father. this abbot, worthy of his high dignity, had never lost an opportunity of doing good, setting an example of every excellence, and making virtue attractive by his example. he received his nephews with the greatest magnificence; and, aware how useful his presence might be to them with charlemagne, whose valued counsellor he was, he took with them the road to paris. when amaury learned what reception the two deputies of charlemagne had received at bordeaux, and the arrangements made for the visit of the young princes to the emperor's court, he suggested to charlot to give him a troop of his guards, with which he proposed to lay wait for the young men in the wood of montlery, put them to death, and thereby give the prince charlot possession of the duchy of guienne. a plan of treachery and violence agreed but too well with charlot's disposition. he not only adopted the suggestion of amaury, but insisted upon taking a part in it. they went out secretly, by night, followed by a great number of attendants, all armed in black, to lie in ambuscade in the wood where the brothers were to pass. girard, the younger of the two, having amused himself as he rode by flying his hawk at such game as presented itself, had ridden in advance of his brother and the abbot of cluny. charlot, who saw him coming, alone and unarmed, went forth to meet him, sought a quarrel with him, and threw him from his horse with a stroke of his lance. girard uttered a cry as he fell; huon heard it, and flew to his defence, with no other weapon than his sword. he came up with him, and saw the blood flowing from his wound. "what has this child done to you, wretch!" he exclaimed to charlot. "how cowardly to attack him when unprepared to defend himself!" "by my faith," said charlot, "i mean to do the same by you. know that i am the son of duke thierry of ardennes, from whom your father, sevinus, took three castles; i have sworn to avenge him, and i defy you." "coward," answered huon, "i know well the baseness that dwells in your race; worthy son of thierry, use the advantage that your armor gives you; but know that i fear you not." at these words charlot had the wickedness to put his lance in rest, and to run upon huon, who had barely time to wrap his arm in his mantle. with this feeble buckler he received the thrust of the lance. it penetrated the mantle, but missed his body. then, rising upon his stirrups, sir huon struck charlot so terrible a blow with his sword that the helmet was cleft asunder, and his head too. the dastardly prince fell dead upon the ground. huon now perceived that the wood was full of armed men. he called the men of his suite, and they hastily put themselves in order, but nobody issued from the wood to attack him. amaury, who saw charlot's fall, had no desire to compromit himself; and, feeling sure that charlemagne would avenge the death of his son, he saw no occasion for his doing anything more at present. he left huon and the abbot of cluny to bind up the wound of girard, and, having seen them depart and resume their way to paris, he took up the body of charlot, and, placing it across a horse, had it carried to paris, where he arrived four hours after huon. the abbot of cluny presented his nephew to charlemagne, but huon refrained from paying his obeisance, complaining grievously of the ambush which had been set for him, which he said could not have been without the emperor's permission. charlemagne, surprised at a charge which his magnanimous soul was incapable of meriting, asked eagerly of the abbot what were the grounds of the complaints of his nephew. the abbot told him faithfully all that had happened, informing him that a coward knight, who called himself the son of thierry of ardennes, had wounded girard, and run upon huon, who was unarmed; but by his force and valor he had overcome the traitor, and left him dead upon the plain. charlemagne indignantly disavowed any connection with the action of the infamous thierry, congratulated the young duke upon his victory, himself conducted the two brothers to a rich apartment, stayed to see the first dressing applied to the wound of girard, and left the brothers in charge of duke namo of bavaria, who, having been a companion in arms of the duke sevinus, regarded the young men almost as if they were his own sons. charlemagne had hardly quitted them when, returning to his chamber, he heard cries, and saw through the window a party of armed men just arrived. he recognized amaury, who bore a dead knight stretched across a horse; and the name of charlot was heard among the exclamations of the people assembled in the court-yard. charles's partiality for this unworthy son was one of his weaknesses. he descended in trepidation to the court-yard, ran to amaury, and uttered a cry of grief on recognizing charlot. "it is huon of bordeaux," said the traitor amaury, "who has massacred your son before it was in my power to defend him." charlemagne, furious at these words, seized a sword, and flew to the apartment of the two brothers to plunge it into the heart of the murderer of his son. duke namo stopped his hand for an instant, while charles told him the crime of which huon was accused. "he is a peer of the realm," said namo, "and if he is guilty, is he not here in your power, and are not we peers the proper judges to condemn him to death? let not your hand be stained with his blood." the emperor, calmed by the wisdom of duke namo, summoned amaury to his presence. the peers assembled to hear his testimony, and the traitor accused huon of bordeaux of having struck the fatal blow without allowing charlot an opportunity to defend himself, and though he knew that his opponent was the emperor's eldest son. the abbot of cluny, indignant at the false accusation of amaury, advanced, and said, "by saint benedict, sire, the traitor lies in his throat. if my nephew has slain charlot it was in his own defence, and after having seen his brother wounded by him, and also in ignorance that his adversary was the prince. though i am a son of the church," added the good abbot, "i forget not that i am a knight by birth. i offer to prove with my body the lie upon amaury, if he dares sustain it, and i shall feel that i am doing a better work to punish a disloyal traitor, than to sing lauds and matins." huon to this time had kept silent, amazed at the black calumny of amaury; but now he stepped forth, and, addressing amaury, said: "traitor! darest thou maintain in arms the lie thou hast uttered?" amaury, a knight of great prowess, despising the youth and slight figure of huon, hesitated not to offer his glove, which huon seized; then, turning again to the peers, he said: "i pray you let the combat be allowed me, for never was there a more legitimate cause." the duke namo and the rest, deciding that the question should be remitted to the judgment of heaven, the combat was ordained, to which charlemagne unwillingly consented. the young duke was restored to the charge of duke namo, who the next morning invested him with the honors of knighthood, and gave him armor of proof, with a white shield. the abbot of cluny, delighted to find in his nephew sentiments worthy of his birth, embraced him, gave him his blessing, and hastened to the church of st. germains to pray for him, while the officers of the king prepared the lists for the combat. the battle was long and obstinate. the address and agility of huon enabled him to avoid the terrible blows which the ferocious amaury aimed at him. but huon had more than once drawn blood from his antagonist. the effect began to be perceived in the failing strength of the traitor; at last he threw himself from his horse, and kneeling, begged for mercy. "spare me," he said, "and i will confess all. aid me to rise, and lead me to charlemagne." the brave and loyal huon, at these words, put his sword under his left arm, and stretched out his right to raise the prostrate man, who seized the opportunity to give him a thrust in the side. the hauberk of huon resisted the blow, and he was wounded but slightly. transported with rage at this act of baseness, he forgot how necessary for his complete acquittal the confession of amaury was, and without delay dealt him the fatal blow. duke namo and the other peers approached, had the body of amaury dragged forth from the lists, and conducted huon to charlemagne. the emperor, however, listening to nothing but his resentment and grief for the death of his son, refused to be satisfied; and under the plea that huon had not succeeded in making his accuser retract his charge seemed resolved to confiscate his estates and to banish him forever from france. it was not till after long entreaties on the part of duke namo and the rest that he consented to grant huon his pardon, under conditions which he should impose. huon approached, and knelt before the emperor, rendered his homage, and cried him mercy for the involuntary killing of his son. charlemagne would not receive the hands of huon in his own, but touched him with his sceptre, saying, "i receive thy homage, and pardon thee the death of my son, but only on one condition. you shall go immediately to the court of the sultan gaudisso; you shall present yourself before him as he sits at meat; you shall cut off the head of the most illustrious guest whom you shall find sitting nearest to him; you shall kiss three times on the mouth the fair princess, his daughter, and you shall demand of the sultan, as token of tribute to me, a handful of the white hair of his beard, and four grinders from his mouth." these conditions caused a murmur from all the assembly. "what!" said the abbot of cluny; "slaughter a saracen prince without first offering him baptism?" "the second condition is not so hard," said the young peers, "but the demand that huon is bound to make of the old sultan is very uncivil, and will be hard to obtain." the emperor's obstinacy when he had once resolved upon a thing is well known. to the courage of huon nothing seemed impossible. "i accept the conditions," said he, silencing the intercessions of the old duke of bavaria; "my liege, i accept my pardon at this price. i go to execute your commands, as your vassal and a peer of france." the duke namo and abbot of cluny, being unable to obtain any relaxation of the sentence passed by charlemagne, led forth the young duke, who determined to set out at once on his expedition. all that the good abbot could obtain of him was, that he should prepare for this perilous undertaking by going first to rome, to pay his homage to the pope, who was the brother of the duchess alice, huon's mother, and from him demand absolution and his blessing. huon promised it, and forthwith set out on his way to rome. huon of bordeaux (continued) huon, having traversed the apennines and italy, arrived at the environs of rome, where, laying aside his armor, he assumed the dress of a pilgrim. in this attire he presented himself before the pope, and not till after he had made a full confession of his sins did he announce himself as his nephew. "ah! my dear nephew," exclaimed the holy father, "what harder penance could i impose than the emperor has already done? go in peace, my son," he added, absolving him, "i go to intercede for you with the most high." then he led his nephew into his palace, and introduced him to all the cardinals and princes of rome as the duke of guienne, son of the duchess alice, his sister. huon, at setting out, had made a vow not to stop more than three days in a place. the holy father took advantage of this time to inspire him with zeal for the glory of christianity, and with confidence in the protection of the most high. he advised him to embark for palestine, to visit the holy sepulchre, and to depart thence for the interior of asia. loaded with the blessings of the holy father, huon, obeying his counsels, embarked for palestine, arrived, and visited with the greatest reverence the holy places. he then departed, and took his way toward the east. but, ignorant of the country and of the language, he lost himself in a forest, and remained three days without seeing a human creature, living on honey and wild fruits which he found on the trees. the third day, seeking a passage through a rocky defile, he beheld a man in tattered clothing, whose beard and hair covered his breast and shoulders. this man stopped on seeing him, observed him, and recognized the arms and bearing of a french knight. he immediately approached, and exclaimed, in the language of the south of france, "god be praised! do i indeed behold a chevalier of my own country, after fifteen years passed in this desert without seeing the face of a fellow-countryman?" huon, to gratify him still more, unlaced his helmet, and came towards him with a smiling countenance. the other regarded him with more surprise than at first. "good heaven!" he exclaimed, "was there ever such a resemblance? ah, noble sir," he added, "tell me, i beseech you, of what country and race you come?" "i require," replied huon, "before telling you mine, that you first reveal your own; let it suffice you at present to know that i am a christian, and that in guienne i was born." "ah! heaven grant that my eyes and my heart do not deceive me," exclaimed the unknown; "my name is sherasmin; i am brother to guire, the mayor of bordeaux. i was taken prisoner in the battle where my dear and illustrious master, sevinus, lost his life. for three years i endured the miseries of slavery; at length i broke my chains and escaped to this desert, where i have sustained myself in solitude ever since. your features recall to me my beloved sovereign, in whose service i was from my infancy till his death." huon made no reply but by embracing the old man, with tears in his eyes. then sherasmin learned that his arms enfolded the son of the duke sevinus. he led him to his cabin, and spread before him the dry fruits and honey which formed his only aliment. huon recounted his adventures to sherasmin, who was moved to tears at the recital. he then consulted him on means of conducting his enterprise. sherasmin hesitated not to confess that success seemed impossible; nevertheless he swore a solemn oath never to abandon him. the saracen language, which he was master of, would be serviceable to them when they should leave the desert, and mingle with men. they took the route of the red sea, and entered arabia. their way lay through a region which sherasmin described as full of terrors. it was inhabited by oberon, king of the fairies, who made captive such knights as were rash enough to penetrate into it, and transformed them into hobgoblins. it was possible to avoid this district at the expense of somewhat lengthening their route; but no dangers could deter huon of bordeaux; and the brave sherasmin, who had now resumed the armor of a knight, reluctantly consented to share with him the dangers of the shorter route. they entered a wood, and arrived at a spot whence alleys branched off in various directions. one of them seemed to be terminated by a superb palace, whose gilded roofs were adorned with brilliant weathercocks covered with diamonds. a superb chariot issued from the gate of the palace, and drove toward huon and his companion, as if to meet them half-way. the prince saw no one in the chariot but a child apparently about five years old, very beautiful, and clad in a robe which glittered with precious stones. at the sight of him, sherasmin's terror was extreme. he seized the reins of huon's horse, and turned him about, hurrying the prince away, and assuring him that they were lost if they stopped to parley with the mischievous dwarf, who, though he appeared a child, was full of years and of treachery. huon was sorry to lose sight of the beautiful dwarf, whose aspect had nothing in it to alarm; yet he followed his friend, who urged on his horse with all possible speed. presently a storm began to roar through the forest, the daylight grew dim, and they found their way with difficulty. from time to time they seemed to hear an infantine voice, which said, "stop, duke huon; listen to me: it is in vain you fly me!" sherasmin only fled the faster, and stopped not until he had reached the gate of a monastery of monks and nuns, the two communities of which were assembled at that time in a religious procession. sherasmin, feeling safe from the malice of the dwarf in the presence of so many holy persons and the sacred banners, stopped to ask an asylum, and made huon dismount also. but at that moment they were joined by the dwarf, who blew a blast upon an ivory horn which hung from his neck. immediately the good sherasmin, in spite of himself, began to dance like a young collegian, and seizing the hand of an aged nun, who felt as if it would be her death, they footed it briskly over the grass, and were imitated by all the other monks and nuns, mingled together, forming the strangest dancing-party ever beheld. huron alone felt no disposition to dance; but he came near dying of laughter at seeing the ridiculous postures and leaps of the others. the dwarf, approaching huon, said, in a sweet voice, and in huon's own language, "duke of guienne, why do you shun me? i conjure you, in heaven's name, speak to me." huon, hearing himself addressed in this serious manner, and knowing that no evil spirit would dare to use the holy name in aid of his schemes, replied, "sir, whoever you are, i am ready to hear and answer you." "huon, my friend," continued the dwarf, "i always loved your race, and you have been dear to me ever since your birth. the gracious state of conscience in which you were when you entered my wood has protected you from all enchantments, even if i had intended to practise any upon you. if these monks, these nuns, and even your friend sherasmin, had had a conscience as pure as yours, my horn would not have set them dancing; but where is the monk or the nun who can always be deaf to the voice of the tempter, and sherasmin in the desert has often doubted the power of providence." at these words huon saw the dancers overcome with exertion. he begged mercy for them, the dwarf granted it, and the effect of the horn ceased at once; the nuns got rid of their partners, smoothed their dresses, and hastened to resume their places in the procession. sherasmin, overcome with heat, panting, and unable to stand on his legs, threw himself upon the grass, and began, "did not i tell you"--he was going on in an angry tone, but the dwarf, approaching, said, "sherasmin, why have you murmured against providence? why have you thought evil of me? you deserved this light punishment; but i know you to be good and loyal; i mean to show myself your friend, as you shall soon see." at these words he presented him a rich goblet. "make the sign of the cross on this cup," said he, "and then believe that i hold my power from the god you adore, whose faithful servant i am, as well as you." sherasmin obeyed, and on the instant the cup was filled with delicious wine, a draught of which restored vigor to his limbs, and made him feel young again. overcome with gratitude, he threw himself on his knees, but the dwarf raised him, and bade him sit beside him, and thus commenced his history: "julius caesar, going by sea to join his army, was driven by a storm to take shelter in the island of celea, where dwelt the fairy glorianda. from this renowned pair i draw my birth. i am the inheritor of that which was most admirable in each of my parents: my father's heroic qualities, and my mother's beauty and magic art. but a malicious sister of my mother's, in revenge for some slight offence, touched me with her wand when i was only five years old, and forbade me to grow any bigger; and my mother, with all her power, was unable to annul the sentence. i have thus continued infantile in appearance, though full of years and experience. the power which i derive from my mother i use sometimes for my own diversion, but always to promote justice and to reward virtue. i am able and willing to assist you, duke of guienne, for i know the errand on which you come hither. i presage for you, if you follow my counsels, complete success; and the beautiful clarimunda for a wife." when he had thus spoken he presented to huon the precious and useful cup, which had the faculty of filling itself when a good man took it in his hand. he gave him also his beautiful horn of ivory, saying to him, "huon, when you sound this gently, you will make the hearers dance, as you have seen; but if you sound it forcibly, fear not that i shall hear it, though at a hundred leagues' distance, and will fly to your relief; but be careful not to sound it in that way, unless upon the most urgent occasion." oberon directed huon what course he should take to reach the country of the sultan gaudisso. "you will encounter great perils," said he, "before arriving there, and i fear me," he added, with tears in his eyes, "that you will not in everything obey my directions, and in that case you will suffer much calamity." then he embraced huon and sherasmin, and left them. huon and his follower travelled many days through the desert before they reached any inhabited place, and all this while the wonderful cup sustained them, furnishing them not only wine, but food also. at last they came to a great city. as day was declining, they entered its suburbs, and sherasmin, who spoke the saracen language perfectly, inquired for an inn where they could pass the night. a person who appeared to be one of the principal inhabitants, seeing two strangers of respectable appearance making this inquiry, stepped forward and begged them to accept the shelter of his mansion. they entered, and their host did the honors of his abode with a politeness which they were astonished to see in a saracen. he had them served with coffee and sherbet, and all was conducted with great decorum, till one of the servants awkwardly overturned a cup of hot coffee on the host's legs, when he started up, exclaiming in very good gascon, "blood and thunder! you blockhead, you deserve to be thrown over the mosque!" huon could not help laughing to see the vivacity and the language of his country thus break out unawares. the host, who had no idea that his guests understood his words, was astonished when huon addressed him in the dialect of his country. immediately confidence was established between them; especially when the domestics had retired. the host, seeing that he was discovered, and that the two pretended saracens were from the borders of the garonne, embraced them, and disclosed that he was a christian. huon, who had learned prudence from the advice of oberon, to test his host's sincerity, drew from his robe the cup which the fairy- king had given him, and presented it empty to the host. "a fair cup," said he, "but i should like it better if it was full." immediately it was so. the host, astonished, dared not put it to his lips. "drink boldly, my dear fellow-countryman," said huon; "your truth is proved by this cup, which only fills itself in the hands of an honest man." the host did not hesitate longer; the cup passed freely from hand to hand; their mutual cordiality increased as it passed, and each recounted his adventures. those of huon redoubled his host's respect; for he recognized in him his legitimate sovereign: while the host's narrative was in these words: "my name is floriac; this great and strong city, you will hear with surprise and grief, is governed by a brother of duke sevinus, and your uncle. you have no doubt heard that a young brother of the duke of guienne was stolen away from the sea-shore, with his companions, by some corsairs. i was then his page, and we were carried by those corsairs to barbary, where we were sold for slaves. the barbary prince sent us as part of the tribute which he yearly paid to his sovereign, the sultan gaudisso. your uncle, who had been somewhat puffed up by the flattery of his attendants, thought to increase his importance with his new master by telling him his rank. the sultan, who, like a true mussulman, detested all christian princes, exerted himself from that moment to bring him over to the saracen faith. he succeeded but too well. your uncle, seduced by the arts of the santons, and by the pleasures and indulgences which the sultan allowed him, committed the horrid crime of apostasy; he renounced his baptism, and embraced mahometanism. gaudisso then loaded him with honors, made him espouse one of his nieces, and sent him to reign over this city and adjoining country. your uncle preserved for me the same friendship which he had had when a boy; but all his caresses and efforts could not make me renounce my faith. perhaps he respected me in his heart for my resistance to his persuasions, perhaps he had hopes of inducing me in time to imitate him. he made me accompany him to this city, of which he was master, he gave me his confidence, and permits me to keep in my service some christians, whom i protect for the sake of their faith." "ah!" exclaimed huon, "take me to this guilty uncle. a prince of the house of guienne, must he not blush at the cowardly abandonment of the faith of his fathers?" "alas!" replied floriac, "i fear he will neither be sensible of shame at your reproaches, nor of pleasure at the sight of a nephew so worthy of his lineage. brutified by sensuality, jealous of his power, which he often exercises with cruelty, he will more probably restrain you by force or put you to death." "be it so," said the brave and fervent huon, "i could not die in a better cause; and i demand of you to conduct me to him to-morrow, after having told him of my arrival and my birth." floriac still objected, but huon would take no denial, and he promised obedience. next morning floriac waited upon the governor and told him of the arrival of his nephew, huon of bordeaux; and of the intention of the prince to present himself at his court that very day. the governor, surprised, did not immediately answer; though he at once made up his mind what to do. he knew that floriac loved christians and the princes of his native land too well to aid in any treason to one of them; he therefore feigned great pleasure at hearing of the arrival of the eldest born of his family at his court. he immediately sent floriac to find him; he caused his palace to be put in festal array, his divan to be assembled, and after giving some secret orders, went himself to meet his nephew, whom he introduced under his proper name and title to all the great officers of his court. huon burned with indignation at seeing his uncle with forehead encircled with a rich turban, surmounted with a crescent of precious stones. his natural candor made him receive with pain the embraces which the treacherous governor lavished upon him. meanwhile the hope of finding a suitable moment to reproach him for his apostasy made him submit to those honors which his uncle caused to be rendered to him. the governor evaded with address the chance of being alone with huon and spent all the morning in taking him through his gardens and palace. at last, when the hour of dinner approached, and the governor took him by the hand to lead him into the dining-hall, huon seized the opportunity and said to him in a low voice, "o my uncle! o prince, brother of the duke sevinus! in what condition have i the grief and shame of seeing you!" the governor pretended to be moved, pressed his hand, and whispered in his ear, "silence! my dear nephew; to-morrow morning i will hear you fully." huon, comforted a little by these words, took his seat at the table by the side of the governor. the mufti, some cadis, agas, and santons, filled the other places. sherasmin sat down with them; but floriac, who would not lose sight of his guests, remained standing, and passed in and out to observe what was going on within the palace. he soon perceived a number of armed men gliding through the passages and antechambers connected with the dining-hall. he was about to enter to give his guests notice of what he had seen when he heard a violent noise and commotion in the hall. the cause was this. huon and sherasmin were well enough suited with the first course and ate with good appetite; but the people of their country not being accustomed to drink only water at their meals, huon and sherasmin looked at one another, not very well pleased at such a regimen. huon laughed outright at the impatience of sherasmin, but soon, experiencing the same want himself, he drew forth oberon's cup and made the sign of the cross. the cup filled and he drank it off, and handed it to sherasmin, who followed his example. the governor and his officers, seeing this abhorred sign, contracted their brows and sat in silent consternation. huon pretended not to observe it, and having filled the cup again handed it to his uncle, saying, "pray, join us, dear uncle; it is excellent bordeaux wine, the drink that will be to you like mother's milk." the governor, who often drank in secret with his own favorite sultanas the wines of greece and shiraz, never in public drank anything but water. he had not for a long time tasted the excellent wines of his native land; he was sorely tempted to drink what was now handed to him, it looked so bright in the cup, outshining the gold itself. he stretched forth his hand, took the brimming goblet, and raised it to his lips, when immediately it dried up and disappeared. huon and sherasmin, like gascons as they were, laughed at his astonishment. "christian dogs!" he exclaimed, "do you dare to insult me at my own table? but i will soon be revenged." at these words he threw the cup at the head of his nephew, who caught it with his left hand, while with the other he snatched the turban, with its crescent, from the governor's head and threw it on the floor. all the saracens started up from table, with loud outcries, and prepared to avenge the insult. huon and sherasmin put themselves on their defence, and met with their swords the scimitars directed against them. at this moment the doors of the hall opened and a crowd of soldiers and armed eunuchs rushed in, who joined in the attack upon huon and sherasmin. the prince and his followers took refuge on a broad shelf or side- board, where they kept at bay the crowd of assailants, making the most forward of them smart for their audacity. but more troops came pressing in and the brave huon, inspired by the wine of bordeaux, and not angry enough to lose his relish for a joke, blew a gentle note on his horn, and no sooner was it heard than it quelled the rage of the combatants and set them to dancing. huon and sherasmin, no longer attacked, looked down from their elevated position on a scene the most singular and amusing. very soon the sultanas, hearing the sound of the dance and finding their guards withdrawn, came into the hall and mixed with the dancers. the favorite sultana seized upon a young santon, who performed jumps two feet high; but soon the long dresses of this couple got intermingled and threw them down. the santon's beard was caught in the sultana's necklace, and they could not disentangle them. the governor by no means approved this familiarity, and took two steps forward to get at the santon, but he stumbled over a prostrate dervise and measured his length on the floor. the dancing continued till the strength of the performers was exhausted, and they fell, one after the other, and lay helpless. the governor at length made signs to huon that he would yield everything if he would but allow him to rest. the bargain was ratified; the governor allowed huon and sherasmin to depart on their way, and even gave them a ring which would procure them safe passage through his country and access to the sultan gaudisso. the two friends hastened to avail themselves of this favorable turn, and taking leave of floriac, pursued their journey. huon of bordeaux (continued) huon had seen many beauties at his mother's court, but his heart had never been touched with love. honor had been his mistress, and in pursuit of that he had never found time to give a thought to softer cares. strange that a heart so insensible should first be touched by something so unsubstantial as a dream; but so it was. the day after the adventure with his uncle night overtook the travellers as they passed through a forest. a grotto offered them shelter from the night dews. the magic cup supplied their evening meal; for such was its virtue that it afforded not only wine, but more solid fare when desired. fatigue soon threw them into profound repose. lulled by the murmur of the foliage, and breathing the fragrance of the flowers, huon dreamed that a lady more beautiful than he had ever before seen hung over him and imprinted a kiss upon his lips. as he stretched out his arms to embrace her a sudden gust of wind swept her away. huon awoke in an agony of regret. a few moments sufficed to afford some consolation in showing him that what had passed was but a dream; but his perplexity and sadness could not escape the notice of sherasmin. huon hesitated not to inform his faithful follower of the reason of his pensiveness; and got nothing in return but his rallyings for allowing himself to be disturbed by such a cause. he recommended a draught from the fairy goblet, and huon tried it with good effect. at early dawn they resumed their way. they travelled till high noon, but said little to one another. huon was musing on his dream, and sherasmin's thoughts flew back to his early days on the banks of the flowery garonne. on a sudden they were startled by the cry of distress, and turning an angle of the wood, came where a knight hard pressed was fighting with a furious lion. the knight's horse lay dead, and it seemed as if another moment would end the combat, for terror and fatigue had quite disabled the knight for further resistance. he fell, and the lion's paw was raised over him, when a blow from huon's sword turned the monster's rage upon a new enemy. his roar shook the forest, and he crouched in act to spring, when, with the rapidity of lightning, huon plunged his sword into his side. he rolled over on the plain in the agonies of death. they raised the knight from the ground, and sherasmin hastened to offer him a draught from the fairy cup. the wine sparkled to the brim, and the warrior put forth his lips to quaff it, but it shrunk away, and did not even wet his lips. he dashed the goblet angrily on the ground, with an exclamation of resentment. this incident did not tend to make either party more acceptable to the other; and what followed was worse. for when huon said, "sir knight, thank god for your deliverance,"--"thank mahomet, rather, yourself," said he, "for he has led you this day to render service to no less a personage than the prince of hyrcania." at the sound of this blasphemy huon drew his sword and turned upon the miscreant, who, little disposed to encounter the prowess of which he had so lately seen proof, betook himself to flight. he ran to huon's horse, and lightly vaulting on his back, clapped spurs to his side, and galloped out of sight. the adventure was vexatious, yet there was no remedy. the prince and sherasmin continued their journey with the aid of the remaining horse as they best might. at length, as evening set in, they descried the pinnacles and towers of a great city full before them, which they knew to be the famous city of bagdad. they were well-nigh exhausted with fatigue when they arrived at its precincts, and in the darkness, not knowing what course to take, were glad to meet an aged woman, who, in reply to their inquiries, offered them such accommodations as her cottage could supply. they thankfully accepted the offer, and entered the low door. the good dame busily prepared the best fare her stores supplied,--milk, figs, and peaches,--deeply regretting that the bleak winds had nipped her almond-trees. sir huon thought he had never in his life tasted any fare so good. the old lady talked while her guests ate. she doubted not, she said, they had come to be present at the great feast in honor of the marriage of the sultan's daughter, which was to take place on the morrow. they asked who the bridegroom was to be, and the old lady answered, "the prince of hyrcania," but added, "our princess hates him, and would rather wed a dragon than him." "how know you that?" asked huon; and the dame informed him that she had it from the princess herself, who was her foster-child. huon inquired the reason of the princess's aversion; and the woman pleased to find her chat excite so much interest, replied that it was all in consequence of a dream. "a dream!" exclaimed huon. "yes! a dream. she dreamed that she was a hind, and that the prince, as a hunter, was pursuing her, and had almost overtaken her, when a beautiful dwarf appeared in view, drawn in a golden car, having by his side a young man of yellow hair and fair complexion, like one from a foreign land. she dreamed that the car stopped where she stood, and that, having resumed her own form, she was about to ascend it, when suddenly it faded from her view, and with it the dwarf and the fair-haired youth. but from her heart that vision did not fade, and from that time her affianced bridegroom, the hyrcanian prince, had become odious to her sight. yet the sultan, her father, by no means regarding such a cause as sufficient to prevent the marriage, had named the morrow as the time when it should be solemnized, in presence of his court and many princes of the neighboring countries, whom the fame of the princess's beauty and the bridegroom's splendor had brought to the scene." we may suppose this conversation woke a tumult of thoughts in the breast of huon. was it not clear that providence led him on, and cleared the way for his happy success? sleep did not early visit the eyes of huon that night; but, with the sanguine temper of youth, he indulged his fancy in imagining the sequel of his strange experience. the next day, which he could not but regard as the decisive day of his fate, he prepared to deliver the message of charlemagne. clad in his armor, fortified with his ivory horn and his ring, he reached the palace of gaudisso when the guests were assembled at the banquet. as he approached the gate a voice called on all true believers to enter; and huon, the brave and faithful huon, in his impatience passed in under that false pretention. he had no sooner passed the barrier than he felt ashamed of his baseness, and was overwhelmed with regret. to make amends for his fault he ran forward to the second gate, and cried to the porter, "dog of a misbeliever, i command you in the name of him who died on the cross, open to me!" the points of a hundred weapons immediately opposed his passage. huon then remembered for the first time the ring he had received from his uncle, the governor. he produced it, and demanded to be led to the sultan's presence. the officer of the guard recognized the ring, made a respectful obeisance, and allowed him free entrance. in the same way he passed the other doors to the rich saloon where the great sultan was at dinner with his tributary princes. at sight of the ring the chief attendant led huon to the head of the hall, and introduced him to the sultan and his princes as the ambassador of charlemagne. a seat was provided for him near the royal party. the prince of hyrcania, the same whom huon had rescued from the lion, and who was the destined bridegroom of the beautiful clarimunda, sat on the sultan's right hand, and the princess herself on his left. it chanced that huon found himself near the seat of the princess, and hardly were the ceremonies of reception over before he made haste to fulfill the commands of charlemagne by imprinting a kiss upon her rosy lips, and after that a second, not by command, but by good will. the prince of hyrcania cried out, "audacious infidel! take the reward of thy insolence!" and aimed a blow at huon, which, if it had reached him, would have brought his embassy to a speedy termination. but the ingrate failed of his aim, and huon punished his blasphemy and ingratitude at once by a blow which severed his head from his body. so suddenly had all this happened that no hand had been raised to arrest it; but now gaudisso cried out, "seize the murderer!" huon was hemmed in on all sides, but his redoubtable sword kept the crowd of courtiers at bay. but he saw new combatants enter, and could not hope to maintain his ground against so many. he recollected his horn, and raising it to his lips, blew a blast almost as loud as that of roland at roncesvalles. it was in vain. oberon heard it; but the sin of which huon had been guilty in bearing, though but for a moment, the character of a believer in the false prophet, had put it out of oberon's power to help him. huon, finding himself deserted, and conscious of the cause, lost his strength and energy, was seized, loaded with chains, and plunged into a dungeon. his life was spared for the time, merely that he might be reserved for a more painful death. the sultan meant that, after being made to feel all the torments of hunger and despair, he should be flayed alive. but an enchanter more ancient and more powerful than oberon himself interested himself for the brave huon. the enchanter was love. the princess clarimunda learned with horror the fate to which the young prince was destined. by the aid of her governante she gained over the keeper of the prison, and went herself to lighten the chains of her beloved. it was her hand that removed his fetters, from her he received supplies of food to sustain a life which he devoted from thenceforth wholly to her. after the most tender explanations the princess departed, promising to repeat her visit on the morrow. the next day she came according to promise, and again brought supplies of food. these visits were continued during a whole month. huon was too good a son of the church to forget that the amiable princess was a saracen, and he availed himself of these interviews to instruct her in the true faith. how easy it is to believe the truth when uttered by the lips of those we love! clarimunda ere long professed her entire belief in the christian doctrines, and desired to be baptized. meanwhile the sultan had repeatedly inquired of the jailer how his prisoner bore the pains of famine, and learned to his surprise that he was not yet much reduced thereby. on his repeating the inquiry, after a short interval, the keeper replied that the prisoner had died suddenly, and had been buried in the cavern. the sultan could only regret that he had not sooner ordered the execution of the sentence. while these things were going on the faithful sherasmin, who had not accompanied huon in his last adventure, but had learned by common rumor the result of it, came to the court in hopes of doing something for the rescue of his master. he presented himself to the sultan as solario, his nephew. guadisso received him with kindness, and all the courtiers loaded him with attentions. he soon found means to inform himself how the princess regarded the brave but unfortunate huon, and having made himself known to her, confidence was soon established between them. clarimunda readily consented to assist in the escape of huon, and to quit with him her father's court to repair to that of charlemagne. their united efforts had nearly perfected their arrangement, a vessel was secretly prepared, and all things in forwardness for the flight, when an unlooked-for obstacle presented itself. huon himself positively refused to go leaving the orders of charlemagne unexecuted. sherasmin was in despair. bitterly he complained of the fickleness and cruelty of oberon in withdrawing his aid at the very crisis when it was most necessary. earnestly he urged every argument to satisfy the prince that he had done enough for honor, and could not be held bound to achieve impossibilities. but all was of no avail, and he knew not which way to turn, when one of those events occurred which are so frequent under turkish despotisms. a courier arrived at the court of the sultan, bearing the ring of his sovereign, the mighty agrapard, caliph of arabia, and bringing the bow-string for the neck of gaudisso. no reason was assigned; none but the pleasure of the caliph is ever required in such cases; but it was suspected that the bearer of the bow-string had persuaded the caliph that gaudisso, whose rapacity was well known, had accumulated immense treasures, which he had not duly shared with his sovereign, and thus had obtained an order to supersede him in his emirship. the body of gaudisso would have been cast out a prey to dogs and vultures, had not sherasmin, under the character of nephew of the deceased, been permitted to receive it, and give it decent burial, which he did, but not till he had taken possession of the beard and grinders, agreeably to the orders of charlemagne. no obstacle now stood in the way of the lovers and their faithful follower in returning to france. they sailed, taking rome in their way, where the holy father himself blessed the union of his nephew, duke huon of bordeaux, with the princess clarimunda. soon afterward they arrived in france, where huon laid his trophies at the feet of charlemagne, and, being restored to the favor of the emperor, hastened to present himself and his bride to the duchess, his mother, and to the faithful liegemen of his province of guienne and his city of bordeaux, where the pair were received with transports of joy. ogier, the dane ogier, the dane, was the son of geoffrey, who wrested denmark from the pagans, and reigned the first christian king of that country. when ogier was born, and before he was baptized, six ladies of ravishing beauty appeared all at once in the chamber of the infant. they encircled him, and she who appeared the eldest took him in her arms, kissed him, and laid her hand upon his heart. "i give you," said she, "to be the bravest warrior of your times." she delivered the infant to her sister, who said, "i give you abundant opportunities to display your valor." "sister," said the third lady, "you have given him a dangerous boon; i give him that he shall never be vanquished." the fourth sister added, as she laid her hand upon his eyes and his mouth, "i give you the gift of pleasing." the fifth said, "lest all these gifts serve only to betray, i give you sensibility to return the love you inspire." then spoke morgana, the youngest and handsomest of the group. "charming creature, i claim you for my own; and i give you not to die till you shall have come to pay me a visit in my isle of avalon." then she kissed the child and departed with her sisters. after this the king had the child carried to the font and baptized with the name of ogier. in his education nothing was neglected to elevate him to the standard of a perfect knight, and render him accomplished in all the arts necessary to make him a hero. he had hardly reached the age of sixteen years when charlemagne, whose power was established over all the sovereigns of his time, recollected that geoffroy, ogier's father, had omitted to render the homage due to him as emperor, and sovereign lord of denmark, one of the grand fiefs of the empire. he accordingly sent an embassy to demand of the king of denmark this homage, and on receiving a refusal, couched in haughty terms, sent an army to enforce the demand. geoffroy, after an unsuccessful resistance, was forced to comply, and as a pledge of his sincerity delivered ogier, his eldest son, a hostage to charles, to be brought up at his court. he was placed in charge of the duke namo of bavaria, the friend of his father, who treated him like his own son. ogier grew up more and more handsome and amiable every day. he surpassed in form, strength, and address all the noble youths his companions; he failed not to be present at all tourneys; he was attentive to the elder knights, and burned with impatience to imitate them. yet his heart rose sometimes in secret against his condition as a hostage, and as one apparently forgotten by his father. the king of denmark, in fact, was at this time occupied with new loves. ogier's mother having died, he had married a second wife, and had a son named guyon. the new queen had absolute power over her husband, and fearing that, if he should see ogier again, he would give him the preference over guyon, she had adroitly persuaded him to delay rendering his homage to charlemagne, till now four years had passed away since the last renewal of that ceremony. charlemagne, irritated at this delinquency, drew closer the bonds of ogier's captivity until he should receive a response from the king of denmark to a fresh summons which he caused to be sent to him. the answer of geoffroy was insulting and defiant, and the rage of charlemagne was roused in the highest degree. he was at first disposed to wreak his vengeance upon ogier, his hostage; but at the entreaties of duke namo, who felt towards his pupil like a father, consented to spare his life, if ogier would swear fidelity to him as his liege-lord, and promise not to quit his court without his permission. ogier accepted these terms, and was allowed to retain all the freedom he had before enjoyed. the emperor would have immediately taken arms to reduce his disobedient vassal, if he had not been called off in another direction by a message from pope leo, imploring his assistance. the saracens had landed in the neighborhood of rome, occupied mount janiculum, and prepared to pass the tiber and carry fire and sword to the capital of the christian world. charlemagne hesitated not to yield to the entreaties of the pope. he speedily assembled an army, crossed the alps, traversed italy, and arrived at spoleto, a strong place to which the pope had retired. leo, at the head of his cardinals, advanced to meet him, and rendered him homage, as to the son of pepin, the illustrious protector of the holy see, coming, as his father had done, to defend it in the hour of need. charlemagne stopped but two days at spoleto, and learning that the infidels, having rendered themselves masters of rome, were besieging the capitol, which could not long hold out against them, marched promptly to attack them. the advanced posts of the army were commanded by duke namo, on whom ogier waited as his squire. he did not yet bear arms, not having received the order of knighthood. the oriflamme, the royal standard, was borne by a knight named alory, who showed himself unworthy of the honor. duke namo, seeing a strong body of the infidels advancing to attack him, gave the word to charge them. ogier remained in the rear, with the other youths, grieving much that he was not permitted to fight. very soon he saw alory lower the oriflamme, and turn his horse in flight. ogier pointed him out to the young men, and seizing a club, rushed upon alory and struck him from his horse. then, with his companions, he disarmed him, clothed himself in his armor, raised the oriflamme, and mounting the horse of the unworthy knight, flew to the front rank, where he joined duke namo, drove back the infidels, and carried the oriflamme quite through their broken ranks. the duke, thinking it was alory, whom he had not held in high esteem, was astonished at his strength and valor. ogier's young companions imitated him, supplying themselves with armor from the bodies of the slain; they followed ogier and carried death into the ranks of the saracens, who fell back in confusion upon their main body. duke namo now ordered a retreat, and ogier obeyed with reluctance, when they perceived charlemagne advancing to their assistance. the combat now became general, and was more terrible than ever. charlemagne had overthrown corsuble, the commander of the saracens, and had drawn his famous sword, joyeuse, to cut off his head, when two saracen knights set upon him at once, one of whom slew his horse, and the other overthrew the emperor on the sand. perceiving by the eagle on his casque who he was, they dismounted in haste to give him his deathblow. never was the life of the emperor in such peril. but ogier, who saw him fall, flew to his rescue. though embarrassed with the oriflamme, he pushed his horse against one of the saracens and knocked him down; and with his sword dealt the other so vigorous a blow that he fell stunned to the earth. then helping the emperor to rise, he remounted him on the horse of one of the fallen knights. "brave and generous alory!" charles exclaimed, "i owe to you my honor and my life!" ogier made no answer; but, leaving charlemagne surrounded by a great many of the knights who had flown to his succor, he plunged into the thickest ranks of the enemy, and carried the oriflamme, followed by a gallant train of youthful warriors, till the standard of mahomet turned in retreat, and the infidels sought safety in their intrenchments. then the good archbishop turpin laid aside his helmet and his bloody sword (for he always felt that he was clearly in the line of his duty while slaying infidels), took his mitre and his crosier, and intoned te deum. at this moment ogier, covered with blood and dust, came to lay the oriflamme at the feet of the emperor. he was followed by a train of warriors of short stature, who walked ill at ease loaded with armor too heavy for them. ogier knelt at the feet of charlemagne, who embraced him, calling him alory, while turpin from the height of the altar, blessed him with all his might. then young orlando, son of the count milone, and nephew of charlemagne, no longer able to endure this misapprehension, threw down his helmet, and ran to unlace ogier's, while the other young men laid aside theirs. our author says he cannot express the surprise, the admiration, and the tenderness of the emperor and his peers. charles folded ogier in his arms, and the happy fathers of those brave youths embraced them with tears of joy. the good duke namo stepped forward, and charlemagne yielded ogier to his embrace. "how much do i owe you," he said, "good and wise friend, for having restrained my anger! my dear ogier! i owe you my life! my sword leaps to touch your shoulder, yours and those of your brave young friends." at these words he drew that famous sword, joyeuse, and while ogier and the rest knelt before him, gave them the accolade conferring on them the order of knighthood. the young orlando and his cousin oliver could not refrain, even in the presence of the emperor, from falling upon ogier's neck, and pledging with him that brotherhood in arms, so dear and so sacred to the knights of old times; but charlot, the emperor's son, at the sight of the glory with which ogier had covered himself, conceived the blackest jealousy and hate. the rest of the day and the next were spent in the rejoicings of the army. turpin in a solemn service implored the favor of heaven upon the youthful knights, and blessed the white armor which was prepared for them. duke namo presented them with golden spurs, charles himself girded on their swords. but what was his astonishment when he examined that intended for ogier! the loving fairy, morgana, had had the art to change it, and to substitute one of her own procuring, and when charles drew it out of the scabbard, these words appeared written on the steel: "my name is cortana, of the same steel and temper as joyeuse and durindana." charles saw that a superior power watched over the destinies of ogier; he vowed to love him as a father would, and ogier promised him the devotion of a son. happy had it been for both if they had always continued mindful of their promises. the saracen army had hardly recovered from its dismay when carahue, king of mauritania, who was one of the knights overthrown by ogier at the time of the rescue of charlemagne, determined to challenge him to single combat. with that view he assumed the dress of a herald, resolved to carry his own message. the french knights admired his air, and said to one another that he seemed more fit to be a knight than a bearer of messages. carahue began by passing the warmest eulogium upon the knight who bore the oriflamme on the day of the battle, and concluded by saying that carahue, king of mauritania, respected that knight so much that he challenged him to the combat. ogier had risen to reply, when he was interrupted by charlot, who said that the gage of the king of mauritania could not fitly be received by a vassal, living in captivity; by which he meant ogier, who was at that time serving as hostage for his father. fire flashed from the eyes of ogier, but the presence of the emperor restrained his speech, and he was calmed by the kind looks of charlemagne, who said, with an angry voice, "silence, charlot! by the life of bertha, my queen, he who has saved my life is as dear to me as yourself. ogier," he continued, "you are no longer a hostage. herald! report my answer to your master, that never does knight of my court refuse a challenge on equal terms. ogier, the dane, accepts of his, and i myself am his security." carahue, profoundly bowing, replied, "my lord, i was sure that the sentiments of so great a sovereign as yourself would be worthy of your high and brilliant fame; i shall report your answer to my master, who i know admires you, and unwillingly takes arms against you." then, turning to charlot, whom he did not know as the son of the emperor, he continued, "as for you, sir knight, if the desire of battle inflames you, i have it in charge from sadon, cousin of the king of mauritania, to give the like defiance to any french knights who will grant him the honor of the combat." charlot, inflamed with rage and vexation at the public reproof which he had just received, hesitated not to deliver his gage. carahue received it with ogier's, and it was agreed that the combat should be on the next day in a meadow environed by woods and equally distant from both armies. the perfidious charlot meditated the blackest treason. during the night he collected some knights unworthy of the name, and like himself in their ferocious manners; he made them swear to avenge his injuries, armed them in black armor, and sent them to lie in ambush in the wood, with orders to make a pretended attack upon the whole party, but in fact, to lay heavy hands upon ogier and the two saracens. at the dawn of day sadon and carahue, attended tonly by two pages to carry their spears, took their way to the appointed meadow; and charlot and ogier repaired thither also, but by different paths. ogier advanced with a calm air, saluted courteously the two saracen knights, and joined them in arranging the terms of combat. while this was going on the perfidious charlot remained behind and gave his men the signal to advance. that cowardly troop issued from the wood and encompassed the three knights. all three were equally surprised at the attack, but neither of them suspected the other to have any hand in the treason. seeing the attack made equally upon them all, they united their efforts to resist it, and made the most forward of the assailants bite the dust. cortana fell on no one without inflicting a mortal wound, but the sword of carahue was not of equal temper and broke in his hands. at the same instant his horse was slain, and carahue fell, without a weapon, and entangled with his prostrate horse. ogier, who saw it, ran to his defence, and leaping to the ground covered the prince with his shield, supplied him with the sword of one of the fallen ruffians, and would have him mount his own horse. at that moment charlot, inflamed with rage, pushed his horse upon ogier, knocked him down, and would have run him through with his lance if sadon, who saw the treason, had not sprung upon him and thrust him back. carahue leapt lightly upon the horse which ogier presented him, and had time only to exclaim, "brave ogier, i am no longer your enemy, i pledge to you an eternal friendship," when numerous saracen knights were seen approaching, having discovered the treachery, and charlot with his followers took refuge in the wood. the troop which advanced was commanded by dannemont, the exiled king of denmark, whom geoffroy, ogier's father, had driven from his throne and compelled to take refuge with the saracens. learning who ogier was, he instantly declared him his prisoner, in spite of the urgent remonstrances and even threats of carahue and sadon, and carried him under a strong guard to the saracen camp. here he was at first subjected to the most rigorous captivity, but carahue and sadon insisted so vehemently on his release, threatening to turn their arms against their own party if it was not granted, while dannemont as eagerly opposed the measure, that corsuble, the saracen commander, consented to a middle course, and allowed ogier the freedom of his camp, upon his promise not to leave it without permission. carahue was not satisfied with this partial concession. he left the city next morning, proceeded to the camp of charlemagne, and demanded to be led to the emperor. when he reached his presence he dismounted from his horse, took off his helmet, drew his sword, and holding it by the blade presented it to charlemagne as he knelt before him. "illustrious prince," he said, "behold before you the herald who brought the challenge to your knights from the king of mauritania. the cowardly old king dannemont has made the brave ogier prisoner, and has prevailed on our general to refuse to give him up. i come to make amends for this ungenerous conduct by yielding myself, carahue, king of mauritania, your prisoner." charlemagne, with all his peers, admired the magnanimity of carahue; he raised him, embraced him, and restored to him his sword. "prince," said he, "your presence and the bright example you afford my knights consoles me for the loss of ogier. would to god you might receive our holy faith, and be wholly united with us." all the lords of the court, led by duke namo, paid their respects to the king of mauritania. charlot only failed to appear, fearing to be recognized as a traitor; but the heart of carahue was too noble to pierce that of charlemagne by telling him the treachery of his son. meanwhile the saracen army was rent by discord. the troops of carahue clamored against the commander-in-chief because their king was left in captivity. they even threatened to desert the cause and turn their arms against their allies. charlemagne pressed the siege vigorously, till at length the saracen leaders found themselves compelled to abandon the city and betake themselves to their ships. a truce was made; ogier was exchanged for carahue, and the two friends embraced one another with vows of perpetual brotherhood. the pope was reestablished in his dominions, and italy being tranquil, charlemagne returned with his peers and their followers to france. ogier, the dane (continued) charlemagne had not forgotten the offence of geoffroy, the king of denmark, in withholding homage, and now prepared to enforce submission. but at this crisis he was waited upon by an embassy from geoffroy, acknowledging his fault, and craving assistance against an army of invaders who had attacked his states with a force which he was unable to repel. the soul of charlemagne was too great to be implacable, and he took this opportunity to test that of ogier, who had felt acutely the unkindness of his father, in leaving him, without regard or notice, fifteen years in captivity. charles asked ogier whether, in spite of his father's neglect, he was disposed to lead an army to his assistance. he replied, "a son can never be excused from helping his father by any cause short of death." charlemagne placed an army of a thousand knights under the command of ogier, and great numbers more volunteered to march under so distinguished a leader. he flew to the succor of his father, repelled the invaders, and drove them in confusion to their vessels. ogier then hastened to the capital, but as he drew near the city he heard all the bells sounding a knell. he soon learned the cause; it was the obsequies of geoffroy, the king. ogier felt keenly the grief of not having been permitted to embrace his father once more, and to learn his latest commands; but he found that his father had declared him heir to his throne. he hastened to the church where the body lay; he knelt and bathed the lifeless form with his tears. at that moment a celestial light beamed all around, and a voice of an angel said, "ogier, leave thy crown to guyon, thy brother, and bear no other title than that of 'the dane.' thy destiny is glorious, and other kingdoms are reserved for thee." ogier obeyed the divine behest. he saluted his stepmother respectfully, and embracing his brother, told him that he was content with his lot in being reckoned among the paladins of charlemagne, and resigned all claims to the crown of denmark. ogier returned covered with glory to the court of charlemagne, and the emperor, touched with this proof of his attachment, loaded him with caresses, and treated him almost as an equal. we pass in silence the adventures of ogier for several ensuing years, in which the fairy-gifts of his infancy showed their force in making him successful in all enterprises, both of love and war. he married the charming belicene, and became the father of young baldwin, a youth who seemed to inherit in full measure the strength and courage of his father and the beauty of his mother. when the lad was old enough to be separated from his mother, ogier took him to court and presented him to charlemagne, who embraced him and took him into his service. it seemed to duke namo, and all the elder knights, as if they saw in him ogier himself, as he was when a youth; and this resemblance won for the lad their kind regards. even charlot at first seemed to be fond of him, though after a while the resemblance to ogier which he noticed had the effect to excite his hatred. baldwin was attentive to charlot, and lost no occasion to be serviceable. the prince loved to play chess, and baldwin, who played well, often made a party with him. one day charlot was nettled at losing two pieces in succession; he thought he could, by taking a piece from baldwin, get some amends for his loss; but baldwin, seeing him fall into a trap which he had set for him, could not help a slight laugh, as he said, "check-mate." chariot rose in a fury, seized the rich and heavy chess-board, and dashed it with all his strength on the head of baldwin, who fell, and died where he fell. frightened at his own crime, and fearing the vengeance of the terrible ogier, charlot concealed himself in the interior of the palace. a young companion of baldwin hastened and informed ogier of the event. he ran to the chamber, and beheld the body of his child bathed in blood, and it could not be concealed from him that charlot gave the blow. transported with rage, ogier sought charlot through the palace, and charlot, feeling safe nowhere else, took refuge in the hall of charlemagne, where he seated himself at table with duke namo and salomon, duke of brittany. ogier, with sword drawn, followed him to the very table of the emperor. when a cupbearer attempted to bar his way he struck the cup from his hand and dashed the contents in the emperor's face. charles rose in a passion, seized a knife, and would have plunged it into his breast, had not salomon and another baron thrown themselves between, while namo, who had retained his ancient influence over ogier, drew him out of the room. foreseeing the consequence of this violence, pitying ogier, and in his heart excusing him, namo hurried him away before the guards of the palace could arrest him, made him mount his horse, and leave paris. charlemagne called together his peers, and made them take an oath to do all in their power to arrest ogier, and bring him to condign punishment. ogier on his part sent messages to the emperor, offering to give himself up on condition that charlot should be punished for his atrocious crime. the emperor would listen to no conditions, and went in pursuit of ogier at the head of a large body of soldiers. ogier, on the other hand, was warmly supported by many knights, who pledged themselves in his defence. the contest raged long, with no decisive results. ogier more than once had the emperor in his power, but declined to avail himself of his advantage, and released him without conditions. he even implored pardon for himself, but demanded at the same time the punishment of charlot. but charlemagne was too blindly fond of his unworthy son to subject him to punishment for the sake of conciliating one who had been so deeply injured. at length, distressed at the blood which his friends had lost in his cause, ogier dismissed his little army, and slipping away from those who wished to attend him, took his course to rejoin the duke guyon, his brother. on his way, having reached the forest of ardennes, weary with long travel, the freshness of a retired valley tempted him to lie down to take some repose. he unsaddled beiffror, relieved himself of his helmet, lay down on the turf, rested his head on his shield, and slept. it so happened that turpin, who occasionally recalled to mind that he was archbishop of rheins, was at that time in the vicinity, making a pastoral visit to the churches under his jurisdiction. but his dignity of peer of france, and his martial spirit, which caused him to be reckoned among the "preux chevaliers" of his time, forbade him to travel without as large a retinue of knights as he had of clergymen. one of these was thirsty, and knowing the fountain on the borders of which ogier was reposing, he rode to it, and was struck by the sight of a knight stretched on the ground. he hastened back, and let the archbishop know, who approached the fountain, and recognized ogier. the first impulse of the good and generous turpin was to save his friend, for whom he felt the warmest attachment; but his archdeacons and knights, who also recognized ogier, reminded the archbishop of the oath which the emperor had exacted of them all. turpin could not be false to his oath; but it was not without a groan that he permitted his followers to bind the sleeping knight. the archbishop's attendants secured the horse and arms of ogier, and conducted their prisoner to the emperor at soissons. the emperor had become so much embittered by ogier's obstinate resistance, added to his original fault, that he was disposed to order him to instant death. but turpin, seconded by the good dukes namo and salomon, prayed so hard for him that charlemagne consented to remit a violent death, but sentenced him to close imprisonment, under the charge of the archbishop, strictly limiting his food to one quarter of a loaf of bread per day, with one piece of meat, and a quarter of a cup of wine. in this way he hoped to quickly put an end to his life without bringing on himself the hostility of the king of denmark, and other powerful friends of ogier. he exacted a new oath of turpin to obey his order strictly. the good archbishop loved ogier too well not to cast about for some means of saving his life, which he foresaw he would soon lose if subjected to such scanty fare, for ogier was seven feet tall, and had an appetite in proportion. turpin remembered, moreover, that ogier was a true son of the church, always zealous to propagate the faith and subdue unbelievers; so he felt justified in practising on this occasion what in later times has been entitled "mental reservation," without swerving from the letter of the oath which he had taken. this is the method he hit upon. every morning he had his prisoner supplied with a quarter of a loaf of bread, made of two bushels of flour, to this he added a quarter of a sheep or a fat calf, and he had a cup made which held forty pints of wine, and allowed ogier a quarter of it daily. ogier's imprisonment lasted long; charlemagne was astonished to hear, from time to time, that he still held out; and when he inquired more particularly of turpin, the good archbishop, relying on his own understanding of the words, did not hesitate to affirm positively that he allowed his prisoner no more than the permitted ration. we forgot to say that, when ogier was led prisoner to soissons, the abbot of saint faron, observing the fine horse beiffror, and not having at the time any other favor to ask of charlemagne, begged the emperor to give him the horse, and had him taken to his abbey. he was impatient to try his new acquisition, and when he had arrived in his litter at the foot of the mountain where the horse had been brought to meet him mounted him and rode onward. the horse, accustomed to bear the enormous weight of ogier in his armor, when he perceived nothing on his back but the light weight of the abbot, whose long robes fluttered against his sides, ran away, making prodigious leaps over the steep acclivities of the mountain till he reached the convent of jouaire, where, in sight of the abbess and her nuns, he threw the abbot, already half dead with fright, to the ground. the abbot, bruised and mortified, revenged himself on poor beiffror, whom he condemned, in his wrath, to be given to the workmen to drag stones for a chapel that he was building near the abbey. thus, ill-fed, hard-worked, and often beaten, the noble horse beiffror passed the time while his master's imprisonment lasted. that imprisonment would have been as long as his life if it had not been for some important events which forced the emperor to set ogier at liberty. the emperor learned at the same time that carahue, king of mauritania, was assembling an army to come and demand the liberation of ogier; that guyon, king of denmark, was prepared to second the enterprise with all his forces; and, worse than all, that the saracens, under bruhier, sultan of arabia, had landed in gascony, taken bordeaux, and were marching with all speed for paris. charlemagne now felt how necessary the aid of ogier was to him. but, in spite of the representations of turpin, namo, and salomon, he could not bring himself to consent to surrender charlot to such punishment as ogier should see fit to impose. besides, he believed that ogier was without strength and vigor, weakened by imprisonment and long abstinence. at this crisis he received a message from bruhier, proposing to put the issue upon the result of a combat between himself and the emperor or his champion; promising, if defeated, to withdraw his army. charlemagne would willingly have accepted the challenge, but his counsellors all opposed it. the herald was therefore told that the emperor would take time to consider his proposition, and give his answer the next day. it was during this interval that the three dukes succeeded in prevailing upon charlemagne to pardon ogier, and to send for him to combat the puissant enemy who now defied him; but it was no easy task to persuade ogier. the idea of his long imprisonment and the recollection of his son, bleeding and dying in his arms by the blow of the ferocious charlot, made him long resist the urgency of his friends. though glory called him to encounter bruhier, and the safety of christendom demanded the destruction of this proud enemy of the faith, ogier only yielded at last on condition that charlot should be delivered into his hands to be dealt with as he should see fit. the terms were hard, but the danger was pressing, and charlemagne, with a returning sense of justice, and a strong confidence in the generous though passionate soul of ogier, at last consented to them. ogier was led into the presence of charlemagne by the three peers. the emperor, faithful to his word, had caused charlot to be brought into the hall where the high barons were assembled, his hands tied, and his head uncovered. when the emperor saw ogier approach he took charlot by the arm, led him towards ogier, and said these words: "i surrender the criminal; do with him as you think fit." ogier, without replying, seized charlot by the hair, forced him on his knees, and lifted with the other hand his irresistible sword. charlemagne, who expected to see the head of his son rolling at his feet, shut his eyes and uttered a cry of horror. ogier had done enough. the next moment he raised charlot, cut his bonds, kissed him on the mouth, and hastened to throw himself at the feet of the emperor. nothing can exceed the surprise and joy of charlemagne at seeing his son unharmed and ogier kneeling at his feet. he folded him in his arms, bathed him with tears, and exclaimed to his barons, "i feel at this moment that ogier is greater than i." as for charlot, his base soul felt nothing but the joy of having escaped death; he remained such as he had been, and it was not till some years afterwards he received the punishment he deserved, from the hands of huon of bordeaux, as we have seen in a former chapter. ogier, the dane (continued) when charlemagne had somewhat recovered his composure he was surprised to observe that ogier appeared in good case, and had a healthy color in his cheeks. he turned to the archbishop, who could not help blushing as he met his eye. "by the head of bertha, my queen," said charlemagne, "ogier has had good quarters in your castle, my lord archbishop; but so much the more am i indebted to you." all the barons laughed and jested with turpin, who only said, "laugh as much as you please, my lords; but for my part i am not sorry to see the arm in full vigor that is to avenge us on the proud saracen." charlemagne immediately despatched his herald, accepting the challenge, and appointing the next day but one for the encounter. the proud and crafty bruhier laughed scornfully when he heard the reply accepting his challenge, for he had a reliance on certain resources besides his natural strength and skill. however, he swore by mahomet to observe the conditions as proposed and agreed upon. ogier now demanded his armor, and it was brought to him in excellent condition, for the good turpin had kept it faithfully; but it was not easy to provide a horse for the occasion. charlemagne had the best horses of his stables brought out, except blanchard, his own charger; but all in vain, the weight of ogier bent their backs to the ground. in this embarrassment the archbishop remembered that the emperor had given beiffror to the abbot of st. faron, and sent off a courier in haste to re-demand him. monks are hard masters, and the one who directed the laborers at the abbey had but too faithfully obeyed the orders of the abbot. poor beiffror was brought back, lean, spiritless, and chafed with the harness of the vile cart that he had had to draw so long. he carried his head down, and trod heavily before charlemagne; but when he heard the voice of ogier he raised his head, he neighed, his eyes flashed, his former ardor showed itself by the force with which he pawed the ground. ogier caressed him, and the good steed seemed to return his caresses; ogier mounted him, and beiffror, proud of carrying his master again, leapt and curvetted with all his youthful vigor. nothing being now wanted, charlemagne, at the head of his army, marched forth from the city of paris, and occupied the hill of montmartre, whence the view extended over the plain of st. denis, where the battle was to be fought. when the appointed day came the dukes namo and salomon, as seconds of ogier, accompanied him to the place marked out for the lists, and bruhier, with two distinguished emirs, presented himself on the other side. bruhier was in high spirits, and jested with his friends, as he advanced, upon the appearance of beiffror. "is that the horse they presume to match with marchevallee, the best steed that ever fed in the vales of mount atlas?" but now the combatants, having met and saluted each other, ride apart to come together in full career. beiffror flew over the plain, and met the adversary more than half-way. the lances of the two combatants were shivered at the shock, and bruhier was astonished to see almost at the same instant the sword of ogier gleaming above his head. he parried it with his buckler, and gave ogier a blow on his helmet, who returned it with another, better aimed or better seconded by the temper of his blade, for it cut away part of bruhier's helmet, and with it his ear and part of his cheek. ogier, seeing the blood, did not immediately repeat his blow, and bruhier seized the moment to gallop off at one side. as he rode he took a vase of gold which hung at his saddle-bow, and bathed with its contents the wounded part. the blood instantly ceased to flow, the ear and the flesh were restored quite whole, and the dane was astonished to see his antagonist return to the ground as sound as ever. bruhier laughed at his amazement. "know," said he, "that i possess the precious balm that joseph of arimathea used upon the body of the crucified one, whom you worship. if i should lose an arm i could restore it with a few drops of this. it is useless for you to contend with me. yield yourself, and, as you appear to be a strong fellow, i will make you first oarsman in one of my galleys." ogier, though boiling with rage, forgot not to implore the assistance of heaven. "o lord!" he exclaimed, "suffer not the enemy of thy name to profit by the powerful help of that which owes all its virtue to thy divine blood." at these words he attacked bruhier again with more vigor than ever; both struck terrible blows, and made grievous wounds; but the blood flowed from those of ogier, while bruhier stanched his by the application of his balm. ogier, desperate at the unequal contest, grasped cortana with both hands, and struck his enemy such a blow that it cleft his buckler, and cut off his arm with it; but bruhier at the same time launched one at ogier, which, missing him, struck the head of beiffror, and the good horse fell, and drew down his master in his fall. bruhier had time to leap to the ground, to pick up his arm and apply his balsam; then, before ogier had recovered his footing, he rushed forward with sword uplifted to complete his destruction. charlemagne, from the height of montmartre, seeing the brave ogier in this situation, groaned, and was ready to murmur against providence; but the good turpin, raising his arms, with a faith like that of moses, drew down upon the christian warrior the favor of heaven. ogier, promptly disengaging himself, pressed bruhier with so much impetuosity that he drove him to a distance from his horse, to whose saddle-bow the precious balm was suspended; and very soon charlemagne saw ogier, now completely in the advantage, bring his enemy to his knees, tear off his helmet, and, with a sweep of his sword, strike his head from his body. after the victory, ogier seized marchevallee, leaped upon his back, and became possessed of the precious flask, a few drops from which closed his wounds and restored his strength. the french knights who had been bruhier's captives, now released, pressed round ogier to thank him for their deliverance. charlemagne and his nobles, as soon as their attention was relieved from the single combat, perceived from their elevated position an unusual agitation in the enemy's camp. they attributed it at first to the death of their general, but soon the noise of arms, the cries of combatants, and new standards which advanced, disclosed to them the fact that bruhier's army was attacked by a new enemy. the emperor was right; it was the brave carahue of mauritania, who, with an army, had arrived in france, resolved to attempt the liberation of ogier, his brother in arms. learning on his arrival the changed aspect of affairs, he hesitated not to render a signal service to the emperor, by attacking the army of bruhier in the midst of the consternation occasioned by the loss of its commander. ogier recognized the standard of his friend, and leaping upon marchevallee, flew to aid his attack. charlemagne followed with his army; and the saracen host, after an obstinate conflict, was forced to surrender unconditionally. the interview of ogier and carahue was such as might be anticipated of two such attached friends and accomplished knights. charlemagne went to meet them, embraced them, and putting the king of mauritania on his right and ogier on his left, returned with triumph to paris. there the empress bertha and the ladies of her court crowned them with laurels, and the sage and gallant eginhard, chamberlain and secretary of the emperor, wrote all these great events in his history. a few days after guyon, king of denmark, arrived in france with a chosen band of knights, and sent an ambassador to charlemagne, to say that he came, not as an enemy, but to render homage to him as the best knight of the time and the head of the christian world. charlemagne gave the ambassador a cordial reception, and mounting his horse, rode forward to meet the king of denmark. these great princes, being assembled at the court of charles, held council together, and the ancient and sage barons were called to join it. it was decided that the united danish and mauritanian armies should cross the sea and carry the war to the country of the saracens, and that a thousand french knights should range themselves under the banner of ogier, the dane, who, though not a king, should have equal rank with the two others. we have not space to record all the illustrious actions performed by ogier and his allies in this war. suffice it to say, they subdued the saracens of ptolemais and judaea, and, erecting those regions into a kingdom, placed the crown upon the head of ogier. guyon and carahue then left him, to return to their respective dominions. ogier adopted walter, the son of guyon of denmark, to be his successor in his kingdom. he superintended his education, and saw the young prince grow up worthy of his cares. but ogier, in spite of all the honors of his rank, often regretted the court of charlemagne, the duke namo, and salomon of brittany, for whom he had the respect and attachment of a son. at last, finding walter old enough to sustain the weight of government, ogier caused a vessel to be prepared secretly, and, attended only by one squire, left his palace by night, and embarked to return to france. the vessel, driven by a fair wind, cut the sea with the swiftness of a bird; but on a sudden it deviated from its course, no longer obeyed the helm, and sped fast towards a black promontory which stretched into the sea. this was a mountain of loadstone, and, its attractive power increasing as the distance diminished, the vessel at last flew with the swiftness of an arrow towards it, and was dashed to pieces on its rocky base. ogier alone saved himself, and reached the shore on a fragment of the wreck. ogier advanced into the country, looking for some marks of inhabitancy, but found none. on a sudden he encountered two monstrous animals, covered with glittering scales, accompanied by a horse breathing fire. ogier drew his sword and prepared to defend himself; but the monsters, terrific as they appeared, made no attempt to assail him, and the horse, papillon, knelt down, and appeared to court ogier to mount upon his back. ogier hesitated not to see the adventure through; he mounted papillon, who ran with speed, and soon cleared the rocks and precipices which hemmed in and concealed a beautiful landscape. he continued his course till he reached a magnificent palace, and, without allowing ogier time to admire it, crossed a grand court-yard adorned with colonnades, and entered a garden, where, making his way through alleys of myrtle, he checked his course, and knelt down on the enamelled turf of a fountain. ogier dismounted and took some steps along the margin of the stream, but was soon stopped by meeting a young beauty, such as they paint the graces, and almost as lightly attired as they. at the same moment, to his amazement, his armor fell off of its own accord. the young beauty advanced with a tender air, and placed upon his head a crown of flowers. at that instant the danish hero lost his memory; his combats, his glory, charlemagne and his court, all vanished from his mind; he saw only morgana, he desired nothing but to sigh forever at her feet. we abridge the narrative of all the delights which ogier enjoyed for more than a hundred years. time flew by, leaving no impression of its flight. morgana's youthful charms did not decay, and ogier had none of those warnings of increasing years which less favored mortals never fail to receive. there is no knowing how long this blissful state might have lasted, if it had not been for an accident, by which morgana one day, in a sportive moment, snatched the crown from his head. that moment ogier regained his memory, and lost his contentment. the recollection of charlemagne, and of his own relatives and friends, saddened the hours which he passed with morgana. the fairy saw with grief the changed looks of her lover. at last she drew from him the acknowledgment that he wished to go, at least for a time, to revisit charles's court. she consented with reluctance, and with her own hands helped to reinvest him with his armor. papillon was led forth, ogier mounted him, and, taking a tender adieu of the tearful morgana, crossed at rapid speed the rocky belt which separated morgana's palace from the borders of the sea. the sea-goblins which had received him at his coming awaited him on the shore. one of them took ogier on his back, and the other placing himself under papillon, they spread their broad fins, and in a short time traversed the wide space that separates the isle of avalon from france. they landed ogier on the coast of languedoc, and then plunged into the sea and disappeared. ogier remounted on papillon, who carried him across the kingdom almost as fast as he had passed the sea. he arrived under the walls of paris, which he would scarcely have recognized if the high towers of st. genevieve had not caught his eye. he went straight to the palace of charlemagne, which seemed to him to have been entirely rebuilt. his surprise was extreme, and increased still more on finding that he understood with difficulty the language of the guards and attendants in replying to his questions; and seeing them smile as they tried to explain to one another the language in which he addressed them. presently the attention of some of the barons who were going to court was attracted to the scene, and ogier, who recognized the badges of their rank, addressed them, and inquired if the dukes namo and salomon were still residing at the emperor's court. at this question the barons looked at one another in amazement; and one of the eldest said to the rest, "how much this knight resembles the portrait of my grand-uncle, ogier the dane." "ah! my dear nephew, i am ogier the dane," said he; and he remembered that morgana had told him that he was little aware of the flight of time during his abode with her. the barons, more astonished than ever, concluded to conduct him to the monarch who then reigned, the great hugh capet. the brave ogier entered the palace without hesitation; but when, on reaching the royal hall, the barons directed him to make his obeisance to the king of france, he was astonished to see a man of short stature and large head, whose air, nevertheless, was noble and martial, seated upon the throne on which he had so often seen charlemagne, the tallest and handsomest sovereign of his time. ogier recounted his adventures with simplicity and affectedness. hugh capet was slow to believe him; but ogier recalled so many proofs and circumstances, that at last he was forced to recognize the aged warrior to be the famous ogier the dane. the king informed ogier of the events which had taken place during his long absence; that the line of charlemagne was extinct; that a new dynasty had commenced; that the old enemies of the kingdom, the saracens, were still troublesome; and that at that very time an army of those miscreants was besieging the city of chartres, to which he was about to repair in a few days to its relief. ogier, always inflamed with the love of glory, offered the service of his arm, which the illustrious monarch accepted graciously, and conducted him to the queen. the astonishment of ogier was redoubled when he saw the new ornaments and head-dresses of the ladies; still, the beautiful hair which they built up on their foreheads, and the feathers interwoven, which waved with so much grace, gave them a noble air that delighted him. his admiration increased when, instead of the old empress bertha, he saw a young queen who combined a majestic mien with the graces of her time of life, and manners candid and charming, suited to attach all hearts. ogier saluted the youthful queen with a respect so profound that many of the courtiers took him for a foreigner, or at least for some nobleman brought up at a distance from paris, who retained the manners of what they called the old court. when the queen was informed by her husband that it was the celebrated ogier the dane whom he presented to her, whose memorable exploits she had often read in the chronicles of antiquity, her surprise was extreme, which was increased when she remarked the dignity of his address, the animation and even the youthfulness of his countenance. this queen had too much intelligence to believe hastily; proof alone could compel her assent; and she asked him many questions about the old court of charlemagne, and received such instructive and appropriate answers as removed every doubt. it is to the corrections which ogier was at that time enabled to make to the popular narratives of his exploits that we are indebted for the perfect accuracy and trustworthiness of all the details of our own history. king hugh capet, having received that same evening couriers from the inhabitants of chartres, informing him that they were hard pressed by the besiegers, resolved to hasten with ogier to their relief. ogier terminated this affair as expeditiously as he had so often done others. the saracens having dared to offer battle, he bore the oriflamme through the thickest of their ranks; papillon, breathing fire from his nostrils, threw them into disorder, and cortana, wielded by his invincible arm, soon finished their overthrow. the king, victorious over the saracens, led back the danish hero to paris, where the deliverer of france received the honors due to his valor. ogier continued some time at the court, detained by the favor of the king and queen; but erelong he had the pain to witness the death of the king. then it was that, impressed with all the perfections which he had discerned in the queen, he could not withhold the tender homage of the offer of his hand. the queen would perhaps have accepted it, she had even called a meeting of her great barons to deliberate on the proposition, when, the day before the meeting was to be held, at the moment when ogier was kneeling at her feet, she perceived a crown of gold which an invisible hand had placed on his brow, and in an instant a cloud enveloped ogier, and he disappeared forever from her sight. it was morgana, the fairy, whose jealousy was awakened at what she beheld, who now resumed her power, and took him away to dwell with her in the island of avalon. there, in company with the great king arthur of britain, he still lives, and when his illustrious friend shall return to resume his ancient reign he will doubtless return with him, and share his triumph. glossary abdalrahman, founder of the independent ommiad (saracenic) power in spain, conquered at tours by charles martel aberfraw, scene of nuptials of branwen and matholch absyrtus, younger brother of medea abydos, a town on the hellespont, nearly opposite to sestos abyla, mount, or columna, a mountain in morocco, near ceuta, now called jebel musa or ape's hill, forming the northwestern extremity of the african coast opposite gibraltar (see pillars of hercules) acestes, son of a trojan woman who was sent by her father to sicily, that she might not be devoured by the monsters which infested the territory of troy acetes, bacchanal captured by pentheus achates, faithful friend and companion of aeneas achelous, river-god of the largest river in greece--his horn of plenty achilles, the hero of the iliad, son of peleus and of the nereid thetis, slain by paris acis, youth loved by galatea and slain by polyphemus acontius, a beautiful youth, who fell in love with cydippe, the daughter of a noble athenian. acrisius, son of abas, king of argos, grandson of lynceus, the great-grandson of danaus. actaeon, a celebrated huntsman, son of aristaeus and autonoe, who, having seen diana bathing, was changed by her to a stag and killed by his own dogs. admeta, daughter of eurystheus, covets hippolyta's girdle. admetus, king of thessaly, saved from death by alcestis adonis, a youth beloved by aphrodite (venus), and proserpine; killed by a boar. adrastus, a king of argos. aeacus, son of zeus (jupiter) and aegina, renowned in all greece for his justice and piety. aeaea, circe's island, visited by ulysses. aeetes, or aeeta, son of helios (the sun) and perseis, and father of medea and absyrtus. aegeus, king of athens. aegina, a rocky island in the middle of the saronic gulf. aegis, shield or breastplate of jupiter and minerva. aegisthus, murderer of agamemnon, slain by orestes. aeneas, trojan hero, son of anchises and aphrodite (venus), and born on mount ida, reputed first settler of rome, aeneid, poem by virgil, relating the wanderings of aeneas from troy to italy, ae'olus, son of hellen and the nymph orseis, represented in homer as the happy ruler of the aeolian islands, to whom zeus had given dominion over the winds, aesculapius, god of the medical art, aeson, father of jason, made young again by medea, aethiopians, inhabitants of the country south of egypt, aethra, mother of theseus by aegeus, aetna, volcano in sicily, agamedes, brother of trophonius, distinguished as an architect, agamemnon, son of plisthenis and grandson of atreus, king of mycenae, although the chief commander of the greeks, is not the hero of the iliad, and in chivalrous spirit altogether inferior to achilles, agave, daughter of cadmus, wife of echion, and mother of pentheus, agenor, father of europa, cadmus, cilix, and phoenix, aglaia, one of the graces, agni, hindu god of fire, agramant, a king in africa, agrican, fabled king of tartary, pursuing angelica, finally killed by orlando, agrivain, one of arthur's knights, ahriman, the evil spirit in the dual system of zoroaster, see ormuzd ajax, son of telamon, king of salamis, and grandson of aeacus, represented in the iliad as second only to achilles in bravery, alba, the river where king arthur fought the romans, alba longa, city in italy founded by son of aeneas, alberich, dwarf guardian of rhine gold treasure of the nibelungs albracca, siege of, alcestis, wife of admetus, offered hersell as sacrifice to spare her husband, but rescued by hercules, alcides (hercules), alcina, enchantress, alcinous, phaeacian king, alcippe, daughter of mars, carried off by halirrhothrus, alcmena, wife of jupiter, and mother of hercules, alcuin, english prelate and scholar, aldrovandus, dwarf guardian of treasure, alecto, one of the furies, alexander the great, king of macedonia, conqueror of greece, egypt, persia, babylonia, and india, alfadur, a name for odin, alfheim, abode of the elves of light, alice, mother of huon and girard, sons of duke sevinus, alphenor, son of niobe, alpheus, river god pursuing arethusa, who escaped by being changed to a fountain, althaea, mother of meleager, whom she slew because he had in a quarrel killed her brothers, thus disgracing "the house of thestius," her father, amalthea, nurse of the infant jupiter in crete, amata, wife of latinus, driven mad by alecto, amaury of hauteville, false hearted knight of charlemagne, amazons, mythical race of warlike women, ambrosia, celestial food used by the gods, ammon, egyptian god of life identified by romans with phases of jupiter, the father of gods, amphiaraus, a great prophet and hero at argos, amphion, a musician, son of jupiter and antiope (see dirce), amphitrite, wife of neptune, amphyrsos, a small river in thessaly, ampyx, assailant of perseus, turned to stone by seeing gorgon's head, amrita, nectar giving immortality, amun, see ammon amymone, one of the fifty daughters of danaus, and mother by poseidon (neptune) of nauplius, the father of palamedes, anaxarete, a maiden of cyprus, who treated her lover iphis with such haughtiness that he hanged himself at her door, anbessa, saracenic governor of spain ( ad), anceus, one of the argonauts, anchises, beloved by aphrodite (venus), by whom he became the father of aeneas, andraemon, husband of dryope, saw her changed into a tree, andret, a cowardly knight, spy upon tristram, andromache, wife of hector andromeda, daughter of king cephas, delivered from monster by perseus aneurin, welsh bard angelica, princess of cathay anemone, short lived wind flower, created by venus from the blood of the slain adonis angerbode, giant prophetess, mother of fenris, hela and the midgard serpent anglesey, a northern british island, refuge of druids fleeing from romans antaeus, giant wrestler of libya, killed by hercules, who, finding him stronger when thrown to the earth, lifted him into the air and strangled him antea, wife of jealous proetus antenor, descendants of, in italy anteros, deity avenging unrequited love, brother of eros (cupid) anthor, a greek antigone, daughter of aedipus, greek ideal of filial and sisterly fidelity antilochus, son of nestor antiope, amazonian queen. see dirce anubis, egyptian god, conductor of the dead to judgment apennines aphrodite see venus, dione, etc. apis, egyptian bull god of memphis apollo, god of music and song apollo belvedere, famous antique statue in vatican at rome apples of the hesperides, wedding gifts to juno, guarded by daughters of atlas and hesperis, stolen by atlas for hercules, aquilo, or boreas, the north wind, aquitaine, ancient province of southwestern france, arachne, a maiden skilled in weaving, changed to a spider by minerva for daring to compete with her, arcadia, a country in the middle of peloponnesus, surrounded on all sides by mountains, arcady, star of, the pole star, arcas, son of jupiter and callisto, archer, constellation of the, areopagus, court of the, at athens, ares, called mars by the romans, the greek god of war, and one of the great olympian gods, arethusa, nymph of diana, changed to a fountain, argius king of ireland, father of isoude the fair, argo, builder of the vessel of jason for the argonautic expedition, argolis, city of the nemean games, argonauts, jason's crew seeking the golden fleece, argos, a kingdom in greece, argus, of the hundred eyes, guardian of io, ariadne, daughter of king minos, who helped theseus slay the minotaur, arimanes see ahriman. arimaspians, one-eyed people of syria, arion, famous musician, whom sailors cast into the sea to rob him, but whose lyric song charmed the dolphins, one of which bore him safely to land, aristaeus, the bee keeper, in love with eurydice, armorica, another name for britain, arridano, a magical ruffian, slain by orlando, artemis see diana arthgallo, brother of elidure, british king, arthur, king in britain about the th century, aruns, an etruscan who killed camilla, asgard, home of the northern gods, ashtaroth, a cruel spirit, called by enchantment to bring rinaldo to death, aske, the first man, made from an ash tree, astolpho of england, one of charlemagne's knights, astraea, goddess of justice, daughter of astraeus and eos, astyages, an assailant of perseus, astyanax, son of hector of troy, established kingdom of messina in italy, asuias, opponents of the braminical gods, atalanta, beautiful daughter of king of icaria, loved and won in a foot race by hippomenes, ate, the goddess of infatuation, mischief and guilt, athamas, son of aeolus and enarete, and king of orchomenus, in boeotia, see ino athene, tutelary goddess of athens, the same as minerva, athens, the capital of attica, about four miles from the sea, between the small rivers cephissus and ilissus, athor, egyptian deity, progenitor of isis and osiris, athos, the mountainous peninsula, also called acte, which projects from chalcidice in macedonia, atlantes, foster father of rogero, a powerful magician, atlantis, according to an ancient tradition, a great island west of the pillars of hercules, in the ocean, opposite mount atlas, atlas, a titan, who bore the heavens on his shoulders, as punishment for opposing the gods, one of the sons of iapetus, atlas, mount, general name for range in northern africa, atropos, one of the fates attica, a state in ancient greece, audhumbla, the cow from which the giant ymir was nursed. her milk was frost melted into raindrops, augean stables, cleansed by hercules, augeas, king of elis, augustan age, reign of roman emperor augustus caesar, famed for many great authors, augustus, the first imperial caesar, who ruled the roman empire bc-- ad, aulis, port in boeotia, meeting place of greek expedition against troy, aurora, identical with eos, goddess of the dawn, aurora borealis, splendid nocturnal luminosity in northern sky, called northern lights, probably electrical, autumn, attendant of phoebus, the sun, avalon, land of the blessed, an earthly paradise in the western seas, burial place of king arthur, avatar, name for any of the earthly incarnations of vishnu, the preserver (hindu god), aventine, mount, one of the seven hills of rome, avernus, a miasmatic lake close to the promontory between cumae and puteoli, filling the crater of an extinct volcano, by the ancients thought to be the entrance to the infernal regions, avicenna, celebrated arabian physician and philosopher, aya, mother of rinaldo, aymon, duke, father of rinaldo and bradamante, b baal, king of tyre, babylonian river, dried up when phaeton drove the sun chariot, bacchanali a, a feast to bacchus that was permitted to occur but once in three years, attended by most shameless orgies, bacchanals, devotees and festal dancers of bacchus, bacchus (dionysus), god of wine and revelry, badon, battle of, arthur's final victory over the saxons, bagdemagus, king, a knight of arthur's time, baldur, son of odin, and representing in norse mythology the sun god, balisardo, orlando's sword, ban, king of brittany, ally of arthur, father of launcelot, bards, minstrels of welsh druids, basilisk see cockatrice baucis, wife of philemon, visited by jupiter and mercury, bayard, wild horse subdued by rinaldo, beal, druids' god of life, bedivere, arthur's knight, bedver, king arthur's butler, made governor of normandy, bedwyr, knightly comrade of geraint, belisarda, rogero's sword, bellerophon, demigod, conqueror of the chimaera, bellona, the roman goddess of war, represented as the sister or wife of mars, beltane, druidical fire festival, belus, son of poseidon (neptune) and libya or eurynome, twin brother of agenor, bendigeid vran, king of britain, beowulf, hero and king of the swedish geats, beroe, nurse of semele, bertha, mother of orlando, bifrost, rainbow bridge between the earth and asgard bladud, inventor, builder of the city of bath, blamor, a knight of arthur, bleoberis, a knight of arthur, boeotia, state in ancient greece, capital city thebes, bohort, king, a knight of arthur, bona dea, a roman divinity of fertility, bootes, also called areas, son of jupiter and calisto, changed to constellation of ursa major, boreas, north wind, son of aeolus and aurora, bosporus (bosphorus), the cow-ford, named for io, when as a heifer she crossed that strait, bradamante, sister to rinaldo, a female warrior, brademagus, king, father of sir maleagans, bragi, norse god of poetry, brahma, the creator, chief god of hindu religion, branwen, daughter of llyr, king of britain, wife of mathclch, breciliande, forest of, where vivian enticed merlin, brengwain, maid of isoude the fair brennus, son of molmutius, went to gaul, became king of the allobroges, breuse, the pitiless, a caitiff knight, briareus, hundred armed giant, brice, bishop, sustainer of arthur when elected king, brigliadoro, orlando's horse, briseis, captive maid belonging to achilles, britto, reputed ancestor of british people, bruhier, sultan of arabia, brunello, dwarf, thief, and king brunhild, leader of the valkyrie, brutus, great grandson of aeneas, and founder of city of new troy (london), see pandrasus bryan, sir, a knight of arthur, buddha, called the enlightened, reformer of brahmanism, deified teacher of self abnegation, virtue, reincarnation, karma (inevitable sequence of every act), and nirvana (beatific absorption into the divine), lived about byblos, in egypt, byrsa, original site of carthage, c cacus, gigantic son of vulcan, slain by hercules, whose captured cattle he stole, cadmus, son of agenor, king of phoenicia, and of telephassa, and brother of europa, who, seeking his sister, carried off by jupiter, had strange adventures--sowing in the ground teeth of a dragon he had killed, which sprang up armed men who slew each other, all but five, who helped cadmus to found the city of thebes, caduceus, mercury's staff, cadwallo, king of venedotia (north wales), caerleon, traditional seat of arthur's court, caesar, julius, roman lawyer, general, statesman and author, conquered and consolidated roman territory, making possible the empire, caicus, a greek river, cairns, druidical store piles, calais, french town facing england, calchas, wisest soothsayer among the greeks at troy, caliburn, a sword of arthur, calliope, one of the nine muses callisto, an arcadian nymph, mother of arcas (see bootes), changed by jupiter to constellation ursa minor, calpe, a mountain in the south of spain, on the strait between the atlantic and mediterranean, now rock of gibraltar, calydon, home of meleager, calypso, queen of island of ogyia, where ulysses was wrecked and held seven years, camber, son of brutus, governor of west albion (wales), camelot, legendary place in england where arthur's court and palace were located, camenae, prophetic nymphs, belonging to the religion of ancient italy, camilla, volscian maiden, huntress and amazonian warrior, favorite of diana, camlan, battle of, where arthur was mortally wounded, canterbury, english city, capaneus, husband of evadne, slain by jupiter for disobedience, capet, hugh, king of france ( - ad), caradoc briefbras, sir, great nephew of king arthur, carahue, king of mauretania, carthage, african city, home of dido cassandra, daughter of priam and hecuba, and twin sister of helenus, a prophetess, who foretold the coming of the greeks but was not believed, cassibellaunus, british chieftain, fought but not conquered by caesar, cassiopeia, mother of andromeda, castalia, fountain of parnassus, giving inspiration to oracular priestess named pythia, castalian cave, oracle of apollo, castes (india), castor and pollux--the dioscuri, sons of jupiter and leda,-- castor a horseman, pollux a boxer (see gemini), caucasus, mount cavall, arthur's favorite dog, cayster, ancient river, cebriones, hector's charioteer, cecrops, first king of athens, celestials, gods of classic mythology, celeus, shepherd who sheltered ceres, seeking proserpine, and whose infant son triptolemus was in gratitude made great by ceres, cellini, benvenuto, famous italian sculptor and artificer in metals, celtic nations, ancient gauls and britons, modern bretons, welsh, irish and gaelic scotch, centaurs, originally an ancient race, inhabiting mount pelion in thessaly, in later accounts represented as half horses and half men, and said to have been the offspring of ixion and a cloud, cephalus, husband of beautiful but jealous procris, cephe us, king of ethiopians, father of andromeda, cephisus, a grecian stream, cerberus, three-headed dog that guarded the entrance to hades, called a son of typhaon and echidna ceres (see demeter) cestus, the girdle of venus ceyx, king of thessaly (see halcyone) chaos, original confusion, personified by greeks as most ancient of the gods charlemagne, king of the franks and emperor of the romans charles martel', king of the franks, grandfather of charlemagne, called martel (the hammer) from his defeat of the saracens at tours charlot, son of charlemagne charon, son of erebos, conveyed in his boat the shades of the dead across the rivers of the lower world charyb'dis, whirlpool near the coast of sicily, see scylla chimaera, a fire breathing monster, the fore part of whose body was that of a lion, the hind part that of a dragon, and the middle that of a goat, slain by bellerophon china, lamas (priests) of chos, island in the grecian archipelago chiron, wisest of all the centaurs, son of cronos (saturn) and philyra, lived on mount pelion, instructor of grecian heroes chryseis, trojan maid, taken by agamemnon chryses, priest of apollo, father of chryseis ciconians, inhabitants of ismarus, visited by ulysses cimbri, an ancient people of central europe cimmeria, a land of darkness cimon, athenian general circe, sorceress, sister of aeetes cithaeron, mount, scene of bacchic worship clarimunda, wife of huon clio, one of the muses cloridan, a moor clotho, one of the fates clymene, an ocean nymph clytemnestra, wife of agamemnon, killed by orestes clytie, a water nymph, in love with apollo cnidos, ancient city of asia minor, seat of worship of aphrodite (venus) cockatrice (or basilisk), called king of serpents, supposed to kill with its look cocytus, a river of hades colchis, a kingdom east of the black sea colophon, one of the seven cities claiming the birth of homer columba, st, an irish christian missionary to druidical parts of scotland conan, welsh king constantine, greek emperor cordeilla, daughter of the mythical king leir corineus, a trojan warrior in albion cornwall, southwest part of britain cortana, ogier's sword corybantes, priests of cybele, or rhea, in phrygia, who celebrated her worship with dances, to the sound of the drum and the cymbal, crab, constellation cranes and their enemies, the pygmies, of ibycus creon, king of thebes crete, one of the largest islands of the mediterranean sea, lying south of the cyclades creusa, daughter of priam, wife of aeneas crocale, a nymph of diana cromlech, druidical altar cronos, see saturn crotona, city of italy cuchulain, irish hero, called the "hound of ireland," culdees', followers of st. columba, cumaean sibyl, seeress of cumae, consulted by aeneas, sold sibylline books to tarquin cupid, child of venus and god of love curoi of kerry, wise man cyane, river, opposed pluto's passage to hades cybele (rhea) cyclopes, creatures with circular eyes, of whom homer speaks as a gigantic and lawless race of shepherds in sicily, who devoured human beings, they helped vulcan to forge the thunderbolts of zeus under aetna cymbeline, king of ancient britain cynosure (dog's tail), the pole star, at tail of constellation ursa minor cynthian mountain top, birthplace of artemis (diana) and apollo cyprus, island off the coast of syria, sacred to aphrodite cyrene, a nymph, mother of aristaeus daedalus, architect of the cretan labyrinth, inventor of sails daguenet, king arthur's fool dalai lama, chief pontiff of thibet danae, mother of perseus by jupiter danaides, the fifty daughters of danaus, king of argos, who were betrothed to the fifty sons of aegyptus, but were commanded by their father to slay each her own husband on the marriage night danaus (see danaides) daphne, maiden loved by apollo, and changed into a laurel tree dardanelles, ancient hellespont dardanus, progenitor of the trojan kings dardinel, prince of zumara dawn, see aurora day, an attendant on phoebus, the sun day star (hesperus) death, see hela deiphobus, son of priam and hecuba, the bravest brother of paris dejanira, wife of hercules delos, floating island, birthplace of apollo and diana delphi, shrine of apollo, famed for its oracles demeter, greek goddess of marriage and human fertility, identified by romans with ceres demeha, south wales demodocus, bard of alomous, king of the phaeaeians deucalion, king of thessaly, who with his wife pyrrha were the only pair surviving a deluge sent by zeus dia, island of diana (artemis), goddess of the moon and of the chase, daughter of jupiter and latona diana of the hind, antique sculpture in the louvre, paris diana, temple of dictys, a sailor didier, king of the lombards dido, queen of tyre and carthage, entertained the shipwrecked aeneas diomede, greek hero during trojan war dione, female titan, mother of zeus, of aphrodite (venus) dionysus see bacchus dioscuri, the twins (see castor and pollux) dirce, wife of lycus, king of thebes, who ordered amphion and zethus to tie antiope to a wild bull, but they, learning antiope to be their mother, so treated dirce herself dis see pluto discord, apple of, see eris. discordia, see eris. dodona, site of an oracle of zeus (jupiter) dorceus, a dog of diana doris, wife of nereus dragon's teeth sown by cadmus druids, ancient celtic priests dryades (or dryads), see wood nymphs dryope, changed to a lotus plant, for plucking a lotus--enchanted form of the nymph lotis dubricius, bishop of caerleon, dudon, a knight, comrade of astolpho, dunwallo molmu'tius, british king and lawgiver durindana, sword of orlando or rinaldo dwarfs in wagner's nibelungen ring e earth (gaea); goddess of the ebudians, the echo, nymph of diana, shunned by narcissus, faded to nothing but a voice ecklenlied, the eddas, norse mythological records, ederyn, son of nudd egena, nymph of the fountain eisteddfod, session of welsh bards and minstrels electra, the lost one of the pleiades, also, sister of orestes eleusian mysteries, instituted by ceres, and calculated to awaken feelings of piety and a cheerful hope of better life in the future eleusis, grecian city elgin marbles, greek sculptures from the parthenon of athens, now in british museum, london, placed there by lord elgin eliaures, enchanter elidure, a king of britain elis, ancient greek city elli, old age; the one successful wrestler against thor elphin, son of gwyddiro elves, spiritual beings, of many powers and dispositions--some evil, some good elvidnir, the ball of hela elysian fields, the land of the blest elysian plain, whither the favored of the gods were taken without death elysium, a happy land, where there is neither snow, nor cold, nor ram. hither favored heroes, like menelaus, pass without dying, and live happy under the rule of rhadamanthus. in the latin poets elysium is part of the lower world, and the residence of the shades of the blessed embla, the first woman enseladus, giant defeated by jupiter endymion, a beautiful youth beloved by diana enid, wife of geraint enna, vale of home of proserpine enoch, the patriarch epidaurus, a town in argolis, on the saronic gulf, chief seat of the worship of aeculapius, whose temple was situated near the town epimetheus, son of iapetus, husband of pandora, with his brother prometheus took part in creation of man epirus, country to the west of thessaly, lying along the adriatic sea epopeus, a sailor erato, one of the muses erbin of cornwall, father of geraint erebus, son of chaos, region of darkness, entrance to hades eridanus, river erinys, one of the furies eriphyle, sister of polynices, bribed to decide on war, in which her husband was slain eris (discordia), goddess of discord. at the wedding of peleus and thetis, eris being uninvited threw into the gathering an apple "for the fairest," which was claimed by hera (juno), aphrodite (venus) and athena (minerva) paris, being called upon for judgment, awarded it to aphrodite erisichthon, an unbeliever, punished by famine eros see cupid erytheia, island eryx, a mount, haunt of venus esepus, river in paphlagonia estrildis, wife of locrine, supplanting divorced guendolen eteocles, son of oeipus and jocasta etruscans, ancient people of italy, etzel, king of the huns euboic sea, where hercules threw lichas, who brought him the poisoned shirt of nessus eude, king of aquitaine, ally of charles martel eumaeus, swineherd of aeeas eumenides, also called erinnyes, and by the romans furiae or diraae, the avenging deities, see furies euphorbus, a trojan, killed by menelaus euphros'yne, one of the graces europa, daughter of the phoenician king agenor, by zeus the mother of minos, rhadamanthus, and sarpedon eurus, the east wind euyalus, a gallant trojan soldier, who with nisus entered the grecian camp, both being slain, eurydice, wife of orpheus, who, fleeing from an admirer, was killed by a snake and borne to tartarus, where orpheus sought her and was permitted to bring her to earth if he would not look back at her following him, but he did, and she returned to the shades, eurylochus, a companion of ulysses, eurynome, female titan, wife of ophlon eurystheus, taskmaster of hercules, eurytion, a centaur (see hippodamia), euterpe, muse who presided over music, evadne, wife of capaneus, who flung herself upon his funeral pile and perished with him evander, arcadian chief, befriending aeneas in italy, evnissyen, quarrelsome brother of branwen, excalibar, sword of king arthur, f fafner, a giant turned dragon, treasure stealer, by the solar theory simply the darkness who steals the day, falerina, an enchantress, fasolt, a giant, brother of fafner, and killed by him, "fasti," ovid's, a mythological poetic calendar, fata morgana, a mirage fates, the three, described as daughters of night--to indicate the darkness and obscurity of human destiny--or of zeus and themis, that is, "daughters of the just heavens" they were clo'tho, who spun the thread of life, lach'esis, who held the thread and fixed its length and at'ropos, who cut it off fauns, cheerful sylvan deities, represented in human form, with small horns, pointed ears, and sometimes goat's tail faunus, son of picus, grandson of saturnus, and father of latinus, worshipped as the protecting deity of agriculture and of shepherds, and also as a giver of oracles favonius, the west wind fear fenris, a wolf, the son of loki the evil principle of scandinavia, supposed to have personated the element of fire, destructive except when chained fensalir, freya's palace, called the hall of the sea, where were brought together lovers, husbands, and wives who had been separated by death ferragus, a giant, opponent of orlando ferrau, one of charlemagne's knights ferrex. brother of porrex, the two sons of leir fire worshippers, of ancient persia, see parsees flollo, roman tribune in gaul flora, roman goddess of flowers and spring flordelis, fair maiden beloved by florismart florismart, sir, a brave knight, flosshilda, one of the rhine daughters fortunate fields fortunate islands (see elysian plain) forum, market place and open square for public meetings in rome, surrounded by court houses, palaces, temples, etc francus, son of histion, grandson of japhet, great grandson of noah, legendary ancestor of the franks, or french freki, one of odin's two wolves frey, or freyr, god of the sun freya, norse goddess of music, spring, and flowers fricka, goddess of marriage frigga, goddess who presided over smiling nature, sending sunshine, rain, and harvest froh, one of the norse gods fronti'no, rogero's horse furies (erinnyes), the three retributive spirits who punished crime, represented as snaky haired old woman, named alecto, megaeira, and tisiphone fusberta, rinaldo's sword g gaea, or ge, called tellus by the romans, the personification of the earth, described as the first being that sprang fiom chaos, and gave birth to uranus (heaven) and pontus (sea) gahariet, knight of arthur's court gaheris, knight galafron, king of cathay, father of angelica galahad, sir, the pure knight of arthur's round table, who safely took the siege perilous (which see) galatea, a nereid or sea nymph galatea, statue carved and beloved by pygmalion galen, greek physician and philosophical writer gallehant, king of the marches games, national athletic contests in greece--olympian, at olympia, pythian, near delphi, seat of apollo's oracle, isthmian, on the corinthian isthmus, nemean, at nemea in argolis gan, treacherous duke of maganza ganelon of mayence, one of charlemagne's knights ganges, river in india gano, a peer of charlemagne ganymede, the most beautiful of all mortals, carried off to olympus that he might fill the cup of zeus and live among the immortal gods gareth, arthur's knight gaudisso, sultan gaul, ancient france gautama, prince, the buddha gawain, arthur's knight gawl, son of clud, suitor for rhiannon gemini (see castor), constellation created by jupiter from the twin brothers after death, genghis khan, tartar conqueror genius, in roman belief, the protective spirit of each individual man, see juno geoffrey of mon'mouth, translator into latin of the welsh history of the kings of britain ( ) geraint, a knight of king arthur gerda, wife of frey geri, one of odin's two wolves geryon, a three bodied monster gesnes, navigator sent for isoude the fair giallar horn, the trumpet that heimdal will blow at the judgment day giants, beings of monstrous size and of fearful countenances, represented as in constant opposition to the gods, in wagner's nibelungen ring gibichung race, ancestors of alberich gibraltar, great rock and town at southwest corner of spain (see pillars of hercules) gildas, a scholar of arthur's court girard, son of duke sevinus glastonbury, where arthur died glaucus, a fisherman, loving scylla gleipnir, magical chain on the wolf fenris glewlwyd, arthur's porter golden fleece, of ram used for escape of children of athamas, named helle and phryxus (which see), after sacrifice of ram to jupiter, fleece was guarded by sleepless dragon and gained by jason and argonauts (which see, also helle) goneril, daughter of leir gordian knot, tying up in temple the wagon of gordius, he who could untie it being destined to be lord of asia, it was cut by alexander the great, gordius, a countryman who, arriving in phrygia in a wagon, was made king by the people, thus interpreting an oracle, gorgons, three monstrous females, with huge teeth, brazen claws and snakes for hair, sight of whom turned beholders to stone, medusa, the most famous, slain by perseus gorlois, duke of tintadel gouvernail, squire of isabella, queen of lionesse, protector of her son tristram while young, and his squire in knighthood graal, the holy, cup from which the saviour drank at last supper, taken by joseph of arimathea to europe, and lost, its recovery becoming a sacred quest for arthur's knights graces, three goddesses who enhanced the enjoyments of life by refinement and gentleness; they were aglaia (brilliance), euphrosyne (joy), and thalia (bloom) gradas'so, king of sericane graeae, three gray haired female watchers for the gorgons, with one movable eye and one tooth between the three grand lama, buddhist pontiff in thibet grendel, monster slain by beowulf gryphon (griffin), a fabulous animal, with the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle, dwelling in the rhipaean mountains, between the hyperboreans and the one eyed arimaspians, and guarding the gold of the north, guebers, persian fire worshippers, guendolen, wife of locrine, guenevere, wife of king arthur, beloved by launcelot, guerin, lord of vienne, father of oliver, guiderius, son of cymbeline, guillamurius, king in ireland, guimier, betrothed of caradoc, gullinbursti, the boar drawing frey's car, gulltopp, heimdell's horse, gunfasius, king of the orkneys, ganther, burgundian king, brother of kriemhild, gutrune, half sister to hagen, gwern son of matholch and branwen, gwernach the giant, gwiffert petit, ally of geraint, gwyddno, garanhir, king of gwaelod, gwyr, judge in the court of arthur, gyoll, river, h hades, originally the god of the nether world--the name later used to designate the gloomy subterranean land of the dead, haemon, son of creon of thebes, and lover of antigone, haemonian city, haemus, mount, northern boundary of thrace, hagan, a principal character in the nibelungen lied, slayer of siegfried, halcyone, daughter of aeneas, and the beloved wife of ceyx, who, when he was drowned, flew to his floating body, and the pitying gods changed them both to birds (kingfishers), who nest at sea during a certain calm week in winter ("halcyon weather") hamadryads, tree-nymphs or wood-nymphs, see nymphs harmonia, daughter of mars and venus, wife of cadmus haroun al raschid, caliph of arabia, contemporary of charlemagne harpies, monsters, with head and bust of woman, but wings, legs and tail of birds, seizing souls of the wicked, or punishing evildoers by greedily snatching or defiling their food harpocrates, egyptian god, horus hebe, daughter of juno, cupbearer to the gods hebrus, ancient name of river maritzka hecate, a mighty and formidable divinity, supposed to send at night all kinds of demons and terrible phantoms from the lower world hector, son of priam and champion of troy hector, one of arthur's knights hector de marys', a knight hecuba, wife of priam, king of troy, to whom she bore hector, paris, and many other children hegira, flight of mahomet from mecca to medina ( ad), era from which mahometans reckon time, as we do from the birth of christ heidrun, she goat, furnishing mead for slain heroes in valhalla heimdall, watchman of the gods hel, the lower world of scandinavia, to which were consigned those who had not died in battle hela (death), the daughter of loki and the mistress of the scandinavian hel helen, daughter of jupiter and leda, wife of menelaus, carried off by paris and cause of the trojan war helenus, son of priam and hecuba, celebrated for his prophetic powers heliades, sisters of phaeton helicon, mount, in greece, residence of apollo and the muses, with fountains of poetic inspiration, aganippe and hippocrene helioopolis, city of the sun, in egypt hellas, gieece helle, daughter of thessalian king athamas, who, escaping from cruel father with her brother phryxus, on ram with golden fleece, fell into the sea strait since named for her (see golden fleece) hellespont, narrow strait between europe and asia minor, named for helle hengist, saxon invader of britain, ad hephaestos, see vulcan hera, called juno by the romans, a daughter of cronos (saturn) and rhea, and sister and wife of jupiter, see juno hercules, athletic hero, son of jupiter and alcmena, achieved twelve vast labors and many famous deeds hereward the wake, hero of the saxons hermes (mercury), messenger of the gods, deity of commerce, science, eloquence, trickery, theft, and skill generally hermione, daughter of menelaus and helen hermod, the nimble, son of odin hero, a priestess of venus, beloved of leander herodotus, greek historian hesiod, greek poet hesperia, ancient name for italy hesperides (see apples of the hesperides) hesperus, the evening star (also called day star) hestia, cilled vesta by the romans, the goddess of the hearth hildebrand, german magician and champion hindu triad, brahma, vishnu, and siva hippocrene (see helicon) hippodamia, wife of pirithous, at whose wedding the centaurs offered violence to the bride, causing a great battle hippogriff, winged horse, with eagle's head and claws hippolyta, queen of the amazons hippolytus, son of thesus hippomenes, who won atalanta in foot race, beguiling her with golden apples thrown for her to histion, son of japhet hodur, blind man, who, fooled by loki, threw a mistletoe twig at baldur, killing him hoel, king of brittany homer, the blind poet of greece, about b c hope (see pandora) horae see hours horsa, with hengist, invader of britain horus, egyptian god of the sun houdain, tristram's dog hringham, baldur's ship hrothgar, king of denmark hugi, who beat thialfi in foot races hugin, one of odin's two ravens hunding, husband of sieglinda huon, son of duke sevinus hyacinthus, a youth beloved by apollo, and accidentally killed by him, changed in death to the flower, hyacinth hyades, nysaean nymphs, nurses of infant bacchus, rewarded by being placed as cluster of stars in the heavens hyale, a nymph of diana hydra, nine headed monster slain by hercules hygeia, goddess of health, daughter of aesculapius hylas, a youth detained by nymphs of spring where he sought water hymen, the god of marriage, imagined as a handsome youth and invoked in bridal songs hymettus, mountain in attica, near athens, celebrated for its marble and its honey hyperboreans, people of the far north hyperion, a titan, son of uranus and ge, and father of helios, selene, and eos, cattle of, hyrcania, prince of, betrothed to clarimunda hyrieus, king in greece, i iapetus, a titan, son of uranus and ge, and father of atlas, prometheus, epimetheus, and menoetius, iasius, father of atalanta ibycus, a poet, story of, and the cranes icaria, island of the aegean sea, one of the sporades icarius, spartan prince, father of penelope icarus, son of daedalus, he flew too near the sun with artificial wings, and, the wax melting, he fell into the sea icelos, attendant of morpheus icolumkill see iona ida, mount, a trojan hill idaeus, a trojan herald idas, son of aphareus and arene, and brother of lynceus idu'na, wife of bragi igerne, wife of gorlois, and mother, by uther, of arthur iliad, epic poem of the trojan war, by homer ilioheus, a son of niobe ilium see troy illyria, adriatic countries north of greece imogen, daughter of pandrasus, wife of trojan brutus inachus, son of oceanus and tethys, and father of phoroneus and io, also first king of argos, and said to have given his name to the river inachus incubus, an evil spirit, supposed to lie upon persons in their sleep indra, hindu god of heaven, thunder, lightning, storm and rain ino, wife of athamas, fleeing from whom with infant son she sprang into the sea and was changed to leucothea io, changed to a heifer by jupiter iobates, king of lycia iolaus, servant of hercules iole, sister of dryope iona, or icolmkill, a small northern island near scotland, where st columba founded a missionary monastery ( ad) ionia, coast of asia minor iphigenia, daughter of agamemnon, offered as a sacrifice but carried away by diana iphis, died for love of anaxarete, iphitas, friend of hercules, killed by him iris, goddess of the rainbow, messenger of juno and zeus ironside, arthur's knight isabella, daughter of king of galicia isis, wife of osiris, described as the giver of death isles of the blessed ismarus, first stop of ulysses, returning from trojan war isme'nos, a son of niobe, slain by apollo isolier, friend of rinaldo isoude the fair, beloved of tristram isoude of the white hands, married to tristram isthmian games, see games ithaca, home of ulysses and penelope iulus, son of aeneas ivo, saracen king, befriending rinaldo ixion, once a sovereign of thessaly, sentenced in tartarus to be lashed with serpents to a wheel which a strong wind drove continually around j janiculum, roman fortress on the janiculus, a hill on the other side of the tiber janus, a deity from the earliest times held in high estimation by the romans, temple of japhet (iapetus) jason, leader of the argonauts, seeking the golden fleece joseph of arimathea, who bore the holy graal to europe jotunheim, home of the giants in northern mythology jove (zeus), chief god of roman and grecian mythology, see jupiter joyous garde, residence of sir launcelot of the lake juggernaut, hindu deity juno, the particular guardian spirit of each woman (see genius) juno, wife of jupiter, queen of the gods jupiter, jovis pater, father jove, jupiter and jove used interchangeably, at dodona, statue of the olympian jupiter ammon (see ammon) jupiter capitolinus, temple of, preserving the sibylline books justice, see themis k kadyriath, advises king arthur kai, son of kyner kalki, tenth avatar of vishnu kay, arthur's steward and a knight kedalion, guide of orion kerman, desert of kicva, daughter of gwynn gloy kilwich, son of kilydd kilydd, son of prince kelyddon, of wales kneph, spirit or breath knights, training and life of kriemhild, wife of siegfried krishna, eighth avatar of vishnu, hindu deity of fertility in nature and mankind kyner, father of kav kynon, son of clydno l labyrinth, the enclosed maze of passageways where roamed the minotaur of crete, killed by theseus with aid of ariadne lachesis, one of the fates (which see) lady of the fountain, tale told by kynon laertes, father of ulysses laestrygonians, savages attacking ulysses laius, king of thebes lama, holy man of thibet lampetia, daughter of hyperion laoc'oon, a priest of neptune, in troy, who warned the trojans against the wooden horse (which see), but when two serpents came out of the sea and strangled him and his two sons, the people listened to the greek spy sinon, and brought the fatal horse into the town laodamia, daughter of acastus and wife of protesilaus laodegan, king of carmalide, helped by arthur and merlin laomedon, king of troy lapithae, thessalonians, whose king had invited the centaurs to his daughter's wedding but who attacked them for offering violence to the bride lares, household deities larkspur, flower from the blood of ajax latinus, ruler of latium, where aeneas landed in italy latmos, mount, where diana fell in love with endymion latona, mother of apollo launcelot, the most famous knight of the round table lausus, son of mezentius, killed by aeneas lavinia, daughter of latinus and wife of aeneas lavinium, italian city named for lavinia law, see themis leander, a youth of abydos, who, swimming the hellespont to see hero, his love, was drowned lebadea, site of the oracle of trophomus lebynthos, aegean island leda, queen of sparta, wooed by jupiter in the form of a swan leir, mythical king of britain, original of shakespeare's lear lelaps, dog of cephalus lemnos, large island in the aegean sea, sacred to vulcan lemures, the spectres or spirits of the dead leo, roman emperor, greek prince lethe, river of hades, drinking whose water caused forgetfulness leucadia, a promontory, whence sappho, disappointed in love, was said to have thrown herself into the sea leucothea, a sea goddess, invoked by sailors for protection (see ino) lewis, son of charlemagne liber, ancient god of fruitfulness libethra, burial place of orpheus libya, greek name for continent of africa in general libyan desert, in africa libyan oasis lichas, who brought the shirt of nessus to hercules limours, earl of linus, musical instructor of hercules lionel, knight of the round table llyr, king of britain locrine, son of brutus in albion, king of central england loegria, kingdom of (england) logestilla, a wise lady, who entertained rogero and his friends logi, who vanquished loki in an eating contest loki, the satan of norse mythology, son of the giant farbanti lot, king, a rebel chief, subdued by king arthur, then a loyal knight lotis, a nymph, changed to a lotus-plant and in that form plucked by dryope lotus eaters, soothed to indolence, companions of ulysses landing among them lost all memory of home and had to be dragged away before they would continue their voyage love (eros) issued from egg of night, and with arrows and torch produced life and joy lucan, one of arthur's knights lucius tiberius, roman procurator in britain demanding tribute from arthur lud, british king, whose capital was called lud's town (london) ludgate, city gate where lud was buried, luned, maiden who guided owain to the lady of the fountain lycahas, a turbulent sailor lycaon, son of priam lycia, a district in southern asia minor lycomodes, king of the dolopians, who treacherously slew theseus lycus, usurping king of thebes lynceus, one of the sons of aegyptus m mabinogeon, plural of mabinogi, fairy tales and romances of the welsh mabon, son of modron machaon, son of aesculapius madan, son of guendolen madoc, a forester of king arthur mador, scottish knight maelgan, king who imprisoned elphin maeonia, ancient lydia magi, persian priests mahadeva, same as siva mahomet, great prophet of arabia, born in mecca, ad, proclaimed worship of god instead of idols, spread his religion through disciples and then by force till it prevailed, with arabian dominion, over vast regions in asia, africa, and spain in europe maia, daughter of atlas and pleione, eldest and most beautiful of the pleiades malagigi the enchanter, one of charlemagne's knights maleagans, false knight malvasius, king of iceland mambrino, with invisible helmet manawyd dan, brother of king vran, of london mandricardo, son of agrican mantua, in italy, birthplace of virgil manu, ancestor of mankind marathon, where theseus and pirithous met mark, king of cornwall, husband of isoude the fair maro see virgil marphisa, sister of rogero marsilius, spanish king, treacherous foe of charlemagne marsyas, inventor of the flute, who challenged apollo to musical competition, and, defeated, was flayed alive matsya, the fish, first avatar of vishnu meander, grecian river mede, a, princess and sorceress who aided jason medoro, a young moor, who wins angelica medusa, one of the gorgons megaera, one of the furies melampus, a spartan dog, the first mortal endowed with prophetic powers melanthus, steersman for bacchus meleager, one of the argonauts (see althaea) meliadus, king of lionesse, near cornwall melicertes, infant son of ino. changed to palaemon (see ino, leucothea, and palasmon) melissa, priestess at merlin's tomb melisseus, a cretan king melpomene, one of the muses memnon, the beautiful son of tithonus and eos (aurora), and king of the ethiopians, slain in trojan war memphis, egyptian city menelaus, son of king of sparta, husband of helen menoeceus, son of creon, voluntary victim in war to gain success for his father mentor, son of alcimus and a faithful friend of ulysses mercury (see hermes) merlin, enchanter merope, daughter of king of chios, beloved by orion mesmerism, likened to curative oracle of aesculapius at epidaurus metabus, father of camilla metamorphoses, ovid's poetical legends of mythical transformations, a large source of our knowledge of classic mythology metanira, a mother, kind to ceres seeking proserpine metempsychosis, transmigration of souls--rebirth of dying men and women in forms of animals or human beings metis, prudence, a spouse of jupiter mezentius, a brave but cruel soldier, opposing aeneas in italy midas midgard, the middle world of the norsemen midgard serpent, a sea monster, child of loki milky way, starred path across the sky, believed to be road to palace of the gods milo, a great athlete mlon, father of orlando milton, john, great english poet, whose history of england is here largely used mime, one of the chief dwarfs of ancient german mythology minerva (athene), daughter of jupiter, patroness of health, learning, and wisdom minos, king of crete mino taur, monster killed by theseus mistletoe, fatal to baldur mnemosyne, one of the muses modesty, statue to modred, nephew of king arthur moly, plant, powerful against sorcery momus, a deity whose delight was to jeer bitterly at gods and men monad, the "unit" of pythagoras monsters, unnatural beings, evilly disposed to men montalban, rinaldo's castle month, the, attendant upon the sun moon, goddess of, see diana moraunt, knight, an irish champion morgana, enchantress, the lady of the lake in "orlando furioso," same as morgane le fay in tales of arthur morgane le fay, queen of norway, king arthur's sister, an enchantress morgan tud, arthur's chief physician morpheus, son of sleep and god of dreams morte d'arthur, romance, by sir thomas mallory mulciber, latin name of vulcan mull, island of munin, one of odin's two ravens musaeus, sacred poet, son of orpheus muses, the, nine goddesses presiding over poetry, etc--calliope, epic poetry, clio, history, erato, love poetry, euterpe, lyric poetry; melpomene, tragedy, polyhymnia, oratory and sacred song terpsichore, choral song and dance, thalia, comedy and idyls, urania, astronomy muspelheim, the fire world of the norsemen mycenas, ancient grecian city, of which agamemnon was king myrddin (merlin) myrmidons, bold soldiers of achilles mysia, greek district on northwest coast of asia minor mythology, origin of, collected myths, describing gods of early peoples n naiads, water nymphs namo, duke of bavaria, one of charlemagne's knights nanna, wife of baldur nanters, british king nantes, site of caradoc's castle nape, a dog of diana narcissus, who died of unsatisfied love for his own image in the water nausicaa, daughter of king alcinous, who befriended ulysses nausithous, king of phaeacians naxos, island of negus, king of abyssinia nemea, forest devastated by a lion killed by hercules nemean games, held in honor of jupiter and hercules nemean lion, killed by hercules nemesis, goddess of vengeance nennius, british combatant of caesar neoptolemus, son of achilles nepenthe, ancient drug to cause forgetfulness of pain or distress nephele, mother of phryxus and helle nephthys, egyptian goddess neptune, identical with poseidon, god of the sea nereids, sea nymphs, daughters of nereus and doris nereus, a sea god nessus, a centaur killed by hercules, whose jealous wife sent him a robe or shirt steeped in the blood of nessus, which poisoned him nestor, king of pylos, renowned for his wisdom, justice, and knowledge of war nibelungen hoard, treasure seized by siegfried from the nibelungs, buried in the rhine by hagan after killing siegfried, and lost when hagan was killed by kriemhild, theme of wagner's four music dramas, "the ring of the nibelungen," nibelungen lied, german epic, giving the same nature myth as the norse volsunga saga, concerning the hoard nibelungen ring, wagner's music dramas nibelungs, the, a race of northern dwarfs nidhogge, a serpent in the lower world that lives on the dead niffleheim, mist world of the norsemen, the hades of absent spirits nile, egyptian river niobe, daughter of tantalus, proud queen of thebes, whose seven sons and seven daughters were killed by apollo and diana, at which amphion, her husband, killed himself, and niobe wept until she was turned to stone nisus, king of megara noah, as legendary ancestor of french, roman, german, and british peoples noman, name assumed by ulysses norns, the three scandinavian fates, urdur (the past), verdandi (the present), and skuld (the future) nothung, magic sword notus, southwest wind nox, daughter of chaos and sister of erebus, personification of night numa, second king of rome nymphs, beautiful maidens, lesser divinities of nature dryads and hamadryads, tree nymphs, naiads, spring, brook, and river nymphs, nereids, sea nymphs oreads, mountain nymphs or hill nymphs o oceanus, a titan, ruling watery elements ocyroe, a prophetess, daughter of chiron oderic odin, chief of the norse gods odyar, famous biscayan hero odysseus see ulysses odyssey, homer's poem, relating the wanderings of odysseus (ulysses) on returning from trojan war oedipus, theban hero, who guessed the riddle of the sphinx (which see), becoming king of thebes oeneus, king of calydon oenone, nymph, married by paris in his youth, and abandoned for helen oenopion, king of chios oeta, mount, scene of hercules' death ogier, the dane, one of the paladins of charlemagne oliver, companion of orlando olwen, wife of kilwich olympia, a small plain in elis, where the olympic games were celebrated olympiads, periods between olympic games (four years) olympian games, see games olympus, dwelling place of the dynasty of gods of which zeus was the head omphale, queen of lydia, daughter of iardanus and wife of tmolus ophion, king of the titans, who ruled olympus till dethroned by the gods saturn and rhea ops see rhea oracles, answers from the gods to questions from seekers for knowledge or advice for the future, usually in equivocal form, so as to fit any event, also places where such answers were given forth usually by a priest or priestess orc, a sea monster, foiled by rogero when about to devour angelica oreads, nymphs of mountains and hills orestes, son of agamemnon and clytemnestra, because of his crime in killing his mother, he was pursued by the furies until purified by minerva orion, youthful giant, loved by diana, constellation orithyia, a nymph, seized by boreas orlando, a famous knight and nephew of charlemagne ormuzd (greek, oromasdes), son of supreme being, source of good as his brother ahriman (arimanes) was of evil, in persian or zoroastrian religion orpheus, musician, son of apollo and calliope, see eurydice osiris, the most beneficent of the egyptian gods ossa, mountain of thessaly ossian, celtic poet of the second or third century ovid, latin poet (see metamorphoses) owain, knight at king arthur's court ozanna, a knight of arthur p pactolus, river whose sands were changed to gold by midas paeon, a name for both apollo and aesculapius, gods of medicine, pagans, heathen paladins or peers, knights errant palaemon, son of athamas and ino palamedes, messenger sent to call ulysses to the trojan war palamedes, saracen prince at arthur's court palatine, one of rome's seven hills pales, goddess presiding over cattle and pastures palinurus, faithful steersman of aeeas palladium, properly any image of pallas athene, but specially applied to an image at troy, which was stolen by ulysses and diomedes pallas, son of evander pallas a the'ne (minerva) pampha gus, a dog of diana pan, god of nature and the universe panathenaea, festival in honor of pallas athene (minerva) pandean pipes, musical instrument of reeds, made by pan in memory of syrinx pandora (all gifted), first woman, dowered with gifts by every god, yet entrusted with a box she was cautioned not to open, but, curious, she opened it, and out flew all the ills of humanity, leaving behind only hope, which remained pandrasus, a king in greece, who persecuted trojan exiles under brutus, great grandson of aeneas, until they fought, captured him, and, with his daughter imogen as brutus' wife, emigrated to albion (later called britain) panope, plain of panthus, alleged earlier incarnation of pythagoras paphlagnia, ancient country in asia minor, south of black sea paphos, daughter of pygmalion and galatea (both of which, see) parcae see fates pariahs, lowest caste of hindus paris, son of priam and hecuba, who eloped with helen (which. see) parnassian laurel, wreath from parnassus, crown awarded to successful poets parnassus, mountain near delphi, sacred to apollo and the muses parsees, persian fire worshippers (zoroastrians), of whom there are still thousands in persia and india parthenon, the temple of athene parthenos ("the virgin") on the acropolis of athens passebreul, tristram's horse patroclus, friend of achilles, killed by hector pecheur, king, uncle of perceval peers, the peg a sus, winged horse, born from the sea foam and the blood of medusa peleus, king of the myrmidons, father of achilles by thetis pelias, usurping uncle of jason pelion, mountain pelleas, knight of arthur penates, protective household deities of the romans pendragon, king of britain, elder brother of uther pendragon, who succeeded him penelope, wife of ulysses, who, waiting twenty years for his return from the trojan war, put off the suitors for her hand by promising to choose one when her weaving was done, but unravelled at night what she had woven by day peneus, river god, river penthesilea, queen of amazons pentheus, king of thebes, having resisted the introduction of the worship of bacchus into his kingdom, was driven mad by the god penus, roman house pantry, giving name to the penates pepin, father of charlemagne peplus, sacred robe of minerva perceval, a great knight of arthur perdix, inventor of saw and compasses periander, king of corinuh, friend of arion periphetes, son of vulcan, killed by theseus persephone, goddess of vegetation, see pioserpine perseus, son of jupiter and danae, slayer of the gorgon medusa, deliverer of andromeda from a sea monster, , , phaeacians, people who entertained ulysses phaedra, faithless and cruel wife of theseus phaethusa, sister of phaeton, phaeton, son of phoebus, who dared attempt to drive his father's sun chariot phantasos, a son of somnus, bringing strange images to sleeping men phaon, beloved by sappho phelot, knight of wales pheredin, friend of tristram, unhappy lover of isoude phidias, famous greek sculptor philemon, husband of baucis philoctetes, warrior who lighted the fatal pyre of hercules philoe, burial place of osiris phineus, betrothed to andromeda phlegethon, fiery river of hades phocis phoebe, one of the sisters of phaeton phoebus (apollo), god of music, prophecy, and archery, the sun god phoenix, a messenger to achilles, also, a miraculous bird dying in fire by its own act and springing up alive from its own ashes phorbas, a companion of aeneas, whose form was assumed by neptune in luring palinuras the helmsman from his roost phryxus, brother of helle pinabel, knight pillars of hercules, two mountains--calpe, now the rock of gibraltar, southwest corner of spain in europe, and abyla, facing it in africa across the strait pindar, famous greek poet pindus, grecian mountain pirene, celebrated fountain at corinth pirithous, king of the lapithae in thessaly, and friend of theseus, husband of hippodamia pleasure, daughter of cupid and psyche pleiades, seven of diana's nymphs, changed into stars, one being lost plenty, the horn of plexippus, brother of althea pliny, roman naturalist pluto, the same as hades, dis, etc. god of the infernal regions plutus, god of wealth po, italian river pole star polites, youngest son of priam of troy pollux, castor and (dioscuri, the twins) (see castor) polydectes, king of seriphus polydore, slain kinsman of aeneas, whose blood nourished a bush that bled when broken polyhymnia, muse of oratory and sacred song polyidus, soothsayer polynices, king of thebes polyphemus, giant son of neptune polyxena, daughter of king priam of troy pomona, goddess of fruit trees (see vertumnus) porrex and fer'rex, sons of leir, king of britain portunus, roman name for palaemon poseidon (neptune), ruler of the ocean precipice, threshold of helas hall prester john, a rumored priest or presbyter, a christian pontiff in upper asia, believed in but never found priam, king of troy priwen, arthur's shield procris, beloved but jealous wife of cephalus procrustes, who seized travellers and bound them on his iron bed, stretching the short ones and cutting short the tall, thus also himself served by theseus proetus, jealous of bellerophon prometheus, creator of man, who stole fire from heaven for man's use proserpine, the same as persephone, goddess of all growing things, daughter of ceres, carried off by pluto protesilaus, slain by hector the trojan, allowed by the gods to return for three hours' talk with his widow laodomia proteus, the old man of the sea prudence (metis), spouse of jupiter pryderi, son of pwyll psyche, a beautiful maiden, personification of the human soul, sought by cupid (love), to whom she responded, lost him by curiosity to see him (as he came to her only by night), but finally through his prayers was made immortal and restored to him, a symbol of immortality puranas, hindu scriptures pwyll, prince of dyved pygmalion, sculptor in love with a statue he had made, brought to life by venus, brother of queen dido pygmies, nation of dwarfs, at war with the cranes pylades, son of straphius, friend of orestes pyramus, who loved thisbe, next door neighbor, and, their parents opposing, they talked through cracks in the house wall, agreeing to meet in the near by woods, where pyramus, finding a bloody veil and thinking thisbe slain, killed himself, and she, seeing his body, killed herself (burlesqued in shakespeare's "midsummer night's dream") pyrrha, wife of deucalion pyrrhus (neoptolemus), son of achilles pythagoras, greek philosopher ( bc), who thought numbers to be the essence and principle of all things, and taught transmigration of souls of the dead into new life as human or animal beings pythia, priestess of apollo at delphi pythian games pythian oracle python, serpent springing from deluge slum, destroyed by apollo q quirinus (from quiris, a lance or spear), a war god, said to be romulus, founder of rome r rabican, noted horse ragnarok, the twilight (or ending) of the gods rajputs, minor hindu caste regan, daughter of leir regillus, lake in latium, noted for battle fought near by between the romans and the latins reggio, family from which rogero sprang remus, brother of romulus, founder of rome rhadamanthus, son of jupiter and europa after his death one of the judges in the lower world rhapsodist, professional reciter of poems among the greeks rhea, female titan, wife of saturn (cronos), mother of the chief gods, worshipped in greece and rome rhine, river rhine maidens, or daughters, three water nymphs, flosshilda, woglinda, and wellgunda, set to guard the nibelungen hoard, buried in the rhine rhodes, one of the seven cities claiming to be homer's birthplace rhodope, mountain in thrace rhongomyant, arthur's lance rhoecus, a youth, beloved by a dryad, but who brushed away a bee sent by her to call him to her, and she punished him with blindness rhiannon, wife of pwyll rinaldo, one of the bravest knights of charlemagne river ocean, flowing around the earth robert de beauvais', norman poet ( ) robin hood, famous outlaw in english legend, about time of richard coeur de lion rockingham, forest of rodomont, king of algiers rogero, noted saracen knight roland (orlando), see orlando romances romanus, legendary great grandson of noah rome romulus, founder of rome ron, arthur's lance ronces valles', battle of round table king arthur's instituted by merlin the sage for pendragon, arthur's father, as a knightly order, continued and made famous by arthur and his knights runic characters, or runes, alphabetic signs used by early teutonic peoples, written or graved on metal or stone rutulians, an ancient people in italy, subdued at an early period by the romans ryence, king in ireland s sabra, maiden for whom severn river was named, daughter of locrine and estrildis thrown into river severn by locrine's wife, transformed to a river nymph, poetically named sabrina sacripant, king of circassia saffire, sir, knight of arthur sagas, norse tales of heroism, composed by the skalds sagramour, knight of arthur st. michael's mount, precipitous pointed rock hill on the coast of brittany, opposite cornwall sakyasinha, the lion, epithet applied to buddha salamander, a lizard like animal, fabled to be able to live in fire salamis, grecian city salmoneus, son of aeolus and enarete and brother of sisyphus salomon, king of brittany, at charlemagne's court samhin, or "fire of peace," a druidical festival samian sage (pythagoras) samos, island in the aegean sea samothracian gods, a group of agricultural divinities, worshipped in samothrace samson, hebrew hero, thought by some to be original of hercules san greal (see graal, the holy) sappho, greek poetess, who leaped into the sea from promontory of leucadia in disappointed love for phaon saracens, followers of mahomet sarpedon, son of jupiter and europa, killed by patroclus saturn (cronos) saturnalia, a annual festival held by romans in honor of saturn saturnia, an ancient name of italy satyrs, male divinities of the forest, half man, half goat scaliger, famous german scholar of th century scandinavia, mythology of, giving account of northern gods, heroes, etc scheria, mythical island, abode of the phaeacians schrimnir, the boar, cooked nightly for the heroes of valhalla becoming whole every morning scio, one of the island cities claiming to be homer's birthplace scopas, king of thessaly scorpion, constellation scylla, sea nymph beloved by glaucus, but changed by jealous circe to a monster and finally to a dangerous rock on the sicilian coast, facing the whirlpool charybdis, many mariners being wrecked between the two, also, daughter of king nisus of megara, who loved minos, besieging her father's city, but he disliked her disloyalty and drowned her, also, a fair virgin of sicily, friend of sea nymph galatea scyros, where theseus was slain scythia, country lying north of euxine sea semele, daughter of cadmus and, by jupiter, mother of bacchus semiramis, with ninus the mythical founder of the assyrian empire of nineveh senapus, king of abyssinia, who entertained astolpho serapis, or hermes, egyptian divinity of tartarus and of medicine serfs, slaves of the land seriphus, island in the aegean sea, one of the cyclades serpent (northern constellation) sestos, dwelling of hero (which see also leander) "seven against thebes," famous greek expedition severn river, in england sevinus, duke of guienne shalott, the lady of shatriya, hindu warrior caste sherasmin, french chevalier sibyl, prophetess of cumae sichaeus, husband of dido seige perilous, the chair of purity at arthur's round table, fatal to any but him who was destined to achieve the quest of the sangreal (see galahad) siegfried, young king of the netherlands, husband of kriemhild, she boasted to brunhild that siegfried had aided gunther to beat her in athletic contests, thus winning her as wife, and brunhild, in anger, employed hagan to murder siegfried. as hero of wagner's "valkyrie," he wins the nibelungen treasure ring, loves and deserts brunhild, and is slain by hagan sieglinda, wife of hunding, mother of siegfried by siegmund siegmund, father of siegfried sigtryg, prince, betrothed of king alef's daughter, aided by hereward siguna, wife of loki silenus, a satyr, school master of bacchus silures (south wales) silvia, daughter of latin shepherd silvius, grandson of aeneas, accidentally killed in the chase by his son brutus simonides, an early poet of greece sinon, a greek spy, who persuaded the trojans to take the wooden horse into their city sirens, sea nymphs, whose singing charmed mariners to leap into the sea, passing their island, ulysses stopped the ears of his sailors with wax, and had himself bound to the mast so that he could hear but not yield to their music sirius, the dog of orion, changed to the dog star sisyphus, condemned in tartarus to perpetually roll up hill a big rock which, when the top was reached, rolled down again siva, the destroyer, third person of the hindu triad of gods skalds, norse bards and poets skidbladnir, freyr's ship skirnir, frey's messenger, who won the god's magic sword by getting him gerda for his wife skrymir, a giant, utgard loki in disguise, who fooled thor in athletic feats skuld, the norn of the future sleep, twin brother of death sleipnir, odin's horse sobrino, councillor to agramant somnus, child of nox, twin brother of mors, god of sleep sophocles, greek tragic dramatist south wind see notus spar'ta, capital of lacedaemon sphinx, a monster, waylaying the road to thebes and propounding riddles to all passers, on pain of death, for wrong guessing, who killed herself in rage when aedipus guessed aright spring stonehenge, circle of huge upright stones, fabled to be sepulchre of pendragon strophius, father of pylades stygian realm, hades stygian sleep, escaped from the beauty box sent from hades to venus by hand of psyche, who curiously opened the box and was plunged into unconsciousness styx, river, bordering hades, to be crossed by all the dead sudras, hindu laboring caste surtur, leader of giants against the gods in the day of their destruction (norse mythology) surya, hindu god of the sun, corresponding to the greek helios sutri, orlando's birthplace svadilfari, giant's horse swan, leda and sybaris, greek city in southern italy, famed for luxury sylvanus, latin divinity identified with pan symplegades, floating rocks passed by the argonauts syrinx, nymph, pursued by pan, but escaping by being changed to a bunch of reeds (see pandean pipes) t tacitus, roman historian taenarus, greek entrance to lower regions tagus, river in spain and portugal taliesin, welsh bard tanais, ancient name of river don tantalus, wicked king, punished in hades by standing in water that retired when he would drink, under fruit trees that withdrew when he would eat tarchon, etruscan chief tarentum, italian city tarpeian rock, in rome, from which condemned criminals were hurled tarquins, a ruling family in early roman legend tauris, grecian city, site of temple of diana (see iphigenia) taurus, a mountain tartarus, place of confinement of titans, etc, originally a black abyss below hades later, represented as place where the wicked were punished, and sometimes the name used as synonymous with hades teirtu, the harp of telamon, greek hero and adventurer, father of ajax telemachus, son of ulysses and penelope tellus, another name for rhea tenedos, an island in aegean sea terminus, roman divinity presiding over boundaries and frontiers terpsichore, muse of dancing terra, goddess of the earth tethys, goddess of the sea teucer, ancient king of the trojans thalia, one of the three graces thamyris, thracian bard, who challenged the muses to competition in singing, and, defeated, was blinded thaukt, loki disguised as a hag thebes, city founded by cadmus and capital of boeotia themis, female titan, law counsellor of jove theodora, sister of prince leo theron, one of diana's dogs thersites, a brawler, killed by achilles thescelus, foe of perseus, turned to stone by sight of gorgon's head theseum, athenian temple in honor of theseus theseus, son of aegeus and aethra, king of athens, a great hero of many adventures thessaly thestius, father of althea thetis, mother of achilles thialfi, thor's servant this'be, babylonian maiden beloved by pyramus thor, the thunderer, of norse mythology, most popular of the gods thrace thrina'kia, island pasturing hyperion's cattle, where ulysses landed, but, his men killing some cattle for food, their ship was wrecked by lightning thrym, giant, who buried thor's hammer thucydides, greek historian tiber, river flowing through rome tiber, father, god of the river tigris, river tintadel, castle of, residence of king mark of cornwall tiresias, a greek soothsayer tisiphone, one of the furies titans, the sons and daughters of uranus (heaven) and gaea (earth), enemies of the gods and overcome by them tithonus, trojan prince tityus, giant in tartarus tmolus, a mountain god tortoise, second avatar of vishnu tours, battle of (see abdalrahman and charles martel) toxeus, brother of melauger's mother, who snatched from atalanta her hunting trophy, and was slain by melauger, who had awarded it to her triad, the hindu triads, welsh poems trimurti, hindu triad triptol'emus, son of celeus , and who, made great by ceres, founded her worship in eleusis tristram, one of arthur's knights, husband of isoude of the white hands, lover of isoude the fair, triton, a demi god of the sea, son of poseidon (neptune) and amphitrite troezen, greek city of argolis trojan war trojanova, new troy, city founded in britain (see brutus, and lud) trophonius, oracle of, in boeotia troubadours, poets and minstrels of provence, in southern france trouvers', poets and minstrels of northern france troy, city in asia minor, ruled by king priam, whose son, paris, stole away helen, wife of menelaus the greek, resulting in the trojan war and the destruction of troy troy, fall of turnus, chief of the rutulianes in italy, unsuccessful rival of aeneas for lavinia turpin, archbishop of rheims turquine, sir, a great knight, foe of arthur, slain by sir launcelot typhon, one of the giants who attacked the gods, were defeated, and imprisoned under mt. aetna tyr, norse god of battles tyre, phoenician city governed by dido tyrians tyrrheus, herdsman of king turnus in italy, the slaying of whose daughter's stag aroused war upon aeneas and his companions u uberto, son of galafron ulysses (greek, odysseus), hero of the odyssey unicorn, fabled animal with a single horn urania, one of the muses, a daughter of zeus by mnemosyne urdur, one of the norns or fates of scandinavia, representing the past usk, british river utgard, abode of the giant utgard loki utgard lo'ki, king of the giants (see skrymir) uther (uther pendragon), king of britain and father of arthur, uwaine, knight of arthur's court v vaissyas, hindu caste of agriculturists and traders valhalla, hall of odin, heavenly residence of slain heroes valkyrie, armed and mounted warlike virgins, daughters of the gods (norse), odin's messengers, who select slain heroes for valhalla and serve them at their feasts ve, brother of odin vedas, hindu sacred scriptures venedotia, ancient name for north wales venus (aphrodite), goddess of beauty venus de medici, famous antique statue in uffizi gallery, florence, italy verdandi, the present, one of the norns vertumnus, god of the changing seasons, whose varied appearances won the love of pomona vesta, daughter of cronos and rhea, goddess of the homefire, or hearth vestals, virgin priestesses in temple of vesta vesuvius, mount, volcano near naples villains, peasants in the feudal scheme vigrid, final battle-field, with destruction of the gods ind their enemies, the sun, the earth, and time itself vili, brother of odin and ve virgil, celebrated latin poet (see aeneid) virgo, constellation of the virgin, representing astraea, goddess of innocence and purity vishnu, the preserver, second of the three chief hindu gods viviane, lady of magical powers, who allured the sage merlin and imprisoned him in an enchanted wood volscens, rutulian troop leader who killed nisus and euryalus volsung, a saga, an icelandic poem, giving about the same legends as the nibelungen lied vortigern, usurping king of britain, defeated by pendragon , vulcan (greek, haephestus), god of fire and metal working, with forges under aetna, husband of venus vya'sa, hindu sage w wain, the, constellation wellgunda, one of the rhine-daughters welsh language western ocean winds, the winter woden, chief god in the norse mythology, anglo saxon for odin woglinda, one of the rhine-daughters woman, creation of wooden horse, the, filled with armed men, but left outside of troy as a pretended offering to minerva when the greeks feigned to sail away, accepted by the trojans (see sinon, and laocoon), brought into the city, and at night emptied of the hidden greek soldiers, who destroyed the town wood nymphs wotan, old high german form of odin x xanthus, river of asia minor y yama, hindu god of the infernal regions year, the ygdrasil, great ash-tree, supposed by norse mythology to support the universe ymir, giant, slain by odin ynywl, earl, host of geraint, father of enid york, britain yserone, niece of arthur, mother of caradoc yspa da den pen'kawr, father of olwen z zendavesta, persian sacred scriptures zephyrus, god of the south wind, zerbino, a knight, son of the king of scotland zetes, winged warrior, companion of theseus zethus, son of jupiter and antiope, brother of amphion. see dirce zeus, see jupiter zoroaster, founder of the persian religion, which was dominant in western asia from about bc to about ad, and is still held by many thousands in persia and in india transcriber's note: a few typographical errors have been corrected: they are listed at the end of the text. * * * * * heathen mythology: illustrated by extracts from the most celebrated writers, both ancient and modern, on the gods of greece, rome, india, scandinavia, etc. etc. [illustration] and embellished with nearly two hundred engravings. after designs by m. baron. * * * * * london: willoughby & co., , warwick lane; and , smithfield. * * * * * london: printed by willoughby & co., , smithfield. * * * * * [illustration] {v} preface. ------ upon a subject which has occupied the thoughts, and employed the pens of our most profound thinkers, and our ablest writers, it is perhaps difficult to say much that is likely to interest the reader, without the chance of being irksome from its proving a thrice told tale: and yet the subject is in itself so interesting, and so intimately connected with all that is most fascinating to our remembrances, and so blended with all that reminds us of departed greatness, that it is scarcely possible to pass it coldly by, or to speak in the language of others those ideas which excite our own imaginations. there was something very pleasing and very poetical in the thought, that each river had its nymph, and every wood its god: that a visible power watched over even the domestic duties of the people, ready to punish or reward; and that, too in a manner so strange and immediate, that it must have greatly affected their minds in stimulating to good, or deterring from evil. they were, indeed, the days of "visible poetry;" the "young hunter," in the pursuit of his favourite sport, might image to his mind the form and figure of diana, accompanying him in the chase, not perhaps without a holy fear lest she should become visible to him, and the fate of acteon should prove to be his. {vi} the lover, as he sought the presence of his mistress, might, in his enamoured idea of her beauty, fancy that his idolatry was a real one, and that he wooed venus in the form of a mortal: or, in the tremor which then as now pervaded the lover's bosom, he might fear that jove himself would prove a rival, and, swan-like, or in some other as picturesque a form, win her he sought for his own: and thus, every class of society, from the patrician to the peasant, must have been imbued with feelings which, while they believed them to be religious, we regard but as poetical. leigh hunt, who has said many things upon mythology, quite as beautiful as his subject, remarks:-- "from having a different creed of our own, and always encountering the heathen mythology in a poetical and fabulous shape, we are apt to have a false idea of the religious feeling of the ancients. we are in the habit of supposing, that they regarded their fables in the same poetical light as ourselves; that they could not possibly put faith in jupiter, neptune, and pluto; in the sacrifice of innocent turtle doves, the libation of wine, and the notions about tartarus and ixion. "the greatest pleasure arising to a modern imagination from the ancient mythology, is in a mingled sense of the old popular belief, and of the philosophical refinements upon it. we take apollo, and mercury and venus, as shapes that existed in popular credulity, as the greater fairies of the ancient world: and we regard them, at the same time, as personifications of all that is beautiful and genial in the forms and tendencies of creation. but the result, coming, as it does too, through avenues of beautiful poetry, both ancient and modern, is so entirely cheerful, that we are apt to think it must have wanted gravity to more believing eyes. every forest, to the mind's eye of a greek, was haunted with superior intelligences. every stream had its presiding nymph, who was thanked for her draught of water. every house had its protecting gods which had blessed the inmate's ancestors; and which would bless him {vii} also, if he cultivated the social affections: for the same word which expressed piety towards the gods, expressed love towards relations and friends. if in all this there was nothing but the worship of a more graceful humanity, there may be worships much worse as well as better. "imagine the feelings with which an ancient believer must have gone by the oracular oaks of dodona, or the calm groves of the eumenides, or the fountain where proserpine vanished under ground with pluto; or the laurelled mountain parnassus, on the side of which was the temple of delphi, where apollo was supposed to be present in person. imagine plutarch, a devout and yet a liberal believer, when he went to study theology and philosophy at delphi: with what feelings must he not have passed along the woody paths of the hill, approaching nearer every instant to the presence of the divinity, and not sure that a glance of light through the trees was not the lustre of the god himself going by. this is mere poetry to us, and very fine it is; but to him it was poetry, and religion, and beauty, and gravity and hushing awe, and a path as from one world to another." g. moir bussey has also observed, with much elegance and feeling:--"the mythology of the ancients is one long romance in itself, full of poetry and passion--a mysterious compound of supernatural wonders and of human thoughts and feelings. it entrances us by its marvels in childhood; and in manhood we ponder over it, if not with the same rapturous delight as formerly, yet at least with such a sense of pleasure as that inspired by the perusal of a magnificent poem--the product of immortal mind--refreshing, invigorating, exalting. beauty and strength--the might of man, and the majesty and sublimity of the misunderstood intelligences of the godhead, not only constituted the worship of the greeks of old, but governed their lives, their actions, their laws, and the very aspirations of their hearts. they aimed at excellence in the highest, in order that their statues might be installed in their national temples as {viii} those of demi-gods, and the struggle brought them sufficient knowledge and energy to win deathless renown among men. all that they achieved, all that they meditated, bespeaks the soaring of a race bent upon conquering every obstacle--natural or artificial--which stood between them and absolute perfection, whether in legislation, in philosophy, in art, in science, in literature, in poetry, in war, or in dominion." the reality of an every day world has now set its seal upon all that delighted the days of our youth, and would even arouse us from our reveries on this most charming of subjects: we will conclude with the words of barry cornwall-- "oh! ye delicious fables, where the wave, and wood, were peopled; and the air, with things so lovely--why, ah! why has science grave scattered afar your secret imaginings? why seared the delicate flowers that genius gave, and dash the diamond drops from fancy's wings. alas! the spirit languishes and lies at mercy of life's dull realities. "no more by well or bubbling fountain clear the naiad dries her tresses in the sun, nor longer may we in the branches hear the dryad talk, nor see the oread run along the mountains, nor the nereid steer her way among the waves when day is done. shadows nor shape remain--" * * * * * { } [illustration] heathen mythology. introduction. in the earlier part of the history of nations, mythology has always been found to exist; imaginary beings have been adored, and a system of worship established, which, though imperfect in itself, was satisfactory to those, who, looking beyond the abstract circumstance of its idolatry, discovered the grand truth, that however rude, and however barbarous the people, there was a principle evidently acknowledged in their actions, of the necessity of a supreme being; and a feeling, of which they could not dispossess themselves, that a divine being watched over, and was the rewarder of their good, or the punisher of their evil deeds. the priests of phoenicia and egypt were the origin of the elements of this profane faith, and through their means, its transmission may be traced to the greeks, who, after adopting, purified, or at least assisted in greatly refining it, before its reception by the romans who multiplied their gods in about the same degree that their vices increased; while their armies, which overran the { } world, doubtless gave to the scandanavians and the gauls their ideas of the faith of odin; and the fables of the hindoos, and those of the american people, must be ascribed to the same source. it has been with many an endeavour to trace, in the mythologies of various nations, a resemblance to the more holy histories of our own faith; and they assert that, in many of the fables with which we are familiar, are to be traced the types or symbols of part of that revelation which is the ground-work of our own belief. but this is, at best, so vague and shadowy, that its inculcators get lost in their own inventions, and their followers scarcely comprehend the assertions they are called on implicitly to believe. with this we have nothing to do; the object of the present work being the endeavour to offer a brief and succinct history of those gods whose adventures have created most interest, and by means of them to give an additional zest to the perusal of the great poets and writers of antiquity, whose works are either founded on these actual adventures, or abound with allusions to them, and without the knowledge of which, it may be asserted, that the mind is scarcely able to do justice to them any more than to modern writers, since the works of the latter teem with images drawn from classical subjects. nor indeed is this to be wondered at, when we consider the various subjects connected with fable; and in this view of our subject we are borne out by a distinguished writer in the following elegant remarks: "men of a phlegmatic disposition," observes dr. turner, "or of a censorious temper, never cease to rail against the delightful fictions with which homer and hesiod, and their poetical imitators, have enriched and embellished their works; but although these fictions did not contain many useful instructions, and important truths, would there be any reason to attack and destroy a system, which peoples and animates nature, and which makes a solemn temple of the vast universe? these flowers, whose varied and shining beauty you so much admire, are the tears of aurora. it is the breath of zephyrus which gently agitates the leaves. the soft murmurings of the waters are the sighs of the naiades. a god impels the wind; a god pours out the rivers; grapes are the gift of bacchus; ceres presides over the harvest; orchards are the care of pomona. does a shepherd sound his reed on the summit of a mountain, it is pan, who with his pastoral pipe returns the amorous lay. { } "when the sportsman's horn rouses the attentive ear, it is diana, armed with her bow and quiver, and more nimble than the stag that she pursues, who takes the diversion of the chase. the sun is a god, who, riding in a car of fire, diffuses his light through the world; the stars are so many divinities, who measure with their golden beams the regular progress of time; the moon presides over the silence of night, and consoles the world for the absence of her brother. neptune reigns in the sea, surrounded by the naiades, who dance to the joyous shells of the tritons. in the highest heaven is seated jupiter, master and father of men and gods. under his feet roll the thunders, in the caverns of etna, forged by the cyclops; his smile rejoices nature; and his nods shakes the foundation of olympus. surrounding the throne of their sovereign, the other divinities quaff nectar, from a cup presented them by the young and beautiful hebe. in the middle of the great circle shines, with distinguished lustre, the unrivalled beauty of venus, alone adorned with a splendid girdle in which the graces for ever play, and in her hand is a smiling boy whose power is universally acknowledged by heaven and earth. sweet illusions of the fancy! pleasing errors of the mind! what objects of pity are those cold and insensible hearts who have never felt your charms! and what objects of pity and indignation those fierce and savage spirits, who would destroy a world that has so long been the treasury of the arts! a world, imaginary indeed, but delightful, and whose ideal pleasures are so well fitted to compensate for the real troubles and miseries of the world in which we live." if we turn to a still higher authority (and we acknowledge that the subject has been treated of so often and in so masterly a style by men of whom the world was scarcely worthy, that we are willing rather to present their mature opinions, than to obtrude our own) we shall find that lord bacon treats upon the subject in a manner which maintains his high character as a profound thinker. "i am not ignorant," he says, "how uncertain fiction is, and how liable to be wrested to this or that sense, nor how prevalent wit and discourse are, so as ingeniously to apply such meanings as were not thought of originally; but let not the follies and license of a few lessen the esteem due to parables; for that would be profane and bold, since religion delights in such veils and shadows: but, reflecting on human wisdom, i ingenuously confess my real opinion is, that { } mystery and allegory were from the original intended in many fables of the ancient poets, this appears apt and conspicuous to me; whether ravished with a veneration for antiquity, or because i find such coherence in the similitude with the things signified, in the very texture of the fable, and in the propriety of the names which are given to the persons or actors in the fables; and no man can positively deny that this was the sense proposed from the beginning, and industriously veiled in this manner.... no one should be moved, if he sometimes finds any addition for the sake of history, or by way of embellishment; or if chronology should happen to be confounded, or if part of one fable should be transferred to another, and a new allegory introduced: for these were all necessary, and to be expected, seeing they are the inventions of men of different ages, and who writ to different ends; some with a view to the nature of things and others to civil affairs. we have another sign, and that no small one, of this hidden sense which we have been speaking of, which is that some of these fables are in the narration so foolish and absurd, that they seem to claim a parable at a distance. such as are probable may be feigned for amusement, and in imitation of history; but where no such designs appear, but they seem to be what none would imagine or relate, they must be calculated for other uses. what has a great weight with me is, that many of these fables seem not to be invented by those who have related them, homer, hesiod, and other writers; for were they the fictions of that age and of those who delivered them down to us, nothing great and exalted, according to my opinion, could be expected from such an origin; but if any one will deliberate on this subject attentively, these will appear to be delivered and related as what were before believed and received, and not as tales then first invented and communicated; besides, as they are told in different manners, by authors of almost the same times, they are easily perceived to be common, and derived from old tradition, and are various only from the additional embellishments diverse writers have bestowed on them.... the wisdom of the ancients was either great or happy, great if these figures were the fruits of their industry; and happy if they looked no further, that they have afforded matter and occasion so worthy of contemplation." * * * * * { } the divinities of fable. ------ the stars were the first recipients of the homage of mankind; and thus heaven is the most ancient of the gods. as the world increased they deified heroes. the gods of the ancients were divided into many classes. the principal, or gods of the first order, amounted to twenty, viz:--jupiter, juno, neptune, ceres, mercury, minerva, vesta, apollo, diana, venus, mars, vulcan, destiny, saturn, genius, pluto, bacchus, love, cybele, and proserpine. besides these more important ones, they had others, such as chaos; which did not belong to any particular class, and which were not the object of any faith. "before the seas, and this terrestrial ball, and heaven's high canopy, that covers all, one was the face of nature--if a face; rather a rude and indigested mass; a lifeless lump, unfashioned and unframed, of jarring seeds; and justly chaos named. no sun was lighted up, the world to view; no moon did yet her blunted horns renew; nor yet was earth suspended in the sky; nor poised, did on her own foundations lie; nor seas about their shores the arms had thrown; but earth, and air, and water were in one. thus air was void of light, and earth unstable, and waters dark abyss unnavigable. no certain form on any was imprest; all were confused, and each disturbed the rest. for hot and cold were in one body fix'd; and soft with hard, and light with heavy mix'd. but god, or nature, while they thus contend, to these intestine discords put an end: then earth from air, and seas from earth were driven, and grosser air sunk from ethereal heaven. the force of fire ascended first on high, and took its dwelling in the vaulted sky: then air succeeds, in lightness next to fire; whose atoms from unactive earth retire. earth sinks beneath, and draws a numerous throng of ponderous, thick, unwieldy seeds along. about her coasts unruly waters roar, and, rising on a ridge, insult the shore. thus when the god, whatever god was he, had formed the whole, and made the parts agree, that no unequal portions might be found, he moulded earth into a spacious round: then, with a breath, he gave the winds to blew; and bade the congregated waters flow: { } he adds the running springs, and standing lakes, and bounding banks for winding rivers makes. some part in earth are swallowed up; the most in ample oceans disembogued, are lost: he shades the woods, the valleys he restrains with rocky mountains, and extends the plains. and as five zones the ethereal regions bind, five, correspondent, are to earth assigned: the sun with rays, directly darting down, fires all beneath, and fries the middle zone: the two beneath the distant poles, complain of endless winter, and perpetual rain." ovid. chaos is often mentioned in the history of the gods, but seems only to have had a momentary reign. he is the most ancient of all, for he presided over the elements that composed the universe. he is usually represented at the moment that he assigned to each element its place. to create the light of day, he repelled all the dark and thick clouds, and then formed the zodiac, glittering with stars above his head. [illustration] the poetic idea of chaos is found in sacred history, in the creation, as well as in all mythology, where we see the names of bramah, vishnu, and siva. * * * * * { } uranus, or heaven. ------ uranus, or heaven, was the day. espousing his sister titæa, from their union sprang the titans, those giants of antiquity who occupy so important a position in the annals of fable. of these children of the earth the principal were titan, saturn, and hyperion, of the males; whilst among the females were comprised thea, rhea, themis, and mnemosyne. after this titæa bore the cyclops, three of whom became servants to vulcan, forging, under his direction, the thunderbolts of the great jove; while the remainder wandered around the coast, leading the lives of shepherds. "three sons are sprung from heaven and earth's embrace, the cyclops bold, in heart a haughty race, brontes and steropes, and arges brave, who to the hands of jove the thunder gave; they for almighty power did lightning frame, all equal to the gods themselves in fame; one eye was placed (a large round orb, and bright) amidst their forehead to receive the light; hence were they cyclops called." hesiod. [illustration] uranus, however, as time passed, began to fear lest the offspring, which rose to such gigantic strength, should dethrone him; and by his power he threw them down an abyss, into which the light of day could never penetrate. this tyranny, however, only ripened the spirit of rebellion which he feared, and their frightful confinement but urged them to greater efforts to escape. they all arose against him, but were compelled to yield after a desperate struggle { } for supremacy; while rebellion brought its accustomed curse in heavier chains and more rigorous captivity, to all save saturn, who, led by ambition and vengeance, and assisted by his mother in his schemes, dethroned his sire, usurped his empire, and delivered his brethren. the defeated monarch fell beneath his son's parricidal hand; and from the blood thus shed sprang the giants and the furies, rendering fruitful also the foam of the sea, of which was born venus aphrodite. [illustration] * * * * * saturn. ------ by right of succession the sceptre of uranus belonged to titan, the eldest of the sons of the murdered monarch. ---- "titan, heaven's first born, with his enormous brood, and birthright seized by younger saturn; he from mightier jove his own and rhea's son like measure found * * * * * * ---- or who with saturn old fled over adria to the hesperian fields, and o'er the celtic roamed the utmost isles." milton. [illustration: the dance of the corybantes.] { } compelled to renounce his claim in favour of saturn, who delivered them all from their confinement; but with the condition that whatever children might be born to him, should be destroyed. saturn, faithful to his promise, swallowed, at their birth, all the male children brought to him by his wife cybele. but a mother's yearning for her offspring, appears to have filled even the breast of a goddess; and when delivered of jupiter and juno, she placed a stone instead of the newly-born, in the arms of the god, habited in an infant's dress. [illustration] ---- "jealous of the infant's future power, a stone the mother gave him to devour; greedy he seized the imaginary child, and swallowed heedless, by the dress beguiled; nor thought the wretched god of aught to fear, nor knew the day of his disgrace was near; invincible remains his jove alive, his throne to shake, and from his kingdom drive the cruel parent; for to him 'tis given to rule the gods, and mount the throne of heaven." hesiod. saturn devoured this, as he had the previous offerings; and emboldened by her success, cybele delivered in the same manner pluto and neptune, and afterwards, by administering a potion, compelled him to yield up those he had already swallowed. jupiter, the first whom the goddess had saved by her artifice, was brought up secretly in the isle of crete, by the corybantes, or warrior priests, who, making a deafening noise with their drums and cymbals, prevented for a period the cries of the infant from reaching the ears of titan: when, however, the latter discovered, as he eventually did, that his hopes had been deceived, and his { } agreement broken, he assembled an army, marched against saturn, (who by this time was made aware of the deception, but refused to destroy his children), took him prisoner, and threw him into tartarus, from whence he was delivered by jupiter, and replaced upon his throne. but the fears of saturn rendered him ungrateful to his deliverer, for destiny having prophesied that saturn should be dethroned by his son, the god attacked jupiter in ambush, and finished, by declaring open war against him. jupiter, however, again proved conqueror, chasing from heaven his father and his king, who took refuge in that part of italy known as latium; janus, monarch of this city of refuge, succoured and received him, and saturn, to recompense his hospitality, granted to him the gift of memory, and of looking into the future. from this cause, janus is represented with a double face. the time which saturn passed on earth is known as the age of gold. "ere saturn's rebel son usurped the skies; when beasts were only slain in sacrifice; while peaceful crete enjoyed her ancient lord; ere sounding hammers forged the inhuman sword; ere hollow drums were beat; before the breath of brazen trumpets rung the peals of death, the good old god his hunger did assuage with roots and herbs, and gave the _golden age_." virgil. ------ "the golden age was first; when man yet new, no rule but uncorrupted reason knew, and with a native bent did good pursue! unforced by punishment, unawed by fear, his words were simple, and his soul sincere. needless was written law, when none oppressed, the law of man was written in his breast; no suppliant crowds before the judge appeared, no court erected yet, nor cause was heard; but all was safe, for conscience was their guard: the mountain trees in distant prospects please, ere yet the pine descended to the seas; ere sails were spread new oceans to explore, and happy mortals unconcerned for more, confined their wishes to their native shore: no walls were yet, nor fence, nor moat, nor mound, nor drum was heard, nor trumpets' angry sound; nor swords were forged, but void of care or crime, the soft creation slept away their time; the teeming earth, yet guiltless of the plough, and unprovoked did fruitful stores allow; { } content with food, which nature freely bred, on wildings and on strawberries they fed: the flowers unsown in fields and meadows reigned, and western winds immortal spring maintained; in following years the bearded corn ensued, from earth unasked, nor was that earth renewed; from veins of valleys, milk and nectar broke, and honey sweating thro' the pores of oak." ovid. from the gaieties and fêtes which then took place arose the name of saturnalia, or fêtes of saturn, which lasted three, four, and five days, and took place in december. all work was stayed, friend interchanged gifts with friend, the preparations for war and the execution of criminals were alike suspended, while masters waited on their slaves at table, in remembrance of the ideas of liberty and equality, which existed in ancient days. janus was represented supported by a staff, with a key in his hand, as he was believed to be the inventor of doors and of locks. from his name came the month of january. he worshipped at twelve altars, to represent the twelve months; and wore occasionally four faces, as tokens of the four seasons of the year. at rome, in which his temple was placed, it was open in the time of war, and shut during that of peace. saturn, or time, is represented sometimes on a flying chariot, and sometimes on a throne, under the figure of an old and bearded man, severe in aspect, thin and yet robust, his eyes marked by a stern light; a veil on his head, and a serpent round his waist; while in his hand he carries a harp. in later times he is represented with a scythe. "unfathomable sea! whose waves are years; ocean of time, whose waters of deep woe are brackish with the salt of human tears; thou shoreless flood, which in thy ebb and flow claspest the limits of mortality! and sick of prey, yet howling on for more, vomitest wrecks on its inhospitable shore. treacherous in calm and terrible in storm, who shall put forth on thee, unfathomable sea?" shelley. with his scythe and with his wings, our eyes are familiar, as, to the present day, he is never drawn without these accompaniments. { } "to one that marks the quick and certain round of year on year, and finds that every day brings its grey hair, or bears a leaf away from the full glory with which life is crowned, ere youth becomes a shade, and fame a sound: surely to one that feels his foot on sand unsure, the bright and ever visible hand of time, points far above the lowly bound of pride that perishes: and leads the eye to loftier objects and diviner ends; a tranquil strength, sublime humility, a knowledge of ourselves, a faith in friends, a sympathy for all things born to die, with cheerful love for those whom truth attends." laman blanchard. [illustration] this fable is easy of explanation. time is the child of heaven and earth; he has wings because he flies rapidly, a scythe because he destroys all, an hour-glass to measure his course equally; and the serpent is the symbol of eternity, which has neither a beginning nor an end. he slew his father, because, the world and time once created, he could exist no longer; he devoured his infants because time destroys all, and he threw them from his stomach because time returns with the years and days; and this part of the fable is also an image of the operations which nature accomplishes under the influence of time. he did not devour jupiter, as he represents the celestial regions, nor juno, she being the prototype of the air: time, mighty and all-destroying as he is, having no influence over the elements. * * * * * { } cybele, vesta. ------ this goddess was the daughter of uranus, being the sister and wife of saturn. as soon as she was born, she was exposed on a mountain, but being preserved and suckled by some of the wild beasts of the forest, she received the name of cybele from the mountain where her life had been preserved. she is called also the ancient vesta, to distinguish her from her daughter vesta, who, with her mother, is also called cybele. but the deity of whom we now write is the earth, and is easy to distinguish from her daughter. in several temples of the ancients, the statues of cybele were only a piece of stone, meant to represent the stability of the earth. this great goddess saw and became enamoured of a shepherd, who repulsed her affection, being in love with a mortal nymph; and rather than submit to the tyrannical passion of cybele, he is said to have destroyed himself, and the goddess metamorphosed him into a pine-tree. [illustration] in the mythology of every country, this deity is found, though under various names. she is represented with keys in her hand, her head crowned with rising turrets, and sometimes with the leaves { } of an oak. she is also seen with many breasts, to intimate that the earth gives aliment to all living creatures. to her daughter, who presided over the fiery element, numa pompilius consecrated an altar, where virgins, named vestals, maintained perpetual fire. at delphi and at athens the priestesses were not virgins, as at the other temples, but widows who were past the time of marriage. [illustration] it was the employment of the vestals to take care that the sacred fire of vesta was not extinguished, for if it ever happened, it was deemed the prognostic of great calamities to the state: the offender was punished for negligence, and severely scourged by the high priest. the privileges of the vestals were great: they had the most honourable seats at the public games and festivals, a lictor preceded them when they walked in public; they were carried in chariots when they pleased, and had the power of pardoning criminals if they encountered them on the way to execution, and the meeting was declared to be purely accidental. such of them as forgot their vow, were placed in a large hole under the earth, where a bed was placed, with a little bread, wine, { } oil, and a lighted lamp: the guilty vestal was stripped of the habit of her order, and compelled to descend into the subterranean cavity, which was immediately shut, and she was left to die of hunger. _vestal._ spare me! oh spare! _priest._ speak not, polluted one. _vestal._ yet spare me! _priest._ thou pleadst in vain--thy destiny is fixed. _vestal._ mercy--oh! mercy; tho' my sin be great, life is so beautiful i cannot die; and earth seems smiling with intenser light, and flowers give forth an odour ever new, the stars look brighter still than when of old i watched them fading from the mountain top: earth, sky and air, are all so beautiful, i cannot, dare not, will not, think of death! _priest._ it is thy doom! thy living grave is near. thou hast despoiled the goddess of her due, the vow thou gavest to her thou hast broken, and thou must pay the awful penalty! _vestal._ the grave--a living grave--thou meanst it not-- to ope my eyes in th' ever during dark, to breathe a thick and frightful atmosphere, drawn from my sighs and dampened with my tears! _priest._ the gods demand their victim! _vestal._ 'tis blasphemy to think it; oh! if thou ever knew'st a father's love, a mother's sigh, a sister's soft caress, if but one human sympathy be left, pardon, oh! pardon! _priest._ cling not around me, girl, touch, touch me not; the power to pardon lieth not in man. thy hour hath come. _vestal, (clasping him)._ i will not quit thee; thou art a man with human sympathies; madness will touch my brain; i cannot, will not yield. grant me some other death: poison or steel, or aught that sends me suddenly from earth; but to be wrapt in clay, and yet not of it, to feel the earth crumbling around my brow, to scent its foul and noisome atmosphere, is more than frail mortality can bear. anon. [illustration] { } jupiter. ------ the nymphs of mount ida, to whom cybele had confided her son, educated him with great care; but his cries being likely to call the attention of saturn and titan, the priests invented a dance accompanied with noise, called the dactyl, in which they interchanged blows on steel bucklers. his nourishment was received from a goat, who was afterwards placed among the heavenly constellations, having given his skin to form a shield, and one of his horns, which was presented to the nymphs, and named the horn of plenty. as jupiter emerged from infancy, we have seen he had to strive with the titans, who disputed with him the right to reign in heaven. the first of their feats was to heap mountain on mountain in order to scale the walls of heaven; they then threw fragments of rocks and burning trees against "high olympus." "but vainly came typhæus on, and vainly huge porphyrion, fierce rhoetus of the vengeful stroke, and minias strong as mountain oak, with bold encelædas, to heaven who strove to dart the trees, uprooted, from the grove: for weak their might against the shield which pallas' matchless arm did wield; while quick against the giant foes juno, and ardent vulcan, rose; and to the fight the young apollo sped, glittering afar with bows and arrows dread, who bathing in castalian dew, his tresses loose of golden hue, rejoicing in his youth is seen amid the lycian valleys green, or in the delian groves will sport oftwhile amid the flowers that deck his native isle." horace. the gods at first defended themselves with great courage, but at the appearance of the hundred-headed typhon, all, save bacchus, sought safety in flight, and hid themselves in egypt, where they obtained refuge under various forms: from the different disguises they then assumed, may be traced the worship rendered by the egyptians to both animals and vegetables. { } typhon, who thus, by his mere appearance, seemed to turn the tide of war, is thus described: ----------------"typhon, whose hands of strength are fitted to tremendous deeds; and indefatigable are the feet of the strong god: and from his shoulders rise a hundred snaky heads of dragon growth." hesiod. notwithstanding the dire appearance of this monster, bacchus fought bravely against the foes of heaven, and took the form of a lion, while animated by the cries of jupiter, who shouted "courage, courage!" his bravery turned the tide of war. "and now the murmur of incitement flies, all ranged in martial order, through the skies; here jove above the rest conspicuous shined, in valour equal to his strength his mind; erect and dauntless see the thunderer stand, the bolts red hissing from his vengeful hand; he walks majestic round the starry frame; and now the lightnings from olympus flame. the earth wide blazes with the fires of jove, nor the flash spares the verdure of the grove." hesiod. the invaders, at length, were overthrown, and crushed beneath the mountains which they themselves had prepared to execute their vengeance on jupiter. many times, though vainly, the titans sought to avenge their defeat; and olympus, from this time, was only troubled by internal dissensions. --------------"the bruised titans mourned within a den where no insulting light could glimmer on their tears; where their own groans they felt, but heard not; hard flint they sat upon, couches of rugged stone and slaty ridge, stubborned with iron. coeus and gyges and briareus, with many more, the brawniest in assault, were pent in regions of laborious breath; dungeoned in opague element to keep their clenched teeth still clenched, and all their limbs locked up like veins of metal cramped and screwed: without a motion save of their big hearts, heaving in pain." keats' hyperion. after his victory, jupiter, who had driven saturn from heaven, and was in consequence its undisputed king, espoused juno his sister. { } the commencement of their union was a happy one, and was called the age of silver, being an era of virtue, less pure, however, than that of the age of gold. "but when good saturn banished from above was driven to hell, the world was under jove. succeeding times a silver age behold, excelling brass, but more excelled by gold; then summer, autumn, winter did appear, and spring was but a season of the year. the sun his annual course obliquely made, good days contracted and enlarged the bad. then air with sultry heat began to glow; the wings of winds were clogged with ice and snow; and shivering mortals into houses driven, sought shelter from the inclemency of heaven. those houses then were caves or homely sheds, with twining osiers fenced, and moss their beds: then ploughs for seed the fruitful farrows broke, and oxen laboured first beneath the yoke." ovid. nor was crime long in making its appearance. hyacon, king of arcadia, violated all the laws of hospitality by the massacre of his guests. he had the cruelty to offer up to jupiter, in one of the high festivals, the members of a slave, as an offering to the god. but his punishment was as swift as his conduct had been atrocious: his palace was reduced to ashes, and his form was changed into that of a wolf. from this jupiter took the name which denotes him an avenger of the laws of hospitality. jupiter is also distinguished by the name of ammon from the following circumstance: bacchus being in the midst of the sands of arabia, was seized with a thirst so burning, that he was reduced to long even for a drop of water. jupiter presented himself to him under the form of a battering-ram, and striking the earth, caused the grateful liquid to spring forth in abundance. bacchus, to commemorate the deed, erected a temple to his benefactor in the deserts of lybia, under the name of jupiter ammon, i. e.--sandy. by this time mankind had owed their creation to the king of the gods. prometheus, grand-son of uranus, having deceived jupiter, he was punished by being withheld from the element of fire; and to enrage his sovereign, he formed a being of clay, of workmanship so exquisite, that it scarcely seemed to need life to add to its beauty, and to complete his performance, assisted { } by minerva, he stole fire from the chariot of the sun, wherewith to animate his image. [illustration] enraged at this daring, jupiter had him conveyed to mount caucasus, where being chained to the rock, a vulture preyed upon his entrails, which grew as fast as they were devoured, thus subjecting him to a never dying torture. ------------------"awful sufferer! to thee unwilling, most unwillingly i come, by the great father's will driven down, to execute a doom of new revenge. alas! i pity thee, and hate myself, that i can do no more: aye from thy sight returning, for a season, heaven seems hell, so thy worn form pursues me night and day, smiling reproach. wise art thou, firm and good, but vainly wouldst stand forth alone in strife against the omnipotent: as yon clear lamps, that measure and divide the weary years from which there is no refuge, long have taught and long must teach. even now the torturer arms with the strange might of unimagined pains the powers who scheme slow agonies in hell; and my commission is to lead them here, or what more subtle, foul, or savage fiends people the abyss, and leave them to their task. oh that we might be spared: i to inflict, and thou to suffer! once more answer me: thou knowest not the period of jove's power? _prometheus._ i know but this, that it must come. _first fury._ prometheus! _second fury._ immortal titan! _third fury._ champion of heaven's slaves! _pro._ he whom some dreadful voice invokes is here, prometheus, the chained titan. horrible forms, whence and what are ye? never yet there came { } phantasms so foul thro' monster-teeming hell, from the all miscreative brain of jove; whilst i behold such execrable shapes, methinks i grow like what i contemplate, and laugh and stare in loathsome sympathy. _first fury._ we are ministers of pain, and fear, and disappointment, and mistrust, and hate, and clinging crime; and, as lean dogs pursue thro' wood and lake some struck and sobbing fawn, we track all things that weep, and bleed, and live, when the great king betrays them to our will. _pro._ oh! many fearful natures in one name, i know ye; and these lakes and echoes know the darkness and the clangour of your wings. but why more hideous than your loathed selves gather ye up in legions from the deep! _second fury._ we knew not that: sisters, rejoice! rejoice! _pro._ can aught exult in its deformity? _second fury._ the beauty of delight makes lovers glad, gazing on one another: so are we, as from the rose which the pale priestess kneels to gather for a festal crown of flowers, the aërial crimson falls, flushing her cheek, so from our victim's destined agony, the shade which is our form invests us round; else we are shapeless as our mother night. _pro._ i laugh your power, and his who sent you here, to lowest scorn. pour forth the cup of pain. _first fury._ thou thinkest we will rend thee bone from bone, and nerve from nerve, working like fire within! _pro._ pain is my element, as hate is thine; ye rend me now; i care not. _second fury._ dost imagine we will but laugh into thy lidless eyes? _pro._ i weigh not what ye do, but what ye suffer, being evil. cruel is the power which called you, or aught else so wretched into light! _third fury._ thou think'st we will live through thee one by one, like animal life, and though we can obscure not the soul which burns within, that we will dwell beside it, like a vain, loud multitude, vexing the self-content of wisest men: that we will be dread thought beneath thy brain, and foul desire round thine astonished heart, and blood within thy labyrinthine veins, crawling like agony. _pro._ why use me thus now, yet am i king over my self's rule, the torturing and conflicting throes within, as jove rules you when hell grows mutinous." shelley. this provoked the vengeance of jupiter, and he ordered vulcan to create a female, whom they called pandora. all the gods vied in making presents. venus gave her beauty, and the art of pleasing; { } apollo taught her to sing; mercury instructed her in eloquence; minerva gave her the most rich and splendid ornaments. from these valuable presents which she received from the gods, the woman was called pandora, which intimates that she had received every necessary gift. jupiter, after this, gave her a beautiful box, which she was ordered to present to the man who married her; and by the command of the god, mercury conducted her to prometheus. the artful mortal was sensible of the deceit; and as he had always distrusted jupiter, he sent away pandora without suffering himself to be captivated by her charms. "he spoke, and told to mulciber his will, and smiling bade him his command fulfil; to use his greatest art, his nicest care, to frame a creature exquisitely fair; to temper well the clay with water, then to add the vigour and the voice of men; to let her first in virgin lustre shine, in form a goddess, with a bloom divine; and next the sire demands minerva's aid, in all her various skill to train the maid bids her the secrets of the loom impart, to cast a curious thread with happy heart; and golden venus was to teach the fair the wiles of love, and to improve her air; and then in awful majesty to shed a thousand graceful charms around her head. next hermes, artful god, must form her mind, one day to torture, and the next be kind: with manners all deceitful, and her tongue fraught with abuse, and with detraction hung; jove gave the mandate, and the gods obeyed: first vulcan formed of earth the blushing maid; minerva next performed the task assigned, with every female art adorned her mind; to her the beauties and the graces join, around her person, lo! the diamonds shine. to deck her brows the fair tressed seasons bring, a garland breathing all the sweets of spring: each present pallas gives its proper place, and adds to every ornament a grace! next hermes taught the fair the heart to move with all the false alluring arts of love, her manners all deceitful, and her tongue with falsehoods fruitful, and detraction hung; the finished maid the gods pandora call, because a tribute she received from all; and thus 'twas jove's command the sex began a lovely mischief to the soul of man! within her hand the nymph a casket bears, full of diseases and corroding cares: { } which opened, they to taint the world begin and hope alone remained entire within! such was the fatal present from above, and such the will of cloud compelling jove: and now unnumbered woes o'er mortals reign alike infected is the land and main; o'er human race distempers silent stray, and multiply their strength by night and day! 'twas jove's decree they should in silence rove, for who is able to contend with jove?" hesiod. when the box was opened, there issued from it a multitude of evils and distempers, which dispersed themselves over the world, and which from that fatal moment have never ceased to afflict the human race. hope alone remained at the bottom, and that only has the power of easing the labours of man, and rendering his troubles less painful. "but thou, oh! hope, with eyes so fair, what was thy delighted measure? still it whispered promised pleasure, and bade the lovely scenes at distance hail! still would her touch the strain prolong, and from the rocks, the woods, the vale, she called on echo still throughout the song; and where her sweetest theme she chose a soft responsive voice was heard at every close, and hope, enchanted, smiled and waved her golden hair!" collins. ------ "hope sets the stamp of vanity on all, that men have deemed substantial since the fall, yet has the wondrous virtue to educe, from emptiness itself, a real use; and while she takes, as at a father's hand, what health and sober appetite demand, from fading good derives with chemic art that lasting happiness, a thankful heart. hope with uplifted foot set free from earth pants for the place of her ethereal birth; hope, as an anchor firm and sure, holds fast the christian vessel, and defies the blast. hope! nothing else can nourish and secure his new born virtue, and preserve him pure. hope! let the wretch once conscious of the joy, whom now despairing agonies destroy, speak, for he can, and none so well as he, what treasures centre, what delights in thee. had he the gems, the spices, and the land that boasts the treasure, all at his command, the fragrant grove, th' inestimable mine, were light when weighed against one smile of thine." cowper. { } after this commenced the age of steel, when even jupiter abandoned himself to the fiery passions of love, jealousy, and vengeance. ----------"hard steel succeeded then: and stubborn as the metal were the men. truth, modesty, and shame the world forsook; fraud, avarice, and force, their places took. then sails were spread to every wind that blew, raw were the sailors, and the depths were new; trees, rudely hollowed, did the waves sustain, ere ships in triumph, ploughed the watery plain. then landmarks limited to each his right; for all before was common as the light: nor was the ground alone required to bear her annual income to the crooked share, but greedy mortals rummaging her store, dug from her entrails first the precious ore, which next to hell the prudent gods had laid, and that alluring ill to sight displayed. thus cursed steel, and more accursed gold, gave mischief birth, and made the mischief bold, and double did wretched man invade, by steel assaulted, and by gold betrayed. now (brandished weapons glittering in their hands) mankind is broken loose from moral bands: no right of hospitality remain; the guest, by him who harboured him, is slain. the son-in-law pursues the father's life, the wife her husband murders, he the wife; the step-dame poison for the son prepares; the son inquires into his father's years. faith flies, and piety in exile mourns; and justice, here opprest, to heaven returns." ovid. he was enamoured of antiope, alcmena, danae, leda, semele, europa, calista, and a crowd of other goddesses and mortals. the principal names given to jupiter are the thunderer, the avenger, the god of day, the god of the worlds, and lastly of olympus, in which he dwelt, and on which poets and painters have exercised their imaginations. the figures of jupiter have varied according to the circumstances and the times in which they have appeared. he has been represented as a swan, a bull, a shower of gold, and as a cuckoo: but homer appears to have inspired ideas of the most noble kinds to the sculptors of antiquity. the divine poet represents the king of gods seated on a golden throne, at the feet of which are two cups, containing the principle of good and evil. his brow laden with { } dark clouds; his eyes darting lightning from beneath their lids; and his chin covered with a majestic beard. in one hand the sceptre, in the other a thunderbolt. the virtues are at his side: at his feet the eagle who bears the thunderbolt. one frown from his eyes makes the whole earth tremble. [illustration] the olympian games in greece were instituted in honour of this god, from those celebrated at olympus. the following, perhaps the finest description we have of jupiter, while granting the prayer of achilles, is from homer's iliad. "twelve days were passed, and now the dawning light, the gods had summoned to the olympian height. jove first ascending from the watery bowers, leads the long order of ethereal powers. when like the morning mist in early days, rose from the flood the daughter of the seas; and to the seats divine her flight addressed. there far apart, and high above the rest the thunderer sat; where old olympus shrouds his hundred heads in heaven, and props the clouds. suppliant the goddess stood: one hand she placed beneath his beard, and one his knees embraced: 'if e'er, o father of the gods!' she said, 'my words could please thee, or my actions aid; some marks of honour on my son bestow, and pay in glory what in life you owe. fame is at least by heavenly promise due, to life so short, and now dishonoured too. avenge this wrong, oh ever just and wise; let greece be humbled, and the trojans rise; till the proud king, and all the achaian race, shall heap with honours him they now disgrace.'" homer. [illustration: olympus.] { } jupiter is often described by the ancients as visiting the earth in disguise, and distributing to its inhabitants his punishments or rewards. ovid relates one in connexion with the luxury of rome, and in which the hospitality of baucis and philemon saved them from the fate of their friends. he is represented as the guardian of man, and dispenser of good and evil. "while we to jove select the holy victim, whom after shall we sing than jove himself? the god for ever great, for ever king, who slew the earth-born race, and measures right to heaven's great habitants. swift growth and wondrous grace, oh! heavenly jove, waited thy blooming years: inventive wit, and perfect judgment crowned thy youthful act. thou to the lesser gods hast well assigned their proper shares of power; thy own, great jove, boundless and universal. each monarch rules his different realm, accountable to thee, great ruler of the world; these only have to speak and be obeyed; to those are given assistant days to ripen the design; to some whole months; revolving years to some; others, ill-fated, are condemned to toil their tedious life, and mourn their purpose blasted, with fruitless act and impotence of counsel. hail! greatest son of saturn, wise disposer of every good; thy praise what man yet born has sung? or who that may be born shall sing? again, and often, hail! indulge our prayer, great father! grant us virtue, grant us wealth, for without virtue, wealth to man avails not, and virtue without wealth exerts less power, and less diffuses good. then grant us, gracious, virtue and wealth, for both are of thy gift!" prior. * * * * * juno. ------ juno, who was the daughter of saturn and cybele, was also sister and wife to jupiter. her pride protected her beauty: for when the god, to seduce her, took the form of a cuckoo, she recognised him in his disguise, and refused to submit to his wishes, unless he would consent to marry her. at their nuptials, invitations were sent to all the gods, and beings of even a lower order were not forgotten. but one nymph, by the insolence of her refusal, merited { } the punishment she received of being changed into a tortoise, and became the symbol of silence. as might be expected, the marriage of jupiter and juno, was not productive of much happiness, the jealousy of the latter being a never-failing source of misery; it was this which caused the celebrated trojan war; and this that caused jupiter to suspend her from heaven by a golden cord, in the attempt to rescue her from which, vulcan achieved the wrath of his sire, the thunderer. [illustration] the intrigue of jupiter with io, is also celebrated in the history of his amours. juno became jealous as usual, discovered the object of his affections, and surprised him in the company of io; a change soon took place in the appearance of the latter, when, through the { } influence of the god, she assumed the form of a white heifer. juno instantly discovered the fraud, and requested jupiter to give her possession of an animal she so much admired. the request was too reasonable to be refused, and io became the property of juno, who placed her under the control of the hundred-eyed argus: but jupiter, anxious for the situation of io, sent mercury, who destroyed argus, and restored her to liberty. "down from the rock fell the dissevered head, opening its eyes in death, and falling bled, and marked the passage with a crimson trail; thus argus lies in pieces, cold and pale, and all his hundred eyes with all their light are closed at once in one perpetual night; these juno takes, that they no more may fail, and spreads them in her peacock's gaudy tail." ovid. after undergoing the vengeance of juno, who unrelentingly pursued her, she gave birth to an infant on the banks of the nile, and was restored by jupiter to her natural shape. all who seemed to be favoured by, or who favoured jupiter, she persecuted with the utmost rigour: but when it is remembered what cause juno had for her jealousy, and that her husband metamorphosed himself into a swan for leda, into a shepherd for mnemosyne, into a shower of gold for danae, and into a bull for europa, she may easily be pardoned her restless spirit. when jupiter had assumed the form of a bull, he mingled with the herds belonging to agenor, father of europa, while the latter, with her female attendants, was gathering flowers in the surrounding meadows. europa caressed the beautiful animal, and at last had the courage to sit upon his back. jupiter took advantage of her situation, and with precipitate steps retired towards the shore, crossed the sea with europa on him, and arrived safe in crete. here he adopted his original shape, and declared his love. the nymph consented, though she had previously taken the vows of perpetual celibacy; and became the mother of minos, sarpedon, and rhadamanthus. "the ruler of the skies, the thundering god, who shakes the world's foundation with a nod, among a herd of lowing heifers ran, frisked in a bull, and gallopped o'er the plain; { } his skin was whiter than the snow that lies unsullied by the breath of southern skies, his every look was peaceful, and expressed the softness of the lover in the beast. agenor's royal daughter, as she played among the fields, the milk white bull surveyed, and viewed his spotless body with delight, and at a distance kept him still in sight; at length she plucked the rising flowers, that fed the gentle beast, and fondly stroked his head. she placed herself upon his back, and rode o'er fields and meadows, seated on the god. he gently marched along, and by degrees, left the dry meadows and approached the seas, where now he dips his hoofs and wets his thighs, now plunges in, and carries off the prize." ovid. at length juno, unable to bear the many injuries her love had sustained, left jupiter, and retired to the isle of samos, announcing, at the same time, that she should return no more to the court of the king of heaven. the latter, not disheartened, dressed a statue as queen of olympus, placed it in his chariot, and declared it should be the future wife of the ruler of the gods. this induced juno to quit her hiding place; for, unable to restrain her jealousy, she rushed back with all speed, destroyed the statue, laughingly acknowledged her error, and was reconciled to her husband. the wife of jupiter is always represented as superbly arrayed, in a chariot drawn by two peacocks, where she sat with a sceptre in her hand, having always a peacock beside her. she was adored above all at argos, where her feasts were celebrated by the sacrifice of a hundred bulls. at rome, hers were the lupercalian feasts. she was believed to preside over the birth-pangs of the roman women, and the priests, to render the time fruitful, struck these grave matrons with a portion of the skin of a kid, which they asserted had formed one of the vestments of the goddess. in the spirit of a high mythology, juno may be considered as representing the sublunary atmosphere; and, as opposed to jupiter, the active origin and organizer of all, she is of a passive nature. these ideas are allied with those of hymen, who is called juno, the virtuous wife. a statue of juno recently discovered, is thus described:-- "the countenance expresses a stern unquestioned severity of { } dominion, with a certain sadness. the lips are beautiful, susceptible of expressing scorn, but not without sweetness. with fine lips a person is never wholly bad, and they never belong to the expression of emotions purely selfish, lips being the seat of imagination. the drapery is finely conceived; and the manner in which the act of throwing back one leg is expressed in the diverging folds of the drapery of the left breast, fading in bold, yet graduated lines, into a skirt, as it descends from the left shoulder, is admirably imagined." shelley. * * * * * [illustration] ceres. ------ ceres, daughter of saturn and cybele, was goddess of the productions of the earth. she taught man the art of agriculture, and is represented crowned with wheat, holding a torch in one hand, and in the other an ear of corn; sometimes she carries a sceptre, and sometimes a sickle, and her chariot is drawn by lions or by serpents. ------------"as tempered suns arise sweet beamed, and shedding through the lucid clouds a pleasing calm: while broad and brown, below extensive harvests hang the heavy head. rich, silent, deep, they stand: for not a gale rolls its light billows o'er the bending plain: a calm of plenty; till the ruffled air falls from its poise, and gives the breeze to blow. { } rent is the fleecy mantle of the sky, and back by fits the shadows sweep along. a gaily chequered, heart-expanding view, far as the circling eye can shoot around, unbounded, tossing in a flood of corn." thomson. loved by jupiter, she had by the god a daughter called proserpine, whom pluto, god of hell, seized near the beautiful vale of enna, in sicily, and carried with him to his dismal kingdom. ceres, whose love for her child, almost surpassed even the usual love of mothers, placed on mount etna two torches, and sought her "from morn to noon, from noon to dewy eve," throughout the world. at last, when she deemed her search well nigh hopeless, she was informed by the nymph arethusa of the dwelling place of her child, and of the name of him who had torn her beloved one from her paternal care. ceres implored jupiter to interfere, and withdraw her from the infernal regions, which he agreed to do, but found it would be beyond his power, as, by a decree of destiny, she would not be able to quit her place of concealment, should she have partaken of any nourishment while there; and it was discovered that though she had refused all ordinary food, she had been tempted while in the gardens of pluto, to pluck a pomegranate, and to eat a few of its seeds. this was sufficient; and the utmost ceres could obtain, was that she should pass six months of the year with her mother and six months with pluto, when she became his wife. "near enna's walls a spacious lake is spread, famed for the sweetly singing swans it bred; pergûsa is its name: and never more were heard, or sweeter sounds than on cayster's shore. woods crown the lake, and phoebus ne'er invades the tufted fences or offends the shades: fresh fragrant breezes fan the verdant bowers, and the moist ground smiles with enamelled flowers, the cheerful birds their airy carols sing, and the whole year is one eternal spring. here while young proserpine, among the maids, diverts herself in these delicious shades; while like a child with busy speed and care, she gathers lilies here, and violets there; while first to fill her little lap she strives, hell's grizzly monarch at the shades arrives; sees her thus sporting on the flowery green, and loves the blooming maid as soon as seen. { } the frighted goddess to her mother cries: but all in vain, for now far off she flies; his urgent flame impatient of delay, swift as his thought he seized the beauteous prey, and bore her in his sooty car away. far she behind her leaves her virgin train; to them too cries, and cries to them in vain. and while with passion she repeats her call, the violets from her lap and lilies fall: she misses them, poor heart! and makes new moan: her lilies, oh! are lost, her violets gone. o'er hills the ravisher, and valleys speeds, by name encouraging his foamy steeds; he rattles o'er their necks the rusty reins, and ruffles with the stroke their shaggy manes throws to his dreadful steeds the slackened rein, and strikes his iron sceptre through the main; the depths profound thro' yielding waves he cleaves, and to hell's centre a free passage leaves; down sinks his chariot, and his realms of night the god soon reaches with a rapid flight." ovid. the attempts of ceres to encourage the art of agriculture were not always favourably received: the king of the scythians, who loved the sword more than the ploughshare, and the spear more than the reaping hook, having attempted to smother the art taught by ceres in its infancy, was metamorphosed into a lynx. nor was this the only instance of the vengeance of the goddess, who was irritable, and prompt to punish. a young child, whose chief crime was having laughed to see her eat with avidity, was changed into a lizard: while a thessalian, who had desecrated and attempted to destroy a sacred forest, was doomed to an hunger so cruel, that he devoured his own limbs, and died in the midst of fearful torments. [illustration] * * * * * { } destiny. ------ we have already seen that the decrees of destiny, or fate, were superior even to the will of jupiter, as the king of the gods could not restore proserpine to her mother, destiny having decreed otherwise. but of this being, as possessing a place among the heroes of mythology, we are left in considerable ignorance. scarcely knowing even if he were a god, or only the name or symbol whereby to represent an immutable and unchangeable law. in the antique bas-reliefs he is often to be seen, with a bandage over his eyes, and near him an open book which the gods alone might consult: and in which are written those events which must inevitably come to pass, and which all are so anxious to discover. "thou power which all men strive to look into! thou power which dost elude all human search! to thee alone is given the right to gaze into the fate prepared for all who live. oh! wilt thou ne'er unlock thine iron bars, oh! wilt thou ne'er enable us to look into the volume clasped at thy right hand? the past is known to us, and doth contain so much of evil and so little good, so much of wrong, and oh! so little right, so much of suffering, and so little peace, that we would fain turn o'er the leaves which speak of future things to our sore troubled souls. yet no! perchance the burden is too much, and is in mercy hidden from our eyes. earth is made up of so much care and woe, the past, the present, and the future known, would sink us into deep and desperate sorrow." [illustration] { } apollo. ------ this deity, whose name still lives with us, as the presiding divinity of the art of song, was the son of jupiter, by the beautiful latona, daughter of the titan, coeus. asteria, her sister, disdaining the embraces of the god, threw herself into the sea, and was changed into the isle which bears the name of delos; where latona afterwards sought refuge from the fury of juno, when about to overwhelm her, for her frailty with her husband. the irritated goddess, to punish latona for her crime, excited against her the serpent python, who pursued her wheresoever she went; until at last, in the isle of delos, alone and unfriended, bearing in her bosom the fruit of her weakness, she gave birth to apollo and diana. weary of her confinement, and wishing to return to her father coeus, she arrived near his dominions, where, fatigued with her journey, she begged a drop of water from the peasants, whose cruel refusal to aid her she punished by changing them into frogs. [illustration] { } "the goddess came, and kneeling on the brink, stooped at the fresh repast, prepared to drink: then thus, being hindered by the rabble race, in accents mild expostulates the case: 'water i only ask, and sure 'tis hard from nature's common rights to be debarred. this, as the genial sun, and vital air, should flow alike to every creature's share; one draught, as dear as life i should esteem, and water, now i thirst, would nectar seem: oh! let my little babes your pity move, and melt your hearts to charitable love: they (as by chance they did) extend to you their little hands, and my request pursue!' yet they the goddess's request refuse, and, with rude words, reproachfully abuse. her thirst by indignation was suppressed; bent on revenge, the goddess stood confessed! 'and may you live,' she passionately cried, 'doomed in that pool for ever to abide!' the goddess has her wish----" ovid. [illustration] during her residence at her father's court, niobe, daughter of tantalus, had the insolence to prefer herself to latona, who had but two children, while niobe possessed seven sons and seven daughters. she even ridiculed the worship which was paid to latona, observing, that she had a better claim to altars and sacrifices than the mother of apollo. this insolence provoked latona, and she entreated her children to punish the arrogant niobe. her prayers were granted, and immediately all the sons of niobe expired by the { } darts of apollo, and all the daughters, except one, who was married, were equally destroyed by diana; while niobe, stricken by the greatness of the misfortune which had overwhelmed her, was changed into stone. the bodies of niobe's children were left unburied in the plains for nine successive days, because jupiter changed into stones all such as attempted to inter them. on the tenth, they were honoured with a funeral by the gods. while apollo resided at the court of jupiter, he retained the title of the god of light; and though many writers consider phoebus and apollo to be different deities, there can be no doubt that the worship which is offered to phoebus, as the sun, is due also to apollo; and indeed, under both titles is he addressed by ancients, as well as moderns. "giver of glowing light! though but a god of other days, the kings and sages, of wiser ages, still live and gladden in thy genial rays! "king of the tuneful lyre! still poets hymns to thee belong, though lips are cold, whereon of old, thy beams all turned to worshipping and song! "lord of the dreadful bow! none triumph now for python's death but thou dost save from hungry grave, the life that hangs upon a summer's breath! "father of rosy day! no more thy clouds of incense rise; but waking flowers, at morning hours, give out their sweets to meet thee in the skies! "god of the delphic fane! no more thou listenest to hymns sublime; but they will leave, on winds at eve, a solemn echo to the end of time!" hood. by the invention of phoebus, medicine became known to the world, as he granted to �sculapius the secrets of this miraculous art, who afterwards sought to raise the dead, and while in the act of bringing { } to life hippolitus, son of theseus, jupiter enraged with his impiety, smote him with a thunderbolt. indignant at the punishment which had been awarded �sculapius, apollo sought the isle of lemnos, to immolate the cyclops to his indignation, who had forged the thunderbolt. [illustration] but so insolent an act could not remain unpunished, and jupiter exiled him from heaven. while on earth, he loved the nymph daphne, and mercury who had invented the lyre, gave it to him that he might the more effectually give vent to his passion. this lyre, was formed of the shell of a tortoise, and composed of seven cords, while to its harmonious tones were raised the walls of troy. in vain, however, were the sweet sounds of the lyre tuned, to soften daphne whose affection rested with another, and was insensible to that of apollo, though he pursued her with fervour for a year. daphne, still inexorable, was compelled to yield to the fatigue which oppressed her, when the gods, at her entreaty, changed her into a laurel. apollo took a branch and formed it into a crown, and to this day the laurel remains one of the attributes of the god. the leaves of this tree are believed to possess the property of preserving from thunder, and of making dreams an image of reality to those who place it beneath their pillow. --------------------"her feet she found benumbed with cold, and fastened to the ground, a filmy rind about her body grows, her hair to leaves, her arms extend to boughs, { } the nymph is all into a laurel gone, the smoothness of her skin remains alone; to whom the god: "because thou canst not be my mistress, i espouse thee for my tree; be thou the prize of honour and renown, the deathless poet and the poem crown! thou shalt the roman festivals adorn, and after poets, be by victors worn! thou shalt returning cæsar's triumph grace, when pomp shall in a long procession pass; wreathed on the posts before his palace wait, and be the sacred guardian of the gate; secure from thunder and unharmed by jove, unfading as the immortal powers above; and as the locks of phoebus are unshorn so shall perpetual green thy boughs adorn." ovid. however earnest apollo might have been in his pursuit of daphne, he did not long remain inconsolable, but formed a tender attachment for leucothoe, daughter of king orchamus, and to introduce himself with greater facility, he assumed the shape and features of her mother. their happiness was complete, when clytie, her sister, who was enamoured of the god, and was jealous of his amours with leucothoe, discovered the whole intrigue to her father, who ordered his daughter to be buried alive. apollo passing by accident over the tomb which contained her, heard her last melancholy cries, but unable to save her from death, he sprinkled nectar and ambrosia over her tomb, which penetrating as far as the body, changed it into the beautiful tree that bears the frankincense; while the unhappy clytie, tormented by remorse, and disdained by the god, was changed into a sunflower, the plant which turns itself without ceasing, towards its deity, the sun. "on the bare earth she lies, her bosom bare, loose her attire, dishevelled is her hair; nine times the morn unbarred the gates of light, as oft were spread the alternate shades of night, so long no sustenance the mourner knew, unless she drank her tears, or sucked the dew, she turned about, but rose not from the ground, turned to the sun still as he rolled his round; on his bright face hung her desiring eyes, till fixed to earth, she strove in vain to rise, her looks their paleness in a flower retained, but here and there, some purple streaks they gained. still the loved object the fond leaves pursue, still move their root, the moving sun to view and in the heliotrope the nymph is true." ovid. { } these unhappy endeavours of apollo, determined him to take refuge in friendship, and he attached himself to the young hyacinth; ----"hyacinth, long since a fair youth seen, whose tuneful voice turned fragrance in his breath, kissed by sad zephyr, guilty of his death." hood. but misfortune appeared to cling to all who were favoured by apollo, for as they played at quoits with zephyr, the latter fired by jealousy, blew the quoit of apollo on the forehead of the unhappy mortal, who fell dead upon the green turf on which they were playing; while his blood sinking into the ground, produced the flower which still bears his name. [illustration] "flower! with a curious eye we scan thy leaf, and there discover how passion triumphed--pain began-- or in the immortal, or the man, the hero, or the lover. "the disk is hurled:--ah! fatal flight! low droops that beauteous brow: but oh! the delian's pang! his light of joy lies quenched in sorrow's night: the deathless record _thou_. "or, do they tell, these mystic signs, the self destroyer's madness? phrensy, ensanguined wreaths entwines: the sun of chivalry declines;-- the wreck of glory's gladness!" apollo was so disconsolate at the death of hyacinth, that, as we have seen, he changed his blood into a flower which bore his name, and placed his body among the constellations. { } the spartans established yearly festivals in his honour, which continued for three days; they did not adorn their hair with garlands during their festivals, nor eat bread, but fed only upon sweetmeats. they did not even sing pæans in honour of apollo, or observe any of the solemnities usual at other sacrifices. ----"pitying the sad death of hyacinthus when the cruel breath of zephyr slew him, zephyr, penitent, who now, ere phoebus mounts the firmament, fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain." keats. saddened by his efforts to form an endearing friendship, apollo once more sighed for the nymph perses, daughter of ocean, and had by her the celebrated circe, remarkable for her knowledge of magic and venomous herbs. bolina, another nymph to whom he was attached, wishing to escape from his pursuit, threw herself into the waves, and was received by the nymphs of amphitrion. "i staid awhile to see her throw her tresses back, that all beset the fair horizon of her brow, with clouds of jet. "i staid a little while to view her cheek, that wore in place of red, the bloom of water, tender blue, daintily spread. "i staid to watch a little space her parted lips, if she would sing; the waters closed above her face, with many a ring. "and still i stayed a little more,-- alas! she never comes again, i throw my flowers from the shore and watch in vain." hood. after this, apollo lost the young cyparissus, who had replaced hyacinth in his favour, and guarded his flocks; this young shepherd having slain by accident a stag of which apollo was fond, expired of grief, and was changed into the tree which bears his name. apollo now attached himself to the sybil of cumes, and granted to her the boon of prolonging her life as many years as there were grains in a handful of sand which she held. but she lived to repent of this frightful gift. alone in the world, her friends departed, and none to remind { } her of the days of the past, she implored the gods to release her from the misery which overwhelmed her. cassandra, daughter of priam, consented to her prayer, if apollo would grant to her the power of divination. apollo agreed, and swore to the truth of his promise by the river styx. scarcely had he uttered the oath, than the gods, who could not absolve him from it, rallied him on his folly. irritated at the ridicule they poured upon him, he added to this gift, the restriction, that she should never believe her own prophecies. after this he again yielded to the power of love, and sought to please clymene, who was the mother of phæton. to this nymph succeeded the chaste castalia, whom he pursued to the very foot of parnassus, where the gods metamorphosed her into a fountain. as apollo was lamenting his loss on the bank of that river, he heard an exquisite melody escaping from the depth of the wood. he approached the place from whence the sound seemed to issue, and recognized the nine muses, children of jupiter and mnemosyne. [illustration] "mnemosyne, in the pierian grove, the scene of her intrigue with mighty jove, the empress of eleuther, fertile earth, brought to olympian jove the muses forth; blessed offsprings, happy maids, whose powerful art can banish cares, and ease the painful heart. * * * * * * clio begins the lovely tuneful race, which melpomene and euterpe grace; terpischore, all joyful in the choir, and erato, to love whose lays inspire; to these thalia and polymnia join, urania and calliope divine." hesiod. { } the taste and feelings of apollo responded to those of these noble sisters: they received him in their palace, and assembled together with him to converse on the arts and sciences. among their possessions, the muses and apollo had a winged horse, named pegasus. this courser, born of the blood of medusa, fixed his residence on mount helicon, and, by striking the earth with his foot, caused the spring of hippocrene to gush from the ground. while the courser was thus occupied, apollo mounted his back, placed the muses with him, and pegasus, lifting his wings, carried them to the court of bacchus. [illustration] envious of the fame of apollo at this court, marsyas, the phrygian, declared that, with his flute, he could surpass the melody of the god's divine lyre, and challenged apollo to a trial of his skill as a musician; the god accepted the challenge, and it was mutually agreed, that he who was defeated should be flayed alive. the muses were appointed umpires. each exerted his utmost skill, and the victory was adjudged to apollo. the god, upon this, tied his opponent to a tree, and punished him as had been agreed. the { } death of marsyas was universally lamented; the fauns, satyrs and dryads, wept at his fate, and from their abundant tears flowed a river of phrygia, well known by the name of marsyas. [illustration] undeterred by this example, pan, favourite of midas, king of lydia, wished also to compete with apollo in the art of which the latter was master. pan began the struggle, and midas repeated his songs with enthusiasm, without paying the least attention to his celestial rival. pan again sang, and midas repeated; when, to his surprise, the latter felt, pressing through his hair, a pair of ears, long and shaggy. alarmed at this phenomenon, pan took to flight, and the prince, desolate at the loss of his favourite, made one of his attendants, some say his wife, the confidant of his misfortune, begging her not to betray his trust. the secret was too great for the bosom of its holder; she longed to tell it, but dared not, for fear of punishment; and as the only way of consoling herself, sought a retired and lonely spot, where she threw herself on the earth, whispering "king midas has the ears of an ass, king midas has the ears of an ass." not long after her visit, some reeds arose in this place; and as the wind passed through them, they repeated, "king midas has the ears of an ass." enraged, no less than terrified, at this extraordinary occurrence, midas sacrificed to bacchus, who, to console, granted him the special favour of turning all that he touched into fine gold. "midas the king, as in the book appears, by phoebus was endowed with ass's ears, which under his long locks he well concealed; as monarch's vices must not be revealed: for fear the people have them in the wind. who long ago were neither dumb nor blind: { } nor apt to think from heaven their title springs, since jove and mars left off begetting kings. this midas knew, and durst communicate, to none but to his wife his ears of state: one must be trusted, and he thought her fit, as passing prudent, and a parlous wit. to this sagacious confessor he went, and told her what a gift the gods had sent: but told it under matrimonial seal, with strict injunction never to reveal. the secret heard, she plighted him her troth, (and secret sure is every woman's oath,) the royal malady should rest unknown, both for her husband's honour and her own. but ne'ertheless she pined with discontent, the counsel rumbled till it found a vent. the thing she knew she was obliged to hide: by interest and by oath the wife was tied: but if she told it not the woman died. loth to betray her husband and a prince, but she must burst or blab, and no pretence of honour tied her tongue in self defence. the marshy ground commodiously was near, thither she ran, and held her breath for fear lest, if a word she spoke of any thing, that word might be the secret of the king. thus full of council to the fen she went, full all the way, and longing for a vent. arrived, by pure necessity compelled, on her majestic marrow-bones she kneeled, then to the water's brink she laid her head, and, as a bittern sounds within a reed, 'to thee alone, oh! lake,' she said, 'i tell, and as thy queen, command thee to conceal, beneath his locks, the king my husband wears a goodly, royal pair of ass's ears. now i have eased my bosom of the pain, till the next longing fit returns again!'" ovid. the story of phaeton, (son of apollo under the name of phoebus) is as follows: venus becoming enamoured of phaeton, entrusted him with the care of one of her temples. this distinguished favour of the goddess rendered him vain and aspiring; and when told, to check his pride, that he was not the son of phoebus, phaeton resolved to know his true origin; and at the instigation of his mother, he visited the palace of the sun, to beg that phoebus, if he really were his father, would give him proofs of his paternal tenderness, and convince the world of his legitimacy. phoebus swore by the styx that he would grant him whatever he required; and phaeton demanded of him to drive his chariot (that of the sun) for one day. in vain phoebus represented the impropriety of his request, and { } the dangers to which it would expose him; the oath must be complied with. when phaeton received the reins from his father, he immediately betrayed his ignorance and incapacity. the flying horses took advantage of his confusion, and departed from their accustomed track. phaeton repented too late of his rashness, for heaven and earth seemed threatened with an universal conflagration, when jupiter struck the rider with a thunderbolt, and hurled him headlong into the river po. his body, consumed by fire, was found by the nymphs of the place, and honoured with a decent burial. the heliades, his sisters wept for four months, without ceasing, until the gods changed them into poplars, and their tears into grains of amber; while the young king of the ligurians, a chosen friend of phaeton, was turned into a swan at the very moment he was yielding to his deep regrets. aurora is also the daughter of apollo. she granted the gift of immortality to tithonus, her husband, son of the king of troy; but soon perceiving that the gift was valueless, unless the power of remaining ever young was joined with it, she changed him into a grasshopper. from their union sprang memnon, who was killed by achilles at the siege of troy. the tears of his mother were the origin of the early dew, and the egyptians formed, in honour of him, the celebrated statue which possessed the wonderful property of uttering a melodious sound every morning at sunrise, as if in welcome of the divine luminary, like that which is heard at the breaking of the string of a harp when it is wound up. this was effected by the rays of the sun when they fell on it. at its setting, the form appeared to mourn the departure of the god, and uttered sounds most musical and melancholy; this celebrated statue was dismantled by the order of cambyses, when he conquered egypt, and its ruins still astonish modern travellers by their grandeur and beauty. "unto the sacred sun in memnon's fane, spontaneous concords quired the matin strain; touched by his orient beam, responsive rings the living lyre, and vibrates all its strings; accordant aisles the tender tones prolong, and holy echoes swell the adoring song." darwin. apollo having slain with his arrows, python, a monstrous serpent which desolated the beautiful country around parnassus, his victory was celebrated in all greece by the young pythians; where crowns, { } formed at first of the branches of oak, but afterwards of laurel, were distributed to the conquerors, and where they contended for the prize of dancing, music and poetry. it is from his encounter with this serpent, that in the statues which remain of him, our eyes are familiar with the bow placed in his grasp. ----------------"the lord of the unerring bow, the god of life, and poesy, and light, the sun in human limbs arrayed, and brow, all radiant from his triumph in the fight; the shaft hath just been shot--the arrow, bright with an immortal's vengeance; in his eye and nostril, beautiful disdain, and might, and majesty, flash their full lightnings by, developing in that one glance the deity. "but in his delicate form, a dream of love, shaped by some solitary nymph, whose breast longed for a deathless lover from above, and maddened in that vision, are exprest all that ideal beauty ever blest the mind with, in its most unearthly mood, when each conception was a heavenly guest, a ray of immortality, and stood star like, around, until they gathered to a god! "and if it be prometheus stole from heaven the fire which we endure, it was repaid by him to whom the energy was given, which this poetic marble hath arrayed with an eternal glory, which if made by human hands, is not of human thought, and time himself hath hallowed it, nor laid one ringlet in the dust, nor hath it caught a tinge of years, but breathes the flame with which 'twas wrought." byron. but the gods grew jealous of the homage shewn to apollo, and recalling him from earth, replaced him in his seat at olympus. the fable of apollo is, perhaps, that which is most spread over the faith of antiquity. pæans were the hymns chanted in his honour, and this was the war cry he shouted in his onset against the serpent python. on his altars are immolated a bull or a white lamb--to him is offered the crow, supposed to read the future, the eagle who can gaze on the sun, the cock whose cry welcomes his return, and the grasshopper, who sings during his empire. this god is represented in the figure of a young man without beard, with curling locks of hair, his brow wreathed with laurels, and his head surrounded with beams of light. in his right hand { } he holds a bow and arrows; in the left, a lyre with seven chords, emblem of the seven planets to which he grants his celestial harmony. sometimes he carries a buckler, and is accompanied by the three graces, who are the animating deities of genius and the fine arts, and at his feet is placed a swan. [illustration] he had temples and statues in every country, particularly in egypt, greece, and italy; the most famous was that of delos, where they celebrated the pythian games, that of soractes, where the priests worshipped by treading with their naked feet on burning coals, though without feeling pain, and that of delphi, in which the youth of the place offered to the gods their locks of hair, possibly because this offering was most difficult to the vanity of youth. apollo made known his oracles through the medium of a sibyl. this was a female, named also a pythoness, on account of her seat being formed of massive gold resembling the skin of the serpent python. the history of the tripod will be found to afford much interest. the fishermen who had found it in their nets, sought the oracle to consult its responses. this was to offer it to the wisest man in greece. they presented it to thales, who had told them that the most difficult of all human knowledge was the art of knowing ourselves. thales offered the tripod to bias. when the enemy was reducing his native city to ashes, he withdrew, leaving behind him his wealth, saying, "i carry all that is worthy within myself." after frequent adventures, and passing into the possession of many, the tripod finally returned to thales, and was deposited in the temple; where, as we have seen, it served the sibyl for a seat. { } this story shows us at a glance, the principles and the conduct of the greatest philosophers of greece. these sages who considered philosophy to consist in the science of practising virtue, and living happily, endeavoured to show by the adventures of the tripod that, though the way was sometimes different, the end was the same. the sibyl delivered the answer of the god to such as came to consult the oracle, and while the divine inspiration was on her, her eyes sparkled, her hair stood on end, and a shivering ran through her body. in this convulsive state, she spoke the oracles of the deity, often with loud howlings and cries, and her articulations were taken down by the priest, and set in order. sometimes the spirit of inspiration was more gentle, and not always violent, yet plutarch mentions one of the priestesses who was thrown into such excessive fury, that not only those who consulted the oracle, but also the priests who conducted her to the sacred tripod, and attended her during her inspiration, were terrified and forsook the temple; and so violent was the fit, that she continued for some days in the most agonizing situation, and at last died. it was always required that those who consulted this oracle should make presents to apollo, and from thence arose the opulence, splendour, and magnificence, of the temple of delphi. there were other temples of apollo more celebrated, such as that at palmyra, which was constructed of the most gigantic proportions; and for which nothing was spared to give it a magnificence hitherto unknown. augustus, who pretended to be the son of apollo, built a temple to him on mount palatine. delian feasts were those which the athenian, and the other greek states celebrated every four years at delos. the history of the muses is so closely allied to that of apollo that we shall present some of their adventures in this part of our work. the first is the struggle which the muses maintained against the nine daughters of pierus, king of macedon, who dared to dispute with them the palm of singing; being overcome, they were turned into magpies, and since their transformation, they have preserved the talent so dear to beauty, of being able in many words to express very little. [illustration] one day when the muses were distant from their place of abode, a storm surprised them, and they took shelter in the palace of pyrenæus: but scarcely had they entered, when the tyrant shut the { } gates, and sought to offer them insult. they immediately spread their wings and flew away. the king wishing to fly after them, essayed the daring adventure, and throwing himself from the top of the tower as if he had wings, was killed in the attempt. notwithstanding the high reputation of the muses, it is pretended by some, that rheseus was the son of terpsichore, linus of clio, and orpheus of calliope. arion and pindar were also stated to be the children of the muses, to whom the romans built a temple and consecrated a fountain. [illustration] * * * * * { } diana. ------ the goddess diana was daughter of jupiter and latona, and twin sister to apollo. in heaven she bore another name, and conducted the chariot of the moon, while on earth she presided over the chase, was the peculiar deity of hunters, and called diana. in hell she is named hecate and revered by magicians. -----------"hecate, loved by jove, and honour'd by the inhabitants above, profusely gifted from the almighty hand, with power extensive o'er the sea and land; and great the honour, she, by jove's high leave, does from the starry vault of heaven receive. when to the gods the sacred flames aspire, does from the starry vault of heaven receive. from human offerings, as the laws require, to hecate the vows are first prefer'd; happy of men whose prayers are kindly heard, success attends his every act below, honour, wealth, power, to him abundant flow." hesiod. [illustration] she was also the goddess of chastity, and it was in this character that her vengeance fell so heavily on actæon, who following the chase one day with all the ardour of his profession, unhappily came { } suddenly on the retired spot, in which the pure diana, with her nymphs, was enjoying, in the heat of the summer's day, the luxury of bathing. horrified by this violation, though unintentional, of her privacy, she changed him into a stag, and inspiring with madness the dogs that accompanied him to the chase, they turned upon their metamorphosed master, who, in horrible dread of the fate he had himself so often inflicted, fled rapidly from them. true to their breed, however, the dogs succeeded in running him down and devouring him. calista, nymph of diana was seduced by jupiter, who taking one of the innumerable shapes, which he is described as assuming when his passions were inflamed towards any particular nymph, introduced himself to her in the form of her mistress, and in this shape, what wonder that the nymph lost her virtue, or that the god was successful! diana herself, however, took a very different view, and though calista concealed the effects of her divine intrigue from her mistress for a long time, the latter noticed the alteration in her person when bathing in "such streams as dian loves, and naiads of old frequented; when she tripped amidst her frolic nymphs, laughing, or when just risen from the bath, she fled in sport, round oaks and sparkling fountains, chased by the wanton orcades." barry cornwall. to evince her detestation of the crime, her divine mistress changed her into a bear. this however was before "the veiled dian lost her lonely sphere, and her proud name of chaste, for him whose sleep drank in elysium on the latmos steep." bulwer. in great horror at this transformation, calista fled to the forests and brought forth a son, with whom she dwelt, until one day she was induced to enter a temple at lycaen (where, with her son arcas, she had been brought), and which it was not lawful to enter. the dwellers in the city, among whom was arcas, enraged at the desecration, attacked her, and in all probability, she would have perished by the hands of her son, had not jupiter snatched both to the sky, and placed them among the constellations, calista being called "the great bear," and arcas, "the little bear." { } �neas, king of calydon, neglecting the worship of diana, the goddess revenged it by sending into his kingdom a monstrous wild boar; and to rid their country of its ravages, he caused the greek princes to assemble to the chase. atalanta, daughter of the king of arcadia, wounded him first, but she would have fallen beneath the fury of its revenge, had it not been for meleager, son of �neas, who slew the boar. a quarrel having arisen for the possession of the head of this monster, meleager killed his brothers. indignant at this crime, the wife of �neas threw into the flames a brand which bore with it the life of meleager; a fire immediately spread itself through the vitals of the prince, and he expired in the midst of torments, the most cruel and excruciating, and his mother, stricken with despair at the sight of them, destroyed herself, and the sisters of the unhappy victim were changed into fowls. diana is usually represented in the costume of a huntress, with a quiver on her shoulder, and a bow in her hand; her dress is lifted, and her dog is always by her side ready for his prey. her hair is banded over her brow, while sometimes a crescent is painted on her head, of which the points are turned towards heaven. sometimes she is seen in a chariot trained by stags, and in her hand is a torch which serves to frighten away the wild beasts. the affection of this goddess for endymion-- ------------------"whom she, the moonlit dian on the latmian hill, when all the woods, and all the winds were still, kissed with the kiss of immortality" barry cornwall. has been the cause of many an ode, and many a touching story, and is perhaps, one of the most chaste, or at least most chastely told in mythology: "he was a poet, sure a lover too who stood on latmos top, what time there blew soft breezes from the myrtle vale below and brought in faintness, solemn, sweet, and slow a hymn from dian's temple; while up-swelling the incense went to her own starry dwelling. but though her face was clear as infant's eyes, though she stood smiling o'er the sacrifice, the poet wept at her so piteous fate, wept that such beauty should be desolate: so in fine wrath some golden sounds he won, and gave meek cynthia her endymion." keats. { } the beautiful endymion, grandchild of jupiter, having dared to offer his guilty love to juno, he was condemned to live for ever in the infernal regions. however, smitten with his charms, as diana saw him sleeping on the mountain of latmos, she snatched him from the power of pluto, and placed him in a grotto, where she came down from heaven every night to enjoy his society. [illustration] ----------"crescented dian, who 'tis said once wandered from the wastes of blue, and all for love; filling a shepherd's dreams with beauty and delight. he slept, he slept, and on his eyelids white, the huntress wept till morning, and looked thro', on nights like this his lashes dark, and left her dewy kiss; but never more upon the latmos hill may she descend to kiss that forest boy, and give--receive, gentle and innocent joy when clouds are distant far and winds are still: her bound is circumscribed, and curbed her will. those were immortal stories: are they gone? the pale queen is dethroned--endymion hath vanished--; and the worship of this earth is vowed to golden gods of vulgar birth!" barry cornwall. the fable of endymion's amours with diana, or the moon, arises from his knowledge of astronomy: and as he passed the night { } on some high mountain, to observe the heavenly bodies, it has been reported that he was courted by the moon. ----------------"oh! woodland queen, what smoothest air, thy smoother forehead woos? where dost thou listen to the wide halloos of thy departed nymphs? through what dark tree glimmers thy crescent? whatsoe'er it be 'tis in the breath of heaven: thou dost taste freedom, as none can taste it, nor dost waste thy loveliness in dismal elements. but finding in our green earth sweet contents, there livest blissfully." keats. [illustration] the mode of worship to diana, differs in different nations. the most celebrated of her temples was that at ephesus, which from its grandeur and magnificence has been placed among the seven wonders of the world, but was burned by erostratus, the same day that alexander the great was born. this madman had no other end, than to render his name for ever notorious, and he succeeded, notwithstanding the ephesians having decreed that his name should never be mentioned. in one of the temples where diana was worshipped, the presiding priest was always a slave who had slain his predecessor in office, and warned by the fate he had inflicted on others, he never went without a dagger, to protect himself from those who might be ambitious of his office, and reckless of his crime. { } in another, she had an altar, whereon they immolated all those whom shipwreck had thrown on their inhospitable shores. [illustration] "mother of light! how fairly dost thou go over those hoary crests, divinely led! art thou that huntress of the silver bow fabled of old?---- ---- ---- ---- * * * * * * what art thou like? sometimes i see thee ride a far bound galley on its perilous way, whilst breezy waves toss up their silvery spray-- sometimes i watch thee on from steep to steep, timidly lighted by thy vestal torch, till in some latmian cave i see thee creep to catch the young endymion asleep, leaving thy splendour at the jagged porch! "oh! thou art beautiful, however it be, huntress, or dian, or whatever named, and he the veriest pagan, that first framed a silver idol, and ne'er worshipped thee! it is too late, or thou shouldst have my knee; too late now for the old ephesian vows, and not divine the crescent on thy brows: yet call thee nothing but the mere, mild moon, behind those chesnut boughs casting their dappled shadows at my feet; i will be grateful for that simple boon in many a thoughtful verse, and anthem sweet, and bless thy dainty face whene'er we meet. "so let it be: before i lived to sigh, thou wert in avon, and a thousand rills, beautiful dian! and so whene'er i lie trodden, thou wilt be gazing from thy hills. blest be thy loving light, where'er it spills, and blessed thy fair face, o mother mild! still shine, the soul of rivers as they run, still lend thy lonely lamp, to lovers fond, and blend their plighted shadows into one: still smile at even on the bedded child, and close his eyelids with thy silver wand." hood. * * * * * { } bacchus. ------ [illustration] semele, daughter of cadmus, king of thebes, had yielded to the licentious jupiter, and felt within her the effect of her indiscretion. jealous at the object who had again taken her lord's affections, juno sought for some mode in which to punish her, and taking the form of a nurse, suggested the desire of beholding the king of the gods, arrayed in all his celestial glory. in vain did jupiter, when pressed by semele, implore her not to ask him to assume that form, which was too much for mortal eye to bear. woman's wit and woman's fondness prevailed, and, in a moment of weakness, the god swore by the styx, he would perform her request, and by this oath he was forced to abide. armed with thunder, as a proof of his divinity, and in all the glory and majesty of his godhead, he presented himself to the presumptuous mortal, who, unable to bear his presence, fell scorched by his thunderbolt. jupiter, however, took the infant which semele bore him, and confided it to the guardianship of the nymphs of the mountain of nysa, who, for their care of the son of jupiter, in process of time, were translated into heaven. when bacchus, for thus was he { } named, had grown out of their guidance, silenus became his preceptor and foster-father. this god, who is generally represented as fat and jolly, riding on an ass, crowned with flowers, and always intoxicated, could scarcely be considered as a tutor from whom bacchus was likely to derive much good. in spite of the education he received through the medium of this being, however, the love of glory shone forth conspicuously in bacchus. after having valiantly combatted for jupiter against the giants when they invaded olympus, he undertook his celebrated expedition into the east, to which he marched at the head of an army, composed of men as well as of women, all inspired with divine fury, armed with thyrsuses, and bearing cymbals, and other musical instruments. the leader was drawn in a chariot by a lion and a tiger, and was accompanied by pan, silenus, and all the satyrs. his conquests were easy and without bloodshed; the people easily submitted, and gratefully elevated to the rank of a god, the hero who taught them the use of the vine, the cultivation of the earth, and the manner of making honey; amidst his benevolence to mankind, he was relentless in punishing all want of respect to his divinity. the refusal of pentheus to acknowledge the godhead of bacchus was fatal. he forbad his subjects to pay adoration to this new god, and when the theban women had gone out of the city to celebrate his orgies, he ordered the god himself who conducted the religious multitude, to be seized. his orders were obeyed, but the doors of the prison in which bacchus was confined, opened of their own accord. pentheus became more irritated, and commanded his soldiers to destroy the band of bacchanals. bacchus, however, inspired the monarch himself with an ardent desire of witnessing the orgies. accordingly he hid himself in a wood on mount cithoeron, from whence he hoped to view all the ceremonies unperceived. but his curiosity proved fatal; he was descried by the bacchanals, who rushed upon him. his mother was the first to attack him, her example was instantly followed by his two sisters, and his body was torn to pieces. as bacchus was returning triumphantly in his ship, from the conquest we have recorded, crowned with vine leaves, and flushed with victory, in passing near a beautiful island, he heard a plaintive { } voice and beheld a female, who implored him to yield her his support. [illustration] "oh! think of ariadne's utter trance, crazed by the flight of that disloyal traitor, who left her gazing on the green expanse, that swallowed up his track; oh! what could mate her even in the cloudy summit of her woe, when o'er the far sea-brine she saw him go! "for even now she bows and bends her gaze, o'er the eternal waste, as if to sum its waves by weary thousands; all her days, dismally doom'd! meanwhile the billows come, and coldly dabble with her quiet feet, like any bleaching stones they wont to greet. and thence into her lap have boldly sprung, washing her weedy tresses to and fro, that round her crouching knees have darkly hung, but she sits careless of waves' ebb and flow: like a lone beacon on a desert coast showing where all her hope was wrecked and lost." hood. it was ariadne who addressed him, daughter of memnos, whom theseus, conqueror of the minotaur had abandoned after having seduced her. the god was so smitten with the candour and beauty of his youthful petitioner, that he married her, and offered to her acceptance a crown of seven stars, which after her death, was formed into a constellation. { } "where the rude waves in dian's harbour play the fair forsaken ariadne lay; here first the wretched maid was taught to prove, the bitter pangs of ill-rewarded love, here saw just freed from a fallacious sleep, her theseus flying o'er the distant deep; wistful she looked, nor what she saw, believed, hoped some mistake, and wished to be deceived: while the false youth his way securely made, his faith forgotten, and his vows unpaid; then sick with grief, and frantic with despair, her dress she rent, and tore her golden hair. the gay tiara on her temples placed, the fine wrought cincture that her bosom graced, the fillets, which her heaving breasts confined, are rent, and scattered in the lawless wind. such trivial cares, alas! no room can find, her dear, deceitful theseus fills her mind; for him alone she grieves the live-long day, sickens in thought, and pines herself away. * * * * * * to her relief the blooming bacchus ran, and with him brought his ever jovial train: satyrs and fauns, in wanton chaces strove, while the god sought his ariadne's love. around in wild distorted airs they fly, and make the mountains echo to their cry: some brandish high an ivy woven spear, the limbs, some scatter, of a victim steer: others in slippery folds of serpents shine, others apart, perform the rites divine. to wicked men denied. these, tabors take, these in their hands, the twinkling cymbals shake; while many swell the horn in hoarser strain, and make the shrill, discordant pipe complain, while bacchus, now enamoured of his prize, resolved to make her partner of the skies: she, sweetly blushing, yielded to the god, his car he mounted and sublimely rode: and while with eager arms he grasped the fair, lashed his fleet tigers through the buxom air." dryden. it was not long before bacchus formed an attachment to erigone, the daughter of icarius, and to accomplish his purpose took the form of a bunch of grapes; scarcely was it pressed upon her lips, than she felt thrilling through her frame, the effects of the sweet intoxication. the shepherds residing in the neighbourhood of athens, having come into the vine-yard of icarius, drank to such excess of the juice which was so temptingly presented to their sight, that, in the fury of their intoxication, they slew their host, and threw him into a deep well. { } to expiate his crime, the icarian games were instituted, and mera the trusty dog of icarius, having conducted erigone to the fatal well, she hung herself in the first madness of her grief; while mera, the faithful animal, overwhelmed with consternation at the loss of all he loved, died in sorrow. icarius was changed into the star bootes, erigone took the sign of the virgin, and mera that of the dog-star. to console himself for his loss, the god of the grape paid a visit to proserpine, and the beautiful wife of pluto, was by no means insensible to his merits; but after an absence of three years, bacchus returned to ariadne, whose truth and sweetness of disposition, were untouched by his forgetfulness; and from this time it is pleasing to relate that her wisdom and her faithfulness were rewarded by a constancy, which never afterwards deceived her. one of the most pleasant stories in the whole range of mythology, is related of the youth bacchus. when dwelling in the isle of naxos, where he had been for some years, becoming oppressed with the heat of the sun, he threw himself on the sea-shore, and fell fast asleep; some pirates who called there for water, struck with his extreme beauty, seized the dreaming boy with the determination of selling him for a slave: and so sound was the sleep of the god, that they had proceeded for a long space on their journey before he awoke. fully aware of his divine origin, the deity determined to make a sport of these bold robbers; and pretending the utmost terror, he implored them to say how he came there, and what they were going to do with him. "you have nothing to fear," was the reply, "only tell us what your wish is, and it shall be complied with." "i live at naxos," said the boy, "and there i would fain find myself." perceiving that they continued to steer the wrong course for naxos, bacchus threw himself at their feet, as they made for shore. "those are not the trees of naxos," he exclaimed, "i do not see the hills and valleys of my native land." a speech like this, only drew forth the laughter of his captors, while they continued to row merrily to the shore with their prize. { } "the beauteous youth now found himself betrayed, and from the deck the rising waves surveyed, and seemed to weep, and as he wept he said, 'and do you thus my easy faith beguile? thus, do you bear me to my native isle? will such a multitude of men employ their strength against a weak defenceless boy?'" but behold! the vessel becomes motionless; in vain they plied their oars, their bark moved not: and suddenly vine trees seemed to spring from the planks of the ship, mingling with the cordage and the sails, and twining round the oars, which also became immoveable. much as the sailors were astonished at this phenomenon, it was equalled by their horror, when bacchus waved a spear he held in his hand, in answer to which, tigers and panthers, with others of the most savage beasts of the desert, seemed to swim round the vessel and wanton with the waters. "the god we now behold with opened eyes, an herd of spotted panthers round him lies, in glaring forms: the grapy clusters spread, on his fair brows and dangle on his head." unable to bear the horror of the sight, the robbers threw themselves into the sea, and bacchus turned them into dolphins, then seizing the helm steered the ship towards naxos, attended by his train of dolphins and wild beasts! [illustration] on the altar of bacchus the goat was immolated, because he destroyed the bark and leaves of the vine, and the magpie, because wine makes the tongue of man to chatter like that of the bird. the ivy was consecrated to him, on account of its coolness, which dissipated the fumes of wine, and he carried in his hand a dart called the thyrsis, twined round with leaves of ivy, and of vine. the bacchantes, his ordinary priestesses, bore also in their hands the thyrsis. his feasts were celebrated every three years, and were called orgies, from a word which signifies fury and impetuosity. [illustration: the feast of bacchus.] { } [illustration] the bacchantes went into the mountains with torches in their hands, covered with the skins of tigers and panthers. "and as i sat over the light blue hills, there came a noise of revellers; the rills into the wide stream came of purple hue, 'twas bacchus and his crew. the earnest trumpet spake, and silver thrills from kissing cymbals made a merry din-- 'twas bacchus and his kin. "like to a moving vintage down they came, crowned with green leaves, and faces all on flame; all madly dancing through the pleasant valley, to scare thee, melancholy! o then, o then, thou wast a simple name! and i forgot thee as the berried holly by shepherds is forgotten, when in june, tall chesnuts keep away the sun and moon, i rushed into the folly! "within his car aloft, young bacchus stood. trifling his ivy dart, in dancing mood, with sidelong laughing, and little rills of crimson wine embrued his plump white arms and shoulders, enough white, for venus pearly bite; and near him rode silenus on his ass, pelted with flowers as he on did pass, tipsily quaffing. { } "whence came ye merry damsels! whence came ye, so many, and so many, and such glee? "why have ye left your bowers desolate, your lutes and gentler nature? we follow bacchus! bacchus on the wing, a conquering! bacchus, young bacchus! good or ill betide, we dance before him through kingdoms wide: come hither, lady fair, and joined be, to our wild minstrelsy! "whence came ye, jolly satyrs! whence came ye, so many, and so many, and such glee? why have ye left your forest haunts, why left your nuts in oak tree cleft? for wine, for wine we left our kernel tree; for wine we left our heath and yellow brooms, and cold mushrooms; for wine we follow bacchus through the earth; great god of breathless cups and chirping mirth, come hither lady fair, and joined be, to our mad minstrelsy. "over wide streams and mountains great we went, and save when bacchus kept his ivy tent, onward the tiger and the leopard pants, with asian elephants: onward these myriads--with song and dance, with zebras striped, and sleek arabians prance, web-footed alligators, crocodiles, bearing upon their scaly backs, in files, plump infant laughers, mimicking the coil of seamen, and stout galley-rowers' toil: with toying oars and silken sails they glide, nor care for wind or tide. "mounted on panthers' furs, and lions' manes, from rear to van they scour about the plains; a three days' journey in a moment done, and always at the rising of the sun, about the wilds they hunt, with spear and horn, on spleenful unicorn. "i saw osirian egypt kneel adown, before the vine-wreathed crown; i saw parched abyssinia rouse and sing, to the silver cymbal's ring! i saw the whelming vintage hotly pierce old tartary the fierce, the kings of eld their jewel sceptres vail, and from their treasures scatter pearled hail; great brahma from his mystic heaven groans, and all his priesthood moans, before young bacchus' eye-wink, turning pale!" keats. however, bacchus was often found to be inspired by sentiments of a profoundly tender nature. coressus, one of his favourite priests, { } having unhappily formed a violent attachment to a maiden named callirhoe, found his love returned with hatred, and the more he sought to impress her with his affection, the more hateful did he become. unable to gain her, the priest sought the aid of his god, who, to avenge his sufferings, struck the calydonians with a continual drunkenness, many of them dying of it as of a disease. in the height of their misery they sought the oracle, which declared that their calamity would not cease, until callirhoe was sacrificed, unless some one could be found to pay the penalty for her. [illustration] the oracle must be obeyed: but who would be the substitute? parents wept, and kindred mourned, but none would offer in her stead: and the hour arrived when the unhappy maiden, guilty only of not loving, was crowned and led to the altar, where he who had once been her lover, stood ready to be her slayer. at sight of her, his passion, which had slumbered for a while, burst forth anew, and in an agony of transport, rather than strike one so loved, he { } determined to be her substitute, and on the instant slew himself in her stead. "great father bacchus, to my song repair, for clustering grapes are thy peculiar care; for thee large bunches load the bending vine, and the last blessings of the year are thine; to thee his joys the jolly autumn owes, while the fermenting juice the vat o'erflows, come steep with me, my god; come drench all o'er thy limbs in wine, and drink at every pore!" * * * * * * thus roman youth, derived from ruined troy, in rude saturnian rhymes express their joy; with taunts and laughter loud their audience please, deformed with vizards cut from bark of trees: in jolly hymns they praise the god of wine, whose earthen images adorn the pine; and there are hung on high, in honour of the vine a madness so devout the vineyard fills, in hollow valleys, and on rising hills, on whate'er side he turns his honest face, and dances in the wind, those fields are in his grace. to bacchus, therefore, let us tune our lays, and in our mother tongue resound his praise." virgil. as bacchus was the god of vintage, of wine and of drinkers, he is generally represented crowned with vine and ivy leaves, with a thyrsus in his hand. his figure is that of an effeminate young man, to denote the joys which commonly prevail at feasts; and sometimes an old man, to teach us that wine taken immoderately, will enervate us, consume our health, render us loquacious and childish, like old men, and unable to keep secrets. bacchus is sometimes represented like an infant, holding a thyrsus and clusters of grapes, with a horn. his beauty is compared to that of apollo, and like him, he is represented with fine hair, flowing loosely down his shoulders; the roundness of his limbs and visage, evidence the generous life he leads; while his smiling countenance and laughing eye, are meant to indicate the merry thoughts that are inspired by the juice of the grape. all writers agree in their delineation of the wild madness which distinguished his festivals: witness the following description of a pedestal, on which was an imitation of an altar to bacchus. "under the festoons of fruits and flowers that grace the pedestal, the corners of which are ornamented by the sculls of goats, are sculptured some figures of moenads, under the inspiration of the { } god. nothing can be conceived more wild and terrible than their gestures, touching, as they do, the verge of distortion, into which their fine limbs and lovely forms are thrown. there is nothing, however, which exceeds the possibility of nature, though it borders on its utmost line. "the tremendous spirit of superstition, aided by drunkenness, producing something beyond insanity, seems to have caught them in its whirlwinds, and to bear them over the earth, as the rapid volutions of a tempest have the everchanging trunk of a waterspout; or as the torrent of a mountain river whirls the autumnal leaves resistlessly along, in its full eddies. "the hair, loose and floating, seems caught in the tempest of their own tumultuous motion; their heads are thrown back, leaning with a kind of delirium upon their necks, and looking up to heaven, whilst they totter and stumble, even in the energy of their tempestuous dance. "one represents a faun, with the head of pentheus in one hand, and in the other a great knife. another has a spear with its pine cane, which was the thyrsus; another dances with mad voluptuousness; the fourth is beating a kind of tambourine. "this was indeed a monstrous superstition, even in greece, where it was alone capable of combining ideal beauty, and poetical and abstract enthusiasm, with the wild errors from which it sprung. in rome it had a more familiar, wicked, and dry appearance; it was not suited to the severe and exact apprehensions of the romans, and their strict morals were violated by it, and sustained a deep injury, little analagous to its effect upon the greeks, who turned all things--superstition, prejudice, murder, madness--to beauty." shelley. [illustration] * * * * * { } venus. ------ venus, one of the most celebrated deities of the ancients, was the goddess of beauty, the mother of love, the queen of laughter, the mistress of the graces, and the patroness of pleasure. some mythologists speak of more than one. of these, however, the venus sprung from the froth of the sea "where the moist zephyrs to the favoured shore, from ocean's foam the lovely goddess bore," after the mutilated body of uranus had been thrown there by saturn, is the most known, and of her in particular, ancient mythologists, as well as painters, make mention. she arose from the sea near the island of cyprus, "cytherea! whom the favoured earth of cyprus claims, exulting in thy birth bright queen! adorned with every winning grace, the smile enchanting, and the blooming face. goddess! o'er cyprus fragrant groves who reigns, and salamis high cultivated plains." horace. hither she was wafted by zephyr in a sea-shell, which served as a chariot, and received on the shore by the seasons, daughters of jupiter and themis. [illustration] she was soon after carried to heaven, where all the gods admired her beauty, and all the goddesses became jealous of her personal charms. jupiter even attempted to gain her affections, but venus refused, and the god, to fulfil her destiny, gave her in marriage to vulcan, the most ugly and deformed of the gods. this { } marriage did not prevent the goddess of love from gratifying her inclinations, and her conduct frequently tended to cast dishonour on her husband. her love for mars is perhaps the most notorious on account of the disgrace which accompanied it, while her great partiality for adonis, induced her to abandon her seat in olympus. this mortal, who was fond of the chase, was often cautioned by his mistress not to hunt wild beasts, fearful of his being killed in the attempt; this advice he however slighted, and at last received a mortal wound from a wild boar which he had speared; and great was the misery evinced by venus at his loss. "over one shoulder doth she hang her head; dumbly she passions, frantickly she doteth, she thinks he could not die, he is not dead; her voice is stopped, her joints forget to bow, her eyes are mad, that they have wept till now. * * * * * * "she looks upon his lips, and they are pale; she takes him by the hand, that is cold; she whispers in his ears a heavy tale, as if they heard the woeful words she told: she lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes, where, lo! two lamps, burnt out, in darkness lies." shakspere. venus, after shedding many tears at his death, changed him into a flower. "and in his blood, that on the ground lay spilled, a purple flower sprung up, checkered with white; resembling well his pale cheeks and the blood, which in round drops upon their whiteness stood." shakspere. proserpine is said to have restored him to life, on condition of his spending six months of the year with her, and six with venus, but this is a fable meant to apply to the alternate return of summer and winter. "there is a flower, anemone, the mourner's path it cheers: lo! venus, bowed with agony, by the slain huntsman bends the knee:-- it springs, a child of tears. "then hither, meekest flower!--here blow with hyacinth:--whate'er the legend, 'tis of ruth, of woe: companions meet, together grow, twin nurslings of despair." anon. the affection also which venus entertained for anchises, a youth distinguished by the most exquisite beauty, again drew her { } from heaven, and induced her often to visit, in all her glory, the woods and solitary retreats of mount ida. "she comes! the goddess; through the whispering air, bright as the morn, descends her blushing car, each circling wheel a wreath of flowers entwines, and gemmed with flowers, the silken harness shines; the golden bits with flowery studs are decked, and knots of flowers the crimson reins connect. and now on earth the silver axle rings, and the shell sinks upon its slender springs; light from her airy seat the goddess bounds, and steps celestial, press the pansied grounds." darwin. anchises, however, though warned by her not to speak of their intimacy, boasted of it one day at a feast, and was struck by thunder as a punishment for his disobedience. the power of venus over the heart, was supported and assisted by a celebrated girdle, called _zone_ by the greeks, and _cestus_ by the latins. this mysterious girdle which gave beauty, grace, and elegance when worn even by the most deformed, was irresistible when around beauty: it excited love, and kindled even extinguished flames. juno herself was indebted to this powerful ornament in gaining the favours of jupiter; and venus, though possessed of every charm, no sooner put on her cestus, than vulcan, unable to resist the influence of love, forgot all the intrigues and infidelities of his wife, and fabricated arms even for her illegitimate children. "in this was every art and every charm, to win the wisest, and the coldest warm, kind love, the gentle vow, the gay desire, the kind deceit, the still reviving fire, persuasive speech, and more persuasive sighs, silence that spoke and eloquence of eyes." homer. the contest of venus for the golden apple is well known. the goddess of discord, not having been invited to the marriage of peleus and thetis, evinced her disappointment, by throwing among the assembly of the gods, who were celebrating the nuptials, a golden apple, on which was inscribed, _detur pulchriori_. all the goddesses claimed it as their own, and the contention at first became general; however, juno, venus, and minerva, were left at last to decide between them, their respective right to beauty. neither of the gods was willing, by deciding in favour of one, to draw on him { } the enmity of the remaining two, they therefore appointed paris to the unenviable task. [illustration] the goddesses appeared before their judge, and endeavoured, by profuse offers, to influence his decision. juno promised a kingdom, minerva glory, and venus the fairest woman in the world for a wife. when paris had heard their several claims, he adjudged the prize to venus, and gave her the apple, to which she seems entitled from her beauty. the worship of venus was universally established; statues and temples were erected to her in every kingdom; and the ancients were fond of paying homage to a divinity who presided over love, and by whose influence alone, mankind existed. in her sacrifices, and at the festivals celebrated in her honour, too much licentiousness prevailed: victims, however, were seldom offered to her, or her altars stained with blood. the rose, the myrtle, and the apple, were sacred to venus; among birds, the dove, the swan, and the sparrow, were her favourites. the goddess of beauty was represented among the ancients in different forms. among the most highly valued, was that in the temple of jupiter olympus, where she was represented by phidias, as rising from the sea, and crowned by the goddess of persuasion. ----------"phidias his keen chisel swayed to carve the marble of the matchless maid, that all the youth of athens, in amaze, at that cold beauty, with sad tears did gaze." thurlow. she is generally imaged with her son cupid, in a chariot drawn by doves, or at other times by swans or sparrows. the surnames of the goddess are numerous, and serve to show how well established her worship was all over the earth. she was called cypria, { } because particularly worshipped in the island of cyprus; and received the name of paphia, because at paphos, she had a temple with an altar, on which it was asserted rain never fell, though exposed in the open air. "o queen of love! whose smile all bright glads paphos and the cyprian isle, forsake those loved retreats awhile, and to the temple bend thy flight, where glycera, the young, the fair, invokes thy presence high, while clouds of incense fill the air, and waft her suppliant sigh. "bring in thy train the vengeful boy, and graces (while their robes loose flow gives glances of a breast of snow;) wantoning in their thoughtless joy. let hermes grace the jocund scene, and youth so gay and free; for what is youth, though fair, oh! queen, if destitute of thee?" horace. the cnidians worshipped her under the name of venus acræa, of doris, and of euploca. in her temple of euploca, at cnidos, was the most admired of her statues, being the most perfect piece of praxiteles. it was formed of white marble, and appeared so much like life, that, according to some historians, a youth of the place secretly introduced himself into her temple, to offer his vows of adoration before the lifeless image. hero, in pursuit of whom, leander braved the hellespont, and whose touching story will be more minutely given hereafter, was one of the priestesses of venus, and it was in this occupation that leander first saw and loved her: a love which led to results so disastrous. "come hither, all sweet maidens, soberly, down looking, aye, and with a chastened light, hid in the fringes of your eye-lids white, and meekly let your fair hands joined be, as if so gentle that ye could not see untouched, a victim of your beauty bright, sinking away to his young spirit's night, sinking bewildered mid the dreary sea: 'tis young leander toiling to his death; nigh swooning, he doth purse his weary lips for hero's cheek, and smiles against her smile. o horrid dream! see how his body dips, dead--heavy; arms and shoulders gleam awhile: he's gone--up bubbles all his amorous breath." keats. { } venus was also surnamed cytheræa, because she was the chief deity of cythera; phillommeis, as the queen of laughter; tellesigama, because she presided over marriage; verticordia, because she could turn the hearts of women to cultivate chastity; basilea, as the queen of love; myrtea, from the myrtle being sacred to her; mechanitis, in allusion to the many artifices practised in love; and also goddess of the sea, because born in the bosom of the waters; "behold a nymph arise, divinely fair, whom to cythera first the surges bear; hence is she borne, safe o'er the deeps profound, to cyprus, watered by the waves around: and here she walks, endowed with every grace to charm, the goddess blooming in her face; her looks demand respect, and where she goes beneath her tender feet the herbage blows; and aphrodite, from the foam, her name, among the race of gods and men the same; and cytheræa from cythera came; whence, beauteous crown'd, she safely cross'd the sea, and call'd, o cyprus, cypria from thee; nor less by philomeda known on earth, a name derived immediate from her birth: her first attendants to the immortal choir were love, the oldest god, and fair desire; the virgin whisper, and the tempting smile, the sweet allurements that can hearts beguile, soft blandishments which never fail to move, friendship, and all the fond deceits in love, constant her steps pursue, or will she go among the gods above, or men below." hesiod. as rising from the sea, the name of anadyomine is applied to her, and rendered immortal by the celebrated painting of apelles, which represented her issuing from the bosom of the waves, and wringing her tresses on her shoulder. description of the anadyomine venus. "she has just issued from the bath, and yet is animated with the enjoyment of it. she seems all soft and mild enjoyment, and the curved lines of her fine limbs, flow into each other with a never ending sinuosity of sweetness. her face expresses a breathless yet passive and innocent voluptuousness, free from affectation. her lips, without the sublimity of lofty and impetuous passion, the grandeur of enthusiastic imagination of the apollo of the capital, or the union of both like the apollo belvidere, have the tenderness of arch, yet pure and affectionate desire; and the mode in which the ends { } of the mouth are drawn in, yet lifted or half opened, with the smile that for ever circles round them, and the tremulous curve into which they are wrought, by inextinguishable desire, and the tongue lying against the lower lip, as in the listlessness of passive joy, express love, still love! "her eyes seem heavy and swimming with pleasure, and her small forehead fades on both sides into that sweet swelling, and then declension of the bone over the eye, in the mode which expresses simple and tender feelings. "the neck is full and panting, as with the aspiration of delight, and flows with gentle curves into her perfect form. "her form is indeed perfect. she is half sitting and half rising from a shell, and the fullness of her limbs, and their complete roundness and perfection, do not diminish the vital energy with which they seem to be animated. the position of the arms, which are lovely beyond imagination, is natural, unaffected and easy. this perhaps is the finest personification of venus, the deity of superficial desire, in all antique statuary. her pointed and pear-like person, ever virgin, and her attitude modesty itself." shelley. ----------"breathe softly, flutes; be tender of your strings, ye soothing lutes; nor be the trumpet heard! o vain, o vain! nor flowers budding in an april rain, nor breath of sleeping dove, nor river's flow-- no, nor the oeolian twang of love's own bow, can mingle music fit for the soft ear of goddess cytheræa! yet deign, white queen of beauty, thy fair eyes on our souls' sacrifice." keats. [illustration] { } vulcan. ------ [illustration] vulcan, the son of jupiter and juno, was thrown from heaven by the former, for attempting to assist the queen of olympus when under her husband's displeasure. the whirlwind employed by jove, precipitated him into the island of lemnos. ---------"i felt his matchless might, hurled headlong downward from the ethereal height; tossed all the day in rapid circles round; nor till the sun descended, touched the ground; breathless i fell in giddy motion lost; the sinthians raised me on the lemnian coast." homer. he fell with sufficient velocity to break his thigh, an accident, which, as it made him lame, did not at all tend to render his appearance less ugly than it is usually described. --------------"his hand was known in heaven, by many a towered structure high, where sceptred angels held their residence, and sate as princes; nor was his name unheard, or unadored, in ancient greece; and in ausonian land men called him mulciber; and how he fell from heaven they fabled, thrown by angry jove sheer o'er the chrystal battlements: from morn to noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, a summer's day; and with the setting sun, dropped from the zenith like a falling star, on lemnos, the �gean isle." milton. he was educated by the nymphs of the sea, and trained in his { } youth in the art of working metals, and was able to cultivate those mechanical abilities which he is represented to possess. -------------------"he taught man's earth-born race, that, like the bestial brood, haunted the rugged cave, or sheltering wood, th' inventive powers of doedal art to know, and all the joys from social life that flow; in search no more of casual seats to roam, but rear with skilful hand the lasting dome." horace. in his labours he was assisted by the cyclops, who are said by some, to have possessed but one eye, placed in the middle of the forehead. they inhabited the western part of the island of sicily; but the tradition of their only having one eye originated, in all probability, from their custom of wearing small bucklers of steel which covered their faces, with a small aperture in the middle, corresponding exactly to the eye. they were sometimes reckoned among the gods, and had a temple at corinth, where worship and sacrifices were solemnly offered. "the cyclops brethren, arrogant of heart, who forged the lightning shaft, and gave to jove his thunder; they were like unto the gods, save that a single ball of sight was fixed in their mid forehead. cyclops was their name, from that round eye-ball in their brow infixed; and strength, and force, and manual craft were theirs." hesiod. ------ "thou trusty pine! "prop of my god-like steps, i lay thee by-- bring me a hundred reeds of decent growth to make a pipe for my capacious mouth--" gay. [illustration] the first fruit of the mechanical skill of vulcan, was invented as a punishment for juno, to whom, as it was through her he fell from heaven, he attributed his deformity. this was a throne of gold, with secret springs, on which the goddess no sooner sate, than she { } found herself unable to move. in vain the gods attempted to deliver her; with vulcan, only rested the secret and the power to disenthral her; and as the price of her freedom, juno promised to procure him a wife from amongst the heavenly conclave. vulcan fixed his desires on minerva; the goddess of wisdom, however, laughed his suit to scorn, and vulcan is represented as having been very violent at his rejection. juno then pressed the suit of her son on venus, whose power was already established at the celestial court. the beautiful goddess rejected him with horror, and juno overwhelmed her with supplications; but as these could not subdue the ugliness of the suitor, she implored jupiter to exercise his power; and with all the determination of a goddess, poured so many entreaties, accompanied with tears, that the king of heaven must have complied, had it not been for the more touching and feminine attributes of venus, the soft eyes of whom filled with tears, and whose downy cheek grew pale, at the idea of the union. but destiny, the irrevocable, interposed, and pronounced the decree by which the most beautiful of the goddesses, was united to the most unsightly of the gods. during the festival which followed their union, the altar of hymen was that which received all the offerings. [illustration] a marriage thus assorted, however, was not likely to prove a happy one, and ere long it was followed by a discovery which { } created an ecstacy among the scandal-mongers of olympus. this was no less than an improper liason between mars, god of war, and the charming venus. vulcan, suspecting the infidelity of his wife, formed an invisible net around them, and drew upon the lovers the laughter of the remaining divinities. mars, betwixt rage and confusion, retired for a time to thrace, and venus took refuge in the isle of cyprus, where she gave birth to cupid. vulcan, as we have recorded, was celebrated for the ingenious works and automatical figures which he made, and many speak of two golden statues, which not only seemed animated, but which walked by his side, and assisted him in working metals. "then from the anvil the lame artist rose, wide with distorted leg, oblique he goes; and stills the bellows, and in order laid, locks in their chests his instruments of trade: with his huge sceptre graced, and red attire, came halting forth the sovereign of the fire: the monarch's steps two female forms uphold, that moved and breathed in animated gold. to whom was voice, and sense, and science given of works divine, such wonders are in heaven!" virgil. the most known of the works of vulcan, which were presented to mortals, are the arms of achilles, those of �neas, and the shield of hercules described by hesiod. the chariot of the sun was also by this deity. "a golden axle did the work uphold, gold was the beam, the wheels were orbed with gold: the spokes in rows of silver pleased the sight, the seat with parti-coloured gems was bright." ovid. the worship of vulcan was well established, particularly in egypt, at athens, and at rome. it was customary to burn the whole victim to him and not reserve part of it, as in the immolations to the remainder of the gods. he was represented as blowing with his nervous arm the fires of his forges. his vast breast hairy, and his forehead blackened with smoke; while his enormous shoulders seemed borrowed from the cyclops. some represent him lame and deformed, holding a hammer in his hand, ready to strike; while with the other, he turns a thunderbolt on his anvil, for which an eagle waits by his side to carry it to jupiter. { } he appears on some monuments with a long beard, dishevelled hair, half naked, and a small round cap on his head, while he holds a hammer and pincers in his hand. "------the vulcanean dome, eternal frame, high, eminent, amidst the works divine, where heavens far beaming mansions shine, there the lame architect the goddess found obscure in smoke, his forges flaming round; while bathed in sweat, from fire to fire he flew, and puffing loud, the roaring bellows blew." homer. it is stated that bacchus made him intoxicated after he had been expelled from olympus, and then prevailed on him to return, where he was reconciled to his parents. he seems, however, to have been retained there more for ridicule than any other purpose; and was indeed the great butt of olympus, even his wife laughing at his deformities, and mimicking his lameness to gain the smiles of her lovers. "vulcan with awkward grace, his office plies, and unextinguished laughter shakes the skies." homer. in the month of august, the vulcanalia took place at rome, streets were illuminated, fires kindled, and animals thrown into the flames as a sacrifice. romulus caused a temple to be erected in his honour, and tarquin presented to him the arms and spoils of the conquered; and to him also, was dedicated the lion. [illustration] * * * * * { } cupid. ------ this deity, "the boy-god," as poets love to call him, was the offspring of venus and mars; when venus had given birth to him, jupiter foresaw the mischief he would create in the world, as well as in his more immediate kingdom; he therefore banished him from his court, and menaced him with his wrath, should he return. the goddess conveyed him to the isle of cyprus, where he was suckled by the wild beasts of the forest. no sooner had strength come with years, than cupid, forming a bow of the ash tree, and arrows of the cypress, ungratefully turned against the animals who had supported him. "his quiver, sparkling bright with gems and gold, from his fair plumed shoulder graceful hung, and from its top in brilliant chords enrolled, each little vase resplendently was slung, still as he flew, around him sportive clung his frolic train of winged zephyrs light, wafting the fragrance which his tresses flung: while odours dropped from every ringlet bright, and from his blue eyes beamed ineffable delight." mrs. tighe. experience gave confidence to the youthful deity, and when an opportunity offered, he sent his arrows to the hearts of men, so bold did he even become, that he ventured to dart one, dipped in the subtle poison against his mother. "love! oh! he breathes and rambles round the world an idol and idolator: he flies touching, with passing beauty, ringlets curled, ripe lips, and bosoms white, and starry eyes, and wheresoe'er his colours are unfurled, full many a young and panting spirit lies." barry cornwall. the nymph perestere felt his vengeance in a different manner. cupid was wandering with his mother over a meadow, beautifully enamelled with flowers "all fragrance and of various hues," when, in a playful mood, the youthful deity challenged venus to see which could gather the greatest number in the least time. cupid would have been triumphant, had not perestere, who accompanied them, attempted to win the favour of the goddess, by assisting to fill her basket. in revenge, cupid changed her into a dove. the beautiful fable of the winged deity's love for psyche, is the most pleasing of those related of him. { } the nymph psyche was one of those exquisite beings, so seldom met with in the present degenerate days; and even then, so rare was her beauty, that the people of earth looked on her almost as a divinity, and in some instances would have worshipped her in the belief that she was venus, visiting the earth. "in her bower she lay, like a snow-wreath flung, mid flowers of brightest hue: pouting roses about her hung, violets 'neath her mantle sprung, shedding their light of blue. "pillowed on one fair arm she lay, beneath her silver veil; her golden locks in wanton play, as sunbeams through the mist make way, stole round her bosom pale! "falling waters afar were heard, to lull the slumb'ring fair: yet ever and aye, her soul seemed stirred, in dove-like murmurs, as if the bird of dreams sat brooding there. "all rude winds were hushed to rest; only the enamoured south, wantoning round her swan-like breast-- the silken folds of her azure vest kissed with its fragrant mouth." anon. to one so jealous as venus, this homage paid to psyche was an enormous crime, and she determined to take vengeance for the offence, by punishing her in the tenderest part of a woman's nature; for she commanded cupid to make her fall deeply in love, with the ugliest being he could find. with the intention of fulfilling this commission, cupid visited psyche, but so beautiful was the being he came to see, that he found himself compelled to pay the same homage to her which others had done; and finished by becoming deeply enamoured himself, as he saw "upon her purple couch sweet psyche laid, her radiant lips a downy slumber sealed, in light transparent veil alone arrayed, her bosom's opening charms were half revealed, and scarce the lucid folds her polished limbs concealed. "he half relenting on her beauties gazed, just then awaking with a sudden start, her opening eye in humid lustre blazed, unseen he still remained, enchanted and amazed." mrs. tighe. fearful, however, of his mother's displeasure, he carried on the { } affair with great secrecy, and by his divine power, conveyed her to a palace he had formed in a region full of beauty: here, when the shadows of night had visited the earth, cupid sought the presence of his love. [illustration] "--------who first told how psyche went on the smooth wind to realms of wonderment? what psyche felt, and love, when their full lips first touched; * * * * * * * with all their sighs and how they kist each other's tremulous eyes: the silver lamp--the ravishment--the wonder-- the darkness--loneliness, and fearful thunder." keats. but the happiness which had fallen to the lot of the beautiful psyche, was too delightful and too pure, not to meet with something which should realize the after thought of the poet, that "the course of true love never did run smooth." the restless nature of the nymph would not allow her to remain quietly in possession or her beautiful lot, or in the enchanted place which the power of the god had raised for her, though few could be so delightful, when, "in broad pinions from the realms above, descending cupid seeks the cyprian grove; to his wide arms enamoured psyche springs and clasps her lover with aurelian wings, a purple sash across his shoulder bends, and fringed with gold the quivered shafts suspends; the bending bow obeys the silken string, and, as he steps, the silver arrows ring. thin folds of gauze, with dim transparence flow, o'er her fair forehead and her neck of snow; the winding woof her graceful limbs surrounds swells in the breeze, and sweeps the velvet grounds; { } as hand in hand along the flowery meads, his blushing bride the quivered hero leads; charmed round their heads pursuing zephyrs throng, and scatter roses as they move along; bright beams of spring in soft effusion play, and halcyon hours invite them on their way. delighted hymen hears their whispered vows, and binds his chaplets round their polished brows, guides to his altar, ties the flowery bands, and as they kneel unites their willing hands." darwin. the love which had fallen upon psyche, and the affection which dropped in honied words from cupid's lips, was so endearing, that the nymph longed to communicate the delightful story of her good fortune to her less gifted, but envious sisters. she therefore told them of the glories of her marriage; though her bridegroom had never made himself visible to her, and though to her he had no name save that fond one of husband, yet still she could talk of the beauties of her magic palace, of the musical voice of her invisible lover, and of the heart-touching and passionate endearments he bestowed on her. but all this was no pleasant intelligence to them, for with the malice of ill-nature, they determined to be revenged on her for a happiness which was no fault. they affected to believe that her husband had wicked designs in his concealment, and that he would desert his psyche if he became visible to her--or they asserted that they had no doubt though the lips and skin of this mysterious being seemed so soft to their sister, it was by the power of enchantment, and that the light would reveal a monster whose presence would astonish no less than it would frighten: and succeeded in persuading her, by their next meeting, to provide herself with the means of procuring a light, and a dagger to stab him, should he prove the monstrous being they averred. the next night came, and psyche, when she heard the thrilling tones of her husband's voice, could scarcely keep her secret. dreading the anger of her sisters, however, she waited until cupid was locked in slumber, and from its hiding place procured the light and the dagger. --------------"she softly rose, and seized the lamp--where it obscurely lay, with hand too rashly daring to disclose the sacred veil which hung mysterious o'er her woes." tighe. { } for a time the nymph scarcely dared to cast a glance on the being she was so anxious to view; and stood half shrinking from the desired sight. ----"in her spiritual divinity, young psyche stood the sleeping eros by, what time she to the couch had, daring, trod; and, by the glad light, saw her bridegroom god! o'er him she knelt enamoured, and her sigh breathed near and nearer to his silent mouth, rich with the hoarded odours of the south!" bulwer. but who can conceive her rapturous delight, when, instead of the fearful being she dreaded, she beheld one whose every limb, and every feature, shone with a radiant and celestial beauty. "all imperceptibly to human touch, his wings display celestial essence light; the clear effulgence of the blaze is such, the brilliant plumage shines so heavenly bright, that mortal eyes turn dazzled from the sight; a youth he seems in manhood's freshest years; round his fair neck, as changing with delight, each golden curl resplendently appears, or shades his darker brow, which grace majestic wears." tighe. her eyes were rivetted on his exquisite form, until they forgot all else; even her love, her kindness, and her passionate endearments, all vanished in that long, earnest, and delighted gaze. "speechless with awe; in transport strangely lost, long psyche stood, with fixed, adoring eye; her limbs immoveable, her senses tossed between amazement, fear, and ecstacy, she hangs enamoured o'er the deity." tighe. in the trembling transport which pervaded her, however, there fell a drop of burning wax from the light which she held, on the marble-like shoulder of cupid, and he awoke. "from her trembling hand extinguished falls the fatal lamp. he starts--and suddenly tremendous thunders echo through the halls, while ruins hideous crash bursts o'er the affrighted walls." tighe. the spell was broken--the palace vanished--the god disappeared, and psyche, mourning in bitter tears for her foolish curiosity, found herself standing on a desolate rock. { } "dread horror seizes on her sinking heart, a mortal chillness shudders at her breast, her soul shrinks, fainting, from death's icy dart, the groan scarce uttered, dies, but half expressed, and down she sinks in deadly swoon oppressed: but when at length, awaking from her trance, the terrors of her fate stood all confessed, in vain she casts around her timid glance, the rudely frowning scenes, her former joys enhance. "no traces of those joys, alas! remain; a desert solitude alone appears. no verdant shade relieves the sandy plain, the wide spread waste, no gentle fountain cheers; one barren face the dreary prospect wears; nought thro' the vast horizon meets her eye to calm the dismal tumult of her fears, no trace of human habitation nigh, a sandy wild beneath, above a threatening sky." tighe. the abandoned psyche attempted to drown herself in the neighbouring waters. the stream, fearing the power of the god, returned her to earth upon a bank of flowers. she then went through the world in search of her lost love, persecuted, and subjected to numerous trials by venus; who, determined on destroying, sent her to proserpine with a box to request some of her beauty. the mission was accomplished in safety, but psyche nearly fell a victim to curiosity and avarice; for she opened the box to look at its contents, and endeavoured to take a portion of it to herself, that she might appear more beautiful in the eyes of her lost husband. on opening it, a deep slumber fell on the unwary mortal, and she lay upon the earth, until cupid, luckily escaping from the confinement to which his mother had subjected him, found his lost love, and reproached her for her curiosity. in addition to this, venus imposed upon psyche the most difficult tasks; she poured upon the nymph torments the most excruciating, and took delight in rendering her miserable, who, not content with being taken for the goddess of beauty, had concluded by seducing from her the duty of her son. jupiter, however, was moved to pity by this relentless rigour, and by the touching nature of the story; he took her up to heaven, restored cupid to his place, and making psyche immortal, gave her in marriage to the god of love, in the presence of the celestial inhabitants. to use the elegant language of mr. keightley, { } "the hours shed roses through the sky, the graces sprinkled the halls of heaven with fragrant odours, apollo plays on his lyre, the arcadian god on his reeds, the muses sing in chorus, while venus dances with grace and elegance, to celebrate the nuptials of her son." "so pure, so soft, with sweet attraction shone fair psyche, kneeling at the ethereal throne; won with coy smiles the admiring court of jove, and warmed the bosom of unconquered love. beneath a moving shade of fruits and flowers, onward they march to hymen's sacred bowers; with lifted torch he lights the festive strain, sublime, and leads them in his golden chain; joins the fond pair, indulgent to their vows, and hides with mystic veil their blushing brows. round their fair forms their mingling arms they fling, meet with warm lip, and clasp with nestling wing. hence plastic nature, as oblivion whelms her fading forms, repeoples all her realms; soft joys disport on purple plumes unfurled, and love and beauty rule the willing world." darwin. thus cupid was at length re-united to his beloved psyche, and their loves were speedily crowned by the birth of a child, whom his parents named pleasure. * * * * * psyche. ------ "oh! goddess, hear these tuneless numbers, wrung by sweet enforcement and remembrance dear, and pardon that thy secrets should be sung, even into thine own soft-couched ear: surely i dreamt to day, or did i see the winged psyche with awakened eyes? i wandered in a forest thoughtlessly, and, on the sudden, fainting with surprise, saw two fair creatures, couched side by side, in deepest grass, beneath the whispering roof of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran a brooklet, scarce espied: 'mid hushed, cool rooted flowers, fragrant-eyed, blue, silver white, and budded tyrian, they lay calm breathing on the bedded grass; their arms embraced, and their pinions too; their lips touched not, but had not bade adieu, as if disjoined by soft handed slumber, and ready still, past kisses to outnumber, at tender eye-dawn of aurorean love: the winged boy i knew; but who wast thou, o happy, happy dove? his psyche true! { } o latest born and loveliest vision far of all olympus' faded hierarchy! fairer than phoebus sapphire-regioned star or vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky; fairer than these, tho' temple thou hast none, nor altar heaped with flowers; nor virgin-choir to make delicious moan upon the midnight hours; no voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet, from chain swung censer teeming; no shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming. o brightest! though too late for antique vows too, too late for the fond, believing lyre when holy were the haunted forest boughs, holy the air, the water and the fire." keats. of this deity, poets have written until the god, become identified with the passion, which is addressed by many as immortal. "they sin who tell us love can die; with life all other passions fly, all others are but vanity; in heaven ambition cannot dwell nor avarice in the vaults of hell: earthly these passions of the earth they perish where they have their birth; but love is indestructible: its holy flame for ever burneth, from heaven it came, to heaven returneth. too oft on earth a troubled guest, at times deceived, at times opprest, it here is tried and purified, then hath in heaven its perfect rest: it soweth here with toil and care, but the harvest time of love is there." southey. cupid is usually represented as a winged infant, naked, armed with a bow and quiver full of arrows. on gems and all other pieces of antiquity, he is represented as amusing himself with childish diversions. sometimes, like a conqueror, he marches triumphantly with a helmet on his head, a spear on his shoulder, and a buckler on his arm, intimating that even mars himself owns the superiority of love. "to love, the soft and blooming child, i touch the harp in descant wild; to love, the babe of cyprian bowers, the boy who breathes and blushes flowers, to love, for heaven and earth adore him, and gods and mortals bow before him!" anacreon. among the ancients, he was worshipped with the same solemnity { } as his mother venus; and as his influence was extended over the heavens, the sea and the earth, and even the empire of the dead, his divinity was universally acknowledged, and vows, prayers and sacrifices, were daily offered to him. ------------"bright-winged child! who has another care when thou hast smiled? unfortunates on earth, we see at last all death-shadows, and glooms that overcast our spirits, fanned away by thy light pinions. o sweetest essence! sweetest of all minions! god of warm pulses, and dishevelled hair; dear unseen light in darkness! eclipser of light in light! delicious poisoner! thy venomed goblet will we quaff, until we fill--we fill!" keats. one of the most beautiful of his temples was built within a myrtle grove, the god being extended in the attitude of a sleeping child, under the title of l'amore dominatore. "they built a temple for the god, 'twas in a myrtle grove, where the sweet bee and butterfly, vied for each blossom's love. "i looked upon the altar,--there the pictured semblance lay, of him the temple's lord, it shone more beautiful than day. "it was a sleeping child, as fair as the first-born of spring: like indian gold waved the bright curls, in many a sunny ring. "i heard them hymn his name, his power, i heard them, and i smiled: how could they say the earth was ruled, by but a sleeping child? "i went then forth into the world, to see what might be there; and there i heard a voice of woe, of weeping, and despair. "i saw a youthful warrior stand in his first light of fame, his native city, filled the air with her deliverer's name: "i saw him hurry from the crowd, and fling his laurel crown, in weariness, in hopelessness, in utter misery down. "and what the sorrow, then i asked. can thus the warrior move, to scorn his meed of victory? they told me it was love! { } "i sought the forum, there was one, with dark and haughty brow, his voice was as the trumpet's tone, mine ear rings with it now. "they quailed before his flashing eye, they watched his lightest word: when suddenly that eye was dim, that voice no longer heard. "i looked upon his lonely hour, the weary solitude: when over dark, and bitter thoughts, the sick hearts' left to brood. "i marked the haughty spirit's strife, to rend its bonds in vain: again i heard the cause of ill, and heard loves name again. "i saw an urn, and round it hung, an april diadem of flowers, telling they mourned one, faded and fair like them. "i turned to tales of other days, they spoke of breath and bloom: and proud hearts that were bowed by love, into an early tomb. "i heard of every suffering, that on this earth can be: how can they call a sleeping child, a likeness, love, of thee? "they cannot paint thee, let them dream a dark and nameless thing: why give the likeness of the dove, where is the serpent's sting? l. e. l. we cannot better conclude our account of this important deity, than by the following epigram, written under one of his statues. "whoe'er thou art, thy master see, who was, or is,--or is to be." voltaire. [illustration] { } minerva. ------ minerva, the goddess of wisdom, war, and all the liberal arts, came forth, armed and grown up, from her father's brain, and was immediately admitted into the association of the gods, becoming one of the most faithful counsellors of her father. she was indeed the only one of all the divinities whose authority, and consequence, were equal to those of jupiter. "from jove's awful head sprang forth to light, in golden panoply superbly dight; and while the glittering spear thy hands essayed, olympus trembled at the martial maid. affrighted earth sounds from her deepest caves, and swell of ocean tides the sable waves; the turgid billows sink; in heaven's high plains his steeds the son of hyperion reins, till pallas lays her arms divine aside, while jove his daughter views with conscious pride." horace. the strife of this goddess with neptune is worthy attention: each of them claimed the right of giving a name to the capital of cecropia, and the assembly of the gods decided the dispute by promising preference to whichever could produce the most useful and necessary present to the inhabitants of the earth. neptune, upon hearing this, struck the ground with his trident, and immediately a horse issued therefrom. minerva produced the olive, and obtained the victory by the unanimous voice of the gods, who considered the olive, as the emblem of peace, to be far preferable to the horse, the symbol of war and bloodshed. the victorious deity called the capital athenoe, and became the tutelar divinity of the place. --------"the sandals of celestial mould, fledged with ambrosial plumes and rich with gold surround her feet: with these sublime she sails th' aerial space, and mounts the winged gales; o'er earth and ocean wide, prepared to soar, her dreaded arm a beaming javelin bore, ponderous and vast: which, when her fury burns, proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o'erturns." homer. arachne, a woman of colophon, having acquired great perfection in working with her needle, became impressed with a belief that her powers were superior to those of minerva, goddess of the art. { } this wounded minerva's jealous pride, which was increased by arachnes challenging her to a trial of skill. "from famed pactolus' golden stream, drawn by her art the curious naiads came nor would the work, when finished, please so much as, while she wrought, to view each graceful touch: whether the shapeless wool in balls she wound, or with quick motion turned the spindle round, or with her pencil drew the neat design, pallas, her mistress, shone in every line. this the proud maid, with scornful air denies, and e'en the goddess at her work defies, disowns her heavenly mistress every hour, nor asks her aid, nor deprecates her power." ovid. beautiful as the production of arachne was, which recorded the intrigues of jove, yet it could not compete with that of minerva, who by her divine skill, surpassed all her rival's efforts. "pallas in figures wrought the heavenly powers, and mars's skill among the athenean bowers, each god, by proper features was exprest; jove with majestic mien, excelled the rest, his nine forked mace the dewy sea-god shook, and, looking sternly, smote the ragged rock; when, from the stone, leaped forth the sprightly steed and neptune claims the city for the deed. herself she blazons with a glittering spear, and crested helm that veiled her braided hair, with shield, and scaly breast-plate, implements of war. struck with her pointed lance, the teeming earth seemed to produce a new surprising birth, when from the glebe, the pledge of conquest sprung, a tree, pale green with fairest olives hung." ovid. although her work was perfect and masterly, the goddess was so vexed at the subjects arachne had chosen, that she struck her two or three times on the forehead. "the bright goddess, passionately moved, with envy saw, yet inwardly approved, the scene of heavenly guilt, with haste she tore, nor longer the affront with patience bore; a boxen shuttle in her hand she took, and more than once, arachne's forehead struck." the high spirited mortal, indignant at the blows, and in despair at her defeat, hung herself, and was changed into a spider by minerva. --------"she sprinkled her with juice, which leaves of baleful aconite produce. touched with the poisonous drug, her flowing hair fell to the ground, and left her temples bare. { } her usual features vanished from their place, her body lessened--but the most, her face, her slender fingers, hanging on each side, with many joints the use of legs supplied, a spider's bag, the rest, from which she gives a thread, and still, by constant spinning lives." ovid. minerva when amusing herself by playing upon her favourite flute before juno and venus, was ridiculed by the goddesses for the distortion of her face while blowing the instrument; minerva convinced of the truth of their remarks, by looking at herself in a fountain near mount ida, threw the flute away, and denounced a melancholy death to him who should find it. marsyas was the unfortunate being, and in the history of apollo may be found the fate he experienced through the veracity of her decree. minerva was called athena pallas, either from her killing the giant pallas, or because the spear which she seems to brandish in her hands is called "_pallein_." according to the different characters in which she has appeared, has the goddess been represented. usually with a helmet on her head, and a large plume nodding in the air. in one hand she holds a spear, and in the other, a shield, with the dying head of medusa upon it. "with bright wreaths of serpent tresses crowned, severe in beauty, young medusa frowned; erewhile subdued, round wisdom's �gis rolled, hissed the dread snakes, and flamed in burnished gold flashed on her brandished arm the immortal shield, and terror lightened o'er the dazzled field." darwin. sometimes the gorgon's head was on her breast-plate, with living serpents writhing round it, as well as on her shield and helmet. it was in one of her temples that the following occurrence took place, from which she adopted this device. medusa was the only one of the gorgons who was subject to mortality, and was celebrated for her personal charms; particularly for the beauty of her hair. neptune became enamoured of her medusa once had charms, to gain her love a rival crowd of envious lovers strove. they who have seen her, own they ne'er did trace, more moving features, in a sweeter face: yet above all, her length of hair they own, in golden ringlets waved, and graceful shone. { } her, neptune saw: and with such beauties fired, resolved to compass what his soul desired. the bashful goddess turned her eyes away, nor durst such bold impurity survey." this violation of the sanctity of her temple provoked minerva, and she changed the beautiful locks of medusa, which had inspired the love of neptune, into ghastly and living serpents, as a punishment for the desecration of that sanctuary, where only worship and incense should have been offered. [illustration] "it lieth, gazing on the midnight sky, upon the cloudy mountain peak supine; below, the far lands are seen tremblingly: its horror and its beauty are divine. upon its lips and eyelids seems to lie, loveliness like a shadow, from which shine, fiery and lurid, struggling underneath, the agonies of anguish and of death. "yet it is less the horror than the grace, which turns the gazer's spirit into stone: whereon the lineaments of that dead face are graven, till the characters be grown into itself, and thought no more can trace; 'tis the melodious hue of beauty thrown athwart the darkness and the glare of pain, which humanize and harmonize the strain. "and from its head as from one body grow, as grass out of a watery rock, hairs which are vipers, and they curl and flow, and their long tangles in each other lock: and with unending involutions show, their mailed radiance as it were to mock, the torture and the death within, and saw the solid air with many a ragged jaw, { } "'tis the tempestuous loveliness of terror; for from the serpents gleam a brazen glare, kindled by that inextricable error, which makes a thrilling vapour of the air become a strange, and ever shifting mirror of all the beauty, and the terror there-- a woman's countenance, with serpent locks, gazing in death on heaven, from those evil rocks." shelley. some of the statues of minerva represented her helmet with a sphinx in the middle, supported on either side by griffins. in some medals, a chariot drawn by four horses, appears at the top of her helmet. but it was at the panathenæa, instituted in her behalf, that she received the greatest honour. on the evening of the first day, there was a race with torches, in which men on foot, and afterwards on horseback, contended. to celebrate these festivals, also, the maidens divided into troops, and armed with sticks and stones, attacked each other with fury. those who were overcome in this combat, were devoted to infamy, while they who conquered, and had received no wounds, were honoured with triumphant rejoicings. these fêtes, established in lybia, were transferred to athens, the city to which minerva had granted the olive tree, and which she had taken under her protection. she was adored at troy by the title of pallas, and her statue guarded the city under the name of palladium. some authors maintain that this was made with the bones of pelops--while apollodorus asserts, it was no more than a piece of clock-work which moved of itself. to its possession, was attached the safety of the city; and during the trojan war, ulysses and diomedes were commissioned to steal it away. description of minerva in the florence gallery. "the head is of the highest beauty. it has a close helmet from which the hair, delicately parted on the forehead, half escapes. the attitude gives entire effect to the perfect form of the neck, and to that full and beautiful moulding of the lower part of the face and mouth, which is in living beings the seat of the expression of a simplicity and integrity of nature. her face, upraised to heaven, is animated with a profound, sweet, and impassioned melancholy, with an earnest, and fervid and disinterested pleading against some vast and inevitable wrong. it is the joy and poetry of sorrow making { } grief beautiful, and giving it that nameless feeling, which, from the imperfection of language, we call pain, but which is not all pain, though a feeling which makes not only its possessor, but the spectator of it, prefer it to what is called pleasure, in which all is not pleasure. it is difficult to think that this head, though of the highest ideal beauty is the head of minerva, although the attributes and attitude of the lower part of the statue certainly suggest that idea. "the greeks rarely in their representations of the characters of their gods--unless we call the poetic enthusiasm of apollo a mortal passion--expressed the disturbance of human feeling; and here is deep and impassioned grief animating a divine countenance. it is indeed divine. the drapery of the statue, the gentle beauty of the feet, and the grace of the attitude, are what may be seen in many other statues belonging to that astonishing era which produced it: such a countenance is seen in few." shelley. we have already seen that minerva, not satisfied with being goddess of wisdom, claimed also pre-eminence in beauty, although paris by his judgment, gave the palm of loveliness to venus. [illustration] * * * * * { } mars. ------ mars, the god of war, was the son of juno, who jealous of the birth of minerva, consulted flora, and on the plains near olenus, was shown by her a flower, through the very touch of which she might become a mother. the goddess tried, and from her touch sprang mars. his education was entrusted by juno to the god priapus, who instructed him in dancing, and in every manly exercise. his trial before the celebrated court of areopagus, for the murder of hallirhotius, who insulted a daughter of mars because she slighted his addresses, forms an important epoch in his history. the fiery blood of mars, which would submit to no insult, was immediately in arms at so tender a point, and he slew the insulter. neptune, father of the slain, cited mars to appear before the tribunal of justice, to answer for the murder of his son. the cause was tried at athens, in a place which has been called from thence areopagus, and mars was acquitted. "mars! god of armies! mid the ranks of war, known by thy golden helm, and rushing car, before whose lance, with sound terrific, fall the massy fortress and embattled wall. "father of victory! whose mighty powers, and brazen spears, protect olympus' towers; by whom the brave to high renown are led, whom justice honours, and whom tyrants dread. hail! friend to man! whose cares to youth, impart the arm unwearied, and the undaunted heart!" horace. during the trojan war, mars interested himself on the side of the trojans; but while he defended these favourites of venus with great activity, he was wounded by diomedes, and hastily retreated to heaven, complaining to jupiter that minerva had directed the unerring weapon of his antagonist. "wild with his pain, he sought the bright abodes, there, sullen, sate beneath the sire of gods, shewed the celestial blood, and with a groan, thus poured his plaints before the immortal throne. can jove, supine, flagitious acts survey and brook the furies of the daring day? for mortal men, celestial powers engage, and gods on gods exert eternal rage. from thee, o father! all these ills we bear, and thy fell daughter with the shield and spear. { } thou gavest that fury to the realms of light, pernicious, wild, regardless of the right; all heaven besides, reveres thy sovereign sway, thy voice we hear, and thy behests obey: 'tis hers to offend, and e'en offending, share thy breast, thy counsels, thy distinguished care: so boundless she, and thou so partial grown, well may we deem, the wondrous birth thine own; now frantic diomed, at her command, against the immortals lifts his raging hand; the heavenly venus first his fury found: me next encountering, me he dared to wound: vanquished i fled; e'en i, the god of fight, from mortal madness, scarce was saved by flight, else hadst thou seen me sink on yonder plain, heaped round, and heaving under loads of slain, or pierced with grecian darts, for ages lie condemned to pain, though fated not to die.'" homer. the thunderer treated with disregard the complaint of mars against his favourite daughter, and thus upbraided him: "'to me, perfidious! this lamenting strain, of lawless force, shall lawless mars complain? of all the gods who tread the spangled skies, thou most unjust, most odious in our eyes! inhuman discord is thy dire delight, the waste of slaughter, and the rage of fight. no bound, no law, thy fiery temper quells, and all thy mother in thy soul rebels. in vain our threats, in vain our power, we use, she gives the example, and her son pursues. yet long the inflicted pangs thou shalt not mourn, sprung since thou art from jove, and heavenly born: else singed with lightning, hadst thou hence been thrown, where, chained on burning rocks, the titans groan.'" homer. under the direction of jupiter, the god of war soon recovered. "thus he, who shakes olympus with his nod, then gave to poeon's care the bleeding god. with gentle hand, the balm he poured around, and healed th' immortal flesh, and closed the wound. cleansed from the dust and gore, fair hebe dressed his mighty limbs in an immortal vest, glorious he sat, in majesty restored, fast by the throne of heaven's superior lord." homer. the worship of mars, was not very universal among the ancients, nor were his temples very numerous in greece, but among the warlike romans he received great homage, as they were proud of sacrificing to a deity, whom they considered the patron of their city, and the father of the first of their monarchs; a faith to which { } they loved to give credit. among this people, it was customary for the consul, before he went on an expedition, to visit the temple of mars, where he offered his prayers, and shook in a solemn manner, the spear which was in the hand of the statue of the god, exclaiming "_mars vigila!_ god of war, watch over the safety of this city." the influence of cupid, as god of love, was felt even by mars, who was compelled to acknowledge his power, and the sharpness of his arrows. "as in the lemnian caves of fire, the mate of her who nursed desire, moulded the glowing steel, to form arrows for cupid, melting, warm; once to this lemnian cave of flame, the crested lord of battles came; 'twas from the ranks of war he rushed, his spear with many a life-drop blushed; he saw the mystic darts, and smiled derision on the archer child. 'and dost thou smile?' said little love; 'take this dart, and thou mayest prove that tho' they pass the breeze's flight, my bolts are not so feathery light.' he took the shaft--and oh! thy look, sweet venus! when the shaft he took, he sighed, and felt the urchin's art, he sighed in agony of heart; 'it is not light, i die with pain! take, take thine arrow back again.' 'no,' said the child 'it must not be, that little dart was made for thee.'" moore. the result of his amour with venus has been related in another part of this work. he is usually represented in a chariot of steel, conducted by bellona, goddess of war: on his cuirass are painted several monsters; the figures of fury and anger ornament his helmet, while renown precedes him. his priests, named salii, carried small bucklers, supposed to be sacred, and to have fallen from the skies. to him was consecrated the cock, because it was vigilant and courageous, but they preferred offering the wolf; they sacrificed however, to him, all kinds of animals, and even human victims. the statues and portraits of mars, as the god of war, and consequently the winner of victory, have been very numerous. { } his most celebrated temple at rome, was built by augustus, after the battle of phillippi, and was dedicated to "mars the avenger." [illustration] "_rivers._ and this is he, the fabled god of war. _evadne._ aye, mars the conqueror, see how he stands; the lordly port, the eye of fierce command, the threatening brow, and look that seems to dare a thousand foes to battle. --it was a beautiful faith that gave these gods a name and office! is he not glorious? _rivers._ to my poor thought, there's that within his glance so fierce, i scarce dare meet it. _evadne._ it is your studious nature, yet methinks to gaze upon that proud and haughty form, to think upon the glorious deeds of war, the pomp and pride and circumstance of battle, the neighing of the steed, the clash of arms, the banner waving in the glowing breeze, the trumpet sound, the shout. oh! there is nought so beautiful as this. _rivers._ aye, but to see the living and the dead, lying in mortal agony, side by side, their bright hair dabbled in unrighteous blood, their vestures tinctured with its gory red, the quivering limb, the eye that's glazed in death, the groan-- _evadne._ 'tis lost boy, in the drum and trumpet's voice. 'tis lost in shouts of glorious victory, 'tis lost in high, triumphal tones of gladness. { } _rivers._ but then to think upon the hearts that grieve. for those who peril thus their lives in war, the misery that sweeps along the brain, the widows' moan, the orphans' tears of woe, the love that watcheth at the midnight hour, and hopeth on, but hopeth on in vain. _evadne._ and that is lost too in their country's shouts the voice of gratitude for those that fell, drowns every thought in those who live to mourn; the hand of charity for those who are left. fills every heart and dries up every fear; the record of a nation's loud applause, writes on their tombs in characters of brass. and graves within our very souls, the words, 'here lies his country's saviour.' _rivers._ but these can never pay the wrung in heart: pride is a poor exchange for those adored: and even a nation with its giant strength, cannot supply the vacant place of love! _evadne._ shame on such craven thoughts, the image of the god frowns on your words-- all glorious mars! be thou my god and guide, be thou the image to fill up my heart, be thou the spirit leading me to glory, and be my latest hour still cheered by thee, while round me dwells the shout of victory!" fletcher. mars was the presider over gladiators, and was the god of all exercises, which have in them a manly or spirited character. [illustration] { } neptune, ------ --------"the god whose potent hand shakes the tumultuous sea, and solid land: the ocean lord, o'er helicon who reigns, o'er spacious �gæ's wide extended plains; to whom the gods, with equal skill concede, to guide the bark and tame the fiery steed," horace. was the son of saturn, and brother to jupiter, pluto, and juno; being restored to life by the draught administered to saturn, the portion of the kingdom allotted to him was that of the sea. this, however, did not seem equivalent to the empire of heaven and earth, which jupiter had claimed; he therefore conspired with the other gods to dethrone his brother. the conspiracy was discovered, and jupiter condemned neptune to assist in building the walls of troy, and to be subservient to his sceptre for a year. when the work was completed, laomedon refused to reward the labours of the god, and in retribution, his territories were soon afterwards laid waste by the god of the sea, and his subjects visited with a pestilence sent by apollo. besides the dispute this deity had with minerva, related in her history, he claimed the isthmus of corinth from apollo; and briareus, the cyclops, who was mutually chosen umpire, gave the isthmus to neptune, and the promontory to apollo. neptune, as god of the sea, was entitled to more power than any of the other deities, except jupiter. not only the oceans, rivers, and fountains, were subjected to him, but he could also cause earthquakes at pleasure, and raise islands from the sea by a blow of his trident. ----------------"king of the stormy sea! brother of jove, and co-inheritor of elements eternally before thee, the waves awful bow. fast, stubborn rock; at thy feared trident, shrinking, doth unlock its deep foundations, hissing into foam. all mountain-rivers, lost, in the wide home of thy capacious bosom, ever flow. thou frownest, and old �olus, thy foe, skulks to his cavern, mid the gruff complaint of all his rebel tempests. dark clouds faint when, from thy diadem, a silver gleam slants over blue dominion. thy bright team gulfs in the morning light, and scuds along to bring thee nearer to that golden song { } apollo singeth, while his chariot waits at the door of heaven. thou art not for scenes like this; an empire stern hast thou; and it hath furrowed that large front: yet now, as newly come of heaven, dost thou sit, to blend and inter-knit subdued majesty with this glad time. o shell born king sublime! we lay our hearts before thee evermore-- we sing and we adore!" keats. he obtained amphitrite, daughter of ocean, in marriage, through the skill of a dolphin, although she had made to herself a vow of perpetual celibacy; and had by him, triton, one of the sea deities. to the story of neptune, may be attached the beautiful fable of arion, the illustrious rival of amphion and orpheus. [illustration] this famous lyric poet and musician, having gone into italy, with periander, tyrant of corinth, he obtained immense treasures through his profession. on his return to his native country with his riches, the sailors of the vessel in which he had embarked, resolved to murder him, that they might obtain possession of his wealth; when the poet discovered their intention, he endeavoured to outwit them. { } "allow me," said arion, with all the earnestness of an enthusiast. "ere i leave this world, oh! allow me to touch once more, and for the last time, the strings of the lyre which has so often cheered me: let the last moments of my life, be soothed by its gentle influence." the boon was granted, and the divine strains of the master, issued in solemn beauty over the deep. at the sound, the traitors were struck silent, and hesitated in their course, but they had gone too far: it was too late to recede, and the poet was thrown into the deep. when lo! the dolphins, attracted by the sweet tones which they had heard, gathered round him; and arion, mounted on the back of one, and accompanied by the remainder arrived safely at the end of his voyage. it is added, as an instance of the ingratitude of mortals, that the dolphin, having proceeded too far upon the sand, was unable to get back to the water, and the ungrateful arion allowed his liberator to perish. [illustration] the worship of neptune was established in almost every part of the earth, and the libyans in particular, venerated him above all other gods. ------"great neptune! i would be advanced to the freedom of the main, and stand before your vast creation's plain, and roam your watery kingdom thro' and thro' { } and see your branching woods and palace blue, spar-built and domed with crystal: aye and view the bedded wonders of the lonely deep; and see on coral banks, the sea-maids sleep, children of ancient nereus, and behold their streaming dance about their father old, beneath the blue egean; where he sate, wedded to prophecy, and full of fate! or rather, as arion harped, indeed, would i go floating on my billow-steed, over the billows, and triumphing there, call the white syren from her cave to share my joy, and kiss her willing forehead fair." keats. to him was consecrated the horse, and in his honour were celebrated the isthmian games. his throne was a chariot drawn by four fiery steeds; his stature is grand, and his appearance imposing; he wears the look of an old man, his long beard and hair, wet with the vapour of the water. in his hand he holds the trident, which bids the waves of ocean to rise, and causes the thunder of its tempests. with this trident also, he shakes the world, and bids the earth to tremble. during the _consualia_ of the romans, horses were led through the streets, finely equipped, and crowned with garlands, as the god in whose honour the festivals were instituted, had produced the horse, an animal so beneficial for the use of mankind. as monarch of the sea, he is supposed to have had possession of the deep, and all the treasures which the stormy winds sent to his domain. "what hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and cells? thou hollow-sounding, and mysterious main! pale glistening pearls, and rainbow-coloured shells, bright things which gleam unrecked of, and in vain; keep, keep thy riches, melancholy sea. we ask not such from thee! "yet more, the depths have more! what wealth untold, far down, and shining thro' their stillness lies; thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold, won from ten thousand royal argosies; sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful main; earth claims not these again! "yet more, the depths have more! thy waves have rolled, above the cities of a world gone by! sand hath filled up the palaces of old, sea-weed o'er-grown the halls of revelry. dash o'er them, ocean! in thy scornful play! man yields them to decay { } yet more! the billows and the depths have more! high hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast! they hear not now the booming waters roar, the battle thunders will not break their rest; keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave, give back the true and brave! "give back the lost and lovely! those for whom the place was kept at board and hearth so long; the prayer went up thro' midnight's breathless gloom, and the vain yearning woke midst festal song! hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown, but all is not thine own! "to thee the love of woman hath gone down, dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head, o'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown, yet must thou hear a voice--restore the dead! earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee! restore the dead thou sea!" hemans. * * * * * pluto. ------ the name of pluto, as god of the kingdom of hell, and whatever is under the earth, where "------------cerberus, the cruel worm of death, keeps watchful guard, and with his iron throat, affrights the spirits in their pale sojourn," thurlow. is as well known to the readers of mythology as that of his brother jupiter. the place of his residence being gloomy, and consequently unbearable to those goddesses whose hand he sought in marriage, and who looked for a gayer life than he could offer them, they all refused to become the sharer of his possessions. pluto, however, was by no means willing to sit quietly down in single blessedness, thinking, perhaps, that the very reason which they assigned for their refusal, was an additional one in his favour for wishing a soother of his lot. it was in his visit to the island of sicily, that the god saw and became enamoured of proserpine, as she gathered flowers in the plains of enna. { } ------"he comes to us from the depths of tartarus. for what of evil doth he roam from his red and gloomy home. in the centre of the world where the sinful dead are hurled? mark him as he moves along, drawn by horses black and strong. such as may belong to night, ere she takes her morning flight, now the chariot stops: the god on our grassy world hath trod, like a titan steppeth he, yet full of his divinity. on his mighty shoulders lie raven locks, and in his eye a cruel beauty, such as none of us may wisely look upon." barry cornwall. in vain she called upon her attendants for help, the god bore her off to his dominions, and she became his bride. [illustration] "so in sicilia's ever blooming shade, the playful proserpine from ceres strayed. led with unwary step her virgin trains o'er etna's steeps, and enna's golden plains; plucked with fair hand the silver blossomed bower, and purpled mead,--herself a fairer flower; { } sudden, unseen amid the twilight glade, rushed gloomy dis, and seized the trembling maid. her startling damsels sprung from mossy seats, dropped from their gauzy laps the gathered sweets, clung round the struggling nymph, with piercing cries pursued the chariot, and invoked the skies;-- pleased as he grasps her in his iron arms, frights with soft sighs, with tender words alarms; the wheels descending, rolled in smoky rings, infernal cupids flapped their demon wings; earth with deep yawn received the fair amazed, and far in night, celestial beauty blazed." darwin. at the entrance of the place of torments was an enormous vestibule, tenanted by black anxieties, regrets, groans, remorse, pale malady, decay, fright, hunger, poverty, death, sleep, fierce joy, rage, and the eumenides, or furies, who were seated on a couch of iron, and crowned with blood-stained serpents. a deep and dark cavern led towards tartarus, which was surrounded by the river acheron; charon conducted over this water the souls of those sent to him by death, while any to whom the rites of sepulchre had not been granted, were for a hundred years allowed to solicit their passage in vain. if any living person presented himself to cross the lake, he could not be admitted before he showed charon a golden bough; and charon was once imprisoned for a year, because he had ferried hercules over without this passport. cerberus, a dog with three heads, watched at the entrance to tartarus. "a horrid dog and grim, couched on the floor, guards, with malicious art, the sounding door; on each, who in the entrance first appears, he fawning wags his tail, and cocks his ears; if any strive to measure back the way, their steps he watches, and devours his prey." hesiod. surrounded by an outer wall of iron, this terrible place was enclosed within a wall of adamant. pluto is generally represented as holding a trident with three prongs, and has a key in his hand, to intimate that whoever enters can never return. he is considered as a hard-hearted and inexorable deity, with a grim and dismal countenance, for which reason, temples were not raised to his honour, as to the remainder of the gods; though the story of orpheus shews that he could be occasionally less severe. { } "when ill-fated orpheus tuned to woe his potent lyre, and sought the realms below; charmed into life unreal forms respired, and list'ning shades the dulcet note admired. love led the sage through death's tremendous porch, cheered with his smile, and lighted with his torch; hell's triple dog his playful jaws expands, fawns round the god, and licks his baby hands; in wondering groups the shadowy nations throng, and sigh or simper, as he steps along; sad swains, and nymphs forlorn, on lethe's brink, hug their past sorrows, and refuse to drink; night's dazzled empress feels the golden flame play round her breast, and melt her frozen frame; charms with soft words, and sooths with amorous wiles, her iron-hearted lord, and pluto smiles. his trembling bride the bard triumphant led from the pale mansions of the astonished dead; gave the fair phantom to admiring light, ah! soon again to tread irrevocable night!" darwin. black victims, and particularly the bull, were the only sacrifices which were offered to him, and their blood was not sprinkled on the altars, but permitted to run down into the earth to penetrate the realms of the god. the syracusans paid yearly homage to him near the fountain of cyane, into which one of the attendant maidens of proserpine had been metamorphosed, and where he had, according to the received traditions, disappeared with the goddess. --------"on the ground, she sinks without a single sound, and all her garments float around; again, again she rises light, her head is like a fountain bright, and her glossy ringlets fall with a murmur musical, o'er her shoulders, like a river that rushes and escapes for ever. is the fair cyane gone? is this fountain left alone for a sad remembrance, where we may in after times repair, with heavy heart and weeping eye, to sing songs to her memory?" barry cornwall. from the functions, and the place he inhabited, he received different names, and became the god of the infernal regions, of death, and of funerals. that he might govern with order and regularity, the spirits who { } were inhabitants of his vast dominions, he committed part of his power to three judges of the infernal regions, of whom minos and rhadamanthus were the most important. he sate in the middle, holding a sceptre in his hand. the dead pleaded their different causes before him, and the impartial judge shakes the fatal urn which is filled with the destinies of mankind. rhadamanthus was employed in compelling the dead to confess their crimes, and in punishing them for their offences. [illustration] "awful rhadamanthus rules the state. he hears and judges each committed crime, inquires into the manner, place, and time: the conscious wretch must all his acts reveal, loth to confess, unable to conceal, from the first moment of his vital breath, to his last year of unrepenting death." amongst the most notorious criminals plunged in tartarus, were the titans; sisyphus, a celebrated robber, condemned to roll an enormous stone to the summit of a high mountain, from which it fell again without ceasing, that he might be eternally employed in this punishment; ixion who had dared to offer impure vows to juno, and was affixed to a wheel which went constantly round, rendering his punishment also eternal; with tantalus, condemned to a burning thirst, and surrounded by the grateful liquid which always vanished before his touch. { } --------"tantalus condemned to hear the precious stream still purling in his ear; lip-deep in what he longs for, and yet curst with prohibition and perpetual thirst." cowper. the danaides, daughters of danaus, king of argos, were also there, who, in obedience to the cruel advice of their parent, had caused their husbands to perish; with tityus, who having had the audacity to attempt the honour of latona, was doomed to feel a vulture constantly gnawing his entrails. [illustration] ulysses sought the realm of pluto, among his many adventures. "when lo! appeared along the dusky coasts, thin, airy shoals of visionary ghosts: fair, pensive youths, and young enamoured maids; and withered elders, pale and wrinkled shades; ghastly with wounds the forms of warriors slain, stalked with majestic port, a martial train; these and a thousand more, swarmed o'er the ground, and all the dire assembly shrieked around. astonished at the sight, aghast i stood, and a cold fear ran shivering through my blood." while here he saw the ghosts of all those famed in story, who had descended to the infernal regions for punishment. "high on a throne, tremendous to behold, stern minos waves a mace of burnished gold; around, ten thousand, thousand spectres stand, thro' the wide dome of dis, a trembling band. still as they plead, the fatal lot he rolls, absolves the just, and dooms the guilty souls. there huge orion, of portentous size, swift thro' the gloom, a giant hunter flies; a ponderous mace of brass with direful sway aloft he whirls to crush the savage prey! stern beasts in trains that by his truncheon fell, now grisly forms, shoot o'er the lawns of hell. there tityus, large and long, in fetters bound, o'erspreads nine acres of infernal ground; { } two ravenous vultures, furious for their food, scream o'er the fiend, and riot in his blood, incessant gore the liver in his breast, th' immortal liver grows, and gives the immortal feast. there tantalus along the stygian bounds pours out deep groans (with groans all hell resounds); ev'n in the circling floods refreshment craves, and pines with thirst amidst a sea of waves; when to the water he his lip applies, back from his lip the treacherous water flies, above, beneath, around his hapless head, trees of all kinds delicious fruitage spread; there figs sky-dy'd, a purple hue disclose, green looks the olive, the pomegranate grows, there dangling pears exalting scents unfold, and yellow apples ripen into gold: the fruit he strives to seize, but blasts arise, toss it on high, and whirl it to the skies. i turned my eye, and, as i turned, surveyed a mournful vision! the sisyphian shade; with many a weary step, and many a groan, up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone; the huge round stone, resulting with a bound, thunders impetuous down and smokes along the ground, again the restless orb his toil renews, dust mounts in clouds, and sweat descends in dews." [illustration] * * * * * { } mercury. ------ though according to cicero, there were no less than five gods of this name; yet to the son of jupiter and maia, the actions of all the others have been probably attributed, as he is the most famous and the best known. mercury was the messenger of the gods and the patron of travellers and shepherds; he conducted the souls of the dead into the infernal regions, and not only presided over orators and merchants, but was also the god of thieves, pickpockets, and all dishonest persons. --------"a babe, all babes excelling, a schemer subtle beyond all belief, a shepherd of thin dreams, a cow stealing, a night watching and door waylaying thief." shelley. the day following his birth he offered an early proof of his dishonest propensities, by stealing away the oxen of admetus which apollo tended. "the babe was born at the first peep of day, he began playing on the lyre at noon, and the same evening did he steal away apollo's herds." shelley. he gave another proof of this propensity, by throwing himself upon the timid cupid, and wrestling from him his quivers; and increased his notoriety by robbing venus of her girdle, mars of his sword, jupiter of his sceptre, and vulcan of his mechanical instruments. [illustration] "hermes with gods and men, even from that day mingled and wrought the latter much annoy, and little profit, going far astray, through the dun night." shelley. { } as the messenger of jupiter, he was entrusted with all his secrets and permitted to make himself invisible whenever he pleased, or to assume any shape he chose. the invention of the lyre and seven strings is ascribed to him, which he gave to apollo, and received in exchange the celebrated caduceus, with which the god of poetry used to drive the flocks of king admetus. this celebrated instrument was a rod entwined at one end by two serpents. ------------------------"come take the lyre--be mine the glory of giving it-- strike the sweet chords, and sing aloud and wake the joyous pleasure out of many a fit of tranced sound--and with fleet fingers make thy liquid voiced comrade talk with thee; it can talk measured music eloquently. then bear it boldly to the revel loud, love wakening dance, or feast of solemn state, a joy by night or day, for those endowed with art and wisdom, who interrogate! it teaches, bubbling in delightful mood all things which make the spirit most elate, soothing the mind with sweet familiar play, chasing the heavy shadows of dismay." shelley. "o hermes, thou who couldst of yore amphion's bosom warm, and breathe into his strains the power, the rugged rocks to charm; breathe, breathe into my lyre's soft string, and bid its music sweet notes fling, for what o lyre, can thee withstand? touched by an orpheus' magic hand, thou calm'st the tiger's wrath: the listening woods thou draw'st along, the rivers stay to hear thy song, and listen still as death. tityos with pleasure heard thy strain, and ixion smiled amid his pain." horace. numerous were the modes of sacrifice to mercury, and the places in which they were offered; among others, the roman merchants yearly celebrated a festival in his honour. after the votaries had sprinkled themselves with water, they offered prayers to the divinity, and entreated him to be favourable to them, and to forgive any artful measures, perjuries, or falsehoods they had used in the pursuit of gain; and this may be considered to have been particularly necessary when it is remembered that the merchants, who had promised him all the incense in the world to obtain his { } protection, proved that they had profited by his principles, by offering him only a hundredth part, when they had secured his good offices. jupiter soon missed the services of his intelligent messenger, and recalled him to olympus. here, mercury rendering some kindness to venus, the goddess fell in love with him, and bore to him hermaphrodite, a child which united the talents of his father with the graces of his mother; at the age of fifteen, he began to travel, and bathing one day in a fountain in cana, excited the passion of salmaeis, the nymph who presided over it. "from both the illustrious authors of his race the child was named; nor was it hard to trace both the bright parents through the infant's face. when fifteen years, in ida's cool retreat, the boy had told, he left his native seat, and sought fresh fountains in a foreign soil: the pleasure lessened the attending toil. with eager steps the lycian fields he crossed, and fields that border on the lycian coast; a river here he viewed so lovely bright, it showed the bottom in a fairer light, nor kept a sand concealed from human sight. the fruitful banks with cheerful verdure crowned, and kept the spring eternal on the ground. a nymph presides, nor practised in the chase, nor skilful at the bow, nor at the race; of all the blue-eyed daughters of the main, the only stranger to diana's train; her sisters often, as 'tis said, would cry 'fye, salmaeis, what always idle! fye; or take the quiver, or the arrows seize and mix the toils of hunting with thy ease.' nor quivers she, nor arrows e'er would seize, nor mix the toils of hunting with her ease; but oft would bathe her in the crystal tide, oft with a comb her dewy locks divide; now in the limped streams she views her face, and dressed her image in the floating glass: on beds of leaves she now reposed her limbs, now gathered flowers that grew about her streams, and there by chance was gathering as she stood to view the boy--" ovid. hermaphroditus continued deaf to all entreaties and offers; and salmaeis, throwing her arms around him, entreated the gods to render her inseparable from him whom she adored. the gods heard her prayer, and formed of the two, a being of perfect beauty, preserving the characteristics of both sexes. { } offerings were made to him of milk and honey, because he was the god of eloquence, whose powers were sweet and persuasive. sometimes his statues represent him without arms, because the power of speech can prevail over everything. the greeks and romans celebrated his festivals, principally in the month of may. they frequently placed on his back the statue of minerva, and offered to him the tongues of the victims whom they immolated to the goddess. "who beareth the world on his shoulders so broad; hear me, thou power, who, of yore, by thy words couldst soften the hearts of the barbarous hordes, and by the palæstia taught him of the wild to be gentle, and graceful, and meek as a child. thou messenger fleet of the cloud-throned sire, 'twas thou who inventedst the golden-stringed lyre; i hail thee the patron of craft and of guile, to laugh while you grieve, to deceive while you smile, when you chafed into wrath bright apollo of old, his dun-coloured steers having stol'n from the fold, he laughed; for, while talking all fiercely he found that his quiver, alack! from his back was unbound. 'twas thou, who old priam didst guide on his way, when he passed unperceived thro' the hostile array, of the proud sons of atreus, who sought to destroy the towers of high ilion, the city of troy. o hermes, 'tis thou who conductest the blest to the seats where their souls shall for ever exist, who governest their shades by the power of thy spell, the favourite of heaven, the favourite of hell." horace. [illustration] * * * * * { } nereids ------ these divinities were children of nereus and dorus. as the dryads and hamadryads presided over forests--as the naiads watched over fountains and the sources of rivers--as the oreads were the peculiar guardians of the hills, so the nereids guided and commanded the waves of the ocean, and were implored as its deities. they had altars chiefly on the coast of the sea, where the piety of mankind made offerings of milk, oil, and honey, and often of the flesh of goats. when they were on the sea shore, they generally resided in grottos and caves, adorned with shells. [illustration] there were fifty of them, all children of nereus, who is represented as an old man with a long flowing beard, and hair of an azure colour. the chief place of his residence was in the egean sea, where he was attended by his daughters, who often danced in chorus round him. he had the gift of prophecy, and informed those who consulted him, of the fate which awaited them, though such was the god's aversion to his task, that he often evaded the importunities of the inquirers, by assuming different shapes, and totally escaping from their grasp. * * * * * { } divinities of the second class. ------ the gods of the first order, were endowed by the writers of antiquity, with natures partly real, and partly imaginary. by their power, the government of the universe was carried on; but mortals in attributing to these gods their own passions and weaknesses, began to blend with them divinities of a secondary class, to preside over those less important affairs, which might be supposed unworthy the notice of the superior intelligences. for the most part, therefore, these immortals have no origin in history; but, as allusions are constantly made to them in the eloquent language of the orator, or in the beautiful metaphor of the poet, it is necessary to introduce those who are considered to be the most celebrated. and for the future, the poetry offered will principally be that which relates rather to the attributes they were supposed to possess, than to the gods themselves. thus, with such deities as �olus and mors, we shall introduce poems addressed to the wind and death, over which they presided, as suited to the modern character of our mythology, and more generally appreciated by the readers of the nineteenth century. divinities of the earth. pan. pan was the god of shepherds, and of all inhabitants of the country; he was the son of mercury by driope, and is usually described as possessing two small horns on his head, his complexion ruddy, his nose flat, and his legs, thighs, tail and feet hairy, like those of a goat. when he was brought into the world, the nurse, terrified at sight of him, ran away in horror, and his father wrapping him up in the skins of beasts, carried him to heaven, where jupiter and the other gods, entertained themselves with the oddity of his appearance; bacchus was delighted with him, and gave him the name of pan. --------------"sprung the rude god to light; of dreadful form, and horrible to sight; goat-footed, horned, yet full of sport and joy, the nurse, astonished, fled the wondrous boy: { } his shaggy limbs, the trembling matron feared, his face distorted, and his rugged beard: but hermes from her hands received the child, and on the infant god auspicious smiled. in the thick fur wrapped of a mountain hare, his arms the boy to steep olympus bear; proudly he shows him to imperial jove, high seated 'mid the immortal powers above. with friendly joy and love, the race divine, but chiefly bacchus, god of mirth and wine, received the dauntless god, whom pan they call, pan, for his song delights the breast of all." horace. this god of the shepherds chiefly resided in arcadia, where the woods and the mountains were his habitation. ------------"his mighty palace roof doth hang from jagged trunks, and overshadoweth eternal whispers, glooms, the birth, life, death, of unseen flowers in heavy peacefulness. who loves to see the hamadryads dress their ruffled locks, where meeting hazels darken, and through whole solemn hours, dost sit and harken the dreary melody of bedded reeds." keats. the flute was invented by pan, and formed of seven reeds, which he called syrinx, in honour of a beautiful nymph of the same name, who, refusing his addresses, was changed into a reed. ----------------"a nymph of late there was, whose heavenly form her fellows did surpass, the pride and joy of fair arcadia's plains, beloved by deities, adored by swains. like phoebe clad, e'en phoebe's self she seems, so tall, so straight, such well proportioned limbs, the nicest eye did no distinction know but that the goddess bore a golden bow, descending from lycæus, pan admires the matchless nymph, and burns with new desires. a crown of pine upon his head he wore, and then began her pity to implore. but ere he thus began, she took her flight, so swift she was already out of sight, nor staid to hear the courtship of the god: but bent her course to ladon's gentle flood: there by the river stopped, and tired before relief from water-nymphs her prayers implore, now while the rural god with speedy pace, just thought to strain her in his strict embrace, he filled his arms with reeds, new rising in the place: and while he sighs his ill success to find, the tender canes were shaken by the wind, and breathed a mournful air unheard before, that much surprizing pan, yet pleased him more, { } admiring this new music, 'thou' he said, 'who cans't not be the partner of my bed, at least shall be the consort of my mind, and often, often to my lips be joined.' he formed the reeds, proportioned as they are, unequal in their length and waxed with care, they still retain the name of his ungrateful fair." ovid. he was continually employed in deceiving the neighbouring nymphs, and often with success. though deformed in shape and features, he had the good fortune to captivate diana in the appearance of a beautiful white goat. [illustration] his adventure with omphale is amusing; while the latter was travelling with hercules, a sacrifice which was to take place on the following day, caused omphale and the hero to seek separate apartments. in the night, pan introduced himself, and went to the bed { } of the queen; but there seeing the lion's skin of hercules, he fancied he had made a mistake, and repaired to that of the hero; where the female dress which the latter had adopted, deceived the rural god, and he laid himself down by his side. the hero awoke, and kicked the intruder into the middle of the room. the noise aroused omphale, and pan was discovered lying on the ground, greatly discomfited and ashamed. [illustration] the worship of pan was well established, particularly in arcadia, and his statue was usually placed under the shadow of a pine-tree. upon his altars were laid both honey and milk, fit offerings for a rural divinity. "with cloven feet and horned front who roves with choirs of nymphs, amid the echoing groves; he joins in active dance the virgin throng, to pan, the pastoral god, they raise the song. "to pan, with tangled locks, whose footsteps tread each snow-crowned hill, and mountain's lofty head; or wander careless through the lowly brake, or by the borders of the lucid lake." horace. he loved the nymph echo, but in this instance was unsuccessful in his passion, for the latter adored the beautiful narcissus, and { } wandered over hill and dale in search of the youth on whom she had lavished all her affections, but who unfortunately returned them not. to whom is not the tale of the self-slain narcissus known, though perhaps the exquisite story of echo's love for him may be less familiar to the mind. after echo had been dismissed by jupiter, for her loquacity in proclaiming his numerous amours, she fell in love with the beautiful narcissus. "and at the sight of the fair youth she glows, and follows silently where'er he goes." unable, however, to address him first, she waited the sound of his beloved voice. "now several ways his young companions gone, and for some time narcissus left alone, 'where are you all?' at last she hears him call, and she straight answers him, '_where are you all_?' "'speak yet again,' he cries, 'is any nigh?' again the mournful echo answers, '_i_,' 'why come not you,' he said, 'appear in view,' she hastily returns, '_why come not you_?' "'then let us join,' at last narcissus said, '_then let us join_,' replied the ravished maid." in vain had the wondering youth up to this moment looked for the frolic companions, whom he imagined had hid themselves in play. but echo, charmed with his last exclamation, hastily appeared, and threw herself on the bosom of the astonished youth, who, far from submitting with pleasure to the intrusion, "with all his strength unlocks her fold, and breaks unkindly from her feeble hold; then proudly cries, 'life shall this breast forsake, ere you, loose nymph, on me your pleasure take;' '_on me your pleasure take_,' the nymph replies while from her the disdainful hunter flies." as the youth wandered on, anxious only to escape from the society of echo, he suddenly came upon a fountain, in which, as he reclined on the ground, he fancied he saw the figure of a beautiful nymph. "deep through the spring, his eye-balls dart their beams, like midnight stars that twinkle in the streams, his ivory neck the crystal mirror shows, his waving hair, above the surface flows, his own perfections all his passions moved, he loves himself, who for himself was loved." { } half maddened by the appearance of a beauty, of which hitherto he had been unconscious, he made every possible effort to grasp what appeared to be the guardian spirit of the water. "oft with his down-thrust arms he thought to fold, about that neck that still deludes his hold, he gets no kisses from those cozening lips, his arms grasp nothing, from himself he slips; he knows not what he views, and yet pursues his desperate love, and burns for what he views." nothing could win the self-enamoured boy from his devoted passion; but bending over the lucid spring, he fed his eyes with the delusive shade which seemed to gaze on him from the depths. at last "streaming tears from his full eye-lids fell, and drop by drop, raised circles in the well, the several rings larger and larger spread, and by degrees dispersed the fleeting shade." [illustration] narcissus fancied that the nymph upon whom he supposed he had been gazing, was deserting him, and unable to bear the misery which the thought occasioned, he wounded himself in his agony, deeming that life without her would be insupportable. echo, however resentful she had felt for the scorn with which he had treated her, hovered near his footsteps and witnessed this last infatuation with redoubled sorrow. { } "now hanging o'er the spring his drooping head, with a sad sigh these dying words he said, 'ah! boy beloved in vain,' thro' all the plain echo resounds, '_ah! boy beloved in vain!_' 'farewell,' he cries, and with that word he died, '_farewell,_' the miserable nymph replied. now pale and breathless on the grass he lies, for death had shut his miserable eyes." the gods, however, taking pity upon his melancholy fate, changed him into the flower narcissus. many morals have been attempted to be deduced from this beautiful fable, but in none of them have their authors been very successful, unless we may gather a warning of the fatal effects of self-love. "what first inspired a bard of old to sing narcissus pining o'er the mountain spring? in some delicious ramble, he had found a little space, with boughs all woven round, and in the midst of all a clearer pool than ere reflected in its pleasant cool the blue sky, here and there divinely peeping through tendril wreaths, fantastically creeping; and on the bank a lonely flower he spied, a meek and forlorn flower with nought of pride, drooping its beauty o'er the watery clearness to woo its own sweet image unto nearness; deaf to light zephyrus, it would not move, but still would seem to droop, to pine, to love; so while the poet stood in this sweet spot; some fainted dreamings o'er his fancy shot; nor was it long ere he had told the tale of young narcissus, and sad echo's vale." keats. poor pan, undeterred by the zealous passion of echo for narcissus, still continued to love her, and pleased himself by wandering in the woods and deserts, there calling upon her, for the pleasure of hearing her voice in reply. "in thy cavern-hall, echo! art thou sleeping? by the fountain's fall dreamy silence keeping? yet one soft note borne from the shepherd's horn, wakes thee, echo! into music leaping, strange sweet echo! into music leaping. "then the woods rejoice, then glad sounds are swelling, from each sister voice round thy rocky dwelling; and their sweetness fills all the hollow hills, { } with a thousand notes of _one_ life telling! softly mingled notes, of one life telling. "echo! in my heart thus deep thoughts are lying, silent and apart, buried, yet undying, till some gentle tone wakening haply _one_, calls a thousand forth, like thee replying! strange sweet echo, even like thee replying." hemans. this god, so adored and loved in the country, had the power of spreading terror and confusion when he pleased. the gauls, who under brennus, invaded greece, when on the point of pillaging the temple at delphi, were seized with a sudden panic and took to flight. this terror was attributed to pan, and they believed all panics, the cause of which was unknown, were produced by him. it was by the counsel of pan, that the gods at the moment of the assault of typhon, took the figures of various animals, changing himself into a goat, the skin of which was transported to heaven, and formed the sign of capricorn. "from the forests and highlands, we come, we come! from the river-girt islands, where the loud waves are dumb, listening to my sweet pipings. the wind in the reeds and the rushes, the bees in the bells of the lime, the birds in the myrtle bushes, the cicale above in the thyme, and the lizard below in the grass, were as silent as ever old tmolus was, listening to my sweet pipings. liquid peneus was flowing, and all dark tempe lay in pelion's shadow, outgrowing the light of the dying day, speeded by my sweet pipings. the sileni, and sylvans, and fauns, and the nymphs of woods, and waves, to the edge of the moist river lawns, and the brink of the dewy caves, and all that did there attendant follow, were silent with love, as you now, apollo, with envy of my sweet pipings. "i sang of the dancing stars, i sang of the dædal earth, and of heaven, and giant wars, and love, and death, and birth,-- and then i changed my pipings. { } singing how down the vale of menalus, i pursued a maiden and clasped a reed; gods and men were all deluded thus, it breaks in our bosom and then we bleed: all wept, as i think both ye now would, if envy or age had not frozen your blood, at the sorrow of my sweet pipings." * * * * * fauns, sylvans, and satyrs. the fauns were descended from faunus, son of picus king of italy, who was changed by circe into a woodpecker. "faunus who lov'st, thro' woodland glade, to pursue the sylvan maid, pass propitious now, i pray, where my tender lambkins stray: let each field and mountain high, own thy genial presence nigh. since with each returning year, in thy presence, i appear, with the victim's votive blood, mighty monarch of the wood, and upon thy sacred shrine, place the love inspiring wine, and, o'er all that hallowed ground, make the incense breathe around, hear o faunus, hear my prayer, my lands to bless, my flocks to spare. when december's nones return labour's yoke no more is borne, sport the cattle in the meads, the blythesome dance the peasant leads, even, 'mid that time of peace, beasts of prey their fury cease, the lambkin roams all free and bold, tho' feeds the wolf beside the fold, knowing well thy potent arm then protects from every harm. lo, to hail the sylvan king, woods their leafy honours bring, strewing in profusion gay, verdant foliage all the way. freed from toil, the labourer blythe flings aside the spade and scythe, glad to trip in nimble jig, the earth which he dislikes to dig." horace. they were the divinities of the woods and fields, and were represented as having the legs, feet, and ears of goats; the remainder of the body being human; the lamb and kid were offered to them by the peasants with great solemnity. { } the sylvans were the children of the foster father of god bacchus, who accompanied the latter in all his travels. bacchus having been well received and entertained at the court of midas, king of phrygia, he obtained from him the choice of whatever recompense he should name. midas demanded the power of turning all that he touched into gold. "'give me,' says he, (nor thought he asked too much,) 'that with my body whatsoe'er i touch, changed from the nature which it held of old, may be converted into yellow gold:' he had his wish: but yet the god repined, to think the fool no better wish could find. but the brave king departed from the place, with smiles of gladness, sparkling in his face: nor could contain, but, as he took his way, impatient longs to make the first essay; down from a lowly branch a twig he drew, the twig strait glittered with a sparkling hue: he takes a stone, the stone was turned to gold, a clod he touches, and the crumbling mould acknowledged soon the great transforming power, in weight and substance like a mass of ore. he plucked the corn, and straight his grasp appears, filled with a bending tuft of golden ears. an apple next he takes, and seems to hold the bright, hesperian, vegetable gold. his hand he careless on a pillar lays, with shining gold, the fluted pillars blaze. and while he wishes, as the servants pour, his touch converts the stream to danae's shower." ovid. he was quickly brought however to repent his avarice, when the very meat which he attempted to eat, turned to gold in his mouth, and the wine to the same metal, as it passed down his throat. he was now as anxious to be delivered from this fatal gift, as he was before to receive it, and implored the god to revoke a present so fatal to the recipient. "the ready slaves prepare a sumptuous board, spread with rich dainties for their happy lord, whose powerful hands the bread no sooner hold, but its whole substance is transformed to gold: up to his mouth he lifts the savoury meat, which turns to gold as he attempts to eat: his patron's noble juice, of purple hue, touched by his lips a gilded cordial grew: unfit for drink, and wondrous to behold, it trickles from his jaws a fluid gold. the rich, poor fool confounded with surprize, staring on all his various plenty lies: { } sick of his wish, he now detests the power for which he asked so earnestly before: amidst his gold with pinching famine curst, and justly tortured with an equal thirst. at last his shining arms to heaven he rears and, in distress, for refuge flies to prayers. 'o father bacchus, i have sinned,' he cried, 'and foolishly thy gracious gift applied, thy pity now, repenting, i implore; oh! may i feel the golden plague no more!'" ovid. he was told to wash himself in the river pactolus; he performed the necessary ablution, and the very sands were turned into gold by the touch of midas. divine honours were given to silenus in arcadia, and from him the fauns and satyrs are often called sileni. the satyrs, also gods of the country, were considered as mischievous, and inspired by their appearance, great fright in the shepherds--although they bore with them a flute or tambourine, to make the nymphs dance, when they inflamed their senses by the burning nature of their harmony, and the rapid measure with which they trod to the music of these demi-gods. [illustration] to them were offered the first fruits of everything, and they attended chiefly upon bacchus, rendering themselves conspicuous in his orgies, by their riot and lasciviousness. it is said, that a satyr was brought to sylla, as that general returned from thessaly; the monster had been surprised asleep in a cave; his voice was inarticulate, when brought into the presence of the roman { } general, and sylla was so disgusted with the sight, that he ordered it instantly to be removed. the creature is said to have answered the description which poets and painters have given of the satyrs. priapus was the most celebrated among them, as the the son of venus, who meeting bacchus on his return from his indian expedition, was enamoured of him, and with the assistance of juno, became the mother of priapus. juno having vowed vengeance against the goddess of beauty, took that opportunity to deform her son in all his limbs; notwithstanding which, as he grew up, his inclinations and habits became so vicious, that he was known as the god of lewdness. his festivals took place principally at lampsacus, where they consecrated the ass to him; and the people naturally indolent, gave themselves up to every impurity during the celebration. when however his worship was introduced into rome, he became more the god of orchards and gardens, than the patron of licentiousness. he was there crowned with the leaves of the vine, and sometimes with laurel or rocket, the last of these plants, which is said to raise the passions and excite love, being sacred to him. the sylvans, were, like the fauns and satyrs, the guardian deities of the woods and wild places of the earth. terminus was a somewhat curious divinity, presiding over bounds and limits, and punishing all usurpation. his worship was first introduced by numa pompilius, who persuaded his subjects that the limits of their lands and states, were under the immediate inspection of heaven. his temple was on the tarpeian rock, and he was represented with a human head, though without feet or arms, to intimate that he never moved, wherever he might be placed. the people of the country assembled once a year with their families, and crowned with garlands and flowers, the stones which divided their different possessions. it is said that when tarquin the proud, wished to build a temple on the tarpeian rock to jupiter, the god terminus refused to give place, though the other gods resigned theirs with cheerfulness, and the oracles declared from this, that the extent of the empire should never be lessened. * * * * * { } hebe was the daughter of jupiter and juno; though by many she is said to be the daughter of juno only, who conceived her after eating lettuces. being fair, and always possessed of the bloom of beauty and youth, she was termed the goddess of youth, and made by her mother the cup-bearer to all the gods. she was dismissed from her office by jupiter, however, because she fell down as she was pouring nectar to the gods, at a grand festival, and ganymedes, a favourite of jupiter, succeeded to her office. "'twas on a day when the immortals at their banquet lay, the bowl sparkled with starry dew, the weeping of those myriad urns of light, within whose orbs, the almighty power at nature's dawning hour stored the rich fluid of ethereal soul. * * * * * * but oh! bright hebe, what a tear, and what a blush were thine, when, as the breath of every grace wafted thy feet along the studded sphere with a bright cup, for jove himself to drink, some star, that shone beneath thy tread, raising its amorous head to kiss those matchless feet, and all heaven's host of eyes. checked thy career so fleet: entranced, but fearful all, saw thee, sweet hebe, prostrate fall. * * * * * * but the bright cup? the nectared draught which jove himself was to have quaffed! alas, alas, upturned it lay by the fallen hebe's side; while in slow lingering drops, th' ethereal tide, as conscious of its own rich essence, ebbed away," moore. her mother employed her to prepare her chariot, and to harness her peacocks, when required. to her was granted the power of restoring to age the vigour of youth; and after hercules was elevated to the rank of a god, he became reconciled to juno by marrying her daughter hebe. * * * * * { } the centaurs. after the creation of the fauns and sylvans by the poets, the imagination of the latter invented the centaur, a monster, of which the superior part was that of a man, and the remainder that of the horse. [illustration] lycus, a mortal, being detained by circe in her magical dominion, was beloved by a water-nymph who desired to render him immortal; she had recourse to the sorceress, and circe gave her an incantation to pronounce. as lycus walked sorrowfully in the enchanted place, astonished at the many wondrous things which met his eye, he beheld ------"the realized nymph of the stream, rising up from the wave, with the bend and the gleam of a fountain, and o'er her white arms she kept throwing bright torrents of hair, that went flowing and flowing in falls to her feet, and the blue waters rolled down her limbs like a garment, in many a fold." hood. struck with each other's charms they loved, but unhappily the nymph, in her anxiety for her lover's immortality, and while calling upon her mistress to assist her, saw ------------------"the witch queen of that place, even circe the cruel, that came like a death which i feared, and yet fled not, for want of my breath, there was thought in her face, and her eyes were not raised from the grass at her foot, but i saw, as i gazed her hate--" { } this hate lycus soon experienced; as the spell desired by the nymph, was in the act of being pronounced, --------------------"i felt with a start, the life blood rush back in one throb to my heart, and saw the pale lips where the rest of that spell had perished in terror, and heard the farewell of that voice that was drowned in the dash of the stream! how fain had i followed, and plunged with that scream into death, but my being indignantly lagged thro' the brutalized flesh that i painfully dragged behind me--" hood. from this time his existence become a torture to him. though there were none of his former beings to consort with, yet still he loved to haunt the places of his humanity, and with a beating heart and bursting frame, behold the various occupations and pleasures in which he had formerly joined. "i once had a haunt near a cot. where a mother daily sat in the shade with her child, and would smother its eye-lids in kisses, and then in its sleep sang dreams in its ears, of its manhood, while deep in a thicket of willows i gazed o'er the brooks that murmured between us, and kissed them with looks; but the willows unbosomed their secret, and never i returned to a spot i had startled for ever; tho' i oft longed to know, but could ask it of none, was the mother still fair, and how big was her son?" hood. time brought no remedy, for still he was troubled by the absence of sympathy, and the repression of that human feeling which yet clung like a curse to him. "for the haunters of fields, they all shunned me by flight, the men in their horror, the women in fright: none ever remained, save a child once that sported among the wild blue bells, and playfully courted the breeze; and beside him a speckled snake lay tight strangled, because it had hissed him away from the flower at his finger; he rose and drew near like a son of immortals, one born to no fear, but with strength of black locks, and with eyes azure bright, to grow to large manhood of merciful might, he came, with his face of bold wonder, to feel the hair of my side and to lift up my heel, and questioned his face with wide eyes, but when under my lids he saw tears,--for i wept at his wonder, he stroked me, and uttered such kindliness then, that the once love of women, the friendship of men in past sorrow, no kindness, e'er came like a kiss on my heart in its desolate day, such as this { } and i yearned at his cheeks in my love, and down bent and lifted him up in my arms with intent to kiss him--but he cruel--kindly alas! held out to my lips a plucked handful of grass! then i dropped him in horror, but felt as i fled, the stone he indignantly hurled at my head, that dissevered my ear, but i felt not, whose fate, was to meet more distress in his love his hate!" hood. the only mitigation of his sorrow, was that when in thessaly "he met with the same as himself," and obtained with them, if not sympathy, at least companionship. chiron was the wisest of the centaurs. music, divination, astronomy, and medicine, were equally familiar to him, and his name is blended with those of the principal sages of greece, whom he instructed in the use of plants and medicinal herbs. the battle of the centaurs with the lapithæ at the bridal of perithous is famous in history, and was the cause of their destruction. the centaurs inflamed with wine, behaved with rudeness and even offered violence to the bride, and to the women that were present. "now brave perithous, bold ixion's son, the love of fair hippodamé had won. the cloud begotten race, half men, half beast, invited came to grace the nuptial feast: in a cool cave's recess the treat was made, whose entrance, trees, with spreading boughs o'ershade, they sat; and summoned by the bridegroom, came, to mix with those, the lapythæan name: ----------------the roofs with joy resound, and hymen, iö hymen, rung around. raised altars shone with holy fires: the bride lovely herself, (and lovely by her side a bevy of bright nymphs, with sober grace,) came glittering like a star, and took her place. her heavenly form beheld, all wished her joy; and little wanted, but in vain their wishes all employ. for one, most brutal of the brutal brood, or whether wine or beauty fired his blood, or both at once, beheld with lustful eyes the bride: at once resolved to make his prize. down went the board, and fastening on her hair, he seized with sudden force the frighted fair. 'twas eurytus began; his bestial kind his crime pursued, and each as pleased his mind on her, whom chance presented, took. the feast an image of a taken town expressed." ovid. * * * * * { } flora, pomona, vertumnus, the seasons. [illustration] flora was unknown among the greeks, having her birth with the romans. she was the goddess of flowers, --------------------------------"which unveil their breasts of beauty, and each delicate bud o' the season, comes in turn to bloom and perish. but first of all the violet, with an eye blue as the midnight heavens, the frail snow-drop, born of the breath of winter, and on his brow, fixed like a pale and solitary star, the languid hyacinth, and wild primrose, and daisy, trodden down like modesty, the fox-glove, in whose drooping-bells the bee makes her sweet music: the narcissus, named from him who died for love, the tangled woodbine lilacs and flowering limes, and scented thorns, and some from whom the voluptuous winds of june catch their perfumery." barry cornwall. she married zephyrus, and received from him the privilege of presiding over flowers, and enjoying perpetual youth. pomona was the goddess of fruits and fruit trees, and supposed to be the deity of gardens. "her name pomona, from her woodland race, in garden culture none could her excel, or form the pliant souls of plants so well; or to the fruit more generous flavours lend, or teach the trees with nobler loads to bend." { } pleased with her office, and unwilling to take upon herself the troubles of marriage, she vowed perpetual celibacy. numerous were the suitors who attempted to win her from her rash determination, but to all of them the answer was alike in the negative: tho' vertumnus, one of the most zealous, pursued her with unchanging ardour. "long had she laboured to continue free from chains of love and nuptial tyranny; and in her orchard's small extent immured, her vow'd virginity she still secured. oft would loose pan, and all the lustful train of satyrs, tempt her innocence in vain. vertumnus too pursued the maid no less, but with his rivals, shared a like success." ovid. miserable, but not cast down, by the many refusals he met with, vertumnus took a thousand shapes to influence the success of his suit. "to gain access, a thousand ways he tries oft in the hind, the lover would disguise, the heedless lout comes shambling on, and seems just sweating from the labour of his teams. then from the harvest, oft the mimic swain seems bending with a load of bearded grain. sometimes a dresser of the vine he feigns, and lawless tendrils to their boughs restrains. sometimes his sword a soldier shews; his rod an angler; still so various is the god. now, in a forehead cloth some crone he seems, a staff supplying the defect of limbs: admittance thus he gains; admires the store of fairest fruit; the fair possessor more; then greets her with a kiss; th' unpractised dame admired, a grandame kissed with such a flame. now seated by her, he beholds a vine, around an elm in amorous foldings twine, "if that fair elm," he cried, "alone should stand, no grapes would glow with gold, and tempt the hand; or if that vine without her elm should grow, 'twould creep a poor neglected shrub below. be then, fair nymph, by these examples led, nor shun for fancied fears, the nuptial bed." ovid. in this disguise, vertumnus recommended himself and his virtues to pomona. "on my assurance well you may repose, vertumnus scarce vertumnus better knows, true to his choice all looser flames he flies, nor for new faces fashionably dies. the charms of youth, and every smiling grace, bloom in his features, and the god confess." ovid. { } the pertinacious wooing of the metamorphosed deity, had, at last its effect, in preparing pomona for vertumnus, when he should assume his natural shape. "the story oft vertumnus urged in vain, but then assumed his heavenly form again; such looks and lustre the bright youth adorn, as when with rays glad phoebus paints the morn. the sight so warms the fair admiring maid, like snow she melts, so soon can youth persuade; consent on eager wings succeeds desire, and both the lovers glow with mutual fire." ovid. pomona had a temple at rome, and a regular priest, who offered sacrifices to her divinity for the preservation of fruit: she is generally represented sitting on a basket, full of flowers and fruit, holding a bough in one hand, and apples in the other. vertumnus is represented under the figure of a young man, crowned with various plants, bearing in his left hand fruits, and in his right a horn of abundance. the goddess pomona is often confounded with autumn, ceres with summer, and flora with spring. the four seasons have also been described with great distinctness, by poets, both ancient and modern, all of whom were delighted to pour forth tributes of praise in their honour; spring is usually drawn as a nymph, with her head crowned by a wreath of flowers; and many are the strains attributed to her. "i come, i come! ye have called me long, i come o'er the mountains with light and song! ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth, by the winds which tell of the violet's birth, by the primrose stars in the shadowy grass, by the green leaves opening as i pass. i have breathed in the south, and the chesnut flowers, by thousands have burst from the forest bowers, and the ancient graves, and the fallen fanes, are veiled with wreaths on italian plains: but it is not for me in my hour of bloom, to speak of the ruin or the tomb. i have looked o'er the hills of the stormy north, and the larch has hung all his tassels forth, the fisher is out in the stormy sea, and the rein-deer bounds o'er the pastures free, and the fence has a fringe of softer green, and the moss looks bright where my foot hath been. i have sent thro' the wood-paths a glowing sigh, and called out each voice of the deep blue sky; from the night bird's lay thro' the starry time, { } in the groves of the soft hesperian clime, to the swan's wild note by the iceland lakes, when the dark fir-branch into verdure breaks. from the streams and founts i have loosed the chain, they are sweeping on to the silvery main, they are flashing down from the mountain brows, they are flinging spray o'er the forest boughs, they are bursting fresh from their sparry caves, and the earth resounds with the joy of waves! come forth, o ye children of gladness, come! where the violets lie may be now your home. ye of the rose-lip and dew-bright eye, and the bounding footstep to meet me fly! with the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay, come forth to the sunshine, i may not stay. away from the dwellings of care-worn men, the waters are sparkling in grove and glen! away from the chamber and sullen hearth, the young leaves are dancing in breezy mirth! their light stems thrill to the wild wood strains. and youth is abroad in my green domains. but ye! ye are changed since ye met me last! there is something bright from your features past! there is something come over brow and eye, which speaks of a world where the flowers must die! ye smile!--but your smile hath a dimness yet-- oh! what have ye looked on since last we met? ye are changed, ye are changed! and i see not here all whom i saw in the vanished year! there were graceful heads with their ringlets bright, which tossed in the breeze with a play of light, there were eyes, in whose glistening laughter lay no faint remembrance of dull decay! there were steps that flew o'er the cowslip's head, as if for a banquet all earth were spread; there were voices that rung thro' the sapphire sky, and had not a sound of mortality! are they gone? is their mirth from the mountains passed? ye have looked on death since ye met me last! i know whence the shadow comes o'er you now, ye have strewn the dust on the sunny brow! ye have given the lovely to earth's embrace, she hath taken the fairest of beauty's race, with their laughing eyes and their festal crown, they are gone from amongst you in silence down! the summer is coming, on soft winds borne, ye may press the grape, ye may bind the corn! for me i depart to a brighter shore, ye are marked by care, ye are mine no more, i go where the loved, who have left you, dwell, and the flowers are not death's--farewell, farewell!" hemans. { } summer is drawn naked, bearing an ear of corn, just arriving at its fulness, to denote the harvest yielded by its light and heat; with a scythe in her hand, to intimate that it is the season of harvest. a welcome to the summer's pleasant song, a welcome to the summer's golden hour, a welcome to the myriad joys that throng, with a deep loveliness, o'er tree and flower, the earth is glad with beauty, the sky smiles in calm grandeur over vale and hill, and the breeze murmurs forth a gentle sigh, and the fish leap from out the smiling rill. the town's pale denizens come forth to breathe. the free, fresh air, and lave their fevered brows; and beauty loves young fairy flowers to wreathe beneath some stately forest's antique boughs. oh! art hath nought like this, the very air breatheth of beauty, banishing despair." francis. at other times, she is represented surrounded by the flowers which blossom latest, mingled with the delicious fruits which are the offspring of the summer season. "come away! the sunny hours woo thee far to founts and bowers! o'er the very waters now, in their play, flowers are shedding beauty's glow-- come away! where the lily's tender gleam quivers on the glancing stream-- come away! all the air is filled with sound, soft, and sultry, and profound; murmurs through the shadowy grass lightly stray; faint winds whisper as they pass-- come away; where the bee's deep music swells from the trembling fox-glove bells-- come away! in the skies the sapphire blue now hath won its richest hue; in the woods the breath of song night and day floats with leafy scents along-- where the boughs with dewy gloom come away! darken each thick bed of bloom come away! in the deep heart of the rose now the crimson love-hue glows; now the glow-worm's lamp by night sheds a ray, { } dreamy, starry, freely bright-- come away! where the fairy cup-moss lies, with the wild-wood strawberries, come away! now each tree by summer crowned, sheds its own night twilight round; glancing there from sun to shade, bright wings play; here the deer its couch hath made-- come away! where the smooth leaves of the lime glisten in the honey time, come away--away! hemans. autumn appears clad in a robe red with the juice of the vintage, which he yields to gladden the heart of man: while a dog is placed at his feet to denote it as the season of the chase. "i saw old autumn in the misty morn, stand shadowless like silence, listening to silence, for no lonely bird would sing into his hollow ear from woods forlorn, nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn; shaking his tangled locks all dewy bright with spangled gossamer that fell by night, pearling his coronet of golden corn. where are the songs of summer? with the sun, opening the dusky eyelids of the south, till shade and silence waken up alone, and morning sings with a warm odorous mouth. where are the merry birds? away, away on panting wings through the inclement skies, lest owls should prey undazzled at noon-day, and tear with horny beak their lustrous eyes. where are the blooms of summer? in the west, blushing their last to the last sunny hours, when the mild eve by sudden night is prest like tearful proserpine, snatched from her flowers to a most gloomy breast. where is the pride of summer,--the green prime-- the many, many leaves all twinkling?--there on the moss'd elm; three on the naked lime trembling,--and one upon the old oak tree! where is the dryad's immortality? gone into mournful cypress and dark yew, or wearing the long, gloomy winter through in the smooth holly's green eternity. the squirrel gloats on his accomplished hoard, the ants have trimm'd their garners with ripe grain, and honey bees have stored the sweets of summer in their luscious cells; { } the swallows all have winged across the main; but here the autumn melancholy dwells, and sighs her tearful spells, amongst the sunless shadows of the plain. alone, alone, upon a mossy stone, she sits and reckons up the dead and gone, with the last leaves for a love-rosary, whilst all the withered world looks drearily, like a dim picture of the drowned past in the hushed mind's mysterious far away, doubtful what ghostly thing will steal the last into that distance, grey upon the grey. o go and sit with her, and be o'ershaded under the languid downfall of her hair; she wears a coronal of flowers faded, upon her forehead, and a face of care;-- there is enough of withered every where to make her bower,--and enough of gloom; there is enough of sadness to invite, if only for the rose that died--whose doom is beauty's,--she that with the living bloom of conscious cheeks, most beautifies the light; there is enough of sorrowing, and quite enough of bitter fruits the earth doth bear, enough of chilly droppings for her bowl, enough of fear and shadowy despair, to frame her cloudy prison for the soul." hood. winter, as the oldest season, is drawn with shrivelled limbs, and white and hoary locks, to represent the appearance of old age. "when first the fiery mantled sun his heavenly race began to run; round the earth, in ocean blue his children four the seasons flew;-- first, in the green apparel dancing, the young spring smiled with angel grace; rosy summer next advancing, rushed into her sire's embrace:-- her bright haired sire, who bade her keep for ever nearest to his smiles, on calpe's olive shaded steep, on india's citron covered isles: now remote and buxom brown, the queen of vintage bowed before his throne; a rich pomegranate gemmed her crown, a ripe sheaf bound her zone. but howling winter fled afar, to hills that prop the polar star, and loves on deer-borne car to ride with barren darkness by his side, round the shore where loud lofoden whirls to death the roaring whale, round the hall where runic oden howls his war song to the gale; { } save when a-down the ravaged globe he travels on his native storm, deflowering nature's grassy robe, and trampling on her faded form: till light's returning lord assume the shaft that drives him to his polar field, of power to pierce his raven plume, and chrystal covered shield. oh, sire of storms, whose savage ear the lapland drum delights to hear, when frenzy with her bloodshot eye implores thy dreadful deity, archangel! power of desolation! fast descending as thou art, say, hath mortal invocation spells to touch thy stony heart? then, sullen winter, hear my prayer, and gently rule the ruined year; nor chill the wanderer's bosom bare, nor freeze the wretch's falling tear. to shuddering want's unmantled bed, thy horror-breathing agues cease to lead, and gently on the orphan head of innocence descend. but chiefly spare, o king of clouds, the sailor on his airy shrouds; when wrecks and beacons strew the steep, and spectres walk along the deep. milder yet thy snowy breezes pour on yonder tented shores, where the rhine's broad billow freezes, or the dark brown danube roars. oh, winds of winter! list ye there to many a deep and dying groan; or start, ye demons of the midnight air, at shrieks and thunders louder than your own. alas! e'en your unhallowed breath, may spare the victim fallen low; but man will ask no truce to death, no bounds to human woe." campbell. * * * * * divinities of the sea. oceanus and thetis. oceanus, one of the most powerful deities of the sea, was, according to homer, the parent of all the gods, and on that account received frequent visits from the remainder of the deities. he is represented as an old man, with a long, flowing beard, and sitting upon the waves of the sea. he often holds a pike in his hand, whilst ships under sail appear at a distance, or a sea monster stands near him. { } oceanus presided over every part of the sea, and even the rivers were subjected to his power. the ancients were very reverential in their homage to oceanus, and worshipped with great solemnity a deity, to whose care they entrusted themselves when going on any voyage. he was the father of the oceanides to the number of three thousand. "three thousand graceful oceanides long-stepping, tread the earth, or far and wide dispersed, they haunt the glassy depth of lakes, a glorious sisterhood of goddess birth." hesiod. thetis, one of the sea deities, was daughter of nereus and doris and is often confounded with tethys, her grandmother. she was loved by neptune and jupiter; but when the gods were informed that her son would become greater than his father, they ceased their addresses, and peleus, the son of �acus, was permitted to solicit her hand. thetis refused him, but the lover had the artifice to catch her when asleep, and by binding her strongly, prevented her escaping from his grasp. when thetis found she could not elude the vigilance of peleus, she consented to marry him, though much against her inclination. their nuptials were celebrated on mount peleon with great pomp, at which all the deities attended. "proteus thus to virgin thetis said, 'fair goddess of the waves, consent to wed, a son you'll have, the terror of the field, to whom, in fame and power, his sire shall yield.' jove, who adored the nymph with boundless love, did, from his breast, the dangerous flame remove; he knew the fates, nor cared to raise up one, whose fame and greatness, should eclipse his own. on happy peleus he bestowed her charms, and blessed his grandson in the goddess' arms: --a silent creek thessalia's coast can show, two arms project, and shape it like a bow; 'twould make a bay, but the transparent tide does scarce the yellow, gravel bottom hide; a grove of fragrant myrtle near it grows, whose boughs, though thick, a beauteous grot disclose the well wrought fabric, to discerning eyes, rather by art than nature seem to rise. a bridled dolphin, oft fair thetis bore to this her loved retreat, her favourite shore: here peleus seized her slumbering where she lay, and urged his suit, with all that love could say: the nymph o'erpowered, to art for succour flies, and various shapes the eager youth surprize. { } a bird she seems, but plies her wings in vain, his hand the fleeting substance still detain: a branchy tree, high in the air she grew, about its bark, his nimble arms he threw: a tiger next she glares with flaming eyes, the frightened lover quits his hold and flies. the sea-gods he with sacred rites adores, then a libation on the ocean pours; while the fat entrails crackle in the fire, and sheets of smoke in sweet perfume aspire: till proteus, rising from his oozy bed, thus to the poor, desponding lover said, 'no more in anxious thoughts your mind employ, for yet you shall possess the dear, expected joy, you must once more the unwary nymph surprize, as in her cooly grot she slumbering lies: then bind her fast with unrelenting hands, and strain her tender limbs with knotted bands; still hold her under every distant shape, till tired, she tries no longer to escape? thus he then sunk beneath the glassy flood, and broken accents fluttered where he stood. bright sol had almost now his journey done, and down the steepy, western convex run; when the fair nereid left the briny wave, and, as she used, retreated to her cave, he scarce had bound her fast, when she arose, and into various shapes her body throws; she went to move her arms, then found them tied, then with a sigh 'some god assists,' she cried, and in her proper shape stood blushing by his side." dryden. thetis became mother of several children by peleus, but all these she destroyed by fire in attempting to see whether they were immortal. achilles would have shared the same fate, if peleus had not snatched him from her hand, as she was going to repeat the cruel operation. she afterwards rendered his body invulnerable by plunging him in the waters of the styx, excepting that part of the heel by which she held him. as thetis well knew the future fate of her son, she attempted to remove him from the trojan war, by concealing him in the court of lycomedes. this, however, was useless, as he went with the rest of the greeks. the mother, still anxious for his preservation, prevailed upon vulcan to make him a suit of armour; but after it was done, she refused to fulfil the promise she had made to the god. when achilles was killed by paris, thetis issued out of the sea with the nereids to mourn his death, and after she had collected his ashes in a golden urn, raised a monument to his memory, and instituted festivals in his honour. * * * * * { } triton, proteus, portumnus, glaucus, �olus, the syrens, charybdis and scylla, circe and the harpies. triton was the son of neptune and amphitrite, and was reckoned of much importance among the sea deities, being able to raise or to calm storms at his pleasure. he is generally represented with a shell in his hand. "old triton blowing his sea horn." wordsworth. his body above the waist, is that of a man, but below, a dolphin's, while by some he is shown with the fore feet of a horse. he usually precedes the chariot of the god of the sea, sounding his shell, and is resembled, in this, by his sons the tritons. [illustration] proteus, son of oceanus and thetis, was guardian of the subjects of neptune, and had the power of looking into the future, from that god, because he had tended for him the monsters of the sea. "the shepherd of the seas, a prophet, and a god, high o'er the main, in watery pomp he rides, his azure car and finny coursers guides. with sure foresight, and with unerring doom he sees what is, and was, and is to come." virgil. from his knowledge of futurity, mankind are said to have received the greatest benefits. ----------------"blue proteus dwells, great neptune's prophet, who the ocean quells; he in a glittering chariot courses o'er the foaming waves, him all the nymphs adore, old nereus too, because he all things knows, the past, the present, and the future shows; { } so neptune pleased who proteus thus inspired, and with such wages to his service hired, gave him the rule of all his briny flocks, that feed among a thousand ragged rocks." the changes which this deity was able to make in his appearance, caused the name of proteus to be synonimous with change. thus "the proteus lover woos his playful bride, to win the fair he tries a thousand forms, basks on the sands, or gambols in the storms. a dolphin now, his scaly sides he laves; and bears the sportive damsel on the waves; she strikes the cymbals as he moves along, and wondering ocean listens to the song. and now a spotted pard the lover stalks, plays round her steps, and guards her favoured walks; as with white teeth he prints her hand, caressed, and lays his velvet paw upon her breast, o'er his round face her snowy fingers strain the silken knots and fit the ribbon-rein. and now a swan he spreads his plumy sails, and proudly glides before the fanning gales; pleased on the flowery brink with graceful hand she waves her floating lover to the land; bright shines his sinuous neck with crimson beak, he prints fond kisses on her glowing cheek, spreads his broad wings, elates his ebon crest, and clasps the beauty to his downy breast." darwin. he usually resided on the carpathian sea, and like the rest of the sea gods, reposed upon the shore, where those resorted who wished to consult him to obtain any revelation; but it was necessary to secure him, lest by taking some unnatural shape, he should elude their vigilance. [illustration] portumnus, the guardian of doors, was at first known as { } melicerta, and was the son of athamas and ino. he was saved by his mother from the fury of his father, athamas, who became inflamed by such a sudden fury, that he took ino for a lioness, and her two children for whelps. in this fit of madness, he dashed one of them against a wall; ino fled with melicerta in her arms, and threw herself into the sea from a high rock, and was changed into a sea deity, by neptune, who had compassion on her misfortunes. it is supposed by many, that the isthmian games were in honour of portumnus. glaucus was a fisher of boeotia, and remarking, on one occasion, that the fish which he threw on the grass, seemed to receive fresh vigour from touching the ground, he attributed it to the grass, and tasting it, was seized with a sudden desire to live in the sea. upon this, he leapt into the water, and was made a sea deity by oceanus, at the request of the marine gods. [illustration] �olus, god of the winds, reigned in the vulcanean islands, and was under the power of neptune, who allowed him to give liberty to the winds, or to recall them into their caverns at his pleasure. "oh many a voice is thine thou wind! full many a voice is thine, from every scene thy wing o'ersweeps thou bear'st a sound and sign; a minstrel wild and strong thou art, with a mastery all thine own, and the spirit is thy harp, o wind! that gives the answering tone. "thou hast been across red fields of war, where shivered helmets lie, and thou bringest thence the thrilling note of a clarion in the sky: { } a rustling of proud banner folds, a peal of stormy drums,-- all these are in thy music met, as when a leader comes. "thou hast been o'er solitary seas, and from their wastes brought back each noise of waters that awoke in the mystery of thy track; the chime of low, soft southern waves on some green palmy shore, the hollow roll of distant surge, the gathered billows roar. "thou art come from forests dark and deep, thou mighty, rushing wind! and thou bearest all their unisons in one, full swell combined; the restless pines, the moaning stream, all hidden things and free, of the dim, old sounding wilderness, have lent their soul to thee. "thou art come from cities lighted up for the conqueror passing by, thou art wafting from their streets, a sound of haughty revelry: the rolling of triumphant wheels, the harpings in the hall, the far off shout of multitudes, are in thy rise and fall. "thou art come from kingly tombs and shrines, from ancient minsters vast, through the dark aisles of a thousand years thy lonely wing hath passed; thou hast caught the anthem's billowy swell, the stately dirge's tone; for a chief, with sword and shield, and helm, to his place of slumber's gone. "thou art come from long forsaken homes, wherein our young days flew, thou hast found sweet voices lingering there, the loved, the kind, the true! thou callest back those melodies, though now all changed and fled, be still, be still, and haunt us not with music from the dead! "are all these notes in thee, wild wind? these many notes in thee? far in our own unfathomed souls their fount must surely be; yes! buried, but unsleeping, there; thought watches, memory lies, from whose deep urn the tones are poured through all earth's harmonies." hemans. { } the principal winds are boreas, auster, eurus and zephyrus. boreas, god of the north, carried away orithya, who refused to receive his addresses. by her he had zetes and calais, cleopatra and cheone. he once changed himself into a horse, to unite himself with the mare of dardanus, by which he had a female progeny of twelve, so swift, that they ran or rather flew over the sea without wetting a foot. the athenians dedicated altars to him when xerxes invaded europe. auster, god of the south wind, appeared generally as an old man with grey hair, a gloomy countenance, a head covered with clouds, a sable vesture and dusky wings. he is the dispenser of rain and of all heavy showers. eurus, god of the east, is represented as a young man, flying with great impetuosity, and often appearing in a playful and wanton humour. zephyrus, god of the west, the warmest of all the winds, married flora, and was said to produce flowers and fruits, by the sweetness of his breath. companion of love, he has the figure of a youth, and the wings of a butterfly. songs of the winds. "we are free! we are free! in our home the skies, when we calmly sleep, or in tumult rise, when we smile on the vision-like realms below, or vengefully utter the chords of woe. when we dance in the sunbeams, or laughingly play with the spring clouds that fly from our kisses away, when we grapple and fight with the bellowing foam, or slumber and sleep in our shadowless home." north wind. "i've blastingly wandered where nature doth pant; and gloomily pondered o'er sadness and want. an old man was sighing o'er angel lips gone, his cherub was dying, and he was alone. on his grey locks i clotted an ice-crown cold,-- his sinews i knotted; his tale is told." south wind. "i met two young lovers, and listed their vows, where the woodbine covers the old oak boughs. enhancing their pleasures i fluttered around. and joined with glad measures their soft sighs' sound. they blessed me for bringing sweet perfumes near, they blessed me for singing a cadence so dear." { } east wind. "i've wafted through bowers where angels might muse, and kiss their bright flowers of loveliest hues. and maidens were singing of beauty and love, their symphonies ringing, resounded above. i parted the tresses, from fairy-like brows, where the lily impresses its earliest vows." west wind. "i've rolled o'er the regions of earth and sea, and laughed at the legions that trembled at me. i've madly gambolled with clouds and waves; and closed, as i rambled, my victim's grave. i've roared and i've revelled, with fiend-like glee, earth's palaces levelled, wrecks dashed o'er the sea." chorus. "we are free, we are free, in our realms of air, we list to no sorrow, we own no care; we hold our carousals aloft with the stars, where they glitter along in their golden cars, we frolic and bound with the playful wave, which the prison-like confines of earth doth lave; we are glad, we are glad, and in breeze or in blast, we will sport round the world as long as 'twill last." jennings. alcyone, the daughter of �olus, married ceyx, who was drowned as he was going to claros to consult an oracle. alcyone was apprized in a dream of her husband's fate, and finding on the morrow his body upon the shore, she threw herself into the sea. the gods, touched by her fidelity, changed her and her husband into the birds of the same name, who keep the waters calm and serene while they build and sit on their nests in the surface of the sea. "o, poor alcyone! what were thy feelings on the stormy strand, when thou saw'st ceyx borne a corse to land? o, i could weep with thee, and sit whole tides upon the pebbly shore, and listen to the waves lamenting roar, o, poor alcyone! but now thy stormy passion past, thou upon the wave at last, buildest, from all tempest free, thou and ceyx, side by side, charming the distempered tide, o, dear alcyone!" the syrens were three in number, and were companions of proserpine, at the time of her being carried off; they prayed for wings from the gods, to unite their efforts with those of ceres. { } in despair at the uselessness of their search, they retired to the sea shore, where, in the midst of desolate rocks, they sang songs of the most enchanting and attractive nature, while those who were drawn by their beauty to listen to them, perished on the spot. [illustration] "who, as they sung, would take the prisoned soul, and lap it in elysium: scylla wept and chid her barking waves into attention, and fell charybdis murmured soft applause." ovid. charybdis was an avaricious woman, who, stealing from hercules, was slain by him, and became one of the divinities of the sea. scylla, daughter of hecate and of phorcys, was a beautiful nymph, greatly beloved by glaucus, also one of the deities of the sea. scylla scorned his addresses, and the god, to render her propitious, sought the aid of circe, who no sooner saw him than she became enamoured, and, instead of assisting him, tried to win his love to herself tho' in vain. to punish her rival, circe poured the juice of poisonous herbs into the waters of the fountain where scylla bathed, and no sooner had the nymph entered, than her body, below the { } waist, was changed into frightful monsters, like dogs, which never ceased barking, while the remainder of her form assumed an equally hideous appearance, being supported by twelve feet, with six different heads, each bearing three rows of teeth. this sudden metamorphose so alarmed her, that she threw herself into that part of the sea which separates the coast of italy and sicily, where she was changed into rocks which continue to bear her name, and which were deemed as dangerous to sailors, as the whirlpool of charybdis, on the coast of sicily, and from which has arisen the proverb, "by avoiding charybdis we fall upon scylla!" "upon the beech a winding bay there lies, sheltered from seas, and shaded from the skies; this station scylla chose; a soft retreat from chilling winds and raging cancer's heat. the vengeful sorceress visits this recess, her charm infuses, and infects the place. soon as the nymph wades in, her nether parts turn into dogs, then at herself she starts. a ghastly horror in her eyes appears but yet she knows not what it is she fears, in vain she offers from herself to run, and drag's about her what she strives to shun. "oppressed with grief the pitying god appears, and swells the rising surges with his tears; from the detested sorceress he flies, her art reviles, and her address denies, whilst happless scylla, changed to rocks, decrees destruction to those barks that beat the seas." garth. the harpies were monsters with the faces of old women, the wings and body of a vulture, the ears of a bear, having claws on their feet and hands, and spreading famine wherever they made their hideous appearance. [illustration] * * * * * { } divinities of the infernal regions. the parcæ or fates, were three powerful goddesses, who presided over the birth and life of mankind. clotho, the youngest of the sisters, governed the moment of birth, and held a distaff in her hand: lacheses spun out all the events and actions in the time; and atropos, the eldest, cut the thread of humanity with her scissors. ------"the fates, in vengeance pitiless; who at the birth of men dispense the lot of good and evil. they of men and gods the crimes pursue, nor ever pause from wrath tremendous, till destructive on the head of him that sins the retribution falls." hesiod. their powers were great and extensive, and they are represented by some as sitting at the foot of the throne of the king of hell; while others make them appear on radiant seats amidst the celestial spheres, clothed in robes spangled with stars, and wearing crowns on their heads. their dresses are differently described by some authors. clotho has on a variegated robe, and on her head a crown of seven stars. she holds a distaff in her hand, reaching from heaven to earth. the garment which lacheses wore was variegated with a great number of stars, and near her a variety of spindles. atropos was clothed in black; she held scissors in her hand, with clues of threads of various sizes, according to the length or shortness of the lives whose destinies they were supposed to contain. "the three parcæ, fates fair offspring born, the world's great spindle as its axle turn; round which eight spheres in beauteous order run, and as they turn, revolving time is spun, whose motions all things upon earth ordain, whence revolutions date their fickle reign. these robed in white, at equal distance throned, sit o'er the spheres, and twirl the spindle round, on each of which a syren loudly sings, as from the wheel the fatal thread she flings; the parcæ answer, in the choir agree and all those voices make one harmony." the worship of the parcæ was well established in some parts of greece, and though mankind knew they were inexorable, and that { } it was impossible to mitigate their decrees, yet they evinced a respect for their divinity, by raising statues to them. [illustration] * * * * * night. nox, one of the most ancient deities among the heathens, was the daughter of chaos. from her union with her brother erebus, she gave birth to day and light: she is called by some of the poets, the mother of all things, of gods no less than of men, and was worshipped with great solemnity by the ancients, who erected to her a famous statue in diana's temple at ephesus. the cock was offered to her, as the bird which proclaims the coming of the day. she is drawn mounted on a chariot, and covered with a veil bespangled with stars, and the constellations preceded her as her messengers. sometimes she is seen holding two children under her arms, one of which is dark like night, and the other light like day. "night, when like perfumes that have slept all day within the wild flower's heart, steal out the thoughts the soul has kept in silence and apart: and voices we have pined to hear, through many a long and lonely day, come back upon the dreaming ear, from grave lands far away, and gleams look forth of spirit eyes like stars along the darkening skies!" hervey. { } she has been described by some of the modern writers, as a woman clothed in mourning, crowned with poppies, and drawn in a chariot by owls and bats. song of night. "i come to thee, o earth! with all my gifts; for every flower, sweet dew in bell, and urn, and chalice, to renew the glory of its birth. i come with every star; making thy streams, that on their noon-day track, give but the moss, the reed, the lily back, mirrors of world's afar. i come with peace; i shed sleep through the wood walks, o'er the honey bee, the lark's triumphant voice, the fawn's young glee, the hyacinth's meek head. on my own heart i lay the weary babe; and sealing with a breath its eyes of love, send fairy dreams, beneath the shadowing lids to play. i come with mightier things! who calls me silent? i have many tones-- the dark skies thrill with low mysterious moans, borne on my sweeping wings. i waft them not alone from the deep organ of the forest shades, or buried streams, unheard amidst their glades till the bright day is done. but in the human breast, a thousand still, small voices i awake, strong in their sweetness, from the soul to shake the mantle of its rest. i bring them from the past, from true hearts broken, gentle spirits torn, from crushed affections, which, though long o'erborne, make their tones heard at last. i bring them from the tomb! o'er the sad couch of late repentant love they pass--though low as murmurs of a dove-- like trumpets through the gloom. i come with all my train; who calls me lonely? hosts around me tread, the intensely bright, the beautiful, the dead, phantoms of heart and brain. looks from departed eyes-- these are my lightnings! fill'd with anguish vain, or tenderness too precious to sustain, they smite with agonies. { } i that with soft control, shut the dim violet, hush the woodland song, i am the avenging one! the arm'd, the strong, the searcher of the soul. i that shower dewy light through slumbering leaves, bring storms!--the tempest birth of memory, thought, remorse:--be holy, earth! i am the solemn night!" hemans. * * * * * death. poets have given to death a heart of iron, bowels of steel, black wings, and a net with which she envelopes her victims. statuaries carve her under the form of a large skeleton, armed with a scythe, and bearing wings. sparta and elis honoured her, but phoenicia and spain paid to her more particularly the homage of a divinity. she inhabits the infernal regions; and though, in more modern times, death has been always addressed as a divinity of the masculine gender. the lacedæmonians indeed, regarded her, not as an existing, but as an imaginary being. "mysterious power! whose dark and gloomy sway extends o'er all creation, what art thou? they call thee 'king of terrors!' drear dismay followeth thy footsteps, and around thy brow hovers a thick impenetrable cloud, which, to some hearts, is hope's sad funeral shroud. beside the infant on its cradle bed, the mother watches thro' the hour of night; hope hath not quite her lonely spirit fled, tho' o'er her first-born babe hath passed the blight of fell disease: wait, wait one moment more, thy hand has touched it, death, and hope is o'er. thou turn'st the hall of revelry to gloom, the wedding garment to a garb of woe; thou com'st in silence to the banquet room, ceased is the noisy mirth, the red wine's flow, and men look pale at thee, and gasp for breath, thou doest this, thou doest more, oh! death thou twin'st the cypress wreath round victory's brow, the brave have won the fight, but, fighting, fell; it was thine arm that laid the victor low, and toll'd amid the triumph, a lone knell for his departure: death--thy gloomy power can throw a sadness o'er the happiest hour. thou comest to the monarch in his hour of pomp, and pride, and royalty's array; and the next victim of thy reckless power may be the beggar in his hut of clay: thy hand can lay the tattered vagrant down beside the head that wore the kingly crown. { } childhood is thine, its unexpanded bloom, shrinks to decay beneath thy chilling breath; gay youth, thou witherest, with thy touch of doom, stern manhood shrinks beneath thy grasp, oh, death, and fragile age by worldly cares opprest, sinks, softly sinks, into those arms for rest. and then methought death's hollow voice replied, 'rash mortal--would'st thou tempt the dangerous gloom, launch thy frail bark upon the awful tide that leaves the lonely islands of the tomb; darest thou, in thy vain impotence of pride demand the knowledge to frail man denied? call'st thou me reckless, when i place my hand upon the earliest buddings of the spring? had i allowed those sweet buds to expand, what would the skies of gloomy autumn bring? darkness, dismay: those sweet buds, leaf by leaf, had sadly faded, full of tears and grief. what though i slew the victor in his pride, 'tis meet the brave on battle field should die, his name is echoed thro' the nations wide, reared is the column where his ashes lie; he sought for fame, he won it, bravely won; he died for fame, when his great task was done. what tho' i turn the banquet room to grief, the wedding garment to a garb of woe, do i not bring to wounded hearts relief? do i not ease the wretched of his woe? then taunt me not with wanton cruelty, man knows 'tis written 'thou must surely die!' but at what hour, no mortal power may know, whether at morn, at dewy eve, or night, when sinks the heart beneath its weight of woe, or throb the pulses with supreme delight, vain mortal! cease god's sovereign will to scan, be thou prepared to meet the son of man!'" clarke. * * * * * sleep. sleep, the accustomed companion of night, inhabits the lower regions, though ovid has placed his palace in the cold scythia. ----------------"in his dark abode deep in a cavern dwells the drowsy god, whose gloomy mansion nor the rising sun nor setting, visits, nor the lightsome noon; but lazy vapours round the region fly, perpetual twilight and a doubtful sky; no crowing cock does there his wings display nor with his horny bill provoke the day; nor watchful dogs, nor the more wakeful geese, disturb, with nightly noise, the sacred peace: { } nor beast of nature nor the laws, are nigh, nor trees with tempests rocked, nor human cry, but safe repose, without an air of breath, dwells here, and a dumb quiet next to death, an arm of lethe with a gentle flow, arising upward from the rock below, the palace moats, and o'er the pebbles creeps, and with soft murmurs calls the coming sleeps. around its entry nodding poppies grew, and all cool simples that sweet rest bestow; night from the plants their sleepy virtue drains, and passing, sheds it on the silent plains: no door there was th' unguarded house to keep, on creaking hinges turned to break his sleep. but in the gloomy court was raised a bed, stuffed with black plumes, and in an ebon stead; black was the covering too where lay the god, and slept supine, his limbs displayed abroad." ovid. the principal minister of sleep is morpheus, son of somnus, who was the presider over sleep; the former was the parent of dreams, of whom, by a beautiful idea, imagination was said to be the mother. the palace of somnus was a dark cave, where the god lies asleep on a bed of feathers. the dreams stand by him, and morpheus, as his principal minister, watches, to prevent any noise from awaking him. "oh lightly, lightly tread, a holy thing is sleep; on the worn spirit shed, and eyes that wake to weep. a holy thing from heaven, a gracious, dewy cloud, a covering mantle given, the weary to enshroud! oh! lightly, lightly tread; revere the pale, still brow, the meekly drooping head, the long hair's willowy flow. ye know not what ye do, that call the slumberers back, from the world unseen by you unto life's dim faded track. her soul is far away, in her childhood's land, perchance, where her young sisters play, where shines her mother's glance. some old sweet native sound her spirit haply weaves; a harmony profound, of woods with all their leaves. { } a murmur of the sea, a laughing tone of streams; long may her sojourn be in the music land of dreams. each voice of love is there, each gleam of beauty fled, each lost one still more fair-- oh! lightly, lightly tread!" hemans. by the lacedæmonians, the image of somnus was always placed near that of death on account of their apparent resemblance. "how wonderful is death, death and his brother sleep! one, pale as yonder waning moon, with lips of lurid blue; the other rosy as the morn when throned in ocean's wave, it blushes o'er the world: yet both so passing wonderful!" shelley. ---------------"the one glides gentle o'er the space of earth, and broad expanse of ocean waves, placid to man. the other has a heart of iron; yea, the heart within his breast is brass, unpitying; whom of men he grasps stern he retains." hesiod * * * * * manes. the manes was a name applied generally to the soul after it has separated from the body, and were among the infernal deities being supposed to preside over the grave, burial places, and monuments of the dead. they were worshipped with great great solemnity, particularly by the romans, and were always invoked by the augurs before proceeding about their sacerdotal offices. it was believed that these spirits quitted, during the hours of night, their melancholy dwelling-place, and "revisited the glimpses of the moon," to exercise their benevolence or their fury. they were allowed also to leave their tombs three times during the course of the year while their fêtes, which were the most pompous in rome, were proceeding in their honour. * * * * * { } nemesis. nemesis, goddess of justice and of vengeance, was the daughter of necessity. this divinity had wings, a fillet of serpents round her brow, and a sword to strike the unhappy criminals who merited its blow;--though always ready to punish the impious, she was equally liberal in rewarding the good and the virtuous. the people of smyrna were the first who made her statue with wings, to show with what celerity she is prepared to punish the crimes of the wicked. [illustration] the romans were particularly attentive in their adoration of this deity, whom they solemnly invoked, and to whom they offered sacrifices before declaring war, to evince to the world that they were commenced upon equitable grounds. the athenians instituted fêtes called nemesia, in memory of deceased persons, as the goddess was supposed to defend the relics and the memory of the dead from insult. * * * * * domestic divinities. the lares and the penates. the lares were the household divinities who presided over the interests of private families. their worship is supposed to have { } arisen from the ancient custom among the romans and other nations, of burying their dead within their houses, and the belief that the spirits of the departed continually hovered over their former dwellings, for the protection of the inhabitants. their statues were placed in a niche behind the doors of the houses, or around the hearths; while at their feet was placed a dog barking, to intimate the watchfulness they exhibited. their festivals were observed at rome in the month of may, when their statues were crowned with garlands of flowers, and fruit offerings presented to them. the penates also closely resembled the lares, and presided over houses and the domestic affairs of families. it was at the option of every master of a family to choose his penates, and therefore jupiter and some of the superior gods, are often invoked as domestic divinities. they were originally the manes of the dead, but when mankind had been taught by superstition to pay deep reverence to the statues or images of their deceased friends, that reverence was soon changed for a more regular worship, and they were admitted by their votaries to share immortality and power, with the remainder or the gods. the statues of the penates were generally formed of wax, silver, ivory, or earthenware, according to the poverty or riches of the worshipper. when offerings were made to them, their shrines were crowned with garlands, and besides one day in every month set apart for their homage, their festivals were celebrated during the saturnalia. hymn to the penates. "yet one song more! one high and solemn strain, ere, phoebus! on thy temples ruined wall i hang the silent harp: one song more! penates! hear me! for to you i hymn the votive lay. venerable powers! hearken your hymn of praise. though from your rites estranged, and exiled from your altars long, i have not ceased to love you, household gods! o ye whom youth has 'wildered on your way, or vice with fair mask'd foulness, or the lure of fame that calls ye to her crowded path with folly's rattle, to your household gods return: for not in vice's gay abodes, { } not in the unquiet, unsafe halls of fame doth happiness abide!" -----------------"to your household gods return, for by their altars, virtue dwells, and happiness with her; hearken your hymn of praise, penates! to your shrines i come for rest,-- there only to be found. household deities, there only shall be happiness on earth when man shall feel your sacred power, and love your tranquil joys; then shall the city stand a huge, void sepulchre, and rising fair amid the ruins of the palace pile, the olive grow, there shall the tree of peace strike its roots deep, and flourish." southey. * * * * * genius. the genius was a kind of spirit which, as the ancients supposed, presided over the actions of mankind, gave them their private councils, and carefully watched over their most secret intentions. some of the ancient philosophers maintained, that every man had two of these, the one bad, the other good. they had the power of changing themselves into whatever form they pleased, and of assuming whatever shapes were most subservient to their intentions. at the moment of death, they delivered up to judgment the person with whose care they had been entrusted; and according to the evidence he delivered, sentence was passed upon the body. the genius of socrates is famous in history. that great philosopher asserted that the genius informed him when any of his friends were going to engage in some unfortunate enterprise, and stopped him from the commission of all crimes and impiety. the genii, though at first reckoned only as the subordinate ministers of the superior deities, received divine honour for a length of time, and we find altars and statues erected to them. * * * * * principal divinities of the second order. the graces. the graces, who were daughters of jupiter and of venus, presided over the enjoyments of the mind, as well as over those of the heart. thus the orator received from them the force and brilliancy of his ideas; the artist, his perception of the beautiful; the wise man, that spirit of amiability which appreciates the charms of { } virtue; the rich man, a love of beneficence and desire of giving; the poor gaiety and patience; the maiden, candour and modesty; and the warrior, bravery united with moderation. the worship of the graces appeals to have had birth in samothracia; then elis, perinthia, delphi, and rome adopted the three sisters. by some it is asserted, that the beautiful trio remained unwedded; homer, however, has given sleep to the youngest as a husband. during the many sacrifices which were instituted in the various cities, offerings to them were mingled with those to bacchus, mercury, the muses, and apollo. the spartan heroes before going to combat, sacrificed to love and to the graces. they were invoked at festivals, and three cups were drunk by those who feasted in honour of euphrosyne, aglaia, and thalia. of them, the greatest statuaries have erected the most groups, and socrates himself, before he joined the philosophy in which he ultimately became so eminent, had taken the chisel in his hand, and represented them of slight figure, pure countenance, smiling faces, small mouths, hair negligently tied over their head, and with their hands placed in a graceful attitude. they sometimes bear with them a branch of myrtle and of roses, the flowers peculiarly consecrated to them. [illustration] * * * * * { } comus, momus. [illustration] comus, god of the pleasures of the table and of good living, was the presider over feasts and festivals, and was honoured most by the dissipated youth who, to do him reverence, wandered about at night in masks, dancing to the sound of musical instruments, and knocking at the doors of dwelling places. during his festivals, men and women exchanged each others dresses. he is represented as a young and drunken man, with a garland of flowers upon his head, his face lit up by the deity of wine, and with a flambeau in his hand which appears falling. song of comus. "welcome joy, and feast, midnight shout and revelry, tipsy dance and jollity. braid your locks with rosy twine, dropping odours, dropping wine, rigour now is gone to bed, and advice with scrupulous head: strict age and sour severity, with their grave saws, in slumber lie. we, that are of purer fire, imitate the starry quire, who, in their nightly watchful spheres, lead in swift round the months and years. * * * * * * what hath night to do with sleep? night hath better sweets to prove; venus now wakes, and wakens love. { } come, let us our rites begin; 'tis only day-light that makes sin, which these dim shades will ne'er report. come, knot hands, and beat the ground in a light fantastic round." milton. momus, his companion, is the god of joy and pleasantry, and was the buffoon and satirist of olympus. he wears as head dress, a cap adorned with small bells, a mask in one hand, and on the other a bauble, the symbol of folly. he was constantly engaged in mocking the gods, and whatever they did was freely turned into ridicule. he laughed at minerva, who had made a house, because she had not formed it moveable, that the annoyance of a bad neighbourhood might be avoided. he sneered at neptune's bull, because the eyes were not placed near enough to the horn, to render his blows surer. he irritated vulcan, by observing that if he wished to make man perfect, he should have placed a window at his heart; and when he found the beauty of venus was too perfect to allow of any truth to be mixed with his bitterness, he declared that the noise made by the goddess in walking was far too loud to be agreeable, and detracted from her beauty. at last these illiberal reflections were the cause of his being turned out of olympus. momus has been sung many times by the choice spirits whom he inspired, as well as by the dissipated youth of the city, and occupies in poetry, a rank more elevated than that of comus. he was greatly honoured during the more dissipated times of rome, and it was the custom to pour libations to him, before commencing a nocturnal revel. * * * * * hymen. this child of venus and bacchus presided over marriages, and has the appearance of a beautiful youth, holding a torch in his hand, and in the other a purple garment, with his head ornamented by a crown of roses. "till hymen brought his love-delighted hour. there dwelt no joy in eden's rosy bower! in vain the viewless seraph lingering there, at starry midnight charmed the silent air; in vain the wild bird carolled on the steep to hail the sun, slow wheeling from the deep; { } in vain, to soothe the solitary shade, aerial notes in mingling pleasure played; the summer wind that shook the spangled trees, the whispering wave, the murmuring of the breeze; still slowly passed the melancholy day, and still the stranger wist not where to stray. the world was sad; the garden was a wild! and man, the hermit, sighed,--till woman smiled!" campbell. according to the more received opinions of others, hymenæus was a young athenian of extraordinary beauty, but of low origin. becoming enamoured of one of the richest and noblest of his countrywomen, he worshipped her at a distance, and followed her, though respectfully, wherever she went: and, on one occasion, joined the nations of athens in a religious procession, disguising his sex by women's clothes. when they reached eleusis, a great part of the procession were seized by a band of pirates, who suddenly appeared amongst them: hymenæus shared the captivity of his mistress, and encouraging the captives, they slew their ravishers while they slept. immediately after this, hymenæus repaired to athens, and promised to deliver them if he were allowed to marry the one he might choose from amongst them. the athenians consented; and the lover received so much happiness in the marriage state, that festivals were instituted in his honour, and he was solemnly invoked at their nuptials. "hail, wedded love, mysterious law, true source of human offspring, sole propriety, in paradise of all things common else! by thee adulterous lust was driven from men among the bestial herds to range; by thee founded in reason, loyal, just, and pure, relations dear, and all the charities of father, son, and brother, first were known, far be it that i should write thee sin or blame, or think thee unbefitting holiest place; perpetual fountain of domestic sweets, whose bed is undefiled, and chaste pronounced, present, or past, as saints and patriarchs used. here love his golden shafts employs, here lights his constant lamp, and waves his purple wings, reigns here and revels, not in the bought smile of harlots, loveless, joyless, unendeared, casual fruition; nor in court amours, mixed dance or wanton mask, or midnight ball, or serenade, which the starved lover sings to his proud fair, best quitted with disdain." milton { } it was supposed that he always attended at nuptials; if not, matrimonial connections were fatal, and ended unhappily, and therefore people ran about calling aloud, hymen! hymen! "god of the torch, whose soul-illuming flame beams brightest radiance o'er the human heart, of many a woe the cure, of many a joy the source. friend to each better feeling of the soul, i sing to thee, for many a joy is thine, and many a virtue comes to join thy happy train. parent of every bliss, the busy hand of fancy, oft will paint in brightest hues how calm, how clear thy torch illumes the wintry hour. we'll paint the well-trimmed fire, the frugal meal, prepared with good solicitude to please, the ruddy children round, climbing the father's knee. and oft will fancy rise above the lot of honest poverty, and dream how man nor rich, nor poor, enjoys his best and happiest state. when toil no longer irksome, and restrained by hard necessity, but comes to please, to vary the still hour of tranquil happiness, lured by the splendour of thy sacred torch, the beacon light of bliss, young love draws near, and leads his willing slaves to wear thy flowery chain." southey. "hymen, late, his love-knots selling, called at many a maiden's dwelling; none could doubt, who saw, or knew them, hymen's call was welcome to them. 'who'll buy my love-knots? who'll buy my love knots?' soon as that sweet cry resounded, how his baskets were surrounded! maids, who now first dreamt of trying those gay knots of hymen's tying; dames, who long had sat to watch him passing by, but ne'er could catch him, 'who'll buy my love-knots? who'll buy my love-knots?' all at that sweet cry assembled; some laughed, some blushed, and others trembled. { } 'here are knots,' said hymen, taking some loose flowers of love's own making; 'here are good ones, you may trust 'em,' (these, of course, found ready custom,) 'come buy my love-knots, come buy my love-knots! some are labelled-knots to tie men, love, the maker--bought of hymen.' scarce their bargains were completed, when the nymphs all cried, 'we're cheated; 'see these flowers, they're drooping sadly, this gold-knot, too, ties but badly'-- 'who'll buy my love-knots, who'll buy my love-knots!' even this tie, with love's name round it, all a sham, he never bound it! love, who saw the whole proceeding, would have laughed, but for good breeding; while old hymen, who was used to, cries like that these dames gave loose to, 'take back our love-knots, take back our love-knots!' coolly said, 'there's no returning wares on hymen's hands--good morning!'" moore. * * * * * plutus --------------"all bountiful, who roams earth, and the expanded surface of the sea; and him that meets him on his way, whose hands he grasps, him gifts he with abundant gold, and large felicity." hesiod. plutus is the god of riches, and as the minister of the deity of the dead, inhabits the court of pluto, thereby indicating that the precious metals are in the bowels of the earth. he was brought up by the goddess of peace, and the greeks spoke of him as a fickle divinity, because represented as blind, he spreads by chance in his rapid course, the gold, silver, and precious stones, which escape from a box he holds in his hands; as lame, because he came slow and gradually; and with wings, to intimate that he flew away with greater velocity than he approached mankind. fortuna was the goddess of fortune, and from her hands were derived riches and poverty, pleasures and misfortunes, blessings and pains. governed by destiny, she guides by occasion; and before her marches necessity, the inflexible goddess. { } in boeotia she had a statue, represented as holding plutus in her arms, to intimate that fortune is the source whence wealth and honours flow. she is blind-folded, and her hand rests on a wheel, to intimate her inconstancy. [illustration] * * * * * harpocrates. harpocrates, the son of isis and osiris, is the god of silence. he is represented, in his statues as young, but with a countenance calm and severe, and on his brow a mitre, divided into two equal portions. his finger is placed upon his lip, to intimate the silence he maintains, and hence, all modern works of art adopt the same sign, when they wish to represent the quality over which harpocrates is supposed to preside. the romans placed his statue at the entrance of their temples, to intimate that the mysteries of religion should never be revealed to the people. "there is a lake that to the north of memphis, stretches grandly forth, upon whose silent shore the dead have a proud city of their own, with shrines and pyramids o'erspread-- where many an ancient, kingly head slumbers, immortalized in stone; and where, through marble grots beneath, the lifeless, ranged like sacred things, nor wanting aught of life, but breath, lie in their painted loveliness, { } and in each new successive race, that visit their dim haunts below, look with the same unwithering face, they wore three thousand years ago. there silence, thoughtful god, who loves the neighbourhood of death, in groves of asphodel lies hid, and weaves his hushing spell among the leaves-- nor ever noise disturbs the air, save the low, humming, mournful sound of priests, within their shrines at prayer, for the fresh dead, entombed around." moore. * * * * * themis, astr�a. themis, daughter of heaven and of earth, was the goddess of justice, she wears a bandage over her eyes, and holds in her hands a sword, scales, and the mirror of truth. her temple is always open. [illustration] astræa, with law and peace, are her children, the former of whom was worshipped as justice on the earth during the golden age; but the wickedness of mankind drove her from the world, during the succeeding periods of brass and iron, and she was placed among the constellations of the zodiac, under the name of virgo. she is represented as a maiden, with a stern but majestic countenance, holding a pair of scales in one hand, and a sword in the other. * * * * * { } demi-gods. the demi-gods are those, who, sprung from the union of a mortal with a divinity, have taken their place among the immortals; and "fabulous history" is the name given to the recital of their deeds. castor and pollux. from the love of jupiter for leda, wife of tyndarus, king of sparta, sprang these twin-brothers. under the form of a swan, pursued by venus: in the shape of an eagle, the god sought refuge in leda's arms, who in due time produced two eggs, from one of which came pollux and helena, and from the other, castor and clytemnestra. [illustration] scarcely had pollux emerged from childhood, when, being on an expedition with the argonauts, they stopped in the domains of amycus, (famous for his skill in the management of the cestus,) who challenged all strangers seeking his dominions to a trial of strength. pollux accepted his challenge, and surpassed him in skill, on which amycus attempting to conquer by fraud, pollux slew him on the spot; and became the patron of athletic exercises. castor was skilful in the art of guiding chariots, and subduing the most fiery coursers. these brothers fought theseus for outraging their sister helena; they destroyed the pirates who infested { } hellespont and the neighbouring seas, and from this have always been considered as gods favourable to sailors. during the argonautic expedition, in which they had accompanied jason, when a violent storm was raging, a couple of names were seen playing over their heads, and immediately the tempest was appeased, and the sea became calm. they were invited to a marriage feast, in which lynceus and idas were to be wedded to phoebe and talaria the daughters of leucippus, who was brother to tyndarus. becoming enamoured of the two women whose nuptials they had met to celebrate, they resolved to carry them off. this violence provoked the bridegrooms: a combat ensued, in which castor killed lynceus, and was slain in return by idas--pollux revenged the death of his brother, by slaying idas, but was unable after this to support life, so devotedly was he attached to his brother: and implored jupiter either to restore him to life, or that he might be deprived himself of his immortality. his prayers were granted, and the two brothers passed in turn six months in the infernal regions, and six months on earth. this fraternal affection jupiter rewarded by turning the two brothers into constellations, under the name of gemini. sparta, celebrated in honour of them, a fête called dioscuria, which was observed with jovial festivity: and in which free use was made of the gifts of bacchus, accompanied with sports, in which wrestling matches always formed an important part. * * * * * jason. this celebrated hero was the son of alcemede, by �son; the education of the youthful jason, whose right of succession to the throne of iolchos had been wrested from him by pelias, was entrusted to the care of the centaur chiron, and he was removed from the presence of the usurper of the kingdom of iolchos, because the latter had been informed by an oracle that one of the descendants of �olus, (from whom jason had come) would dethrone him. after he had distinguished himself by the most rapid success in every branch of science, jason left the country, and by the advice of his preceptor, went to consult the oracle. he was ordered to { } go to iolchos, his native country, covered with the spoils of a leopard, and dressed in the garments of a magnesian. in his journey he was stopped by the inundation of a river, over which, however, he was carried by juno, in the character of an old woman. in crossing the stream, he lost one of his sandals, and on his arrival at iolchos, the singularity of his dress, and the fairness of his complexion, attracted the notice of the people, and drew a crowd round him in the market place. pelias came to see him with the others, and, as he had been warned by the oracle, to beware of a man who should appear at iolchos with one foot bare, and the other shod, the appearance of jason, who as we have seen, had lost one of his sandals, alarmed him, and his terrors were soon after augmented, as jason, accompanied by his friends repaired to the palace of pelias, and demanded the kingdom of which he had been unjustly deprived. the boldness of jason intimidated pelias; he was unwilling to abdicate the crown, yet he feared the resentment of his adversary. [illustration] as jason was young and desirous of glory, pelias reminded him that their common relation, phryxus, had been inhumanly murdered by �etes, king of colchis, in order to obtain possession of the golden fleece which belonged to the murdered man; observing, that, the deed merited punishment, and was one which would produce a crown of glory to him who should inflict it; adding, that if jason, were to undertake it, he would resign his own crown and kingdom to him, immediately on his return. burning with the desire of { } military fame, jason readily undertook an expedition which seemed to promise so much glory. the expedition was bruited about all greece, and the young and ardent of the nation were called upon to join him in the glory and the danger. they set sail in a ship called argo and after a series of adventures arrived at colchis. alarmed at an invasion which appeared so formidable, �etes promised to restore the golden fleece for the possession of which he had slain phryxus, provided the invaders consented to the conditions he should propose, and which were as follows: jason was to tame bulls whose breath were fierce flames, with feet and horns of brass, and to plough with them, when subdued, a field sacred to mars. he was then to sow in the ground the teeth of a serpent, from which armed men would spring up, whose rage would be directed against him who should be daring enough to plough the field; and as a conclusion to his arduous tasks, he was to kill a frightful dragon which remained ever on the watch at the tree where the golden fleece was suspended. all were in fear for the fate of the argonauts, but juno watched over their safety, and extricated them from their difficulties. medea, the king's daughter, fell in love with jason, and in an interview with her lover in the temple of hecate, in which they swore a mutual fidelity, and bound themselves by the most solemn oaths, she pledged herself to deliver her lover from all his dangers. her knowledge of herbs, enchantments and incantations, was uncommon, and he received from her whatever instruments and herbs could protect him against the coming dangers. "she then retires to hecate's shrine, that stood far in the covert of a shady wood: she finds the fury of her flames assauged, but, seeing jason there, again they raged. blushes and paleness did by turns invade her tender cheeks, and secret grief betrayed; as fire, that sleeping under ashes lies, fresh blown and roused, does up in blazes rise, new kindled by her lover's sparkling eyes, so flamed the virgin's breast. for chance, that day, had with uncommon grace;, adorned the lovely youth, and thro' his face displayed an air so pleasing, as might charm a goddess, and a vestal's bosom warm. her ravished eyes survey him o'er and o'er, as some gay wonder never seen before; transported to the skies she seems to be and thinks she gazes on a deity, { } but when he spoke and pressed her trembling hand, and did with tender words her heart demand, with vows and oaths to make her soon his bride, she wept a flood of tears, and thus replied. 'i see my error, yet to ruin move, nor owe my fate to ignorance, but love: your life i'll guard, and only crave of you to swear once more--and to your oath be true.' he swears by hecate, he would all fulfil, and by her grandfather's prophetic skill by everything that doubting love could press, his present danger and desired success. she credits him, and kindly does produce enchanted herbs, and teaches him their use, their mystic names, and virtues he admires. and with his booty joyfully retires." ovid. he made his appearance in the field of mars, he tamed the fury of the oxen, he ploughed the earth, and he sowed the teeth of the dragon. immediately a band of armed men arose and rushed towards jason: nothing daunted, the hero threw a stone amongst them, and they fell one upon the other till they were entirely destroyed. he lulled to sleep the watchfulness of the dragon, by the power of herbs, and grasped in triumph the golden fleece which was the the object of his expedition. "impatient for the wonders of the day, aurora drives the loitering stars away. now mars's mount the pressing people fill, the crowd below, the nobles crown the hill: the king himself, high throned above the rest, with ivory sceptre, and in purple drest. forthwith the brass hoofed bulls are set at large, whose furious nostrils sulphurous flames discharge, the blasted herbage by their breath expires, as forges rumble with excessive fires, and furnaces with fiercer fury glow, when water in the panting mass ye throw, with such a noise from their convulsive breast, through bellowing throats the struggling vapour pressed. yet jason marches up without concern, while on the adventurous youth the monsters turn their glaring eyes, and eager to engage, brandish their steel-tipt horns in threatening rage: with brazen hoofs they beat the ground, and choke the ambient air, with clouds of dust and smoke. each gazing grecian for his champion shakes, while bold advances he securely makes through singeing blasts: such wonders magic art can work, when love conspires and plays his part. the passive savages like statues stand, while he their dewlap strokes with soothing hand; { } to unknown yokes their brawny necks they yield, and like tame oxen, plough the wondering field. the colchians state, the grecians shout, and raise their champion's courage with inspiring praise. emboldened now, in fresh attempts he goes, with serpent's teeth the fertile furrows sows; the glebe, fermenting with enchanted juice, makes the snakes' teeth a human crop produce, and from the labouring earth, no single birth but a whole troop of lusty youths rush forth, and what's more strange, with martial fury warmed, and for encounter all completely armed; in rank and file, as they were sowed, they stand impatient for the signal of command, no foe, but the �monian youth appears, as there they level their steep pointed spears. wonders ensue, among his gazing foes the fragment of a massy rock he throws, this charm in civil war engaged them all, by mutual wounds these earth-born brothers fall. one labour more remains, and, though the last, in danger far surmounting all the past; that enterprize by fate in store was kept to make the dragon sleep, that never slept, whose crest shoots dreadful lustre; from his jaws a triple tier of forked stings he draws, with fangs and wings of a prodigious size; such was the guardian of the golden prize. yet him besprinkled with lethean dew the fair enchantress into slumber threw; while the soft guest his drowsy eyelids seals, th' unguarded golden fleece the stranger steals; proud to possess the purchase of his toil, proud of his royal bride, the richer spoil, to sea both prize and patroness he bore, and lands triumphant on his native shore." ovid. all these deeds being performed in the presence of the monarch and his subjects, they were struck with surprise at the boldness and success of the young hero, who immediately embarked for europe with medea, the great instrument of his preservation. enraged at the desertion of his daughter, oeetes sent his son absyrtus to bring back the fugitives. absyrtus overtook them, but was slain by medea, who scattered his limbs upon the path of his father, trusting that oeetes' paternal affection, would make him anxious to render due homage to the remains of his son, and prevent him from following with success. on the return of the expedition to thessaly, they were received with unusual festivity; but oeson, jason's father was unable to be there, owing to the infirmities of age, and medea at her husband's desire, restored him to all the power and vigour of youth. [illustration: jason and medea.] { } with looks averted backward they advance, who strike and stab, and leave the blows to chance waking in consternation, he essays, weltering in blood, his feeble arms to raise; environed by so many swords; 'from whence this barbarous usage? what is my offence? what fatal fury, what infernal charm, 'gainst a kind father does his daughter arm?' hearing his voice, as thunderstruck they stopped their resolution, and their weapons dropped: medea then the mortal blow bestows." the subjects of the deceased king, when they were informed of the cause of his death, were anxious to avenge it, and medea found herself compelled to fly with jason to corinth, in which place they resided forty years. unhappily their matrimonial happiness was disturbed by jason's infidelity with glaucus, the daughter of the king of the country, for whom medea was divorced, that he might follow his amour in comfort. this infidelity was severely avenged by medea, who after destroying the children of glaucus in her presence, presented to her a poisoned gown, and induced her to put it on; it immediately set her whole body on fire, and she died in the most painful torments. this deed was followed by one still more revolting to the mind, for medea slew two of her own children in their father's presence, and when the incensed jason attempted to avenge their murder on the barbarous mother, she escaped by flying through the air in a chariot drawn by dragons. "when medea left her native soil, unawed by danger, unsubdued by toil: her weeping sire, and beckoning friends withstood, and launched enamoured in the boiling flood; one ruddy boy her gentle lips caressed, and one fair girl was pillowed on her breast; while high in air the golden treasure burns, and love and glory guide the prow by turns. but when thessalia's inauspicious plain, received the matron-heroine from the main; while hours of triumph sound, and altars burn. and shouting nations hail their queen's return: aghast, she saw new-decked the nuptial bed, and proud creusa to the temple led; saw her in jason's mercenary arms. deride her virtues and insult her charms: saw her dear babes from fame and empire torn, in foreign realms deserted and forlorn: her love rejected, and her vengeance braved by him, her beauties won, her virtues saved. { } to the stern king of ghosts she next applied. and gentle proserpine, his ravished bride, that for old �son with the laws of fate; they would dispense, and lengthen his short date. thus with repeated prayers she oft assails, the infernal tyrant, and at last prevails; then calls to have decrepid �son brought, and stupifies him with a sleeping draught; this done, th' enchantress, with her locks unbound about her altar trips a frantic round; piecemeal the consecrated wood she splits, and dips the splinters in the gory pits, then hurls them on the piles; the sleeping sire she lustrates thrice, with sulphur, water, fire. * * * * * * his feeble frame resumes a youthful air, a glossy brown his hoary head of hair, the meagre paleness from his aspect fled, and in its room sprung up a florid red: through all his limbs a youthful vigour flies, his emptied arteries swell with fresh supplies. gazing spectators scarce believe their eyes. but �son is the most surprised to find a happy change in body and in mind, in sense and constitution the same man, as when his fortieth active year began." ovid. pelias the usurper, was desirous of following so pleasant an example, and his daughters persuaded by medea, who was anxious to avenge her husband's wrongs, destroyed him with their own hands. their credulity met with a severe punishment, for medea refused to restore him to life. meanwhile pelias with his guards lay bound in magic sleep, scarce that of death so sound: the daughters now are by the sorceress led, into his chamber and surround his bed, 'your fathers health's concerned and can ye stay? unnatural nymphs, why this unkind delay? unsheath your swords, dismiss his lifeless blood, and i'll recruit it with a vital flood: your father's life and health are in your hand, and can ye thus, like idle gazers stand? unless you are of common sense bereft, if yet one spark of piety is left, dispatch a father's cure, and disengage the monarch from his loathsome load of age. thus urged, the poor deluded maids proceed betrayed by zeal to an inhuman deed, and in compassion, make a father bleed. yes, she who has the kindest, tenderest heart, is foremost to perform the bloody part. yet, though to act the butchery betrayed, they could not bear to see the wounds they made, { } with stern regard she eyed the traitor king, and felt ingratitude, the keenest sting; "nor heaven" she cried, "nor earth, nor hell can hold a heart abandoned to the thirst of gold! stamped with wild foot and shook her torrent brow, and called the furies from their dens below!" ovid. when in athens, to which place medea came after leaving corinth, she underwent the penance necessary to purify her from the crimes she had committed, after which she became the wife of king �geus, to whom she bore a son called medus. before his intimacy with medea, �geus had a son named theseus, who had been sent to athens with his father's sword, by the sight of which he was to introduce himself to his father's knowledge when he grew up; as theseus attempted to make himself known to his father, medea, who had grown jealous of the glory he had achieved, tried to poison him at an entertainment to which he had been invited. she failed in her purpose. the king, recognized by the sword he bore, his long lost son, and medea had recourse to her dragons once more, to make her escape through the air, to colchis, where, by some it is stated, she was re-united to jason; while according to other authorities, jason lived a melancholy and unhappy life; and, as he was reposing one day by the side of the ship which had borne him to colchis, a large beam fell upon and crushed him to death. medea also died at colchis, and after her death is said to have been married to achilles in elysium. it is asserted by some writers, that the murder of the two youngest of jason's children, was not committed by medea, but by the corinthians themselves, in the temple of juno acrea; and that to avoid the vengeance of heaven, and to free themselves from a plague which devoured the country after so frightful a massacre, they engaged the poet euripides to write a tragedy which should tend to clear them of the murder, and throw the crime upon the guilty medea. festivals were also appointed, in which the mother was represented as destroying her own offspring, with all the attributes of a fury, and was regarded as a day of solemn mourning. "o haggard queen! to athens dost thou guide thy glowing chariot, steeped in kindred gore; or seek to hide thy foul infanticide where peace and mercy dwell for evermore? { } the land where heaven's own hallowed waters play, where friendship binds the generous and the good, say, shall it hail thee from thy frantic way, unholy woman! with thy hands embrued. in thine own children's gore? oh! ere they bleed, let nature's voice thy ruthless heart appal! pause at the bold, irrevocable deed-- the mother strikes--the guiltless babes shall fall! * * * * * * when o'er each babe you look a last adieu, and gaze on innocence that smiles asleep, shall no fond feeling beat to nature true, charm thee to pensive thought--and bid thee weep? when the young suppliants clasp their parent dear, heave the deep sob, and pour the artless prayer, ay! thou shalt melt; and many a heart-shed tear gush o'er the hardened features of despair! nature shall throb in every tender string,-- thy trembling heart the ruffian's task deny; thy horror smitten hands afar shall fling the blade, undrenched in blood's eternal dye. chorus. hallowed earth! with indignation mark, oh mark, the murderous deed. radiant eye of wide creation, watch th' accursed infanticide! yet, ere colchia's rugged daughter perpetrate the dire design, and consign to kindred slaughter children of the golden line! shall mortal hand, with murder gory, cause immortal blood to flow! sun of heaven!--array'd in glory rise, forbid, avert the blow! in the vales of placid gladness let no rueful maniac range; chase afar the fiend of madness, wrest the dagger from revenge! say, hast thou, with kind protection, reared thy smiling race in vain; fostering nature's fond affection, tender cares, and pleasing pain? hast thou, on the troubled ocean, braved the tempest loud and strong, where the waves, in wild commotion, roar cyanean rocks among? didst thou roam the paths of danger, hymenean joys to prove? spare, o sanguinary stranger, pledges of thy sacred love! ask not heaven's commiseration, after thou hast done the deed; mercy, pardon, expiation, perish when thy victims bleed" euripides. * * * * * { } hercules. this celebrated hero was, after his death, as a reward for the many courageous deeds he had performed, placed among the gods, and rewarded with divine honours. it has been asserted that there were many of the same name, some writers extending the number to forty-three; though of these the son of jupiter and alcmena is the most celebrated, and as such, doubtless, many of their actions have been attributed to him. in order to gain the affections of alcmena, jupiter took the form of her husband, and from this union was born hercules, who was brought up at tirynthus; juno, however, could not look upon him with pleasure, and before he was nine months old, sent two snakes intending them to devour him. far from fearing these terrible enemies, the child grasped them boldly in both his hands, and strangled them, while his brother iphielus shrieked aloud in terror. he was early instructed in those arts in which he afterwards became so famous, for castor taught him to fight, eurytus to shoot with the bow and arrows, and autolycus to drive a chariot; after this, he perfected himself under the tuition of the centaur, chiron. when in the eighteenth year of his age, a huge lion devastated the people, and preyed on the flocks of amphitryon, laying waste also the adjacent country. from this monster hercules relieved them, and when erginus, king of orchomedas, sent for his yearly tribute of one hundred crowns, hercules mutilated the servants who came to raise it, and on erginus coming to avenge their death, he slew him, and delivered his country from the inglorious tribute. these heroic deeds soon became bruited abroad, and creon, who reigned in thebes, rewarded his courage by giving him his daughter in marriage, and entrusting him with the government of his people. as hercules was by the will of jupiter, subjected to the power of eurystheus, the latter, jealous of the fame he was achieving, ordered him to appear before him. proud of his strength and of his successes, the hero refused, and juno to punish him, struck him with a sudden madness, in which he killed his own offspring, imagining them to be those of eurystheus. { } _hercules._ "hast thou beheld the carnage of my sons? _theseus._ i heard, i saw the ills thou showest me. _hercules._ why hast thou then unveiled me to the sun? _theseus._ why not? can mortal man pollute the gods? _hercules._ fly, thou unhappy, my polluting guilt! _theseus._ friends, from their friends, no stain of guilt contract. _hercules._ this hath my thanks, indeed, i thought thee good. _theseus._ and for that good deed, now i pity thee! _hercules._ i want thy pity, i have slain my sons. _theseus._ thee, for thy grace, in other ills i mourn! _hercules._ whom hast thou known involved in ills like these? _theseus._ thy vast misfortunes reach from earth to heaven. _hercules._ i therefore am prepared, and fixed to die. _theseus._ and deemest thou the gods regard thy threats? _hercules._ the gods regard not me, nor i the gods! _theseus._ forbear: lest thy proud words provoke worse ill. _hercules._ i now am full, and can contain no more. _theseus._ what dost thou? whither doth thy rage transport thee? _hercules._ from whence i came, to death's dark realms i go. _theseus._ this is the language of a vulgar spirit. _hercules._ thou from misfortune free, canst counsel me; _theseus._ doth the much suffering hercules say this? _hercules._ he had not suffered this, had ills a mean. _theseus._ the brave protector, the kind friend of men. _hercules._ they nought avail me. _theseus._ greece will not suffer thee to die thus rashly. _hercules._ now hear me whilst my arguments refute all thy monitions. whilst i yet hung on the breast, two hideous serpents came, sent by juno to destroy me, rolled their spires within my cradle. when my age advanced to youth's fresh bloom, why should i say what toils i then sustained? what lions--what dire forms of triple typhons, or what giants, what of monsters banded in the centaur war, did i not quell? the hydra, raged around, with heads still spouting from the sword i slew. these and a thousand other toils endured, to the dark regions of the dead i went, to drag the triple headed dog to light, that guards the gate of pluto;--the command of stern eurystheus. this last bloody deed, (wretch that i am!) the murder of my sons have i achieved, to crown my house with ills. i am reduced to this unhappiness, at my loved thebes i cannot dwell, for here what temple, what assembly of my friends can i approach? pollutions rank as mine, allow no converse. should i go to argos? how, since i fly my country, should i seek refuge in other states, malignant eyes would scowl on me when known, and bitter tongues goad me with these reproaches:--is not this the son of jove, who slew his sons and wife? then bid me thence with curses on my head. { } and to the man, whose former days were passed in happier fortune, mournful is the change; but him, that in distresses hath been trained, naught grieves, as though lie were allied to ills. and to this misery shall i come, i ween. the earth will cry aloud, forbidding me to touch her soil, to pass its waves, the sea, and every fountain whence the rivers flow. thus like ixions, on the whirling wheel in chains, will be my stake: and this were best, that never grecian might behold me more, with whom in better days i have been happy. why therefore should i live? what blessing were it to gain a useless and unhallowed life?" after his recovery he consulted the oracle of apollo, and was told that he must act in compliance with the will of jupiter, and be subservient to the commands of eurystheus for twelve years, and that after he had been successful in the labours to be imposed upon him, he would be admitted amongst the gods. this answer determined him to bear with fortitude whatever gods or men might command, and eurystheus, seeing so perfect a hero subjected to him, ordered him to perform the most terrible and dangerous deeds he could imagine, which are now generally known as the twelve labours of hercules. the favors of the gods had completely armed him when he undertook his labours. he had received a coat of arms and helmet from minerva, a sword from mercury, a horse from apollo, and from vulcan a golden cuirass and brazen buskin, with a celebrated club of brass, according to the opinion of some writers, but more generally supposed to be of wood, and cut by the hero himself in the forest of nemæa. the first labour imposed upon hercules by eurystheus, was to kill the lion of nemæa, which ravaged the country near mycenæ. the hero, unable to destroy him with his arrow, boldly attacked him with his club, pursued him to his den, and after a close and sharp engagement, he choked him to death. he carried the dead beast on his shoulders to mycenæ, and ever after clothed himself with the skin. eurystheus was so astonished at the sight of the beast, and at the courage of hercules, that he ordered him never to enter the gates of the city when he returned from his expeditions, but to wait for his orders without the walls. he even made himself a hiding place into which he retired whenever hercules returned. the second labour of hercules was to destroy the lernæan hydra, which had seven heads. this celebrated { } monster he attacked with his arrows, and soon after he came to a close engagement, and by means of his heavy club, destroyed the heads of his enemy. but this was productive of no advantage, for as soon as one head was beaten to pieces by the club, immediately two sprang up, and the labour of hercules would have remained unfinished, had he not commanded his friend iolas, who accompanied him, to burn, with a hot iron, the root of the head which he had crushed to pieces. this succeeded, and hercules became victorious, opened the belly of the monster, and dipped his arrow in the gall, to render the wounds which he gave, fatal and incurable. he was ordered in his third labour to bring alive and unhurt, into the presence of eurystheus, a stag, famous for its incredible swiftness, its golden horns, and brazen feet. this celebrated animal frequented the neighbourhood of oenoe, and hercules was employed for a whole year in continually pursuing it; at last, he caught it in a trap, or when tired, or according to others by slightly wounding it, and lessening its swiftness. as he returned victorious, diana snatched the stag from him, and severely reprimanded him for molesting an animal which was sacred to her. hercules pleaded necessity, and by representing the commands of eurystheus, he appeased the goddess and obtained the beast. the [illustration] fourth labour was to bring alive to eurystheus a wild boar which ravaged the neighbourhood of erymanthus. in this expedition he { } destroyed the centaurs, and caught the boar by closely pursuing him through the deep snow. eurystheus was so frightened at the sight of the boar, that, according to diodorus, he hid himself in a brazen vessel for some days. in his fifth labour hercules was ordered to clean the stables of augias, where three thousand oxen had been confined for many years. for the sixth, he was ordered to kill the carnivorous birds which ravaged the country near the lake stymphalis, in arcadia. in his seventh, he brought alive into peloponnesus a prodigious wild bull, which laid waste the island of crete. in his eighth, he was employed in obtaining the mares of diomedes, which fed upon human flesh. he killed diomedes, and gave him to be eaten by his mares, which he brought to eurystheus. they were sent to mount olympus by the king of mycenæ, where they were devoured by the wild beasts; or, according to others, consecrated to jupiter, and their breed still existed in the age of alexander the great. for his ninth labour, he was commanded to obtain the girdle of the queen of the amazons. in his tenth, he killed the monster geryon, king of gades, and brought to argos his numerous flocks which fed upon human flesh. the eleventh labour was to obtain apples from the garden of hesperides, three celebrated daughters of hesperus, who were appointed to guard some golden apples, given by jupiter to juno on the day of their marriage. ignorant of the precise situation of the beautiful garden containing them, hercules applied to the nymphs in the neighbourhood of the po for information, and was told that nereus, if properly managed, would direct him in his pursuits. the hero seized nereus while he slept, and the sea god, unable to escape from his grasp, answered all the questions he proposed, which led him to atlas, in africa, and of him, he demanded three of the golden apples. atlas placed the burden of the heavens on the shoulders of hercules, and went in quest of the apples. at his return, hercules expressed a wish to ease his load by putting something on his head, and when atlas assisted him to remove the inconvenience, he artfully left the burden, and seized the apples which atlas had thrown on the ground. according to other accounts, hercules gathered them without the assistance of atlas, after killing a dragon which guarded the tree. { } the twelfth and last, and most dangerous of his labours, was to bring upon earth the three-headed dog cerberus. this was cheerfully undertaken by hercules, and he descended into hell by a cave on mount tænarus. he was permitted by pluto to carry away his friends theseus and pirithous, who were condemned to punishment in hell; and cerberus also was granted to his prayers, provided he made use of no arms, but only force to drag him away. hercules, as some report, carried him back to hell, after he had brought him before eurystheus. besides these arduous labours, which the jealousy of eurystheus imposed upon him, he also achieved others of his own accord, equally great and celebrated. he delivered hesione, a daughter of laomedon, king of troy, from a sea monster, to whom the trojans yearly presented a marriageable maiden; and when the hero had fulfilled his task, laomedon refused to give him the tribute of six beautiful horses, which he had promised to him. hercules, incensed at his treachery, besieged troy, and put the king and his family to the sword. "first, two dread snakes, at juno's vengeful nod, climbed round the cradle of the sleeping god; waked by the shrilling hiss, and rustling sound, and shrieks of fair attendants trembling round, their gasping throats with clenching hands he holds; till death entwists their convoluted folds. and in red torrents from her seven gold heads fell hydra's blood in lerna's lake he sheds; grasps achelous with resistless force, and drags the roaring river to his course: binds with loud bellowing and with hideous yell the monster bull, and three-fold dog of hell." "then, where nemea's howling forests wave, he drives the lion to his dusky cave; seized by the throat the howling fiend disarms, and tears his gaping jaws with sinewy arms; lifts proud anteus from his mother-plains, and with strong grasp, the struggling giant strains; back falls his fainting head, and clammy hair, writhe his weak limbs, and flits his life in air;-- by steps reverted o'er the blood-dropped fen he tracks huge ceacus to his forest den! where breathing flames through brazen lips, he fled, and shakes the rock-roofed cavern o'er his head! last, with wide arms the solid earth he tears, piles rock on rock, on mountain, mountain rears; heaves up huge abyla in afric's sand, crowns with huge calpe europe's salient strand, crests with opposing towers the splendid scene, and pours from urns immense, the sea between. loud o'er her whirling flood charybdis roars affrighted scylla bellows round her shores, vesuvius groans through all his echoing caves, and etna thunders o'er the insurgent waves." [illustration: hercules delivering hesione.] { } when these were performed, he became deeply enamoured of iole, daughter of eurystheus, but she, being refused to his entreaties, he became insane a second time, and murdered iphitus, the only one of the sisters of iole who was willing to assist him in obtaining her. after some time had passed, he was purified from this murder, and his insanity was at an end. however, the gods were not satisfied, but persecuted him still further, for he was smitten with an indisposition which compelled him once more to consult the oracle of delphi. not being pleased with the manner in which his application was received, he resolved, in the heat of passion, to desecrate the sacred temple by plundering it, and carrying away the holy tripod. apollo opposed him, and a fierce conflict ensued, to put an end to which, however, jupiter interfered with his thunderbolts. indignant at the insult offered to the sacred edifice, the oracle declared that it could only be wiped away by the hero becoming a slave, and remaining in the most abject servitude for three years. in compliance with the decree, mercury, by the order of jupiter, sold him to omphale, queen of lydia, as a slave. but his services to this queen so astonished her, that she freed him from his servitude and married him. when the term for which he had been sold expired, hercules left her, and returned to peloponnessus, where he re-established tyndaris on the throne of sparta. after this, he became one of the numerous suitors of dejanira, who had been promised by her father in marriage to that one who should prove the strongest of all his competitors. the most dangerous foe to hercules was achelous, a river god, who, finding himself inferior in strength, changed himself into a serpent, and afterwards into an ox. serpent strangling was, however, nothing new to hercules, and he had but little trouble with his enemy as an ox, until at last achelous retired in disgrace to his bed of waters. after his marriage with dejanira, he was compelled to leave his father-in-law's kingdom, from having accidentally slain one of the citizens. { } on his way to ceyx, accompanied by dejanira, he was stopped by a swollen stream, and nessus, the centaur, offered to convey her safely on his back to the opposite side of the river. as the hero's only anxiety was for her, he accepted the offer with thanks, and when he saw them through the worst part of the water in safety, prepared to follow, but no sooner had the centaur landed with dejanira, than he attempted to offer violence to his beautiful burthen, and to carry her away in the very sight of her husband. the extraordinary efforts of the enraged hercules, brought him up in time to let fly a poisoned arrow at the ravisher, which mortally wounded him. in his anguish, and burning for vengeance on his slayer, he gave dejanira his tunic, which was covered with his blood. [illustration] "take this," he said, feigning a repentance, "if ever your husband prove unfaithful, it will recall him to your arms;" and with this he expired. [illustration: the death of nessus.] { } "for now his bridal charge employed his cares. the strong limbed nessus thus officious cried, for he the shallows of the stream had tried, 'swim thou, alcides, all thy strength prepare, on yonder bank i'll lodge thy nuptial care.' th' aonian chief to nessus trusts his wife. all pale, and trembling for her hero's life: clothed as he stood in the fierce lion's hide, the laden quiver o'er his shoulder tied. far cross the stream his bow and club were cast, swift he plunged in, 'these billows shall be past,' he said, nor sought where smoother waters glide but stemmed the rapid dangers of the tide. the bank he reached, again the bow he bears, when, hark! his bride's known voice alarms his ears, 'nessus, to thee i call,' aloud he cries,-- 'vain is thy trust in flight, be timely wise; thou monster double shaped, my right set free, if thou no reverence owe my fame and me, yet kindred should thy lawless lust deny, think not perfidious wretch, from me to fly; tho' winged with horse's speed, wounds shall pursue,' swift as his words the fatal arrow flew, the centaur's back admits the feathered wood, and thro' his breast the barbed arrow stood, which when in anguish, thro' the flesh he tore from both the wounds gushed forth the spumy gore, mixed with the lernæan venom, this he took, nor dire revenge his dying breast forsook, his garment, in the reeking purple dyed to rouse love's passion, he presents the bride." ovid. ceyx received them both with great favour, but hercules could not forget that he had been refused the hand of iole, although in possession of the heart of dejanira, and therefore made war against her father, killing him, with three of his sons, while his former lover, iole, fell into his hands, and found that she still held no slight possession of his affections. she accompanied him to oeta, where he was going to raise an altar, and offer a sacrifice to jupiter. dejanira, aware of his purpose, and of the affection he had manifested for her rival, sent to him the tunic given her by the centaur, nessus, but no sooner had he put it on, than the poison with which it was saturated, penetrated through his bones, and attaching itself to the flesh, eat into it like fire. "she now resolves to send the fatal vest, dyed with lernæan gore, whose power might move his soul anew, and rouse declining love, nor knew she what her sudden rage bestows, when she to lychas trusts her future woes; with soft endearment she the boy commands, to bear the garment to her husband's hands. th' unwilling hero takes the gift in haste, and o'er his shoulders lerna's poison cast, at first the fire with frankincense he strews, and utters to the gods his holy vows; and on the marble altar's polished frame pours forth the grapy stream; the rising flame sudden dissolves the subtle poisoning juice which taints his blood, and all his nerves bedews. { } with wonted fortitude he bore the smart, and not a groan confessed his burning heart, at length his patience was subdued by pain oetes wide forests echo with his cries; now to rip off the deathful robe he tries. where'er he plucks the vest, the skin he tears the mangled muscles and huge bones he bares. (a ghastly sight!) or raging with his pain, to rend the sick'ning plague, he tugs in vain. as the red iron hisses in the flood, so boils the venom in his curdling blood. now with the greedy flame his entrails glow, and livid sweats down all his body flow. the cracking nerves, burnt up, are burst in twain, the lurking venom melts his swimming brain." ovid. when lychas, by the command of dejanira, had brought the fatal scarf, and hercules became aware of its dreadful power, he seized the messenger, and hurled him into the sea with fearful violence. [illustration] in vain did he attempt to pull it off, he only tore with it masses of flesh. in the midst of his miserable tortures, his groans of anguish were mixed with imprecations on the credulity of dejanira, and the jealousy and hatred of juno, to whom he attributed all his pains. "then lifting both his hands aloft, he cries, 'glut thy revenge, dread empress of the skies; sate with my death the rancour of thy heart, look down with pleasure and enjoy my smart; or, if e'er pity moved a hostile breast for here i stand thy enemy profest;' { } meanwhile, whate'er was in the power of flame, was all consumed; his body's nervous frame no more was known; of human form bereft-- the eternal part of jove alone was left. as an old serpent casts his scaly vest, wreathes in the sun, in youthful glory drest; so, when alcides' mortal mould resigned, his better part enlarged, and grew refined: august his visage shone; almighty jove, in his swift car his honoured offspring drove: high o'er the hollow clouds the coursers fly, and lodge the hero in the starry sky." ovid. if his fame had been universal, his worship soon became equally so, and juno, once so inveterate, consented to his receiving her daughter hebe in marriage. hercules is generally represented as gigantically proportioned, sometimes naked, sometimes covered with the skin of the nemean lion; a thick and knotted club in his hands, on which he is often seen leaning. such are the most important parts of the life of hercules, who is held out by the ancients as a complete pattern of virtue and piety, and is asserted by them to have been employed for the benefit of mankind, and for this was deservedly rewarded with immortality. "o worthy end of his laborious life, the nectared cup, and hebe for a wife! her golden youth did with new transports play, and crowned his toils in empyrean day. yet did he oft, though in her arms he lay, and tasted to the height immortal youth, sigh for young iole, who, soft as may, and rich as summer, yielded up her truth; there by euripus, ever fickle stream, he won a world in her immortal arms, and found his prized honour but a dream lost in the ocean of her gentle charms." thurlow. he has received many surnames and epithets, either from the place where his worship was established, or from the labours which he had achieved; his temples were numerous and magnificent. the phoenicians offered quails on his altars, and as it was supposed that he presided over dreams, the sick and infirm were sent to sleep in his temples, that they might receive in their visions the agreeable presages of their approaching recovery. the children of hercules are as numerous as the labours and difficulties which he underwent, and became so powerful after his death, that they alone had the bravery to invade the peloponnessus. { } "'take hence this hateful life, with tortures torn, inured to trouble, and to labours born. death is the gift most welcome to my woe, and such a gift a stepdame may bestow. was it for this busiris was subdued, whose barbarous temples reeked with stranger's blood? pressed in these arms his fate antæus found, nor gained recruited vigour from the ground. did i not triple-formed geryon fell? or, did i fear the triple dog of hell? did not these hands the bull's armed forehead hold? are not our mighty toils in elis told? did not stymphalian lakes proclaim my fame? and fair parthenian woods resound my name? who seized the golden belt of thermodon? and who the dragon-guarded apples won? could the fair centaur's strength my force withstand? or the fell boar that spoiled the arcadian land? did not these arms the hydra's rage subdue, who from his wounds to double fury grew. what if the thracian horses, fat with gore, who human bodies in their manger tore, i saw, and with their barbarous lord, o'erthrew? what if these hands nemæa's lion slew? did not this neck the heavenly globe sustain? the female partner of the thunderer's reign, fatigued at length, suspends her harsh commands, yet no fatigue has slacked these valiant hands; but now, new plagues consume me; neither force, nor arms, nor darts can stop their raging course, devouring flame through my racked entrails strays, and on my lungs and shrivelled muscles preys.'" ovid. as, however, the distemper was incurable, and death inevitable, he determined to die the hero he had lived, and giving his bow and arrow to philoctetes, he erected a funeral pile on mount oeta, and spreading upon it his lion's skin, lay down with dignity and composure, his head placed upon his club, to await his death. the pile was lighted, and the flames arose in volumes, but the hero gazed calmly upon them, unalarmed at his impending doom. his mind was resolved to meet his fate, when, suddenly, the burning pile was surrounded with dark smoke, the fire burned like a furnace, and when it had consumed the mortal portion of hercules, a chariot and horses was seen awaiting, which carried his immortal part to heaven, there to be seated amongst the gods. loud claps of thunder accompanied his exaltation, and when his friends sought his ashes to grant them burial, unable to find them, they erected an altar to his memory, upon the spot where the burning pile had been. * * * * * { } perseus. this hero was the son of jupiter and danae, the daughter of acresius. as the latter had confined his daughter in a brazen tower, to prevent her becoming a mother, because, according to the words of an oracle, he was to perish by the hands of his daughter's son, perseus was no sooner born, than acresius caused him to be thrown into the sea, with his mother, danae. the hopes of the father were frustrated; for the slight bark which carried danae and her son, was driven on the island of seriphos, one of the cyclades, where they were found by a fisherman named dictys, and carried by him to polydectes, the monarch of the place, by whom they were received with much kindness, and the priests of minerva's temple had the charge of the youthful perseus entrusted to them. his rising genius and great courage fell under the displeasure of polydectes, who feared, lest the love with which he soon became inspired towards danae, and the intentions which he harboured towards her, should meet with the resentment of her son. the monarch, however, resolved to remove every obstacle out of his way, and made a sumptuous banquet, decreeing that all who came should present him with a beautiful horse. to this feast perseus was invited, polydectes being aware that he would not be able to procure the present which the wealth of the remaining guests could enable them to offer. to a high spirited man this was unbearable, and unable to submit to the position of being the only one who had brought no present, and unwilling to appear inferior to the remainder of the guests in splendour, he told polydectes, that though he was unable to give him a horse, he would bring him the head of one of the gorgons, and medusa being the only one subject to mortality, she must be the victim. for more than one reason this was very agreeable to polydectes, in the first place, as it would remove perseus from the island, and the next that, from its seeming impossibility, the attempt might end in his ruin. the gods, however, are the protectors of innocence, and that of perseus was made their peculiar care. pluto lent him his helmet, possessing the wonderful power of making the bearer invisible. the buckler of minerva, as resplendent as glass, was given him by { } that goddess. mercury gave him wings and the calaria, with a short dagger formed of diamonds. with this assistance perseus boldly commenced his expedition, traversing the air, conducted by minerva. he went first to the graces, the sisters of the gorgons, who possessed but one eye and one tooth among the three; with the assistance of pluto's helmet, which rendered him invisible, perseus was able to steal their eye and their tooth while sleeping, and refused to return them until they had informed him where their sisters, the gorgons resided. when the necessary information had been received, perseus sought the habitation of the gorgons, whom he fortunately found asleep. knowing that if he fixed his eyes upon them, he would be changed to stone, he used his shield, which was transparent, as a mirror to reflect the object he sought to destroy. keeping his eyes thus fixed upon them, he approached, minerva supporting his courage, and with one blow of his sword, cut off medusa's head. the noise of the blow awoke the two remaining sisters, who frantic with rage, looked around for the murderer of their sister, but in vain, for he had already put on the invisible helmet of pluto, and the attempts of the gorgons to avenge the death of the sister were fruitless. the conqueror pursued his way through the air, and from the blood which dropped from the head of the slain gorgon he carried with him, arose the innumerable serpents which have for ages infested the sandy deserts of lybia. "where western waves on furthest lybia beat, dreadful medusa fixed her horrid seat. 'twas from this monster, to afflict mankind, that nature first produced the snaky kind: on her at first their forky tongues appeared, from her their dreadful hissings first were heard." ovid chrysaor, who married callirhoe, one of the oceanides, sprung with his golden sword from those drops of blood, as well as the winged pegasus, which flew directly through the air, and stopping on the mount bearing the same name, became a favorite with the muses. in the meantime young perseus pursued his flight through the air, across the deserts of lybia. the approach of night compelled him to seek a brief shelter with atlas, monarch of mauritania. { } "the victor perseus, with the gorgon head, o'er lybian sands his airy journey sped. the gory drops distilled as swift he flew, and from each drop envenomed serpents grew. the mischiefs brooded on the barren plains, and still the unhappy fruitfulness remains. thence perseus, like a cloud, by storms was driv'n, thro' all the expanse beneath the cope of heaven. the jarring winds unable to control, he saw the southern and the northern pole: and eastward thrice, and westward thrice was whirled, and from the skies surveyed the nether world. but when grey ev'ning showed the verge of night, he feared in darkness to pursue his flight. he poised his pinions, and forgot to soar, and sinking, closed them on th' hesperian shore: then begged to rest, till lucifer begun to wake the morn, the morn to wake the sun. here atlas reigned of more than human size, and in his kingdom the world's limit lies. here titan bids his wearied coursers sleep, and cools the burning axle in the deep. the mighty monarch, uncontrolled, alone, his sceptre sways; no neighb'ring states are known. a thousand flocks on shady mountains fed, a thousand herds o'er grassy plains were spread: her wondrous trees their shining stores unfold, their shining stores too wondrous to be told; their leaves, their branches, and their apples, gold. then perseus the gigantic prince addressed, humbly implored a hospitable rest: if bold exploits thy admiration fire, (he said), i fancy, mine thou wilt admire: or if the glory of a race can move, not mean my glory, for i spring from jove." ovid. he went to his palace, expecting to meet with an hospitable reception from atlas, by announcing himself the son of jupiter, but he found himself grievously deceived. it occurred to the recollection of atlas, that an ancient tradition had announced that his gardens were to be plundered of their fruits by one of the sons of the king of heaven; and not only did he rudely refuse to shelter him, but offered violence to his person, and attempted to slay him. finding himself unable to contend with so powerful a foe, perseus was obliged to have recourse to the head of medusa, and atlas was instantly changed into a large mountain, which bore the same name in the deserts of africa. "at this confession atlas ghastly stared, mindful of what an oracle declared, that the dark womb of time concealed a day, which should, disclosed, the gloomy gold betray: { } all should at once be ravished from his eyes, and jove's own progeny enjoy the prize. for this, the fruit he loftily immured, and a fierce dragon the strait pass secured; for this, all strangers he forbade to land, and drove them from the inhospitable strand, to perseus then: 'fly quickly, fly this coast, nor falsely dare thy acts and race to boast.' in vain the hero for one night entreats; threat'ning he storms, and next adds force to threats. by strength not perseus could himself defend, for who in strength with atlas could contend?-- 'but since short rest to me thou wilt not give, a gift of endless rest from me receive.--' he said, and backward turned, no more concealed the present, and medusa's head reveal'd. soon the high atlas a high mountain stood; his locks, and beard, became a leafy wood: his hands and shoulders into ridges went, the summit head still crowned the deep ascent: his bones a solid, rocky hardness gained: he thus immensely grown (as fate ordained), the stars, the heavens, and all the gods sustained. [illustration] as perseus pursued his journey, after inflicting this just punishment upon his foe, across the territories of lybia, he discovered on the coast of ethiopia, the beautiful andromeda, exposed to the fury of a sea-monster, which for some time had ravaged the country, and to appease which, the oracle of jupiter ammon had declared, { } nothing could avail, excepting the exposure of the maiden to its anger. at this moment, when the monster was going to destroy her, perseus saw, and was captivated with her beauty. [illustration] he offered cepheus, her father, his aid in delivering her from danger, provided he would give the maiden to him in marriage, as a reward for his exertions. "chained to a rock she stood; young perseus stayed his rapid flight, to view the beauteous maid. so sweet her form, so exquisitely fine, she seemed a statue by a hand divine, had not the wind her waving tresses shewed and down her cheeks the melting sorrows flowed. her faultless form the hero's bosom fires, the more he looks, the more he still admires. th' admirer almost had forgot to fly, and swift descended, fluttering, from on high." ovid. this princess had been promised in marriage to phineus, her uncle, when neptune sent a sea-monster to ravage the country, because cassiope, her mother, had boasted herself fairer than juno and the nereides. "in me the son of thundering jove behold, got in a kindly shower of fruitful gold, medusa's snaky head is now my prey, and through the clouds i boldly wing my way. { } if such desert be worthy of esteem, and, if your daughter i from death redeem. shall she be mine? shall it not then be thought, a bride, so lovely, was too cheaply bought? for her, my arms, i willingly employ, if i may beauties, which i save, enjoy." ovid. cepheus consented to bestow his daughter upon perseus, and immediately the hero raised himself in the air, flew towards the monster, as it advanced to devour andromeda, and plunging his dagger in his right shoulder, destroyed it. this happy event was attended with great rejoicings, and the nuptials of andromeda with perseus, soon followed. the universal joy, was, however, quickly interrupted: for phineus, dissatisfied with thus losing his promised bride, entered the palace with a number of armed men, and attempted to carry her off. in vain did the father and mother of andromeda interfere. "chief in the riot, phineus first appeared, the rash ringleader of this boisterous herd, and brandishing his brazen pointed lance, 'behold,' he said, 'an injured man advance,' stung with resentment for his ravished wife, nor shall thy wings o perseus, save thy life; nor jove himself, tho' we've been often told he got thee in the form of tempting gold. his lance was aimed, when cepheus ran and said; 'hold, brother, hold, what brutal rage has made your frantic mind so black a crime conceive? are these the thanks that you to perseus give? this the reward that to his worth you pay, whose timely valour saved andromeda? nor was it he, if you would reason right, that forced her from you, but the jealous spite of envious nereids, and jove's high degree, and that devouring monster of the sea, that, ready with his jaws wide gaping stood, to eat my child, the fairest of my blood. you lost her then when she seemed past relief, and wish'd, perhaps, her death, to ease your grief with my afflictions; not content to view andromeda in chains, unhelped by you, her spouse and uncle, will you grieve that he exposed his life, the dying maid to free? and shall you claim his merit? had you thought her charms so great, you should have bravely sought, that blessing on the rocks where fixed she lay; but now let perseus bear his prize away. by service gained, by promised faith possessed; to him i owe it, that my age is blest still with a child: nor think that i prefer perseus to thee, but to the loss of her." ovid. { } a fierce contest ensued, and perseus must have fallen a victim to the fury of phineus, had he not employed the same arms which had proved so successful against atlas. "fierce phineus now repents the wrongful fight, and views his varied friends, a dreadful sight; he knows their faces, for their help he sues, and thinks, not hearing him, that they refuse, by name lie begs their succour, one by one, then doubts their life, and feels the friendly stone. struck with remorse, and conscious of his pride, convict of sin he turn'd his eyes aside; with suppliant mien to perseus thus he prays, 'hence with the head, as far as winds and seas can bear thee: hence; oh! quit the cephan shore and never curse it with medusa more; that horrid head which stiffens into stone, those impious men who daring death, look on: i warred not with thee out of hate or strife, my honest cause was to defend my wife, first pledged to me; what crime could i suppose to arm my friends, and vindicate my spouse? 'twas thine to conquer by minerva's power, favoured of heaven, thy mercy i implore, for life i sue, the rest to thee i yield: in pity from my sight remove the shield!' phineus turned to shun the shield, full in his face the staring head he held, as here and there he strove to turn aside, the wonder wrought, the man was petrified, all marble was his frame, his burned eyes, dropped tears which hung upon the stone like ice; in suppliant posture, with uplifted hands and fearful look, the guilty statue stands." ovid. he but showed the head of the gorgon to his adversaries, and they turned to stone in the very attitudes they were when they first beheld it. the friends of cepheus, however, and those who assisted perseus, were saved from the same fate by a previous warning of perseus. soon after this memorable adventure, perseus went to seriphos, and arrived there at the very moment that his mother danae sought the altar of minerva, to save herself from the violence of polydectes; dictys, who had preserved her and perseus from the sea, had attempted to defend her from her enemy, and perseus therefore sensible of his merit and of his humanity, placed him on the throne of seriphos, after he had employed medusa's head to turn the wicked polydectes { } into stone, with those of his court who were accomplices in his guilt. when these celebrated exploits were finished, perseus felt a desire to return to his native country, and arrived with his mother and andromeda on the peloponnesian coast, as some funeral games were being celebrated in honour of the deceased king of larissa. here he sought to signalise himself in throwing the quoit, but in this he was attended by an evil fate, and had the misfortune to kill a man with a quoit which he had thrown in the air: this proved to be acresius, who thus met the fate the oracle had decreed, and to avoid which, he had been guilty of the barbarous act of throwing his daughter and her son into the sea. this unfortunate murder preyed upon the spirit of perseus, and though by the death of acresius he was entitled to the throne of argos, he refused to accept it, fearing it would constantly remind him of the parricide he had committed; and exchanged his kingdom for the maritime coast of argolis. the time of the death of perseus is unknown, it is universally agreed however, that he received divine honours like the rest of the ancient heroes. [illustration] heroes. heroes are mortals, who, by their glorious achievements, have excited the admiration of their kind, and received the respect due to those immortal spirits, who have distinguished themselves in the service of their country. homer represents a hero as a prince of the ancient time, loved and protected by the gods: while in hesiod, they are the early order of beings who preceded the frail human race. { } theseus. "aye, this is he, a proud and mighty spirit: how fine his form, gigantic! moulded like the race that strove to take jove's heaven by storm, and scare him from olympus. there he sits, a demi-god, stern as when he of yore forsook the maid who, doating saved him from the cretan toil, where he had slain the minotaur. alas! fond ariadne, thee did he desert, and heartless left thee on the naiad's shore to languish. this is he who dared to roam the world infernal, and on pluto's queen, ceres' own lost prosperina, did lay his hand: thence was he prisoned in the vaults beneath, 'till freed by hercules. methinks (so perfect is the phidian stone) his sire, the sea god neptune, hath in anger stopped the current of life, and with his trident touch hath struck him into marble." barry cornwall. [illustration] this hero, one of the most celebrated of antiquity, was the son of �geus, by �thra, daughter of pittheus, though not publicly acknowledged to be the king of athens, being educated at træzene, in the house of pittheus. when he came to maturity, he was sent by his mother to �geus, and a sword which had been hidden beneath a stone until he became of age, and by which he was to { } make himself known to his parent, was shown to him, and ordered to be taken. the usual journey for travellers to his father's court, at athens, was by sea, but theseus determined to signalise himself by encountering the dangers which attended the journey on land, and which consisted in robbers and wild beasts, rendering the road almost impassable: however, these obstacles were all met, and destroyed by his courage. he arrived at athens in safety, where his reception was not so cordial as he hoped, for medea, who resided with �geus, felt that her influence with this monarch would be destroyed, if once theseus gained his proper footing in his father's house, and she tried to poison him before his return was known to the athenians. with a refinement of cruelty, she endeavoured to make �geus give a cup of poison to him, as an unknown stranger at a feast; but the sword at his side saved theseus, for his father recognised it, and introduced him to the people of athens as his son, all of whom gladly hailed the illustrious man, who had cleansed them of robbers and pirates, as the offspring of their monarch. the pallantides, however, who expected to succeed their uncle on his throne, were enraged at the reception of theseus, and attempted to assassinate him; their barbarous intent recoiled upon themselves, for they were all slain by young theseus. the bull of marathon which ravaged the neighbouring country, next engaged his attention, and taking the animal alive, he led it through the streets of athens, previously to sacrificing it on the altar of minerva. at this time, the minotaur was receiving the annual tribute of seven of the noblest youth of athens, and theseus could not fail of being ranked among them, to be devoured by the monster. ------------"the minotaur was fed, with human victims for androgeos dead. the flower of athens were compelled to bleed, for thus the cruel oracle decreed, till theseus; to preserve his country's blood, himself devoted for the public good." ovid. the wish to deliver his native land from this danger, induced him voluntarily to undertake the expedition; and before his departure, he promised his father, if he should be successful, to hoist a white sail on his return. ariadne, the daughter of minos, became enamoured of him and by { } assisting him in the enterprise, he was successful and killed the minotaur. on his return from his victory there, he was driven by contrary winds on the isle of naxos, where he had the meanness to desert ariadne, whose conduct had been the means of his glorious triumph, and to whom he was even indebted for his life. when he came in sight of athens, he forgot, in the height of his success, to hoist the white sail he had promised his father, who, seeing a black sail upon his son's ship, despairingly threw himself into the sea. "on a high rock that beetles o'er the flood, with daily care the pensive father stood; and when he saw impatient from afar? the fatal signal floating in the air, thinking his theseus was untimely slain, he rashly plunged himself beneath the main!" his ascension to his father's throne was received with much pleasure, the country was governed with mildness, new reputation acquired and new laws enacted. the renown he gained by his victory and policy, made his alliance courted in general; but pirithous king of the lapithæ, sought the more singular mode of gaining it by meeting him in fight. he invaded the territories of theseus, and when the latter assembled his forces to meet him, the two foes as they gazed on each other, were seized with a sudden and mutual friendship, and rushed into each others arms: from that time, their affection became proverbial. theseus was present at the nuptials of his friend, and when the brutal centaurs attempted to insult the bride, was one of the most forward to defend: and when pirithous, after this, had lost hippodamia, he agreed with theseus to carry away one of the daughters of the gods. they first attempted their scheme upon helen, the beautiful daughter of leda, and when they had obtained their victim, cast lots for her: theseus was successful, and she became his prize. shortly after, he assisted his friend in his attempt to descend into the infernal regions and carry away proserpine, but cerberus was too watchful, and pluto apprised of their intentions, stopped them: pirithous was placed on ixion's wheel, and theseus secured to a large stone on which he had seated himself to rest. { } by the assistance of hercules, however, in his descent into hell, the two heroes were released from their captivity, and when theseus returned to athens, he found that mnestheus had usurped the crown which should have fallen upon his children. in vain did theseus attempt to eject the usurper, the athenians remained faithful to their new choice, and theseus retired in disgust to the court of lycomedes, king of scyros. here he met with apparent sympathy, but lycomedes soon showed his true character, for enticing his guest to the top of a high mountain, he took an opportunity of throwing theseus over a deep precipice. the children of this hero at the death of the usurper, regained the throne of athens: and that the memory of their father might not be without honour, sent for his remains from scyros, and gave them a magnificent burial. they also raised to him statues and a temple; festivals and games were also instituted in his honour, to commemorate the actions of a hero who had rendered such signal services to the athenian people. _leonarde._ "'tis one of those bright fictions that have made the name of greece only another word, for love and poetry: with a green earth, groves of the graceful myrtle, summer skies, whose stars are mirrored in ten thousand streams, with winds that move in perfume and in music, and more than all, the gift of woman's beauty. what marvel that the earth, the sky, the sea, were filled with all those fine imaginings that love creates, and that the lyre preserves! _alvine._ but for the history of that pale girl who stands so desolate on the sea-shore? _leonarde._ she was the daughter of a cretan king-- a tyrant. hidden in the dark recess of a wide labyrinth, a monster dwelt, and every year was human tribute paid by the athenians. they had bowed in war; and every spring the flowers of all the city, young maids in their first beauty, stately youths, were sacrificed to the fierce king! they died in the unfathomable den of want, or served the minotaur for food. at length there came a royal youth, who vowed to slay the monster or to perish! look, alvine, that statue is young theseus! _alvine._ glorious! how like a god he stands, one haughty hand raised in defiance! i have often looked { } upon the marble, wondering it could give such truth to life and majesty. _leonarde._ you will not marvel ariadne loved. she gave the secret clue that led him safe throughout the labyrinth, and she fled with him. _alvine._ ah! now i know your tale: he proved untrue-- this ever has been woman's fate, to love, to know one summer day of happiness, and then to be most wretched! _leonarde._ she was left by her so heartless lover while she slept. she woke from pleasant dreams--she dreamt of him-- love's power is left in slumber--woke and found herself deserted on the lonely shore. the bark of the false theseus was a speck scarce seen upon the waters, less and less, like hope diminishing, till wholly past. i will not say, for you can fancy well, her desolate feelings as she roamed the beach, hurled from the highest heaven of happy love! but evening crimsoned the blue sea, a sound of music and of mirth, came on the wind, and radiant shapes and laughing nymphs danced by, and he the theban god, looked on the maid, and looked and loved, and was beloved again. he has just flung her starry crown on high, and bade it there, a long memorial shine, how a god loved a mortal--he is springing from out his golden car, another bound, bacchus is by his ariadne's side." l. e. l. [illustration] theseus married phædra, daughter of minos, sister of the unfortunate ariadne whom he had left to perish. phædra, however, unhappily, felt a guilty love for hippolytus, son of theseus by a previous union. venus, having a dislike to minos, the father of phædra, sent cupid to pierce her with his shafts. { } for a long time she struggled with the pangs which raged within her, but they grew too fierce to be endured, and she revealed to him her love. _phæ._ "'my lord, 'tis said you soon will part from us. _hip._ madam! _phæ._ i pray you do not leave us! _hip._ my duty, lady!-- _phæ._ would that that duty, were in pleasing me; _hip._ to please you, lady, were my highest wish, to gain your love, my highest privilege. _phæ._ to gain my love? _hip._ aye, madam! _phæ._ hippolytus! the fearful truth will out, _my love is gained_! _hip._ i hope, indeed so,--as a mother. _phæ. aside_--(how coldly doth _he_ speak, while thro' _my_ veins the hot blood bounds in fierce convulsive starts.) not as a mother do i love thee, but--as a woman--now my breast is free of the stern secret which so long hath burned and given a fever to my very looks. _hip._ madam! i do not understand you; _phæ._ you must! fierce, burning love is mine, for you, hippolytus, the son of theseus! _hip._ and you his wife? _phæ._ aye, boy, 'tis even so; nay, look not so:--i say hippolytus, that from the very hour i saw, i loved thee; that from the very moment that thy voice rang in my ears, it entered in my heart, that from the hour i was theseus' wife, even at the altar, where my plight was vowed, my thoughts were all of thee. speak, speak, and say thou dost not hate me. _hip._ some sudden frenzy hath upset thy brain-- thou knowest not what thou speakest. _phæ._ i am not mad! would to the gods i were-- think not that i have yielded willingly, unto the passion which i now avow, daily, and hourly, have i striven against it: and night by night, when visions and when dreams pressed on my brain in many a confused shape, all bearing one image, and that image thine, i have striven, wrestled, fought against this love, but all in vain. _hip._ i scarcely dare believe mine ears, a dream seems on me, like a man in sleep, a mass of dim confusion gathers round me; am i indeed hippolytus, and art thou phædra? _phæ._ i am thy phædra! theseus has my hand, but thou, hippolytus, thou hast my heart. _hip._ theseus--my father-- { } [illustration] _phæ._ thy father and my husband, what of that? love knows no ties save those he makes himself, speak to me-- say that i yet may hope to lay my head on that dear bosom, say thou wilt not spurn the heart that rests its only hope on thee. say, or, but look, a clear return of love, and i will fall upon my knees adoring thee! _hip._ madam, i would not, could not wrong my father; and thou, how canst thou meet his face? shame, shame, upon the wanton love that leaves the marriage bed, even were it but in thought: and thou above thy compeers raised afar, in that thy name is mated with my father's, shouldst pray the gods to scourge this passion from thee. _phæ._ oh! by thine hopes of heaven i pray thee peace! _hip._ peace, thou! adultress! peace, thou, shameless one, away, lest i should change a husband's love, into a husband's hate. _phæ._ thou canst not do it! _hip._ what if i did proclaim to him thy guilt? what if i said--father! thy wife, my mother, hath offered me the love due but to thee, hath with a shameless love, and wanton's insolence, deemed she could win me to her bed-- woman, i tell thee-- { } _phæ._ and i tell thee, that he would not believe thee. yet--say it not, hippolytus! for i do love thee as-- _hip._ i'll hear no more! _mother!_ i leave thee, and i pray the gods to visit not on thee, this awful crime!'" racine. fearful lest hippolytus should betray her, when she found he would not return her sinful passion, phædra accused his son to theseus of the very crime of which she had herself been guilty, and excited the father's ire against his son in a terrible degree. [illustration] _the._ "'dost thou dare look upon me boy? _hip._ my father? _the._ dost see this sword? _hip._ aye! _the._ dost dread it? _hip._ no; the innocent have nought to fear; _the._ now by my crown, this is most base effrontery, but 'tis in vain, thy mother hath told all, hath told how, with an impious love, thy heart hath turned to her's; how with an impure lip, thy words have pierced her to the soul. _hip._ and dost thou doubt me father? _the._ perfidious wretch! can'st stand before me thus? monster too long escaped jove's fearful thunder, after a love filled with an awful horror and transports of affection fiercely urged, that would pollute thy father's marriage bed, thou darest present to me thy traitor brow, and vow thine innocence. away from these scenes of thine infamy, away and seek beneath a sky unknown, a land where theseus' name hath never sounded; fly, traitor! brave no longer here, my hate! within a court that i shall hold with dread, { } for ever will the curse cling to my name, and endless infamy my memory, that, having given birth to one so shameless, i dared not take the life i gave to him! wretch that thou art, dost thou not answer me? _hip._ sire, i am not the wretch that thou would'st make me. horror--astonishment--have kept me silent-- _the._ darest thou add falsehood to thine infamy? _hip._ thy words are most unjust! _the._ and there thou standest with a brow as calm as innocence itself. _hip._ in this i am most innocent!-- nay, interrupt me not, for i will speak-- thou hast accused me of an awful crime, thou hast accursed me with a father's curse, and i must vindicate myself or die? phædra, my mother, and thy wife, avowed in accents shameless as the wish she breathed, a most incestuous passion for my person: with fierce disdain i spurned her offered love, implored her to remember that i stood before her as thy son, and did entreat her to come back to the straight path of her duty. _the._ and dost thou think that thou canst thus deceive me? away, away, no more pollute my court; wert thou not called my son, thy time were short.'" racine. banished thus from the court of his father, the only consolation for a long time that hippolytus possessed, was the consciousness of innocence. remorse, however, at last preyed upon the bosom of phædra; after taking poison she confessed to theseus the crime of which she had been guilty, and hippolytus was restored to the affections of his father. the name of theseus had been rendered by his bravery so conspicuous and so dreaded by his enemies, that a tradition became popular, to the effect that he appeared at the battle of marathon to fight for the greeks, who seemed likely to be overwhelmed by the numbers of their opponents. "know ye not when our dead from sleep to battle sprung? when the persian charger's tread on their covering greensward rung! when the trampling march of foes had crushed our vines and flowers, when jewelled crests arose through the holy laurel bowers, when banners caught the breeze, when helms in sunlight shone, when masts were on the seas, and spears in marathon. { } "there was one a leader crowned, and armed for greece that day; but the falchions made no sound on his gleaming war array. in the battle's front he stood, with his tall and shadowy crest; but the arrows drew no blood, though their path was thro' his breast. when banners caught the breeze, &c. "his sword was seen to flash where the boldest deeds were done; but it smote without a clash; the stroke was heard by none! his voice was not of those that swelled the rolling blast, and his steps fell hushed like snows,-- 'twas the shade of theseus passed! when banners caught the breeze, &c. "far sweeping thro' the foe, with a furious charge he bore, and the mede left many a bow on the sounding ocean shore, and the foaming waves grew red, and the sails were crowded fast, when the sons of asia fled as the shade of theseus passed! when banners caught the breeze, when helms in sunlight shone, when masts were on the seas, and spears in marathon!" hemans. [illustration] { } orpheus. the distinguished honour which the ancients rendered to orpheus, appears to have been an homage paid by the refinement of the age to music and poetry, of which he was so distinguished an ornament. he was the son of oeager by the muse calliope, though some assert him to have been the son of apollo, because the god, owing to the genius he showed for music, presented him with a lyre, to the improvement of which orpheus added two cords,--and upon which he played with so masterly a hand, that the river in its rapid current ceased to flow, the wild beasts of the forest forgot their nature, and gazed on him in mute admiration, while the very rocks moved towards him to express their joy. "the rocks re-echo shrill, the beasts of forest wild stand at the cavern's mouth, in listening trance beguiled. the birds surround the den, and, as in weary rest, they drop their fluttering wings, forgetful of the rest, amazed the centaur saw; his clapping hands he beat, and stamped in ecstacy the rock with hoofed and horny feet." but though this beautiful art was his master passion, he did not forget the charms of theology and philosophy, in both of which he was a proficient, and in egypt, to which place he made a voyage, he was admitted to the sacred mysteries of isis and osiris. on his return he was the originator of many changes in the religious ceremonials of his country, and was received as the minister and interpreter of the will of the gods. nature itself seemed charmed and animated by his presence, and the nymphs made his company their chief desire. it was not long before the winged deity pierced him with his arrows, and orpheus loved the nymph eurydice, the only one whose charms touched the melodious musician; with her his happiness was made perfect by an union, at which hymen presided. this happiness, however, was not destined to last very long, for aristæus became enamoured of the musician's bride, and with all the violence of an illicit passion, sought to win her from the bridegroom's affections. eurydice resisted and fled; but as she fled from him, a serpent stung her with so deadly a bite, that she died on the field. { } deep was the despair felt by orpheus at his unexpected loss, and the daring determination was formed by him to recover her, or perish in the attempt. [illustration] "his own despair the very stones admire and rolling follow his melodious lyre, he forced the heart of hardest oak to groan, and made fierce tigers leave their rage and moan." with his resistless lyre in his hands, he crossed the styx, penetrated into the infernal regions, and gained admission to the presence of pluto! here the power of his genius was yet more eminently exhibited; for even the tortures of hell gave way to it. "at his powerful song the very seats of erebus were moved; the retreats of all the ghosts were opened, and they swarm like bees in clusters, when the sun grows warm!" not only was the god of the infernal regions delighted, but the very wheel of ixion paused; the stone of sisyphus rested, as they listened to its sounds: the cooling water reached tantalus' burning mouth, and even the furies relented. "already had he passed the courts of death, and charmed with sacred verse the powers beneath; while hell with silent admiration hung, on the soft music of his harp and tongue; no longer tantalus essayed to sip the springs that fled from his deluded lip; their urn the fifty maids no longer fill, ixion leant and listened on his wheel, and sysiphus' stone for once stood still; the ravenous vulture had forsook his meal, and titius felt his growing liver heal; relenting fiends to torture souls forbore, and furies wept who never wept before. { } all hell in harmony was heard to move, with equal sweetness as the spheres above. the wondrous numbers softened all beneath hell, and the inmost flinty seats of death: snakes round the furies heads did upward rear, and seemed to listen to the pleasing air, while fiery styx in milder streams did roll, and cerberus gaped, but yet forbore to howl, no longer was the charming prayer denied, all hell consented to release his bride." ovid. [illustration] the sorrow and love of orpheus penetrated the hearts of pluto and proserpine; they consented to restore him to the arms of eurydice, if he could forbear to look behind him before he reached the borders of hell. gladly were these conditions accepted by orpheus, and already was he by the river styx, eager to be conveyed across by the infernal boatman, when a touching thought of eurydice and her love crossed his mind, and he looked back. "near the confines of ethereal air, unmindful and unable to forbear, mistrusting also lest her steps might stray, and gladsome of the glimpse of dawning day, he stopped--looked back--(what cannot love persuade?) to take one view of the unhappy maid. his longing eyes impatient backward cast, to catch a lover's look--but looked his last: { } here all his pains were lost, one greedy look, defeats his hopes, and hell's conditions broke, a fatal messenger from pluto flew, and snatched the forfeit from a second view, for instant dying, she again descends, while he to empty air his arms extends!" ovid. [illustration] the condition being thus broken, he saw her, but at the same moment she was turned into a shadow. "and fainting cries, 'what fury thee possest? what frenzy, orpheus, seized upon thy breast? once more my eyes are seized with endless sleep, and now farewell, i sink into the deep.' oblivious cells surrounded all with night. no longer thine: in vain to stop my flight i stretch my arms, in vain thou stretchest thine, in vain thou grievest, i in vain repine.'" virgil. { } he returned to the upper world, where the only solace which he could find, was to soothe his grief with the tones of his musical instrument, to the sound of which, the mountains and caves of his native land bore a melancholy echo. he secluded himself entirely from the company of mankind; in vain was his society sought by the thracian women; he rejected their overtures with coldness, until enraged at his behaviour, they attacked him while celebrating the bacchanalian orgies. "here while the thracian bard's enchanting strain, sooths beasts and woods, and all the listening plain: the female bacchanals devoutly mad, in shaggy skins, like savage creatures clad, warbling in air perceived his lovely lay, and from a rising ground beheld him play: when one, the wildest, with dishevelled hair that loosely streamed, and ruffled in the air: soon as her frantic eye the lyrist spied 'see, see, the hater of our sex,' she cried, then at his face her missive javelin sent, which whizzed along, and brushed him as it went; but the soft wreaths of ivy twisted round, prevent a deep impression of the wound, next their fierce hands the bard himself assail, nor can his song against their wrath prevail; in vain he lifts his suppliant hands, in vain he tries, before his never failing strain; and, from those sacred lips, whose thrilling sound fierce tigers and insensate rocks could wound, ah gods! how moving was the mournful sight, to see the fleeting soul now take its flight!" dryden. after tearing his body to pieces, they threw his head into the hebrus, which, as it rolled down the current, ejaculated with touching tenderness, 'eurydice! eurydice!' until it reached the �gean sea. the inhabitants of dian asserted that his tomb was in their city, but the people of mount libethrus, in thrace, claimed the same honour, remarking that the nightingales which formed their nests near it, excelled all others in melody and beauty. after his death, he is reported by some to have received divine honours, the muses rendering the rites of sepulture to his remains, and his lyre becoming one of the constellations. * * * * * { } admetus was the king of thessaly, whose flocks were tended by apollo for nine years, when banished from heaven. during his servitude to this monarch he obtained a promise from the fates, that admetus should never die if another person would lay down his life for him. being one of the argonauts, he was at the hunt of the calydonian boar, when pelias promised his daughter in marriage to him only, who could bring him a chariot drawn by a lion and wild boar. with the aid of apollo, admetus effected this, and obtained the hand of alcestis. by the fortune of war, he became a prisoner, and was condemned to death; alcestis, with a beautiful display of conjugal affection, laid down her life to save her husband from the cruel death prepared for him. death-song of alcestis. "she came forth in her bridal robes arrayed, and midst the graceful statues round the hall shedding the calm of their celestial mien, stood pale, yet proudly beautiful as they: flowers in her bosom, and the star-like gleam of jewels trembling from her braided hair and death upon her brow! but glorious death! her own heart's choice, the token of the seal of love, o'ermastering love; which till that hour, almost an anguish in the brooding weight of its unutterable tenderness, had burdened her full soul. but now, oh! now, its time was come--and from the spirit's depths the passion and the melody of its immortal voice, in triumph broke like a strong rushing wind! the soft pure air came floating through that hall--the grecian air, laden with music--flute notes from the vales, echoes of song--the last sweet sounds of life and the glad sunshine of the golden clime streamed, as a royal mantle, round her form-- the glorified of love! but she--she look'd only on him for whom 'twas joy to die, deep--deepest, holiest joy!--or if a thought of the warm sunlight, and the scented breeze, and the sweet dorian songs, o'erswept the tide of her unswerving soul--'twas but a thought that owned the summer loveliness of life to him a worthy offering--so she stood wrapt in bright silence, as entranced awhile, till her eye kindled, and her quivering frame with the swift breeze of inspiration shook, as the pale priestess trembles to the breath { } of unborn oracles! then flushed her cheek, and all the triumph, all the agony, born on the battling waves of love and death all from her woman's heart, in sudden song burst like a fount of fire, 'i go, i go, thou sun, thou golden sun, i go far from thy light to dwell: thou shalt not find my place below, dim is that world--bright sun of greece, farewell! the laurel and the glorious rose thy glad beam yet may see, but where no purple summer glows o'er the dark wave i haste from them and thee. yet doth my spirit faint to part, i mourn thee not, o sun! joy, solemn joy, o'erflows my heart, sing me triumphant songs! my crown is won. let not a voice of weeping rise--, my heart is girt with power let the green earth and festal skies laugh, as to grace a conqueror's closing hour! for thee, for thee, my bosom's lord! thee, my soul's loved! i die; thine is the torch of life restored, mine, mine the rapture, mine the victory. now may the boundless love, that lay unfathomed still before in one consuming burst find way, in one bright flood all, all its riches pour. thou knowest--thou knowest what love is now! its glory and its might-- are they not written on my brow? and will that image ever quit thy sight? no! deathless in thy faithful breast, there shall my memory keep its own bright altar place of rest, while o'er my grave the cypress branches weep. oh, the glad light! the light is fair, the soft breeze warm and free; and rich notes fill the scented air, and all are gifts, my love's last gifts to thee! take me to thy warm heart once more! night falls, my pulse beats low; seek not to quicken, to restore-- joy is in every pang,--i go, i go! i feel thy tears, i feel thy breath, i meet thy fond look, still keen is the strife of love and death; faint and yet frantic grows my bosom's thrill. yet swells the tide of rapture strong, though mists o'ershade mine eye! sing pæans! sing a conqueror's song! for thee, for thee, my spirit's lord, i die!'" hemans. * * * * * { } amphion and niobe. amphion was king of thebes, the favourite of apollo and rival of the celebrated orpheus in the science of music. it is related of him, that in order to build the walls which surrounded his capital, he played upon his lyre, and by its divine power, the stones came and ranged themselves in order. he married niobe, by whom he had seven sons and seven daughters; the trials of this princess have been given in the history of apollo, leaving a touching memorial of the sorrows of maternal love and tenderness. * * * * * oedipus, king of thebes. oedipus was the son of laius and jocasta; and being descended from venus, was compelled to endure all the troubles which juno might choose to inflict on him, from the hatred she bore to the goddess of beauty. [illustration] no sooner had the marriage of laius taken place with jocasta, than it was foretold by the oracle, that he would fall by the hands { } of his son. alarmed at so fearful a prediction, he resolved not to approach his wife. having broken this wise resolution, however, he became the father of oedipus, but to avert the oracle, he ordered jocasta to destroy the infant immediately he was born. the mother was unable to obey this cruel command, but gave him in charge to one of her domestics, with directions to leave him on the mountains. instead of obeying this order, the servant bored a hole in the feet of the child, and hung him on a tree on mount cithæron, where he was soon found by one of the shepherds of polybus, king of corinth. [illustration] the shepherd took him and presented him to peribæa, the wife of polybus, who conceived a maternal tenderness for the deserted child, and adopted him as her own. the accomplishments of the boy, who was named oedipus, soon became the admiration of the age; he was informed that he was illegitimate, though peribæa, when he appealed to her, told him, { } out of kindness, that his suspicions were unfounded. he remained dissatisfied however, and consulted the delphian oracle, by which he was told not to return home, or he must inevitably become the murderer of his father, and the husband of his mother. [illustration] as he travelled towards phocis, he met, in a narrow passage, laius, his father, in a chariot with his arm bearer. laius insolently ordered the youth to move out of his way, which oedipus, not knowing him, and irritated at his tone and language, refused. a conflict ensued, and laius with his companion was slain. ----------------------"'his demeanour bold, imperative, and arrogant: from far he waved his hand, that i should quit the path. most narrow was the place, and scarce allowed to one, free passage. i was incensed at his deportment, free myself by birth, hence i advanced with an undaunted step: he, with a terrible accent, cried, "make way." i, on the other hand, exclaimed with rage, returned his menace, and bade him retire. already had we met: he from his side, unsheathed a dagger, and upon me leap'd. { } i had no dagger, but i lacked not courage. me he assailed. i combated his onset, grasp'd him, and in less time than i relate it; flung him upon the earth: in vain he strove; when to the contest he perceived himself inadequate, insidiously he feigned terms of submission: i consented to them: quitted my grasp, when treacherously a blow, such as thou sees't here, he aimed at me, and pierced my clothes. the weapon grazed my flesh the wound is slight, but boundless was my rage. blind with revenge i snatched the dagger from him, and weltering in his blood he lay transfixed.'" alfieri. ignorant of the rank of the man he had killed, he continued his way to thebes, attracted thither by the noise which had been vented about of the sphynx, a frightful monster then laying waste the country around thebes, and devouring all who could not expound the enigma it proposed, which was--"what animal in the morning walks upon four legs, in the afternoon upon two, and in the evening upon three legs." the answer of oedipus was "that in infancy man goes upon his hands and feet; in manhood he walks upright, and in old age with the assistance of a staff." enraged at this solution, the monster dashed its head against a rock, and delivered thebes from his unwelcome presence. the prediction, partly fulfilled, was now entirely brought to pass, for oedipus mounted the throne, and married jocasta, his mother, by whom he had two sons, polynice and eteocles, and two daughters, ismene and antigone. some years after, a plague visited his territories, and the oracle was consulted, which stated that it would only cease when the murderer of king laius was banished from the country. the slayer of this king had never been discovered, and the whole of thebes was in violent excitement, anxious to discover the murderer, to avert the plague which raged; oedipus himself instituted all possible inquiry, resolved to overcome every difficulty. what was his sorrow at learning as the result of his unwearied zeal, that he himself was the unhappy parricide, and still more, that he was the husband of his own mother. _oedipus._ "'why speak you not according to my charge? bring forth the rack, since mildness cannot win you torment shall force. _phorbas._ hold, hold, oh! dreadful sir, you will not rack an innocent man. { } _oed._ speak, then. _phor._ alas! what would you have me say? _oed._ did this old man take from your arms an infant? _phor._ he did, and oh! i wish to all the gods, phorbas had perished in that very moment. _oed._ moment! thou shalt be hours, days, years undying, here, bind his hands, he dallies with my fury, but i shall find a way-- _phor._ by the gods, i do conjure you to enquire no more. _oed._ furies and hell! hæmon bring forth the rack, fetch hither cords and knives, and sulphurous flames. he shall be bound and gashed, his skin flead off and burned alive. _phor._ o spare my age. _oed._ who gave that infant to thee? _phor._ o wretched state! i die, unless i speak; and if i speak most certain death attends me. _oed._ thou shalt not die; speak then, who was it? speak, while i have sense to understand the horror, for i grow cold. _phor._ the queen, jocasta told me it was her son by laius. _oed._ o you gods--break, break not yet my heart, though my eyes burst, no matter, wilt thou tell me, or must i ask for ever? for what end? why gave she thee her child? _phor._ to murder it. _oed._ o more than savage! murder her own bowels without a cause. _phor._ there was a dreadful one which had foretold that most unhappy son should kill his father, and enjoy his mother. _oed._ 'tis well! i thank you gods! 'tis wondrous well! dagger and poison--o there is no need for my dispatch; and you, ye merciless powers, hoard up your thunder stones; keep, keep your bolts for crimes of little note. _adrastus._ help--and bow him gently forward, chafe, chafe his temples--he breathes again, and vigorous nature breaks through opposition. how fares my royal friend? _oed._ the worse for you. o barbarous men, and oh! the hated light, what did you force me back to curse the day, to curse my friends, to blast with this dark breath the yet untainted earth and circling air? to raise new plagues and call new vengeance down, why did you tempt the gods, and dare to touch me? methinks there's not a hand that grasps thy hell, but should run up like flax, all blazing fire. stand from this spot, i wish you as my friends, and come not near me, lest the gaping earth swallow you too.'" sophocles. { } in the depth of his anguish he deprived himself of sight, as unworthy ever more to behold the light, and banished himself from thebes for the good of his country; or as many assert, he was banished from thence by his sons. he retired towards attica, led by his daughter antigone, and came to a place sacred to the furies. here the remembrance flashed across his mind, that he was to die in a place like this, that such had been the decree of the oracle, and that he was to become the great source of prosperity to the country in which his bones should be laid. he sent therefore to theseus, king of the place, to inform him, that on his arrival he would make known to him the resolution which he had made. theseus came, and found oedipus with his face covered by a black veil, a knife in one hand, and a vessel containing the blood of a sacrifice in the other. with a prophetic voice he exclaimed:-- [illustration] "lo! the immortal gods have called--the ground on which we stand, shall be my grave!" as he spoke, he walked without a guide to the appointed spot of earth, which in token of approval, opened, and received the victim to its bosom. the tomb of oedipus was near the areopagus in the age of { } pausanias, and some of the ancient poets have represented him in hell, as the place, which crimes like his, would seem to deserve. [illustration] * * * * * eteocles and polynice. from the unhappy union of oedipus with jocasta sprung eteocles and polynice; when they came to manhood an arrangement was made between them, by which it was agreed, that they should exercise the kingly authority for one year alternately. eteocles was the eldest, and took to himself the first period of government; but when his year had past, the throne had proved so agreeable, that he refused to keep his promise of abdicating. polynice disgusted at such conduct retired to argos, where adrastus, king of the place, gave him his daughter in marriage, and attempted to persuade eteocles into some feeling of justice; but not only did the latter persist in his conduct, but sought to slay the famous tydius, the ambassador of adrastus, who however escaped this danger with increased renown; and on his return to his king was appointed by him to join a numerous army, selected to trench against the walls of thebes; nor was this an ungrateful task to the warrior who had been so treacherously assaulted. { } --------------"frowning he speaks, and shakes the dark crest, streaming o'er his shaded helm in triple wave; whilst dreadful ring around the brazen bosses of his shield; he stands close to the river's margin, and with shouts demands the war, like an impatient steed, that pants upon the foaming curb." amphiaraus, who was famous for his knowledge of futurity, and a warrior of great renown: knew from his power of divination, that he was sure to perish if he accompanied the expedition, and therefore secreted himself so successfully, that his wife only, knew the the place of his concealment; she however consented to betray him, bribed by an offer of a bracelet of great worth from polynice, who was desirous of gaining so important an auxiliary. previous to amphiaraus quitting argos for thebes, he told his son alcmeon to slay his mother, if news of his death should reach him; and when alcmeon heard that his father's chariot had been swallowed by the earth, which opened to receive its victim, he sacrificed euriphyle to the vengeance of his dead sire. but so execrable a crime could not pass unpunished, and he was tortured by the furies until he retired to arcadia, where he married alphisibaus. to fill up the measure of his crimes, he repudiated her, and took for his spouse callirhoe. the brothers of his deserted wife however, assassinated him in revenge; and callirhoe in the extremity of her anguish, devoted her two sons in the presence of their dead father, to revenge his death. [illustration] her wishes were fulfilled, they slew the murderers of alcmeon, { } but to appease the gods, the fatal bracelet was sacrificed upon the altar of apollo. meanwhile the war beneath the the walls of thebes was conducted with fierce and vigorous bravery, by the chiefs who had assembled for its attack, until eteocles and polynice perceiving that the combat was unlikely soon to terminate, offered to finish the battle by a single combat, on which the crown should depend. --------------------"from the flying troops eteocles leaps forth in furious guise, and with a terrible accent he exclaims, 'to polynice.' with presumptuous rage, his steps he traces, and at last he finds him. 'thebans,' he cried, with a tremendous voice, 'thebans and argives, cease your guilty rage! ye have descended to the field of battle in our contention, prodigal of life ours is the strife, be ours the forfeiture. let us ourselves, to a conclusion bring this unjust waste of blood, within your presence, and on this field of death--and thou, whom i should call no more my brother, do thou spare the blood of thebes: thy hate, thy rage, thy sword, all, all, on me let fall, on me alone!' to speak and leap with fury to the charge were actions of one instant. drunk with blood, and fury, of his own life quite regardless, provided his antagonist he slew, eteocles upon his wretched brother falls with his sword, and all his strength collects. for a long time, intent to ward his blows stands polynice. but at length he cries 'i call to witness heaven and thebes thou will'st it!' while to heaven his eyes he raised, and thus exclaimed, his sword he onward thrust: the hovering furies guide the reckless blow to pierce the bosom of eteocles. he falls--upon his brother spouts his blood!" this unnatural combat was brief, though fierce, eteocles the king was the first who fell, and polynice regarding him with ill-disguised pleasure; and although the blood was flowing fast and free from his own mortal wounds, exclaimed: ----------------"'thou diest, and i am king, within these hands, red with a brother's blood, shall dwell the sceptre thou didst wrest from me. thy brow on which doth rest the same bright drop, shall bear the crown thou did'st usurp from me. and that thy soul may fly with more regret know traitor that thy last blow comes from me.'" racine. { } he approached the fallen monarch, and striking him once more with his sword, eteocles expired beneath the blow, while polynice himself exhausted with his efforts to subdue his pain, and the death struggle which tore his bosom, fell in the very act of striking him. their implacable hatred manifested itself even after death, for when their bodies were placed on the bier, their ashes refused to mingle, and the very flames separated as they arose in bright columns from the funeral pile. [illustration] * * * * * tantalus, pelops, atreus, and thyestes. tantalus, son of jupiter, reigned in phrygia. wishing to test the divinity of the gods who were visiting him, he murdered his son pelops, and served up to them his limbs, demanding of them to name what the new meat was. the faithless cruelty of tantalus was discovered, and the gods refused to touch the horrible repast, with the exception of ceres, who, thinking only on her lost proserpine, eat one of his shoulders, with her accustomed appetite. jupiter enraged at this atrocious conduct of tantalus, destroyed his palace with a thunderbolt, and ordered mercury to precipitate him to the bottom of hell. here he is represented as punished with an insatiable thirst, and placed up to the chin in the midst of a pool of water, that passes around, yet never touches his lips; while, above his head, hangs a bough, laden with delicious fruit, which, when his hand would grasp it, is borne away by a sudden blast of wind. { } pelops was restored to life by jupiter, and supplied with an ivory shoulder, in place of that which had been devoured by ceres, and to which was granted the power of healing, by its touch, every complaint. he succeeded to the throne of his father, and maintained the war against the king of troy for a long time, but was at last forced to leave phrygia and seek a retreat in pisa, where he married hippodamia, the daughter of the king, that monarch having declared that she should only wed the man who would run on foot as fast as he could proceed in his chariot. this difficulty was overcome by pelops, who bribed the charioteer to give his master an old chariot which broke down in the middle of the course, and killed oenomaus; and when the charioteer would have claimed the reward of his infamy, he threw him into the sea, under pretext of punishing his negligence. [illustration] thus master of the kingdom of pisa, and the hand of hippodamia, he made bold war upon his neighbour, and conquered their land, which he named peloponnessus, or the isle of pelops. in the family of the pelopides murder and assassination seem never to have ceased their fearful course. atreus and thyestes, the sons of pelops, having been counselled by hippodamia to kill { } chrysippus, who was an illegitimate son of pelops, they refused to obey, which so exasperated her, that she stabbed the child with her own hands. [illustration] pelops, suspecting his two sons of the crime, banished them from his court. atreus sought the kingdom of eurystheus, king of argos, and succeeded him on his throne, after marrying his daughter. here he treated his brother thyestes, who had followed him to the court, with great kindness, but he was recompensed with ingratitude, for his brother succeeded in winning the affections of his wife. irritated at so unlooked for a crime, atreus took a fearful vengeance. having been banished from the city for some time, thyestes was again recalled, and invited to a sumptuous feast, at which was served up the children born to him by the connexion with his brother's wife, all of whom had been sacrificed to his vengeance. when the repast was over he showed to him the heads of the { } children, a sight which struck thyestes with horror. the deed was so cruel and impious, that the very sun is said to have started back in amazement; and the unhappy thyestes slew himself with his sword. [illustration] there was now one son left, named egisthus, who, himself the fruit of a great crime, had been brought up by agamemnon, and to him did the spectre of thyestes appear, to exhort him to revenge upon his brother the cruel act he had performed; nor were the fates satisfied until the deed had been accomplished, which revenged upon atreus the infamous and atrocious conduct at which the very sun itself had started. "asked by his wife to his inhuman feast, tereus, unknowingly, is made a guest: while she, her plot the better to disguise styles it some unknown mystic sacrifice: and such the nature of the hallowed rite, the wife her husband only could invite, the slaves must all withdraw, and be debarred the sight. tereus on a throne of antique state, loftily raised, before the banquet sate; and, glutton-like, luxuriously pleased with his own flesh, his hungry maw appeased. nay, such a blindness o'er his senses falls, that he for itys to the table calls. when procne, now impatient to disclose the joy that from her full revenge arose, cries out, in transports of a cruel mind, 'within yourself, your itys you may find.' { } still at this puzzling answer with surprise, around the room he winds his curious eyes; and, as he still enquired, and called aloud; fierce philomela, all besmeared with blood, her hand with murder stained, her spreading hair hanging dishevelled, with a ghastly air, stepped forth, and flung full in the tyrant's face the head of itys, gory as it was: nor ever longed so much to use her tongue, and, with a just reproach, to vindicate her wrong. the thracian monarch from the table flings while with his cries the vaulted parlour rings; his imprecations echo down to hell, and rouse the snaky furies from their stygian cell. one while, he labours to disgorge his breast, and free his stomach from the cursed feast; then, weeping o'er his lamentable doom, he styles himself his son's sepulchral tomb, now, with drawn sabre, and impetuous speed, in close pursuit he drives pandion's breed; whose nimble feet spring with so swift a force across the fields, they seem to wing their course: and now, on real wings themselves they raise, and steer their airy flight by different ways: one to the woodland's shady covert hies, around the smoky roof the other flies; whose feathers yet the marks of murder stain, where, stampt upon her breast, the crimson spots remain. tereus, through grief, and haste to be revenged, shares the like fate, and to a bird is changed: fixed on his head, the crested plumes appear; long is his beak, and sharpened like a spear; thus armed, his looks his inward mind display, and, to a lapwing turned, he fans his way." ovid. [illustration] { } agamemnon and menelaus. [illustration] agamemnon and menelaus were educated with atreus, until banished the kingdom by thyestes, they went to calydonia, and they were treated with great kindness, and from thence to sparta, where, like the remainder of the greek princes, they sought the hand of helen. by the advice and artifice of ulysses, menelaus became her husband, agamemnon marrying clytemnestra; and tyndarus, their father, monarch of sparta, assisted in recovering for them their father's kingdom. menelaus succeeded to his father in law's throne, and became king of sparta, and paris, son of priam, king of troy, was one of the numerous visitors at his court. to this prince venus had promised the possession of the finest woman in greece. the absence of menelaus in crete gave to paris every opportunity, and he succeeded in corrupting the fidelity of helen, who abandoned herself to her seducer, and followed him to his palace at troy. vainly were ambassadors sent to priam, to make known to him the infamous conduct of his son. not only did he refuse all reparation, but he embittered the interview by recalling all the ancient grievances of the two kingdoms. this unjust conduct gave birth to a terrible war; agamemnon embraced the cause of his brother with fervour, awoke all greece { } to the wrongs of menelaus, and was proclaimed the chief of the kings, who united their armies beneath the walls of argos; and showed his personal zeal by furnishing one hundred ships, and lending sixty more for her assistance. the greek army amounted to sixty thousand soldiers, and their fleet to twelve hundred vessels, but at the very moment that they reckoned on starting, a deep calm settled on the waters. the oracle was consulted, which declared that nothing less than the sacrifice of iphigenia, the daughter of agamemnon, could suffice, as the latter had excited the wrath of diana, by killing a favourite stag. the father heard the decree with the greatest horror and indignation, and, as chief of the forces, ordered his herald to command them all to retire to their separate homes. ulysses and the other generals interfered; and at last agamemnon was persuaded to sacrifice a daughter so tenderly beloved but as she was a great favourite with clytemnestra, her mother, the greeks sent for iphigenia, pretending that they sought her hand in marriage for achills. [illustration] clytemnestra gladly gave her consent; but when they came to aulis, iphigenia saw the bloody preparation for her sacrifice. in vain did she implore the protection of her father: tears and entreaties were alike unavailing, but as the fatal blow was about to be struck, a goat of great beauty was found in her place for the { } sacrifice. the supernatural change animated the greeks, the wind suddenly became favourable, and the combined fleet set sail. "fair iphigenia, the devoted maid, was by the weeping priests in linen robes arrayed, all mourn her fate; but no relief appeared: the royal victim bound, the knife already reared when that offended power who caused their woe, relenting, ceased her wrath, and stopped the coming blow. a mist before the ministers she cast, and in the virgin's room a hind she placed." after the fall of troy the beautiful cassandra came to the share of agamemnon, and she foretold that his wife clytemnestra would put him to death. he, however, returned with cassandra to argos, where the sad prediction was fulfilled. one day as he came from the bath, clytemnestra gave him a tunic, the sleeves of which were sewn together, and as he was embarrassed with the folds, she brought him to the ground with the stroke of a hatchet, while egisthus, with whom she had dishonoured herself during agamemnon's absence, gave him the finishing blow. "_clytemnestra._ what have i done?-- where am i? _egisthus._ hast thou slain the tyrant? now at length thou art worthy of me. _cly._ see with blood the dagger drops:--my hands--my face--my garment, all, all are blood. ah! for a deed like this what vengeance shall be wreaked? i see already, already to my breast that very sword i see hurled back--and by what hand! i freeze, i faint, i shudder, i dissolve with horror! my strength, my utterance fail me. where am i, what have i done? alas! _egis._ tremendous cries resound on every side throughout the palace. _cly._ he had no power to escape, or to resist, entangled in the gorgeous robe that shone fatally rich. i struck him twice, and twice he groaned, then died. a third time as he lay i gored him with a wound; a grateful present to the stern god that in the realms below reigns o'er the dead. there let him take his seat, he lay, and spouting from his wounds a stream of blood, bedewed me with these crimson drops." �schylus. the tradition of the meeting of iphigenia with her father in the lower regions, after his death, when the latter was ignorant of the { } infamy of her mother, and the cause of her father's death, is thus beautifully described:-- "_iphigenia._ father! i now may lean upon your breast, and you with unreverted eyes will grasp iphigenia's hand. we are not shades surely! for yours throbs yet, and did my blood win troy for greece? ah! 'twas ill done to shrink; but the sword gleamed so sharp; and the good priest trembled, and pallas frowned above, severe. _agamemnon._ daughter! _iphig._ beloved father! is the blade again to pierce a bosom now unfit for sacrifice? no blood is in its veins, no god requires it here; here are no wrongs to vindicate, no realms to overthrow. you standing as at aulis in the fane, with face averted, holding (as before) my hand; but yours burns not, as then it burned. this alone shews me we are with the blest, nor subject to the sufferings we have borne. i will win back past kindness. tell me then, tell how my mother fares who loved me so, and grieved, as 'twere for you, to see me part. frown not, but pardon me for tarrying amid too idle words, nor asking how she praised us both (which most?) for what we did. _aga._ ye gods who govern here! do human pangs reach the pure soul thus far below? do tears spring in these meadows? _iphig._ no, sweet father, no. i could have answered that; why ask the gods? _aga._ iphigenia! o my child! the earth has gendered crimes unheard of heretofore, and nature may have changed in her last depths, together with the gods and all their laws. _iphig._ father! we must not let you here condemn; not, were the day less joyful: recollect we have no wicked here; no king to judge. poseidon, we have heard, with bitter rage lashes his foaming steeds against the skies, and, laughing with loud yell at winged fire, innoxious to his fields and palaces affrights the eagle from the sceptred hand; while pluto, gentlest brother of the three and happiest in obedience, views sedate his tranquil realm, nor envies their's above. no change have we, not even day for night, nor spring for summer, all things are serene, serene too be your spirit! none on earth { } ever was half so kindly in his house, and so compliant, even to a child. never was snatched your robe away from me, though going to the council. the blind man knew his good king was leading him in doors, before he heard the voice that marshal'd greece. therefore all praised you. proudest men themselves in others praise humility, and most admire it in the sceptre and the sword. what then can make you speak thus rapidly and briefly? in your step thus hesitate? are you afraid to meet among the good incestuous helen here? _aga._ oh! gods of hell! _iphig._ she hath not past the river. we may walk with our hands linked, nor feel our house's shame. _aga._ never may'st thou, iphigenia! feel it! aulis had no sharp sword, thou would'st exclaim, greece no avenger--i, her chief so late, through erebus, through elysium, writhe beneath it. _iphig._ come, i have better diadems than those of argos and mycenai--come away, and i will weave them for you on the bank. you will not look so pale when you have walked a little in the grove, and have told all those sweet fond words the widow sent her child. _aga._ oh earth! i suffered less upon thy shores! (_aside_) the bath that bubbled with my blood, the blows that spilt it (o worse torture) must she know? ah! the first woman coming from mycenai will pine to pour this poison in her ear, taunting sad charon for his slow advance. iphigenia! _iphig._ why thus turn away? calling me with such fondness! i am here, father! and where you are, will ever be. _aga._ thou art my child--yes, yes, thou art my child. all was not once what all now is! come on, idol of love and truth! my child! my child! (_alone_) fell woman! ever false! false was thy last denunciation, as thy bridal vow; and yet even that found faith with me! the dirk which severed flesh from flesh, where this hand rests, severs not, as thou boasted'st in thy scoffs, iphigenia's love from agamemnon: the wife's a spark may light, a straw consume, the daughter's not her hearts whole fount hath quenched, 'tis worthy of the gods, and lives for ever. _iphig._ what spake my father to the gods above? unworthy am i then to join in prayer? if, on the last, or any day before, { } of my brief course on earth, i did amiss, say it at once, and let me be unblest; but, o my faultless father! why should you? and shun so my embraces? am i wild and wandering in my fondness? we are shades!! groan not thus deeply; blight not thus the season of full orbed gladness! shades we are indeed, but mingled, let us feel it, with the blest. i knew it, but forgot it suddenly, altho' i felt it all at your approach. look on me; smile with me at my illusion-- you are so like what you have ever been (except in sorrow!) i might well forget i could not win you as i used to do. it was the first embrace since my descent i ever aimed at: those who love me live, save one, who loves me most, and now would chide me. _aga._ we want not o iphigenia, we want not embrace, nor kiss that cools the heart with purity, nor words that more and more teach what we know, from those we know, and sink often most deeply where they fall most light. time was when for the faintest breath of thine kingdom and life were little. _iphig._ value them as little now. _aga._ were life and kingdom all! _iphig._ ah! by our death many are sad who loved us. they will be happy too. cheer! king of men! cheer! there are voices, songs--cheer! arms advance. _aga._ come to me, soul of peace! these, these alone, these are not false embraces." w. s. landor. * * * * * the trojan war. the sails were spread, and the vessels destined to the attack of troy advanced quickly towards its shores. priam and his brave sons though they received the enemy with vigour, could not prevent them from landing, and the siege commenced by a blockade, which lasted for the space of nine years, and might have lasted much longer, as more than valour was necessary to take the city; for destiny had dictated the conditions to be fulfilled, ere its capture could be accomplished. an ancient oracle had foretold that among the besiegers must be one of the descendants of eachus, who had worked on the wall of { } of ilion, and achilles, son of thetis, considered eachus as his ancestor. this young hero had been hidden by his frightened mother in the isle of cyros. clothed in female garments, he there lived with the beautiful deidomia, and enslaved by love, forgot over the cradle of his offspring, the glory of his country, and the precepts of his tutor, chiron, the centaur. but it was necessary that he should be discovered; and that he should be animated with higher thoughts and more exalted sentiments. ulysses, king of ithaca, took upon himself the charge of bringing the young achilles from his inglorious ease to the post which awaited him in the camp. disguised as a merchant, ulysses introduced himself into the palace of the future hero, and as he paraded himself before the women with jewels and arms, one of them disdained the gems, and seized a sword!--it was achilles!--who thus betrayed his manly inclinations. [illustration] thus discovered, the eloquence of ulysses was exerted, and the youthful hero listened with astonishment to the king of ithaca, as he told him of the dangers already overcome, and of the future conquests which awaited him. ulysses departed, but not alone, for the spirit of glory was aroused in achilles, and one more defender was added to the cause of menelaus. but the besiegers were also to possess the arrows of hercules, which this hero in dying had bequeathed to philoctetes, who, however, would not give up the terrible arms that no mortal dared take from him. ulysses presented himself to philoctetes, who, at the command of the manes of hercules, sought the grecian camp with his terrible weapons to assist them against their enemies. [illustration: pyrrha seizing the sword before achilles.] { } but this was not enough. it was necessary to take from the trojans the talismanic protector of their city, the palladium. ulysses was also charged with this mission, and the intrepid diomedes assisted him to triumph over the obstacles which would have resisted his single efforts, and they went forth to seek the statue of pallas, in the very city of their intrepid foes. it was necessary likewise that rhesus, king of thrace, should be prevented from allowing his horses to drink of the waters of the xanthus, an ancient oracle having declared that if they drank of those waters or fed in the trojan plain, that troy would never be taken. in this too they succeeded; for diomedes and ulysses intercepted him on his journey to the trojan camp, entered his tent at night and slew him; they then carried off the horses which had been the innocent causes of his melancholy fate. all the oracles being now fulfilled, the siege was commenced with vigour, when an unforeseen quarrel stopped the operations of the greeks. achilles having been deprived by agamemnon of his favourite mistress, retired into his tent. reverses of fortune instantly signalised his absence. a general assault, however, was ordered, but directly the army displayed itself before the walls, paris challenged menelaus to single combat, and promised to return helen if he was vanquished. the king of sparta, protected by his bravery and the justice of his cause, accepted his challenge, and would have sacrificed the coward trojan to his vengeance, when he took flight, and escaped by the aid of venus. --------"poised in air, the javelin sent, through paris' shield the fearful weapon went, his corslet pierces, and his garment rends, and, glancing downward, near his flank descends. the wary trojan, bending from the blow, eludes the death, and disappoints his foe: but fierce atrides waved his sword, and struck full on his casque, the crested helmet shook: the brittle steel, unfaithful to his hand, broke short, the fragments glittered on the sand. the raging warrior to the spacious skies raised his upbraiding voice and angry eyes. 'then is it vain in jove himself to trust? and is it thus the gods assist the just? when crimes provoke us, heaven success denies, the dart falls harmless, and the falchion flies.' { } furious he said, and tow'rd the grecian crew seized by the crest, th' unhappy warrior drew; struggling he followed, while th' embroidered throng, that tied his helmet dragged the chief along. then had his ruin crowned atrides' joy, but venus trembled for the prince of troy; unseen she came, and burst the golden band, and left an empty helmet in his hand." homer. the greeks claimed the execution of the promise, and in return a trojan archer sent an arrow which wounded agamemnon. a general melée ensued, the formidable diomedes dashed into the midst of the trojans, wounded venus, who protected paris, and struck mars himself; and hector, the brave son of priam was compelled to retire, exhorting the trojans to supplicate pallas to withdraw diomedes from the combat. after this bloody action, in which the gods themselves had taken part, the two armies engaged in several skirmishes without much advantage on either side. the siege still continued, and the anger of achilles remained, until his revenge was aroused by the death of patroclus, his friend, who was slain in battle by hector. "thus by an arm divine and mortal spear wounded at once, patroclus yields to fear, retires for succour to his social train, and flies the fate which heaven decreed, in vain. stern hector as the bleeding chief he views, breaks through the ranks, and his retreat pursues: the lance arrests him with a mortal wound; he falls, earth shudders, and his arms resound. with him all greece was sunk, that moment all her yet surviving heroes seemed to fall. patroclus thus, so many chiefs o'erthrown, so many lives effused, expires his own." homer. to avenge the death of his comrade in arms, achilles conducted the greeks to the attack. the gods again mingled in the fight. hector and achilles met in fierce combat, and the first fell gloriously. the son of peleus refused to the trojans the last and only consolation of thinking that the remains should be given to the aged priam. he had the cruelty to tie the body to his chariot, and in that way to drag it three times round the city, a sacrifice to the tomb of patroclus, and the unfortunate priam was obliged to give a large ransom for the remains of hector. { } "then his fell soul a thought of vengeance bred, unworthy of himself and of the dead, the nervous ancles bored, his feet he bound with thongs inserted through the double wound; these fixed up high behind the rolling wain, his graceful head was hauled along the plain. proud on his car th' insulting victor stood, and bore aloft his arms distilling blood. he smites the steeds, the rapid chariot flies; the sudden clouds of circling dust arise. now lost is all that formidable air, the face divine and long descending hair, purple the ground, and streak the sable sand; deformed, dishonoured, in his native land, given to the rage of an insulting throng, and in his parents sight now dragged along. the mother first beheld with sad survey, she rent her tresses venerably gray: and cast far off the regal veils away. with piercing shriek his bitter fate she moans, while the sad father answers groans with groans; tears after tears his mournful cheeks o'erflow, and the whole city wears one face of woe." homer. after this barbarous act, achilles, led by destiny, obtained sight of polyxena, the daughter of priam, in the temple of apollo. [illustration] availing himself of treachery, paris basely slew him by shooting him in the heel, the only part not rendered invulnerable, by being washed in the river styx. when achilles died, the greeks erected a superb tomb to his memory upon the shores of the hellespont, and after the taking of troy, polyxena was sacrificed to the manes of achilles. so glorious had been his arms, that ajax and ulysses disputed for them, and they were given to the king of ithaca { } which so enraged ajax that he slew himself, and the blood which flowed from him was turned into a hyacinth. �neas, son of venus and anchises, took part in all the battles which preceded the fall of his country, and relates the stratagem by which the greeks gained possession of the city. repulsed in many assaults, they constructed an enormous horse of wood, and shut up in it the best and bravest of their soldiers. then pretending to raise the siege, they left it, and embarked, casting anchor near the isle of tenedos. the trojans, happy to see their sails retreating from their shores, left their walls to look at the immense machine which remained behind. some proposed to destroy it. the most superstitious demanded on the contrary, that it should be conducted to the city, and offered to minerva. laocoon, grand priest of neptune, in the spirit of prophecy, told them to destroy it, and to doubt the gift of an enemy. vainly he cried, "fear the greeks and their gifts!" they would not listen to him. at this moment a greek named sinon was brought before them. this perfidious man said that his brothers in arms, irritated against him, had abandoned him, and that this horse was an offering made by the greeks, to moderate the anger of minerva, and to obtain from her a happy return. in vain did laocoon persist in his assertion that danger was near, and in vain was he commissioned by the trojans to offer a bullock to neptune, to render him propitious. [illustration] during the sacrifice, two enormous serpents issued from the sea, and attacked laocoon's two sons, who stood next to the altar. the father immediately attempted to defend them, but the serpents coiling round him, squeezed him in their complicated wreaths, so that he died in the greatest torture. [illustration: the anger of priam.] { } --------"by scamander when laocoon stood, where troy's proud turrets glittered in the flood, raised high his arm and with prophetic call to shrinking realms announced her fated fall; whirled his fierce spear with more than mortal force, and pierced the thick ribs of the echoing horse; two serpent forms incumbent on the main lashing the white waves with their redundant train, arched their blue necks, and shook their towering crests, and ploughed their foamy way with speckled breasts; then, darting fierce amid the affrighted throngs, rolled their red eyes, and shot their forked tongues.-- --two daring youths to guard the hoary sire, thwart their dread progress, and provoke their ire, round sire and sons the scaly monsters rolled, ring above ring in many a tangled fold, close and more close their writhing limbs surround, and fix with foamy teeth the envenomed wound. with brow upturned to heaven the holy sage in silent agony sustains their rage; while each fond youth, in vain, with piercing cries bends on the tortured sire his dying eyes." darwin. "laocoon's torture, dignifying pain-- a father's love and mortal's agony with an immortal's patience blending:--vain the struggle; vain, against the coiling strain and gripe, and deepening of the dragon's grasp, the old man's clench; the long envenomed chain rivets the living links,--the enormous asp enforces pang on pang and stifles gasp on gasp." byron. the trojans following the advice of sinon, beat down part of the wall to make an entrance for the horse into the city; they then celebrated the deliverance of their country with feasts and festivals. aided by the darkness of night the greek ships left tenedos and set sail with all haste towards troy. their soldiers disembarked, and penetrated through the breach which had been made to admit the horse. at the same time the warriors that were hidden within the colossal structure appeared, spreading slaughter and devastation all over the city. �neas awoke, put on his arms, and ran to the palace of priam, in time to see, but not to save, the aged monarch, his daughters, and his sons, from falling beneath the edge of the sword. he then sought to rally the trojans, and make head against the { } enemy, but when he abandoned himself to feelings of grief and rage at not being able, his mother made known to him the uselessness of his efforts. [illustration] �neas followed the council of venus. he awoke his father anchises, placed the old man on his shoulders, took the young ascanius, his son, by the hand, and led him away from the tumult, giving him in charge to creusa, his wife, telling her to follow closely, and not to leave him. the unfortunate woman, however, lost sight of him, and was put to death by the greeks. after a vain search to find creusa, the hero joined the trojans that survived, and all retired to mount ida, where they constructed a fleet of twenty vessels, in which they set sail, endeavouring to find out a new country. the conquerors razed troy to the ground, and divided the plunder. the widows and daughters of the trojan princes who were left behind, were obliged to remain in the country. several of them, famed for beauty, inspired their masters with passions which manifested themselves in quarrels, finishing by many a bloody catastrophe. among this number was andromache, widow of hector, and mother of astyanax. she fell to the share of { } neoptolemus, but though she conceived an aversion for him, the widow of hector promised her hand to him, on condition that he would save the life of her son, which was menaced by the greeks: and accompanied into epirus the ambassadors sent to claim from pyrrhus the last scion of a foeman's race; orestes, the ambassador, explained to the king the object of his mission, he was met by a stern refusal, which so irritated the warrior, that he stabbed pyrrhus for attempting that which he designated a base treason. [illustration] following the fortunes of ulysses--scarcely had he quitted the phrygian shores, than he and his companions became the sport of neptune and juno, and a crowd of miseries beset them. at length, after a thousand reverses on the seas, a tempest precipitated his vessel on a rock, he saved himself on a floating wreck, and was driven by the waves towards the shores of the isle of the phæacians. he saw on the shores the beautiful nausica, who took him to king alcinous, her father, from whom he received every hospitality. at the end of the repast to which he had been invited, he related his wonderful adventures. he told of his arrival in the country of the lotophagi, people who lived on lotos, and of the frightful dangers he encountered in the isle of cyclops. "the land of cyclops first, a savage kind, nor tamed by manner, nor by laws confined: untaught to plant, to turn the glebe and sow; they all their products to free nature owe. the soil untill'd a ready harvest yields, with wheat and barley wave the golden fields, { } spontaneous wines from weighty clusters pour, and jove descends in each prolific shower. by these no statutes and no rights are known, no council held, no monarch fills the throne. but high on hills, or airy cliffs, they dwell, or deep in caves whose entrance leads to hell. each rules his race, his neighbour not his care, heedless of others, to his own severe." homer. polyphemus, whose one eye expressed a savage ferocity, shut up ulysses and his companions in a cavern, where he kept his sheep. in the morning polyphemus came, took two sailors and devoured them; at his repast in the evening he took two more. ulysses, horrified at his danger, thought how he could avoid it. he amused the cyclop by his recitals; and by giving him intoxicating drink, the monster slept; then, assisted by his companions, he put out his eye. ulysses had provided for their escape, for fastening himself under the stomach of a sheep when it was going to the fields, and ordering his companions to follow his example, they escaped the rage of the cyclop, who could only indulge his wrath by throwing at random large pieces of rock after their vessel, which was bearing them quickly away from the scene of their danger. [illustration] he arrived in the isle of �olia, where reigned �olus, king of the winds. this monarch treated him with much kindness, and to assure him a prosperous voyage, he gave him, enclosed in a leather bottle, all the dangerous winds. the vessels went first to the { } borders of ithaca, when the companions of ulysses opened the leather bottle, believing that a precious wine was contained in it, all the winds escaped, and a furious tempest convulsed the sea. the vessels were thrown upon the coast of the lestrigones, who ate human flesh. two greeks were devoured by them. in alarm the vessels again put to sea, and they landed in an isle where abode circe, a famous magician. when he had anchored, he sent some of his men on shore, to discover what place it was, but circe gave them drink under pretence of refreshing them, which transformed them into swine. one only tasted not of the enchanted drink, and escaped to acquaint ulysses with the strange metamorphose. ulysses was astonished and resolved to seek the witch in person: and, provided with a certain herb, to preserve himself from witchcraft, he went to her with his drawn sword, to compel her to restore his companions to their previous shapes. the fascinations of circe proved more powerful than the sword of ulysses, and he staid with her on the island, in the enjoyment of her society, for the space of a year. after concluding his eventful history, he remained some time with alcinous, who gave him a ship, which carried him safely to ithaca. it was now the twentieth year of the absence of ulysses from his home, during which time his wife had held him in continual remembrance, and though she had been pressed by her numerous suitors to consider him as dead and make a second choice, yet she retained such faithful love for her husband, with such a full and prophetic assurance that she should once more see him, that all their efforts to influence her were vain. in order to put them off more effectually, she undertook to make a piece of cloth, promising that when it was finished, she would choose one of her numerous suitors: but the better to deceive them, she undid at night that which she worked in the day, so that when ulysses arrived, she was no nearer its completion than at first. meanwhile ulysses scarcely knew how to discover himself with safety to his own person, fearing that he might be slain by those who were suitors to his wife. by the advice of minerva, he disguised himself as a beggar, first making himself known to telemachus, and one of the old officers of the kingdom. in the same disguise he introduced himself to penelope, by whom { } he was received with joy; and with the assistance of his friends, who flocked around him, he entered in possession of his throne. [illustration] but still his mind was uneasy and disturbed, as tyresias, the soothsayer, had informed him that he should be killed by one of his sons. to prevent this misery, he determined to forsake the world, and retire into some solitary place, to end his days in peace. about that time, telegonus, one of his sons by circe, came to his city to pay unto him his respects; and, as he was striving to enter the palace, there arose a great tumult, the officers of the place refusing him admission; at this moment ulysses stepped out, and telegonus not knowing him, ran him through with his lance, thus fulfilling the prophecy of the soothsayer. * * * * * �neas. charged to save himself from the wreck of troy, and to accomplish the decrees of fate, �neas embarked with a small band in twenty vessels, which juno however pursued with her wrath. �olus obedient to the goddess, dispersed the fleet and menaced them with complete destruction. neptune appeared, and the winds were silent. �neas, however, found himself separated from the greater part of his companions, seven only of whom remained with him. he landed on an unknown shore and venus informed him, that { } the rest of his companions were in safety. �neas, hidden in a cloud went to the palace of dido, queen of carthage, a new town in which this queen had built the most gorgeous edifices; in one of which, where she gave to him a splendid entertainment, the hero related to her the history of the siege of troy and his own adventures. the glowing language and animating gestures of the young prince, together with the high deeds which he announced, won the heart of dido. nor was �neas long in perceiving the love felt for him by the beautiful listener, and yielding himself to her charms, staid with her for a considerable time in the enjoyment of all that renders life desirable. jupiter, however, grew dissatisfied with �neas, despatched mercury to him to command him to leave africa, to try the destiny which called him to italy. in vain dido endeavoured to stop him, she saw in �neas a man resolved to leave her, and she loaded him with the curses and reproaches of an infuriated and forsaken lover. [illustration] unable to bear life in the prospect of a desertion so infamous, she prepared a funeral pile, determined to immolate herself; mounting with a calm resolution she gave way to her despair. { } "what shall i do? what succour can i find? shall i with this ungrateful trojan go, forsake an empire to attend a foe? himself i refuged and his train relieved, 'tis true, but am i sure to be received? can gratitude in trojan souls have place? laomedon still lives in all his race! then shall i seek alone the flying crew, or with my fleet their flying souls pursue? rather with steel thy guilty breast invade, and take the fortune thou thyself hast made!" dryden. with one strong blow she smote herself to the heart, and fell dead upon the pile she had erected. [illustration] "then swiftly to the fatal place she passed, and mounts the funeral pile with furious haste; unsheathes the sword the trojan left behind, not for so dire an enterprize designed; but when she viewed the garb so loosely spread, which once he wore, and saw the conscious bed, she saw and with a sigh the robes embraced, then on the couch her trembling body cast, repressed the ready tears and spoke her last; 'dear pledges of my love, while heaven so pleased, receive a soul of mortal anguish eased. my fatal course is finished, and i go, a glorious name among the ghosts below,' { } then kissed the couch 'and must i die,' she said, 'and unrevenged, 'tis doubly to be dead; yet even this death with pleasure i receive, on any terms 'tis better than to live; these flames from far, may the false trojan view, these boding omens, his false flight pursue!' she said and struck; deep entered in her side, the piercing steel, with reeking purple dyed, clogged in the wound, the cruel weapon stands; the spouting blood came streaming on her hands; her sad attendants saw the deadly stroke and with loud cries, the sounding palace shook. thrice dido tried to raise her drooping head, and, panting, thrice fell grovelling on the bed. thrice ope'd her heavy eyes, and saw the light, but having found it, sickened at the sight, and closed her lids at last in endless night." dryden. * * * * * allegorical divinities. [illustration] the ancients, following the inspirations of an undisciplined imagination, deified alike virtues, vices, and evil principles. these divinities, the number of whom was constantly increasing, had both altars and temples consecrated to them: and from this kind of god, poets, painters, and sculptors have taken ideas, and have blended the deity and the virtue in beautiful unison, giving to them new and delightful charms. virtue daughter of truth, is represented clothed in white, as an emblem of purity; sometimes holding a sceptre, at others crowned with { } laurel; while she is in many instances drawn with wings, and placed upon a block of marble, to intimate her immoveable firmness. truth daughter of jupiter and saturn, is the parent of justice and of virtue. the great apelles has represented her, in his painting of calumny, under the appearance of a modest female; in her hand is placed a round mirror. ancient writers say, that she was for a long time hidden from the world at the bottom of a well, but leaving its quiet on one occasion, she was scared at the reception she met with, and returned to her hiding place, which is intended to intimate, according to democritus, the difficulty with which she is discovered. honour. the emblems of this god are, the crown of laurel, the lance, and the horn of plenty; though he is sometimes represented, instead of arms, with the olive branch of peace, as the reward of bravery. at rome he had two temples; one founded by marcellus, at the same time with the one to virtue. an augur having warned marcellus that these two divinities would not dwell in the circumference of the same temple, he built the two distinct edifices to which we have alluded; but, to arrive at the temple of honour, it was necessary to pass through that of virtue. peace. this daughter of jupiter and themis, wears a crown of laurel; in her hand is a branch of the olive-tree, and against her side the statue of plutus, to intimate that peace gives rise to prosperity and opulence. venus and the graces were her companions, and an altar was erected to her at athens; but at rome, the capital in which the god of war was also peculiarly honoured, several altars were dedicated to her, one of the most magnificent of which was raised by vespasian, after the war of judea, and contained all the treasures taken from the temple at jerusalem, consisting of a splendid library, busts, statues and pictures; with an enormous quantity of natural curiosities. this temple was however consumed in the reign of commodus, previous to which it was customary for men of learning to assemble { } there, and even to deposit their most valuable writings as a place of peculiar safety; and, consequently the loss which took place when it was consumed, could scarcely be estimated. [illustration] fidelity was adored even before romulus and numa had given laws to their people; and the oath sworn in her name was regarded by them as inviolable. she is represented clothed in white, with clasped hands. her priests were dressed in a white cloth during her public ceremonies; but victims were not sacrificed upon her altar, because she was deemed inflexible, and could not yield to prayers, however urgent. two hands, joined together, are the emblems of faith, given and received. friendship the greeks represented clothed in a clasped garment, her head bare, her bosom revealed near the heart, holding in the left hand an elm, around which a vine, filled with grapes, is clinging. at rome, she was a young maiden with a white robe, her bosom half bare, her head adorned with myrtle and pomegranate flowers intermixed. on the border of her tunic was written "death and life,"--on her front "summer and winter."--her side was opened, and the heart visible, bearing these words, "far and near." { } liberty wears sometimes a cap, with a rod in her hand, both signs of independence, as the latter was used by the magistrates in the manumission of slaves, and the cap was worn by those who were to be soon liberated, while at other times she appears in a chariot. she is, however, more frequently represented holding the book of the laws, and in her hand a sword with which to defend them. [illustration] a temple was raised to her by gracchus on mount aventine, adorned with elegant statues and brazen columns, with a gallery in which were deposited the public acts of the state. victory. styx, daughter of ocean and thetis, was the mother of victory. this deity attended at the conquests of all countries and of all heroes. at italy and greece, temples were elevated to her; at greece she was named nice, and sylla instituted festivals in her honour at the former place. in the temple of jupiter, on the capitoline hill, a golden statue of the goddess was placed, weighing three hundred and twenty pounds. a thunderbolt having fallen on the statue and broken its wings, pompey restored the courage of the people, who were dejected at the accident, by crying, "romans! the gods have broken the wings of victory; henceforth she cannot escape from us." { } victory, by the commands of her mother, aided jupiter in his battle with the titans; and the monarch of olympus to reward her powerful services, decreed that the gods should swear by her, and that those who violated the oath, should be exiled ten years from the celestial court, and deprived of the nectar and ambrosia of olympus. voluptuousness is a female figure, nearly naked, her hair wreathed with roses, and her face and form, full, but exquisitely developed. [illustration] in her hand is a cup of gold, from which a serpent is drinking, while around her are supposed to exist all the luxuries which attend her reign. she was the goddess of sensual pleasures, and had a temple at rome, where she was worshipped under the title of volupia. calumny and envy are the daughters of night, and though poets have been peculiarly the victims of these evils, yet they have frequently celebrated them in their verses; nor could more important engines in the mischiefs which arose in the world be well chosen; for, from calumny, which is the offspring of falsehood, arises crushed hearts and broken friendships--while of envy it has well been remarked, "open your heart once to receive her as a guest, and farewell to joy, peace, and contentment." { } famine is the daughter of night, and inhabited the infernal regions, though the lacedemonians dedicated to her an altar in the temple of minerva. [illustration] she is drawn miserable, pale, wan, meagre, and dejected: her eyes hollow and sunken, her complexion of a leaden hue, her teeth yellow, and her whole appearance worn and melancholy. discord, daughter of night, is the mother of a family of evils, almost too numerous to mention. having been refused admission to the nuptials of thetis and peleus, it is said that it was she, who, to revenge herself, threw on the table among the festal company, the apple, with the inscription, "to the most beautiful." this apple was the origin of the trojan war, and of innumerable misfortunes to the greeks. the goddess is represented with a pale and ghastly look, her garments torn, her eyes sparkling with fire, holding a dagger concealed in her bosom. her head is generally enwreathed with serpents, and she is imagined to be the cause of all the miseries, dissensions, and quarrels, which fall upon the inhabitants of the earth. { } we have now enumerated the most remarkable of the allegorical divinities, the number being too great to mention all. for the same reason we must omit the crowd of emperors, kings, and princes, who, having the folly to believe themselves gods, found mortals sufficiently weak to grant them faith, and to accord them homage. in concluding the greek mythology, however, we must mention several fables, which are so intimately connected therewith, as almost to form part of its history. * * * * * philemon and baucis. philemon and baucis were an aged couple, of phrygia, who, unblessed by the goods of fortune, found in their mutual and deep affection, a happiness, which nothing could overwhelm. ----------------------"there had lived long married and a happy pair now old in love, tho' little was their store, inured to want, their poverty they bore, nor aimed at wealth, professing to be poor." as they were sitting together, enjoying the sweets of mutual affection, two travellers, with a melancholy and impoverished appearance, after having asked hospitality, and been refused by the inhabitants of the village, sought refuge under their humble roof. unaccustomed to visitors, they were, however, received by them with kindness, and invited to partake of a modest repast. as they sate in kind communion, the forms of those whom they entertained suddenly changed, and they beheld jupiter and mercury in the place of the miserable beings they had received; the ancient couple throwing themselves on their knees, offered to their guests the deep homage of their hearts. the gods were pleased with their entertainment; but could not forget the inhospitality with which they had been received by their countrymen, and let loose the waves, and sent the thunderbolt to consume the town and its inhabitants. philemon and baucis, were, however, saved, and a superb temple replaced their lowly dwelling, of which they were made the priests. they lived long and happily, and having entreated jupiter that neither might outlive the other, they both died on the same day, and their bodies were changed into trees, and placed before the { } door of the temple which had arisen on the ruins of their lowly cottage. "lost in a lake the floated level lies; a watery desert covers all the plains, their cot alone, as on an isle, remains wond'ring with weeping eyes, while they deplore their neighbours' fate, and country now no more, their little shed, scarce large enough for two, seems, from the ground, in height and bulk to grow a stately temple shoots within the skies, the crotchets of their cot in columns rise, the pavement polished marble they behold, the gates with sculpture graced, the spires and roof of gold!" ovid. * * * * * pyramus and thisbe. [illustration] pyramus and thisbe were two young thebans, who, being greatly enamoured of one another, had their union opposed by their friends, between the families of whom there had been a variance for many years. "but to prevent their wandering in the dark, they both agree to fix upon a mark; a mark that could not their designs expose: the tomb of venus was the mark they chose; there they might rest secure beneath the shade, which boughs, with snowy fruit encumbered, made. a wide spread mulberry tree its rise had took just in the margin of a gurgling brook." ovid. they determined, however, if possible, to elude the vigilance of their persecutors, and agreed to meet outside the walls of the city, under the mulberry tree which grew there, and then to celebrate { } their union. thisbe was the first who arrived at the place appointed, when the sudden arrival of a lioness so frightened her, that she fled away, dropping her veil in her flight. this the lioness smeared with blood, and then disappeared, leaving it under the trysting tree. in a short time pyramus arrived, but found that she, for whom he looked, was absent: the bloody veil alone met his anxious gaze, which he instantly recognized, and concluded that she had been torn to pieces by wild beasts. in his despair he drew his sword and killed himself. when the fears of thisbe were passed away, she returned to the mulberry tree, but found only the lifeless remains of her lover. in the agony which overcame her, she fell upon the weapon with which pyramus had destroyed himself, and joined him in his endless rest. "but when her view the bleeding love confessed, she shrieked, she tore her hair, she beat her breast, she raised the body, and embraced it round, and bathed with tears unfeigned, the gaping wound, then her warm lips to the cold face applied-- 'and is it thus, ah! thus we meet,' she cried my pyramus, whence sprang thy cruel fate? my pyramus; ah! speak, ere 'tis too late: i, thy own thisbe; but one word implore, one word thy thisbe never asked before! fate, though it conquers, shall no triumph gain, fate, that divides us, still divides in vain. now, both our cruel parents, hear my prayer, my prayer to offer for us both i dare, o see our ashes in one urn confined, whom love at first, and fate at last, has joined. thou tree, where now one lifeless lump is laid, ere long o'er two shall cast a friendly shade, still let our loves from thee be understood, still witness, in thy purple fruit our blood-- she spoke, and in her bosom plunged the sword all warm, and reeking from its slaughtered lord." ovid. * * * * * acis and galatea. polyphemus, the most dreadful and hideous of the cyclops, loved galatea, one of the beautiful race of the sea-nymphs. day by day, did the giant sit by the side of a fountain, neglecting his flocks, and murmuring love songs the most touching and impassioned; while he adorned his person and endeavoured to render himself as agreeable, by these and other means, to his nymph as possible. { } galatea treated all his attentions with disrespect, and bestowed her affections upon acis; meeting him in secret in a grotto, there enjoying the sweet society of one another, unsuspicious of the danger which threatened them. ------------------"acis knelt at galatea's feet. she gazed awhile, one delicate hand was pressed against her cheek, that flushed with pleasure, and her dark hair streamed shadowing the brightness of her fixed eye, which on the young sicilian shepherd's face shone like a star-- 'twas strange that she, a high sea-nymph should leave, her watery palaces, and coral caves, her home, and all immortal company, to dwell with him, a simple shepherd boy." barry cornwall. polyphemus, however, discovered their retreat, and with it, the cause of all the scorn and indifference, with which he had been treated. ----------------"at once he saw his rival, and the nymph he loved so well, twined in each other's arms. 'away,' he cried, 'away thou wanton nymph, and thou, my slave. earth born and base, thou--thou whom i could shake to atoms, as the tempest scatters abroad the sea-sand tow'rd the skies, away, away!'" acis came forth from his retreat, and polyphemus threw an enormous rock upon him, which crushed him beneath its weight. ----------------"the shepherd boy, he felt the cyclop's wrath, for on his head the mighty weight descended: not a limb, or bone, or fragment, or a glossy hair, remained of all his beauty." galatea was in despair, and as she could not restore him to life, she changed him into a river, on the banks of which, she could still sport at even time, and sing to her beautiful, but lost love. --------------------"she changed, as grecian fables say, the shepherd boy into a stream, and on its banks would lie, and utter her laments in such a tone, as might have moved the rocks, and then would call upon the murdered acis. he the while ran to the sea, but oft on summer nights noises were heard, and plaintive music like, the songs you hear in sicily--shepherd swains for many an age would lie by that lone stream, and from its watery melodies catch an air, and tune it to their simple instruments." barry cornwall. * * * * * { } hero and leander. [illustration] hero was a priestess of venus, at sestos, whom leander met during one of the festivals held annually at the fane of the goddess, in honour of adonis. "as thro' the temple passed the sestian maid, her face a softened dignity displayed; and as she shone superior to the rest, in the sweet bloom of youth and beauty dress'd, such softness, tempered with majestic mien, the earthly priestess matched the heavenly queen." the appearance of hero inflamed the bosom of leander, nor was he long in expressing his love to the beautiful being who had won it. in the very temple of the goddess, whose priestess she was, and while warmed with the rites at which she had been assisting, leander avowed his passion. "her lily hand he seized, and gently pressed, and softly sighed the passion of his breast, then to the temples last recess conveyed the unreluctant, unresisting maid, silent she stood, and wrapt in thought profound, her modest eyes were fixed upon the ground, her cheeks she hid, in rosy blushes drest, and veiled her lily shoulders with her vest." mus�us. the earnest wooing of leander was assisted by the boy-god, and hero, won by his passionate pleading, and by a love as strong as it was sudden, consented to become his bride. ------------------"how more than sweet, that moment, as he knelt at hero's feet, breathing his passion in each thrilling word, only by lovers said, and lovers heard." l. e. l. before they parted, she told him of her place of abode over the broad hellespont, which he must cross, ere he could enjoy her society, and pointed out the spot to which he should look at night for a torch to guide his way. { } "dimly and slowly the hours passed by, until leander saw day's bright orb disappear: he thought of hero and the lost delight, her last embracings, and the space between; he thought of hero, and the future night, her speechless rapture, and enamoured mien." keats. at last the twilight came, followed by the darkness of night, and the bright star of venus alone looked down on the expectant lover. he saw not the dark rush of helle's wave, he heard not the fierce sweep of its waters; he thought only of the beautiful bride, who had sate watching, and waiting for the weary sun to go down; when, lo "her turret torch was blazing high, though rising gale and breaking foam, and shrieking sea birds warned him home; and clouds aloft, and tides below, with sighs, and sounds, forbade to go; he could not see, he would not hear, or sound or sign foreboding fear; his eye but saw that light of love, the only star it hailed above; his ear but rang with hero's song, 'ye waves divide not lovers long!'" with a strong hand and anxious heart, the husband-lover dashed aside the impetuous waves; and sought and gained in safety the shore which the blazing light had signalled. and, oh! the tenderness of that meeting; the obstacles which intervened added an additional zest, and the waves seemed to have nerved the youth to a higher excitement, as he gazed on hero. but the sorrowful morning came, and ------------------"they parted, but they met again-- the blue sea rolled between them--but in vain! leander had no fear, he cleft the wave, what is the peril fond hearts will not brave! delicious were their moonlight wanderings, delicious were the kind, the gentle things each to the other breathed; a starry sky, music and flowers, this is earth's luxury. the measure of its happiness is full, when all around, like it, is beautiful. there were sweet birds to count the hours, and roses, like those on which a blushing cheek reposes, violets as fresh as violets could be; stars over head, with each a history of love told by its light; and waving trees and perfumed breathings upon every breeze." l. e. l. but their intercourse was soon stopped, it seemed too beautiful { } for earth; leander, however, thought not of this, but with the enthusiastic ardour of youth, looked forward to a long life of delights. the day to him was a dull blank, and was employed in watching the spot, where at night he saw the beacon which cheered his way. but alas! the change came too soon. --------------------"one night the sky, as if with passion, darkened angrily, and gusts of wind swept o'er the troubled main like hasty threats, and then were calm again; that night, young hero by her beacon kept her silent watch, and blamed the night and wept, and scarcely dared to look upon the sky; yet lulling still her fond anxiety." l. e. l. morning came, and came after a night of such terror, as but rarely is known to mortals; for the first time leander had not sought her bower, and an indistinct shadow brooded over her mind, of some vague, uncertain dread, as she wandered down to the sea shore. "her heart sick with its terror, and her eye, roving in tearful, dim uncertainty. not long uncertain,--she marked something glide, shadowy and indistinct upon the tide; on rushed she in that desperate energy, which only has to know, and knowing, die-- --it was leander!" l. e. l. the melancholy tale is told; storm nor tempest had power to keep the husband from his wife, and in the wildness of his struggles for life, when hope was gone and despair succeeded, his last glance sought the watch light in abydos, and his last sigh was given to the fond being who looked in vain from its rocky strand. * * * * * pygmalion was a statuary, celebrated in cyprus for the exquisite skill of his statues. he became disgusted to such a degree with the debauchery of the females of amathus, that he resolved never to marry, but to devote himself to his art. in this he became so proficient, that his marble busts seemed almost like life--and one, the figure of a female, was regarded by him with such affection that he grew deeply enamoured of it, { } worshipping it with all the devotion which mortals usually pay to woman. the passion increased, and the gods, pitying his despair, changed the statue into that of a beautiful female, whom he married, and had by her a son called paphos, who founded the town of the same name in cyprus. "there was a statuary, one who loved and worshipped the white marble that he shaped; till, as the story goes, the cyprus' queen, or some such fine, kind hearted deity, touched the pale stone with life, and it became at last pygmalion's bride." barry cornwall. * * * * * sappho and phaon. the story of sappho and of phaon has become almost, if not quite as well known, as that of hero and leander. sappho was celebrated for her beauty and her poetical talents, all of which she bestowed in love on phaon. "a youth so shaped, with such a mien, a form like that of jove serene, with sparkling eyes, and flowing hair, and wit, that ever charms the fair." he gave himself up for a time to the pleasure of her society, but man was as fickle then as now, and he grew tired, even conceiving a disdain for her who had so quickly given herself to his arms. to a mind like sappho's, finely wrought, as that of poets usually are, this became insupportable; life was a burthen; song, now that the one had gone whose praise she valued more than all beside, became neglected; and in a fit of insupportable madness she threw herself into the sea. "from leucadia's promontory flung herself headlong for the lesbian boy, (ungrateful he to work her such annoy;) but time hath as in sad requital, given a branch of laurel to her, and some bard swears that a heathen god or goddess gave her swan-like wings wherewith to fly to heaven. and now, at times, when gloomy tempests roar along the adriatic, in the waves she dips her plumes, and on the watery shore sings as the love-crazed sappho sung of yore." barry cornwall. { } of all her compositions, but two now remain; which, fragments as they are, shew by their uncommon sweetness and beauty, how worthily the praises of the ancients were bestowed upon a poet, whom they even ventured to call the tenth muse. "then came a dark browed spirit, on whose head laurel and withering roses loosely hung: she held a harp, amongst whose chords her hand wandered for music--and it came. she sang a song despairing, and the whispering winds seemed envious of her melody and streamed amidst the wires to rival her, in vain. short was the strain but sweet: methought it spoke of broken hearts, and still and moonlight seas, of love, and loneliness, and fancy gone, and hopes decayed for ever: and my ear caught well remembered names, 'leucadia's rock,' at times, and 'faithless phaon:' then the form passed not, but seemed to melt in air away: this was the lesbian sappho." barry cornwall. the lesbians were so enraptured with her strains, that they raised her to divine honours, and erected a temple to her, and even stamped their money with her image. "thou! whose impassioned face the poet loves to trace, theme of the sculptor's art, and poet's story, how many a wandering thought thy loveliness hath brought, warming the heart with its imagined glory! yet, was it history's truth. that tale of wasted youth, of endless grief, and love forsaken, pining? what wert thou, thou whose woe the old traditions show, with fame's cold light around thee vainly shining! did'st thou indeed sit there in languid lone despair? thy harp neglected by thee idly lying? thy soft and earnest gaze, watching the lingering rays, in the far west, where summer-day was dying? did'st thou, as day by day, rolled heavily away, and left thee anxious, nerveless and dejected, wandering thro' bowers beloved, roving where he had roved, yearn for his presence, as for one expected? did'st thou, with fond wild eyes fix'd on the starry skies, wait feverishly for each new day to waken? trusting some glorious morn might witness his return, { } unwilling to believe thyself forsaken? and when contrition came, chilling that heart of flame, did'st thou, o saddest of earth's grieving daughters, from the lucadian steep, dash, with a desperate leap, and hide thyself within the whelming waters? such is the tale they tell, vain was thy beauty's spell-- vain all the praise thy song could still inspire, though many a happy band, rung with less skilful hand, the borrowed love notes of thy echoing lyre. fame, to thy breaking heart, no comfort could impart, in vain thy brow the laurel wreath was wearing; one grief and one alone could bow thy bright head down, --thou wert a woman, and wert left despairing!" mrs. norton. * * * * * numa pompilius. this hero was born on the very day that romulus laid the foundation of the roman city: he married tatia, the daughter of the sabine king, whom however he had the misfortune to lose; owing to which, he retired into the country that he might devote his time more uninterruptedly to study. when, upon the death of romulus, he was chosen by the senators to be their sovereign, it was with great difficulty that he could be persuaded to undertake the onerous task, which, however, he filled to the satisfaction of his subjects, dismissing the body guards who usually attended upon the roman emperor, thus showing he had no distrust of his subjects. his great object was to quell the spirit of war and conquest which he found in the people, and to inculcate the love of peace, with a reverence for the deity, whose worship by images he forbade, and established a priesthood for it, the effect of which was to prevent any graven images or statues from appearing in their sanctuaries for upwards of one hundred and thirty years. this wise monarch, aware that superstition is one of the greatest engines in governing a people, encouraged a report that he regularly visited the nymph egeria, who indeed, according to ovid, became his wife. { } in her name he introduced all his laws and regulations into the state, and solemly declared in the presence of his people, that they were sanctified by the approval of that being, an approval, which gave them additional favour in the eyes of this superstitious people. at his death, which took place after a reign of forty-three years, not only the romans, but the neighbouring nations were anxious to pay their testimony of reverence to a monarch, whom they could not help respecting no less for his abilities, than for his moderation in the application of them. he forbade the romans to burn his body, after their usual custom, but ordered them to bury it near mount jerusalem, with some of the books which he had written, which being accidentally found four hundred years after his death, were burned by order of the senate. they are stated merely to have contained the reasons why he had made the innovations into the ceremonies of their religion. "egeria! sweet creation of some heart, which found no mortal resting place so fair as thine ideal breast; whate'er thou art or wert,--a young aurora of the air, the nympholepsy of some fond despair; or it might be, a beauty of the earth, who found a more than common votary there too much adoring; whatso'er thy birth, thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied forth here did'st thou dwell, in this enchanted cover, egeria! thy all heavenly bosom beating for the far footsteps of thy mortal lover; the purple midnight veiled that mystic meeting with her most starry canopy, and seating thyself by thine adorer, what befel? this cave was surely shaped out for the greeting of an enamoured goddess, and the cell haunted by holy love--the earliest oracle! and did'st thou not, thy breast to his replying, blend a celestial with a human heart; and love, which dies as it was born, in sighing, share with immortal transports? could thine art make them indeed immortal, and impart the purity of heaven to earthly joys, expel the venom and not blunt the dart-- the dull satiety which all destroys-- and root from out the soul the deadly weed which cloys?" byron. * * * * * { } cadmus. cadmus was the son of agenor, and brother of europa, who was carried away by jupiter in the likeness of a bull; this prince being ordered by his father never to return if he was unable to find and bring back his sister; he at last consulted the oracle of delphos, to obtain its assistance in accomplishing his mission. [illustration] "look no longer for thy sister," replied apollo, "but follow the first cow which presents itself to thy sight, and wherever that shall stop, build a city for thee and thy successors." cadmus obeyed and was guided in this manner towards boeotia, which he founded. previous to this, wishing to thank the gods by a sacrifice, he sent his companions to fetch some water from a neighbouring grove; becoming alarmed at their delay, he went in search of them, and found they had desecrated a fountain sacred to mars, and that the dragon which presided over it had slain them. he arrived but just in time to witness him finishing the meal, which had followed their destruction. in fierce despair cadmus attacked, and by the aid of minerva overcame the monster, he then sowed the teeth of the dragon in the plain, upon which armed men rose suddenly from the ground. in his alarm he threw a stone at them, and they instantly attacked one another, leaving only five, who assisted him in building the city. he soon after married hermione, the daughter of venus; and had by her four sons and four daughters, whom juno, out of hatred to venus, cruelly persecuted. { } cadmus was the first who introduced the use of letters into greece, though others maintain that the alphabet brought by him from phoenicia, was only different from that used by the ancient inhabitants of greece. it was composed of seventeen letters, and to these were added some time after, by palamedes, an additional four, and by simonides of melos, also, the same number. in addition to the alphabet, by which the name of cadmus has become renowned, he introduced likewise, the worship of many of the egyptian and phoenician deities, to the inhabitants of greece, into which country, he is believed to have come about one thousand four hundred and ninety years before the christian era. in stories so remote, it is difficult to separate the true from the false, and still more so to give a plausible explanation of apparent incongruities: it has, however, been suggested, that the dragon's fable, arose from some country which cadmus conquered; that the armed men who are stated to have arisen from the field, were men armed with brass, a crop very likely to arise from the attempted subjection of a free country. we have now related the most celebrated fables in the mythology of the greeks and romans, without asserting that we have given all of them, some of which would be out of keeping in a work meant to be placed in the hands of youth, while others are not sufficiently authenticated, or do not bear sufficient interest, to induce us to present them to our readers. [illustration] { } bellerophon was son of glaucus, king of corinth, and named at first hipponous. the murder of beller, his brother, by him, procured his second name of bellerophon or the murderer of beller; after he had committed which, he fled to the court of proetus, king of argos, where being of a noble and fine person, he won the affections of the wife of the king; he refused to listen to her passion, and in revenge he was accused by her to her husband, of attempting her virtue. proetus, was very unwilling to trespass upon the laws of hospitality by punishing him, but sent him with a letter to jobates the father of his queen, entreating him to put to death the man who would have insulted the honour of his daughter. jobates to satisfy his son-in-law, sent beller to attack a monster called chimæra, in the full expectation that he would be destroyed. by the assistance of minerva, however, who lent him pegasus the winged horse, he succeeded in conquering the monster, and returned victorious to the court of jobates. [illustration] after this he was sent on various expeditions of great danger, in all of which he was so successful, that jobates imagined he was { } under the protection of the gods, and gave him the hand of his daughter cassandra in marriage, naming him as his successor to the throne. it has been asserted by some that he attempted to fly to olympus upon pegasus, but that jupiter sent an insect which stung the horse, who threw his rider headlong to the earth; and that for many years he remained melancholy, languishing, and full of pain and weakness. * * * * * milo was one of the most celebrated of the greek wrestlers, who having early accustomed himself to carry great burthens, became so strong, that nothing seemed too much for his vast efforts. it is recorded of him that he carried on his shoulders a young bullock, four years old, for more than forty yards, that he then killed it with a blow of his fist, and to crown the feat, afterwards eat it up. this man was one of the disciples of pythagoras, whose life he had saved, by supporting the whole weight of the building on his shoulders, when the roof of the school in which he was teaching gave way. [illustration] in his old age a melancholy fate awaited him; for failing in an attempt to pull up a tree by the roots, his hands remained fast pinched in the tree, when a lion suddenly sprang upon him, which he was unable to escape, and fell beneath the fury of the beast. * * * * * { } the principal divinities of indian mythology. it is scarcely possible for any religion to possess a more metaphysical and abstract character, than the creeds of the various sects which distinguish india. they present, however, too much interest to enable us to dispense with a few of the leading ones among them, this work not having for its object a deep research into obscure mysteries, but is meant to excite useful and pleasing ideas, without entering into elaborate explanations. [illustration: brahma!] this deity, according to the hindoos, is the eternal, the creator! and is one of the three members of the indian trinity. previous to his commencing the grand work of creating the world, and all that it contains, he passed thirty six millions of years contemplating the panorama of chaos, which was spread out before him. he then produced seven starry spheres, the earth, and its two luminaries, with seven inferior regions, lit by the sparkling light of eight carbuncles, placed on the heads of the same number of serpents. he next proceeded to the creation of the beings who were to people it, in the accomplishment of which, he was aided by the pure spirits who surrounded him. { } the earth, being yet uninhabited, he made the first man and the first woman wherewith to people it. brahma is the object of the most ancient adoration of the brahmins; he is considered the intelligence who existed before time, and will continue throughout eternity: he watches over the events of each age and revolution of the universe; he is the power by which everything was created, and everything is sustained; he is the invisible head of the brahmins, and as such, is worshipped by them with devoted respect. the hindoos invoke him regularly morning and evening, and throw water from the palms of their hands upon the ground, and towards the sun, which they adore as the likeness of the eternal, while at mid-day, they renew their homage by the offer of a flower. the hindoo painters always represent brahma with four heads and four faces, analagous to the four cardinal points, and long beards descending from his four chins. in his four hands he holds the mysterious chain, to which are suspended the worlds, and the book of the law; the pencil to write it, and the fire of sacrifice. [illustration: vishnu.] vishnu, the second deity of the indian trinity, is considered as the preserver of the world, which brahma has created out of nothingness. he descended on the earth by a sacrifice of which he alone was capable, and to save it from certain ruin, submitted to all the weaknesses of humanity. he became teacher, warrior, and prophet, that he might leave to { } the world on his quitting it, the model of a man. he resided in the centre of the worlds, and all the worlds were in him. vishnu is usually represented near his wife, whom he enfolds in his arms. his complexion is blue, his eyes are like the flowers of the lotos, and his visage burns with an eternal youth. he is strong and vigorous in appearance, his four hands are sometimes raised, as if in the act of blessing the human race, while on his head is placed a triple storied crown. in the middle of his side sparkles the magnificent diamond in which all things are reflected; while garments of a costly price clothe his noble form. to him are consecrated the eagle, the hawk, and the bee; at his side is placed a fantastic kind of bird, a beautiful mixture of the man and of the eagle. the faith of vishnu is spread over all india. siva is the third person of the indian trinity, and is the destroyer, as opposed to brahma, who creates, and to vishnu, who preserves. according to the hindoos, who believe in the doctrine of metempsychosis, the spirit passes from one form to another. to be born, is to appear under a new shape; to die, is to appear no longer under the same form. but, as it is impossible to disown destruction, as regards material things, they admit the existence of a god, whose power was of a double nature, and who could destroy and produce at the same time. siva is drawn with five heads, four hands, and three eyes in his principal head. he is carried by a bull, and holds in his hands a trident and a dwarf stag. when they would paint him menacing and terrible, his sharp teeth start from his gums; fire breathes from his lips; and human sculls form his diadem. serpents are entwining round his waist; the sword and the lance sparkle in his hands, and the tiger has taken the place of the bull; while his body assumes the appearance of a white cinder, a terrible symbol of his implacable rage. buddh. this is the being from whom the enormous number of followers take their stand, under the title of bouddhism, and with whom { } christianity alone has the power of claiming an equal number of followers. the books of his priests signalize twelve great epochs in his career, classed and entitled as follows:-- . the celestial origin of buddh. . his miraculous and divine conception in the bosom of a mortal mother. . his birth. . his progress in wisdom. . his marriage and royal splendour. . his retreat from the world. . his life as a hermit. . his appearance, whereby he is known as a saint. . his predictions. . his victory over the six chiefs of the earth. . the end of his career. . his burial. the doctrine of this deity is founded on the principle that the universe is animated by one spirit, and recommends ten precepts, which are,-- . not to kill. . not to steal. . to be chaste. . not to bear false testimony. . not to speak untruly. . not to swear. . to avoid all impure words. . to be disinterested. . to forgive injuries. . not to be superstitious. this religion, all peace and all love, prescribes gentleness and pity, abolishing the brutalizing and tyrannical distinction of castes, and invites the world to peace, life eternal, and to the identification of spirits with the supreme essence. the grand lama is the supreme priest of one of the great parties of this church, which has its principal home in thibet; and the veneration of his votaries for this human representative of their god, is celebrated over europe. below this sovereign pontiff, are patriarchs charged with the spiritual government of the provinces; a council of lamas who { } assemble in conclave, and whose insignia answer to those of the cardinals of the roman church. they admit oral confession, and make prayers for the dead. the images of buddh are multiplied in great numbers in all the pagodas of india, of tartary, of china, and the countries of asia. he is represented on a mat, his limbs crossed, his bust stiff, and his head elevated in an imposing attitude, announcing both instruction and education. [illustration] in ordinary cases he is naked and of a black colour, and with the bosom of a female. near him are groups of domestic animals, in allusion to the gentleness of the worship of this deity, which forbids the shedding of blood. beside the superior gods whom we have described, the numerous populations of india recognize a crowd of secondary divinities, whose history approaches in many instances to those of the greek and roman deities, and if their legends offer an interest by their singularity, they prove at the same time, that the founders of these various faiths have sought to give them a character of obscurity, that they may agree with the general mysticism of the east. the fables of india, essentially metaphysical and philosophical, are less agreeable than those of the people of the west, who indulge their sensual ideas to a considerable extent. below the supreme being, whose belief is spread among all nations, are placed the embodyings of the principal god: then, (of { } an order still less important,) are placed idols of all kinds, and of all forms, adored by these ignorant and credulous people. [illustration] of the many deities of the second category, the most remarkable is ganga, who is the river ganges personified, a river sacred alone to the hindoos. "a stream descends in meru mountain, none hath seen its secret fountain; it had its birth, so sages say, upon the memorable day when parvati presumed to lay, in wanton play, her hands, too venturous goddess, in her mirth, on seeva's eyes, the light and life of earth. thereat the heart of the universe stood still; the elements ceased their influences; the hours stopt in the eternal round; motion and breath, time, change, and life, and death, in sudden trance opprest, forgot their powers. a moment and the dread eclipse was ended, but, at the thought of nature thus suspended, the sweat on seeva's forehead stood, and ganges thence upon the world descended, the holy river, the redeeming flood. none hath seen its secret fountain, but on the top of meru mountain which rises o'er the hills of earth, in light and clouds, it hath its mortal birth: earth seems that pinnacle to rear, sublime above this worldly sphere, its cradle, and its altar, and its throne: and there the new born river lies, outspread beneath its native skies, as if it there would love to dwell, alone and unapproachable." southey. to perform their ablutions in its waters, to die on its brink, to be thrown after death into its waves, are the supreme happiness of { } the disciples of vishnu and of brahma. the dying carcasses are generally abandoned to the current of the wave. the most famous of their places of worship is that point of the peninsula, where the ganges, suddenly abandoning the mountains, is precipitated down the plains of hindostan. a temple is elevated in the middle of the waters, and surmounted by two cupolas. [illustration] here are constantly assembled a large crowd of pilgrims, and a willing contribution is paid to the brahmins. the two sexes bathe together, while the most rigid of the devotees walk to the bath escorted by two brahmins. "how sweetly ganga smiles and glides luxuriant o'er her broad autumnal bed! her waves perpetual verdure spread, whilst health and plenty deck her golden sides: as when an eagle, child of light, o'er her eyry proudly reared, sits brooding and her plumage vast expands, thus ganga o'er her cherished lands, to brahma's grateful race endeared, throws wide her fostering arms, and on her banks divine, sees temples, groves, and glittering towers, that in her crystal shine. "what name, sweet bride, will best allure, thy sacred ear, and give the honour due? vishnupedi? mild bhishmasu? smooth suranimnaga? trisrota pure? by that i call; its power confess: with growing gifts thy suppliants bless, who with full sails in many a light-oared boat, on thy jasper bosom float; nor frown, dread goddess, on a peerless race, with liberal heart and martial grace, wafted from colder isles remote: as they preserve our laws and bid our terror cease, so be their darling laws preserved, in wealth, in joy, in peace!" sir w. jones. { } the elephant plays a prominent part in the hindoo tales. they pretend that the world is sustained by four of these animals, who are placed at the four cardinal points. in most of their temples one of them is sure to be seen. [illustration] his colour is white, his tusks are sometimes four in number, and all his body is covered with carpet, sparkling in the light of diamonds and precious stones. the hindoos revere also a large serpent as a god: "'the god! the very god!' he cried, and howled one long, shrill, piercing, modulated cry; whereat from that dark temple issued forth a serpent, huge and hideous. on he came, straight to the sound, and curled around the priest his mighty folds innocuous, overtopping his human height, and arching down his head, sought in their hands for food. then quitting, reared, and stretched and waved his neck and glanced his forky tongue." southey. a cow, of whom the gods disputed the possession, is also worshipped by them; she was obtained by one of them through a stratagem very like that employed by jupiter with europa. they pay homage also to peculiar divinities, such as the goddess of pleasure, and the god of war. the former was fabled, like venus, to have arisen from the sea when agitated by the gods. the poetry of the east frequently alludes to fairies of great and { } exquisite beauty, who people the air, the earth, the rivers, and the woods, and are placed by them among the inferior divinities. [illustration] camdeo, the god of love, takes the same standing in the east, as cupid in the mythology of which we have already treated; though the indian description of his person and his arms, his family, attendants and attributes, has new and peculiar characteristics. [illustration] he is represented as a beautiful youth, sometimes conversing with his mother and consort, in the midst of his gardens and temples. his bow of sugar-cane or flowers, with a string of bees, and his five { } arrows, each pointed with an indian blossom of a heating quality, are allegories equally new and beautiful. this deity is adored in india, under a great number of names, camdeo, however, being the one by which he is best known, and under which he is most worshipped. "what potent god from agra's orient bowers, floats through the lucid air while living flowers, with sunny twine the vocal arbours wreathe, and gales enamoured, heavenly fragrance breathe? hail power unknown! for at thy beck vales and groves their bosoms deck, and every laughing blossom dresses with gems of dew, his musky tresses. i feel, i feel thy genial flame divine, and hallow thee and kiss thy shrine. "'knowest thou not me?' celestial sounds i hear! 'knowest thou not me? ah! spare a mortal ear! behold--' my swimming eyes entranced i raise, but oh! they sink before the excessive blaze. yes, son of maya, yes, i know thy bloomy shafts and cany bow, cheeks with youthful glory beaming, locks in braids ethereal streaming, thy scaly standards, thy mysterious arms, and all thy pains, and all thy charms. 'o thou for ages born, yet ever young, for ages may thy brahmins' lay be sung! and when thy glory spreads his emerald wings to waft thee high above the tower of kings, whilst o'er thy throne the moon's pale light pours her soft radiance through the night, and to each floating cloud discovers, the haunts of blessed or joyless lovers, thy mildest influence to thy bard impart, to warm, but not consume his heart." sir w. jones. [illustration] * * * * * { } scandinavia. [illustration] the edda, forming the mythological history of the ancient people of the north, is a complete receptacle of poetry no less than of history: and forms of itself a work of great interest. [illustration] the most important of the gods of scandinavia is odin, who was in all probability one of their kings, and whose amours, as numerous as those of jupiter, are perpetuated in a thousand legends. like jupiter too, he married his sister frea, and in the sacred books of the priesthood, he is known by upwards of a hundred names, all of them high sounding and magnificent. { } his adventures, which are numberless, are interwoven with the whole of the scandinavian history. frigga or frea, his wife, was the most powerful of the goddesses, and by many supposed to be identical with ceres, or the earth; the future was as familiar to her as to odin, with whom she is seated upon his throne, and whose government of the remaining deities she shared. when the warriors of the land seek glory in battle, she sends an inferior goddess to watch over the safety of those whom she favours, while they who fall, are honoured by the mighty mother frigga, herself mourning over their fate, not indeed for their sake, but for the sake of the country they would have adorned and the land for which they fought. [illustration] one of the children of frigga and odin, by name thor, presided over the works of creation, and over the variations of the atmosphere. the tempests and the apparent strife of nature, is caused by the struggle which thor constantly has with a famous serpent, whose vast folds embrace the whole circumference of the earth. balder, another son of odin and frigga, is described as the finest and the best of their race. he was distinguished no less for his { } eloquence than for his kindness and wisdom. it was his doom to meet with a premature death. aware, from her knowledge of the future, of the destiny which awaited him, frigga yet sought to avert it: and administered an oath to all the objects of nature, not to injure her beautiful and beloved balder. the stones, the trees, the fish, the very diseases were sworn to respect his life. no sooner had this been done, than his brothers determined to see, if indeed, he had a charmed life, and essayed successively the various means of death on the unhappy balder, who fell a victim to their folly; aided by the cunning of loke, who, through a stratagem which proved successful, showed how impossible it is to avert destiny.[ ] [illustration] his body was placed upon a funeral pile, and his wife was burned with him. no sooner was the funeral terminated, than a fellow-god, leading a fleet steed, went to demand the body of balder from the { } dark goddess hel, who replied that he should be returned if all created beings would shed a tear for him. one only refused, and balder was doomed, to the great grief of his mother, to rest in the infernal regions. among the amusements of odin, hunting forms a very important and prominent part; when the bows, arrows, and javelins were prepared by one deity; while another gilded the heavens with stars; a third protected and guided the steps of the hunters in the sacred wood; and the most successful of them received from odin the gift of immortality. [illustration] each of the three superior deities had their respective priests, who exercised absolute authority over all that was connected with their religion, as well as presided over their sacrifices. nor was it unusual to blend the priestly and the princely character, as in the case of odin. frigga was attended upon by king's daughters, who were entitled goddesses and prophetesses. they uttered oracles, devoted themselves to a lasting virginity, and like the vestals of the greek and roman mythology, kept a perpetual fire in the temple of their goddess. "the power of inflicting pains and penalties," says mr. howitt, "of striking and binding a criminal, was vested in the priests alone; { } and men so haughty that they thought themselves dishonoured if they did not revenge the slightest offence, would tremblingly submit to blows, and even death itself, from the hand of a pontiff, whom they took for the instrument of an angry deity." the councils of the divinities were held beneath the branches of an ancient oak, whose roots spread below over a fountain of water, remarkable for the number of serpents which it harboured. [illustration] teutates, the most celebrated of their minor deities, was the vital and acting principle of the world; to whom was attributed many of the functions which were supposed to belong to mars, to hercules, and to mercury. they worshipped him under the form of a dart, when they sought his aid in battle, and under that of an oak, when they endeavoured to inspire themselves with his advice; and his fétes were kept at the hour of night, in high places, or in solemn forests, by the rays of the moon, and the flashing of torches. the field where his holy ceremonies had been celebrated, was sown with stones, and from thenceforth doomed to know no more the voice of the sower, the song of the reaper, or the gladness of harvest time. under very important circumstances, it was by no means unusual to sacrifice human victims to this god, which were accompanied by flashing eyes, wild cries, and fierce gestures. [illustration: the sacrifice to teutates.] { } "but the general cause which regulated these sacrifices," says mr. howitt, (again to quote from his admiral work on priestcraft) "was a superstitious opinion, which made the northern nations regard the number three as sacred and peculiarly dear to the gods. thus every ninth month they renewed this bloody ceremony, which was to last nine days, and every day they offered up nine victims, whether men or animals. but the most solemn sacrifices were those which were offered at upsal, in sweden, every ninth year. then they chose from among the captives, in time of war, and amongst the slaves in time of peace, nine persons to be sacrificed. the choice was partly regulated by the opinion of bystanders, and partly by lot. the wretches upon whom it fell were then treated with such honours by all the assembly; they were so overwhelmed with caresses for the present, and promises for the life to come, that they sometimes congratulated themselves in their destiny. but they did not always sacrifice such mean persons. in great calamities, in oppressive famine, for instance, if the people thought they had a sure pretext to impute the cause of it to the king, they sacrificed him without hesitation, as the highest price they could pay for the divine favour. in this manner the first king of vermland was burned in honour of odin, to put away a great dearth. the ancient history of the north abounds in similar examples. "these abominable sacrifices were accompanied with various ceremonies. when the victim was chosen, they conducted him towards the altar on which the sacred fire was kept burning night and day. it was surrounded by all sorts of iron and brazen vessels. among them was one distinguished by its superior size; in this they received the blood of their victim. "when they offered up animals, they speedily killed them at the foot of the altar; then they opened their entrails, and drew auguries from them, as among the romans: but when they sacrificed men, those they pitched on were laid upon a large stone, and quickly strangled or knocked on the head." irminsul was another, and not the least celebrated of the gods adored by the germans; he had a magnificent temple, and a statue, which represented him in the figure of a warrior, was placed upon a column of marble. a great number of priests of both sexes served in the temple. women acted as prophetesses, while the men employed themselves in sacrifices, and the choice of victims. the priests of this god possessed great importance in public affairs. during certain solemnities, armed warriors performed their evolutions around the idol, and in his sanctuary was placed immense treasure, both in arms and in precious stones. the temple was however destroyed by charlemagne, who broke { } the statue, and with poetical justice, slaughtered the priests on the threshold of the very place which they had so often deluged with human blood. one column however remained standing, which was to the eyes of the saxons, holier and dearer in its melancholy reminiscences, than if it had still possessed the statue of the god, which the emperor threw in the depths of the sea. the sacrifices to these deities were sometimes varied; there was a deep well in the neighbourhood of the temple at upsal, where the chosen person was thrown in headlong, in honour of the deity representing the earth. if the body fell to the bottom, the goddess was supposed to accept it; if not, she refused it, and it was hung up in a sacred place. near this place was a forest, named odin's grove, every leaf of which was regarded as sacred, and was filled with the bodies of those who had been sacrificed. occasionally the blood of their children was not spared even by the monarchs of the land--hacon of norway, shed the blood of his son on the altar to secure a viceroy; and aune of sweden, in an attempt to obtain a continuance of life, sacrificed the lives of nine of his offspring; examples which could not fail to produce an effect upon their people. but not only did they delight in the sacrifices of human life, they also gave way in their orgies to unbounded licentiousness. while at uulel, at the feast of thor, the license was carried to such a pitch as to become merely bacchanalian meetings, where, amidst shouts, dancing, and indecent gestures, so many unseemly actions were committed, as to disgust the wiser part of the community. [illustration] { } america. the greater part of the american nations were abandoned to polytheism, and allowed a crowd of divinities: and nearly all adored the sun, as the best representation of the eternal. in peru, at the time of its discovery by pizarro, viracocha was supposed to be the creator of the gods, and below him, they believed in two triads; the first was chuquilla, catuilla, and intyllapa; and the second apomti, churunti, and inti-quaoqui. the creator of the world, according to the mexicans, was mexitli, who was seated on an azure coloured stool, placed on a litter; his hand grasped an azure staff, in the shape of a serpent, and to crown all, he was of an azure complexion. tlaloc was their second, and tezcallipuca their third deity. this last was considered the god of repentance: and it was by the direction of the first, that they built the magnificent city of mexico in the midst of a lake. [illustration] they had, besides these, tangatanga, an idol which was, according to them, three-in-one and one-in-three. they possessed also a venus, who, with her three sisters, presided over love. it is not unusual to represent her reclining on a couch, while the favoured lover is shewn sitting by her side, hand in hand, as an emblem of mutual affection. { } the mexicans also had a goddess of old age, to whom they rendered honours of the highest character. they immolated on her altar once every year a female, whom they forced to dance in presence of the idol to whom she was to be sacrificed: while in the evening, the priests ran wildly in the streets, striking children and females with small bundles of hay. when any solemn feast was in preparation, they made choice of a young and beautiful slave, whom, after bathing in the lake dedicated to their gods, they clothed in the richest costume, offering to him the highest honour for a space of forty days; all that could tend to allure the mind to earth, or render life desirable, was showered upon the victim, his wishes were anticipated, and his desires fulfilled. nine days, however, before the sacrifice took place, the priest, prostrating himself, uttered this brief sentence, "you have yet nine days to live!" intoxicating liquors were then given him, to sustain his courage until the day of the solemnity arrived, when he paid the penalty, by death; his heart was torn from his body, which was afterwards precipitated from the platform of the temple, mid the wild cries of the priests, and the yet more savage greetings of the multitude. the religious orgies of the mexicans were of a gloomy and frightful character; to enable them to go through which, their priests anointed themselves with a particular ointment, and used various fantastic ceremonies to deprive themselves of timidity. they then would rush forth to celebrate their rites, during which their vestal-virgins, and the priests were wont frantically to cut themselves with knives. quetsalocatl was the deity to whom the highest honours were paid in the valley of cholula. the air, commerce, war, and divination were under his control; and it was through him that the remarkable prophecy was supposed to originate, which prepared the mexicans for the coming of the spaniards into their territory. the ceremonials attached to his faith were of an inhuman nature, they sacrificed to him an enormous number of human victims. cholula, was, indeed, the mecca of this false divinity, and in order to receive the crowd of pilgrims, who day by day assembled, it was found necessary to maintain as many temples as there are days in the year. { } the principal one of these was an immense pyramid of thirteen hundred and fifty-five feet round its base, and about one hundred and seventy in height. of all the offerings which could be given to their god, human sacrifices were considered most acceptable: a belief, which, with a superstitious and warlike people, necessarily produced an enormous number of victims; as every prisoner taken in war soon came to be considered a fitting subject for the cruelties of the temple, and the worship of their gods. it has been suggested, that some navigators of phoenicia might have been thrown upon the then unknown shore of america, from which place they did not return, but gave to their descendants their religion, which in the lapse of ages became lost; because in some things it bears a resemblance that cannot fail to bring that of egypt to the mind, an idea, which the vestiges of monuments of gigantic proportions, with forms and hieroglyphics, strongly tend to aid. "pyramids," says an able writer of the present day, "not inferior to the egyptian, exist in many parts of the mexican territories and of new spain. some of these pyramids are of larger base than the egyptian, and composed of equally durable materials; vestiges of noble architecture are visible at cholula, otumba, oaxica, mitlan, and tlascola. "the ancient town of palenque, exhibits not only excellent workmanship in the temples, palaces, private houses, and baths, but a boldness of design in the architect, as well as skill in the execution, which will not shrink from a comparison with the works, at least, of the earlier ages of egyptian power. in the sanctuaries of palenque, are found sculptured representations of idols, which resemble the most ancient gods of egypt and syria; planispheres and zodiacs exist, which exhibit a superior astronomical and chronological system to that which was possessed by the egyptians. "statues, sculptured in a purely classical style, have been found; and vases, agreeing both in shape and ornament with the earliest specimens of egyptian and etruscan pottery, have been found in their sepulchral excavations. "evidences also exist in mexico, of two great branches of hieroglyphical language, both having striking affinities with the egyptians, and yet distinguished from it by characteristics perfectly american." { } the same authority says, "the gods of the tultecans, appear sculptured in bas relief, in the dark inner rooms of extant temples. we will take one, as an instance of the analogy to which we allude. pourtrayed on the inner wall of the adytum of one of the sanctuaries belonging to the great temple of palenque, appears the chief god of the tultecan people. our opinion is, that he is strongly identifiable with the osiris of egypt, and the adonis of syria; or rather, that he is the ancient god, called adoni-siris, a well known classical combination, therefore an identification, of both divinities. in the first place he is enthroned on a couch, perfectly egyptian in its model; it is constructed somewhat in the form of a modern couch, a cushioned plinth, resting on the claws, and four limbs of the american lion: we may at once emphatically say that there is no real difference between the above couch, and that peculiarly designated as egyptian, and which is observable in all the tombs and palaces of egypt; on his head he wears a conical cap, not differing much from that which the osiris of egypt wears. two additional symbols, the one egyptian, the other not, but equally intelligible, namely the lotus and the column affixed to the cap, clearly indicate the same tri-une divinity?" the following description of one of their gods, we think, also affords additional ground for this opinion. "in the midst of an enclosure, which does not yield in size or grandeur to the proudest monuments of egypt, and on the top of an immense pyramid stands the image. [illustration] it is placed on a throne upheld by an azure globe; and on its { } head are plumes of divers colours. his face, severe and frightful, is marked with two blue lines. he has two vast wings formed like a bat, and the feet of a goat; while in his middle is drawn the head of a lion. as a proof of the bloody nature of the religion of the mexicans, we may mention, that on solemnizing the building of their principal temple, sixty thousand prisoners were sacrificed. cortez found in an enormous edifice the skulls of those who had been slain, the number of which amounted to upwards of one hundred and fifty thousand. [illustration] * * * * * africa. the supreme deity of the hottentots, is supposed by them to possess a human form, and his residence is believed to be in the moon. when he renders himself visible to mortals, he appears in the shape and form of a hottentot, and is, according to their ideas, possessed of exquisite beauty; they never worship him, and their reason for this absence of homage is stated by them to be, that the god has uttered a curse upon those who shall attempt to serve him; one thing is certain, that this people hold sorcery in great esteem. ovisara is the supreme being of another part of africa. invisible, everywhere present, omniscient, and infinitely good, he is never invoked. "the better he is" say the negroes, "the more useless it is to pray to him," and as a natural consequence, their minds have recourse to, and believe implicitly in demons, in shadows and in divination. a pot pierced through the bottom in three places, is the organ used by the priests to give their oracles to the people; and from the sound which issues from the vessel, is drawn the good or evil augury: this sound is explained by jugglers, who, perfect masters of their trade, never find their address at fault. { } the priests take but a small part in the public affairs; and it is forbidden to them, under very severe penalties, to enter the capital. on great occasions, when a sacrifice of prisoners is to be made, recourse however is had to them, to give an additional solemnity to the proceedings. these ceremonies take place before the greater idols, who, according to the negroes, represent the evil spirits; and the number of victims should be five and twenty: unlike most other lands, who in the same circumstances are too eager for blood, they are allowed to ransom their lives, should it be in their power. the negroes of senegal adore a river, trees, and serpents, with a crowd of shapeless idols, the legends of whom neither amuse by their incident, or excite the imagination by the beauty of their poetry. in parts of africa, they worship the soul of the dead, and a being named molongo, upon whom they are most prodigal in bestowing titles; such as sovereign of nature, and of the sun and moon, and king of the earth and sea; while on others, they pay deep reverence to monkeys, who are brought up with care, and covered with honours. among the nations of congo, and in the caffre-land, the people are abandoned to the grossest superstitions. in the middle and to south of africa, the worship of idols is universal; while in abyssinia and at the cape, are some faint gleams of christianity mingled with impure legends, which have doubtless been derived from the mythologies of greece and india. [illustration] * * * * * { } polynesia. the inhabitants of polynesia, are, like all those whose faith is primitive and simple, devoted to the worship of the sun, which they regard as a divinity; and which they imagine at one time to have been a human being: they believe he married his sister, who, when all the rest of her family came upon earth, remained by herself in the skies, and from their union sprang the months. the otaheitians, more advanced in civilization, have also more extended ideas of the divinity. they worship a supreme deity whose wife is material and corporeal, and of a nature therefore entirely different from his own. they gave birth to a class of supernatural beings, which correspond with the inferior divinities of other mythologies, from one of whom, sprang the three persons, forming the trinity peculiar to this people; of these one is the creator, and lord of the starry hemisphere; another is the neptune of their seas, the next watches over the hurricanes which sweep along the pacific ocean, and presides over the winds. but the mode in which they account for the formation of the numerous islands for which the place is remarkable, is not the least curious of their beliefs. one of their divinities, they say, took his wife, and threw her with so strong an arm into the sea, that she fell to the bottom, and by the force of the concussion was broken into pieces. as she rebounded, lacerated, and divided into myriads of fragments of all sizes, they turned into the rocks, the shoals, and the numerous isles of polynesia. an enormous fragment floated to the east, and formed america. the principal goddess of the sandwich islands, is remarkable chiefly for her hideous appearance. the face is tatooed, the nostrils are enormous, and her eyes, which are so small they are scarcely to be seen, resemble a leaf of laurel. along her mouth are spread rows of teeth, which from the sharpness of their appearance, might belong to a wild beast, the neck is of an immense thickness; and the whole appearance is one which may vie in frightfulness with any deity or demon of this idolatrous people. our task is now closed; the religions of those who have gone before us, have been given with as much accuracy as the lapse of { } ages has permitted. we have sought the hidden beauties of poetry, to aid us in our endeavours, and to render them palatable to our readers; to those who have accompanied us in our wanderings; to those who have been with us among the elegant reminiscences of the greek mythology, and followed us to the more painful and revolting creed of the american, we can only say, that we hope to them, as to us, the subject has excited interest, and that a perusal of the fables we have been able to lay before them, may induce them to take a greater interest, and place a higher value on that faith, and on those truths which are set before them in the word of the one great god. with the following lines of the lamented l. e. l. we shall close our work, not doubting that our readers will perceive and appreciate their beauty. ----------------"the days of visible poetry have long been past!-- no fear that the young hunter may profane the haunt of some immortal,--but there still-- for the heart clings to old idolatry, if not with true belief with tenderness-- lingers a spirit in the woods and flowers which have a grecian memory,--some tale of olden love, or grief, linked with their bloom, seem beautiful beyond all other ones. the marble pillars are laid in the dust, the golden shrine and its perfume are gone but there are natural temples still for those eternal, tho' dethroned deities, where from green altars, flowers send up their incense." l. e. l. [illustration] * * * * * { } index. preface, v introduction, achilles, acis, acteon, �neas, �olus, �tes, �geus, admetus, adonis, adrastus, agamemnon, age of gold, age of steel, agenor, alcestis, alcyone, alcmeon, alphisibaus, amphion, amphitrite, amphiaraus, anadyomine venus, anchises, andromeda, antigone, apollo, arachne, arion, ariadne, argo, astræa, athena pallas, atlas, atreus, atropos, autumn, aurora, auster, balder, bacchus, bacchantes, the, battle of the centaurs, baucis, bellerophon, boreas, brahma, buddh, cadmeo, cadmus, calista, calumny, callirhoe, cassandra, - castalia, castor, centaurs, the, cerberus, ceres, cepheus, chaos, charybdis, charon, chiron, chrysaor, circe, clotho, colchis, comus, clytie, clytemnestra, clymene, cupid, cyclops, the, cybele, cyparissus, danaides, the, daphne, death of hercules, destiny, dejanira, diana, dido, discord, divinities of fables, echo, egisthus, endymion, envy, erigone, erostatus, eteocles, europa, eurus, eurydice, eurystheus, famine, fates, the, fauns, fidelity, flora, fortuna, friendship, frigga, ganga, galatea, genius, glaucus, - golden apple, golden fleece, the, gorgons, the, graces, the, harpies, the, harpocrates, hebe, hecate, hector, helen, heliades, the, hercules, hermaphrodite, hermes, hesione, hero and leander, hippodamia, hippolytus, honour, hope, hyacinth, hymen, icarius, io, iphigenia, irminsul, ixion, janus, jason, jocasta, judgment of paris, juno, jupiter, jupiter ammon, labours of hercules, laius, laocoon, laomedon, lares, the, latona, lacheses, l'amore dominatore, leander, leucothoe, { } liberty, lychas, manes, the, marathon, marriage of hercules, mars, marsyas, medea, medusa, - memnon, menelaus, mercury, midas, - milo, minerva, minos, - minotaur, the, mologno, momus, morpheus, mount helicon, narcissus, nemesis, neptune, nessus, nerieds, the, night, nine muses, the, - niobe, nox, numa pompilius, oceanus, oedipus, odin, olympus, omphale, - orpheus, - ovisara, pan, - pandora, paris, peace, pegasus, pelops, pelias, penetates, the, perestere, perseus, peribæa, phæton, phaon, phoebus, phædra, philemon, philoctetes, phineus, pluto, - plutus, polydectes, polyphemus, - poisoned scarf, the, pomona, prometheus, proserpine, proteus, psyche, pygmalion, pyramus, python, the serpent, pythian games, the, quetsalocatl, salmaeis, sappho, saturn, saturnalia, the, satyrs, scylla, silenus, siva, somnus, songs of the winds, song of night, sphynx, the, spring, summer, sylvans, syrens, the, syrinx, sisyphus, tangatanta, tantalus, - tartarus, temple of apollo, temple of diana, terminus, teutates, themis, theseus, - thetis, thisbe, thor, titans, the, thyestes, tityus, trojan war, the, truth, ulysses, uranus, venus, venus aeræa, venus cytheræa, vesta, vestals, the, victory, viracocha, virtue, vishnu, voluptuousness, vulcan, vulcanalia, the, winter, wise men of greece, zepherus, list of engravings. frontispiece, _to face title_ the dance of the corybantes, the feast of bacchus, jason and medea, hercules delivering hesione, the death of nessus, the anger of priam, pyrrha seizing the sword before achilles, the sacrifice to teutates, london:--printed and published by willoughby and co., , smithfield. * * * * * illustrated standard works publishing by willoughby & co., , warwick lane, and , smithfield, london. (export orders strictly executed.) ------ the adventures of robinson crusoe: by daniel de foe.-- embellished with three hundred engravings, after designs by j. j. grandville. the most extensively illustrated and complete edition of this work yet published. _demy vo. cloth, gilt back, ( pp.) price s._ "a book from which the most luxuriant and fertile of our modern prose writers have drunk inspiration--a book, moreover, to which from the hardy deeds which it narrates, and the spirit of strange and romantic enterprise which it tends to awaken, england owes many of her astonishing discoveries both by sea and land, and no inconsiderable part of her naval glory. "hail to thee, spirit of de foe! what does not my own poor self owe to thee? england has better bards than either greece or rome, yet i could spare them easier far than de foe, 'unabashed de foe,' as the hunchbacked rhymer styled him."--_george barrow._ "the most romantic of books; the text and wood-cuts in this edition are exceedingly beautiful."--_morning advertiser._ "robinson crusoe is eagerly read by young people; and there is hardly a child so devoid of imagination as not to have supposed for himself a solitary island, in which he could act 'robinson crusoe,' were it but in a corner of the nursery. neither does a re-perusal, at a more advanced age, diminish early impressions. the situation is such as every man may make his own. it has the merit, too, of that species of accurate painting which can be looked at again and again with new pleasure."--_sir walter scott._ "oh! the delight with which we first devoured the pages of crusoe; and oh! how that delight would have been enhanced had we at that day possessed the illustrated book before us! 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"all the designs are full of spirit, and descriptive of the remarkable passages in this fine satire on the policy, drama, literature, and domestic habits of the spaniards."--_morning advertiser._ ------ asmodeus, the devil on two sticks:--a newly-revised translation by an eminent author, allowed by critics to be _the best edition extant_. with two hundred engravings, after designs by tony johannot. _demy vo. cloth, gilt back, ( pp.) price s._ "it is asmodeus who speaks, and the judicious reader will find strokes of the crutches, which he may improve to his advantage and edification."--_old preface._ "the engravings, though worked with the type, are, through care and skill, as clear and distinct as plates intended for separate publication."--_literary gazette._ ------ mythology of the ancients;--with nearly two hundred engravings, by first-rate artists. _demy vo. cloth, gilt back, ( pp.) price s._ "a proper as well as an acceptable present to the young. this, we are sure, will be no slight recommendation to those who are in the habit of objecting to works treating of similar subjects, which have less regard to moral purity."--_kendal mercury._ ------ adventures of telemachus;--translated by dr. hawkesworth, embellished with nearly two hundred engravings. _demy vo. cloth, gilt back, ( pp.) price s._ "the publishers have rendered good service to literature and the public, by presenting, in a cheap and popular form, a work occupying such a proud position in the literature of the world."--_city chronicle._ "who would be without an illustrated telemachus, when it can be had on such terms? the translation is by dr. hawkesworth, and is unexceptionable, both in elegance of style and fidelity to the original."--_conservative journal._ ------ gulliver's travels;--by jonathan swift, dean of st. patrick's; beautifully illustrated with numerous engravings, from designs by grandville; with a biographical sketch. in this edition of the celebrated travels, care has been taken to follow minutely the text of the original. _demy vo. cloth back, ( pp.) price s._ ------ history of america;--from its discovery by the northmen to the present time; by john frost, a.m. embellished with numerous engravings; which consist of highly-finished woodcuts, illustrating the most important and striking events in the annals of that nation, and so numerous as to enable the reader to follow the course of events by simply turning over the leaves, and passing from incident to incident, and from character to character, exciting in the young and uninstructed an earnest desire to read the connecting narrative; with a portrait of the author. _demy vo. cloth, gilt back, ( pp.) price s._ "this handsome volume, interspersed with numerous beautiful wood-engravings, contains the history of america from the discovery by the northmen, in the tenth century, to the present time. we sincerely hope that the work will obtain, as it deserves, a large circulation; and we recommend it to our readers, with confidence in its utility and value."--_weekly dispatch._ "the history of america, from the date of its discovery by europeans until the present time, is a subject of deep interest to all who attach any value to an acquaintance with the origin, rise, and progress of great nations. the issue of such a work is, moreover, particularly well-timed."--_weekly dispatch. ( nd notice.)_ "as englishmen, we shall always remember the americans of the united states are our brethren, and that every triumph achieved by them, if achieved in a good cause, we, to some extent, share the glory of. the two nations are united by ties of blood, and the past history, present state, and the future progress of each must be interesting to the other."--_northern star._ ------ fables; original and selected:--with an introductory dissertation on the history of fable, and comprising biographical notices of the most eminent fabulists, by g. moir bussey. embellished with numerous engravings by j. j. grandville. _demy vo. cloth, gilt back, ( pp.) price s._ "to the lovers of fables--that is to say, to every one who has imagination and moral sense--this publication ought to be a welcome and grateful offering."--_atlas._ "the engravings are superb, both as regards their design and execution. the work is beautifully got up, and is sold remarkably cheap--even for this age of cheap printing. we cordially recommend it to our readers."--_satirist._ "the selection has been made with care and attention; it is characterised by a total absence of everything gross."--_morning advertiser._ "we can confidently recommend this work to our readers, as one of the cheapest and best of its class."--_court gazette._ ------ valentine vox, the ventriloquist;--by henry cockton, esq. embellished with sixty richly humourous engravings on steel, by s. onwhyn. _demy vo. cloth, gilt back, ( pp.) price s._ this is one of the most amusing and deeply interesting publications of the day. the power of an accomplished ventriloquist is well known to be unlimited. there is no scene in life in which that power is incapable of being developed; it gives its possessors an absolute command over the actions, the feelings, and the passions of men; while its efficacy in loading with ridicule every prejudice and every project whose tendency is pernicious, cannot fail to be perceived at a glance. the design of this work, although essentially humorous, is not, however, to excite peals of laughter alone: it has a far higher object in view, namely, that of removing the most prominent of our social absurdities and abuses, by means the most peculiarly attractive and pleasing. "a very humorous and amusing little work, detailing the life of a ventriloquist. it abounds in droll scenes, which will keep the most melancholy reader in a side-aching fit of laughter as long as he has the book in his hands."--_times._ "this is a clever bozian work, very smartly and shrewdly written. the illustrations, by onwhyn, are original, and facetious."--_court journal._ "a racy production of the class which mr. dickens has rendered so popular. valentine, the hero, is a youth, who having witnessed the performance of a ventriloquist, finds, after much practice, that he can himself accomplish the feat. it is scarcely necessary to mention the lots of fun of which this may be made the foundation."--_weekly true sun._ ------ struggles and adventures of christopher tadpole, at home and abroad.--by albert smith, author of the "adventures of mr. ledbury," "the overland mail," "the fortunes of the scattergood family," &c, &c. illustrated by john leech. _in demy vo., cloth, gilt back, price s._ "the real strength of the author is in description. there is often a minute fidelity in his pictures which render them extremely graphic. he, like mr. dickens, is always in the streets of london, or any other venerable city."--_atlas._ "a very entertaining tale; distinguished by great smartness of style, peculiar happiness in description, and an amusing variety and contrast of character."--_morning advertiser._ "dickens and albert smith so assimilate in style, and their vigorous powers of conception are so great, that it would be a very difficult task for the nicest critic to award a preference as to their merits. let it be said, therefore, that they are stars of great magnitude, shining with equal brilliancy."--_cambridge independent press._ "abounding with sketches of life and character true to nature, and with that broad caricature which those who are familiar with the literary productions of this author must have so fully appreciated. but mr. smith not only deals in burlesque; he can be grave as well as gay, and has made himself acquainted with the workings of the human heart, as well as the surface peculiarities of human character, which bids fair to raise him to the same literary eminence as his contemporary dickens. he dashes on with unflagging spirit and good-humoured satire. for vigour he has never been surpassed by any writer of the same school."--_nottingham review._ ------ pickwick abroad;--by g. w. m. reynolds, esq., author of the "mysteries of london," "robert macaire in england," &c. &c. embellished with steel engravings designed by alfred crowquill and john phillips, and numerous woodcuts by bonner. _demy vo. cloth, gilt back, ( pp.) price s._ "'pickwick abroad' is so well done by g. w. m. reynolds, that we must warn "boz" to look to his laurels."--_age._ "'pickwick abroad' is an admirable continuation of boz's famous 'posthumous papers of the pickwick club,'and promises to become equally popular. the characters are sustained with great spirit and fidelity; and the scenes and incidents are varied and full of life."--_glasgow courier._ "monsieur g. w. m. reynolds fait voyager en france m. pickwick, au grand amusement de ses lecteurs. dans cet ouvrage de m. reynolds on remarque avec plaisir que l'auteur tente à accroitre les sympathies de l'angleterre pour la france,"--_révue britannique_, (a french magazine.) "'pickwick abroad' is presented to us with undiminished spirit; and the variety of character and incident afforded by the sojourn of the pickwickians at paris keeps our attention on a perpetual _qui vive_."--_weekly chronicle._ ------ alfred; or, the adventures of a french gentleman;--by g. w. m. reynolds, esq., author of "pickwick abroad," the "mysteries of london," &c. with fourteen steel engravings. _demy vo. gilt back, ( pp.) price s. d._ ------ _nearly ready, a new edition._ the steam packet; a tale of the river and the ocean. by g. w. m. reynolds, author of "pickwick abroad," &c., &c. embellished with beautiful steel engravings, designed by j. h. jones. ------ coombe abbey:--an historical tale of the reign of james the first: wherein all the engrossing incidents which led to the gunpowder plot will be found detailed with historical accuracy, by selina bunbury, author of "a visit to my birthplace," "recollections of ireland," &c. &c.: with numerous illustrations on wood, by sargeant, henning, newman, &c. _demy vo. cloth, gilt back, ( pp.) price s._ ------ _just published, a second edition, with upwards of one hundred illustrations,_ the pictorial reader;--compiled from the most approved authorities. copiously illustrated from the most graceful and animated designs, which bring the image of almost every scene and object mentioned immediately before the reader, and, by appealing to the eye, prepare the mind to receive the strongest impressions. _demy mo. price s._ "it is like a nosegay, where one hue is all the brighter from its immediate contact with another."--_kentish independent._ ------ knight's penny magazine (new series).--there are thousands of readers who have not possessed themselves of this instructive and pleasing book, yet can duly appreciate its valuable contents, and who have yet to acquire the knowledge imparted therein by that great benefactor of the million, mr. charles knight. it is believed, therefore, that its present reproduction will secure it a very large circulation. _in one vol. cloth, gilt back, price s._ ------ faces in the fire;--a story for the season: with wood engravings, and illustrations on steel by nicholson. uniform with dickens' "christmas carol." _in one handsome volume, small vo., s. d._ ------ the historic gallery of portraits and paintings;--with lives of the most celebrated men of every age and country. these beautiful engravings are in outline by first-rate artists. four vols. in two. _demy vo. half morocco, price s._ "this very cheap and clever work contains a liberal supply of engravings in outline, together with descriptions in prose. it ranges from hampden to henry viii., from rubens to robespierre; it takes in all nations and all ages."--_court journal._ ------ sculpture illustrations;--with thirty-seven embellishments, both ancient and modern, and a "dissertation on sculpture," by r. w. sievier, esq., f.r.s. _demy to. price s._ "this is one of the most beautifully illustrated books ever introduced to the public; and, to add to its value, the letter-press descriptions given are written by masterly hands, and convey a large amount of important information. the work contains nearly fifty illustrations, comprising the finest subjects in the art of sculpture, both antique and modern; and the engravings, which are executed in outline, have a light and graceful appearance. to the young student this work will prove of great advantage; its engravings, and its sound practical instruction, presenting to him materials for thought and action which few other works on this divine art can offer. the book is printed in strict keeping with the illustrations--neat, chaste, and elegant."--_london mercury._ ------ dedicated to robert vernon, esq. the universal picture gallery;--being engravings from the best masters, both ancient and modern, by linton, gilks, measom, &c, with letter-press illustrations. _demy to. handsomely bound in crimson cloth, gilt edges, price s. d._ it is the mission of art to realize and embody the ideal creations of the poet; indeed, the painter must himself be more or less a poet,--expressing by form and colour that which the writer educes by words: and to bring both art and literature, in the most attractive guise, to the homes and firesides of the many, is the aim and object of the present work. the engravings are of the first class, from the burins of linton, gilks, the brothers measom, &c., and printed on tinted drawing paper. while the subjects are systematically chosen from the best works of ancient and modern artists, there is attached to each such attractive information upon its origin, style, history, or feeling, as may be necessary to enable the reader to appreciate its peculiar excellence and value. ------ travellers and travelling.--a book for everybody, going anywhere. by e. l. blanchard. lavishly illustrated by f. g. delamotte. _in stiffened wrapper, price d._ "heads and tales of travellers and travelling" is exactly one of those books that every one ought to read. open it where you will, you will be safe to find something to amuse you and make you laugh. puns and jokes of all kinds, "from grave to gay, from lively to severe," are throughout its pages as "plentiful as blackberries."--_sunday times._ ------ _just published._ the adventures of old dan tucker and his son walter;--a tale of north carolina.--by c. h. wiley. illustrated with beautiful engravings, by felix o. c. darley. _demy vo. cloth, gilt edges, price s. d._ "----------------give me the broad prairie, where man, like the wind, roams impulsive and free; behold how its beautiful colours all vary, like those of the clouds or the deep-rolling sea! a life in the woods, boys, is even as changing; with proud independence we season our cheer; and those who the world are for happiness ranging, won't find it at all if they don't find it here." geo. p. morris. ------ the juvenile museum; or, a child's library of amusement and instruction.--by quiet george. illustrated with numerous engravings. _demy vo. cloth, gilt edges, price s. d._ fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, grandfathers, grandmothers, cousins, godfathers, godmothers, &c, &c, are informed that the interesting character of the illustrations, and the boldness of the type, together with the especial care devoted to its general getting up, must make this little book an immense favourite with the children,--for to teach the infant mind through pictures has ever been held an important step in their education; and to guide their minds aright it is absolutely necessary that only such books may be put into their hands as are free from every thought of evil. childhood being, of all stages of life, the most important period for the formation and cultivation of good habits, it behoves all who have the care of youth to look with suspicion on the kind of mental food offered to their acceptance. it is better to form the mind of the child, than to reform the habits of the man. "here we have tales, poems, and fables; sketches in history, biography, natural history, manners and morals, and we know not what beside; with cuts of birds, beasts, and fishes; remarkable men, and remarkable places, head-pieces and tail-pieces, and ornamental letters out of number: every page a picture-gallery, and every picture rendered instructive and suggestive of good. a capital book! such a treat for our boys!"--_maidstone gazette._ ------ the fireside companion;--a literary, biographical, and anecdotical book for all seasons; being a series of tales, sketches, poems, biographies, essays, anecdotes, &c, &c. illustrated with numerous engravings. _demy vo. cloth, gilt edges, price s. d._ ------ _just published_, don quixote de la mancha. from the spanish of miguel cervantes saavedra. carefully revised and corrected. embellished with nearly eight hundred engravings, after original designs by tony johannot. printed on fine paper, in two volumes, royal octavo, elegantly bound in ultra-marine blue, gilt edges, price twenty-one shillings; or the two volumes bound in one, price eighteen shillings. also a cheaper edition with the same engravings, demy octavo, two volumes bound in one, price ten shillings, and sixpence. "this marvellous production of cervantes will always be popular, and more particularly if, as in the present case, it be profusely illustrated by such a master-hand as tony johannot. we are at a loss which to admire or to laugh at the most, the text or the engravings."--_windsor express._ ------ sterne's sentimental journey through france and italy. with a memoir of the author, by e. l. blanchard. with numerous engravings. "a more graceful gift book has seldom appeared than the one in which we here find reprinted not the least charming among the masterpieces of our national literature. laurence sterne has long been treasured among our classics; and hence any republication of his delightful writings is at all times peculiarly acceptable to the majority of our intelligent and discerning population.... mr. blanchard's charming biography is happily associated with the very tasteful and appropriate embellishments scattered through the volume, from the pencil of tony johannot. altogether the new issue of 'sterne's sentimental journey,' will prove, on examination, to be a worthy addition to any library, as well as an elegant work for the table of a drawing-room or a boudoir. the merits of the original text and of the newly-compiled memoir have been adequately responded to by the excellence visible both in the illustrations and the typography."--_the sun._ _demy vo., elegantly bound, gilt edges, price s._ ------ woman's love; a romance of smiles and tears. by g. herbert rodwell. author of "old london bridge," &c. with beautiful illustrations by alfred crowquill. _demy vo., price s._ ------ tales from the arabian nights. comprising, aladdin, or the wonderful lamp--seven voyages of sindbad the sailor--ali baba and the forty thieves; and ali cogia, the merchant--without abridgement, and embellished with one hundred and eighteen engravings. _demy vo., cloth, gilt edges, price s. d._ _publishing in parts at sixpence_, phelps's edition of the complete works of shakespeare. revised from the original text. each play accompanied by copious notes, critical, general and explanatory. produced under the immediate and personal supervision of samuel phelps esq., of the theatre royal sadler's-wells. with beautiful engravings, designed by nicholson. this edition will be completed in two handsome volumes, large royal vo., at twelve shillings and sixpence each. the first volume is ready for delivery. "assuredly the patrons of cheap and elegant standard literature will bestow their patronage on the messrs. willoughby for publishing in so spirited a manner this beautiful edition of shakespeare's works, which comes recommended to them not by one but by many attractions. there is appended to each play a carefully written historical and analytical introduction, and just a sufficient quantity of critical, general, and explanatory notes; secondly, the whole is produced under the immediate and personal supervision of the eminent shakespearian actor, mr. phelps; thirdly, it is embellished with wood engravings, executed in the best style of art, and is printed on good paper, and in a clear type; and last, though not least, it is the cheapest edition of shakespeare's works that has yet been issued to the public."--_weekly times._ ------ the history of smithfield. by thomas gaspey, esq., author of "the lollards," "life and times of the good lord cobham," &c., &c. _price one shilling, bound in cloth._ ------ _in the press, a new edition of_ tom racquet and his three maiden aunts. with a few words about "the whittleburys." by charles w. manby. with steel engravings by cruikshank. demy _ vo._ _price s., cloth, lettered._ ------ _publishing in parts at sixpence_, old london bridge; an historical romance. by george herbert rodwell. illustrated with steel engravings, by alfred ashley. "the characters are well sustained and the illustrations are well executed.'"--_oxford chronicle._ ------ life of our lord and saviour jesus christ;--being a correct and general history of our glorious redeemer, from his birth to his ascension into heaven; with the lives of the holy apostles and evangelists. by the rev. john fleetwood, d.d. embellished with splendid engravings, in outline, after the old masters, and reprinted, without abridgement, from the best edition. _demy vo. fancy cloth, gilt edges, price s._ the high price at which editions of this work have been published has prevented many persons of confined incomes from possessing it; the proprietors feel, therefore, that any apology would be quite superfluous in extenuation of their present undertaking, to place within the reach of even the humblest classes this truly valuable work, so spiritually useful, and so highly prized by every true christian. ------ works of josephus;--translated by w. whiston, a.m., with a life of the author and numerous engravings. _crown to., price s._ ------ priceless pearls for all christians;--containing the nativity, the baptism, the teachings, the miracles, the transfiguration, the crucifixion, and the resurrection of our glorious redeemer, with beautiful engravings in outline. _demy vo, cloth gilt, price s. d._ a very delightful sunday book. it consists of devout meditations on the grand subjects (of such profound and perennial interest to all christians), which are mentioned above, interspersed with pieces of sacred poetry, selected from the most celebrated religious poetry of england and america; the whole illustrated with very elegant line engravings, from pictures by some of the greatest masters, ancient and modern."--_herald of peace._ ------ dedicated, by permission, to the peace society _just published, price one shilling._ the soldier's progress: pourtrayed in six tableaux, exhibiting some of the horrors of war, from designs by john gilbert, engraved by thomas gilks; with a few words on peace and war, by elihu burritt. ------ _uniform with the soldier's progress, on fine paper, stitched in a neat wrapper, price one shilling._ the sailor's progress: pourtrayed in six tableaux, exhibiting some of the horrors of war. by john gilbert, with a few words on peace and war; by charles sumner. ------ the prize tale. _just published, handsomely bound, price s. d.; or elegantly bound in arabesque cloth, gilt edges, the engravings coloured, price s. d., the tale which obtained the prize of twenty pounds, given by the proprietors of the "people's and howitt's journal;" entitled_ the soldier's progress; pourtraying in the life of george powell, the horrors of war and the blessings of peace, by sarah symonds. "there is nothing more terrible than a victory except a defeat."--_duke of wellington._ opinions of the press. "its laudable purpose is to strip the hateful war system of its gaudy gloss; to exhibit the miserable realities of the soldier's life, as contrasted with the false notions deduced by ignorant poor people from the pomp of the parade, and the dramatic jollity of the recruiting sergeant.... it is on the whole a performance quite creditable to the fair authoress."--_weekly chronicle._ "this little volume will probably accomplish more than all the pulpits in england have effected in ten years towards creating a horror of war, the greatest crime against god which man commits. it is well-written, deeply interesting, neatly bound and illustrated."--_critic._ "a very cleverly-written story.... the book will make you weep and moralise,"--_era._ ------ the diverting historie of renard the fox;--illustrated with numerous engravings, designed by j. j. grandville. _demy mo. cloth, gilt edges, price s. d._ ------ fables for the young.--illustrated by j. j. grandville. _demy mo. cloth, gilt edges, price s. d._ ------ just published, _elegantly bound in cloth, gift edges, price s._, sterne's sentimental journey through france and italy; embellished with beautiful full page illustrations designed by tony johannot. * * * * * specimen page of "don quixote," demy vo., cloth, gilt edges, price s. d. with nearly engravings. adventures of don quixote. [illustration] have now, sir," quoth sancho to his master, "reluced my wife to consent that i should go with your worship wherever you please to carry me." "reduced, thou shouldst say, sancho," said don quixote, "and not 'reluced.'" "once or twice already," answered sancho, "i have besought your worship not to mind my words, when you know my meaning; and when you do not, say, sancho, or devil, i understand thee not; and then if i do not explain myself, you may correct me, for i am so focile."--"i do not understand thee now, sancho," said don quixote; for i know not the meaning of 'focile.'" "so focile," answered sancho, "means, i am so much so." "i understand thee still less now," replied don quixote. "why, if you do not understand me," answered sancho, "i cannot help it; i know no more, so god help me!" "o! now i have it," answered don quixote, "thou wilt say that thou art so docile, so pliant, and so tractable, that thou wilt readily comprehend whatever i say, and wilt learn whatever i shall teach thee." "i will lay a wager," quoth sancho, "you took me from the first, only you had a mind to puzzle me, that you might hear some more of my blunders." "perhaps thou mayest be right there," answered don quixote; "but tell me, what says teresa?" "teresa," quoth sancho, "says that fast bind, fast find, and that we must have less talking, and more doing: for he who shuffles is not he who cuts, and, 'a bird in the hand is worth two in the * * * * * note [ ] there is a curious scandinavian legend extant, relative to this subject. the god balder dreamt that his life, although made to be immortal, was threatened with an imminent danger. the gods agreed to exercise all the perils which might have the power of injuring balder. the goddess frigga, the mother of balder, undertook this task; and she exacted an oath from fire, from water, from all the metals, from the stones, from land, from the fishes, from all the animals, and from all the vegetables, that they would do no harm to balder. on the conclusion of this solemn compact, the deities, in one of their grand meetings, amused themselves with throwing at balder, arrows, stones, lighted torches, and with striking him tremendous blows with the sword, his invulnerability protecting him from injury. loke, an evil genius, and an enemy of the gods, in the disguise of an old woman, went to frigga, and claimed her hospitality. the kind goddess related the story of her son to the impostor, who enquired whether everything in nature, without exception, had taken the required oath. frigga replied, that there was only one small shrub, (the mistletoe,) from which she had exacted no promise, because, it being so feeble, she did not dread its power. loke then departed, and, cutting the mistletoe, converted it into a sharp pointed arrow. he returned to the assembly of the gods, darted his weapon against balder, and killed him. everything in nature wept for balder, and especially the trees, which were for a long time inconsolable.--_madame de genlis._ * * * * * changes made to printed original. pages vi, vii. pages interchanged in original. page viii. "natural or artificial": 'natural er artificial' in original. page . "as he represents the celestial regions": 'as be represents' in original. page . "distinguished by the most exquisite beauty": 'exquiste' in original. page . "arch, yet pure": 'vet' in original. page . "subdued majesty with this glad time.": 'sudued' in original. page . "who had descended": 'descdeden' in original. page . "the time of her being carried off": 'been' in original. page . "gave them additional favour": 'them them' in original. myths and myth-makers old tales and superstitions interpreted by comparative mythology by john fiske la mythologie, cette science toute nouvelle, qui nous fait suivre les croyances de nos peres, depuis le berceau du monde jusqu'aux superstitions de nos campagnes.--edmond scherer to my dear friend, william dean howells, in remembrance of pleasant autumn evenings spent among werewolves and trolls and nixies, i dedicate this record of our adventures. preface. in publishing this somewhat rambling and unsystematic series of papers, in which i have endeavoured to touch briefly upon a great many of the most important points in the study of mythology, i think it right to observe that, in order to avoid confusing the reader with intricate discussions, i have sometimes cut the matter short, expressing myself with dogmatic definiteness where a sceptical vagueness might perhaps have seemed more becoming. in treating of popular legends and superstitions, the paths of inquiry are circuitous enough, and seldom can we reach a satisfactory conclusion until we have travelled all the way around robin hood's barn and back again. i am sure that the reader would not have thanked me for obstructing these crooked lanes with the thorns and brambles of philological and antiquarian discussion, to such an extent as perhaps to make him despair of ever reaching the high road. i have not attempted to review, otherwise than incidentally, the works of grimm, muller, kuhn, breal, dasent, and tylor; nor can i pretend to have added anything of consequence, save now and then some bit of explanatory comment, to the results obtained by the labour of these scholars; but it has rather been my aim to present these results in such a way as to awaken general interest in them. and accordingly, in dealing with a subject which depends upon philology almost as much as astronomy depends upon mathematics, i have omitted philological considerations wherever it has been possible to do so. nevertheless, i believe that nothing has been advanced as established which is not now generally admitted by scholars, and that nothing has been advanced as probable for which due evidence cannot be produced. yet among many points which are proved, and many others which are probable, there must always remain many other facts of which we cannot feel sure that our own explanation is the true one; and the student who endeavours to fathom the primitive thoughts of mankind, as enshrined in mythology, will do well to bear in mind the modest words of jacob grimm,--himself the greatest scholar and thinker who has ever dealt with this class of subjects,--"i shall indeed interpret all that i can, but i cannot interpret all that i should like." petersham, september , . contents. i. the origins of folk-lore ii. the descent of fire iii. werewolves and swan-maidens iv. light and darkness v. myths of the barbaric world vi. juventus mundi vii. the primeval ghost-world note myths and myth-makers. i. the origins of folk-lore. few mediaeval heroes are so widely known as william tell. his exploits have been celebrated by one of the greatest poets and one of the most popular musicians of modern times. they are doubtless familiar to many who have never heard of stauffacher or winkelried, who are quite ignorant of the prowess of roland, and to whom arthur and lancelot, nay, even charlemagne, are but empty names. nevertheless, in spite of his vast reputation, it is very likely that no such person as william tell ever existed, and it is certain that the story of his shooting the apple from his son's head has no historical value whatever. in spite of the wrath of unlearned but patriotic swiss, especially of those of the cicerone class, this conclusion is forced upon us as soon as we begin to study the legend in accordance with the canons of modern historical criticism. it is useless to point to tell's lime-tree, standing to-day in the centre of the market-place at altdorf, or to quote for our confusion his crossbow preserved in the arsenal at zurich, as unimpeachable witnesses to the truth of the story. it is in vain that we are told, "the bricks are alive to this day to testify to it; therefore, deny it not." these proofs are not more valid than the handkerchief of st. veronica, or the fragments of the true cross. for if relics are to be received as evidence, we must needs admit the truth of every miracle narrated by the bollandists. the earliest work which makes any allusion to the adventures of william tell is the chronicle of the younger melchior russ, written in . as the shooting of the apple was supposed to have taken place in , this leaves an interval of one hundred and eighty-six years, during which neither a tell, nor a william, nor the apple, nor the cruelty of gessler, received any mention. it may also be observed, parenthetically, that the charters of kussenach, when examined, show that no man by the name of gessler ever ruled there. the chroniclers of the fifteenth century, faber and hammerlin, who minutely describe the tyrannical acts by which the duke of austria goaded the swiss to rebellion, do not once mention tell's name, or betray the slightest acquaintance with his exploits or with his existence. in the zurich chronicle of he is not alluded to. but we have still better negative evidence. john of winterthur, one of the best chroniclers of the middle ages, was living at the time of the battle of morgarten ( ), at which his father was present. he tells us how, on the evening of that dreadful day, he saw duke leopold himself in his flight from the fatal field, half dead with fear. he describes, with the loving minuteness of a contemporary, all the incidents of the swiss revolution, but nowhere does he say a word about william tell. this is sufficiently conclusive. these mediaeval chroniclers, who never failed to go out of their way after a bit of the epigrammatic and marvellous, who thought far more of a pointed story than of historical credibility, would never have kept silent about the adventures of tell, if they had known anything about them. after this, it is not surprising to find that no two authors who describe the deeds of william tell agree in the details of topography and chronology. such discrepancies never fail to confront us when we leave the solid ground of history and begin to deal with floating legends. yet, if the story be not historical, what could have been its origin? to answer this question we must considerably expand the discussion. the first author of any celebrity who doubted the story of william tell was guillimann, in his work on swiss antiquities, published in . he calls the story a pure fable, but, nevertheless, eating his words, concludes by proclaiming his belief in it, because the tale is so popular! undoubtedly he acted a wise part; for, in , as we are told, uriel freudenberger was condemned by the canton of uri to be burnt alive, for publishing his opinion that the legend of tell had a danish origin. [ ] the bold heretic was substantially right, however, like so many other heretics, earlier and later. the danish account of tell is given as follows, by saxo grammaticus:-- "a certain palnatoki, for some time among king harold's body-guard, had made his bravery odious to very many of his fellow-soldiers by the zeal with which he surpassed them in the discharge of his duty. this man once, when talking tipsily over his cups, had boasted that he was so skilled an archer that he could hit the smallest apple placed a long way off on a wand at the first shot; which talk, caught up at first by the ears of backbiters, soon came to the hearing of the king. now, mark how the wickedness of the king turned the confidence of the sire to the peril of the son, by commanding that this dearest pledge of his life should be placed instead of the wand, with a threat that, unless the author of this promise could strike off the apple at the first flight of the arrow, he should pay the penalty of his empty boasting by the loss of his head. the king's command forced the soldier to perform more than he had promised, and what he had said, reported, by the tongues of slanderers, bound him to accomplish what he had not said. yet did not his sterling courage, though caught in the snare of slander, suffer him to lay aside his firmness of heart; nay, he accepted the trial the more readily because it was hard. so palnatoki warned the boy urgently when he took his stand to await the coming of the hurtling arrow with calm ears and unbent head, lest, by a slight turn of his body, he should defeat the practised skill of the bowman; and, taking further counsel to prevent his fear, he turned away his face, lest he should be scared at the sight of the weapon. then, taking three arrows from the quiver, he struck the mark given him with the first he fitted to the string..... but palnatoki, when asked by the king why he had taken more arrows from the quiver, when it had been settled that he should only try the fortune of the bow once, made answer, 'that i might avenge on thee the swerving of the first by the points of the rest, lest perchance my innocence might have been punished, while your violence escaped scot-free.'" [ ] this ruthless king is none other than the famous harold blue-tooth, and the occurrence is placed by saxo in the year . but the story appears not only in denmark, but in england, in norway, in finland and russia, and in persia, and there is some reason for supposing that it was known in india. in norway we have the adventures of pansa the splay-footed, and of hemingr, a vassal of harold hardrada, who invaded england in . in iceland there is the kindred legend of egil brother of wayland smith, the norse vulcan. in england there is the ballad of william of cloudeslee, which supplied scott with many details of the archery scene in "ivanhoe." here, says the dauntless bowman, "i have a sonne seven years old; hee is to me full deere; i will tye him to a stake-- all shall see him that bee here-- and lay an apple upon his head, and goe six paces him froe, and i myself with a broad arrowe shall cleave the apple in towe." in the malleus maleficarum a similar story is told puncher, a famous magician on the upper rhine. the great ethnologist castren dug up the same legend in finland. it is common, as dr. dasent observes, to the turks and mongolians; "and a legend of the wild samoyeds, who never heard of tell or saw a book in their lives relates it, chapter and verse, of one of their marksmen." finally, in the persian poem of farid-uddin attar, born in , we read a story of a prince who shoots an apple from the head of a beloved page. in all these stories, names and motives of course differ; but all contain the same essential incidents. it is always an unerring archer who, at the capricious command of a tyrant, shoots from the head of some one dear to him a small object, be it an apple, a nut, or a piece of coin. the archer always provides himself with a second arrow, and, when questioned as to the use he intended to make of his extra weapon, the invariable reply is, "to kill thee, tyrant, had i slain my son." now, when a marvellous occurrence is said to have happened everywhere, we may feel sure that it never happened anywhere. popular fancies propagate themselves indefinitely, but historical events, especially the striking and dramatic ones, are rarely repeated. the facts here collected lead inevitably to the conclusion that the tell myth was known, in its general features, to our aryan ancestors, before ever they left their primitive dwelling-place in central asia. it may, indeed, be urged that some one of these wonderful marksmen may really have existed and have performed the feat recorded in the legend; and that his true story, carried about by hearsay tradition from one country to another and from age to age, may have formed the theme for all the variations above mentioned, just as the fables of la fontaine were patterned after those of aesop and phaedrus, and just as many of chaucer's tales were consciously adopted from boccaccio. no doubt there has been a good deal of borrowing and lending among the legends of different peoples, as well as among the words of different languages; and possibly even some picturesque fragment of early history may have now and then been carried about the world in this manner. but as the philologist can with almost unerring certainty distinguish between the native and the imported words in any aryan language, by examining their phonetic peculiarities, so the student of popular traditions, though working with far less perfect instruments, can safely assert, with reference to a vast number of legends, that they cannot have been obtained by any process of conscious borrowing. the difficulties inseparable from any such hypothesis will become more and more apparent as we proceed to examine a few other stories current in different portions of the aryan domain. as the swiss must give up his tell, so must the welshman be deprived of his brave dog gellert, over whose cruel fate i confess to having shed more tears than i should regard as well bestowed upon the misfortunes of many a human hero of romance. every one knows how the dear old brute killed the wolf which had come to devour llewellyn's child, and how the prince, returning home and finding the cradle upset and the dog's mouth dripping blood, hastily slew his benefactor, before the cry of the child from behind the cradle and the sight of the wolf's body had rectified his error. to this day the visitor to snowdon is told the touching story, and shown the place, called beth-gellert, [ ] where the dog's grave is still to be seen. nevertheless, the story occurs in the fireside lore of nearly every aryan people. under the gellert-form it started in the panchatantra, a collection of sanskrit fables; and it has even been discovered in a chinese work which dates from a. d. . usually the hero is a dog, but sometimes a falcon, an ichneumon, an insect, or even a man. in egypt it takes the following comical shape: "a wali once smashed a pot full of herbs which a cook had prepared. the exasperated cook thrashed the well-intentioned but unfortunate wali within an inch of his life, and when he returned, exhausted with his efforts at belabouring the man, to examine the broken pot, he discovered amongst the herbs a poisonous snake." [ ] now this story of the wali is as manifestly identical with the legend of gellert as the english word father is with the latin pater; but as no one would maintain that the word father is in any sense derived from pater, so it would be impossible to represent either the welsh or the egyptian legend as a copy of the other. obviously the conclusion is forced upon us that the stories, like the words, are related collaterally, having descended from a common ancestral legend, or having been suggested by one and the same primeval idea. closely connected with the gellert myth are the stories of faithful john and of rama and luxman. in the german story, faithful john accompanies the prince, his master, on a journey in quest of a beautiful maiden, whom he wishes to make his bride. as they are carrying her home across the seas, faithful john hears some crows, whose language he understands, foretelling three dangers impending over the prince, from which his friend can save him only by sacrificing his own life. as soon as they land, a horse will spring toward the king, which, if he mounts it, will bear him away from his bride forever; but whoever shoots the horse, and tells the king the reason, will be turned into stone from toe to knee. then, before the wedding a bridal garment will lie before the king, which, if he puts it on, will burn him like the nessos-shirt of herakles; but whoever throws the shirt into the fire and tells the king the reason, will be turned into stone from knee to heart. finally, during the wedding-festivities, the queen will suddenly fall in a swoon, and "unless some one takes three drops of blood from her right breast she will die"; but whoever does so, and tells the king the reason, will be turned into stone from head to foot. thus forewarned, faithful john saves his master from all these dangers; but the king misinterprets his motive in bleeding his wife, and orders him to be hanged. on the scaffold he tells his story, and while the king humbles himself in an agony of remorse, his noble friend is turned into stone. in the south indian tale luxman accompanies rama, who is carrying home his bride. luxman overhears two owls talking about the perils that await his master and mistress. first he saves them from being crushed by the falling limb of a banyan-tree, and then he drags them away from an arch which immediately after gives way. by and by, as they rest under a tree, the king falls asleep. a cobra creeps up to the queen, and luxman kills it with his sword; but, as the owls had foretold, a drop of the cobra's blood falls on the queen's forehead. as luxman licks off the blood, the king starts up, and, thinking that his vizier is kissing his wife, upbraids him with his ingratitude, whereupon luxman, through grief at this unkind interpretation of his conduct, is turned into stone. [ ] for further illustration we may refer to the norse tale of the "giant who had no heart in his body," as related by dr. dasent. this burly magician having turned six brothers with their wives into stone, the seventh brother--the crafty boots or many-witted odysseus of european folk-lore--sets out to obtain vengeance if not reparation for the evil done to his kith and kin. on the way he shows the kindness of his nature by rescuing from destruction a raven, a salmon, and a wolf. the grateful wolf carries him on his back to the giant's castle, where the lovely princess whom the monster keeps in irksome bondage promises to act, in behalf of boots, the part of delilah, and to find out, if possible, where her lord keeps his heart. the giant, like the jewish hero, finally succumbs to feminine blandishments. "far, far away in a lake lies an island; on that island stands a church; in that church is a well; in that well swims a duck; in that duck there is an egg; and in that egg there lies my heart, you darling." boots, thus instructed, rides on the wolf's back to the island; the raven flies to the top of the steeple and gets the church-keys; the salmon dives to the bottom of the well, and brings up the egg from the place where the duck had dropped it; and so boots becomes master of the situation. as he squeezes the egg, the giant, in mortal terror, begs and prays for his life, which boots promises to spare on condition that his brothers and their brides should be released from their enchantment. but when all has been duly effected, the treacherous youth squeezes the egg in two, and the giant instantly bursts. the same story has lately been found in southern india, and is published in miss frere's remarkable collection of tales entitled "old deccan days." in the hindu version the seven daughters of a rajah, with their husbands, are transformed into stone by the great magician punchkin,--all save the youngest daughter, whom punchkin keeps shut up in a tower until by threats or coaxing he may prevail upon her to marry him. but the captive princess leaves a son at home in the cradle, who grows up to manhood unmolested, and finally undertakes the rescue of his family. after long and weary wanderings he finds his mother shut up in punchkin's tower, and persuades her to play the part of the princess in the norse legend. the trick is equally successful. "hundreds of thousands of miles away there lies a desolate country covered with thick jungle. in the midst of the jungle grows a circle of palm-trees, and in the centre of the circle stand six jars full of water, piled one above another; below the sixth jar is a small cage which contains a little green parrot; on the life of the parrot depends my life, and if the parrot is killed i must die." [ ] the young prince finds the place guarded by a host of dragons, but some eaglets whom he has saved from a devouring serpent in the course of his journey take him on their crossed wings and carry him to the place where the jars are standing. he instantly overturns the jars, and seizing the parrot, obtains from the terrified magician full reparation. as soon as his own friends and a stately procession of other royal or noble victims have been set at liberty, he proceeds to pull the parrot to pieces. as the wings and legs come away, so tumble off the arms and legs of the magician; and finally as the prince wrings the bird's neck, punchkin twists his own head round and dies. the story is also told in the highlands of scotland, and some portions of it will be recognized by the reader as incidents in the arabian tale of the princess parizade. the union of close correspondence in conception with manifest independence in the management of the details of these stories is striking enough, but it is a phenomenon with which we become quite familiar as we proceed in the study of aryan popular literature. the legend of the master thief is no less remarkable than that of punchkin. in the scandinavian tale the thief, wishing to get possession of a farmer's ox, carefully hangs himself to a tree by the roadside. the farmer, passing by with his ox, is indeed struck by the sight of the dangling body, but thinks it none of his business, and does not stop to interfere. no sooner has he passed than the thief lets himself down, and running swiftly along a by-path, hangs himself with equal precaution to a second tree. this time the farmer is astonished and puzzled; but when for the third time he meets the same unwonted spectacle, thinking that three suicides in one morning are too much for easy credence, he leaves his ox and runs back to see whether the other two bodies are really where he thought he saw them. while he is framing hypotheses of witchcraft by which to explain the phenomenon, the thief gets away with the ox. in the hitopadesa the story receives a finer point. "a brahman, who had vowed a sacrifice, went to the market to buy a goat. three thieves saw him, and wanted to get hold of the goat. they stationed themselves at intervals on the high road. when the brahman, who carried the goat on his back, approached the first thief, the thief said, 'brahman, why do you carry a dog on your back?' the brahman replied, 'it is not a dog, it is a goat.' a little while after he was accosted by the second thief, who said, 'brahman, why do you carry a dog on your back?' the brahman felt perplexed, put the goat down, examined it, took it up again, and walked on. soon after he was stopped by the third thief, who said, 'brahman, why do you carry a dog on your back?' then the brahman was frightened, threw down the goat, and walked home to perform his ablutions for having touched an unclean animal. the thieves took the goat and ate it." the adroitness of the norse king in "the three princesses of whiteland" shows but poorly in comparison with the keen psychological insight and cynical sarcasm of these hindu sharpers. in the course of his travels this prince met three brothers fighting on a lonely moor. they had been fighting for a hundred years about the possession of a hat, a cloak, and a pair of boots, which would make the wearer invisible, and convey him instantly whithersoever he might wish to go. the king consents to act as umpire, provided he may once try the virtue of the magic garments; but once clothed in them, of course he disappears, leaving the combatants to sit down and suck their thumbs. now in the "sea of streams of story," written in the twelfth century by somadeva of cashmere, the indian king putraka, wandering in the vindhya mountains, similarly discomfits two brothers who are quarrelling over a pair of shoes, which are like the sandals of hermes, and a bowl which has the same virtue as aladdin's lamp. "why don't you run a race for them?" suggests putraka; and, as the two blockheads start furiously off, he quietly picks up the bowl, ties on the shoes, and flies away! [ ] it is unnecessary to cite further illustrations. the tales here quoted are fair samples of the remarkable correspondence which holds good through all the various sections of aryan folk-lore. the hypothesis of lateral diffusion, as we may call it, manifestly fails to explain coincidences which are maintained on such an immense scale. it is quite credible that one nation may have borrowed from another a solitary legend of an archer who performs the feats of tell and palnatoki; but it is utterly incredible that ten thousand stories, constituting the entire mass of household mythology throughout a dozen separate nations, should have been handed from one to another in this way. no one would venture to suggest that the old grannies of iceland and norway, to whom we owe such stories as the master thief and the princesses of whiteland, had ever read somadeva or heard of the treasures of rhampsinitos. a large proportion of the tales with which we are dealing were utterly unknown to literature until they were taken down by grimm and frere and castren and campbell, from the lips of ignorant peasants, nurses, or house-servants, in germany and hindustan, in siberia and scotland. yet, as mr. cox observes, these old men and women, sitting by the chimney-corner and somewhat timidly recounting to the literary explorer the stories which they had learned in childhood from their own nurses and grandmas, "reproduce the most subtle turns of thought and expression, and an endless series of complicated narratives, in which the order of incidents and the words of the speakers are preserved with a fidelity nowhere paralleled in the oral tradition of historical events. it may safely be said that no series of stories introduced in the form of translations from other languages could ever thus have filtered down into the lowest strata of society, and thence have sprung up again, like antaios, with greater energy and heightened beauty." there is indeed no alternative for us but to admit that these fireside tales have been handed down from parent to child for more than a hundred generations; that the primitive aryan cottager, as he took his evening meal of yava and sipped his fermented mead, listened with his children to the stories of boots and cinderella and the master thief, in the days when the squat laplander was master of europe and the dark-skinned sudra was as yet unmolested in the punjab. only such community of origin can explain the community in character between the stories told by the aryan's descendants, from the jungles of ceylon to the highlands of scotland. this conclusion essentially modifies our view of the origin and growth of a legend like that of william tell. the case of the tell legend is radically different from the case of the blindness of belisarius or the burning of the alexandrian library by order of omar. the latter are isolated stories or beliefs; the former is one of a family of stories or beliefs. the latter are untrustworthy traditions of doubtful events; but in dealing with the former, we are face to face with a myth. what, then, is a myth? the theory of euhemeros, which was so fashionable a century ago, in the days of the abbe banier, has long since been so utterly abandoned that to refute it now is but to slay the slain. the peculiarity of this theory was that it cut away all the extraordinary features of a given myth, wherein dwelt its inmost significance, and to the dull and useless residuum accorded the dignity of primeval history. in this way the myth was lost without compensation, and the student, in seeking good digestible bread, found but the hardest of pebbles. considered merely as a pretty story, the legend of the golden fruit watched by the dragon in the garden of the hesperides is not without its value. but what merit can there be in the gratuitous statement which, degrading the grand doric hero to a level with any vulgar fruit-stealer, makes herakles break a close with force and arms, and carry off a crop of oranges which had been guarded by mastiffs? it is still worse when we come to the more homely folk-lore with which the student of mythology now has to deal. the theories of banier, which limped and stumbled awkwardly enough when it was only a question of hermes and minos and odin, have fallen never to rise again since the problems of punchkin and cinderella and the blue belt have begun to demand solution. the conclusion has been gradually forced upon the student, that the marvellous portion of these old stories is no illegitimate extres-cence, but was rather the pith and centre of the whole, [ ] in days when there was no supernatural, because it had not yet been discovered that there was such a thing as nature. the religious myths of antiquity and the fireside legends of ancient and modern times have their common root in the mental habits of primeval humanity. they are the earliest recorded utterances of men concerning the visible phenomena of the world into which they were born. that prosaic and coldly rational temper with which modern men are wont to regard natural phenomena was in early times unknown. we have come to regard all events as taking place regularly, in strict conformity to law: whatever our official theories may be, we instinctively take this view of things. but our primitive ancestors knew nothing about laws of nature, nothing about physical forces, nothing about the relations of cause and effect, nothing about the necessary regularity of things. there was a time in the history of mankind when these things had never been inquired into, and when no generalizations about them had been framed, tested, or established. there was no conception of an order of nature, and therefore no distinct conception of a supernatural order of things. there was no belief in miracles as infractions of natural laws, but there was a belief in the occurrence of wonderful events too mighty to have been brought about by ordinary means. there was an unlimited capacity for believing and fancying, because fancy and belief had not yet been checked and headed off in various directions by established rules of experience. physical science is a very late acquisition of the human mind, but we are already sufficiently imbued with it to be almost completely disabled from comprehending the thoughts of our ancestors. "how finn cosmogonists could have believed the earth and heaven to be made out of a severed egg, the upper concave shell representing heaven, the yolk being earth, and the crystal surrounding fluid the circumambient ocean, is to us incomprehensible; and yet it remains a fact that they did so regard them. how the scandinavians could have supposed the mountains to be the mouldering bones of a mighty jotun, and the earth to be his festering flesh, we cannot conceive; yet such a theory was solemnly taught and accepted. how the ancient indians could regard the rain-clouds as cows with full udders milked by the winds of heaven is beyond our comprehension, and yet their veda contains indisputable testimony to the fact that they were so regarded." we have only to read mr. baring-gould's book of "curious myths," from which i have just quoted, or to dip into mr. thorpe's treatise on "northern mythology," to realize how vast is the difference between our stand-point and that from which, in the later middle ages, our immediate forefathers regarded things. the frightful superstition of werewolves is a good instance. in those days it was firmly believed that men could be, and were in the habit of being, transformed into wolves. it was believed that women might bring forth snakes or poodle-dogs. it was believed that if a man had his side pierced in battle, you could cure him by nursing the sword which inflicted the wound. "as late as a german writer would illustrate a thunder-storm destroying a crop of corn by a picture of a dragon devouring the produce of the field with his flaming tongue and iron teeth." now if such was the condition of the human intellect only three or four centuries ago, what must it have been in that dark antiquity when not even the crudest generalizations of greek or of oriental science had been reached? the same mighty power of imagination which now, restrained and guided by scientific principles, leads us to discoveries and inventions, must then have wildly run riot in mythologic fictions whereby to explain the phenomena of nature. knowing nothing whatever of physical forces, of the blind steadiness with which a given effect invariably follows its cause, the men of primeval antiquity could interpret the actions of nature only after the analogy of their own actions. the only force they knew was the force of which they were directly conscious,--the force of will. accordingly, they imagined all the outward world to be endowed with volition, and to be directed by it. they personified everything,--sky, clouds, thunder, sun, moon, ocean, earthquake, whirlwind. [ ] the comparatively enlightened athenians of the age of perikles addressed the sky as a person, and prayed to it to rain upon their gardens. [ ] and for calling the moon a mass of dead matter, anaxagoras came near losing his life. to the ancients the moon was not a lifeless ball of stones and clods: it was the horned huntress, artemis, coursing through the upper ether, or bathing herself in the clear lake; or it was aphrodite, protectress of lovers, born of the sea-foam in the east near cyprus. the clouds were no bodies of vaporized water: they were cows with swelling udders, driven to the milking by hermes, the summer wind; or great sheep with moist fleeces, slain by the unerring arrows of bellerophon, the sun; or swan-maidens, flitting across the firmament, valkyries hovering over the battle-field to receive the souls of falling heroes; or, again, they were mighty mountains piled one above another, in whose cavernous recesses the divining-wand of the storm-god thor revealed hidden treasures. the yellow-haired sun, phoibos, drove westerly all day in his flaming chariot; or perhaps, as meleagros, retired for a while in disgust from the sight of men; wedded at eventide the violet light (oinone, iole), which he had forsaken in the morning; sank, as herakles, upon a blazing funeral-pyre, or, like agamemnon, perished in a blood-stained bath; or, as the fish-god, dagon, swam nightly through the subterranean waters, to appear eastward again at daybreak. sometimes phaethon, his rash, inexperienced son, would take the reins and drive the solar chariot too near the earth, causing the fruits to perish, and the grass to wither, and the wells to dry up. sometimes, too, the great all-seeing divinity, in his wrath at the impiety of men, would shoot down his scorching arrows, causing pestilence to spread over the land. still other conceptions clustered around the sun. now it was the wonderful treasure-house, into which no one could look and live; and again it was ixion himself, bound on the fiery wheel in punishment for violence offered to here, the queen of the blue air. this theory of ancient mythology is not only beautiful and plausible, it is, in its essential points, demonstrated. it stands on as firm a foundation as grimm's law in philology, or the undulatory theory in molecular physics. it is philology which has here enabled us to read the primitive thoughts of mankind. a large number of the names of greek gods and heroes have no meaning in the greek language; but these names occur also in sanskrit, with plain physical meanings. in the veda we find zeus or jupiter (dyaus-pitar) meaning the sky, and sarameias or hermes, meaning the breeze of a summer morning. we find athene (ahana), meaning the light of daybreak; and we are thus enabled to understand why the greek described her as sprung from the forehead of zeus. there too we find helena (sarama), the fickle twilight, whom the panis, or night-demons, who serve as the prototypes of the hellenic paris, strive to seduce from her allegiance to the solar monarch. even achilleus (aharyu) again confronts us, with his captive briseis (brisaya's offspring); and the fierce kerberos (carvara) barks on vedic ground in strict conformity to the laws of phonetics. [ ] now, when the hindu talked about father dyaus, or the sleek kine of siva, he thought of the personified sky and clouds; he had not outgrown the primitive mental habits of the race. but the greek, in whose language these physical meanings were lost, had long before the homeric epoch come to regard zeus and hermes, athene, helena, paris, and achilleus, as mere persons, and in most cases the originals of his myths were completely forgotten. in the vedas the trojan war is carried on in the sky, between the bright deities and the demons of night; but the greek poet, influenced perhaps by some dim historical tradition, has located the contest on the shore of the hellespont, and in his mind the actors, though superhuman, are still completely anthropomorphic. of the true origin of his epic story he knew as little as euhemeros, or lord bacon, or the abbe banier. after these illustrations, we shall run no risk of being misunderstood when we define a myth as, in its origin, an explanation, by the uncivilized mind, of some natural phenomenon; not an allegory, not an esoteric symbol,--for the ingenuity is wasted which strives to detect in myths the remnants of a refined primeval science,--but an explanation. primitive men had no profound science to perpetuate by means of allegory, nor were they such sorry pedants as to talk in riddles when plain language would serve their purpose. their minds, we may be sure, worked like our own, and when they spoke of the far-darting sun-god, they meant just what they said, save that where we propound a scientific theorem, they constructed a myth. [ ] a thing is said to be explained when it is classified with other things with which we are already acquainted. that is the only kind of explanation of which the highest science is capable. we explain the origin, progress, and ending of a thunder-storm, when we classify the phenomena presented by it along with other more familiar phenomena of vaporization and condensation. but the primitive man explained the same thing to his own satisfaction when he had classified it along with the well-known phenomena of human volition, by constructing a theory of a great black dragon pierced by the unerring arrows of a heavenly archer. we consider the nature of the stars to a certain extent explained when they are classified as suns; but the mohammedan compiler of the "mishkat-ul-ma'sabih" was content to explain them as missiles useful for stoning the devil! now, as soon as the old greek, forgetting the source of his conception, began to talk of a human oidipous slaying a leonine sphinx, and as soon as the mussulman began, if he ever did, to tell his children how the devil once got a good pelting with golden bullets, then both the one and the other were talking pure mythology. we are justified, accordingly, in distinguishing between a myth and a legend. though the words are etymologically parallel, and though in ordinary discourse we may use them interchangeably, yet when strict accuracy is required, it is well to keep them separate. and it is perhaps needless, save for the sake of completeness, to say that both are to be distinguished from stories which have been designedly fabricated. the distinction may occasionally be subtle, but is usually broad enough. thus, the story that philip ii. murdered his wife elizabeth, is a misrepresentation; but the story that the same elizabeth was culpably enamoured of her step-son don carlos, is a legend. the story that queen eleanor saved the life of her husband, edward i., by sucking a wound made in his arm by a poisoned arrow, is a legend; but the story that hercules killed a great robber, cacus, who had stolen his cattle, conceals a physical meaning, and is a myth. while a legend is usually confined to one or two localities, and is told of not more than one or two persons, it is characteristic of a myth that it is spread, in one form or another, over a large part of the earth, the leading incidents remaining constant, while the names and often the motives vary with each locality. this is partly due to the immense antiquity of myths, dating as they do from a period when many nations, now widely separated, had not yet ceased to form one people. thus many elements of the myth of the trojan war are to be found in the rig-veda; and the myth of st. george and the dragon is found in all the aryan nations. but we must not always infer that myths have a common descent, merely because they resemble each other. we must remember that the proceedings of the uncultivated mind are more or less alike in all latitudes, and that the same phenomenon might in various places independently give rise to similar stories. [ ] the myth of jack and the beanstalk is found not only among people of aryan descent, but also among the zulus of south africa, and again among the american indians. whenever we can trace a story in this way from one end of the world to the other, or through a whole family of kindred nations, we are pretty safe in assuming that we are dealing with a true myth, and not with a mere legend. applying these considerations to the tell myth, we at once obtain a valid explanation of its origin. the conception of infallible skill in archery, which underlies such a great variety of myths and popular fairy-tales, is originally derived from the inevitable victory of the sun over his enemies, the demons of night, winter, and tempest. arrows and spears which never miss their mark, swords from whose blow no armour can protect, are invariably the weapons of solar divinities or heroes. the shafts of bellerophon never fail to slay the black demon of the rain-cloud, and the bolt of phoibos chrysaor deals sure destruction to the serpent of winter. odysseus, warring against the impious night-heroes, who have endeavoured throughout ten long years or hours of darkness to seduce from her allegiance his twilight-bride, the weaver of the never-finished web of violet clouds,--odysseus, stripped of his beggar's raiment and endowed with fresh youth and beauty by the dawn-goddess, athene, engages in no doubtful conflict as he raises the bow which none but himself can bend. nor is there less virtue in the spear of achilleus, in the swords of perseus and sigurd, in roland's stout blade durandal, or in the brand excalibur, with which sir bedivere was so loath to part. all these are solar weapons, and so, too, are the arrows of tell and palnatoki, egil and hemingr, and william of cloudeslee, whose surname proclaims him an inhabitant of the phaiakian land. william tell, whether of cloudland or of altdorf, is the last reflection of the beneficent divinity of daytime and summer, constrained for a while to obey the caprice of the powers of cold and darkness, as apollo served laomedon, and herakles did the bidding of eurystheus. his solar character is well preserved, even in the sequel of the swiss legend, in which he appears no less skilful as a steersman than as an archer, and in which, after traversing, like dagon, the tempestuous sea of night, he leaps at daybreak in regained freedom upon the land, and strikes down the oppressor who has held him in bondage. but the sun, though ever victorious in open contest with his enemies, is nevertheless not invulnerable. at times he succumbs to treachery, is bound by the frost-giants, or slain by the demons of darkness. the poisoned shirt of the cloud-fiend nessos is fatal even to the mighty herakles, and the prowess of siegfried at last fails to save him from the craft of hagen. in achilleus and meleagros we see the unhappy solar hero doomed to toil for the profit of others, and to be cut off by an untimely death. the more fortunate odysseus, who lives to a ripe old age, and triumphs again and again over all the powers of darkness, must nevertheless yield to the craving desire to visit new cities and look upon new works of strange men, until at last he is swallowed up in the western sea. that the unrivalled navigator of the celestial ocean should disappear beneath the western waves is as intelligible as it is that the horned venus or astarte should rise from the sea in the far east. it is perhaps less obvious that winter should be so frequently symbolized as a thorn or sharp instrument. achilleus dies by an arrow-wound in the heel; the thigh of adonis is pierced by the boar's tusk, while odysseus escapes with an ugly scar, which afterwards secures his recognition by his old servant, the dawn-nymph eurykleia; sigurd is slain by a thorn, and balder by a sharp sprig of mistletoe; and in the myth of the sleeping beauty, the earth-goddess sinks into her long winter sleep when pricked by the point of the spindle. in her cosmic palace, all is locked in icy repose, naught thriving save the ivy which defies the cold, until the kiss of the golden-haired sun-god reawakens life and activity. the wintry sleep of nature is symbolized in innumerable stories of spell-bound maidens and fair-featured youths, saints, martyrs, and heroes. sometimes it is the sun, sometimes the earth, that is supposed to slumber. among the american indians the sun-god michabo is said to sleep through the winter months; and at the time of the falling leaves, by way of composing himself for his nap, he fills his great pipe and divinely smokes; the blue clouds, gently floating over the landscape, fill the air with the haze of indian summer. in the greek myth the shepherd endymion preserves his freshness in a perennial slumber. the german siegfried, pierced by the thorn of winter, is sleeping until he shall be again called forth to fight. in switzerland, by the vierwald-stattersee, three tells are awaiting the hour when their country shall again need to be delivered from the oppressor. charlemagne is reposing in the untersberg, sword in hand, waiting for the coming of antichrist; olger danske similarly dreams away his time in avallon; and in a lofty mountain in thuringia, the great emperor yrederic barbarossa slumbers with his knights around him, until the time comes for him to sally forth and raise germany to the first rank among the kingdoms of the world. the same story is told of olaf tryggvesson, of don sebastian of portugal, and of the moorish king boabdil. the seven sleepers of ephesus, having taken refuge in a cave from the persecutions of the heathen decius, slept one hundred and sixty-four years, and awoke to find a christian emperor on the throne. the monk of hildesheim, in the legend so beautifully rendered by longfellow, doubting how with god a thousand years ago could be as yesterday, listened three minutes entranced by the singing of a bird in the forest, and found, on waking from his revery, that a thousand years had flown. to the same family of legends belong the notion that st. john is sleeping at ephesus until the last days of the world; the myth of the enchanter merlin, spell-bound by vivien; the story of the cretan philosopher epimenides, who dozed away fifty-seven years in a cave; and rip van winkle's nap in the catskills. [ ] we might go on almost indefinitely citing household tales of wonderful sleepers; but, on the principle of the association of opposites, we are here reminded of sundry cases of marvellous life and wakefulness, illustrated in the wandering jew; the dancers of kolbeck; joseph of arimathaea with the holy grail; the wild huntsman who to all eternity chases the red deer; the captain of the phantom ship; the classic tithonos; and the man in the moon. the lunar spots have afforded a rich subject for the play of human fancy. plutarch wrote a treatise on them, but the myth-makers had been before him. "every one," says mr. baring-gould, "knows that the moon is inhabited by a man with a bundle of sticks on his back, who has been exiled thither for many centuries, and who is so far off that he is beyond the reach of death. he has once visited this earth, if the nursery rhyme is to be credited when it asserts that 'the man in the moon came down too soon and asked his way to norwich'; but whether he ever reached that city the same authority does not state." dante calls him cain; chaucer has him put up there as a punishment for theft, and gives him a thorn-bush to carry; shakespeare also loads him with the thorns, but by way of compensation gives him a dog for a companion. ordinarily, however, his offence is stated to have been, not stealing, but sabbath-breaking,--an idea derived from the old testament. like the man mentioned in the book of numbers, he is caught gathering sticks on the sabbath; and, as an example to mankind, he is condemned to stand forever in the moon, with his bundle on his back. instead of a dog, one german version places with him a woman, whose crime was churning butter on sunday. she carries her butter-tub; and this brings us to mother goose again:-- "jack and jill went up the hill to get a pail of water. jack fell down and broke his crown, and jill came tumbling after." this may read like mere nonsense; but there is a point of view from which it may be safely said that there is very little absolute nonsense in the world. the story of jack and jill is a venerable one. in icelandic mythology we read that jack and jill were two children whom the moon once kidnapped and carried up to heaven. they had been drawing water in a bucket, which they were carrying by means of a pole placed across their shoulders; and in this attitude they have stood to the present day in the moon. even now this explanation of the moon-spots is to be heard from the mouths of swedish peasants. they fall away one after the other, as the moon wanes, and their water-pail symbolizes the supposed connection of the moon with rain-storms. other forms of the myth occur in sanskrit. the moon-goddess, or aphrodite, of the ancient germans, was called horsel, or ursula, who figures in christian mediaeval mythology as a persecuted saint, attended by a troop of eleven thousand virgins, who all suffer martyrdom as they journey from england to cologne. the meaning of the myth is obvious. in german mythology, england is the phaiakian land of clouds and phantoms; the succubus, leaving her lover before daybreak, excuses herself on the plea that "her mother is calling her in england." [ ] the companions of ursula are the pure stars, who leave the cloudland and suffer martyrdom as they approach the regions of day. in the christian tradition, ursula is the pure artemis; but, in accordance with her ancient character, she is likewise the sensual aphrodite, who haunts the venusberg; and this brings us to the story of tannhauser. the horselberg, or mountain of venus, lies in thuringia, between eisenach and gotha. high up on its slope yawns a cavern, the horselloch, or cave of venus within which is heard a muffled roar, as of subterranean water. from this cave, in old times, the frightened inhabitants of the neighbouring valley would hear at night wild moans and cries issuing, mingled with peals of demon-like laughter. here it was believed that venus held her court; "and there were not a few who declared that they had seen fair forms of female beauty beckoning them from the mouth of the chasm." [ ] tannhauser was a frankish knight and famous minnesinger, who, travelling at twilight past the horselberg, "saw a white glimmering figure of matchless beauty standing before him and beckoning him to her." leaving his horse, he went up to meet her, whom he knew to be none other than venus. he descended to her palace in the heart of the mountain, and there passed seven years in careless revelry. then, stricken with remorse and yearning for another glimpse of the pure light of day, he called in agony upon the virgin mother, who took compassion on him and released him. he sought a village church, and to priest after priest confessed his sin, without obtaining absolution, until finally he had recourse to the pope. but the holy father, horrified at the enormity of his misdoing, declared that guilt such as his could never be remitted sooner should the staff in his hand grow green and blossom. "then tannhauser, full of despair and with his soul darkened, went away, and returned to the only asylum open to him, the venusberg. but lo! three days after he had gone, pope urban discovered that his pastoral staff had put forth buds and had burst into flower. then he sent messengers after tannhauser, and they reached the horsel vale to hear that a wayworn man, with haggard brow and bowed head, had just entered the horselloch. since then tannhauser has not been seen." (p. .) as mr. baring-gould rightly observes, this sad legend, in its christianized form, is doubtless descriptive of the struggle between the new and the old faiths. the knightly tannhauser, satiated with pagan sensuality, turns to christianity for relief, but, repelled by the hypocrisy, pride, and lack of sympathy of its ministers, gives up in despair, and returns to drown his anxieties in his old debauchery. but this is not the primitive form of the myth, which recurs in the folk-lore of every people of aryan descent. who, indeed, can read it without being at once reminded of thomas of erceldoune (or horsel-hill), entranced by the sorceress of the eilden; of the nightly visits of numa to the grove of the nymph egeria; of odysseus held captive by the lady kalypso; and, last but not least, of the delightful arabian tale of prince ahmed and the peri banou? on his westward journey, odysseus is ensnared and kept in temporary bondage by the amorous nymph of darkness, kalypso (kalnptw, to veil or cover). so the zone of the moon-goddess aphrodite inveigles all-seeing zeus to treacherous slumber on mount ida; and by a similar sorcery tasso's great hero is lulled in unseemly idleness in armida's golden paradise, at the western verge of the world. the disappearance of tannhauser behind the moonlit cliff, lured by venus ursula, the pale goddess of night, is a precisely parallel circumstance. but solar and lunar phenomena are by no means the only sources of popular mythology. opposite my writing-table hangs a quaint german picture, illustrating goethe's ballad of the erlking, in which the whole wild pathos of the story is compressed into one supreme moment; we see the fearful, half-gliding rush of the erlking, his long, spectral arms outstretched to grasp the child, the frantic gallop of the horse, the alarmed father clasping his darling to his bosom in convulsive embrace, the siren-like elves hovering overhead, to lure the little soul with their weird harps. there can be no better illustration than is furnished by this terrible scene of the magic power of mythology to invest the simplest physical phenomena with the most intense human interest; for the true significance of the whole picture is contained in the father's address to his child, "sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein kind; in durren blattern sauselt der wind." the story of the piper of hamelin, well known in the version of robert browning, leads to the same conclusion. in the good people of hamelin could obtain no rest, night or day, by reason of the direful host of rats which infested their town. one day came a strange man in a bunting-suit, and offered for five hundred guilders to rid the town of the vermin. the people agreed: whereupon the man took out a pipe and piped, and instantly all the rats in town, in an army which blackened the face of the earth, came forth from their haunts, and followed the piper until he piped them to the river weser, where they alls jumped in and were drowned. but as soon as the torment was gone, the townsfolk refused to pay the piper on the ground that he was evidently a wizard. he went away, vowing vengeance, and on st. john's day reappeared, and putting his pipe to his mouth blew a different air. whereat all the little, plump, rosy-cheeked, golden-haired children came merrily running after him, their parents standing aghast, not knowing what to do, while he led them up a hill in the neighbourhood. a door opened in the mountain-side, through which he led them in, and they never were seen again; save one lame boy, who hobbled not fast enough to get in before the door shut, and who lamented for the rest of his life that he had not been able to share the rare luck of his comrades. in the street through which this procession passed no music was ever afterwards allowed to be played. for a long time the town dated its public documents from this fearful calamity, and many authorities have treated it as an historical event. [ ] similar stories are told of other towns in germany, and, strange to say, in remote abyssinia also. wesleyan peasants in england believe that angels pipe to children who are about to die; and in scandinavia, youths are said to have been enticed away by the songs of elf-maidens. in greece, the sirens by their magic lay allured voyagers to destruction; and orpheus caused the trees and dumb beasts to follow him. here we reach the explanation. for orpheus is the wind sighing through untold acres of pine forest. "the piper is no other than the wind, and the ancients held that in the wind were the souls of the dead." to this day the english peasantry believe that they hear the wail of the spirits of unbaptized children, as the gale sweeps past their cottage doors. the greek hermes resulted from the fusion of two deities. he is the sun and also the wind; and in the latter capacity he bears away the souls of the dead. so the norse odin, who like hermes fillfils a double function, is supposed to rush at night over the tree-tops, "accompanied by the scudding train of brave men's spirits." and readers of recent french literature cannot fail to remember erokmann-chatrian's terrible story of the wild huntsman vittikab, and how he sped through the forest, carrying away a young girl's soul. thus, as tannhauser is the northern ulysses, so is goethe's erlking none other than the piper of hamelin. and the piper, in turn, is the classic hermes or orpheus, the counterpart of the finnish wainamoinen and the sanskrit gunadhya. his wonderful pipe is the horn of oberon, the lyre of apollo (who, like the piper, was a rat-killer), the harp stolen by jack when he climbed the bean-stalk to the ogre's castle. [ ] and the father, in goethe's ballad, is no more than right when he assures his child that the siren voice which tempts him is but the rustle of the wind among the dried leaves; for from such a simple class of phenomena arose this entire family of charming legends. but why does the piper, who is a leader of souls (psychopompos), also draw rats after him? in answering this we shall have occasion to note that the ancients by no means shared that curious prejudice against the brute creation which is indulged in by modern anti-darwinians. in many countries, rats and mice have been regarded as sacred animals; but in germany they were thought to represent the human soul. one story out of a hundred must suffice to illustrate this. "in thuringia, at saalfeld, a servant-girl fell asleep whilst her companions were shelling nuts. they observed a little red mouse creep from her mouth and run out of the window. one of the fellows present shook the sleeper, but could not wake her, so he moved her to another place. presently the mouse ran back to the former place and dashed about, seeking the girl; not finding her, it vanished; at the same moment the girl died." [ ] this completes the explanation of the piper, and it also furnishes the key to the horrible story of bishop hatto. this wicked prelate lived on the bank of the rhine, in the middle of which stream he possessed a tower, now pointed out to travellers as the mouse tower. in the year there was a dreadful famine, and people came from far and near craving sustenance out of the bishop's ample and well-filled granaries. well, he told them all to go into the barn, and when they had got in there, as many as could stand, he set fire to the barn and burnt them all up, and went home to eat a merry supper. but when he arose next morning, he heard that an army of rats had eaten all the corn in his granaries, and was now advancing to storm the palace. looking from his window, he saw the roads and fields dark with them, as they came with fell purpose straight toward his mansion. in frenzied terror he took his boat and rowed out to the tower in the river. but it was of no use: down into the water marched the rats, and swam across, and scaled the walls, and gnawed through the stones, and came swarming in about the shrieking bishop, and ate him up, flesh, bones, and all. now, bearing in mind what was said above, there can be no doubt that these rats were the souls of those whom the bishop had murdered. there are many versions of the story in different teutonic countries, and in some of them the avenging rats or mice issue directly, by a strange metamorphosis, from the corpses of the victims. st. gertrude, moreover, the heathen holda, was symbolized as a mouse, and was said go lead an army of mice; she was the receiver of children's souls. odin, also, in his character of a psychopompos, was followed by a host of rats. [ ] as the souls of the departed are symbolized as rats, so is the psychopomp himself often figured as a dog. sarameias, the vedic counterpart of hermes and odin, sometimes appears invested with canine attributes; and countless other examples go to show that by the early aryan mind the howling wind was conceived as a great dog or wolf. as the fearful beast was heard speeding by the windows or over the house-top, the inmates trembled, for none knew but his own soul might forthwith be required of him. hence, to this day, among ignorant people, the howling of a dog under the window is supposed to portend a death in the family. it is the fleet greyhound of hermes, come to escort the soul to the river styx. [ ] but the wind-god is not always so terrible. nothing can be more transparent than the phraseology of the homeric hymn, in which hermes is described as acquiring the strength of a giant while yet a babe in the cradle, as sallying out and stealing the cattle (clouds) of apollo, and driving them helter-skelter in various directions, then as crawling through the keyhole, and with a mocking laugh shrinking into his cradle. he is the master thief, who can steal the burgomaster's horse from under him and his wife's mantle from off her back, the prototype not only of the crafty architect of rhampsinitos, but even of the ungrateful slave who robs sancho of his mule in the sierra morena. he furnishes in part the conceptions of boots and reynard; he is the prototype of paul pry and peeping tom of coventry; and in virtue of his ability to contract or expand himself at pleasure, he is both the devil in the norse tale, [ ] whom the lad persuades to enter a walnut, and the arabian efreet, whom the fisherman releases from the bottle. the very interesting series of myths and popular superstitions suggested by the storm-cloud and the lightning must be reserved for a future occasion. when carefully examined, they will richly illustrate the conclusion which is the result of the present inquiry, that the marvellous tales and quaint superstitions current in every aryan household have a common origin with the classic legends of gods and heroes, which formerly were alone thought worthy of the student's serious attention. these stories--some of them familiar to us in infancy, others the delight of our maturer years--constitute the debris, or alluvium, brought down by the stream of tradition from the distant highlands of ancient mythology. september, . ii. the descent of fire. in the course of my last summer's vacation, which was spent at a small inland village, i came upon an unexpected illustration of the tenacity with which conceptions descended from prehistoric antiquity have now and then kept their hold upon life. while sitting one evening under the trees by the roadside, my attention was called to the unusual conduct of half a dozen men and boys who were standing opposite. an elderly man was moving slowly up and down the road, holding with both hands a forked twig of hazel, shaped like the letter y inverted. with his palms turned upward, he held in each hand a branch of the twig in such a way that the shank pointed upward; but every few moments, as he halted over a certain spot, the twig would gradually bend downwards until it had assumed the likeness of a y in its natural position, where it would remain pointing to something in the ground beneath. one by one the bystanders proceeded to try the experiment, but with no variation in the result. something in the ground seemed to fascinate the bit of hazel, for it could not pass over that spot without bending down and pointing to it. my thoughts reverted at once to jacques aymar and dousterswivel, as i perceived that these men were engaged in sorcery. during the long drought more than half the wells in the village had become dry, and here was an attempt to make good the loss by the aid of the god thor. these men were seeking water with a divining-rod. here, alive before my eyes, was a superstitious observance, which i had supposed long since dead and forgotten by all men except students interested in mythology. as i crossed the road to take part in the ceremony a farmer's boy came up, stoutly affirming his incredulity, and offering to show the company how he could carry the rod motionless across the charmed spot. but when he came to take the weird twig he trembled with an ill-defined feeling of insecurity as to the soundness of his conclusions, and when he stood over the supposed rivulet the rod bent in spite of him,--as was not so very strange. for, with all his vague scepticism, the honest lad had not, and could not be supposed to have, the foi scientifique of which littre speaks. [ ] hereupon i requested leave to try the rod; but something in my manner seemed at once to excite the suspicion and scorn of the sorcerer. "yes, take it," said he, with uncalled-for vehemence, "but you can't stop it; there's water below here, and you can't help its bending, if you break your back trying to hold it." so he gave me the twig, and awaited, with a smile which was meant to express withering sarcasm, the discomfiture of the supposed scoffer. but when i proceeded to walk four or five times across the mysterious place, the rod pointing steadfastly toward the zenith all the while, our friend became grave and began to philosophize. "well," said he, "you see, your temperament is peculiar; the conditions ain't favourable in your case; there are some people who never can work these things. but there's water below here, for all that, as you'll find, if you dig for it; there's nothing like a hazel-rod for finding out water." very true: there are some persons who never can make such things work; who somehow always encounter "unfavourable conditions" when they wish to test the marvellous powers of a clairvoyant; who never can make "planchette" move in conformity to the requirements of any known alphabet; who never see ghosts, and never have "presentiments," save such as are obviously due to association of ideas. the ill-success of these persons is commonly ascribed to their lack of faith; but, in the majority of cases, it might be more truly referred to the strength of their faith,--faith in the constancy of nature, and in the adequacy of ordinary human experience as interpreted by science. [ ] la foi scientifique is an excellent preventive against that obscure, though not uncommon, kind of self-deception which enables wooden tripods to write and tables to tip and hazel-twigs to twist upside-down, without the conscious intervention of the performer. it was this kind of faith, no doubt, which caused the discomfiture of jacques aymar on his visit to paris, [ ] and which has in late years prevented persons from obtaining the handsome prize offered by the french academy for the first authentic case of clairvoyance. but our village friend, though perhaps constructively right in his philosophizing, was certainly very defective in his acquaintance with the time-honoured art of rhabdomancy. had he extended his inquiries so as to cover the field of indo-european tradition, he would have learned that the mountain-ash, the mistletoe, the white and black thorn, the hindu asvattha, and several other woods, are quite as efficient as the hazel for the purpose of detecting water in times of drought; and in due course of time he would have perceived that the divining-rod itself is but one among a large class of things to which popular belief has ascribed, along with other talismanic properties, the power of opening the ground or cleaving rocks, in order to reveal hidden treasures. leaving him in peace, then, with his bit of forked hazel, to seek for cooling springs in some future thirsty season, let us endeavour to elucidate the origin of this curious superstition. the detection of subterranean water is by no means the only use to which the divining-rod has been put. among the ancient frisians it was regularly used for the detection of criminals; and the reputation of jacques aymar was won by his discovery of the perpetrator of a horrible murder at lyons. throughout europe it has been used from time immemorial by miners for ascertaining the position of veins of metal; and in the days when talents were wrapped in napkins and buried in the field, instead of being exposed to the risks of financial speculation, the divining-rod was employed by persons covetous of their neighbours' wealth. if boulatruelle had lived in the sixteenth century, he would have taken a forked stick of hazel when he went to search for the buried treasures of jean valjean. it has also been applied to the cure of disease, and has been kept in households, like a wizard's charm, to insure general good-fortune and immunity from disaster. as we follow the conception further into the elf-land of popular tradition, we come upon a rod which not only points out the situation of hidden treasure, but even splits open the ground and reveals the mineral wealth contained therein. in german legend, "a shepherd, who was driving his flock over the ilsenstein, having stopped to rest, leaning on his staff, the mountain suddenly opened, for there was a springwort in his staff without his knowing it, and the princess [ilse] stood before him. she bade him follow her, and when he was inside the mountain she told him to take as much gold as he pleased. the shepherd filled all his pockets, and was going away, when the princess called after him, 'forget not the best.' so, thinking she meant that he had not taken enough, he filled his hat also; but what she meant was his staff with the springwort, which he had laid against the wall as soon as he stepped in. but now, just as he was going out at the opening, the rock suddenly slammed together and cut him in two." [ ] here the rod derives its marvellous properties from the enclosed springwort, but in many cases a leaf or flower is itself competent to open the hillside. the little blue flower, forget-me-not, about which so many sentimental associations have clustered, owes its name to the legends told of its talismanic virtues. [ ] a man, travelling on a lonely mountain, picks up a little blue flower and sticks it in his hat. forthwith an iron door opens, showing up a lighted passage-way, through which the man advances into a magnificent hall, where rubies and diamonds and all other kinds of gems are lying piled in great heaps on the floor. as he eagerly fills his pockets his hat drops from his head, and when he turns to go out the little flower calls after him, "forget me not!" he turns back and looks around, but is too bewildered with his good fortune to think of his bare head or of the luck-flower which he has let fall. he selects several more of the finest jewels he can find, and again starts to go out; but as he passes through the door the mountain closes amid the crashing of thunder, and cuts off one of his heels. alone, in the gloom of the forest, he searches in vain for the mysterious door: it has disappeared forever, and the traveller goes on his way, thankful, let us hope, that he has fared no worse. sometimes it is a white lady, like the princess ilse, who invites the finder of the luck-flower to help himself to her treasures, and who utters the enigmatical warning. the mountain where the event occurred may be found almost anywhere in germany, and one just like it stood in persia, in the golden prime of haroun alraschid. in the story of the forty thieves, the mere name of the plant sesame serves as a talisman to open and shut the secret door which leads into the robbers' cavern; and when the avaricious cassim baba, absorbed in the contemplation of the bags of gold and bales of rich merchandise, forgets the magic formula, he meets no better fate than the shepherd of the ilsenstein. in the story of prince ahmed, it is an enchanted arrow which guides the young adventurer through the hillside to the grotto of the peri banou. in the tale of baba abdallah, it is an ointment rubbed on the eyelid which reveals at a single glance all the treasures hidden in the bowels of the earth. the ancient romans also had their rock-breaking plant, called saxifraga, or "sassafras." and the further we penetrate into this charmed circle of traditions the more evident does it appear that the power of cleaving rocks or shattering hard substances enters, as a primitive element, into the conception of these treasure-showing talismans. mr. baring-gould has given an excellent account of the rabbinical legends concerning the wonderful schamir, by the aid of which solomon was said to have built his temple. from asmodeus, prince of the jann, benaiah, the son of jehoiada, wrested the secret of a worm no bigger than a barley-corn, which could split the hardest substance. this worm was called schamir. "if solomon desired to possess himself of the worm, he must find the nest of the moor-hen, and cover it with a plate of glass, so that the mother bird could not get at her young without breaking the glass. she would seek schamir for the purpose, and the worm must be obtained from her." as the jewish king did need the worm in order to hew the stones for that temple which was to be built without sound of hammer, or axe, or any tool of iron, [ ] he sent benaiah to obtain it. according to another account, schamir was a mystic stone which enabled solomon to penetrate the earth in search of mineral wealth. directed by a jinni, the wise king covered a raven's eggs with a plate of crystal, and thus obtained schamir which the bird brought in order to break the plate. [ ] in these traditions, which may possibly be of aryan descent, due to the prolonged intercourse between the jews and the persians, a new feature is added to those before enumerated: the rock-splitting talisman is always found in the possession of a bird. the same feature in the myth reappears on aryan soil. the springwort, whose marvellous powers we have noticed in the case of the ilsenstein shepherd, is obtained, according to pliny, by stopping up the hole in a tree where a woodpecker keeps its young. the bird flies away, and presently returns with the springwort, which it applies to the plug, causing it to shoot out with a loud explosion. the same account is given in german folk-lore. elsewhere, as in iceland, normandy, and ancient greece, the bird is an eagle, a swallow, an ostrich, or a hoopoe. in the icelandic and pomeranian myths the schamir, or "raven-stone," also renders its possessor invisible,--a property which it shares with one of the treasure-finding plants, the fern. [ ] in this respect it resembles the ring of gyges, as in its divining and rock-splitting qualities it resembles that other ring which the african magrician gave to aladdin, to enable him to descend into the cavern where stood the wonderful lamp. according to one north german tradition, the luck-flower also will make its finder invisible at pleasure. but, as the myth shrewdly adds, it is absolutely essential that the flower be found by accident: he who seeks for it never finds it! thus all cavils are skilfully forestalled, even if not satisfactorily disposed of. the same kind of reasoning is favoured by our modern dealers in mystery: somehow the "conditions" always are askew whenever a scientific observer wishes to test their pretensions. in the north of europe schamir appears strangely and grotesquely metamorphosed. the hand of a man that has been hanged, when dried and prepared with certain weird unguents and set on fire, is known as the hand of glory; and as it not only bursts open all safe-locks, but also lulls to sleep all persons within the circle of its influence, it is of course invaluable to thieves and burglars. i quote the following story from thorpe's "northern mythology": "two fellows once came to huy, who pretended to be exceedingly fatigued, and when they had supped would not retire to a sleeping-room, but begged their host would allow them to take a nap on the hearth. but the maid-servant, who did not like the looks of the two guests, remained by the kitchen door and peeped through a chink, when she saw that one of them drew a thief's hand from his pocket, the fingers of which, after having rubbed them with an ointment, he lighted, and they all burned except one. again they held this finger to the fire, but still it would not burn, at which they appeared much surprised, and one said, 'there must surely be some one in the house who is not yet asleep.' they then hung the hand with its four burning fingers by the chimney, and went out to call their associates. but the maid followed them instantly and made the door fast, then ran up stairs, where the landlord slept, that she might wake him, but was unable, notwithstanding all her shaking and calling. in the mean time the thieves had returned and were endeavouring to enter the house by a window, but the maid cast them down from the ladder. they then took a different course, and would have forced an entrance, had it not occurred to the maid that the burning fingers might probably be the cause of her master's profound sleep. impressed with this idea she ran to the kitchen and blew them out, when the master and his men-servants instantly awoke, and soon drove away the robbers." the same event is said to have occurred at stainmore in england; and torquermada relates of mexican thieves that they carry with them the left hand of a woman who has died in her first childbed, before which talisman all bolts yield and all opposition is benumbed. in "some irish thieves attempted to commit a robbery on the estate of mr. naper, of loughcrew, county meath. they entered the house armed with a dead man's hand with a lighted candle in it, believing in the superstitious notion that a candle placed in a dead man's hand will not be seen by any but those by whom it is used; and also that if a candle in a dead hand be introduced into a house, it will prevent those who may be asleep from awaking. the inmates, however, were alarmed, and the robbers fled, leaving the hand behind them." [ ] in the middle ages the hand of glory was used, just like the divining-rod, for the detection of buried treasures. here, then, we have a large and motley group of objects--the forked rod of ash or hazel, the springwort and the luck-flower, leaves, worms, stones, rings, and dead men's hands--which are for the most part competent to open the way into cavernous rocks, and which all agree in pointing out hidden wealth. we find, moreover, that many of these charmed objects are carried about by birds, and that some of them possess, in addition to their generic properties, the specific power of benumbing people's senses. what, now, is the common origin of this whole group of superstitions? and since mythology has been shown to be the result of primeval attempts to explain the phenomena of nature, what natural phenomenon could ever have given rise to so many seemingly wanton conceptions? hopeless as the problem may at first sight seem, it has nevertheless been solved. in his great treatise on "the descent of fire," dr. kuhn has shown that all these legends and traditions are descended from primitive myths explanatory of the lightning and the storm-cloud. [ ] to us, who are nourished from childhood on the truths revealed by science, the sky is known to be merely an optical appearance due to the partial absorption of the solar rays in passing through a thick stratum of atmospheric air; the clouds are known to be large masses of watery vapour, which descend in rain-drops when sufficiently condensed; and the lightning is known to be a flash of light accompanying an electric discharge. but these conceptions are extremely recondite, and have been attained only through centuries of philosophizing and after careful observation and laborious experiment. to the untaught mind of a child or of an uncivilized man, it seems far more natural and plausible to regard the sky as a solid dome of blue crystal, the clouds as snowy mountains, or perhaps even as giants or angels, the lightning as a flashing dart or a fiery serpent. in point of fact, we find that the conceptions actually entertained are often far more grotesque than these. i can recollect once framing the hypothesis that the flaming clouds of sunset were transient apparitions, vouchsafed us by way of warning, of that burning calvinistic hell with which my childish imagination had been unwisely terrified; [ ] and i have known of a four-year-old boy who thought that the snowy clouds of noonday were the white robes of the angels hung out to dry in the sun. [ ] my little daughter is anxious to know whether it is necessary to take a balloon in order to get to the place where god lives, or whether the same end can be accomplished by going to the horizon and crawling up the sky; [ ] the mohammedan of old was working at the same problem when he called the rainbow the bridge es-sirat, over which souls must pass on their way to heaven. according to the ancient jew, the sky was a solid plate, hammered out by the gods, and spread over the earth in order to keep up the ocean overhead; [ ] but the plate was full of little windows, which were opened whenever it became necessary to let the rain come through. [ ] with equal plausibility the greek represented the rainy sky as a sieve in which the daughters of danaos were vainly trying to draw water; while to the hindu the rain-clouds were celestial cattle milked by the wind-god. in primitive aryan lore, the sky itself was a blue sea, and the clouds were ships sailing over it; and an english legend tells how one of these ships once caught its anchor on a gravestone in the churchyard, to the great astonishment of the people who were coming out of church. charon's ferry-boat was one of these vessels, and another was odin's golden ship, in which the souls of slain heroes were conveyed to valhalla. hence it was once the scandinavian practice to bury the dead in boats; and in altmark a penny is still placed in the mouth of the corpse, that it may have the means of paying its fare to the ghostly ferryman. [ ] in such a vessel drifted the lady of shalott on her fatal voyage; and of similar nature was the dusky barge, "dark as a funeral-scarf from stem to stern," in which arthur was received by the black-hooded queens. [ ] but the fact that a natural phenomenon was explained in one way did not hinder it from being explained in a dozen other ways. the fact that the sun was generally regarded as an all-conquering hero did not prevent its being called an egg, an apple, or a frog squatting on the waters, or ixion's wheel, or the eye of polyphemos, or the stone of sisyphos, which was no sooner pushed to the zenith than it rolled down to the horizon. so the sky was not only a crystal dome, or a celestial ocean, but it was also the aleian land through which bellerophon wandered, the country of the lotos-eaters, or again the realm of the graiai beyond the twilight; and finally it was personified and worshipped as dyaus or varuna, the vedic prototypes of the greek zeus and ouranos. the clouds, too, had many other representatives besides ships and cows. in a future paper it will be shown that they were sometimes regarded as angels or houris; at present it more nearly concerns us to know that they appear, throughout all aryan mythology, under the form of birds. it used to be a matter of hopeless wonder to me that aladdin's innocent request for a roc's egg to hang in the dome of his palace should have been regarded as a crime worthy of punishment by the loss of the wonderful lamp; the obscurest part of the whole affair being perhaps the jinni's passionate allusion to the egg as his master: "wretch! dost thou command me to bring thee my master, and hang him up in the midst of this vaulted dome?" but the incident is to some extent cleared of its mystery when we learn that the roc's egg is the bright sun, and that the roc itself is the rushing storm-cloud which, in the tale of sindbad, haunts the sparkling starry firmament, symbolized as a valley of diamonds. [ ] according to one arabic authority, the length of its wings is ten thousand fathoms. but in european tradition it dwindles from these huge dimensions to the size of an eagle, a raven, or a woodpecker. among the birds enumerated by kuhn and others as representing the storm-cloud are likewise the wren or "kinglet" (french roitelet); the owl, sacred to athene; the cuckoo, stork, and sparrow; and the red-breasted robin, whose name robert was originally an epithet of the lightning-god thor. in certain parts of france it is still believed that the robbing of a wren's nest will render the culprit liable to be struck by lightning. the same belief was formerly entertained in teutonic countries with respect to the robin; and i suppose that from this superstition is descended the prevalent notion, which i often encountered in childhood, that there is something peculiarly wicked in killing robins. now, as the raven or woodpecker, in the various myths of schamir, is the dark storm-cloud, so the rock-splitting worm or plant or pebble which the bird carries in its beak and lets fall to the ground is nothing more or less than the flash of lightning carried and dropped by the cloud. "if the cloud was supposed to be a great bird, the lightnings were regarded as writhing worms or serpents in its beak. these fiery serpents, elikiai gram-moeidws feromenoi, are believed in to this day by the canadian indians, who call the thunder their hissing." [ ] but these are not the only mythical conceptions which are to be found wrapped up in the various myths of schamir and the divining-rod. the persons who told these stories were not weaving ingenious allegories about thunder-storms; they were telling stories, or giving utterance to superstitions, of which the original meaning was forgotten. the old grannies who, along with a stoical indifference to the fate of quails and partridges, used to impress upon me the wickedness of killing robins, did not add that i should be struck by lightning if i failed to heed their admonitions. they had never heard that the robin was the bird of thor; they merely rehearsed the remnant of the superstition which had survived to their own times, while the essential part of it had long since faded from recollection. the reason for regarding a robin's life as more sacred than a partridge's had been forgotten; but it left behind, as was natural, a vague recognition of that mythical sanctity. the primitive meaning of a myth fades away as inevitably as the primitive meaning of a word or phrase; and the rabbins who told of a worm which shatters rocks no more thought of the writhing thunderbolts than the modern reader thinks of oyster-shells when he sees the word ostracism, or consciously breathes a prayer as he writes the phrase good bye. it is only in its callow infancy that the full force of a myth is felt, and its period of luxuriant development dates from the time when its physical significance is lost or obscured. it was because the greek had forgotten that zeus meant the bright sky, that he could make him king over an anthropomorphic olympos. the hindu dyaus, who carried his significance in his name as plainly as the greek helios, never attained such an exalted position; he yielded to deities of less obvious pedigree, such as brahma and vishnu. since, therefore, the myth-tellers recounted merely the wonderful stories which their own nurses and grandmas had told them, and had no intention of weaving subtle allegories or wrapping up a physical truth in mystic emblems, it follows that they were not bound to avoid incongruities or to preserve a philosophical symmetry in their narratives. in the great majority of complex myths, no such symmetry is to be found. a score of different mythical conceptions would get wrought into the same story, and the attempt to pull them apart and construct a single harmonious system of conceptions out of the pieces must often end in ingenious absurdity. if odysseus is unquestionably the sun, so is the eye of polyphemos, which odysseus puts out. [ ] but the greek poet knew nothing of the incongruity, for he was thinking only of a superhuman hero freeing himself from a giant cannibal; he knew nothing of sanskrit, or of comparative mythology, and the sources of his myths were as completely hidden from his view as the sources of the nile. we need not be surprised, then, to find that in one version of the schamir-myth the cloud is the bird which carries the worm, while in another version the cloud is the rock or mountain which the talisman cleaves open; nor need we wonder at it, if we find stories in which the two conceptions are mingled together without regard to an incongruity which in the mind of the myth-teller no longer exists. [ ] in early aryan mythology there is nothing by which the clouds are more frequently represented than by rocks or mountains. such were the symplegades, which, charmed by the harp of the wind-god orpheus, parted to make way for the talking ship argo, with its crew of solar heroes. [ ] such, too, were the mountains ossa and pelion, which the giants piled up one upon another in their impious assault upon zeus, the lord of the bright sky. as mr. baring-gould observes: "the ancient aryan had the same name for cloud and mountain. to him the piles of vapour on the horizon were so like alpine ranges, that he had but one word whereby to designate both. [ ] these great mountains of heaven were opened by the lightning. in the sudden flash he beheld the dazzling splendour within, but only for a moment, and then, with a crash, the celestial rocks closed again. believing these vaporous piles to contain resplendent treasures of which partial glimpse was obtained by mortals in a momentary gleam, tales were speedily formed, relating the adventures of some who had succeeded in entering these treasure-mountains." this sudden flash is the smiting of the cloud-rock by the arrow of ahmed, the resistless hammer of thor, the spear of odin, the trident of poseidon, or the rod of hermes. the forked streak of light is the archetype of the divining-rod in its oldest form,--that in which it not only indicates the hidden treasures, but, like the staff of the ilsenstein shepherd, bursts open the enchanted crypt and reveals them to the astonished wayfarer. hence the one thing essential to the divining-rod, from whatever tree it be chosen, is that it shall be forked. it is not difficult to comprehend the reasons which led the ancients to speak of the lightning as a worm, serpent, trident, arrow, or forked wand; but when we inquire why it was sometimes symbolized as a flower or leaf; or when we seek to ascertain why certain trees, such as the ash, hazel, white-thorn, and mistletoe, were supposed to be in a certain sense embodiments of it, we are entering upon a subject too complicated to be satisfactorily treated within the limits of the present paper. it has been said that the point of resemblance between a cow and a comet, that both have tails, was quite enough for the primitive word-maker: it was certainly enough for the primitive myth-teller. [ ] sometimes the pinnate shape of a leaf, the forking of a branch, the tri-cleft corolla, or even the red colour of a flower, seems to have been sufficient to determine the association of ideas. the hindu commentators of the veda certainly lay great stress on the fact that the palasa, one of their lightning-trees, is trident-leaved. the mistletoe branch is forked, like a wish-bone, [ ] and so is the stem which bears the forget-me-not or wild scorpion grass. so too the leaves of the hindu ficus religiosa resemble long spear-heads. [ ] but in many cases it is impossible for us to determine with confidence the reasons which may have guided primitive men in their choice of talismanic plants. in the case of some of these stories, it would no doubt be wasting ingenuity to attempt to assign a mythical origin for each point of detail. the ointment of the dervise, for instance, in the arabian tale, has probably no special mythical significance, but was rather suggested by the exigencies of the story, in an age when the old mythologies were so far disintegrated and mingled together that any one talisman would serve as well as another the purposes of the narrator. but the lightning-plants of indo-european folk-lore cannot be thus summarily disposed of; for however difficult it may be for us to perceive any connection between them and the celestial phenomena which they represent, the myths concerning them are so numerous and explicit as to render it certain that some such connection was imagined by the myth-makers. the superstition concerning the hand of glory is not so hard to interpret. in the mythology of the finns, the storm-cloud is a black man with a bright copper hand; and in hindustan, indra savitar, the deity who slays the demon of the cloud, is golden-handed. the selection of the hand of a man who has been hanged is probably due to the superstition which regarded the storm-god odin as peculiarly the lord of the gallows. the man who is raised upon the gallows is placed directly in the track of the wild huntsman, who comes with his hounds to carry off the victim; and hence the notion, which, according to mr. kelly, is "very common in germany and not extinct in england," that every suicide by hanging is followed by a storm. the paths of comparative mythology are devious, but we have now pursued them long enough i believe, to have arrived at a tolerably clear understanding of the original nature of the divining-rod. its power of revealing treasures has been sufficiently explained; and its affinity for water results so obviously from the character of the lightning-myth as to need no further comment. but its power of detecting criminals still remains to be accounted for. in greek mythology, the being which detects and punishes crime is the erinys, the prototype of the latin fury, figured by late writers as a horrible monster with serpent locks. but this is a degradation of the original conception. the name erinys did not originally mean fury, and it cannot be explained from greek sources alone. it appears in sanskrit as saranyu, a word which signifies the light of morning creeping over the sky. and thus we are led to the startling conclusion that, as the light of morning reveals the evil deeds done under the cover of night, so the lovely dawn, or erinys, came to be regarded under one aspect as the terrible detector and avenger of iniquity. yet startling as the conclusion is, it is based on established laws of phonetic change, and cannot be gainsaid. but what has the avenging daybreak to do with the lightning and the divining-rod? to the modern mind the association is not an obvious one: in antiquity it was otherwise. myths of the daybreak and myths of the lightning often resemble each other so closely that, except by a delicate philological analysis, it is difficult to distinguish the one from the other. the reason is obvious. in each case the phenomenon to be explained is the struggle between the day-god and one of the demons of darkness. there is essentially no distinction to the mind of the primitive man between the panis, who steal indra's bright cows and keep them in a dark cavern all night, and the throttling snake ahi or echidna, who imprisons the waters in the stronghold of the thunder-cloud and covers the earth with a short-lived darkness. and so the poisoned arrows of bellerophon, which slay the storm-dragon, differ in no essential respect from the shafts with which odysseus slaughters the night-demons who have for ten long hours beset his mansion. thus the divining-rod, representing as it does the weapon of the god of day, comes legitimately enough by its function of detecting and avenging crime. but the lightning not only reveals strange treasures and gives water to the thirsty land and makes plain what is doing under cover of darkness; it also sometimes kills, benumbs, or paralyzes. thus the head of the gorgon medusa turns into stone those who look upon it. thus the ointment of the dervise, in the tale of baba abdallah, not only reveals all the treasures of the earth, but instantly thereafter blinds the unhappy man who tests its powers. and thus the hand of glory, which bursts open bars and bolts, benumbs also those who happen to be near it. indeed, few of the favoured mortals who were allowed to visit the caverns opened by sesame or the luck-flower, escaped without disaster. the monkish tale of "the clerk and the image," in which the primeval mythical features are curiously distorted, well illustrates this point. in the city of rome there formerly stood an image with its right hand extended and on its forefinger the words "strike here." many wise men puzzled in vain over the meaning of the inscription; but at last a certain priest observed that whenever the sun shone on the figure, the shadow of the finger was discernible on the ground at a little distance from the statue. having marked the spot, he waited until midnight, and then began to dig. at last his spade struck upon something hard. it was a trap-door, below which a flight of marble steps descended into a spacious hall, where many men were sitting in solemn silence amid piles of gold and diamonds and long rows of enamelled vases. beyond this he found another room, a gynaecium filled with beautiful women reclining on richly embroidered sofas; yet here, too, all was profound silence. a superb banqueting-hall next met his astonished gaze; then a silent kitchen; then granaries loaded with forage; then a stable crowded with motionless horses. the whole place was brilliantly lighted by a carbuncle which was suspended in one corner of the reception-room; and opposite stood an archer, with his bow and arrow raised, in the act of taking aim at the jewel. as the priest passed back through this hall, he saw a diamond-hilted knife lying on a marble table; and wishing to carry away something wherewith to accredit his story, he reached out his hand to take it; but no sooner had he touched it than all was dark. the archer had shot with his arrow, the bright jewel was shivered into a thousand pieces, the staircase had fled, and the priest found himself buried alive. [ ] usually, however, though the lightning is wont to strike dead, with its basilisk glance, those who rashly enter its mysterious caverns, it is regarded rather as a benefactor than as a destroyer. the feelings with which the myth-making age contemplated the thunder-shower as it revived the earth paralyzed by a long drought, are shown in the myth of oidipous. the sphinx, whose name signifies "the one who binds," is the demon who sits on the cloud-rock and imprisons the rain, muttering, dark sayings which none but the all-knowing sun may understand. the flash of solar light which causes the monster to fling herself down from the cliff with a fearful roar, restores the land to prosperity. but besides this, the association of the thunder-storm with the approach of summer has produced many myths in which the lightning is symbolized as the life-renewing wand of the victorious sun-god. hence the use of the divining-rod in the cure of disease; and hence the large family of schamir-myths in which the dead are restored to life by leaves or herbs. in grimm's tale of the "three snake leaves," a prince is buried alive (like sindbad) with his dead wife, and seeing a snake approaching her body, he cuts it in three pieces. presently another snake, crawling from the corner, saw the other lying dead, and going, away soon returned with three green leaves in its mouth; then laying the parts of the body together so as to join, it put one leaf on each wound, and the dead snake was alive again. the prince, applying the leaves to his wife's body, restores her also to life." [ ] in the greek story, told by aelian and apollodoros, polyidos is shut up with the corpse of glaukos, which he is ordered to restore to life. he kills a dragon which is approaching the body, but is presently astonished at seeing another dragon come with a blade of grass and place it upon its dead companion, which instantly rises from the ground. polyidos takes the same blade of grass, and with it resuscitates glaukos. the same incident occurs in the hindu story of panch phul ranee, and in fouque's "sir elidoc," which is founded on a breton legend. we need not wonder, then, at the extraordinary therapeutic properties which are in all aryan folk-lore ascribed to the various lightning-plants. in sweden sanitary amulets are made of mistletoe-twigs, and the plant is supposed to be a specific against epilepsy and an antidote for poisons. in cornwall children are passed through holes in ash-trees in order to cure them of hernia. ash rods are used in some parts of england for the cure of diseased sheep, cows, and horses; and in particular they are supposed to neutralize the venom of serpents. the notion that snakes are afraid of an ash-tree is not extinct even in the united states. the other day i was told, not by an old granny, but by a man fairly educated and endowed with a very unusual amount of good common-sense, that a rattlesnake will sooner go through fire than creep over ash leaves or into the shadow of an ash-tree. exactly the same statement is made by piny, who adds that if you draw a circle with an ash rod around the spot of ground on which a snake is lying, the animal must die of starvation, being as effectually imprisoned as ugolino in the dungeon at pisa. in cornwall it is believed that a blow from an ash stick will instantly kill any serpent. the ash shares this virtue with the hazel and fern. a swedish peasant will tell you that snakes may be deprived of their venom by a touch with a hazel wand; and when an ancient greek had occasion to make his bed in the woods, he selected fern leaves if possible, in the belief that the smell of them would drive away poisonous animals. [ ] but the beneficent character of the lightning appears still more clearly in another class of myths. to the primitive man the shaft of light coming down from heaven was typical of the original descent of fire for the benefit and improvement of the human race. the sioux indians account for the origin of fire by a myth of unmistakable kinship; they say that "their first ancestor obtained his fire from the sparks which a friendly panther struck from the rocks as he scampered up a stony hill." [ ] this panther is obviously the counterpart of the aryan bird which drops schamir. but the aryan imagination hit upon a far more remarkable conception. the ancient hindus obtained fire by a process similar to that employed by count rumford in his experiments on the generation of heat by friction. they first wound a couple of cords around a pointed stick in such a way that the unwinding of the one would wind up the other, and then, placing the point of the stick against a circular disk of wood, twirled it rapidly by alternate pulls on the two strings. this instrument is called a chark, and is still used in south africa, [ ] in australia, in sumatra, and among the veddahs of ceylon. the russians found it in kamtchatka; and it was formerly employed in america, from labrador to the straits of magellan. [ ] the hindus churned milk by a similar process; [ ] and in order to explain the thunder-storm, a sanskrit poem tells how "once upon a time the devas, or gods, and their opponents, the asuras, made a truce, and joined together in churning the ocean to procure amrita, the drink of immortality. they took mount mandara for a churning-stick, and, wrapping the great serpent sesha round it for a rope, they made the mountain spin round to and fro, the devas pulling at the serpent's tail, and the asuras at its head." [ ] in this myth the churning-stick, with its flying serpent-cords, is the lightning, and the armrita, or drink of immortality, is simply the rain-water, which in aryan folk-lore possesses the same healing virtues as the lightning. "in sclavonic myths it is the water of life which restores the dead earth, a water brought by a bird from the depths of a gloomy cave." [ ] it is the celestial soma or mead which indra loves to drink; it is the ambrosial nectar of the olympian gods; it is the charmed water which in the arabian nights restores to human shape the victims of wicked sorcerers; and it is the elixir of life which mediaeval philosophers tried to discover, and in quest of which ponce de leon traversed the wilds of florida. [ ] "jacky's next proceeding was to get some dry sticks and wood, and prepare a fire, which, to george's astonishment, he lighted thus. he got a block of wood, in the middle of which he made a hole; then he cut and pointed a long stick, and inserting the point into the block, worked it round between his palms for some time and with increasing rapidity. presently there came a smell of burning wood, and soon after it burst into a flame at the point of contact. jacky cut slices of shark and roasted them."--reade, never too late to mend, chap. xxxviii. the most interesting point in this hindu myth is the name of the peaked mountain mandara, or manthara, which the gods and devils took for their churning-stick. the word means "a churning-stick," and it appears also, with a prefixed preposition, in the name of the fire-drill, pramantha. now kuhn has proved that this name, pramantha, is etymologically identical with prometheus, the name of the beneficent titan, who stole fire from heaven and bestowed it upon mankind as the richest of boons. this sublime personage was originally nothing but the celestial drill which churns fire out of the clouds; but the greeks had so entirely forgotten his origin that they interpreted his name as meaning "the one who thinks beforehand," and accredited him with a brother, epimetheus, or "the one who thinks too late." the greeks had adopted another name, trypanon, for their fire-drill, and thus the primitive character of prometheus became obscured. i have said above that it was regarded as absolutely essential that the divining-rod should be forked. to this rule, however, there was one exception, and if any further evidence be needed to convince the most sceptical that the divining-rod is nothing but a symbol of the lightning, that exception will furnish such evidence. for this exceptional kind of divining-rod was made of a pointed stick rotating in a block of wood, and it was the presence of hidden water or treasure which was supposed to excite the rotatory motion. in the myths relating to prometheus, the lightning-god appears as the originator of civilization, sometimes as the creator of the human race, and always as its friend, [ ] suffering in its behalf the most fearful tortures at the hands of the jealous zeus. in one story he creates man by making a clay image and infusing into it a spark of the fire which he had brought from heaven; in another story he is himself the first man. in the peloponnesian myth phoroneus, who is prometheus under another name, is the first man, and his mother was an ash-tree. in norse mythology, also, the gods were said to have made the first man out of the ash-tree yggdrasil. the association of the heavenly fire with the life-giving forces of nature is very common in the myths of both hemispheres, and in view of the facts already cited it need not surprise us. hence the hindu agni and the norse thor were patrons of marriage, and in norway, the most lucky day on which to be married is still supposed to be thursday, which in old times was the day of the fire-god. [ ] hence the lightning-plants have divers virtues in matters pertaining to marriage. the romans made their wedding torches of whitethorn; hazel-nuts are still used all over europe in divinations relating to the future lover or sweetheart; [ ] and under a mistletoe bough it is allowable for a gentleman to kiss a lady. a vast number of kindred superstitions are described by mr. kelly, to whom i am indebted for many of these examples. [ ] thus we reach at last the completed conception of the divining-rod, or as it is called in this sense the wish-rod, with its kindred talismans, from aladdin's lamp and the purse of bedreddin hassan, to the sangreal, the philosopher's stone, and the goblets of oberon and tristram. these symbols of the reproductive energies of nature, which give to the possessor every good and perfect gift, illustrate the uncurbed belief in the power of wish which the ancient man shared with modern children. in the norse story of frodi's quern, the myth assumes a whimsical shape. the prose edda tells of a primeval age of gold, when everybody had whatever he wanted. this was because the giant frodi had a mill which ground out peace and plenty and abundance of gold withal, so that it lay about the roads like pebbles. through the inexcusable avarice of frodi, this wonderful implement was lost to the world. for he kept his maid-servants working at the mill until they got out of patience, and began to make it grind out hatred and war. then came a mighty sea-rover by night and slew frodi and carried away the maids and the quern. when he got well out to sea, he told them to grind out salt, and so they did with a vengeance. they ground the ship full of salt and sank it, and so the quern was lost forever, but the sea remains salt unto this day. mr. kelly rightly identifies frodi with the sun-god fro or freyr, and observes that the magic mill is only another form of the fire-churn, or chark. according to another version the quern is still grinding away and keeping the sea salt, and over the place where it lies there is a prodigious whirlpool or maelstrom which sucks down ships. in its completed shape, the lightning-wand is the caduceus, or rod of hermes. i observed, in the preceding paper, that in the greek conception of hermes there have been fused together the attributes of two deities who were originally distinct. the hermes of the homeric hymn is a wind-god; but the later hermes agoraios, the patron of gymnasia, the mutilation of whose statues caused such terrible excitement in athens during the peloponnesian war, is a very different personage. he is a fire-god, invested with many solar attributes, and represents the quickening forces of nature. in this capacity the invention of fire was ascribed to him as well as to prometheus; he was said to be the friend of mankind, and was surnamed ploutodotes, or "the giver of wealth." the norse wind-god odin has in like manner acquired several of the attributes of freyr and thor. [ ] his lightning-spear, which is borrowed from thor, appears by a comical metamorphosis as a wish-rod which will administer a sound thrashing to the enemies of its possessor. having cut a hazel stick, you have only to lay down an old coat, name your intended victim, wish he was there, and whack away: he will howl with pain at every blow. this wonderful cudgel appears in dasent's tale of "the lad who went to the north wind," with which we may conclude this discussion. the story is told, with little variation, in hindustan, germany, and scandinavia. the north wind, representing the mischievous hermes, once blew away a poor woman's meal. so her boy went to the north wind and demanded his rights for the meal his mother had lost. "i have n't got your meal," said the wind, "but here's a tablecloth which will cover itself with an excellent dinner whenever you tell it to." so the lad took the cloth and started for home. at nightfall he stopped at an inn, spread his cloth on the table, and ordered it to cover itself with good things, and so it did. but the landlord, who thought it would be money in his pocket to have such a cloth, stole it after the boy had gone to bed, and substituted another just like it in appearance. next day the boy went home in great glee to show off for his mother's astonishment what the north wind had given him, but all the dinner he got that day was what the old woman cooked for him. in his despair he went back to the north wind and called him a liar, and again demanded his rights for the meal he had lost. "i have n't got your meal," said the wind, "but here's a ram which will drop money out of its fleece whenever you tell it to." so the lad travelled home, stopping over night at the same inn, and when he got home he found himself with a ram which did n't drop coins out of its fleece. a third time he visited the north wind, and obtained a bag with a stick in it which, at the word of command, would jump out of the bag and lay on until told to stop. guessing how matters stood as to his cloth and ram, he turned in at the same tavern, and going to a bench lay down as if to sleep. the landlord thought that a stick carried about in a bag must be worth something, and so he stole quietly up to the bag, meaning to get the stick out and change it. but just as he got within whacking distance, the boy gave the word, and out jumped the stick and beat the thief until he promised to give back the ram and the tablecloth. and so the boy got his rights for the meal which the north wind had blown away. october, . iii. werewolves and swan-maidens. it is related by ovid that lykaon, king of arkadia, once invited zeus to dinner, and served up for him a dish of human flesh, in order to test the god's omniscience. but the trick miserably failed, and the impious monarch received the punishment which his crime had merited. he was transformed into a wolf, that he might henceforth feed upon the viands with which he had dared to pollute the table of the king of olympos. from that time forth, according to pliny, a noble arkadian was each year, on the festival of zeus lykaios, led to the margin of a certain lake. hanging his clothes upon a tree, he then plunged into the water and became a wolf. for the space of nine years he roamed about the adjacent woods, and then, if he had not tasted human flesh during all this time, he was allowed to swim back to the place where his clothes were hanging, put them on, and return to his natural form. it is further related of a certain demainetos, that, having once been present at a human sacrifice to zeus lykaios, he ate of the flesh, and was transformed into a wolf for a term of ten years. [ ] these and other similar mythical germs were developed by the mediaeval imagination into the horrible superstition of werewolves. a werewolf, or loup-garou [ ] was a person who had the power of transforming himself into a wolf, being endowed, while in the lupine state, with the intelligence of a man, the ferocity of a wolf, and the irresistible strength of a demon. the ancients believed in the existence of such persons; but in the middle ages the metamorphosis was supposed to be a phenomenon of daily occurrence, and even at the present day, in secluded portions of europe, the superstition is still cherished by peasants. the belief, moreover, is supported by a vast amount of evidence, which can neither be argued nor pooh-poohed into insignificance. it is the business of the comparative mythologist to trace the pedigree of the ideas from which such a conception may have sprung; while to the critical historian belongs the task of ascertaining and classifying the actual facts which this particular conception was used to interpret. the mediaeval belief in werewolves is especially adapted to illustrate the complicated manner in which divers mythical conceptions and misunderstood natural occurrences will combine to generate a long-enduring superstition. mr. cox, indeed, would have us believe that the whole notion arose from an unintentional play upon words; but the careful survey of the field, which has been taken by hertz and baring-gould, leads to the conclusion that many other circumstances have been at work. the delusion, though doubtless purely mythical in its origin, nevertheless presents in its developed state a curious mixture of mythical and historical elements. with regard to the arkadian legend, taken by itself, mr. cox is probably right. the story seems to belong to that large class of myths which have been devised in order to explain the meaning of equivocal words whose true significance has been forgotten. the epithet lykaios, as applied to zeus, had originally no reference to wolves: it means "the bright one," and gave rise to lycanthropic legends only because of the similarity in sound between the names for "wolf" and "brightness." aryan mythology furnishes numerous other instances of this confusion. the solar deity, phoibos lykegenes, was originally the "offspring of light"; but popular etymology made a kind of werewolf of him by interpreting his name as the "wolf-born." the name of the hero autolykos means simply the "self-luminous"; but it was more frequently interpreted as meaning "a very wolf," in allusion to the supposed character of its possessor. bazra, the name of the citadel of carthage, was the punic word for "fortress"; but the greeks confounded it with byrsa, "a hide," and hence the story of the ox-hides cut into strips by dido in order to measure the area of the place to be fortified. the old theory that the irish were phoenicians had a similar origin. the name fena, used to designate the old scoti or irish, is the plural of fion, "fair," seen in the name of the hero fion gall, or "fingal"; but the monkish chroniclers identified fena with phoinix, whence arose the myth; and by a like misunderstanding of the epithet miledh, or "warrior," applied to fion by the gaelic bards, there was generated a mythical hero, milesius, and the soubriquet "milesian," colloquially employed in speaking of the irish. [ ] so the franks explained the name of the town daras, in mesopotamia, by the story that the emperor justinian once addressed the chief magistrate with the exclamation, daras, "thou shalt give": [ ] the greek chronicler, malalas, who spells the name doras, informs us with equal complacency that it was the place where alexander overcame codomannus with dorn, "the spear." a certain passage in the alps is called scaletta, from its resemblance to a staircase; but according to a local tradition it owes its name to the bleaching skeletons of a company of moors who were destroyed there in the eighth century, while attempting to penetrate into northern italy. the name of antwerp denotes the town built at a "wharf"; but it sounds very much like the flemish handt werpen, "hand-throwing": "hence arose the legend of the giant who cut of the hands of those who passed his castle without paying him black-mail, and threw them into the scheldt." [ ] in the myth of bishop hatto, related in a previous paper, the mause-thurm is a corruption of maut-thurm; it means "customs-tower," and has nothing to do with mice or rats. doubtless this etymology was the cause of the floating myth getting fastened to this particular place; that it did not give rise to the myth itself is shown by the existence of the same tale in other places. somewhere in england there is a place called chateau vert; the peasantry have corrupted it into shotover, and say that it has borne that name ever since little john shot over a high hill in the neighbourhood. [ ] latium means "the flat land"; but, according to virgil, it is the place where saturn once hid (latuisset) from the wrath of his usurping son jupiter. [ ] it was in this way that the constellation of the great bear received its name. the greek word arktos, answering to the sanskrit riksha, meant originally any bright object, and was applied to the bear--for what reason it would not be easy to state--and to that constellation which was most conspicuous in the latitude of the early home of the aryans. when the greeks had long forgotten why these stars were called arktoi, they symbolized them as a great bear fixed in the sky. so that, as max muller observes, "the name of the arctic regions rests on a misunderstanding of a name framed thousands of years ago in central asia, and the surprise with which many a thoughtful observer has looked at these seven bright stars, wondering why they were ever called the bear, is removed by a reference to the early annals of human speech." among the algonquins the sun-god michabo was represented as a hare, his name being compounded of michi, "great," and wabos, "a hare"; yet wabos also meant "white," so that the god was doubtless originally called simply "the great white one." the same naive process has made bears of the arkadians, whose name, like that of the lykians, merely signified that they were "children of light"; and the metamorphosis of kallisto, mother of arkas, into a bear, and of lykaon into a wolf, rests apparently upon no other foundation than an erroneous etymology. originally lykaon was neither man nor wolf; he was but another form of phoibos lykegenes, the light-born sun, and, as mr. cox has shown, his legend is but a variation of that of tantalos, who in time of drought offers to zeus the flesh of his own offspring, the withered fruits, and is punished for his impiety. it seems to me, however, that this explanation, though valid as far as it goes, is inadequate to explain all the features of the werewolf superstition, or to account for its presence in all aryan countries and among many peoples who are not of aryan origin. there can be no doubt that the myth-makers transformed lykaon into a wolf because of his unlucky name; because what really meant "bright man" seemed to them to mean "wolf-man"; but it has by no means been proved that a similar equivocation occurred in the case of all the primitive aryan werewolves, nor has it been shown to be probable that among each people the being with the uncanny name got thus accidentally confounded with the particular beast most dreaded by that people. etymology alone does not explain the fact that while gaul has been the favourite haunt of the man-wolf, scandinavia has been preferred by the man-bear, and hindustan by the man-tiger. to account for such a widespread phenomenon we must seek a more general cause. nothing is more strikingly characteristic of primitive thinking than the close community of nature which it assumes between man and brute. the doctrine of metempsychosis, which is found in some shape or other all over the world, implies a fundamental identity between the two; the hindu is taught to respect the flocks browsing in the meadow, and will on no account lift his hand against a cow, for who knows but it may he his own grandmother? the recent researches of mr. m`lennan and mr. herbert spencer have served to connect this feeling with the primeval worship of ancestors and with the savage customs of totemism. [ ] the worship of ancestors seems to have been every where the oldest systematized form of fetichistic religion. the reverence paid to the chieftain of the tribe while living was continued and exaggerated after his death the uncivilized man is everywhere incapable of grasping the idea of death as it is apprehended by civilized people. he cannot understand that a man should pass away so as to be no longer capable of communicating with his fellows. the image of his dead chief or comrade remains in his mind, and the savage's philosophic realism far surpasses that of the most extravagant mediaeval schoolmen; to him the persistence of the idea implies the persistence of the reality. the dead man, accordingly, is not really dead; he has thrown off his body like a husk, yet still retains his old appearance, and often shows himself to his old friends, especially after nightfall. he is no doubt possessed of more extensive powers than before his transformation, [ ] and may very likely have a share in regulating the weather, granting or withholding rain. therefore, argues the uncivilized mind, he is to be cajoled and propitiated more sedulously now than before his strange transformation. this kind of worship still maintains a languid existence as the state religion of china, and it still exists as a portion of brahmanism; but in the vedic religion it is to be seen in all its vigour and in all its naive simplicity. according to the ancient aryan, the pitris, or "fathers" (lat. patres), live in the sky along with yama, the great original pitri of mankind. this first man came down from heaven in the lightning, and back to heaven both himself and all his offspring must have gone. there they distribute light unto men below, and they shine themselves as stars; and hence the christianized german peasant, fifty centuries later, tells his children that the stars are angels' eyes, and the english cottager impresses it on the youthful mind that it is wicked to point at the stars, though why he cannot tell. but the pitris are not stars only, nor do they content themselves with idly looking down on the affairs of men, after the fashion of the laissez-faire divinities of lucretius. they are, on the contrary, very busy with the weather; they send rain, thunder, and lightning; and they especially delight in rushing over the housetops in a great gale of wind, led on by their chief, the mysterious huntsman, hermes or odin. it has been elsewhere shown that the howling dog, or wish-hound of hermes, whose appearance under the windows of a sick person is such an alarming portent, is merely the tempest personified. throughout all aryan mythology the souls of the dead are supposed to ride on the night-wind, with their howling dogs, gathering into their throng the souls of those just dying as they pass by their houses. [ ] sometimes the whole complex conception is wrapped up in the notion of a single dog, the messenger of the god of shades, who comes to summon the departing soul. sometimes, instead of a dog, we have a great ravening wolf who comes to devour its victim and extinguish the sunlight of life, as that old wolf of the tribe of fenrir devoured little red riding-hood with her robe of scarlet twilight. [ ] thus we arrive at a true werewolf myth. the storm-wind, or howling rakshasa of hindu folk-lore, is "a great misshapen giant with red beard and red hair, with pointed protruding teeth, ready to lacerate and devour human flesh; his body is covered with coarse, bristling hair, his huge mouth is open, he looks from side to side as he walks, lusting after the flesh and blood of men, to satisfy his raging hunger and quench his consuming thirst. towards nightfall his strength increases manifold; he can change his shape at will; he haunts the woods, and roams howling through the jungle." [ ] now if the storm-wind is a host of pitris, or one great pitri who appears as a fearful giant, and is also a pack of wolves or wish-hounds, or a single savage dog or wolf, the inference is obvious to the mythopoeic mind that men may become wolves, at least after death. and to the uncivilized thinker this inference is strengthened, as mr. spencer has shown, by evidence registered on his own tribal totem or heraldic emblem. the bears and lions and leopards of heraldry are the degenerate descendants of the totem of savagery which designated the tribe by a beast-symbol. to the untutored mind there is everything in a name; and the descendant of brown bear or yellow tiger or silver hyaena cannot be pronounced unfaithful to his own style of philosophizing, if he regards his ancestors, who career about his hut in the darkness of night, as belonging to whatever order of beasts his totem associations may suggest. thus we not only see a ray of light thrown on the subject of metempsychosis, but we get a glimpse of the curious process by which the intensely realistic mind of antiquity arrived at the notion that men could be transformed into beasts. for the belief that the soul can temporarily quit the body during lifetime has been universally entertained; and from the conception of wolf-like ghosts it was but a short step to the conception of corporeal werewolves. in the middle ages the phenomena of trance and catalepsy were cited in proof of the theory that the soul can leave the body and afterwards return to it. hence it was very difficult for a person accused of witchcraft to prove an alibi; for to any amount of evidence showing that the body was innocently reposing at home and in bed, the rejoinder was obvious that the soul may nevertheless have been in attendance at the witches' sabbath or busied in maiming a neighbour's cattle. according to one mediaeval notion, the soul of the werewolf quit its human body, which remained in a trance until its return. [ ] the mythological basis of the werewolf superstition is now, i believe, sufficiently indicated. the belief, however, did not reach its complete development, or acquire its most horrible features, until the pagan habits of thought which had originated it were modified by contact with christian theology. to the ancient there was nothing necessarily diabolical in the transformation of a man into a beast. but christianity, which retained such a host of pagan conceptions under such strange disguises, which degraded the "all-father" odin into the ogre of the castle to which jack climbed on his bean-stalk, and which blended the beneficent lightning-god thor and the mischievous hermes and the faun-like pan into the grotesque teutonic devil, did not fail to impart a new and fearful character to the belief in werewolves. lycanthropy became regarded as a species of witchcraft; the werewolf was supposed to have obtained his peculiar powers through the favour or connivance of the devil; and hundreds of persons were burned alive or broken on the wheel for having availed themselves of the privilege of beast-metamorphosis. the superstition, thus widely extended and greatly intensified, was confirmed by many singular phenomena which cannot be omitted from any thorough discussion of the nature and causes of lycanthropy. the first of these phenomena is the berserker insanity, characteristic of scandinavia, but not unknown in other countries. in times when killing one's enemies often formed a part of the necessary business of life, persons were frequently found who killed for the mere love of the thing; with whom slaughter was an end desirable in itself, not merely a means to a desirable end. what the miser is in an age which worships mammon, such was the berserker in an age when the current idea of heaven was that of a place where people could hack each other to pieces through all eternity, and when the man who refused a challenge was punished with confiscation of his estates. with these northmen, in the ninth century, the chief business and amusement in life was to set sail for some pleasant country, like spain or france, and make all the coasts and navigable rivers hideous with rapine and massacre. when at home, in the intervals between their freebooting expeditions, they were liable to become possessed by a strange homicidal madness, during which they would array themselves in the skins of wolves or bears, and sally forth by night to crack the backbones, smash the skulls, and sometimes to drink with fiendish glee the blood of unwary travellers or loiterers. these fits of madness were usually followed by periods of utter exhaustion and nervous depression. [ ] such, according to the unanimous testimony of historians, was the celebrated "berserker rage," not peculiar to the northland, although there most conspicuously manifested. taking now a step in advance, we find that in comparatively civilized countries there have been many cases of monstrous homicidal insanity. the two most celebrated cases, among those collected by mr. baring-gould, are those of the marechal de retz, in , and of elizabeth, a hungarian countess, in the seventeenth century. the countess elizabeth enticed young girls into her palace on divers pretexts, and then coolly murdered them, for the purpose of bathing in their blood. the spectacle of human suffering became at last such a delight to her, that she would apply with her own hands the most excruciating tortures, relishing the shrieks of her victims as the epicure relishes each sip of his old chateau margaux. in this way she is said to have murdered six hundred and fifty persons before her evil career was brought to an end; though, when one recollects the famous men in buckram and the notorious trio of crows, one is inclined to strike off a cipher, and regard sixty-five as a sufficiently imposing and far less improbable number. but the case of the marechal de retz is still more frightful. a marshal of france, a scholarly man, a patriot, and a man of holy life, he became suddenly possessed by an uncontrollable desire to murder children. during seven years he continued to inveigle little boys and girls into his castle, at the rate of about two each week, (?) and then put them to death in various ways, that he might witness their agonies and bathe in their blood; experiencing after each occasion the most dreadful remorse, but led on by an irresistible craving to repeat the crime. when this unparalleled iniquity was finally brought to light, the castle was found to contain bins full of children's bones. the horrible details of the trial are to be found in the histories of france by michelet and martin. going a step further, we find cases in which the propensity to murder has been accompanied by cannibalism. in a tailor of chalons was sentenced by the parliament of paris to be burned alive for lycanthropy. "this wretched man had decoyed children into his shop, or attacked them in the gloaming when they strayed in the woods, had torn them with his teeth and killed them, after which he seems calmly to have dressed their flesh as ordinary meat, and to have eaten it with a great relish. the number of little innocents whom he destroyed is unknown. a whole caskful of bones was discovered in his house." [ ] about a beggar in the village of polomyia, in galicia, was proved to have killed and eaten fourteen children. a house had one day caught fire and burnt to the ground, roasting one of the inmates, who was unable to escape. the beggar passed by soon after, and, as he was suffering from excessive hunger, could not resist the temptation of making a meal off the charred body. from that moment he was tormented by a craving for human flesh. he met a little orphan girl, about nine years old, and giving her a pinchbeck ring told her to seek for others like it under a tree in the neighbouring wood. she was slain, carried to the beggar's hovel, and eaten. in the course of three years thirteen other children mysteriously disappeared, but no one knew whom to suspect. at last an innkeeper missed a pair of ducks, and having no good opinion of this beggar's honesty, went unexpectedly to his cabin, burst suddenly in at the door, and to his horror found him in the act of hiding under his cloak a severed head; a bowl of fresh blood stood under the oven, and pieces of a thigh were cooking over the fire. [ ] this occurred only about twenty years ago, and the criminal, though ruled by an insane appetite, is not known to have been subject to any mental delusion. but there have been a great many similar cases, in which the homicidal or cannibal craving has been accompanied by genuine hallucination. forms of insanity in which the afflicted persons imagine themselves to be brute animals are not perhaps very common, but they are not unknown. i once knew a poor demented old man who believed himself to be a horse, and would stand by the hour together before a manger, nibbling hay, or deluding himself with the presence of so doing. many of the cannibals whose cases are related by mr. baring-gould, in his chapter of horrors, actually believed themselves to have been transformed into wolves or other wild animals. jean grenier was a boy of thirteen, partially idiotic, and of strongly marked canine physiognomy; his jaws were large and projected forward, and his canine teeth were unnaturally long, so as to protrude beyond the lower lip. he believed himself to be a werewolf. one evening, meeting half a dozen young girls, he scared them out of their wits by telling them that as soon as the sun had set he would turn into a wolf and eat them for supper. a few days later, one little girl, having gone out at nightfall to look after the sheep, was attacked by some creature which in her terror she mistook for a wolf, but which afterwards proved to be none other than jean grenier. she beat him off with her sheep-staff, and fled home. as several children had mysteriously disappeared from the neighbourhood, grenier was at once suspected. being brought before the parliament of bordeaux, he stated that two years ago he had met the devil one night in the woods and had signed a compact with him and received from him a wolf-skin. since then he had roamed about as a wolf after dark, resuming his human shape by daylight. he had killed and eaten several children whom he had found alone in the fields, and on one occasion he had entered a house while the family were out and taken the baby from its cradle. a careful investigation proved the truth of these statements, so far as the cannibalism was concerned. there is no doubt that the missing children were eaten by jean grenier, and there is no doubt that in his own mind the halfwitted boy was firmly convinced that he was a wolf. here the lycanthropy was complete. in the year , "in a wild and unfrequented spot near caude, some countrymen came one day upon the corpse of a boy of fifteen, horribly mutilated and bespattered with blood. as the men approached, two wolves, which had been rending the body, bounded away into the thicket. the men gave chase immediately, following their bloody tracks till they lost them; when, suddenly crouching among the bushes, his teeth chattering with fear, they found a man half naked, with long hair and beard, and with his hands dyed in blood. his nails were long as claws, and were clotted with fresh gore and shreds of human flesh." [ ] this man, jacques roulet, was a poor, half-witted creature under the dominion of a cannibal appetite. he was employed in tearing to pieces the corpse of the boy when these countrymen came up. whether there were any wolves in the case, except what the excited imaginations of the men may have conjured up, i will not presume to determine; but it is certain that roulet supposed himself to be a wolf, and killed and ate several persons under the influence of the delusion. he was sentenced to death, but the parliament of paris reversed the sentence, and charitably shut him up in a madhouse. the annals of the middle ages furnish many cases similar to these of grenier and roulet. their share in maintaining the werewolf superstition is undeniable; but modern science finds in them nothing that cannot be readily explained. that stupendous process of breeding, which we call civilization, has been for long ages strengthening those kindly social feelings by the possession of which we are chiefly distinguished from the brutes, leaving our primitive bestial impulses to die for want of exercise, or checking in every possible way their further expansion by legislative enactments. but this process, which is transforming us from savages into civilized men, is a very slow one; and now and then there occur cases of what physiologists call atavism, or reversion to an ancestral type of character. now and then persons are born, in civilized countries, whose intellectual powers are on a level with those of the most degraded australian savage, and these we call idiots. and now and then persons are born possessed of the bestial appetites and cravings of primitive man, his fiendish cruelty and his liking for human flesh. modern physiology knows how to classify and explain these abnormal cases, but to the unscientific mediaeval mind they were explicable only on the hypothesis of a diabolical metamorphosis. and there is nothing strange in the fact that, in an age when the prevailing habits of thought rendered the transformation of men into beasts an easily admissible notion, these monsters of cruelty and depraved appetite should have been regarded as capable of taking on bestial forms. nor is it strange that the hallucination under which these unfortunate wretches laboured should have taken such a shape as to account to their feeble intelligence for the existence of the appetites which they were conscious of not sharing with their neighbours and contemporaries. if a myth is a piece of unscientific philosophizing, it must sometimes be applied to the explanation of obscure psychological as well as of physical phenomena. where the modern calmly taps his forehead and says, "arrested development," the terrified ancient made the sign of the cross and cried, "werewolf." we shall be assisted in this explanation by turning aside for a moment to examine the wild superstitions about "changelings," which contributed, along with so many others, to make the lives of our ancestors anxious and miserable. these superstitions were for the most part attempts to explain the phenomena of insanity, epilepsy, and other obscure nervous diseases. a man who has hitherto enjoyed perfect health, and whose actions have been consistent and rational, suddenly loses all self-control and seems actuated by a will foreign to himself. modern science possesses the key to this phenomenon; but in former times it was explicable only on the hypothesis that a demon had entered the body of the lunatic, or else that the fairies had stolen the real man and substituted for him a diabolical phantom exactly like him in stature and features. hence the numerous legends of changelings, some of which are very curious. in irish folk-lore we find the story of one rickard, surnamed the rake, from his worthless character. a good-natured, idle fellow, he spent all his evenings in dancing,--an accomplishment in which no one in the village could rival him. one night, in the midst of a lively reel, he fell down in a fit. "he's struck with a fairy-dart," exclaimed all the friends, and they carried him home and nursed him; but his face grew so thin and his manner so morose that by and by all began to suspect that the true rickard was gone and a changeling put in his place. rickard, with all his accomplishments, was no musician; and so, in order to put the matter to a crucial test, a bagpipe was left in the room by the side of his bed. the trick succeeded. one hot summer's day, when all were supposed to be in the field making hay, some members of the family secreted in a clothes-press saw the bedroom door open a little way, and a lean, foxy face, with a pair of deep-sunken eyes, peer anxiously about the premises. having satisfied itself that the coast was clear, the face withdrew, the door was closed, and presently such ravishing strains of music were heard as never proceeded from a bagpipe before or since that day. soon was heard the rustle of innumerable fairies, come to dance to the changeling's music. then the "fairy-man" of the village, who was keeping watch with the family, heated a pair of tongs red-hot, and with deafening shouts all burst at once into the sick-chamber. the music had ceased and the room was empty, but in at the window glared a fiendish face, with such fearful looks of hatred, that for a moment all stood motionless with terror. but when the fairy-man, recovering himself, advanced with the hot tongs to pinch its nose, it vanished with an unearthly yell, and there on the bed was rickard, safe and sound, and cured of his epilepsy. [ ] comparing this legend with numerous others relating to changelings, and stripping off the fantastic garb of fairy-lore with which popular imagination has invested them, it seems impossible to doubt that they have arisen from myths devised for the purpose of explaining the obscure phenomena of mental disease. if this be so, they afford an excellent collateral illustration of the belief in werewolves. the same mental habits which led men to regard the insane or epileptic person as a changeling, and which allowed them to explain catalepsy as the temporary departure of a witch's soul from its body, would enable them to attribute a wolf's nature to the maniac or idiot with cannibal appetites. and when the myth-forming process had got thus far, it would not stop short of assigning to the unfortunate wretch a tangible lupine body; for all ancient mythology teemed with precedents for such a transformation. it remains for us to sum up,--to tie into a bunch the keys which have helped us to penetrate into the secret causes of the werewolf superstition. in a previous paper we saw what a host of myths, fairy-tales, and superstitious observances have sprung from attempts to interpret one simple natural phenomenon,--the descent of fire from the clouds. here, on the other hand, we see what a heterogeneous multitude of mythical elements may combine to build up in course of time a single enormous superstition, and we see how curiously fact and fancy have co-operated in keeping the superstition from falling. in the first place the worship of dead ancestors with wolf totems originated the notion of the transformation of men into divine or superhuman wolves; and this notion was confirmed by the ambiguous explanation of the storm-wind as the rushing of a troop of dead men's souls or as the howling of wolf-like monsters. mediaeval christianity retained these conceptions, merely changing the superhuman wolves into evil demons; and finally the occurrence of cases of berserker madness and cannibalism, accompanied by lycanthropic hallucinations, being interpreted as due to such demoniacal metamorphosis, gave rise to the werewolf superstition of the middle ages. the etymological proceedings, to which mr. cox would incontinently ascribe the origin of the entire superstition, seemed to me to have played a very subordinate part in the matter. to suppose that jean grenier imagined himself to be a wolf, because the greek word for wolf sounded like the word for light, and thus gave rise to the story of a light-deity who became a wolf, seems to me quite inadmissible. yet as far as such verbal equivocations may have prevailed, they doubtless helped to sustain the delusion. thus we need no longer regard our werewolf as an inexplicable creature of undetermined pedigree. but any account of him would be quite imperfect which should omit all consideration of the methods by which his change of form was accomplished. by the ancient romans the werewolf was commonly called a "skin-changer" or "turn-coat" (versipellis), and similar epithets were applied to him in the middle ages the mediaeval theory was that, while the werewolf kept his human form, his hair grew inwards; when he wished to become a wolf, he simply turned himself inside out. in many trials on record, the prisoners were closely interrogated as to how this inversion might be accomplished; but i am not aware that any one of them ever gave a satisfactory answer. at the moment of change their memories seem to have become temporarily befogged. now and then a poor wretch had his arms and legs cut off, or was partially flayed, in order that the ingrowing hair might be detected. [ ] another theory was, that the possessed person had merely to put on a wolf's skin, in order to assume instantly the lupine form and character; and in this may perhaps be seen a vague reminiscence of the alleged fact that berserkers were in the habit of haunting the woods by night, clothed in the hides of wolves or bears. [ ] such a wolfskin was kept by the boy grenier. roulet, on the other hand, confessed to using a magic salve or ointment. a fourth method of becoming a werewolf was to obtain a girdle, usually made of human skin. several cases are related in thorpe's "northern mythology." one hot day in harvest-time some reapers lay down to sleep in the shade; when one of them, who could not sleep, saw the man next him arise quietly and gird him with a strap, whereupon he instantly vanished, and a wolf jumped up from among the sleepers and ran off across the fields. another man, who possessed such a girdle, once went away from home without remembering to lock it up. his little son climbed up to the cupboard and got it, and as he proceeded to buckle it around his waist, he became instantly transformed into a strange-looking beast. just then his father came in, and seizing the girdle restored the child to his natural shape. the boy said that no sooner had he buckled it on than he was tormented with a raging hunger. sometimes the werewolf transformation led to unlucky accidents. at caseburg, as a man and his wife were making hay, the woman threw down her pitchfork and went away, telling her husband that if a wild beast should come to him during her absence he must throw his hat at it. presently a she-wolf rushed towards him. the man threw his hat at it, but a boy came up from another part of the field and stabbed the animal with his pitchfork, whereupon it vanished, and the woman's dead body lay at his feet. a parallel legend shows that this woman wished to have the hat thrown at her, in order that she might be henceforth free from her liability to become a werewolf. a man was one night returning with his wife from a merry-making when he felt the change coming on. giving his wife the reins, he jumped from the wagon, telling her to strike with her apron at any animal which might come to her. in a few moments a wolf ran up to the side of the vehicle, and, as the woman struck out with her apron, it bit off a piece and ran away. presently the man returned with the piece of apron in his mouth and consoled his terrified wife with the information that the enchantment had left him forever. a terrible case at a village in auvergne has found its way into the annals of witchcraft. "a gentleman while hunting was suddenly attacked by a savage wolf of monstrous size. impenetrable by his shot, the beast made a spring upon the helpless huntsman, who in the struggle luckily, or unluckily for the unfortunate lady, contrived to cut off one of its fore-paws. this trophy he placed in his pocket, and made the best of his way homewards in safety. on the road he met a friend, to whom he exhibited a bleeding paw, or rather (as it now appeared) a woman's hand, upon which was a wedding-ring. his wife's ring was at once recognized by the other. his suspicions aroused, he immediately went in search of his wife, who was found sitting by the fire in the kitchen, her arm hidden beneath her apron, when the husband, seizing her by the arm, found his terrible suspicions verified. the bleeding stump was there, evidently just fresh from the wound. she was given into custody, and in the event was burned at riom, in presence of thousands of spectators." [ ] sometimes a werewolf was cured merely by recognizing him while in his brute shape. a swedish legend tells of a cottager who, on entering the forest one day without recollecting to say his patter noster, got into the power of a troll, who changed him into a wolf. for many years his wife mourned him as dead. but one christmas eve the old troll, disguised as a beggarwoman, came to the house for alms; and being taken in and kindly treated, told the woman that her husband might very likely appear to her in wolf-shape. going at night to the pantry to lay aside a joint of meat for tomorrow's dinner, she saw a wolf standing with its paws on the window-sill, looking wistfully in at her. "ah, dearest," said she, "if i knew that thou wert really my husband, i would give thee a bone." whereupon the wolf-skin fell off, and her husband stood before her in the same old clothes which he had on the day that the troll got hold of him. in denmark it was believed that if a woman were to creep through a colt's placental membrane stretched between four sticks, she would for the rest of her life bring forth children without pain or illness; but all the boys would in such case be werewolves, and all the girls maras, or nightmares. in this grotesque superstition appears that curious kinship between the werewolf and the wife or maiden of supernatural race, which serves admirably to illustrate the nature of both conceptions, and the elucidation of which shall occupy us throughout the remainder of this paper. it is, perhaps, needless to state that in the personality of the nightmare, or mara, there was nothing equine. the mara was a female demon, [ ] who would come at night and torment men or women by crouching on their chests or stomachs and stopping their respiration. the scene is well enough represented in fuseli's picture, though the frenzied-looking horse which there accompanies the demon has no place in the original superstition. a netherlandish story illustrates the character of the mara. two young men were in love with the same damsel. one of them, being tormented every night by a mara, sought advice from his rival, and it was a treacherous counsel that he got. "hold a sharp knife with the point towards your breast, and you'll never see the mara again," said this false friend. the lad thanked him, but when he lay down to rest he thought it as well to be on the safe side, and so held the knife handle downward. so when the mara came, instead of forcing the blade into his breast, she cut herself badly, and fled howling; and let us hope, though the legend here leaves us in the dark, that this poor youth, who is said to have been the comelier of the two, revenged himself on his malicious rival by marrying the young lady. but the mara sometimes appeared in less revolting shape, and became the mistress or even the wife of some mortal man to whom she happened to take a fancy. in such cases she would vanish on being recognized. there is a well-told monkish tale of a pious knight who, journeying one day through the forest, found a beautiful lady stripped naked and tied to a tree, her back all covered with deep gashes streaming with blood, from a flogging which some bandits had given her. of course he took her home to his castle and married her, and for a while they lived very happily together, and the fame of the lady's beauty was so great that kings and emperors held tournaments in honor of her. but this pious knight used to go to mass every sunday, and greatly was he scandalized when he found that his wife would never stay to assist in the credo, but would always get up and walk out of church just as the choir struck up. all her husband's coaxing was of no use; threats and entreaties were alike powerless even to elicit an explanation of this strange conduct. at last the good man determined to use force; and so one sunday, as the lady got up to go out, according to custom, he seized her by the arm and sternly commanded her to remain. her whole frame was suddenly convulsed, and her dark eyes gleamed with weird, unearthly brilliancy. the services paused for a moment, and all eyes were turned toward the knight and his lady. "in god's name, tell me what thou art," shouted the knight; and instantly, says the chronicler, "the bodily form of the lady melted away, and was seen no more; whilst, with a cry of anguish and of terror, an evil spirit of monstrous form rose from the ground, clave the chapel roof asunder, and disappeared in the air." in a danish legend, the mara betrays her affinity to the nixies, or swan-maidens. a peasant discovered that his sweetheart was in the habit of coming to him by night as a mara. he kept strict watch until he discovered her creeping into the room through a small knot-hole in the door. next day he made a peg, and after she had come to him, drove in the peg so that she was unable to escape. they were married and lived together many years; but one night it happened that the man, joking with his wife about the way in which he had secured her, drew the peg from the knot-hole, that she might see how she had entered his room. as she peeped through, she became suddenly quite small, passed out, and was never seen again. the well-known pathological phenomena of nightmare are sufficient to account for the mediaeval theory of a fiend who sits upon one's bosom and hinders respiration; but as we compare these various legends relating to the mara, we see that a more recondite explanation is needed to account for all her peculiarities. indigestion may interfere with our breathing, but it does not make beautiful women crawl through keyholes, nor does it bring wives from the spirit-world. the mara belongs to an ancient family, and in passing from the regions of monkish superstition to those of pure mythology we find that, like her kinsman the werewolf, she had once seen better days. christianity made a demon of the mara, and adopted the theory that satan employed these seductive creatures as agents for ruining human souls. such is the character of the knight's wife, in the monkish legend just cited. but in the danish tale the mara appears as one of that large family of supernatural wives who are permitted to live with mortal men under certain conditions, but who are compelled to flee away when these conditions are broken, as is always sure to be the case. the eldest and one of the loveliest of this family is the hindu nymph urvasi, whose love adventures with pururavas are narrated in the puranas, and form the subject of the well-known and exquisite sanskrit drama by kalidasa. urvasi is allowed to live with pururavas so long as she does not see him undressed. but one night her kinsmen, the gandharvas, or cloud-demons, vexed at her long absence from heaven, resolved to get her away from her mortal companion, they stole a pet lamb which had been tied at the foot of her couch, whereat she bitterly upbraided her husband. in rage and mortification, pururavas sprang up without throwing on his tunic, and grasping his sword sought the robber. then the wicked gandharvas sent a flash of lightning, and urvasi, seeing her naked husband, instantly vanished. the different versions of this legend, which have been elaborately analyzed by comparative mythologists, leave no doubt that urvasi is one of the dawn-nymphs or bright fleecy clouds of early morning, which vanish as the splendour of the sun is unveiled. we saw, in the preceding paper, that the ancient aryans regarded the sky as a sea or great lake, and that the clouds were explained variously as phaiakian ships with bird-like beaks sailing over this lake, or as bright birds of divers shapes and hues. the light fleecy cirrhi were regarded as mermaids, or as swans, or as maidens with swan's plumage. in sanskrit they are called apsaras, or "those who move in the water," and the elves and maras of teutonic mythology have the same significance. urvasi appears in one legend as a bird; and a south german prescription for getting rid of the mara asserts that if she be wrapped up in the bedclothes and firmly held, a white dove will forthwith fly from the room, leaving the bedclothes empty. [ ] in the story of melusina the cloud-maiden appears as a kind of mermaid, but in other respects the legend resembles that of urvasi. raymond, count de la foret, of poitou, having by an accident killed his patron and benefactor during a hunting excursion, fled in terror and despair into the deep recesses of the forest. all the afternoon and evening he wandered through the thick dark woods, until at midnight he came upon a strange scene. all at once "the boughs of the trees became less interlaced, and the trunks fewer; next moment his horse, crashing through the shrubs, brought him out on a pleasant glade, white with rime, and illumined by the new moon; in the midst bubbled up a limpid fountain, and flowed away over a pebbly-floor with a soothing murmur. near the fountain-head sat three maidens in glimmering white dresses, with long waving golden hair, and faces of inexpressible beauty." [ ] one of them advanced to meet raymond, and according to all mythological precedent, they were betrothed before daybreak. in due time the fountain-nymph [ ] became countess de la foret, but her husband was given to understand that all her saturdays would be passed in strictest seclusion, upon which he must never dare to intrude, under penalty of losing her forever. for many years all went well, save that the fair melusina's children were, without exception, misshapen or disfigured. but after a while this strange weekly seclusion got bruited about all over the neighbourhood, and people shook their heads and looked grave about it. so many gossiping tales came to the count's ears, that he began to grow anxious and suspicious, and at last he determined to know the worst. he went one saturday to melusina's private apartments, and going through one empty room after another, at last came to a locked door which opened into a bath; looking through a keyhole, there he saw the countess transformed from the waist downwards into a fish, disporting herself like a mermaid in the water. of course he could not keep the secret, but when some time afterwards they quarrelled, must needs address her as "a vile serpent, contaminator of his honourable race." so she disappeared through the window, but ever afterward hovered about her husband's castle of lusignan, like a banshee, whenever one of its lords was about to die. the well-known story of undine is similar to that of melusina, save that the naiad's desire to obtain a human soul is a conception foreign to the spirit of the myth, and marks the degradation which christianity had inflicted upon the denizens of fairy-land. in one of dasent's tales the water-maiden is replaced by a kind of werewolf. a white bear marries a young girl, but assumes the human shape at night. she is never to look upon him in his human shape, but how could a young bride be expected to obey such an injunction as that? she lights a candle while he is sleeping, and discovers the handsomest prince in the world; unluckily she drops tallow on his shirt, and that tells the story. but she is more fortunate than poor raymond, for after a tiresome journey to the "land east of the sun and west of the moon," and an arduous washing-match with a parcel of ugly trolls, she washes out the spots, and ends her husband's enchantment. [ ] in the majority of these legends, however, the apsaras, or cloud-maiden, has a shirt of swan's feathers which plays the same part as the wolfskin cape or girdle of the werewolf. if you could get hold of a werewolf's sack and burn it, a permanent cure was effected. no danger of a relapse, unless the devil furnished him with a new wolfskin. so the swan-maiden kept her human form, as long as she was deprived of her tunic of feathers. indo-european folk-lore teems with stories of swan-maidens forcibly wooed and won by mortals who had stolen their clothes. a man travelling along the road passes by a lake where several lovely girls are bathing; their dresses, made of feathers curiously and daintily woven, lie on the shore. he approaches the place cautiously and steals one of these dresses. [ ] when the girls have finished their bathing, they all come and get their dresses and swim away as swans; but the one whose dress is stolen must needs stay on shore and marry the thief. it is needless to add that they live happily together for many years, or that finally the good man accidentally leaves the cupboard door unlocked, whereupon his wife gets back her swan-shirt and flies away from him, never to return. but it is not always a shirt of feathers. in one german story, a nobleman hunting deer finds a maiden bathing in a clear pool in the forest. he runs stealthily up to her and seizes her necklace, at which she loses the power to flee. they are married, and she bears seven sons at once, all of whom have gold chains about their necks, and are able to transform themselves into swans whenever they like. a flemish legend tells of three nixies, or water-sprites, who came out of the meuse one autumn evening, and helped the villagers celebrate the end of the vintage. such graceful dancers had never been seen in flanders, and they could sing as well as they could dance. as the night was warm, one of them took off her gloves and gave them to her partner to hold for her. when the clock struck twelve the other two started off in hot haste, and then there was a hue and cry for gloves. the lad would keep them as love-tokens, and so the poor nixie had to go home without them; but she must have died on the way, for next morning the waters of the meuse were blood-red, and those damsels never returned. in the faro islands it is believed that seals cast off their skins every ninth night, assume human forms, and sing and dance like men and women until daybreak, when they resume their skins and their seal natures. of course a man once found and hid one of these sealskins, and so got a mermaid for a wife; and of course she recovered the skin and escaped. [ ] on the coasts of ireland it is supposed to be quite an ordinary thing for young sea-fairies to get human husbands in this way; the brazen things even come to shore on purpose, and leave their red caps lying around for young men to pick up; but it behooves the husband to keep a strict watch over the red cap, if he would not see his children left motherless. this mermaid's cap has contributed its quota to the superstitions of witchcraft. an irish story tells how red james was aroused from sleep one night by noises in the kitchen. going down to the door, he saw a lot of old women drinking punch around the fireplace, and laughing and joking with his housekeeper. when the punchbowl was empty, they all put on red caps, and singing "by yarrow and rue, and my red cap too, hie me over to england," they flew up chimney. so jimmy burst into the room, and seized the housekeeper's cap, and went along with them. they flew across the sea to a castle in england, passed through the keyholes from room to room and into the cellar, where they had a famous carouse. unluckily jimmy, being unused to such good cheer, got drunk, and forgot to put on his cap when the others did. so next morning the lord's butler found him dead-drunk on the cellar floor, surrounded by empty casks. he was sentenced to be hung without any trial worth speaking of; but as he was carted to the gallows an old woman cried out, "ach, jimmy alanna! would you be afther dyin' in a strange land without your red birredh?" the lord made no objections, and so the red cap was brought and put on him. accordingly when jimmy had got to the gallows and was making his last speech for the edification of the spectators, he unexpectedly and somewhat irrelevantly exclaimed, "by yarrow and rue," etc., and was off like a rocket, shooting through the blue air en route for old ireland. [ ] in another irish legend an enchanted ass comes into the kitchen of a great house every night, and washes the dishes and scours the tins, so that the servants lead an easy life of it. after a while in their exuberant gratitude they offer him any present for which he may feel inclined to ask. he desires only "an ould coat, to keep the chill off of him these could nights"; but as soon as he gets into the coat he resumes his human form and bids them good by, and thenceforth they may wash their own dishes and scour their own tins, for all him. but we are diverging from the subject of swan-maidens, and are in danger of losing ourselves in that labyrinth of popular fancies which is more intricate than any that daidalos ever planned. the significance of all these sealskins and feather-dresses and mermaid caps and werewolf-girdles may best be sought in the etymology of words like the german leichnam, in which the body is described as a garment of flesh for the soul. [ ] in the naive philosophy of primitive thinkers, the soul, in passing from one visible shape to another, had only to put on the outward integument of the creature in which it wished to incarnate itself. with respect to the mode of metamorphosis, there is little difference between the werewolf and the swan-maiden; and the similarity is no less striking between the genesis of the two conceptions. the original werewolf is the night-wind, regarded now as a manlike deity and now as a howling lupine fiend; and the original swan-maiden is the light fleecy cloud, regarded either as a woman-like goddess or as a bird swimming in the sky sea. the one conception has been productive of little else but horrors; the other has given rise to a great variety of fanciful creations, from the treacherous mermaid and the fiendish nightmare to the gentle undine, the charming nausikaa, and the stately muse of classic antiquity. we have seen that the original werewolf, howling in the wintry blast, is a kind of psychopomp, or leader of departed souls; he is the wild ancestor of the death-dog, whose voice under the window of a sick-chamber is even now a sound of ill-omen. the swan-maiden has also been supposed to summon the dying to her home in the phaiakian land. the valkyries, with their shirts of swan-plumage, who hovered over scandinavian battle-fields to receive the souls of falling heroes, were identical with the hindu apsaras; and the houris of the mussulman belong to the same family. even for the angels,--women with large wings, who are seen in popular pictures bearing mortals on high towards heaven,--we can hardly claim a different kinship. melusina, when she leaves the castle of lusignan, becomes a banshee; and it has been a common superstition among sailors, that the appearance of a mermaid, with her comb and looking-glass, foretokens shipwreck, with the loss of all on board. october, . iv. light and darkness. when maitland blasphemously asserted that god was but "a bogie of the nursery," he unwittingly made a remark as suggestive in point of philology as it was crude and repulsive in its atheism. when examined with the lenses of linguistic science, the "bogie" or "bug-a-boo" or "bugbear" of nursery lore turns out to be identical, not only with the fairy "puck," whom shakespeare has immortalized, but also with the slavonic "bog" and the "baga" of the cuneiform inscriptions, both of which are names for the supreme being. if we proceed further, and inquire after the ancestral form of these epithets,--so strangely incongruous in their significations,--we shall find it in the old aryan "bhaga," which reappears unchanged in the sanskrit of the vedas, and has left a memento of itself in the surname of the phrygian zeus "bagaios." it seems originally to have denoted either the unclouded sun or the sky of noonday illumined by the solar rays. in sayana's commentary on the rig-veda, bhaga is enumerated among the seven (or eight) sons of aditi, the boundless orient; and he is elsewhere described as the lord of life, the giver of bread, and the bringer of happiness. [ ] thus the same name which, to the vedic poet, to the persian of the time of xerxes, and to the modern russian, suggests the supreme majesty of deity, is in english associated with an ugly and ludicrous fiend, closely akin to that grotesque northern devil of whom southey was unable to think without laughing. such is the irony of fate toward a deposed deity. the german name for idol--abgott, that is, "ex-god," or "dethroned god"--sums up in a single etymology the history of the havoc wrought by monotheism among the ancient symbols of deity. in the hospitable pantheon of the greeks and romans a niche was always in readiness for every new divinity who could produce respectable credentials; but the triumph of monotheism converted the stately mansion into a pandemonium peopled with fiends. to the monotheist an "ex-god" was simply a devilish deceiver of mankind whom the true god had succeeded in vanquishing; and thus the word demon, which to the ancient meant a divine or semi-divine being, came to be applied to fiends exclusively. thus the teutonic races, who preserved the name of their highest divinity, odin,--originally, guodan,--by which to designate the god of the christian, [ ] were unable to regard the bog of ancient tradition as anything but an "ex-god," or vanquished demon. the most striking illustration of this process is to be found in the word devil itself: to a reader unfamiliar with the endless tricks which language delights in playing, it may seem shocking to be told that the gypsies use the word devil as the name of god. [ ] this, however, is not because these people have made the archfiend an object of worship, but because the gypsy language, descending directly from the sanskrit, has retained in its primitive exalted sense a word which the english language has received only in its debased and perverted sense. the teutonic words devil, teufel, diuval, djofull, djevful, may all be traced back to the zend dev, [ ] a name in which is implicitly contained the record of the oldest monotheistic revolution known to history. the influence of the so-called zoroastrian reform upon the long-subsequent development of christianity will receive further notice in the course of this paper; for the present it is enough to know that it furnished for all christendom the name by which it designates the author of evil. to the parsee follower of zarathustra the name of the devil has very nearly the same signification as to the christian; yet, as grimm has shown, it is nothing else than a corruption of deva, the sanskrit name for god. when zarathustra overthrew the primeval aryan nature-worship in bactria, this name met the same evil fate which in early christian times overtook the word demon, and from a symbol of reverence became henceforth a symbol of detestation. [ ] but throughout the rest of the aryan world it achieved a nobler career, producing the greek theos, the lithuanian diewas, the latin deus, and hence the modern french dieu, all meaning god. if we trace back this remarkable word to its primitive source in that once lost but now partially recovered mother-tongue from which all our aryan languages are descended, we find a root div or dyu, meaning "to shine." from the first-mentioned form comes deva, with its numerous progeny of good and evil appellatives; from the latter is derived the name of dyaus, with its brethren, zeus and jupiter. in sanskrit dyu, as a noun, means "sky" and "day"; and there are many passages in the rig-veda where the character of the god dyaus, as the personification of the sky or the brightness of the ethereal heavens, is unmistakably apparent. this key unlocks for us one of the secrets of greek mythology. so long as there was for zeus no better etymology than that which assigned it to the root zen, "to live," [ ] there was little hope of understanding the nature of zeus. but when we learn that zeus is identical with dyaus, the bright sky, we are enabled to understand horace's expression, "sub jove frigido," and the prayer of the athenians, "rain, rain, dear zeus, on the land of the athenians, and on the fields." [ ] such expressions as these were retained by the greeks and romans long after they had forgotten that their supreme deity was once the sky. yet even the brahman, from whose mind the physical significance of the god's name never wholly disappeared, could speak of him as father dyaus, the great pitri, or ancestor of gods and men; and in this reverential name dyaus pitar may be seen the exact equivalent of the roman's jupiter, or jove the father. the same root can be followed into old german, where zio is the god of day; and into anglo-saxon, where tiwsdaeg, or the day of zeus, is the ancestral form of tuesday. thus we again reach the same results which were obtained from the examination of the name bhaga. these various names for the supreme aryan god, which without the help afforded by the vedas could never have been interpreted, are seen to have been originally applied to the sun-illumined firmament. countless other examples, when similarly analyzed, show that the earliest aryan conception of a divine power, nourishing man and sustaining the universe, was suggested by the light of the mighty sun; who, as modern science has shown, is the originator of all life and motion upon the globe, and whom the ancients delighted to believe the source, not only of "the golden light," [ ] but of everything that is bright, joy-giving, and pure. nevertheless, in accepting this conclusion as well established by linguistic science, we must be on our guard against an error into which writers on mythology are very liable to fall. neither sky nor sun nor light of day, neither zeus nor apollo, neither dyaus nor indra, was ever worshipped by the ancient aryan in anything like a monotheistic sense. to interpret zeus or jupiter as originally the supreme aryan god, and to regard classic paganism as one of the degraded remnants of a primeval monotheism, is to sin against the canons of a sound inductive philosophy. philology itself teaches us that this could not have been so. father dyaus was originally the bright sky and nothing more. although his name became generalized, in the classic languages, into deus, or god, it is quite certain that in early days, before the aryan separation, it had acquired no such exalted significance. it was only in greece and rome--or, we may say, among the still united italo-hellenic tribes--that jupiter-zeus attained a pre-eminence over all other deities. the people of iran quite rejected him, the teutons preferred thor and odin, and in india he was superseded, first by indra, afterwards by brahma and vishnu. we need not, therefore, look for a single supreme divinity among the old aryans; nor may we expect to find any sense, active or dormant, of monotheism in the primitive intelligence of uncivilized men. [ ] the whole fabric of comparative mythology, as at present constituted, and as described above, in the first of these papers, rests upon the postulate that the earliest religion was pure fetichism. in the unsystematic nature-worship of the old aryans the gods are presented to us only as vague powers, with their nature and attributes dimly defined, and their relations to each other fluctuating and often contradictory. there is no theogony, no regular subordination of one deity to another. the same pair of divinities appear now as father and daughter, now as brother and sister, now as husband and wife; and again they quite lose their personality, and are represented as mere natural phenomena. as muller observes, "the poets of the veda indulged freely in theogonic speculations without being frightened by any contradictions. they knew of indra as the greatest of gods, they knew of agni as the god of gods, they knew of varuna as the ruler of all; but they were by no means startled at the idea that their indra had a mother, or that their agni [latin ignis] was born like a babe from the friction of two fire-sticks, or that varuna and his brother mitra were nursed in the lap of aditi." [ ] thus we have seen bhaga, the daylight, represented as the offspring, of aditi, the boundless orient; but he had several brothers, and among them were mitra, the sun, varuna, the overarching firmament, and vivasvat, the vivifying sun. manifestly we have here but so many different names for what is at bottom one and the same conception. the common element which, in dyaus and varuna, in bhaga and indra, was made an object of worship, is the brightness, warmth, and life of day, as contrasted with the darkness, cold, and seeming death of the night-time. and this common element was personified in as many different ways as the unrestrained fancy of the ancient worshipper saw fit to devise. [ ] thus we begin to see why a few simple objects, like the sun, the sky, the dawn, and the night, should be represented in mythology by such a host of gods, goddesses, and heroes. for at one time the sun is represented as the conqueror of hydras and dragons who hide away from men the golden treasures of light and warmth, and at another time he is represented as a weary voyager traversing the sky-sea amid many perils, with the steadfast purpose of returning to his western home and his twilight bride; hence the different conceptions of herakles, bellerophon, and odysseus. now he is represented as the son of the dawn, and again, with equal propriety, as the son of the night, and the fickle lover of the dawn; hence we have, on the one hand, stories of a virgin mother who dies in giving birth to a hero, and, on the other hand, stories of a beautiful maiden who is forsaken and perhaps cruelly slain by her treacherous lover. indeed, the sun's adventures with so many dawn-maidens have given him quite a bad character, and the legends are numerous in which he appears as the prototype of don juan. yet again his separation from the bride of his youth is described as due to no fault of his own, but to a resistless decree of fate, which hurries him away as aineias was compelled to abandon dido. or, according to a third and equally plausible notion, he is a hero of ascetic virtues, and the dawn-maiden is a wicked enchantress, daughter of the sensual aphrodite, who vainly endeavours to seduce him. in the story of odysseus these various conceptions are blended together. when enticed by artful women, [ ] he yields for a while to the temptation; but by and by his longing to see penelope takes him homeward, albeit with a record which penelope might not altogether have liked. again, though the sun, "always roaming with a hungry heart," has seen many cities and customs of strange men, he is nevertheless confined to a single path,--a circumstance which seems to have occasioned much speculation in the primeval mind. garcilaso de la vega relates of a certain peruvian inca, who seems to have been an "infidel" with reference to the orthodox mythology of his day, that he thought the sun was not such a mighty god after all; for if he were, he would wander about the heavens at random instead of going forever, like a horse in a treadmill, along the same course. the american indians explained this circumstance by myths which told how the sun was once caught and tied with a chain which would only let him swing a little way to one side or the other. the ancient aryan developed the nobler myth of the labours of herakles, performed in obedience to the bidding of eurystheus. again, the sun must needs destroy its parents, the night and the dawn; and accordingly his parents, forewarned by prophecy, expose him in infancy, or order him to be put to death; but his tragic destiny never fails to be accomplished to the letter. and again the sun, who engages in quarrels not his own, is sometimes represented as retiring moodily from the sight of men, like achilleus and meleagros: he is short-lived and ill-fated, born to do much good and to be repaid with ingratitude; his life depends on the duration of a burning brand, and when that is extinguished he must die. the myth of the great theban hero, oidipous, well illustrates the multiplicity of conceptions which clustered about the daily career of the solar orb. his father, laios, had been warned by the delphic oracle that he was in danger of death from his own son. the newly born oidipous was therefore exposed on the hillside, but, like romulus and remus, and all infants similarly situated in legend, was duly rescued. he was taken to corinth, where he grew up to manhood. journeying once to thebes, he got into a quarrel with an old man whom he met on the road, and slew him, who was none other than his father, laios. reaching thebes, he found the city harassed by the sphinx, who afflicted the land with drought until she should receive an answer to her riddles. oidipous destroyed the monster by solving her dark sayings, and as a reward received the kingdom, with his own mother, iokaste, as his bride. then the erinyes hastened the discovery of these dark deeds; iokaste died in her bridal chamber; and oidipous, having blinded himself, fled to the grove of the eumenides, near athens, where, amid flashing lightning and peals of thunder, he died. oidipous is the sun. like all the solar heroes, from herakles and perseus to sigurd and william tell, he performs his marvellous deeds at the behest of others. his father, laios, is none other than the vedic dasyu, the night-demon who is sure to be destroyed by his solar offspring in the evening, oidipous is united to the dawn, the mother who had borne him at daybreak; and here the original story doubtless ended. in the vedic hymns we find indra, the sun, born of dahana (daphne), the dawn, whom he afterwards, in the evening twilight, marries. to the indian mind the story was here complete; but the greeks had forgotten and outgrown the primitive signification of the myth. to them oidipous and iokaste were human, or at least anthropomorphic beings; and a marriage between them was a fearful crime which called for bitter expiation. thus the latter part of the story arose in the effort to satisfy a moral feeling as the name of laios denotes the dark night, so, like iole, oinone, and iamos, the word iokaste signifies the delicate violet tints of the morning and evening clouds. oidipous was exposed, like paris upon ida (a vedic word meaning "the earth"), because the sunlight in the morning lies upon the hillside. [ ] he is borne on to the destruction of his father and the incestuous marriage with his mother by an irresistible moira, or fate; the sun cannot but slay the darkness and hasten to the couch of the violet twilight. [ ] the sphinx is the storm-demon who sits on the cloud-rock and imprisons the rain; she is the same as medusa, ahi, or echidna, and chimaira, and is akin to the throttling snakes of darkness which the jealous here sent to destroy herakles in his cradle. the idea was not derived from egypt, but the greeks, on finding egyptian figures resembling their conception of the sphinx, called them by the same name. the omniscient sun comprehends the sense of her dark mutterings, and destroys her, as indra slays vritra, bringing down rain upon the parched earth. the erinyes, who bring to light the crimes of oidipous, have been explained, in a previous paper, as the personification of daylight, which reveals the evil deeds done under the cover of night. the grove of the erinyes, like the garden of the hyperboreans, represents "the fairy network of clouds, which are the first to receive and the last to lose the light of the sun in the morning and in the evening; hence, although oidipous dies in a thunder-storm, yet the eumenides are kind to him, and his last hour is one of deep peace and tranquillity." [ ] to the last remains with him his daughter antigone, "she who is born opposite," the pale light which springs up opposite to the setting sun. these examples show that a story-root may be as prolific of heterogeneous offspring as a word-root. just as we find the root spak, "to look," begetting words so various as sceptic, bishop, speculate, conspicsuous, species, and spice, we must expect to find a simple representation of the diurnal course of the sun, like those lyrically given in the veda, branching off into stories as diversified as those of oidipous, herakles, odysseus, and siegfried. in fact, the types upon which stories are constructed are wonderfully few. some clever playwright--i believe it was scribe--has said that there are only seven possible dramatic situations; that is, all the plays in the world may be classed with some one of seven archetypal dramas. [ ] if this be true, the astonishing complexity of mythology taken in the concrete, as compared with its extreme simplicity when analyzed, need not surprise us. the extreme limits of divergence between stories descended from a common root are probably reached in the myths of light and darkness with which the present discussion is mainly concerned the subject will be best elucidated by taking a single one of these myths and following its various fortunes through different regions of the aryan world. the myth of hercules and cacus has been treated by m. breal in an essay which is one of the most valuable contributions ever made to the study of comparative mythology; and while following his footsteps our task will be an easy one. the battle between hercules and cacus, although one of the oldest of the traditions common to the whole indo-european race, appears in italy as a purely local legend, and is narrated as such by virgil, in the eighth book of the aeneid; by livy, at the beginning of his history; and by propertius and ovid. hercules, journeying through italy after his victory over geryon, stops to rest by the bank of the tiber. while he is taking his repose, the three-headed monster cacus, a son of vulcan and a formidable brigand, comes and steals his cattle, and drags them tail-foremost to a secret cavern in the rocks. but the lowing of the cows arouses hercules, and he runs toward the cavern where the robber, already frightened, has taken refuge. armed with a huge flinty rock, he breaks open the entrance of the cavern, and confronts the demon within, who vomits forth flames at him and roars like the thunder in the storm-cloud. after a short combat, his hideous body falls at the feet of the invincible hero, who erects on the spot an altar to jupiter inventor, in commemoration of the recovery of his cattle. ancient rome teemed with reminiscences of this event, which livy regarded as first in the long series of the exploits of his countrymen. the place where hercules pastured his oxen was known long after as the forum boarium; near it the porta trigemina preserved the recollection of the monster's triple head; and in the time of diodorus siculus sight-seers were shown the cavern of cacus on the slope of the aventine. every tenth day the earlier generations of romans celebrated the victory with solemn sacrifices at the ara maxima; and on days of triumph the fortunate general deposited there a tithe of his booty, to be distributed among the citizens. in this famous myth, however, the god hercules did not originally figure. the latin hercules was an essentially peaceful and domestic deity, watching over households and enclosures, and nearly akin to terminus and the penates. he does not appear to have been a solar divinity at all. but the purely accidental resemblance of his name to that of the greek deity herakles, [ ] and the manifest identity of the cacus-myth with the story of the victory of herakles over geryon, led to the substitution of hercules for the original hero of the legend, who was none other than jupiter, called by his sabine name sancus. now johannes lydus informs us that, in sabine, sancus signified "the sky," a meaning which we have already seen to belong to the name jupiter. the same substitution of the greek hero for the roman divinity led to the alteration of the name of the demon overcome by his thunderbolts. the corrupted title cacus was supposed to be identical with the greek word kakos, meaning "evil" and the corruption was suggested by the epithet of herakles, alexikakos, or "the averter of ill." originally, however, the name was caecius, "he who blinds or darkens," and it corresponds literally to the name of the greek demon kaikias, whom an old proverb, preserved by aulus gellius, describes as a stealer of the clouds. [ ] thus the significance of the myth becomes apparent. the three-headed cacus is seen to be a near kinsman of geryon's three-headed dog orthros, and of the three-headed kerberos, the hell-hound who guards the dark regions below the horizon. he is the original werewolf or rakshasa, the fiend of the storm who steals the bright cattle of helios, and hides them in the black cavernous rock, from which they are afterwards rescued by the schamir or lightning-stone of the solar hero. the physical character of the myth is apparent even in the description of virgil, which reads wonderfully like a vedic hymn in celebration of the exploits of indra. but when we turn to the veda itself, we find the correctness of the interpretation demonstrated again and again, with inexhaustible prodigality of evidence. here we encounter again the three-headed orthros under the identical title of vritra, "he who shrouds or envelops," called also cushna, "he who parches," pani, "the robber," and ahi, "the strangler." in many hymns of the rig-veda the story is told over and over, like a musical theme arranged with variations. indra, the god of light, is a herdsman who tends a herd of bright golden or violet-coloured cattle. vritra, a snake-like monster with three heads, steals them and hides them in a cavern, but indra slays him as jupiter slew caecius, and the cows are recovered. the language of the myth is so significant, that the hindu commentators of the veda have themselves given explanations of it similar to those proposed by modern philologists. to them the legend never became devoid of sense, as the myth of geryon appeared to greek scholars like apollodoros. [ ] these celestial cattle, with their resplendent coats of purple and gold, are the clouds lit up by the solar rays; but the demon who steals them is not always the fiend of the storm, acting in that capacity. they are stolen every night by vritra the concealer, and caecius the darkener, and indra is obliged to spend hours in looking for them, sending sarama, the inconstant twilight, to negotiate for their recovery. between the storm-myth and the myth of night and morning the resemblance is sometimes so close as to confuse the interpretation of the two. many legends which max muller explains as myths of the victory of day over night are explained by dr. kuhn as storm-myths; and the disagreement between two such powerful champions would be a standing reproach to what is rather prematurely called the science of comparative mythology, were it not easy to show that the difference is merely apparent and non-essential. it is the old story of the shield with two sides; and a comparison of the ideas fundamental to these myths will show that there is no valid ground for disagreement in the interpretation of them. the myths of schamir and the divining-rod, analyzed in a previous paper, explain the rending of the thunder-cloud and the procuring of water without especial reference to any struggle between opposing divinities. but in the myth of hercules and cacus, the fundamental idea is the victory of the solar god over the robber who steals the light. now whether the robber carries off the light in the evening when indra has gone to sleep, or boldly rears his black form against the sky during the daytime, causing darkness to spread over the earth, would make little difference to the framers of the myth. to a chicken a solar eclipse is the same thing as nightfall, and he goes to roost accordingly. why, then, should the primitive thinker have made a distinction between the darkening of the sky caused by black clouds and that caused by the rotation of the earth? he had no more conception of the scientific explanation of these phenomena than the chicken has of the scientific explanation of an eclipse. for him it was enough to know that the solar radiance was stolen, in the one case as in the other, and to suspect that the same demon was to blame for both robberies. the veda itself sustains this view. it is certain that the victory of indra over vritra is essentially the same as his victory over the panis. vritra, the storm-fiend, is himself called one of the panis; yet the latter are uniformly represented as night-demons. they steal indra's golden cattle and drive them by circuitous paths to a dark hiding-place near the eastern horizon. indra sends the dawn-nymph, sarama, to search for them, but as she comes within sight of the dark stable, the panis try to coax her to stay with them: "let us make thee our sister, do not go away again; we will give thee part of the cows, o darling." [ ] according to the text of this hymn, she scorns their solicitations, but elsewhere the fickle dawn-nymph is said to coquet with the powers of darkness. she does not care for their cows, but will take a drink of milk, if they will be so good as to get it for her. then she goes back and tells indra that she cannot find the cows. he kicks her with his foot, and she runs back to the panis, followed by the god, who smites them all with his unerring arrows and recovers the stolen light. from such a simple beginning as this has been deduced the greek myth of the faithlessness of helen. [ ] these night-demons, the panis, though not apparently regarded with any strong feeling of moral condemnation, are nevertheless hated and dreaded as the authors of calamity. they not only steal the daylight, but they parch the earth and wither the fruits, and they slay vegetation during the winter months. as caecius, the "darkener," became ultimately changed into cacus, the "evil one," so the name of vritra, the "concealer," the most famous of the panis, was gradually generalized until it came to mean "enemy," like the english word fiend, and began to be applied indiscriminately to any kind of evil spirit. in one place he is called adeva, the "enemy of the gods," an epithet exactly equivalent to the persian dev. in the zendavesta the myth of hercules and cacus has given rise to a vast system of theology. the fiendish panis are concentrated in ahriman or anro-mainyas, whose name signifies the "spirit of darkness," and who carries on a perpetual warfare against ormuzd or ahuramazda, who is described by his ordinary surname, spentomainyas, as the "spirit of light." the ancient polytheism here gives place to a refined dualism, not very different from what in many christian sects has passed current as monotheism. ahriman is the archfiend, who struggles with ormuzd, not for the possession of a herd of perishable cattle, but for the dominion of the universe. ormuzd creates the world pure and beautiful, but ahriman comes after him and creates everything that is evil in it. he not only keeps the earth covered with darkness during half of the day, and withholds the rain and destroys the crops, but he is the author of all evil thoughts and the instigator of all wicked actions. like his progenitor vritra and his offspring satan, he is represented under the form of a serpent; and the destruction which ultimately awaits these demons is also in reserve for him. eventually there is to be a day of reckoning, when ahriman will be bound in chains and rendered powerless, or when, according to another account, he will be converted to righteousness, as burns hoped and origen believed would be the case with satan. this dualism of the ancient persians has exerted a powerful influence upon the development of christian theology. the very idea of an archfiend satan, which christianity received from judaism, seems either to have been suggested by the persian ahriman, or at least to have derived its principal characteristics from that source. there is no evidence that the jews, previous to the babylonish captivity, possessed the conception of a devil as the author of all evil. in the earlier books of the old testament jehovah is represented as dispensing with his own hand the good and the evil, like the zeus of the iliad. [ ] the story of the serpent in eden--an aryan story in every particular, which has crept into the pentateuch--is not once alluded to in the old testament; and the notion of satan as the author of evil appears only in the later books, composed after the jews had come into close contact with persian ideas. [ ] in the book of job, as reville observes, satan is "still a member of the celestial court, being one of the sons of the elohim, but having as his special office the continual accusation of men, and having become so suspicious by his practice as public accuser, that he believes in the virtue of no one, and always presupposes interested motives for the purest manifestations of human piety." in this way the character of this angel became injured, and he became more and more an object of dread and dislike to men, until the later jews ascribed to him all the attributes of ahriman, and in this singularly altered shape he passed into christian theology. between the satan of the book of job and the mediaeval devil the metamorphosis is as great as that which degraded the stern erinys, who brings evil deeds to light, into the demon-like fury who torments wrong-doers in tartarus; and, making allowance for difference of circumstances, the process of degradation has been very nearly the same in the two cases. the mediaeval conception of the devil is a grotesque compound of elements derived from all the systems of pagan mythology which christianity superseded. he is primarily a rebellious angel, expelled from heaven along with his followers, like the giants who attempted to scale olympos, and like the impious efreets of arabian legend who revolted against the beneficent rule of solomon. as the serpent prince of the outer darkness, he retains the old characteristics of vritra, ahi, typhon, and echidna. as the black dog which appears behind the stove in dr. faust's study, he is the classic hell-hound kerberos, the vedic carvara. from the sylvan deity pan he gets his goat-like body, his horns and cloven hoofs. like the wind-god orpheus, to whose music the trees bent their heads to listen, he is an unrivalled player on the bagpipes. like those other wind-gods the psychopomp hermes and the wild huntsman odin, he is the prince of the powers of the air: his flight through the midnight sky, attended by his troop of witches mounted on their brooms, which sometimes break the boughs and sweep the leaves from the trees, is the same as the furious chase of the erlking odin or the burckar vittikab. he is dionysos, who causes red wine to flow from the dry wood, alike on the deck of the tyrrhenian pirate-ship and in auerbach's cellar at leipzig. he is wayland, the smith, a skilful worker in metals and a wonderful architect, like the classic fire-god hephaistos or vulcan; and, like hephaistos, he is lame from the effects of his fall from heaven. from the lightning-god thor he obtains his red beard, his pitchfork, and his power over thunderbolts; and, like that ancient deity, he is in the habit of beating his wife behind the door when the rain falls during sunshine. finally, he takes a hint from poseidon and from the swan-maidens, and appears as a water-imp or nixy (whence probably his name of old nick), and as the davy (deva) whose "locker" is situated at the bottom of the sea. [ ] according to the scotch divines of the seventeenth century, the devil is a learned scholar and profound thinker. having profited by six thousand years of intense study and meditation, he has all science, philosophy, and theology at his tongue's end; and, as his skill has increased with age, he is far more than a match for mortals in cunning. [ ] such, however, is not the view taken by mediaeval mythology, which usually represents his stupidity as equalling his malignity. the victory of hercules over cacus is repeated in a hundred mediaeval legends in which the devil is overreached and made a laughing-stock. the germ of this notion may be found in the blinding of polyphemos by odysseus, which is itself a victory of the sun-hero over the night-demon, and which curiously reappears in a middle-age story narrated by mr. cox. "the devil asks a man who is moulding buttons what he may be doing; and when the man answers that he is moulding eyes, asks him further whether he can give him a pair of new eyes. he is told to come again another day; and when he makes his appearance accordingly, the man tells him that the operation cannot be performed rightly unless he is first tightly bound with his back fastened to a bench. while he is thus pinioned he asks the man's name. the reply is issi (`himself'). when the lead is melted, the devil opens his eyes wide to receive the deadly stream. as soon as he is blinded, he starts up in agony, bearing away the bench to which he had been bound; and when some workpeople in the fields ask him who had thus treated him, his answer is, 'issi teggi' (`self did it'). with a laugh they bid him lie on the bed which he has made: 'selbst gethan, selbst habe.' the devil died of his new eyes, and was never seen again." in his attempts to obtain human souls the devil is frequently foiled by the superior cunning of mortals. once, he agreed to build a house for a peasant in exchange for the peasant's soul; but if the house were not finished before cockcrow, the contract was to be null and void. just as the devil was putting on the last tile the man imitated a cockcrow and waked up all the roosters in the neighbourhood, so that the fiend had his labour for his pains. a merchant of louvain once sold himself to the devil, who heaped upon him all manner of riches for seven years, and then came to get him. the merchant "took the devil in a friendly manner by the hand and, as it was just evening, said, 'wife, bring a light quickly for the gentleman.' 'that is not at all necessary,' said the devil; 'i am merely come to fetch you.' 'yes, yes, that i know very well,' said the merchant, 'only just grant me the time till this little candle-end is burnt out, as i have a few letters to sign and to put on my coat.' 'very well,' said the devil, 'but only till the candle is burnt out.' 'good,' said the merchant, and going into the next room, ordered the maid-servant to place a large cask full of water close to a very deep pit that was dug in the garden. the men-servants also carried, each of them, a cask to the spot; and when all was done, they were ordered each to take a shovel, and stand round the pit. the merchant then returned to the devil, who seeing that not more than about an inch of candle remained, said, laughing, 'now get yourself ready, it will soon be burnt out.' 'that i see, and am content; but i shall hold you to your word, and stay till it is burnt.' 'of course,' answered the devil; 'i stick to my word.' 'it is dark in the next room,' continued the merchant, 'but i must find the great book with clasps, so let me just take the light for one moment.' 'certainly,' said the devil, 'but i'll go with you.' he did so, and the merchant's trepidation was now on the increase. when in the next room he said on a sudden, 'ah, now i know, the key is in the garden door.' and with these words he ran out with the light into the garden, and before the devil could overtake him, threw it into the pit, and the men and the maids poured water upon it, and then filled up the hole with earth. now came the devil into the garden and asked, 'well, did you get the key? and how is it with the candle? where is it?' 'the candle?' said the merchant. 'yes, the candle.' 'ha, ha, ha! it is not yet burnt out,' answered the merchant, laughing, 'and will not be burnt out for the next fifty years; it lies there a hundred fathoms deep in the earth.' when the devil heard this he screamed awfully, and went off with a most intolerable stench." [ ] one day a fowler, who was a terrible bungler and could n't hit a bird at a dozen paces, sold his soul to the devil in order to become a freischutz. the fiend was to come for him in seven years, but must be always able to name the animal at which he was shooting, otherwise the compact was to be nullified. after that day the fowler never missed his aim, and never did a fowler command such wages. when the seven years were out the fowler told all these things to his wife, and the twain hit upon an expedient for cheating the devil. the woman stripped herself, daubed her whole body with molasses, and rolled herself up in a feather-bed, cut open for this purpose. then she hopped and skipped about the field where her husband stood parleying with old nick. "there's a shot for you, fire away," said the devil. "of course i'll fire, but do you first tell me what kind of a bird it is; else our agreement is cancelled, old boy." there was no help for it; the devil had to own himself nonplussed, and off he fled, with a whiff of brimstone which nearly suffocated the freischutz and his good woman. [ ] in the legend of gambrinus, the fiend is still more ingloriously defeated. gambrinus was a fiddler, who, being jilted by his sweetheart, went out into the woods to hang himself. as he was sitting on the bough, with the cord about his neck, preparatory to taking the fatal plunge, suddenly a tall man in a green coat appeared before him, and offered his services. he might become as wealthy as he liked, and make his sweetheart burst with vexation at her own folly, but in thirty years he must give up his soul to beelzebub. the bargain was struck, for gambrinus thought thirty years a long time to enjoy one's self in, and perhaps the devil might get him in any event; as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb. aided by satan, he invented chiming-bells and lager-beer, for both of which achievements his name is held in grateful remembrance by the teuton. no sooner had the holy roman emperor quaffed a gallon or two of the new beverage than he made gambrinus duke of brabant and count of flanders, and then it was the fiddler's turn to laugh at the discomfiture of his old sweetheart. gambrinus kept clear of women, says the legend, and so lived in peace. for thirty years he sat beneath his belfry with the chimes, meditatively drinking beer with his nobles and burghers around him. then beelzebub sent jocko, one of his imps, with orders to bring back gambrinus before midnight. but jocko was, like swiveller's marchioness, ignorant of the taste of beer, never having drunk of it even in a sip, and the flemish schoppen were too much for him. he fell into a drunken sleep, and did not wake up until noon next day, at which he was so mortified that he had not the face to go back to hell at all. so gambrinus lived on tranquilly for a century or two, and drank so much beer that he turned into a beer-barrel. [ ] the character of gullibility attributed to the devil in these legends is probably derived from the trolls, or "night-folk," of northern mythology. in most respects the trolls resemble the teutonic elves and fairies, and the jinn or efreets of the arabian nights; but their pedigree is less honourable. the fairies, or "white ladies," were not originally spirits of darkness, but were nearly akin to the swan-maidens, dawn-nymphs, and dryads, and though their wrath was to be dreaded, they were not malignant by nature. christianity, having no place for such beings, degraded them into something like imps; the most charitable theory being that they were angels who had remained neutral during satan's rebellion, in punishment for which michael expelled them from heaven, but has left their ultimate fate unannounced until the day of judgment. the jinn appear to have been similarly degraded on the rise of mohammedanism. but the trolls were always imps of darkness. they are descended from the jotuns, or frost-giants of northern paganism, and they correspond to the panis, or night-demons of the veda. in many norse tales they are said to burst when they see the risen sun. [ ] they eat human flesh, are ignorant of the simplest arts, and live in the deepest recesses of the forest or in caverns on the hillside, where the sunlight never penetrates. some of these characteristics may very likely have been suggested by reminiscences of the primeval lapps, from whom the aryan invaders wrested the dominion of europe. [ ] in some legends the trolls are represented as an ancient race of beings now superseded by the human race. "'what sort of an earth-worm is this?' said one giant to another, when they met a man as they walked. 'these are the earth-worms that will one day eat us up, brother,' answered the other; and soon both giants left that part of germany." "'see what pretty playthings, mother!' cries the giant's daughter, as she unties her apron, and shows her a plough, and horses, and a peasant. 'back with them this instant,' cries the mother in wrath, 'and put them down as carefully as you can, for these playthings can do our race great harm, and when these come we must budge.'" very naturally the primitive teuton, possessing already the conception of night-demons, would apply it to these men of the woods whom even to this day his uneducated descendants believe to be sorcerers, able to turn men into wolves. but whatever contributions historical fact may have added to his character, the troll is originally a creation of mythology, like polyphemos, whom he resembles in his uncouth person, his cannibal appetite, and his lack of wit. his ready gullibility is shown in the story of "boots who ate a match with the troll." boots, the brother of cinderella, and the counterpart alike of jack the giant-killer, and of odysseus, is the youngest of three brothers who go into a forest to cut wood. the troll appears and threatens to kill any one who dares to meddle with his timber. the elder brothers flee, but boots puts on a bold face. he pulled a cheese out of his scrip and squeezed it till the whey began to spurt out. "hold your tongue, you dirty troll," said he, "or i'll squeeze you as i squeeze this stone." so the troll grew timid and begged to be spared, [ ] and boots let him off on condition that he would hew all day with him. they worked till nightfall, and the troll's giant strength accomplished wonders. then boots went home with the troll, having arranged that he should get the water while his host made the fire. when they reached the hut there were two enormous iron pails, so heavy that none but a troll could lift them, but boots was not to be frightened. "bah!" said he. "do you suppose i am going to get water in those paltry hand-basins? hold on till i go and get the spring itself!" "o dear!" said the troll, "i'd rather not; do you make the fire, and i'll get the water." then when the soup was made, boots challenged his new friend to an eating-match; and tying his scrip in front of him, proceeded to pour soup into it by the ladleful. by and by the giant threw down his spoon in despair, and owned himself conquered. "no, no! don't give it up yet," said boots, "just cut a hole in your stomach like this, and you can eat forever." and suiting the action to the words, he ripped open his scrip. so the silly troll cut himself open and died, and boots carried off all his gold and silver. once there was a troll whose name was wind-and-weather, and saint olaf hired him to build a church. if the church were completed within a certain specified time, the troll was to get possession of saint olaf. the saint then planned such a stupendous edifice that he thought the giant would be forever building it; but the work went on briskly, and at the appointed day nothing remained but to finish the point of the spire. in his consternation olaf rushed about until he passed by the troll's den, when he heard the giantess telling her children that their father, wind-and-weather, was finishing his church, and would be home to-morrow with saint olaf. so the saint ran back to the church and bawled out, "hold on, wind-and-weather, your spire is crooked!" then the giant tumbled down from the roof and broke into a thousand pieces. as in the cases of the mara and the werewolf, the enchantment was at an end as soon as the enchanter was called by name. these trolls, like the arabian efreets, had an ugly habit of carrying off beautiful princesses. this is strictly in keeping with their character as night-demons, or panis. in the stories of punchkin and the heartless giant, the night-demon carries off the dawn-maiden after having turned into stone her solar brethren. but boots, or indra, in search of his kinsfolk, by and by arrives at the troll's castle, and then the dawn-nymph, true to her fickle character, cajoles the giant and enables boots to destroy him. in the famous myth which serves as the basis for the volsunga saga and the nibelungenlied, the dragon fafnir steals the valkyrie brynhild and keeps her shut up in a castle on the glistening heath, until some champion shall be found powerful enough to rescue her. the castle is as hard to enter as that of the sleeping beauty; but sigurd, the northern achilleus, riding on his deathless horse, and wielding his resistless sword gram, forces his way in, slays fafnir, and recovers the valkyrie. in the preceding paper the valkyries were shown to belong to the class of cloud-maidens; and between the tale of sigurd and that of hercules and cacus there is no difference, save that the bright sunlit clouds which are represented in the one as cows are in the other represented as maidens. in the myth of the argonauts they reappear as the golden fleece, carried to the far east by phrixos and helle, who are themselves niblungs, or "children of the mist" (nephele), and there guarded by a dragon. in all these myths a treasure is stolen by a fiend of darkness, and recovered by a hero of light, who slays the demon. and--remembering what scribe said about the fewness of dramatic types--i believe we are warranted in asserting that all the stories of lovely women held in bondage by monsters, and rescued by heroes who perform wonderful tasks, such as don quixote burned to achieve, are derived ultimately from solar myths, like the myth of sigurd and brynhild. i do not mean to say that the story-tellers who beguiled their time in stringing together the incidents which make up these legends were conscious of their solar character. they did not go to work, with malice prepense, to weave allegories and apologues. the greeks who first told the story of perseus and andromeda, the arabians who devised the tale of codadad and his brethren, the flemings who listened over their beer-mugs to the adventures of culotte-verte, were not thinking of sun-gods or dawn-maidens, or night-demons; and no theory of mythology can be sound which implies such an extravagance. most of these stories have lived on the lips of the common people; and illiterate persons are not in the habit of allegorizing in the style of mediaeval monks or rabbinical commentators. but what has been amply demonstrated is, that the sun and the clouds, the light and the darkness, were once supposed to be actuated by wills analogous to the human will; that they were personified and worshipped or propitiated by sacrifice; and that their doings were described in language which applied so well to the deeds of human or quasi-human beings that in course of time its primitive purport faded from recollection. no competent scholar now doubts that the myths of the veda and the edda originated in this way, for philology itself shows that the names employed in them are the names of the great phenomena of nature. and when once a few striking stories had thus arisen,--when once it had been told how indra smote the panis, and how sigurd rescued brynhild, and how odysseus blinded the kyklops,--then certain mythic or dramatic types had been called into existence; and to these types, preserved in the popular imagination, future stories would inevitably conform. we need, therefore, have no hesitation in admitting a common origin for the vanquished panis and the outwitted troll or devil; we may securely compare the legends of st. george and jack the giant-killer with the myth of indra slaying vritra; we may see in the invincible sigurd the prototype of many a doughty knight-errant of romance; and we may learn anew the lesson, taught with fresh emphasis by modern scholarship, that in the deepest sense there is nothing new under the sun. i am the more explicit on this point, because it seems to me that the unguarded language of many students of mythology is liable to give rise to misapprehensions, and to discredit both the method which they employ and the results which they have obtained. if we were to give full weight to the statements which are sometimes made, we should perforce believe that primitive men had nothing to do but to ponder about the sun and the clouds, and to worry themselves over the disappearance of daylight. but there is nothing in the scientific interpretation of myths which obliges us to go any such length. i do not suppose that any ancient aryan, possessed of good digestive powers and endowed with sound common-sense, ever lay awake half the night wondering whether the sun would come back again. [ ] the child and the savage believe of necessity that the future will resemble the past, and it is only philosophy which raises doubts on the subject. [ ] the predominance of solar legends in most systems of mythology is not due to the lack of "that titanic assurance with which we say, the sun must rise"; [ ] nor again to the fact that the phenomena of day and night are the most striking phenomena in nature. eclipses and earthquakes and floods are phenomena of the most terrible and astounding kind, and they have all generated myths; yet their contributions to folk-lore are scanty compared with those furnished by the strife between the day-god and his enemies. the sun-myths have been so prolific because the dramatic types to which they have given rise are of surpassing human interest. the dragon who swallows the sun is no doubt a fearful personage; but the hero who toils for others, who slays hydra-headed monsters, and dries the tears of fair-haired damsels, and achieves success in spite of incredible obstacles, is a being with whom we can all sympathize, and of whom we never weary of hearing. with many of these legends which present the myth of light and darkness in its most attractive form, the reader is already acquainted, and it is needless to retail stories which have been told over and over again in books which every one is presumed to have read. i will content myself with a weird irish legend, narrated by mr. patrick kennedy, [ ] in which we here and there catch glimpses of the primitive mythical symbols, as fragments of gold are seen gleaming through the crystal of quartz. long before the danes ever came to ireland, there died at muskerry a sculloge, or country farmer, who by dint of hard work and close economy had amassed enormous wealth. his only son did not resemble him. when the young sculloge looked about the house, the day after his father's death, and saw the big chests full of gold and silver, and the cupboards shining with piles of sovereigns, and the old stockings stuffed with large and small coin, he said to himself, "bedad, how shall i ever be able to spend the likes o' that!" and so he drank, and gambled, and wasted his time in hunting and horse-racing, until after a while he found the chests empty and the cupboards poverty-stricken, and the stockings lean and penniless. then he mortgaged his farm-house and gambled away all the money he got for it, and then he bethought him that a few hundred pounds might be raised on his mill. but when he went to look at it, he found "the dam broken, and scarcely a thimbleful of water in the mill-race, and the wheel rotten, and the thatch of the house all gone, and the upper millstone lying flat on the lower one, and a coat of dust and mould over everything." so he made up his mind to borrow a horse and take one more hunt to-morrow and then reform his habits. as he was returning late in the evening from this farewell hunt, passing through a lonely glen he came upon an old man playing backgammon, betting on his left hand against his right, and crying and cursing because the right would win. "come and bet with me," said he to sculloge. "faith, i have but a sixpence in the world," was the reply; "but, if you like, i'll wager that on the right." "done," said the old man, who was a druid; "if you win i'll give you a hundred guineas." so the game was played, and the old man, whose right hand was always the winner, paid over the guineas and told sculloge to go to the devil with them. instead of following this bit of advice, however, the young farmer went home and began to pay his debts, and next week he went to the glen and won another game, and made the druid rebuild his mill. so sculloge became prosperous again, and by and by he tried his luck a third time, and won a game played for a beautiful wife. the druid sent her to his house the next morning before he was out of bed, and his servants came knocking at the door and crying, "wake up! wake up! master sculloge, there's a young lady here to see you." "bedad, it's the vanithee [ ] herself," said sculloge; and getting up in a hurry, he spent three quarters of an hour in dressing himself. at last he went down stairs, and there on the sofa was the prettiest lady ever seen in ireland! naturally, sculloge's heart beat fast and his voice trembled, as he begged the lady's pardon for this druidic style of wooing, and besought her not to feel obliged to stay with him unless she really liked him. but the young lady, who was a king's daughter from a far country, was wondrously charmed with the handsome farmer, and so well did they get along that the priest was sent for without further delay, and they were married before sundown. sabina was the vanithee's name; and she warned her husband to have no more dealings with lassa buaicht, the old man of the glen. so for a while all went happily, and the druidic bride was as good as she was beautiful but by and by sculloge began to think he was not earning money fast enough. he could not bear to see his wife's white hands soiled with work, and thought it would be a fine thing if he could only afford to keep a few more servants, and drive about with sabina in an elegant carriage, and see her clothed in silk and adorned with jewels. "i will play one more game and set the stakes high," said sculloge to himself one evening, as he sat pondering over these things; and so, without consulting sabina, he stole away to the glen, and played a game for ten thousand guineas. but the evil druid was now ready to pounce on his prey, and he did not play as of old. sculloge broke into a cold sweat with agony and terror as he saw the left hand win! then the face of lassa buaicht grew dark and stern, and he laid on sculloge the curse which is laid upon the solar hero in misfortune, that he should never sleep twice under the same roof, or ascend the couch of the dawn-nymph, his wife, until he should have procured and brought to him the sword of light. when sculloge reached home, more dead than alive, he saw that his wife knew all. bitterly they wept together, but she told him that with courage all might be set right. she gave him a druidic horse, which bore him swiftly over land and sea, like the enchanted steed of the arabian nights, until he reached the castle of his wife's father who, as sculloge now learned, was a good druid, the brother of the evil lassa buaicht. this good druid told him that the sword of light was kept by a third brother, the powerful magician, fiach o'duda, who dwelt in an enchanted castle, which many brave heroes had tried to enter, but the dark sorcerer had slain them all. three high walls surrounded the castle, and many had scaled the first of these, but none had ever returned alive. but sculloge was not to be daunted, and, taking from his father-in-law a black steed, he set out for the fortress of fiach o'duda. over the first high wall nimbly leaped the magic horse, and sculloge called aloud on the druid to come out and surrender his sword. then came out a tall, dark man, with coal-black eyes and hair and melancholy visage, and made a furious sweep at sculloge with the flaming blade. but the druidic beast sprang back over the wall in the twinkling of an eye and rescued his rider, leaving, however, his tail behind in the court-yard. then sculloge returned in triumph to his father-in-law's palace, and the night was spent in feasting and revelry. next day sculloge rode out on a white horse, and when he got to fiach's castle, he saw the first wall lying in rubbish. he leaped the second, and the same scene occurred as the day before, save that the horse escaped unharmed. the third day sculloge went out on foot, with a harp like that of orpheus in his hand, and as he swept its strings the grass bent to listen and the trees bowed their heads. the castle walls all lay in ruins, and sculloge made his way unhindered to the upper room, where fiach lay in druidic slumber, lulled by the harp. he seized the sword of light, which was hung by the chimney sheathed in a dark scabbard, and making the best of his way back to the good king's palace, mounted his wife's steed, and scoured over land and sea until he found himself in the gloomy glen where lassa buaicht was still crying and cursing and betting on his left hand against his right. "here, treacherous fiend, take your sword of light!" shouted sculloge in tones of thunder; and as he drew it from its sheath the whole valley was lighted up as with the morning sun, and next moment the head of the wretched druid was lying at his feet, and his sweet wife, who had come to meet him, was laughing and crying in his arms. november, . v. myths of the barbaric world. the theory of mythology set forth in the four preceding papers, and illustrated by the examination of numerous myths relating to the lightning, the storm-wind, the clouds, and the sunlight, was originally framed with reference solely to the mythic and legendary lore of the aryan world. the phonetic identity of the names of many western gods and heroes with the names of those vedic divinities which are obviously the personifications of natural phenomena, suggested the theory which philosophical considerations had already foreshadowed in the works of hume and comte, and which the exhaustive analysis of greek, hindu, keltic, and teutonic legends has amply confirmed. let us now, before proceeding to the consideration of barbaric folk-lore, briefly recapitulate the results obtained by modern scholarship working strictly within the limits of the aryan domain. in the first place, it has been proved once for all that the languages spoken by the hindus, persians, greeks, romans, kelts, slaves, and teutons are all descended from a single ancestral language, the old aryan, in the same sense that french, italian, and spanish are descended from the latin. and from this undisputed fact it is an inevitable inference that these various races contain, along with other elements, a race-element in common, due to their aryan pedigree. that the indo-european races are wholly aryan is very improbable, for in every case the countries overrun by them were occupied by inferior races, whose blood must have mingled in varying degrees with that of their conquerors; but that every indo-european people is in great part descended from a common aryan stock is not open to question. in the second place, along with a common fund of moral and religious ideas and of legal and ceremonial observances, we find these kindred peoples possessed of a common fund of myths, superstitions, proverbs, popular poetry, and household legends. the hindu mother amuses her child with fairy-tales which often correspond, even in minor incidents, with stories in scottish or scandinavian nurseries; and she tells them in words which are phonetically akin to words in swedish and gaelic. no doubt many of these stories might have been devised in a dozen different places independently of each other; and no doubt many of them have been transmitted laterally from one people to another; but a careful examination shows that such cannot have been the case with the great majority of legends and beliefs. the agreement between two such stories, for instance, as those of faithful john and rama and luxman is so close as to make it incredible that they should have been independently fabricated, while the points of difference are so important as to make it extremely improbable that the one was ever copied from the other. besides which, the essential identity of such myths as those of sigurd and theseus, or of helena and sarama, carries us back historically to a time when the scattered indo-european tribes had not yet begun to hold commercial and intellectual intercourse with each other, and consequently could not have interchanged their epic materials or their household stories. we are therefore driven to the conclusion--which, startling as it may seem, is after all the most natural and plausible one that can be stated--that the aryan nations, which have inherited from a common ancestral stock their languages and their customs, have inherited also from the same common original their fireside legends. they have preserved cinderella and punchkin just as they have preserved the words for father and mother, ten and twenty; and the former case, though more imposing to the imagination, is scientifically no less intelligible than the latter. thirdly, it has been shown that these venerable tales may be grouped in a few pretty well defined classes; and that the archetypal myth of each class--the primitive story in conformity to which countless subsequent tales have been generated--was originally a mere description of physical phenomena, couched in the poetic diction of an age when everything was personified, because all natural phenomena were supposed to be due to the direct workings of a volition like that of which men were conscious within themselves. thus we are led to the striking conclusion that mythology has had a common root, both with science and with religious philosophy. the myth of indra conquering vritra was one of the theorems of primitive aryan science; it was a provisional explanation of the thunder-storm, satisfactory enough until extended observation and reflection supplied a better one. it also contained the germs of a theology; for the life-giving solar light furnished an important part of the primeval conception of deity. and finally, it became the fruitful parent of countless myths, whether embodied in the stately epics of homer and the bards of the nibelungenlied, or in the humbler legends of st. george and william tell and the ubiquitous boots. such is the theory which was suggested half a century ago by the researches of jacob grimm, and which, so far as concerns the mythology of the aryan race, is now victorious along the whole line. it remains for us to test the universality of the general principles upon which it is founded, by a brief analysis of sundry legends and superstitions of the barbaric world. since the fetichistic habit of explaining the outward phenomena of nature after the analogy of the inward phenomena of conscious intelligence is not a habit peculiar to our aryan ancestors, but is, as psychology shows, the inevitable result of the conditions under which uncivilized thinking proceeds, we may expect to find the barbaric mind personifying the powers of nature and making myths about their operations the whole world over. and we need not be surprised if we find in the resulting mythologic structures a strong resemblance to the familiar creations of the aryan intelligence. in point of fact, we shall often be called upon to note such resemblance; and it accordingly behooves us at the outset to inquire how far a similarity between mythical tales shall be taken as evidence of a common traditional origin, and how far it may be interpreted as due merely to the similar workings of the untrained intelligence in all ages and countries. analogies drawn from the comparison of languages will here be of service to us, if used discreetly; otherwise they are likely to bewilder far more than to enlighten us. a theorem which max muller has laid down for our guidance in this kind of investigation furnishes us with an excellent example of the tricks which a superficial analogy may play even with the trained scholar, when temporarily off his guard. actuated by a praiseworthy desire to raise the study of myths to something like the high level of scientific accuracy already attained by the study of words, max muller endeavours to introduce one of the most useful canons of philology into a department of inquiry where its introduction could only work the most hopeless confusion. one of the earliest lessons to be learned by the scientific student of linguistics is the uselessness of comparing together directly the words contained in derivative languages. for example, you might set the english twelve side by side with the latin duodecim, and then stare at the two words to all eternity without any hope of reaching a conclusion, good or bad, about either of them: least of all would you suspect that they are descended from the same radical. but if you take each word by itself and trace it back to its primitive shape, explaining every change of every letter as you go, you will at last reach the old aryan dvadakan, which is the parent of both these strangely metamorphosed words. [ ] nor will it do, on the other hand, to trust to verbal similarity without a historical inquiry into the origin of such similarity. even in the same language two words of quite different origin may get their corners rubbed off till they look as like one another as two pebbles. the french words souris, a "mouse," and souris, a "smile," are spelled exactly alike; but the one comes from latin sorex and the other from latin subridere. now max muller tells us that this principle, which is indispensable in the study of words, is equally indispensable in the study of myths. [ ] that is, you must not rashly pronounce the norse story of the heartless giant identical with the hindu story of punchkin, although the two correspond in every essential incident. in both legends a magician turns several members of the same family into stone; the youngest member of the family comes to the rescue, and on the way saves the lives of sundry grateful beasts; arrived at the magician's castle, he finds a captive princess ready to accept his love and to play the part of delilah to the enchanter. in both stories the enchanter's life depends on the integrity of something which is elaborately hidden in a far-distant island, but which the fortunate youth, instructed by the artful princess and assisted by his menagerie of grateful beasts, succeeds in obtaining. in both stories the youth uses his advantage to free all his friends from their enchantment, and then proceeds to destroy the villain who wrought all this wickedness. yet, in spite of this agreement, max muller, if i understand him aright, would not have us infer the identity of the two stories until we have taken each one separately and ascertained its primitive mythical significance. otherwise, for aught we can tell, the resemblance may be purely accidental, like that of the french words for "mouse" and "smile." a little reflection, however, will relieve us from this perplexity, and assure us that the alleged analogy between the comparison of words and the comparison of stories is utterly superficial. the transformations of words--which are often astounding enough--depend upon a few well-established physiological principles of utterance; and since philology has learned to rely upon these principles, it has become nearly as sure in its methods and results as one of the so-called "exact sciences." folly enough is doubtless committed within its precincts by writers who venture there without the laborious preparation which this science, more than almost any other, demands. but the proceedings of the trained philologist are no more arbitrary than those of the trained astronomer. and though the former may seem to be straining at a gnat and swallowing a camel when he coolly tells you that violin and fiddle are the same word, while english care and latin cura have nothing to do with each other, he is nevertheless no more indulging in guess-work than the astronomer who confesses his ignorance as to the habitability of venus while asserting his knowledge of the existence of hydrogen in the atmosphere of sirius. to cite one example out of a hundred, every philologist knows that s may become r, and that the broad a-sound may dwindle into the closer o-sound; but when you adduce some plausible etymology based on the assumption that r has changed into s, or o into a, apart from the demonstrable influence of some adjacent letter, the philologist will shake his head. now in the study of stories there are no such simple rules all cut and dried for us to go by. there is no uniform psychological principle which determines that the three-headed snake in one story shall become a three-headed man in the next. there is no grimm's law in mythology which decides that a hindu magician shall always correspond to a norwegian troll or a keltic druid. the laws of association of ideas are not so simple in application as the laws of utterance. in short, the study of myths, though it can be made sufficiently scientific in its methods and results, does not constitute a science by itself, like philology. it stands on a footing similar to that occupied by physical geography, or what the germans call "earth-knowledge." no one denies that all the changes going on over the earth's surface conform to physical laws; but then no one pretends that there is any single proximate principle which governs all the phenomena of rain-fall, of soil-crumbling, of magnetic variation, and of the distribution of plants and animals. all these things are explained by principles obtained from the various sciences of physics, chemistry, geology, and physiology. and in just the same way the development and distribution of stories is explained by the help of divers resources contributed by philology, psychology, and history. there is therefore no real analogy between the cases cited by max muller. two unrelated words may be ground into exactly the same shape, just as a pebble from the north sea may be undistinguishable from another pebble on the beach of the adriatic; but two stories like those of punchkin and the heartless giant are no more likely to arise independently of each other than two coral reefs on opposite sides of the globe are likely to develop into exactly similar islands. shall we then say boldly, that close similarity between legends is proof of kinship, and go our way without further misgivings? unfortunately we cannot dispose of the matter in quite so summary a fashion; for it remains to decide what kind and degree of similarity shall be considered satisfactory evidence of kinship. and it is just here that doctors may disagree. here is the point at which our "science" betrays its weakness as compared with the sister study of philology. before we can decide with confidence in any case, a great mass of evidence must be brought into court. so long as we remained on aryan ground, all went smoothly enough, because all the external evidence was in our favour. we knew at the outset, that the aryans inherit a common language and a common civilization, and therefore we found no difficulty in accepting the conclusion that they have inherited, among other things, a common stock of legends. in the barbaric world it is quite otherwise. philology does not pronounce in favour of a common origin for all barbaric culture, such as it is. the notion of a single primitive language, standing in the same relation to all existing dialects as the relation of old aryan to latin and english, or that of old semitic to hebrew and arabic, was a notion suited only to the infancy of linguistic science. as the case now stands, it is certain that all the languages actually existing cannot be referred to a common ancestor, and it is altogether probable that there never was any such common ancestor. i am not now referring to the question of the unity of the human race. that question lies entirely outside the sphere of philology. the science of language has nothing to do with skulls or complexions, and no comparison of words can tell us whether the black men are brethren of the white men, or whether yellow and red men have a common pedigree: these questions belong to comparative physiology. but the science of language can and does tell us that a certain amount of civilization is requisite for the production of a language sufficiently durable and wide-spread to give birth to numerous mutually resembling offspring barbaric languages are neither widespread nor durable. among savages each little group of families has its own dialect, and coins its own expressions at pleasure; and in the course of two or three generations a dialect gets so strangely altered as virtually to lose its identity. even numerals and personal pronouns, which the aryan has preserved for fifty centuries, get lost every few years in polynesia. since the time of captain cook the tahitian language has thrown away five out of its ten simple numerals, and replaced them by brand-new ones; and on the amazon you may acquire a fluent command of some indian dialect, and then, coming back after twenty years, find yourself worse off than rip van winkle, and your learning all antiquated and useless. how absurd, therefore, to suppose that primeval savages originated a language which has held its own like the old aryan and become the prolific mother of the three or four thousand dialects now in existence! before a durable language can arise, there must be an aggregation of numerous tribes into a people, so that there may be need of communication on a large scale, and so that tradition may be strengthened. wherever mankind have associated in nations, permanent languages have arisen, and their derivative dialects bear the conspicuous marks of kinship; but where mankind have remained in their primitive savage isolation, their languages have remained sporadic and transitory, incapable of organic development, and showing no traces of a kinship which never existed. the bearing of these considerations upon the origin and diffusion of barbaric myths is obvious. the development of a common stock of legends is, of course, impossible, save where there is a common language; and thus philology pronounces against the kinship of barbaric myths with each other and with similar myths of the aryan and semitic worlds. similar stories told in greece and norway are likely to have a common pedigree, because the persons who have preserved them in recollection speak a common language and have inherited the same civilization. but similar stories told in labrador and south africa are not likely to be genealogically related, because it is altogether probable that the esquimaux and the zulu had acquired their present race characteristics before either of them possessed a language or a culture sufficient for the production of myths. according to the nature and extent of the similarity, it must be decided whether such stories have been carried about from one part of the world to another, or have been independently originated in many different places. here the methods of philology suggest a rule which will often be found useful. in comparing, the vocabularies of different languages, those words which directly imitate natural sounds--such as whiz, crash, crackle--are not admitted as evidence of kinship between the languages in which they occur. resemblances between such words are obviously no proof of a common ancestry; and they are often met with in languages which have demonstrably had no connection with each other. so in mythology, where we find two stories of which the primitive character is perfectly transparent, we need have no difficulty in supposing them to have originated independently. the myth of jack and his beanstalk is found all over the world; but the idea of a country above the sky, to which persons might gain access by climbing, is one which could hardly fail to occur to every barbarian. among the american tribes, as well as among the aryans, the rainbow and the milky-way have contributed the idea of a bridge of the dead, over which souls must pass on the way to the other world. in south africa, as well as in germany, the habits of the fox and of his brother the jackal have given rise to fables in which brute force is overcome by cunning. in many parts of the world we find curiously similar stories devised to account for the stumpy tails of the bear and hyaena, the hairless tail of the rat, and the blindness of the mole. and in all countries may be found the beliefs that men may be changed into beasts, or plants, or stones; that the sun is in some way tethered or constrained to follow a certain course; that the storm-cloud is a ravenous dragon; and that there are talismans which will reveal hidden treasures. all these conceptions are so obvious to the uncivilized intelligence, that stories founded upon them need not be supposed to have a common origin, unless there turns out to be a striking similarity among their minor details. on the other hand, the numerous myths of an all-destroying deluge have doubtless arisen partly from reminiscences of actually occurring local inundations, and partly from the fact that the scriptural account of a deluge has been carried all over the world by catholic and protestant missionaries. [ ] by way of illustrating these principles, let us now cite a few of the american myths so carefully collected by dr. brinton in his admirable treatise. we shall not find in the mythology of the new world the wealth of wit and imagination which has so long delighted us in the stories of herakles, perseus, hermes, sigurd, and indra. the mythic lore of the american indians is comparatively scanty and prosaic, as befits the product of a lower grade of culture and a more meagre intellect. not only are the personages less characteristically pourtrayed, but there is a continual tendency to extravagance, the sure index of an inferior imagination. nevertheless, after making due allowances for differences in the artistic method of treatment, there is between the mythologies of the old and the new worlds a fundamental resemblance. we come upon solar myths and myths of the storm curiously blended with culture-myths, as in the cases of hermes, prometheus, and kadmos. the american parallels to these are to be found in the stories of michabo, viracocha, ioskeha, and quetzalcoatl. "as elsewhere the world over, so in america, many tribes had to tell of.... an august character, who taught them what they knew,--the tillage of the soil, the properties of plants, the art of picture-writing, the secrets of magic; who founded their institutions and established their religions; who governed them long with glory abroad and peace at home; and finally did not die, but, like frederic barbarossa, charlemagne, king arthur, and all great heroes, vanished mysteriously, and still lives somewhere, ready at the right moment to return to his beloved people and lead them to victory and happiness." [ ] everyone is familiar with the numerous legends of white-skinned, full-bearded heroes, like the mild quetzalcoatl, who in times long previous to columbus came from the far east to impart the rudiments of civilization and religion to the red men. by those who first heard these stories they were supposed, with naive euhemerism, to refer to pre-columbian visits of europeans to this continent, like that of the northmen in the tenth century. but a scientific study of the subject has dissipated such notions. these legends are far too numerous, they are too similar to each other, they are too manifestly symbolical, to admit of any such interpretation. by comparing them carefully with each other, and with correlative myths of the old world, their true character soon becomes apparent. one of the most widely famous of these culture-heroes was manabozho or michabo, the great hare. with entire unanimity, says dr. brinton, the various branches of the algonquin race, "the powhatans of virginia, the lenni lenape of the delaware, the warlike hordes of new england, the ottawas of the far north, and the western tribes, perhaps without exception, spoke of this chimerical beast,' as one of the old missionaries calls it, as their common ancestor. the totem, or clan, which bore his name was looked up to with peculiar respect." not only was michabo the ruler and guardian of these numerous tribes,--he was the founder of their religious rites, the inventor of picture-writing, the ruler of the weather, the creator and preserver of earth and heaven. "from a grain of sand brought from the bottom of the primeval ocean he fashioned the habitable land, and set it floating on the waters till it grew to such a size that a strong young wolf, running constantly, died of old age ere he reached its limits." he was also, like nimrod, a mighty hunter. "one of his footsteps measured eight leagues, the great lakes were the beaver-dams he built, and when the cataracts impeded his progress he tore them away with his hands." "sometimes he was said to dwell in the skies with his brother, the snow, or, like many great spirits, to have built his wigwam in the far north on some floe of ice in the arctic ocean..... but in the oldest accounts of the missionaries he was alleged to reside toward the east; and in the holy formulae of the meda craft, when the winds are invoked to the medicine lodge, the east is summoned in his name, the door opens in that direction, and there, at the edge of the earth where the sun rises, on the shore of the infinite ocean that surrounds the land, he has his house, and sends the luminaries forth on their daily journeys." [ ] from such accounts as this we see that michabo was no more a wise instructor and legislator than minos or kadmos. like these heroes, he is a personification of the solar life-giving power, which daily comes forth from its home in the east, making the earth to rejoice. the etymology of his name confirms the otherwise clear indications of the legend itself. it is compounded of michi, "great," and wabos, which means alike "hare" and "white." "dialectic forms in algonquin for white are wabi, wape, wampi, etc.; for morning, wapan, wapanch, opah; for east, wapa, wanbun, etc.; for day, wompan, oppan; for light, oppung." so that michabo is the great white one, the god of the dawn and the east. and the etymological confusion, by virtue of which he acquired his soubriquet of the great hare, affords a curious parallel to what has often happened in aryan and semitic mythology, as we saw when discussing the subject of werewolves. keeping in mind this solar character of michabo, let us note how full of meaning are the myths concerning him. in the first cycle of these legends, "he is grandson of the moon, his father is the west wind, and his mother, a maiden, dies in giving him birth at the moment of conception. for the moon is the goddess of night; the dawn is her daughter, who brings forth the morning, and perishes herself in the act; and the west, the spirit of darkness, as the east is of light, precedes, and as it were begets the latter, as the evening does the morning. straightway, however, continues the legend, the son sought the unnatural father to revenge the death of his mother, and then commenced a long and desperate struggle. it began on the mountains. the west was forced to give ground. manabozho drove him across rivers and over mountains and lakes, and at last he came to the brink of this world. 'hold,' cried he, 'my son, you know my power, and that it is impossible to kill me.' what is this but the diurnal combat of light and darkness, carried on from what time 'the jocund morn stands tiptoe on the misty mountain-tops,' across the wide world to the sunset, the struggle that knows no end, for both the opponents are immortal?" [ ] even the veda nowhere affords a more transparent narrative than this. the iroquois tradition is very similar. in it appear twin brothers, [ ] born of a virgin mother, daughter of the moon, who died in giving them life. their names, ioskeha and tawiskara, signify in the oneida dialect the white one and the dark one. under the influence of christian ideas the contest between the brothers has been made to assume a moral character, like the strife between ormuzd and ahriman. but no such intention appears in the original myth, and dr. brinton has shown that none of the american tribes had any conception of a devil. when the quarrel came to blows, the dark brother was signally discomfited; and the victorious ioskeha, returning to his grandmother, "established his lodge in the far east, on the horders of the great ocean, whence the sun comes. in time he became the father of mankind, and special guardian of the iroquois." he caused the earth to bring forth, he stocked the woods with game, and taught his children the use of fire. "he it was who watched and watered their crops; 'and, indeed, without his aid,' says the old missionary, quite out of patience with their puerilities, 'they think they could not boil a pot.'" there was more in it than poor brebouf thought, as we are forcibly reminded by recent discoveries in physical science. even civilized men would find it difficult to boil a pot without the aid of solar energy. call him what we will,--ioskeha, michabo, or phoibos,--the beneficent sun is the master and sustainer of us all; and if we were to relapse into heathenism, like erckmann-chatrian's innkeeper, we could not do better than to select him as our chief object of worship. the same principles by which these simple cases are explained furnish also the key to the more complicated mythology of mexico and peru. like the deities just discussed, viracocha, the supreme god of the quichuas, rises from the bosom of lake titicaca and journeys westward, slaying with his lightnings the creatures who oppose him, until he finally disappears in the western ocean. like aphrodite, he bears in his name the evidence of his origin, viracocha signifying "foam of the sea"; and hence the "white one" (l'aube), the god of light rising white on the horizon, like the foam on the surface of the waves. the aymaras spoke of their original ancestors as white; and to this day, as dr. brinton informs us, the peruvians call a white man viracocha. the myth of quetzalcoatl is of precisely the same character. all these solar heroes present in most of their qualities and achievements a striking likeness to those of the old world. they combine the attributes of apollo, herakles, and hermes. like herakles, they journey from east to west, smiting the powers of darkness, storm, and winter with the thunderbolts of zeus or the unerring arrows of phoibos, and sinking in a blaze of glory on the western verge of the world, where the waves meet the firmament. or like hermes, in a second cycle of legends, they rise with the soft breezes of a summer morning, driving before them the bright celestial cattle whose udders are heavy with refreshing rain, fanning the flames which devour the forests, blustering at the doors of wigwams, and escaping with weird laughter through vents and crevices. the white skins and flowing beards of these american heroes may be aptly compared to the fair faces and long golden locks of their hellenic compeers. yellow hair was in all probability as rare in greece as a full beard in peru or mexico; but in each case the description suits the solar character of the hero. one important class of incidents, however is apparently quite absent from the american legends. we frequently see the dawn described as a virgin mother who dies in giving birth to the day; but nowhere do we remember seeing her pictured as a lovely or valiant or crafty maiden, ardently wooed, but speedily forsaken by her solar lover. perhaps in no respect is the superior richness and beauty of the aryan myths more manifest than in this. brynhild, urvasi, medeia, ariadne, oinone, and countless other kindred heroines, with their brilliant legends, could not be spared from the mythology of our ancestors without, leaving it meagre indeed. these were the materials which kalidasa, the attic dramatists, and the bards of the nibelungen found ready, awaiting their artistic treatment. but the mythology of the new world, with all its pretty and agreeable naivete, affords hardly enough, either of variety in situation or of complexity in motive, for a grand epic or a genuine tragedy. but little reflection is needed to assure us that the imagination of the barbarian, who either carries away his wife by brute force or buys her from her relatives as he would buy a cow, could never have originated legends in which maidens are lovingly solicited, or in which their favour is won by the performance of deeds of valour. these stories owe their existence to the romantic turn of mind which has always characterized the aryan, whose civilization, even in the times before the dispersion of his race, was sufficiently advanced to allow of his entertaining such comparatively exalted conceptions of the relations between men and women. the absence of these myths from barbaric folk-lore is, therefore, just what might be expected; but it is a fact which militates against any possible hypothesis of the common origin of aryan and barbaric mythology. if there were any genetic relationship between sigurd and ioskeha, between herakles and michabo, it would be hard to tell why brynhild and iole should have disappeared entirely from one whole group of legends, while retained, in some form or other, throughout the whole of the other group. on the other hand, the resemblances above noticed between aryan and american mythology fall very far short of the resemblances between the stories told in different parts of the aryan domain. no barbaric legend, of genuine barbaric growth, has yet been cited which resembles any aryan legend as the story of punchkin resembles the story of the heartless giant. the myths of michabo and viracocha are direct copies, so to speak, of natural phenomena, just as imitative words are direct copies of natural sounds. neither the redskin nor the indo-european had any choice as to the main features of the career of his solar divinity. he must be born of the night,--or of the dawn,--must travel westward, must slay harassing demons. eliminating these points of likeness, the resemblance between the aryan and barbaric legends is at once at an end. such an identity in point of details as that between the wooden horse which enters ilion, and the horse which bears sigurd into the place where brynhild is imprisoned, and the druidic steed which leaps with sculloge over the walls of fiach's enchanted castle, is, i believe, nowhere to be found after we leave indo-european territory. our conclusion, therefore, must be, that while the legends of the aryan and the non-aryan worlds contain common mythical elements, the legends themselves are not of common origin. the fact that certain mythical ideas are possessed alike by different races, shows that in each case a similar human intelligence has been at work explaining similar phenomena; but in order to prove a family relationship between the culture of these different races, we need something more than this. we need to prove not only a community of mythical ideas, but also a community between the stories based upon these ideas. we must show not only that michabo is like herakles in those striking features which the contemplation of solar phenomena would necessarily suggest to the imagination of the primitive myth-maker, but also that the two characters are similarly conceived, and that the two careers agree in seemingly arbitrary points of detail, as is the case in the stories of punchkin and the heartless giant. the mere fact that solar heroes, all over the world, travel in a certain path and slay imps of darkness is of great value as throwing light upon primeval habits of thought, but it is of no value as evidence for or against an alleged community of civilization between different races. the same is true of the sacredness universally attached to certain numbers. dr. blinton's opinion that the sanctity of the number four in nearly all systems of mythology is due to a primitive worship of the cardinal points, becomes very probable when we recollect that the similar pre-eminence of seven is almost demonstrably connected with the adoration of the sun, moon, and five visible planets, which has left its record in the structure and nomenclature of the aryan and semitic week. [ ] in view of these considerations, the comparison of barbaric myths with each other and with the legends of the aryan world becomes doubly interesting, as illustrating the similarity in the workings of the untrained intelligence the world over. in our first paper we saw how the moon-spots have been variously explained by indo-europeans, as a man with a thorn-bush or as two children bearing a bucket of water on a pole. in ceylon it is said that as sakyamuni was one day wandering half starved in the forest, a pious hare met him, and offered itself to him to be slain and cooked for dinner; whereupon the holy buddha set it on high in the moon, that future generations of men might see it and marvel at its piety. in the samoan islands these dark patches are supposed to be portions of a woman's figure. a certain woman was once hammering something with a mallet, when the moon arose, looking so much like a bread-fruit that the woman asked it to come down and let her child eat off a piece of it; but the moon, enraged at the insult, gobbled up woman, mallet, and child, and there, in the moon's belly, you may still behold them. according to the hottentots, the moon once sent the hare to inform men that as she died away and rose again, so should men die and again come to life. but the stupid hare forgot the purport of the message, and, coming down to the earth, proclaimed it far and wide that though the moon was invariably resuscitated whenever she died, mankind, on the other hand, should die and go to the devil. when the silly brute returned to the lunar country and told what he had done, the moon was so angry that she took up an axe and aimed a blow at his head to split it. but the axe missed and only cut his lip open; and that was the origin of the "hare-lip." maddened by the pain and the insult, the hare flew at the moon and almost scratched her eyes out; and to this day she bears on her face the marks of the hare's claws. [ ] again, every reader of the classics knows how selene cast endymion into a profound slumber because he refused her love, and how at sundown she used to come and stand above him on the latmian hill, and watch him as he lay asleep on the marble steps of a temple half hidden among drooping elm-trees, over which clambered vines heavy with dark blue grapes. this represents the rising moon looking down on the setting sun; in labrador a similar phenomenon has suggested a somewhat different story. among the esquimaux the sun is a maiden and the moon is her brother, who is overcome by a wicked passion for her. once, as this girl was at a dancing-party in a friend's hut, some one came up and took hold of her by the shoulders and shook her, which is (according to the legend) the esquimaux manner of declaring one's love. she could not tell who it was in the dark, and so she dipped her hand in some soot and smeared one of his cheeks with it. when a light was struck in the hut, she saw, to her dismay, that it was her brother, and, without waiting to learn any more, she took to her heels. he started in hot pursuit, and so they ran till they got to the end of the world,--the jumping-off place,--when they both jumped into the sky. there the moon still chases his sister, the sun; and every now and then he turns his sooty cheek toward the earth, when he becomes so dark that you cannot see him. [ ] another story, which i cite from mr. tylor, shows that malays, as well as indo-europeans, have conceived of the clouds as swan-maidens. in the island of celebes it is said that "seven heavenly nymphs came down from the sky to bathe, and they were seen by kasimbaha, who thought first that they were white doves, but in the bath he saw that they were women. then he stole one of the thin robes that gave the nymphs their power of flying, and so he caught utahagi, the one whose robe he had stolen, and took her for his wife, and she bore him a son. now she was called utahagi from a single white hair she had, which was endowed with magic power, and this hair her husband pulled out. as soon as he had done it, there arose a great storm, and utahagi went up to heaven. the child cried for its mother, and kasimbaha was in great grief, and cast about how he should follow utahagi up into the sky." here we pass to the myth of jack and the beanstalk. "a rat gnawed the thorns off the rattans, and kasimbaha clambered up by them with his son upon his back, till he came to heaven. there a little bird showed him the house of utahagi, and after various adventures he took up his abode among the gods." [ ] in siberia we find a legend of swan-maidens, which also reminds us of the story of the heartless giant. a certain samojed once went out to catch foxes, and found seven maidens swimming in a lake surrounded by gloomy pine-trees, while their feather dresses lay on the shore. he crept up and stole one of these dresses, and by and by the swan-maiden came to him shivering with cold and promising to become his wife if he would only give her back her garment of feathers. the ungallant fellow, however, did not care for a wife, but a little revenge was not unsuited to his way of thinking. there were seven robbers who used to prowl about the neighbourhood, and who, when they got home, finding their hearts in the way, used to hang them up on some pegs in the tent. one of these robbers had killed the samojed's mother; and so he promised to return the swan-maiden's dress after she should have procured for him these seven hearts. so she stole the hearts, and the samojed smashed six of them, and then woke up the seventh robber, and told him to restore his mother to life, on pain of instant death, then the robber produced a purse containing the old woman's soul, and going to the graveyard shook it over her bones, and she revived at once. then the samojed smashed the seventh heart, and the robber died; and so the swan-maiden got back her plumage and flew away rejoicing. [ ] swan-maidens are also, according to mr. baring-gould, found among the minussinian tartars. but there they appear as foul demons, like the greek harpies, who delight in drinking the blood of men slain in battle. there are forty of them, who darken the whole firmament in their flight; but sometimes they all coalesce into one great black storm-fiend, who rages for blood, like a werewolf. in south africa we find the werewolf himself. [ ] a certain hottentot was once travelling with a bushwoman and her child, when they perceived at a distance a troop of wild horses. the man, being hungry, asked the woman to turn herself into a lioness and catch one of these horses, that they might eat of it; whereupon the woman set down her child, and taking off a sort of petticoat made of human skin became instantly transformed into a lioness, which rushed across the plain, struck down a wild horse and lapped its blood. the man climbed a tree in terror, and conjured his companion to resume her natural shape. then the lioness came back, and putting on the skirt made of human skin reappeared as a woman, and took up her child, and the two friends resumed their journey after making a meal of the horse's flesh. [ ] the werewolf also appears in north america, duly furnished with his wolf-skin sack; but neither in america nor in africa is he the genuine european werewolf, inspired by a diabolic frenzy, and ravening for human flesh. the barbaric myths testify to the belief that men can be changed into beasts or have in some cases descended from beast ancestors, but the application of this belief to the explanation of abnormal cannibal cravings seems to have been confined to europe. the werewolf of the middle ages was not merely a transformed man,--he was an insane cannibal, whose monstrous appetite, due to the machinations of the devil, showed its power over his physical organism by changing the shape of it. the barbaric werewolf is the product of a lower and simpler kind of thinking. there is no diabolism about him; for barbaric races, while believing in the existence of hurtful and malicious fiends, have not a sufficiently vivid sense of moral abnormity to form the conception of diabolism. and the cannibal craving, which to the mediaeval european was a phenomenon so strange as to demand a mythological explanation, would not impress the barbarian as either very exceptional or very blameworthy. in the folk-lore of the zulus, one of the most quick-witted and intelligent of african races, the cannibal possesses many features in common with the scandinavian troll, who also has a liking for human flesh. as we saw in the preceding paper, the troll has very likely derived some of his characteristics from reminiscences of the barbarous races who preceded the aryans in central and northern europe. in like manner the long-haired cannibal of zulu nursery literature, who is always represented as belonging to a distinct race, has been supposed to be explained by the existence of inferior races conquered and displaced by the zulus. nevertheless, as dr. callaway observes, neither the long-haired mountain cannibals of western africa, nor the fulahs, nor the tribes of eghedal described by barth, "can be considered as answering to the description of long-haired as given in the zulu legends of cannibals; neither could they possibly have formed their historical basis..... it is perfectly clear that the cannibals of the zulu legends are not common men; they are magnified into giants and magicians; they are remarkably swift and enduring; fierce and terrible warriors." very probably they may have a mythical origin in modes of thought akin to those which begot the panis of the veda and the northern trolls. the parallelism is perhaps the most remarkable one which can be found in comparing barbaric with aryan folk-lore. like the panis and trolls, the cannibals are represented as the foes of the solar hero uthlakanyana, who is almost as great a traveller as odysseus, and whose presence of mind amid trying circumstances is not to be surpassed by that of the incomparable boots. uthlakanyana is as precocious as herakles or hermes. he speaks before he is born, and no sooner has he entered the world than he begins to outwit other people and get possession of their property. he works bitter ruin for the cannibals, who, with all their strength and fleetness, are no better endowed with quick wit than the trolls, whom boots invariably victimizes. on one of his journeys, uthlakanyana fell in with a cannibal. their greetings were cordial enough, and they ate a bit of leopard together, and began to build a house, and killed a couple of cows, but the cannibal's cow was lean, while uthlakanyana's was fat. then the crafty traveller, fearing that his companion might insist upon having the fat cow, turned and said, "'let the house be thatched now then we can eat our meat. you see the sky, that we shall get wet.' the cannibal said, 'you are right, child of my sister; you are a man indeed in saying, let us thatch the house, for we shall get wet.' uthlakanyana said, 'do you do it then; i will go inside, and push the thatching-needle for you, in the house.' the cannibal went up. his hair was very, very long. uthlakanyana went inside and pushed the needle for him. he thatched in the hair of the cannibal, tying it very tightly; he knotted it into the thatch constantly, taking it by separate locks and fastening it firmly, that it might be tightly fastened to the house." then the rogue went outside and began to eat of the cow which was roasted. "the cannibal said, 'what are you about, child of my sister? let us just finish the house; afterwards we can do that; we will do it together.' uthlakanyana replied, 'come down then. i cannot go into the house any more. the thatching is finished.' the cannibal assented. when he thought he was going to quit the house, he was unable to quit it. he cried out saying, 'child of my sister, how have you managed your thatching?' uthlakanyana said, 'see to it yourself. i have thatched well, for i shall not have any dispute. now i am about to eat in peace; i no longer dispute with anybody, for i am now alone with my cow.'" so the cannibal cried and raved and appealed in vain to uthlakanyana's sense of justice, until by and by "the sky came with hailstones and lightning uthlakanyana took all the meat into the house; he stayed in the house and lit a fire. it hailed and rained. the cannibal cried on the top of the house; he was struck with the hailstones, and died there on the house. it cleared. uthlakanyana went out and said, 'uncle, just come down, and come to me. it has become clear. it no longer rains, and there is no more hail, neither is there any more lightning. why are you silent?' so uthlakanyana ate his cow alone, until he had finished it. he then went on his way." [ ] in another zulu legend, a girl is stolen by cannibals, and shut up in the rock itshe-likantunjambili, which, like the rock of the forty thieves, opens and shuts at the command of those who understand its secret. she gets possession of the secret and escapes, and when the monsters pursue her she throws on the ground a calabash full of sesame, which they stop to eat. at last, getting tired of running, she climbs a tree, and there she finds her brother, who, warned by a dream, has come out to look for her. they ascend the tree together until they come to a beautiful country well stocked with fat oxen. they kill an ox, and while its flesh is roasting they amuse themselves by making a stout thong of its hide. by and by one of the cannibals, smelling the cooking meat, comes to the foot of the tree, and looking up discovers the boy and girl in the sky-country! they invite him up there; to share in their feast, and throw him an end of the thong by which to climb up. when the cannibal is dangling midway between earth and heaven, they let go the rope, and down he falls with a terrible crash. [ ] in this story the enchanted rock opened by a talismanic formula brings us again into contact with indo-european folk-lore. and that the conception has in both cases been suggested by the same natural phenomenon is rendered probable by another zulu tale, in which the cannibal's cave is opened by a swallow which flies in the air. here we have the elements of a genuine lightning-myth. we see that among these african barbarians, as well as among our own forefathers, the clouds have been conceived as birds carrying the lightning which can cleave the rocks. in america we find the same notion prevalent. the dakotahs explain the thunder as "the sound of the cloud-bird flapping his wings," and the caribs describe the lightning as a poisoned dart which the bird blows through a hollow reed, after the carib style of shooting. [ ] on the other hand, the kamtchatkans know nothing of a cloud-bird, but explain the lightning as something analogous to the flames of a volcano. the kamtchatkans say that when the mountain goblins have got their stoves well heated up, they throw overboard, with true barbaric shiftlessness, all the brands not needed for immediate use, which makes a volcanic eruption. so when it is summer on earth, it is winter in heaven; and the gods, after heating up their stoves, throw away their spare kindlingwood, which makes the lightning. [ ] when treating of indo-european solar myths, we saw the unvarying, unresting course of the sun variously explained as due to the subjection of herakles to eurystheus, to the anger of poseidon at odysseus, or to the curse laid upon the wandering jew. the barbaric mind has worked at the same problem; but the explanations which it has given are more childlike and more grotesque. a polynesian myth tells how the sun used to race through the sky so fast that men could not get enough daylight to hunt game for their subsistence. by and by an inventive genius, named maui, conceived the idea of catching the sun in a noose and making him go more deliberately. he plaited ropes and made a strong net, and, arming himself with the jawbone of his ancestress, muri-ranga-whenua, called together all his brethren, and they journeyed to the place where the sun rises, and there spread the net. when the sun came up, he stuck his head and fore-paws into the net, and while the brothers tightened the ropes so that they cut him and made him scream for mercy, maui beat him with the jawbone until he became so weak that ever since he has only been able to crawl through the sky. according to another polynesian myth, there was once a grumbling radical, who never could be satisfied with the way in which things are managed on this earth. this bold radical set out to build a stone house which should last forever; but the days were so short and the stones so heavy that he despaired of ever accomplishing his project. one night, as he lay awake thinking the matter over, it occurred to him that if he could catch the sun in a net, he could have as much daylight as was needful in order to finish his house. so he borrowed a noose from the god itu, and, it being autumn, when the sun gets sleepy and stupid, he easily caught the luminary. the sun cried till his tears made a great freshet which nearly drowned the island; but it was of no use; there he is tethered to this day. similar stories are met with in north america. a dog-rib indian once chased a squirrel up a tree until he reached the sky. there he set a snare for the squirrel and climbed down again. next day the sun was caught in the snare, and night came on at once. that is to say, the sun was eclipsed. "something wrong up there," thought the indian, "i must have caught the sun"; and so he sent up ever so many animals to release the captive. they were all burned to ashes, but at last the mole, going up and burrowing out through the ground of the sky, (!) succeeded in gnawing asunder the cords of the snare. just as it thrust its head out through the opening made in the sky-ground, it received a flash of light which put its eyes out, and that is why the mole is blind. the sun got away, but has ever since travelled more deliberately. [ ] these sun-myths, many more of which are to be found collected in mr. tylor's excellent treatise on "the early history of mankind," well illustrate both the similarity and the diversity of the results obtained by the primitive mind, in different times and countries, when engaged upon similar problems. no one would think of referring these stories to a common traditional origin with the myths of herakles and odysseus; yet both classes of tales were devised to explain the same phenomenon. both to the aryan and to the polynesian the steadfast but deliberate journey of the sun through the firmament was a strange circumstance which called for explanation; but while the meagre intelligence of the barbarian could only attain to the quaint conception of a man throwing a noose over the sun's head, the rich imagination of the indo-european created the noble picture of herakles doomed to serve the son of sthenelos, in accordance with the resistless decree of fate. another world-wide myth, which shows how similar are the mental habits of uncivilized men, is the myth of the tortoise. the hindu notion of a great tortoise that lies beneath the earth and keeps it from falling is familiar to every reader. according to one account, this tortoise, swimming in the primeval ocean, bears the earth on his back; but by and by, when the gods get ready to destroy mankind, the tortoise will grow weary and sink under his load, and then the earth will be overwhelmed by a deluge. another legend tells us that when the gods and demons took mount mandara for a churning-stick and churned the ocean to make ambrosia, the god vishnu took on the form of a tortoise and lay at the bottom of the sea, as a pivot for the whirling mountain to rest upon. but these versions of the myth are not primitive. in the original conception the world is itself a gigantic tortoise swimming in a boundless ocean; the flat surface of the earth is the lower plate which covers the reptile's belly; the rounded shell which covers his back is the sky; and the human race lives and moves and has its being inside of the tortoise. now, as mr. tylor has pointed out, many tribes of redskins hold substantially the same theory of the universe. they regard the tortoise as the symbol of the world, and address it as the mother of mankind. once, before the earth was made, the king of heaven quarrelled with his wife, and gave her such a terrible kick that she fell down into the sea. fortunately a tortoise received her on his back, and proceeded to raise up the earth, upon which the heavenly woman became the mother of mankind. these first men had white faces, and they used to dig in the ground to catch badgers. one day a zealous burrower thrust his knife too far and stabbed the tortoise, which immediately sank into the sea and drowned all the human race save one man. [ ] in finnish mythology the world is not a tortoise, but it is an egg, of which the white part is the ocean, the yolk is the earth, and the arched shell is the sky. in india this is the mundane egg of brahma; and it reappears among the yorubas as a pair of calabashes put together like oyster-shells, one making a dome over the other. in zulu-land the earth is a huge beast called usilosimapundu, whose face is a rock, and whose mouth is very large and broad and red: "in some countries which were on his body it was winter, and in others it was early harvest." many broad rivers flow over his back, and he is covered with forests and hills, as is indicated in his name, which means "the rugose or knotty-backed beast." in this group of conceptions may be seen the origin of sindbad's great fish, which lay still so long that sand and clay gradually accumulated upon its back, and at last it became covered with trees. and lastly, passing from barbaric folk-lore and from the arabian nights to the highest level of indo-european intelligence, do we not find both plato and kepler amusing themselves with speculations in which the earth figures as a stupendous animal? vi. juventus mundi. [ ] twelve years ago, when, in concluding his "studies on homer and the homeric age," mr. gladstone applied to himself the warning addressed by agamemnon to the priest of apollo, "let not nemesis catch me by the swift ships." he would seem to have intended it as a last farewell to classical studies. yet, whatever his intentions may have been, they have yielded to the sweet desire of revisiting familiar ground,--a desire as strong in the breast of the classical scholar as was the yearning which led odysseus to reject the proffered gift of immortality, so that he might but once more behold the wreathed smoke curling about the roofs of his native ithaka. in this new treatise, on the "youth of the world," mr. gladstone discusses the same questions which were treated in his earlier work; and the main conclusions reached in the "studies on homer" are here so little modified with reference to the recent progress of archaeological inquiries, that the book can hardly be said to have had any other reason for appearing, save the desire of loitering by the ships of the argives, and of returning thither as often as possible. the title selected by mr. gladstone for his new work is either a very appropriate one or a strange misnomer, according to the point of view from which it is regarded. such being the case, we might readily acquiesce in its use, and pass it by without comment, trusting that the author understood himself when he adopted it, were it not that by incidental references, and especially by his allusions to the legendary literature of the jews, mr. gladstone shows that he means more by the title than it can fairly be made to express. an author who seeks to determine prehistoric events by references to kadmos, and danaos, and abraham, is at once liable to the suspicion of holding very inadequate views as to the character of the epoch which may properly be termed the "youth of the world." often in reading mr. gladstone we are reminded of renan's strange suggestion that an exploration of the hindu kush territory, whence probably came the primitive aryans, might throw some new light on the origin of language. nothing could well be more futile. the primitive aryan language has already been partly reconstructed for us; its grammatical forms and syntactic devices are becoming familiar to scholars; one great philologist has even composed a tale in it; yet in studying this long-buried dialect we are not much nearer the first beginnings of human speech than in studying the greek of homer, the sanskrit of the vedas, or the umbrian of the igovine inscriptions. the aryan mother-tongue had passed into the last of the three stages of linguistic growth long before the break-up of the tribal communities in aryana-vaedjo, and at that early date presented a less primitive structure than is to be seen in the chinese or the mongolian of our own times. so the state of society depicted in the homeric poems, and well illustrated by mr. gladstone, is many degrees less primitive than that which is revealed to us by the archaeological researches either of pictet and windischmann, or of tylor, lubbock, and m'lennan. we shall gather evidences of this as we proceed. meanwhile let us remember that at least eleven thousand years before the homeric age men lived in communities, and manufactured pottery on the banks of the nile; and let us not leave wholly out of sight that more distant period, perhaps a million years ago, when sparse tribes of savage men, contemporaneous with the mammoths of siberia and the cave-tigers of britain, struggled against the intense cold of the glacial winters. nevertheless, though the homeric age appears to be a late one when considered with reference to the whole career of the human race, there is a point of view from which it may be justly regarded as the "youth of the world." however long man may have existed upon the earth, he becomes thoroughly and distinctly human in the eyes of the historian only at the epoch at which he began to create for himself a literature. as far back as we can trace the progress of the human race continuously by means of the written word, so far do we feel a true historical interest in its fortunes, and pursue our studies with a sympathy which the mere lapse of time is powerless to impair. but the primeval man, whose history never has been and never will be written, whose career on the earth, dateless and chartless, can be dimly revealed to us only by palaeontology, excites in us a very different feeling. though with the keenest interest we ransack every nook and corner of the earth's surface for information about him, we are all the while aware that what we are studying is human zoology and not history. our neanderthal man is a specimen, not a character. we cannot ask him the homeric question, what is his name, who were his parents, and how did he get where we found him. his language has died with him, and he can render no account of himself. we can only regard him specifically as homo anthropos, a creature of bigger brain than his congener homo pithekos, and of vastly greater promise. but this, we say, is physical science, and not history. for the historian, therefore, who studies man in his various social relations, the youth of the world is the period at which literature begins. we regard the history of the western world as beginning about the tenth century before the christian era, because at that date we find literature, in greece and palestine, beginning to throw direct light upon the social and intellectual condition of a portion of mankind. that great empires, rich in historical interest and in materials for sociological generalizations, had existed for centuries before that date, in egypt and assyria, we do not doubt, since they appear at the dawn of history with all the marks of great antiquity; but the only steady historical light thrown upon them shines from the pages of greek and hebrew authors, and these know them only in their latest period. for information concerning their early careers we must look, not to history, but to linguistic archaeology, a science which can help us to general results, but cannot enable us to fix dates, save in the crudest manner. we mention the tenth century before christ as the earliest period at which we can begin to study human society in general and greek society in particular, through the medium of literature. but, strictly speaking, the epoch in question is one which cannot be fixed with accuracy. the earliest ascertainable date in greek history is that of the olympiad of koroibos, b. c. . there is no doubt that the homeric poems were written before this date, and that homer is therefore strictly prehistoric. had this fact been duly realized by those scholars who have not attempted to deny it, a vast amount of profitless discussion might have been avoided. sooner or later, as grote says, "the lesson must be learnt, hard and painful though it be, that no imaginable reach of critical acumen will of itself enable us to discriminate fancy from reality, in the absence of a tolerable stock of evidence." we do not know who homer was; we do not know where or when he lived; and in all probability we shall never know. the data for settling the question are not now accessible, and it is not likely that they will ever be discovered. even in early antiquity the question was wrapped in an obscurity as deep as that which shrouds it to-day. the case between the seven or eight cities which claimed to be the birthplace of the poet, and which welcker has so ably discussed, cannot be decided. the feebleness of the evidence brought into court may be judged from the fact that the claims of chios and the story of the poet's blindness rest alike upon a doubtful allusion in the hymn to apollo, which thukydides (iii. ) accepted as authentic. the majority of modern critics have consoled themselves with the vague conclusion that, as between the two great divisions of the early greek world, homer at least belonged to the asiatic. but mr. gladstone has shown good reasons for doubting this opinion. he has pointed out several instances in which the poems seem to betray a closer topographical acquaintance with european than with asiatic greece, and concludes that athens and argos have at least as good a claim to homer as chios or smyrna. it is far more desirable that we should form an approximate opinion as to the date of the homeric poems, than that we should seek to determine the exact locality in which they originated. yet the one question is hardly less obscure than the other. different writers of antiquity assigned eight different epochs to homer, of which the earliest is separated from the most recent by an interval of four hundred and sixty years,--a period as long as that which separates the black prince from the duke of wellington, or the age of perikles from the christian era. while theopompos quite preposterously brings him down as late as the twenty-third olympiad, krates removes him to the twelfth century b. c. the date ordinarily accepted by modern critics is the one assigned by herodotos, b. c. yet mr. gladstone shows reasons, which appear to me convincing, for doubting or rejecting this date. i refer to the much-abused legend of the children of herakles, which seems capable of yielding an item of trustworthy testimony, provided it be circumspectly dealt with. i differ from mr. gladstone in not regarding the legend as historical in its present shape. in my apprehension, hyllos and oxylos, as historical personages, have no value whatever; and i faithfully follow mr. grote, in refusing to accept any date earlier than the olympiad of koroibos. the tale of the "return of the herakleids" is undoubtedly as unworthy of credit as the legend of hengst and horsa; yet, like the latter, it doubtless embodies a historical occurrence. one cannot approve, as scholarlike or philosophical, the scepticism of mr. cox, who can see in the whole narrative nothing but a solar myth. there certainly was a time when the dorian tribes--described in the legend as the allies of the children of herakles--conquered peloponnesos; and that time was certainly subsequent to the composition of the homeric poems. it is incredible that the iliad and the odyssey should ignore the existence of dorians in peloponnesos, if there were dorians not only dwelling but ruling there at the time when the poems were written. the poems are very accurate and rigorously consistent in their use of ethnical appellatives; and their author, in speaking of achaians and argives, is as evidently alluding to peoples directly known to him, as is shakespeare when he mentions danes and scotchmen. now homer knows achaians, argives, and pelasgians dwelling in peloponnesos; and he knows dorians also, but only as a people inhabiting crete. (odyss. xix. .) with homer, moreover, the hellenes are not the greeks in general but only a people dwelling in the north, in thessaly. when these poems were written, greece was not known as hellas, but as achaia,--the whole country taking its name from the achaians, the dominant race in peloponnesos. now at the beginning of the truly historical period, in the eighth century b. c., all this is changed. the greeks as a people are called hellenes; the dorians rule in peloponnesos, while their lands are tilled by argive helots; and the achaians appear only as an insignificant people occupying the southern shore of the corinthian gulf. how this change took place we cannot tell. the explanation of it can never be obtained from history, though some light may perhaps be thrown upon it by linguistic archaeology. but at all events it was a great change, and could not have taken place in a moment. it is fair to suppose that the helleno-dorian conquest must have begun at least a century before the first olympiad; for otherwise the geographical limits of the various greek races would not have been so completely established as we find them to have been at that date. the greeks, indeed, supposed it to have begun at least three centuries earlier, but it is impossible to collect evidence which will either refute or establish that opinion. for our purposes it is enough to know that the conquest could not have taken place later than b. c.; and if this be the case, the minimum date for the composition of the homeric poems must be the tenth century before christ; which is, in fact, the date assigned by aristotle. thus far, and no farther, i believe it possible to go with safety. whether the poems were composed in the tenth, eleventh, or twelfth century cannot be determined. we are justified only in placing them far enough back to allow the helleno-dorian conquest to intervene between their composition and the beginning of recorded history. the tenth century b. c. is the latest date which will account for all the phenomena involved in the case, and with this result we must be satisfied. even on this showing, the iliad and odyssey appear as the oldest existing specimens of aryan literature, save perhaps the hymns of the rig-veda and the sacred books of the avesta. the apparent difficulty of preserving such long poems for three or four centuries without the aid of writing may seem at first sight to justify the hypothesis of wolf, that they are mere collections of ancient ballads, like those which make up the mahabharata, preserved in the memories of a dozen or twenty bards, and first arranged under the orders of peisistratos. but on a careful examination this hypothesis is seen to raise more difficulties than it solves. what was there in the position of peisistratos, or of athens itself in the sixth century b. c., so authoritative as to compel all greeks to recognize the recension then and there made of their revered poet? besides which the celebrated ordinance of solon respecting the rhapsodes at the panathenaia obliges us to infer the existence of written manuscripts of homer previous to b. c. as mr. grote well observes, the interference of peisistratos "presupposes a certain foreknown and ancient aggregate, the main lineaments of which were familiar to the grecian public, although many of the rhapsodes in their practice may have deviated from it both by omission and interpolation. in correcting the athenian recitations conformably with such understood general type, peisistratos might hope both to procure respect for athens and to constitute a fashion for the rest of greece. but this step of 'collecting the torn body of sacred homer' is something generically different from the composition of a new iliad out of pre-existing songs: the former is as easy, suitable, and promising as the latter is violent and gratuitous." [ ] as for wolf's objection, that the iliad and odyssey are too long to have been preserved by memory, it may be met by a simple denial. it is a strange objection indeed, coming from a man of wolf's retentive memory. i do not see how the acquisition of the two poems can be regarded as such a very arduous task; and if literature were as scanty now as in greek antiquity, there are doubtless many scholars who would long since have had them at their tongues' end. sir g. c. lewis, with but little conscious effort, managed to carry in his head a very considerable portion of greek and latin classic literature; and niebuhr (who once restored from recollection a book of accounts which had been accidentally destroyed) was in the habit of referring to book and chapter of an ancient author without consulting his notes. nay, there is professor sophocles, of harvard university, who, if you suddenly stop and interrogate him in the street, will tell you just how many times any given greek word occurs in thukydides, or in aeschylos, or in plato, and will obligingly rehearse for you the context. if all extant copies of the homeric poems were to be gathered together and burnt up to-day, like don quixote's library, or like those arabic manuscripts of which cardinal ximenes made a bonfire in the streets of granada, the poems could very likely be reproduced and orally transmitted for several generations; and much easier must it have been for the greeks to preserve these books, which their imagination invested with a quasi-sanctity, and which constituted the greater part of the literary furniture of their minds. in xenophon's time there were educated gentlemen at athens who could repeat both iliad and odyssey verbatim. (xenoph. sympos., iii. .) besides this, we know that at chios there was a company of bards, known as homerids, whose business it was to recite these poems from memory; and from the edicts of solon and the sikyonian kleisthenes (herod., v. ), we may infer that the case was the same in other parts of greece. passages from the iliad used to be sung at the pythian festivals, to the accompaniment of the harp (athenaeus, xiv. ), and in at least two of the ionic islands of the aegaean there were regular competitive exhibitions by trained young men, at which prizes were given to the best reciter. the difficulty of preserving the poems, under such circumstances, becomes very insignificant; and the wolfian argument quite vanishes when we reflect that it would have been no easier to preserve a dozen or twenty short poems than two long ones. nay, the coherent, orderly arrangement of the iliad and odyssey would make them even easier to remember than a group of short rhapsodies not consecutively arranged. when we come to interrogate the poems themselves, we find in them quite convincing evidence that they were originally composed for the ear alone, and without reference to manuscript assistance. they abound in catchwords, and in verbal repetitions. the "catalogue of ships," as mr. gladstone has acutely observed, is arranged in well-defined sections, in such a way that the end of each section suggests the beginning of the next one. it resembles the versus memoriales found in old-fashioned grammars. but the most convincing proof of all is to be found in the changes which greek pronunciation went through between the ages of homer and peisistratos. "at the time when these poems were composed, the digamma (or w) was an effective consonant, and figured as such in the structure of the verse; at the time when they were committed to writing, it had ceased to be pronounced, and therefore never found a place in any of the manuscripts,--insomuch that the alexandrian critics, though they knew of its existence in the much later poems of alkaios and sappho, never recognized it in homer. the hiatus, and the various perplexities of metre, occasioned by the loss of the digamma, were corrected by different grammatical stratagems. but the whole history of this lost letter is very curious, and is rendered intelligible only by the supposition that the iliad and odyssey belonged for a wide space of time to the memory, the voice, and the ear exclusively." [ ] many of these facts are of course fully recognized by the wolfians; but the inference drawn from them, that the homeric poems began to exist in a piecemeal condition, is, as we have seen, unnecessary. these poems may indeed be compared, in a certain sense, with the early sacred and epic literature of the jews, indians, and teutons. but if we assign a plurality of composers to the psalms and pentateuch, the mahabharata, the vedas, and the edda, we do so because of internal evidence furnished by the books themselves, and not because these books could not have been preserved by oral tradition. is there, then, in the homeric poems any such internal evidence of dual or plural origin as is furnished by the interlaced elohistic and jehovistic documents of the pentateuch? a careful investigation will show that there is not. any scholar who has given some attention to the subject can readily distinguish the elohistic from the jehovistic portions of the pentateuch; and, save in the case of a few sporadic verses, most biblical critics coincide in the separation which they make between the two. but the attempts which have been made to break up the iliad and odyssey have resulted in no such harmonious agreement. there are as many systems as there are critics, and naturally enough. for the iliad and the odyssey are as much alike as two peas, and the resemblance which holds between the two holds also between the different parts of each poem. from the appearance of the injured chryses in the grecian camp down to the intervention of athene on the field of contest at ithaka, we find in each book and in each paragraph the same style, the same peculiarities of expression, the same habits of thought, the same quite unique manifestations of the faculty of observation. now if the style were commonplace, the observation slovenly, or the thought trivial, as is wont to be the case in ballad-literature, this argument from similarity might not carry with it much conviction. but when we reflect that throughout the whole course of human history no other works, save the best tragedies of shakespeare, have ever been written which for combined keenness of observation, elevation of thought, and sublimity of style can compare with the homeric poems, we must admit that the argument has very great weight indeed. let us take, for example, the sixth and twenty-fourth books of the iliad. according to the theory of lachmann, the most eminent champion of the wolfian hypothesis, these are by different authors. human speech has perhaps never been brought so near to the limit of its capacity of expressing deep emotion as in the scene between priam and achilleus in the twenty-fourth book; while the interview between hektor and andromache in the sixth similarly wellnigh exhausts the power of language. now, the literary critic has a right to ask whether it is probable that two such passages, agreeing perfectly in turn of expression, and alike exhibiting the same unapproachable degree of excellence, could have been produced by two different authors. and the physiologist--with some inward misgivings suggested by mr. galton's theory that the greeks surpassed us in genius even as we surpass the negroes--has a right to ask whether it is in the natural course of things for two such wonderful poets, strangely agreeing in their minutest psychological characteristics, to be produced at the same time. and the difficulty thus raised becomes overwhelming when we reflect that it is the coexistence of not two only, but at least twenty such geniuses which the wolfian hypothesis requires us to account for. that theory worked very well as long as scholars thoughtlessly assumed that the iliad and odyssey were analogous to ballad poetry. but, except in the simplicity of the primitive diction, there is no such analogy. the power and beauty of the iliad are never so hopelessly lost as when it is rendered into the style of a modern ballad. one might as well attempt to preserve the grandeur of the triumphant close of milton's lycidas by turning it into the light anacreontics of the ode to "eros stung by a bee." the peculiarity of the homeric poetry, which defies translation, is its union of the simplicity characteristic of an early age with a sustained elevation of style, which can be explained only as due to individual genius. the same conclusion is forced upon us when we examine the artistic structure of these poems. with regard to the odyssey in particular, mr. grote has elaborately shown that its structure is so thoroughly integral, that no considerable portion could be subtracted without converting the poem into a more or less admirable fragment. the iliad stands in a somewhat different position. there are unmistakable peculiarities in its structure, which have led even mr. grote, who utterly rejects the wolfian hypothesis, to regard it as made up of two poems; although he inclines to the belief that the later poem was grafted upon the earlier by its own author, by way of further elucidation and expansion; just as goethe, in his old age, added a new part to "faust." according to mr. grote, the iliad, as originally conceived, was properly an achilleis; its design being, as indicated in the opening lines of the poem, to depict the wrath of achilleus and the unutterable woes which it entailed upon the greeks the plot of this primitive achilleis is entirely contained in books i., viii., and xi.-xxii.; and, in mr. grote's opinion, the remaining books injure the symmetry of this plot by unnecessarily prolonging the duration of the wrath, while the embassy to achilleus, in the ninth book, unduly anticipates the conduct of agamemnon in the nineteenth, and is therefore, as a piece of bungling work, to be referred to the hands of an inferior interpolator. mr. grote thinks it probable that these books, with the exception of the ninth, were subsequently added by the poet, with a view to enlarging the original achilleis into a real iliad, describing the war of the greeks against troy. with reference to this hypothesis, i gladly admit that mr. grote is, of all men now living, the one best entitled to a reverential hearing on almost any point connected with greek antiquity. nevertheless it seems to me that his theory rests solely upon imagined difficulties which have no real existence. i doubt if any scholar, reading the iliad ever so much, would ever be struck by these alleged inconsistencies of structure, unless they were suggested by some a priori theory. and i fear that the wolfian theory, in spite of mr. grote's emphatic rejection of it, is responsible for some of these over-refined criticisms. even as it stands, the iliad is not an account of the war against troy. it begins in the tenth year of the siege, and it does not continue to the capture of the city. it is simply occupied with an episode in the war,--with the wrath of achilleus and its consequences, according to the plan marked out in the opening lines. the supposed additions, therefore, though they may have given to the poem a somewhat wider scope, have not at any rate changed its primitive character of an achilleis. to my mind they seem even called for by the original conception of the consequences of the wrath. to have inserted the battle at the ships, in which sarpedon breaks down the wall of the greeks, immediately after the occurrences of the first book, would have been too abrupt altogether. zeus, after his reluctant promise to thetis, must not be expected so suddenly to exhibit such fell determination. and after the long series of books describing the valorous deeds of aias, diomedes, agamemnon, odysseus, and menelaos, the powerful intervention of achilleus appears in far grander proportions than would otherwise be possible. as for the embassy to achilleus, in the ninth book, i am unable to see how the final reconciliation with agamemnon would be complete without it. as mr. gladstone well observes, what achilleus wants is not restitution, but apology; and agamemnon offers no apology until the nineteenth book. in his answer to the ambassadors, achilleus scornfully rejects the proposals which imply that the mere return of briseis will satisfy his righteous resentment, unless it be accompanied with that public humiliation to which circumstances have not yet compelled the leader of the greeks to subject himself. achilleus is not to be bought or cajoled. even the extreme distress of the greeks in the thirteenth book does not prevail upon him; nor is there anything in the poem to show that he ever would have laid aside his wrath, had not the death of patroklos supplied him with a new and wholly unforeseen motive. it seems to me that his entrance into the battle after the death of his friend would lose half its poetic effect, were it not preceded by some such scene as that in the ninth book, in which he is represented as deaf to all ordinary inducements. as for the two concluding books, which mr. grote is inclined to regard as a subsequent addition, not necessitated by the plan of the poem, i am at a loss to see how the poem can be considered complete without them. to leave the bodies of patroklos and hektor unburied would be in the highest degree shocking to greek religious feelings. remembering the sentence incurred, in far less superstitious times, by the generals at arginusai, it is impossible to believe that any conclusion which left patroklos's manes unpropitiated, and the mutilated corpse of hektor unransomed, could have satisfied either the poet or his hearers. for further particulars i must refer the reader to the excellent criticisms of mr. gladstone, and also to the article on "greek history and legend" in the second volume of mr. mill's "dissertations and discussions." a careful study of the arguments of these writers, and, above all, a thorough and independent examination of the iliad itself, will, i believe, convince the student that this great poem is from beginning to end the consistent production of a single author. the arguments of those who would attribute the iliad and odyssey, taken as wholes, to two different authors, rest chiefly upon some apparent discrepancies in the mythology of the two poems; but many of these difficulties have been completely solved by the recent progress of the science of comparative mythology. thus, for example, the fact that, in the iliad, hephaistos is called the husband of charis, while in the odyssey he is called the husband of aphrodite, has been cited even by mr. grote as evidence that the two poems are not by the same author. it seems to me that one such discrepancy, in the midst of complete general agreement, would be much better explained as cervantes explained his own inconsistency with reference to the stealing of sancho's mule, in the twenty-second chapter of "don quixote." but there is no discrepancy. aphrodite, though originally the moon-goddess, like the german horsel, had before homer's time acquired many of the attributes of the dawn-goddess athene, while her lunar characteristics had been to a great extent transferred to artemis and persephone. in her renovated character, as goddess of the dawn, aphrodite became identified with charis, who appears in the rig-veda as dawn-goddess. in the post-homeric mythology, the two were again separated, and charis, becoming divided in personality, appears as the charites, or graces, who were supposed to be constant attendants of aphrodite. but in the homeric poems the two are still identical, and either charis or aphrodite may be called the wife of the fire-god, without inconsistency. thus to sum up, i believe that mr. gladstone is quite right in maintaining that both the iliad and odyssey are, from beginning to end, with the exception of a few insignificant interpolations, the work of a single author, whom we have no ground for calling by any other name than that of homer. i believe, moreover, that this author lived before the beginning of authentic history, and that we can determine neither his age nor his country with precision. we can only decide that he was a greek who lived at some time previous to the year b.c. here, however, i must begin to part company with mr. gladstone, and shall henceforth unfortunately have frequent occasion to differ from him on points of fundamental importance. for mr. gladstone not only regards the homeric age as strictly within the limits of authentic history, but he even goes much further than this. he would not only fix the date of homer positively in the twelfth century b. c., but he regards the trojan war as a purely historical event, of which homer is the authentic historian and the probable eye-witness. nay, he even takes the word of the poet as proof conclusive of the historical character of events happening several generations before the troika, according to the legendary chronology. he not only regards agamemnon, achilleus, and paris as actual personages, but he ascribes the same reality to characters like danaos, kadmos, and perseus, and talks of the pelopid and aiolid dynasties, and the empire of minos, with as much confidence as if he were dealing with karlings or capetians, or with the epoch of the crusades. it is disheartening, at the present day, and after so much has been finally settled by writers like grote, mommsen, and sir g. c. lewis, to come upon such views in the work of a man of scholarship and intelligence. one begins to wonder how many more times it will be necessary to prove that dates and events are of no historical value, unless attested by nearly contemporary evidence. pausanias and plutarch were able men no doubt, and thukydides was a profound historian; but what these writers thought of the herakleid invasion, the age of homer, and the war of troy, can have no great weight with the critical historian, since even in the time of thukydides these events were as completely obscured by lapse of time as they are now. there is no literary greek history before the age of hekataios and herodotos, three centuries subsequent to the first recorded olympiad. a portion of this period is satisfactorily covered by inscriptions, but even these fail us before we get within a century of this earliest ascertainable date. even the career of the lawgiver lykourgos, which seems to belong to the commencement of the eighth century b. c., presents us, from lack of anything like contemporary records, with many insoluble problems. the helleno-dorian conquest, as we have seen, must have occurred at some time or other; but it evidently did not occur within two centuries of the earliest known inscription, and it is therefore folly to imagine that we can determine its date or ascertain the circumstances which attended it. anterior to this event there is but one fact in greek antiquity directly known to us,--the existence of the homeric poems. the belief that there was a trojan war rests exclusively upon the contents of those poems: there is no other independent testimony to it whatever. but the homeric poems are of no value as testimony to the truth of the statements contained in them, unless it can be proved that their author was either contemporary with the troika, or else derived his information from contemporary witnesses. this can never be proved. to assume, as mr. gladstone does, that homer lived within fifty years after the troika, is to make a purely gratuitous assumption. for aught the wisest historian can tell, the interval may have been five hundred years, or a thousand. indeed the iliad itself expressly declares that it is dealing with an ancient state of things which no longer exists. it is difficult to see what else can be meant by the statement that the heroes of the troika belong to an order of men no longer seen upon the earth. (iliad, v. .) most assuredly achilleus the son of thetis, and sarpedon the son of zeus, and helena the daughter of zeus, are no ordinary mortals, such as might have been seen and conversed with by the poet's grandfather. they belong to an inferior order of gods, according to the peculiar anthropomorphism of the greeks, in which deity and humanity are so closely mingled that it is difficult to tell where the one begins and the other ends. diomedes, single-handed, vanquishes not only the gentle aphrodite, but even the god of battles himself, the terrible ares. nestor quaffs lightly from a goblet which, we are told, not two men among the poet's contemporaries could by their united exertions raise and place upon a table. aias and hektor and aineias hurl enormous masses of rock as easily as an ordinary man would throw a pebble. all this shows that the poet, in his naive way, conceiving of these heroes as personages of a remote past, was endeavouring as far as possible to ascribe to them the attributes of superior beings. if all that were divine, marvellous, or superhuman were to be left out of the poems, the supposed historical residue would hardly be worth the trouble of saving. as mr. cox well observes, "it is of the very essence of the narrative that paris, who has deserted oinone, the child of the stream kebren, and before whom here, athene, and aphrodite had appeared as claimants for the golden apple, steals from sparta the beautiful sister of the dioskouroi; that the chiefs are summoned together for no other purpose than to avenge her woes and wrongs; that achilleus, the son of the sea-nymph thetis, the wielder of invincible weapons and the lord of undying horses, goes to fight in a quarrel which is not his own; that his wrath is roused because he is robbed of the maiden briseis, and that henceforth he takes no part in the strife until his friend patroklos has been slain; that then he puts on the new armour which thetis brings to him from the anvil of hephaistos, and goes forth to win the victory. the details are throughout of the same nature. achilleus sees and converses with athene; aphrodite is wounded by diomedes, and sleep and death bear away the lifeless sarpedon on their noiseless wings to the far-off land of light." in view of all this it is evident that homer was not describing, like a salaried historiographer, the state of things which existed in the time of his father or grandfather. to his mind the occurrences which he described were those of a remote, a wonderful, a semi-divine past. this conclusion, which i have thus far supported merely by reference to the iliad itself, becomes irresistible as soon as we take into account the results obtained during the past thirty years by the science of comparative mythology. as long as our view was restricted to greece, it was perhaps excusable that achilleus and paris should be taken for exaggerated copies of actual persons. since the day when grimm laid the foundations of the science of mythology, all this has been changed. it is now held that achilleus and paris and helena are to be found, not only in the iliad, but also in the rig-veda, and therefore, as mythical conceptions, date, not from homer, but from a period preceding the dispersion of the aryan nations. the tale of the wrath of achilleus, far from originating with homer, far from being recorded by the author of the iliad as by an eyewitness, must have been known in its essential features in aryana-vaedjo, at that remote epoch when the indian, the greek, and the teuton were as yet one and the same. for the story has been retained by the three races alike, in all its principal features; though the veda has left it in the sky where it originally belonged, while the iliad and the nibelungenlied have brought it down to earth, the one locating it in asia minor, and the other in northwestern europe. [ ] in the rig-veda the panis are the genii of night and winter, corresponding to the nibelungs, or "children of the mist," in the teutonic legend, and to the children of nephele (cloud) in the greek myth of the golden fleece. the panis steal the cattle of the sun (indra, helios, herakles), and carry them by an unknown route to a dark cave eastward. sarama, the creeping dawn, is sent by indra to find and recover them. the panis then tamper with sarama, and try their best to induce her to betray her solar lord. for a while she is prevailed upon to dally with them; yet she ultimately returns to give indra the information needful in order that he might conquer the panis, just as helena, in the slightly altered version, ultimately returns to her western home, carrying with her the treasures (ktemata, iliad, ii. ) of which paris had robbed menelaos. but, before the bright indra and his solar heroes can reconquer their treasures they must take captive the offspring of brisaya, the violet light of morning. thus achilleus, answering to the solar champion aharyu, takes captive the daughter of brises. but as the sun must always be parted from the morning-light, to return to it again just before setting, so achilleus loses briseis, and regains her only just before his final struggle. in similar wise herakles is parted from iole ("the violet one"), and sigurd from brynhild. in sullen wrath the hero retires from the conflict, and his myrmidons are no longer seen on the battle-field, as the sun hides behind the dark cloud and his rays no longer appear about him. yet toward the evening, as briseis returns, he appears in his might, clothed in the dazzling armour wrought for him by the fire-god hephaistos, and with his invincible spear slays the great storm-cloud, which during his absence had wellnigh prevailed over the champions of the daylight. but his triumph is short-lived; for having trampled on the clouds that had opposed him, while yet crimsoned with the fierce carnage, the sharp arrow of the night-demon paris slays him at the western gates. we have not space to go into further details. in mr. cox's "mythology of the aryan nations," and "tales of ancient greece," the reader will find the entire contents of the iliad and odyssey thus minutely illustrated by comparison with the veda, the edda, and the lay of the nibelungs. ancient as the homeric poems undoubtedly are, they are modern in comparison with the tale of achilleus and helena, as here unfolded. the date of the entrance of the greeks into europe will perhaps never be determined; but i do not see how any competent scholar can well place it at less than eight hundred or a thousand years before the time of homer. between the two epochs the greek, latin, umbrian, and keltic lauguages had time to acquire distinct individualities. far earlier, therefore, than the homeric "juventus mundi" was that "youth of the world," in which the aryan forefathers, knowing no abstract terms, and possessing no philosophy but fetichism, deliberately spoke of the sun, and the dawn, and the clouds, as persons or as animals. the veda, though composed much later than this,--perhaps as late as the iliad,--nevertheless preserves the record of the mental life of this period. the vedic poet is still dimly aware that sarama is the fickle twilight, and the panis the night-demons who strive to coax her from her allegiance to the day-god. he keeps the scene of action in the sky. but the homeric greek had long since forgotten that helena and paris were anything more than semi-divine mortals, the daughter of zeus and the son of the zeus-descended priam. the hindu understood that dyaus ("the bright one") meant the sky, and sarama ("the creeping one") the dawn, and spoke significantly when he called the latter the daughter of the former. but the greek could not know that zeus was derived from a root div, "to shine," or that helena belonged to a root sar, "to creep." phonetic change thus helped him to rise from fetichism to polytheism. his nature-gods became thoroughly anthropomorphic; and he probably no more remembered that achilleus originally signified the sun, than we remember that the word god, which we use to denote the most vast of conceptions, originally meant simply the storm-wind. indeed, when the fetichistic tendency led the greek again to personify the powers of nature, he had recourse to new names formed from his own language. thus, beside apollo we have helios; selene beside artemis and persephone; eos beside athene; gaia beside demeter. as a further consequence of this decomposition and new development of the old aryan mythology, we find, as might be expected, that the homeric poems are not always consistent in their use of their mythic materials. thus, paris, the night-demon, is--to max muller's perplexity--invested with many of the attributes of the bright solar heroes. "like perseus, oidipous, romulus, and cyrus, he is doomed to bring ruin on his parents; like them he is exposed in his infancy on the hillside, and rescued by a shepherd." all the solar heroes begin life in this way. whether, like apollo, born of the dark night (leto), or like oidipous, of the violet dawn (iokaste), they are alike destined to bring destruction on their parents, as the night and the dawn are both destroyed by the sun. the exposure of the child in infancy represents the long rays of the morning-sun resting on the hillside. then paris forsakes oinone ("the wine-coloured one"), but meets her again at the gloaming when she lays herself by his side amid the crimson flames of the funeral pyre. sarpedon also, a solar hero, is made to fight on the side of the niblungs or trojans, attended by his friend glaukos ("the brilliant one"). they command the lykians, or "children of light"; and with them comes also memnon, son of the dawn, from the fiery land of the aithiopes, the favourite haunt of zeus and the gods of olympos. the iliad-myth must therefore have been current many ages before the greeks inhabited greece, long before there was any ilion to be conquered. nevertheless, this does not forbid the supposition that the legend, as we have it, may have been formed by the crystallization of mythical conceptions about a nucleus of genuine tradition. in this view i am upheld by a most sagacious and accurate scholar, mr. e. a. freeman, who finds in carlovingian romance an excellent illustration of the problem before us. the charlemagne of romance is a mythical personage. he is supposed to have been a frenchman, at a time when neither the french nation nor the french language can properly be said to have existed; and he is represented as a doughty crusader, although crusading was not thought of until long after the karolingian era. the legendary deeds of charlemagne are not conformed to the ordinary rules of geography and chronology. he is a myth, and, what is more, he is a solar myth,--an avatar, or at least a representative, of odin in his solar capacity. if in his case legend were not controlled and rectified by history, he would be for us as unreal as agamemnon. history, however, tells us that there was an emperor karl, german in race, name, and language, who was one of the two or three greatest men of action that the world has ever seen, and who in the ninth century ruled over all western europe. to the historic karl corresponds in many particulars the mythical charlemagne. the legend has preserved the fact, which without the information supplied by history we might perhaps set down as a fiction, that there was a time when germany, gaul, italy, and part of spain formed a single empire. and, as mr. freeman has well observed, the mythical crusades of charlemagne are good evidence that there were crusades, although the real karl had nothing whatever to do with one. now the case of agamemnon may be much like that of charlemagne, except that we no longer have history to help us in rectifying the legend. the iliad preserves the tradition of a time when a large portion of the islands and mainland of greece were at least partially subject to a common suzerain; and, as mr. freeman has again shrewdly suggested, the assignment of a place like mykenai, instead of athens or sparta or argos, as the seat of the suzerainty, is strong evidence of the trustworthiness of the tradition. it appears to show that the legend was constrained by some remembered fact, instead of being guided by general probability. charlemagne's seat of government has been transferred in romance from aachen to paris; had it really been at paris, says mr. freeman, no one would have thought of transferring it to aachen. moreover, the story of agamemnon, though uncontrolled by historic records, is here at least supported by archaeologic remains, which prove mykenai to have been at some time or other a place of great consequence. then, as to the trojan war, we know that the greeks several times crossed the aegaean and colonized a large part of the seacoast of asia minor. in order to do this it was necessary to oust from their homes many warlike communities of lydians and bithynians, and we may be sure that this was not done without prolonged fighting. there may very probably have been now and then a levy en masse in prehistoric greece, as there was in mediaeval europe; and whether the great suzerain at mykenai ever attended one or not, legend would be sure to send him on such an expedition, as it afterwards sent charlemagne on a crusade. it is therefore quite possible that agamemnon and menelaos may represent dimly remembered sovereigns or heroes, with their characters and actions distorted to suit the exigencies of a narrative founded upon a solar myth. the character of the nibelungenlied here well illustrates that of the iliad. siegfried and brunhild, hagen and gunther, seem to be mere personifications of physical phenomena; but etzel and dietrich are none other than attila and theodoric surrounded with mythical attributes; and even the conception of brunhild has been supposed to contain elements derived from the traditional recollection of the historical brunehault. when, therefore, achilleus is said, like a true sun-god, to have died by a wound from a sharp instrument in the only vulnerable part of his body, we may reply that the legendary charlemagne conducts himself in many respects like a solar deity. if odysseus detained by kalypso represents the sun ensnared and held captive by the pale goddess of night, the legend of frederic barbarossa asleep in a thuringian mountain embodies a portion of a kindred conception. we know that charlemagne and frederic have been substituted for odin; we may suspect that with the mythical impersonations of achilleus and odysseus some traditional figures may be blended. we should remember that in early times the solar-myth was a sort of type after which all wonderful stories would be patterned, and that to such a type tradition also would be made to conform. in suggesting this view, we are not opening the door to euhemerism. if there is any one conclusion concerning the homeric poems which the labours of a whole generation of scholars may be said to have satisfactorily established, it is this, that no trustworthy history can be obtained from either the iliad or the odyssey merely by sifting out the mythical element. even if the poems contain the faint reminiscence of an actual event, that event is inextricably wrapped up in mythical phraseology, so that by no cunning of the scholar can it be construed into history. in view of this it is quite useless for mr. gladstone to attempt to base historical conclusions upon the fact that helena is always called "argive helen," or to draw ethnological inferences from the circumstances that menelaos, achilleus, and the rest of the greek heroes, have yellow hair, while the trojans are never so described. the argos of the myth is not the city of peloponnesos, though doubtless so construed even in homer's time. it is "the bright land" where zeus resides, and the epithet is applied to his wife here and his daughter helena, as well as to the dog of odysseus, who reappears with sarameyas in the veda. as for yellow hair, there is no evidence that greeks have ever commonly possessed it; but no other colour would do for a solar hero, and it accordingly characterizes the entire company of them, wherever found, while for the trojans, or children of night, it is not required. a wider acquaintance with the results which have been obtained during the past thirty years by the comparative study of languages and mythologies would have led mr. gladstone to reconsider many of his views concerning the homeric poems, and might perhaps have led him to cut out half or two thirds of his book as hopelessly antiquated. the chapter on the divinities of olympos would certainly have had to be rewritten, and the ridiculous theory of a primeval revelation abandoned. one can hardly preserve one's gravity when mr. gladstone derives apollo from the hebrew messiah, and athene from the logos. to accredit homer with an acquaintance with the doctrine of the logos, which did not exist until the time of philo, and did not receive its authorized christian form until the middle of the second century after christ, is certainly a strange proceeding. we shall next perhaps be invited to believe that the authors of the volsunga saga obtained the conception of sigurd from the "thirty-nine articles." it is true that these deities, athene and apollo, are wiser, purer, and more dignified, on the whole, than any of the other divinities of the homeric olympos. they alone, as mr. gladstone truly observes, are never deceived or frustrated. for all hellas, apollo was the interpreter of futurity, and in the maid athene we have perhaps the highest conception of deity to which the greek mind had attained in the early times. in the veda, athene is nothing but the dawn; but in the greek mythology, while the merely sensuous glories of daybreak are assigned to eos, athene becomes the impersonation of the illuminating and knowledge-giving light of the sky. as the dawn, she is daughter of zeus, the sky, and in mythic language springs from his forehead; but, according to the greek conception, this imagery signifies that she shares, more than any other deity, in the boundless wisdom of zeus. the knowledge of apollo, on the other hand, is the peculiar privilege of the sun, who, from his lofty position, sees everything that takes place upon the earth. even the secondary divinity helios possesses this prerogative to a certain extent. next to a hebrew, mr. gladstone prefers a phoenician ancestry for the greek divinities. but the same lack of acquaintance with the old aryan mythology vitiates all his conclusions. no doubt the greek mythology is in some particulars tinged with phoenician conceptions. aphrodite was originally a purely greek divinity, but in course of time she acquired some of the attributes of the semitic astarte, and was hardly improved by the change. adonis is simply a semitic divinity, imported into greece. but the same cannot be proved of poseidon; [ ] far less of hermes, who is identical with the vedic sarameyas, the rising wind, the son of sarama the dawn, the lying, tricksome wind-god, who invented music, and conducts the souls of dead men to the house of hades, even as his counterpart the norse odin rushes over the tree-tops leading the host of the departed. when one sees iris, the messenger of zeus, referred to a hebrew original, because of jehovah's promise to noah, one is at a loss to understand the relationship between the two conceptions. nothing could be more natural to the greeks than to call the rainbow the messenger of the sky-god to earth-dwelling men; to call it a token set in the sky by jehovah, as the hebrews did, was a very different thing. we may admit the very close resemblance between the myth of bellerophon and anteia, and that of joseph and zuleikha; but the fact that the greek story is explicable from aryan antecedents, while the hebrew story is isolated, might perhaps suggest the inference that the hebrews were the borrowers, as they undoubtedly were in the case of the myth of eden. lastly, to conclude that helios is an eastern deity, because he reigns in the east over thrinakia, is wholly unwarranted. is not helios pure greek for the sun? and where should his sacred island be placed, if not in the east? as for his oxen, which wrought such dire destruction to the comrades of odysseus, and which seem to mr. gladstone so anomalous, they are those very same unhappy cattle, the clouds, which were stolen by the storm-demon cacus and the wind-deity hermes, and which furnished endless material for legends to the poets of the veda. but the whole subject of comparative mythology seems to be terra incognita to mr. gladstone. he pursues the even tenour of his way in utter disregard of grimm, and kuhn, and breal, and dasent, and burnouf. he takes no note of the rig-veda, nor does he seem to realize that there was ever a time when the ancestors of the greeks and hindus worshipped the same gods. two or three times he cites max muller, but makes no use of the copious data which might be gathered from him. the only work which seems really to have attracted his attention is m. jacolliot's very discreditable performance called "the bible in india." mr. gladstone does not, indeed, unreservedly approve of this book; but neither does he appear to suspect that it is a disgraceful piece of charlatanry, written by a man ignorant of the very rudiments of the subject which he professes to handle. mr. gladstone is equally out of his depth when he comes to treat purely philological questions. of the science of philology, as based upon established laws of phonetic change, he seems to have no knowledge whatever. he seems to think that two words are sufficiently proved to be connected when they are seen to resemble each other in spelling or in sound. thus he quotes approvingly a derivation of the name themis from an assumed verb them, "to speak," whereas it is notoriously derived from tiqhmi, as statute comes ultimately from stare. his reference of hieros, "a priest," and geron, "an old man," to the same root, is utterly baseless; the one is the sanskrit ishiras, "a powerful man," the other is the sanskrit jaran, "an old man." the lists of words on pages - are disfigured by many such errors; and indeed the whole purpose for which they are given shows how sadly mr. gladstone's philology is in arrears. the theory of niebuhr--that the words common to greek and latin, mostly descriptive of peaceful occupations, are pelasgian--was serviceable enough in its day, but is now rendered wholly antiquated by the discovery that such words are aryan, in the widest sense. the pelasgian theory works very smoothly so long as we only compare the greek with the latin words,--as, for instance, sugon with jugum; but when we add the english yoke and the sanskrit yugam, it is evident that we have got far out of the range of the pelasgoi. but what shall we say when we find mr. gladstone citing the latin thalamus in support of this antiquated theory? doubtless the word thalamus is, or should be, significative of peaceful occupations; but it is not a latin word at all, except by adoption. one might as well cite the word ensemble to prove the original identity or kinship between english and french. when mr. gladstone, leaving the dangerous ground of pure and applied philology, confines himself to illustrating the contents of the homeric poems, he is always excellent. his chapter on the "outer geography" of the odyssey is exceedingly interesting; showing as it does how much may be obtained from the patient and attentive study of even a single author. mr. gladstone's knowledge of the surface of the iliad and odyssey, so to speak, is extensive and accurate. it is when he attempts to penetrate beneath the surface and survey the treasures hidden in the bowels of the earth, that he shows himself unprovided with the talisman of the wise dervise, which alone can unlock those mysteries. but modern philology is an exacting science: to approach its higher problems requires an amount of preparation sufficient to terrify at the outset all but the boldest; and a man who has had to regulate taxation, and make out financial statements, and lead a political party in a great nation, may well be excused for ignorance of philology. it is difficult enough for those who have little else to do but to pore over treatises on phonetics, and thumb their lexicons, to keep fully abreast with the latest views in linguistics. in matters of detail one can hardly ever broach a new hypothesis without misgivings lest somebody, in some weekly journal published in germany, may just have anticipated and refuted it. yet while mr. gladstone may be excused for being unsound in philology, it is far less excusable that he should sit down to write a book about homer, abounding in philological statements, without the slightest knowledge of what has been achieved in that science for several years past. in spite of all drawbacks, however, his book shows an abiding taste for scholarly pursuits, and therefore deserves a certain kind of praise. i hope,--though just now the idea savours of the ludicrous,--that the day may some time arrive when our congressmen and secretaries of the treasury will spend their vacations in writing books about greek antiquities, or in illustrating the meaning of homeric phrases. july, . vii. the primeval ghost-world. no earnest student of human culture can as yet have forgotten or wholly outlived the feeling of delight awakened by the first perusal of max muller's brilliant "essay on comparative mythology,"--a work in which the scientific principles of myth-interpretation, though not newly announced, were at least brought home to the reader with such an amount of fresh and striking concrete illustration as they had not before received. yet it must have occurred to more than one reader that, while the analyses of myths contained in this noble essay are in the main sound in principle and correct in detail, nevertheless the author's theory of the genesis of myth is expressed, and most likely conceived, in a way that is very suggestive of carelessness and fallacy. there are obvious reasons for doubting whether the existence of mythology can be due to any "disease," abnormity, or hypertrophy of metaphor in language; and the criticism at once arises, that with the myth-makers it was not so much the character of the expression which originated the thought, as it was the thought which gave character to the expression. it is not that the early aryans were myth-makers because their language abounded in metaphor; it is that the aryan mother-tongue abounded in metaphor because the men and women who spoke it were myth-makers. and they were myth-makers because they had nothing but the phenomena of human will and effort with which to compare objective phenomena. therefore it was that they spoke of the sun as an unwearied voyager or a matchless archer, and classified inanimate no less than animate objects as masculine and feminine. max muller's way of stating his theory, both in this essay and in his later lectures, affords one among several instances of the curious manner in which he combines a marvellous penetration into the significance of details with a certain looseness of general conception. [ ] the principles of philological interpretation are an indispensable aid to us in detecting the hidden meaning of many a legend in which the powers of nature are represented in the guise of living and thinking persons; but before we can get at the secret of the myth-making tendency itself, we must leave philology and enter upon a psychological study. we must inquire into the characteristics of that primitive style of thinking to which it seemed quite natural that the sun should be an unerring archer, and the thunder-cloud a black demon or gigantic robber finding his richly merited doom at the hands of the indignant lord of light. among recent treatises which have dealt with this interesting problem, we shall find it advantageous to give especial attention to mr. tylor's "primitive culture," [ ] one of the few erudite works which are at once truly great and thoroughly entertaining. the learning displayed in it would do credit to a german specialist, both for extent and for minuteness, while the orderly arrangement of the arguments and the elegant lucidity of the style are such as we are accustomed to expect from french essay-writers. and what is still more admirable is the way in which the enthusiasm characteristic of a genial and original speculator is tempered by the patience and caution of a cool-headed critic. patience and caution are nowhere more needed than in writers who deal with mythology and with primitive religious ideas; but these qualities are too seldom found in combination with the speculative boldness which is required when fresh theories are to be framed or new paths of investigation opened. the state of mind in which the explaining powers of a favourite theory are fondly contemplated is, to some extent, antagonistic to the state of mind in which facts are seen, with the eye of impartial criticism, in all their obstinate and uncompromising reality. to be able to preserve the balance between the two opposing tendencies is to give evidence of the most consummate scientific training. it is from the want of such a balance that the recent great work of mr. cox is at times so unsatisfactory. it may, i fear, seem ill-natured to say so, but the eagerness with which mr. cox waylays every available illustration of the physical theory of the origin of myths has now and then the curious effect of weakening the reader's conviction of the soundness of the theory. for my own part, though by no means inclined to waver in adherence to a doctrine once adopted on good grounds, i never felt so much like rebelling against the mythologic supremacy of the sun and the dawn as when reading mr. cox's volumes. that mr. tylor, while defending the same fundamental theory, awakens no such rebellious feelings, is due to his clear perception and realization of the fact that it is impossible to generalize in a single formula such many-sided correspondences as those which primitive poetry end philosophy have discerned between the life of man and the life of outward nature. whoso goes roaming up and down the elf-land of popular fancies, with sole intent to resolve each episode of myth into some answering physical event, his only criterion being outward resemblance, cannot be trusted in his conclusions, since wherever he turns for evidence he is sure to find something that can be made to serve as such. as mr. tylor observes, no household legend or nursery rhyme is safe from his hermeneutics. "should he, for instance, demand as his property the nursery 'song of sixpence,' his claim would be easily established,--obviously the four-and-twenty blackbirds are the four-and-twenty hours, and the pie that holds them is the underlying earth covered with the overarching sky,--how true a touch of nature it is that when the pie is opened, that is, when day breaks, the birds begin to sing; the king is the sun, and his counting out his money is pouring out the sunshine, the golden shower of danae; the queen is the moon, and her transparent honey the moonlight; the maid is the 'rosy-fingered' dawn, who rises before the sun, her master, and hangs out the clouds, his clothes, across the sky; the particular blackbird, who so tragically ends the tale by snipping off her nose, is the hour of sunrise." in all this interpretation there is no a priori improbability, save, perhaps, in its unbroken symmetry and completeness. that some points, at least, of the story are thus derived from antique interpretations of physical events, is in harmony with all that we know concerning nursery rhymes. in short, "the time-honoured rhyme really wants but one thing to prove it a sun-myth, that one thing being a proof by some argument more valid than analogy." the character of the argument which is lacking may be illustrated by a reference to the rhyme about jack and jill, explained some time since in the paper on "the origins of folk lore." if the argument be thought valid which shows these ill-fated children to be the spots on the moon, it is because the proof consists, not in the analogy, which is in this case not especially obvious, but in the fact that in the edda, and among ignorant swedish peasants of our own day, the story of jack and jill is actually given as an explanation of the moon-spots. to the neglect of this distinction between what is plausible and what is supported by direct evidence, is due much of the crude speculation which encumbers the study of myths. it is when mr. tylor merges the study of mythology into the wider inquiry into the characteristic features of the mode of thinking in which myths originated, that we can best appreciate the practical value of that union of speculative boldness and critical sobriety which everywhere distinguishes him. it is pleasant to meet with a writer who can treat of primitive religious ideas without losing his head over allegory and symbolism, and who duly realizes the fact that a savage is not a rabbinical commentator, or a cabalist, or a rosicrucian, but a plain man who draws conclusions like ourselves, though with feeble intelligence and scanty knowledge. the mystic allegory with which such modern writers as lord bacon have invested the myths of antiquity is no part of their original clothing, but is rather the late product of a style of reasoning from analogy quite similar to that which we shall perceive to have guided the myth-makers in their primitive constructions. the myths and customs and beliefs which, in an advanced stage of culture, seem meaningless save when characterized by some quaintly wrought device of symbolic explanation, did not seem meaningless in the lower culture which gave birth to them. myths, like words, survive their primitive meanings. in the early stage the myth is part and parcel of the current mode of philosophizing; the explanation which it offers is, for the time, the natural one, the one which would most readily occur to any one thinking on the theme with which the myth is concerned. but by and by the mode of philosophizing has changed; explanations which formerly seemed quite obvious no longer occur to any one, but the myth has acquired an independent substantive existence, and continues to be handed down from parents to children as something true, though no one can tell why it is true: lastly, the myth itself gradually fades from remembrance, often leaving behind it some utterly unintelligible custom or seemingly absurd superstitious notion. for example,--to recur to an illustration already cited in a previous paper,--it is still believed here and there by some venerable granny that it is wicked to kill robins; but he who should attribute the belief to the old granny's refined sympathy with all sentient existence, would be making one of the blunders which are always committed by those who reason a priori about historical matters without following the historical method. at an earlier date the superstition existed in the shape of a belief that the killing of a robin portends some calamity; in a still earlier form the calamity is specified as death; and again, still earlier, as death by lightning. another step backward reveals that the dread sanctity of the robin is owing to the fact that he is the bird of thor, the lightning god; and finally we reach that primitive stage of philosophizing in which the lightning is explained as a red bird dropping from its beak a worm which cleaveth the rocks. again, the belief that some harm is sure to come to him who saves the life of a drowning man, is unintelligible until it is regarded as a case of survival in culture. in the older form of the superstition it is held that the rescuer will sooner or later be drowned himself; and thus we pass to the fetichistic interpretation of drowning as the seizing of the unfortunate person by the water-spirit or nixy, who is naturally angry at being deprived of his victim, and henceforth bears a special grudge against the bold mortal who has thus dared to frustrate him. the interpretation of the lightning as a red bird, and of drowning as the work of a smiling but treacherous fiend, are parts of that primitive philosophy of nature in which all forces objectively existing are conceived as identical with the force subjectively known as volition. it is this philosophy, currently known as fetichism, but treated by mr. tylor under the somewhat more comprehensive name of "animism," which we must now consider in a few of its most conspicuous exemplifications. when we have properly characterized some of the processes which the untrained mind habitually goes through, we shall have incidentally arrived at a fair solution of the genesis of mythology. let us first note the ease with which the barbaric or uncultivated mind reaches all manner of apparently fanciful conclusions through reckless reasoning from analogy. it is through the operation of certain laws of ideal association that all human thinking, that of the highest as well as that of the lowest minds, is conducted: the discovery of the law of gravitation, as well as the invention of such a superstition as the hand of glory, is at bottom but a case of association of ideas. the difference between the scientific and the mythologic inference consists solely in the number of checks which in the former case combine to prevent any other than the true conclusion from being framed into a proposition to which the mind assents. countless accumulated experiences have taught the modern that there are many associations of ideas which do not correspond to any actual connection of cause and effect in the world of phenomena; and he has learned accordingly to apply to his newly framed notions the rigid test of verification. besides which the same accumulation of experiences has built up an organized structure of ideal associations into which only the less extravagant newly framed notions have any chance of fitting. the primitive man, or the modern savage who is to some extent his counterpart, must reason without the aid of these multifarious checks. that immense mass of associations which answer to what are called physical laws, and which in the mind of the civilized modern have become almost organic, have not been formed in the mind of the savage; nor has he learned the necessity of experimentally testing any of his newly framed notions, save perhaps a few of the commonest. consequently there is nothing but superficial analogy to guide the course of his thought hither or thither, and the conclusions at which he arrives will be determined by associations of ideas occurring apparently at haphazard. hence the quaint or grotesque fancies with which european and barbaric folk-lore is filled, in the framing of which the myth-maker was but reasoning according to the best methods at his command. to this simplest class, in which the association of ideas is determined by mere analogy, belong such cases as that of the zulu, who chews a piece of wood in order to soften the heart of the man with whom he is about to trade for cows, or the hessian lad who "thinks he may escape the conscription by carrying a baby-girl's cap in his pocket,--a symbolic way of repudiating manhood." [ ] a similar style of thinking underlies the mediaeval necromancer's practice of making a waxen image of his enemy and shooting at it with arrows, in order to bring about the enemy's death; as also the case of the magic rod, mentioned in a previous paper, by means of which a sound thrashing can be administered to an absent foe through the medium of an old coat which is imagined to cover him. the principle involved here is one which is doubtless familiar to most children, and is closely akin to that which irving so amusingly illustrates in his doughty general who struts through a field of cabbages or corn-stalks, smiting them to earth with his cane, and imagining himself a hero of chivalry conquering single-handed a host of caitiff ruffians. of like origin are the fancies that the breaking of a mirror heralds a death in the family,--probably because of the destruction of the reflected human image; that the "hair of the dog that bit you" will prevent hydrophobia if laid upon the wound; or that the tears shed by human victims, sacrificed to mother earth, will bring down showers upon the land. mr. tylor cites lord chesterfield's remark, "that the king had been ill, and that people generally expected the illness to be fatal, because the oldest lion in the tower, about the king's age, had just died. 'so wild and capricious is the human mind,'" observes the elegant letter-writer. but indeed, as mr. tylor justly remarks, "the thought was neither wild nor capricious; it was simply such an argument from analogy as the educated world has at length painfully learned to be worthless, but which, it is not too much to declare, would to this day carry considerable weight to the minds of four fifths of the human race." upon such symbolism are based most of the practices of divination and the great pseudo-science of astrology. "it is an old story, that when two brothers were once taken ill together, hippokrates, the physician, concluded from the coincidence that they were twins, but poseidonios, the astrologer, considered rather that they were born under the same constellation; we may add that either argument would be thought reasonable by a savage." so when a maori fortress is attacked, the besiegers and besieged look to see if venus is near the moon. the moon represents the fortress; and if it appears below the companion planet, the besiegers will carry the day, otherwise they will be repulsed. equally primitive and childlike was rousseau's train of thought on the memorable day at les charmettes when, being distressed with doubts as to the safety of his soul, he sought to determine the point by throwing a stone at a tree. "hit, sign of salvation; miss, sign of damnation!" the tree being a large one and very near at hand, the result of the experiment was reassuring, and the young philosopher walked away without further misgivings concerning this momentous question. [ ] when the savage, whose highest intellectual efforts result only in speculations of this childlike character, is confronted with the phenomena of dreams, it is easy to see what he will make of them. his practical knowledge of psychology is too limited to admit of his distinguishing between the solidity of waking experience and what we may call the unsubstantialness of the dream. he may, indeed, have learned that the dream is not to be relied on for telling the truth; the zulu, for example, has even reached the perverse triumph of critical logic achieved by our own aryan ancestors in the saying that "dreams go by contraries." but the zulu has not learned, nor had the primeval aryan learned, to disregard the utterances of the dream as being purely subjective phenomena. to the mind as yet untouched by modern culture, the visions seen and the voices heard in sleep possess as much objective reality as the gestures and shouts of waking hours. when the savage relates his dream, he tells how he saw certain dogs, dead warriors, or demons last night, the implication being that the things seen were objects external to himself. as mr. spencer observes, "his rude language fails to state the difference between seeing and dreaming that he saw, doing and dreaming that he did. from this inadequacy of his language it not only results that he cannot truly represent this difference to others, but also that he cannot truly represent it to himself. hence in the absence of an alternative interpretation, his belief, and that of those to whom he tells his adventures, is that his other self has been away and came back when he awoke. and this belief, which we find among various existing savage tribes, we equally find in the traditions of the early civilized races." [ ] let us consider, for a moment, this assumption of the other self, for upon this is based the great mass of crude inference which constitutes the primitive man's philosophy of nature. the hypothesis of the other self, which serves to account for the savage's wanderings during sleep in strange lands and among strange people, serves also to account for the presence in his dreams of parents, comrades, or enemies, known to be dead and buried. the other self of the dreamer meets and converses with the other selves of his dead brethren, joins with them in the hunt, or sits down with them to the wild cannibal banquet. thus arises the belief in an ever-present world of souls or ghosts, a belief which the entire experience of uncivilized man goes to strengthen and expand. the existence of some tribe or tribes of savages wholly destitute of religious belief has often been hastily asserted and as often called in question. but there is no question that, while many savages are unable to frame a conception so general as that of godhood, on the other hand no tribe has ever been found so low in the scale of intelligence as not to have framed the conception of ghosts or spiritual personalities, capable of being angered, propitiated, or conjured with. indeed it is not improbable a priori that the original inference involved in the notion of the other self may be sufficiently simple and obvious to fall within the capacity of animals even less intelligent than uncivilized man. an authentic case is on record of a skye terrier who, being accustomed to obtain favours from his master by sitting on his haunches, will also sit before his pet india-rubber ball placed on the chimney-piece, evidently beseeching it to jump down and play with him. [ ] such a fact as this is quite in harmony with auguste comte's suggestion that such intelligent animals as dogs, apes, and elephants may be capable of forming a few fetichistic notions. the behaviour of the terrier here rests upon the assumption that the ball is open to the same sort of entreaty which prevails with the master; which implies, not that the wistful brute accredits the ball with a soul, but that in his mind the distinction between life and inanimate existence has never been thoroughly established. just this confusion between things living and things not living is present throughout the whole philosophy of fetichism; and the confusion between things seen and things dreamed, which suggests the notion of another self, belongs to this same twilight stage of intelligence in which primeval man has not yet clearly demonstrated his immeasurable superiority to the brutes. [ ] the conception of a soul or other self, capable of going away from the body and returning to it, receives decisive confirmation from the phenomena of fainting, trance, catalepsy, and ecstasy, [ ] which occur less rarely among savages, owing to their irregular mode of life, than among civilized men. "further verification," observes mr. spencer, "is afforded by every epileptic subject, into whose body, during the absence of the other self, some enemy has entered; for how else does it happen that the other self on returning denies all knowledge of what his body has been doing? and this supposition, that the body has been 'possessed' by some other being, is confirmed by the phenomena of somnambulism and insanity." still further, as mr. spencer points out, when we recollect that savages are very generally unwilling to have their portraits taken, lest a portion of themselves should get carried off and be exposed to foul play, [ ] we must readily admit that the weird reflection of the person and imitation of the gestures in rivers or still woodland pools will go far to intensify the belief in the other self. less frequent but uniform confirmation is to be found in echoes, which in europe within two centuries have been commonly interpreted as the voices of mocking fiends or wood-nymphs, and which the savage might well regard as the utterances of his other self. with the savage's unwillingness to have his portrait taken, lest it fall into the hands of some enemy who may injure him by conjuring with it, may be compared the reluctance which he often shows toward telling his name, or mentioning the name of his friend, or king, or tutelar ghost-deity. in fetichistic thought, the name is an entity mysteriously associated with its owner, and it is not well to run the risk of its getting into hostile hands. along with this caution goes the similarly originated fear that the person whose name is spoken may resent such meddling with his personality. for the latter reason the dayak will not allude by name to the small pox, but will call it "the chief" or "jungle-leaves"; the laplander speaks of the bear as the "old man with the fur coat"; in annam the tiger is called "grandfather" or "lord"; while in more civilized communities such sayings are current as "talk of the devil, and he will appear," with which we may also compare such expressions as "eumenides" or "gracious ones" for the furies, and other like euphemisms. indeed, the maxim nil mortuis nisi bonum had most likely at one time a fetichistic flavour. in various islands of the pacific, for both the reasons above specified, the name of the reigning chief is so rigorously "tabu," that common words and even syllables resembling that name in sound must be omitted from the language. in new zealand, where a chiefs name was maripi, or "knife," it became necessary to call knives nekra; and in tahiti, fetu, "star," had to be changed into fetia, and tui, "to strike," became tiai, etc., because the king's name was tu. curious freaks are played with the languages of these islands by this ever-recurring necessity. among the kafirs the women have come to speak a different dialect from the men, because words resembling the names of their lords or male relatives are in like manner "tabu." the student of human culture will trace among such primeval notions the origin of the jew's unwillingness to pronounce the name of jehovah; and hence we may perhaps have before us the ultimate source of the horror with which the hebraizing puritan regards such forms of light swearing--"mon dieu," etc.--as are still tolerated on the continent of europe, but have disappeared from good society in puritanic england and america. the reader interested in this group of ideas and customs may consult tylor, early history of mankind, pp. , ; max muller, science of language, th edition, vol. ii. p. ; mackay, religious development of the greeks and hebrews, vol. i. p. . chamisso's well-known tale of peter schlemihl belongs to a widely diffused family of legends, which show that a man's shadow has been generally regarded not only as an entity, but as a sort of spiritual attendant of the body, which under certain circumstances it may permanently forsake. it is in strict accordance with this idea that not only in the classic languages, but in various barbaric tongues, the word for "shadow" expresses also the soul or other self. tasmanians, algonquins, central-americans, abipones, basutos, and zulus are cited by mr. tylor as thus implicitly asserting the identity of the shadow with the ghost or phantasm seen in dreams; the basutos going so far as to think "that if a man walks on the river-bank, a crocodile may seize his shadow in the water and draw him in." among the algonquins a sick person is supposed to have his shadow or other self temporarily detached from his body, and the convalescent is at times "reproached for exposing himself before his shadow was safely settled down in him." if the sick man has been plunged into stupor, it is because his other self has travelled away as far as the brink of the river of death, but not being allowed to cross has come back and re-entered him. and acting upon a similar notion the ailing fiji will sometimes lie down and raise a hue and cry for his soul to be brought back. thus, continues mr. tylor, "in various countries the bringing back of lost souls becomes a regular part of the sorcerer's or priest's profession." [ ] on aryan soil we find the notion of a temporary departure of the soul surviving to a late date in the theory that the witch may attend the infernal sabbath while her earthly tabernacle is quietly sleeping at home. the primeval conception reappears, clothed in bitterest sarcasm, in dante's reference to his living contemporaries whose souls he met with in the vaults of hell, while their bodies were still walking about on the earth, inhabited by devils. the theory which identifies the soul with the shadow, and supposes the shadow to depart with the sickness and death of the body, would seem liable to be attended with some difficulties in the way of verification, even to the dim intelligence of the savage. but the propriety of identifying soul and breath is borne out by all primeval experience. the breath, which really quits the body at its decease, has furnished the chief name for the soul, not only to the hebrew, the sanskrit, and the classic tongues; not only to german and english, where geist, and ghost, according to max muller, have the meaning of "breath," and are akin to such words as gas, gust, and geyser; but also to numerous barbaric languages. among the natives of nicaragua and california, in java and in west australia, the soul is described as the air or breeze which passes in and out through the nostrils and mouth; and the greenlanders, according to cranz, reckon two separate souls, the breath and the shadow. "among the seminoles of florida, when a woman died in childbirth, the infant was held over her face to receive her parting spirit, and thus acquire strength and knowledge for its future use..... their state of mind is kept up to this day among tyrolese peasants, who can still fancy a good man's soul to issue from his mouth at death like a little white cloud." [ ] it is kept up, too, in lancashire, where a well-known witch died a few years since; "but before she could 'shuffle off this mortal coil' she must needs transfer her familiar spirit to some trusty successor. an intimate acquaintance from a neighbouring township was consequently sent for in all haste, and on her arrival was immediately closeted with her dying friend. what passed between them has never fully transpired, but it is confidently affirmed that at the close of the interview this associate received the witch's last breath into her mouth and with it her familiar spirit. the dreaded woman thus ceased to exist, but her powers for good or evil were transferred to her companion; and on passing along the road from burnley to blackburn we can point out a farmhouse at no great distance with whose thrifty matron no neighbouring farmer will yet dare to quarrel." [ ] of the theory of embodiment there will be occasion to speak further on. at present let us not pass over the fact that the other self is not only conceived as shadow or breath, which can at times quit the body during life, but is also supposed to become temporarily embodied in the visible form of some bird or beast. in discussing elsewhere the myth of bishop hatto, we saw that the soul is sometimes represented in the form of a rat or mouse; and in treating of werewolves we noticed the belief that the spirits of dead ancestors, borne along in the night-wind, have taken on the semblance of howling dogs or wolves. "consistent with these quaint ideas are ceremonies in vogue in china of bringing home in a cock (live or artificial) the spirit of a man deceased in a distant place, and of enticing into a sick man's coat the departing spirit which has already left his body and so conveying it back." [ ] in castren's great work on finnish mythology, we find the story of the giant who could not be killed because he kept his soul hidden in a twelve-headed snake which he carried in a bag as he rode on horseback; only when the secret was discovered and the snake carefully killed, did the giant yield up his life. in this finnish legend we have one of the thousand phases of the story of the "giant who had no heart in his body," but whose heart was concealed, for safe keeping, in a duck's egg, or in a pigeon, carefully disposed in some belfry at the world's end a million miles away, or encased in a wellnigh infinite series of chinese boxes. [ ] since, in spite of all these precautions, the poor giant's heart invariably came to grief, we need not wonder at the karen superstition that the soul is in danger when it quits the body on its excursions, as exemplified in countless indo-european stories of the accidental killing of the weird mouse or pigeon which embodies the wandering spirit. conversely it is held that the detachment of the other self is fraught with danger to the self which remains. in the philosophy of "wraiths" and "fetches," the appearance of a double, like that which troubled mistress affery in her waking dreams of mr. flintwinch, has been from time out of mind a signal of alarm. "in new zealand it is ominous to see the figure of an absent person, for if it be shadowy and the face not visible, his death may erelong be expected, but if the face be seen he is dead already. a party of maoris (one of whom told the story) were seated round a fire in the open air, when there appeared, seen only by two of them, the figure of a relative, left ill at home; they exclaimed, the figure vanished, and on the return of the party it appeared that the sick man had died about the time of the vision." [ ] the belief in wraiths has survived into modern times, and now and then appears in the records of that remnant of primeval philosophy known as "spiritualism," as, for example, in the case of the lady who "thought she saw her own father look in at the church-window at the moment he was dying in his own house." the belief in the "death-fetch," like the doctrine which identifies soul with shadow, is instructive as showing that in barbaric thought the other self is supposed to resemble the material self with which it has customarily been associated. in various savage superstitions the minute resemblance of soul to body is forcibly stated. the australian, for instance, not content with slaying his enemy, cuts off the right thumb of the corpse, so that the departed soul may be incapacitated from throwing a spear. even the half-civilized chinese prefer crucifixion to decapitation, that their souls may not wander headless about the spirit-world. [ ] thus we see how far removed from the christian doctrine of souls is the primeval theory of the soul or other self that figures in dreamland. so grossly materialistic is the primitive conception that the savage who cherishes it will bore holes in the coffin of his dead friend, so that the soul may again have a chance, if it likes, to revisit the body. to this day, among the peasants in some parts of northern europe, when odin, the spectral hunter, rides by attended by his furious host, the windows in every sick-room are opened, in order that the soul, if it chooses to depart, may not be hindered from joining in the headlong chase. and so, adds mr. tylor, after the indians of north america had spent a riotous night in singeing an unfortunate captive to death with firebrands, they would howl like the fiends they were, and beat the air with brushwood, to drive away the distressed and revengeful ghost. "with a kindlier feeling, the congo negroes abstained for a whole year after a death from sweeping the house, lest the dust should injure the delicate substance of the ghost"; and even now, "it remains a german peasant saying that it is wrong to slam a door, lest one should pinch a soul in it." [ ] dante's experience with the ghosts in hell and purgatory, who were astonished at his weighing down the boat in which they were carried, is belied by the sweet german notion "that the dead mother's coming back in the night to suckle the baby she has left on earth may be known by the hollow pressed down in the bed where she lay." almost universally ghosts, however impervious to thrust of sword or shot of pistol, can eat and drink like squire westerns. and lastly, we have the grotesque conception of souls sufficiently material to be killed over again, as in the case of the negro widows who, wishing to marry a second time, will go and duck themselves in the pond, in order to drown the souls of their departed husbands, which are supposed to cling about their necks; while, according to the fiji theory, the ghost of every dead warrior must go through a terrible fight with samu and his brethren, in which, if he succeeds, he will enter paradise, but if he fails he will be killed over again and finally eaten by the dreaded samu and his unearthly company. from the conception of souls embodied in beast-forms, as above illustrated, it is not a wide step to the conception of beast-souls which, like human souls, survive the death of the tangible body. the wide-spread superstitions concerning werewolves and swan-maidens, and the hardly less general belief in metempsychosis, show that primitive culture has not arrived at the distinction attained by modern philosophy between the immortal man and the soulless brute. still more direct evidence is furnished by sundry savage customs. the kafir who has killed an elephant will cry that he did n't mean to do it, and, lest the elephant's soul should still seek vengeance, he will cut off and bury the trunk, so that the mighty beast may go crippled to the spirit-land. in like manner, the samoyeds, after shooting a bear, will gather about the body offering excuses and laying the blame on the russians; and the american redskin will even put the pipe of peace into the dead animal's mouth, and beseech him to forgive the deed. in assam it is believed that the ghosts of slain animals will become in the next world the property of the hunter who kills them; and the kamtchadales expressly declare that all animals, even flies and bugs, will live after death,--a belief, which, in our own day, has been indorsed on philosophical grounds by an eminent living naturalist. [ ] the greenlanders, too, give evidence of the same belief by supposing that when after an exhausting fever the patient comes up in unprecedented health and vigour, it is because he has lost his former soul and had it replaced by that of a young child or a reindeer. in a recent work in which the crudest fancies of primeval savagery are thinly disguised in a jargon learned from the superficial reading of modern books of science, m. figuier maintains that human souls are for the most part the surviving souls of deceased animals; in general, the souls of precocious musical children like mozart come from nightingales, while the souls of great architects have passed into them from beavers, etc., etc. [ ] the practice of begging pardon of the animal one has just slain is in some parts of the world extended to the case of plants. when the talein offers a prayer to the tree which he is about to cut down, it is obviously because he regards the tree as endowed with a soul or ghost which in the next life may need to be propitiated. and the doctrine of transmigration distinctly includes plants along with animals among the future existences into which the human soul may pass. as plants, like animals, manifest phenomena of life, though to a much less conspicuous degree, it is not incomprehensible that the savage should attribute souls to them. but the primitive process of anthropomorphisation does not end here. not only the horse and dog, the bamboo, and the oak-tree, but even lifeless objects, such as the hatchet, or bow and arrows, or food and drink of the dead man, possess other selves which pass into the world of ghosts. fijis and other contemporary savages, when questioned, expressly declare that this is their belief. "if an axe or a chisel is worn out or broken up, away flies its soul for the service of the gods." the algonquins told charlevoix that since hatchets and kettles have shadows, no less than men and women, it follows, of course, that these shadows (or souls) must pass along with human shadows (or souls) into the spirit-land. in this we see how simple and consistent is the logic which guides the savage, and how inevitable is the genesis of the great mass of beliefs, to our minds so arbitrary and grotesque, which prevail throughout the barbaric world. however absurd the belief that pots and kettles have souls may seem to us, it is nevertheless the only belief which can be held consistently by the savage to whom pots and kettles, no less than human friends or enemies, may appear in his dreams; who sees them followed by shadows as they are moved about; who hears their voices, dull or ringing, when they are struck; and who watches their doubles fantastically dancing in the water as they are carried across the stream. [ ] to minds, even in civilized countries, which are unused to the severe training of science, no stronger evidence can be alleged than what is called "the evidence of the senses"; for it is only long familiarity with science which teaches us that the evidence of the senses is trustworthy only in so far as it is correctly interpreted by reason. for the truth of his belief in the ghosts of men and beasts, trees and axes, the savage has undeniably the evidence of his senses which have so often seen, heard, and handled these other selves. the funeral ceremonies of uncultured races freshly illustrate this crude philosophy, and receive fresh illustration from it. on the primitive belief in the ghostly survival of persons and objects rests the almost universal custom of sacrificing the wives, servants, horses, and dogs of the departed chief of the tribe, as well as of presenting at his shrine sacred offerings of food, ornaments, weapons, and money. among the kayans the slaves who are killed at their master's tomb are enjoined to take great care of their master's ghost, to wash and shampoo it, and to nurse it when sick. other savages think that "all whom they kill in this world shall attend them as slaves after death," and for this reason the thrifty dayaks of borneo until lately would not allow their young men to marry until they had acquired some post mortem property by procuring at least one human head. it is hardly necessary to do more than allude to the fiji custom of strangling all the wives of the deceased at his funeral, or to the equally well-known hindu rite of suttee. though, as wilson has shown, the latter rite is not supported by any genuine vedic authority, but only by a shameless brahmanic corruption of the sacred text, mr. tylor is nevertheless quite right in arguing that unless the horrible custom had received the sanction of a public opinion bequeathed from pre-vedic times, the brahmans would have had no motive for fraudulently reviving it; and this opinion is virtually established by the fact of the prevalence of widow sacrifice among gauls, scandinavians, slaves, and other european aryans. [ ] though under english rule the rite has been forcibly suppressed, yet the archaic sentiments which so long maintained it are not yet extinct. within the present year there has appeared in the newspapers a not improbable story of a beautiful and accomplished hindu lady who, having become the wife of a wealthy englishman, and after living several years in england amid the influences of modern society, nevertheless went off and privately burned herself to death soon after her husband's decease. the reader who thinks it far-fetched to interpret funeral offerings of food, weapons, ornaments, or money, on the theory of object-souls, will probably suggest that such offerings may be mere memorials of affection or esteem for the dead man. such, indeed, they have come to be in many countries after surviving the phase of culture in which they originated; but there is ample evidence to show that at the outset they were presented in the belief that their ghosts would be eaten or otherwise employed by the ghost of the dead man. the stout club which is buried with the dead fiji sends its soul along with him that he may be able to defend himself against the hostile ghosts which will lie in ambush for him on the road to mbulu, seeking to kill and eat him. sometimes the club is afterwards removed from the grave as of no further use, since its ghost is all that the dead man needs. in like manner, "as the greeks gave the dead man the obolus for charon's toll, and the old prussians furnished him with spending money, to buy refreshment on his weary journey, so to this day german peasants bury a corpse with money in his mouth or hand," and this is also said to be one of the regular ceremonies of an irish wake. of similar purport were the funeral feasts and oblations of food in greece and italy, the "rice-cakes made with ghee" destined for the hindu sojourning in yama's kingdom, and the meat and gruel offered by the chinaman to the manes of his ancestors. "many travellers have described the imagination with which the chinese make such offerings. it is that the spirits of the dead consume the impalpable essence of the food, leaving behind its coarse material substance, wherefore the dutiful sacrificers, having set out sumptuous feasts for ancestral souls, allow them a proper time to satisfy their appetite, and then fall to themselves." [ ] so in the homeric sacrifice to the gods, after the deity has smelled the sweet savour and consumed the curling steam that rises ghost-like from the roasting viands, "the assembled warriors devour the remains." [ ] thus far the course of fetichistic thought which we have traced out, with mr. tylor's aid, is such as is not always obvious to the modern inquirer without considerable concrete illustration. the remainder of the process, resulting in that systematic and complete anthropomorphisation of nature which has given rise to mythology, may be more succinctly described. gathering together the conclusions already obtained, we find that daily or frequent experience of the phenomena of shadows and dreams has combined with less frequent experience of the phenomena of trance, ecstasy, and insanity, to generate in the mind of uncultured man the notion of a twofold existence appertaining alike to all animate or inanimate objects: as all alike possess material bodies, so all alike possess ghosts or souls. now when the theory of object-souls is expanded into a general doctrine of spirits, the philosophic scheme of animism is completed. once habituated to the conception of souls of knives and tobacco-pipes passing to the land of ghosts, the savage cannot avoid carrying the interpretation still further, so that wind and water, fire and storm, are accredited with indwelling spirits akin by nature to the soul which inhabits the human frame. that the mighty spirit or demon by whose impelling will the trees are rooted up and the storm-clouds driven across the sky should resemble a freed human soul, is a natural inference, since uncultured man has not attained to the conception of physical force acting in accordance with uniform methods, and hence all events are to his mind the manifestations of capricious volition. if the fire burns down his hut, it is because the fire is a person with a soul, and is angry with him, and needs to be coaxed into a kindlier mood by means of prayer or sacrifice. thus the savage has a priori no alternative but to regard fire-soul as something akin to human-soul; and in point of fact we find that savage philosophy makes no distinction between the human ghost and the elemental demon or deity. this is sufficiently proved by the universal prevalence of the worship of ancestors. the essential principle of manes-worship is that the tribal chief or patriarch, who has governed the community during life, continues also to govern it after death, assisting it in its warfare with hostile tribes, rewarding brave warriors, and punishing traitors and cowards. thus from the conception of the living king we pass to the notion of what mr. spencer calls "the god-king," and thence to the rudimentary notion of deity. among such higher savages as the zulus, the doctrine of divine ancestors has been developed to the extent of recognizing a first ancestor, the great father, unkulunkulu, who made the world. but in the stratum of savage thought in which barbaric or aryan folk-lore is for the most part based, we find no such exalted speculation. the ancestors of the rude veddas and of the guinea negroes, the hindu pitris (patres, "fathers"), and the roman manes have become elemental deities which send rain or sunshine, health or sickness, plenty or famine, and to which their living offspring appeal for guidance amid the vicissitudes of life. [ ] the theory of embodiment, already alluded to, shows how thoroughly the demons which cause disease are identified with human and object souls. in australasia it is a dead man's ghost which creeps up into the liver of the impious wretch who has ventured to pronounce his name; while conversely in the well-known european theory of demoniacal possession, it is a fairy from elf-land, or an imp from hell, which has entered the body of the sufferer. in the close kinship, moreover, between disease-possession and oracle-possession, where the body of the pythia, or the medicine-man, is placed under the direct control of some great deity, [ ] we may see how by insensible transitions the conception of the human ghost passes into the conception of the spiritual numen, or divinity. to pursue this line of inquiry through the countless nymphs and dryads and nixies of the higher nature-worship up to the olympian divinities of classic polytheism, would be to enter upon the history of religious belief, and in so doing to lose sight of our present purpose, which has merely been to show by what mental process the myth-maker can speak of natural objects in language which implies that they are animated persons. brief as our account of this process has been, i believe that enough has been said, not only to reveal the inadequacy of purely philological solutions (like those contained in max muller's famous essay) to explain the growth of myths, but also to exhibit the vast importance for this purpose of the kind of psychological inquiry into the mental habits of savages which mr. tylor has so ably conducted. indeed, however lacking we may still be in points of detail, i think we have already reached a very satisfactory explanation of the genesis of mythology. since the essential characteristic of a myth is that it is an attempt to explain some natural phenomenon by endowing with human feelings and capacities the senseless factors in the phenomenon, and since it has here been shown how uncultured man, by the best use he can make of his rude common sense, must inevitably come, and has invariably come, to regard all objects as endowed with souls, and all nature as peopled with supra-human entities shaped after the general pattern of the human soul, i am inclined to suspect that we have got very near to the root of the whole matter. we can certainly find no difficulty in seeing why a water-spout should be described in the "arabian nights" as a living demon: "the sea became troubled before them, and there arose from it a black pillar, ascending towards the sky, and approaching the meadow,.... and behold it was a jinni, of gigantic stature." we can see why the moslem camel-driver should find it most natural to regard the whirling simoom as a malignant jinni; we may understand how it is that the persian sees in bodily shape the scarlet fever as "a blushing maid with locks of flame and cheeks all rosy red"; and we need not consider it strange that the primeval aryan should have regarded the sun as a voyager, a climber, or an archer, and the clouds as cows driven by the wind-god hermes to their milking. the identification of william tell with the sun becomes thoroughly intelligible; nor can we be longer surprised at the conception of the howling night-wind as a ravenous wolf. when pots and kettles are thought to have souls that live hereafter, there is no difficulty in understanding how the blue sky can have been regarded as the sire of gods and men. and thus, as the elves and bogarts of popular lore are in many cases descended from ancient divinities of olympos and valhalla, so these in turn must acknowledge their ancestors in the shadowy denizens of the primeval ghost-world. august, . note. the following are some of the modern works most likely to be of use to the reader who is interested in the legend of william tell. hisely, j. j. dissertatio historiea inauguralis de oulielmo tellio, etc. groningae, . ideler, j. l. die sage von dem schuss des tell. berlin, . hausser, l. die sage von tell aufs neue kritisch untersucht. heidelberg, . hisely, j. j. recherches critiques sur l'histoire de guillaume tell. lausanne, . liebenau, h. die tell-sage zu dem jahre historisoh nach neuesten quellen. aarau, . vischer, w. die sage von der befreinng der waldstatte, etc. nebst einer beilage: das alteste tellensehauspiel. leipzig, . bordier, h. l. le grutli et guillaume tell, ou defense de la tradition vulgaire sur les origines de la confederation suisse. geneve et bale, . the same. la querelle sur les traditions concernant l'origine de la confederation suisse. geneve et bale, . rilliet, a. les origines de la confederation suisse: histoire et legende. es ed., revue et corrigee. geneve et bale, . the same. lettre a m. henri bordier a propos de sa defense de la tradition vulgaire sur les origines de la confederation suisse. geneve et bale, . hungerbuhler, h. etude critique sur les traditions relatives aux origines de la confederation suisse. geneve et bale, . meyer, karl. die tellsage. [in bartsch, germanistische studien, i. - . wien, .] see also the articles by m. scherer, in le temps, feb., ; by m. reuss, in the revue critique d'histoire, ; by m. de wiss, in the journal de geneve, july, ; also revue critique, july, ; journal de geneve, oct., ; gazette de lausanne, feuilleton litteraire, - nov., , "les origines de la confederation suisse," par m. secretan; edinburgh review, jan., , "the legend of tell and rutli." footnotes: [footnote : see delepierre, historical difficulties, p. .] [footnote : saxo grammaticus, bk. x. p. , ed. frankf. .] [footnote : according to mr. isaac taylor, the name is really derived from "st. celert, a welsh saint of the fifth century, to whom the church of llangeller is consecrated." (words and places, p. .)] [footnote : compare krilof's story of the gnat and the shepherd, in mr. ralston's excellent version, krilof and his fables, p. . many parallel examples are cited by mr. baring-gould, curious myths, vol. i. pp. - . see also the story of folliculus,--swan, gesta romanorum, ad. wright, vol. i. p. lxxxii] [footnote : see cox, mythology of the aryan nations, vol. i. pp. - .] [footnote : the same incident occurs in the arabian story of seyf-el-mulook and bedeea-el-jemal, where the jinni's soul is enclosed in the crop of a sparrow, and the sparrow imprisoned in a small box, and this enclosed in another small box, and this again in seven other boxes, which are put into seven chests, contained in a coffer of marble, which is sunk in the ocean that surrounds the world. seyf-el-mulook raises the coffer by the aid of suleyman's seal-ring, and having extricated the sparrow, strangles it, whereupon the jinni's body is converted into a heap of black ashes, and seyf-el-mulook escapes with the maiden dolet-khatoon. see lane's arabian nights, vol. iii. p. .] [footnote : the same incident is repeated in the story of hassan of el-basrah. see lane's arabian nights, vol. iii p. .] [footnote : "retrancher le merveilleux d'un mythe, c'est le supprimer."--breal, hercule et cacus, p. .] [footnote : "no distinction between the animate and inanimate is made in the languages of the eskimos, the choctaws, the muskoghee, and the caddo. only the iroquois, cherokee, and the algonquin-lenape have it, so far as is known, and with them it is partial." according to the fijians, "vegetables and stones, nay, even tools and weapons, pots and canoes, have souls that are immortal, and that, like the souls of men, pass on at last to mbulu, the abode of departed spirits."--m'lennan, the worship of animals and plants, fortnightly review, vol. xii. p, .] [footnote : marcus aurelius, v. .] [footnote : some of these etymologies are attacked by mr. mahaffy in his prolegomena to ancient history, p. . after long consideration i am still disposed to follow max muller in adopting them, with the possible exception of achilleus. with mr. mahaffy s suggestion (p. ) that many of the homeric legends may have clustered around some historical basis, i fully agree; as will appear, further on, from my paper on "juventus mundi."] [footnote : les facultes qui engendrent la mythologie sont les memes que celles qui engendront la philosophie, et ce n'est pas sans raison que l'inde et la grece nous presentent le phenomene de la plus riche mythologie a cote de la plus profonde metaphysique. "la conception de la multiplicite dans l'univers, c'est le polytheisme chez les peuples enfants; c'est la science chez les peuples arrives a l'age mur."--renan, hist. des langues semitiques, tom. i. p. .] [footnote : cases coming under this head are discussed further on, in my paper on "myths of the barbaric world."] [footnote : a collection of these interesting legends may be found in baring-gould's "curious myths of the middle ages," of which work this paper was originally a review.] [footnote : see procopius, de bello gothico, iv. ; villemarque, barzas breiz, i. . as a child i was instructed by an old nurse that vas diemen's land is the home of ghosts and departed spirits.] [footnote : baring-gould, curious myths, vol. i. p. .] [footnote : hence perhaps the adage, "always remember to pay the piper."] [footnote : and it reappears as the mysterious lyre of the gaelic musician, who "could harp a fish out o' the water, or bluid out of a stane, or milk out of a maiden's breast, that bairns had never nane."] [footnote : baring-gould, curious myths, vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : perhaps we may trace back to this source the frantic terror which irish servant-girls often manifest at sight of a mouse.] [footnote : in persia a dog is brought to the bedside of the person who is dying, in order that the soul may be sure of a prompt escort. the same custom exists in india. breal, hercule et cacus, p. .] [footnote : the devil, who is proverbially "active in a gale of wind," is none other than hermes.] [footnote : "il faut que la coeur devienne ancien parmi les aneiennes choses, et la plenitude de l'histoire ne se devoile qu'a celui qui descend, ainsi dispose, dans le passe. mais il faut que l'esprit demeure moderne, et n'oublie jamais qu'il n'y a pour lui d'autre foi que la foi scientifique."--littrs.] [footnote : for an admirable example of scientific self-analysis tracing one of these illusions to its psychological sources, see the account of dr. lazarus, in taine, de l'intelligence, vol. i. pp. - .] [footnote : see the story of aymar in baring-gould, curious myths, vol. i. pp. - . the learned author attributes the discomfiture to the uncongenial parisian environment; which is a style of reasoning much like that of my village sorcerer, i fear.] [footnote : kelly, indo-european folk-lore, p. .] [footnote : the story of the luck-flower is well told in verse by mr. baring gould, in his silver store, p. , seq.] [footnote : kings vi. .] [footnote : compare the mussulman account of the building of the temple, in baring-gould, legends of the patriarchs and prophets, pp. , . and see the story of diocletian's ostrich, swan, gesta romanorum, ed. wright, vol i. p. lxiv. see also the pretty story of the knight unjustly imprisoned, id. p. cii.] [footnote : "we have the receipt of fern-seed. we walk invisible." --shakespeare, henry iv. see ralston, songs of the russian people, p. ] [footnote : henderson, folk-lore of the northern counties of england, p. ] [footnote : kuhn, die herabkunft des feuers und des gottertranks. berlin, .] [footnote : "saga me forwhan byth seo sunne read on aefen? ic the secge, forthon heo locath on helle.--tell me, why is the sun red at even? i tell thee, because she looketh on hell." thorpe, analecta anglo-saxonica, p. , apud tylor, primitive culture, vol. ii. p. . barbaric thought had partly anticipated my childish theory.] [footnote : "still in north germany does the peasant say of thunder, that the angels are playing skittles aloft, and of the snow, that they are shaking up the feather beds in heaven."--baring-gould, book of werewolves, p. .] [footnote : "the polynesians imagine that the sky descends at the horizon and encloses the earth. hence they call foreigners papalangi, or 'heaven-bursters,' as having broken in from another world outside."--max muller, chips, ii. .] [footnote : "--and said the gods, let there be a hammered plate in the midst of the waters, and let it be dividing between waters and waters." genesis i. .] [footnote : genesis vii. .] [footnote : see kelly, indo-european folk-lore, p ; who states also that in bengal the garrows burn their dead in a small boat, placed on top of the funeral-pile. in their character of cows, also, the clouds were regarded as psychopomps; and hence it is still a popular superstition that a cow breaking into the yard foretokens a death in the family.] [footnote : the sun-god freyr had a cloud-ship called skithblathnir, which is thus described in dasent's prose edda: "she is so great, that all the aesir, with their weapons and war-gear, may find room on board her"; but "when there is no need of faring on the sea in her, she is made.... with so much craft that freyr may fold her together like a cloth, and keep her in his bag." this same virtue was possessed by the fairy pavilion which the peri banou gave to ahmed; the cloud which is no bigger than a man's hand may soon overspread the whole heaven, and shade the sultan's army from the solar rays.] [footnote : euhemerism has done its best with this bird, representing it as an immense vulture or condor or as a reminiscence of the extinct dodo. but a chinese myth, cited by klaproth, well preserves its true character when it describes it as "a bird which in flying obscures the sun, and of whose quills are made water-tuns." see nouveau journal asiatique, tom. xii. p. . the big bird in the norse tale of the "blue belt" belongs to the same species.] [footnote : baring-gould, curious myths, vol. ii. p. . compare tylor, primitive culture, vol. ii. p. , seq.] [footnote : "if polyphemos's eye be the sun, then odysseus, the solar hero, extinguishes himself, a very primitive instance of suicide." mahaffy, prolegomena, p. . see also brown, poseidon, pp. , . this objection would be relevant only in case homer were supposed to be constructing an allegory with entire knowledge of its meaning. it has no validity whatever when we recollect that homer could have known nothing of the incongruity.] [footnote : the sanskrit myth-teller indeed mixes up his materials in a way which seems ludicrous to a western reader. he describes indra (the sun-god) as not only cleaving the cloud-mountains with his sword, but also cutting off their wings and hurling them from the sky. see burnouf, bhagavata purana, vi. , .] [footnote : mr. tylor offers a different, and possibly a better, explanation of the symplegades as the gates of night through which the solar ship, having passed successfully once, may henceforth pass forever. see the details of the evidence in his primitive culture, i. .] [footnote : the sanskrit parvata, a bulging or inflated body, means both "cloud" and "mountain." "in the edda, too, the rocks, said to have been fashioned out of ymir's bones, are supposed to be intended for clouds. in old norse klakkr means both cloud and rock; nay, the english word cloud itself has been identified with the anglo-saxon clud, rock. see justi, orient und occident, vol. ii. p. ." max muller, rig-veda, vol. . p. .] [footnote : in accordance with the mediaeval "doctrine of signatures," it was maintained "that the hard, stony seeds of the gromwell must be good for gravel, and the knotty tubers of scrophularia for scrofulous glands; while the scaly pappus of scaliosa showed it to be a specific in leprous diseases, the spotted leaves of pulmonaria that it was a sovereign remedy for tuberculous lungs, and the growth of saxifrage in the fissures of rocks that it would disintegrate stone in the bladder." prior, popular names of british plants, introd., p. xiv. see also chapiel, la doctrine des signatures. paris, .] [footnote : indeed, the wish-bone, or forked clavicle of a fowl, itself belongs to the same family of talismans as the divining-rod.] [footnote : the ash, on the other hand, has been from time immemorial used for spears in many parts of the aryan domain. the word oesc meant, in anglo-saxon, indifferently "ash-tree," or "spear"; and the same is, or has been, true of the french fresne and the greek melia. the root of oesc appears in the sanskrit as, "to throw" or "lance," whence asa, "a bow," and asana, "an arrow." see pictet, origines indo-europeennes, i. .] [footnote : compare spenser's story of sir guyon, in the "faery queen," where, however, the knight fares better than this poor priest. usually these lightning-caverns were like ixion's treasure-house, into which none might look and live. this conception is the foundation of part of the story of blue-beard and of the arabian tale of the third one-eyed calender] [footnote : cox, mythology of the aryan nations, vol. . p. .] [footnote : kelly, indo-european folk-lore, pp. , , , .] [footnote : brinton, myths of the new world, p. .] [footnote : callaway, zulu nursery tales, i. , note .] [footnote : tylor, early history of mankind, p. ; primitive culture, vol. ii. p. ; darwin, naturalist's voyage, p. .] [footnote : the production of fire by the drill is often called churning, e. g. "he took the uvati [chark], and sat down and churned it, and kindled a fire." callaway, zulu nursery tales, i. .] [footnote : kelly, indo-european folk-lore, p. . burnouf, bhagavata purana, viii. , .] [footnote : baring-gould, curious myths, p. .] [footnote : it is also the regenerating water of baptism, and the "holy water" of the roman catholic.] [footnote : in the vedas the rain-god soma, originally the personification of the sacrificial ambrosia, is the deity who imparts to men life, knowledge, and happiness. see breal, hercule et cacus, p. . tylor, primitive culture, vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : we may, perhaps, see here the reason for making the greek fire-god hephaistos the husband of aphrodite.] [footnote : "our country maidens are well aware that triple leaves plucked at hazard from the common ash are worn in the breast, for the purpose of causing prophetic dreams respecting a dilatory lover. the leaves of the yellow trefoil are supposed to possess similar virtues."--harland and wilkinson, lancashire folk-lore, p. .] [footnote : in peru, a mighty and far-worshipped deity was catequil, the thunder-god,.... "he who in thunder-flash and clap hurls from his sling the small, round, smooth thunder-stones, treasured in the villages as fire-fetishes and charms to kindle the flames of love."--tylor, op. cit. vol. ii. p. ] [footnote : in polynesia, "the great deity maui adds a new complication to his enigmatic solar-celestial character by appearing as a wind-god."--tylor, op. cit. vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : compare plato, republic, viii. .] [footnote : were-wolf = man-wolf, wer meaning "man." garou is a gallic corruption of werewolf, so that loup-garou is a tautological expression.] [footnote : meyer, in bunsen's philosophy of universal history, vol. i. p. .] [footnote : aimoin, de gestis francorum, ii. .] [footnote : taylor, words and places, p. .] [footnote : very similar to this is the etymological confusion upon which is based the myth of the "confusion of tongues" in the eleventh chapter of genesis. the name "babel" is really bab-il, or "the gate of god"; but the hebrew writer erroneously derives the word from the root balal, "to confuse"; and hence arises the mythical explanation,--that babel was a place where human speech became confused. see rawlinson, in smith's dictionary of the bible, vol. i. p. ; renan, histoire des langues semitiques, vol. i. p. ; donaldson, new cratylus, p. , note; colenso on the pentateuch, vol. iv. p. .] [footnote : vilg. aen. viii. . with latium compare plat?s, skr. prath (to spread out), eng. flat. ferrar, comparative grammar of greek, latin, and sanskrit, vol. i. p. .] [footnote : m`lennan, "the worship of animals and plants," fortnightly review, n. s. vol. vi. pp. - , - , vol. vii. pp - ; spencer, "the origin of animal worship," id. vol. vii. pp. - , reprinted in his recent discussions in science, etc., pp. - .] [footnote : thus is explained the singular conduct of the hindu, who slays himself before his enemy's door, in order to acquire greater power of injuring him. "a certain brahman, on whose lands a kshatriya raja had built a house, ripped himself up in revenge, and became a demon of the kind called brahmadasyu, who has been ever since the terror of the whole country, and is the most common village-deity in kharakpur. toward the close of the last century there were two brahmans, out of whose house a man had wrongfully, as they thought, taken forty rupees; whereupon one of the brahmans proceeded to cut off his own mother's head, with the professed view, entertained by both mother and son, that her spirit, excited by the beating of a large drum during forty days might haunt, torment, and pursue to death the taker of their money and those concerned with him." tylor, primitive culture, vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : hence, in many parts of europe, it is still customary to open the windows when a person dies, in order that the soul may not be hindered in joining the mystic cavalcade.] [footnote : the story of little red riding-hood is "mutilated in the english version, but known more perfectly by old wives in germany, who can tell that the lovely little maid in her shining red satin cloak was swallowed with her grandmother by the wolf, till they both came out safe and sound when the hunter cut open the sleeping beast." tylor, primitive culture, i. , where also see the kindred russian story of vasilissa the beautiful. compare the case of tom thumb, who "was swallowed by the cow and came out unhurt"; the story of saktideva swallowed by the fish and cut out again, in somadeva bhatta, ii. - ; and the story of jonah swallowed by the whale, in the old testament. all these are different versions of the same myth, and refer to the alternate swallowing up and casting forth of day by night, which is commonly personified as a wolf, and now and then as a great fish. compare grimm's story of the wolf and seven kids, tylor, loc. cit., and see early history of mankind, p. ; hardy, manual of budhism, p. .] [footnote : baring-gould, book of werewolves, p. ; muir, sanskrit texts, ii. .] [footnote : in those days even an after-dinner nap seems to have been thought uncanny. see dasent, burnt njal, i. xxi.] [footnote : see dasent, burnt njai, vol. i. p. xxii.; grettis saga, by magnusson and morris, chap. xix.; viga glum's saga, by sir edmund head, p. , note, where the berserkers are said to have maddened themselves with drugs. dasent compares them with the malays, who work themselves into a frenzy by means of arrack, or hasheesh, and run amuck.] [footnote : baring-gould, werewolves, p. .] [footnote : baring-gould, op. cit. chap. xiv.] [footnote : baring-gould, op. cit. p. .] [footnote : kennedy, fictions of the irish celts, p. .] [footnote : "en , a padoue, dit wier, un homme qui se croyait change en loup courait la campagne, attaquant et mettant a mort ceux qu'il rencontrait. apres bien des difficultes, on parvint s'emparer de lui. il dit en confidence a ceux qui l'arreterent: je suis vraiment un loup, et si ma peau ne parait pas etre celle d'un loup, c'est parce qu'elle est retournee et que les poils sont en dedans.--pour s'assurer du fait, on coupa le malheureux aux differentes parties du corps, on lui emporta les bras et les jambes."--taine, de l'intelligence, tom. ii. p. . see the account of slavonic werewolves in ralston, songs of the russian people, pp. - .] [footnote : mr. cox, whose scepticism on obscure points in history rather surpasses that of sir g. c. lewis, dismisses with a sneer the subject of the berserker madness, observing that "the unanimous testimony of the norse historians is worth as much and as little as the convictions of glanvil and hale on the reality of witchcraft." i have not the special knowledge requisite for pronouncing an opinion on this point, but mr. cox's ordinary methods of disposing of such questions are not such as to make one feel obliged to accept his bare assertion, unaccompanied by critical arguments. the madness of the bearsarks may, no doubt, be the same thing us the frenzy of herakles; but something more than mere dogmatism is needed to prove it.] [footnote : williams, superstitions of witchcraft, p. . see a parallel case of a cat-woman, in thorpe's northern mythology, ii. . "certain witches at thurso for a long time tormented an honest fellow under the usual form of cats, till one night he put them to flight with his broadsword, and cut off the leg of one less nimble than the rest; taking it up, to his amazement he found it to be a woman's leg, and next morning he discovered the old hag its owner with but one leg left."--tylor, primitive culture, i. .] [footnote : "the mare in nightmare means spirit, elf, or nymph; compare anglo-saxon wudurmaere (wood-mare) = echo."--tylor, primitive culture, vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : see kuhn, herabkunft des feuers, p. ; weber, indische studien. i. ; wolf, beitrage zur deutschen mythologie, ii. - muller, chips, ii. - .] [footnote : baring-gould, curious myths, ii. .] [footnote : the word nymph itself means "cloud-maiden," as is illustrated by the kinship between the greek numph and the latin nubes.] [footnote : this is substantially identical with the stories of beauty and the beast, eros and psyche, gandharba sena, etc.] [footnote : the feather-dress reappears in the arabian story of hasssn of el-basrah, who by stealing it secures possession of the jinniya. see lane's arabian nights, vol. iii. p. . ralston, songs of the russian people, p. .] [footnote : thorpe, northern mythology, iii. ; kennedy, fictions of the irish celts, p. .] [footnote : kennedy, fictions of the irish celts, p. .] [footnote : baring-gould, book of werewolves, p. .] [footnote : muir's sanskrit texts, vol. iv. p. ; muller, rig-veda sanhita, vol. i. pp. - ; fick, woerterbuch der indogermanischen grundsprache, p. , s v. bhaga.] [footnote : in the north american review, october, , p. , i have collected a number of facts which seem to me to prove beyond question that the name god is derived from guodan, the original form of odin, the supreme deity of our pagan forefathers. the case is exactly parallel to that of the french dieu, which is descended from the deus of the pagan roman.] [footnote : see pott, die zigeuner, ii. ; kuhn, beitrage, i. . yet in the worship of dewel by the gypsies is to be found the element of diabolism invariably present in barbaric worship. "dewel, the great god in heaven (dewa, deus), is rather feared than loved by these weather-beaten outcasts, for he harms them on their wanderings with his thunder and lightning, his snow and rain, and his stars interfere with their dark doings. therefore they curse him foully when misfortune falls on them; and when a child dies, they say that dewel has eaten it." tylor, primitive culture, vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : see grimm, deutsche mythologie, .] [footnote : the buddhistic as well as the zarathustrian reformation degraded the vedic gods into demons. "in buddhism we find these ancient devas, indra and the rest, carried about at shows, as servants of buddha, as goblins, or fabulous heroes." max muller, chips, i. . this is like the christian change of odin into an ogre, and of thor into the devil.] [footnote : zeus--dia--zhna--di on............ plato kratylos, p. , a., with stallbaum's note. see also proklos, comm. ad timaeum, ii. p. , schneider; and compare pseudo-aristotle, de mundo, p. , a, , who adopts the etymology. see also diogenes laertius, vii. .] [footnote : marcus aurelius, v. ; hom. iliad, xii. , cf. petronius arbiter, sat. xliv.] [footnote : "il sol, dell aurea luce eterno forte." tasso, gerusalemme, xv. ; ef. dante, paradiso, x. .] [footnote : the aryans were, however, doubtless better off than the tribes of north america. "in no indian language could the early missionaries find a word to express the idea of god. manitou and oki meant anything endowed with supernatural powers, from a snake-skin or a greasy indian conjurer up to manabozho and jouskeha. the priests were forced to use a circumlocution,--`the great chief of men,' or 'he who lives in the sky.'" parkman, jesuits in north america, p. lxxix. "the algonquins used no oaths, for their language supplied none; doubtless because their mythology had no beings sufficiently distinct to swear by." ibid, p. .] [footnote : muller, rig-veda-sanhita, i. .] [footnote : compare the remarks of breal, hercule et cacus, p. .] [footnote : it should be borne in mind, however, that one of the women who tempt odysseus is not a dawn-maiden, but a goddess of darkness; kalypso answers to venus-ursula in the myth of tannhauser. kirke, on the other hand, seems to be a dawn-maiden, like medeia, whom she resembles. in her the wisdom of the dawn-goddess athene, the loftiest of greek divinities, becomes degraded into the art of an enchantress. she reappears, in the arabian nights, as the wicked queen labe, whose sorcery none of her lovers can baffle, save beder, king of persia.] [footnote : the persian cyrus is an historical personage; but the story of his perils in infancy belongs to solar mythology as much as the stories of the magic sleep of charlemagne and barbarossa. his grandfather, astyages, is purely a mythical creation, his name being identical with that of the night-demon, azidahaka, who appears in the shah-nameh as the biting serpent zohak. see cox, mythology of the aryan nations, ii. .] [footnote : in mediaeval legend this resistless moira is transformed into the curse which prevents the wandering jew from resting until the day of judgment.] [footnote : cox, manual of mythology, p. .] [footnote : in his interesting appendix to henderson's folk lore of the northern counties of england, mr. baring-gould has made an ingenious and praiseworthy attempt to reduce the entire existing mass of household legends to about fifty story-roots; and his list, though both redundant and defective, is nevertheless, as an empirical classification, very instructive.] [footnote : there is nothing in common between the names hercules and herakles. the latter is a compound, formed like themistokles; the former is a simple derivative from the root of hercere, "to enclose." if herakles had any equivalent in latin, it would necessarily begin with s, and not with h, as septa corresponds to epta, sequor to epomai, etc. it should be noted, however, that mommsen, in the fourth edition of his history, abandons this view, and observes: "auch der griechische herakles ist fruh als herclus, hercoles, hercules in italien einheimisch und dort in eigenthumlicher weise aufgefasst worden, wie es scheint zunachst als gott des gewagten gewinns und der ausserordentlichen vermogensvermehrung." romische geschichte, i. . one would gladly learn mommsen's reasons for recurring to this apparently less defensible opinion.] [footnote : for the relations between sancus and herakles, see preller, romische mythologie, p. ; vollmer, mythologie, p. .] [footnote : burnouf, bhagavata-purana, iii. p. lxxxvi; breal, op. cit. p. .] [footnote : max muller, science of language, ii .] [footnote : as max muller observes, "apart from all mythological considerations, sarama in sanskrit is the same word as helena in greek." op. cit. p. . the names correspond phonetically letter for letter, as, surya corresponds to helios, sarameyas to hermeias, and aharyu to achilleus. muller has plausibly suggested that paris similarly answers to the panis.] [footnote : "i create evil," isaiah xiv. ; "shall there be evil in the city, and the lord hath not done it?" amos iii. ; cf. iliad, xxiv. , and contrast samuel xxiv. with chronicles xxi. .] [footnote : nor is there any ground for believing that the serpent in the eden myth is intended for satan. the identification is entirely the work of modern dogmatic theology, and is due, naturally enough, to the habit, so common alike among theologians and laymen, of reasoning about the bible as if it were a single book, and not a collection of writings of different ages and of very different degrees of historic authenticity. in a future work, entitled "aryana vaedjo," i hope to examine, at considerable length, this interesting myth of the garden of eden.] [footnote : for further particulars see cox, mythology of the aryan nations, vol. ii. pp , ; to which i am indebted for several of the details here given. compare welcker, griechische gotterlehre, i. , seq.] [footnote : many amusing passages from scotch theologians are cited in buckle's history of civilization, vol. ii. p. . the same belief is implied in the quaint monkish tale of "celestinus and the miller's horse." see tales from the gesta romanorum, p. .] [footnote : thorpe, northern mythology, vol. . p. .] [footnote : thorpe, northern mythology, vol. ii. p. . in the norse story of "not a pin to choose between them," the old woman is in doubt as to her own identity, on waking up after the butcher has dipped her in a tar-barrel and rolled her on a heap of feathers; and when tray barks at her, her perplexity is as great as the devil's when fooled by the frenschutz. see dasent, norse tales, p. .] [footnote : see deulin, contes d'un buveur de biere, pp. - .] [footnote : dasent, popular tales from the norse, no. iii. and no. xlii.] [footnote : see dasent's introduction, p. cxxxix; campbell, tales of the west highlands, vol. iv. p. ; and williams, indian epic poetry, p. .] [footnote : "a leopard was returning home from hunting on one occasion, when he lighted on the kraal of a ram. now the leopard had never seen a ram before, and accordingly, approaching submissively, he said, 'good day, friend! what may your name be?' the other, in his gruff voice, and striking his breast with his forefoot, said, 'i am a ram; who are you?' 'a leopard,' answered the other, more dead than alive; and then, taking leave of the ram, he ran home as fast as he could." bleek, hottentot fables, p. .] [footnote : i agree, most heartily, with mr. mahaffy's remarks, prolegomena to ancient history, p. .] [footnote : sir george grey once told some australian natives about the countries within the arctic circle where during part of the year the sun never sets. "their astonishment now knew no bounds. 'ah! that must be another sun, not the same as the one we see here,' said an old man; and in spite of all my arguments to the contrary, the others adopted this opinion." grey's journals, i. , cited in tylor, early history of mankind, p. .] [footnote : max muller, chips, ii. .] [footnote : fictions of the irish celts, pp. - .] [footnote : a corruption of gaelic bhan a teaigh, "lady of the house."] [footnote : for the analysis of twelve, see my essay on "the genesis of language," north american review, october , p. .] [footnote : chips from a german workshop, vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : for various legends of a deluge, see baring-gould, legends of the patriarchs and prophets, pp. - .] [footnote : brinton, myths of the new world, p. .] [footnote : brinton, op. cit. p. .] [footnote : brinton, op. cit. p. .] [footnote : corresponding, in various degrees, to the asvins, the dioskouroi, and the brothers true and untrue of norse mythology.] [footnote : see humboldt's kosmos, tom. iii. pp. - . a fetichistic regard for the cardinal points has not always been absent from the minds of persons instructed in a higher theology as witness a well-known passage in irenaeus, and also the custom, well-nigh universal in europe, of building christian churches in a line east and west.] [footnote : bleek, hottentot fables and tales, p. . compare the fiji story of ra vula, the moon, and ra kalavo, the rat, in tylor, primitive culture, i. .] [footnote : tylor, early history of mankind, p. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit., p. .] [footnote : baring-gould, curious myths, ii. - .] [footnote : speaking of beliefs in the malay archipelago, mr. wallace says: "it is universally believed in lombock that some men have the power to turn themselves into crocodiles, which they do for the sake of devouring their enemies, and many strange tales are told of such transformations." wallace, malay archipelago, vol. i. p. .] [footnote : bleek, hottentot fables and tales, p. .] [footnote : callaway, zulu nursery tales, pp. - .] [footnote : callaway, op. cit. pp. - ; cf. a similar story in which the lion is fooled by the jackal. bleek, op. cit. p. . i omit the sequel of the tale.] [footnote : brinton, op. cit. p. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. p. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. pp. - .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. p. . november, ] [footnote : juventus mundi. the gods and men of the heroic age. by the rt. hon. william ewart gladstone. boston: little, brown, & co. .] [footnote : hist. greece, vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : grote, hist. greece, vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : for the precise extent to which i would indorse the theory that the iliad-myth is an account of the victory of light over darkness, let me refer to what i have said above on p. . i do not suppose that the struggle between light and darkness was homer's subject in the iliad any more than it was shakespeare's subject in "hamlet." homer's subject was the wrath of the greek hero, as shakespeare's subject was the vengeance of the danish prince. nevertheless, the story of hamlet, when traced back to its norse original, is unmistakably the story of the quarrel between summer and winter; and the moody prince is as much a solar hero as odin himself. see simrock, die quellen des shakespeare, i. - . of course shakespeare knew nothing of this, as homer knew nothing of the origin of his achilleus. the two stories, therefore, are not to be taken as sun-myths in their present form. they are the offspring of other stories which were sun-myths; they are stories which conform to the sun-myth type after the manner above illustrated in the paper on light and darkness. [hence there is nothing unintelligible in the inconsistency--which seems to puzzle max muller (science of language, th ed. vol. ii. p. , note )--of investing paris with many of the characteristics of the children of light. supposing, as we must, that the primitive sense of the iliad-myth had as entirely disappeared in the homeric age, as the primitive sense of the hamlet-myth had disappeared in the times of elizabeth, the fit ground for wonder is that such inconsistencies are not more numerous.] the physical theory of myths will be properly presented and comprehended, only when it is understood that we accept the physical derivation of such stories as the iliad-myth in much the same way that we are bound to accept the physical etymologies of such words as soul, consider, truth, convince, deliberate, and the like. the late dr. gibbs of yale college, in his "philological studies,"--a little book which i used to read with delight when a boy,--describes such etymologies as "faded metaphors." in similar wise, while refraining from characterizing the iliad or the tragedy of hamlet--any more than i would characterize le juif errant by sue, or la maison forestiere by erckmann-chatrian--as nature-myths, i would at the same time consider these poems well described as embodying "faded nature-myths."] [footnote : i have no opinion as to the nationality of the earth-shaker, and, regarding the etymology of his name, i believe we can hardly do better than acknowledge, with mr. cox, that it is unknown. it may well be doubted, however, whether much good is likely to come of comparisons between poseidon, dagon, oannes, and noah, or of distinctions between the children of shem and the children of ham. see brown's poseidon; a link between semite, hamite, and aryan, london, ,--a book which is open to several of the criticisms here directed against mr. gladstone's manner of theorizing.] [footnote : "the expression that the erinys, saranyu, the dawn, finds out the criminal, was originally quite free from mythology; it meant no more than that crime would be brought to light some day or other. it became mythological, however, as soon as the etymological meaning of erinys was forgotten, and as soon as the dawn, a portion of time, assumed the rank of a personal being."--science of language, th edition, ii. . this paragraph, in which the italicizing is mine, contains max muller's theory in a nutshell. it seems to me wholly at variance with the facts of history. the facts concerning primitive culture which are to be cited in this paper will show that the case is just the other way. instead of the expression "erinys finds the criminal" being originally a metaphor, it was originally a literal statement of what was believed to be fact. the dawn (not "a portion of time,"(!) but the rosy flush of the morning sky) was originally regarded as a real person. primitive men, strictly speaking, do not talk in metaphors; they believe in the literal truth of their similes and personifications, from which, by survival in culture, our poetic metaphors are lineally descended. homer's allusion to a rolling stone as essumenos or "yearning" (to keep on rolling), is to us a mere figurative expression; but to the savage it is the description of a fact.] [footnote : primitive culture: researches into the development of mythology, philosophy, religion, art, and custom by edward b. tylor. vols. vo. london. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. i. .] [footnote : rousseau, confessions, i. vi. for further illustration, see especially the note on the "doctrine of signatures," supra, p. .] [footnote : spencer, recent discussions in science, etc., p. , "the origin of animal worship."] [footnote : see nature, vol. vi. p. , august , . the circumstances narrated are such as to exclude the supposition that the sitting up is intended to attract the master's attention. the dog has frequently been seen trying to soften the heart of the ball, while observed unawares by his master.] [footnote : "we would, however, commend to mr. fiske's attention mr. mark twain's dog, who 'couldn't be depended on for a special providence,' as being nearer to the actual dog of every-day life than is the skye terrier mentioned by a certain correspondent of nature, to whose letter mr. fiske refers. the terrier is held to have had 'a few fetichistic notions,' because he was found standing up on his hind legs in front of a mantel-piece, upon which lay an india-rubber ball with which he wished to play, but which he could not reach, and which, says the letter-writer, he was evidently beseeching to come down and play with him. we consider it more reasonable to suppose that a dog who had been drilled into a belief that standing upon his hind legs was very pleasing to his master, and who, therefore, had accustomed himself to stand on his hind legs whenever he desired anything, and whose usual way of getting what he desired was to induce somebody to get it for him, may have stood up in front of the mantel-piece rather from force of habit and eagerness of desire than because he had any fetichistic notions, or expected the india-rubber ball to listen to his supplications. we admit, however, to avoid polemical controversy, that in matter of religion the dog is capable of anything." the nation, vol. xv. p. , october , . to be sure, i do not know for certain what was going on in the dog's mind; and so, letting both explanations stand, i will only add another fact of similar import. "the tendency in savages to imagine that natural objects and agencies are animated by spiritual or living essences is perhaps illustrated by a little fact which i once noticed: my dog, a full-grown and very sensible animal, was lying on the lawn during a hot and still day; but at a little distance a slight breeze occasionally moved an open parasol, which would have been wholly disregarded by the dog, had any one stood near it. as it was, every time that the parasol slightly moved, the dog growled fiercely and barked. he must, i think, have reasoned to himself, in a rapid and unconscious manner, that movement without any apparent cause indicated the presence of some strange living agent, and no stranger had a right to be on his territory." darwin, descent of man, vol. . p. . without insisting upon all the details of this explanation, one may readily grant, i think, that in the dog, as in the savage, there is an undisturbed association between motion and a living motor agency; and that out of a multitude of just such associations common to both, the savage, with his greater generalizing power, frames a truly fetichistic conception.] [footnote : note the fetichism wrapped up in the etymologies of these greek words. catalepsy, katalhyis, a seizing of the body by some spirit or demon, who holds it rigid. ecstasy, ekstasis, a displacement or removal of the soul from the body, into which the demon enters and causes strange laughing, crying, or contortions. it is not metaphor, but the literal belief ill a ghost-world, which has given rise to such words as these, and to such expressions as "a man beside himself or transported."] [footnote : something akin to the savage's belief in the animation of pictures may be seen in young children. i have often been asked by my three-year-old boy, whether the dog in a certain picture would bite him if he were to go near it; and i can remember that, in my own childhood, when reading a book about insects, which had the formidable likeness of a spider stamped on the centre of the cover, i was always uneasy lest my finger should come in contact with the dreaded thing as i held the book.] [footnote : tylor, primitive culture, i. . "the zulus hold that a dead body can cast no shadow, because that appurtenance departed from it at the close of life." hardwick, traditions, superstitions, and folk-lore, p. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. i. .] [footnote : harland and wilkinson, lancashire folk-lore, , p. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. ii. .] [footnote : in russia the souls of the dead are supposed to be embodied in pigeons or crows. "thus when the deacon theodore and his three schismatic brethren were burnt in , the souls of the martyrs, as the 'old believers' affirm, appeared in the air as pigeons. in volhynia dead children are supposed to come back in the spring to their native village under the semblance of swallows and other small birds, and to seek by soft twittering or song to console their sorrowing parents." ralston, songs of the russian people, p. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. i. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. i. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. i. . in the next stage of survival this belief will take the shape that it is wrong to slam a door, no reason being assigned; and in the succeeding stage, when the child asks why it is naughty to slam a door, he will be told, because it is an evidence of bad temper. thus do old-world fancies disappear before the inroads of the practical sense.] [footnote : agassiz, essay on classification, pp. - .] [footnote : figuier, the to-morrow of death, p. .] [footnote : here, as usually, the doctrine of metempsychosis comes in to complete the proof. "mr. darwin saw two malay women in keeling island, who had a wooden spoon dressed in clothes like a doll; this spoon had been carried to the grave of a dead man, and becoming inspired at full moon, in fact lunatic, it danced about convulsively like a table or a hat at a modern spirit-seance." tylor, op. cit. ii. .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. i. - .] [footnote : tylor, op. cit. i. , ; ii. , .] [footnote : according to the karens, blindness occurs when the soul of the eye is eaten by demons. id., ii. .] [footnote : the following citation is interesting as an illustration of the directness of descent from heathen manes-worship to christian saint-worship: "it is well known that romulus, mindful of his own adventurous infancy, became after death a roman deity, propitious to the health and safety of young children, so that nurses and mothers would carry sickly infants to present them in his little round temple at the foot of the palatine. in after ages the temple was replaced by the church of st. theodorus, and there dr. conyers middleton, who drew public attention to its curious history, used to look in and see ten or a dozen women, each with a sick child in her lap, sitting in silent reverence before the altar of the saint. the ceremony of blessing children, especially after vaccination, may still be seen there on thursday mornings." op. cit. ii. .] [footnote : want of space prevents me from remarking at length upon mr. tylor's admirable treatment of the phenomena of oracular inspiration. attention should be called, however, to the brilliant explanation of the importance accorded by all religions to the rite of fasting. prolonged abstinence from food tends to bring on a mental state which is favourable to visions. the savage priest or medicine-man qualifies himself for the performance of his duties by fasting, and where this is not sufficient, often uses intoxicating drugs; whence the sacredness of the hasheesh, as also of the vedic soma-juice. the practice of fasting among civilized peoples is an instance of survival.] the evil eye thanatology _and other essays_ roswell park, m. d., ll.d. (yale) [illustration: man operating fruit press "arti et veritati"] richard g. badger the gorham press boston copyright, , by richard g. badger all rights reserved the gorham press, boston, u. s. a. to sir william osler, m. d., ll.d., f. r. c. p., etc. regius professor of medicine, oxford university. ideal scholar and friend. preface responsibility for the following collection of essays and addresses (occasional papers) rests perhaps not more with their writer, who was not unwilling to see them presented in a single volume, than with those of his friends who were complimentary enough to urge their assemblage and publication in this shape. they partake of the character of studies in that borderland of anthropology, biology, philology and history which surrounds the immediate domain of medical and general science. this ever offers a standing invitation and an enduring fascination for those who will but raise their eyes from the fertile and arable soil in which they concentrate their most arduous labors. too close confinement in this field may result in greater commercial yield, but the fragrance of the clover detracts not at all from the value of the hay, nor do borderland studies result otherwise than in enlargement of the boundaries of one's storm center of work. no strictly technical nor professional papers have been reprinted herein, while several of those which appear do so for the first time. buffalo, december, . contents chapter page i the evil eye ii thanatology iii serpent-myths and serpent worship iv iatro-theurgic symbolism v the relation of the grecian mysteries to the foundation of christianity vi the knights hospitaller of st. john of jerusalem vii giordano bruno viii student life in the middle ages ix a study of medical words, deeds and men x the career of the army surgeon xi the evolution of the surgeon from the barber xii the story of the discovery of the circulation xiii history of anaesthesia and the introduction of anaesthetics in surgery i the evil eye[ ] [ ] a presidential address before the buffalo society of natural sciences. belief in magic has been called by tylor, one of the greatest authorities on the occult sciences, "one of the most pernicious delusions that ever vexed mankind." it has been at all times among credulous and superstitious people made the tool of envy, which bacon well described as the vilest and most depraved of all feelings. bacon, moreover, singled out love and envy as the only two affections which have been noted to fascinate, or bewitch, since they both have "vehement wishes, frame themselves readily into imaginations and suggestions and come easily into the eye." he also noted the fact that in the scriptures envy was called the evil eye. it is to this interesting subject in anthropological and folk-lore study, namely, the evil eye, that i wish to invite your attention for a time. belief in it is, of course, inseparable from credence in a personal devil or some personal evil and malign influence, but in modern times and among people who are supposed to be civilized has been regarded ordinarily as an attribute of the devil. consideration of the subject is inseparable, too, from a study of the expressions "to fascinate" and "to bewitch." indeed this word "fascination" has a peculiar etymological interest. it seems to be a latin form of the older greek verb "_baskanein_," or else to be descended from a common root. no matter what its modern signification, originally it meant to bewitch or to subject to an evil influence, particularly by means of eyes or tongue or by casting of spells. later it came to mean the influencing of the imagination, reason or will in an uncontrollable manner, and now, as generally used, means to captivate or to allure. its use in our language is of itself an indication of the superstition so generally prevalent centuries ago. it is, however, rather a polite term for which we have the more vulgar equivalent "to bewitch," used in a signification much more like the original meaning. belief in an evil power constantly at work has existed from absolutely prehistoric times. it has been more or less tacitly adopted and sanctioned by various creeds or religious beliefs, particularly so by the church of rome, by mediaeval writers and by writers on occult science. even now it exists not only among savage nations but everywhere among common people. we to-day may call it superstition, but there was a time when it held enormous sway over mankind, and exercised a tremendous influence. in its present form it consists often of a belief that certain individuals possess a blighting power, and the expression in england to "overlook" is not only very common, but an easily recognizable persistence of the old notion. evidently st. paul shared this prevalent belief when he rebuked the foolish galatians, saying as in our common translation, "who hath bewitched you that ye should not obey the truth?" in the vulgate the word translated "bewitch" is "_fascinare_," exactly the same word as used by virgil, and referring to the influence of the evil eye. cicero himself discussed the word "fascination," and he explained the latin verb _invidere_ and noun _invidia_ as meaning to look closely at; whence comes our word envy, or evil eye. all the ancients believed that from the eyes of envious or angry people there was projected some malign influence which could infect the air and penetrate and corrupt both living creatures and inanimate objects. woyciki, in his polish folk-lore, relates the story of a most unhappy slav, who though possessed of a most loving heart realized that he was afflicted with the evil eye, and at last blinded himself in order that he might not cast a spell over his children. even to-day, among the scotch highlanders, if a stranger look too admiringly at a cow the people believe that she will waste away of the evil eye, and they give him of her milk to drink in order to break the spell. plutarch was sure that certain men's eyes were destructive to infants and young animals, and he believed that the thebans could thus destroy not only the young but strong men. the classical writers are so full of allusions to this subject that it is easy to see where people during the middle ages got their prevalent belief in witches. thus, pliny said that those possessed of the evil eye would not sink in water, even if weighed down with clothes; hence the mediaeval ordeal by water;--which had, however, its inconveniences for the innocent, for if the reputed witch sank he evidently was not guilty, but if he floated he was counted guilty and then burned. not only was this effect supposed to be produced by the fascinating eye, but even by the voice, which, some asserted, could blast trees, kill children and destroy animals. in pliny's time special laws were enacted against injury to crops by incantation or fascination; but the romans went even farther than this, and believed that their gods were envious of each other and cast their evil eyes upon the less powerful of their own circle; hence the _caduceus_ which mercury always carried as a protection. to be the reputed possessor of an evil eye was an exceeding great misfortune. solomon lent himself to the belief when he enjoined, "eat thou not the bread of him that hath an evil eye." (prov. : ). the most inconvenient country in which to have this reputation to-day is italy, and especially in naples. the italians apply the term _jettatore_ to the individual thus suspected, and to raise the cry of "_jettatore_" in a neapolitan crowd even to-day is to cause a speedy stampede. for the italians the worst of all is the "_jettatore di bambini_," or the fascinator of infants. elworthy relates the case of a gentleman who on three occasions acted in naples in the capacity of sponsor; singularly all three children died, whereupon he at once got the reputation of having the "_malocchio_" to such an extent that mothers would take all sorts of precautions to keep their children out of his sight. the great bacon lent himself also to the belief to such an extent as to advise the carrying on one's person of certain articles, such as rue, or a wolf's tail or even an onion, by which the evil influence was supposed to be averted. a most interesting work was written by valletta and published in naples in . it was practically a treatise upon fascination and the jettatore. valletta himself was a profound believer in all this sort of thing, and finished up his work by offering rewards for answers to certain questions, among which were the following:--"which jettatore is most powerful, he who has or he who has not a wig? whether monks are more powerful than others? to what distance does the influence of the jettatore extend, and whether it operates more to the side, front or back? what words in general ought one to repeat to escape the evil eye?" in ancient times it was believed that women had greater power of fascination then men, a belief to which our sex still hold at the present day, although in modern times the evil eye proper is supposed to be possessed by men rather than by women; monks especially, ever since the establishment of religious orders, being considered to possess this fatal influence. curiously enough, the late pope, pius ix, was supposed to be a most pronounced jettatore, and the most devout catholics would point two fingers at him even while receiving his blessing. let me quote elworthy in this connection:--"ask a roman about the late pope's evil eye, and he will answer, 'they say so, and it really seems to be true. if he had not the jettatura it is very odd that everything he blessed made fiasco. we did very well in the campaign against the austrians in ' ; we were winning battle after battle and all was gayety and hope, when suddenly he blessed the cause and everything went to the bad at once. nothing succeeds with anybody or anything when he wishes well to them. when he went to s. agnese to hold a great festival down went the floor and the people were all smashed together. then he visited the column to the madonna in the piazza di spagna and blessed it and the workmen. of course one fell from the scaffold the same day and killed himself. he arranged to meet the king of naples at porto d'anzio, when up came a violent gale and storm that lasted a week. another arrangement was made and then came the fracas about the ex-queen of spain.'" the superstition of the evil eye and of witchcraft goes everywhere with the belief in the power of transformation, which at certain periods of history has been so prevalent as to account for many of the stories of ancient mythology, and will account even for such nursery stories as that of little red riding hood, as well as for the old-world belief in the _werewolf_. indeed, a common expression of to-day reminds one of this old belief, since it is a common saying to be ready to "jump out of one's skin for joy." this belief in transformation has begotten an ever-present dread of ill omens which is even now one of the most prevalent of superstitions. in somerset, to see a hare cross the path in front of one is a sign of death. in india they fear to name any sacred or dreaded animal. the black cat is everywhere an object of aversion, and in some parts of england to meet a person who squints is equal to meeting one possessing the evil eye. surely i do not need to remind this audience of the fear which many people have of taking any important action on friday. this fear goes so far in some instances as to lead people to deprecate over-praise or apologize for a too positive statement. your courteous turk will not take a compliment without "mashallah;" the italians will not receive one without "grazio a dio;" while the irishman almost always says "glory be to god," and the english peasant "lord be wi' us;" the idea in every instance being to avert the danger of fascination by these acknowledgments of a higher power. in england during the horrible times when the black death raged it was supposed that the disease was communicated by a glance from the distorted eyes of a sick man. in delrio, a jesuit, published a large six-volume folio work entitled "a disquisition on magic," in which he takes it for granted that the calamities of mortals are the work of evil spirits. he says, "fascination is a power derived by contact with the devil, who, when the so-called fascinator looks at another with evil intent, or praises by means known to himself, infects with evil the person at whom he looks." those familiar with the history of so-called animal magnetism, mesmerism or hypnotism, will see a close connection between these beliefs and the practice of this peculiar form of influence. mesmerism, in fact, as ordinarily practiced, was more or less dependent upon the influence of touch, or actual contact, whose importance has always been by the credulous rated high. in fact, it will be remembered that many of the miracles of the new testament were performed by the aid of touch, and in the old testament it is recorded how disappointed naaman was when he went to be cured of his leprosy in that the prophet did not _touch_ him. the influence of the _royal touch_ for the cure of scrofula, known for centuries as the king's evil, will also not be forgotten. in fact, our word to "bless" signifies to touch by making the sign of the cross on the diseased part, as, for instance, in the west of england, where goitre is rather common, it is believed that the best cure is that the swelling should be touched by the hand of a corpse of the opposite sex. the more we deal with the superstitions now under consideration the more evident it becomes that the principal thought among the simpler peoples, or even among some of the religious sects of to-day, has been the propitiation of angry deities, or of destructive influences, rather than the worship and exaltation of beneficent attributes. as elworthy says, "we find that fear and dread have in all human history been more potent factors in men's conduct than hope and gratitude or love." take for example the propitiatory sacrifices of abel and cain, or the sacrifice which abraham proposed to make of his own son, or the very words which have crept into our language such as _atonement_, etc. with this personification of an evil power or attribute in nature came also belief in transformation, or metamorphosis, of which the greek and roman mythology is full. how many of the christian symbols of to-day, nearly all of which are of pagan origin, convey to the initiated instances of this belief, can hardly be mentioned in this place. suffice it to say that their number is very great. but i find too many temptations to wander from my subject, which is essentially the evil eye. in mediaeval symbolism, as in ancient, the intent often was to represent either on some amulet, charm or picture a figure of the thing against which it was most desired that a protective influence should be exercised, hence the general prevalence of the eye in some pictorial representation. the ancient egyptians, as well as the etruscans, used to paint a huge eye on the bows of their vessels, which was supposed to be a charm against the evil eye. even to-day in the orient i have seen greek boats with eyes painted on either side of their prows. the eye was a common adornment of egyptian pottery, usually in combination with various other pictures, but as a symbol it seems during the past century or two to have passed out of common employ, except perhaps in malta, and among the free-masons, who simply are perpetuating its use. nevertheless, wax or silver eyes are seen hung up in some foreign churches. a curious feature of these superstitions has been this, that any feature of indecency or obscenity when attaching to these symbols, amulets, etc., has been supposed to make them much more potent. this probably was because anything strange or unusual was more likely to attract the eye, and therefore divert its influence from the individual to the inanimate object, hence the prevalence of phallic emblems in connection with these fancied protections. many objects of this kind can be to-day picked up in the jewelry stores of rome and of naples. another of the most efficacious of these amulets takes the general form of a hideous mask, often called the _gorgoneion_. in all probability this was largely for the reason given above--that it was most likely to attract attention. symbols of this kind are in very general use among people who know nothing of the reason therefore. thus, we see them on seals, coins, etc. the gargoyles of mediaeval architecture are frequently given this fantastic appearance and for this same purpose. in roman times the dolphin was a favorite device for a potent charm against the evil eye, and was pictured on many a soldier's shield. ulysses adopted it as his especial choice, both on his signet and his shield, perhaps because it was supposed to have been through the agency of the dolphin that telemachus was saved from drowning. to us in the medical profession it is of no little interest that in rome, according to varro, there stood three temples on the esquiline dedicated to the goddess of fever and one to mephitis. tacitus relates that a temple to mephitis was the only building left standing after the destruction of cremona, where there was also an altar dedicated to the evil eye. we know, also, that in the very centre of the forum there stood an altar to cloacina, the goddess of typhoid. what complete sway this goddess has held from ancient times to the present i need scarcely tell you. "when rome, after the fall of the empire, relapsed into its most insanitary condition this old worship reappeared in another shape, and a chapel arose near the vatican to the _madonna della febre_, the most popular in rome in times of sickness or epidemic." this simply shows a transfer of ideas, the attributes of diana being conveyed over to her christian successor, the virgin, whose cult became equally supreme. the principal symbol of this cult was the horned moon or crescent, and, in consequence, horns in one form or another became the most common of objects as amulets against the evil eye. so comprehensive and persistent is this belief in naples that, in the absence of a horn in some shape, the mere utterance of the name _corno_ was supposed to be an effectual protection. even more than this, the name _un corno_ became applicable to any and every charm or amulet against the evil eye. we may find many references to the horn in scripture, where it served both as an emblem of dignity and as an amulet. most curious it is that the phylactery with which the pharisees adorned their garments, and which called forth the most scathing denunciation by the master, was undoubtedly an emblem of a horn, and worn as an amulet against the evil eye. at the beginning of the christian era it had become fashionable to wear these, and how they were enlarged and made not only badges of sanctity but marks of worldly honor, we may read in the new testament. the horn has been an important feature of christian symbolism, as of pagan, and we constantly see the ram's horn, which was the successor of the bull's horn, made such from economical reasons, all over the ruins of ancient rome. the married women of lebanon wear silver horns upon their heads to distinguish them from the single women. the jewesses of northern africa wear them as a part of their regular costume, and even to-day curious spiral ornaments are worn on either side of the head by the dutch women. in naples horns in all shapes are exceedingly common upon the trappings of the cab horses. indeed the heavy trappings and harness of these overloaded animals are usually protected with a perfect battery of potent charms, so that any evil glance must be fully extinguished before it can light upon the animal itself. thus, we may frequently see upon the backs of these animals two little brazen flags, said to be typical of the flaming sword which turned every way, and which are supposed to be an unfailing attraction to the eye. the high pommel ends usually in a piece of the inevitable wolf's skin, and many colored ribbons or worsteds are wound about portions of the harness in such a way as completely to protect all that it encloses. but the most numerous of all these emblems is a _hand_ in various positions or gestures. probably every other cab horse in naples carries the hand about him in some form. in rome these things are not seen so much on horses' backs, although wolf skins, horns and crescents are common enough, but we see large numbers of silver rings for human fingers, to each of which a little pendant horn is attached. these may be seen in the shop windows strung upon rods and plainly marked _annelli contra la jettatura_. those who have seen naples thoroughly have noted how cows' horns, often painted blue, are fixed against the walls, especially at an angle, about the height of the first floor. but one of the most remarkable amulets which i have ever seen hangs outside one of the entries to the cathedral in seville, where over a door is hung by a chain the tusk of an elephant, and further out, over the same doorway, swung by another chain, an enormous crocodile, sent as a present or charm of special power to alfonso, in , by the sultan of egypt. these two strange charms hang over the doorway of a christian church of to-day, indicating the acceptance by a christian people of a moslem emblem and amulet. again, in rome it is very common to see a small cow's horn on the framework of the roman wine carts or dangling beneath the axle. much more common and better known among the anglo-saxon peoples is the horse-shoe emblem, which with us has lost all of its original signification, as an emblem of fecundity, and has become a charm against evil. it is hung up over doorways, is nailed up in houses, it guards stable doors and protects fields against malign influences. even in the paris exhibition of , where there was a representation of a street from old cairo, there hung over several of the doors a crocodile with a horse-shoe on his snout. so far i have said very little about the positions of the hand and certain gestures by which it is intended to ward off the evil eye. the mohammedans, like the neapolitans, are profound believers in the efficacy of manual signs; thus outside of many a door in tangier i have seen the imprint of a hand made by placing the outstretched hand upon some sticky black or colored material, which was then transferred as by a type or die to the doorway of the dwelling, where in the likeness of the outstretched manus it serves to guard the dwellers within. this is to me one of the most curious things to be observed in mohammedan countries. a relic of the same belief i have seen also over the great gate of the alhambra, in the tower of justice, where, in spite of the very strict moslem custom and belief against representation of any living object, over the keystone of the outer moorish arch is carved an outstretched upright hand, a powerful protection against evil. it is this position of the hand, by the way, which has been observed in all countries in the administration of the judicial oath. moreover, the hand in this position is the modern heraldic sign of baronetcy. the hand in the customary position of benediction is sometimes open and extended, while at other times only the first and second fingers are straightened. the power which the extended hand may exert is well illustrated in the biblical account (exodus : ) "and it came to pass when moses held up his hand that israel prevailed, and when he let down his hand amalek prevailed." and so it happened that when moses wearied of the constrained position his hand was supported by aaron and by hur. this is only one of numerous illustrations in the holy writings showing the talismanic influence of the human hand. there are comparatively few people who realize, to-day, that the conventional attitude of prayer as of benediction, with hands held up, is the old charm as against the evil eye. in one of the great marble columns in the mosque of st. sophia in constantinople there is a remarkable natural freak by which there seems to appear upon the dark marble the white figure of an outspread hand. this is held in the highest reverence by the superstitious populace, who all approach it to pray for protection from the evil eye. the open hand has also been stamped upon many a coin both in ancient and modern times, and the general prevalence of the hand as a form of doorknocker can be seen alike in the ruins of pompeii and the modern dwelling. the hand clenched in various forms has been used in more ways than as a mere signal or sign of defiance. in italy the _mano-fica_ implies contempt or insult rather than defiance. among all the latin races this peculiar gesture of the thumb between the first and second fingers has a significant name and a significant meaning. it is connected everywhere with the fig, and expresses in the most discourteous way that which is implied in our english phrase "don't care a fig." it is in common use as an amulet to be worn from the neck or about the body, and conveys the same meaning as that which the neapolitans frequently express when they say "may the evil eye do you no harm." another position of the hand, namely, that with the index and little fingers extended, while the middle and ring fingers are flexed and clasped by the thumb, gives also the rude imitation of the head of a horned animal, and is frequently spoken of as the _mano cornuta_. a neapolitan's right hand is frequently, in some instances almost constantly, kept in that position pointing downwards, just as hand charms are made to hang downwards, save when it is desired to use the sign against some particular individual, when the hand is pointed toward him, even at his very eyes if he appear much to be dreaded. when, however, the hand in this position is pointed toward one's chin it conveys a most insulting meaning and hints at conjugal infidelity. as the neapolitan cab-men pass each other the common sign is to wave the hand in gesture and in this position. this is true also of many other places. the sign of the cross is very often made with the hand, usually with the first two fingers extended, and seems to mean a benediction of double potency, because both the hand and the cross itself are utilized in the gesture. i have elsewhere discussed the signification of the sign of the cross, and do not care to take it up again just now. it is certainly of phallic origin and as certainly antedates the christian era by many hundred years. it is, in other words, a pagan symbol to which a newer significance has been given. talismanic power has usually been ascribed to it, and in some form, either as the greek tau or the crux ansata, has been most frequently employed. in one or the other of these forms it was the mark set upon the houses of the israelites to preserve them from the destroying angel. in the roll of the roman soldiery, after a battle, it was placed after the names of those still alive; and we read in ezekiel : of the mark which was to be set upon "the foreheads of the men that cry," which was certainly the greek tau, because the vulgate plainly states this. upon some of the old anglo-saxon coins there was placed a cross on each side, usually the handled cross, and upon various seals it has been in use until a comparatively recent period. it may be seen, also, in many illustrations from the catacombs, for instance, dating back to a time before the cross was a generally received christian emblem, showing both the use of the cross and the hand in the positions to which i have already alluded. the sign of the cross is made by many a schoolboy in his play before he shoots his marble, and i have often seen it made upon the wooden ball before a man has bowled with it. many a peasant scratches it upon his field after sowing, and many a housewife has scratched it upon her dough. the hand with the first two fingers and thumb extended in the ordinary position of sacerdotal benediction was certainly a charm against evil long before the christian era. this is not used so much by the common people, but has been appropriated rather by the priests. by a sort of general consent this has been especially the attitude permitted to the second person of the trinity, although there are numerous instances in mediaeval painting where the hand of the first person has been shown in this position. indeed, the expression "_dextera dei_," or "right hand of god," is conventionalized. in many amulets, images and pictures, other charms are combined with that supposed to be exercised by the human hand. an exceedingly common one was the egyptian scarab. the egyptians believed that there were no females of this kind of insect, hence it was considered a symbol of virility and manly force, and in connection with the _mano pantea_ just alluded to gave the amulet power to guard both the living and dead. in fact it was almost as common upon these emblems as the human eye itself. again, the serpent was a frequent emblem in this same connection. as i have elsewhere written upon the subject of serpent-worship i need scarcely more than allude to it here, save to say that to the serpent were ascribed numerous virtues and powers, and that its use upon any charm was supposed to reinforce the virtues already possessed by it. among the most curious of all the italian charms against the evil eye, and yet one which has been singularly neglected by most writers, is the sprig of rue or, as the neapolitans call it, the _cimaruta_. in its simplest form it was undoubtedly of etruscan or phoenician origin. later, however, it became curiously involved with other symbols and quite complicated. it is worn especially upon the breasts of neapolitan babies, and is considered their especial protection against the much-dreaded jettatura. in ancient times no plant had so many virtues ascribed to it as had the rue. pliny, indeed, cites it as being a remedy for different diseases. it used to be hung about the neck in primeval times to serve as an amulet against fascination. in most of these amulet forms it consists of three branches, which were supposed to be typical of diana triformis, who used often to be represented in three positions and as if having three pairs of arms. diana, by the way, was the especial protectress of women in child-birth. silver was her own metal and the moon her special emblem. therefore, the expression, "the silver moon" is not so meaningless as it would appear. this will in some measure account for the fact that corals, to which large virtues were ascribed, used always to be mounted in silver, and that the crescent, or new moon, is also almost invariably made of this same metal. of the many charms which used to be combined in the _cimaruta_ there is scarcely one which may not be more or less considered as connected with diana, the goddess of infants. frequently, also, we may see representations of the sea-horse quite like the living hippocampi of to-day, which are worn alike by cab horses and by women in naples. they are known locally as the _cavalli marini_. protection supposed to be most efficient was and is frequently afforded also by another method, namely, printed or written invocations, prayers, formulae, etc., worn somewhere about the body. sometimes these were worn concealed from view and at others they were openly displayed. even today on turkish horses and arab camels are hung little bags containing passages from the koran, while the neapolitan horses frequently carry in little canvas bags prayers to the madonna or verses from scripture,--these as a sort of last resort in case the other charms fail. the good catholic of to-day, especially if of irish descent, wears his little scapulary suspended around the neck, which is supposed to be a potent protection. frommannd's large work on magic offers us a perfect mine of written spells against fascination, which have often to be prepared with certain mystic observances. the various written charms, as against the bite of the mad dog, are only other illustrations of the same superstition. indeed, many superstitious people believe that the mere utterance of particular numbers exercises a charm. daily expression of this belief we see in the credulity about the luck of odd numbers, and the old belief that the third time will be lucky. military salutes are always in odd numbers. more value attaches in public estimation to the number seven than to any other, as we see in the miraculous powers ascribed to the seventh son of a seventh son. an appeal to luck to-day is the equivalent of the old prayer to the goddess fortuna, and is voiced in the common idea about the lucky coin and the various little observances for luck which are so popular. these observances are everywhere inclusive of the popular importance attached to expectoration, which is one of the most curious features of these many widespread beliefs. the habit of spitting on a coin, for instance, is very common, just as the schoolboy spits on his agate when playing marbles or on his baseball, or the bowler upon his wooden ball before rolling it. in fact, this whole matter of spitting has been in all ages an expression of a deep-rooted popular belief. among the ancient greeks and romans the most common remedy against an envious look was spitting, hence it was called "_despuere malum_." old women would avert the evil eye from their children by spitting three times (observe the odd number) into their bosoms. the virtues and properties attributed to saliva among various peoples have been numerous and exalted. to lick a wart on rising in the morning used to be one of its well-recognized cures, and is to-day a popular remedy for any slight wound. especially was the saliva of a fasting person peculiarly efficacious. pliny states that when a person looks upon an infant asleep the nurse should spit three times upon the ground. but the most marvellous virtues were attributed to saliva in the direction of restoration of sight. the most conspicuous illustration of this is the instance mentioned in the new testament when christ healed the blind man, for it is related that: "he spat on the ground and made clay of the spittle, and did anoint the eyes of the blind man with the clay." the practice of concealing the eyes is prevalent throughout the orient, and among the mohammedans, cannot be referred entirely to male jealousy, for the women themselves confess to the greatest reluctance to show their faces to the stranger, fearing the influence of the evil eye. again, inasmuch as from time immemorial diseases of all kinds have been considered the direct result of fascination, it was most natural that charms of varied form should be introduced as a protection. many persons even of considerable education lend themselves to this superstition. the carrying in one's pocket of a potato, a lump of camphor or an amulet is, among other alleged charms, but an everyday illustration of this belief. it would be possible to go on with an almost endless enumeration of the forms of this still generally prevalent belief in the power of the evil eye, and of the charms by which it may be averted. as has been set forth, it is but a particulate expression of a general and widespread belief in the existence of an evil being, for some vague and almost unsubstantial, for others assuming almost the proportions of the personal devil of mediaeval theology, or even of the tyrolean passion plays. a discussion in a general way of this topic i have held to be not entirely foreign to the purpose of this society, it being one of the most interesting subjects of folklore study, and it may perhaps be considered just at the present to have a more particular interest for us in that we have so recently been favored with a most delightful and scholarly essay on the "salem witchcraft" by prof. john fiske, in which he graphically set forth the mechanism and the consequences of an aggravated expression of this belief, which constitutes the most serious blot which can be found upon the history of the protestant white races in this country. ii thanatology a questionnaire and a plea for a neglected study[ ] [ ] appeared first in the journal of the american medical association, april , . is it possible to watch the "vital spark of heavenly flame," as it quits "this mortal frame" and not be overcome by the mystery of death as the termination of that even greater mystery, life? is there inspiration in the pagan emperor's address to his soul--those latin verses which pope has so beautifully translated? to the speculative philosopher death may have a different significance, and one not altogether included in that given to it by the physiologist. to the former it is a subject for transcendental speculation; to the latter it is the terminal stage of that adjustment of internal and external relations which, for spencer, constitutes life. for us its primary and immediate significance is purely mundane, yet it deserves such serious study from a practical viewpoint as it seldom receives. what is death? when does it actually occur? how can it occur when the majority of cells in the previously living organism live on for hours or for days or, under certain favoring circumstances, retain potentialities of life for indefinite periods? these and numberless related questions constitute a line of inquiry that may well call for a separate department of science. pondering in this wise, i long ago coined an expression which years later i found had been incorporated in the scientific dictionaries, though never before heard by me or encountered in my reading. "thanatology" is this word, and it may be defined as the study of the nature and causes of death. inseparable from it, however, are certain considerations regarding the nature and causes of life. yet i would not introduce a compound term such as "biothanatology," wishing so far as possible to limit the study and the meaning. let us ask ourselves a few more questions. does life inhere in any particular cell? in the leukocytes? in the neurons? both are capable of stimulated activity long after the death of their host. in fact, by suitable electric stimulation, nearly all the phenomena of life may be reproduced after death, save consciousness and mentality alone. do these then constitute life, and their suppression or abolition death? if so what about the condition of trance, or of absolute imbecility, congenital or induced? or, again, how can a decapitated frog go on living for hours? is it perhaps because the heart is _the_ vital organ that the hearts of some animals will continue to palpitate for hours after their removal from the bodies? yet the animals which have lost them certainly promptly die. suddenly stop a man's heart-action by electrocution, or the guillotine, or a bullet, and he dies, we say, instantly. let it stop equally suddenly under chloroform and there is a period of several minutes during which it may be set going. let a man apparently drown and this viable period becomes even longer--say a goodly fraction of an hour. during the interval is he alive or dead, or is there an intermediate period of absolutely suspended animation? and if so, in what does it consist? is there a vital principle? if so what is it? is such a thing conceivable? can such a concept prevail among physicists? can we consent even to entertain in this direction the notion of what is so vaguely called "the soul?" of course, those who talk most lucidly about the soul know least about it, and no man can define it in comprehensible terms; but can consideration of the soul (whatever it may be) be omitted from our thanatology? probably not, at least by many thinkers who cannot segregate their physics from their theology. sad it is that theology, which might be so consolatory had it any fixed foundation, should be utterly impotent when so much is wanted of it. theology, however, has little if aught to do with thanatology. is protoplasm alive? if so, then why may we not believe, with binet, in the psychic life of micro-organisms? he seems to have advanced good reason for assuming that we may do so, albeit such manifestations in either direction may be scarcely more than expressions of chemiotaxis. but if protoplasm be alive in any proper sense, as it would appear (else where draw the line?), just when does it so appear and whence comes its life? if it be alive, then life inheres in the nitrogen compounds composing it, or else is an adjunct of matter, imponderable, elusive, something _un_-conceivable if undeniable. the vitalists are of late perhaps attaining an ascendency which for decades they had lost, since they maintain that life is not to be explained by chemical activities alone. and yet it is possible to set going in the eggs of certain sea animals the phenomena of life, or to liberate them by certain weak solutions of alkaline cyanides, without the pressure or assistance of fructifying spermatozoa. in such cases life or death are determined by ionization and certain chemicals, or by their absence. where then, again, is the vital principle? or is it inherent in the ion, and was bion correct when he said "electricity is life?" the life of a cell is then necessarily quite distinct from the life of its host, nor can the latter be composed simply of the numerical total lives of its components. some lower animals bear semidivision, in which case each half soon becomes a complete unit by itself. others seem to bear the loss of almost any individual part without loss of life, and it is hard to say just which is the vital part. the central pumping organ is perhaps the _sine qua non_, when it exists. but when non-existent, then what? again, while a living organism may be artificially divided into viable portions, no method seems known by which a series of separate cells may be, as it were, assembled or combined into one, of which a new unit may result from assemblage or combination. the more highly specialized or complex the cell, the more easily does it part with life, and the more difficult becomes its preservation and its reproduction. we may assume that after the death of a man his most specialized cells are the first to die, or more, that their death has perhaps preceded his own. in the ante-mortem collapse seen in many diseases and poisonings, has not this very thing occurred, i. e., that the patient has outlived his most important cells? certainly when a patient dies of progressive gangrene he has outlived, perhaps, a large proportion of his millions of competent cells. viewed properly, what a strange spectacle is here presented! perhaps twenty per cent. of his cells actually dead, the rest bathed in more or less poisonous media, still their host endures yet a little while. "behold, i show you a great mystery." about which of the poisoned cells does the flame of life still flicker? the life-giving germ-and sperm-cells may exist and persist for some time after the body dies, as numerous experiences and experiments have shown. ova and spermatozoa do not die the instant the host dies. and herein appears another great mystery, that cells from the undoubtedly dead body may possess and unfold the potentialities of life when properly environed. among the lower forms of life cells but slightly differentiated go on living and even creating new organisms, though the larger organisms be dead. moreover, in what way shall we regard the division of one ameboid cell into two, equally alive and complete? here two living organisms are made out of one, without death intervening, and by permutation alone may one calculate, through how few generations cells need pass in order to be numbered by millions, without a death necessary to the process. thus far we have had in mind life and death in the animal kingdom alone. but most of what has been said, and much that has not, is equally true in the vegetable kingdom. even in the mineral kingdom--as some think--the invariable and inevitable tendency to assume definite crystalline form represents the lowest type of life. indeed it might fall in with spencer's definition as evincing a tendency to adjust internal to external relations, though exhibited only after such ruthless disturbance as liquefaction by heat or solution. but then, is not every disturbance of relations "ruthless," because it follows inexorable habits of nature? even a crystal will reform as frequently as appear certain other phenomena of life, if made to do so. were atoms alive they would suffer with every fresh chemical change, and who knows but that they do? but in the vegetable world we certainly have all the features of life and death in complete form: fructification of certain cells by certain others, development in unicellular form or in most profuse and complex form, a selection of necessary constituents of growth from apparently unpromising soil, and the production of startling results. does not the sensitive plant evince a contact sensibility almost equal to that of the conjunctiva? and who shall say that it does not suffer when rudely handled? does not the production of the complex essential oils and volatile ethers which give to certain flowers their wonderful fragrance, indicating what strange combinations of crude materials have been effected within their cells, show as wonderful a laboratory as any concealed within the animal organisms? yet death comes to these plants with equal certainty, and presents equally perplexing mysteries. when dies the flower? when plucked and separated from its natural supply or when it begins to fade (a period made more or less variable by the care given it), or when it ceases to emit its odor? and is then death a matter of hours? when the floral stem was snapped what else snapped with it? at what instant did the floral murder occur? every seed and every seedling possesses marvelous potentiality of life, and so long as it does we say it is not dead; nor yet is it alive. it resists considerable degrees of heat, will bear the lowest temperature, will remain latent for long periods, and still its cells will instantly respond to favoring stimuli. its actual life is apparently aroused by purely thermic and chemical (electrionic?) activities environing it. in what do its life and its death consist? but life and death are influenced--we say "strangely" only because it all seems strange to us--by uncommon or purely artificial conditions. radium emanations have always an injurious effect on embryonic development. under their influence, for example, the eggs of amphibia become greatly disturbed. cells that should specialize into nerve, ganglion and muscle fail to develop, and consequently there may be produced minute amphibian monsters, destitute of nerves and muscles, but otherwise nearly normal. hertwig has submitted the sperm-cells of sea urchins to these rays, without killing them, but invariably with consequent abnormal development. the effect of cathode or _x_-rays is even more widely recognized and has been more generally demonstrated. they seem to possess properties injurious to most cell-life and even fatal to some. still more puzzling, and weird in a way, are the results of experiments, now widely practiced, which have to do with juggling, as it were, with ova, larvæ and embryos, by all imaginable combinations of subdivision and reattachment of parts, so that there have resulted all kinds of monstrosities and abnormalities. to such an extent has this laboratory play been carried that almost any desired product can be furnished--living creatures with two heads, two tails, or whatever combination may be determined. among the most remarkable of these efforts have been those of vianney, of lyons, who has shown that it is possible to remove the head end of several different insect larvæ without preventing their development and metamorphosis into the butterfly stage. in _bombyx_ larvæ, for example, the butterflies arrived at the mature stage, with streaked wings and beautiful coloration, but almost headless. these anencephalous insects lived for some time. few animals survive exposures of any length to a temperature much over f., and most of them are killed by considerably less heat. freezing has always been considered equally fatal. gangrene is the common result of freezing a part of the human body, and that means local death. extraordinary pains must be taken with a frozen ear or finger if its vitality is to be restored. and so even with the hibernating, or the cold-blooded animals, a really low temperature has been generally regarded as fatal. but the recent experiments of pictet, who did so much in the production of exceedingly low temperatures, freezing of gases, etc., have shown some startling results in the failure to kill goldfish and other of the lower animals by refrigeration. for instance, goldfish were placed in a tank whose water was gradually frozen while the fish were still moving therein. the result was a cake of ice with imprisoned supposedly dead fish. this ice was then reduced to a still lower temperature, at which it was maintained for over two months. it was then very slowly thawed out, whereupon the fish came to life and moved in apparently their normal and natural ways as if nothing had happened. this confirms pictet's early experiments and convictions, that if the chemical reactions of living organisms can be suspended without causing organic lesions the phenomena of life will temporarily disappear, to return when conditions are again as usual. it is worth relating that his fish frozen in this way could be broken in small pieces just as if they were part of the ice itself. how often during these recent decades when events have seemed to move faster, when discoveries and inventions have been announced at such frequent and brief intervals that we fail to note them all for lack of time, when haste and rush characterize habits alike of life and thought, do we find that we simply must stop, as it were for breath, while we unload a large amount of accumulated mental rubbish and clear a space in our storage capacity for up-to-date knowledge! it is a decennial mental house-cleaning process. we must unlearn so much of that which ten to forty years ago we so laboriously learned. we must adopt new and improved reasoning processes. but it is hard to do all this. for instance, as a boy i learned the old chemistry quite thoroughly. during a subsequent interval, when i did not need to study it, came the new chemistry, and when i again required it i had not only to study a practically new science--which was not so bad--but to rid my brain of much that had really found firm lodgment there, and this was difficult or impossible. so it is with one who, having been brought up on euclidean geometry, finds himself confronted with the comparatively new non-euclidean, and who has then not merely to forget, but to unlearn all those fundamental axioms which seemed so plain and so indisputable, that is, if he would accept the teachings of bolyai and others. for example, that a straight line is not necessarily the shortest route between two points shocks our euclidean orthodoxy, and is at the same time, _to us_, inconceivable; as also that parallel lines indefinitely prolonged _may_ touch, and the like; likewise the concept of four-dimensional spaces, or worse yet, _n_-dimensional. and now, in somewhat like manner and to a certain degree, must we revise our previous conceptions of death, at least to this extent: not that we yet know much better than we did what it really is, but that we know more about what it is not. even save, perhaps, in its instantaneous happening it is _but a step_ toward dissolution, usually not the first, certainly not the last, but yet the most conspicuous. death is in many respects a biochemical fact. it is so intertwined with ionic changes in the arrangement of matter that we may hope for more information regarding some of its aspects as knowledge of the latter accumulates. but, evidently, we need to clarify our notions as we rearrange our facts. somatic death is, after all, a most complex process. it may be shortened by instant and complete incineration, but scarcely in any other way. even dynamite would scarcely simplify the problem. as to conscious death, that is _probably_ (though not certainly) a matter of seconds only or possibly fractions of a second. while we have no accurate appreciation of what constitutes consciousness, nor even just where it resides, the central nervous system appears to be its most probable seat. but conscious death may occur almost instantly without injury to this system, as when a bullet passes through the thorax and the heart, without injuring the spine. but what is it that suddenly checks all concerted and interdependent activity? or does something or some controlling agency suddenly leave the body? a recent theory, having features to commend it, is to the effect that life is a property or a feature of the ultimate _corpuscles_ which compose the atom. since these corpuscles bear to their containing atom a relative size comparable to that of the tiniest visible insect winging its way in a large church edifice, the intricacies of this particular theory readily appear. but it does seem as though among ourselves life has much to do with the hitherto neglected and despised nitrogen atom or molecule, since life inheres _par excellence_ in nitrogen compounds. moreover, _vitality is conspicuously a feature of those chemical elements which have the lowest atomic weight_, while at the other end of the table of atomic weights stands radium, of whose destructive emanations i have already spoken. another phase of the general subject of thanatology was suggested especially by osier, who a few years ago called attention to the fact that but few, if any patients really die of the disease from which they have been suffering. this is not a paradox, and needs only reason and observation to confirm it. his statement was a preliminary to the consideration of terminal infections and toxemias, which of itself would be sufficient to erect thanatology into a dignified special study. take, for instance, a patient who has long suffered from diabetes. the end is characterized by coma, i. e., an evidence of profound toxemia, and is in large measure due to acetonemia. a patient with chronic bright's disease dies of uremic poisoning, or one with pneumonia dies of genuine heart-failure. the terminal stage of cancer is, again, toxemia of one kind or another, according as it has interfered with digestion, with respiration, or some other vital function, or has broken down, thus saturating the patient with septic products. this aspect of the subject will bear any amount of study and elaboration, and its mention here should be sufficient for my purpose. accordingly as it is properly appreciated, it will be recognized as having an important practical bearing, since, if we may foresee the direction from which the final danger threatens, it may be the better and the longer averted. another very important and practical subject is wrapped up in this one, namely, the utilization of apparently dead, or at least of only potentially living material (tissue) in the various methods of grafting or transplantation, which are to-day a part of the surgeon's work. the methods are themselves a transplantation of experiences gained by work in the vegetable kingdom. what wonder that the marvels revealed in one department should have incited work along parallel lines in the other? that flowers and fruit of one kind may be made to grow on a tree of a very different kind excites but a small amount of the astonishment it deserves, mainly because it is now a common occurrence, though properly regarded it might seem a miracle. differing only in minor respect is, for example, the removal of thyroidal tissue from one human being and its implantation into another, with functional success. one may ask just here, how is this matter concerned with thanatology? and the reply is: if this tissue were taken from a fresh corpse it would be by most people regarded as dead tissue. if so, does the dead come to life? without violating the proper scientific use of the imagination one may fancy something like the following: let a healthy young woman meet accidental and instantaneous death. it would be possible to use no inconsiderable portion of her body for grafting or other justifiable surgical procedures. the arteries and nerves could be used, both in the fresh state, and the former even after preservation, for suitable transplantation or repair work on the vascular and nervous systems of a considerable number of other people. so also could the thyroid, the cornea, the ovaries and especially the bones. all the teeth, if healthy, could be reimplanted. with the thin bones, ribs especially, plastic operations--particularly on the noses--of fifty people could be made. and then the exterior of the body could be made to supply any amount of normal integument with which to do heterologous dermatoplastic operations, or would furnish an almost inexhaustible supply of epidermis for thiersch grafts, which latter material need not be used in the fresh state, but could be preserved and made available some days and even weeks later. a portion of the muscles might possibly be made available for checking oozing from bleeding surfaces of others, if used while still fresh and warm, and possibly portions of the ureters or some other portion of the remains might be utilized for some unusual purpose. then what extracts or extractives might be prepared from other parts of the body, pituitary, adrenals, bone-marrow, etc.? the tendons might also be prepared for sutures. every one of these procedures would give promise of success, the technic being in every respect satisfactory. but the possible limit is not yet reached, since with each kidney might be carried out experiments like those feats of physiologic jugglery such as carrel has shown us, by implanting one, say in the neck, connecting up the renal with the carotid artery, and the renal vein with the jugular, while some receptacle would have to be provided as a terminal for the ureter. this is, after all, not a fantastic dream, nor such an extreme picture as would at first appear, since every organ or tissue above-mentioned--and more--has been used as indicated, and with success. but imagine the dead body affording viable products, even indirectly life itself, to (possibly) so many others! does this complicate the study of death? and what must become of the simple credulous faith of the zealot who believes in the actual and absolute resurrection, at some later date? there is something more than mere transcendentalism in the science of thanatology; it has a plausible medico-legal and pragmatic import. right glad should i be if i might arouse a deserved interest in it. how may i more fittingly conclude than by quoting a few lines from our own bryant's "thanatopsis": "earth that nourished thee, shall claim thy growth, to be resolved to earth again, and, lost each human trace, surrendering up thine individual being, shalt thou go to mix forever with the elements." though were i minded to rehearse certain difficulties met in the preparation of this paper, which i have long had in mind, i might also add the following lines from the same poet's "hymn to death": "alas! i little thought that the stern power whose fateful praise i sung, would try me thus before the strain was ended." one may well quote, at this point, lamartine, who asked, "what is life but a series of preludes to that mystery whose initial solemn note is tolled by death?" (on this theme liszt built up that wonderful symphonic tone poem "les preludes.") even infinity is now questioned by the mathematicians. this being the case, where shall we, where can _we_ stop? note.--while writing the foregoing paper there came to my notice the recent book "death; its causes and phenomena," by carrington and meader (london, ). it is interesting, but save that it contains a helpful bibliography, is of little assistance to one wishing to pursue the study from its pragmatic aspect. one of the authors is committed to a personal theory that death is caused by cessation of the vibrations which during life maintain vital activity; the other that death is, as it were, the culmination of a bad habit of expectancy that something of the kind must occur, into which we have fallen, in spite of the fact that other living beings below man undergo the same fate, though not capable of expecting anything. iii serpent-myths and serpent-worship[ ] [ ] a presidential address before the buffalo society of natural sciences. since the dawn of written history, and from the most remote periods, the serpent has been regarded with the highest veneration as the most mysterious of living creatures. being alike an object of wonder, admiration and fear, it is not strange that it became early connected with numerous superstitions; and when we remember how imperfectly understood were its habits we shall not wonder at the extraordinary attributes with which it was invested, nor perhaps even why it obtained so general a worship. thus centuries ago horapollo referring to serpent symbolism, said: "when the egyptians were representing a universe they delineated the spectacle as a variegated snake devouring its own tail, the scales intimating the stars in the universe, the animal being extremely heavy, as is the earth, and extremely slippery like the water; moreover it every year puts off its old age with its skin as, in the universe, the recurring year effects a corresponding change, and becomes renovated, while the making use of its own body for food implies that all things whatever which are generated by divine providence in the world undergo a corruption into them again." in all probability the annual shedding of the skin and the supposed rejuvenation of the animal was that which first connected it with the idea of eternal succession of form, subsequent reproduction and dissolution. this doctrine is typified in the notion of the succession of ages which prevailed among the greeks, and the similar notion met with among nearly all primitive peoples. the ancient mysteries, with few or perhaps no exceptions, were all intended to illustrate the grand phenomena of nature. the mysteries of osiris, isis and horus in egypt; of cybele in phrygia, of ceres and proserpine at eleusis, of venus and adonis in phoenicia, of bona dea and of priapus in rome, all had this in in common, that they both mystified and typified the creation of things and the perpetuation of life. in all of them the serpent was conspicuously introduced as it symbolized and indicated the invigorating energy of nature. in the mysteries of ceres, the grand secret which was communicated to the initiates was put in this enigma,--"the bull has begotten a serpent and the serpent a bull," the bull being a prominent emblem of generative force. in ancient egypt it was usually the bull's horns which served as a symbol for the entire animal. when with the progress of centuries the bull became too expensive an animal to be commonly used for any purpose, the ram was substituted; hence the frequency of the ram's horns, as a symbol for jove, seen so frequently, for example, among roman antiquities. originally fire was taken to be one of the emblems of the sun, and thus most naturally, inevitably and universally the sun came to symbolize the active, vivifying principle of nature. that the serpent should in time typify the same principle, while the egg symbolized the more passive or feminine element, is equally certain but less easy of explanation; indeed we are to regard the serpent as the symbol of the great hermaphrodite first principle of nature. "it entered into the mythology of every nation, consecrated almost every temple, symbolized almost every deity, was imagined in the heavens, stamped on the earth and ruled in the realms of eternal sorrow." for this animal was estimated to be the most spirited of all reptiles of fiery nature, inasmuch as it exhibits an incredible celerity, moving by its spirit without hands or feet or any of the external members by which other animals effect their motion, while in its progress it assumes a variety of forms, moving in a spiral course and darting forward with whatever degree of swiftness it pleases. the close relationship if not absolute identity among the early races of man between solar, phallic and serpent worship was most striking; so marked indeed as to indicate that they are all forms of a single worship. it is with the latter that we must for a little while concern ourselves. how prominent a place serpent worship plays in our own old testament will be remarked as soon as one begins to reflect upon it. the part played by the serpent in the biblical myth concerning the origin of man is the first and most striking illustration. in the degenerated ancient mysteries of bacchus some of the persons who took part in the ceremonies used to carry serpents in their hands and with horrid screams call "eva, eva;" the attendants were in fact often crowned with serpents while still making these frantic cries. in the sabazian mysteries the snake was permitted to slip into the bosom of the person to be initiated and then to be removed from below the clothing. this ceremony was said to have originated among the magi. it has been held that the invocation "eva" related to the great mother of mankind; even so good an authority as clemens of alexandria held to this opinion, but clemens also acknowledges that the name eva, when properly aspirated is practically the same as epha, or opha, which the greeks call ophis, which is, in english, serpent. in most of the other mysteries serpent rites were introduced and many of the names were extremely suggestive. the abaddon mentioned in the book of revelation is certainly some serpent deity, since the prefix ab, signifies not only father, but serpent. by zoroaster the expanse of the heavens and even nature itself was described under the symbol of the serpent. in ancient persia temples were erected to the serpent tribe, and festivals consecrated to their honor, some relic of this being found in the word basilicus, or royal serpent, which gives rise to the term basilica applied to the christian churches of the present era. the ethiopians, even, of the present day derive their name from the greek aithiopes, meaning the serpent gods worshipped long before them; again, the island of euboea signifies the serpent island and properly spelled should be oub-aia. the greeks claimed that medusa's head was brought by perseus, by which they mean the serpent deity, as the worship was introduced into greece by a people called peresians. the head of medusa denoted divine wisdom, while the island was sacred to the serpent. the worship of the serpent being so old, many places as well as races received names indicating the prevalence of this general superstition; but this is no time to catalogue names,--though one perhaps should mention ophis, oboth, eva in macedonia, dracontia, and last but not least, the name of eve and the garden of eden. seth was, according to some, a semi-divine first ancestor of the semites; bunsen has shown that several of the antedeluvian descendants of adam were among the phoenician deities; thus carthagenians had as god, yubal or jubal who would appear to have been the sun-god of esculapius; or, spelled more correctly, ju-baal, that is beauty of baal. whether or not the serpent symbol has a distinct phallic reference has been disputed, but the more the subject is broadly studied the more it would seem that such is the case. it must certainly appear that the older races had that form of belief with which the serpent was always more or less symbolically connected, that is, adoration of the male principle of generation, one of whose principal phases was undoubtedly ancestor worship, while somewhat later the race adored the female principle which they symbolized by the sacred tree so often alluded to in scripture as the assyrian grove. whether snakes be represented singly, coupled in pairs as in the well known caduceus or rod of esculaipius, or in the crown placed upon the head of many a god and goddess, or the many headed snake drinking from the jewelled cup, or a snake twisted around a tree with another approaching it, suggesting temptation and fall,--in all these the underlying principle is always the same. symbols of this character are met with not only in the temples of ancient egypt but in ruins antedating them in persia and the east; in the antiquities belonging to the races that first peopled what is now greece and italy, in the rock markings of india and of central europe, in the cromlechs of great britain and scandinavia, in the great serpent mound which still remains in ohio, and in many other mounds left by the mound builders of this country, in the ruins of central america and yucatan, and in the traditions and relics of the aztecs and toltecs,--in fact wherever antiquarian research has penetrated or where monuments of ancient peoples remain. there never has been so widespread a superstition, and no matter what later forms it may have assumed we must admit that it, first of all, and for a long time was man's tribute to the great, all powerful and unknown regenerative principle of nature, which has been deified again and again, and which always has been and always will be the greatest mystery within the ken of mankind. brown in his "great dionysiak myth" says the serpent has these points of connection with dionysus, ( ) as a symbol of and connected with wisdom, ( ) as a solar emblem, ( ) as a symbol of time and eternity, ( ) as an emblem of the earth, life, ( ) as connected with the fertilizing mystery, ( ) as a phallic emblem. referring to the last of these he says: "the serpent being connected with the sun, the earth, life and fertility, must needs be also a phallic emblem, and was appropriate to the cult of dionysos priapos." again, sir g. w. cox says, "it is unnecessary to analyze theories which profess to see in it worship of the creeping brute or the wide-spreading tree; a religion based upon the worship of the venomous reptile must have been a religion of terror. in the earliest glimpses which we have the serpent is the symbol of life and of love, nor is the phallic cultus in any respect a cult of the full grown branching tree." again, "this religion, void of reason, condemned in the wisdom of solomon, probably survived even babylonian captivity; certainly it was adopted by the sects of christians which were known as ophites, gnostics and nicolaitans." another learned author says: "by comparing the varied legends of the east and west in conjunction we obtain a full outline of the mythology of the ancients. it recognizes as the primary element of things two independent principles of nature, the male and female, and these, in characteristic union as the soul and body, constitute the great hermaphrodite deity, the one, the universe itself, consisting still of the two separate elements of its composition, modified though combined in one individual, of which all things are regarded but as parts." in fact the characteristics of all pagan deities, male or female, gradually mold into each other and at last into one or two; for as william jones has stated, it seems a well-founded opinion that the entire list of gods and goddesses means only the powers of nature, principally those of the sun, expressed in a variety of ways with a multitude of fanciful names. the creation is, in fact, human rather than a divine product in this sense, that it was suggested to the mind of man by the existence of things, while its method was, at least at first, suggested by the operation of nature; thus man saw the living bird emerge from the egg, after a certain period of incubation, a phenomenon equivalent to actual creation as apprehended by his simple mind. incubation obviously then associated itself with creation, and this fact will explain the universality with which the egg was received as a symbol in the earlier systems of cosmogony. by a similar process creation came to be symbolized in the form of a phallus, and so egyptians in their refinement of these ideas adopted as their symbol of the great first cause a scarabaeus, indicating the great hermaphroditic unity, since they believed this insect to be both male and female. they beautifully typified a part of this idea also in the adoration which they paid to the water lily, or _lotus_, so generally regarded as sacred throughout the east. it is the sublime and beautiful symbol which perpetually occurs in oriental mythology, and, as maurice has stated, not without substantial reason, for it is its own beautiful progeny and contains a treasure of physical instruction. the lotus flower grows in the water among broad leaves, while in its center is formed a seed vessel shaped like a bell, punctured on the top with small cavities in which its seeds develop; the openings into the seed cells are too small to permit the seeds to escape when ripe, consequently they absorb moisture and develop within the same, shooting forth as new plants from the place where they originated; the bulb of the vessel serving as a matrix which shall nourish them until they are large enough to burst open and release themselves, after which they take root wherever deposited. "the plant, therefore, being itself productive of itself, vegetating from its own matrix, being fostered in the earth, was naturally adopted as a symbol of the productive power of the waters upon which the creative spirit of the creator acted, in giving life and vegetation to matter. we accordingly find it employed in every part of the northern hemisphere where symbolical religion, improperly called idolatry, existed." further exemplification of the same underlying principle is seen in the fact that most all of the ancient deities were paired; thus we have heaven and earth, sun and moon, fire and earth, father and mother, etc. faber says "the ancient pagans of almost every part of the globe were wont to symbolize the world by an egg, hence this symbol is introduced into the cosmogonies of nearly all nations, and there are few persons even among those who have made mythology their study to whom the mundane egg is not perfectly familiar; it is the emblem not only of earth and life but also of the universe in its largest extent." in the island of cyprus is still to be seen a gigantic egg-shaped vase which is supposed to represent the mundane or orphic egg. it is of stone, measuring thirty feet in circumference, and has upon it a sculptured bull, the emblem of productive energy. it is supposed to signify the constellation of taurus, whose rising was connected with the return of the mystic re-invigorating principle. the work of the mound builders in this country is generally and widely known, still it is perhaps not so generally known how common upon this continent was the general use of the serpent symbol. their remains are spread over the country from the sources of the allegheny in n. y. state westward to iowa and nebraska, to a considerable extent through the mississippi valley, and along the susquehanna as far as the valley of wyoming in pennsylvania. they are found even along the st. lawrence river; they also line the shore of the gulf from florida to texas. that they were erected for other than defensive purposes is most clear; without knowing exactly what was the government of their builders the presumption is that it combined both the priestly and civil functions, as obtained centuries ago in mexico. the great serpent mound, already alluded to, had a length of at least , feet; the outline was perfectly regular and the mouth was widely open as if in the act of swallowing or ejecting an oval figure, also formed of earth, whose longest diameter was one hundred and sixty feet. again near granville, ohio, occurs the form of an alligator in connection with which was indubitable evidence of an altar. near tarlton, ohio, is another earth work in the form of a cross. there is every reason to think that sacrifices were made upon the altars nearly always found in connection with these mounds. among the various animal effigies found in wisconsin, mounds in the form of a serpent are most frequently met with, while circles enclosing a pentagon, or a mound with eight radiating points, undoubtedly representing the sun, were also found. there would seem in all these representations to be an unmistakable reference to that form of early cosmogony in which every vivification of the mundane egg constituted a real act of creation. in japan this conceptive egg is allegorically represented by a nest-egg shown floating upon an expanse of water, against which a bulb is striking with horns. the sandwich islanders have a tradition that a bird, which with them is an emblem of deity, laid an egg upon the waters, which burst of itself and thus produced the islands. in egypt, kneph was represented as a serpent emitting from his mouth an egg, from which proceeds the divinity phtha. in the bible there is frequent reference to seraphs; se ra ph is the singular of seraphim, meaning, splendor, fire or light. it is emblematic of the fiery sun, which under the name of the serpent dragon was destroyed by the reformer hezekiah; or, it means, also, the serpent with wings and feet, as used to be represented in funeral rituals. undoubtedly abraham brought with him from chaldea into lower egypt symbols of simple phallic deities. the reference in the bible to the teraphim of jacob's family reminds us that terah was the name of abraham's father, and that he was a maker of images. undoubtedly the teraphim were the same as the seraphim; that is, were serpent images and were the household charms of the semitic worshippers of the sun-god, to whom the serpent was sacred. in numbers, , the serpent symbol of the exodus is called a seraph; moreover when the people were bitten by a fiery serpent moses prayed for them, when jehovah replied, "make them a fiery serpent, (literally seraph) and set it upon a pole, and it shall come to pass that every one who is bitten when he looketh upon it shall live." the exact significance of this healing figure of the serpent is far to seek. in this connection it must be remembered also, that among several of the semitic tongues the same root signifies both serpent and phallus, which are both in effect solar emblems. cronus of the ancient orphic theogony, probably identical with hercules, was represented under the mixed emblem of a lion and a serpent, or often as a serpent alone. he was originally considered supreme, as is shown from his being called il, which is the same as the hebrew, el, which was, according to st. jerome, one of the ten names of god. damascius in his life of isidorus mentions that cronus was worshipped under the name of el. brahm, cronus and kneph each represented the mystical union of the reciprocal or active and passive regenerative principles. the semitic deity, seth, was certainly a serpent god, and can be identified with saturn and with deities of other people. the common name of god, _eloah_, among the hebrews and other semites, goes back into the earliest times; indeed bryant goes so far as to say that el was the original name of the supreme deity among all the nations of the east. he was the same as cronus, who again was the primeval saturn. thus saturn and el were the same deity, and like seth were symbolized by the serpent. on the western continent this great unity was equally recognized; in mexico as teotl, in peru as varicocha or the soul of the universe, in central america and yucatan as stunah ku, or god of gods. the mundane egg was everywhere received as the symbol of the original, passive, unorganized formless nature, and later became associated with other symbols referring to the creative force or vitalizing influence, which was often represented in emblem by a bull. in the aztec pantheon all the other gods and goddesses were practically modified impersonations of these two principles. in the simpler mythology of peru these principles took the form of the sun, and the moon his wife. among the ruins of uxmal are two long massive walls of stone thirty feet thick, whose inner sides are embellished with sculpture containing fragments of colossal entwined serpents which run the whole length of the walls; in the center of the wall was a great stone ring. among the annals of the mexicans the woman whose name old spanish writers translated "the woman of our fish" is always represented as accompanied by a great male serpent. this serpent is the sun-god, the principal deity of the mexican pantheon, while the name which they give to the goddess mother of primitive man signifies "woman of the serpent." inseparably connected with the serpent as a phallic emblem are also the pyramids, and, as is well known, pyramids abound in mexico and central america. as humboldt years ago observed pyramids existed through mexico, in the forests of papantha at a short distance above sea-level; on the plains of cholula and of teotihuacan, and at an elevation which exceeds those of the passes of the alps. in most widely different nations, in climates most different, man seems to have adopted the same style of construction, the same ornaments, the same customs, and to have placed himself under the government of the same political institutions. mayer describing one of his trips says, "i constantly saw serpents in the city of mexico, carved in stone and in the various collections of antiquities." the symbolic feathered serpent was by no means peculiar to mexico and yucatan. squier encountered it in nicaragua on the summits of volcanic ridges; even among our historic indian tribes, for example among the lenni lenape, they called the rattlesnake "grandfather," and made offerings of tobacco to it. furthermore in most of the indian traditions of the manitou the great serpent figures most conspicuously. it has been often remarked that every feature of the religion of the new world discovered by cortez and pizarro indicates a common origin for the superstitions of both continents, for we have the same worship of the sun, the same pyramidal monuments, and the same universal veneration of the serpent. thus it will be seen that the serpent symbol had a wide acceptance upon this continent as well as the other, and among the uncivilized and semi-barbaric races; that it entered widely into all symbolic representation with an almost universal significance. perhaps the latest evidences of the persistence of this belief may be seen in the tradition ascribing to st. patrick, the credit of having driven all the serpents from irish soil; or in the perpetuation of rites, festivals and representations whose obsolete origin is now forgotten. for instance the annual may-day festival, scarcely yet discontinued, is certainly of this origin, yet few if any of those who participate in it are aware that it is only the perpetuation of the vernal solar festival of baal, and that the garlanded may-pole was anciently a phallic emblem. among men of my own craft the traditions of aesculapius are familiar. aesculapius is, however, inseparably connected with the serpent myth and in statues and pictures he is almost always represented in connection with a serpent. thus he is seen with the caduceus or the winged wand entwined by two serpents, or, sometimes with serpents' bodies wound around his own; but rarely ever without some serpent emblem. moreover the caduceus is identical with the simple figure of the cross by which its inventor, thoth, is said to have symbolized the four elements proceeding from a common center. in connection with the cross it is interesting also that in many places in the east serpent worship was not immediately destroyed by the advent of christianity. the gnostics for example, among christian sects, united it with the religion of the cross, as might be shown by many quotations from religious writers. the serpent clinging to the cross was used as a symbol of christ, and a form of christian serpent worship was for a long time in vogue among many beside the professed ophites. in the celebration of the bacchic mysteries the mystery of religion, as usual throughout the world, was concealed in a chest or box. the israelites had their sacred ark, and every nation has had some sacred receptacle for holy things and symbols. the worshippers of bacchus carried in their consecrated baskets the mystery of their god, while after their banquet it was usual to pass around the cup which was called "the cup of the good daemon," whose symbol was a serpent. this was long before the institution of the rite of the last supper. the fable of the method by which the god aesculapius was brought from epidaurus to rome, and the serpentine form in which he appeared before his arrival in rome for the purpose of checking the terrible pestilence, are well known. the serpentine column which still stands in the old race course in constantinople is certainly a relic of serpent worship, though this fact was not appreciated by constantine when he set it up. the significance of the ark is not to be overlooked. first, noah was directed to take with him into the ark animals of every kind. but this historical absurdity, read aright and in its true phallic sense, means that the ark was the sacred argha of hindoo mythology, which like the moon in zoroastrian teachings, carries in itself the germ of all things. read in this sense the thing is no longer incomprehensible. as _en arche_ (in the beginning) elohim created the heavens and the earth, so in the ark were the seeds of all things preserved that they might again repopulate the earth. thus this ark of noah, or of osiris, the primeval ship whose navigation has been ascribed to various mythological beings, was in fact the moon or the ship of the sun, in which his seed is supposed to be hidden until it bursts forth in new life and power. but the dove which figures so conspicuously in the biblical legend was consecrated to venus in all her different names, in babylon, in syria, in palestine and in greece; it even attended upon janus in his voyage of the golden fleece. and so the story of jonah going to joppa, a seaport where dagon, the fish-god was worshipped, and of the great fish, bears a suspicious relation to the same cult, for the fish was revered at joppa as was the dove at nineveh. it has been impossible to dissociate serpent and serpent worship from aesculapius. this is not because this mythological divinity is supposed to have been the founder of my profession, but because he has been given at all times a serpentine form and has been, apparently, on the most familiar terms with the animal. pausanias, indeed, assures us that he often appeared in serpentine form, and the roman citizens of two thousand years ago saw in this god "in reptilian form an object of high regard and worship." when this divinity was invited to make rome his home, in accordance with the oracle, he is represented as saying: "i come to leave my shrine; this serpent view, that with ambitious play my staff encircles; mark him every way; his form though larger, nobler, i'll assume, and, changed as god's should be, bring aid to rome." (ovid: metamorphosis xv). when in due time this salutary serpent arrived upon the island in the tiber he began to assume his natural form, whatever that may have been; "and now no more the drooping city mourns, joy is again restored and health returns." considering then the intimate relation between the founder of medicine and the serpent it will not seem strange to you that the serpent myth is a subject of keen interest to every student of the history of medicine. this devotion to serpent worship appears to have lingered a long time in italy, for so late as the year a bronze serpent on the basillica of st. ambrose was worshipped. de gubernatis speaking of it says, "some say it was the serpent aesculapius, others moses, others that it was the image of christ; for us it is enough to remark that it was a mythological serpent before which the milanese mothers offered their children when they suffered from worms, in order to relieve them," a practice which was finally suppressed by san carlo. moreover, there has persisted until recently what is called a snake festival in a little mountain church near naples, where those participating carry snakes around their persons, the purpose of the festival being to preserve the participants from poison and sudden death and bring them good fortune. (sozinskey). the power of the sun over health and disease was long ago recognized in the old chaldean hymn in which the sun is petitioned thus: "thou at thy coming cure the race of man; cause the ray of health to shine upon him; cure his disease." probably some feeling akin to that voiced in this way gave rise to the following beautiful passage in malachi ( : ): "the sun of righteousness shall arise with healing in his wings." as a purely medical symbol the serpent is meant to symbolize prudence; long ago men were enjoined to be "as wise as serpents" as well as harmless as doves. in india the serpent is still regarded as a symbol of every species of learning. it has also another medical meaning, namely, _convalescence_, for which there is afforded some ground in the remarkable change which it undergoes every spring from a state of lethargy to one of active life. according to ferguson, the experience of moses and the children of israel with brazen serpents led to the first recorded worship paid to the serpent, which is also noteworthy, since the cause of this adoration is said to have been its intrinsic healing power. the prototype of the brazen serpent of moses in latter times was the good genius, the _agathodaemon_ of the greeks, which was regarded always with the greatest favor and usually accorded considerable power over disease. the superstitious tendency to regard disease and death as the visitation of a more or less capricious act by some extra mundane power persists even to the present day. for example, in the episcopal book of common prayer, it is stated, in the order for the visitation of the sick, "wherefore, whatsoever your sickness be, know you certainly that it is god's visitation," while for relief the following sentiment is formulated in prayer, "lord look down from heaven, behold, visit and relieve these, thy servants," thus voicing the very ideas which were current among various peoples of remote antiquity and eliminating all possibility of such a thing as the regulation of disease or of sanitary medicine. iv iatro-theurgic symbolism[ ] [ ] an address before the maine medical association, portland, june nd, . so soon as had subsided the feeling of surprise, caused by a most unexpected invitation to address you to-night, i began at once to cast about for a subject with which i might endeavor so to interest you as to justify the high and appreciated compliment which this invitation mutely conveyed. and so, after considerable reflection, it appeared to me that it was perhaps just as well that medical men should be entertained, even at such a gathering as this, by something which if not _of_ the profession was at least _for_ the profession, and still not too remote from the purposes which have drawn us together. accordingly i decided to forsake the beaten path and, instead of selecting a topic in pathology or in surgery, upon which i could possibly speak with some familiarity, to invite your attention to a subject which has always been of the greatest interest to me, yet upon which it has been hard, without great labor and numerous books, to get much information. if i were to attempt to formulate this topic under a distinctive name i could perhaps call it _medico-christian_ symbolism. it is well known to scholars that practically all of the symbols and symbolism of christianity have come from pagan sources, having been carried over, as one might say, across the line of the christian era, from one to the other, in the most natural and unavoidable way, although most of these symbols and caricatures have more or less lost their original signification and have been given another of purely christian import. to acknowledge that this is so is to cast no slur upon christianity; it is simply recording an historical fact. it would take me too far from my purpose to-night were i to go into the reasons which brought about this change; i simply want to disavow all intention of making light of serious things, or of reflecting in any way upon the nobility of the christian church, its meanings or its present practices. but, accepting the historical fact that christian symbols were originally pagan caricatures, i want to ask you to study with me for a little while the original signification of these pagan symbols, feeling that i can perhaps, interest you in such a study providing that it can be shown that almost all of these emblems had originally an essentially medical significance, referring in some way or other either to questions of health and disease, or else to the deeper question of the origin of mankind and the great generative powers of nature, at which physicians to-day wonder as much as they did two thousand years ago. considering then the medical significance of such study i have been tempted to incur the charge of being pedantic and have coined the term _iatro-theurgic symbolism_, which title i shall give to the essay which i shall present to you to-night. as inman says, "moderns who have not been initiated in the sacred mysteries and only know the emblems considered sacred, have need of both anatomical knowledge and physiological lore ere they can see the meaning of many signs." the emblems or symbols then, to which i shall particularly allude, are the _cross_, the _tree_ and _grove_, the _fish_, the _dove_, and the _serpent_. and first of all the cross, about which very erroneous notions prevail. it is seen everywhere either as a matter of personal or church adornment, or as an architectural feature, and everywhere the impression prevails that it is exclusively a christian symbol. this, however, is the grossest of errors, for the world abounds in cruciform symbols and monuments which existed long before christianity was thought of. it is otherwise however with the crucifix which is, of course, an absolutely christian symbol. the image of a dead man stretched out upon the cross is a purely christian addition to a purely pagan emblem, though some of the old hindoo crosses remind one of it very powerfully. no matter upon which continent we look we see everywhere the same cruciform sign among peoples and races most distinct. there perhaps has never been so universal a symbol, with the exception of the serpent. moreover the cross is a sort of international feature, and is spoken of in its modifications as st. andrew's, st. george's, the maltese, the greek, the latin, etc. probably because of its extreme simplicity the ages have brought but little change in its shape, and the bauble of the jeweller of to-day is practically the same sign that the ancient egyptian painted upon the mummy cloth of his sacred dead. thus it will appear that the shadow of the cross was cast far back into the night of ages. the druids consecrated their sacred oak by cutting it into the shape of a cross, and when the natural shape of the tree was not sufficient it was pieced out as the case required. when the spaniards invaded this continent they were overcome with surprise at finding the sign of the cross everywhere in common use. it was by the community of this emblem between the two peoples that the spaniards enjoyed a less war-like reception than would otherwise have been accorded to them. that the cross was originally a phallic emblem is proven, among other things, by the origin of the so-called maltese cross, which originally was carved out of solid granite, and represented by four huge phalli springing from a common center, which were afterward changed by the knights of st. john of malta into four triangles meeting at a central globe; thus we see combined the symbol of eternal and the emblem of constantly renovating life. the reason why the maltese cross had so distinctly a phallic origin, and why the knights of st. john saw fit to make something more decent of it, is not clear, but a study of assyrian antiquities of the days of nineveh and babylon shows that it referred to the four great gods of the assyrian pantheon, and that with a due setting it signifies the sun ruling both the earth and heavens. schliemann discovered many examples of it on the vases which he exhumed from the ruins of troy. but probably the most remarkable of all crosses is that which is exceedingly common upon egyptian monuments and is known as the _crux-ansata_, that is the handled cross, which consisted of the ordinary greek _tau_ or cross, with a ring on the top. when the egyptian was asked what he meant by this sign he simply replied that it was a divine mystery, and such it has largely remained ever since. it was constantly seen in the hands of isis and osiris. in nearly the same shape the spaniards found it when they first came to this continent. the natives said that it meant "life to come." in the british museum one may see, in the assyrian galleries, effigies in stone of certain kings from whose necks are suspended sculptured maltese crosses, such as the catholics call the pectoral cross. in egypt, long before christ, the sacred ibis was represented with human hands and feet, holding the staff of isis in one hand and the cross in the other. the ancient egyptian astronomical signs of planets contained numerous crosses. saturn was represented by a cross surmounting a ram's horn; jupiter by a cross beneath a horn, venus by a cross beneath a circle (practically the crux-ansata), the earth by a cross within the circle, and mars by a circle beneath the cross; many of these signs are in use to-day. between the buddhist crosses of india and those of the roman church are remarkable resemblances; the former were frequently placed upon a calvary as is the catholic custom to-day. the cross is found among the hieroglyphics of china and upon chinese pagodas, and upon the lamps with which they illuminated their temples. upon the ancient phoenician medals were inscribed the cross, the rosary and the lamb. in england there has been for a long time the custom of eating the so-called hot-cross buns upon good friday:--this is no more than a reproduction of a cake marked with a cross which used to be duly offered to the serpent and the bull in heathen temples, as also to human idols. it was made of flour and milk, or oil, and was often eaten with much ceremony by priests and people. perhaps the most ancient of all forms of the cross is the cruciform hammer known sometimes as thor's battle ax. in this form it was venerated by the heroes of the north as a magical sign, which thwarted the power of death over those who bore it. even to-day it is employed by the women of india and certain parts of africa as indicating the possession of a taboo with which they protect their property. it has been stated that this was the mark which the prophet was commanded to impress upon the foreheads of the faithful in judah. (ezekiel : ). it is of interest also as being almost the last of the purely pagan symbols to be religiously preserved in europe long after the establishment of christianity, since to the close of the middle ages the cistercean monk wore it upon his stole. it may be seen upon the bells of many parish churches, where it was placed as a magical sign to subdue the vicious spirit of the tempest. the original cross, no matter what its form, had but one meaning; it represented creative power and eternity. in egypt, assyria and britain, in india, china and scandinavia, it was an emblem of life and immortality; upon this continent it was the sign of freedom from suffering, and everywhere it symbolized resurrection and life to come. moreover from its common combination with the yoni or female emblem, we may conclude, with inman, that the ancient cross was an emblem of the belief in a male creator and the method by which creation was initiated. next to the cross, the _tree of life_ of the egyptians furnishes perhaps the most ancient and universal symbol of immortality. the tree is probably the most generally received symbol of life, and has been regarded as the most appropriate. the fig tree especially has had the highest place in this regard. from it gods and holy men ascended to heaven; before it thousands of barren women have worshipped and made offerings; under it pious hermits have become enlightened, and by rubbing together fragments of its wood, holy fire has been drawn from heaven. an anonymous catholic writer has stated, "no religion is founded upon international depravity. searching back for the origin of life, men stopped at the earliest point to which they could trace it and exalted the reproductive organs in the symbols of the creator. the practice was at least calculated to procure respect for a side of nature liable, under an exclusively spiritual regime, to be relegated to undue contempt. * * * even moses himself fell back upon it when, yielding to a pressing emergency, he gave his sanction to serpent worship by his elevation of the brazen serpent upon a pole or cross, for all portions of this structure constituted the most universally accepted symbol of sex in the world." as perfectly consistent with the ancient doctrine that deity is both male and female take this thought from proclus, who quotes the following among other orphic verses: "jupiter is a man; jupiter is also an immortal maid;" while in the same commentary we read that "all things were contained in the womb of jupiter." in this connection it was quite customary to depict jupiter as a female, sometimes with three heads; often the figure was drawn with a serpent and was venerated under the symbol of fire. it was then called mythra and was worshipped in secret caverns. the rites of this worship were quite well known to the romans. the hermaphrodite element of religion is sex worship; gods are styled he-she; synesius gives an inscription on an egyptian deity, "thou art the father and thou art the mother; thou art the male and thou art the female." baal was of uncertain sex and his votaries usually invoked him thus, "hear us whether thou art god or goddess." heathens seem to have made their gods hermaphrodites in order to express both the generative and prolific virtue of their deities. i have myself heard one of the finest living hindoo scholars, a convert to christianity, invoke the god of the christian church both as father and as mother. the most significant and distinctive feature of nature worship certainly had to do with phallic emblems. this viewed in the light of ancient times simply represented allegorically that mysterious union of the male and female principle which seems necessary to the existence of animate beings. if, in the course of time, it sadly degenerated, we may lament the fact, while, nevertheless, not losing sight of the purity and exalted character of the original idea. of its extensive prevalence there is ample evidence, since monuments indicating such worship are spread over both continents and have been recognized in egypt, india, assyria, western europe, mexico, peru, hayti and the pacific islands. without doubt the generative act was originally considered as a solemn sacrament in honor of the creator. as knight has insisted, the indecent ideas later attached to it, paradoxical as it may seem, were the result of the more advanced civilization tending toward its decline, as we see in rome and pompeii. voltaire speaking of phallic worship says "our ideas of propriety lead us to suppose that a ceremony which appears to us so infamous could only be invented by licentiousness, but it is impossible to believe that depravity of manners would ever lead among any people to the establishment of religious ceremonies. it is probable, on the contrary, that this custom was first introduced in times of simplicity, and that the first thought was to honor a deity in the symbol of life which it gives us." the so-called jewish rite of circumcision was practiced among egyptians and phoenicians long before the birth of abraham. it had a marked religious significance, being a sign of the covenant, and was a patriarchal observance because it was always performed by the head of the family. indeed on the authority of the veda, we learn that this was the case also even among the primitive aryan people. later in the centuries, as patterson has observed, obscene methods became the principal feature of the popular superstition and were, in after times, even extended to and intermingled with gloomy rites and bloody sacrifices. the mysteries of ceres and bacchus celebrated at eleusis were probably the most celebrated of all the grecian observances. the addition of bacchus was comparatively a late one, and this name bacchus was first spelled iacchos; the first half, _iao_, being in all probability related to _jao_ which appears in jupiter or jovispater, and to the hebrew yahve, or jehovah. jao was the harvest god and consequently the god of the grape, hence his close relation to bacchus. how completely these eleusinian mysteries degenerated into bacchic orgies is of course a matter of written history. i have not yet alluded to the reverence paid to the fish, both as phallic emblem and as a christian symbol. the supposition that the reason why the fish played so large a part in early christian symbolism was because of the fact that each letter of the greek word _ichthus_ could be made the beginning of words which when fully spelled out, read jesus christ, the son of god, etc., is altogether too far-fetched; though it be true it is a scholastic trick to juggle with words in this way rather than to find for them a proper signification. among the egyptians and many other nations, the greatest reverence was paid to this animal. among the natives the rivers which contained them were esteemed more or less sacred; the common people did not feed upon them and the priests never tasted them, because of their reputed sanctity, while at times they were worshipped as real deities. cities were named after them and temples built to them. in different parts of egypt different fish were worshipped individually; the greek comedians even made fun of the egyptians because of this fact. dagon figures as the fish-god, and the female deity known as athor, in egypt, is undoubtedly the same as aphrodite of the greeks and venus of the romans, who were believed to have sprung from the sea. lucian tells us that this worship was of great antiquity; strange as this idolatry may appear, it was yet most wide-spread and included also the veneration which the egyptians, before moses, paid to the river nile. it is important to remember that nun, the name of the father of joshua, is the semitic word for fish, while the phallic character of the fish in chaldean mythology cannot be gainsaid. nim, the planet saturn, was the fish-god of berosus, and the same as the assyrian god asshur, whose name and office are strikingly similar to those of the hebrew leader joshua. corresponding to the ancient phallus or lingam, which was the masculine phallic symbol, we have the kteis or yoni as the symbol of the female principle; but an emblem of similar import is often to be met with in the shape of the shell, the fig leaf or the letter delta, as may be frequently seen from ancient coins and monuments. similar attributes were at other times expressed by a bird, using the dove or sparrow, which will at once make one think of the prominence given to the dove in the fable of noah and the ark. referring again to the fish symbol let me say that the head of proserpine is very often represented surrounded by dolphins; sometimes by pomegranates which also have a phallic significance. in fact, inman in his work on ancient faiths says of the pomegranate, "the shape of this fruit much resembles that of the gravid uterus in the female, and the abundance of seeds which it contains makes it a fitting emblem of the prolific womb of the celestial mother. its use was largely adopted in various forms of worship; it was united with bells in the adornment of the robes of the jewish high priest; it was introduced as an ornament into solomon's temple, where it was united with lilies and with the lotus." its arcane meaning is undoubtedly phallic. in fact, as inman has stated, the idea of virility was most closely interwoven with religion, though the english egyptologists have suppressed a portion of the facts in the history which they have given the world; but the practice which still obtains among certain negroes of northern africa of mutilating every male captive and slain enemy is but a continuance of the practice alluded to in the nd book of kings, : , isaiah, : , and st samuel : . frequently in sacred scripture we find allusions to the pillar as a most sacred emblem, as for example in isaiah : , "in that day there shall be an altar to the lord in the midst of the land of egypt and a pillar to the border thereof to jehovah," etc. moreover god was supposed to have appeared to his chosen people as a _pillar of fire_. nevertheless when among idolatrous nations _pillars_ were set up as a part of their rites we find them noticed in scripture as an _abomination_, as for example, deut. : , "ye shall overthrow their altars and break their pillars;" levit. : , "neither rear ye up a standing image." among the jews the pillar had much the same significance as the pyramid among the egyptians or the triangle or cone among votaries of other worships. the tower of babel must have been purely a mythical creation but in the same direction. although abraham is regarded as having emigrated from chaldea in the character of a dissenter from the religion of his country (see joshua : - ), his immediate descendants apparently had recourse to the symbols to which i have alluded. thus he erected altars and planted pillars wherever he resided, and conducted his son to the land of moriah to sacrifice him to the deity, as was done among the phoenicians. jeptha in like manner sacrificed his own daughter mizpeh, and the temple of solomon was supposed to have been built upon the site of abraham's ancient altar. jacob not only set up a pillar at the place which he called bethel but made libations; samuel worshipped at the high places at ramah, and solomon at the great stone in gibeon. it remained for hezekiah to change the entire hebrew cult. he removed the dionysiac statues and phallic pillars as well as the conical and omphallic symbols of venus and ashtaroth, broke in pieces the brazen serpent of moses and overthrew the mounds and altars. after him josiah removed the paraphernalia of sun worship and destroyed the statues and emblems of venus and adonis, ( nd kings, : - ). the greek hermes was identical with the egyptian khem, as well as with mercury and with priapus, also with the hebrew eloah; thus when jacob entered into a covenant with laban his father-in-law, a pillar was set up and a heap of stones made and a certain compact entered into; similar land marks were usual with the greeks and placed by them upon public roads. as mrs. childs has beautifully said, "other emblems deemed sacred by hindoos and worshipped in their temples have brought upon them the charge of gross indecencies. * * * if light with its grand revealings, and heat, making the earth fruitful with beauty, excited wonder and worship among the first inhabitants of our world, is it strange that they likewise regarded with reverence the great mystery of human birth? were they impure thus to regard it? or are _we_ impure that we do _not_ so regard it?" constant, in his work on roman polytheism says, "indecent rites may be practiced by religious people with the greatest purity of heart, but when incredulity has gained a footing among these peoples then those rites become the cause and pretext of the most revolting corruption." the phallic symbol was always found in temples of siva, who corresponds to baal, and was usually placed as are the most precious emblems of our christian temples to-day, in some inmost recess of the sanctuary. moreover lamps with seven branches were kept burning before it, these seven branched lamps long antedating the golden candlestick of the mosaic tabernacle. the jews by no means escaped the objective evidence of phallic worship; in ezekiel : , is a very marked allusion to the manufacture by jewish women of gold and silver phalli. as a purely phallic symbol and custom mark the significance of certain superstitions and practices even now prevalent in great britain. thus in boylase's _history of cornwall_ it is stated that there is a stone in the parish of mardon, with a hole in it fourteen inches in diameter, through which many persons creep for the relief of pains in the back and limbs, and through which children are drawn to cure them of rickets, this being a practical application of the doctrine of regeneration. in there was printed in the _london standard_ a considerable reference to passing children through clefts in trees as a curative measure for certain physical ailments. the same practice prevails in brazil and in many other places, and within the present generation it has been customary to split a young ash tree and, opening this, pass through it a child for the purpose of curing rupture or some other bodily ailment. the phallic element most certainly cannot be denied in christianity itself, since in it are many references which to the initiated are unmistakable. from the fall of man with its serpent myth and its phallic foundation to the peculiar position assigned to the virgin mary as a mother, phallic references abound. however, it should not be forgotten that whatever were the primitive ideas on which these dogmas were based, they had been lost sight of or had been received in a fresh aspect by the founders of christianity. the fish and the cross originally typified the idea of generation and later that of life, in which sense they were applied to christ. the most plainly phallic representation used in early christian iconography, is undoubtedly the _aureole_ or elliptical frame work, containing usually the figure of christ, sometimes that of mary. the nimbus also, generally circular but sometimes triangular, is of positive phallic significance, even though it contain within it the name of jehovah. the sun flowers which sometimes are made to surround the figure of st. john the evangelist are the lotus flowers of the egyptians. the divine hand with the thumb and two fingers outstretched, even though it rests on a cruciform nimbus, is a phallic emblem, and is used by the neapolitans of to-day to avert the evil eye, although it was originally a symbol of isis. indeed the virgin mary is the ancient isis, as can be most easily established, since the virgin "succeeded to her form, titles, symbols, rites and ceremonies." (king). the great image still moves in procession as when juvenal laughed at it, and her proper title is the exact translation of the sanskrit and the equivalent of the modern madonna, the lotus of isis, and the lily of the modern mary. indeed, as king has written, "it is astonishing how much of the egyptian symbolism passed over into usages of the following times." the high cap and hooked staff of the god became the bishop's mitre and crozier. the term nun is purely egyptian and bore its present meaning. the crux ansata, testifying the union of the male and female principle in the most obvious manner, and denoting fecundity and abundance, is transformed by a simple inversion into an orb surmounted by a cross, the ensign of royalty. the teaching of the church of rome regarding the virgin mary shows a remarkable resemblance to the teachings of the ancients concerning the female associate of the triune deity. in ancient times she has passed under many and diverse names; she was the virgin, conceiving and bringing forth from her own inherent power; she was the wife of nimrod; she has been known as athor, artemis, aphrodite, venus, isis, cybele, etc. as anaitis she is mother and child, appearing again as isis and horus; even in ancient mexico mother and child were worshipped. in modern times she reappears as the virgin mary and her son; she was queen of fecundity, queen of the gods, goddess of war, virgin of the zodiac, the mysterious virgin "time" from whose womb all things were born. although variously represented she has been usually pictured as a more or less nude figure carrying an infant in her arms. (inman, "ancient faiths"). inman declares without hesitation that the trinity of the ancients is unquestionably of phallic origin, and others have strenuously contended and apparently proven that the male emblem of generation in divine creation was three in one, and that the female emblem has always been the triangle or accepted symbol of trinity. sometimes two triangles have been combined forming a six-rayed star, the two together being emblematical of the union of the male and female principles producing a new figure; the triangle by itself with the point down typifies the delta or yoni through which all things come into the world. another symbol of deity among the indians was the trident, and this marks the belief in the trinity which very generally prevailed in india among the hindoos. as maurice says, "it was indeed highly proper and strictly characteristic that a three-fold deity should wield a triple scepter." upon the top of the immense pyramids of deoghur, which were truncated, and upon whose upper surface rested the circular cone--that ancient emblem of the phallus and of the sun, was found the trident scepter of the greek neptune. it is said that in india is to be found the most ancient form of trinitarian worship. in egypt it later prevailed widely, but scarcely any two states worshipped the same triad, though all triads had this in common at least that they were father, mother and son, or male and female with their progeny. in the course of time, however, the worship of the first person was lost or absorbed in the second and the same thing is prevalent among the christians of today, for many churches and institutions are dedicated to the second or third persons of the trinity but none to the first. the transition from the old to the new could not be effected in a short time and must have been an exceedingly slow process, therefore we need not be surprised to be told of the ancient worship that after its exclusion from larger places it was maintained for a long time by the inhabitants of humbler localities; hence its subsequent designation, since from being kept up in the villages, the _pagi_, its votaries, were designated _pagani_, or pagans. even now some of these ancient superstitions remain in recognizable form. the moon is supposed to exert a baneful or lucky influence according as it is first viewed; the mystic horse-shoe, which is a purely uterine symbol, is still widely employed; lucky and unlucky days are still regarded; our playing cards are indicated by phallic symbols, the spade, the triadic club, the omphallic distaff and eminence disguised as the heart and the diamonds. dionysius reappears as st. denys, or in france as st. bacchus; satan is revered as st. satur or st. swithin; the holy virgin, astraea, whose return was heralded by virgil as introducing the golden age, is now designated as the blessed virgin, queen of heaven. the mother and child are to-day in catholic countries adored as much as were ceres and bacchus, or isis and the infant horus, centuries ago. the nuns of christian to-day are the nuns of the buddhists or of the egyptian worshippers of isis, and the phallic import is not lost even in their case since they are the "brides of the savior." the libations of human blood which were formerly offered to bacchus found most tragic imitation in the sacrifices of later days. the screechings of the ancient prophets of baal, and of the egyptian worshippers, preceded the flagellations of the penitentes. even recently, during holy week in rome, devotees lash themselves until the blood runs, as did the young men in ancient rome during the lupercalia. and even yet in new mexico the indian _penitentes_ repeat the cruel flagellations and cross-bearing taught by the spanish priest, to the extent--sometimes--of an actual crucifixion. in the ancient roman catacombs are found portraits of the utensils and furniture of the ancient mysteries, and one drawing shows a woman standing before an altar offering buns to a certain god. in fact we may say there is no christian fast nor festival, procession nor sacrament, custom nor example, that do not come quite naturally from previous paganism. the creation is in fact a _human rather than a divine product_, in this sense that it was suggested to the mind of man by the existence of things, while its method was, at least at first, suggested by the operations of nature; thus man saw the living bird emerge from the egg, after a certain period of incubation, a phenomenon equivalent to actual creation as apprehended by his simple mind. incubation obviously then associated itself with creation, and this fact will explain the universality with which the egg was received as a symbol in the earlier systems of cosmogony. by a similar process creation came to be symbolized in the form of a phallus, and so the egyptians, in their refinement of these ideas, adopted as their symbol of the first great cause, a scarabaeus, indicating the great hermaphroditic unity since they believed this insect to be both male and female. further exemplification of the same underlying principle is seen in the fact that most all of the ancient deities were paired, thus we have heaven and earth, sun and moon, fire and earth, father and mother, etc. faber says,--"the ancient pagans of almost every part of the globe were wont to symbolize the world by an egg; hence this symbol is introduced into the cosmogonies of nearly all nations, and there are few persons even among those who have made mythology their study to whom the mundane egg is not perfectly familiar; it is the emblem not only of earth and life but also of the universe in its largest extent." i began this essay with the intention of demonstrating the recondite but positive connection between the symbolism of the church of to-day and the phallic and iatric cults of pre-christian centuries. (much of the subject matter contained in the previous essay (iii) may be profitably read in this connection). as a humble disciple of that aesculapius who was the reputed founder of our craft, i have felt that every genuine scholar in medicine should be familiar with these relations between the past and the present. v the relation of the grecian mysteries to the foundation of christianity ever since mentality has been an attribute of mankind, man has appreciated that he is surrounded by a vast incomprehensible mystery which ever closes in upon him, and from whose environment he may never free himself. the endeavor to solve this mystery has on one hand stimulated his reasoning power, and on the other nearly paralyzed it. having no better guidance he has in all time attributed to a great first cause powers and faculties, even shape and form, more or less human; thus from time immemorial god or the gods have been given a kingdom, a throne, some definite form, and even offspring. to him or them have been given purely human attributes, and they have been supposed to possess human passions and to be capable of love, wrath, strength, etc. in nearly all ages lightning, for instance, has been regarded as an expression of divine fury. as intelligence advanced the number of gods was reduced and their manifestations classified and studied more or less imaginatively; and so while men have always acknowledged the impossibility of explaining the great mysteries of creation and of space, they have seemed to find it necessary to create other equally inscrutable mysteries of purely human invention, such as the incarnation, the trinity, the resurrection, vicarious salvation, metempsychosis, and the like. history shows the love of mystery to be contagious as well as productive of its kind, and the origin of mystic teachings as well as of most secret societies bears out these statements. secrets, guarded by fearful oaths, personified by meaningless emblems, concealed either in language unintelligible to others, or else hidden in terms whose special meaning is known only to the initiated, made attractive by special signs, symbols, innocent rites, or barbarous observances,--all of these means were designed solely to keep men banded together for the purpose of forming a propaganda intended to perpetuate yet other mysteries in which the initiates were especially interested. since history began such associations of men have existed for most diverse ends, all having this in common, that only by this means could they secure and maintain influence and power. and so the series of pictures which represent man in this role may be regarded as a panorama, led by garlanded priests carrying images of isis or droning hymns to demeter of eleusis, or druids preparing for their human sacrifices; followed by gay and voluptuous bacchantes, succeeded by white-robed pythagoreans; next may come the suffering essenes bearing crosses, then the latin brotherhoods, followed by the german and english guilds, the stone masons with their implements, the crusader knights, those coming first having an appearance of actual humility and devotion, while those who follow are haughty and contemptuous to a degree. then would follow the black-robed penitentes and the members of the society of jesus, sanctimonious, with eyes cast down, human machines, mere tools in the hands of their superiors; the panorama continuing with a widely assorted lot of scholars, artisans and men of all conditions in various regalia, and terminated with an indistinguishable multitude of variously adorned men, some sleek and fat, others ill-conditioned, some devout and sincere, others mere jesters and knaves from every walk of life. it was most natural and to be expected that primitive man should be most profoundly impressed with the forces of nature, often terrifying and frightful, often winsome and attractive, and that he should bow himself down to the unknown cause of these manifestations. with his extremely finite mind he necessarily personified them; after having done this he proceeded to propitiate them by worship with certain forms of ritual. perhaps fire first and most of all attracted him in this way, and drew from him the earliest acts of worship, for in spite of the general views to the contrary fire is often of natural origin, and must have been known to men before they became able to produce it by their own efforts. from practical to generalized concepts was a natural step, and thus mythology had its beginnings; the earliest distinctions were as between that which is overhead, i. e. heaven, and that which is beneath, namely, the earth; these are the beginnings of all cosmogonies. next the gods were given the attributes of sex; heaven was represented as masculine, fructifying, powerful; earth as conceptive, female and gentle. by the union of these two were produced sun, moon and their progeny--the stars. later the sun became poseidon or neptune, because he appeared from and disappeared into the sea. then the imagination began to run riot, and gave rise to many individual divinities, gods and goddesses, all with human passions and attributes, mingling and propagating after human fashion, and begetting dynasties and half human races, whose doings were the subject of countless epics, dramas, myths and romances. thus time passed on and the original sense or meaning of these myths, descending slowly by oral tradition, became lost, while the myths themselves were for a long time accepted as historical facts. nevertheless in all ages there have been men who, like aristotle, cicero and plutarch, have questioned the accuracy of these statements and shown themselves intelligent and active sceptics. during all these times, however, a wily priest-craft had lived and thrived on the superstitions of the common people and the practices in which they have indulged; by these men, thus conditioned, any active doubt was regarded as subversive of the system by which they were supported, and as one not to be tolerated;--this condition pertaining not only to antiquity, since it is too significant a feature even of the early years of this twentieth century. a more or less honest though misinformed priesthood has, in all times, been in favor of the purification of the theology in vogue in their times and among their inner circles, and has in the main given the most rationalistic interpretation to the obscure things which they taught, and practised what their education and environment would permit. but in order to preserve the mysteries, to maintain them as such, and save themselves from becoming superfluous, not to say intolerable, these same mysteries have been tricked out with mysticism, symbolism of the most fantastic character, and allegory of the most bewildering kind; moreover this has often been accomplished by dramatic representations and by moralizing or demoralizing ceremonies. the countries in which these "mysteries," as they have since been known, were most commonly practised and most widely believed were egypt, chaldea and greece. the sources of the egyptian mysteries, like those of egyptian civilization, are the most difficult to discover. the nile is necessarily the basis of egyptian history, geography, activity and habits, and consequently must be also of the egyptian cult. the people who were known as egyptians invaded the land of the nile from the direction of asia, and found there a race of negro type whom they subdued and with whom they later mingled. the semites called the land misraim; the greeks finally changed the name of its great river to neilos. the country is a land of enigmas. who built those pyramids, and why? who originated the system of pictorial writing which we call the hieroglyphic? who planned those wonderful temples now either in ruins, as in upper egypt, or buried beneath the desert sands, as in lower egypt? who brought and erected those mighty blocks of stone or massive slabs from enormous distances, and handled them as we could scarcely do to-day with the best of modern machinery? in course of time two hereditary classes were formed, the priests who dominated the minds, and the warriors who controlled the bodies of the conquered people and the lower classes. the latter kept the throne of egypt occupied, while the former, having a monopoly of the knowledge of the time, prescribed for the people what they must believe, yet were very far from accepting these precepts for themselves, and in their inner circles made light of that which they preached to the despised classes without. the egyptians named their sun god re, but assigned the various attributes of the sun to different personalities; they had moreover not only gods for the whole land, but ptah was god of memphis, ammon god of thebes, etc. local deities were often constructed out of inspiring objects or from animals inhabited by spirits, and thus the fetichism of the original negro race exerted no little influence upon the higher cult of their lighter colored conquerors. worship was paid to animals not for their own sake but because of the gods who were supposed to reside within them; thus their prominent gods were represented with the head of some animal. this honor belonged not to any individual animal but of necessity to the entire species, certain representatives of which were maintained at public expense in the temples, where they were carefully guarded and waited upon by the faithful. to harm one of these animals was to be severely punished, to kill one of them was to die. conversely when a god failed in responding to the prayers of the faithful his fetich had to suffer, and the priests first threatened the animal, and if menaces were unavailing they killed the sacred beast, albeit in secret, lest the people should learn of it. as time went on there was less of zoölatry, and the sun-gods and their associates figured more largely among the cult of the people. the sun's course was not represented as that of a chariot, as among the persians and greeks, but rather as the voyage of a nile boat, upon which the god re navigated the heavens; from which it will appear that the priestly religion was making slow progress to monotheism by means of oligotheism. the secret teaching of the priests was now more and more to the effect that the gods stood not so much for themselves as for something else. during the fourth dynasty the lower egyptian city anu was known as the city of the sun, hence the greek name for the place, heliopolis. still more characteristic was the giving of the name of osiris, who figured as god of abdu, which the greeks called abydos, in upper egypt, to the god of the sunset, who was king of the lower domains and of death, brother and at the same time husband of isis, brother also of set, who slew him, and father of horus, i. e. god of the new sun, who figures after each sunset. horus fought with set, but being unable to completely destroy him left him the desert as his kingdom, while himself holding to the nile valley. this story of the gods was publicly represented in various scenes on certain holidays, but only the priests, i. e., the initiated, knew the real meaning of the representations. even the name of osiris and his abode were kept secret, and outsiders heard only of the "great god" dwelling somewhere in "the west." these were the most famous of all the old egyptian mysteries, though to them were added many others, including that of apis, the sacred bull of memphis, who served also as the symbol of the sun and of the fructifying nile; beneath his tongue was to be seen the sacred beetle, and the behavior of the great animal was supposed to be prophetic and his actions to mean oracular sayings. the sphinx again was a sun-god, his image being repeated throughout the nile region, and was always thought of as a male; the head was represented as that of some king, while the whole figure stood for the sun-god harmachis; although the sphinx later introduced into greece was always female. while the egyptians did not attribute to their numerous gods divine perfection, they nevertheless regarded religious practices as a means of currying favor with their divinities, a custom apparently still in favor. the priests believed in a sun-god as the only true deity, but not so the people; thus the priests in the various cities praised their local and tutelary god as supreme and made him identical with re, whose name they appended to the original, as for instance _amon-re_. the king, no matter where he was, prayed always to the local deity as lord of heaven and earth, yet in words always the same. at last during the eighteenth dynasty, about b. c., amenhotep iv realized that the power of the priesthood was a menace to the crown and therefore proclaimed the sun as the sole god, not in human shape, but in that of a disk. he ordered all other images of other gods associated with the sun to be destroyed; the priests of these deposed gods lost their places and estates, which latter were confiscated. but his sons-in-law who succeeded him restored the deposed monarchs. nevertheless they were marked as heretics by those priests who were reinstated in their former power. in consequence of this conflict, which was violent and prolonged, the intellectual life of egypt was paralyzed and the mystic teachings of the priests were henceforth not disturbed by any wave of progress or advance. the people again sank into a stupid and unredeemable formalism, demonism and sorcery. with the purpose of amusing them the priests furnished gorgeous sacrificial processions and festivals, while at the same time drawing them away from the true god by teaching them a worship of deceased kings and queens. they also built temples, to only the outer portion of which were the people generally admitted, while the innermost portions were guarded by these priests lest the mysteries thus protected be such no longer. they also procured the building of the ancient labyrinth, near lake moeris, of which herodotus tells us that there were fifteen hundred chambers above ground and as many more under ground, which latter were never shown except to the initiated, and which contained the remains of sacred crocodiles and of the pharaohs. the egyptian priests taught that man was made up of _body_, a material essence or the _soul_, which in the shape of a bird left the body at death, and an _immaterial spirit_ which held to the man the same relation which a god held to the animal in which he dwelt, and which at death departed from the body like the image of a dream. they taught also that, if the soul and spirit were to live on, the body should be embalmed and laid in a rock chamber, and that then the relatives must supply meat, drink, and clothing for its use. the spirit took its way to osiris and by means of a magic formula the dead would be made one with osiris; hence in the egyptian "book of the dead" the deceased was addressed as osiris with his own name added, and could now lead a happy life in the other world, which life was portrayed on the walls of the sepulchres in pictures which are still to be seen, showing how the creature comforts of this world were to be enhanced in the next. having reached the outer world, and having escaped the host of demons that threatened him on his passage, he could then revisit this earth at will in any form. the egyptian priests also taught that there was a judgment of the dead, and that new comers had to appear before osiris, with his forty-two assessors, and disclaim the commission of each one of forty-two sins; all of which was a magic formula for obtaining bliss according to their notion rather than anything intended as a true statement. the hippopotamus figured as an active agent in the book of the dead, appearing always as the accuser, when the sins and the good deeds were being weighed in the balance, while the god thot was the "attorney for the defense." all these secret doctrines of a priestcraft necessitated secret associations, at least of the higher priests, to which the king was always admitted, the only egyptian outside of the priesthood to be thus taught their secrets. this was purely for protection; having less fear of foreigners these priests often initiated distinguished men from foreign lands, greeks especially. thus orpheus, homer, lycurgus, solon, herodotus, pythagoras, plato, archimedes, and many others, received the secret doctrine. the ritual was a long and tedious but significant ceremony, taught by degrees like the masonry of to-day, and necessitated in some cases the right of circumcision; all who passed it were pledged to the most strict silence. according to diodorus the orphic mysteries were in large degree a repetition of the egyptian, while the greek legislators, philosophers and mathematicians whom i have named drew their knowledge from the same source; all of which is probably a very gross exaggeration. nevertheless it would appear from the hieroglyphic remains that high grade schools were conducted by the egyptian priests, and that foreign scholars could obtain for themselves instruction in the exact sciences of the day. only the priests, however, were able to write the hieroglyphics, at least in the earlier centuries of egyptian history. there can be no doubt but that the secret doctrine of the egyptian priests was both philosophic and religious, and was sharply distinguished from the popular belief which mistook tradition for truth; that it was monotheistic, that it rejected polytheism and zoölatry, and that the true signification of egyptian mythology was expounded in private. moreover an essential part of this mystery concerned the interpretation of myths as allegorical accounts of personified natural phenomena. for instance plutarch ("isis and osiris") writes--"when we hear of the egyptian myths of the gods, their wanderings, their dismemberment and other like incidents, we must recall the remarks already made, so as to understand that the stories told are not to be taken literally as recounting actual occurrences." without now going into the subject of the relative age of the egyptian and chaldean cults, i will remind you that the secret wisdom of one race was not excelled by that of the other. the chaldean races are undoubtedly of turanian origin, and their form of religion was peculiar to the ural-altaic stock and the turkic races, who originated the cuneiform writing. their most ancient writings represented evil spirits as coming from the desert in groups of seven, and contained formulas for exorcising them; they were presided over by the heavens, while from the higher spirits evolved gods and goddesses in countless number. upon the original ground work of chaldean ideas a semitic race built a superstructure, and the first traces of the babylonians and assyrians appeared some four thousand years b. c. their highest god was an individual whom they named baal, while the sun and moon were his images. as in egypt the priests were held in great reverence, standing next after the king, who was _ex officio_ high priest; they too had a secret doctrine withheld from the vulgar. although the chaldeans were astrologers rather than astronomers, they were yet familiar enough with the heavens to estimate astral phenomena for what they really were, instead of holding them to be gods, though they may have represented them as such to the common people. their literature contained numerous mythological poems, so obscure that to understand them a key was required, which key was only in the possession of the priests. inasmuch as abraham came from ur in chaldea, with him crept into biblical literature much of the chaldean tradition and folklore. the chaldeans had also their noah, and their deluge, in which the dove figured as in the biblical account. when the proprietor of the ark finally freed the animals he erected an altar and offered sacrifice, to which the gods gathered "like masses of flies." this story contributes but one section of the great chaldean epic in which are recounted the exploits of a hero corresponding with the nimrod of the hebrew bible, dating from the twenty-third century b. c., and reminding one forcibly of the herculean and many other myths recounted in other ancient languages. an off-shoot of the chaldean culture was that of persia, whose priestly class were far removed above the warriors and farmers that constituted the other two classes. priests married only among their own race, possessed all the knowledge, made their king _ex officio_ one of themselves, and practised itinerant teaching, but solely among their own caste. in the holy city, ragha, the priests alone held rule and no secular power prevailed; zoroaster was their founder; they were the physicians, astrologers, interpreters of dreams, scribes and officers of justice, while they impressed upon the minds of the people their exclusive duties;--to reverence the holy fire, which was their greatest mystery, to listen to the teaching of passages from the sacred book, and to perform numerous ceremonies of purification. only the initiated were taught the meaning of the strife between the good ormuzd and the evil ahriman, which was probably the alternation of day and night, and of summer and winter. in india the intense feeling with regard to caste but little altered the condition of things from that obtaining as above described, though the brahmins were further away from the other castes than in other countries where the priests came from the common people; by the latter the brahmins used to be regarded as gods and did all they could to perpetuate this feeling. by this fact alone they became a self-constituted mystic organization, being themselves pantheists while the people were idolators. though they taught pantheism in their sacred books, the second and third castes, namely the warriors and farmers, did not understand the teaching, and the fourth caste dared not read them at all. in this pantheism penitents and hermits were esteemed as above kings and heroes; but even the life of a hermit was not exacting enough for them, so they organized the idea of a soul of the universe so incomprehensible that, as they themselves acknowledged, no man could comprehend it or instruct another in it. despairing of solving the problem they finally fancied that the universe was a phantasm, and that the earth and all things earthly were nothing. they taught that through countless aeons of time men grew always worse, and were born only to suffer and die, or to do penance in the torments of an indescribable hell. naturally of all these things the people could only understand the teachings pertaining to hell and future punishment, and so the brahmins contrived for them a supreme deity, having the same name as their soul of the universe, namely brahma, whom they made the creator but playing a passive part. the people were not content, however, with an absentee passive god, but paid much more attention to vishnu the preserver, and the dreaded siva, the destroyer. after a while these three gods were united in a sort of trinity, represented by a three headed figure, but without temples or sacrifices. the brahmins continued their subtleties and divided the people into parties, like the scholiasts and disputants of the middle centuries of our present christian era, and so the hindoo religion became more and more debased. however, in the sixth century b. c., buddha, that great figure in early history, endeavored to save it by a reform which found much more encouragement in the west, and to the far east of india, than in india itself, and which has since assumed a more composite character by fusion with the religions of the surrounding countries. buddha formed first a monastic society based upon ethical doctrines, whose underlying principle was that only by a renunciation of everything can man find safety, peace and comfort. buddha's first teachings were mystic and for the initiated only; his followers believed also in reincarnation. after his death and that of those who were supposed to have lived before him, and who were expected to appear again, and who had been raised to the dignity of gods, (and after their number had been added to that of the popular hindoo gods and to the gods of the other people), then buddhism became a polytheism, and because of the variety of possible explanations and the necessary exegesis, assumed in the end the dimensions of a secret mystic doctrine. the hellenes undoubtedly did, in the beginning, worship natural forces under the form of animals, especially of serpents; later human and animal forms were united, and so they had deities with heads of animals, or with the bodies of horses like the centaurs, or with the hoofs of goats like the satyrs. but the natural greek taste for the beautiful early asserted itself; the figures of gods came by degrees to express the ideal of physical perfection, that is the human shape, and the grecian religion became essentially a worship of the beautiful, and not as among oriental religions a worship of the unnatural or hideous. they forgot the astronomic and cosmic significance of the early myths and held rather to personifications of the normal forces, of which their poets sang as of mortal heroes. they never dreamt of dogma, creed or revelation, demanded only that man honor the gods, but left it to the taste of each one how he should suitably perform his acts of reverence. it must be confessed, however, that in candor and chastity they left much to be desired; but this may be explained when we remember that their own gods set them a very poor example in these respects. still history will forgive them much because they loved much. the greeks were exceedingly liberal in their interpretations concerning the gods, while the various peoples constituting the greek race were not at all agreed as to the number and respective rank of the gods whom they worshiped. thus one would be disowned here, another there; while in one place greater honor would be paid to one, or elsewhere to another; exactly as in the case of the saints among the catholic people of to-day. they went so far in their worship of the beautiful as to divide the gods among the localities which possessed statues of them, which gods came to be regarded as distinct individuals; so that even socrates doubted whether aphrodite of the sky and aphrodite of the people were or were not the same person. furthermore in their liberality they made gods to hand for every emergency, and even worshiped the unknown gods, as st. paul long ago recorded. for the greeks these gods were neither monsters like those of egypt, india and chaldea, nor incorporeal spirits like the gods of persia and of israel, but human beings with all the human attributes. for the greeks neither jehovah existed, nor a personal devil in any form. like the greeks themselves their gods had many human failings, though in them religion survived many mythological creations like the centaurs, the satyrs, etc. these were merely folklore beings enacting parts ranging from terror to farce, and never receiving divine honors. grecian religion was, so to speak, the established church of the greek states, but came to be in time a cloak for the designs of the politicians; in which respect history has many times repeated itself. for instance socrates was made to drink his cup of hemlock on the pretext that he had apostatized from the state religion. still even in his day heresy played no part except among politicians. every one could plainly state his convictions, and aristophanes in his comedies introduced gods in the most ridiculous and compromising situations. so long as the public worship of the gods went on the state cared little for the upholding of positive or suppressing of negative beliefs. the gods were entitled to sacrifices and the people to divine aid, but they could regulate the interchange to suit themselves. the greatest public crimes were violation of temples and profanation of sacred things; one must leave the images alone even if he did not believe in the gods they represented. punishment of blasphemy was only inflicted when complaint was made. foreign gods could be introduced and worshiped at will, providing only that the customary honors were rendered to those at home. such religious freedom could naturally only exist during the minority or the absence of a priestly class. anyone could transact business with the gods or conduct sacrifices; priests were employed only in the temples, and outside of them they had neither business, influence nor privileges. their pantheism was comprehensive; the gods were everywhere, and the honor done to them consisted in invocations, votive offerings and sacrifices. the grecian religion recognized no official revelation which all were required to believe, though it did not deny the possibility of revelations at any time. their oracles were obtainable only in particular places and through duly qualified individuals. at one time in ancient greece conjuration was in vogue, but the gods and demons who indulged in it were all borrowed from foreign sources, and in time it degenerated into pure magic. the greeks, however, could not get away from the sentimental notion that belief in the gods must have an ethical side and must be subordinate to their faith; in other words that human nature was something entirely different from the divine to which it was subject. alienation from the god in which they believed led necessarily to the impulse to seek him, which was the leading motive in the institution of the grecian mysteries,--gods who were man's equals were not sufficient for the greeks. in the beginning of these mysteries they borrowed the art of the popular religion, disregarded the science of the day as well as the philosophic doctrines of their great men, held in contempt both human power and human knowledge, and devoted themselves almost entirely to self-introspection, meditation on revelation, incarnation and resurrection, and presented these things in dramatic forms and ceremonies, by which illusions they hoped to make more or less impression upon the senses. the grecian mysteries were the opposite of genuine hellenism. the true greek was cheerful, happy, clear in perception, and his gods appeared to him as do their statues to us to-day. but greek mysticism was full of gloom, symbolism and fantastic interpretations; in every way it was unhellenic and abnormal, having no fit place in their soil nor in their age. it always has been the case that sentimental, romantic or mystical dispositions find delight in the mysterious, while logical minds are unmoved by it. from the mysteries no man was excluded, save those who had shown themselves unworthy of initiation. they had their origin in the early rites of purification and atonement; the former being at first only bodily cleansing, which later took on a moral significance; while the atonement was a sort of expiation which came with the consciousness of sin and desire for forgiveness. atonement was most called for in case of blood guiltiness, and consisted largely in the sacrifices of animals, burning of incense, etc. in all the ancient mysteries these two features of purification and expiation played a great part. of them all the oldest and most celebrated were those instituted at eleusis, in attica, in honor of the goddess demeter (latin ceres), and her daughter persephone (latin proserpina). to these were added later a masculine deity, known at first as iacchos, whose name is probably related to jao, which appears in jovispater or jupiter, and to the hebrew yahve or jehovah. later, however, b was substituted for i and iacchos was made to read bacchus. jao was the harvest god, and consequently god of the grape, hence the close relation to bacchus. the greek word eleusis means _advent_, and commemorates the visit of demeter while wandering in search of her daughter,--which reminds one of the egyptian story of isis. moved by gratitude, demeter bestowed upon the people of eleusis the bread-grain and the mysteries. from this city the cult of these two deities spread over all greece and most of asia minor, passed into italy in modified form, and thus became widely accepted. the people built at eleusis a temple in pure doric style and a mystic house in which the secret festivals were held. the city was connected with athens by a sacred way, which was flanked with temples and sanctuaries, while in athens itself was a building, the eleusinion, in which a portion of the mysteries were celebrated. the buildings at eleusis were in good preservation until the fourth century a. d., when they were destroyed by the goths under alaric, and at the instigation of monkish fanatics. you will see, then, that the mysteries were widely observed in asia minor, and at a time when they must have deeply tinged the religious views and habits of a large portion of the population prior to the beginning of the christian era. the eleusinian mysteries were always under the direction of the athenian government, and the report of their celebration was always rendered to the grand council of athens. the function of the priests was an hereditary and exclusive privilege and the mysteries as a whole were under the immediate care of a sacred council. the people contented themselves mainly with honoring the gods, while in these mysteries the original endeavor was to emphasize the preëminence of the divine over the human, hence their careful guardianship by the authorities of the state. both were offshoots of pantheism, one seeing the divine in all earthly things, the other constantly searching for it there, and striving to unite with it. monotheism, that is absolute separation of the human from the divine without hope of union, is a purely oriental conception, quite incomprehensible to the greek mind. no ancient greek ever conceived of a creative deity in the egyptians' sense, nor of a vengeful jehovah like that of the hebrews. the eleusinian mysteries were most highly venerated among the greeks; so much so that during their celebration hostilities were suspended between opposing armies, while those who witnessed them uninvited or betrayed the secret teaching, or ridiculed them, were executed or banished. so late even as the period of the roman supremacy the roman emperors took an interest in maintaining these mysteries, and some of the early christian emperors, like constantius ii. and jovian, while forbidding nocturnal festivals made an exception of these. the sum of the original eleusinian doctrine is a myth based upon the rape of demeter's daughter persephone by pluto, all of which is the old story of the seasons and the changes brought about in their regular succession; and as persephone was ultimately united with bacchus but returned to the lower world for the winter, we see typified first, the fruitfulness of the sun god; secondly, the fecundity of the soil, and, thirdly, the resurrection of the body, which having been dropped like the grain into the earth was supposed to rise from it again after a similar fashion. how much this may have to do with present christian beliefs concerning the resurrection may not be easily decided. nevertheless it is of interest that the doctrine of the resurrection is of pre-christian origin and is traceable through heathen teachings, even if having no greater support than the analogy above cited. the central teaching of the mysteries was probably that of a personal immortality analogous to the return of bloom and blossom to plants in the spring. there were two festivals held at eleusis, the _lesser_ in march, when the ravished persephone came up out of the nether world into the sunlight; and the _greater_ in october when she had to follow her sullen spouse into hades again. the preliminary celebration was held at athens, and lasted six days, from october th to th. they all assembled upon that day and went down to the seashore for the rite of purification, the other days being spent in sacrificing and marching in solemn procession. on the last of them came the grand bacchic procession, when thousands of both sexes wended their way along the sacred road to eleusis; the distance to be traveled was fourteen miles, but many stops were made. arrived at eleusis the first evening was devoted to drinking the decoction called _kykeon_, by which demeter was originally comforted during her wanderings. during the first days the initiated feasted and performed their mystic rites, consisting largely of torch light processions at night. after these were over the festival became a scene of merriment and athletic competition. the fasting and solemn cup, along with others of their rites, remind one of certain christian observations perpetuated to the present day, while the severe tests to which those desiring initiation were subject have been more or less imitated by the free masons and other secret societies of mediaeval or modern times. the mystic house must have been furnished with all the resources of the stage and the most ingenious stage carpentry of that day, and makes one think of scottish rite masonry of this. the initiates regarded their chances in the next world as much better than those of the common people, as all the ancient greek writers acknowledge. in age and renown the mysteries of the cabiri, in the island of samothrace, rank next to those of eleusis. they date back to a time preceding the evolution of several of the grecian deities. these mysteries implied originally an astro-mythology, losing in time its astral meaning. in these samothracian mysteries the reproductive forces of nature figured most prominently, and through them the phallic worship of the orientals was transmitted to the greeks. into these mysteries women and even children were initiated. there were also cabirian mysteries in several other islands in the grecian archipelago, as well as on the continent. mysteries were also celebrated in the island of crete, in honor of zeus. we know but little concerning them save that in the spring time the birth of the god was commemorated in one place, and his death at another, and that amid loud noises the story of the childhood of zeus was enacted by the young. as already remarked the worship of bacchus was imported and in him was personified the influence of the sun upon the growth of the vine, while the ultimate tendency was to the glorification of life and force; in other words, it was eminently materialistic and appealed to the grosser senses. the dionysian mysteries originated in thrace, and among a people of pelasgian stock, who were naturally gloomy save when aroused, when their enthusiasm became exaggerated into transports of frenzy. in time a distinction obtained between the dionysian mysteries and the festivals. at least seven different non-mystic festivals occurred in attica during the year, which were of popular character, during which the phallic worship, if any, predominated. the fabled adventures of bacchus were enacted and the dramatic stage originated at this time and from this beginning. on the other hand, a triennial festival of dionysos was held in which women participated who, saturated with wine, lost all restraint and humility and were called _maenades_ or mad women, while their festivals were spoken of as _orgia_, whence our modern term orgies. these were conducted at night, upon the mountains, by torch-light, in mid-winter, while the women, who were clothed in skins, shunned all association with men, and drank, danced, sang and committed all sorts of excesses, finally sacrificing a bull, in honor of the god, whose flesh they devoured raw. they then raved about the death of their god and how he must be found again; all hope in rediscovering him centering in the quickening springtime. bacchus worship, bad as it was in greece, was surpassed in rome, livy even comparing the introduction of the bacchic cult into rome to a visitation of the plague. in its etruscan and roman form it became simple debauchery with a thin veneering of religion. so abominable did it become in time that in b. c., the consul albinus was compelled to suppress it. seven thousand persons were implicated at that time, and the ringleaders and a multitude of their accomplices were condemned to death or exile. the senate decreed that the bacchanalia should never again be held in rome or italy, and the places sacred to bacchic worship were to be destroyed. these orgies continued unchecked outside of italy, and in time reappeared again even upon italian soil, until the days of the roman emperors, when they reached a pitch of absolute shamelessness, as in the case of the notorious messalina. time fails in which to mention all of the other debased mysteries which were met with in the various parts of greece and italy. among them, however, must be recorded those of the mother of rhea, those of sebazios, and those of mithras, all of which were finally collected by the sect of orpheans. among the persians mithras was the light, and his worship was perhaps the purest cult that could be imagined. later it was combined with sun worship, and mithras became a sun god, and as such generally recognized among the different peoples. to the early greeks mithras was unknown, but in the later days of the roman empire his mysteries made their appearance and gained great prominence. the monuments represented a young man in the act of slaying a bull with a dagger, while all around are human and animal figures, the youth standing for the sun god who, on subduing taurus in may, begins to develop his highest power. the original beautiful rites later degenerated and became orgies. among the original rites was a form of baptism and the drinking of a potion made of meal and water. human sacrifices were in some places a part of the cult. the most disreputable of all these mysteries appear to have been the sabazian, which were made up of several earlier forms, and were mere excuses for gluttony and lewdness, while the priests of the cult were most impudent beggars. thus in time the mysteries were stripped of all the beauties of a heavenly origin and became of earth exceedingly earthy, while their initiates, lost to all shame and decency, persisted nevertheless in their sacred hypocrisy, until the hideous night of the gods disappeared before the glow of a brighter morning. after this rather long preliminary portion, we are now prepared, as otherwise we could not be, to consider the relation between the christian religion and these ancient mysteries. granting that jesus was the founder of the christian religion, we must remember, nevertheless, that he was distinctly a jew, spent his life in judea, and based his teachings upon judaism; also that long before his day judaism was thoroughly indoctrinated with greek elements, and that after his crucification the propaganda was carried on not so much by jews as by greeks and men of grecian education. between the greeks and the jews there were then, as now, the greatest differences; differences which have already been epitomized, but which may be thus summarized. on one side the closest union between god or the gods and man, most lofty sentiments and finest sense of art-form, a priesthood making no pretentions and exerting little influence, a nation sustaining active commercial relations with the world, and all imbued with eagerness to adopt whatever was novel; on the other side, the widest separation between jehovah and man, a substitution of theology and religious poetry for a study of nature, a nation ruled by priests and protected against all access from without, either by sea or caravan, adhering determinedly to the old and distrusting whatever was new. after the jews were liberated from babylon, by cyrus, they dispersed widely, living largely under persian rule, and subjected after alexander's conquest to greek influences. later they were scattered still more widely, becoming in time a mercantile race. in egypt they enjoyed greater privileges than elsewhere, and in alexandria saw the acme of grecian art and teaching. while retaining their reverence for their scriptures and for the temple at jerusalem, they quite generally adopted the language of the country, and particularly was this true of the jews living in alexandria in the third century, b. c., during which the pentateuch was translated into the septuagint, the remainder of the hebrew bible being translated about b. c. thus the greeks gained an introduction to jewish theology, while the hellenist jews learned for the first time a grecian philosophy; thus, too, among the scholars of one race was begotten a high esteem for the sages and philosophers of the other, while from the polytheism of one and the monotheism of the other was constructed a new mysticism. in this alexandrian mysticism appeared in particular and for the first time the new idea of divine revelation, which was applied by enthusiasts alike to the old testament and to the grecian writings. the jew aristobulus devised a most ingenious allegorical interpretation of the old testament, and traced to it all the wisdom of the greeks, who until recently had never heard of it; and philo, another hebrew philosopher, contemporary with christ, yet of whom he knew nothing, so construed the traditions of his race as to see in the four rivers of eden the four cardinal virtues, in the trees of paradise the lesser virtues, and in the great figures of jewish history personifications of various moral conceptions, all of which was out-doing the manner in which his grecian friends had developed their own mysteries. moreover, and this is very important, philo taught that god had made a world of ideas and according to this model had subsequently made a corporeal world; the former having for its central point the word. this statement that the _word_ was the first and the _world_ his second deed passed later into the gospel of st. john, which opens "in the beginning was the _word_, and the _word_ was god." philo founded a sect based upon the doctrine that the soul's union with the body is to be regarded as a punishment from which man should free himself, for his soul's sake. this sect was known as the essenes, who in spite of claims to the highest antiquity really were founded during the first century b. c., and who constituted in effect a secret society. they were the true socialists of their day, and held things in common. they invented a peculiar nomenclature for the angels and imposed upon their new members to keep these names secret. as a society they did not long survive the beginning of the christian era, being made superfluous by christian asceticism. the essenes, however, were of importance in this regard that they constituted the middle terms between the grecian mysteries and christianity, as they did between grecian philosophy and judaism. they were, in effect, a jewish imitation of the pythagorean league. _when with grecian mysticism were associated the nobility of socrates, the philosophy of plato, the science of aristotle and the jewish belief in one god, it is not strange that out of these elements, combined with the teachings of simple humanity enunciated by christ, there resulted a power which transformed the world._ the view that all mankind are brothers, originally jewish, was also of independent greek origin and came especially from the stoics, who had to lie dormant until some tie stronger than mere political association held men together. this tie subsequently became a religious one. polytheism had nothing more to give up; all the forces had been worked over in the god-making process, the pantheon was full, and men ridiculed alike the gods, their oracles and their priests. these same priests smiled at each other when they met, and forfeited all public respect by the lives they led. olympic wantoning and derision of the gods must necessarily have ended so soon as anything better could be substituted therefor. the long felt want was for a god of definite character, of approved prowess, with human feelings, human wrath, and human love, made after man's own likeness, who should stand for a doctrine of personal immortality, and give some promise of a hereafter. the jews, the only monotheists of the time, were prepared to furnish such a god, but he was too spiritual, and was worshiped by altogether too indefinite rites and peculiar usages. nevertheless the god of the jews was utilized for this purpose while the mystic elements with which he was to be surrounded were furnished by the ancient grecian mysteries and the doctrines of the pythagoreans and essenes. so completely did the jews and greeks mingle in egypt and in judea, that the idea prevailed among both races that the time had come for something new in the desired direction. the various secret leagues demanded a separation of the divine from the human and their subsequent reconciliation, all of which was subsequently furnished to their satisfaction in the accounts of the origin and death of christ. even during the early years of the roman empire men looked for a new kingdom in the east, and both jews and heathen awaited some divine intervention. this took more definite form in the jewish expectation of a messiah who should restore the kingdom of israel, and in their worship of jehovah, while the greeks yearned for something to take the place of their degenerate polytheism. the times were thus ready for the appearance of jesus, who lived for most of his life in obscurity, and of whose career no mention is made by contemporary greek and roman writers. this was perhaps fortunate for his followers, for none could contradict what any other might choose to say of him who rose above the bigotry of his day and people, who was executed because of his independence of the priests and scribes, and who was thus regarded as the longed for messiah. on the jewish branch of his real origin were grafted grecian mystical off-shoots of superhuman origin;--an immaculate conception, a vicarious sacrifice, a resurrection and an assumption of a portion of the god-head. thus, in what has come down to us concerning the founder of the christian church, truth and fiction mingle; the former being that which is consistent with highest laws and natural phenomena; and the latter that which conflicts with these. jesus himself never made pretentions to being more than a man. when he spoke of his father he spoke of him as equally the father of all mankind; he was the greatest moral reformer that ever lived, and he differed widely from the essenes in that he sought to save man, not by essenism and withdrawing him from the world, but by living with him and setting him a beautiful example. the ancients were firm believers in signs and portents from the heavens which were supposed to serve both for the instruction and warning of mankind. stars, meteors, the aurora, comets and sudden lights of any kind were regarded as presaging events like the birth of gods, heroes, etc. great lights were supposed to have appeared both at the conception and birth of buddha, and of crishna. the sacred writings of china tell of like events in the history of the founder of her first dynasty, yu, and of her inspired sages. the greeks and romans had similar traditions regarding the birth of aesculapius and several of the caesars. in jewish history we read that a star appeared at the birth of moses, and of abraham--for whom an unusual one appeared in the east. the prominence which a similar star in the east played in the legends of the founder of christianity and the effect which, as also in the case of moses it had upon magi, needs here no rehearsing. a very different significance was attached to eclipse or to any phenomena by which unexpected darkness is produced. the greeks held that at the deaths of prometheus, hercules, aesculapius and alexander, a great darkness overspread the earth. in roman history the earth was shadowed in darkness for six hours when romulus died. much the same thing is reported to have occurred when julius caesar died. so also one of the most conspicuous features attending the crucifixion of jesus was a similar phenomenon which is made to play a most conspicuous part, for we read in three of the gospels that "darkness spread over the earth from the sixth to the ninth hour;" although the only evangelist who claims to have been present says nothing about it, nor do historians of that time, like seneca and pliny, make note of any such event in judea. in view of all this, however, to deny the star in the east, and the hours of darkness following the crucifixion, is regarded by many pious people as rank blasphemy or heresy of the deepest dye. the parables in which jesus taught so unmistakably were similes adapted to the simple comprehension of his people, who likewise often made use of such figurative language. those who followed him used this form of speech much more freely, and quickly erected his personality into the dignity of a god, magnified him and his mission, and soon saw him generally accepted as the equivalent of the messiah, for whom greeks and jews alike had longed. his alleged miracles were unnecessary, in addition to being contradictory to all known natural sequences, because the simple and sublime truths which he preached could not be made more expressive by any such help. in the light of to-day they seem unnecessary juggleries, quite unworthy of so grand a character. they probably represent the effort of his followers, who portrayed his life and personality in colors which would make them more generally acceptable. of such transformations as that by which the son of a carpenter was made to appear of divine origin history has no lack. the grecian polytheism furnished numerous illustrations; apollo appeared on earth as a shepherd, herakles, the son of zeus, and romulus (who was also the son of a _virgin_ and of _mars_), were founders of cities, states and nations. the jewish accounts of creation stated that god walked the earth, and why not in human form? why also should not the founder of a religion be the son of god and of a virgin? the rest of the beautiful story upon which we were all brought up must be regarded as fanciful embellishment, beautiful in its imagery, but having no foundation in fact or scientific possibility. the annunciation, the star in the east, the slaughter of the innocents, etc., can only be regarded in this light. the stories of the miracles are probably distinctively purposive. in the grecian mysteries demeter and dionysos figured as givers of bread and wine; jesus, too, was made lord and giver of these two sacred viands, all of which appears in his changing water into wine, multiplying the loaves, and later in the institution of the last supper, at which bread and wine became a part of these christian mysteries which are still widely perpetuated. in his quieting the storm, walking upon the water, finding the penny in the fishes' mouth, and the draught of fishes, are portrayed his power over the forces of nature and lower forms of life. his power over disease was personified by stories of healing paralytics, lepers, blind, deaf and dumb people, casting out devils, and even by restoring the dead to life. apparitions were common according to the history of his life, as of the holy spirit in form of a dove, his encounter with satan, the appearance of moses and elias, etc. the ancient tendency to personify appears again in the form of satan or a personal devil, namely the power of evil, while in the transfiguration is personified the superiority of the new law over the old. finally the miracles attending his last days, the darkening of the sun, the rending of the veil and the resurrection, were all occurrences which it would be impossible to omit from the closing scenes in the life of anyone who has figured as a god. they betoken the mourning of nature, while the ascension personified the belief in an everlasting redeemer and the individual immortality of those who believed in him. in thus epitomizing the events in the life of jesus upon which, from his day until now, men have laid such fearful stress, and upon whose acceptance the present life as well as the future of all men has been conditioned, i should be far from doing justice to myself should i fail to point out my own attitude in the matter. i hold it true that the self-evident truth, as well as the wonderful sublimity of christ's teachings, become apparent upon the study of the same, and are weakened rather than strengthened by insistence upon all that is supernatural, mysterious and inconceivable in the generally accepted account of his life and labor. my mind is freed from the necessity for the mysterious which the graeco-jewish people demanded, and which the superstitious people of to-day still demand, and i prefer to let him stand for what he seems to me to be,--_the greatest moralist and teacher of all time_, rather than to surround him with a veil of imagery and with statements so impossible of belief as to make it impossible to accept one part without accepting them all. the jews already had doctrines of unity of god and love for others; the grecian philosophy antedated him in insisting upon elevation of life to a higher plane than that of mere gratification of the senses, and everywhere his predecessors and contemporaries could furnish miracles by the hundred, but in force, grandeur and simplicity of his teachings, in his comprehensive humanity, in his directness of appeal, in his condemnations of those who departed from the model which he set, he never has had and probably never will have an equal. in his self-abasement and love for others he was as irresistible as have been these principles in civilizing and, in this sense, christianizing the world. in jesus' own day there was no hair-splitting theology; devotion, love of fellow-men, charity, repentance, these were all that were needed. but the beautiful simplicity of his teaching was lost with the death of his first disciples. the system was esteemed too simple, too unadorned to appeal to the people used to something quite the contrary. and so stephen the martyr, who was of grecian education, was stoned because he demanded a repudiation of certain jewish teachings, although the congregation at antioch adopted his views. paul the great leader was an epileptic and had frequent fits and visions, and these made a strong impression, not only on himself but on his followers. on the creations of his imagination the doctrine of the resurrection is largely based. he set up the god-man jesus as the counterpart of the first man adam, who represented sin and death, and who was to be crucified and born anew in christ. between paul, the great gentile christian, and peter, the jewish christian, the church was quickly split into two parties; these two soon subdividing into others, and among them all arose the new testament literature, whose alexandrine dialect establishes the influence of greek education. thus did christianity develop out of the secret associations of the ancient world. the early christians themselves constituted, at least while under persecution, a sort of secret society. their worship was mystical, but not because jesus so taught;--rather because of their environment and traditions. the practice of baptism, the last supper and the doctrines of incarnation and resurrection have been as certainly added to the nazarene's sublime code of ethics as to them in turn, in the centuries to follow, were added every conceivable notion, mystery and stupid absurdity which the diseased minds of men could imagine, and which have been the cause of more departure from christ's original teachings, and of more strife and bloodshed than any other feature in the history of mankind. indeed it is one of the greatest inconsistencies of history that the doctrines of love, unity and peace, taught by the founder of christianity, should have been the greatest of all factors to rend mankind apart, beget feelings of hatred, and result in the death, from this cause, of millions of men such as jesus himself most loved. vi the knights hospitaller of st. john of jerusalem the three great militant, mendicant and monastic orders of the middle ages were the knights hospitaller of st. john, the knights templar, and the teutonic order. in addition were numerous others, smaller, shorter lived, less important in every respect, scarcely mentioned in even the larger histories, like the knights of calatrava, alcantara, santiago de compostella, and the english knights of the holy sepulchre. these orders were the immediate as well as the indirect outgrowth of mediaeval conditions for which both the church and the state were responsible. the secret tenets of the christians had been made public, and those who held to them had for some time ceased to be a secret society; their faith was now a part of that church which was essentially the state, and which occupied a goodly part of europe. sad to say the church was rent, and the state suffered accordingly from constant strife between sects and parties, who contested, even to the death, over interpretations to be given to the scriptures, and the matter of creeds. thus while discussing at point of the sword whether the soul is to be saved by good works, or by grace of god, they disregarded the very essence of the simple teachings of jesus, and brought upon theology, even in those days, the contempt and ridicule of the liberal minded and the non-believer, so that even to-day it suffers because of the unfortunate light in which it was made to appear. that theology should lead to war is the antithesis of the christian doctrine, yet no wars have been so fierce and bloody as those waged in "spreading the cross" and propagating a misinterpreted gospel. and so theology suffered doubly from the monks who perverted it, and from the knights and the state that inculcated it with fire and sword. for a thousand years nothing of importance was added to human knowledge, and mental confusion reigned supreme. at the end of this period all the original teachings of christ were forgotten, and after passing through the hands and tongues of fanatics or deluded and ignorant men, christianity was left with the semblance of a monotheistic basis on which had been crudely built up certain doctrines borrowed from egyptian and grecian sources, among which may be mentioned the trinity, immaculate conception, resurrection and ascension, as well as certain practices like that of the lord's supper, plainly borrowed from pagan customs. there was in all this so much to challenge belief, and so much at first unacceptable to minds not trained to believe it, that, in order to be effective their propaganda had to be carried on with the sword. moreover to the christian mystic, anxious to unify himself with the hidden, unknown deity the idea of moslem unbelievers in possession of the high places which they regarded with such reverence, was simply intolerable and repugnant beyond description. hence the crusades undertaken in order to regain the sepulchre; in which by papal decree the monks joined the knights, and under command of emperors and the greatest generals of their day, made temporary conquest of the holy land, founding the kingdom of jerusalem. the immediate outcome of the general movement was that alliance, made wise and even necessary, when theology and chivalry joined hands, from which resulted the foundation of such orders as those mentioned at the beginning of this paper. these allies of which they were composed, all took the monastic vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, and for a time kept them, until the possession of power and the acquisition of wealth brought their inevitably accompanying temptations. each of these orders and many of the others passed through the successive stages of poverty, with meekness and constant benefaction, succeeded sooner or later by temporal aggrandizement, selfishness, greed, and rapacity, with all the crimes in the calendar, and the inevitable ultimate downfall. of them all the hospital knights bore by all means the least smirched record, on which account, partly, as well as because of their most prominent purpose, i. e., their work among the sick, wounded and distressed, i deem their careers worthy of more particular study. for this purpose we may quickly dismiss the teutonic knights from present consideration, simply reminding you that they were really the founders of modern prussia. they had their own origin in the commendable public spirit of the merchants of lübeck and bremen, who during the siege of acre made tents out of the sails of their ships, in which their wounded countrymen might be nursed and attended. most of their active service against the saracens was in spain. of the knights templar a little must be said here. about two knights, hugo (or hugh) of payens, and godfrey of st. omers, associated with themselves six other french knights in a league of military character, styling themselves "poor knights of christ," and pledged themselves to keep safe for pilgrims the highways of the holy land. they prospered and grew, and came into the favor of baldwin i, king of that kingdom of jerusalem already mentioned. inasmuch as their monastery occupied a part of the site of solomon's temple of old they were known as _templars_. at the synod of troyes, in , they were recognized as a regular order, and received monastic rules and habits, with a special banner. they were also known as "poor companions of the temple of jerusalem," a name which did not very long befit them. at first, like the hospital knights, they begged their food, fasted, kept vows, worshipped diligently, and cared for the poor and infirm. beard and hair were cropped short, the chase was forbidden, and they took the usual vows of chastity. but as they acquired property they forgot the simple life and habit, as well as their vows of obedience and chastity, while their pledge to protect the pilgrim on his way became in time a farce, not alone through their indifference and negligence, but through their treasonable dealings with the saracens, and even treacherous surrender of their strongholds. thus, whatever their pristine purpose, lucre and power became the later objects of their strife and the impelling motives of their lives. by the accession of so-called "affiliated members" they avoided the rule of celibacy, and admitted married knights and those engaged to be married. their grand masters in time ranked next after popes and monarchs. while the former favored them it was mainly because they feared them. they were exempt from all episcopal jurisdiction, and subject only to the pope. so rich and powerful did they become that at the time of their suppression they controlled an empire of five provinces in the east and sixteen in the west, while the order possessed some , houses. they aimed to make all christendom dependent upon themselves, with only the pope as their nominal head. of their personal bravery, which was usually impeccable, of their affluence and intolerable effrontery, and of many of their traits and characteristics, one may form an excellent idea by reading _ivanhoe_, where these seem to be quite faithfully depicted. it is, to me i confess, just a little amusing as well as saddening to see the men, who name their secret masonic associations after the founders of the order, displaying and imitating, at least in public where alone they can be judged by outsiders, only those features of templar knighthood which marked the period of their decadence or their downfall. as imitations they may be historically accurate, but as worthy of emulation, or even of imitation such displays are matters of questionable taste, at least, to those who read medieval history. the templars in their days of splendor and later downfall, were neither pious, nor learned, nor good christians. many of their secret doctrines were of heretical origin, taken from the waldenses or the albigenses, and they cared far more for their own possessions than for the holy land. they promulgated the shameful excuse that god evidently willed that the saracen should win; that the defects of the crusaders were evidently according to his decision, and that therefore they were released from their vows, and could return to europe, where indeed they rested--after their fashion,--from their labors, and passed their time in doing everything their founders had vowed not to do. but this is not intended to be an epitome of templar history; rather a brief statement of the reasons why they went proudly and sometimes stoically to their final downfall, and why the hospital order, though not always keeping up to its earlier standards, nevertheless so far eclipsed them, as to become the recipients of very much of the templars' enormous resources and wealth, being thought worthy to be thus entrusted. and so it happened that, in , philip of france had all the templars in france arrested and their property sequestrated. this led to a tripartite dispute in which were involved the templars, the pope and the king. in fifty-four templar knights were burned alive in paris. at last the pope, to prevent their property from falling into secular hands, made over to the hospitallers most of the templar estates, excepting however those in spain. the grand master molay and another templar were burned to death on an island in the seine. so much then in brief, for purposes of contrast. now to the avowed subject of this paper. during the seventeenth century there rose a controversy as to the foundation of a hospital already in existence in jerusalem, named after the asmorean prince john hyrcanus, (the son and successor of simon maccabaeus, who restored the independence of judea and founded a monarchy over which his descendants reigned till the accession of herod. he died b. c.). this was at a time when the pious merchants of amalfi planned a refuge for their pilgrims. it was this john whom many suppose to have been the patron of the order, though it seems now clearly established that the first sponsor or the first st. john, in this connection, was the greek patriarch john surnamed eleëmon, or the charitable, because of his practical philanthropy. (see "st. john the almsgiver," rev. h. t. f. duckworth, ). but by the time the crusaders, under godfrey of bouillon, had taken jerusalem from the saracens, st. john baptist seems to have become the acknowledged patron saint of the hospital, his image being worn by epileptic patients, and being later adopted as the regular badge for those engaged in hospital work. but this term _hospital_ must not be regarded in its present acceptance; it was used in a broader sense to imply any house of refuge, even from wild animals; in fact a _hospice_. this particular hospice seems to have been erected on the ruins of one founded by st. gregory in , where it is known that the french benedictines worked. two centuries later charlemagne had claimed the title of protector of the pilgrims. ("de prime origine hospitaliorum," by la roulx. paris. ). this institution was naturally located in close proximity to the most sacred places, which early christian traditions made such to the pilgrims who came from all over western europe. it was in existence in . it was made doubly necessary by not only the hardships of travel, but by the ill usage of the natives, at a time when the holy city was in the hands of the moslems, who demanded an entrance fee often beyond the pilgrims' means. thus subjected to indignities indescribable, robbed often before their arrival, these misguided pilgrims often died of want, or returned with their primary pious object unattained. had it not been for one gerard, the first administrator of the hospice, their hardships had been even greater. the buildings of the order, at first meagre, were finally enlarged to cover a square, nearly ft. on each side, with one side on the via dolorosa and another fronting the bazaar, and all a little south of the church of the holy sepulchre. nearby were other churches and hospices. this was the arrangement before the establishment of the kingdom of jerusalem in . during the next century the order, under raymond du puy, had enlarged the church of st. john eleëmon into the conventual church of st. john baptist, while along the south of the square above mentioned ran an excellent building, the hospital of st. john. when saladin recaptured jerusalem, in , this church was converted by the turks into a mad-house, known as the "muristan," this being finally ceded to germany in . from the new kingdom of jerusalem the hospitallers obtained a constitution, and the gerard above mentioned was made their first "master." he was succeeded in by du puy, while baldwin ii was the latin king of jerusalem. the hospital had been recognized by the archbishop of caesarea in , and had widely extended its sphere of usefulness. it was king baldwin who was anxious to stamp upon the order a military character, similar to that conferred upon the order of the temple in . this was natural since the kingdom was isolated, surrounded by fanatic enemies and always beset by and in danger from them. thus the necessities of the times and the environment made it requisite that all who were able should bear arms, and coöperate for mutual defence. thus it came about that the order was divided into three divisions, the first in rank being the knights of justice, each of whom must be of noble rank or birth, and have received the accolade of knighthood from secular authority. the second division comprised the ecclesiastics, who were later divided into two grades, the conventual chaplains, who were assigned to duty at headquarters, and the priests of obedience who served other priories and commanderies in various parts of europe. the third grade were the serving brothers, also divided into the servants at arms or esquires, and the servants at office. the servants at arms attended the knights of justice as their esquires, and might eventually become eligible to the first division. the servants at office were little if anything more than menials or domestics. even these latter, however, possessed certain privileges and emoluments which made admission to this grade advantageous to men of humble origin and faculties. the dress of the order was a black robe with cowl, having a white linen cross of eight points over the left breast, and was at first worn by all. later, under pope alexander iv, the fighting knights wore their white crosses upon a ground gules. the first recorded appearance of a body of hospitaller knights in actual war was at antioch, in , while the complete military constitution of the order of st. john was achieved in . during the balance of the existence of the kingdom of jerusalem then, two colleges or companies of military monastic knights existed, side by side, in the holy land, the "chief props of a tottering throne." (bedford). between these rival bodies arose in time such jealousy, and within them such intrigues,--aggravated always by the animosities of the ordinary clergy, who took offense at the patronage bestowed upon the orders by the popes, aggravated also by similar difficulties on the part of the knights of the teutonic order and that of st. lazarus,--that the best interests of the kingdom and of the church suffered as much from intestine dangers as from those arising from the moslems surrounding them. nevertheless it may be said that the order of the hospital never lost sight of its primary purposes, and never disgraced itself by the treasonable and treacherous dealings, and correspondence with enemies which disgraced not a few members of other and rival christian organizations. the result of such disreputable actions lead--as ever--to disunion and final disruption, and this to final capitulation and surrender of jerusalem, in . this meant the abandonment not only of their old home, but of their usefulness there. the saracens occupied their buildings and premises from that time till ruin overtook them. thus rudely compelled to emigrate the order moved the same year ( ) to the town of margat, where was also a castle of the same name. but the work in jerusalem had not been abruptly discontinued, since sultan saladin, in evidence of his esteem, allowed them possession of their hospital for another year, in order that their charitable work should not be abruptly interrupted, and even made them liberal donations. when during the third crusade, in which richard coeur de lion bore so valiant a part, ptolemais was captured, it was then and there that the order established its headquarters, in , wherefore the town became named st. jean d'acre. here they abode nearly a century. various other towns in palestine held out for a time against the turks, e. g., carac, margat, castel blanco and antioch, and in spite of the intense rivalry between the orders, thierry, the grand master of the templars, reported in a letter to king henry ii, that the hospitallers bore themselves even with fervor and the greatest bravery, and praised the aid they gave in the capture of the turkish fleet, at tyre, when seventeen christian galleys manned by friars, and ten sicilian vessels commanded by general margarit, a catalan, defeated the infidels, and captured their admiral and eight emirs, with eleven ships, the rest being run aground, where saladin later burned them, to keep them from falling into christian hands. (bedford). notwithstanding all this, however, the joint occupation of acre with the templars had a bad effect on both orders, who turned not only to luxury and license, but their swords against each other. acre was at this time a most cosmopolitan city; here mingled at least seventeen different nationalities and languages, each occupying its own part of the city, so that in time extravagance and lust flourished to the last degree of demoralization. the hospitallers were at this time far more wealthy than the templars, who were exceedingly jealous thereof, and both at margat and still worse at acre this jealousy was exhibited in many bloody affairs. weakened thus by this intestine strife they were in reverse proportion strengthened. the pope who had defended them as against the scathing censure of emperor frederick, found need, in , to accuse the knights--alike of both orders--of sheltering loose women within their precincts, of owning individual property, both of these in violation of their vows of chastity and poverty, and of treacherously assisting the enemy. yet many bore witness to the actual good they accomplished, even at this time. in pope alexander, bewailing the lack of a more distinctive dress, permitted the decree that the fighting knights might wear black mantles, while in war they were permitted to wear red surcoats, with a white cross. later it was permitted to women to join the order, and many ladies of high degree took advantage of the permission, rivalling in religious zeal and in charitable deeds the most sanctified of the brethren. as the king of hungary wrote, at one time, after visiting some of their houses, "in a word the knights of st. john are employed, sometimes like mary in contemplation, and sometimes like martha in action, and this noble militia consecrate their days either in their infirmaries or else in engagements against the enemies of the cross." the deterioration of acre was not so great as to make cowards of our knights, however, and with the continued and aggressive siege laid by the saracens against that city the hospitallers and the templars finally made common cause, each endeavoring to outdo the other in deeds of bravery and daring. though defeated again and again, the moslem ranks were renewed by fresh soldiers, while the militant and other monks imprisoned within the city saw their combined members steadily diminish. at last it remained for john villiers, grand master, with his few surviving fighters, to carve their way to their boats, leaving no combatants behind them, and then to embark in their galleys to seek a harbor of refuge in the island of cyprus. _cyprus and rhodes._ settled in cyprus, the knights renewed their zeal and their resources. here they began to build that fleet of galleys which, increased later in rhodes, became most formidable. when they and the templars left forever the holy land the templars took the position that their vow to protect the holy places was now either fulfilled or at least at an end, and they distributed themselves among their numerous preceptories all over europe, where they made themselves _personae non gratae_ to their civil rulers, because of their own real power, their oriental ostentation, and their secularization and distasteful entrance into and interference with the social and political life and customs of their new environment. things went from bad to worse, public feeling was more and more aroused, and their extermination was only a matter of time. finally pope clement v and king phillip le bel undertook this task with barbarous ruthlessness. kings, nobility and the people joined hands in the common task. the templars had acquired various properties, by capture, by bequest, and in every lawful and unlawful manner, which yielded in the aggregate relatively enormous revenues, too strong a temptation for needy secular rulers to resist. the pope had at last to intervene in order to prevent the total secularization of all this great spoil, and thus it happened that no small proportion of it was, after its sequestration, allotted to the order of st. john, whose grand masters and knights had not forgotten nor abandoned their original vows and purposes, and who held that the inviolacy of their obligations required their continuous residence in some such oriental city as rhodes. and here we may part company, as did they, only quite peacefully, with the templar knights. driven from europe they made their last stand in great britain, and of their lives and deeds there we have no more readable nor interesting historical account than scott has given us in ivanhoe. any further allusion to them here will be most casual. they offer the conventional picture, only _in extenso_, of original poverty and self-abnegation, coupled with devotion and valor, changed to arrogance, treason, abandonment of purpose, unbridled lawlessness leading to crime and cruelty, all brought about because of affluence, acquired power, selfishness, cupidity and every debasing human weakness. small wonder then, that they could be no longer tolerated in christendom. so turn we again to the hospitallers, now made rich and powerful at the expense of their old rivals and at last enemies. it had soon been made evident that cyprus did not meet their wants and necessities. its king was not over friendly, and they sought further. their gaze fixed on the island of rhodes, which possessed a fertile soil, a city with an excellent harbor, not too far from the main land, i. e. not too isolated, which was under the--by that time merely nominal--suzerainty of the emperor of the eastern or greek empire. after several futile efforts they at last, in , under the twenty-fourth grand master villaret, captured the island, where under their ceaseless energy both hospitals and forts were built. to rhodes were brought also christian refugees from the various turkish provinces, and thus their numbers were rapidly strengthened. their fleet, already begun (_vide supra_) was greatly increased, and with it they had many a conflict with the turkish corsairs, whose inroads they practically checked. about the beginning of the fourteenth century changes had been made in the order, which was now divided into langues, or arranged according to nationalities, yet without materially altering the original division into the three classes (knights, chaplains and serving brothers). in this way the order was apportioned between seven nations or languages, provence, auvergne, france, italy, aragon, england and germany. finally under pressure from spain the langue of aragon was divided into two, aragon and castile, the latter including portugal. the various dignities and offices were divided among these langues, whose principals became a kind of privy council to the grand master, and were known as conventual bailiffs. they were given different names in each country; thus the grand commander of the english langue was known as the turcopolier, of france the grand hospitaller, of italy the admiral, etc. as the new fortifications arose around the city of rhodes, each was placed in charge of one of these langues or divisions, while each erected quarters for its own men. it did not follow, however, that every member of each langue came from the country which it represented. while scotland was an independent kingdom it contributed to the turcopolier, while many scotchmen belonged to the french or even the other langues. at this time the inhabitants of the city of rhodes consisted largely of christian refugees, who owed their security, even their lives, to the fact that the knights hospitaller still adhered to their primary objects, the liberation of the captive and giving assistance to the sick and distressed. this they afforded through their fleet and their hospices. when smyrna nearly fell into the hands of timour the tartar, about the middle of the fourteenth century, the order strengthened their harbor by erecting a new fort, which they named budrum (corrupted from petros-a rock), where any christian escaping from slavery found shelter. here was also kept a remarkable breed of dogs, who were trained not only as watch dogs but to render services similar to those afforded by the alpine dogs of st. bernard. as time went on the sultans became more and more jealous of the naval power possessed by the order. with the fall of the eastern empire and the final retaking of constantinople by mahomet ii, in (see "prince of india"), it was made evident that danger to the order from this direction was rapidly increasing. this became so urgent that in , after mahomet had taken the island of negropont, the grand master commanded that all members of the order should repair at once to rhodes. in d'aubusson began the most active measures for the defense of the place, and thus was ready for the attack, in may, , when , men in ships, landed on the island coast. in this siege no small part was played by renegade traitors, the most prominent being one george frapant, a german, whom the grand master finally hung in july. in the last sorties which terminated this siege deeds of the greatest bravery were performed; yet here we can only commemorate the fact that the turks were summarily defeated, leaving , corpses on the ground after the last decisive attack. the losses of the besieged were small as compared with those suffered by the turks. later in the same year the island suffered from a severe earthquake. mahomet died not long after this, was succeeded by his son bo-jazet who made truce with the order, presenting them with a relic of supposedly inestimable value, namely the hand of st. john, which the turks had taken at constantinople. years of comparative quietude succeeded until in the following century, in , solyman the magnificent landed upon the island in july, with , soldiers and , pioneers. again ensued all the horrors of a siege. the defenders did their part so bravely that the sultan publicly disgraced his generals. but the inevitable famine wrought consequent disaffection on the part of the native population, who clamored for capitulation, and sought treasonable terms therefor, because of which one of the most prominent of them was tried, found guilty and executed. finally under stress of circumstances no longer endurable grand master adam agreed to honorable surrender, and on the first of january, , the hospitaller knights relinquished the island, the sultan himself speaking in terms of extravagant praise of their heroism, while at the same time he scathingly censured the christian monarchs of europe who had failed to come to their relief. thus after two hundred and twenty years of occupation and rule of the island of rhodes, some , knights and other members of the order, and natives, left it to take abode for a short time in their priory at messina. driven from here by plague, they moved on to viterbo, while their grand master travelled in search of a new home. _malta._ malta had been early proposed for this purpose, and offered by charles v, while many wishes turned to the city of modon, in greece. after seven years of wandering and indecision grand master l'isle adam accepted malta as the best solution of the difficulty. thither the order now removed, and there adam died in the castle of st. angelo, erected by the norman count roger of sicily, still active in improving its existing defences. in the order lost nearly all of its fleet in consequence of a violent hurricane, which accident for a while laid the island open to piratical attacks, especially of a corsair named dragut; but he did little damage, save that with the knowledge of the island and its defences thus gained he persuaded solyman to undertake another attempt to crush the order, the latter being justly furious because some galleys belonging to the order had captured a ship that happened to be loaded with rich valuables belonging to the ladies of his harem. therefore war was again declared in . the turkish fleet was made up of galleys with smaller boats, and carried the janissaries and , other soldiers, against whom the grand master could only oppose some , men, of whom, however, were desperate men, released from the galleys of the enemy, and eager for vengeance. on may twenty-fourth the siege of st. elmo was in reality begun by a fierce bombardment, the walls being soon battered, and the garrison forced to take shelter in excavations made in the solid rock. and now the besiegers' force was augmented by the arrival of dragut, in those days the dreaded corsair of the sea, who came with thirteen more ships and , more men. june thirteenth saw a desperate conflict when, after six hours of fierce fighting and the loss of only men, the besiegers were repulsed. soon after this dragut was killed. again on june twenty-third another general attack was repulsed, though the garrison was thereby reduced to men. even this small force, many crippled and maimed, repulsed the first onslaught of the turks, but had later to sell their lives as dearly as they could. the turkish general mustapha took barbarous revenge, even on the corpses of the knights which he decapitated and then tied to planks that they might float past st. angelo. la vallette retaliated by beheading some of his captives and firing their heads at the turks from his cannon. at this juncture the garrison was reinforced by the arrival of men and knights from sicily. refusing all opportunities to surrender and all parley under flags of truce, grand master la vallette built new defences and strengthened the old, in spite of a fierce july sun. meanwhile the turks, also reinforced, prepared for still more desperate sorties, selecting for the land attack men who knew not how to swim, in order that they might fight the more fiercely, and drawing off the boats as soon as their loads were emptied, so that no retreat could be possible. one thousand janissaries were embarked in ten large barges, but nine of these were sunk by the artillery fire from the forts. on the other side of the defences a large attacking column was completely routed. the loss to the turks this day was , men, that of the garrison . and so the siege went on; attack after attack, with but small success to the investing army. but the heroic defenders suffered increasingly under the constant strain, and both armies were exhausted, the turks losing men from dysentery alone. to such an extent was this true that when the turkish officers drove their soldiers to the charge by blows of their own swords, it was but necessary to cut down those who led the charges, when the rest would turn and fly. and now came other long expected reinforcements from sicily, when a fleet landed , men and returned for , more. being now quite unequal to the continuation of the siege the turks evacuated all the ground they had gained, and finally made a hasty and complete flight, harassed in every way, in their endeavors to escape, by the now victorious garrison. the losses during the period of siege, with its numerous engagements, were estimated at some , turks, and , men and knights of the order. is it strange that by contributions from all over christian europe there was soon built up a town bearing the name of valetta, thus commemorating the heroism and military prowess of the order's grand master la valette, as well as the "glorious issue" of the struggle for malta, and the confirmation of the order as a sovereign independent community? thus secured from further probable struggle this city of valetta acquired a certain degree of glory, later even of magnificence. from all parts of europe, wherever any commandery of the order was maintained, was paid tribute to the grand master, as may be adjudged even to-day, long after french rapacity had robbed the city of many of its treasures. individual knights vied with each other in their gifts, and palaces arose wherein were received the envoys and even ambassadors of foreign courts. the fleet was constantly busied in clearing the mediterranean of moslem and other pirates, and many christians were released from the galleys in which they had been chained to the oars. in this restoration the english langue took a rather small part, and their officers and members had often to be rebuked or punished for insubordination or worse crimes. the reformation in england interfered, and furnished some reason for their diminishing zeal. the galleys of the order became more and more like pleasure boats, and many of their cruises were in effect pleasure excursions. later in their decadence their adventures became more like piratical incursions, until, under letters of marque issued by a decadent admiralty, the malta privateer was equivalent to the pirate. (maroyat). these facts were scarcely offset by that other, that the last fleet of the order, which left valetta in , was sent to the relief of earthquake sufferers in sicily. with regard to their activities in the matter of succoring the sick let it be noted that the knights found on their arrival at malta a hospital or hospice already existing. in the buildings of a nunnery still standing may be seen the gateway of their own first hospital. in they erected one much larger, which had a passageway connected with the waterfront, so that patients could be brought directly from the ships. this building in some part still remains in use as a military hospital. its great ward is feet in length, and feet high, divided by partitions feet in height. in its best days patients were served from silver utensils. it was under the charge of the regent of the french knights, who had as his staff five doctors and three apothecaries. other knights and servants acted as male nurses. the knights were luxuriously cared for, and beds were always in reserve for those returning from expeditions who might need them. in , only a year before the disintegration of the order began, the patients numbered from to . there existed also a hospital for women, with beds, and a foundling hospital where some fifty waifs were sheltered. a curious bit of history connecting the middle ages with the more recent past relates to the hospital interests of the order. the nobles of dauphigny had founded a fraternity of hospitallers for the relief of sufferers from st. anthony's fire (erysipelas), which was erected into the regular antoine order in . about years later, or to be exact in , a compact was made by which the order of st. john took over their property, under certain conditions, which involved, among other considerations, a larger expenditure. the antonine estates, in france and savoy, were confiscated in , thus entailing a tremendous loss to the order, so great, in fact that the valetta treasury became insolvent. (bedford). from this time we may date the rapid downfall of the order. malcontents and traitors gained the supremacy, and in , after treacherous negotiations, napoleon landed part of his army in malta, and valetta surrendered. thus, as bartlett says, "ignominiously came to a close, on june th, , the once illustrious order of st. john of jerusalem, having subsisted for more than years." at this time it consisted of enrolled knights, and a military force of some , men. napoleon expressed his surprise at the strength of the fortifications, furnished them with one thousand cannon, left a garrison of , men, took with him the disciplined soldiers he found there, rifled the island of its treasures, its art work and its bullion, and sailed for egypt. several of the traitor knights were put to death by the infuriated populace, whose anger was not appeased by nelson's victory at aboukir--the battle of the nile--but took form in open insurrection. the french garrison finally took refuge in the old fortifications, where they withstood for two years a siege by the combined insurgents and an english fleet. finally reduced by famine and disease they capitulated to the english forces under gen. pigot. the latter then selected capt. sir alexander ball, nelson's representative, governor of the island. at the peace of amiens the effort was made to restore the order as ruling authority, under the protectorate of the great powers, but the maltese themselves objected so vehemently that after no small amount of trouble and dispute the inhabitants of the island elected to place themselves under the sovereignty of great britain, an arrangement finally and definitely confirmed at the congress of vienna in . thus disappeared from history one of the most interesting and longest enduring institutions recorded in its pages, and certainly the most long-lived of any of its kind. i say disappeared, meaning thereby only to indicate its disruption, as it were into fragments, its primary purpose, i. e. aid to the needy, being kept ever in view by some, while others preferring the life of a soldier, took service under various rulers or military leaders. the traitors who were responsible for surrender to napoleon fared badly according to their deserts, though it does not appear that any of them were hung. in the migration england seemed to attract many, perhaps the majority of those who were still inclined to good deeds. the title of grand master was still continued, under some pretension to perpetuation of the order. in russia the czar alexander, in , upon the death of his predecessor paul, announced himself a protector of the order, and designated count soltikoff to exercise the functions of the grand master. thus dismembered, disunited and scattered, the fragmentary langues of the order underwent, on their way to final dissolution, various vicissitudes, through which they cannot here be followed. complete extinguishment was the eventual fate of most of them. i shall only concern myself now with that of the english langue, and its partial revival in . rev. dr. peat, chaplain to george iv, was one of those to whom the remnants of the english langue appealed, with the result that in certain notable english gentry, of eminent attainments, undertook to revive the order in england, only under quite different conditions from those previously obtaining. in dr. peat was invested with the authority and functions of grand prior. it will be at once seen how the matter of religious belief now separated the english order from all the survivors of the previous regime, and why the last ties were severed. under the new regime members of the order dropped all pretense of playing a military role; one may read thereafter of real hospital activity. the life boat movement and ambulance work were gradually incorporated into their plans and scope. when first aid to the injured began to be publicly taught public and general interest was quickly aroused, and the energetic cooperation of eminent men was assured. in other words the order gradually took up just that class of work which is now done under the red cross. sir edward lechmere established, in , a commandery of the order in one of his castles, and in was instrumental in the acquisition of the st. john gate, which still stands, an example of tudor architecture as also a well preserved monumental relic of the time, beginning about , when the order had founded a hospital in clerkenwell, while the ladies of the order were housed in bucland, in somersetshire. the old priory of the order in clerkenwell was practically destroyed in , by the mob led by jack straw, in an insurrection which had, along with other results, as an incident, the beheading of sir robert hales, the prior of the order. in the slow process of rebuilding the present gate was not completed till . on the north and south fronts remain projecting towers, while in the western tower a spiral stair case is still in use. bedford's work, from which i have drawn heavily, gives excellent pictures of the gate as it appears to-day, and of the old priory restored. colonel duncan, also, deserves honorable mention in this connection; he became director of the ambulance movement in . finally we have to record here that under a new charter, granted in , the then prince of wales, later king edward, became the grand prior. therefore the order of the hospital, in england of st. john of jerusalem is, in fact, the legitimate successor--one might say the lineal descendant--of the old order of knights hospitaller, though it is to-day a secular and voluntary society, keeping to the traditions of the past, no longer military nor militant, save as it fights disease and best of all teaches others how to do the same. to follow it further is no longer necessary. its work is essentially that of the red cross. it has, for instance, a depot at old st. john's gate, whence all the material required in teaching and illustrating as well as rendering first aid is issued. its work was begun with a two-wheeled litter, an old esmarch triangular bandage from germany, and a stretcher from france. now it distributes all these things throughout the british empire. now, too, it maintains ambulances all over the city of london, which do for their own hospitals just what each of our hospitals at home has to do for itself. the german "samariter-verein" is virtually a chapter of the english order in its revivified form. in a branch of the order was organized in india, where among others the native police are instructed in "first aid." in , by a firman of the turkish sultan, an ophthalmic hospital was opened, under the auspices of the order, in jerusalem. only those who have travelled in the east can appreciate what this means to the poor, where squalor vies with ignorance, and, as in egypt though not so universally, both conspire to the ruin of that greatest of all blessings--eyesight. but i will not delay to write further of what the ambulance brigade of london, and its affiliated corps, have accomplished in many parts of the world; in south africa, for example, it works under the general supervision of the order of st. john, as it now exists in london. it does everything that in our country is accomplished by the red cross for the general public, and by the hospital corps and their medical officers for our army and navy. over the graves of eleven members of the brigade, who died at their posts in south africa, in st. paul's, london, not far from the crypts where lie the remains of nelson and wellington, has been erected a monument to their memory. another bearing among other inscriptions this beautiful scriptural quotation:--"greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends," was unveiled by his royal highness, acting as grand prior, in st. john's church, clerkenwell, june th, . fifteen hundred men enrolled in the order had left that church before their departure for the front, and of these about seventy sacrificed their lives to this sort of duty. do not the dead deserve all praise and respect, and the survivors all commendation? a few years ago my friend sir george beatson, surgeon to the royal infirmary in glasgow, published a little monograph--"the knights hospitallers in scotland and their priory at torphichen" (printed by hedderwick and sons, glasgow,)--which aroused my interest sufficiently to prompt a visit to this, the last home of the old order in that part of the world. the little village torphichen lies about midway between glasgow and edinburgh, and three miles south from the town of llinlithgow. here had been founded, in , one of the great priories or preceptories under control of the english _langue_. here they settled in a magnificent and fertile area, the grampian hills to their north; to their west could be seen the snow-capped top of what is now known as ben lomond. by donation, by cultivation of the arable soil, and by wise management of their resources, they prospered greatly, from the worldly point of view. here they erected that building, a part of which still exists, and which makes a picturesque ruin which is not yet a scene of desolation. the members of the order took, here as elsewhere, the view that the best way to serve god was by _remaining in it_ and working, not by _fleeing from it_ into lazy, selfish and profitless solitude as did too many of the monks. in common with other monasteries the torphichen preceptory possessed the right of sanctuary, and in its churchyard still stands the short stone pillar, carved with a maltese cross on its upper surface, which meant that within a mile in every direction therefrom all those charged with any crime, save murder only, might find temporary protection. here for four hundred years, and until the reformation upset everything, the hospitallers carried on their affairs. in their last preceptor or grand prior made over to the crown all their properties and effects. the crown in return made these possessions a temporal barony, carrying with it the title of lord of torphichen. from this time the property began to suffer--from time, storm, vandalism of the people and neglect. still the present lord torphichen has proven himself a better guardian than did some of his predecessors. a parish church has been built, partly upon the sight of the old structure, partly into it. dr. beatson has urged that a combination between the present order of st. john, in london, and the st. andrew's ambulance association might be effected which might work to the benefit of both, by reviving some of the work done here in days gone by. i have ventured this brief reference to torphichen, partly because of my interest in the place itself, associated with my visit there, and partly because every such visit to the monuments of past grandeur and usefulness should strengthen our interest and zeal in what man is accomplishing to-day, and should help link together the past and the present in a manner not merely fascinating but inspirational, and keep us from forgetting that motto of the order, "pro utilitate hominum" for the welfare of mankind. vii giordano bruno the renaissance was the fourth of the great events in the history of the christian era; the first being the decline of rome, the second the introduction of the christian cult, and the third, the intrusion into southern europe of the teutonic and slavonic tribes. with none of these however, save the fourth, is this paper primarily concerned, and not even with the fourth save indirectly, though it deals with a special feature of it. protestants and catholics alike impeded progress and the self-evolution of reason in every possible way. italy gave the world the roman republic, then the roman empire and finally the roman church; after that arose a new storm centre in the north which swept toward the mediterranean. the teutons effaced the western empire, adopted christianity, and completely modified what remained of latin civilization. then the roman bishops separated the latin from the greek church, and under the captious title of the holy roman empire bound western europe into what has been called a "cohesive whole." while romans and teutons never actually blended homogeneously, they had yet a common bond of union. when this coalition was for a time freed from both papacy and empire--then began intellectual activity and independence of thought, taking form in italy as the renaissance; in germany as the reformation. in the south it was known as the revival of learning. it furnished a _lux a non lucendo_. italy gave freedom rather to the mind, germany rather to the soul. toward the south men still took refuge behind that form of modified paganism which became catholicism. in the north they attained a more complete emancipation because of their violent opposition to the papacy and all that went with it. in the long run both attained the same result, i. e., liberation of the mind from artificial impediments and fetters, though they of the north achieved it in its full extent far earlier. (i am speaking of course, relatively; men's minds are far from free even today, but the state we have reached is a great advance upon that of bruno's time). the reformation led men to be far more outspoken than they dared be in the south; the free thinkers of italy were still content to do homage to a thoroughly corrupt papal hierarchy. as critics and warriors luther and calvin rank as liberators of the human mind, but later, as founders of mutually hostile sects, they only retarded civilization, and the churches they founded are today as stagnant pools. in , in the midst of this stormy period in italian history bruno was born, in the little village of nola, not far from naples, whence vesuvius was visible in the picturesque distance. his father was a soldier, his mother of very humble origin. of his family history nothing is known; little explanation is thus afforded, by the doctrine of heredity, for the marvelous mental faculties which he subsequently displayed. nevertheless his father was a man of some culture, at least, for he was a friend of tansillo, a poet, under whose influence the growing boy subsequently came. bruno has told us himself how one savolino (probably an uncle) annually confessed his sins to his curé, of which "though many and great" his boon companion readily absolved him. but only once was full confession necessary; each subsequent year savolino would say: "padre mio, the sins of a year--to-day,--you may know them;" to which the curé would reply "son, thou knowest the absolution of one year ago;--go in peace, and sin no more." in those days as in many others superstition was everywhere rife and effective. its influence must not be disregarded as one studies the formation of bruno's character. when he was about eleven years old bruno was sent to naples to be taught logic, dialectics and humanities. when fifteen he entered the dominican monastery in naples, and assumed the clerical habit of that order. here he gave up his baptismal name of filippo and assumed that of giordano, according to the monastic custom. in he was ordained priest. his reasons for thus entering the church are scarcely far to seek. of intellectual bent, and studious rather than martial in his habits and inclinations, there was but one career open to him. to be sure the dominican order was the most narrow and most bigoted of all, as the current punning expression "_domini canes_" will indicate. still it was at that time the most powerful, especially in the kingdom of naples, which was then ruled by spain. the old cloister had been once the home of st. thomas aquinas, whose works bruno claimed at his trial he had always by him, "continually reading, studying and restudying them, and holding them dear." this was the age when efforts to put down every heresy had been redoubled. the fanaticism of loyola, and the decision of the council of trent "to erase with fire and sword the slightest traces of heresy," made a poor frame work in which to place the picture of a liberal minded scholar. bruno soon learned this at his cost. even during his novitiate he was accused of giving away images of the saints, and of giving bad advice to his associates. in he was accused of apologizing for the heresy of arius, that the son was begotten of the father, and so not consubstantial nor coeternal with him, but created by him and subordinate to him; (which was condemned by the council of nice, , and contradicted in the nicene creed;) admiring its scholastic form, rather than its abstract truth. disgusted with his treatment he left naples and went to rome. even here he was molested in the cloister of minerva (note the pagan name), and was met with an accusation of specifications. he then abandoned his garb and his cloister and escaped from rome, beginning thus the nomadic life which he continued until immured in the dungeons of the inquisition at venice, sixteen years later. through these wanderings one must follow him, if one would become familiar with his life and traits. he now resumed for a time his baptismal name, and traveled to a town on the gulf of genoa, where he taught youth and young gentlemen. then he passed on to turin and venice, where he spent weeks in futile attempts to find work. but the schools and the printing houses were closed because of the plague. in venice however he managed to print his first book on "the signs of the times;" or rather this was his first book to appear in print. it seems that before he left naples he wrote "the ark of noah," a satirical allegory. in this he represented that the animals held a formal meeting in the ark, to settle questions of precedence and rank, and that the presiding officer, the ass, was in danger of losing his position and his influence, because his power lay rather in hoofs than horns. throughout most of his life bruno constantly scored and criticised asinity; it was frequently the topic of his invective, and those who read between his lines were probably quite justified in regarding these frequent allusions as references to the ignorance, bigotry and credulity of the monks. from venice bruno went to padua, where some of the dominican friars persuaded him to resume monastic costume, since it made travel easier and safer. thence by way of brescia and milan he may be followed to bergamo. at milan he first heard of his future friend sir philip sydney. from bergamo he resolved to go to lyons, but learning that he would find anything but welcome there he turned aside and crossed the alps, arriving in geneva in the spring of . here he was visited by a distinguished neapolitan exile, the marquis de vico, who persuaded him again to lay aside his clerical garb, and who gave him the dress of a gentleman, including a sword. here is raised the great question,--did bruno adopt calvinism? before the inquisition fifteen years later he practically denied this, yet acknowledged attending the lectures of balbani, of lucca, as well as of others who taught and preached in geneva. under the regulations of the academy (university), where he had already registered, certain regulations must be complied with, and bruno appears to have obeyed them in at least a certain degree. but the immediate cause for his departure from geneva appears to have been one of his outbreaks of cynicism and accurate scholarship, since in he was called before the council for having caused to be printed a document enumerating twenty errors made by the professor of philosophy (de la faye) in one of his lectures. the latter was incensed and outraged at this criticism and disparagement of his views and learning, and the quarrel assumed unexpected magnitude, since bruno, on his second appearance before the consistory or supreme tribunal of the church, denied the charges and called the ministers "pedagogues." these gentlemen decided to refuse him communion unless he should confess and repent of his faults and make due apology. his acceptance of these conditions not being hearty enough to suit his judges, he was admonished and excluded from the communion. these steps lead to greater contrition on his part, and the ban of excommunication was withdrawn. this sentence of exclusion was the only one within the power of the consistory to pass, but does not prove that bruno had accepted the protestant faith, nor partaken of its communion. in fact at his trial he steadfastly denied this. it seemed however, to disgust him with calvinism, against which thereafter he never ceased to inveigh. later he contrasted it with lutheranism which was far more tolerant, and still later gave him a heartier welcome. calvin, it must be remembered, had written a polemic against servetus, "in which it is shown to be lawful to coerce heretics by the sword." as between the council of trent and calvin it certainly must have been hard, in those days, to select either a faith, or an abiding place where that faith might be peaceably practised. doubtless bruno's views concerning the philosophy of aristotle conflicted with those of the church authorities, for beza (calvin's follower), had stated that they did not propose to swerve one particle from the opinions of that greek philosopher, to whom, though of pagan origin, the church, both roman and protestant, was for centuries so firmly bound. and so shaking the dust of geneva from his feet he journeyed to lyons, where he failed utterly to find occupation, and then on to toulouse, where he remained about two years. here he took a doctorate in theology in order to compete for a vacant chair. to this he was elected by the students, as the custom then was in most of the _scholia_ or universities. for two sessions he lectured on aristotle. had this university required of him that he should attend mass, as did some others, he could not have done so, owing to his excommunication; though just why exclusion from a calvinistic academy should debar him from catholic mass does not appear. toulouse was a _warm_ place for heretics; the burning of , of them at its capture will prove this. a few years ( ) after he left it vanini was burned for heretic notions. it is hardly to be believed that bruno could pass two years or more here without controversies arising from his teaching. but his nominal reason for leaving, in , and going to paris, was the war then raging in southern france, under henry of navarre. before leaving toulouse he completed his "_clavis magna_" or "great key," the last word--as he seemed to think--on the art of memory. only one volume of this great work, which, in his peculiarly egotistical way, he said is "superlatively pregnant," was ever published, and that in england, the "_sigillus sigillorum_." it must not be forgotten that it was on both teaching and practising this art of memory that bruno, throughout his career, prided himself. he was even not averse, at least at certain periods of his career, to the belief that he had some secret system for this purpose, or even received occult aid. but when summoned before henry iii, to whose ears had come his fame, and asked whether the memory he had and the art he professed were natural or due to magic, he proved that a good memory was a cultivated natural product. he then dedicated to the king a book on "_the art of memory_." but this was shortly after his arrival in paris, in , where he quickly became famous. a course of thirty lectures on "_the thirty divine attributes_" of st. thomas aquinas would have given him a chair, could he have attended mass. his residence in paris was marked by an extraordinary literary activity. he published in succession _de umbris idearum_ (shadow of ideas), dedicated to henry iii, (this included the art of memory just mentioned) _cantus circaeus_ (incantation of circe) dedicated to prince henry; _de compendiosa architectura et complemento artis lulli_ (compendious architecture); _il candelaio_ (the torchbearer); these all appeared in . these varied greatly in character. the first was devoted to the metaphysics of the art of remembering, with an analysis of that faculty, and these second was given up to the same general topic. it was all obscure, hence perhaps its popularity. brunnhofer says that it was "a convenient means of introducing bruno to strange universities, gaining him favor with the great, or helping him out of pressing need of money. it was his exoteric philosophy with which he could carefully drape the philosophy of a religion hostile to the church, and ride as a hobby horse in his unfruitful humors." nevertheless we must believe in his sincerity. the "compendious architecture" is the first of his works in which bruno deals with the views of raymond lully, a "logical calculus and mnemonic scheme in one" (mcintyre) that had many imitators. for lully bruno seems to have the greatest regard, this appearing in many ways. lully, by the way, was a spanish scholastic and alchemist, who was born on one of the balearic islands in . he went as a missionary to the mahommedans, and spent much time in asia and africa. he figures largely in the history of the alchemists and as a practitioner of the occult. the "torchbearer" was a work of very different character. it was described as a "comedy" by one who described himself as "academico di nulla academia, ditto il fastidito: in tristitia hilaris, hilaritate tristis." it is essentially a satire on the predominant vices of pedantry, superstition and selfishness or sordid love. though lacking in dramatic power it is regarded as second to nothing of its kind and time. its _dramatis personae_ are personified types, not individuals. it was realistic even in its vulgarity, for obscenity was prevalent in the literature of those days. but in it bruno struck at what seemed to him his greatest enemy, i. e. pedantry. there were at this time in paris two great universities, one the college de france, with liberal tendencies, and opposed to the jesuits and all pedantry; the other the sorbonne, for centuries the guardian of the catholic faith, endowed with the right of censorship, which must have been exercised over bruno's works. in which of these, though surely in one of them, bruno was made an extraordinary lecturer history has failed to record. he must have offended both, since he was anxious to be taken back into the church, yet was revolutionary in his teaching. more than thirty years later nostitz, one of his pupils, paid tribute to his versatility and skill, saying "he was able to discourse impromptu on any suggested subject, to speak extensively and elaborately without preparation, so that he attracted many pupils and admirers in paris." (mcintyre). but bruno belonged to the literally peripatetic school, and in he forsook paris for london, because as he says of "tumults," leaving it to the imagination whether these were civil or scholastic. elizabeth reigned at this time; her influence made england a harbor of safety for religious and other mental suspects. she had a penchant for italians and their language; two of her physicians were italians, and florio was ever welcome at her court. to this court bruno also was welcomed, and, basking for sometime in the sunshine of her regard and patronage, passed there the happiest portion of his unhappy life. oxford was at that time the stronghold of aristotelianism. one of its statutes ordained that "bachelors and masters who did not follow aristotle faithfully were liable to a fine of five shillings for every point of divergence, and for every fault committed against the logic of the organon." (mcintyre). in oxford at this time, unfortunately, theology was the only live issue; of science as of real scholarship there was little or none. (its predominant trait of those days is still, perhaps, its dominant feature to-day). to this university bruno addressed a letter, couched in vainglorious and egotistical terms, craving permission to lecture there. this was not received with favor, while his doctrines met with small encouragement at this ancient seat of learning, which bruno later stigmatized as the "widow of true science." but opportunity was afforded him to dispute publicly before a noble visitor in june, , a polish prince; one alasco, for whom great public entertainment had been provided. his opponent, defeated by fifteen unanswerable syllogisms, resorted to scurrility and abuse. this public exhibition put an end to the lectures on the immortality of the soul which bruno had been allowed to give, and he returned to london. shortly after this he published his _cena_ (ash wednesday supper) in which he ridiculed the oxford doctors, saying among other things that they were much better acquainted with beer than with greek. but he criticised too cynically and lost thereby in popularity. this led to the appearance of the _causa_, a dialogue, in which he was less vindictive. he admitted in this that there was much in the old institution which was admirable; that it was even the first in europe, that speculative philosophy first flourished there, and that thence, "the splendor of one of the noblest and rarest spheres of philosophy, in our times almost extinct, was diffused to all other academies in civilized lands." what he most condemned was the too great attention given to language and words while the realistics for which words stand were neglected. doctors were easily made and doctorates too cheaply bought. his charge in brief was that they mistook the shadow for the substance; a charge even yet too commonly justified among the strongholds of theology and other speculative dogmas. returning to london after this experience bruno went to live with mauvissiere, the french ambassador. while the english records make no mention of his presence it is yet quite certain that he was frequently at court, and that men like sydney, greville, temple and others were his frequent associates. but as the ambassador's influence was on the wane, he was not equal to his great trust. at this time our philosopher spoke of himself as one "whom the foolish hate, the ignoble despise, whom the wise love, the learned admire," etc. (mcintyre). of queen elizabeth he wrote in most fulsome phrases, such as she too dearly loved. before his judges, a few years later, bruno apologized for his exaggerated expressions concerning a protestant ruler, claiming that when he spoke of her as "divine" he meant it not as a term of worship, but as an epithet like those which the ancients bestowed upon their rulers; claiming further that he knew he erred in thus praising a heretic. bruno published seven works in england. the first was "_explicatio triginta sigillorum_," the thirty seals thus explained being hints for acquiring, arranging and remembering all arts and sciences. to it was added his _sigillus sigillorum_ for comparing and explaining all mental operations. then came an italian dialogue "_la cena de le ceneri_" or ash wednesday supper. this was written in praise and extension of the copernican theory, indeed quite exceeding it in teaching the identity of matter, the infinity of the universe, the possibility of life on other spheres, with a painstaking attempt to show that these notions do not conflict with those of mother church. next came "_de causa, principio et uno_." (cause, principle and unity). this treated of the immanence of spirit, the eternity of matter, the potential divinity of life, the origin of sin and death, and many other similar abstruse topics. it was followed by _de l'infinito universo ed mondi_, with numerous reasons for believing the universe to be infinite and full of innumerable worlds, with the divine essence everywhere pervading. all these works appeared in . in appeared his "_spacio de la bestia triofante_" or expulsion of the triumphant beast. in this prose poem jupiter, repenting his errors, resolves to expel the many beasts that occupy his heavenly sphere--the constellations--and to substitute for them the virtues. in the council of the gods convened by him many subjects are discussed, among them the history of religions, the contrasts between natural and revealed religions and the fundamental forms of morality. in this allegory jupiter represents of course the human spirit; the bear, the scorpion, etc., are the vices to be expelled. unfortunately the book was quite generally regarded as attack upon the church or the pope, though what he really struck at was the credulity of mankind. it was dedicated to sir philip sydney. then came his "_cabala del cavallo pegasio_" or cabal, dedicated to a suppositious bishop who was made to impersonate the spirit of ignorance and sloth. it is a mordant satire on asinity, including credulity and unquestioning faith. after this he dedicated another work to sidney. "_degl' heroici furori_" (enthusiasms of the noble), a collection of sonnets with prose commentaries, like dante's _vita nuova_, touching on the love for spiritual beauty arising from that for physical beauty attaining a climax in a sort of ecstasy by union with the divine. these sonnets possess a very high literary value aside from their other interest. when his ambassadorial patron was recalled bruno probably returned to paris with him, during the latter part of . here he spent a year amidst constant turmoil and excitement, and at his own expense. though he attempted reconciliation with the church he was regarded as an apostate. he held one more public disputation in which he advanced one hundred and twenty theses against the teaching of the sorbonne, his side being taken by its rival, the college de france. the outcome cannot have been brilliantly favorable, since he soon after left paris, in june, . the collection of charges above alluded to was published in paris after bruno's departure, and again in wittenberg, under the title "_excubitor_" (the ambassador). it was an arraignment of the aristotelians, based on the words of that great master himself. bruno claimed the same right to criticise aristotle that the latter claimed to criticise his predecessors. in it bruno says, "it is a poor mind that will think with the multitude because it is a multitude; truth is not altered by the opinions of the vulgar or the confirmation of the many;"--and again--"it is more blessed to be wise in truth in face of opinion than to be wise in opinion in face of truth." (mcintyre, p. ). in addition to this bruno had also published, before leaving paris, a commentary on the physics of aristotle. tarrying somewhat by the wayside bruno reached wittenberg, where, in , he matriculated at its university, marburg having curtly rejected him. describing him here mcintyre styles him the "knight errant of philosophy." here lutheranism dominated the theological faculty, while the philosophical faculty was dominated by calvinism; views concerning the person of christ, the "real presence," and the doctrine of predestination keeping them apart in spite of melancthon's attempt to reunite the two factions. from the lutheran party bruno obtained permission to lecture, and so for two years he taught from the organon of aristotle, as well as the writings of raymond lulli. to the university senate he dedicated a work on lulli, "_de lampade combinatoria lulliana_," whose chief purpose was to teach one how to find "an indefinite number of propositions and middle terms for speaking and arguing." he regarded it as the only key to the lullian writings, as well as a clue to a great many of the mysteries of the pythagoreans and cabalists. it was soon followed by "_de progressu et lampade venatoria logicorum_," intended to enable one to "dispute promptly and copiously on any subject." but again fate compelled a change of residence, for the calvanistic and ducal party gained in political ascendancy, to which party bruno, as a copernican, would have appeared as a heretic. after delivering an eloquent address of farewell he moved on, his next abiding place being prague, where rudolph ii, of bohemia, was posing as the friend of all learned men. here he already had friends at court, and here he introduced himself with another lullian work. to the emperor he next dedicated a work of iconoclastic type, "one hundred and sixty articles against the mathematicians and philosophers of the day." for this the emperor granted him the sum of three hundred dollars, and in january, , he shifted again to helmstadt, in brunswick, where he matriculated again in the then youngest of the german universities. this had been founded only twelve years before by duke julius, who was extremely liberal in his views, and intended to found a model institution, in which theology should not play too dominant a part. but while he received here a certain recognition fate again sported with him, for the duke died four months after his arrival. bruno obtained permission to pronounce a funeral oration, desiring to express his gratitude to the memory of one who had opened such an institution, so free to all lovers of the muses and to exiles like himself, who were here protected from the greedy maw of the roman wolf, whereas in italy he had been chained to a superstitious cult. it was full of allusions to the papal tyranny which was infecting the world with the rankest poison of ignorance and vice. the fatuous simplicity and the worldly blindness which bruno displayed, in ever setting foot inside of italian or papal territory after the delivery of this _oratio consolatoria_, may in one way be appreciated but never understood or explained. moreover he had made himself _persona non grata_ as well to the protestants, who were scarcely more liberal than the catholics. it appears that the great boethius, superintendent of the church at helmstadt, had acted both as judge and executioner, and publicly excommunicated bruno without a hearing, since there is extant a letter appealing from his arbitrary judgment and malice. the grounds for this judgment were never made clear, since no attention was ever paid to the appeal; but inasmuch as bruno never really joined the protestant profession it must have been meant to inflict some species of social ostracism. boethius had himself to be suppressed later. but bruno, finding too many enemies, left for frankfort in , "in order to get two books printed." these were his two great latin works, "de minimo" and "de immenso," the introduction to the latter being the "de monade." he worked at these with his own hands. in the introduction to the former his publisher stated that before its final revision bruno had been hurriedly called away by an unforseen chance. this sudden departure may have been due to a refusal of the town council to permit his residence there, or it may have been a call to zürich, where he spent a few months with one hainzel, who had a leaning toward the black arts. bruno wrote for him "_de imaginum compositione_," a manual of his art of memory. in this swiss city he also dictated a work "_summa terminorum metaphysicorum_," which was not published until , and then in marburg. but bruno returned to frankfort in , where he obtained permission to publish his _de minimo_. this work was on the "three fold minimum and measurement, being the elements of three speculative and several practical sciences." this like the two next mentioned was a latin poem, after the fashion of lucretius. the _de monade, numero et figura_ dealt with the monad, and with the elements of a more esoteric science, while in the _de immenso et innumerabilibus_, the immeasurable and innumerable, he dealt with the universe and the worlds. these three poems contain bruno's complete philosophy of god and nature. while thus staying in frankfort for the second time bruno was invited by a young venetian patrician to pay him a visit, and become his tutor in those arts in which the philosopher excelled. it was the most unfortunate event in bruno's unhappy life when he accepted this apparently tempting invitation. mocenigo, his host, was of good family, but shallow, vain, weak-minded and dishonest, with the fashionable taste of his day for the black arts. it is quite possible that he was moreover the tool of the inquisition, which had long desired to entrap bruno. it is probable moreover that the latter quite failed to appreciate how unenviably he was regarded by that church to which he still felt that he belonged. furthermore venice was then a republic and free, and he longed for his beloved italy again. en route to venice he spent three months in padua, teaching there and gathering around himself pupils, even in that short time. he had barely left it when galileo was invited there to teach; as riehl has said, "the creator of modern science following in the steps of its prophet." early in bruno went to live in mocenigo's house. trouble soon began. entirely apart in temperament and characteristics, they soon disagreed. the pupil was deeply disappointed at not acquiring that mastery over the secrets of nature for which he had hoped, and found that there was no quick way to acquire a retentive and replete memory. and so mocenigo announced to his friend ciotto, the bookseller, his intent to gain from bruno all he could and then denounce him to the holy office. while others were thus conspiring against him bruno was writing a work on "the seven liberal arts" and on "seven other inventive arts," intending to present it to the pope, hoping thus to obtain absolution and be released from the ban of excommunication. when bruno at last appreciated the dangers by which he was surrounded he announced his intent to go again to frankfort to have some of his books printed, and so took his leave of mocenigo. on the following day, in may, , bruno was seized by six men, using force, who locked him in an upper story of mocenigo's house. the next day he was transferred to an underground cellar, and the following night to the prison of the inquisition. may rd his former host denounced him, with a cunning and lying statement concerning some of his views and teachings. thus he was reported as stating that christ's miracles were only apparent, that he and the apostles were magicians, that the catholic faith was full of blasphemies against god, that the friars befouled the world and should not be allowed to preach, that they were asses, and the doctrines of the church were asses' beliefs, etc. (mcintyre). this was followed two days later by a second denunciation in which mocenigo went to a diabolical extreme of deceit and hypocrisy; stating that all the time he was entertaining bruno he was promising himself to bring him before the holy office. within forty-eight hours the holy tribunal met to consider the matter; before them appeared the book-sellers who had known bruno in zürich and frankfort, and before them came bruno in his own behalf, professing his entire willingness to tell the whole truth. within a few days mocenigo made yet another deposition, denouncing bruno's statements about the infallible church. on the following day bruno was again heard in his own defense, and appealed to the famous and fallacious doctrine of two-fold truth, acknowledging that he had taught too much as a philosopher rather than as an honest man and christian, and that he had based his teachings too much on sense and reason and not enough on faith;--so specious had become his argument with the terrors of the inquisition before him. he further claimed that his intent had been not to impugn the faith but to exalt philosophy. he then beautifully epitomized his own views, claiming that he believed in an infinite universe, in an infinite divine potency, holding it unworthy of an infinite power to create a finite world, when he could produce so vast an infinity; with pythagoras he regarded this world as one of many stars,--innumerable worlds. this universe he held to be governed by a universal providence, existent in two forms;--one nature, the shadow or footprint of deity, the other the ineffable essence of god, always inexplicable. concerning the triune godhead he confessed certain philosophic doubts as well as concerning the use of the term "_persons_" in these distinctions, while he quoted st. augustine to the same effect. the miracles he had always believed to be divine and genuine; concerning the holy mass and the transubstantiation he agreed with the church. as the days went by he became the more insistent upon his orthodoxy. he condemned the heretic writings of melancthon, luther and calvin, expressed respect for the writings of lulli because of their philosophical bearings, while for st. thomas aquinas he had the most profound regard. other counts in the indictment which he had to face were his doubts concerning the miracles, the sacraments and the incarnation, his praise of heretics and heretic princes and his familiarity with the magic arts. he finally made a formal solemn abjuration of all the errors he had ever committed, and the heresies he had ever uttered, or doubts expressed or believed, praying only that the holy office would receive him back into the church where he might rest in peace. further examinations were held and the earlier processes against him in naples and rome recalled. after this there was a period of apparent quiet save that he remained in prison. it is not known to what tortures he may have been subjected, but it is recorded that he knelt before his judges asking their pardon, and god's, for all his faults, and professed himself ready for any penance, apparently not yet realizing the fate in store for him. a little later it transpired that the sacred congregation of the supreme tribunal of the holy office, in rome, desired to assume all further responsibility for the process against so distinguished a heretic. accordingly the machinery of the church was put in motion to this end. negotiations with the venetian republic, somewhat tedious and complicated, which need not detain us now, were at last concluded. january , , the venetian procurator reported of bruno that "his faults were exceedingly grave in respect of heresies, though in other respects he was one of the most excellent and rarest natures, and of exquisite learning and knowledge," (mcintyre) but that the case was of unusual gravity, bruno not a venetian subject, the pope most anxious, etc. it was then decided to remit him to the tribunal of the inquisition at rome; whereat it is duly reported, the pope was deeply gratified. to rome then he went and here he was lost, so far as documentary records go, for a period of six years. how to explain this fact and this apparent clemency has bothered the biographers not a little. whether this time was spent in an examination of his voluminous writings, which would seem incredible, or whether the dominicans labored so long to procure his more absolute recantation in order to prevent scandal in and reflection on their order, or whether pope clement himself regarded kindly--in some degree-- the great scholar who was so anxious to dedicate to him a _magnum opus_;--to these queries history answereth not. the dominicans pretended--years later--to doubt if he ever had been put to death, or whether he had ever really belonged to their order. these statements are too characteristic to provoke more than a sad smile. finally matters were hastened to an end by the efforts of fathers commisario and bellarmino; the latter being the zealous bigot who decided that copernicanism was a heresy, who later laid the indictment against galileo. through their machinations bruno was, in february, , decreed on eight counts as a dangerous heretic, who might still admit his heresies, and he was to be granted forty days in which to recant and repent. but this period was stretched out some ten months, until december, when it was reported that bruno refused to recant, having nothing to take back. among the tribunal at this time was san severino, fanatical, bitter because of his failure to secure the papacy, who had declared that st. bartholomew's was "a glorious day, a day of joy for catholics." it was decided that the high officers of the dominicans should make one last effort to compel or coax bruno to abjure. this he declined to do, whereupon, january th, , it was decreed that "further measures be proceeded to, _servatis servandis_, that sentence be passed, and that the said friar giordano be handed over to the secular authority." a few days later bruno was degraded, excommunicated and handed over to the governor of rome, with the usual hypocritical recommendation to "mercy," and that he be punished "without effusion of blood," which meant of course burning at the stake. bruno's reply to his judges deserves to be printed in letters of gold whenever it can be recorded;--"_greater perhaps is your fear in pronouncing my sentence than mine in hearing it._" let us spare ourselves a too minute account of his execution. some reports are to the effect that his tongue was tied, because he refused to listen to the exhortations of those members of the company of st. john the beheaded, better known as the brothers of the misericordia, who accompanied the condemned to the scaffold or the stake, resorting to the most cruel methods in order to provoke at least some appearance of recantation or repentance during the last moments of life. right here let it be said of bruno that whatever may have been his weaknesses before the inquisition at venice, he stood firmly by his creed when put to the final test, and died an ideal martyr's death because his creed did not agree with that of his persecutors. and so terminated the life of one of italy's greatest ornaments and scholars. the occasion had not then the importance we assign it now. the burning of a heretic was a frequent spectacle, and the year was the year of jubilee, in which the death of one unbeliever more was but the incident of a day. he had himself foreseen it, saying, "torches, fifty or a hundred, will not fail me, even though the march past be at mid-day, should it be my fate to die in roman catholic country." there remains yet to comment on his character and to analyze his views. the greatest blot upon the former is his attitude before the venetian tribunal. here he was at first defiant, even polemical, strong in his asserted right to use the natural light of sense and reason. under greater stress he modified this to one of absolute and indignant denial, and finally became submissive to the last degree, cringing and finally begging for pardon on bended knees. that this attitude changed with his better realization of his predicament is undeniable. moreover what keen and sensitive natures may do under the influence of torture is never to be predicated. how many of us could resist the persuasiveness of the rack when it came to modifying our beliefs? but whatever may have been his weakness at that time, he completely rehabilitated himself before his end, for were not his ashes scattered to the winds as a token that he completely failed to recant? surely no martyr to science or dogma ever died a more dignified death, for the edification or example of others. what shall be said of his persecutors and prosecutors? let us here be charitable; let us be just. have we yet that absolute knowledge of right and wrong which can enable us to pass final judgment on men of the past, their motives and actions? moral perceptions are the product of the race, the age and the environment; they vary greatly with the times. there is no crime in or out of the decalogue which has at all times and by all peoples been regarded as such. the church during several centuries enjoyed a monopoly of wisdom or learning as well as of opportunities for acquiring them. zealotry, bigotry, intolerance, fanaticism, were the natural products of such conditions. so were cruelty and disregard of human life. join the mind of a bigot to the body of one who knows not fear, and the result will be a loyola, or a st. louis of france, who held that the only argument a layman should engage in with a heretic should be a sword thrust through the body. if then heresy was a crime, punishable by a cruel death in all the capitals of europe, let us blame less the men who were trained and grew up with these notions, but rather more the church which preached them, whether catholic or protestant. only if one of these really were, as it still claims to be, _infallible_, then what has become of its infallibility? or if heresy be held still a crime then what shall we say of the church's ethics? if one were god-given the other is un-christ-like. but no free thinker can engage in theological polemics, or with jesuitical sophistries, without letting his reason excite his emotions; and when the emotions enter the door logic flies out of the window. let us say then that bruno was in some respects so far ahead of his day and generation that they understood him not. and yet he was a _torch bearer_, save at his own last funeral pyre, shedding forth a light which illumed the centuries to come, and helping to make the period of the italian renaissance one of the most important and glorious in the world's history. if better known and more widely studied, he would be by english and american students placed on that pinnacle which he deserves in the hall of fame. what shall be said of bruno as a philosopher? he, first of all men in the middle ages, taught that nature was lovable and worthy of study. loving her, trusting, confiding in her, he found himself at outs with all the mental processes of his fellow scholars. in this way the natural method was brought into direct opposition with the ponderously artificial and strained methods of his day. he held that our eyes were given us that we might open and look upward. "seeing, i do not pretend not to see, nor fear to profess it openly," he says. his philosophy was rather a product of intuition than of ratiocination, which became his real religion, for which catholicism was a cloak, because in those days one was compelled to wear a cloak or live but a short life, and that within prison walls. what the medieval church, catholic and even protestant, has to answer for, as to the suppression of truth and provocation of hypocrisy, is beyond the mensuration of man. for the argument from authority he had the greatest contempt, and herein he set the world of thinkers a valuable lesson. "to believe with the many because they were many, was the mark of a slave," (mcintyre). before bacon, before descrates, he saw the necessity of "first clearing the mind of all prejudice, all traditional beliefs that rest on authority." he thus begins one of his sonnets:-- "oh, holy assinity! oh, holy ignorance, holy folly and pious devotion; which alone makest souls so good that human wit and zeal can go no further," etc. by the independence of his mental processes he was thrown quite upon his own resources, and his nature, already dignified and reserved, was made more introspective and self-conscious. in this way he developed strains of vanity and egotism which led him at times to the bombastic self-laudation of a paracelsus. he had nothing but disgust for the common people and the sort of scholars (pedants) whom they admired. the vulgar mind was more influenced by sophisms, by appearance, by failure to distinguish between the shadow and the substance. take but two or three of bruno's conceptions:-- he perhaps first during the middle ages taught the transformation of lower into higher organisms, following the greeks who first enunciated the doctrine of evolution, which it remained for darwin and wallace to edit and illustrate as that law of the organic continuity of life, which we call _evolution_. he further wrote of the human hand as a factor in the evolution of the human race, in a way which should have commended him to the author of the bridgewater treatise. he wrote of the changes on the earth's surface brought about by natural processes, which have changed not only the external configuration of the same but the fate and destiny of nations; of the identity of matter throughout the universe; of the universal movement of matter. long before lessing he showed how myths may contain the germs of great truths, and should be regarded as indications thereof. in this way, he told us, the bible was to be regarded, holding its more or less historical statements to be quite subordinate to its moral teachings. when we realize how to such highly developed reasoning powers as bruno possessed, were added a phenomenal memory, a tremendous power of assimilation, a developed imagination, a poetic nature, the gift of easy and accurate speech and a temperament easily excited to fervor in attack or defense, we may the better appreciate his dominating greatness as well as his trifling weakness; the former being entirely to his own credit while the latter are ascribed largely to the faults of his time, and the fact that he was really living far ahead of his day and generation. he was not only the forerunner of modern science, he was the prototype of the modern biblical critic, foreshadowing the modern higher criticism, albeit in veiled terms, and as a matter of esoteric teaching; because the biblical critic of those days was burned at the stake, while to-day he is barely ostracized by the shallow and narrow minded, with whom he has at best nothing mentally in common. so much have four centuries of labor and vicarious suffering accomplished for the emancipation of the human mind. bruno _had_ a creed, but it was too simple for his times. he rejected certain orthodox dogmas, (e. g. the trinity, the immaculate conception) which commend themselves still less to the emancipated and cultivated minds of to-day. he absolutely rejected authority, which was a step toward reason comparable to the freeing of the slaves or serfs. he evolved a theory of evolution from _a priori_ concepts, which it remained for darwin to complete and demonstrate. he believed in the natural history of religions. his motives were of the loftiest, though his methods were not always those of to-day. he believed that the essence of truth inhered in those differences which kept men apart, and still sever them. he believed the _law of love_ and that it sprang from god, which is the father of all, that it was in harmony with nature, and that by love we may be transformed into something of his likeness. as bruno himself says:--"this is the religion, above controversy or dispute, which i observe from the belief of my own mind, and from the custom of my fatherland and my race." (mcintyre, p. ). and yet this sublime man was burned as a heretic! let us stop when we hereafter pass through the campo dei fiori, as i have done many a time, and take off our hats to the memory of this great man, who, while small in some human traits, yet was the greatest thinker in italy during the sixteenth century, whose memory may help us to forget some of the hypocrisies and cant so generally prevalent during the age which and among the men who condemned him. let us also thank god that there is no tribunal of the inquisition to-day, to pass misguided judgment upon us for having gone further than bruno ever dreamed, though along the same lines, and to condemn us therefore to the flames. this paper has already been prolonged, perhaps tiresomely, nevertheless i cannot refrain from quoting a few paragraphs from that most versatile student of this period, symonds, whose estimate of bruno is as follows:--(renaissance in italy; catholic reaction, ii chap. ix). "bruno appears before us as the man who most vitally and comprehensively grasped the leading tendencies of his age in their intellectual essence. he left behind him the mediaeval conception of an extra-mundane god, creating a finite world, of which this globe is the center, and the principal episode in the history of which is the series of events from the fall, through the incarnation and crucifixion, to the last judgment. he substituted the conception of an ever-living, ever-acting, ever-self-effectuating god, immanent in an infinite universe, to the contemplation of whose attributes the mind of man ascends by the study of nature and interrogation of his conscience. "bolder even than copernicus, and nearer in his intuition to the truth, he denied that the universe had "flaming walls" or any walls at all. that "immaginata circonferenza," "quella margine immaginata del cielo," on which antique science and christian theology alike reposed, was the object of his ceaseless satire, his oft-repeated polemic. what, then, rendered bruno the precursor of modern thought in its various manifestations, was that he grasped the fundamental truth upon which modern science rests, and foresaw the conclusions which must be drawn from it. he speculated boldly, incoherently, vehemently; but he speculated with a clear conception of the universe, as we still apprehend it. through the course of three centuries we have been engaged in verifying the guesses, deepening, broadening and solidifying the hypotheses, which bruno's extension of the copernican theory, and his application of it to pure thought suggested to his penetrating and audacious intellect." bruno was convinced that religion in its higher essence would not sufferer from the new philosophy. larger horizons extended before the human intellect. the soul expanded in more exhilarating regions than the old theologies had offered. "lift up thy light on us and on thine own, o soul whose spirit on earth was as a rod to scourge off priests, a sword to pierce their god, a staff for man's free thought to walk alone, a lamp to lead him far from shrine and throne on ways untrodden where his fathers trod ere earth's heart withered at a high priest's nod, and all men's mouths that made not prayer made moan. from bonds and torments, and the ravening flame, surely thy spirit of sense rose up to greet lucretius, where such only spirits meet, and walk with him apart till shelley came to make the heaven of heavens more heavenly sweet, and mix with yours a third incorporate name." viii student life in the middle ages[ ] [ ] an address given before the chas. k. mills society of students of the university of pennsylvania, february , . [reprinted from the _univ. of penna. medical bulletin_, march, .] i assume that every university student of today realizes that his possibilities and his opportunities are better in every way than were those enjoyed by students of bygone times. i take it, also, that you would not be averse to listening to an account of the habits, the surroundings, the privileges, and the disadvantages which surrounded students at a time when universities were young and when customs in general, as well as manners, were very different from those of to-day. with all this in view, i shall ask your attention to a brief account of student life in the middle ages, with especial reference to that of the medical student. measured by its results, the most priceless legacy of mediæval times to mankind was the university system, which began in crude form and with an almost mythical origin, but which gradually took form and shape in consequence of many external forces. it represented an effort to "realize in concrete form an ideal of life in one of its aspects." such ideals "pass into great historic forces by embodying themselves in institutions," as witness, for instance, the case of the church of rome. the use of words in our language has undergone many curious perversions. take our word "bombast," for instance. originally it was a name applied to the cotton plant. then it was applied to any padding for garments which was made of cotton. later it was used as describing literary padding, as it were, as when one filled out an empty speech with unnecessary and long words, and, at last, it came to have the meaning which we now give it. so with the word "university." "universitas" in the original latin meant simply a collection, a plurality, or an aggregation. it was almost synonymous with "collegium." by the beginning of the thirteenth century it was applied to corporations of masters or students and to other associated bodies, and implied an association of individuals, not a place of meeting, nor even a collection of schools. if we were to be literal and consistent in our use of terms, for the place where such collections of men exercise scholastic functions the term should be "_studium generale_," meaning thereby a place, not where all things are studied, but where students come together from all directions. very few of the mediæval studia possessed all the faculties of a modern university. even paris, in its palmiest days, had no faculty of law. the name _universitas_ implies a general invitation to students from all over the world to seek there a place for higher education from numerous masters or teachers. the three great _studia_ of the thirteenth century were paris, transcendent in theology and the arts; bologna, where legal lore prevailed; and salernum, where existed the greatest medical school of the world's history. in spite of the fact that these, like all the other _studia_ of the middle ages, were under the influence of the church, from them sprang most of the inspiration that constituted the mainspring of mediæval intellectual activity, although how baneful such influence could be may be illustrated by the spanish--that is, the ultra-catholic university of salamanca, where not until one hundred years ago were they allowed to teach the copernican system of astronomy. under the conditions existing during the middle ages, with relatively few institutions of advanced learning, and in the presence of that spirit which led men to travel long distances, and very widely out of the provinces, to the cities of the great scholia, or, as we call them now, universities, the most imperative common want was that of a common language; and so it happened that not only were the lectures all given in latin, but that it was very commonly used for conversational purposes, and appears to have been almost a necessity of university life. early in the history of the university of paris a statute made the ability of the petitioner to state his case before the rector in latin a test of his bona-fide studentship. this may perhaps, in some measure account for the barbarity of mediæval latin. still, as the listener said about wagner's music, "it may not have been as bad as it sounded," since the period of greatest ignorance of construction and rhetoric had passed away before the university era began. john stuart mill even praised the schoolmen of the middle ages for their inventive capacity in the matter of technical terms. the latin language, which was originally stiff and poor in vocabulary, became, in its employment by these mediæval thinkers, much more flexible and expressive. it was the ciceronian pedantry of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries which killed off latin as a living language. felicity in latin counted, then as now, as a mark of scholarship, and six hundred years ago a schoolmaster could come up to the university and, after performing some exercises and passing such an examination as the doctors of music do to-day, could write one hundred verses in latin in praise of the university, and take his degree. the boys who went to the universities learned their latin at inferior grammar schools, often in university towns. these schools were mainly connected with cathedrals or churches, although, in the later middle ages, even the smallest towns had schools where a boy might learn to read and write at least the rudiments of ecclesiastical latin. in those days not only were the clergy latin scholars, but the bailiff of every manor kept his accounts in latin, and a tutor even formed part of the establishment of a great noble or prelate who had either a family or pages in his care. in those good old days boys were accustomed to seek the university at the ages of thirteen to fifteen. a paris statute required them to be at least fourteen, and naturally many were older. many of these students were beneficed, and boys were canons or even rectors of parish churches. in this capacity they obtained leave of absence to study in the universities, and so it was quite common at one time for rectors and ecclesiastics of all ages to appear in the rôle of university students. at the close of the fourteenth century, in the university of prague, in the law school alone there appeared on the list of students one bishop, one abbot, nine archdeacons, canons, rectors, and still other minor ecclesiastics. at one time in the university of bologna, in the registry of german corps, more than half the students were church dignitaries. sad to relate, many of these clerical students were among the most disorderly and troublesome of the academic population, the statutes vainly prescribing that they should sit "as quiet as girls;" while, as rashdall says, "even spiritual thunders had at times to be invoked to prevent them from shouting, playing, and interrupting." considering the youthfulness of what we may call the freshmen, as many of them went up to the universities at the early age already mentioned, it is not strange that we hear of "fetchers" or "carriers" or "bryngers," who were detailed to escort them home; but we must remember that the roads were dangerous in those days, and that protection of some kind was necessary even for men. proclamations against bearing arms usually made exceptions in favor of students travelling to or from the university. students, many of them, lived in halls, or, as we would say now, dormitories, and one of them assumed the rôle of principal, or was delegated to exercise certain authority. quite often this was the man who made himself responsible for the rent, whose authority came only from the voluntary consent of his fellow-students, or who was elected by them. when it came to the matter of discipline, the good old-fashioned birchen rod was not an unknown factor in university government. there seems to have been always a certain relationship between classic studies and corporal punishment. in mediæval university records allusions to this relationship began about the fifteenth century. in paris, about this time, when there were so many disgraceful factional fights, the rectors and proctors had occasionally to go to the colleges and halls and personally superintend the chastisement of the young rioters. we find also in the history of the university of louvain that flogging was at one time ordered by the faculty of arts for homicide or other grave outrages. it is worth while to recall for a moment how grave offences were dealt with in those days. at the university of ingolstadt one student killed another in a drunken quarrel, and was punished by the university by the confiscation of his scholastic effects and garments, but he was not even expelled. at prague a certain master of arts assisted in cutting the throat of a friar bishop, and was actually expelled for the deed. in those days drunkenness was rarely treated as a university offence. the penalties which were inflicted for the gravest outrages and immoralities were for the greater part puerile in the extreme. in most serious cases excommunication or imprisonment were the penalties, while lesser offences were punished by postponement of degree, expulsion from the college, temporary banishment from a university town, or by fines. in leipzig, in , the fine of ten new groschen was provided for the offense of lifting a stone or missile with a view of throwing it at a master, but not actually throwing it; whereas the act of throwing and missing increased the penalty to eight florins, while successful marksmanship was still more expensive. later statutes made distinction between hitting without wounding and wounding without mutilation, expulsion being the penalty for actual mutilation. with the beginning of the sixteenth century the practice of flogging the very poorest students appears to have been introduced. during these middle ages they had a peculiar fashion of expiating even grave offences. for example, at the sorbonne, if a fellow should assault or cruelly beat a servant he was fined a measure of good wine--not for the benefit of the servant, but for all the culprit's fellow-students. those were the days, too, when trifling lapses incurred each its own penalty. a doctor of divinity was fined a quart of wine for picking a pear off a tree in the college garden or forgetting to shut the chapel door. clerks were fined for being very drunk and committing insolences when in that condition. the head cook was fined for not putting salt in the soup. most of these fines being in the shape of liquors or wines, i imagine that the practice was more general because the penalty was shared in by all who were near. with lapse of time the statutes of the german universities gradually grew stricter until they became very minute and restrictive in the matter of unacademical pleasures. a visit to the tavern, or even to the kitchen of the college or hall, became a university offence. there were statutes against swearing, against games of chance, walking abroad without a companion, being out after eight in the winter or nine in the summer, making odious comparisons of country to country, etc. this was particularly true of the english universities, where a definite penalty was imposed for every offence, ranging from a quarter of a penny for not speaking latin to six shillings eight pence for assault with effusion of blood. the matter of constantly speaking latin led to a system of espionage, by which a secret system of spies, called "_lupi_" or wolves, was arranged; these were to inform against the "_vulgarisantes_," or those offenders who persisted in speaking in their mother tongue. it was the students of those days who set the example and the fashion of initiating, or, as we would say now, of hazing the newcomers. this custom of initiation, in one form or another, seems to have an almost hoary antiquity. as rashdall puts it, three deeply rooted instincts of human nature combine to put the custom almost beyond suppression. it satisfies alike the bullying instinct, the social instinct, and the desire to find at once the excuse and the means for a carouse. in the days of which we are speaking the _bejaunus_, which is a corruption of the old french _bec-jaune_ (or yellow bill), as the academic fledgling was called, had to be bullied and coaxed and teased in order to be welcomed as a comrade, and finally his "jocund advent" had to be celebrated by a feast furnished at his own expense. a history of the process of initiating would furnish one of the most singular chapters in university records. at first there were several prohibitions against all _bejaunia_, for the unfortunate youth's limited purse ill afforded even the first year's expenses. as the years went by certain restrictions were imposed, and by the sixteenth century the _depositio cornuum_ had become in the german universities a ceremony almost equal in importance to matriculation. the callow country youth was supposed to be a wild beast who must be deprived of his horns before he could be received into refined society in his new home. this constituted the _depositio_ for which he was supposed to arrange with his new masters, at the same time begging them to keep expenses as low as possible. soon after he matriculated he was visited in his room by two of the students, who would pretend to be investigating the source of an abominable odor. this would be subsequently discovered to be due to the newcomer himself, whom they would take at first to be a wild boar, but later discovery to be that rare creature known as a _bejaunus_, a creature of whom they had heard, but which they had never seen. after chaffing comments about his general ferocious aspect it would be suggested, with marked sympathy, that his horns might be removed by operation, the so-called _depositio_. the victim's face would then be smeared with some preparation, and certain formalities would be gone through with--clipping his ears, removal of his tusks, etc. finally, in fear lest the mock operation should be fatal, the patient would be shriven; one of the students, feigning himself a priest, would put his ear to the dying man's mouth and then repeat his confession. the boy was made to accuse himself of all sorts of enormities, and finally it was exacted as penance that he should provide a sumptuous banquet for his new masters and comrades. this latter ceremony consisted of a procession headed by a master in academic dress, followed by students in masquerading costume. certain further operative procedures were then gone through with, the beast was finally dehorned and his nose held to the grindstone, while a little later his chin was adorned with a beard made of burnt cork, and his wounded sensibilities assuaged by a dose of salt and wine. all this constituted a peculiar german custom, although some means of extorting money or bothering those who were initiated was practically universal. in germany this ceremony of _depositio_ seems to have led later to the bullying and fagging of juniors by seniors, that gave rise to indignities while at the same time it more than exceeded in brutality anything of which we have read in the english grammar schools. these excesses reached their highest in the seventeenth century, and for a long time defied all efforts of both government and university authorities to suppress them. in southern france this initiation assumed somewhat different form. here the freshman was treated as a criminal, and had to be tried for and released by purgation from the consequences of his original sin. at avignon this purgation of freshmen was made the primary purpose of a religious fraternity formed under ecclesiastical sanction, and with a chapel in the dominican church. (rashdall). the preamble of its constitution piously boasted that its object was to put a stop to enormities, drunkenness and immorality, but its practices were at extreme variance with its avowed purposes. the matter of academical dress may interest for a moment. during the middle ages there was for the undergraduate nothing which could be properly called academic dress. in the italian universities the students wore a long black garment known as a "cappa." in the parisian universities every student was required by custom or statute to wear a tonsure and a clerical habit, such "indecent, dissolute, or secular" apparel as puffed sleeves, pointed shoes, colored boots, etc., being positively forbidden; and so the clothes of uniform color and material, like those worn in some of the english charitable schools, have been the result of the uniform dress of a particular color which mediæval students were supposed to wear, and which indicated that at the time they were supposed to be clerks. at one time the so-called queen's men in oxford university were required to wear bright red garments, and differences of color and ornament still survive in the undergraduate gowns of cambridge. while the students usually wore dark-hued material, the higher officials of the universities wore more and more elaborate garments, until the rector appeared in violet or purple, perhaps with fur trimmings. the hoods, which are still worn to-day, were at one time made of lamb's wool or rabbit's fur, silk, such as those which we wear, coming in as a summer alternative at the end of the fourteenth century. the birretta, or square cap, with a tuft on the top, in lieu of the modern tassel on top of the square cap, was a distinctive badge of membership, while doctors and superior officers were distinguished by the red or violet color of their birrettas. this so-called "philosophy of clothes" throws much light upon the relation of the church to the universities, as well as on the use and misuse of the term "clericus." that a man was a _clericus_ in the middle ages did not necessarily imply that he had taken even the lowest grade of clerical orders. it simply implied that he was a clerk, i. e., a student. even the wearing of a so-called clerical dress was rather in order that the wearer might enjoy exemption from secular courts and the privileges of the clerical order. the lowest of the people even took the clerical tonsure simply in order to get the benefit of clergy; and to become a clerk was at one time almost equivalent to taking out a license for the commission of murder or outrage with comparative immunity. nevertheless, the relation between clerkship and minor orders is still quite obscure. it is quite evident that students of those days were not worked as hard as those of the present day. three lectures a day constituted a maximum of work of this kind, beside which there were disputations and "resumpciones," which seem to have corresponded very much to the quizzes of to-day, scholars being examined or catechised, sometimes even by the lecturer himself. gradually supplementary lectures were introduced, but there was a period during which the university seemed to decline and decay rather than the reverse, when intellectual life was not nearly as active and studies not nearly as closely pursued. in the days of thomas aquinas intellectual vigor was at its highest, but in the fifteenth century there was a distinct falling off. during these centuries, too, it was not unusual that students attended mass or religious services before going to lectures. this practice grew during the latter portion of the middle ages. attendance was not, however, compulsory. even at oxford the statutes of the new college were the first which required daily attendance at mass. in those days lectures began at six in the morning in summer, and sometimes as late as seven in the winter mornings. there is every reason to think that often lectures were given in the darkness preceding dawn, and even without artificial light. it should be said that these lectures were sometimes three hours in duration, and hence it might appear that three such lectures a day were about all that could be expected of a student. the standard of living for the mediæval student was not always so bad as has been sometimes represented. university students then, as now, were recruited from the highest as well as the poorest social classes, and the young sons of princely families often had about them quite an establishment. at the lower end of the university social ladder was the poor scholar who was reduced to begging for his living or becoming a servant in one of the colleges. in vienna and elsewhere there were halls whose inmates were regularly sent out to beg, the proceeds of their mendicancy being placed in a common chest. very poor scholars were often granted licenses to beg by the chancellor. this was not regarded as a particular degradation, however, because the example of the friars had made begging comparatively respectable. those who would have been ashamed to work hard were not ashamed to beg. this custom, for that matter, is by no means yet abandoned. when i was first studying in vienna, in , i remember a young german nobleman who was reduced to such an extent that he lived absolutely on the charity of others. he kept a little book in which he had it set down that on such a day such a person had promised to give him so much toward his support, and he called regularly on his list of supporters, and almost daily, in order that the gulden which they had promised him might be forthcoming. there is the good old story you know, also, of the three students who were so poor that they had but one cappa or gown between them, in which they took turns to go to lectures. in the small university towns, where thousands of students gathered together during a part of the year--where means of carrying food were scanty, and food itself not abundant--it is not strange that student fare was often of the most meagre sort. the matter of food was not the only hardship of student life in those days about which we are talking. at that time such a thing as a fire in a lecture-room was unknown, there being no source of warmth or comfort, save, perhaps, straw or rushes upon the floor. the winter in the northern university towns must have been severe, but it is not likely that either in the lecture-room or in his own apartments did the student have any comfort from heat. this was true to such an extent that they often sought the kitchens for comfort. in germany it was even one of the duties of the head of the college to inspect the college-rooms lest the occupants should have supplied themselves with some source of heat. in some places, however, there was a common hall or combination room in which a fire was built in cold weather. you must remember, also, that glass windows were an exceptional luxury until toward the close of the period under discussion. in padua the windows of the schools were made of linen. in a glass window was for the first time introduced into the theological school at prague. in the rooms inhabited by some of the junior fellows at cambridge were still unprovided with glass windows. add to these hardships the relative expense of lights, when the average price of candles was nearly two pence per pound, and you will see that the poorest student could not afford to study by artificial light. some of the senior students may have had bedsteads, but the younger students slept mostly upon the floor. in some places there were cisterns or troughs of lead, or occasionally pitchers and bowls were provided, but usually the student had to resort to the public lavatory in the hall. along with these hardships consider the amusements of this period, which were for the greater part conspicuous by their absence. statutes concerning amusements were often more stringent than those concerning crime or vice. these were essentially military times, and tournaments, hunting, and hawking, which were enjoyed by the upper social classes, were considered too expensive and distracting for university students, and were consequently forbidden. "mortification of the flesh" was the cry of those days, as even now among some religious fanatics. even playing with a ball or bat was at times forbidden, along with other "insolent games." a statute of the sixteenth century speaks of tennis and fives as among "indecent games" whose introduction would create scandal in and against the college. games of chance and playing for money were also forbidden; nevertheless, they were more or less practised. even chess enjoyed a bad reputation among the mediæval moralists, and was characterized by a certain bishop of winchester as a "noxious, inordinate, and unhonest game." dancing was rather a favorite amusement, but was repressed as far as possible, since the celebrated william of wykeham found it necessary to prohibit dancing and jumping in the chapel. apparently, then, in those days a good student amused himself little, if at all, and had to find his relaxation in the frequent interruptions caused by church holidays. at st. andrew's, in scotland, however, two days' holiday was allowed at carnival time expressly for cock-fighting. on the evenings of festival days entertainments were occasionally provided by strolling players, jesters, or mountebanks, who were largely patronized by students. altogether, it is not strange that students in those days fell into dissolute habits, many having to be expelled or punished. we can even understand how some of them actually turned highwaymen and waylaid their more peaceful brothers as they approached the universities with money for the ensuing season. in the archives of the university of leipzig there are standard forms of proclamation against even such boyish follies as pea-shooting, destruction of trees and crops, throwing water out of the window upon passers-by, shouting at night, wearing of disguises, interfering with a hangman in the execution of his duty, or attending exhibitions of wrestling, boxing, and the like. evidently, then, university life had its exceedingly wild side. one needs only to recall the history of the famous latin quarter in paris to be convinced of this. this was the students' quarter in the old city of paris as extended by philip augustus across the river. paris then was surrounded by a cordon of monasteries, whose abbots exercised jurisdiction over their surrounding districts. just to the west of the student quarter stood the great abbey of st. germain. between the monks of this monastery and the students there were frequent conflicts, and it is recorded that in , for instance, a pitched battle occurred between the monks, under their provost, on one side, and the unarmed and defenceless boys and masters, on the other, during which many were badly wounded, and some mortally. the matter was finally carried to court, and the monks were required to perform certain penances and to pay certain fines. their brutality, however, was not effectually suppressed. in the provost of paris hanged and gibbetted a student, and was punished therefor by the king; while the subsequent history of paris is one of constant conflict between students and the clerical orders. on the other hand, the clerical tonsure in which the parisian scholar clothed himself enabled him to indulge in all kinds of crime, without fear of that summary execution which would have been his fate had he been merely an ordinary beggar. bibulousness was another striking characteristic of mediæval university life. in those days they knew not tea nor coffee nor tobacco, but spirituous liquors in some form were far from unknown to them. no important event of life could be transacted without its drinking accompaniment. at all exercises, public or private, wine was freely provided, and many of the feasts and festivals which began with mass were concluded with a drunken orgie. you have observed that so far i have made frequent mention of clerical matters. in truth, in northern europe the church included practically all the learned professions, including the civil servants of the government, the physicians, architects, secular lawyers, diplomatists, and secretaries, who were all ecclesiastics. it is true that in order to be a "clerk" it was not really necessary to take even minor orders, but it was so easy for a king or bishop to reward his physician, his lawyer, or his secretary by a monastic office rather than by a large salary, that the average student, at least in the larger places, looked to holy orders as his eventual destination. how much of insincerity and hypocrisy there were among those reverend gentlemen thus constituted you may imagine better than i can picture. the reformation, as well as the increasing corruption of the monastic orders, brought about changes which were not rapid, but which became almost complete, and led finally to the partial restoration of the ancient dignity of the early church. without pursuing this part of the subject further, it may be imagined what a general alteration and reformation in all branches of study, as well as in the general intellectual life of the people, the founding of the universities accomplished. for the greater part designed for the confirmation of the faith, they often brought about a reaction against it. like the other integral portions of the university, the medical departments of nearly all the mediæval institutions came into existence through voluntary associations of physicians and would-be teachers. for a long time medicine was included under the general head of philosophy, whose standard-bearers were aristotle and the arabians. at tübingen, in , the medical student's days were divided about as follows: in the morning he studied galen's _ars medici_, and in the afternoon avicenna on _fever_. during the second year, in the forenoon he studied avicenna's _anatomy and physiology_, and in the afternoon the ninth book of rhazes on _local pathology_. the forenoons of his third year were spent with the _aphorisms_ of hippocrates, and in the afternoon he studied galen. if any text-book on surgery at all were used it was usually that of avicenna. some time was also given to the writings of some of the other arabian physicians. at that time any man who had studied medicine for three years and attained the age of twenty-one might assume the rôle of teacher if he saw fit, being compelled only, at first, to lecture upon the preparatory branches. he was at that time called a _baccalaureus_. after three years' further study he became a _magister_ or _doctor_, although for the latter title a still further course of study was usually prescribed. the courses of medical instruction were quite stereotyped in form, and were carefully watched over by the church. nevertheless, it came about that the study of medicine once more was taken up by thinkers, although, unfortunately, not logical thinkers, whereas previously it had been almost entirely confined within the ranks of the clerics or clergy. the most celebrated of all these mediæval philosophers in science and medicine was albert von bollstaedt, usually known as albertus magnus, who died in . his works which remain to us fill twenty-one quarto volumes, in which he discussed both anatomical and physiological questions. it is exceedingly illustrative of the foolishly speculative vein in which many of these discussions were carried on, that they seriously discussed such questions as whether the removal of the rib from adam's side, out of which eve was formed, really caused adam severe pain, and whether at the judgment day that loss of rib would be compensated by the insertion of another. those were the days, also, when it was seriously discussed whether adam or eve ever had a navel. in spite of such follies, however, albertus magnus left an impression upon scholarship in science, in a general way, which long outlasted him. these were the days when the students organized themselves into so-called "nations," whence arose that conspicuous features of german university life of today of so-called students' corps. these nations--each composed, for the main part, of men of one nationality--had their own meeting-places, their own property, etc. one of the principal means of instruction in those days was disputations, or, as we would say, debates, held between students, often of different nations, in which they were expected to prove their knowledge and mental alertness. when it is recalled that universities were larger--i. e., better attended--in those days than now, it will be seen to what an extent these nations were developed. oxford, in , is said to have had no less than , students; paris about the same time had , ; and bologna had some , students, the majority of whom were studying law. the title of doctor came into vogue about the twelfth century. at first it was confined to teachers proper, and was bestowed upon the learned--i. e., those who had almost solely studied internal medicine, and who were required to take an oath to maintain the methods which had been taught them. for the title of doctor certain fees were paid, partly in money and partly in merchandise. the so-called presents consisted of gloves, clothes, hats, caps, etc. at salernum it cost about $ to graduate in this way, while at paris the cost was sometimes as high as $ , , and this at a time when money had much more purchasing value than it has to-day. it was then, as now, a peculiar feature of the english universities that but little systematic instruction in medical science was given. just as the majority of english students at present study in london rather than at one of the great universities, so in those days did they go to paris or montpellier. this will be perhaps as good a place as any to emphasize the fact that the clergy, having so long monopolized all learning and teaching, and having, at the same time, an abhorrence for the shedding of blood, which indeed had been prohibited by many papal bulls and royal edicts, permitted the practice of the operative part of medicine--i. e., surgery--to fall into the hands of the most illiterate and incompetent men. inasmuch as the church prohibited the wearing of beards, and as many of the religious orders also shaved their heads, there were attached to every monastery and to every religious order a number of barbers, whose duty was to take care of the clergy in these respects. thus into their hands was gradually committed the performance of any minor operation which involved the letting of blood, and from this, as a beginning, it came about that no really educated man concerned himself with the operations of surgery, but left them entirely to the illiterate servants of the church. this is really the reason that the barbers for many centuries did nearly all the surgery, and why, at the same time, surgery fell into such general and wide-spread disrepute. from this it was only revived about one hundred years ago. did time permit, this would be a most appropriate place to digress from the subject of this paper and rehearse to you the various stages in the evolution of the surgeon from the barber; but time does not permit it, and it constitutes a chapter in history by itself, which must be relegated to some other occasion. (see p. ). it was about the beginning of the fifteenth century that the better class of physicians began to belong to the laity, and were called "physici" in contrast to the "clerici." later they were known as "doctores." until the fourteenth century most of them studied in italian or french universities, the germans even being compelled to go to these foreign institutions. in paris they were required to take an oath that they would not join the surgeons. this regulation was founded as much upon spite and envy as upon any other motive. many of the clerical physicians belonged to the lower class, and were so ignorant that even the church itself was forced to declare many of their successes miracles. although monks and the clergy in general had been frequently forbidden to practice medicine, the decrees to this effect were quite generally disregarded, except in the matter of surgical operations. in the ranks of the higher clergy it must be said that well-educated physicians were occasionally found. there is, for instance, the record of a certain bishop of basel, who was deputed to seek from pope clement v. an archbishopric for another person, but finding the pope seriously ill, cured him, and received for himself in return the electorate of mayence, which was perhaps one of the largest honorariums ever given to a physician. these were the days when magic, mingled with mystery, played no small rôle in the practice of medicine, and when disgusting and curious remedies were quite in vogue. superstition and ignorance everywhere played a most prominent part. for instance, it was, in those days, an excellent remedy to creep under the coffin of a saint. when a person was poisoned it was considered wise to hang him up by the feet and perhaps to gouge out one of his eyes, in order that the poison might run out. it should be noted that putting out the eyes was frightfully common in the middle ages, mainly as a matter of punishment. it is said, for instance, that the emperor basil ii. on one occasion put out the eyes of , bulgarians, leaving one eye to one of every thousand, in order that he might lead his more unfortunate fellow-sufferers back to their ruler, who, it is said, at the sight of this outrage swooned and died in two days. it is said, too, that this is the reason why the emperor albrecht was one-eyed. what the revival of learning could thus and did accomplish under these conditions as above portrayed may be readily appreciated. the restoration of greek literature, the revival of anatomy, the habit of independent observation--all told materially in this renaissance of medicine. the italian universities became the objective point of all who desired a thorough medical education. the students chose the lecturers and officers of the university and had a large voice in the construction of the curriculum. the officers of their selection negotiated with those of the state, at least until the close of the sixteenth century. in spite of this general renaissance of medical learning and the impetus felt by the inspired few during the sixteenth century, it must be said that the general condition of medical science and of those who practised it was not greatly improved. the superstition of the common people and the timidity and indolence of all concerned were about as marked as they have ever been in the history of human error, and the practice of medicine was at least a century behind the applied knowledge of the other arts and sciences. at that time the best physicians and doctors were to be found in the italian universities, the french coming next, and, last of all, the german. the italian universities were the mecca sought by those who desired the best education of the day, and of all the italian medical faculties those of bologna, pisa, and padua ranked highest. those were the days, also, of the travelling scholars--a very marked feature of mediæval life. they migrated from one of the latin schools to another, and from one famous teacher to another, sometimes travelling alone, at other times in groups or bands, and practising often the worst barbarities while _en route_, supporting themselves by begging and stealing. on their marches they stole almost everything which was not tightly fastened down, and prepared their food even in the open fields. the result was that most of them fell into dissolute habits of life. a somewhat better class of vagrant students sang hymns before doors and received food as pay. some earned money singing in the churches. they apparently both drank more beer and at less cost than at present. at that time the cost of beer was about one cent for a large glass. the younger students were called "schutzen," and, like apprentices in trades, were obliged to perform the most menial duties. the older students were known as the "bacchanten," and each bacchant was honored in proportion to the number of "schutzen" who waited upon him. when, however, this bacchant himself reached the university he was compelled to lay aside his rough clothing and rude manners and take an oath to behave himself. not only the students, however, wandered from place to place, but even the professors of the sixteenth century were nomadic, wandering from one university to another; for example, vesalius, the great teacher of anatomy, taught in padua, in pisa, in louvain, in basel, in augsburg, and in spain. these habits may be partly accounted for by the fact that the students elected at least some of their teachers, and the professors who failed of re-election certainly may be considered to have had a motive for moving on. salaries were certainly not large in those days. melanchthon, the great theologian, received during his first eight years a salary of $ per annum, and by strict economy was able during this period to buy his wife a new dress. during his later years his salary attained the sum of $ , which would be equivalent to $ to-day. when vesalius died his salary was $ , per annum, to which certain fees were added. it is not strange, therefore, that many of the professors pursued reputable occupations during their odd hours or that they took students to board. we hear to-day of frequent illustrations of the pursuit of knowledge under difficulty, but certainly during the ages to which i have referred the ardent student, were he undergraduate or professor, put up with an amount of hardship, meagre fare, and trouble of all kinds which would stagger most of the young men of to-day. men were human then as now, and the universities were not above disputes and quarrels, which sometimes became very bitter and dishonorable, but were the indirect instrument of good, since they led in not a few instances to the founding of other universities. thus, about the beginning of the sixteenth century, pistorius and pollich were both teachers in leipzig, but holding antagonistic views regarding the nature of syphilis, became so embittered that they could not bear each other's presence, and each resolved to seek another home. the former influenced the elector to select frankfort-on-the-oder as the site of a new university, while the latter was the means of founding another at wittenberg. it is pretty hard to keep away from the relation of the barber to the anatomist and surgeon when discussing this subject. in another place i have dealt with the evolution of the surgeon from the barber, (see page ) and have endeavored to show that the principal factor which operated to keep back the progress of surgery during the eighteen centuries previous to the last was the influence of the church, which opposed the study of anatomy and degraded the practice of surgery. in the times to which i am referring now, an operation which caused the shedding of blood was considered beneath the dignity of an educated physician, and, in some circles, was regarded even as disreputable. it was, therefore, left to the only class of men who were supposed to know how to handle a knife or sharp instrument, i. e., the barbers. when operations were done in universities papal indulgences were often required, and these cost money, since in those days the pope gave nothing for nothing. public dissection required also papal indulgences, although in strasburg, in , permission to dissect the body of an executed criminal was granted by the magistrates in spite of papal prohibition. the ceremonies attending demonstrations of this kind were both fantastic and amusing. a corpse was ordinarily regarded as disreputable, and had first to be made reputable by reading a decree to that effect from the chief magistrate or lord of the land, and then, by order of the university, stamping the body with the seal of the corporation. it was carried upon the cover of the box in which it had been transported into the anatomical hall, which cover, upon which it rested through the ceremonies, was taken back afterward to the executioner, who remained at some distance with his vehicle. if the corpse was that of one who had been beheaded, the head during the performance of these solemn ceremonies lay between its legs. after the completion of the ceremonies the occasion was graced with music by the city fifers, trumpeters, etc., or an entertainment was given by itinerant actors (baas). in time, however, this folly was given up, and by the latter half of the sixteenth century public anatomical theatres were established. the most celebrated was built by fabricus ab aquapendente, in padua. it was so high, however, and so dark that dissections even in broad daylight could only be made visible by torchlight. the zeal with which gradually the better class of physicians pursued their scientific studies became more and more conspicuous, evidenced in many ways by the hardships with which some of them had to deal, as witness the struggles of many of the great anatomists of those days. and so in time the clergy disappeared almost entirely from the ranks of public physicians, and after the thirty years' war completely lost their supremacy even in literary matters, this being gradually usurped by the nobility and the more educated laymen; but even then knowledge was pursued under difficulties, especially the study of anatomy. it was not until that a mounted skeleton could be found in vienna. strasburg obtained one in . the handling of the dead body, which we regard as so necessary, was in those days avoided as much as possible. the professor of anatomy rarely, if ever, touched it himself, but he lectured or read a lecture while the actual dissection was done with a razor by a barber, under his supervision. practical instruction in obstetrics, which would seem almost as important as that in anatomy, was not given in those days; male students only studied it theoretically. in the hôtel dieu, in paris, that part which was devoted to instruction in midwifery was closed against men. it was the midwives in those days who enjoyed the monopoly of this teaching, and upon whom the greatest dependence for obstetrical ability was placed. the physicians proper, or _medici puri_ of the seventeenth century, were individuals of greatest dignity and profoundest gravity, who wore fur-trimmed robes, perukes, and carried swords, who considered it beneath them to do anything more than write prescriptions in the old galenic fashion. some continuation of this is seen in the distinction made even to-day in england between the physicians who enjoy the title of doctor and the surgeons who affect to disdain it. these old physicians knowing nothing of surgery, nevertheless demanded to be always consulted in surgical cases, claiming that only by this course could things go right. still when elements of danger were introduced, as in treating the plague, they were glad enough to send the barber surgeons into the presence of the sick, whom they merely inspected through panes of glass. very entertaining pictures could be furnished you illustrating the habits of the physicians of two or three hundred years ago in dealing with these contagious cases. the masks and armor which they wore and the precautions which they took would seem to indicate protection rather against the weapons of mediæval warfare. at one time they were advised that if they must go into actual contact with these patients they should first repeat the twenty-second psalm. you may find in the old books, if you will hunt for them, curious pictures illustrating the precautions taken a few hundred years ago against the pestilence, of whose nature they knew nothing, and seeing them you may imagine the vague dread and even the abject fear which led the _physici puri_ or physicians to send the barbers in to minister to plague-stricken patients, while they contented themselves with ministering at long range to their needs. but gentlemen, i fear lest i weary you with a longer rehearsal of mediæval customs and student follies. while they have all passed away some of them have survived either in tradition or in modified form, as will surely have occurred to you while they were rehearsed. you will not fail to note the steady progress of an ethical evolution which has toned down the barbarities and the asperities of the past, and which has substituted a far more ennobling life-purpose and method of its accomplishment than seemed to actuate your predecessors of long ago. it is small wonder that the students of those days bore an ill-repute with their surrounding neighbors. you may see better now, perhaps, why the medical student even of to-day has to contend with a prejudice against both his calling and himself, a prejudice begotten of the many debaucheries and misdeeds of his predecessors, and, i am sorry to say, even certain excesses of to-day. i do not know how i may more fittingly terminate these remarks than by reminding you that the profession which you students hope to enter has suffered most seriously in time past from the character of the men who have entered it, and that even to-day certain of its members fail to have a proper regard for its dignity. it is axiomatic that those slights and indignities from which we often suffer, and the neglect and indifference of which we often complain, are in effect the result of our own shortcomings, and that we are ourselves largely to blame because of that which does not suit us. i beg you then to remember that even at the outset of student life there should be ever before you such an ideal of intellectual force and dignity, of power, of co-ordination of mind and body, as may keep you ever in the right way, so that when you at last attain your goal you may deserve that sort of benediction which i find in one of beaumont and fletcher's plays (_custom of the country_, v. iv.): "so may you ever be styled the 'hands of heaven,' nature's restorers; get wealth and honors, and, by your success in all your undertakings, propagate a great opinion in the world." ix a study of medical words, deeds and men[ ] [ ] address in medicine, delivered june , , at yale university commencement. [reprinted from the _yale medical journal_, july, .] _study nature for facts; study lives of great men for inspiration how to use them_ never have i more earnestly craved the gift of eloquence than on occasions like this, when young men are about to leave the halls in which and the men with whom they have grown into man's estate, in order to assume the solemn and weighty responsibilities not only of their own lives but those as well of others. the day upon which you are thus released from duties of one kind to assume those of another, welcome and joyous though it may be, should nevertheless be interspersed with some serious and earnest thoughts and resolutions. old yale sets now her stamp upon you. it will prove a passport to many homes, but must never be abused. it will entitle you to the society of the cultivated and to the respect of scholars everywhere. it will admit you to the ranks of the learned and cause you to be treated with respect and equality by some of the profoundest and most scholarly thinkers the world has even known. yale has now furnished you with that which her ripe experience has shown to be requisite for young men commencing professional careers. as contrasted with the total of human knowledge its aggregate is not large, but it has not for centuries been the custom for men to grow gray in studies before undertaking to practice medicine, and when your own qualifications are compared with those which we of the passing generation possessed at the corresponding period of our lives, the comparison will furnish at the same time the most startling illustration of the rapid advance of medicine in the past twenty-five years. yale has always been eminent for the versatility and originality of her teachers. her medical history has been so well told during the past year by one of her most honored sons, dr. welch, that it is not necessary nor wise to go now into such historical details. the trend of science to-day is along the lines of comparative investigation, and the bible is by no means the only literary collection which to-day is being subjected to the "higher criticism." the inspiration claimed for the contributors to that great ancient collection is denied to the writers of great modern works, where, nevertheless, fundamental truth is as requisite for the welfare of the body as in the other for that of the soul. only by painstaking research, laboriously repeated, do we clear the old paths of the rubbish of centuries or discover totally new ones. pathfinders of this description have always abounded in this great institution, drawn by common impulses or attracted by some centripetal force. and though it were perhaps invidious to mention names, i nevertheless must select two of yale's great teachers whose names are still green in the memory of all men, and ask you to note how the examples they have set and the work they have done may furnish the line of thought in which i wish you to follow me for a little while. the science of comparative philology would seem to be far removed from that of medicine. still, it is based upon an ultimate analysis of parts of speech, and men like professor whitney were, not only the comparative anatomists, but even the histologists--if i may use the phrase--of words. comparative philology then is to medical terminology what embryology and comparative anatomy are to a study of the structure of the human body. the philologist loves to dissect words and trace them back through rudimentary stages and roots to their earliest forms. he loves also to study the evolution of an idea as conveyed by a word, and trace atavism or reversion in human speech. again you have here at yale a wonderful collection of extinct animal remains restored with marvellous accuracy to semblance of their original form and appearance. the indefatigable industry and wonderful ability of professor marsh and his co-workers have enabled us to form ideographs of the living forms of earlier geologic ages upon this earth, which could not have been furnished had it not been for their remarkable knowledge of morphology and skill in synthesis. indeed, where have powers of analysis and synthesis been more brilliantly displayed than by these men. it used to be said of cuvier, the great french comparative anatomist, that if given a tooth from any beast, past or present, he could describe the animal and its habits as well as reconstruct his skeleton, so wonderfully are minute differences perpetuated, and so familiar was he with them. let us see, then, if it be possible to take some of our common medical words and by applying to them the methods of whitney and of marsh follow them back to their early forms and significances, and then construct from them ideographs of the customs, habits and superstitions of the men who used them. such a plan systematically carried out might furnish both a fitting and a novel introduction to the history of medicine. coleridge, you know, said we might often derive more useful knowledge from the history of a word than from the history of a campaign. take, for instance, our word _idiocy_. the greeks, especially the athenians, were a race of politicians. private citizens who cared little or naught for office were the _idiotai_, as distinguished from the public officials and office holders. it came about in time that men of such retiring habits and modest tastes were regarded as persons of degraded intellect and taste. and so the _iviwrai_ were considered of inferior intellectual capacity. in other words, the idiot of those days was the man content with private life. how different from the present day when conditions seem so nearly reversed. our kindred word _imbecile_ has also present reference to those of feeble, dwarfed or perverted intellect, and refers rather to mental than physical defects, though both must often be associated. but originally the lame and the deformed who were obliged to use artificial support, walked as it was said, _in bacillum_, upon a stick or crutch, and from this expression we derive our word imbecile. let us trace, for instance, again, the etymology of our word _palate_. the latin _palatum_ is the same as _balatum_, that is, the bleating part. the ancient shepherds of the region of the campagna watched the sheep as they went bleating (_balatans_) over those hills, one of which subsequently became the _palatine_. or take again our word _mania_. it is derived from _unv_ the moon, meaning the moon-sickness, and corresponds to lunacy from _luna_. you see the ancient superstition concerning the influence of the moon abides in the name. this brings up again the old ideas concerning the metal silver which was sacred alike to diana and the moon, and consequently feminine in sex and attributes. hence comes the mediæval alchemistic term _lunar caustic_, and hence, too, comes its use in the treatment of epilepsy for which it was formerly much in use, since epilepsy was regarded as a form of mania caused by the evil influence of the moon. by the way, this may also remind us of the peculiar views of the alchemists of the middle ages, who believed that the property of sex inhered in the metals. they believed, for example, that arsenic was masculine in sex, and so named it from _arsen_, male, and _arsenikos_, masculine. medical, like comparative philology, is the more or less direct outcome of the earth's physical features as they have influenced the commingling of races and the conquest of nations. medicine seems a science of aryan parentage; in the sanscrit the literature of medicine is rich; it was cultivated by the greeks, but it lost much of its original significance by virtue of roman supremacy, as the latin races took it over. under the arabians it flourished after a fashion. with the revival of greek learning there was a restoration of much that had been lost, but the supremacy of the church kept it within extremely narrow limits, though the clericals could not eliminate all the arabian words which had crept into its terminology. greek is to-day the language to which we turn for aid when it becomes necessary to invent new terms by which to indicate fresh discoveries or concepts. the debt of medicine to our aryan forefathers is great. surgery was then a dignified branch of the science. their autoplastic methods were conceived with great ingenuity and carried out with much, albeit with crude skill. the so-called indian method of reconstructing a nose bears witness to their ability in plastic art. their itinerant surgeons performed many capital operations; i. e., lithotomy and coeliotomy. there is good reason to believe that hippocrates knew nothing of practical anatomy, whereas, long before him susruta urged that all physician priests should dissect the human body in order that they might know its structure; and gave, moreover, directions for the selection of suitable subjects. the sanscrit writers knew the properties of many plants and of at least five of the metals. many greek names of drugs are derived from the sanscrit, or else they had a common aryan origin. thus the greek equivalents for our words castor, musk, cardamon, chestnut, hemp, mace, pepper, sandal-wood, ginger, nerve, marrow, bone, heart, and head, are unmistakably of much older, i. e., sanscrit or aryan stock, several of them coming down in romanized form, but almost unchanged--e. g., os, cor, moschus, cannabis, castorion. although many of the ancient greeks visited india, it appears that but relatively few words have come to us from this ancient source. our word sulphur, though, is of sanscrit origin, the greek word _theion_ indicating its divine or god-given purifying power, with possible allusion to its utility in that lower world with which the theologians most often associate it. the greek word appears in our chemical nomenclature as dithionic, trithionic, etc. we note also an almost complete absence of egyptian words, though many cultured greeks visited egypt. nevertheless, the latter looked with small favor on barbarisms of speech, and our word pyramid is one of the very few which they thus adopted. the term surgery is of very distinct greek origin, and meant handwork as distinguished from the action of internal remedies. medicine seems to be derived from _medeo_ to take care of, to provide, and physic and physician from _phusis_, i. e., nature. the physici were originally naturalists, or scientists, like aristotle, medical science being but a part of their study. campbell in his book ("the language of medicine") gives a list of at least two dozen common terms of to-day which were employed by homer. in addition to these, many other homeric terms are still in use, but with more or less altered or perverted meanings; for example, æther, when used in the sense of its being a narcotic agency; astragalus, which originally meant a die, since the analogous bones of the sheep were used for dice; amoeba, from _amoibe_, change or alteration, alluding to constant change of shape. ammon originally meant a young lamb, iris a halo, meconium has reference to the juice of the poppy, from _mekon_, opium; molybdenum was so named from its resemblance to lead, narcosis originally meant numbness; the pleura was the side; the original phial was a saucer; the phalanges were so called because they were arranged side by side as it were in a phalanx; our troche was at first a wheel; and our tympanum was the original greek drum, the word still persisting in musical terminology. the arteries were so named because they were supposed to contain air, while the veins were the gushers, from _phleo_, to gush or flow. the original confusion of nerves and tendons appears in the term aponeurosis. long ago there were two rival medical factions among the greeks, the empirics, from _empeirikos_, meaning experimental--who believed there were no philosophic underlying principles of medical science, and that experience alone was the safe guide,--and the methodists, from _methodos_, who believed it better to follow the _hodos_, or "middle of the road." the present use of the word empiric shows the contempt with which the former came to be regarded. as cure (_curo_) meant to care for, so did medicus have the same meaning, as already remarked, while the greek slave, _therapon_, who waited on his master, became later the therapeutist who cared for his ailments. our word to heal has also a somewhat similar dislocated meaning, since originally it meant protection, i. e., covering. the same root persists in hell, i. e., hades, referring to a certain supposititious locality so well covered that from it there is no escape. note, too, the influence of ancient mythology in medical phraseology. jupiter ammon, the horned god, is recognized in hartshorn or ammonia. mars, the god of war, whose symbol is iron, persists in the so-called martial preparations or ferruginous tonics. venus and aphrodite naturally appear in venereal and aphrodisiac, while vulcan's rôle is indicated in the heat to which caoutchouc is subjected in vulcanizing rubber. mercury appears not only in roman form as a metal, but in his greek rôle as hermes, not to be forgotten when receptacles are hermetically sealed. let us cut short a longer list by simply noting in passing how the greek cupid eros and his mate psyche are perpetuated in our terms erotic and psychiatry, while morpheus, the god of sleep, can never be forgotten so long as morphine is in use. that the wrath of the gods was to be dreaded is indicated in our word plague, from _plege_, meaning a _blow_ from that source, that is their vengeance. you thus see the antiquity of the notion that epidemics were a divine visitation, and not due to bad sanitation. melancholia, _melas_ and _chole_, meant originally black bile. in ancient physiology the bile played a very important part, and the results of hepatic insufficiency were not only indicated by this name, but the advantages of the use of calomel were amply emphasized by its name, _kalos_ and _melas_, for it was a beautiful remedy for this blackness. another condition indicating trouble with the liver, which we call jaundice to-day (from the french _jaunisse_), was known as icterus from _ikteros_, a yellow bird. the poultice which the average housewife of to-day is so fond of using, was originally a _poltos_, or pudding, or perhaps a bean porridge. in the days of ancient sacrifices one part of the animal was not placed upon the altar as an offering to delight the gods. it was that now known as the _sacrum_, which is usually defined to have been considered the sacred bone. the adjective _sacer_ (sacrum), had not only the meaning generally ascribed to it, but meant also execrable, detestable, accursed. the sacrum meant then rather the part that was not acceptable to those to whom it was offered. the word _calculus_, like the term to calculate, must remind us of the presence of pebbles and their early use in facilitating reckoning, while our common terms testimony, testify, must necessarily recall the ancient sacred but phallic methods of oath-taking. another superstition connected with deity is perpetuated in the term _iliac passion_, formerly applied to volvulus, or one form of acute bowel obstruction with its violent pain, which has been compared to that produced by the spear-point as part of the suffering upon the cross. a keen analysis of the situation at the beginning of the christian era reveals the subtlety of the greek character. the names of those organs which called for deep investigation or dissection are taken directly from the greek, e. g., hepatic, sphenoid, ethmoid, the aorta, while many of the superficial parts have latin names, e. g., temporal, frontal. it is to the greek that all nations almost invariably turn when they seek to fashion new terms with which to characterize or name new discoveries. the romans showed their appreciation of that which was good when they so readily adopted the science and learning of the greeks, and were willing to take over even their gods. the latin races have always been good imitators but poor originators, save perhaps in war and politics. had they been willing to imitate the greeks in these their history might have been very different. when the latin translators of greek medical literature lacked for a word they cheerfully took the original, sometimes giving it a latin dress. for instance, that which we now call the duodenum, meaning only twelve, was originally the dodekadaktulon, meaning that it was of a length equal to the width of twelve fingers, while they twisted the name _eileon_, the twisted intestine, into _ileum_. but the names of most diseases, like those of the more concealed parts, they copied almost exactly. while in later ages the church completely dominated, then subordinated, and then finally almost terminated the study of the natural sciences, it is yet of no small interest to note the effect of the rise of christianity upon the study of medicine. it has been well said that the same "cross which brought light to religion cast a gloom over philosophy" (campbell). certain it is that the creed and the tenets which were for centuries the mainstay of christianity, and which did so much for the uplifting of mankind, were made the excuse for the gradual suppression of all tendency toward investigation of natural phenomena, and the monasteries, where scholars congregated, became the graves of scientific thought and study. and so in time knowledge was exiled from christian domiciles and transplanted to a mohammedan environment. with christian mythology and mysticism soon came also christian demonology, and disease was generally regarded as an evidence of diabolical possession. this gave rise then, as even now, to the imposters who pretended to cure it by exorcism of evil spirits or invocation of divine or superhuman aid. it has always been a sorry time for rational medicine when superstition is rife. even under the arabians science flourished to but a limited extent. their religion forbade the portrayal of any living object, animal or vegetable, consequently their works contained mere descriptions, never any illustration of any kind. this, by the way, is the explanation of their fondness for geometric tracery and of the richness of their ornamental designs. they professed the same horror of the dead body that was later inculcated by the church and most of them scorned dissection. what wonder then that under christianity and islam alike our profession fared badly. but very little now remains in our terminology to remind us of the period of arabian supremacy. the arabic words naphtha, sumach, alkali, alcohol, elixir and _nucha_ (neck) are almost the only ones which have survived the renaissance. how different the monkish latin sometimes is from the classic may appear in the use of the two words os and bucca for mouth, or os frontis and glabella for the frontal bone. but this enumeration must not be prolonged unduly. let us select three or four more examples almost at random and then pass on. but few will associate christianity with cretinism. the early christian inhabitants of the pyrenees were known as _christaas_, or in french, as to-day, as chretiens. a mountainous region did for them what it has done in switzerland for the races of to-day, and dwarfed the intellects of many while their thyroids underwent great enlargement. such degenerates are known everywhere to-day as cretins, i. e., christians. tarentum was the old calabrian city later known as tarento, where during the middle ages the dancing mania appeared in aggravated form. the frenzy was known in consequence as _tarantism_, while the spider whose bite was supposed to cause it was called _tarantula_, and a rapid dance music which alone would suit such rapid movements is still known as the _tarantella_. nightmare has reference to the old norse deity or demigod mara, who was supposed to strangle people during sleep. the sardonic grin has reference to a tradition that in sardinia was found a plant which when eaten caused people to laugh so violently that they died. but turn we now from words to those deeds which are reputed to proclaim yet more loudly the manner and the worth of their authors. where may one look for a profession which shall afford greater opportunities? and where may he find one in which incentives are so small? the world's great rewards have been paid to the great destroyers of our race rather than to its saviors. do you suppose that if napoleon had saved as many lives as he lost he would have figured in history with his present lustre? it is true that lister's discovery has saved many more lives than napoleon took. if so, the hôtel des invalides should, when the time comes, contain lister's monument and not that of a great murderer. personal courage is one of the noblest characteristics which any man can display, particularly so when it combines the moral and the physical type. public bravery brings nearly always its meed of public recognition. in fact, publicity is often the stimulus to a kind of bravery which without it would hardly respond to the tests. but your really courageous man is he who cares not for a search-light to reveal his deeds, one who dares and does within the quietude of his own environment that from which his weaker brothers would shrink. the soldier stirred to frenzy by the intensity of his passion will accomplish with but little dread that which might easily baffle the resolution of a reasoning man in a calm mood. the religious fanatic, be he mussulman or christian, may permit himself to be rent asunder rather than recant; but his motives are essentially selfish, since he looks forward to the mohammedan's or the christian's paradise, and so they are far from altruistic. but for that quiet heroism which shuns publicity, which calls for the highest quality of both mental and physical courage, which looks forward neither to the golden present nor the mystical yet sensuous future, commend me daily, yes hourly, to the sick rooms of patients suffering from diseases which menace the welfare of others, the infectious, the dangerous, the loathsome. one may read of late many stories of army surgeons doing heroic deeds under fire, and one's heart naturally thrills with emotion as he imagines the scenes and wonders what manner of daring may lead a man to risk his life after this fashion. but i submit to you, that brave as is such a deed and worthy of all possible honor, it has been hundreds of times for one exceeded in the actual devotion to duty and the resolution required to brave the elements, or to face death elsewhere than on the battlefield, or to surrender strength or mayhap life itself, or to invite disaster by infection, or to wear out and work out life in the constant grinding altruistic work of doing for others, who perhaps have violated every known sanitary law and forfeited their every right to live. here is a theme that might well stir the most eloquent poet or orator that ever lived. how then shall i do it justice? joanna bailie has well put it: "the brave man is not he who feels no fear, for that were stupid and irrational; but he whose nobler soul its fear subdues, and bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from." this recognition of our profession was accorded much more unstintingly nearly two thousand years ago, at a time when it was much less deserved, when cicero wrote (_de natura deorum_) "_homines ad deos nulla re propius accedunt, quam salutem hominibus dando._" (men are never more godlike than when giving health to mankind). but we can hardly delay longer here and at this time with the subject of heroism in medicine. i shall not have completed the matters which i wish to present to you to-day until i invite your attention to a short sketch of the careers of four or five of the men who, during the past two or three hundred years have set the example for men of all times and most climes, whose lives are so replete with that which is interesting, instructive or important that they may be well held up before a graduating class as illustrations of everything which may be advantageously imitated. they belong to that class of whom longfellow wrote: "lives of great men all remind us we can make our lives sublime." one of those was jean fernel, who was born in france about and died in . i do not know that his life history offers anything so very startling, although he came to be regarded as the most memorable physiologist of his generation, but he adopted a motto which i think we all might well select for our own, and it was because of this motto that i have mentioned his name at this point. it was this: "_destiny reserves for us repose enough._" if each of you will take this individually to himself he will find in it stimulus enough for all kinds of hard work. the first of the eminently great men now to be mentioned in this connection was herman boerhaave, born in and died in . he enjoyed the reputation of being perhaps the most eminent physician who ever lived. the eldest son of a poor clergyman with a large family, he was originally intended for theology, and with this in view studied philosophy, history, logic, metaphysics, philology and mathematics, as well as theology. a mere accident, resulting from intense party spirit and doctrinal differences, prevented his devoting his life to theology, and he turned next to mathematics and then to chemistry and botany, subsequently studying anatomy and medicine. he graduated in and began at once to practice in leyden, with such success that he was early offered the position of ordinary surgeon to the king, which, however, he had the moral courage to decline. subsequently he taught medicine and botany, to which chairs was also added later that of chemistry. this fact of itself will show to you something of the condition of medical science of that day, when one man could teach chemistry, botany and medicine. his rarest talents, however, were developed in the direction of clinical instruction, and in this particular field he won such repute that hearers were attracted to leyden from all quarters of the world and in such numbers that no university lecture-room was large enough to contain them. his practice grew in extent and remunerativeness in pace with his reputation, and when he died he left an estate of two millions. so famous was he that it is said of him that a chinese official once sent to him a letter addressed simply "to the most famous physician in europe." that he had fixed convictions and practices may be better understood from the fact that so little difference did he make between his patients that he kept peter the great waiting over one night to see him, declining to regulate his visiting list by the means or position of his patients. boerhaave was universally regarded as a great student and a great physician, but it was probably his qualities as a man which led to the astonishing extent of his reputation. essentially modest, not disputatious nor belligerent, he had a remarkable influence over the young men who came near him, while he had a habit of speaking oracularly or in aphorisms, which are not always so profound as they sound and yet often make a man's dicta celebrated. save that he introduced the use of the thermometer and the ordinary lens in the examinations of his patients, his teachings do not form any really new system. in the classification of men he would be regarded as a great eclectic, in the purer sense of the term. probably his greatest service to medicine was in the permanent establishment of the clinical method of instruction, and perhaps his next greatest real claim to glory is the character of the instruction and the inspiration which he gave to two of his greatest scholars, viz.: haller and van swieten. he was not the founder of a school. he left no great nor memorable doctrines for which others should contend, but he left a name for studiousness, honest and logical thinking, which was a priceless heritage for the university with which he was connected. the next great scholar to whose life and works i would invite your attention for a moment, is morgagni, born in italy in , died in . he was a pupil of valsalva, whose assistant he became at the age of nineteen. brought up in this way, as it were in the domain of anatomy, it is not strange that he devoted his attention throughout his life especially to the anatomical products of disease. it matters little to us now that he was wont to regard these products as the causes of disease and thus neglected their remote causes. he it was who taught us to apply to pathological anatomy the same scrupulous attention to tissue alterations and changes which the ordinary anatomist would note in dissecting a new animal form. he was scarcely the founder of the science of pathological anatomy, for this credit belongs to benivieni, but he did very much to popularize the study and to show its importance. more than this, he wrote a work which for his day and generation was colossal. it bore the title "_de sedibus et causis morborum per anatomen indagatis._" it consisted of five books. the first appeared in venice in . this proved a perfect mine of information to which one may often turn even to-day, and read with wonder the observations published one hundred and fifty years ago. they stamp morgagni as a great scientist as well as anatomist. his industry will be indicated by the fact that even after he became blind he did not cease to work. perhaps the most wonderful figure in the whole history of modern medicine is that of albrecht von haller, of berne, born , died , and often known as the great. no more versatile genius than his has ever adorned our profession. a most precocious child, he developed remarkable abilities in the direction of poetry and music, as well as medicine, and the only wonder is that he lived to such a ripe old age, enjoying the fruits of his labors, having displayed throughout his entire life an industry and productiveness which were most remarkable. before he reached the age of ten he had written a chaldee grammar, a greek and hebrew vocabulary, and a large collection of latin verses and biographies. during the next few years he translated many of the latin authors, and wrote an original epic poem of some four thousand verses on the swiss confederacy. all of this work he had completed by the age of twenty-one. it is not strange that among those who knew of his precocity he was generally known and regarded as a "wonder child." it will thus be seen, too, that medicine was but one of the many subjects of his study. he studied a year in tübingen, where the riotous living of his fellow students repelled him; then he went to leyden, falling there under the influence of the illustrious boerhaave. how much he drew from this source no man may accurately say at present, but a more brilliant example he certainly could not have had. he finished his studies in leyden before he was twenty and then traveled through england and france, but was compelled to flee from paris to escape arrest for hiding cadavers in his room for purposes of dissection. this will prove an evidence of taste for study if not of taste in other directions. suddenly developing a passion for mathematics, he went to basle and worked so hard as to almost ruin his health. this necessitated a trip to the mountains and here his interest in botany was aroused and indirectly that in medicine continued. soon after he returned to berne to take up the practice of medicine. here he studied and worked so hard as to arouse a suspicion of his sanity, but he kept up his health by frequent trips to the alps in search of flowers. his fondness for botany and his taste for poetry seemed to grow with equal pace and he seems to have been among the first of modern students to appreciate the beauty and grandeur of swiss mountain scenery. when he was twenty-five years of age appeared the first edition of his poems, many editions appearing later. here in berne also he published so many essays on botany, anatomy and physiology that widespread attention was attracted to his eminent learning, and he was called to fill the chair of anatomy and botany in the new university of göttingen, where he spent seventeen years of extraordinary mental activity, publishing countless papers and at the same time continuing his poetic and his nomadic habits. he established in göttingen a great botanic garden, founded scientific societies, published five books on anatomy, all elaborately illustrated, printed a series of commentaries on boerhaave's lectures, and is said to have contributed altogether thirteen thousand articles relating to almost every branch of human knowledge. it is not strange that the fame of the university of göttingen depended largely upon haller's reputation. but haller developed a clear case of nostalgia, and after being fêted by the nobility, honored by almost every monarch in europe, and receiving every honor that universities and philosophic societies confer, he resigned from his chair in göttingen and returned to berne, to his _fatherland_. here, amid his old home surroundings, he worked for twenty years more at the same tremendous rate, discharging diverse duties of state and private citizenship, founding and promoting industries and asylums, and serving constantly upon commissions of all kinds. while thus engaged appeared that phenomenal work, his great treatise on physiology, so full of original observations that it has been stated that should discoveries which have been re-discovered since haller be collected they would fill several quarto volumes. the physiological institute of berne is to-day known as the _hallerianum_, as it should be, for it is distinctly the product of his genius. he died at a ripe age, after having performed an incredible amount of work, the greatest scholar of his own or perhaps of any century, revered and honored, faithful to the last and exhibiting in his last moments that "philosophic calmness of the cultivated intellect" of which cicero loved to write. it is related of him that on his deathbed he kept his fingers on his own wrist, watching the ebbing away of his own existence and waiting for the last pulsation from his radial artery. finally he exclaimed, "i no longer feel it," and then joined the great majority. perhaps haller's greatest contribution to physiological lore was his doctrine of irritability of tissues. it took the place of much that had caused previous discussion and is accepted to-day as explaining, as nearly as we can explain, numerous phenomena. in this same great wonder-century lived also john hunter, the greatest of england's medical students, the most famous surgeon of his day and the most indefatigable collector in natural history and natural science that ever lived. he was born in and died in . he was led to study medicine by the fame of his illustrious brother william, and began his studies by acting as prosector for him. he soon became a pupil of cheselden, perhaps the most famous english surgeon of his generation. hunter developed very early those extraordinary powers of observation and that originality in investigation which later made him so famous. early in his medical career he came for a time under the influence of percival pott. this was at a time when surgery had emerged from barbarism and when the french academy of surgery had erected it into the dignity of a science. he entered st. george's hospital in as a surgeon's pupil. later he became a partner with his brother in the latter's private school of anatomy, but john, being a poor lecturer, was distinguished by his services in the dissecting-room rather than in the amphitheater. the customs of his time and the jealousies of the various medical factions then existing in london led to numerous acrimonious disputes, in the literary part of which william hunter, who was much the more cultured student, took the lead, while john, who lacked in scholastic ability and had much less education, was relied on to supply the anatomical data. john was painfully aware of his deficiencies in literary culture and is said once to have replied to the disparaging remarks of an opponent: "he accuses me of not understanding the dead languages, but i could tell him that on the dead body which he never knew in any language living or dead." it was in this way that he was led into unseemly encounters with the munros, of edinburgh, and with his late teacher, pott. the same sort of dispute finally separated the two brothers, and they parted company after a very unseemly exhibition of jealousy and fraternal discord. after studying human anatomy for several years, john hunter became profoundly impressed with the need for much larger knowledge of comparative anatomy, but about this time ill health compelled a temporary change and so he went into the army as a staff surgeon. this was at the time when europe was engaged in the sanguinary seven years' war, and so it happened that hunter had ample opportunity for studies and observations in military surgery--at the siege of belleisle and later in the war in the peninsula. here he made many of those observations on gunshot wounds which he published at various periods later and which helped to make him famous. he resumed his work in london in , and here again he had to undergo a long trial of those qualities of passive fortitude and active perseverance under difficulties which were his prominent characteristics. his personal needs were small but his scientific requirements were large, and to these latter he devoted every guinea which he could earn in his small but slowly growing practice. his own manners were so brusque, and he was so lacking in the refinement of many of his colleagues and competitors, that it took rare mental qualities to force him to the front, to which he nevertheless rapidly advanced. bacon has said, "he that is only real had need of exceeding great parts of virtue, as the stone had need be rich that is set without foil," and this was never more true than in john hunter's case. his leisure hours were never unemployed. he obtained the bodies of all animals dying in the public collections in london and so began to form that enormous collection which became known later as the hunterian museum. as his means afforded it he built and added to his accommodations and carried on those vast researches into animal anatomy and physiology to which the balance of his life was devoted. although his practice gradually increased and he became in time the most famous surgeon and consultant in london, he used, nevertheless, to spend three or four hours every morning before breakfast in dissection of animals, and as much of the rest of the day as he could spare. pupils and students who wished to consult him had to come early in the morning, often as early as four o'clock, in order to find him disengaged. he had that rare ability to do a maximum of work with a minimum of sleep which has been so conspicuous in the case of virchow. before he died, hunter attained to a large competence, and his anatomical collection, consisting of some ten thousand preparations, made largely with his own hands, was purchased after his death by the government, for seventy-five thousand dollars, and presented to the college of surgeons where it forms the chief part of the so-called hunterian museum. hunter's principal claims to greatness obtain in this, that he not only brought the light of physiology to bear upon the practice of our art, but by his writings and teachings and especially by his example led men to follow along the paths he cleared for them. it is no small claim to glory to be known by such pupils as hunter had. by these, by his colossal industry in building up his museum, and by his writings, he will ever be known as the most prominent figure in the medical history of great britain. the fifth man in this quintette of geniuses which i am presenting to you to-day was francis xavier bichat, who was born in france in , and died in . although he was thirty-one years old at his death, his career was so phenomenal, almost meteoric, that it deserves to be held up as showing what one can do in the early period of his life, if he will but work. as one reads of his originality and talent one is led almost insensibly to compare them with those of some of the world's famous musicians who, also, have died in early manhood after giving to the world their immortal works, e. g., schubert, mozart and mendelssohn. bichat was the son of a physician and applied himself early to medical studies in nantes, lyons, montpellier and finally in paris, where he became the pupil and trusted friend of desault, then the greatest parisian surgeon. when desault died, in , this young man began lecturing for him, at the age of twenty-four. he displayed a wonderful, almost feverish scientific activity, more particularly in the direction of general and pathological anatomy. he was the originator of the phrase which he made famous: "take away some fevers and nervous troubles, and all else belongs in the domain of pathological anatomy." coming upon the stage shortly after morgagni left it, he was able by his genius, his logical acumen and his graces of speech and manner, to give an attractiveness and importance to this subject which it had hitherto lacked. it was his great service to more clearly differentiate closely related diseased conditions and to insist upon a study of post-mortem appearances in connection with previously observed clinical phenomena. he also established the tendency of similar tissues to similar anatomical lesions. in fact our view of what we call general tissue systems we in reality owe to him, since without use of the microscope he distinguished twenty-one kinds of tissue, which he studied under the head of general anatomy, while he held that descriptive anatomy had to do with their various combinations. to bichat was largely due the overthrow of purely speculative medicine because he placed facts far in advance of theories and ideas. books he said are or should be merely "memoranda of facts." that he made many such memoranda will appear from the fact that before his untimely death he had published nine volumes of essays and treatises, nearly all bearing on the general subject of anatomy, normal and morbid. he also had not only his limitations but his faults. he strangely denied the applicability of so-called physical laws to body processes, he minimized the importance of therapeutics, and he sought to place the vitalistic system upon a realistic basis. nevertheless he set an example not only for the young men of france, but of all times and climes, which should be often held up before them. and so i have thus placed before you five bright and shining illustrations of what brains and application can accomplish, selected from different lands in order to show that medicine has no country, and from a previous century in order that you may the better realize how meagre was their environment in those days as compared with that which you enjoy. perhaps you will say, "there were giants in those days." true, but the race has not entirely died out. while spencer and virchow live one may not call the race extinct, nor can the times which have produced such men as helmholtz, dubois-reymond, darwin, huxley, leidy or marsh, fail to still produce an occasional worthy successor. but it is time now to draw this rather rambling discourse to an end. the effort has been partly to attract your attention to some of the side lights by which the vista of your futures may be the more pleasantly illumined, and partly, by placing before you brief accounts of the careers of some of your illustrious predecessors, to show that eminence in medical science inheres in no particular nationality nor race, neither comes it of heredity nor by request. like salvation it is available to all who fulfill the prerequisites. it is a composite product of application, direction, fervor in study, logical powers of mind, honesty of purpose, capability of observation, alertness to improve opportunities, all combined with that somewhat rare gift of tact, which last constitutes the so-called personal equation by which many humanitarian problems are solved. _study nature for facts; study lives of great men for inspiration how to use them._ "were a star quenched on high for ages would its light, still traveling downward from the sky, shine on our mortal sight. so when a great man dies for years beyond our ken, the light he leaves behind him lies upon the paths of men." if then you regulate your mental habits by such a code other habits will of necessity fall into the proper line. the only other admonition i would give you in parting is summed up in these beautiful lines of our own bryant: "so live that when thy summons comes to join the innumerable caravan which moves to that mysterious realm where each shall take his chamber in the silent halls of death, thou go not like the quarry slave at night, scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed by an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave like one who wraps the drapery of his couch about him and lies down to pleasant dreams." that the sentiment is not new, however, will appear in this other and ancient version which sir william jones has thus rendered from the persian: "on parent knees, a naked newborn child, weeping thou satst while all around thee smiled, so live that, sinking to thy last long sleep, calm mayst thou smile while all around thee weep." x the career of the army surgeon[ ] [ ] commencement address at the army medical school, washington, d. c., may , .--from "_the military surgeon_," july, . the experience of listening to a so-called commencement address under these peculiar circumstances is doubtless as novel to you as is to me its preparation. so different is this occasion from that usually spoken of as commencement day, that it taxed my judgment as much as it did my ability to--as it were--"meet the indication," and to try to say the appropriate thing. it behooves me to remember that this is in effect not an address to a class of students just entering a learned profession, but an effort on the part of one on the borderland of experiences gathered from a civil surgeon's work, yet enjoying a quasi military title, with strong ties and leanings--to some extent inherited--toward the course of the army surgeon and the fascinations of the soldier's life. self-evident it is that you need no admonition which i could give, for the very fact of your presence here indicates that your selection by your superior officers stamps their approval of your ability as well as your character. time has wrought vast changes in the personnel of the army medical corps, as in every other branch of the service. from the days of xenophon, with his selection of the best material afforded, to the dark middle ages with practically no provision, then to the later centuries with their menial barbers and barber surgeons, and then the very gradually improved conditions which bettered the service, down to the present time, when the best is none too good, there has been that same evolution which has characterized all the rest of mankind's surroundings and man's realization of his public and private duties. from the days when the first duty of the so-called army surgeon was to minister to his commanding general, and when the private soldier received but the scantiest if any attention, we have arrived at that time when the good health of the entire army is the aim and pride of the medical corps, and when public opinion demands for every enlisted man a degree of watchful care greater than many parents bestow upon their own families. the line officer of to-day can no longer afford to disregard the advice of his medical officers, and camp sanitation is now of even greater importance than operative technique, because preventable sickness and the incapacity caused by disease are recognized as far more to be dreaded than the bullets of the enemy. public estimate of our duties to the sick and wounded has varied largely during different epochs. thus homer makes nestor say: "a surgeon skilled our wounds to heal, is more than armies to the public weal." homer also lauded the services of the two sons of aesculapius, whom he deified as the grandest of heroes and the wisest of surgeons, and thus wrote of them at the siege of troy, twelve hundred years before the birth of christ: "of two great surgeons, podalirius stands this hour surrounded by the trojan bands, and great machaon, wounded, in his tent now wants the succor which so oft he lent." again he thus describes an operation: "patroclus cut the forky steel away; while in his hand a bitter root he pressed, the wound he washed and styptic juice infused; the closing flesh that instant ceased to glow, the wound to torture, and the blood to flow." contrast the tender mercies thus described with an incident occurring during one of the exciting experiences of ambroise paré, who one day, during a battle, saw three desperately wounded soldiers placed with their backs against a wall. an old campaigner inquired, "can those fellows get well?" "no," answered ambroise. thereupon the old campaigner went up to them and cut all their throats, "sweetly and without wrath." note, if you will, the expression, "sweetly and without wrath," since it implies a primitive form of humanity in providing euthanasia for the hopelessly wounded. while it has been from time immemorial the custom to attach surgeons to various armies, some idea of prevailing notions of antiquity may be gained from the statement that xenophon had but eight field surgeons with his , troops. in his army the sick and wounded were cared for in adjoining villages, or, when on the march, were carried in the rear of the troops, being cared for by women from "the baggage." whether these women were the "vivandieres" of those days i do not quite make out, nevertheless they must have been much the same thing. in the days of rome's greatest glory each cohort of men had four surgeons, while each legion of ten cohorts had one legionary physician. in the navy there was also one physician to each trireme; nevertheless the wounded on land or sea received scant attention, although it is interesting to read that each soldier carried with him the most necessary bandages ready for use, an emergency packet supposed to be quite modern. a few hundred years later, in the eastern empire, the emperor maurice ordered that throughout every division of from two hundred to four hundred cavalry eight or ten of the strongest men be selected, in order to bring to the rear those who were severely wounded, to supply them with water, and to collect the weapons lying upon the field. these mounted cavalrymen received a small reward for each person rescued. three hundred years later this arrangement was continued in operation by leo vi. wherever it was possible the sick and wounded soldiers were cared for by monks or by sisters, in the numerous hospices and institutions which abounded throughout the east, and although the care was often of the worst the efforts made were in the right direction. holy oil, laying on of hands, supplication, and the use of holy relics constituted a large part of the treatment in vogue; nevertheless these remedies were not quite so injurious as some of the other and more disgusting ones whose use prevailed in those days. without doubt the two army surgeons who during the last years achieved more fame than any of their colleagues were ambroise paré, and baron larrey. such commanding figures were they, not only in their professional work, but in the general influence which they wielded alike upon sovereign and common soldier, that they will ever be regarded as among the most memorable characters of common history. paré died in , larrey in . each was passed along from one ruler or commander to his successor, and each was regarded as about the most priceless legacy which could be thus transmitted. paré's name has always been most conspicuously mentioned in connection with the history of the introduction of the ligature as a substitute for the cautery iron or boiling oil, previously in use for the checking of hemorrhage, and for his teaching concerning the nature of gun-shot wounds, which had been previously and universally considered as necessarily poisoned wounds; but his new practice and his new views in these respects were but a small part of the general services which he rendered. it is not worth while to try to even epitomize here to-day the history of the ligature; though while its introduction has been widely credited to paré, you must not forget that it was in use many centuries before his time, and was frequently mentioned by the early writers. what paré really did was, first, to abolish a barbarous and unscientific method of dealing with hemorrhage, and then to re-introduce or promote the employment of the ligature as a far preferable substitute, more humane, more clean, and more desirable. and so rather than do scant justice by incomplete reference to paré's actual contributions to knowledge i prefer rather to speak of the other side of this great man's character, and to remind you of some of the many ways by which he secured such marvellous influence over those around him, and made his remarkable personality of the greatest use. as he passed through one campaign after another his reputation became more and more firmly established, and inspired surgeons the world over with the desire to visit him. in almost his every act his sagacity was conspicuously displayed, while, whenever they were called for, his personal courage and absolute lack of fear were equally apparent. deprived of the benefits of early and liberal training he probably, on that very account, developed his power of thought, his memory and his analytical powers all the more keenly, inasmuch as these were made to take the place of what he might have learned from books. the following anecdote will serve to illustrate, for instance, the general esteem in which he was held. in october, , the army of charles v. was besieging the city of metz, and charles himself came to take command. in the beleaguered city were gathered the nobility and the bluest blood of france, while at the head of the defending forces was the duke of guise. the imprisoned soldiers and civilians suffered alike from the onslaughts of the enemy, the rigors of a frightful winter, the lack of food, and the presence of disease. the duke had established two hospitals for the soldiers, which he put in charge of the barber surgeons of the city, and furnished them with money with which to procure supplies, but owing to the wretched incompetence of these same barber surgeons nearly all the wounded perished, and the horrible suspicion arose that the soldiers were being poisoned. the duke sent word to the king of france that the place could hold out for ten months, but that they needed more medicines. the king then sent for paré, gave him money, ordered him to take all the medicines and other supplies he deemed necessary, and further aided him by bribing an italian captain to permit the celebrated surgeon, in some way, to enter the besieged city. braving all dangers, and being finally successful, paré entered metz two months later. he had at this time been with the armies for at least sixteen years, and was known by sight to officers and soldiers alike. on the day after his arrival the duke of guise dramatically presented him, on the ramparts, to all his officers, who embraced him, and hailed him with loud acclaim, while by the soldiers he was received with shouts of triumph. "we shall not die," they exclaimed, "even though wounded, for paré is among us." the effect of this great surgeon's appearance was to give new vigor to the defenders, and to it was due the fact that the city was saved. in his time paré met with success such as to-day would be pronounced most extraordinary. he inspired the wounded with utmost confidence, and displayed, always and everywhere, remarkable firmness. not the least notable feature in his personal history is it that he should have so long retained favor at court with such outspoken independence of character. equally reputable among army surgeons of the past, and one of the most commanding figures in history, medical or other, was baron larrey. for more than fifty years he was an army surgeon, and for a great part of that period he stood really closer to napoleon than almost any of the men whom the latter attached to his person by one or another of those traits that made him such a remarkable figure. that one of the greatest murderers and one of the greatest life-savers of all time should have been so closely drawn to each other, constitutes one of the most noteworthy incidents of history. alike in many respects, so unlike in so many others, it is one of the most creditable features of napoleon's career that he should have accorded to larrey that recognition which he early gave and never withdrew. never was such tribute more signally deserved nor worthily bestowed. though he passed through twenty-six campaigns, "from syria to portugal, and from moscow to madrid," and though his wonderful courage never failed him under the most trying surroundings of carnage and conflict, it may still be questioned whether it did not take a higher degree or order of courage to face napoleon in his tent, or tell him plain truths in the tuilleries. the history of campaigning affords innumerable incidents illustrating heroism under fire, or equally trying circumstances, and it is difficult and perhaps unjust to single out a few for individual mention. bravery is confined to no epoch and to no race; it is simply a god-given trait, not by any means possessed by all men. take, for instance, one incident in the career of larrey. during the landing of the english on the shores of aboukir bay, when general silly had his knee crushed by a bullet, larrey appreciated that immediate amputation was imperative, and gaining consent performed it, in three minutes, under the enemy's fire. just as he was finished the english cavalry charged upon them; in his own words, "i had scarcely time," he said, "to take the wounded officer on my shoulders and carry him rapidly toward our army which was in full retreat. i spied a series of ditches across which i passed, while the enemy had to go around by a more circuitous route. thus i had the happiness to reach the rear guard of our army before this corps of dragoons reached us. i arrived at alexandria with this honorable, wounded officer, where i completed his cure." perhaps under no circumstance did larrey's courage and zeal show to better advantage than in the awful retreat from moscow. for example, after the terrible battle of borodino, larrey made two hundred amputations, practically with his own hands, where there were neither couches nor coverings of any kind, when the cold was so intense that the instruments often fell from the benumbed fingers of the surgeons, and when food consisted of horse flesh, cabbage stalks and a few potatoes. and all this while the savage cossacks were hovering around equally ready to kill both surgeons and patients. soon after came the passage of the beresina, with its attendant horrors. general zayonchek, over sixty years of age, had his knee crushed, and was in need of immediate amputation, which larrey performed under the enemy's fire, amid the falling snow, with no shelter except a cloak, held by two officers over the patient while the operation was being performed. the general recovered, and died fourteen years later as viceroy of poland. it was after this passage of the beresina by the imperial guard that it was discovered that all the requisites for the sick and wounded had been left behind and on the other side. larrey at once recrossed the river, and found himself amidst a furious, struggling crowd, in danger of being crushed to death, when suddenly the soldiers recognized him. immediately they took him up in their arms, crossed the river with him, crying, "let us save him who saved us," and forgot their own safety in their regard for him whose merciful kindness they had so often experienced. another incident in larrey's career: ever faithful to napoleon, his adored master, through victory or reverse, larrey stood one night with a small group of medical men gazing over the field of waterloo, and upon the wounded and dying who lay groaning around him. suddenly they were charged by a squadron of prussian lancers, at whom larrey fired his pistols and galloped away, but was overtaken by the prussians, who shot his horse, sabred him, and left him for dead. after a while he recovered his senses, and tried to make his way across lots to france, but was again captured by another detachment of cavalry, who robbed him of everything, and then took him to headquarters, where it was ordered that he be shot. think of such a fate for one who had saved so many lives! but the order would have been carried out promptly had not one of the prussian surgeons recognized larrey, having attended his lectures several years previously. accordingly he was brought before bülow, and finally before marshall blücher, whose son had been wounded and captured by the french in the austrian campaign, and whose life had been saved by larrey's exertions. you may imagine that it did not take long to reverse that order for execution. praise from napoleon was most rare, but of larrey he made this remark in his will, along with a bequest of , francs, "he is the most virtuous man i have ever known." let us mention a few other instances. for example, surgeon thomson, who during the crimean war, after the battle of the alma, volunteered, with his servant, john mcgrath, to remain behind on the open, unsheltered field, with five hundred russians so wounded as to be disabled or even at the point of death. for three days and nights these two englishmen remained practically alone upon that field, covered only with dead and dying, among foreign foes, none of them able to help themselves, or even to speak in a language that could be understood. at the battle of inkerman assistant surgeon wolesley had established his field hospital in that awful place of slaughter, the sandbag battery. when its defenders were reduced to men, and were forced to leave it, most of them retreated in one direction to find, only thirty paces away, a russian battalion blocking their path. there was not one competent officer left, so this surgeon took command. seizing a bayonet because he had no sword, he spoke hurriedly to the men, and explained that their next fight was not merely for victory, but for their own lives; then he led them in a charge that tore so fiercely through the russian detachment that but half of them reached the other side alive. during the south african campaign the papers recorded (but how few read of it?) the fate of surgeon landon, who was shot through the spine while ministering to the wounded on majuba hill. paralyzed below the waist, he had himself propped up, and continued his work as best he could until his strength failed, when he said, "i am dying; do what you can for the wounded." it may be of interest to devote here a few minutes to the consideration of conditions obtaining at the time of our revolutionary war. in the barber surgeon still had a place in the armies of the world and was even then regarded as scarcely more than a menial. never was he accorded the respect or the honors of a gentleman, nor was he allowed to carry a sword. on the other hand, he was subjected to corporal punishment, and could be caned by his colonel, or almost anyone else, whenever such an act was provoked. it may be said that the english troops were somewhat better equipped than were the hired hessians, while the french, who came to our aid, brought with them some far better men, who were in many respects a revelation during our revolution and an inspiration to our own so-called surgeons. but our colonial and general governments dealt very stingily with our army medical department, and their professional equipments were of the most meagre; in fact, the history of surgery of those days, either in the army or in civil life, is practically the history of a few prominent individuals, most of whom had spent the time and money required for study abroad, and who had come home bringing back with them the best of their day, such as it was. for instance, there were the warren brothers, in boston, of whom the elder, joseph, started paul revere on his famous ride. he was elected president of the provincial congress, and just before the battle of bunker hill was made major general of the continental forces, a position which he preferred to that of physician general, which he had been offered. during the battle he fought with a musket, as though a private, and was shot down just as the conflict ended. the younger brother, john, lived to achieve fame and reputation, and transmitted them to his posterity. during the war some colonial regiments even came into camp without any surgeon, or the slightest provision for disease or injury. in congress ordered that there should be one surgeon and five assistants to each , enlisted men, the former being paid $ . per day, the latter $ a day. imagine the attention that could be bestowed upon , soldiers by six men whose services were thus compensated. camp hygiene, hospital corps, and ambulance service were undreamed of; nevertheless john warren, then only twenty-three years of age, accomplished a great deal in building up a medical corps, while as much more was done by benjamin church, of boston, who was styled director general and chief physician, and who was paid $ a day. unfortunately church was detected in traitorous correspondence with the enemy, was court-martialed, imprisoned for a year, then allowed to leave the country, and was probably lost at sea. he was succeeded by john morgan, of philadelphia, who had to fight the politicians as well as the foreign enemy and, failing to satisfy them, was dismissed from the service, though acquitted from all blame. thus you see that even in those days the politicians made it hard to secure adequate and proper care for our sick and wounded soldiers. everywhere at that time were unrest, excitement, and suspicion, and their demoralizing effects showed in every department of military as of civil government. after morgan came shippen, who held office from to , under whose guidance affairs in the medical department improved very much. smallpox had been perhaps the greatest scourge of the soldiers, as well as of the people in general, but this was kept in subjection by the practice of inoculation, which had been generally accepted in this country by nearly all men from washington down. a word or two must also be said about that remarkable man, benjamin rush, with his many-sided, versatile, erratic, obstinate and querulous character, who nevertheless constituted in his day the most prominent figure in the profession; who served two years in congress; who signed the declaration of independence; and who, in the same year, got his first army medical experience. it was perhaps not strange that, with his peculiar temperament, he failed to come under the influence of washington's peculiar personal magnetism, and that their personal relations were not at all to rush's credit, since he endeavored in many ways to belittle his commander-in-chief, and suffered therefor a rather ignominious exposure. the temptation is always to place most stress upon accounts of heroism which happens to be most publicly performed. while this is not unnatural it is often an injustice, since an act of courage may be performed in the lime-light of publicity, with a regard for notoriety, that would be lost were it done in private. it perhaps is not kind to think that anyone would ever be more courageous in public than in private, and yet it is to be feared that human nature is not always free from temptation of this kind. but the real silent heroes of military or civil medical life are those who engage in duties which nevertheless have even more of danger about them than spectacular performances upon the battle field. take for instance, the work done by major reed and dr. carroll, who devoted themselves for months to the study of yellow fever. many a man will stand upon the field of battle permitting himself to be fired upon, but how many will deliberately submit to being bitten by insects believed to be carriers of the germs of yellow fever. dr. carroll had this quiet kind of bravery, and allowed himself to be bitten by a mosquito that twelve days previously had filled himself with the blood of a yellow fever patient, and in consequence suffered from a severe attack, barely escaping with his life. dr. lazear permitted the same experiment upon himself, but was not at that time infected; but some days later while in the yellow fever ward he was bitten by a mosquito, made careful note of the fact, acquired the disease in its most hideous form, and died a martyr to science, as true a hero as ever died upon fortress or man-of-war. others, too, willingly exposed themselves, but there was at that time no other fatality to record. but realizing the value of the service rendered, the indisputable proof of the nature of the disease, and the method by which it is carried, the value of the demonstration becomes inestimable, since a true prophylaxis was demonstrated, and a means furnished of ridding the community of this fearful pestilence. moreover, it was shown how unnecessary it is to destroy valuable property, it being only necessary to kill the mosquitoes, and do away with their breeding places. major reed died a few years after he had led in this fight against the dread disease, but no monument, or other testimonial which can be erected to the memory of reed, carroll and lazear can adequately express the value of the service which they have rendered to the world. "peace hath her victories no less than war." this epigram is as true of the conflicts in which the medical profession engage as of any other. this same sentiment has been put in other words. it is said, "that peace hath higher tests of manhood than battle ever knew." for instance, in new york there is a simple tablet commemorating, in loving remembrance, the death of eighteen young physicians who, one after another, attended a ship load of emigrants sick of typhus fever on quarantine island. they fought their good fight and were buried without martial music, adding eighteen names to the innumerable list of victims who have fought the silent battle of dealing with disease, public gainers only in this, that someone has been thoughtful enough to record their names in this semi-public fashion. taken again the case of dr. franz muller, of vienna, who contracted the bubonic plague while working in the laboratory with its germs. just so soon as he realized that he himself was infected he locked himself in an isolated room, and pasted upon the window pane a sheet of paper containing this message, "i am suffering from plague. do not send a doctor to me, as in any event my end will come in four or five days." he refused to admit those who were anxious to do for him, wrote a letter to his parents which he placed against the window, so that it could be copied from the outside, then burned the original, fearing that if sent through the mail it might carry the elusive germ. was not this equal to any instance of valor under the excitement or the stress of battle and cannonade? could anyone more worthily win a victorian cross, or any other emblem of courage and heroism? many of you have been in, or will go to havana. it will be worth your while to make a pilgrimage to the cemetery there, where were buried sixteen young medical students who lost their lives under peculiar circumstances, which afford as well an illustration of spanish tyranny and injustice. in one of the professors in the medical school died, and was followed to his grave by the students whom he had taught, and who loved him. unfortunately they committed an indiscretion by scribbling with a pencil in a public place some criticism on the government; in consequence they were reported, arrested and court-martialed. the written paragraphs were evidence sufficient, and the governor general ordered the ranks of students to be decimated. there were students all told, and in accordance with this sentence sixteen of them were next day shot without any further ceremony. of these the youngest was not quite sixteen years old, and his father offered his entire fortune for his life, but without avail. later the citizens of havana erected a monument of white marble, at no small cost, to commemorate this sacrifice. there comes over me, as i prepare these words to read to you, a feeling of their inadequacy, and of lack of personal justice to many of my auditors. brought up in civil life, with but a smattering of military training, i am rehearsing incidents of which you may read as easily as i, while at the same time i do not forget that from the lives of many of my auditors there might be drawn just as many illustrations of courage, fortitude, endurance and personal valor as any that the surgeon general's library records. unfortunately i am not familiar with them. they are, happily in one respect, too numerous to mention, and again are not yet public property, because modesty is ever the accompaniment of these other traits which we all admire so much. hence, gentlemen, if i seem to you to disregard or forget many an incident in your lives or the careers of your friends, ascribe it to my ignorance rather than to my intent, and to the fact that i have never seen a battle, and that my fights with disease have not been fought in camps, but within the walls of the quiet sick room or hospital ward. nevertheless i am never happier than when i can try to compel a wider public recognition of what you are constantly doing and of your valorous deeds. next to those general improvements in the service which have come about through natural causes, and as results of a better appreciation of its needs, and of a generally improved state of the profession, nothing has come from outside during the past fifty years which has been so helpful and advantageous as the support afforded by the red cross, and the introduction of skilled nurses; in fact the greatest help which the medical service of the army and navy can enjoy is that which comes from this volunteer and outside source. by the way, i wonder how many of you recall, or are familiar with, the beginnings of the red cross movement? so important has it become that its history should be well known to all. in june, , was fought the bloody battle of solferino, at the conclusion of which some , french, sardinian and austrian soldiers lay dead or dying on the field. the medical corps was, of course, absolutely inadequate to the work thrown upon them, and as usual thousands of wounded men had to care for themselves as best they could. a swiss traveler, henri dunant, viewing the scenes, and being profoundly impressed by them, not only assisted in the work of relief, but wrote a book entitled, "a souvenir of solferino," in which he urged more humane, widespread and speedy aid to the wounded. m. moynier, president of the society of public utility, of geneva, a man of independent means; dr. appia, a wise physician, and m. ador, an eminent lawyer of geneva, also became interested in the movement. the attention of the general of the swiss army was called to it and his co-operation enlisted. in this way came about, in , the formation of a permanent society for the relief of wounded soldiers. at a meeting held in october in the same year men from many countries joined in discussing the subject, and an international conference was held, which resulted in calling an international convention, to be held at geneva in the autumn of . such was the beginning of the red cross movement, which has now extended all over the world, and has afforded an opportunity for all races, creeds and nationalities to care for those who are made victims of war or pestilence, or who suffer from any other great disaster with which private charity is unable to cope. it marks a step in the evolution of mankind, and has now achieved such universal recognition that national governments and individual potentates are glad to join hands in the great work. a more concrete application of the same idea has been the comparatively recent formation of ambulance corps and later of nursing bureaus, within our own service, and the employment of trained nurses. this has not been in all respects an easy matter to bring about, nevertheless it has redounded to the credit and to the welfare of all concerned. never at any time were the sick and injured, either in private or in military practice, so well cared for as now, and america should lead the world to-day, as ever, in the adequacy of its provisions and the perfection of its methods. in private this is notably the case in ordinary hospital work, as seen by all travelers, upon the continent and in great britain, who take pains to make comparisons with the way in which things are done there and in our own country. although florence nightingale immortalized herself by showing what woman could do on the battle field and in military camps, it has remained for americans to improve upon the lessons which she taught, while at the same time revering her for her wonderful devotion to her self-imposed duty and her enthusiasm. in its performance the lessons of the crimean and the civil war, for instance, have left their impressions upon history in such a way as may never be erased, and certainly no one was ever more entitled to the designation of "angel of the sick room" than was miss nightingale. wars of conquest bring about curious results and in unexpected ways. while greed, lust and fanaticism have been the three great impelling and underlying motives for most of the wars which man thrusts upon his fellow-men, one far nobler motive has been the occasional and the only just cause of strife, namely, the desire for liberty; still this is always secondary and the product of some other man's or people's greed. as only by the cataclysms of the natural world has it been prepared for man's habitation, so by some wars have come benefits unforeseen, with an amelioration of the condition of mankind in general, which could not have been secured by any less drastic measures. it is, however, a sad commentary on man's intelligence that most honor is paid to those who have taken the most lives rather than to those who have saved them. no school boy in the remotest districts but is brought up with some trifling knowledge of the world's heroes, so-called, though they were in reality the world's wholesale murderers. yet you may find many persons, credited with higher education, who are still densely ignorant of the benefits conferred by those two greatest discoveries in the world's history (both of anglo-saxon origin), _anaesthesia_ and _antisepsis_, who will talk entertainingly and at length of darius, caesar, hannibal and the more modern military lights, yet who never heard of morton nor of lister. yet if to-day you inquire what is doing in the various parliaments of the world you learn that the talk is ever of more numerous and more powerful engines of destruction, and that those in power have no time to devote to improvements in the army or navy medical service, and that it is even now impossible to secure anything like adequate attention to our needs in this direction. means of taking human life must be constantly at hand; means of saving it are of small importance until the emergency has arisen; and then the blame for inadequate provision of both means and men falls not where it belongs, on the politicians who would not look ahead, but upon the administration of the medical department, who work to the point of desperation and despair in times of peace, who keep perpetual vigil, with scant recognition of the sacredness of their purpose, and scant aid in its accomplishment. are the lessons of the south african, the spanish-american and the russo-japanese wars to be forgotten almost before they have been recited? are we prepared to-day to give adequate care and attention to our soldiers and sailors were war in sight? you well know that we are not; every military or naval surgeon knows we are not; the medical profession generally knows it; and our legislators have been told it until we are tired of repeating it. yet, what is the result? the same indifference on their part, the same ignorance of what it all means; and on the part of the public the same blindness and fatuous confidence that "everything is all right." for instance, if an adequate medical service is to be built up for war there should be one officer to every of enlisted men. estimating that an army of at least , men would be required were we engaged with a first-class power--and what other would dare to engage with us?--this means , army surgeons. of these at least one-fourth should be regular and experienced medical officers. in other words, there should be for such an army at least , medical officers in the regular service, and also at least , volunteer surgeons, professionally and physically equipped for such work. should anyone object that this exceeds all the provisions of time past, the reply is ready and all sufficient, namely, that in time past all such provisions have been utterly inadequate; that the conditions of modern warfare have undergone an entire change, that a sick, wounded or disabled man is an encumbrance, and that it behooves us to prevent sickness, and to cure the disabled man as quickly as possible. furthermore, advances in medicine and surgery have been so great that far more is now expected of the medical corps than ever before, and it is a duty which we owe to those who incur the dangers of fighting for us that we should care for them. we are, therefore, under the very highest moral obligation to give them our best, and enough of it. it must be a small inducement that we offer to men to fight our battles if we permit them to feel that they are not objects of our solicitude when sick or wounded. there is another feature which we cannot disregard. so long as army regulations require that a man educated in advanced science spend much of his valuable time in acting as bookkeeper or clerk, there will be less inducement to enter the service, and it will consequently not attract men of highest proficiency. that which is required of you is complicated and exacting. you must be good bookkeepers, good sanitarians, and equally good surgeons, physicians and even obstetricians. above all, you are expected to be able to keep all the men under your supervision ready for the "firing line" at a moment's notice. you have received the highest compliment which the state can pay when you have been adjudged versatile and competent enough to fill all these rôles and do all these things. moreover, as you gain promotion other things will be expected of you, even, i hope, the filling of the chairs in this modern military medical school. it is in a way the west point of the medical corps, and it would seem as though there should not be the slightest difficulty in replenishing vacancies in its faculty by detail from your ranks. the collections and the literary labors of your corps constitute to-day treasures exceeded in value by but few if any in this, the nation's capital. the library, the museum and the archives of the medical department have been models from which all the nations of the earth have copied. in this connection there occurs to me, by way of contrast, the story of a french surgeon's experiences when he undertook to teach anatomy in a conquered and reconstructed country. after the french occupation of egypt, mehemet ali took it into his head to introduce european civilization into africa, and imported all sorts of artists, scientists and medical men, among them a practitioner of marseilles, a true bohemian in the modern acceptance of the expression, who presented himself in most seedy apparel, saying, "i am a doctor of medicine, with plenty of courage, but no clothes; i want to try my fortune." this man was dr. clot, who rapidly became a favorite of the viceroy. he soon learned arabic so as to speak it fluently, and in six months not only received an army commission, and became a bey, but took the chair of anatomy in the newly organized school of medicine. conditions were all against him. mussulman fanaticism and the prohibitions of the koran opposed all anatomical pursuits, and so soon as he proposed a dissection there was a general explosion. by mohammedan ceremonial one who even touches a dead body is thereby rendered "unclean" for seven days. the ulemas, the muftis, and all of the other fanatics, demanded of the viceroy the closure of the school, and declared dissection a sacrilegious profanation. mehemet refused this, and ordered clot bey to commence his demonstrations. then one day happened the following incident: the professor, scalpel in hand, standing alongside the cadaver, began to open the thorax, when one of the students, either from sheer fanaticism, or more bold than the others, jumped upon him and stabbed him with a poignard. the blade slid over the ribs, and clot bey, perceiving that he was not seriously hurt, applied a piece of plaster to the wound, observing as he did so, "we were speaking of the disposition of the sternum and the ribs, and i now can illustrate to you why a blow directed from above has so little chance of penetrating the cavity of the thorax." he continued his lectures, and turned out some skilful practitioners. he became an officer of almost every order in the world, and acquired more than sixty decorations, although he never wore but one, the red rosette of his own country. (_med. times and gazette_, september , .) while just such an experience may never be duplicated again, the philippines, or some other country yet to fall under our rule, may afford an opportunity for a similar display of _sang froid_. while no one may see far into the future, the maxim, "in time of peace prepare for war," is as true of the medical department as of any. were it a state secret no one would breathe it here, but it is lamentably true and publicly known that even now we are not prepared as we should be. the awful lessons of the spanish war have been forgotten. west point officers have until comparatively recently received no instruction in camp sanitation. some of us worked hard a while ago to have at least elementary instruction in it introduced into their curriculum. as an illustration i believe that to-day they are taught more about horse's feet and how to keep them in good condition, than about those of their men. line officers, especially volunteer, have never been too ready to locate their camps where water and drainage were the best, and the awful mortality of the spanish war was mainly due to preventable disease, while this was due to stupid and inexcusable disregard, on the part of officers of the line (mainly volunteer) of the advice of their medical officers. but, after all, gentlemen, the discouragements you will meet with will be far fewer than those with which your predecessors had to contend, while the pleasant side of your lives will be far pleasanter than was theirs. in fact, i think your lives have in many respects fallen in pleasanter places than have ours. discipline and order protect you to a large extent from quackery and idiocy. the fads of the day disappear before the appearance of the flag and the sound of the drum. so-called christian science finds no place in your curriculum, and it will be long, i trust, before the army chaplain tinctures the military hospital with sectarian therapeutics or an emanuel church cult. if by entering the army one may escape disgusting influences of this character, then it may become such a refuge that it shall thereby be made both inviting and invincible. it is pleasing to those of us who co-operated in the movement, to have the assurances of the surgeon general that the establishment of the medical reserve corps has been of actual benefit to the regular army medical department. while the military rank to which its members found themselves suddenly elevated was not so lofty as to cause any attacks of vertigo, none having been up to the present day reported, it at least gives us satisfaction to realize that help may thus be afforded from private life, and that a closer rapport has been effected. and now it is well nigh as difficult a task to appropriately conclude these remarks as to begin them. men come and go; a few leave imprints of their footsteps; the vast majority make no impression that lingers. "some when they die, die all; their mouldering clay is but an emblem of their memories; the space quite closes up through which they passed." fain would i believe that many of you would make enduring records. yet each can do his best, and i doubt not each will do it. you have so much to encourage you, so comparatively little to hamper or hold back. glorious is your work, glorious may be your fulfillment of it. we have lived in a goodly time; you will enjoy one still more goodly. with scientific progress, whose like the world has never known, and with an altruism which makes the world constantly better, you will be able to do things never done by your predecessors. "'tis coming up the steeps of time, and this old world is growing brighter! we may not see its dawn sublime, yet high hopes make the heart throb lighter! our dust may slumber underground when it awakens the world in wonder; but we have felt it gathering 'round! we have heard its voice of distant thunder. 'tis coming! yes, 'tis coming! "'tis coming now, that glorious time foretold by seers and sung in story, for which, when thinking was a crime, souls leaped to heaven from scaffolds gory! they passed. but lo! the work they wrought! now the crowned hopes of centuries blossom, the lightning of their living thought is flashing through us, brain and bosom; 'tis coming! yes, 'tis coming." xi the evolution of the surgeon from the barber if one attempt to scan the field of the history of medicine, to take note of all the fallacies and superstitions which have befogged men's minds, and brought about what _now_ seem to be the most absurd and revolting views and practices of times gone by, and if one search deliberately for that which is of curious nature, or calculated to serve as a riddle difficult of solution, he will scarcely in the tomes which he may consult find anything stranger than the close connection, nay, even the identity maintained for centuries, between the trade of the barber and the craft of the surgeon. even after having studied history and the various laws passed at different times, he will still miss the predominant yet concealed reason for this state of affairs. this will be found to be, in the words of paget, the "maintenance of vested rights as if they were better than the promotion of knowledge." he will wonder also why women were licensed to practise surgery in the fourteenth century and prevented in the nineteenth, or why specialties were legally recognized in the sixteenth century only to lose their dignity and identity a little later. in thus attempting to consider the relations which have existed in time past between barbers and surgeons i must ask you to remember that there was a time when bleeding was deemed necessary for the cure of almost all ailments, and that after the church had condemned the shedding of blood by any of her officials it was most natural to turn for assistance to the barbers, who were supposed to be dexterous with sharp instruments, with basins and with towels. thus it happened that when the barbers found themselves permitted to perform this sole act they naturally ventured further and practised many parts of minor surgery independently of the ecclesiastics. moreover there persist to-day in europe many relics of the old customs, and the barber surgeon is still a common figure in germany, and particularly in russia, where the really educated surgeons are still too few for a vast and widespread population. it must be remembered also that the church gradually imbued men's minds with a horror of a dead body, and of the profanation which followed having anything to do with it, and surrounded the study of anatomy with every possible obstacle and obloquy; even to such an extent that to be known as having dissected a human body was to be exposed to indignity, assault and even death. it was, therefore only intense yearning for knowledge, on the part of earnest men, which then permitted anatomical instruction to be given or encouraged. during the middle ages the greatest medical school in the world was situated at salernum (or salerno), but a short distance from naples. this is not the place in which to discuss its history, although it became famous above almost every other institution of learning of any kind, and though, by one of the freaks of history, even the site of the buildings is now lost and no one seems to know just where they stood. in his time, namely, in , the emperor frederick ii was the great patron of this college; his decrees concerning the regulation of the study and practice of medicine deserve attention to-day. a part of one of his enactments reads as follows: "since it is possible for a man to understand medical science only if he has previously learned something of logic, we ordain that no one shall be permitted to study medicine until he has given his attention to logic for three years. after these three years he may if he wishes proceed to the study of medicine." and again: "no surgeon shall be allowed to practise until he has submitted certificates in writing, of the teachers of the faculty of medicine, that he has spent at least one year in that part of medical science which gives skill in the practice of surgery, that in the college he has diligently and especially studied the anatomy of the human body, and is also thoroughly experienced in the way in which operations are successfully performed and healing afterwards brought about." when first we hear of medical men in great britain they were commonly spoken of as _leeches_, as among the danes and saxons; later the clergy introduced books from rome, and almost every monastery had some brother possessed of more or less knowledge of the medicine of the day. the college of salernum later gave great impetus to the study of medicine, even before the days of william the conqueror, which was strengthened by the influence emanating from naples, and particularly from montpellier. for centuries the catholic clergy were almost the only persons with sufficient education to study and practise physic; which profession became in time so lucrative that many of the monks abandoned their monasteries, neglecting their religious duties, and applied themselves to the study of medicine. to such an extent was this true that in the council of tours forbade monks staying out of the monastery for more than two months at a time, or teaching or practising physic. in taking this action the council only repeated what had been ordained by decree of henry iii in , and by the second council of lateran in . no restraint was at first placed upon the secular clergy, and many of the bishops and other church dignitaries gained both money and honor by acting as physicians to kings and princesses. next to the clergy the jews possessed the largest share of learning. their nomadic life permitted an intercourse with the different nations of the world, which was denied to most others, and there were many who studied medicine and practised, not only among those of their own race but amongst moors and christians alike. the priests became extremely jealous of jewish physicians and of lay surgeons, and endeavored to secure through rome a formal excommunication of all who committed themselves to the care of a jew, while by canon law no jew might give medicine to a christian. but so celebrated were the jewish physicians, and so superior to everything else was men's desire for life and strength, that even the power of rome could not exclude them from practice. still less could the clergy restrain the lay surgeons from the performance of their craft, and though it would appear that at first, in england, the priests were not disposed to separate surgery from medicine, the pope became jealous of so much interruption to the duties of the clergy and looked upon the manual part of surgery as detracting from clerical dignity. accordingly were made numerous attempts to debar priests from the performance of surgical operations. in the ecclesiastics were prohibited by pope innocent iii from undertaking any operation involving the shedding of blood, while by boniface viii at the close of the thirteenth century, and clement v, about the beginning of the fourteenth century, surgery was formally separated from physic and the priests positively forbidden to practice it. it is to the church then that we owe this absolute abandonment of surgery to an illiterate and grasping laity. for some time, however, the priests kept their hold upon surgery by instructing their servants, the barbers, who were employed to shave their own priestly beards, in the performance of minor operations. it was these men, who were in some degree qualified by the instruction of the clergy, who first assumed the title of barber surgeons, and who gradually formed a great fraternity. in france it was in the reign of louis xiv that the hairdressers were formally separated from the barber-surgeons, the latter being incorporated as a distinct medical body. in london it was in that the company of barbers were practically divided into two sections, containing respectively those who practiced shaving, and those who practiced surgery. in the surgeons were finally incorporated by themselves as the guild of surgeons and took their place as one of the liveried companies of the city of london. similar separation occurred in the original great guild of weavers, who divided into the woollen drapers and linen armourers, the latter afterwards becoming the wealthy and powerful company of merchant tailors. to trace the history of the london company of barbers a little more fully, it was first formed in and incorporated in by a charter. in one of the statutes of henry viii it was enacted that: "no person using any shaving or barbery in london shall occult (i. e. practise) any surgery, letting of blood or other matter except only drawing of teeth." in parliament passed an act allowing the united companies of barbers and surgeons each to have yearly the bodies of four criminals for dissection. in the barbers and surgeons were united in one company; the former being restricted from all operations except tooth drawing, and the latter having to abandon shaving and hair dressing. it is interesting also to note that in oxford, for instance, the barbers, surgeons, waferers and makers of "singing bread" were all of the same fellowship, from to ; when, at last, the cappers, or knitters of caps, were united to them, in , the barbers and waferers abrogated their charter and took one in the name of the city, until , when they received a charter from the university. the london guild of surgeons appears to have been first a mere fraternity which had incorporated itself, and to have originated from an association of the military barber surgeons who had been trained in the hundred years war with france, to . its membership, however, was select, and when the physicians declined an alliance with it, it amalgamated with the barber companies in . the united company of barbers and surgeons was peculiar in that strangers and those who were not free men were admitted, while the journeymen of the craft formed a subordinate body within the company. in the surgeons separated from the barbers and formed a surgeon's company which rapidly acquired influence. by a foolish blunder it forfeited its charter in but was subsequently incorporated by george iii, in , as the royal college of surgeons in london; a body which has since maintained its identity, grown tremendously in wealth and strength, and having become one of the licensing bodies of england, has acquired the finest collection of books and specimens in the world and has numbered the brightest intellects which the english surgical profession has contained. in dublin the barber surgeons were incorporated as a guild by charter granted by henry vi, in . in they were amalgamated with the independent surgeons, and by queen elizabeth with the barber surgeons and wig-makers. this confraternity was dissolved in and the college of surgeons founded immediately afterwards. in edinburgh the barbers and surgeons were united in , to be separated at about the same time as elsewhere in great britain. during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries on the continent medicine and surgery were abruptly separated, and the latter was almost entirely in the hands of the barbers. for hundreds of years the dissection of corpses and the embalming of those who could afford it, were in the hands of first the butchers and later of the barbers. the greatest contempt was everywhere shown for one who attempted any surgery. if for instance a nobleman while being bled by a barber received the slightest harm the poor barber was heavily fined, while, should the gentleman die, the culprit was given into the hands of the dead man's relatives to be dealt with as they desired. throughout the monasteries and whenever the influence of the church was felt it was forbidden to the monks, who had the monopoly of knowledge, to perform any surgical operation since the church abhorred the shedding of blood.[ ] [ ] i leave it to defenders of the faith to reconcile this abhorrence with the persecutions of heretics and the tortures of the inquisition permitted by the same church. for hundreds of years the monks were not allowed to wear a beard; this necessitated the employment of tonsors ("tonsorial-artists" they call themselves to-day) to whom was left also the performance of anything that partook of the nature of an operation, such as bleeding, bandaging, etc. this calling, was however, recognized as a most inferior one, and the barbers, like the bathkeeper, the shepherd and the hangman, were not considered of good repute. consequently, such an one was not eligible for membership in any other guilds or fraternities. in the emperor wenzel was rescued from prison, in prague, by the daughter of a bathkeeper; in gratitude he made her his mistress, and declared both barbers and bathkeepers to be respectable; but having lost his position his decree had no weight, and not until , in augsburg, were they really made eligible to the guilds. at this time their most dignified labor was the sharpening of instruments. in leopold i. decreed their profession to be an art, and gave it a position above that of the apothecary so that in their most dignified occupation they were elevated to the making of ointments and plasters. as surgery has for the profession of barber surgery to thank the existence upon man of a beard, so the european continent may thank the crusaders of the eleventh century for having necessitated the existence of the bathkeeper, because of the leprosy which they brought home from the east. during the crusades, as is well known, there were founded numerous orders having for their original purpose the care and protection of pilgrims and injured soldiers. the three most celebrated orders were the knights of st. john, the knights templar and the teutonic order. were this the place it would be most interesting to go into a history of these religio-medico-military orders, and show how from most devout purposes and humble origin they grew into despotic and tyrannical associations of great power, which it finally took all the force of church and state to suppress. as the then humble and enthusiastic members of these orders returned from the holy land they established hospitals for the care of lepers, who became very numerous in europe. for instance it is stated that in france, in , there were two thousand hospitals for this purpose, while the king louis the great founded, in , a special hospital for those made blind by egyptian ophthalmia. it is well known also that during the middle ages there was the greatest neglect of the ordinary canons of cleanliness both among the upper and lower classes. the number of hospitals and cloisters dedicated to the lepers being insufficient, bath houses were built and bathkeepers were engaged in order, so far as possible, to prevent the spread of leprosy. at this time the bathkeeper was permitted to bathe and cup, later also to bleed, although the bleeding was required to be done in the bathkeepers' own house, since he was not usually permitted to enter a patient's house. as bathing became less necessary for purposes already mentioned the bathkeeper took to imitating the barber, though much later, and not until about in some countries, were they permitted to do this publicly, and only after having passed the examinations to which the barber was also subjected. in prussia they were only allowed to treat wounds and chronic diseases, and so it came about that by the beginning of the eighteenth century a really conscientious and efficient barber surgeon was supposed to have served an apprenticeship in large hospitals, to have witnessed the work of noted surgeons and to have served in the army or navy. he was also supposed to be something of a linguist and to know a little botany; particularly was he expected to be conversant with anatomy, although there was a sad lack of cadavers--which was atoned for by the use of carcasses of animals, for the main part swine. eckardt, writing at this time of the sixteen different virtues of a barber, enumerated, first of all, fear of god; then that he should be careful, prudent, temperate, and ready to use both hands with equal dexterity; he claimed that "arrogance seems most prevalent among barbers, as a common saying would imply 'barbers are proud animals.'" he expressed his surprise also at the envy and malice between bathkeepers and barbers, and advised them both to consult physicians and other masters. the customs of the time must be blamed for this lamentable condition of affairs. the boy who was destined to become a barber was apprenticed at a time when he had scarcely learned to write. if he could write legibly and read a little latin no one dared refuse him. he learned to shave and went from house to house for this purpose, spending the little time remaining in sharpening knives, spreading plasters, picking lint, taking care of children, doing all menial duties, and using the same light as the housemaid because it would have been disrespectful to his master's wife to use any other. after years of this work he was gradually taken to visit patients and then was taught how to bleed, cup, apply leeches, extract teeth and clysters. his master knowing nothing of anatomy could give him no instruction, though by the laws of apprenticeship he was bound to do so. before concluding this apprenticeship he was supposed to pass an examination, which his master's laziness usually permitted him to escape. he then presented the master with some silver instruments and was dismissed with an injunction to be thankful that such a miserable specimen of god's creatures had ever been taught to shave a beard or spread a plaster. he now became a journeyman, still living at the house of his master, and was not allowed to marry; after a while he received a paltry sum as wages, got his dinners free and began to dabble on his own account. study was out of the question; these men could not understand what little they did read and served the community mainly as bearers of tales. after some years of activity as journeyman they could become masters by applying to the authorities, presenting certificates, and passing an examination before the physicians of the district. prussia was the first country to appreciate the necessity of regulating medical practice, and the barbers and bathkeepers were placed under the control of the medical college founded, in , by prince frederick william. in this institution attained its greatest activity, having a subordinate school in each province. in king frederick william issued a famous edict which did much to regulate medical affairs throughout the kingdom, and directed among other things that barbers and bathkeepers should "lead a religious, temperate, retired and sober life, in order to be at their best whenever their services were required." when their business was not sufficiently good they assumed other cares, as, for instance, one man was surgeon, municipal judge and post-master all at once. they were extremely envious of each other and often dabbled in medicine without permission. it was not until that the bathkeepers were permitted to rank in prussia with the barbers, and were allowed to use more than four basins, the bathkeepers' guild being incorporated with that of the barber. there being no temptation to enter these ranks it is not strange that so late even as good surgeons were rare in germany; not one in fifty of the barbers really knowing the first principles of the work they were supposed to perform. it came to such a pass that surgeons were compelled to shave and perform other duties of the hairdresser, for no surgeon, however skilled, was allowed to practice as such, unless he was the proprietor of a head-shaving and bathing establishment, with assistants and apprentices, and belonged to the barbers' guild, or unless he was favored by royal exemption. it was the general lament in germany, all through the th century, that german surgeons were educated in barber shops. even by the middle of that century the practice of surgery was not considered an honorable business, and those who practiced it were not permitted to carry a sword, neither was a surgeon admitted into society nor tolerated among physicians; moreover when unsuccessful he was bitterly and relentlessly pursued. under existing conditions the reichstag either could or would do nothing to alleviate the distressing condition. the physician boasted of his education and treated the surgeon and his craft with disdain, holding that surgery sustained the same relation to medicine that geometry does to higher mathematics and physics. all this time, however, while the physician contented himself with disdaining surgeons he made no attempt to elevate the craft nor to himself study and adorn it. even by the beginning of the nineteenth century there were scarcely any physicians in europe who could diagnose a surgical case, while dentistry they claimed called for no more skill than that sufficient for tooth extraction. it was even claimed that so long as the people generally were neglectful of their teeth the physician, or even the surgeon, should be ashamed to concern himself with dentistry. von siebold, in his day, deplored the position of the surgeon; his large military experience had shown him the difficulties with which he had to contend before he could enter society, while his ambitions and high motives were scorned. even the peasantry were bitterly opposed to all operations. so intense were their feelings that he repeatedly removed his patients to other towns before performing operations. nevertheless it was true that there were the best of reasons for lack of confidence in any barber who dropped his razor for the purpose of treating a fracture, a hernia or an obstetric case. the state required a barber surgeon to call in a physician in all complicated surgical cases. in such a case the physician demanded the control of the case and reserved to himself the right to judge of what was required. he would not even consider a surgeon who had obtained the doctorate as his equal. such consultations resulted in little but quarrels and disagreeable scenes. if a village contained no physician the surgeon treated also internal diseases, though he was not allowed to use strong medicines. every district had its special surgeon who, alone, had charge of several villages where he had the right to keep journeymen and apprentices and to do shaving and cupping. in the prussian capital city only twenty german and six french surgeons were allowed to practice in , besides the court and private surgeons. until every german surgeon carried on a medico-legal business which was later separated from his surgery. in there were three classes of surgeons; from the lower one might be promoted to a higher after an examination. in austria, in , there were doctors of surgery who were required to show a general knowledge of medicine and who had the same rights as the physicians; there were also medical surgeons who could practice under restrictions, and bathkeepers for minor surgery. after the year barbers and bathkeepers were both spoken of in austria as surgeons; this was to break up the disputes between them. according to an official feebill holding good in prussia in , the highest fee that could be charged for an operation was for lithotomy in adults, the maximum limit being about m. ($ ), while the majority of operations ranged from m. to m. ($ . to $ . expressed in u. s. money). of course this was at a time when the value of money was much greater than now. as already made plain, it was the church which by its decrees brought about the separation of surgery from medicine, a condition not existing during the palmy days of greece and rome. even the university of paris at one time refused to admit a student who had not foresworn the study of surgery, while the denouncement of anatomy and surgery alike was promulgated by both papal bulls and clerical decrees. while many of the physicians considered surgery too burdensome a study, and many others had a severe prejudice against it, the principal cause operating to keep them apart was probably the fact that for surgeons there was absolutely no social position. in mederer was made professor of surgery in freiburg, in breisgau; he delivered his opening address on the wisdom and necessity of combining medicine and surgery. as a result he was persecuted by the public, insulted by students, abused by surgeons and constantly threatened with personal assault. he maintained his position, however, and fought against the prejudice. twenty-two years later, when he left freiburg, he referred in his last lecture to his early experience. by this time public opinion had been so changed that the students serenaded him and humbly apologized for what their predecessors had done. mederer could then see the success of his efforts in that the constitution of france contained a clause combining medicine and surgery, and the royal sanitary commissioners of vienna had unanimously resolved in favor of such union. the movement begun by mederer was continued by men like richter, von siebold, loder and others. in , or over a hundred years ago, the electoral academy of erfurt offered a prize for the best essay on the subject "is it necessary and possible to combine medicine and surgery theoretically as well as practically?" fourteen papers were submitted, of which twelve were in favor of union. nevertheless the academy awarded the prize to the only writer who had opposed such union. his reasons for such opposition were most puerile, as were all the arguments subsequently advanced against it. nevertheless a great step was taken in advance, when the guilds and fraternities of barbers and bathkeepers were abolished, in which good work vienna, in , took the lead. it was then declared that shaving was the business of the hair-dresser, and that barber surgeons must attend lectures in surgery and anatomy. bavaria followed in , and four years later, in prussia, no one was permitted to practice surgery without having studied medicine. the rules of regulating the respective positions and duties between physicians and surgeons were annulled in , and by the barber license was no longer essential for the practice of surgery, the privileges of the barber, as such, being abolished, while for his trade only a common license was needed. xii the story of the discovery of the circulation a study of the times and labors of william harvey[ ] [ ] address delivered at the annual commencement of the medical department of the university of chicago, (rush medical college), june , . history in general is but a record of the succession of great events or epochs which have moulded the world's affairs. that which is of the greatest import in the life of the individual may count for little in the lives of his contemporaries, and yet it must be said that in the events of to-day there has occurred a great epoch in the life of each of you, presumably the most important as yet in your personal records. this day is then in your personal histories one of the greatest importance. it is desirable, therefore, that your lives be so moulded and influenced by it that you may long hence look back to it and recall its significance. i do not know what advice i can give you which will be more fruitful of results, than that among your studies you include that of the lives of the great men who have moulded destiny and made the world's history. their lives were modified by little things, as have been and will be yours, and yet out of small matters grew for them and for us some of the most far reaching effects. select the really great men of whom you best happen to know and analyze their characters that you may appreciate how they have become great; while if they have, as all great men have, traits of smallness, study even wherein they are small, and how such faults may be avoided. history runs as does a fairly steady stream, save that every now and then some event abruptly diverts its course or influences its current. it has been so, for instance, with the history of medicine. for the first sixteen hundred years of the christian era men engaged in the crude practices of our profession, utterly ignorant of the course of the blood, as well as of its purposes. then appeared upon the scene a man who did his own thinking, who was willing to free himself from the shackles of the past, to observe nature and to reason therefrom. in this way came suddenly upon the world, as it were, an appreciation of the circulation of the blood, than which perhaps no event in medical history has been of greater importance or reflected more credit upon its demonstrator. it is my purpose, then, to-day to try to tell you, in a semipopular way, how william harvey came to make this great discovery, as well as to give you some idea of the difficulties under which he worked, and of the men and influences that surrounded him, believing that rather than spend a half hour in humorous platitudes which may provoke a smile, but which are quickly forgotten, it is much better to try to implant something which may linger a while in your memories, and sufficiently impress you with the value of observation and inductive reasoning, since if you become thus fully impressed you will be spared in the future many sad errors of speech and even of thought. before telling the story of harvey's life and work let us study for a few moments the general condition of affairs in europe, in order that we may better understand the men whose influence surrounded him, as well as the spirit of the times and men's habits of thought. among the monarchs reigning in various parts of europe during harvey's time there were, for instance, in that part of the empire of the west which was called germany, rudolph ii, matthias and ferdinand. in sweden reigned king sigismund, charles ix, the great monarch gustavus adolphus, and queen christine. in prussia the throne had been occupied by joachim, george william and frederick william, as electors, this being before the days of the prussian kings. in russia the czars boris godunow, michael theodore and alexis had occupied the throne. france had but recently passed through the inhuman butchery of the massacre of st. bartholomew and its accompanying persecution of the huguenots, under charles ix, who expressed the hope that not a single huguenot would be left alive to reproach him with the deed, but who died himself soon after the massacre, which is said to have caused him bitter remorse. charles had been succeeded by his brother henry iii, a weak, fickle and vicious monarch, whose weakness caused him to be embroiled in civil strife, which was only concluded by his own assassination at the hands of a dominican friar. then came henry iv, he of navarre, afterwards surnamed the great, who fought the famous battle of ivry in , and who reigned for twenty-one years, the greatest and most popular sovereign who ever occupied the throne of france. notwithstanding his noble qualities he did not succeed in preserving his court from many of the contaminations of the age, and in his reign it is said that no less than , french gentlemen were killed in duels, chiefly arising out of quarrels about women. he was succeeded by louis xiii, who was still on the throne when harvey died. in harvey's own country james i was occupying the throne when harvey appeared upon the scene. he was that royal pedant whom the duke of sully pronounced "the wisest fool in europe." after his death, and when charles i ascended the throne during his twenty-fifth year, in , harvey was preparing to publish his great work. it was this charles i who retained as a favorite the worthless scoundrel buckingham, whose misconduct in spain prevented the proposed marriage of the king with the spanish infanta and brought about the civil war. it was because of the cost of this war, and of the king's disputes with parliament regarding the matter, that england was rent between the conflicts of the cavaliers and the roundheads, two of the consequences of this intestine strife being the execution of the earl of strafford and of archbishop laud. the troubles thus engendered finally cost the life of the king himself, who was beheaded in . harvey even lived to see the first half of the short tenure of office of cromwell as the great protector, and was perhaps fortunate in dying before began the reign of that odious profligate charles ii. it is worth while to enquire for a moment what was doing on this side of the ocean at this period which we have now under consideration. in virginia was settled by the english, in new york, by the dutch, in massachusetts and, three years later, new hampshire, by the english puritans; in new jersey, by the dutch, in delaware by swedes and finns, in maine, by the english, in maryland, by irish catholics, in connecticut, by english puritans. thus it will be seen that the active period of harvey's life was synchronous with the beginnings of our colonial activities. very little knowledge of what was going on in the then world of science was brought to this country at this period of its existence, however, and it was many years before in these colonies there were any exhibitions of scientific interest save in extremely scattered and sporadic cases. among harvey's literary associates were a number of celebrated english poets, for example,--marlowe ( ), spenser ( ), beaumont ( ), shakespeare ( ), herbert ( ), ben jonson ( ), massinger ( ). lord bacon died a year or two after the appearance of harvey's book, while baron napier, the inventor of logarithms, had passed away. his contemporaries in italy, where he had studied, included tasso ( ) and galileo ( ). rubens had died in , michael angelo in and titian in . in france, calvin, the practical murderer of servetus, had passed away in , beza died in , descartes in , pascal in and gassendi in . portugal had produced but one great figure in the th century, namely camoens, who died in . in spain, loyola, the ascetic and fanatic founder of the jesuits, had joined the great majority in ; but cervantes did not die until , lope de vega in , velasquez in and calderon in . in germany some great figures had but recently disappeared. paracelsus died in , copernicus in , luther in , hans holbein in , and melancthon in . mercator, who introduced a new method of cartography, died in , tycho brahe in , keppler in , van dyck in , grotius, the great scholar, in , rembrandt in and spinoza in . in philosophy, scepticism was the prevailing doctrine in the time of harvey. it had been founded a hundred years previously by montaigne, and continued by charron, the chaplain of queen margaret of navarre, who died in , and who declared all religion to be opposed to human reason;--a remarkable attitude for a chaplain to assume. opposed to the scepticism of harvey's day was the mystic, cabalistic or supernatural philosophy especially represented by böhme, a peasant shoemaker, uneducated and yet wonderfully gifted. he had been the philosophical colleague of that great meistersinger, hans sachs. later philosophers and thinkers, yet belonging to harvey's time, were pascal, the great jansenist, who discovered the variations of atmospheric pressure at different levels, and malebranche, who figures prominently in the history of philosophy. descartes, who died in , held the pineal gland to be the seat of the soul. he was the discoverer of the laws of refraction of light and furnished the explanation for the rainbow. he attained greatest eminence in mathematics, physics and philosophy, and was one of the inventors of modern algebra. one of his greatest opponents was that noble jew, spinoza, whose colleagues had expelled him from the sanhedrim to the sound of the trombone. the italian dominican campanella, who died in , considered the foundation of knowledge to be supernatural revelation and its perception by the senses. in spite of these views he came before the inquisition on a charge of heresy and of cooperation with the turks, was tortured by the rack, and imprisoned for thirty years. the mystic or cabalistic notions of harvey's day have just been mentioned. under them we may recognize many degenerate products and amalgamations of the real doctrines of paracelsus. the doctrines of the rosicrucians, as well as of zoroaster and the cabala, were revived and made to do strange work. there was, for instance, that sir kenelm digby, who died in , a king's chamberlain, who posed among the english as a so-called rosicrucian. it was he who suggested the famous "_sympathetic powder_," which was to be applied to the weapon by which a wound had been inflicted, after which the _weapon_ was anointed and dressed two or three times a day, while the wound itself was carefully bound up with dressings and left alone for a week. this was perhaps much the better course, but it will show what strange notions prevailed in those days. what it meant to run counter to ecclesiastical policy and theological dogma appears not only in such tragedies as terminated the lives of bruno and many other martyrs to science, but in such facts as these; for instance, when in , just when harvey was preparing to publish his work, some young chemists in paris, seeing the benefit of the experimental method, broke away from aristotle and the canons of theological reasoning, the faculty of theology appealed to the parliament of paris, which latter prohibited all such researches, under the severest penalties. this was the time too when such exhibitions as the following were altogether too frequent;--one quaresimo, of lodi, came out with a ponderous work entitled "a historical, theological and moral explanation of the holy land," in which he devoted great space to the question of the dead sea and the salt pillar supposed to represent lot's wife, dividing a long chapter upon the subject into three parts, dealing with the method and the locality of this transformation and the question of the existence at that time of her saline remains. thus, with his peculiar powers of reasoning, he was able to decide the exact point where the saline change took place, and finally showed that the statue _was still in existence_. lord bacon was also an older contemporary of harvey, having been born in and dying in , shortly after the appearance of harvey's great work. his services to analytic science need no description here, but it is worth while to remember that harvey, like many others, must have come under his influence and have profited by his teachings in logic and analysis. at about the time when harvey made known his discovery bacon was publishing his views of the laws of transmission and reflection of sound. great man as he was, with a keen foresight into the value of the recent inventions of the compass, gun-powder and printing, he nevertheless was himself so narrow, in some respects, that he placed but little value upon the discovery of copernicus. he, however, paved the way for one in some respects still greater, namely isaac newton, who, however, had scarcely attained man's stature when harvey died. how much we owe to the two great bacons of history one cannot indicate in this short résumé. roger bacon ( - ) seems to have been the first great thinker along truly scientific lines. he was more than a mere chemist while, as white says, more than three centuries before francis bacon _advocated_ the experimental method roger bacon had _practised_ it, and in many directions. he did more than anyone else in the middle ages to direct thought into fruitful paths, and only now are we finding out how nearly he reached some of the principal doctrines of modern philosophy and chemistry. most important of all, his methods were even greater than his results, and this at a time when "theological subtilizing" was the only passport to reputation for scholarship. it was avicenna, the arabian, who perhaps first announced substantially the modern theory of geology, accounting for changes in the earth's surface by suggesting a stone-making force, but the presence of fossils in the rocks had been always a thorn in the sides of the theologians. it was leonardo da vinci, that versatile genius in science and art, who, previous to harvey's generation, suggested true notions as to the origin of fossils, while, in harvey's time, bernard palissy, another artist, vehemently contended for their correctness. still, even at harvey's death, neither geology nor paleontology had come anywhere near scientific accuracy. the _academia dei lyncei_, so-called from its seal, which bore the image of a fox, was founded in rome in . in france the academy of science was not founded until , in germany the society of naturalists and physicians in , and the british royal society in . in matters of general interest it may be worth while to say that in architecture the general style of the renaissance was changed for the more substantial barocco, while the more formal and limited style of church music had given away to musical drama, i. e., opera, albeit in very crude form. the first newspaper had appeared at antwerp in , the first german paper being published in frankfort in , and the london weekly news making its first appearance in . tobacco, which had been brought over by raleigh in , had come into quite general use, while coffee, tea and chocolate had gained in public esteem. when coffee was first introduced in england it sold for about $ a pound. the first coffee house appears to have been established in constantinople, in the middle of the th century, while the first coffee house in london was not opened until a century later. the barbers still retained their ascendency, and the bath keepers had scarcely lost their position next to the barbers. it was not until harvey had reached a ripe age that the barbers were required in germany to pass an examination, in which they had to prove not only their knowledge but the legitimacy of their birth, and the fact that they had studied for three years and had worked for three years more as apprentices. anatomy was studied quite generally, sometimes upon human bodies. a dissecting room had been established in dresden in , in which stuffed bears, at that time a great rarity, were preserved with other curiosities. in rolfink, at jena, arranged for public dissection upon the bodies of all executed malefactors, delegates being present thereat from various other institutions. it is worth while to mention that in frankfort, for instance, during the expiration of years, but seven dissections were made, and that these were always accompanied by a celebration which lasted several days. vienna did not possess a skeleton in , and strassburg did not have one until . yet it is of interest to remember that the anatomical plates, like those often published to-day, which are meant to be lifted off in layers, existed even at this period. on the other hand, botanical gardens and chemical laboratories existed in several of the universities,--in strassburg, for instance, in ,--in oxford in . fabricius hildanus, the father of german surgery, or, as he has been sometimes called, the ambroise paré, of germany, was also a contemporary of harvey's. his real name was fabry and he was born in hilden, but he latinized his name into that form usually adopted to-day. scultetus was another famous surgeon of the same period. william gilbert, - , had been the talented physician of queen elizabeth, and was among the first to study the experimental method. with the appearance of his book upon the magnet, in , began the science of electricity and magnetism. he was the first to teach the fact that the earth itself was a great magnet and he distinguished between magnetic and electric reactions. later the great dutch anatomist, ruysch, afforded corroboration of harvey's views by another method, when he invented and practised those beautiful minute injections of the vascular system which made him so famous, and built up that great collection of specimens which peter the great bought for russia at an expense of about $ , . contemporary with harvey also was swammerdam, one of the most versatile men of his time, famous as naturalist, savant, physiologist, linguist and poet. it was during the fifteenth century that astronomy began to assume an importance and degree of accuracy never hitherto known. this was due very largely to the independence of thought and the researches of copernicus, who was born in cremona in , and who studied medicine in krakau and astronomy in vienna. he lived to the age of and was the real father of the heliocentric theory, now known as the copernician system, which he substituted for the previous ptolemaic theory, thus reversing the ancient idea that the sun circled about the earth. copernicus demonstrated the phases of the moon, but his opponents claimed that if this doctrine were true venus would exhibit the same phenomena; to which he replied that it was true, though he knew not what to say to these objections, but that god was good and would in time furnish answer to them. it was galileo's crude telescope which, in harvey's younger day, in , furnished this answer and revealed the phases of venus. to illustrate how the views of copernicus were received we might add here that martin luther paid his compliments to him by declaring that copernicus was a fool who wished to stand astronomy upon its head. copernicus was succeeded by galileo, who was born in in pisa, and died . he may be called the creator of dynamic astronomy and mechanics, as well as one of the most brilliant exponents of experimental and inductive reasoning. he was of noble birth and was, in fact, the torch bearer of physics at the period of the renaissance. he gave up speculation and substituted for it the habit of observation, reaping a large harvest of surprising facts, any one of which might have immortalized him. he not only established the movements of the earth on its own axis as well as around the sun, which copernicus had shown, but he discovered the weight of the atmosphere and first calculated the law of gravity. he and his successors were governed always by that aphorism which is to-day as true as ever: "experience is deceptive and judgment difficult." in when he was before the inquisition, at rome, and when its theologians had examined statements extracted from his letters, they solemnly rendered their decision in these words: "the first proposition that the sun is the centre and does not revolve about the earth is foolish, absurd, false in theology and heretical, because expressly contrary to the holy scripture. the second proposition that the earth is not the centre, but revolves about the sun, is absurd, false in philosophy and, from a theological point of view, at least, opposed to the true faith." this for a pronunciamento from the _infallible_ church! galileo and bruno have by some writers both been made to stand in an unpleasant light because of their recantation or shifting position before the inquisition. bruno was the greatest philosopher and sceptic of the latter part of the th century, and had outlined, withal somewhat vaguely, that which is now known as the nebular hypothesis. he was murdered by the inquisition in , and the views which he enunciated seem to have been buried with him, not to reappear until long after his sad fate had been consummated. he had, for instance, contended for the truths of the copernican doctrine, but it was not until ten years after his martyrdom that galileo proved it with his telescope. that both these great men yielded in some respects to the influences of the inquisition and renounced some of their scientific "heresies" is largely to be excused by the fact that they were both old, broken in health from the sufferings which they had endured, as well as from their disappointments, and that they had been, under these circumstances, handed over to that inquisition which knew no mercy. galileo could well remember the _auto da fê_ in the piazza dei fiore, in rome, the scene of bruno's martyrdom, as well as the tragic end of many another who had dared to have the courage of his convictions. let us, then, not judge him harshly, but be grateful even that the enormous power of the inquisition did not and could not suppress the truth. galileo's discovery of the satellites of jupiter, the rings of saturn, his experiments with the pendulum, his construction of the telescope, as well as of the thermometer, and many other deeds, have stamped him as one of the great figures in the history of progress and science. it is most interesting to note that this contemporary of harvey's, like himself, was given to inductions obtained from experimental studies. another great astronomical light of harvey's time was keppler, who was driven from one place to another by religious fanaticism, until he ended his life in . it was he who formulated the great principle which underlies the motions of the planets, and who gave to the world his so-called "laws," which so materially advanced the science of astronomy. it was he who really discovered that comet which was later given hailey's name, whose periodic return he first foretold. such was the spirit of the times in which harvey lived, and such the influences which surrounded his teachers before him and himself in turn. it makes a long preface to a consideration of what harvey himself accomplished, but it is not without its interest because men and their deeds must be judged largely by their environment. now, to speak more particularly of harvey himself, and what was known of the circulation when he undertook his investigations. the liver had been considered, from time immemorial, as the principal factor in the production and movement of the blood. the ancients supposed that here the veins took their origin and that through them the blood flowed to all parts of the body, returning to its source by an undulating movement or series of alternate waves. the arteries had been supposed to contain only vital spirits, whose great reservoir was the heart, although erasistratus had admitted that in certain cases blood might escape into the arterial channels. later galen showed that the arteries always contained blood, and he knew that blood was poured into the right side of the heart by the great veins, but believed that only a little of it passed from the right ventricle into the lungs, the greater part of it passing through hypothetical pores in the septum and thus into the left ventricle. this opinion, like galen's in other respects, remained unchanged until the middle of the th century. it was also known that valves existed within the veins, and that if an artery were tied on a living animal blood would cease to flow and pulsation be checked below the ligature, while if a vein were tied it shrunk above the ligature and became distended below. three men before harvey's time came very near to discovering the secret that made him famous; in fact, they made such advances on what was already known that history should accord them a distinguished place. one was _columbus_, who was born at cremona in , and died in . he was first a pupil and prosector and then a friend of vesalius, the great anatomist. later he succeeded him at the university of padua and unfortunately, after gaining his position, ungratefully turned upon his old teacher. he was, however, for his day a good anatomist and especially a good osteologist. it was he who first demonstrated experimentally that blood passes through the lungs into the pulmonary veins and that the latter connect with the left ventricle. he thus practically established the fact of the lesser circulation. he suffered, however, as did servetus, from the prevailing notion that spirits and blood were mixed together. from padua columbus went to pisa, and then to rome. he wrote with elegance and correctness of style and even described the vessels which penetrate the bone cells, the ossicles of the ear, the minute anatomy of the teeth, the ventricles of the larynx, as well as those valves which prevent the return of blood from the lungs to the heart. in fact, he narrowly missed the significance of the actual facts of the case, simply failing in his final analysis and assembling of those facts which he had already demonstrated. _cesalpinus_, who lived a little later, came still nearer the mark, having accepted the teachings of columbus regarding the course of the blood through the lungs. he added that the ultimate arterial branches connect with those of the veins, and he taught that blood and vital spirits, from which the ancients could never separate themselves, passed from the arteries into the veins during sleep, as was demonstrated by the swelling of the veins and the diminution of the pulse at that time. a little later came _michael servetus_, who figures principally in history as a theologian and a victim of theologians, since he perished a martyr to calvin's jealousy. he was, in effect, a wisely and widely educated man who did a great deal for science, one of the offences attributed to him being an edition of ptolemy's geography, in which judea was described as a barren and inhospitable land instead of one "flowing with milk and honey." this simple statement of a geographical fact was made a tremendous weapon of offence by calvin, who replied that even if servetus had only quoted from ptolemy and, although there were ample geographical proofs, it nevertheless "unnecessarily inculpated moses and grievously outraged the holy ghost." servetus dared to deny the passage of the blood through the septum of the heart, and contended that that which comes into the right side was distributed to the lung and returned to the left ventricle. he published his views, however, in a religious treatise on errors concerning the trinity, a most unfortunate place in which to inject such an important fact, since it gave his enemies a still greater opportunity to vent and ventilate their spleen. had he been able to leave out that notion of vital spirits, which prevailed with all his predecessors, he might actually have made the great discovery left for harvey to enunciate. i have not been able to refer to original documents in this matter, but it is claimed by some that his description of the circulation was contained in another religious work concerning the restitution of christianity, which was printed in nuremberg in . such was the actual state of knowledge concerning the movements of the blood and the functions of the heart when harvey published his great work. it behooves us now to proceed with a short account of harvey's own life and researches. _william harvey_ was born at folkestone on the first of april, . he was the eldest son of a prosperous merchant who raised a large family and who occupied the highest positions of honor in his own town. the son william was born to his second wife, by whom he had seven sons and two daughters. all of these children were helped to remunerative or honorable positions. they became merchants or politicians or secured prominence in some way, but william was the only one to study medicine. he was sent to the king's school at canterbury, in , and he was admitted at caius, in cambridge, in , where he graduated in arts in . the following year he went to padua, which then had one of the greatest medical schools of the time, and he obtained his medical diploma in , when twenty-four years of age. returning to england he received a doctor's degree at cambridge, and shortly afterward married a daughter of a london physician and entered upon the practice of medicine in london. in the great city his practice as a physician seems to have been from the outset successful, and his knowledge and ability procured him various valuable appointments. he was made a fellow of the college of physicians in . this royal college of physicians was given a grant of incorporation by henry viii in , at the intercession of chambers, linacre and ferdinand victoria, the king's physicians, it being under the patronage of cardinal wolsey. the first meetings were held at linacre's house which he bequeathed to the corporation at his death. until this college was founded practitioners of medicine were licensed to practise by the bishop of london or by the dean of st. paul's. a few years later harvey was appointed physician-extraordinary to king james i, and later yet, after the publication of his great treatise and its dedication to the king, he was made physician-in-ordinary to charles i, whom he attended during the civil wars. it must have been about when harvey first began expounding his views on the circulation of the blood, during lectures which were delivered at the college of physicians, but it was not until thirteen years later, i. e., in , that his great work de motu cordis was published in latin, as was customary among scholars, and at frankfort-on-the-main, since that was then the great center of the book publishing trade. the treatise was dedicated to king charles i, in a manner which to us would seem servile, and yet which was according to a custom followed by nearly all of the scholars of the day, who desired to attract not only the attention of royalty, but, in most instances, their benevolent assistance. it is worth while to quote at this point the first sentence or two of his dedication: "to the most serene and invincible charles, of great britain, france and ireland, king: defender of the faith, most serene king, "the heart of animals is the basis of their life, the principle of the whole, the sun of their microcosm, that upon which all movement depends, from which all strength proceeds. the king in like manner is the basis of his kingdom, the sun of his world, the heart of the commonwealth, whence all power derives, all grace appears. what i have here written of the movements of the heart i am the more emboldened to present to your majesty, according to the custom of the present age, because nearly all things human are done after human examples and many things in the king are after the pattern of the heart." the dedication was followed by a proemium which one may hardly read to-day without emotion. in it he sets forth the mystery that has surrounded the subject of the motion and function of the heart, as well as the attendant difficulties of the subject, speaking of his own early despair that he would ever be able to clear up the subject. he even said that at one time he found the matter so beset with difficulties that he was inclined to agree with fracastorius "that the movements of the heart and their purpose could be comprehended by god alone." only later was this despair dispelled by a suggestion when, as he says: "i began to think whether there might not be a movement in a circle" when thus the truth dawned fully upon him. we shall have to speak later of the opposition provoked by the appearance of this work and its almost general rejection. it is perhaps, however, but just to those who disputed harvey's discoveries to recall that no complete and actual demonstration of the actual circulation was possible at that time, nor for many years after, and until the introduction of the microscope, the common magnifying glass of that day being the only lens in use. it remained for malpighi to demonstrate the blood actually in circulation in the lung of a frog some three or four years after harvey's death, in . but harvey lived long enough to see his views gain general acceptance, and though at first, and as the result of the opposition provoked by his publication, his practice fell off mightily, he later regained his professional position and rose to the highest eminence, being elected in to the presidency of the college of physicians. to this institution he proved a great benefactor, making considerable additions to the building after its destruction in the great fire of and its subsequent restoration. he also left a certain sum of money as a foundation for an annual oration, to be delivered in commemoration of those who had been great benefactors of the college. this oration is still regularly delivered on st. luke's day, i. e., the th of october, and is ordinarily known as the harveian oration. in these orations more or less reference to harvey's work and influence is always made. this great man passed away on the d of june, , within ten months of his eightieth birthday, thus affording a brilliant exception to the list of men who have rendered great service to the world and not lived long enough to see it appreciated. as one reads harvey's own words, the wonder ever grows that it should have remained for him, after the lapse of so many centuries, to not only call attention to what had been said by galen but apparently forgotten by his successors, namely, that "the arteries contained blood and nothing but blood, and, consequently, neither spirits nor air, as may be readily gathered from experiments and reasonings," which he elsewhere furnishes. he furthermore shows how galen demonstrated this by applying two ligatures upon an exposed artery at some distance from each other, and then opening the vessel itself in which nothing but blood could be found. he calls attention also to the result of ligation of one of the large vessels of an extremity, the inevitable result being just what we to-day know it must be, and the procedure terminating with gangrene of the limb. not long before harvey's own publication, fabricius, he of aquapendente, had published a work on respiration, stating that, as the pulsation of the heart and arteries was insufficient for the ventilation and refrigeration of the blood, therefore were the lungs fashioned to surround the heart. harvey showed how the arterial pulse and respiration could not serve the same ends, combating the view generally held, that if the arteries were filled with air, a larger quantity of air penetrating when the pulse is large and full, it must come to pass that if one plunge into a bath of water or of oil when the pulse is strong and full it should forthwith become either smaller or much slower, since the surrounding fluid would render it either difficult or impossible for air to penetrate. he also called attention to the inconsistencies between this view and the arrangement of the prenatal circulation; also to the fact that marine animals, living in the depths of the sea, could under no circumstances take in or emit air by the movements of their arteries and beneath the infinite mass of waters, inasmuch as "to say that they absorb the air that is present in the water and emit their fumes into this medium, were to utter something very like a figment;" furthermore "when the windpipe is divided, air enters and returns through the wound by two opposite movements, but when an artery is divided blood escapes in one continuous stream and no air passes." discussing further the views which he stigmatized as so incongruous and mutually subversive that every one of them is justly brought under suspicion, he reverts again to the statements of galen, calling attention to the fact that from a single divided artery the whole of the blood of the body may be withdrawn in the course of half an hour or less, and to the inevitable consequences of such an act; also that when an artery is opened the blood is emptied with force and in jets, and that the impulse corresponds with that of the heart; again that in an aneurism the pulsation is the same as in other arteries, appealing for corroboration in this matter to the recent statements of riolan, who later became his avowed enemy. harvey also called attention to the fact that while ordinarily there was a seemingly fixed relation between respiration and pulse-rate, this might vary very much under certain circumstances, showing that respiration and circulation were two totally different processes. harvey utilized also the results of his researches in comparative anatomy and physiology, for early in his work he called attention to the fact that every animal which is unfurnished with lungs lacks a right ventricle. in his proemium he then proceeds to ask certain very pertinent questions which can only be briefly summarized in this place. he asks: first, why, inasmuch as the structure of both ventricles is practically identical, it should be imagined that their uses are different, and why, if tricuspid valves are placed at the entrance into the right ventricle and prove obstacles to the return of blood into vena cava, and if similar valves are situated at the commencement of the pulmonary artery, preventing return of blood into the ventricle, then why, when similar valves are found in connection with the other side of the heart, should we deny that they are there for the same purpose of prevention "here the egress" and "there the regurgitation of the blood?" secondly, he asks why, in view of the similarity of these structures, it should be said that things are arranged in the left ventricle for the egress and regress of spirits, and in the right ventricle for those of blood? thirdly, he enquires why, when one notes the resemblance between the passages and vessels connected with the opposite sides of the heart, one should regard one side as destined to a private purpose, namely, that of nourishing the lungs, the other to a more public function? furthermore, he enquires, since the lungs are so near, and in continual movement, and the vessels supplying them of such dimensions, what can be the use of the pulse of the right ventricle, which he had often observed in the course of his experiments? he sums up his inability to accept the explanations previously offered with a phrase which reads rather strangely, even in original latin: "deus bone! quomodo tricuspides impediunt aëris egressum, non sanguinis." i. e., "good god! how should the mitral valves prevent the regurgitation of air and not of blood?" he then takes up the views of those who have believed that the blood oozed through the septum of the heart from the right to the left side by certain secret pores, and to them he replied "by hercules, no such pores can be demonstrated, nor, in fact, do any such exist." again, "besides, if the blood could permeate the substance of the septum, or could be emptied from the ventricles, what use were there for the coronary artery and vein, branches of which proceed to the septum itself, to supply it with nourishment?" further on in the treatise harvey sets forth his motives for writing, stating how greatly unsettled had become his mind in that he did not know what he himself should conclude nor what to believe from others. he says: "i was not surprised that laurentius should have written that the movements of the heart were as perplexing as the flux and reflux of euripus had appeared to aristotle." he apologizes for the crime, as some of his friends considered it, that he should dare to depart from the precepts and opinions of all anatomists. he acknowledged that he took the step all the more willingly, seeing that fabricius, who had accurately and learnedly delineated almost every one of the several parts of animals in a special work, had left the heart entirely untouched. passing more directly to the actual work of the heart, he shows that not only are the ventricles contracted by virtue of the muscular structure of their own walls, but further that those fibers or bands, styled "nerves" by aristotle, that are so conspicuous in the ventricles of larger animals when they contract simultaneously, by an admirable adjustment, help to draw together all the internal surfaces as if with cords, thus expelling the charge of contained blood with force. later on he says that if the pulmonary artery be opened, blood will be seen spurting forth from it, just as when any other artery is punctured, and that the same result follows division of the vessel which in fishes leads from the heart. he furnishes a very happy simile to prove that the pulses of the arteries are due to the impulses of the left ventricle by showing how, when one blows into a glove all of its fingers will be found to have become distended at one and the same time. he quotes aristotle, who made no distinction between veins and arteries, but said that the blood of all animals palpitates within their vessels and by the pulse is sent everywhere simultaneously, all of this depending upon the heart. it is in chapter five of the treatise that he gives, probably for the first time, an accurate published account of just what transpires with one complete cycle of cardiac activity. the passage need not be quoted here, but deserves to be read by everyone interested in the subject, as who should not be? one sentence, however, is worth quotation or, at least, a summary, as follows: "but if the divine galen will here allow, as in other places he does, that all the arteries of the body arise from the great artery, and that this takes its origin from the heart; that all the vessels naturally contain and carry blood; that the three semilunar valves situated at the orifice of the aorta prevent the return of the blood into the heart, and that they were here for some important purpose,--i do not see how he can deny that the great artery is the very vessel to carry the blood, when it has attained its highest triumph of perfection, from the heart for distribution to all parts of the body." his chapter six deals with the course by which blood is carried from the right into the left ventricle, and here one must admire the large number of experimental demonstrations which harvey had undertaken upon all classes of animals, for he speaks even of that which occurs in small insects, whose circulation he had studied so far as he could with the simple lens. furthermore he described the prenatal circulation, omitting practically nothing of that which is taught to-day, showing that in embryos, while the lungs are yet in a state of inaction, both ventricles of the heart are employed, as if they were but one, for the transmission of blood. in concluding this chapter he again states briefly the course of the blood, and promises to show, first, that this may be so and, then, to prove that it really is so. his chapter seven is devoted to showing how the blood passes through the substance of the lungs from the right ventricle and then on into the pulmonary vein and left ventricle. he alludes to the multitude of doubters as belonging, as the poet had said, to that race of men who, when they will, assent full readily, and when they will not, by no matter of means; who, when their assent is wanted, fear, and when it is not, fear not to give it. a little later on he says: "as there are some who admit nothing unless upon authority, let them learn that the truth i am contending for can be confirmed from galen's own words, namely, that not only may the blood be transmitted from the pulmonary artery into the pulmonary veins and then into the left ventricle of the heart, but that this is effected by the ceaseless pulsation of the heart and the movements of the lungs in breathing." he then shows how galen explained the uses of the valves and the necessity for their existence, as well as the universal mutual anastomosis of the arteries with the veins, and that the heart is incessantly receiving and expelling blood by and from its ventricles, for which purpose it is furnished with four sets of valves, two for escape and two for inlet and their regulation. harvey then noted a well-known clinical fact, that the more frequent or forcible the pulsations, the more speedily might the body be deprived of its blood during hemorrhage, and that it thus happens that in fainting fits and the like, when the heart beats more languidly, hemorrhages are diminished and arrested. the balance of the book is practically devoted to further demonstration and corroboration of statements already made. a study of this work of harvey's illustrates how much respect even he and his contemporaries still showed for the authority of galen. it shows still further how nearly galen came to the actual truth concerning the circulation. had the latter not adopted too many of the notions of his predecessors concerning the nature of the soul (anima) and the spirits (pneuma) of man, he might himself have anticipated harvey by a thousand years, and by such announcement of a great truth have set forward physiology by an equal period. independent and original as harvey showed himself, he seems to have failed to get away from the notion of the vapors and spiritual nature of the blood which he had inherited from the writings of galen and many others. nevertheless he also alludes to this same blood as alimentive and nutritive. we must not forget, however, that this was years before priestly's discovery of oxygen and that harvey had, like others, no notion of the actual purpose of the lungs, believing that the purification and revivification of the blood was the office of the heart itself. along with its other intrinsic merits harvey's book possesses a clear and logical arrangement, the author first disposing of the errors of antiquity, describing next the behavior of the heart in the living animal, showing its automatic pumplike structure, its alternate contractions and the other phenomena already alluded to, thus piling up facts one upon another in a manner which proved quite irresistible. the only thing that he missed was the ultimate connection between the veins and the arteries, i. e., the capillaries, which it remained for malpighi to discover with the then new and novel microscope, which he did about , showing the movement of the blood cells in the small vessels, and confirming the reality of that ultimate communication which had been held to exist. malpighi discovered the blood corpuscles in , but it remained for leeuwenhoek, of delft, in , by using an improved instrument to demonstrate to all observers the actual movements of the circulating blood in the living animal. one historian has said that with harvey's overthrow of the old teachings regarding the importance of the liver and of the spirits in the heart "fell the four fundamental humors and qualities" while daremberg exclaims: "as in one of the days of the creation, chaos disappeared and light was separated from darkness." it remains now only to briefly consider how harvey's great discovery was received. to quote the words of one writer: "so much care and circumspection in search for truth, so much modesty and firmness in its demonstration, so much clearness and method in the development of his ideas, should have prepossessed everyone in favor of the theory of harvey; on the contrary, it caused a general stupefaction in the medical world and gave rise to great opposition." during the quarter of a century which elapsed after harvey's announcement there probably was not an anatomist nor physiologist of any prominence who did not take active part in the controversy engendered by it; even the philosopher descartes was one of the first adherents of the doctrine of the circulation, which he corroborated by experiments of his own. two years after the appearance of harvey's book appeared an attack, composed in fourteen days by one primerose, a man of scotch descent, born and educated in france, but practising at hull, in which he pronounced the impossibilities of surpassing the ancients or improving on the work of riolan, who already had written in opposition to harvey, and who was the only one to whom the latter vouchsafed an answer. it was riolan who procured a decree of the faculty of paris prohibiting the teaching of harvey's doctrine. it was this same riolan who combated with equal violence and obstinacy the other great discovery of the age, namely,--the circulation of the lymph. one of the earliest and fiercest adversaries of harvey's theory was plempius, of louvaine, who, however, gave way to the force of argument and who finally publicly and voluntarily passed over to the ranks of its defenders in , becoming one of harvey's most enthusiastic advocates. harvey's conduct through the controversy was always of the most dignified character; in fact, he rarely ventured to reply in any way to his adversaries, believing in the ultimate triumph of the truths which he had enunciated. his only noteworthy reply was one addressed to riolan, then professor in the paris faculty and one of the greatest anatomists of his age, to whose opinion great value was always attached. even in debating or arguing against him, harvey always spoke of him with great deference, calling him repeatedly the prince of science. riolan was, however, never converted, though whether he held to his previous position from obstinacy, from excess of respect for the ancients, or from envy and jealousy of his contemporary, is not known. another peculiar spectacle was afforded by one parisunus, who died in , a physician in venice, who, like harvey, had been a pupil of fabricius of aquapendente, who had been stigmatized by riolan as an ignoramus in anatomy, but who joined with others in declaring that he had seen the heart beat when perfectly bloodless, and that no beating of the heart and no sounds were to be heard as harvey had affirmed. with the later and more minute studies into the structure and function of the heart we are not here concerned. the endeavor has been rather to place before you the sentiments, the knowledge and the habits of thought of the men of harvey's time, with the briefest possible epitome of what they knew, or rather of how little they knew, to account for this later slavish adherence to authority by unwillingness to reason independently, or to observe natural phenomena intelligently, still less to experiment with them. it is, then, rather the brief history of an epochal discovery than an effort to trace out its far-reaching consequences that i have endeavored to give. here must close an account which perhaps has been to you tedious, and yet which is really brief, of harvey's life and labors. he lived to see his views generally accepted and to enjoy his own triumph, a pleasure not attained by many great inventors or discoverers. lessons of great importance may be gathered from a more careful study of this great historical epoch, but they must be left to your own powers of reasoning rather than to what i may add here. i commend it to you as a fertile source of inspiration, and a line of research worthy of both admiration and imitation. few men have rendered greater service to the world by the shedding of blood than did harvey, in his innocent and wonderful studies of its natural movement. perhaps it might be said of him that he was the first man to show that "blood will tell." what he made it tell has been thus briefly told to you. i know not how i may better close this account than by quoting the concluding words of his famous book, and especially repeating the lines which he has quoted from some latin author whom i have not been able to identify. his paragraph and his quotation are as follows: "finally, if any use or benefit to this department of the republic of letters should accrue from my labors, it will, perhaps, be allowed that i have not lived idly, and, as the old man in the comedy says: 'for never yet hath anyone attained to such perfection, but that time, and place, and use, have brought addition to his knowledge; or made correction, or admonished him, that he was ignorant of much which he had thought he knew; or led him to reject what he had once esteemed of highest price.'" xiii history of anaesthesia and the introduction of anaesthetics in surgery[ ] [ ] commemorative address delivered at the medical department, university of buffalo, october , . in commemoration of the semi-centennial of the introduction of ether as an anaesthetic agent fifty years ago to-day--that is to say, on the th of october, ,--there occurred an event which marks as distinct a step in human progress as almost any that could be named by the erudite historian. i refer to the first demonstration of the possibility of alleviating pain during surgical operations. had this been the date of a terrible battle, on land or sea, with mutual destruction of thousands of human beings, the date itself would have been signalized in literature and would have been impressed upon the memory of every schoolboy, while the names of the great military murderers who commanded the opposing armies would have been emblasoned upon monuments and the pages of history. but this event was merely the conquest of pain and the alleviation of human suffering, and no one who has ever served his race by contributing to either of these results has been remembered beyond his own generation or outside the circle of his immediate influence. such is the irony of fate. the world erects imposing monuments or builds tombs, like that of napoleon, to the memory of those who have been the greatest destroyers of their race; and so cæsar, hannibal, genghis khan, richard the lion-hearted, gustavus vasa, napoleon and hundreds of other great military murderers have received vastly more attention, because of their race-destroying propensities and abilities, than if they had ever fulfilled fate in any other capacity. but the men like sir spencer wells, who has added his , years of life to the total of human longevity, or like sir joseph lister, who has shown our profession how to conquer that arch enemy of time past, surgical sepsis, or like morton, who first publicly demonstrated how to bring on a safe and temporary condition of insensibility to pain, are men more worthy in our eyes of lasting fame, and much greater heroes of their times, and of all time,--yet are practically unknown to the world at large, to whom they have ministered in such an unmistakable and superior way. this much, then, by way of preface and reason for commemorating in this public way the semi-centennial of this really great event. because the world does scant honor to these men we should be all the more mindful of their services, and all the more insistent upon their public recognition. of all the achievements of the anglo-saxon race, i hold it true that the two greatest and most beneficent were the discovery of ether and the introduction of antiseptic methods,--one of which we owe to an american, the other to a briton. the production of deep sleep and the usual accompanying abolition of pain have been subjects which have ever appeared, in some form, in myth or fable, and to which poets of all times have alluded, usually with poetic license. one of the most popular of these fables connects the famous oracle of apollo, at delphi, whence proceeded mysterious utterances and inchoate sounds, with convulsions, delirium and insensibility upon the part of those who approached it. to what extent there is a basis of fact in this tradition can never be explained, but it is not improbable from what we now know of hypnotic influence. from all time it has been known that many different plants and herbs contained principles which were narcotic, stupefying or intoxicating. these properties have especially been ascribed to the juices of the poppy, the deadly nightshade, henbane, the indian hemp and the mandrágora, which for us now is the true mandrake, whose juice has long been known as possessing soporific influence. ulysses and his companions succumbed to the influence of _nepenthe_; and, nineteen hundred years ago, when crucifixion was a common punishment of malefactors, it was customary to assuage their last hours upon the cross by a draught of vinegar with gall or myrrh, which had real or supposititious narcotic properties. even the prophet amos, seven hundred years before the time of christ, spoke of such a mixture as this as "the wine of the condemned," for he says, in rehearsing the iniquities of israel by which they had incurred the anger of the almighty: "and they lay themselves down upon the clothes laid to pledge by every altar, and they drink the wine of the condemned in the house of their god," (chap. ii, verse ), meaning thereby undoubtedly that these people, in their completely demoralized condition, drank the soporific draught kept for criminals. herodotus mentions a habit of the scythians, who employed a vapor generated from the seed of the hemp for the purpose of producing an intoxication by inhalation. narcotic lotions were also used for bathing the people about to be operated upon. pliny, who perished at the destruction of herculaneum, a. d. , testified to the soporific power of the preparations made from mandrágora upon the faculties of those who drank it. he says: "it is drunk against serpents and before cuttings and puncturings, lest they should be felt." he also describes the indifference to pain produced by drinking a vinous infusion of the seeds of eruca, called by us the rocket, upon criminals about to undergo punishment. dioscorides relates of mandrágora that "some boil down the roots in wine to a third part, and preserve the juice thus procured, and give one cyathus of this to cause the insensibility of those who are about to be cut or cauterized." one of his later commentators also states that wine in which mandrágora roots have been steeped "does bring on sleep and appease pain, so that it is given to those who are to be cut, sawed or burnt in any parts of their body, that they may not perceive pain." apuleius, about a century later than pliny, advised the use of the same preparation. the chinese, in the earlier part of the century, gave patients preparations of hemp, by which they became completely insensible and were operated upon in many ways. this hemp is the cannabis indica which furnishes the _hasheesh_ of the orient and the intoxicating and deliriating _bhang_, about which travelers in the east used to write so much. in barbara, for instance, it was always taken, if possible, by criminals condemned to suffer mutilation or death. according to the testimony of medieval writers, knowledge of these narcotic drugs was practically applied during the last of the crusades, the probability being that the agent principally employed was this same hasheesh. hugo di lucca gave a complete formula for the preparation of the mixture, with which a sponge was to be saturated, dried, and then, when wanted, was to be soaked in warm water, and afterward applied to the nostrils, until he who was to be operated upon had fallen asleep; after which he was aroused with the vapor of vinegar. strangely enough, the numerous means of attaining insensibility, then more or less known to the common people, and especially to criminals and executioners, do not appear to have found favor for use during operations. whether this was due to unpleasant after-effects, or from what reason, we are not informed. only one or two surgical writers beside guy de chauliac ( ) refer in their works to agents for relief of pain, and then almost always to their unpleasant effects, the danger of producing asphyxiation, and the like. ambrose paré wrote that preparations of mandrágora were formerly used to avert pain. in , an english surgeon, bulleyn, affirmed that it was possible to put the patient into an anaesthetic state during the operation of lithotomy, but spoke of it as a "terrible dream." one meisner spoke of a secret remedy used by weiss, about the end of the xvii century, upon augustus ii., king of poland, who produced therewith such perfect insensibility to pain that an amputation of the royal foot was made without suffering, even without royal consent. the advice which the friar gave juliet regarding the distilled liquor which she was to drink, and which should presently throw her into a cold and drowsy humor, although a poetic generality, is shakespeare's recognition of a popular belief. middleton, a tragic writer of shakespeare's day, in his tragedy known as "women beware women," refers in the following terms to anesthesia in surgery: "i'll imitate the pities of old surgeons to this lost limb, who, ere they show their art, cast one asleep; then cut the diseased part." of course, of all the narcotics in use by educated men, opium has been, since its discovery and introduction, the most popular and generally used. surgeons of the last century were accustomed to administer large doses of it shortly before an operation, which, if serious, was rarely performed until the opiate effect was manifested. still, in view of its many unpleasant after-effects, its use was restricted, so far as possible, to extreme cases. baron larrey, noticing the benumbing effect of cold upon wounded soldiers, suggested its introduction for anesthetic purposes, and arnott, of london, systematized the practice, by recommending a freezing mixture of ice and salt to be laid directly upon the part to be cut. other surgeons were accustomed to put their patients into a condition of either alcoholic intoxication or alcoholic stupor. long-continued compression of a part was also practised by some, by which a limb could, as we say, be made to "go to sleep." a few others recommended to produce faintness by excessive bleeding. it was in that the arch-fraud mesmer entered paris and began to initiate people into the mysteries of what he called _animal magnetism_, which was soon named mesmerism, after him. thoroughly degenerate and disreputable as he was, he nevertheless taught people some new truths, which many of them learned to their sorrow, while in the hospitals of france and england severe operations were performed upon patients thrown into a mesmeric trance, and without suffering upon their part. that a scientific study of the mesmeric phenomena has occupied the attention of eminent men in recent years, and that hypnotism is now recognized as an agent often capable of producing insensibility to pain is simply true, as these facts have been turned to the real benefit of man by scientific students rather than by quacks and charlatans. in , sir humphrey davey, being at that time an assistant in the private hospital of dr. beddoes, which was established for treatment of disease by inhalation of gases, and which he called the pneumatic institute, began experimenting with nitrous oxide gas, and noticed its exhilarating and intoxicating effects; also the relief from pain which it afforded in headache and toothache. as the results of his reports, a knowledge of its properties was diffused all over the world, and it was utilized both for amusement and exhibition purposes. davey even wrote as follows of this gas: as nitrous oxide, in its extensive operation, appears capable of destroying physical pain, it may probably be used with advantage during surgical operations in which no great effusion of blood takes place. it is not at all unlikely that colton and wells, to be soon referred to, derived encouragement, if not incentive, from these statements of davey. nevertheless, velpeau, perhaps the greatest french surgeon of his day, wrote in , that "to escape pain in surgical operations is a chimera which we are not permitted to look for in our day." sulphuric ether, as a chemical compound, was known from the xiii century, for reference was made to it by raymond lully. it was first spoken of by the name of ether by godfrey, in the transactions of the london royal society, in , while isaac newton spoke of it as the ethereal spirits of wine. during all of the previous century it was known as a drug, and allusion to its inhalation was made in in a pamphlet, probably by pearson. beddoes, in , stated that "it gives almost immediate relief, both to the oppression and pain in the chest, in cases of pectoral catarrh." in , nysten spoke of inhalation of ether as being common treatment for mitigating pain in colic, and in he described an inhaler for its use. as early as it was often inhaled for experiment or amusement, and so-called "ether frolics" were common in various parts of the country. this was true, particularly for our purpose, of the students of cambridge, and of the common people in georgia in the vicinity of long's home. it probably is for this reason that a host of claimants for the honor of the discovery appeared so soon as the true anesthetic properties of the drug were demonstrated. there probably is every reason to think that, either by accident or design, a condition of greater or less insensibility to pain had been produced between and , by a number of different people, educated and ignorant, but that no one had the originality or the hardihood to push these investigations to the point of determining the real usefulness of ether. this was partly from ignorance, partly from fear, and partly because of the generally accepted impossibility of producing safe insensibility to pain. so, while independent claims sprang up from various sources, made by aspirants for honors in this direction, it is undoubtedly as properly due to morton to credit him with the introduction of this agent as an anesthetic as to credit columbus with the discovery of the new world, in spite of certain evidences that some portions of the american continent had been touched upon by adventurous voyagers before columbus ever saw it. the noun "anesthesia" and the adjective "anesthetic" were suggestions of dr. oliver wendell holmes, who early proposed their use to dr. morton in a letter which is still preserved. he suggests them with becoming modesty, advises dr. morton to consult others before adopting them, but, nevertheless, states that he thinks them apt for that purpose. the word anesthesia, therefore, is just about of the same age as the condition itself, and it, too, deserves commemoration upon this occasion. as one reads the history of anesthesia, which has been written up by a number of different authors, each, for the main part, having some particular object in view, or some particular friend whose claims he wishes especially to advocate, he may find mentioned at least a dozen different names of men who are supposed to have had more or less to do with this eventful discovery. but, for all practical purposes, one may reduce the list of claimants for the honor to four men, each of whose claims i propose to briefly discuss. these men were long, wells, jackson and morton. of these four, two were dentists and two practising physicians, to whom fate seems to have been unkind, as it often is, since three of them at least died a violent or distressing death, while the fourth lived to a ripe old age, harassed at almost every turn by those who sought to decry his reputation or injure his fortunes. crawford w. long was born in danielsville, ga., in . in he graduated from the medical department of the university of pennsylvania. in the part of the country where long settled it was a quite common occurrence to have what were known as "ether frolics" at social gatherings, ether being administered to various persons to the point of exhilaration, which in some instances was practically uncontrollable. long's friends claim that he had often noticed that when the ether effect was pushed to this extent the subjects of the frolic became oblivious to minor injuries, and that these facts, often noticed, suggested to his mind the use of ether in surgical operations. there is good evidence to show that long first administered ether for this purpose on the th of march, , and that on june th he repeated this performance upon the same patient; that in july he amputated a toe for a negro boy, but that the fourth operation was not performed until september of . in a young man, named wilhite, who had helped to put a colored boy to sleep at an ether frolic in , became a student of dr. long's, to whom long related his previous experiences. long had never heard of wilhite's episode, but had only one opportunity, in , to try it, again upon a negro boy. long lived at such a distance from railroad communication ( miles) as to have few advantages, either of practice, observation or access to literature. long made no public mention of his use of ether until , when he published an account of the first use of sulphuric ether by inhalation as an anesthetic in surgical operations, stating that he first read of morton's experiments in an editorial in the _medical examiner_ of december, , and again later; on reading which articles he determined to wait before publishing any account of his own discovery, to see whether anyone else would present a prior claim. no special attention was paid to long's article, as it seemed that he merely desired to place himself on record. there is little, probably no reasonable doubt as to long's priority in the use of ether as an anesthetic, although it is very doubtful if he carried it, at least at first, to its full extent. nevertheless long was an isolated observer, working entirely by himself, having certainly no opportunity and apparently little ambition to announce his discovery, and having no share in the events by which the value of ether was made known to the world. long's strongest advocate was the late dr. marion sims, who made a strong plea for his friend, and yet was not able to successfully establish anything more than has just been stated. as dr. morton's son, dr. w. j. morton, of new york, says, when writing of his father's claim: "men used steam to propel boats before fuller; electricity to convey messages before morse; vaccine virus to avert smallpox before jenner; and ether to annul pain before morton." but these men are not generally credited with their introduction by the world at large and, he argues, neither should long or the other contestants be given the credit due morton himself. in fact, long writes of his own work that the result of his second experiment was such as to make him conclude that ether would only be applicable in cases where its effects could be kept up by constant use; in other words, that the anesthetic state was of such short duration that it was to him most unsatisfactory. sir james paget has summed up the relative claims of our four contestants in an article entitled escape from pain, published in the _nineteenth century_ for december, . he says: "while long waited, and wells turned back, and jackson was thinking, and those to whom they had talked were neither acting nor thinking, morton, the practical man, went to work and worked resolutely. he gave ether successfully in severe surgical operations; he loudly proclaimed his deeds and he compelled mankind to hear him." horace wells was born in hartford, vt., in . in he began to study dentistry in boston, and after completing his studies began to practise in hartford, ct. he was a man of no small ingenuity, and devised many novelties for his work. in december, , he listened to a lecture delivered by dr. colton, who took for his subject nitrous oxide gas, the amusing effects of which he demonstrated to his audience upon a number of persons who visited the platform for that purpose. wells was one of these. wells, moreover, noticed that another young man, who bruised himself while under its influence, said afterward that he had not hurt himself at all. wells then stated to a bystander that he thought that if one took enough of that kind of gas he could have a tooth extracted and not feel it. he at once called upon a neighboring dentist friend and made arrangements to test the anesthetic effects of the gas upon himself the next morning. accordingly colton gave him the gas, and riggs, the friend, extracted the tooth; and wells, returning to consciousness, assured them both that he had not suffered a particle of pain. he began at once to construct an apparatus for its manufacture. dr. marcey, of hartford, then informed wells that while a student at amherst he and others had often inhaled nitrous oxide as well as the vapor of ether, for amusement, and suggested to wells to try ether. after a few trials, however, it was found more difficult to administer, and wells accordingly resolved to adhere to gas alone. this was in , two years after long's obscure experiments, of which, of course, they were ignorant. in , wells visited boston for the purpose of introducing his discovery, and among others called upon his former partner, morton, trying to establish the use of the gas. he soon became discouraged, however, and returned to hartford, resuming his practice. there he continued to use gas for about two years, but failed to secure its introduction into general surgery, owing to prejudice and ignorance on the part of dentists and physicians alike. wells's claims have been advocated by many of his fellow-citizens, and in bushnell park, in hartford, stands a monument erected by the city and the state, dedicated to horace wells, "who discovered anesthesia, november, ." c. t. jackson was born in plymouth, mass., in . he graduated in the harvard medical school in , after which he went abroad, where he remained for several years, made the acquaintance of the most distinguished men, experimented in general science, electricity and magnetism and even devised a telegraphic apparatus, similar to that which morse patented a year later. returning, in , he opened in boston a laboratory for instruction in analytical chemistry, the first of its kind in the country. he also made quite a reputation as a geologist and mineralogist and received official appointments from maine, rhode island, new hampshire and other states. in he discovered and opened up copper and iron mines in the lake superior district. in and he was much aroused by morton's experiments with sulphuric ether, and claimed even that he had suggested the use of ether to morton, claiming also that he had himself been relieved of an acute distress by inhalation of ether vapor, and that it was from reflection on the phenomena presented in his own case that the possibility of its use for relief of pain during surgical operations suggested itself to him. this led to a triangular conflict for the priority of discovery between wells, jackson and morton, each claiming the honor for himself. wells health soon gave way. he went abroad and got recognition from the french institute and the paris academy of sciences, which did not, however, endorse his claim as discoverer nor accept nitrous oxide as an anesthetic. wells returned to find that morton was on the tide of popular favor, the public having endorsed ether as the only reliable anesthetic. his mind became unbalanced, and in a fit of temporary aberration he ended his own life in a prison cell, in new york city in . wells being out of the way, jackson became morton's most violent opponent, and the two indulged in a most bitter fight and unseemly discussion. a few years later, jackson, who, as remarked, had an extensive acquaintance abroad, visited europe and presented his claim to the credit of the discovery of ether before various individuals and learned bodies, and so well did he work upon the french institute as to be recognized as the discoverer of modern anesthesia. a select committee of the house of representatives, to whom in congress referred the matter, announced the following conclusions: "first, that dr. horace wells did not make any discovery of the anesthetic properties of the vapor of ether which he himself considered reliable and which he thought proper to give to the world. that his experiments were confined to nitrous oxide, but did not show it to be an efficient and reliable anesthetic agent.... "second, that dr. charles t. jackson does not appear at any time to have made any discovery in regard to ether which was not in print in great britain some years before. * * * * * "fifth, that the whole agency of dr. jackson in the matter appears to consist entirely in his having made certain suggestions to aid dr. morton to make the discovery." in , jackson's mind gave way, and after seven years of confinement in an asylum he died in , at the age of , having been the recipient of many honors from foreign potentates and learned societies. william t. g. morton was born in charleston, mass., in . after a disastrous experience in business he was sent to baltimore in and began the study of dentistry. in he entered the dental office of horace wells as student and assistant, becoming a partner in . in partnership was dissolved, wells removing to hartford, as before stated. morton, ambitious for a medical degree, entered his name as a student in the office of charles t. jackson, in , and the same year matriculated in the harvard medical school, though he never graduated. having learned through wells of the latter's successful use of nitrous oxide gas, but not knowing how to make it, he sought the advice of dr. jackson, who informed him that its preparation entailed considerable difficulty, and inquired for what purpose he wanted it. on morton's replying that he wished to use it to make patients insensible to pain, jackson suggested the use of sulphuric ether, as marcey had suggested it to wells two years previously, saying that it would produce the same effect and did not require any apparatus. jackson also told morton of the ether frolics common at cambridge among the students. that same evening, september , , morton administered ether to a patient and extracted a tooth for him without pain. the next day he visited the office of a patent lawyer, for the purpose of securing a patent upon the new discovery. this lawyer ascertained that jackson had been intimately connected with its suggestion, and came to the conclusion that a patent could not safely issue to either one independently of the other. but jackson being a member of the state medical society, against whose ethical code it is to patent discoveries that pertain to the welfare of patients, and fearing the censure of his colleagues, agreed at once to assign his right over to morton, receiving in return a per cent. commission upon all that the latter made out of it. morton, as a dentist, having no more compunction then than dentists have now upon the securement of a patent,--in other words, being actuated by no fine ethical scruples,--secured the patent, and then called upon dr. j. mason warren, one of the surgeons in the massachusetts general hospital. warren promised his coöperation and appointed the th of october, , for the first public trial. upon this occasion the clinic room was filled with visitors and students, when morton placed the young man under the influence of his "letheon," as he called it then; after which warren removed a tumor from his neck. the trial was most successful. another took place on the following day, and on november th an amputation and an excision of the jaw were made, both patients being under the influence of letheon and oblivious to pain. at this time the nature of the anesthetic agent was kept a secret, the vapor of ether being disguised by aromatics, so as not to be recognized by anyone present. true to the highest traditions of their craft, the staff of the massachusetts general hospital now met and declined to make further use of a drug whose composition was thus kept secret. it was then that morton revealed the exact nature of it as sulphuric ether, disguised with aromatic oils. in a report made by the commissioner of patents, it was set forth that: "for many years it had been known that the vapor of sulphuric ether, when freely inhaled, would intoxicate as does alcohol when taken into the stomach, but that the former was much more temporary in its effects. but notwithstanding the records of its effects to this extent, which were familiar to so many, no surgeon had ever attempted to substitute it for the palliatives in common use previous to surgical operations. that, in view of these and other considerations, a patent had been granted for the discovery." in an english patent was obtained. morton soon began the attempt to sell office rights, as do the dentists of to-day, while the medical profession was then, as ever, antagonistic to patents, holding them to be subversive of general good. his patent was soon opposed and then generally infringed upon. litigation followed without end, and the government stultified itself by refusing to recognize the validity of the patent issued by itself. and so, without any compensation to the discoverer, ether soon came into general use in this country as abroad. while receiving many congratulations from friends and humanitarians, morton's success aroused the jealousy of some of his professional brethren, among them one dr. flagg, who commenced a terrible onslaught upon the new application of ether and its promoter. by his machinations a meeting of boston dentists was called and a committee of twelve appointed to make a formal protest against anesthesia. this committee published a manifesto in the _boston daily advertiser_, in which all sorts of untoward effects and unpleasant results were attributed to the new anesthetic. this proclamation was spread broadcast, and did morton, for the time, very much harm. equally obstreperous was dr. westcott, connected with the dental college in baltimore. he made fun of morton's "sucking bottles," as his inhalers were dubbed; and in various of the medical and secular journals of the day, bitter, often foolish and absurd, attacks were made. the editors of the _new orleans medical and surgical journal_ said: "that the leading surgeons of boston could be captivated by such an invention as this, heralded to the world under such auspices and upon such evidences of utility and safety as are presented by dr. bigelow, excites our amazement. why, mesmerism, which is repudiated by the savants of boston, has done a thousand times greater wonders, and without any of the dangers here threatened. what shall we see next?" these and similar statements created a very strong prejudice against morton, who, in december, , sent to washington, to a nephew of dr. warren, to endeavor to urge upon the government the advantages of employing ether in the army during the mexican war, then in progress. the chief of the bureau of medicine and surgery reported that the article might be of some service for use in large hospitals, but did not think it expedient for the department to incur any expense by introducing it into the general service; while the acting surgeon-general believed that the highly volatile character of the substance itself made it ill-adapted to the rough usage it would necessarily encounter upon the field of battle, and accordingly declined to recommend its use. in january of , morton demonstrated at the infirmary in washington, before a congressional committee and others, the anesthetic effect of ether, which he continued through a dangerous and protracted surgical operation. this was the result of a challenge to compare the effects of nitrous oxide and those of ether, the advocates of the former not putting in an appearance. the balance of morton's life seems to have been spent in continued jangles. the government, having repudiated its own patent, was repeatedly besought by memorials and through the influence of members of congress to bestow some testimonial upon or make some money return to morton for his discovery. several times he came near a realization of his hopes in this respect, when the action of some of his enemies or the termination of a congressional session, or some other accident, would doom him again to disappointment. the pages of evidence that were printed, the various reports issued through or by government officers, the memorials addressed from various individuals and societies, if all printed together, would make a large volume; but all of these were of no avail. morton spent all his means, as he spent his energies and time, in futile endeavor to get pecuniary recognition of his discovery, but was doomed to disappointment. he seemed alike a victim of unfortunate circumstances and of treachery and animosity upon the part of his opponents. especially did the fight wage warm between him and his friends and jackson. plots to ruin his business were repeatedly hatched and his life was made miserable in many ways. mere temporary sops to wounded vanity and impaired fortune were the honorary degrees and the testimonials that came to him from various institutions of learning and foreign societies. in both morton and jackson received from the french academy prizes valued at , francs each. finally, morton fell into a state of nervous prostration, suffered from anxiety and insomnia, and in a fit of temporary aberration exposed himself in central park, new york, became unconscious, and was taken to st. luke's hospital, dying just as he reached the institution, on the th of july, . in mount auburn cemetery, in boston, there stands a beautiful monument to william t. g. morton, bearing this inscription: "inventor and revealer of anesthetic inhalation, before whom in all time surgery was agony; by whom pain in surgery was averted and annulled; since whom science has control of pain." again, in the public garden in boston there was erected, in , a beautiful monument to the honor of the discoverer of ether, upon whom at that time they could not decide. upon the front are these words: "to commemorate that the inhaling of ether causes insensibility to pain, first proven to the world at the massachusetts general hospital, in boston, october, a. d. ." upon the right side are the words: "'neither shall there be any more pain.'--revelations." upon the left: "'this also cometh forth from the lord of hosts, which is wonderful in counsel and excellent in working.'--isaiah." and upon the other: "in gratitude for the relief of human suffering by the inhaling of ether, a citizen of boston has erected this monument, a. d. . the gift of thomas lee." summing up, then, the claims of our four contestants in the light of a collected history of the merits of each, it would appear that wells first made public use of nitrous oxide gas for limited purposes, but failed to introduce it into general professional use. that long, in an isolated rural practice, a few times used ether, with which he produced probably only partial insensibility to pain, and that he had apparently discontinued its use before learning of morton's researches. that jackson made no claim to the use of the agent on his own part, but simply of having suggested it to morton. and, finally, that morton quickly accepted the suggestion, made careful and scientific use thereof, but especially, and above all other things, first _demonstrated_ to the world at large the capability and the safety of this agent as an absolute, reliable and efficient anesthetic. so, though morton permitted his cupidity to run away with finer ethical considerations, and attached a higher pecuniary than humanitarian value to sulphuric ether, he, nevertheless, must be generally credited with having, to use the modern expression, "promoted" its introduction, and having shown to the world at large what an inestimably valuable therapeutic agent had been added to our resources for the control of pain. the synthetic compound known as chloroform was discovered independently by three different observers between and . these were respectively guthrie, of sackett's harbor, n. y.; soubeiran, of france, and liebig, of germany. the honor of introducing it to the profession as an anesthetic for surgical purposes is universally accorded to james y. simpson, then of edinburgh. yet claim was at one time advanced in favor of surgeon-major furnell, of the madras army medical corps, who in the summer preceding the announcement of simpson's brilliant discovery experimented with what is known as chloric ether, which is not an ether at all, but a solution of chloroform in alcohol. it is said that he found that it would produce the same results as sulphuric ether, with less unpleasant sensations, and suggested its use to coote, a well-known london surgeon. however, such claims as those made in favor of furnell are no more entitled to recognition than are those of wells or long in the matter of the introduction of ether to the public; for although individual observations were favorable to the compound, it never came to public notice on this surmise. sir james y. simpson was born in , took the degree of doctor of medicine in and advanced rapidly in his professional career until, in january, , he was appointed one of her majesty's physicians in scotland. having already obtained a large reputation, particularly in midwifery and gynecology, he directed his special attention toward the use of anesthetics in childbirth, and he had quickly recognized the value of sulphuric ether when introduced the previous year. he sought, however, for a substitute of equal power, having less disagreeable odor and unpleasant after effect. upon inquiry of his friend waldie, master of apothecaries hall of liverpool, if he knew of a substance likely to be of service in this direction, waldie, familiar with the composition of chloric ether, suggested its active principle chloroform; with which simpson experimented, and, upon the th of november, , established its anesthetic properties. these he first made known to the medico-chirurgical society of edinburgh in a paper read november th. three days later a public test was to have been made at the royal infirmary, but simpson, who was to administer the chloroform, being unavoidably detained, the operation was done as heretofore without an anesthetic, and this patient died during the operation. you can readily see that had this occurred under chloroform it would have been ascribed to the new drug, which would then and there have received its death blow. as it was, the first public trial took place two days later and the test was most successful. one would think that such a boon as simpson had here offered to the world would have been gratefully--not to say greedily--accepted by all. simpson's position was such as to give the new anesthetic every advantage that his already great reputation could attach to it, and it became at once the agent in common use in midwifery practice. but the scotch clergy of his day still possessed altogether too much of the old fanatic spirit of the church of the middle ages. one is never allowed to forget, in scanning the history of medicine, how bitterly the church has opposed, until recently, every advance in our science and our art. it was in a. d. , for instance, that the son of one of the venetian doges was married, in venice, to a sister of the emperor of the eastern roman empire. at the marriage feast the princess produced a silver fork and gold spoon, table novelties which excited both amusing and angry comment. but the venetian aristocracy took up with this new table fad, and forks and spoons as substitutes for fingers soon became the fashion. but the puissant church disapproved most strongly even of this arrangement, for priests went so far as to say, "to use forks was to deliberately insult the kind providence which had given to man fingers on each hand." it was this same spirit that led the scotch clergy to attack simpson most vehemently and denounce him from their pulpits as one who violated the moral law, for they said: "is it not ordained in scripture, 'in sorrow shalt thou bring forth children?' and yet this man would introduce a substance calculated to mitigate this sorrow." we of to-day can scarcely imagine the rancor with which these attacks were made for many months. finally, however, these fanatic defenders of the faith were routed by a quotation from the same scriptures in which they claimed to find their authority; for simpson, most adroitly turning upon them with their own weapons, called their attention to the first chapter of genesis, in which an account of eve's creation appears, and reminded them that when eve was formed from the rib of adam, the lord "caused a deep sleep to fall upon" him. so weak was their cause that with this single quotation their opposition subsided and within a week or two the entire scotch clergy was silenced. sir james simpson received from his own government that which was never accorded to morton: that is, due recognition of the great service he had rendered humanity. he died in , and upon his bust, which stands in westminster abbey, are the following words: "to whose genius and beneficence the world owes the blessings derived from the use of chloroform for the relief of suffering." it is scarcely necessary that i delay you now with an account of all of the other ethereal anesthetic agents which have from time to time been advocated since the memorable days to which i have devoted most of my time to-night. two only are at present ever thought of--namely, bichloride of methylene and bromide of ethyl!--and these are used by only a few, though each has its advantages. it is well known that nearly all of the ethers have more or less of anesthetic property, coupled with many dangers and disadvantages. sulphuric ether and chloroform hold the boards to-day as against any and all of their competitors. nitrous oxide gas, as already mentioned, was known to and used by wells, in hartford. with the advent of ether this gas fell at once into disuse, to be revived some fifteen years after the death of wells, mainly through the use of dr. g. q. colton. since this time its use has been quite universal, although confined for the main part to the offices of dentists. its great advantages are ease of administration and rapidity of recovery, making it especially useful for their purposes, while the difficulties attendant upon prolonged anesthesia by it makes it less useful for the surgeon. i will spend no further time upon it nor upon the subject save to do justice to modern anesthesia by a very different method and by means of a very different drug, which is to-day in so common use that we almost forget to mention the man to whom we owe it. i allude to _cocaine_ and its discoverer, koller. cocaine is now such a universally recognized local anesthetic that there is the best of reason for referring to it here--the more so because it affords another opportunity to do honor to a discoverer, who has rendered a most important service to not only our profession, but to the world in general. this principal active constituent of cocoa leaves was discovered about by niemann, and called by him cocaine. it is an alkaloid which combines with various acids in the formation of salts. it has the quality of benumbing raw and mucous surfaces, for which purpose it was applied first in by schroff, and in by moreno. in , van aurap hinted that this property might some day be utilized. karl koller logically concluded from what was known about it that this anesthetic property could be taken advantage of for work about the eye, and made a series of experiments upon the lower animals, by which he established its efficiency and made a brilliant discovery. he reported his experiments to the congress of german oculists, at heidelberg, in . news of this was transmitted with great rapidity, and within a few weeks the substance was used all over the world. its use spread rapidly to other branches of surgery, and cocaine local anesthesia became quickly an accomplished fact. more time was required to point out its disagreeable possibilities, its toxic properties and the like, but it now has an assured and most important place among anesthetic agents, and has been of the greatest use to probably per cent. of the civilized world. to koller is entirely due the credit of establishing its remarkable properties. * * * * * transcriber's notes obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected, but the variations in spelling, punctuation, accents and hyphenation remain as in the original. chapter ix the paragraph originally read: "this recognition of our profession was accorded much more unstintingly nearly two thousand years ago, at a time when it was much less deserved, when cicero wrote (_de natura deorum_) "_homines ad inibus dando._" (men are never more godlike than when giving health to mankind)." the missing line in the latin quotation has been restored. italics are represented thus _italic_. bulfinch's mythology the age of fable the age of chivalry legends of charlemagne by thomas bulfinch complete in one volume [editor's note: the etext contains only the age of fable] publishers' preface no new edition of bulfinch's classic work can be considered complete without some notice of the american scholar to whose wide erudition and painstaking care it stands as a perpetual monument. "the age of fable" has come to be ranked with older books like "pilgrim's progress," "gulliver's travels," "the arabian nights," "robinson crusoe," and five or six other productions of world-wide renown as a work with which every one must claim some acquaintance before his education can be called really complete. many readers of the present edition will probably recall coming in contact with the work as children, and, it may be added, will no doubt discover from a fresh perusal the source of numerous bits of knowledge that have remained stored in their minds since those early years. yet to the majority of this great circle of readers and students the name bulfinch in itself has no significance. thomas bulfinch was a native of boston, mass., where he was born in . his boyhood was spent in that city, and he prepared for college in the boston schools. he finished his scholastic training at harvard college, and after taking his degree was for a period a teacher in his home city. for a long time later in life he was employed as an accountant in the boston merchants' bank. his leisure time he used for further pursuit of the classical studies which he had begun at harvard, and his chief pleasure in life lay in writing out the results of his reading, in simple, condensed form for young or busy readers. the plan he followed in this work, to give it the greatest possible usefulness, is set forth in the author's preface. "age of fable," first edition, ; "the age of chivalry," ; "the boy inventor," ; "legends of charlemagne, or romance of the middle ages," ; "poetry of the age of fable," ; "oregon and eldorado, or romance of the rivers," . in this complete edition of his mythological and legendary lore "the age of fable," "the age of chivalry," and "legends of charlemagne" are included. scrupulous care has been taken to follow the original text of bulfinch, but attention should be called to some additional sections which have been inserted to add to the rounded completeness of the work, and which the publishers believe would meet with the sanction of the author himself, as in no way intruding upon his original plan but simply carrying it out in more complete detail. the section on northern mythology has been enlarged by a retelling of the epic of the "nibelungen lied," together with a summary of wagner's version of the legend in his series of music-dramas. under the head of "hero myths of the british race" have been included outlines of the stories of beowulf, cuchulain, hereward the wake, and robin hood. of the verse extracts which occur throughout the text, thirty or more have been added from literature which has appeared since bulfinch's time, extracts that he would have been likely to quote had he personally supervised the new edition. finally, the index has been thoroughly overhauled and, indeed, remade. all the proper names in the work have been entered, with references to the pages where they occur, and a concise explanation or definition of each has been given. thus what was a mere list of names in the original has been enlarged into a small classical and mythological dictionary, which it is hoped will prove valuable for reference purposes not necessarily connected with "the age of fable." acknowledgments are due the writings of dr. oliver huckel for information on the point of wagner's rendering of the nibelungen legend, and m. i. ebbutt's authoritative volume on "hero myths and legends of the british race," from which much of the information concerning the british heroes has been obtained author's preface if no other knowledge deserves to be called useful but that which helps to enlarge our possessions or to raise our station in society, then mythology has no claim to the appellation. but if that which tends to make us happier and better can be called useful, then we claim that epithet for our subject. for mythology is the handmaid of literature; and literature is one of the best allies of virtue and promoters of happiness. without a knowledge of mythology much of the elegant literature of our own language cannot be understood and appreciated. when byron calls rome "the niobe of nations," or says of venice, "she looks a sea-cybele fresh from ocean," he calls up to the mind of one familiar with our subject, illustrations more vivid and striking than the pencil could furnish, but which are lost to the reader ignorant of mythology. milton abounds in similar allusions. the short poem "comus" contains more than thirty such, and the ode "on the morning of the nativity" half as many. through "paradise lost" they are scattered profusely. this is one reason why we often hear persons by no means illiterate say that they cannot enjoy milton. but were these persons to add to their more solid acquirements the easy learning of this little volume, much of the poetry of milton which has appeared to them "harsh and crabbed" would be found "musical as is apollo's lute." our citations, taken from more than twenty-five poets, from spenser to longfellow, will show how general has been the practice of borrowing illustrations from mythology. the prose writers also avail themselves of the same source of elegant and suggestive illustration. one can hardly take up a number of the "edinburgh" or "quarterly review" without meeting with instances. in macaulay's article on milton there are twenty such. but how is mythology to be taught to one who does not learn it through the medium of the languages of greece and rome? to devote study to a species of learning which relates wholly to false marvels and obsolete faiths is not to be expected of the general reader in a practical age like this. the time even of the young is claimed by so many sciences of facts and things that little can be spared for set treatises on a science of mere fancy. but may not the requisite knowledge of the subject be acquired by reading the ancient poets in translations? we reply, the field is too extensive for a preparatory course; and these very translations require some previous knowledge of the subject to make them intelligible. let any one who doubts it read the first page of the "aeneid," and see what he can make of "the hatred of juno," the "decree of the parcae," the "judgment of paris," and the "honors of ganymede," without this knowledge. shall we be told that answers to such queries may be found in notes, or by a reference to the classical dictionary? we reply, the interruption of one's reading by either process is so annoying that most readers prefer to let an allusion pass unapprehended rather than submit to it. moreover, such sources give us only the dry facts without any of the charm of the original narrative; and what is a poetical myth when stripped of its poetry? the story of ceyx and halcyone, which fills a chapter in our book, occupies but eight lines in the best (smith's) classical dictionary; and so of others. our work is an attempt to solve this problem, by telling the stories of mythology in such a manner as to make them a source of amusement. we have endeavored to tell them correctly, according to the ancient authorities, so that when the reader finds them referred to he may not be at a loss to recognize the reference. thus we hope to teach mythology not as a study, but as a relaxation from study; to give our work the charm of a story-book, yet by means of it to impart a knowledge of an important branch of education. the index at the end will adapt it to the purposes of reference, and make it a classical dictionary for the parlor. most of the classical legends in "stories of gods and heroes" are derived from ovid and virgil. they are not literally translated, for, in the author's opinion, poetry translated into literal prose is very unattractive reading. neither are they in verse, as well for other reasons as from a conviction that to translate faithfully under all the embarrassments of rhyme and measure is impossible. the attempt has been made to tell the stories in prose, preserving so much of the poetry as resides in the thoughts and is separable from the language itself, and omitting those amplifications which are not suited to the altered form. the northern mythological stories are copied with some abridgment from mallet's "northern antiquities." these chapters, with those on oriental and egyptian mythology, seemed necessary to complete the subject, though it is believed these topics have not usually been presented in the same volume with the classical fables. the poetical citations so freely introduced are expected to answer several valuable purposes. they will tend to fix in memory the leading fact of each story, they will help to the attainment of a correct pronunciation of the proper names, and they will enrich the memory with many gems of poetry, some of them such as are most frequently quoted or alluded to in reading and conversation. having chosen mythology as connected with literature for our province, we have endeavored to omit nothing which the reader of elegant literature is likely to find occasion for. such stories and parts of stories as are offensive to pure taste and good morals are not given. but such stories are not often referred to, and if they occasionally should be, the english reader need feel no mortification in confessing his ignorance of them. our work is not for the learned, nor for the theologian, nor for the philosopher, but for the reader of english literature, of either sex, who wishes to comprehend the allusions so frequently made by public speakers, lecturers, essayists, and poets, and those which occur in polite conversation. in the "stories of gods and heroes" the compiler has endeavored to impart the pleasures of classical learning to the english reader, by presenting the stories of pagan mythology in a form adapted to modern taste. in "king arthur and his knights" and "the mabinogeon" the attempt has been made to treat in the same way the stories of the second "age of fable," the age which witnessed the dawn of the several states of modern europe. it is believed that this presentation of a literature which held unrivalled sway over the imaginations of our ancestors, for many centuries, will not be without benefit to the reader, in addition to the amusement it may afford. the tales, though not to be trusted for their facts, are worthy of all credit as pictures of manners; and it is beginning to be held that the manners and modes of thinking of an age are a more important part of its history than the conflicts of its peoples, generally leading to no result. besides this, the literature of romance is a treasure-house of poetical material, to which modern poets frequently resort. the italian poets, dante and ariosto, the english, spenser, scott, and tennyson, and our own longfellow and lowell, are examples of this. these legends are so connected with each other, so consistently adapted to a group of characters strongly individualized in arthur, launcelot, and their compeers, and so lighted up by the fires of imagination and invention, that they seem as well adapted to the poet's purpose as the legends of the greek and roman mythology. and if every well-educated young person is expected to know the story of the golden fleece, why is the quest of the sangreal less worthy of his acquaintance? or if an allusion to the shield of achilles ought not to pass unapprehended, why should one to excalibar, the famous sword of arthur?-- "of arthur, who, to upper light restored, with that terrific sword, which yet he brandishes for future war, shall lift his country's fame above the polar star." [footnote: wordsworth] it is an additional recommendation of our subject, that it tends to cherish in our minds the idea of the source from which we sprung. we are entitled to our full share in the glories and recollections of the land of our forefathers, down to the time of colonization thence. the associations which spring from this source must be fruitful of good influences; among which not the least valuable is the increased enjoyment which such associations afford to the american traveller when he visits england, and sets his foot upon any of her renowned localities. the legends of charlemagne and his peers are necessary to complete the subject. in an age when intellectual darkness enveloped western europe, a constellation of brilliant writers arose in italy. of these, pulci (born in ), boiardo ( ), and ariosto ( ) took for their subjects the romantic fables which had for many ages been transmitted in the lays of bards and the legends of monkish chroniclers. these fables they arranged in order, adorned with the embellishments of fancy, amplified from their own invention, and stamped with immortality. it may safely be asserted that as long as civilization shall endure these productions will retain their place among the most cherished creations of human genius. in "stories of gods and heroes," "king arthur and his knights" and "the mabinogeon" the aim has been to supply to the modern reader such knowledge of the fables of classical and mediaeval literature as is needed to render intelligible the allusions which occur in reading and conversation. the "legends of charlemagne" is intended to carry out the same design. like the earlier portions of the work, it aspires to a higher character than that of a piece of mere amusement. it claims to be useful, in acquainting its readers with the subjects of the productions of the great poets of italy. some knowledge of these is expected of every well-educated young person. in reading these romances, we cannot fail to observe how the primitive inventions have been used, again and again, by successive generations of fabulists. the siren of ulysses is the prototype of the siren of orlando, and the character of circe reappears in alcina. the fountains of love and hatred may be traced to the story of cupid and psyche; and similar effects produced by a magic draught appear in the tale of tristram and isoude, and, substituting a flower for the draught, in shakspeare's "midsummer night's dream." there are many other instances of the same kind which the reader will recognize without our assistance. the sources whence we derive these stories are, first, the italian poets named above; next, the "romans de chevalerie" of the comte de tressan; lastly, certain german collections of popular tales. some chapters have been borrowed from leigh hunt's translations from the italian poets. it seemed unnecessary to do over again what he had already done so well; yet, on the other hand, those stories could not be omitted from the series without leaving it incomplete. thomas bulfinch. contents stories of gods and heroes i. introduction ii. prometheus and pandora iii. apollo and daphne--pyramus and thisbe--cephalus and procris iv. juno and her rivals, io and callisto--diana and actaeon --latona and the rustics v. phaeton vi. midas--baucis and philemon vii. proserpine--glaucus and scylla viii. pygmalion--dryope--venus and adonis--apollo and hyacinthus ix. ceyx and halcyone x. vertumnus and pomona--iphis and anaxarete xi. cupid and psyche xii. cadmus--the myrmidons xiii. nisus and scylla--echo and narcissus--clytie--hero and leander xiv. minerva and arachne--niobe xv. the graeae and gorgons--perseus and medusa--atlas--andromeda xvi. monsters: giants--sphinx--pegasus and chimaera--centaurs --griffin--pygmies xvii. the golden fleece--medea xviii. meleager and atalanta xix. hercules--hebe and ganymede xx. theseus and daedalus--castor and pollux--festivals and games xxi. bacchus and ariadne xxii. the rural deities--the dryads and erisichthon --rhoecus--water deities--camenae--winds xxiii. achelous and hercules--admetus and alcestis--antigone--penelope xxiv. orpheus and eurydice--aristaeus--amphion--linus --thamyris--marsyas--melampus--musaeus xxv. arion--ibycus--simonides--sappho xxvi. endymion--orion--aurora and tithonus--acis and galatea xxvii. the trojan war xxviii. the fall of troy--return of the greeks--orestes and electra xxix. adventures of ulysses--the lotus-eaters--the cyclopes --circe--sirens--scylla and charybdis--calypso xxx. the phaeacians--fate of the suitors xxxi. adventures of aeneas--the harpies--dido--palinurus xxxii. the infernal regions--the sibyl xxxiii. aeneas in italy--camilla--evander--nisus and euryalus --mezentius--turnus xxxiv. pythagoras--egyptian deities--oracles xxxv. origin of mythology--statues of gods and goddesses --poets of mythology xxxvi. monsters (modern)--the phoenix--basilisk--unicorn--salamander xxxvii. eastern mythology--zoroaster--hindu mythology--castes--buddha --the grand lama--prester john xxxviii. northern mythology--valhalla--the valkyrior xxxix. thor's visit to jotunheim xl. the death of baldur--the elves--runic letters--skalds--iceland --teutonic mythology--the nibelungen lied --wagner's nibelungen ring xli. the druids--iona glossary stories of gods and heroes chapter i introduction the religions of ancient greece and rome are extinct. the so- called divinities of olympus have not a single worshipper among living men. they belong now not to the department of theology, but to those of literature and taste. there they still hold their place, and will continue to hold it, for they are too closely connected with the finest productions of poetry and art, both ancient and modern, to pass into oblivion. we propose to tell the stories relating to them which have come down to us from the ancients, and which are alluded to by modern poets, essayists, and orators. our readers may thus at the same time be entertained by the most charming fictions which fancy has ever created, and put in possession of information indispensable to every one who would read with intelligence the elegant literature of his own day. in order to understand these stories, it will be necessary to acquaint ourselves with the ideas of the structure of the universe which prevailed among the greeks--the people from whom the romans, and other nations through them, received their science and religion. the greeks believed the earth to be flat and circular, their own country occupying the middle of it, the central point being either mount olympus, the abode of the gods, or delphi, so famous for its oracle. the circular disk of the earth was crossed from west to east and divided into two equal parts by the sea, as they called the mediterranean, and its continuation the euxine, the only seas with which they were acquainted. around the earth flowed the river ocean, its course being from south to north on the western side of the earth, and in a contrary direction on the eastern side. it flowed in a steady, equable current, unvexed by storm or tempest. the sea, and all the rivers on earth, received their waters from it. the northern portion of the earth was supposed to be inhabited by a happy race named the hyperboreans, dwelling in everlasting bliss and spring beyond the lofty mountains whose caverns were supposed to send forth the piercing blasts of the north wind, which chilled the people of hellas (greece). their country was inaccessible by land or sea. they lived exempt from disease or old age, from toils and warfare. moore has given us the "song of a hyperborean," beginning "i come from a land in the sun-bright deep, where golden gardens glow, where the winds of the north, becalmed in sleep, their conch shells never blow." on the south side of the earth, close to the stream of ocean, dwelt a people happy and virtuous as the hyperboreans. they were named the aethiopians. the gods favored them so highly that they were wont to leave at times their olympian abodes and go to share their sacrifices and banquets. on the western margin of the earth, by the stream of ocean, lay a happy place named the elysian plain, whither mortals favored by the gods were transported without tasting of death, to enjoy an immortality of bliss. this happy region was also called the "fortunate fields," and the "isles of the blessed." we thus see that the greeks of the early ages knew little of any real people except those to the east and south of their own country, or near the coast of the mediterranean. their imagination meantime peopled the western portion of this sea with giants, monsters, and enchantresses; while they placed around the disk of the earth, which they probably regarded as of no great width, nations enjoying the peculiar favor of the gods, and blessed with happiness and longevity. the dawn, the sun, and the moon were supposed to rise out of the ocean, on the eastern side, and to drive through the air, giving light to gods and men. the stars, also, except those forming the wain or bear, and others near them, rose out of and sank into the stream of ocean. there the sun-god embarked in a winged boat, which conveyed him round by the northern part of the earth, back to his place of rising in the east. milton alludes to this in his "comus": "now the gilded car of day his golden axle doth allay in the steep atlantic stream, and the slope sun his upward beam shoots against the dusky pole, pacing towards the other goal of his chamber in the east" the abode of the gods was on the summit of mount olympus, in thessaly. a gate of clouds, kept by the goddesses named the seasons, opened to permit the passage of the celestials to earth, and to receive them on their return. the gods had their separate dwellings; but all, when summoned, repaired to the palace of jupiter, as did also those deities whose usual abode was the earth, the waters, or the underworld. it was also in the great hall of the palace of the olympian king that the gods feasted each day on ambrosia and nectar, their food and drink, the latter being handed round by the lovely goddess hebe. here they conversed of the affairs of heaven and earth; and as they quaffed their nectar, apollo, the god of music, delighted them with the tones of his lyre, to which the muses sang in responsive strains. when the sun was set, the gods retired to sleep in their respective dwellings. the following lines from the "odyssey" will show how homer conceived of olympus: "so saying, minerva, goddess azure-eyed, rose to olympus, the reputed seat eternal of the gods, which never storms disturb, rains drench, or snow invades, but calm the expanse and cloudless shmes with purest day. there the inhabitants divine rejoice forever"--cowper. the robes and other parts of the dress of the goddesses were woven by minerva and the graces and everything of a more solid nature was formed of the various metals. vulcan was architect, smith, armorer, chariot builder, and artist of all work in olympus. he built of brass the houses of the gods; he made for them the golden shoes with which they trod the air or the water, and moved from place to place with the speed of the wind, or even of thought. he also shod with brass the celestial steeds, which whirled the chariots of the gods through the air, or along the surface of the sea. he was able to bestow on his workmanship self-motion, so that the tripods (chairs and tables) could move of themselves in and out of the celestial hall. he even endowed with intelligence the golden handmaidens whom he made to wait on himself. jupiter, or jove (zeus [footnote: the names included in parentheses are the greek, the others being the roman or latin names] ), though called the father of gods and men, had himself a beginning. saturn (cronos) was his father, and rhea (ops) his mother. saturn and rhea were of the race of titans, who were the children of earth and heaven, which sprang from chaos, of which we shall give a further account in our next chapter. there is another cosmogony, or account of the creation, according to which earth, erebus, and love were the first of beings. love (eros) issued from the egg of night, which floated on chaos. by his arrows and torch he pierced and vivified all things, producing life and joy. saturn and rhea were not the only titans. there were others, whose names were oceanus, hyperion, iapetus, and ophion, males; and themis, mnemosyne, eurynome, females. they are spoken of as the elder gods, whose dominion was afterwards transferred to others. saturn yielded to jupiter, oceanus to neptune, hyperion to apollo. hyperion was the father of the sun, moon, and dawn. he is therefore the original sun-god, and is painted with the splendor and beauty which were afterwards bestowed on apollo. "hyperion's curls, the front of jove himself" --shakspeare. ophion and eurynome ruled over olympus till they were dethroned by saturn and rhea. milton alludes to them in "paradise lost." he says the heathens seem to have had some knowledge of the temptation and fall of man. "and fabled how the serpent, whom they called ophion, with eurynome, (the wide- encroaching eve perhaps,) had first the rule of high olympus, thence by saturn driven." the representations given of saturn are not very consistent; for on the one hand his reign is said to have been the golden age of innocence and purity, and on the other he is described as a monster who devoured his children. [footnote: this inconsistency arises from considering the saturn of the romans the same with the grecian deity cronos (time), which, as it brings an end to all things which have had a beginning, may be said to devour its own offspring] jupiter, however, escaped this fate, and when grown up espoused metis (prudence), who administered a draught to saturn which caused him to disgorge his children. jupiter, with his brothers and sisters, now rebelled against their father saturn and his brothers the titans; vanquished them, and imprisoned some of them in tartarus, inflicting other penalties on others. atlas was condemned to bear up the heavens on his shoulders. on the dethronement of saturn, jupiter with his brothers neptune (poseidon) and pluto (dis) divided his dominions. jupiter's portion was the heavens, neptune's the ocean, and pluto's the realms of the dead. earth and olympus were common property. jupiter was king of gods and men. the thunder was his weapon, and he bore a shield called aegis, made for him by vulcan. the eagle was his favorite bird, and bore his thunderbolts. juno (hera) was the wife of jupiter, and queen of the gods. iris, the goddess of the rainbow, was her attendant and messenger. the peacock was her favorite bird. vulcan (hephaestos), the celestial artist, was the son of jupiter and juno. he was born lame, and his mother was so displeased at the sight of him that she flung him out of heaven. other accounts say that jupiter kicked him out for taking part with his mother in a quarrel which occurred between them. vulcan's lameness, according to this account, was the consequence of his fall. he was a whole day falling, and at last alighted in the island of lemnos, which was thenceforth sacred to him. milton alludes to this story in "paradise lost," book i.: "... from morn to noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, a summer's day; and with the setting sun dropped from the zenith, like a falling star, on lemnos, the aegean isle." mars (ares), the god of war, was the son of jupiter and juno. phoebus apollo, the god of archery, prophecy, and music, was the son of jupiter and latona, and brother of diana (artemis). he was god of the sun, as diana, his sister, was the goddess of the moon. venus (aphrodite), the goddess of love and beauty, was the daughter of jupiter and dione. others say that venus sprang from the foam of the sea. the zephyr wafted her along the waves to the isle of cyprus, where she was received and attired by the seasons, and then led to the assembly of the gods. all were charmed with her beauty, and each one demanded her for his wife. jupiter gave her to vulcan, in gratitude for the service he had rendered in forging thunderbolts. so the most beautiful of the goddesses became the wife of the most ill-favored of gods. venus possessed an embroidered girdle called cestus, which had the power of inspiring love. her favorite birds were swans and doves, and the plants sacred to her were the rose and the myrtle. cupid (eros), the god of love, was the son of venus. he was her constant companion; and, armed with bow and arrows, he shot the darts of desire into the bosoms of both gods and men. there was a deity named anteros, who was sometimes represented as the avenger of slighted love, and sometimes as the symbol of reciprocal affection. the following legend is told of him: venus, complaining to themis that her son eros continued always a child, was told by her that it was because he was solitary, and that if he had a brother he would grow apace. anteros was soon afterwards born, and eros immediately was seen to increase rapidly in size and strength. minerva (pallas, athene), the goddess of wisdom, was the offspring of jupiter, without a mother. she sprang forth from his head completely armed. her favorite bird was the owl, and the plant sacred to her the olive. byron, in "childe harold," alludes to the birth of minerva thus: "can tyrants but by tyrants conquered be, and freedom find no champion and no child, such as columbia saw arise, when she sprang forth a pallas, armed and undefiled? or must such minds be nourished in the wild, deep in the unpruned forest,'midst the roar of cataracts, where nursing nature smiled on infant washington? has earth no more such seeds within her breast, or europe no such shore?" mercury (hermes) was the son of jupiter and maia. he presided over commerce, wrestling, and other gymnastic exercises, even over thieving, and everything, in short, which required skill and dexterity. he was the messenger of jupiter, and wore a winged cap and winged shoes. he bore in his hand a rod entwined with two serpents, called the caduceus. mercury is said to have invented the lyre. he found, one day, a tortoise, of which he took the shell, made holes in the opposite edges of it, and drew cords of linen through them, and the instrument was complete. the cords were nine, in honor of the nine muses. mercury gave the lyre to apollo, and received from him in exchange the caduceus. [footnote: from this origin of the instrument, the word "shell" is often used as synonymous with "lyre," and figuratively for music and poetry. thus gray, in his ode on the "progress of poesy," says: "o sovereign of the willing soul, parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, enchanting shell! the sullen cares and frantic passions hear thy soft control."] ceres (demeter) was the daughter of saturn and rhea. she had a daughter named proserpine (persephone), who became the wife of pluto, and queen of the realms of the dead. ceres presided over agriculture. bacchus (dionysus), the god of wine, was the son of jupiter and semele. he represents not only the intoxicating power of wine, but its social and beneficent influences likewise, so that he is viewed as the promoter of civilization, and a lawgiver and lover of peace. the muses were the daughters of jupiter and mnemosyne (memory). they presided over song, and prompted the memory. they were nine in number, to each of whom was assigned the presidence over some particular department of literature, art, or science. calliope was the muse of epic poetry, clio of history, euterpe of lyric poetry, melpomene of tragedy, terpsichore of choral dance and song, erato of love poetry, polyhymnia of sacred poetry, urania of astronomy, thalia of comedy. the graces were goddesses presiding over the banquet, the dance, and all social enjoyments and elegant arts. they were three in number. their names were euphrosyne, aglaia, and thalia. spenser describes the office of the graces thus: "these three on men all gracious gifts bestow which deck the body or adorn the mind, to make them lovely or well-favored show; as comely carriage, entertainment kind, sweet semblance, friendly offices that bind, and all the complements of courtesy; they teach us how to each degree and kind we should ourselves demean, to low, to high, to friends, to foes; which skill men call civility." the fates were also three--clotho, lachesis, and atropos. their office was to spin the thread of human destiny, and they were armed with shears, with which they cut it off when they pleased. they were the daughters of themis (law), who sits by jove on his throne to give him counsel. the erinnyes, or furies, were three goddesses who punished by their secret stings the crimes of those who escaped or defied public justice. the heads of the furies were wreathed with serpents, and their whole appearance was terrific and appalling. their names were alecto, tisiphone, and megaera. they were also called eumenides. nemesis was also an avenging goddess. she represents the righteous anger of the gods, particularly towards the proud and insolent. pan was the god of flocks and shepherds. his favorite residence was in arcadia. the satyrs were deities of the woods and fields. they were conceived to be covered with bristly hair, their heads decorated with short, sprouting horns, and their feet like goats' feet. momus was the god of laughter, and plutus the god of wealth. roman divinities the preceding are grecian divinities, though received also by the romans. those which follow are peculiar to roman mythology: saturn was an ancient italian deity. it was attempted to identify him with the grecian god cronos, and fabled that after his dethronement by jupiter he fled to italy, where he reigned during what was called the golden age. in memory of his beneficent dominion, the feast of saturnalia was held every year in the winter season. then all public business was suspended, declarations of war and criminal executions were postponed, friends made presents to one another and the slaves were indulged with great liberties. a feast was given them at which they sat at table, while their masters served them, to show the natural equality of men, and that all things belonged equally to all, in the reign of saturn. faunus, [footnote: there was also a goddess called fauna, or bona dea.] the grandson of saturn, was worshipped as the god of fields and shepherds, and also as a prophetic god. his name in the plural, fauns, expressed a class of gamesome deities, like the satyrs of the greeks. quirinus was a war god, said to be no other than romulus, the founder of rome, exalted after his death to a place among the gods. bellona, a war goddess. terminus, the god of landmarks. his statue was a rude stone or post, set in the ground to mark the boundaries of fields. pales, the goddess presiding over cattle and pastures. pomona presided over fruit trees. flora, the goddess of flowers. lucina, the goddess of childbirth. vesta (the hestia of the greeks) was a deity presiding over the public and private hearth. a sacred fire, tended by six virgin priestesses called vestals, flamed in her temple. as the safety of the city was held to be connected with its conservation, the neglect of the virgins, if they let it go out, was severely punished, and the fire was rekindled from the rays of the sun. liber is the latin name of bacchus; and mulciber of vulcan. janus was the porter of heaven. he opens the year, the first month being named after him. he is the guardian deity of gates, on which account he is commonly represented with two heads, because every door looks two ways. his temples at rome were numerous. in war time the gates of the principal one were always open. in peace they were closed; but they were shut only once between the reign of numa and that of augustus. the penates were the gods who were supposed to attend to the welfare and prosperity of the family. their name is derived from penus, the pantry, which was sacred to them. every master of a family was the priest to the penates of his own house. the lares, or lars, were also household gods, but differed from the penates in being regarded as the deified spirits of mortals. the family lars were held to be the souls of the ancestors, who watched over and protected their descendants. the words lemur and larva more nearly correspond to our word ghost. the romans believed that every man had his genius, and every woman her juno: that is, a spirit who had given them being, and was regarded as their protector through life. on their birthdays men made offerings to their genius, women to their juno. a modern poet thus alludes to some of the roman gods: "pomona loves the orchard, and liber loves the vine, and pales loves the straw-built shed warm with the breath of kine; and venus loves the whisper of plighted youth and maid, in april's ivory moonlight, beneath the chestnut shade." --macaulay, "prophecy of capys." n.b.--it is to be observed that in proper names the final e and es are to be sounded. thus cybele and penates are words of three syllables. but proserpine and thebes are exceptions, and to be pronounced as english words. in the index at the close of the volume we shall mark the accented syllable in all words which appear to require it. chapter ii prometheus and pandora the creation of the world is a problem naturally fitted to excite the liveliest interest of man, its inhabitant. the ancient pagans, not having the information on the subject which we derive from the pages of scripture, had their own way of telling the story, which is as follows: before earth and sea and heaven were created, all things wore one aspect, to which we give the name of chaos--a confused and shapeless mass, nothing but dead weight, in which, however, slumbered the seeds of things. earth, sea, and air were all mixed up together; so the earth was not solid, the sea was not fluid, and the air was not transparent. god and nature at last interposed, and put an end to this discord, separating earth from sea, and heaven from both. the fiery part, being the lightest, sprang up, and formed the skies; the air was next in weight and place. the earth, being heavier, sank below; and the water took the lowest place, and buoyed up the earth. here some god--it is not known which--gave his good offices in arranging and disposing the earth. he appointed rivers and bays their places, raised mountains, scooped out valleys, distributed woods, fountains, fertile fields, and stony plains. the air being cleared, the stars began to appear, fishes took possession of the sea, birds of the air, and four-footed beasts of the land. but a nobler animal was wanted, and man was made. it is not known whether the creator made him of divine materials, or whether in the earth, so lately separated from heaven, there lurked still some heavenly seeds. prometheus took some of this earth, and kneading it up with water, made man in the image of the gods. he gave him an upright stature, so that while all other animals turn their faces downward, and look to the earth, he raises his to heaven, and gazes on the stars. prometheus was one of the titans, a gigantic race, who inhabited the earth before the creation of man. to him and his brother epimetheus was committed the office of making man, and providing him and all other animals with the faculties necessary for their preservation. epimetheus undertook to do this, and prometheus was to overlook his work, when it was done. epimetheus accordingly proceeded to bestow upon the different animals the various gifts of courage, strength, swiftness, sagacity; wings to one, claws to another, a shelly covering to a third, etc. but when man came to be provided for, who was to be superior to all other animals, epimetheus had been so prodigal of his resources that he had nothing left to bestow upon him. in his perplexity he resorted to his brother prometheus, who, with the aid of minerva, went up to heaven, and lighted his torch at the chariot of the sun, and brought down fire to man. with this gift man was more than a match for all other animals. it enabled him to make weapons wherewith to subdue them; tools with which to cultivate the earth; to warm his dwelling, so as to be comparatively independent of climate; and finally to introduce the arts and to coin money, the means of trade and commerce. woman was not yet made. the story (absurd enough!) is that jupiter made her, and sent her to prometheus and his brother, to punish them for their presumption in stealing fire from heaven; and man, for accepting the gift. the first woman was named pandora. she was made in heaven, every god contributing something to perfect her. venus gave her beauty, mercury persuasion, apollo music, etc. thus equipped, she was conveyed to earth, and presented to epimetheus, who gladly accepted her, though cautioned by his brother to beware of jupiter and his gifts. epimetheus had in his house a jar, in which were kept certain noxious articles, for which, in fitting man for his new abode, he had had no occasion. pandora was seized with an eager curiosity to know what this jar contained; and one day she slipped off the cover and looked in. forthwith there escaped a multitude of plagues for hapless man,--such as gout, rheumatism, and colic for his body, and envy, spite, and revenge for his mind,--and scattered themselves far and wide. pandora hastened to replace the lid! but, alas! the whole contents of the jar had escaped, one thing only excepted, which lay at the bottom, and that was hope. so we see at this day, whatever evils are abroad, hope never entirely leaves us; and while we have that, no amount of other ills can make us completely wretched. another story is that pandora was sent in good faith, by jupiter, to bless man; that she was furnished with a box, containing her marriage presents, into which every god had put some blessing. she opened the box incautiously, and the blessings all escaped, hope only excepted. this story seems more probable than the former; for how could hope, so precious a jewel as it is, have been kept in a jar full of all manner of evils, as in the former statement? the world being thus furnished with inhabitants, the first age was an age of innocence and happiness, called the golden age. truth and right prevailed, though not enforced by law, nor was there any magistrate to threaten or punish. the forest had not yet been robbed of its trees to furnish timbers for vessels, nor had men built fortifications round their towns. there were no such things as swords, spears, or helmets. the earth brought forth all things necessary for man, without his labor in ploughing or sowing. perpetual spring reigned, flowers sprang up without seed, the rivers flowed with milk and wine, and yellow honey distilled from the oaks. then succeeded the silver age, inferior to the golden, but better than that of brass. jupiter shortened the spring, and divided the year into seasons. then, first, men had to endure the extremes of heat and cold, and houses became necessary. caves were the first dwellings, and leafy coverts of the woods, and huts woven of twigs. crops would no longer grow without planting. the farmer was obliged to sow the seed and the toiling ox to draw the plough. next came the brazen age, more savage of temper, and readier to the strife of arms, yet not altogether wicked. the hardest and worst was the iron age. crime burst in like a flood; modesty, truth, and honor fled. in their places came fraud and cunning, violence, and the wicked love of gain. then seamen spread sails to the wind, and the trees were torn from the mountains to serve for keels to ships, and vex the face of ocean. the earth, which till now had been cultivated in common, began to be divided off into possessions. men were not satisfied with what the surface produced, but must dig into its bowels, and draw forth from thence the ores of metals. mischievous iron, and more mischievous gold, were produced. war sprang up, using both as weapons; the guest was not safe in his friend's house; and sons-in-law and fathers-in- law, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, could not trust one another. sons wished their fathers dead, that they might come to the inheritance; family love lay prostrate. the earth was wet with slaughter, and the gods abandoned it, one by one, till astraea alone was left, and finally she also took her departure. [footnote: the goddess of innocence and purity. after leaving earth, she was placed among the stars, where she became the constellation virgo--the virgin. themis (justice) was the mother of astraea. she is represented as holding aloft a pair of scales, in which she weighs the claims of opposing parties. it was a favorite idea of the old poets that these goddesses would one day return, and bring back the golden age. even in a christian hymn, the "messiah" of pope, this idea occurs: "all crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail, returning justice lift aloft her scale, peace o'er the world her olive wand extend, and white-robed innocence from heaven descend." see, also, milton's "hymn on the nativity," stanzas xiv. and xv.] jupiter, seeing this state of things, burned with anger. he summoned the gods to council. they obeyed the call, and took the road to the palace of heaven. the road, which any one may see in a clear night, stretches across the face of the sky, and is called the milky way. along the road stand the palaces of the illustrious gods; the common people of the skies live apart, on either side. jupiter addressed the assembly. he set forth the frightful condition of things on the earth, and closed by announcing his intention to destroy the whole of its inhabitants, and provide a new race, unlike the first, who would be more worthy of life, and much better worshippers of the gods. so saying he took a thunderbolt, and was about to launch it at the world, and destroy it by burning; but recollecting the danger that such a conflagration might set heaven itself on fire, he changed his plan, and resolved to drown it. the north wind, which scatters the clouds, was chained up; the south was sent out, and soon covered all the face of heaven with a cloak of pitchy darkness. the clouds, driven together, resound with a crash; torrents of rain fall; the crops are laid low; the year's labor of the husbandman perishes in an hour. jupiter, not satisfied with his own waters, calls on his brother neptune to aid him with his. he lets loose the rivers, and pours them over the land. at the same time, he heaves the land with an earthquake, and brings in the reflux of the ocean over the shores. flocks, herds, men, and houses are swept away, and temples, with their sacred enclosures, profaned. if any edifice remained standing, it was overwhelmed, and its turrets lay hid beneath the waves. now all was sea, sea without shore. here and there an individual remained on a projecting hilltop, and a few, in boats, pulled the oar where they had lately driven the plough. the fishes swim among the tree-tops; the anchor is let down into a garden. where the graceful lambs played but now, unwieldy sea calves gambol. the wolf swims among the sheep, the yellow lions and tigers struggle in the water. the strength of the wild boar serves him not, nor his swiftness the stag. the birds fall with weary wing into the water, having found no land for a resting-place. those living beings whom the water spared fell a prey to hunger. parnassus alone, of all the mountains, overtopped the waves; and there deucalion, and his wife pyrrha, of the race of prometheus, found refuge--he a just man, and she a faithful worshipper of the gods. jupiter, when he saw none left alive but this pair, and remembered their harmless lives and pious demeanor, ordered the north winds to drive away the clouds, and disclose the skies to earth, and earth to the skies. neptune also directed triton to blow on his shell, and sound a retreat to the waters. the waters obeyed, and the sea returned to its shores, and the rivers to their channels. then deucalion thus addressed pyrrha: "o wife, only surviving woman, joined to me first by the ties of kindred and marriage, and now by a common danger, would that we possessed the power of our ancestor prometheus, and could renew the race as he at first made it! but as we cannot, let us seek yonder temple, and inquire of the gods what remains for us to do." they entered the temple, deformed as it was with slime, and approached the altar, where no fire burned. there they fell prostrate on the earth, and prayed the goddess to inform them how they might retrieve their miserable affairs. the oracle answered, "depart from the temple with head veiled and garments unbound, and cast behind you the bones of your mother." they heard the words with astonishment. pyrrha first broke silence: "we cannot obey; we dare not profane the remains of our parents." they sought the thickest shades of the wood, and revolved the oracle in their minds. at length deucalion spoke: "either my sagacity deceives me, or the command is one we may obey without impiety. the earth is the great parent of all; the stones are her bones; these we may cast behind us; and i think this is what the oracle means. at least, it will do no harm to try." they veiled their faces, unbound their garments, and picked up stones, and cast them behind them. the stones (wonderful to relate) began to grow soft, and assume shape. by degrees, they put on a rude resemblance to the human form, like a block half-finished in the hands of the sculptor. the moisture and slime that were about them became flesh; the stony part became bones; the veins remained veins, retaining their name, only changing their use. those thrown by the hand of the man became men, and those by the woman became women. it was a hard race, and well adapted to labor, as we find ourselves to be at this day, giving plain indications of our origin. the comparison of eve to pandora is too obvious to have escaped milton, who introduces it in book iv. of "paradise lost": "more lovely than pandora, whom the gods endowed with all their gifts; and o, too like in sad event, when to the unwiser son of japhet brought by hermes, she insnared mankind with her fair looks, to be avenged on him who had stole jove's authentic fire." prometheus and epimetheus were sons of iapetus, which milton changes to japhet. prometheus has been a favorite subject with the poets. he is represented as the friend of mankind, who interposed in their behalf when jove was incensed against them, and who taught them civilization and the arts. but as, in so doing, he transgressed the will of jupiter, he drew down on himself the anger of the ruler of gods and men. jupiter had him chained to a rock on mount caucasus, where a vulture preyed on his liver, which was renewed as fast as devoured. this state of torment might have been brought to an end at any time by prometheus, if he had been willing to submit to his oppressor; for he possessed a secret which involved the stability of jove's throne, and if he would have revealed it, he might have been at once taken into favor. but that he disdained to do. he has therefore become the symbol of magnanimous endurance of unmerited suffering, and strength of will resisting oppression. byron and shelley have both treated this theme. the following are byron's lines: "titan! to whose immortal eyes the sufferings of mortality, seen in their sad reality, were not as things that gods despise; what was thy pity's recompense? a silent suffering, and intense; the rock, the vulture, and the chain; all that the proud can feel of pain; the agony they do not show; the suffocating sense of woe. "thy godlike crime was to be kind; to render with thy precepts less the sum of human wretchedness, and strengthen man with his own mind. and, baffled as thou wert from high, still, in thy patient energy in the endurance and repulse of thine impenetrable spirit, which earth and heaven could not convulse, a mighty lesson we inherit." byron also employs the same allusion, in his "ode to napoleon bonaparte": "or, like the thief of fire from heaven, wilt thou withstand the shock? and share with him--the unforgiven-- his vulture and his rock?" chapter iii apollo and daphne--pyramus and thisbe cephalus and procris the slime with which the earth was covered by the waters of the flood produced an excessive fertility, which called forth every variety of production, both bad and good. among the rest, python, an enormous serpent, crept forth, the terror of the people, and lurked in the caves of mount parnassus. apollo slew him with his arrows--weapons which he had not before used against any but feeble animals, hares, wild goats, and such game. in commemoration of this illustrious conquest he instituted the pythian games, in which the victor in feats of strength, swiftness of foot, or in the chariot race was crowned with a wreath of beech leaves; for the laurel was not yet adopted by apollo as his own tree. the famous statue of apollo called the belvedere represents the god after this victory over the serpent python. to this byron alludes in his "childe harold," iv., : "... the lord of the unerring bow, the god of life, and poetry, and light, the sun, in human limbs arrayed, and brow all radiant from his triumph in the fight the shaft has just been shot; the arrow bright with an immortal's vengeance; in his eye and nostril, beautiful disdain, and might and majesty flash their full lightnings by, developing in that one glance the deity." apollo and daphne daphne was apollo's first love. it was not brought about by accident, but by the malice of cupid. apollo saw the boy playing with his bow and arrows; and being himself elated with his recent victory over python, he said to him, "what have you to do with warlike weapons, saucy boy? leave them for hands worthy of them. behold the conquest i have won by means of them over the vast serpent who stretched his poisonous body over acres of the plain! be content with your torch, child, and kindle up your flames, as you call them, where you will, but presume not to meddle with my weapons." venus's boy heard these words, and rejoined, "your arrows may strike all things else, apollo, but mine shall strike you." so saying, he took his stand on a rock of parnassus, and drew from his quiver two arrows of different workmanship, one to excite love, the other to repel it. the former was of gold and sharp pointed, the latter blunt and tipped with lead. with the leaden shaft he struck the nymph daphne, the daughter of the river god peneus, and with the golden one apollo, through the heart. forthwith the god was seized with love for the maiden, and she abhorred the thought of loving. her delight was in woodland sports and in the spoils of the chase. many lovers sought her, but she spurned them all, ranging the woods, and taking no thought of cupid nor of hymen. her father often said to her, "daughter, you owe me a son-in-law; you owe me grandchildren." she, hating the thought of marriage as a crime, with her beautiful face tinged all over with blushes, threw arms around her father's neck, and said, "dearest father, grant me this favor, that i may always remain unmarried, like diana." he consented, but at the same time said, "your own face will forbid it." apollo loved her, and longed to obtain her; and he who gives oracles to all the world was not wise enough to look into his own fortunes. he saw her hair flung loose over her shoulders, and said, "if so charming in disorder, what would it be if arranged?" he saw her eyes bright as stars; he saw her lips, and was not satisfied with only seeing them. he admired her hands and arms, naked to the shoulder, and whatever was hidden from view he imagined more beautiful still. he followed her; she fled, swifter than the wind, and delayed not a moment at his entreaties. "stay," said he, "daughter of peneus; i am not a foe. do not fly me as a lamb flies the wolf, or a dove the hawk. it is for love i pursue you. you make me miserable, for fear you should fall and hurt yourself on these stones, and i should be the cause. pray run slower, and i will follow slower. i am no clown, no rude peasant. jupiter is my father, and i am lord of delphos and tenedos, and know all things, present and future. i am the god of song and the lyre. my arrows fly true to the mark; but, alas! an arrow more fatal than mine has pierced my heart! i am the god of medicine, and know the virtues of all healing plants. alas! i suffer a malady that no balm can cure!" the nymph continued her flight, and left his plea half uttered. and even as she fled she charmed him. the wind blew her garments, and her unbound hair streamed loose behind her. the god grew impatient to find his wooings thrown away, and, sped by cupid, gained upon her in the race. it was like a hound pursuing a hare, with open jaws ready to seize, while the feebler animal darts forward, slipping from the very grasp. so flew the god and the virgin--he on the wings of love, and she on those of fear. the pursuer is the more rapid, however, and gains upon her, and his panting breath blows upon her hair. her strength begins to fail, and, ready to sink, she calls upon her father, the river god: "help me, peneus! open the earth to enclose me, or change my form, which has brought me into this danger!" scarcely had she spoken, when a stiffness seized all her limbs; her bosom began to be enclosed in a tender bark; her hair became leaves; her arms became branches; her foot stuck fast in the ground, as a root; her face, became a tree-top, retaining nothing of its former self but its beauty. apollo stood amazed. he touched the stem, and felt the flesh tremble under the new bark. he embraced the branches, and lavished kisses on the wood. the branches shrank from his lips. "since you cannot be my wife," said he, "you shall assuredly be my tree. i will wear you for my crown; i will decorate with you my harp and my quiver; and when the great roman conquerors lead up the triumphal pomp to the capitol, you shall be woven into wreaths for their brows. and, as eternal youth is mine, you also shall be always green, and your leaf know no decay." the nymph, now changed into a laurel tree, bowed its head in grateful acknowledgment. that apollo should be the god both of music and poetry will not appear strange, but that medicine should also be assigned to his province, may. the poet armstrong, himself a physician, thus accounts for it: "music exalts each joy, allays each grief, expels diseases, softens every pain; and hence the wise of ancient days adored one power of physic, melody, and song." the story of apollo and daphne is often alluded to by the poets. waller applies it to the case of one whose amatory verses, though they did not soften the heart of his mistress, yet won for the poet wide-spread fame: "yet what he sung in his immortal strain, though unsuccessful, was not sung in vain. all but the nymph that should redress his wrong, attend his passion and approve his song. like phoebus thus, acquiring unsought praise, he caught at love and filled his arms with bays." the following stanza from shelley's "adonais" alludes to byron's early quarrel with the reviewers: "the herded wolves, bold only to pursue; the obscene ravens, clamorous o'er the dead; the vultures, to the conqueror's banner true, who feed where desolation first has fed, and whose wings rain contagion: how they fled, when like apollo, from his golden bow, the pythian of the age one arrow sped and smiled! the spoilers tempt no second blow; they fawn on the proud feet that spurn them as they go." pyramus and thisbe pyramus was the handsomest youth, and thisbe the fairest maiden, in all babylonia, where semiramis reigned. their parents occupied adjoining houses; and neighborhood brought the young people together, and acquaintance ripened into love. they would gladly have married, but their parents forbade. one thing, however, they could not forbid--that love should glow with equal ardor in the bosoms of both. they conversed by signs and glances, and the fire burned more intensely for being covered up. in the wall that parted the two houses there was a crack, caused by some fault in the structure. no one had remarked it before, but the lovers discovered it. what will not love discover! it afforded a passage to the voice; and tender messages used to pass backward and forward through the gap. as they stood, pyramus on this side, thisbe on that, their breaths would mingle. "cruel wall," they said, "why do you keep two lovers apart? but we will not be ungrateful. we owe you, we confess, the privilege of transmitting loving words to willing ears." such words they uttered on different sides of the wall; and when night came and they must say farewell, they pressed their lips upon the wall, she on her side, he on his, as they could come no nearer. next morning, when aurora had put out the stars, and the sun had melted the frost from the grass, they met at the accustomed spot. then, after lamenting their hard fate, they agreed, that next night, when all was still, they would slip away from watchful eyes, leave their dwellings and walk out into the fields; and to insure a meeting, repair to a well-known edifice standing without the city's bounds, called the tomb of ninus, and that the one who came first should await the other at the foot of a certain tree. it was a white mulberry tree, and stood near a cool spring. all was agreed on, and they waited impatiently for the sun to go down beneath the waters and night to rise up from them. then cautiously thisbe stole forth, unobserved by the family, her head covered with a veil, made her way to the monument and sat down under the tree. as she sat alone in the dim light of the evening she descried a lioness, her jaws reeking with recent slaughter, approaching the fountain to slake her thirst. thisbe fled at the sight, and sought refuge in the hollow of a rock. as she fled she dropped her veil. the lioness after drinking at the spring turned to retreat to the woods, and seeing the veil on the ground, tossed and rent it with her bloody mouth. pyramus, having been delayed, now approached the place of meeting. he saw in the sand the footsteps of the lion, and the color fled from his cheeks at the sight. presently he found the veil all rent and bloody. "o hapless girl," said he, "i have been the cause of thy death! thou, more worthy of life than i, hast fallen the first victim. i will follow. i am the guilty cause, in tempting thee forth to a place of such peril, and not being myself on the spot to guard thee. come forth, ye lions, from the rocks, and tear this guilty body with your teeth." he took up the veil, carried it with him to the appointed tree, and covered it with kisses and with tears. "my blood also shall stain your texture," said he, and drawing his sword plunged it into his heart. the blood spurted from the wound, and tinged the white mulberries of the tree all red; and sinking into the earth reached the roots, so that the red color mounted through the trunk to the fruit. by this time thisbe, still trembling with fear, yet wishing not to disappoint her lover, stepped cautiously forth, looking anxiously for the youth, eager to tell him the danger she had escaped. when she came to the spot and saw the changed color of the mulberries she doubted whether it was the same place. while she hesitated she saw the form of one struggling in the agonies of death. she started back, a shudder ran through her frame as a ripple on the face of the still water when a sudden breeze sweeps over it. but as soon as she recognized her lover, she screamed and beat her breast, embracing the lifeless body, pouring tears into its wounds, and imprinting kisses on the cold lips. "o pyramus," she cried, "what has done this? answer me, pyramus; it is your own thisbe that speaks. hear me, dearest, and lift that drooping head!" at the name of thisbe pyramus opened his eyes, then closed them again. she saw her veil stained with blood and the scabbard empty of its sword. "thy own hand has slain thee, and for my sake," she said. "i too can be brave for once, and my love is as strong as thine. i will follow thee in death, for i have been the cause; and death which alone could part us shall not prevent my joining thee. and ye, unhappy parents of us both, deny us not our united request. as love and death have joined us, let one tomb contain us. and thou, tree, retain the marks of slaughter. let thy berries still serve for memorials of our blood." so saying she plunged the sword into her breast. her parents ratified her wish, the gods also ratified it. the two bodies were buried in one sepulchre, and the tree ever after brought forth purple berries, as it does to this day. moore, in the "sylph's ball," speaking of davy's safety lamp, is reminded of the wall that separated thisbe and her lover: "o for that lamp's metallic gauze, that curtain of protecting wire, which davy delicately draws around illicit, dangerous fire! the wall he sets 'twixt flame and air, (like that which barred young thisbe's bliss,) through whose small holes this dangerous pair may see each other, but not kiss." in mickle's translation of the "lusiad" occurs the following allusion to the story of pyramus and thisbe, and the metamorphosis of the mulberries. the poet is describing the island of love: "... here each gift pomona's hand bestows in cultured garden, free uncultured flows, the flavor sweeter and the hue more fair than e'er was fostered by the hand of care. the cherry here in shining crimson glows, and stained with lovers' blood, in pendent rows, the mulberries o'erload the bending boughs." if any of our young readers can be so hard-hearted as to enjoy a laugh at the expense of poor pyramus and thisbe, they may find an opportunity by turning to shakspeare's play of the "midsummer night's dream," where it is most amusingly burlesqued. cephalus and procris cephalus was a beautiful youth and fond of manly sports. he would rise before the dawn to pursue the chase. aurora saw him when she first looked forth, fell in love with him, and stole him away. but cephalus was just married to a charming wife whom he devotedly loved. her name was procris. she was a favorite of diana, the goddess of hunting, who had given her a dog which could outrun every rival, and a javelin which would never fail of its mark; and procris gave these presents to her husband. cephalus was so happy in his wife that he resisted all the entreaties of aurora, and she finally dismissed him in displeasure, saying, "go, ungrateful mortal, keep your wife, whom, if i am not much mistaken, you will one day be very sorry you ever saw again." cephalus returned, and was as happy as ever in his wife and his woodland sports. now it happened some angry deity had sent a ravenous fox to annoy the country; and the hunters turned out in great strength to capture it. their efforts were all in vain; no dog could run it down; and at last they came to cephalus to borrow his famous dog, whose name was lelaps. no sooner was the dog let loose than he darted off, quicker than their eye could follow him. if they had not seen his footprints in the sand they would have thought he flew. cephalus and others stood on a hill and saw the race. the fox tried every art; he ran in a circle and turned on his track, the dog close upon him, with open jaws, snapping at his heels, but biting only the air. cephalus was about to use his javelin, when suddenly he saw both dog and game stop instantly. the heavenly powers who had given both were not willing that either should conquer. in the very attitude of life and action they were turned into stone. so lifelike and natural did they look, you would have thought, as you looked at them, that one was going to bark, the other to leap forward. cephalus, though he had lost his dog, still continued to take delight in the chase. he would go out at early morning, ranging the woods and hills unaccompanied by any one, needing no help, for his javelin was a sure weapon in all cases. fatigued with hunting, when the sun got high he would seek a shady nook where a cool stream flowed, and, stretched on the grass, with his garments thrown aside, would enjoy the breeze. sometimes he would say aloud, "come, sweet breeze, come and fan my breast, come and allay the heat that burns me." some one passing by one day heard him talking in this way to the air, and, foolishly believing that he was talking to some maiden, went and told the secret to procris, cephalus's wife. love is credulous. procris, at the sudden shock, fainted away. presently recovering, she said, "it cannot be true; i will not believe it unless i myself am a witness to it." so she waited, with anxious heart, till the next morning, when cephalus went to hunt as usual. then she stole out after him, and concealed herself in the place where the informer directed her. cephalus came as he was wont when tired with sport, and stretched himself on the green bank, saying, "come, sweet breeze, come and fan me; you know how i love you! you make the groves and my solitary rambles delightful." he was running on in this way when he heard, or thought he heard, a sound as of a sob in the bushes. supposing it some wild animal, he threw his javelin at the spot. a cry from his beloved procris told him that the weapon had too surely met its mark. he rushed to the place, and found her bleeding, and with sinking strength endeavoring to draw forth from the wound the javelin, her own gift. cephalus raised her from the earth, strove to stanch the blood, and called her to revive and not to leave him miserable, to reproach himself with her death. she opened her feeble eyes, and forced herself to utter these few words: "i implore you, if you have ever loved me, if i have ever deserved kindness at your hands, my husband, grant me this last request; do not marry that odious breeze!" this disclosed the whole mystery: but alas! what advantage to disclose it now! she died; but her face wore a calm expression, and she looked pityingly and forgivingly on her husband when he made her understand the truth. moore, in his "legendary ballads," has one on cephalus and procris, beginning thus: "a hunter once in a grove reclined, to shun the noon's bright eye, and oft he wooed the wandering wind to cool his brow with its sigh while mute lay even the wild bee's hum, nor breath could stir the aspen's hair, his song was still, 'sweet air, o come!' while echo answered, 'come, sweet air!'" chapter iv juno and her rivals, io and callisto--diana and actaeon--latona and the rustics juno one day perceived it suddenly grow dark, and immediately suspected that her husband had raised a cloud to hide some of his doings that would not bear the light. she brushed away the cloud, and saw her husband on the banks of a glassy river, with a beautiful heifer standing near him. juno suspected the heifer's form concealed some fair nymph of mortal mould--as was, indeed the case; for it was io, the daughter of the river god inachus, whom jupiter had been flirting with, and, when he became aware of the approach of his wife, had changed into that form. juno joined her husband, and noticing the heifer praised its beauty, and asked whose it was, and of what herd. jupiter, to stop questions, replied that it was a fresh creation from the earth. juno asked to have it as a gift. what could jupiter do? he was loath to give his mistress to his wife; yet how refuse so trifling a present as a simple heifer? he could not, without exciting suspicion; so he consented. the goddess was not yet relieved of her suspicions; so she delivered the heifer to argus, to be strictly watched. now argus had a hundred eyes in his head, and never went to sleep with more than two at a time, so that he kept watch of io constantly. he suffered her to feed through the day, and at night tied her up with a vile rope round her neck. she would have stretched out her arms to implore freedom of argus, but she had no arms to stretch out, and her voice was a bellow that frightened even herself. she saw her father and her sisters, went near them, and suffered them to pat her back, and heard them admire her beauty. her father reached her a tuft of grass, and she licked the outstretched hand. she longed to make herself known to him, and would have uttered her wish; but, alas! words were wanting. at length she bethought herself of writing, and inscribed her name-- it was a short one--with her hoof on the sand. inachus recognized it, and discovering that his daughter, whom he had long sought in vain, was hidden under this disguise, mourned over her, and, embracing her white neck, exclaimed, "alas! my daughter, it would have been a less grief to have lost you altogether!" while he thus lamented, argus, observing, came and drove her away, and took his seat on a high bank, from whence he could see all around in every direction. jupiter was troubled at beholding the sufferings of his mistress, and calling mercury told him to go and despatch argus. mercury made haste, put his winged slippers on his feet, and cap on his head, took his sleep-producing wand, and leaped down from the heavenly towers to the earth. there he laid aside his wings, and kept only his wand, with which he presented himself as a shepherd driving his flock. as he strolled on he blew upon his pipes. these were what are called the syrinx or pandean pipes. argus listened with delight, for he had never seen the instrument before. "young man," said he, "come and take a seat by me on this stone. there is no better place for your flocks to graze in than hereabouts, and here is a pleasant shade such as shepherds love." mercury sat down, talked, and told stories till it grew late, and played upon his pipes his most soothing strains, hoping to lull the watchful eyes to sleep, but all in vain; for argus still contrived to keep some of his eyes open though he shut the rest. among other stories, mercury told him how the instrument on which he played was invented. "there was a certain nymph, whose name was syrinx, who was much beloved by the satyrs and spirits of the wood; but she would have none of them, but was a faithful worshipper of diana, and followed the chase. you would have thought it was diana herself, had you seen her in her hunting dress, only that her bow was of horn and diana's of silver. one day, as she was returning from the chase, pan met her, told her just this, and added more of the same sort. she ran away, without stopping to hear his compliments, and he pursued till she came to the bank of the river, where he overtook her, and she had only time to call for help on her friends the water nymphs. they heard and consented. pan threw his arms around what he supposed to be the form of the nymph, and found he embraced only a tuft of reeds! as he breathed a sigh, the air sounded through the reeds, and produced a plaintive melody. the god, charmed with the novelty and with the sweetness of the music, said, 'thus, then, at least, you shall be mine.' and he took some of the reeds, and placing them together, of unequal lengths, side by side, made an instrument which he called syrinx, in honor of the nymph." before mercury had finished his story he saw argus's eyes all asleep. as his head nodded forward on his breast, mercury with one stroke cut his neck through, and tumbled his head down the rocks. o hapless argus! the light of your hundred eyes is quenched at once! juno took them and put them as ornaments on the tail of her peacock, where they remain to this day. but the vengeance of juno was not yet satiated. she sent a gadfly to torment io, who fled over the whole world from its pursuit. she swam through the ionian sea, which derived its name from her, then roamed over the plains of illyria, ascended mount haemus, and crossed the thracian strait, thence named the bosphorus (cow- ford), rambled on through scythia, and the country of the cimmerians, and arrived at last on the banks of the nile. at length jupiter interceded for her, and upon his promising not to pay her any more attentions juno consented to restore her to her form. it was curious to see her gradually recover her former self. the coarse hairs fell from her body, her horns shrank up, her eyes grew narrower, her mouth shorter; hands and fingers came instead of hoofs to her forefeet; in fine there was nothing left of the heifer, except her beauty. at first she was afraid to speak, for fear she should low, but gradually she recovered her confidence and was restored to her father and sisters. in a poem dedicated to leigh hunt, by keats, the following allusion to the story of pan and syrinx occurs: "so did he feel who pulled the bough aside, that we might look into a forest wide, telling us how fair trembling syrinx fled arcadian pan, with such a fearful dread. poor nymph--poor pan--how he did weep to find nought but a lovely sighing of the wind along the reedy stream; a half-heard strain. full of sweet desolation, balmy pain." callisto callisto was another maiden who excited the jealousy of juno, and the goddess changed her into a bear. "i will take away," said she, "that beauty with which you have captivated my husband." down fell callisto on her hands and knees; she tried to stretch out her arms in supplication--they were already beginning to be covered with black hair. her hands grew rounded, became armed with crooked claws, and served for feet; her mouth, which jove used to praise for its beauty, became a horrid pair of jaws; her voice, which if unchanged would have moved the heart to pity, became a growl, more fit to inspire terror. yet her former disposition remained, and with continual groaning, she bemoaned her fate, and stood upright as well as she could, lifting up her paws to beg for mercy, and felt that jove was unkind, though she could not tell him so. ah, how often, afraid to stay in the woods all night alone, she wandered about the neighborhood of her former haunts; how often, frightened by the dogs, did she, so lately a huntress, fly in terror from the hunters! often she fled from the wild beasts, forgetting that she was now a wild beast herself; and, bear as she was, was afraid of the bears. one day a youth espied her as he was hunting. she saw him and recognized him as her own son, now grown a young man. she stopped and felt inclined to embrace him. as she was about to approach, he, alarmed, raised his hunting spear, and was on the point of transfixing her, when jupiter, beholding, arrested the crime, and snatching away both of them, placed them in the heavens as the great and little bear. juno was in a rage to see her rival so set in honor, and hastened to ancient tethys and oceanus, the powers of ocean, and in answer to their inquiries thus told the cause of her coming: "do you ask why i, the queen of the gods, have left the heavenly plains and sought your depths? learn that i am supplanted in heaven--my place is given to another. you will hardly believe me; but look when night darkens the world, and you shall see the two of whom i have so much reason to complain exalted to the heavens, in that part where the circle is the smallest, in the neighborhood of the pole. why should any one hereafter tremble at the thought of offending juno, when such rewards are the consequence of my displeasure? see what i have been able to effect! i forbade her to wear the human form--she is placed among the stars! so do my punishments result-- such is the extent of my power! better that she should have resumed her former shape, as i permitted io to do. perhaps he means to marry her, and put me away! but you, my foster-parents, if you feel for me, and see with displeasure this unworthy treatment of me, show it, i beseech you, by forbidding this guilty couple from coming into your waters." the powers of the ocean assented, and consequently the two constellations of the great and little bear move round and round in heaven, but never sink, as the other stars do, beneath the ocean. milton alludes to the fact that the constellation of the bear never sets, when he says: "let my lamp at midnight hour be seen in some high lonely tower, where i may oft outwatch the bear," etc. and prometheus, in j. r. lowell's poem, says: "one after one the stars have risen and set, sparkling upon the hoar frost of my chain; the bear that prowled all night about the fold of the north-star, hath shrunk into his den, scared by the blithesome footsteps of the dawn." the last star in the tail of the little bear is the pole-star, called also the cynosure. milton says: "straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures while the landscape round it measures. towers and battlements it sees bosomed high in tufted trees, where perhaps some beauty lies the cynosure of neighboring eyes" the reference here is both to the pole-star as the guide of mariners, and to the magnetic attraction of the north he calls it also the "star of arcady," because callisto's boy was named arcas, and they lived in arcadia. in "comus," the brother, benighted in the woods, says: "... some gentle taper! though a rush candle, from the wicker hole of some clay habitation, visit us with thy long levelled rule of streaming light, and thou shalt be our star of arcady, or tyrian cynosure." diana and actaeon thus in two instances we have seen juno's severity to her rivals; now let us learn how a virgin goddess punished an invader of her privacy. it was midday, and the sun stood equally distant from either goal, when young actaeon, son of king cadmus, thus addressed the youths who with him were hunting the stag in the mountains: "friends, our nets and our weapons are wet with the blood of our victims; we have had sport enough for one day, and to-morrow we can renew our labors. now, while phoebus parches the earth, let us put by our implements and indulge ourselves with rest." there was a valley thick enclosed with cypresses and pines, sacred to the huntress queen, diana. in the extremity of the valley was a cave, not adorned with art, but nature had counterfeited art in its construction, for she had turned the arch of its roof with stones as delicately fitted as if by the hand of man. a fountain burst out from one side, whose open basin was bounded by a grassy rim. here the goddess of the woods used to come when weary with hunting and lave her virgin limbs in the sparkling water. one day, having repaired thither with her nymphs, she handed her javelin, her quiver, and her bow to one, her robe to another, while a third unbound the sandals from her feet. then crocale, the most skilful of them, arranged her hair, and nephele, hyale, and the rest drew water in capacious urns. while the goddess was thus employed in the labors of the toilet, behold actaeon, having quitted his companions, and rambling without any especial object, came to the place, led thither by his destiny. as he presented himself at the entrance of the cave, the nymphs, seeing a man, screamed and rushed towards the goddess to hide her with their bodies. but she was taller than the rest and overtopped them all by a head. such a color as tinges the clouds at sunset or at dawn came over the countenance of diana thus taken by surprise. surrounded as she was by her nymphs, she yet turned half away, and sought with a sudden impulse for her arrows. as they were not at hand, she dashed the water into the face of the intruder, adding these words: "now go and tell, if you can, that you have seen diana unapparelled." immediately a pair of branching stag's horns grew out of his head, his neck gained in length, his ears grew sharp-pointed, his hands became feet, his arms long legs, his body was covered with a hairy spotted hide. fear took the place of his former boldness, and the hero fled. he could not but admire his own speed; but when he saw his horns in the water, "ah, wretched me!" he would have said, but no sound followed the effort. he groaned, and tears flowed down the face which had taken the place of his own. yet his consciousness remained. what shall he do?--go home to seek the palace, or lie hid in the woods? the latter he was afraid, the former he was ashamed, to do. while he hesitated the dogs saw him. first melampus, a spartan dog, gave the signal with his bark, then pamphagus, dorceus, lelaps, theron, nape, tigris, and all the rest, rushed after him swifter than the wind. over rocks and cliffs, through mountain gorges that seemed impracticable, he fled and they followed. where he had often chased the stag and cheered on his pack, his pack now chased him, cheered on by his huntsmen. he longed to cry out, "i am actaeon; recognize your master!" but the words came not at his will. the air resounded with the bark of the dogs. presently one fastened on his back, another seized his shoulder. while they held their master, the rest of the pack came up and buried their teeth in his flesh. he groaned,--not in a human voice, yet certainly not in a stag's,--and falling on his knees, raised his eyes, and would have raised his arms in supplication, if he had had them. his friends and fellow-huntsmen cheered on the dogs, and looked everywhere for actaeon, calling on him to join the sport. at the sound of his name he turned his head, and heard them regret that he should be away. he earnestly wished he was. he would have been well pleased to see the exploits of his dogs, but to feel them was too much. they were all around him, rending and tearing; and it was not till they had torn his life out that the anger of diana was satisfied. in shelley's poem "adonais" is the following allusion to the story of actaeon: "'midst others of less note came one frail form, a phantom among men: companionless as the last cloud of an expiring storm, whose thunder is its knell; he, as i guess, had gazed on nature's naked loveliness, actaeon-like, and now he fled astray with feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness; and his own thoughts, along that rugged way, pursued like raging hounds their father and their prey." stanza . the allusion is probably to shelley himself. latona and the rustics some thought the goddess in this instance more severe than was just, while others praised her conduct as strictly consistent with her virgin dignity. as, usual, the recent event brought older ones to mind, and one of the bystanders told this story: "some countrymen of lycia once insulted the goddess latona, but not with impunity. when i was young, my father, who had grown too old for active labors, sent me to lycia to drive thence some choice oxen, and there i saw the very pond and marsh where the wonder happened. near by stood an ancient altar, black with the smoke of sacrifice and almost buried among the reeds. i inquired whose altar it might be, whether of faunus or the naiads, or some god of the neighboring mountain, and one of the country people replied, 'no mountain or river god possesses this altar, but she whom royal juno in her jealousy drove from land to land, denying her any spot of earth whereon to rear her twins. bearing in her arms the infant deities, latona reached this land, weary with her burden and parched with thirst. by chance she espied on the bottom of the valley this pond of clear water, where the country people were at work gathering willows and osiers. the goddess approached, and kneeling on the bank would have slaked her thirst in the cool stream, but the rustics forbade her. 'why do you refuse me water?' said she; 'water is free to all. nature allows no one to claim as property the sunshine, the air, or the water. i come to take my share of the common blessing. yet i ask it of you as a favor. i have no intention of washing my limbs in it, weary though they be, but only to quench my thirst. my mouth is so dry that i can hardly speak. a draught of water would be nectar to me; it would revive me, and i would own myself indebted to you for life itself. let these infants move your pity, who stretch out their little arms as if to plead for me;' and the children, as it happened, were stretching out their arms. "who would not have been moved with these gentle words of the goddess? but these clowns persisted in their rudeness; they even added jeers and threats of violence if she did not leave the place. nor was this all. they waded into the pond and stirred up the mud with their feet, so as to make the water unfit to drink. latona was so angry that she ceased to mind her thirst. she no longer supplicated the clowns, but lifting her hands to heaven exclaimed, 'may they never quit that pool, but pass their lives there!' and it came to pass accordingly. they now live in the water, sometimes totally submerged, then raising their heads above the surface or swimming upon it. sometimes they come out upon the bank, but soon leap back again into the water. they still use their base voices in railing, and though they have the water all to themselves, are not ashamed to croak in the midst of it. their voices are harsh, their throats bloated, their mouths have become stretched by constant railing, their necks have shrunk up and disappeared, and their heads are joined to their bodies. their backs are green, their disproportioned bellies white, and in short they are now frogs, and dwell in the slimy pool." this story explains the allusion in one of milton's sonnets, "on the detraction which followed upon his writing certain treatises." "i did but prompt the age to quit their clogs by the known laws of ancient liberty, when straight a barbarous noise environs me of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs. as when those hinds that were transformed to frogs railed at latona's twin-born progeny, which after held the sun and moon in fee." the persecution which latona experienced from juno is alluded to in the story. the tradition was that the future mother of apollo and diana, flying from the wrath of juno, besought all the islands of the aegean to afford her a place of rest, but all feared too much the potent queen of heaven to assist her rival. delos alone consented to become the birthplace of the future deities. delos was then a floating island; but when latona arrived there, jupiter fastened it with adamantine chains to the bottom of the sea, that it might be a secure resting-place for his beloved. byron alludes to delos in his "don juan": "the isles of greece! the isles of greece! where burning sappho loved and sung, where grew the arts of war and peace, where delos rose and phoebus sprung!" chapter v phaeton phaeton was the son of apollo and the nymph clymene. one day a schoolfellow laughed at the idea of his being the son of the god, and phaeton went in rage and shame and reported it to his mother. "if," said he, "i am indeed of heavenly birth, give me, mother, some proof of it, and establish my claim to the honor." clymene stretched forth her hands towards the skies, and said, "i call to witness the sun which looks down upon us, that i have told you the truth. if i speak falsely, let this be the last time i behold his light. but it needs not much labor to go and inquire for yourself; the land whence the sun rises lies next to ours. go and demand of him whether he will own you as a son." phaeton heard with delight. he travelled to india, which lies directly in the regions of sunrise; and, full of hope and pride, approached the goal whence his parent begins his course. the palace of the sun stood reared aloft on columns, glittering with gold and precious stones, while polished ivory formed the ceilings, and silver the doors. the workmanship surpassed the material; [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] for upon the walls vulcan had represented earth, sea, and skies, with their inhabitants. in the sea were the nymphs, some sporting in the waves, some riding on the backs of fishes, while others sat upon the rocks and dried their sea-green hair. their faces were not all alike, nor yet unlike,--but such as sisters' ought to be. [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] the earth had its towns and forests and rivers and rustic divinities. over all was carved the likeness of the glorious heaven; and on the silver doors the twelve signs of the zodiac, six on each side. clymene's son advanced up the steep ascent, and entered the halls of his disputed father. he approached the paternal presence, but stopped at a distance, for the light was more than he could bear. phoebus, arrayed in a purple vesture, sat on a throne, which glittered as with diamonds. on his right hand and his left stood the day, the month, and the year, and, at regular intervals, the hours. spring stood with her head crowned with flowers, and summer, with garment cast aside, and a garland formed of spears of ripened grain, and autumn, with his feet stained with grape-juice, and icy winter, with his hair stiffened with hoar frost. surrounded by these attendants, the sun, with the eye that sees everything, beheld the youth dazzled with the novelty and splendor of the scene, and inquired the purpose of his errand. the youth replied, "o light of the boundless world, phoebus, my father,--if you permit me to use that name,--give me some proof, i beseech you, by which i may be known as yours." he ceased; and his father, laying aside the beams that shone all around his head, bade him approach, and embracing him, said, "my son, you deserve not to be disowned, and i confirm what your mother has told you. to put an end to your doubts, ask what you will, the gift shall be yours. i call to witness that dreadful lake, which i never saw, but which we gods swear by in our most solemn engagements." phaeton immediately asked to be permitted for one day to drive the chariot of the sun. the father repented of his promise; thrice and four times he shook his radiant head in warning. "i have spoken rashly," said he; "this only request i would fain deny. i beg you to withdraw it. it is not a safe boon, nor one, my phaeton, suited to your youth and strength. your lot is mortal, and you ask what is beyond a mortal's power. in your ignorance you aspire to do that which not even the gods themselves may do. none but myself may drive the flaming car of day. not even jupiter, whose terrible right arm hurls the thunderbolts. the first part of the way is steep, and such as the horses when fresh in the morning can hardly climb; the middle is high up in the heavens, whence i myself can scarcely, without alarm, look down and behold the earth and sea stretched beneath me. the last part of the road descends rapidly, and requires most careful driving. tethys, who is waiting to receive me, often trembles for me lest i should fall headlong. add to all this, the heaven is all the time turning round and carrying the stars with it. i have to be perpetually on my guard lest that movement, which sweeps everything else along, should hurry me also away. suppose i should lend you the chariot, what would you do? could you keep your course while the sphere was revolving under you? perhaps you think that there are forests and cities, the abodes of gods, and palaces and temples on the way. on the contrary, the road is through the midst of frightful monsters. you pass by the horns of the bull, in front of the archer, and near the lion's jaws, and where the scorpion stretches its arms in one direction and the crab in another. nor will you find it easy to guide those horses, with their breasts full of fire that they breathe forth from their mouths and nostrils. i can scarcely govern them myself, when they are unruly and resist the reins. beware, my son, lest i be the donor of a fatal gift; recall your request while yet you may. do you ask me for a proof that you are sprung from my blood? i give you a proof in my fears for you. look at my face--i would that you could look into my breast, you would there see all a father's anxiety. finally," he continued, "look round the world and choose whatever you will of what earth or sea contains most precious--ask it and fear no refusal. this only i pray you not to urge. it is not honor, but destruction you seek. why do you hang round my neck and still entreat me? you shall have it if you persist,--the oath is sworn and must be kept,--but i beg you to choose more wisely." he ended; but the youth rejected all admonition and held to his demand. so, having resisted as long as he could, phoebus at last led the way to where stood the lofty chariot. it was of gold, the gift of vulcan; the axle was of gold, the pole and wheels of gold, the spokes of silver. along the seat were rows of chrysolites and diamonds which reflected all around the brightness of the sun. while the daring youth, gazed in admiration, the early dawn threw open the purple doors of the east, and showed the pathway strewn with roses. the stars withdrew, marshalled by the day-star, which last of all retired also. the father, when he saw the earth beginning to glow, and the moon preparing to retire, ordered the hours to harness up the horses. they obeyed, and led forth from the lofty stalls the steeds full fed with ambrosia, and attached the reins. then the father bathed the face of his son with a powerful unguent, and made him capable of enduring the brightness of the flame. he set the rays on his head, and, with a foreboding sigh, said, "if, my son, you will in this at least heed my advice, spare the whip and hold tight the reins. they go fast enough of their own accord; the labor is to hold them in. you are not to take the straight road directly between the five circles, but turn off to the left. keep within the limit of the middle zone, and avoid the northern and the southern alike. you will see the marks of the wheels, and they will serve to guide you. and, that the skies and the earth may each receive their due share of heat, go not too high, or you will burn the heavenly dwellings, nor too low, or you will set the earth on fire; the middle course is safest and best. [footnote: see proverbial expressions] and now i leave you to your chance, which i hope will plan better for you than you have done for yourself. night is passing out of the western gates and we can delay no longer. take the reins; but if at last your heart fails you, and you will benefit by my advice, stay where you are in safety, and suffer me to light and warm the earth." the agile youth sprang into the chariot, stood erect, and grasped the reins with delight, pouring out thanks to his reluctant parent. meanwhile the horses fill the air with their snortings and fiery breath, and stamp the ground impatient. now the bars are let down, and the boundless plain of the universe lies open before them. they dart forward and cleave the opposing clouds, and outrun the morning breezes which started from the same eastern goal. the steeds soon perceived that the load they drew was lighter than usual; and as a ship without ballast is tossed hither and thither on the sea, so the chariot, without its accustomed weight, was dashed about as if empty. they rush headlong and leave the travelled road. he is alarmed, and knows not how to guide them; nor, if he knew, has he the power. then, for the first time, the great and little bear were scorched with heat, and would fain, if it were possible, have plunged into the water; and the serpent which lies coiled up round the north pole, torpid and harmless, grew warm, and with warmth felt its rage revive. bootes, they say, fled away, though encumbered with his plough, and all unused to rapid motion. when hapless phaeton looked down upon the earth, now spreading in vast extent beneath him, he grew pale and his knees shook with terror. in spite of the glare all around him, the sight of his eyes grew dim. he wished he had never touched his father's horses, never learned his parentage, never prevailed in his request. he is borne along like a vessel that flies before a tempest, when the pilot can do no more and betakes himself to his prayers. what shall he do? much of the heavenly road is left behind, but more remains before. he turns his eyes from one direction to the other; now to the goal whence he began his course, now to the realms of sunset which he is not destined to reach. he loses his self- command, and knows not what to do,--whether to draw tight the reins or throw them loose; he forgets the names of the horses. he sees with terror the monstrous forms scattered over the surface of heaven. here the scorpion extended his two great arms, with his tail and crooked claws stretching over two signs of the zodiac. when the boy beheld him, reeking with poison and menacing with his fangs, his courage failed, and the reins fell from his hands. the horses, when they felt them loose on their backs, dashed headlong, and unrestrained went off into unknown regions of the sky, in among the stars, hurling the chariot over pathless places, now up in high heaven, now down almost to the earth. the moon saw with astonishment her brother's chariot running beneath her own. the clouds begin to smoke, and the mountain tops take fire; the fields are parched with heat, the plants wither, the trees with their leafy branches burn, the harvest is ablaze! but these are small things. great cities perished, with their walls and towers; whole nations with their people were consumed to ashes! the forest-clad mountains burned, athos and taurus and tmolus and oete; ida, once celebrated for fountains, but now all dry; the muses' mountain helicon, and haemus; aetna, with fires within and without, and parnassus, with his two peaks, and rhodope, forced at last to part with his snowy crown. her cold climate was no protection to scythia, caucasus burned, and ossa and pindus, and, greater than both, olympus; the alps high in air, and the apennines crowned with clouds. then phaeton beheld the world on fire, and felt the heat intolerable. the air he breathed was like the air of a furnace and full of burning ashes, and the smoke was of a pitchy darkness. he dashed forward he knew not whither. then, it is believed, the people of aethiopia became black by the blood being forced so suddenly to the surface, and the libyan desert was dried up to the condition in which it remains to this day. the nymphs of the fountains, with dishevelled hair, mourned their waters, nor were the rivers safe beneath their banks: tanais smoked, and caicus, xanthus, and meander; babylonian euphrates and ganges, tagus with golden sands, and cayster where the swans resort. nile fled away and hid his head in the desert, and there it still remains concealed. where he used to discharge his waters through seven mouths into the sea, there seven dry channels alone remained. the earth cracked open, and through the chinks light broke into tartarus, and frightened the king of shadows and his queen. the sea shrank up. where before was water, it became a dry plain; and the mountains that lie beneath the waves lifted up their heads and became islands. the fishes sought the lowest depths, and the dolphins no longer ventured as usual to sport on the surface. even nereus, and his wife doris, with the nereids, their daughters, sought the deepest caves for refuge. thrice neptune essayed to raise his head above the surface, and thrice was driven back by the heat. earth, surrounded as she was by waters, yet with head and shoulders bare, screening her face with her hand, looked up to heaven, and with a husky voice called on jupiter: "o ruler of the gods, if i have deserved this treatment, and it is your will that i perish with fire, why withhold your thunderbolts? let me at least fall by your hand. is this the reward of my fertility, of my obedient service? is it for this that i have supplied herbage for cattle, and fruits for men, and frankincense for your altars? but if i am unworthy of regard, what has my brother ocean done to deserve such a fate? if neither of us can excite your pity, think, i pray you, of your own heaven, and behold how both the poles are smoking which sustain your palace, which must fall if they be destroyed. atlas faints, and scarce holds up his burden. if sea, earth, and heaven perish, we fall into ancient chaos. save what yet remains to us from the devouring flame. o, take thought for our deliverance in this awful moment!" thus spoke earth, and overcome with heat and thirst, could say no more. then jupiter omnipotent, calling to witness all the gods, including him who had lent the chariot, and showing them that all was lost unless speedy remedy were applied, mounted the lofty tower from whence he diffuses clouds over the earth, and hurls the forked lightnings. but at that time not a cloud was to be found to interpose for a screen to earth, nor was a shower remaining unexhausted. he thundered, and brandishing a lightning bolt in his right hand launched it against the charioteer, and struck him at the same moment from his seat and from existence! phaeton, with his hair on fire, fell headlong, like a shooting star which marks the heavens with its brightness as it falls, and eridanus, the great river, received him and cooled his burning frame. the italian naiads reared a tomb for him, and inscribed these words upon the stone: "driver of phoebus' chariot phaeton, struck by jove's thunder, rests beneath this stone. he could not rule his father's car of fire, yet was it much so nobly to aspire" [footnote: see proverbial expressions] his sisters, the heliades, as they lamented his fate, were turned into poplar trees, on the banks of the river, and their tears, which continued to flow, became amber as they dropped into the stream. milman, in his poem of "samor," makes the following allusion to phaeton's story: "as when the palsied universe aghast lay mute and still, when drove, so poets sing, the sun-born youth devious through heaven's affrighted signs his sire's ill-granted chariot. him the thunderer hurled from th' empyrean headlong to the gulf of the half-parched eridanus, where weep even now the sister trees their amber tears o'er phaeton untimely dead" in the beautiful lines of walter savage landor, descriptive of the sea-shell, there is an allusion to the sun's palace and chariot. the water-nymph says: "i have sinuous shells of pearly hue within, and things that lustre have imbibed in the sun's palace porch, where when unyoked his chariot wheel stands midway on the wave. shake one and it awakens; then apply its polished lip to your attentive ear, and it remembers its august abodes, and murmurs as the ocean murmurs there." --gebir, book i. chapter vi midas--baucis and philemon bacchus, on a certain occasion, found his old schoolmaster and foster-father, silenus, missing. the old man had been drinking, and in that state wandered away, and was found by some peasants, who carried him to their king, midas. midas recognized him, and treated him hospitably, entertaining him for ten days and nights with an unceasing round of jollity. on the eleventh day he brought silenus back, and restored him in safety to his pupil. whereupon bacchus offered midas his choice of a reward, whatever he might wish. he asked that whatever he might touch should be changed into gold. bacchus consented, though sorry that he had not made a better choice. midas went his way, rejoicing in his new-acquired power, which he hastened to put to the test. he could scarce believe his eyes when he found a twig of an oak, which he plucked from the branch, become gold in his hand. he took up a stone; it changed to gold. he touched a sod; it did the same. he took an apple from the tree; you would have thought he had robbed the garden of the hesperides. his joy knew no bounds, and as soon as he got home, he ordered the servants to set a splendid repast on the table. then he found to his dismay that whether he touched bread, it hardened in his hand; or put a morsel to his lips, it defied his teeth. he took a glass of wine, but it flowed down his throat like melted gold. in consternation at the unprecedented affliction, he strove to divest himself of his power; he hated the gift he had lately coveted. but all in vain; starvation seemed to await him. he raised his arms, all shining with gold, in prayer to bacchus, begging to be delivered from his glittering destruction. bacchus, merciful deity, heard and consented. "go," said he, "to the river pactolus, trace the stream to its fountain-head, there plunge your head and body in, and wash away your fault and its punishment." he did so, and scarce had he touched the waters before the gold- creating power passed into them, and the river-sands became changed into gold, as they remain to this day. thenceforth midas, hating wealth and splendor, dwelt in the country, and became a worshipper of pan, the god of the fields. on a certain occasion pan had the temerity to compare his music with that of apollo, and to challenge the god of the lyre to a trial of skill. the challenge was accepted, and tmolus, the mountain god, was chosen umpire. the senior took his seat, and cleared away the trees from his ears to listen. at a given signal pan blew on his pipes, and with his rustic melody gave great satisfaction to himself and his faithful follower midas, who happened to be present. then tmolus turned his head toward the sun-god, and all his trees turned with him. apollo rose, his brow wreathed with parnassian laurel, while his robe of tyrian purple swept the ground. in his left hand he held the lyre, and with his right hand struck the strings. ravished with the harmony, tmolus at once awarded the victory to the god of the lyre, and all but midas acquiesced in the judgment. he dissented, and questioned the justice of the award. apollo would not suffer such a depraved pair of ears any longer to wear the human form, but caused them to increase in length, grow hairy, within and without, and movable on their roots; in short, to be on the perfect pattern of those of an ass. mortified enough was king midas at this mishap; but he consoled himself with the thought that it was possible to hide his misfortune, which he attempted to do by means of an ample turban or head-dress. but his hair-dresser of course knew the secret. he was charged not to mention it, and threatened with dire punishment if he presumed to disobey. but he found it too much for his discretion to keep such a secret; so he went out into the meadow, dug a hole in the ground, and stooping down, whispered the story, and covered it up. before long a thick bed of reeds sprang up in the meadow, and as soon as it had gained its growth, began whispering the story, and has continued to do so, from that day to this, every time a breeze passes over the place. the story of king midas has been told by others with some variations. dryden, in the "wife of bath's tale," makes midas's queen the betrayer of the secret: "this midas knew, and durst communicate to none but to his wife his ears of state." midas was king of phrygia. he was the son of gordius, a poor countryman, who was taken by the people and made king, in obedience to the command of the oracle, which had said that their future king should come in a wagon. while the people were deliberating, gordius with his wife and son came driving his wagon into the public square. gordius, being made king, dedicated his wagon to the deity of the oracle, and tied it up in its place with a fast knot. this was the celebrated gordian knot, which, in after times it was said, whoever should untie should become lord of all asia. many tried to untie it, but none succeeded, till alexander the great, in his career of conquest, came to phrygia. he tried his skill with as ill success as others, till growing impatient he drew his sword and cut the knot. when he afterwards succeeded in subjecting all asia to his sway, people began to think that he had complied with the terms of the oracle according to its true meaning. baucis and philemon on a certain hill in phrygia stands a linden tree and an oak, enclosed by a low wall. not far from the spot is a marsh, formerly good habitable land, but now indented with pools, the resort of fen-birds and cormorants. once on a time jupiter, in, human shape, visited this country, and with him his son mercury (he of the caduceus), without his wings. they presented themselves, as weary travellers, at many a door, seeking rest and shelter, but found all closed, for it was late, and the inhospitable inhabitants would not rouse themselves to open for their reception. at last a humble mansion received them, a small thatched cottage, where baucis, a pious old dame, and her husband philemon, united when young, had grown old together. not ashamed of their poverty, they made it endurable by moderate desires and kind dispositions. one need not look there for master or for servant; they two were the whole household, master and servant alike. when the two heavenly guests crossed the humble threshold, and bowed their heads to pass under the low door, the old man placed a seat, on which baucis, bustling and attentive, spread a cloth, and begged them to sit down. then she raked out the coals from the ashes, and kindled up a fire, fed it with leaves and dry bark, and with her scanty breath blew it into a flame. she brought out of a corner split sticks and dry branches, broke them up, and placed them under the small kettle. her husband collected some pot-herbs in the garden, and she shred them from the stalks, and prepared them for the pot. he reached down with a forked stick a flitch of bacon hanging in the chimney, cut a small piece, and put it in the pot to boil with the herbs, setting away the rest for another time. a beechen bowl was filled with warm water, that their guests might wash. while all was doing, they beguiled the time with conversation. on the bench designed for the guests was laid a cushion stuffed with sea-weed; and a cloth, only produced on great occasions, but ancient and coarse enough, was spread over that. the old lady, with her apron on, with trembling hand set the table. one leg was shorter than the rest, but a piece of slate put under restored the level. when fixed, she rubbed the table down with some sweet- smelling herbs. upon it she set some of chaste minerva's olives, some cornel berries preserved in vinegar, and added radishes and cheese, with eggs lightly cooked in the ashes. all were served in earthen dishes, and an earthenware pitcher, with wooden cups, stood beside them. when all was ready, the stew, smoking hot, was set on the table. some wine, not of the oldest, was added; and for dessert, apples and wild honey; and over and above all, friendly faces, and simple but hearty welcome. now while the repast proceeded, the old folks were astonished to see that the wine, as fast as it was poured out, renewed itself in the pitcher, of its own accord. struck with terror, baucis and philemon recognized their heavenly guests, fell on their knees, and with clasped hands implored forgiveness for their poor entertainment. there was an old goose, which they kept as the guardian of their humble cottage; and they bethought them to make this a sacrifice in honor of their guests. but the goose, too nimble, with the aid of feet and wings, for the old folks, eluded their pursuit, and at last took shelter between the gods themselves. they forbade it to be slain; and spoke in these words: "we are gods. this inhospitable village shall pay the penalty of its impiety; you alone shall go free from the chastisement. quit your house, and come with us to the top of yonder hill." they hastened to obey, and, staff in hand, labored up the steep ascent. they had reached to within an arrow's flight of the top, when turning their eyes below, they beheld all the country sunk in a lake, only their own house left standing. while they gazed with wonder at the sight, and lamented the fate of their neighbors, that old house of theirs was changed into a temple. columns took the place of the corner posts, the thatch grew yellow and appeared a gilded roof, the floors became marble, the doors were enriched with carving and ornaments of gold. then spoke jupiter in benignant accents: "excellent old man, and woman worthy of such a husband, speak, tell us your wishes; what favor have you to ask of us?" philemon took counsel with baucis a few moments; then declared to the gods their united wish. "we ask to be priests and guardians of this your temple; and since here we have passed our lives in love and concord, we wish that one and the same hour may take us both from life, that i may not live to see her grave, nor be laid in my own by her." their prayer was granted. they were the keepers of the temple as long as they lived. when grown very old, as they stood one day before the steps of the sacred edifice, and were telling the story of the place, baucis saw philemon begin to put forth leaves, and old philemon saw baucis changing in like manner. and now a leafy crown had grown over their heads, while exchanging parting words, as long as they could speak. "farewell, dear spouse," they said, together, and at the same moment the bark closed over their mouths. the tyanean shepherd still shows the two trees, standing side by side, made out of the two good old people. the story of baucis and philemon has been imitated by swift, in a burlesque style, the actors in the change being two wandering saints, and the house being changed into a church, of which philemon is made the parson. the following may serve as a specimen: "they scarce had spoke, when, fair and soft, the roof began to mount aloft; aloft rose every beam and rafter; the heavy wall climbed slowly after. the chimney widened and grew higher, became a steeple with a spire. the kettle to the top was hoist. and there stood fastened to a joist, but with the upside down, to show its inclination for below; in vain, for a superior force, applied at bottom, stops its course; doomed ever in suspense to dwell, 'tis now no kettle, but a bell. a wooden jack, which had almost lost by disuse the art to roast, a sudden alteration feels increased by new intestine wheels; and, what exalts the wonder more. the number made the motion slower; the flier, though't had leaden feet, turned round so quick you scarce could see't; but slackened by some secret power, now hardly moves an inch an hour. the jack and chimney, near allied, had never left each other's side: the chimney to a steeple grown, the jack would not be left alone; but up against the steeple reared, became a clock, and still adhered; and still its love to household cares by a shrill voice at noon declares, warning the cook-maid not to burn that roast meat which it cannot turn; the groaning chair began to crawl, like a huge snail, along the wall; there stuck aloft in public view, and with small change, a pulpit grew. a bedstead of the antique mode, compact of timber many a load, such as our ancestors did use, was metamorphosed into pews, which still their ancient nature keep by lodging folks disposed to sleep." chapter vii proserpine--glaucus and scylla when jupiter and his brothers had defeated the titans and banished them to tartarus, a new enemy rose up against the gods. they were the giants typhon, briareus, enceladus, and others. some of them had a hundred arms, others breathed out fire. they were finally subdued and buried alive under mount aetna, where they still sometimes struggle to get loose, and shake the whole island with earthquakes. their breath comes up through the mountain, and is what men call the eruption of the volcano. the fall of these monsters shook the earth, so that pluto was alarmed, and feared that his kingdom would be laid open to the light of day. under this apprehension, he mounted his chariot, drawn by black horses, and took a circuit of inspection to satisfy himself of the extent of the damage. while he was thus engaged, venus, who was sitting on mount eryx playing with her boy cupid, espied him, and said, "my son, take your darts with which you conquer all, even jove himself, and send one into the breast of yonder dark monarch, who rules the realm of tartarus. why should he alone escape? seize the opportunity to extend your empire and mine. do you not see that even in heaven some despise our power? minerva the wise, and diana the huntress, defy us; and there is that daughter of ceres, who threatens to follow their example. now do you, if you have any regard for your own interest or mine, join these two in one." the boy unbound his quiver, and selected his sharpest and truest arrow; then straining the bow against his knee, he attached the string, and, having made ready, shot the arrow with its barbed point right into the heart of pluto. in the vale of enna there is a lake embowered in woods, which screen it from the fervid rays of the sun, while the moist ground is covered with flowers, and spring reigns perpetual. here proserpine was playing with her companions, gathering lilies and violets, and filling her basket and her apron with them, when pluto saw her, loved her, and carried her off. she screamed for help to her mother and companions; and when in her fright she dropped the corners of her apron and let the flowers fall, childlike she felt the loss of them as an addition to her grief. the ravisher urged on his steeds, calling them each by name, and throwing loose over their heads and necks his iron-colored reins. when he reached the river cyane, and it opposed his passage, he struck the river-bank with his trident, and the earth opened and gave him a passage to tartarus. ceres sought her daughter all the world over. bright-haired aurora, when she came forth in the morning, and hesperus when he led out the stars in the evening, found her still busy in the search. but it was all unavailing. at length, weary and sad, she sat down upon a stone, and continued sitting nine days and nights, in the open air, under the sunlight and moonlight and falling showers. it was where now stands the city of eleusis, then the home of an old man named celeus. he was out in the field, gathering acorns and blackberries, and sticks for his fire. his little girl was driving home their two goats, and as she passed the goddess, who appeared in the guise of an old woman, she said to her, "mother,"--and the name was sweet to the ears of ceres,-- "why do you sit here alone upon the rocks?" the old man also stopped, though his load was heavy, and begged her to come into his cottage, such as it was. she declined, and he urged her. "go in peace," she replied, "and be happy in your daughter; i have lost mine." as she spoke, tears--or something like tears, for the gods never weep--fell down her cheeks upon her bosom. the compassionate old man and his child wept with her. then said he, "come with us, and despise not our humble roof; so may your daughter be restored to you in safety." "lead on," said she, "i cannot resist that appeal!" so she rose from the stone and went with them. as they walked he told her that his only son, a little boy, lay very sick, feverish, and sleepless. she stooped and gathered some poppies. as they entered the cottage, they found all in great distress, for the boy seemed past hope of recovery. metanira, his mother, received her kindly, and the goddess stooped and kissed the lips of the sick child. instantly the paleness left his face, and healthy vigor returned to his body. the whole family were delighted--that is, the father, mother, and little girl, for they were all; they had no servants. they spread the table, and put upon it curds and cream, apples, and honey in the comb. while they ate, ceres mingled poppy juice in the milk of the boy. when night came and all was still, she arose, and taking the sleeping boy, moulded his limbs with her hands, and uttered over him three times a solemn charm, then went and laid him in the ashes. his mother, who had been watching what her guest was doing, sprang forward with a cry and snatched the child from the fire. then ceres assumed her own form, and a divine splendor shone all around. while they were overcome with astonishment, she said, "mother, you have been cruel in your fondness to your son. i would have made him immortal, but you have frustrated my attempt. nevertheless, he shall be great and useful. he shall teach men the use of the plough, and the rewards which labor can win from the cultivated soil." so saying, she wrapped a cloud about her, and mounting her chariot rode away. ceres continued her search for her daughter, passing from land to land, and across seas and rivers, till at length she returned to sicily, whence she at first set out, and stood by the banks of the river cyane, where pluto made himself a passage with his prize to his own dominions. the river nymph would have told the goddess all she had witnessed, but dared not, for fear of pluto; so she only ventured to take up the girdle which proserpine had dropped in her flight, and waft it to the feet of the mother. ceres, seeing this, was no longer in doubt of her loss, but she did not yet know the cause, and laid the blame on the innocent land. "ungrateful soil," said she, "which i have endowed with fertility and clothed with herbage and nourishing grain, no more shall you enjoy my favors." then the cattle died, the plough broke in the furrow, the seed failed to come up; there was too much sun, there was too much rain; the birds stole the seeds--thistles and brambles were the only growth. seeing this, the fountain arethusa interceded for the land. "goddess," said she, "blame not the land; it opened unwillingly to yield a passage to your daughter. i can tell you of her fate, for i have seen her. this is not my native country; i came hither from elis. i was a woodland nymph, and delighted in the chase. they praised my beauty, but i cared nothing for it, and rather boasted of my hunting exploits. one day i was returning from the wood, heated with exercise, when i came to a stream silently flowing, so clear that you might count the pebbles on the bottom. the willows shaded it, and the grassy bank sloped down to the water's edge. i approached, i touched the water with my foot. i stepped in knee-deep, and not content with that, i laid my garments on the willows and went in. while i sported in the water, i heard an indistinct murmur coming up as out of the depths of the stream: and made haste to escape to the nearest bank. the voice said, 'why do you fly, arethusa? i am alpheus, the god of this stream.' i ran, he pursued; he was not more swift than i, but he was stronger, and gained upon me, as my strength failed. at last, exhausted, i cried for help to diana. 'help me, goddess! help your votary!' the goddess heard, and wrapped me suddenly in a thick cloud. the river god looked now this way and now that, and twice came close to me, but could not find me. 'arethusa! arethusa!' he cried. oh, how i trembled,--like a lamb that hears the wolf growling outside the fold. a cold sweat came over me, my hair flowed down in streams; where my foot stood there was a pool. in short, in less time than it takes to tell it i became a fountain. but in this form alpheus knew me and attempted to mingle his stream with mine. diana cleft the ground, and i, endeavoring to escape him, plunged into the cavern, and through the bowels of the earth came out here in sicily. while i passed through the lower parts of the earth, i saw your proserpine. she was sad, but no longer showing alarm in her countenance. her look was such as became a queen--the queen of erebus; the powerful bride of the monarch of the realms of the dead." when ceres heard this, she stood for a while like one stupefied; then turned her chariot towards heaven, and hastened to present herself before the throne of jove. she told the story of her bereavement, and implored jupiter to interfere to procure the restitution of her daughter. jupiter consented on one condition, namely, that proserpine should not during her stay in the lower world have taken any food; otherwise, the fates forbade her release. accordingly, mercury was sent, accompanied by spring, to demand proserpine of pluto. the wily monarch consented; but, alas! the maiden had taken a pomegranate which pluto offered her, and had sucked the sweet pulp from a few of the seeds. this was enough to prevent her complete release; but a compromise was made, by which she was to pass half the time with her mother, and the rest with her husband pluto. ceres allowed herself to be pacified with this arrangement, and restored the earth to her favor. now she remembered celeus and his family, and her promise to his infant son triptolemus. when the boy grew up, she taught him the use of the plough, and how to sow the seed. she took him in her chariot, drawn by winged dragons, through all the countries of the earth, imparting to mankind valuable grains, and the knowledge of agriculture. after his return, triptolemus built a magnificent temple to ceres in eleusis, and established the worship of the goddess, under the name of the eleusinian mysteries, which, in the splendor and solemnity of their observance, surpassed all other religious celebrations among the greeks. there can be little doubt of this story of ceres and proserpine being an allegory. proserpine signifies the seed-corn which when cast into the ground lies there concealed--that is, she is carried off by the god of the underworld. it reappears--that is, proserpine is restored to her mother. spring leads her back to the light of day. milton alludes to the story of proserpine in "paradise lost," book iv.: ". . . not that fair field of enna where proserpine gathering flowers, herself a fairer flower, by gloomy dis was gathered, which cost ceres all that pain to seek her through the world,-- ... might with this paradise of eden strive." hood, in his "ode to melancholy," uses the same allusion very beautifully: "forgive, if somewhile i forget, in woe to come the present bliss; as frighted proserpine let fall her flowers at the sight of dis." the river alpheus does in fact disappear underground, in part of its course, finding its way through subterranean channels till it again appears on the surface. it was said that the sicilian fountain arethusa was the same stream, which, after passing under the sea, came up again in sicily. hence the story ran that a cup thrown into the alpheus appeared again in arethusa. it is this fable of the underground course of alpheus that coleridge alludes to in his poem of "kubla khan": "in xanadu did kubla khan a stately pleasure-dome decree, where alph, the sacred river, ran through caverns measureless to man, down to a sunless sea." in one of moore's juvenile poems he thus alludes to the same story, and to the practice of throwing garlands or other light objects on his stream to be carried downward by it, and afterwards reproduced at its emerging: "o my beloved, how divinely sweet is the pure joy when kindred spirits meet! like him the river god, whose waters flow, with love their only light, through caves below, wafting in triumph all the flowery braids and festal rings, with which olympic maids have decked his current, as an offering meet to lay at arethusa's shining feet. think, when he meets at last his fountain bride, what perfect love must thrill the blended tide! each lost in each, till mingling into one, their lot the same for shadow or for sun, a type of true love, to the deep they run." the following extract from moore's "rhymes on the road" gives an account of a celebrated picture by albano, at milan, called a dance of loves: "'tis for the theft ef enna's flower from earth these urchins celebrate their dance of mirth, round the green tree, like fays upon a heath;-- those that are nearest linked in order bright, cheek after cheek, like rosebuds in a wreath; and those more distant showing from beneath the others' wings their little eyes of light. while see! among the clouds, their eldest brother, but just flown up, tells with a smile of bliss, this prank of pluto to his charmed mother, who turns to greet the tidings with a kiss." glaucus and scylla glaucus was a fisherman. one day he had drawn his nets to land, and had taken a great many fishes of various kinds. so he emptied his net, and proceeded to sort the fishes on the grass. the place where he stood was a beautiful island in the river, a solitary spot, uninhabited, and not used for pasturage of cattle, nor ever visited by any but himself. on a sudden, the fishes, which had been laid on the grass, began to revive and move their fins as if they were in the water; and while he looked on astonished, they one and all moved off to the water, plunged in, and swam away. he did not know what to make of this, whether some god had done it or some secret power in the herbage. "what herb has such a power?" he exclaimed; and gathering some of it, he tasted it. scarce had the juices of the plant reached his palate when he found himself agitated with a longing desire for the water. he could no longer restrain himself, but bidding farewell to earth, he plunged into the stream. the gods of the water received him graciously, and admitted him to the honor of their society. they obtained the consent of oceanus and tethys, the sovereigns of the sea, that all that was mortal in him should be washed away. a hundred rivers poured their waters over him. then he lost all sense of his former nature and all consciousness. when he recovered, he found himself changed in form and mind. his hair was sea-green, and trailed behind him on the water; his shoulders grew broad, and what had been thighs and legs assumed the form of a fish's tail. the sea- gods complimented him on the change of his appearance, and he fancied himself rather a good-looking personage. one day glaucus saw the beautiful maiden scylla, the favorite of the water-nymphs, rambling on the shore, and when she had found a sheltered nook, laving her limbs in the clear water. he fell in love with her, and showing himself on the surface, spoke to her, saying such things as he thought most likely to win her to stay; for she turned to run immediately on the sight of him, and ran till she had gained a cliff overlooking the sea. here she stopped and turned round to see whether it was a god or a sea animal, and observed with wonder his shape and color. glaucus partly emerging from the water, and supporting himself against a rock, said, "maiden, i am no monster, nor a sea animal, but a god; and neither proteus nor triton ranks higher than i. once i was a mortal, and followed the sea for a living; but now i belong wholly to it." then he told the story of his metamorphosis, and how he had been promoted to his present dignity, and added, "but what avails all this if it fails to move your heart?" he was going on in this strain, but scylla turned and hastened away. glaucus was in despair, but it occurred to him to consult the enchantress circe. accordingly he repaired to her island--the same where afterwards ulysses landed, as we shall see in one of our later stories. after mutual salutations, he said, "goddess, i entreat your pity; you alone can relieve the pain i suffer. the power of herbs i know as well as any one, for it is to them i owe my change of form. i love scylla. i am ashamed to tell you how i have sued and promised to her, and how scornfully she has treated me. i beseech you to use your incantations, or potent herbs, if they are more prevailing, not to cure me of my love,--for that i do not wish,--but to make her share it and yield me a like return." to which circe replied, for she was not insensible to the attractions of the sea-green deity, "you had better pursue a willing object; you are worthy to be sought, instead of having to seek in vain. be not diffident, know your own worth. i protest to you that even i, goddess though i be, and learned in the virtues of plants and spells, should not know how to refuse you. if she scorns you scorn her; meet one who is ready to meet you half way, and thus make a due return to both at once." to these words glaucus replied, "sooner shall trees grow at the bottom of the ocean, and sea-weed on the top of the mountains, than i will cease to love scylla, and her alone." the goddess was indignant, but she could not punish him, neither did she wish to do so, for she liked him too well; so she turned all her wrath against her rival, poor scylla. she took plants of poisonous powers and mixed them together, with incantations and charms. then she passed through the crowd of gambolling beasts, the victims of her art, and proceeded to the coast of sicily, where scylla lived. there was a little bay on the shore to which scylla used to resort, in the heat of the day, to breathe the air of the sea, and to bathe in its waters. here the goddess poured her poisonous mixture, and muttered over it incantations of mighty power. scylla came as usual and plunged into the water up to her waist. what was her horror to perceive a brood of serpents and barking monsters surrounding her! at first she could not imagine they were a part of herself, and tried to run from them, and to drive them away; but as she ran she carried them with her, and when she tried to touch her limbs, she found her hands touch only the yawning jaws of monsters. scylla remained rooted to the spot. her temper grew as ugly as her form, and she took pleasure in devouring hapless mariners who came within her grasp. thus she destroyed six of the companions of ulysses, and tried to wreck the ships of aeneas, till at last she was turned into a rock, and as such still continues to be a terror to mariners. keats, in his "endymion," has given a new version of the ending of "glaucus and scylla." glaucus consents to circe's blandishments, till he by chance is witness to her transactions with her beasts. disgusted with her treachery and cruelty, he tries to escape from her, but is taken and brought back, when with reproaches she banishes him, sentencing him to pass a thousand years in decrepitude and pain. he returns to the sea, and there finds the body of scylla, whom the goddess has not transformed but drowned. glaucus learns that his destiny is that, if he passes his thousand years in collecting all the bodies of drowned lovers, a youth beloved of the gods will appear and help him. endymion fulfils this prophecy, and aids in restoring glaucus to youth, and scylla and all the drowned lovers to life. the following is glaucus's account of his feelings after his "sea- change": "i plunged for life or death. to interknit one's senses with so dense a breathing stuff might seem a work of pain; so not enough can i admire how crystal-smooth it felt, and buoyant round my limbs. at first i dwelt whole days and days in sheer astonishment; forgetful utterly of self-intent, moving but with the mighty ebb and flow. then like a new-fledged bird that first doth show his spreaded feathers to the morrow chill, i tried in fear the pinions of my will. 'twas freedom! and at once i visited the ceaseless wonders of this ocean-bed," etc. --keats. chapter viii pygmalion--dryope-venus and adonis--apollo and hyacinthus pygmalion saw so much to blame in women that he came at last to abhor the sex, and resolved to live unmarried. he was a sculptor, and had made with wonderful skill a statue of ivory, so beautiful that no living woman came anywhere near it. it was indeed the perfect semblance of a maiden that seemed to be alive, and only prevented from moving by modesty. his art was so perfect that it concealed itself and its product looked like the workmanship of nature. pygmalion admired his own work, and at last fell in love with the counterfeit creation. oftentimes he laid his hand upon it as if to assure himself whether it were living or not, and could not even then believe that it was only ivory. he caressed it, and gave it presents such as young girls love,--bright shells and polished stones, little birds and flowers of various hues, beads and amber. he put raiment on its limbs, and jewels on its fingers, and a necklace about its neck. to the ears he hung earrings and strings of pearls upon the breast. her dress became her, and she looked not less charming than when unattired. he laid her on a couch spread with cloths of tyrian dye, and called her his wife, and put her head upon a pillow of the softest feathers, as if she could enjoy their softness. the festival of venus was at hand--a festival celebrated with great pomp at cyprus. victims were offered, the altars smoked, and the odor of incense filled the air. when pygmalion had performed his part in the solemnities, he stood before the altar and timidly said, "ye gods, who can do all things, give me, i pray you, for my wife"--he dared not say "my ivory virgin," but said instead--"one like my ivory virgin." venus, who was present at the festival, heard him and knew the thought he would have uttered; and as an omen of her favor, caused the flame on the altar to shoot up thrice in a fiery point into the air. when he returned home, he went to see his statue, and leaning over the couch, gave a kiss to the mouth. it seemed to be warm. he pressed its lips again, he laid his hand upon the limbs; the ivory felt soft to his touch and yielded to his fingers like the wax of hymettus. while he stands astonished and glad, though doubting, and fears he may be mistaken, again and again with a lover's ardor he touches the object of his hopes. it was indeed alive! the veins when pressed yielded to the finger and again resumed their roundness. then at last the votary of venus found words to thank the goddess, and pressed his lips upon lips as real as his own. the virgin felt the kisses and blushed, and opening her timid eyes to the light, fixed them at the same moment on her lover. venus blessed the nuptials she had formed, and from this union paphos was born, from whom the city, sacred to venus, received its name. schiller, in his poem the "ideals," applies this tale of pygmalion to the love of nature in a youthful heart. the following translation is furnished by a friend: "as once with prayers in passion flowing, pygmalion embraced the stone, till from the frozen marble glowing, the light of feeling o'er him shone, so did i clasp with young devotion bright nature to a poet's heart; till breath and warmth and vital motion seemed through the statue form to dart. "and then, in all my ardor sharing, the silent form expression found; returned my kiss of youthful daring, and understood my heart's quick sound. then lived for me the bright creation, the silver rill with song was rife; the trees, the roses shared sensation, an echo of my boundless life." --s. g. b. dryope dryope and iole were sisters. the former was the wife of andraemon, beloved by her husband, and happy in the birth of her first child. one day the sisters strolled to the bank of a stream that sloped gradually down to the water's edge, while the upland was overgrown with myrtles. they were intending to gather flowers for forming garlands for the altars of the nymphs, and dryope carried her child at her bosom, precious burden, and nursed him as she walked. near the water grew a lotus plant, full of purple flowers. dryope gathered some and offered them to the baby, and iole was about to do the same, when she perceived blood dropping from the places where her sister had broken them off the stem. the plant was no other than the nymph lotis, who, running from a base pursuer, had been changed into this form. this they learned from the country people when it was too late. dryope, horror-struck when she perceived what she had done, would gladly have hastened from the spot, but found her feet rooted to the ground. she tried to pull them away, but moved nothing but her upper limbs. the woodiness crept upward, and by degrees invested her body. in anguish she attempted to tear her hair, but found her hands filled with leaves. the infant felt his mother's bosom begin to harden, and the milk cease to flow. iole looked on at the sad fate of her sister, and could render no assistance. she embraced the growing trunk, as if she would hold back the advancing wood, and would gladly have been enveloped in the same bark. at this moment andraemon, the husband of dryope, with her father, approached; and when they asked for dryope, iole pointed them to the new-formed lotus. they embraced the trunk of the yet warm tree, and showered their kisses on its leaves. now there was nothing left of dryope but her face. her tears still flowed and fell on her leaves, and while she could she spoke. "i am not guilty. i deserve not this fate. i have injured no one. if i speak falsely, may my foliage perish with drought and my trunk be cut down and burned. take this infant and give it to a nurse. let it often be brought and nursed under my branches, and play in my shade; and when he is old enough to talk, let him be taught to call me mother, and to say with sadness, 'my mother lies hid under this bark.' but bid him be careful of river banks, and beware how he plucks flowers, remembering that every bush he sees may be a goddess in disguise. farewell, dear husband, and sister, and father. if you retain any love for me, let not the axe wound me, nor the flocks bite and tear my branches. since i cannot stoop to you, climb up hither and kiss me; and while my lips continue to feel, lift up my child that i may kiss him. i can speak no more, for already the bark advances up my neck, and will soon shoot over me. you need not close my eyes, the bark will close them without your aid." then the lips ceased to move, and life was extinct; but the branches retained for some time longer the vital heat. keats, in "endymion," alludes to dryope thus: "she took a lute from which there pulsing came a lively prelude, fashioning the way in which her voice should wander. 't was a lay more subtle-cadenced, more forest-wild than dryope's lone lulling of her child;" etc. venus and adonis venus, playing one day with her boy cupid, wounded her bosom with one of his arrows. she pushed him away, but the wound was deeper than she thought. before it healed she beheld adonis, and was captivated with him. she no longer took any interest in her favorite resorts--paphos, and cnidos, and amathos, rich in metals. she absented herself even from heaven, for adonis was dearer to her than heaven. him she followed and bore him company. she who used to love to recline in the shade, with no care but to cultivate her charms, now rambles through the woods and over the hills, dressed like the huntress diana; and calls her dogs, and chases hares and stags, or other game that it is safe to hunt, but keeps clear of the wolves and bears, reeking with the slaughter of the herd. she charged adonis, too, to beware of such dangerous animals. "be brave towards the timid," said she; "courage against the courageous is not safe. beware how you expose yourself to danger and put my happiness to risk. attack not the beasts that nature has armed with weapons. i do not value your glory so high as to consent to purchase it by such exposure. your youth, and the beauty that charms venus, will not touch the hearts of lions and bristly boars. think of their terrible claws and prodigious strength! i hate the whole race of them. do you ask me why?" then she told him the story of atalanta and hippomenes, who were changed into lions for their ingratitude to her. having given him this warning, she mounted her chariot drawn by swans, and drove away through the air. but adonis was too noble to heed such counsels. the dogs had roused a wild boar from his lair, and the youth threw his spear and wounded the animal with a sidelong stroke. the beast drew out the weapon with his jaws, and rushed after adonis, who turned and ran; but the boar overtook him, and buried his tusks in his side, and stretched him dying upon the plain. venus, in her swan-drawn chariot, had not yet reached cyprus, when she heard coming up through mid-air the groans of her beloved, and turned her white-winged coursers back to earth. as she drew near and saw from on high his lifeless body bathed in blood, she alighted and, bending over it, beat her breast and tore her hair. reproaching the fates, she said, "yet theirs shall be but a partial triumph; memorials of my grief shall endure, and the spectacle of your death, my adonis, and of my lamentations shall be annually renewed. your blood shall be changed into a flower; that consolation none can envy me." thus speaking, she sprinkled nectar on the blood; and as they mingled, bubbles rose as in a pool on which raindrops fall, and in an hour's time there sprang up a flower of bloody hue like that of the pomegranate. but it is short-lived. it is said the wind blows the blossoms open, and afterwards blows the petals away; so it is called anemone, or wind flower, from the cause which assists equally in its production and its decay. milton alludes to the story of venus and adonis in his "comus": "beds of hyacinth and roses where young adonis oft reposes, waxing well of his deep wound in slumber soft, and on the ground sadly sits th' assyrian queen;" etc. apollo and hyacinthus apollo was passionately fond of a youth named hyacinthus. he accompanied him in his sports, carried the nets when he went fishing, led the dogs when he went to hunt, followed him in his excursions in the mountains, and neglected for him his lyre and his arrows. one day they played a game of quoits together, and apollo, heaving aloft the discus, with strength mingled with skill, sent it high and far. hyacinthus watched it as it flew, and excited with the sport ran forward to seize it, eager to make his throw, when the quoit bounded from the earth and struck him in the forehead. he fainted and fell. the god, as pale as himself, raised him and tried all his art to stanch the wound and retain the flitting life, but all in vain; the hurt was past the power of medicine. as when one has broken the stem of a lily in the garden it hangs its head and turns its flowers to the earth, so the head of the dying boy, as if too heavy for his neck, fell over on his shoulder. "thou diest, hyacinth," so spoke phoebus, "robbed of thy youth by me. thine is the suffering, mine the crime. would that i could die for thee! but since that may not be, thou shalt live with me in memory and in song. my lyre shall celebrate thee, my song shall tell thy fate, and thou shalt become a flower inscribed with my regrets." while apollo spoke, behold the blood which had flowed on the ground and stained the herbage ceased to be blood; but a flower of hue more beautiful than the tyrian sprang up, resembling the lily, if it were not that this is purple and that silvery white. [footnote: it is evidently not our modern hyacinth that is here described. it is perhaps some species of iris, or perhaps of larkspur or of pansy.] and this was not enough for phoebus; but to confer still greater honor, he marked the petals with his sorrow, and inscribed "ah! ah!" upon them, as we see to this day. the flower bears the name of hyacinthus, and with every returning spring revives the memory of his fate. it was said that zephyrus (the west wind), who was also fond of hyacinthus and jealous of his preference of apollo, blew the quoit out of its course to make it strike hyacinthus. keats alludes to this in his "endymion," where he describes the lookers-on at the game of quoits: "or they might watch the quoit-pitchers, intent on either side, pitying the sad death of hyacinthus, when the cruel breath of zephyr slew him; zephyr penitent, who now ere phoebus mounts the firmament, fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain." an allusion to hyacinthus will also be recognized in milton's "lycidas": "like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe." chapter ix ceyx and halcyone: or, the halcyon birds ceyx was king of thessaly, where he reigned in peace, without violence or wrong. he was son of hesperus, the day-star, and the glow of his beauty reminded one of his father. halcyone, the daughter of aeolus, was his wife, and devotedly attached to him. now ceyx was in deep affliction for the loss of his brother, and direful prodigies following his brother's death made him feel as if the gods were hostile to him. he thought best, therefore, to make a voyage to carlos in ionia, to consult the oracle of apollo. but as soon as he disclosed his intention to his wife halcyone, a shudder ran through her frame, and her face grew deadly pale. "what fault of mine, dearest husband, has turned your affection from me? where is that love of me that used to be uppermost in your thoughts? have you learned to feel easy in the absence of halcyone? would you rather have me away?" she also endeavored to discourage him, by describing the violence of the winds, which she had known familiarly when she lived at home in her father's house,--aeolus being the god of the winds, and having as much as he could do to restrain them. "they rush together," said she, "with such fury that fire flashes from the conflict. but if you must go," she added, "dear husband, let me go with you, otherwise i shall suffer not only the real evils which you must encounter, but those also which my fears suggest." these words weighed heavily on the mind of king ceyx, and it was no less his own wish than hers to take her with him, but he could not bear to expose her to the dangers of the sea. he answered, therefore, consoling her as well as he could, and finished with these words: "i promise, by the rays of my father the day-star, that if fate permits i will return before the moon shall have twice rounded her orb." when he had thus spoken, he ordered the vessel to be drawn out of the shiphouse, and the oars and sails to be put aboard. when halcyone saw these preparations she shuddered, as if with a presentiment of evil. with tears and sobs she said farewell, and then fell senseless to the ground. ceyx would still have lingered, but now the young men grasped their oars and pulled vigorously through the waves, with long and measured strokes. halcyone raised her streaming eyes, and saw her husband standing on the deck, waving his hand to her. she answered his signal till the vessel had receded so far that she could no longer distinguish his form from the rest. when the vessel itself could no more be seen, she strained her eyes to catch the last glimmer of the sail, till that too disappeared. then, retiring to her chamber, she threw herself on her solitary couch. meanwhile they glide out of the harbor, and the breeze plays among the ropes. the seamen draw in their oars, and hoist their sails. when half or less of their course was passed, as night drew on, the sea began to whiten with swelling waves, and the east wind to blow a gale. the master gave the word to take in sail, but the storm forbade obedience, for such is the roar of the winds and waves his orders are unheard. the men, of their own accord, busy themselves to secure the oars, to strengthen the ship, to reef the sail. while they thus do what to each one seems best, the storm increases. the shouting of the men, the rattling of the shrouds, and the dashing of the waves, mingle with the roar of the thunder. the swelling sea seems lifted up to the heavens, to scatter its foam among the clouds; then sinking away to the bottom assumes the color of the shoal--a stygian blackness. the vessel shares all these changes. it seems like a wild beast that rushes on the spears of the hunters. rain falls in torrents, as if the skies were coming down to unite with the sea. when the lightning ceases for a moment, the night seems to add its own darkness to that of the storm; then comes the flash, rending the darkness asunder, and lighting up all with a glare. skill fails, courage sinks, and death seems to come on every wave. the men are stupefied with terror. the thought of parents, and kindred, and pledges left at home, comes over their minds. ceyx thinks of halcyone. no name but hers is on his lips, and while he yearns for her, he yet rejoices in her absence. presently the mast is shattered by a stroke of lightning, the rudder broken, and the triumphant surge curling over looks down upon, the wreck, then falls, and crushes it to fragments. some of the seamen, stunned by the stroke, sink, and rise no more; others cling to fragments of the wreck. ceyx, with the hand that used to grasp the sceptre, holds fast to a plank, calling for help,--alas, in vain,--upon his father and his father-in-law. but oftenest on his lips was the name of halcyone. to her his thoughts cling. he prays that the waves may bear his body to her sight, and that it may receive burial at her hands. at length the waters overwhelm him, and he sinks. the day-star looked dim that night. since it could not leave the heavens, it shrouded its face with clouds. in the meanwhile halcyone, ignorant of all these horrors, counted the days till her husband's promised return. now she gets ready the garments which he shall put on, and now what she shall wear when he arrives. to all the gods she offers frequent incense, but more than all to juno. for her husband, who was no more, she prayed incessantly: that he might be safe; that he might come home; that he might not, in his absence, see any one that he would love better than her. but of all these prayers, the last was the only one destined to be granted. the goddess, at length, could not bear any longer to be pleaded with for one already dead, and to have hands raised to her altars that ought rather to be offering funeral rites. so, calling iris, she said, "iris, my faithful messenger, go to the drowsy dwelling of somnus, and tell him to send a vision to halcyone in the form of ceyx, to make known to her the event." iris puts on her robe of many colors, and tingeing the sky with her bow, seeks the palace of the king of sleep. near the cimmerian country, a mountain cave is the abode of the dull god somnus. here phoebus dares not come, either rising, at midday, or setting. clouds and shadows are exhaled from the ground, and the light glimmers faintly. the bird of dawning, with crested head, never there calls aloud to aurora, nor watchful dog, nor more sagacious goose disturbs the silence. no wild beast, nor cattle, nor branch moved with the wind, nor sound of human conversation, breaks the stillness. silence reigns there; but from the bottom of the rock the river lethe flows, and by its murmur invites to sleep. poppies grow abundantly before the door of the cave, and other herbs, from whose juices night collects slumbers, which she scatters over the darkened earth. there is no gate to the mansion, to creak on its hinges, nor any watchman; but in the midst a couch of black ebony, adorned with black plumes and black curtains. there the god reclines, his limbs relaxed with sleep. around him lie dreams, resembling all various forms, as many as the harvest bears stalks, or the forest leaves, or the seashore sand grains. as soon as the goddess entered and brushed away the dreams that hovered around her, her brightness lit up all the cave. the god, scarce opening his eyes, and ever and anon dropping his beard upon his breast, at last shook himself free from himself, and leaning on his arm, inquired her errand,--for he knew who she was. she answered, "somnus, gentlest of the gods, tranquillizer of minds and soother of care-worn hearts, juno sends you her commands that you despatch a dream to halcyone, in the city of trachine, representing her lost husband and all the events of the wreck." having delivered her message, iris hasted away, for she could not longer endure the stagnant air, and as she felt drowsiness creeping over her, she made her escape, and returned by her bow the way she came. then somnus called one of his numerous sons,-- morpheus,--the most expert in counterfeiting forms, and in imitating the walk, the countenance, and mode of speaking, even the clothes and attitudes most characteristic of each. but he only imitates men, leaving it to another to personate birds, beasts, and serpents. him they call icelos; and phantasos is a third, who turns himself into rocks, waters, woods, and other things without life. these wait upon kings and great personages in their sleeping hours, while others move among the common people. somnus chose, from all the brothers, morpheus, to perform the command of iris; then laid his head on his pillow and yielded himself to grateful repose. morpheus flew, making no noise with his wings, and soon came to the haemonian city, where, laying aside his wings, he assumed the form of ceyx. under that form, but pale like a dead man, naked, he stood before the couch of the wretched wife. his beard seemed soaked with water, and water trickled from his drowned locks. leaning over the bed, tears streaming from his eyes, he said, "do you recognize your ceyx, unhappy wife, or has death too much changed my visage? behold me, know me, your husband's shade, instead of himself. your prayers, halcyone, availed me nothing. i am dead. no more deceive yourself with vain hopes of my return. the stormy winds sunk my ship in the aegean sea, waves filled my mouth while it called aloud on you. no uncertain messenger tells you this, no vague rumor brings it to your ears. i come in person, a shipwrecked man, to tell you my fate. arise! give me tears, give me lamentations, let me not go down to tartarus unwept." to these words morpheus added the voice, which seemed to be that of her husband; he seemed to pour forth genuine tears; his hands had the gestures of ceyx. halcyone, weeping, groaned, and stretched out her arms in her sleep, striving to embrace his body, but grasping only the air. "stay!" she cried; "whither do you fly? let us go together." her own voice awakened her. starting up, she gazed eagerly around, to see if he was still present, for the servants, alarmed by her cries, had brought a light. when she found him not, she smote her breast and rent her garments. she cares not to unbind her hair, but tears it wildly. her nurse asks what is the cause of her grief. "halcyone is no more," she answers, "she perished with her ceyx. utter not words of comfort, he is shipwrecked and dead. i have seen him, i have recognized him. i stretched out my hands to seize him and detain him. his shade vanished, but it was the true shade of my husband. not with the accustomed features, not with the beauty that was his, but pale, naked, and with his hair wet with sea-water, he appeared to wretched me. here, in this very spot, the sad vision stood,"--and she looked to find the mark of his footsteps. "this it was, this that my presaging mind foreboded, when i implored him not to leave me, to trust himself to the waves. oh, how i wish, since thou wouldst go, thou hadst taken me with thee! it would have been far better. then i should have had no remnant of life to spend without thee, nor a separate death to die. if i could bear to live and struggle to endure, i should be more cruel to myself than the sea has been to me. but i will not struggle, i will not be separated from thee, unhappy husband. this time, at least, i will keep thee company. in death, if one tomb may not include us, one epitaph shall; if i may not lay my ashes with thine, my name, at least, shall not be separated." her grief forbade more words, and these were broken with tears and sobs. it was now morning. she went to the seashore, and sought the spot where she last saw him, on his departure. "while he lingered here, and cast off his tacklings, he gave me his last kiss." while she reviews every object, and strives to recall every incident, looking out over the sea, she descries an indistinct object floating in the water. at first she was in doubt what it was, but by degrees the waves bore it nearer, and it was plainly the body of a man. though unknowing of whom, yet, as it was of some shipwrecked one, she was deeply moved, and gave it her tears, saying, "alas! unhappy one, and unhappy, if such there be, thy wife!" borne by the waves, it came nearer. as she more and more nearly views it, she trembles more and more. now, now it approaches the shore. now marks that she recognizes appear. it is her husband! stretching out her trembling hands towards it, she exclaims, "o dearest husband, is it thus you return to me?" there was built out from the shore a mole, constructed to break the assaults of the sea, and stem its violent ingress. she leaped upon this barrier and (it was wonderful she could do so) she flew, and striking the air with wings produced on the instant, skimmed along the surface of the water, an unhappy bird. as she flew, her throat poured forth sounds full of grief, and like the voice of one lamenting. when she touched the mute and bloodless body, she enfolded its beloved limbs with her new-formed wings, and tried to give kisses with her horny beak. whether ceyx felt it, or whether it was only the action of the waves, those who looked on doubted, but the body seemed to raise its head. but indeed he did feel it, and by the pitying gods both of them were changed into birds. they mate and have their young ones. for seven placid days, in winter time, halcyone broods over her nest, which floats upon the sea. then the way is safe to seamen. aeolus guards the winds and keeps them from disturbing the deep. the sea is given up, for the time, to his grandchildren. the following lines from byron's "bride of abydos" might seem borrowed from the concluding part of this description, if it were not stated that the author derived the suggestion from observing the motion of a floating corpse: "as shaken on his restless pillow, his head heaves with the heaving billow, that hand, whose motion is not life, yet feebly seems to menace strife, flung by the tossing tide on high, then levelled with the wave ..." milton in his "hymn on the nativity," thus alludes to the fable of the halcyon: "but peaceful was the night wherein the prince of light his reign of peace upon the earth began; the winds with wonder whist smoothly the waters kist whispering new joys to the mild ocean, who now hath quite forgot to rave while birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave." keats, also, in "endymion," says: "o magic sleep! o comfortable bird that broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind till it is hushed and smooth." chapter x vertumnus and pomona the hamadryads were wood-nymphs. pomona was of this class, and no one excelled her in love of the garden and the culture of fruit. she cared not for forests and rivers, but loved the cultivated country, and trees that bear delicious apples. her right hand bore for its weapon not a javelin, but a pruning-knife. armed with this, she busied herself at one time to repress the too luxuriant growths, and curtail the branches that straggled out of place; at another, to split the twig and insert therein a graft, making the branch adopt a nursling not its own. she took care, too, that her favorites should not suffer from drought, and led streams of water by them, that the thirsty roots might drink. this occupation was her pursuit, her passion; and she was free from that which venus inspires. she was not without fear of the country people, and kept her orchard locked, and allowed not men to enter. the fauns and satyrs would have given all they possessed to win her, and so would old sylvanus, who looks young for his years, and pan, who wears a garland of pine leaves around his head. but vertumnus loved her best of all; yet he sped no better than the rest. o how often, in the disguise of a reaper, did he bring her corn in a basket, and looked the very image of a reaper! with a hay band tied round him, one would think he had just come from turning over the grass. sometimes he would have an ox-goad in his hand, and you would have said he had just unyoked his weary oxen. now he bore a pruning-hook, and personated a vine-dresser; and again, with a ladder on his shoulder, he seemed as if he was going to gather apples. sometimes he trudged along as a discharged soldier, and again he bore a fishing-rod, as if going to fish. in this way he gained admission to her again and again, and fed his passion with the sight of her. one day he came in the guise of an old woman, her gray hair surmounted with a cap, and a staff in her hand. she entered the garden and admired the fruit. "it does you credit, my dear," she said, and kissed her, not exactly with an old woman's kiss. she sat down on a bank, and looked up at the branches laden with fruit which hung over her. opposite was an elm entwined with a vine loaded with swelling grapes. she praised the tree and its associated vine, equally. "but," said she, "if the tree stood alone, and had no vine clinging to it, it would have nothing to attract or offer us but its useless leaves. and equally the vine, if it were not twined round the elm, would lie prostrate on the ground. why will you not take a lesson from the tree and the vine, and consent to unite yourself with some one? i wish you would. helen herself had not more numerous suitors, nor penelope, the wife of shrewd ulysses. even while you spurn them, they court you,--rural deities and others of every kind that frequent these mountains. but if you are prudent and want to make a good alliance, and will let an old woman advise you,--who loves you better than you have any idea of,--dismiss all the rest and accept vertumnus, on my recommendation. i know him as well as he knows himself. he is not a wandering deity, but belongs to these mountains. nor is he like too many of the lovers nowadays, who love any one they happen to see; he loves you, and you only. add to this, he is young and handsome, and has the art of assuming any shape he pleases, and can make himself just what you command him. moreover, he loves the same things that you do, delights in gardening, and handles your apples with admiration. but now he cares nothing for fruits nor flowers, nor anything else, but only yourself. take pity on him, and fancy him speaking now with my mouth. remember that the gods punish cruelty, and that venus hates a hard heart, and will visit such offences sooner or later. to prove this, let me tell you a story, which is well known in cyprus to be a fact; and i hope it will have the effect to make you more merciful. "iphis was a young man of humble parentage, who saw and loved anaxarete, a noble lady of the ancient family of teucer. he struggled long with his passion, but when he found he could not subdue it, he came a suppliant to her mansion. first he told his passion to her nurse, and begged her as she loved her foster-child to favor his suit. and then he tried to win her domestics to his side. sometimes he committed his vows to written tablets, and often hung at her door garlands which he had moistened with his tears. he stretched himself on her threshold, and uttered his complaints to the cruel bolts and bars. she was deafer than the surges which rise in the november gale; harder than steel from the german forges, or a rock that still clings to its native cliff. she mocked and laughed at him, adding cruel words to her ungentle treatment, and gave not the slightest gleam of hope. "iphis could not any longer endure the torments of hopeless love, and, standing before her doors, he spake these last words: 'anaxarete, you have conquered, and shall no longer have to bear my importunities. enjoy your triumph! sing songs of joy, and bind your forehead with laurel,--you have conquered! i die; stony heart, rejoice! this at least i can do to gratify you and force you to praise me; and thus shall i prove that the love of you left me but with life. nor will i leave it to rumor to tell you of my death. i will come myself, and you shall see me die, and feast your eyes on the spectacle. yet, o ye gods, who look down on mortal woes, observe my fate! i ask but this: let me be remembered in coming ages, and add those years to my fame which you have reft from my life. thus he said, and, turning his pale face and weeping eyes towards her mansion, he fastened a rope to the gatepost, on which he had often hung garlands, and putting his head into the noose, he murmured, 'this garland at least will please you, cruel girl!' and falling hung suspended with his neck broken. as he fell he struck against the gate, and the sound was as the sound of a groan. the servants opened the door and found him dead, and with exclamations of pity raised him and carried him home to his mother, for his father was not living. she received the dead body of her son, and folded the cold form to her bosom, while she poured forth the sad words which bereaved mothers utter. the mournful funeral passed through the town, and the pale corpse was borne on a bier to the place of the funeral pile. by chance the home of anaxarete was on the street where the procession passed, and the lamentations of the mourners met the ears of her whom the avenging deity had already marked for punishment. "'let us see this sad procession,' said she, and mounted to a turret, whence through an open window she looked upon the funeral. scarce had her eyes rested upon the form of iphis stretched on the bier, when they began to stiffen, and the warm blood in her body to become cold. endeavoring to step back, she found she could not move her feet; trying to turn away her face, she tried in vain; and by degrees all her limbs became stony like her heart. that you may not doubt the fact, the statue still remains, and stands in the temple of venus at salamis, in the exact form of the lady. now think of these things, my dear, and lay aside your scorn and your delays, and accept a lover. so may neither the vernal frosts blight your young fruits, nor furious winds scatter your blossoms!" when vertumnus had spoken thus, he dropped the disguise of an old woman, and stood before her in his proper person, as a comely youth. it appeared to her like the sun bursting through a cloud. he would have renewed his entreaties, but there was no need; his arguments and the sight of his true form prevailed, and the nymph no longer resisted, but owned a mutual flame. pomona was the especial patroness of the apple-orchard, and as such she was invoked by phillips, the author of a poem on cider, in blank verse. thomson in the "seasons" alludes to him: "phillips, pomona's bard, the second thou who nobly durst, in rhyme-unfettered verse, with british freedom, sing the british song." but pomona was also regarded as presiding over other fruits, and as such is invoked by thomson: "bear me, pomona, to thy citron groves, to where the lemon and the piercing lime, with the deep orange, glowing through the green, their lighter glories blend. lay me reclined beneath the spreading tamarind, that shakes, fanned by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit." chapter xi cupid and psyche a certain king and queen had three daughters. the charms of the two elder were more than common, but the beauty of the youngest was so wonderful that the poverty of language is unable to express its due praise. the fame of her beauty was so great that strangers from neighboring countries came in crowds to enjoy the sight, and looked on her with amazement, paying her that homage which is due only to venus herself. in fact venus found her altars deserted, while men turned their devotion to this young virgin. as she passed along, the people sang her praises, and strewed her way with chaplets and flowers. this perversion of homage due only to the immortal powers to the exaltation of a mortal gave great offence to the real venus. shaking her ambrosial locks with indignation, she exclaimed, "am i then to be eclipsed in my honors by a mortal girl? in vain then did that royal shepherd, whose judgment was approved by jove himself, give me the palm of beauty over my illustrious rivals, pallas and juno. but she shall not so quietly usurp my honors. i will give her cause to repent of so unlawful a beauty." thereupon she calls her winged son cupid, mischievous enough in his own nature, and rouses and provokes him yet more by her complaints. she points out psyche to him and says, "my dear son, punish that contumacious beauty; give thy mother a revenge as sweet as her injuries are great; infuse into the bosom of that haughty girl a passion for some low, mean, unworthy being, so that she may reap a mortification as great as her present exultation and triumph." cupid prepared to obey the commands of his mother. there are two fountains in venus's garden, one of sweet waters, the other of bitter. cupid filled two amber vases, one from each fountain, and suspending them from the top of his quiver, hastened to the chamber of psyche, whom he found asleep. he shed a few drops from the bitter fountain over her lips, though the sight of her almost moved him to pity; then touched her side with the point of his arrow. at the touch she awoke, and opened eyes upon cupid (himself invisible), which so startled him that in his confusion he wounded himself with his own arrow. heedless of his wound, his whole thought now was to repair the mischief he had done, and he poured the balmy drops of joy over all her silken ringlets. psyche, henceforth frowned upon by venus, derived no benefit from all her charms. true, all eyes were cast eagerly upon her, and every mouth spoke her praises; but neither king, royal youth, nor plebeian presented himself to demand her in marriage. her two elder sisters of moderate charms had now long been married to two royal princes; but psyche, in her lonely apartment, deplored her solitude, sick of that beauty which, while it procured abundance of flattery, had failed to awaken love. her parents, afraid that they had unwittingly incurred the anger of the gods, consulted the oracle of apollo, and received this answer: "the virgin is destined for the bride of no mortal lover. her future husband awaits her on the top of the mountain. he is a monster whom neither gods nor men can resist." this dreadful decree of the oracle filled all the people with dismay, and her parents abandoned themselves to grief. but psyche said, "why, my dear parents, do you now lament me? you should rather have grieved when the people showered upon me undeserved honors, and with one voice called me a venus. i now perceive that i am a victim to that name. i submit. lead me to that rock to which my unhappy fate has destined me." accordingly, all things being prepared, the royal maid took her place in the procession, which more resembled a funeral than a nuptial pomp, and with her parents, amid the lamentations of the people, ascended the mountain, on the summit of which they left her alone, and with sorrowful hearts returned home. while psyche stood on the ridge of the mountain, panting with fear and with eyes full of tears, the gentle zephyr raised her from the earth and bore her with an easy motion into a flowery dale. by degrees her mind became composed, and she laid herself down on the grassy bank to sleep. when she awoke refreshed with sleep, she looked round and beheld near by a pleasant grove of tall and stately trees. she entered it, and in the midst discovered a fountain, sending forth clear and crystal waters, and fast by, a magnificent palace whose august front impressed the spectator that it was not the work of mortal hands, but the happy retreat of some god. drawn by admiration and wonder, she approached the building and ventured to enter. every object she met filled her with pleasure and amazement. golden pillars supported the vaulted roof, and the walls were enriched with carvings and paintings representing beasts of the chase and rural scenes, adapted to delight the eye of the beholder. proceeding onward, she perceived that besides the apartments of state there were others filled with all manner of treasures, and beautiful and precious productions of nature and art. while her eyes were thus occupied, a voice addressed her, though she saw no one, uttering these words: "sovereign lady, all that you see is yours. we whose voices you hear are your servants and shall obey all your commands with our utmost care and diligence. retire, therefore, to your chamber and repose on your bed of down, and when you see fit repair to the bath. supper awaits you in the adjoining alcove when it pleases you to take your seat there." psyche gave ear to the admonitions of her vocal attendants, and after repose and the refreshment of the bath, seated herself in the alcove, where a table immediately presented itself, without any visible aid from waiters or servants, and covered with the greatest delicacies of food and the most nectareous wines. her ears too were feasted with music from invisible performers; of whom one sang, another played on the lute, and all closed in the wonderful harmony of a full chorus. she had not yet seen her destined husband. he came only in the hours of darkness and fled before the dawn of morning, but his accents were full of love, and inspired a like passion in her. she often begged him to stay and let her behold him, but he would not consent. on the contrary he charged her to make no attempt to see him, for it was his pleasure, for the best of reasons, to keep concealed. "why should you wish to behold me?" he said; "have you any doubt of my love? have you any wish ungratified? if you saw me, perhaps you would fear me, perhaps adore me, but all i ask of you is to love me. i would rather you would love me as an equal than adore me as a god." this reasoning somewhat quieted psyche for a time, and while the novelty lasted she felt quite happy. but at length the thought of her parents, left in ignorance of her fate, and of her sisters, precluded from sharing with her the delights of her situation, preyed on her mind and made her begin to feel her palace as but a splendid prison. when her husband came one night, she told him her distress, and at last drew from him an unwilling consent that her sisters should be brought to see her. so, calling zephyr, she acquainted him with her husband's commands, and he, promptly obedient, soon brought them across the mountain down to their sister's valley. they embraced her and she returned their caresses. "come," said psyche, "enter with me my house and refresh yourselves with whatever your sister has to offer." then taking their hands she led them into her golden palace, and committed them to the care of her numerous train of attendant voices, to refresh them in her baths and at her table, and to show them all her treasures. the view of these celestial delights caused envy to enter their bosoms, at seeing their young sister possessed of such state and splendor, so much exceeding their own. they asked her numberless questions, among others what sort of a person her husband was. psyche replied that he was a beautiful youth, who generally spent the daytime in hunting upon the mountains. the sisters, not satisfied with this reply, soon made her confess that she had never seen him. then they proceeded to fill her bosom with dark suspicions. "call to mind," they said, "the pythian oracle that declared you destined to marry a direful and tremendous monster. the inhabitants of this valley say that your husband is a terrible and monstrous serpent, who nourishes you for a while with dainties that he may by and by devour you. take our advice. provide yourself with a lamp and a sharp knife; put them in concealment that your husband may not discover them, and when he is sound asleep, slip out of bed, bring forth your lamp, and see for yourself whether what they say is true or not. if it is, hesitate not to cut off the monster's head, and thereby recover your liberty." psyche resisted these persuasions as well as she could, but they did not fail to have their effect on her mind, and when her sisters were gone, their words and her own curiosity were too strong for her to resist. so she prepared her lamp and a sharp knife, and hid them out of sight of her husband. when he had fallen into his first sleep, she silently rose and uncovering her lamp beheld not a hideous monster, but the most beautiful and charming of the gods, with his golden ringlets wandering over his snowy neck and crimson cheek, with two dewy wings on his shoulders, whiter than snow, and with shining feathers like the tender blossoms of spring. as she leaned the lamp over to have a nearer view of his face a drop of burning oil fell on the shoulder of the god, startled with which he opened his eyes and fixed them full upon her; then, without saying one word, he spread his white wings and flew out of the window. psyche, in vain endeavoring to follow him, fell from the window to the ground. cupid, beholding her as she lay in the dust, stopped his flight for an instant and said, "o foolish psyche, is it thus you repay my love? after having disobeyed my mother's commands and made you my wife, will you think me a monster and cut off my head? but go; return to your sisters, whose advice you seem to think preferable to mine. i inflict no other punishment on you than to leave you forever. love cannot dwell with suspicion." so saying, he fled away, leaving poor psyche prostrate on the ground, filling the place with mournful lamentations. when she had recovered some degree of composure she looked around her, but the palace and gardens had vanished, and she found herself in the open field not far from the city where her sisters dwelt. she repaired thither and told them the whole story of her misfortunes, at which, pretending to grieve, those spiteful creatures inwardly rejoiced. "for now," said they, "he will perhaps choose one of us." with this idea, without saying a word of her intentions, each of them rose early the next morning and ascended the mountains, and having reached the top, called upon zephyr to receive her and bear her to his lord; then leaping up, and not being sustained by zephyr, fell down the precipice and was dashed to pieces. psyche meanwhile wandered day and night, without food or repose, in search of her husband. casting her eyes on a lofty mountain having on its brow a magnificent temple, she sighed and said to herself, "perhaps my love, my lord, inhabits there," and directed her steps thither. she had no sooner entered than she saw heaps of corn, some in loose ears and some in sheaves, with mingled ears of barley. scattered about, lay sickles and rakes, and all the instruments of harvest, without order, as if thrown carelessly out of the weary reapers' hands in the sultry hours of the day. this unseemly confusion the pious psyche put an end to, by separating and sorting everything to its proper place and kind, believing that she ought to neglect none of the gods, but endeavor by her piety to engage them all in her behalf. the holy ceres, whose temple it was, finding her so religiously employed, thus spoke to her: "o psyche, truly worthy of our pity, though i cannot shield you from the frowns of venus, yet i can teach you how best to allay her displeasure. go, then, and voluntarily surrender yourself to your lady and sovereign, and try by modesty and submission to win her forgiveness, and perhaps her favor will restore you the husband you have lost." psyche obeyed the commands of ceres and took her way to the temple of venus, endeavoring to fortify her mind and ruminating on what she should say and how best propitiate the angry goddess, feeling that the issue was doubtful and perhaps fatal. venus received her with angry countenance. "most undutiful and faithless of servants," said she, "do you at last remember that you really have a mistress? or have you rather come to see your sick husband, yet laid up of the wound given him by his loving wife? you are so ill-favored and disagreeable that the only way you can merit your lover must be by dint of industry and diligence. i will make trial of your housewifery." then she ordered psyche to be led to the storehouse of her temple, where was laid up a great quantity of wheat, barley, millet, vetches, beans, and lentils prepared for food for her pigeons, and said, "take and separate all these grains, putting all of the same kind in a parcel by themselves, and see that you get it done before evening." then venus departed and left her to her task. but psyche, in a perfect consternation at the enormous work, sat stupid and silent, without moving a finger to the inextricable heap. while she sat despairing, cupid stirred up the little ant, a native of the fields, to take compassion on her. the leader of the ant hill, followed by whole hosts of his six-legged subjects, approached the heap, and with the utmost diligence, taking grain by grain, they separated the pile, sorting each kind to its parcel; and when it was all done, they vanished out of sight in a moment. venus at the approach of twilight returned from the banquet of the gods, breathing odors and crowned with roses. seeing the task done, she exclaimed, "this is no work of yours, wicked one, but his, whom to your own and his misfortune you have enticed." so saying, she threw her a piece of black bread for her supper and went away. next morning venus ordered psyche to be called and said to her, "behold yonder grove which stretches along the margin of the water. there you will find sheep feeding without a shepherd, with golden-shining fleeces on their backs. go, fetch me a sample of that precious wool gathered from every one of their fleeces." psyche obediently went to the riverside, prepared to do her best to execute the command. but the river god inspired the reeds with harmonious murmurs, which seemed to say, "o maiden, severely tried, tempt not the dangerous flood, nor venture among the formidable rams on the other side, for as long as they are under the influence of the rising sun, they burn with a cruel rage to destroy mortals with their sharp horns or rude teeth. but when the noontide sun has driven the cattle to the shade, and the serene spirit of the flood has lulled them to rest, you may then cross in safety, and you will find the woolly gold sticking to the bushes and the trunks of the trees." thus the compassionate river god gave psyche instructions how to accomplish her task, and by observing his directions she soon returned to venus with her arms full of the golden fleece; but she received not the approbation of her implacable mistress, who said, "i know very well it is by none of your own doings that you have succeeded in this task, and i am not satisfied yet that you have any capacity to make yourself useful. but i have another task for you. here, take this box and go your way to the infernal shades, and give this box to proserpine and say, 'my mistress venus desires you to send her a little of your beauty, for in tending her sick son she has lost some of her own.' be not too long on your errand, for i must paint myself with it to appear at the circle of the gods and goddesses this evening." psyche was now satisfied that her destruction was at hand, being obliged to go with her own feet directly down to erebus. wherefore, to make no delay of what was not to be avoided, she goes to the top of a high tower to precipitate herself headlong, thus to descend the shortest way to the shades below. but a voice from the tower said to her, "why, poor unlucky girl, dost thou design to put an end to thy days in so dreadful a manner? and what cowardice makes thee sink under this last danger who hast been so miraculously supported in all thy former?" then the voice told her how by a certain cave she might reach the realms of pluto, and how to avoid all the dangers of the road, to pass by cerberus, the three-headed dog, and prevail on charon, the ferryman, to take her across the black river and bring her back again. but the voice added, "when proserpine has given you the box filled with her beauty, of all things this is chiefly to be observed by you, that you never once open or look into the box nor allow your curiosity to pry into the treasure of the beauty of the goddesses." psyche, encouraged by this advice, obeyed it in all things, and taking heed to her ways travelled safely to the kingdom of pluto. she was admitted to the palace of proserpine, and without accepting the delicate seat or delicious banquet that was offered her, but contented with coarse bread for her food, she delivered her message from venus. presently the box was returned to her, shut and filled with the precious commodity. then she returned the way she came, and glad was she to come out once more into the light of day. but having got so far successfully through her dangerous task, a longing desire seized her to examine the contents of the box. "what," said she, "shall i, the carrier of this divine beauty, not take the least bit to put on my cheeks to appear to more advantage in the eyes of my beloved husband!" so she carefully opened the box, but found nothing there of any beauty at all, but an infernal and truly stygian sleep, which being thus set free from its prison, took possession of her, and she fell down in the midst of the road, a sleepy corpse without sense or motion. but cupid, being now recovered from his wound, and not able longer to bear the absence of his beloved psyche, slipping through the smallest crack of the window of his chamber which happened to be left open, flew to the spot where psyche lay, and gathering up the sleep from her body closed it again in the box, and waked psyche with a light touch of one of his arrows. "again," said he, "hast thou almost perished by the same curiosity. but now perform exactly the task imposed on you by my mother, and i will take care of the rest." then cupid, as swift as lightning penetrating the heights of heaven, presented himself before jupiter with his supplication. jupiter lent a favoring ear, and pleaded the cause of the lovers so earnestly with venus that he won her consent. on this he sent mercury to bring psyche up to the heavenly assembly, and when she arrived, handing her a cup of ambrosia, he said, "drink this, psyche, and be immortal; nor shall cupid ever break away from the knot in which he is tied, but these nuptials shall be perpetual." thus psyche became at last united to cupid, and in due time they had a daughter born to them whose name was pleasure. the fable of cupid and psyche is usually considered allegorical. the greek name for a butterfly is psyche, and the same word means the soul. there is no illustration of the immortality of the soul so striking and beautiful as the butterfly, bursting on brilliant wings from the tomb in which it has lain, after a dull, grovelling, caterpillar existence, to flutter in the blaze of day and feed on the most fragrant and delicate productions of the spring. psyche, then, is the human soul, which is purified by sufferings and misfortunes, and is thus prepared for the enjoyment of true and pure happiness. in works of art psyche is represented as a maiden with the wings of a butterfly, along with cupid, in the different situations described in the allegory. milton alludes to the story of cupid and psyche in the conclusion of his "comus": "celestial cupid, her famed son, advanced, holds his dear psyche sweet entranced, after her wandering labors long, till free consent the gods among make her his eternal bride; and from her fair unspotted side two blissful twins are to be born, youth and joy; so jove hath sworn." the allegory of the story of cupid and psyche is well presented in the beautiful lines of t. k. harvey: "they wove bright fables in the days of old, when reason borrowed fancy's painted wings; when truth's clear river flowed o'er sands of gold, and told in song its high and mystic things! and such the sweet and solemn tale of her the pilgrim heart, to whom a dream was given, that led her through the world,--love's worshipper,-- to seek on earth for him whose home was heaven! "in the full city,--by the haunted fount,-- through the dim grotto's tracery of spars,-- 'mid the pine temples, on the moonlit mount, where silence sits to listen to the stars; in the deep glade where dwells the brooding dove, the painted valley, and the scented air, she heard far echoes of the voice of love, and found his footsteps' traces everywhere. "but nevermore they met since doubts and fears, those phantom shapes that haunt and blight the earth, had come 'twixt her, a child of sin and tears, and that bright spirit of immortal birth; until her pining soul and weeping eyes had learned to seek him only in the skies; till wings unto the weary heart were given, and she became love's angel bride in heaven!" the story of cupid and psyche first appears in the works of apuleius, a writer of the second century of our era. it is therefore of much more recent date than most of the legends of the age of fable. it is this that keats alludes to in his "ode to psyche": "o latest born and loveliest vision far of all olympus' faded hierarchy! fairer than phoebe's sapphire-regioned star or vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky; fairer than these, though temple thou hast none, nor altar heaped with flowers; nor virgin choir to make delicious moan upon the midnight hours; no voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet, from chain-swung censor teeming; no shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming." in moore's "summer fete" a fancy ball is described, in which one of the characters personated is psyche-- "... not in dark disguise to-night hath our young heroine veiled her light;-- for see, she walks the earth, love's own. his wedded bride, by holiest vow pledged in olympus, and made known to mortals by the type which now hangs glittering on her snowy brow. that butterfly, mysterious trinket, which means the soul, (though few would think it,) and sparkling thus on brow so white tells us we've psyche here to-night." chapter xii cadmus--the myrmidons jupiter, under the disguise of a bull, had carried away europa, the daughter of agenor, king of phoenicia. agenor commanded his son cadmus to go in search of his sister, and not to return without her. cadmus went and sought long and far for his sister, but could not find her, and not daring to return unsuccessful, consulted the oracle of apollo to know what country he should settle in. the oracle informed him that he should find a cow in the field, and should follow her wherever she might wander, and where she stopped, should build a city and call it thebes. cadmus had hardly left the castalian cave, from which the oracle was delivered, when he saw a young cow slowly walking before him. he followed her close, offering at the same time his prayers to phoebus. the cow went on till she passed the shallow channel of cephisus and came out into the plain of panope. there she stood still, and raising her broad forehead to the sky, filled the air with her lowings. cadmus gave thanks, and stooping down kissed the foreign soil, then lifting his eyes, greeted the surrounding mountains. wishing to offer a sacrifice to jupiter, he sent his servants to seek pure water for a libation. near by there stood an ancient grove which had never been profaned by the axe, in the midst of which was a cave, thick covered with the growth of bushes, its roof forming a low arch, from beneath which burst forth a fountain of purest water. in the cave lurked a horrid serpent with a crested head and scales glittering like gold. his eyes shone like fire, his body was swollen with venom, he vibrated a triple tongue, and showed a triple row of teeth. no sooner had the tyrians dipped their pitchers in the fountain, and the in- gushing waters made a sound, than the glittering serpent raised his head out of the cave and uttered a fearful hiss. the vessels fell from their hands, the blood left their cheeks, they trembled in every limb. the serpent, twisting his scaly body in a huge coil, raised his head so as to overtop the tallest trees, and while the tyrians from terror could neither fight nor fly, slew some with his fangs, others in his folds, and others with his poisonous breath. cadmus, having waited for the return of his men till midday, went in search of them. his covering was a lion's hide, and besides his javelin he carried in his hand a lance, and in his breast a bold heart, a surer reliance than either. when he entered the wood, and saw the lifeless bodies of his men, and the monster with his bloody jaws, he exclaimed, "o faithful friends, i will avenge you, or share your death." so saying he lifted a huge stone and threw it with all his force at the serpent. such a block would have shaken the wall of a fortress, but it made no impression on the monster. cadmus next threw his javelin, which met with better success, for it penetrated the serpent's scales, and pierced through to his entrails. fierce with pain, the monster turned back his head to view the wound, and attempted to draw out the weapon with his mouth, but broke it off, leaving the iron point rankling in his flesh. his neck swelled with rage, bloody foam covered his jaws, and the breath of his nostrils poisoned the air around. now he twisted himself into a circle, then stretched himself out on the ground like the trunk of a fallen tree. as he moved onward, cadmus retreated before him, holding his spear opposite to the monster's opened jaws. the serpent snapped at the weapon and attempted to bite its iron point. at last cadmus, watching his chance, thrust the spear at a moment when the animal's head thrown back came against the trunk of a tree, and so succeeded in pinning him to its side. his weight bent the tree as he struggled in the agonies of death. while cadmus stood over his conquered foe, contemplating its vast size, a voice was heard (from whence he knew not, but he heard it distinctly) commanding him to take the dragon's teeth and sow them in the earth. he obeyed. he made a furrow in the ground, and planted the teeth, destined to produce a crop of men. scarce had he done so when the clods began to move, and the points of spears to appear above the surface. next helmets with their nodding plumes came up, and next the shoulders and breasts and limbs of men with weapons, and in time a harvest of armed warriors. cadmus, alarmed, prepared to encounter a new enemy, but one of them said to him, "meddle not with our civil war." with that he who had spoken smote one of his earth-born brothers with a sword, and he himself fell pierced with an arrow from another. the latter fell victim to a fourth, and in like manner the whole crowd dealt with each other till all fell, slain with mutual wounds, except five survivors. one of these cast away his weapons and said, "brothers, let us live in peace!" these five joined with cadmus in building his city, to which they gave the name of thebes. cadmus obtained in marriage harmonia, the daughter of venus. the gods left olympus to honor the occasion with their presence, and vulcan presented the bride with a necklace of surpassing brilliancy, his own workmanship. but a fatality hung over the family of cadmus in consequence of his killing the serpent sacred to mars. semele and ino, his daughters, and actaeon and pentheus, his grandchildren, all perished unhappily, and cadmus and harmonia quitted thebes, now grown odious to them, and emigrated to the country of the enchelians, who received them with honor and made cadmus their king. but the misfortunes of their children still weighed upon their minds; and one day cadmus exclaimed, "if a serpent's life is so dear to the gods, i would i were myself a serpent." no sooner had he uttered the words than he began to change his form. harmonia beheld it and prayed to the gods to let her share his fate. both became serpents. they live in the woods, but mindful of their origin, they neither avoid the presence of man nor do they ever injure any one. there is a tradition that cadmus introduced into greece the letters of the alphabet which were invented by the phoenicians. this is alluded to by byron, where, addressing the modern greeks, he says: "you have the letters cadmus gave, think you he meant them for a slave?" milton, describing the serpent which tempted eve, is reminded of the serpents of the classical stories and says: ... "--pleasing was his shape, and lovely never since of serpent kind lovelier; not those that in illyria changed hermione and cadmus, nor the god in epidaurus" for an explanation of the last allusion, see oracle of aesculapius, p. . the myrmidons the myrmidons were the soldiers of achilles, in the trojan war. from them all zealous and unscrupulous followers of a political chief are called by that name, down to this day. but the origin of the myrmidons would not give one the idea of a fierce and bloody race, but rather of a laborious and peaceful one. cephalus, king of athens, arrived in the island of aegina to seek assistance of his old friend and ally aeacus, the king, in his war with minos, king of crete. cephalus was most kindly received, and the desired assistance readily promised. "i have people enough," said aeacus, "to protect myself and spare you such a force as you need." "i rejoice to see it," replied cephalus, "and my wonder has been raised, i confess, to find such a host of youths as i see around me, all apparently of about the same age. yet there are many individuals whom i previously knew, that i look for now in vain. what has become of them?" aeacus groaned, and replied with a voice of sadness, "i have been intending to tell you, and will now do so, without more delay, that you may see how from the saddest beginning a happy result sometimes flows. those whom you formerly knew are now dust and ashes! a plague sent by angry juno devastated the land. she hated it because it bore the name of one of her husband's female favorites. while the disease appeared to spring from natural causes we resisted it, as we best might, by natural remedies; but it soon appeared that the pestilence was too powerful for our efforts, and we yielded. at the beginning the sky seemed to settle down upon the earth, and thick clouds shut in the heated air. for four months together a deadly south wind prevailed. the disorder affected the wells and springs; thousands of snakes crept over the land and shed their poison in the fountains. the force of the disease was first spent on the lower animals--dogs, cattle, sheep, and birds the luckless ploughman wondered to see his oxen fall in the midst of their work, and lie helpless in the unfinished furrow. the wool fell from the bleating sheep, and their bodies pined away. the horse, once foremost in the race, contested the palm no more, but groaned at his stall and died an inglorious death. the wild boar forgot his rage, the stag his swiftness, the bears no longer attacked the herds. everything languished; dead bodies lay in the roads, the fields, and the woods; the air was poisoned by them, i tell you what is hardly credible, but neither dogs nor birds would touch them, nor starving wolves. their decay spread the infection. next the disease attacked the country people, and then the dwellers in the city. at first the cheek was flushed, and the breath drawn with difficulty. the tongue grew rough and swelled, and the dry mouth stood open with its veins enlarged and gasped for the air. men could not bear the heat of their clothes or their beds, but preferred to lie on the bare ground; and the ground did not cool them, but, on the contrary, they heated the spot where they lay. nor could the physicians help, for the disease attacked them also, and the contact of the sick gave them infection, so that the most faithful were the first victims. at last all hope of relief vanished, and men learned to look upon death as the only deliverer from disease. then they gave way to every inclination, and cared not to ask what was expedient, for nothing was expedient. all restraint laid aside, they crowded around the wells and fountains and drank till they died, without quenching thirst. many had not strength to get away from the water, but died in the midst of the stream, and others would drink of it notwithstanding. such was their weariness of their sick beds that some would creep forth, and if not strong enough to stand, would die on the ground. they seemed to hate their friends, and got away from their homes, as if, not knowing the cause of their sickness, they charged it on the place of their abode. some were seen tottering along the road, as long as they could stand, while others sank on the earth, and turned their dying eyes around to take a last look, then closed them in death. "what heart had i left me, during all this, or what ought i to have had, except to hate life and wish to be with my dead subjects? on all sides lay my people strewn like over-ripened apples beneath the tree, or acorns under the storm-shaken oak. you see yonder a temple on the height. it is sacred to jupiter. o how many offered prayers there, husbands for wives, fathers for sons, and died in the very act of supplication! how often, while the priest made ready for sacrifice, the victim fell, struck down by disease without waiting for the blow! at length all reverence for sacred things was lost. bodies were thrown out unburied, wood was wanting for funeral piles, men fought with one another for the possession of them. finally there were none left to mourn; sons and husbands, old men and youths, perished alike unlamented. "standing before the altar i raised my eyes to heaven. 'o jupiter,' i said, 'if thou art indeed my father, and art not ashamed of thy offspring, give me back my people, or take me also away!' at these words a clap of thunder was heard. 'i accept the omen,' i cried; 'o may it be a sign of a favorable disposition towards me!' by chance there grew by the place where i stood an oak with wide-spreading branches, sacred to jupiter. i observed a troop of ants busy with their labor, carrying minute grains in their mouths and following one another in a line up the trunk of the tree. observing their numbers with admiration, i said, 'give me, o father, citizens as numerous as these, and replenish my empty city.' the tree shook and gave a rustling sound with its branches, though no wind agitated them. i trembled in every limb, yet i kissed the earth and the tree. i would not confess to myself that i hoped, yet i did hope. night came on and sleep took possession of my frame oppressed with cares. the tree stood before me in my dreams, with its numerous branches all covered with living, moving creatures. it seemed to shake its limbs and throw down over the ground a multitude of those industrious grain- gathering animals, which appeared to gain in size, and grow larger and larger, and by and by to stand erect, lay aside their superfluous legs and their black color, and finally to assume the human form. then i awoke, and my first impulse was to chide the gods who had robbed me of a sweet vision and given me no reality in its place. being still in the temple, my attention was caught by the sound of many voices without; a sound of late unusual to my ears. while i began to think i was yet dreaming, telamon, my son, throwing open the temple gates, exclaimed: 'father, approach, and behold things surpassing even your hopes!' i went forth; i saw a multitude of men, such as i had seen in my dream, and they were passing in procession in the same manner. while i gazed with wonder and delight they approached and kneeling hailed me as their king. i paid my vows to jove, and proceeded to allot the vacant city to the new-born race, and to parcel out the fields among them i called them myrmidons, from the ant (myrmex) from which they sprang. you have seen these persons; their dispositions resemble those which they had in their former shape. they are a diligent and industrious race, eager to gain, and tenacious of their gains. among them you may recruit your forces. they will follow you to the war, young in years and bold in heart." this description of the plague is copied by ovid from the account which thucydides, the greek historian, gives of the plague of athens. the historian drew from life, and all the poets and writers of fiction since his day, when they have had occasion to describe a similar scene, have borrowed their details from him. chapter xiii nisus and scylla--echo and narcissus--clytie--hero and leander nisus and scylla minos, king of crete, made war upon megara. nisus was king of megara, and scylla was his daughter. the siege had now lasted six months and the city still held out, for it was decreed by fate that it should not be taken so long as a certain purple lock, which glittered among the hair of king nisus, remained on his head. there was a tower on the city walls, which overlooked the plain where minos and his army were encamped. to this tower scylla used to repair, and look abroad over the tents of the hostile army. the siege had lasted so long that she had learned to distinguish the persons of the leaders. minos, in particular, excited her admiration. arrayed in his helmet, and bearing his shield, she admired his graceful deportment; if he threw his javelin skill seemed combined with force in the discharge; if he drew his bow apollo himself could not have done it more gracefully. but when he laid aside his helmet, and in his purple robes bestrode his white horse with its gay caparisons, and reined in its foaming mouth, the daughter of nisus was hardly mistress of herself; she was almost frantic with admiration. she envied the weapon that he grasped, the reins that he held. she felt as if she could, if it were possible, go to him through the hostile ranks; she felt an impulse to cast herself down from the tower into the midst of his camp, or to open the gates to him, or to do anything else, so only it might gratify minos. as she sat in the tower, she talked thus with herself: "i know not whether to rejoice or grieve at this sad war. i grieve that minos is our enemy; but i rejoice at any cause that brings him to my sight. perhaps he would be willing to grant us peace, and receive me as a hostage. i would fly down, if i could, and alight in his camp, and tell him that we yield ourselves to his mercy. but then, to betray my father! no! rather would i never see minos again. and yet no doubt it is sometimes the best thing for a city to be conquered, when the conqueror is clement and generous. minos certainly has right on his side. i think we shall be conquered; and if that must be the end of it, why should not love unbar the gates to him, instead of leaving it to be done by war? better spare delay and slaughter if we can. and o if any one should wound or kill minos! no one surely would have the heart to do it; yet ignorantly, not knowing him, one might. i will, i will surrender myself to him, with my country as a dowry, and so put an end to the war. but how? the gates are guarded, and my father keeps the keys; he only stands in my way. o that it might please the gods to take him away! but why ask the gods to do it? another woman, loving as i do, would remove with her own hands whatever stood in the way of her love. and can any other woman dare more than i? i would encounter fire and sword to gain my object; but here there is no need of fire and sword. i only need my father's purple lock. more precious than gold to me, that will give me all i wish." while she thus reasoned night came on, and soon the whole palace was buried in sleep. she entered her father's bedchamber and cut off the fatal lock; then passed out of the city and entered the enemy's camp. she demanded to be led to the king, and thus addressed him: "i am scylla, the daughter of nisus. i surrender to you my country and my father's house. i ask no reward but yourself; for love of you i have done it. see here the purple lock! with this i give you my father and his kingdom." she held out her hand with the fatal spoil. minos shrunk back and refused to touch it. "the gods destroy thee, infamous woman," he exclaimed; "disgrace of our time! may neither earth nor sea yield thee a resting-place! surely, my crete, where jove himself was cradled, shall not be polluted with such a monster!" thus he said, and gave orders that equitable terms should be allowed to the conquered city, and that the fleet should immediately sail from the island. scylla was frantic. "ungrateful man," she exclaimed, "is it thus you leave me?--me who have given you victory,--who have sacrificed for you parent and country! i am guilty, i confess, and deserve to die, but not by your hand." as the ships left the shore, she leaped into the water, and seizing the rudder of the one which carried minos, she was borne along an unwelcome companion of their course. a sea-eagle ing aloft,--it was her father who had been changed into that form,--seeing her, pounced down upon her, and struck her with his beak and claws. in terror she let go the ship and would have fallen into the water, but some pitying deity changed her into a bird. the sea-eagle still cherishes the old animosity; and whenever he espies her in his lofty flight you may see him dart down upon her, with beak and claws, to take vengeance for the ancient crime. echo and narcissus echo was a beautiful nymph, fond of the woods and hills, where she devoted herself to woodland sports. she was a favorite of diana, and attended her in the chase. but echo had one failing; she was fond of talking, and whether in chat or argument, would have the last word. one day juno was seeking her husband, who, she had reason to fear, was amusing himself among the nymphs. echo by her talk contrived to detain the goddess till the nymphs made their escape. when juno discovered it, she passed sentence upon echo in these words: "you shall forfeit the use of that tongue with which you have cheated me, except for that one purpose you are so fond of--reply. you shall still have the last word, but no power to speak first." this nymph saw narcissus, a beautiful youth, as he pursued the chase upon the mountains. she loved him, and followed his footsteps. o how she longed to address him in the softest accents, and win him to converse! but it was not in her power. she waited with impatience for him to speak first, and had her answer ready. one day the youth, being separated from his companions, shouted aloud, "who's here?" echo replied, "here." narcissus looked around, but seeing no one called out, "come." echo answered, "come." as no one came, narcissus called again, "why do you shun me?" echo asked the same question. "let us join one another," said the youth. the maid answered with all her heart in the same words, and hastened to the spot, ready to throw her arms about his neck. he started back, exclaiming, "hands off! i would rather die than you should have me!" "have me," said she; but it was all in vain. he left her, and she went to hide her blushes in the recesses of the woods. from that time forth she lived in caves and among mountain cliffs. her form faded with grief, till at last all her flesh shrank away. her bones were changed into rocks and there was nothing left of her but her voice. with that she is still ready to reply to any one who calls her, and keeps up her old habit of having the last word. narcissus's cruelty in this case was not the only instance. he shunned all the rest of the nymphs, as he had done poor echo. one day a maiden who had in vain endeavored to attract him uttered a prayer that he might some time or other feel what it was to love and meet no return of affection. the avenging goddess heard and granted the prayer. there was a clear fountain, with water like silver, to which the shepherds never drove their flocks, nor the mountain goats resorted, nor any of the beasts of the forest; neither was it defaced with fallen leaves or branches; but the grass grew fresh around it, and the rocks sheltered it from the sun. hither came one day the youth, fatigued with hunting, heated and thirsty. he stooped down to drink, and saw his own image in the water; he thought it was some beautiful water-spirit living in the fountain. he stood gazing with admiration at those bright eyes, those locks curled like the locks of bacchus or apollo, the rounded cheeks, the ivory neck, the parted lips, and the glow of health and exercise over all. he fell in love with himself. he brought his lips near to take a kiss; he plunged his arms in to embrace the beloved object. it fled at the touch, but returned again after a moment and renewed the fascination. he could not tear himself away; he lost all thought of food or rest, while he hovered over the brink of the fountain gazing upon his own image. he talked with the supposed spirit: "why, beautiful being, do you shun me? surely my face is not one to repel you. the nymphs love me, and you yourself look not indifferent upon me. when i stretch forth my arms you do the same; and you smile upon me and answer my beckonings with the like." his tears fell into the water and disturbed the image. as he saw it depart, he exclaimed, "stay, i entreat you! let me at least gaze upon you, if i may not touch you." with this, and much more of the same kind, he cherished the flame that consumed him, so that by degrees he lost his color, his vigor, and the beauty which formerly had so charmed the nymph echo. she kept near him, however, and when he exclaimed, "alas! alas!" she answered him with the same words. he pined away and died; and when his shade passed the stygian river, it leaned over the boat to catch a look of itself in the waters. the nymphs mourned for him, especially the water-nymphs; and when they smote their breasts echo smote hers also. they prepared a funeral pile and would have burned the body, but it was nowhere to be found; but in its place a flower, purple within, and surrounded with white leaves, which bears the name and preserves the memory of narcissus. milton alludes to the story of echo and narcissus in the lady's song in "comus." she is seeking her brothers in the forest, and sings to attract their attention: "sweet echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen within thy aery shell by slow meander's margent green, and in the violet-embroidered vale, where the love-lorn nightingale nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well; canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair that likest thy narcissus are? o, if thou have hid them in some flowery cave, tell me but where, sweet queen of parly, daughter of the sphere, so may'st thou be translated to the skies, and give resounding grace to all heaven's harmonies." milton has imitated the story of narcissus in the account which he makes eve give of the first sight of herself reflected in the fountain: "that day i oft remember when from sleep i first awaked, and found myself reposed under a shade on flowers, much wondering where and what i was, whence thither brought, and how. not distant far from thence a murmuring sound of waters issued from a cave, and spread into a liquid plain, then stood unmoved pure as the expanse of heaven; i thither went with unexperienced thought, and laid me down on the green bank, to look into the clear smooth lake that to me seemed another sky. as i bent down to look, just opposite a shape within the watery gleam appeared, bending to look on me. i started back; it started back; but pleased i soon returned, pleased it returned as soon with answering looks of sympathy and love. there had i fixed mine eyes till now, and pined wi vain desire, had not a voice thus warned me: 'what thou seest, what there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself;'" etc. --paradise lost, book iv. no one of the fables of antiquity has been oftener alluded to by the poets than that of narcissus. here are two epigrams which treat it in different ways. the first is by goldsmith: "on a beautiful youth, struck blind by lightning "sure 'twas by providence designed, rather in pity than in hate, that he should be like cupid blind, to save him from narcissus' fate." the other is by cowper: "on an ugly fellow "beware, my friend, of crystal brook or fountain, lest that hideous hook, thy nose, thou chance to see; narcissus' fate would then be thine, and self-detested thou would'st pine, as self-enamoured he." clytie clytie was a water-nymph and in love with apollo, who made her no return. so she pined away, sitting all day long upon the cold ground, with her unbound tresses streaming over her shoulders. nine days she sat and tasted neither food nor drink, her own tears and the chilly dew her only food. she gazed on the sun when he rose, and as he passed through his daily course to his setting; she saw no other object, her face turned constantly on him. at last, they say, her limbs rooted in the ground, her face became a flower [footnote: the sunflower.] which turns on its stem so as always to face the sun throughout its daily course; for it retains to that extent the feeling of the nymph from whom it sprang. hood, in his "flowers," thus alludes to clytie: "i will not have the mad clytie, whose head is turned by the sun; the tulip is a courtly quean, whom therefore i will shun; the cowslip is a country wench, the violet is a nun;-- but i will woo the dainty rose, the queen of every one." the sunflower is a favorite emblem of constancy. thus moore uses it: "the heart that has truly loved never forgets, but as truly loves on to the close; as the sunflower turns on her god when he sets the same look that she turned when he rose." hero and leander leander was a youth of abydos, a town of the asian side of the strait which separates asia and europe. on the opposite shore, in the town of sestos, lived the maiden hero, a priestess of venus. leander loved her, and used to swim the strait nightly to enjoy the company of his mistress, guided by a torch which she reared upon the tower for the purpose. but one night a tempest arose and the sea was rough; his strength failed, and he was drowned. the waves bore his body to the european shore, where hero became aware of his death, and in her despair cast herself down from the tower into the sea and perished. the following sonnet is by keats: "on a picture of leander "come hither all sweet maidens soberly, down looking aye, and with a chasten'd light hid in the fringes of your eyelids white, and meekly let your fair hands joined be as if so gentle that ye could not see, untouch'd, a victim of your beauty bright, sinking away to his young spirit's night, sinking bewilder'd'mid the dreary sea. 'tis young leander toiling to his death nigh swooning he doth purse his weary lips for hero's cheek, and smiles against her smile o horrid dream! see how his body dips dead-heavy; arms and shoulders gleam awhile; he's gone; up bubbles all his amorous breath!" the story of leander's swimming the hellespont was looked upon as fabulous, and the feat considered impossible, till lord byron proved its possibility by performing it himself. in the "bride of abydos" he says, "these limbs that buoyant wave hath borne." the distance in the narrowest part is almost a mile, and there is a constant current setting out from the sea of marmora into the archipelago. since byron's time the feat has been achieved by others; but it yet remains a test of strength and skill in the art of swimming sufficient to give a wide and lasting celebrity to any one of our readers who may dare to make the attempt and succeed in accomplishing it. in the beginning of the second canto of the same poem, byron thus alludes to this story: "the winds are high on helle's wave, as on that night of stormiest water, when love, who sent, forgot to save the young, the beautiful, the brave, the lonely hope of sestos' daughter. o, when alone along the sky the turret-torch was blazing high, though rising gale and breaking foam, and shrieking sea-birds warned him home; and clouds aloft and tides below, with signs and sounds forbade to go, he could not see, he would not hear or sound or sight foreboding fear. his eye but saw that light of love, the only star it hailed above; his ear but rang with hero's song, 'ye waves, divide not lovers long.' that tale is old, but love anew may nerve young hearts to prove as true." chapter xiv minerva--niobe minerva minerva, the goddess of wisdom, was the daughter of jupiter. she was said to have leaped forth from his brain, mature, and in complete armor. she presided over the useful and ornamental arts, both those of men--such as agriculture and navigation--and those of women,--spinning, weaving, and needlework. she was also a warlike divinity; but it was defensive war only that she patronized, and she had no sympathy with mars's savage love of violence and bloodshed. athens was her chosen seat, her own city, awarded to her as the prize of a contest with neptune, who also aspired to it. the tale ran that in the reign of cecrops, the first king of athens, the two deities contended for the possession of the city. the gods decreed that it should be awarded to that one who produced the gift most useful to mortals. neptune gave the horse; minerva produced the olive. the gods gave judgment that the olive was the more useful of the two, and awarded the city to the goddess; and it was named after her, athens, her name in greek being athene. there was another contest, in which a mortal dared to come in competition with minerva. that mortal was arachne, a maiden who had attained such skill in the arts of weaving and embroidery that the nymphs themselves would leave their groves and fountains to come and gaze upon her work. it was not only beautiful when it was done, but beautiful also in the doing. to watch her, as she took the wool in its rude state and formed it into rolls, or separated it with her fingers and carded it till it looked as light and soft as a cloud, or twirled the spindle with skilful touch, or wove the web, or, after it was woven, adorned it with her needle, one would have said that minerva herself had taught her. but this she denied, and could not bear to be thought a pupil even of a goddess. "let minerva try her skill with mine," said she; "if beaten i will pay the penalty." minerva heard this and was displeased. she assumed the form of an old woman and went and gave arachne some friendly advice "i have had much experience," said she, "and i hope you will not despise my counsel. challenge your fellow-mortals as you will, but do not compete with a goddess. on the contrary, i advise you to ask her forgiveness for what you have said, and as she is merciful perhaps she will pardon you." arachne stopped her spinning and looked at the old dame with anger in her countenance. "keep your counsel," said she, "for your daughters or handmaids; for my part i know what i say, and i stand to it. i am not afraid of the goddess; let her try her skill, if she dare venture." "she comes," said minerva; and dropping her disguise stood confessed. the nymphs bent low in homage, and all the bystanders paid reverence. arachne alone was unterrified. she blushed, indeed; a sudden color dyed her cheek, and then she grew pale. but she stood to her resolve, and with a foolish conceit of her own skill rushed on her fate. minerva forbore no longer nor interposed any further advice. they proceed to the contest. each takes her station and attaches the web to the beam. then the slender shuttle is passed in and out among the threads. the reed with its fine teeth strikes up the woof into its place and compacts the web. both work with speed; their skilful hands move rapidly, and the excitement of the contest makes the labor light. wool of tyrian dye is contrasted with that of other colors, shaded off into one another so adroitly that the joining deceives the eye. like the bow, whose long arch tinges the heavens, formed by sunbeams reflected from the shower, [footnote: this correct description of the rainbow is literally translated from ovid.] in which, where the colors meet they seem as one, but at a little distance from the point of contact are wholly different. minerva wrought on her web the scene of her contest with neptune. twelve of the heavenly powers are represented, jupiter, with august gravity, sitting in the midst. neptune, the ruler of the sea, holds his trident, and appears to have just smitten the earth, from which a horse has leaped forth. minerva depicted herself with helmed head, her aegis covering her breast. such was the central circle; and in the four corners were represented incidents illustrating the displeasure of the gods at such presumptuous mortals as had dared to contend with them. these were meant as warnings to her rival to give up the contest before it was too late. arachne filled her web with subjects designedly chosen to exhibit the failings and errors of the gods. one scene represented leda caressing the swan, under which form jupiter had disguised himself; and another, danae, in the brazen tower in which her father had imprisoned her, but where the god effected his entrance in the form of a golden shower. still another depicted europa deceived by jupiter under the disguise of a bull. encouraged by the tameness of the animal europa ventured to mount his back, whereupon jupiter advanced into the sea and swam with her to crete. you would have thought it was a real bull, so naturally was it wrought, and so natural the water in which it swam. she seemed to look with longing eyes back upon the shore she was leaving, and to call to her companions for help. she appeared to shudder with terror at the sight of the heaving waves, and to draw back her feet from the water. arachne filled her canvas with similar subjects, wonderfully well done, but strongly marking her presumption and impiety. minerva could not forbear to admire, yet felt indignant at the insult. she struck the web with her shuttle and rent it in pieces, she then touched the forehead of arachne and made her feel her guilt and shame. she could not endure it and went and hanged herself. minerva pitied her as she saw her suspended by a rope. "live," she said, "guilty woman! and that you may preserve the memory of this lesson, continue to hang, both you and your descendants, to all future times." she sprinkled her with the juices of aconite, and immediately her hair came off, and her nose and ears likewise. her form shrank up, and her head grew smaller yet; her fingers cleaved to her side and served for legs. all the rest of her is body, out of which she spins her thread, often hanging suspended by it, in the same attitude as when minerva touched her and transformed her into a spider. spenser tells the story of arachne in his "muiopotmos," adhering very closely to his master ovid, but improving upon him in the conclusion of the story. the two stanzas which follow tell what was done after the goddess had depicted her creation of the olive tree: "amongst these leaves she made a butterfly, with excellent device and wondrous slight, fluttering among the olives wantonly, that seemed to live, so like it was in sight; the velvet nap which on his wings doth lie, the silken down with which his back is dight, his broad outstretched horns, his hairy thighs, his glorious colors, and his glistening eyes." "which when arachne saw, as overlaid and mastered with workmanship so rare, she stood astonied long, ne aught gainsaid; and with fast-fixed eyes on her did stare and by her silence, sign of one dismayed, the victory did yield her as her share; yet did she inly fret and felly burn, and all her blood to poisonous rancor turn." [footnote: sir james mackintosh says of this, "do you think that even a chinese could paint the gay colors of a butterfly with more minute exactness than the following lines: 'the velvet nap,' etc.?"--life, vol. ii, .] and so the metamorphosis is caused by arachne's own mortification and vexation, and not by any direct act of the goddess. the following specimen of old-fashioned gallantry is by garrick: "upon a lady's embroidery "arachne once, as poets tell, a goddess at her art defied, and soon the daring mortal fell the hapless victim of her pride. "o, then beware arachne's fate; be prudent, chloe, and submit, for you'll most surely meet her hate, who rival both her art and wit." tennyson, in his "palace of art," describing the works of art with which the palace was adorned, thus alludes to europa: "... sweet europa's mantle blew unclasped from off her shoulder, backward borne, from one hand drooped a crocus, one hand grasped the mild bull's golden horn." in his "princess" there is this allusion to danae: "now lies the earth all danae to the stars, and all thy heart lies open unto me." niobe the fate of arachne was noised abroad through all the country, and served as a warning to all presumptuous mortals not to compare themselves with the divinities. but one, and she a matron too, failed to learn the lesson of humility. it was niobe, the queen of thebes. she had indeed much to be proud of; but it was not her husband's fame, nor her own beauty, nor their great descent, nor the power of their kingdom that elated her. it was her children; and truly the happiest of mothers would niobe have been if only she had not claimed to be so. it was on occasion of the annual celebration in honor of latona and her offspring, apollo and diana,--when the people of thebes were assembled, their brows crowned with laurel, bearing frankincense to the altars and paying their vows,--that niobe appeared among the crowd. her attire was splendid with gold and gems, and her aspect beautiful as the face of an angry woman can be. she stood and surveyed the people with haughty looks. "what folly," said she, "is this!--to prefer beings whom you never saw to those who stand before your eyes! why should latona be honored with worship, and none be paid to me? my father was tantalus, who was received as a guest at the table of the gods; my mother was a goddess. my husband built and rules this city, thebes, and phrygia is my paternal inheritance. wherever i turn my eyes i survey the elements of my power; nor is my form and presence unworthy of a goddess. to all this let me add i have seven sons and seven daughters, and look for sons-in-law and daughters-in-law of pretensions worthy of my alliance. have i not cause for pride? will you prefer to me this latona, the titan's daughter, with her two children? i have seven times as many. fortunate indeed am i, and fortunate i shall remain! will any one deny this? my abundance is my security. i feel myself too strong for fortune to subdue. she may take from me much; i shall still have much left. were i to lose some of my children, i should hardly be left as poor as latona with her two only. away with you from these solemnities,--put off the laurel from your brows,--have done with this worship!" the people obeyed, and left the sacred services uncompleted. the goddess was indignant. on the cynthian mountain top where she dwelt she thus addressed her son and daughter: "my children, i who have been so proud of you both, and have been used to hold myself second to none of the goddesses except juno alone, begin now to doubt whether i am indeed a goddess. i shall be deprived of my worship altogether unless you protect me." she was proceeding in this strain, but apollo interrupted her. "say no more," said he; "speech only delays punishment." so said diana also. darting through the air, veiled in clouds, they alighted on the towers of the city. spread out before the gates was a broad plain, where the youth of the city pursued their warlike sports. the sons of niobe were there with the rest,--some mounted on spirited horses richly caparisoned, some driving gay chariots. ismenos, the first-born, as he guided his foaming steeds, struck with an arrow from above, cried out, "ah me!" dropped the reins, and fell lifeless. another, hearing the sound of the bow,--like a boatman who sees the storm gathering and makes all sail for the port,--gave the reins to his horses and attempted to escape. the inevitable arrow overtook him as he fled. two others, younger boys, just from their tasks, had gone to the playground to have a game of wrestling. as they stood breast to breast, one arrow pierced them both. they uttered a cry together, together cast a parting look around them, and together breathed their last. alphenor, an elder brother, seeing them fall, hastened to the spot to render assistance, and fell stricken in the act of brotherly duty. one only was left, ilioneus. he raised his arms to heaven to try whether prayer might not avail. "spare me, ye gods!" he cried, addressing all, in his ignorance that all needed not his intercessions; and apollo would have spared him, but the arrow had already left the string, and it was too late. the terror of the people and grief of the attendants soon made niobe acquainted with what had taken place. she could hardly think it possible; she was indignant that the gods had dared and amazed that they had been able to do it. her husband, amphion, overwhelmed with the blow, destroyed himself. alas! how different was this niobe from her who had so lately driven away the people from the sacred rites, and held her stately course through the city, the envy of her friends, now the pity even of her foes! she knelt over the lifeless bodies, and kissed now one, now another of her dead sons. raising her pallid arms to heaven, "cruel latona," said she, "feed full your rage with my anguish! satiate your hard heart, while i follow to the grave my seven sons. yet where is your triumph? bereaved as i am, i am still richer than you, my conqueror." scarce had she spoken, when the bow sounded and struck terror into all hearts except niobe's alone. she was brave from excess of grief. the sisters stood in garments of mourning over the biers of their dead brothers. one fell, struck by an arrow, and died on the corpse she was bewailing. another, attempting to console her mother, suddenly ceased to speak, and sank lifeless to the earth. a third tried to escape by flight, a fourth by concealment, another stood trembling, uncertain what course to take. six were now dead, and only one remained, whom the mother held clasped in her arms, and covered as it were with her whole body. "spare me one, and that the youngest! o spare me one of so many!" she cried; and while she spoke, that one fell dead. desolate she sat, among sons, daughters, husband, all dead, and seemed torpid with grief. the breeze moved not her hair, no color was on her cheek, her eyes glared fixed and immovable, there was no sign of life about her. her very tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth, and her veins ceased to convey the tide of life. her neck bent not, her arms made no gesture, her foot no step. she was changed to stone, within and without. yet tears continued to flow; and borne on a whirlwind to her native mountain, she still remains, a mass of rock, from which a trickling stream flows, the tribute of her never-ending grief. the story of niobe has furnished byron with a fine illustration of the fallen condition of modern rome: "the niobe of nations! there she stands, childless and crownless in her voiceless woe; an empty urn within her withered hands, whose holy dust was scattered long ago; the scipios' tomb contains no ashes now: the very sepulchres lie tenantless of their heroic dwellers; dost thou flow, old tiber! through a marble wilderness? rise with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress." childe harold, iv. . this affecting story has been made the subject of a celebrated statue in the imperial gallery of florence. it is the principal figure of a group supposed to have been originally arranged in the pediment of a temple. the figure of the mother clasped by the arm of her terrified child is one of the most admired of the ancient statues. it ranks with the laocoon and the apollo among the masterpieces of art. the following is a translation of a greek epigram supposed to relate to this statue: "to stone the gods have changed her, but in vain; the sculptor's art has made her breathe again." tragic as is the story of niobe, we cannot forbear to smile at the use moore has made of it in "rhymes on the road": "'twas in his carriage the sublime sir richard blackmore used to rhyme, and, if the wits don't do him wrong, 'twixt death and epics passed his time, scribbling and killing all day long; like phoebus in his car at ease, now warbling forth a lofty song, now murdering the young niobes." sir richard blackmore was a physician, and at the same time a very prolific and very tasteless poet, whose works are now forgotten, unless when recalled to mind by some wit like moore for the sake of a joke. chapter xv the graeae or gray-maids--perseus--medusa--atlas--andromeda the graeae and the gorgons the graeae were three sisters who were gray-haired from their birth, whence their name. the gorgons were monstrous females with huge teeth like those of swine, brazen claws, and snaky hair. none of these beings make much figure in mythology except medusa, the gorgon, whose story we shall next advert to. we mention them chiefly to introduce an ingenious theory of some modern writers, namely, that the gorgons and graeae were only personifications of the terrors of the sea, the former denoting the strong billows of the wide open main, and the latter the white-crested waves that dash against the rocks of the coast. their names in greek signify the above epithets. perseus and medusa perseus was the son of jupiter and danae. his grandfather acrisius, alarmed by an oracle which had told him that his daughter's child would be the instrument of his death, caused the mother and child to be shut up in a chest and set adrift on the sea. the chest floated towards seriphus, where it was found by a fisherman who conveyed the mother and infant to polydectes, the king of the country, by whom they were treated with kindness. when perseus was grown up polydectes sent him to attempt the conquest of medusa, a terrible monster who had laid waste the country. she was once a beautiful maiden whose hair was her chief glory, but as she dared to vie in beauty with minerva, the goddess deprived her of her charms and changed her beautiful ringlets into hissing serpents. she became a cruel monster of so frightful an aspect that no living thing could behold her without being turned into stone. all around the cavern where she dwelt might be seen the stony figures of men and animals which had chanced to catch a glimpse of her and had been petrified with the sight. perseus, favored by minerva and mercury, the former of whom lent him her shield and the latter his winged shoes, approached medusa while she slept, and taking care not to look directly at her, but guided by her image reflected in the bright shield which he bore, he cut off her head and gave it to minerva, who fixed it in the middle of her aegis. milton, in his "comus," thus alludes to the aegis: "what was that snaky-headed gorgon-shield that wise minerva wore, unconquered virgin, wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone, but rigid looks of chaste austerity, and noble grace that dashed brute violence with sudden adoration and blank awe!" armstrong, the poet of the "art of preserving health," thus describes the effect of frost upon the waters: "now blows the surly north and chills throughout the stiffening regions, while by stronger charms than circe e'er or fell medea brewed, each brook that wont to prattle to its banks lies all bestilled and wedged betwixt its banks, nor moves the withered reeds ... the surges baited by the fierce north-east, tossing with fretful spleen their angry heads, e'en in the foam of all their madness struck to monumental ice. such execution, so stern, so sudden, wrought the grisly aspect of terrible medusa, when wandering through the woods she turned to stone their savage tenants; just as the foaming lion sprang furious on his prey, her speedier power outran his haste, and fixed in that fierce attitude he stands like rage in marble!" --imitations of shakspeare. perseus and atlas after the slaughter of medusa, perseus, bearing with him the head of the gorgon, flew far and wide, over land and sea. as night came on, he reached the western limit of the earth, where the sun goes down. here he would gladly have rested till morning. it was the realm of king atlas, whose bulk surpassed that of all other men. he was rich in flocks and herds and had no neighbor or rival to dispute his state. but his chief pride was in his gardens, whose fruit was of gold, hanging from golden branches, half hid with golden leaves. perseus said to him, "i come as a guest. if you honor illustrious descent, i claim jupiter for my father; if mighty deeds, i plead the conquest of the gorgon. i seek rest and food." but atlas remembered that an ancient prophecy had warned him that a son of jove should one day rob him of his golden apples. so he answered, "begone! or neither your false claims of glory nor parentage shall protect you;" and he attempted to thrust him out. perseus, finding the giant too strong for him, said, "since you value my friendship so little, deign to accept a present;" and turning his face away, he held up the gorgon's head. atlas, with all his bulk, was changed into stone. his beard and hair became forests, his arms and shoulders cliffs, his head a summit, and his bones rocks. each part increased in bulk till he became a mountain, and (such was the pleasure of the gods) heaven with all its stars rests upon his shoulders. the sea-monster perseus, continuing his flight, arrived at the country of the aethiopians, of which cepheus was king. cassiopeia his queen, proud of her beauty, had dared to compare herself to the sea- nymphs, which roused their indignation to such a degree that they sent a prodigious sea-monster to ravage the coast. to appease the deities, cepheus was directed by the oracle to expose his daughter andromeda to be devoured by the monster. as perseus looked down from his aerial height he beheld the virgin chained to a rock, and waiting the approach of the serpent. she was so pale and motionless that if it had not been for her flowing tears and her hair that moved in the breeze, he would have taken her for a marble statue. he was so startled at the sight that he almost forgot to wave his wings. as he hovered over her he said, "o virgin, undeserving of those chains, but rather of such as bind fond lovers together, tell me, i beseech you, your name, and the name of your country, and why you are thus bound." at first she was silent from modesty, and, if she could, would have hid her face with her hands; but when he repeated his questions, for fear she might be thought guilty of some fault which she dared not tell, she disclosed her name and that of her country, and her mother's pride of beauty. before she had done speaking, a sound was heard off upon the water, and the sea-monster appeared, with his head raised above the surface, cleaving the waves with his broad breast. the virgin shrieked, the father and mother who had now arrived at the scene, wretched both, but the mother more justly so, stood by, not able to afford protection, but only to pour forth lamentations and to embrace the victim. then spoke perseus: "there will be time enough for tears; this hour is all we have for rescue. my rank as the son of jove and my renown as the slayer of the gorgon might make me acceptable as a suitor; but i will try to win her by services rendered, if the gods will only be propitious. if she be rescued by my valor, i demand that she be my reward." the parents consent (how could they hesitate?) and promise a royal dowry with her. and now the monster was within the range of a stone thrown by a skilful slinger, when with a sudden bound the youth soared into the air. as an eagle, when from his lofty flight he sees a serpent basking in the sun, pounces upon him and seizes him by the neck to prevent him from turning his head round and using his fangs, so the youth darted down upon the back of the monster and plunged his sword into its shoulder. irritated by the wound, the monster raised himself in the air, then plunged into the depth; then, like a wild boar surrounded, by a pack of barking dogs, turned swiftly from side to side, while the youth eluded its attacks by means of his wings. wherever he can find a passage for his sword between the scales he makes a wound, piercing now the side, now the flank, as it slopes towards the tail. the brute spouts from his nostrils water mixed with blood. the wings of the hero are wet with it, and he dares no longer trust to them. alighting on a rock which rose above the waves, and holding on by a projecting fragment, as the monster floated near he gave him a death stroke. the people who had gathered on the shore shouted so that the hills reechoed the sound. the parents, transported with joy, embraced their future son-in-law, calling him their deliverer and the savior of their house, and the virgin both cause and reward of the contest, descended from the rock. cassiopeia was an aethiopian, and consequently, in spite of her boasted beauty, black; at least so milton seems to have thought, who alludes to this story in his "penseroso," where he addresses melancholy as the ".... goddess, sage and holy, whose saintly visage is too bright to hit the sense of human sight, and, therefore, to our weaker view o'erlaid with black, staid wisdom's hue. black, but such as in esteem prince memnon's sister might beseem, or that starred aethiop queen that strove to set her beauty's praise above the sea-nymphs, and their powers offended." cassiopeia is called "the starred aethiop queen" because after her death she was placed among the stars, forming the constellation of that name. though she attained this honor, yet the sea-nymphs, her old enemies, prevailed so far as to cause her to be placed in that part of the heaven near the pole, where every night she is half the time held with her head downward, to give her a lesson of humility. memnon was an aethiopian prince, of whom we shall tell in a future chapter. the wedding feast the joyful parents, with perseus and andromeda, repaired to the palace, where a banquet was spread for them, and all was joy and festivity. but suddenly a noise was heard of warlike clamor, and phineus, the betrothed of the virgin, with a party of his adherents, burst in, demanding the maiden as his own. it was in vain that cepheus remonstrated--"you should have claimed her when she lay bound to the rock, the monster's victim. the sentence of the gods dooming her to such a fate dissolved all engagements, as death itself would have done." phineus made no reply, but hurled his javelin at perseus, but it missed its mark and fell harmless. perseus would have thrown his in turn, but the cowardly assailant ran and took shelter behind the altar. but his act was a signal for an onset by his band upon the guests of cepheus. they defended themselves and a general conflict ensued, the old king retreating from the scene after fruitless expostulations, calling the gods to witness that he was guiltless of this outrage on the rights of hospitality. perseus and his friends maintained for some time the unequal contest; but the numbers of the assailants were too great for them, and destruction seemed inevitable, when a sudden thought struck perseus,--"i will make my enemy defend me." then with a loud voice he exclaimed, "if i have any friend here let him turn away his eyes!" and held aloft the gorgon's head. "seek not to frighten us with your jugglery," said thescelus, and raised his javelin in act to throw, and became stone in the very attitude. ampyx was about to plunge his sword into the body of a prostrate foe, but his arm stiffened and he could neither thrust forward nor withdraw it. another, in the midst of a vociferous challenge, stopped, his mouth open, but no sound issuing. one of perseus's friends, aconteus, caught sight of the gorgon and stiffened like the rest. astyages struck him with his sword, but instead of wounding, it recoiled with a ringing noise. phineus beheld this dreadful result of his unjust aggression, and felt confounded. he called aloud to his friends, but got no answer; he touched them and found them stone. falling on his knees and stretching out his hands to perseus, but turning his head away he begged for mercy. "take all," said he, "give me but my life." "base coward," said perseus, "thus much i will grant you; no weapon shall touch you; moreover, you shall be preserved in my house as a memorial of these events." so saying, he held the gorgon's head to the side where phineus was looking, and in the very form in which he knelt, with his hands outstretched and face averted, he became fixed immovably, a mass of stone! the following allusion to perseus is from milman's "samor": "as'mid the fabled libyan bridal stood perseus in stern tranquillity of wrath, half stood, half floated on his ankle-plumes out-swelling, while the bright face on his shield looked into stone the raging fray; so rose, but with no magic arms, wearing alone th' appalling and control of his firm look, the briton samor; at his rising awe went abroad, and the riotous hall was mute." chapter xvi monsters giants, sphinx, pegasus and chimaera, centaurs, griffin, and pygmies monsters, in the language of mythology, were beings of unnatural proportions or parts, usually regarded with terror, as possessing immense strength and ferocity, which they employed for the injury and annoyance of men. some of them were supposed to combine the members of different animals; such were the sphinx and chimaera; and to these all the terrible qualities of wild beasts were attributed, together with human sagacity and faculties. others, as the giants, differed from men chiefly in their size; and in this particular we must recognize a wide distinction among them. the human giants, if so they may be called, such as the cyclopes, antaeus, orion, and others, must be supposed not to be altogether disproportioned to human beings, for they mingled in love and strife with them. but the superhuman giants, who warred with the gods, were of vastly larger dimensions. tityus, we are told, when stretched on the plain, covered nine acres, and enceladus required the whole of mount aetna to be laid upon him to keep him down. we have already spoken of the war which the giants waged against the gods, and of its result. while this war lasted the giants proved a formidable enemy. some of them, like briareus, had a hundred arms; others, like typhon, breathed out fire. at one time they put the gods to such fear that they fled into egypt and hid themselves under various forms. jupiter took the form of a ram, whence he was afterwards worshipped in egypt as the god ammon, with curved horns. apollo became a crow, bacchus a goat, diana a cat, juno a cow, venus a fish, mercury a bird. at another time the giants attempted to climb up into heaven, and for that purpose took up the mountain ossa and piled it on pelion. [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] they were at last subdued by thunderbolts, which minerva invented, and taught vulcan and his cyclopes to make for jupiter. the sphinx laius, king of thebes, was warned by an oracle that there was danger to his throne and life if his new-born son should be suffered to grow up. he therefore committed the child to the care of a herdsman with orders to destroy him; but the herdsman, moved with pity, yet not daring entirely to disobey, tied up the child by the feet and left him hanging to the branch of a tree. in this condition the infant was found by a peasant, who carried him to his master and mistress, by whom he was adopted and called oedipus, or swollen-foot. many years afterwards laius being on his way to delphi, accompanied only by one attendant, met in a narrow road a young man also driving in a chariot. on his refusal to leave the way at their command the attendant killed one of his horses, and the stranger, filled with rage, slew both laius and his attendant. the young man was oedipus, who thus unknowingly became the slayer of his own father. shortly after this event the city of thebes was afflicted with a monster which infested the highroad. it was called the sphinx. it had the body of a lion and the upper part of a woman. it lay crouched on the top of a rock, and arrested all travellers who came that way proposing to them a riddle, with the condition that those who could solve it should pass safe, but those who failed should be killed. not one had yet succeeded in solving it, and all had been slain. oedipus was not daunted by these alarming accounts, but boldly advanced to the trial. the sphinx asked him, "what animal is that which in the morning gees on four feet, at noon on two, and in the evening upon three?" oedipus replied, "man, who in childhood creeps on hands and knees, in manhood walks erect, and in old age with the aid of a staff." the sphinx was so mortified at the solving of her riddle that she cast herself down from the rock and perished. the gratitude of the people for their deliverance was so great that they made oedipus their king, giving him in marriage their queen jocasta. oedipus, ignorant of his parentage, had already become the slayer of his father; in marrying the queen he became the husband of his mother. these horrors remained undiscovered, till at length thebes was afflicted with famine and pestilence, and the oracle being consulted, the double crime of oedipus came to light. jocasta put an end to her own life, and oedipus, seized with madness, tore out his eyes and wandered away from thebes, dreaded and abandoned by all except his daughters, who faithfully adhered to him, till after a tedious period of miserable wandering he found the termination of his wretched life. pegasus and the chimaera when perseus cut off medusa's head, the blood sinking into the earth produced the winged horse pegasus. minerva caught him and tamed him and presented him to the muses. the fountain hippocrene, on the muses' mountain helicon, was opened by a kick from his hoof. the chimaera was a fearful monster, breathing fire. the fore part of its body was a compound of the lion and the goat, and the hind part a dragon's. it made great havoc in lycia, so that the king, iobates, sought for some hero to destroy it. at that time there arrived at his court a gallant young warrior, whose name was bellerophon. he brought letters from proetus, the son-in-law of iobates, recommending bellerophon in the warmest terms as an unconquerable hero, but added at the close a request to his father-in-law to put him to death. the reason was that proetus was jealous of him, suspecting that his wife antea looked with too much admiration on the young warrior. from this instance of bellerophon being unconsciously the bearer of his own death warrant, the expression "bellerophontic letters" arose, to describe any species of communication which a person is made the bearer of, containing matter prejudicial to himself. iobates, on perusing the letters, was puzzled what to do, not willing to violate the claims of hospitality, yet wishing to oblige his son-in-law. a lucky thought occurred to him, to send bellerophon to combat with the chimaera. bellerophon accepted the proposal, but before proceeding to the combat consulted the soothsayer polyidus, who advised him to procure if possible the horse pegasus for the conflict. for this purpose he directed him to pass the night in the temple of minerva. he did so, and as he slept minerva came to him and gave him a golden bridle. when he awoke the bridle remained in his hand. minerva also showed him pegasus drinking at the well of pirene, and at sight of the bridle the winged steed came willingly and suffered himself to be taken. bellerophon mounted him, rose with him into the air, soon found the chimaera, and gained an easy victory over the monster. after the conquest of the chimaera bellerophon was exposed to further trials and labors by his unfriendly host, but by the aid of pegasus he triumphed in them all, till at length iobates, seeing that the hero was a special favorite of the gods, gave him his daughter in marriage and made him his successor on the throne. at last bellerophon by his pride and presumption drew upon himself the anger of the gods; it is said he even attempted to fly up into heaven on his winged steed, but jupiter sent a gadfly which stung pegasus and made him throw his rider, who became lame and blind in consequence. after this bellerophon wandered lonely through the aleian field, avoiding the paths of men, and died miserably. milton alludes to bellerophon in the beginning of the seventh book of "paradise lost": "descend from heaven, urania, by that name if rightly thou art called, whose voice divine following above the olympian hill i soar, above the flight of pegasean wing upled by thee, into the heaven of heavens i have presumed, an earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air (thy tempering); with like safety guided down return me to my native element; lest from this flying steed unreined (as once bellerophon, though from a lower sphere), dismounted on the aleian field i fall, erroneous there to wander and forlorn." young, in his "night thoughts," speaking of the sceptic, says: "he whose blind thought futurity denies, unconscious bears, bellerophon, like thee his own indictment, he condemns himself. who reads his bosom reads immortal life, or nature there, imposing on her sons, has written fables; man was made a lie." vol ii, p pegasus, being the horse of the muses, has always been at the service of the poets. schiller tells a pretty story of his having been sold by a needy poet and put to the cart and the plough. he was not fit for such service, and his clownish master could make nothing of him but a youth stepped forth and asked leave to try him as soon as he was seated on his back the horse, which had appeared at first vicious, and afterwards spirit-broken, rose kingly, a spirit, a god, unfolded the splendor of his wings, and soared towards heaven. our own poet longfellow also records an adventure of this famous steed in his "pegasus in pound." shakspeare alludes to pegasus in "henry iv.," where vernon describes prince henry: "i saw young harry, with his beaver on, his cuishes on his thighs, gallantly armed, rise from the ground like feathered mercury, and vaulted with such ease into his seat, as if an angel dropped down from the clouds, to turn and wind a fiery pegasus, and witch the world with noble horsemanship" the centaurs these monsters were represented as men from the head to the loins, while the remainder of the body was that of a horse. the ancients were too fond of a horse to consider the union of his nature with man's as forming a very degraded compound, and accordingly the centaur is the only one of the fancied monsters of antiquity to which any good traits are assigned. the centaurs were admitted to the companionship of man, and at the marriage of pirithous with hippodamia they were among the guests. at the feast eurytion, one of the centaurs, becoming intoxicated with the wine, attempted to offer violence to the bride; the other centaurs followed his example, and a dreadful conflict arose in which several of them were slain. this is the celebrated battle of the lapithae and centaurs, a favorite subject with the sculptors and poets of antiquity. but not all the centaurs were like the rude guests of pirithous. chiron was instructed by apollo and diana, and was renowned for his skill in hunting, medicine, music, and the art of prophecy. the most distinguished heroes of grecian story were his pupils. among the rest the infant--aesculapius was intrusted to his charge by apollo, his father. when the sage returned to his home bearing the infant, his daughter ocyroe came forth to meet him, and at sight of the child burst forth into a prophetic strain (for she was a prophetess), foretelling the glory that he was to achieve aesculapius when grown up became a renowned physician, and even in one instance succeeded in restoring the dead to life. pluto resented this, and jupiter, at his request, struck the bold physician with lightning, and killed him, but after his death received him into the number of the gods. chiron was the wisest and justest of all the centaurs, and at his death jupiter placed him among the stars as the constellation sagittarius. the pygmies the pygmies were a nation of dwarfs, so called from a greek word which means the cubit or measure of about thirteen inches, which was said to be the height of these people. they lived near the sources of the nile, or according to others, in india. homer tells us that the cranes used to migrate every winter to the pygmies' country, and their appearance was the signal of bloody warfare to the puny inhabitants, who had to take up arms to defend their cornfields against the rapacious strangers. the pygmies and their enemies the cranes form the subject of several works of art. later writers tell of an army of pygmies which finding hercules asleep made preparations to attack him, as if they were about to attack a city. but the hero, awaking, laughed at the little warriors, wrapped some of them up in his lion's skin, and carried them to eurystheus. milton uses the pygmies for a simile, "paradise lost," book i.: "... like that pygmaean race beyond the indian mount, or fairy elves whose midnight revels by a forest side, or fountain, some belated peasant sees (or dreams he sees), while overhead the moon sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth wheels her pale course; they on their mirth and dance intent, with jocund music charm his ear. at once with joy and fear his heart rebounds." the griffin, or gryphon the griffin is a monster with the body of a lion, the head and wings of an eagle, and back covered with feathers. like birds it builds its nest, and instead of an egg lays an agate therein. it has long claws and talons of such a size that the people of that country make them into drinking-cups. india was assigned as the native country of the griffins. they found gold in the mountains and built their nests of it, for which reason their nests were very tempting to the hunters, and they were forced to keep vigilant guard over them. their instinct led them to know where buried treasures lay, and they did their best to keep plunderers at a distance. the arimaspians, among whom the griffins flourished, were a one-eyed people of scythia. milton borrows a simile from the griffins, "paradise lost," book ii,: "as when a gryphon through the wilderness, with winged course, o'er hill and moory dale, pursues the arimaspian who by stealth hath from his wakeful custody purloined his guarded gold," etc. chapter xvii the golden fleece--medea the golden fleece in very ancient times there lived in thessaly a king and queen named athamas and nephele. they had two children, a boy and a girl. after a time athamas grew indifferent to his wife, put her away, and took another. nephele suspected danger to her children from the influence of the step-mother, and took measures to send them out of her reach. mercury assisted her, and gave her a ram with a golden fleece, on which she set the two children, trusting that the ram would convey them to a place of safety. the ram vaulted into the air with the children on his back, taking his course to the east, till when crossing the strait that divides europe and asia, the girl, whose name was helle, fell from his back into the sea, which from her was called the hellespont,--now the dardanelles. the ram continued his career till he reached the kingdom of colchis, on the eastern shore of the black sea, where he safely landed the boy phryxus, who was hospitably received by aeetes, king of the country. phryxus sacrificed the ram to jupiter, and gave the golden fleece to aeetes, who placed it in a consecrated grove, under the care of a sleepless dragon. there was another kingdom in thessaly near to that of athamas, and ruled over by a relative of his. the king aeson, being tired of the cares of government, surrendered his crown to his brother pelias on condition that he should hold it only during the minority of jason, the son of aeson. when jason was grown up and came to demand the crown from his uncle, pelias pretended to be willing to yield it, but at the same time suggested to the young man the glorious adventure of going in quest of the golden fleece, which it was well known was in the kingdom of colchis, and was, as pelias pretended, the rightful property of their family. jason was pleased with the thought, and forthwith made preparations for the expedition. at that time the only species of navigation known to the greeks consisted of small boats or canoes hollowed out from trunks of trees, so that when jason employed argus to build him a vessel capable of containing fifty men, it was considered a gigantic undertaking. it was accomplished, however, and the vessel named "argo," from the name of the builder. jason sent his invitation to all the adventurous young men of greece, and soon found himself at the head of a band of bold youths, many of whom afterwards were renowned among the heroes and demigods of greece. hercules, theseus, orpheus, and nestor were among them. they are called the argonauts, from the name of their vessel. the "argo" with her crew of heroes left the shores of thessaly and having touched at the island of lemnos, thence crossed to mysia and thence to thrace. here they found the sage phineus, and from him received instruction as to their future course. it seems the entrance of the euxine sea was impeded by two small rocky islands, which floated on the surface, and in their tossings and heavings occasionally came together, crushing and grinding to atoms any object that might be caught between them. they were called the symplegades, or clashing islands. phineus instructed the argonauts how to pass this dangerous strait. when they reached the islands they let go a dove, which took her way between the rocks, and passed in safety, only losing some feathers of her tail. jason and his men seized the favorable moment of the rebound, plied their oars with vigor, and passed safe through, though the islands closed behind them, and actually grazed their stern. they now rowed along the shore till they arrived at the eastern end of the sea, and landed at the kingdom of colchis. jason made known his message to the colchian king, aeetes, who consented to give up the golden fleece if jason would yoke to the plough two fire-breathing bulls with brazen feet, and sow the teeth of the dragon which cadmus had slain, and from which it was well known that a crop of armed men would spring up, who would turn their weapons against their producer. jason accepted the conditions, and a time was set for making the experiment. previously, however, he found means to plead his cause to medea, daughter of the king. he promised her marriage, and as they stood before the altar of hecate, called the goddess to witness his oath. medea yielded, and by her aid, for she was a potent sorceress, he was furnished with a charm, by which he could encounter safely the breath of the fire-breathing bulls and the weapons of the armed men. at the time appointed, the people assembled at the grove of mars, and the king assumed his royal seat, while the multitude covered the hill-sides. the brazen-footed bulls rushed in, breathing fire from their nostrils that burned up the herbage as they passed. the sound was like the roar of a furnace, and the smoke like that of water upon quick-lime. jason advanced boldly to meet them. his friends, the chosen heroes of greece, trembled to behold him. regardless of the burning breath, he soothed their rage with his voice, patted their necks with fearless hand, and adroitly slipped over them the yoke, and compelled them to drag the plough. the colchians were amazed; the greeks shouted for joy. jason next proceeded to sow the dragon's teeth and plough them in. and soon the crop of armed men sprang up, and, wonderful to relate! no sooner had they reached the surface than they began to brandish their weapons and rush upon jason. the greeks trembled for their hero, and even she who had provided him a way of safety and taught him how to use it, medea herself, grew pale with fear. jason for a time kept his assailants at bay with his sword and shield, till, finding their numbers overwhelming, he resorted to the charm which medea had taught him, seized a stone and threw it in the midst of his foes. they immediately turned their arms against one another, and soon there was not one of the dragon's brood left alive. the greeks embraced their hero, and medea, if she dared, would have embraced him too. it remained to lull to sleep the dragon that guarded the fleece, and this was done by scattering over him a few drops of a preparation which medea had supplied. at the smell he relaxed his rage, stood for a moment motionless, then shut those great round eyes, that had never been known to shut before, and turned over on his side, fast asleep. jason seized the fleece and with his friends and medea accompanying, hastened to their vessel before aeetes the king could arrest their departure, and made the best of their way back to thessaly, where they arrived safe, and jason delivered the fleece to pelias, and dedicated the "argo" to neptune. what became of the fleece afterwards we do not know, but perhaps it was found after all, like many other golden prizes, not worth the trouble it had cost to procure it. this is one of those mythological tales, says a late writer, in which there is reason to believe that a substratum of truth exists, though overlaid by a mass of fiction. it probably was the first important maritime expedition, and like the first attempts of the kind of all nations, as we know from history, was probably of a half-piratical character. if rich spoils were the result it was enough to give rise to the idea of the golden fleece. another suggestion of a learned mythologist, bryant, is that it is a corrupt tradition of the story of noah and the ark. the name "argo" seems to countenance this, and the incident of the dove is another confirmation. pope, in his "ode on st. cecilia's day," thus celebrates the launching of the ship "argo," and the power of the music of orpheus, whom he calls the thracian: "so when the first bold vessel dared the seas, high on the stern the thracian raised his strain, while argo saw her kindred trees descend from pelion to the main. transported demigods stood round, and men grew heroes at the sound." in dyer's poem of "the fleece" there is an account of the ship "argo" and her crew, which gives a good picture of this primitive maritime adventure: "from every region of aegea's shore the brave assembled; those illustrious twins castor and pollux; orpheus, tuneful bard; zetes and calais, as the wind in speed; strong hercules and many a chief renowned. on deep iolcos' sandy shore they thronged, gleaming in armor, ardent of exploits; and soon, the laurel cord and the huge stone uplifting to the deck, unmoored the bark; whose keel of wondrous length the skilful hand of argus fashioned for the proud attempt; and in the extended keel a lofty mast upraised, and sails full swelling; to the chiefs unwonted objects. now first, now they learned their bolder steerage over ocean wave, led by the golden stars, as chiron's art had marked the sphere celestial," etc. hercules left the expedition at mysia, for hylas, a youth beloved by him, having gone for water, was laid hold of and kept by the nymphs of the spring, who were fascinated by his beauty. hercules went in quest of the lad, and while he was absent the "argo" put to sea and left him. moore, in one of his songs, makes a beautiful allusion to this incident: "when hylas was sent with his urn to the fount, through fields full of light and with heart full of play, light rambled the boy over meadow and mount, and neglected his task for the flowers in the way. "thus many like me, who in youth should have tasted the fountain that runs by philosophy's shrme, their time with the flowers on the margin have wasted, and left their light urns all as empty as mine." medea and aeson amid the rejoicings for the recovery of the golden fleece, jason felt that one thing was wanting, the presence of aeson, his father, who was prevented by his age and infirmities from taking part in them. jason said to medea, "my spouse, would that your arts, whose power i have seen so mighty for my aid, could do me one further service, take some years from my life and add them to my father's." medea replied, "not at such a cost shall it be done, but if my art avails me, his life shall be lengthened without abridging yours." the next full moon she issued forth alone, while all creatures slept; not a breath stirred the foliage, and all was still. to the stars she addressed her incantations, and to the moon; to hecate, [footnote: hecate was a mysterious divinity sometimes identified with diana and sometimes with proserpine. as diana represents the moonlight splendor of night, so hecate represents its darkness and terrors. she was the goddess of sorcery and witchcraft, and was believed to wander by night along the earth, seen only by the dogs, whose barking told her approach.] the goddess of the underworld, and to tellus the goddess of the earth, by whose power plants potent for enchantment are produced. she invoked the gods of the woods and caverns, of mountains and valleys, of lakes and rivers, of winds and vapors. while she spoke the stars shone brighter, and presently a chariot descended through the air, drawn by flying serpents. she ascended it, and borne aloft made her way to distant regions, where potent plants grew which she knew how to select for her purpose. nine nights she employed in her search, and during that time came not within the doors of her palace nor under any roof, and shunned all intercourse with mortals. she next erected two altars, the one to hecate, the other to hebe, the goddess of youth, and sacrificed a black sheep, pouring libations of milk and wine. she implored pluto and his stolen bride that they would not hasten to take the old man's life. then she directed that aeson should be led forth, and having thrown him into a deep sleep by a charm, had him laid on a bed of herbs, like one dead. jason and all others were kept away from the place, that no profane eyes might look upon her mysteries. then, with streaming hair, she thrice moved round the altars, dipped flaming twigs in the blood, and laid them thereon to burn. meanwhile the caldron with its contents was got ready. in it she put magic herbs, with seeds and flowers of acrid juice, stones from the distant east, and sand from the shore of all-surrounding ocean; hoar frost, gathered by moonlight, a screech owl's head and wings, and the entrails of a wolf. she added fragments of the shells of tortoises, and the liver of stags,--animals tenacious of life,-- and the head and beak of a crow, that outlives nine generations of men. these with many other things "without a name" she boiled together for her purposed work, stirring them up with a dry olive branch; and behold! the branch when taken out instantly became green, and before long was covered with leaves and a plentiful growth of young olives; and as the liquor boiled and bubbled, and sometimes ran over, the grass wherever the sprinklings fell shot forth with a verdure like that of spring. seeing that all was ready, medea cut the throat of the old man and let out all his blood, and poured into his mouth and into his wound the juices of her caldron. as soon as he had completely imbibed them, his hair and beard laid by their whiteness and assumed the blackness of youth; his paleness and emaciation were gone; his veins were full of blood, his limbs of vigor and robustness. aeson is amazed at himself, and remembers that such as he now is, he was in his youthful days, forty years before. medea used her arts here for a good purpose, but not so in another instance, where she made them the instruments of revenge. pelias, our readers will recollect, was the usurping uncle of jason, and had kept him out of his kingdom. yet he must have had some good qualities, for his daughters loved him, and when they saw what medea had done for aeson, they wished her to do the same for their father. medea pretended to consent, and prepared her caldron as before. at her request an old sheep was brought and plunged into the caldron. very soon a bleating was heard in the kettle, and when the cover was removed, a lamb jumped forth and ran frisking away into the meadow. the daughters of pelias saw the experiment with delight, and appointed a time for their father to undergo the same operation. but medea prepared her caldron for him in a very different way. she put in only water and a few simple herbs. in the night she with the sisters entered the bed chamber of the old king, while he and his guards slept soundly under the influence of a spell cast upon them by medea. the daughters stood by the bedside with their weapons drawn, but hesitated to strike, till medea chid their irresolution. then turning away their faces, and giving random blows, they smote him with their weapons. he, starting from his sleep, cried out, "my daughters, what are you doing? will you kill your father?" their hearts failed them and their weapons fell from their hands, but medea struck him a fatal blow, and prevented his saying more. then they placed him in the caldron, and medea hastened to depart in her serpent-drawn chariot before they discovered her treachery, or their vengeance would have been terrible. she escaped, however, but had little enjoyment of the fruits of her crime. jason, for whom she had done so much, wishing to marry creusa, princess of corinth, put away medea. she, enraged at his ingratitude, called on the gods for vengeance, sent a poisoned robe as a gift to the bride, and then killing her own children, and setting fire to the palace, mounted her serpent-drawn chariot and fled to athens, where she married king aegeus, the father of theseus, and we shall meet her again when we come to the adventures of that hero. the incantations of medea will remind the reader of those of the witches in "macbeth." the following lines are those which seem most strikingly to recall the ancient model: "round about the caldron go; in the poisoned entrails throw. fillet of a fenny snake in the caldron boil and bake; eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog, adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, lizard's leg and howlet's wing: maw of ravening salt-sea shark, root of hemlock digged in the dark," etc --macbeth, act iv, scene and again: macbeth.--what is't you do? witches,--a deed without a name. there is another story of medea almost too revolting for record even of a sorceress, a class of persons to whom both ancient and modern poets have been accustomed to attribute every degree of atrocity. in her flight from colchis she had taken her young brother absyrtus with her. finding the pursuing vessels of aeetes gaining upon the argonauts, she caused the lad to be killed and his limbs to be strewn over the sea. aeetes on reaching the place found these sorrowful traces of his murdered son; but while he tarried to collect the scattered fragments and bestow upon them an honorable interment, the argonauts escaped. in the poems of campbell will be found a translation of one of the choruses of the tragedy of "medea," where the poet euripides has taken advantage of the occasion to pay a glowing tribute to athens, his native city. it begins thus: "o haggard queen! to athens dost thou guide thy glowing chariot, steeped in kindred gore; or seek to hide thy damned parricide where peace and justice dwell for evermore?" chapter xviii meleager and atalanta one of the heroes of the argonautic expedition was meleager, son of oeneus and althea, king and queen of calydon. althea, when her son was born, beheld the three destinies, who, as they spun their fatal thread, foretold that the life of the child should last no longer than a brand then burning upon the hearth. althea seized and quenched the brand, and carefully preserved it for years, while meleager grew to boyhood, youth, and manhood. it chanced, then, that oeneus, as he offered sacrifices to the gods, omitted to pay due honors to diana; and she, indignant at the neglect, sent a wild boar of enormous size to lay waste the fields of calydon. its eyes shone with blood and fire, its bristles stood like threatening spears, its tusks were like those of indian elephants. the growing corn was trampled, the vines and olive trees laid waste, the flocks and herds were driven in wild confusion by the slaughtering foe. all common aid seemed vain; but meleager called on the heroes of greece to join in a bold hunt for the ravenous monster. theseus and his friend pirithous, jason, peleus, afterwards the father of achilles, telamon the father of ajax, nestor, then a youth, but who in his age bore arms with achilles and ajax in the trojan war,--these and many more joined in the enterprise. with them came atalanta, the daughter of iasius, king of arcadia. a buckle of polished gold confined her vest, an ivory quiver hung on her left shoulder, and her left hand bore the bow. her face blent feminine beauty with the best graces of martial youth. meleager saw and loved. but now already they were near the monster's lair. they stretched strong nets from tree to tree; they uncoupled their dogs, they tried to find the footprints of their quarry in the grass. from the wood was a descent to marshy ground. here the boar, as he lay among the reeds, heard the shouts of his pursuers, and rushed forth against them. one and another is thrown down and slain. jason throws his spear, with a prayer to diana for success; and the favoring goddess allows the weapon to touch, but not to wound, removing the steel point of the spear in its flight. nestor, assailed, seeks and finds safety in the branches of a tree. telamon rushes on, but stumbling at a projecting root, falls prone. but an arrow from atalanta at length for the first time tastes the monster's blood. it is a slight wound, but meleager sees and joyfully proclaims it. anceus, excited to envy by the praise given to a female, loudly proclaims his own valor, and defies alike the boar and the goddess who had sent it; but as he rushes on, the infuriated beast lays him low with a mortal wound. theseus throws his lance, but it is turned aside by a projecting bough. the dart of jason misses its object, and kills instead one of their own dogs. but meleager, after one unsuccessful stroke, drives his spear into the monster's side, then rushes on and despatches him with repeated blows. then rose a shout from those around; they congratulated the conqueror, crowding to touch his hand. he, placing his foot upon the head of the slain boar, turned to atalanta and bestowed on her the head and the rough hide which were the trophies of his success. but at this, envy excited the rest to strife. plexippus and toxeus, the brothers of meleager's mother, beyond the rest opposed the gift, and snatched from the maiden the trophy she had received. meleager, kindling with rage at the wrong done to himself, and still more at the insult offered to her whom he loved, forgot the claims of kindred, and plunged his sword into the offenders' hearts. as althea bore gifts of thankfulness to the temples for the victory of her son, the bodies of her murdered brothers met her sight. she shrieks, and beats her breast, and hastens to change the garments of rejoicing for those of mourning. but when the author of the deed is known, grief gives way to the stern desire of vengeance on her son. the fatal brand, which once she rescued from the flames, the brand which the destinies had linked with meleager's life, she brings forth, and commands a fire to be prepared. then four times she essays to place the brand upon the pile; four times draws back, shuddering at the thought of bringing destruction on her son. the feelings of the mother and the sister contend within her. now she is pale at the thought of the proposed deed, now flushed again with anger at the act of her son. as a vessel, driven in one direction by the wind, and in the opposite by the tide, the mind of althea hangs suspended in uncertainty. but now the sister prevails above the mother, and she begins as she holds the fatal wood: "turn, ye furies, goddesses of punishment! turn to behold the sacrifice i bring! crime must atone for crime. shall oeneus rejoice in his victor son, while the house of thestius is desolate? but, alas! to what deed am i borne along? brothers forgive a mother's weakness! my hand fails me. he deserves death, but not that i should destroy him. but shall he then live, and triumph, and reign over calydon, while you, my brothers, wander unavenged among the shades? no! thou hast lived by my gift; die, now, for thine own crime. return the life which twice i gave thee, first at thy birth, again when i snatched this brand from the flames. o that thou hadst then died! alas! evil is the conquest; but, brothers, ye have conquered." and, turning away her face, she threw the fatal wood upon the burning pile. it gave, or seemed to give, a deadly groan. meleager, absent and unknowing of the cause, felt a sudden pang. he burns, and only by courageous pride conquers the pain which destroys him. he mourns only that he perishes by a bloodless and unhonored death. with his last breath he calls upon his aged father, his brother, and his fond sisters, upon his beloved atalanta, and upon his mother, the unknown cause of his fate. the flames increase, and with them the pain of the hero. now both subside; now both are quenched. the brand is ashes, and the life of meleager is breathed forth to the wandering winds. althea, when the deed was done, laid violent hands upon herself. the sisters of meleager mourned their brother with uncontrollable grief; till diana, pitying the sorrows of the house that once had aroused her anger, turned them into birds. atalanta the innocent cause of so much sorrow was a maiden whose face you might truly say was boyish for a girl, yet too girlish for a boy. her fortune had been told, and it was to this effect: "atalanta, do not marry; marriage will be your ruin." terrified by this oracle, she fled the society of men, and devoted herself to the sports of the chase. to all suitors (for she had many) she imposed a condition which was generally effectual in relieving her of their persecutions,--"i will be the prize of him who shall conquer me in the race; but death must be the penalty of all who try and fail." in spite of this hard condition some would try. hippomenes was to be judge of the race. "can it be possible that any will be so rash as to risk so much for a wife?" said he. but when he saw her lay aside her robe for the race, he changed his mind, and said, "pardon me, youths, i knew not the prize you were competing for." as he surveyed them he wished them all to be beaten, and swelled with envy of any one that seemed at all likely to win. while such were his thoughts, the virgin darted forward. as she ran she looked more beautiful than ever. the breezes seemed to give wings to her feet; her hair flew over her shoulders, and the gay fringe of her garment fluttered behind her. a ruddy hue tinged the whiteness of her skin, such as a crimson curtain casts on a marble wall. all her competitors were distanced, and were put to death without mercy. hippomenes, not daunted by this result, fixing his eyes on the virgin, said, "why boast of beating those laggards? i offer myself for the contest." atalanta looked at him with a pitying countenance, and hardly knew whether she would rather conquer him or not. "what god can tempt one so young and handsome to throw himself away? i pity him, not for his beauty (yet he is beautiful), but for his youth. i wish he would give up the race, or if he will be so mad, i hope he may outrun me." while she hesitates, revolving these thoughts, the spectators grow impatient for the race, and her father prompts her to prepare. then hippomenes addressed a prayer to venus: "help me, venus, for you have led me on." venus heard and was propitious. in the garden of her temple, in her own island of cyprus, is a tree with yellow leaves and yellow branches and golden fruit. hence she gathered three golden apples, and, unseen by any one else, gave them to hippomenes, and told him how to use them. the signal is given; each starts from the goal and skims over the sand. so light their tread, you would almost have thought they might run over the river surface or over the waving grain without sinking. the cries of the spectators cheered hippomenes,--"now, now, do your best! haste, haste! you gain on her! relax not! one more effort!" it was doubtful whether the youth or the maiden heard these cries with the greater pleasure. but his breath began to fail him, his throat was dry, the goal yet far off. at that moment he threw down one of the golden apples. the virgin was all amazement. she stopped to pick it up. hippomenes shot ahead. shouts burst forth from all sides. she redoubled her efforts, and soon overtook him. again he threw an apple. she stopped again, but again came up with him. the goal was near; one chance only remained. "now, goddess," said he, "prosper your gift!" and threw the last apple off at one side. she looked at it, and hesitated; venus impelled her to turn aside for it. she did so, and was vanquished. the youth carried off his prize. but the lovers were so full of their own happiness that they forgot to pay due honor to venus; and the goddess was provoked at their ingratitude. she caused them to give offence to cybele. that powerful goddess was not to be insulted with impunity. she took from them their human form and turned them into animals of characters resembling their own: of the huntress-heroine, triumphing in the blood of her lovers, she made a lioness, and of her lord and master a lion, and yoked them to her car, where they are still to be seen in all representations, in statuary or painting, of the goddess cybele. cybele is the latin name of the goddess called by the greeks rhea and ops. she was the wife of cronos and mother of zeus. in works of art she exhibits the matronly air which distinguishes juno and ceres. sometimes she is veiled, and seated on a throne with lions at her side, at other times riding in a chariot drawn by lions. she wears a mural crown, that is, a crown whose rim is carved in the form of towers and battlements. her priests were called corybantes. byron, in describing the city of venice, which is built on a low island in the adriatic sea, borrows an illustration from cybele: "she looks a sea-cybele fresh from ocean, rising with her tiara of proud towers at airy distance, with majestic motion, a ruler of the waters and their powers." --childe harold, iv. in moore's "rhymes on the road," the poet, speaking of alpine scenery, alludes to the story of atalanta and hippomenes thus: "even here, in this region of wonders, i find that light-footed fancy leaves truth far behind, or at least, like hippomenes, turns her astray by the golden illusions he flings in her way." chapter xix hercules--hebe and ganymede hercules hercules was the son of jupiter and alcmena. as juno was always hostile to the offspring of her husband by mortal mothers, she declared war against hercules from his birth. she sent two serpents to destroy him as he lay in his cradle, but the precocious infant strangled them with his own hands. he was, however, by the arts of juno rendered subject to eurystheus and compelled to perform all his commands. eurystheus enjoined upon him a succession of desperate adventures, which are called the "twelve labors of hercules." the first was the fight with the nemean lion. the valley of nemea was infested by a terrible lion. eurystheus ordered hercules to bring him the skin of this monster. after using in vain his club and arrows against the lion, hercules strangled the animal with his hands. he returned carrying the dead lion on his shoulders; but eurystheus was so frightened at the sight of it and at this proof of the prodigious strength of the hero, that he ordered him to deliver the account of his exploits in future outside the town. his next labor was the slaughter of the hydra. this monster ravaged the country of argos, and dwelt in a swamp near the well of amymone. this well had been discovered by amymone when the country was suffering from drought, and the story was that neptune, who loved her, had permitted her to touch the rock with his trident, and a spring of three outlets burst forth. here the hydra took up his position, and hercules was sent to destroy him. the hydra had nine heads, of which the middle one was immortal. hercules struck off its heads with his club, but in the place of the head knocked off, two new ones grew forth each time. at length with the assistance of his faithful servant iolaus, he burned away the heads of the hydra, and buried the ninth or immortal one under a huge rock. another labor was the cleaning of the augean stables. augeas, king of elis, had a herd of three thousand oxen, whose stalls had not been cleansed for thirty years. hercules brought the rivers alpheus and peneus through them, and cleansed them thoroughly in one day. his next labor was of a more delicate kind. admeta, the daughter of eurystheus, longed to obtain the girdle of the queen of the amazons, and eurystheus ordered hercules to go and get it. the amazons were a nation of women. they were very warlike and held several flourishing cities. it was their custom to bring up only the female children; the boys were either sent away to the neighboring nations or put to death. hercules was accompanied by a number of volunteers, and after various adventures at last reached the country of the amazons. hippolyta, the queen, received him kindly, and consented to yield him her girdle, but juno, taking the form of an amazon, went and persuaded the rest that the strangers were carrying off their queen. they instantly armed and came in great numbers down to the ship. hercules, thinking that hippolyta had acted treacherously, slew her, and taking her girdle made sail homewards. another task enjoined him was to bring to eurystheus the oxen of geryon, a monster with three bodies, who dwelt in the island erytheia (the red), so called because it lay at the west, under the rays of the setting sun. this description is thought to apply to spain, of which geryon was king. after traversing various countries, hercules reached at length the frontiers of libya and europe, where he raised the two mountains of calpe and abyla, as monuments of his progress, or, according to another account, rent one mountain into two and left half on each side, forming the straits of gibraltar, the two mountains being called the pillars of hercules. the oxen were guarded by the giant eurytion and his two-headed dog, but hercules killed the giant and his dog and brought away the oxen in safety to eurystheus. the most difficult labor of all was getting the golden apples of the hesperides, for hercules did not know where to find them. these were the apples which juno had received at her wedding from the goddess of the earth, and which she had intrusted to the keeping of the daughters of hesperus, assisted by a watchful dragon. after various adventures hercules arrived at mount atlas in africa. atlas was one of the titans who had warred against the gods, and after they were subdued, atlas was condemned to bear on his shoulders the weight of the heavens. he was the father of the hesperides, and hercules thought might, if any one could, find the apples and bring them to him. but how to send atlas away from his post, or bear up the heavens while he was gone? hercules took the burden on his own shoulders, and sent atlas to seek the apples. he returned with them, and though somewhat reluctantly, took his burden upon his shoulders again, and let hercules return with the apples to eurystheus. milton, in his "comus," makes the hesperides the daughters of hesperus and nieces of atlas: "... amidst the gardens fair of hesperus and his daughters three, that sing about the golden tree." the poets, led by the analogy of the lovely appearance of the western sky at sunset, viewed the west as a region of brightness and glory. hence they placed in it the isles of the blest, the ruddy isle erythea, on which the bright oxen of geryon were pastured, and the isle of the hesperides. the apples are supposed by some to be the oranges of spain, of which the greeks had heard some obscure accounts. a celebrated exploit of hercules was his victory over antaeus. antaeus, the son of terra, the earth, was a mighty giant and wrestler, whose strength was invincible so long as he remained in contact with his mother earth. he compelled all strangers who came to his country to wrestle with him, on condition that if conquered (as they all were) they should be put to death. hercules encountered him, and finding that it was of no avail to throw him, for he always rose with renewed strength from every fall, he lifted him up from the earth and strangled him in the air. cacus was a huge giant, who inhabited a cave on mount aventine, and plundered the surrounding country. when hercules was driving home the oxen of geryon, cacus stole part of the cattle, while the hero slept. that their footprints might not serve to show where they had been driven, he dragged them backward by their tails to his cave; so their tracks all seemed to show that they had gone in the opposite direction. hercules was deceived by this stratagem, and would have failed to find his oxen, if it had not happened that in driving the remainder of the herd past the cave where the stolen ones were concealed, those within began to low, and were thus discovered. cacus was slain by hercules. the last exploit we shall record was bringing cerberus from the lower world. hercules descended into hades, accompanied by mercury and minerva. he obtained permission from pluto to carry cerberus to the upper air, provided he could do it without the use of weapons; and in spite of the monster's struggling, he seized him, held him fast, and carried him to eurystheus, and afterwards brought him back again. when he was in hades he obtained the liberty of theseus, his admirer and imitator, who had been detained a prisoner there for an unsuccessful attempt to carry off proserpine. hercules in a fit of madness killed his friend iphitus, and was condemned for this offence to become the slave of queen omphale for three years. while in this service the hero's nature seemed changed. he lived effeminately, wearing at times the dress of a woman, and spinning wool with the hand-maidens of omphale, while the queen wore his lion's skin. when this service was ended he married dejanira and lived in peace with her three years. on one occasion as he was travelling with his wife, they came to a river, across which the centaur nessus carried travellers for a stated fee. hercules himself forded the river, but gave dejanira to nessus to be carried across. nessus attempted to run away with her, but hercules heard her cries and shot an arrow into the heart of nessus. the dying centaur told dejanira to take a portion of his blood and keep it, as it might be used as a charm to preserve the love of her husband. dejanira did so and before long fancied she had occasion to use it. hercules in one of his conquests had taken prisoner a fair maiden, named iole, of whom he seemed more fond than dejanira approved. when hercules was about to offer sacrifices to the gods in honor of his victory, he sent to his wife for a white robe to use on the occasion. dejanira, thinking it a good opportunity to try her love-spell, steeped the garment in the blood of nessus. we are to suppose she took care to wash out all traces of it, but the magic power remained, and as soon as the garment became warm on the body of hercules the poison penetrated into all his limbs and caused him the most intense agony. in his frenzy he seized lichas, who had brought him the fatal robe, and hurled him into the sea. he wrenched off the garment, but it stuck to his flesh, and with it he tore away whole pieces of his body. in this state he embarked on board a ship and was conveyed home. dejanira, on seeing what she had unwittingly done, hung herself. hercules, prepared to die, ascended mount oeta, where he built a funeral pile of trees, gave his bow and arrows to philoctetes, and laid himself down on the pile, his head resting on his club, and his lion's skin spread over him. with a countenance as serene as if he were taking his place at a festal board he commanded philoctetes to apply the torch. the flames spread apace and soon invested the whole mass. milton thus alludes to the frenzy of hercules: "as when alcides, from oechalia crowned with conquest, felt the envenomed robe, and tore, through pain, up by the roots thessalian pines and lichas from the top of oeta threw into the euboic sea." [footnote: alcides, a name of hercules.] the gods themselves felt troubled at seeing the champion of the earth so brought to his end. but jupiter with cheerful countenance thus addressed them: "i am pleased to see your concern, my princes, and am gratified to perceive that i am the ruler of a loyal people, and that my son enjoys your favor. for although your interest in him arises from his noble deeds, yet it is not the less gratifying to me. but now i say to you, fear not. he who conquered all else is not to be conquered by those flames which you see blazing on mount oeta. only his mother's share in him can perish; what he derived from me is immortal. i shall take him, dead to earth, to the heavenly shores, and i require of you all to receive him kindly. if any of you feel grieved at his attaining this honor, yet no one can deny that he has deserved it." the gods all gave their assent; juno only heard the closing words with some displeasure that she should be so particularly pointed at, yet not enough to make her regret the determination of her husband. so when the flames had consumed the mother's share of hercules, the diviner part, instead of being injured thereby, seemed to start forth with new vigor, to assume a more lofty port and a more awful dignity. jupiter enveloped him in a cloud, and took him up in a four-horse chariot to dwell among the stars. as he took his place in heaven, atlas felt the added weight. juno, now reconciled to him, gave him her daughter hebe in marriage. the poet schiller, in one of his pieces called the "ideal and life," illustrates the contrast between the practical and the imaginative in some beautiful stanzas, of which the last two may be thus translated: "deep degraded to a coward's slave, endless contests bore alcides brave, through the thorny path of suffering led; slew the hydra, crushed the lion's might, threw himself, to bring his friend to light, living, in the skiff that bears the dead. all the torments, every toil of earth juno's hatred on him could impose, well he bore them, from his fated birth to life's grandly mournful close. "till the god, the earthly part forsaken, from the man in flames asunder taken, drank the heavenly ether's purer breath. joyous in the new unwonted lightness, soared he upwards to celestial brightness, earth's dark heavy burden lost in death. high olympus gives harmonious greeting to the hall where reigns his sire adored; youth's bright goddess, with a blush at meeting, gives the nectar to her lord." --s. g. b. hebe and ganymede hebe, the daughter of juno, and goddess of youth, was cup-bearer to the gods. the usual story is that she resigned her office on becoming the wife of hercules. but there is another statement which our countryman crawford, the sculptor, has adopted in his group of hebe and ganymede, now in the athenaeum gallery. according to this, hebe was dismissed from her office in consequence of a fall which she met with one day when in attendance on the gods. her successor was ganymede, a trojan boy, whom jupiter, in the disguise of an eagle, seized and carried off from the midst of his playfellows on mount ida, bore up to heaven, and installed in the vacant place. tennyson, in his "palace of art," describes among the decorations on the walls a picture representing this legend: "there, too, flushed ganymede, his rosy thigh half buried in the eagle's down, sole as a flying star shot through the sky above the pillared town." and in shelley's "prometheus" jupiter calls to his cup-bearer thus: "pour forth heaven's wine, idaean ganymede, and let it fill the daedal cups like fire." the beautiful legend of the "choice of hercules" may be found in the "tatler," no. . chapter xx theseus--daedalus--castor and pollux theseus theseus was the son of aegeus, king of athens, and of aethra, daughter of the king of troezen. he was brought up at troezen, and when arrived at manhood was to proceed to athens and present himself to his father. aegeus on parting from aethra, before the birth of his son, placed his sword and shoes under a large stone and directed her to send his son to him when he became strong enough to roll away the stone and take them from under it. when she thought the time had come, his mother led theseus to the stone, and he removed it with ease and took the sword and shoes. as the roads were infested with robbers, his grandfather pressed him earnestly to take the shorter and safer way to his father's country--by sea; but the youth, feeling in himself the spirit and the soul of a hero, and eager to signalize himself like hercules, with whose fame all greece then rang, by destroying the evil-doers and monsters that oppressed the country, determined on the more perilous and adventurous journey by land. his first day's journey brought him to epidaurus, where dwelt a man named periphetes, a son of vulcan. this ferocious savage always went armed with a club of iron, and all travellers stood in terror of his violence. when he saw theseus approach he assailed him, but speedily fell beneath the blows of the young hero, who took possession of his club and bore it ever afterwards as a memorial of his first victory. several similar contests with the petty tyrants and marauders of the country followed, in all of which theseus was victorious. one of these evil-doers was called procrustes, or the stretcher. he had an iron bedstead, on which he used to tie all travellers who fell into his hands. if they were shorter than the bed, he stretched their limbs to make them fit it; if they were longer than the bed, he lopped off a portion. theseus served him as he had served others. having overcome all the perils of the road, theseus at length reached athens, where new dangers awaited him. medea, the sorceress, who had fled from corinth after her separation from jason, had become the wife of aegeus, the father of theseus. knowing by her arts who he was, and fearing the loss of her influence with her husband if theseus should be acknowledged as his son, she filled the mind of aegeus with suspicions of the young stranger, and induced him to present him a cup of poison; but at the moment when theseus stepped forward to take it, the sight of the sword which he wore discovered to his father who he was, and prevented the fatal draught. medea, detected in her arts, fled once more from deserved punishment, and arrived in asia, where the country afterwards called media received its name from her, theseus was acknowledged by his father, and declared his successor. the athenians were at that time in deep affliction, on account of the tribute which they were forced to pay to minos, king of crete. this tribute consisted of seven youths and seven maidens, who were sent every year to be devoured by the minotaur, a monster with a bull's body and a human head. it was exceedingly strong and fierce, and was kept in a labyrinth constructed by daedalus, so artfully contrived that whoever was enclosed in it could by no means, find his way out unassisted. here the minotaur roamed, and was fed with human victims. theseus resolved to deliver his countrymen from this calamity, or to die in the attempt. accordingly, when the time of sending off the tribute came, and the youths and maidens were, according to custom, drawn by lot to be sent, he offered himself as one of the victims, in spite of the entreaties of his father. the ship departed under black sails, as usual, which theseus promised his father to change for white, in case of his returning victorious. when they arrived in crete, the youths and maidens were exhibited before minos; and ariadne, the daughter of the king, being present, became deeply enamored of theseus, by whom her love was readily returned. she furnished him with a sword, with which to encounter the minotaur, and with a clew of thread by which he might find his way out of the labyrinth. he was successful, slew the minotaur, escaped from the labyrinth, and taking ariadne as the companion of his way, with his rescued companions sailed for athens. on their way they stopped at the island of naxos, where theseus abandoned ariadne, leaving her asleep. [footnote: one of the finest pieces of sculpture in italy, the recumbent ariadne of the vatican, represents this incident. a copy is owned by the athenaeum, boston, and deposited, in the museum of fine arts.] his excuse for this ungrateful treatment of his benefactress was that minerva appeared to him in a dream and commanded him to do so. on approaching the coast of attica, theseus forgot the signal appointed by his father, and neglected to raise the white sails, and the old king, thinking his son had perished, put an end to his own life. theseus thus became king of athens. one of the most celebrated of the adventures of theseus is his expedition against the amazons. he assailed them before they had recovered from the attack of hercules, and carried off their queen antiope. the amazons in their turn invaded the country of athens and penetrated into the city itself; and the final battle in which theseus overcame them was fought in the very midst of the city. this battle was one of the favorite subjects of the ancient sculptors, and is commemorated in several works of art that are still extant. the friendship between theseus and pirithous was of a most intimate nature, yet it originated in the midst of arms. pirithous had made an irruption into the plain of marathon, and carried off the herds of the king of athens. theseus went to repel the plunderers. the moment pirithous beheld him, he was seized with admiration; he stretched out his hand as a token of peace, and cried, "be judge thyself--what satisfaction dost thou require?" "thy friendship," replied the athenian, and they swore inviolable fidelity. their deeds corresponded to their professions, and they ever continued true brothers in arms. each of them aspired to espouse a daughter of jupiter. theseus fixed his choice on helen, then but a child, afterwards so celebrated as the cause of the trojan war, and with the aid of his friend he carried her off. pirithous aspired to the wife of the monarch of erebus; and theseus, though aware of the danger, accompanied the ambitious lover in his descent to the under-world. but pluto seized and set them on an enchanted rock at his palace gate, where they remained till hercules arrived and liberated theseus, leaving pirithous to his fate. after the death of antiope, theseus married phaedra, daughter of minos, king of crete. phaedra saw in hippolytus, the son of theseus, a youth endowed with all the graces and virtues of his father, and of an age corresponding to her own. she loved him, but he repulsed her advances, and her love was changed to hate. she used her influence over her infatuated husband to cause him to be jealous of his son, and he imprecated the vengeance of neptune upon him. as hippolytus was one day driving his chariot along the shore, a sea-monster raised himself above the waters, and frightened the horses so that they ran away and dashed the chariot to pieces. hippolytus was killed, but by diana's assistance aesculapius restored him to life. diana removed hippolytus from the power of his deluded father and false stepmother, and placed him in italy under the protection of the nymph egeria. theseus at length lost the favor of his people, and retired to the court of lycomedes, king of scyros, who at first received him kindly, but afterwards treacherously slew him. in a later age the athenian general cimon discovered the place where his remains were laid, and caused them to be removed to athens, where they were deposited in a temple called the theseum, erected in honor of the hero. the queen of the amazons whom theseus espoused is by some called hippolyta. that is the name she bears in shakspeare's "midsummer night's dream,"--the subject of which is the festivities attending the nuptials of theseus and hippolyta. mrs. hemans has a poem on the ancient greek tradition that the "shade of theseus" appeared strengthening his countrymen at the battle of marathon. theseus is a semi-historical personage. it is recorded of him that he united the several tribes by whom the territory of attica was then possessed into one state, of which athens was the capital. in commemoration of this important event, he instituted the festival of panathenaea, in honor of minerva, the patron deity of athens. this festival differed from the other grecian games chiefly in two particulars. it was peculiar to the athenians, and its chief feature was a solemn procession in which the peplus, or sacred robe of minerva, was carried to the parthenon, and suspended before the statue of the goddess. the peplus was covered with embroidery, worked by select virgins of the noblest families in athens. the procession consisted of persons of all ages and both sexes. the old men carried olive branches in their hands, and the young men bore arms. the young women carried baskets on their heads, containing the sacred utensils, cakes, and all things necessary for the sacrifices. the procession formed the subject of the bas-reliefs which embellished the outside of the temple of the parthenon. a considerable portion of these sculptures is now in the british museum among those known as the "elgin marbles." olympic and other games it seems not inappropriate to mention here the other celebrated national games of the greeks. the first and most distinguished were the olympic, founded, it was said, by jupiter himself. they were celebrated at olympia in elis. vast numbers of spectators flocked to them from every part of greece, and from asia, africa, and sicily. they were repeated every fifth year in mid-summer, and continued five days. they gave rise to the custom of reckoning time and dating events by olympiads. the first olympiad is generally considered as corresponding with the year b.c. the pythian games were celebrated in the vicinity of delphi, the isthmian on the corinthian isthmus, the nemean at nemea, a city of argolis. the exercises in these games were of five sorts: running, leaping, wrestling, throwing the quoit, and hurling the javelin, or boxing. besides these exercises of bodily strength and agility, there were contests in music, poetry, and eloquence. thus these games furnished poets, musicians, and authors the best opportunities to present their productions to the public, and the fame of the victors was diffused far and wide. daedalus the labyrinth from which theseus escaped by means of the clew of ariadne was built by daedalus, a most skilful artificer. it was an edifice with numberless winding passages and turnings opening into one another, and seeming to have neither beginning nor end, like the river maeander, which returns on itself, and flows now onward, now backward, in its course to the sea. daedalus built the labyrinth for king minos, but afterwards lost the favor of the king, and was shut up in a tower. he contrived to make his escape from his prison, but could not leave the island by sea, as the king kept strict watch on all the vessels, and permitted none to sail without being carefully searched. "minos may control the land and sea," said daedalus, "but not the regions of the air. i will try that way." so he set to work to fabricate wings for himself and his young son icarus. he wrought feathers together, beginning with the smallest and adding larger, so as to form an increasing surface. the larger ones he secured with thread and the smaller with wax, and gave the whole a gentle curvature like the wings of a bird. icarus, the boy, stood and looked on, sometimes running to gather up the feathers which the wind had blown away, and then handling the wax and working it over with his fingers, by his play impeding his father in his labors. when at last the work was done, the artist, waving his wings, found himself buoyed upward, and hung suspended, poising himself on the beaten air. he next equipped his son in the same manner, and taught him how to fly, as a bird tempts her young ones from the lofty nest into the air. when all was prepared for flight he said, "icarus, my son, i charge you to keep at a moderate height, for if you fly too low the damp will clog your wings, and if too high the heat will melt them. keep near me and you will be safe." while he gave him these instructions and fitted the wings to his shoulders, the face of the father was wet with tears, and his hands trembled. he kissed the boy, not knowing that it was for the last time. then rising on his wings, he flew off, encouraging him to follow, and looked back from his own flight to see how his son managed his wings. as they flew the ploughman stopped his work to gaze, and the shepherd leaned on his staff and watched them, astonished at the sight, and thinking they were gods who could thus cleave the air. they passed samos and delos on the left and lebynthos on the right, when the boy, exulting in his career, began to leave the guidance of his companion and soar upward as if to reach heaven. the nearness of the blazing sun softened the wax which held the feathers together, and they came off. he fluttered with his arms, but no feathers remained to hold the air. while his mouth uttered cries to his father it was submerged in the blue waters of the sea, which thenceforth was called by his name. his father cried, "icarus, icarus, where are you?" at last he saw the feathers floating on the water, and bitterly lamenting his own arts, he buried the body and called the land icaria in memory of his child. daedalus arrived safe in sicily, where he built a temple to apollo, and hung up his wings, an offering to the god. daedalus was so proud of his achievements that he could not bear the idea of a rival. his sister had placed her son perdix under his charge to be taught the mechanical arts. he was an apt scholar and gave striking evidences of ingenuity. walking on the seashore he picked up the spine of a fish. imitating it, he took a piece of iron and notched it on the edge, and thus invented the saw. he put two pieces of iron together, connecting them at one end with a rivet, and sharpening the other ends, and made a pair of compasses. daedalus was so envious of his nepnew's performances that he took an opportunity, when they were together one day on the top of a high tower, to push him off. but minerva, who favors ingenuity, saw him falling, and arrested his fate by changing him into a bird called after his name, the partridge. this bird does not build his nest in the trees, nor take lofty flights, but nestles in the hedges, and mindful of his fall, avoids high places. the death of icarus is told in the following lines by darwin: "... with melting wax and loosened strings sunk hapless icarus on unfaithful wings; headlong he rushed through the affrighted air, with limbs distorted and dishevelled hair; his scattered plumage danced upon the wave, and sorrowing nereids decked his watery grave; o'er his pale corse their pearly sea-flowers shed, and strewed with crimson moss his marble bed; struck in their coral towers the passing bell, and wide in ocean tolled his echoing knell." castor and pollux castor and pollux were the offspring of leda and the swan, under which disguise jupiter had concealed himself. leda gave birth to an egg from which sprang the twins. helen, so famous afterwards as the cause of the trojan war, was their sister. when theseus and his friend pirithous had carried off helen from sparta, the youthful heroes castor and pollux, with their followers, hastened to her rescue. theseus was absent from attica and the brothers were successful in recovering their sister. castor was famous for taming and managing horses, and pollux for skill in boxing. they were united by the warmest affection and inseparable in all their enterprises. they accompanied the argonautic expedition. during the voyage a storm arose, and orpheus prayed to the samothracian gods, and played on his harp, whereupon the storm ceased and stars appeared on the heads of the brothers. from this incident, castor and pollux came afterwards to be considered the patron deities of seamen and voyagers, and the lambent flames, which in certain states of the atmosphere play round the sails and masts of vessels, were called by their names. after the argonautic expedition, we find castor and pollux engaged in a war with idas and lynceus. castor was slain, and pollux, inconsolable for the loss of his brother, besought jupiter to be permitted to give his own life as a ransom for him. jupiter so far consented as to allow the two brothers to enjoy the boon of life alternately, passing one day under the earth and the next in the heavenly abodes. according to another form of the story, jupiter rewarded the attachment of the brothers by placing them among the stars as gemini the twins. they received divine honors under the name of dioscuri (sons of jove). they were believed to have appeared occasionally in later times, taking part with one side or the other, in hard-fought fields, and were said on such occasions to be mounted on magnificent white steeds. thus in the early history of rome they are said to have assisted the romans at the battle of lake regillus, and after the victory a temple was erected in their honor on the spot where they appeared. macaulay, in his "lays of ancient rome," thus alludes to the legend: "so like they were, no mortal might one from other know; white as snow their armor was, their steeds were white as snow. never on earthly anvil did such rare armor gleam, and never did such gallant steeds drink of an earthly stream. "back comes the chief in triumph who in the hour of fight hath seen the great twin brethren in harness on his right. safe comes the ship to haven, through billows and through gales. if once the great twin brethren sit shining on the sails." chapter xxi bacchus--ariadne bacchus bacchus was the son of jupiter and semele. juno, to gratify her resentment against semele, contrived a plan for her destruction. assuming the form of beroe, her aged nurse, she insinuated doubts whether it was indeed jove himself who came as a lover. heaving a sigh, she said, "i hope it will turn out so, but i can't help being afraid. people are not always what they pretend to be. if he is indeed jove, make him give some proof of it. ask him to come arrayed in all his splendors, such as he wears in heaven. that will put the matter beyond a doubt." semele was persuaded to try the experiment. she asks a favor, without naming what it is. jove gives his promise, and confirms it with the irrevocable oath, attesting the river styx, terrible to the gods themselves. then she made known her request. the god would have stopped her as she spake, but she was too quick for him. the words escaped, and he could neither unsay his promise nor her request. in deep distress he left her and returned to the upper regions. there he clothed himself in his splendors, not putting on all his terrors, as when he overthrew the giants, but what is known among the gods as his lesser panoply. arrayed in this, he entered the chamber of semele. her mortal frame could not endure the splendors of the immortal radiance. she was consumed to ashes. jove took the infant bacchus and gave him in charge to the nysaean nymphs, who nourished his infancy and childhood, and for their care were rewarded by jupiter by being placed, as the hyades, among the stars. when bacchus grew up he discovered the culture of the vine and the mode of extracting its precious juice; but juno struck him with madness, and drove him forth a wanderer through various parts of the earth. in phrygia the goddess rhea cured him and taught him her religious rites, and he set out on a progress through asia, teaching the people the cultivation of the vine. the most famous part of his wanderings is his expedition to india, which is said to have lasted several years. returning in triumph, he undertook to introduce his worship into greece, but was opposed by some princes, who dreaded its introduction on account of the disorders and madness it brought with it. as he approached his native city thebes, pentheus the king, who had no respect for the new worship, forbade its rites to be performed. but when it was known that bacchus was advancing, men and women, but chiefly the latter, young and old, poured forth to meet him and to join his triumphal march. mr. longfellow in his "drinking song" thus describes the march of bacchus: "fauns with youthful bacchus follow; ivy crowns that brow, supernal as the forehead of apollo, and possessing youth eternal. "round about him fair bacchantes, bearing cymbals, flutes and thyrses, wild from naxian groves of zante's vineyards, sing delirious verses," it was in vain pentheus remonstrated, commanded, and threatened. "go," said he to his attendants, "seize this vagabond leader of the rout and bring him to me. i will soon make him confess his false claim of heavenly parentage and renounce his counterfeit worship." it was in vain his nearest friends and wisest counsellors remonstrated and begged him not to oppose the god. their remonstrances only made him more violent. but now the attendants returned whom he had despatched to seize bacchus. they had been driven away by the bacchanals, but had succeeded in taking one of them prisoner, whom, with his hands tied behind him, they brought before the king. pentheus, beholding him with wrathful countenance, said, "fellow! you shall speedily be put to death, that your fate may be a warning to others; but though i grudge the delay of your punishment, speak, tell us who you are, and what are these new rites you presume to celebrate." the prisoner, unterrified, responded, "my name is acetes; my country is maeonia; my parents were poor people, who had no fields or flocks to leave me, but they left me their fishing rods and nets and their fisherman's trade. this i followed for some time, till growing weary of remaining in one place, i learned the pilot's art and how to guide my course by the stars. it happened as i was sailing for delos we touched at the island of dia and went ashore. next morning i sent the men for fresh water, and myself mounted the hill to observe the wind; when my men returned bringing with them a prize, as they thought, a boy of delicate appearance, whom they had found asleep. they judged he was a noble youth, perhaps a king's son, and they might get a liberal ransom for him. i observed his dress, his walk, his face. there was something in them which i felt sure was more than mortal. i said to my men, 'what god there is concealed in that form i know not, but some one there certainly is. pardon us, gentle deity, for the violence we have done you, and give success to our undertakings.' dictys, one of my best hands for climbing the mast and coming down by the ropes, and melanthus, my steersman, and epopeus, the leader of the sailor's cry, one and all exclaimed, 'spare your prayers for us.' so blind is the lust of gain! when they proceeded to put him on board i resisted them. 'this ship shall not be profaned by such impiety,' said i. 'i have a greater share in her than any of you.' but lycabas, a turbulent fellow, seized me by the throat and attempted to throw me overboard, and i scarcely saved myself by clinging to the ropes. the rest approved the deed. "then bacchus (for it was indeed he), as if shaking off his drowsiness, exclaimed, 'what are you doing with me? what is this fighting about? who brought me here? where are you going to carry me?' one of them replied, 'fear nothing; tell us where you wish to go and we will take you there.' 'naxos is my home,' said bacchus; 'take me there and you shall be well rewarded.' they promised so to do, and told me to pilot the ship to naxos. naxos lay to the right, and i was trimming the sails to carry us there, when some by signs and others by whispers signified to me their will that i should sail in the opposite direction, and take the boy to egypt to sell him for a slave. i was confounded and said, 'let some one else pilot the ship;' withdrawing myself from any further agency in their wickedness. they cursed me, and one of them, exclaiming, 'don't flatter yourself that we depend on you for our safety;' took any place as pilot, and bore away from naxos. "then the god, pretending that he had just become aware of their treachery, looked out over the sea and said in a voice of weeping, 'sailors, these are not the shores you promised to take me to; yonder island is not my home. what have i done that you should treat me so? it is small glory you will gain by cheating a poor boy.' i wept to hear him, but the crew laughed at both of us, and sped the vessel fast over the sea. all at once--strange as it may seem, it is true,--the vessel stopped, in the mid sea, as fast as if it was fixed on the ground. the men, astonished, pulled at their oars, and spread more sail, trying to make progress by the aid of both, but all in vain. ivy twined round the oars and hindered their motion, and clung to the sails, with heavy clusters of berries. a vine, laden with grapes, ran up the mast, and along the sides of the vessel. the sound of flutes was heard and the odor of fragrant wine spread all around. the god himself had a chaplet of vine leaves, and bore in his hand a spear wreathed with ivy. tigers crouched at his feet, and forms of lynxes and spotted panthers played around him. the men were seized with terror or madness; some leaped overboard; others preparing to do the same beheld their companions in the water undergoing a change, their bodies becoming flattened and ending in a crooked tail. one exclaimed, 'what miracle is this!' and as he spoke his mouth widened, his nostrils expanded, and scales covered all his body. another, endeavoring to pull the oar, felt his hands shrink up and presently to be no longer hands but fins; another, trying to raise his arms to a rope, found he had no arms, and curving his mutilated body, jumped into the sea. what had been his legs became the two ends of a crescent-shaped tail. the whole crew became dolphins and swam about the ship, now upon the surface, now under it, scattering the spray, and spouting the water from their broad nostrils. of twenty men i alone was left. trembling with fear, the god cheered me. 'fear not,' said he; 'steer towards naxos.' i obeyed, and when we arrived there, i kindled the altars and celebrated the sacred rites of bacchus." pentheus here exclaimed, "we have wasted time enough on this silly story. take him away and have him executed without delay." acetes was led away by the attendants and shut up fast in prison; but while they were getting ready the instruments of execution the prison doors came open of their own accord and the chains fell from his limbs, and when they looked for him he was nowhere to be found. pentheus would take no warning, but instead of sending others, determined to go himself to the scene of the solemnities. the mountain citheron was all alive with worshippers, and the cries of the bacchanals resounded on every side. the noise roused the anger of pentheus as the sound of a trumpet does the fire of a war- horse. he penetrated through the wood and reached an open space where the chief scene of the orgies met his eyes. at the same moment the women saw him; and first among them his own mother, agave, blinded by the god, cried out, "see there the wild boar, the hugest monster that prowls in these woods! come on, sisters! i will be the first to strike the wild boar." the whole band rushed upon him, and while he now talks less arrogantly, now excuses himself, and now confesses his crime and implores pardon, they press upon him and wound him. in vain he cries to his aunts to protect him from his mother. autonoe seized one arm, ino the other, and between them he was torn to pieces, while his mother shouted, "victory! victory! we have done it; the glory is ours!" so the worship of bacchus was established in greece. there is an allusion to the story of bacchus and the mariners in milton's "comus," at line , the story of circe will be found in chapter xxix. "bacchus that first from out the purple grapes crushed the sweet poison of misused wine, after the tuscan manners transformed, coasting the tyrrhene shore as the winds listed on circe's island fell (who knows not circe, the daughter of the sun? whose charmed cup whoever tasted lost his upright shape, and downward fell into a grovelling swine)." ariadne we have seen in the story of theseus how ariadne, the daughter of king minos, after helping theseus to escape from the labyrinth, was carried by him to the island of naxos and was left there asleep, while the ungrateful theseus pursued his way home without her. ariadne, on waking and finding herself deserted, abandoned herself to grief. but venus took pity on her, and consoled her with the promise that she should have an immortal lover, instead of the mortal one she had lost. the island where ariadne was left was the favorite island of bacchus, the same that he wished the tyrrhenian mariners to carry him to, when they so treacherously attempted to make prize of him. as ariadne sat lamenting her fate, bacchus found her, consoled her, and made her his wife. as a marriage present he gave her a golden crown, enriched with gems, and when she died, he took her crown and threw it up into the sky. as it mounted the gems grew brighter and were turned into stars, and preserving its form ariadne's crown remains fixed in the heavens as a constellation, between the kneeling hercules and the man who holds the serpent. spenser alludes to ariadne's crown, though he has made some mistakes in his mythology. it was at the wedding of pirithous, and not theseus, that the centaurs and lapithae quarrelled. "look how the crown which ariadne wore upon her ivory forehead that same day that theseus her unto his bridal bore, then the bold centaurs made that bloody fray with the fierce lapiths which did them dismay; being now placed in the firmament, through the bright heaven doth her beams display, and is unto the stars an ornament, which round about her move in order excellent." chapter xxii the rural deities--erisichthon--rhoecus--the water deities-- camenae--winds the rural deities pan, the god of woods and fields, of flocks and shepherds, dwelt in grottos, wandered on the mountains and in valleys, and amused himself with the chase or in leading the dances of the nymphs. he was fond of music, and as we have seen, the inventor of the syrinx, or shepherd's pipe, which he himself played in a masterly manner. pan, like other gods who dwelt in forests, was dreaded by those whose occupations caused them to pass through the woods by night, for the gloom and loneliness of such scenes dispose the mind to superstitious fears. hence sudden fright without any visible cause was ascribed to pan, and called a panic terror. as the name of the god signifies all, pan came to be considered a symbol of the universe and personification of nature; and later still to be regarded as a representative of all the gods and of heathenism itself. sylvanus and faunus were latin divinities, whose characteristics are so nearly the same as those of pan that we may safely consider them as the same personage under different names. the wood-nymphs, pan's partners in the dance, were but one class of nymphs. there were beside them the naiads, who presided over brooks and fountains, the oreads, nymphs of mountains and grottos, and the nereids, sea-nymphs. the three last named were immortal, but the wood-nymphs, called dryads or hamadryads, were believed to perish with the trees which had been their abode and with which they had come into existence. it was therefore an impious act wantonly to destroy a tree, and in some aggravated cases were severely punished, as in the instance of erisichthon, which we are about to record. milton in his glowing description of the early creation, thus alludes to pan as the personification of nature: "... universal pan, knit with the graces and the hours in dance, led on the eternal spring." and describing eve's abode: "... in shadier bower, more sacred or sequestered, though but feigned, pan or sylvanus never slept, nor nymph nor faunus haunted." --paradise lost, b. iv. it was a pleasing trait in the old paganism that it loved to trace in every operation of nature the agency of deity. the imagination of the greeks peopled all the regions of earth and sea with divinities, to whose agency it attributed those phenomena which our philosophy ascribes to the operation of the laws of nature. sometimes in our poetical moods we feel disposed to regret the change, and to think that the heart has lost as much as the head has gained by the substitution. the poet wordsworth thus strongly expresses this sentiment: "... great god, i'd rather be a pagan, suckled in a creed outworn, so might i, standing on this pleasant lea, have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; have sight of proteus rising from the sea, and hear old triton blow his wreathed horn." schiller, in his poem "die gotter griechenlands," expresses his regret for the overthrow of the beautiful mythology of ancient times in a way which has called forth an answer from a christian poet, mrs. e. barrett browning, in her poem called "the dead pan." the two following verses are a specimen: "by your beauty which confesses some chief beauty conquering you, by our grand heroic guesses through your falsehood at the true, we will weep not! earth shall roll heir to each god's aureole, and pan is dead. "earth outgrows the mythic fancies sung beside her in her youth; and those debonaire romances sound but dull beside the truth. phoebus' chariot course is run! look up, poets, to the sun! pan, pan is dead." these lines are founded on an early christian tradition that when the heavenly host told the shepherds at bethlehem of the birth of christ, a deep groan, heard through all the isles of greece, told that the great pan was dead, and that all the royalty of olympus was dethroned and the several deities were sent wandering in cold and darkness. so milton in his "hymn on the nativity": "the lonely mountains o'er, and the resounding shore, a voice of weeping heard and loud lament; from haunted spring and dale, edged with poplar pale, the parting genius is with sighing sent; with flower-enwoven tresses torn, the nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn." erisichthon erisichthon was a profane person and a despiser of the gods. on one occasion he presumed to violate with the axe a grove sacred to ceres. there stood in this grove a venerable oak so large that it seemed a wood in itself, its ancient trunk towering aloft, whereon votive garlands were often hung and inscriptions carved expressing the gratitude of suppliants to the nymph of the tree. often had the dryads danced round it hand in hand. its trunk measured fifteen cubits round, and it overtopped the other trees as they overtopped the shrubbery. but for all that, erisichthon saw no reason why he should spare it and he ordered his servants to cut it down. when he saw them hesitate he snatched an axe from one, and thus impiously exclaimed: "i care not whether it be a tree beloved of the goddess or not; were it the goddess herself it should come down if it stood in my way." so saying, he lifted the axe and the oak seemed to shudder and utter a groan. when the first blow fell upon the trunk blood flowed from the wound. all the bystanders were horror-struck, and one of them ventured to remonstrate and hold back the fatal axe. erisichthon, with a scornful look, said to him, "receive the reward of your piety;" and turned against him the weapon which he had held aside from the tree, gashed his body with many wounds, and cut off his head. then from the midst of the oak came a voice, "i who dwell in this tree am a nymph beloved of ceres, and dying by your hands forewarn you that punishment awaits you." he desisted not from his crime, and at last the tree, sundered by repeated blows and drawn by ropes, fell with a crash and prostrated a great part of the grove in its fall. the dryads in dismay at the loss of their companion and at seeing the pride of the forest laid low, went in a body to ceres, all clad in garments of mourning, and invoked punishment upon erisichthon. she nodded her assent, and as she bowed her head the grain ripe for harvest in the laden fields bowed also. she planned a punishment so dire that one would pity him, if such a culprit as he could be pitied,--to deliver him over to famine. as ceres herself could not approach famine, for the fates have ordained that these two goddesses shall never come together, she called an oread from her mountain and spoke to her in these words: "there is a place in the farthest part of ice-clad scythia, a sad and sterile region without trees and without crops. cold dwells there, and fear and shuddering, and famine. go and tell the last to take possession of the bowels of erisichthon. let not abundance subdue her, nor the power of my gifts drive her away. be not alarmed at the distance" (for famine dwells very far from ceres), "but take my chariot. the dragons are fleet and obey the rein, and will take you through the air in a short time." so she gave her the reins, and she drove away and soon reached scythia. on arriving at mount caucasus she stopped the dragons and found famine in a stony field, pulling up with teeth and claws the scanty herbage. her hair was rough, her eyes sunk, her face pale, her lips blanched, her jaws covered with dust, and her skin drawn tight, so as to show all her bones. as the oread saw her afar off (for she did not dare to come near), she delivered the commands of ceres; and, though she stopped as short a time as possible, and kept her distance as well as she could, yet she began to feel hungry, and turned the dragons' heads and drove back to thessaly. famine obeyed the commands of ceres and sped through the air to the dwelling of erisichthon, entered the bedchamber of the guilty man, and found him asleep. she enfolded him with her wings and breathed herself into him, infusing her poison into his veins. having discharged her task, she hastened to leave the land of plenty and returned to her accustomed haunts. erisichthon still slept, and in his dreams craved food, and moved his jaws as if eating. when he awoke, his hunger was raging. without a moment's delay he would have food set before him, of whatever kind earth sea, or air produces; and complained of hunger even while he ate. what would have sufficed for a city or a nation, was not enough for him. the more he ate the more he craved. his hunger was like the sea, which receives all the rivers, yet is never filled; or like fire, that burns all the fuel that is heaped upon it, yet is still voracious for more. his property rapidly diminished under the unceasing demands of his appetite, but his hunger continued unabated. at length he had spent all and had only his daughter left, a daughter worthy of a better parent. her too he sold. she scorned to be the slave of a purchaser and as she stood by the seaside raised her hands in prayer to neptune. he heard her prayer, and though her new master was not far off and had his eye upon her a moment before, neptune changed her form and made her assume that of a fisherman busy at his occupation. her master, looking for her and seeing her in her altered form, addressed her and said, "good fisherman, whither went the maiden whom i saw just now, with hair dishevelled and in humble garb, standing about where you stand? tell me truly; so may your luck be good and not a fish nibble at your hook and get away." she perceived that her prayer was answered and rejoiced inwardly at hearing herself inquired of about herself. she replied, "pardon me, stranger, but i have been so intent upon my line that i have seen nothing else; but i wish i may never catch another fish if i believe any woman or other person except myself to have been hereabouts for some time." he was deceived and went his way, thinking his slave had escaped. then she resumed her own form. her father was well pleased to find her still with him, and the money too that he got by the sale of her; so he sold her again. but she was changed by the favor of neptune as often as she was sold, now into a horse, now a bird, now an ox, and now a stag,--got away from her purchasers and came home. by this base method the starving father procured food; but not enough for his wants, and at last hunger compelled him to devour his limbs, and he strove to nourish his body by eating his body, till death relieved him from the vengeance of ceres. rhoecus the hamadryads could appreciate services as well as punish injuries. the story of rhoecus proves this. rhoecus, happening to see an oak just ready to fall, ordered his servants to prop it up. the nymph, who had been on the point of perishing with the tree, came and expressed her gratitude to him for having saved her life and bade him ask what reward he would. rhoecus boldly asked her love and the nymph yielded to his desire. she at the same time charged him to be constant and told him that a bee should be her messenger and let him know when she would admit his society. one time the bee came to rhoecus when he was playing at draughts and he carelessly brushed it away. this so incensed the nymph that she deprived him of sight. our countryman, j. r. lowell, has taken this story for the subject of one of his shorter poems. he introduces it thus: "hear now this fairy legend of old greece, as full of freedom, youth and beauty still, as the immortal freshness of that grace carved for all ages on some attic frieze." the water deities oceanus and tethys were the titans who ruled over the watery element. when jove and his brothers overthrew the titans and assumed their power, neptune and amphitrite succeeded to the dominion of the waters in place of oceanus and tethys. neptune neptune was the chief of the water deities. the symbol of his power was the trident, or spear with three points, with which he used to shatter rocks, to call forth or subdue storms, to shake the shores and the like. he created the horse and was the patron of horse races. his own horses had brazen hoofs and golden manes. they drew his chariot over the sea, which became smooth before him, while the monsters of the deep gambolled about his path. amphitrite amphitrite was the wife of neptune. she was the daughter of nereus and doris, and the mother of triton. neptune, to pay his court to amphitrite, came riding on a dolphin. having won her he rewarded the dolphin by placing him among the stars. nereus and doris nereus and doris were the parents of the nereids, the most celebrated of whom were amphitrite, thetis, the mother of achilles, and galatea, who was loved by the cyclops polyphemus. nereus was distinguished for his knowledge and his love of truth and justice, whence he was termed an elder; the gift of prophecy was also assigned to him. triton and proteus triton was the son of neptune and amphitrite, and the poets make him his father's trumpeter. proteus was also a son of neptune. he, like nereus, is styled a sea-elder for his wisdom and knowledge of future events. his peculiar power was that of changing his shape at will. thetis thetis, the daughter of nereus and doris, was so beautiful that jupiter himself sought her in marriage; but having learned from prometheus the titan that thetis should bear a son who should grow greater than his father, jupiter desisted from his suit and decreed that thetis should be the wife of a mortal. by the aid of chiron the centaur, peleus succeeded in winning the goddess for his bride and their son was the renowned achilles. in our chapter on the trojan war it will appear that thetis was a faithful mother to him, aiding him in all difficulties, and watching over his interests from the first to the last. leucothea and palaemon ino, the daughter of cadmus and wife of athamas, flying from her frantic husband with her little son melicertes in her arms, sprang from a cliff into the sea. the gods, out of compassion, made her a goddess of the sea, under the name of leucothea, and him a god, under that of palaemon. both were held powerful to save from shipwreck and were invoked by sailors. palaemon was usually represented riding on a dolphin. the isthmian games were celebrated in his honor. he was called portunus by the romans, and believed to have jurisdiction of the ports and shores. milton alludes to all these deities in the song at the conclusion of "comus": "... sabrina fair, listen and appear to us, in name of great oceanus; by the earth-shaking neptune's mace, and tethys' grave, majestic pace, by hoary nereus' wrinkled look, and the carpathian wizard's hook, [footnote: proteus] by scaly triton's winding shell, and old soothsaying glaucus' spell, by leucothea's lovely hands, and her son who rules the strands. by thetis' tinsel-slippered feet, and the songs of sirens sweet;" etc. armstrong, the poet of the "art of preserving health," under the inspiration of hygeia, the goddess of health, thus celebrates the naiads. paeon is a name both of apollo and aesculapius. "come, ye naiads! to the fountains lead! propitious maids! the task remains to sing your gifts (so paeon, so the powers of health command), to praise your crystal element. o comfortable streams! with eager lips and trembling hands the languid thirsty quaff new life in you; fresh vigor fills their veins. no warmer cups the rural ages knew, none warmer sought the sires of humankind; happy in temperate peace their equal days felt not the alternate fits of feverish mirth and sick dejection; still serene and pleased, blessed with divine immunity from ills, long centuries they lived; their only fate was ripe old age, and rather sleep than death." the camenae by this name the latins designated the muses, but included under it also some other deities, principally nymphs of fountains. egeria was one of them, whose fountain and grotto are still shown. it was said that numa, the second king of rome, was favored by this nymph with secret interviews, in which she taught him those lessons of wisdom and of law which he imbodied in the institutions of his rising nation. after the death of numa the nymph pined away and was changed into a fountain. byron, in "childe harold," canto iv., thus alludes to egeria and her grotto: "here didst thou dwell, in this enchanted cover, egeria! all thy heavenly bosom beating for the far footsteps of thy mortal lover; the purple midnight veiled that mystic meeting with her most starry canopy;" etc. tennyson, also, in his "palace of art," gives us a glimpse of the royal lover expecting the interview: "holding one hand against his ear, to list a footfall ere he saw the wood-nymph, stayed the tuscan king to hear of wisdom and of law." the winds when so many less active agencies were personified, it is not to be supposed that the winds failed to be so. they were boreas or aquilo, the north wind; zephyrus or favonius, the west; notus or auster, the south; and eurus, the east. the first two have been chiefly celebrated by the poets, the former as the type of rudeness, the latter of gentleness. boreas loved the nymph orithyia, and tried to play the lover's part, but met with poor success. it was hard for him to breathe gently, and sighing was out of the question. weary at last of fruitless endeavors, he acted out his true character, seized the maiden and carried her off. their children were zetes and calais, winged warriors, who accompanied the argonautic expedition, and did good service in an encounter with those monstrous birds the harpies. zephyrus was the lover of flora. milton alludes to them in "paradise lost," where he describes adam waking and contemplating eve still asleep. "... he on his side leaning half raised, with looks of cordial love, hung over her enamored, and beheld beauty which, whether waking or asleep, shot forth peculiar graces; then with voice, mild as when zephyrus on flora breathes, her hand soft touching, whispered thus: 'awake! my fairest, my espoused, my latest found, heaven's last, best gift, my ever-new delight.'" dr. young, the poet of the "night thoughts," addressing the idle and luxurious, says: "ye delicate! who nothing can support (yourselves most insupportable) for whom the winter rose must blow, ... ... and silky soft favonius breathe still softer or be chid!" chapter xxiii achelous and hercules--admetus and alcestis--antigone--penelope achelous and hercules the river-god achelous told the story of erisichthon to theseus and his companions, whom he was entertaining at his hospitable board, while they were delayed on their journey by the overflow of his waters. having finished his story, he added, "but why should i tell of other persons' transformations when i myself am an instance of the possession of this power? sometimes i become a serpent, and sometimes a bull, with horns on my head. or i should say i once could do so; but now i have but one horn, having lost one." and here he groaned and was silent. theseus asked him the cause of his grief, and how he lost his horn. to which question the river-god replied as follows: "who likes to tell of his defeats? yet i will not hesitate to relate mine, comforting myself with the thought of the greatness of my conqueror, for it was hercules. perhaps you have heard of the fame of dejanira, the fairest of maidens, whom a host of suitors strove to win. hercules and myself were of the number, and the rest yielded to us two. he urged in his behalf his descent from jove and his labors by which he had exceeded the exactions of juno, his stepmother. i, on the other hand, said to the father of the maiden, 'behold me, the king of the waters that flow through your land. i am no stranger from a foreign shore, but belong to the country, a part of your realm. let it not stand in my way that royal juno owes me no enmity nor punishes me with heavy tasks. as for this man, who boasts himself the son of jove, it is either a false pretence, or disgraceful to him if true, for it cannot be true except by his mother's shame.' as i said this hercules scowled upon me, and with difficulty restrained his rage. 'my hand will answer better than my tongue,' said he. 'i yield to you the victory in words, but trust my cause to the strife of deeds.' with that he advanced towards me, and i was ashamed, after what i had said, to yield. i threw off my green vesture and presented myself for the struggle. he tried to throw me, now attacking my head, now my body. my bulk was my protection, and he assailed me in vain. for a time we stopped, then returned to the conflict. we each kept our position, determined not to yield, foot to foot, i bending over him, clenching his hand in mine, with my forehead almost touching his. thrice hercules tried to throw me off, and the fourth time he succeeded, brought me to the ground, and himself upon my back. i tell you the truth, it was as if a mountain had fallen on me. i struggled to get my arms at liberty, panting and reeking with perspiration. he gave me no chance to recover, but seized my throat. my knees were on the earth and my mouth in the dust. "finding that i was no match for him in the warrior's art, i resorted to others and glided away in the form of a serpent. i curled my body in a coil and hissed at him with my forked tongue. he smiled scornfully at this, and said, 'it was the labor of my infancy to conquer snakes.' so saying he clasped my neck with his hands. i was almost choked, and struggled to get my neck out of his grasp. vanquished in this form, i tried what alone remained to me and assumed the form of a bull. he grasped my neck with his arm, and dragging my head down to the ground, overthrew me on the sand. nor was this enough. his ruthless hand rent my horn from my head. the naiades took it, consecrated it, and filled it with fragrant flowers. plenty adopted my horn and made it her own, and called it 'cornucopia.'" the ancients were fond of finding a hidden meaning in their mythological tales. they explain this fight of achelous with hercules by saying achelous was a river that in seasons of rain overflowed its banks. when the fable says that achelous loved dejanira, and sought a union with her, the meaning is that the river in its windings flowed through part of dejanira's kingdom. it was said to take the form of a snake because of its winding, and of a bull because it made a brawling or roaring in its course. when the river swelled, it made itself another channel. thus its head was horned. hercules prevented the return of these periodical overflows by embankments and canals; and therefore he was said to have vanquished the river-god and cut off his horn. finally, the lands formerly subject to overflow, but now redeemed, became very fertile, and this is meant by the horn of plenty. there is another account of the origin of the cornucopia. jupiter at his birth was committed by his mother rhea to the care of the daughters of melisseus, a cretan king. they fed the infant deity with the milk of the goat amalthea. jupiter broke off one of the horns of the goat and gave it to his nurses, and endowed it with the wonderful power of becoming filled with whatever the possessor might wish. the name of amalthea is also given by some writers to the mother of bacchus. it is thus used by milton, "paradise lost," book iv.: "... that nyseian isle, girt with the river triton, where old cham, whom gentiles ammon call, and libyan jove, hid amalthea and her florid son, young bacchus, from his stepdame rhea's eye." admetus and alcestis aesculapius, the son of apollo, was endowed by his father with such skill in the healing art that he even restored the dead to life. at this pluto took alarm, and prevailed on jupiter to launch a thunderbolt at aesculapius. apollo was indignant at the destruction of his son, and wreaked his vengeance on the innocent workmen who had made the thunderbolt. these were the cyclopes, who have their workshop under mount aetna, from which the smoke and flames of their furnaces are constantly issuing. apollo shot his arrows at the cyclopes, which so incensed jupiter that he condemned him as a punishment to become the servant of a mortal for the space of one year. accordingly apollo went into the service of admetus, king of thessaly, and pastured his flocks for him on the verdant banks of the river amphrysos. admetus was a suitor, with others, for the hand of alcestis, the daughter of pelias, who promised her to him who should come for her in a chariot drawn by lions and boars. this task admetus performed by the assistance of his divine herdsman, and was made happy in the possession of alcestis. but admetus fell ill, and being near to death, apollo prevailed on the fates to spare him on condition that some one would consent to die in his stead. admetus, in his joy at this reprieve, thought little of the ransom, and perhaps remembering the declarations of attachment which he had often heard from his courtiers and dependents fancied that it would be easy to find a substitute. but it was not so. brave warriors, who would willingly have perilled their lives for their prince, shrunk from the thought of dying for him on the bed of sickness; and old servants who had experienced his bounty and that of his house from their childhood up, were not willing to lay down the scanty remnant of their days to show their gratitude. men asked, "why does not one of his parents do it? they cannot in the course of nature live much longer, and who can feel like them the call to rescue the life they gave from an untimely end?" but the parents, distressed though they were at the thought of losing him, shrunk from the call. then alcestis, with a generous self- devotion, proffered herself as the substitute. admetus, fond as he was of life, would not have submitted to receive it at such a cost; but there was no remedy. the condition imposed by the fates had been met, and the decree was irrevocable. alcestis sickened as admetus revived, and she was rapidly sinking to the grave. just at this time hercules arrived at the palace of admetus, and found all the inmates in great distress for the impending loss of the devoted wife and beloved mistress. hercules, to whom no labor was too arduous, resolved to attempt her rescue. he went and lay in wait at the door of the chamber of the dying queen, and when death came for his prey, he seized him and forced him to resign his victim. alcestis recovered, and was restored to her husband. milton alludes to the story of alcestis in his sonnet "on his deceased wife:" "methought i saw my late espoused saint brought to me like alcestis from the grave, whom jove's great son to her glad husband gave, rescued from death by force, though pale and faint." j. r. lowell has chosen the "shepherd of king admetus" for the subject of a short poem. he makes that event the first introduction of poetry to men. "men called him but a shiftless youth, in whom no good they saw, and yet unwittingly, in truth, they made his careless words their law. "and day by day more holy grew each spot where he had trod, till after-poets only knew their first-born brother was a god." antigone a large proportion both of the interesting persons and of the exalted acts of legendary greece belongs to the female sex. antigone was as bright an example of filial and sisterly fidelity as was alcestis of connubial devotion. she was the daughter of oedipus and jocasta, who with all their descendants were the victims of an unrelenting fate, dooming them to destruction. oedipus in his madness had torn out his eyes, and was driven forth from his kingdom thebes, dreaded and abandoned by all men, as an object of divine vengeance. antigone, his daughter, alone shared his wanderings and remained with him till he died, and then returned to thebes. her brothers, eteocles and polynices, had agreed to share the kingdom between them, and reign alternately year by year. the first year fell to the lot of eteocles, who, when his time expired, refused to surrender the kingdom to his brother. polynices fled to adrastus, king of argos, who gave him his daughter in marriage, and aided him with an army to enforce his claim to the kingdom. this led to the celebrated expedition of the "seven against thebes," which furnished ample materials for the epic and tragic poets of greece. amphiaraus, the brother-in-law of adrastus, opposed the enterprise, for he was a soothsayer, and knew by his art that no one of the leaders except adrastus would live to return. but amphiaraus, on his marriage to eriphyle, the king's sister, had agreed that whenever he and adrastus should differ in opinion, the decision should be left to eriphyle. polynices, knowing this, gave eriphyle the collar of harmonia, and thereby gained her to his interest. this collar or necklace was a present which vulcan had given to harmonia on her marriage with cadmus, and polynices had taken it with him on his flight from thebes. eriphyle could not resist so tempting a bribe, and by her decision the war was resolved on, and amphiaraus went to his certain fate. he bore his part bravely in the contest, but could not avert his destiny. pursued by the enemy, he fled along the river, when a thunderbolt launched by jupiter opened the ground, and he, his chariot, and his charioteer were swallowed up. it would not be in place here to detail all the acts of heroism or atrocity which marked the contest; but we must not omit to record the fidelity of evadne as an offset to the weakness of eriphyle. capaneus, the husband of evadne, in the ardor of the fight declared that he would force his way into the city in spite of jove himself. placing a ladder against the wall he mounted, but jupiter, offended at his impious language, struck him with a thunderbolt. when his obsequies were celebrated, evadne cast herself on his funeral pile and perished. early in the contest eteocles consulted the soothsayer tiresias as to the issue. tiresias in his youth had by chance seen minerva bathing. the goddess in her wrath deprived him of his sight, but afterwards relenting gave him in compensation the knowledge of future events. when consulted by eteocles, he declared that victory should fall to thebes if menoeceus, the son of creon, gave himself a voluntary victim. the heroic youth, learning the response, threw away his life in the first encounter. the siege continued long, with various success. at length both hosts agreed that the brothers should decide their quarrel by single combat. they fought and fell by each other's hands. the armies then renewed the fight, and at last the invaders were forced to yield, and fled, leaving their dead unburied. creon, the uncle of the fallen princes, now become king, caused eteocles to be buried with distinguished honor, but suffered the body of polynices to lie where it fell, forbidding every one on pain of death to give it burial. antigone, the sister of polynices, heard with indignation the revolting edict which consigned her brother's body to the dogs and vultures, depriving it of those rites which were considered essential to the repose of the dead. unmoved by the dissuading counsel of an affectionate but timid sister, and unable to procure assistance, she determined to brave the hazard, and to bury the body with her own hands. she was detected in the act, and creon gave orders that she should be buried alive, as having deliberately set at naught the solemn edict of the city. her lover, haemon, the son of creon, unable to avert her fate, would not survive her, and fell by his own hand. antigone forms the subject of two fine tragedies of the grecian poet sophocles. mrs. jameson, in her "characteristics of women," has compared her character with that of cordelia, in shakspeare's "king lear." the perusal of her remarks cannot fail to gratify our readers. the following is the lamentation of antigone over oedipus, when death has at last relieved him from his sufferings: "alas! i only wished i might have died with my poor father; wherefore should i ask for longer life? o, i was fond of misery with him; e'en what was most unlovely grew beloved when he was with me. o my dearest father, beneath the earth now in deep darkness hid, worn as thou wert with age, to me thou still wast dear, and shalt be ever." --francklin's sophocles. penelope penelope is another of those mythic heroines whose beauties were rather those of character and conduct than of person. she was the daughter of icarius, a spartan prince. ulysses, king of ithaca, sought her in marriage, and won her, over all competitors. when the moment came for the bride to leave her father's house, icarius, unable to bear the thoughts of parting with his daughter, tried to persuade her to remain with him, and not accompany her husband to ithaca. ulysses gave penelope her choice, to stay or go with him. penelope made no reply, but dropped her veil over her face. icarius urged her no further, but when she was gone erected a statue to modesty on the spot where they parted. ulysses and penelope had not enjoyed their union more than a year when it was interrupted by the events which called ulysses to the trojan war. during his long absence, and when it was doubtful whether he still lived, and highly improbable that he would ever return, penelope was importuned by numerous suitors, from whom there seemed no refuge but in choosing one of them for her husband. penelope, however, employed every art to gain time, still hoping for ulysses' return. one of her arts of delay was engaging in the preparation of a robe for the funeral canopy of laertes, her husband's father. she pledged herself to make her choice among the suitors when the robe was finished. during the day she worked at the robe, but in the night she undid the work of the day. this is the famous penelope's web, which is used as a proverbial expression for anything which is perpetually doing but never done. the rest of penelope's history will be told when we give an account of her husband's adventures. chapter xxiv orpheus and eurydice--aristaeus--amphion--linus--thamyris-- marsyas--melampus--musaeus orpheus and eurydice orpheus was the son of apollo and the muse calliope. he was presented by his father with a lyre and taught to play upon it, which he did to such perfection that nothing could withstand the charm of his music. not only his fellow-mortals but wild beasts were softened by his strains, and gathering round him laid by their fierceness, and stood entranced with his lay. nay, the very trees and rocks were sensible to the charm. the former crowded round him and the latter relaxed somewhat of their hardness, softened by his notes. hymen had been called to bless with his presence the nuptials of orpheus with eurydice; but though he attended, he brought no happy omens with him. his very torch smoked and brought tears into their eyes. in coincidence with such prognostics, eurydice, shortly after her marriage, while wandering with the nymphs, her companions, was seen by the shepherd aristaeus, who was struck with her beauty and made advances to her. she fled, and in flying trod upon a snake in the grass, was bitten in the foot, and died. orpheus sang his grief to all who breathed the upper air, both gods and men, and finding it all unavailing resolved to seek his wife in the regions of the dead. he descended by a cave situated on the side of the promontory of taenarus and arrived at the stygian realm. he passed through crowds of ghosts and presented himself before the throne of pluto and proserpine. accompanying the words with the lyre, he sung, "o deities of the underworld, to whom all we who live must come, hear my words, for they are true. i come not to spy out the secrets of tartarus, nor to try my strength against the three-headed dog with snaky hair who guards the entrance. i come to seek my wife, whose opening years the poisonous viper's fang has brought to an untimely end. love has led me here, love, a god all powerful with us who dwell on the earth, and, if old traditions say true, not less so here. i implore you by these abodes full of terror, these realms of silence and uncreated things, unite again the thread of eurydice's life. we all are destined to you and sooner or later must pass to your domain. she too, when she shall have filled her term of life, will rightly be yours. but till then grant her to me, i beseech you. if you deny me i cannot return alone; you shall triumph in the death of us both." as he sang these tender strains, the very ghosts shed tears. tantalus, in spite of his thirst, stopped for a moment his efforts for water, ixion's wheel stood still, the vulture ceased to tear the giant's liver, the daughters of danaus rested from their task of drawing water in a sieve, and sisyphus sat on his rock to listen. then for the first time, it is said, the cheeks of the furies were wet with tears. proserpine could not resist, and pluto himself gave way. eurydice was called. she came from among the new-arrived ghosts, limping with her wounded foot. orpheus was permitted to take her away with him on one condition, that he should not turn around to look at her till they should have reached the upper air. under this condition they proceeded on their way, he leading, she following, through passages dark and steep, in total silence, till they had nearly reached the outlet into the cheerful upper world, when orpheus, in a moment of forgetfulness, to assure himself that she was still following, cast a glance behind him, when instantly she was borne away. stretching out their arms to embrace each other, they grasped only the air! dying now a second time, she yet cannot reproach her husband, for how can she blame his impatience to behold her? "farewell," she said, "a last farewell,"--and was hurried away, so fast that the sound hardly reached his ears. orpheus endeavored to follow her, and besought permission to return and try once more for her release; but the stern ferryman repulsed him and refused passage. seven days he lingered about the brink, without food or sleep; then bitterly accusing of cruelty the powers of erebus, he sang his complaints to the rocks and mountains, melting the hearts of tigers and moving the oaks from their stations. he held himself aloof from womankind, dwelling constantly on the recollection of his sad mischance. the thracian maidens tried their best to captivate him, but he repulsed their advances. they bore with him as long as they could; but finding him insensible one day, excited by the rites of bacchus, one of them exclaimed, "see yonder our despiser!" and threw at him her javelin. the weapon, as soon as it came within the sound of his lyre, fell harmless at his feet. so did also the stones that they threw at him. but the women raised a scream and drowned the voice of the music, and then the missiles reached him and soon were stained with his blood. the maniacs tore him limb from limb, and threw his head and his lyre into the river hebrus, down which they floated, murmuring sad music, to which the shores responded a plaintive symphony. the muses gathered up the fragments of his body and buried them at libethra, where the nightingale is said to sing over his grave more sweetly than in any other part of greece. his lyre was placed by jupiter among the stars. his shade passed a second time to tartarus, where he sought out his eurydice and embraced her with eager arms. they roam the happy fields together now, sometimes he leading, sometimes she; and orpheus gazes as much as he will upon her, no longer incurring a penalty for a thoughtless glance. the story of orpheus has furnished pope with an illustration of the power of music, for his "ode for st. cecilia's day" the following stanza relates the conclusion of the story: "but soon, too soon the lover turns his eyes; again she falls, again she dies, she dies! how wilt thou now the fatal sisters move? no crime was thine, if't is no crime to love. now under hanging mountains, beside the falls of fountains, or where hebrus wanders, rolling in meanders, all alone, he makes his moan, and calls her ghost, forever, ever, ever lost! now with furies surrounded, despairing, confounded, he trembles, he glows, amidst rhodope's snows see, wild as the winds o'er the desert he flies; hark! haemus resounds with the bacchanals' cries; ah, see, he dies! yet even in death eurydice he sung, eurydice still trembled on his tongue: eurydice the woods eurydice the floods eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung" the superior melody of the nightingale's song over the grave of orpheus is alluded to by southey in his "thalaba": "then on his ear what sounds of harmony arose' far music and the distance-mellowed song from bowers of merriment, the waterfall remote, the murmuring of the leafy groves; the single nightingale perched in the rosier by, so richly toned, that never from that most melodious bird singing a love song to his brooding mate, did thracian shepherd by the grave of orpheus hear a sweeter melody, though there the spirit of the sepulchre all his own power infuse, to swell the incense that he loves" aristaeus, the bee-keeper man avails himself of the instincts of the inferior animals for his own advantage. hence sprang the art of keeping bees. honey must first have been known as a wild product, the bees building their structures in hollow trees or holes in the rocks, or any similar cavity that chance offered. thus occasionally the carcass of a dead animal would be occupied by the bees for that purpose. it was no doubt from some such incident that the superstition arose that the bees were engendered by the decaying flesh of the animal; and virgil, in the following story, shows how this supposed fact may be turned to account for renewing the swarm when it has been lost by disease or accident: aristaeus, who first taught the management of bees, was the son of the water-nymph cyrene. his bees had perished, and he resorted for aid to his mother. he stood at the river side and thus addressed her: "o mother, the pride of my life is taken from me! i have lost my precious bees. my care and skill have availed me nothing, and you my mother have not warded off from me the blow of misfortune." his mother heard these complaints as she sat in her palace at the bottom of the river, with her attendant nymphs around her. they were engaged in female occupations, spinning and weaving, while one told stories to amuse the rest. the sad voice of aristaeus interrupting their occupation, one of them put her head above the water and seeing him, returned and gave information to his mother, who ordered that he should be brought into her presence. the river at her command opened itself and let him pass in, while it stood curled like a mountain on either side. he descended to the region where the fountains of the great rivers lie; he saw the enormous receptacles of waters and was almost deafened with the roar, while he surveyed them hurrying off in various directions to water the face of the earth. arriving at his mother's apartment, he was hospitably received by cyrene and her nymphs, who spread their table with the richest dainties. they first poured out libations to neptune, then regaled themselves with the feast, and after that cyrene thus addressed him: "there is an old prophet named proteus, who dwells in the sea and is a favorite of neptune, whose herd of sea-calves he pastures. we nymphs hold him in great respect, for he is a learned sage and knows all things, past, present, and to come. he can tell you, my son, the cause of the mortality among your bees, and how you may remedy it. but he will not do it voluntarily, however you may entreat him. you must compel him by force. if you seize him and chain him, he will answer your questions in order to get released, for he cannot by all his arts get away if you hold fast the chains. i will carry you to his cave, where he comes at noon to take his midday repose. then you may easily secure him. but when he finds himself captured, his resort is to a power he possesses of changing himself into various forms. he will become a wild boar or a fierce tiger, a scaly dragon or lion with yellow mane. or he will make a noise like the crackling of flames or the rush of water, so as to tempt you to let go the chain, when he will make his escape. but you have only to keep him fast bound, and at last when he finds all his arts unavailing, he will return to his own figure and obey your commands." so saying she sprinkled her son with fragrant nectar, the beverage of the gods, and immediately an unusual vigor filled his frame, and courage his heart, while perfume breathed all around him. the nymph led her son to the prophet's cave and concealed him among the recesses of the rocks, while she herself took her place behind the clouds. when noon came and the hour when men and herds retreat from the glaring sun to indulge in quiet slumber, proteus issued from the water, followed by his herd of sea-calves which spread themselves along the shore. he sat on the rock and counted his herd; then stretched himself on the floor of the cave and went to sleep. aristaeus hardly allowed him to get fairly asleep before he fixed the fetters on him and shouted aloud. proteus, waking and finding himself captured, immediately resorted to his arts, becoming first a fire, then a flood, then a horrible wild beast, in rapid succession. but finding all would not do, he at last resumed his own form and addressed the youth in angry accents: "who are you, bold youth, who thus invade my abode, and what do yot want of me?" aristaeus replied, "proteus, you know already, for it is needless for any one to attempt to deceive you. and do you also cease your efforts to elude me. i am led hither by divine assistance, to know from you the cause of my misfortune and how to remedy it." at these words the prophet, fixing on him his gray eyes with a piercing look, thus spoke: "you receive the merited reward of your deeds, by which eurydice met her death, for in flying from you she trod upon a serpent, of whose bite she died. to avenge her death, the nymphs, her companions, have sent this destruction to your bees. you have to appease their anger, and thus it must be done: select four bulls, of perfect form and size, and four cows of equal beauty, build four altars to the nymphs, and sacrifice the animals, leaving their carcasses in the leafy grove. to orpheus and eurydice you shall pay such funeral honors as may allay their resentment. returning after nine days, you will examine the bodies of the cattle slain and see what will befall." aristaeus faithfully obeyed these directions. he sacrificed the cattle, he left their bodies in the grove, he offered funeral honors to the shades of orpheus and eurydice; then returning on the ninth day he examined the bodies of the animals, and, wonderful to relate! a swarm of bees had taken possession of one of the carcasses and were pursuing their labors there as in a hive. in "the task," cowper alludes to the story of aristaeus, when speaking of the ice-palace built by the empress anne of russia. he has been describing the fantastic forms which ice assumes in connection with waterfalls, etc.: "less worthy of applause though more admired because a novelty, the work of man, imperial mistress of the fur-clad russ, thy most magnificent and mighty freak, the wonder of the north. no forest fell when thou wouldst build, no quarry sent its stores t' enrich thy walls; but thou didst hew the floods and make thy marble of the glassy wave. in such a palace aristaeus found cyrene, when he bore the plaintive tale of his lost bees to her maternal ear." milton also appears to have had cyrene and her domestic scene in his mind when he describes to us sabrina, the nymph of the river severn, in the guardian-spirit's song in "comus": "sabrina fair! listen where thou art sitting under the glassy, cool, translucent wave in twisted braids of lilies knitting the loose train of thy amber-dropping hair; listen for dear honor's sake, goddess of the silver lake! listen and save." the following are other celebrated mythical poets and musicians, some of whom were hardly inferior to orpheus himself: amphion amphion was the son of jupiter and antiope, queen of thebes. with his twin brother zethus he was exposed at birth on mount cithaeron, where they grew up among the shepherds, not knowing their parentage. mercury gave amphion a lyre and taught him to play upon it, and his brother occupied himself in hunting and tending the flocks. meanwhile antiope, their mother, who had been treated with great cruelty by lycus, the usurping king of thebes, and by dirce, his wife, found means to inform her children of their rights and to summon them to her assistance. with a band of their fellow-herdsmen they attacked and slew lycus, and tying dirce by the hair of her head to a bull, let him drag her till she was dead. amphion, having become king of thebes, fortified the city with a wall. it is said that when he played on his lyre the stones moved of their own accord and took their places in the wall. see tennyson's poem of "amphion" for an amusing use made of this story. linus linus was the instructor of hercules in music, but having one day reproved his pupil rather harshly, he roused the anger of hercules, who struck him with his lyre and killed him. thamyris an ancient thracian bard, who in his presumption challenged the muses to a trial of skill, and being overcome in the contest, was deprived by them of his sight. milton alludes to him with other blind bards, when speaking of his own blindness, "paradise lost," book iii., . marsyas minerva invented the flute, and played upon it to the delight of all the celestial auditors; but the mischievous urchin cupid having dared to laugh at the queer face which the goddess made while playing, minerva threw the instrument indignantly away, and it fell down to earth, and was found by marsyas. he blew upon it, and drew from it such ravishing sounds that he was tempted to challenge apollo himself to a musical contest. the god of course triumphed, and punished marsyas by flaying him alive. melampus melampus was the first mortal endowed with prophetic powers. before his house there stood an oak tree containing a serpent's nest. the old serpents were killed by the servants, but melampus took care of the young ones and fed them carefully. one day when he was asleep under the oak the serpents licked his ears with their tongues. on awaking he was astonished to find that he now understood the language of birds and creeping things. this knowledge enabled him to foretell future events, and he became a renowned soothsayer. at one time his enemies took him captive and kept him strictly imprisoned. melampus in the silence of the night heard the woodworms in the timbers talking together, and found out by what they said that the timbers were nearly eaten through and the roof would soon fall in. he told his captors and demanded to be let out, warning them also. they took his warning, and thus escaped destruction, and rewarded melampus and held him in high honor. musaeus a semi-mythological personage who was represented by one tradition to be the son of orpheus. he is said to have written sacred poems and oracles. milton couples his name with that of orpheus in his "il penseroso": "but o, sad virgin, that thy power might raise musaeus from his bower, or bid the soul of orpheus sing such notes as warbled to the string, drew iron tears down pluto's cheek, and made hell grant what love did seek." chapter xxv arion--ibycus--simonides--sappho the poets whose adventures compose this chapter were real persons some of whose works yet remain, and their influence on poets who succeeded them is yet more important than their poetical remains. the adventures recorded of them in the following stories rest on the same authority as other narratives of the "age of fable," that is, of the poets who have told them. in their present form, the first two are translated from the german, arion from schlegel, and ibycus from schiller. arion arion was a famous musician, and dwelt in the court of periander, king of corinth, with whom he was a great favorite. there was to be a musical contest in sicily, and arion longed to compete for the prize. he told his wish to periander, who besought him like a brother to give up the thought. "pray stay with me," he said, "and be contented. he who strives to win may lose." arion answered, "a wandering life best suits the free heart of a poet. the talent which a god bestowed on me, i would fain make a source of pleasure to others. and if i win the prize, how will the enjoyment of it be increased by the consciousness of my widespread fame!" he went, won the prize, and embarked with his wealth in a corinthian ship for home. on the second morning after setting sail, the wind breathed mild and fair. "o periander," he exclaimed, "dismiss your fears! soon shall you forget them in my embrace. with what lavish offerings will we display our gratitude to the gods, and how merry will we be at the festal board!" the wind and sea continued propitious. not a cloud dimmed the firmament. he had not trusted too much to the ocean--but he had to man. he overheard the seamen exchanging hints with one another, and found they were plotting to possess themselves of his treasure. presently they surrounded him loud and mutinous, and said, "arion, you must die! if you would have a grave on shore, yield yourself to die on this spot; but if otherwise, cast yourself into the sea." "will nothing satisfy you but my life?" said he. "take my gold, and welcome. i willingly buy my life at that price." "no, no; we cannot spare you. your life would be too dangerous to us. where could we go to escape from periander, if he should know that you had been robbed by us? your gold would be of little use to us, if on returning home, we could never more be free from fear." "grant me, then," said he, "a last request, since nought will avail to save my life, that i may die, as i have lived, as becomes a bard. when i shall have sung my death song, and my harp-strings shall have ceased to vibrate, then i will bid farewell to life, and yield uncomplaining to my fate." this prayer, like the others, would have been unheeded,--they thought only of their booty,--but to hear so famous a musician, that moved their rude hearts. "suffer me," he added, "to arrange my dress. apollo will not favor me unless i be clad in my minstrel garb." he clothed his well-proportioned limbs in gold and purple fair to see, his tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adorned his arms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath, and over his neck and shoulders flowed his hair perfumed with odors. his left hand held the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he struck its chords. like one inspired, he seemed to drink the morning air and glitter in the morning ray. the seamen gazed with admiration. he strode forward to the vessel's side and looked down into the deep blue sea. addressing his lyre, he sang, "companion of my voice, come with me to the realm of shades. though cerberus may growl, we know the power of song can tame his rage. ye heroes of elysium, who have passed the darkling flood,--ye happy souls, soon shall i join your band. yet can ye relieve my grief? alas, i leave my friend behind me. thou, who didst find thy eurydice, and lose her again as soon as found; when she had vanished like a dream, how didst thou hate the cheerful light! i must away, but i will not fear. the gods look down upon us. ye who slay me unoffending, when i am no more, your time of trembling shall come. ye nereids, receive your guest, who throws himself upon your mercy!" so saying, he sprang into the deep sea. the waves covered him, and the seamen held on their way, fancying themselves safe from all danger of detection. but the strains of his music had drawn round him the inhabitants of the deep to listen, and dolphins followed the ship as if chained by a spell. while he struggled in the waves, a dolphin offered him his back, and carried him mounted thereon safe to shore. at the spot where he landed, a monument of brass was afterwards erected upon the rocky shore, to preserve the memory of the event. when arion and the dolphin parted, each to his own element, arion thus poured forth his thanks: "farewell, thou faithful, friendly fish! would that i could reward thee; but thou canst not wend with me, nor i with thee. companionship we may not have. may galatea, queen of the deep, accord thee her favor, and thou, proud of the burden, draw her chariot over the smooth mirror of the deep." arion hastened from the shore, and soon saw before him the towers of corinth. he journeyed on, harp in hand, singing as he went, full of love and happiness, forgetting his losses, and mindful only of what remained, his friend and his lyre. he entered the hospitable halls, and was soon clasped in the embrace of periander. "i come back to thee, my friend," he said. "the talent which a god bestowed has been the delight of thousands, but false knaves have stripped me of my well-earned treasure; yet i retain the consciousness of wide spread fame." then he told periander all the wonderful events that had befallen him, who heard him with amazement. "shall such wickedness triumph?" said he. "then in vain is power lodged in my hands. that we may discover the criminals, you must remain here in concealment, and so they will approach without suspicion." when the ship arrived in the harbor, he summoned the mariners before him. "have you heard anything of arion?" he inquired. "i anxiously look for his return." they replied, "we left him well and prosperous in tarentum." as they said these words, arion stepped forth and faced them. his well- proportioned limbs were arrayed in gold and purple fair to see, his tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adorned his arms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath, and over his neck and shoulders flowed his hair perfumed with odors; his left hand held the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he struck its chords. they fell prostrate at his feet, as if a lightning bolt had struck them. "we meant to murder him, and he has become a god. o earth, open and receive us!" then periander spoke. "he lives, the master of the lay! kind heaven protects the poet's life. as for you, i invoke not the spirit of vengeance; arion wishes not your blood. ye slaves of avarice, begone! seek some barbarous land, and never may aught beautiful delight your souls!" spenser represents arion, mounted on his dolphin, accompanying the train of neptune and amphitrite: "then was there heard a most celestial sound of dainty music which did next ensue, and, on the floating waters as enthroned, arion with his harp unto him drew the ears and hearts of all that goodly crew; even when as yet the dolphin which him bore through the aegean seas from pirates' view, stood still, by him astonished at his lore, and all the raging seas for joy forgot to roar." byron, in his "childe harold," canto ii., alludes to the story of arion, when, describing his voyage, he represents one of the seamen making music to entertain the rest: "the moon is up; by heaven a lovely eve! long streams of light o'er dancing waves expand; now lads on shore may sigh and maids believe; such be our fate when we return to land! meantime some rude arion's restless hand wakes the brisk harmony that sailors love; a circle there of merry listeners stand, or to some well-known measure featly move thoughtless as if on shore they still were free to rove." ibycus in order to understand the story of ibycus which follows it is necessary to remember, first, that the theatres of the ancients were immense fabrics capable of containing from ten to thirty thousand spectators, and as they were used only on festival occasions, and admission was free to all, they were usually filled. they were without roofs and open to the sky, and the performances were in the daytime. secondly, the appalling representation of the furies is not exaggerated in the story. it is recorded that aeschylus, the tragic poet, having on one occasion represented the furies in a chorus of fifty performers, the terror of the spectators was such that many fainted and were thrown into convulsions, and the magistrates forbade a like representation for the future. ibycus, the pious poet, was on his way to the chariot races and musical competitions held at the isthmus of corinth, which attracted all of grecian lineage. apollo had bestowed on him the gift of song, the honeyed lips of the poet, and he pursued his way with lightsome step, full of the god. already the towers of corinth crowning the height appeared in view, and he had entered with pious awe the sacred grove of neptune. no living object was in sight, only a flock of cranes flew overhead taking the same course as himself in their migration to a southern clime. "good luck to you, ye friendly squadrons," he exclaimed, "my companions from across the sea. i take your company for a good omen. we come from far and fly in search of hospitality. may both of us meet that kind reception which shields the stranger guest from harm!" he paced briskly on, and soon was in the middle of the wood. there suddenly, at a narrow pass, two robbers stepped forth and barred his way. he must yield or fight. but his hand, accustomed to the lyre, and not to the strife of arms, sank powerless. he called for help on men and gods, but his cry reached no defender's ear. "then here must i die," said he, "in a strange land, unlamented, cut off by the hand of outlaws, and see none to avenge my cause." sore wounded, he sank to the earth, when hoarse screamed the cranes overhead. "take up my cause, ye cranes," he said, "since no voice but yours answers to my cry." so saying he closed his eyes in death. the body, despoiled and mangled, was found, and though disfigured with wounds, was recognized by the friend in corinth who had expected him as a guest. "is it thus i find you restored to me?" he exclaimed. "i who hoped to entwine your temples with the wreath of triumph in the strife of song!" the guests assembled at the festival heard the tidings with dismay. all greece felt the wound, every heart owned its loss. they crowded round the tribunal of the magistrates, and demanded vengeance on the murderers and expiation with their blood. but what trace or mark shall point out the perpetrator from amidst the vast multitude attracted by the splendor of the feast? did he fall by the hands of robbers or did some private enemy slay him? the all-discerning sun alone can tell, for no other eye beheld it. yet not improbably the murderer even now walks in the midst of the throng, and enjoys the fruits of his crime, while vengeance seeks for him in vain. perhaps in their own temple's enclosure he defies the gods mingling freely in this throng of men that now presses into the amphitheatre. for now crowded together, row on row, the multitude fill the seats till it seems as if the very fabric would give way. the murmur of voices sounds like the roar of the sea, while the circles widening in their ascent rise tier on tier, as if they would reach the sky. and now the vast assemblage listens to the awful voice of the chorus personating the furies, which in solemn guise advances with measured step, and moves around the circuit of the theatre. can they be mortal women who compose that awful group, and can that vast concourse of silent forms be living beings? the choristers, clad in black, bore in their fleshless hands torches blazing with a pitchy flame. their cheeks were bloodless, and in place of hair writhing and swelling serpents curled around their brows. forming a circle, these awful beings sang their hymns, rending the hearts of the guilty, and enchaining all their faculties. it rose and swelled, overpowering the sound of the instruments, stealing the judgment, palsying the heart, curdling the blood. "happy the man who keeps his heart pure from guilt and crime! him we avengers touch not; he treads the path of life secure from us. but woe! woe! to him who has done the deed of secret murder. we the fearful family of night fasten ourselves upon his whole being. thinks he by flight to escape us? we fly still faster in pursuit, twine our snakes around his feet, and bring him to the ground. unwearied we pursue; no pity checks our course; still on and on, to the end of life, we give him no peace nor rest." thus the eumenides sang, and moved in solemn cadence, while stillness like the stillness of death sat over the whole assembly as if in the presence of superhuman beings; and then in solemn march completing the circuit of the theatre, they passed out at the back of the stage. every heart fluttered between illusion and reality, and every breast panted with undefined terror, quailing before the awful power that watches secret crimes and winds unseen the skein of destiny. at that moment a cry burst forth from one of the uppermost benches--"look! look! comrade, yonder are the cranes of ibycus!" and suddenly there appeared sailing across the sky a dark object which a moment's inspection showed to be a flock of cranes flying directly over the theatre. "of ibycus! did he say?" the beloved name revived the sorrow in every breast. as wave follows wave over the face of the sea, so ran from mouth to mouth the words, "of ibycus! him whom we all lament, whom some murderer's hand laid low! what have the cranes to do with him?" and louder grew the swell of voices, while like a lightning's flash the thought sped through every heart, "observe the power of the eumenides! the pious poet shall be avenged! the murderer has informed against himself. seize the man who uttered that cry and the other to whom he spoke!" the culprit would gladly have recalled his words, but it was too late. the faces of the murderers, pale with terror, betrayed their guilt. the people took them before the judge, they confessed their crime, and suffered the punishment they deserved. simonides simonides was one of the most prolific of the early poets of greece, but only a few fragments of his compositions have descended to us. he wrote hymns, triumphal odes, and elegies. in the last species of composition he particularly excelled. his genius was inclined to the pathetic, and none could touch with truer effect the chords of human sympathy. the "lamentation of danae," the most important of the fragments which remain of his poetry, is based upon the tradition that danae and her infant son were confined by order of her father, acrisius, in a chest and set adrift on the sea. the chest floated towards the island of seriphus, where both were rescued by dictys, a fisherman, and carried to polydectes, king of the country, who received and protected them. the child, perseus, when grown up became a famous hero, whose adventures have been recorded in a previous chapter. simonides passed much of his life at the courts of princes, and often employed his talents in panegyric and festal odes, receiving his reward from the munificence of those whose exploits he celebrated. this employment was not derogatory, but closely resembles that of the earliest bards, such as demodocus, described by homer, or of homer himself, as recorded by tradition. on one occasion, when residing at the court of scopas, king of thessaly, the prince desired him to prepare a poem in celebration of his exploits, to be recited at a banquet. in order to diversify his theme, simonides, who was celebrated for his piety, introduced into his poem the exploits of castor and pollux. such digressions were not unusual with the poets on similar occasions, and one might suppose an ordinary mortal might have been content to share the praises of the sons of leda. but vanity is exacting; and as scopas sat at his festal board among his courtiers and sycophants, he grudged every verse that did not rehearse his own praises. when simonides approached to receive the promised reward scopas bestowed but half the expected sum, saying, "here is payment for my portion of thy performance; castor and pollux will doubtless compensate thee for so much as relates to them." the disconcerted poet returned to his seat amidst the laughter which followed the great man's jest. in a little time he received a message that two young men on horseback were waiting without and anxious to see him. simonides hastened to the door, but looked in vain for the visitors. scarcely, however, had he left the banqueting hall when the roof fell in with a loud crash, burying scopas and all his guests beneath the ruins. on inquiring as to the appearance of the young men who had sent for him, simonides was satisfied that they were no other than castor and pollux themselves. sappho sappho was a poetess who flourished in a very early age of greek literature. of her works few fragments remain, but they are enough to establish her claim to eminent poetical genius. the story of sappho commonly alluded to is that she was passionately in love with a beautiful youth named phaon, and failing to obtain a return of affection she threw herself from the promontory of leucadia into the sea, under a superstition that those who should take that "lover's-leap" would, if not destroyed, be cured of their love. byron alludes to the story of sappho in "childe harold," canto ii.: "childe harold sailed and passed the barren spot where sad penelope o'erlooked the wave, and onward viewed the mount, not yet forgot, the lover's refuge and the lesbian's grave. dark sappho! could not verse immortal save that breast imbued with such immortal fire? "'twas on a grecian autumn's gentle eve childe harold hailed leucadia's cape afar;" etc. those who wish to know more of sappho and her "leap" are referred to the "spectator," nos. and . see also moore's "evenings in greece." chapter xxvi endymion--orion--aurora and tithonus--acis and galatea diana and endymion endymion was a beautiful youth who fed his flock on mount latmos. one calm, clear night diana, the moon, looked down and saw him sleeping. the cold heart of the virgin goddess was warmed by his surpassing beauty, and she came down to him, kissed him, and watched over him while he slept. another story was that jupiter bestowed on him the gift of perpetual youth united with perpetual sleep. of one so gifted we can have but few adventures to record. diana, it was said, took care that his fortunes should not suffer by his inactive life, for she made his flock increase, and guarded his sheep and lambs from the wild beasts. the story of endymion has a peculiar charm from the human meaning which it so thinly veils. we see in endymion the young poet, his fancy and his heart seeking in vain for that which can satisfy them, finding his favorite hour in the quiet moonlight, and nursing there beneath the beams of the bright and silent witness the melancholy and the ardor which consumes him. the story suggests aspiring and poetic love, a life spent more in dreams than in reality, and an early and welcome death.--s. g. b. the "endymion" of keats is a wild and fanciful poem, containing some exquisite poetry, as this, to the moon: "... the sleeping kine couched in thy brightness dream of fields divine. innumerable mountains rise, and rise, ambitious for the hallowing of thine eyes, and yet thy benediction passeth not one obscure hiding-place, one little spot where pleasure may be sent; the nested wren has thy fair face within its tranquil ken;" etc., etc. dr. young, in the "night thoughts," alludes to endymion thus: "... these thoughts, o night, are thine; from thee they came like lovers' secret sighs, while others slept. so cynthia, poets feign, in shadows veiled, soft, sliding from her sphere, her shepherd cheered, of her enamoured less than i of thee." fletcher, in the "faithful shepherdess," tells: "how the pale phoebe, hunting in a grove, first saw the boy endymion, from whose eyes she took eternal fire that never dies; how she conveyed him softly in a sleep, his temples bound with poppy, to the steep head of old latmos, where she stoops each night, gilding the mountain with her brother's light, to kiss her sweetest." orion orion was the son of neptune. he was a handsome giant and a mighty hunter. his father gave him the power of wading through the depths of the sea, or, as others say, of walking on its surface. orion loved merope, the daughter of oenopion, king of chios, and sought her in marriage. he cleared the island of wild beasts, and brought the spoils of the chase as presents to his beloved; but as oenopion constantly deferred his consent, orion attempted to gain possession of the maiden by violence. her father, incensed at this conduct, having made orion drunk, deprived him of his sight and cast him out on the seashore. the blinded hero followed the sound of a cyclops' hammer till he reached lemnos, and came to the forge of vulcan, who, taking pity on him, gave him kedalion, one of his men, to be his guide to the abode of the sun. placing kedalion on his shoulders, orion proceeded to the east, and there meeting the sun-god, was restored to sight by his beam. after this he dwelt as a hunter with diana, with whom he was a favorite, and it is even said she was about to marry him. her brother was highly displeased and often chid her, but to no purpose. one day, observing orion wading through the sea with his head just above the water, apollo pointed it out to his sister and maintained that she could not hit that black thing on the sea. the archer-goddess discharged a shaft with fatal aim. the waves rolled the dead body of orion to the land, and bewailing her fatal error with many tears, diana placed him among the stars, where he appears as a giant, with a girdle, sword, lion's skin, and club. sirius, his dog, follows him, and the pleiads fly before him. the pleiads were daughters of atlas, and nymphs of diana's train. one day orion saw them and became enamoured and pursued them. in their distress they prayed to the gods to change their form, and jupiter in pity turned them into pigeons, and then made them a constellation in the sky. though their number was seven, only six stars are visible, for electra, one of them, it is said left her place that she might not behold the ruin of troy, for that city was founded by her son dardanus. the sight had such an effect on her sisters that they have looked pale ever since. mr. longfellow has a poem on the "occultation of orion." the following lines are those in which he alludes to the mythic story. we must premise that on the celestial globe orion is represented as robed in a lion's skin and wielding a club. at the moment the stars of the constellation, one by one, were quenched in the light of the moon, the poet tells us "down fell the red skin of the lion into the river at his feet. his mighty club no longer beat the forehead of the bull; but he reeled as of yore beside the sea, when blinded by oenopion he sought the blacksmith at his forge, and climbing up the narrow gorge, fixed his blank eyes upon the sun." tennyson has a different theory of the pleiads: "many a night i saw the pleiads, rising through the mellow shade, glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid." --locksley hall. byron alludes to the lost pleiad: "like the lost pleiad seen no more below." see also mrs. hemans's verses on the same subject. aurora and tithonus the goddess of the dawn, like her sister the moon, was at times inspired with the love of mortals. her greatest favorite was tithonus, son of laomedon, king of troy. she stole him away, and prevailed on jupiter to grant him immortality; but, forgetting to have youth joined in the gift, after some time she began to discern, to her great mortification, that he was growing old. when his hair was quite white she left his society; but he still had the range of her palace, lived on ambrosial food, and was clad in celestial raiment. at length he lost the power of using his limbs, and then she shut him up in his chamber, whence his feeble voice might at times be heard. finally she turned him into a grasshopper. memnon was the son of aurora and tithonus. he was king of the aethiopians, and dwelt in the extreme east, on the shore of ocean. he came with his warriors to assist the kindred of his father in the war of troy. king priam received him with great honors, and listened with admiration to his narrative of the wonders of the ocean shore. the very day after his arrival, memnon, impatient of repose, led his troops to the field. antilochus, the brave son of nestor, fell by his hand, and the greeks were put to flight, when achilles appeared and restored the battle. a long and doubtful contest ensued between him and the son of aurora; at length victory declared for achilles, memnon fell, and the trojans fled in dismay. aurora, who from her station in the sky had viewed with apprehension the danger of her son, when she saw him fall, directed his brothers, the winds, to convey his body to the banks of the river esepus in paphlagonia. in the evening aurora came, accompanied by the hours and the pleiads, and wept and lamented over her son. night, in sympathy with her grief, spread the heaven with clouds; all nature mourned for the offspring of the dawn. the aethiopians raised his tomb on the banks of the stream in the grove of the nymphs, and jupiter caused the sparks and cinders of his funeral pile to be turned into birds, which, dividing into two flocks, fought over the pile till they fell into the flame. every year at the anniversary of his death they return and celebrate his obsequies in like manner. aurora remains inconsolable for the loss of her son. her tears still flow, and may be seen at early morning in the form of dew-drops on the grass. unlike most of the marvels of ancient mythology, there still exist some memorials of this. on the banks of the river nile, in egypt, are two colossal statues, one of which is said to be the statue of memnon. ancient writers record that when the first rays of the rising sun fall upon this statue a sound is heard to issue from it, which they compare to the snapping of a harp-string. there is some doubt about the identification of the existing statue with the one described by the ancients, and the mysterious sounds are still more doubtful. yet there are not wanting some modern testimonies to their being still audible. it has been suggested that sounds produced by confined air making its escape from crevices or caverns in the rocks may have given some ground for the story. sir gardner wilkinson, a late traveller, of the highest authority, examined the statue itself, and discovered that it was hollow, and that "in the lap of the statue is a stone, which on being struck emits a metallic sound, that might still be made use of to deceive a visitor who was predisposed to believe its powers." the vocal statue of memnon is a favorite subject of allusion with the poets. darwin, in his "botanic garden," says: "so to the sacred sun in memnon's fane spontaneous concords choired the matin strain; touched by his orient beam responsive rings the living lyre and vibrates all its strings; accordant aisles the tender tones prolong, and holy echoes swell the adoring song." book i., ., . acis and galatea scylla was a fair virgin of sicily, a favorite of the sea-nymphs. she had many suitors, but repelled them all, and would go to the grotto of galatea, and tell her how she was persecuted. one day the goddess, while scylla dressed her hair, listened to the story, and then replied, "yet, maiden, your persecutors are of the not ungentle race of men, whom, if you will, you can repel; but i, the daughter of nereus, and protected by such a band of sisters, found no escape from the passion of the cyclops but in the depths of the sea;" and tears stopped her utterance, which when the pitying maiden had wiped away with her delicate finger, and soothed the goddess, "tell me, dearest," said she, "the cause of your grief." galatea then said, "acis was the son of faunus and a naiad. his father and mother loved him dearly, but their love was not equal to mine. for the beautiful youth attached himself to me alone, and he was just sixteen years old, the down just beginning to darken his cheeks. as much as i sought his society, so much did the cyclops seek mine; and if you ask me whether my love for acis or my hatred of polyphemus was the stronger, i cannot tell you; they were in equal measure. o venus, how great is thy power! this fierce giant, the terror of the woods, whom no hapless stranger escaped unharmed, who defied even jove himself, learned to feel what love was, and, touched with a passion for me, forgot his flocks and his well-stored caverns. then for the first time he began to take some care of his appearance, and to try to make himself agreeable; he harrowed those coarse locks of his with a comb, and mowed his beard with a sickle, looked at his harsh features in the water, and composed his countenance. his love of slaughter, his fierceness and thirst of blood prevailed no more, and ships that touched at his island went away in safety. he paced up and down the sea-shore, imprinting huge tracks with his heavy tread, and, when weary, lay tranquilly in his cave. "there is a cliff which projects into the sea, which washes it on either side. thither one day the huge cyclops ascended, and sat down while his flocks spread themselves around. laying down his staff, which would have served for a mast to hold a vessel's sail, and taking his instrument compacted of numerous pipes, he made the hills and the waters echo the music of his song. i lay hid under a rock by the side of my beloved acis, and listened to the distant strain. it was full of extravagant praises of my beauty, mingled with passionate reproaches of my coldness and cruelty. "when he had finished he rose up, and, like a raging bull that cannot stand still, wandered off into the woods. acis and i thought no more of him, till on a sudden he came to a spot which gave him a view of us as we sat. 'i see you,' he exclaimed, 'and i will make this the last of your love-meetings.' his voice was a roar such as an angry cyclops alone could utter. aetna trembled at the sound. i, overcome with terror, plunged into the water. acis turned and fled, crying, 'save me, galatea, save me, my parents!' the cyclops pursued him, and tearing a rock from the side of the mountain hurled it at him. though only a corner of it touched him, it overwhelmed him. "all that fate left in my power i did for acis. i endowed him with the honors of his grandfather, the river-god. the purple blood flowed out from under the rock, but by degrees grew paler and looked like the stream of a river rendered turbid by rains, and in time it became clear. the rock cleaved open, and the water, as it gushed from the chasm, uttered a pleasing murmur." thus acis was changed into a river, and the river retains the name of acis. dryden, in his "cymon and iphigenia," has told the story of a clown converted into a gentleman by the power of love, in a way that shows traces of kindred to the old story of galatea and the cyclops. "what not his father's care nor tutor's art could plant with pains in his unpolished heart, the best instructor, love, at once inspired, as barren grounds to fruitfulness are fired. love taught him shame, and shame with love at strife soon taught the sweet civilities of life." chapter xxvii the trojan war minerva was the goddess of wisdom, but on one occasion she did a very foolish thing; she entered into competition with juno and venus for the prize of beauty. it happened thus: at the nuptials of peleus and thetis all the gods were invited with the exception of eris, or discord. enraged at her exclusion, the goddess threw a golden apple among the guests, with the inscription, "for the fairest." thereupon juno, venus, and minerva each claimed the apple. jupiter, not willing to decide in so delicate a matter, sent the goddesses to mount ida, where the beautiful shepherd paris was tending his flocks, and to him was committed the decision. the goddesses accordingly appeared before him. juno promised him power and riches, minerva glory and renown in war, and venus the fairest of women for his wife, each attempting to bias his decision in her own favor. paris decided in favor of venus and gave her the golden apple, thus making the two other goddesses his enemies. under the protection of venus, paris sailed to greece, and was hospitably received by menelaus, king of sparta. now helen, the wife of menelaus, was the very woman whom venus had destined for paris, the fairest of her sex. she had been sought as a bride by numerous suitors, and before her decision was made known, they all, at the suggestion of ulysses, one of their number, took an oath that they would defend her from all injury and avenge her cause if necessary. she chose menelaus, and was living with him happily when paris became their guest. paris, aided by venus, persuaded her to elope with him, and carried her to troy, whence arose the famous trojan war, the theme of the greatest poems of antiquity, those of homer and virgil. menelaus called upon his brother chieftains of greece to fulfil their pledge, and join him in his efforts to recover his wife. they generally came forward, but ulysses, who had married penelope, and was very happy in his wife and child, had no disposition to embark in such a troublesome affair. he therefore hung back and palamedes was sent to urge him. when palamedes arrived at ithaca ulysses pretended to be mad. he yoked an ass and an ox together to the plough and began to sow salt. palamedes, to try him, placed the infant telemachus before the plough, whereupon the father turned the plough aside, showing plainly that he was no madman, and after that could no longer refuse to fulfil his promise. being now himself gained for the undertaking, he lent his aid to bring in other reluctant chiefs, especially achilles. this hero was the son of that thetis at whose marriage the apple of discord had been thrown among the goddesses. thetis was herself one of the immortals, a sea-nymph, and knowing that her son was fated to perish before troy if he went on the expedition, she endeavored to prevent his going. she sent him away to the court of king lycomedes, and induced him to conceal himself in the disguise of a maiden among the daughters of the king. ulysses, hearing he was there, went disguised as a merchant to the palace and offered for sale female ornaments, among which he had placed some arms. while the king's daughters were engrossed with the other contents of the merchant's pack, achilles handled the weapons and thereby betrayed himself to the keen eye of ulysses, who found no great difficulty in persuading him to disregard his mother's prudent counsels and join his countrymen in the war. priam was king of troy, and paris, the shepherd and seducer of helen, was his son. paris had been brought up in obscurity, because there were certain ominous forebodings connected with him from his infancy that he would be the ruin of the state. these forebodings seemed at length likely to be realized, for the grecian armament now in preparation was the greatest that had ever been fitted out. agamemnon, king of mycenae, and brother of the injured menelaus, was chosen commander-in-chief. achilles was their most illustrious warrior. after him ranked ajax, gigantic in size and of great courage, but dull of intellect; diomede, second only to achilles in all the qualities of a hero; ulysses, famous for his sagacity; and nestor, the oldest of the grecian chiefs, and one to whom they all looked up for counsel. but troy was no feeble enemy. priam, the king, was now old, but he had been a wise prince and had strengthened his state by good government at home and numerous alliances with his neighbors. but the principal stay and support of his throne was his son hector, one of the noblest characters painted by heathen antiquity. he felt, from the first, a presentiment of the fall of his country, but still persevered in his heroic resistance, yet by no means justified the wrong which brought this danger upon her. he was united in marriage with andromache, and as a husband and father his character was not less admirable than as a warrior. the principal leaders on the side of the trojans, besides hector, were aeneas and deiphobus, glaucus and sarpedon. after two years of preparation the greek fleet and army assembled in the port of aulis in boeotia. here agamemnon in hunting killed a stag which was sacred to diana, and the goddess in return visited the army with pestilence, and produced a calm which prevented the ships from leaving the port. calchas, the soothsayer, thereupon announced that the wrath of the virgin goddess could only be appeased by the sacrifice of a virgin on her altar, and that none other but the daughter of the offender would be acceptable. agamemnon, however reluctant, yielded his consent, and the maiden iphigenia was sent for under the pretence that she was to be married to achilles. when she was about to be sacrificed the goddess relented and snatched her away, leaving a hind in her place, and iphigenia, enveloped in a cloud, was carried to tauris, where diana made her priestess of her temple. tennyson, in his "dream of fair women," makes iphigenia thus describe her feelings at the moment of sacrifice: "i was cut off from hope in that sad place, which yet to name my spirit loathes and fears; my father held his hand upon his face; i, blinded by my tears, "still strove to speak; my voice was thick with sighs, as in a dream. dimly i could descry the stern black-bearded kings, with wolfish eyes, waiting to see me die. "the tall masts quivered as they lay afloat, the temples and the people and the shore; one drew a sharp knife through my tender throat slowly,--and--nothing more." the wind now proving fair the fleet made sail and brought the forces to the coast of troy. the trojans came to oppose their landing, and at the first onset protesilaus fell by the hand of hector. protesilaus had left at home his wife, laodamia, who was most tenderly attached to him. when the news of his death reached her she implored the gods to be allowed to converse with him only three hours. the request was granted. mercury led protesilaus back to the upper world, and when he died a second time laodamia died with him. there was a story that the nymphs planted elm trees round his grave which grew very well till they were high enough to command a view of troy, and then withered away, while fresh branches sprang from the roots. wordsworth has taken the story of protesilaus and laodamia for the subject of a poem. it seems the oracle had declared that victory should be the lot of that party from which should fall the first victim to the war. the poet represents protesilaus, on his brief return to earth, as relating to laodamia the story of his fate: "'the wished-for wind was given; i then revolved the oracle, upon the silent sea; and if no worthier led the way, resolved that of a thousand vessels mine should be the foremost prow impressing to the strand,-- mine the first blood that tinged the trojan sand. "'yet bitter, ofttimes bitter was the pang when of thy loss i thought, beloved wife! on thee too fondly did my memory hang, and on the joys we shared in mortal life, the paths which we had trod,--these fountains, flowers; my new planned cities and unfinished towers. "'but should suspense permit the foe to cry, "behold they tremble! haughty their array, yet of their number no one dares to die?" in soul i swept the indignity away: old frailties then recurred: but lofty thought in act embodied my deliverance wrought.' "... upon the side of hellespont (such faith was entertained) a knot of spiry trees for ages grew from out the tomb of him for whom she died; and ever when such stature they had gained that ilium's walls were subject to their view, the trees' tall summits withered at the sight, a constant interchange of growth and blight!" "the iliad" the war continued without decisive results for nine years. then an event occurred which seemed likely to be fatal to the cause of the greeks, and that was a quarrel between achilles and agamemnon. it is at this point that the great poem of homer, "the iliad," begins. the greeks, though unsuccessful against troy, had taken the neighboring and allied cities, and in the division of the spoil a female captive, by name chryseis, daughter of chryses, priest of apollo, had fallen to the share of agamemnon. chryses came bearing the sacred emblems of his office, and begged the release of his daughter. agamemnon refused. thereupon chryses implored apollo to afflict the greeks till they should be forced to yield their prey. apollo granted the prayer of his priest, and sent pestilence into the grecian camp. then a council was called to deliberate how to allay the wrath of the gods and avert the plague. achilles boldly charged their misfortunes upon agamemnon as caused by his withholding chryseis. agamemnon, enraged, consented to relinquish his captive, but demanded that achilles should yield to him in her stead briseis, a maiden who had fallen to achilles' share in the division of the spoil. achilles submitted, but forthwith declared that he would take no further part in the war. he withdrew his forces from the general camp and openly avowed his intention of returning home to greece. the gods and goddesses interested themselves as much in this famous war as the parties themselves. it was well known to them that fate had decreed that troy should fall, at last, if her enemies should persevere and not voluntarily abandon the enterprise. yet there was room enough left for chance to excite by turns the hopes and fears of the powers above who took part with either side. juno and minerva, in consequence of the slight put upon their charms by paris, were hostile to the trojans; venus for the opposite cause favored them. venus enlisted her admirer mars on the same side, but neptune favored the greeks. apollo was neutral, sometimes taking one side, sometimes the other, and jove himself, though he loved the good king priam, yet exercised a degree of impartiality; not, however, without exceptions. thetis, the mother of achilles, warmly resented the injury done to her son. she repaired immediately to jove's palace and besought him to make the greeks repent of their injustice to achilles by granting success to the trojan arms. jupiter consented, and in the battle which ensued the trojans were completely successful. the greeks were driven from the field and took refuge in their ships. then agamemnon called a council of his wisest and bravest chiefs. nestor advised that an embassy should be sent to achilles to persuade him to return to the field; that agamemnon should yield the maiden, the cause of the dispute, with ample gifts to atone for the wrong he had done. agamemnon consented, and ulysses, ajax, and phoenix were sent to carry to achilles the penitent message. they performed that duty, but achilles was deaf to their entreaties. he positively refused to return to the field, and persisted in his resolution to embark for greece without delay. the greeks had constructed a rampart around their ships, and now instead of besieging troy they were in a manner besieged themselves, within their rampart. the next day after the unsuccessful embassy to achilles, a battle was fought, and the trojans, favored by jove, were successful, and succeeded in forcing a passage through the grecian rampart, and were about to set fire to the ships. neptune, seeing the greeks so pressed, came to their rescue. he appeared in the form of calchas the prophet, encouraged the warriors with his shouts, and appealed to each individually till he raised their ardor to such a pitch that they forced the trojans to give way. ajax performed prodigies of valor, and at length encountered hector. ajax shouted defiance, to which hector replied, and hurled his lance at the huge warrior. it was well aimed and struck ajax, where the belts that bore his sword and shield crossed each other on the breast. the double guard prevented its penetrating and it fell harmless. then ajax, seizing a huge stone, one of those that served to prop the ships, hurled it at hector. it struck him in the neck and stretched him on the plain. his followers instantly seized him and bore him off, stunned and wounded. while neptune was thus aiding the greeks and driving back the trojans, jupiter saw nothing of what was going on, for his attention had been drawn from the field by the wiles of juno. that goddess had arrayed herself in all her charms, and to crown all had borrowed of venus her girdle, called "cestus," which had the effect to heighten the wearer's charms to such a degree that they were quite irresistible. so prepared, juno went to join her husband, who sat on olympus watching the battle. when he beheld her she looked so charming that the fondness of his early love revived, and, forgetting the contending armies and all other affairs of state, he thought only of her and let the battle go as it would. but this absorption did not continue long, and when, upon turning his eyes downward, he beheld hector stretched on the plain almost lifeless from pain and bruises, he dismissed juno in a rage, commanding her to send iris and apollo to him. when iris came he sent her with a stern message to neptune, ordering him instantly to quit the field. apollo was despatched to heal hector's bruises and to inspirit his heart. these orders were obeyed with such speed that, while the battle still raged, hector returned to the field and neptune betook himself to his own dominions. an arrow from paris's bow wounded machaon, son of aesculapius, who inherited his father's art of healing, and was therefore of great value to the greeks as their surgeon, besides being one of their bravest warriors. nestor took machaon in his chariot and conveyed him from the field. as they passed the ships of achilles, that hero, looking out over the field, saw the chariot of nestor and recognized the old chief, but could not discern who the wounded chief was. so calling patroclus, his companion and dearest friend, he sent him to nestor's tent to inquire. patroclus, arriving at nestor's tent, saw machaon wounded, and having told the cause of his coming would have hastened away, but nestor detained him, to tell him the extent of the grecian calamities. he reminded him also how, at the time of departing for troy, achilles and himself had been charged by their respective fathers with different advice: achilles to aspire to the highest pitch of glory, patroclus, as the elder, to keep watch over his friend, and to guide his inexperience. "now," said nestor, "is the time for such influence. if the gods so please, thou mayest win him back to the common cause; but if not let him at least send his soldiers to the field, and come thou, patroclus, clad in his armor, and perhaps the very sight of it may drive back the trojans." patroclus was strongly moved with this address, and hastened back to achilles, revolving in his mind all he had seen and heard. he told the prince the sad condition of affairs at the camp of their late associates: diomede, ulysses, agamemnon, machaon, all wounded, the rampart broken down, the enemy among the ships preparing to burn them, and thus to cut off all means of return to greece. while they spoke the flames burst forth from one of the ships. achilles, at the sight, relented so far as to grant patroclus his request to lead the myrmidons (for so were achilles' soldiers called) to the field, and to lend him his armor, that he might thereby strike more terror into the minds of the trojans. without delay the soldiers were marshalled, patroclus put on the radiant armor and mounted the chariot of achilles, and led forth the men ardent for battle. but before he went, achilles strictly charged him that he should be content with repelling the foe "seek not," said he, "to press the trojans without me, lest thou add still more to the disgrace already mine." then exhorting the troops to do their best he dismissed them full of ardor to the fight. patroclus and his myrmidons at once plunged into the contest where it raged hottest; at the sight of which the joyful grecians shouted and the ships reechoed the acclaim. the trojans, at the sight of the well-known armor, struck with terror, looked everywhere for refuge. first those who had got possession of the ship and set it on fire left and allowed the grecians to retake it and extinguish the flames. then the rest of the trojans fled in dismay. ajax, menelaus, and the two sons of nestor performed prodigies of valor. hector was forced to turn his horses' heads and retire from the enclosure, leaving his men entangled in the fosse to escape as they could. patroclus drove them before him, slaying many, none daring to make a stand against him. at last sarpedon, son of jove, ventured to oppose himself in fight to patroclus. jupiter looked down upon him and would have snatched him from the fate which awaited him, but juno hinted that if he did so it would induce all others of the inhabitants of heaven to interpose in like manner whenever any of their offspring were endangered; to which reason jove yielded. sarpedon threw his spear, but missed patroclus, but patroclus threw his with better success. it pierced sarpedon's breast and he fell, and, calling to his friends to save his body from the foe, expired. then a furious contest arose for the possession of the corpse. the greeks succeeded and stripped sarpedon of his armor; but jove would not allow the remains of his son to be dishonored, and by his command apollo snatched from the midst of the combatants the body of sarpedon and committed it to the care of the twin brothers death and sleep, by whom it was transported to lycia, the native land of sarpedon, where it received due funeral rites. thus far patroclus had succeeded to his utmost wish in repelling the trojans and relieving his countrymen, but now came a change of fortune. hector, borne in his chariot, confronted him. patroclus threw a vast stone at hector, which missed its aim, but smote cebriones, the charioteer, and knocked him from the car. hector leaped from the chariot to rescue his friend, and patroclus also descended to complete his victory. thus the two heroes met face to face. at this decisive moment the poet, as if reluctant to give hector the glory, records that phoebus took part against patroclus. he struck the helmet from his head and the lance from his hand. at the same moment an obscure trojan wounded him in the back, and hector, pressing forward, pierced him with his spear. he fell mortally wounded. then arose a tremendous conflict for the body of patroclus, but his armor was at once taken possession of by hector, who retiring a short distance divested himself of his own armor and put on that of achilles, then returned to the fight. ajax and menelaus defended the body, and hector and his bravest warriors struggled to capture it. the battle raged with equal fortunes, when jove enveloped the whole face of heaven with a dark cloud. the lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and ajax, looking round for some one whom he might despatch to achilles to tell him of the death of his friend, and of the imminent danger that his remains would fall into the hands of the enemy, could see no suitable messenger. it was then that he exclaimed in those famous lines so often quoted, "father of heaven and earth! deliver thou achaia's host from darkness; clear the skies; give day; and, since thy sovereign will is such, destruction with it; but, o, give us day." --cowper. or, as rendered by pope, "... lord of earth and air! o king! o father! hear my humble prayer! dispel this cloud, the light of heaven restore; give me to see and ajax asks no more; if greece must perish we thy will obey, but let us perish in the face of day." jupiter heard the prayer and dispersed the clouds. then ajax sent antilochus to achilles with the intelligence of patroclus's death, and of the conflict raging for his remains. the greeks at last succeeded in bearing off the body to the ships, closely pursued by hector and aeneas and the rest of the trojans. achilles heard the fate of his friend with such distress that antilochus feared for a while that he would destroy himself. his groans reached the ears of his mother, thetis, far down in the deeps of ocean where she abode, and she hastened to him to inquire the cause. she found him overwhelmed with self-reproach that he had indulged his resentment so far, and suffered his friend to fall a victim to it. but his only consolation was the hope of revenge. he would fly instantly in search of hector. but his mother reminded him that he was now without armor, and promised him, if he would but wait till the morrow, she would procure for him a suit of armor from vulcan more than equal to that he had lost. he consented, and thetis immediately repaired to vulcan's palace. she found him busy at his forge making tripods for his own use, so artfully constructed that they moved forward of their own accord when wanted, and retired again when dismissed. on hearing the request of thetis, vulcan immediately laid aside his work and hastened to comply with her wishes. he fabricated a splendid suit of armor for achilles, first a shield adorned with elaborate devices, then a helmet crested with gold, then a corselet and greaves of impenetrable temper, all perfectly adapted to his form, and of consummate workmanship. it was all done in one night, and thetis, receiving it, descended with it to earth, and laid it down at achilles' feet at the dawn of day. the first glow of pleasure that achilles had felt since the death of patroclus was at the sight of this splendid armor. and now, arrayed in it, he went forth into the camp, calling all the chiefs to council. when they were all assembled he addressed them. renouncing his displeasure against agamemnon and bitterly lamenting the miseries that had resulted from it, he called on them to proceed at once to the field. agamemnon made a suitable reply, laying all the blame on ate, the goddess of discord; and thereupon complete reconcilement took place between the heroes. then achilles went forth to battle inspired with a rage and thirst for vengeance that made him irresistible. the bravest warriors fled before him or fell by his lance. hector, cautioned by apollo, kept aloof; but the god, assuming the form of one of priam's sons, lycaon, urged aeneas to encounter the terrible warrior. aeneas, though he felt himself unequal, did not decline the combat. he hurled his spear with all his force against the shield the work of vulcan. it was formed of five metal plates; two were of brass, two of tin, and one of gold. the spear pierced two thicknesses, but was stopped in the third. achilles threw his with better success. it pierced through the shield of aeneas, but glanced near his shoulder and made no wound. then aeneas seized a stone, such as two men of modern times could hardly lift, and was about to throw it, and achilles, with sword drawn, was about to rush upon him, when neptune, who looked out upon the contest, moved with pity for aeneas, who he saw would surely fall a victim if not speedily rescued, spread a cloud between the combatants, and lifting aeneas from the ground, bore him over the heads of warriors and steeds to the rear of the battle. achilles, when the mist cleared away, looked round in vain for his adversary, and acknowledging the prodigy, turned his arms against other champions. but none dared stand before him, and priam looking down from the city walls beheld his whole army in full flight towards the city. he gave command to open wide the gates to receive the fugitives, and to shut them as soon as the trojans should have passed, lest the enemy should enter likewise. but achilles was so close in pursuit that that would have been impossible if apollo had not, in the form of agenor, priam's son, encountered achilles for a while, then turned to fly, and taken the way apart from the city. achilles pursued and had chased his supposed victim far from the walls, when apollo disclosed himself, and achilles, perceiving how he had been deluded, gave up the chase. but when the rest had escaped into the town hector stood without determined to await the combat. his old father called to him from the walls and begged him to retire nor tempt the encounter. his mother, hecuba, also besought him to the same effect, but all in vain. "how can i," said he to himself, "by whose command the people went to this day's contest, where so many have fallen, seek safety for myself against a single foe? but what if i offer him to yield up helen and all her treasures and ample of our own beside? ah, no! it is too late. he would not even hear me through, but slay me while i spoke." while he thus ruminated. achilles approached, terrible as mars, his armor flashing lightning as he moved. at that sight hector's heart failed him and he fled. achilles swiftly pursued. they ran, still keeping near the walls, till they had thrice encircled the city. as often as hector approached the walls achilles intercepted him and forced him to keep out in a wider circle. but apollo sustained hector's strength and would not let him sink in weariness. then pallas, assuming the form of deiphobus, hector's bravest brother, appeared suddenly at his side. hector saw him with delight, and thus strengthened stopped his flight and turned to meet achilles. hector threw his spear, which struck the shield of achilles and bounded back. he turned to receive another from the hand of deiphobus, but deiphobus was gone. then hector understood his doom and said, "alas! it is plain this is my hour to die! i thought deiphobus at hand, but pallas deceived me, and he is still in troy. but i will not fall inglorious," so saying he drew his falchion from his side and rushed at once to combat. achilles, secured behind his shield, waited the approach of hector. when he came within reach of his spear, achilles choosing with his eye a vulnerable part where the armor leaves the neck uncovered, aimed his spear at that part and hector fell, death-wounded, and feebly said, "spare my body! let my parents ransom it, and let me receive funeral rites from the sons and daughters of troy." to which achilles replied, "dog, name not ransom nor pity to me, on whom you have brought such dire distress. no! trust me, naught shall save thy carcass from the dogs. though twenty ransoms and thy weight in gold were offered, i would refuse it all." so saying he stripped the body of its armor, and fastening cords to the feet tied them behind his chariot, leaving the body to trail along the ground. then mounting the chariot he lashed the steeds and so dragged the body to and fro before the city. what words can tell the grief of king priam and queen hecuba at this sight! his people could scarce restrain the old king from rushing forth. he threw himself in the dust and besought them each by name to give him way. hecuba's distress was not less violent. the citizens stood round them weeping. the sound of the mourning reached the ears of andromache, the wife of hector, as she sat among her maidens at work, and anticipating evil she went forth to the wall. when she saw the sight there presented, she would have thrown herself headlong from the wall, but fainted and fell into the arms of her maidens. recovering, she bewailed her fate, picturing to herself her country ruined, herself a captive, and her son dependent for his bread on the charity of strangers. when achilles and the greeks had taken their revenge on the killer of patroclus they busied themselves in paying due funeral rites to their friend. a pile was erected, and the body burned with due solemnity; and then ensued games of strength and skill, chariot races, wrestling, boxing, and archery. then the chiefs sat down to the funeral banquet and after that retired to rest. but achilles neither partook of the feast nor of sleep. the recollection of his lost friend kept him awake, remembering their companionship in toil and dangers, in battle or on the perilous deep. before the earliest dawn he left his tent, and joining to his chariot his swift steeds, he fastened hector's body to be dragged behind. twice he dragged him around the tomb of patroclus, leaving him at length stretched in the dust. but apollo would not permit the body to be torn or disfigured with all this abuse, but preserved it free from all taint or defilement. while achilles indulged his wrath in thus disgracing brave hector, jupiter in pity summoned thetis to his presence. he told her to go to her son and prevail on him to restore the body of hector to his friends. then jupiter sent iris to king priam to encourage him to go to achilles and beg the body of his son. iris delivered her message, and priam immediately prepared to obey. he opened his treasuries and took out rich garments and cloths, with ten talents in gold and two splendid tripods and a golden cup of matchless workmanship. then he called to his sons and bade them draw forth his litter and place in it the various articles designed for a ransom to achilles. when all was ready, the old king with a single companion as aged as himself, the herald idaeus, drove forth from the gates, parting there with hecuba, his queen, and all his friends, who lamented him as going to certain death. but jupiter, beholding with compassion the venerable king, sent mercury to be his guide and protector. mercury, assuming the form of a young warrior, presented himself to the aged couple, and while at the sight of him they hesitated whether to fly or yield, the god approached, and grasping priam's hand offered to be their guide to achilles' tent. priam gladly accepted his offered service, and he, mounting the carriage, assumed the reins and soon conveyed them to the tent of achilles. mercury's wand put to sleep all the guards, and without hinderance he introduced priam into the tent where achilles sat, attended by two of his warriors. the old king threw himself at the feet of achilles, and kissed those terrible hands which had destroyed so many of his sons. "think, o achilles," he said, "of thy own father, full of days like me, and trembling on the gloomy verge of life. perhaps even now some neighbor chief oppresses him and there is none at hand to succor him in his distress. yet doubtless knowing that achilles lives he still rejoices, hoping that one day he shall see thy face again. but no comfort cheers me, whose bravest sons, so late the flower of ilium, all have fallen. yet one i had, one more than all the rest the strength of my age, whom, fighting for his country, thou hast slain. i come to redeem his body, bringing inestimable ransom with me. achilles! reverence the gods! recollect thy father! for his sake show compassion to me!" these words moved achilles, and he wept; remembering by turns his absent father and his lost friend. moved with pity of priam's silver locks and beard, he raised him from the earth, and thus spake: "priam, i know that thou hast reached this place conducted by some god, for without aid divine no mortal even in his prime of youth had dared the attempt. i grant thy request, moved thereto by the evident will of jove." so saying he arose, and went forth with his two friends, and unloaded of its charge the litter, leaving two mantles and a robe for the covering of the body, which they placed on the litter, and spread the garments over it, that not unveiled it should be borne back to troy. then achilles dismissed the old king with his attendants, having first pledged himself to allow a truce of twelve days for the funeral solemnities. as the litter approached the city and was descried from the walls, the people poured forth to gaze once more on the face of their hero. foremost of all, the mother and the wife of hector came, and at the sight of the lifeless body renewed their lamentations. the people all wept with them, and to the going down of the sun there was no pause or abatement of their grief. the next day preparations were made for the funeral solemnities. for nine days the people brought wood and built the pile, and on the tenth they placed the body on the summit and applied the torch; while all troy thronging forth encompassed the pile. when it had completely burned, they quenched the cinders with wine, collected the bones and placed them in a golden urn, which they buried in the earth, and reared a pile of stones over the spot. "such honors ilium to her hero paid, and peaceful slept the mighty hector's shade." --pope. chapter xxviii the fall of troy--return of the greeks--orestes and electra the fall of troy the story of the iliad ends with the death of hector, and it is from the odyssey and later poems that we learn the fate of the other heroes. after the death of hector, troy did not immediately fall, but receiving aid from new allies still continued its resistance. one of these allies was memnon, the aethiopian prince, whose story we have already told. another was penthesilea, queen of the amazons, who came with a band of female warriors. all the authorities attest their valor and the fearful effect of their war cry. penthesilea slew many of the bravest warriors, but was at last slain by achilles. but when the hero bent over his fallen foe, and contemplated her beauty, youth, and valor, he bitterly regretted his victory. thersites, an insolent brawler and demagogue, ridiculed his grief, and was in consequence slain by the hero. achilles by chance had seen polyxena, daughter of king priam, perhaps on the occasion of the truce which was allowed the trojans for the burial of hector. he was captivated with her charms, and to win her in marriage agreed to use his influence with the greeks to grant peace to troy. while in the temple of apollo, negotiating the marriage, paris discharged at him a poisoned arrow, which, guided by apollo, wounded achilles in the heel, the only vulnerable part about him. for thetis his mother had dipped him when an infant in the river styx, which made every part of him invulnerable except the heel by which she held him. [footnote : the story of the invulnerability of achilles is not found in homer, and is inconsistent with his account. for how could achilles require the aid of celestial armor if be were invulnerable?] the body of achilles so treacherously slain was rescued by ajax and ulysses. thetis directed the greeks to bestow her son's armor on the hero who of all the survivors should be judged most deserving of it. ajax and ulysses were the only claimants; a select number of the other chiefs were appointed to award the prize. it was awarded to ulysses, thus placing wisdom before valor; whereupon ajax slew himself. on the spot where his blood sank into the earth a flower sprang up, called the hyacinth, bearing on its leaves the first two letters of the name of ajax, ai, the greek for "woe." thus ajax is a claimant with the boy hyacinthus for the honor of giving birth to this flower. there is a species of larkspur which represents the hyacinth of the poets in preserving the memory of this event, the delphinium ajacis-- ajax's larkspur. it was now discovered that troy could not be taken but by the aid of the arrows of hercules. they were in possession of philoctetes, the friend who had been with hercules at the last and lighted his funeral pyre. philoctetes had joined the grecian expedition against troy, but had accidentally wounded his foot with one of the poisoned arrows, and the smell from his wound proved so offensive that his companions carried him to the isle of lemnos and left him there. diomed was now sent to induce him to rejoin the army. he sukcceeded. philoctetes was cured of his wound by machaon, and paris was the first victim of the fatal arrows. in his distress paris bethought him of one whom in his prosperity he had forgotten. this was the nymph oenone, whom he had married when a youth, and had abandoned for the fatal beauty helen. oenone, remembering the wrongs she had suffered, refused to heal the wound, and paris went back to troy and died. oenone quickly repented, and hastened after him with remedies, but came too late, and in her grief hung herself. [footnote : tennyson has chosen oenone as the subject of a short poem; but he has omitted the most poetical part of the story, the return of paris wounded, her cruelty and subsequent repentance.] there was in troy a celebrated statue of minerva called the palladium. it was said to have fallen from heaven, and the belief was that the city could not be taken so long as this statue remained within it. ulysses and diomed entered the city in disguise and succeeded in obtaining the palladium, which they carried off to the grecian camp. but troy still held out, and the greeks began to despair of ever subduing it by force, and by advice of ulysses resolved to resort to stratagem. they pretended to be making preparations to abandon the siege, and a portion of the ships were withdrawn and lay hid behind a neighboring island. the greeks then constructed an immense wooden horse, which they gave out was intended as a propitiatory offering to minerva, but in fact was filled with armed men. the remaining greeks then betook themselves to their ships and sailed away, as if for a final departure. the trojans, seeing the encampment broken up and the fleet gone, concluded the enemy to have abandoned the siege. the gates were thrown open, and the whole population issued forth rejoicing at the long-prohibited liberty of passing freely over the scene of the late encampment. the great horse was the chief object of curiosity. all wondered what it could be for. some recommended to take it into the city as a trophy; others felt afraid of it. while they hesitate, laocoon, the priest of neptune exclaims, "what madness, citizens, is this? have you not learned enough of grecian fraud to be on your guard against it? for my part, i fear the greeks even when they offer gifts." [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] so saying he threw his lance at the horse's side. it struck, and a hollow sound reverberated like a groan. then perhaps the people might have taken his advice and destroyed the fatal horse and all its contents; but just at that moment a group of people appeared, dragging forward one who seemed a prisoner and a greek. stupefied with terror, he was brought before the chiefs, who reassured him, promising that his life should be spared on condition of his returning true answers to the questions asked him. he informed them that he was a greek, sinon by name, and that in consequence of the malice of ulysses he had been left behind by his countrymen at their departure. with regard to the wooden horse, he told them that it was a propitiatory offering to minerva, and made so huge for the express purpose of preventing its being carried within the city; for calchas the prophet had told them that if the trojans took possession of it they would assuredly triumph over the greeks. this language turned the tide of the people's feelings and they began to think how they might best secure the monstrous horse and the favorable auguries connected with it, when suddenly a prodigy occurred which left no room to doubt. there appeared, advancing over the sea, two immense serpents. they came upon the land, and the crowd fled in all directions. the serpents advanced directly to the spot where laocoon stood with his two sons. they first attacked the children, winding round their bodies and breathing their pestilential breath in their faces. the father, attempting to rescue them, is next seized and involved in the serpents' coils. he struggles to tear them away, but they overpower all his efforts and strangle him and the children in their poisonous folds. this event was regarded as a clear indication of the displeasure of the gods at laocoon's irreverent treatment of the wooden horse, which they no longer hesitated to regard as a sacred object, and prepared to introduce with due solemnity into the city. this was done with songs and triumphal acclamations, and the day closed with festivity. in the night the armed men who were enclosed in the body of the horse, being let out by the traitor sinon, opened the gates of the city to their friends, who had returned under cover of the night. the city was set on fire; the people, overcome with feasting and sleep, put to the sword, and troy completely subdued. one of the most celebrated groups of statuary in existence is that of laocoon and his children in the embrace of the serpents. a cast of it is owned by the boston athenaeum; the original is in the vatican at rome. the following lines are from the "childe harold" of byron: "now turning to the vatican go see laocoon's torture dignifying pain; a father's love and mortal's agony with an immortal's patience blending;--vain the struggle! vain against the coiling strain and gripe and deepening of the dragon's grasp the old man's clinch; the long envenomed chain rivets the living links; the enormous asp enforces pang on pang and stifles gasp on gasp." the comic poets will also occasionally borrow a classical allusion. the following is from swift's "description of a city shower": "boxed in a chair the beau impatient sits, while spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits, and ever and anon with frightful din the leather sounds; he trembles from within. so when troy chairmen bore the wooden steed pregnant with greeks impatient to be freed, (those bully greeks, who, as the moderns do, instead of paying chairmen, run them through); laocoon struck the outside with a spear, and each imprisoned champion quaked with fear." king priam lived to see the downfall of his kingdom and was slain at last on the fatal night when the greeks took the city. he had armed himself and was about to mingle with the combatants, but was prevailed on by hecuba, his aged queen, to take refuge with herself and his daughters as a suppliant at the altar of jupiter. while there, his youngest son polites, pursued by pyrrhus, the son of achilles, rushed in wounded, and expired at the feet of his father; whereupon priam, overcome with indignation, hurled his spear with feeble hand against pyrrhus, [footnote : pyrrhus's exclamation, "not such aid nor such defenders does the time require," has become proverbial. see proverbial expressions.] and was forthwith slain by him. queen hecuba and her daughter cassandra were carried captives to greece. cassandra had been loved by apollo, and he gave her the gift of prophecy; but afterwards offended with her, he rendered the gift unavailing by ordaining that her predictions should never be believed. polyxena, another daughter, who had been loved by achilles, was demanded by the ghost of that warrior, and was sacrificed by the greeks upon his tomb. menelaus and helen our readers will be anxious to know the fate of helen, the fair but guilty occasion of so much slaughter. on the fall of troy menelaus recovered possession of his wife, who had not ceased to love him, though she had yielded to the might of venus and deserted him for another. after the death of paris she aided the greeks secretly on several occasions, and in particular when ulysses and diomed entered the city in disguise to carry off the palladium. she saw and recognized ulysses, but kept the secret and even assisted them in obtaining the image. thus she became reconciled to her husband, and they were among the first to leave the shores of troy for their native land. but having incurred the displeasure of the gods they were driven by storms from shore to shore of the mediterranean, visiting cyprus, phoenicia, and egypt. in egypt they were kindly treated and presented with rich gifts, of which helen's share was a golden spindle and a basket on wheels. the basket was to hold the wool and spools for the queen's work. dyer, in his poem of the "fleece," thus alludes to this incident: "... many yet adhere to the ancient distaff, at the bosom fixed, casting the whirling spindle as they walk. this was of old, in no inglorious days, the mode of spinning, when the egyptian prince a golden distaff gave that beauteous nymph, too beauteous helen; no uncourtly gift." milton also alludes to a famous recipe for an invigorating draught, called nepenthe, which the egyptian queen gave to helen: "not that nepenthes which the wife of thone in egypt gave to jove-born helena, is of such power to stir up joy as this, to life so friendly or so cool to thirst." --comus. menelaus and helen at length arrived in safety at sparta, resumed their royal dignity, and lived and reigned in splendor; and when telemachus, the son of ulysses, in search of his father, arrived at sparta, he found menelaus and helen celebrating the marriage of their daughter hermione to neoptolemus, son of achilles. agamemnon, orestes, and electra agamemnon, the general-in-chief of the greeks, the brother of menelaus, and who had been drawn into the quarrel to avenge his brother's wrongs, not his own, was not so fortunate in the issue. during his absence his wife clytemnestra had been false to him, and when his return was expected, she with her paramour, aegisthus, laid a plan for his destruction, and at the banquet given to celebrate his return, murdered him. it was intended by the conspirators to slay his son orestes also, a lad not yet old enough to be an object of apprehension, but from whom, if he should be suffered to grow up, there might be danger. electra, the sister of orestes, saved her brother's life by sending him secretly away to his uncle strophius, king of phocis. in the palace of strophius orestes grew up with the king's son pylades, and formed with him that ardent friendship which has become proverbial. electra frequently reminded her brother by messengers of the duty of avenging his father's death, and when grown up he consulted the oracle of delphi, which confirmed him in his design. he therefore repaired in disguise to argos, pretending to be a messenger from strophius, who had come to announce the death of orestes, and brought the ashes of the deceased in a funeral urn. after visiting his father's tomb and sacrificing upon it, according to the rites of the ancients, he made himself known to his sister electra, and soon after slew both aegisthus and clytemnestra. this revolting act, the slaughter of a mother by her son, though alleviated by the guilt of the victim and the express command of the gods, did not fail to awaken in the breasts of the ancients the same abhorrence that it does in ours. the eumenides, avenging deities, seized upon orestes, and drove him frantic from land to land. pylades accompanied him in his wanderings and watched over him. at length, in answer to a second appeal to the oracle, he was directed to go to tauris in scythia, and to bring thence a statue of diana which was believed to have fallen from heaven. accordingly orestes and pylades went to tauris, where the barbarous people were accustomed to sacrifice to the goddess all strangers who fell into their hands. the two friends were seized and carried bound to the temple to be made victims. but the priestess of diana was no other than iphigenia, the sister of orestes, who, our readers will remember, was snatched away by diana at the moment when she was about to be sacrificed. ascertaining from the prisoners who they were, iphigenia disclosed herself to them, and the three made their escape with the statue of the goddess, and returned to mycenae. but orestes was not yet relieved from the vengeance of the erinyes. at length he took refuge with minerva at athens. the goddess afforded him protection, and appointed the court of areopagus to decide his fate. the erinyes brought forward their accusation, and orestes made the command of the delphic oracle his excuse. when the court voted and the voices were equally divided, orestes was acquitted by the command of minerva. byron, in "childe harold," canto iv., alludes to the story of orestes: "o thou who never yet of human wrong left the unbalanced scale, great nemesis! thou who didst call the furies from the abyss, and round orestes bade them howl and hiss, for that unnatural retribution,--just, had it but been from hands less near,--in this, thy former realm, i call thee from the dust!" one of the most pathetic scenes in the ancient drama is that in which sophocles represents the meeting of orestes and electra, on his return from phocis. orestes, mistaking electra for one of the domestics, and desirous of keeping his arrival a secret till the hour of vengeance should arrive, produces the urn in which his ashes are supposed to rest. electra, believing him to be really dead, takes the urn and, embracing it, pours forth her grief in language full of tenderness and despair. milton, in one of his sonnets, says: "... the repeated air of sad electra's poet had the power to save the athenian walls from ruin bare." this alludes to the story that when, on one occasion, the city of athens was at the mercy of her spartan foes, and it was proposed to destroy it, the thought was rejected upon the accidental quotation, by some one, of a chorus of euripides. troy the facts relating to the city of troy are still unknown to history. antiquarians have long sought for the actual city and some record of its rulers. the most interesting explorations were those conducted about by the german scholar, henry schliemann, who believed that at the mound of hissarlik, the traditional site of troy, he had uncovered the ancient capital. schliemann excavated down below the ruins of three or four settlements, each revealing an earlier civilization, and finally came upon some royal jewels and other relics said to be "priam's treasure." scholars are by no means agreed as to the historic value of these discoveries. chapter xxix adventures of ulysses--the lotus-eaters--cyclopes--circe--sirens --scylla and charybdis--calypso return of ulysses the romantic poem of the odyssey is now to engage our attention. it narrates the wanderings of ulysses (odysseus in the greek language) in his return from troy to his own kingdom ithaca. from troy the vessels first made land at ismarus, city of the ciconians, where, in a skirmish with the inhabitants, ulysses lost six men from each ship. sailing thence, they were overtaken by a storm which drove them for nine days along the sea till they reached the country of the lotus-eaters. here, after watering, ulysses sent three of his men to discover who the inhabitants were. these men on coming among the lotus-eaters were kindly entertained by them, and were given some of their own food, the lotus-plant, to eat. the effect of this food was such that those who partook of it lost all thoughts of home and wished to remain in that country. it was by main force that ulysses dragged these men away, and he was even obliged to tie them under the benches of the ships. [footnote: tennyson in the "lotus-eaters" has charmingly expressed the dreamy, languid feeling which the lotus food is said to have produced. "how sweet it were, hearing the downward stream with half-shut eyes ever to seem falling asleep in a half dream! to dream and dream, like yonder amber light which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height; to hear each others' whispered speech; eating the lotos, day by day, to watch the crisping ripples on the beach, and tender curving lines of creamy spray: to lend our hearts and spirits wholly to the influence of mild-minded melancholy; to muse and brood and live again in memory, with those old faces of our infancy heaped over with a mound of grass, two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass."] they next arrived at the country of the cyclopes. the cyclopes were giants, who inhabited an island of which they were the only possessors. the name means "round eye," and these giants were so called because they had but one eye, and that placed in the middle of the forehead. they dwelt in caves and fed on the wild productions of the island and on what their flocks yielded, for they were shepherds. ulysses left the main body of his ships at anchor, and with one vessel went to the cyclopes' island to explore for supplies. he landed with his companions, carrying with them a jar of wine for a present, and coming to a large cave they entered it, and finding no one within examined its contents. they found it stored with the richest of the flock, quantities of cheese, pails and bowls of milk, lambs and kids in their pens, all in nice order. presently arrived the master of the cave, polyphemus, bearing an immense bundle of firewood, which he threw down before the cavern's mouth. he then drove into the cave the sheep and goats to be milked, and, entering, rolled to the cave's mouth an enormous rock, that twenty oxen could not draw. next he sat down and milked his ewes, preparing a part for cheese, and setting the rest aside for his customary drink. then, turning round his great eye, he discerned the strangers, and growled out to them, demanding who they were, and where from. ulysses replied most humbly, stating that they were greeks, from the great expedition that had lately won so much glory in the conquest of troy; that they were now on their way home, and finished by imploring his hospitality in the name of the gods. polyphemus deigned no answer, but reaching out his hand seized two of the greeks, whom he hurled against the side of the cave, and dashed out their brains. he proceeded to devour them with great relish, and having made a hearty meal, stretched himself out on the floor to sleep. ulysses was tempted to seize the opportunity and plunge his sword into him as he slept, but recollected that it would only expose them all to certain destruction, as the rock with which the giant had closed up the door was far beyond their power to remove, and they would therefore be in hopeless imprisonment. next morning the giant seized two more of the greeks, and despatched them in the same manner as their companions, feasting on their flesh till no fragment was left. he then moved away the rock from the door, drove out his flocks, and went out, carefully replacing the barrier after him. when he was gone ulysses planned how he might take vengeance for his murdered friends, and effect his escape with his surviving companions. he made his men prepare a massive bar of wood cut by the cyclops for a staff, which they found in the cave. they sharpened the end of it, and seasoned it in the fire, and hid it under the straw on the cavern floor. then four of the boldest were selected, with whom ulysses joined himself as a fifth. the cyclops came home at evening, rolled away the stone and drove in his flock as usual. after milking them and making his arrangements as before, he seized two more of ulysses' companions and dashed their brains out, and made his evening meal upon them as he had on the others. after he had supped, ulysses approaching him handed him a bowl of wine, saying, "cyclops, this is wine; taste and drink after thy meal of men's flesh." he took and drank it, and was hugely delighted with it, and called for more. ulysses supplied him once again, which pleased the giant so much that he promised him as a favor that he should be the last of the party devoured. he asked his name, to which ulysses replied, "my name is noman." after his supper the giant lay down to repose, and was soon sound asleep. then ulysses with his four select friends thrust the end of the stake into the fire till it was all one burning coal, then poising it exactly above the giant's only eye, they buried it deeply into the socket, twirling it round as a carpenter does his auger. the howling monster with his outcry filled the cavern, and ulysses with his aids nimbly got out of his way and concealed themselves in the cave. he, bellowing, called aloud on all the cyclopes dwelling in the caves around him, far and near. they on his cry flocked round the den, and inquired what grievous hurt had caused him to sound such an alarm and break their slumbers. he replied, "o friends, i die, and noman gives the blow." they answered, "if no man hurts thee it is the stroke of jove, and thou must bear it." so saying, they left him groaning. next morning the cyclops rolled away the stone to let his flock out to pasture, but planted himself in the door of the cave to feel of all as they went out, that ulysses and his men should not escape with them. but ulysses had made his men harness the rams of the flock three abreast, with osiers which they found on the floor of the cave. to the middle ram of the three one of the greeks suspended himself, so protected by the exterior rams on either side. as they passed, the giant felt of the animals' backs and sides, but never thought of their bellies; so the men all passed safe, ulysses himself being on the last one that passed. when they had got a few paces from the cavern, ulysses and his friends released themselves from their rams, and drove a good part of the flock down to the shore to their boat. they put them aboard with all haste, then pushed off from the shore, and when at a safe distance ulysses shouted out, "cyclops, the gods have well requited thee for thy atrocious deeds. know it is ulysses to whom thou owest thy shameful loss of sight." the cyclops, hearing this, seized a rock that projected from the side of the mountain, and rending it from its bed, he lifted it high in the air, then exerting all his force, hurled it in the direction of the voice. down came the mass, just clearing the vessel's stern. the ocean, at the plunge of the huge rock, heaved the ship towards the land, so that it barely escaped being swamped by the waves. when they had with the utmost difficulty pulled off shore, ulysses was about to hail the giant again, but his friends besought him not to do so. he could not forbear, however, letting the giant know that they had escaped his missile, but waited till they had reached a safer distance than before. the giant answered them with curses, but ulysses and his friends plied their oars vigorously, and soon regained their companions. ulysses next arrived at the island of aeolus. to this monarch jupiter had intrusted the government of the winds, to send them forth or retain them at his will. he treated ulysses hospitably, and at his departure gave him, tied up in a leathern bag, with a silver string, such winds as might be hurtful and dangerous, commanding fair winds to blow the barks towards their country. nine days they sped before the wind, and all that time ulysses had stood at the helm, without sleep. at last quite exhausted he lay down to sleep. while he slept, the crew conferred together about the mysterious bag, and concluded it must contain treasures given by the hospitable king aeolus to their commander. tempted to secure some portion for themselves, they loosed the string, when immediately the winds rushed forth. the ships were driven far from their course, and back again to the island they had just left. aeolus was so indignant at their folly that he refused to assist them further, and they were obliged to labor over their course once more by means of their oars. the laestrygonians their next adventure was with the barbarous tribe of laestrygonians. the vessels all pushed into the harbor, tempted by the secure appearance of the cove, completely land-locked; only ulysses moored his vessel without. as soon as the laestrygonians found the ships completely in their power they attacked them, heaving huge stones which broke and overturned them, and with their spears despatched the seamen as they struggled in the water. all the vessels with their crews were destroyed, except ulysses' own ship, which had remained outside, and finding no safety but in flight, he exhorted his men to ply their oars vigorously, and they escaped. with grief for their slain companions mixed with joy at their own escape, they pursued their way till they arrived at the aeaean isle, where circe dwelt, the daughter of the sun. landing here, ulysses climbed a hill, and gazing round saw no signs of habitation except in one spot at the centre of the island, where he perceived a palace embowered with trees. he sent forward one- half of his crew, under the command of eurylochus, to see what prospect of hospitality they might find. as they approached the palace, they found themselves surrounded by lions, tigers, and wolves, not fierce, but tamed by circe's art, for she was a powerful magician. all these animals had once been men, but had been changed by circe's enchantments into the forms of beasts. the sounds of soft music were heard from within, and a sweet female voice singing. eurylochus called aloud and the goddess came forth and invited them in; they all gladly entered except eurylochus, who suspected danger. the goddess conducted her guests to a seat, and had them served with wine and other delicacies. when they had feasted heartily, she touched them one by one with her wand, and they became immediately changed into swine, in "head, body, voice, and bristles," yet with their intellects as before. she shut them in her sties and supplied them with acorns and such other things as swine love. eurylochus hurried back to the ship and told the tale. ulysses thereupon determined to go himself, and try if by any means he might deliver his companions. as he strode onward alone, he met a youth who addressed him familiarly, appearing to be acquainted with his adventures. he announced himself as mercury, and informed ulysses of the arts of circe, and of the danger of approaching her. as ulysses was not to be dissuaded from his attempt, mercury provided him with a sprig of the plant moly, of wonderful power to resist sorceries, and instructed him how to act. ulysses proceeded, and reaching the palace was courteously received by circe, who entertained him as she had done his companions, and after he had eaten and drank, touched him with her wand, saying, "hence, seek the sty and wallow with thy friends." but he, instead of obeying, drew his sword and rushed upon her with fury in his countenance. she fell on her knees and begged for mercy. he dictated a solemn oath that she would release his companions and practise no further harm against him or them; and she repeated it, at the same time promising to dismiss them all in safety after hospitably entertaining them. she was as good as her word. the men were restored to their shapes, the rest of the crew summoned from the shore, and the whole magnificently entertained day after day, till ulysses seemed to have forgotten his native land, and to have reconciled himself to an inglorious life of ease and pleasure. at length his companions recalled him to nobler sentiments, and he received their admonition gratefully. circe aided their departure, and instructed them how to pass safely by the coast of the sirens. the sirens were sea-nymphs who had the power of charming by their song all who heard them, so that the unhappy mariners were irresistibly impelled to cast themselves into the sea to their destruction. circe directed ulysses to fill the ears of his seamen with wax, so that they should not hear the strain; and to cause himself to be bound to the mast, and his people to be strictly enjoined, whatever he might say or do, by no means to release him till they should have passed the sirens' island. ulysses obeyed these directions. he filled the ears of his people with wax, and suffered them to bind him with cords firmly to the mast. as they approached the sirens' island, the sea was calm, and over the waters came the notes of music so ravishing and attractive that ulysses struggled to get loose, and by cries and signs to his people begged to be released; but they, obedient to his previous orders, sprang forward and bound him still faster. they held on their course, and the music grew fainter till it ceased to be heard, when with joy ulysses gave his companions the signal to unseal their ears, and they relieved him from his bonds. the imagination of a modern poet, keats, has discovered for us the thoughts that passed through the brains of the victims of circe, after their transformation. in his "endymion" he represents one of them, a monarch in the guise of an elephant, addressing the sorceress in human language, thus: "i sue not for my happy crown again; i sue not for my phalanx on the plain; i sue not for my lone, my widowed wife; i sue not for my ruddy drops of life, my children fair, my lovely girls and boys; i will forget them; i will pass these joys, ask nought so heavenward; so too--too high; only i pray, as fairest boon, to die; to be delivered from this cumbrous flesh, from this gross, detestable, filthy mesh, and merely given to the cold, bleak air. have mercy, goddess! circe, feel my prayer!" scylla and charybdis ulysses had been warned by circe of the two monsters scylla and charybdis. we have already met with scylla in the story of glaucus, and remember that she was once a beautiful maiden and was changed into a snaky monster by circe. she dwelt in a cave high up on the cliff, from whence she was accustomed to thrust forth her long necks (for she had six heads), and in each of her mouths to seize one of the crew of every vessel passing within reach. the other terror, charybdis, was a gulf, nearly on a level with the water. thrice each day the water rushed into a frightful chasm, and thrice was disgorged. any vessel coming near the whirlpool when the tide was rushing in must inevitably be ingulfed; not neptune himself could save it. on approaching the haunt of the dread monsters, ulysses kept strict watch to discover them. the roar of the waters as charybdis ingulfed them, gave warning at a distance, but scylla could nowhere be discerned. while ulysses and his men watched with anxious eyes the dreadful whirlpool, they were not equally on their guard from the attack of scylla, and the monster, darting forth her snaky heads, caught six of his men, and bore them away, shrieking, to her den. it was the saddest sight ulysses had yet seen; to behold his friends thus sacrificed and hear their cries, unable to afford them any assistance. circe had warned him of another danger. after passing scylla and charybdis the next land he would make was thrinakia, an island whereon were pastured the cattle of hyperion, the sun, tended by his daughters lampetia and phaethusa. these flocks must not be violated, whatever the wants of the voyagers might be. if this injunction were transgressed destruction was sure to fall on the offenders. ulysses would willingly have passed the island of the sun without stopping, but his companions so urgently pleaded for the rest and refreshment that would be derived from anchoring and passing the night on shore, that ulysses yielded. he bound them, however, with an oath that they would not touch one of the animals of the sacred flocks and herds, but content themselves with what provision they yet had left of the supply which circe had put on board. so long as this supply lasted the people kept their oath, but contrary winds detained them at the island for a month, and after consuming all their stock of provisions, they were forced to rely upon the birds and fishes they could catch. famine pressed them, and at length one day, in the absence of ulysses, they slew some of the cattle, vainly attempting to make amends for the deed by offering from them a portion to the offended powers. ulysses, on his return to the shore, was horror-struck at perceiving what they had done, and the more so on account of the portentous signs which followed. the skins crept on the ground, and the joints of meat lowed on the spits while roasting. the wind becoming fair they sailed from the island. they had not gone far when the weather changed, and a storm of thunder and lightning ensued. a stroke of lightning shattered their mast, which in its fall killed the pilot. at last the vessel itself came to pieces. the keel and mast floating side by side, ulysses formed of them a raft, to which he clung, and, the wind changing, the waves bore him to calypso's island. all the rest of the crew perished. the following allusion to the topics we have just been considering is from milton's "comus," line : "... i have often heard my mother circe and the sirens three, amidst the flowery-kirtled naiades, culling their potent herbs and baneful drugs, who as they sung would take the prisoned soul and lap it in elysium. scylla wept, and chid her barking waves into attention, and fell charybdis murmured soft applause." scylla and charybdis have become proverbial, to denote opposite dangers which beset one's course. see proverbial expressions. calypso calypso was a sea-nymph, which name denotes a numerous class of female divinities of lower rank, yet sharing many of the attributes of the gods. calypso received ulysses hospitably, entertained him magnificently, became enamoured of him, and wished to retain him forever, conferring on him immortality. but he persisted in his resolution to return to his country and his wife and son. calypso at last received the command of jove to dismiss him. mercury brought the message to her, and found her in her grotto, which is thus described by homer: "a garden vine, luxuriant on all sides, mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph, their sinuous course pursuing side by side, strayed all around, and everywhere appeared meadows of softest verdure, purpled o'er with violets; it was a scene to fill a god from heaven with wonder and delight." calypso with much reluctance proceeded to obey the commands of jupiter. she supplied ulysses with the means of constructing a raft, provisioned it well for him, and gave him a favoring gale. he sped on his course prosperously for many days, till at length, when in sight of land, a storm arose that broke his mast, and threatened to rend the raft asunder. in this crisis he was seen by a compassionate sea-nymph, who in the form of a cormorant alighted on the raft, and presented him a girdle, directing him to bind it beneath his breast, and if he should be compelled to trust himself to the waves, it would buoy him up and enable him by swimming to reach the land. fenelon, in his romance of "telemachus," has given us the adventures of the son of ulysses in search of his father. among other places at which he arrived, following on his father's footsteps, was calypso's isle, and, as in the former case, the goddess tried every art to keep him with her, and offered to share her immortality with him. but minerva, who in the shape of mentor accompanied him and governed all his movements, made him repel her allurements, and when no other means of escape could be found, the two friends leaped from a cliff into the sea, and swam to a vessel which lay becalmed off shore. byron alludes to this leap of telemachus and mentor in the following stanza: "but not in silence pass calypso's isles, the sister tenants of the middle deep; there for the weary still a haven smiles, though the fair goddess long has ceased to weep, and o'er her cliffs a fruitless watch to keep for him who dared prefer a mortal bride. here too his boy essayed the dreadful leap, stern mentor urged from high to yonder tide; while thus of both bereft the nymph-queen doubly sighed." chapter xxx the phaeacians--fate of the suitors the phaeacians ulysses clung to the raft while any of its timbers kept together, and when it no longer yielded him support, binding the girdle around him, he swam. minerva smoothed the billows before him and sent him a wind that rolled the waves towards the shore. the surf beat high on the rocks and seemed to forbid approach; but at length finding calm water at the mouth of a gentle stream, he landed, spent with toil, breathless and speechless and almost dead. after some time, reviving, he kissed the soil, rejoicing, yet at a loss what course to take. at a short distance he perceived a wood, to which he turned his steps. there, finding a covert sheltered by intermingling branches alike from the sun and the rain, he collected a pile of leaves and formed a bed, on which he stretched himself, and heaping the leaves over him, fell asleep. the land where he was thrown was scheria, the country of the phaeacians. these people dwelt originally near the cyclopes; but being oppressed by that savage race, they migrated to the isle of scheria, under the conduct of nausithous, their king. they were, the poet tells us, a people akin to the gods, who appeared manifestly and feasted among them when they offered sacrifices, and did not conceal themselves from solitary wayfarers when they met them. they had abundance of wealth and lived in the enjoyment of it undisturbed by the alarms of war, for as they dwelt remote from gain-seeking man, no enemy ever approached their shores, and they did not even require to make use of bows and quivers. their chief employment was navigation. their ships, which went with the velocity of birds, were endued with intelligence; they knew every port and needed no pilot. alcinous, the son of nausithous, was now their king, a wise and just sovereign, beloved by his people. now it happened that the very night on which ulysses was cast ashore on the phaeacian island, and while he lay sleeping on his bed of leaves, nausicaa, the daughter of the king, had a dream sent by minerva, reminding her that her wedding-day was not far distant, and that it would be but a prudent preparation for that event to have a general washing of the clothes of the family. this was no slight affair, for the fountains were at some distance, and the garments must be carried thither. on awaking, the princess hastened to her parents to tell them what was on her mind; not alluding to her wedding-day, but finding other reasons equally good. her father readily assented and ordered the grooms to furnish forth a wagon for the purpose. the clothes were put therein, and the queen mother placed in the wagon, likewise, an abundant supply of food and wine. the princess took her seat and plied the lash, her attendant virgins following her on foot. arrived at the river side, they turned out the mules to graze, and unlading the carriage, bore the garments down to the water, and working with cheerfulness and alacrity soon despatched their labor. then having spread the garments on the shore to dry, and having themselves bathed, they sat down to enjoy their meal; after which they rose and amused themselves with a game of ball, the princess singing to them while they played. but when they had refolded the apparel and were about to resume their way to the town, minerva caused the ball thrown by the princess to fall into the water, whereat they all screamed and ulysses awaked at the sound. now we must picture to ourselves ulysses, a ship-wrecked mariner, but a few hours escaped from the waves, and utterly destitute of clothing, awaking and discovering that only a few bushes were interposed tween him and a group of young maidens whom, by their deportment and attire, he discovered to be not mere peasant girls, but of a higher class. sadly needing help, how could he yet venture, naked as he was, to discover himself and make his wants known? it certainly was a case worthy of the interposition of his patron goddess minerva, who never failed him at a crisis. breaking off a leafy branch from a tree, he held it before him and stepped out from the thicket. the virgins at sight of him fled in all directions, nausicaa alone excepted, for her minerva aided and endowed with courage and discernment. ulysses, standing respectfully aloof, told his sad case, and besought the fair object (whether queen or goddess he professed he knew not) for food and clothing. the princess replied courteously, promising present relief and her father's hospitality when he should become acquainted with the facts. she called back her scattered maidens, chiding their alarm, and reminding them that the phaeacians had no enemies to fear. this man, she told them, was an unhappy wanderer, whom it was a duty to cherish, for the poor and stranger are from jove. she bade them bring food and clothing, for some of her brother's garments were among the contents of the wagon. when this was done, and ulysses, retiring to a sheltered place, had washed his body free from the sea-foam, clothed and refreshed himself with food, pallas dilated his form and diffused grace over his ample chest and manly brows. the princess, seeing him, was filled with admiration, and scrupled not to say to her damsels that she wished the gods would send her such a husband. to ulysses she recommended that he should repair to the city, following herself and train so far as the way lay through the fields; but when they should approach the city she desired that he would no longer be seen in her company, for she feared the remarks which rude and vulgar people might make on seeing her return accompanied by such a gallant stranger. to avoid which she directed him to stop at a grove adjoining the city, in which were a farm and garden belonging to the king. after allowing time for the princess and her companions to reach the city, he was then to pursue his way thither, and would be easily guided by any he might meet to the royal abode. ulysses obeyed the directions and in due time proceeded to the city, on approaching which he met a young woman bearing a pitcher forth for water. it was minerva, who had assumed that form. ulysses accosted her and desired to be directed to the palace of alcinous the king. the maiden replied respectfully, offering to be his guide; for the palace, she informed him, stood near her father's dwelling. under the guidance of the goddess, and by her power enveloped in a cloud which shielded him from observation, ulysses passed among the busy crowd, and with wonder observed their harbor, their ships, their forum (the resort of heroes), and their battlements, till they came to the palace, where the goddess, having first given him some information of the country, king, and people he was about to meet, left him. ulysses, before entering the courtyard of the palace, stood and surveyed the scene. its splendor astonished him. brazen walls stretched from the entrance to the interior house, of which the doors were gold, the doorposts silver, the lintels silver ornamented with gold. on either side were figures of mastiffs wrought in gold and silver, standing in rows as if to guard the approach. along the walls were seats spread through all their length with mantles of finest texture, the work of phaeacian maidens. on these seats the princes sat and feasted, while golden statues of graceful youths held in their hands lighted torches which shed radiance over the scene. full fifty female menials served in household offices, some employed to grind the corn, others to wind off the purple wool or ply the loom. for the phaeacian women as far exceeded all other women in household arts as the mariners of that country did the rest of mankind in the management of ships. without the court a spacious garden lay, four acres in extent. in it grew many a lofty tree, pomegranate, pear, apple, fig, and olive. neither winter's cold nor summer's drought arrested their growth, but they flourished in constant succession, some budding while others were maturing. the vineyard was equally prolific. in one quarter you might see the vines, some in blossom, some loaded with ripe grapes, and in another observe the vintagers treading the wine press. on the garden's borders flowers of all hues bloomed all the year round, arranged with neatest art. in the midst two fountains poured forth their waters, one flowing by artificial channels over all the garden, the other conducted through the courtyard of the palace, whence every citizen might draw his supplies. ulysses stood gazing in admiration, unobserved himself, for the cloud which minerva spread around him still shielded him. at length, having sufficiently observed the scene, he advanced with rapid step into the hall where the chiefs and senators were assembled, pouring libation to mercury, whose worship followed the evening meal. just then minerva dissolved the cloud and disclosed him to the assembled chiefs. advancing to the place where the queen sat, he knelt at her feet and implored her favor and assistance to enable him to return to his native country. then withdrawing, he seated himself in the manner of suppliants, at the hearth side. for a time none spoke. at last an aged statesman, addressing the king, said, "it is not fit that a stranger who asks our hospitality should be kept waiting in suppliant guise, none welcoming him. let him therefore be led to a seat among us and supplied with food and wine." at these words the king rising gave his hand to ulysses and led him to a seat, displacing thence his own son to make room for the stranger. food and wine were set before him and he ate and refreshed himself. the king then dismissed his guests, notifying them that the next day he would call them to council to consider what had best be done for the stranger. when the guests had departed and ulysses was left alone with the king and queen, the queen asked him who he was and whence he came, and (recognizing the clothes which he wore as those which her maidens and herself had made) from whom he received those garments. he told them of his residence in calypso's isle and his departure thence; of the wreck of his raft, his escape by swimming, and of the relief afforded by the princess. the parents heard approvingly, and the king promised to furnish a ship in which his guest might return to his own land. the next day the assembled chiefs confirmed the promise of the king. a bark was prepared and a crew of stout rowers selected, and all betook themselves to the palace, where a bounteous repast was provided. after the feast the king proposed that the young men should show their guest their proficiency in manly sports, and all went forth to the arena for games of running, wrestling, and other exercises. after all had done their best, ulysses being challenged to show what he could do, at first declined, but being taunted by one of the youths, seized a quoit of weight far heavier than any of the phaeacians had thrown, and sent it farther than the utmost throw of theirs. all were astonished, and viewed their guest with greatly increased respect. after the games they returned to the hall, and the herald led in demodocus, the blind bard,-- "... dear to the muse, who yet appointed him both good and ill, took from him sight, but gave him strains divine." he took for his theme the "wooden horse," by means of which the greeks found entrance into troy. apollo inspired him, and he sang so feelingly the terrors and the exploits of that eventful time that all were delighted, but ulysses was moved to tears. observing which, alcinous, when the song was done, demanded of him why at the mention of troy his sorrows awaked. had he lost there a father, or brother, or any dear friend? ulysses replied by announcing himself by his true name, and at their request, recounted the adventures which had befallen him since his departure from troy. this narrative raised the sympathy and admiration of the phaeacians for their guest to the highest pitch. the king proposed that all the chiefs should present him with a gift, himself setting the example. they obeyed, and vied with one another in loading the illustrious stranger with costly gifts. the next day ulysses set sail in the phaeacian vessel, and in a short time arrived safe at ithaca, his own island. when the vessel touched the strand he was asleep. the mariners, without waking him, carried him on shore, and landed with him the chest containing his presents, and then sailed away. neptune was so displeased at the conduct of the phaeacians in thus rescuing ulysses from his hands that on the return of the vessel to port he transformed it into a rock, right opposite the mouth of the harbor. homer's description of the ships of the phaeacians has been thought to look like an anticipation of the wonders of modern steam navigation. alcinous says to ulysses: "say from what city, from what regions tossed, and what inhabitants those regions boast? so shalt thou quickly reach the realm assigned, in wondrous ships, self-moved, instinct with mind; no helm secures their course, no pilot guides; like man intelligent they plough the tides, conscious of every coast and every bay that lies beneath the sun's all-seeing ray." --odyssey, book viii. lord carlisle, in his "diary in the turkish and greek waters," thus speaks of corfu, which he considers to be the ancient phaeacian island: "the sites explain the 'odyssey.' the temple of the sea-god could not have been more fitly placed, upon a grassy platform of the most elastic turf, on the brow of a crag commanding harbor, and channel, and ocean. just at the entrance of the inner harbor there is a picturesque rock with a small convent perched upon it, which by one legend is the transformed pinnace of ulysses. "almost the only river in the island is just at the proper distance from the probable site of the city and palace of the king, to justify the princess nausicaa having had resort to her chariot and to luncheon when she went with the maidens of the court to wash their garments." fate of the suitors ulysses had now been away from ithaca for twenty years, and when he awoke he did not recognize his native land. minerva appeared to him in the form of a young shepherd, informed him where he was, and told him the state of things at his palace. more than a hundred nobles of ithaca and of the neighboring islands had been for years suing for the hand of penelope, his wife, imagining him dead, and lording it over his palace and people, as if they were owners of both. that he might be able to take vengeance upon them, it was important that he should not be recognized. minerva accordingly metamorphosed him into an unsightly beggar, and as such he was kindly received by eumaeus, the swine-herd, a faithful servant of his house. telemachus, his son, was absent in quest of his father. he had gone to the courts of the other kings, who had returned from the trojan expedition. while on the search, he received counsel from minerva to return home. he arrived and sought eumaeus to learn something of the state of affairs at the palace before presenting himself among the suitors. finding a stranger with eumaeus, he treated him courteously, though in the garb of a beggar, and promised him assistance. eumaeus was sent to the palace to inform penelope privately of her son's arrival, for caution was necessary with regard to the suitors, who, as telemachus had learned, were plotting to intercept and kill him. when eumaeus was gone, minerva presented herself to ulysses, and directed him to make himself known to his son. at the same time she touched him, removed at once from him the appearance of age and penury, and gave him the aspect of vigorous manhood that belonged to him. telemachus viewed him with astonishment, and at first thought he must be more than mortal. but ulysses announced himself as his father, and accounted for the change of appearance by explaining that it was minerva's doing. "... then threw telemachus his arms around his father's neck and wept. desire intense of lamentation seized on both; soft murmurs uttering, each indulged his grief." the father and son took counsel together how they should get the better of the suitors and punish them for their outrages. it was arranged that telemachus should proceed to the palace and mingle with the suitors as formerly; that ulysses should also go as a beggar, a character which in the rude old times had different privileges from what we concede to it now. as traveller and storyteller, the beggar was admitted in the halls of chieftains, and often treated like a guest; though sometimes, also, no doubt, with contumely. ulysses charged his son not to betray, by any display of unusual interest in him, that he knew him to be other than he seemed, and even if he saw him insulted, or beaten, not to interpose otherwise than he might do for any stranger. at the palace they found the usual scene of feasting and riot going on. the suitors pretended to receive telemachus with joy at his return, though secretly mortified at the failure of their plots to take his life. the old beggar was permitted to enter, and provided with a portion from the table. a touching incident occurred as ulysses entered the courtyard of the palace. an old dog lay in the yard almost dead with age, and seeing a stranger enter, raised his head, with ears erect. it was argus, ulysses' own dog, that he had in other days often led to the chase. "... soon as he perceived long-lost ulysses nigh, down fell his ears clapped close, and with his tail glad sign he gave of gratulation, impotent to rise, and to approach his master as of old. ulysses, noting him, wiped off a tear unmarked. ... then his destiny released old argus, soon as he had lived to see ulysses in the twentieth year restored." as ulysses sat eating his portion in the hall, the suitors began to exhibit their insolence to him. when he mildly remonstrated, one of them, raised a stool and with it gave him a blow. telemachus had hard work to restrain his indignation at seeing his father so treated in his own hall, but remembering his father's injunctions, said no more than what became him as master of the house, though young, and protector of his guests. penelope had protracted her decision in favor of either of her suitors so long that there seemed to be no further pretence for delay. the continued absence of her husband seemed to prove that his return was no longer to be expected. meanwhile, her son had grown up, and was able to manage his own affairs. she therefore consented to submit the question of her choice to a trial of skill among the suitors. the test selected was shooting with the bow. twelve rings were arranged in a line, and he whose arrow was sent through the whole twelve was to have the queen for his prize. a bow that one of his brother heroes had given to ulysses in former times was brought from the armory, and with its quiver full of arrows was laid in the hall. telemachus had taken care that all other weapons should be removed, under pretence that in the heat of competition there was danger, in some rash moment, of putting them to an improper use. all things being prepared for the trial, the first thing to be done was to bend the bow in order to attach the string. telemachus endeavored to do it, but found all his efforts fruitless; and modestly confessing that he had attempted a task beyond his strength, he yielded the bow to another. he tried it with no better success, and, amidst the laughter and jeers of his companions, gave it up. another tried it and another; they rubbed the bow with tallow, but all to no purpose; it would not bend. then spoke ulysses, humbly suggesting that he should be permitted to try; for, said he, "beggar as i am, i was once a soldier, and there is still some strength in these old limbs of mine." the suitors hooted with derision, and commanded to turn him out of the hall for his insolence. but telemachus spoke up for him, and, merely to gratify the old man, bade him try. ulysses took the bow, and handled it with the hand of a master. with ease he adjusted the cord to its notch, then fitting an arrow to the bow he drew the string and sped the arrow unerring through the rings. without allowing them time to express their astonishment, he said, "now for another mark!" and aimed direct at the most insolent one of the suitors. the arrow pierced through his throat and he fell dead. telemachus, eumaeus, and another faithful follower, well armed, now sprang to the side of ulysses. the suitors, in amazement, looked round for arms, but found none, neither was there any way of escape, for eumaeus had secured the door. ulysses left them not long in uncertainty; he announced himself as the long-lost chief, whose house they had invaded, whose substance they had squandered, whose wife and son they had persecuted for ten long years; and told them he meant to have ample vengeance. all were slain, and ulysses was left master of his palace and possessor of his kingdom and his wife. tennyson's poem of "ulysses" represents the old hero, after his dangers past and nothing left but to stay at home and be happy, growing tired of inaction and resolving to set forth again in quest of new adventures. "... come, my friends, 'tis not too late to seek a newer world. push off, and sitting well in order smite the sounding furrows; for my purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset, and the baths of all the western stars, until i die. it may be that the gulfs will wash us down; it may be we shall touch the happy isles, and see the great achilles whom we knew;" etc. chapter xxxi adventures of aeneas--the harpies--dido--palinurus adventures of aeneas we have followed one of the grecian heroes, ulysses, in his wanderings on his return home from troy, and now we propose to share the fortunes of the remnant of the conquered people, under their chief aeneas, in their search for a new home, after the ruin of their native city. on that fatal night when the wooden horse disgorged its contents of armed men, and the capture and conflagration of the city were the result, aeneas made his escape from the scene of destruction, with his father, and his wife, and young son. the father, anchises, was too old to walk with the speed required, and aeneas took him upon his shoulders. thus burdened, leading his son and followed by his wife, he made the best of his way out of the burning city; but, in the confusion, his wife was swept away and lost. on arriving at the place of rendezvous, numerous fugitives, of both sexes, were found, who put themselves under the guidance of aeneas. some months were spent in preparation, and at length they embarked. they first landed on the neighboring shores of thrace, and were preparing to build a city, but aeneas was deterred by a prodigy. preparing to offer sacrifice, he tore some twigs from one of the bushes. to his dismay the wounded part dropped blood. when he repeated the act a voice from the ground cried out to him, "spare me, aeneas; i am your kinsman, polydore, here murdered with many arrows, from which a bush has grown, nourished with my blood." these words recalled to the recollection of aeneas that polydore was a young prince of troy, whom his father had sent with ample treasures to the neighboring land of thrace, to be there brought up, at a distance from the horrors of war. the king to whom he was sent had murdered him and seized his treasures. aeneas and his companions, considering the land accursed by the stain of such a crime, hastened away. they next landed on the island of delos, which was once a floating island, till jupiter fastened it by adamantine chains to the bottom of the sea. apollo and diana were born there, and the island was sacred to apollo. here aeneas consulted the oracle of apollo, and received an answer, ambiguous as usual,--"seek your ancient mother; there the race of aeneas shall dwell, and reduce all other nations to their sway." the trojans heard with joy and immediately began to ask one another, "where is the spot intended by the oracle?" anchises remembered that there was a tradition that their forefathers came from crete and thither they resolved to steer. they arrived at crete and began to build their city, but sickness broke out among them, and the fields that they had planted failed to yield a crop. in this gloomy aspect of affairs aeneas was warned in a dream to leave the country and seek a western land, called hesperia, whence dardanus, the true founder of the trojan race, had originally migrated. to hesperia, now called italy, therefore, they directed their future course, and not till after many adventures and the lapse of time sufficient to carry a modern navigator several times round the world, did they arrive there. their first landing was at the island of the harpies. these were disgusting birds with the heads of maidens, with long claws and faces pale with hunger. they were sent by the gods to torment a certain phineus, whom jupiter had deprived of his sight, in punishment of his cruelty; and whenever a meal was placed before him the harpies darted down from the air and carried it off. they were driven away from phineus by the heroes of the argonautic expedition, and took refuge in the island where aeneas now found them. when they entered the port the trojans saw herds of cattle roaming over the plain. they slew as many as they wished and prepared for a feast. but no sooner had they seated themselves at the table than a horrible clamor was heard in the air, and a flock of these odious harpies came rushing down upon them, seizing in their talons the meat from the dishes and flying away with it. aeneas and his companions drew their swords and dealt vigorous blows among the monsters, but to no purpose, for they were so nimble it was almost impossible to hit them, and their feathers were like armor impenetrable to steel. one of them, perched on a neighboring cliff, screamed out, "is it thus, trojans, you treat us innocent birds, first slaughter our cattle and then make war on ourselves?" she then predicted dire sufferings to them in their future course, and having vented her wrath flew away. the trojans made haste to leave the country, and next found themselves coasting along the shore of epirus. here they landed, and to their astonishment learned that certain trojan exiles, who had been carried there as prisoners, had become rulers of the country. andromache, the widow of hector, became the wife of one of the victorious grecian chiefs, to whom she bore a son. her husband dying, she was left regent of the country, as guardian of her son, and had married a fellow-captive, helenus, of the royal race of troy. helenus and andromache treated the exiles with the utmost hospitality, and dismissed them loaded with gifts. from hence aeneas coasted along the shore of sicily and passed the country of the cyclopes. here they were hailed from the shore by a miserable object, whom by his garments, tattered as they were, they perceived to be a greek. he told them he was one of ulysses's companions, left behind by that chief in his hurried departure. he related the story of ulysses's adventure with polyphemus, and besought them to take him off with them as he had no means of sustaining his existence where he was but wild berries and roots, and lived in constant fear of the cyclopes. while he spoke polyphemus made his appearance; a terrible monster, shapeless, vast, whose only eye had been put out. [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] he walked with cautious steps, feeling his way with a staff, down to the sea-side, to wash his eye-socket in the waves. when he reached the water, he waded out towards them, and his immense height enabled him to advance far into the sea, so that the trojans, in terror, took to their oars to get out of his way. hearing the oars, polyphemus shouted after them, so that the shores resounded, and at the noise the other cyclopes came forth from their caves and woods and lined the shore, like a row of lofty pine trees. the trojans plied their oars and soon left them out of sight. aeneas had been cautioned by helenus to avoid the strait guarded by the monsters scylla and charybdis. there ulysses, the reader will remember, had lost six of his men, seized by scylla while the navigators were wholly intent upon avoiding charybdis. aeneas, following the advice of helenus, shunned the dangerous pass and coasted along the island of sicily. juno, seeing the trojans speeding their way prosperously towards their destined shore, felt her old grudge against them revive, for she could not forget the slight that paris had put upon her, in awarding the prize of beauty to another. in heavenly minds can such resentments dwell. [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] accordingly she hastened to aeolus, the ruler of the winds,--the same who supplied ulysses with favoring gales, giving him the contrary ones tied up in a bag. aeolus obeyed the goddess and sent forth his sons, boreas, typhon, and the other winds, to toss the ocean. a terrible storm ensued and the trojan ships were driven out of their course towards the coast of africa. they were in imminent danger of being wrecked, and were separated, so that aeneas thought that all were lost except his own. at this crisis, neptune, hearing the storm raging, and knowing that he had given no orders for one, raised his head above the waves, and saw the fleet of aeneas driving before the gale. knowing the hostility of juno, he was at no loss to account for it, but his anger was not the less at this interference in his province. he called the winds and dismissed them with a severe reprimand. he then soothed the waves, and brushed away the clouds from before the face of the sun. some of the ships which had got on the rocks he pried off with his own trident, while triton and a sea-nymph, putting their shoulders under others, set them afloat again. the trojans, when the sea became calm, sought the nearest shore, which was the coast of carthage, where aeneas was so happy as to find that one by one the ships all arrived safe, though badly shaken. waller, in his "panegyric to the lord protector" (cromwell), alludes to this stilling of the storm by neptune: "above the waves, as neptune showed his face, to chide the winds and save the trojan race, so has your highness, raised above the rest, storms of ambition tossing us repressed." dido carthage, where the exiles had now arrived, was a spot on the coast of africa opposite sicily, where at that time a tyrian colony under dido, their queen, were laying the foundations of a state destined in later ages to be the rival of rome itself. dido was the daughter of belus, king of tyre, and sister of pygmalion, who succeeded his father on the throne. her husband was sichaeus, a man of immense wealth, but pygmalion, who coveted his treasures, caused him to be put to death. dido, with a numerous body of friends and followers, both men and women, succeeded in effecting their escape from tyre, in several vessels, carrying with them the treasures of sichaeus. on arriving at the spot which they selected as the seat of their future home, they asked of the natives only so much land as they could enclose with a bull's hide. when this was readily granted, she caused the hide to be cut into strips, and with them enclosed a spot on which she built a citadel, and called it byrsa (a hide). around this fort the city of carthage rose, and soon became a powerful and flourishing place. such was the state of affairs when aeneas with his trojans arrived there. dido received the illustrious exiles with friendliness and hospitality. "not unacquainted with distress," she said, "i have learned to succor the unfortunate." [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] the queen's hospitality displayed itself in festivities at which games of strength and skill were exhibited. the strangers contended for the palm with her own subjects, on equal terms, the queen declaring that whether the victor were "trojan or tyrian should make no difference to her." [footnote : see proverbial expressions.] at the feast which followed the games, aeneas gave at her request a recital of the closing events of the trojan history and his own adventures after the fall of the city. dido was charmed with his discourse and filled with admiration of his exploits. she conceived an ardent passion for him, and he for his part seemed well content to accept the fortunate chance which appeared to offer him at once a happy termination of his wanderings, a home, a kingdom, and a bride. months rolled away in the enjoyment of pleasant intercourse, and it seemed as if italy and the empire destined to be founded on its shores were alike forgotten. seeing which, jupiter despatched mercury with a message to aeneas recalling him to a sense of his high destiny, and commanding him to resume his voyage. aeneas parted from dido, though she tried every allurement and persuasion to detain him. the blow to her affection and her pride was too much for her to endure, and when she found that he was gone, she mounted a funeral pile which she had caused to be erected, and having stabbed herself was consumed with the pile. the flames rising over the city were seen by the departing trojans, and, though the cause was unknown, gave to aeneas some intimation of the fatal event. the following epigram we find in "elegant extracts": from the latin "unhappy, dido, was thy fate in first and second married state! one husband caused thy flight by dying, thy death the other caused by flying" palinurus after touching at the island of sicily, where acestes, a prince of trojan lineage, bore sway, who gave them a hospitable reception, the trojans re-embarked, and held on their course for italy. venus now interceded with neptune to allow her son at last to attain the wished-for goal and find an end of his perils on the deep. neptune consented, stipulating only for one life as a ransom for the rest. the victim was palinurus, the pilot. as he sat watching the stars, with his hand on the helm, somnus sent by neptune approached in the guise of phorbas and said: "palinurus, the breeze is fair, the water smooth, and the ship sails steadily on her course. lie down awhile and take needful rest. i will stand at the helm in your place." palinurus replied, "tell me not of smooth seas or favoring winds,--me who have seen so much of their treachery. shall i trust aeneas to the chances of the weather and the winds?" and he continued to grasp the helm and to keep his eyes fixed on the stars. but somnus waved over him a branch moistened with lethaean dew, and his eyes closed in spite of all his efforts. then somnus pushed him overboard and he fell; but keeping his hold upon the helm, it came away with him. neptune was mindful of his promise and kept the ship on her track without helm or pilot, till aeneas discovered his loss, and, sorrowing deeply for his faithful steersman, took charge of the ship himself. there is a beautiful allusion to the story of palinurus in scott's "marmion," introduction to canto i., where the poet, speaking of the recent death of william pitt, says: "o, think how, to his latest day, when death just hovering claimed his prey, with palinure's unaltered mood, firm at his dangerous post he stood; each call for needful rest repelled, with dying hand the rudder held, till in his fall, with fateful sway, the steerage of the realm gave way." the ships at last reached the shores of italy, and joyfully did the adventurers leap to land. while his people were employed in making their encampment aeneas sought the abode of the sibyl. it was a cave connected with a temple and grove, sacred to apollo and diana. while aeneas contemplated the scene, the sibyl accosted him. she seemed to know his errand, and under the influence of the deity of the place, burst forth in a prophetic strain, giving dark intimations of labors and perils through which he was destined to make his way to final success. she closed with the encouraging words which have become proverbial: "yield not to disasters, but press onward the more bravely." [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] aeneas replied that he had prepared himself for whatever might await him. he had but one request to make. having been directed in a dream to seek the abode of the dead in order to confer with his father, anchises, to receive from him a revelation of his future fortunes and those of his race, he asked her assistance to enable him to accomplish the task. the sibyl replied, "the descent to avernus is easy: the gate of pluto stands open night and day; but to retrace one's steps and return to the upper air, that is the toil, that the difficulty."[footnote: see proverbial expressions.] she instructed him to seek in the forest a tree on which grew a golden branch. this branch was to be plucked off and borne as a gift to proserpine, and if fate was propitious it would yield to the hand and quit its parent trunk, but otherwise no force could rend it away. if torn away, another would succeed.[footnote: see proverbial expressions.] aeneas followed the directions of the sibyl. his mother, venus, sent two of her doves to fly before him and show him the way, and by their assistance he found the tree, plucked the branch, and hastened back with it to the sibyl. chapter xxxii the infernal regions--the sibyl the infernal regions as at the commencement of our series we have given the pagan account of the creation of the world, so as we approach its conclusion we present a view of the regions of the dead, depicted by one of their most enlightened poets, who drew his doctrines from their most esteemed philosophers. the region where virgil locates the entrance to this abode is perhaps the most strikingly adapted to excite ideas of the terrific and preternatural of any on the face of the earth. it is the volcanic region near vesuvius, where the whole country is cleft with chasms, from which sulphurous flames arise, while the ground is shaken with pent-up vapors, and mysterious sounds issue from the bowels of the earth. the lake avernus is supposed to fill the crater of an extinct volcano. it is circular, half a mile wide, and very deep, surrounded by high banks, which in virgil's time were covered with a gloomy forest. mephitic vapors rise from its waters, so that no life is found on its banks, and no birds fly over it. here, according to the poet, was the cave which afforded access to the infernal regions, and here aeneas offered sacrifices to the infernal deities, proserpine, hecate, and the furies. then a roaring was heard in the earth, the woods on the hill-tops were shaken, and the howling of dogs announced the approach of the deities. "now," said the sibyl, "summon up your courage, for you will need it." she descended into the cave, and aeneas followed. before the threshold of hell they passed through a group of beings who are enumerated as griefs and avenging cares, pale diseases and melancholy age, fear and hunger that tempt to crime, toil, poverty, and death,--forms horrible to view. the furies spread their couches there, and discord, whose hair was of vipers tied up with a bloody fillet. here also were the monsters, briareus, with his hundred arms, hydras hissing, and chimaeras breathing fire. aeneas shuddered at the sight, drew his sword and would have struck, but the sibyl restrained him. they then came to the black river cocytus, where they found the ferryman, charon, old and squalid, but strong and vigorous, who was receiving passengers of all kinds into his boat, magnanimous heroes, boys and unmarried girls, as numerous as the leaves that fall at autumn, or the flocks that fly southward at the approach of winter. they stood pressing for a passage and longing to touch the opposite shore. but the stern ferryman took in only such as he chose, driving the rest back. aeneas, wondering at the sight, asked the sibyl, "why this discrimination?" she answered, "those who are taken on board the bark are the souls of those who have received due burial rites; the host of others who have remained unburied are not permitted to pass the flood, but wander a hundred years, and flit to and fro about the shore, till at last they are taken over." aeneas grieved at recollecting some of his own companions who had perished in the storm. at that moment he beheld palinurus, his pilot, who fell overboard and was drowned. he addressed him and asked him the cause of his misfortune. palinurus replied that the rudder was carried away, and he, clinging to it, was swept away with it. he besought aeneas most urgently to extend to him his hand and take him in company to the opposite shore. but the sibyl rebuked him for the wish thus to transgress the laws of pluto; but consoled him by informing him that the people of the shore where his body had been wafted by the waves should be stirred up by prodigies to give it due burial, and that the promontory should bear the name of cape palinurus, which it does to this day. leaving palinurus consoled by these words, they approached the boat. charon, fixing his eyes sternly upon the advancing warrior, demanded by what right he, living and armed, approached that shore. to which the sibyl replied that they would commit no violence, that aeneas's only object was to see his father, and finally exhibited the golden branch, at sight of which charon's wrath relaxed, and he made haste to turn his bark to the shore, and receive them on board. the boat, adapted only to the light freight of bodiless spirits, groaned under the weight of the hero. they were soon conveyed to the opposite shore. there they were encountered by the three-headed dog, cerberus, with his necks bristling with snakes. he barked with all his three throats till the sibyl threw him a medicated cake which he eagerly devoured, and then stretched himself out in his den and fell asleep. aeneas and the sibyl sprang to land. the first sound that struck their ears was the wailing of young children, who had died on the threshold of life, and near to these were they who had perished under false charges. minos presides over them as judge, and examines the deeds of each. the next class was of those who had died by their own hand, hating life and seeking refuge in death. o how willingly would they now endure poverty, labor, and any other infliction, if they might but return to life! next were situated the regions of sadness, divided off into retired paths, leading through groves of myrtle. here roamed those who had fallen victims to unrequited love, not freed from pain even by death itself. among these, aeneas thought he descried the form of dido, with a wound still recent. in the dim light he was for a moment uncertain, but approaching, perceived it was indeed herself. tears fell from his eyes, and he addressed her in the accents of love. "unhappy dido! was then the rumor true that you had perished? and was i, alas! the cause? i call the gods to witness that my departure from you was reluctant, and in obedience to the commands of jove; nor could i believe that my absence would cost you so dear. stop, i beseech you, and refuse me not a last farewell." she stood for a moment with averted countenance, and eyes fixed on the ground, and then silently passed on, as insensible to his pleadings as a rock. aeneas followed for some distance; then, with a heavy heart, rejoined his companion and resumed his route. they next entered the fields where roam the heroes who have fallen in battle. here they saw many shades of grecian and trojan warriors. the trojans thronged around him, and could not be satisfied with the sight. they asked the cause of his coming, and plied him with innumerable questions. but the greeks, at the sight of his armor glittering through the murky atmosphere, recognized the hero, and filled with terror turned their backs and fled, as they used to do on the plains of troy. aeneas would have lingered long with his trojan friends, but the sibyl hurried him away. they next came to a place where the road divided, the one leading to elysium, the other to the regions of the condemned. aeneas beheld on one side the walls of a mighty city, around which phlegethon rolled its fiery waters. before him was the gate of adamant that neither gods nor men can break through. an iron tower stood by the gate, on which tisiphone, the avenging fury, kept guard. from the city were heard groans, and the sound of the scourge, the creaking of iron, and the clanking of chains. aeneas, horror-struck, inquired of his guide what crimes were those whose punishments produced the sounds he heard? the sibyl answered, "here is the judgment hall of rhadamanthus, who brings to light crimes done in life, which the perpetrator vainly thought impenetrably hid. tisiphone applies her whip of scorpions, and delivers the offender over to her sister furies." at this moment with horrid clang the brazen gates unfolded, and aeneas saw within a hydra with fifty heads guarding the entrance. the sibyl told him that the gulf of tartarus descended deep, so that its recesses were as far beneath their feet as heaven was high above their heads. in the bottom of this pit, the titan race, who warred against the gods, lie prostrate; salmoneus, also, who presumed to vie with jupiter, and built a bridge of brass over which he drove his chariot that the sound might resemble thunder, launching flaming brands at his people in imitation of lightning, till jupiter struck him with a real thunderbolt, and taught him the difference between mortal weapons and divine. here, also, is tityus, the giant, whose form is so immense that as he lies he stretches over nine acres, while a vulture preys upon his liver, which as fast as it is devoured grows again, so that his punishment will have no end. aeneas saw groups seated at tables loaded with dainties, while near by stood a fury who snatched away the viands from their lips as fast as they prepared to taste them. others beheld suspended over their heads huge rocks, threatening to fall, keeping them in a state of constant alarm. these were they who had hated their brothers, or struck their parents, or defrauded the friends who trusted them, or who, having grown rich, kept their money to themselves, and gave no share to others; the last being the most numerous class. here also were those who had violated the marriage vow, or fought in a bad cause, or failed in fidelity to their employers. here was one who had sold his country for gold, another who perverted the laws, making them say one thing to-day and another to-morrow. ixion was there, fastened to the circumference of a wheel ceaselessly revolving; and sisyphus, whose task was to roll a huge stone up to a hill-top, but when the steep was well-nigh gained, the rock, repulsed by some sudden force, rushed again headlong down to the plain. again he toiled at it, while the sweat bathed all his weary limbs, but all to no effect. there was tantalus, who stood in a pool, his chin level with the water, yet he was parched with thirst, and found nothing to assuage it; for when he bowed his hoary head, eager to quaff, the water fled away, leaving the ground at his feet all dry. tall trees laden with fruit stooped their heads to him, pears, pomegranates, apples, and luscious figs; but when with a sudden grasp he tried to seize them winds whirled them high above his reach. the sibyl now warned aeneas that it was time to turn from these melancholy regions and seek the city of the blessed. they passed through a middle tract of darkness, and came upon the elysian fields, the groves where the happy reside. they breathed a freer air, and saw all objects clothed in a purple light. the region has a sun and stars of its own. the inhabitants were enjoying themselves in various ways, some in sports on the grassy turf, in games of strength or skill. others dancing or singing. orpheus struck the chords of his lyre, and called forth ravishing sounds. here aeneas saw the founders of the trojan state, magnanimous heroes who lived in happier times. he gazed with admiration on the war chariots and glittering arms now reposing in disuse. spears stood fixed in the ground, and the horses, unharnessed, roamed over the plain. the same pride in splendid armor and generous steeds which the old heroes felt in life, accompanied them here. he saw another group feasting and listening to the strains of music. they were in a laurel grove, whence the great river po has its origin, and flows out among men. here dwelt those who fell by wounds received in their country's cause, holy priests also, and poets who have uttered thoughts worthy of apollo, and others who have contributed to cheer and adorn life by their discoveries in the useful arts, and have made their memory blessed by rendering service to mankind. they wore snow-white fillets about their brows. the sibyl addressed a group of these, and inquired where anchises was to be found. they were directed where to seek him, and soon found him in a verdant valley, where he was contemplating the ranks of his posterity, their destinies and worthy deeds to be achieved in coming times. when he recognized aeneas approaching, he stretched out both hands to him, while tears flowed freely. "have you come at last," said he, "long expected, and do i behold you after such perils past? o my son, how have i trembled for you as i have watched your career!" to which aeneas replied, "o father! your image was always before me to guide and guard me." then he endeavored to enfold his father in his embrace, but his arms enclosed only an unsubstantial image. aeneas perceived before him a spacious valley, with trees gently waving to the wind, a tranquil landscape, through which the river lethe flowed. along the banks of the stream wandered a countless multitude, numerous as insects in the summer air. aeneas, with surprise, inquired who were these. anchises answered, "they are souls to which bodies are to be given in due time. meanwhile they dwell on lethe's bank, and drink oblivion of their former lives." "o father!" said aeneas, "is it possible that any can be so in love with life as to wish to leave these tranquil seats for the upper world?" anchises replied by explaining the plan of creation. the creator, he told him, originally made the material of which souls are composed of the four elements, fire, air, earth, and water, all which when united took the form of the most excellent part, fire, and became flame. this material was scattered like seed among the heavenly bodies, the sun, moon, and stars. of this seed the inferior gods created man and all other animals, mingling it with various proportions of earth, by which its purity was alloyed and reduced. thus, the more earth predominates in the composition the less pure is the individual; and we see men and women with their full-grown bodies have not the purity of childhood. so in proportion to the time which the union of body and soul has lasted is the impurity contracted by the spiritual part. this impurity must be purged away after death, which is done by ventilating the souls in the current of winds, or merging them in water, or burning out their impurities by fire. some few, of whom anchises intimates that he is one, are admitted at once to elysium, there to remain. but the rest, after the impurities of earth are purged away, are sent back to life endowed with new bodies, having had the remembrance of their former lives effectually washed away by the waters of lethe. some, however, there still are, so thoroughly corrupted, that they are not fit to be intrusted with human bodies, and these are made into brute animals, lions, tigers, cats, dogs, monkeys, etc. this is what the ancients called metempsychosis, or the transmigration of souls; a doctrine which is still held by the natives of india, who scruple to destroy the life even of the most insignificant animal, not knowing but it may be one of their relations in an altered form. anchises, having explained so much, proceeded to point out to aeneas individuals of his race, who were hereafter to be born, and to relate to him the exploits they should perform in the world. after this he reverted to the present, and told his son of the events that remained to him to be accomplished before the complete establishment of himself and his followers in italy. wars were to be waged, battles fought, a bride to be won, and in the result a trojan state founded, from which should rise the roman power, to be in time the sovereign of the world. aeneas and the sibyl then took leave of anchises, and returned by some short cut, which the poet does not explain, to the upper world. elysium virgil, we have seen, places his elysium under the earth, and assigns it for a residence to the spirits of the blessed. but in homer elysium forms no part of the realms of the dead. he places it on the west of the earth, near ocean, and describes it as a happy land, where there is neither snow, nor cold, nor rain, and always fanned by the delightful breezes of zephyrus. hither favored heroes pass without dying and live happy under the rule of rhadamanthus. the elysium of hesiod and pindar is in the isles of the blessed, or fortunate islands, in the western ocean. from these sprang the legend of the happy island atlantis. this blissful region may have been wholly imaginary, but possibly may have sprung from the reports of some storm-driven mariners who had caught a glimpse of the coast of america. j. r. lowell, in one of his shorter poems, claims for the present age some of the privileges of that happy realm. addressing the past, he says: "whatever of true life there was in thee, leaps in our age's veins. here, 'mid the bleak waves of our strife and care, float the green 'fortunate isles,' where all thy hero-spirits dwell and share our martyrdoms and toils. the present moves attended with all of brave and excellent and fair that made the old time splendid." milton also alludes to the same fable in "paradise lost," book iii, . : "like those hesperian gardens famed of old, fortunate fields and groves and flowery vales, thrice happy isles." and in book ii. he characterizes the rivers of erebus according to the meaning of their names in the greek language: "abhorred styx, the flood of deadly hate, sad acheron of sorrow black and deep; cocytus named of lamentation loud heard on the rueful stream; fierce phlegethon whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage. far off from these a slow and silent stream, lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks forthwith his former state and being forgets, forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain." the sibyl as aeneas and the sibyl pursued their way back to earth, he said to her, "whether thou be a goddess or a mortal beloved of the gods, by me thou shalt always be held in reverence. when i reach the upper air i will cause a temple to be built to thy honor, and will myself bring offerings." "i am no goddess," said the sibyl; "i have no claim to sacrifice or offering. i am mortal; yet if i could have accepted the love of apollo i might have been immortal. he promised me the fulfilment of my wish, if i would consent to be his. i took a handful of sand, and holding it forth, said, 'grant me to see as many birthdays as there are sand grains in my hand.' unluckily i forgot to ask for enduring youth. this also he would have granted, could i have accepted his love, but offended at my refusal, he allowed me to grow old. my youth and youthful strength fled long ago. i have lived seven hundred years, and to equal the number of the sand grains i have still to see three hundred springs and three hundred harvests. my body shrinks up as years increase, and in time, i shall be lost to sight, but my voice will remain, and future ages will respect my sayings." these concluding words of the sibyl alluded to her prophetic power. in her cave she was accustomed to inscribe on leaves gathered from the trees the names and fates of individuals. the leaves thus inscribed were arranged in order within the cave, and might be consulted by her votaries. but if perchance at the opening of the door the wind rushed in and dispersed the leaves the sibyl gave no aid to restoring them again, and the oracle was irreparably lost. the following legend of the sibyl is fixed at a later date. in the reign of one of the tarquins there appeared before the king a woman who offered him nine books for sale. the king refused to purchase them, whereupon the woman went away and burned three of the books, and returning offered the remaining books for the same price she had asked for the nine. the king again rejected them; but when the woman, after burning three books more, returned and asked for the three remaining the same price which she had before asked for the nine, his curiosity was excited, and he purchased the books. they were found to contain the destinies of the roman state. they were kept in the temple of jupiter capitolinus, preserved in a stone chest, and allowed to be inspected only by especial officers appointed for that duty, who, on great occasions, consulted them and interpreted their oracles to the people. there were various sibyls; but the cumaean sibyl, of whom ovid and virgil write, is the most celebrated of them. ovid's story of her life protracted to one thousand years may be intended to represent the various sibyls as being only reappearances of one and the same individual. young, in the "night thoughts," alludes to the sibyl. speaking of worldly wisdom, he says: "if future fate she plans 'tis all in leaves, like sibyl, unsubstantial, fleeting bliss; at the first blast it vanishes in air. as worldly schemes resemble sibyl's leaves, the good man's days to sibyl's books compare, the price still rising as in number less." chapter xxxiii camilla--evander--nisus and euryalus--mezentius--turnus aeneas, having parted from the sibyl and rejoined his fleet, coasted along the shores of italy and cast anchor in the mouth of the tiber. the poet, having brought his hero to this spot, the destined termination of his wanderings, invokes his muse to tell him the situation of things at that eventful moment. latinus, third in descent from saturn, ruled the country. he was now old and had no male descendant, but had one charming daughter, lavinia, who was sought in marriage by many neighboring chiefs, one of whom, turnus, king of the rutulians, was favored by the wishes of her parents. but latinus had been warned in a dream by his father faunus, that the destined husband of lavinia should come from a foreign land. from that union should spring a race destined to subdue the world. our readers will remember that in the conflict with the harpies one of those half-human birds had threatened the trojans with dire sufferings. in particular she predicted that before their wanderings ceased they should be pressed by hunger to devour their tables. this portent now came true; for as they took their scanty meal, seated on the grass, the men placed their hard biscuit on their laps, and put thereon whatever their gleanings in the woods supplied. having despatched the latter they finished by eating the crusts. seeing which, the boy iulus said playfully, "see, we are eating our tables." aeneas caught the words and accepted the omen. "all hail, promised land!" he exclaimed, "this is our home, this our country." he then took measures to find out who were the present inhabitants of the land, and who their rulers. a hundred chosen men were sent to the village of latinus, bearing presents and a request for friendship and alliance. they went and were favorably received. latinus immediately concluded that the trojan hero was no other than the promised son-in-law announced by the oracle. he cheerfully granted his alliance and sent back the messengers mounted on steeds from his stables, and loaded with gifts and friendly messages. juno, seeing things go thus prosperously for the trojans, felt her old animosity revive, summoned alecto from erebus, and sent her to stir up discord. the fury first took possession of the queen, amata, and roused her to oppose in every way the new alliance. alecto then speeded to the city of turnus, and assuming the form of an old priestess, informed him of the arrival of the foreigners and of the attempts of their prince to rob him of his bride. next she turned her attention to the camp of the trojans. there she saw the boy iulus and his companions amusing themselves with hunting. she sharpened the scent of the dogs, and led them to rouse up from the thicket a tame stag, the favorite of silvia, the daughter of tyrrheus, the king's herdsman. a javelin from the hand of iulus wounded the animal, and he had only strength left to run homewards, and died at his mistress's feet. her cries and tears roused her brothers and the herdsmen, and they, seizing whatever weapons came to hand, furiously assaulted the hunting party. these were protected by their friends, and the herdsmen were finally driven back with the loss of two of their number. these things were enough to rouse the storm of war, and the queen, turnus, and the peasants all urged the old king to drive the strangers from the country. he resisted as long as he could, but, finding his opposition unavailing, finally gave way and retreated to his retirement. opening the gates of janus it was the custom of the country, when war was to be undertaken, for the chief magistrate, clad in his robes of office, with solemn pomp to open the gates of the temple of janus, which were kept shut as long as peace endured. his people now urged the old king to perform that solemn office, but he refused to do so. while they contested, juno herself, descending from the skies, smote the doors with irresistible force, and burst them open. immediately the whole country was in a flame. the people rushed from every side breathing nothing but war. turnus was recognized by all as leader; others joined as allies, chief of whom was mezentius, a brave and able soldier, but of detestable cruelty. he had been the chief of one of the neighboring cities, but his people drove him out. with him was joined his son lausus, a generous youth, worthy of a better sire. camilla camilla, the favorite of diana, a huntress and warrior, after the fashion of the amazons, came with her band of mounted followers, including a select number of her own sex, and ranged herself on the side of turnus. this maiden had never accustomed her fingers to the distaff or the loom, but had learned to endure the toils of war, and in speed to outstrip the wind. it seemed as if she might run over the standing corn without crushing it, or over the surface of the water without dipping her feet. camilla's history had been singular from the beginning. her father, metabus, driven from his city by civil discord, carried with him in his flight his infant daughter. as he fled through the woods, his enemies in hot pursuit, he reached the bank of the river amazenus, which, swelled by rains, seemed to debar a passage. he paused for a moment, then decided what to do. he tied the infant to his lance with wrappers of bark, and poising the weapon in his upraised hand thus addressed diana: "goddess of the woods! i consecrate this maid to you;" then hurled the weapon with its burden to the opposite bank. the spear flew across the roaring water. his pursuers were already upon him, but he plunged into the river and swam across, and found the spear, with the infant safe on the other side. thenceforth he lived among the shepherds and brought up his daughter in woodland arts. while a child she was taught to use the bow and throw the javelin. with her sling she could bring down the crane or the wild swan. her dress was a tiger's skin. many mothers sought her for a daughter-in-law, but she continued faithful to diana and repelled the thought of marriage. evander such were the formidable allies that ranged themselves against aeneas. it was night and he lay stretched in sleep on the bank of the river under the open heavens. the god of the stream, father tiber, seemed to raise his head above the willows and to say, "o goddess-born, destined possessor of the latin realms, this is the promised land, here is to be your home, here shall terminate the hostility of the heavenly powers, if only you faithfully persevere. there are friends not far distant. prepare your boats and row up my stream; i will lead you to evander, the arcadian chief, he has long been at strife with turnus and the rutulians, and is prepared to become an ally of yours. rise! offer your vows to juno, and deprecate her anger. when you have achieved your victory then think of me." aeneas woke and paid immediate obedience to the friendly vision. he sacrificed to juno, and invoked the god of the river and all his tributary fountains to lend their aid. then for the first time a vessel filled with armed warriors floated on the stream of the tiber. the river smoothed its waves, and bade its current flow gently, while, impelled by the vigorous strokes of the rowers, the vessels shot rapidly up the stream. about the middle of the day they came in sight of the scattered buildings of the infant town, where in after times the proud city of rome grew, whose glory reached the skies. by chance the old king, evander, was that day celebrating annual solemnities in honor of hercules and all the gods. pallas, his son, and all the chiefs of the little commonwealth stood by. when they saw the tall ship gliding onward near the wood, they were alarmed at the sight, and rose from the tables. but pallas forbade the solemnities to be interrupted, and seizing a weapon, stepped forward to the river's bank. he called aloud, demanding who they were, and what their object. aeneas, holding forth an olive-branch, replied, "we are trojans, friends to you, and enemies to the rutulians. we seek evander, and offer to join our arms with yours." pallas, in amaze at the sound of so great a name, invited them to land, and when aeneas touched the shore he seized his hand, and held it long in friendly grasp. proceeding through the wood, they joined the king and his party and were most favorably received. seats were provided for them at the tables, and the repast proceeded. infant rome when the solemnities were ended all moved towards the city. the king, bending with age, walked between his son and aeneas, taking the arm of one or the other of them, and with much variety of pleasing talk shortening the way. aeneas with delight looked and listened, observing all the beauties of the scene, and learning much of heroes renowned in ancient times. evander said, "these extensive groves were once inhabited by fauns and nymphs, and a rude race of men who sprang from the trees themselves, and had neither laws nor social culture. they knew not how to yoke the cattle nor raise a harvest, nor provide from present abundance for future want; but browsed like beasts upon the leafy boughs, or fed voraciously on their hunted prey. such were they when saturn, expelled from olympus by his sons, came among them and drew together the fierce savages, formed them into society, and gave them laws. such peace and plenty ensued that men ever since have called his reign the golden age; but by degrees far other times succeeded, and the thirst of gold and the thirst of blood prevailed. the land was a prey to successive tyrants, till fortune and resistless destiny brought me hither, an exile from my native land, arcadia." having thus said, he showed him the tarpeian rock, and the rude spot then overgrown with bushes where in after times the capitol rose in all its magnificence. he next pointed to some dismantled walls, and said, "here stood janiculum, built by janus, and there saturnia, the town of saturn." such discourse brought them to the cottage of poor evander, whence they saw the lowing herds roaming over the plain where now the proud and stately forum stands. they entered, and a couch was spread for aeneas, well stuffed with leaves, and covered with the skin of a libyan bear. next morning, awakened by the dawn and the shrill song of birds beneath the eaves of his low mansion, old evander rose. clad in a tunic, and a panther's skin thrown over his shoulders, with sandals on his feet and his good sword girded to his side, he went forth to seek his guest. two mastiffs followed him, his whole retinue and body guard. he found the hero attended by his faithful achates, and, pallas soon joining them, the old king spoke thus: "illustrious trojan, it is but little we can do in so great a cause. our state is feeble, hemmed in on one side by the river, on the other by the rutulians. but i propose to ally you with a people numerous and rich, to whom fate has brought you at the propitious moment. the etruscans hold the country beyond the river. mezentius was their king, a monster of cruelty, who invented unheard-of torments to gratify his vengeance. he would fasten the dead to the living, hand to hand and face to face, and leave the wretched victims to die in that dreadful embrace. at length the people cast him out, him and his house. they burned his palace and slew his friends. he escaped and took refuge with turnus, who protects him with arms. the etruscans demand that he shall be given up to deserved punishment, and would ere now have attempted to enforce their demand; but their priests restrain them, telling them that it is the will of heaven that no native of the land shall guide them to victory, and that thsir destined leader must come from across the sea. they have offered the crown to me, but i am too old to undertake such great affairs, and my son is native-born, which precludes him from the choice. you, equally by birth and time of life, and fame in arms, pointed out by the gods, have but to appear to be hailed at once as their leader. with you i will join pallas, my son, my only hope and comfort. under you he shall learn the art of war, and strive to emulate your great exploits." then the king ordered horses to be furnished for the trojan chiefs, and aeneas, with a chosen band of followers and pallas accompanying, mounted and took the way to the etruscan city, [footnote: the poet here inserts a famous line which is thought to imitate in its sound the galloping of horses. it may be thus translated--"then struck the hoofs of the steeds on the ground with a four-footed trampling."--see proverbial expressions.] having sent back the rest of his party in the ships. aeneas and his band safely arrived at the etruscan camp and were received with open arms by tarchon and his countrymen. nisus and euryalus in the meanwhile turnus had collected his bands and made all necessary preparations for the war. juno sent iris to him with a message inciting him to take advantage of the absence of aeneas and surprise the trojan camp. accordingly the attempt was made, but the trojans were found on their guard, and having received strict orders from aeneas not to fight in his absence, they lay still in their intrenchments, and resisted all the efforts of the rutulians to draw them into the field. night coming on, the army of turnus, in high spirits at their fancied superiority, feasted and enjoyed themselves, and finally stretched themselves on the field and slept secure. in the camp of the trojans things were far otherwise. there all was watchfulness and anxiety and impatience for aeneas's return. nisus stood guard at the entrance of the camp, and euryalus, a youth distinguished above all in the army for graces of person and fine qualities, was with him. these two were friends and brothers in arms. nisus said to his friend, "do you perceive what confidence and carelessness the enemy display? their lights are few and dim, and the men seem all oppressed with wine or sleep. you know how anxiously our chiefs wish to send to aeneas, and to get intelligence from him. now, i am strongly moved to make my way through the enemy's camp and to go in search of our chief. if i succeed, the glory of the deed will be reward enough for me, and if they judge the service deserves anything more, let them pay it to you." euryalus, all on fire with the love of adventure, replied, "would you, then, nisus, refuse to share your enterprise with me? and shall i let you go into such danger alone? not so my brave father brought me up, nor so have i planned for myself when i joined the standard of aeneas, and resolved to hold my life cheap in comparison with honor." nisus replied, "i doubt it not, my friend; but you know the uncertain event of such an undertaking, and whatever may happen to me, i wish you to be safe. you are younger than i and have more of life in prospect. nor can i be the cause of such grief to your mother, who has chosen to be here in the camp with you rather than stay and live in peace with the other matrons in acestes' city." euryalus replied, "say no more. in vain you seek arguments to dissuade me. i am fixed in the resolution to go with you. let us lose no time." they called the guard, and committing the watch to them, sought the general's tent. they found the chief officers in consultation, deliberating how they should send notice to aeneas of their situation. the offer of the two friends was gladly accepted, themselves loaded with praises and promised the most liberal rewards in case of success. iulus especially addressed euryalus, assuring him of his lasting friendship. euryalus replied, "i have but one boon to ask. my aged mother is with me in the camp. for me she left the trojan soil, and would not stay behind with the other matrons at the city of acestes. i go now without taking leave of her. i could not bear her tears nor set at nought her entreaties. but do thou, i beseech you, comfort her in her distress. promise me that and i shall go more boldly into whatever dangers may present themselves." iulus and the other chiefs were moved to tears, and promised to do all his request. "your mother shall be mine," said iulus, "and all that i have promised to you shall be made good to her, if you do not return to receive it." the two friends left the camp and plunged at once into the midst of the enemy. they found no watch, no sentinels posted, but, all about, the sleeping soldiers strewn on the grass and among the wagons. the laws of war at that early day did not forbid a brave man to slay a sleeping foe, and the two trojans slew, as they passed, such of the enemy as they could without exciting alarm. in one tent euryalus made prize of a helmet brilliant with gold and plumes. they had passed through the enemy's ranks without being discovered, but now suddenly appeared a troop directly in front of them, which, under volscens, their leader, were approaching the camp. the glittering helmet of euryalus caught their attention, and volscens hailed the two, and demanded who and whence they were. they made no answer, but plunged into the wood. the horsemen scattered in all directions to intercept their flight. nisus had eluded pursuit and was out of danger, but euryalus being missing he turned back to seek him. he again entered the wood and soon came within sound of voices. looking through the thicket he saw the whole band surrounding euryalus with noisy questions. what should he do? how extricate the youth, or would it be better to die with him. raising his eyes to the moon, which now shone clear, he said, "goddess! favor my effort!" and aiming his javelin at one of the leaders of the troop, struck him in the back and stretched him on the plain with a death-blow. in the midst of their amazement another weapon flew and another of the party fell dead. volscens, the leader, ignorant whence the darts came, rushed sword in hand upon euryalus. "you shall pay the penalty of both," he said, and would have plunged the sword into his bosom, when nisus, who from his concealment saw the peril of his friend, rushed forward exclaiming, "'twas i, 'twas i; turn your swords against me, rutulians, i did it; he only followed me as a friend." while he spoke the sword fell, and pierced the comely bosom of euryalus. his head fell over on his shoulder, like a flower cut down by the plough. nisus rushed upon volscens and plunged his sword into his body, and was himself slain on the instant by numberless blows. mezentius aeneas, with his etrurian allies, arrived on the scene of action in time to rescue his beleaguered camp; and now the two armies being nearly equal in strength, the war began in good earnest. we cannot find space for all the details, but must simply record the fate of the principal characters whom we have introduced to our readers. the tyrant mezentius, finding himself engaged against his revolting subjects, raged like a wild beast. he slew all who dared to withstand him, and put the multitude to flight wherever he appeared. at last he encountered aeneas, and the armies stood still to see the issue. mezentius threw his spear, which striking aeneas's shield glanced off and hit anthor. he was a grecian by birth, who had left argos, his native city, and followed evander into italy. the poet says of him with simple pathos which has made the words proverbial, "he fell, unhappy, by a wound intended for another, looked up at the skies, and dying remembered sweet argos." [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] aeneas now in turn hurled his lance. it pierced the shield of mezentius, and wounded him in the thigh. lausus, his son, could not bear the sight, but rushed forward and interposed himself, while the followers pressed round mezentius and bore him away. aeneas held his sword suspended over lausus and delayed to strike, but the furious youth pressed on and he was compelled to deal the fatal blow. lausus fell, and aeneas bent over him in pity. "hapless youth," he said, "what can i do for you worthy of your praise? keep those arms in which you glory, and fear not but that your body shall be restored to your friends, and have due funeral honors." so saying, he called the timid followers and delivered the body into their hands. mezentius meanwhile had been borne to the riverside, and washed his wound. soon the news reached him of lausus's death, and rage and despair supplied the place of strength. he mounted his horse and dashed into the thickest of the fight, seeking aeneas. having found him, [footnote: see proverbial expressions.] he rode round him in a circle, throwing one javelin after another, while aeneas stood fenced with his shield, turning every way to meet them. at last, after mezentius had three times made the circuit, aeneas threw his lance directly at the horse's head. it pierced his temples and he fell, while a shout from both armies rent the skies. mezentius asked no mercy, but only that his body might be spared the insults of his revolted subjects, and be buried in the same grave with his son. he received the fatal stroke not unprepared, and poured out his life and his blood together. pallas, camilla, turnus while these things were doing in one part of the field, in another turnus encountered the youthful pallas. the contest between champions so unequally matched could not be doubtful. pallas bore himself bravely, but fell by the lance of turnus. the victor almost relented when he saw the brave youth lying dead at his feet, and spared to use the privilege of a conqueror in despoiling him of his arms. the belt only, adorned with studs and carvings of gold, he took and clasped round his own body. the rest he remitted to the friends of the slain. after the battle there was a cessation of arms for some days to allow both armies to bury their dead. in this interval aeneas challenged turnus to decide the contest by single combat, but turnus evaded the challenge. another battle ensued, in which camilla, the virgin warrior, was chiefly conspicuous. her deeds of valor surpassed those of the bravest warriors, and many trojans and etruscans fell pierced with her darts or struck down by her battle-axe. at last an etruscan named aruns, who had watched her long, seeking for some advantage, observed her pursuing a flying enemy whose splendid armor offered a tempting prize. intent on the chase she observed not her danger, and the javelin of aruns struck her and inflicted a fatal wound. she fell and breathed her last in the arms of her attendant maidens. but diana, who beheld her fate, suffered not her slaughter to be unavenged. aruns, as he stole away, glad, but frightened, was struck by a secret arrow, launched by one of the nymphs of diana's train, and died ignobly and unknown. at length the final conflict took place between aeneas and turnus. turnus had avoided the contest as long as he could, but at last, impelled by the ill success of his arms and by the murmurs of his followers, he braced himself to the conflict. it could not be doubtful. on the side of aeneas were the expressed decree of destiny, the aid of his goddess-mother at every emergency, and impenetrable armor fabricated by vulcan, at her request, for her son. turnus, on the other hand, was deserted by his celestial allies, juno having been expressly forbidden by jupiter to assist him any longer. turnus threw his lance, but it recoiled harmless from the shield of aeneas. the trojan hero then threw his, which penetrated the shield of turnus, and pierced his thigh. then turnus's fortitude forsook him and he begged for mercy; and aeneas would have given him his life, but at the instant his eye fell on the belt of pallas, which turnus had taken from the slaughtered youth. instantly his rage revived, and exclaiming, "pallas immolates thee with this blow," he thrust him through with his sword. here the poem of the "aeneid" closes, and we are left to infer that aeneas, having triumphed over his foes, obtained lavinia for his bride. tradition adds that he founded his city, and called it after her name, lavinium. his son iulus founded alba longa, which was the birthplace of romulus and remus and the cradle of rome itself. there is an allusion to camilla in those well-known lines of pope, in which, illustrating the rule that "the sound should be an echo to the sense," he says: "when ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, the line too labors and the words move slow. not so when swift camilla scours the plain, flies o'er th' unbending corn or skims along the main." --essay on criticism. chapter xxxiv pythagoras--egyptian deities--oracles pythagoras the teachings of anchises to aeneas, respecting the nature of the human soul, were in conformity with the doctrines of the pythagoreans. pythagoras (born five hundred and forty years b.c.) was a native of the island of samos, but passed the chief portion of his life at crotona in italy. he is therefore sometimes called "the samian," and sometimes "the philosopher of crotona." when young he travelled extensively, and it is said visited egypt, where he was instructed by the priests in all their learning, and afterwards journeyed to the east, and visited the persian and chaldean magi, and the brahmins of india. at crotona, where he finally established himself, his extraordinary qualities collected round him a great number of disciples. the inhabitants were notorious for luxury and licentiousness, but the good effects of his influence were soon visible. sobriety and temperance succeeded. six hundred of the inhabitants became his disciples and enrolled themselves in a society to aid each other in the pursuit of wisdom, uniting their property in one common stock for the benefit of the whole. they were required to practise the greatest purity and simplicity of manners. the first lesson they learned was silence; for a time they were required to be only hearers. "he [pythagoras] said so" (ipse dixit), was to be held by them as sufficient, without any proof. it was only the advanced pupils, after years of patient submission, who were allowed to ask questions and to state objections. pythagoras considered numbers as the essence and principle of all things, and attributed to them a real and distinct existence; so that, in his view, they were the elements out of which the universe was constructed. how he conceived this process has never been satisfactorily explained. he traced the various forms and phenomena of the world to numbers as their basis and essence. the "monad" or unit he regarded as the source of all numbers. the number two was imperfect, and the cause of increase and division. three was called the number of the whole because it had a beginning, middle, and end. four, representing the square, is in the highest degree perfect; and ten, as it contains the sum of the four prime numbers, comprehends all musical and arithmetical proportions, and denotes the system of the world. as the numbers proceed from the monad, so he regarded the pure and simple essence of the deity as the source of all the forms of nature. gods, demons, and heroes are emanations of the supreme, and there is a fourth emanation, the human soul. this is immortal, and when freed from the fetters of the body passes to the habitation of the dead, where it remains till it returns to the world, to dwell in some other human or animal body, and at last, when sufficiently purified, it returns to the source from which it proceeded. this doctrine of the transmigration of souls (metempsychosis), which was originally egyptian and connected with the doctrine of reward and punishment of human actions, was the chief cause why the pythagoreans killed no animals. ovid represents pythagoras addressing his disciples in these words: "souls never die, but always on quitting one abode pass to another. i myself can remember that in the time of the trojan war i was euphorbus, the son of panthus, and fell by the spear of menelaus. lately being in the temple of juno, at argos, i recognized my shield hung up there among the trophies. all things change, nothing perishes. the soul passes hither and thither, occupying now this body, now that, passing from the body of a beast into that of a man, and thence to a beast's again. as wax is stamped with certain figures, then melted, then stamped anew with others, yet is always the same wax, so the soul, being always the same, yet wears, at different times, different forms. therefore, if the love of kindred is not extinct in your bosoms, forbear, i entreat you, to violate the life of those who may haply be your own relatives." shakspeare, in the "merchant of venice," makes gratiano allude to the metempsychosis, where he says to shylock: "thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith, to hold opinion with pythagoras, that souls of animals infuse themselves into the trunks of men; thy currish spirit governed a wolf; who hanged for human slaughter infused his soul in thee; for thy desires are wolfish, bloody, starved and ravenous." the relation of the notes of the musical scale to numbers, whereby harmony results from vibrations in equal times, and discord from the reverse, led pythagoras to apply the word "harmony" to the visible creation, meaning by it the just adaptation of parts to each other. this is the idea which dryden expresses in the beginning of his "song for st. cecilia's day": "from harmony, from heavenly harmony this everlasting frame began; from harmony to harmony through all the compass of the notes it ran, the diapason closing full in man." in the centre of the universe (he taught) there was a central fire, the principle of life. the central fire was surrounded by the earth, the moon, the sun, and the five planets. the distances of the various heavenly bodies from one another were conceived to correspond to the proportions of the musical scale. the heavenly bodies, with the gods who inhabited them, were supposed to perform a choral dance round the central fire, "not without song." it is this doctrine which shakspeare alludes to when he makes lorenzo teach astronomy to jessica in this fashion: "look, jessica, see how the floor of heaven is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold! there's not the smallest orb that thou behold'st but in his motion like an angel sings, still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim; such harmony is in immortal souls! but whilst this muddy vesture of decay doth grossly close it in we cannot hear it." --merchant of venice. the spheres were conceived to be crystalline or glassy fabrics arranged over one another like a nest of bowls reversed. in the substance of each sphere one or more of the heavenly bodies was supposed to be fixed, so as to move with it. as the spheres are transparent we look through them and see the heavenly bodies which they contain and carry round with them. but as these spheres cannot move on one another without friction, a sound is thereby produced which is of exquisite harmony, too fine for mortal ears to recognize. milton, in his "hymn on the nativity," thus alludes to the music of the spheres: "ring out, ye crystal spheres! once bless our human ears (if ye have power to charm our senses so); and let your silver chime move in melodious time, and let the base of heaven's deep organ blow; and with your ninefold harmony make up full concert with the angelic symphony." pythagoras is said to have invented the lyre. our own poet longfellow, in "verses to a child," thus relates the story: "as great pythagoras of yore, standing beside the blacksmith's door, and hearing the hammers as they smote the anvils with a different note, stole from the varying tones that hung vibrant on every iron tongue, the secret of the sounding wire, and formed the seven-chorded lyre." see also the same poet's "occupation of orion"-- "the samian's great aeolian lyre." sybaris and crotona sybaris, a neighboring city to crotona, was as celebrated for luxury and effeminacy as crotona for the reverse. the name has become proverbial. j. r. lowell uses it in this sense in his charming little poem "to the dandelion": "not in mid june the golden cuirassed bee feels a more summer-like, warm ravishment in the white lily's breezy tent (his conquered sybaris) than i when first from the dark green thy yellow circles burst." a war arose between the two cities, and sybaris was conquered and destroyed. milo, the celebrated athlete, led the army of crotona. many stories are told of milo's vast strength, such as his carrying a heifer of four years old upon his shoulders and afterwards eating the whole of it in a single day. the mode of his death is thus related: as he was passing through a forest he saw the trunk of a tree which had been partially split open by wood- cutters, and attempted to rend it further; but the wood closed upon his hands and held him fast, in which state he was attacked and devoured by wolves. byron, in his "ode to napoleon bonaparte," alludes to the story of milo: "he who of old would rend the oak deemed not of the rebound; chained by the trunk he vainly broke, alone, how looked he round!" egyptian deities the egyptians acknowledged as the highest deity amun, afterwards called zeus, or jupiter ammon. amun manifested himself in his word or will, which created kneph and athor, of different sexes. from kneph and athor proceeded osiris and isis. osiris was worshipped as the god of the sun, the source of warmth, life, and fruitfulness, in addition to which he was also regarded as the god of the nile, who annually visited his wife, isis (the earth), by means of an inundation. serapis or hermes is sometimes represented as identical with osiris, and sometimes as a distinct divinity, the ruler of tartarus and god of medicine. anubis is the guardian god, represented with a dog's head, emblematic of his character of fidelity and watchfulness. horus or harpocrates was the son of osiris. he is represented seated on a lotus flower, with his finger on his lips, as the god of silence. in one of moore's "irish melodies" is an allusion to harpocrates: "thyself shall, under some rosy bower, sit mute, with thy finger on thy lip; like him, the boy, who born among the flowers that on the nile-stream blush, sits ever thus,--his only song to earth and heaven, 'hush all, hush!'" myth of osiris and isis osiris and isis were at one time induced to descend to the earth to bestow gifts and blessings on its inhabitants. isis showed them first the use of wheat and barley, and osiris made the instruments of agriculture and taught men the use of them, as well as how to harness the ox to the plough. he then gave men laws, the institution of marriage, a civil organization, and taught them how to worship the gods. after he had thus made the valley of the nile a happy country, he assembled a host with which he went to bestow his blessings upon the rest of the world. he conquered the nations everywhere, but not with weapons, only with music and eloquence. his brother typhon saw this, and filled with envy and malice sought during his absence to usurp his throne. but isis, who held the reins of government, frustrated his plans. still more embittered, he now resolved to kill his brother. this he did in the following manner: having organized a conspiracy of seventy-two members, he went with them to the feast which was celebrated in honor of the king's return. he then caused a box or chest to be brought in, which had been made to fit exactly the size of osiris, and declared that he wouldd would give that chest of precious wood to whosoever could get into it. the rest tried in vain, but no sooner was osiris in it than typhon and his companions closed the lid and flung the chest into the nile. when isis heard of the cruel murder she wept and mourned, and then with her hair shorn, clothed in black and beating her breast, she sought diligently for the body of her husband. in this search she was materially assisted by anubis, the son of osiris and nephthys. they sought in vain for some time; for when the chest, carried by the waves to the shores of byblos, had become entangled in the reeds that grew at the edge of the water, the divine power that dwelt in the body of osiris imparted such strength to the shrub that it grew into a mighty tree, enclosing in its trunk the coffin of the god. this tree with its sacred deposit was shortly after felled, and erected as a column in the palace of the king of phoenicia. but at length by the aid of anubis and the sacred birds, isis ascertained these facts, and then went to the royal city. there she offered herself at the palace as a servant, and being admitted, threw off her disguise and appeared as a goddess, surrounded with thunder and lightning. striking the column with her wand she caused it to split open and give up the sacred coffin. this she seized and returned with it, and concealed it in the depth of a forest, but typhon discovered it, and cutting the body into fourteen pieces scattered them hither and thither. after a tedious search, isis found thirteen pieces, the fishes of the nile having eaten the other. this she replaced by an imitation of sycamore wood, and buried the body at philae, which became ever after the great burying place of the nation, and the spot to which pilgrimages were made from all parts of the country. a temple of surpassing magnificence was also erected there in honor of the god, and at every place where one of his limbs had been found minor temples and tombs were built to commemorate the event. osiris became after that the tutelar deity of the egyptians. his soul was supposed always to inhabit the body of the bull apis, and at his death to transfer itself to his successor. apis, the bull of memphis, was worshipped with the greatest reverence by the egyptians. the individual animal who was held to be apis was recognized by certain signs. it was requisite that he should be quite black, have a white square mark on the forehead, another, in the form of an eagle, on his back, and under his tongue a lump somewhat in the shape of a scarabaeus or beetle. as soon as a bull thus marked was found by those sent in search of him, he was placed in a building facing the east, and was fed with milk for four months. at the expiration of this term the priests repaired at new moon, with great pomp, to his habitation and saluted him apis. he was placed in a vessel magnificently decorated and conveyed down the nile to memphis, where a temple, with two chapels and a court for exercise, was assigned to him. sacrifices were made to him, and once every year, about the time when the nile began to rise, a golden cup was thrown into the river, and a grand festival was held to celebrate his birthday. the people believed that during this festival the crocodiles forgot their natural ferocity and became harmless. there was, however, one drawback to his happy lot: he was not permitted to live beyond a certain period, and if, when he had attained the age of twenty-five years, he still survived, the priests drowned him in the sacred cistern and then buried him in the temple of serapis. on the death of this bull, whether it occurred in the course of nature or by violence, the whole land was filled with sorrow and lamentations, which lasted until his successor was found. we find the following item in one of the newspapers of the day: "the tomb of apis.--the excavations going on at memphis bid fair to make that buried city as interesting as pompeii. the monster tomb of apis is now open, after having lain unknown for centuries." milton, in his "hymn on the nativity," alludes to the egyptian deities, not as imaginary beings, but as real demons, put to flight by the coming of christ. "the brutish god of nile as fast, isis and horus and the dog anubis haste. nor is osiris seen in memphian grove or green trampling the unshowered grass with lowings loud; nor can he be at rest within his sacred chest; nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud. in vain with timbrel'd anthems dark the sable-stole sorcerers bear his worshipped ark." [footnote: there being no rain in egypt, the grass is "unshowered," and the country depend for its fertility upon the overflowings of the nile. the ark alluded to in the last line is shown by pictures still remaining on the walls of the egyptian temples to have been borne by the priests in their religious processions. it probably represented the chest in which osiris was placed.] isis was represented in statuary with the head veiled, a symbol of mystery. it is this which tennyson alludes to in "maud," iv., : "for the drift of the maker is dark, an isis hid by the veil," etc. oracles oracle was the name used to denote the place where answers were supposed to be given by any of the divinities to those who consulted them respecting the future. the word was also used to signify the response which was given. the most ancient grecian oracle was that of jupiter at dodona. according to one account, it was established in the following manner: two black doves took their flight from thebes in egypt. one flew to dodona in epirus, and alighting in a grove of oaks, it proclaimed in human language to the inhabitants of the district that they must establish there an oracle of jupiter. the other dove flew to the temple of jupiter ammon in the libyan oasis, and delivered a similar command there. another account is, that they were not doves, but priestesses, who were carried off from thebes in egypt by the phoenicians, and set up oracles at the oasis and dodona. the responses of the oracle were given from the trees, by the branches rustling in the wind, the sounds being interpreted by the priests. but the most celebrated of the grecian oracles was that of apollo at delphi, a city built on the slopes of parnassus in phocis. it had been observed at a very early period that the goats feeding on parnassus were thrown into convulsions when they approached a certain long deep cleft in the side of the mountain. this was owing to a peculiar vapor arising out of the cavern, and one of the goatherds was induced to try its effects upon himself. inhaling the intoxicating air, he was affected in the same manner as the cattle had been, and the inhabitants of the surrounding country, unable to explain the circumstance, imputed the convulsive ravings to which he gave utterance while under the power of the exhalations to a divine inspiration. the fact was speedily circulated widely, and a temple was erected on the spot. the prophetic influence was at first variously attributed to the goddess earth, to neptune, themis, and others, but it was at length assigned to apollo, and to him alone. a priestess was appointed whose office it was to inhale the hallowed air, and who was named the pythia. she was prepared for this duty by previous ablution at the fountain of castalia, and being crowned with laurel was seated upon a tripod similarly adorned, which was placed over the chasm whence the divine afflatus proceeded. her inspired words while thus situated were interpreted by the priests. oracle of trophonius besides the oracles of jupiter and apollo, at dodona and delphi, that of trophonius in boeotia was held in high estimation. trophonius and agamedes were brothers. they were distinguished architects, and built the temple of apollo at delphi, and a treasury for king hyrieus. in the wall of the treasury they placed a stone, in such a manner that it could be taken out; and by this means, from time to time, purloined the treasure. this amazed hyrieus, for his locks and seals were untouched, and yet his wealth continually diminished. at length he set a trap for the thief and agamedes was caught. trophonias, unable to extricate him, and fearing that when found he would be compelled by torture to discover his accomplice, cut off his head. trophonius himself is said to have been shortly afterwards swallowed up by the earth. the oracle of trophonius was at lebadea in boeotia. during a great drought the boeotians, it is said, were directed by the god at delphi to seek aid of trophonius at lebadea. they came thither, but could find no oracle. one of them, however, happening to see a swarm of bees, followed them to a chasm in the earth, which proved to be the place sought. peculiar ceremonies were to be performed by the person who came to consult the oracle. after these preliminaries, he descended into the cave by a narrow passage. this place could be entered only in the night. the person returned from the cave by the same narrow passage, but walking backwards. he appeared melancholy and defected; and hence the proverb which was applied to a person low- spirited and gloomy, "he has been consulting the oracle of trophonius." oracle of aesculapius there were numerous oracles of aesculapius, but the most celebrated one was at epidaurus. here the sick sought responses and the recovery of their health by sleeping in the temple. it has been inferred from the accounts that have come down to us that the treatment of the sick resembled what is now called animal magnetism or mesmerism. serpents 'were sacred to aesculapius, probably because of a superstition that those animals have a faculty of renewing their youth by a change of skin. the worship of aesculapius was introduced into rome in a time of great sickness, and an embassy sent to the temple of epidaurus to entreat the aid of the god. aesculapius was propitious, and on the return of the ship accompanied it in the form of a serpent. arriving in the river tiber, the serpent glided from the vessel and took possession of an island in the river, and a temple was there erected to his honor. oracle of apis at memphis the sacred bull apis gave answer to those who consulted him by the manner in which he received or rejected what was presented to him. if the bull refused food from the hand of the inquirer it was considered an unfavorable sign, and the contrary when he received it. it has been a question whether oracular responses ought to be ascribed to mere human contrivance or to the agency of evil spirits. the latter opinion has been most general in past ages. a third theory has been advanced since the phenomena of mesmerism have attracted attention, that something like the mesmeric trance was induced in the pythoness, and the faculty of clairvoyance really called into action. another question is as to the time when the pagan oracles ceased to give responses. ancient christian writers assert that they became silent at the birth of christ, and were heard no more after that date. milton adopts this view in his "hymn of the nativity," and in lines of solemn and elevated beauty pictures the consternation of the heathen idols at the advent of the saviour: "the oracles are dumb; no voice or hideous hum rings through the arched roof in words deceiving. apollo from his shrine can no more divine, with hollow shriek the steep of delphos heaving. no nightly trance or breathed spell inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell" in cowper's poem of "yardley oak" there are some beautiful mythological allusions. the former of the two following is to the fable of castor and pollux; the latter is more appropriate to our present subject. addressing the acorn he says: "thou fell'st mature; and in the loamy clod, swelling with vegetative force instinct, didst burst thine, as theirs the fabled twins now stars; twor lobes protruding, paired exact; a leaf succeede and another leaf, and, all the elements thy puny growth fostering propitious, thou becam'st a twig. who lived when thou wast such? of couldst thou speak, as in dodona once thy kindred trees oracular, i would not curious ask the future, best unknown, but at thy mouth inquisitive, the less ambiguous past." tennyson, in his "talking oak," alludes to the oaks of dodona in these lines: and i will work in prose and rhyme, and praise thee more in both than bard has honored beech or lime, or that thessalian growth in which the swarthy ring-dove sat and mystic sentence spoke; etc. byron alludes to the oracle of delphi where, speaking of rousseau, whose writings he conceives did much to bring on the french revolution, he says: "for the, he was inspired, and from him came, as from the pythian's mystic cave of yore, those oracles which set the world in flame, nor ceased to burn till kingdoms were no more." chapter xxxv origin of mythology--statues of gods and goddesses--poets of mythology origins of mythology having reached the close of our series of stories of pagan mythology, and inquiry suggests itself. "whence came these stories? have they a foundation in truth or are they simply dreams of the imagination?" philosophers have suggested various theories on the subject; and . the scriptural theory; according to which all mythological legends are derived from the narratives of scripture, though the real facts have been disguised and altered. thus deucalion is only another name for noah, hercules for samson, arion for jonah, etc. sir walter raleigh, in his "history of the world," says, "jubal, tubal, and tubal-cain were mercury, vulcan, and apollo, inventors of pasturage, smithing, and music. the dragon which kept the golden apples was the serpent that beguiled eve. nimrod's tower was the attempt of the giants against heaven." there are doubtless many curious coincidences like these, but the theory cannot without extravagance be pushed so far as to account for any great proportion of the stories. . the historical theory; according to which all the persons mentioned in mythology were once real human beings, and the legends and fabulous traditions relating to them are merely the additions and embellishments of later times. thus the story of aeolus, the king and god of the winds, is supposed to have risen from the fact that aeolus was the ruler of some islands in the tyrrhenian sea, where he reigned as a just and pious king, and taught the natives the use of sails for ships, and how to tell from the signs of the atmosphere the changes of the weather and the winds. cadmus, who, the legend says, sowed the earth with dragon's teeth, from which sprang a crop of armed men, was in fact an emigrant from phoenicia, and brought with him into greece the knowledge of the letters of the alphabet, which he taught to the natives. from these rudiments of learning sprung civilization, which the poets have always been prone to describe as a deterioration of man's first estate, the golden age of innocence and simplicity. . the allegorical theory supposes that all the myths of the ancients were allegorical and symbolical, and contained some moral, religious, or philosophical truth or historical fact, under the form of an allegory, but came in process of time to be understood literally. thus saturn, who devours his own children, is the same power whom the greeks called cronos (time), which may truly be said to destroy whatever it has brought into existence. the story of io is interpreted in a similar manner. io is the moon, and argus the starry sky, which, as it were, keeps sleepless watch over her. the fabulous wanderings of io represent the continual revolutions of the moon, which also suggested to milton the same idea. "to behold the wandering moon riding near her highest noon, like one that had been led astray in the heaven's wide, pathless way." --il penseroso. . the physical theory; according to which the elements of air, fire, and water were originally the objects of religious adoration, and the principal deities were personifications of the powers of nature. the transition was easy from a personification of the elements to the notion of supernatural beings presiding over and governing the different objects of nature. the greeks, whose imagination was lively, peopled all nature with invisible beings, and supposed that every object, from the sun and sea to the smallest fountain and rivulet, was under the care of some particular divinity. wordsworth, in his "excursion," has beautifully developed this view of grecian mythology: "in that fair clime the lonely herdsman, stretched on the soft grass through half a summer's day, with music lulled his indolent repose; and, in some fit of weariness, if he, when his own breath was silent, chanced to hear a distant strain far sweeter than the sounds which his poor skill could make, his fancy fetched even from the blazing chariot of the sun a beardless youth who touched a golden lute, and filled the illumined groves with ravishment. the mighty hunter, lifting up his eyes toward the crescent moon, with grateful heart called on the lovely wanderer who bestowed that timely light to share his joyous sport; and hence a beaming goddess with her nymphs across the lawn and through the darksome grove (not unaccompanied with tuneful notes by echo multiplied from rock or cave) swept in the storm of chase, as moon and stars glance rapidly along the clouded heaven when winds are blowing strong. the traveller slaked his thirst from rill or gushing fount, and thanked the naiad. sunbeams upon distant hills gliding apace with shadows in their train, might with small help from fancy, be transformed into fleet oreads sporting visibly. the zephyrs, fanning, as they passed, their wings, lacked not for love fair objects whom they wooed with gentle whisper. withered boughs grotesque, stripped of their leaves and twigs by hoary age, from depth of shaggy covert peeping forth in the low vale, or on steep mountain side; and sometimes intermixed with stirring horns of the live deer, or goat's depending beard; these were the lurking satyrs, wild brood of gamesome deities; or pan himself, that simple shepherd's awe-inspiring god." all the theories which have been mentioned are true to a certain extent. it would therefore be more correct to say that the mythology of a nation has sprung from all these sources combined than from any one in particular. we may add also that there are many myths which have arisen from the desire of man to account for those natural phenomena which he cannot understand; and not a few have had their rise from a similar desire of giving a reason for the names of places and persons. statues of the gods to adequately represent to the eye the ideas intended to be conveyed to the mind under the several names of deities was a task which called into exercise the highest powers of genius and art. of the many attempts four have been most celebrated, the first two known to us only by the descriptions of the ancients, the others still extant and the acknowledged masterpieces of the sculptor's art. the olympian jupiter the statue of the olympian jupiter by phidias was considered the highest achievement of this department of grecian art. it was of colossal dimensions, and was what the ancients called "chryselephantine;" that is, composed of ivory and gold; the parts representing flesh being of ivory laid on a core of wood or stone, while the drapery and other ornaments were of gold. the height of the figure was forty feet, on a pedestal twelve feet high. the god was represented seated on his throne. his brows were crowned with a wreath of olive, and he held in his right hand a sceptre, and in his left a statue of victory. the throne was of cedar, adorned with gold and precious stones. the idea which the artist essayed to embody was that of the supreme deity of the hellenic (grecian) nation, enthroned as a conqueror, in perfect majesty and repose, and ruling with a nod the subject world. phidias avowed that he took his idea from the representation which homer gives in the first book of the "iliad," in the passage thus translated by pope: "he spoke and awful bends his sable brows, shakes his ambrosial curls and gives the nod, the stamp of fate and sanction of the god. high heaven with reverence the dread signal took, and all olympus to the centre shook." [footnote: cowper's version is less elegant, but truer to the original: "he ceased, and under his dark brows the nod vouchsafed of confirmation. all around the sovereign's everlasting head his curls ambrosial shook, and the huge mountain reeled." it may interest our readers to see how this passage appears in another famous version, that which was issued under the name of tickell, contemporaneously with pope's, and which, being by many attributed to addison, led to the quarrel which ensued between addison and pope: "this said, his kingly brow the sire inclined; the large black curls fell awful from behind, thick shadowing the stern forehead of the god; olympus trembled at the almighty nod."] the minerva of the parthenon this was also the work of phidias. it stood in the parthenon, or temple of minerva at athens. the goddess was represented standing. in one hand she held a spear, in the other a statue of victory. her helmet, highly decorated, was surmounted by a sphinx. the statue was forty feet in height, and, like the jupiter, composed of ivory and gold. the eyes were of marble, and probably painted to represent the iris and pupil. the parthenon, in which this statue stood, was also constructed under the direction and superintendence of phidias. its exterior was enriched with sculptures, many of them from the hand of phidias. the elgin marbles, now in the british museum, are a part of them. both the jupiter and minerva of phidias are lost, but there is good ground to believe that we have, in several extant statues and busts, the artist's conceptions of the countenances of both. they are characterized by grave and dignified beauty, and freedom from any transient expression, which in the language of art is called repose. the venus de' medici the venus of the medici is so called from its having been in the possession of the princes of that name in rome when it first attracted attention, about two hundred years ago. an inscription on the base records it to be the work of cleomenes, an athenian sculptor of b.c., but the authenticity of the inscription is doubtful. there is a story that the artist was employed by public authority to make a statue exhibiting the perfection of female beauty, and to aid him in his task the most perfect forms the city could supply were furnished him for models. it is this which thomson alludes to in his "summer": "so stands the statue that enchants the world; so bending tries to veil the matchless boast, the mingled beauties of exulting greece." byron also alludes to this statue. speaking of the florence museum, he says: "there, too, the goddess loves in stone, and fills the air around with beauty;" etc. and in the next stanza, "blood, pulse, and breast confirm the dardan shepherd's prize." see this last allusion explained in chapter xxvii. the apollo belvedere the most highly esteemed of all the remains of ancient sculpture is the statue of apollo, called the belvedere, from the name of the apartment of the pope's palace at rome in which it was placed. the artist is unknown. it is supposed to be a work of roman art, of about the first century of our era. it is a standing figure, in marble, more than seven feet high, naked except for the cloak which is fastened around the neck and hangs over the extended left arm. it is supposed to represent the god in the moment when he has shot the arrow to destroy the monster python. (see chapter iii.) the victorious divinity is in the act of stepping forward. the left arm, which seems to have held the bow, is outstretched, and the head is turned in the same direction. in attitude and proportion the graceful majesty of the figure is unsurpassed. the effect is completed by the countenance, where on the perfection of youthful godlike beauty there dwells the consciousness of triumphant power. the diana a la biche the diana of the hind, in the palace of the louvre, may be considered the counterpart to the apollo belvedere. the attitude much resembles that of the apollo, the sizes correspond and also the style of execution. it is a work of the highest order, though by no means equal to the apollo. the attitude is that of hurried and eager motion, the face that of a huntress in the excitement of the chase. the left hand is extended over the forehead of the hind, which runs by her side, the right arm reaches backward over the shoulder to draw an arrow from the quiver. the poets of mythology homer, from whose poems of the "iliad" and "odyssey" we have taken the chief part of our chapters of the trojan war and the return of the grecians, is almost as mythical a personage as the heroes he celebrates. the traditionary story is that he was a wandering minstrel, blind and old, who travelled from place to place singing his lays to the music of his harp, in the courts of princes or the cottages of peasants, and dependent upon the voluntary offerings of his hearers for support. byron calls him "the blind old man of scio's rocky isle," and a well-known epigram, alluding to the uncertainty of the fact of his birthplace, says: "seven wealthy towns contend for homer dead, through which the living homer begged his bread." these seven were smyrna, scio, rhodes, colophon, salamis, argos, and athens. modern scholars have doubted whether the homeric poems are the work of any single mind. this arises from the difficulty of believing that poems of such length could have been committed to writing at so early an age as that usually assigned to these, an age earlier than the date of any remaining inscriptions or coins, and when no materials capable of containing such long productions were yet introduced into use. on the other hand it is asked how poems of such length could have been handed down from age to age by means of the memory alone. this is answered by the statement that there was a professional body of men, called rhapsodists, who recited the poems of others, and whose business it was to commit to memory and rehearse for pay the national and patriotic legends. the prevailing opinion of the learned, at this time, seems to be that the framework and much of the structure of the poems belong to homer, but that there are numerous interpolations and additions by other hands. the date assigned to homer, on the authority of herodotus, is b.c. virgil virgil, called also by his surname, maro, from whose poem of the "aeneid" we have taken the story of aeneas, was one of the great poets who made the reign of the roman emperor augustus so celebrated, under the name of the augustan age. virgil was born in mantua in the year b.c. his great poem is ranked next to those of homer, in the highest class of poetical composition, the epic. virgil is far inferior to homer in originality and invention, but superior to him in correctness and elegance. to critics of english lineage milton alone of modern poets seems worthy to be classed with these illustrious ancients. his poem of "paradise lost," from which we have borrowed so many illustrations, is in many respects equal, in some superior, to either of the great works of antiquity. the following epigram of dryden characterizes the three poets with as much truth as it is usual to find in such pointed criticism: "on milton "three poets in three different ages born, greece, italy, and england did adorn the first in loftiness of soul surpassed, the next in majesty, in both the last. the force of nature could no further go; to make a third she joined the other two." from cowper's "table talk": "ages elapsed ere homer's lamp appeared, and ages ere the mantuan swan was heard. to carry nature lengths unknown before, to give a milton birth, asked ages more. thus genius rose and set at ordered times, and shot a dayspring into distant climes, ennobling every region that he chose; he sunk in greece, in italy he rose, and, tedious years of gothic darkness past, emerged all splendor in our isle at last. thus lovely halcyons dive into the main, then show far off their shining plumes again." ovid ovid, often alluded to in poetry by his other name of naso, was born in the year b.c. he was educated for public life and held some offices of considerable dignity, but poetry was his delight, and he early resolved to devote himself to it. he accordingly sought the society of the contemporary poets, and was acquainted with horace and saw virgil, though the latter died when ovid was yet too young and undistinguished to have formed his acquaintance. ovid spent an easy life at rome in the enjoyment of a competent income. he was intimate with the family of augustus, the emperor, and it is supposed that some serious offence given to some member of that family was the cause of an event which reversed the poet's happy circumstances and clouded all the latter portion of his life. at the age of fifty he was banished from rome, and ordered to betake himself to tomi, on the borders of the black sea. here, among the barbarous people and in a severe climate, the poet, who had been accustomed to all the pleasures of a luxurious capital and the society of his most distinguished contemporaries, spent the last ten years of his life, worn out with grief and anxiety. his only consolation in exile was to address his wife and absent friends, and his letters were all poetical. though these poems (the "trista" and "letters from pontus") have no other topic than the poet's sorrows, his exquisite taste and fruitful invention have redeemed them from the charge of being tedious, and they are read with pleasure and even with sympathy. the two great works of ovid are his "metamorphoses" and his "fasti." they are both mythological poems, and from the former we have taken most of our stories of grecian and roman mythology. a late writer thus characterizes these poems: "the rich mythology of greece furnished ovid, as it may still furnish the poet, the painter, and the sculptor, with materials for his art. with exquisite taste, simplicity, and pathos he has narrated the fabulous traditions of early ages, and given to them that appearance of reality which only a master hand could impart. his pictures of nature are striking and true; he selects with care that which is appropriate; he rejects the superfluous; and when he has completed his work, it is neither defective nor redundant. the 'metamorphoses' are read with pleasure by youth, and are re-read in more advanced age with still greater delight. the poet ventured to predict that his poem would survive him, and be read wherever the roman name was known." the prediction above alluded to is contained in the closing lines of the "metamorphoses," of which we give a literal translation below: "and now i close my work, which not the ire of jove, nor tooth of time, nor sword, nor fire shall bring to nought. come when it will that day which o'er the body, not the mind, has sway, and snatch the remnant of my life away, my better part above the stars shall soar, and my renown endure forevermore. where'er the roman arms and arts shall spread there by the people shall my book be read; and, if aught true in poet's visions be, my name and fame have immortality." chapter xxxvi modern monsters--the phoenix--basilisk--unicorn--salamander modern monsters there is a set of imaginary beings which seem to have been the successors of the "gorgons, hydras, and chimeras dire" of the old superstitions, and, having no connection with the false gods of paganism, to have continued to enjoy an existence in the popular belief after paganism was superseded by christianity. they are mentioned perhaps by the classical writers, but their chief popularity and currency seem to have been in more modern times. we seek our accounts of them not so much in the poetry of the ancients as in the old natural history books and narrations of travellers. the accounts which we are about to give are taken chiefly from the penny cyclopedia. the phoenix ovid tells the story of the phoenix as follows: "most beings spring from other individuals; but there is a certain kind which reproduces itself. the assyrians call it the phoenix. it does not live on fruit or flowers, but on frankincense and odoriferous gums. when it has lived five hundred years, it builds itself a nest in the branches of an oak, or on the top of a palm tree. in this it collects cinnamon, and spikenard, and myrrh, and of these materials builds a pile on which it deposits itself, and dying, breathes out its last breath amidst odors. from the body of the parent bird, a young phoenix issues forth, destined to live as long a life as its predecessor. when this has grown up and gained sufficient strength, it lifts its nest from the tree (its own cradle and its parent's sepulchre), and carries it to the city of heliopolis in egypt, and deposits it in the temple of the sun." such is the account given by a poet. now let us see that of a philosophic historian. tacitus says, "in the consulship of paulus fabius (a.d. ) the miraculous bird known to the world by the name of the phoenix, after disappearing for a series of ages, revisited egypt. it was attended in its flight by a group of various birds, all attracted by the novelty, and gazing with wonder at so beautiful an appearance." he then gives an account of the bird, not varying materially from the preceding, but adding some details. "the first care of the young bird as soon as fledged, and able to trust to his wings, is to perform the obsequies of his father. but this duty is not undertaken rashly. he collects a quantity of myrrh, and to try his strength makes frequent excursions with a load on his back. when he has gained sufficient confidence in his own vigor, he takes up the body of his father and flies with it to the altar of the sun, where he leaves it to be consumed in flames of fragrance." other writers add a few particulars. the myrrh is compacted in the form of an egg, in which the dead phoenix is enclosed. from the mouldering flesh of the dead bird a worm springs, and this worm, when grown large, is transformed into a bird. herodotus describes the bird, though he says, "i have not seen it myself, except in a picture. part of his plumage is gold-colored, and part crimson; and he is for the most part very much like an eagle in outline and bulk." the first writer who disclaimed a belief in the existence of the phoenix was sir thomas browne, in his "vulgar errors," published in . he was replied to a few years later by alexander ross, who says, in answer to the objection of the phoenix so seldom making his appearance, "his instinct teaches him to keep out of the way of the tyrant of the creation, man, for if he were to be got at, some wealthy glutton would surely devour him, though there were no more in the world." dryden in one of his early poems has this allusion to the phoenix: "so when the new-born phoenix first is seen, her feathered subjects all adore their queen, and while she makes her progress through the east, from every grove her numerous train's increased; each poet of the air her glory sings, and round him the pleased audience clap their wings." milton, in "paradise lost," book v., compares the angel raphael descending to earth to a phoenix: "... down thither, prone in flight he speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing, now on the polar winds, then with quick fan winnows the buxom air; till within soar of towering eagles, to all the fowls he seems a phoenix, gazed by all; as that sole bird when, to enshrine his relics in the sun's bright temple, to egyptian thebes he flies." the cockatrice, or basilisk this animal was called the king of the serpents. in confirmation of his royalty, he was said to be endowed with a crest, or comb upon the head, constituting a crown. he was supposed to be produced from the egg of a cock hatched under toads or serpents. there were several species of this animal. one species burned up whatever they approached; a second were a kind of wandering medusa's heads, and their look caused an instant horror which was immediately followed by death. in shakspeare's play of "richard the third," lady anne, in answer to richard's compliment on her eyes, says, "would they were basilisk's, to strike thee dead!" the basilisks were called kings of serpents because all other serpents and snakes, behaving like good subjects, and wisely not wishing to be burned up or struck dead, fled the moment they heard the distant hiss of their king, although they might be in full feed upon the most delicious prey, leaving the sole enjoyment of the banquet to the royal monster. the roman naturalist pliny thus describes him: "he does not impel his body, like other serpents, by a multiplied flexion, but advances lofty and upright. he kills the shrubs, not only by contact, but by breathing on them, and splits the rocks, such power of evil is there in him." it was formerly believed that if killed by a spear from on horseback the power of the poison conducted through the weapon killed not only the rider, but the horse also. to this lucan alludes in these lines: "what though the moor the basilisk hath slain, and pinned him lifeless to the sandy plain, up through the spear the subtle venom flies, the hand imbibes it, and the victor dies." such a prodigy was not likely to be passed over in the legends of the saints. accordingly we find it recorded that a certain holy man, going to a fountain in the desert, suddenly beheld a basilisk. he immediately raised his eyes to heaven, and with a pious appeal to the deity laid the monster dead at his feet. these wonderful powers of the basilisk are attested by a host of learned persons, such as galen, avicenna, scaliger, and others. occasionally one would demur to some part of the tale while he admitted the rest. jonston, a learned physician, sagely remarks, "i would scarcely believe that it kills with its look, for who could have seen it and lived to tell the story?" the worthy sage was not aware that those who went to hunt the basilisk of this sort took with them a mirror, which reflected back the deadly glare upon its author, and by a kind of poetical justice slew the basilisk with his own weapon. but what was to attack this terrible and unapproachable monster? there is an old saying that "everything has its enemy"--and the cockatrice quailed before the weasel. the basilisk might look daggers, the weasel cared not, but advanced boldly to the conflict. when bitten, the weasel retired for a moment to eat some rue, which was the only plant the basilisks could not wither, returned with renewed strength and soundness to the charge, and never left the enemy till he was stretched dead on the plain. the monster, too, as if conscious of the irregular way in which he came into the world, was supposed to have a great antipathy to a cock; and well he might, for as soon as he heard the cock crow he expired. the basilisk was of some use after death. thus we read that its carcass was suspended in the temple of apollo, and in private houses, as a sovereign remedy against spiders, and that it was also hung up in the temple of diana, for which reason no swallow ever dared enter the sacred place. the reader will, we apprehend, by this time have had enough of absurdities, but still we can imagine his anxiety to know what a cockatrice was like. the following is from aldrovandus, a celebrated naturalist of the sixteenth century, whose work on natural history, in thirteen folio volumes, contains with much that is valuable a large proportion of fables and inutilities. in particular he is so ample on the subject of the cock and the bull that from his practice, all rambling, gossiping tales of doubtful credibility are called cock and bull stories. aldrovandus, however, deserves our respect and esteem as the founder of a botanic garden, and as a pioneer in the now prevalent custom of making scientific collections for purposes of investigation and research. shelley, in his "ode to naples," full of the enthusiasm excited by the intelligence of the proclamation of a constitutional government at naples, in , thus uses an allusion to the basilisk: "what though cimmerian anarchs dare blaspheme freedom and thee? a new actaeon's error shall theirs have been,--devoured by their own hounds! be thou like the imperial basilisk, killing thy foe with unapparent wounds! gaze on oppression, till at that dread risk, aghast she pass from the earth's disk. fear not, but gaze,--for freemen mightier grow, and slaves more feeble, gazing on their foe." the unicorn pliny, the roman naturalist, out of whose account of the unicorn most of the modern unicorns have been described and figured, records it as "a very ferocious beast, similar in the rest of its body to a horse, with the head of a deer, the feet of an elephant, the tail of a boar, a deep, bellowing voice, and a single black horn, two cubits in length, standing out in the middle of its forehead." he adds that "it cannot be taken alive;" and some such excuse may have been necessary in those days for not producing the living animal upon the arena of the amphitheatre. the unicorn seems to have been a sad puzzle to the hunters, who hardly knew how to come at so valuable a piece of game. some described the horn as movable at the will of the animal, a kind of small sword, in short, with which no hunter who was not exceedingly cunning in fence could have a chance. others maintained that all the animal's strength lay in its horn, and that when hard pressed in pursuit, it would throw itself from the pinnacle of the highest rocks horn foremost, so as to pitch upon it, and then quietly march off not a whit the worse for its fall. but it seems they found out how to circumvent the poor unicorn at last. they discovered that it was a great lover of purity and innocence, so they took the field with a young virgin, who was placed in the unsuspecting admirer's way. when the unicorn spied her, he approached with all reverence, couched beside her, and laying his head in her lap, fell asleep. the treacherous virgin then gave a signal, and the hunters made in and captured the simple beast. modern zoologists, disgusted as they well may be with such fables as these, disbelieve generally the existence of the unicorn. yet there are animals bearing on their heads a bony protuberance more or less like a horn, which may have given rise to the story. the rhinoceros horn, as it is called, is such a protuberance, though it does not exceed a few inches in height, and is far from agreeing with the descriptions of the horn of the unicorn. the nearest approach to a horn in the middle of the forehead is exhibited in the bony protuberance on the forehead of the giraffe; but this also is short and blunt, and is not the only horn of the animal, but a third horn, standing in front of the two others. in fine, though it would be presumptuous to deny the existence of a one-horned quadruped other than the rhinoceros, it may be safely stated that the insertion of a long and solid horn in the living forehead of a horse-like or deer-like animal is as near an impossibility as anything can be. the salamander the following is from the "life of benvenuto cellini," an italian artist of the sixteenth century, written by himself: "when i was about five years of age, my father, happening to be in a little room in which they had been washing, and where there was a good fire of oak burning, looked into the flames and saw a little animal resembling a lizard, which could live in the hottest part of that element. instantly perceiving what it was, he called for my sister and me, and after he had shown us the creature, he gave me a box on the ear. i fell a-crying, while he, soothing me with caresses, spoke these words: 'my dear child, i do not give you that blow for any fault you have committed, but that you may recollect that the little creature you see in the fire is a salamander; such a one as never was beheld before to my knowledge.' so saying he embraced me, and gave me some money." it seems unreasonable to doubt a story of which signor cellini was both an eye and ear witness. add to which the authority of numerous sage philosophers, at the head of whom are aristotle and pliny, affirms this power of the salamander. according to them, the animal not only resists fire, but extinguishes it, and when he sees the flame charges it as an enemy which he well knows how to vanquish. that the skin of an animal which could resist the action of fire should be considered proof against that element is not to be wondered at. we accordingly find that a cloth made of the skin of salamanders (for there really is such an animal, a kind of lizard) was incombustible, and very valuable for wrapping up such articles as were too precious to be intrusted to any other envelopes. these fire-proof cloths were actually produced, said to be made of salamander's wool, though the knowing ones detected that the substance of which they were composed was asbestos, a mineral, which is in fine filaments capable of being woven into a flexible cloth. the foundation of the above fables is supposed to be the fact that the salamander really does secrete from the pores of his body a milky juice, which when he is irritated is produced in considerable quantity, and would doubtless, for a few moments, defend the body from fire. then it is a hibernating animal, and in winter retires to some hollow tree or other cavity, where it coils itself up and remains in a torpid state till the spring again calls it forth. it may therefore sometimes be carried with the fuel to the fire, and wake up only time enough to put forth all its faculties for its defence. its viscous juice would do good service, and all who profess to have seen it, acknowledge that it got out of the fire as fast as its legs could carry it; indeed, too fast for them ever to make prize of one, except in one instance, and in that one the animal's feet and some parts of its body were badly burned. dr. young, in the "night thoughts," with more quaintness than good taste, compares the sceptic who can remain unmoved in the contemplation of the starry heavens to a salamander unwarmed in the fire: "an undevout astronomer is mad! "o, what a genius must inform the skies! and is lorenzo's salamander-heart cold and untouched amid these sacred fires?" chapter xxxvii eastern mythology--zoroaster--hindu mythology--castes--buddha-- grand lama zoroaster our knowledge of the religion of the ancient persians is principally derived from the zendavesta, or sacred books of that people. zoroaster was the founder of their religion, or rather the reformer of the religion which preceded him. the time when he lived is doubtful, but it is certain that his system became the dominant religion of western asia from the time of cyrus ( b.c.) to the conquest of persia by alexander the great. under the macedonian monarchy the doctrines of zoroaster appear to have been considerably corrupted by the introduction of foreign opinions, but they afterwards recovered their ascendency. zoroaster taught the existence of a supreme being, who created two other mighty beings and imparted to them as much of his own nature as seemed good to him. of these, ormuzd (called by the greeks oromasdes) remained faithful to his creator, and was regarded as the source of all good, while ahriman (arimanes) rebelled, and became the author of all evil upon the earth. ormuzd created man and supplied him with all the materials of happiness; but ahriman marred this happiness by introducing evil into the world, and creating savage beasts and poisonous reptiles and plants. in consequence of this, evil and good are now mingled together in every part of the world, and the followers of good and evil--the adherents of ormuzd and ahriman--carry on incessant war. but this state of things will not last forever. the time will come when the adherents of ormuzd shall everywhere be victorious, and ahriman and his followers be consigned to darkness forever. the religious rites of the ancient persians were exceedingly simple. they used neither temples, altars, nor statues, and performed their sacrifices on the tops of mountains. they adored fire, light, and the sun as emblems of ormuzd, the source of all light and purity, but did not regard them as independent deities. the religious rites and ceremonies were regulated by the priests, who were called magi. the learning of the magi was connected with astrology and enchantment, in which they were so celebrated that their name was applied to all orders of magicians and enchanters. wordsworth thus alludes to the worship of the persians: "... the persian,--zealous to reject altar and image, and the inclusive walls and roofs of temples built by human hands,-- the loftiest heights ascending, from their tops, with myrtle-wreathed tiara on his brows, presented sacrifice to moon and stars, and to the winds and mother elements, and the whole circle of the heavens, for him a sensitive existence and a god." --excursion, book iv. in "childe harold" byron speaks thus of the persian worship: "not vainly did the early persian make his altar the high places and the peak of earth-o'er-gazing mountains, and thus take a fit and unwalled temple, there to seek the spirit, in whose honor shrines are weak, upreared of human hands. come and compare columns and idol-dwellings, goth or greek, with nature's realms of worship, earth and air, nor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy prayer." iii., . the religion of zoroaster continued to flourish even after the introduction of christianity, and in the third century was the dominant faith of the east, till the rise of the mahometan power and the conquest of persia by the arabs in the seventh century, who compelled the greater number of the persians to renounce their ancient faith. those who refused to abandon the religion of their ancestors fled to the deserts of kerman and to hindustan, where they still exist under the name of parsees, a name derived from pars, the ancient name of persia. the arabs call them guebers, from an arabic word signifying unbelievers. at bombay the parsees are at this day a very active, intelligent, and wealthy class. for purity of life, honesty, and conciliatory manners, they are favorably distinguished. they have numerous temples to fire, which they adore as the symbol of the divinity. the persian religion makes the subject of the finest tale in moore's "lalla rookh," the "fire worshippers." the gueber chief says, "yes! i am of that impious race, those slaves of fire, that morn and even hail their creator's dwelling-place among the living lights of heaven; yes! i am of that outcast crew to iran and to vengeance true, who curse the hour your arabs came to desecrate our shrines of flame, and swear before god's burning eye, to break our country's chains or die." hindu mythology the religion of the hindus is professedly founded on the vedas. to these books of their scripture they attach the greatest sanctity, and state that brahma himself composed them at the creation. but the present arrangement of the vedas is attributed to the sage vyasa, about five thousand years ago. the vedas undoubtedly teach the belief of one supreme god. the name of this deity is brahma. his attributes are represented by the three personified powers of creation, preservation, and destruction, which under the respective names of brahma, vishnu, and siva form the trimurti or triad of principal hindu gods. of the inferior gods the most important are: . indra, the god of heaven, of thunder, lightning, storm, and rain; . agni, the god of fire; . yama, the god of the infernal regions; . surya, the god of the sun. brahma is the creator of the universe, and the source from which all the individual deities have sprung, and into which all will ultimately be absorbed. "as milk changes to curd, and water to ice, so is brahma variously transformed and diversified, without aid of exterior means of any sort." the human soul, according to the vedas, is a portion of the supreme ruler, as a spark is of the fire. vishnu vishnu occupies the second place in the triad of the hindus, and is the personification of the preserving principle. to protect the world in various epochs of danger, vishnu descended to the earth in different incarnations, or bodily forms, which descents are called avatars. they are very numerous, but ten are more particularly specified. the first avatar was as matsya, the fish, under which form vishnu preserved manu, the ancestor of the human race, during a universal deluge. the second avatar was in the form of a tortoise, which form he assumed to support the earth when the gods were churning the sea for the beverage of immortality, amrita. we may omit the other avatars, which were of the same general character, that is, interpositions to protect the right or to punish wrong-doers, and come to the ninth, which is the most celebrated of the avatars of vishnu, in which he appeared in the human form of krishna, an invincible warrior, who by his exploits relieved the earth from the tyrants who oppressed it. buddha is by the followers of the brahmanical religion regarded as a delusive incarnation of vishnu, assumed by him in order to induce the asuras, opponents of the gods, to abandon the sacred ordinances of the vedas, by which means they lost their strength and supremacy. kalki is the name of the tenth avatar, in which vishnu will appear at the end of the present age of the world to destroy all vice and wickedness, and to restore mankind to virtue and purity. siva siva is the third person of the hindu triad. he is the personification of the destroying principle. though the third name, he is, in respect to the number of his worshippers and the extension of his worship, before either of the others. in the puranas (the scriptures of the modern hindu religion) no allusion is made to the original power of this god as a destroyer; that power not being to be called into exercise till after the expiration of twelve millions of years, or when the universe will come to an end; and mahadeva (another name for siva) is rather the representative of regeneration than of destruction. the worshippers of vishnu and siva form two sects, each of which proclaims the superiority of its favorite deity, denying the claims of the other, and brahma, the creator, having finished his work, seems to be regarded as no longer active, and has now only one temple in india, while mahadeva and vishnu have many. the worshippers of vishnu are generally distinguished by a greater tenderness for life, and consequent abstinence from animal food, and a worship less cruel than that of the followers of siva. juggernaut whether the worshippers of juggernaut are to be reckoned among the followers of vishnu or siva, our authorities differ. the temple stands near the shore, about three hundred miles south-west of calcutta. the idol is a carved block of wood, with a hideous face, painted black, and a distended blood-red mouth. on festival days the throne of the image is placed on a tower sixty feet high, moving on wheels. six long ropes are attached to the tower, by which the people draw it along. the priests and their attendants stand round the throne on the tower, and occasionally turn to the worshippers with songs and gestures. while the tower moves along numbers of the devout worshippers throw themselves on the ground, in order to be crushed by the wheels, and the multitude shout in approbation of the act, as a pleasing sacrifice to the idol. every year, particularly at two great festivals in march and july, pilgrims flock in crowds to the temple. not less than seventy or eighty thousand people are said to visit the place on these occasions, when all castes eat together. castes the division of the hindus into classes or castes, with fixed occupations, existed from the earliest times. it is supposed by some to have been founded upon conquest, the first three castes being composed of a foreign race, who subdued the natives of the country and reduced them to an inferior caste. others trace it to the fondness of perpetuating, by descent from father to son, certain offices or occupations. the hindu tradition gives the following account of the origin of the various castes: at the creation brahma resolved to give the earth inhabitants who should be direct emanations from his own body. accordingly from his mouth came forth the eldest born, brahma (the priest), to whom he confided the four vedas; from his right arm issued shatriya (the warrior), and from his left, the warrior's wife. his thighs produced vaissyas, male and female (agriculturists and traders), and lastly from his feet sprang sudras (mechanics and laborers). the four sons of brahma, so significantly brought into the world, became the fathers of the human race, and heads of their respective castes. they were commanded to regard the four vedas as containing all the rules of their faith, and all that was necessary to guide them in their religious ceremonies. they were also commanded to take rank in the order of their birth, the brahmans uppermost, as having sprung from the head of brahma. a strong line of demarcation is drawn between the first three castes and the sudras. the former are allowed to receive instruction from the vedas, which is not permitted to the sudras. the brahmans possess the privilege of teaching the vedas, and were in former times in exclusive possession of all knowledge. though the sovereign of the country was chosen from the shatriya class, also called rajputs, the brahmans possessed the real power, and were the royal counsellors, the judges and magistrates of the country; their persons and property were inviolable; and though they committed the greatest crimes, they could only be banished from the kingdom. they were to be treated by sovereigns with the greatest respect, for "a brahman, whether learned or ignorant, is a powerful divinity." when the brahman arrives at years of maturity it becomes his duty to marry. he ought to be supported by the contributions of the rich, and not to be obliged to gain his subsistence by any laborious or productive occupation. but as all the brahmans could not be maintained by the working classes of the community, it was found necessary to allow them to engage in productive employments. we need say little of the two intermediate classes, whose rank and privileges may be readily inferred from their occupations. the sudras or fourth class are bound to servile attendance on the higher classes, especially the brahmans, but they may follow mechanical occupations and practical arts, as painting and writing, or become traders or husbandmen. consequently they sometimes grow rich, and it will also sometimes happen that brahmans become poor. that fact works its usual consequence, and rich sudras sometimes employ poor brahmans in menial occupations. there is another class lower even than the sudras, for it is not one of the original pure classes, but springs from an unauthorized union of individuals of different castes. these are the pariahs, who are employed in the lowest services and treated with the utmost severity. they are compelled to do what no one else can do without pollution. they are not only considered unclean themselves, but they render unclean everything they touch. they are deprived of all civil rights, and stigmatized by particular laws regulating their mode of life, their houses, and their furniture. they are not allowed to visit the pagodas or temples of the other castes, but have their own pagodas and religious exercises. they are not suffered to enter the houses of the other castes; if it is done incautiously or from necessity, the place must be purified by religious ceremonies. they must not appear at public markets, and are confined to the use of particular wells, which they are obliged to surround with bones of animals, to warn others against using them. they dwell in miserable hovels, distant from cities and villages, and are under no restrictions in regard to food, which last is not a privilege, but a mark of ignominy, as if they were so degraded that nothing could pollute them. the three higher castes are prohibited entirely the use of flesh. the fourth is allowed to use all kinds except beef, but only the lowest caste is allowed every kind of food without restriction. buddha buddha, whom the vedas represent as a delusive incarnation of vishnu, is said by his followers to have been a mortal sage, whose name was gautama, called also by the complimentary epithets of sakyasinha, the lion, and buddha, the sage. by a comparison of the various epochs assigned to his birth, it is inferred that he lived about one thousand years before christ. he was the son of a king; and when in conformity to the usage of the country he was, a few days after his birth, presented before the altar of a deity, the image is said to have inclined its head as a presage of the future greatness of the new-born prophet. the child soon developed faculties of the first order, and became equally distinguished by the uncommon beauty of his person. no sooner had he grown to years of maturity than he began to reflect deeply on the depravity and misery of mankind, and he conceived the idea of retiring from society and devoting himself to meditation. his father in vain opposed this design. buddha escaped the vigilance of his guards, and having found a secure retreat, lived for six years undisturbed in his devout contemplations. at the expiration of that period he came forward at benares as a religious teacher. at first some who heard him doubted of the soundness of his mind; but his doctrines soon gained credit, and were propagated so rapidly that buddha himself lived to see them spread all over india. he died at the age of eighty years. the buddhists reject entirely the authority of the vedas, and the religious observances prescribed in them and kept by the hindus. they also reject the distinction of castes, and prohibit all bloody sacrifices, and allow animal food. their priests are chosen from all classes; they are expected to procure their maintenance by perambulation and begging, and among other things it is their duty to endeavor to turn to some use things thrown aside as useless by others, and to discover the medicinal power of plants. but in ceylon three orders of priests are recognized; those of the highest order are usually men of high birth and learning, and are supported at the principal temples, most of which have been richly endowed by the former monarchs of the country. for several centuries after the appearance of buddha, his sect seems to have been tolerated by the brahmans, and buddhism appears to have penetrated the peninsula of hindustan in every direction, and to have been carried to ceylon, and to the eastern peninsula. but afterwards it had to endure in india a long-continued persecution, which ultimately had the effect of entirely abolishing it in the country where it had originated, but to scatter it widely over adjacent countries. buddhism appears to have been introduced into china about the year of our era. from china it was subsequently extended to corea, japan, and java. the grand lama it is a doctrine alike of the brahminical hindus and of the buddhist sect that the confinement of the human soul, an emanation of the divine spirit, in a human body, is a state of misery, and the consequence of frailties and sins committed during former existences. but they hold that some few individuals have appeared on this earth from time to time, not under the necessity of terrestrial existence, but who voluntarily descended to the earth to promote the welfare of mankind. these individuals have gradually assumed the character of reappearances of buddha himself, in which capacity the line is continued till the present day, in the several lamas of thibet, china, and other countries where buddhism prevails. in consequence of the victories of gengis khan and his successors, the lama residing in thibet was raised to the dignity of chief pontiff of the sect. a separate province was assigned to him as his own territory, and besides his spiritual dignity he became to a limited extent a temporal monarch. he is styled the dalai lama. the first christian missionaries who proceeded to thibet were surprised to find there in the heart of asia a pontifical court and several other ecclesiastical institutions resembling those of the roman catholic church. they found convents for priests and nuns; also processions and forms of religious worship, attended with much pomp and splendor; and many were induced by these similarities to consider lamaism as a sort of degenerated christianity. it is not improbable that the lamas derived some of these practices from the nestorian christians, who were settled in tartary when buddhism was introduced into thibet. prester john an early account, communicated probably by travelling merchants, of a lama or spiritual chief among the tartars, seems to have occasioned in europe the report of a presbyter or prester john, a christian pontiff resident in upper asia. the pope sent a mission in search of him, as did also louis ix. of france, some years later, but both missions were unsuccessful, though the small communities of nestorian christians, which they did find, served to keep up the belief in europe that such a personage did exist somewhere in the east. at last in the fifteenth century, a portuguese traveller, pedro covilham, happening to hear that there was a christian prince in the country of the abessines (abyssinia), not far from the red sea, concluded that this must be the true prester john. he accordingly went thither, and penetrated to the court of the king, whom he calls negus. milton alludes to him in "paradise lost," book xi., where, describing adam's vision of his descendants in their various nations and cities, scattered over the face of the earth, he says,-- "... nor did his eyes not ken th' empire of negus, to his utmost port, ercoco, and the less maritime kings, mombaza and quiloa and melind." chapter xxxviii northern mythology--valhalla--the valkyrior northern mythology the stories which have engaged our attention thus far relate to the mythology of southern regions. but there is another branch of ancient superstitions which ought not to be entirely overlooked, especially as it belongs to the nations from which we, through our english ancestors, derive our origin. it is that of the northern nations, called scandinavians, who inhabited the countries now known as sweden, denmark, norway, and iceland. these mythological records are contained in two collections called the eddas, of which the oldest is in poetry and dates back to the year , the more modern or prose edda being of the date of . according to the eddas there was once no heaven above nor earth beneath, but only a bottomless deep, and a world of mist in which flowed a fountain. twelve rivers issued from this fountain, and when they had flowed far from their source, they froze into ice, and one layer accumulating over another, the great deep was filled up. southward from the world of mist was the world of light. from this flowed a warm wind upon the ice and melted it. the vapors rose in the air and formed clouds, from which sprang ymir, the frost giant and his progeny, and the cow audhumbla, whose milk afforded nourishment and food to the giant. the cow got nourishment by licking the hoar frost and salt from the ice. while she was one day licking the salt stones there appeared at first the hair of a man, on the second day the whole head, and on the third the entire form endowed with beauty, agility, and power. this new being was a god, from whom and his wife, a daughter of the giant race, sprang the three brothers odin, vili, and ve. they slew the giant ymir, and out of his body formed the earth, of his blood the seas, of his bones the mountains, of his hair the trees, of his skull the heavens, and of his brain clouds, charged with hail and snow. of ymir's eyebrows the gods formed midgard (mid earth), destined to become the abode of man. odin then regulated the periods of day and night and the seasons by placing in the heavens the sun and moon and appointing to them their respective courses. as soon as the sun began to shed its rays upon the earth, it caused the vegetable world to bud and sprout. shortly after the gods had created the world they walked by the side of the sea, pleased with their new work, but found that it was still incomplete, for it was without human beings. they therefore took an ash tree and made a man out of it, and they made a woman out of an elder, and called the man aske and the woman embla. odin then gave them life and soul, vili reason and motion, and ve bestowed upon them the senses, expressive features, and speech. midgard was then given them as their residence, and they became the progenitors of the human race. the mighty ash tree ygdrasill was supposed to support the whole universe. it sprang from the body of ymir, and had three immense roots, extending one into asgard (the dwelling of the gods), the other into jotunheim (the abode of the giants), and the third to niffleheim (the regions of darkness and cold). by the side of each of these roots is a spring, from which it is watered. the root that extends into asgard is carefully tended by the three norns, goddesses, who are regarded as the dispensers of fate. they are urdur (the past), verdandi (the present), skuld (the future). the spring at the jotunheim side is ymir's well, in which wisdom and wit lie hidden, but that of niffleheim feeds the adder nidhogge (darkness), which perpetually gnaws at the root. four harts run across the branches of the tree and bite the buds; they represent the four winds. under the tree lies ymir, and when he tries to shake off its weight the earth quakes. asgard is the name of the abode of the gods, access to which is only gained by crossing the bridge bifrost (the rainbow). asgard consists of golden and silver palaces, the dwellings of the gods, but the most beautiful of these is valhalla, the residence of odin. when seated on his throne he overlooks all heaven and earth. upon his shoulders are the ravens hugin and munin, who fly every day over the whole world, and on their return report to him all they have seen and heard. at his feet lie his two wolves, geri and freki, to whom odin gives all the meat that is set before him, for he himself stands in no need of food. mead is for him both food and drink. he invented the runic characters, and it is the business of the norns to engrave the runes of fate upon a metal shield. from odin's name, spelt woden, as it sometimes is, came wednesday, the name of the fourth day of the week. odin is frequently called alfadur (all-father), but this name is sometimes used in a way that shows that the scandinavians had an idea of a deity superior to odin, uncreated and eternal. of the joys of valhalla valhalla is the great hall of odin, wherein he feasts with his chosen heroes, all those who have fallen bravely in battle, for all who die a peaceful death are excluded. the flesh of the boar schrimnir is served up to them, and is abundant for all. for although this boar is cooked every morning, he becomes whole again every night. for drink the heroes are supplied abundantly with mead from the she-goat heidrum. when the heroes are not feasting they amuse themselves with fighting. every day they ride out into the court or field and fight until they cut each other in pieces. this is their pastime; but when meal time comes they recover from their wounds and return to feast in valhalla. the valkyrie the valkyrie are warlike virgins, mounted upon horses and armed with helmets and spears. odin, who is desirous to collect a great many heroes in valhalla to be able to meet the giants in a day when the final contest must come, sends down to every battle-field to make choice of those who shall be slain. the valkyrie are his messengers, and their name means "choosers of the slain." when they ride forth on their errand, their armor sheds a strange flickering light, which flashes up over the northern skies, making what men call the "aurora borealis," or "northern lights." [footnote: gray's ode, "the fatal sisters," is founded on this superstition.] of thor and the other gods thor, the thunderer, odin's eldest son, is the strongest of gods and men, and possesses three very precious things. the first is a hammer, which both the frost and the mountain giants know to their cost, when they see it hurled against them in the air, for it has split many a skull of their fathers and kindred. when thrown, it returns to his hand of its own accord. the second rare thing he possesses is called the belt of strength. when he girds it about him his divine might is doubled. the third, also very precious, is his iron gloves, which he puts on whenever he would use his mallet efficiently. from thor's name is derived our word thursday. frey is one of the most celebrated of the gods. he presides over rain and sunshine and all the fruits of the earth. his sister freya is the most propitious of the goddesses. she loves music, spring, and flowers, and is particularly fond of the elves (fairies). she is very fond of love ditties, and all lovers would do well to invoke her. bragi is the god of poetry, and his song records the deeds of warriors. his wife, iduna, keeps in a box the apples which the gods, when they feel old age approaching, have only to taste of to become young again. heimdall is the watchman of the gods, and is therefore placed on the borders of heaven to prevent the giants from forcing their way over the bridge bifrost (the rainbow). he requires less sleep than a bird, and sees by night as well as by day a hundred miles around him. so acute is his ear that no sound escapes him, for he can even hear the grass grow and the wool on a sheep's back. of loki and his progeny there is another deity who is described as the calumniator of the gods and the contriver of all fraud and mischief. his name is loki. he is handsome and well made, but of a very fickle mood and most evil disposition. he is of the giant race, but forced himself into the company of the gods, and seems to take pleasure in bringing them into difficulties, and in extricating them out of the danger by his cunning, wit, and skill. loki has three children. the first is the wolf fenris, the second the midgard serpent, the third hela (death), the gods were not ignorant that these monsters were growing up, and that they would one day bring much evil upon gods and men. so odin deemed it advisable to send one to bring them to him. when they came he threw the serpent into that deep ocean by which the earth is surrounded. but the monster had grown to such an enormous size that holding his tail in his mouth he encircles the whole earth. hela he cast into niffleheim, and gave her power over nine worlds or regions, into which she distributes those who are sent to her; that is, all who die of sickness or old age. her hall is called elvidner. hunger is her table, starvation her knife, delay her man, slowness her maid, precipice her threshold, care her bed, and burning anguish forms the hangings of the apartments. she may easily be recognized, for her body is half flesh color and half blue, and she has a dreadfully stern and forbidding countenance. the wolf fenris gave the gods a great deal of trouble before they succeeded in chaining him. he broke the strongest fetters as if they were made of cobwebs. finally the gods sent a messenger to the mountain spirits, who made for them the chain called gleipnir. it is fashioned of six things, viz., the noise made by the footfall of a cat, the beards of women, the roots of stones, the breath of fishes, the nerves (sensibilities) of bears, and the spittle of birds. when finished it was as smooth and soft as a silken string. but when the gods asked the wolf to suffer himself to be bound with this apparently slight ribbon, he suspected their design, fearing that it was made by enchantment. he therefore only consented to be bound with it upon condition that one of the gods put his hand in his (fenris's) mouth as a pledge that the band was to be removed again. tyr (the god of battles) alone had courage enough to do this. but when the wolf found that he could not break his fetters, and that the gods would not release him, he bit off tyr's hand, and he has ever since remained one-handed. how thor paid the mountain giant his wages once on a time, when the gods were constructing their abodes and had already finished midgard and valhalla, a certain artificer came and offered to build them a residence so well fortified that they should be perfectly safe from the incursions of the frost giants and the giants of the mountains. but he demanded for his reward the goddess freya, together with the sun and moon. the gods yielded to his terms, provided he would finish the whole work himself without any one's assistance, and all within the space of one winter. but if anything remained unfinished on the first day of summer he should forfeit the recompense agreed on. on being told these terms the artificer stipulated that he should be allowed the use of his horse svadilfari, and this by the advice of loki was granted to him. he accordingly set to work on the first day of winter, and during the night let his horse draw stone for the building. the enormous size of the stones struck the gods with astonishment, and they saw clearly that the horse did one-half more of the toilsome work than his master. their bargain, however, had been concluded, and confirmed by solemn oaths, for without these precautions a giant would not have thought himself safe among the gods, especially when thor should return from an expedition he had then undertaken against the evil demons. as the winter drew to a close, the building was far advanced, and the bulwarks were sufficiently high and massive to render the place impregnable. in short, when it wanted but three days to summer, the only part that remained to be finished was the gateway. then sat the gods on their seats of justice and entered into consultation, inquiring of one another who among them could have advised to give freya away, or to plunge the heavens in darkness by permitting the giant to carry away the sun and the moon. they all agreed that no one but loki, the author of so many evil deeds, could have given such bad counsel, and that he should be put to a cruel death if he did not contrive some way to prevent the artificer from completing his task and obtaining the stipulated recompense. they proceeded to lay hands on loki, who in his fright promised upon oath that, let it cost him what it would, he would so manage matters that the man should lose his reward. that very night when the man went with svadilfari for building stone, a mare suddenly ran out of a forest and began to neigh. the horse thereat broke loose and ran after the mare into the forest, which obliged the man also to run after his horse, and thus between one and another the whole night was lost, so that at dawn the work had not made the usual progress. the man, seeing that he must fail of completing his task, resumed his own gigantic stature, and the gods now clearly perceived that it was in reality a mountain giant who had come amongst them. feeling no longer bound by their oaths, they called on thor, who immediately ran to their assistance, and lifting up his mallet, paid the workman his wages, not with the sun and moon, and not even by sending him back to jotunheim, for with the first blow he shattered the giant's skull to pieces and hurled him headlong into niffleheim. the recovery of the hammer once upon a time it happened that thor's hammer fell into the possession of the giant thrym, who buried it eight fathoms deep under the rocks of jotunheim. thor sent loki to negotiate with thrym, but he could only prevail so far as to get the giant's promise to restore the weapon if freya would consent to be his bride. loki returned and reported the result of his mission, but the goddess of love was quite horrified at the idea of bestowing her charms on the king of the frost giants. in this emergency loki persuaded thor to dress himself in freya's clothes and accompany him to jotunheim. thrym received his veiled bride with due courtesy, but was greatly surprised at seeing her eat for her supper eight salmons and a full grown ox, besides other delicacies, washing the whole down with three tuns of mead. loki, however, assured him that she had not tasted anything for eight long nights, so great was her desire to see her lover, the renowned ruler of jotunheim. thrym had at length the curiosity to peep under his bride's veil, but started back in affright and demanded why freya's eyeballs glistened with fire. loki repeated the same excuse and the giant was satisfied. he ordered the hammer to be brought in and laid on the maiden's lap. thereupon thor threw off his disguise, grasped his redoubted weapon, and slaughtered thrym and all his followers. frey also possessed a wonderful weapon, a sword which would of itself spread a field with carnage whenever the owner desired it. frey parted with this sword, but was less fortunate than thor and never recovered it. it happened in this way: frey once mounted odin's throne, from whence one can see over the whole universe, and looking round saw far off in the giant's kingdom a beautiful maid, at the sight of whom he was struck with sudden sadness, insomuch that from that moment he could neither sleep, nor drink, nor speak. at last skirnir, his messenger, drew his secret from him, and undertook to get him the maiden for his bride, if he would give him his sword as a reward. frey consented and gave him the sword, and skirnir set off on his journey and obtained the maiden's promise that within nine nights she would come to a certain place and there wed frey. skirnir having reported the success of his errand, frey exclaimed: "long is one night, long are two nights, but how shall i hold out three? shorter hath seemed a month to me oft than of this longing time the half." so frey obtained gerda, the most beautiful of all women, for his wife, but he lost his sword. this story, entitled "skirnir for," and the one immediately preceding it, "thrym's quida," will be found poetically told in longfellow's "poets and poetry of europe." chapter xxxix thor's visit to jotunheim thor's visit to jotunheim, the giant's country one day the god thor, with his servant thialfi, and accompanied by loki, set out on a journey to the giant's country. thialfi was of all men the swiftest of foot. he bore thor's wallet, containing their provisions. when night came on they found themselves in an immense forest, and searched on all sides for a place where they might pass the night, and at last came to a very large hall, with an entrance that took the whole breadth of one end of the building. here they lay down to sleep, but towards midnight were alarmed by an earthquake which shook the whole edifice. thor, rising up, called on his companions to seek with him a place of safety. on the right they found an adjoining chamber, into which the others entered, but thor remained at the doorway with his mallet in his hand, prepared to defend himself, whatever might happen. a terrible groaning was heard during the night, and at dawn of day thor went out and found lying near him a huge giant, who slept and snored in the way that had alarmed them so. it is said that for once thor was afraid to use his mallet, and as the giant soon waked up, thor contented himself with simply asking his name. "my name is skrymir," said the giant, "but i need not ask thy name, for i know that thou art the god thor. but what has become of my glove?" thor then perceived that what they had taken overnight for a hall was the giant's glove, and the chamber where his two companions had sought refuge was the thumb. skrymir then proposed that they should travel in company, and thor consenting, they sat down to eat their breakfast, and when they had done, skrymir packed all the provisions into one wallet, threw it over his shoulder, and strode on before them, taking such tremendous strides that they were hard put to it to keep up with him. so they travelled the whole day, and at dusk skrymir chose a place for them to pass the night in under a large oak tree. skrymir then told them he would lie down to sleep. "but take ye the wallet," he added, "and prepare your supper." skrymir soon fell asleep and began to snore strongly; but when thor tried to open the wallet, he found the giant had tied it up so tight he could not untie a single knot. at last thor became wroth, and grasping his mallet with both hands he struck a furious blow on the giant's head. skrymir, awakening, merely asked whether a leaf had not fallen on his head, and whether they had supped and were ready to go to sleep. thor answered that they were just going to sleep, and so saying went and laid himself down under another tree. but sleep came not that night to thor, and when skrymir snored again so loud that the forest reechoed with the noise, he arose, and grasping his mallet launched it with such force at the giant's skull that it made a deep dint in it. skrymir, awakening, cried out, "what's the matter? are there any birds perched on this tree? i felt some moss from the branches fall on my head. how fares it with thee, thor?" but thor went away hastily, saying that he had just then awoke, and that as it was only midnight, there was still time for sleep. he, however, resolved that if he had an opportunity of striking a third blow, it should settle all matters between them. a little before daybreak he perceived that skrymir was again fast asleep, and again grasping his mallet, he dashed it with such violence that it forced its way into the giant's skull up to the handle. but skrymir sat up, and stroking his cheek said, "an acorn fell on my head. what! art thou awake, thor? me thinks it is time for us to get up and dress ourselves; but you have not now a long way before you to the city called utgard. i have heard you whispering to one another that i am not a man of small dimensions; but if you come to utgard you will see there many men much taller than i. wherefore, i advise you, when you come there, not to make too much of yourselves, for the followers of utgard-- loki will not brook the boasting of such little fellows as you are. you must take the road that leads eastward, mine lies northward, so we must part here." hereupon he threw his wallet over his shoulders and turned away from them into the forest, and thor had no wish to stop him or to ask for any more of his company. thor and his companions proceeded on their way, and towards noon descried a city standing in the middle of a plain. it was so lofty that they were obliged to bend their necks quite back on their shoulders in order to see to the top of it. on arriving they entered the city, and seeing a large palace before them with the door wide open, they went in, and found a number of men of prodigious stature, sitting on benches in the hall. going further, they came before the king, utgard-loki, whom they saluted with great respect. the king, regarding them with a scornful smile, said, "if i do not mistake me, that stripling yonder must be the god thor." then addressing himself to thor, he said, "perhaps thou mayst be more than thou appearest to be. what are the feats that thou and thy fellows deem yourselves skilled in, for no one is permitted to remain here who does not, in some feat or other, excel all other men?" "the feat that i know," said loki, "is to eat quicker than any one else, and in this i am ready to give a proof against any one here who may choose to compete with me." "that will indeed be a feat," said utgard-loki, "if thou performest what thou promisest, and it shall be tried forthwith." he then ordered one of his men who was sitting at the farther end of the bench, and whose name was logi, to come forward and try his skill with loki. a trough filled with meat having been set on the hall floor, loki placed himself at one end, and logi at the other, and each of them began to eat as fast as he could, until they met in the middle of the trough. but it was found that loki had only eaten the flesh, while his adversary had devoured both flesh and bone, and the trough to boot. all the company therefore adjudged that loki was vanquished. utgard-loki then asked what feat the young man who accompanied thor could perform. thialfi answered that he would run a race with any one who might be matched against him. the king observed that skill in running was something to boast of, but if the youth would win the match he must display great agility. he then arose and went with all who were present to a plain where there was good ground for running on, and calling a young man named hugi, bade him run a match with thialfi. in the first course hugi so much out-stripped his competitor that he turned back and met him not far from the starting place. then they ran a second and a third time, but thialfi met with no better success. utgard-loki then asked thor in what feats he would choose to give proofs of that prowess for which he was so famous. thor answered that he would try a drinking-match with any one. utgard-loki bade his cup-bearer bring the large horn which his followers were obliged to empty when they had trespassed in any way against the law of the feast. the cupbearer having presented it to thor, utgard-loki said, "whoever is a good drinker will empty that horn at a single draught, though most men make two of it, but the most puny drinker can do it in three." thor looked at the horn, which seemed of no extraordinary size though somewhat long; however, as he was very thirsty, he set it to his lips, and without drawing breath, pulled as long and as deeply as he could, that he might not be obliged to make a second draught of it; but when he set the horn down and looked in, he could scarcely perceive that the liquor was diminished. after taking breath, thor went to it again with all his might, but when he took the horn from his mouth, it seemed to him that he had drunk rather less than before, although the horn could now be carried without spilling. "how now, thor?" said utgard-loki; "thou must not spare thyself; if thou meanest to drain the horn at the third draught thou must pull deeply; and i must needs say that thou wilt not be called so mighty a man here as thou art at home if thou showest no greater prowess in other feats than methinks will be shown in this." thor, full of wrath, again set the horn to his lips, and did his best to empty it; but on looking in found the liquor was only a little lower, so he resolved to make no further attempt, but gave back the horn to the cup-bearer. "i now see plainly," said utgard-loki, "that thou art not quite so stout as we thought thee: but wilt thou try any other feat, though methinks thou art not likely to bear any prize away with thee hence." "what new trial hast thou to propose?" said thor. "we have a very trifling game here," answered utgard-loki, "in which we exercise none but children. it consists in merely lifting my cat from the ground; nor should i have dared to mention such a feat to the great thor if i had not already observed that thou art by no means what we took thee for." as he finished speaking, a large gray cat sprang on the hall floor. thor put his hand under the cat's belly and did his utmost to raise him from the floor, but the cat, bending his back, had, notwithstanding all thor's efforts, only one of his feet lifted up, seeing which thor made no further attempt. "this trial has turned out," said utgard-loki, "just as i imagined it would. the cat is large, but thor is little in comparison to our men." "little as ye call me," answered thor, "let me see who among you will come hither now i am in wrath and wrestle with me." "i see no one here," said utgard-loki, looking at the men sitting on the benches, "who would not think it beneath him to wrestle with thee; let somebody, however, call hither that old crone, my nurse elli, and let thor wrestle with her if he will. she has thrown to the ground many a man not less strong than this thor is." a toothless old woman then entered the hall, and was told by utgard-loki to take hold of thor. the tale is shortly told. the more thor tightened his hold on the crone the firmer she stood. at length after a very violent struggle thor began to lose his footing, and was finally brought down upon one knee. utgard-loki then told them to desist, adding that thor had now no occasion to ask any one else in the hall to wrestle with him, and it was also getting late; so he showed thor and his companions to their seats, and they passed the night there in good cheer. the next morning, at break of day, thor and his companions dressed themselves and prepared for their departure. utgard-loki ordered a table to be set for them, on which there was no lack of victuals or drink. after the repast utgard-loki led them to the gate of the city, and on parting asked thor how he thought his journey had turned out, and whether he had met with any men stronger than himself. thor told him that he could not deny but that he had brought great shame on himself. "and what grieves me most," he added, "is that ye will call me a person of little worth." "nay," said utgard-loki, "it behooves me to tell thee the truth, now thou art out of the city, which so long as i live and have my way thou shalt never enter again. and, by my troth, had i known beforehand that thou hadst so much strength in thee, and wouldst have brought me so near to a great mishap, i would not have suffered thee to enter this time. know then that i have all along deceived thee by my illusions; first in the forest, where i tied up the wallet with iron wire so that thou couldst not untie it. after this thou gavest me three blows with thy mallet; the first, though the least, would have ended my days had it fallen on me, but i slipped aside and thy blows fell on the mountain, where thou wilt find three glens, one of them remarkably deep. these are the dints made by thy mallet. i have made use of similar illusions in the contests you have had with my followers. in the first, loki, like hunger itself, devoured all that was set before him, but logi was in reality nothing else than fire, and therefore consumed not only the meat, but the trough which held it. hugi, with whom thialfi contended in running, was thought, and it was impossible for thialfi to keep pace with that. when thou in thy turn didst attempt to empty the horn, thou didst perform, by my troth, a deed so marvellous that had i not seen it myself i should never have believed it. for one end of that horn reached the sea, which thou wast not aware of, but when thou comest to the shore thou wilt perceive how much the sea has sunk by thy draughts. thou didst perform a feat no less wonderful by lifting up the cat, and to tell thee the truth, when we saw that one of his paws was off the floor, we were all of us terror-stricken, for what thou tookest for a cat was in reality the midgard serpent that encompasseth the earth, and he was so stretched by thee that he was barely long enough to enclose it between his head and tail. thy wrestling with elli was also a most astonishing feat, for there was never yet a man, nor ever will be, whom old age, for such in fact was elli, will not sooner or later lay low. but now, as we are going to part, let me tell thee that it will be better for both of us if thou never come near me again, for shouldst thou do so, i shall again defend myself by other illusions, so that thou wilt only lose thy labor and get no fame from the contest with me." on hearing these words thor in a rage laid hold of his mallet and would have launched it at him, but utgard-loki had disappeared, and when thor would have returned to the city to destroy it, he found nothing around him but a verdant plain. chapter xl the death of baldur--the elves--runic letters--iceland--teutonic mythology--nibelungen lied the death of baldur baldur the good, having been tormented with terrible dreams indicating that his life was in peril, told them to the assembled gods, who resolved to conjure all things to avert from him the threatened danger. then frigga, the wife of odin, exacted an oath from fire and water, from iron and all other metals, from stones, trees, diseases, beasts, birds, poisons, and creeping things, that none of them would do any harm to baldur. odin, not satisfied with all this, and feeling alarmed for the fate of his son, determined to consult the prophetess angerbode, a giantess, mother of fenris, hela, and the midgard serpent. she was dead, and odin was forced to seek her in hela's dominions. this descent of odin forms the subject of gray's fine ode beginning,-- "uprose the king of men with speed and saddled straight his coal-black steed" but the other gods, feeling that what frigga had done was quite sufficient, amused themselves with using baldur as a mark, some hurling darts at him, some stones, while others hewed at him with their swords and battle-axes; for do what they would, none of them could harm him. and this became a favorite pastime with them and was regarded as an honor shown to baldur. but when loki beheld the scene he was sorely vexed that baldur was not hurt. assuming, therefore, the shape of a woman, he went to fensalir, the man- sion of frigga. that goddess, when she saw the pretended woman, inquired of her if she knew what the gods were doing at their meetings. she replied that they were throwing darts and stones at baldur, without being able to hurt him. "ay," said frigga, "neither stones, nor sticks, nor anything else can hurt baldur, for i have exacted an oath from all of them." "what," exclaimed the woman, "have all things sworn to spare baldur?" "all things," replied frigga, "except one little shrub that grows on the eastern side of valhalla, and is called mistletoe, and which i thought too young and feeble to crave an oath from." as soon as loki heard this he went away, and resuming his natural shape, cut off the mistletoe, and repaired to the place where the gods were assembled. there he found hodur standing apart, without partaking of the sports, on account of his blindness, and going up to him, said, "why dost thou not also throw something at baldur?" "because i am blind," answered hodur, "and see not where baldur is, and have, moreover, nothing to throw." "come, then," said loki, "do like the rest, and show honor to baldur by throwing this twig at him, and i will direct thy arm towards the place where he stands." hodur then took the mistletoe, and under the guidance of loki, darted it at baldur, who, pierced through and through, fell down lifeless. surely never was there witnessed, either among gods or men, a more atrocious deed than this. when baldur fell, the gods were struck speechless with horror, and then they looked at each other, and all were of one mind to lay hands on him who had done the deed, but they were obliged to delay their vengeance out of respect for the sacred place where they were assembled. they gave vent to their grief by loud lamentations. when the gods came to themselves, frigga asked who among them wished to gain all her love and good will. "for this," said she, "shall he have who will ride to hel and offer hela a ransom if she will let baldur return to asgard." whereupon hermod, surnamed the nimble, the son of odin, offered to undertake the journey. odin's horse, sleipnir, which has eight legs and can outrun the wind, was then led forth, on which hermod mounted and galloped away on his mission. for the space of nine days and as many nights he rode through deep glens so dark that he could not discern anything, until he arrived at the river gyoll, which he passed over on a bridge covered with glittering gold. the maiden who kept the bridge asked him his name and lineage, telling him that the day before five bands of dead persons had ridden over the bridge, and did not shake it as much as he alone. "but," she added, "thou hast not death's hue on thee; why then ridest thou here on the way to hel?" "i ride to hel," answered hermod, "to seek baldur. hast thou perchance seen him pass this way?" she replied, "baldur hath ridden over gyoll's bridge, and yonder lieth the way he took to the abodes of death" hermod pursued his journey until he came to the barred gates of hel. here he alighted, girthed his saddle tighter, and remounting clapped both spurs to his horse, who cleared the gate by a tremendous leap without touching it. hermod then rode on to the palace, where he found his brother baldur occupying the most distinguished seat in the hall, and passed the night in his company. the next morning he besought hela to let baldur ride home with him, assuring her that nothing but lamentations were to be heard among the gods. hela answered that it should now be tried whether baldur was so beloved as he was said to be. "if, therefore," she added, "all things in the world, both living and lifeless, weep for him, then shall he return to life; but if any one thing speak against him or refuse to weep, he shall be kept in hel." hermod then rode back to asgard and gave an account of all he had heard and witnessed. the gods upon this despatched messengers throughout the world to beg everything to weep in order that baldur might be delivered from hel. all things very willingly complied with this request, both men and every other living being, as well as earths, and stones, and trees, and metals, just as we have all seen these things weep when they are brought from a cold place into a hot one. as the messengers were returning, they found an old hag named thaukt sitting in a cavern, and begged her to weep baldur out of hel. but she answered, "thaukt will wail with dry tears baldur's bale-fire. let hela keep her own." it was strongly suspected that this hag was no other than loki himself, who never ceased to work evil among gods and men. so baldur was prevented from coming back to asgard. [footnote: in longfellow's poems will be found a poem entitled "tegner's drapa," upon the subject of baldur's death.] the gods took up the dead body and bore it to the seashore where stood baldur's ship "hringham," which passed for the largest in the world. baldur's dead body was put on the funeral pile, on board the ship, and his wife nanna was so struck with grief at the sight that she broke her heart, and her body was burned on the same pile as her husband's. there was a vast concourse of various kinds of people at baldur's obsequies. first came odin accompanied by frigga, the valkyrie, and his ravens; then frey in his car drawn by gullinbursti, the boar; heimdall rode his horse gulltopp, and freya drove in her chariot drawn by cats. there were also a great many frost giants and giants of the mountain present. baldur's horse was led to the pile fully caparisoned and consumed in the same flames with his master. but loki did not escape his deserved punishment. when he saw how angry the gods were, he fled to the mountain, and there built himself a hut with four doors, so that he could see every approaching danger. he invented a net to catch the fishes, such as fishermen have used since his time. but odin found out his hiding- place and the gods assembled to take him. he, seeing this, changed himself into a salmon, and lay hid among the stones of the brook. but the gods took his net and dragged the brook, and loki, finding he must be caught, tried to leap over the net; but thor caught him by the tail and compressed it, so that salmons ever since have had that part remarkably fine and thin. they bound him with chains and suspended a serpent over his head, whose venom falls upon his face drop by drop. his wife siguna sits by his side and catches the drops as they fall, in a cup; but when she carries it away to empty it, the venom falls upon loki, which makes him howl with horror, and twist his body about so violently that the whole earth shakes, and this produces what men call earthquakes. the elves the edda mentions another class of beings, inferior to the gods, but still possessed of great power; these were called elves. the white spirits, or elves of light, were exceedingly fair, more brilliant than the sun, and clad in garments of a delicate and transparent texture. they loved the light, were kindly disposed to mankind, and generally appeared as fair and lovely children. their country was called alfheim, and was the domain of freyr, the god of the sun, in whose light they were always sporting. the black or night elves were a different kind of creatures. ugly, long-nosed dwarfs, of a dirty brown color, they appeared only at night, for they avoided the sun as their most deadly enemy, because whenever his beams fell upon any of them they changed them immediately into stones. their language was the echo of solitudes, and their dwelling-places subterranean caves and clefts. they were supposed to have come into existence as maggots produced by the decaying flesh of ymir's body, and were afterwards endowed by the gods with a human form and great understanding. they were particularly distinguished for a knowledge of the mysterious powers of nature, and for the runes which they carved and explained. they were the most skilful artificers of all created beings, and worked in metals and in wood. among their most noted works were thor's hammer, and the ship "skidbladnir," which they gave to freyr, and which was so large that it could contain all the deities with their war and household implements, but so skillfully was it wrought that when folded together it could be put into a side pocket. ragnarok, the twilight of the gods it was a firm belief of the northern nations that a time would come when all the visible creation, the gods of valhalla and niffleheim, the inhabitants of jotunheim, alfheim, and midgard, together with their habitations, would be destroyed. the fearful day of destruction will not, however, be without its forerunners. first will come a triple winter, during which snow will fall from the four corners of the heavens, the frost be very severe, the wind piercing, the weather tempestuous, and the sun impart no gladness. three such winters will pass away without being tempered by a single summer. three other similar winters will then follow, during which war and discord will spread over the universe. the earth itself will be frightened and begin to tremble, the sea leave its basin, the heavens tear asunder, and men perish in great numbers, and the eagles of the air feast upon their still quivering bodies. the wolf fenris will now break his bands, the midgard serpent rise out of her bed in the sea, and loki, released from his bonds, will join the enemies of the gods. amidst the general devastation the sons of muspelheim will rush forth under their leader surtur, before and behind whom are flames and burning fire. onward they ride over bifrost, the rainbow bridge, which breaks under the horses' hoofs. but they, disregarding its fall, direct their course to the battlefield called vigrid. thither also repair the wolf fenris, the midgard serpent, loki with all the followers of hela, and the frost giants. heimdall now stands up and sounds the giallar horn to assemble the gods and heroes for the contest. the gods advance, led on by odin, who engages the wolf fenris, but falls a victim to the monster, who is, however, slain by vidar, odin's son. thor gains great renown by killing the midgard serpent, but recoils and falls dead, suffocated with the venom which the dying monster vomits over him. loki and heimdall meet and fight till they are both slain. the gods and their enemies having fallen in battle, surtur, who has killed freyr, darts fire and flames over the world, and the whole universe is burned up. the sun becomes dim, the earth sinks into the ocean, the stars fall from heaven, and time is no more. after this alfadur (the almighty) will cause a new heaven and a new earth to arise out of the sea. the new earth filled with abundant supplies will spontaneously produce its fruits without labor or care. wickedness and misery will no more be known, but the gods and men will live happily together. runic letters one cannot travel far in denmark, norway, or sweden without meeting with great stones of different forms, engraven with characters called runic, which appear at first sight very different from all we know. the letters consist almost invariably of straight lines, in the shape of little sticks either singly or put together. such sticks were in early times used by the northern nations for the purpose of ascertaining future events. the sticks were shaken up, and from the figures that they formed a kind of divination was derived. the runic characters were of various kinds. they were chiefly used for magical purposes. the noxious, or, as they called them, the bitter runes, were employed to bring various evils on their enemies; the favorable averted misfortune. some were medicinal, others employed to win love, etc. in later times they were frequently used for inscriptions, of which more than a thousand have been found. the language is a dialect of the gothic, called norse, still in use in iceland. the inscriptions may therefore be read with certainty, but hitherto very few have been found which throw the least light on history. they are mostly epitaphs on tombstones. gray's ode on the "descent of odin" contains an allusion to the use of runic letters for incantation: "facing to the northern clime, thrice he traced the runic rhyme; thrice pronounced, in accents dread, the thrilling verse that wakes the dead, till from out the hollow ground slowly breathed a sullen sound." the skalds the skalds were the bards and poets of the nation, a very important class of men in all communities in an early stage of civilization. they are the depositaries of whatever historic lore there is, and it is their office to mingle something of intellectual gratification with the rude feasts of the warriors, by rehearsing, with such accompaniments of poetry and music as their skill can afford, the exploits of their heroes living or dead. the compositions of the skalds were called sagas, many of which have come down to us, and contain valuable materials of history, and a faithful picture of the state of society at the time to which they relate. iceland the eddas and sagas have come to us from iceland. the following extract from carlyle's lectures on "heroes and hero worship" gives an animated account of the region where the strange stories we have been reading had their origin. let the reader contrast it for a moment with greece, the parent of classical mythology: "in that strange island, iceland,--burst up, the geologists say, by fire from the bottom of the sea, a wild land of barrenness and lava, swallowed many months of every year in black tempests, yet with a wild, gleaming beauty in summer time, towering up there stern and grim in the north ocean, with its snow yokuls [mountains], roaring geysers [boiling springs], sulphur pools, and horrid volcanic chasms, like the waste, chaotic battlefield of frost and fire,--where, of all places, we least looked for literature or written memorials,--the record of these things was written down. on the seaboard of this wild land is a rim of grassy country, where cattle can subsist, and men by means of them and of what the sea yields; and it seems they were poetic men these, men who had deep thoughts in them and uttered musically their thoughts. much would be lost had iceland not been burst up from the sea, not been discovered by the northmen!" teutonic mythology in the mythology of germany proper, the name of odin appears as wotan; freya and frigga are regarded as one and the same divinity, and the gods are in general represented as less warlike in character than those in the scandinavian myths. as a whole, however, teutonic mythology runs along almost identical lines with that of the northern nations. the most notable divergence is due to modifications of the legends by reason of the difference in climatic conditions. the more advanced social condition of the germans is also apparent in their mythology. the nibelungen lied one of the oldest myths of the teutonic race is found in the great national epic of the nibelungen lied, which dates back to the prehistoric era when wotan, frigga, thor, loki, and the other gods and goddesses were worshipped in the german forests. the epic is divided into two parts, the first of which tells how siegfried, the youngest of the kings of the netherlands, went to worms, to ask in marriage the hand of kriemhild, sister of gunther, king of burgundy. while he was staying with gunther, siegfried helped the burgundian king to secure as his wife brunhild, queen of issland. the latter had announced publicly that he only should be her husband who could beat her in hurling a spear, throwing a huge stone, and in leaping. siegfried, who possessed a cloak of invisibility, aided gunther in these three contests, and brunhild became his wife. in return for these services, gunther gave siegfried his sister kriemhild in marriage. after some time had elapsed, siegfried and kriemhild went to visit gunther, when the two women fell into a dispute about the relative merits of their husbands. kriemhild, to exalt siegfried, boasted that it was to the latter that gunther owed his victories and his wife. brunhild, in great anger, employed hagan, liegeman of gunther, to murder siegfried. in the epic hagan is described as follows: "well-grown and well-compacted was that redoubted guest; long were his legs and sinewy, and deep and broad his chest; his hair, that once was sable, with gray was dashed of late; most terrible his visage, and lordly was his gait." --nibelungen lied, stanza . this achilles of german romance stabbed siegfried between the shoulders, as the unfortunate king of the netherlands was stooping to drink from a brook during a hunting expedition. the second part of the epic relates how, thirteen years later, kriemhild married etzel, king of the huns. after a time, she invited the king of burgundy, with hagan and many others, to the court of her husband. a fearful quarrel was stirred up in the banquet hall, which ended in the slaughter of all the burgundians but gunther and hagan. these two were taken prisoners and given to kriemhild, who with her own hand cut off the heads of both. for this bloody act of vengeance kriemhild was herself slain by hildebrand, a magician and champion, who in german mythology holds a place to an extent corresponding to that of nestor in the greek mythology. the nibelungen hoard this was a mythical mass of gold and precious stones which siegfried obtained from the nibelungs, the people of the north whom he had conquered and whose country he had made tributary to his own kingdom of the netherlands. upon his marriage, siegfried gave the treasure to kriemhild as her wedding portion. after the murder of siegfried, hagan seized it and buried it secretly beneath the rhine at lochham, intending to recover it at a future period. the hoard was lost forever when hagan was killed by kriemhild. its wonders are thus set forth in the poem: "'twas as much as twelve huge wagons in four whole nights and days could carry from the mountain down to the salt sea bay; though to and fro each wagon thrice journeyed every day. "it was made up of nothing but precious stones and gold; were all the world bought from it, and down the value told, not a mark the less would there be left than erst there was, i ween." --nibelungen lied, xix. whoever possessed the nibelungen hoard were termed nibelungers. thus at one time certain people of norway were so called. when siegfried held the treasure he received the title "king of the nibelungers." wagner's nibelungen ring though richard wagner's music-drama of the nibelungen ring bears some resemblance to the ancient german epic, it is a wholly independent composition and was derived from various old songs and sagas, which the dramatist wove into one great harmonious story. the principal source was the volsunga saga, while lesser parts were taken from the elder edda and the younger edda, and others from the nibelungen lied, the ecklenlied, and other teutonic folklore. in the drama there are at first only four distinct races,--the gods, the giants, the dwarfs, and the nymphs. later, by a special creation, there come the valkyrie and the heroes. the gods are the noblest and highest race, and dwell first in the mountain meadows, later in the palace of valhalla on the heights. the giants are a great and strong race, but lack wisdom; they hate what is noble, and are enemies of the gods; they dwell in caves near the earth's surface. the dwarfs, or nibelungs, are black uncouth pigmies, hating the good, hating the gods; they are crafty and cunning, and dwell in the bowels of the earth. the nymphs are pure, innocent creatures of the water. the valkyrie are daughters of the gods, but mingled with a mortal strain; they gather dead heroes from the battle-fields and carry them to valhalla. the heroes are children of the gods, but also mingled with a mortal strain; they are destined to become at last the highest race of all, and to succeed the gods in the government of the world. the principal gods are wotan, loki, donner, and froh. the chief giants are fafner and fasolt, brothers. the chief dwarfs are alberich and mime, brothers, and later hagan, son of alberich. the chief nymphs are the rhine-daughters, flosshilda, woglinda, and wellgunda. there are nine valkyrie, of whom brunhild is the leading one. wagner's story of the ring may be summarized as follows: a hoard of gold exists in the depths of the rhine, guarded by the innocent rhine-maidens. alberich, the dwarf, forswears love to gain this gold. he makes it into a magic ring. it gives him all power, and he gathers by it a vast amount of treasures. meanwhile wotan, chief of the gods, has engaged the giants to build for him a noble castle, valhalla, from whence to rule the world, promising in payment freya, goddess of youth and love. but the gods find they cannot spare freya, as they are dependent on her for their immortal youth. loki, called upon to provide a substitute, tells of alberich's magic ring and other treasure. wotan goes with loki, and they steal the ring and the golden hoard from alberich, who curses the ring and lays the curse on all who shall henceforth possess it. the gods give the ring and the treasure to the giants as a substitute for freya. the curse at once begins. one giant, fafner, kills his brother to get all, and transforms himself into a dragon to guard his wealth. the gods enter valhalla over the rainbow bridge. this ends the first part of the drama, called the rhine-gold. the second part, the valkyrie, relates how wotan still covets the ring. he cannot take it himself, for he has given his word to the giants. he stands or falls by his word. so he devises an artifice to get the ring. he will get a hero-race to work for him and recover the ring and the treasures. siegmund and sieglinda are twin children of this new race. sieglinda is carried off as a child and is forced into marriage with hunding. siegmund comes, and unknowingly breaks the law of marriage, but wins nothung, the great sword, and a bride. brunhild, chief of the valkyrie, is commissioned by wotan at the instance of fricka, goddess of marriage, to slay him for his sin. she disobeys and tries to save him, but hunding, helped by wotan, slays him. sieglinda, however, about to bear the free hero, to be called siegfried, is saved by brunhild, and hid in the forest. brunhild herself is punished by being made a mortal woman. she is left sleeping on the mountains with a wall of fire around her which only a hero can penetrate. the drama continues with the story of siegfried, which opens with a scene in the smithy between mime the dwarf and siegfried. mime is welding a sword, and siegfried scorns him. mime tells him something of his mother, sieglinda, and shows him the broken pieces of his father's sword. wotan comes and tells mime that only one who has no fear can remake the sword. now siegfried knows no fear and soon remakes the sword nothung. wotan and alberich come to where the dragon fafner is guarding the ring. they both long for it, but neither can take it. soon mime comes bringing siegfried with the mighty sword. fafner comes out, but siegfried slays him. happening to touch his lips with the dragon's blood, he understands the language of the birds. they tell him of the ring. he goes and gets it. siegfried now has possession of the ring, but it is to bring him nothing of happiness, only evil. it is to curse love and finally bring death. the birds also tell him of mime's treachery. he slays mime. he longs for some one to love. the birds tell him of the slumbering brunnhilda, whom he finds and marries. the dusk of the gods portrays at the opening the three norns or fates weaving and measuring the thread of destiny. it is the beginning of the end. the perfect pair, siegfried and brunhild, appear in all the glory of their life, splendid ideals of manhood and womanhood. but siegfried goes out into the world to achieve deeds of prowess. he gives her the nibelungen ring to keep as a pledge of his love till his return. meanwhile alberich also has begotten a son, hagan, to achieve for him the possession of the ring. he is partly of the gibichung race, and works through gunther and gutrune, half-brother and half-sister to him. they beguile siegfried to them, give him a magic draught which makes him forget brunhild and fall in love with gutrune. under this same spell, he offers to bring brunhild for wife to gunther. now is valhalla full of sorrow and despair. the gods fear the end. wotan murmurs, "o that she would give back the ring to the rhine." but brunhild will not give it up,--it is now her pledge of love. siegfried comes, takes the ring, and brunhild is now brought to the rhine castle of the gibichungs, but siegfried under the spell does not love her. she is to be wedded to gunther. she rises in wrath and denounces siegfried. but at a hunting banquet siegfried is given another magic draught, remembers all, and is slain by hagan by a blow in the back, as he calls on brunhild's name in love. then comes the end. the body of siegfried is burned on a funeral pyre, a grand funeral march is heard, and brunhild rides into the flames and sacrifices herself for love's sake; the ring goes back to the rhine-daughters; and the old world--of the gods of valhalla, of passion and sin--is burnt up with flames, for the gods have broken moral law, and coveted power rather than love, gold rather than truth, and therefore must perish. they pass, and a new era, the reign of love and truth, has begun. those who wish to study the differences in the legends of the nibelungen lied and the nibelungen ring, and the way in which wagner used his ancient material, are referred to professor w. c. sawyer's book on "teutonic legends in the nibelungen lied and the nibelungen ring," where the matter is treated in full detail. for a very thorough and clear analysis of the ring as wagner gives it, with a study of the musical motifs, probably nothing is better for general readers than the volume "the epic of sounds," by freda winworth. the more scholarly work of professor lavignac is indispensable for the student of wagner's dramas. there is much illuminating comment on the sources and materials in "legends of the wagner drama" by j. l. weston. chapter xli the druids--iona druids the druids were the priests or ministers of religion among the ancient celtic nations in gaul, britain, and germany. our information respecting them is borrowed from notices in the greek and roman writers, compared with the remains of welsh and gaelic poetry still extant. the druids combined the functions of the priest, the magistrate, the scholar, and the physician. they stood to the people of the celtic tribes in a relation closely analogous to that in which the brahmans of india, the magi of persia, and the priests of the egyptians stood to the people respectively by whom they were revered. the druids taught the existence of one god, to whom they gave a name "be' al," which celtic antiquaries tell us means "the life of everything," or "the source of all beings," and which seems to have affinity with the phoenician baal. what renders this affinity more striking is that the druids as well as the phoenicians identified this, their supreme deity, with the sun. fire was regarded as a symbol of the divinity. the latin writers assert that the druids also worshipped numerous inferior gods. they used no images to represent the object of their worship, nor did they meet in temples or buildings of any kind for the performance of their sacred rites. a circle of stones (each stone generally of vast size), enclosing an area of from twenty feet to thirty yards in diameter, constituted their sacred place. the most celebrated of these now remaining is stonehenge, on salisbury plain, england. these sacred circles were generally situated near some stream, or under the shadow of a grove or wide-spreading oak. in the centre of the circle stood the cromlech or altar, which was a large stone, placed in the manner of a table upon other stones set up on end. the druids had also their high places, which were large stones or piles of stones on the summits of hills. these were called cairns, and were used in the worship of the deity under the symbol of the sun. that the druids offered sacrifices to their deity there can be no doubt. but there is some uncertainty as to what they offered, and of the ceremonies connected with their religious services we know almost nothing. the classical (roman) writers affirm that they offered on great occasions human sacrifices; as for success in war or for relief from dangerous diseases. caesar has given a detailed account of the manner in which this was done. "they have images of immense size, the limbs of which are framed with twisted twigs and filled with living persons. these being set on fire, those within are encompassed by the flames." many attempts have been made by celtic writers to shake the testimony of the roman historians to this fact, but without success. the druids observed two festivals in each year. the former took place in the beginning of may, and was called beltane or "fire of god." on this occasion a large fire was kindled on some elevated spot, in honor of the sun, whose returning beneficence they thus welcomed after the gloom and desolation of winter. of this custom a trace remains in the name given to whitsunday in parts of scotland to this day. sir walter scott uses the word in the "boat song" in the "lady of the lake": "ours is no sapling, chance sown by the fountain, blooming at beltane in winter to fade;" etc. the other great festival of the druids was called "samh'in," or "fire of peace," and was held on halloweve (first of november), which still retains this designation in the highlands of scotland. on this occasion the druids assembled in solemn conclave, in the most central part of the district, to discharge the judicial functions of their order. all questions, whether public or private, all crimes against person or property, were at this time brought before them for adjudication. with these judicial acts were combined certain superstitious usages, especially the kindling of the sacred fire, from which all the fires in the district, which had been beforehand scrupulously extinguished, might be relighted. this usage of kindling fires on hallow-eve lingered in the british islands long after the establishment of christianity. besides these two great annual festivals, the druids were in the habit of observing the full moon, and especially the sixth day of the moon. on the latter they sought the mistletoe, which grew on their favorite oaks, and to which, as well as to the oak itself, they ascribed a peculiar virtue and sacredness. the discovery of it was an occasion of rejoicing and solemn worship. "they call it," says pliny, "by a word in their language, which means 'heal- all,' and having made solemn preparation for feasting and sacrifice under the tree, they drive thither two milk-white bulls, whose horns are then for the first time bound. the priest then, robed in white, ascends the tree, and cuts off the mistletoe with a golden sickle. it is caught in a white mantle, after which they proceed to slay the victims, at the same time praying that god would render his gift prosperous to those to whom he had given it." they drink the water in which it has been infused, and think it a remedy for all diseases. the mistletoe is a parasitic plant, and is not always nor often found on the oak, so that when it is found it is the more precious. the druids were the teachers of morality as well as of religion. of their ethical teaching a valuable specimen is preserved in the triads of the welsh bards, and from this we may gather that their views of moral rectitude were on the whole just, and that they held and inculcated many very noble and valuable principles of conduct. they were also the men of science and learning of their age and people. whether they were acquainted with letters or not has been disputed, though the probability is strong that they were, to some extent. but it is certain that they committed nothing of their doctrine, their history, or their poetry to writing. their teaching was oral, and their literature (if such a word may be used in such a case) was preserved solely by tradition. but the roman writers admit that "they paid much attention to the order and laws of nature, and investigated and taught to the youth under their charge many things concerning the stars and their motions, the size of the world and the lands, and concerning the might and power of the immortal gods." their history consisted in traditional tales, in which the heroic deeds of their forefathers were celebrated. these were apparently in verse, and thus constituted part of the poetry as well as the history of the druids. in the poems of ossian we have, if not the actual productions of druidical times, what may be considered faithful representations of the songs of the bards. the bards were an essential part of the druidical hierarchy. one author, pennant, says, "the bards were supposed to be endowed with powers equal to inspiration. they were the oral historians of all past transactions, public and private. they were also accomplished genealogists," etc. pennant gives a minute account of the eisteddfods or sessions of the bards and minstrels, which were held in wales for many centuries, long after the druidical priesthood in its other departments became extinct. at these meetings none but bards of merit were suffered to rehearse their pieces, and minstrels of skill to perform. judges were appointed to decide on their respective abilities, and suitable degrees were conferred. in the earlier period the judges were appointed by the welsh princes, and after the conquest of wales, by commission from the kings of england. yet the tradition is that edward i., in revenge for the influence of the bards in animating the resistance of the people to his sway, persecuted them with great cruelty. this tradition has furnished the poet gray with the subject of his celebrated ode, the "bard." there are still occasional meetings of the lovers of welsh poetry and music, held under the ancient name. among mrs. hemans' poems is one written for an eisteddfod, or meeting of welsh bards, held in london, may , . it begins with a description of the ancient meeting, of which the following lines are a part: "... midst the eternal cliffs, whose strength defied the crested roman in his hour of pride; and where the druid's ancient cromlech frowned, and the oaks breathed mysterious murmurs round, there thronged the inspired of yore! on plain or height, in the sun's face, beneath the eye of light, and baring unto heaven each noble head, stood in the circle, where none else might tread." the druidical system was at its height at the time of the roman invasion under julius caesar. against the druids, as their chief enemies, these conquerors of the world directed their unsparing fury. the druids, harassed at all points on the mainland, retreated to anglesey and iona, where for a season they found shelter and continued their now dishonored rites. the druids retained their predominance in iona and over the adjacent islands and mainland until they were supplanted and their superstitions overturned by the arrival of st. columba, the apostle of the highlands, by whom the inhabitants of that district were first led to profess christianity. iona one of the smallest of the british isles, situated near a rugged and barren coast, surrounded by dangerous seas, and possessing no sources of internal wealth, iona has obtained an imperishable place in history as the seat of civilization and religion at a time when the darkness of heathenism hung over almost the whole of northern europe. lona or icolmkill is situated at the extremity of the island of mull, from which it is separated by a strait of half a mile in breadth, its distance from the mainland of scotland being thirty-six miles. columba was a native of ireland, and connected by birth with the princes of the land. ireland was at that time a land of gospel light, while the western and northern parts of scotland were still immersed in the darkness of heathenism. columba with twelve friends landed on the island of lona in the year of our lord , having made the passage in a wicker boat covered with hides. the druids who occupied the island endeavored to prevent his settling there, and the savage nations on the adjoining shores incommoded him with their hostility, and on several occasions endangered his life by their attacks. yet by his perseverance and zeal he surmounted all opposition, procured from the king a gift of the island, and established there a monastery of which he was the abbot. he was unwearied in his labors to disseminate a knowledge of the scriptures throughout the highlands and islands of scotland, and such was the reverence paid him that though not a bishop, but merely a presbyter and monk, the entire province with its bishops was subject to him and his successors. the pictish monarch was so impressed with a sense of his wisdom and worth that he held him in the highest honor, and the neighboring chiefs and princes sought his counsel and availed themselves of his judgment in settling their disputes. when columba landed on lona he was attended by twelve followers whom he had formed into a religious body of which he was the head. to these, as occasion required, others were from time to time added, so that the original number was always kept up. their institution was called a monastery and the superior an abbot, but the system had little in common with the monastic institutions of later times. the name by which those who submitted to the rule were known was that of culdees, probably from the latin "cultores dei"--worshippers of god. they were a body of religious persons associated together for the purpose of aiding each other in the common work of preaching the gospel and teaching youth, as well as maintaining in themselves the fervor of devotion by united exercises of worship. on entering the order certain vows were taken by the members, but they were not those which were usually imposed by monastic orders, for of these, which are three,-- celibacy, poverty, and obedience.--the culdees were bound to none except the third. to poverty they did not bind themselves; on the contrary they seem to have labored diligently to procure for themselves and those dependent on them the comforts of life. marriage also was allowed them, and most of them seem to have entered into that state. true, their wives were not permitted to reside with them at the institution, but they had a residence assigned to them in an adjacent locality. near lona there is an island which still bears the name of "eilen nam ban," women's island, where their husbands seem to have resided with them, except when duty required their presence in the school or the sanctuary. campbell, in his poem of "reullura," alludes to the married monks of iona: "... the pure culdees were albyn's earliest priests of god, ere yet an island of her seas by foot of saxon monk was trod, long ere her churchmen by bigotry were barred from holy wedlock's tie. 'twas then that aodh, famed afar, in lona preached the word with power, and reullura, beauty's star, was the partner of his bower." in one of his "irish melodies," moore gives the legend of st. senanus and the lady who sought shelter on the island, but was repulsed: "o, haste and leave this sacred isle, unholy bark, ere morning smile; for on thy deck, though dark it be, a female form i see; and i have sworn this sainted sod shall ne'er by woman's foot be trod." in these respects and in others the culdees departed from the established rules of the romish church, and consequently were deemed heretical. the consequence was that as the power of the latter advanced that of the culdees was enfeebled. it was not, however, till the thirteenth centurv that the communities of the culdees were suppressed and the members dispersed. they still continued to labor as individuals, and resisted the inroads of papal usurpation as they best might till the light of the reformation dawned on the world. iona, from its position in the western seas, was exposed to the assaults of the norwegian and danish rovers by whom those seas were infested, and by them it was repeatedly pillaged, its dwellings burned, and its peaceful inhabitants put to the sword. these unfavorable circumstances led to its gradual decline, which was expedited by the subversion of the culdees throughout scotland. under the reign of popery the island became the seat of a nunnery, the ruins of which are still seen. at the reformation, the nuns were allowed to remain, living in community, when the abbey was dismantled. iona is now chiefly resorted to by travellers on account of the numerous ecclesiastical and sepulchral remains which are found upon it. the principal of these are the cathedral or abbey church and the chapel of the nunnery. besides these remains of ecclesiastical antiquity, there are some of an earlier date, and pointing to the existence on the island of forms of worship and belief different from those of christianity. these are the circular cairns which are found in various parts, and which seem to have been of druidical origin. it is in reference to all these remains of ancient religion that johnson exclaims, "that man is little to be envied whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plains of marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer amid the ruins of lona." in the "lord of the isles" scott beautifully contrasts the church on lona with the cave of staffa, opposite: "nature herself, it seemed, would raise a minister to her maker's praise! not for a meaner use ascend her columns, or her arches bend; nor of a theme less solemn tells that mighty surge that ebbs and swells, and still between each awful pause, from the high vault an answer draws, in varied tone, prolonged and high, that mocks the organ's melody; nor doth its entrance front in vain to old iona's holy fane, that nature's voice might seem to say, well hast thou done, frail child of clay! thy humble powers that stately shrine tasked high and hard--but witness mine!" glossary abdalrahman, founder of the independent ommiad (saracenic) power in spain, conquered at tours by charles martel aberfraw, scene of nuptials of branwen and matholch absyrtus, younger brother of medea abydos, a town on the hellespont, nearly opposite to sestos abyla, mount, or columna, a mountain in morocco, near ceuta, now called jebel musa or ape's hill, forming the northwestern extremity of the african coast opposite gibraltar (see pillars of hercules) acestes, son of a trojan woman who was sent by her father to sicily, that she might not be devoured by the monsters which infested the territory of troy acetes, bacchanal captured by pentheus achates, faithful friend and companion of aeneas achelous, river-god of the largest river in greece--his horn of plenty achilles, the hero of the iliad, son of peleus and of the nereid thetis, slain by paris acis, youth loved by galatea and slain by polyphemus acontius, a beautiful youth, who fell in love with cydippe, the daughter of a noble athenian. acrisius, son of abas, king of argos, grandson of lynceus, the great-grandson of danaus. actaeon, a celebrated huntsman, son of aristaeus and autonoe, who, having seen diana bathing, was changed by her to a stag and killed by his own dogs. admeta, daughter of eurystheus, covets hippolyta's girdle. admetus, king of thessaly, saved from death by alcestis adonis, a youth beloved by aphrodite (venus), and proserpine; killed by a boar. adrastus, a king of argos. aeacus, son of zeus (jupiter) and aegina, renowned in all greece for his justice and piety. aeaea, circe's island, visited by ulysses. aeetes, or aeeta, son of helios (the sun) and perseis, and father of medea and absyrtus. aegeus, king of athens. aegina, a rocky island in the middle of the saronic gulf. aegis, shield or breastplate of jupiter and minerva. aegisthus, murderer of agamemnon, slain by orestes. aeneas, trojan hero, son of anchises and aphrodite (venus), and born on mount ida, reputed first settler of rome, aeneid, poem by virgil, relating the wanderings of aeneas from troy to italy, ae'olus, son of hellen and the nymph orseis, represented in homer as the happy ruler of the aeolian islands, to whom zeus had given dominion over the winds, aesculapius, god of the medical art, aeson, father of jason, made young again by medea, aethiopians, inhabitants of the country south of egypt, aethra, mother of theseus by aegeus, aetna, volcano in sicily, agamedes, brother of trophonius, distinguished as an architect, agamemnon, son of plisthenis and grandson of atreus, king of mycenae, although the chief commander of the greeks, is not the hero of the iliad, and in chivalrous spirit altogether inferior to achilles, agave, daughter of cadmus, wife of echion, and mother of pentheus, agenor, father of europa, cadmus, cilix, and phoenix, aglaia, one of the graces, agni, hindu god of fire, agramant, a king in africa, agrican, fabled king of tartary, pursuing angelica, finally killed by orlando, agrivain, one of arthur's knights, ahriman, the evil spirit in the dual system of zoroaster, see ormuzd ajax, son of telamon, king of salamis, and grandson of aeacus, represented in the iliad as second only to achilles in bravery, alba, the river where king arthur fought the romans, alba longa, city in italy founded by son of aeneas, alberich, dwarf guardian of rhine gold treasure of the nibelungs albracca, siege of, alcestis, wife of admetus, offered hersell as sacrifice to spare her husband, but rescued by hercules, alcides (hercules), alcina, enchantress, alcinous, phaeacian king, alcippe, daughter of mars, carried off by halirrhothrus, alcmena, wife of jupiter, and mother of hercules, alcuin, english prelate and scholar, aldrovandus, dwarf guardian of treasure, alecto, one of the furies, alexander the great, king of macedonia, conqueror of greece, egypt, persia, babylonia, and india, alfadur, a name for odin, alfheim, abode of the elves of light, alice, mother of huon and girard, sons of duke sevinus, alphenor, son of niobe, alpheus, river god pursuing arethusa, who escaped by being changed to a fountain, althaea, mother of meleager, whom she slew because he had in a quarrel killed her brothers, thus disgracing "the house of thestius," her father, amalthea, nurse of the infant jupiter in crete, amata, wife of latinus, driven mad by alecto, amaury of hauteville, false hearted knight of charlemagne, amazons, mythical race of warlike women, ambrosia, celestial food used by the gods, ammon, egyptian god of life identified by romans with phases of jupiter, the father of gods, amphiaraus, a great prophet and hero at argos, amphion, a musician, son of jupiter and antiope (see dirce), amphitrite, wife of neptune, amphyrsos, a small river in thessaly, ampyx, assailant of perseus, turned to stone by seeing gorgon's head, amrita, nectar giving immortality, amun, see ammon amymone, one of the fifty daughters of danaus, and mother by poseidon (neptune) of nauplius, the father of palamedes, anaxarete, a maiden of cyprus, who treated her lover iphis with such haughtiness that he hanged himself at her door, anbessa, saracenic governor of spain ( ad), anceus, one of the argonauts, anchises, beloved by aphrodite (venus), by whom he became the father of aeneas, andraemon, husband of dryope, saw her changed into a tree, andret, a cowardly knight, spy upon tristram, andromache, wife of hector andromeda, daughter of king cephas, delivered from monster by perseus aneurin, welsh bard angelica, princess of cathay anemone, short lived wind flower, created by venus from the blood of the slain adonis angerbode, giant prophetess, mother of fenris, hela and the midgard serpent anglesey, a northern british island, refuge of druids fleeing from romans antaeus, giant wrestler of libya, killed by hercules, who, finding him stronger when thrown to the earth, lifted him into the air and strangled him antea, wife of jealous proetus antenor, descendants of, in italy anteros, deity avenging unrequited love, brother of eros (cupid) anthor, a greek antigone, daughter of aedipus, greek ideal of filial and sisterly fidelity antilochus, son of nestor antiope, amazonian queen. see dirce anubis, egyptian god, conductor of the dead to judgment apennines aphrodite see venus, dione, etc. apis, egyptian bull god of memphis apollo, god of music and song apollo belvedere, famous antique statue in vatican at rome apples of the hesperides, wedding gifts to juno, guarded by daughters of atlas and hesperis, stolen by atlas for hercules, aquilo, or boreas, the north wind, aquitaine, ancient province of southwestern france, arachne, a maiden skilled in weaving, changed to a spider by minerva for daring to compete with her, arcadia, a country in the middle of peloponnesus, surrounded on all sides by mountains, arcady, star of, the pole star, arcas, son of jupiter and callisto, archer, constellation of the, areopagus, court of the, at athens, ares, called mars by the romans, the greek god of war, and one of the great olympian gods, arethusa, nymph of diana, changed to a fountain, argius king of ireland, father of isoude the fair, argo, builder of the vessel of jason for the argonautic expedition, argolis, city of the nemean games, argonauts, jason's crew seeking the golden fleece, argos, a kingdom in greece, argus, of the hundred eyes, guardian of io, ariadne, daughter of king minos, who helped theseus slay the minotaur, arimanes see ahriman. arimaspians, one-eyed people of syria, arion, famous musician, whom sailors cast into the sea to rob him, but whose lyric song charmed the dolphins, one of which bore him safely to land, aristaeus, the bee keeper, in love with eurydice, armorica, another name for britain, arridano, a magical ruffian, slain by orlando, artemis see diana arthgallo, brother of elidure, british king, arthur, king in britain about the th century, aruns, an etruscan who killed camilla, asgard, home of the northern gods, ashtaroth, a cruel spirit, called by enchantment to bring rinaldo to death, aske, the first man, made from an ash tree, astolpho of england, one of charlemagne's knights, astraea, goddess of justice, daughter of astraeus and eos, astyages, an assailant of perseus, astyanax, son of hector of troy, established kingdom of messina in italy, asuias, opponents of the braminical gods, atalanta, beautiful daughter of king of icaria, loved and won in a foot race by hippomenes, ate, the goddess of infatuation, mischief and guilt, athamas, son of aeolus and enarete, and king of orchomenus, in boeotia, see ino athene, tutelary goddess of athens, the same as minerva, athens, the capital of attica, about four miles from the sea, between the small rivers cephissus and ilissus, athor, egyptian deity, progenitor of isis and osiris, athos, the mountainous peninsula, also called acte, which projects from chalcidice in macedonia, atlantes, foster father of rogero, a powerful magician, atlantis, according to an ancient tradition, a great island west of the pillars of hercules, in the ocean, opposite mount atlas, atlas, a titan, who bore the heavens on his shoulders, as punishment for opposing the gods, one of the sons of iapetus, atlas, mount, general name for range in northern africa, atropos, one of the fates attica, a state in ancient greece, audhumbla, the cow from which the giant ymir was nursed. her milk was frost melted into raindrops, augean stables, cleansed by hercules, augeas, king of elis, augustan age, reign of roman emperor augustus caesar, famed for many great authors, augustus, the first imperial caesar, who ruled the roman empire bc-- ad, aulis, port in boeotia, meeting place of greek expedition against troy, aurora, identical with eos, goddess of the dawn, aurora borealis, splendid nocturnal luminosity in northern sky, called northern lights, probably electrical, autumn, attendant of phoebus, the sun, avalon, land of the blessed, an earthly paradise in the western seas, burial place of king arthur, avatar, name for any of the earthly incarnations of vishnu, the preserver (hindu god), aventine, mount, one of the seven hills of rome, avernus, a miasmatic lake close to the promontory between cumae and puteoli, filling the crater of an extinct volcano, by the ancients thought to be the entrance to the infernal regions, avicenna, celebrated arabian physician and philosopher, aya, mother of rinaldo, aymon, duke, father of rinaldo and bradamante, b baal, king of tyre, babylonian river, dried up when phaeton drove the sun chariot, bacchanali a, a feast to bacchus that was permitted to occur but once in three years, attended by most shameless orgies, bacchanals, devotees and festal dancers of bacchus, bacchus (dionysus), god of wine and revelry, badon, battle of, arthur's final victory over the saxons, bagdemagus, king, a knight of arthur's time, baldur, son of odin, and representing in norse mythology the sun god, balisardo, orlando's sword, ban, king of brittany, ally of arthur, father of launcelot, bards, minstrels of welsh druids, basilisk see cockatrice baucis, wife of philemon, visited by jupiter and mercury, bayard, wild horse subdued by rinaldo, beal, druids' god of life, bedivere, arthur's knight, bedver, king arthur's butler, made governor of normandy, bedwyr, knightly comrade of geraint, belisarda, rogero's sword, bellerophon, demigod, conqueror of the chimaera, bellona, the roman goddess of war, represented as the sister or wife of mars, beltane, druidical fire festival, belus, son of poseidon (neptune) and libya or eurynome, twin brother of agenor, bendigeid vran, king of britain, beowulf, hero and king of the swedish geats, beroe, nurse of semele, bertha, mother of orlando, bifrost, rainbow bridge between the earth and asgard bladud, inventor, builder of the city of bath, blamor, a knight of arthur, bleoberis, a knight of arthur, boeotia, state in ancient greece, capital city thebes, bohort, king, a knight of arthur, bona dea, a roman divinity of fertility, bootes, also called areas, son of jupiter and calisto, changed to constellation of ursa major, boreas, north wind, son of aeolus and aurora, bosporus (bosphorus), the cow-ford, named for io, when as a heifer she crossed that strait, bradamante, sister to rinaldo, a female warrior, brademagus, king, father of sir maleagans, bragi, norse god of poetry, brahma, the creator, chief god of hindu religion, branwen, daughter of llyr, king of britain, wife of mathclch, breciliande, forest of, where vivian enticed merlin, brengwain, maid of isoude the fair brennus, son of molmutius, went to gaul, became king of the allobroges, breuse, the pitiless, a caitiff knight, briareus, hundred armed giant, brice, bishop, sustainer of arthur when elected king, brigliadoro, orlando's horse, briseis, captive maid belonging to achilles, britto, reputed ancestor of british people, bruhier, sultan of arabia, brunello, dwarf, thief, and king brunhild, leader of the valkyrie, brutus, great grandson of aeneas, and founder of city of new troy (london), see pandrasus bryan, sir, a knight of arthur, buddha, called the enlightened, reformer of brahmanism, deified teacher of self abnegation, virtue, reincarnation, karma (inevitable sequence of every act), and nirvana (beatific absorption into the divine), lived about byblos, in egypt, byrsa, original site of carthage, c cacus, gigantic son of vulcan, slain by hercules, whose captured cattle he stole, cadmus, son of agenor, king of phoenicia, and of telephassa, and brother of europa, who, seeking his sister, carried off by jupiter, had strange adventures--sowing in the ground teeth of a dragon he had killed, which sprang up armed men who slew each other, all but five, who helped cadmus to found the city of thebes, caduceus, mercury's staff, cadwallo, king of venedotia (north wales), caerleon, traditional seat of arthur's court, caesar, julius, roman lawyer, general, statesman and author, conquered and consolidated roman territory, making possible the empire, caicus, a greek river, cairns, druidical store piles, calais, french town facing england, calchas, wisest soothsayer among the greeks at troy, caliburn, a sword of arthur, calliope, one of the nine muses callisto, an arcadian nymph, mother of arcas (see bootes), changed by jupiter to constellation ursa minor, calpe, a mountain in the south of spain, on the strait between the atlantic and mediterranean, now rock of gibraltar, calydon, home of meleager, calypso, queen of island of ogyia, where ulysses was wrecked and held seven years, camber, son of brutus, governor of west albion (wales), camelot, legendary place in england where arthur's court and palace were located, camenae, prophetic nymphs, belonging to the religion of ancient italy, camilla, volscian maiden, huntress and amazonian warrior, favorite of diana, camlan, battle of, where arthur was mortally wounded, canterbury, english city, capaneus, husband of evadne, slain by jupiter for disobedience, capet, hugh, king of france ( - ad), caradoc briefbras, sir, great nephew of king arthur, carahue, king of mauretania, carthage, african city, home of dido cassandra, daughter of priam and hecuba, and twin sister of helenus, a prophetess, who foretold the coming of the greeks but was not believed, cassibellaunus, british chieftain, fought but not conquered by caesar, cassiopeia, mother of andromeda, castalia, fountain of parnassus, giving inspiration to oracular priestess named pythia, castalian cave, oracle of apollo, castes (india), castor and pollux--the dioscuri, sons of jupiter and leda,-- castor a horseman, pollux a boxer (see gemini), caucasus, mount cavall, arthur's favorite dog, cayster, ancient river, cebriones, hector's charioteer, cecrops, first king of athens, celestials, gods of classic mythology, celeus, shepherd who sheltered ceres, seeking proserpine, and whose infant son triptolemus was in gratitude made great by ceres, cellini, benvenuto, famous italian sculptor and artificer in metals, celtic nations, ancient gauls and britons, modern bretons, welsh, irish and gaelic scotch, centaurs, originally an ancient race, inhabiting mount pelion in thessaly, in later accounts represented as half horses and half men, and said to have been the offspring of ixion and a cloud, cephalus, husband of beautiful but jealous procris, cephe us, king of ethiopians, father of andromeda, cephisus, a grecian stream, cerberus, three-headed dog that guarded the entrance to hades, called a son of typhaon and echidna ceres (see demeter) cestus, the girdle of venus ceyx, king of thessaly (see halcyone) chaos, original confusion, personified by greeks as most ancient of the gods charlemagne, king of the franks and emperor of the romans charles martel', king of the franks, grandfather of charlemagne, called martel (the hammer) from his defeat of the saracens at tours charlot, son of charlemagne charon, son of erebos, conveyed in his boat the shades of the dead across the rivers of the lower world charyb'dis, whirlpool near the coast of sicily, see scylla chimaera, a fire breathing monster, the fore part of whose body was that of a lion, the hind part that of a dragon, and the middle that of a goat, slain by bellerophon china, lamas (priests) of chos, island in the grecian archipelago chiron, wisest of all the centaurs, son of cronos (saturn) and philyra, lived on mount pelion, instructor of grecian heroes chryseis, trojan maid, taken by agamemnon chryses, priest of apollo, father of chryseis ciconians, inhabitants of ismarus, visited by ulysses cimbri, an ancient people of central europe cimmeria, a land of darkness cimon, athenian general circe, sorceress, sister of aeetes cithaeron, mount, scene of bacchic worship clarimunda, wife of huon clio, one of the muses cloridan, a moor clotho, one of the fates clymene, an ocean nymph clytemnestra, wife of agamemnon, killed by orestes clytie, a water nymph, in love with apollo cnidos, ancient city of asia minor, seat of worship of aphrodite (venus) cockatrice (or basilisk), called king of serpents, supposed to kill with its look cocytus, a river of hades colchis, a kingdom east of the black sea colophon, one of the seven cities claiming the birth of homer columba, st, an irish christian missionary to druidical parts of scotland conan, welsh king constantine, greek emperor cordeilla, daughter of the mythical king leir corineus, a trojan warrior in albion cornwall, southwest part of britain cortana, ogier's sword corybantes, priests of cybele, or rhea, in phrygia, who celebrated her worship with dances, to the sound of the drum and the cymbal, crab, constellation cranes and their enemies, the pygmies, of ibycus creon, king of thebes crete, one of the largest islands of the mediterranean sea, lying south of the cyclades creusa, daughter of priam, wife of aeneas crocale, a nymph of diana cromlech, druidical altar cronos, see saturn crotona, city of italy cuchulain, irish hero, called the "hound of ireland," culdees', followers of st. columba, cumaean sibyl, seeress of cumae, consulted by aeneas, sold sibylline books to tarquin cupid, child of venus and god of love curoi of kerry, wise man cyane, river, opposed pluto's passage to hades cybele (rhea) cyclopes, creatures with circular eyes, of whom homer speaks as a gigantic and lawless race of shepherds in sicily, who devoured human beings, they helped vulcan to forge the thunderbolts of zeus under aetna cymbeline, king of ancient britain cynosure (dog's tail), the pole star, at tail of constellation ursa minor cynthian mountain top, birthplace of artemis (diana) and apollo cyprus, island off the coast of syria, sacred to aphrodite cyrene, a nymph, mother of aristaeus daedalus, architect of the cretan labyrinth, inventor of sails daguenet, king arthur's fool dalai lama, chief pontiff of thibet danae, mother of perseus by jupiter danaides, the fifty daughters of danaus, king of argos, who were betrothed to the fifty sons of aegyptus, but were commanded by their father to slay each her own husband on the marriage night danaus (see danaides) daphne, maiden loved by apollo, and changed into a laurel tree dardanelles, ancient hellespont dardanus, progenitor of the trojan kings dardinel, prince of zumara dawn, see aurora day, an attendant on phoebus, the sun day star (hesperus) death, see hela deiphobus, son of priam and hecuba, the bravest brother of paris dejanira, wife of hercules delos, floating island, birthplace of apollo and diana delphi, shrine of apollo, famed for its oracles demeter, greek goddess of marriage and human fertility, identified by romans with ceres demeha, south wales demodocus, bard of alomous, king of the phaeaeians deucalion, king of thessaly, who with his wife pyrrha were the only pair surviving a deluge sent by zeus dia, island of diana (artemis), goddess of the moon and of the chase, daughter of jupiter and latona diana of the hind, antique sculpture in the louvre, paris diana, temple of dictys, a sailor didier, king of the lombards dido, queen of tyre and carthage, entertained the shipwrecked aeneas diomede, greek hero during trojan war dione, female titan, mother of zeus, of aphrodite (venus) dionysus see bacchus dioscuri, the twins (see castor and pollux) dirce, wife of lycus, king of thebes, who ordered amphion and zethus to tie antiope to a wild bull, but they, learning antiope to be their mother, so treated dirce herself dis see pluto discord, apple of, see eris. discordia, see eris. dodona, site of an oracle of zeus (jupiter) dorceus, a dog of diana doris, wife of nereus dragon's teeth sown by cadmus druids, ancient celtic priests dryades (or dryads), see wood nymphs dryope, changed to a lotus plant, for plucking a lotus--enchanted form of the nymph lotis dubricius, bishop of caerleon, dudon, a knight, comrade of astolpho, dunwallo molmu'tius, british king and lawgiver durindana, sword of orlando or rinaldo dwarfs in wagner's nibelungen ring e earth (gaea); goddess of the ebudians, the echo, nymph of diana, shunned by narcissus, faded to nothing but a voice ecklenlied, the eddas, norse mythological records, ederyn, son of nudd egena, nymph of the fountain eisteddfod, session of welsh bards and minstrels electra, the lost one of the pleiades, also, sister of orestes eleusian mysteries, instituted by ceres, and calculated to awaken feelings of piety and a cheerful hope of better life in the future eleusis, grecian city elgin marbles, greek sculptures from the parthenon of athens, now in british museum, london, placed there by lord elgin eliaures, enchanter elidure, a king of britain elis, ancient greek city elli, old age; the one successful wrestler against thor elphin, son of gwyddiro elves, spiritual beings, of many powers and dispositions--some evil, some good elvidnir, the ball of hela elysian fields, the land of the blest elysian plain, whither the favored of the gods were taken without death elysium, a happy land, where there is neither snow, nor cold, nor ram. hither favored heroes, like menelaus, pass without dying, and live happy under the rule of rhadamanthus. in the latin poets elysium is part of the lower world, and the residence of the shades of the blessed embla, the first woman enseladus, giant defeated by jupiter endymion, a beautiful youth beloved by diana enid, wife of geraint enna, vale of home of proserpine enoch, the patriarch epidaurus, a town in argolis, on the saronic gulf, chief seat of the worship of aeculapius, whose temple was situated near the town epimetheus, son of iapetus, husband of pandora, with his brother prometheus took part in creation of man epirus, country to the west of thessaly, lying along the adriatic sea epopeus, a sailor erato, one of the muses erbin of cornwall, father of geraint erebus, son of chaos, region of darkness, entrance to hades eridanus, river erinys, one of the furies eriphyle, sister of polynices, bribed to decide on war, in which her husband was slain eris (discordia), goddess of discord. at the wedding of peleus and thetis, eris being uninvited threw into the gathering an apple "for the fairest," which was claimed by hera (juno), aphrodite (venus) and athena (minerva) paris, being called upon for judgment, awarded it to aphrodite erisichthon, an unbeliever, punished by famine eros see cupid erytheia, island eryx, a mount, haunt of venus esepus, river in paphlagonia estrildis, wife of locrine, supplanting divorced guendolen eteocles, son of oeipus and jocasta etruscans, ancient people of italy, etzel, king of the huns euboic sea, where hercules threw lichas, who brought him the poisoned shirt of nessus eude, king of aquitaine, ally of charles martel eumaeus, swineherd of aeeas eumenides, also called erinnyes, and by the romans furiae or diraae, the avenging deities, see furies euphorbus, a trojan, killed by menelaus euphros'yne, one of the graces europa, daughter of the phoenician king agenor, by zeus the mother of minos, rhadamanthus, and sarpedon eurus, the east wind euyalus, a gallant trojan soldier, who with nisus entered the grecian camp, both being slain, eurydice, wife of orpheus, who, fleeing from an admirer, was killed by a snake and borne to tartarus, where orpheus sought her and was permitted to bring her to earth if he would not look back at her following him, but he did, and she returned to the shades, eurylochus, a companion of ulysses, eurynome, female titan, wife of ophlon eurystheus, taskmaster of hercules, eurytion, a centaur (see hippodamia), euterpe, muse who presided over music, evadne, wife of capaneus, who flung herself upon his funeral pile and perished with him evander, arcadian chief, befriending aeneas in italy, evnissyen, quarrelsome brother of branwen, excalibar, sword of king arthur, f fafner, a giant turned dragon, treasure stealer, by the solar theory simply the darkness who steals the day, falerina, an enchantress, fasolt, a giant, brother of fafner, and killed by him, "fasti," ovid's, a mythological poetic calendar, fata morgana, a mirage fates, the three, described as daughters of night--to indicate the darkness and obscurity of human destiny--or of zeus and themis, that is, "daughters of the just heavens" they were clo'tho, who spun the thread of life, lach'esis, who held the thread and fixed its length and at'ropos, who cut it off fauns, cheerful sylvan deities, represented in human form, with small horns, pointed ears, and sometimes goat's tail faunus, son of picus, grandson of saturnus, and father of latinus, worshipped as the protecting deity of agriculture and of shepherds, and also as a giver of oracles favonius, the west wind fear fenris, a wolf, the son of loki the evil principle of scandinavia, supposed to have personated the element of fire, destructive except when chained fensalir, freya's palace, called the hall of the sea, where were brought together lovers, husbands, and wives who had been separated by death ferragus, a giant, opponent of orlando ferrau, one of charlemagne's knights ferrex. brother of porrex, the two sons of leir fire worshippers, of ancient persia, see parsees flollo, roman tribune in gaul flora, roman goddess of flowers and spring flordelis, fair maiden beloved by florismart florismart, sir, a brave knight, flosshilda, one of the rhine daughters fortunate fields fortunate islands (see elysian plain) forum, market place and open square for public meetings in rome, surrounded by court houses, palaces, temples, etc francus, son of histion, grandson of japhet, great grandson of noah, legendary ancestor of the franks, or french freki, one of odin's two wolves frey, or freyr, god of the sun freya, norse goddess of music, spring, and flowers fricka, goddess of marriage frigga, goddess who presided over smiling nature, sending sunshine, rain, and harvest froh, one of the norse gods fronti'no, rogero's horse furies (erinnyes), the three retributive spirits who punished crime, represented as snaky haired old woman, named alecto, megaeira, and tisiphone fusberta, rinaldo's sword g gaea, or ge, called tellus by the romans, the personification of the earth, described as the first being that sprang fiom chaos, and gave birth to uranus (heaven) and pontus (sea) gahariet, knight of arthur's court gaheris, knight galafron, king of cathay, father of angelica galahad, sir, the pure knight of arthur's round table, who safely took the siege perilous (which see) galatea, a nereid or sea nymph galatea, statue carved and beloved by pygmalion galen, greek physician and philosophical writer gallehant, king of the marches games, national athletic contests in greece--olympian, at olympia, pythian, near delphi, seat of apollo's oracle, isthmian, on the corinthian isthmus, nemean, at nemea in argolis gan, treacherous duke of maganza ganelon of mayence, one of charlemagne's knights ganges, river in india gano, a peer of charlemagne ganymede, the most beautiful of all mortals, carried off to olympus that he might fill the cup of zeus and live among the immortal gods gareth, arthur's knight gaudisso, sultan gaul, ancient france gautama, prince, the buddha gawain, arthur's knight gawl, son of clud, suitor for rhiannon gemini (see castor), constellation created by jupiter from the twin brothers after death, genghis khan, tartar conqueror genius, in roman belief, the protective spirit of each individual man, see juno geoffrey of mon'mouth, translator into latin of the welsh history of the kings of britain ( ) geraint, a knight of king arthur gerda, wife of frey geri, one of odin's two wolves geryon, a three bodied monster gesnes, navigator sent for isoude the fair giallar horn, the trumpet that heimdal will blow at the judgment day giants, beings of monstrous size and of fearful countenances, represented as in constant opposition to the gods, in wagner's nibelungen ring gibichung race, ancestors of alberich gibraltar, great rock and town at southwest corner of spain (see pillars of hercules) gildas, a scholar of arthur's court girard, son of duke sevinus glastonbury, where arthur died glaucus, a fisherman, loving scylla gleipnir, magical chain on the wolf fenris glewlwyd, arthur's porter golden fleece, of ram used for escape of children of athamas, named helle and phryxus (which see), after sacrifice of ram to jupiter, fleece was guarded by sleepless dragon and gained by jason and argonauts (which see, also helle) goneril, daughter of leir gordian knot, tying up in temple the wagon of gordius, he who could untie it being destined to be lord of asia, it was cut by alexander the great, gordius, a countryman who, arriving in phrygia in a wagon, was made king by the people, thus interpreting an oracle, gorgons, three monstrous females, with huge teeth, brazen claws and snakes for hair, sight of whom turned beholders to stone, medusa, the most famous, slain by perseus gorlois, duke of tintadel gouvernail, squire of isabella, queen of lionesse, protector of her son tristram while young, and his squire in knighthood graal, the holy, cup from which the saviour drank at last supper, taken by joseph of arimathea to europe, and lost, its recovery becoming a sacred quest for arthur's knights graces, three goddesses who enhanced the enjoyments of life by refinement and gentleness; they were aglaia (brilliance), euphrosyne (joy), and thalia (bloom) gradas'so, king of sericane graeae, three gray haired female watchers for the gorgons, with one movable eye and one tooth between the three grand lama, buddhist pontiff in thibet grendel, monster slain by beowulf gryphon (griffin), a fabulous animal, with the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle, dwelling in the rhipaean mountains, between the hyperboreans and the one eyed arimaspians, and guarding the gold of the north, guebers, persian fire worshippers, guendolen, wife of locrine, guenevere, wife of king arthur, beloved by launcelot, guerin, lord of vienne, father of oliver, guiderius, son of cymbeline, guillamurius, king in ireland, guimier, betrothed of caradoc, gullinbursti, the boar drawing frey's car, gulltopp, heimdell's horse, gunfasius, king of the orkneys, ganther, burgundian king, brother of kriemhild, gutrune, half sister to hagen, gwern son of matholch and branwen, gwernach the giant, gwiffert petit, ally of geraint, gwyddno, garanhir, king of gwaelod, gwyr, judge in the court of arthur, gyoll, river, h hades, originally the god of the nether world--the name later used to designate the gloomy subterranean land of the dead, haemon, son of creon of thebes, and lover of antigone, haemonian city, haemus, mount, northern boundary of thrace, hagan, a principal character in the nibelungen lied, slayer of siegfried, halcyone, daughter of aeneas, and the beloved wife of ceyx, who, when he was drowned, flew to his floating body, and the pitying gods changed them both to birds (kingfishers), who nest at sea during a certain calm week in winter ("halcyon weather") hamadryads, tree-nymphs or wood-nymphs, see nymphs harmonia, daughter of mars and venus, wife of cadmus haroun al raschid, caliph of arabia, contemporary of charlemagne harpies, monsters, with head and bust of woman, but wings, legs and tail of birds, seizing souls of the wicked, or punishing evildoers by greedily snatching or defiling their food harpocrates, egyptian god, horus hebe, daughter of juno, cupbearer to the gods hebrus, ancient name of river maritzka hecate, a mighty and formidable divinity, supposed to send at night all kinds of demons and terrible phantoms from the lower world hector, son of priam and champion of troy hector, one of arthur's knights hector de marys', a knight hecuba, wife of priam, king of troy, to whom she bore hector, paris, and many other children hegira, flight of mahomet from mecca to medina ( ad), era from which mahometans reckon time, as we do from the birth of christ heidrun, she goat, furnishing mead for slain heroes in valhalla heimdall, watchman of the gods hel, the lower world of scandinavia, to which were consigned those who had not died in battle hela (death), the daughter of loki and the mistress of the scandinavian hel helen, daughter of jupiter and leda, wife of menelaus, carried off by paris and cause of the trojan war helenus, son of priam and hecuba, celebrated for his prophetic powers heliades, sisters of phaeton helicon, mount, in greece, residence of apollo and the muses, with fountains of poetic inspiration, aganippe and hippocrene helioopolis, city of the sun, in egypt hellas, gieece helle, daughter of thessalian king athamas, who, escaping from cruel father with her brother phryxus, on ram with golden fleece, fell into the sea strait since named for her (see golden fleece) hellespont, narrow strait between europe and asia minor, named for helle hengist, saxon invader of britain, ad hephaestos, see vulcan hera, called juno by the romans, a daughter of cronos (saturn) and rhea, and sister and wife of jupiter, see juno hercules, athletic hero, son of jupiter and alcmena, achieved twelve vast labors and many famous deeds hereward the wake, hero of the saxons hermes (mercury), messenger of the gods, deity of commerce, science, eloquence, trickery, theft, and skill generally hermione, daughter of menelaus and helen hermod, the nimble, son of odin hero, a priestess of venus, beloved of leander herodotus, greek historian hesiod, greek poet hesperia, ancient name for italy hesperides (see apples of the hesperides) hesperus, the evening star (also called day star) hestia, cilled vesta by the romans, the goddess of the hearth hildebrand, german magician and champion hindu triad, brahma, vishnu, and siva hippocrene (see helicon) hippodamia, wife of pirithous, at whose wedding the centaurs offered violence to the bride, causing a great battle hippogriff, winged horse, with eagle's head and claws hippolyta, queen of the amazons hippolytus, son of thesus hippomenes, who won atalanta in foot race, beguiling her with golden apples thrown for her to histion, son of japhet hodur, blind man, who, fooled by loki, threw a mistletoe twig at baldur, killing him hoel, king of brittany homer, the blind poet of greece, about b c hope (see pandora) horae see hours horsa, with hengist, invader of britain horus, egyptian god of the sun houdain, tristram's dog hringham, baldur's ship hrothgar, king of denmark hugi, who beat thialfi in foot races hugin, one of odin's two ravens hunding, husband of sieglinda huon, son of duke sevinus hyacinthus, a youth beloved by apollo, and accidentally killed by him, changed in death to the flower, hyacinth hyades, nysaean nymphs, nurses of infant bacchus, rewarded by being placed as cluster of stars in the heavens hyale, a nymph of diana hydra, nine headed monster slain by hercules hygeia, goddess of health, daughter of aesculapius hylas, a youth detained by nymphs of spring where he sought water hymen, the god of marriage, imagined as a handsome youth and invoked in bridal songs hymettus, mountain in attica, near athens, celebrated for its marble and its honey hyperboreans, people of the far north hyperion, a titan, son of uranus and ge, and father of helios, selene, and eos, cattle of, hyrcania, prince of, betrothed to clarimunda hyrieus, king in greece, i iapetus, a titan, son of uranus and ge, and father of atlas, prometheus, epimetheus, and menoetius, iasius, father of atalanta ibycus, a poet, story of, and the cranes icaria, island of the aegean sea, one of the sporades icarius, spartan prince, father of penelope icarus, son of daedalus, he flew too near the sun with artificial wings, and, the wax melting, he fell into the sea icelos, attendant of morpheus icolumkill see iona ida, mount, a trojan hill idaeus, a trojan herald idas, son of aphareus and arene, and brother of lynceus idu'na, wife of bragi igerne, wife of gorlois, and mother, by uther, of arthur iliad, epic poem of the trojan war, by homer ilioheus, a son of niobe ilium see troy illyria, adriatic countries north of greece imogen, daughter of pandrasus, wife of trojan brutus inachus, son of oceanus and tethys, and father of phoroneus and io, also first king of argos, and said to have given his name to the river inachus incubus, an evil spirit, supposed to lie upon persons in their sleep indra, hindu god of heaven, thunder, lightning, storm and rain ino, wife of athamas, fleeing from whom with infant son she sprang into the sea and was changed to leucothea io, changed to a heifer by jupiter iobates, king of lycia iolaus, servant of hercules iole, sister of dryope iona, or icolmkill, a small northern island near scotland, where st columba founded a missionary monastery ( ad) ionia, coast of asia minor iphigenia, daughter of agamemnon, offered as a sacrifice but carried away by diana iphis, died for love of anaxarete, iphitas, friend of hercules, killed by him iris, goddess of the rainbow, messenger of juno and zeus ironside, arthur's knight isabella, daughter of king of galicia isis, wife of osiris, described as the giver of death isles of the blessed ismarus, first stop of ulysses, returning from trojan war isme'nos, a son of niobe, slain by apollo isolier, friend of rinaldo isoude the fair, beloved of tristram isoude of the white hands, married to tristram isthmian games, see games ithaca, home of ulysses and penelope iulus, son of aeneas ivo, saracen king, befriending rinaldo ixion, once a sovereign of thessaly, sentenced in tartarus to be lashed with serpents to a wheel which a strong wind drove continually around j janiculum, roman fortress on the janiculus, a hill on the other side of the tiber janus, a deity from the earliest times held in high estimation by the romans, temple of japhet (iapetus) jason, leader of the argonauts, seeking the golden fleece joseph of arimathea, who bore the holy graal to europe jotunheim, home of the giants in northern mythology jove (zeus), chief god of roman and grecian mythology, see jupiter joyous garde, residence of sir launcelot of the lake juggernaut, hindu deity juno, the particular guardian spirit of each woman (see genius) juno, wife of jupiter, queen of the gods jupiter, jovis pater, father jove, jupiter and jove used interchangeably, at dodona, statue of the olympian jupiter ammon (see ammon) jupiter capitolinus, temple of, preserving the sibylline books justice, see themis k kadyriath, advises king arthur kai, son of kyner kalki, tenth avatar of vishnu kay, arthur's steward and a knight kedalion, guide of orion kerman, desert of kicva, daughter of gwynn gloy kilwich, son of kilydd kilydd, son of prince kelyddon, of wales kneph, spirit or breath knights, training and life of kriemhild, wife of siegfried krishna, eighth avatar of vishnu, hindu deity of fertility in nature and mankind kyner, father of kav kynon, son of clydno l labyrinth, the enclosed maze of passageways where roamed the minotaur of crete, killed by theseus with aid of ariadne lachesis, one of the fates (which see) lady of the fountain, tale told by kynon laertes, father of ulysses laestrygonians, savages attacking ulysses laius, king of thebes lama, holy man of thibet lampetia, daughter of hyperion laoc'oon, a priest of neptune, in troy, who warned the trojans against the wooden horse (which see), but when two serpents came out of the sea and strangled him and his two sons, the people listened to the greek spy sinon, and brought the fatal horse into the town laodamia, daughter of acastus and wife of protesilaus laodegan, king of carmalide, helped by arthur and merlin laomedon, king of troy lapithae, thessalonians, whose king had invited the centaurs to his daughter's wedding but who attacked them for offering violence to the bride lares, household deities larkspur, flower from the blood of ajax latinus, ruler of latium, where aeneas landed in italy latmos, mount, where diana fell in love with endymion latona, mother of apollo launcelot, the most famous knight of the round table lausus, son of mezentius, killed by aeneas lavinia, daughter of latinus and wife of aeneas lavinium, italian city named for lavinia law, see themis leander, a youth of abydos, who, swimming the hellespont to see hero, his love, was drowned lebadea, site of the oracle of trophomus lebynthos, aegean island leda, queen of sparta, wooed by jupiter in the form of a swan leir, mythical king of britain, original of shakespeare's lear lelaps, dog of cephalus lemnos, large island in the aegean sea, sacred to vulcan lemures, the spectres or spirits of the dead leo, roman emperor, greek prince lethe, river of hades, drinking whose water caused forgetfulness leucadia, a promontory, whence sappho, disappointed in love, was said to have thrown herself into the sea leucothea, a sea goddess, invoked by sailors for protection (see ino) lewis, son of charlemagne liber, ancient god of fruitfulness libethra, burial place of orpheus libya, greek name for continent of africa in general libyan desert, in africa libyan oasis lichas, who brought the shirt of nessus to hercules limours, earl of linus, musical instructor of hercules lionel, knight of the round table llyr, king of britain locrine, son of brutus in albion, king of central england loegria, kingdom of (england) logestilla, a wise lady, who entertained rogero and his friends logi, who vanquished loki in an eating contest loki, the satan of norse mythology, son of the giant farbanti lot, king, a rebel chief, subdued by king arthur, then a loyal knight lotis, a nymph, changed to a lotus-plant and in that form plucked by dryope lotus eaters, soothed to indolence, companions of ulysses landing among them lost all memory of home and had to be dragged away before they would continue their voyage love (eros) issued from egg of night, and with arrows and torch produced life and joy lucan, one of arthur's knights lucius tiberius, roman procurator in britain demanding tribute from arthur lud, british king, whose capital was called lud's town (london) ludgate, city gate where lud was buried, luned, maiden who guided owain to the lady of the fountain lycahas, a turbulent sailor lycaon, son of priam lycia, a district in southern asia minor lycomodes, king of the dolopians, who treacherously slew theseus lycus, usurping king of thebes lynceus, one of the sons of aegyptus m mabinogeon, plural of mabinogi, fairy tales and romances of the welsh mabon, son of modron machaon, son of aesculapius madan, son of guendolen madoc, a forester of king arthur mador, scottish knight maelgan, king who imprisoned elphin maeonia, ancient lydia magi, persian priests mahadeva, same as siva mahomet, great prophet of arabia, born in mecca, ad, proclaimed worship of god instead of idols, spread his religion through disciples and then by force till it prevailed, with arabian dominion, over vast regions in asia, africa, and spain in europe maia, daughter of atlas and pleione, eldest and most beautiful of the pleiades malagigi the enchanter, one of charlemagne's knights maleagans, false knight malvasius, king of iceland mambrino, with invisible helmet manawyd dan, brother of king vran, of london mandricardo, son of agrican mantua, in italy, birthplace of virgil manu, ancestor of mankind marathon, where theseus and pirithous met mark, king of cornwall, husband of isoude the fair maro see virgil marphisa, sister of rogero marsilius, spanish king, treacherous foe of charlemagne marsyas, inventor of the flute, who challenged apollo to musical competition, and, defeated, was flayed alive matsya, the fish, first avatar of vishnu meander, grecian river mede, a, princess and sorceress who aided jason medoro, a young moor, who wins angelica medusa, one of the gorgons megaera, one of the furies melampus, a spartan dog, the first mortal endowed with prophetic powers melanthus, steersman for bacchus meleager, one of the argonauts (see althaea) meliadus, king of lionesse, near cornwall melicertes, infant son of ino. changed to palaemon (see ino, leucothea, and palasmon) melissa, priestess at merlin's tomb melisseus, a cretan king melpomene, one of the muses memnon, the beautiful son of tithonus and eos (aurora), and king of the ethiopians, slain in trojan war memphis, egyptian city menelaus, son of king of sparta, husband of helen menoeceus, son of creon, voluntary victim in war to gain success for his father mentor, son of alcimus and a faithful friend of ulysses mercury (see hermes) merlin, enchanter merope, daughter of king of chios, beloved by orion mesmerism, likened to curative oracle of aesculapius at epidaurus metabus, father of camilla metamorphoses, ovid's poetical legends of mythical transformations, a large source of our knowledge of classic mythology metanira, a mother, kind to ceres seeking proserpine metempsychosis, transmigration of souls--rebirth of dying men and women in forms of animals or human beings metis, prudence, a spouse of jupiter mezentius, a brave but cruel soldier, opposing aeneas in italy midas midgard, the middle world of the norsemen midgard serpent, a sea monster, child of loki milky way, starred path across the sky, believed to be road to palace of the gods milo, a great athlete mlon, father of orlando milton, john, great english poet, whose history of england is here largely used mime, one of the chief dwarfs of ancient german mythology minerva (athene), daughter of jupiter, patroness of health, learning, and wisdom minos, king of crete mino taur, monster killed by theseus mistletoe, fatal to baldur mnemosyne, one of the muses modesty, statue to modred, nephew of king arthur moly, plant, powerful against sorcery momus, a deity whose delight was to jeer bitterly at gods and men monad, the "unit" of pythagoras monsters, unnatural beings, evilly disposed to men montalban, rinaldo's castle month, the, attendant upon the sun moon, goddess of, see diana moraunt, knight, an irish champion morgana, enchantress, the lady of the lake in "orlando furioso," same as morgane le fay in tales of arthur morgane le fay, queen of norway, king arthur's sister, an enchantress morgan tud, arthur's chief physician morpheus, son of sleep and god of dreams morte d'arthur, romance, by sir thomas mallory mulciber, latin name of vulcan mull, island of munin, one of odin's two ravens musaeus, sacred poet, son of orpheus muses, the, nine goddesses presiding over poetry, etc--calliope, epic poetry, clio, history, erato, love poetry, euterpe, lyric poetry; melpomene, tragedy, polyhymnia, oratory and sacred song terpsichore, choral song and dance, thalia, comedy and idyls, urania, astronomy muspelheim, the fire world of the norsemen mycenas, ancient grecian city, of which agamemnon was king myrddin (merlin) myrmidons, bold soldiers of achilles mysia, greek district on northwest coast of asia minor mythology, origin of, collected myths, describing gods of early peoples n naiads, water nymphs namo, duke of bavaria, one of charlemagne's knights nanna, wife of baldur nanters, british king nantes, site of caradoc's castle nape, a dog of diana narcissus, who died of unsatisfied love for his own image in the water nausicaa, daughter of king alcinous, who befriended ulysses nausithous, king of phaeacians naxos, island of negus, king of abyssinia nemea, forest devastated by a lion killed by hercules nemean games, held in honor of jupiter and hercules nemean lion, killed by hercules nemesis, goddess of vengeance nennius, british combatant of caesar neoptolemus, son of achilles nepenthe, ancient drug to cause forgetfulness of pain or distress nephele, mother of phryxus and helle nephthys, egyptian goddess neptune, identical with poseidon, god of the sea nereids, sea nymphs, daughters of nereus and doris nereus, a sea god nessus, a centaur killed by hercules, whose jealous wife sent him a robe or shirt steeped in the blood of nessus, which poisoned him nestor, king of pylos, renowned for his wisdom, justice, and knowledge of war nibelungen hoard, treasure seized by siegfried from the nibelungs, buried in the rhine by hagan after killing siegfried, and lost when hagan was killed by kriemhild, theme of wagner's four music dramas, "the ring of the nibelungen," nibelungen lied, german epic, giving the same nature myth as the norse volsunga saga, concerning the hoard nibelungen ring, wagner's music dramas nibelungs, the, a race of northern dwarfs nidhogge, a serpent in the lower world that lives on the dead niffleheim, mist world of the norsemen, the hades of absent spirits nile, egyptian river niobe, daughter of tantalus, proud queen of thebes, whose seven sons and seven daughters were killed by apollo and diana, at which amphion, her husband, killed himself, and niobe wept until she was turned to stone nisus, king of megara noah, as legendary ancestor of french, roman, german, and british peoples noman, name assumed by ulysses norns, the three scandinavian fates, urdur (the past), verdandi (the present), and skuld (the future) nothung, magic sword notus, southwest wind nox, daughter of chaos and sister of erebus, personification of night numa, second king of rome nymphs, beautiful maidens, lesser divinities of nature dryads and hamadryads, tree nymphs, naiads, spring, brook, and river nymphs, nereids, sea nymphs oreads, mountain nymphs or hill nymphs o oceanus, a titan, ruling watery elements ocyroe, a prophetess, daughter of chiron oderic odin, chief of the norse gods odyar, famous biscayan hero odysseus see ulysses odyssey, homer's poem, relating the wanderings of odysseus (ulysses) on returning from trojan war oedipus, theban hero, who guessed the riddle of the sphinx (which see), becoming king of thebes oeneus, king of calydon oenone, nymph, married by paris in his youth, and abandoned for helen oenopion, king of chios oeta, mount, scene of hercules' death ogier, the dane, one of the paladins of charlemagne oliver, companion of orlando olwen, wife of kilwich olympia, a small plain in elis, where the olympic games were celebrated olympiads, periods between olympic games (four years) olympian games, see games olympus, dwelling place of the dynasty of gods of which zeus was the head omphale, queen of lydia, daughter of iardanus and wife of tmolus ophion, king of the titans, who ruled olympus till dethroned by the gods saturn and rhea ops see rhea oracles, answers from the gods to questions from seekers for knowledge or advice for the future, usually in equivocal form, so as to fit any event, also places where such answers were given forth usually by a priest or priestess orc, a sea monster, foiled by rogero when about to devour angelica oreads, nymphs of mountains and hills orestes, son of agamemnon and clytemnestra, because of his crime in killing his mother, he was pursued by the furies until purified by minerva orion, youthful giant, loved by diana, constellation orithyia, a nymph, seized by boreas orlando, a famous knight and nephew of charlemagne ormuzd (greek, oromasdes), son of supreme being, source of good as his brother ahriman (arimanes) was of evil, in persian or zoroastrian religion orpheus, musician, son of apollo and calliope, see eurydice osiris, the most beneficent of the egyptian gods ossa, mountain of thessaly ossian, celtic poet of the second or third century ovid, latin poet (see metamorphoses) owain, knight at king arthur's court ozanna, a knight of arthur p pactolus, river whose sands were changed to gold by midas paeon, a name for both apollo and aesculapius, gods of medicine, pagans, heathen paladins or peers, knights errant palaemon, son of athamas and ino palamedes, messenger sent to call ulysses to the trojan war palamedes, saracen prince at arthur's court palatine, one of rome's seven hills pales, goddess presiding over cattle and pastures palinurus, faithful steersman of aeeas palladium, properly any image of pallas athene, but specially applied to an image at troy, which was stolen by ulysses and diomedes pallas, son of evander pallas a the'ne (minerva) pampha gus, a dog of diana pan, god of nature and the universe panathenaea, festival in honor of pallas athene (minerva) pandean pipes, musical instrument of reeds, made by pan in memory of syrinx pandora (all gifted), first woman, dowered with gifts by every god, yet entrusted with a box she was cautioned not to open, but, curious, she opened it, and out flew all the ills of humanity, leaving behind only hope, which remained pandrasus, a king in greece, who persecuted trojan exiles under brutus, great grandson of aeneas, until they fought, captured him, and, with his daughter imogen as brutus' wife, emigrated to albion (later called britain) panope, plain of panthus, alleged earlier incarnation of pythagoras paphlagnia, ancient country in asia minor, south of black sea paphos, daughter of pygmalion and galatea (both of which, see) parcae see fates pariahs, lowest caste of hindus paris, son of priam and hecuba, who eloped with helen (which. see) parnassian laurel, wreath from parnassus, crown awarded to successful poets parnassus, mountain near delphi, sacred to apollo and the muses parsees, persian fire worshippers (zoroastrians), of whom there are still thousands in persia and india parthenon, the temple of athene parthenos ("the virgin") on the acropolis of athens passebreul, tristram's horse patroclus, friend of achilles, killed by hector pecheur, king, uncle of perceval peers, the peg a sus, winged horse, born from the sea foam and the blood of medusa peleus, king of the myrmidons, father of achilles by thetis pelias, usurping uncle of jason pelion, mountain pelleas, knight of arthur penates, protective household deities of the romans pendragon, king of britain, elder brother of uther pendragon, who succeeded him penelope, wife of ulysses, who, waiting twenty years for his return from the trojan war, put off the suitors for her hand by promising to choose one when her weaving was done, but unravelled at night what she had woven by day peneus, river god, river penthesilea, queen of amazons pentheus, king of thebes, having resisted the introduction of the worship of bacchus into his kingdom, was driven mad by the god penus, roman house pantry, giving name to the penates pepin, father of charlemagne peplus, sacred robe of minerva perceval, a great knight of arthur perdix, inventor of saw and compasses periander, king of corinuh, friend of arion periphetes, son of vulcan, killed by theseus persephone, goddess of vegetation, see pioserpine perseus, son of jupiter and danae, slayer of the gorgon medusa, deliverer of andromeda from a sea monster, , , phaeacians, people who entertained ulysses phaedra, faithless and cruel wife of theseus phaethusa, sister of phaeton, phaeton, son of phoebus, who dared attempt to drive his father's sun chariot phantasos, a son of somnus, bringing strange images to sleeping men phaon, beloved by sappho phelot, knight of wales pheredin, friend of tristram, unhappy lover of isoude phidias, famous greek sculptor philemon, husband of baucis philoctetes, warrior who lighted the fatal pyre of hercules philoe, burial place of osiris phineus, betrothed to andromeda phlegethon, fiery river of hades phocis phoebe, one of the sisters of phaeton phoebus (apollo), god of music, prophecy, and archery, the sun god phoenix, a messenger to achilles, also, a miraculous bird dying in fire by its own act and springing up alive from its own ashes phorbas, a companion of aeneas, whose form was assumed by neptune in luring palinuras the helmsman from his roost phryxus, brother of helle pinabel, knight pillars of hercules, two mountains--calpe, now the rock of gibraltar, southwest corner of spain in europe, and abyla, facing it in africa across the strait pindar, famous greek poet pindus, grecian mountain pirene, celebrated fountain at corinth pirithous, king of the lapithae in thessaly, and friend of theseus, husband of hippodamia pleasure, daughter of cupid and psyche pleiades, seven of diana's nymphs, changed into stars, one being lost plenty, the horn of plexippus, brother of althea pliny, roman naturalist pluto, the same as hades, dis, etc. god of the infernal regions plutus, god of wealth po, italian river pole star polites, youngest son of priam of troy pollux, castor and (dioscuri, the twins) (see castor) polydectes, king of seriphus polydore, slain kinsman of aeneas, whose blood nourished a bush that bled when broken polyhymnia, muse of oratory and sacred song polyidus, soothsayer polynices, king of thebes polyphemus, giant son of neptune polyxena, daughter of king priam of troy pomona, goddess of fruit trees (see vertumnus) porrex and fer'rex, sons of leir, king of britain portunus, roman name for palaemon poseidon (neptune), ruler of the ocean precipice, threshold of helas hall prester john, a rumored priest or presbyter, a christian pontiff in upper asia, believed in but never found priam, king of troy priwen, arthur's shield procris, beloved but jealous wife of cephalus procrustes, who seized travellers and bound them on his iron bed, stretching the short ones and cutting short the tall, thus also himself served by theseus proetus, jealous of bellerophon prometheus, creator of man, who stole fire from heaven for man's use proserpine, the same as persephone, goddess of all growing things, daughter of ceres, carried off by pluto protesilaus, slain by hector the trojan, allowed by the gods to return for three hours' talk with his widow laodomia proteus, the old man of the sea prudence (metis), spouse of jupiter pryderi, son of pwyll psyche, a beautiful maiden, personification of the human soul, sought by cupid (love), to whom she responded, lost him by curiosity to see him (as he came to her only by night), but finally through his prayers was made immortal and restored to him, a symbol of immortality puranas, hindu scriptures pwyll, prince of dyved pygmalion, sculptor in love with a statue he had made, brought to life by venus, brother of queen dido pygmies, nation of dwarfs, at war with the cranes pylades, son of straphius, friend of orestes pyramus, who loved thisbe, next door neighbor, and, their parents opposing, they talked through cracks in the house wall, agreeing to meet in the near by woods, where pyramus, finding a bloody veil and thinking thisbe slain, killed himself, and she, seeing his body, killed herself (burlesqued in shakespeare's "midsummer night's dream") pyrrha, wife of deucalion pyrrhus (neoptolemus), son of achilles pythagoras, greek philosopher ( bc), who thought numbers to be the essence and principle of all things, and taught transmigration of souls of the dead into new life as human or animal beings pythia, priestess of apollo at delphi pythian games pythian oracle python, serpent springing from deluge slum, destroyed by apollo q quirinus (from quiris, a lance or spear), a war god, said to be romulus, founder of rome r rabican, noted horse ragnarok, the twilight (or ending) of the gods rajputs, minor hindu caste regan, daughter of leir regillus, lake in latium, noted for battle fought near by between the romans and the latins reggio, family from which rogero sprang remus, brother of romulus, founder of rome rhadamanthus, son of jupiter and europa after his death one of the judges in the lower world rhapsodist, professional reciter of poems among the greeks rhea, female titan, wife of saturn (cronos), mother of the chief gods, worshipped in greece and rome rhine, river rhine maidens, or daughters, three water nymphs, flosshilda, woglinda, and wellgunda, set to guard the nibelungen hoard, buried in the rhine rhodes, one of the seven cities claiming to be homer's birthplace rhodope, mountain in thrace rhongomyant, arthur's lance rhoecus, a youth, beloved by a dryad, but who brushed away a bee sent by her to call him to her, and she punished him with blindness rhiannon, wife of pwyll rinaldo, one of the bravest knights of charlemagne river ocean, flowing around the earth robert de beauvais', norman poet ( ) robin hood, famous outlaw in english legend, about time of richard coeur de lion rockingham, forest of rodomont, king of algiers rogero, noted saracen knight roland (orlando), see orlando romances romanus, legendary great grandson of noah rome romulus, founder of rome ron, arthur's lance ronces valles', battle of round table king arthur's instituted by merlin the sage for pendragon, arthur's father, as a knightly order, continued and made famous by arthur and his knights runic characters, or runes, alphabetic signs used by early teutonic peoples, written or graved on metal or stone rutulians, an ancient people in italy, subdued at an early period by the romans ryence, king in ireland s sabra, maiden for whom severn river was named, daughter of locrine and estrildis thrown into river severn by locrine's wife, transformed to a river nymph, poetically named sabrina sacripant, king of circassia saffire, sir, knight of arthur sagas, norse tales of heroism, composed by the skalds sagramour, knight of arthur st. michael's mount, precipitous pointed rock hill on the coast of brittany, opposite cornwall sakyasinha, the lion, epithet applied to buddha salamander, a lizard like animal, fabled to be able to live in fire salamis, grecian city salmoneus, son of aeolus and enarete and brother of sisyphus salomon, king of brittany, at charlemagne's court samhin, or "fire of peace," a druidical festival samian sage (pythagoras) samos, island in the aegean sea samothracian gods, a group of agricultural divinities, worshipped in samothrace samson, hebrew hero, thought by some to be original of hercules san greal (see graal, the holy) sappho, greek poetess, who leaped into the sea from promontory of leucadia in disappointed love for phaon saracens, followers of mahomet sarpedon, son of jupiter and europa, killed by patroclus saturn (cronos) saturnalia, a annual festival held by romans in honor of saturn saturnia, an ancient name of italy satyrs, male divinities of the forest, half man, half goat scaliger, famous german scholar of th century scandinavia, mythology of, giving account of northern gods, heroes, etc scheria, mythical island, abode of the phaeacians schrimnir, the boar, cooked nightly for the heroes of valhalla becoming whole every morning scio, one of the island cities claiming to be homer's birthplace scopas, king of thessaly scorpion, constellation scylla, sea nymph beloved by glaucus, but changed by jealous circe to a monster and finally to a dangerous rock on the sicilian coast, facing the whirlpool charybdis, many mariners being wrecked between the two, also, daughter of king nisus of megara, who loved minos, besieging her father's city, but he disliked her disloyalty and drowned her, also, a fair virgin of sicily, friend of sea nymph galatea scyros, where theseus was slain scythia, country lying north of euxine sea semele, daughter of cadmus and, by jupiter, mother of bacchus semiramis, with ninus the mythical founder of the assyrian empire of nineveh senapus, king of abyssinia, who entertained astolpho serapis, or hermes, egyptian divinity of tartarus and of medicine serfs, slaves of the land seriphus, island in the aegean sea, one of the cyclades serpent (northern constellation) sestos, dwelling of hero (which see also leander) "seven against thebes," famous greek expedition severn river, in england sevinus, duke of guienne shalott, the lady of shatriya, hindu warrior caste sherasmin, french chevalier sibyl, prophetess of cumae sichaeus, husband of dido seige perilous, the chair of purity at arthur's round table, fatal to any but him who was destined to achieve the quest of the sangreal (see galahad) siegfried, young king of the netherlands, husband of kriemhild, she boasted to brunhild that siegfried had aided gunther to beat her in athletic contests, thus winning her as wife, and brunhild, in anger, employed hagan to murder siegfried. as hero of wagner's "valkyrie," he wins the nibelungen treasure ring, loves and deserts brunhild, and is slain by hagan sieglinda, wife of hunding, mother of siegfried by siegmund siegmund, father of siegfried sigtryg, prince, betrothed of king alef's daughter, aided by hereward siguna, wife of loki silenus, a satyr, school master of bacchus silures (south wales) silvia, daughter of latin shepherd silvius, grandson of aeneas, accidentally killed in the chase by his son brutus simonides, an early poet of greece sinon, a greek spy, who persuaded the trojans to take the wooden horse into their city sirens, sea nymphs, whose singing charmed mariners to leap into the sea, passing their island, ulysses stopped the ears of his sailors with wax, and had himself bound to the mast so that he could hear but not yield to their music sirius, the dog of orion, changed to the dog star sisyphus, condemned in tartarus to perpetually roll up hill a big rock which, when the top was reached, rolled down again siva, the destroyer, third person of the hindu triad of gods skalds, norse bards and poets skidbladnir, freyr's ship skirnir, frey's messenger, who won the god's magic sword by getting him gerda for his wife skrymir, a giant, utgard loki in disguise, who fooled thor in athletic feats skuld, the norn of the future sleep, twin brother of death sleipnir, odin's horse sobrino, councillor to agramant somnus, child of nox, twin brother of mors, god of sleep sophocles, greek tragic dramatist south wind see notus spar'ta, capital of lacedaemon sphinx, a monster, waylaying the road to thebes and propounding riddles to all passers, on pain of death, for wrong guessing, who killed herself in rage when aedipus guessed aright spring stonehenge, circle of huge upright stones, fabled to be sepulchre of pendragon strophius, father of pylades stygian realm, hades stygian sleep, escaped from the beauty box sent from hades to venus by hand of psyche, who curiously opened the box and was plunged into unconsciousness styx, river, bordering hades, to be crossed by all the dead sudras, hindu laboring caste surtur, leader of giants against the gods in the day of their destruction (norse mythology) surya, hindu god of the sun, corresponding to the greek helios sutri, orlando's birthplace svadilfari, giant's horse swan, leda and sybaris, greek city in southern italy, famed for luxury sylvanus, latin divinity identified with pan symplegades, floating rocks passed by the argonauts syrinx, nymph, pursued by pan, but escaping by being changed to a bunch of reeds (see pandean pipes) t tacitus, roman historian taenarus, greek entrance to lower regions tagus, river in spain and portugal taliesin, welsh bard tanais, ancient name of river don tantalus, wicked king, punished in hades by standing in water that retired when he would drink, under fruit trees that withdrew when he would eat tarchon, etruscan chief tarentum, italian city tarpeian rock, in rome, from which condemned criminals were hurled tarquins, a ruling family in early roman legend tauris, grecian city, site of temple of diana (see iphigenia) taurus, a mountain tartarus, place of confinement of titans, etc, originally a black abyss below hades later, represented as place where the wicked were punished, and sometimes the name used as synonymous with hades teirtu, the harp of telamon, greek hero and adventurer, father of ajax telemachus, son of ulysses and penelope tellus, another name for rhea tenedos, an island in aegean sea terminus, roman divinity presiding over boundaries and frontiers terpsichore, muse of dancing terra, goddess of the earth tethys, goddess of the sea teucer, ancient king of the trojans thalia, one of the three graces thamyris, thracian bard, who challenged the muses to competition in singing, and, defeated, was blinded thaukt, loki disguised as a hag thebes, city founded by cadmus and capital of boeotia themis, female titan, law counsellor of jove theodora, sister of prince leo theron, one of diana's dogs thersites, a brawler, killed by achilles thescelus, foe of perseus, turned to stone by sight of gorgon's head theseum, athenian temple in honor of theseus theseus, son of aegeus and aethra, king of athens, a great hero of many adventures thessaly thestius, father of althea thetis, mother of achilles thialfi, thor's servant this'be, babylonian maiden beloved by pyramus thor, the thunderer, of norse mythology, most popular of the gods thrace thrina'kia, island pasturing hyperion's cattle, where ulysses landed, but, his men killing some cattle for food, their ship was wrecked by lightning thrym, giant, who buried thor's hammer thucydides, greek historian tiber, river flowing through rome tiber, father, god of the river tigris, river tintadel, castle of, residence of king mark of cornwall tiresias, a greek soothsayer tisiphone, one of the furies titans, the sons and daughters of uranus (heaven) and gaea (earth), enemies of the gods and overcome by them tithonus, trojan prince tityus, giant in tartarus tmolus, a mountain god tortoise, second avatar of vishnu tours, battle of (see abdalrahman and charles martel) toxeus, brother of melauger's mother, who snatched from atalanta her hunting trophy, and was slain by melauger, who had awarded it to her triad, the hindu triads, welsh poems trimurti, hindu triad triptol'emus, son of celeus , and who, made great by ceres, founded her worship in eleusis tristram, one of arthur's knights, husband of isoude of the white hands, lover of isoude the fair, triton, a demi god of the sea, son of poseidon (neptune) and amphitrite troezen, greek city of argolis trojan war trojanova, new troy, city founded in britain (see brutus, and lud) trophonius, oracle of, in boeotia troubadours, poets and minstrels of provence, in southern france trouvers', poets and minstrels of northern france troy, city in asia minor, ruled by king priam, whose son, paris, stole away helen, wife of menelaus the greek, resulting in the trojan war and the destruction of troy troy, fall of turnus, chief of the rutulianes in italy, unsuccessful rival of aeneas for lavinia turpin, archbishop of rheims turquine, sir, a great knight, foe of arthur, slain by sir launcelot typhon, one of the giants who attacked the gods, were defeated, and imprisoned under mt. aetna tyr, norse god of battles tyre, phoenician city governed by dido tyrians tyrrheus, herdsman of king turnus in italy, the slaying of whose daughter's stag aroused war upon aeneas and his companions u uberto, son of galafron ulysses (greek, odysseus), hero of the odyssey unicorn, fabled animal with a single horn urania, one of the muses, a daughter of zeus by mnemosyne urdur, one of the norns or fates of scandinavia, representing the past usk, british river utgard, abode of the giant utgard loki utgard lo'ki, king of the giants (see skrymir) uther (uther pendragon), king of britain and father of arthur, uwaine, knight of arthur's court v vaissyas, hindu caste of agriculturists and traders valhalla, hall of odin, heavenly residence of slain heroes valkyrie, armed and mounted warlike virgins, daughters of the gods (norse), odin's messengers, who select slain heroes for valhalla and serve them at their feasts ve, brother of odin vedas, hindu sacred scriptures venedotia, ancient name for north wales venus (aphrodite), goddess of beauty venus de medici, famous antique statue in uffizi gallery, florence, italy verdandi, the present, one of the norns vertumnus, god of the changing seasons, whose varied appearances won the love of pomona vesta, daughter of cronos and rhea, goddess of the homefire, or hearth vestals, virgin priestesses in temple of vesta vesuvius, mount, volcano near naples villains, peasants in the feudal scheme vigrid, final battle-field, with destruction of the gods ind their enemies, the sun, the earth, and time itself vili, brother of odin and ve virgil, celebrated latin poet (see aeneid) virgo, constellation of the virgin, representing astraea, goddess of innocence and purity vishnu, the preserver, second of the three chief hindu gods viviane, lady of magical powers, who allured the sage merlin and imprisoned him in an enchanted wood volscens, rutulian troop leader who killed nisus and euryalus volsung, a saga, an icelandic poem, giving about the same legends as the nibelungen lied vortigern, usurping king of britain, defeated by pendragon , vulcan (greek, haephestus), god of fire and metal working, with forges under aetna, husband of venus vya'sa, hindu sage w wain, the, constellation wellgunda, one of the rhine-daughters welsh language western ocean winds, the winter woden, chief god in the norse mythology, anglo saxon for odin woglinda, one of the rhine-daughters woman, creation of wooden horse, the, filled with armed men, but left outside of troy as a pretended offering to minerva when the greeks feigned to sail away, accepted by the trojans (see sinon, and laocoon), brought into the city, and at night emptied of the hidden greek soldiers, who destroyed the town wood nymphs wotan, old high german form of odin x xanthus, river of asia minor y yama, hindu god of the infernal regions year, the ygdrasil, great ash-tree, supposed by norse mythology to support the universe ymir, giant, slain by odin ynywl, earl, host of geraint, father of enid york, britain yserone, niece of arthur, mother of caradoc yspa da den pen'kawr, father of olwen z zendavesta, persian sacred scriptures zephyrus, god of the south wind, zerbino, a knight, son of the king of scotland zetes, winged warrior, companion of theseus zethus, son of jupiter and antiope, brother of amphion. see dirce zeus, see jupiter zoroaster, founder of the persian religion, which was dominant in western asia from about bc to about ad, and is still held by many thousands in persia and in india a study in magic and religion _third edition_ part vii balder the beautiful vol. i balder the beautiful the fire-festivals of europe and the doctrine of the external soul j.g. frazer, d.c.l., ll.d., litt.d. fellow of trinity college, cambridge professor of social anthropology in the university of liverpool. in two volumes vol. i preface in this concluding part of _the golden bough_ i have discussed the problem which gives its title to the whole work. if i am right, the golden bough over which the king of the wood, diana's priest at aricia, kept watch and ward was no other than a branch of mistletoe growing on an oak within the sacred grove; and as the plucking of the bough was a necessary prelude to the slaughter of the priest, i have been led to institute a parallel between the king of the wood at nemi and the norse god balder, who was worshipped in a sacred grove beside the beautiful sogne fiord of norway and was said to have perished by a stroke of mistletoe, which alone of all things on earth or in heaven could wound him. on the theory here suggested both balder and the king of the wood personified in a sense the sacred oak of our aryan forefathers, and both had deposited their lives or souls for safety in the parasite which sometimes, though rarely, is found growing on an oak and by the very rarity of its appearance excites the wonder and stimulates the devotion of ignorant men. though i am now less than ever disposed to lay weight on the analogy between the italian priest and the norse god, i have allowed it to stand because it furnishes me with a pretext for discussing not only the general question of the external soul in popular superstition, but also the fire-festivals of europe, since fire played a part both in the myth of balder and in the ritual of the arician grove. thus balder the beautiful in my hands is little more than a stalking-horse to carry two heavy pack-loads of facts. and what is true of balder applies equally to the priest of nemi himself, the nominal hero of the long tragedy of human folly and suffering which has unrolled itself before the readers of these volumes, and on which the curtain is now about to fall. he, too, for all the quaint garb he wears and the gravity with which he stalks across the stage, is merely a puppet, and it is time to unmask him before laying him up in the box. to drop metaphor, while nominally investigating a particular problem of ancient mythology, i have really been discussing questions of more general interest which concern the gradual evolution of human thought from savagery to civilization. the enquiry is beset with difficulties of many kinds, for the record of man's mental development is even more imperfect than the record of his physical development, and it is harder to read, not only by reason of the incomparably more subtle and complex nature of the subject, but because the reader's eyes are apt to be dimmed by thick mists of passion and prejudice, which cloud in a far less degree the fields of comparative anatomy and geology. my contribution to the history of the human mind consists of little more than a rough and purely provisional classification of facts gathered almost entirely from printed sources. if there is one general conclusion which seems to emerge from the mass of particulars, i venture to think that it is the essential similarity in the working of the less developed human mind among all races, which corresponds to the essential similarity in their bodily frame revealed by comparative anatomy. but while this general mental similarity may, i believe, be taken as established, we must always be on our guard against tracing to it a multitude of particular resemblances which may be and often are due to simple diffusion, since nothing is more certain than that the various races of men have borrowed from each other many of their arts and crafts, their ideas, customs, and institutions. to sift out the elements of culture which a race has independently evolved and to distinguish them accurately from those which it has derived from other races is a task of extreme difficulty and delicacy, which promises to occupy students of man for a long time to come; indeed so complex are the facts and so imperfect in most cases is the historical record that it may be doubted whether in regard to many of the lower races we shall ever arrive at more than probable conjectures. since the last edition of _the golden bough_ was published some thirteen years ago, i have seen reason to change my views on several matters discussed in this concluding part of the work, and though i have called attention to these changes in the text, it may be well for the sake of clearness to recapitulate them here. in the first place, the arguments of dr. edward westermarck have satisfied me that the solar theory of the european fire-festivals, which i accepted from w. mannhardt, is very slightly, if at all, supported by the evidence and is probably erroneous. the true explanation of the festivals i now believe to be the one advocated by dr. westermarck himself, namely that they are purificatory in intention, the fire being designed not, as i formerly held, to reinforce the sun's light and heat by sympathetic magic, but merely to burn or repel the noxious things, whether conceived as material or spiritual, which threaten the life of man, of animals, and of plants. this aspect of the fire-festivals had not wholly escaped me in former editions; i pointed it out explicitly, but, biassed perhaps by the great authority of mannhardt, i treated it as secondary and subordinate instead of primary and dominant. out of deference to mannhardt, for whose work i entertain the highest respect, and because the evidence for the purificatory theory of the fires is perhaps not quite conclusive, i have in this edition repeated and even reinforced the arguments for the solar theory of the festivals, so that the reader may see for himself what can be said on both sides of the question and may draw his own conclusion; but for my part i cannot but think that the arguments for the purificatory theory far outweigh the arguments for the solar theory. dr. westermarck based his criticisms largely on his own observations of the mohammedan fire-festivals of morocco, which present a remarkable resemblance to those of christian europe, though there seems no reason to assume that herein africa has borrowed from europe or europe from africa. so far as europe is concerned, the evidence tends strongly to shew that the grand evil which the festivals aimed at combating was witchcraft, and that they were conceived to attain their end by actually burning the witches, whether visible or invisible, in the flames. if that was so, the wide prevalence and the immense popularity of the fire-festivals provides us with a measure for estimating the extent of the hold which the belief in witchcraft had on the european mind before the rise of christianity or rather of rationalism; for christianity, both catholic and protestant, accepted the old belief and enforced it in the old way by the faggot and the stake. it was not until human reason at last awoke after the long slumber of the middle ages that this dreadful obsession gradually passed away like a dark cloud from the intellectual horizon of europe. yet we should deceive ourselves if we imagined that the belief in witchcraft is even now dead in the mass of the people; on the contrary there is ample evidence to show that it only hibernates under the chilling influence of rationalism, and that it would start into active life if that influence were ever seriously relaxed. the truth seems to be that to this day the peasant remains a pagan and savage at heart; his civilization is merely a thin veneer which the hard knocks of life soon abrade, exposing the solid core of paganism and savagery below. the danger created by a bottomless layer of ignorance and superstition under the crust of civilized society is lessened, not only by the natural torpidity and inertia of the bucolic mind, but also by the progressive decrease of the rural as compared with the urban population in modern states; for i believe it will be found that the artisans who congregate in towns are far less retentive of primitive modes of thought than their rustic brethren. in every age cities have been the centres and as it were the lighthouses from which ideas radiate into the surrounding darkness, kindled by the friction of mind with mind in the crowded haunts of men; and it is natural that at these beacons of intellectual light all should partake in some measure of the general illumination. no doubt the mental ferment and unrest of great cities have their dark as well as their bright side; but among the evils to be apprehended from them the chances of a pagan revival need hardly be reckoned. another point on which i have changed my mind is the nature of the great aryan god whom the romans called jupiter and the greeks zeus. whereas i formerly argued that he was primarily a personification of the sacred oak and only in the second place a personification of the thundering sky, i now invert the order of his divine functions and believe that he was a sky-god before he came to be associated with the oak. in fact, i revert to the traditional view of jupiter, recant my heresy, and am gathered like a lost sheep into the fold of mythological orthodoxy. the good shepherd who has brought me back is my friend mr. w. warde fowler. he has removed the stone over which i stumbled in the wilderness by explaining in a simple and natural way how a god of the thundering sky might easily come to be afterwards associated with the oak. the explanation turns on the great frequency with which, as statistics prove, the oak is struck by lightning beyond any other tree of the wood in europe. to our rude forefathers, who dwelt in the gloomy depths of the primaeval forest, it might well seem that the riven and blackened oaks must indeed be favourites of the sky-god, who so often descended on them from the murky cloud in a flash of lightning and a crash of thunder. this change of view as to the great aryan god necessarily affects my interpretation of the king of the wood, the priest of diana at aricia, if i may take that discarded puppet out of the box again for a moment. on my theory the priest represented jupiter in the flesh, and accordingly, if jupiter was primarily a sky-god, his priest cannot have been a mere incarnation of the sacred oak, but must, like the deity whose commission he bore, have been invested in the imagination of his worshippers with the power of overcasting the heaven with clouds and eliciting storms of thunder and rain from the celestial vault. the attribution of weather-making powers to kings or priests is very common in primitive society, and is indeed one of the principal levers by which such personages raise themselves to a position of superiority above their fellows. there is therefore no improbability in the supposition that as a representative of jupiter the priest of diana enjoyed this reputation, though positive evidence of it appears to be lacking. lastly, in the present edition i have shewn some grounds for thinking that the golden bough itself, or in common parlance the mistletoe on the oak, was supposed to have dropped from the sky upon the tree in a flash of lightning and therefore to contain within itself the seed of celestial fire, a sort of smouldering thunderbolt. this view of the priest and of the bough which he guarded at the peril of his life has the advantage of accounting for the importance which the sanctuary at nemi acquired and the treasure which it amassed through the offerings of the faithful; for the shrine would seem to have been to ancient what loreto has been to modern italy, a place of pilgrimage, where princes and nobles as well as commoners poured wealth into the coffers of diana in her green recess among the alban hills, just as in modern times kings and queens vied with each other in enriching the black virgin who from her holy house on the hillside at loreto looks out on the blue adriatic and the purple apennines. such pious prodigality becomes more intelligible if the greatest of the gods was indeed believed to dwell in human shape with his wife among the woods of nemi. these are the principal points on which i have altered my opinion since the last edition of my book was published. the mere admission of such changes may suffice to indicate the doubt and uncertainty which attend enquiries of this nature. the whole fabric of ancient mythology is so foreign to our modern ways of thought, and the evidence concerning it is for the most part so fragmentary, obscure, and conflicting that in our attempts to piece together and interpret it we can hardly hope to reach conclusions that will completely satisfy either ourselves or others. in this as in other branches of study it is the fate of theories to be washed away like children's castles of sand by the rising tide of knowledge, and i am not so presumptuous as to expect or desire for mine an exemption from the common lot. i hold them all very lightly and have used them chiefly as convenient pegs on which to hang my collections of facts. for i believe that, while theories are transitory, a record of facts has a permanent value, and that as a chronicle of ancient customs and beliefs my book may retain its utility when my theories are as obsolete as the customs and beliefs themselves deserve to be. i cannot dismiss without some natural regret a task which has occupied and amused me at intervals for many years. but the regret is tempered by thankfulness and hope. i am thankful that i have been able to conclude at least one chapter of the work i projected a long time ago. i am hopeful that i may not now be taking a final leave of my indulgent readers, but that, as i am sensible of little abatement in my bodily strength and of none in my ardour for study, they will bear with me yet a while if i should attempt to entertain them with fresh subjects of laughter and tears drawn from the comedy and the tragedy of man's endless quest after happiness and truth. j.g. frazer. cambridge, _th october_ . contents preface, pp. v-xii chapter i.--between heaven and earth, pp. - § . _not to touch the earth_, pp. - .--the priest of aricia and the golden bough, _sq._; sacred kings and priests forbidden to touch the ground with their feet, - ; certain persons on certain occasions forbidden to touch the ground with their feet, - ; sacred persons apparently thought to be charged with a mysterious virtue which will run to waste or explode by contact with the ground, _sq._; things as well as persons charged with the mysterious virtue of holiness or taboo and therefore kept from contact with the ground, ; festival of the wild mango, which is not allowed to touch the earth, - ; other sacred objects kept from contact with the ground, _sq._; sacred food not allowed to touch the earth, _sq._; magical implements and remedies thought to lose their virtue by contact with the ground, _sq._; serpents' eggs or snake stones, _sq._; medicinal plants, water, etc., not allowed to touch the earth, _sq._ § . _not to see the sun_, pp. - .--sacred persons not allowed to see the sun, - ; tabooed persons not allowed to see the sun, ; certain persons forbidden to see fire, _sq._; the story of prince sunless, . chapter ii.--the seclusion of girls at puberty, pp. - § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in africa_, pp. - .--girls at puberty forbidden to touch the ground and see the sun, ; seclusion of girls at puberty among the zulus and kindred tribes, ; among the a-kamba of british east africa, ; among the baganda of central africa, _sq._; among the tribes of the tanganyika plateau, _sq._; among the tribes of british central africa, _sq._; abstinence from salt associated with a rule of chastity in many tribes, - ; seclusion of girls at puberty among the tribes about lake nyassa and on the zambesi, _sq._; among the thonga of delagoa bay, _sq._; among the caffre tribes of south africa, _sq._; among the bavili of the lower congo, _sq._ § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in new ireland, new guinea, and indonesia_, pp. - .--seclusion of girls at puberty in new ireland, - ; in new guinea, borneo, ceram, and the caroline islands, _sq._ § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in the torres straits islands and northern australia_, pp. - .--seclusion of girls at puberty in mabuiag, torres straits, _sq._; in northern australia, - ; in the islands of torres straits, - . § . _seclusion of girls at puberty among the indians of north america_, pp. - .--seclusion of girls at puberty among the indians of california, - ; among the indians of washington state, ; among the nootka indians of vancouver island, _sq._; among the haida indians of the queen charlotte islands, _sq._; among the tlingit indians of alaska, _sq._; among the tsetsaut and bella coola indians of british columbia, _sq._; among the tinneh indians of british columbia, _sq._; among the tinneh indians of alaska, _sq._; among the thompson indians of british columbia, - ; among the lillooet indians of british columbia, _sq._; among the shuswap indians of british columbia, _sq._; among the delaware and cheyenne indians, _sq._; among the esquimaux, _sq._ § . _seclusion of girls at puberty among the indians of south america_, pp. - .--seclusion of girls at puberty among the guaranis, chiriguanos, and lengua indians, _sq._; among the yuracares of bolivia, _sq._; among the indians of the gran chaco, _sq._; among the indians of brazil, _sq._; among the indians of guiana, _sq._; beating the girls and stinging them with ants, ; stinging young men with ants and wasps as an initiatory rite, - ; stinging men and women with ants to improve their character or health or to render them invulnerable, _sq._; in such cases the beating or stinging was originally a purification, not a test of courage and endurance, _sq._; this explanation confirmed by the beating of girls among the banivas of the orinoco to rid them of a demon, - ; symptoms of puberty in a girl regarded as wounds inflicted on her by a demon, . § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in india and cambodia_, pp. - .--seclusion of girls at puberty among the hindoos, ; in southern india, - ; in cambodia, . § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in folk-tales_, pp. - .--danish story of the girl who might not see the sun, - ; tyrolese story of the girl who might not see the sun, ; modern greek stories of the maid who might not see the sun, _sq._; ancient greek story of danae and its parallel in a kirghiz legend, _sq._; impregnation of women by the sun in legends, _sq._; traces in marriage customs of the belief that women can be impregnated by the sun, ; belief in the impregnation of women by the moon, _sq._ § . _reasons for the seclusion of girls at puberty_, pp. - .--the reason for the seclusion of girls at puberty is the dread of menstruous blood, ; dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the aborigines of australia, - ; in torres straits islands, new guinea, galela, and sumatra, _sq._; among the tribes of south africa, _sq._; among the tribes of central and east africa, - ; among the tribes of west africa, ; powerful influence ascribed to menstruous blood in arab legend, _sq._; dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the jews and in syria, _sq._; in india, _sq._; in annam, ; among the indians of central and south america, _sq._; among the indians of north america, - ; among the creek, choctaw, omaha and cheyenne indians, _sq._; among the indians of british columbia, _sq._; among the chippeway indians, _sq._; among the tinneh or déné indians, ; among the carrier indians, - ; similar rules of seclusion enjoined on menstruous women in ancient hindoo, persian, and hebrew codes, - ; superstitions as to menstruous women in ancient and modern europe, _sq._; the intention of secluding menstruous women is to neutralize the dangerous influences which are thought to emanate from them in that condition, ; suspension between heaven and earth, ; the same explanation applies to the similar rules of seclusion observed by divine kings and priests, - ; stories of immortality attained by suspension between heaven and earth, _sq._ chapter iii.--the myth of balder, pp. - how balder, the good and beautiful god, was done to death by a stroke of mistletoe, _sq._; story of balder in the older _edda_, _sq._; story of balder as told by saxo grammaticus, ; balder worshipped in norway, ; legendary death of balder resembles the legendary death of isfendiyar in the epic of firdusi, _sq._; the myth of balder perhaps acted as a magical ceremony; the two main incidents of the myth, namely the pulling of the mistletoe and the burning of the god, have perhaps their counterpart in popular ritual, . chapter iv.--the fire festivals of europe, pp. - § . _the lenten fires_, pp. - .--european custom of kindling bonfires on certain days of the year, dancing round them, leaping over them, and burning effigies in the flames, ; seasons of the year at which the bonfires are lit, _sq._; bonfires on the first sunday in lent in the belgian ardennes, _sq._; in the french department of the ardennes, _sq._; in franche-comté, _sq._; in auvergne, - ; french custom of carrying lighted torches (_brandons_) about the orchards and fields to fertilize them on the first sunday of lent, - ; bonfires on the first sunday of lent in germany and austria, _sq._; "burning the witch," ; burning discs thrown into the air, _sq._; burning wheels rolled down hill, _sq._; bonfires on the first sunday in lent in switzerland, _sq._; burning discs thrown into the air, ; connexion of these fires with the custom of "carrying out death," _sq._ § . _the easter fires_, - .--custom in catholic countries of kindling a holy new fire on easter saturday, marvellous properties ascribed to the embers of the fire, ; effigy of judas burnt in the fire, ; easter fires in bavaria and the abruzzi, ; water as well as fire consecrated at easter in italy, bohemia, and germany, - ; new fire at easter in carinthia, ; thomas kirchmeyer's account of the consecration of fire and water by the catholic church at easter, _sq._; the new fire on easter saturday at florence, _sq._; the new fire and the burning of judas on easter saturday in mexico and south america, _sq._; the new fire on easter saturday in the church of the holy sepulchre at jerusalem, - ; the new fire and the burning of judas on easter saturday in greece, _sq._; the new fire at candlemas in armenia, ; the new fire and the burning of judas at easter are probably relics of paganism, _sq._; new fire at the summer solstice among the incas of peru, ; new fire among the indians of mexico and new mexico, the iroquois, and the esquimaux, - ; new fire in wadai, among the swahili, and in other parts of africa, - ; new fires among the todas and nagas of india, ; new fire in china and japan, _sq._; new fire in ancient greece and rome, ; new fire at hallowe'en among the old celts of ireland, ; new fire on the first of september among the russian peasants, ; the rite of the new fire probably common to many peoples of the mediterranean area before the rise of christianity, _sq._; the pagan character of the easter fire manifest from the superstitions associated with it, such as the belief that the fire fertilizes the fields and protects houses from conflagration and sickness, _sq._; the easter fires in münsterland, oldenburg, the harz mountains, and the altmark, - ; easter fires and the burning of judas or the easter man in bavaria, _sq._; easter fires and "thunder poles" in baden, ; easter fires in holland and sweden, _sq._; the burning of judas in bohemia, . § . _the beltane fires_, pp. - .--the beltane fires on the first of may in the highlands of scotland, - ; john ramsay of ochtertyre, his description of the beltane fires and cakes and the beltane carline, - ; beltane fires and cakes in perthshire, - ; beltane fires in the north-east of scotland to burn the witches, _sq._; beltane fires and cakes in the hebrides, ; beltane fires and cakes in wales, - ; in the isle of man to burn the witches, ; in nottinghamshire, ; in ireland, - ; fires on the eve of may day in sweden, ; in austria and saxony to burn the witches, _sq._ § . _the midsummer fires_, pp. - .--the great season for fire-festivals in europe is midsummer eve or midsummer day, which the church has dedicated to st. john the baptist, _sq._; the bonfires, the torches, and the burning wheels of the festival, ; thomas kirchmeyer's description of the midsummer festival, _sq._; the midsummer fires in germany, - ; burning wheel rolled down hill at konz on the moselle, _sq._; midsummer fires in bavaria, - ; in swabia, _sq._; in baden, - ; in alsace, lorraine, the eifel, the harz district, and thuringia, ; midsummer fires kindled by the friction of wood, _sq._; driving away the witches and demons, ; midsummer fires in silesia, scaring away the witches, _sq._; midsummer fires in denmark and norway, keeping off the witches, ; midsummer fires in sweden, ; midsummer fires in switzerland and austria, _sq._; in bohemia, - ; in moravia, austrian silesia, and the district of cracow, ; among the slavs of russia, ; in prussia and lithuania as a protection against witchcraft, thunder, hail, and cattle disease, _sq._; in masuren the fire is kindled by the revolution of a wheel, ; midsummer fires among the letts of russia, _sq._; among the south slavs, ; among the magyars, _sq._; among the esthonians, _sq._; among the finns and cheremiss of russia, _sq._; in france, - ; bossuet on the midsummer festival, ; the midsummer fires in brittany, - ; in normandy, the brotherhood of the green wolf at jumièges, _sq._; midsummer fires in picardy, _sq._; in beauce and perche, ; the fires a protection against witchcraft, ; the midsummer fires in the ardennes, the vosges, and the jura, _sq._; in franche-comté, ; in berry and other parts of central france, _sq._; in poitou, _sq._; in the departments of vienne and deux-sèvres and in the provinces of saintonge and aunis, _sq._; in southern france, _sq._; midsummer festival of fire and water in provence, _sq._; midsummer fires in belgium, - ; in england, - ; stow's description of the midsummer fires in london, _sq._; john aubrey on the midsummer fires, ; midsummer fires in cumberland, northumberland, and yorkshire, _sq._; in herefordshire, somersetshire, devonshire, and cornwall, _sq._; in wales and the isle of man, _sq._; in ireland, - ; holy wells resorted to on midsummer eve in ireland, _sq._; midsummer fires in scotland, _sq._; midsummer fires and divination in spain and the azores, _sq._; midsummer fires in corsica and sardinia, ; in the abruzzi, _sq._; in sicily, ; in malta, _sq._; in greece and the greek islands, _sq._; in macedonia and albania, ; in south america, _sq._; among the mohammedans of morocco and algeria, - ; the midsummer festival in north africa comprises rites of water as well as fire, ; similar festival of fire and water at new year in north africa, _sq._; the duplication of the festival probably due to a conflict between the solar calendar of the romans and the lunar calendar of the arabs, _sg._; the midsummer festival in morocco apparently of berber origin, . § . _the autumn fires_, pp. - .--festivals of fire in august, ; "living fire" made by the friction of wood, ; feast of the nativity of the virgin on the eighth of september at capri and naples, - . § . _the halloween fires_, pp. - .--while the midsummer festival implies observation of the solstices, the celts appear to have divided their year, without regard to the solstices, by the times when they drove their cattle to and from the summer pasture on the first of may and the last of october (hallowe'en), - ; the two great celtic festivals of beltane (may day) and hallowe'en (the last of october), ; hallowe'en seems to have marked the beginning of the celtic year, _sq._; it was a season of divination and a festival of the dead, _sq._; fairies and hobgoblins let loose at hallowe'en, - ; divination in celtic countries at hallowe'en, _sq._; hallowe'en bonfires in the highlands of scotland, - ; hallowe'en fires in buchan to burn the witches, _sq._; processions with torches at hallowe'en in the braemar highlands, _sq._; divination at hallowe'en in the highlands and lowlands of scotland, - ; hallowe'en fires in wales, omens drawn from stones cast into the fires, _sq._; divination at hallowe'en in wales, _sq._; divination at hallowe'en in ireland, - ; hallowe'en fires and divination in the isle of man, _sq._; hallowe'en fires and divination in lancashire, _sq._; marching with lighted candles to keep off the witches, ; divination at hallowe'en in northumberland, ; hallowe'en fires in france, _sq._ § . _the midwinter fires_, pp. - .--christmas the continuation of an old heathen festival of the sun, ; the yule log the midwinter counterpart of the midsummer bonfire, ; the yule log in germany, - ; in switzerland, ; in belgium, ; in france, - ; french superstitions as to the yule log, ; the yule log at marseilles and in perigord, _sq._; in berry, _sq._; in normandy and brittany, _sq._; in the ardennes, _sq._; in the vosges, ; in franche-comté, _sq._; the yule log and yule candle in england, - ; the yule log in the north of england and yorkshire, _sq._; in lincolnshire, warwickshire, shropshire, and herefordshire, _sq._; in wales, ; in servia, - ; among the servians of slavonia, _sq._; among the servians of dalmatia, herzegovina, and montenegro, _sq._; in albania, ; belief that the yule log protects against fire and lightning, _sq._; public fire-festivals at midwinter, - ; christmas bonfire at schweina in thuringia, _sq._; christmas bonfires in normandy, ; bonfires on st. thomas's day in the isle of man, ; the "burning of the clavie" at burghead on the last day of december, - ; christmas procession with burning tar-barrels at lerwick, _sq._ § . _the need-fire_, pp. - .--need-fire kindled not at fixed periods but on occasions of distress and calamity, ; the need-fire in the middle ages and down to the end of the sixteenth century, _sq._; mode of kindling the need-fire by the friction of wood, _sq_.; the need-fire in central germany, particularly about hildesheim, _sq._; the need-fire in the mark, ; in mecklenburg, _sq._; in hanover, _sq._; in the harz mountains, _sq._; in brunswick, _sq._; in silesia and bohemia, _sq._; in switzerland, _sq._; in sweden and norway, ; among the slavonic peoples, - ; in russia and poland, _sq._; in slavonia, ; in servia, - ; in bulgaria, - ; in bosnia and herzegovina, ; in england, - ; in yorkshire, - ; in northumberland, _sq._; in scotland, - ; martin's account of it in the highlands, ; the need-fire in mull, _sq._; in caithness, - ; w. grant stewart's account of the need-fire, _sq._; alexander carmichael's account, - ; the need-fire in aberdeenshire, ; in perthshire, _sq._; in ireland, ; the use of need-fire a relic of the time when all fires were similarly kindled by the friction of wood, _sq._; the belief that need-fire cannot kindle if any other fire remains alight in the neighbourhood, _sq._; the need-fire among the iroquois of north america, _sq._ § . _the sacrifice of an animal to stay a cattle-plague_, pp. - .--the burnt sacrifice of a calf in england and wales, _sq._; burnt sacrifices of animals in scotland, _sq._; calf burnt in order to break a spell which has been cast on the herd, _sq._; mode in which the burning of a bewitched animal is supposed to break the spell, - ; in burning the bewitched animal you burn the witch herself, ; practice of burning cattle and sheep as sacrifices in the isle of man, - ; by burning a bewitched animal you compel the witch to appear, ; magic sympathy between the witch and the bewitched animal, ; similar sympathy between a were-wolf and his or her human shape, wounds inflicted on the animal are felt by the man or woman, ; were-wolves in europe, - ; in china, _sq._; among the toradjas of central celebes, - _sq._; in the egyptian sudan, _sq._; the were-wolf story in petronius, _sq._; witches like were-wolves can temporarily transform themselves into animals, and wounds inflicted on the transformed animals appear on the persons of the witches, _sq._; instances of such transformations and wounds in scotland, england, ireland, france, and germany, - ; hence the reason for burning bewitched animals is either to burn the witch herself or at all events to compel her to appear, _sq._; the like reason for burning bewitched things, _sq._; similarly by burning alive a person whose likeness a witch has assumed you compel the witch to disclose herself, ; woman burnt alive as a witch in ireland at the end of the nineteenth century, _sq._; bewitched animals sometimes buried alive instead of being burned, - ; calves killed and buried to save the rest of the herd, _sq_. chapter v.--the interpretation of the fire-festivals, pp. - § . _on the fire-festivals in general_ pp. - .--general resemblance of the fire-festivals to each other, _sq._; two explanations of the festivals suggested, one by w. mannhardt that they are sun-charms, the other by dr. e. westermarck that they are purificatory, _sq._; the two explanations perhaps not mutually exclusive, _sq._ § . _the solar theory of the fire-festivals_, pp. - .--theory that the fire-festivals are charms to ensure a supply of sunshine, ; coincidence of two of the festivals with the solstices, _sq._; attempt of the bushmen to warm up the fire of sirius in midwinter by kindling sticks, _sq._; the burning wheels and discs of the fire-festivals may be direct imitations of the sun, ; the wheel which is sometimes used to kindle the fire by friction may also be an imitation of the sun, - ; the influence which the bonfires are supposed to exert on the weather and vegetation may be thought to be due to an increase of solar heat produced by the fires, - ; the effect which the bonfires are supposed to have in fertilizing cattle and women may also be attributed to an increase of solar heat produced by the fires, _sq._; the carrying of lighted torches about the country at the festivals may be explained as an attempt to diffuse the sun's heat, - . § . _the purificatory theory of the fire-festivals_, pp. - .--theory that the fires at the festivals are purificatory, being intended to burn up all harmful things, ; the purificatory or destructive effect of the fires is often alleged by the people who light them, and there is no reason to reject this explanation, _sq._; the great evil against which the fire at the festivals appears to be directed is witchcraft, ; among the evils for which the fire-festivals are deemed remedies the foremost is cattle-disease, and cattle-disease is often supposed to be an effect of witchcraft, _sq._; again, the bonfires are thought to avert hail, thunder, lightning, and various maladies, all of which are attributed to the maleficent arts of witches, _sq._; the burning wheels rolled down hill and the burning discs thrown into the air may be intended to burn the invisible witches, _sq._; on this view the fertility supposed to follow the use of fire results indirectly from breaking the spells of witches, ; on the whole the theory of the purificatory or destructive intention of the fire-festivals seems the more probable, . [transcriber's note: the brief descriptions often found enclosed in square brackets are "sidenotes", which appeared in the original book in the margins of the paragraph following the "sidenote." footnotes were originally at the bottoms of the printed pages.] chapter i between heaven and earth § . _not to touch the earth_ [the priest of aricia and the golden bough] we have travelled far since we turned our backs on nemi and set forth in quest of the secret of the golden bough. with the present volume we enter on the last stage of our long journey. the reader who has had the patience to follow the enquiry thus far may remember that at the outset two questions were proposed for answer: why had the priest of aricia to slay his predecessor? and why, before doing so, had he to pluck the golden bough?[ ] of these two questions the first has now been answered. the priest of aricia, if i am right, was one of those sacred kings or human divinities on whose life the welfare of the community and even the course of nature in general are believed to be intimately dependent. it does not appear that the subjects or worshippers of such a spiritual potentate form to themselves any very clear notion of the exact relationship in which they stand to him; probably their ideas on the point are vague and fluctuating, and we should err if we attempted to define the relationship with logical precision. all that the people know, or rather imagine, is that somehow they themselves, their cattle, and their crops are mysteriously bound up with their divine king, so that according as he is well or ill the community is healthy or sickly, the flocks and herds thrive or languish with disease, and the fields yield an abundant or a scanty harvest. the worst evil which they can conceive of is the natural death of their ruler, whether he succumb to sickness or old age, for in the opinion of his followers such a death would entail the most disastrous consequences on themselves and their possessions; fatal epidemics would sweep away man and beast, the earth would refuse her increase, nay the very frame of nature itself might be dissolved. to guard against these catastrophes it is necessary to put the king to death while he is still in the full bloom of his divine manhood, in order that his sacred life, transmitted in unabated force to his successor, may renew its youth, and thus by successive transmissions through a perpetual line of vigorous incarnations may remain eternally fresh and young, a pledge and security that men and animals shall in like manner renew their youth by a perpetual succession of generations, and that seedtime and harvest, and summer and winter, and rain and sunshine shall never fail. that, if my conjecture is right, was why the priest of aricia, the king of the wood at nemi, had regularly to perish by the sword of his successor. [what was the golden bough?] but we have still to ask, what was the golden bough? and why had each candidate for the arician priesthood to pluck it before he could slay the priest? these questions i will now try to answer. [sacred kings and priests forbidden to touch the ground with their feet.] it will be well to begin by noticing two of those rules or taboos by which, as we have seen, the life of divine kings or priests is regulated. the first of the rules to which i desire to call the reader's attention is that the divine personage may not touch the ground with his foot. this rule was observed by the supreme pontiff of the zapotecs in mexico; he profaned his sanctity if he so much as touched the ground with his foot.[ ] montezuma, emperor of mexico, never set foot on the ground; he was always carried on the shoulders of noblemen, and if he lighted anywhere they laid rich tapestry for him to walk upon.[ ] for the mikado of japan to touch the ground with his foot was a shameful degradation; indeed, in the sixteenth century, it was enough to deprive him of his office. outside his palace he was carried on men's shoulders; within it he walked on exquisitely wrought mats.[ ] the king and queen of tahiti might not touch the ground anywhere but within their hereditary domains; for the ground on which they trod became sacred. in travelling from place to place they were carried on the shoulders of sacred men. they were always accompanied by several pairs of these sanctified attendants; and when it became necessary to change their bearers, the king and queen vaulted on to the shoulders of their new bearers without letting their feet touch the ground.[ ] it was an evil omen if the king of dosuma touched the ground, and he had to perform an expiatory ceremony.[ ] within his palace the king of persia walked on carpets on which no one else might tread; outside of it he was never seen on foot but only in a chariot or on horseback.[ ] in old days the king of siam never set foot upon the earth, but was carried on a throne of gold from place to place.[ ] formerly neither the kings of uganda, nor their mothers, nor their queens might walk on foot outside of the spacious enclosures in which they lived. whenever they went forth they were carried on the shoulders of men of the buffalo clan, several of whom accompanied any of these royal personages on a journey and took it in turn to bear the burden. the king sat astride the bearer's neck with a leg over each shoulder and his feet tucked under the bearer's arms. when one of these royal carriers grew tired he shot the king on to the shoulders of a second man without allowing the royal feet to touch the ground. in this way they went at a great pace and travelled long distances in a day, when the king was on a journey. the bearers had a special hut in the king's enclosure in order to be at hand the moment they were wanted.[ ] among the bakuba or rather bushongo, a nation in the southern region of the congo, down to a few years ago persons of the royal blood were forbidden to touch the ground; they must sit on a hide, a chair, or the back of a slave, who crouched on hands and feet; their feet rested on the feet of others. when they travelled they were carried on the backs of men; but the king journeyed in a litter supported on shafts.[ ] among the ibo people about awka, in southern nigeria, the priest of the earth has to observe many taboos; for example, he may not see a corpse, and if he meets one on the road he must hide his eyes with his wristlet. he must abstain from many foods, such as eggs, birds of all sorts, mutton, dog, bush-buck, and so forth. he may neither wear nor touch a mask, and no masked man may enter his house. if a dog enters his house, it is killed and thrown out. as priest of the earth he may not sit on the bare ground, nor eat things that have fallen on the ground, nor may earth be thrown at him.[ ] according to ancient brahmanic ritual a king at his inauguration trod on a tiger's skin and a golden plate; he was shod with shoes of boar's skin, and so long as he lived thereafter he might not stand on the earth with his bare feet.[ ] [certain persons on certain occasions forbidden to touch the ground with their feet.] but besides persons who are permanently sacred or tabooed and are therefore permanently forbidden to touch the ground with their feet, there are others who enjoy the character of sanctity or taboo only on certain occasions, and to whom accordingly the prohibition in question only applies at the definite seasons during which they exhale the odour of sanctity. thus among the kayans or bahaus of central borneo, while the priestesses are engaged in the performance of certain rites they may not step on the ground, and boards are laid for them to tread on.[ ] at a funeral ceremony observed by night among the michemis, a tibetan tribe near the northern frontier of assam, a priest fantastically bedecked with tiger's teeth, many-coloured plumes, bells, and shells, executed a wild dance for the purpose of exorcising the evil spirits; then all fires were extinguished and a new light was struck by a man suspended by his feet from a beam in the ceiling; "he did not touch the ground," we are told, "in order to indicate that the light came from heaven."[ ] again, newly born infants are strongly tabooed; accordingly in loango they are not allowed to touch the earth.[ ] among the iluvans of malabar the bridegroom on his wedding-day is bathed by seven young men and then carried or walks on planks from the bathing-place to the marriage booth; he may not touch the ground with his feet.[ ] with the dyaks of landak and tajan, two districts of dutch borneo, it is a custom that for a certain time after marriage neither bride nor bridegroom may tread on the earth.[ ] warriors, again, on the war-path are surrounded, so to say, by an atmosphere of taboo; hence some indians of north america might not sit on the bare ground the whole time they were out on a warlike expedition.[ ] in laos the hunting of elephants gives rise to many taboos; one of them is that the chief hunter may not touch the earth with his foot. accordingly, when he alights from his elephant, the others spread a carpet of leaves for him to step upon.[ ] german wiseacres recommended that when witches were led to the block or the stake, they should not be allowed to touch the bare earth, and a reason suggested for the rule was that if they touched the earth they might make themselves invisible and so escape. the sagacious author of _the striped-petticoat philosophy_ in the eighteenth century ridicules the idea as mere silly talk. he admits, indeed, that the women were conveyed to the place of execution in carts; but he denies that there is any deep significance in the cart, and he is prepared to maintain this view by a chemical analysis of the timber of which the cart was built. to clinch his argument he appeals to plain matter of fact and his own personal experience. not a single instance, he assures us with apparent satisfaction, can be produced of a witch who escaped the axe or the fire in this fashion. "i have myself," says he, "in my youth seen divers witches burned, some at arnstadt, some at ilmenau, some at schwenda, a noble village between arnstadt and ilmenau, and some of them were pardoned and beheaded before being burned. they were laid on the earth in the place of execution and beheaded like any other poor sinner; whereas if they could have escaped by touching the earth, not one of them would have failed to do so."[ ] [sacred or tabooed persons apparently thought to be charged with a mysterious virtue like a fluid, which will run to waste or explode if it touches the ground.] apparently holiness, magical virtue, taboo, or whatever we may call that mysterious quality which is supposed to pervade sacred or tabooed persons, is conceived by the primitive philosopher as a physical substance or fluid, with which the sacred man is charged just as a leyden jar is charged with electricity; and exactly as the electricity in the jar can be discharged by contact with a good conductor, so the holiness or magical virtue in the man can be discharged and drained away by contact with the earth, which on this theory serves as an excellent conductor for the magical fluid. hence in order to preserve the charge from running to waste, the sacred or tabooed personage must be carefully prevented from touching the ground; in electrical language he must be insulated, if he is not to be emptied of the precious substance or fluid with which he, as a vial, is filled to the brim. and in many cases apparently the insulation of the tabooed person is recommended as a precaution not merely for his own sake but for the sake of others; for since the virtue of holiness or taboo is, so to say, a powerful explosive which the smallest touch may detonate, it is necessary in the interest of the general safety to keep it within narrow bounds, lest breaking out it should blast, blight, and destroy whatever it comes into contact with. [things as well as persons can be charged with the mysterious quality of holiness or taboo; and when so charged they must be kept from contact with the ground.] but things as well as persons are often charged with the mysterious quality of holiness or taboo; hence it frequently becomes necessary for similar reasons to guard them also from coming into contact with the ground, lest they should in like manner be drained of their valuable properties and be reduced to mere commonplace material objects, empty husks from which the good grain has been eliminated. thus, for example, the most sacred object of the arunta tribe in central australia is, or rather used to be, a pole about twenty feet high, which is completely smeared with human blood, crowned with an imitation of a human head, and set up on the ground where the final initiatory ceremonies of young men are performed. a young gum-tree is chosen to form the pole, and it must be cut down and transported in such a way that it does not touch the earth till it is erected in its place on the holy ground. apparently the pole represents some famous ancestor of the olden time.[ ] [festival of the wild manog tree in british new guinea.] again, at a great dancing festival celebrated by the natives of bartle bay, in british new guinea, a wild mango tree plays a prominent part. the tree must be self-sown, that is, really wild and so young that it has never flowered. it is chosen in the jungle some five or six weeks before the festival, and a circle is cleared round its trunk. from that time the master of the ceremonies and some eight to twenty other men, who have aided him in choosing the tree and in clearing the jungle, become strictly holy or tabooed. they sleep by themselves in a house into which no one else may intrude: they may not wash or drink water, nor even allow it accidentally to touch their bodies: they are forbidden to eat boiled food and the fruit of mango trees: they may drink only the milk of a young coco-nut which has been baked, and they may eat certain fruits and vegetables, such as paw-paws (_carica papaya_) and sugar-cane, but only on condition that they have been baked. all refuse of their food is kept in baskets in their sleeping-house and may not be removed from it till the festival is over. at the time when the men begin to observe these rules of abstinence, some six to ten women, members of the same clan as the master of the ceremonies, enter on a like period of mortification, avoiding the company of the other sex, and refraining from water, all boiled food, and the fruit of the mango tree. these fasting men and women are the principal dancers at the festival. the dancing takes place on a special platform in a temporary village which has been erected for the purpose. when the platform is about to be set up, the fasting men rub the stepping posts and then suck their hands for the purpose of extracting the ghost of any dead man that might chance to be in the post and might be injured by the weight of the platform pressing down on him. having carefully extracted these poor souls, the men carry them away tenderly and set them free in the forest or the long grass. [the wild mango tree not allowed to touch the ground.] on the day before the festival one of the fasting men cuts down the chosen mango tree in the jungle with a stone adze, which is never afterwards put to any other use; an iron tool may not be used for the purpose, though iron tools are now common enough in the district. in cutting down the mango they place nets on the ground to catch any leaves or twigs that might fall from the tree as it is being felled and they surround the trunk with new mats to receive the chips which fly out under the adze of the woodman; for the chips may not drop on the earth. once the tree is down, it is carried to the centre of the temporary village, the greatest care being taken to prevent it from coming into contact with the ground. but when it is brought into the village, the houses are connected with the top of the mango by means of long vines decorated with the streamers. in the afternoon the fasting men and women begin to dance, the men bedizened with gay feathers, armlets, streamers, and anklets, the women flaunting in parti-coloured petticoats and sprigs of croton leaves, which wave from their waistbands as they dance. the dancing stops at sundown, and when the full moon rises over the shoulder of the eastern hill (for the date of the festival seems to be determined with reference to the time of the moon), two chiefs mount the gables of two houses on the eastern side of the square, and, their dusky figures standing sharply out against the moonlight, pray to the evil spirits to go away and not to hurt the people. next morning pigs are killed by being speared as slowly as possible in order that they may squeal loud and long; for the people believe that the mango trees hear the squealing, and are pleased at the sound, and bear plenty of fruit, whereas if they heard no squeals they would bear no fruit. however, the trees have to content themselves with the squeals; the flesh of the pigs is eaten by the people. this ends the festival. [final disposition of the wild mango tree.] next day the mango is taken down from the platform, wrapt in new mats, and carried by the fasting men to their sleeping house, where it is hung from the roof. but after an interval, it may be of many months, the tree is brought forth again. as to the reason for its reappearance in public opinions are divided; but some say that the tree itself orders the master of the ceremonies to bring it forth, appearing to him in his dreams and saying, "let me smell the smoking fat of pigs. so will your pigs be healthy and your crops will grow." be that as it may, out it comes, conducted by the fasting men in their dancing costume; and with it come in the solemn procession all the pots, spoons, cups and so forth used by the fasting men during their period of holiness or taboo, also all the refuse of their food which has been collected for months, and all the fallen leaves and chips of the mango in their bundles of mats. these holy relics are carried in front and the mango tree itself brings up the rear of the procession. while these sacred objects are being handed out of the house, the men who are present rush up, wipe off the hallowed dust which has accumulated on them, and smear it over their own bodies, no doubt in order to steep themselves in their blessed influence. thus the tree is carried as before to the centre of the temporary village, care being again taken not to let it touch the ground. then one of the fasting men takes from a basket a number of young green mangoes, cuts them in pieces, and places them with his own hands in the mouths of his fellows, the other fasting men, who chew the pieces small and turning round spit the morsels in the direction of the setting sun, in order that "the sun should carry the mango bits over the whole country and everyone should know." a portion of the mango tree is then broken off and in the evening it is burnt along with the bundles of leaves, chips, and refuse of food, which have been stored up. what remains of the tree is taken to the house of the master of the ceremonies and hung over the fire-place; it will be brought out again at intervals and burned bit by bit, till all is consumed, whereupon a new mango will be cut down and treated in like manner. the ashes of the holy fire on each occasion are gathered by the people and preserved in the house of the master of the ceremonies.[ ] [the ceremony apparently intended to fertilize the mango trees.] the meaning of these ceremonies is not explained by the authorities who describe them; but we may conjecture that they are intended to fertilize the mango trees and cause them to bear a good crop of fruit. the central feature of the whole ritual is a wild mango tree, so young that it has never flowered: the men who cut it down, carry it into the village, and dance at the festival, are forbidden to eat mangoes: pigs are killed in order that their dying squeals may move the mango trees to bear fruit: at the end of the ceremonies pieces of young green mangoes are solemnly placed in the mouths of the fasting men and are by them spurted out towards the setting sun in order that the luminary may carry the fragments to every part of the country; and finally when after a longer or shorter interval the tree is wholly consumed, its place is supplied by another. all these circumstances are explained simply and naturally by the supposition that the young mango tree is taken as a representative of mangoes generally, that the dances are intended to quicken it, and that it is preserved, like a may-pole of old in england, as a sort of general fund of vegetable life, till the fund being exhausted by the destruction of the tree it is renewed by the importation of a fresh young tree from the forest. we can therefore understand why, as a storehouse of vital energy, the tree should be carefully kept from contact with the ground, lest the pent-up and concentrated energy should escape and dribbling away into the earth be dissipated to no purpose. [sacred objects of various sorts not allowed to touch the ground.] to take other instances of what we may call the conservation of energy in magic or religion by insulating sacred bodies from the ground, the natives of new britain have a secret society called the duk-duk, the members of which masquerade in petticoats of leaves and tall headdresses of wickerwork shaped like candle extinguishers, which descend to the shoulders of the wearers, completely concealing their faces. thus disguised they dance about to the awe and terror, real or assumed, of the women and uninitiated, who take, or pretend to take, them for spirits. when lads are being initiated into the secrets of this august society, the adepts cut down some very large and heavy bamboos, one for each lad, and the novices carry them, carefully wrapt up in leaves, to the sacred ground, where they arrive very tired and weary, for they may not let the bamboos touch the ground nor the sun shine on them. outside the fence of the enclosure every lad deposits his bamboo on a couple of forked sticks and covers it up with nut leaves.[ ] among the carrier indians of north-western america, who burned their dead, the ashes of a chief used to be placed in a box and set on the top of a pole beside his hut: the box was never allowed to touch the ground.[ ] in the omaha tribe of north american indians the sacred clam shell of the elk clan was wrapt up from sight in a mat, placed on a stand, and never suffered to come in contact with the earth.[ ] the cherokees and kindred indian tribes of the united states used to have certain sacred boxes or arks, which they regularly took with them to war. such a holy ark consisted of a square wooden box, which contained "certain consecrated vessels made by beloved superannuated women, and of such various antiquated forms, as would have puzzled adam to have given significant names to each." the leader of a war party and his attendant bore the ark by turns, but they never set it on the ground nor would they themselves sit on the bare earth while they were carrying it against the enemy. where stones were plentiful they rested the ark on them; but where no stones were to be found, they deposited it on short logs. "the indian ark is deemed so sacred and dangerous to be touched, either by their own sanctified warriors, or the spoiling enemy, that they durst not touch it upon any account. it is not to be meddled with by any, except the war chieftain and his waiter, under the penalty of incurring great evil. nor would the most inveterate enemy touch it in the woods, for the very same reason." after their return home they used to hang the ark on the leader's red-painted war pole.[ ] at sipi, near simla, in northern india, an annual fair is held, at which men purchase wives. a square box with a domed top figures prominently at the fair. it is fixed on two poles to be carried on men's shoulders, and long heavily-plaited petticoats hang from it nearly to the ground. three sides of the box are adorned with the head and shoulders of a female figure and the fourth side with a black yak's tail. four men bear the poles, each carrying an axe in his right hand. they dance round, with a swinging rhythmical step, to the music of drums and a pipe. the dance goes on for hours and is thought to avert ill-luck from the fair. it is said that the box is brought to simla from a place sixty miles off by relays of men, who may not stop nor set the box on the ground the whole way.[ ] in scotland, when water was carried from sacred wells to sick people, the water-vessel might not touch the earth.[ ] in some parts of aberdeenshire the last bunch of standing corn, which is commonly viewed as very sacred, being the last refuge of the corn-spirit retreating before the reapers, is not suffered to touch the ground; the master or "gueedman" sits down and receives each handful of corn as it is cut on his lap.[ ] [sacred food not allowed to touch the earth.] again, sacred food may not under certain circumstances be brought into contact with the earth. some of the aborigines of victoria used to regard the fat of the emu as sacred, believing that it had once been the fat of the black man. in taking it from the bird or giving it to another they handled it reverently. any one who threw away the fat or flesh of the emu was held accursed. "the late mr. thomas observed on one occasion, at nerre-nerre-warreen, a remarkable exhibition of the effects of this superstition. an aboriginal child--one attending the school--having eaten some part of the flesh of an emu, threw away the skin. the skin fell to the ground, and this being observed by his parents, they showed by their gestures every token of horror. they looked upon their child as one utterly lost. his desecration of the bird was regarded as a sin for which there was no atonement."[ ] the roumanians of transylvania believe that "every fresh-baked loaf of wheaten bread is sacred, and should a piece inadvertently fall to the ground, it is hastily picked up, carefully wiped and kissed, and if soiled, thrown into the fire--partly as an offering to the dead, and partly because it were a heavy sin to throw away or tread upon any particle of it."[ ] at certain festivals in south-eastern borneo the food which is consumed in the common house may not touch the ground; hence, a little before the festivals take place, foot-bridges made of thin poles are constructed from the private dwellings to the common house.[ ] when hall was living with the esquimaux and grew tired of eating walrus, one of the women brought the head and neck of a reindeer for him to eat. this venison had to be completely wrapt up before it was brought into the house, and once in the house it could only be placed on the platform which served as a bed. "to have placed it on the floor or on the platform behind the fire-lamp, among the walrus, musk-ox, and polar-bear meat which occupy a goodly portion of both of these places, would have horrified the whole town, as, according to the actual belief of the innuits, not another walrus could be secured this year, and there would ever be trouble in catching any more."[ ] but in this case the real scruple appears to have been felt not so much at placing the venison on the ground as at bringing it into contact with walrus meat.[ ] [magical implements and remedies thought to lose their virtue by contact with the ground.] sometimes magical implements and remedies are supposed to lose their virtue by contact with the ground, the volatile essence with which they are impregnated being no doubt drained off into the earth. thus in the boulia district of queensland the magical bone, which the native sorcerer points at his victim as a means of killing him, is never by any chance allowed to touch the earth.[ ] the wives of rajahs in macassar, a district of southern celebes, pride themselves on their luxuriant tresses and are at great pains to oil and preserve them. should the hair begin to grow thin, the lady resorts to many devices to stay the ravages of time; among other things she applies to her locks a fat extracted from crocodiles and venomous snakes. the unguent is believed to be very efficacious, but during its application the woman's feet may not come into contact with the ground, or all the benefit of the nostrum would be lost.[ ] some people in antiquity believed that a woman in hard labour would be delivered if a spear, which had been wrenched from a man's body without touching the ground, were thrown over the house where the sufferer lay. again, according to certain ancient writers, arrows which had been extracted from a body without coming into contact with the earth and laid under sleepers, acted as a love-charm.[ ] among the peasantry of the north-east of scotland the prehistoric weapons called celts went by the name of "thunderbolts" and were coveted as the sure bringers of success, always provided that they were not allowed to fall to the ground.[ ] [serpents eggs or snake stones.] in ancient gaul certain glass or paste beads attained great celebrity as amulets under the name of serpents' eggs; it was believed that serpents, coiling together in a wriggling, writhing mass, generated them from their slaver and shot them into the air from their hissing jaws. if a man was bold and dexterous enough to catch one of these eggs in his cloak before it touched the ground, he rode off on horseback with it at full speed, pursued by the whole pack of serpents, till he was saved by the interposition of a river, which the snakes could not pass. the proof of the egg being genuine was that if it were thrown into a stream it would float up against the current, even though it were hooped in gold. the druids held these beads in high esteem; according to them, the precious objects could only be obtained on a certain day of the moon, and the peculiar virtue that resided in them was to secure success in law suits and free access to kings. pliny knew of a gaulish knight who was executed by the emperor claudius for wearing one of these amulets.[ ] under the name of snake stones (_glain neidr_) or adder stones the beads are still known in those parts of our own country where the celtic population has lingered, with its immemorial superstitions, down to the present or recent times; and the old story of the origin of the beads from the slaver of serpents was believed by the modern peasantry of cornwall, wales, and scotland as by the druids of ancient gaul. in cornwall the time when the serpents united to fashion the beads was commonly said to be at or about midsummer eve; in wales it was usually thought to be spring, especially the eve of may day, and even within recent years persons in the principality have affirmed that they witnessed the great vernal congress of the snakes and saw the magic stone in the midst of the froth. the welsh peasants believe the beads to possess medicinal virtues of many sorts and to be particularly efficacious for all maladies of the eyes. in wales and ireland the beads sometimes went by the name of the magician's or druid's glass (_gleini na droedh_ and _glaine nan druidhe_). specimens of them may be seen in museums; some have been found in british barrows. they are of glass of various colours, green, blue, pink, red, brown, and so forth, some plain and some ribbed. some are streaked with brilliant hues. the beads are perforated, and in the highlands of scotland the hole is explained by saying that when the bead has just been conflated by the serpents jointly, one of the reptiles sticks his tail through the still viscous glass. an englishman who visited scotland in found many of these beads in use throughout the country. they were hung from children's necks to protect them from whooping cough and other ailments. snake stones were, moreover, a charm to ensure prosperity in general and to repel evil spirits. when one of these priceless treasures was not on active service, the owner kept it in an iron box to guard it against fairies, who, as is well known, cannot abide iron.[ ] [medicinal plants, water, are not allowed to touch the earth.] pliny mentions several medicinal plants, which, if they were to retain their healing virtue, ought not to be allowed to touch the earth.[ ] the curious medical treatise of marcellus, a native of bordeaux in the fourth century of our era, abounds with prescriptions of this sort; and we can well believe the writer when he assures us that he borrowed many of his quaint remedies from the lips of common folk and peasants rather than from the books of the learned.[ ] thus he tells us that certain white stones found in the stomachs of young swallows assuage the most persistent headache, always provided that their virtue be not impaired by contact with the ground.[ ] another of his cures for the same malady is a wreath of fleabane placed on the head, but it must not touch the earth.[ ] on the same condition a decoction of the root of elecampane in wine kills worms; a fern, found growing on a tree, relieves the stomach-ache; and the pastern-bone of a hare is an infallible remedy for colic, provided, first, it be found in the dung of a wolf, second, that it docs not touch the ground, and, third, that it is not touched by a woman.[ ] another cure for colic is effected by certain hocus-pocus with a scrap of wool from the forehead of a first-born lamb, if only the lamb, instead of being allowed to fall to the ground, has been caught by hand as it dropped from its dam.[ ] in andjra, a district of morocco, the people attribute many magical virtues to rain-water which has fallen on the twenty-seventh day of april, old style; accordingly they collect it and use it for a variety of purposes. mixed with tar and sprinkled on the door-posts it prevents snakes and scorpions from entering the house: sprinkled on heaps of threshed corn it protects them from the evil eye: mixed with an egg, henna, and seeds of cress it is an invaluable medicine for sick cows: poured over a plate, on which a passage of the koran has been written, it strengthens the memory of schoolboys who drink it; and if you mix it with cowdung and red earth and paint rings with the mixture round the trunks of your fig-trees at sunset on midsummer day, you may depend on it that the trees will bear an excellent crop and will not shed their fruit untimely on the ground. but in order to preserve these remarkable properties it is absolutely essential that the water should on no account be allowed to touch the ground; some say too that it should not be exposed to the sun nor breathed upon by anybody.[ ] again, the moors ascribe great magical efficacy to what they call "the sultan of the oleander," which is a stalk of oleander with a cluster of four pairs of leaves springing from it. they think that the magical virtue is greatest if the stalk has been cut immediately before midsummer. but when the plant is brought into the house, the branches may not touch the ground, lest they should lose their marvellous qualities.[ ] in the olden days, before a lithuanian or prussian farmer went forth to plough for the first time in spring, he called in a wizard to perform a certain ceremony for the good of the crops. the sage seized a mug of beer with his teeth, quaffed the liquor, and then tossed the mug over his head. this signified that the corn in that year should grow taller than a man. but the mug might not fall to the ground; it had to be caught by somebody stationed at the wizard's back, for if it fell to the ground the consequence naturally would be that the corn also would be laid low on the earth.[ ] § . _not to see the sun_ [sacred persons not allowed to see the sun.] the second rule to be here noted is that the sun may not shine upon the divine person. this rule was observed both by the mikado and by the pontiff of the zapotecs. the latter "was looked upon as a god whom the earth was not worthy to hold, nor the sun to shine upon."[ ] the japanese would not allow that the mikado should expose his sacred person to the open air, and the sun was not thought worthy to shine on his head.[ ] the indians of granada, in south america, "kept those who were to be rulers or commanders, whether men or women, locked up for several years when they were children, some of them seven years, and this so close that they were not to see the sun, for if they should happen to see it they forfeited their lordship, eating certain sorts of food appointed; and those who were their keepers at certain times went into their retreat or prison and scourged them severely."[ ] thus, for example, the heir to the throne of bogota, who was not the son but the sister's son of the king, had to undergo a rigorous training from his infancy: he lived in complete retirement in a temple, where he might not see the sun nor eat salt nor converse with a woman: he was surrounded by guards who observed his conduct and noted all his actions: if he broke a single one of the rules laid down for him, he was deemed infamous and forfeited all his rights to the throne.[ ] so, too, the heir to the kingdom of sogamoso, before succeeding to the crown, had to fast for seven years in the temple, being shut up in the dark and not allowed to see the sun or light.[ ] the prince who was to become inca of peru had to fast for a month without seeing light.[ ] on the day when a brahman student of the veda took a bath, to signify that the time of his studentship was at an end, he entered a cow-shed before sunrise, hung over the door a skin with the hair inside, and sat there; on that day the sun should not shine upon him.[ ] [tabooed persons not allowed to see the sun; certain persons forbidden to see fire.] again, women after childbirth and their offspring are more or less tabooed all the world over; hence in corea the rays of the sun are rigidly excluded from both mother and child for a period of twenty-one or a hundred days, according to their rank, after the birth has taken place.[ ] among some of the tribes on the north-west coast of new guinea a woman may not leave the house for months after childbirth. when she does go out, she must cover her head with a hood or mat; for if the sun were to shine upon her, it is thought that one of her male relations would die.[ ] again, mourners are everywhere taboo; accordingly in mourning the ainos of japan wear peculiar caps in order that the sun may not shine upon their heads.[ ] during a solemn fast of three days the indians of costa rica eat no salt, speak as little as possible, light no fires, and stay strictly indoors, or if they go out during the day they carefully cover themselves from the light of the sun, believing that exposure to the sun's rays would turn them black.[ ] on yule night it has been customary in parts of sweden from time immemorial to go on pilgrimage, whereby people learn many secret things and know what is to happen in the coming year. as a preparation for this pilgrimage, "some secrete themselves for three days previously in a dark cellar, so as to be shut out altogether from the light of heaven. others retire at an early hour of the preceding morning to some out-of-the-way place, such as a hay-loft, where they bury themselves in the hay, that they may neither see nor hear any living creature; and here they remain, in silence and fasting, until after sundown; whilst there are those who think it sufficient if they rigidly abstain from food on the day before commencing their wanderings. during this period of probation a man ought not to see fire, but should this have happened, he must strike a light with flint and steel, whereby the evil that would otherwise have ensued will be obviated."[ ] during the sixteen days that a pima indian is undergoing purification for killing an apache he may not see a blazing fire.[ ] [the story of prince sunless.] acarnanian peasants tell of a handsome prince called sunless, who would die if he saw the sun. so he lived in an underground palace on the site of the ancient oeniadae, but at night he came forth and crossed the river to visit a famous enchantress who dwelt in a castle on the further bank. she was loth to part with him every night long before the sun was up, and as he turned a deaf ear to all her entreaties to linger, she hit upon the device of cutting the throats of all the cocks in the neighbourhood. so the prince, whose ear had learned to expect the shrill clarion of the birds as the signal of the growing light, tarried too long, and hardly had he reached the ford when the sun rose over the aetolian mountains, and its fatal beams fell on him before he could regain his dark abode.[ ] notes: [ ] _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, i. . [ ] h.h. bancroft, _native races of the pacific states_ (london, - ), ii. ; brasseur de bourbourg, _histoire des nations civilisées du mexique et de l'amérique-centrale_ (paris, - ), iii. . [ ] _manuscrit ramirez, histoire de l'origine des indiens_, publié par d. charnay (paris, ), p. ; j. de acosta, _the natural and moral history of the indies_, bk. vii. chap. , vol. ii. p. of e. grimston's translation, edited by (sir) clements r. markham (hakluyt society, london, ). [ ] _memorials of the empire of japon in the xvi. and xvii. centuries_, edited by t. rundall (hakluyt society, london, ), pp. , ; b. varenius, _descriptio regni japoniae et siam_ (cambridge, ), p. ; caron, "account of japan," in john pinkerton's _voyages and travels_ (london, - ), vii. ; kaempfer, "history of japan," in _id._ vii. . [ ] w. ellis, _polynesian researches_, second edition (london, - ), iii. _sq._; captain james wilson, _missionary voyage to the southern pacific ocean_ (london, ), p. . [ ] a. bastian, _der mensch in der geschichte_ (leipsic, ), iii. . [ ] athenaeus, xii. , p. c. [ ] _the voiages and travels of john struys_ (london, ), p. . [ ] rev. j. roscoe, "further notes on the manners and customs of the baganda," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxxii. ( ) pp. , ; _id., the baganda_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ compare l. decle, _three years in savage africa_ (london, ), p. note: "before horses had been introduced into uganda the king and his mother never walked, but always went about perched astride the shoulders of a slave--a most ludicrous sight. in this way they often travelled hundreds of miles." the use both of horses and of chariots by royal personages may often have been intended to prevent their sacred feet from touching the ground. [ ] e. torday et t.a. joyce, _les bushongo_ (brussels, ), p. . [ ] northcote w. thomas, _anthropological report on the ibo-speaking peoples of nigeria_ (london, ), i. _sq._ [ ] _satapatha brâhmana_, translated by julius eggeling, part iii. (oxford, ) pp. , , , , _sq. (sacred books of the east_, vol. xli.). [ ] a.w. nieuwenhuis, _quer durch borneo_ (leyden, - ), i. . [ ] letter of missionary krick, in _annales de la propagation de la foi_, xxvi. ( ) pp. - . [ ] pechuel-loesche, "indiscretes aus loango," _zeitschrift für ethnologie_, x. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] edgar thurston, _ethnographic notes in southern india_ (madras, ), p. . [ ] m.c. schadee, "het familieleven en familierecht der dajaks van landak en tajan," _bijdragen tot de taal-land en volkenkunde van nederlandsch-indié_, lxiii. ( ) p. . [ ] james adair, _history of the american indians_ (london, ), p. ; _narrative of the captivity and adventures of john tanner_ (london, ), p. . as to the taboos to which warriors are subject see _taboo and the perils of the soul_, pp. _sqq._ [ ] etienne aymonier, _notes sur le laos_ (saigon, ), p. . [ ] _die gestritgelte rockenphilosophie_*[ ] (chemnitz, ), pp. _sqq._ [ ] baldwin spencer and f.j. gillen, _native tribes of central australia_ (london, ), pp. , _sqq._, ; _id., across australia_ (london, ), ii. , _sq._ [ ] c.g. seligmann, m.d., _the melanesians of british new guinea_ (cambridge, ), pp. - . [ ] george brown, d.d., _melanesians and polynesians_ (london, ), pp. _sq._, . as to the duk-duk society, see below, vol. ii. pp. _sq._ [ ] john keast lord, _the naturalist in vancouver island and british columbia_ (london, ), ii. . [ ] edwin james, _account of an expedition from pittsburgh to the rocky mountains_ (london, ), ii. ; rev. j. owen dorsey, "omaha sociology," _third annual report of the bureau of ethnology_ (washington, ), p. . [ ] james adair, _history of the american indians_ (london, ), pp. - . [ ] (sir) henry babington smith, in _folk-lore_, v. ( ) p. . [ ] miss c.f. gordon cumming, _in the hebrides_ (london, ), p. . [ ] w. gregor, "quelques coutumes du nord-est du comté d'aberdeen," _revue des traditions populaires_, iii. ( ) p. b. compare _spirits of the corn and of the wild_, i. _sq._ [ ] r. brough smyth, _aborigines of victoria_ (melbourne and london, ), i. . [ ] e. gerard, _the land beyond the forest_ (edinburgh and london, ), ii. . [ ] f. grabowsky, "der distrikt dusson timor in südost-borneo und seine bewohner," _das ausland_, , no. , p. . [ ] _narrative of the second arctic expedition made by charles f. hall_, edited by prof. j.e. nourse (washington, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] see _taboo and perils of the soul_, pp. _sqq._ [ ] walter e. roth, _ethnological studies among the north-west-central queensland aborigines_ (brisbane and london, ), p. , § . the custom of killing a man by pointing a bone or stick at him, while the sorcerer utters appropriate curses, is common among the tribes of central australia; but amongst them there seems to be no objection to place the bone or stick on the ground; on the contrary, an arunta wizard inserts the bone or stick in the ground while he invokes death and destruction on his enemy. see baldwin spencer and f.j. gillen, _native tribes of central australia_ (london, ), pp. _sqq.; id., northern tribes of central australia_ (london, ), pp. _sqq._ [ ] hugh low, _sarawak_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] pliny, _naturalis historia_ xxviii. _sq._ [ ] rev. walter gregor, _notes on the folk-lore of the north-east of scotland_ (london, ), p. . as to the superstitions attaching to stone arrowheads and axeheads (celts), commonly known as "thunderbolts," in the british islands, see w.w. skeat, "snakestones and stone thunderbolts," _folklore_, xxiii. ( ) pp. _sqq._; and as to such superstitions in general, see chr. blinkenberg, _the thunderweapon in religion and folklore_ (cambridge, ). [ ] pliny, _naturalis historia_, xxix. - . [ ] w. borlase, _antiquities, historical and monumental, of the county of cornwall_ (london, ), pp. _sq._; j. brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. ; j.g. dalyell, _darker superstitions of scotland_ (edinburgh, ), pp. _sq._; daniel wilson, _the archaeology and prehistoric annals of scotland_ (edinburgh, ), pp. _sqq._; lieut.-col. forbes leslie, _the early races of scotland and their monuments_ (edinburgh, ), i. _sqq._; j.g. campbell, _witchcraft and second sight in the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), pp. - ; marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), pp. _sq._; j.c. davies, _folk-lore of west and mid-wales_ (aberystwyth, ), p. . compare w.w. skeat, "snakestones and stone thunderbolts," _folk-lore,_ xxiii. ( ) pp. _sqq._ the superstition is described as follows by edward lhwyd in a letter quoted by w. borlase (_op. cit._ p. ): "in most parts of wales, and throughout all scotland, and in cornwall, we find it a common opinion of the vulgar, that about midsummer-eve (though in the time they do not all agree) it is usual for snakes to meet in companies; and that, by joining heads together, and hissing, a kind of bubble is formed, which the rest, by continual hissing, blow on till it passes quite through the body, and then it immediately hardens, and resembles a glass-ring, which whoever finds (as some old women and children are persuaded) shall prosper in all his undertakings. the rings thus generated, are called _gleineu nadroeth_; in english, snake-stones. they are small glass amulets, commonly about half as wide as our finger-rings, but much thicker, of a green colour usually, though sometimes blue, and waved with red and white." [ ] pliny, _naturalis historia_ xxiv. and , xxv. . [ ] marcellus, _de medicamentis_, ed. g. helmreich (leipsic, ), preface, p. i.: "_nec solum veteres medicinae artis auctores latino dumtaxat sermone perscriptos ... lectione scrutatus sum, sed etiam ab agrestibus et plebeis remedia fortuita atque simplicia, quae experimentis probaverant didici_." as to marcellus and his work, see jacob grimm, "ueber marcellus burdigalensis," _abhandlungen der koniglichen akademie der wissenschaft zu berlin_, , pp. - ; _id._, "ueber die marcellischen formeln," _ibid._. , pp. - . [ ] marcellus, _de medicamentis_, i. . [ ] marcellus, _op. cit._ i. . [ ] marcellus, _op. cit._ xxviii. and , xxix. . [ ] marcellus, _op. cit._ xxix. . [ ] edward westermarck, "midsummer customs in morocco," _folklore_, xvi. ( ) pp. _sq._; _id., ceremonies and beliefs connected with agriculture, certain dates of the solar year, and the weather in morocco_ (helsingfors, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] e. westermarck, "midsummer customs in morocco," _folk-lore_, xvi. ( ) p. _id., ceremonies and beliefs connected with agriculture, certain dates of the solar year, and the weather in morocco_ (helsingfors, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] matthäus prätorius, _deliciae prussicae_, herausgegeben von dr. w. pierson (berlin, ), p. . [ ] h.h. bancroft, _native races of the pacific states_ (london, - ), ii. ; brasseur de bourbourg, _histoire des nations civilisées du mexique et de l'amérique centrale_ (paris, - ), iii. . [ ] kaempfer, "history of japan," in j. pinkerton's _voyages and travels_, vii. ; caron, "account of japan," _ibid._ vii. ; b. varenius, _descriptio regni japoniae et siam_ (cambridge, ), p. : _"radiis solis caput nunquam illustrabatur: in apertum acrem non procedebat."_ [ ] a. de herrera, _general history of the vast continent and islands of america,_ trans, by capt. john stevens (london, - ), v. . [ ] h. ternaux-compans, _essai sur l'ancien cundinamarca_ (paris, n.d.), p. ; theodor waitz, _anthropologie der naturvölker_ iv. (leipsic, ) p. . [ ] alonzo de zurita, "rapport sur les differentes classes de chefs de la nouvelle-espagne," p. , in h. ternaux-compans's _voyages, relations et mémoires originaux, pour servir à l'histoire de la découvertede l'amérique_ (paris, ); th. waitz, _l.c._; a. bastian, _die culturländer des alten amerika_ (berlin, ), ii. . [ ] cieza de leon, _second part of the chronicle of peru_ (hakluyt society, london, ), p. . [ ] _the grihya sûtras_, translated by h. oldenberg, part ii. (oxford, ) pp. , (_sacred books of the east_, vol. xxx.). umbrellas appear to have been sometimes used in ritual for the purpose of preventing the sunlight from falling on sacred persons or things. see w. caland, _altindisches zauberritual_ (amsterdam, ), p. note . at an athenian festival called scira the priestess of athena, the priest of poseidon, and the priest of the sun walked from the acropolis under the shade of a huge white umbrella which was borne over their heads by the eteobutads. see harpocration and suidas, _s.v._ [greek: skiron]; scholiast on aristophanes, _eccles._ . [ ] mrs. bishop, _korea and her neighbours_ (london, ), ii. . [ ] j.l. van hasselt, "eenige aanteekeningen aangaande de bewoners der n. westkust van nieuw guinea," _tijdschrift voor indische taal-landen volkenkunde_, xxxi. ( ) p. . [ ] a. bastian, _die völker des östlichen asien_, v. (jena, ) p. . [ ] w.m. gabb, "on the indian tribes and languages of costa rica," _proceedings of the american philosophical society held at philadelphia_, xiv. (philadelphia, ), p. . [ ] l. lloyd, _peasant life in sweden_ (london, ), p. . [ ] h.h. bancroft, _native races of the pacific states_, i. . see _taboo and the perils of the soul_, p. . [ ] l. heuzey, _le mont olympe et l'acarnanie_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ chapter ii the seclusion of girls at puberty § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in africa_ [girls at puberty forbidden to touch the ground and to see the sun; seclusion of girls at puberty among the a-kamba; seclusion of girls at puberty among the baganda.] now it is remarkable that the foregoing two rules--not to touch the ground and not to see the sun--are observed either separately or conjointly by girls at puberty in many parts of the world. thus amongst the negroes of loango girls at puberty are confined in separate huts, and they may not touch the ground with any part of their bare body.[ ] among the zulus and kindred tribes of south africa, when the first signs of puberty shew themselves "while a girl is walking, gathering wood, or working in the field, she runs to the river and hides herself among the reeds for the day, so as not to be seen by men. she covers her head carefully with her blanket that the sun may not shine on it and shrivel her up into a withered skeleton, as would result from exposure to the sun's beams. after dark she returns to her home and is secluded" in a hut for some time.[ ] during her seclusion, which lasts for about a fortnight, neither she nor the girls who wait upon her may drink any milk, lest the cattle should die. and should she be overtaken by the first flow while she is in the fields, she must, after hiding in the bush, scrupulously avoid all pathways in returning home.[ ] a reason for this avoidance is assigned by the a-kamba of british east africa, whose girls under similar circumstances observe the same rule. "a girl's first menstruation is a very critical period of her life according to a-kamba beliefs. if this condition appears when she is away from the village, say at work in the fields, she returns at once to her village, but is careful to walk through the grass and not on a path, for if she followed a path and a stranger accidentally trod on a spot of blood and then cohabited with a member of the opposite sex before the girl was better again, it is believed that she would never bear a child." she remains at home till the symptoms have ceased, and during this time she may be fed by none but her mother. when the flux is over, her father and mother are bound to cohabit with each other, else it is believed that the girl would be barren all her life.[ ] similarly, among the baganda, when a girl menstruated for the first time she was secluded and not allowed to handle food; and at the end of her seclusion the kinsman with whom she was staying (for among the baganda young people did not reside with their parents) was obliged to jump over his wife, which with the baganda is regarded as equivalent to having intercourse with her. should the girl happen to be living near her parents at the moment when she attained to puberty, she was expected on her recovery to inform them of the fact, whereupon her father jumped over her mother. were this custom omitted, the baganda, like the a-kamba, thought that the girl would never have children or that they would die in infancy.[ ] thus the pretence of sexual intercourse between the parents or other relatives of the girl was a magical ceremony to ensure her fertility. it is significant that among the baganda the first menstruation was often called a marriage, and the girl was spoken of as a bride.[ ] these terms so applied point to a belief like that of the siamese, that a girl's first menstruation results from her defloration by one of a host of aerial spirits, and that the wound thus inflicted is repeated afterwards every month by the same ghostly agency.[ ] for a like reason, probably, the baganda imagine that a woman who does not menstruate exerts a malign influence on gardens and makes them barren[ ] if she works in them. for not being herself fertilized by a spirit, how can she fertilize the garden? [seclusion of girls at puberty among the tribes of the tanganyika plateau.] among the amambwe, winamwanga, alungu, and other tribes of the great plateau to the west of lake tanganyika, "when a young girl knows that she has attained puberty, she forthwith leaves her mother's hut, and hides herself in the long grass near the village, covering her face with a cloth and weeping bitterly. towards sunset one of the older women--who, as directress of the ceremonies, is called _nachimbusa_-- follows her, places a cooking-pot by the cross-roads, and boils therein a concoction of various herbs, with which she anoints the neophyte. at nightfall the girl is carried on the old woman's back to her mother's hut. when the customary period of a few days has elapsed, she is allowed to cook again, after first whitewashing the floor of the hut. but, by the following month, the preparations for her initiation are complete. the novice must remain in her hut throughout the whole period of initiation, and is carefully guarded by the old women, who accompany her whenever she leaves her quarters, veiling her head with a native cloth. the ceremonies last for at least one month." during this period of seclusion, drumming and songs are kept up within the mother's hut by the village women, and no male, except, it is said, the father of twins, is allowed to enter. the directress of the rites and the older women instruct the young girl as to the elementary facts of life, the duties of marriage, and the rules of conduct, decorum, and hospitality to be observed by a married woman. amongst other things the damsel must submit to a series of tests such as leaping over fences, thrusting her head into a collar made of thorns, and so on. the lessons which she receives are illustrated by mud figures of animals and of the common objects of domestic life. moreover, the directress of studies embellishes the walls of the hut with rude pictures, each with its special significance and song, which must be understood and learned by the girl.[ ] in the foregoing account the rule that a damsel at puberty may neither see the sun nor touch the ground seems implied by the statement that on the first discovery of her condition she hides in long grass and is carried home after sunset on the back of an old woman. [seclusion of girls at puberty among the tribes of british central africa.] among the nyanja-speaking tribes of central angoniland, in british central africa, when a young girl finds that she has become a woman, she stands silent by the pathway leading to the village, her face wrapt in her calico. an old woman, finding her there, takes her off to a stream to bathe; after that the girl is secluded for six days in the old woman's hut. she eats her porridge out of an old basket and her relish, in which no salt is put, from a potsherd. the basket is afterwards thrown away. on the seventh day the aged matrons gather together, go with the girl to a stream, and throw her into the water. in returning they sing songs, and the old woman, who directs the proceedings, carries the maiden on her back. then they spread a mat and fetch her husband and set the two down on the mat and shave his head. when it is dark, the old women escort the girl to her husband's hut. there the _ndiwo_ relish is cooking on the fire. during the night the woman rises and puts some salt in the pot. next morning, before dawn, while all is dark and the villagers have not yet opened their doors, the young married woman goes off and gives some of the relish to her mother and to the old woman who was mistress of the ceremony. this relish she sets down at the doors of their houses and goes away. and in the morning, when the sun has risen and all is light in the village, the two women open their doors, and there they find the relish with the salt in it; and they take of it and rub it on their feet and under their arm-pits; and if there are little children in the house, they eat of it. and if the young wife has a kinsman who is absent from the village, some of the relish is put on a splinter of bamboo and kept against his return, that when he comes he, too, may rub his feet with it. but if the woman finds that her husband is impotent, she does not rise betimes and go out in the dark to lay the relish at the doors of her mother and the old woman. and in the morning, when the sun is up and all the village is light, the old women open their doors, and see no relish there, and they know what has happened, and so they go wilily to work. for they persuade the husband to consult the diviner that he may discover how to cure his impotence; and while he is closeted with the wizard, they fetch another man, who finishes the ceremony with the young wife, in order that the relish may be given out and that people may rub their feet with it. but if it happens that when a girl comes to maturity she is not yet betrothed to any man, and therefore has no husband to go to, the matrons tell her that she must go to a lover instead. and this is the custom which they call _chigango_. so in the evening she takes her cooking pot and relish and hies away to the quarters of the young bachelors, and they very civilly sleep somewhere else that night. and in the morning the girl goes back to the _kuka_ hut.[ ] [abstinence from salt associated with a rule of chastity in many tribes.] from the foregoing account it appears that among these tribes no sooner has a girl attained to womanhood than she is expected and indeed required to give proof of her newly acquired powers by cohabiting with a man, whether her husband or another. and the abstinence from salt during the girl's seclusion is all the more remarkable because as soon as the seclusion is over she has to use salt for a particular purpose, to which the people evidently attach very great importance, since in the event of her husband proving impotent she is even compelled, apparently, to commit adultery in order that the salted relish may be given out as usual. in this connexion it deserves to be noted that among the wagogo of german east africa women at their monthly periods may not sleep with their husbands and may not put salt in food.[ ] a similar rule is observed by the nyanja-speaking tribes of central angoniland, with whose puberty customs we are here concerned. among them, we are told, "some superstition exists with regard to the use of salt. a woman during her monthly sickness must on no account put salt into any food she is cooking, lest she give her husband or children a disease called _tsempo_ (_chitsoko soko_) but calls a child to put it in, or, as the song goes, '_natira nichere ni bondo chifukwa n'kupanda mwana_' and pours in the salt by placing it on her knee, because there is no child handy. should a party of villagers have gone to make salt, all sexual intercourse is forbidden among the people of the village, until the people who have gone to make the salt (from grass) return. when they do come back, they must make their entry into the village at night, and no one must see them. then one of the elders of the village sleeps with his wife. she then cooks some relish, into which she puts some of the salt. this relish is handed round to the people who went to make the salt, who rub it on their feet and under their armpits."[ ] hence it would seem that in the mind of these people abstinence from salt is somehow associated with the idea of chastity. the same association meets us in the customs of many peoples in various parts of the world. for example, ancient hindoo ritual prescribed that for three nights after a husband had brought his bride home, the two should sleep on the ground, remain chaste, and eat no salt.[ ] among the baganda, when a man was making a net, he had to refrain from eating salt and meat and from living with his wife; these restrictions he observed until the net took its first catch of fish. similarly, so long as a fisherman's nets or traps were in the water, he must live apart from his wife, and neither he nor she nor their children might eat salt or meat.[ ] evidence of the same sort could be multiplied,[ ] but without going into it further we may say that for some reason which is not obvious to us primitive man connects salt with the intercourse of the sexes and therefore forbids the use of that condiment in a variety of circumstances in which he deems continence necessary or desirable. as there is nothing which the savage regards as a greater bar between the sexes than the state of menstruation, he naturally prohibits the use of salt to women and girls at their monthly periods. [seclusion of girls at puberty among the tribes about lake nyassa and on the zambesi.] with the awa-nkonde, a tribe at the northern end of lake nyassa, it is a rule that after her first menstruation a girl must be kept apart, with a few companions of her own sex, in a darkened house. the floor is covered with dry banana leaves, but no fire may be lit in the house, which is called "the house of the awasungu," that is, "of maidens who have no hearts."[ ] when a girl reaches puberty, the wafiomi of eastern africa hold a festival at which they make a noise with a peculiar kind of rattle. after that the girl remains for a year in the large common hut (_tembe_), where she occupies a special compartment screened off from the men's quarters. she may not cut her hair or touch food, but is fed by other women. at night, however, she quits the hut and dances with young men.[ ] among the barotse or marotse of the upper zambesi, "when a girl arrives at the age of puberty she is sent into the fields, where a hut is constructed far from the village. there, with two or three companions, she spends a month, returning home late and starting before dawn in order not to be seen by the men. the women of the village visit her, bringing food and honey, and singing and dancing to amuse her. at the end of a month her husband comes and fetches her. it is only after this ceremony that women have the right to smear themselves with ochre."[ ] we may suspect that the chief reason why the girl during her seclusion may visit her home only by night is a fear, not so much lest she should be seen by men, as that she might be seen by the sun. among the wafiomi, as we have just learned, the young woman in similar circumstances is even free to dance with men, provided always that the dance is danced at night. the ceremonies among the barotse or marotse are somewhat more elaborate for a girl of the royal family. she is shut up for three months in a place which is kept secret from the public; only the women of her family know where it is. there she sits alone in the darkness of the hut, waited on by female slaves, who are strictly forbidden to speak and may communicate with her and with each other only by signs. during all this time, though she does nothing, she eats much, and when at last she comes forth, her appearance is quite changed, so fat has she grown. she is then led by night to the river and bathed in presence of all the women of the village. next day she flaunts before the public in her gayest attire, her head bedecked with ornaments and her face mottled with red paint. so everybody knows what has happened.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the thonga on delagoa bay.] among the northern clans of the thonga tribe, in south-eastern africa, about delagoa bay, when a girl thinks that the time of her nubility is near, she chooses an adoptive mother, perhaps in a neighbouring village. when the symptoms appear, she flies away from her own village and repairs to that of her adopted mother "to weep near her." after that she is secluded with several other girls in the same condition for a month. they are shut up in a hut, and whenever they come outside they must wear a dirty greasy cloth over their faces as a veil. every morning they are led to a pool and plunged in the water up to their necks. initiated girls or women accompany them, singing obscene songs and driving away with sticks any man who meets them; for no man may see a girl during this time of seclusion. if he saw her, it is said that he would be struck blind. on their return from the river, the girls are again imprisoned in the hut, where they remain wet and shivering, for they may not go near the fire to warm themselves. during their seclusion they listen to lascivious songs sung by grown women and are instructed in sexual matters. at the end of the month the adoptive mother brings the girl home to her true mother and presents her with a pot of beer.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the caffre tribes of south africa.] among the caffre tribes of south africa the period of a girl's seclusion at puberty varies with the rank of her father. if he is a rich man, it may last twelve days; if he is a chief, it may last twenty-four days.[ ] and when it is over, the girl rubs herself over with red earth, and strews finely powdered red earth on the ground, before she leaves the hut where she has been shut up. finally, though she was forbidden to drink milk all the days of her separation, she washes out her mouth with milk, and is from that moment regarded as a full-grown woman.[ ] afterwards, in the dusk of the evening, she carries away all the objects with which she came into contact in the hut during her seclusion and buries them secretly in a sequestered spot.[ ] when the girl is a chief's daughter the ceremonies at her liberation from the hut are more elaborate than usual. she is led forth from the hut by a son of her father's councillor, who, wearing the wings of a blue crane, the badge of bravery, on his head, escorts her to the cattle kraal, where cows are slaughtered and dancing takes place. large skins full of milk are sent to the spot from neighbouring villages; and after the dances are over the girl drinks milk for the first time since the day she entered into retreat. but the first mouthful is drunk by the girl's aunt or other female relative who had charge of her during her seclusion; and a little of it is poured on the fire-place.[ ] amongst the zulus, when the girl was a princess royal, the end of her time of separation was celebrated by a sort of saturnalia: law and order were for the time being in abeyance: every man, woman, and child might appropriate any article of property: the king abstained from interfering; and if during this reign of misrule he was robbed of anything he valued he could only recover it by paying a fine.[ ] among the basutos, when girls at puberty are bathed as usual by the matrons in a river, they are hidden separately in the turns and bends of the stream, and told to cover their heads, as they will be visited by a large serpent. their limbs are then plastered with clay, little masks of straw are put on their faces, and thus arrayed they daily follow each other in procession, singing melancholy airs, to the fields, there to learn the labours of husbandry in which a great part of their adult life will be passed.[ ] we may suppose, though we are not told, that the straw masks which they wear in these processions are intended to hide their faces from the gaze of men and the rays of the sun. [seclusion of girls at puberty in the lower congo.] among the tribes in the lower valley of the congo, such as the bavili, when a girl arrives at puberty, she has to pass two or three months in seclusion in a small hut built for the purpose. the hair of her head is shaved off, and every day the whole of her body is smeared with a red paint (_takulla_) made from a powdered wood mixed with water. some of her companions reside in the hut with her and prepare the paint for her use. a woman is appointed to take charge of the hut and to keep off intruders. at the end of her confinement she is taken to water by the women of her family and bathed; the paint is rubbed off her body, her arms and legs are loaded with brass rings, and she is led in solemn procession under an umbrella to her husband's house. if these ceremonies were not performed, the people believe that the girl would be barren or would give birth to monsters, that the rain would cease to fall, the earth to bear fruit, and the fishing to be successful.[ ] such serious importance do these savages ascribe to the performance of rites which to us seem so childish. § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in new ireland, new guinea, and indonesia_ [seclusion of girls at puberty in new ireland.] in new ireland girls are confined for four or five years in small cages, being kept in the dark and not allowed to set foot on the ground. the custom has been thus described by an eye-witness. "i heard from a teacher about some strange custom connected with some of the young girls here, so i asked the chief to take me to the house where they were. the house was about twenty-five feet in length, and stood in a reed and bamboo enclosure, across the entrance to which a bundle of dried grass was suspended to show that it was strictly '_tabu_.' inside the house were three conical structures about seven or eight feet in height, and about ten or twelve feet in circumference at the bottom, and for about four feet from the ground, at which point they tapered off to a point at the top. these cages were made of the broad leaves of the pandanus-tree, sewn quite close together so that no light and little or no air could enter. on one side of each is an opening which is closed by a double door of plaited cocoa-nut tree and pandanus-tree leaves. about three feet from the ground there is a stage of bamboos which forms the floor. in each of these cages we were told there was a young woman confined, each of whom had to remain for at least four or five years, without ever being allowed to go outside the house. i could scarcely credit the story when i heard it; the whole thing seemed too horrible to be true. i spoke to the chief, and told him that i wished to see the inside of the cages, and also to see the girls that i might make them a present of a few beads. he told me that it was '_tabu_,' forbidden for any men but their own relations to look at them; but i suppose the promised beads acted as an inducement, and so he sent away for some old lady who had charge, and who alone is allowed to open the doors. while we were waiting we could hear the girls talking to the chief in a querulous way as if objecting to something or expressing their fears. the old woman came at length and certainly she did not seem a very pleasant jailor or guardian; nor did she seem to favour the request of the chief to allow us to see the girls, as she regarded us with anything but pleasant looks. however, she had to undo the door when the chief told her to do so, and then the girls peeped out at us, and, when told to do so, they held out their hands for the beads. i, however, purposely sat at some distance away and merely held out the beads to them, as i wished to draw them quite outside, that i might inspect the inside of the cages. this desire of mine gave rise to another difficulty, as these girls were not allowed to put their feet to the ground all the time they were confined in these places. however, they wished to get the beads, and so the old lady had to go outside and collect a lot of pieces of wood and bamboo, which she placed on the ground, and then going to one of the girls, she helped her down and held her hand as she stepped from one piece of wood to another until she came near enough to get the beads i held out to her. i then went to inspect the inside of the cage out of which she had come, but could scarcely put my head inside of it, the atmosphere was so hot and stifling. it was clean and contained nothing but a few short lengths of bamboo for holding water. there was only room for the girl to sit or lie down in a crouched position on the bamboo platform, and when the doors are shut it must be nearly or quite dark inside. the girls are never allowed to come out except once a day to bathe in a dish or wooden bowl placed close to each cage. they say that they perspire profusely. they are placed in these stifling cages when quite young, and must remain there until they are young women, when they are taken out and have each a great marriage feast provided for them. one of them was about fourteen or fifteen years old, and the chief told us that she had been there for five years, but would soon be taken out now. the other two were about eight and ten years old, and they have to stay there for several years longer."[ ] a more recent observer has described the custom as it is observed on the western coast of new ireland. he says: "a _buck_ is the name of a little house, not larger than an ordinary hen-coop, in which a little girl is shut up, sometimes for weeks only, and at other times for months.... briefly stated, the custom is this. girls, on attaining puberty or betrothal, are enclosed in one of these little coops for a considerable time. they must remain there night and day. we saw two of these girls in two coops; the girls were not more than ten years old, still they were lying in a doubled-up position, as their little houses would not admit of them lying in any other way. these two coops were inside a large house; but the chief, in consideration of a present of a couple of tomahawks, ordered the ends to be torn out of the house to admit the light, so that we might photograph the _buck_. the occupant was allowed to put her face through an opening to be photographed, in consideration of another present."[ ] as a consequence of their long enforced idleness in the shade the girls grow fat and their dusky complexion bleaches to a more pallid hue. both their corpulence and their pallor are regarded as beauties.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty in new guinea, borneo, ceram and yap.] in kabadi, a district of british new guinea, "daughters of chiefs, when they are about twelve or thirteen years of age, are kept indoors for two or three years, never being allowed, under any pretence, to descend from the house, and the house is so shaded that the sun cannot shine on them."[ ] among the yabim and bukaua, two neighbouring and kindred tribes on the coast of german new guinea, a girl at puberty is secluded for some five or six weeks in an inner part of the house; but she may not sit on the floor, lest her uncleanness should cleave to it, so a log of wood is placed for her to squat on. moreover, she may not touch the ground with her feet; hence if she is obliged to quit the house for a short time, she is muffled up in mats and walks on two halves of a coconut shell, which are fastened like sandals to her feet by creeping plants. during her seclusion she is in charge of her aunts or other female relatives. at the end of the time she bathes, her person is loaded with ornaments, her face is grotesquely painted with red stripes on a white ground, and thus adorned she is brought forth in public to be admired by everybody. she is now marriageable.[ ] among the ot danoms of borneo girls at the age of eight or ten years are shut up in a little room or cell of the house, and cut off from all intercourse with the world for a long time. the cell, like the rest of the house, is raised on piles above the ground, and is lit by a single small window opening on a lonely place, so that the girl is in almost total darkness. she may not leave the room on any pretext whatever, not even for the most necessary purposes. none of her family may see her all the time she is shut up, but a single slave woman is appointed to wait on her. during her lonely confinement, which often lasts seven years, the girl occupies herself in weaving mats or with other handiwork. her bodily growth is stunted by the long want of exercise, and when, on attaining womanhood, she is brought out, her complexion is pale and wax-like. she is now shewn the sun, the earth, the water, the trees, and the flowers, as if she were newly born. then a great feast is made, a slave is killed, and the girl is smeared with his blood.[ ] in ceram girls at puberty were formerly shut up by themselves in a hut which was kept dark.[ ] in yap, one of the caroline islands, should a girl be overtaken by her first menstruation on the public road, she may not sit down on the earth, but must beg for a coco-nut shell to put under her. she is shut up for several days in a small hut at a distance from her parents' house, and afterwards she is bound to sleep for a hundred days in one of the special houses which are provided for the use of menstruous women.[ ] § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in the torres straits islands and northern australia_ [seclusion of girls at puberty in mabuiag, torres straits.] in the island of mabuiag, torres straits, when the signs of puberty appear on a girl, a circle of bushes is made in a dark corner of the house. here, decked with shoulder-belts, armlets, leglets just below the knees, and anklets, wearing a chaplet on her head, and shell ornaments in her ears, on her chest, and on her back, she squats in the midst of the bushes, which are piled so high round about her that only her head is visible. in this state of seclusion she must remain for three months. all this time the sun may not shine upon her, but at night she is allowed to slip out of the hut, and the bushes that hedge her in are then changed. she may not feed herself or handle food, but is fed by one or two old women, her maternal aunts, who are especially appointed to look after her. one of these women cooks food for her at a special fire in the forest. the girl is forbidden to eat turtle or turtle eggs during the season when the turtles are breeding; but no vegetable food is refused her. no man, not even her own father, may come into the house while her seclusion lasts; for if her father saw her at this time he would certainly have bad luck in his fishing, and would probably smash his canoe the very next time he went out in it. at the end of the three months she is carried down to a fresh-water creek by her attendants, hanging on to their shoulders in such a way that her feet do not touch the ground, while the women of the tribe form a ring round her, and thus escort her to the beach. arrived at the shore, she is stripped of her ornaments, and the bearers stagger with her into the creek, where they immerse her, and all the other women join in splashing water over both the girl and her bearers. when they come out of the water one of the two attendants makes a heap of grass for her charge to squat upon. the other runs to the reef, catches a small crab, tears off its claws, and hastens back with them to the creek. here in the meantime a fire has been kindled, and the claws are roasted at it. the girl is then fed by her attendants with the roasted claws. after that she is freshly decorated, and the whole party marches back to the village in a single rank, the girl walking in the centre between her two old aunts, who hold her by the wrists. the husbands of her aunts now receive her and lead her into the house of one of them, where all partake of food, and the girl is allowed once more to feed herself in the usual manner. a dance follows, in which the girl takes a prominent part, dancing between the husbands of the two aunts who had charge of her in her retirement.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty in northern australia.] among the yaraikanna tribe of cape york peninsula, in northern queensland, a girl at puberty is said to live by herself for a month or six weeks; no man may see her, though any woman may. she stays in a hut or shelter specially made for her, on the floor of which she lies supine. she may not see the sun, and towards sunset she must keep her eyes shut until the sun has gone down, otherwise it is thought that her nose will be diseased. during her seclusion she may eat nothing that lives in salt water, or a snake would kill her. an old woman waits upon her and supplies her with roots, yams, and water.[ ] some tribes are wont to bury their girls at such seasons more or less deeply in the ground, perhaps in order to hide them from the light of the sun. thus the larrakeeyah tribe in the northern territory of south australia used to cover a girl up with dirt for three days at her first monthly period.[ ] in similar circumstances the otati tribe, on the east coast of the cape york peninsula, make an excavation in the ground, where the girl squats. a bower is then built over the hole, and sand is thrown on the young woman till she is covered up to the hips. in this condition she remains for the first day, but comes out at night. so long as the period lasts, she stays in the bower during the day-time, but is not again covered with sand. afterwards her body is painted red and white from the head to the hips, and she returns to the camp, where she squats first on the right side, then on the left side, and then on the lap of her future husband, who has been previously selected for her.[ ] among the natives of the pennefather river, in the cape york peninsula, queensland, when a girl menstruates for the first time, her mother takes her away from the camp to some secluded spot, where she digs a circular hole in the sandy soil under the shade of a tree. in this hole the girl squats with crossed legs and is covered with sand from the waist downwards. a digging-stick is planted firmly in the sand on each side of her, and the place is surrounded by a fence of bushes except in front, where her mother kindles a fire. here the girl stays all day, sitting with her arms crossed and the palms of her hands resting on the sand. she may not move her arms except to take food from her mother or to scratch herself; and in scratching herself she may not touch herself with her own hands, but must use for the purpose a splinter of wood, which, when it is not in use, is stuck in her hair. she may speak to nobody but her mother; indeed nobody else would think of coming near her. at evening she lays hold of the two digging-sticks and by their help frees herself from the superincumbent weight of sand and returns to the camp. next morning she is again buried in the sand under the shade of the tree and remains there again till evening. this she does daily for five days. on her return at evening on the fifth day her mother decorates her with a waist-band, a forehead-band, and a necklet of pearl-shell, ties green parrot feathers round her arms and wrists and across her chest, and smears her body, back and front, from the waist upwards with blotches of red, white, and yellow paint. she has in like manner to be buried in the sand at her second and third menstruations, but at the fourth she is allowed to remain in camp, only signifying her condition by wearing a basket of empty shells on her back.[ ] among the kia blacks of the prosperine river, on the east coast of queensland, a girl at puberty has to sit or lie down in a shallow pit away from the camp; a rough hut of bushes is erected over her to protect her from the inclemency of the weather. there she stays for about a week, waited on by her mother and sister, the only persons to whom she may speak. she is allowed to drink water, but may not touch it with her hands; and she may scratch herself a little with a mussel-shell. this seclusion is repeated at her second and third monthly periods, but when the third is over she is brought to her husband bedecked with savage finery. eagle-hawk or cockatoo feathers are stuck in her hair: a shell hangs over her forehead: grass bugles encircle her neck and an apron of opossum skin her waist: strings are tied to her arms and wrists; and her whole body is mottled with patterns drawn in red, white, and yellow pigments and charcoal.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty in the islands of torres straits.] among the uiyumkwi tribe in red island the girl lies at full length in a shallow trench dug in the foreshore, and sand is lightly thrown over her legs and body up to the breasts, which appear not to be covered. a rough shelter of boughs is then built over her, and thus she remains lying for a few hours. then she and her attendant go into the bush and look for food, which they cook at a fire close to the shelter. they sleep under the boughs, the girl remaining secluded from the camp but apparently not being again buried. at the end of the symptoms she stands over hot stones and water is poured over her, till, trickling from her body on the stones, it is converted into steam and envelops her in a cloud of vapour. then she is painted with red and white stripes and returns to the camp. if her future husband has already been chosen, she goes to him and they eat some food together, which the girl has previously brought from the bush.[ ] in prince of wales island, torres strait, the treatment of the patient is similar, but lasts for about two months. during the day she lies covered up with sand in a shallow hole on the beach, over which a hut is built. at night she may get out of the hole, but she may not leave the hut. her paternal aunt looks after her, and both of them must abstain from eating turtle, dugong, and the heads of fish. were they to eat the heads of fish no more fish would be caught. during the time of the girl's seclusion, the aunt who waits upon her has the right to enter any house and take from it anything she likes without payment, provided she does so before the sun rises. when the time of her retirement has come to an end, the girl bathes in the sea while the morning star is rising, and after performing various other ceremonies is readmitted to society.[ ] in saibai, another island of torres straits, at her first monthly sickness a girl lives secluded in the forest for about a fortnight, during which no man may see her; even the women who have spoken to her in the forest must wash in salt water before they speak to a man. two girls wait upon and feed the damsel, putting the food into her mouth, for she is not allowed to touch it with her own hands. nor may she eat dugong and turtle. at the end of a fortnight the girl and her attendants bathe in salt water while the tide is running out. afterwards they are clean, may again speak to men without ceremony, and move freely about the village. in yam and tutu a girl at puberty retires for a month to the forest, where no man nor even her own mother may look upon her. she is waited on by women who stand to her in a certain relationship (_mowai_), apparently her paternal aunts. she is blackened all over with charcoal and wears a long petticoat reaching below her knees. during her seclusion the married women of the village often assemble in the forest and dance, and the girl's aunts relieve the tedium of the proceedings by thrashing her from time to time as a useful preparation for matrimony. at the end of a month the whole party go into the sea, and the charcoal is washed off the girl. after that she is decorated, her body blackened again, her hair reddened with ochre, and in the evening she is brought back to her father's house, where she is received with weeping and lamentation because she has been so long away.[ ] § . _seclusion of girls at puberty among the indians of north america_ [seclusion of girls at puberty among the indians of california] among the indians of california a girl at her first menstruation "was thought to be possessed of a particular degree of supernatural power, and this was not always regarded as entirely defiling or malevolent. often, however, there was a strong feeling of the power of evil inherent in her condition. not only was she secluded from her family and the community, but an attempt was made to seclude the world from her. one of the injunctions most strongly laid upon her was not to look about her. she kept her head bowed and was forbidden to see the world and the sun. some tribes covered her with a blanket. many of the customs in this connection resembled those of the north pacific coast most strongly, such as the prohibition to the girl to touch or scratch her head with her hand, a special implement being furnished her for the purpose. sometimes she could eat only when fed and in other cases fasted altogether. some form of public ceremony, often accompanied by a dance and sometimes by a form of ordeal for the girl, was practised nearly everywhere. such ceremonies were well developed in southern california, where a number of actions symbolical of the girl's maturity and subsequent life were performed."[ ] thus among the maidu indians of california a girl at puberty remained shut up in a small separate hut. for five days she might not eat flesh or fish nor feed herself, but was fed by her mother or other old woman. she had a basket, plate, and cup for her own use, and a stick with which to scratch her head, for she might not scratch it with her fingers. at the end of five days she took a warm bath and, while she still remained in the hut and plied the scratching-stick on her head, was privileged to feed herself with her own hands. after five days more she bathed in the river, after which her parents gave a great feast in her honour. at the feast the girl was dressed in her best, and anybody might ask her parents for anything he pleased, and they had to give it, even if it was the hand of their daughter in marriage. during the period of her seclusion in the hut the girl was allowed to go by night to her parents' house and listen to songs sung by her friends and relations, who assembled for the purpose. among the songs were some that related to the different roots and seeds which in these tribes it is the business of women to gather for food. while the singers sang, she sat by herself in a corner of the house muffled up completely in mats and skins; no man or boy might come near her.[ ] among the hupa, another indian tribe of california, when a girl had reached maturity her male relatives danced all night for nine successive nights, while the girl remained apart, eating no meat and blindfolded. but on the tenth night she entered the house and took part in the last dance.[ ] among the wintun, another californian tribe, a girl at puberty was banished from the camp and lived alone in a distant booth, fasting rigidly from animal food; it was death to any person to touch or even approach her.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the indians of washington state.] in the interior of washington state, about colville, "the customs of the indians, in relation to the treatment of females, are singular. on the first appearance of the menses, they are furnished with provisions, and sent into the woods, to remain concealed for two days; for they have a superstition, that if a man should be seen or met with during that time, death will be the consequence. at the end of the second day, the woman is permitted to return to the lodge, when she is placed in a hut just large enough for her to lie in at full length, in which she is compelled to remain for twenty days, cut off from all communication with her friends, and is obliged to hide her face at the appearance of a man. provisions are supplied her daily. after this, she is required to perform repeated ablutions, before she can resume her place in the family. at every return, the women go into seclusion for two or more days."[ ] among the chinook indians who inhabited the coast of washington state, from shoalwater bay as far as grey's harbour, when a chief's daughter attained to puberty, she was hidden for five days from the view of the people; she might not look at them nor at the sky, nor might she pick berries. it was believed that if she were to look at the sky, the weather would be bad; that if she picked berries, it would rain; and that when she hung her towel of cedar-bark on a spruce-tree, the tree withered up at once. she went out of the house by a separate door and bathed in a creek far from the village. she fasted for some days, and for many days more she might not eat fresh food.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the nootka indians of vancouver island.] amongst the aht or nootka indians of vancouver island, when girls reach puberty they are placed in a sort of gallery in the house "and are there surrounded completely with mats, so that neither the sun nor any fire can be seen. in this cage they remain for several days. water is given them, but no food. the longer a girl remains in this retirement the greater honour is it to the parents; but she is disgraced for life if it is known that she has seen fire or the sun during this initiatory ordeal."[ ] pictures of the mythical thunder-bird are painted on the screens behind which she hides. during her seclusion she may neither move nor lie down, but must always sit in a squatting posture. she may not touch her hair with her hands, but is allowed to scratch her head with a comb or a piece of bone provided for the purpose. to scratch her body is also forbidden, as it is believed that every scratch would leave a scar. for eight months after reaching maturity she may not eat any fresh food, particularly salmon; moreover, she must eat by herself, and use a cup and dish of her own.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the haida indians of the queen charlotte islands.] among the haida indians of the queen charlotte islands girls at puberty were secluded behind screens in the house for about twenty days. in some parts of the islands separate fires were provided for the girls, and they went out and in by a separate door at the back of the house. if a girl at such a time was obliged to go out by the front door, all the weapons, gambling-sticks, medicine, and other articles had to be removed from the house till her return, for otherwise it was thought that they would be unlucky; and if there was a good hunter in the house, he also had to go out at the same time on pain of losing his good luck if he remained. during several months or even half a year the girl was bound to wear a peculiar cloak or hood made of cedar-bark, nearly conical in shape and reaching down below the breast, but open before the face. after the twenty days were over the girl took a bath; none of the water might be spilled, it had all to be taken back to the woods, else the girl would not live long. on the west coast of the islands the damsel might eat nothing but black cod for four years; for the people believed that other kinds of fish would become scarce if she partook of them. at kloo the young woman at such times was forbidden to look at the sea, and for forty days she might not gaze at the fire; for a whole year she might not walk on the beach below high-water mark, because then the tide would come in, covering part of the food supply, and there would be bad weather. for five years she might not eat salmon, or the fish would be scarce; and when her family went to a salmon-creek, she landed from the canoe at the mouth of the creek and came to the smoke-house from behind; for were she to see a salmon leap, all the salmon might leave the creek. among the haidas of masset it was believed that if the girl looked at the sky, the weather would be bad, and that if she stepped over a salmon-creek, all the salmon would disappear.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the tlingit indians of alaska.] amongst the tlingit (thlinkeet) or kolosh indians of alaska, when a girl shewed signs of womanhood she used to be confined to a little hut or cage, which was completely blocked up with the exception of a small air-hole. in this dark and filthy abode she had to remain a year, without fire, exercise, or associates. only her mother and a female slave might supply her with nourishment. her food was put in at the little window; she had to drink out of the wing-bone of a white-headed eagle. the time of her seclusion was afterwards reduced in some places to six or three months or even less. she had to wear a sort of hat with long flaps, that her gaze might not pollute the sky; for she was thought unfit for the sun to shine upon, and it was imagined that her look would destroy the luck of a hunter, fisher, or gambler, turn things to stone, and do other mischief. at the end of her confinement her old clothes were burnt, new ones were made, and a feast was given, at which a slit was cut in her under lip parallel to the mouth, and a piece of wood or shell was inserted to keep the aperture open.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the tsetsaut and bella coola indians of british columbia.] in the tsetsaut tribe of british columbia a girl at puberty wears a large hat of skin which comes down over her face and screens it from the sun. it is believed that if she were to expose her face to the sun or to the sky, rain would fall. the hat protects her face also against the fire, which ought not to strike her skin; to shield her hands she wears mittens. in her mouth she carries the tooth of an animal to prevent her own teeth from becoming hollow. for a whole year she may not see blood unless her face is blackened; otherwise she would grow blind. for two years she wears the hat and lives in a hut by herself, although she is allowed to see other people. at the end of two years a man takes the hat from her head and throws it away.[ ] in the bilqula or bella coola tribe of british columbia, when a girl attains puberty she must stay in the shed which serves as her bedroom, where she has a separate fireplace. she is not allowed to descend to the main part of the house, and may not sit by the fire of the family. for four days she is bound to remain motionless in a sitting posture. she fasts during the day, but is allowed a little food and drink very early in the morning. after the four days' seclusion she may leave her room, but only through a separate opening cut in the floor, for the houses are raised on piles. she may not yet come into the chief room. in leaving the house she wears a large hat which protects her face against the rays of the sun. it is believed that if the sun were to shine on her face her eyes would suffer. she may pick berries on the hills, but may not come near the river or sea for a whole year. were she to eat fresh salmon she would lose her senses, or her mouth would be changed into a long beak.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the tinneh indians of british columbia.] among the tinneh indians about stuart lake, babine lake, and fraser lake in british columbia "girls verging on maturity, that is when their breasts begin to form, take swans' feathers mixed with human hair and plait bands, which they tie round their wrists and ankles to secure long life. at this time they are careful that the dishes out of which they eat, are used by no other person, and wholly devoted to their own use; during this period they eat nothing but dog fish, and starvation _only_ will drive them to eat either fresh fish or meat. when their first periodical sickness comes on, they are fed by their mothers or nearest female relation by _themselves_, and on no account will they touch their food with their own hands. they are at this time also careful not to touch their heads with their hands, and keep a small stick to scratch their heads with. they remain outside the lodge, all the time they are in this state, in a hut made for the purpose. during all this period they wear a skull-cap made of skin to fit very tight; this is never taken off until their first monthly sickness ceases; they also wear a strip of black paint about one inch wide across their eyes, and wear a fringe of shells, bones, etc., hanging down from their foreheads to below their eyes; and this is never taken off till the second monthly period arrives and ceases, when the nearest male relative makes a feast; after which she is considered a fully matured woman; but she has to refrain from eating anything fresh for one year after her first monthly sickness; she may however eat partridge, but it must be cooked in the crop of the bird to render it harmless. i would have thought it impossible to perform this feat had i not seen it done. the crop is blown out, and a small bent willow put round the mouth; it is then filled with water, and the meat being first minced up, put in also, then put on the fire and boiled till cooked. their reason for hanging fringes before their eyes, is to hinder any bad medicine man from harming them during this critical period: they are very careful not to drink whilst facing a medicine man, and do so only when their backs are turned to him. all these habits are left off when the girl is a recognised woman, with the exception of their going out of the lodge and remaining in a hut, every time their periodical sickness comes on. this is a rigidly observed law with both single and married women."[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the tinneh indians of alaska.] among the hareskin tinneh a girl at puberty was secluded for five days in a hut made specially for the purpose; she might only drink out of a tube made from a swan's bone, and for a month she might not break a hare's bones, nor taste blood, nor eat the heart or fat of animals, nor birds' eggs.[ ] among the tinneh indians of the middle yukon valley, in alaska, the period of the girl's seclusion lasts exactly a lunar month; for the day of the moon on which the symptoms first occur is noted, and she is sequestered until the same day of the next moon. if the season is winter, a corner of the house is curtained off for her use by a blanket or a sheet of canvas; if it is summer, a small tent is erected for her near the common one. here she lives and sleeps. she wears a long robe and a large hood, which she must pull down over her eyes whenever she leaves the hut, and she must keep it down till she returns. she may not speak to a man nor see his face, much less touch his clothes or anything that belongs to him; for if she did so, though no harm would come to her, he would grow unmanly. she has her own dishes for eating out of and may use no other; at kaltag she must suck the water through a swan's bone without applying her lips to the cup. she may eat no fresh meat or fish except the flesh of the porcupine. she may not undress, but sleeps with all her clothes on, even her mittens. in her socks she wears, next to the skin, the horny soles cut from the feet of a porcupine, in order that for the rest of her life her shoes may never wear out. round her waist she wears a cord to which are tied the heads of femurs of a porcupine; because of all animals known to the tinneh the porcupine suffers least in parturition, it simply drops its young and continues to walk or skip about as if nothing had happened. hence it is easy to see that a girl who wears these portions of a porcupine about her waist, will be delivered just as easily as the animal. to make quite sure of this, if anybody happens to kill a porcupine big with young while the girl is undergoing her period of separation, the foetus is given to her, and she lets it slide down between her shirt and her body so as to fall on the ground like an infant.[ ] here the imitation of childbirth is a piece of homoeopathic or imitative magic designed to facilitate the effect which it simulates.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the thompson indians of british columbia.] among the thompson indians of british columbia, when a girl attained puberty, she was at once separated from all the people. a conical hut of fir branches and bark was erected at some little distance from the other houses, and in it the girl had to squat on her heels during the day. often a deep circular hole was dug in the hut and the girl squatted in the hole, with her head projecting above the surface of the ground. she might quit the hut for various purposes in the early morning, but had always to be back at sunrise. on the first appearance of the symptoms her face was painted red all over, and the paint was renewed every morning during her term of seclusion. a heavy blanket swathed her body from top to toe, and during the first four days she wore a conical cap made of small fir branches, which reached below the breast but left an opening for the face. in her hair was fastened an implement made of deer-bone with which she scratched herself. for the first four days she might neither wash nor eat, but a little water was given her in a birch-bark cup painted red, and she sucked up the liquid through a tube made out of the leg of a crane, a swan, or a goose, for her lips might not touch the surface of the water. after the four days she was allowed, during the rest of the period of isolation, to eat, to wash, to lie down, to comb her hair, and to drink of streams and springs. but in drinking at these sources she had still to use her tube, otherwise the spring would dry up. while her seclusion lasted she performed by night various ceremonies, which were supposed to exert a beneficial influence on her future life. for example, she ran as fast as she could, praying at the same time to the earth or nature that she might be fleet of foot and tireless of limb. she dug trenches, in order that in after life she might be able to dig well and to work hard. these and other ceremonies she repeated for four nights or mornings in succession, four times each morning, and each time she supplicated the dawn of the day. among the lower thompson indians she carried a staff for one night; and when the day was breaking she leaned the staff against the stump of a tree and prayed to the dawn that she might be blessed with a good husband, who was symbolized by the staff. she also wandered some nights to lonely parts of the mountains, where she would dance, imploring the spirits to pity and protect her during her future life; then, the dance and prayer over, she would lie down on the spot and fall asleep. again, she carried four stones in her bosom to a spring, where she spat upon the stones and threw them one after the other into the water, praying that all disease might leave her, as these stones did. also she ran four times in the early morning with two small stones in her bosom; and as she ran the stones slipped down between her bare body and her clothes and fell to the ground. at the same time she prayed to the dawn that when she should be with child, she might be delivered as easily as she was delivered of these stones. but whatever exercises she performed or prayers she offered on the lonely mountains during the hours of darkness or while the morning light was growing in the east, she must always be back in her little hut before the sun rose. there she often passed the tedious hours away picking the needles, one by one, from the cones on two large branches of fir, which hung from the roof of her hut on purpose to provide her with occupation. and as she picked she prayed to the fir-branch that she might never be lazy, but always quick and active at work. during her seclusion, too, she had to make miniatures of all the articles that indian women make, or used to make, such as baskets, mats, ropes, and thread. this she did in order that afterwards she might be able to make the real things properly. four large fir-branches also were placed in front of the hut, so that when she went out or in, she had to step over them. the branches were renewed every morning and the old ones thrown away into the water, while the girl prayed, "may i never bewitch any man, nor my fellow-women! may it never happen!" the first four times that she went out and in, she prayed to the fir-branches, saying, "if ever i step into trouble or difficulties or step unknowingly inside the magical spell of some person, may you help me, o fir-branches, with your power!" every day she painted her face afresh, and she wore strings of parts of deer-hoofs round her ankles and knees, and tied to her waistband on either side, which rattled when she walked or ran. even the shape of the hut in which she lived was adapted to her future rather than to her present needs and wishes. if she wished to be tall, the hut was tall; if she wished to be short, it was low, sometimes so low that there was not room in it for her to stand erect, and she would lay the palm of her hand on the top of her head and pray to the dawn that she might grow no taller. her seclusion lasted four months. the indians say that long ago it extended over a year, and that fourteen days elapsed before the girl was permitted to wash for the first time. the dress which she wore during her time of separation was afterwards taken to the top of a hill and burned, and the rest of her clothes were hung up on trees.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the lillooet indians of british columbia.] among the lillooet indians of british columbia, neighbours of the thompsons, the customs observed by girls at puberty were similar. the damsels were secluded for a period of not less than one year nor more than four years, according to their own inclination and the wishes of their parents. among the upper lillooets the hut in which the girl lodged was made of bushy fir-trees set up like a conical tent, the inner branches being lopped off, while the outer branches were closely interwoven and padded to form a roof. every month or half-month the hut was shifted to another site or a new one erected. by day the girl sat in the hut; for the first month she squatted in a hole dug in the middle of it; and she passed the time making miniature baskets of birch-bark and other things, praying that she might be able to make the real things well in after years. at the dusk of the evening she left the hut and wandered about all night, but she returned before the sun rose. before she quitted the hut at nightfall to roam abroad, she painted her face red and put on a mask of fir-branches, and in her hand, as she walked, she carried a basket-rattle to frighten ghosts and guard herself from evil. among the lower lillooets, the girl's mask was often made of goat-skin, covering her head, neck, shoulders and breast, and leaving only a narrow opening from the brow to the chin. during the nocturnal hours she performed many ceremonies. thus she put two smooth stones in her bosom and ran, and as they fell down between her body and her clothes, she prayed, saying, "may i always have easy child-births!" now one of these stones represented her future child and the other represented the afterbirth. also she dug trenches, praying that in the years to come she might be strong and tireless in digging roots; she picked leaves and needles from the fir-trees, praying that her fingers might be nimble in picking berries; and she tore sheets of birch-bark into shreds, dropping the shreds as she walked and asking that her hands might never tire and that she might make neat and fine work of birch-bark. moreover, she ran and walked much that she might be light of foot. and every evening, when the shadows were falling, and every morning, when the day was breaking, she prayed to the dusk of the evening or to the dawn of day, saying, "o dawn of day!" or "o dusk," as it might be, "may i be able to dig roots fast and easily, and may i always find plenty!" all her prayers were addressed to the dusk of the evening or the dawn of day. she supplicated both, asking for long life, health, wealth, and happiness.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the shuswap indians of british columbia.] among the shuswap indians of british columbia, who are neighbours of the thompsons and lillooets, "a girl on reaching maturity has to go through a great number of ceremonies. she must leave the village and live alone in a small hut on the mountains. she cooks her own food, and must not eat anything that bleeds. she is forbidden to touch her head, for which purpose she uses a comb with three points. neither is she allowed to scratch her body, except with a painted deer-bone. she wears the bone and the comb suspended from her belt. she drinks out of a painted cup of birch-bark, and neither more nor less than the quantity it holds. every night she walks about her hut, and plants willow twigs, which she has painted, and to the ends of which she has attached pieces of cloth, into the ground. it is believed that thus she will become rich in later life. in order to become strong she should climb trees and try to break off their points. she plays with _lehal_ sticks that her future husbands might have good luck when gambling."[ ] during the day the girl stays in her hut and occupies herself in making miniature bags, mats, and baskets, in sewing and embroidery, in manufacturing thread, twine, and so forth; in short she makes a beginning of all kinds of woman's work, in order that she may be a good housewife in after life. by night she roams the mountains and practises running, climbing, carrying burdens, and digging trenches, so that she may be expert at digging roots. if she has wandered far and daylight overtakes her, she hides herself behind a veil of fir branches; for no one, except her instructor or nearest relatives, should see her face during her period of seclusion. she wore a large robe painted red on the breast and sides, and her hair was done up in a knot at each ear.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the delaware and cheyenne indians.] ceremonies of the same general type were probably observed by girls at puberty among all the indian tribes of north america. but the record of them is far less full for the central and eastern tribes, perhaps because the settlers who first came into contact with the red man in these regions were too busy fighting him to find leisure, even if they had the desire, to study his manners and customs. however, among the delaware indians, a tribe in the extreme east of the continent, we read that "when a delaware girl has her first monthly period, she must withdraw into a hut at some distance from the village. her head is wrapped up for twelve days, so that she can see nobody, and she must submit to frequent vomits and fasting, and abstain from all labor. after this she is washed and new clothed, but confined to a solitary life for two months, at the close of which she is declared marriageable."[ ] again, among the cheyennes, an indian tribe of the missouri valley, a girl at her first menstruation is painted red all over her body and secluded in a special little lodge for four days. however, she may remain in her father's lodge provided that there are no charms ("medicine"), no sacred bundle, and no shield in it, or that these and all other objects invested with a sacred character have been removed. for four days she may not eat boiled meat; the flesh of which she partakes must be roasted over coals. young men will not eat from the dish nor drink from the pot, which has been used by her; because they believe that were they to do so they would be wounded in the next fight. she may not handle nor even touch any weapon of war or any sacred object. if the camp moves, she may not ride a horse, but is mounted on a mare.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the esquimaux.] among the esquimaux also, in the extreme north of the continent, who belong to an entirely different race from the indians, the attainment of puberty in the female sex is, or used to be, the occasion of similar observances. thus among the koniags, an esquimau people of alaska, a girl at puberty was placed in a small hut in which she had to remain on her hands and knees for six months; then the hut was enlarged a little so as to allow her to straighten her back, but in this posture she had to remain for six months more. all this time she was regarded as an unclean being with whom no one might hold intercourse. at the end of the year she was received back by her parents and a great feast held.[ ] again, among the malemut, and southward from the lower yukon and adjacent districts, when a girl reaches the age of puberty she is considered unclean for forty days and must therefore live by herself in a corner of the house with her face to the wall, always keeping her hood over her head and her hair hanging dishevelled over her eyes. but if it is summer, she commonly lives in a rough shelter outside the house. she may not go out by day, and only once at night, when every one else is asleep. at the end of the period she bathes and is clothed in new garments, whereupon she may be taken in marriage. during her seclusion she is supposed to be enveloped in a peculiar atmosphere of such a sort that were a young man to come near enough for it to touch him, it would render him visible to every animal he might hunt, so that his luck as a hunter would be gone.[ ] § . _seclusion of girls at puberty among the indians of south america_ [seclusion of girls at puberty among the guaranis, chiriguanos, and lengua indians of south america.] when symptoms of puberty appeared on a girl for the first time, the guaranis of southern brazil, on the borders of paraguay, used to sew her up in her hammock, leaving only a small opening in it to allow her to breathe. in this condition, wrapt up and shrouded like a corpse, she was kept for two or three days or so long as the symptoms lasted, and during this time she had to observe a most rigorous fast. after that she was entrusted to a matron, who cut the girl's hair and enjoined her to abstain most strictly from eating flesh of any kind until her hair should be grown long enough to hide her ears. meanwhile the diviners drew omens of her future character from the various birds or animals that flew past or crossed her path. if they saw a parrot, they would say she was a chatterbox; if an owl, she was lazy and useless for domestic labours, and so on.[ ] in similar circumstances the chiriguanos of southeastern bolivia hoisted the girl in her hammock to the roof, where she stayed for a month: the second month the hammock was let half-way down from the roof; and in the third month old women, armed with sticks, entered the hut and ran about striking everything they met, saying they were hunting the snake that had wounded the girl.[ ] the lengua indians of the paraguayan chaco under similar circumstances hang the girl in her hammock from the roof of the house, but they leave her there only three days and nights, during which they give her nothing to eat but a little paraguay tea or boiled maize. only her mother or grandmother has access to her; nobody else approaches or speaks to her. if she is obliged to leave the hammock for a little, her friends take great care to prevent her from touching the _boyrusu_, which is an imaginary serpent that would swallow her up. she must also be very careful not to set foot on the droppings of fowls or animals, else she would suffer from sores on the throat and breast. on the third day they let her down from the hammock, cut her hair, and make her sit in a corner of the room with her face turned to the wall. she may speak to nobody, and must abstain from flesh and fish. these rigorous observances she must practise for nearly a year. many girls die or are injured for life in consequence of the hardships they endure at this time. their only occupations during their seclusion are spinning and weaving.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the yuracares of bolivia.] among the yuracares, an indian tribe of bolivia, at the eastern foot of the andes, when a girl perceives the signs of puberty, she informs her parents. the mother weeps and the father constructs a little hut of palm leaves near the house. in this cabin he shuts up his daughter so that she cannot see the light, and there she remains fasting rigorously for four days. meantime the mother, assisted by the women of the neighbourhood, has brewed a large quantity of the native intoxicant called _chicha_, and poured it into wooden troughs and palm leaves. on the morning of the fourth day, three hours before the dawn, the girl's father, having arrayed himself in his savage finery, summons all his neighbours with loud cries. the damsel is seated on a stone, and every guest in turn cuts off a lock of her hair, and running away hides it in the hollow trunk of a tree in the depths of the forest. when they have all done so and seated themselves again gravely in the circle, the girl offers to each of them a calabash full of very strong _chicha_. before the wassailing begins, the various fathers perform a curious operation on the arms of their sons, who are seated beside them. the operator takes a very sharp bone of an ape, rubs it with a pungent spice, and then pinching up the skin of his son's arm he pierces it with the bone through and through, as a surgeon might introduce a seton. this operation he repeats till the young man's arm is riddled with holes at regular intervals from the shoulder to the wrist. almost all who take part in the festival are covered with these wounds, which the indians call _culucute_. having thus prepared themselves to spend a happy day, they drink, play on flutes, sing and dance till evening. rain, thunder, and lightning, should they befall, have no effect in damping the general enjoyment or preventing its continuance till after the sun has set. the motive for perforating the arms of the young men is to make them skilful hunters; at each perforation the sufferer is cheered by the promise of another sort of game or fish which the surgical operation will infallibly procure for him. the same operation is performed on the arms and legs of the girls, in order that they may be brave and strong; even the dogs are operated on with the intention of making them run down the game better. for five or six months afterwards the damsel must cover her head with bark and refrain from speaking to men. the yuracares think that if they did not submit a young girl to this severe ordeal, her children would afterwards perish by accidents of various kinds, such as the sting of a serpent, the bite of a jaguar, the fall of a tree, the wound of an arrow, or what not.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the indians of the gran chaco.] among the matacos or mataguayos, an indian tribe of the gran chaco, a girl at puberty has to remain in seclusion for some time. she lies covered up with branches or other things in a corner of the hut, seeing no one and speaking to no one, and during this time she may eat neither flesh nor fish. meantime a man beats a drum in front of the house.[ ] similarly among the tobas, another indian tribe of the same region, when a chief's daughter has just attained to womanhood, she is shut up for two or three days in the house, all the men of the tribe scour the country to bring in game and fish for a feast, and a mataco indian is engaged to drum, sing, and dance in front of the house without cessation, day and night, till the festival is over. as the merrymaking lasts for two or three weeks, the exhaustion of the musician at the end of it may be readily conceived. meat and drink are supplied to him on the spot where he pays his laborious court to the muses. the proceedings wind up with a saturnalia and a drunken debauch.[ ] among the yaguas, an indian tribe of the upper amazon, a girl at puberty is shut up for three months in a lonely hut in the forest, where her mother brings her food daily.[ ] when a girl of the peguenches tribe perceives in herself the first signs of womanhood, she is secluded by her mother in a corner of the hut screened off with blankets, and is warned not to lift up her eyes on any man. next day, very early in the morning and again after sunset, she is taken out by two women and made to run till she is tired; in the interval she is again secluded in her corner. on the following day she lays three packets of wool beside the path near the house to signify that she is now a woman.[ ] among the passes, mauhes, and other tribes of brazil the young woman in similar circumstances is hung in her hammock from the roof and has to fast there for a month or as long as she can hold out.[ ] one of the early settlers in brazil, about the middle of the sixteenth century, has described the severe ordeal which damsels at puberty had to undergo among the indians on the south-east coast of that country, near what is now rio de janeiro. when a girl had reached this critical period of life, her hair was burned or shaved off close to the head. then she was placed on a flat stone and cut with the tooth of an animal from the shoulders all down the back, till she ran with blood. next the ashes of a wild gourd were rubbed into the wounds; the girl was bound hand and foot, and hung in a hammock, being enveloped in it so closely that no one could see her. here she had to stay for three days without eating or drinking. when the three days were over, she stepped out of the hammock upon the flat stone, for her feet might not touch the ground. if she had a call of nature, a female relation took the girl on her back and carried her out, taking with her a live coal to prevent evil influences from entering the girl's body. being replaced in her hammock, she was now allowed to get some flour, boiled roots, and water, but might not taste salt or flesh. thus she continued to the end of the first monthly period, at the expiry of which she was gashed on the breast and belly as well as all down the back. during the second month she still stayed in her hammock, but her rule of abstinence was less rigid, and she was allowed to spin. the third month she was blackened with a certain pigment and began to go about as usual.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty among the indians of guiana; custom of beating the girls and of causing them to be stung by ants.] amongst the macusis of british guiana, when a girl shews the first signs of puberty, she is hung in a hammock at the highest point of the hut. for the first few days she may not leave the hammock by day, but at night she must come down, light a fire, and spend the night beside it, else she would break out in sores on her neck, throat, and other parts of her body. so long as the symptoms are at their height, she must fast rigorously. when they have abated, she may come down and take up her abode in a little compartment that is made for her in the darkest corner of the hut. in the morning she may cook her food, but it must be at a separate fire and in a vessel of her own. after about ten days the magician comes and undoes the spell by muttering charms and breathing on her and on the more valuable of the things with which she has come in contact. the pots and drinking-vessels which she used are broken and the fragments buried. after her first bath, the girl must submit to be beaten by her mother with thin rods without uttering a cry. at the end of the second period she is again beaten, but not afterwards. she is now "clean," and can mix again with people.[ ] other indians of guiana, after keeping the girl in her hammock at the top of the hut for a month, expose her to certain large ants, whose bite is very painful.[ ] sometimes, in addition to being stung with ants, the sufferer has to fast day and night so long as she remains slung up on high in her hammock, so that when she comes down she is reduced to a skeleton. the intention of stinging her with ants is said to be to make her strong to bear the burden of maternity.[ ] amongst the uaupes of brazil a girl at puberty is secluded in the house for a month, and allowed only a small quantity of bread and water. then she is taken out into the midst of her relations and friends, each of whom gives her four or five blows with pieces of _sipo_ (an elastic climber), till she falls senseless or dead. if she recovers, the operation is repeated four times at intervals of six hours, and it is considered an offence to the parents not to strike hard. meantime, pots of meats and fish have been made ready; the _sipos_ are dipped into them and then given to the girl to lick, who is now considered a marriageable woman.[ ] [custom in south america of causing young men to be stung with ants as an initiatory rite.] the custom of stinging the girl at such times with ants or beating her with rods is intended, we may be sure, not as a punishment or a test of endurance, but as a purification, the object being to drive away the malignant influences with which a girl in this condition is believed to be beset and enveloped. examples of purification, by beating, by incisions in the flesh, and by stinging with ants, have already come before us.[ ] in some indian tribes of brazil and guiana young men do not rank as warriors and may not marry till they have passed through a terrible ordeal, which consists in being stung by swarms of venomous ants whose bite is like fire. thus among the mauhes on the tapajos river, a southern tributary of the amazon, boys of eight to ten years are obliged to thrust their arms into sleeves stuffed with great ferocious ants, which the indians call _tocandeira_ (_cryptocerus atratus_, f.). when the young victim shrieks with pain, an excited mob of men dances round him, shouting and encouraging him till he falls exhausted to the ground. he is then committed to the care of old women, who treat his fearfully swollen arms with fresh juice of the manioc; and on his recovery he has to shew his strength and skill in bending a bow. this cruel ordeal is commonly repeated again and again, till the lad has reached his fourteenth year and can bear the agony without betraying any sign of emotion. then he is a man and can marry. a lad's age is reckoned by the number of times he has passed through the ordeal.[ ] an eye-witness has described how a young mauhe hero bore the torture with an endurance more than spartan, dancing and singing, with his arms cased in the terrible mittens, before every cabin of the great common house, till pallid, staggering, and with chattering teeth he triumphantly laid the gloves before the old chief and received the congratulations of the men and the caresses of the women; then breaking away from his friends and admirers he threw himself into the river and remained in its cool soothing water till nightfall.[ ] similarly among the ticunas of the upper amazon, on the border of peru, the young man who would take his place among the warriors must plunge his arm into a sort of basket full of venomous ants and keep it there for several minutes without uttering a cry. he generally falls backwards and sometimes succumbs to the fever which ensues; hence as soon as the ordeal is over the women are prodigal of their attentions to him, and rub the swollen arm with a particular kind of herb.[ ] ordeals of this sort appear to be in vogue among the indians of the rio negro as well as of the amazon.[ ] among the rucuyennes, a tribe of indians in the north of brazil, on the borders of guiana, young men who are candidates for marriage must submit to be stung all over their persons not only with ants but with wasps, which are applied to their naked bodies in curious instruments of trellis-work shaped like fantastic quadrupeds or birds. the patient invariably falls down in a swoon and is carried like dead to his hammock, where he is tightly lashed with cords. as they come to themselves, they writhe in agony, so that their hammocks rock violently to and fro, causing the hut to shake as if it were about to collapse. this dreadful ordeal is called by the indians a _maraké_.[ ] [custom of causing men and women to be stung with ants to improve their character and health or to render them invulnerable.] the same ordeal, under the same name, is also practised by the wayanas, an indian tribe of french guiana, but with them, we are told, it is no longer deemed an indispensable preliminary to marriage; "it is rather a sort of national medicine administered chiefly to the youth of both sexes." applied to men, the _maraké_, as it is called, "sharpens them, prevents them from being heavy and lazy, makes them active, brisk, industrious, imparts strength, and helps them to shoot well with the bow; without it the indians would always be slack and rather sickly, would always have a little fever, and would lie perpetually in their hammocks. as for the women, the _maraké_ keeps them from going to sleep, renders them active, alert, brisk, gives them strength and a liking for work, makes them good housekeepers, good workers at the stockade, good makers of _cachiri_. every one undergoes the _maraké_ at least twice in his life, sometimes thrice, and oftener if he likes. it may be had from the age of about eight years and upward, and no one thinks it odd that a man of forty should voluntarily submit to it."[ ] similarly the indians of st. juan capistrano in california used to be branded on some part of their bodies, generally on the right arm, but sometimes on the leg also, not as a proof of manly fortitude, but because they believed that the custom "added greater strength to the nerves, and gave a better pulse for the management of the bow." afterwards "they were whipped with nettles, and covered with ants, that they might become robust, and the infliction was always performed in summer, during the months of july and august, when the nettle was in its most fiery state. they gathered small bunches, which they fastened together, and the poor deluded indian was chastised, by inflicting blows with them upon his naked limbs, until unable to walk; and then he was carried to the nest of the nearest and most furious species of ants, and laid down among them, while some of his friends, with sticks, kept annoying the insects to make them still more violent. what torments did they not undergo! what pain! what hellish inflictions! yet their faith gave them power to endure all without a murmur, and they remained as if dead. having undergone these dreadful ordeals, they were considered as invulnerable, and believed that the arrows of their enemies could no longer harm them."[ ] among the alur, a tribe inhabiting the south-western region of the upper nile, to bury a man in an ant-hill and leave him there for a while is the regular treatment for insanity.[ ] [in such cases the beating or stinging was originally a purification; at a later time it is interpreted as a test of courage and endurance.] in like manner it is probable that beating or scourging as a religious or ceremonial rite was originally a mode of purification. it was meant to wipe off and drive away a dangerous contagion, whether personified as demoniacal or not, which was supposed to be adhering physically, though invisibly, to the body of the sufferer.[ ] the pain inflicted on the person beaten was no more the object of the beating than it is of a surgical operation with us; it was a necessary accident, that was all. in later times such customs were interpreted otherwise, and the pain, from being an accident, became the prime object of the ceremony, which was now regarded either as a test of endurance imposed upon persons at critical epochs of life, or as a mortification of the flesh well pleasing to the god. but asceticism, under any shape or form, is never primitive. the savage, it is true, in certain circumstances will voluntarily subject himself to pains and privations which appear to us wholly needless; but he never acts thus unless he believes that some solid temporal advantage is to be gained by so doing. pain for the sake of pain, whether as a moral discipline in this life or as a means of winning a glorious immortality hereafter, is not an object which he sets himself deliberately to pursue. [this explanation confirmed with reference to the beating of girls at puberty among the south american indians; treatment of a girl at puberty among the banivas of the orinoco; symptoms of puberty in a girl regarded as wounds inflicted by a demon.] if this view is correct, we can understand why so many indian tribes of south america compel the youth of both sexes to submit to these painful and sometimes fatal ordeals. they imagine that in this way they rid the young folk of certain evils inherent in youth, especially at the critical age of puberty; and when they picture to themselves the evils in a personal form as dangerous spirits or demons, the ceremony of their expulsion may in the strict sense be termed an exorcism. this certainly appears to be the interpretation which the banivas of the orinoco put upon the cruel scourgings which they inflict on girls at puberty. at her first menstruation a baniva girl must pass several days and nights in her hammock, almost motionless and getting nothing to eat and drink but water and a little manioc. while she lies there, the suitors for her hand apply to her father, and he who can afford to give most for her or can prove himself the best man, is promised the damsel in marriage. the fast over, some old men enter the hut, bandage the girl's eyes, cover her head with a bonnet of which the fringes fall on her shoulders, and then lead her forth and tie her to a post set up in an open place. the head of the post is carved in the shape of a grotesque face. none but the old men may witness what follows. were a woman caught peeping and prying, it would go ill with her; she would be marked out for the vengeance of the demon, who would make her expiate her crime at the very next moon by madness or death. every participant in the ceremony comes armed with a scourge of cords or of fish skins; some of them reinforce the virtue of the instrument by tying little sharp stones to the end of the thongs. then, to the dismal and deafening notes of shell-trumpets blown by two or three supernumeraries, the men circle round and round the post, every one applying his scourge as he passes to the girl's back, till it streams with blood. at last the musicians, winding tremendous blasts on their trumpets against the demon, advance and touch the post in which he is supposed to be incorporate. then the blows cease to descend; the girl is untied, often in a fainting state, and carried away to have her wounds washed and simples applied to them. the youngest of the executioners, or rather of the exorcists, hastens to inform her betrothed husband of the happy issue of the exorcism. "the spirit," he says, "had cast thy beloved into a sleep as deep almost as that of death. but we have rescued her from his attacks, and laid her down in such and such a place. go seek her." then going from house to house through the village he cries to the inmates, "come, let us burn the demon who would have taken possession of such and such a girl, our friend." the bridegroom at once carries his wounded and suffering bride to his own house; and all the people gather round the post for the pleasure of burning it and the demon together. a great pile of firewood has meanwhile been heaped up about it, and the women run round the pyre cursing in shrill voices the wicked spirit who has wrought all this evil. the men join in with hoarser cries and animate themselves for the business in hand by deep draughts of an intoxicant which has been provided for the occasion by the parents-in-law. soon the bridegroom, having committed the bride to the care of his mother, appears on the scene brandishing a lighted torch. he addresses the demon with bitter mockery and reproaches; informs him that the fair creature on whom he, the demon, had nefarious designs, is now his, the bridegroom's, blooming spouse; and shaking his torch at the grinning head on the post, he screams out, "this is how the victims of thy persecution take vengeance on thee!" with these words he puts a light to the pyre. at once the drums strike up, the trumpets blare, and men, women, and children begin to dance. in two long rows they dance, the men on one side, the women on the other, advancing till they almost touch and then retiring again. after that the two rows join hands, and forming a huge circle trip it round and round the blaze, till the post with its grotesque face is consumed in the flames and nothing of the pyre remains but a heap of red and glowing embers. "the evil spirit has been destroyed. thus delivered from her persecutor, the young wife will be free from sickness, will not die in childbed, and will bear many children to her husband."[ ] from this account it appears that the banivas attribute the symptoms of puberty in girls to the wounds inflicted on them by an amorous devil, who, however, can be not only exorcised but burnt to ashes at the stake. § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in india and cambodia_ [seclusion of girls at puberty among the hindoos; seclusion of girls at puberty in southern india.] when a hindoo maiden reaches maturity she is kept in a dark room for four days, and is forbidden to see the sun. she is regarded as unclean; no one may touch her. her diet is restricted to boiled rice, milk, sugar, curd, and tamarind without salt. on the morning of the fifth day she goes to a neighbouring tank, accompanied by five women whose husbands are alive. smeared with turmeric water, they all bathe and return home, throwing away the mat and other things that were in the room.[ ] the rarhi brahmans of bengal compel a girl at puberty to live alone, and do not allow her to see the face of any male. for three days she remains shut up in a dark room, and has to undergo certain penances. fish, flesh, and sweetmeats are forbidden her; she must live upon rice and ghee.[ ] among the tiyans of malabar a girl is thought to be polluted for four days from the beginning of her first menstruation. during this time she must keep to the north side of the house, where she sleeps on a grass mat of a particular kind, in a room festooned with garlands of young coco-nut leaves. another girl keeps her company and sleeps with her, but she may not touch any other person, tree or plant. further, she may not see the sky, and woe betide her if she catches sight of a crow or a cat! her diet must be strictly vegetarian, without salt, tamarinds, or chillies. she is armed against evil spirits by a knife, which is placed on the mat or carried on her person.[ ] among the kappiliyans of madura and tinnevelly a girl at her first monthly period remains under pollution for thirteen days, either in a corner of the house, which is screened off for her use by her maternal uncle, or in a temporary hut, which is erected by the same relative on the common land of the village. on the thirteenth day she bathes in a tank, and, on entering the house, steps over a pestle and a cake. near the entrance some food is placed and a dog is allowed to partake of it; but his enjoyment is marred by suffering, for while he eats he receives a sound thrashing, and the louder he howls the better, for the larger will be the family to which the young woman will give birth; should there be no howls, there will be no children. the temporary hut in which the girl passed the days of her seclusion is burnt down, and the pots which she used are smashed to shivers.[ ] similarly among the parivarams of madura, when a girl attains to puberty she is kept for sixteen days in a hut, which is guarded at night by her relations; and when her sequestration is over the hut is burnt down and the pots she used are broken into very small pieces, because they think that if rain-water gathered in any of them, the girl would be childless.[ ] the pulayars of travancore build a special hut in the jungle for the use of a girl at puberty; there she remains for seven days. no one else may enter the hut, not even her mother. women stand a little way off and lay down food for her. at the end of the time she is brought home, clad in a new or clean cloth, and friends are treated to betel-nut, toddy, and arack.[ ] among the singhalese a girl at her first menstruation is confined to a room, where she may neither see nor be seen by any male. after being thus secluded for two weeks she is taken out, with her face covered, and is bathed by women at the back of the house. near the bathing-place are kept branches of any milk-bearing tree, usually of the _jak_-tree. in some cases, while the time of purification or uncleanness lasts, the maiden stays in a separate hut, which is afterwards burnt down.[ ] [seclusion of girls at puberty in cambodia.] in cambodia a girl at puberty is put to bed under a mosquito curtain, where she should stay a hundred days. usually, however, four, five, ten, or twenty days are thought enough; and even this, in a hot climate and under the close meshes of the curtain, is sufficiently trying.[ ] according to another account, a cambodian maiden at puberty is said to "enter into the shade." during her retirement, which, according to the rank and position of her family, may last any time from a few days to several years, she has to observe a number of rules, such as not to be seen by a strange man, not to eat flesh or fish, and so on. she goes nowhere, not even to the pagoda. but this state of seclusion is discontinued during eclipses; at such times she goes forth and pays her devotions to the monster who is supposed to cause eclipses by catching the heavenly bodies between his teeth.[ ] this permission to break her rule of retirement and appear abroad during an eclipse seems to shew how literally the injunction is interpreted which forbids maidens entering on womanhood to look upon the sun. § . _seclusion of girls at puberty in folk-tales_ [traces of the seclusion of girls at puberty in folk-tales. danish story of the girl who might not see the sun.] a superstition so widely diffused as this might be expected to leave traces in legends and folk-tales. and it has done so. in a danish story we read of a princess who was fated to be carried off by a warlock if ever the sun shone on her before she had passed her thirtieth year; so the king her father kept her shut up in the palace, and had all the windows on the east, south, and west sides blocked up, lest a sunbeam should fall on his darling child, and he should thus lose her for ever. only at evening, when the sun was down, might she walk for a little in the beautiful garden of the castle. in time a prince came a-wooing, followed by a train of gorgeous knights and squires on horses all ablaze with gold and silver. the king said the prince might have his daughter to wife on condition that he would not carry her away to his home till she was thirty years old but would live with her in the castle, where the windows looked out only to the north. the prince agreed, so married they were. the bride was only fifteen, and fifteen more long weary years must pass before she might step out of the gloomy donjon, breathe the fresh air, and see the sun. but she and her gallant young bridegroom loved each other and they were happy. often they sat hand in hand at the window looking out to the north and talked of what they would do when they were free. still it was a little dull to look out always at the same window and to see nothing but the castle woods, and the distant hills, and the clouds drifting silently over them. well, one day it happened that all the people in the castle had gone away to a neighbouring castle to witness a tournament and other gaieties, and the two young folks were left as usual all alone at the window looking out to the north. they sat silent for a time gazing away to the hills. it was a grey sad day, the sky was overcast, and the weather seemed to draw to rain. at last the prince said, "there will be no sunshine to-day. what if we were to drive over and join the rest at the tournament?" his young wife gladly consented, for she longed to see more of the world than those eternal green woods and those eternal blue hills, which were all she ever saw from the window. so the horses were put into the coach, and it rattled up to the door, and in they got and away they drove. at first all went well. the clouds hung low over the woods, the wind sighed in the trees, a drearier day you could hardly imagine. so they joined the rest at the other castle and took their seats to watch the jousting in the lists. so intent were they in watching the gay spectacle of the prancing steeds, the fluttering pennons, and the glittering armour of the knights, that they failed to mark the change, the fatal change, in the weather. for the wind was rising and had begun to disperse the clouds, and suddenly the sun broke through, and the glory of it fell like an aureole on the young wife, and at once she vanished away. no sooner did her husband miss her from his side than he, too, mysteriously disappeared. the tournament broke up in confusion, the bereft father hastened home, and shut himself up in the dark castle from which the light of life had departed. the green woods and the blue hills could still be seen from the window that looked to the north, but the young faces that had gazed out of it so wistfully were gone, as it seemed, for ever.[ ] [tyrolese story of the girl who might not see the sun.] a tyrolese story tells how it was the doom of a lovely maiden with golden hair to be transported into the belly of a whale if ever a sunbeam fell on her. hearing of the fame of her beauty the king of the country sent for her to be his bride, and her brother drove the fair damsel to the palace in a carefully closed coach, himself sitting on the box and handling the reins. on the way they overtook two hideous witches, who pretended they were weary and begged for a lift in the coach. at first the brother refused to take them in, but his tender-hearted sister entreated him to have compassion on the two poor footsore women; for you may easily imagine that she was not acquainted with their true character. so down he got rather surlily from the box, opened the coach door, and in the two witches stepped, laughing in their sleeves. but no sooner had the brother mounted the box and whipped up the horses, than one of the two wicked witches bored a hole in the closed coach. a sunbeam at once shot through the hole and fell on the fair damsel. so she vanished from the coach and was spirited away into the belly of a whale in the neighbouring sea. you can imagine the consternation of the king, when the coach door opened and instead of his blooming bride out bounced two hideous hags![ ] [modern greek stories of the maid who might not see the sun.] in a modern greek folk-tale the fates predict that in her fifteenth year a princess must be careful not to let the sun shine on her, for if this were to happen she would be turned into a lizard.[ ] in another modern greek tale the sun bestows a daughter upon a childless woman on condition of taking the child back to himself when she is twelve years old. so, when the child was twelve, the mother closed the doors and windows, and stopped up all the chinks and crannies, to prevent the sun from coming to fetch away her daughter. but she forgot to stop up the key-hole, and a sunbeam streamed through it and carried off the girl.[ ] in a sicilian story a seer foretells that a king will have a daughter who, in her fourteenth year, will conceive a child by the sun. so, when the child was born, the king shut her up in a lonely tower which had no window, lest a sunbeam should fall on her. when she was nearly fourteen years old, it happened that her parents sent her a piece of roasted kid, in which she found a sharp bone. with this bone she scraped a hole in the wall, and a sunbeam shot through the hole and got her with child.[ ] [the story of danae and its parallel in a kirghiz legend.] the old greek story of danae, who was confined by her father in a subterranean chamber or a brazen tower, but impregnated by zeus, who reached her in the shape of a shower of gold,[ ] perhaps belongs to the same class of tales. it has its counterpart in the legend which the kirghiz of siberia tell of their ancestry. a certain khan had a fair daughter, whom he kept in a dark iron house, that no man might see her. an old woman tended her; and when the girl was grown to maidenhood she asked the old woman, "where do you go so often?" "my child," said the old dame, "there is a bright world. in that bright world your father and mother live, and all sorts of people live there. that is where i go." the maiden said, "good mother, i will tell nobody, but shew me that bright world." so the old woman took the girl out of the iron house. but when she saw the bright world, the girl tottered and fainted; and the eye of god fell upon her, and she conceived. her angry father put her in a golden chest and sent her floating away (fairy gold can float in fairyland) over the wide sea.[ ] the shower of gold in the greek story, and the eye of god in the kirghiz legend, probably stand for sunlight and the sun. [impregnation of women by the sun in legends.] the idea that women may be impregnated by the sun is not uncommon in legends. thus, for example, among the indians of guacheta in colombia, it is said, a report once ran that the sun would impregnate one of their maidens, who should bear a child and yet remain a virgin. the chief had two daughters, and was very desirous that one of them should conceive in this miraculous manner. so every day he made them climb a hill to the east of his house in order to be touched by the first beams of the rising sun. his wishes were fulfilled, for one of the damsels conceived and after nine months gave birth to an emerald. so she wrapped it in cotton and placed it in her bosom, and in a few days it turned into a child, who received the name of garanchacha and was universally recognized as a son of the sun.[ ] again, the samoans tell of a woman named mangamangai, who became pregnant by looking at the rising sun. her son grew up and was named "child of the sun." at his marriage he applied to his mother for a dowry, but she bade him apply to his father, the sun, and told him how to go to him. so one morning he took a long vine and made a noose in it; then climbing up a tree he threw the noose over the sun and caught him fast. thus arrested in his progress, the luminary asked him what he wanted, and being told by the young man that he wanted a present for his bride, the sun obligingly packed up a store of blessings in a basket, with which the youth descended to the earth.[ ] [traces in marriage customs of the belief that women can be impregnated by the sun.] even in the marriage customs of various races we may perhaps detect traces of this belief that women can be impregnated by the sun. thus amongst the chaco indians of south america a newly married couple used to sleep the first night on a mare's or bullock's skin with their heads towards the west, "for the marriage is not considered ratified till the rising sun shines on their feet the succeeding morning."[ ] at old hindoo marriages the first ceremony was the "impregnation-rite" (_garbh[=a]dh[=a]na_); during the previous day the bride was made to look towards the sun or to be in some way exposed to its rays.[ ] amongst the turks of siberia it was formerly the custom on the morning after the marriage to lead the young couple out of the hut to greet the rising sun. the same custom is said to be still practised in iran and central asia under a belief that the beams of the rising sun are the surest means of impregnating the new bride.[ ] [belief in the impregnation of women by the moon.] and as some people think that women may be gotten with child by the sun, so others imagine that they can conceive by the moon. according to the greenlanders the moon is a young man, and he "now and then comes down to give their wives a visit and caress them; for which reason no woman dare sleep lying upon her back, without she first spits upon her fingers and rubs her belly with it. for the same reason the young maids are afraid to stare long at the moon, imagining they may get a child by the bargain."[ ] similarly breton peasants are reported to believe that women or girls who expose their persons to the moonlight may be impregnated by it and give birth to monsters.[ ] § . _reasons for the seclusion of girls at puberty_ [the reason for the seclusion of women at puberty is the dread of menstruous blood.] the motive for the restraints so commonly imposed on girls at puberty is the deeply engrained dread which primitive man universally entertains of menstruous blood. he fears it at all times but especially on its first appearance; hence the restrictions under which women lie at their first menstruation are usually more stringent than those which they have to observe at any subsequent recurrence of the mysterious flow. some evidence of the fear and of the customs based on it has been cited in an earlier part of this work;[ ] but as the terror, for it is nothing less, which the phenomenon periodically strikes into the mind of the savage has deeply influenced his life and institutions, it may be well to illustrate the subject with some further examples. [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the aborigines of australia.] thus in the encounter bay tribe of south australia there is, or used to be, a "superstition which obliges a woman to separate herself from the camp at the time of her monthly illness, when, if a young man or boy should approach, she calls out, and he immediately makes a circuit to avoid her. if she is neglectful upon this point, she exposes herself to scolding, and sometimes to severe beating by her husband or nearest relation, because the boys are told from their infancy, that if they see the blood they will early become grey-headed, and their strength will fail prematurely."[ ] and of the south australian aborigines in general we read that there is a "custom requiring all boys and uninitiated young men to sleep at some distance from the huts of the adults, and to remove altogether away in the morning as soon as daylight dawns, and the natives begin to move about. this is to prevent their seeing the women, some of whom may be menstruating; and if looked upon by the young males, it is supposed that dire results will follow."[ ] and amongst these tribes women in their courses "are not allowed to eat fish of any kind, or to go near the water at all; it being one of their superstitions, that if a female, in that state, goes near the water, no success can be expected by the men in fishing."[ ] similarly, among the natives of the murray river, menstruous women "were not allowed to go near water for fear of frightening the fish. they were also not allowed to eat them, for the same reason. a woman during such periods would never cross the river in a canoe, or even fetch water for the camp. it was sufficient for her to say _thama_, to ensure her husband getting the water himself."[ ] the dieri of central australia believe that if women at these times were to eat fish or bathe in a river, the fish would all die and the water would dry up. in this tribe a mark made with red ochre round a woman's mouth indicates that she has her courses; no one would offer fish to such a woman.[ ] the arunta of central australia forbid menstruous women to gather the _irriakura_ bulbs, which form a staple article of diet for both men and women. they believe that were a woman to break this rule, the supply of bulbs would fail.[ ] among the aborigines of victoria the wife at her monthly periods had to sleep on the opposite side of the fire from her husband; she might partake of nobody's food, and nobody would partake of hers, for people thought that if they ate or drank anything that had been touched by a woman in her courses, it would make them weak or ill. unmarried girls and widows at such times had to paint their heads and the upper parts of their bodies red,[ ] no doubt as a danger signal. [severe penalties inflicted for breaches of the custom of seclusion.] in some australian tribes the seclusion of menstruous women was even more rigid, and was enforced by severer penalties than a scolding or a beating. thus with regard to certain tribes of new south wales and southern queensland we are told that "during the monthly illness, the woman is not allowed to touch anything that men use, or even to walk on a path that any man frequents, on pain of death."[ ] again, "there is a regulation relating to camps in the wakelbura tribe which forbids the women coming into the encampment by the same path as the men. any violation of this rule would in a large camp be punished with death. the reason for this is the dread with which they regard the menstrual period of women. during such a time, a woman is kept entirely away from the camp, half a mile at least. a woman in such a condition has boughs of some tree of her totem tied round her loins, and is constantly watched and guarded, for it is thought that should any male be so unfortunate as to see a woman in such a condition, he would die. if such a woman were to let herself be seen by a man, she would probably be put to death. when the woman has recovered, she is painted red and white, her head covered with feathers, and returns to the camp."[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women in the torres straits islands, new guinea, galela, and sumatra.] in muralug, one of the torres straits islands, a menstruous woman may not eat anything that lives in the sea, else the natives believe that the fisheries would fail. again, in mabuiag, another of these islands, women who have their courses on them may not eat turtle flesh nor turtle eggs, probably for a similar reason. and during the season when the turtles are pairing the restrictions laid on such a woman are much severer. she may not even enter a house in which there is turtle flesh, nor approach a fire on which the flesh is cooking; she may not go near the sea and she should not walk on the beach below high-water mark. nay, the infection extends to her husband, who may not himself harpoon or otherwise take an active part in catching turtle; however, he is permitted to form one of the crew on a turtling expedition, provided he takes the precaution of rubbing his armpits with certain leaves, to which no doubt a disinfectant virtue is ascribed.[ ] among the kai of german new guinea women at their monthly sickness must live in little huts built for them in the forest; they may not enter the cultivated fields, for if they did go to them, and the pigs were to taste of the blood, it would inspire the animals with an irresistible desire to go likewise into the fields, where they would commit great depredations on the growing crops. hence the issue from women at these times is carefully buried to prevent the pigs from getting at it. and conversely, if the pigs often break into the fields, the blame is laid on the women who by the neglect of these elementary precautions have put temptation in the way of the swine.[ ] in galela, to the west of new guinea, women at their monthly periods may not enter a tobacco-field, or the plants would be attacked by disease.[ ] the minangkabauers of sumatra are persuaded that if a woman in her unclean state were to go near a rice-field, the crop would be spoiled.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the tribes of south africa.] the bushmen of south africa think that, by a glance of a girl's eye at the time when she ought to be kept in strict retirement, men become fixed in whatever position they happen to occupy, with whatever they were holding in their hands, and are changed into trees that talk.[ ] cattle-rearing tribes of south africa hold that their cattle would die if the milk were drunk by a menstruous woman;[ ] and they fear the same disaster if a drop of her blood were to fall on the ground and the oxen were to pass over it. to prevent such a calamity women in general, not menstruous women only, are forbidden to enter the cattle enclosure; and more than that, they may not use the ordinary paths in entering the village or in passing from one hut to another. they are obliged to make circuitous tracks at the back of the huts in order to avoid the ground in the middle of the village where the cattle stand or lie down. these women's tracks may be seen at every caffre village.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the tribes of central and east africa.] similarly among the bahima, a cattle-breeding tribe of ankole, in central africa, no menstruous woman may drink milk, lest by so doing she should injure the cows; and she may not lie on her husband's bed, no doubt lest she should injure him. indeed she is forbidden to lie on a bed at all and must sleep on the ground. her diet is restricted to vegetables and beer.[ ] among the baganda, in like manner, no menstruous woman might drink milk or come into contact with any milk-vessel;[ ] and she might not touch anything that belonged to her husband, nor sit on his mat, nor cook his food. if she touched anything of his at such a time it was deemed equivalent to wishing him dead or to actually working magic for his destruction.[ ] were she to handle any article of his, he would surely fall ill; were she to handle his weapons, he would certainly be killed in the next battle. even a woman who did not menstruate was believed by the baganda to be a source of danger to her husband, indeed capable of killing him. hence, before he went to war, he used to wound her slightly with his spear so as to draw blood; this was thought to ensure his safe return.[ ] apparently the notion was that if the wife did not lose blood in one way or another, her husband would be bled in war to make up for her deficiency; so by way of guarding against this undesirable event, he took care to relieve her of a little superfluous blood before he repaired to the field of honour. further, the baganda would not suffer a menstruous woman to visit a well; if she did so, they feared that the water would dry up, and that she herself would fall sick and die, unless she confessed her fault and the medicine-man made atonement for her.[ ] among the akikuyu of british east africa, if a new hut is built in a village and the wife chances to menstruate in it on the day she lights the first fire there, the hut must be broken down and demolished the very next day. the woman may on no account sleep a second night in it; there is a curse (_thahu_) both on her and on it.[ ] in the suk tribe of british east africa warriors may not eat anything that has been touched by menstruous women. if they did so, it is believed that they would lose their virility; "in the rain they will shiver and in the heat they will faint." suk men and women take their meals apart, because the men fear that one or more of the women may be menstruating.[ ] the anyanja of british central africa, at the southern end of lake nyassa, think that a man who should sleep with a woman in her courses would fall sick and die, unless some remedy were applied in time. and with them it is a rule that at such times a woman should not put any salt into the food she is cooking, otherwise the people who partook of the food salted by her would suffer from a certain disease called _tsempo_; hence to obviate the danger she calls a child to put the salt into the dish.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the tribes of west africa.] among the hos, a tribe of ewe negroes of togoland in west africa, so long as a wife has her monthly sickness she may not cook for her husband, nor lie on his bed, nor sit on his stool; an infraction of these rules would assuredly, it is believed, cause her husband to die. if her husband is a priest, or a magician, or a chief, she may not pass the days of her uncleanness in the house, but must go elsewhere till she is clean.[ ] among the ewe negroes of this region each village has its huts where women who have their courses on them must spend their time secluded from intercourse with other people. sometimes these huts stand by themselves in public places; sometimes they are mere shelters built either at the back or front of the ordinary dwelling-houses. a woman is punishable if she does not pass the time of her monthly sickness in one of these huts or shelters provided for her use. thus, if she shews herself in her own house or even in the yard of the house, she may be fined a sheep, which is killed, its flesh divided among the people, and its blood poured on the image of the chief god as a sin-offering to expiate her offence. she is also forbidden to go to the place where the villagers draw water, and if she breaks the rule, she must give a goat to be killed; its flesh is distributed, and its blood, diluted with water and mixed with herbs, is sprinkled on the watering-place and on the paths leading to it. were any woman to disregard these salutary precautions, the chief fetish-man in the village would fall sick and die, which would be an irreparable loss to society.[ ] [powerful influence ascribed to menstruous blood in arab legend.] the miraculous virtue ascribed to menstruous blood is well illustrated in a story told by the arab chronicler tabari. he relates how sapor, king of persia, besieged the strong city of atrae, in the desert of mesopotamia, for several years without being able to take it. but the king of the city, whose name was daizan, had a daughter, and when it was with her after the manner of women she went forth from the city and dwelt for a time in the suburb, for such was the custom of the place. now it fell out that, while she tarried there, sapor saw her and loved her, and she loved him; for he was a handsome man and she a lovely maid. and she said to him, "what will you give me if i shew you how you may destroy the walls of this city and slay my father?" and he said to her, "i will give you what you will, and i will exalt you above my other wives, and will set you nearer to me than them all." then she said to him, "take a greenish dove with a ring about its neck, and write something on its foot with the menstruous blood of a blue-eyed maid; then let the bird loose, and it will perch on the walls of the city, and they will fall down." for that, says the arab historian, was the talisman of the city, which could not be destroyed in any other way. and sapor did as she bade him, and the city fell down in a heap, and he stormed it and slew daizan on the spot.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the jews and in syria.] according to the talmud, if a woman at the beginning of her period passes between two men, she thereby kills one of them; if she passes between them towards the end of her period, she only causes them to quarrel violently.[ ] maimonides tells us that down to his time it was a common custom in the east to keep women at their periods in a separate house and to burn everything on which they had trodden; a man who spoke with such a woman or who was merely exposed to the same wind that blew over her, became thereby unclean.[ ] peasants of the lebanon think that menstruous women are the cause of many misfortunes; their shadow causes flowers to wither and trees to perish, it even arrests the movements of serpents; if one of them mounts a horse, the animal might die or at least be disabled for a long time.[ ] in syria to this day a woman who has her courses on her may neither salt nor pickle, for the people think that whatever she pickled or salted would not keep.[ ] the toaripi of new guinea, doubtless for a similar reason, will not allow women at such times to cook.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women in india.] the bhuiyars, a dravidian tribe of south mirzapur, are said to feel an intense dread of menstrual pollution. every house has two doors, one of which is used only by women in this condition. during her impurity the wife is fed by her husband apart from the rest of the family, and whenever she has to quit the house she is obliged to creep out on her hands and knees in order not to defile the thatch by her touch.[ ] the kharwars, another aboriginal tribe of the same district, keep their women at such seasons in the outer verandah of the house for eight days, and will not let them enter the kitchen or the cowhouse; during this time the unclean woman may not cook nor even touch the cooking vessels. when the eight days are over, she bathes, washes her clothes, and returns to family life.[ ] hindoo women seclude themselves at their monthly periods and observe a number of rules, such as not to drink milk, not to milk cows, not to touch fire, not to lie on a high bed, not to walk on common paths, not to cross the track of animals, not to walk by the side of flowering plants, and not to observe the heavenly bodies.[ ] the motive for these restrictions is not mentioned, but probably it is a dread of the baleful influence which is supposed to emanate from women at these times. the parsees, who reverence fire, will not suffer menstruous women to see it or even to look on a lighted taper;[ ] during their infirmity the women retire from their houses to little lodges in the country, whither victuals are brought to them daily; at the end of their seclusion they bathe and send a kid, a fowl, or a pigeon to the priest as an offering.[ ] in annam a woman at her monthly periods is deemed a centre of impurity, and contact with her is avoided. she is subject to all sorts of restrictions which she must observe herself and which others must observe towards her. she may not touch any food which is to be preserved by salting, whether it be fish, flesh, or vegetables; for were she to touch it the food would putrefy. she may not enter any sacred place, she may not be present at any religious ceremony. the linen which she wears at such times must be washed by herself at sunrise, never at night. on reaching puberty girls may not touch flowers or the fruits of certain trees, for touched by them the flowers would fade and the fruits fall to the ground. "it is on account of their reputation for impurity that the women generally live isolated. in every house they have an apartment reserved for them, and they never eat at the same table as the men. for the same reason they are excluded from all religious ceremonies. they may only be present at family ceremonies, but without ever officiating in them."[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the indians of south and central america.] the guayquiries of the orinoco think that when a woman has her courses, everything upon which she steps will die, and that if a man treads on the place where she has passed, his legs will immediately swell up.[ ] among the guaraunos of the same great river, women at their periods are regarded as unclean and kept apart in special huts, where all that they need is brought to them.[ ] in like manner among the piapocos, an indian tribe on the guayabero, a tributary of the orinoco, a menstruous woman is secluded from her family every month for four or five days. she passes the time in a special hut, whither her husband brings her food; and at the end of the time she takes a bath and resumes her usual occupations.[ ] so among the indians of the mosquito territory in central america, when a woman is in her courses, she must quit the village for seven or eight days. a small hut is built for her in the wood, and at night some of the village girls go and sleep with her to keep her company. or if the nights are dark and jaguars are known to be prowling in the neighbourhood, her husband will take his gun or bow and sleep in a hammock near her. she may neither handle nor cook food; all is prepared and carried to her. when the sickness is over, she bathes in the river, puts on clean clothes, and returns to her household duties.[ ] among the bri-bri indians of costa rica a girl at her first menstruation retires to a hut built for the purpose in the forest, and there she must stay till she has been purified by a medicine-man, who breathes on her and places various objects, such as feathers, the beaks of birds, the teeth of beasts, and so forth, upon her body. a married woman at her periods remains in the house with her husband, but she is reckoned unclean (_bukuru_) and must avoid all intimate relations with him. she uses for plates only banana leaves, which, when she has done with them, she throws away in a sequestered spot; for should a cow find and eat them, the animal would waste away and perish. also she drinks only out of a special vessel, because any person who should afterwards drink out of the same vessel would infallibly pine away and die.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the indians of north america.] among most tribes of north american indians the custom was that women in their courses retired from the camp or the village and lived during the time of their uncleanness in special huts or shelters which were appropriated to their use. there they dwelt apart, eating and sleeping by themselves, warming themselves at their own fires, and strictly abstaining from all communications with men, who shunned them just as if they were stricken with the plague. no article of furniture used in these menstrual huts might be used in any other, not even the flint and steel with which in the old days the fires were kindled. no one would borrow a light from a woman in her seclusion. if a white man in his ignorance asked to light his pipe at her fire, she would refuse to grant the request, telling him that it would make his nose bleed and his head ache, and that he would fall sick in consequence. if an indian's wooden pipe cracked, his friends would think that he had either lit it at one of these polluted fires or had held some converse with a woman during her retirement, which was esteemed a most disgraceful and wicked thing to do. decent men would not approach within a certain distance of a woman at such times, and if they had to convey anything to her they would stand some forty or fifty paces off and throw it to her. everything which was touched by her hands during this period was deemed ceremonially unclean. indeed her touch was thought to convey such pollution that if she chanced to lay a finger on a chief's lodge or his gun or anything else belonging to him, it would be instantly destroyed. if she crossed the path of a hunter or a warrior, his luck for that day at least would be gone. were she not thus secluded, it was supposed that the men would be attacked by diseases of various kinds, which would prove mortal. in some tribes a woman who infringed the rules of separation might have to answer with her life for any misfortunes that might happen to individuals or to the tribe in consequence, as it was supposed, of her criminal negligence. when she quitted her tent or hut to go into retirement, the fire in it was extinguished and the ashes thrown away outside of the village, and a new fire was kindled, as if the old one had been defiled by her presence. at the end of their seclusion the women bathed in running streams and returned to their usual occupations.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the creek, choctaw, omaha, and cheyenne indians.] thus, to take examples, the creek and kindred indians of the united states compelled women at menstruation to live in separate huts at some distance from the village. there the women had to stay, at the risk of being surprised and cut off by enemies. it was thought "a most horrid and dangerous pollution" to go near the women at such times; and the danger extended to enemies who, if they slew the women, had to cleanse themselves from the pollution by means of certain sacred herbs and roots.[ ] similarly, the choctaw women had to quit their huts during their monthly periods, and might not return till after they had been purified. while their uncleanness lasted they had to prepare their own food. the men believed that if they were to approach a menstruous woman, they would fall ill, and that some mishap would overtake them when they went to the wars.[ ] when an omaha woman has her courses on her, she retires from the family to a little shelter of bark or grass, supported by sticks, where she kindles a fire and cooks her victuals alone. her seclusion lasts four days. during this time she may not approach or touch a horse, for the indians believe that such contamination would impoverish or weaken the animal.[ ] among the potawatomis the women at their monthly periods "are not allowed to associate with the rest of the nation; they are completely laid aside, and are not permitted to touch any article of furniture or food which the men have occasion to use. if the indians be stationary at the time, the women are placed outside of the camp; if on a march, they are not allowed to follow the trail, but must take a different path and keep at a distance from the main body."[ ] among the cheyennes menstruous women slept in special lodges; the men believed that if they slept with their wives at such times, they would probably be wounded in their next battle. a man who owned a shield had very particularly to be on his guard against women in their courses. he might not go into a lodge where one of them happened to be, nor even into a lodge where one of them had been, until a ceremony of purification had been performed. sweet grass and juniper were burnt in the tent, and the pegs were pulled up and the covering thrown back, as if the tent were about to be struck. after this pretence of decamping from the polluted spot the owner of the shield might enter the tent.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the indians of british columbia.] the stseelis indians of british columbia imagined that if a menstruous woman were to step over a bundle of arrows, the arrows would thereby be rendered useless and might even cause the death of their owner; and similarly that if she passed in front of a hunter who carried a gun, the weapon would never shoot straight again. neither her husband nor her father would dream of going out to hunt while she was in this state; and even if he had wished to do so, the other hunters would not go with him. hence to keep them out of harm's way, the women, both married and unmarried, were secluded at these times for four days in shelters.[ ] among the thompson indians of british columbia every woman had to isolate herself from the rest of the people during every recurring period of menstruation, and had to live some little way off in a small brush or bark lodge made for the purpose. at these times she was considered unclean, must use cooking and eating utensils of her own, and was supplied with food by some other woman. if she smoked out of a pipe other than her own, that pipe would ever afterwards be hot to smoke. if she crossed in front of a gun, that gun would thenceforth be useless for the war or the chase, unless indeed the owner promptly washed the weapon in "medecine" or struck the woman with it once on each principal part of her body. if a man ate or had any intercourse with a menstruous woman, nay if he merely wore clothes or mocassins made or patched by her, he would have bad luck in hunting and the bears would attack him fiercely. before being admitted again among the people, she had to change all her clothes and wash several times in clear water. the clothes worn during her isolation were hung on a tree, to be used next time, or to be washed. for one day after coming back among the people she did not cook food. were a man to eat food cooked by a woman at such times, he would have incapacitated himself for hunting and exposed himself to sickness or death.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the chippeway indians.] among the chippeways and other indians of the hudson bay territory, menstruous women are excluded from the camp, and take up their abode in huts of branches. they wear long hoods, which effectually conceal the head and breast. they may not touch the household furniture nor any objects used by men; for their touch "is supposed to defile them, so that their subsequent use would be followed by certain mischief or misfortune," such as disease or death. they must drink out of a swan's bone. they may not walk on the common paths nor cross the tracks of animals. they "are never permitted to walk on the ice of rivers or lakes, or near the part where the men are hunting beaver, or where a fishing-net is set, for fear of averting their success. they are also prohibited at those times from partaking of the head of any animal, and even from walking in or crossing the track where the head of a deer, moose, beaver, and many other animals have lately been carried, either on a sledge or on the back. to be guilty of a violation of this custom is considered as of the greatest importance; because they firmly believe that it would be a means of preventing the hunter from having an equal success in his future excursions."[ ] so the lapps forbid women at menstruation to walk on that part of the shore where the fishers are in the habit of setting out their fish;[ ] and the esquimaux of bering strait believe that if hunters were to come near women in their courses they would catch no game.[ ] [dread and seclusion of menstruous women among the tinneh or déné indians; customs and beliefs of the carrier indians in regard to menstruous women.] but the beliefs and superstitions of this sort that prevail among the western tribes of the great déné or tinneh stock, to which the chippeways belong, have been so well described by an experienced missionary, that i will give his description in his own words. prominent among the ceremonial rites of these indians, he says, "are the observances peculiar to the fair sex, and many of them are remarkably analogous to those practised by the hebrew women, so much so that, were it not savouring of profanity, the ordinances of the déné ritual code might be termed a new edition 'revised and considerably augmented' of the mosaic ceremonial law. among the carriers,[ ] as soon as a girl has experienced the first flow of the menses which in the female constitution are a natural discharge, her father believed himself under the obligation of atoning for her supposedly sinful condition by a small impromptu distribution of clothes among the natives. this periodical state of women was considered as one of legal impurity fateful both to the man who happened to have any intercourse, however indirect, with her, and to the woman herself who failed in scrupulously observing all the rites prescribed by ancient usage for persons in her condition. [seclusion of carrier girls at puberty.] "upon entering into that stage of her life, the maiden was immediately sequestered from company, even that of her parents, and compelled to dwell in a small branch hut by herself away from beaten paths and the gaze of passers-by. as she was supposed to exercise malefic influence on any man who might inadvertently glance at her, she had to wear a sort of head-dress combining in itself the purposes of a veil, a bonnet, and a mantlet. it was made of tanned skin, its forepart was shaped like a long fringe completely hiding from view the face and breasts; then it formed on the head a close-fitting cap or bonnet, and finally fell in a broad band almost to the heels. this head-dress was made and publicly placed on her head by a paternal aunt, who received at once some present from the girl's father. when, three or four years later, the period of sequestration ceased, only this same aunt had the right to take off her niece's ceremonial head-dress. furthermore, the girl's fingers, wrists, and legs at the ankles and immediately below the knees, were encircled with ornamental rings and bracelets of sinew intended as a protection against the malign influences she was supposed to be possessed with.[ ] to a belt girding her waist were suspended two bone implements called respectively _tsoenkuz_ (bone tube) and _tsiltsoet_ (head scratcher). the former was a hollowed swan bone to drink with, any other mode of drinking being unlawful to her. the latter was fork-like and was called into requisition whenever she wanted to scratch her head--immediate contact of the fingers with the head being reputed injurious to her health. while thus secluded, she was called _asta_, that is 'interred alive' in carrier, and she had to submit to a rigorous fast and abstinence. her only allowed food consisted of dried fish boiled in a small bark vessel which nobody else must touch, and she had to abstain especially from meat of any kind, as well as fresh fish. nor was this all she had to endure; even her contact, however remote, with these two articles of diet was so dreaded that she could not cross the public paths or trails, or the tracks of animals. whenever absolute necessity constrained her to go beyond such spots, she had to be packed or carried over them lest she should contaminate the game or meat which had passed that way, or had been brought over these paths; and also for the sake of self-preservation against tabooed, and consequently to her, deleterious food. in the same way she was never allowed to wade in streams or lakes, for fear of causing death to the fish. "it was also a prescription of the ancient ritual code for females during this primary condition to eat as little as possible, and to remain lying down, especially in course of each monthly flow, not only as a natural consequence of the prolonged fast and resulting weakness; but chiefly as an exhibition of a becoming penitential spirit which was believed to be rewarded by long life and continual good health in after years. [seclusion of carrier women at their monthly periods; reasons for the seclusion of menstruous women among the indians.] "these mortifications or seclusion did not last less than three or four years. useless to say that during all that time marriage could not be thought of, since the girl could not so much as be seen by men. when married, the same sequestration was practised relatively to husband and fellow-villagers--without the particular head-dress and rings spoken of--on the occasion of every recurring menstruation. sometimes it was protracted as long as ten days at a time, especially during the first years of cohabitation. even when she returned to her mate, she was not permitted to sleep with him on the first nor frequently on the second night, but would choose a distant corner of the lodge to spread her blanket, as if afraid to defile him with her dread uncleanness."[ ] elsewhere the same writer tells us that most of the devices to which these indians used to resort for the sake of ensuring success in the chase "were based on their regard for continence and their excessive repugnance for, and dread of, menstruating women."[ ] but the strict observances imposed on tinneh or déné women at such times were designed at the same time to protect the women themselves from the evil consequences of their dangerous condition. thus it was thought that women in their courses could not partake of the head, heart, or hind part of an animal that had been caught in a snare without exposing themselves to a premature death through a kind of rabies. they might not cut or carve salmon, because to do so would seriously endanger their health, and especially would enfeeble their arms for life. and they had to abstain from cutting up the grebes which are caught by the carriers in great numbers every spring, because otherwise the blood with which these fowls abound would occasion haemorrhage or an unnaturally prolonged flux in the transgressor.[ ] similarly indian women of the thompson tribe abstained from venison and the flesh of other large game during menstruation, lest the animals should be displeased and the menstrual flow increased.[ ] for a similar reason, probably, shuswap girls during their seclusion at puberty are forbidden to eat anything that bleeds.[ ] the same principle may perhaps partly explain the rule, of which we have had some examples, that women at such times should refrain from fish and flesh, and restrict themselves to a vegetable diet. [similar rules of seclusion enjoined on menstruous women in ancient hindoo, persian, and hebrew codes.] the philosophic student of human nature will observe, or learn, without surprise that ideas thus deeply ingrained in the savage mind reappear at a more advanced stage of society in those elaborate codes which have been drawn up for the guidance of certain peoples by lawgivers who claim to have derived the rules they inculcate from the direct inspiration of the deity. however we may explain it, the resemblance which exists between the earliest official utterances of the deity and the ideas of savages is unquestionably close and remarkable; whether it be, as some suppose, that god communed face to face with man in those early days, or, as others maintain, that man mistook his wild and wandering thoughts for a revelation from heaven. be that as it may, certain it is that the natural uncleanness of woman at her monthly periods is a conception which has occurred, or been revealed, with singular unanimity to several ancient legislators. the hindoo lawgiver manu, who professed to have received his institutes from the creator brahman, informs us that the wisdom, the energy, the strength, the sight, and the vitality of a man who approaches a woman in her courses will utterly perish; whereas, if he avoids her, his wisdom, energy, strength, sight, and vitality will all increase.[ ] the persian lawgiver zoroaster, who, if we can take his word for it, derived his code from the mouth of the supreme being ahura mazda, devoted special attention to the subject. according to him, the menstrous flow, at least in its abnormal manifestations, is a work of ahriman, or the devil. therefore, so long as it lasts, a woman "is unclean and possessed of the demon; she must be kept confined, apart from the faithful whom her touch would defile, and from the fire which her very look would injure; she is not allowed to eat as much as she wishes, as the strength she might acquire would accrue to the fiends. her food is not given her from hand to hand, but is passed to her from a distance, in a long leaden spoon."[ ] the hebrew lawgiver moses, whose divine legation is as little open to question as that of manu and zoroaster, treats the subject at still greater length; but i must leave to the reader the task of comparing the inspired ordinances on this head with the merely human regulations of the carrier indians which they so closely resemble. [superstitions as to menstruous women in ancient and modern europe.] amongst the civilized nations of europe the superstitions which cluster round this mysterious aspect of woman's nature are not less extravagant than those which prevail among savages. in the oldest existing cyclopaedia--the _natural history_ of pliny--the list of dangers apprehended from menstruation is longer than any furnished by mere barbarians. according to pliny, the touch of a menstruous woman turned wine to vinegar, blighted crops, killed seedlings, blasted gardens, brought down the fruit from trees, dimmed mirrors, blunted razors, rusted iron and brass (especially at the waning of the moon), killed bees, or at least drove them from their hives, caused mares to miscarry, and so forth.[ ] similarly, in various parts of europe, it is still believed that if a woman in her courses enters a brewery the beer will turn sour; if she touches beer, wine, vinegar, or milk, it will go bad; if she makes jam, it will not keep; if she mounts a mare, it will miscarry; if she touches buds, they will wither; if she climbs a cherry tree, it will die.[ ] in brunswick people think that if a menstruous woman assists at the killing of a pig, the pork will putrefy.[ ] in the greek island of calymnos a woman at such times may not go to the well to draw water, nor cross a running stream, nor enter the sea. her presence in a boat is said to raise storms.[ ] [the intention of secluding menstruous women is to neutralize the dangerous influences which are thought to emanate from them in that condition; suspension between heaven and earth.] thus the object of secluding women at menstruation is to neutralize the dangerous influences which are supposed to emanate from them at such times. that the danger is believed to be especially great at the first menstruation appears from the unusual precautions taken to isolate girls at this crisis. two of these precautions have been illustrated above, namely, the rules that the girl may not touch the ground nor see the sun. the general effect of these rules is to keep her suspended, so to say, between heaven and earth. whether enveloped in her hammock and slung up to the roof, as in south america, or raised above the ground in a dark and narrow cage, as in new ireland, she may be considered to be out of the way of doing mischief, since, being shut off both from the earth and from the sun, she can poison neither of these great sources of life by her deadly contagion. in short, she is rendered harmless by being, in electrical language, insulated. but the precautions thus taken to isolate or insulate the girl are dictated by a regard for her own safety as well as for the safety of others. for it is thought that she herself would suffer if she were to neglect the prescribed regimen. thus zulu girls, as we have seen, believe that they would shrivel to skeletons if the sun were to shine on them at puberty, and in some brazilian tribes the young women think that a transgression of the rules would entail sores on the neck and throat. in short, the girl is viewed as charged with a powerful force which, if not kept within bounds, may prove destructive both to herself and to all with whom she comes in contact. to repress this force within the limits necessary for the safety of all concerned is the object of the taboos in question. [the same explanation applies to the similar rules of seclusion observed by divine kings and priests; suspension between heaven and earth.] the same explanation applies to the observance of the same rules by divine kings and priests. the uncleanness, as it is called, of girls at puberty and the sanctity of holy men do not, to the primitive mind, differ materially from each other. they are only different manifestations of the same mysterious energy which, like energy in general, is in itself neither good nor bad, but becomes beneficent or maleficent according to its application.[ ] accordingly, if, like girls at puberty, divine personages may neither touch the ground nor see the sun, the reason is, on the one hand, a fear lest their divinity might, at contact with earth or heaven, discharge itself with fatal violence on either; and, on the other hand, an apprehension that the divine being, thus drained of his ethereal virtue, might thereby be incapacitated for the future performance of those magical functions, upon the proper discharge of which the safety of the people and even of the world is believed to hang. thus the rules in question fall under the head of the taboos which we examined in the second part of this work;[ ] they are intended to preserve the life of the divine person and with it the life of his subjects and worshippers. nowhere, it is thought, can his precious yet dangerous life be at once so safe and so harmless as when it is neither in heaven nor in earth, but, as far as possible, suspended between the two.[ ] [stories of immortality attained by suspension between heaven and earth.] in legends and folk-tales, which reflect the ideas of earlier ages, we find this suspension between heaven and earth attributed to beings who have been endowed with the coveted yet burdensome gift of immortality. the wizened remains of the deathless sibyl are said to have been preserved in a jar or urn which hung in a temple of apollo at cumae; and when a group of merry children, tired, perhaps, of playing in the sunny streets, sought the shade of the temple and amused themselves by gathering underneath the familiar jar and calling out, "sibyl, what do you wish?" a hollow voice, like an echo, used to answer from the urn, "i wish to die."[ ] a story, taken down from the lips of a german peasant at thomsdorf, relates that once upon a time there was a girl in london who wished to live for ever, so they say: "_london, london is a fine town. a maiden prayed to live for ever._" and still she lives and hangs in a basket in a church, and every st. john's day, about the hour of noon, she eats a roll of bread.[ ] another german story tells of a lady who resided at danzig and was so rich and so blest with all that life can give that she wished to live always. so when she came to her latter end, she did not really die but only looked like dead, and very soon they found her in a hollow of a pillar in the church, half standing and half sitting, motionless. she stirred never a limb, but they saw quite plainly that she was alive, and she sits there down to this blessed day. every new year's day the sacristan comes and puts a morsel of the holy bread in her mouth, and that is all she has to live on. long, long has she rued her fatal wish who set this transient life above the eternal joys of heaven.[ ] a third german story tells of a noble damsel who cherished the same foolish wish for immortality. so they put her in a basket and hung her up in a church, and there she hangs and never dies, though many a year has come and gone since they put her there. but every year on a certain day they give her a roll, and she eats it and cries out, "for ever! for ever! for ever!" and when she has so cried she falls silent again till the same time next year, and so it will go on for ever and for ever.[ ] a fourth story, taken down near oldenburg in holstein, tells of a jolly dame that ate and drank and lived right merrily and had all that heart could desire, and she wished to live always. for the first hundred years all went well, but after that she began to shrink and shrivel up, till at last she could neither walk nor stand nor eat nor drink. but die she could not. at first they fed her as if she were a little child, but when she grew smaller and smaller they put her in a glass bottle and hung her up in the church. and there she still hangs, in the church of st. mary, at lübeck. she is as small as a mouse, but once a year she stirs.[ ] notes: [ ] pechuel-loesche, "indiscretes aus loango," _zeitschrift für ethnologie_, x. ( ) p. . [ ] rev. j. macdonald, "manners, customs, superstitions, and religions of south african tribes," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xx. ( ) p. . [ ] dudley kidd, _the essential kafir_ (london, ), p. . the prohibition to drink milk under such circumstances is also mentioned, though without the reason for it, by l. alberti (_de kaffersaan de zuidkust van afrika_, amsterdam, , p. ), george thompson (_travels and adventures in southern africa_, london, , ii. _sq._), and mr. warner (in col. maclean's _compendium of kafir laws and customs_; cape town, , p. ). as to the reason for the prohibition, see below, p. . [ ] c.w. hobley, _ethnology of a-kamba and other east african tribes_ (cambridge, ), p. . [ ] rev. j. roscoe, _the baganda_ (london, ), p. . as to the interpretation which the baganda put on the act of jumping or stepping over a woman, see _id._, pp. , note . apparently some of the lower congo people interpret the act similarly. see j.h. weeks, "notes on some customs of the lower congo people," _folk-lore_, xix. ( ) p. . among the baganda the separation of children from their parents took place after weaning; girls usually went to live either with an elder married brother or (if there was none such) with one of their father's brothers; boys in like manner went to live with one of their father's brothers. see j. roscoe, _op. cit._ p. . as to the prohibition to touch food with the hands, see _taboo and the perils of the soul_, pp. _sqq._, _sqq._, etc. [ ] rev. j. roscoe, _the baganda_, p. . [ ] de la loubere, _du royaume de siam_ (amsterdam, ), i. . in travancore it is believed that women at puberty and after childbirth are peculiarly liable to be attacked by demons. see s. mateer, _the land of charity_ (london, ), p. . [ ] rev. j. roscoe, _the baganda_, p. . [ ] c. gouldsbury and h. sheane, _the great plateau of northern nigeria_ (london, ), pp. - . [ ] r. sutherland rattray, _some folk-lore, stories and songs in chinyanja_ (london, ), pp. - . [ ] rev. h. cole, "notes on the wagogo of german east africa," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxxii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] r. sutherland rattray, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] _the grihya sutras_, translated by h. oldenberg, part i. p. , part ii. p. (_sacred books of the east_, vols. xxix., xxx.). [ ] rev. j. roscoe, _the baganda_ (london, ), pp. _sq._, compare pp. , . [ ] see _totemism and exogamy_, iv. _sqq._ [ ] sir harry h. johnston, _british central africa_ (london, ), p. . [ ] oscar baumann, _durch massailand zur nilquelle_ (berlin, ), p. . [ ] lionel decle, _three years in savage africa_ (london, ), p. . compare e. jacottet, _Études sur les langues du haut-zambèze_, troisième partie (paris, ), pp. _sq._ (as to the a-louyi). [ ] e. béguin, _les ma-rotsé_ (lausanne and fontaines, ), p. . [ ] henri a. junod, _the life of a south african tribe_ (neuchatel, - ), i. _sq._ [ ] g. mccall theal, _kaffir folk-lore_ (london, ), p. . [ ] l. alberti, _de kaffers aan de zuidkust van afrika_ (amsterdam, ), pp. _sq._; h. lichtenstein, _reisen im südlichen africa_ (berlin, - ), i. . [ ] gustav fritsch, _die eingeborenen süd-afrika's_ (breslau, ), p. . this statement applies especially to the ama-xosa. [ ] g. mccall theal, _kaffir folk-lore_, p. . [ ] rev. canon henry callaway, _nursery tales, traditions, and histories of the zulus_ (natal and london, ), p. , note . from one of the zulu texts which the author edits and translates (p. ) we may infer that during the period of her seclusion a zulu girl may not light a fire. compare above, p. . [ ] e. casalis, _the basutos_ (london, ), p. . [ ] j. merolla, "voyage to congo," in j. pinkerton's _voyages and travels_ (london, - ), xvi. ; father campana, "congo; mission catholique de landana," _les missions catholiques_, xxvii. ( ) p. ; r.e. dennett, _at the back of the black man's mind_ (london, ), pp. _sq._. according to merolla, it is thought that if girls did not go through these ceremonies, they would "never be fit for procreation." the other consequences supposed to flow from the omission of the rites are mentioned by father campana. from mr. dennett's account (_op. cit._ pp. , - ) we gather that drought and famine are thought to result from the intercourse of a man with a girl who has not yet passed through the "paint-house," as the hut is called where the young women live in seclusion. according to o. dapper, the women of loango paint themselves red on every recurrence of their monthly sickness; also they tie a cord tightly round their heads and take care neither to touch their husband's food nor to appear before him (_description de l'afrique_, amsterdam, , p. ). [ ] the rev. g. brown, quoted by the rev. b. danks, "marriage customs of the new britain group," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xviii. ( ) pp. . _sq.; id., melanesians and polynesians_ (london, ), pp. - . compare _id._, "notes on the duke of york group, new britain, and new ireland," _journal of the royal geographical society_, xlvii. ( ) pp. _sq._; a. hahl, "das mittlere neumecklenburg," _globus_, xci. ( ) p. . wilfred powell's description of the new ireland custom is similar (_wanderings in a wild country_, london, , p. ). according to him, the girls wear wreaths of scented herbs round the waist and neck; an old woman or a little child occupies the lower floor of the cage; and the confinement lasts only a month. probably the long period mentioned by dr. brown is that prescribed for chiefs' daughters. poor people could not afford to keep their children so long idle. this distinction is sometimes expressly stated. see above, p. . among the goajiras of colombia rich people keep their daughters shut up in separate huts at puberty for periods varying from one to four years, but poor people cannot afford to do so for more than a fortnight or a month. see f.a. simons, "an exploration of the goajira peninsula," _proceedings of the royal geographical society_, n.s., vii. ( ) p. . in fiji, brides who were being tattooed were kept from the sun (thomas williams, _fiji and the fijians_, second edition, london, , i. ). this was perhaps a modification of the melanesian custom of secluding girls at puberty. the reason mentioned by mr. williams, "to improve her complexion," can hardly have been the original one. [ ] rev. r.h. rickard, quoted by dr. george brown, _melanesians and polynesians_, pp. _sq._. his observations were made in . [ ] r. parkinson, _dreissig jahre in der südsee_ (stuttgart, ), p. . the natives told mr. parkinson that the confinement of the girls lasts from twelve to twenty months. the length of it may have been reduced since dr. george brown described the custom in . [ ] j. chalmers and w. wyatt gill, _work and adventure in new guinea_ (london, ), p. . [ ] h. zahn and s. lehner, in r. neuhauss's _deutsch new-guinea_ (berlin, ), iii. , - . the customs of the two tribes seem to be in substantial agreement, and the accounts of them supplement each other. the description of the bukaua practice is the fuller. [ ] c.a.l.m. schwaner, _borneo, beschrijving van het stroomgebied van den barito_ (amsterdam, - ), ii. _sq._; w.f.a. zimmermann, _die inseln des indischen und stillen meeres_ (berlin, - ), ii. _sq._; otto finsch, _neu guinea und seine bewohner_ (bremen, ), pp. _sq._. [ ] j.g.f. riedel, _de sluik--en kroesharige rassen tusschen selebes en papua_ (the hague, ), p. . [ ] a. senfft, "ethnographische beiträge über die karolineninsel yap," _petermanns mitteilungen_, xlix. ( ) p. ; _id._, "die rechtssitten der jap-eingeborenen," _globus_, xci. ( ) pp. _sq._. [ ] dr. c.g. seligmann, in _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxix. ( ) pp. _sq.; id._, in _reports of the cambridge anthropological expedition to torres straits_, v. (cambridge, ) pp. _sq._ [ ] dr. c.g. seligmann, in _reports of the cambridge expedition to torres straits_, v. (cambridge, ) p. . [ ] l. crauford, in _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxiv. ( ) p. . [ ] dr. c.g. seligmann, _op. cit._ v. . [ ] walter e. roth, _north queensland ethnography, bulletin no. , superstition, magic, and medicine_ (brisbane, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] walter e. roth, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] dr. c.g. seligmann, in _reports of the cambridge anthropological expedition to torres straits_, v. (cambridge, ), p. . [ ] from notes kindly sent me by dr. c.g. seligmann. the practice of burying a girl at puberty was observed also by some indian tribes of california, but apparently rather for the purpose of producing a sweat than for the sake of concealment. the treatment lasted only twenty-four hours, during which the patient was removed from the ground and washed three or four times, to be afterwards reimbedded. dancing was kept up the whole time by the women. see h. r. schoolcraft, _indian tribes of the united states_ (philadelphia, - ), v. . [ ] dr. c.g. seligmann, in _reports of the cambridge anthropological expedition to torres straits_, v. _sq._ [ ] a.l. kroeber, "the religion of the indians of california," _university of california publications in american archaeology and ethnology_, vol. iv. no. (september, ), p. . [ ] roland b. dixon, "the northern maidu," _bulletin of the american museum of natural history_, vol. xvii. part iii. (may ) pp. _sq._, compare pp. - . [ ] stephen powers, _tribes of california_ (washington, ), p. (_contributions to north american ethnology_, vol. iii.). [ ] stephen powers, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] charles wilkes, _narrative of the united states exploring expedition_, new edition (new york, ), iv. . [ ] franz boas, _chinook texts_ (washington, ), pp. _sq._ the account, taken down from the lips of a chinook indian, is not perfectly clear; some of the restrictions were prolonged after the girl's second monthly period. [ ] g.m. sproat, _scenes and studies of savage life_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] franz boas, in _sixth report on the north-western tribes of canada_, pp. - (separate reprint from the _report of the british association for the advancement of science_, leeds meeting, ). the rule not to lie down is observed also during their seclusion at puberty by tsimshian girls, who always sit propped up between boxes and mats; their heads are covered with small mats, and they may not look at men nor at fresh salmon and olachen. see franz boas, in _fifth report on the north-western tribes of canada_, p. (separate reprint from the _report of the british association for the advancement of science_, newcastle-upon-tyne meeting, ); g.m. dawson, _report on the queen charlotte islands, _ (montreal, ), pp. b _sq._ some divine kings are not allowed to lie down. see _taboo and the perils of the soul_, p. . [ ] george m. dawson, _report on the queen charlotte islands, _ (montreal, ), p. b; j.r. swanton, _contributions to the ethnology of the haida_ (leyden and new york, ), pp. - (_the jesup north pacific expedition, memoir of the american museum of natural history_, new york). speaking of the customs observed at kloo, where the girls had to abstain from salmon for five years, mr. swanton says (p. ): "when five years had passed, the girl came out, and could do as she pleased." this seems to imply that the girl was secluded in the house for five years. we have seen (above, p. ) that in new ireland the girls used sometimes to be secluded for the same period. [ ] g.h. von langsdorff, _reise um die welt_ (frankfort, ), ii. _sq._; h.j. holmberg, "ethnographische skizzen über die völker des russischen amerika," _acta societatis scientiarum fennicae_, iv. (helsingfors, ) pp. _sq._; t. de pauly, _description ethnographique des peuples de la russie_ (st. petersburg, ), _peuples de l'amérique russe_, p. ; a. erman, "ethnographische wahrnehmungen und erfahrungen an den küsten des berings-meeres," _zeitschrift für ethnologie_, ii. ( ) pp. _sq._; h.h. bancroft, _native races of the pacific states_ (london, - ), i. _sq._; rev. sheldon jackson, "alaska and its inhabitants," _the american antiquarian_, ii. (chicago, - ) pp. _sq._; a. woldt, _captain jacobsen's reise an der nordwestkiiste americas, - _ (leipsic, ), p. ; aurel krause, _die tlinkit-indianer_ (jena, ), pp. _sq._; w.m. grant, in _journal of american folk-lore_, i. ( ) p. ; john r. swanton, "social conditions, beliefs, and linguistic relationship of the tlingit indians," _twenty-sixth annual report of the bureau of american ethnology_ (washington, ), p. . [ ] franz boas, in _tenth report of the committee on the north-western tribes of canada_, p. (separate reprint from the _report of the british association for the advancement of science_, ipswich meeting, ). [ ] franz boas, in _fifth report of the committee on the north-western tribes of canada_, p. (separate reprint from the _report of the british association for the advancement of science_, newcastle-upon-tyne meeting, ); _id._, in _seventh report_, etc., p. (separate reprint from the _report of the british association for the advancement of science_, cardiff meeting, ). [ ] "customs of the new caledonian women belonging to the nancaushy tine, or stuart's lake indians, natotin tine, or babine's and nantley tine, or fraser lake tribes," from information supplied by gavin hamilton, chief factor of the hudson's bay company's service, who has been for many years among these indians, both he and his wife speaking their languages fluently (communicated by dr. john rae), _journal of the anthropological institute_, vii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] Émile petitot, _traditions indiennes du canada nord-ouest_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] fr. julius jetté, s.j., "on the superstitions of the ten'a indians," _anthropos_, vi. ( ) pp. - . [ ] compare _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, i. _sqq._ [ ] james teit, _the thompson indians of british columbia_, pp. - (_the jesup north pacific expedition, memoir of the american museum of natural history_, new york, april, ). as to the customs observed among these indians by the father of a girl at such times in order not to lose his luck in hunting, see _spirits of the corn and of the wild_, ii. . [ ] james teit, _the lillooet indians_ (leyden and new york, ), pp. - (_the jesup north pacific expedition, memoir of the american museum of natural history_, new york). compare c. hill tout, "report on the ethnology of the stlatlumh of british columbia," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxxv. ( ) p. . [ ] franz boas, in _sixth report of the committee on the north-western tribes of canada_, pp. _sq_. (separate reprint from the _report of the british association for the advancement of science_, leeds meeting, ). [ ] james teit, _the shuswap_ (leyden and new york, ), pp. _sq._ (_the jesup north pacific expedition, memoir of the american museum of natural history_, new york). [ ] g.h. loskiel, _history of the mission of the united brethren among the indians of north america_ (london, ), part i. pp. _sq_. [ ] g.b. grinnell, "cheyenne woman customs," _american anthropologist_, new series, iv. (new york, ) pp. _sq_. the cheyennes appear to have been at first settled on the mississippi, from which they were driven westward to the missouri. see _handbook of american indians north of mexico_, edited by f.w. hodge (washington, - ), i. _sqq_. [ ] h.j. holmberg, "ueber die völker des russischen amerika," _acta societatis scientiarum fennicae_, iv. (helsingfors, ) pp. _sq._; ivan petroff, _report on the population, industries and resources of alaska_, p. . [ ] e.w. nelson, "the eskimo about bering strait," _eighteenth annual report of the bureau of american ethnology_, part i. (washington, ) p. . [ ] jose guevara, "historia del paraguay, rio de la plata, y tucuman," pp. _sq._, in pedro de angelis, _coleccion de obras y documentos relativos a la historia antigua y moderna de las provincias del rio de la plata_, vol. ii. (buenos-ayres, ); j.f. lafitau, _moeurs des sauvages ameriquains_ (paris, ), i. _sq._ [ ] father ignace chomé, in _lettres Édifiantes et curieuses_, nouvelle edition (paris, - ), viii. . as to the chiriguanos, see c.f. phil. von martius, _zur ethnographie amerika's, zumal brasiliens_ (leipsic, ), pp. _sqq._; colonel g.e. church, _aborigines of south america_ (london, ), pp. - . [ ] a. thouar, _explorations dans l'amérique du sud_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._; g. kurze, "sitten und gebräuche der lengua-indianer," _mitteilungen der geographischen gesellschaft zu jena_, xxiii. ( ) pp. _sq._ the two accounts appear to be identical; but the former attributes the custom to the chiriguanos, the latter to the lenguas. as the latter account is based on the reports of the rev. w.b. grubb, a missionary who has been settled among the indians of the chaco for many years and is our principal authority on them, i assume that the ascription of the custom to the lenguas is correct. however, in the volume on the lengua indians, which has been edited from mr. grubb's papers (_an unknown people in an unknown land_, london, ), these details as to the seclusion of girls at puberty are not mentioned, though what seems to be the final ceremony is described (_op. cit._ pp. _sq._). from the description we learn that boys dressed in ostrich feathers and wearing masks circle round the girl with shrill cries, but are repelled by the women. [ ] alcide d'orbigny, _voyage dans l'amérique méridionale_ vol. iii. to partie (paris and strasburg, ), pp. _sq_. [ ] a. thouar, _explorations dans l'amérique du sud_ (paris, ) pp. _sq._; father cardus, quoted in j. pelleschi's _los indios matacos_ (buenos ayres, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] a. thouar, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] francis de castelnau, _expédition dans les parties centrales de l'amérique du sud_ (paris, - ), v. . [ ] d. luis de la cruz, "descripcion de la naturaleza de los terrenos que se comprenden en los andes, poseidos por los peguenches y los demas espacios hasta el rio de chadileuba," p. , in pedro de angelis, _coleccion de obras y documentos relativos a la historia antigua y moderna de las provincias del rio de la plata_, vol. i. (buenos-ayres, ). apparently the peguenches are an indian tribe of chili. [ ] j.b. von spix und c.f. ph. von martius, _reise in brasilien_ (munich, - ), iii. , , . [ ] andré thevet, _cosmographie universelle_ (paris, ), ii. b [ ] _sq._; _id., les singularites de la france antarctique, autrement nommée amerique_ (antwerp, ), p. ; j.f. lafitau, _moeurs des sauvages ameriquains_ (paris, ), i. _sqq_. [ ] r. schomburgk, _reisen in britisch guiana_ (leipsic, - ), ii. _sq._; c.f.ph. von martius, _zur ethnographie amerika's, zumal brasiliens_ (leipsic, ), p. . [ ] labat, _voyage du chevalier des marchais en guinée, isles voisines, et à cayenne_, iv. _sq._ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ (amsterdam, ). [ ] a. caulin, _historia coro-graphica natural y evangelica dela nueva andalucia_ ( ), p. . a similar custom, with the omission of the stinging, is reported of the tamanaks in the region of the orinoco. see f.s. gilij, _saggio di storia americana_, ii. (rome, ), p. . [ ] a.r. wallace, _narrative of travels on the amazon and rio negro_, p. (p. of the minerva library edition, london, ). [ ] _taboo and the perils of the soul_, pp. _sqq._; _the scapegoat_> pp. _sqq._ [ ] j.b. von spix and c.f.ph. von martius, _reise in brasilien_ (munich, - ), iii. . [ ] w. lewis herndon, _exploration of the valley of the amazon_ (washington, ), pp. _sq._ the scene was described to mr. herndon by a french engineer and architect, m. de lincourt, who witnessed it at manduassu, a village on the tapajos river. mr. herndon adds: "the _tocandeira_ ants not only bite, but are also armed with a sting like the wasp; but the pain felt from it is more violent. i think it equal to that occasioned by the sting of the black scorpion." he gives the name of the indians as mahues, but i assume that they are the same as the mauhes described by spix and martius. [ ] francis de castelnau, _expédition dans les parties centrals de l'amérique du sud_ (paris, - ), v. . [ ] l'abbé durand, "le rio negro du nord et son bassin," _bulletin de la société de géographie_ (paris), vi. série, iii. ( ) pp. _sq._ the writer says that the candidate has to keep his arms plunged up to the shoulders in vessels full of ants, "as in a bath of vitriol," for hours. he gives the native name of the ant as _issauba_. [ ] j. crevaux, _voyages dans l'amérique du sud_ (paris, ), pp. - . [ ] h. coudreau, _chez nos indiens: quatre années dans la guyane française_ (paris, ), p. . for details as to the different modes of administering the _maraké_ see _ibid._ pp. - . [ ] father geronimo boscana, "chinigchinich," in _life in california by an american_ [a. robinson] (new york, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] f. stuhlmann, _mit emin pascha ins herz von afrika_ (berlin, ), p. . [ ] as a confirmation of this view it may be pointed out that beating or scourging is inflicted on inanimate objects expressly for the purpose indicated in the text. thus the indians of costa rica hold that there are two kinds of ceremonial uncleanness, _nya_ and _bu-ku-rú_. anything that has been connected with a death is _nya_. but _bu-ku-rú_ is much more virulent. it can not only make one sick but kill. "_bu-ku-rú_ emanates in a variety of ways; arms, utensils, even houses become affected by it after long disuse, and before they can be used again must be purified. in the case of portable objects left undisturbed for a long time, the custom is to beat them with a stick before touching them. i have seen a woman take a long walking-stick and beat a basket hanging from the roof of a house by a cord. on asking what that was for, i was told that the basket contained her treasures, that she would probably want to take something out the next day, and that she was driving off the _bu-ku-rú_. a house long unused must be swept, and then the person who is purifying it must take a stick and beat not only the movable objects, but the beds, posts, and in short every accessible part of the interior. the next day it is fit for occupation. a place not visited for a long time or reached for the first time is _bu-ku-rú_. on our return from the ascent of pico blanco, nearly all the party suffered from little calenturas, the result of extraordinary exposure to wet and cold and of want of food. the indians said that the peak was especially _bu-ku-rú_ since nobody had ever been on it before." one day mr. gabb took down some dusty blow-guns amid cries of _bu-ku-rú_ from the indians. some weeks afterwards a boy died, and the indians firmly believed that the _bu-ku-rú_ of the blow-guns had killed him. "from all the foregoing, it would seem that _bu-ku-rú_ is a sort of evil spirit that takes possession of the object, and resents being disturbed; but i have never been able to learn from the indians that they consider it so. they seem to think of it as a property the object acquires. but the worst _bu-ku-rú_ of all, is that of a young woman in her first pregnancy. she infects the whole neighbourhood. persons going from the house where she lives, carry the infection with them to a distance, and all the deaths or other serious misfortunes in the vicinity are laid to her charge. in the old times, when the savage laws and customs were in full force, it was not an uncommon thing for the husband of such a woman to pay damages for casualties thus caused by his unfortunate wife." see wm. m. gabb, "on the indian tribes and languages of costa rica," _proceedings of the american philosophical society held at philadelphia_, xiv. (philadelphia, ) pp. _sq._ [ ] j. chaffanjon, _l'orénoque et le caura_ (paris, ), pp. - . [ ] shib chunder bose, _the hindoos as they are_ (london and calcutta, ), p. . similarly, after a brahman boy has been invested with the sacred thread, he is for three days strictly forbidden to see the sun. he may not eat salt, and he is enjoined to sleep either on a carpet or a deer's skin, without a mattress or mosquito curtain (_ibid._ p. ). in bali, boys who have had their teeth filed, as a preliminary to marriage, are kept shut up in a dark room for three days (r. van eck, "schetsen van het eiland bali," _tijdschrift voor nederlandsch indië_, n.s., ix. ( ) pp. _sq._). [ ] (sir) h.h. risley, _tribes and castes of bengal, ethnographic glossary_ (calcutta, - ), i. . [ ] edgar thurston, _castes and tribes of southern india_ (madras, ), vii. _sq._ [ ] edgar thurston, _op. cit._ iii. . [ ] edgar thurston, _op. cit._ vi. . [ ] s. mateer, _native life in travancore_ (london, ), p. . [ ] arthur a. perera, "glimpses of singhalese social life," _indian antiquary_ xxxi, ( ) p. . [ ] j. moura, _le royaume du cambodge_ (paris, ), i. . [ ] Étienne aymonier, "notes sur les coutumes et croyances superstitieuses des cambodgiens," _cochinchine française: excursions et reconnaissances_, no. (saigon, ), pp. _sq._ compare _id., notice sur le cambodge_ (paris, ), p. _id., notes sur le laos_ (saigon, ), p. . [ ] svend grundtvig, _dänische volks-märchen_, übersetzt von a. strodtmann, zweite sammlung (leipsic, ), pp. _sqq._ [ ] christian schneller, _märchen und sagen aus wälschtirol_ (innsbruck, ), no. , pp. _sqq._ [ ] bernbard schmidt, _griechische märchen, sagen und volkslieder_ (leipsic, ), p. . [ ] j.g. von hahn, _griechische und albanesische märchen_ (leipsic, ), no. , vol. i. pp. _sqq._ [ ] laura gonzenbach, _sicilianische märchen_ (leipsic, ), no. , vol. i. pp. _sqq._ the incident of the bone occurs in other folk-tales. a prince or princess is shut up for safety in a tower and makes his or her escape by scraping a hole in the wall with a bone which has been accidentally conveyed into the tower; sometimes it is expressly said that care was taken to let the princess have no bones with her meat (j.g. von hahn, _op. cit._ no. ; l. gonzenbach, _op. cit._ nos. , ; _der pentamerone, aus dem neapolitanischen übertragen_ von felix liebrecht (breslau, ), no. , vol. i. pp. _sqq._). from this we should infer that it is a rule with savages not to let women handle the bones of animals during their monthly seclusions. we have already seen the great respect with which the savage treats the bones of game (_spirits of the corn and of the wild_ ii. _sqq._, _sqq._); and women in their courses are specially forbidden to meddle with the hunter or fisher, as their contact or neighbourhood would spoil his sport (see below, pp. , _sq._, , _sqq._). in folk-tales the hero who uses the bone is sometimes a boy; but the incident might easily be transferred from a girl to a boy after its real meaning had been forgotten. amongst the tinneh indians a girl at puberty is forbidden to break the bones of hares (above, p. ). on the other hand, she drinks out of a tube made of a swan's bone (above, pp. , ), and the same instrument is used for the same purpose by girls of the carrier tribe of indians (see below, p. ). we have seen that a tlingit (thlinkeet) girl in the same circumstances used to drink out of the wing-bone of a white-headed eagle (above, p. ), and that among the nootka and shuswap tribes girls at puberty are provided with bones or combs with which to scratch themselves, because they may not use their fingers for this purpose (above, pp. , ). [ ] sophocles, _antigone_, _sqq._; apollodorus, _bibliotheca_, ii. . i; horace, _odes_, iii. . i _sqq._; pausanias, ii. . . [ ] w. radloff, _proben der volks-litteratur der türkischen stämme süd-siberiens,_ iii. (st. petersburg, ) pp. _sq._ [ ] h. ternaux-compans, _essai sur l'ancien cundinamarca_ (paris, n.d.), p. . [ ] george turner, ll.d., _samoa, a hundred years ago and long before_ (london, ), p. . for other examples of such tales, see adolph bastian, _die voelker des oestlichen asien_, i. , vi. ; _panjab notes and queries_, ii. p. , § (june, ); a. pfizmaier, "nachrichten von den alten bewohnern des heutigen corea," _sitzungsberichte der philosoph. histor. classe der kaiser. akademie der wissenschaften_ (vienna), lvii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] thomas j. hutchinson, "on the chaco and other indians of south america," _transactions of the ethnological society of london_, n.s. iii. ( ) p. . amongst the lengua indians of the paraguayan chaco the marriage feast is now apparently extinct. see w. barbrooke grubb, _an unknown people in an unknown land_ (london, ), p. . [ ] monier williams, _religious thought and life in india_ (london, ), p. . [ ] h. vambery, _das türkenvolk_ (leipsic, ), p. . [ ] hans egede, _a description of greenland_ (london, ), p. . [ ] _revue des traditions populaires_, xv. ( ) p. . [ ] _taboo and the perils of the soul_, pp. _sqq._ [ ] h.e.a. meyer, "manners and customs of the aborigines of the encounter bay tribe, south australia," _the native tribes of south australia_ (adelaide, ), p. . [ ] e.j. eyre, _journals of expeditions of discovery into central australia_ (london, ), ii. . [ ] e.j. eyre, _op. cit._ ii. . [ ] r. brough smyth, _the aborigines of victoria_ (melbourne and london, ), i. . [ ] samuel gason, in _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxiv. ( ) p. . [ ] baldwin spencer and f.j. gillen, _native tribes of central australia_ (london, ), p. ; _idem, northern tribes of central australia_ (london, ), p. . [ ] james dawson, _australian aborigines_ (melbourne, sydney, and adelaide, ), pp. ci. _sq._ [ ] rev. william ridley, "report on australian languages and traditions," _journal of the anthropological institute_, ii. ( ) p. . compare _id., kamilaroi and other australian languages_ (sydney, ), p. . [ ] a.w. howitt, _the native tribes of south-east australia_ (london, .), pp. _sq._, on the authority of mr. j.c. muirhead. the wakelbura are in central queensland. compare captain w.e. armit, quoted in _journal of the anthropological institute_, ix. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] _reports of the cambridge anthropological expedition to torres straits_, v. (cambridge, ) pp. , . [ ] ch. keysser, "aus dem leben der kaileute," in r. neuhauss's _deutsch neu-guinea_ (berlin, ), iii. . [ ] m.j. van baarda, "fabelen, verhalen en overleveringen der galelareezen," _bijdragen tot de taal-landen volkenkinde van nederlandsch-indië_, xlv. ( ) p. . [ ] j.l. van der toorn, "het animisme bij den minangkabauer der padangsche bovenlanden," _bijdragen tot de taal-land- en volkenkunde van nederlandsch-indië_, xxxix. ( ) p. . [ ] w.h.i. bleek, _a brief account of bushman folk-lore_ (london, ), p. ; compare _ibid._, p. . [ ] rev. james macdonald, "manners, customs, superstitions and religions of south african tribes," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xx. ( ) p. ; _id., light in africa_, second edition (london, ), p. . [ ] dudley kidd, _the essential kafir_ (london, ), p. ; mr. warren's notes, in col. maclean's _compendium of kafir laws and customs_ (cape town, ), p. ; rev. j. macdonald, _light in africa_, p. ; _id., religion and myth_ (london, ), p. . compare henri a. junod, "les conceptions physiologiques des bantou sud-africains et leurs tabous," _revue d'ethnographie et de sociologie_, i. ( ) p. . the danger of death to the cattle from the blood of women is mentioned only by mr. kidd. the part of the village which is frequented by the cattle, and which accordingly must be shunned by women, has a special name, _inkundhla_ (mr. warner's notes, _l.c._). [ ] rev. j. roscoe, "the bahima, a cow tribe of enkole," _journal of the royal anthropological institute_, xxxvii. ( ) p. . [ ] rev. j. roscoe, _the baganda_ (london, ), p. . [ ] rev. j. roscoe, _the baganda_, p. . [ ] rev. j. roscoe, "notes on the manners and customs of the baganda," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxxi. ( ) p. ; _id._, "further notes on the manners and customs of the baganda," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxxii. ( ) p. ; _id., the baganda_, p. . [ ] rev. j. roscoe, _the baganda_, p. . [ ] c.w. hobley, "further researches into kikuyu and kamba religious beliefs and customs," _journal of the royal anthropological institute_, xli. ( ) p. . [ ] mervyn w.h. beech, _the suk, their language and folklore_ (oxford, ), p. . [ ] h.s. stannus, "notes on some tribes of british central africa," _journal of the royal anthropological institute_, xl. ( ) p. ; r. sutherland rattray, _some folk-lore stories and songs in chinyanja_ (london, ), p. . see above, p. . [ ] jakob spieth, _die ewe-stämme_ (berlin, ), p. . [ ] anton witte, "menstruation und pubertätsfeier der mädchen in kpandugebiet togo," _baessler-archiv_, i. ( ) p. . [ ] th. nöldeke, _geschichte der perser und araber zur zeit der sassaniden, aus der arabischen chronik des tabari übersetzt_ (leyden, ), pp. - . i have to thank my friend professor a.a. bevan for pointing out to me this passage. many ancient cities had talismans on the preservation of which their safety was believed to depend. the palladium of troy is the most familiar instance. see chr. a. lobeck, _aglaophamus_ (königsberg, ), pp. _sqq._, and my note on pausanias, viii. . (vol. iv. pp. _sq._). [ ] j. mergel, _die medezin der talmudisten_ (leipsic and berlin, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] maimonides, quoted by d. chwolsohn, _die ssabier und der ssabismus_ (st. petersburg, ), ii. . according to the editor (p. ) by the east maimonides means india and eastern countries generally. [ ] l'abbé béchara chémali, "naissance et premier âge au liban," _anthropos_, v. ( ) p. . [ ] eijub abela, "beiträge zur kenntniss abergläubischer gebräuche in syrien," _zeitschrift des deutschen palaestina-vereins_, vii. ( ) p. . [ ] j. chalmers, "toaripi," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxvii. ( ) p. . [ ] w. crooke, _tribes and castes of the north-western provinces and qudh_ (calcutta, ), ii. . [ ] w. crooke, in _north indian notes and queries_, i. p. , § (july, ). [ ] l.k. anantha krishna iyer, _the cochin tribes and castes_, i. (madras, ) pp. - . as to the seclusion of menstruous women among the hindoos, see also sonnerat, _voyage aux indes orientates et à la chine_ (paris, ), i. ; j.a. dubois, _moeurs, institutions et cérémonies des peuples de l'inde_ (paris, ), i. _sq._ nair women in malabar seclude themselves for three days at menstruation and prepare their food in separate pots and pans. see duarte barbosa, _description of the coasts of east africa and malabar in the beginning of the sixteenth century_ (hakluyt society, london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] g. hoffman, _auszüge aus syrischen akten persisischer martyrer übersetzt_ (leipsic, ), p. . this passage was pointed out to me by my friend professor a.a. bevan. [ ] j.b. tavernier, _voyages en turquie, en perse, et aux indes_ (the hague, ), i. . [ ] paul giran, _magie et religion annamites_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._, . [ ] joseph gumilla, _histoire naturelle, civile, et géographique de l'orenoque_ (avignon, ), i. . [ ] dr. louis plassard, "les guaraunos et le delta de l'orénoque," _bulletin de la société de géographie_ (paris), v. série, xv. ( ) p. . [ ] j. crevaux, _voyages dans l'amérique du sud_ (paris, ), p. . as to the customs observed at menstruation by indian women in south america, see further a. d'orbigny, _l'homme americain_ (paris, ), i. . [ ] chas. n. bell, "the mosquito territory," _journal of the royal geographical society_, xxxii. ( ) p. . [ ] h. pittier de fabrega, "die sprache der bribri-indianer in costa rica," _sitztungsberichte der philosophischen-historischen classe der kaiserlichen akademie der wissenschaften_ (vienna), cxxxviii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] gabriel sagard, _le grand voyage du pays des hurons_, nouvelle Édition (paris, ), p. (original edition, paris, ); j.f. lafitau, _moeurs des sauvages ameriquains_ (paris, ), i. ; charlevoix, _histoire de la nouvelle france_ (paris, ), v. _sq._; captain jonathan carver, _travels through the interior parts of north america_, third edition (london, ), pp. _sq._; captains lewis and clark, _expedition to the sources of the missouri_, etc. (london, ), iii. (original edition, ); rev. jedidiah morse, _report to the secretary of war of the united states on indian affairs_ (new haven, ), pp. _sq._; _annales de l'association de la propagation de la foi_, iv, (paris and lyons, ) pp. , _sq._; george catlin, _letters and notes on the manners, customs, and condition of the north american indians_, fourth edition (london, ), ii. ; h.r. schoolcraft, _indian tribes of the united states_ (philadelphia, - ), v. ; a.l. kroeber, "the religion of the indians of california," _university of california publication in american archaeology and ethnology_, vol. iv. no. (berkeley, september, ), pp. _sq._; frank g. speck, _ethnology of the yuchi indians_ (philadelphia, ), p. . among the hurons of canada women at their periods did not retire from the house or village, but they ate from small dishes apart from the rest of the family at these times (gabriel sagard, _l.c._). [ ] james adair, _history of the american indians_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] bossu, _nouveaux voyages aux indes occidentales_ (paris, ), ii. . [ ] edwin james, _account of an expedition from pittsburgh to the rocky mountains_ (london, ), i. . [ ] william h. keating, _narrative of an expedition to the source of st. peter's river_ (london, ), i. . [ ] g.b. grinnell, "cheyenne woman customs," _american anthropologist_, new series, iv. (new york, ) p. . [ ] c. hill tout, "ethnological report on the stseelis and skaulits tribes of the halokmelem division of the salish of british columbia," _journal of the anthropological institute_, xxxiv. ( ) p. . [ ] james teit, _the thompson indians of british columbia_, pp. _sq._ (_the jesup north pacific expedition, memoir of the american museum of natural history_, new york, april, ). [ ] samuel hearne, _journey from prince of wales's fort in hudson's bay to the northern ocean_ (london, ), pp. _sq._; alex. mackenzie, _voyages through the continent of north america_ (london, ), p. cxxiii.; e. petitot, _monographic des déné-dindjié_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] c. leemius, _de lapponibus finmarchiae eorumque lingua vita et religione pristina_ (copenhagen, ), p. . [ ] e.w. nelson, "the eskimo about bering strait," _eighteenth annual report of the bureau of american ethnology_, part i. (washington, ) p. . [ ] the carriers are a tribe of déné or tinneh indians who get their name from a custom observed among them by widows, who carry, or rather used to carry, the charred bones of their dead husbands about with them in bundles. [ ] hence we may conjecture that the similar ornaments worn by mabuiag girls in similar circumstances are also amulets. see above, p. . among the aborigines of the upper yarra river in victoria, a girl at puberty used to have cords tied very tightly round several parts of her body. the cords were worn for several days, causing the whole body to swell very much and inflicting great pain. the girl might not remove them till she was clean. see r. brough smyth, _aborigines of victoria_ (melbourne and london, ), i. . perhaps the cords were intended to arrest the flow of blood. [ ] rev. father a.g. morice, "the western dénés, their manners and customs," _proceedings of the canadian institute, toronto_, third series, vii. ( - ) pp. - . the writer has repeated the substance of this account in a later work, _au pays de l'ours noir: chez les sauvages de la colombia britannique_ (paris and lyons, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] a.g. morice, "notes, archaeological, industrial, and sociological, on the western dénés," _transactions of the canadian institute_, iv. ( - ) pp. _sq._ compare rev. father julius jetté, "on the superstitions of the ten'a indians," _anthropos_, vi. ( ) pp. _sq._, who tells us that tinneh women at these times may not lift their own nets, may not step over other people's nets, and may not pass in a boat or canoe near a place where nets are being set. [ ] a.g. morice, in _transactions of the canadian institute_, iv. ( - ) pp. , . [ ] james teit, _the thompson indians of british columbia_, p. (_the jesup north pacific expedition, memoir of the american museum of natural history_, new york, april ). [ ] see above, p. . [ ] _laws of manu_, translated by g. buhler (oxford, ), ch. iv. _sq._, p. (_sacred books of the east_, vol. xxv.). [ ] _the zend-avesta_, translated by j. darmesteter, i. (oxford, ) p. xcii. (_sacred books of the east_, vol. iv.). see _id._, pp. , - , _fargard_, i. and , xvi. - . [ ] pliny, _nat. hist._ vii. _sq._, xxviii. _sqq._ compare _geoponica_, xii. . and . ; columella, _de re rustica_, xi. _sqq._ [ ] august schleicher, _volkstümliches aus sonnenberg_ (weimar, ), p. ; b. souché, _croyances, présages et traditions diverses_ (niort, ), p. ; a. meyrac, _traditions, coutumes légendes et contes des ardennes_ (charleville, ), p. ; v. fossel, _volksmedicin und medicinischer aberglaube in steiermark[ ]_ (graz, ), p. . a correspondent, who withholds her name, writes to me that in a suffolk village, where she used to live some twenty or thirty years ago, "every one pickled their own beef, and it was held that if the pickling were performed by a woman during her menstrual period the meat would not keep. if the cook were incapacitated at the time when the pickling was due, another woman was sent for out of the village rather than risk what was considered a certainty." another correspondent informs me that in some of the dales in the north of yorkshire a similar belief prevailed down to recent years with regard to the salting of pork. another correspondent writes to me: "the prohibition that a menstruating woman must not touch meat that is intended for keeping appears to be common all over the country; at least i have met with it as a confirmed and active custom in widely separated parts of england.... it is in regard to the salting of meat for bacon that the prohibition is most usual, because that is the commonest process; but it exists in regard to any meat food that is required to be kept." [ ] r. andree, _braunschweiger volkskunde_ (brunswick, ), p. . [ ] w.r. paton, in _folk-lore_, i. ( ) p. . [ ] the greeks and romans thought that a field was completely protected against insects if a menstruous woman walked round it with bare feet and streaming hair (pliny, _nat. hist._ xvii. , xxviii. ; columella, _de re rustica_, x. _sq._, xi. . ; palladius, _de re rustica_, i. . ; _geoponica_, xii. . _sq._; aelian, _nat. anim._ vi. ). a similar preventive is employed for the same purpose by north american indians and european peasants. see h.r. schoolcraft, _indian tribes of the united states_ (philadelphia, - ), v. ; f.j. wiedemann, _aus dem inneren und aüssern leben der ehsten_ (st. petersburg, ), p. . compare j. haltrich, _zur volkskunde der siebenbürger sachsen_ (vienna, ), p. ; adolph heinrich, _agrarische sitten und gebräuche unter den sachsen siebenbürgens_ (hermannstadt, ), p. ; j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] iii. ; g. lammert, _volksmedizin und medizinischer aberglaube aus bayern_ (würzburg, ), p. . among the western dénés it is believed that one or two transverse lines tattooed on the arms or legs of a young man by a pubescent girl are a specific against premature weakness of these limbs. see a.g. morice, "notes, archaeological, industrial, and sociological, on the western dénés," _transactions of the canadian institute_, iv. ( - ) p. . the thompson indians of british columbia thought that the dawn of day could and would cure hernia if only an adolescent girl prayed to it to do so. just before daybreak the girl would put some charcoal in her mouth, chew it fine, and spit it out four times on the diseased place. then she prayed: "o day-dawn! thy child relies on me to obtain healing from thee, who art mystery. remove thou the swelling of thy child. pity thou him, day-dawn!" see james teit, _the thompson indians of british columbia_, pp. _sq._ (_the jesup north pacific expedition, memoir of the american museum of natural history_, new york, april, ). to cure the painful and dangerous wound inflicted by a ray-fish, the indians of the gran chaco smoke the wounded limb and then cause a woman in her courses to sit astride of it. see g. pelleschi, _eight months on the gran chaco of the argentine republic_ (london, ), p. . an ancient hindoo method of securing prosperity was to swallow a portion of the menstruous fluid. see w. caland, _altindisches zauberritual_ (amsterdam, ), pp. _sq._ to preserve a new cow from the evil eye scottish highlanders used to sprinkle menstruous blood on the animal; and at certain seasons of the year, especially at beltane (the first of may) and lammas (the first of august) it was their custom to sprinkle the same potent liquid on the doorposts and houses all round to guard them from harm. the fluid was applied by means of a wisp of straw, and the person who discharged this salutary office went round the house in the direction of the sun. see j.g. campbell, _superstitions of the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), p. . these are examples of the beneficent application of the menstruous energy. [ ] _taboo and the perils of the soul_, pp. _sqq._ [ ] for a similar reason, perhaps, ancient hindoo ritual prescribed that when the hair of a child's head was shorn in the third year, the clippings should be buried in a cow-stable, or near an _udumbara_ tree, or in a clump of _darbha_ grass, with the words, "where pushan, brihaspati, savitri, soma, agni dwell, they have in many ways searched where they should deposit it, between heaven and earth, the waters and heaven." see _the grihya-sûtras_, translated by h. oldenberg, part ii. (oxford, ) p. (_sacred books of the east_, vol. xxx.). [ ] petronius, _sat._ ; pausanias, x. : ; justin martyr, _cohort ad graecos_, , p. c (ed. ). according to another account, the remains of the sibyl were enclosed in an iron cage which hung from a pillar in an ancient temple of hercules at argyrus (ampelius, _liber memorialis_, viii. ). [ ] a. kuhn und w. schwartz, _nord-deutsche sagen, märchen und gebräuche_ (leipsic, ), p. , no. . i. this and the following german parallels to the story of the sibyl's wish were first indicated by dr. m.r. james (_classical review_, vi. ( ) p. ). i have already given the stories at length in a note on pausanias, x. . (vol. v. pp. _sq._). [ ] a. kuhn und w. schwartz, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._, no. . . [ ] a. kuhn und w. schwartz, _op. cit._ p. , no. . . [ ] karl müllenhoff, _sagen, märchen und lieder der herzogthümer holstein und lauenburg_ (kiel, ), pp. _sg._, no. . chapter iii the myth of balder [how balder, the good and beautiful god, was done to death by a stroke of the mistletoe.] a deity whose life might in a sense be said to be neither in heaven nor on earth but between the two, was the norse balder, the good and beautiful god, the son of the great god odin, and himself the wisest, mildest, best beloved of all the immortals. the story of his death, as it is told in the younger or prose _edda_, runs thus. once on a time balder dreamed heavy dreams which seemed to forebode his death. thereupon the gods held a council and resolved to make him secure against every danger. so the goddess frigg took an oath from fire and water, iron and all metals, stones and earth, from trees, sicknesses and poisons, and from all four-footed beasts, birds, and creeping things, that they would not hurt balder. when this was done balder was deemed invulnerable; so the gods amused themselves by setting him in their midst, while some shot at him, others hewed at him, and others threw stones at him. but whatever they did, nothing could hurt him; and at this they were all glad. only loki, the mischief-maker, was displeased, and he went in the guise of an old woman to frigg, who told him that the weapons of the gods could not wound balder, since she had made them all swear not to hurt him. then loki asked, "have all things sworn to spare balder?" she answered, "east of walhalla grows a plant called mistletoe; it seemed to me too young to swear." so loki went and pulled the mistletoe and took it to the assembly of the gods. there he found the blind god hother standing at the outside of the circle. loki asked him, "why do you not shoot at balder?" hother answered, "because i do not see where he stands; besides i have no weapon." then said loki, "do like the rest and shew balder honour, as they all do. i will shew you where he stands, and do you shoot at him with this twig." hother took the mistletoe and threw it at balder, as loki directed him. the mistletoe struck balder and pierced him through and through, and he fell down dead. and that was the greatest misfortune that ever befell gods and men. for a while the gods stood speechless, then they lifted up their voices and wept bitterly. they took balder's body and brought it to the sea-shore. there stood balder's ship; it was called ringhorn, and was the hugest of all ships. the gods wished to launch the ship and to burn balder's body on it, but the ship would not stir. so they sent for a giantess called hyrrockin. she came riding on a wolf and gave the ship such a push that fire flashed from the rollers and all the earth shook. then balder's body was taken and placed on the funeral pile upon his ship. when his wife nanna saw that, her heart burst for sorrow and she died. so she was laid on the funeral pile with her husband, and fire was put to it. balder's horse, too, with all its trappings, was burned on the pile.[ ] [tale of balder in the older _edda_.] in the older or poetic _edda_ the tragic tale of balder is hinted at rather than told at length. among the visions which the norse sibyl sees and describes in the weird prophecy known as the _voluspa_ is one of the fatal mistletoe. "i behold," says she, "fate looming for balder, woden's son, the bloody victim. there stands the mistletoe slender and delicate, blooming high above the ground. out of this shoot, so slender to look on, there shall grow a harmful fateful shaft. hod shall shoot it, but frigga in fen-hall shall weep over the woe of wal-hall."[ ] yet looking far into the future the sibyl sees a brighter vision of a new heaven and a new earth, where the fields unsown shall yield their increase and all sorrows shall be healed; then balder will come back to dwell in odin's mansions of bliss, in a hall brighter than the sun, shingled with gold, where the righteous shall live in joy for ever more.[ ] [the story of balder as related by saxo grammaticus.] writing about the end of the twelfth century, the old danish historian saxo grammaticus tells the story of balder in a form which professes to be historical. according to him, balder and hother were rival suitors for the hand of nanna, daughter of gewar, king of norway. now balder was a demigod and common steel could not wound his sacred body. the two rivals encountered each other in a terrific battle, and though odin and thor and the rest of the gods fought for balder, yet was he defeated and fled away, and hother married the princess. nevertheless balder took heart of grace and again met hother in a stricken field. but he fared even worse than before; for hother dealt him a deadly wound with a magic sword, which he had received from miming, the satyr of the woods; and after lingering three days in pain balder died of his hurt and was buried with royal honours in a barrow.[ ] [balder worshipped in norway.] whether he was a real or merely a mythical personage, balder was worshipped in norway. on one of the bays of the beautiful sogne fiord, which penetrates far into the depths of the solemn norwegian mountains, with their sombre pine-forests and their lofty cascades dissolving into spray before they reach the dark water of the fiord far below, balder had a great sanctuary. it was called balder's grove. a palisade enclosed the hallowed ground, and within it stood a spacious temple with the images of many gods, but none of them was worshipped with such devotion as balder. so great was the awe with which the heathen regarded the place that no man might harm another there, nor steal his cattle, nor defile himself with women. but women cared for the images of the gods in the temple; they warmed them at the fire, anointed them with oil, and dried them with cloths.[ ] [the legendary death of balder resembles the legendary death of the persian hero isfendiyar in the epic of firdusi.] it might be rash to affirm that the romantic figure of balder was nothing but a creation of the mythical fancy, a radiant phantom conjured up as by a wizard's wand to glitter for a time against the gloomy background of the stern norwegian landscape. it may be so; yet it is also possible that the myth was founded on the tradition of a hero, popular and beloved in his lifetime, who long survived in the memory of the people, gathering more and more of the marvellous about him as he passed from generation to generation of story-tellers. at all events it is worth while to observe that a somewhat similar story is told of another national hero, who may well have been a real man. in his great poem, _the epic of kings_, which is founded on persian traditions, the poet firdusi tells us that in the combat between rustem and isfendiyar the arrows of the former did no harm to his adversary, "because zerdusht had charmed his body against all dangers, so that it was like unto brass." but simurgh, the bird of god, shewed rustem the way he should follow in order to vanquish his redoubtable foe. he rode after her, and they halted not till they came to the sea-shore. there she led him into a garden, where grew a tamarisk, tall and strong, and the roots thereof were in the ground, but the branches pierced even unto the sky. then the bird of god bade rustem break from the tree a branch that was long and slender, and fashion it into an arrow, and she said, "only through his eyes can isfendiyar be wounded. if, therefore, thou wouldst slay him, direct this arrow unto his forehead, and verily it shall not miss its aim." rustem did as he was bid; and when next he fought with isfendiyar, he shot the arrow at him, and it pierced his eye, and he died. great was the mourning for isfendiyar. for the space of one year men ceased not to lament for him, and for many years they shed bitter tears for that arrow, and they said, "the glory of iran hath been laid low."[ ] [the myth of balder was perhaps acted as a magical ceremony. the two chief incidents of the myth, namely the pulling of the mistletoe and the death and burning of the god, have perhaps their counterparts in popular ritual.] whatever may be thought of an historical kernel underlying a mythical husk in the legend of balder, the details of the story suggest that it belongs to that class of myths which have been dramatized in ritual, or, to put it otherwise, which have been performed as magical ceremonies for the sake of producing those natural effects which they describe in figurative language. a myth is never so graphic and precise in its details as when it is, so to speak, the book of the words which are spoken and acted by the performers of the sacred rite. that the norse story of balder was a myth of this sort will become probable if we can prove that ceremonies resembling the incidents in the tale have been performed by norsemen and other european peoples. now the main incidents in the tale are two--first, the pulling of the mistletoe, and second, the death and burning of the god; and both of them may perhaps be found to have had their counterparts in yearly rites observed, whether separately or conjointly, by people in various parts of europe. these rites will be described and discussed in the following chapters. we shall begin with the annual festivals of fire and shall reserve the pulling of the mistletoe for consideration later on. notes: [ ] _die edda_, übersetzt von k. simrock*[ ] (stuttgart, ), pp. - . compare pp. , , . balder's story is told in a professedly historical form by the old danish historian saxo grammaticus in his third book. see below, p. . in english the story is told at length by professor (sir) john rhys, _celtic heathendom_ (london and edinburgh, ), pp. _sqq._ it is elaborately discussed by professor f. knuffmann in a learned monograph, _balder, mythus und sage_ (strasburg, ). [ ] gudbrand vigfusson and f. york powell, _corpus poeticum boreale_, i. (oxford, ) p. . compare _edda rhythmica seu antiquior, vulgo saemundina dicta_, pars iii. (copenhagen, ) pp. _sq._; _die edda_, übersetzt von k. simrock*[ ] (stuttgart, ), p. ; k. müllenhoff, _deutsche altertumskunde_, v. zweite abteilung (berlin, ), pp. _sq._; fr. kauffmann, _balder, mythus und sage_, pp. _sq._ in this passage the words translated "bloody victim" (_blaupom tivor_) and "fate looming" (_ørlog fólgen_) are somewhat uncertain and have been variously interpreted. the word _tivor_, usually understood to mean "god," seems to be found nowhere else. professor h.m. chadwick has kindly furnished me with the following literal translation of the passage: "i saw (or 'have seen') held in safe keeping the life of balder, the bloody god, othin's son. high above the fields (i.e. the surface of the earth) grew a mistletoe, slender and very beautiful. from a shaft (or 'stem') which appeared slender, came a dangerous sorrow-bringing missile (i.e. the shaft became a ... missile); hodr proceeded to shoot. soon was a brother of balder born. he, othin's son, proceeded to do battle when one day old. he did not wash his hands or comb his head before he brought balder's antagonist on to the pyre. but frigg in fen-salir (i.e. the fen-abode) lamented the trouble of val-holl." in translating the words _ørlog fólgen_ "held in safe keeping the life" professor chadwick follows professor f. kauffmann's rendering ("_das leben verwahrt_"); but he writes to me that he is not quite confident about it, as the word _ørlog_ usually means "fate" rather than "life." several sentences translated by professor chadwick ("soon was a brother of balder born ... he brought balder's antagonist on the pyre") are omitted by some editors and translators of the _edda_. [ ] g. vigfusson and f. york powell, _corpus poeticum boreale_, i. _sq._; _edda rhythmica seu antiquior, vulgo saemundina dicta_, pars iii. pp. - ; _die edda_, übersetzt von k. simrock,*[ ] p. _sq._; k. müllenhoff, _deutsche altertumskunde_, v. zweite abteilung, pp. _sq._ [ ] saxo grammaticus, _historia danica_, ed. p.e. müller (copenhagen, - ), _lib._ iii. vol. i. pp. _sqq._; _the first nine books of the danish history of saxo grammaticus_, translated by oliver elton (london, ), pp. - . [ ] _fridthjofs saga, aus dem alt-isländischen_, von j.c. poestion, (vienna, ), pp. _sq._, - , - . [ ] _the epic of kings, stories retold from firdusi_, by helen zimmern (london, ), pp. - . the parallel between balder and isfendiyar was pointed out in the "lexicon mythologicum" appended to the _edda rhythmifa seu antiquior, vulgo saemundina dicta_, pars iii. (copenhagen, ) p. note, with a reference to _schah namech, verdeutscht von görres_, ii. , _sq._ it is briefly mentioned by dr. p. wagler, _die eiche in alter und neuer zeit_, ii. teil (berlin, ), p. . chapter iv the fire-festivals of europe § . _the lenten fires_ [european custom of kindling bonfires on certain days of the year, dancing round them and leaping over them. effigies are sometimes burnt in the fires.] all over europe the peasants have been accustomed from time immemorial to kindle bonfires on certain days of the year, and to dance round or leap over them. customs of this kind can be traced back on historical evidence to the middle ages,[ ] and their analogy to similar customs observed in antiquity goes with strong internal evidence to prove that their origin must be sought in a period long prior to the spread of christianity. indeed the earliest proof of their observance in northern europe is furnished by the attempts made by christian synods in the eighth century to put them down as heathenish rites.[ ] not uncommonly effigies are burned in these fires, or a pretence is made of burning a living person in them; and there are grounds for believing that anciently human beings were actually burned on these occasions. a general survey of the customs in question will bring out the traces of human sacrifice, and will serve at the same time to throw light on their meaning.[ ] [seasons of the year at which the bonfires are lit.] the seasons of the year when these bonfires are most commonly lit are spring and midsummer; but in some places they are kindled also at the end of autumn or during the course of the winter, particularly on hallow e'en (the thirty-first of october), christmas day, and the eve of twelfth day. we shall consider them in the order in which they occur in the calendar year. the earliest of them is the winter festival of the eve of twelfth day (the fifth of january); but as it has been already described in an earlier part of this work[ ] we shall pass it over here and begin with the fire-festivals of spring, which usually fall on the first sunday of lent (_quadragesima_ or _invocavit_),[ ] easter eve, and may day. [custom of kindling bonfires on the first sunday in lent in the belgian ardennes.] the custom of kindling bonfires on the first sunday in lent has prevailed in belgium, the north of france, and many parts of germany. thus in the belgian ardennes for a week or a fortnight before the "day of the great fire," as it is called, children go about from farm to farm collecting fuel. at grand halleux any one who refuses their request is pursued next day by the children, who try to blacken his face with the ashes of the extinct fire. when the day has come, they cut down bushes, especially juniper and broom, and in the evening great bonfires blaze on all the heights. it is a common saying that seven bonfires should be seen if the village is to be safe from conflagrations. if the meuse happens to be frozen hard at the time, bonfires are lit also on the ice. at grand halleux they set up a pole called _makral_ or "the witch," in the midst of the pile, and the fire is kindled by the man who was last married in the village. in the neighbourhood of morlanwelz a straw man is burnt in the fire. young people and children dance and sing round the bonfires, and leap over the embers to secure good crops or a happy marriage within the year, or as a means of guarding themselves against colic. in brabant on the same sunday, down to the beginning of the nineteenth century, women and men disguised in female attire used to go with burning torches to the fields, where they danced and sang comic songs for the purpose, as they alleged, of driving away "the wicked sower," who is mentioned in the gospel for the day. at maeseyck and in many villages of limburg, on the evening of the day children run through the streets carrying lighted torches; then they kindle little fires of straw in the fields and dance round them. at ensival old folks tell young folks that they will have as many easter eggs as they see bonfires on this day.[ ] at pâturages, in the province of hainaut, down to about the custom was observed under the name of _escouvion_ or _scouvion_. every year on the first sunday of lent, which was called the day of the little scouvion, young folks and children used to run with lighted torches through the gardens and orchards. as they ran they cried at the pitch of their voices, "_bear apples, bear pears and cherries all black to scouvion!_" at these words the torch-bearer whirled his blazing brand and hurled it among the branches of the apple-trees, the pear-trees, and the cherry-trees. the next sunday was called the day of the great scouvion, and the same race with lighted torches among the trees of the orchards was repeated in the afternoon till darkness fell. the same custom was observed on the same two days at wasmes.[ ] in the neighbourhood of liège, where the lenten fires were put down by the police about the middle of the nineteenth century, girls thought that by leaping over the fires without being smirched they made sure of a happy marriage. elsewhere in order to get a good husband it was necessary to see seven of the bonfires from one spot. in famenne, a district of namur, men and cattle who traversed the lenten fires were thought to be safe from sickness and witchcraft. anybody who saw seven such fires at once had nothing to fear from sorcerers. an old saying ran, that if you do not light "the great fire," god will light it for you; which seems to imply that the kindling of the bonfires was deemed a protection against conflagrations throughout the year.[ ] [bonfires on the first sunday of lent in the french department of the ardennes.] in the french department of the ardennes the whole village used to dance and sing round the bonfires which were lighted on the first sunday in lent. here, too, it was the person last married, sometimes a man and sometimes a woman, who put the match to the fire. the custom is still kept up very commonly in the district. cats used to be burnt in the fire or roasted to death by being held over it; and while they were burning the shepherds drove their flocks through the smoke and flames as a sure means of guarding them against sickness and witchcraft. in some communes it was believed that the livelier the dance round the fire, the better would be the crops that year.[ ] in the vosges mountains it is still customary to light great fires on the heights and around the villages on the first sunday in lent; and at rupt and elsewhere the right of kindling them belongs to the person who was last married. round the fires the people dance and sing merrily till the flames have died out. then the master of the fire, as they call the man who kindled it, invites all who contributed to the erection of the pile to follow him to the nearest tavern, where they partake of good cheer. at dommartin they say that, if you would have the hemp tall, it is absolutely necessary that the women should be tipsy on the evening of this day.[ ] at Épinal in the vosges, on the first sunday in lent, bonfires used to be kindled at various places both in the town and on the banks of the moselle. they consisted of pyramids of sticks and faggots, which had been collected some days earlier by young folks going from door to door. when the flames blazed up, the names of various couples, whether young or old, handsome or ugly, rich or poor, were called out, and the persons thus linked in mock marriage were forced, whether they liked it or not, to march arm in arm round the fire amid the laughter and jests of the crowd. the festivity lasted till the fire died out, and then the spectators dispersed through the streets, stopping under the windows of the houses and proclaiming the names of the _féchenots_ and _féchenottes_ or valentines whom the popular voice had assigned to each other. these couples had to exchange presents; the mock bridegroom gave his mock bride something for her toilet, while she in turn presented him with a cockade of coloured ribbon. next sunday, if the weather allowed it, all the couples, arrayed in their best attire and attended by their relations, repaired to the wood of saint antony, where they mounted a famous stone called the _danserosse_ or _danseresse_. here they found cakes and refreshments of all sorts, and danced to the music of a couple of fiddlers. the evening bell, ringing the angelus, gave the signal to depart. as soon as its solemn chime was heard, every one quitted the forest and returned home. the exchange of presents between the valentines went by the name of ransom or redemption (_rachat_), because it was supposed to redeem the couple from the flames of the bonfire. any pair who failed thus to ransom themselves were not suffered to share the merrymaking at the great stone in the forest; and a pretence was made of burning them in small fires kindled before their own doors.[ ] [bonfires on the first sunday of lent in franche-comté.] in the french province of franche-comté, to the west of the jura mountains, the first sunday of lent is known as the sunday of the firebrands (_brandons_), on account of the fires which it is customary to kindle on that day. on the saturday or the sunday the village lads harness themselves to a cart and drag it about the streets, stopping at the doors of the houses where there are girls and begging for a faggot. when they have got enough, they cart the fuel to a spot at some little distance from the village, pile it up, and set it on fire. all the people of the parish come out to see the bonfire. in some villages, when the bells have rung the angelus, the signal for the observance is given by cries of, "to the fire! to the fire!" lads, lasses, and children dance round the blaze, and when the flames have died down they vie with each other in leaping over the red embers. he or she who does so without singeing his or her garments will be married within the year. young folk also carry lighted torches about the streets or the fields, and when they pass an orchard they cry out, "more fruit than leaves!" down to recent years at laviron, in the department of doubs, it was the young married couples of the year who had charge of the bonfires. in the midst of the bonfire a pole was planted with a wooden figure of a cock fastened to the top. then there were races, and the winner received the cock as a prize.[ ] [bonfires on the first sunday of lent in auvergne; the granno invoked at these bonfires may be the old celtic god grannus, who was identified with apollo.] in auvergne fires are everywhere kindled on the evening of the first sunday in lent. every village, every hamlet, even every ward, every isolated farm has its bonfire or _figo_, as it is called, which blazes up as the shades of night are falling. the fires may be seen flaring on the heights and in the plains; the people dance and sing round about them and leap through the flames. then they proceed to the ceremony of the _grannas-mias_. a _granno-mio_[ ] is a torch of straw fastened to the top of a pole. when the pyre is half consumed, the bystanders kindle the torches at the expiring flames and carry them into the neighbouring orchards, fields, and gardens, wherever there are fruit-trees. as they march they sing at the top of their voices, "_granno, mo mio, granno, mon pouère, granno, mo mouère!_" that is, "grannus my friend, grannus my father, grannus my mother." then they pass the burning torches under the branches of every tree, singing, "_brando, brandounci tsaque brantso, in plan panei!_" that is, "firebrand burn; every branch a basketful!" in some villages the people also run across the sown fields and shake the ashes of the torches on the ground; also they put some of the ashes in the fowls' nests, in order that the hens may lay plenty of eggs throughout the year. when all these ceremonies have been performed, everybody goes home and feasts; the special dishes of the evening are fritters and pancakes.[ ] here the application of the fire to the fruit-trees, to the sown fields, and to the nests of the poultry is clearly a charm intended to ensure fertility; and the granno to whom the invocations are addressed, and who gives his name to the torches, may possibly be, as dr. pommerol suggests,[ ] no other than the ancient celtic god grannus, whom the romans identified with apollo, and whose worship is attested by inscriptions found not only in france but in scotland and on the danube.[ ] if the name grannus is derived, as the learned tell us, from a root meaning "to glow, burn, shine,"[ ] the deity who bore the name and was identified with apollo may well have been a sun-god; and in that case the prayers addressed to him by the peasants of the auvergne, while they wave the blazing, crackling torches about the fruit-trees, would be eminently appropriate. for who could ripen the fruit so well as the sun-god? and what better process could be devised to draw the blossoms from the bare boughs than the application to them of that genial warmth which is ultimately derived from the solar beams? thus the fire-festival of the first sunday in lent, as it is observed in auvergne, may be interpreted very naturally and simply as a religious or rather perhaps magical ceremony designed to procure a due supply of the sun's heat for plants and animals. at the same time we should remember that the employment of fire in this and kindred ceremonies may have been designed originally, not so much to stimulate growth and reproduction, as to burn and destroy all agencies, whether in the shape of vermin, witches, or what not, which threatened or were supposed to threaten the growth of the crops and the multiplication of animals. it is often difficult to decide between these two different interpretations of the use of fire in agricultural rites. in any case the fire-festival of auvergne on the first sunday in lent may date from druidical times. [french custom of carrying lighted torches (_brandons_) about the orchards and fields to fertilize them on the first sunday of lent.] the custom of carrying lighted torches of straw (_brandons_) about the orchards and fields to fertilize them on the first sunday of lent seems to have been common in france, whether it was accompanied with the practice of kindling bonfires or not. thus in the province of picardy "on the first sunday of lent people carried torches through the fields, exorcising the field-mice, the darnel, and the smut. they imagined that they did much good to the gardens and caused the onions to grow large. children ran about the fields, torch in hand, to make the land more fertile. all that was done habitually in picardy, and the ceremony of the torches is not entirely forgotten, especially in the villages on both sides the somme as far as saint-valery."[ ] "a very agreeable spectacle, said the curate of l'Étoile, is to survey from the portal of the church, situated almost on the top of the mountain, the vast plains of vimeux all illuminated by these wandering fires. the same pastime is observed at poix, at conty, and in all the villages round about."[ ] again, in the district of beauce a festival of torches (_brandons_ or _brandelons_) used to be held both on the first and on the second sunday in lent; the first was called "the great torches" and the second "the little torches." the torches were, as usual, bundles of straw wrapt round poles. in the evening the village lads carried the burning brands through the country, running about in disorder and singing, "_torches burn at these vines, at this wheat_; _torches burn for the maidens that shall wed_!" from time to time the bearers would stand still and smite the earth all together with the blazing straw of the torches, while they cried, "a sheaf of a peck and a half!" (_gearbe à boissiaux_). if two torchbearers happened to meet each other on their rounds, they performed the same ceremony and uttered the same words. when the straw was burnt out, the poles were collected and a great bonfire made of them. lads and lasses danced round the flames, and the lads leaped over them. afterwards it was customary to eat a special sort of hasty-pudding made of wheaten flour. these usages were still in vogue at the beginning of the nineteenth century, but they have now almost disappeared. the peasants believed that by carrying lighted torches through the fields they protected the crops from field-mice, darnel, and smut.[ ] "at dijon, in burgundy, it is the custom upon the first sunday in lent to make large fires in the streets, whence it is called firebrand sunday. this practice originated in the processions formerly made on that day by the peasants with lighted torches of straw, to drive away, as they called it, the bad air from the earth."[ ] in some parts of france, while the people scoured the country with burning brands on the first sunday in lent, they warned the fruit-trees that if they did not take heed and bear fruit they would surely be cut down and cast into the fire.[ ] on the same day peasants in the department of loiret used to run about the sowed fields with burning torches in their hands, while they adjured the field-mice to quit the wheat on pain of having their whiskers burned.[ ] in the department of ain the great fires of straw and faggots which are kindled in the fields at this time are or were supposed to destroy the nests of the caterpillars.[ ] at verges, a lonely village surrounded by forests between the jura and the combe d'ain, the torches used at this season were kindled in a peculiar manner. the young people climbed to the top of a mountain, where they placed three nests of straw in three trees. these nests being then set on fire, torches made of dry lime-wood were lighted at them, and the merry troop descended the mountain to their flickering light, and went to every house in the village, demanding roasted peas and obliging all couples who had been married within the year to dance.[ ] in berry, a district of central france, it appears that bonfires are not lighted on this day, but when the sun has set the whole population of the villages, armed with blazing torches of straw, disperse over the country and scour the fields, the vineyards, and the orchards. seen from afar, the multitude of moving lights, twinkling in the darkness, appear like will-o'-the-wisps chasing each other across the plains, along the hillsides, and down the valleys. while the men wave their flambeaus about the branches of the fruit-trees, the women and children tie bands of wheaten-straw round the tree-trunks. the effect of the ceremony is supposed to be to avert the various plagues from which the fruits of the earth are apt to suffer; and the bands of straw fastened round the stems of the trees are believed to render them fruitful.[ ] in the peninsula of la manche the norman peasants used to spend almost the whole night of the first sunday in lent rushing about the country with lighted torches for the purpose, as they supposed, of driving away the moles and field-mice; fires were also kindled on some of the dolmens.[ ] [bonfires on the first sunday in lent in germany and austria; burning the witch; burning discs thrown into the air; burning wheels rolled down hill; bonfires on the first sunday in lent in switzerland.] in germany, austria, and switzerland at the same season similar customs have prevailed. thus in the eifel mountains, rhenish prussia, on the first sunday in lent young people used to collect straw and brushwood from house to house. these they carried to an eminence and piled up round a tall, slim beech-tree, to which a piece of wood was fastened at right angles to form a cross. the structure was known as the "hut" or "castle." fire was set to it and the young people marched round the blazing "castle" bareheaded, each carrying a lighted torch and praying aloud. sometimes a straw-man was burned in the "hut." people observed the direction in which the smoke blew from the fire. if it blew towards the corn-fields, it was a sign that the harvest would be abundant. on the same day, in some parts of the eifel, a great wheel was made of straw and dragged by three horses to the top of a hill. thither the village boys marched at nightfall, set fire to the wheel, and sent it rolling down the slope. two lads followed it with levers to set it in motion again, in case it should anywhere meet with a check. at oberstattfeld the wheel had to be provided by the young man who was last married.[ ] about echternach in luxemburg the same ceremony is called "burning the witch"; while it is going on, the older men ascend the heights and observe what wind is blowing, for that is the wind which will prevail the whole year.[ ] at voralberg in the tyrol, on the first sunday in lent, a slender young fir-tree is surrounded with a pile of straw and firewood. to the top of the tree is fastened a human figure called the "witch," made of old clothes and stuffed with gunpowder. at night the whole is set on fire and boys and girls dance round it, swinging torches and singing rhymes in which the words "corn in the winnowing-basket, the plough in the earth" may be distinguished.[ ] in swabia on the first sunday in lent a figure called the "witch" or the "old wife" or "winter's grandmother" is made up of clothes and fastened to a pole. this is stuck in the middle of a pile of wood, to which fire is applied. while the "witch" is burning, the young people throw blazing discs into the air. the discs are thin round pieces of wood, a few inches in diameter, with notched edges to imitate the rays of the sun or stars. they have a hole in the middle, by which they are attached to the end of a wand. before the disc is thrown it is set on fire, the wand is swung to and fro, and the impetus thus communicated to the disc is augmented by dashing the rod sharply against a sloping board. the burning disc is thus thrown off, and mounting high into the air, describes a long fiery curve before it reaches the ground. a single lad may fling up forty or fifty of these discs, one after the other. the object is to throw them as high as possible. the wand by which they are hurled must, at least in some parts of swabia, be of hazel. sometimes the lads also leap over the fire brandishing lighted torches of pine-wood. the charred embers of the burned "witch" and discs are taken home and planted in the flaxfields the same night, in the belief that they will keep vermin from the fields.[ ] at wangen, near molsheim in baden, a like custom is observed on the first sunday in lent. the young people kindle a bonfire on the crest of the mountain above the village; and the burning discs which they hurl into the air are said to present in the darkness the aspect of a continual shower of falling stars. when the supply of discs is exhausted and the bonfire begins to burn low, the boys light torches and run with them at full speed down one or other of the three steep and winding paths that descend the mountain-side to the village. bumps, bruises, and scratches are often the result of their efforts to outstrip each other in the headlong race.[ ] in the rhön mountains, situated on the borders of hesse and bavaria, the people used to march to the top of a hill or eminence on the first sunday in lent. children and lads carried torches, brooms daubed with tar, and poles swathed in straw. a wheel, wrapt in combustibles, was kindled and rolled down the hill; and the young people rushed about the fields with their burning torches and brooms, till at last they flung them in a heap, and standing round them, struck up a hymn or a popular song. the object of running about the fields with the blazing torches was to "drive away the wicked sower." or it was done in honour of the virgin, that she might preserve the fruits of the earth throughout the year and bless them.[ ] in neighbouring villages of hesse, between the rhön and the vogel mountains, it is thought that wherever the burning wheels roll, the fields will be safe from hail and storm.[ ] at konz on the moselle, on the thursday before the first sunday in lent, the two guilds of the butchers and the weavers used to repair to the marxberg and there set up an oak-tree with a wheel fastened to it. on the following sunday the people ascended the hill, cut down the oak, set fire to the wheel, and sent both oak and wheel rolling down the hillside, while a guard of butchers, mounted on horses, fired at the flaming wheel in its descent. if the wheel rolled down into the moselle, the butchers were rewarded with a waggon-load of wine by the archbishop of treves.[ ] [burning discs thrown into the air.] in switzerland, also, it is or used to be customary to kindle bonfires on high places on the evening of the first sunday in lent, and the day is therefore popularly known as spark sunday. the custom prevailed, for example, throughout the canton of lucerne. boys went about from house to house begging for wood and straw, then piled the fuel on a conspicuous mountain or hill round about a pole, which bore a straw effigy called "the witch." at nightfall the pile was set on fire, and the young folks danced wildly round it, some of them cracking whips or ringing bells; and when the fire burned low enough, they leaped over it. this was called "burning the witch." in some parts of the canton also they used to wrap old wheels in straw and thorns, put a light to them, and send them rolling and blazing down hill. the same custom of rolling lighted wheels down hill is attested by old authorities for the cantons of aargau and bâle. the more bonfires could be seen sparkling and flaring in the darkness, the more fruitful was the year expected to be; and the higher the dancers leaped beside or over the fire, the higher, it was thought, would grow the flax. in the district of freiburg and at birseck in the district of bâle it was the last married man or woman who must kindle the bonfire. while the bonfires blazed up, it was customary in some parts of switzerland to propel burning discs of wood through the air by means of the same simple machinery which is used for the purpose in swabia. each lad tried to send his disc fizzing and flaring through the darkness as far as possible, and in discharging it he mentioned the name of the person to whose honour it was dedicated. but in prättigau the words uttered in launching the fiery discs referred to the abundance which was apparently expected to follow the performance of the ceremony. among them were, "grease in the pan, corn in the fan, and the plough in the earth!"[ ] [connexion of these bonfires with the custom of "carrying out death;" effigies burnt on shrove tuesday.] it seems hardly possible to separate from these bonfires, kindled on the first sunday in lent, the fires in which, about the same season, the effigy called death is burned as part of the ceremony of "carrying out death." we have seen that at spachendorf, in austrian silesia, on the morning of rupert's day (shrove tuesday?), a straw-man, dressed in a fur coat and a fur cap, is laid in a hole outside the village and there burned, and that while it is blazing every one seeks to snatch a fragment of it, which he fastens to a branch of the highest tree in his garden or buries in his field, believing that this will make the crops to grow better. the ceremony is known as the "burying of death."[ ] even when the straw-man is not designated as death, the meaning of the observance is probably the same; for the name death, as i have tried to shew, does not express the original intention of the ceremony. at cobern in the eifel mountains the lads make up a straw-man on shrove tuesday. the effigy is formally tried and accused of having perpetrated all the thefts that have been committed in the neighbourhood throughout the year. being condemned to death, the straw-man is led through the village, shot, and burned upon a pyre. they dance round the blazing pile, and the last bride must leap over it.[ ] in oldenburg on the evening of shrove tuesday people used to make long bundles of straw, which they set on fire, and then ran about the fields waving them, shrieking, and singing wild songs. finally they burned a straw-man on the field.[ ] in the district of düsseldorf the straw-man burned on shrove tuesday was made of an unthreshed sheaf of corn.[ ] on the first monday after the spring equinox the urchins of zurich drag a straw-man on a little cart through the streets, while at the same time the girls carry about a may-tree. when vespers ring, the straw-man is burned.[ ] in the district of aachen on ash wednesday a man used to be encased in peas-straw and taken to an appointed place. here he slipped quietly out of his straw casing, which was then burned, the children thinking that it was the man who was being burned.[ ] in the val di ledro (tyrol) on the last day of the carnival a figure is made up of straw and brushwood and then burned. the figure is called the old woman, and the ceremony "burning the old woman."[ ] § . _the easter fires_ [fire-festivals on easter eve. custom in catholic countries of kindling a holy new fire at the church on easter saturday; marvellous properties ascribed to the embers of the fire; the burning of judas.] another occasion on which these fire-festivals are held is easter eve, the saturday before easter sunday. on that day it has been customary in catholic countries to extinguish all the lights in the churches, and then to make a new fire, sometimes with flint and steel, sometimes with a burning-glass. at this fire is lit the great paschal or easter candle, which is then used to rekindle all the extinguished lights in the church. in many parts of germany a bonfire is also kindled, by means of the new fire, on some open space near the church. it is consecrated, and the people bring sticks of oak, walnut, and beech, which they char in the fire, and then take home with them. some of these charred sticks are thereupon burned at home in a newly-kindled fire, with a prayer that god will preserve the homestead from fire, lightning, and hail. thus every house receives "new fire." some of the sticks are kept throughout the year and laid on the hearth-fire during heavy thunder-storms to prevent the house from being struck by lightning, or they are inserted in the roof with the like intention. others are placed in the fields, gardens, and meadows, with a prayer that god will keep them from blight and hail. such fields and gardens are thought to thrive more than others; the corn and the plants that grow in them are not beaten down by hail, nor devoured by mice, vermin, and beetles; no witch harms them, and the ears of corn stand close and full. the charred sticks are also applied to the plough. the ashes of the easter bonfire, together with the ashes of the consecrated palm-branches, are mixed with the seed at sowing. a wooden figure called judas is sometimes burned in the consecrated bonfire, and even where this custom has been abolished the bonfire itself in some places goes by the name of "the burning of judas."[ ] [easter fires in bavaria and the abruzzi.] in the hollertau, bavaria, the young men used to light their lanterns at the newly-kindled easter candle in the church and then race to the bonfire; he who reached it first set fire to the pile, and next day, easter sunday, was rewarded at the church-door by the housewives, who presented him with red eggs. great was the jubilation while the effigy of the traitor was being consumed in the flames. the ashes were carefully collected and thrown away at sunrise in running water.[ ] in many parts of the abruzzi, also, pious people kindle their fires on easter saturday with a brand brought from the sacred new fire in the church. when the brand has thus served to bless the fire on the domestic hearth, it is extinguished, and the remainder is preserved, partly in a cranny of the outer wall of the house, partly on a tree to which it is tied. this is done for the purpose of guarding the homestead against injury by storms. at campo di giove the people say that if you can get a piece of one of the three holy candles which the priest lights from the new fire, you should allow a few drops of the wax to fall into the crown of your hat; for after that, if it should thunder and lighten, you have nothing to do but to clap the hat on your head, and no flash of lightning can possibly strike you.[ ] [water as well as fire consecrated in the abruzzi on easter saturday; water consecrated in calabria on easter saturday; water and fire consecrated on easter saturday among the germans of bohemia; easter rites of fire and water at hildesheim.] further, it deserves to be noted that in the abruzzi water as well as fire is, as it were, renewed and consecrated on easter saturday. most people fetch holy water on that day from the churches, and every member of the family drinks a little of it, believing that it has power to protect him or her against witchcraft, fever, and stomach-aches of all sorts. and when the church bells ring again after their enforced silence, the water is sprinkled about the house, and especially under the beds, with the help of a palm-branch. some of this blessed water is also kept in the house for use in great emergencies, when there is no time to fetch a priest; thus it may be employed to baptize a newborn infant gasping for life or to sprinkle a sick man in the last agony; such a sprinkling is reckoned equal to priestly absolution.[ ] in calabria the customs with regard to the new water, as it is called, on easter saturday are similar; it is poured into a new vessel, adorned with ribbons and flowers, is blessed by the priest, and is tasted by every one of the household, beginning with the parents. and when the air vibrates with the glad music of the church bells announcing the resurrection, the people sprinkle the holy water about the houses, bidding in a loud voice all evil things to go forth and all good things to come in. at the same time, to emphasize the exorcism, they knock on doors, window-shutters, chests, and other domestic articles of furniture. at cetraro people who suffer from diseases of the skin bathe in the sea at this propitious moment; at pietro in guarano they plunge into the river on the night of easter saturday before easter sunday dawns, and while they bathe they utter never a word. moreover, the calabrians keep the "new water" as a sacred thing. they believe that it serves as a protection against witchcraft if it is sprinkled on a fire or a lamp, when the wood crackles or the wick sputters; for they regard it as a bad omen when the fire talks, as they say.[ ] among the germans of western bohemia, also, water as well as fire is consecrated by the priest in front of the church on easter saturday. people bring jugs full of water to the church and set them beside the holy fire; afterwards they use the water to sprinkle on the palm-branches which are stuck in the fields. charred sticks of the judas fire, as it is popularly called, are supposed to possess a magical and healing virtue; hence the people take them home with them, and even scuffle with each other for the still glowing embers in order to carry them, still glimmering, to their houses and so obtain "the light" or "the holy light."[ ] at hildesheim, also, and the neighbouring villages of central germany rites both of fire and water are or were till lately observed at easter. thus on easter night many people fetch water from the innerste river and keep it carefully, believing it to be a remedy for many sorts of ailments both of man and beast. in the villages on the leine river servant men and maids used to go silently on easter night between the hours of eleven and twelve and silently draw water in buckets from the river; they mixed the water with the fodder and the drink of the cattle to make the animals thrive, and they imagined that to wash in it was good for human beings. many were also of opinion that at the same mystic hour the water turned to wine as far as the crowing of a cock could be heard, and in this belief they laid themselves flat on their stomachs and kept their tongues in the water till the miraculous change occurred, when they took a great gulp of the transformed water. at hildesheim, too, and the neighbouring villages fires used to blaze on all the heights on easter eve; and embers taken from the bonfires were dipped in the cattle troughs to benefit the beasts and were kept in the houses to avert lightning.[ ] [new fire at easter in carinthia; consecration of fire and water by the catholic church at easter.] in the lesachthal, carinthia, all the fires in the houses used to be extinguished on easter saturday, and rekindled with a fresh fire brought from the churchyard, where the priest had lit it by the friction of flint and steel and had bestowed his blessing on it.[ ] such customs were probably widespread. in a latin poem of the sixteenth century, written by a certain thomas kirchmeyer and translated into english by barnabe googe, we read:-- "_on easter eve the fire all is quencht in every place, and fresh againe from out the flint is fetcht with solemne grace: the priest doth halow this against great daungers many one, a brande whereof doth every man with greedie mind take home, that when the fearefull storme appeares, or tempest black arise, by lighting this he safe may be from stroke of hurtful skies: a taper great, the paschall namde, with musicke then they blesse, and franckensence herein they pricke, for greater holynesse: this burneth night and day as signe of christ that conquerde hell, as if so be this foolish toye suffiseth this to tell. then doth the bishop or the priest, the water halow straight, that for their baptisme is reservde: for now no more of waight is that they usde the yeare before, nor can they any more, yong children christen with the same, as they have done before. with wondrous pompe and furniture, amid the church they go, with candles, crosses, banners, chrisme, and oyle appoynted tho: nine times about the font they marche, and on the saintes doe call, then still at length they stande, and straight the priest begins withall, and thrise the water doth he touche, and crosses thereon make, here bigge and barbrous wordes he speakes, to make the devill quake: and holsome waters conjureth, and foolishly doth dresse, supposing holyar that to make, which god before did blesse: and after this his candle than, he thrusteth in the floode, and thrise he breathes thereon with breath, that stinkes of former foode: and making here an ende, his chrisme he poureth thereupon, the people staring hereat stande, amazed every one; beleeving that great powre is given to this water here, by gaping of these learned men, and such like trifling gere. therefore in vessels brought they draw, and home they carie some, against the grieves that to themselves, or to their beastes may come. then clappers ceasse, and belles are set againe at libertée, and herewithall the hungrie times of fasting ended bée."_[ ] it is said that formerly all the fires in rome were lighted afresh from the holy fire kindled in st. peter's on easter saturday.[ ] [the new fire on easter saturday at florence.] in florence the ceremony of kindling the new fire on easter eve is peculiar. the holy flame is elicited from certain flints which are said to have been brought by a member of the pazzi family from the holy land. they are kept in the church of the holy apostles on the piazza del limbo, and on the morning of easter saturday the prior strikes fire from them and lights a candle from the new flame. the burning candle is then carried in solemn procession by the clergy and members of the municipality to the high altar in the cathedral. a vast crowd has meanwhile assembled in the cathedral and the neighbouring square to witness the ceremony; amongst the spectators are many peasants drawn from the surrounding country, for it is commonly believed that on the success or failure of the ceremony depends the fate of the crops for the year. outside the door of the cathedral stands a festal car drawn by two fine white oxen with gilded horns. the body of the car is loaded with a pyramid of squibs and crackers and is connected by a wire with a pillar set up in front of the high altar. the wire extends down the middle of the nave at a height of about six feet from the ground. beneath it a clear passage is left, the spectators being ranged on either side and crowding the vast interior from wall to wall. when all is ready, high mass is celebrated, and precisely at noon, when the first words of the _gloria_ are being chanted, the sacred fire is applied to the pillar, which like the car is wreathed with fireworks. a moment more and a fiery dove comes flying down the nave, with a hissing sound and a sputter of sparks, between the two hedges of eager spectators. if all goes well, the bird pursues its course along the wire and out at the door, and in another moment a prolonged series of fizzes, pops and bangs announces to the excited crowd in the cathedral that the fireworks on the car are going off. great is the joy accordingly, especially among the bumpkins, who are now sure of an abundant harvest. but if, as sometimes happens, the dove stops short in its career and fizzles out, revealing itself as a stuffed bird with a packet of squibs tied to its tail, great is the consternation, and deep the curses that issue from between the set teeth of the clodhoppers, who now give up the harvest for lost. formerly the unskilful mechanician who was responsible for the failure would have been clapped into gaol; but nowadays he is thought sufficiently punished by the storm of public indignation and the loss of his pay. the disaster is announced by placards posted about the streets in the evening; and next morning the newspapers are full of gloomy prognostications.[ ] [the new fire and burning of judas on easter saturday in mexico.] some of these customs have been transported by the catholic church to the new world. thus in mexico the new fire is struck from a flint early in the morning of easter saturday, and a candle which has been lighted at the sacred flame is carried through the church by a deacon shouting "_lumen christi_." meantime the whole city, we are informed, has been converted into a vast place of execution. ropes stretch across the streets from house to house, and from every house dangles an effigy of judas, made of paper pulp. scores or hundreds of them may adorn a single street. they are of all shapes and sizes, grotesque in form and garbed in strange attire, stuffed with gunpowder, squibs and crackers, sometimes, too, with meat, bread, soap, candy, and clothing, for which the crowd will scramble and scuffle while the effigies are burning. there they hang grim, black, and sullen in the strong sunshine, greeted with a roar of execration by the pious mob. a peal of bells from the cathedral tower on the stroke of noon gives the signal for the execution. at the sound a frenzy seizes the crowd. they throw themselves furiously on the figures of the detested traitor, cut them down, hurl them with curses into the fire, and fight and struggle with each other in their efforts to tear the effigies to tatters and appropriate their contents. smoke, stink, sputter of crackers, oaths, curses, yells are now the order of the day. but the traitor does not perish unavenged. for the anatomy of his frame has been cunningly contrived so as in burning to discharge volleys of squibs into his assailants; and the wounds and burns with which their piety is rewarded form a feature of the morning's entertainment. the english jockey club in mexico used to improve on this popular pastime by suspending huge figures of judas, stuffed with copper coins, from ropes in front of their clubhouse. these were ignited at the proper moment and lowered within reach of the expectant rabble, and it was the privilege of members of the club, seated in the balcony, to watch the grimaces and to hear the shrieks of the victims, as they stamped and capered about with the hot coppers sticking to their hands, divided in their minds between an acute sense of pain and a thirst for filthy lucre.[ ] [the burning of judas at easter in south america.] scenes of the same sort, though on a less ambitious scale, are witnessed among the catholics of south america on the same day. in brazil the mourning for the death of christ ceases at noon on easter saturday and gives place to an extravagant burst of joy at his resurrection. shots are fired everywhere, and effigies of judas are hung on trees or dragged about the streets, to be finally burned or otherwise destroyed.[ ] in the indian villages scattered among the wild valleys of the peruvian andes figures of the traitor, made of pasteboard and stuffed with squibs and crackers, are hanged on gibbets before the door of the church on easter saturday. fire is set to them, and while they crackle and explode, the indians dance and shout for joy at the destruction of their hated enemy.[ ] similarly at rio hacha, in colombia, judas is represented during holy week by life-sized effigies, and the people fire at them as if they were discharging a sacred duty.[ ] [the new fire on easter saturday in the church of the holy sepulchre at jerusalem.] but usages of this sort are not confined to the latin church; they are common to the greek church also. every year on the saturday before easter sunday a new fire is miraculously kindled at the holy sepulchre in jerusalem. it descends from heaven and ignites the candles which the patriarch holds in his hands, while with closed eyes he wrestles in prayer all alone in the chapel of the angel. the worshippers meanwhile wait anxiously in the body of the church, and great are their transports of joy when at one of the windows of the chapel, which had been all dark a minute before, there suddenly appears the hand of an angel, or of the patriarch, holding a lighted taper. this is the sacred new fire; it is passed out to the expectant believers, and the desperate struggle which ensues among them to get a share of its blessed influence is only terminated by the intervention of the turkish soldiery, who restore peace and order by hustling the whole multitude impartially out of the church. in days gone by many lives were often lost in these holy scrimmages. for example, in the year , the famous ibrahim pasha witnessed the frantic scene from one of the galleries, and, being moved with compassion at the sight, descended with a few guards into the arena in the chimerical hope of restoring peace and order among the contending christians. he contrived to force his way into the midst of the dense crowd, but there the heat and pressure were so great that he fainted away; a body of soldiers, seeing his danger, charged straight into the throng and carried him out of it in their arms, trampling under foot the dying and dead in their passage. nearly two hundred people were killed that day in the church. the fortunate survivors on these occasions who succeeded in obtaining a portion of the coveted fire applied it freely to their faces, their beards, and their garments. the theory was that the fire, being miraculous, could only bless and not burn them; but the practical results of the experiment were often disappointing, for while the blessings were more or less dubious, there could be no doubt whatever about the burns.[ ] the history of the miracle has been carefully investigated by a jesuit father. the conclusions at which he arrives are that the miracle was a miracle indeed so long as the catholics had the management of it; but that since it fell into the hands of the heretics it has been nothing but a barefaced trick and imposture.[ ] many people will be disposed to agree with the latter conclusion who might hesitate to accept the former. [the new fire and the burning of judas on easter saturday in greece.] at athens the new fire is kindled in the cathedral at midnight on holy saturday. a dense crowd with unlit candles in their hands fills the square in front of the cathedral; the king, the archbishop, and the highest dignitaries of the church, arrayed in their gorgeous robes, occupy a platform; and at the exact moment of the resurrection the bells ring out, and the whole square bursts as by magic into a blaze of light. theoretically all the candles are lit from the sacred new fire in the cathedral, but practically it may be suspected that the matches which bear the name of lucifer have some share in the sudden illumination.[ ] effigies of judas used to be burned at athens on easter saturday, but the custom has been forbidden by the government. however, firing goes on more or less continuously all over the city both on easter saturday and easter sunday, and the cartridges used on this occasion are not always blank. the shots are aimed at judas, but sometimes they miss him and hit other people. outside of athens the practice of burning judas in effigy still survives in some places. for example, in cos a straw image of the traitor is made on easter day, and after being hung up and shot at it is burned.[ ] a similar custom appears to prevail at thebes;[ ] it used to be observed by the macedonian peasantry, and it is still kept up at therapia, a fashionable summer resort of constantinople.[ ] [the new fire at candlemas in armenia.] in the armenian church the sacred new fire is kindled not at easter but at candlemas, that is, on the second of february, or on the eve of that festival. the materials of the bonfire are piled in an open space near a church, and they are generally ignited by young couples who have been married within the year. however, it is the bishop or his vicar who lights the candles with which fire is set to the pile. all young married pairs are expected to range themselves about the fire and to dance round it. young men leap over the flames, but girls and women content themselves with going round them, while they pray to be preserved from the itch and other skin-diseases. when the ceremony is over, the people eagerly pick up charred sticks or ashes of the fire and preserve them or scatter them on the four corners of the roof, in the cattle-stall, in the garden, and on the pastures; for these holy sticks and ashes protect men and cattle against disease, and fruit-trees against worms and caterpillars. omens, too, are drawn from the direction in which the wind blows the flames and the smoke: if it carries them eastward, there is hope of a good harvest; but if it inclines them westward, the people fear that the crops will fail.[ ] [the new fire and the burning of judas at easter are probably relics of paganism.] in spite of the thin cloak of christianity thrown over these customs by representing the new fire as an emblem of christ and the figure burned in it as an effigy of judas, we can hardly doubt that both practices are of pagan origin. neither of them has the authority of christ or of his disciples; but both of them have abundant analogies in popular custom and superstition. some instances of the practice of annually extinguishing fires and relighting them from a new and sacred flame have already come before us;[ ] but a few examples may here be cited for the sake of illustrating the wide diffusion of a custom which has found its way into the ritual both of the eastern and of the western church. [the new fire at the summer solstice among the incas of peru; the new fire among the indians of mexico and new mexico; the new fire among the esquimaux.] the incas of peru celebrated a festival called raymi, a word which their native historian garcilasso de la vega tells us was equivalent to our easter. it was held in honour of the sun at the solstice in june. for three days before the festival the people fasted, men did not sleep with their wives, and no fires were lighted in cuzco, the capital. the sacred new fire was obtained direct from the sun by concentrating his beams on a highly polished concave plate and reflecting them on a little cotton wool. with this holy fire the sheep and lambs offered to the sun were consumed, and the flesh of such as were to be eaten at the festival was roasted. portions of the new fire were also conveyed to the temple of the sun and to the convent of the sacred virgins, where they were kept burning all the year, and it was an ill omen if the holy flame went out.[ ] at a festival held in the last month of the old mexican year all the fires both in the temples and in the houses were extinguished, and the priest kindled a new fire by rubbing two sticks against each other before the image of the fire-god.[ ] the zuni indians of new mexico kindle a new fire by the friction of wood both at the winter and the summer solstice. at the winter solstice the chosen fire-maker collects a faggot of cedar-wood from every house in the village, and each person, as he hands the wood to the fire-maker, prays that the crops may be good in the coming year. for several days before the new fire is kindled, no ashes or sweepings may be removed from the houses and no artificial light may appear outside of them, not even a burning cigarette or the flash of firearms. the indians believe that no rain will fall on the fields of the man outside whose house a light has been seen at this season. the signal for kindling the new fire is given by the rising of the morning star. the flame is produced by twirling an upright stick between the hands on a horizontal stick laid on the floor of a sacred chamber, the sparks being caught by a tinder of cedar-dust. it is forbidden to blow up the smouldering tinder with the breath, for that would offend the gods. after the fire has thus been ceremonially kindled, the women and girls of all the families in the village clean out their houses. they carry the sweepings and ashes in baskets or bowls to the fields and leave them there. to the sweepings the woman says: "i now deposit you as sweepings, but in one year you will return to me as corn." and to the ashes she says: "i now deposit you as ashes, but in one year you will return to me as meal." at the summer solstice the sacred fire which has been procured by the friction of wood is used to kindle the grass and trees, that there may be a great cloud of smoke, while bull-roarers are swung and prayers offered that the rain-makers up aloft will water the earth.[ ] from this account we see how intimately the kindling of a new fire at the two turning-points of the sun's course is associated in the minds of these indians with the fertility of the land, particularly with the growth of the corn. the rolling smoke is apparently an imitation of rain-clouds designed, on the principle of homoeopathic magic, to draw showers from the blue sky. once a year the iroquois priesthood supplied the people with a new fire. as a preparation for the annual rite the fires in all the huts were extinguished and the ashes scattered about. then the priest, wearing the insignia of his office, went from hut to hut relighting the fires by means of a flint.[ ] among the esquimaux with whom c.f. hall resided, it was the custom that at a certain time, which answered to our new year's day, two men went about from house to house blowing out every light in the village. one of the men was dressed to represent a woman. afterwards the lights were rekindled from a fresh fire. an esquimau woman being asked what all this meant, replied, "new sun--new light."[ ] among the esquimaux of iglulik, when the sun first rises above the horizon after the long night of the arctic winter, the children who have watched for his reappearance run into the houses and blow out the lamps. then they receive from their mothers presents of pieces of wick.[ ] [the new fire in wadai, among the swahili, and in other parts of africa.] in the sudanese kingdom of wadai all the fires in the villages are put out and the ashes removed from the houses on the day which precedes the new year festival. at the beginning of the new year a new fire is lit by the friction of wood in the great straw hut where the village elders lounge away the sultry hours together; and every man takes thence a burning brand with which he rekindles the fire on his domestic hearth.[ ] in the bahr-el-ghazal province of the egyptian sudan the people extinguish their old fires at the arab new year and bring in new fire. on the same occasion they beat the walls of their huts, the grass thatches, and the walls of their enclosures in order to drive away the devil or evil spirits. the beating of the walls and roofs is accompanied by the firing of guns, the shouting of men, and the shriller cries of the women.[ ] thus these people combine an annual expulsion of demons with an annual lighting of a new fire. among the swahili of east africa the greatest festival is that of the new year, which falls in the second half of august. at a given moment all the fires are extinguished with water and afterwards relit by the friction of two dry pieces of wood. the ashes of the old fires are carried out and deposited at cross-roads. all the people get up very early in the morning and bathe in the sea or some other water, praying to be kept in good health and to live that they may bathe again next year. sham-fights form part of the amusements of the day; sometimes they pass into grim reality. indeed the day was formerly one of general license; every man did that which was good in his own eyes. no awkward questions were asked about any crimes committed on this occasion, so some people improved the shining hour by knocking a few poor devils on the head. shooting still goes on during the whole day, and at night the proceedings generally wind up with a great dance.[ ] the king of benametapa, as the early portuguese traders called him, in east africa used to send commissioners annually to every town in his dominions; on the arrival of one of these officers the inhabitants of each town had to put out all their fires and to receive a new fire from him. failure to comply with this custom was treated as rebellion.[ ] some tribes of british central africa carefully extinguish the fires on the hearths at the beginning of the hoeing season and at harvest; the fires are afterwards rekindled by friction, and the people indulge in dances of various kinds.[ ] [the new fire among the todas of southern india and among the nagas of north-eastern india.] the todas of the neilgheny hills, in southern india, annually kindle a sacred new fire by the friction of wood in the month which begins with the october moon. the ceremony is performed by two holy dairymen at the foot of a high hill. when they have lighted the fire by rubbing two dry sticks together, and it begins to burn well, they stand a little way off and pray, saying, "may the young grass flower! may honey flourish! may fruit ripen!" the purpose of the ceremony is to make the grass and honey plentiful. in ancient times the todas lived largely on wild fruits, and then the rite of the new fire was very important. now that they subsist chiefly on the milk of their buffaloes, the ceremony has lost much of its old significance.[ ] when the nagas of north-eastern india have felled the timber and cut down the scrub in those patches of jungle which they propose to cultivate, they put out all the fires in the village and light a new fire by rubbing two dry pieces of wood together. then having kindled torches at it they proceed with them to the jungle and ignite the felled timber and brushwood. the flesh of a cow or buffalo is also roasted on the new fire and furnishes a sacrificial meal.[ ] near the small town of kahma in burma, between prome and thayetmyo, certain gases escape from a hollow in the ground and burn with a steady flame during the dry season of the year. the people regard the flame as the forge of a spectral smith who here carried on his business after death had removed him from his old smithy in the village. once a year all the household fires in kahma are extinguished and then lighted afresh from the ghostly flame.[ ] [the new fire in china and japan.] in china every year, about the beginning of april, certain officials, called _sz'hüen_, used of old to go about the country armed with wooden clappers. their business was to summon the people and command them to put out every fire. this was the beginning of a season called _han-shih-tsieh_, or "eating cold food." for three days all household fires remained extinct as a preparation for the solemn renewal of the fire, which took place on the fifth or sixth day of april, being the hundred and fifth day after the winter solstice. the ceremony was performed with great pomp by the same officials, who procured the new fire from heaven by reflecting the sun's rays either from a metal mirror or from a crystal on dry moss. fire thus obtained is called by the chinese heavenly fire, and its use is enjoined in sacrifices; whereas fire elicited by the friction of wood is termed by them earthly fire, and its use is prescribed for cooking and other domestic purposes. when once the new fire had thus been drawn from the sun, all the people were free to rekindle their domestic hearths; and, as a chinese distich has it-- "_at the festival of the cold food there are a thousand white stalks among the flowers; on the day tsing-ming, at sunrise, you may see the smoke of ten thousand houses_." according to a chinese philosopher, the reason for thus renewing fire periodically is that the vital principle grows weaker and weaker in old fire, whereas in new fire it is young and vigorous. this annual renewal of fire was a ceremony of very great antiquity in china, since it is known to have been observed in the time of the first dynasty, about two thousand years before christ. under the tcheou dynasty a change in the calendar led to shifting the fire-festival from spring to the summer solstice, but afterwards it was brought back to its original date. although the custom appears to have long fallen into disuse, the barbarous inhabitants of hainan, an island to the south of china, still call a year "a fire," as if in memory of the time when the years were reckoned by the annually recurring ceremony of rekindling the sacred fire.[ ] "a japanese book written two centuries ago informs us that sticks resembling the wands used for offerings at the purification ceremony were part shaven and set up in bundles at the four corners of the gion shrine on the last day of the year. the priests, after prayers were recited, broke up the bundles and set fire to the sticks, which the people then carried home to light their household fires with for the new year. the object of this ceremony was to avert pestilence."[ ] [the new fire in ancient greece and rome.] in classical antiquity the greek island of lemnos was devoted to the worship of the smith-god hephaestus, who was said to have fallen on it when zeus hurled him from heaven.[ ] once a year every fire in the island was extinguished and remained extinct for nine days, during which sacrifices were offered to the dead and to the infernal powers. new fire was brought in a ship from the sacred isle of delos, and with it the fires in the houses and the workshops were relit. the people said that with the new fire they made a new beginning of life. if the ship that bore the sacred flame arrived too soon, it might not put in to shore, but had to cruise in the offing till the nine days were expired.[ ] at rome the sacred fire in the temple of vesta was kindled anew every year on the first of march, which used to be the beginning of the roman year;[ ] the task of lighting it was entrusted to the vestal virgins, and they performed it by drilling a hole in a board of lucky wood till the flame was elicited by friction. the new fire thus produced was carried into the temple of vesta by one of the virgins in a bronze sieve.[ ] [the new fire at hallow e'en among the old celts of ireland; the new fire on september st among the russian peasants.] among the celts of ireland a new fire was annually kindled on hallowe'en or the eve of samhain, as they called it, the last day of october, from which the irish new year began; and all the hearths throughout the country are said to have been relighted from the fresh fire. the place where this holy flame was lit bore the name of tlachtga or tlactga; it has been identified with a rath or native fort on the hill of ward near athboy in the county of meath. "it was there," says the old irish historian, geoffrey keating, "that the festival of the fire of tlactga was ordered to be held, and it was thither that the druids of ireland were wont to repair and to assemble, in solemn meeting, on the eve of samhain, for the purpose of making a sacrifice to all the gods. it was in that fire at tlactga, that their sacrifice was burnt; and it was made obligatory, under pain of punishment, to extinguish all the fires of ireland, on that eve; and the men of ireland were allowed to kindle no other fire but that one; and for each of the other fires, which were all to be lighted from it, the king of munster was to receive a tax of a _sgreball_, that is, of three pence, because the land, upon which tlactga was built, belongs to the portion of meath which had been taken from munster."[ ] in the villages near moscow at the present time the peasants put out all their fires on the eve of the first of september, and next morning at sunrise a wise man or a wise woman rekindles them with the help of muttered incantations and spells.[ ] [thus the ceremony of the new fire in the eastern and western church is probably a relic of an old heathen rite.] instances of such practices might doubtless be multiplied, but the foregoing examples may suffice to render it probable that the ecclesiastical ceremony of lighting a sacred new fire on easter saturday had originally nothing to do with christianity, but is merely one case of a world-wide custom which the church has seen fit to incorporate in its ritual. it might be supposed that in the western church the custom was merely a survival of the old roman usage of renewing the fire on the first of march, were it not that the observance by the eastern church of the custom on the same day seems to point back to a still older period when the ceremony of lighting a new fire in spring, perhaps at the vernal equinox, was common to many peoples of the mediterranean area. we may conjecture that wherever such a ceremony has been observed, it originally marked the beginning of a new year, as it did in ancient rome and ireland, and as it still does in the sudanese kingdom of wadai and among the swahili of eastern africa. [the pagan character of the easter fire appears from the superstitions associated with it, such as the belief that the fire fertilizes the fields and protects houses from conflagration and sickness.] the essentially pagan character of the easter fire festival appears plainly both from the mode in which it is celebrated by the peasants and from the superstitious beliefs which they associate with it. all over northern and central germany, from altmark and anhalt on the east, through brunswick, hanover, oldenburg, the harz district, and hesse to westphalia the easter bonfires still blaze simultaneously on the hill-tops. as many as forty may sometimes be counted within sight at once. long before easter the young people have been busy collecting firewood; every farmer contributes, and tar-barrels, petroleum cases, and so forth go to swell the pile. neighbouring villages vie with each other as to which shall send up the greatest blaze. the fires are always kindled, year after year, on the same hill, which accordingly often takes the name of easter mountain. it is a fine spectacle to watch from some eminence the bonfires flaring up one after another on the neighbouring heights. as far as their light reaches, so far, in the belief of the peasants, the fields will be fruitful, and the houses on which they shine will be safe from conflagration or sickness. at volkmarsen and other places in hesse the people used to observe which way the wind blew the flames, and then they sowed flax seed in that direction, confident that it would grow well. brands taken from the bonfires preserve houses from being struck by lightning; and the ashes increase the fertility of the fields, protect them from mice, and mixed with the drinking-water of cattle make the animals thrive and ensure them against plague. as the flames die down, young and old leap over them, and cattle are sometimes driven through the smouldering embers. in some places tar-barrels or wheels wrapt in straw used to be set on fire, and then sent rolling down the hillside. in others the boys light torches and wisps of straw at the bonfires and rush about brandishing them in their hands. where the people are divided between protestantism and catholicism, as in hildesheim, it has been observed that among protestants the easter bonfires are generally left to the boys, while in catholic districts they are cared for by grown-up persons, and here the whole population will gather round the blazing pile and join in singing choral hymns, which echo far and wide in the stillness of night.[ ] [the easter fires in münsterland, oldenburg, the harz mountains and the altmark.] in münsterland these easter fires are always kindled upon certain definite hills, which are hence known as easter or paschal mountains. the whole community assembles about the fire. fathers of families form an inner circle round it. an outer circle is composed of the young men and maidens, who, singing easter hymns, march round and round the fire in the direction of the sun, till the blaze dies down. then the girls jump over the fire in a line, one after the other, each supported by two young men who hold her hands and run beside her. when the fire has burned out, the whole assembly marches in solemn procession to the church, singing hymns. they go thrice round the church, and then break up. in the twilight boys with blazing bundles of straw run over the fields to make them fruitful.[ ] at delmenhorst, in oldenburg, it used to be the custom to cut down two trees, plant them in the ground side by side, and pile twelve tar-barrels, one above the other, against each of the trees. brushwood was then heaped about the trees, and on the evening of easter saturday the boys, after rushing about with blazing beanpoles in their hands, set fire to the whole. at the end of the ceremony the urchins tried to blacken each other and the clothes of grown-up people.[ ] in schaumburg the easter bonfires may be seen blazing on all the mountains around for miles. they are made with a tar-barrel fastened to a pine-tree, which is wrapt in straw. the people dance singing round them.[ ] in the harz mountains the fire is commonly made by piling brushwood about a tree and setting it on fire. at osterode every one tries to snatch a brand from the bonfire and runs about with it; the better it burns, the more lucky it is. in grund there are torch-races.[ ] in the altmark the easter bonfires are composed of tar-barrels, bee-hives, and so forth, piled round a pole. the young folk dance round the fire; and when it has died out, the old folk come and collect the ashes, which they preserve as a remedy for the ailments of bees. it is also believed that as far as the blaze of the bonfire is visible, the corn will grow well throughout the year, and no conflagration will break out.[ ] at braunröde, in the harz mountains, it was the custom to burn squirrels in the easter bonfire.[ ] in the altmark, bones were burned in it.[ ] [the easter fires in bavaria; the burning of judas; burning the easter man.] further south the easter fires are, or used to be, lit in many districts of bavaria. thus on easter monday in some parts of middle franken the schoolboys collect all the old worn-out besoms they can lay hands on, and march with them in a long procession to a neighbouring height. when the first chime of the evening bell comes up from the dale they set fire to the brooms, and run along the ridges waving them, so that seen from below the hills appear to be crested with a twinkling and moving chain of fire.[ ] in some parts of upper bavaria at easter burning arrows or discs of wood were shot from hill-tops high into the air, as in the swabian and swiss customs already described.[ ] at oberau, instead of the discs, an old cart-wheel was sometimes wrapt in straw, ignited, and sent rolling and blazing down the mountain. the lads who hurled the discs received painted easter eggs from the girls.[ ] near forchheim, in upper franken, a straw-man called the judas used to be burned in the churchyards on easter saturday. the whole village contributed wood to the pyre on which he perished, and the charred sticks were afterwards kept and planted in the fields on walpurgis day (the first of may) to preserve the wheat from blight and mildew.[ ] about a hundred years ago or more the custom at althenneberg, in upper bavaria, used to be as follows. on the afternoon of easter saturday the lads collected wood, which they piled in a cornfield, while in the middle of the pile they set up a tall wooden cross all swathed in straw. after the evening service they lighted their lanterns at the consecrated candle in the church, and ran with them at full speed to the pyre, each striving to get there first. the first to arrive set fire to the heap. no woman or girl might come near the bonfire, but they were allowed to watch it from a distance. as the flames rose the men and lads rejoiced and made merry, shouting, "we are burning the judas!" two of them had to watch the glowing embers the whole night long, lest people should come and steal them. next morning at sunrise they carefully collected the ashes, and threw them into the running water of the röten brook. the man who had been the first to reach the pyre and to kindle it was rewarded on easter sunday by the women, who gave him coloured eggs at the church door. well-to-do women gave him two; poorer women gave him only one. the object of the whole ceremony was to keep off the hail. about a century ago the judas fire, as it was called, was put down by the police.[ ] at giggenhausen and aufkirchen, two other villages of upper bavaria, a similar custom prevailed, yet with some interesting differences. here the ceremony, which took place between nine and ten at night on easter saturday, was called "burning the easter man." on a height about a mile from the village the young fellows set up a tall cross enveloped in straw, so that it looked like a man with his arms stretched out. this was the easter man. no lad under eighteen years of age might take part in the ceremony. one of the young men stationed himself beside the easter man, holding in his hand a consecrated taper which he had brought from the church and lighted. the rest stood at equal intervals in a great circle round the cross. at a given signal they raced thrice round the circle, and then at a second signal ran straight at the cross and at the lad with the lighted taper beside it; the one who reached the goal first had the right of setting fire to the easter man. great was the jubilation while he was burning. when he had been consumed in the flames, three lads were chosen from among the rest, and each of the three drew a circle on the ground with a stick thrice round the ashes. then they all left the spot. on easter monday the villagers gathered the ashes and strewed them on their fields; also they planted in the fields palm-branches which had been consecrated on palm sunday, and sticks which had been charred and hallowed on good friday, all for the purpose of protecting their fields against showers of hail. the custom of burning an easter man made of straw on easter saturday was observed also at abensberg, in lower bavaria.[ ] in some parts of swabia the easter fires might not be kindled with iron or steel or flint, but only by the friction of wood.[ ] [the easter fires in baden; "thunder poles."] in baden bonfires are still kindled in the churchyards on easter saturday, and ecclesiastical refuse of various sorts, such as candle-ends, old surplices, and the wool used by the priest in the application of extreme unction, is consumed in the flames. at zoznegg down to about the fire was lighted by the priest by means of a flint which had never been used before. people bring sticks, especially oaken sticks, char them in the fire, and then carry them home and keep them in the house as a preservative against lightning. at zoznegg these oaken sticks were sword-shaped, each about an ell and a half long, and they went by the name of "weather or thunder poles" (_wetterpfähle_). when a thunderstorm threatened to break out, one of the sticks was put into a small fire, in order that the hallowed smoke, ascending to the clouds, might ward off the lightning from the house and the hail from the fields and gardens. at schöllbronn the oaken sticks, which are thus charred in the easter bonfire and kept in the house as a protective against thunder and lightning, are three in number, perhaps with an allusion to the trinity; they are brought every easter to be consecrated afresh in the bonfire, till they are quite burnt away. in the lake district of baden it is also customary to burn one of these holy sticks in the fire when a heavy thunderstorm is raging.[ ] hence it seems that the ancient association of the oak with the thunder[ ] persists in the minds of german peasants to the present day. [easter fires in holland and sweden; the burning of judas in bohemia.] thus the custom of the easter fires appears to have prevailed all over central and western germany from north to south. we find it also in holland, where the fires were kindled on the highest eminences, and the people danced round them and leaped through the flames or over the glowing embers. here too, as so often in germany, the materials for the bonfire were collected by the young folk from door to door.[ ] in many parts of sweden firearms are, as at athens, discharged in all directions on easter eve, and huge bonfires are lighted on hills and eminences. some people think that the intention is to keep off the troll and other evil spirits who are especially active at this season.[ ] when the afternoon service on good friday is over, german children in bohemia drive judas out of the church by running about the sacred edifice and even the streets shaking rattles and clappers. next day, on easter saturday, the remains of the holy oil are burnt before the church door in a fire which must be kindled with flint and steel. this fire is called "the burning of judas," but in spite of its evil name a beneficent virtue is ascribed to it, for the people scuffle for the cinders, which they put in the roofs of their houses as a safeguard against fire and lightning.[ ] § . _the beltane fires_ [the beltane fires on the first of may in the highlands of scotland; description of the beltane fires by john ramsay of ochtertyre in the eighteenth century.] in the central highlands of scotland bonfires, known as the beltane fires, were formerly kindled with great ceremony on the first of may, and the traces of human sacrifices at them were particularly clear and unequivocal. the custom of lighting the bonfires lasted in various places far into the eighteenth century, and the descriptions of the ceremony by writers of that period present such a curious and interesting picture of ancient heathendom surviving in our own country that i will reproduce them in the words of their authors. the fullest of the descriptions, so far as i know, is the one bequeathed to us by john ramsay, laird of ochtertyre, near crieff, the patron of burns and the friend of sir walter scott. from his voluminous manuscripts, written in the last quarter of the eighteenth century, a selection was published in the latter part of the nineteenth century. the following account of beltane is extracted from a chapter dealing with highland superstitions. ramsay says: "but the most considerable of the druidical festivals is that of beltane, or may-day, which was lately observed in some parts of the highlands with extraordinary ceremonies. of later years it is chiefly attended to by young people, persons advanced in years considering it as inconsistent with their gravity to give it any countenance. yet a number of circumstances relative to it may be collected from tradition, or the conversation of very old people, who witnessed this feast in their youth, when the ancient rites were better observed. [need-fire.] "this festival is called in gaelic _beal-tene_--i.e., the fire of bel.... like the other public worship of the druids, the beltane feast seems to have been performed on hills or eminences. they thought it degrading to him whose temple is the universe, to suppose that he would dwell in any house made with hands. their sacrifices were therefore offered in the open air, frequently upon the tops of hills, where they were presented with the grandest views of nature, and were nearest the seat of warmth and order. and, according to tradition, such was the manner of celebrating this festival in the highlands within the last hundred years. but since the decline of superstition, it has been celebrated by the people of each hamlet on some hill or rising ground around which their cattle were pasturing. thither the young folks repaired in the morning, and cut a trench, on the summit of which a seat of turf was formed for the company. and in the middle a pile of wood or other fuel was placed, which of old they kindled with _tein-eigin_-- i.e., forced-fire or _need-fire_. although, for many years past, they have been contented with common fire, yet we shall now describe the process, because it will hereafter appear that recourse is still had to the _tein-eigin_ upon extraordinary emergencies. [need-fire kindled by the friction of oak wood.] "the night before, all the fires in the country were carefully extinguished, and next morning the materials for exciting this sacred fire were prepared. the most primitive method seems to be that which was used in the islands of skye, mull, and tiree. a well-seasoned plank of oak was procured, in the midst of which a hole was bored. a wimble of the same timber was then applied, the end of which they fitted to the hole. but in some parts of the mainland the machinery was different. they used a frame of green wood, of a square form, in the centre of which was an axle-tree. in some places three times three persons, in others three times nine, were required for turning round by turns the axle-tree or wimble. if any of them had been guilty of murder, adultery, theft, or other atrocious crime, it was imagined either that the fire would not kindle, or that it would be devoid of its usual virtue. so soon as any sparks were emitted by means of the violent friction, they applied a species of agaric which grows on old birch-trees, and is very combustible. this fire had the appearance of being immediately derived from heaven, and manifold were the virtues ascribed to it. they esteemed it a preservative against witchcraft, and a sovereign remedy against malignant diseases, both in the human species and in cattle; and by it the strongest poisons were supposed to have their nature changed. [the beltane cake and the beltane carline (_cailleach_).] "after kindling the bonfire with the _tein-eigin_ the company prepared their victuals. and as soon as they had finished their meal, they amused themselves a while in singing and dancing round the fire. towards the close of the entertainment, the person who officiated as master of the feast produced a large cake baked with eggs and scalloped round the edge, called _am bonnach beal-tine--i.e._ the beltane cake. it was divided into a number of pieces, and distributed in great form to the company. there was one particular piece which whoever got was called _cailleach beal-tine--i.e._, the beltane _carline_, a term of great reproach. upon his being known, part of the company laid hold of him and made a show of putting him into the fire; but the majority interposing, he was rescued. and in some places they laid him flat on the ground, making as if they would quarter him. afterwards, he was pelted with egg-shells, and retained the odious appellation during the whole year. and while the feast was fresh in people's memory, they affected to speak of the _cailleach beal-tine_ as dead. "this festival was longest observed in the interior highlands, for towards the west coast the traces of it are faintest. in glenorchy and lorne, a large cake is made on that day, which they consume in the house; and in mull it has a large hole in the middle, through which each of the cows in the fold is milked. in tiree it is of a triangular form. the more elderly people remember when this festival was celebrated without-doors with some solemnity in both these islands. there are at present no vestiges of it in skye or the long island, the inhabitants of which have substituted the _connach micheil_ or st. michael's cake. it is made at michaelmas with milk and oatmeal, and some eggs are sprinkled on its surface. part of it is sent to the neighbours. "it is probable that at the original beltane festival there were two fires kindled near one another. when any person is in a critical dilemma, pressed on each side by unsurmountable difficulties, the highlanders have a proverb, _the e' eada anda theine bealtuin_--i.e., he is between the two beltane fires. there are in several parts small round hills, which, it is like, owe their present names to such solemn uses. one of the highest and most central in icolmkil is called _cnoch-nan-ainneal_--i.e., the hill of the fires. there is another of the same name near the kirk of balquhidder; and at killin there is a round green eminence which seems to have been raised by art. it is called _tom-nan-ainneal_--i.e., the eminence of the fires. around it there are the remains of a circular wall about two feet high. on the top a stone stands upon end. according to the tradition of the inhabitants, it was a place of druidical worship; and it was afterwards pitched on as the most venerable spot for holding courts of justice for the country of breadalbane. the earth of this eminence is still thought to be possessed of some healing virtue, for when cattle are observed to be diseased some of it is sent for, which is rubbed on the part affected."[ ] [local differences in the beltane cakes; evidence of two fires at beltane; beltane pies and cakes in the parish of callander.] in the parish of callander, a beautiful district of western perthshire, the beltane custom was still in vogue towards the end of the eighteenth century. it has been described as follows by the parish minister of the time: "upon the first day of may, which is called _beltan_, or _bal-tein_ day, all the boys in a township or hamlet, meet in the moors. they cut a table in the green sod, of a round figure, by casting a trench in the ground, of such circumference as to hold the whole company. they kindle a fire, and dress a repast of eggs and milk in the consistence of a custard. they knead a cake of oatmeal, which is toasted at the embers against a stone. after the custard is eaten up, they divide the cake into so many portions, as similar as possible to one another in size and shape, as there are persons in the company. they daub one of these portions all over with charcoal, until it be perfectly black. they put all the bits of the cake into a bonnet. every one, blindfold, draws out a portion. he who holds the bonnet, is entitled to the last bit. whoever draws the black bit, is the _devoted_ person who is to be sacrificed to _baal_[ ] whose favour they mean to implore, in rendering the year productive of the sustenance of man and beast. there is little doubt of these inhuman sacrifices having been once offered in this country, as well as in the east, although they now pass from the act of sacrificing, and only compel the _devoted_ person to leap three times through the flames; with which the ceremonies of this festival are closed."[ ] [pennant's description of the beltane fires and cakes in perthshire.] thomas pennant, who travelled in perthshire in the year , tells us that "on the first of may, the herdsmen of every village hold their bel-tien, a rural sacrifice. they cut a square trench on the ground, leaving the turf in the middle; on that they make a fire of wood, on which they dress a large caudle of eggs, butter, oatmeal and milk; and bring besides the ingredients of the caudle, plenty of beer and whisky; for each of the company must contribute something. the rites begin with spilling some of the caudle on the ground, by way of libation: on that every one takes a cake of oatmeal, upon which are raised nine square knobs, each dedicated to some particular being, the supposed preserver of their flocks and herds, or to some particular animal, the real destroyer of them: each person then turns his face to the fire, breaks off a knob, and flinging it over his shoulders, says, 'this i give to thee, preserve thou my horses; this to thee, preserve thou my sheep; and so on,' after that, they use the-same ceremony to the noxious animals: 'this i give to thee, o fox! spare thou my lambs; this to thee, o hooded crow! this to thee, o eagle!' when the ceremony is over, they dine on the caudle; and after the feast is finished, what is left is hid by two persons deputed for that purpose; but on the next sunday they re-assemble, and finish the reliques of the first entertainment"[ ] [beltane cakes and fires in the parishes of logierait and kirkmichael; omens drawn from the cakes.] another writer of the eighteenth century has described the beltane festival as it was held in the parish of logierait in perthshire. he says: "on the first of may, o.s., a festival called _beltan_ is annually held here. it is chiefly celebrated by the cow-herds, who assemble by scores in the fields, to dress a dinner for themselves, of boiled milk and eggs. these dishes they eat with a sort of cakes baked for the occasion, and having small lumps in the form of _nipples_, raised all over the surface."[ ] in this last account no mention is made of bonfires, but they were probably lighted, for a contemporary writer informs us that in the parish of kirkmichael, which adjoins the parish of logierait on the east, the custom of lighting a fire in the fields and baking a consecrated cake on the first of may was not quite obsolete in his time.[ ] we may conjecture that the cake with knobs was formerly used for the purpose of determining who should be the "beltane carline" or victim doomed to the flames. a trace of this custom survived, perhaps, in the custom of baking oatmeal cakes of a special kind and rolling them down hill about noon on the first of may; for it was thought that the person whose cake broke as it rolled would die or be unfortunate within the year. these cakes, or bannocks as we call them in scotland, were baked in the usual way, but they were washed over with a thin batter composed of whipped egg, milk or cream, and a little oatmeal. this custom appears to have prevailed at or near kingussie in inverness-shire. at achterneed, near strathpeffer in ross-shire, the beltane bannocks were called _tcharnican_ or hand-cakes, because they were kneaded entirely in the hand, and not on a board or table like common cakes; and after being baked they might not be placed anywhere but in the hands of the children who were to eat them.[ ] [beltane fires in the north-east of scotland to burn the witches; the beltane cake.] in the north-east of scotland the beltane fires were still kindled in the latter half of the eighteenth century; the herdsmen of several farms used to gather dry wood, kindle it, and dance three times "southways" about the burning pile.[ ] but in this region, according to a later authority, the beltane fires were lit not on the first but on the second of may, old style. they were called bone-fires. the people believed that on that evening and night the witches were abroad and busy casting spells on cattle and stealing cows' milk. to counteract their machinations, pieces of rowan-tree and woodbine, but especially of rowan-tree, were placed over the doors of the cow-houses, and fires were kindled by every farmer and cottar. old thatch, straw, furze, or broom was piled in a heap and set on fire a little after sunset. while some of the bystanders kept tossing the blazing mass, others hoisted portions of it on pitchforks or poles and ran hither and thither, holding them as high as they could. meantime the young people danced round the fire or ran through the smoke shouting, "fire! blaze and burn the witches; fire! fire! burn the witches." in some districts a large round cake of oat or barley meal was rolled through the ashes. when all the fuel was consumed, the people scattered the ashes far and wide, and till the night grew quite dark they continued to run through them, crying, "fire! burn the witches."[ ] [beltane cakes and fires in the hebrides.] in the hebrides "the beltane bannock is smaller than that made at st. michael's, but is made in the same way; it is no longer made in uist, but father allan remembers seeing his grandmother make one about twenty-five years ago. there was also a cheese made, generally on the first of may, which was kept to the next beltane as a sort of charm against the bewitching of milk-produce. the beltane customs seem to have been the same as elsewhere. every fire was put out and a large one lit on the top of the hill, and the cattle driven round it sunwards (_dessil_), to keep off murrain all the year. each man would take home fire wherewith to kindle his own."[ ] [beltane fires and cakes in wales.] in wales also the custom of lighting beltane fires at the beginning of may used to be observed, but the day on which they were kindled varied from the eve of may day to the third of may. the flame was sometimes elicited by the friction of two pieces of oak, as appears from the following description. "the fire was done in this way. nine men would turn their pockets inside out, and see that every piece of money and all metals were off their persons. then the men went into the nearest woods, and collected sticks of nine different kinds of trees. these were carried to the spot where the fire had to be built. there a circle was cut in the sod, and the sticks were set crosswise. all around the circle the people stood and watched the proceedings. one of the men would then take two bits of oak, and rub them together until a flame was kindled. this was applied to the sticks, and soon a large fire was made. sometimes two fires were set up side by side. these fires, whether one or two, were called _coelcerth_ or bonfire. round cakes of oatmeal and brown meal were split in four, and placed in a small flour-bag, and everybody present had to pick out a portion. the last bit in the bag fell to the lot of the bag-holder. each person who chanced to pick up a piece of brown-meal cake was compelled to leap three times over the flames, or to run thrice between the two fires, by which means the people thought they were sure of a plentiful harvest. shouts and screams of those who had to face the ordeal could be heard ever so far, and those who chanced to pick the oatmeal portions sang and danced and clapped their hands in approval, as the holders of the brown bits leaped three times over the flames, or ran three times between the two fires. as a rule, no danger attended these curious celebrations, but occasionally somebody's clothes caught fire, which was quickly put out. the greatest fire of the year was the eve of may, or may first, second, or third. the midsummer eve fire was more for the harvest. very often a fire was built on the eve of november. the high ground near the castle ditches at llantwit major, in the vale of glamorgan, was a familiar spot for the beltane on may third and on midsummer eve.... sometimes the beltane fire was lighted by the flames produced by stone instead of wood friction. charred logs and faggots used in the may beltane were carefully preserved, and from them the next fire was lighted. may fires were always started with old faggots of the previous year, and midsummer from those of the last summer. it was unlucky to build a midsummer fire from may faggots. people carried the ashes left after these fires to their homes, and a charred brand was not only effectual against pestilence, but magical in its use. a few of the ashes placed in a person's shoes protected the wearer from any great sorrow or woe."[ ] [welsh belief that passage over or between the fires ensured good crops.] from the foregoing account we learn that bonfires were kindled in wales on midsummer eve and hallowe'en (the thirty-first of october), as well as at the beginning of may, but that the beltane fires in may were deemed the most important. to the midsummer eve and hallowe'en fires we shall return presently. the belief of the people that by leaping thrice over the bonfires or running thrice between them they ensured a plentiful harvest is worthy of note. the mode in which this result was supposed to be brought about is indicated by another writer on welsh folk-lore, according to whom it used to be held that "the bonfires lighted in may or midsummer protected the lands from sorcery, so that good crops would follow. the ashes were also considered valuable as charms."[ ] hence it appears that the heat of the fires was thought to fertilize the fields, not directly by quickening the seeds in the ground, but indirectly by counteracting the baleful influence of witchcraft or perhaps by burning up the persons of the witches. [beltane fires in the isle of man to burn the witches; beltane fires in nottinghamshire.] "the druidical anniversary of beil or baal is still celebrated in the isle of man. on the first of may, , the baal fires were, as usual on that day, so numerous as to give the island the appearance of a general conflagration."[ ] by may day in manx folk-lore is meant may day old style, or _shenn laa boaldyn_, as it is called in manx. the day was one on which the power of elves and witches was particularly dreaded, and the people resorted to many precautions in order to protect themselves against these mischievous beings. hence at daybreak they set fire to the ling or gorse, for the purpose of burning out the witches, who are wont to lurk in the form of hares.[ ] on the hemlock stone, a natural pillar of sandstone standing on stapleford hill in nottinghamshire, a fire used to be solemnly kindled every year on beltane eve. the custom seems to have survived down to the beginning of the nineteenth century; old people could remember and describe the ceremony long after it had fallen into desuetude.[ ] [beltane fires in ireland.] the beltane fires appear to have been kindled also in ireland, for cormac, "or somebody in his name, says that _belltaine_, may-day, was so called from the 'lucky fire,' or the 'two fires,' which the druids of erin used to make on that day with great incantations; and cattle, he adds, used to be brought to those fires, or to be driven between them, as a safeguard against the diseases of the year."[ ] again, a very ancient irish poem, enumerating the may day celebrations, mentions among them a bonfire on a hill (_tendal ar cnuc_); and another old authority says that these fires were kindled in the name of the idol-god bel.[ ] from an old life of st. patrick we learn that on a day in spring the heathen of ireland were wont to extinguish all their fires until a new fire was kindled with solemn ceremony in the king's house at tara. in the year in which st. patrick landed in ireland it chanced that the night of the extinguished fires coincided with the eve of easter; and the saint, ignorant of this pagan superstition, resolved to celebrate his first easter in ireland after the true christian fashion by lighting the holy paschal fire on the hill of slane, which rises high above the left bank of the boyne, about twelve miles from the mouth of the river. so that night, looking from his palace at tara across the darkened landscape, the king of tara saw the solitary fire flaring on the top of the hill of slane, and in consternation he asked his wise men what that light meant. they warned him of the danger that it betokened for the ancient faith of erin.[ ] in spite of the difference of date between easter and beltane, we may suspect that the new fire annually kindled with solemn ceremony about easter in the king of ireland's palace at tara was no other than the beltane fire. we have seen that in the highlands of scotland down to modern times it was customary to extinguish all fires in the neighbourhood before proceeding to kindle the sacred flame.[ ] the irish historian geoffrey keating, who wrote in the first part of the seventeenth century, tells us that the men of ireland held a great fair every year in the month of may at uisnech (_ushnagh_) in the county of meath, "and at it they were wont to exchange their goods and their wares and their jewels. at it, they were, also, wont to make a sacrifice to the arch-god that they adored, whose name was bèl (_bayl_). it was, likewise, their usage to light two fires to bèl, in every district of ireland, at this season, and to drive a pair of each kind of cattle that the district contained, between those two fires, as a preservative to guard them against all the diseases of that year. it is from that fire, thus made in honour of bèl, that the day [the first of may] on which the noble feast of the apostles, philip and james, is held, has been called bèltaini, or bèaltaine (_bayltinnie_); for beltaini is the same as bèil-teinè, i.e. teiné bhèil (_tinnie vayl_) or bèl's fire."[ ] the custom of driving cattle through or between fires on may day or the eve of may day persisted in ireland down to a time within living memory. thus sir john rhys was informed by a manxman that an irish cattle-dealer of his acquaintance used to drive his cattle through fire on may day so as to singe them a little, since he believed that it would preserve them from harm. when the manxman was asked where the dealer came from, he answered, "from the mountains over there," pointing to the mourne mountains then looming faintly in the mists on the western horizon.[ ] [fires on the eve of may day in sweden; fires on the eve of may day in austria and saxony for the purpose of burning the witches.] the first of may is a great popular festival in the more midland and southern parts of sweden. on the eve of the festival, huge bonfires, which should be lighted by striking two flints together, blaze on all the hills and knolls. every large hamlet has its own fire, round which the young people dance in a ring. the old folk notice whether the flames incline to the north or to the south. in the former case, the spring will be cold and backward; in the latter, it will be mild and genial.[ ] similarly, in bohemia, on the eve of may day, young people kindle fires on hills and eminences, at crossways, and in pastures, and dance round them. they leap over the glowing embers or even through the flames. the ceremony is called "burning the witches." in some places an effigy representing a witch used to be burnt in the bonfire.[ ] we have to remember that the eve of may day is the notorious walpurgis night, when the witches are everywhere speeding unseen through the air on their hellish errands. on this witching night children in voigtland also light bonfires on the heights and leap over them. moreover, they wave burning brooms or toss them into the air. so far as the light of the bonfire reaches, so far will a blessing rest on the fields. the kindling of the fires on walpurgis night is called "driving away the witches."[ ] the custom of kindling fires on the eve of may day (walpurgis night) for the purpose of burning the witches is, or used to be, widespread in the tyrol, moravia, saxony and silesia.[ ] § . _the midsummer fires_ [the great season for fire-festivals in europe is the summer solstice, midsummer eve or midsummer day, which the church has dedicated to st. john the baptist; the bonfires, the torches, and the burning wheels of the festival.] but the season at which these fire-festivals have been mostly generally held all over europe is the summer solstice, that is midsummer eve (the twenty-third of june) or midsummer day (the twenty-fourth of june). a faint tinge of christianity has been given to them by naming midsummer day after st. john the baptist, but we cannot doubt that the celebration dates from a time long before the beginning of our era. the summer solstice, or midsummer day, is the great turning-point in the sun's career, when, after climbing higher and higher day by day in the sky, the luminary stops and thenceforth retraces his steps down the heavenly road. such a moment could not but be regarded with anxiety by primitive man so soon as he began to observe and ponder the courses of the great lights across the celestial vault; and having still to learn his own powerlessness in face of the vast cyclic changes of nature, he may have fancied that he could help the sun in his seeming decline--could prop his failing steps and rekindle the sinking flame of the red lamp in his feeble hand. in some such thoughts as these the midsummer festivals of our european peasantry may perhaps have taken their rise. whatever their origin, they have prevailed all over this quarter of the globe, from ireland on the west to russia on the east, and from norway and sweden on the north to spain and greece on the south.[ ] according to a mediæval writer, the three great features of the midsummer celebration were the bonfires, the procession with torches round the fields, and the custom of rolling a wheel. he tells us that boys burned bones and filth of various kinds to make a foul smoke, and that the smoke drove away certain noxious dragons which at this time, excited by the summer heat, copulated in the air and poisoned the wells and rivers by dropping their seed into them; and he explains the custom of trundling a wheel to mean that the sun, having now reached the highest point in the ecliptic, begins thenceforward to descend.[ ] [t. kirchmeyer's description of the midsummer festival.] a good general account of the midsummer customs, together with some of the reasons popularly alleged for observing them, is given by thomas kirchmeyer, a writer of the sixteenth century, in his poem _the popish kingdome_:-- "_then doth the joyfull feast of john the baptist take his turne, when bonfiers great with loftie flame, in every towne doe burne; and yong men round about with maides, doe daunce in every streete, with garlands wrought of motherwort, or else with vervain sweete, and many other flowres faire, with violets in their handes, whereas they all do fondly thinke, that whosoever standes, and thorow the flowres beholds the flame, his eyes shall feele no paine. when thus till night they daunced have, they through the fire amaine with striving mindes doe runne, and all their hearbes they cast therin, and then with wordes devout and prayers, they solemnely begin, desiring god that all their illes may there consumed bee, whereby they thinke through all that yeare from agues to be free. some others get a rotten wheele, all worne and cast aside, which covered round about with strawe, and tow, they closely hide: and caryed to some mountaines top, being all with fire light, they hurle it downe with violence, when darke appeares the night: resembling much the sunne, that from the heavens downe should fal, a straunge and monstrous sight it seemes, and fearfull to them all; but they suppose their mischiefes all are likewise throwne to hell, and that from harmes and daungers now, in safetie here they dwell_."[ ] from these general descriptions, which to some extent still hold good, or did so till lately, we see that the main features of the midsummer fire-festival resemble those which we have found to characterize the vernal festivals of fire. the similarity of the two sets of ceremonies will plainly appear from the following examples. [the midsummer fires in germany; the celebration at konz on the moselle: the rolling of a burning wheel down hill.] a writer of the first half of the sixteenth century informs us that in almost every village and town of germany public bonfires were kindled on the eve of st. john, and young and old, of both sexes, gathered about them and passed the time in dancing and singing. people on this occasion wore chaplets of mugwort and vervain, and they looked at the fire through bunches of larkspur which they held in their hands, believing that this would preserve their eyes in a healthy state throughout the year. as each departed, he threw the mugwort and vervain into the fire, saying, "may all my ill-luck depart and be burnt up with these."[ ] at lower konz, a village prettily situated on a hillside overlooking the moselle, in the midst of a wood of walnut-trees and fruit-trees, the midsummer festival used to be celebrated as follows. a quantity of straw was collected on the top of the steep stromberg hill. every inhabitant, or at least every householder, had to contribute his share of straw to the pile; a recusant was looked at askance, and if in the course of the year he happened to break a leg or lose a child, there was not a gossip in the village but knew the reason why. at nightfall the whole male population, men and boys, mustered on the top of the hill; the women and girls were not allowed to join them, but had to take up their position at a certain spring half-way down the slope. on the summit stood a huge wheel completely encased in some of the straw which had been jointly contributed by the villagers; the rest of the straw was made into torches. from each side of the wheel the axle-tree projected about three feet, thus furnishing handles to the lads who were to guide it in its descent. the mayor of the neighbouring town of sierck, who always received a basket of cherries for his services, gave the signal; a lighted torch was applied to the wheel, and as it burst into flame, two young fellows, strong-limbed and swift of foot, seized the handles and began running with it down the slope. a great shout went up. every man and boy waved a blazing torch in the air, and took care to keep it alight so long as the wheel was trundling down the hill. some of them followed the fiery wheel, and watched with amusement the shifts to which its guides were put in steering it round the hollows and over the broken ground on the mountainside. the great object of the young men who guided the wheel was to plunge it blazing into the water of the moselle; but they rarely succeeded in their efforts, for the vineyards which cover the greater part of the declivity impeded their progress, and the wheel was often burned out before it reached the river. as it rolled past the women and girls at the spring, they raised cries of joy which were answered by the men on the top of the mountain; and the shouts were echoed by the inhabitants of neighbouring villages who watched the spectacle from their hills on the opposite bank of the moselle. if the fiery wheel was successfully conveyed to the bank of the river and extinguished in the water, the people looked for an abundant vintage that year, and the inhabitants of konz had the right to exact a waggon-load of white wine from the surrounding vineyards. on the other hand, they believed that, if they neglected to perform the ceremony, the cattle would be attacked by giddiness and convulsions and would dance in their stalls.[ ] [the midsummer fires in bavaria; cattle driven through the fire; the new fire; omens of the harvest drawn from the fires; burning discs thrown into the air.] down at least to the middle of the nineteenth century the midsummer fires used to blaze all over upper bavaria. they were kindled especially on the mountains, but also far and wide in the lowlands, and we are told that in the darkness and stillness of night the moving groups, lit up by the flickering glow of the flames, presented an impressive spectacle. in some places the people shewed their sense of the sanctity of the fires by using for fuel the trees past which the gay procession had defiled, with fluttering banners, on corpus christi day. in others the children collected the firewood from door to door on the eve of the festival, singing their request for fuel at every house in doggerel verse. cattle were driven through the fire to cure the sick animals and to guard such as were sound against plague and harm of every kind throughout the year. many a householder on that day put out the fire on the domestic hearth and rekindled it by means of a brand taken from the midsummer bonfire. the people judged of the height to which the flax would grow in the year by the height to which the flames of the bonfire rose; and whoever leaped over the burning pile was sure not to suffer from backache in reaping the corn at harvest. but it was especially the practice for lovers to spring over the fire hand in hand, and the way in which each couple made the leap was the subject of many a jest and many a superstition. in one district the custom of kindling the bonfires was combined with that of lighting wooden discs and hurling them in the air after the manner which prevails at some of the spring festivals.[ ] in many parts of bavaria it was believed that the flax would grow as high as the young people leaped over the fire.[ ] in others the old folk used to plant three charred sticks from the bonfire in the fields, believing that this would make the flax grow tall.[ ] elsewhere an extinguished brand was put in the roof of the house to protect it against fire. in the towns about würzburg the bonfires used to be kindled in the market-places, and the young people who jumped over them wore garlands of flowers, especially of mugwort and vervain, and carried sprigs of larkspur in their hands. they thought that such as looked at the fire holding a bit of larkspur before their face would be troubled by no malady of the eyes throughout the year.[ ] further, it was customary at würzburg, in the sixteenth century, for the bishop's followers to throw burning discs of wood into the air from a mountain which overhangs the town. the discs were discharged by means of flexible rods, and in their flight through the darkness presented the appearance of fiery dragons.[ ] [the midsummer fires in swabia; omens drawn from the leaps over the fires; burning wheels rolled down hill; burning the angel-man at rottenburg.] in the valley of the lech, which divides upper bavaria from swabia, the midsummer customs and beliefs are, or used to be, very similar. bonfires are kindled on the mountains on midsummer day; and besides the bonfire a tall beam, thickly wrapt in straw and surmounted by a cross-piece, is burned in many places. round this cross as it burns the lads dance with loud shouts; and when the flames have subsided, the young people leap over the fire in pairs, a young man and a young woman together. if they escape unsmirched, the man will not suffer from fever, and the girl will not become a mother within the year. further, it is believed that the flax will grow that year as high as they leap over the fire; and that if a charred billet be taken from the fire and stuck in a flax-field it will promote the growth of the flax.[ ] similarly in swabia, lads and lasses, hand in hand, leap over the midsummer bonfire, praying that the hemp may grow three ells high, and they set fire to wheels of straw and send them rolling down the hill. among the places where burning wheels were thus bowled down hill at midsummer were the hohenstaufen mountains in wurtemberg and the frauenberg near gerhausen.[ ] at deffingen, in swabia, as the people sprang over the midsummer bonfire they cried out, "flax, flax! may the flax this year grow seven ells high!"[ ] at rottenburg in swabia, down to the year or , the festival was marked by some special features. about mid-day troops of boys went about the town begging for firewood at the houses. in each troop there were three leaders, one of whom carried a dagger, a second a paper banner, and a third a white plate covered with a white cloth. these three entered each house and recited verses, in which they expressed an intention of roasting martin luther and sending him to the devil; and for this meritorious service they expected to be paid, the contributions being received in the cloth-covered plate. in the evening they counted up their money and proceeded to "behead the angel-man." for this ceremony an open space was chosen, sometimes in the middle of the town. here a stake was thrust into the ground and straw wrapt about it, so as to make a rude effigy of human form with arms, head, and face. every boy brought a handful of nosegays and fastened them to the straw-man, who was thus enveloped in flowers. fuel was heaped about the stake and set on fire. when the angel-man, as the straw-effigy was called, blazed up, all the boys of the neighbourhood, who had gathered expectantly around, fell upon him with their wooden swords and hewed him to pieces. as soon as he had vanished in smoke and flame, the lads leaped backward and forward over the glowing embers, and later in the evening they feasted on the proceeds of their collection.[ ] here the angel-man burnt in the fire appears to be identified with martin luther, to whom, as we have seen, allusion was made during the house-to-house visitation. the identification was probably modern, for we may assume that the custom of burning an effigy in the midsummer bonfire is far older than the time of luther. [the midsummer fires in baden; omens drawn from leaps over the fires; burning discs thrown into the air; midsummer fires in alsace, lorraine, the eifel, the harz districts and thuringia; burning barrel swung round a pole.] in baden the children used to collect fuel from house to house for the midsummer bonfire on st. john's day; and lads and lasses leaped over the fire in couples. here, as elsewhere, a close connexion was traced between these bonfires and the harvest. in some places it was thought that those who leaped over the fires would not suffer from backache at reaping. sometimes, as the young folk sprang over the flames, they cried, "grow, that the hemp may be three ells high!" this notion that the hemp or the corn would grow as high as the flames blazed or as the people jumped over them, seems to have been widespread in baden. it was held that the parents of the young people who bounded highest over the fire would have the most abundant harvest; and on the other hand, if a man contributed nothing to the bonfire, it was imagined that there would be no blessing on his crops, and that his hemp in particular would never grow.[ ] in the neighbourhood of bühl and achern the st. john's fires were kindled on the tops of hills; only the unmarried lads of the village brought the fuel, and only the unmarried young men and women sprang through the flames. but most of the villagers, old and young, gathered round the bonfires, leaving a clear space for the leapers to take their run. one of the bystanders would call out the names of a pair of sweethearts; on which the two would step out from the throng, take each other by the hand, and leap high and lightly through the swirling smoke and flames, while the spectators watched them critically and drew omens of their married life from the height to which each of them bounded. such an invitation to jump together over the bonfire was regarded as tantamount to a public betrothal.[ ] near offenburg, in the black forest, on midsummer day the village boys used to collect faggots and straw on some steep and conspicuous height, and they spent some time in making circular wooden discs by slicing the trunk of a pine-tree across. when darkness had fallen, they kindled the bonfire, and then, as it blazed up, they lighted the discs at it, and, after swinging them to and fro at the end of a stout and supple hazel-wand, they hurled them one after the other, whizzing and flaming, into the air, where they described great arcs of fire, to fall at length, like shooting-stars, at the foot of the mountain.[ ] in many parts of alsace and lorraine the midsummer fires still blaze annually or did so not very many years ago.[ ] at speicher in the eifel, a district which lies on the middle rhine, to the west of coblentz, a bonfire used to be kindled in front of the village on st. john's day, and all the young people had to jump over it. those who failed to do so were not allowed to join the rest in begging for eggs from house to house. where no eggs were given, they drove a wedge into the keyhole of the door. on this day children in the eifel used also to gather flowers in the fields, weave them into garlands, and throw the garlands on the roofs or hang them on the doors of the houses. so long as the flowers remained there, they were supposed to guard the house from fire and lightning.[ ] in the southern harz district and in thuringia the midsummer or st. john's fires used to be commonly lighted down to about the middle of the nineteenth century, and the custom has probably not died out. at edersleben, near sangerhausen, a high pole was planted in the ground and a tar-barrel was hung from it by a chain which reached to the ground. the barrel was then set on fire and swung round the pole amid shouts of joy.[ ] [midsummer fires kindled by the friction of wood in germany and switzerland; driving away demons and witches.] according to one account, german tradition required that the midsummer fire should be lighted, not from a common hearth, but by the friction of two sorts of wood, namely oak and fir.[ ] in some old farm-houses of the surenthal and winenthal, in switzerland, a couple of holes or a whole row of them may be seen facing each other in the door-posts of the barn or stable. sometimes the holes are smooth and round; sometimes they are deeply burnt and blackened. the explanation of them is this. about midsummer, but especially on midsummer day, two such holes are bored opposite each other, into which the extremities of a strong pole are fixed. the holes are then stuffed with tow steeped in resin and oil; a rope is looped round the pole, and two young men, who must be brothers or must have the same baptismal name, and must be of the same age, pull the ends of the rope backwards and forwards so as to make the pole revolve rapidly, till smoke and sparks issue from the two holes in the door-posts. the sparks are caught and blown up with tinder, and this is the new and pure fire, the appearance of which is greeted with cries of joy. heaps of combustible materials are now ignited with the new fire, and blazing bundles are placed on boards and sent floating down the brook. the boys light torches at the new fire and run to fumigate the pastures. this is believed to drive away all the demons and witches that molest the cattle. finally the torches are thrown in a heap on the meadow and allowed to burn out. on their way back the boys strew the ashes over the fields, which is supposed to make them fertile. if a farmer has taken possession of a new house, or if servants have changed masters, the boys fumigate the new abode and are rewarded by the farmer with a supper.[ ] [midsummer fires in silesia; scaring away the witches.] in silesia, from the south-eastern part of the sudeten range and north-westward as far as lausitz, the mountains are ablaze with bonfires on midsummer eve; and from the valleys and the plains round about leobschütz, neustadt, zülz, oels, and other places answering fires twinkle through the deepening gloom. while they are smouldering and sending forth volumes of smoke across the fields, young men kindle broom-stumps, soaked in pitch, at the bonfires and then, brandishing the stumps, which emit showers of sparks, they chase one another or dance with the girls round the burning pile. shots, too, are fired, and shouts raised. the fire, the smoke, the shots, and the shouts are all intended to scare away the witches, who are let loose on this witching day, and who would certainly work harm to the crops and the cattle, if they were not deterred by these salutary measures. mere contact with the fire brings all sorts of blessings. hence when the bonfire is burning low, the lads leap over it, and the higher they bound, the better is the luck in store for them. he who surpasses his fellows is the hero of the day and is much admired by the village girls. it is also thought to be very good for the eyes to stare steadily at the bonfire without blinking; moreover he who does so will not drowse and fall asleep betimes in the long winter evenings. on midsummer eve the windows and doors of houses in silesia are crowned with flowers, especially with the blue cornflowers and the bright corn-cockles; in some villages long strings of garlands and nosegays are stretched across the streets. the people believe that on that night st. john comes down from heaven to bless the flowers and to keep all evil things from house and home.[ ] [the midsummer fires in denmark and norway; keeping off the witches; the midsummer fires in sweden.] in denmark and norway also midsummer fires were kindled on st. john's eve on roads, open spaces, and hills. people in norway thought that the fires banished sickness from among the cattle.[ ] even yet the fires are said to be lighted all over norway on the night of june the twenty-third, midsummer eve, old style. as many as fifty or sixty bonfires may often be counted burning on the hills round bergen. sometimes fuel is piled on rafts, ignited, and allowed to drift blazing across the fiords in the darkness of night. the fires are thought to be kindled in order to keep off the witches, who are said to be flying from all parts that night to the blocksberg, where the big witch lives.[ ] in sweden the eve of st. john (st. hans) is the most joyous night of the whole year. throughout some parts of the country, especially in the provinces of bohus and scania and in districts bordering on norway, it is celebrated by the frequent discharge of firearms and by huge bonfires, formerly called balder's balefires (_balder's balar_), which are kindled at dusk on hills and eminences and throw a glare of light over the surrounding landscape. the people dance round the fires and leap over or through them. in parts of norrland on st. john's eve the bonfires are lit at the cross-roads. the fuel consists of nine different sorts of wood, and the spectators cast into the flames a kind of toad-stool (_bäran_) in order to counteract the power of the trolls and other evil spirits, who are believed to be abroad that night; for at that mystic season the mountains open and from their cavernous depths the uncanny crew pours forth to dance and disport themselves for a time. the peasants believe that should any of the trolls be in the vicinity they will shew themselves; and if an animal, for example a he or she goat, happens to be seen near the blazing, crackling pile, the peasants are firmly persuaded that it is no other than the evil one in person.[ ] further, it deserves to be remarked that in sweden st. john's eve is a festival of water as well as of fire; for certain holy springs are then supposed to be endowed with wonderful medicinal virtues, and many sick people resort to them for the healing of their infirmities.[ ] [the midsummer fires in switzerland and austria; effigies burnt in the fires; burning wheels rolled down hill.] in switzerland on midsummer eve fires are, or used to be, kindled on high places in the cantons of bern, neuchatel, valais, and geneva.[ ] in austria the midsummer customs and superstitions resemble those of germany. thus in some parts of the tyrol bonfires are kindled and burning discs hurled into the air.[ ] in the lower valley of the inn a taterdemalian effigy is carted about the village on midsummer day and then burned. he is called the _lotter_, which has been corrupted into luther. at ambras, one of the villages where martin luther is thus burned in effigy, they say that if you go through the village between eleven and twelve on st. john's night and wash yourself in three wells, you will see all who are to die in the following year.[ ] at gratz on st. john's eve (the twenty-third of june) the common people used to make a puppet called the _tatermann_, which they dragged to the bleaching ground, and pelted with burning besoms till it took fire.[ ] at reutte, in the tyrol, people believed that the flax would grow as high as they leaped over the midsummer bonfire, and they took pieces of charred wood from the fire and stuck them in their flax-fields the same night, leaving them there till the flax harvest had been got in.[ ] in lower austria fires are lit in the fields, commonly in front of a cross, and the people dance and sing round them and throw flowers into the flames. before each handful of flowers is tossed into the fire, a set speech is made; then the dance is resumed and the dancers sing in chorus the last words of the speech. at evening bonfires are kindled on the heights, and the boys caper round them, brandishing lighted torches drenched in pitch. whoever jumps thrice across the fire will not suffer from fever within the year. cart-wheels are often smeared with pitch, ignited, and sent rolling and blazing down the hillsides.[ ] [midsummer fires in bohemia; wreaths thrown across the fire; uses made of the singed wreaths; burning wheels rolled down hill; embers of the fire stuck in fields, gardens, and houses as a talisman against lightning and conflagration; use of mugwort; cattle protected against witchcraft.] all over bohemia bonfires still burn on midsummer eve. in the afternoon boys go about with handcarts from house to house collecting fuel, such as sticks, brushwood, old besoms, and so forth. they make their request at each house in rhyming verses, threatening with evil consequences the curmudgeons who refuse them a dole. sometimes the young men fell a tall straight fir in the woods and set it up on a height, where the girls deck it with nosegays, wreaths of leaves, and red ribbons. then brushwood is piled about it, and at nightfall the whole is set on fire. while the flames break out, the young men climb the tree and fetch down the wreaths which the girls had placed on it. after that, lads and lasses stand on opposite sides of the fire and look at one another through the wreaths to see whether they will be true to each other and marry within the year. also the girls throw the wreaths across the flames to the men, and woe to the awkward swain who fails to catch the wreath thrown him by his sweetheart. when the blaze has died down, each couple takes hands, and leaps thrice across the fire. he or she who does so will be free from ague throughout the year, and the flax will grow as high as the young folks leap. a girl who sees nine bonfires on midsummer eve will marry before the year is out. the singed wreaths are carried home and carefully preserved throughout the year. during thunderstorms a bit of the wreath is burned on the hearth with a prayer; some of it is given to kine that are sick or calving, and some of it serves to fumigate house and cattle-stall, that man and beast may keep hale and well. sometimes an old cartwheel is smeared with resin, ignited, and sent rolling down the hill. often the boys collect all the worn-out besoms they can get hold of, dip them in pitch, and having set them on fire wave them about or throw them high into the air. or they rush down the hillside in troops, brandishing the flaming brooms and shouting, only however to return to the bonfire on the summit when the brooms have burnt out. the stumps of the brooms and embers from the fire are preserved and stuck in cabbage gardens to protect the cabbages from caterpillars and gnats. some people insert charred sticks and ashes from the bonfire in their sown fields and meadows, in their gardens and the roofs of their houses, as a talisman against lightning and foul weather; or they fancy that the ashes placed in the roof will prevent any fire from breaking out in the house. in some districts they crown or gird themselves with mugwort while the midsummer fire is burning, for this is supposed to be a protection against ghosts, witches, and sickness; in particular, a wreath of mugwort is a sure preventive of sore eyes. sometimes the girls look at the bonfires through garlands of wild flowers, praying the fire to strengthen their eyes and eyelids. she who does this thrice will have no sore eyes all that year. in some parts of bohemia they used to drive the cows through the midsummer fire to guard them against witchcraft.[ ] [the midsummer fires in moravia, austrian silesia, and the district of cracow; fire kindled by the friction of wood.] the germans of moravia in like manner still light bonfires on open grounds and high places on midsummer eve; and they kindle besoms in the flames and then stick the charred stumps in the cabbage-fields as a powerful protection against caterpillars. on the same mystic evening moravian girls gather flowers of nine sorts and lay them under their pillow when they go to sleep; then they dream every one of him who is to be her partner for life. for in moravia maidens in their beds as well as poets by haunted streams have their midsummer night's dreams.[ ] in austrian silesia the custom also prevails of lighting great bonfires on hilltops on midsummer eve, and here too the boys swing blazing besoms or hurl them high in the air, while they shout and leap and dance wildly. next morning every door is decked with flowers and birchen saplings.[ ] in the district of cracow, especially towards the carpathian mountains, great fires are kindled by the peasants in the fields or on the heights at nightfall on midsummer eve, which among them goes by the name of kupalo's night. the fire must be kindled by the friction of two sticks. the young people dance round or leap over it; and a band of sturdy fellows run a race with lighted torches, the winner being rewarded with a peacock's feather, which he keeps throughout the year as a distinction. cattle also are driven round the fire in the belief that this is a charm against pestilence and disease of every sort.[ ] [the midsummer fires among the slavs of russia; cattle protected against witchcraft; the fires lighted by the friction of wood.] the name of kupalo's night, applied in this part of galicia to midsummer eve, reminds us that we have now passed from german to slavonic ground; even in bohemia the midsummer celebration is common to slavs and germans. we have already seen that in russia the summer solstice or eve of st. john is celebrated by young men and maidens, who jump over a bonfire in couples carrying a straw effigy of kupalo in their arms.[ ] in some parts of russia an image of kupalo is burnt or thrown into a stream on st. john's night.[ ] again, in some districts of russia the young folk wear garlands of flowers and girdles of holy herbs when they spring through the smoke or flames; and sometimes they drive the cattle also through the fire in order to protect the animals against wizards and witches, who are then ravenous after milk.[ ] in little russia a stake is driven into the ground on st. john's night, wrapt in straw, and set on fire. as the flames rise the peasant women throw birchen boughs into them, saying, "may my flax be as tall as this bough!"[ ] in ruthenia the bonfires are lighted by a flame procured by the friction of wood. while the elders of the party are engaged in thus "churning" the fire, the rest maintain a respectful silence; but when the flame bursts from the wood, they break forth into joyous songs. as soon as the bonfires are kindled, the young people take hands and leap in pairs through the smoke, if not through the flames; and after that the cattle in their turn are driven through the fire.[ ] [the midsummer fires in prussia and lithuania thought to protect against witchcraft, thunder, hail, and cattle disease; the fire kindled by the friction of wood.] in many parts of prussia and lithuania great fires are kindled on midsummer eve. all the heights are ablaze with them, as far as the eye can see. the fires are supposed to be a protection against witchcraft, thunder, hail, and cattle disease, especially if next morning the cattle are driven over the places where the fires burned. above all, the bonfires ensure the farmer against the arts of witches, who try to steal the milk from his cows by charms and spells. that is why next morning you may see the young fellows who lit the bonfire going from house to house and receiving jugfuls of milk. and for the same reason they stick burs and mugwort on the gate or the hedge through which the cows go to pasture, because that is supposed to be a preservative against witchcraft.[ ] in masuren, a district of eastern prussia inhabited by a branch of the polish family, it is the custom on the evening of midsummer day to put out all the fires in the village. then an oaken stake is driven into the ground and a wheel is fixed on it as on an axle. this wheel the villagers, working by relays, cause to revolve with great rapidity till fire is produced by friction. every one takes home a lighted brand from the new fire and with it rekindles the fire on the domestic hearth.[ ] in the sixteenth century martin of urzedow, a polish priest, denounced the heathen practices of the women who on st. john's eve (midsummer eve) kindled fires by the friction of wood, danced, and sang songs in honour of the devil.[ ] [the midsummer fires among the letts of russia; midsummer day in ancient rome.] among the letts who inhabit the baltic provinces of russia the most joyful festival of the year is held on midsummer day. the people drink and dance and sing and adorn themselves and their houses with flowers and branches. chopped boughs of fir are strewn about the rooms, and leaves are stuck in the roofs. in every farm-yard a birch tree is set up, and every person of the name of john who enters the farm that day must break off a twig from the tree and hang up on its branches in return a small present for the family. when the serene twilight of the summer night has veiled the landscape, bonfires gleam on all the hills, and wild shouts of "ligho! ligho!" echo from the woods and fields. in riga the day is a festival of flowers. from all the neighbourhood the peasants stream into the city laden with flowers and garlands. a market of flowers is held in an open square and on the chief bridge over the river; here wreaths of immortelles, which grow wild in the meadows and woods, are sold in great profusion and deck the houses of riga for long afterwards. roses, too, are now at the prime of their beauty, and masses of them adorn the flower-stalls. till far into the night gay crowds parade the streets to music or float on the river in gondolas decked with flowers.[ ] so long ago in ancient rome barges crowned with flowers and crowded with revellers used to float down the tiber on midsummer day, the twenty-fourth of june,[ ] and no doubt the strains of music were wafted as sweetly across the water to listeners on the banks as they still are to the throngs of merrymakers at riga. [the midsummer fires among the south slavs.] bonfires are commonly kindled by the south slavonian peasantry on midsummer eve, and lads and lasses dance and shout round them in the usual way. the very names of st. john's day (_ivanje_) and the st. john's fires (_kries_) are said to act like electric sparks on the hearts and minds of these swains, kindling a thousand wild, merry, and happy fancies and ideas in their rustic breasts. at kamenagora in croatia the herdsmen throw nine three-year old vines into the bonfire, and when these burst into flames the young men who are candidates for matrimony jump through the blaze. he who succeeds in leaping over the fire without singeing himself will be married within the year. at vidovec in croatia parties of two girls and one lad unite to kindle a midsummer bonfire and to leap through the flames; he or she who leaps furthest will soonest wed. afterwards lads and lasses dance in separate rings, but the ring of lads bumps up against the ring of girls and breaks it, and the girl who has to let go her neighbour's hand will forsake her true love hereafter.[ ] in servia on midsummer eve herdsmen light torches of birch bark and march round the sheepfolds and cattle-stalls; then they climb the hills and there allow the torches to burn out.[ ] [the midsummer fires among the magyars of hungary.] among the magyars in hungary the midsummer fire-festival is marked by the same features that meet us in so many parts of europe. on midsummer eve in many places it is customary to kindle bonfires on heights and to leap over them, and from the manner in which the young people leap the bystanders predict whether they will marry soon. at nograd-ludany the young men and women, each carrying a truss of straw, repair to a meadow, where they pile the straw in seven or twelve heaps and set it on fire. then they go round the fire singing, and hold a bunch of iron-wort in the smoke, while they say, "no boil on my body, no sprain in my foot!" this holding of the flowers over the flames is regarded, we are told, as equally important with the practice of walking through the fire barefoot and stamping it out. on this day also many hungarian swineherds make fire by rotating a wheel round a wooden axle wrapt in hemp, and through the fire thus made they drive their pigs to preserve them from sickness.[ ] in villages on the danube, where the population is a cross between magyar and german, the young men and maidens go to the high banks of the river on midsummer eve; and while the girls post themselves low down the slope, the lads on the height above set fire to little wooden wheels and, after swinging them to and fro at the end of a wand, send them whirling through the air to fall into the danube. as he does so, each lad sings out the name of his sweetheart, and she listens well pleased down below.[ ] [the midsummer fires among the esthonians; the midsummer fires in oesel.] the esthonians of russia, who, like the magyars, belong to the great turanian family of mankind, also celebrate the summer solstice in the usual way. on the eve of st. john all the people of a farm, a village, or an estate, walk solemnly in procession, the girls decked with flowers, the men with leaves and carrying bundles of straw under their arms. the lads carry lighted torches or flaming hoops steeped in tar at the top of long poles. thus they go singing to the cattle-sheds, the granaries, and so forth, and afterwards march thrice round the dwelling-house. finally, preceded by the shrill music of the bagpipes and shawms, they repair to a neighbouring hill, where the materials of a bonfire have been collected. tar-barrels filled with combustibles are hung on poles, or the trunk of a felled tree has been set up with a great mass of juniper piled about it in the form of a pyramid. when a light has been set to the pile, old and young gather about it and pass the time merrily with song and music till break of day. every one who comes brings fresh fuel for the fire, and they say, "now we all gather together, where st. john's fire burns. he who comes not to st. john's fire will have his barley full of thistles, and his oats full of weeds." three logs are thrown into the fire with special ceremony; in throwing the first they say, "gold of pleasure (a plant with yellow flowers) into the fire!" in throwing the second they say, "weeds to the unploughed land!" but in throwing the third they cry, "flax on my field!" the fire is said to keep the witches from the cattle.[ ] according to others, it ensures that for the whole year the milk shall be "as pure as silver and as the stars in the sky, and the butter as yellow as the sun and the fire and the gold."[ ] in the esthonian island of oesel, while they throw fuel into the midsummer fire, they call out, "weeds to the fire, flax to the field," or they fling three billets into the flames, saying, "flax grow long!" and they take charred sticks from the bonfire home with them and keep them to make the cattle thrive. in some parts of the island the bonfire is formed by piling brushwood and other combustibles round a tree, at the top of which a flag flies. whoever succeeds in knocking down the flag with a pole before it begins to burn will have good luck. formerly the festivities lasted till daybreak, and ended in scenes of debauchery which looked doubly hideous by the growing light of a summer morning.[ ] [the midsummer fires among the finns and cheremiss of russia.] still farther north, among a people of the same turanian stock, we learn from an eye-witness that midsummer night used to witness a sort of witches' sabbath on the top of every hill in finland. the bonfire was made by setting up four tall birches in a square and piling the intermediate space with fuel. round the roaring flames the people sang and drank and gambolled in the usual way.[ ] farther east, in the valley of the volga, the cheremiss celebrate about midsummer a festival which haxthausen regarded as identical with the midsummer ceremonies of the rest of europe. a sacred tree in the forest, generally a tall and solitary oak, marks the scene of the solemnity. all the males assemble there, but no woman may be present. a heathen priest lights seven fires in a row from north-west to south-east; cattle are sacrificed and their blood poured in the fires, each of which is dedicated to a separate deity. afterwards the holy tree is illumined by lighted candles placed on its branches; the people fall on their knees and with faces bowed to the earth pray that god would be pleased to bless them, their children, their cattle, and their bees, grant them success in trade, in travel, and in the chase, enable them to pay the czar's taxes, and so forth.[ ] [the midsummer fires in france; bossuet on the midsummer festival.] when we pass from the east to the west of europe we still find the summer solstice celebrated with rites of the same general character. down to about the middle of the nineteenth century the custom of lighting bonfires at midsummer prevailed so commonly in france that there was hardly a town or a village, we are told, where they were not kindled.[ ] though the pagan origin of the custom may be regarded as certain, the catholic church threw a christian cloak over it by boldly declaring that the bonfires were lit in token of the general rejoicing at the birth of the baptist, who opportunely came into the world at the solstice of summer, just as his greater successor did at the solstice of winter; so that the whole year might be said to revolve on the golden hinges of these two great birthdays.[ ] writing in the seventeenth century bishop bossuet expressly affirms this edifying theory of the midsummer bonfires, and he tells his catechumens that the church herself participated in the illumination, since in several dioceses, including his own diocese of meaux, a number of parishes kindled what were called ecclesiastical fires for the purpose of banishing the superstitions practised at the purely mundane bonfires. these superstitions, he goes on to say, consisted in dancing round the fire, playing, feasting, singing ribald songs, throwing herbs across the fire, gathering herbs at noon or while fasting, carrying them on the person, preserving them throughout the year, keeping brands or cinders of the fire, and other similar practices.[ ] however excellent the intentions of the ecclesiastical authorities may have been, they failed of effecting their purpose; for the superstitions as well as the bonfires survived in france far into the nineteenth century, if indeed they are extinct even now at the beginning of the twentieth. writing in the latter part of the nineteenth century mr. ch. cuissard tells us that he himself witnessed in touraine and poitou the superstitious practices which he describes as follows: "the most credulous examine the ways in which the flame burns and draw good or bad omens accordingly. others, after leaping through the flames crosswise, pass their little children through them thrice, fully persuaded that the little ones will then be able to walk at once. in some places the shepherds make their sheep tread the embers of the extinct fire in order to preserve them from the foot-rot. here you may see about midnight an old woman grubbing among the cinders of the pyre to find the hair of the holy virgin or saint john, which she deems an infallible specific against fever. there, another woman is busy plucking the roots of the herbs which have been burned on the surface of the ground; she intends to eat them, imagining that they are an infallible preservative against cancer. elsewhere a girl wears on her neck a flower which the touch of st. john's fire has turned for her into a talisman, and she is sure to marry within the year. shots are fired at the tree planted in the midst of the fire to drive away the demons who might purpose to send sicknesses about the country. seats are set round about the bonfire, in order that the souls of dead relations may come and enjoy themselves for a little with the living."[ ] [the midsummer fires in brittany; uses made of the charred sticks and flowers.] in brittany, apparently, the custom of the midsummer bonfires is kept up to this day. thus in lower brittany every town and every village still lights its _tantad_ or bonfire on st. john's night. when the flames have died down, the whole assembly kneels round about the bonfire and an old man prays aloud. then they all rise and march thrice round the fire; at the third turn they stop and every one picks up a pebble and throws it on the burning pile. after that they disperse.[ ] in finistère the bonfires of st. john's day are kindled by preference in an open space near a chapel of st. john; but if there is no such chapel, they are lighted in the square facing the parish church and in some districts at cross-roads. everybody brings fuel for the fire, it may be a faggot, a log, a branch, or an armful of gorse. when the vespers are over, the parish priest sets a light to the pile. all heads are bared, prayers recited, and hymns sung. then the dancing begins. the young folk skip round the blazing pile and leap over it, when the flames have died down. if anybody makes a false step and falls or rolls in the hot embers, he or she is greeted with hoots and retires abashed from the circle of dancers. brands are carried home from the bonfire to protect the houses against lightning, conflagrations, and certain maladies and spells. the precious talisman is carefully kept in a cupboard till st. john's day of the following year.[ ] at quimper, and in the district of léon, chairs used to be placed round the midsummer bonfire, that the souls of the dead might sit on them and warm themselves at the blaze.[ ] at brest on this day thousands of people used to assemble on the ramparts towards evening and brandish lighted torches, which they swung in circles or flung by hundreds into the air. the closing of the town gates put an end to the spectacle, and the lights might be seen dispersing in all directions like wandering will-o'-the-wisps.[ ] in upper brittany the materials for the midsummer bonfires, which generally consist of bundles of furze and heath, are furnished by voluntary contributions, and piled on the tops of hills round poles, each of which is surmounted by a nosegay or a crown. this nosegay or crown is generally provided by a man named john or a woman named jean, and it is always a john or a jean who puts a light to the bonfire. while the fire is blazing the people dance and sing round it, and when the flames have subsided they leap over the glowing embers. charred sticks from the bonfire are thrown into wells to improve the water, and they are also taken home as a protection against thunder.[ ] to make them thoroughly effective, however, against thunder and lightning you should keep them near your bed, between a bit of a twelfth night cake and a sprig of boxwood which has been blessed on palm sunday.[ ] flowers from the nosegay or crown which overhung the fire are accounted charms against disease and pain, both bodily and spiritual; hence girls hang them at their breast by a thread of scarlet wool. in many parishes of brittany the priest used to go in procession with the crucifix and kindle the bonfire with his own hands; and farmers were wont to drive their flocks and herds through the fire in order to preserve them from sickness till midsummer of the following year. also it was believed that every girl who danced round nine of the bonfires would marry within the year.[ ] [the midsummer fires in normandy; the fires as a protection against witchcraft; the brotherhood of the green wolf at jumièges; pretence of throwing the green wolf into the fire.] in normandy the midsummer fires have now almost disappeared, at least in the district known as the bocage, but they used to shine on every hill. they were commonly made by piling brushwood, broom, and ferns about a tall tree, which was decorated with a crown of moss and sometimes with flowers. while they burned, people danced and sang round them, and young folk leaped over the flames or the glowing ashes. in the valley of the orne the custom was to kindle the bonfire just at the moment when the sun was about to dip below the horizon; and the peasants drove their cattle through the fires to protect them against witchcraft, especially against the spells of witches and wizards who attempted to steal the milk and butter.[ ] at jumièges in normandy, down to the first half of the nineteenth century, the midsummer festival was marked by certain singular features which bore the stamp of a very high antiquity. every year, on the twenty-third of june, the eve of st. john, the brotherhood of the green wolf chose a new chief or master, who had always to be taken from the hamlet of conihout. on being elected, the new head of the brotherhood assumed the title of the green wolf, and donned a peculiar costume consisting of a long green mantle and a very tall green hat of a conical shape and without a brim. thus arrayed he stalked solemnly at the head of the brothers, chanting the hymn of st. john, the crucifix and holy banner leading the way, to a place called chouquet. here the procession was met by the priest, precentors, and choir, who conducted the brotherhood to the parish church. after hearing mass the company adjourned to the house of the green wolf, where a simple repast, such as is required by the church on fast-days, was served up to them. then they danced before the door till it was time to light the bonfire. night being come, the fire was kindled to the sound of hand-bells by a young man and a young woman, both decked with flowers. as the flames rose, the _te deum_ was sung, and a villager thundered out a parody in the norman dialect of the hymn _ut queant laxis_. meantime the green wolf and his brothers, with their hoods down on their shoulders and holding each other by the hand, ran round the fire after the man who had been chosen to be the green wolf of the following year. though only the first and the last man of the chain had a hand free, their business was to surround and seize thrice the future green wolf, who in his efforts to escape belaboured the brothers with a long wand which he carried. when at last they succeeded in catching him they carried him to the burning pile and made as if they would throw him on it. this ceremony over, they returned to the house of the green wolf, where a supper, still of the most meagre fare, was set before them. up till midnight a sort of religious solemnity prevailed. no unbecoming word might fall from the lips of any of the company, and a censor, armed with a hand-bell, was appointed to mark and punish instantly any infraction of the rule. but at the stroke of twelve all this was changed. constraint gave way to license; pious hymns were replaced by bacchanalian ditties, and the shrill quavering notes of the village fiddle hardly rose above the roar of voices that went up from the merry brotherhood of the green wolf. next day, the twenty-fourth of june or midsummer day, was celebrated by the same personages with the same noisy gaiety. one of the ceremonies consisted in parading, to the sound of musketry, an enormous loaf of consecrated bread, which, rising in tiers, was surmounted by a pyramid of verdure adorned with ribbons. after that the holy handbells, deposited on the step of the altar, were entrusted as insignia of office to the man who was to be the green wolf next year.[ ] [the midsummer fires in picardy.] in the canton of breteuil in picardy (department of oise) the priest used to kindle the midsummer bonfire, and the people marched thrice round it in procession. some of them took ashes of the fire home with them to protect the houses against lightning.[ ] the custom is, or was down to recent years, similar at vorges, near laon. an enormous pyre, some fifty or sixty feet high, supported in the middle by a tall pole, is constructed every year on the twenty-third of june, the eve of st. john. it stands at one end of the village, and all the inhabitants contribute fuel to it: a cart goes round the village in the morning, by order of the mayor, collecting combustibles from house to house: no one would dream of refusing to comply with the customary obligation. in the evening, after a service in honour of st. john has been performed in the church, the clergy, the mayor, the municipal authorities, the rural police, and the fire-brigade march in procession to the bonfire, accompanied by the inhabitants and a crowd of idlers drawn by curiosity from the neighbouring villages. after addressing the throng in a sermon, to which they pay little heed, the parish priest sprinkles the pyre with holy water, and taking a lighted torch from the hand of an assistant sets fire to the pile. the enormous blaze, flaring up against the dark sky of the summer night, is seen for many miles around, particularly from the hill of laon. when it has died down into a huge heap of glowing embers and grey ashes, every one carries home a charred stick or some cinders; and the fire-brigade, playing their hose on what remains, extinguishes the smouldering fire. the people preserve the charred sticks and cinders throughout the year, believing that these relics of st john's bonfire have power to guard them from lightning and from contagious diseases.[ ] at château-thierry, a town of the department of aisne, between paris and reims, the custom of lighting bonfires and dancing round them at the midsummer festival of st. john lasted down to about ; the fires were kindled especially when june had been rainy, and the people thought that the lighting of the bonfires would cause the rain to cease.[ ] [the midsummer fires in beauce and perche; the fires as a protection against witchcraft.] in beauce and perche, two neighbouring districts of france to the south-west of paris, the midsummer bonfires have nearly or wholly disappeared, but formerly they were commonly kindled and went by the name of the "fires of st. john." the site of the bonfire was either the village square or beside the cross in the cemetery. here a great pile of faggots, brushwood, and grass was accumulated about a huge branch, which bore at the top a crown of fresh flowers. the priest blessed the bonfire and the people danced round it. when it blazed and crackled, the bystanders thrust their heads into the puffs of smoke, in the belief that it would preserve them from a multitude of ills; and when the fire was burnt out, they rushed upon the charred embers and ashes and carried them home, imagining that they had a secret virtue to guard their houses from being struck by lightning or consumed by fire. some of the perche farmers in the old days, not content with the public bonfire, used to light little private bonfires in their farmyards and make all their cattle pass through the smoke and flames for the purpose of protecting them against witchcraft or disease.[ ] [the midsummer fires in the ardennes, the vosges, and the jura; the midsummer fires in franche-comté; the midsummer fires in berry and other parts of central france.] in the department of the ardennes every one was wont to contribute his faggot to the midsummer bonfire, and the clergy marched at the head of the procession to kindle it. failure to light the fires would, in the popular belief, have exposed the fields to the greatest danger. at revin the young folk, besides dancing round the fire to the strains of the village fiddler, threw garlands of flowers across the flames to each other.[ ] in the vosges it is still customary to kindle bonfires upon the hill-tops on midsummer eve; the people believe that the fires help to preserve the fruits of the earth and ensure good crops.[ ] in the jura mountains the midsummer bonfires went by the name of _bâ_ or _beau_. they were lit on the most conspicuous points of the landscape.[ ] near st. jean, in the jura, it appears that at this season young people still repair to the cross-roads and heights, and there wave burning torches so as to present the appearance of fiery wheels in the darkness.[ ] in franche-comté, the province of france which lies immediately to the west of the jura mountains, the fires of st. john still shone on the saint's day in several villages down to recent years. they were generally lit on high ground and the young folks of both sexes sang and danced round them, and sprang over the dying flames.[ ] in bresse bonfires used to be kindled on midsummer eve (the twenty-third of june) and the people danced about them in a circle. devout persons, particularly old women, circumambulated the fires fourteen times, telling their beads and mumbling seven _paters_ and seven _aves_ in the hope that thereby they would feel no pains in their backs when they stooped over the sickle in the harvest field.[ ] in berry, a district of central france, the midsummer fire was lit on the eve of st. john and went by the name of the _jônée, joannée_, or _jouannée_. every family according to its means contributed faggots, which were piled round a pole on the highest ground in the neighbourhood. in the hamlets the office of kindling the fire devolved on the oldest man, but in the towns it was the priest or the mayor who discharged the duty. here, as in brittany, people supposed that a girl who had danced round nine of the midsummer bonfires would marry within the year. to leap several times over the fire was regarded as a sort of purification which kept off sickness and brought good luck to the leaper. hence the nimble youth bounded through the smoke and flames, and when the fire had somewhat abated parents jumped across it with their children in their arms in order that the little ones might also partake of its beneficent influence. embers from the extinct bonfire were taken home, and after being dipped in holy water were kept as a talisman against all kinds of misfortune, but especially against lightning.[ ] the same virtue was ascribed to the ashes and charred sticks of the midsummer bonfire in périgord, where everybody contributed his share of fuel to the pile and the whole was crowned with flowers, especially with roses and lilies.[ ] on the borders of the departments of creuse and corrèze, in central france, the fires of st. john used to be lit on the eve of the saint's day (the twenty-third of june); the custom seems to have survived till towards the end of the nineteenth century. men, women, and children assembled round the fires, and the young people jumped over them. children were brought by their parents or elder brothers into contact with the flames in the belief that this would save them from fever. older people girded themselves with stalks of rye taken from a neighbouring field, because they fancied that by so doing they would not grow weary in reaping the corn at harvest.[ ] [the midsummer fires in poitou.] bonfires were lit in almost all the hamlets of poitou on the eve of st. john. people marched round them thrice, carrying a branch of walnut in their hand. shepherdesses and children passed sprigs of mullein (_verbascum_) and nuts across the flames; the nuts were supposed to cure toothache, and the mullein to protect the cattle from sickness and sorcery. when the fire died down people took some of the ashes home with them, either to keep them in the house as a preservative against thunder or to scatter them on the fields for the purpose of destroying corn-cockles and darnel. stones were also placed round the fire, and it was believed that the first to lift one of these stones next morning would find under it the hair of st. john.[ ] in poitou also it used to be customary on the eve of st. john to trundle a blazing wheel wrapt in straw over the fields to fertilize them.[ ] this last custom is said to be now extinct,[ ] but it is still usual, or was so down to recent years, in poitou to kindle fires on this day at cross-roads or on the heights. the oldest or youngest person present sets a light to the pile, which consists of broom, gorse, and heath. a bright and crackling blaze shoots up, but soon dies down, and over it the young folk leap. they also throw stones into it, picking the stone according to the size of the turnips that they wish to have that year. it is said that "the good virgin" comes and sits on the prettiest of the stones, and next morning they see there her beautiful golden tresses. at lussac, in poitou, the lighting of the midsummer bonfire is still an affair of some ceremony. a pyramid of faggots is piled round a tree or tall pole on the ground where the fair is held; the priest goes in procession to the spot and kindles the pile. when prayers have been said and the clergy have withdrawn, the people continue to march round the fire, telling their beads, but it is not till the flames have begun to die down that the youth jump over them. a brand from the midsummer bonfire is supposed to be a preservative against thunder.[ ] [the midsummer fires in the departments of vienne and deux-sèvres and in the provinces of saintonge and aunis.] in the department of vienne the bonfire was kindled by the oldest man, and before the dance round the flames began it was the custom to pass across them a great bunch of mullein (_bouillon blanc_) and a branch of walnut, which next morning before sunrise were fastened over the door of the chief cattle-shed.[ ] a similar custom prevailed in the neighbouring department of deux-sèvres; but here it was the priest who kindled the bonfire, and old men used to put embers of the fire in their wooden shoes as a preservative against many evils.[ ] in some towns and villages of saintonge and aunis, provinces of western france now mostly comprised in the department of charente inférieure, the fires of st. john are still kindled on midsummer eve, but the custom is neither so common nor carried out with so much pomp and ceremony as formerly. great quantities of wood used to be piled on an open space round about a huge post or a tree stripped of its leaves and branches. every one took care to contribute a faggot to the pile, and the whole population marched to the spot in procession with the crucifix at their head and the priest bringing up the rear. the squire, or other person of high degree, put the torch to the pyre, and the priest blessed it. in the southern and eastern parts of saintonge children and cattle were passed through the smoke of the bonfires to preserve them from contagious diseases, and when the fire had gone out the people scuffled for the charred fragments of the great post, which they regarded as talismans against thunder. next morning, on midsummer day, every shepherdess in the neighbourhood was up very early, for the first to drive her sheep over the blackened cinders and ashes of the great bonfire was sure to have the best flock all that year. where the shepherds shrunk from driving their flocks through the smoke and flames of the bonfire they contented themselves with marking the hinder-quarters of the animals with a broom which had been blackened in the ashes.[ ] [the midsummer fires in southern france; midsummer festival of fire and water in provence; bathing in the sea at midsummer; temporary midsummer kings at aix and marseilles.] in the mountainous part of comminges, a province of southern france, now comprised in the department of haute garonne, the midsummer fire is made by splitting open the trunk of a tall tree, stuffing the crevice with shavings, and igniting the whole. a garland of flowers is fastened to the top of the tree, and at the moment when the fire is lighted the man who was last married has to climb up a ladder and bring the flowers down. in the flat parts of the same district the materials of the midsummer bonfires consist of fuel piled in the usual way; but they must be put together by men who have been married since the last midsummer festival, and each of these benedicts is obliged to lay a wreath of flowers on the top of the pile.[ ] at the entrance of the valley of aran young people set up on the banks of the garonne a tree covered with ribbons and garlands; at the end of a year the withered tree and faded flowers furnish excellent fuel. so on the eve of st. john the villagers assemble, and an old man or a child kindles the fire which is to consume tree and garlands together. while the blaze lasts the people sing and dance; and the burnt tree is then replaced by another which will suffer the same fate after the lapse of a year.[ ] in some districts of the french pyrenees it is deemed necessary to leap nine times over the midsummer fire if you would be assured of prosperity.[ ] a traveller in southern france at the beginning of the nineteenth century tells us that "the eve of st. john is also a day of joy for the provençals. they light great fires and the young folk leap over them. at aix they shower squibs and crackers on the passers-by, which has often had disagreeable consequences. at marseilles they drench each other with scented water, which is poured from the windows or squirted from little syringes; the roughest jest is to souse passers-by with clean water, which gives rise to loud bursts of laughter."[ ] at draguignan, in the department of var, fires used to be lit in every street on the eve of st. john, and the people roasted pods of garlic at them; the pods were afterwards distributed to every family. another diversion of the evening was to pour cans of water from the houses on the heads of people in the streets.[ ] in provence the midsummer fires are still popular. children go from door to door begging for fuel, and they are seldom sent empty away. formerly the priest, the mayor, and the aldermen used to walk in procession to the bonfire, and even deigned to light it; after which the assembly marched thrice round the burning pile, while the church bells pealed and rockets fizzed and sputtered in the air. dancing began later, and the bystanders threw water on each other. at ciotat, while the fire was blazing, the young people plunged into the sea and splashed each other vigorously. at vitrolles they bathed in a pond in order that they might not suffer from fever during the year, and at saintes-maries they watered the horses to protect them from the itch.[ ] at aix a nominal king, chosen from among the youth for his skill in shooting at a popinjay, presided over the festival. he selected his own officers, and escorted by a brilliant train marched to the bonfire, kindled it, and was the first to dance round it. next day he distributed largesse to his followers. his reign lasted a year, during which he enjoyed certain privileges. he was allowed to attend the mass celebrated by the commander of the knights of st. john on st. john's day: the right of hunting was accorded to him; and soldiers might not be quartered in his house. at marseilles also on this day one of the guilds chose a king of the _badache_ or double axe; but it does not appear that he kindled the bonfire, which is said to have been lighted with great ceremony by the préfet and other authorities.[ ] [the midsummer fires in belgium; bonfires on st. peter's day in brabant; the king and queen of the roses; effigies burnt in the midsummer fires.] in belgium the custom of kindling the midsummer bonfires has long disappeared from the great cities, but it is still kept up in rural districts and small towns of brabant, flanders, and limburg. people leap across the fires to protect themselves against fever, and in eastern flanders women perform similar leaps for the purpose of ensuring an easy delivery. at termonde young people go from door to door collecting fuel for the fires and reciting verses, in which they beg the inmates to give them "wood of st. john" and to keep some wood for st. peter's day (the twenty-ninth of june); for in belgium the eve of st. peter's day is celebrated by bonfires and dances exactly like those which commemorate st. john's eve. the ashes of the st. john's fires are deemed by belgian peasants an excellent remedy for consumption, if you take a spoonful or two of them, moistened with water, day by day. people also burn vervain in the fires, and they say that in the ashes of the plant you may find, if you look for it, the "fool's stone."[ ] in many parts of brabant st. peter's bonfire used to be much larger than that of his rival st. john. when it had burned out, both sexes engaged in a game of ball, and the winner became the king of summer or of the ball and had the right to choose his queen. sometimes the winner was a woman, and it was then her privilege to select her royal mate. this pastime was well known at louvain and it continued to be practised at grammont and mespelaer down to the second half of the nineteenth century. at mespelaer, which is a village near termonde, a huge pile of eglantine, reeds, and straw was collected in a marshy meadow for the bonfire; and next evening after vespers the young folk who had lit it assembled at the "good life" tavern to play the game. the winner was crowned with a wreath of roses, and the rest danced and sang in a ring about him. at grammont, while the bonfire was lit and the dances round it took place on st. peter's eve, the festival of the "crown of roses" was deferred till the following sunday. the young folk arranged among themselves beforehand who should be king and queen of the roses: the rosy wreaths were hung on cords across the street: the dancers danced below them, and at a given moment the wreaths fell on the heads of the chosen king and queen, who had to entertain their fellows at a feast. according to some people the fires of st. peter, like those of st. john, were lighted in order to drive away dragons.[ ] in french flanders down to a straw figure representing a man was always burned in the midsummer bonfire, and the figure of a woman was burned on st. peter's day.[ ] in belgium people jump over the midsummer bonfires as a preventive of colic, and they keep the ashes at home to hinder fire from breaking out.[ ] [the midsummer fires in england; stow's description of the midsummer fires in london; the midsummer fires at eton.] the custom of lighting bonfires at midsummer has been observed in many parts of our own country. "on the vigil of saint john the baptist, commonly called midsummer eve, it was usual in most country places, and also in towns and cities, for the inhabitants, both old and young, and of both sexes, to meet together, and make merry by the side of a large fire made in the middle of the street, or in some open and convenient place, over which the young men frequently leaped by way of frolic, and also exercised themselves with various sports and pastimes, more especially with running, wrestling, and dancing. these diversions they continued till midnight, and sometimes till cock-crowing."[ ] in the streets of london the midsummer fires were lighted in the time of queen elizabeth down to the end of the sixteenth century, as we learn from stow's description, which runs thus: "in the months of june and july, on the vigils of festival days, and on the same festival days in the evenings after the sun setting, there were usually made bonfires in the streets, every man bestowing wood or labour towards them; the wealthier sort also, before their doors near to the said bonfires, would set out tables on the vigils furnished with sweet bread and good drink, and on the festival days with meats and drinks plentifully, whereunto they would invite their neighbours and passengers also to sit and be merry with them in great familiarity, praising god for his benefits bestowed on them. these were called bonfires as well of good amity amongst neighbours that being before at controversy, were there, by the labour of others, reconciled, and made of bitter enemies loving friends; and also for the virtue that a great fire hath to purge the infection of the air. on the vigil of st. john the baptist, and on st. peter and paul the apostles, every man's door being shadowed with green birch, long fennel, st john's wort, orpin, white lilies, and such like, garnished upon with garlands of beautiful flowers, had also lamps of glass, with oil burning in them all the night; some hung out branches of iron curiously wrought, containing hundreds of lamps alight at once, which made a goodly show, namely, in new fish street, thames street, etc."[ ] in the sixteenth century the eton boys used to kindle a bonfire on the east side of the church both on st john's day and on st. peter's day.[ ] writing in the second half of the seventeenth century, the antiquary john aubrey tells us that bonfires were still kindled in many places on st. john's night, but that the civil wars had thrown many of these old customs out of fashion. wars, he adds, extinguish superstition as well as religion and laws, and there is nothing like gunpowder for putting phantoms to flight.[ ] [the midsummer fires in the north of england; the midsummer fires in northumberland.] in the north of england these fires used to be lit in the open streets. young and old gathered round them, and while the young leaped over the fires and engaged in games, their elders looked on and probably remembered with regret the days when they used to foot it as nimbly. sometimes the fires were kindled on the tops of high hills. the people also carried firebrands about the fields.[ ] the custom of kindling bonfires on midsummer eve prevailed all over cumberland down to the second half of the eighteenth century.[ ] in northumberland the custom seems to have lasted into the first quarter of the nineteenth century; the fires were lit in the villages and on the tops of high hills, and the people sported and danced round them.[ ] moreover, the villagers used to run with burning brands round their fields and to snatch ashes from a neighbour's fire, saying as they did so, "we have the flower (or flour) of the wake."[ ] at sandhill bonfires were kindled on the eve of st. peter as well as on midsummer eve; the custom is attested for the year , when it was described as ancient.[ ] we are told that "on midsummer's eve, reckoned according to the old style, it was formerly the custom of the inhabitants, young and old, not only of whalton, but of most of the adjacent villages, to collect a large cartload of whins and other combustible materials, which was dragged by them with great rejoicing (a fiddler being seated on the top of the cart) into the village and erected into a pile. the people from the surrounding country assembled towards evening, when it was set on fire; and whilst the young danced around it, the elders looked on smoking their pipes and drinking their beer, until it was consumed. there can be little doubt that this curious old custom dates from a very remote antiquity." in a law-suit, which was tried in , the rector of whalton gave evidence of the constant use of the village green for the ceremony since . "the bonfire," he said, "was lighted a little to the north-east of the well at whalton, and partly on the footpath, and people danced round it and jumped through it. that was never interrupted." the rev. g.r. hall, writing in , says that "the fire festivals or bonfires of the summer solstice at the old midsummer until recently were commemorated on christenburg crags and elsewhere by leaping through and dancing round the fires, as those who have been present have told me."[ ] down to the early part of the nineteenth century bonfires called beal-fires used to be lit on midsummer eve all over the wolds in the east riding of yorkshire.[ ] [the midsummer fires in herefordshire, somersetshire, devonshire, and cornwall; the cornish fires on midsummer eve and st. peter's eve.] in herefordshire and somersetshire the peasants used to make fires in the fields on midsummer eve "to bless the apples."[ ] in devonshire the custom of leaping over the midsummer fires was also observed.[ ] "in cornwall, the festival fires, called bonfires, are kindled on the eves of st. john baptist and st. peter's day; and midsummer is thence, in the cornish tongue, called _goluan_, which signifies both light and rejoicing. at these fires the cornish attend with lighted torches, tarred and pitched at the end, and make their perambulations round their fires, going from village to village and carrying their torches before them; this is certainly the remains of druid superstition; for, _faces praeferre_, to carry lighted torches was reckoned a kind of gentilism, and as such particularly prohibited by the gallick councils."[ ] at penzance and elsewhere in the county the people danced and sang about the bonfires on midsummer eve. on whiteborough, a large tumulus near launceston, a huge bonfire used to be kindled on midsummer eve; a tall summer pole with a large bush at the top was fixed in the centre of the bonfire.[ ] the cornish fires at this season appear to have been commonly lit on high and conspicuous hills, such as tregonan, godolphin, carnwarth, and cam brea. when it grew dusk on midsummer eve, old men would hobble away to some height whence they counted the fires and drew a presage from their number.[ ] "it is the immemorial usage in penzance, and the neighbouring towns and villages, to kindle bonfires and torches on midsummer-eve; and on midsummer-day to hold a fair on penzance quay, where the country folks assemble from the adjoining parishes in great numbers to make excursions on the water. st. peter's eve (the twenty-eighth of june) is distinguished by a similar display of bonfires and torches, although the 'quay-fair' on st. peter's-day (the twenty-ninth of june), has been discontinued upwards of forty years. on these eves a line of tar-barrels, relieved occasionally by large bonfires, is seen in the centre of each of the principal streets in penzance. on either side of this line young men and women pass up and down, swinging round their heads heavy torches made of large pieces of folded canvas steeped in tar, and nailed to the ends of sticks between three and four feet long; the flames of some of these almost equal those of the tar-barrels. rows of lighted candles, also, when the air is calm, are fixed outside the windows or along the sides of the streets. in st. just, and other mining parishes, the young miners, mimicking their fathers' employments, bore rows of holes in the rocks, load them with gunpowder, and explode them in rapid succession by trains of the same substance. as the holes are not deep enough to split the rocks, the same little batteries serve for many years. on these nights, mount's bay has a most animating appearance, although not equal to what was annually witnessed at the beginning of the present century, when the whole coast, from the land's end to the lizard, wherever a town or a village existed, was lighted up with these stationary or moving fires. in the early part of the evening, children may be seen wearing wreaths of flowers--a custom in all probability originating from the ancient use of these ornaments when they danced around the fires. at the close of the fireworks in penzance, a great number of persons of both sexes, chiefly from the neighbourhood of the quay, used always, until within the last few years, to join hand in hand, forming a long string, and run through the streets, playing 'thread the needle,' heedless of the fireworks showered upon them, and oftentimes leaping over the yet glowing embers. i have on these occasions seen boys following one another, jumping through flames higher than themselves."[ ] [the midsummer fires in wales and the isle of man; burning wheel rolled down hill.] in wales the midsummer fires were kindled on st. john's eve and on st. john's day. three or nine different kinds of wood and charred faggots carefully preserved from the last midsummer were deemed necessary to build the bonfire, which was generally done on rising ground. various herbs were thrown into the blaze; and girls with bunches of three or nine different kinds of flowers would take the hands of boys, who wore flowers in their buttonholes and hats, and together the young couples would leap over the fires. on the same two midsummer days roses and wreaths of flowers were hung over the doors and windows. "describing a midsummer fire, an old inhabitant, born in , remembered being taken to different hills in the vale of glamorgan to see festivities in which people from all parts of the district participated. she was at that time about fourteen, and old enough to retain a vivid recollection of the circumstances. people conveyed trusses of straw to the top of the hill, where men and youths waited for the contributions. women and girls were stationed at the bottom of the hill. then a large cart-wheel was thickly swathed with straw, and not an inch of wood was left in sight. a pole was inserted through the centre of the wheel, so that long ends extended about a yard on each side. if any straw remained, it was made up into torches at the top of tall sticks. at a given signal the wheel was lighted, and sent rolling downhill. if this fire-wheel went out before it reached the bottom of the hill, a very poor harvest was promised. if it kept lighted all the way down, and continued blazing for a long time, the harvest would be exceptionally abundant. loud cheers and shouts accompanied the progress of the wheel."[ ] at darowen in wales small bonfires were kindled on midsummer eve.[ ] on the same day people in the isle of man were wont to light fires to the windward of every field, so that the smoke might pass over the corn; and they folded their cattle and carried blazing furze or gorse round them several times.[ ] [the midsummer fires in ireland; passage of people and cattle through the fires; cattle driven through the fire; ashes used to fertilize the fields; the white horse at the midsummer fire.] a writer of the last quarter of the seventeenth century tells us that in ireland, "on the eves of st. john baptist and st. peter, they always have in every town a bonfire, late in the evenings, and carry about bundles of reeds fast tied and fired; these being dry, will last long, and flame better than a torch, and be a pleasing divertive prospect to the distant beholder; a stranger would go near to imagine the whole country was on fire."[ ] another writer says of the south of ireland: "on midsummer's eve, every eminence, near which is a habitation, blazes with bonfires; and round these they carry numerous torches, shouting and dancing, which affords a beautiful sight."[ ] an author who described ireland in the first quarter of the eighteenth century says: "on the vigil of st. john the baptist's nativity, they make bonfires, and run along the streets and fields with wisps of straw blazing on long poles to purify the air, which they think infectious, by believing all the devils, spirits, ghosts, and hobgoblins fly abroad this night to hurt mankind."[ ] another writer states that he witnessed the festival in ireland in : "at the house where i was entertained, it was told me, that we should see, at midnight, the most singular sight in ireland, which was the lighting of fires in honour of the sun. accordingly, exactly at midnight, the fires began to appear; and taking the advantage of going up to the leads of the house, which had a widely extended view, i saw on a radius of thirty miles, all around, the fires burning on every eminence which the country afforded. i had a farther satisfaction in learning, from undoubted authority, that the people danced round the fires, and at the close went through these fires, and made their sons and daughters, together with their cattle, pass through the fire; and the whole was conducted with religious solemnity."[ ] that the custom prevailed in full force as late as appears from a notice in a newspaper of that date, which runs thus: "the old pagan fire-worship still survives in ireland, though nominally in honour of st. john. on sunday night bonfires were observed throughout nearly every county in the province of leinster. in kilkenny, fires blazed on every hillside at intervals of about a mile. there were very many in the queen's county, also in kildare and wexford. the effect in the rich sunset appeared to travellers very grand. the people assemble, and dance round the fires, the children jump through the flames, and in former times live coals were carried into the corn-fields to prevent blight."[ ] in county leitrim on st. john's eve, which is called bonfire day, fires are still lighted after dusk on the hills and along the sides of the roads.[ ] all over kerry the same thing continues to be done, though not so commonly as of old. small fires were made across the road, and to drive through them brought luck for the year. cattle were also driven through the fires. on lettermore island, in south connemara, some of the ashes from the midsummer bonfire are thrown on the fields to fertilize them.[ ] one writer informs us that in munster and connaught a bone must always be burned in the fire; for otherwise the people believe that the fire will bring no luck. he adds that in many places sterile beasts and human beings are passed through the fire, and that as a boy he himself jumped through the fire "for luck."[ ] an eye-witness has described as follows a remarkable ceremony observed in ireland on midsummer eve: "when the fire burned for some hours, and got low, an indispensable part of the ceremony commenced. every one present of the peasantry passed through it, and several children were thrown across the sparkling embers; while a wooden frame, of some eight feet long, with a horse's head fixed to one end, and a large white sheet thrown over it concealing the wood and the man on whose head it was carried, made its appearance. this was greeted with loud shouts of 'the white horse!' and having been safely carried by the skill of its bearer several times through the fire with a bold leap, it pursued the people, who ran screaming and laughing in every direction. i asked what the horse was meant for, and was told that it represented 'all cattle.'"[ ] [lady wilde's account of the midsummer fires in ireland.] lady wilde's account of the midsummer festival in ireland is picturesque and probably correct in substance, although she does not cite her authorities. as it contains some interesting features which are not noticed by the other writers on ireland whom i have consulted, i will quote the greater part of it in full. "in ancient times," she says, "the sacred fire was lighted with great ceremony on midsummer eve; and on that night all the people of the adjacent country kept fixed watch on the western promontory of howth, and the moment the first flash was seen from that spot the fact of ignition was announced with wild cries and cheers repeated from village to village, when all the local fires began to blaze, and ireland was circled by a cordon of flame rising up from every hill. then the dance and song began round every fire, and the wild hurrahs filled the air with the most frantic revelry. many of these ancient customs are still continued, and the fires are still lighted on st. john's eve on every hill in ireland. when the fire has burned down to a red glow the young men strip to the waist and leap over or through the flames; this is done backwards and forwards several times, and he who braves the greatest blaze is considered the victor over the powers of evil, and is greeted with tremendous applause. when the fire burns still lower, the young girls leap the flame, and those who leap clean over three times back and forward will be certain of a speedy marriage and good luck in after-life, with many children. the married women then walk through the lines of the burning embers; and when the fire is nearly burnt and trampled down, the yearling cattle are driven through the hot ashes, and their back is singed with a lighted hazel twig. these rods are kept safely afterwards, being considered of immense power to drive the cattle to and from the watering places. as the fire diminishes the shouting grows fainter, and the song and the dance commence; while professional story-tellers narrate tales of fairy-land, or of the good old times long ago, when the kings and princes of ireland dwelt amongst their own people, and there was food to eat and wine to drink for all comers to the feast at the king's house. when the crowd at length separate, every one carries home a brand from the fire, and great virtue is attached to the lighted _brone_ which is safely carried to the house without breaking or falling to the ground. many contests also arise amongst the young men; for whoever enters his house first with the sacred fire brings the good luck of the year with him."[ ] [holy water resorted to on midsummer eve in ireland.] in ireland, as elsewhere, water was also apparently thought to acquire a certain mystical virtue at midsummer. "at stoole, near downpatrick, there is a ceremony commencing at twelve o'clock at night on midsummer eve. its sacred mount is consecrated to st. patrick; the plain contains three wells, to which the most extraordinary virtues are attributed. here and there are heaps of stones, around some of which appear great numbers of people, running with as much speed as possible; around others crowds of worshippers kneel with bare legs and feet as an indispensable part of the penance. the men, without coats, with handkerchiefs on their heads instead of hats, having gone seven times round each heap, kiss the ground, cross themselves, and proceed to the hill; here they ascend, on their bare knees, by a path so steep and rugged that it would be difficult to walk up. many hold their hands clasped at the back of their necks, and several carry large stones on their heads. having repeated this ceremony seven times, they go to what is called st. patrick's chair, which are two great flat stones fixed upright in the hill; here they cross and bless themselves as they step in between these stones, and, while repeating prayers, an old man, seated for the purpose, turns them round on their feet three times, for which he is paid; the devotee then goes to conclude his penance at a pile of stones, named the altar. while this busy scene is continued by the multitude, the wells and streams issuing from them are thronged by crowds of halt, maimed, and blind, pressing to wash away their infirmities with water consecrated by their patron saint, and so powerful is the impression of its efficacy on their minds, that many of those who go to be healed, and who are not totally blind, or altogether crippled, really believe for a time that they are by means of its miraculous virtues perfectly restored."[ ] [the midsummer fires in scotland; fires on st. peter's day (the twenty-ninth of june).] in scotland the traces of midsummer fires are few. we are told by a writer of the eighteenth century that "the midsummer-even fire, a relict of druidism," was kindled in some parts of the county of perth.[ ] another writer of the same period, describing what he calls the druidical festivals of the highlanders, says that "the least considerable of them is that of midsummer. in the highlands of perthshire there are some vestiges of it. the cowherd goes three times round the fold, according to the course of the sun, with a burning torch in his hand. they imagined this rite had a tendency to purify their herds and flocks, and to prevent diseases. at their return the landlady makes an entertainment for the cowherd and his associates."[ ] in the northeast of scotland, down to the latter half of the eighteenth century, farmers used to go round their lands with burning torches about the middle of june.[ ] on the hill of cairnshee, in the parish of durris, kincardineshire, the herdsmen of the country round about annually kindle a bonfire at sunset on midsummer day (the twenty-fourth of june); the men or lads collect the fuel and push each other through the smoke and flames. the custom is kept up through the benefaction of a certain alexander hogg, a native of the parish, who died about and left a small sum for the maintenance of a midsummer bonfire on the spot, because as a boy he had herded cattle on the hill. we may conjecture that in doing so he merely provided for the continuance of an old custom which he himself had observed in the same place in his youth.[ ] at the village of tarbolton in ayrshire a bonfire has been annually kindled from time immemorial on the evening of the first monday after the eleventh of june. a noted cattle-market was formerly held at the fair on the following day. the bonfire is still lit at the gloaming by the lads and lasses of the village on a high mound or hillock just outside of the village. fuel for it is collected by the lads from door to door. the youth dance round the fire and leap over the fringes of it. the many cattle-drovers who used to assemble for the fair were wont to gather round the blazing pile, smoke their pipes, and listen to the young folk singing in chorus on the hillock. afterwards they wrapped themselves in their plaids and slept round the bonfire, which was intended to last all night.[ ] thomas moresin of aberdeen, a writer of the sixteenth century, says that on st. peter's day, which is the twenty-ninth of june, the scotch ran about at night with lighted torches on mountains and high grounds, "as ceres did when she roamed the whole earth in search of proserpine";[ ] and towards the end of the eighteenth century the parish minister of loudoun, a district of ayrshire whose "bonny woods and braes" have been sung by burns, wrote that "the custom still remains amongst the herds and young people to kindle fires in the high grounds in honour of beltan. _beltan_, which in gaelic signifies _baal_, or _bel's-fire_, was antiently the time of this solemnity. it is now kept on st. peter's day."[ ] [the midsummer fires in spain and the azores; divination on midsummer eve in the azores; the midsummer fires in corsica and sardinia.] all over spain great bonfires called _lumes_ are still lit on midsummer eve. they are kept up all night, and the children leap over them in a certain rhythmical way which is said to resemble the ancient dances. on the coast, people at this season plunge into the sea; in the inland districts the villagers go and roll naked in the dew of the meadows, which is supposed to be a sovereign preservative against diseases of the skin. on this evening, too, girls who would pry into the future put a vessel of water on the sill outside their window; and when the clocks strike twelve, they break an egg in the water and see, or fancy they see, in the shapes assumed by the pulp, as it blends with the liquid, the likeness of future bridegrooms, castles, coffins, and so forth. but generally, as might perhaps have been anticipated, the obliging egg exhibits the features of a bridegroom.[ ] in the azores, also, bonfires are lit on midsummer eve (st. john's eve), and boys jump over them for luck. on that night st. john himself is supposed to appear in person and bless all the seas and waters, driving out the devils and demons who had been disporting themselves in them ever since the second day of november; that is why in the interval between the second of november and the twenty-third of june nobody will bathe in the sea or in a hot spring. on midsummer eve, too, you can always see the devil, if you will go into a garden at midnight. he is invariably found standing near a mustard-plant. his reason for adopting this posture has not been ascertained; perhaps in the chilly air of the upper world he is attracted by the genial warmth of the mustard. various forms of divination are practised by people in the azores on midsummer eve. thus a new-laid egg is broken into a glass of water, and the shapes which it assumes foreshadow the fate of the person concerned. again, seven saucers are placed in a row, filled respectively with water, earth, ashes, keys, a thimble, money, and grass, which things signify travel, death, widowhood, housekeeping, spinsterhood, riches, and farming. a blindfolded person touches one or other of the saucers with a wand and so discovers his or her fate. again, three broad beans are taken; one is left in its skin, one is half peeled, and the third is peeled outright. the three denote respectively riches, competence, and poverty. they are hidden and searched for; and he who finds one of them knows accordingly whether he will be rich, moderately well-off, or poor. again, girls take slips of paper and write the names of young men twice over on them. these they fold up and crumple and place one set under their pillows and the other set in a saucer full of water. in the morning they draw one slip of paper from under their pillow, and see whether one in the water has opened out. if the names on the two slips are the same, it is the name of her future husband. young men do the same with girls' names. once more, if a girl rises at sunrise, goes out into the street, and asks the first passer-by his christian name, that will be her husband's name.[ ] some of these modes of divination resemble those which are or used to be practised in scotland at hallowe'en.[ ] in corsica on the eve of st. john the people set fire to the trunk of a tree or to a whole tree, and the young men and maidens dance round the blaze, which is called _fucaraia_.[ ] we have seen that at ozieri, in sardinia, a great bonfire is kindled on st. john's eve, and that the young people dance round it.[ ] [the midsummer fires in the abruzzi; bathing on midsummer eve in the abruzzi; the midsummer fires in sicily; the witches at midsummer.] passing to italy, we find that the midsummer fires are still lighted on st. john's eve in many parts of the abruzzi. they are commonest in the territory which was inhabited in antiquity by the vestini; they are rarer in the land of the ancient marsi, and they disappear entirely in the lower valley of the sangro. for the most part, the fires are fed with straw and dry grass, and are kindled in the fields near the villages or on high ground. as they blaze up, the people dance round or over them. in leaping across the flames the boys cry out, "st. john, preserve my thighs and legs!" formerly it used to be common to light the bonfires also in the towns in front of churches of st. john, and the remains of the sacred fire were carried home by the people; but this custom has mostly fallen into disuse. however, at celano the practice is still kept up of taking brands and ashes from the bonfires to the houses, although the fires are no longer kindled in front of the churches, but merely in the streets.[ ] in the abruzzi water also is supposed to acquire certain marvellous and beneficent properties on st. john's night. hence many people bathe or at least wash their faces and hands in the sea or a river at that season, especially at the moment of sunrise. such a bath is said to be an excellent cure for diseases of the skin. at castiglione a casauria the people, after washing in the river or in springs, gird their waists and wreath their brows with sprigs of briony in order to keep them from aches and pains.[ ] in various parts of sicily, also, fires are kindled on midsummer eve (st. john's eve), the twenty-third of june. on the madonie mountains, in the north of the island, the herdsmen kindle them at intervals, so that the crests of the mountains are seen ablaze in the darkness for many miles. about acireale, on the east coast of the island, the bonfires are lit by boys, who jump over them. at chiaromonte the witches that night acquire extraordinary powers; hence everybody then puts a broom outside of his house, because a broom is an excellent protective against witchcraft.[ ] at orvieto the midsummer fires were specially excepted from the prohibition directed against bonfires in general.[ ] [the midsummer fires in malta ] in malta also the people celebrate midsummer eve (st. john's eve) "by kindling great fires in the public streets, and giving their children dolls to carry in their arms on this day, in order to make good the prophecy respecting the baptist, _multi in nativitate ejus gaudebunt_. days and even weeks before this festival, groups of children are seen going out into the country fields to gather straw, twigs, and all sorts of other combustibles, which they store up for st. john's eve. on the night of the twenty-third of june, the day before the festival of the saint, great fires are kindled in the streets, squares, and market places of the towns and villages of the island, and as fire after fire blazes out of the darkness of that summer night, the effect is singularly striking. these fires are sometimes kept up for hours, being continually fed by the scores of bystanders, who take great delight in throwing amidst the flames some old rickety piece of furniture which they consider as lumber in their houses. lots of happy and reckless children, and very often men, are seen merrily leaping in succession over and through the crackling flames. at the time of the order of st. john of jerusalem, the grand master himself, soon after the _angelus_, used to leave his palace, accompanied by the grand prior, the bishop, and two bailiffs, to set fire to some pitch barrels which were placed for the occasion in the square facing the sacred hospital. great crowds used to assemble here in order to assist at this ceremony. the setting ablaze of the five casks, and later on of the eight casks, by the grand master, was a signal for the others to kindle their fires in the different parts of the town."[ ] [the midsummer fires in greece; the midsummer fires in macedonia and albania.] in greece, the custom of kindling fires on st. john's eve and jumping over them is said to be still universal. one reason assigned for it is a wish to escape from the fleas.[ ] according to another account, the women cry out, as they leap over the fire, "i leave my sins behind me."[ ] in lesbos the fires on st. john's eve are usually lighted by threes, and the people spring thrice over them, each with a stone on his head, saying, "i jump the hare's fire, my head a stone!" on the morning of st. john's day those who dwell near the coast go to bathe in the sea. as they go they gird themselves with osiers, and when they are in the water they let the osiers float away, saying, "let my maladies go away!" then they look for what is called "the hairy stone," which possesses the remarkable property not only of keeping moths from clothes but even of multiplying the clothes in the chest where it is laid up, and the more hairs on the stone the more will the clothes multiply in the chest.[ ] in calymnos the midsummer fire is supposed to ensure abundance in the coming year as well as deliverance from fleas. the people dance round the fires singing, with stones on their heads, and then jump over the blaze or the glowing embers. when the fire is burning low, they throw the stones into it; and when it is nearly out, they make crosses on their legs and then go straightway and bathe in the sea.[ ] in cos the lads and lasses dance round the bonfires on st. john's eve. each of the lads binds a black stone on his head, signifying that he wishes to become as strong as the stone. also they make the sign of the cross on their feet and legs and jump over the fire.[ ] on midsummer eve the greeks of macedonia light fires after supper in front of their gates. the garlands, now faded, which were hung over the doors on may day, are taken down and cast into the flames, after which the young folk leap over the blaze, fully persuaded that st. john's fire will not burn them.[ ] in albania fires of dry herbage are, or used to be, lit everywhere on st. john's eve; young and old leap over them, for such a leap is thought to be good for the health.[ ] [the midsummer fires in america.] from the old world the midsummer fires have been carried across the atlantic to america. in brazil people jump over the fires of st. john, and at this season they can take hot coals in their mouths without burning themselves.[ ] in bolivia on the eve of st. john it is usual to see bonfires lighted on the hills and even in the streets of the capital la paz. as the city stands at the bottom of an immense ravine, and the indians of the neighbourhood take a pride in kindling bonfires on heights which might seem inaccessible, the scene is very striking when the darkness of night is suddenly and simultaneously lit up by hundreds of fires, which cast a glare on surrounding objects, producing an effect at once weird and picturesque.[ ] [the midsummer fires among the mohammedans of morocco and algeria.] the custom of kindling bonfires on midsummer day or on midsummer eve is widely spread among the mohammedan peoples of north africa, particularly in morocco and algeria; it is common both to the berbers and to many of the arabs or arabic-speaking tribes. in these countries midsummer day (the twenty-fourth of june, old style) is called [arabic: _l'ansara_]. the fires are lit in the courtyards, at cross-roads, in the fields, and sometimes on the threshing-floors. plants which in burning give out a thick smoke and an aromatic smell are much sought after for fuel on these occasions; among the plants used for the purpose are giant-fennel, thyme, rue, chervil-seed, camomile, geranium, and penny-royal. people expose themselves, and especially their children, to the smoke, and drive it towards the orchards and the crops. also they leap across the fires; in some places everybody ought to repeat the leap seven times. moreover they take burning brands from the fires and carry them through the houses in order to fumigate them. they pass things through the fire, and bring the sick into contact with it, while they utter prayers for their recovery. the ashes of the bonfires are also reputed to possess beneficial properties; hence in some places people rub their hair or their bodies with them.[ ] for example, the andjra mountaineers of morocco kindle large fires in open places of their villages on midsummer day. men, women, and children jump over the flames or the glowing embers, believing that by so doing they rid themselves of all misfortune which may be clinging to them; they imagine, also, that such leaps cure the sick and procure offspring for childless couples. moreover, they burn straw, together with some marjoram and alum, in the fold where the cattle, sheep, and goats are penned for the night; the smoke, in their opinion, will make the animals thrive. on midsummer day the arabs of the mnasara tribe make fires outside their tents, near their animals, on their fields, and in their gardens. large quantities of penny-royal are burned in these fires, and over some of them the people leap thrice to and fro. sometimes small fires are also kindled inside the tents. they say that the smoke confers blessings on everything with which it comes into contact. at salee, on the atlantic coast of morocco, persons who suffer from diseased eyes rub them with the ashes of the midsummer fire; and in casablanca and azemmur the people hold their faces over the fire, because the smoke is thought to be good for the eyes. the arab tribe ulad bu aziz, in the dukkala province of morocco, kindle midsummer bonfires, not for themselves and their cattle, but only for crops and fruit; nobody likes to reap his crops before midsummer day, because if he did they would lose the benefit of the blessed influence which flows from the smoke of the bonfires. again, the beni mgild, a berber tribe of morocco, light fires of straw on midsummer eve and leap thrice over them to and fro. they let some of the smoke pass underneath their clothes, and married women hold their breasts over the fire, in order that their children may be strong. moreover, they paint their eyes and lips with some black powder, in which ashes of the bonfire are mixed. and in order that their horses may also benefit by the fires, they dip the right forelegs of the animals in the smoke and flames or in the hot embers, and they rub ashes on the foreheads and between the nostrils of the horses. berbers of the rif province, in northern morocco, similarly make great use of fires at midsummer for the good of themselves, their cattle, and their fruit-trees. they jump over the bonfires in the belief that this will preserve them in good health, and they light fires under fruit-trees to keep the fruit from falling untimely. and they imagine that by rubbing a paste of the ashes on their hair they prevent the hair from falling off their heads.[ ] [beneficial effect ascribed to the smoke of the fires; ill luck supposed to be burnt in the midsummer fires; the midsummer festival in north africa comprises rites concerned with water as well as with fire; the midsummer festival in north africa is probably older than mohammedanism.] in all these moroccan customs, we are told, the beneficial effect is attributed wholly to the smoke, which is supposed to be endued with a magical quality that removes misfortune from men, animals, fruit-trees, and crops. but in some parts of morocco people at midsummer kindle fires of a different sort, not for the sake of fumigation, but in order to burn up misfortune in the flames. thus on midsummer eve the berber tribe of the beni mgild burn three sheaves of unthreshed wheat or barley, "one for the children, one for the crops, and one for the animals." on the same occasion they burn the tent of a widow who has never given birth to a child; by so doing they think to rid the village of ill luck. it is said that at midsummer the zemmur burn a tent, which belongs to somebody who was killed in war during a feast; or if there is no such person in the village, the schoolmaster's tent is burned instead. among the arabic-speaking beni ahsen it is customary for those who live near the river sbu to make a little hut of straw at midsummer, set it on fire, and let it float down the river. similarly the inhabitants of salee burn a straw hut on the river which flows past their town.[ ] further it deserves to be noticed that in northern africa, as in southern europe, the midsummer festival comprises rites concerned with water as well as with fire. for example, among the beni-snous the women light a fire in an oven, throw perfumes into it, and circumambulate a tank, which they also incense after a fashion. in many places on the coast, as in the province of oran and particularly in the north of morocco, everybody goes and bathes in the sea at midsummer; and in many towns of the interior, such as fez, mequinez, and especially merrakech, people throw water over each other on this day; and where water is scarce, earth is used instead, according to the mohammedan principle which permits ablutions to be performed with earth or sand when water cannot be spared for the purpose.[ ] people of the andjra district in morocco not only bathe themselves in the sea or in rivers at midsummer, they also bathe their animals, their horses, mules, donkeys, cattle, sheep, and goats; for they think that on that day water possesses a blessed virtue (_baraka_), which removes sickness and misfortune. in aglu, again, men, women, and children bathe in the sea or springs or rivers at midsummer, alleging that by so doing they protect themselves against disease for the whole year. among the berbers of the rif district the custom of bathing on this day is commonly observed, and animals share the ablutions.[ ] [some mohammedans of north africa kindle fires and observe water ceremonies at their movable new year; water ceremonies at new year in morocco; the rites of fire and water at midsummer and new year in morocco seem to be identical in character; the duplication of the festival is probably due to a conflict between the solar calendar of the romans and the lunar calendar of the arabs.] the celebration of a midsummer festival by mohammedan peoples is particularly remarkable, because the mohammedan calendar, being purely lunar and uncorrected by intercalation, necessarily takes no note of festivals which occupy fixed points in the solar year; all strictly mohammedan feasts, being pinned to the moon, slide gradually with that luminary through the whole period of the earth's revolution about the sun. this fact of itself seems to prove that among the mohammedan peoples of northern africa, as among the christian peoples of europe, the midsummer festival is quite independent of the religion which the people publicly profess, and is a relic of a far older paganism. there are, indeed, independent grounds for thinking that the arabs enjoyed the advantage of a comparatively well-regulated solar year before the prophet of god saddled them with the absurdity and inconvenience of a purely lunar calendar.[ ] be that as it may, it is notable that some mohammedan people of north africa kindle fires and bathe in water at the movable new year of their lunar calendar instead of at the fixed midsummer of the solar year; while others again practise these observances at both seasons. new year's day, on which the rites are celebrated, is called _ashur_; it is the tenth day of moharram, the first month of the mohammedan calendar. on that day bonfires are kindled in tunis and also at merrakech and among some tribes of the neighbourhood.[ ] at demnat, in the great atlas mountains, people kindle a large bonfire on new year's eve and leap to and fro over the flames, uttering words which imply that by these leaps they think to purify themselves from all kinds of evil. at aglu, in the province of sus, the fire is lighted at three different points by an unmarried girl, and when it has died down the young men leap over the glowing embers, saying, "we shook on you, o lady ashur, fleas, and lice, and the illnesses of the heart, as also those of the bones; we shall pass through you again next year and the following years with safety and health." both at aglu and glawi, in the great atlas, smaller fires are also kindled, over which the animals are driven. at demnat girls who wish to marry wash themselves in water which has been boiled over the new year fire; and in dukkala people use the ashes of that fire to rub sore eyes with. new year fires appear to be commonly kindled among the berbers who inhabit the western portion of the great atlas, and also among the arabic-speaking tribes of the plains; but dr. westermarck found no traces of such fires among the arabic-speaking mountaineers of northern morocco and the berbers of the rif province. further, it should be observed that water ceremonies like those which are practised at midsummer are very commonly observed in morocco at the new year, that is, on the tenth day of the first month. on the morning of that day (_ashur_) all water or, according to some people, only spring water is endowed with a magical virtue (_baraka_), especially before sunrise. hence at that time the people bathe and pour water over each other; in some places they also sprinkle their animals, tents, or rooms. in dukkala some of the new year water is preserved at home till new year's day (_ashur_) of next year; some of it is kept to be used as medicine, some of it is poured on the place where the corn is threshed, and some is used to water the money which is to be buried in the ground; for the people think that the earth-spirits will not be able to steal the buried treasures which have thus been sanctified with the holy water.[ ] [the midsummer festival in morocco seems to be of berber origin.] thus the rites of fire and water which are observed in morocco at midsummer and new year appear to be identical in character and intention, and it seems certain that the duplication of the rites is due to a conflict between two calendars, namely the old julian calendar of the romans, which was based on the sun, and the newer mohammedan calendar of the arabs, which is based on the moon. for not only was the julian calendar in use throughout the whole of northern africa under the roman empire; to this day it is everywhere employed among mohammedans for the regulation of agriculture and all the affairs of daily life; its practical convenience has made it indispensable, and the lunar calendar of orthodox mohammedanism is scarcely used except for purposes of chronology. even the old latin names of the months are known and employed, in slightly disguised forms, throughout the whole moslem world; and little calendars of the julian year circulate in manuscript among mohammedans, permitting them to combine the practical advantages of pagan science with a nominal adherence to orthodox absurdity.[ ] thus the heathen origin of the midsummer festival is too palpable to escape the attention of good mohammedans, who accordingly frown upon the midsummer bonfires as pagan superstitions, precisely as similar observances in europe have often been denounced by orthodox christianity. indeed, many religious people in morocco entirely disapprove of the whole of the midsummer ceremonies, maintaining that they are all bad; and a conscientious schoolmaster will even refuse his pupils a holiday at midsummer, though the boys sometimes offer him a bribe if he will sacrifice his scruples to his avarice.[ ] as the midsummer customs appear to flourish among all the berbers of morocco but to be unknown among the pure arabs who have not been affected by berber influence, it seems reasonable to infer with dr. westermarck that the midsummer festival has belonged from time immemorial to the berber race, and that so far as it is now observed by the arabs of morocco, it has been learned by them from the berbers, the old indigenous inhabitants of the country. dr. westermarck may also be right in holding that, in spite of the close similarity which obtains between the midsummer festival of europe and the midsummer festival of north africa, the latter is not a copy of the former, but that both have been handed down independently from a time beyond the purview of history, when such ceremonies were common to the mediterranean race.[ ] § . _the autumn fires_ [festivals of fire in august; russian feast of florus and laurus on august th; "living fire" made by the friction of wood.] in the months which elapse between midsummer and the setting in of winter the european festivals of fire appear to be few and unimportant. on the evening of the first day of august, which is the festival of the cross, bonfires are commonly lit in macedonia and boys jump over them, shouting, "dig up! bury!" but whom or what they wish to dig up or bury they do not know.[ ] the russians hold the feast of two martyrs, florus and laurus, on the eighteenth day of august, old style. "on this day the russians lead their horses round the church of their village, beside which on the foregoing evening they dig a hole with two mouths. each horse has a bridle made of the bark of the linden-tree. the horses go through this hole one after the other, opposite to one of the mouths of which the priest stands with a sprinkler in his hand, with which he sprinkles them. as soon as the horses have passed by their bridles are taken off, and they are made to go between two fires that they kindle, called by the russians _givoy agon_, that is to say, living fires, of which i shall give an account. i shall before remark, that the russian peasantry throw the bridles of their horses into one of these fires to be consumed. this is the manner of their lighting these _givoy agon_, or living fires. some men hold the ends of a stick made of the plane-tree, very dry, and about a fathom long. this stick they hold firmly over one of birch, perfectly dry, and rub with violence and quickly against the former; the birch, which is somewhat softer than the plane, in a short time inflames, and serves them to light both the fires i have described."[ ] [feast of the nativity of the virgin on the eighth of september at capri and naples.] the feast of the nativity of the virgin on the eighth day of september is celebrated at naples and capri with fireworks, bonfires, and assassinations. on this subject my friend professor a. e. housman, who witnessed the celebration in different years at both places, has kindly furnished me with the following particulars: "in i was in the island of capri on september the eighth, the feast of the nativity of the virgin. the anniversary was duly solemnised by fire-works at nine or ten in the evening, which i suppose were municipal; but just after sundown the boys outside the villages were making small fires of brushwood on waste bits of ground by the wayside. very pretty it looked, with the flames blowing about in the twilight; but what took my attention was the listlessness of the boys and their lack of interest in the proceeding. a single lad, the youngest, would be raking the fire together and keeping it alight, but the rest stood lounging about and looking in every other direction, with the air of discharging mechanically a traditional office from which all zest had evaporated." "the pious orgy at naples on september the eighth went through the following phases when i witnessed it in . it began at eight in the evening with an illumination of the façade of santa maria piedigrotta and with the whole population walking about blowing penny trumpets. after four hours of this i went to bed at midnight, and was lulled to sleep by barrel-organs, which supersede the trumpets about that hour. at four in the morning i was waked by detonations as if the british fleet were bombarding the city, caused, i was afterwards told, by dynamite rockets. the only step possible beyond this is assassination, which accordingly takes place about peep of day: i forget now the number of the slain, but i think the average is eight or ten, and i know that in honour of my presence they murdered a few more than usual." [the feast of the nativity of the virgin may have replaced a pagan festival; the coincidence of the midsummer festival with the summer solstice implies that the founders of the festival regulated their calendar by observation of the sun.] it is no doubt possible that these illuminations and fireworks, like the assassinations, are merely the natural and spontaneous expressions of that overflowing joy with which the thought of the birth of the virgin must fill every pious heart; but when we remember how often the church has skilfully decanted the new wine of christianity into the old bottles of heathendom, we may be allowed to conjecture that the ecclesiastical authorities adroitly timed the nativity of the virgin so as to coincide with an old pagan festival of that day, in which fire, noise, and uproar, if not broken heads and bloodshed, were conspicuous features. the penny trumpets blown on this occasion recall the like melodious instruments which figure so largely in the celebration of befana (the eve of epiphany) at rome.[ ] § . _the hallowe'en fires_ [on the other hand the celts divided their year, not by the solstices, but by the beginning of summer (the first of may) and the beginning of winter (the first of november).] from the foregoing survey we may infer that among the heathen forefathers of the european peoples the most popular and widespread fire-festival of the year was the great celebration of midsummer eve or midsummer day. the coincidence of the festival with the summer solstice can hardly be accidental. rather we must suppose that our pagan ancestors purposely timed the ceremony of fire on earth to coincide with the arrival of the sun at the highest point of his course in the sky. if that was so, it follows that the old founders of the midsummer rites had observed the solstices or turning-points of the sun's apparent path in the sky, and that they accordingly regulated their festal calendar to some extent by astronomical considerations. [the division seems to have been neither astronomical nor agricultural but pastoral, being determined by the times when cattle are driven to and from their summer pasture.] but while this may be regarded as fairly certain for what we may call the aborigines throughout a large part of the continent, it appears not to have been true of the celtic peoples who inhabited the land's end of europe, the islands and promontories that stretch out into the atlantic ocean on the north-west. the principal fire-festivals of the celts, which have survived, though in a restricted area and with diminished pomp, to modern times and even to our own day, were seemingly timed without any reference to the position of the sun in the heaven. they were two in number, and fell at an interval of six months, one being celebrated on the eve of may day and the other on allhallow even or hallowe'en, as it is now commonly called, that is, on the thirty-first of october, the day preceding all saints' or allhallows' day. these dates coincide with none of the four great hinges on which the solar year revolves, to wit, the solstices and the equinoxes. nor do they agree with the principal seasons of the agricultural year, the sowing in spring and the reaping in autumn. for when may day comes, the seed has long been committed to the earth; and when november opens, the harvest has long been reaped and garnered, the fields lie bare, the fruit-trees are stripped, and even the yellow leaves are fast fluttering to the ground. yet the first of may and the first of november mark turning-points of the year in europe; the one ushers in the genial heat and the rich vegetation of summer, the other heralds, if it does not share, the cold and barrenness of winter. now these particular points of the year, as has been well pointed out by a learned and ingenious writer,[ ] while they are of comparatively little moment to the european husbandman, do deeply concern the european herdsman; for it is on the approach of summer that he drives his cattle out into the open to crop the fresh grass, and it is on the approach of winter that he leads them back to the safety and shelter of the stall. accordingly it seems not improbable that the celtic bisection of the year into two halves at the beginning of may and the beginning of november dates from a time when the celts were mainly a pastoral people, dependent for their subsistence on their herds, and when accordingly the great epochs of the year for them were the days on which the cattle went forth from the homestead in early summer and returned to it again in early winter.[ ] even in central europe, remote from the region now occupied by the celts, a similar bisection of the year may be clearly traced in the great popularity, on the one hand, of may day and its eve (walpurgis night), and, on the other hand, of the feast of all souls at the beginning of november, which under a thin christian cloak conceals an ancient pagan festival of the dead.[ ] hence we may conjecture that everywhere throughout europe the celestial division of the year according to the solstices was preceded by what we may call a terrestrial division of the year according to the beginning of summer and the beginning of winter. [the two great celtic festivals, beltane and hallowe'en.] be that as it may, the two great celtic festivals of may day and the first of november or, to be more accurate, the eves of these two days, closely resemble each other in the manner of their celebration and in the superstitions associated with them, and alike, by the antique character impressed upon both, betray a remote and purely pagan origin. the festival of may day or beltane, as the celts called it, which ushered in summer, has already been described;[ ] it remains to give some account of the corresponding festival of hallowe'en, which announced the arrival of winter. [hallowe'en (the evening of october st) seems to have marked the beginning of the celtic year; the many forms of divination resorted to at hallowe'en are appropriate to the beginning of a new year; hallowe'en also a festival of the dead.] of the two feasts hallowe'en was perhaps of old the more important, since the celts would seem to have dated the beginning of the year from it rather than from beltane. in the isle of man, one of the fortresses in which the celtic language and lore longest held out against the siege of the saxon invaders, the first of november, old style, has been regarded as new year's day down to recent times. thus manx mummers used to go round on hallowe'en (old style), singing, in the manx language, a sort of hogmanay song which began "to-night is new year's night, _hog-unnaa_!"[ ] one of sir john rhys's manx informants, an old man of sixty-seven, "had been a farm servant from the age of sixteen till he was twenty-six to the same man, near regaby, in the parish of andreas, and he remembers his master and a near neighbour of his discussing the term new year's day as applied to the first of november, and explaining to the younger men that it had always been so in old times. in fact, it seemed to him natural enough, as all tenure of land ends at that time, and as all servant men begin their service then."[ ] in ancient ireland, as we saw, a new fire used to be kindled every year on hallowe'en or the eve of samhain, and from this sacred flame all the fires in ireland were rekindled.[ ] such a custom points strongly to samhain or all saints' day (the first of november) as new year's day; since the annual kindling of a new fire takes place most naturally at the beginning of the year, in order that the blessed influence of the fresh fire may last throughout the whole period of twelve months. another confirmation of the view that the celts dated their year from the first of november is furnished by the manifold modes of divination which, as we shall see presently, were commonly resorted to by celtic peoples on hallowe'en for the purpose of ascertaining their destiny, especially their fortune in the coming year; for when could these devices for prying into the future be more reasonably put in practice than at the beginning of the year? as a season of omens and auguries hallowe'en seems to have far surpassed beltane in the imagination of the celts; from which we may with some probability infer that they reckoned their year from hallowe'en rather than beltane. another circumstance of great moment which points to the same conclusion is the association of the dead with hallowe'en. not only among the celts but throughout europe, hallowe'en, the night which marks the transition from autumn to winter, seems to have been of old the time of year when the souls of the departed were supposed to revisit their old homes in order to warm themselves by the fire and to comfort themselves with the good cheer provided for them in the kitchen or the parlour by their affectionate kinsfolk.[ ] it was, perhaps, a natural thought that the approach of winter should drive the poor shivering hungry ghosts from the bare fields and the leafless woodlands to the shelter of the cottage with its familiar fireside.[ ] did not the lowing kine then troop back from the summer pastures in the forests and on the hills to be fed and cared for in the stalls, while the bleak winds whistled among the swaying boughs and the snow drifts deepened in the hollows? and could the good-man and the good-wife deny to the spirits of their dead the welcome which they gave to the cows? [fairies and hobgoblins let loose at hallowe'en.] but it is not only the souls of the departed who are supposed to be hovering unseen on the day "when autumn to winter resigns the pale year." witches then speed on their errands of mischief, some sweeping through the air on besoms, others galloping along the roads on tabby-cats, which for that evening are turned into coal-black steeds.[ ] the fairies, too, are all let loose, and hobgoblins of every sort roam freely about in south uist and eriskay there is a saying:-- "_hallowe'en will come, will come, witchcraft [or divination] will be set agoing, fairies will be at full speed, running in every pass. avoid the road, children, children_."[ ] [dancing with the fairies at hallowe'en.] in cardiganshire on november eve a bogie sits on every stile.[ ] on that night in ireland all the fairy hills are thrown wide open and the fairies swarm forth; any man who is bold enough may then peep into the open green hills and see the treasures hidden in them. worse than that, the cave of cruachan in connaught, known as "the hell-gate of ireland," is unbarred on samhain eve or hallowe'en, and a host of horrible fiends and goblins used to rush forth, particularly a flock of copper-red birds, which blighted crops and killed animals by their poisonous breath.[ ] the scotch highlanders have a special name _samhanach_ (derived from _samhain_, "all-hallows") for the dreadful bogies that go about that night stealing babies and committing other atrocities.[ ] and though the fairies are a kindlier folk, it is dangerous to see even them at their revels on hallowe'en. a melancholy case of this sort is reported from the ferintosh district of the highlands, though others say that it happened at the slope of big stones in harris. two young men were coming home after nightfall on hallowe'en, each with a jar of whisky on his back, when they saw, as they thought, a house all lit up by the roadside, from which proceeded the sounds of music and dancing. in reality it was not a house at all but a fairy knoll, and it was the fairies who were jigging it about there so merrily. but one of the young men was deceived and stepping into the house joined in the dance, without even stopping to put down the jar of whisky. his companion was wiser; he had a shrewd suspicion that the place was not what it seemed, and on entering he took the precaution of sticking a needle in the door. that disarmed the power of the fairies, and he got away safely. well, that day twelve months he came back to the spot and what should he see but his poor friend still dancing away with the jar of whisky on his back? a weary man was he, as you may well believe, but he begged to be allowed to finish the reel which he was in the act of executing, and when they took him out into the open air, there was nothing of him left but skin and bones.[ ] again, the wicked fairies are apt to carry off men's wives with them to fairyland; but the lost spouses can be recovered within a year and a day when the procession of the fairies is defiling past on hallowe'en, always provided that the mortals did not partake of elfin food while they were in elfinland.[ ] [guleesh and the revels of the fairies at hallowe'en.] sometimes valuable information may be obtained from the fairies on hallowe'en. there was a young man named guleesh in the county of mayo. near his house was a _rath_ or old fort with a fine grass bank running round it. one hallowe'en, when the darkness was falling, guleesh went to the rath and stood on a gray old flag. the night was calm and still; there was not a breath of wind stirring, nor a sound to be heard except the hum of the insects flitting past, or the whistle of the plovers, or the hoarse scream of the wild geese as they winged their way far overhead. above the white fog the moon rose like a knob of fire in the east, and a thousand thousand stars were twinkling in the sky. there was a little frost in the air, the grass was white and crisp and crackled under foot. guleesh expected to see the fairies, but they did not come. hour after hour wore away, and he was just bethinking him of going home to bed, when his ear caught a sound far off coming towards him, and he knew what it was in a moment. the sound grew louder and louder; at first it was like the beating of waves on a stony shore, then it was like the roar of a waterfall, at last it was like a mighty rushing wind in the tops of the trees, then the storm burst upon the rath, and sure enough the fairies were in it. the rout went by so suddenly that guleesh lost his breath; but he came to himself and listened. the fairies were now gathered within the grassy bank of the rath, and a fine uproar they made. but guleesh listened with all his ears, and he heard one fairy saying to another that a magic herb grew by guleesh's own door, and that guleesh had nothing to do but pluck it and boil it and give it to his sweetheart, the daughter of the king of france, and she would be well, for just then she was lying very ill. guleesh took the hint, and everything went as the fairy had said. and he married the daughter of the king of france; and they had never a cark nor a care, a sickness nor a sorrow, a mishap nor a misfortune to the day of their death.[ ] [divination resorted to in celtic countries at hallowe'en.] in all celtic countries hallowe'en seems to have been the great season of the year for prying into the future; all kinds of divination were put in practice that night. we read that dathi, a king of ireland in the fifth century, happening to be at the druids' hill (_cnoc-nan-druad_) in the county of sligo one hallowe'en, ordered his druid to forecast for him the future from that day till the next hallowe'en should come round. the druid passed the night on the top of the hill, and next morning made a prediction to the king which came true.[ ] in wales hallowe'en was the weirdest of all the _teir nos ysbrydion_, or three spirit nights, when the wind, "blowing over the feet of the corpses," bore sighs to the houses of those who were to die within the year. people thought that if on that night they went out to a cross-road and listened to the wind, they would learn all the most important things that would befall them during the next twelve months.[ ] in wales, too, not so long ago women used to congregate in the parish churches on the night of hallowe'en and read their fate from the flame of the candle which each of them held in her hand; also they heard the names or saw the coffins of the parishioners who would die within the year, and many were the sad scenes to which these gloomy visions gave rise.[ ] and in the highlands of scotland anybody who pleased could hear proclaimed aloud the names of parishioners doomed to perish within the next twelve months, if he would only take a three-legged stool and go and sit on it at three cross-roads, while the church clock was striking twelve at midnight on hallowe'en. it was even in his power to save the destined victims from their doom by taking with him articles of wearing apparel and throwing them away, one by one, as each name was called out by the mysterious voice.[ ] [hallowe'en bonfires in the highlands of scotland; john ramsay's account of the hallowe'en bonfires; divination from stones at the fire; hallowe'en fires in the parishes of callander and logierait.] but while a glamour of mystery and awe has always clung to hallowe'en in the minds of the celtic peasantry, the popular celebration of the festival has been, at least in modern times, by no means of a prevailingly gloomy cast; on the contrary it has been attended by picturesque features and merry pastimes, which rendered it the gayest night of all the year. amongst the things which in the highlands of scotland contributed to invest the festival with a romantic beauty were the bonfires which used to blaze at frequent intervals on the heights. "on the last day of autumn children gathered ferns, tar-barrels, the long thin stalks called _gàinisg_, and everything suitable for a bonfire. these were placed in a heap on some eminence near the house, and in the evening set fire to. the fires were called _samhnagan_. there was one for each house, and it was an object of ambition who should have the biggest. whole districts were brilliant with bonfires, and their glare across a highland loch, and from many eminences, formed an exceedingly picturesque scene."[ ] like the beltane fires on the first of may, the hallowe'en bonfires seem to have been kindled most commonly in the perthshire highlands. travelling in the parish of moulin, near pitlochrie, in the year , the englishman thomas pennant writes that "hallow eve is also kept sacred: as soon as it is dark, a person sets fire to a bush of broom fastened round a pole, and, attended with a crowd, runs about the village. he then flings it down, heaps great quantity of combustible matters on it, and makes a great bonfire. a whole tract is thus illuminated at the same time, and makes a fine appearance."[ ] the custom has been described more fully by a scotchman of the eighteenth century, john ramsay of ochtertyre. on the evening of hallowe'en "the young people of every hamlet assembled upon some eminence near the houses. there they made a bonfire of ferns or other fuel, cut the same day, which from the feast was called _samh-nag_ or _savnag_, a fire of rest and pleasure. around it was placed a circle of stones, one for each person of the families to whom they belonged. and when it grew dark the bonfire was kindled, at which a loud shout was set up. then each person taking a torch of ferns or sticks in his hand, ran round the fire exulting; and sometimes they went into the adjacent fields, where, if there was another company, they visited the bonfire, taunting the others if inferior in any respect to themselves. after the fire was burned out they returned home, where a feast was prepared, and the remainder of the evening was spent in mirth and diversions of various kinds. next morning they repaired betimes to the bonfire, where the situation of the stones was examined with much attention. if any of them were misplaced, or if the print of a foot could be discerned near any particular stone, it was imagined that the person for whom it was set would not live out the year. of late years this is less attended to, but about the beginning of the present century it was regarded as a sure prediction. the hallowe'en fire is still kept up in some parts of the low country; but on the western coast and in the isles it is never kindled, though the night is spent in merriment and entertainments."[ ] in the perthshire parish of callander, which includes the now famous pass of the trossachs opening out on the winding and wooded shores of the lovely loch katrine, the hallowe'en bonfires were still kindled down to near the end of the eighteenth century. when the fire had died down, the ashes were carefully collected in the form of a circle, and a stone was put in, near the circumference, for every person of the several families interested in the bonfire. next morning, if any of these stones was found to be displaced or injured, the people made sure that the person represented by it was _fey_ or devoted, and that he could not live twelve months from that day.[ ] in the parish of logierait, which covers the beautiful valley of the tummel, one of the fairest regions of all scotland, the hallowe'en fire was somewhat different. faggots of heath, broom, and the dressings of flax were kindled and carried on poles by men, who ran with them round the villages, attended by a crowd. as soon as one faggot was burnt out, a fresh one was lighted and fastened to the pole. numbers of these blazing faggots were often carried about together, and when the night happened to be dark, they formed a splendid illumination.[ ] [hallowe'en fires on loch tay; hallowe'en fires at balquhidder.] nor did the hallowe'en fires die out in perthshire with the end of the eighteenth century. journeying from dunkeld to aberfeldy on hallowe'en in the first half of the nineteenth century, sheriff barclay counted thirty fires blazing on the hill tops, and saw the figures of the people dancing like phantoms round the flames.[ ] again, "in , i was residing near the head of loch tay during the season of the hallowe'en feast. for several days before hallowe'en, boys and youths collected wood and conveyed it to the most prominent places on the hill sides in their neighbourhood. some of the heaps were as large as a corn-stack or hayrick. after dark on hallowe'en, these heaps were kindled, and for several hours both sides of loch tay were illuminated as far as the eye could see. i was told by old men that at the beginning of this century men as well as boys took part in getting up the bonfires, and that, when the fire was ablaze, all joined hands and danced round the fire, and made a great noise; but that, as these gatherings generally ended in drunkenness and rough and dangerous fun, the ministers set their faces against the observance, and were seconded in their efforts by the more intelligent and well-behaved in the community; and so the practice was discontinued by adults and relegated to school boys."[ ] at balquhidder down to the latter part of the nineteenth century each household kindled its bonfire at hallowe'en, but the custom was chiefly observed by children. the fires were lighted on any high knoll near the house; there was no dancing round them.[ ] [hallowe'en fires in buchan to burn the witches; processions with torches at hallowe'en in the braemar highlands.] hallowe'en fires were also lighted in some districts of the north-east of scotland, such as buchan. villagers and farmers alike must have their fire. in the villages the boys went from house to house and begged a peat from each householder, usually with the words, "ge's a peat t' burn the witches." in some villages the lads collected the peats in a cart, some of them drawing it along and the others receiving the peats and loading them on the cart. along with the peats they accumulated straw, furze, potato haulm, everything that would burn quickly, and when they had got enough they piled it all in a heap and set it on fire. then each of the youths, one after another, laid himself down on the ground as near to the fire as he could without being scorched, and thus lying allowed the smoke to roll over him. the others ran through the smoke and jumped over their prostrate comrade. when the heap was burned down, they scattered the ashes. each one took a share in this part of the ceremony, giving a kick first with the right foot and then with the left; and each vied with the other who should scatter the most. after that some of them still continued to run through the scattered ashes and to pelt each other with the half-burned peats. at each farm a spot as high as possible, not too near the steading, was chosen for the fire, and the proceedings were much the same as at the village bonfire. the lads of one farm, when their own fire was burned down and the ashes scattered, sometimes went to a neighbouring fire and helped to kick the ashes about.[ ] referring to this part of scotland, a writer at the end of the eighteenth century observes that "the hallow-even fire, another relict of druidism, was kindled in buchan. various magic ceremonies were then celebrated to counteract the influence of witches and demons, and to prognosticate to the young their success or disappointment in the matrimonial lottery. these being devoutly finished, the hallow fire was kindled, and guarded by the male part of the family. societies were formed, either by pique or humour, to scatter certain fires, and the attack and defence were often conducted with art and with fury."[ ] down to about the middle of the nineteenth century "the braemar highlanders made the circuit of their fields with lighted torches at hallowe'en to ensure their fertility in the coming year. at that date the custom was as follows: every member of the family (in those days households were larger than they are now) was provided with a bundle of fir 'can'les' with which to go the round. the father and mother stood at the hearth and lit the splints in the peat fire, which they passed to the children and servants, who trooped out one after the other, and proceeded to tread the bounds of their little property, going slowly round at equal distances apart, and invariably with the sun. to go 'withershins' seems to have been reserved for cursing and excommunication. when the fields had thus been circumambulated the remaining spills were thrown together in a heap and allowed to burn out."[ ] [divination at hallow-e'en in the highlands and lowlands of scotland; the stolen kail; sowing hemp seed; the winnowing basket; the wet shirt; the thrown shoe.] in the highlands of scotland, as the evening of hallowe'en wore on, young people gathered in one of the houses and resorted to an almost endless variety of games, or rather forms of divination, for the purpose of ascertaining the future fate of each member of the company. were they to marry or remain single, was the marriage to take place that year or never, who was to be married first, what sort of husband or wife she or he was to get, the name, the trade, the colour of the hair, the amount of property of the future spouse--these were questions that were eagerly canvassed and the answers to them furnished never-failing entertainment.[ ] nor were these modes of divination at hallowe'en confined to the highlands, where the bonfires were kindled; they were practised with equal faith and in practically the same forms in the lowlands, as we learn, for example, from burns's poem _hallowe'en_, which describes the auguries drawn from a variety of omens by the ayrshire peasantry. these lowlanders of saxon descent may well have inherited the rites from the celts who preceded them in the possession of the south country. a common practice at hallowe'en was to go out stealthily to a neighbour's kailyard and there, with shut eyes, to pull up the first kail stock that came to hand. it was necessary that the plants should be stolen without the knowledge or consent of their owner; otherwise they were quite useless for the purpose of divination. strictly speaking, too, the neighbour upon whose garden the raid was made should be unmarried, whether a bachelor or a spinster. the stolen kail was taken home and examined, and according to its height, shape, and features would be the height, shape, and features of the future husband or wife. the taste of the _custock_, that is, the heart of the stem, was an infallible indication of his or her temper; and a clod of earth adhering to the root signified, in proportion to its size, the amount of property which he or she would bring to the common stock. then the kail-stock or _runt_, as it was called in ayrshire, was placed over the lintel of the door; and the baptismal name of the young man or woman who first entered the door after the kail was in position would be the baptismal name of the husband or wife.[ ] again, young women sowed hemp seed over nine ridges of ploughed land, saying, "i sow hemp seed, and he who is to be my husband, let him come and harrow it." on looking back over her left shoulder the girl would see the figure of her future mate behind her in the darkness. in the north-east of scotland lint seed was used instead of hemp seed and answered the purpose quite as well.[ ] again, a mode of ascertaining your future husband or wife was this. take a clue of blue yarn and go to a lime-kiln. throw the clue into the kiln, but keep one end of the thread in your hand and wind it on to another clue. as you come near the end somebody or something will hold the other end tight in the kiln. then you call out, "who holds?" giving the thread at the same time a gentle pull. some one or something will thereupon pull the other end of the thread, and a voice will mention the name of your future husband or wife.[ ] another way is this. go to the barn alone and secretly. be sure to open both doors and if possible take them off their hinges; for if the being who is about to appear should catch you in the barn and clap the doors to on you, he or she might do you a mischief. having done this, take the sieve or winnowing-basket, which in lowland scotch is called a _wecht_ or _waicht_, and go through the action of winnowing corn. repeat it thrice, and at the third time the apparition of your future husband or wife will pass through the barn, entering at the windy door and passing out at the other.[ ] or this. go to a southward running stream, where the lands of three lairds meet, or to a ford where the dead and living have crossed. dip the left sleeve of your shirt in the water. then go home, take off the shirt, hang it up before a fire to dry, and go to bed, taking care that the bed stands so that you can see your shirt hanging before the fire. keep awake, and at midnight you will see the form of your future spouse come into the room and turn the other side of the sleeve to the fire to dry it.[ ] a highland form of divination at hallowe'en is to take a shoe by the tip and throw it over the house, then observe the direction in which the toe points as it lies on the ground on the other side; for in that direction you are destined to go before long. if the shoe should fall sole uppermost, it is very unlucky for you.[ ] [the white of eggs in water; the names on the chimney piece; the nuts in the fire; the milk and meal; the apples in the water; the three plates.] these ways of prying into the future are practised outside of the house; others are observed in the kitchen or the parlour before the cheerful blaze of the fire. thus the white of eggs, dropped in a glass of pure water, indicates by certain marks how many children a person will have. the impatience and clamour of the children, eager to ascertain the exact number of their future progeny, often induced the housewife to perform this ceremony for them by daylight; and the kindly mother, standing with her face to the window, dropping the white of an egg into a crystal glass of clean water, and surrounded by a group of children intently watching her proceedings, made up a pretty picture.[ ] when the fun of the evening had fairly commenced, the names of eligible or likely matches were written on the chimney-piece, and the young man who wished to try his fortune was led up blindfolded to the list. whatever name he put his finger on would prove that of his future wife.[ ] again, two nuts, representing a lad and a lass whose names were announced to the company, were put side by side in the fire. if they burned quietly together, the pair would be man and wife, and from the length of time they burned and the brightness of the flame the length and happiness of the married life of the two were augured. but if instead of burning together one of the nuts leaped away from the other, then there would be no marriage, and the blame would rest with the person whose nut had thus started away by itself.[ ] again, a dish of milk and meal (in gaelic _fuarag_, in lowland scotch _crowdie_) or of beat potatoes was made and a ring was hidden in it. spoons were served out to the company, who supped the contents of the dish hastily with them, and the one who got the ring would be the first to be married.[ ] again, apples and a silver sixpence were put in a tub of water; the apples naturally floated on the top and the sixpence sank to the bottom. whoever could lift an apple or the sixpence from the water with his mouth, without using his teeth, was counted very lucky and got the prize to himself.[ ] again, three plates or basins were placed on the hearth. one was filled with clean water, another with dirty water, and the third was empty. the enquirer was blindfolded, knelt in front of the hearth, and groped about till he put his finger in one of them. if he lighted on the plate with the clean water, he would wed a maid; if on the plate with the dirty water, he would marry a widow; and if on the empty plate, he would remain a bachelor. for a girl the answer of the oracle was analogous; she would marry a bachelor, a widower, or nobody according to the plate into which she chanced to dip her finger. but to make sure, the operation had to be repeated thrice, the position of the plates being changed each time. if the enquirer put his or her finger into the same plate thrice or even twice, it was quite conclusive.[ ] [the sliced apple; the white of egg in water; the salt cake or salt herring.] these forms of divination in the house were practised by the company in a body; but the following had to be performed by the person alone. you took an apple and stood with it in your hand in front of a looking-glass. then you sliced the apple, stuck each slice on the point of the knife, and held it over your left shoulder, while you looked into the glass and combed your hair. the spectre of your future husband would then appear in the mirror stretching forth his hand to take the slices of the apple over your shoulder. some say that the number of slices should be nine, that you should eat the first eight yourself, and only throw the ninth over your left shoulder for your husband; also that at each slice you should say, "in the name of the father and the son."[ ] again, take an egg, prick it with a pin, and let the white drop into a wine-glass nearly full of water. take some of this in your mouth and go out for a walk. the first name you hear called out aloud will be that of your future husband or wife. an old woman told a lady that she had tried this mode of divination in her youth, that the name of archibald "came up as it were from the very ground," and that archibald sure enough was the name of her husband.[ ] in south uist and eriskay, two of the outer hebrides, a salt cake called _bonnach salainn_ is eaten at hallowe'en to induce dreams that will reveal the future. it is baked of common meal with a great deal of salt. after eating it you may not drink water nor utter a word, not even to say your prayers. a salt herring, eaten bones and all in three bites, is equally efficacious, always provided that you drink no water and hold your tongue.[ ] [hallowe'en fires in wales; omens drawn from stones thrown into the fire; divination by stones in the ashes.] in the northern part of wales it used to be customary for every family to make a great bonfire called _coel coeth_ on hallowe'en. the fire was kindled on the most conspicuous spot near the house; and when it had nearly gone out everyone threw into the ashes a white stone, which he had first marked. then having said their prayers round the fire, they went to bed. next morning, as soon as they were up, they came to search out the stones, and if any one of them was found to be missing, they had a notion that the person who threw it would die before he saw another hallowe'en.[ ] a writer on wales at the beginning of the nineteenth century says that "the autumnal fire is still kindled in north wales, being on the eve of the first day of november, and is attended by many ceremonies; such as running through the fire and smoke, each casting a stone into the fire, and all running off at the conclusion to escape from the black short-tailed sow; then supping upon parsnips, nuts, and apples; catching up an apple suspended by a string with the mouth alone, and the same by an apple in a tub of water: each throwing a nut into the fire; and those that burn bright, betoken prosperity to the owners through the following year, but those that burn black and crackle, denote misfortune. on the following morning the stones are searched for in the fire, and if any be missing, they betide ill to those who threw them in."[ ] according to sir john rhys, the habit of celebrating hallowe'en by lighting bonfires on the hills is perhaps not yet extinct in wales, and men still living can remember how the people who assisted at the bonfires would wait till the last spark was out and then would suddenly take to their heels, shouting at the top of their voices, "the cropped black sow seize the hindmost!" the saying, as sir john rhys justly remarks, implies that originally one of the company became a victim in dead earnest. down to the present time the saying is current in carnarvonshire, where allusions to the cutty black sow are still occasionally made to frighten children.[ ] we can now understand why in lower brittany every person throws a pebble into the midsummer bonfire.[ ] doubtless there, as in wales and the highlands of scotland,[ ] omens of life and death have at one time or other been drawn from the position and state of the pebbles on the morning of all saints' day. the custom, thus found among three separate branches of the celtic stock, probably dates from a period before their dispersion, or at least from a time when alien races had not yet driven home the wedges of separation between them. [divination as to love and marriage at hallowe'en in wales.] in wales, as in scotland, hallowe'en was also the great season for forecasting the future in respect of love and marriage, and some of the forms of divination employed for this purpose resembled those which were in use among the scotch peasantry. two girls, for example, would make a little ladder of yarn, without breaking it from the ball, and having done so they would throw it out of the window. then one of the girls, holding the ball in her hand, would wind the yarn back, repeating a rhyme in welsh. this she did thrice, and as she wound the yarn she would see her future husband climbing up the little ladder. again, three bowls or basins were placed on a table. one of them contained clean water, one dirty water, and one was empty. the girls of the household, and sometimes the boys too, then eagerly tried their fortunes. they were blindfolded, led up to the table, and dipped their hands into a bowl. if they happened to dip into the clean water, they would marry maidens or bachelors; if into the dirty water, they would be widowers or widows; if into the empty bowl, they would live unmarried. again, if a girl, walking backwards, would place a knife among the leeks on hallowe'en, she would see her future husband come and pick up the knife and throw it into the middle of the garden.[ ] [divination at hallowe'en in ireland.] in ireland the hallowe'en bonfires would seem to have died out, but the hallowe'en divination has survived. writing towards the end of the eighteenth century, general vallancey tells us that on hallowe'en or the vigil of saman, as he calls it, "the peasants in ireland assemble with sticks and clubs (the emblems of laceration) going from house to house, collecting money, bread-cake, butter, cheese, eggs, etc., etc., for the feast, repeating verses in honour of the solemnity, demanding preparations for the festival, in the name of st. columb kill, desiring them to lay aside the fatted calf, and to bring forth the black sheep. the good women are employed in making the griddle cake and candles; these last are sent from house to house in the vicinity, and are lighted up on the (saman) next day, before which they pray, or are supposed to pray, for the departed souls of the donor. every house abounds in the best viands they can afford: apples and nuts are devoured in abundance: the nut-shells are burnt, and from the ashes many strange things are foretold: cabbages are torn up by the root: hemp seed is sown by the maidens, and they believe, that if they look back, they will see the apparition of the man intended for their future spouse: they hang a smock before the fire, on the close of the feast, and sit up all night, concealed in a corner of the room, convinced that his apparition will come down the chimney and turn the smock: they throw a ball of yarn out of the window, and wind it on the reel within, convinced, that if they repeat the _pater noster_ backwards, and look at the ball of yarn without, they will then also see his _sith_ or apparition: they dip for apples in a tub of water, and endeavour to bring one up in the mouth: they suspend a cord with a cross-stick, with apples at one point, and candles lighted at the other, and endeavour to catch the apple, while it is in a circular motion, in the mouth. these, and many other superstitious ceremonies, the remains of druidism, are observed on this holiday, which will never be eradicated, while the name of _saman_ is permitted to remain."[ ] [divination at hallow-e'en in queen's county; divination at hallow-e'en in county leitrim; divination at hallowe'en in county roscommon.] in queen's county, ireland, down to the latter part of the nineteenth century children practised various of these rites of divination on hallowe'en. girls went out into the garden blindfold and pulled up cabbages: if the cabbage was well grown, the girl would have a handsome husband, but if it had a crooked stalk, the future spouse would be a stingy old man. nuts, again, were placed in pairs on the bar of the fire, and from their behaviour omens were drawn of the fate in love and marriage of the couple whom they represented. lead, also, was melted and allowed to drop into a tub of cold water, and from the shapes which it assumed in the water predictions were made to the children of their future destiny. again, apples were bobbed for in a tub of water and brought up with the teeth; or a stick was hung from a hook with an apple at one end and a candle at the other, and the stick being made to revolve you made a bite at the apple and sometimes got a mouthful of candle instead.[ ] in county leitrim, also, down to near the end of the nineteenth century various forms of divination were practised at hallowe'en. girls ascertained the character of their future husbands by the help of cabbages just as in queen's county. again, if a girl found a branch of a briar-thorn which had bent over and grown into the ground so as to form a loop, she would creep through the loop thrice late in the evening in the devil's name, then cut the briar and put it under her pillow, all without speaking a word. then she would lay her head on the pillow and dream of the man she was to marry. boys, also, would dream in like manner of love and marriage at hallowe'en, if only they would gather ten leaves of ivy without speaking, throw away one, and put the other nine under their pillow. again, divination was practised by means of a cake called _barm-breac_, in which a nut and a ring were baked. whoever got the ring would be married first; whoever got the nut would marry a widow or a widower; but if the nut were an empty shell, he or she would remain unwed. again, a girl would take a clue of worsted, go to a lime kiln in the gloaming, and throw the clew into the kiln in the devil's name, while she held fast the other end of the thread. then she would rewind the thread and ask, "who holds my clue?" and the name of her future husband would come up from the depth of the kiln. another way was to take a rake, go to a rick and walk round it nine times, saying, "i rake this rick in the devil's name." at the ninth time the wraith of your destined partner for life would come and take the rake out of your hand. once more, before the company separated for the night, they would rake the ashes smooth on the hearth, and search them next morning for tracks, from which they judged whether anybody should come to the house, or leave it, or die in it before another year was out.[ ] in county roscommon, which borders on county leitrim, a cake is made in nearly every house on hallowe'en, and a ring, a coin, a sloe, and a chip of wood are put into it. whoever gets the coin will be rich; whoever gets the ring will be married first; whoever gets the chip of wood, which stands for a coffin, will die first; and whoever gets the sloe will live longest, because the fairies blight the sloes in the hedges on hallowe'en, so that the sloe in the cake will be the last of the year. again, on the same mystic evening girls take nine grains of oats in their mouths, and going out without speaking walk about till they hear a man's name pronounced; it will be the name of their future husband. in county roscommon, too, on hallowe'en there is the usual dipping in water for apples or sixpences, and the usual bites at a revolving apple and tallow candle.[ ] [hallowe'en fires in the isle of man; divination at hallowe'en in the isle of man.] in the isle of man also, another celtic country, hallow-e'en was celebrated down to modern times by the kindling of fires, accompanied with all the usual ceremonies designed to prevent the baneful influence of fairies and witches. bands of young men perambulated the island by night, and at the door of every dwelling-house they struck up a manx rhyme, beginning "_noght oie howney hop-dy-naw_," that is to say, "this is hollantide eve." for hollantide is the manx way of expressing the old english _all hallowen tide_, that is, all saints' day, the first of november. but as the people reckon this festival according to the old style, hollantide in the isle of man is our twelfth of november. the native manx name for the day is _sauin_ or _laa houney_. potatoes, parsnips and fish, pounded up together and mixed with butter, formed the proper evening meal (_mrastyr_) on hallowe'en in the isle of man.[ ] here, too, as in scotland forms of divination are practised by some people on this important evening. for example, the housewife fills a thimble full of salt for each member of the family and each guest; the contents of the thimblefuls are emptied out in as many neat little piles on a plate, and left there over night. next morning the piles are examined, and if any of them has fallen down, he or she whom it represents will die within the year. again, the women carefully sweep out the ashes from under the fireplace and flatten them down neatly on the open hearth. if they find next morning a footprint turned towards the door, it signifies a death in the family within the year; but if the footprint is turned in the opposite direction, it bodes a marriage. again, divination by eavesdropping is practised in the isle of man in much the same way as in scotland. you go out with your mouth full of water and your hands full of salt and listen at a neighbour's door, and the first name you hear will be the name of your husband. again, manx maids bandage their eyes and grope about the room till they dip their hands in vessels full of clean or dirty water, and so on; and from the thing they touch they draw corresponding omens. but some people in the isle of man observe these auguries, not on hallowe'en or hollantide eve, as they call it, which was the old manx new year's eve, but on the modern new year's eve, that is, on the thirty-first of december. the change no doubt marks a transition from the ancient to the modern mode of dating the beginning of the year.[ ] [hallowe'en fires and divination in lancashire; candles lighted to keep off the witches; divination at hallowe'en in northumberland; hallowe'en fires in france.] in lancashire, also, some traces of the old celtic celebration of hallowe'en have been reported in modern times. it is said that "fires are still lighted in lancashire, on hallowe'en, under the name of beltains or teanlas; and even such cakes as the jews are said to have made in honour of the queen of heaven, are yet to be found at this season amongst the inhabitants of the banks of the ribble.... both the fires and the cakes, however, are now connected with superstitious notions respecting purgatory, etc."[ ] on hallowe'en, too, the lancashire maiden "strews the ashes which are to take the form of one or more letters of her lover's name; she throws hemp-seed over her shoulder and timidly glances to see who follows her."[ ] again, witches in lancashire used to gather on hallowe'en at the malkin tower, a ruined and desolate farm-house in the forest of pendle. they assembled for no good purpose; but you could keep the infernal rout at bay by carrying a lighted candle about the fells from eleven to twelve o'clock at night. the witches tried to blow out the candle, and if they succeeded, so much the worse for you; but if the flame burned steadily till the clocks had struck midnight, you were safe. some people performed the ceremony by deputy; and parties went about from house to house in the evening collecting candles, one for each inmate, and offering their services to _late_ or _leet_ the witches, as the phrase ran. this custom was practised at longridge fell in the early part of the nineteenth century.[ ] in northumberland on hallowe'en omens of marriage were drawn from nuts thrown into the fire; and the sports of ducking for apples and biting at a revolving apple and lighted candle were also practised on that evening.[ ] the equivalent of the hallowe'en bonfires is reported also from france. we are told that in the department of deux-sèvres, which forms part of the old province of poitou, young people used to assemble in the fields on all saints' day (the first of november) and kindle great fires of ferns, thorns, leaves, and stubble, at which they roasted chestnuts. they also danced round the fires and indulged in noisy pastimes.[ ] § . _the midwinter fires_ [a midwinter festival of fire; christmas the continuation of an old heathen festival of the sun.] if the heathen of ancient europe celebrated, as we have good reason to believe, the season of midsummer with a great festival of fire, of which the traces have survived in many places down to our own time, it is natural to suppose that they should have observed with similar rites the corresponding season of midwinter; for midsummer and midwinter, or, in more technical language, the summer solstice and the winter solstice, are the two great turning-points in the sun's apparent course through the sky, and from the standpoint of primitive man nothing might seem more appropriate than to kindle fires on earth at the two moments when the fire and heat of the great luminary in heaven begin to wane or to wax. in this way the savage philosopher, to whose meditations on the nature of things we owe many ancient customs and ceremonies, might easily imagine that he helped the labouring sun to relight his dying lamp, or at all events to blow up the flame into a brighter blaze. certain it is that the winter solstice, which the ancients erroneously assigned to the twenty-fifth of december, was celebrated in antiquity as the birthday of the sun, and that festal lights or fires were kindled on this joyful occasion. our christmas festival is nothing but a continuation under a christian name of this old solar festivity; for the ecclesiastical authorities saw fit, about the end of the third or the beginning of the fourth century, arbitrarily to transfer the nativity of christ from the sixth of january to the twenty-fifth of december, for the purpose of diverting to their lord the worship which the heathen had hitherto paid on that day to the sun.[ ] [the yule log is the midwinter counterpart of the midsummer bonfire.] in modern christendom the ancient fire-festival of the winter solstice appears to survive, or to have survived down to recent years, in the old custom of the yule log, clog, or block, as it was variously called in england.[ ] the custom was widespread in europe, but seems to have flourished especially in england, france, and among the south slavs; at least the fullest accounts of the custom come from these quarters. that the yule log was only the winter counterpart of the midsummer bonfire, kindled within doors instead of in the open air on account of the cold and inclement weather of the season, was pointed out long ago by our english antiquary john brand;[ ] and the view is supported by the many quaint superstitions attaching to the yule log, superstitions which have no apparent connexion with christianity but carry their heathen origin plainly stamped upon them. but while the two solstitial celebrations were both festivals of fire, the necessity or desirability of holding the winter celebration within doors lent it the character of a private or domestic festivity, which contrasts strongly with the publicity of the summer celebration, at which the people gathered on some open space or conspicuous height, kindled a huge bonfire in common, and danced and made merry round it together. [the yule log in germany; the yule log in switzerland.] among the germans the custom of the yule log is known to have been observed in the eleventh century; for in the year the parish priest of ahlen, in münsterland, spoke of "bringing a tree to kindle the festal fire at the lord's nativity."[ ] down to about the middle of the nineteenth century the old rite was kept up in some parts of central germany, as we learn from an account of it given by a contemporary writer. after mentioning the custom of feeding the cattle and shaking the fruit-trees on christmas night, to make them bear fruit, he goes on as follows: "other customs pointing back to the far-off times of heathendom may still be met with among the old-fashioned peasants of the mountain regions. such is in the valleys of the sieg and lahn the practice of laying a new log as a foundation of the hearth. a heavy block of oak-wood, generally a stump grubbed up from the ground, is fitted either into the floor of the hearth, or into a niche made for the purpose in the wall under the hook on which the kettle hangs. when the fire on the hearth glows, this block of wood glows too, but it is so placed that it is hardly reduced to ashes within a year. when the new foundation is laid, the remains of the old block are carefully taken out, ground to powder, and strewed over the fields during the twelve nights. this, so people fancied, promotes the fruitfulness of the year's crops."[ ] in some parts of the eifel mountains, to the west of coblentz, a log of wood called the _christbrand_ used to be placed on the hearth on christmas eve; and the charred remains of it on twelfth night were put in the corn-bin to keep the mice from devouring the corn.[ ] at weidenhausen and girkshausen, in westphalia, the practice was to withdraw the yule log (_christbrand_) from the fire so soon as it was slightly charred; it was then kept carefully to be replaced on the fire whenever a thunder-storm broke, because the people believed that lightning would not strike a house in which the yule log was smouldering.[ ] in some villages near berleburg in westphalia the old custom was to tie up the yule log in the last sheaf cut at harvest.[ ] on christmas eve the peasantry of the oberland, in meiningen, a province of central germany, used to put a great block of wood called the _christklots_ on the fire before they went to bed; it should burn all night, and the charred remains were believed to guard the house for the whole year against the risk of fire, burglary, and other misfortunes.[ ] the yule log seems to be known only in the french-speaking parts of switzerland, where it goes by the usual french name of _bûche de noël_. in the jura mountains of the canton of bern, while the log is burning on the hearth the people sing a blessing over it as follows:-- "_may the log burn! may all good come in! may the women have children and the sheep lambs! white bread for every one and the vat full of wine_!" the embers of the yule log were kept carefully, for they were believed to be a protection against lightning.[ ] [the yule log in belgium.] "the christmas fires, which were formerly lit everywhere in the low countries, have fallen into disuse. but in flanders a great log of wood, called the _kersavondblok_ and usually cut from the roots of a fir or a beech, is still put on the fire; all the lights in the house are extinguished, and the whole family gathers round the log to spend part of the night in singing, in telling stories, especially about ghosts, were-wolves, and so on, and also in drinking gin. at grammont and in the neighbourhood of that town, where the yule log is called _kersmismot_, it is customary to set fire to the remainder of the gin at the moment when the log is reduced to ashes. elsewhere a piece of the log is kept and put under the bed to protect the house against thunder and lightning. the charcoal of the log which burned during christmas night, if pounded up and mixed with water, is a cure for consumption. in the country of limburg the log burns several nights, and the pounded charcoal is kept as a preventive (so they say), of toothache."[ ] [the yule log in france.] in several provinces of france, and particularly in provence, the custom of the yule log or _tréfoir_, as it was called in many places, was long observed. a french writer of the seventeenth century tells us that on christmas eve the log was prepared, and when the whole family had assembled in the kitchen or parlour of the house, they went and brought it in, walking in procession and singing provençal verses to the following effect:-- "_let the log rejoice, to-morrow is the day of bread; let all good enter here; let the women bear children; let the she-goats bring forth kids; let the ewes drop lambs; let there be much wheat and flour, and the vat full of wine_." then the log was blessed by the smallest and youngest child of the house, who poured a glass of wine over it saying, _in nomine patris_, etc.; after which the log was set on the fire. the charcoal of the burnt wood was kept the whole year, and used as an ingredient in several remedies.[ ] [french superstitions as to the yule log.] amongst the superstitions denounced by the same writer is "the belief that a log called the _trefoir_ or christmas brand, which you put on the fire for the first time on christmas eve and continue to put on the fire for a little while every day till twelfth night, can, if kept under the bed, protect the house for a whole year from fire and thunder; that it can prevent the inmates from having chilblains on their heels in winter; that it can cure the cattle of many maladies; that if a piece of it be steeped in the water which cows drink it helps them to calve; and lastly that if the ashes of the log be strewn on the fields it can save the wheat from mildew."[ ] [the yule log at marseilles and in perigord; virtues ascribed to the charcoal and ashes of the burnt log; the yule log in berry.] in marseilles the yule log used to be a great block of oak, which went by the name of _calendeau_ or _calignau_; it was sprinkled with wine and oil, and the head of the house kindled it himself.[ ] "the yule log plays a great part at the festival of the winter solstice in perigord. the countryman thinks that it is best made of plum-tree, cherry, or oak, and that the larger it is the better. if it burns well, it is a good omen, the blessing of heaven rests upon it. the charcoal and ashes, which are collected very carefully, are excellent for healing swollen glands; the part of the trunk which has not been burnt in the fire is used by ploughmen to make the wedge (_técoin ou cale_) for their plough, because they allege that it causes the seeds to thrive better; and the women keep pieces of it till twelfth night for the sake of their chickens. nevertheless if you sit down on the log, you become subject to boils, and to cure yourself of them you must pass nine times under a bramble branch which happens to be rooted in the ground at both ends. the charcoal heals sheep of a disease called the _goumon_; and the ashes, carefully wrapt up in white linen, preserve the whole household from accidents. some people think that they will have as many chickens as there are sparks that fly out of the brands of the log when they shake them; and others place the extinct brands under the bed to drive away vermin. in vienne, on christmas eve, when supper is over, the master of the house has a great log--the christmas brand--brought in, and then, surrounded by all the spectators gathered in profound silence, he sprinkles salt and water on the log. it is then put on the fire to burn during the three festivals; but they carefully preserve a piece to be kindled every time that it thunders."[ ] in berry, a district of central france, the yule log was called the _cosse de nau_, the last word being an abbreviation of the usual french word for christmas (noël). it consisted of an enormous tree-trunk, so heavy that the united strength of several men was needed to carry it in and place it on the hearth, where it served to feed the fire during the three days of the christmas festivity. strictly speaking, it should be the trunk of an old oak-tree which had never been lopped and had been felled at midnight. it was placed on the hearth at the moment when the tinkle of the bell announced the elevation of the host at the midnight mass; and the head of the family, after sprinkling it with holy water, set it on fire. the remains of the log were preserved till the same day next year. they were kept under the bed of the master of the house; and whenever thunder was heard, one of the family would take a piece of the log and throw it on the fire, which was believed to guard the family against lightning. in the middle ages, we are told, several fiefs were granted on condition that the vassal should bring in person a yule log every year for the hearth of his liege lord.[ ] [the yule log in normandy and brittany.] similar customs and beliefs survived till recent years in some of the remote country villages of the picturesque district known as the bocage of normandy. there it was the grandfather or other oldest man of the family who chose the yule log in good time and had it ready for christmas eve. then he placed it on the hearth at the moment when the church bell began to ring for the evening service. kneeling reverently at the hearth with the members of his family in a like attitude of devotion, the old man recited three _pater nosters_ and three _aves_, and invoked the blessing of heaven on the log and on the cottage. then at the sound of the bell which proclaimed the sacrament of the mass, or, if the church was too far off to allow the tinkle of the bell to be heard, at the moment when they judged that the priest was elevating the host before the high altar, the patriarch sprinkled the burning log with holy water, blessed it in the name of the father and of the son and of the holy ghost, and drew it out of the fire. the charred log was then carefully kept till the following christmas as a precious relic which would guard the house against the levin bolt, evil spirits, sorcerers, and every misfortune that might befall in the course of the year.[ ] in the department of orne "the yule-log is called _trefouet_; holy water is poured on it; it should last the three days of the festival, and the remains of it are kept to be put on the fire when it thunders. this brand is a protection both against thunder and against sorcerers."[ ] in upper brittany, also, the yule log is thought to be a safeguard against thunder and lightning. it is sprinkled with holy water on christmas morning and allowed to burn till evening. if a piece of it is thrown into the well, it will ensure a supply of good water.[ ] [the yule log in the ardennes.] "in almost all the families of the ardennes," we are told, "at the present day they never fail to put the yule log on the fireplace, but formerly it was the object of a superstitious worship which is now obsolete. the charred remains of it, placed under the pillow or under the house, preserved the house from storms, and before it was burned the virgin used to come and sit on it, invisible, swaddling the infant jesus. at nouzon, twenty years ago, the traditional log was brought into the kitchen on christmas eve, and the grandmother, with a sprig of box in her hand, sprinkled the log with holy water as soon as the clock struck the first stroke of midnight. as she did so she chanted, '_when christmas comes, every one should rejoice, for it is a new covenant_.' "following the grandmother and joining in the song, the children and the rest of the family marched thrice round the log, which was as fine a log as could be got."[ ] we can now, perhaps, understand why in perigord people who sat on the yule log suffered from boils,[ ] and why in lorraine young folks used to be warned that if they sat on it they would have the scab.[ ] the reason probably was that the virgin and child were supposed to be seated, invisible, upon the log and to resent the indignity of contact with mortal children. [the yule log in the vosges; the yule log in franche-comté and burgundy.] on christmas eve the mountaineers of rupt, in the vosges, also never fail to put on the hearth the largest log which the hearth can hold; they call it _la galeuche de noë_, that is, the yule log. next morning they rake the ashes for any charred fragments and keep them as valuable talismans to guard them against the stroke of lightning. at vagney and other places near it in the vosges it used to be customary on the same evening to grease the hinges and the latches of the doors, that no harsh grating sound should break the slumbers of the infant christ. in the vosges mountains, too, as indeed in many other places, cattle acquired the gift of speech on christmas eve and conversed with each other in the language of christians. their conversation was, indeed, most instructive; for the future, it seems, had no secret worth mentioning for them. yet few people cared to be caught eavesdropping at the byre; wise folk contented themselves with setting a good store of fodder in the manger, then shut the door, and left the animals to their ruminations. a farmer of vecoux once hid in a corner of the byre to overhear the edifying talk of the beasts. but it did him little good; for one ox said to another ox, "what shall we do to-morrow?" and the other replied, "we shall carry our master to the churchyard." sure enough the farmer died that very night and was buried next morning.[ ] in franche-comté, the province of france to the west of the jura mountains, if the yule log is really to protect a house against thunder and lightning, it is essential that it should burn during the midnight mass, and that the flame should not go out before the divine service is concluded. otherwise the log is quite useless for the purpose.[ ] in burgundy the log which is placed on the fire on christmas eve is called the _suche_. while it is burning, the father of the family, assisted by his wife and children, sings christmas carols; and when he has finished, he tells the smallest children to go into a corner of the room and pray god that the log may give them sweeties. the prayer is invariably answered.[ ] [the yule log and the yule candle in england.] in england the customs and beliefs concerning the yule log, clog, or block, as it was variously called, used to be similar. on the night of christmas eve, says the antiquary john brand, "our ancestors were wont to light up candles of an uncommon size, called christmas candles, and lay a log of wood upon the fire, called a yule-clog or christmas-block, to illuminate the house, and, as it were, to turn night into day. this custom is, in some measure, still kept up in the north of england. in the buttery of st. john's college, oxford, an ancient candle-socket of stone still remains ornamented with the figure of the holy lamb. it was formerly used to burn the christmas candle in, on the high table at supper, during the twelve nights of that festival."[ ] "a tall mould candle, called a yule candle, is lighted and set on the table; these candles are presented by the chandlers and grocers to their customers. the yule-log is bought of the carpenters' lads. it would be unlucky to light either of them before the time, or to stir the fire or candle during the supper; the candle must not be snuffed, neither must any one stir from the table till supper is ended. in these suppers it is considered unlucky to have an odd number at table. a fragment of the log is occasionally saved, and put under a bed, to remain till next christmas: it secures the house from fire; a small piece of it thrown into a fire occurring at the house of a neighbour, will quell the raging flame. a piece of the candle should likewise be kept to ensure good luck."[ ] in the seventeenth century, as we learn from some verses of herrick, the english custom was to light the yule log with a fragment of its predecessor, which had been kept throughout the year for the purpose; where it was so kept, the fiend could do no mischief.[ ] indeed the practice of preserving a piece of the yule-log of one year to light that of the next was observed by at least one family at cheadle in staffordshire down to the latter part of the nineteenth century.[ ] [the yule-log in yorkshire; the yule log in lincolnshire; the yule log in warwickshire, shropshire, and herefordshire; the yule log in wales.] in the north of england farm-servants used to lay by a large knotty block of wood for the christmas fire, and so long as the block lasted they were entitled by custom to ale at their meals. the log was as large as the hearth could hold.[ ] at belford, in northumberland, "the lord of the manor sends round to every house, on the afternoon of christmas eve, the yule logs--four or five large logs--to be burnt on christmas eve and day. this old custom has always, i am told, been kept up here."[ ] the custom of burning the yule log at christmas used to be observed in wensleydale and other parts of yorkshire, and prudent housewives carefully preserved pieces of the log throughout the year. at whitby the portions so kept were stowed away under the bed till next christmas, when they were burnt with the new log; in the interval they were believed to protect the house from conflagration, and if one of them were thrown into the fire, it would quell a raging storm.[ ] the practice and the belief were similar at filey on the coast of yorkshire, where besides the yule log a tall yule candle was lit on the same evening.[ ] in the west riding, while the log blazed cheerfully, the people quaffed their ale and sang, "yule! yule! a pack of new cards and a christmas stool!"[ ] at clee, in lincolnshire, "when christmas eve has come the yule cake is duly cut and the yule log lit, and i know of some even middle-class houses where the new log must always rest upon and be lighted by the old one, a small portion of which has been carefully stored away to preserve a continuity of light and heat."[ ] at the village of wootton wawen in warwickshire, down to at least, the yule-block, as it was called, was drawn into the house by a horse on christmas eve "as a foundation for the fire on christmas day, and according to the superstition of those times for the twelve days following, as the said block was not to be entirely reduced to ashes till that time had passed by."[ ] as late as , or thereabout, the scene of lighting the hearth-fire on christmas eve, to continue burning throughout the christmas season, might have been witnessed in the secluded and beautiful hill-country of west shropshire, from chirbury and worthen to pulverbatch and pontesbury. the christmas brand or brund, as they called it, was a great trunk of seasoned oak, holly, yew, or crab-tree, drawn by horses to the farm-house door and thence rolled by means of rollers and levers to the back of the wide open hearth, where the fire was made up in front of it. the embers were raked up to it every night, and it was carefully tended, that it might not go out during the whole christmas season. all those days no light might be struck, given, or borrowed. such was the custom at worthen in the early part of the nineteenth century.[ ] in herefordshire the christmas feast "lasted for twelve days, and no work was done. all houses were, and are now, decorated with sprigs of holly and ivy, which must not be brought in until christmas eve. a yule log, as large as the open hearth could accommodate, was brought into the kitchen of each farmhouse, and smaller ones were used in the cottages. w---- p---- said he had seen a tree drawn into the kitchen at kingstone grange years ago by two cart horses; when it had been consumed a small portion was carefully kept to be used for lighting next year's log. 'mother always kept it very carefully; she said it was lucky, and kept the house from fire and from lightning.' it seems to have been the general practice to light it on christmas eve."[ ] "in many parts of wales it is still customary to keep part of the yule-log until the following christmas eve 'for luck.' it is then put into the fireplace and burnt, but before it is consumed the new log is put on, and thus 'the old fire and the new' burn together. in some families this is done from force of habit, and they cannot now tell why they do it; but in the past the observance of this custom was to keep witches away, and doubtless was a survival of fire-worship."[ ] [the yule log in servia; the cutting of the oak tree to form the yule log.] but nowhere, apparently, in europe is the old heathen ritual of the yule log preserved to the present day more perfectly than in servia. at early dawn on christmas eve (_badnyi dan_) every peasant house sends two of its strongest young men to the nearest forest to cut down a young oak tree and bring it home. there, after offering up a short prayer or crossing themselves thrice, they throw a handful of wheat on the chosen oak and greet it with the words, "happy _badnyi_ day to you!" then they cut it down, taking care that it shall fall towards the east at the moment when the sun's orb appears over the rim of the eastern horizon. should the tree fall towards the west, it would be the worst possible omen for the house and its inmates in the ensuing year; and it is also an evil omen if the tree should be caught and stopped in its fall by another tree. it is important to keep and carry home the first chip from the fallen oak. the trunk is sawn into two or three logs, one of them rather longer than the others. a flat, unleavened cake of the purest wheaten flour is brought out of the house and broken on the larger of the logs by a woman. the logs are left for the present to stand outside, leaning on one of the walls of the house. each of them is called a yule log (_badnyak_). [prayers to colleda.] meanwhile the children and young people go from house to house singing special songs called _colleda_ because of an old pagan divinity colleda, who is invoked in every line. in one of them she is spoken of as "a beautiful little maid"; in another she is implored to make the cows yield milk abundantly. the day is spent in busy preparations. the women bake little cakes of a special sort in the shape of lambs, pigs, and chickens; the men make ready a pig for roasting, for in every servian house roast pig is the principal dish at christmas. a bundle of straw, tied with a rope, is brought into the courtyard and left to stand there near the yule logs. [the bringing in of the yule log.] at the moment when the sun is setting all the members of the family assemble in the central hall (the great family kitchen) of the principal house. the mother of the family (or the wife of the chief of the zadrooga)[ ] gives a pair of woollen gloves to one of the young men, who goes out and presently returns carrying in his gloved hands the largest of the logs. the mother receives him at the threshold, throwing at him a handful of wheat, in which the first chip of the oak tree cut in the early morning for the yule log has been kept all day. entering the central hall with the yule log the young man greets all present with the words: "good evening, and may you have a happy christmas!" and they all answer in chorus, "may god and the happy and holy christmas help thee!" in some parts of servia the chief of the family, holding a glass of red wine in his hand, greets the yule log as if it were a living person, and drinks to its health. after that, another glass of red wine is poured on the log. then the oldest male member of the family, assisted by the young man who brought in the log, places it on the burning fire so that the thicker end of the log protrudes for about a foot from the hearth. in some places this end is smeared with honey. [the ceremony with the straw; the yule candle.] next the mother of the family brings in the bundle of straw which was left standing outside. all the young children arrange themselves behind her in a row. she then walks slowly round the hall and the adjoining rooms, throwing handfuls of straw on the floor and imitating the cackling of a hen, while all the children follow her peeping with their lips as if they were chickens cheeping and waddling after the mother bird. when the floor is well strewn with straw, the father or the eldest member of the family throws a few walnuts in every corner of the hall, pronouncing the words: "in the name of god the father, and the son, and the holy ghost, amen!" a large pot, or a small wooden box, filled with wheat is placed high in the east corner of the hall, and a tall candle of yellow wax is stuck in the middle of the wheat. then the father of the family reverently lights the candle and prays god to bless the family with health and happiness, the fields with a good harvest, the beehives with plenty of honey, the cattle and sheep with young, and the cows with abundant milk and rich cream. after that they all sit down to supper, squatting on the floor, for the use of chairs and tables is forbidden on this occasion. [the roast pig; the drawing of the water.] by four o'clock next morning (christmas day) the whole village is astir; indeed most people do not sleep at all that night. it is deemed most important to keep the yule log burning brightly all night long. very early, too, the pig is laid on the fire to roast, and at the same moment one of the family goes out into the yard and fires a pistol or gun; and when the roast pig is removed from the fire the shot is repeated. hence for several hours in the early morning of christmas day such a popping and banging of firearms goes on that a stranger might think a stubborn skirmish was in progress. just before the sun rises a girl goes and draws water at the village spring or at the brook. before she fills her vessels, she wishes the water a happy christmas and throws a handful of wheat into it. the first cupfuls of water she brings home are used to bake a special christmas cake (_chesnitsa_), of which all the members partake at dinner, and portions are kept for absent relatives. a small silver coin is baked in the cake, and he or she who gets it will be lucky during the year. [the christmas visiter (_polaznik_).] all the family gathered round the blazing yule log now anxiously expect the arrival of the special christmas visiter, who bears the title of _polaznik_. he is usually a young boy of a friendly family. no other person, not even the priest or the mayor of the village, would be allowed to set foot in the house before the arrival of this important personage. therefore he ought to come, and generally does come, very early in the morning. he carries a woollen glove full of wheat, and when the door is opened at his knock he throws handfuls of wheat on the family gathered round the hearth, greeting them with the words, "christ is born!" they all answer, "he is born indeed," and the hostess flings a handful of wheat over the christmas visiter, who moreover casts some of his wheat into the corners of the hall as well as upon the people. then he walks straight to the hearth, takes a shovel and strikes the burning log so that a cloud of sparks flies up the chimney, while he says, "may you have this year so many oxen, so many horses, so many sheep, so many pigs, so many beehives full of honey, so much good luck, prosperity, progress, and happiness!" having uttered these good wishes, he embraces and kisses his host. then he turns again to the hearth, and after crossing himself falls on his knees and kisses the projecting part of the yule log. on rising to his feet he places a coin on the log as his gift. meanwhile a low wooden chair has been brought in by a woman, and the visiter is led to it to take his seat. but just as he is about to do so, the chair is jerked away from under him by a male member of the family and he measures his length on the floor. by this fall he is supposed to fix into the ground all the good wishes which he has uttered that morning. the hostess thereupon wraps him in a thick blanket, and he sits quietly muffled in it for a few minutes; the thick blanket in which he is swathed is believed, on the principles of homoeopathic magic, to ensure that the cows will give thick cream next year. while he sits thus enriching the milk of the dairy, the lads who are to herd the sheep in the coming year go to the hearth and kneeling down before it kiss each other across the projecting end of the yule log. by this demonstration of affection they are thought to seal the love of the ewes for their lambs.[ ] [the yule log among the servians of slavonia; the christmas visiter (_polazenik_).] the ritual of the yule log is observed in a similar form by the servians who inhabit the southern provinces of austria. thus in syrmia, a district of slavonia which borders on servia, the head of the house sends out one or two young men on christmas eve to cut the yule log in the nearest forest. on being brought in, the log is not mixed with the ordinary fuel but placed by itself, generally leaning against a fruit-tree till the evening shadows begin to fall. when a man carries it into the kitchen and lays it on the fire, the master of the house throws corn over him, and the two greet each other solemnly the one saying, "christ is born," and the other answering "he is born indeed." later in the evening the master of the house pours a glass of wine on the charred end of the log, whereupon one of the younger men takes the burnt piece of wood, carries it to the orchard, and sets it up against one of the fruit-trees. for this service he is rewarded by the master of the house with a piece of money. on christmas day, when the family is assembled at table, they expect the arrival of the special christmas visiter (called _polazenik_), the only person who is allowed to enter the house that day. when he comes, he goes to the hearth, stirs the fire with the poker and says, "christ is born. may the family enjoy all good luck and happiness in this year! may the cattle increase in number like the sparks i have struck!" as he says these words, the mistress of the house pours corn over him and leads him to the parlour, where he takes the place of honour beside the master of the house. he is treated with marked attention and respect. the family are at pains to entertain him; they sing their best songs for his amusement, and after midnight a numerous band of men and maidens escorts him by torchlight, with songs and jubilation, to his own house.[ ] [the yule log among the servians of dalmatia, herzegovina, and montenegro; the yule log in albania.] among the servians of dalmatia, herzegovina, and montenegro it is customary on christmas eve (_badnyi dan_) to fetch a great yule log (_badnyak_), which serves as a symbol of family luck. it is generally cut from an evergreen oak, but sometimes from an olive-tree or a beech. at nightfall the master of the house himself brings in the log and lays it on the fire. then he and all present bare their heads, sprinkle the log with wine, and make a cross on it. after that the master of the house says, "welcome, o log! may god keep you from mishap!" so saying he strews peas, maize, raisins, and wheat on the log, praying for god's blessing on all members of the family living and dead, for heaven's blessing on their undertakings, and for domestic prosperity. in montenegro they meet the log with a loaf of bread and a jug of wine, drink to it, and pour wine on it, whereupon the whole family drinks out of the same beaker. in dalmatia and other places, for example in rizano, the yule logs are decked by young women with red silk, flowers, laurel leaves, ribbons, and even gold wire; and the lights near the doorposts are kindled when the log is brought into the house. among the morlaks, as soon as the master of the house crosses the threshold with the yule log, one of the family must sprinkle corn on him and say, "god bless you," to which he answers, "the same to you." a piece of the log is kept till new year's day to kindle a light with or it is carried out to the fields to protect them from hail. it is customary to invite before hand a christmas visitor (_polazaynik_) and to admit no one else into the house on that day. he comes early, carrying in his sleeves a quantity of corn which he throws into the house, saying, "christ is born." one of the household replies, "he is born indeed," and throws corn on the visiter. then the newcomer goes up to the hearth, pokes the fire and strikes the burning log with the poker so hard that sparks fly off in all directions. at each blow he says, "i wish the family as many cows, calves, sucking pigs, goats, and sheep, and as many strokes of good luck, as the sparks that now fly from the log." with these words he throws some small coins into the ashes.[ ] in albania down to recent years it was a common custom to burn a yule log at christmas, and with it corn, maize, and beans; moreover, wine and _rakia_ were poured on the flames, and the ashes of the fire were scattered on the fields to make them fertile.[ ] the huzuls, a slavonic people of the carpathians, kindle fire by the friction of wood on christmas eve (old style, the fifth of january) and keep it burning till twelfth night.[ ] [belief that the yule log protects against fire and lightning.] it is remarkable how common the belief appears to have been that the remains of the yule-log, if kept throughout the year, had power to protect the house against fire and especially against lightning.[ ] as the yule log was frequently of oak,[ ] it seems possible that this belief may be a relic of the old aryan creed which associated the oak-tree with the god of thunder.[ ] whether the curative and fertilizing virtues ascribed to the ashes of the yule log, which are supposed to heal cattle as well as men, to enable cows to calve, and to promote the fruitfulness of the earth,[ ] may not be derived from the same ancient source, is a question which deserves to be considered. [public celebrations of the fire-festival at midwinter; the bonfire on christmas eve at schweina in thuringia.] thus far we have regarded only the private or domestic celebration of the fire-festival at midwinter. the public celebration of such rites at that season of the year appears to have been rare and exceptional in central and northern europe. however, some instances are on record. thus at schweina, in thuringia, down to the second half of the nineteenth century, the young people used to kindle a great bonfire on the antonius mountain every year on christmas eve. neither the civil nor the ecclesiastical authorities were able to suppress the celebration; nor could the cold, rain, and snow of the season damp or chill the enthusiasm of the celebrants. for some time before christmas the young men and boys were busy building a foundation for the bonfire on the top of the mountain, where the oldest church of the village used to stand. the foundation consisted of a pyramidal structure composed of stones, turf, and moss. when christmas eve came round, a strong pole, with bundles of brushwood tied to it, was erected on the pyramid. the young folk also provided themselves with poles to which old brooms or faggots of shavings were attached. these were to serve as torches. when the evening grew dark and the church bells rang to service, the troop of lads ascended the mountain; and soon from the top the glare of the bonfire lit up the darkness, and the sound of a hymn broke the stillness of night. in a circle round the great fire lesser fires were kindled; and last of all the lads ran about swinging their lighted torches, till these twinkling points of fire, moving down the mountain-side, went out one by one in the darkness. at midnight the bells rang out from the church tower, mingled with the blast of horns and the sound of singing. feasting and revelry were kept up throughout the night, and in the morning young and old went to early mass to be edified by hearing of the light eternal.[ ] [bonfires on christmas eve in normandy.] in the bocage of normandy the peasants used to repair, often from a distance of miles, to the churches to hear the midnight mass on christmas eve. they marched in procession by torchlight, chanting christmas carols, and the fitful illumination of the woods, the hedges, and the fields as they moved through the darkness, presented a succession of picturesque scenes. mention is also made of bonfires kindled on the heights; the custom is said to have been observed at athis near condé down to recent years.[ ] [bonfires on st. thomas's day in the isle of man; the "burning of the clavie" at burghead on the last day of december; the old rampart at burghead] in the isle of man, "on the twenty-first of december, a day dedicated to saint thomas, the people went to the mountains to catch deer and sheep for christmas, and in the evenings always kindled a large fire on the top of every _fingan_ or cliff. hence, at the time of casting peats, every one laid aside a large one, saying, '_faaid mooar moayney son oie'l fingan_'; that is, 'a large turf for fingan eve.'"[ ] at burghead, an ancient village on the southern shore of the moray firth, about nine miles from the town of elgin, a festival of fire called "the burning of the clavie" has been celebrated from time immemorial on hogmanay, the last day of december. a tar-barrel is sawn in two, one half of it is set on the top of a stout pole, and filled with tar and other combustibles. the half-barrel is fastened to the pole by means of a long nail, which is made for the purpose and furnished gratuitously by the village blacksmith. the nail must be knocked in with a stone; the use of a hammer is forbidden. when the shades of evening have begun to fall, the clavie, as it is called, is set on fire by means of a burning peat, which is always fetched from the same house; it may not be kindled with a match. as soon as it is in a blaze, it is shouldered by a man, who proceeds to carry it at a run, flaring and dripping melted tar, round the old boundaries of the village; the modern part of the town is not included in the circuit. close at his heels follows a motley crowd, cheering and shouting. one bearer relieves another as each wearies of his burden. the first to shoulder the clavie, which is esteemed an honour, is usually a man who has been lately married. should the bearer stumble or fall, it is deemed a very ill omen for him and for the village. in bygone times it was thought necessary that one man should carry it all round the village; hence the strongest man was chosen for the purpose. moreover it was customary to carry the burning clavie round every fishing-boat and vessel in the harbour; but this part of the ceremony was afterwards discontinued. finally, the blazing tar-barrel is borne to a small hill called the doorie, which rises near the northern end of the promontory. here the pole is fixed into a socket in a pillar of freestone, and fresh fuel is heaped upon the flames, which flare up higher and brighter than ever. formerly the clavie was allowed to burn here the whole night, but now, after blazing for about half an hour, it is lifted from the socket and thrown down the western slope of the hill. then the crowd rushes upon it, demolishes it, and scrambles for the burning, smoking embers, which they carry home and carefully preserve as charms to protect them against witchcraft and misfortune.[ ] the great antiquity of burghead, where this curious and no doubt ancient festival is still annually observed, appears from the remains of a very remarkable rampart which formerly encircled the place. it consists of a mound of earth faced on both sides with a solid wall of stone and strengthened internally by oak beams and planks, the whole being laid on a foundation of boulders. the style of the rampart agrees in general with caesar's description of the mode in which the gauls constructed their walls of earth, stone, and logs,[ ] and it resembles the ruins of gallic fortifications which have been discovered in france, though it is said to surpass them in the strength and solidity of its structure. no similar walls appear to be known in britain. a great part of this interesting prehistoric fortress was barbarously destroyed in the early part of the nineteenth century, much of it being tumbled into the sea and many of the stones used to build the harbour piers.[ ] [procession with burning tar-barrels on christmas eve (old style) at lerwick.] in lerwick, the capital of the shetland islands, "on christmas eve, the fourth of january,--for the old style is still observed--the children go _a guizing_, that is to say, they disguising themselves in the most fantastic and gaudy costumes, parade the streets, and infest the houses and shops, begging for the wherewithal to carry on their christmas amusements. one o'clock on yule morning having struck, the young men turn out in large numbers, dressed in the coarsest of garments, and, at the double-quick march, drag huge tar barrels through the town, shouting and cheering as they go, or blowing loud blasts with their 'louder horns.' the tar barrel simply consists of several--say from four to eight--tubs filled with tar and chips, placed on a platform of wood. it is dragged by means of a chain, to which scores of jubilant youths readily yoke themselves. they have recently been described by the worthy burgh officer of lerwick as 'fiery chariots, the effect of which is truly grand and terrific.' in a christmas morning the dark streets of lerwick are generally lighted up by the bright glare, and its atmosphere blackened by the dense smoke of six or eight tar barrels in succession. on the appearance of daybreak, at six a.m., the morning revellers put off their coarse garments--well begrimed by this time--and in their turn become guizards. they assume every imaginable form of costume--those of soldiers, sailors, highlanders, spanish chevaliers, etc. thus disguised, they either go in pairs, as man and wife, or in larger groups, and proceed to call on their friends, to wish them the compliments of the season. formerly, these adolescent guizards used to seat themselves in crates, and accompanied by fiddlers, were dragged through the town."[ ] [persian festival of fire at the winter solstice.] the persians used to celebrate a festival of fire called _sada_ or _saza_ at the winter solstice. on the longest night of the year they kindled bonfires everywhere, and kings and princes tied dry grass to the feet of birds and animals, set fire to the grass, and then let the birds and beasts fly or run blazing through the air or over the fields and mountains, so that the whole air and earth appeared to be on fire.[ ] § . _the need-fire_ [european festivals of fire in seasons of distress and calamity; the need-fire.] the fire-festivals hitherto described are all celebrated periodically at certain stated times of the year. but besides these regularly recurring celebrations the peasants in many parts of europe have been wont from time immemorial to resort to a ritual of fire at irregular intervals in seasons of distress and calamity, above all when their cattle were attacked by epidemic disease. no account of the popular european fire-festivals would be complete without some notice of these remarkable rites, which have all the greater claim on our attention because they may perhaps be regarded as the source and origin of all the other fire-festivals; certainly they must date from a very remote antiquity. the general name by which they are known among the teutonic peoples is need-fire.[ ] [the needfire in the middle ages; the needfire at neustadt in .] the history of the need-fire can be traced back to early middle ages; for in the reign of pippin, king of franks, the practice of kindling need-fires was denounced as a heathen superstition by a synod of prelates and nobles held under the presidency of boniface, archbishop of mainz.[ ] not long afterwards the custom was again forbidden, along with many more relics of expiring paganism, in an "index of superstitions and heathenish observances," which has been usually referred to the year a.d., though some scholars assign it a later date under the reign of charlemagne.[ ] in germany the need-fires would seem to have been popular down to the second half of the nineteenth century. thus in the year , when a fatal cattle-plague was raging at neustadt, near marburg, a wise man of the name of joh. köhler induced the authorities of the town to adopt the following remedy. a new waggon-wheel was taken and twirled round an axle, which had never been used before, until the friction elicited fire. with this fire a bonfire was next kindled between the gates of the town, and all the cattle were driven through the smoke and flames. moreover, every householder had to rekindle the fire on his hearth by means of a light taken from the bonfire. strange to say, this salutary measure had no effect whatever in staying the cattle-plague, and seven years later the sapient joh. köhler himself was burnt as a witch. the farmers, whose pigs and cows had derived no benefit from the need-fire, perhaps assisted as spectators at the burning, and, while they shook their heads, agreed among themselves that it served joh. köhler perfectly right.[ ] according to a writer who published his book about nine years afterwards, some of the germans, especially in the wassgaw mountains, confidently believed that a cattle-plague could be stayed by driving the animals through a need-fire which had been kindled by the violent friction of a pole on a quantity of dry oak wood; but it was a necessary condition of success that all fires in the village should previously be extinguished with water, and any householder who failed to put out his fire was heavily fined.[ ] [method kindling the need fire.] the method of kindling the need-fire is described as follows by a writer towards the end of the seventeenth century: "when an evil plague has broken out among the cattle, large and small, and the herds have thereby suffered great ravages, the peasants resolve to light a need-fire. on a day appointed there must be no single flame in any house nor on any hearth. from every house a quantity of straw and water and underwood must be brought forth; then a strong oaken pole is fixed firmly in the earth, a hole is bored in it, and a wooden winch, well smeared with pitch and tar, is inserted in the hole and turned round forcibly till great heat and then fire is generated. the fire so produced is caught in fuel and fed with straw, heath, and underwood till it bursts out into a regular need-fire, which must then be somewhat spread out between walls or fences, and the cattle and horses driven through it twice or thrice with sticks and whips. others set up two posts, each with a hole in it, and insert a winch, along with old greasy rags, in the holes. others use a thick rope, collect nine kinds of wood, and keep them in violent motion till fire leaps forth. perhaps there may be other ways of generating or kindling this fire, but they are all directed simply at the cure of the cattle. after passing twice or thrice through the fire the cattle are driven to their stalls or to pasture, and the heap of wood that had been collected is destroyed, but in some places every householder must take with him a brand, extinguish it in a washing-tub or trough, and put it in the manger where the cattle are fed, where it must lie for some time. the poles that were used to make the need-fire, together with the wood that was employed as a winch, are sometimes burned with the rest of the fuel, sometimes carefully preserved after the cattle have been thrice driven through the flames."[ ] [the mode of kindling the need-fire about hildesheim.] sometimes the need-fire was known as the "wild fire," to distinguish it no doubt from the tame fire produced by more ordinary methods. the following is grimm's account of the mode of kindling it which prevailed in some parts of central germany, particularly about hildesheim, down apparently to the first half of the nineteenth century: "in many places of lower saxony, especially among the mountains, the custom prevails of preparing the so-called 'wild fire' for the purpose of preventing cattle-plague; and through it first the pigs, then the cows, and last of all the geese are driven. the proceedings on the occasion are as follows. the principal farmers and parishioners assemble, and notice is served to every inhabitant to extinguish entirely all fire in his house, so that not even a spark remains alight in the whole village. then young and old repair to a road in a hollow, usually towards evening, the women carrying linen, and the men wood and tow. two oaken poles are driven into the ground about a foot and a half from each other. each pole has in the side facing the other a socket into which a cross-piece as thick as a man's arm is fitted. the sockets are stuffed with linen, and the cross-piece is rammed in as tight as possible, while the poles are bound together at the top by ropes. a rope is wound about the round, smooth cross-piece, and the free ends of the rope at both sides are gripped by several persons, who pull the cross-piece to and fro with the utmost rapidity, till through the friction the linen in the sockets takes fire. the sparks of the linen are immediately caught in tow or oakum and waved about in a circle until they burst into a bright glow, when straw is applied to it, and the flaming straw used to kindle the brushwood which has been stacked in piles in the hollow way. when this wood has blazed up and the fire has nearly died out again, the people hasten to the herds, which have been waiting in the background, and drive them forcibly, one after the other, through the glow. as soon as all the beasts are through, the young folk rush wildly at the ashes and cinders, sprinkling and blackening each other with them; those who have been most sprinkled and blackened march in triumph behind the cattle into the village and do not wash themselves for a long time. if after long rubbing the linen should not catch fire, they guess that there is still fire somewhere in the village; then a strict search is made from house to house, any fire that may be found is put out, and the householder is punished or upbraided. the 'wild fire' must be made by prolonged friction; it may not be struck with flint and steel. some villages do not prepare it yearly as a preventive of cattle-plague, but only kindle it when the disease has actually broken out."[ ] in the halberstadt district the ends of the rope which was used to make the cross-piece revolve in the sockets had to be pulled by two chaste young men.[ ] [the mode of kindling the need-fire in the mark.] in the mark down to the first half of the nineteenth century the practice was similar. we read that "in many parts of the mark there still prevails on certain occasions the custom of kindling a need-fire, it happens particularly when a farmer has sick pigs. two posts of dry wood are planted in the earth amid solemn silence before the sun rises, and round these posts hempen ropes are pulled to and fro till the wood kindles; whereupon the fire is fed with dry leaves and twigs and the sick beasts are driven through it in some places the fire is produced by the friction of an old cart-wheel."[ ] [the mode of kindling the need-fire in mecklenburg] in mecklenburg the need-fire used to be lighted by the friction of a rope wound about an oaken pole or by rubbing two boards against each other. having been thus elicited, the flame was fed with wood of seven kinds. the practice was forbidden by gustavus adolphus, duke of mecklenburg, in ; but the prohibition apparently had little effect, for down to the end of the eighteenth century the custom was so common that the inhabitants even of large towns made no scruple of resorting to it. for example, in the month of july sickness broke out among the cattle belonging to the town of sternberg; some of the beasts died suddenly, and so the people resolved to drive all the survivors through a need-fire. on the tenth day of july the magistrates issued a proclamation announcing that next morning before sunrise a need-fire would be kindled for the behoof of all the cattle of the town, and warning all the inhabitants against lighting fires in their kitchens that evening. so next morning very early, about two o'clock, nearly the whole population was astir, and having assembled outside one of the gates of the town they helped to drive the timid cattle, not without much ado, through three separate need-fires; after which they dispersed to their homes in the unalterable conviction that they had rescued the cattle from destruction. but to make assurance doubly sure they deemed it advisable to administer the rest of the ashes as a bolus to the animals. however, some people in mecklenburg used to strew the ashes of the need-fire on fields for the purpose of protecting the crops against vermin. as late as june a traveller in mecklenburg saw a couple of peasants sweating away at a rope, which they were pulling backwards and forwards so as to make a tarry roller revolve with great speed in the socket of an upright post. asked what they were about, they vouchsafed no reply; but an old woman who appeared on the scene from a neighbouring cottage was more communicative. in the fulness of her heart she confided to the stranger that her pigs were sick, that the two taciturn bumpkins were her sons, who were busy extracting a need-fire from the roller, and that, when they succeeded, the flame would be used to ignite a heap of rags and brushwood, through which the ailing swine would be driven. she further explained that the persons who kindle a need-fire should always be two brothers or at least bear the same christian name.[ ] [the mode of kindling the need-fire in hanover.] in the summer of there was much sickness among the pigs and the cows of eddesse, a village near meinersen, in the south of hanover. when all ordinary measures to arrest the malady failed, the farmers met in solemn conclave on the village green and determined that next morning there should be a need-fire. thereupon the head man of the village sent word from house to house that on the following day nobody should kindle a fire before sunrise, and that everybody should stand by ready to drive out the cattle. the same afternoon all the necessary preparations were made for giving effect to the decision of the collective wisdom. a narrow street was enclosed with planks, and the village carpenter set to work at the machinery for kindling the fire. he took two posts of oak wood, bored a hole about three inches deep and broad in each, and set the two poles up facing each other at a distance of about two feet. then he fitted a roller of oak wood into the two holes of the posts, so that it formed a cross-piece between them. about two o'clock next morning every householder brought a bundle of straw and brushwood and laid it down across the street in a prescribed order. the sturdiest swains who could be found were chosen to make the need-fire. for this purpose a long hempen rope was wound twice round the oaken roller in the oaken posts: the pivots were well smeared with pitch and tar: a bundle of tow and other tinder was laid close at hand, and all was ready. the stalwart clodhoppers now seized the two ends of the rope and went to work with a will. puffs of smoke soon issued from the sockets, but to the consternation of the bystanders not a spark of fire could be elicited. some people openly declared their suspicion that some rascal had not put out the fire in his house, when suddenly the tinder burst into flame. the cloud passed away from all faces; the fire was applied to the heaps of fuel, and when the flames had somewhat died down, the herds were forcibly driven through the fire, first the pigs, next the cows, and last of all the horses. the herdsmen then drove the beasts to pasture, and persons whose faith in the efficacy of the need-fire was particularly robust carried home brands.[ ] [the mode of kindling the need-fire in the harz mountains.] again, at a village near quedlinburg, in the harz mountains, it was resolved to put a herd of sick swine through the need-fire. hearing of this intention the superintendent of quedlinburg hurried to the spot and has described for us what he saw. the beadles went from house to house to see that there was no fire in any house; for it is well known that should there be common fire burning in a house the need-fire will not kindle. the men made their rounds very early in the morning to make quite sure that all lights were out. at two o'clock a night-light was still burning in the parsonage, and this was of course a hindrance to the need-fire. the peasants knocked at the window and earnestly entreated that the night-light might be extinguished. but the parson's wife refused to put the light out; it still glimmered at the window; and in the darkness outside the angry rustics vowed that the parson's pigs should get no benefit of the need-fire. however, as good luck would have it, just as the morning broke, the night-light went out of itself, and the hopes of the people revived. from every house bundles of straw, tow, faggots and so forth were now carried to feed the bonfire. the noise and the cheerful bustle were such that you might have thought they were all hurrying to witness a public execution. outside the village, between two garden walls, an oaken post had been driven into the ground and a hole bored through it. in the hole a wooden winch, smeared with tar, was inserted and made to revolve with such force and rapidity that fire and smoke in time issued from the socket. the collected fuel was then thrown upon the fire and soon a great blaze shot up. the pigs were now driven into the upper end of the street. as soon as they saw the fire, they turned tail, but the peasants drove them through with shrieks and shouts and lashes of whips. at the other end of the street there was another crowd waiting, who chased the swine back through the fire a second time. then the other crowd repeated the manoeuvre, and the herd of swine was driven for the third time through the smoke and flames. that was the end of the performance. many pigs were scorched so severely that they gave up the ghost. the bonfire was broken up, and every householder took home with him a brand, which he washed in the water-barrel and laid for some time, as a treasure of great price, in the manger from which the cattle were fed. but the parson's wife had reason bitterly to repent her folly in refusing to put out that night-light; for not one of her pigs was driven through the need-fire, so they died.[ ] [the mode of kindling the need-fire in brunswick.] in brunswick, also, the need-fire is known to have been repeatedly kindled during the nineteenth century. after driving the pigs through the fire, which was kindled by the friction of wood, some people took brands home, dipped them in water, and then gave the water to the pigs to drink, no doubt for the purpose of inoculating them still more effectually with the precious virtue of the need-fire. in the villages of the drömling district everybody who bore a hand in kindling the "wild fire" must have the same christian name; otherwise they laboured in vain. the fire was produced by the friction of a rope round the beams of a door; and bread, corn, and old boots contributed their mites to swell the blaze through which the pigs as usual were driven. in one place, apparently not far from wolfenbüttel, the needfire is said to have been kindled, contrary to custom, by the smith striking a spark from the cold anvil.[ ] at gandersheim down to about the beginning of the nineteenth century the need-fire was lit in the common way by causing a cross-bar to revolve rapidly on its axis between two upright posts. the rope which produced the revolution of the bar had to be new, but it was if possible woven from threads taken from a gallows-rope, with which people had been hanged. while the need-fire was being kindled in this fashion, every other fire in the town had to be put out; search was made through the houses, and any fire discovered to be burning was extinguished. if in spite of every precaution no flame could be elicited by the friction of the rope, the failure was set down to witchcraft; but if the efforts were successful, a bonfire was lit with the new fire, and when the flames had died down, the sick swine were driven thrice through the glowing embers.[ ] on the lower rhine the need-fire is said to have been kindled by the friction of oak-wood on fir-wood, all fires in the village having been previously extinguished. the bonfires so kindled were composed of wood of nine different sorts; there were three such bonfires, and the cattle were driven round them with great gravity and devotion.[ ] [the mode of kindling the need-fire in silesia and bohemia.] in silesia, also, need-fires were often employed for the purpose of curing a murrain or preventing its spread. while all other lights within the boundaries were extinguished, the new fire was produced by the friction of nine kinds of wood, and the flame so obtained was used to kindle heaps of brushwood or straw to which every inhabitant had contributed. through these fires the cattle, both sick and sound, were driven in the confident expectation that thereby the sick would be healed and the sound saved from sickness.[ ] when plague breaks out among the herds at dobischwald, in austrian silesia, a splinter of wood is chipped from the threshold of every house, the cattle are driven to a cross-road, and there a tree, growing at the boundary, is felled by a pair of twin brothers. the wood of the tree and the splinters from the thresholds furnish the fuel of a bonfire, which is kindled by the rubbing of two pieces of wood together. when the bonfire is ablaze, the horns of the cattle are pared and the parings thrown into the flames, after which the animals are driven through the fire. this is believed to guard the herd against the plague.[ ] the germans of western bohemia resort to similar measures for staying a murrain. you set up a post, bore a hole in it, and insert in the hole a stick, which you have first of all smeared with pitch and wrapt in inflammable stuffs. then you wind a rope round the stick and give the two ends of the rope to two persons who must either be brothers or have the same baptismal name. they haul the rope backwards and forwards so as to make the tarred stick revolve rapidly, till the rope first smokes and then emits sparks. the sparks are used to kindle a bonfire, through which the cattle are driven in the usual way. and as usual no other fire may burn in the village while the need-fire is being kindled; for otherwise the rope could not possibly be ignited.[ ] in upper austria sick pigs are reported to have been driven through a need-fire about the beginning of the nineteenth century.[ ] [the use the need-fire in switzerland.] the need-fire is still in use in some parts of switzerland, but it seems to have degenerated into a children's game and to be employed rather for the dispersal of a mist than for the prevention or cure of cattle-plague. in some cantons it goes by the name of "mist-healing," while in others it is called "butter-churning." on a misty or rainy day a number of children will shut themselves up in a stable or byre and proceed to make fire for the purpose of improving the weather. the way in which they make it is this. a boy places a board against his breast, takes a peg pointed at both ends, and, setting one end of the peg against the board on his breast, presses the other end firmly against a second board, the surface of which has been flaked into a nap. a string is tied round the peg, and two other boys pull it to and fro, till through the rapid motion of the point of the peg a hole is burnt in the flaked board, to which tow or dry moss is then applied as a tinder. in this way fire and smoke are elicited, and with their appearance the children fancy that the mist will vanish.[ ] we may conjecture that this method of dispersing a mist, which is now left to children, was formerly practised in all seriousness by grown men in switzerland. it is thus that religious or magical rites dwindle away into the sports of children. in the canton of the grisons there is still in common use an imprecation, "mist, go away, or i'll heal you," which points to an old custom of burning up the fog with fire. a longer form of the curse lingers in the vallée des bagnes of the canton valais. it runs thus: "mist, mist, fly, fly, or st. martin will come with a sheaf of straw to burn your guts, a great log of wood to smash your brow, and an iron chain to drag you to hell."[ ] [the mode of kindling the need-fire in sweden and norway; the need-fire as a protection against witchcraft.] in sweden the need-fire is called, from the mode of its production, either _vrid-eld_, "turned fire," or _gnid-eld_, "rubbed fire." down to near the end of the eighteenth century the need-fire was kindled, as in germany, by the violent rubbing of two pieces of wood against each other; sometimes nine different kinds of wood were used for the purpose. the smoke of the fire was deemed salutary; fruit-trees and nets were fumigated with it, in order that the trees might bear fruit and the nets catch fish. cattle were also driven through the smoke.[ ] in sundal, a narrow norwegian valley, shut in on both sides by precipitous mountains, there lived down to the second half of the nineteenth century an old man who was very superstitious. he set salmon-traps in the river driva, which traverses the valley, and he caught many fish both in spring and autumn. when his fishing went wrong, he kindled _naueld_ ("need-fire") or _gnideild_ ("rubbed fire," "friction fire") to counteract the witchcraft, which he believed to be the cause of his bad luck. he set up two planks near each other, bored a hole in each, inserted a pointed rod in the holes, and twisted a long cord round the rod. then he pulled the cord so as to make the rod revolve rapidly. thus by reason of the friction he at last drew fire from the wood. that contented him, for "he believed that the witchery was thus rendered powerless, and that good luck in his fishing was now ensured."[ ] [the need-fire among the slavonic peoples.] slavonic peoples hold the need-fire in high esteem. they call it "living fire," and attribute to it a healing virtue. the ascription of medicinal power to fire kindled by the friction of wood is said to be especially characteristic of the slavs who inhabit the carpathian mountains and the balkan peninsula. the mode in which they produce the need-fire differs somewhat in different places. thus in the schar mountains of servia the task is entrusted to a boy and girl between eleven and fourteen years of age. they are led into a perfectly dark room, and having stripped themselves naked kindle the fire by rubbing two rollers of lime wood against each other, till the friction produces sparks, which are caught in tinder. the serbs of western macedonia drive two oaken posts into the ground, bore a round hole in the upper end of each, insert a roller of lime wood in the holes, and set it revolving rapidly by means of a cord, which is looped round the roller and worked by a bow. elsewhere the roller is put in motion by two men, who hold each one end of the cord and pull it backwards and forwards forcibly between them. bulgarian shepherds sometimes kindle the need-fire by drawing a prism-shaped piece of lime wood to and fro across the flat surface of a tree-stump in the forest.[ ] but in the neighbourhood of küstendil, in bulgaria, the need-fire is kindled by the friction of two pieces of oak wood and the cattle are driven through it.[ ] [the need-fire in russia and poland; the need-fire in slavonia.] in many districts of russia, also, "living fire" is made by the friction of wood on st. john's day, and the herds are driven through it, and the people leap over it in the conviction that their health is thereby assured; when a cattle-plague is raging, the fire is produced by rubbing two pieces of oak wood against each other, and it is used to kindle the lamps before the holy pictures and the censers in the churches.[ ] thus it appears that in russia the need-fire is kindled for the sake of the cattle periodically as well as on special emergencies. similarly in poland the peasants are said to kindle fires in the village streets on st. rochus's day and to drive the cattle thrice through them in order to protect the animals against the murrain. the fire is produced by rubbing a pole of poplar wood on a plank of poplar or fir wood and catching the sparks in tow. the embers are carried home to be used as remedies in sickness.[ ] as practised in slavonia, the custom of the need-fire used to present some interesting features, which are best described in the words of an eyewitness:--"in the year i came for the first time as a young merchant to slavonia; it was to gaj that i went, in the pozega district. the time was autumn, and it chanced that a cattle-plague was raging in the neighbourhood, which inflicted much loss on the people. the peasants believed that the plague was a woman, an evil spirit (_kutga_), who was destroying the cattle; so they sought to banish her. i had then occasion to observe the proceedings in the villages of gaj, kukunjevac, brezina, and brekinjska. towards evening the whole population of the village was busy laying a ring of brushwood round the boundaries of the village. all fires were extinguished throughout the village. then pairs of men in several places took pieces of wood, which had been specially prepared for the purpose, and rubbed them together till they emitted sparks. the sparks were allowed to fall on tinder and fanned into a flame, with which the dry brushwood was kindled. thus the fire burned all round the village. the peasants persuaded themselves that thereupon _kuga_ must take her departure."[ ] [the need-fire in servia.] this last account leaves no doubt as to the significance of the need-fire in the minds of slavonian peasantry. they regard it simply as a barrier interposed between their cattle and the evil spirit, which prowls, like a hungry wolf, round the fold and can, like a wolf, be kept at bay by fire. the same interpretation of the need-fire comes out, hardly less clearly, in the account which another writer gives of a ceremony witnessed by him at the village of setonje, at the foot of the homolje mountains in the great forest of servia. an epidemic was raging among the children, and the need-fire was resorted to as a means of staying the plague. it was produced by an old man and an old woman in the first of the ways described above; that is, they made it in the dark by rubbing two sticks of lime wood against each other. before the healing virtue of the fire was applied to the inhabitants of the village, two old women performed the following ceremony. both bore the name of stana, from the verb _stati_, "to remain standing"; for the ceremony could not be successfully performed by persons of any other name. one of them carried a copper kettle full of water, the other an old house-lock with the key. thus equipped they repaired to a spot outside of the village, and there the old dame with the kettle asked the old dame with the lock, "whither away?" and the other answered her, "i came to shut the village against ill-luck." with that she locked the lock and threw it with the key into the kettle of water. then they marched thrice round the village, repeating the ceremony of the lock and key at each round. meantime all the villagers, arrayed in their best clothes, were assembled in an open place. all the fires in the houses had been previously extinguished. two sturdy yokels now dug a tunnel through a mound beside an oak tree; the tunnel was just high enough to let a man creep through it on all fours. two fires, lit by the need-fire, were now laid, one at each end of the tunnel; and the old woman with the kettle took her stand at the entrance of the tunnel, while the one with the lock posted herself at the exit. facing the latter stood another woman with a great pot of milk before her, and on the other side was set a pot full of melted swine's fat. all was now ready. the villagers thereupon crawled through the tunnel on hands and knees, one behind the other. each, as he emerged from the tunnel, received a spoonful of milk from the woman and looked at his face reflected in the pot of melted swine's fat. then another woman made a cross with a piece of charcoal on his back. when all the inhabitants had thus crept through the tunnel and been doctored at the other end, each took some glowing embers home with him in a pot wherewith to rekindle the fire on the domestic hearth. lastly they put some of the charcoal in a vessel of water and drank the mixture in order to be thereby magically protected against the epidemic.[ ] it would be superfluous to point out in detail how admirably these measures are calculated to arrest the ravages of disease; but for the sake of those, if there are any, to whom the medicinal effect of crawling through a hole on hands and knees is not at once apparent, i shall merely say that the procedure in question is one of the most powerful specifics which the wit of man has devised for maladies of all sorts. ample evidence of its application will be adduced in a later part of this work.[ ] [the need-fire in bulgaria.] in bulgaria the herds suffer much from the raids of certain blood-sucking vampyres called _ustrels_. an _ustrel_ is the spirit of a christian child who was born on a saturday and died unfortunately before he could be baptized. on the ninth day after burial he grubs his way out of the grave and attacks the cattle at once, sucking their blood all night and returning at peep of dawn to the grave to rest from his labours. in ten days or so the copious draughts of blood which he has swallowed have so fortified his constitution that he can undertake longer journeys; so when he falls in with great herds of cattle or flocks of sheep he returns no more to the grave for rest and refreshment at night, but takes up his quarters during the day either between the horns of a sturdy calf or ram or between the hind legs of a milch-cow. beasts whose blood he has sucked die the same night. in any herd that he may fasten on he begins with the fattest animal and works his way down steadily through the leaner kine till not one single beast is left alive. the carcases of the victims swell up, and when the hide is stripped off you can always perceive the livid patch of flesh where the monster sucked the blood of the poor creature. in a single night he may, by working hard, kill five cows; but he seldom exceeds that number. he can change his shape and weight very easily; for example, when he is sitting by day between the horns of a ram, the animal scarcely feels his weight, but at night he will sometimes throw himself on an ox or a cow so heavily that the animal cannot stir, and lows so pitifully that it would make your heart bleed to hear. people who were born on a saturday can see these monsters, and they have described them accurately, so that there can be no doubt whatever about their existence. it is, therefore, a matter of great importance to the peasant to protect his flocks and herds against the ravages of such dangerous vampyres. the way in which he does so is this. on a saturday morning before sunrise the village drummer gives the signal to put out every fire in the village; even smoking is forbidden. next all the domestic animals, with the exception of fowls, geese, and ducks, are driven out into the open. in front of the flocks and herds march two men, whose names during the ceremony may not be mentioned in the village. they go into the wood, pick two dry branches, and having stript themselves of their clothes they rub the two branches together very hard till they catch fire; then with the fire so obtained they kindle two bonfires, one on each side of a cross-road which is known to be frequented by wolves. after that the herd is driven between the two fires. coals from the bonfires are then taken back to the village and used to rekindle the fires on the domestic hearths. for several days no one may go near the charred and blackened remains of the bonfires at the cross-road. the reason is that the vampyre is lying there, having dropped from his seat between the cow's horns when the animals were driven between the two fires. so if any one were to pass by the spot during these days, the monster would be sure to call him by name and to follow him to the village; whereas if he is left alone, a wolf will come at midnight and strangle him, and in a few days the herdsmen can see the ground soaked with his slimy blood. so that is the end of the vampyre.[ ] in this bulgarian custom, as in the slavonian custom described above, the conception of the need-fire as a barrier set up between the cattle and a dangerous spirit is clearly worked out. the spirit rides the cow till he comes to the narrow pass between the two fires, but the heat there is too much for him; he drops in a faint from the saddle, or rather from the horns, and the now riderless animal escapes safe and sound beyond the smoke and flame, leaving her persecutor prostrate on the ground on the further side of the blessed barrier. [the need-fire in bosnia and herzegovina.] in bosnia and herzegovina there are some local differences in the mode of kindling the need-fire, or "living fire," as it is called. thus at jablanica both the uprights and the roller or cross-piece, which by its revolution kindles the fire, are made of cornel-tree wood; whereas at dolac, near sarajevo, the uprights and the cross-piece or roller are all made of lime wood. in gacko, contrary to the usual custom, the fire is made by striking a piece of iron on an anvil, till sparks are given out, which are caught in tinder. the "living fire" thus produced is employed for purposes of healing. in particular, if any one suffers from wounds or sores, ashes of the need-fire are sprinkled on the ailing part. in gacko it is also believed that if a pregnant woman witnesses a conflagration, her child will either be born with a red eruption on its skin or will contract the malady sooner or later afterwards. the only remedy consists in ashes of the need-fire, which are mixed with water and given to the child to drink.[ ] [the need-fire in england; the need-fire in yorkshire.] in england the earliest notice of the need-fire seems to be contained in the chronicle of lanercost for the year . the annalist tells with pious horror how, when an epidemic was raging in that year among the cattle, "certain beastly men, monks in garb but not in mind, taught the idiots of their country to make fire by the friction of wood and to set up an image of priapus, whereby they thought to succour the animals."[ ] the use of the need-fire is particularly attested for the counties of yorkshire and northumberland. thus in yorkshire down to the middle of the eighteenth century "the favourite remedy of the country people, not only in the way of cure, but of prevention, was an odd one; it was to smoke the cattle almost to suffocation, by kindling straw, litter, and other combustible matter about them. the effects of this mode of cure are not stated, but the most singular part of it was that by which it was reported to have been discovered. an angel (says the legend), descended into yorkshire, and there set a large tree on fire; the strange appearance of which or else the savour of the smoke, incited the cattle around (some of which were infected) to draw near the miracle, when they all either received an immediate cure or an absolute prevention of the disorder. it is not affirmed that the angel staid to speak to anybody, but only that he left a _written_ direction for the neighbouring people to catch this supernatural fire, and to communicate it from one to another with all possible speed throughout the country; and in case it should be extinguished and utterly lost, that then new fire, of equal virtue, might be obtained, not by any common method, but by rubbing two pieces of wood together till they ignited. upon what foundation this story stood, is not exactly known, but it put the farmers actually into a hurry of communicating flame and smoke from one house to another with wonderful speed, making it run like wildfire over the country."[ ] again, we read that "the father of the writer, who died in , in his seventy-ninth year, had a perfect remembrance of a great number of persons, belonging to the upper and middle classes of his native parish of bowes, assembling on the banks of the river greta to work for need-fire. a disease among cattle, called the murrain, then prevailed to a very great extent through that district of yorkshire. the cattle were made to pass through the smoke raised by this miraculous fire, and their cure was looked upon as certain, and to neglect doing so was looked upon as wicked. this fire was produced by the violent and continued friction of two dry pieces of wood until such time as it was thereby obtained. 'to work as though one was working for need-fire' is a common proverb in the north of england."[ ] at ingleton, a small town nestling picturesquely at the foot of the high hill of ingleborough in western yorkshire, "within the last thirty years or so it was a common practice to kindle the so-called 'need-fire' by rubbing two pieces of wood briskly together, and setting ablaze a large heap of sticks and brushwood, which were dispersed, and cattle then driven through the smoking brands. this was thought to act as a charm against the spread or developement of the various ailments to which cattle are liable, and the farmers seem to have had great faith in it."[ ] writing about the middle of the nineteenth century, kemble tells us that the will-fire or need-fire had been used in devonshire for the purpose of staying a murrain within the memory of man.[ ] [the need-fire in northumberland.] so in northumberland, down to the first half of the nineteenth century, "when a contagious disease enters among cattle, the fires are extinguished in the adjacent villages. two pieces of dried wood are then rubbed together until fire be produced; with this a quantity of straw is kindled, juniper is thrown into the flame, and the cattle are repeatedly driven through the smoke. part of the forced fire is sent to the neighbours, who again forward it to others, and, as great expedition is used, the fires may be seen blazing over a great extent of country in a very short space of time."[ ] "it is strange," says the antiquary william henderson, writing about , "to find the custom of lighting 'need-fires' on the occasion of epidemics among cattle still lingering among us, but so it is. the vicar of stamfordham writes thus respecting it: 'when the murrain broke out among the cattle about eighteen years ago, this fire was produced by rubbing two pieces of dry wood together, and was carried from place to place all through this district, as a charm against cattle taking the disease. bonfires were kindled with it, and the cattle driven into the smoke, where they were left for some time. many farmers hereabouts, i am informed, had the need-fire.'"[ ] [martin's account of the need-fire in the highlands of scotland.] in the earliest systematic account of the western islands of scotland we read that "the inhabitants here did also make use of a fire called _tin-egin, i.e._ a forced fire, or fire of necessity, which they used as an antidote against the plague or murrain in cattle; and it was performed thus: all the fires in the parish were extinguished, and then eighty-one married men, being thought the necessary number for effecting this design, took two great planks of wood, and nine of them were employed by turns, who by their repeated efforts rubbed one of the planks against the other until the heat thereof produced fire; and from this forced fire each family is supplied with new fire, which is no sooner kindled than a pot full of water is quickly set on it, and afterwards sprinkled upon the people infected with the plague, or upon the cattle that have the murrain. and this they all say they find successful by experience: it was practised in the main land, opposite to the south of skie, within these thirty years."[ ] [the need-fire in the island of mull; sacrifice of a heifer.] in the island of mull, one of the largest of the hebrides, the need-fire was kindled as late as . "in consequence of a disease among the black cattle the people agreed to perform an incantation, though they esteemed it a wicked thing. they carried to the top of carnmoor a wheel and nine spindles of oakwood. they extinguished every fire in every house within sight of the hill; the wheel was then turned from east to west over the nine spindles long enough to produce fire by friction. if the fire were not produced before noon, the incantation lost its effect. they failed for several days running. they attributed this failure to the obstinacy of one householder, who would not let his fires be put out for what he considered so wrong a purpose. however, by bribing his servants they contrived to have them extinguished and on that morning raised their fire. they then sacrificed a heifer, cutting in pieces and burning, while yet alive, the diseased part. they then lighted their own hearths from the pile and ended by feasting on the remains. words of incantation were repeated by an old man from morven, who came over as master of the ceremonies, and who continued speaking all the time the fire was being raised. this man was living a beggar at bellochroy. asked to repeat the spell, he said, the sin of repeating it once had brought him to beggary, and that he dared not say those words again. the whole country believed him accursed."[ ] from this account we see that in mull the kindling of the need-fire as a remedy for cattle disease was accompanied by the sacrifice of one of the diseased animals; and though the two customs are for the most part mentioned separately by our authorities, we may surmise that they were often, perhaps usually, practised together for the purpose of checking the ravages of sickness in the herds.[ ] [the need-fire in caithness.] in the county of caithness, forming the extreme northeast corner of the mainland of scotland, the practice of the need-fire survived down at least to about . we read that "in those days, when the stock of any considerable farmer was seized with the murrain, he would send for one of the charm-doctors to superintend the raising of a _need-fire_. it was done by friction, thus; upon any small island, where the stream of a river or burn ran on each side, a circular booth was erected, of stone and turf, as it could be had, in which a semicircular or highland couple of birch, or other hard wood, was set; and, in short, a roof closed on it. a straight pole was set up in the centre of this building, the upper end fixed by a wooden pin to the top of the couple, and the lower end in an oblong _trink_ in the earth or floor; and lastly, another pole was set across horizontally, having both ends tapered, one end of which was supported in a hole in the side of the perpendicular pole, and the other in a similar hole in the couple leg. the horizontal stick was called the auger, having four short arms or levers fixed in its centre, to work it by; the building having been thus finished, as many men as could be collected in the vicinity, (being divested of all kinds of metal in their clothes, etc.), would set to work with the said auger, two after two, constantly turning it round by the arms or levers, and others occasionally driving wedges of wood or stone behind the lower end of the upright pole, so as to press it the more on the end of the auger: by this constant friction and pressure, the ends of the auger would take fire, from which a fire would be instantly kindled, and thus the _needfire_ would be accomplished. the fire in the farmer's house, etc., was immediately quenched with water, a fire kindled from this needfire, both in the farm-houses and offices, and the cattle brought to feel the smoke of this new and sacred fire, which preserved them from the murrain."[ ] [the need-fire in caithness.] the last recorded case of the need-fire in caithness happened in or . at houstry, dunbeath, a crofter named david gunn had made for himself a kail-yard and in doing so had wilfully encroached on one of those prehistoric ruins called _brochs_, which the people of the neighbourhood believed to be a fairy habitation. soon afterwards a murrain broke out among the cattle of the district and carried off many beasts. so the wise men put their heads together and resolved to light a _teine-eigin_ or need-fire as the best way of stopping the plague. they cut a branch from a tree in a neighbouring wood, stripped it of bark, and carried it to a small island in the houstry burn. every fire in the district having been quenched, new fire was made by the friction of wood in the island, and from this sacred flame all the hearths of the houses were lit afresh. one of the sticks used in making the fire was preserved down to about the end of the nineteenth century; apparently the mode of operation was the one known as the fire-drill: a pointed stick was twirled in a hole made in another stick till fire was elicited by the friction.[ ] [another account of the need-fire in the highlands.] another account of the use of need-fire in the highlands of scotland runs as follows: "when, by the neglect of the prescribed safeguards [against witchcraft], the seeds of iniquity have taken root, and a person's means are decaying in consequence, the only alternative, in this case, is to resort to that grand remedy, the _tein econuch_, or 'forlorn fire,' which seldom fails of being productive of the best effects. the cure for witchcraft, called _tein econuch_, is wrought in the following manner:--a consultation being held by the unhappy sufferer and his friends as to the most advisable measures of effecting a cure, if this process is adopted, notice is privately communicated to all those householders who reside within the nearest of two running streams, to extinguish their lights and fires on some appointed morning. on its being ascertained that this notice has been duly observed, a spinning-wheel, or some other convenient instrument, calculated to produce fire by friction, is set to work with the most furious earnestness by the unfortunate sufferer, and all who wish well to his cause. relieving each other by turns, they drive on with such persevering diligence, that at length the spindle of the wheel, ignited by excessive friction, emits 'forlorn fire' in abundance, which, by the application of tow, or some other combustible material, is widely extended over the whole neighbourhood. communicating the fire to the tow, the tow communicates it to a candle, the candle to a fir-torch, the torch to a cartful of peats, which the master of the ceremonies, with pious ejaculations for the success of the experiment, distributes to messengers, who will proceed with portions of it to the different houses within the said two running streams, to kindle the different fires. by the influence of this operation, the machinations and spells of witchcraft are rendered null and void."[ ] [alexander carmichael's account of the need-fire in the highlands of scotland during the nineteenth century.] in various parts of the highlands of scotland the needfire was still kindled during the first half of the nineteenth century, as we learn from the following account:-- "_tein-eigin_, neid-fire, need-fire, forced fire, fire produced by the friction of wood or iron against wood. "the fire of purification was kindled from the neid-fire, while the domestic fire on the hearth was re-kindled from the purification fire on the knoll. among other names, the purification fire was called _teine bheuil_, fire of beul, and _teine mor bheuil_, great fire of beul. the fire of beul was divided into two fires between which people and cattle rushed australly for purposes of purification. the ordeal was trying, as may be inferred from phrases still current. _is teodha so na teine teodha bheuil_, 'hotter is this than the hot fire of beul.' replying to his grandchild, an old man in lewis said ... 'mary! sonnie, it were worse for me to do that for thee than to go between the two great fires of beul.' "the neid-fire was resorted to in imminent or actual calamity upon the first day of the quarter, and to ensure success in great or important events. [the needfire in arran.] "the writer conversed with several persons who saw the neid-fire made, and who joined in the ceremony. as mentioned elsewhere, a woman in arran said that her father, and the other men of the townland, made the neid-fire on the knoll on _la buidhe bealltain_--yellow day of beltane. they fed the fire from _cuaile mor conaidh caoin_--great bundles of sacred faggots brought to the knoll on beltane eve. when the sacred fire became kindled, the people rushed home and brought their herds and drove them through and round the fire of purification, to sain them from the _bana bhuitseach mhor nic creafain mac creafain_--the great arch witch mac crauford, now crawford. that was in the second decade of this century. [the need-fire in north uist.] "john macphail, middlequarter, north uist, said that the last occasion on which the neid-fire was made in north uist was _bliadhna an t-sneachda bhuidhe_--the year of the yellow snow-- (?). the snow lay so deep and remained so long on the ground, that it became yellow. some suggest that the snow was originally yellow, as snow is occasionally red. this extraordinary continuance of snow caused much want and suffering throughout the isles. the people of north uist extinguished their own fires and generated a purification fire at sail dharaich, sollas. the fire was produced from an oak log by rapidly boring with an auger. this was accomplished by the exertions of _naoi naoinear ciad ginealach mac_--the nine nines of first-begotten sons. from the neid-fire produced on the knoll the people of the parish obtained fire for their dwellings. many cults and ceremonies were observed on the occasion, cults and ceremonies in which pagan and christian beliefs intermingled. _sail dharaich_, oak log, obtained its name from the log of oak for the neid-fire being there. a fragment of this log riddled with auger holes marks a grave in _cladh sgealoir_, the burying-ground of _sgealoir_, in the neighbourhood. [the need-fire in reay, sutherland.] "mr. alexander mackay, edinburgh, a native of reay, sutherland, says:--'my father was the skipper of a fishing crew. before beginning operations for the season, the crew of the boat met at night in our house to settle accounts for the past, and to plan operations for the new season. my mother and the rest of us were sent to bed. i lay in the kitchen, and was listening and watching, though they thought i was asleep. after the men had settled their past affairs and future plans, they put out the fire on the hearth, not a spark being allowed to live. they then rubbed two pieces of wood one against another so rapidly as to produce fire, the men joining in one after the other, and working with the utmost energy and never allowing the friction to relax. from this friction-fire they rekindled the fire on the hearth, from which all the men present carried away a kindling to their own homes. whether their success was due to their skill, their industry, their perseverance, or to the neid-fire, i do not know, but i know that they were much the most successful crew in the place. they met on saturday, and went to church on sunday like the good men and the good christians they were--a little of their pagan faith mingling with their christian belief. i have reason to believe that other crews in the place as well as my father's crew practised the neid-fire.' "a man at helmsdale, sutherland, saw the _tein-eigin_ made in his boyhood. "the neid-fire was made in north uist about the year , in arran about , in helmsdale about , in reay about ."[ ] [the beltane fire a precaution against witchcraft.] from the foregoing account we learn that in arran the annual beltane fire was regularly made by the friction of wood, and that it was used to protect men and cattle against a great witch. when we remember that beltane eve or the eve of may day (walpurgis night) is the great witching time of the year throughout europe, we may surmise that wherever bonfires have been ceremonially kindled on that day it has been done simply as a precaution against witchcraft; indeed this motive is expressly alleged not only in scotland, but in wales, the isle of man, and many parts of central europe.[ ] it deserves, further, to be noticed that in north uist the wood used to kindle the need-fire was oak, and that the nine times nine men by whose exertions the flame was elicited were all first-born sons. apparently the first-born son of a family was thought to be endowed with more magical virtue than his younger brothers. similarly in the punjaub "the supernatural power ascribed to the first born is not due to his being unlucky, but the idea underlying the belief seems to be that being the first product of the parents, he inherits the spiritual powers (or magnetism) in a high degree. the success of such persons in stopping rain and hail and in stupefying snakes is proverbial. it is believed that a first child born with feet forward can cure backache by kicking the patient in the back, on a crossing."[ ] [the need-fire in aberdeenshire.] in the north-east of aberdeenshire and the neighbourhood, when the cattle-disease known as the "quarter-ill" broke out, "the 'muckle wheel' was set in motion and turned till fire was produced. from this virgin flame fires were kindled in the byres. at the same time, if neighbours requested the favour, live coals were given them to kindle fires for the purification of their homesteads and turning off the disease. fumigating the byres with juniper was a method adopted to ward off disease. such a fire was called 'needfyre.' the kindling of it came under the censure of the presbytery at times."[ ] [the need-fire in perthshire.] in perthshire the need-fire was kindled as a remedy for cattle-disease as late as . "a wealthy old farmer, having lost several of his cattle by some disease very prevalent at present, and being able to account for it in no way so rationally as by witchcraft, had recourse to the following remedy, recommended to him by a weird sister in his neighbourhood, as an effectual protection from the attacks of the foul fiend. a few stones were piled together in the barnyard, and woodcoals having been laid thereon, the fuel was ignited by _will-fire_, that is fire obtained by friction; the neighbours having been called in to witness the solemnity, the cattle were made to pass through the flames, in the order of their dignity and age, commencing with the horses and ending with the swine. the ceremony having been duly and decorously gone through, a neighbouring farmer observed to the enlightened owner of the herd, that he, along with his family, ought to have followed the example of the cattle, and the sacrifice to baal would have been complete."[ ] [the need-fire in ireland.] in county leitrim, ireland, in order to prevent fever from spreading, "all the fires on the townland, and the two adjoining (one on each side), would be put out. then the men of the three townlands would come to one house, and get two large blocks of wood. one would be set in the ground, and the other one, fitted with two handles, placed on the top of it. the men would then draw the upper block backwards and forwards over the lower until fire was produced by friction, and from this the fires would be lighted again. this would prevent the fever from spreading,"[ ] [the use of the need-fire a relic of a time when all fires were kindled by the friction of wood.] thus it appears that in many parts of europe it has been customary to kindle fire by the friction of wood for the purpose of curing or preventing the spread of disease, particularly among cattle. the mode of striking a light by rubbing two dry sticks against each other is the one to which all over the world savages have most commonly resorted for the sake of providing themselves with fire;[ ] and we can scarcely doubt that the practice of kindling the need-fire in this primitive fashion is merely a survival from the time when our savage forefathers lit all their fires in that way. nothing is so conservative of old customs as religious or magical ritual, which invests these relics of the past with an atmosphere of mysterious virtue and sanctity. to the educated mind it seems obvious that a fire which a man kindles with the sweat of his brow by laboriously rubbing one stick against each other can possess neither more nor less virtue than one which he has struck in a moment by the friction of a lucifer match; but to the ignorant and superstitious this truth is far from apparent, and accordingly they take infinite pains to do in a roundabout way what they might have done directly with the greatest ease, and what, even when it is done, is of no use whatever for the purpose in hand. a vast proportion of the labour which mankind has expended throughout the ages has been no better spent; it has been like the stone of sisyphus eternally rolled up hill only to revolve eternally down again, or like the water poured for ever by the danaids into broken pitchers which it could never fill. [the belief that the need-fire cannot kindle if any other fire remains alight in the neighbourhood.] the curious notion that the need-fire cannot kindle if any other fire remains alight in the neighbourhood seems to imply that fire is conceived as a unity which is broken up into fractions and consequently weakened in exact proportion to the number of places where it burns; hence in order to obtain it at full strength you must light it only at a single point, for then the flame will burst out with a concentrated energy derived from the tributary fires which burned on all the extinguished hearths of the country. so in a modern city if all the gas were turned off simultaneously at all the burners but one, the flame would no doubt blaze at that one burner with a fierceness such as no single burner could shew when all are burning at the same time. the analogy may help us to understand the process of reasoning which leads the peasantry to insist on the extinction of all common fires when the need-fire is about to be kindled. perhaps, too, it may partly explain that ceremonial extinction of all old fires on other occasions which is often required by custom as a preliminary to the lighting of a new and sacred fire.[ ] we have seen that in the highlands of scotland all common fires were extinguished on the eve of may-day as a preparation for kindling the beltane bonfire by friction next morning;[ ] and no doubt the reason for the extinction was the same as in the case of the need-fire. indeed we may assume with a fair degree of probability that the need-fire was the parent of the periodic fire-festivals; at first invoked only at irregular intervals to cure certain evils as they occurred, the powerful virtue of fire was afterwards employed at regular intervals to prevent the occurrence of the same evils as well as to remedy such as had actually arisen. [the needfire among the iroquois of north america.] the need-fire of europe has its parallel in a ceremony which used to be observed by the iroquois indians of north america. "formerly when an epidemic prevailed among the iroquois despite the efforts to stay it, it was customary for the principal shaman to order the fires in every cabin to be extinguished and the ashes and cinders to be carefully removed; for it was believed that the pestilence was sent as a punishment for neglecting to rekindle 'new fire,' or because of the manner in which the fire then in use had been kindled. so, after all the fires were out, two suitable logs of slippery elm (_ulmus fulva_) were provided for the new fire. one of the logs was from six to eight inches in diameter and from eight to ten feet long; the other was from ten to twelve inches in diameter and about ten feet long. about midway across the larger log a cuneiform notch or cut about six inches deep was made, and in the wedge-shaped notch punk was placed. the other log was drawn rapidly to and fro in the cut by four strong men chosen for the purpose until the punk was ignited by the friction thus produced. before and during the progress of the work of igniting the fire the shaman votively sprinkled _tcar-hu'-eñ-we_, 'real tobacco,' three several times into the cuneiform notch and offered earnest prayers to the fire-god, beseeching him 'to aid, to bless, and to redeem the people from their calamities.' the ignited punk was used to light a large bonfire, and then the head of every family was required to take home 'new fire' to rekindle a fire in his or her fire-place."[ ] § . _the sacrifice of an animal to stay a cattle-plague_ [the burnt sacrifice of a calf in england and wales; burnt sacrifice a pig in scotland.] sometimes apparently in england as well as in scotland the kindling of a need-fire was accompanied by the sacrifice of a calf. thus in northamptonshire, at some time during the first half of the nineteenth century, "miss c---- and her cousin walking saw a fire in a field and a crowd round it. they said, 'what is the matter?' 'killing a calf.' 'what for?' 'to stop the murrain.' they went away as quickly as possible. on speaking to the clergyman he made enquiries. the people did not like to talk of the affair, but it appeared that when there is a disease among the cows or the calves are born sickly, they sacrifice (i.e. kill and burn) one 'for good luck.'"[ ] it is not here said that the fire was a need-fire, of which indeed the two horrified ladies had probably never heard; but the analogy of the parallel custom in mull[ ] renders it probable that in northamptonshire also the fire was kindled by the friction of wood, and that the calf or some part of it was burnt in the fire. certainly the practice of burning a single animal alive in order to save all the others would seem to have been not uncommon in england down to the nineteenth century. thus a farmer in cornwall about the year , having lost many cattle by disease, and tried many remedies in vain, consulted with some of his neighbours and laying their heads together "they recalled to their recollections a tale, which tradition had handed down from remote antiquity, that the calamity would not cease until he had actually burned alive the finest calf which he had upon his farm; but that, when this sacrifice was made, the murrain would afflict his cattle no more." accordingly, on a day appointed they met, lighted a large fire, placed the best calf in it, and standing round the blazing pile drove the animal with pitchforks back into the flames whenever it attempted to escape. thus the victim was burned alive to save the rest of the cattle.[ ] "there can be no doubt but that a belief prevailed until a very recent period, amongst the small farmers in the districts remote from towns in cornwall, that a living sacrifice appeased the wrath of god. this sacrifice must be by fire; and i have heard it argued that the bible gave them warranty for this belief.... while correcting these sheets i am informed of two recent instances of this superstition. one of them was the sacrifice of a calf by a farmer near portreath, for the purpose of removing a disease which had long followed his horses and his cows. the other was the burning of a living lamb, to save, as the farmer said, 'his flocks from spells which had been cast on 'em.'"[ ] in a recent account of the fire-festivals of wales we read that "i have also heard my grandfather and father say that in times gone by the people would throw a calf in the fire when there was any disease among the herds. the same would be done with a sheep if there was anything the matter with a flock. i can remember myself seeing cattle being driven between two fires to 'stop the disease spreading.' when in later times it was not considered humane to drive the cattle between the fires, the herdsmen were accustomed to force the animals over the wood ashes to protect them against various ailments."[ ] writing about , the antiquary w. henderson says that a live ox was burned near haltwhistle in northumberland "only twenty years ago" to stop a murrain.[ ] "about the year disease broke out among the cattle of a small farm in the parish of resoliss, black isle, ross-shire. the farmer prevailed on his wife to undertake a journey to a wise woman of renown in banffshire to ask a charm against the effects of the 'ill eye.' the long journey of upwards of fifty miles was performed by the good wife, and the charm was got. one chief thing ordered was to burn to death a pig, and sprinkle the ashes over the byre and other farm buildings. this order was carried out, except that the pig was killed before it was burned. a more terrible sacrifice was made at times. one of the diseased animals was rubbed over with tar, driven forth, set on fire, and allowed to run till it fell down and died."[ ] "living animals have been burnt alive in sacrifice within memory to avert the loss of other stock. the burial of three puppies 'brandise-wise' in a field is supposed to rid it of weeds. throughout the rural districts of devon witchcraft is an article of current faith, and the toad is thrown into the flames as an emissary of the evil one."[ ] [the calf is burnt in order to break a spell which has been cast on the herd.] but why, we may ask, should the burning alive of a calf or a sheep be supposed to save the rest of the herd or the flock from the murrain? according to one writer, as we have seen, the burnt sacrifice was thought to appease the wrath of god.[ ] the idea of appeasing the wrath of a ferocious deity by burning an animal alive is probably no more than a theological gloss put on an old heathen rite; it would hardly occur to the simple mind of an english bumpkin, who, though he may be stupid, is not naturally cruel and does not conceive of a divinity who takes delight in the contemplation of suffering. to his thinking god has little or nothing to do with the murrain, but witches, ill-wishers, and fairies have a great deal to do with it. the english farmer who burned one of his lambs alive said that he did it "to save his flocks from spells which had been cast on them"; and the scotch farmer who was bidden to burn a pig alive for a similar purpose, but who had the humanity to kill the animal first, believed that this was a remedy for the "evil eye" which had been cast upon his beasts. again, we read that "a farmer, who possessed broad acres, and who was in many respects a sensible man, was greatly annoyed to find that his cattle became diseased in the spring. nothing could satisfy him but that they were bewitched, and he was resolved to find out the person who had cast the evil eye on his oxen. according to an anciently-prescribed rule, the farmer took one of his bullocks and bled it to death, catching all the blood on bundles of straw. the bloody straw was then piled into a heap, and set on fire. burning with a vast quantity of smoke, the farmer expected to see the witch, either in reality or in shadow, amidst the smoke."[ ] such reasons express the real beliefs of the peasants. "cattle, like human beings, were exposed to the influences of the evil eye, of forespeaking, and of the casting of evil. witches and warlocks did the work of evil among their neighbours' cattle if their anger had been aroused in any way. the fairies often wrought injury amongst cattle. every animal that died suddenly was killed by the dart of the fairies, or, in the language of the people, was 'shot-a-dead.' flint arrows and spear-heads went by the name of 'faery dairts....' when an animal died suddenly the canny woman of the district was sent for to search for the 'faery dairt,' and in due course she found one, to the great satisfaction of the owner of the dead animal."[ ] [mode in which the burning of a bewitched animal is supposed to break the spell.] but how, we must still ask, can burning an animal alive break the spell that has been cast upon its fellows by a witch or a warlock? some light is thrown on the question by the following account of measures which rustic wiseacres in suffolk are said to have adopted as a remedy for witchcraft. "a woman i knew forty-three years had been employed by my predecessor to take care of his poultry. at the time i came to make her acquaintance she was a bedridden toothless crone, with chin and nose all but meeting. she did not discourage in her neighbours the idea that she knew more than people ought to know, and had more power than others had. many years before i knew her it happened one spring that the ducks, which were a part of her charge, failed to lay eggs.... she at once took it for granted that the ducks had been bewitched. this misbelief involved very shocking consequences, for it necessitated the idea that so diabolical an act could only be combated by diabolical cruelty. and the most diabolical act of cruelty she could imagine was that of baking alive in a hot oven one of the ducks. and that was what she did. the sequence of thought in her mind was that the spell that had been laid on the ducks was that of preternaturally wicked wilfulness; that this spell could only be broken through intensity of suffering, in this case death by burning; that the intensity of suffering would break the spell in the one roasted to death; and that the spell broken in one would be altogether broken, that is, in all the ducks.... shocking, however, as was this method of exorcising the ducks, there was nothing in it original. just about a hundred years before, everyone in the town and neighbourhood of ipswich had heard, and many had believed, that a witch had been burnt to death in her own house at ipswich by the process of burning alive one of the sheep she had bewitched. it was curious, but it was as convincing as curious, that the hands and feet of this witch were the only parts of her that had not been incinerated. this, however, was satisfactorily explained by the fact that the four feet of the sheep, by which it had been suspended over the fire, had not been destroyed in the flames that had consumed its body."[ ] according to a slightly different account of the same tragic incident, the last of the "ipswitch witches," one grace pett, "laid her hand heavily on a farmer's sheep, who, in order to punish her, fastened one of the sheep in the ground and burnt it, except the feet, which were under the earth. the next morning grace pett was found burnt to a cinder, except her feet. her fate is recorded in the _philosophical transactions_ as a case of spontaneous combustion."[ ] [in burning the bewitched animal you burn the witch herself.] this last anecdote is instructive, if perhaps not strictly authentic. it shows that in burning alive one of a bewitched flock or herd what you really do is to burn the witch, who is either actually incarnate in the animal or perhaps more probably stands in a relation of sympathy with it so close as almost to amount to identity. hence if you burn the creature to ashes, you utterly destroy the witch and thereby save the whole of the rest of the flock or herd from her abominable machinations; whereas if you only partially burn the animal, allowing some parts of it to escape the flames, the witch is only half-baked, and her power for mischief may be hardly, if at all, impaired by the grilling. we can now see that in such matters half-measures are useless. to kill the animal first and burn it afterwards is a weak compromise, dictated no doubt by a well-meant but utterly mistaken kindness; it is like shutting the stable-door when the steed is stolen, for obviously by leaving the animal's, and therefore the witch's, body nearly intact at the moment of death, it allows her soul to escape and return safe and sound to her own human body, which all the time is probably lying quietly at home in bed. and the same train of reasoning that justifies the burning alive of bewitched animals justifies and indeed requires the burning alive of the witches themselves; it is really the only way of destroying them, body and soul, and therefore of thoroughly extirpating the whole infernal crew. [practice of burning cattle and sheep as sacrifices in the isle of man.] in the isle of man the practice of burning cattle alive in order to stop a murrain seems to have persisted down to a time within living memory. on this subject i will quote the evidence collected by sir john rhys: "a respectable farmer from andreas told me that he was driving with his wife to the neighbouring parish of jurby some years ago, and that on the way they beheld the carcase of a cow or an ox burning in a field, with a woman engaged in stirring the fire. on reaching the village to which they were going, they found that the burning beast belonged to a farmer whom they knew. they were further told it was no wonder that the said farmer had one of his cattle burnt, as several of them had recently died. whether this was a case of sacrifice or not i cannot say. but let me give you another instance: a man whom i have already mentioned, saw at a farm nearer the centre of the island a live calf being burnt. the owner bears an english name, but his family has long been settled in man. the farmer's explanation to my informant was that the calf was burnt to secure luck for the rest of the herd, some of which were threatening to die. my informant thought there was absolutely nothing the matter with them, except that they had too little to eat. be that as it may, the one calf was sacrificed as a burnt-offering to secure luck for the rest of the cattle. let me here also quote mr. moore's note in his _manx surnames_, p. , on the place name _cabbal yn oural losht_, or the chapel of the burnt sacrifice. 'this name,' he says, 'records a circumstance which took place in the nineteenth century, but which, it is to be hoped, was never customary in the isle of man. a farmer, who had lost a number of his sheep and cattle by murrain, burned a calf as a propitiatory offering to the deity on this spot, where a chapel was afterwards built. hence the name.' particulars, i may say, of time, place, and person could be easily added to mr. moore's statement, excepting, perhaps as to the deity in question; on that point i have never been informed, but mr. moore is probably right in the use of the capital _d_, as the sacrificer is, according to all accounts, a highly devout christian. one more instance: an octogenarian woman, born in the parish of bride, and now living at kirk andreas, saw, when she was a 'lump of a girl' of ten or fifteen years of age, a live sheep being burnt in a field in the parish of andreas, on may-day, whereby she meant the first of may reckoned according to the old style. she asserts very decidedly that it was _son oural_, 'as a sacrifice,' as she put it, and 'for an object to the public': those were her words when she expressed herself in english. further, she made the statement that it was a custom to burn a sheep on old may-day for a sacrifice. i was fully alive to the interest of this evidence, and cross-examined her so far as her age allows of it, and i find that she adheres to her statement with all firmness."[ ] [by burning a bewitched animal you compel the witch to appear.] but manxmen burn beasts when they are dead as well as when they are alive; and their reasons for burning the dead animals may help us to understand their reasons for burning the living animals. on this subject i will again quote sir john rhys: "when a beast dies on a farm, of course it dies, according to the old-fashioned view of things, as i understand it, from the influence of the evil eye or the interposition of a witch. so if you want to know to whom you are indebted for the loss of the beast, you have simply to burn its carcase in the open air and watch who comes first to the spot or who first passes by; that is the criminal to be charged with the death of the animal, and he cannot help coming there--such is the effect of the fire. a michael woman, who is now about thirty, related to me how she watched while the carcase of a bewitched colt was burning, how she saw the witch coming, and how she remembers her shrivelled face, with nose and chin in close proximity. according to another native of michael, a well-informed middle-aged man, the animal in question was oftenest a calf, and it was wont to be burnt whole, skin and all. the object, according to him, is invariably to bring the bewitcher on the spot, and he always comes; but i am not clear what happens to him when he appears. my informant added, however, that it was believed that, unless the bewitcher got possession of the heart of the burning beast, he lost all his power of bewitching."[ ] [magic sympathy between the witch and the bewitched animal.] these statements shew that in the isle of man the sympathetic relation between the witch and his or her animal victim is believed to be so close that by burning the animal you compel the witch to appear. the original idea may have been that, by virtue of a magic sympathy which binds the two together, whatever harm you do to the animal is felt by the witch as if it were done to herself. that notion would fully explain why manx people used also to burn bewitched animals alive; in doing so they probably imagined that they were simultaneously burning the witch who had cast the spell on their cattle. [parallel belief in magic sympathy between the animal shape of a were-wolf and his or her ordinary human shape: by wounding the wolf you simultaneously wound the man or woman.] this explanation of the reason for burning a bewitched animal, dead or alive, is confirmed by the parallel belief concerning were-wolves. it is commonly supposed that certain men and women can transform themselves by magic art into wolves or other animals, but that any wound inflicted on such a transformed beast (a were-wolf or other were-animal) is simultaneously inflicted on the human body of the witch or warlock who had transformed herself or himself into the creature. this belief is widely diffused; it meets us in europe, asia, and africa. for example, olaus magnus tells us that in livonia, not many years before he wrote, a noble lady had a dispute with her slave on the subject of were-wolves, she doubting whether there were any such things, and he maintaining that there were. to convince her he retired to a room, from which he soon appeared in the form of a wolf. being chased by the dogs into the forest and brought to bay, the wolf defended himself fiercely, but lost an eye in the struggle. next day the slave returned to his mistress in human form but with only one eye.[ ] again, it happened in the year that a gentleman in a village among the mountains of auvergne, looking out of the window one evening, saw a friend of his going out to hunt. he begged him to bring him back some of his bag, and his friend said that he would. well, he had not gone very far before he met a huge wolf. he fired and missed it, and the animal attacked him furiously, but he stood on his guard and with an adroit stroke of his hunting knife he cut off the right fore-paw of the brute, which thereupon fled away and he saw it no more. he returned to his friend, and drawing from his pouch the severed paw of the wolf he found to his horror that it was turned into a woman's hand with a golden ring on one of the fingers. his friend recognized the ring as that of his own wife and went to find her. she was sitting by the fire with her right arm under her apron. as she refused to draw it out, her husband confronted her with the hand and the ring on it. she at once confessed the truth, that it was she in the form of a were-wolf whom the hunter had wounded. her confession was confirmed by applying the severed hand to the stump of her arm, for the two fitted exactly. the angry husband delivered up his wicked wife to justice; she was tried and burnt as a witch.[ ] it is said that a were-wolf, scouring the streets of padua, was caught, and when they cut off his four paws he at once turned into a man, but with both his hands and feet amputated.[ ] again, in a farm of the french district of beauce, there was once a herdsman who never slept at home. these nocturnal absences naturally attracted attention and set people talking. at the same time, by a curious coincidence, a wolf used to prowl round the farm every night and to excite the dogs in the farmyard to fury by thrusting his snout derisively through the cat's hole in the great gate. the farmer had his suspicions and he determined to watch. one night, when the herdsman went out as usual, his master followed him quietly till he came to a hut, where with his own eyes he saw the man put on a broad belt and at once turn into a wolf, which scoured away over the fields. the farmer smiled a sickly sort of smile and went back to the farm. there he took a stout stick and sat down at the cat's hole to wait. he had not long to wait. the dogs barked like mad, a wolf's snout shewed through the hole, down came the stick, out gushed the blood, and a voice was heard to say without the gate, "a good job too. i had still three years to run." next day the herdsman appeared as usual, but he had a scar on his brow, and he never went out again at night.[ ] [werewolves in china.] in china also the faith in similar transformation is reflected in the following tale. a certain man in sung-yang went into the mountains to gather fuel. night fell and he was pursued by two tigers, but scrambled up a tree out of their reach. then said the one tiger to the other tiger, "if we can find chu-tu-shi, we are sure to catch this man up the tree." so off went one of them to find chu-tu-shi, while the other kept watch at the foot of the tree. soon after that another tiger, leaner and longer than the other two, appeared on the scene and made a grab at the man's coat. but fortunately the moon was shining, the man saw the paw, and with a stroke of his axe cut off one of its claws. the tigers roared and fled, one after the other, so the man climbed down the tree and went home. when he told his tale in the village, suspicion naturally fell on the said chu-tu-shi; next day some men went to see him in his house. they were told that they could not see him; for he had been out the night before and had hurt his hand, and he was now ill in bed. so they put two and two together and reported him to the police. the police arrived, surrounded the house, and set fire to it; but chu-tu-shi rose from his bed, turned into a tiger, charged right through the police, and escaped, and to this day nobody ever knew where he went to.[ ] [werewolves among the toradjas of central celebes.] the toradjas of central celebes stand in very great fear of werewolves, that is of men and women, who have the power of transforming their spirits into animals such as cats, crocodiles, wild pigs, apes, deer, and buffaloes, which roam about battening on human flesh, and especially on human livers, while the men and women in their own proper human form are sleeping quietly in their beds at home. among them a man is either born a were-wolf or becomes one by infection; for mere contact with a were-wolf, or even with anything that has been touched by his spittle, is quite enough to turn the most innocent person into a were-wolf; nay even to lean your head against anything against which a were-wolf has leaned his head suffices to do it. the penalty for being a were-wolf is death; but the sentence is never passed until the accused has had a fair trial and his guilt has been clearly demonstrated by an ordeal, which consists in dipping the middle finger into boiling resin. if the finger is not burnt, the man is no were-wolf; but if it is burnt, a werewolf he most assuredly is, so they take him away to a quiet spot and hack him to bits. in cutting him up the executioners are naturally very careful not to be bespattered with his blood, for if that were to happen they would of course be turned into were-wolves themselves. further, they place his severed head beside his hinder-quarters to prevent his soul from coming to life again and pursuing his depredations. so great is the horror of were-wolves among the toradjas, and so great is their fear of contracting the deadly taint by infection, that many persons have assured a missionary that they would not spare their own child if they knew him to be a were-wolf.[ ] now these people, whose faith in were-wolves is not a mere dying or dead superstition but a living, dreadful conviction, tell stories of were-wolves which conform to the type which we are examining. they say that once upon a time a were-wolf came in human shape under the house of a neighbour, while his real body lay asleep as usual at home, and calling out softly to the man's wife made an assignation with her to meet him in the tobacco-field next day. but the husband was lying awake and he heard it all, but he said nothing to anybody. next day chanced to be a busy one in the village, for a roof had to be put on a new house and all the men were lending a hand with the work, and among them to be sure was the were-wolf himself, i mean to say his own human self; there he was up on the roof working away as hard as anybody. but the woman went out to the tobacco-field, and behind went unseen her husband, slinking through the underwood. when they were come to the field, he saw the were-wolf make up to his wife, so out he rushed and struck at him with a stick. quick as thought, the were-wolf turned himself into a leaf, but the man was as nimble, for he caught up the leaf, thrust it into the joint of bamboo, in which he kept his tobacco, and bunged it up tight. then he walked back with his wife to the village, carrying the bamboo with the werewolf in it. when they came to the village, the human body of the were-wolf was still on the roof, working away with the rest. the man put the bamboo in a fire. at that the human were-wolf looked down from the roof and said, "don't do that." the man drew the bamboo from the fire, but a moment afterwards he put it in the fire again, and again the human were-wolf on the roof looked down and cried, "don't do that." but this time the man kept the bamboo in the fire, and when it blazed up, down fell the human were-wolf from the roof as dead as a stone.[ ] again, the following story went round among the toradjas not so very many years ago. the thing happened at soemara, on the gulf of tomori. it was evening and some men sat chatting with a certain hadji mohammad. when it had grown dark, one of the men went out of the house for something or other. a little while afterwards one of the company thought he saw a stag's antlers standing out sharp and clear against the bright evening sky. so hadji mohammad raised his gun and fired. a minute or two afterwards back comes the man who had gone out, and says he to hadji mohammad, "you shot at me and hit me. you must pay me a fine." they searched him but found no wound on him anywhere. then they knew that he was a were-wolf who had turned himself into a stag and had healed the bullet-wound by licking it. however, the bullet had found its billet, for two days afterwards he was a dead man.[ ] [were-wolves in the egyptian sudan.] in sennar, a province of the egyptian sudan, the hammeg and fungi enjoy the reputation of being powerful magicians who can turn themselves into hyaenas and in that guise scour the country at night, howling and gorging themselves. but by day they are men again. it is very dangerous to shoot at such human hyaenas by night. on the jebel bela mountain a soldier once shot at a hyaena and hit it, but it dragged itself off, bleeding, in the darkness and escaped. next morning he followed up the trail of blood and it led him straight to the hut of a man who was everywhere known for a wizard. nothing of the hyaena was to be seen, but the man himself was laid up in the house with a fresh wound and died soon afterwards. and the soldier did not long survive him.[ ] [the were-wolf story in petronius.] but the classical example of these stories is an old roman tale told by petronius. it is put in the mouth of one niceros. late at night he left the town to visit a friend of his, a widow, who lived at a farm five miles down the road. he was accompanied by a soldier, who lodged in the same house, a man of herculean build. when they set out it was near dawn, but the moon shone as bright as day. passing through the outskirts of the town, they came amongst the tombs, which lined the highroad for some distance. there the soldier made an excuse for retiring behind a monument, and niceros sat down to wait for him, humming a tune and counting the tombstones to pass the time. in a little he looked round for his companion, and saw a sight which froze him with horror. the soldier had stripped off his clothes to the last rag and laid them at the side of the highway. then he performed a certain ceremony over them, and immediately was changed into a wolf, and ran howling into the forest. when niceros had recovered himself a little, he went to pick up the clothes, but found that they were turned to stone. more dead than alive, he drew his sword, and, striking at every shadow cast by the tombstones on the moonlit road, he tottered to his friend's house. he entered it like a ghost, to the surprise of the widow, who wondered to see him abroad so late. "if you had only been here a little ago," said she, "you might have been of some use. for a wolf came tearing into the yard, scaring the cattle and bleeding them like a butcher. but he did not get off so easily, for the servant speared him in the neck." after hearing these words, niceros felt that he could not close an eye, so he hurried away home again. it was now broad daylight, but when he came to the place where the clothes had been turned to stone, he found only a pool of blood. he reached home, and there lay the soldier in bed like an ox in the shambles, and the doctor was bandaging his neck. "then i knew," said niceros, "that the man was a were-wolf, and never again could i break bread with him, no, not if you had killed me for it."[ ] [witches like were-wolves can temporarily transform themselves into animals.] these stories may help us to understand the custom of burning a bewitched animal, which has been observed in our own country down to recent times, if indeed it is even now extinct. for a close parallel may be traced in some respects between witches and were-wolves. like were-wolves, witches are commonly supposed to be able to transform themselves temporarily into animals for the purpose of playing their mischievous pranks;[ ] and like were-wolves they can in their animal disguise be compelled to unmask themselves to any one who succeeds in drawing their blood. in either case the animal-skin is conceived as a cloak thrown round the wicked enchanter; and if you can only pierce the skin, whether by the stab of a knife or the shot of a gun, you so rend the disguise that the man or woman inside of it stands revealed in his or her true colours. strictly speaking, the stab should be given on the brow or between the eyes in the case both of a witch and of a were-wolf;[ ] and it is vain to shoot at a were-wolf unless you have had the bullet blessed in a chapel of st. hubert or happen to be carrying about you, without knowing it, a four-leaved clover; otherwise the bullet will merely rebound from the were-wolf like water from a duck's back.[ ] however, in armenia they say that the were-wolf, who in that country is usually a woman, can be killed neither by shot nor by steel; the only way of delivering the unhappy woman from her bondage is to get hold of her wolf's skin and burn it; for that naturally prevents her from turning into a wolf again. but it is not easy to find the skin, for she is cunning enough to hide it by day.[ ] so with witches, it is not only useless but even dangerous to shoot at one of them when she has turned herself into a hare; if you do, the gun may burst in your hand or the shot come back and kill you. the only way to make quite sure of hitting a witch-animal is to put a silver sixpence or a silver button in your gun.[ ] for example, it happened one evening that a native of the island of tiree was going home with a new gun, when he saw a black sheep running towards him across the plain of reef. something about the creature excited his suspicion, so he put a silver sixpence in his gun and fired at it. instantly the black sheep became a woman with a drugget coat wrapt round her head. the man knew her quite well, for she was a witch who had often persecuted him before in the shape of a cat.[ ] [wounds inflicted on an animal into which a witch has transformed herself are inflicted on the witch herself.] again, the wounds inflicted on a witch-hare or a witch-cat are to be seen on the witch herself, just as the wounds inflicted on a were-wolf are to be seen on the man himself when he has doffed the wolfs skin. to take a few instances out of a multitude, a young man in the island of lismore was out shooting. when he was near balnagown loch, he started a hare and fired at it. the animal gave an unearthly scream, and then for the first time it occurred to him that there were no real hares in lismore. he threw away his gun in terror and fled home; and next day he heard that a notorious witch was laid up with a broken leg. a man need be no conjuror to guess how she came by that broken leg.[ ] again, at thurso certain witches used to turn themselves into cats and in that shape to torment an honest man. one night he lost patience, whipped out his broadsword, and put them to flight. as they were scurrying away he struck at them and cut off a leg of one of the cats. to his astonishment it was a woman's leg, and next morning he found one of the witches short of the corresponding limb.[ ] glanvil tells a story of "an old woman in cambridge-shire, whose astral spirit, coming into a man's house (as he was sitting alone at the fire) in the shape of an huge cat, and setting her self before the fire, not far from him, he stole a stroke at the back of it with a fire-fork, and seemed to break the back of it, but it scambled from him, and vanisht he knew not how. but such an old woman, a reputed witch, was found dead in her bed that very night, with her back broken, as i have heard some years ago credibly reported."[ ] in yorkshire during the latter half of the nineteenth century a parish clergyman was told a circumstantial story of an old witch named nanny, who was hunted in the form of a hare for several miles over the westerdale moors and kept well away from the dogs, till a black one joined the pack and succeeded in taking a bit out of one of the hare's legs. that was the end of the chase, and immediately afterwards the sportsmen found old nanny laid up in bed with a sore leg. on examining the wounded limb they discovered that the hurt was precisely in that part of it which in the hare had been bitten by the black dog and, what was still more significant, the wound had all the appearance of having been inflicted by a dog's teeth. so they put two and two together.[ ] the same sort of thing is often reported in lincolnshire. "one night," said a servant from kirton lindsey, "my father and brother saw a cat in front of them. father knew it was a witch, and took a stone and hammered it. next day the witch had her face all tied up, and shortly afterwards died." again, a bardney bumpkin told how a witch in his neighbourhood could take all sorts of shapes. one night a man shot a hare, and when he went to the witch's house he found her plastering a wound just where he had shot the hare.[ ] so in county leitrim, in ireland, they say that a hare pursued by dogs fled to a house near at hand, but just as it was bolting in at the door one of the dogs came up with it and nipped a piece out of its leg. the hunters entered the house and found no hare there but only an old woman, and her side was bleeding; so they knew what to think of her.[ ] [wounded witches in the vosges.] again, in the vosges mountains a great big hare used to come out every evening to take the air at the foot of the mont des fourches. all the sportsmen of the neighbourhood tried their hands on that hare for a month, but not one of them could hit it. at last one marksman, more knowing than the rest, loaded his gun with some pellets of a consecrated wafer in addition to the usual pellets of lead. that did the trick. if puss was not killed outright, she was badly hurt, and limped away uttering shrieks and curses in a human voice. later it transpired that she was no other than the witch of a neighbouring village who had the power of putting on the shape of any animal she pleased.[ ] again, a hunter of travexin, in the vosges, fired at a hare and almost shot away one of its hind legs. nevertheless the creature contrived to escape into a cottage through the open door. immediately a child's cries were heard to proceed from the cottage, and the hunter could distinguish these words, "daddy, daddy, come quick! poor mammy has her leg broken."[ ] [wounded witches in swabia.] in swabia the witches are liable to accidents of the same sort when they go about their business in the form of animals. for example, there was a soldier who was betrothed to a young woman and used to visit her every evening when he was off duty. but one evening the girl told him that he must not come to the house on friday nights, because it was never convenient to her to see him then. this roused his suspicion, and the very next friday night he set out to go to his sweetheart's house. on the way a white cat ran up to him in the street and dogged his steps, and when the animal would not make off he drew his sword and slashed off one of its paws. on that the cat bolted. the soldier walked on, but when he came to his sweetheart's house he found her in bed, and when he asked her what was the matter, she gave a very confused reply. noticing stains of blood on the bed, he drew down the coverlet and saw that the girl was weltering in her gore, for one of her feet was lopped off. "so that's what's the matter with you, you witch!" said he, and turned on his heel and left her, and within three days she was dead.[ ] again, a farmer in the neighbourhood of wiesensteig frequently found in his stable a horse over and above the four horses he actually owned. he did not know what to make of it and mentioned the matter to the smith. the smith said quietly, "the next time you see a fifth horse in the stable, just you send for me." well, it was not long before the strange horse was there again, and the farmer at once sent for the smith. he came bringing four horse-shoes with him, and said, "i'm sure the nag has no shoes; i'll shoe her for you." no sooner said than done. however, the smith overreached himself; for next day when his friend the farmer paid him a visit he found the smith's own wife prancing about with horse-shoes nailed on her hands and feet. but it was the last time she ever appeared in the shape of a horse.[ ] [the miller's wife and the two grey cats.] once more, in silesia they tell of a miller's apprentice, a sturdy and industrious young fellow, who set out on his travels. one day he came to a mill, and the miller told him that he wanted an apprentice but did not care to engage one, because hitherto all his apprentices had run away in the night, and when he came down in the morning the mill was at a stand. however, he liked the looks of the young chap and took him into his pay. but what the new apprentice heard about the mill and his predecessors was not encouraging; so the first night when it was his duty to watch in the mill he took care to provide himself with an axe and a prayer-book, and while he kept one eye on the whirring, humming wheels he kept the other on the good book, which he read by the flickering light of a candle set on a table. so the hours at first passed quietly with nothing to disturb him but the monotonous drone and click of the machinery. but on the stroke of twelve, as he was still reading with the axe lying on the table within reach, the door opened and in came two grey cats mewing, an old one and a young one. they sat down opposite him, but it was easy to see that they did not like his wakefulness and the prayer-book and the axe. suddenly the old cat reached out a paw and made a grab at the axe, but the young chap was too quick for her and held it fast. then the young cat tried to do the same for the prayer-book, but the apprentice gripped it tight. thus balked, the two cats set up such a squalling that the young fellow could hardly say his prayers. just before one o'clock the younger cat sprang on the table and fetched a blow with her right paw at the candle to put it out. but the apprentice struck at her with his axe and sliced the paw off, whereupon the two cats vanished with a frightful screech. the apprentice wrapped the paw up in paper to shew it to his master. very glad the miller was next morning when he came down and found the mill going and the young chap at his post. the apprentice told him what had happened in the night and gave him the parcel containing the cat's paw. but when the miller opened it, what was the astonishment of the two to find in it no cat's paw but a woman's hand! at breakfast the miller's young wife did not as usual take her place at the table. she was ill in bed, and the doctor had to be called in to bind up her right arm, because in hewing wood, so they said, she had made a slip and cut off her own right hand. but the apprentice packed up his traps and turned his back on that mill before the sun had set.[ ] [the analogy of were-wolves confirms the view that the reason for burning bewitched animals is either to burn the witch or to compel her to appear.] it would no doubt be easy to multiply instances, all equally well attested and authentic, of the transformation of witches into animals and of the damage which the women themselves have sustained through injuries inflicted on the animals.[ ] but the foregoing evidence may suffice to establish the complete parallelism between witches and were-wolves in these respects. the analogy appears to confirm the view that the reason for burning a bewitched animal alive is a belief that the witch herself is in the animal, and that by burning it you either destroy the witch completely or at least unmask her and compel her to reassume her proper human shape, in which she is naturally far less potent for mischief than when she is careering about the country in the likeness of a cat, a hare, a horse, or what not. this principle is still indeed clearly recognized by people in oldenburg, though, as might be expected, they do not now carry out the principle to its logical conclusion by burning the bewitched animal or person alive; instead they resort to a feeble and, it must be added, perfectly futile subterfuge dictated by a mistaken humanity or a fear of the police. "when anything living is bewitched in a house, for example, children or animals, they burn or boil the nobler inwards of animals, especially the hearts, but also the lungs or the liver. if animals have died, they take the inwards of one of them or of an animal of the same kind slaughtered for the purpose; but if that is not possible they take the inwards of a cock, by preference a black one. the heart, lung, or liver is stuck all over with needles, or marked with a cross cut, or placed on the fire in a tightly closed vessel, strict silence being observed and doors and windows well shut. when the heart boils or is reduced to ashes, the witch must appear, for during the boiling she feels the burning pain. she either begs to be released or seeks to borrow something, for example, salt or a coal of fire, or she takes the lid off the pot, or tries to induce the person whose spell is on her to speak. they say, too, that a woman comes with a spinning-wheel. if it is a sheep that has died, you proceed in the same way with a tripe from its stomach and prick it with needles while it is on the boil. instead of boiling it, some people nail the heart to the highest rafter of the house, or lay it on the edge of the hearth, in order that it may dry up, no doubt because the same thing happens to the witch. we may conjecture that other sympathetic means of destruction are employed against witchcraft. the following is expressly reported: the heart of a calf that has died is stuck all over with needles, enclosed in a bag, and thrown into flowing water before sunset."[ ] [there is the same reason for burning bewitched things; similarly by burning alive a person whose form a witch has assumed, you compel the witch to disclose herself.] and the same thing holds good also of inanimate objects on which a witch has cast her spell. in wales they say that "if a thing is bewitched, burn it, and immediately afterwards the witch will come to borrow something of you. if you give what she asks, she will go free; if you refuse it, she will burn, and a mark will be on her body the next day."[ ] so, too, in oldenburg, "the burning of things that are bewitched or that have been received from witches is another way of breaking the spell. it is often said that the burning should take place at a cross-road, and in several places cross-roads are shewn where the burning used to be performed.... as a rule, while the things are burning, the guilty witches appear, though not always in their own shape. at the burning of bewitched butter they often appear as cockchafers and can be killed with impunity. victuals received from witches may be safely consumed if only you first burn a portion of them."[ ] for example, a young man in oldenburg was wooing a girl, and she gave him two fine apples as a gift. not feeling any appetite at the time, he put the apples in his pocket, and when he came home he laid them by in a chest. two or three days afterwards he remembered the apples and went to the chest to fetch them. but when he would have put his hand on them, what was his horror to find in their stead two fat ugly toads in the chest. he hastened to a wise man and asked him what he should do with the toads. the man told him to boil the toads alive, but while he was doing so he must be sure on no account to lend anything out of the house. well, just as he had the toads in a pot on the fire and the water began to grow nicely warm, who should come to the door but the girl who had given him the apples, and she wished to borrow something; but he refused to give her anything, rated her as a witch, and drove her out of the house. a little afterwards in came the girl's mother and begged with tears in her eyes for something or other; but he turned her out also. the last word she said to him was that he should at least spare her daughter's life; but he paid no heed to her and let the toads boil till they fell to bits. next day word came that the girl was dead.[ ] can any reasonable man doubt that the witch herself was boiled alive in the person of the toads? [the burning alive of a supposed witch in ireland in .] moreover, just as a witch can assume the form of an animal, so she can assume the form of some other human being, and the likeness is sometimes so good that it is difficult to detect the fraud. however, by burning alive the person whose shape the witch has put on, you force the witch to disclose herself, just as by burning alive the bewitched animal you in like manner oblige the witch to appear. this principle may perhaps be unknown to science, falsely so called, but it is well understood in ireland and has been acted on within recent years. in march a peasant named michael cleary, residing at ballyvadlea, a remote and lonely district in the county of tipperary, burned his wife bridget cleary alive over a slow fire on the kitchen hearth in the presence of and with the active assistance of some neighbours, including the woman's own father and several of her cousins. they thought that she was not bridget cleary at all, but a witch, and that when they held her down on the fire she would vanish up the chimney; so they cried, while she was burning, "away she goes! away she goes!" even when she lay quite dead on the kitchen floor (for contrary to the general expectation she did not disappear up the chimney), her husband still believed that the woman lying there was a witch, and that his own dear wife had gone with the fairies to the old _rath_ or fort on the hill of kylenagranagh, where he would see her at night riding a grey horse and roped to the saddle, and that he would cut the ropes, and that she would stay with him ever afterwards. so he went with some friends to the fort night after night, taking a big table-knife with him to cut the ropes. but he never saw his wife again. he and the men who had held the woman on the fire were arrested and tried at clonmel for wilful murder in july ; they were all found guilty of manslaughter and sentenced to various terms of penal servitude and imprisonment; the sentence passed on michael cleary was twenty years' penal servitude.[ ] [sometimes bewitched animals are buried alive instead of being burned.] however, our british peasants, it must be confessed, have not always acted up to the strict logical theory which seems to call for death by fire as the proper treatment both of bewitched animals and of witches. sometimes, perhaps in moments of weakness, they have merely buried the bewitched animals alive instead of burning them. for example, in the year , "many cattle having died, john brughe and neane nikclerith, also one of the initiated, conjoined their mutual skill for the safety of the herd. the surviving animals were drove past a tub of water containing two enchanted stones: and each was sprinkled from the liquid contents in its course. one, however, being unable to walk, 'was by force drawin out at the byre dure; and the said johnne with nikclerith smelling the nois thereof said it wald not leive, caused are hoill to be maid in maw greane, quhilk was put quick in the hole and maid all the rest of the cattell theireftir to go over that place: and in that devillische maner, be charmeing,' they were cured."[ ] again, during the prevalence of a murrain about the year , certain persons proposed to stay the plague with the help of a celebrated "cureing stane" of which the laird of lee was the fortunate owner. but from this they were dissuaded by one who "had sene bestiall curet be taking are quik seik ox, and making are deip pitt, and bureing him therin, and be calling the oxin and bestiall over that place." indeed issobell young, the mother of these persons, had herself endeavoured to check the progress of the distemper by taking "ane quik ox with ane catt, and ane grit quantitie of salt," and proceeding "to burie the ox and catt quik with the salt, in ane deip hoill in the grund, as ane sacrifice to the devill, that the rest of the guidis might be fred of the seiknes or diseases."[ ] writing towards the end of the eighteenth century, john ramsay of ochtertyre tells us that "the violent death even of a brute is in some cases held to be of great avail. there is a disease called the _black spauld_, which sometimes rages like a pestilence among black cattle, the symptoms of which are a mortification in the legs and a corruption of the mass of blood. among the other engines of superstition that are directed against this fatal malady, the first cow seized with it is commonly buried alive, and the other cattle are forced to pass backwards and forwards over the pit. at other times the heart is taken out of the beast alive, and then the carcass is buried. it is remarkable that the leg affected is cut off, and hung up in some part of the house or byre, where it remains suspended, notwithstanding the seeming danger of infection. there is hardly a house in mull where these may not be seen. this practice seems to have taken its rise antecedent to christianity, as it reminds us of the pagan custom of hanging up offerings in their temples. in breadalbane, when a cow is observed to have symptoms of madness, there is recourse had to a peculiar process. they tie the legs of the mad creature, and throw her into a pit dug at the door of the fold. after covering the hole with earth, a large fire is kindled upon it; and the rest of the cattle are driven out, and forced to pass through the fire one by one."[ ] in this latter custom we may suspect that the fire kindled on the grave of the buried cow was originally made by the friction of wood, in other words, that it was a need-fire. again, writing in the year , sir arthur mitchell tells us that "for the cure of the murrain in cattle, one of the herd is still sacrificed for the good of the whole. this is done by burying it alive. i am assured that within the last ten years such a barbarism occurred in the county of moray."[ ] [calves killed and buried to save the rest of the herd.] sometimes, however, the animal has not even been buried alive, it has been merely killed and then buried. in this emasculated form the sacrifice, we may say with confidence, is absolutely useless for the purpose of stopping a murrain. nevertheless, it has been tried. thus in lincolnshire, when the cattle plague was so prevalent in , there was, i believe, not a single cowshed in marshland but had its wicken cross over the door; and other charms more powerful than this were in some cases resorted to. i never heard of the use of the needfire in the marsh, though it was, i believe, used on the wolds not many miles off. but i knew of at least one case in which a calf was killed and solemnly buried feet pointing upwards at the threshold of the cowshed. when our garthman told me of this, i pointed out to him that the charm had failed, for the disease had not spared that shed. but he promptly replied, "yis, but owd edwards were a soight too cliver; he were that mean he slew nobbutt a wankling cauf as were bound to deny anny road; if he had nobbutt tekken his best cauf it wud hev worked reight enuff; 'tain't in reason that owd skrat 'ud be hanselled wi' wankling draffle."[ ] notes: [ ] see jacob grimm, _deutsche mythologie_*[ ] (berlin, - ), i. , , . [ ] w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus der germanen und ihrer nachbarstämme_ (berlin, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] in the following survey of these fire-customs i follow chiefly w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, kap. vi. pp. _sqq._ compare also j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. _sqq._; walter e. kelly, _curiosities of indo-european tradition and folk-lore_ (london, ), pp. _sqq._; f. vogt, "scheibentreiben und frühlingsfeuer," _zeitschrift des vereins für volkskunde_, iii. ( ) pp. - ; _ibid._ iv. ( ) pp. - . [ ] _the scapegoat_, pp. _sqq._ [ ] the first sunday in lent is known as _invocavit_ from the first word of the mass for the day (o. frh. von reinsberg-düringsfeld, _fest-kalender aus böhmen_, p. ). [ ] le baron de reinsberg-düringsfeld, _calendrier belge_ (brussels, - ), i. - ; e. monseur, _le folklore wallon_ (brussels, n.d.), pp. _sq._ [ ] Émile hublard, _fêtes du temps jadis, les feux du carême_ (mons, ), pp. . for the loan of this work i am indebted to mrs. wherry of st. peter's terrace, cambridge. [ ] É. hublard, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] a. meyrac, _traditions, coutumes, légendes et contes des ardennes_ (charleville, ), p. . [ ] l.f. sauvé, _le folk-lore des hautes-vosges_ (paris, ), p. . the popular name for the bonfires in the upper vosges (_hautes-vosges_) is _chavandes_. [ ] e. cortet, _essai sur les fêtes religieuses_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ the local name for these bonfires is _bures_. [ ] charles beauquier, _les mois en franche-comté_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ in bresse the custom was similar. see _la bresse louhannaise, bulletin mensuel, organe de la société d'agriculture et d'horticulture de l'arrondissement de louhans_, mars, , pp. _sq._; e. cortet, _op. cit._ p. . the usual name for the bonfires is _chevannes_ or _schvannes_; but in some places they are called _foulères, foualères, failles_, or _bourdifailles_ (ch. beauquier, _op. cit._ p. ). but the sunday is called the sunday of the _brandons, bures, bordes_, or _boidès_, according to the place. the _brandons_ are the torches which are carried about the streets and the fields; the bonfires, as we have seen, bear another name. a curious custom, observed on the same sunday in franche-comté, requires that couples married within the year should distribute boiled peas to all the young folks of both sexes who demand them at the door. the lads and lasses go about from house to house, making the customary request; in some places they wear masks or are otherwise disguised. see ch. beauquier, _op. cit._ pp. - . [ ] curiously enough, while the singular is _granno-mio_, the plural is _grannas-mias_. [ ] dr. pommerol, "la fête des brandons et le dieu gaulois grannus," _bulletins et mémoires de la société d'anthropologie de paris_, v. série, ii. ( ) pp. - . [ ] _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] h. dessau, _inscriptiones latinae selectae_, vol. ii. pars i. (berlin, ) pp. _sq._, nos. - . [ ] (sir) john rhys, _celtic heathendom_ (london, ), pp. - . [ ] Émile hublard, _fêtes du temps jadis, les feux du carême_ (mons, ), p. , quoting dom grenier, _histoire de la province de picardie_. [ ] É. hublard, _op. cit._ p. , quoting dom grenier. [ ] m. desgranges, "usages du canton de bonneval," _mémoires de la société royale des antiquaires de france_, i. (paris, ) pp. - ; felix chapiseau, _le folk-lore de la beauce et du perche_ (paris, ), i. _sq._ [ ] john brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. . [ ] e. cortet, _essai sur les fêtes religieuses_ (paris, ), pp. _sq.; la bresse louhannaise_, mars, , p. . [ ] a. de nore, _coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de france_ (paris and lyons, ), pp. _sq._ a similar, though not identical, custom prevailed at valenciennes (_ibid._ p. ). [ ] a. de nore, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] désiré monnier, _traditions populaires comparées_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] laisnel de la salle, _croyances et légendes du centre de la france_ (paris, ). i. _sqq._ [ ] jules lecoeur, _esquisses du rocage normand_ (condé-sur-noireau, ), ii. _sq._ for more evidence of customs of this sort observed in various parts of france on the first sunday in lent, see madame clément, _histoire des fêtes civiles et religieuses_, etc., _du département du nord_*[ ] (cambrai, ), pp. _sqq._; Émile hublard, _fêtes du temps jadis, les feux du carême_ (mons, ), pp. _sqq._ [ ] j.h. schmitz, _sitten und sagen, lieder, sprüchwörter und räthsel des eifler volkes_ (trèves, - ), i. - ; n. hocker, in _zeitschrift für deutsche mythologie und sittenkunde_, i. ( ) p. ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus der germanen und ihrer nachbarstämme_ (berlin, ), p. . [ ] n. hocker, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._; w. mannhardt, _l.c._ [ ] f.j. vonbun, _beiträge zur deutschen mythologie_ (chur, ), p. ; w. mannhardt, _l.c._ [ ] ernst meier, _deutsche sagen, sitten und gebräuche aus schwaben_ (stuttgart, ), pp. _sqq._; anton birlinger, _volksthümliches aus schwaben_ (freiburg im breisgau, - ), ii. _sqq._, _sqq._; _bavaria, landes-und volkskunde des königreichs bayern_ (munich, - ), ii. , pp. _sq._; f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_ (munich, - ), i. , § ; w. mannhardt, _l.c._ one of the popular german names for the first sunday in lent is white sunday, which is not to be confused with the first sunday after easter, which also goes by the name of white sunday (e. meier, _op. cit._ p. ; a. birlinger, _op. cit._ ii. ). [ ] h. gaidoz, "le dieu gaulois du soleil et le symbolisme de la roue," _revue archéologique_, iii. série, iv. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] august witzschel, _sagen, sitten und gebräuche aus thüringen_ (vienna, ), p. ; f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_ (munich, - ), ii. ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus,_ pp. _sq._ [ ] w. kolbe, _hessiche volks-sitten und gebräuche_*[ ] (marburg, ), p. . [ ] adalbert kuhn, _die herabkunft des feuers und des göttertranks_*[ ] (gütersloh, ), p. , quoting hocker, _des mosellandes geschichten, sagen und legenden_ (trier, ), pp. _sqq._ compare w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. ; and below, pp. _sq._ thus it appears that the ceremony of rolling the fiery wheel down hill was observed twice a year at konz, once on the first sunday in lent, and once at midsummer. [ ] h. herzog, _schweizerische volksfeste, sitten und gebräuche_ (aarau, ), pp. - ; e. hoffmann-krayer, "fruchtbarkeitsriten im schweizerischen volksbrauch," _schweizerisches archiv für volkskunde_, xi. ( ) pp. - ; _id., feste und bräuche des schweizervolkes_ (zurich, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] theodor vernaleken, _mythen und bräuche des volkes in oesterreich_ (vienna, ), pp. _sq._; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . see _the dying god_, p. . [ ] j. h. schmitz, _sitten und sagen, lieder, sprüchwörter und räthsel des eifler volkes_ (treves, - ), i. ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] l. strackerjan, _aberglaube und sagen aus dem herzogthum oldenburg_ (oldenburg, ), ii. , § ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] w. mannhardt, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] w. mannhardt, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] christian schneller, _märchen und sagen aus wälschtirol_ (innsbruck, ), pp. _sq._; w. mannhardt, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] john brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. _sq._; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, pp. - ; karl freiherr von leoprechting, _aus dem lechrain_ (munich, ), pp. _sq._; anton birlinger, _volksthümliches aus schwaben_ (freiburg im breisgau, - ), i. _sq._; montanus, _die deutschen volksfeste, volksbräuche und deutscher volksglaube_ (iserlohn, n.d.), p. ; f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_ (munich, - ), ii. _sq._; ernst meier, _deutsche sagen, sitten und gebräuche aus schwaben_ (stuttgart, ), pp. _sq._; _bavaria, landes- und volkskunde des königreichs bayern_ (munich, - ), i. ; a. wuttke, _der deutsche volksaberglaube_*[ ] (berlin, ), pp. _sq._, § ; ignaz v. zingerle, _sitten, bräuche und meinungen des tiroler volkes_*[ ] (innsbruck, ), p. , §§ - ; w. kolbe, _hessische volks-sitten und gebräuche_*[ ] (marburg, ), pp. _sqq._; _county folk-lore, printed extracts, leicestershire and rutland_, collected by c.j. billson (london, ), pp. _sq._; a. tiraboschi, "usi pasquali nel bergamasco," _archivio per lo studio delle tradizione popolari_, i. ( ) pp. _sq._ the ecclesiastical custom of lighting the paschal or easter candle is very fully described by mr. h.j. feasey, _ancient english holy week ceremonial_ (london, ), pp. _sqq._ these candles were sometimes of prodigious size; in the cathedrals of norwich and durham, for example, they reached almost to the roof, from which they had to be lighted. often they went by the name of the judas light or the judas candle; and sometimes small waxen figures of judas were hung on them. see h.j. feasey, _op. cit._ pp. , _sqq._ as to the ritual of the new fire at st. peter's in rome, see r. chambers, _the book of days_ (london and edinburgh, ), i. ; and as to the early history of the rite in the catholic church, see mgr. l. duchesne, _origines du culte chrétien_*[ ] (paris, ), pp. - .] [ ] _bavaria, landes und volkskunde des königreichs bayern_ (munich, - ), i. _sq._ [ ] gennaro finamore, _credenze, usi e costumi abruzzesi_ (palermo, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] g. finamore, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] vincenzo dorsa, _la tradizione greco-latina negli usi e nelle credenze popolari della calabria citeriore_ (cosenza, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] alois john, _sitte, brauch und volksglaube im deutschen westböhmen_ (prague, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] k. seifart, _sagen, märchen, schwänke und gebräuche aits stadt und stift hildesheim_*[ ] (hildesheim, ), pp. _sq._, _sq._ [ ] m. lexer, "volksüberlieferungen aus dem lesachthal in karnten," _zeitschrift für deutsche mythologie und sittenkunde_, iii. ( ) p. . [ ] _the popish kingdome or reigne of antichrist, written in latin verse by thomas naogeorgus and englyshed by barnabe googe_, , edited by r.c. hope (london, ), p. , _recto._ the title of the original poem was _regnum papisticum_. the author, thomas kirchmeyer (naogeorgus, as he called himself), died in . the book is a satire on the abuses and superstitions of the catholic church. only one perfect copy of googe's translation is known to exist: it is in the university library at cambridge. see mr. r.c. hope's introduction to his reprint of this rare work, pp. xv. _sq._ the words, "then clappers ceasse, and belles are set againe at libertée," refer to the custom in catholic countries of silencing the church bells for two days from noon on maundy thursday to noon on easter saturday and substituting for their music the harsh clatter of wooden rattles. see r. chambers, _the book of days_ (london and edinburgh, ), i, _sq._ according to another account the church bells are silent from midnight on the wednesday preceding maundy thursday till matins on easter day. see w. smith and s. cheetham, _dictionary of christian antiquities_ (london, - ), ii. , referring to _ordo roman_. i. _u.s._ [ ] r. chambers, _the book of days_ (london and edinburgh, ), i. . [ ] miss jessie l. weston, "the _scoppio del carro_ at florence," _folk-lore_, xvi. ( ) pp. - ; "lo scoppio del carro," _resurrezione, numero unico del sabato santo_ (florence, april, ), p. (giving a picture of the car with its pyramid of fire-works). the latter paper was kindly sent to me from florence by my friend professor w.j. lewis. i have also received a letter on the subject from signor carlo placci, dated (or ) september, , via alfieri, firenze. [ ] frederick starr, "holy week in mexico," _the journal of american folk-lore_, xii. ( ) pp. _sq._; c. boyson taylor, "easter in many lands," _everybody's magazine_, new york, , p. . i have to thank mr. s.s. cohen, of walnut street, philadelphia, for sending me a cutting from the latter magazine. [ ] k. von den steinen, _unter den naturvölkern zentral-brasiliens_ (berlin, ), pp. _sq._; e. montet, "religion et superstition dans l'amérique du sud," _revue de l'histoire des religions_, xxxii. ( ) p. . [ ] j.j. von tschudi, _peru, reiseskizzen aus den jahren - _ (st. gallen, ), ii. _sq._ [ ] h. candelier, _rio-hacha et les indiens goajires_ (paris, ), p. . [ ] henry maundrell, "a journey from aleppo to jerusalem at easter, a.d. ," in bohn's _early travellers in palestine_ (london, ), pp. - ; mgr. auvergne, in _annales de la propagation de la foi_, x. ( ) pp. _sq._; a.p. stanley, _sinai and palestine_, second edition (london, ), pp. - ; e. cortet, _essai sur les fêtes religieuses_ (paris, ), pp. - ; a.w. kinglake, _eothen_, chapter xvi. pp. - (temple classics edition); father n. abougit, s.j., "le feu du saint-sépulcre," _les missions catholiques_, viii. ( ) pp. _sq._; rev. c.t. wilson, _peasant life in the holy land_ (london, ), pp. _sq._; p. saint-yves, "le renouvellement du feu sacré," _revue des traditions populaires_, xxvii. ( ) pp. _sqq._ the distribution of the new fire in the church of the holy sepulchre is the subject of a picture by holman hunt. from some printed notes on the picture, with which mrs. holman hunt was so kind as to furnish me, it appears that the new fire is carried by horsemen to bethlehem and jaffa, and that a russian ship conveys it from jaffa to odessa, whence it is distributed all over the country. [ ] father x. abougit, s.j., "le feu du saint-sépulcre," _les missions catholiques_, viii. ( ) pp. - . [ ] i have described the ceremony as i witnessed it at athens, on april th, . compare _folk-lore_, i. ( ) p. . having been honoured, like other strangers, with a place on the platform, i did not myself detect lucifer at work among the multitude below; i merely suspected his insidious presence. [ ] w.h.d. rouse, "folk-lore from the southern sporades," _folk-lore_, x. ( ) p. . [ ] mrs. a.e. gardner was so kind as to send me a photograph of a theban judas dangling from a gallows and partially enveloped in smoke. the photograph was taken at thebes during the easter celebration of . [ ] g.f. abbott, _macedonian folklore_ (cambridge, ) p. . [ ] cirbied, "mémoire sur la gouvernment et sur la religion des anciens arméniens," _mémoires publiées par la société royale des antiquaires de france_, ii. ( ) pp. - ; manuk abeghian, _der armenische volksglaube_ (leipsic, ), pp. - . the ceremony is said to be merely a continuation of an old heathen festival which was held at the beginning of spring in honour of the fire-god mihr. a bonfire was made in a public place, and lamps kindled at it were kept burning throughout the year in each of the fire-god's temples. [ ] _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, i. , ii. ; _spirits of the corn and of the wild_, ii. , , , , . [ ] garcilasso de la vega, _royal commentaries of the yncas_ translated by (sir) clements r. markham (hakluyt society, london, - ), vol. ii. pp. - . compare juan de velasco, "histoire du royaume de quito," in h. ternaux-compans's _voyages, relations et mémoires originaux pour servir à l'histoire de la découverte de l'amérique_, xviii. (paris, ) p. . [ ] b. de sahagun, _histoire générale des choses de la nouvelle espagne_, traduite par d. jourdanet et r. simeon (paris, ), bk. ii. chapters and , pp. , ; brasseur de bourbourg, _histoire des nations civilisées du mexique et de l'amérique-centrale_ (paris, - ), iii. . [ ] mrs. matilda coxe stevenson, "the zuñi indians," _twenty-third annual report of the bureau of american ethnology_ (washington, ), pp. - , - , especially pp. , , _sq._, _sq._, _sq._, , _sq._, _sq._ i have already described these ceremonies in _totemism and exogamy_, iii. _sq._ among the hopi (moqui) indians of walpi, another pueblo village of this region, new fire is ceremonially kindled by friction in november. see jesse walter fewkes, "the tusayan new fire ceremony," _proceedings of the boston society of natural history_, xxvi. - ; _id._, "the group of tusayan ceremonials called _katcinas," fifteenth annual report of the bureau of ethnology_ (washington, ), p. ; _id._, "hopi _katcinas," twenty-first annual report of the bureau of american ethnology_ (washington, ), p. . [ ] henry r. schoolcraft, _notes on the iroquois_ (albany, ), p. . schoolcraft did not know the date of the ceremony, but he conjectured that it fell at the end of the iroquois year, which was a lunar year of twelve or thirteen months. he says: "that the close of the lunar series should have been the period of putting out the fire, and the beginning of the next, the time of relumination, from new fire, is so consonant to analogy in the tropical tribes, as to be probable" (_op. cit._ p. ). [ ] c.f. hall, _life with the esquimaux_ (london, ), ii. . [ ] franz boas, "the eskimo of baffin land and hudson bay," _bulletin of the american museum of natural, history_, xv. part i. (new york, ) p. . [ ] g. nachtigal, _saharâ und sûdân_, iii. (leipsic, ) p. . [ ] major c. percival, "tropical africa, on the border line of mohamedan civilization," _the geographical journal_, xlii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] adrien germain, "note sur zanzibar et la côte orientale de l'afrique," _bulletin de la société de géographie_ (paris), v. série xvi. ( ) p. ; _les missions catholiques_, iii. ( ) p. ; charles new, _life, wanderings, and labours in eastern africa_ (london, ), p. ; jerome becker, _la vie en afrique_ (paris and brussels, ), ii. ; o. baumann, _usambara und seine nachbargebiele_ (berlin, ), pp. _sq._; c. velten, _sitten und gebräucheaer suaheli_ (göttingen, ), pp. - . [ ] duarte barbosa, _description of the coasts of east africa and malabar_ (hakluyt society, london, ), p. ; _id._, in _records of south-eastern africa_, collected by g. mccall theal, vol. i. ( ) p. ; damião de goes, "chronicle of the most fortunate king dom emanuel," in _records of south-eastern africa_, collected by g. mccall theal, vol. iii. ( ) pp. _sq._ the name benametapa (more correctly _monomotapa_) appears to have been the regular title of the paramount chief, which the portuguese took to be the name of the country. the people over whom he ruled seem to have been the bantu tribe of the makalanga in the neighbourhood of sofala. see g. mccall theal, _records of south-eastern africa_, vii. ( ) pp. - . it is to their custom of annually extinguishing and relighting the fire that montaigne refers in his essay (i. , vol. i. p. of charpentier's edition), though he mentions no names. [ ] sir h.h. johnson, _british central africa_ (london, ), pp. , . [ ] w.h.r. rivers, _the todas_ (london, ), pp. - . [ ] lieut. r. stewart, "notes on northern cachar," _journal of the asiatic society of bengal_ xxiv. ( ) p. . [ ] a. bastian, _die völker des östlichen asien_, ii. (leipsic, ) pp. _sq._; shway yoe, _the burman_ (london, ), ii. _sq._ [ ] g. schlegel, _uranographie chinoise_ (the hague and leyden, ), pp. - ; c. puini, "il fuoco nella tradizione degli antichi cinesi," _giornale della società asiatica italiana_, i. ( ) pp. - ; j.j.m. de groot, _les fétes annuellement célébrées à Émoui (amoy)_ (paris, ), i. _sqq._ the notion that fire can be worn out with age meets us also in brahman ritual. see the _satapatha brahmana_, translated by julius eggeling, part i. (oxford, ) p. (_sacred books of the east_, vol. xii.). [ ] w.g. aston, _shinto, the way of the gods_ (london, ), pp. _sq._, compare p. . the wands in question are sticks whittled near the top into a mass of adherent shavings; they go by the name of _kedzurikake_ ("part-shaved"), and resemble the sacred _inao_ of the aino. see w.g. aston, _op. cit._ p. ; and as to the _inao_, see _spirits of the corn and of the wild_, ii. , with note . [ ] ovid, _fasti_, iii. ; homer, _iliad_, i. , _sqq._ [ ] philostiatus, _heroica_, xx. . [ ] ovid, _fasti_, iii. _sq._; macrobius, _saturn_, i. . . [ ] festus, ed. c.o. müller (leipsic, ), p. , _s.v._ "ignis." plutarch describes a method of rekindling the sacred fire by means of the sun's rays reflected from a hollow mirror (_numa_, ); but he seems to be referring to a greek rather than to the roman custom. the rule of celibacy imposed on the vestals, whose duty it was to relight the sacred fire as well as to preserve it when it was once made, is perhaps explained by a superstition current among french peasants that if a girl can blow up a smouldering candle into a flame she is a virgin, but that if she fails to do so, she is not. see jules lecoeur, _esquisses du bocage normand_ (condé-sur-noireau, - ), ii. ; b. souché, _croyances, présages et traditions diverses_ (niort, ), p. . at least it seems more likely that the rule sprang from a superstition of this sort than from a simple calculation of expediency, as i formerly suggested (_journal of philology_, xiv. ( ) p. ). compare _the magic art and the evolution of kings>_ ii. _sqq._ [ ] geoffrey keating, d.d., _the history of ireland, translated from the original gaelic, and copiously annotated_, by john o'mahony (new york, ), p. , with the translator's note. compare (sir) john rhys, _celtic heathendom_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] w.r.s. ralston, _songs of the russian people_, second edition (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] a. kuhn und w. schwartz, _norddeutsche sagen, märchen und gebräuche_ (leipsic, ), p. ; a. kuhn, _sagen, gebräuche und märchen aus westfalen_ (leipsic, ), ii. _sqq.; id., märkische sagen und märchen_ (berlin, ), pp. _sq._; j.d.h. temme, _die volkssagen der altmark_ (berlin, ), pp. _sq._; k. lynker, _deutsche sagen und sitten in hessischen gauen_*[ ] (cassel and göttingen, ), p. ; h. pröhle, _harzbilder_ (leipsic, ), p. ; r. andree, _braunschweiger volkskunde_ (brunswick, ), pp. - ; w. kolbe, _hessische volks-sitten und gebräuche_ (marburg, ), pp. - ; f.a. reimann, _deutsche volksfeste_ (weimar, ), p. ; "sitten und gebräuche in duderstadt," _zeitschrift für deutsche mythologie und sitten-kunde_, ii. ( ) p. ; k. seifart, _sagen, märchen, schwänke und gebräuche aus stadt und stift hildesheim_*[ ] (hildesheim, ), pp. , ; o. hartung, "zur volkskunde aus anhalt," _zeitschrift des vereins für volkskunde_, vii. ( ) p. . [ ] l. strackerjan, _aberglaube und sagen aus dem herzogthum oldenburg_ (oldenburg, ), ii. p. _sq._, § ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus der germanen und ihrer nachbarstämme_ (berlin, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] l. strackerjan, _op. cit._ ii. p. , § . [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] (berlin, - ), i. ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus der germanen und ihrer nachbarstämme_, pp. _sq._ [ ] h. pröhle, _harzbilder_ (leipsic, ), p. ; _id._, in _zeitschrift für deutsche mythologie und sittenkunde_, i. ( ) p. ; a. kuhn und w. schwartz, _norddeutsche sagen, märchen und gebräuche_ (leipsic, ), p. ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] a. kuhn, _märkische sagen und märchen_ (berlin, ), pp. _sq._; w. mannhardt, _l.c._ [ ] w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_ p. . compare j.w. wolf, _beiträge zur deutschen mythologie_ (göttingen, - ), i. ; j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. . the two latter writers only state that before the fires were kindled it was customary to hunt squirrels in the woods. [ ] a. kuhn, _l.c._; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] _bavaria, landes- und volkskunde des königreichs bayern_ (munich, - ), iii. . [ ] see above, pp. _sq._, . [ ] f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_ (munich, - ), i. pp. _sq._, § ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, pp. _sq._ [ ] _bavaria, landes- und volkskunde des königreichs bayern_, iii. . [ ] f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_ (munich, - ), i. pp. _sq._, § . [ ] f. panzer, _op. cit._ ii. pp. _sq._, §§ , . the customs observed at these places and at althenneberg are described together by w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] a. birlinger, _volksthümliches aus schwaben_ (freiburg im breisgau, - ), ii. p. , § ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] elard hugo meyer, _badisches volksleben_ (strasburg, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, ii. _sqq._ see further below, vol. ii. pp. _sqq._ [ ] j.w. wolf, _beiträge sur deutschen mythologie_, i. _sq._; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] l. lloyd, _peasant life in sweden_ (london, ), p. . [ ] w. müller, _beiträge sur volkskunde der deutschen in mahren_ (vienna and olmütz, ), pp. , _sq._ in wagstadt, a town of austrian silesia, a boy in a red waistcoat used to play the part of judas on the wednesday before good friday. he was chased from before the church door by the other school children, who pursued him through the streets with shouts and the noise of rattles and clappers till they reached a certain suburb, where they always caught and beat him because he had betrayed the redeemer. see anton peter, _volksthümliches aus österreichisch-schlesien_ (troppau, - ), ii. _sq._; paul drechsler, _sitte, brauch und volksglaube in schlesien_ (leipsic, - ), i. _sq._ [ ] _scotland and scotsmen in the eighteenth century_, from the mss. of john ramsay, esq., of ochtertyre, edited by alexander allardyce (edinburgh and london, ), ii. - . as to the _tein-eigin_ or need-fire, see below, pp. _sqq_. the etymology of the word beltane is uncertain; the popular derivation of the first part from the phoenician baal is absurd. see, for example, john graham dalyell, _the darker superstitions of scotland_ (edinburgh, ), pp. _sq._: "the recognition of the pagan divinity baal, or bel, the sun, is discovered through innumerable etymological sources. in the records of scottish history, down to the sixteenth or seventeenth centuries, multiplied prohibitions were issued from the fountains of ecclesiastical ordinances, against kindling _bailfires_, of which the origin cannot be mistaken. the festival of this divinity was commemorated in scotland until the latest date." modern scholars are not agreed as to the derivation of the name beltane. see rev. john gregorson campbell, _witchcraft and second sight in the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), pp. _sq._; j.a. macculloch, _the religion of the ancient celts_ (edinburgh, ), p. . [ ] "_bal-tein_ signifies the _fire of baal. baal_ or _ball_ is the only word in gaelic for _a globe_. this festival was probably in honour of the sun, whose return, in his apparent annual course, they celebrated, on account of his having such a visible influence, by his genial warmth, on the productions of the earth. that the caledonians paid a superstitious respect to the sun, as was the practice among many other nations, is evident, not only by the sacrifice at baltein, but upon many other occasions. when a highlander goes to bathe, or to drink waters out of a consecrated fountain, he must always approach by going round the place, _from east to west on the south side_, in imitation of the apparent diurnal motion of the sun. when the dead are laid in the earth, the grave is approached by going round in the same manner. the bride is conducted to her future spouse, in the presence of the minister, and the glass goes round a company, in the course of the sun. this is called, in gaelic, going round the right, or the _lucky way_. the opposite course is the wrong, or the _unlucky_ way. and if a person's meat or drink were to affect the wind-pipe, or come against his breath, they instantly cry out _deisheal_! which is an ejaculation praying that it may go by the right way" (rev. j. robertson, in sir john sinclair's _statistical account of scotland_, xi. note). compare j.g. campbell, _superstitions of the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), pp. _sq._: "_the right-hand turn_ (_deiseal_).-- this was the most important of all the observances. the rule is '_deiseal_ (i.e. the right-hand turn) for everything,' and consists in doing all things with a motion corresponding to the course of the sun, or from left to right. this is the manner in which screw-nails are driven, and is common with many for no reason but its convenience. old men in the highlands were very particular about it. the coffin was taken _deiseal_ about the grave, when about to be lowered; boats were turned to sea according to it, and drams are given to the present day to a company. when putting a straw rope on a house or corn-stack, if the assistant went _tuaitheal_ (i.e. against the course of the sun), the old man was ready to come down and thrash him. on coming to a house the visitor should go round it _deiseal_ to secure luck in the object of his visit. after milking a cow the dairy-maid should strike it _deiseal_ with the shackle, saying 'out and home' (_mach 'us dachaigh_). this secures its safe return. the word is from _deas_, right-hand, and _iul_, direction, and of itself contains no allusion to the sun." compare m. martin, "description of the western islands of scotland," in j. pinkerton's _voyages and travels_, iii. _sq._: "there was an ancient custom in the island of lewis, to make a fiery circle about the houses, corn, cattle, etc., belonging to each particular family: a man carried fire in his right hand, and went round, and it was called _dessil_, from the right hand, which in the ancient language is called _dess_.... there is another way of the _dessil_, or carrying fire round about women before they are churched, after child-bearing; and it is used likewise about children until they are christened; both which are performed in the morning and at night. this is only practised now by some of the ancient midwives: i enquired their reason for this custom, which i told them was altogether unlawful; this disobliged them mightily, insomuch that they would give me no satisfaction. but others, that were of a more agreeable temper, told me that fire-round was an effectual means to preserve both the mother and the infant from the power of evil spirits, who are ready at such times to do mischief, and sometimes carry away the infant; and when they get them once in their possession, return them poor meagre skeletons; and these infants are said to have voracious appetites, constantly craving for meat. in this case it was usual with those who believed that their children were thus taken away, to dig a grave in the fields upon quarter-day, and there to lay the fairy skeleton till next morning; at which time the parents went to the place, where they doubted not to find their own child instead of this skeleton. some of the poorer sort of people in these islands retain the custom of performing these rounds sun-ways about the persons of their benefactors three times, when they bless them, and wish good success to all their enterprizes. some are very careful when they set out to sea that the boat be first rowed about sun-ways; and if this be neglected, they are afraid their voyage may prove unfortunate." probably the superstition was based entirely on the supposed luckiness of the right hand, which accordingly, in making a circuit round an object, is kept towards the centre. as to a supposed worship of the sun among the scottish highlanders, compare j.g. campbell, _witchcraft and second sight in the highlands and islands of scotland_, p. : "both the sun (_a ghrian_) and moon (_a ghealach_) are feminine in gaelic, and the names are simply descriptive of their appearance. there is no trace of a sun-god or moon-goddess." as to the etymology of beltane, see above, p. note. [ ] rev. james robertson (parish minister of callander), in sir john sinclair's _statistical account of scotland_ (edinburgh, - ), xi. _sq._ [ ] pennant's "tour in scotland," in john pinkerton's _voyages and travels_ (london, - ), iii. . [ ] rev. dr. thomas bisset, in sir john sinclair's _statistical account of scotland_, v. . [ ] rev. allan stewart, in sir john sinclair's _statistical account of scotland_, xv. note. [ ] rev. walter gregor, "notes on beltane cakes," _folk-lore_, vi. ( ) pp. _sq._ the beltane cakes with the nine knobs on them remind us of the cakes with twelve knobs which the athenians offered to cronus and other deities (see _the scapegoat_, p. ). the king of the bean on twelfth night was chosen by means of a cake, which was broken in as many pieces as there were persons present, and the person who received the piece containing a bean or a coin became king. see j. boemus, _mores, leges et ritus omnium gentium_ (lyons, ), p. ; john brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. _sq.; the scapegoat_, pp. _sqq._ [ ] shaw, in pennant's "tour in scotland," printed in j. pinkerton's _voyages and travels_, iii. . the part of scotland to which shaw's description applies is what he calls the province or country of murray, extending from the river spey on the east to the river beauly on the west, and south-west to loch lochy. [ ] rev. walter gregor, _notes on the folk-lore of the north-east of scotland_ (london, ), p. . [ ] a. goodrich-freer, "more folklore from the hebrides," _folk-lore_, xiii. ( ) p. . the st. michael's cake (_strùthan na h'eill micheil_), referred to in the text, is described as "the size of a quern" in circumference. "it is kneaded simply with water, and marked across like a scone, dividing it into four equal parts, and then placed in front of the fire resting on a quern. it is not polished with dry meal as is usual in making a cake, but when it is cooked a thin coating of eggs (four in number), mixed with buttermilk, is spread first on one side, then on the other, and it is put before the fire again. an earlier shape, still in use, which tradition associates with the female sex, is that of a triangle with the corners cut off. a _strùhthan_ or _strùhdhan_ (the word seems to be used for no other kind of cake) is made for each member of the household, including servants and herds. when harvest is late, an early patch of corn is mown on purpose for the _strùthan_" (a. goodrich-freer, _op. cit._ pp. . _sq._.) [ ] marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), pp. - . [ ] jonathan ceredig davies, _folklore of west and mid-wales_ (aberystwyth, ), p. . [ ] joseph train, _an historical and statistical account of the isle of man_ (douglas, isle of man, ), i. _sq._ [ ] (sir) john rhys, _celtic folk-lore, welsh and manx_ (oxford, ), i. ; _id._, "the coligny calendar," _proceedings of the british academy, - _, pp. _sq._ see further _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, ii. _sq._ [ ] professor frank granger, "early man," in _the victoria history of the county of nottingham_, edited by william page, i. (london, ) pp. _sq._ [ ] (sir) john rhys, _celtic folk-lore, welsh and manx_ (oxford, ), i. ; _id._, "manx folk-lore and superstitions," _folk-lore_, ii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] p.w. joyce, _a social history of ancient ireland_ (london, ), i. _sq._, referring to kuno meyer, _hibernia minora_, p. and _glossary_, . [ ] j.b. bury, _the life of st. patrick_ (london, ), pp. _sqq._ [ ] above, p. . [ ] geoffrey keating, d.d., _the history of ireland_, translated by john o'mahony (new york, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] (sir) john rhys, "manx folk-lore and superstition," _folk-lore_, ii. ( ) p. ; _id., celtic folk-lore, welsh and manx_ (oxford, ), i. . compare p.w. joyce, _a social history of ancient ireland_ (london, ), i. : "the custom of driving cattle through fires against disease on the eve of the st of may, and on the eve of the th june (st. john's day), continued in ireland, as well as in the scottish highlands, to a period within living memory." in a footnote mr. joyce refers to carmichael, _carmina gadelica_, ii. , for scotland, and adds, "i saw it done in ireland." [ ] l. lloyd, _peasant life in sweden_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] reinsberg-düringsfeld, _fest-kalender aus böhmen_ (prague, n.d.), pp. _sq._; br. jelínek, "materialien zur vorgeschichte und volkskunde böhmens," _mittheilungen der anthropologischen gesellschaft in wien_, xxi. ( ) p. ; alois john, _sitte, branch, und volksglaube im deutschen westböhmen_ (prague, ), p. . [ ] j.a.e. köhler, _volksbrauch, aberglauben, sagen und andre alte ueberlieferungen im voigtlande_ (leipsic, ), p. . the superstitions relating to witches at this season are legion. for instance, in saxony and thuringia any one who labours under a physical blemish can easily rid himself of it by transferring it to the witches on walpurgis night. he has only to go out to a cross-road, make three crosses on the blemish, and say, "in the name of god the father, the son, and the holy ghost." thus the blemish, whatever it may be, is left behind him at the cross-road, and when the witches sweep by on their way to the brocken, they must take it with them, and it sticks to them henceforth. moreover, three crosses chalked up on the doors of houses and cattle-stalls on walpurgis night will effectually prevent any of the infernal crew from entering and doing harm to man or beast. see e. sommer, _sagen, märchen und gebräuche aus sachsen und thüringen_ (halle, ), pp. _sq.; die gestriegelte rockenphilosophie_ (chemnitz, ), p. . [ ] see _the scapegoat_, pp. _sqq._ [ ] as to the midsummer festival of europe in general see the evidence collected in the "specimen calendarii gentilis," appended to the _edda rhythmica seu antiquior, vulgo saemundina dicta_, pars iii. (copenhagen, ) pp. - . [ ] john mitchell kemble, _the saxons in england_, new edition (london, ), i. _sq_., quoting "an ancient ms. written in england, and now in the harleian collection, no. , fol. ." the passage is quoted in part by j. brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. _sq._, by r.t. hampson, _medii aevi kalendarium_ (london, ), i. , and by w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . the same explanations of the midsummer fires and of the custom of trundling a burning wheel on midsummer eve are given also by john beleth, a writer of the twelfth century. see his _rationale divinorum officiorum_ (appended to the _rationale divinorum officiorum_ of g. [w.] durandus, lyons, ), p. _recto: "solent porro hoc tempore_ [the eve of st. john the baptist] _ex veteri consuetudine mortuorum animalium ossa comburi, quod hujusmodi habet originem. sunt enim animalia, quae dracones appellamus.... haec inquam animalia in aere volant, in aquis natant, in terra ambulant. sed quando in aere ad libidinem concitantur (quod fere fit) saepe ipsum sperma vel in puteos, vel in aquas fluviales ejicunt ex quo lethalis sequitur annus. adversus haec ergo hujusmodi inventum est remedium, ut videlicet rogus ex ossibus construeretur, et ita fumus hujusmodi animalia fugaret. et quia istud maxime hoc tempore fiebat, idem etiam modo ab omnibus observatur.... consuetum item est hac vigilia ardentes deferri faculas quod johannes fuerit ardens lucerna, et qui vias domini praeparaverit. sed quod etiam rota vertatur hinc esse putant quia in eum circulum tunc sol descenderit ultra quem progredi nequit, a quo cogitur paulatim descendere_." the substance of the passage is repeated in other words by g. durandus (wilh. durantis), a writer of the thirteenth century, in his _rationale divinorum officiorum_, lib. vii. cap. (p. _verso_, ed. lyons, ). compare j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. . with the notion that the air is poisoned at midsummer we may compare the popular belief that it is similarly infected at an eclipse. thus among the esquimaux on the lower yukon river in alaska "it is believed that a subtle essence or unclean influence descends to the earth during an eclipse, and if any of it is caught in utensils of any kind it will produce sickness. as a result, immediately on the commencement of an eclipse, every woman turns bottom side up all her pots, wooden buckets, and dishes" (e.w. nelson, "the eskimo about bering strait," _eighteenth annual report of the bureau of american ethnology_, part i. (washington, ) p. ). similar notions and practices prevail among the peasantry of southern germany. thus the swabian peasants think that during an eclipse of the sun poison falls on the earth; hence at such a time they will not sow, mow, gather fruit or eat it, they bring the cattle into the stalls, and refrain from business of every kind. if the eclipse lasts long, the people get very anxious, set a burning candle on the mantel-shelf of the stove, and pray to be delivered from the danger. see anton birlinger, _volksthümliches aus schwaben_ (freiburg im breisgau, - ), i. . similarly bavarian peasants imagine that water is poisoned during a solar eclipse (f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_, ii. ); and thuringian bumpkins cover up the wells and bring the cattle home from pasture during an eclipse either of the sun or of the moon; an eclipse is particularly poisonous when it happens to fall on a wednesday. see august witzschel, _sagen, sitten und gebräuche aus thüringen_ (vienna, ), p. . as eclipses are commonly supposed by the ignorant to be caused by a monster attacking the sun or moon (e.b. tylor, _primitive culture_,*[ ] london, , i. _sqq._), we may surmise, on the analogy of the explanation given of the midsummer fires, that the unclean influence which is thought to descend on the earth at such times is popularly attributed to seed discharged by the monster or possibly by the sun or moon then in conjunction with each other. [ ] _the popish kingdome or reigne of antichrist, written in latin verse by thomas naogeorgus and englyshed by barnabe googe, _, edited by r.c. hope (london, ), p. _verso_. as to this work see above, p. note . [ ] j. boemus, _mores, leges et ritus omnium gentium_ (lyons, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] tessier, "sur la fête annuelle de la roue flamboyante de la saint-jean, à basse-kontz, arrondissement de thionville," _mémoires et dissertations publiés par la société royale des antiquaires de france_, v. ( ) pp. - . tessier witnessed the ceremony, rd june (not , as is sometimes stated). his account has been reproduced more or less fully by j. grimm (_deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. _sq._) w. mannhardt (_der baumkultus_, pp. _sq._), and h. gaidoz ("le dieu gaulois du soleil et le symbolisme de la roue," _revue archéologique_, iii. série, iv. ( ) pp. _sq._). [ ] _bavaria, landes- und volkskunde des königreichs bayern_ (munich, - ), i. _sq_.; compare _id_., iii. _sq_. as to the burning discs at the spring festivals, see above, pp. _sq_., , . [ ] _op. cit_. ii. _sq_., iii. , , iv. . p. . [ ] _op. cit_. ii. . [ ] _op. cit._ iv. i. p. . we have seen (p. ) that in the sixteenth century these customs and beliefs were common in germany. it is also a german superstition that a house which contains a brand from the midsummer bonfire will not be struck by lightning (j.w. wolf, _beiträge, zur deutschen mythologie_, i. p. , § ). [ ] j. boemus, _mores, leges et ritus omnium gentium_ (lyons, ), p. . [ ] karl freiherr von leoprechting, _aus dem lechrain_ (munich, ), pp. _sqq._; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] a. birlinger, _volksthümliches aus schwaben_ (freiburg im breisgau, - ), ii. pp. _sqq._, § , pp. _sq._, § ; _id., aus schwaben_ (wiesbaden, ), ii. - ; e. meier, _deutsche sagen, sitten und gebräuche aus schwaben_ (stuttgart, ), pp. _sqq._; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_ (munich, - ), i. pp. _sq._, § ; _id._, ii. . [ ] a. birlinger, _volksthümliches aus schwaben_ (freiburg im breisgau, - ), ii. - . [ ] elard hugo mayer, _badisches volksleben_ (strasburg, ), pp. _sq._, _sq._ [ ] w. von schulenberg, in _verhandlungen der berliner gesellschaft für anthropologie, ethnologie und urgeschichte, jahrgang _, pp. _sq._ (bound up with _zeitschrift für ethnologie_, xxix. ). [ ] h. gaidoz, "le dieu gaulois du soleil et le symbolisme de la roue," _revue archéologique_, iii. série, iv. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] bruno stehle, "volksglauben, sitten und gebräuche in lothringen," _globus_, lix. ( ) pp. _sq._; "die sommerwendfeier im st. amarinthale," _der urquell_, n.f., i. ( ) pp. _sqq._ [ ] j.h. schmitz, _sitten und sagen lieder, sprüchwörter und räthsel des eifler volkes_ (treves, - ), i. _sq._ according to one writer, the garlands are composed of st. john's wort (montanus, _die deutschen volksfeste, volksbräuche und deutscher volksglaube_, iserlohn, n.d., p. ). as to the use of st. john's wort at midsummer, see below, vol. ii. pp. _sqq._ [ ] a. kuhn und w. schwartz, _norddeutsche sagen, märchen und gebräuche_ (leipsic, ), p. . [ ] montanus, _die deutschen volksfeste, volksbräuche und deutscher volksglaube_ (iserlohn, n.d.), pp. _sq._ [ ] c.l. rochholz, _deutscher glaube und brauch_ (berlin, ), ii. _sqq._ [ ] philo vom walde, _schlesien in sage und brauch_ (berlin, n.d.), p. ; paul drechsler, _sitte, brauch, und volksglaube in schlesien_ (leipsic, - ), i. _sq._ [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie,_*[ ] i. _sq._ [ ] from information supplied by mr. sigurd k. heiberg, engineer, of bergen, norway, who in his boyhood regularly collected fuel for the fires. i have to thank miss anderson, of barskimming, mauchline, ayrshire, for kindly procuring the information for me from mr. heiberg. the blocksberg, where german as well as norwegian witches gather for their great sabbaths on the eve of may day (walpurgis night) and midsummer eve, is commonly identified with the brocken, the highest peak of the harz mountains. but in mecklenburg, pomerania, and probably elsewhere, villages have their own local blocksberg, which is generally a hill or open place in the neighbourhood; a number of places in pomerania go by the name of the blocksberg. see j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_*[ ] ii. _sq._; ulrich jahn, _hexenwesen und zauberei in pommern_ (breslau, ), pp. _sq._; _id._, _volkssagen aus pommern und rügen_ (stettin, ), p. . [ ] l. lloyd, _peasant life in sweden_ (london, ), pp. , . [ ] l. lloyd, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ these springs are called "sacrificial fonts" (_offer källor_) and are "so named because in heathen times the limbs of the slaughtered victim, whether man or beast, were here washed prior to immolation" (l. lloyd, _op. cit._ p. ). [ ] e. hoffmann-krayer, _feste und bräuche des schweizervolkes_ (zurich, ), p. . [ ] ignaz v. zingerle, _sitten, bräuche und meinungen des tiroler volkes_*[ ] (innsbruck, ), ii. p. , § . [ ] i.v. zingerle, _op. cit._ p. , §§ , , ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . [ ] w. mannhardt, _l.c._ [ ] f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_ (munich, - ), i. p. , § . [ ] theodor vernaleken, _mythen und bräuche des volkes in oesterreich_ (vienna, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_*[ ] i. ; theodor vernaleken, _mythen und bräuche des volkes in oesterreich_ (vienna, ), p. ; joseph virgil grohmann, _aberglauben und gebräuche aus bohmen und mähren_ (prague and leipsic, ), p. , § ; reinsberg-düringsfeld, _fest-kalender aus bohmen_ (prague, n.d.), pp. - ; br. jelfnek, "materialien zur vorgeschichte und volkskunde böhmens," _mittheilungen der anthropologischen gesellschaft in wien>_ xxi. ( ) p. ; alois john, _sitte, brauch und volksglaube im deutschen westböhmen_ (prague, ) pp. - . [ ] willibald müller, _beiträge zur volkskunde der deutschen in mähren_ (vienna and olmutz, ), pp. - . [ ] anton peter, _volksthümliches aus Österreichisch-schlesien_ (troppau, - ), ii. . [ ] th. vernaleken, _mythen und bräuche des volkes in oesterreich_ (vienna, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] _the dying god_, p. . compare m. kowalewsky, in _folk-lore_, i. ( ) p. . [ ] w.r.s. ralston, _songs of the russian people_, second edition (london, ), p. . [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. ; w.r.s. ralston, _songs of the russian people_ (london, ), pp. , . [ ] w.r.s. ralston, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] w.r.s. ralston, _l.c._ [ ] w.j.a. von tettau und j.d.h. temme, _die volkssagen ostpreussens, litthauens und westpreussens_ (berlin, ), p. . [ ] m. töppen, _aberglauben aus masuren_*[ ] (danzig, ), p. . [ ] f.s. krauss, "altslavische feuergewinnung," _globus_, lix. ( ) p. . [ ] j.g. kohl, _die deutsch-russischen ostseeprovinzen_ (dresden and leipsic, ), i. - , ii. _sq._ ligho was an old heathen deity, whose joyous festival used to fall in spring. [ ] ovid, _fasti_, vi. _sqq._ [ ] friederich s. krauss, _sitte und brauch der südslaven_ (vienna, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. . [ ] h. von wlislocki, _volksglaube und religiöser brauch der magyar_ (münster i. w., ), pp. - . [ ] a. von ipolyi, "beiträge zur deutschen mythologie aus ungarn," _zeitschrift für deutsche mythologie und sittenkunde_, i. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] j.g. kohl, _die deutsch-russischen ostseeprovinzen_, ii. _sq._; f.j. wiedemann, _aus dem inneren und äusseren leben der ehsten_ (st. petersburg, ), p. . the word which i have translated "weeds" is in esthonian _kaste-heinad_, in german _thaugras_. apparently it is the name of a special kind of weed. [ ] fr. kreutzwald und h. neus, _mythische und magische lieder der ehsten_ (st. petersburg, ), p. . [ ] j.b. holzmayer, "osiliana," _verhandlungen der gelehrten estnischen gesellschaft zu dorpat_, vii. ( ) pp. _sq._ wiedemann also observes that the sports in which young couples engage in the woods on this evening are not always decorous (_aus dem inneren und äusseren leben der ehsten_, p. ). [ ] j.g. kohl, _die deutsch-russischen ostseeprovinzen_, ii. _sq._ [ ] j.g. georgi, _beschreibung aller nationen des russischen reichs_ (st. petersburg, ), p. ; august freiherr von haxthausen, _studien über die innere zustände das volksleben und insbesondere die ländlichen einrichtungen russlands_ (hanover, ), i. _sqq._ [ ] alfred de nore, _coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de france_ (paris and lyons, ), p. . [ ] it is notable that st. john is the only saint whose birthday the church celebrates with honours like those which she accords to the nativity of christ. compare edmond doutté, _magie et religion dans l'afrique du nord_ (algiers, ), p. note i. [ ] bossuet, _oeuvres_ (versailles, - ), vi. ("catéchisme du diocèse de meaux"). his description of the superstitions is, in his own words, as follows: "_danser à l'entour du feu, jouer, faire des festins, chanter des chansons deshonnètes, jeter des herbes par-dessus le feu, en cueillir avant midi ou à jeun, en porter sur soi, les conserver le long de l'année, garder des tisons ou des charbons du feu, et autres semblables._" this and other evidence of the custom of kindling midsummer bonfires in france is cited by ch. cuissard in his tract _les feux de la saint-jean_ (orleans, ). [ ] ch. cuissard, _les feux de la saint-jean_ (orleans, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] a. le braz, _la légende de la mort en basse-bretagne_ (paris, ), p. . for an explanation of the custom of throwing a pebble into the fire, see below, p. . [ ] m. quellien, quoted by alexandre bertrand, _la religion des gaulois_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] collin de plancy, _dictionnaire infernal_ (paris, - ), iii. ; j.w. wolf, _beiträge zur deutschen mythologie_ (göttingen, - ), i. p. , § ; a. breuil, "du culte de st. jean baptiste," _mémoires de la société des antiquaires de picardie_, viii. (amiens, ) pp. _sq._ [ ] eugene cortet, _essai sur les fêtes religieuses_ (paris, ), p. ; ch. cuissard, _les feux de la saint-jean_ (orleans, ), p. . [ ] paul sébillot, _coutumes populaires de la haute-bretagne_ (paris, ), pp. - . in upper brittany these bonfires are called _rieux_ or _raviers_. [ ] a. de nore, _coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de france_ (paris and lyons, ), p. ; e. cortet, _essai sur les fétes religieuses_, p. . [ ] a. de nore, _coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de france_, pp. , , ; e. cortet, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] j. lecoeur, _esquisses du bocage normand_ (condé-sur-noireau, - ), ii. - . [ ] this description is quoted by madame clément (_histoire des fêtes civites et religieuses_, etc., _de la belgique méridionale_, avesnes, , pp. - ); f. liebrecht (_des gervasius von tilbury otia imperialia_, hanover, , pp. _sq._); and w. mannhardt (_antike wald und feldkulte_, berlin, , pp. _sqq._) from the _magazin pittoresque_, paris, viii. ( ) pp. _sqq._ a slightly condensed account is given, from the same source, by e. cortet (_essai sur les fêtes religieuses_, pp. _sq._). [ ] bazin, quoted by breuil, in _mémoires de la société d' antiquaires de picardie_, viii. ( ) p. note. [ ] correspondents quoted by a. bertrand, _la religion des gaulois_ (paris, ), pp. , . [ ] correspondent quoted by a. bertrand, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] felix chapiseau, _le folk-lore de la beauce et du perche_ (paris, ), i. - . in perche the midsummer bonfires were called _marolles_. as to the custom formerly observed at bullou, near chateaudun, see a correspondent quoted by a. bertrand, _la religion des gaulois_ (paris, ), p. . [ ] albert meyrac, _traditions, coutumes, légendes, et contes des ardennes_ (charleville, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] l.f. sauvé, _le folk-lore des hautes-vosges_ (paris, ), p. . [ ] désiré monnier, _traditions populaires comparées_ (paris, ), pp. _sqq._; e. cortet, _essai sur les fêtes religieuses_, pp. _sq._ [ ] bérenger-féraud, _réminiscences populaires de la provence_ (paris, ), p. . [ ] charles beauquier, _les mois en franche-comté_ (paris, ), p. . the names of the bonfires vary with the place; among them are _failles, bourdifailles, bâs_ or _baux, feulères_ or _folières_, and _chavannes_. [ ] _la bresse louhannaise_, juin, , p. . [ ] laisnel de la salle, _croyances et légendes du centre de la france_ (paris, ), i. _sqq._ the writer adopts the absurd derivation of _jônée_ from janus. needless to say that our old friend baal, bel, or belus figures prominently in this and many other accounts of the european fire-festivals. [ ] a. de nore, _coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de france_ (paris and lyons, ), p. . [ ] correspondent, quoted by a. bertrand, _la religion des gaulois_ (paris, ), p. . [ ] guerry, "sur les usages et traditions du poitou," _mémoires et dissertations publiés par la société royale des antiquaires de france_, viii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] breuil, in _mémoires de la société des antiquaires de picardie_, viii. ( ) p. ; e. cortet, _essai sur les fêtes religieuses_, p. ; laisnel de la salle, _croyances et légendes du centre de la france_, i. ; j. lecoeur, _esquisses du bocage normand_, ii. . [ ] h. gaidoz, "le dieu gaulois du soleil et le symbolisme de la roue," _revue archéologique_, iii. série, iv. ( ) p. , note . [ ] l. pineau, _le folk-lore du poitou_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ in périgord the ashes of the midsummer bonfire are searched for the hair of the virgin (e. cortet, _essai sur les fêtes religieuses_, p. ). [ ] a. de nore, _coutumes mythes et traditions des provinces de france_, pp. _sq._; e. cortet, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] dupin, "notice sur quelques fêtes et divertissemens populaires du département des deux-sèvres," _mémoires et dissertations publiés par la société royale des antiquaires de france_, iv. ( ) p. . [ ] j.l.m. noguès, _les moeurs d'autrefois en saintonge et en aunis_ (saintes, ), pp. , _sq._ [ ] h. gaidoz, "le dieu soleil et le symbolisme de la roue," _revue archéologique_, iii. série, iv. ( ) p. . [ ] ch. cuissard, _les feux de la saint-jean_ (orleans, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] a. de nore, _coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de france_ p. . [ ] aubin-louis millin, _voyage dans les départemens du midi de la france_ (paris, - ), iii. _sq._ [ ] aubin-louis millin, _op. cit._ iii. . [ ] a. de nore, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._; bérenger-féraud, _reminiscences populaires de la provence_ (paris, ), pp. - . as to the custom at toulon, see poncy, quoted by breuil, _mémoires de la société des antiquaires de picardie_, viii. ( ) p. note. the custom of drenching people on this occasion with water used to prevail in toulon, as well as in marseilles and other towns in the south of france. the water was squirted from syringes, poured on the heads of passers-by from windows, and so on. see breuil, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] a. de nore, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._; e. cortet, _op. cit._ pp. , _sq._ [ ] le baron de reinsberg-düringsfeld, _calendrier belge_ (brussels, - ), i. _sq._ . [ ] le baron de reinsberg-düringsfeld, _op. cit._ i. - . [ ] madame clément, _histoire des fêtes civiles et religieuses_, etc., _du département du nord_ (cambrai, ), p. ; j.w. wolf, _beiträge zur deutschen mythologie_ (göttingen, - ), ii. ; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_. p. . [ ] e. monseur, _folklore wallon_ (brussels, n.d.), p. , §§ , , . [ ] joseph strutt, _the sports and pastimes of the people of england_, new edition, by w. hone (london, ), p. . [ ] john stow, _a survay of london_, edited by henry morley (london, n.d.), pp. _sq._ stow's _survay_ was written in . [ ] john brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. ; t.f. thiselton dyer, _british popular customs_ (london, ), p. . both writers refer to _status scholae etonensis_ (a.d. ). [ ] john aubrey, _remaines of gentilisme and judaisme_ (london, ), p. . [ ] j. brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. _sq._, , compare pp. , , _sq._; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus_, p. . compare w. hutchinson, _view of northumberland_, vol. ii. (newcastle, ), appendix, p. ( ), under the head "midsummer":--"it is usual to raise fires on the tops of high hills and in the villages, and sport and danse around them; this is of very remote antiquity, and the first cause lost in the distance of time." [ ] dr. lyttelton, bishop of carlisle, quoted by william borlase, _antiquities, historical and monumental, of the county of cornwall_ (london, ), p. note. [ ] _county folk-lore_, vol. iv. _northumberland_, collected by m.c. balfour (london, ), p. , quoting e. mackenzie, _an historical, topographical, and descriptive view of the county of northumberland_, second edition (newcastle, ), i. . [ ] _county folk-lore_, vol. iv. _northumberland_, collected by m.c. balfour, p. . [ ] _county folk-lore_, vol. iv. _northumberland_, collected by m.c. balfour, p. . [ ] _the denham tracts_, edited by j. hardy (london, - ), ii. _sq._, quoting _archælogia aeliana_, n.s., vii. , and the _proceedings_ of the berwickshire naturalists' club, vi. _sq._; _county folk-lore_, vol. iv. _northumberland_, collected by m.c. balfour (london, ), pp. _sq._ whalton is a village of northumberland, not far from morpeth. [ ] _county folk-lore_, vol. vi. _east riding of yorkshire_, collected and edited by mrs. gutch (london, ), p. . [ ] john aubrey, _remaines of gentilisme and judaisme_ (london, ), p. , compare _id._, p. . [ ] j. brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. . [ ] william borlase, ll.d., _antiquities, historical and monumental, of the county of cornwall_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ the eve of st. peter is june th. bonfires have been lit elsewhere on the eve or the day of st. peter. see above, pp. _sq._ _sq._, and below, pp. _sq._, , . [ ] j. brand, _op. cit._ i. , ; t.f. thiselton dyer, _british popular customs_ (london, ), p. . [ ] william bottrell, _traditions and hearthside stories of west cornwall_ (penzance, ), pp. _sq._, _sq._; james napier, _folk-lore, or superstitious beliefs in the west of scotland_ (paisley, ), p. . [ ] richard edmonds, _the land's end district_ (london, ), pp. _sq._; robert hunt, _popular romances of the west of england_, third edition (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ compare jonathan ceredig davies, _folk-lore of west and mid-wales_ (aberystwyth, ), p. . [ ] j. brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. . [ ] joseph train, _account of the isle of man_ (douglas, isle of man, ), ii. . [ ] sir henry piers, _description of the county of westmeath_, written in , published by (general) charles vallancey, _collectanea de rebus hibernieis_, i. (dublin, ) pp. _sq._ [ ] j. brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. , quoting the author of the _survey of the south of ireland_, p. . [ ] j. brand, _op. cit._ i. , quoting the author of the _comical pilgrim's pilgrimage into ireland_ ( ), p. . [ ] _the gentleman's magazine_, vol. lxv. (london, ) pp. _sq._ the writer dates the festival on june st, which is probably a mistake. [ ] t.f. thiselton dyer, _british popular customs_ (london, ), pp. _sq._, quoting the _liverpool mercury_ of june th, . [ ] l.l. duncan, "further notes from county leitrim," _folk-lore_, v. ( ) p. . [ ] a.c. haddon, "a batch of irish folk-lore," _folk-lore_, iv. ( ) pp. , . [ ] g.h. kinahan, "notes on irish folk-lore," _folk-lore record_, iv. ( ) p. . [ ] charlotte elizabeth, _personal recollections_, quoted by rev. alexander hislop, _the two babylons_ (edinburgh, ), p. . [ ] lady wilde, _ancient legends, mystic charms, and superstitions of ireland_ (london, ), i. _sq._ [ ] t.f. thiselton dyer, _british popular customs_ (london, ), pp. _sq._, quoting the _hibernian magazine_, july . as to the worship of wells in ancient ireland, see p.w. joyce, _a social history of ancient ireland_ (london, ), i. _sq._, _sqq._ [ ] rev. a. johnstone, describing the parish of monquhitter in perthshire, in sir john sinclair's _statistical account of scotland_ (edinburgh, - ), xxi. . mr. w. warde fowler writes that in scotland "before the bonfires were kindled on midsummer eve, the houses were decorated with foliage brought from the woods" (_roman festivals of the period of the republic_, london, , pp. _sq._). for his authority he refers to _chambers' journal_, july, . [ ] john ramsay, of ochtertyre, _scotland and scotsmen in the eighteenth century_, edited by a. allardyce (edinburgh, ), ii. . [ ] rev. mr. shaw, minister of elgin, in pennant's "tour in scotland," printed in john pinkerton's _voyages and travels_ (london, - ), iii. . [ ] a. macdonald, "midsummer bonfires," _folk-lore_, xv. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] from notes kindly furnished to me by the rev. j.c. higgins, parish minister of tarbolton. mr. higgins adds that he knows of no superstition connected with the fire, and no tradition of its origin. i visited the scene of the bonfire in , but, as pausanias says (viii. . ) in similar circumstances, "i did not happen to arrive at the season of the festival." indeed the snow was falling thick as i trudged to the village through the beautiful woods of "the castle o' montgomery" immortalized by burns. from a notice in _the scotsman_ of th june, (p. ) it appears that the old custom was observed as usual that year. [ ] thomas moresinus, _papatus seu depravatae religionis origo et incrementum_ (edinburgh, ), p. . [ ] rev. dr. george lawrie, in sir john sinclair's _statistical account of scotland_, iii. (edinburgh, ) p. . [ ] letter from dr. otero acevado of madrid, published in _le temps_, september . an extract from the newspaper was sent me, but without mention of the day of the month when it appeared. the fires on st. john's eve in spain are mentioned also by j. brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_, i. . jacob grimm inferred the custom from a passage in a romance (_deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. ). the custom of washing or bathing on the morning of st. john's day is mentioned by the spanish historian diego duran, _historia de las indias de nueva españa_, edited by j.f. ramirez (mexico, - ), vol. ii. p. . to roll in the dew on the morning of st. john's day is a cure for diseases of the skin in normandy, périgord, and the abruzzi, as well as in spain. see j. lecoeur, _esquisses du bocage normand_, ii. ; a. de nore, _coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de france_, p. ; gennaro finamore, _credenze, usi e costumi abruzzesi_ (palermo, ), p. . [ ] m. longworth dames and mrs. e. seemann, "folklore of the azores," _folk-lore_, xiv. ( ) pp. _sq._; theophilo braga, _o povo portuguez nos seus costumes, crenças e tradiçoes_ (lisbon, ), ii. _sq._, _sq._ [ ] see below, pp. _sqq._ [ ] angelo de gubernatis, _mythologie des plantes_ (paris, - ), i. note . [ ] _adonis, attis, osiris_, second edition, pp. _sq._ [ ] g. finamore, _credenze, usi e costumi abruzzesi_ (palermo, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] g. finamore, _credenze, usi e costumi abruzzesi_, pp. - . we may compare the provençal and spanish customs of bathing and splashing water at midsummer. see above, pp. _sq._, . [ ] giuseppe pitrè, _spettacoli e feste popolari siciliane_ (palermo, ), pp. , _sq._; _id., usi e costumi, credenze e pregiudizi del popolo siciliano_ (palermo, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. . [ ] v. busuttil, _holiday customs in malta, and sports, usages, ceremonies, omens, and superstitions of the maltese people_ (malta, ), pp. _sqq._ the extract was kindly sent to me by mr. h.w. underwood (letter dated th november, , birbeck bank chambers, southampton buildings, chancery lane, w.c.). see _folk-lore_, xiv. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] w. r. paton, in _folk-lore_, ii. ( ) p. . the custom was reported to me when i was in greece in (_folk-lore_, i. ( ) p. ). [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. . [ ] g. georgeakis et l. pineau, _le folk-lore de lesbos_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] w.r. paton, in _folk-lore_, vi. ( ) p. . from the stones cast into the fire omens may perhaps be drawn, as in scotland, wales, and probably brittany. see above, p. , and below, pp. _sq._, , . [ ] w.h.d. rouse, "folklore from the southern sporades," _folk-lore_, x. ( ) p. . [ ] lucy m.j. garnett, _the women of turkey and their folk-lore, the christian women_ (london, ), p. ; g.f. abbott, _macedonian folklore_ (cambridge, ), p. . [ ] j.g. von hahn, _albanesische studien_ (jena, ), i. . [ ] k. von den steinen, _unter den natur-völkern zentral-brasiliens_ (berlin, ), p. . [ ] alcide d'orbigny, _voyage dans l'amérique méridionale_, ii. (paris and strasbourg, - ), p. ; d. forbes, "on the aymara indians of bolivia and peru," _journal of the ethnological society of london_, ii. ( ) p. . [ ] edmond doutté, _magie et religion dans l'afrique du nord_ (algiers, ), pp. _sq_. for an older but briefer notice of the midsummer fires in north africa, see giuseppe ferraro, _superstizioni, usi e proverbi monferrini_ (palermo, ), pp. _sq._: "also in algeria, among the mussalmans, and in morocco, as alvise da cadamosto reports in his _relazione dei viaggi d'africa_, which may be read in ramusio, people used to hold great festivities on st. john's night; they kindled everywhere huge fires of straw (the _palilia_ of the romans), in which they threw incense and perfumes the whole night long in order to invoke the divine blessing on the fruit-trees." see also budgett meakin, _the moors_ (london, ), p. : "the berber festivals are mainly those of islam, though a few traces of their predecessors are observable. of these the most noteworthy is midsummer or st. john's day, still celebrated in a special manner, and styled _el ansarah_. in the rîf it is celebrated by the lighting of bonfires only, but in other parts there is a special dish prepared of wheat, raisins, etc., resembling the frumenty consumed at the new year. it is worthy of remark that the old style gregorian calendar is maintained among them, with corruptions of latin names." [ ] edward westermarck, "midsummer customs in morocco," _folklore_, xvi. ( ) pp. - ; _id., ceremonies and beliefs connected with agriculture, certain dates of the solar year, and the weather_ (helsingfors, ), pp. - . [ ] e. westermarck, "midsummer customs in morocco," _folk-lore_, xvi. ( ) pp. _sq._; _id., ceremonies and beliefs connected with agriculture_, etc., pp. _sq._ [ ] edmond doutté, _magie et religion dans l'afrique du nord_ (algiers, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] e. westermarck, "midsummer customs in morocco," _folk-lore_, xvi. ( ) pp. _sq._; _id., ceremonies and beliefs connected with agriculture_, etc., pp. - . [ ] see k. vollers, in dr. james hastings's _encyclopaedia of religion and ethics_ iii. (edinburgh, ) _s.v._ "calendar (muslim)," pp. _sq._ however, l. ideler held that even before the time of mohammed the arab year was lunar and vague, and that intercalation was only employed in order to fix the pilgrimage month in autumn, which, on account of the milder weather and the abundance of food, is the best time for pilgrims to go to mecca. see l. ideler, _handbuch der mathematischen und techischen chronologie_ (berlin, - ), ii. _sqq._ [ ] e. doutté, _magie et religion dans l'afrique du nord_, pp. , , , , . it is somewhat remarkable that the tenth, not the first, day of the first month should be reckoned new year's day. [ ] e. westermarck, "midsummer customs in morocco," _folk-lore_, xvi. ( ) pp. - . [ ] e. doutté, _magie et religion dans l'afrique du nord_ (algiers, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] e. westermarck, "midsummer customs in morocco," _folk-lore_, xvi. ( ) p. ; _id., ceremonies and beliefs connected with agriculture, certain dates of the solar year, and the weather in morocco_ (helsingfors, ), p. . [ ] e. westermarck, "midsummer customs in morocco," _folk-lore_, xvi. ( ), pp. _sq._, _sq.; id., ceremonies and beliefs connected with agriculture_, etc., _in morocco_, pp. _sqq._ [ ] g. f. abbott, _macedonian folklore_ (cambridge, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] "narrative of the adventures of four russian sailors, who were cast in a storm upon the uncultivated island of east spitzbergen," translated from the german of p.l. le roy, in john pinkerton's _voyages and travels_ (london, - ), i. . this passage is quoted from the original by (sir) edward b. tylor, _researches into the early history of mankind_, third edition (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] see _the scapegoat_, pp. _sq._ [ ] e.k. chambers, _the mediaeval stage_ (oxford, ), i. _sqq._ [ ] in eastern europe to this day the great season for driving out the cattle to pasture for the first time in spring is st. george's day, the twenty-third of april, which is not far removed from may day. see _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, ii. _sqq._ as to the bisection of the celtic year, see the old authority quoted by p.w. joyce, _the social history of ancient ireland_ (london, ), ii. : "the whole year was [originally] divided into two parts--summer from st may to st november, and winter from st november to st may." on this subject compare (sir) john rhys, _celtic heathendom_ (london and edinburgh, ), pp. , _sqq.; id., celtic folk-lore, welsh and manx_ (oxford, ), i. _sqq._; j.a. macculloch, in dr. james hastings's _encyclopaedia of religion and ethics_, iii. (edinburgh, ) p. . [ ] see below, p. . [ ] above, pp. _sqq._; _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, ii. _sqq._ [ ] (sir) john rhys, _celtic folk-lore, manx and welsh_ (oxford, ), i. , _sq._; j.a. macculloch, in dr. james hastings's _encyclopaedia of religion and ethics_, iii. (edinburgh, ) _s.v._ "calendar," p. , referring to kelly, _english and manx dictionary_ (douglas, ), _s.v._ "blein." hogmanay is the popular scotch name for the last day of the year. see dr. j. jamieson, _etymological dictionary of the scottish language_, new edition (paisley, - ), ii. _sq._ [ ] (sir) john rhys, _celtic folk-lore, welsh and manx_, i. _sq._ [ ] above, p. . [ ] see _adonis, attis, osiris_, second edition, pp. - . as i have there pointed out, the catholic church succeeded in altering the date of the festival by one day, but not in changing the character of the festival. all souls' day is now the second instead of the first of november. but we can hardly doubt that the saints, who have taken possession of the first of november, wrested it from the souls of the dead, the original proprietors. after all, the saints are only one particular class of the souls of the dead; so that the change which the church effected, no doubt for the purpose of disguising the heathen character of the festival, is less great than appears at first sight. [ ] in wales "it was firmly believed in former times that on all hallows' eve the spirit of a departed person was to be seen at midnight on every cross-road and on every stile" (marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_, london, , p. ). [ ] e. j. guthrie, _old scottish customs_ (london and glasgow, ), p. . [ ] a. goodrich-freer, "more folklore from the hebrides," _folk-lore_, xiii. ( ) p. . [ ] (sir) jolin rhys, _celtic heathendom_ (london and edinburgh, ), p. . [ ] p.w. joyce, _a social history of ancient ireland_ (london, ), i. _sq._, ii. . [ ] (sir) john rhys, _celtic heathendom_, p. . [ ] rev. john gregorson campbell, _superstitions of the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] ch. rogers, _social life in scotland_ (edinburgh, - ), iii. - . [ ] douglas hyde, _beside the fire, a collection of irish gaelic folk stories_ (london, ), pp. , , - . [ ] p.w. joyce, _social history of ancient ireland_, i. . [ ] marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), p. . [ ] (sir) john rhys, _celtic heathendom_, pp. _sq._ in order to see the apparitions all you had to do was to run thrice round the parish church and then peep through the key-hole of the door. see marie trevelyan, _op. cit._ p. ; j. c. davies, _folk-lore of west and mid-wales_ (aberystwyth, ), p. . [ ] miss e. j. guthrie, _old scottish customs_ (london and glasgow, ), p. . [ ] rev. john gregorson campbell, _witchcraft and second sight in the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), p. . [ ] thomas pennant, "tour in scotland, and voyage to the hebrides in ," in john pinkerton's _voyages and travels_, iii. (london, ) pp. _sq._ in quoting the passage i have corrected what seem to be two misprints. [ ] john ramsay, of ochtertyre, _scotland and scotsmen in the eighteenth century_, edited by alexander allardyce (edinburgh and london, ), ii. _sq._ this account was written in the eighteenth century. [ ] rev. james robertson, parish minister of callander, in sir john sinclair's _statistical account of scotland_, xi. (edinburgh, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] rev. dr. thomas bisset, in sir john sinclair's _statistical account of scotland_ v. (edinburgh, ) pp. _sq._ [ ] miss e. j. guthrie, _old scottish customs_ (london and glasgow, ), p. . [ ] james napier, _folk lore, or superstitious beliefs in the west of scotland within this century_ (paisley, ), p. . [ ] j. g. frazer, "folk-lore at balquhidder," _the folk-lore journal_, vi. ( ) p. . [ ] rev. walter gregor, _notes on the folk-lore of the north-east of scotland_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] rev. a. johnstone, as to the parish of monquhitter, in sir john sinclair's _statistical account of scotland_, xxi. (edinburgh, ) pp. _sq._ [ ] a. macdonald, "some former customs of the royal parish of crathie, scotland," _folk-lore_, xviii. ( ) p. . the writer adds: "in this way the 'faulds' were purged of evil spirits." but it does not appear whether this expresses the belief of the people or only the interpretation of the writer. [ ] rev. john gregorson campbell, _witchcraft and second sight in the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] robert burns, _hallowe'en_, with the poet's note; rev. walter gregor, _op. cit._ p. ; miss e.j. guthrie, _op. cit._ p. ; rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] r. burns, _l.c._; rev. walter gregor, _l.c._; miss e.j. guthrie, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._; rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] r. burns, _l.c._.; rev. w. gregor, _l.c._; miss e.j. guthrie, _op. cit._ p. ; rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. ; a. goodrich-freer, "more folklore from the hebrides," _folk-lore_, xiii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] r. burns, _l.c._; rev. w. gregor, _op. cit._ p. ; miss e.j. guthrie, _op. cit._ p. ; rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. . according to the last of these writers, the winnowing had to be done in the devil's name. [ ] r. burns, _l.c._; rev. w. gregor, _l.c._; miss e.j. guthrie, _op. cit._ p. ; rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. ; a. goodrich-freer, "more folklore from the hebrides," _folklore_, xiii. ( ) p. . [ ] rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._; a. goodrich-freer, _l.c._ [ ] rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] r. burns, _l.c._; rev. w. gregor, _op. cit._ p. ; miss e.j. guthrie, _op. cit._ p. ; rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. . where nuts were not to be had, peas were substituted. [ ] rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] rev. j.g. campbell, _l.c._ according to my recollection of hallowe'en customs observed in my boyhood at helensburgh, in dumbartonshire, another way was to stir the floating apples and then drop a fork on them as they bobbed about in the water. success consisted in pinning one of the apples with the fork. [ ] r. burns, _l.c._; rev. w. gregor, _op. cit_. pp. _sq_.; miss e.j. guthrie, _op. cit_. pp. _sq_.; rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit_. p. . [ ] r. burns, _l.c._; rev. w. gregor, _op. cit_. p. ; miss e.j. guthrie, _op. cit_. pp. _sq_.; rev. j.g. campbell, _op. cit_. p. . it is the last of these writers who gives what may be called the trinitarian form of the divination. [ ] miss e.j. guthrie, _old scottish customs_ (london and glasgow, ), pp. _sq_. [ ] a. goodrich-freer, "more folklore from the hebrides," _folk-lore_, xiii. ( ) p. . [ ] pennant's manuscript, quoted by j. brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. _sq_. [ ] sir richard colt hoare, _the itinerary of archbishop baldwin through wales a.d. mclxxxviii. by giraldus de barri_ (london, ), ii. ; j. brand, _popular antiquities_, i. . the passage quoted in the text occurs in one of hoare's notes on the itinerary. the dipping for apples, burning of nuts, and so forth, are mentioned also by marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), pp. , . [ ] (sir) john rhys, _celtic heathendom_ (london and edinburgh, ), pp. _sq._ as to the hallowe'en bonfires in wales compare j.c. davies, _folk-lore of west and mid-wales_ (aberystwyth, ), p. . [ ] see above, p. . [ ] see above, p. . [ ] marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] (general) charles vallancey, _collectanea de rebus hibernicis_, iii. (dublin, ), pp. - . [ ] miss a. watson, quoted by a.c. haddon, "a batch of irish folk-lore," _folk-lore_, iv. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] leland l. duncan, "further notes from county leitrim," _folk-lore_, v. ( ) pp. - . [ ] h.j. byrne, "all hallows eve and other festivals in connaught," _folk-lore_, xviii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] joseph train, _historical and statistical account of the isle of man_ (douglas, isle of man, ), ii. ; (sir) john rhys, _celtic folk-lore, welsh and manx_ (oxford, ), i. _sqq._ [ ] (sir) john rhys, _celtic folk-lore, welsh and manx_ (oxford, ), i. - . [ ] john harland and t.t. wilkinson, _lancashire folk-lore_ (manchester and london, ), pp. _sq_. [ ] j. harland and t.t. wilkinson, _op. cit_. p. . [ ] annie milner, in william hone's _year book_ (london, preface dated january, ), coll. - (letter dated june, ); r.t. hampson, _medii aevi kalendarium_ (london, ), i. ; t.f. thiselton dyer, _british popular customs_ (london, ), p. . [ ] _county folk-lore_ vol. iv. _northumberland_, collected by m.c. balfour (london, ), p. . compare w. henderson, _notes on the folk-lore of the northern counties of england_ (london, ), pp. _sq_. [ ] baron dupin, in _mémoires publiées par la société royale des antiquaires de france_, iv. ( ) p. . [ ] the evidence for the solar origin of christmas is given in _adonis, attis, osiris_, second edition, pp. - . [ ] for the various names (yu-batch, yu-block, yule-log, etc.) see francis grose, _provincial glossary_, new edition (london, ), p. ; joseph wright, _the english dialect dictionary_ (london, - ), vi. , _s.v._ "yule." [ ] "i am pretty confident that the yule block will be found, in its first use, to have been only a counterpart of the midsummer fires, made within doors because of the cold weather at this winter solstice, as those in the hot season, at the summer one, are kindled in the open air." (john brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_, london, - , i. ). his opinion is approved by w. mannhardt _(der baumkultus der germanen und ihrer nachbarstämme_, p. ). [ ] "_et arborem in nativitate domini ad festivum ignem suum adducendam esse dicebat_" (quoted by jacob grimm, _deutsche mythologie_, i. ). [ ] montanus, _die deutschen volksfeste, volksbrauche und deutscher volksglaube_ (iserlohn, n.d.), p. . the sieg and lahn are two rivers of central germany, between siegen and marburg. [ ] j.h. schmitz, _sitten und sagen, lieder, sprüchwörter und räthsel des eifler volkes_ (treves, - ), i. . [ ] adalbert kuhn, _sagen, gebräuche und märchen aus westfalen_ (leipsic, ), ii. § , pp. _sq_. [ ] a. kuhn, _op. cit._ ii. § , p. . [ ] august witzschel, _sagen, sitten und gebräuche aus thüringen_ (vienna, ), p. . [ ] k. hoffmann-krayer, _feste und bräuche des schweizervolkes_ (zurich, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] le baron de reinsberg-düringsfeld, _calendrier belge_ (brussels, - ), ii. _sq._ compare j.w. wolf, _beiträgezur deutschen mythologie_ (göttingen, - ), i. . [ ] j.b. thiers, _traité des superstitions_*[ ] (paris, ), i. _sq._; eugène cortet, _essai sur les fêtes religieuses_ (paris, ), pp. _ sq._ [ ] j.b. thiers, _traité des superstitions_ (paris, ), p. . [ ] aubin-louis millin, _voyage dans les départemens du midi de la france_ (paris, - ), iii. _sq._ the fire so kindled was called _caco fuech_. [ ] alfred de nore, _coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de france_ (paris and lyons, ), pp. _sq._ the three festivals during which the yule log is expected to burn are probably christmas day (december th), st. stephen's day (december th), and st. john the evangelist's day (december th). compare j.l.m. noguès, _les moeurs d'autrefois en saintonge et en aunis_ (saintes, ), pp. - . according to the latter writer, in saintonge it was the mistress of the house who blessed the yule log, sprinkling salt and holy water on it; in poitou it was the eldest male who officiated. the log was called the _cosse de nô_. [ ] laisnel de salle, _croyances et légendes du centres de la france_ (paris, ), i. - . [ ] jules lecoeur, _esquisses du bocage normand_ (condé-sur-noireau, - ), ii. . the author speaks of the custom as still practised in out-of-the-way villages at the time when he wrote. the usage of preserving the remains of the yule-log (called _tréfouet_) in normandy is mentioned also by m'elle amélie bosquet, _la normandie romanesque et merveilleuse_ (paris and rouen, ), p. . [ ] a. de nore, _coutumes, mythes, et traditions des provinces de france_ (paris and lyons, ), p. . [ ] paul sébillot, _coutumes populaires de la haute-bretagne_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] albert meyrac, _traditions, coutumes, légendes et contes des ardennes_ (charleville, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] see above, p. . [ ] lerouze, in _mémoires de l'academie celtique_, iii. ( ) p. , quoted by j. brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. note. [ ] l.f. sauvé, _le folk-lore des hautes-vosges_ (paris, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] charles beauquier, _les mois en franche-comté_ (paris, ), p. . [ ] a. de nore, _coutumes, mythes, et traditions des provinces de france_ (paris and lyons, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] john brand, _popular antiquities of great britain_ (london, - ), i. . [ ] j. brand, _op. cit._ i. ; _the denham tracts_, edited by dr. james hardy (london, - ), ii. _sq._ [ ] herrick, _hesperides_, "ceremonies for christmasse": "_come, bring with a noise, my merrie merrie boyes, the christmas log to the firing_;... _with the last yeeres brand light the neiv block_" and, again, in his verses, "ceremonies for candlemasse day": "_kindle the christmas brand, and then till sunne-set let it burne; which quencht, then lay it up agen, till christmas next returne. part must be kept, wherewith to teend the christmas log next yeare; and where 'tis safely kept, the fiend can do no mischiefe there_" see _the works of robert herrick_ (edinburgh, ), vol. ii. pp. , . from these latter verses it seems that the yule log was replaced on the fire on candlemas (the second of february). [ ] miss c. s. burne and miss g. f. jackson, _shropshire folk-lore_ (london, ), p. note . see also below, pp. , , as to the lincolnshire, herefordshire, and welsh practice. [ ] francis grose, _provincial glossary_, second edition (london, ), pp. _sq._; t.f. thiselton dyer, _british popular customs_ (london, ), p. . [ ] _county folk-lore_, vol. iv. _northumberland_, collected by m.c. balfour and edited by northcote w. thomas (london, ), p. . [ ] _county folk-lore,_ vol. ii. _north riding of yorkshire, york and the ainsty,_ collected and edited by mrs. gutch (london, ), pp. , , _sq_. [ ] _county folk-lore_, vol. vi. _east riding of yorkshire_, collected and edited by mrs. gutch (london, ), pp. , , compare p. . [ ] john aubrey, _remaines of gentilisme and judaisme_ (london, ), p. . [ ] _county folk-lore_, vol. v. _lincolnshire_, collected by mrs. gutch and mabel peacock (london, ), p. . elsewhere in lincolnshire the yule-log seems to have been called the yule-clog (_op. cit_. pp. , ). [ ] mrs. samuel chandler (sarah whateley), quoted in _the folk-lore journal_, i. ( ) pp. _sq_. [ ] miss c.s. burne and miss g.f. jackson, _shropshire folk-lore_ (london, ), pp. _sq_. one of the informants of these writers says (_op. cit._ p. ): "in i was at the vessons farmhouse, near the eastbridge coppice (at the northern end of the stiperstones). the floor was of flags, an unusual thing in this part. observing a sort of roadway through the kitchen, and the flags much broken, i enquired what caused it, and was told it was from the horses' hoofs drawing in the 'christmas brund.'" [ ] mrs. ella mary leather, _the folklore of herefordshire_ (hereford and london, ), p. . compare miss c.s. burne, "herefordshire notes," _the folk-lore journal_, iv. ( ) p. . [ ] marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), p. . [ ] "in earlier ages, and even so late as towards the middle of the nineteenth century, the servian village organisation and the servian agriculture had yet another distinguishing feature. the dangers from wild beasts in old time, the want of security for life and property during the turkish rule, or rather misrule, the natural difficulties of the agriculture, more especially the lack in agricultural labourers, induced the servian peasants not to leave the parental house but to remain together on the family's property. in the same yard, within the same fence, one could see around the ancestral house a number of wooden huts which contained one or two rooms, and were used as sleeping places for the sons, nephews and grandsons and their wives. men and women of three generations could be often seen living in that way together, and working together the land which was considered as common property of the whole family. this expanded family, remaining with all its branches together, and, so to say, under the same roof, working together, dividing the fruits of their joint labours together, this family and an agricultural association in one, was called _zadrooga_ (the association). this combination of family and agricultural association has morally, economically, socially, and politically rendered very important services to the servians. the headman or chief (called _stareshina_) of such family association is generally the oldest male member of the family. he is the administrator of the common property and director of work. he is the executive chairman of the association. generally he does not give any order without having consulted all the grown-up male members of the _zadroega_" (chedo mijatovich, _servia and the servians_, london, , pp. _sq._). as to the house-communities of the south slavs see further og. m. utiesenovic, _die hauskommunionen der südslaven_ (vienna, ); f. demelic, _le droit coutumier des slaves méridionaux_ (paris, ), pp. _sqq._; f.s. krauss, _sitte und brauch der südslaven_ (vienna, ), pp. _sqq._ since servia, freed from turkish oppression, has become a well-regulated european state, with laws borrowed from the codes of france and germany, the old house-communities have been rapidly disappearing (chedo mijatovich, _op. cit._ p. ). [ ] chedo mijatovich, _servia and the servians_ (london, ), pp. - . [ ] baron rajacsich, _das leben, die sitten und gebräuche der im kaiserthume oesterreich lebenden südslaven_ (vienna, ), pp. - . [ ] baron rajacsich, _das leben, die sitten und gebrauche der im kaiserthume oesterreich lebenden südslaven_ (vienna, ), pp. - . the yule log (_badnyak_) is also known in bulgaria, where the women place it on the hearth on christmas eve. see a. strausz, _die bulgaren_ (leipsic, ), p. . [ ] m. edith durham, _high albania_ (london, ), p. . [ ] r.f. kaindl, _die huzulen_ (vienna, ) p. . [ ] see above, pp. , , , , , , , , , . similarly at candlemas people lighted candles in the churches, then took them home and kept them, and thought that by lighting them at any time they could keep off thunder, storm, and tempest. see barnabe googe, _the popish kingdom_ (reprinted london, ), p. _verso_. [ ] see above, pp. , , , , , . [ ] see _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, ii. _sqq._ [ ] see above, pp. , , , , . [ ] august witzschel, _sagen, sitten und gebräuche aus thüringen_ (vienna, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] jules lecoeur, _esquisses du bocage normand_ (condé-sur-noireau, - ), ii. _sq._ [ ] joseph train, _historical and statistical account of the isle of man_ (douglas, isle of man, ), ii. , referring to cregeen's _manx dictionary_, p. . [ ] r. chambers, _the book of days_ (london and edinburgh, ), ii. - , quoting _the banffshire journal_; miss c.f. gordon cumming, _in the hebrides_ (london, ), p. ; miss e.j. guthrie, _old scottish customs_ (london and glasgow, ), pp. - ; ch. rogers, _social life in scotland_ (edinburgh, - ), iii. _sq_.; _the folk-lore journal_, vii. ( ) pp. - , . miss gordon gumming and miss guthrie say that the burning of the clavie took place upon yule night; but this seems to be a mistake. [ ] caesar, _de bello gallico_, vii. . [ ] hugh w. young, f.s.a. scot., _notes on the ramparts of burghead as revealed by recent excavations_ (edinburgh, ), pp. _sqq_.; _notes on further excavations at burghead_ (edinburgh, ), pp. _sqq_. these papers are reprinted from the _proceedings of the society of antiquaries of scotland_, vols. xxv., xxvii. mr. young concludes as follows: "it is proved that the fort at burghead was raised by a people skilled in engineering, who used axes and chisels of iron; who shot balista stones over lbs. in weight; and whose daily food was the _bos longifrons_. a people who made paved roads, and sunk artesian wells, and used roman beads and pins. the riddle of burghead should not now be very difficult to read." (_notes on further excavations at burghead_, pp. _sq_.). for a loan of mr. young's pamphlets i am indebted to the kindness of sheriff-substitute david. [ ] robert cowie, m.a., m.d., _shetland, descriptive and historical_ (aberdeen, ), pp. _sq._; _county folk-lore_, vol. iii. _orkney and shetland islands_, collected by g.f. black and edited by northcote w. thomas (london, ), pp. _sq._ a similar celebration, known as up-helly-a, takes place at lerwick on the th of january, twenty-four days after old christmas. see _the scapegoat_, pp. - . perhaps the popular festival of up-helly-a has absorbed some of the features of the christmas eve celebration. [ ] thomas hyde, _historia religionis veterum persarum_ (oxford, ), pp. - . [ ] on the need-fire see jacob grimm, _deutsche mythologie_*[ ] i. _sqq._; j.w. wolf, _beiträge zur deutschen mythologie_ (göttingen and leipsic, - ), i. _sq._, ii. _sqq._; adalbert kuhn, _die herabkunjt des feuers und des göttertranks_*[ ] (gütersloh, ), pp. _sqq._; walter k. kelly, _curiosities of indo-european tradition and folk-lore_ (london, ), pp. _sqq._; w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus der germanen und ihrer nachbarstämme_ (berlin, ), pp. _sqq._; charles elton, _origins of english history_ (london, ), pp. _sqq._; ulrich jahn, _die deutschen opfergebräuche bei ackerbau und viehzucht_ (breslau, ), pp. _sqq._ grimm would derive the name _need-_fire (german, _niedfyr, nodfyr, nodfeur, nothfeur_) from _need_ (german, _noth_), "necessity," so that the phrase need-fire would mean "a forced fire." this is the sense attached to it in lindenbrog's glossary on the capitularies, quoted by grimm, _op. cit._ i. p. : "_eum ergo ignem_ nodfeur _et_ nodfyr, _quasi necessarium ignem vocant_" c.l. rochholz would connect _need_ with a verb _nieten_ "to churn," so that need-fire would mean "churned fire." see c.l. rochholz, _deutscher glaube und brauch_ (berlin, ), ii. _sq._ this interpretion is confirmed by the name _ankenmilch bohren_, which is given to the need-fire in some parts of switzerland. see e. hoffmann-krayer, "fruchtbarkeitsriten im schweizerischen volksbrauch," _schweizerisches archiv für volkskünde_, xi. ( ) p. . [ ] "_illos sacrilegos ignes, quos_ niedfyr _vocant_," quoted by j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. ; r. andree, _braunschweiger volkskunde_ (brunswick, ), p. . [ ] _indiculus superstitionum et paganiarum_, no. xv., "_de igne fricato de ligno i.e._ nodfyr." a convenient edition of the _indiculus_ has been published with a commentary by h.a. saupe (leipsic, ). as to the date of the work, see the editor's introduction, pp. _sq_. [ ] karl lynker, _deutsche sagen und sitten in hessischen gauen_,*[ ] (cassel and göttingen, ), pp. _sq._, quoting a letter of the mayor (_schultheiss_) of neustadt to the mayor of marburg dated th december . [ ] bartholomäus carrichter, _der teutschen speisskammer_ (strasburg, ), fol. pag. and , quoted by c.l. rochholz, _deutscher glaube und brauch_ (berlin, ), ii. _sq._ [ ] joh. reiskius, _untersuchung des notfeuers_ (frankfort and leipsic, ), p. , quoted by j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. _sq._; r. andree, _braunschweiger volkskunde_ (brunswick, ), p. . [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_, *[ ] i. _sq._ [ ] j. grimm, _op. cit._ i. . [ ] adalbert kuhn, _märkische sagen und märchen_ (berlin, ), p. . [ ] karl bartsch, _sagen, märchen und gebräuche aus mecklenburg_ (vienna, - ), ii. - . [ ] carl und theodor colshorn, _märchen und sagen_ (hanover, ), pp. - , from the description of an eye-witness. [ ] heinrich pröhle, _harzbilder, sitten und gebräuche aus dem harz-gebirge_ (leipsic, ), pp. _sq._ the date of this need-fire is not given; probably it was about the middle of the nineteenth century. [ ] r. andree, _braunschweiger volkskunde_ (brunswick, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] r. andree, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] montanus, _die deutschen volks-feste, volksbräuche und deutscher volksglaube_ (iserlohn, n.d.), p. . [ ] paul drechsler, _sitte, brauch und volksglaube in schlesien_ (leipsic, - ), ii. . [ ] anton peter, _volksthümliches aus Österreichisch-schlesien_ (troppau, - ), ii. . [ ] alois john, _sitte, brauch und volksglaube im deutschen westböhmen_ (prague, ), p. . [ ] c.l. rochholz, _deutscher glaube und brauch_ (berlin, ), ii. . [ ] e. hoffmann-krayer, "fruchtbarkeitsriten im schweizerischen volksbrauch," _schweizerisches archiv fur volkskunde_, xi. ( ) pp. - . [ ] e. hoffmann-krayer, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. . [ ] "old-time survivals in remote norwegian dales," _folk-lore_, xx. ( ) pp. , _sq._ this record of norwegian folk-lore is translated from a little work _sundalen og Öksendalens beskrivelse_ written by pastor chr. glükstad and published at christiania "about twenty years ago." [ ] prof. vi. titelbach, "das heilige feuer bei den balkanslaven," _inter-nationales archiv für ethnographie_, xiii. ( ) pp. _sq._ we have seen (above, p. ) that in russia the need-fire is, or used to be, annually kindled on the eighteenth of august. as to the need-fire in bulgaria see also below, pp. _sq._ [ ] f.s. krauss, "altslavische feuergewinnung," _globus_, lix. ( ) p. , quoting p. ljiebenov, _baba ega_ (trnovo, ), p. . [ ] f.s. krauss, _op. cit._ p. , quoting _wisla_, vol. iv. pp. , _sqq._ [ ] f.s. krauss, _op. cit._ p. , quoting oskar kolberg, in _mazowsze_, vol. iv. p. . [ ] f.s. krauss, "slavische feuerbohrer," _globus_, lix. ( ) p. . the evidence quoted by dr. krauss is that of his father, who often told of his experience to his son. [ ] prof. vl. titelbach, "das heilige feuer bei den balkanslaven," _internationales archiv fur ethnographie_, xiii. ( ) p. . [ ] see below, vol. ii. pp. _sqq._ [ ] adolf strausz, _die bulgaren_ (leipsic, ), pp. - . [ ] _wissenschaftliche mittheilungen aus bosnien und der hercegovina_, redigirt von moriz hoernes, iii. (vienna, ) pp. _sq._ [ ] "_pro fidei divinae integritate servanda recolat lector quod, cum hoc anno in laodonia pestis grassaretur in pecudes armenti, quam vocant usitate lungessouth, quidam bestiales, habitu claustrales non animo, docebant idiotas patriae ignem confrictione de lignis educere et simulachrum priapi statuere, et per haec bestiis succurrere_" quoted by j.m. kemble, _the saxons in england_ (london, ), i. _sq._; a. kuhn, _die herabkunft des feuers und des göttertranks_*[ ] (gütersloh, ), p. ; ulrich jahn, _die deutschen opfergebräuche bei ackerbau und viehzucht_ (breslau, ) p. . [ ] w.g.m. jones barker, _the three days of wensleydale_ (london, ), pp. _sq._; _county folk-lore_, vol. ii., _north riding of yorkshire, york and the ainsty_, collected and edited by mrs. gutch (london, ), p. . [ ] _the denham tracts, a collection of folklore by michael aislabie denham_, edited by dr. james hardy (london, - ), ii. . [ ] harry speight, _tramps and drives in the craven highlands_ (london, ), p. . compare, _id., the craven and north-west yorkshire highlands_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] j.m. kemble, _the saxons in england_ (london, ), i. note. [ ] e. mackenzie, _an historical, topographical and descriptive view of the county of northumberland_, second edition (newcastle, ), i. , quoted in _county folk-lore_, vol. iv. _northumberland_, collected by m.c. balfour (london, ), p. . compare j.t. brockett, _glossary of north country words_, p. , quoted by mrs. m.c. balfour, _l.c.: "need-fire_ ... an ignition produced by the friction of two pieces of dried wood. the vulgar opinion is, that an angel strikes a tree, and that the fire is thereby obtained. need-fire, i am told, is still employed in the case of cattle infected with the murrain. they were formerly driven through the smoke of a fire made of straw, etc." the first edition of brockett's _glossary_ was published in . [ ] w. henderson, _notes on the folklore of the northern counties of england and the borders_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ compare _county folklore_, vol. iv. _northumberland_, collected by m.c. balfour (london, ), p. . stamfordham is in northumberland. the vicar's testimony seems to have referred to the first half of the nineteenth century. [ ] m. martin, "description of the western islands of scotland," in j. pinkerton's _general collection of voyages and travels_, iii. (london, ), p. . the second edition of martin's book, which pinkerton reprints, was published at london in . for john ramsay's account of the need-fire, see above, pp. _sq._ [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. , referring to miss austin as his authority. [ ] as to the custom of sacrificing one of a plague-stricken herd or flock for the purpose of saving the rest, see below, pp. _sqq._ [ ] john jamieson, _etymological dictionary of the scottish language_, new edition, revised by j. longmuir and d. donaldson, iii. (paisley, ) pp. _sq._, referring to "agr. surv. caithn., pp. , ." [ ] r.c. maclagan, "sacred fire," _folk-lore_, ix. ( ) pp. _sq._ as to the fire-drill see _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, ii. _sqq._ [ ] w. grant stewart, _the popular superstitions and festive amusements of the highlanders of scotland_ (edinburgh, ), pp. - ; walter k. kelly, _curiosities of indo-european tradition and folk-lore_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] alexander carmichael, _carmina gadelica_ (edinburgh, ), ii. _sq._ [ ] see above, pp. , , , _sq._ [ ] _census of india, _, vol. xiv. _punjab_, part i. _report_, by pandit harikishan kaul (lahore, ), p. . so in the north-east of scotland "those who were born with their feet first possessed great power to heal all kinds of sprains, lumbago, and rheumatism, either by rubbing the affected part, or by trampling on it. the chief virtue lay in the feet. those who came into the world in this fashion often exercised their power to their own profit." see rev. walter gregor, _notes on the folk-lore of the north-east of scotland_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] rev. walter gregor, _notes on the folk-lore of the north-east of scotland_ (london, ), p. . the fumigation of the byres with juniper is a charm against witchcraft. see j.g. campbell, _witchcraft and second sight in the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), p. ii. the "quarter-ill" is a disease of cattle, which affects the animals only in one limb or quarter. "a very gross superstition is observed by some people in angus, as an antidote against this ill. a piece is cut out of the thigh of one of the cattle that has died of it. this they hang up within the chimney, in order to preserve the rest of the cattle from being infected. it is believed that as long as it hangs there, it will prevent the disease from approaching the place. it is therefore carefully preserved; and in case of the family removing, transported to the new farm, as one of their valuable effects. it is handed down from one generation to another" (j. jamieson, _etymological dictionary of the scottish language_, revised by j. longmuir and d. donaldson, iii. , _s.v._ "quarter-ill"). see further rev. w. gregor, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._: "the forelegs of one of the animals that had died were cut off a little above the knee, and hung over the fire-place in the kitchen. it was thought sufficient by some if they were placed over the door of the byre, in the 'crap o' the wa'.' sometimes the heart and part of the liver and lungs were cut out, and hung over the fireplace instead of the fore-feet. boiling them was at times substituted for hanging them over the hearth." compare w. henderson, _notes on the folk-lore of the northern counties of england and the borders_ (london, ), p. : "a curious aid to the rearing of cattle came lately to the knowledge of mr. george walker, a gentleman of the city of durham. during an excursion of a few miles into the country, he observed a sort of rigging attached to the chimney of a farmhouse well known to him, and asked what it meant. the good wife told him that they had experienced great difficulty that year in rearing their calves; the poor little creatures all died off, so they had taken the leg and thigh of one of the dead calves, and hung it in a chimney by a rope, since which they had not lost another calf." in the light of facts cited below (pp. _sqq._) we may conjecture that the intention of cutting off the legs or cutting out the heart, liver, and lungs of the animals and hanging them up or boiling them, is by means of homoeopathic magic to inflict corresponding injuries on the witch who cast the fatal spell on the cattle. [ ] _the mirror_, th june, , quoted by j. m. kemble, _the saxons in england_ (london, ), i. note . [ ] leland l. duncan, "fairy beliefs and other folklore notes from county leitrim," _folk-lore_, vii. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] (sir) edward b. tylor, _researches into the early history of mankind_, third edition (london, ), pp. _sqq._; _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, ii. _sqq._ [ ] for some examples of such extinctions, see _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, ii. _sqq._, _sq._; _spirits of the corn and of the wild_, i. , ii. _sq._; and above, pp. _sq._, - . the reasons for extinguishing fires ceremonially appear to vary with the occasion. sometimes the motive seems to be a fear of burning or at least singeing a ghost, who is hovering invisible in the air; sometimes it is apparently an idea that a fire is old and tired with burning so long, and that it must be relieved of the fatiguing duty by a young and vigorous flame. [ ] above, pp. , . the same custom appears to have been observed in ireland. see above, p. . [ ] j.n.b. hewitt, "new fire among the iroquois," _the american anthropologist_, ii. ( ) p. . [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. . [ ] see above, p. . [ ] william hone, _every-day book_ (london, preface dated ), i. coll. _sq._ (june th), quoting hitchin's _history of cornwall_. [ ] hunt, _romances and drolls of the west of england_, st series, p. , quoted by w. henderson, _notes on the folk-lore of the northern counties of england and the borders_ (london, ), p. . compare j.g. dalyell, _the darker superstitions of scotland_ (edinburgh, ), p. : "here also maybe found a solution of that recent expedient so ignorantly practised in the neighbouring kingdom, where one having lost many of his herd by witchcraft, as he concluded, burnt a living calf to break the spell and preserve the remainder." [ ] marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), p. . [ ] w. henderson, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] rev. walter gregor, _notes on the folk-lore of the north-east of scotland_ (london, ), p. . [ ] r. n. worth, _history of devonshire_, second edition (london, ), p. . the diabolical nature of the toad probably explains why people in herefordshire think that if you wear a toad's heart concealed about your person you can steal to your heart's content without being found out. a suspected thief was overheard boasting, "they never catches _me_: and they never ooll neither. i allus wears a toad's heart round my neck, _i_ does." see mrs. ella m. leather, in _folk-lore_, xxiv. ( ) p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] robert hunt, _popular romances of the west of england_, third edition (london, ), p. . the writer does not say where this took place; probably it was in cornwall or devonshire. [ ] rev. walter gregor, _notes on the folk-lore of the north-east of scotland_ (london, ), p. . [ ] _county folk-lore, printed extracts, no. , suffolk_, collected and edited by the lady eveline camilla gurdon (london, ), pp. _sq._, quoting _some materials for the history of wherstead_ by f. barham zincke (ipswich, ), p. . [ ] _county folk-lore, printed extracts, no. , suffolk_, p. , referring to murray's _handbook for essex, suffolk_, etc., p. . [ ] (sir) john rhys, "manx folklore and superstitions," _folk-lore_, ii. ( ) pp. - ; repeated in his _celtic folk-lore, welsh and manx_ (oxford, ), i. _sq._ sir john rhys does not doubt that the old woman saw, as she said, a live sheep being burnt on old may-day; but he doubts whether it was done as a sacrifice. he adds: "i have failed to find anybody else in andreas or bride, or indeed in the whole island, who will now confess to having ever heard of the sheep sacrifice on old may-day." however, the evidence i have adduced of a custom of burnt sacrifice among english rustics tends to confirm the old woman's statement, that the burning of the live sheep which she witnessed was not an act of wanton cruelty but a sacrifice per formed for the public good. [ ] (sir) john rhys, "manx folklore and superstitions," _folk-lore_, ii. ( ) pp. _sq.; id., celtic folklore, welsh and manx_ (oxford, ), i. _sq._ we have seen that by burning the blood of a bewitched bullock a farmer expected to compel the witch to appear. see above, p. . [ ] olaus magnus, _historia de gentium septentrionalium conditionibus_, lib xviii. cap. , p. (ed. bâle, ). [ ] collin de plancy, _dictionnaire infernal_ (paris, - ), iii. _sq._, referring to boguet. [ ] collin de plancy, _op. cit._ iii. . [ ] felix chapiseau, _le folk-lore de la beauce et du perche_ (paris, ), i. _sq._ the same story is told in upper brittany. see paul sébillot, _traditions et superstitions de la haute-bretagne_ (paris, ), i. . it is a common belief that a man who has once been transformed into a werewolf must remain a were-wolf for seven years unless blood is drawn from him in his animal shape, upon which he at once recovers his human form and is delivered from the bondage and misery of being a were-wolf. see f. chapiseau, _op. cit._ i. - ; amélie bosquet, _la normandie romanesque et merveilleuse_ (paris and rouen, ), p. . on the belief in were-wolves in general; see w. hertz, _der werwolf_ (stuttgart, ); j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_*[ ] i. _sqq._; (sir) edward b. tylor, _primitive culture_[ ] (london, ), i. _sqq._; r. andree, _ethnographische parallelen und vergleiche_ (stuttgart, ), pp. - . in north germany it is believed that a man can turn himself into a wolf by girding himself with a strap made out of a wolf's hide. some say that the strap must have nine, others say twelve, holes and a buckle; and that according to the number of the hole through which the man inserts the tongue of the buckle will be the length of time of his transformation. for example, if he puts the tongue of the buckle through the first hole, he will be a wolf for one hour; if he puts it through the second, he will be a wolf for two days; and so on, up to the last hole, which entails a transformation for a full year. but by putting off the girdle the man can resume his human form. the time when were-wolves are most about is the period of the twelve nights between christmas and epiphany; hence cautious german farmers will not remove the dung from the cattle stalls at that season for fear of attracting the were-wolves to the cattle. see adalbert kuhn, _märkische sagen und märchen_ (berlin, ), p. ; ulrich jahn, _volkssagen aus pommern und rügen_ (stettin, ), pp. , , nos. , . down to the time of elizabeth it was reported that in the county of tipperary certain men were annually turned into wolves. see w. camden, _britain_, translated into english by philemon holland (london, ), "ireland," p. . [ ] j.j.m. de groot, _the religious system of china_, v. (leyden, ) p. . [ ] a. c. kruijt, "de weerwolf bij de toradja's van midden-celebes," _tijdschrift voor indische taal- landen volkenkunde,_ xli. ( ) pp. - , - . [ ] a.c. kruijt, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] a.c. kruijt, _op. cit._ pp. . for more evidence of the belief in were-wolves, or rather in were-animals of various sorts, particularly were-tigers, in the east indies, see j.j. m. de groot, "de weertijger in onze koloniën en op het oostaziatische vasteland," _bijdragen tot de taal- land- en volkenkunde van nederlandsch-indië_, xlix. ( ) pp. - ; g.p. rouffaer, "matjan gadoengan," _bijdragen tot de taal- land- en volkenkunde van nederlandsch-indië_ . ( ) pp. - ; j. knebel, "de weertijger op midden-java, den javaan naverteld," _tijdschrift voor indische taal- land- en volkenkunde_, xli. ( ) pp. - ; l.m.f. plate, "bijdrage tot de kennis van de lykanthropie bij de sasaksche bevolking in oost-lombok," _tijdschrift voor indische taal- land- en volkenkunde_, liv. ( ) pp. - ; g.a. wilken, "het animisme bij de volken van den indischen archipel," _verspreide geschriften_ (the hague, ), iii. - . [ ] ernst marno, _reisen im gebiete des blauen und weissen nil_ (vienna, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] petronius, _sat._ _sq._ (pp. _sq._, ed. fr. buecheler,*[ ] berlin, ). the latin word for a were-wolf (_versipellis_) is expressive: it means literally "skin-shifter," and is equally appropriate whatever the particular animal may be into which the wizard transforms himself. it is to be regretted that we have no such general term in english. the bright moonlight which figures in some of these were-wolf stories is perhaps not a mere embellishment of the tale but has its own significance; for in some places it is believed that the transformation of were-wolves into their bestial shape takes place particularly at full moon. see a. de nore, _coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de france_ (paris and lyons, ), pp. , ; j.l.m. noguès, _les moeurs d'autrefois en saintonge et en aunis_ (saintes, ), p. . [ ] j.g. campbell, _witchcraft and second sight in the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), p. : "in carrying out their unhallowed cantrips, witches assumed various shapes. they became gulls, cormorants, ravens, rats, mice, black sheep, swelling waves, whales, and very frequently cats and hares." to this list of animals into which witches can turn themselves may be added horses, dogs, wolves, foxes, pigs, owls, magpies, wild geese, ducks, serpents, toads, lizards, flies, wasps, and butterflies. see a. wuttke, _der deutsche volksaberglaube_*[ ] (berlin, ), p. § ; l. strackerjan, _aberglaube und sagen aus dem herzogthum oldenburg_ (oldenburg, ), i. § ; ulrich jahn, _hexenwesen und zauberei in pommern_ (breslau, ), p. . in his _topography of ireland_ (chap. ), a work completed in a.d., giraldus cambrensis records that "it has also been a frequent complaint, from old times as well as in the present, that certain hags in wales, as well as in ireland and scotland, changed themselves into the shape of hares, that, sucking teats under this counterfeit form, they might stealthily rob other people's milk." see _the historical works of giraldus cambrensis_, revised and edited by thomas wright (london, ), p. . [ ] _the folk-lore journal_, iv. ( ) p. ; collin de plancy, _dictionnaire infernal_ (paris, - ), iii. ; j.l.m. noguès, _les moeurs d'autrefois en saintonge et en aunis_ (saintes, ), p. . in scotland the cut was known as "scoring above the breath." it consisted of two incisions made crosswise on the witch's forehead, and was "confided in all throughout scotland as the most powerful counter-charm." see sir walter scott, _letters on demonology and witchcraft_ (london, ), p. ; j.g. dalyell, _the darker superstitions of scotland_ (edinburgh, ), pp. _sq._; m.m. banks, "scoring a witch above the breath," _folk-lore_, xxiii. ( ) p. . [ ] j.l.m. noguès, _l.c._; l.f. sauvé, _le folk-lore des hautes-vosges_ (paris, ), p. . [ ] m. abeghian, _der armenische volksglaube_ (leipsic, ), p. . the wolf-skin is supposed to fall down from heaven and to return to heaven after seven years, if the were-wolf has not been delivered from her unhappy state in the meantime by the burning of the skin. [ ] j.g. campbell, _witchcraft and second sight in the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), p. ; compare a. wuttke, _der deutsche volksaberglaube_*[ ] (berlin, ), p. § . some think that the sixpence should be crooked. see rev. w. gregor, _notes on the folk-lore of the north-east of scotland_ (london, ), pp. _sq._, ; _county folk-lore_, vol. v. _lincolnshire_, collected by mrs. gutch and mabel peacock (london, ), p. . [ ] j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] j.g. campbell, _op. cit._ p. . [ ] (sir) edward b. tylor, _primitive culture_*[ ] (london, ), i. . [ ] joseph glanvil, _saducismus triumphatus or full and plain evidence concerning witches and apparitions_ (london, ), part ii. p. . [ ] rev. j.c. atkinson, _forty years in a moorland parish_ (london, ), pp. - . [ ] _county folk-lore_, vol. v. _lincolnshire_, collected by mrs. gutch and mabel peacock (london, ), pp. , . [ ] leland l. duncan, "folk-lore gleanings from county leitrim," _folklore_, iv. ( ) pp. _sq._ [ ] l.f. sauvé, _le folk-lore des hautes-vosges_ (paris, ), p. . [ ] l.f. sauvé, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._ [ ] ernst meier, _deutsche sagen, sitten und gebräuche aus schwaben_ (stuttgart, ), pp. _sq._, no. . [ ] e. meier, _op. cit._ pp. _sq._, no. . a similar story of the shoeing of a woman in the shape of a horse is reported from silesia. see r. kühnau, _schlesische sagen_ (berlin, - ), iii. pp. _sq._, no. . [ ] r. kühnau, _schlesische sagen_ (berlin, - ), iii. pp. _sq._, no. . compare _id._, iii. pp. _sq._, no. . [ ] see for example l. strackerjan, _aberglaube und sagen aus dem herzogthum oldenburg_ (oldenburg, ), i. pp. , , , ; w. von schulenburg, _wendische volkssagen und gebräuche aus dem spreewald_ (leipsic, ), pp. , _sq._; h. pröhle, _harzsagen_ (leipsic, ), i. _sq._ the belief in such things is said to be universal among the ignorant and superstitious in germany. see a. wuttke, _der deutsche volksaberglaube_*[ ] (berlin, ), p. , § . in wales, also, "the possibility of injuring or marking the witch in her assumed shape so deeply that the bruise remained a mark on her in her natural form was a common belief" (j. ceredig davies, _folk-lore of west and mid-wales_, aberystwyth, , p. ). for welsh stories of this sort, see j. ceredig davies, _l.c._; rev. elias owen, _welsh folk-lore_ (oswestry and wrexham, n.d., preface dated ), pp. _sq._; m. trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), p. . [ ] l. strackerjan, _aberglaube und sagen aus dem herzogthum oldenburg_ (oldenburg, ), i. p. , § . [ ] marie trevelyan, _folk-lore and folk-stories of wales_ (london, ), p. . [ ] l. strackerjan, _aberglaube und sagen aus dem herzogthum oldenburg_ (oldenburg, ), i. p. , § . [ ] l. strackerjan, _op. cit._ i. p. , § e. [ ] "the 'witch-burning' at clonmell," _folk-lore_, vi. ( ) pp. - . the account there printed is based on the reports of the judicial proceedings before the magistrates and the judge, which were published in _the irish times_ for march th, th, and th, april nd, rd, th, and th, and july th, . [ ] john graham dalyell, _the darker superstitions of scotland_ (edinburgh, ), p. . in this passage "quick" is used in the old sense of "living," as in the phrase "the quick and the dead." _nois_ is "nose," _hoill_ is "hole," _quhilk (whilk)_ is "which," and _be_ is "by." [ ] j.g. dalyell, _op. cit._ p. . _bestiall_=animals; _seik_=sick; _calling_=driving; _guidis_=cattle. [ ] john ramsay, of ochtertyre, _scotland and scotsmen in the eighteenth century_, edited by alexander allardyce (edinburgh and london, ), ii. _sq._ as to the custom of cutting off the leg of a diseased animal and hanging it up in the house, see above, p. , note . [ ] (sir) arthur mitchell, a.m., m.d., _on various superstitions in the north-west highlands and islands of scotland_ (edinburgh, ), p. (reprinted from the _proceedings of the society of antiquaries of scotland_, vol. iv.). [ ] _county folk-lore_, vol. v. _lincolnshire_, collected by mrs. gutch and mabel peacock (london, ), p. , quoting rev. r.m. heanley, "the vikings: traces of their folklore in marshland," a paper read before the viking club, london, and printed in its _saga-book_, vol. iii. part i. jan. . the wicken-tree is the mountain-ash or rowan free, which is a very efficient, or at all events a very popular protective against witchcraft. see _county folk-lore_, vol. v. _lincolnshire_, pp. _sq._, _sq._; mabel peacock, "the folklore of lincolnshire," _folk-lore_, xii. ( ) p. ; j.g. campbell, _witchcraft and second sight in the highlands and islands of scotland_ (glasgow, ), pp. _sq._; rev. walter gregor, _notes on the folk-lore of the north-east of scotland_ (london, ), p. . see further _the scapegoat_, pp. _sq_. chapter v the interpretation of the fire-festivals § . _on the fire-festivals in general_ [general resemblance of the european fire-festivals to each other.] the foregoing survey of the popular fire-festivals of europe suggests some general observations. in the first place we can hardly help being struck by the resemblance which the ceremonies bear to each other, at whatever time of the year and in whatever part of europe they are celebrated. the custom of kindling great bonfires, leaping over them, and driving cattle through or round them would seem to have been practically universal throughout europe, and the same may be said of the processions or races with blazing torches round fields, orchards, pastures, or cattle-stalls. less widespread are the customs of hurling lighted discs into the air[ ] and trundling a burning wheel down hill;[ ] for to judge by the evidence which i have collected these modes of distributing the beneficial influence of the fire have been confined in the main to central europe. the ceremonial of the yule log is distinguished from that of the other fire-festivals by the privacy and domesticity which characterize it; but, as we have already seen, this distinction may well be due simply to the rough weather of midwinter, which is apt not only to render a public assembly in the open air disagreeable, but also at any moment to defeat the object of the assembly by extinguishing the all-important fire under a downpour of rain or a fall of snow. apart from these local or seasonal differences, the general resemblance between the fire-festivals at all times of the year and in all places is tolerably close. and as the ceremonies themselves resemble each other, so do the benefits which the people expect to reap from them. whether applied in the form of bonfires blazing at fixed points, or of torches carried about from place to place, or of embers and ashes taken from the smouldering heap of fuel, the fire is believed to promote the growth of the crops and the welfare of man and beast, either positively by stimulating them, or negatively by averting the dangers and calamities which threaten them from such causes as thunder and lightning, conflagration, blight, mildew, vermin, sterility, disease, and not least of all witchcraft. [two explanations suggested of the fire-festivals. according to w. mannhardt, they are charms to secure a supply of sunshine; according to dr. e. westermarck they are purificatory, being intended to burn and destroy all harmful influences.] but we naturally ask, how did it come about that benefits so great and manifold were supposed to be attained by means so simple? in what way did people imagine that they could procure so many goods or avoid so many ills by the application of fire and smoke, of embers and ashes? in short, what theory underlay and prompted the practice of these customs? for that the institution of the festivals was the outcome of a definite train of reasoning may be taken for granted; the view that primitive man acted first and invented his reasons to suit his actions afterwards, is not borne out by what we know of his nearest living representatives, the savage and the peasant. two different explanations of the fire-festivals have been given by modern enquirers. on the one hand it has been held that they are sun-charms or magical ceremonies intended, on the principle of imitative magic, to ensure a needful supply of sunshine for men, animals, and plants by kindling fires which mimic on earth the great source of light and heat in the sky. this was the view of wilhelm mannhardt.[ ] it may be called the solar theory. on the other hand it has been maintained that the ceremonial fires have no necessary reference to the sun but are simply purificatory in intention, being designed to burn up and destroy all harmful influences, whether these are conceived in a personal form as witches, demons, and monsters, or in an impersonal form as a sort of pervading taint or corruption of the air. this is the view of dr. edward westermarck[ ] and apparently of professor eugen mogk.[ ] it may be called the purificatory theory. obviously the two theories postulate two very different conceptions of the fire which plays the principal part in the rites. on the one view, the fire, like sunshine in our latitude, is a genial creative power which fosters the growth of plants and the development of all that makes for health and happiness; on the other view, the fire is a fierce destructive power which blasts and consumes all the noxious elements, whether spiritual or material, that menace the life of men, of animals, and of plants. according to the one theory the fire is a stimulant, according to the other it is a disinfectant; on the one view its virtue is positive, on the other it is negative. [the two explanations are perhaps not mutually exclusive.] yet the two explanations, different as they are in the character which they attribute to the fire, are perhaps not wholly irreconcilable. if we assume that the fires kindled at these festivals were primarily intended to imitate the sun's light and heat, may we not regard the purificatory and disinfecting qualities, which popular opinion certainly appears to have ascribed to them, as attributes derived directly from the purificatory and disinfecting qualities of sunshine? in this way we might conclude that, while the imitation of sunshine in these ceremonies was primary and original, the purification attributed to them was secondary and derivative. such a conclusion, occupying an intermediate position between the two opposing theories and recognizing an element of truth in both of them, was adopted by me in earlier editions of this work;[ ] but in the meantime dr. westermarck has argued powerfully in favour of the purificatory theory alone, and i am bound to say that his arguments carry great weight, and that on a fuller review of the facts the balance of evidence seems to me to incline decidedly in his favour. however, the case is not so clear as to justify us in dismissing the solar theory without discussion, and accordingly i propose to adduce the considerations which tell for it before proceeding to notice those which tell against it. a theory which had the support of so learned and sagacious an investigator as w. mannhardt is entitled to a respectful hearing. § . _the solar theory of the fire-festivals_ [theory that the fire-festivals are charms to ensure a supply of sunshine.] in an earlier part of this work we saw that savages resort to charms for making sunshine,[ ] and it would be no wonder if primitive man in europe did the same. indeed, when we consider the cold and cloudy climate of europe during a great part of the year, we shall find it natural that sun-charms should have played a much more prominent part among the superstitious practices of european peoples than among those of savages who live nearer the equator and who consequently are apt to get in the course of nature more sunshine than they want. this view of the festivals may be supported by various arguments drawn partly from their dates, partly from the nature of the rites, and partly from the influence which they are believed to exert upon the weather and on vegetation. [coincidence of two of the festivals with the solstices.] first, in regard to the dates of the festivals it can be no mere accident that two of the most important and widely spread of the festivals are timed to coincide more or less exactly with the summer and winter solstices, that is, with the two turning-points in the sun's apparent course in the sky when he reaches respectively his highest and his lowest elevation at noon. indeed with respect to the midwinter celebration of christmas we are not left to conjecture; we know from the express testimony of the ancients that it was instituted by the church to supersede an old heathen festival of the birth of the sun,[ ] which was apparently conceived to be born again on the shortest day of the year, after which his light and heat were seen to grow till they attained their full maturity at midsummer. therefore it is no very far fetched conjecture to suppose that the yule log, which figures so prominently in the popular celebration of christmas, was originally designed to help the labouring sun of midwinter to rekindle his seemingly expiring light. [attempt of the bushmen to warm up the fire of sirius in midwinter by kindling sticks.] the idea that by lighting a log on earth you can rekindle a fire in heaven or fan it into a brighter blaze, naturally seems to us absurd; but to the savage mind it wears a different aspect, and the institution of the great fire-festivals which we are considering probably dates from a time when europe was still sunk in savagery or at most in barbarism. now it can be shewn that in order to increase the celestial source of heat at midwinter savages resort to a practice analogous to that of our yule log, if the kindling of the yule log was originally a magical rite intended to rekindle the sun. in the southern hemisphere, where the order of the seasons is the reverse of ours, the rising of sirius or the dog star in july marks the season of the greatest cold instead of, as with us, the greatest heat; and just as the civilized ancients ascribed the torrid heat of midsummer to that brilliant star,[ ] so the modern savage of south africa attributes to it the piercing cold of midwinter and seeks to mitigate its rigour by warming up the chilly star with the genial heat of the sun. how he does so may be best described in his own words as follows:--[ ] "the bushmen perceive canopus, they say to a child: 'give me yonder piece of wood, that i may put the end of it in the fire, that i may point it burning towards grandmother, for grandmother carries bushman rice; grandmother shall make a little warmth for us; for she coldly comes out; the sun[ ] shall warm grandmother's eye for us.' sirius comes out; the people call out to one another: 'sirius comes yonder;' they say to one another: 'ye must burn a stick for us towards sirius.' they say to one another: 'who was it who saw sirius?' one man says to the other: 'our brother saw sirius,' the other man says to him: 'i saw sirius.' the other man says to him: 'i wish thee to burn a stick for us towards sirius; that the sun may shining come out for us; that sirius may not coldly come out' the other man (the one who saw sirius) says to his son: 'bring me the small piece of wood yonder, that i may put the end of it in the fire, that i may burn it towards grandmother; that grandmother may ascend the sky, like the other one, canopus.' the child brings him the piece of wood, he (the father) holds the end of it in the fire. he points it burning towards sirius; he says that sirius shall twinkle like canopus. he sings; he sings about canopus, he sings about sirius; he points to them with fire,[ ] that they may twinkle like each other. he throws fire at them. he covers himself up entirely (including his head) in his kaross and lies down. he arises, he sits down; while he does not again lie down; because he feels that he has worked, putting sirius into the sun's warmth; so that sirius may warmly come out. the women go out early to seek for bushman rice; they walk, sunning their shoulder blades."[ ] what the bushmen thus do to temper the cold of midwinter in the southern hemisphere by blowing up the celestial fires may have been done by our rude forefathers at the corresponding season in the northern hemisphere. [the burning wheels and discs of the fire-festivals may be direct imitations of the sun.] not only the date of some of the festivals but the manner of their celebration suggests a conscious imitation of the sun. the custom of rolling a burning wheel down a hill, which is often observed at these ceremonies, might well pass for an imitation of the sun's course in the sky, and the imitation would be especially appropriate on midsummer day when the sun's annual declension begins. indeed the custom has been thus interpreted by some of those who have recorded it.[ ] not less graphic, it may be said, is the mimicry of his apparent revolution by swinging a burning tar-barrel round a pole.[ ] again, the common practice of throwing fiery discs, sometimes expressly said to be shaped like suns, into the air at the festivals may well be a piece of imitative magic. in these, as in so many cases, the magic force may be supposed to take effect through mimicry or sympathy: by imitating the desired result you actually produce it: by counterfeiting the sun's progress through the heavens you really help the luminary to pursue his celestial journey with punctuality and despatch. the name "fire of heaven," by which the midsummer fire is sometimes popularly known,[ ] clearly implies a consciousness of a connexion between the earthly and the heavenly flame. [the wheel sometimes used to kindle the fire by friction may also be an imitation of the sun.] again, the manner in which the fire appears to have been originally kindled on these occasions has been alleged in support of the view that it was intended to be a mock-sun. as some scholars have perceived, it is highly probable that at the periodic festivals in former times fire was universally obtained by the friction of two pieces of wood.[ ] we have seen that it is still so procured in some places both at the easter and the midsummer festivals, and that it is expressly said to have been formerly so procured at the beltane celebration both in scotland and wales.[ ] but what makes it nearly certain that this was once the invariable mode of kindling the fire at these periodic festivals is the analogy of the need-fire, which has almost always been produced by the friction of wood, and sometimes by the revolution of a wheel. it is a plausible conjecture that the wheel employed for this purpose represents the sun,[ ] and if the fires at the regularly recurring celebrations were formerly produced in the same way, it might be regarded as a confirmation of the view that they were originally sun-charms. in point of fact there is, as kuhn has indicated,[ ] some evidence to shew that the midsummer fire was originally thus produced. we have seen that many hungarian swineherds make fire on midsummer eve by rotating a wheel round a wooden axle wrapt in hemp, and that they drive their pigs through the fire thus made.[ ] at obermedlingen, in swabia, the "fire of heaven," as it was called, was made on st. vitus's day (the fifteenth of june) by igniting a cartwheel, which, smeared with pitch and plaited with straw, was fastened on a pole twelve feet high, the top of the pole being inserted in the nave of the wheel. this fire was made on the summit of a mountain, and as the flame ascended, the people uttered a set form of words, with eyes and arms directed heavenward.[ ] here the fixing of a wheel on a pole and igniting it suggests that originally the fire was produced, as in the case of the need-fire, by the revolution of a wheel. the day on which the ceremony takes place (the fifteenth of june) is near midsummer; and we have seen that in masuren fire is, or used to be, actually made on midsummer day by turning a wheel rapidly about an oaken pole,[ ] though it is not said that the new fire so obtained is used to light a bonfire. however, we must bear in mind that in all such cases the use of a wheel may be merely a mechanical device to facilitate the operation of fire-making by increasing the friction; it need not have any symbolical significance. [the influence which the fires are supposed to exert on the weather and vegetation may be thought to be due to an increase of solar heat produced by the fires.] further, the influence which these fires, whether periodic or occasional, are supposed to exert on the weather and vegetation may be cited in support of the view that they are sun-charms, since the effects ascribed to them resemble those of sunshine. thus, the french belief that in a rainy june the lighting of the midsummer bonfires will cause the rain to cease[ ] appears to assume that they can disperse the dark clouds and make the sun to break out in radiant glory, drying the wet earth and dripping trees. similarly the use of the need-fire by swiss children on foggy days for the purpose of clearing away the mist[ ] may very naturally be interpreted as a sun-charm. again, we have seen that in the vosges mountains the people believe that the midsummer fires help to preserve the fruits of the earth and ensure good crops.[ ] in sweden the warmth or cold of the coming season is inferred from the direction in which the flames of the may day bonfire are blown; if they blow to the south, it will be warm, if to the north, cold.[ ] no doubt at present the direction of the flames is regarded merely as an augury of the weather, not as a mode of influencing it. but we may be pretty sure that this is one of the cases in which magic has dwindled into divination. so in the eifel mountains, when the smoke blows towards the corn-fields, this is an omen that the harvest will be abundant.[ ] but the older view may have been not merely that the smoke and flames prognosticated, but that they actually produced an abundant harvest, the heat of the flames acting like sunshine on the corn. perhaps it was with this view that people in the isle of man lit fires to windward of their fields in order that the smoke might blow over them.[ ] so in south africa, about the month of april, the matabeles light huge fires to the windward of their gardens, "their idea being that the smoke, by passing over the crops, will assist the ripening of them."[ ] among the zulus also "medicine is burned on a fire placed to windward of the garden, the fumigation which the plants in consequence receive being held to improve the crop."[ ] again, the idea of our european peasants that the corn will grow well as far as the blaze of the bonfire is visible,[ ] may be interpreted as a remnant of the belief in the quickening and fertilizing power of the bonfires. the same belief, it may be argued, reappears in the notion that embers taken from the bonfires and inserted in the fields will promote the growth of the crops,[ ] and it may be thought to underlie the customs of sowing flax-seed in the direction in which the flames blow,[ ] of mixing the ashes of the bonfire with the seed-corn at sowing,[ ] of scattering the ashes by themselves over the field to fertilize it,[ ] and of incorporating a piece of the yule log in the plough to make the seeds thrive.[ ] the opinion that the flax or hemp will grow as high as the flames rise or the people leap over them[ ] belongs clearly to the same class of ideas. again, at konz, on the banks of the moselle, if the blazing wheel which was trundled down the hillside reached the river without being extinguished, this was hailed as a proof that the vintage would be abundant. so firmly was this belief held that the successful performance of the ceremony entitled the villagers to levy a tax upon the owners of the neighbouring vineyards.[ ] here the unextinguished wheel might be taken to represent an unclouded sun, which in turn would portend an abundant vintage. so the waggon-load of white wine which the villagers received from the vineyards round about might pass for a payment for the sunshine which they had procured for the grapes. similarly we saw that in the vale of glamorgan a blazing wheel used to be trundled down hill on midsummer day, and that if the fire were extinguished before the wheel reached the foot of the hill, the people expected a bad harvest; whereas if the wheel kept alight all the way down and continued to blaze for a long time, the farmers looked forward to heavy crops that summer.[ ] here, again, it is natural to suppose that the rustic mind traced a direct connexion between the fire of the wheel and the fire of the sun, on which the crops are dependent. [the effect which the bonfires are supposed to have in fertilizing cattle and women may also be attributed to an increase of solar heat produced by the fires.] but in popular belief the quickening and fertilizing influence of the bonfires is not limited to the vegetable world; it extends also to animals. this plainly appears from the irish custom of driving barren cattle through the midsummer fires,[ ] from the french belief that the yule-log steeped in water helps cows to calve,[ ] from the french and servian notion that there will be as many chickens, calves, lambs, and kids as there are sparks struck out of the yule log,[ ] from the french custom of putting the ashes of the bonfires in the fowls' nests to make the hens lay eggs,[ ] and from the german practice of mixing the ashes of the bonfires with the drink of cattle in order to make the animals thrive.[ ] further, there are clear indications that even human fecundity is supposed to be promoted by the genial heat of the fires. in morocco the people think that childless couples can obtain offspring by leaping over the midsummer bonfire.[ ] it is an irish belief that a girl who jumps thrice over the midsummer bonfire will soon marry and become the mother of many children;[ ] in flanders women leap over the midsummer fires to ensure an easy delivery;[ ] and in various parts of france they think that if a girl dances round nine fires she will be sure to marry within the year.[ ] on the other hand, in lechrain people say that if a young man and woman, leaping over the midsummer fire together, escape unsmirched, the young woman will not become a mother within twelve months:[ ] the flames have not touched and fertilized her. in parts of switzerland and france the lighting of the yule log is accompanied by a prayer that the women may bear children, the she-goats bring forth kids, and the ewes drop lambs.[ ] the rule observed in some places that the bonfires should be kindled by the person who was last married[ ] seems to belong to the same class of ideas, whether it be that such a person is supposed to receive from, or to impart to, the fire a generative and fertilizing influence. the common practice of lovers leaping over the fires hand in hand may very well have originated in a notion that thereby their marriage would be blessed with offspring; and the like motive would explain the custom which obliges couples married within the year to dance to the light of torches.[ ] and the scenes of profligacy which appear to have marked the midsummer celebration among the esthonians,[ ] as they once marked the celebration of may day among ourselves, may have sprung, not from the mere license of holiday-makers, but from a crude notion that such orgies were justified, if not required, by some mysterious bond which linked the life of man to the courses of the heavens at this turning-point of the year. [the custom of carrying lighted torches about the country at the festival may be explained as an attempt to diffuse the sun's heat.] at the festivals which we are considering the custom of kindling bonfires is commonly associated with a custom of carrying lighted torches about the fields, the orchards, the pastures, the flocks and the herds; and we can hardly doubt that the two customs are only two different ways of attaining the same object, namely, the benefits which are believed to flow from the fire, whether it be stationary or portable. accordingly if we accept the solar theory of the bonfires, we seem bound to apply it also to the torches; we must suppose that the practice of marching or running with blazing torches about the country is simply a means of diffusing far and wide the genial influence of the sunshine, of which these flickering flames are a feeble imitation. in favour of this view it may be said that sometimes the torches are carried about the fields for the express purpose of fertilizing them,[ ] and for the same purpose live coals from the bonfires are sometimes placed in the fields "to prevent blight."[ ] on the eve of twelfth day in normandy men, women, and children run wildly through the fields and orchards with lighted torches, which they wave about the branches and dash against the trunks of the fruit-trees for the sake of burning the moss and driving away the moles and field mice. "they believe that the ceremony fulfils the double object of exorcizing the vermin whose multiplication would be a real calamity, and of imparting fecundity to the trees, the fields, and even the cattle"; and they imagine that the more the ceremony is prolonged, the greater will be the crop of fruit next autumn.[ ] in bohemia they say that the corn will grow as high as they fling the blazing besoms into the air.[ ] nor are such notions confined to europe. in corea, a few days before the new year festival, the eunuchs of the palace swing burning torches, chanting invocations the while, and this is supposed to ensure bountiful crops for the next season.[ ] the custom of trundling a burning wheel over the fields, which used to be observed in poitou for the express purpose of fertilizing them,[ ] may be thought to embody the same idea in a still more graphic form; since in this way the mock-sun itself, not merely its light and heat represented by torches, is made actually to pass over the ground which is to receive its quickening and kindly influence. once more, the custom of carrying lighted brands round cattle[ ] is plainly equivalent to driving the animals through the bonfire; and if the bonfire is a sun-charm, the torches must be so also. § . _the purificatory theory of the fire-festivals_ [theory that the fires at the festivals are purificatory, being intended to burn up all harmful things.] thus far we have considered what may be said for the theory that at the european fire-festivals the fire is kindled as a charm to ensure an abundant supply of sunshine for man and beast, for corn and fruits. it remains to consider what may be said against this theory and in favour of the view that in these rites fire is employed not as a creative but as a cleansing agent, which purifies men, animals, and plants by burning up and consuming the noxious elements, whether material or spiritual, which menace all living things with disease and death. [the purificatory or destructive effect of the fires is often alleged by the people who light them; the great evil against which the fire at the festivals is directed appears to be witchcraft.] first, then, it is to be observed that the people who practise the fire-customs appear never to allege the solar theory in explanation of them, while on the contrary they do frequently and emphatically put forward the purificatory theory. this is a strong argument in favour of the purificatory and against the solar theory; for the popular explanation of a popular custom is never to be rejected except for grave cause. and in the present case there seems to be no adequate reason for rejecting it. the conception of fire as a destructive agent, which can be turned to account for the consumption of evil things, is so simple and obvious that it could hardly escape the minds even of the rude peasantry with whom these festivals originated. on the other hand the conception of fire as an emanation of the sun, or at all events as linked to it by a bond of physical sympathy, is far less simple and obvious; and though the use of fire as a charm to produce sunshine appears to be undeniable,[ ] nevertheless in attempting to explain popular customs we should never have recourse to a more recondite idea when a simpler one lies to hand and is supported by the explicit testimony of the people themselves. now in the case of the fire-festivals the destructive aspect of fire is one upon which the people dwell again and again; and it is highly significant that the great evil against which the fire is directed appears to be witchcraft. again and again we are told that the fires are intended to burn or repel the witches;[ ] and the intention is sometimes graphically expressed by burning an effigy of a witch in the fire.[ ] hence, when we remember the great hold which the dread of witchcraft has had on the popular european mind in all ages, we may suspect that the primary intention of all these fire-festivals was simply to destroy or at all events get rid of the witches, who were regarded as the causes of nearly all the misfortunes and calamities that befall men, their cattle, and their crops.[ ] [amongst the evils for which the fire-festivals are deemed remedies the foremost is cattle-disease, and cattle-disease is often supposed to be an effect of witchcraft.] this suspicion is confirmed when we examine the evils for which the bonfires and torches were supposed to provide a remedy. foremost, perhaps, among these evils we may reckon the diseases of cattle; and of all the ills that witches are believed to work there is probably none which is so constantly insisted on as the harm they do to the herds, particularly by stealing the milk from the cows.[ ] now it is significant that the need-fire, which may perhaps be regarded as the parent of the periodic fire-festivals, is kindled above all as a remedy for a murrain or other disease of cattle; and the circumstance suggests, what on general grounds seems probable, that the custom of kindling the need-fire goes back to a time when the ancestors of the european peoples subsisted chiefly on the products of their herds, and when agriculture as yet played a subordinate part in their lives. witches and wolves are the two great foes still dreaded by the herdsman in many parts of europe;[ ] and we need not wonder that he should resort to fire as a powerful means of banning them both. among slavonic peoples it appears that the foes whom the need-fire is designed to combat are not so much living witches as vampyres and other evil spirits,[ ] and the ceremony, as we saw, aims rather at repelling these baleful beings than at actually consuming them in the flames. but for our present purpose these distinctions are immaterial. the important thing to observe is that among the slavs the need-fire, which is probably the original of all the ceremonial fires now under consideration, is not a sun-charm, but clearly and unmistakably nothing but a means of protecting man and beast against the attacks of maleficent creatures, whom the peasant thinks to burn or scare by the heat of the fire, just as he might burn or scare wild animals. [again, the bonfires are thought to avert hail, thunder, lightning, and other maladies, all of which are attributed to the maleficent arts of witches.] again, the bonfires are often supposed to protect the fields against hail[ ] and the homestead against thunder and lightning.[ ] but both hail and thunderstorms are frequently thought to be caused by witches;[ ] hence the fire which bans the witches necessarily serves at the same time as a talisman against hail, thunder, and lightning. further, brands taken from the bonfires are commonly kept in the houses to guard them against conflagration;[ ] and though this may perhaps be done on the principle of homoeopathic magic, one fire being thought to act as a preventive of another, it is also possible that the intention may be to keep witch-incendiaries at bay. again, people leap over the bonfires as a preventive of colic,[ ] and look at the flames steadily in order to preserve their eyes in good health;[ ] and both colic and sore eyes are in germany, and probably elsewhere, set down to the machinations of witches.[ ] once more, to leap over the midsummer fires or to circumambulate them is thought to prevent a person from feeling pains in his back at reaping;[ ] and in germany such pains are called "witch-shots" and ascribed to witchcraft.[ ] [the burning wheels rolled down hills and the burning discs and brooms thrown into the air may be intended to burn the invisible witches.] but if the bonfires and torches of the fire-festivals are to be regarded primarily as weapons directed against witches and wizards, it becomes probable that the same explanation applies not only to the flaming discs which are hurled into the air, but also to the burning wheels which are rolled down hill on these occasions; discs and wheels, we may suppose, are alike intended to burn the witches who hover invisible in the air or haunt unseen the fields, the orchards, and the vineyards on the hillside.[ ] certainly witches are constantly thought to ride through the air on broomsticks or other equally convenient vehicles; and if they do so, how can you get at them so effectually as by hurling lighted missiles, whether discs, torches, or besoms, after them as they flit past overhead in the gloom? the south slavonian peasant believes that witches ride in the dark hail-clouds; so he shoots at the clouds to bring down the hags, while he curses them, saying, "curse, curse herodias, thy mother is a heathen, damned of god and fettered through the redeemer's blood." also he brings out a pot of glowing charcoal on which he has thrown holy oil, laurel leaves, and wormwood to make a smoke. the fumes are supposed to ascend to the clouds and stupefy the witches, so that they tumble down to earth. and in order that they may not fall soft, but may hurt themselves very much, the yokel hastily brings out a chair and tilts it bottom up so that the witch in falling may break her legs on the legs of the chair. worse than that, he cruelly lays scythes, bill-hooks and other formidable weapons edge upwards so as to cut and mangle the poor wretches when they drop plump upon them from the clouds.[ ] [on this view the fertility supposed to follow the use of fire results indirectly from breaking the spells of witches.] on this view the fertility supposed to follow the application of fire in the form of bonfires, torches, discs, rolling wheels, and so forth, is not conceived as resulting directly from an increase of solar heat which the fire has magically generated; it is merely an indirect result obtained by freeing the reproductive powers of plants and animals from the fatal obstruction of witchcraft. and what is true of the reproduction of plants and animals may hold good also of the fertility of the human sexes. we have seen that the bonfires are supposed to promote marriage and to procure offspring for childless couples. this happy effect need not flow directly from any quickening or fertilizing energy in the fire; it may follow indirectly from the power of the fire to remove those obstacles which the spells of witches and wizards notoriously present to the union of man and wife.[ ] [on the whole the theory of the purificatory or destructive intention of the fire-festivals seems the more probable.] on the whole, then, the theory of the purificatory virtue of the ceremonial fires appears more probable and more in accordance with the evidence than the opposing theory of their connexion with the sun. but europe is not the only part of the world where ceremonies of this sort have been performed; elsewhere the passage through the flames or smoke or over the glowing embers of a bonfire, which is the central feature of most of the rites, has been employed as a cure or a preventive of various ills. we have seen that the midsummer ritual of fire in morocco is practically identical with that of our european peasantry; and customs more or less similar have been observed by many races in various parts of the world. a consideration of some of them may help us to decide between the conflicting claims of the two rival theories, which explain the ceremonies as sun-charms or purifications respectively. notes: [ ] above, pp. _sq._, , , , , _sq._, . [ ] above, pp. , _sq._, , , , , _sq._, _sq._, , , . [ ] w. mannhardt, _der baumkultus der germanen und ihrer nachbarstämme_ (berlin, ), pp. _sqq._ [ ] e. westermarck, "midsummer customs in morocco," _folk-lore_, xvi. ( ) pp. _sqq.; id., the origin and development of the moral ideas_ (london, - ), i. ; _id., ceremonies and beliefs connected with agriculture, certain dates of the solar year, and the weather in morocco_ (helsingfors, ), pp. - . [ ] e. mogk, "sitten und gebräuche im kreislauf des jahres," in r. wuttke's _sächsische volkskunde_*[ ] (dresden, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] _the golden bough_, second edition (london, ), iii. : "the custom of leaping over the fire and driving cattle through it may be intended, on the one hand, to secure for man and beast a share of the vital energy of the sun, and, on the other hand, to purge them of all evil influences; for to the primitive mind fire is the most powerful of all purificatory agents"; and again, _id._ iii. : "it is quite possible that in these customs the idea of the quickening power of fire may be combined with the conception of it as a purgative agent for the expulsion or destruction of evil beings, such as witches and the vermin that destroy the fruits of the earth. certainly the fires are often interpreted in the latter way by the persons who light them; and this purgative use of the element comes out very prominently, as we have seen, in the general expulsion of demons from towns and villages. but in the present class of cases this aspect of fire may be secondary, if indeed it is more than a later misinterpretation of the custom." [ ] _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, i. _sqq_. [ ] see _adonis, attis, osiris_, second edition, pp. _sqq_. [ ] manilius, _astronom_. v. _sqq._: "_cum vero in vastos surget nemeaeus hiatus, exoriturque canis, latratque canicula flammas et rabit igne suo geminatque incendia solis, qua subdente facem terris radiosque movente_" etc. pliny, _naturalis historic_ xviii. _sq_.: "_exoritur dein post triduum fere ubique confessum inter omnes sidus ingens quod canis ortum vocamus, sole partem primam leonis ingresso. hoc fit post solstitium xxiii. die. sentiunt id maria et terrae, multae vero et ferae, ut suis locis diximus. neque est minor ei veneratio quam descriptis in deos stellis accendique solem et magnam aestus obtinet causam_." [ ] _specimens of bushman folklore_ collected by the late w.h.i. bleek, ph.d., and l.c. lloyd (london, ), pp. , . in quoting the passage i have omitted the brackets which the editors print for the purpose of indicating the words which are implied, but not expressed, in the original bushman text. [ ] "the sun is a little warm, when this star appears in winter" (editors of _specimens of bushman folklore_). [ ] "with the stick that he had held in the fire, moving it up and down quickly" (editors). [ ] "they take one arm out of the kaross, thereby exposing one shoulder blade to the sun" (editors). [ ] see above, pp. , _sq._ on the wheel as an emblem of the sun, see j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] ii. ; a. kuhn, _die herabkunft des feuers und des göttertranks_*[ ] (gütersloh, ), pp. _sqq._; h. gaidoz, "le dieu gaulois du soleil et le symbolisme de la roue," _revue archéologique_, iii. série, iv. ( ) pp. _sqq._; william simpson, _the buddhist praying wheel_ (london, ), pp. _sqq._ it is a popular armenian idea that "the body of the sun has the shape of the wheel of a water-mill; it revolves and moves forward. as drops of water sputter from the mill-wheel, so sunbeams shoot out from the spokes of the sun-wheel" (m. abeghian, _der armenische volksglaube_, leipsic, , p. ). in the old mexican picture-books the usual representation of the sun is "a wheel, often brilliant with many colours, the rays of which are so many bloodstained tongues, by means of which the sun receives his nourishment" (e.j. payne, _history of the new world called america_, oxford, , i. ). [ ] above, p. . [ ] ernst meier, _deutsche sagen, sitten und gebräuche aus schwaben_ (stuttgart, ), p. ; f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_ (munich, - ), ii. ; anton birlinger, _volksthümliches aus schwaben_ (freiburg im breisgau, - ), ii. , ; w. mannhardt, _baumkultus_, p. . [ ] compare j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. ; j.w. wolf, _beiträge zur deutschen mythologie_ (gottingen und leipsic, - ), ii. ; adalbert kuhn, _die herabkunft des feuers und des göttertranks_*[ ] (gütersloh, ), pp. _sq._, ; w. mannhardt, _baumkultus_, p. . lindenbrog in his glossary on the capitularies (quoted by j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. ) expressly says: "the rustics in many parts of germany, particularly on the festival of st. john the baptist, wrench a stake from a fence, wind a rope round it, and pull it to and fro till it catches fire. this fire they carefully feed with straw and dry sticks and scatter the ashes over the vegetable gardens, foolishly and superstitiously imagining that in this way the caterpillar can be kept off. they call such a fire _nodfeur_ or _nodfyr_, that is to say need-fire." [ ] above, pp. _sq._, _sq._, , _sq._, , , . [ ] j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] i. ; j.w. wolf, _beiträge zur deutschen mythologie_, i. ; a. kuhn, _die herabkunft des feuers_,*[ ] pp. _sq._; w. mannhardt, _baumkultus_, p. ; w.e. kelly, _curiosities of indo-european tradition and folk-lore_ (london, ), p. . [ ] a. kuhn, _die herabkunft des feuers und des göttertranks_*[ ] (gütersloh, ), p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] f. panzer, _beitrag zur deutschen mythologie_ (munich, - ), ii. , § . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, pp. _sq._ [ ] above, pp. _sq._ [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] l. decle, _three years in savage africa_ (london, ), pp. _sq._ [ ] rev. j. shooter, _the kafirs of natal and the zulu country_ (london, ), p. . [ ] above, pp. , . [ ] above, pp. , , , , . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, pp. , , , , , , . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, pp. , , , , , . [ ] above, pp. , _sq._ [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, pp. , , , . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. , ; compare p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, pp. , . [ ] above, pp. , , , ; compare pp. , , . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] above, pp. , , , . the torches of demeter, which figure so largely in her myth and on her monuments, are perhaps to be explained by this custom. see _spirits of the corn and of the wild_, i. . w. mannhardt thought (_baumkultus_, p. ) that the torches in the modern european customs are imitations of lightning. at some of their ceremonies the indians of north-west america imitate lightning by means of pitch-wood torches which are flashed through the roof of the house. see j.g. swan, quoted by franz boas, "the social organization and the secret societies of the kwakiutl indians," _report of the united states national museum for _ (washington, ), p. . [ ] above, p. . [ ] amélie bosquet, _la normandie romanesque et merveilleuse_ (paris and rouen, ), pp. _sq._; jules lecoeur, _esquisses du bocage normand_ (condé-sur-noireau, - ), ii. - . see _the scapegoat_, pp. _sq._ [ ] br. jelínek, "materialen zur vorgeschichte mid volkskunde böhmens," _mittheilungen der anthropolog. gesellschaft in wien_ xxi. ( ) p. note. [ ] mrs. bishop, _korea and her neighbours_ (london, ), ii. _sq._ [ ] above, pp. _sq._ [ ] above, pp. , , . [ ] see _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, i. _sqq._ [ ] above, pp. , , , _sq._, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , _sq._, , , , , , , , . for more evidence of the use of fire to burn or expel witches on certain days of the year, see _the scapegoat_ pp. _sqq._ less often the fires are thought to burn or repel evil spirits and vampyres. see above, pp. , , , , , , . sometimes the purpose of the fires is to drive away dragons (above, pp. , ). [ ] above, pp. , , _sq._, . [ ] "in short, of all the ills incident to the life of man, none are so formidable as witchcraft, before the combined influence of which, to use the language of an honest man who had himself severely suffered from its effects, the great laird of grant himself could not stand them if they should fairly yoke upon him" (w. grant stewart, _the popular superstitions and festive amusements of the highlanders of scotland_, edinburgh, , pp. _sq._). "every misfortune and calamity that took place in the parish, such as ill-health, the death of friends, the loss of stock, and the failure of crops; yea to such a length did they carry their superstition, that even the inclemency of the seasons, were attributed to the influence of certain old women who were supposed to be in league, and had dealings with the devil. these the common people thought had the power and too often the inclination to injure their property, and torment their persons" (_county folklore_, vol. v. _lincolnshire_, collected by mrs. gutch and mabel peacock, london, , p. ). "the county of salop is no exception to the rule of superstition. the late vicar of a parish on the clee hills, startled to find that his parishioners still believed in witchcraft, once proposed to preach a sermon against it, but he was dissuaded from doing so by the parish schoolmaster, who assured him that the belief was so deeply rooted in the people's minds that he would be more likely to alienate them from the church than to weaken their faith in witchcraft" (miss c.f. burne and miss g.f. jackson, _shropshire folk-lore_, london, , p. ). "wherever a man or any living creature falls sick, or a misfortune of any kind happens, without any natural cause being discoverable or rather lying on the surface, there in all probability witchcraft is at work. the sudden stiffness in the small of the back, which few people can account for at the time, is therefore called a 'witch-shot' and is really ascribed to witchcraft" (l. strackerjan, _aberglaube und sagen aus dem herzogthum oldenburg_, oldenburg, , i. p. , § ). what sir walter scott said less than a hundred years ago is probably still true: "the remains of the superstition sometimes occur; there can be no doubt that the vulgar are still addicted to the custom of scoring above the breath (as it is termed), and other counter-spells, evincing that the belief in witchcraft is only asleep, and might in remote corners be again awakened to deeds of blood" (_letters on demonology and witchcraft_, london, , p. ). compare l. strackerjan, _op. cit._ i. p. , § : "the great power, the malicious wickedness of the witches, cause them to be feared and hated by everybody. the hatred goes so far that still at the present day you may hear it said right out that it is a pity burning has gone out of fashion, for the evil crew deserve nothing else. perhaps the hatred might find vent yet more openly, if the fear were not so great." [ ] for some evidence, see _the magic art and the evolution of kings_; ii. - , _sqq._ it is a popular belief, universally diffused in germany, that cattle-plagues are caused by witches (a. wuttke, _der deutsche volksaberglaube_,*[ ] berlin, , p. § ). the scotch highlanders thought that a witch could destroy the whole of a farmer's live stock by hiding a small bag, stuffed with charms, in a cleft of the stable or byre (w. grant stewart, _the popular superstitions and festive amusements of the highlanders of scotland_, edinburgh, , pp. _sq._). [ ] _the magic art and the evolution of kings_, ii. _sqq._ [ ] above, pp. , _sq._ [ ] above, pp. , , , , . [ ] above, pp. , , , _sq._, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . [ ] j. grimm, _deutsch mythologie_,*[ ] ii. _sqq._; j.v. grohmann, _aberglauben und gebräuche aus böhmen und mähren_ (prague and leipsic, ), p. § ; a. wuttke, _der deutsche volksaberglaube_*[ ] (berlin, ), pp. _sq._, § ; j. ceredig davies, _folk-lore of west and mid-wales_ (aberystwyth, ), p. ; alois john, _sitte, branch und volksglaube im deutschen westböhmen_ (prague, ), p. . [ ] above, pp. , , , , , , , , , , , . [ ] above, pp. , _sq._ [ ] above, pp. , , , , . [ ] a. wuttke, _der deutsche volksaberglaube_*[ ] (berlin, ), p. , § . [ ] above, pp. , , , compare . [ ] a. wuttke, _der deutsche volksaberglaube_*[ ] (berlin, ), p. , § ; l. strackerjan, _aberglaube und sagen aus dem herzogthum oldenburg_ (oldenburg, ), i. p. , § . see above, p. note. [ ] in the ammerland, a district of oldenburg, you may sometimes see an old cart-wheel fixed over the principal door or on the gable of a house; it serves as a charm against witchcraft and is especially intended to protect the cattle as they are driven out and in. see l. strackerjan, _aberglaube und sagen aus dem herzogthum oldenburg_ (oldenburg, ), i. p. , § . can this use of a wheel as a talisman against witchcraft be derived from the practice of rolling fiery wheels down hill for a similar purpose? [ ] f.s. krauss, _volksglaube und religiöser brauch der südslaven_ (münster i. w., ), pp. _sq._ [ ] in german such spells are called _nestelknüpfen_; in french, _nouer l'aiguilette_. see j. grimm, _deutsche mythologie_,*[ ] ii. , ; a. wuttke, _der deutsche volksaberglaube_*[ ] (berlin, ), p. § ; k. doutté, _magic et religion dans l'afrique du nord_ (algiers, ), pp. _sq._, _sqq._; j.l.m. noguès, _les moeurs d'autrefois en saintonge et en aunis_ (saintes, ), pp. _sq._ myth, ritual and religion volume ii. by andrew lang longmans, green, and co. paternoster row, london new york and bombay first printed, august, myth, ritual and religion chapter xii. gods of the lowest races. savage religion mysterious--why this is so--australians in --sir john lubbock--roskoff--evidence of religion--mr. manning--mr. howitt--supreme beings--mr. tylor's theory of borrowing--reply--morality sanctioned--its nature--satirical rite--"our father"--mr. ridley on a creator--mr. langloh parker--dr. roth--conclusion--australians' religious. the science of anthropology can speak, with some confidence, on many questions of mythology. materials are abundant and practically undisputed, because, as to their myths, savage races have spoken out with freedom. myth represents, now the early scientific, now the early imaginative and humorous faculty, playing freely round all objects of thought: even round the superhuman beings of belief. but, as to his religion, the savage by no means speaks out so freely. religion represents his serious mood of trust, dependence or apprehension. in certain cases the ideas about superhuman makers and judges are veiled in mysteries, rude sketches of the mysteries of greece, to which the white man is but seldom admitted. in other cases the highest religious conceptions of the people are in a state of obsolescence, are subordinated to the cult of accessible minor deities, and are rarely mentioned. while sacrifice or service again is done to the lower objects of faith (ghosts or gods developed out of ghosts) the supreme being, in a surprising number of instances, is wholly unpropitiated. having all things, he needs nothing (at all events gets nothing) at men's hands except obedience to his laws; being good, he is not feared; or being obsolescent (superseded, as it seems, by deities who can be bribed) he has shrunk to the shadow of a name. of the gods too good and great to need anything, the ahone of the red men in virginia, or the dendid of the african dinkas, is an example. of the obsolescent god, now but a name, the atahocan of the hurons was, while the "lord in heaven" of the zulus is, an instance. among the relatively supreme beings revealed only in the mysteries, the gods of many australian tribes are deserving of observation. for all these reasons, mystery, absence of sacrifice or idol, and obsolescence, the religion of savages is a subject much more obscure than their mythology. the truth is that anthropological inquiry is not yet in a position to be dogmatic; has not yet knowledge sufficient for a theory of the origins of religion, and the evolution of belief from its lowest stages and earliest germs. nevertheless such a theory has been framed, and has been already stated. we formulated the objections to this current hypothesis, and observed that its defenders must take refuge in denying the evidence as to low savage religions, or, if the facts be accepted, must account for them by a theory of degradation, or by a theory of borrowing from christian sources. that the australians are not degenerate we demonstrated, and we must now give reasons for holding that their religious conceptions are not borrowed from europeans. the australians, when observed by dampier on the north-west coast in , seemed "the miserablest people in the world," without houses, agriculture, metals, or domesticated animals.* in this condition they still remain, when not under european influence. dampier, we saw, noted peculiarities: "be it little or much they get, every one has his part, as well the young and tender as the old and feeble, who are not able to go abroad, as the strong and lusty". this kind of justice or generosity, or unselfishness, is still inculcated in the religious mysteries of some of the race. generosity is certainly one of the native's leading features. he is always accustomed to give a share of his food, or of what he may possess, to his fellows. it may be, of course, objected to this that in doing so he is only following an old-established custom, the breaking of which would expose him to harsh treatment and to being looked on as a churlish fellow. it will, however, be hardly denied that, as this custom expresses the idea that, in this particular matter, every one is supposed to act in a kindly way towards certain individuals: the very existence of such a custom, even if it be only carried out in the hope of securing at some time a _quid pro quo_, shows that the native is alive to the fact that an action which benefits some one else is worthy to be performed.... * early voyages to australia, pp. - . hakluyt society. it is with the native a fixed habit to give away part of what he has."* the authors of this statement do not say that the duty is inculcated, in central australia, under religious sanction, in the tribal mysteries. this, however, is the case among the kurnai, and some tribes of victoria and new south wales.** since dampier found the duty practised as early as , it will scarcely be argued that the natives adopted this course of what should be christian conduct from their observations of christian colonists. the second point which impressed dampier was that men and women, old and young, all lacked the two front upper teeth. among many tribes of the natives of new south wales and victoria, the boys still have their front teeth knocked out, when initiated, but the custom does not prevail (in ritual) where circumcision and another very painful rite are practised, as in central australia and central queensland. dampier's evidence shows how little the natives have changed in two hundred years. yet evidence of progress may be detected, perhaps, as we have already shown. but one fact, perhaps of an opposite bearing, must be noted. a singular painting, in a cave, of a person clothed in a robe of red, reaching to the feet, with sleeves, and with a kind of halo (or set of bandages) round the head, remains a mystery, like similar figures with blue halos or bandages, clothed and girdled. none of the figures had mouths; otherwise, in sir george grey's sketches, they have a remote air of cimabue's work.*** these designs were by men familiar with clothing, whether their own, or that of strangers observed by them, though in one case an unclothed figure carries a kangaroo. at present the natives draw with much spirit, when provided with european materials, as may be seen in mrs. langloh parker's two volumes of _australian legendary tales_. their decorative patterns vary in character in different parts of the continent, but nowhere do they now execute works like those in the caves discovered by sir george grey. the reader must decide for himself how far these monuments alone warrant an inference of great degeneration in australia, or are connected with religion. * spencer and gillen, natives of central australia, p. . ** howitt, journal anthrop. inst., , p. . *** grey's journals of expeditions of discovery in north- west and western australia, in the years - , vol i., pp. - . sir george regarded the pictures as perhaps very ancient. the natives "chaffed" him when he asked for traditions on the subject. such are the australians, men without kings or chiefs, and what do we know of their beliefs? the most contradictory statements about their religion may be found in works of science mr. huxley declared that "their theology is a mere belief in the existence, powers and dispositions (usually malignant) of ghost-like entities who may be propitiated or scared away; but no cult can be properly said to exist. and in this stage theology is wholly independent of ethics." this, he adds, is "theology in its simplest condition". in a similar sense, sir john lubbock writes: "the australians have no idea of creation, nor do they use prayers; they have no religious forms, ceremonies or worship. they do not believe in the existence of a deity, nor is morality in any way connected with their religion, if it can be so called."* * lubbock, origin of civilisation, p. , . in , for "a deity" "a true deity". this remark must be compared with another in the same work ( , p. ). "mr. ridley, indeed,... states that they have a traditional belief in one supreme creator, called baiamai, but he admits that most of the witnesses who were examined before the select committee appointed by the legislative council of victoria in to report on the aborigines, gave it as their opinion that the natives had no religious ideas. it appears, moreover, from a subsequent remark, that baiamai only possessed 'traces' of the three attributes of the god of the bible, eternity, omnipotence and goodness".* * cf. j. a. i., , - . mr. ridley, an accomplished linguist who had lived with wild blacks in - , in fact, said long ago, that the australian _bora_, or mystery, "involves the idea of dedication to god ". he asked old billy murri bundur whether men _worshipped_ baiame at the bora? "of course they do," said billy. mr. ridley, to whose evidence we shall return, was not the only affirmative witness. archdeacon gunther had no doubt that baiame was equivalent to the supreme being, "a remnant of original traditions," and it was mr. günther, not mr. ridley, who spoke of "traces" of baiame's eternity, omnipotence and goodness. mr. ridley gave similar reports from evidence collected by the committee of . he found the higher creeds most prominent in the interior, hundreds of miles from the coast. apparently the reply of gustav roskoff to sir john lubbock ( ) did not alter that writer's opinion. roskoff pointed out that waitz-gerland, while denying that australian beliefs were derived from any higher culture, denounced the theory that they have no religion as "entirely false". "belief in a good being is found in south australia, new south wales, and the centre of the south-eastern continent."* the opinion of waitz is highly esteemed, and that not merely because, as mr. max müller has pointed out, he has edited greek classical works. _avec du grec on nepeut gâter rien_. mr. oldfield, in addition to bogles and a water-spirit, found biam (baiame) and namba-jundi, who admits souls into his paradise, while warnyura torments the bad under earth.** mr. eyre, publishing in , gives baiame (on the morrum-bidgee, biam; on the murray, biam-vaitch-y) as a source of songs sung at dances, and a cause of disease. he is deformed, sits cross-legged, or paddles a canoe. on the murray he found a creator, noorele, "all powerful, and of benevolent character," with three unborn sons, dwelling "up among the clouds". souls of dead natives join them in the skies. nevertheless "the natives, as far as yet can be ascertained, have no religious belief or ceremonies"; and, though noorele is credited with "the origin of creation," "he made the earth, trees, water, etc.," a deity, or great first cause, "can hardly be said to be acknowledged".*** * waitz-gerland, anthropologic, vi. et seq. ** oldfield, translations of ethnol. soc., iii. . on this evidence i lay no stress. *** eyre, journals, ii. pp. - . such are the consistent statements of mr. eyre! roskoff also cites mr. ridley, braim, cunningham, dawson, and other witnesses, as opposed to sir john lubbock, and he includes mr. tylor.* mr. tylor, later, found baiame, or pei-a-mei, no earlier in literature than about , in mr. hale's _united states exploring expedition?_ previous to that date, baiame, it seems, was unknown to mr. threlkeld, whose early works are of - . he only speaks of koin, a kind of goblin, and for lack of a native name for god, mr. threlkeld tried to introduce jehova-ka-biruê, and eloi, but failed. mr. tylor, therefore, appears to suppose that the name, baiame, and, at all events, his divine qualities, were introduced by missionaries, apparently between and .*** to this it must be replied that mr. hale, about , writes that "when the missionaries first came to wellington" (mr. threlkeld's own district) "baiame was worshipped there with songs". "these songs or hymns, _according to mr. threlkeld_, were passed on from a considerable distance. it is notorious that songs and dances are thus passed on, till they reach tribes who do not even know the meaning of the words."**** * roskoff, das religionstoesen der rohesten naturvolher, pp. - . ** ethnology and philology, p. . . *** tylor, the limits of savage religion, j. a. i., vol. xxi. . **** roth, natives of n.-w. central queensland, p. . in this way baiame songs had reached wellington before the arrival of the missionaries, and for this fact mr. threlkeld (who is supposed not to have known baiame) is mr. hale's authority. in mr. tylor's opinion (as i understand it) the word baiame was the missionary translation of our word "creator," and derived from _baia_ "to make". now, mr. ridley says that mr. greenway "discovered" this _baia_ to be the root of baiame. but what missionary introduced the word before ? not mr. threlkeld, for he (according to mr. tylor), did not know the word, and he tried eloi, and jehova-ka-biru£, while immanueli was also tried and also failed* baiame, known in , does not occur in a missionary primer before mr. ridley's _gurre kamilaroi_ ( ), so the missionary primer did not launch baiame before the missionaries came to wellington. according to mr. hale, the baiame songs were brought by blacks from a distance (we know how greek mysteries were also _colportés_ to new centres), and the yearly rite had, in , been for three years in abeyance. moreover, the etymology, _baia_ "to make" has a competitor in "byamee = big man".** thus baiame, as a divine being, preceded the missionaries, and is not a word of missionary manufacture, while sacred words really of missionary manufacture do not find their way into native tradition. mr. hale admits that the ideas about baiame may "possibly" be of european origin, though the great reluctance of the blacks to adopt any opinion from europeans makes against that theory.*** * ridley, speaking of . lang's queensland, p. . ** mrs. langloh parker, more australian legendary tales. . glossary. *** op. cit., p. . it may be said that, if baiame was premissionary, his higher attributes date after mr. ridley's labours, abandoned for lack of encouragement in . in , mr. hale found baiame located in an isle of the seas, like circe, living on fish which came to his call. some native theologians attributed creation to his son, burambin, the demiurge, a common savage form of gnosticism. on the nature of baiame, we have, however, some curious early evidence of - . mr. james manning, in these years, and earlier, lived "near the outside boundaries of settlers to the south". a conversation with goethe, when the poet was eighty-five, induced him to study the native beliefs. "no missionaries," he writes, "ever came to the southern district at any time, and it was not till many years later that they landed in sydney on their way to moreton bay, to attempt, in vain, to christianise the blacks of that locality, before the queensland separation from this colony took place." mr. manning lost his notes of , but recovered a copy from a set lent to lord audley, and read them, in november, , to the royal society of new south wales. the notes are of an extraordinary character, and mr. manning, perhaps unconsciously, exaggerated their christian analogies, by adopting christian terminology. dean cowper, however, corroborated mr. manning's general opinion, by referring to evidence of archdeacon gunther, who sent a grammar, with remarks on "bhaime, or bhaiame," from wellington to mr. max müller. "he received his information, he told me, from some of the oldest blacks, who, he was satisfied, could not have derived their ideas from white men, as they had not then had intercourse with them." old savages are not apt to be in a hurry to borrow european notions. mr. manning also averred that he obtained his information with the greatest difficulty. "they required such secrecy on my part, and seemed so afraid of being heard even in the most secret places, that, in one or two cases, i have seen them almost tremble in speaking." one native, after carefully examining doors and windows, "stood in a wooden fireplace, and spoke in a tone little above a whisper, and confirmed what i had before heard". another stipulated that silence must be observed, otherwise the european hands might question his wife, in which case he would be obliged to kill her. mr. howitt also found that the name of darumulun (in religion) is too sacred to be spoken except almost in whispers, while the total exclusion of women from mysteries and religious knowledge, on pain of death, is admitted to be universal among the tribes.* such secrecy, so widely diffused, is hardly compatible with humorous imposture by the natives. there is an element of humour in all things. mr. manning, in , appealed to his friend, mr. mann, to give testimony to the excellency of black andy, the native from whom he derived most of his notes, which were corroborated by other black witnesses. mr. mann arose and replied that "he had never met one aborigine who had any true belief in a supreme being". on cross-examination, they always said that they had got their information from a missionary or other resident. black andy was not alluded to by mr. mann, who regarded all these native religious ideas as filtrations from european sources. mr. palmer, on the other hand, corroborated mr. manning, who repeated the expression of his convictions.** such, then, is the perplexed condition of the evidence. * howitt,. . a. i., xiii. . ** mr. mann told a story of native magic, viewed by himself, which might rouse scepticism among persons not familiar with what these conjurers can do. it may be urged that the secrecy and timidity of mr. manning's informants, corresponding with mr. howitt's experience, makes for the affirmative side; that, in , when mr. manning made his notes, missionaries were scarce, and that a native "cross-examined" by the sceptical and jovial mr. mann, would probably not contradict. (lubbock, o. of c. p. .) confidence is only won by sympathy, and one inquirer will get authentic legends and folklore from a celt, while another of the ordinary english type will totally fail on this point mr. manning says: "sceptics should consider how easy it might be for intelligent men to pass almost a lifetime among the blacks in any quarter of this continent without securing the confidence even of the best of the natives around them, through whom they might possibly become acquainted with their religious secrets, secrets which they dare not reveal to their own women at all, nor to their adult youths until the latter have been sworn to reticence under that terrifying ceremony which my notes describe". in the same way mrs. langloh parker found that an european neighbour would ask, "but have the blacks any legends?" and we have cited mr. hartt on the difficulty of securing legends on the amazon, while mr. sproat had to live long among, and become very intimate with, the tribes of british columbia, before he could get any information about their beliefs. thus, the present writer is disinclined to believe that the intelligence offered to mr. manning with shy secrecy in was wholly a native copy of recently acquired hints on religion derived from europeans, especially as mr. howitt, who had lived long among the kurnai, and had written copiously on them, knew nothing of their religion, before, about , he was initiated and admitted to the knowledge like that of mr. manning in the theory of borrowing is also checked by the closely analogous savage beliefs reported from north america before a single missionary had arrived, and from africa. for the australian, african and american ideas have a common point of contact, not easily to be explained as deduced from christianity. according, then, to mr. manning, the natives believed in a being called boyma, who dwells in heaven, "immovably fixed in a crystal rock, with only the upper half of a supernatural body visible". now, about , a native described baiame to mr. howitt as "a very great old man with a beard," and with crystal pillars growing out of his shoulders which prop up a supernal sky. this vision of baiame was seen by the native, apparently as a result of the world-wide practice of crystal-gazing.* mr. tylor suspects "the old man with the beard" as derived from christian artistic representations, but old men are notoriously the most venerated objects among the aborigines. turning now to mrs. langloh parker's _more australian legendary tales_ (p. ), we find byamee "fixed to the crystal rock on which he sat in bullimah" (paradise). are we to suppose that some savage caught at christian teaching, added this feature of the crystal rock from "the glassy sea" of the apocalpyse, or from the great white throne, and succeeded in securing wide acceptance and long persistence for a notion borrowed from europeans? is it likely that the chief opponents of christianity everywhere, the wirreenuns or sorcerers, would catch at the idea, introduce it into the conservative ritual of the mysteries, and conceal it from women and children who are as open as adults to missionary influence? yet from native women and children the belief is certainly concealed. * j. a. i., xvi. p. , . mr. manning, who prejudices his own case by speaking of boyma as "the almighty," next introduces us to a "son of god" equal to the father as touching his omniscience, and otherwise but slightly inferior. mr. eyre had already reported on the unborn sons of noorele, "there is no mother". the son of boyma's name is grogoragally. he watches over conduct, and takes the good to ballima (bullimah in mrs. langloh parker), the bad to oorooma, the place of fire (gumby). mr. eyre had attested similar ideas of future life of the souls with noorele. (eyre, ii. .) in mrs. langloh parker's book a messenger is called "the all-seeing spirit," apparently identical with her wallahgooroonbooan, whose voice is heard in the noise of the _tundun_, or bull-roarer, used in the mysteries.* * more legendary tales, p. . grogoragally is unborn of any mother. he is represented by mr. manning as a mediator between boyma and the race of men. here our belief is apt to break down, and most people will think that black andy was a well-instructed christian catechumen. this occurred to mr. manning, who put it plainly to andy. he replied that the existence of names in the native language for the sacred persons and places proved that they were not of european origin. "white fellow no call budgery place (paradise) 'ballima,' or other place 'oorooma,' nor god 'boyma,' nor son 'grogoragally,' only we black fellow think and call them that way in our own language, before white fellow came into the country." a son or deputy of the chief divine being is, in fact, found among the kurnai and in other tribes. he directs the mysteries. here, then, andy is backed by mr. howitt's aboriginal friends. their deity sanctioned morality "before the white men came to melbourne" ( ) and was called "our father" at the same date.* several old men insisted on this, as a matter of their own knowledge. they were initiated before the arrival of europeans. archdeacon gunther received the same statements from old aborigines, and mr. palmer, speaking of other notions of tribes of the north, is perfectly satisfied that none of their ideas were derived from the whites.** in any case, black andy's intelligence and logic are far beyond what most persons attribute to his race. if we disbelieve him, it must be on the score, i think, that he consciously added european ideas to names of native origin. on the other hand, analogous ideas, not made so startling as in mr. manning's christian terminology, are found in many parts of australia. * j. a., xiii. p. , , ** op. cit., p. . mr. manning next cites moodgeegally, the first man, immortal, a culture hero, and a messenger of boyma's. there are a kind of rather mediaeval fiends, waramolong, who punish the wicked (murderers, liars and breakers of marriage laws) in gumby. women do not go to ballima, boyma being celibate, and women know nothing of all these mysteries; certainly this secrecy is not an idea of christian origin. if women get at the secret, the whole race must be exterminated, men going mad and slaying each other. this notion we shall see is corroborated. but if missionaries taught the ideas, women must know all about them already. mr. manning's information was confirmed by a black from miles away, who called grogoragally by the name of boymagela. there are no prayers, except for the dead at burial: corroborated by mrs. langloh parker's beautiful legend of eerin. "byamee," the mourners cry, "let in the spirit of eerin to bullimah. save him from eleanbah wundah, abode of the wicked. for eerin was faithful on earth, faithful to the laws you left us!"* the creed is taught to boys when initiated, with a hymn which mr. manning's informant dared not to reveal. he said angrily that mr. manning already knew more than any other white man. now, to invent a hymn could not have been beyond the powers of this remarkable savage, black andy. the "sons" of baiame answer, we have seen, to those ascribed to noorele, in mr. eyre's book. they also correspond to daramulun where he is regarded as the son of baiame, while the culture hero, moodgeegally, founder of the mysteries, answers to tundun, among the kurnai.** we have, too, in australia, dawed, a subordinate where mangarrah is the maker in the larrakeah tribe.*** * more australian tales, p. . ** howitt, j. a. /., , p. . *** j. a. i., nov., , p. . in some cases, responsibility for evil, pain, and punishment, are shifted from the good maker on to the shoulders of his subordinate. this is the case, in early virginia, with okeus, the subordinate of the creator, the good ahone.* we have also, in west africa, the unpropitiated nyankupon, with his active subordinate, who has human sacrifices, bobowissi;** and mulungu, in central africa, "possesses many powerful servants, but is himself kept a good deal behind the scenes of earthly affairs, like the gods of epicurus".*** the analogy, as to the son, interpreter of the divine will, in apollo and zeus (certainly not of christian origin!) is worth observing. in the andaman islands, mr. mann, after long and minute inquiry from the previously un-contaminated natives, reports on an only son of puluga, "a sort of archangel," who alone is permitted to live with his father, whose orders it is his duty to make known to the _moro-win_, his sisters, ministers of puluga, the angels, that is, inferior ministers of puluga's will.**** * william strachey, hakluyt society, chapter vii., date, . ** ellis, religion of the tshi-speaking races. *** macdonald, africana, vol. i. p. . ****j. a. i., xii. p. . it is for science to determine how far this startling idea of the son is a natural result of a desire to preserve the remote and somewhat inaccessible and otiose dignity of the supreme being from the exertion of activity; and how far it is a savage refraction of missionary teaching, even where it seems to be anterior to missionary influences, which, with these races, have been almost a complete failure. the subject abounds in difficulty, but the sceptic must account for the marvellously rapid acceptance of the european ideas by the most conservative savage class, the doctors or sorcerers; for the admission of the ideas into the most conservative of savage institutions, the mysteries; for the extreme reticence about the ideas in presence of the very europeans from whom they are said to have been derived; and in some cases for the concealment of the ideas from the women, who, one presumes, are as open as the men to missionary teaching. it is very easy to talk of "borrowing," not so easy to explain these points on the borrowing theory, above all, when evidence is frequent that the ideas preceded the arrival of christian teachers. on this crucial point, the question of borrowing, i may cite mr. mann as to the andamanese beliefs. mr. mann was for eleven years in the islands, and for four years superintended our efforts to "reclaim" some natives. he is well acquainted with the south andaman dialect, and has made studies of the other forms of the language. this excellent witness writes: "it is extremely improbable that their legends were the result of the teaching of missionaries or others". they have no tradition of any foreign arrivals, and their reputation (undeserved) as cannibals, with their ferocity to invaders, "precludes the belief" that any one ever settled there to convert or instruct them. "moreover, to regard with suspicion, as some have done, the genuineness of such legends argues ignorance of the fact that numerous other tribes, in equally remote or isolated localities, have, when first discovered, been found to possess similar traditions on the subject under consideration," further, "i have taken special care not only to obtain my information on each point from those who are considered by their fellow tribesmen as authorities, but [also from those] who, from having had little or no intercourse with other races, were in entire ignorance regarding any save their own legends," which, "they all agree in stating, were handed down to them by their first parent, to-mo, and his immediate descendants".* what mr. mann says concerning the unborrowed character of andaman beliefs applies, of course, to the yet more remote and inaccessible natives of australia. in what has been, and in what remains to be said, it must be remembered that the higher religious ideas attributed to the australians are not their only ideas in this matter. examples of their wild myths have already been offered, they are totemists, too, and fear, though they do not propitiate, ghosts. vague spirits unattached are also held in dread, and inspire sorcerers and poets,** as also does the god bunjil.*** * j. a. i., xii. pp. , . ** ibid.y xvi., pp. , . on bunjil. *** in folk-lore, december, , will be found an essay, mr. hartland, on my account of australian gods. instancing many wild or comic myths (some of them unknown to me when i wrote 'the making of religion'), mr. hartland seems to argue that these destroy the sacredness of other coexisting native beliefs of a higher kind. but, on this theory, what religion is sacred? all have contradictory myths. see introduction. turning from early accounts of australian religion, say from to , we look at the more recent reports. the best evidence is that of mr. howitt, who, with mr. fison, laid the foundations of serious australian anthropology in _kamilaroi and kurnai_ ( ). in , mr. howitt, though long and intimately familiar with the tribes of gippsland, the yarra, the upper murray, the murumbidgee, and other districts, had found no trace of belief in a moral supreme being. he was afterwards, however, initiated, or less formally let into the secret, by two members of brajerak (wild) black fellows, not of the same tribe as the kurnai. the rites of these former aborigines are called kuringal. their supreme being is daramulun "believed in from the sea-coast across to the northern boundary claimed by the wolgal, about yass and gundagai, and from omeo to at least as far as the shoalhaven river.... he was not, as it seems to me, everywhere thought to be a malevolent being, but he was dreaded as one who could severely punish the trespasses committed against these tribal ordinances and customs, whose first institution is ascribed to him.... it was taught also that daramulun himself watched the youths from the sky, prompt to punish by sickness or death the breach of his ordinances." these are often mere taboos; an old man said: "i could not eat emu's eggs. _he_ would be very angry, and perhaps i should die." it will hardly be argued that the savages have recently borrowed from missionaries this conception of daramulun, as the originator and guardian of tribal taboos. opponents must admit him as of native evolution in that character at least. the creed of daramulun is not communicated to women and children. "it is said that the women among the ngarego and wolgal knew only that a great being lived beyond the sky, and that he was spoken of by them as papang (father). this seemed to me when i first heard it to bear so suspicious a resemblance to a belief derived from the white men, that i thought it necessary to make careful and repeated inquiries. my ngarego and wolgal informants, two of them old men, strenuously maintained that it was so before the white men came." they themselves only learned the doctrine when initiated, as boys, by the old men of that distant day. the name daramulun, was almost whispered to mr. howitt, and phrases were used such as "he," "the man," "the name i told you of". the same secrecy was preserved by a woi-worung man about bunjil, or pund-jel, "though he did not show so much reluctance when repeating to me the 'folk-lore' in which the 'great spirit' of the kulin plays a part". "he" was used, or gesture signs were employed by this witness, who told how his grandfather had warned him that bunjil watched his conduct from a star, "he can see you and all you do down here,"--"before the white men came to melbourne." ( ).* * j. a. i.f xiii, , pp. , . are we to believe that this mystic secrecy is kept up, as regards white men, about a being first heard of from white men? and is it credible that the "old men," the holders of tribal traditions, and the most conservative of mortals, would borrow a new divinity from "the white devils," conceal the doctrine from the women (as accessible to missionary teaching as themselves), adopt the new being as the founder of the antique mysteries, and introduce him into the central rite? and can the natives have done so steadily, ever since about at least? to believe all this is to illustrate the credulity of scepticism. mr. howitt adds facts about tribes "from twofold bay to sydney, and as far west, at least, as hay". here, too, daramulun instituted the rites; his voice is heard in the noise of the whirling _mudji_ (bull-roarer). "the muttering of thunder is said to be his voice 'calling to the rain to fall, and make the grass grow up green'." such are "the very words of umbara, the minstrel of the tribe".* at the rites, respect for age, for truth, for unprotected women and married women, and other details of sexual morality, is inculcated partly in obscene dances. a magic ceremony, resembling mesmeric passes, and accompanied by the word "good" (_nga_) is meant to make the boys acceptable to daramulun. a temporary image of him is made on raised earth (to be destroyed after the rites), his attributes are then explained. "this is the master (biamban) who can go anywhere and do anything."** an old man is buried, and rises again. "this ceremony is most impressive." "the opportunity is taken of impressing on the mind of youth, in an indelible manner, those rules of conduct which form the moral law of the tribe." "there is clearly a belief in a great spirit, or rather an anthropomorphic supernatural being, the master of all, whose abode is above, the sky, and to whom are attributed powers of omnipotence and omnipresence, or, at any rate, the power to do anything and go anywhere.... to his direct ordinance are attributed the social and moral laws of the community." mr. howitt ends, "i venture to assert that it can no longer be maintained that [the australians] have no belief which can be called religious--that is, in the sense of beliefs which govern tribal and individual morality under a supernatural sanction".*** * j. a. i., , p. . ** op. cit., p. . *** j. a. i., , p. . among the rites is one which "is said to be intended to teach the boys to speak the straightforward truth, and the kabos (mystagogues) thus explain it to them ".* it is, perhaps, unfortunate that mr. howitt does not give a full account of what the morality thus sanctioned includes. respect for age, for truth, for unprotected women, and for nature (as regards avoiding certain unnatural vices) are alone spoken of, in addition to taboos which have no relation to developed morality. mr. palmer, in speaking of the morality inculcated in the mysteries of the northern australians, adds to the elements of ethics mentioned by mr. howitt in the south, the lesson "not to be quarrelsome". to each lad is given, "by one of the elders, advice so kindly, fatherly and impressive, as often to soften the heart, and draw tears from the youth".** * j. a. ., xiii. . ** ibid., xlii . so far, the morality religiously sanctioned is such as men are likely to evolve, and probably no one will maintain that it must have been borrowed from europeans. it is argued that the morality is only such as the tribes would naturally develop, mainly in the interests of the old (the ruling class) and of social order (hart-land, _op. cit_. pp. - ). what else did any one ever suppose the _mores_ of a people to be, _plus_ whatever may be allowed for the effects of kindliness, or love, which certainly exists? i never hinted at morals divinely and supernormally revealed. all morality had been denied to the australians. yet in the religious rites they are "taught to speak the straightforward truth"! as regards women, there are parts of australia where disgusting laxity prevails, except in cases prohibited by the extremely complex rules of forbidden degrees. such parts are central australia and north-west central queensland.* another point in mr. howitt's evidence deserves notice. he at first wrote "the supreme being who is believed in by all the tribes i refer to here, either as a benevolent or more frequently as a malevolent being, it seems to me represents the defunct headman ". we have seen that mr. howitt came to regard "malevolence" as merely the punitive aspect of the "supreme being ". as to the theory that such a being represents a dead headman, no proof is anywhere given that ghosts of headmen are in any way propitiated. even "corpse-feeding" was represented to mr. dawson by intelligent old blacks, as "white fellows' gammon".** mrs. langloh parker writes to me that she, when she began to study the blacks, "had, i must allow, a prejudice in favour of mr. herbert spencer's theory--it seemed so rational, but, accepting my savages' evidence, i must discard it". as to "offerings of food to the dead," mrs. langloh parker found that nothing was offered except food "which happened to be in the possession of the corpse," at his decease. for these reasons it is almost inconceivable that the "supreme being" should "represent a dead headman," as to dead men of any sort no tribute is paid. mr. howitt himself appears to have abandoned the hypothesis that daramulun represents a dead headman, for he speaks of him as the "great spirit," or rather an "anthropomorphic supernatural being",*** * spencer and gillen, and roth. ** dawson, aborigines of australia. *** j. a. i., , p. . a great spirit might, conceivably, be developed out of a little spirit, even out of the ghost of a tribesman. but to the conception of a "supernatural anthropomorphic being," the idea of "spirit" is not necessary. men might imagine such an entity before they had ever dreamed of a ghost. having been initiated into the secrets of one set of tribes, mr. howitt was enabled to procure admission to those of another group of "clans," the kurnai. for twenty-five years the jeraeil, or mystery, had been in abeyance, for they are much in contact with europeans. the old men, however, declared that they exactly reproduced (with one confessed addition) the ancestral ceremonies. they were glad to do it, for their lads "now paid no attention either to the words of the old men, or to those of the missionaries".* *j. a. i., , p. . this is just what usually occurs. when we meet a savage tribe we destroy the old bases of its morality and substitute nothing new of our own. "they pay no attention to the words of the missionaries," but loaf, drink and gamble like station hands "knocking down a cheque ". consequently a rite unknown before the arrival of europeans is now introduced at the jeraeil. swift would have been delighted by this ceremony. "it was thought that the boys, having lived so much among the whites, had become selfish and no longer willing to share that which they obtained by their own exertions, or had given to them, with their friends." the boys were, therefore, placed in a row, and the initiator or mystagogue stooped over the first boy, and, muttering some words which i could not catch, he kneaded the lad's stomach with his hands. this he did to each one successively, and by it the kurnai supposed the "greediness" (------) "of the youth would be expelled".* * op. cit., pp. , . so far from unselfishness being a doctrine borrowed by the kurnai from christians, and introduced into their rites, it is (as we saw in the case of the arunta of central australia) part of the traditional morality--"the good old ancestral virtues," says mr. howitt--of the tribes. a special ceremony is needed before unselfishness can be inspired among blacks who have lived much among adherents of the gospel. thus "one satiric touch" seems to demonstrate that the native ethics are not of missionary origin. after overcoming the scruples of the old men by proving that he really was initiated in the kuringal, mr. howitt was admitted to the central rite of the kurnai "showing the grandfather". the essence of it is that the _mystae_ have their heads shrouded in blankets. these are snatched off, the initiator points solemnly to the sky with his throwing stick (which propels the spears) and then points to the tundun, or bull-roarer. this object (------) was also used in the mysteries of ancient greece, and is still familiar in the rites of savages in all quarters of the world. "the ancestral beliefs" are then solemnly revealed. it seems desirable to quote freely the "condensed" version of mr. howitt. "long ago there was a great being called mungan-ngaur." here a note adds that mungan means "father," and "ngaur" means "our". "he has no other name among the kurnai. in other tribes the great supreme being, besides being called 'father,' has a name, for example bunjil, baiame, daramulun." "this being lived on the earth, and taught the kurnai... all the arts they know. he also gave them the names they bear. mungan-gnaur had a son" (the sonship doctrine already noticed by mr. manning) "named tundun (the bull-roarer), who was married, and who is the direct ancestor--the weintwin or father's father--of the kurnai. mungan-ngaur instituted the jeraeil (mysteries) which was conducted by tundun, who made the instruments" (a large and a small bull-roarer, as also in queensland) "which bear the name of himself and his wife. "some tribal traitor impiously revealed the secrets of the jeraeil to women, and thereby brought down the anger of mungan upon the kurnai. he sent fire which filled the wide space between earth and sky. men went mad, and speared one another, fathers killing their children, husbands their wives, and brethren each other." this corroborates black andy. "then the sea rushed over the land, and nearly all mankind were drowned. those who survived became the ancestors of the kurnai.... tundun and his wife became porpoises" (as apollo in the homeric hymn became a dolphin), "mungan left the earth, and ascended to the sky, where he still remains."* * op. cit., pp. , . here the son is credited with none of the mediatorial attributes in mr. manning's version, but universal massacre, as a consequence of revealing the esoteric doctrine, is common to both accounts. morals are later inculcated. . "to listen to and obey the old men. . "to share everything they have with their friends. . "to live peaceably with their friends. . "not to interfere with girls or married women. . "to obey the food restrictions until they are released from them by the old men." [as at eleusis.] these doctrines, and the whole belief in mungan-ngaur, "the kurnai carefully concealed from me," says mr. howitt, "until i learned them at the jeraeil".* mr. howitt now admits, in so many words, that mungan-ngaur "is rather the beneficent father, and the kindly though severe headman of the whole tribe.... than the malevolent wizard".... he considers it "perhaps indicative of great antiquity, that this identical belief forms part of the central mysteries of a tribe so isolated as the kurnai, as well as of those of the tribes which had free communication one with another". as the morals sanctioned by mungan-ngaur are simply the extant tribal morals (of which unselfishness is a part, as in central australia), there seems no reason to attribute them to missionaries--who are quite unheeded. this part of the evidence may close with a statement of mr. howitt's: "beyond the vaulted sky lies the mysterious home of that great and powerful being who is bunjil, baiame, or dara-mulun in different tribal languages, but who in all is known by a name, the equivalent of the only one used by the kurnai, which is mungan-ngaur, our father".** * op. cit. , note ** j. a. i., xvi. . other affirmative evidence might be adduced. mr. ridley, who wrote primers in the kamilaroi language as early as in (using baiame for god), says: "in every part of australia where i have conversed with the aborigines, they have a traditional belief in one supreme creator," and he wonders, as he well may, at the statement to the contrary in the _encyclopedia britannica_, which rests solely on the authority, of dr. lang, in queensland. of names for the supreme being, mr. ridley gives baiame, anamba; in queensland, mumbal (thunder) and, at twofold bay, "dhu-rumbulum, which signifies, in the namoi, a sacred staff, originally given by baiame, and is used as the title of deity".* by "staff" mr. ridley appears to indicate the tundun, or bull-roarer. this i venture to infer from mr. matthews' account of the wiradthuri (new south wales) with whom dhuramoolan is an extinct bugbear, not answering to tundun among the kurnai, who is subordinate, as son, to mungan-ngaur, and is associated with the mystic bull-roarer, as is gayandi, the voice of the messenger of baiame, among mrs. langloh parker's informants.** in one tribe, dara-mulun used to carry off and eat the initiated boys, till he was stopped and destroyed by baiame. this myth can hardly exist, one may suppose, among such tribes as consider daramulun to preside over the mysteries. * j. a. i., ii. ( ), , . ** ibid., xxv. . living in contact with the baiame-worshipping kamilaroi, the wiradthuri appear to make a jest of the power of daramulun, who (we have learned) is said to have died, while his "spirit" dwells on high.* mr. green way also finds turramulan to be subordinate to baiame, who "sees all, and knows all, if not directly, through turramulan, who presides at the bora.... turramulan is mediator in all the operations of baiame upon man, and in all man's transactions with baiame. turramulan means "leg on one side only," "one-legged". here the mediatorial aspect corroborates mr. manning's information.** i would suggest, _periculo meo_, that there may have been some syncretism, a baiame-worshipping tribe adopting daramulun as a subordinate and mediator; or baiame may have ousted daramulun, as zeus did cronos. mr. ridley goes on to observe that about eighteen years ago (that is, in ) he asked intelligent blacks "if they knew baiame". the answer was: "kamil zaia zummi baiame, zaia winuzgulda," "i have not seen baiame, i have heard or perceived him". the same identical answer was given in "by a man to whom i had never before spoken". "if asked who made the sky, the earth, the animals and man, they always answer 'baiame'." varieties of opinion as to a future life exist. all go to baiame, or only the good (the bad dying eternally), or they change into birds!*** * j. a. i., xii. . ** ibid., vii. . *** ibid., ii. . turning to north-west central queensland we find dr. roth (who knows the language and is partly initiated) giving mul-ka-ri as "a benevolent, omnipresent, supernatural being. anything incomprehensible." he offers a sentence: "mulkari tikkara ena" = "lord (who dwellest) among the sky". again: "mulkari is the supernatural power who makes everything which the blacks cannot otherwise account for; he is a good, beneficent person, and never kills any one". he initiates medicine men. his home is in the skies. he once lived on earth, and there was a culture-hero, inventing magic and spells. that mulkari is an ancestral ghost as well as a beneficent maker i deem unlikely, as no honours are paid to the dead. "not in any way to refer to the dead appears to be an universal rule among all these tribes."* mulkari has a malignant opposite or counterpart. nothing is said by dr. roth as to inculcation of these doctrines at the mysteries, nor do messrs. spencer and gillen allude to any such being in their accounts of central australian rites, if we except the "self-existing" "out of nothing" ungambikula, sky-dwellers. one rite "is supposed to make the men who pass through it more kindly," we are not told why.** we have also an allusion to "the great spirit twangirika," whose voice (the women are told) is heard in the noise of the bull-roarer.*** * roth, pp. , , , , , . ** spencer and gillen, p. . *** ibid., p. . "the belief is fundamentally the same as that found in all australian tribes," write the authors, in a note citing tundun and daramulun. but they do not tell us whether the arunta belief includes the sanction, by twangirika, of morality. if it does not, have the central australians never developed the idea, or have they lost it? they have had quite as much experience of white men (or rather much more) than the believers in baiame or bunjil, "before the white men came to melbourne," and, if one set of tribes borrowed ideas from whites, why did not the other? the evidence here collected is not exhaustive. we might refer to pirnmeheal, a good being, whom the blacks loved before they were taught by missionaries to fear him.* * dawson, the australian aborigines. mr. dawson took all conceivable pains to get authentic information, and to ascertain whether the belief in pirnmeheal was pre-european. he thinks it was original. the idea of "god-borrowing" is repudiated by manning, gunther, ridley, green-way, palmer, mrs. langloh parker and others, speaking for trained observers and (in several cases) for linguists, studying the natives on the spot, since . it is thought highly improbable by mr. hale ( ). it is rejected by waitz-gerland, speaking for studious science in europe. mr. howitt, beginning with distrust, seems now to regard the beliefs described as of native origin. on the other hand we have mr. mann, who has been cited, and the great authority of mr. e. b. tylor, who, however, has still to reply to the arguments in favour of the native origin of the beliefs which i have ventured to offer. such arguments are the occurrence of baiame before the arrival of missionaries; the secrecy, as regards europeans, about ideas derived (mr. tylor thinks) from europeans; the ignorance of the women on these heads; the notorious conservatism of the "doctors" who promulgate the creed as to ritual and dogma, and the other considerations which have been fully stated. in the meanwhile i venture to think, subject to correction, that, while black andy may have exaggerated, or mr. manning may have coloured his evidence by christian terminology, and while mythical accretions on a religious belief are numerous, yet the lowest known human race has attained a religious conception very far above what savages are usually credited with, and has not done so by way of the "ghost-theory" of the anthropologists. in this creed sacrifice and ghost-worship are absent.* it has seemed worth while to devote space and attention to the australian beliefs, because the vast continent contains the most archaic and backward of existing races. we may not yet have a sufficient collection of facts microscopically criticised, but the evidence here presented seems deserving of attention. about the still more archaic but extinct tasmanians and their religion, evidence is too scanty, too casual, and too conflicting for our purpose.** * these australian gods are confusing. . daramulun is supreme among the coast murring. j. a. i., ziv. - . . baiame is supreme, daramulun is an extinct bugbear, among the wiradthuri. j. a. i., xxv. . . baiame is supreme, daramulun is "mediator," among the kamilaroi. j. a. i., vii. . ** see ling roth's _tasmanians_. chapter xiii. gods of the lowest races. bushmen gods--cagn, the grasshopper?--hottentot gods--"wounded knee," a dead sorcerer--melanesian gods--qat and the spider --aht and maori beasts-gods and men-gods--samoan form of animal-gods--one god incarnate in many animal shapes--one for each clan--they punish the eating of certain animals. passing from australia to africa, we find few races less advanced than the bushmen (_sa-n_, "settlers," in nama). whatever view may be taken of the past history of the bushmen of south africa, it is certain that at present they are a race on a very low level of development. "even the hottentots," according to dr. bleek, "exceed the bushmen in civilisation and political organisation".* * see waitz, anthrop. nat. volk, ii. - . before investigating the religious myths of the bushmen, it must be repeated that, as usual, their religion is on a far higher level than their mythology. the conception of invisible or extra-natural powers, which they entertain and express in moments of earnest need, is all unlike the tales which they tell about their own. our main authorities at present for bushman myths are contained in a brief account of bushman folk-lore, bleek, london, ; and in a glimpse into the mythology of the maluti bushmen, by mr. orpen, chief magistrate, st. john's territory, cape monthly magazine, july, . some information may also be gleaned from the south african folk-lore journal, - , gods, if gods such mythical beings may be called. thus livingstone says: "on questioning intelligent men among the bakwains as to their former knowledge of good and evil, of god and the future state, they have scouted the idea of any of them ever having been without a tolerably clear conception on all these subjects".* their ideas of sin were the same as livingstone's, except about polygamy, and apparently murder. probably there were other trifling discrepancies. but "they spoke in the same way of the direct influence exercised by god in giving rain in answer to the prayers of the rain-makers, and in granting deliverance in times of danger, as they do now, before they ever heard of white men ". this was to be expected. in short, the religion of savages, in its childlike and hopeful dependence on an invisible friend or friends, in its hope of moving him (or them) by prayer, in its belief that he (or they) "make for righteousness," is absolutely human. on the other side, as in the myths of greece or india, stand the absurd and profane anecdotes of the gods. * missionary travels, p. . we now turn to a bushman's account of the religious myths of his tribe. shortly after the affair of langa-libalele, mr. orpen had occasion to examine an unknown part of the maluti range, the highest mountains in south africa. he engaged a scout named qing, son of a chief of an almost exterminated clan of hill bushmen. he was now huntsman to king nqusha, morosi's son, on the orange river, and _had never seen a white man, except fighting_. thus qing's evidence could not be much affected by european communications. mr. orpen secured the services of qing, who was a young man and a mighty hunter. by inviting him to explain the wall-pictures in caves, mr. orpen led him on to give an account of cagn, the chief mythical being in bushman religion. "cagn made all things, and we pray to him," said qing. "at first he was very good and nice, but he got spoilt through fighting so many things." "the prayer uttered by qing, 'in a low imploring voice,' ran thus: 'o cagn, o cagn, are we not your children? do you not see our hunger? give us food.'" where cagn is qing did not know, "but the elands know. have you not hunted and heard his cry when the elands suddenly run to his call?"* now comes in myth. cagn has a wife called coti. "how came he into the world? perhaps with those who brought the sun;... only the initiated men of that dance know these things."** * another bushman prayer, a touching appeal, is given in alexander's expedition, ii. , and a khoi-khoi hymn of prayer is in hahn, pp. , . ** cf. custom and myth, pp. , . it appears that the bushmen, like the egyptians and greeks, hand down myths through esoteric societies, with dramatic mysteries. cagn had two sons, cogaz and gcwi. he and they were "great chiefs," but used stone-pointed digging sticks to grub up edible roots! cagn's wife brought forth a fawn, and, like cronus when rhea presented him with a foal, cagn was put to it to know the nature and future fortunes of this child of his. to penetrate the future he employed the ordinary native charms and sorcery. the remainder of the myth accounts for the origin of elands and for their inconvenient wildness. a daughter of cagn's married "snakes who were also men," the eternal confusion of savage thought. these snakes became the people of cagn. cagn had a tooth which was "great medicine"; his force resided in it, and he lent it to people whom he favoured. the birds (as in odin's case) were his messengers, and brought him news of all that happened at a distance.* * compare with the separable vigour of cagn, residing in his tooth, the european and egyptian examples of a similar myth--the lock of hair of minos, the hair of samson--in introduction to mrs. hunt's grimm's household stories, p. lxxv. he could turn his sandals and clubs into dogs, and set them at his enemies. the baboons were once men, but they offended cagn, and sang a song with the burden, "cagn thinks he is clever"; so he drove them into desolate places, and they are accursed till this day. his strong point was his collection of charms, which, like other bushmen and hottentots, he kept "in his belt". he could, and did, assume animal shapes; for example, that of a bull-eland. the thorns were once people, and killed cagn, and the ants ate him, but his bones were collected and he was revived. it was formerly said that when men died they went to cagn, but it has been denied by later bushmen sceptics. such is qing's account of cagn, and cagn in myth is plainly but a successful and idealised medicine-man whose charms actually work. dr. bleek identifies his name with that of the mantis insect. this insect is the chief mythological personage of the bushmen of the western province. kággen his name is written. dr. bleek knew of no prayer to the mantis, but was acquainted with addresses to the sun, moon and stars. if dr. bleek's identification is correct, the cagn of qing is at once human and a sort of grasshopper, just as pund-jel was half human, half eagle-hawk. "the most prominent of the mythological figures," says dr. bleek, speaking of the bushmen, "is the mantis." his proper name is kaggen, but if we call him cagn, the interests of science will not seriously suffer. his wife is the "dasse hyrax". their adopted daughter is the porcupine, daughter of _khwdi hemm_, the all-devourer. like cronus, and many other mythological persons, the all-devourer has the knack of swallowing all and sundry, and disgorging them alive. dr. bleek offers us but a wandering and disjointed account of the mantis or cagn, who is frequently defeated by other animals, such as the suricat. cagn has one point at least in common with zeus. as zeus was swallowed and disgorged by cronus, so was cagn by _khwái hemm_. as indra once entered into the body of a cow, so did cagn enter into the body of an elephant. dr. bleek did not find that the mantis was prayed to, as cagn was by qing. the moon (like sun and stars) is, however, prayed to, and "the moon belongs to the mantis," who, indeed, made it out of his old shoe! the chameleon is prayed to for rain on occasion, and successfully. the peculiarity of bushman mythology is the almost absolute predominance of animals. except "an old woman," who appears now and then in these incoherent legends, their myths have scarcely one human figure to show. now, whether the bushmen be deeply degenerate from a past civilisation or not, it is certain that their myths are based on their actual condition of thought, unless we prefer to say that their intellectual condition is derived from their myths. we have already derived the constant presence and personal action of animals in myth from that savage condition of the mind in which "all things, animate or inanimate, human, animal, vegetable or inorganic, seem on the same level of life, passion and reason" (chap. iii.). now, there can be no doubt that, whether the bushman mind has descended to this stage or not, in this stage it actually dwells at present. as examples we may select the following from dr. bleek's _bushman folk-lore_. _díalkwáin_ told how the death of his own wife was "foretold by the springbok and the gems-bok". again, for examples of living belief in community of nature with animals, dialkwain mentioned an old woman, a relation, and friend of his own, who had the power "of turning herself into a lioness". another bushman, kabbo, retaining, doubtless, his wide-awake mental condition in his sleep, "dreamed of lions which talked". another informant explained that lions talk like men "by putting their tails in their mouth". this would have pleased sydney smith, who thought that "if lions would meet and growl out their observations to each other," they might sensibly improve in culture. again, "all things that belong to the mantis can talk," and most things do belong to that famous being. in "news from zululand,"* in a myth of the battle of isandlwana, a blue-buck turns into a young man and attacks the british. * folk-lore journal of south africa, i. iv. . these and other examples demonstrate that the belief in the personal and human character and attributes of animals still prevails in south africa. from that living belief we derive the personal and human character and attributes of animals, which, remarkable in all mythologies, is perhaps specially prominent in the myths of the bushmen. though bushman myth is only known to us in its outlines, and is apparently gifted with even more than the due quantity of incoherence, it is perhaps plain that animals are the chief figures in this african lore, and that these bushmen gods, if ever further developed, will retain many traces of their animal ancestry. from the bushmen we may turn to their near neighbours, the hottentots or khoi-khoi. their religious myths have been closely examined in dr. hahn's _tsuni goam, the supreme being of the khoi-khoi_. though dr. hahn's conclusions as to the origin of hottentot myth differ entirely from our own, his collection and critical study of materials, of oral traditions, and of the records left by old travellers are invaluable. the early european settlers at the cape found the khoi-khoi, that is, "the men," a yellowish race of people, who possessed large herds of cattle, sheep and goats.* the khoi-khoi, as nomad cattle and sheep farmers, are on a much higher level of culture than the bushmen, who are hunters.** * op. cit. i. pp. , . ** ibid., p. . the languages of the two peoples leave "no more doubt as to their primitive relationship" (p. ). the wealth of the khoi-khoi was considerable and unequally distributed, a respectable proof of nascent civilisation. the rich man was called _gou, aob_, that is "fat". in the same way the early greeks called the wealthy "(------------)".* as the rich man could afford many wives (which gives him a kind of "commendation" over men to whom he allots his daughters), he "gradually rose to the station of a chief".** in domestic relations, khoi-khoi society is "matriarchal" (pp. - ).*** * herodotus, v. . ** op. cit., p. . *** but speaking of the wife, kolb calls "the poor wretch" a "drudge, exposed to the insults of her children",--english transl., p. . all the sons are called after the mother, the daughters after the father. among the arts, pottery and mat-making, metallurgy and tool-making are of ancient date. a past stone age is indicated by the use of quartz knives in sacrifice and circumcision. in khoi-khoi society seers and prophets were "the greatest and most respected old men of the clan" (p. ). the khoi-khoi of to-day have adopted a number of indo-european beliefs and customs, and "the christian ideas introduced by missionaries have amalgamated... with the national religious ideas and mythologies," for which reasons dr, hahn omits many legends which, though possibly genuine, might seem imported (pp. , ). a brief historical abstract of what was known to old travellers of khoi-khoi religion must now be compiled from the work of dr. hahn. in corporal müller found adoration paid to great stones on the side of the paths. the worshippers pointed upwards and said _hette hie_, probably "heitsi eibib," the name of a khoi-khoi extra-natural being. it appears (p. ) that heitsi eibib "has changed names" in parts of south africa, and what was his worship is now offered "to |garubeb, or tsui |goab". in dapper found that the khoi-khoi "believe there is one who sends rain on earth;... they also believe that they themselves can make rain and prevent the wind from blowing". worship of the moon and of "erected stones" is also noticed. in nicolas witsen heard that the khoi-khoi adored a god which dr. hahn (p. ) supposes to have been "a peculiar-shaped stone-fetish," such as the basutos worship and spit at. witsen found that the "god" was daubed with red earth, like the dionysi in greece. about valentyn gathered that the people believed in "a great chief who dwells on high," and a devil; "but in carefully examining this, it is nothing else but their _somsomas_ and _spectres_" (p. ). we need not accept that opinion. the worship of a "great chief" is mentioned again in . in peter kolb, the german magister, published his account of the hottentots, which has been done into english.* kolb gives gounja gounja, or gounja ticqvoa, as the divine name; "they say he is a good man, who does nobody any hurt,... and that he dwells far above the moon ".** this corresponds to the australian pirnmeheal. kolb also noted propitiation of an evil power. he observed that the khoi-khoi worship the mantis insect, which, as we have seen, is the chief mythical character among the bushmen.*** * second edition, london, . ** engl. transl., . *** engl, transl., i. , gives a picture of khoi-khoi adoring the mantis. dr. hahn remarks, "strangely enough the namaquas also call it |gaunab, as they call the enemy of tsui |goab".* in kolb's time, as now, the rites of the khoi (except, apparently, their worship at dawn) were performed beside cairns of stones. if we may credit kolb, the khoi-khoi are not only most fanatical adorers of the mantis, but "pay a religious veneration to their saints and men of renown departed". thunberg ( ) noticed cairn-worship and heard of mantis-worship. in lichtenstein saw cairn-worship. with the beginning of the present century we find in apple-yard, ebner and others khoi-khoi names for a god, which are translated "sore-knee" or "wounded-knee ". this title is explained as originally the name of a "doctor or sorcerer" of repute, "invoked even after death," and finally converted into a deity. his enemy is gaunab, an evil being, and he is worshipped at the cairns, below which he is believed to be buried.** about knudsen considered that the khoi-khoi believed in a dead medicine-man, heitsi eibib, who could make rivers roll back their waves, and then walk over safely, as in the _märchen_ of most peoples. he was also, like odin, a "shape-shifter," and he died several times and came to life again.*** * page ; compare pp. , . ** alexander, expedition, i ; hahn, op. cit., pp. , , where moffat is quoted. *** hahn, p. . thus the numerous graves of heitsi eibib are explained by his numerous deaths. in egypt the numerous graves of osiris were explained by the story that he was mutilated, and each limb buried in a different place. probably both the hottentot and the egyptian legend were invented to account for the many worshipped cairns attributed to the same corpse. we now reach the myths of heitsi eibib and tsui |goab collected by dr. hahn himself. according to the evidence of dr. hahn's own eyes, the working religion of the khoi-khoi is "a firm belief in sorcery and the arts of living medicine-men on the one hand, and, on the other, belief in and adoration of the powers of the dead" (pp. , , , ). our author tells us that he met in the wilds a woman of the "fat" or wealthy class going to pray at the grave and to the manes of her own father. "we khoi-khoi always, if we are in trouble, go and pray at the graves of our grandparents and ancestors." they also sing rude epic verses, accompanied by the dance in honour of men distinguished in the late namaqua and damara war. now it is alleged by dr. hahn that prayers are offered at the graves of heitsi eibib and tsui goab, as at those of ancestors lately dead, and heitsi eibib and tsui goab within living memory were honoured by song and dance, exactly like the braves of the damara war. the obvious and natural inference is that heitsi eibib and tsui goab were and are regarded by their worshippers as departed but still helpful ancestral warriors or medicine-men. we need not hold that they ever were actual living men; they may be merely idealised figures of khoi-khoi wisdom and valour. here, as elsewhere, animism, ghost-worship, is potent, and, in proportion, theism declines. here dr. hahn offers a different explanation, founded on etymological conjecture and a philosophy of religion. according to him, the name of tsui goab originally meant, not wounded knee, but red dawn. the dawn was worshipped as a symbol or suggestion of the infinite, and only by forgetfulness and false interpretation of the original word did the khoi-khoi fall from a kind of pure theosophy to adoration of a presumed dead medicine-man. as dr. hahn's ingenious hypothesis has been already examined by us,* it is unnecessary again to discuss the philological basis of his argument. dr. hahn not only heard simple and affecting prayers addressed to tsui goab, but learned from native informants that the god had been a chief, a warrior, wounded in his knee in battle with gaunab, another chief, and that he had prophetic powers. he still watches the ways of men (p. ) and punishes guilt. universal testimony was given to the effect that heitsi eibib also had been a chief from the east, a prophet and a warrior. he apportioned, by blessings and curses, their present habits to many of the animals. like odin, he was a "shape-shifter," possessing the medicine-man's invariable power of taking all manner of forms. he was on one occasion born of a cow, which reminds us of a myth of indra. by another account he was born of a virgin who tasted a certain kind of grass. this legend is of wonderfully wide diffusion among savage and semi-civilised races.** * custom and myth, pp. - . ** le fits de la vierge, h. de charency, havre, . a tale of incest by heitsi eibib, may be compared with another in muir's sanskrit texts, iv. . the tales about tsui goab and heitsi eibib are chiefly narratives of combats with animals and with the evil power in a nascent dualism, gaunab, "at first a ghost," according to hahn (p. ), or "certainly nobody else but the night" (pp. , ). here there is some inconsistency. if we regard the good power, tsui goab, as the red dawn, we are bound to think the evil power, gaunab, a name for the night. but dr. hahn's other hypothesis, that the evil power was originally a malevolent ghost, seems no less plausible. in either case, we have here an example of the constant mythical dualism which gives the comparatively good being his perpetual antagonist--the loki to his odin, the crow to his eagle-hawk. in brief, hottentot myth is pretty plainly a reflection of hottentot general ideas about ancestor worship, ghosts, sorcerers and magicians, while, in their _religious_ aspect, heitsi eibib or tsui goab are guardians of life and of morality, fathers and friends. a description of barbarous beliefs not less scholarly and careful than that compiled by dr. hahn has been published by the rev. r. h. codrington.* mr. codrington has studied the myths of the papuans and other natives of the melanesian group, especially in the solomon islands and banks island. these peoples are by no means in the lowest grade of culture; they are traders in their way, builders of canoes and houses, and their society is interpenetrated by a kind of mystic hierarchy, a religious _camorra_. the banks islanders** recognise two sorts of intelligent extra-natural beings--the spirits of the dead and powers which have never been human. * journal anthrop. inst., february, . ** op. cit., p. . the former are _tamate_, the latter _vui_--ghosts and _genii_, we might call them. vuis are classed by mr. codrington as "corporeal" and "incorporeal," but he thinks the corporeal vuis have not _human_ bodies. among corporeal vuis the chief are the beings nearest to gods in melanesian myths--the half god, half "culture-hero," i qat, his eleven brothers, and his familiar and assistant, marawa. these were members of a race anterior to that of the men of to-day, and they dwelt in vanua levu. though now passed away from the eyes of mortals, they are still invoked in prayer. the following appeal by a voyaging banks islander resembles the cry of the shipwrecked odysseus to the friendly river:-- "qat! marawa! look down upon us; smooth the sea for us two, that i may go safely on the sea. beat down for me the crests of the tide-rip; let the tide-rip settle down away from me; beat it down level that it may sink and roll away, and i may come to a quiet landing-place." compare the prayer of odysseus:-- "'hear me, o king, whosoever thou art; unto thee am i come as to one to whom prayer is made, while i flee the rebukes of poseidon from the deep....' so spake he, and the god straightway stayed his stream and withheld his waves, and made the water smooth before him, and brought him safely to the mouth of the river." but for qat's supernatural power and creative exploits,* "there would be little indeed to show him other than a man". he answers almost precisely to maui, the "the culture-hero" of new zealand. qat's mother either was, or, like niobe, became a stone. * see "savage myths of the origin of things". he was the eldest (unlike maui) of twelve brothers, among whom were tongaro the wise and tongaro the fool. the brothers were killed by an evil gluttonous power like kwai hemm and put in a food chest. qat killed the foe and revived his brothers, as the sons of cronus came forth alive from their father's maw. his great foe--for of course he had a foe--was qasavara, whom he destroyed by dashing him against the solid firmament of sky. qasavara is now a stone (like the serpent displayed by zeus at aulis*), on which sacrifices are made. qat's chief friend is marawa, a spider, or a vui in the shape of a spider. the divine mythology of the melanesians, as far as it has been recovered, is meagre. we only see members of a previous race, "magnified non-natural men," with a friendly insect working miracles and achieving rather incoherent adventures. * iliad, ii. - . much on the same footing of civilisation as the melanesians were the natives of tonga in the first decade of this century. the tongan religious beliefs were nearly akin to the ideas of the samoans and of the solomon islanders. in place of vuis they spoke of hotooas (atuas), and like the vuis, those spiritual beings have either been purely spiritual from the beginning or have been incarnate in humanity and are now ghosts, but ghosts enjoying many of the privileges of gods. all men, however, have not souls capable of a separate existence, only the _egi_ or nobles, possess a spiritual part, which goes to bolotoo, the land of gods and ghosts, after death, and enjoys "power similar to that of the original gods, but less". it is open to philosophers of mr. herbert spencer's school to argue that the "original gods" were once ghosts like the others, but this was not the opinion of the tongans. they have a supreme creator, who alone receives no sacrifice.* both sorts of gods appear occasionally to mankind--the primitive deities particularly affect the forms of "lizards, porpoises and a species of water-snake, hence those animals are much respected".** * mariner, ii. . ** mariner's tonga islands, edin., , ii - . whether each stock of tongans had its own animal incarnation of its special god does not appear from mariner's narrative. the gods took human morality under their special protection, punishing the evil and rewarding the good, in this life only, not in the land of the dead. when the comfortable doctrine of eternal punishment was expounded to the tongans by mariner, the poor heathen merely remarked that it "was very bad indeed for the papalangies" or foreigners. their untutored minds, in their pagan darkness, had dreamed of no such thing. the tongans themselves are descended from some gods who set forth on a voyage of discovery out of bolotoo. landing on tonga, these adventurers were much pleased with the island, and determined to stay there; but in a few days certain of them died. they had left the deathless coasts for a world where death is native, and, as they had eaten of the food of the new realm, they would never escape the condition of mortality. this has been remarked as a widespread belief. persephone became enthralled to hades after tasting the mystic pomegranate of the underworld. in samoa siati may not eat of the god's meat, nor wainamoinen in pohjola, nor thomas the rhymer in fairyland. the exploring gods from bolotoo were in the same way condemned to become mortal and people the world with mortal beings, and all about them should be _méa máma_, subject to decay and death.* it is remarkable, if correctly reported, that the secondary gods, or ghosts of nobles, cannot reappear as lizards, porpoises and water-snakes; this is the privilege of the original gods only, and may be an assumption by them of a conceivably totemistic aspect. the nearest approach to the idea of a permanent supreme deity is contained in the name of táli y toobo--"wait there, toobo"--a name which conveys the notion perhaps of permanence or eternity. "he is a great chief from the top of the sky to the bottom of the earth."** * mariner, ii. . ** ibid., ii. . he is invoked both in war and peace, not locally, but "for the general good of the natives". he is the patron, not of any special stock or family, but of the house in which the royal power is lodged for the time. alone of gods he is unpropitiated by food or libation, indicating that he is not evolved out of a hungry ghost. another god, toobo toty or toobo the mariner, may be a kind of poseidon. he preserves canoes from perils at sea. on the death of the daughter of finow, the king in mariner's time, that monarch was so indignant that he threatened to kill the priest of toobo toty. as the god is believed to inspire the priest, this was certainly a feasible way of getting at the god. but toobo toty was beforehand with finow, who died himself before he could carry the war into bolotoo.* this finow was a sceptic; he allowed that there were gods, because he himself had occasionally been inspired by them; "but what the priests tell us about their power over mankind i believe to be all false". thus early did the conflict of church and state declare itself in tonga. human sacrifices were a result of priestcraft in tonga, as in greece. even the man set to kill a child of toobo toa's was moved by pity, and exclaimed _o iaooe chi vale!_ ("poor little innocent!") the priest demanded this sacrifice to allay the wrath of the gods for the slaying of a man in consecrated ground.** such are the religious ideas of tonga; of their mythology but little has reached us, and that is under suspicion of being coloured by acquaintance with the stories of missionaries. * mariner, i. , it . ** compare the ayos of the alcmænidæ. the maoris, when first discovered by europeans, were in a comparatively advanced stage of barbarism. their society had definite ranks, from that of the rangatira, the chief with a long pedigree, to the slave. their religious hymns, of great antiquity, have been collected and translated by grey, taylor, bastian and others. the mere possession of such hymns, accurately preserved for an unknown number of years by oral tradition, proves that the mythical notions of the maoris have passed through the minds of professed bards and early physical speculators. the verses, as bastian has observed (_die heilige sage der polynesier_), display a close parallel to the roughest part of the early greek cosmogonies, as expounded by hesiod. yet in the maori hymns there are metaphysical ideas and processes which remind one more of heraclitus than of hesiod, and perhaps more of hegel than of either. whether we are to regard the abstract conceptions or the rude personal myths of gods such as a, the beyond all, as representing the earlier development of maori thought, whether one or the other element is borrowed, not original, are questions which theorists of different schools will settle in their own way to their own satisfaction. some hymns represent the beginning of things from a condition of thought, and socrates might have said of the maori poets as he did of anaxagoras, that compared with other early thinkers, they are "like sober men among drunkards". thus one hymn of the origins runs thus:-- from the conception the increase, from the increase the swelling, from the swelling the thought, from the thought the remembrance, from the remembrance the desire. the word became fruitful, it dwelt with the feeble glimmering, it brought forth night. from the nothing the begetting, it produced the atmosphere which is above us. the atmosphere above dwelt with the glowing sky, forthwith was produced the sun. then the moon sprang forth. they were thrown up above as the chief eyes of heaven, then the heavens became light. the sky which floats above dwelt with hawaiki,* and produced (certain islands). * the islands of hawaiki, being then the only land known, is put for papa, the earth. then follow genealogies of gods, down to the chief in whose family this hymn was traditional.* * taylor, new zealand, pp. - . other hymns of the same character, full of such metaphysical and abstract conceptions as "the proceeding from the nothing," are quoted at great length. these extracts are obviously speculative rather than in any sense mythological the element of myth just shows itself when we are told that the sky dwelt with the earth and produced certain islands. but myth of a familiar character is very fully represented among the maoris. their mythical gods, though "mixed up with the spirits of ancestors," are great natural powers, first heaven and earth, rangi and papa, the parents of all. these are conceived as having originally been united in such a close embrace, the heaven lying on the earth, that between their frames all was darkness, and in darkness the younger gods, atua, o-te-po, their children, were obliged to dwell. these children or younger gods (answering to the cronidæ) were the god of war (tumatauenga), the forest-god (tane mahuta), in shape a tree, the wind-god (tawhiri matea), the gods of cultivated and natural fruits, the god of ocean (tangaroa). these gods were unable to endure the dungeon and the darkness of their condition, so they consulted together and said: "let us seek means whereby to destroy heaven and earth, or to separate them from each other". the counsel of tane mahuta prevailed: "let one go upwards and become a stranger to us; let the other remain below and be a parent to us". finally, tane mahuta rent asunder heaven and earth, pushing heaven up where he has ever since remained. the wind-god followed his father, abode with him in the open spaces of the sky, and thence makes war on the trees of the forest-god, his enemy. tangaroa went, like poseidon, to the great deep, and his children, the reptiles and fishes, clove part to the waters, part to the dry land. the war-god, tu, was more of a human being than the other gods, though his "brethren" are plants, fish and reptiles. still, tu is not precisely the first man of new zealand. though all these mythical beings are in a sense departmental gods, they yield in renown to a later child of their race, maui, the great culture-hero, who is an advanced form of the culture-heroes, mainly theriomorphic, of the lower races.* maui, like many heroes of myth, was a youngest son. he was prematurely born (a similar story comes in the brahmanic legend of the adityas); his mother wrapped him up in her long hair and threw him out to sea. a kinsman rescued him, and he grew up to be much the most important member of his family, like qat in his larger circle of brethren. maui it was who snared the sun, beat him,** and taught him to run his appointed course, instead of careering at will and at any pace he chose about the heavens. * te-heu-heu, a powerful chief, described to mr. taylor the departmental character of his gods. "is there one maker of things among europeans? is not one a carpenter, another a blacksmith, another a shipbuilder? so it was in the beginning. one made this, another that. tane made trees, ru mountains, tangaroa fish, and so forth." taylor, new zealand, p. , note. ** the sun, when beaten, cried out and revealed his great name, exactly as indra did in his terror and flight after slaying the serpent. taylor, op. cit., p. . he was the culture-hero who invented barbs for spears and hooks; he turned his brother into the first dog, whence dogs are sacred, he fished new zealand out of the sea; he stole fire for men. how maui performed this feat, and how he "brought death into the world and all our woe," are topics that belong to the myths of _death_ and of the _fire-stealer_.* maui could not only change men into animals, but could himself assume animal shapes at will. such is a brief account of the ancient traditions of mythical maori gods and of the culture-hero. in practice, the conception of _atua_ (or a kind of extra-natural power or powers) possesses much influence in new zealand. all manner of spirits in all manner of forms are _atuas_. "a great chief was regarded as a malignant god in life, and a still worse one after death."** again, "after maui came a host of gods, each with his history and wonderful deeds.... these were ancestors who became deified by their respective tribes,"***--a statement which must be regarded as theoretical. * see la mythologie, a. l., paris, . ** taylor, op. cit., pp. , . ***op. cit., p. . it is odd enough, if true, that maru should be the war-god of the southern island, and that the planet mars is called after him maru. "there were also gods in human forms, and others with those of reptiles.... at one period there seems to have been a mixed offspring from the same parents. thus while tawaki was of the human form, his brethren were _taniwa_ and sharks; there were likewise mixed marriages among them." these legends are the natural result of that lack of distinction between man and the other things in the world which, as we demonstrated, prevails in early thought. it appears that the great mythical gods of the maoris have not much concern with their morality. the myths are "but a magnified history of their chiefs, their wars, murders and lusts, with the addition of some supernatural powers"--such as the chiefs are very apt to claim.* in the opinion of a competent observer, the gods, or atua, who are feared in daily life, are "spirits of the dead," and _their_ attention is chiefly confined to the conduct of their living descendants and clansmen. they inspire courage, the leading virtue. when converted, the natives are said not to expel, but merely to subordinate their atua, "believing christ to be a more powerful atua".** * op. cit., p. . ** shortland, trad, and superst. of new zealanders, , pp. - . the maoris are perhaps the least elevated race in which a well-developed polytheism has obscured almost wholly that belief in a moral maker which we find among the lowest savages who have but a rudimentary polytheism. when we advance to ancient civilised peoples, like the greeks, we shall find the archaic theism obscured, or obliterated, in a similar way. in the beliefs of samoa (formerly called the navigators' islands, and discovered by a dutch expedition in ) may be observed a most interesting moment in the development of religion and myth. in many regions it has been shown that animals are worshipped as totems, and that the gods are invested with the shape of animals. in the temples of higher civilisations will be found divine images still retaining in human form certain animal attributes, and a minor worship of various beasts will be shown to have grouped itself in greece round the altars of zeus, or apollo, or demeter. now in samoa we may perhaps trace the actual process of the "transition," as mr. tylor says, "from the spirit inhabiting an individual body to the deity presiding over all individuals of a kind". in other words, whereas in australia or america each totem-kindred reveres each animal supposed to be of its own lineage--the "cranes" revering all cranes, the "kangaroos" all kangaroos--in samoa the various clans exhibit the same faith, but combine it with the belief that one spiritual deity reveals itself in each separate animal, as in a kind of avatar. for example, the several australian totem-kindreds do not conceive that pund-jel incarnates himself in the emu for one stock, in the crow for another, in the cockatoo for a third, and they do not by these, but by other means, attain a religious unity, transcending the diversity caused by the totemic institutions. in samoa this kind of spiritual unity is actually reached by various stocks. the samoans were originally spoken of by travellers as the "godless samoans," an example of a common error. probably there is no people whose practices and opinions, if duly investigated, do not attest their faith in something of the nature of gods. certainly the samoans, far from being "godless," rather deserve the reproach of being "in all things too superstitious". "the gods were supposed to appear in some _visible incarnation_, and the particular thing in which his god was in the habit of appearing was to the samoanan object of veneration."* * turner's samoa, p. . here we find that the religious sentiment has already become more or less self-conscious, and has begun to reason on its own practices. in pure totemism it is their kindred animal that men revere. the samoans explain their worship of animals, not on the ground of kinship and common blood or "one flesh" (as in australia), but by the comparatively advanced hypothesis that a spiritual power is _in_ the animal. "one, for instance, saw his god in the eel, another in the shark, another in the turtle, another in the dog, another in the owl, another in the lizard," and so on, even to shell-fish. the creed so far is exactly what garcilasso de la vega found among the remote and ruder neighbours of the incas, and attributed to the pre-inca populations. "a man," as in egypt, and in totemic countries generally, "would eat freely of what was regarded as the incarnation of the god of another man", but the incarnation of his own god he would consider it death to injure or eat. the god was supposed to avenge the insult by taking up his abode in that person's body, and causing to generate there the very thing which he had eaten until it produced death. the god used to be heard within the man, saying, "i am killing this man; he ate my incarnation". this class of tutelary deities they called _aitu fale_, or "gods of the house," gods of the stock or kindred. in totemistic countries the totem is respected _per se_, in samoa the animal is worshipful because a god abides within him. this appears to be a theory by which the reflective samoans have explained to themselves what was once pure totemism. not only the household, but the village has its animal gods or god incarnate in an animal as some arab tribes piously bury dead gazelles, as athenians piously buried wolves, and egyptians cats, so in samoa "if a man found a dead owl by the roadside, and if that happened to be the incarnation of his village god, he would sit down and weep over it, and beat his forehead with a stone till the blood came. this was supposed to be pleasing to the deity. then the bird would be wrapped up and buried with care and ceremony, as if it were a human body. this, however, was not the death of the god." like the solemnly sacrificed buzzard in california, like the bull in the attic _dupolia_, "he was supposed to be yet alive and incarnate in all the owls in existence".* in addition to these minor and local divinities, the samoans have gods of sky, earth, disease and other natural departments.** of their origin we only know that they fell from heaven, and all were incarnated or embodied in birds, beasts, plants, stones and fishes. but they can change shapes, and appear in the moon when she is not visible, or in any other guise they choose. if in samoa the sky-god was once on the usual level of sky-gods elsewhere, he seems now to be degenerate. * (------------------) porph., de abst.t ii. ; samoa, p. . ** i am careful not to call samoan sacred animals "totems." to which mr. tylor justly objects, but i think the samoan belief has totemistic origins. chapter xiv. american divine myths novelty of the "new world "--different stages of culture represented there--question of american monotheism-- authorities and evidence cited--myths examined: eskimo, ahts, thlinkeets, iroquois, the great hare--dr. brinton's theory of the hare--zuni myths--transition to mexican mythology. the divine myths of the vast american continent are a topic which a lifetime entirely devoted to the study could not exhaust. at best it is only a sketch in outline that can be offered in a work on the development of mythology in general. the subject is the more interesting as anything like systematic borrowing of myths from the old world is all but impossible, as has already been argued in chapter xi. america, it is true, may have been partially "discovered" many times; there probably have been several points and moments of contact between the new and the old world. yet at the time when the spaniards landed there, and while the first conquests and discoveries were being pursued, the land and the people were to europeans practically as novel as the races and territories of a strange planet.* but the new world only revealed the old stock of humanity in many of its familiar stages of culture, and, consequently, with the old sort of gods, and myths, and creeds. * reville, hibbert lectures, , p. in the evolution of politics, society, ritual, and in all the outward and visible parts of religion, the american races ranged between a culture rather below the ancient egyptian and a rudeness on a level with australian or bushman institutions. the more civilised peoples, aztecs and peruvians, had many peculiarities in common with the races of ancient egypt, china and india; where they fell short was in the lack of alphabet or syllabary. the mexican mss. are but an advanced picture-writing, more organised than that of the ojibbeways; the peruvian quipus was scarcely better than the red indian wampum records. mexicans and peruvians were settled in what deserved to be called cities; they had developed a monumental and elaborately decorated architecture; they were industrious in the arts known to them, though ignorant of iron. among the aztecs, at least, weapons and tools of bronze, if rare, were not unknown. they were sedulous in agriculture, disciplined in war, capable of absorbing and amalgamating with conquered tribes. in peru the ruling family, the incas, enjoyed all the sway of a hierarchy, and the chief inca occupied nearly as secure a position, religious, social and political, as any rameses or thothmes. in mexico, doubtless, the monarch's power was at least nominally limited, in much the same way as that of the persian king. the royal rule devolved on the elected member of an ancient family, but once he became prince he was surrounded by imposing ceremony. in both these two civilised peoples the priesthood enjoyed great power, and in mexico, though not so extensively, if at all, in peru, practised an appalling ritual of cannibalism and human sacrifice. it is extremely probable, or rather certain, that both of these civilisations were younger than the culture of other american peoples long passed away, whose cities stand in colossal ruin among the forests, whose hieroglyphs seem undecipherable, and whose copper-mines were worked at an unknown date on the shore of lake superior. over the origin and date of those "crowned races" it were vain to linger here. they have sometimes left the shadows of names--toltecs and chichimecs--and relics more marvellous than the fainter traces of miners and builders in southern and central africa. the rest is silence. we shall never know why the dwellers in palenque deserted their majestic city while "the staircases were new, the steps whole, the edges sharp, and nowhere did traces of wear and tear give certain proof of long habitation".* on a much lower level than the great urban peoples, but tending, as it were, in the same direction, and presenting the same features of state communism in their social arrangements, were, and are, the cave and cliff dwellers, the agricultural village indians (pueblo indians) of new mexico and arizona. in the sides of the cañons towns have been burrowed, and men have dwelt in them like sand-martins in a sand-bank. the traveller views "perpendicular cliffs everywhere riddled with human habitations, which resemble the cells of a honeycomb more than anything else". in lowland villages the dwellings are built of clay and stone. * nadaillac, prehistoric america, p. . "the san juan valley is strewn with ruins for hundreds of miles; some buildings, three storeys high, of masonry, are still standing."* the moquis, zunis and navahos of to-day, whose habits and religious rites are known from the works of mr. cushing, mr. matthews, and captain john g. bourke, are apparently descendants of "a sedentary, agricultural and comparatively cultivated race," whose decadence perhaps began "before the arrival of the spaniards."** rather lower in the scale of culture than the settled pueblo indians were the hunter tribes of north america generally. they dwelt, indeed, in collections of wigwams which were partially settled, and the "long house" of the iroquois looks like an approach to the communal system of the pueblos.*** but while such races as iroquois, mandans and ojibbeways cultivated the maize plant, they depended for food more than did the pueblo peoples on success in the chase. deer, elk, buffalo, the wild turkey, the bear, with ducks and other birds, supplied the big kettle with its contents. their society was totemistic, as has already been described; kinship, as a rule, was traced through the female line; the sachems or chiefs and counsellors were elected, generally out of certain totem-kindreds; the war-chiefs were also elected when a military expedition started on the war-path; and jossakeeds or medicine-men (the title varied in different dialects) had no small share of secular power. *nadaillac, p. . ** ibid., p. . see bourke's snake-dance of the natives of arizona, and the fifth report of the archaeological institute of america, with an account of the development of pueblo buildings. it seems scarcely necessary to discuss mr. lewis morgan's attempt to show that the aztecs of cortes's time were only on the level of the modern pueblo indians. *** mr. lewis morgan's valuable league of the iroquois and the iroquois book of rites (brinton, philadelphia, ) may be consulted. in war these tribes displayed that deliberate cruelty which survived under the aztec rulers as the enormous cannibal ritual of human sacrifice. a curious point in red indian custom was the familiar institution of scalping the slain in war. other races are head-hunters, but scalping is probably peculiar to the red men and the scythians.* * herodotus, iv. . on a level, yet lower than that of the algonkin and other hunter tribes, are the american races whom circumstances have driven into desolate infertile regions; who live, like the ahts, mainly on fish; like the eskimos, in a world of frost and winter; or like the fuegians, on crustaceans and seaweed. the minute gradations of culture cannot be closely examined here, but the process is upwards, from people like the fuegians and diggers, to the builders of the kitchen-middens--probably quite equals of the eskimos***--and so through the condition of ahts. *** nadaillac, prehistoric america, p. . the resemblance between scythian and red indian manners exercised the learned in the time of grotius. it has been acutely remarked by j. g. müller, that in america one stage of society, as developed in the old world, is absent. there is no pastoral stage. the natives had neither domesticated kine, goats nor sheep. from this lack of interest in the well-being of the domesticated lower animals he is inclined to deduce the peculiarly savage cruelty of american war and american religion. sympathy was undeveloped. possibly the lack of tame animals may have encouraged the prevalence of human sacrifice. the brahmana shows how, in hindostan, the lower animals became vicarious substitutes for man in sacrifice, as the fawn of artemis or the ram of jehovah took the place of iphigenia or of isaac. cf. j. g. müller, oeschichte der amerikanisehen urreligionen, pp. , . thlinkeets, cahrocs and other rude tribes of the north-west pacific coast, to that of sioux, blackfeet, mandans, iroquois, and then to the settled state of the pueblo folk, the southern comforts of the natchez, and finally to the organisation of the mayas, and the summit occupied by the aztecs and incas. through the creeds of all these races, whether originally of the same stock or not, run many strands of religious and mythical beliefs--the very threads that are woven into the varied faiths of the old world. the dread of ghosts; the religious adoration paid to animals; the belief in kindred and protecting beasts; the worship of inanimate objects, roughly styled fetishes; a certain reverence for the great heavenly bodies, sun, moon and pleiades; a tendency to regard the stars, with all other things and phenomena, as animated and personal--with a belief in a supreme creator, these are the warp, as it were, of the fabric of american religion.* * the arguments against the borrowing of the creator from missionaries have already been stated. in one stage of culture one set of those ideas may be more predominant than in another stage, but they are present in all. the zoo-morphic or theriomorphic mythologies and creeds are nowhere more vivacious than in america. not content with the tribal zoomorphic guardian and friend, the totem, each indian was in the habit of seeking for a special animal protector of his own. this being, which he called his manitou, revealed itself to him in the long fasts of that savage sacrament which consecrates the entrance on full manhood. even in the elaborate religions of the civilised races, peruvians and aztecs, the animal deities survive, and sacred beasts gather in the shrine of pachacamac, or a rudimentary remnant of ancestral beak or feather clings to the statue of huitzilopochtli. but among the civilised peoples, in which the division of labour found its place and human ranks were minutely discriminated, the gods too had their divisions and departments. an organised polytheism prevailed, and in the temples of centeotl and tlazolteotl, herodotus or pausanias would have readily recognised the demeter and the aphrodite of mexico. there were departmental gods, and there was even an obvious tendency towards the worship of one spiritual deity, the bretwalda of all the divine kings, a god on his way to becoming single and supreme. the religions and myths of america thus display, like the myths and religions of the old world, the long evolution of human thought in its seeking after god. the rude first draughts of deity are there, and they are by no means effaced in the fantastic priestly designs of departmental divinities. the question of a primitive american monotheism has been more debated than even that of the "heno-theism" of the aryans in india. on this point it must be said that, in a certain sense, probably any race of men may be called monotheistic, just as, in another sense, christians who revere saints may be called polytheistic.* * gaidoz, revue critique, march, . it has been constantly set forth in this work that, in moments of truly religious thought, even the lowest tribes turn their minds towards a guardian, a higher power, something which watches and helps the race of men. this mental approach towards the powerful friend is an aspiration, and sometimes a dogma; it is religious, not mythological; it is monotheistic, not polytheistic. the being appealed to by the savage in moments of need or despair may go by a name which denotes a hawk, or a spider, or a grasshopper, but we may be pretty sure that little thought of such creatures is in the mind of the worshipper in his hour of need.* * there are exceptions, as when the ojibbeway, being in danger, appeals to his own private protecting manitou, perhaps a wild duck; or when the zuni cries to "ye animal gods, my fathers!" (bureau of ethnol., - , p. .) thus we can scarcely agree entirely with m. maurice vernes when he says, "all men are monotheistic in the fervour of adoration or in moments of deep thought". (l'histoire des religions, paris, , p. .) the tendency of adoration and of speculation is, however, monotheistic. again, the most ludicrous or infamous tales may be current about the adventures and misadventures of the grasshopper or the hawk. he may be, as mythically conceived, only one out of a crowd of similar magnified non-natural men or lower animals. but neither his companions nor his legend are likely to distract the thoughts of the bushman who cries to cagn for food, or of the murri who tells his boy that pund-jel watches him from the heavens, or of the solomon islander who appeals to qat as he crosses the line of reefs and foam. thus it may be maintained that whenever man turns to a guardian not of this world, not present to the senses, man is for the moment a theist, and often a monotheist. but when we look from aspiration to doctrine, from the solitary ejaculation to ritual, from religion to myth, it would probably be vain to suppose that an uncontaminated belief in one god only, the maker and creator of all things, has generally prevailed, either in america or elsewhere. such a belief, rejecting all minor deities, consciously stated in terms and declared in ritual, is the result of long ages and efforts of the highest thought, or, if once and again the intuition of deity has flashed on some lonely shepherd or sage like an inspiration, his creed has usually been at war with the popular opinions of men, and has, except in islam, won its disciples from the learned and refined. america seems no exception to so general a rule. an opposite opinion is very commonly entertained, because the narratives of missionaries, and even the novels of cooper and others, have made readers familiar with such terms as "the great spirit" in the mouths of pawnees or mohicans. on the one hand, taking the view of borrowing, mrs. e. a. smith says: "'the great spirit,' so popularly and poetically know as the god of the red man,' and 'the happy hunting-ground,' generally reported to be the indian's idea of a future state, are both of them but their ready conception of the white man's god and heaven".* dr. brinton, too,** avers that "the great spirit is a post-christian conception." in most cases these terms are entirely of modern origin, coined at the suggestion of missionaries, applied to the white man's god.... * bureau of ethnology's second report, p. . ** myths of the new world, new york, , p. . the jesuits' _relations_ state positively that there was "no one immaterial god recognised by the algonkin tribes, and that the title 'the great manito' was introduced first by themselves in its personal sense." the statement of one missionary cannot be taken, of course, to bind all the others. the pere paul le jeune remarks: "the savages give the name of manitou to whatsoever in nature, good or evil, is superior to man. therefore when we speak of god, they sometimes call him 'the good manitou,' that is, 'the good spirit'."* the same pere paul le jeune** says that by manitou his flock meant _un ange ou quelque nature puissante. il y'en a de bons et de mauvais_. the evidence of pere hierosme lallemant*** has already been alluded to, but it may be as well to repeat that, while he attributes to the indians a kind of unconscious religious theism, he entirely denies them any monotheistic dogmas. with tertullian, he writes, _exclamant vocem naturaliter christianam_. "to speak truth, these peoples have derived from their fathers no knowledge of a god, and before we set foot in their country they had nothing but vain fables about the origin of the world. nevertheless, savages as they were, there did abide in their hearts a secret sentiment of divinity, and of a first principle, author of all things, whom, not knowing, they yet invoked. in the forest, in the chase, on the water, in peril by sea, they call him to their aid." * relations de la novelle france, , p. . ** relations, , p. . *** , p. . this guardian, it seems, receives different names in different circumstances. myth comes in; the sky is a god; a manitou dwelling in the north sends ice and snow; another dwells in the waters, and many in the winds.* the pere allouez** says, "they recognise no sovereign of heaven or earth". here the good father and all who advocate a theory of borrowing are at variance with master thomas heriot, "that learned _mathematician_" ( ). in virginia "there is one chiefe god, that has beene from all eternitie," who "made other gods of a principal order".*** near new plymouth, kiehtan was the chief god, and the souls of the just abode in his mansions.**** we have already cited alione, and shown that he and the other gods found by the first explorers, are certainly not of christian origin. * the confessions of kah-ge-ga-gah bowh, a converted crane of the ojibbeways, may be rather a suspicious document. kah, to shorten his noble name, became a preacher and platform- speaker of somewhat windy eloquence, according to mr. longfellow, who had heard him. his report is that in youth he sought the favour of the manitous (mon-e-doos he calls them), but also revered ke-sha-mon-e-doo, the benevolent spirit, "who made the earth with all its variety and smiling beauty". but his narrative is very unlike the indian account of the manufacture of the world by this or that animal, already given in "myths of the origin of things". the benevolent spirit, according to kah's father, a medicine- man, dwelt in the sun (copway, recollections of a forest life, london, s. a. pp. , ). practical and good-natured actions of the great spirit are recorded on p. . he directs starving travellers by means of dreams. ** relations, , p. . *** arber, captain john smith, p. . **** op. cit., p. . a curious account of red indian religion may be extracted from a work styled _a narrative of the captivity and adventures of john tanner during a thirty years' residence among the indians_ (new york, ). tanner was caught when a boy, and lived as an indian, even in religion. the great spirit constantly appears in his story as a moral and protecting deity, whose favour and help may be won by "prayers, which are aided by magical ceremonies and dances. tanner accepted and acted on this part of the indian belief, while generally rejecting the medicine men, who gave themselves out for messengers or avaters of the great spirit. tanner had frequent visions of the great spirit in the form of a handsome young man, who gave him information about the future. "do i not know," said the appearance, "when you are hungry and in distress? i look down upon you at all times, and it is not necessary you should call me with such loud cries". (p. ). almost all idea of a tendency towards monotheism vanishes when we turn from the religions to the myths of the american peoples. doubtless it may be maintained that the religious impulse or sentiment never wholly dies, but, after being submerged in a flood of fables, reappears in the philosophic conception of a pure deity entertained by a few of the cultivated classes of mexico and peru. but our business just now is with the flood of fables. from north to south the more general beliefs are marked with an early dualism, and everywhere are met the two opposed figures of a good and a bad extra-natural being in the shape of a man or beast. the eskimos, for example, call the better being torngarsuk. "they don't all agree about his form or aspect. some say he has no form at all; others describe him as a great bear, or as a great man with one arm, or as small as a finger. he is immortal, but might be killed by the intervention of the god crepitus."* * the circumstances in which this is possible may be sought for in crantz, history of greenland, london, , vol. i. p. "the other great but malignant spirit is a nameless female," the wife or mother of torngarsuk. she dwells under the sea in a habitation guarded by a cerberus of her own, a huge dog, which may be surprised, for he sleeps for one moment at a time. torngarsuk is not the maker of all things, but still is so much of a deity that many, "when they hear of god and his omnipotence, are readily led to the supposition that probably we mean their torngarsuk ". all spirits are called torngak, and _soak = great_; hence the good spirit of the eskimos in his limited power is "the great spirit".* in addition to a host of other spirits, some of whom reveal themselves affably to all, while others are only accessible to angakut or medicine-men, the eskimos have a pluto, or hades, or charos of their own. he is meagre, dark, sullen, and devours the bowels of the ghosts. there are spirits of fire, water, mountains, winds; there are dog-faced demons, and the souls of abortions become hideous spectres, while the common ghost of civilised life is familiar. the spirit of a boy's dead mother appeared to him in open day, and addressed him in touching language: "be not afraid; i am thy mother, and love thee!" for here, too, in this frozen and haunted world, love is more strong than death.** eskimo myth is practical, and, where speculative, is concerned with the fortunes of men, alive or dead, as far as these depend on propitiating the gods or extra-natural beings. the eskimo myth of the origin of death would find its place among the other legends of this sort.*** * crantz, op. cit., i. . note. ** op. cit., i. *** cf. modern mythology, "the origin of death". as a rule, eskimo myth, as far as it has been investigated, rather resembles that of the zulus. _märchen_ or romantic stories are very common; tales about the making of things and the actions of the pre-human beings are singularly scarce. except for some moon and star myths, and the tale of the origin of death, hardly any myths, properly so called, are reported. "only very scanty traces," says rink, "have been found of any kind of ideas having been formed as to the origin and early history of the world and the ruling powers or deities."* * he adds that this "seems sufficiently to show that such mythological speculations have been, in respect to other nations, also the product of a later stage of culture". that this position is erroneous is plain from the many myths here collected from peoples lower in culture than the eskimos. cf. rink, _tales and traditions of the eskimos_. turning from the eskimos to the ahts of vancouver's island, we find them in possession of rather a copious mythology. without believing exactly in a _supreme_, they have the conception of a _superior_ being, quawteaht, no mere local nor tribal deity, but known in every village, like osiris in egypt. he is also, like osiris and baiame, the chief of a beautiful, far-off, spiritual country, but he had his adventures and misadventures while he dwelt on earth. the malevolent aspect of things--storms, disease and the rest--is either quawteaht enraged, or the manifestation of his opponent in the primitive dualism, tootooch or chay-her, the hades or pluto of the ahts. like hades, chay-her is both a person and a place--the place of the dead discomforted, and the ruler of that land, a boneless form with a long grey beard. the exploits of quawteaht in the beginning of things were something between those of zeus and of prometheus. "he is the general framer--i do not say creator of all things, though some special things are excepted."* quawteaht, in the legend of the loon (who was once an injured indian, and still wails his wrongs), is represented as conscious of the conduct of men, and as prone to avenge misdeeds.** in person quawteaht was of short stature, with very strong hairy arms and legs.*** there is a touch of unconscious darwinism in this description of "the first indian". in quawteaht mingle the rough draughts of a god and of an adam, a creator and a first man. this mixture is familiar in the zulu unkulunkulu. unlike prometheus, quawteaht did not steal the seed of fire. it was stolen by the cuttlefish, and in some legends quawteaht was the original proprietor. like most gods, he could assume the form of the beasts, and it was in the shape of a great whale that he discomfited his opponent tootooch.*** it does not appear that tootooch receives any worship or adoration, such as is offered to the sun and moon. * sproat, savage life, london, , p. . ** op. cit., p. . ***ibid. i. p. . leaving the ahts for the thlinkeets, we find yehl, the god or hero of the introduction of the arts, who, like the christ of the finnish epic or maui in new zealand, was born by a miraculous birth. his mother was a thlinkeet woman, whose boys had all been slain. as she wandered disconsolate by the sea-shore, a dolphin or whale, taking pity upon her. bade her drink a little salt water and swallow a pebble. she did so, and in due time bore a child, yehl, the hero of the thlinkeets. once, in his youth, yehl shot a supernatural crane, skinned it, and whenever he wished to fly, clothed himself in the bird's skin. yet he is always known as a raven. hence there is much the same confusion between yehl and the bird as between amun in egypt and the ram in whose skin he was once pleased to reveal himself to a mortal. in yehl's youth occurred the deluge, produced by the curse of an unfriendly uncle of his own; but the deluge was nothing to yehl, who flew up to heaven, and anchored himself to a cloud by his beak till the waters abated. like most heroes of his kind, yehl brought light to men. the heavenly bodies in his time were kept in boxes by an old chief. yehl, by an ingenious stratagem, got possession of the boxes. to fly up to the firmament with the treasure, to open the boxes, and to stick stars, sun and moon in their proper places in the sky, was to the active yehl the work of a moment. fire he stole, like prometheus, carrying a brand in his beak till he reached the thlinkeet shore. there the fire dropped on stones and sticks, from which it is still obtained by striking the flints or rubbing together the bits of wood. water, like fire, was a monopoly in those days, and one khanukh kept all of it in his own well. khanukh was the ancestor of the wolf family among the thlinkeets, as yehl is the first father of the stock called ravens. the wolf and raven thus answer to the mythic creative crow and cockatoo in australian mythology, and take sides in the primitive dualism. when yehl went to steal water from khanukh, the pair had a discussion, exactly like that between joukahainen and waina-moinen in the epic of the finns, as to which of them had been longer in the world. "before the world stood in its place, i was there," says yehl; and wainamoinen says, "when earth was made, i was there; when space was unrolled, i launched the sun on his way". similar boasts occur in the poems of empedocles and of taliesin. khanukh, however, proved to be both older and more skilled in magic than yehl. yet the accomplishment of flying once more stood yehl in good stead, and he carried off the water, as odin, in the form of a bird, stole suttung's mead, by flying off with it in his beak. yehl then went to his own place.* in the myths of the other races on the north-west pacific coast nothing is more remarkable than the theriomorphic character of the heroes, who are also to a certain extent gods and makers of things. the koniagas have their ancestral bird and dog, demiurges, makers of sea, rivers, hills, yet subject to "a great deity called schljam schoa," of whom they are the messengers and agents.** the aleuts have their primeval dog-hero, and also a great old man, who made people, like deucalion, and as in the macusi myth, by throwing stones over his shoulder.*** * bancroft, iii. - [holmberg, eth. skiz., p. ]. ** ibid., , quoting dall's alaska, p. , and lisiansky's voyage, pp. , . *** brett's indians qf guiana, p. . concerning the primal mythical beings of the great hunter and warrior tribes of america, algonkins, hurons and iroquois, something has already been said in the chapter on "myths of the origin of things". it is the peculiarity of such heroes or gods of myth as the opposing red indian good and evil deities that they take little part in the affairs of the world when once these have been started.* ioskeha and tawiscara, the good and bad primeval brothers, have had their wars, and are now, in the opinion of some, the sun and the moon.** the benefits of ioskeha to mankind are mainly in the past; as, for example, when, like another indra, he slew the great frog that had swallowed the waters, and gave them free course over earth.*** * erminie smith, in _report of bureau of ethnology_, - , publishes a full, but not very systematic, account of iroquois gods of to-day. thunder, the wind, and echo are the chief divine figures. the titans or jotuns, the opposed supernatural powers, are giants of stone. "among the most ancient of the deities were their most remote ancestors, certain animals who later were transformed into human shapes, the name of the animals being preserved by their descendants, who have used them to designate their gentes or clans." the iroquois have a strange and very touching version of the myth of orpheus and eurydice (op. cit., p. ). it appears to be native and unborrowed; all the details are pure iroquois. ** relations de la nouvelle france, , p. . *** ibid. i. p. . ioskeha is still so far serviceable that he "makes the pot boil," though this may only be a way of recalling the benefits conferred on man by him when he learned from the turtle how to make fire. ioskeha, moreover is thanked for success in the chase, because he let loose the animals from the cave in which they lived at the beginning. as they fled he spoiled their speed by wounding them with arrows; only one escaped, the wind-swift wolf. some devotees regarded ioskeha as the teacher of agriculture and the giver of great harvests of maize. in ioskeha was seen, all meagre and skeleton-like, tearing a man's leg with his teeth, a prophecy of famine. a more agreeable apparition of loskeha is reported by the pere barthelemy vimont.* when an iroquois was fishing, "a demon appeared to him in the shape of a tall and beautiful young man. 'be not afraid,' said this spirit; 'i am the master of earth, whom you hurons worship under the name of ioskeha; the french give me the erroneous name of jesus, but they know me not.'" ioskeha then gave some directions for curing the small-pox. the indian's story is, of course, coloured by what he knew of missionary teaching, but the incident should be compared with the "medicine dream" of john tanner. the sky, conceived as a person, held a place rather in the religion than in the mythology of the indians. he was approached with prayer and sacrifice, and "they implored the sky in all their necessities".** "the sky hears us," they would say in taking an oath, and they appeased the wrath of the sky with a very peculiar semi-cannibal sacrifice.*** * relations, , p. . ** op. cit. i. , p. . *** for pawnees and blackfeet see grinnell, pawnee and blackfoot legends ( vols.). what ioskeha was to the iroquois, michabo or manibozho was to the algonkin tribes. there has been a good deal of mystification about michabo or manibozho, or messou, who was probably, in myth, a hare _sans phrase_, but who has been converted by philological processes into a personification of light or dawn. it has already been seen that the wild north pacific peoples recognise in their hero and demiurge animals of various species; dogs, ravens, muskrats and coyotes have been found in this lofty estimation, and the utes believe in "cin-au-av, the ancient of wolves".* it would require some labour to derive all the ancient heroes and gods from misconceptions about the names of vast natural phenomena like light and dawn, and it is probable that michabo or mani-bozho, the great hare of the algonkins, is only a successful apotheosised totem like the rest. his legend and his dominion are very widely spread. dr. brinton himself (p. ) allows that the great hare is a totem. perhaps our earliest authority about the mythical great hare in america is william strachey's _travaile into virginia_.** * powell, in bureau of ethnology, - , p. . ** circa ; reprinted by the hakjuyt society. among other information as to the gods of the natives, strachey quotes the remarks of a certain indian: "we have five gods in all; our chief god appears often unto us in the likeness of a mighty great hare; the other four have no visible shape, but are indeed the four wynds". an indian, after hearing from the english the biblical account of the creation, explained that "our god, who takes upon him the shape of a hare,... at length devised and made divers men and women". he also drove away the cannibal manitous. "that godlike hare made the water and the fish and a great deare." the other four gods, in envy, killed the hare's deer. this is curiously like the bushman myth of cagn, the mantis insect, and his favourite eland. "the godly hare's house" is at the place of sun-rising; there the souls of good indians "feed on delicious fruits with that great hare," who is clearly, so far, the virginian osiris.* dr. brinton has written at some length on "this chimerical beast," whose myth prevails, he says, "from the remotest wilds of the north-west to the coast of the atlantic, from the southern boundary of carolina to the cheerless swamps of hudson's bay.... the totem" (totem-kindred probably is meant) "clan which bore his name was looked up to with peculiar respect." from this it would appear that the hare was a totem like another, and had the same origin, whatever that may have been. according to the pere allouez, the indians "ont en veneration toute particuliere, une certaine beste chimerique, qu'ils n'ont jamais veue sinon en songe, ils tappelient missibizi," which appears to be a form of michabo and mani-bozho.** * _history of travaile_, pp. , . this hare we have alluded to in vol. i. p. , but it seems worth while again to examine dr. brinton's theory more closely. ** relations, , p. in the same pere allouez gives some myths about michabo. "c'est-a-dire le grand lievre," who made the world, and also invented fishing-nets. he is the master of life, and can leap eight leagues at one bound, and is beheld by his servants in dreams. in pere paul le jeune gives a longer account of messou, "a variation of the same name," according to dr. brinton, as michabo. this messou reconstructed the drowned world out of a piece of clay brought him by an otter, which succeeded after the failure of a raven sent out by messou. he afterwards married a muskrat, by whom he became the father of a flourishing family. "le brave reparateur de l'univers est le frere aisné de toutes les bestes," says the mocking missionary.* messou has the usual powers of shape-shifting, which are the common accomplishments of the medicine-man or conjuror, _se transformant en mille sortes d'animaux.** he is not so much a creator as a demiurge, inferior to a mysterious being called atahocan. but atahocan is obsolescent, and his name is nearly equivalent to an old wife's fable, a story of events _au temps jadis_.*** "le mot _nitatoho-can signifie, 'je dis un vieux conte fait à plaisir'." * _relations_, , p. . ** op. cit., , p. . *** op. cit., , p. . these are examples of the legends of michabo or manibozho, the great hare. he appears in no way to differ from the other animals of magical renown, who, in so many scores of savage myths, start the world on its way and instruct men in the arts. his fame may be more widely spread, but his deeds are those of eagle, crow, wolf, coyote, spider, grasshopper, and so forth, in remote parts of the world. his legend is the kind of legend whose origin we ascribe to the credulous fancy of early peoples, taking no distinction between themselves and the beasts. if the hare was indeed the totem of a successful and honoured kindred, his elevation is perfectly natural and intelligible. dr. brinton, in his _myths of the new world_ (new york, ), adopts a different line of explanation. michabo, he says, "was originally the highest divinity recognised by them, powerful and beneficent beyond all others, maker of the heavens and the world". we gladly welcome him in that capacity in religion. but it has already been shown that michabo is only, in myth, the _reparateur de l'univers_, and that he has a sleeping partner--a deity retired from business. moreover, dr. brinton's account of michabo, "powerful and beneficent beyond all others, maker of the heavens and the world," clashes with his own statement, that "of monotheism as displayed in the one personal definite god of the semitic races" (to whom dr. brinton's description of michabo applies) "there is not a single instance on the american continent."* the residences and birthplaces of michabo are as many as those of the gods of greece. it is true that in some accounts, as in strachey's, "his bright home is in the _rising_ sun". it does not follow that the hare had any original connection with the dawn. but this connection dr. brinton seeks to establish by philological arguments. according to this writer, the names (manibozho, nanibozhu, missibizi, michabo, messou) "all seem compounded, according to well-ascertained laws of algonkin euphony, from the words corresponding to _great_ and _hare or rabbit_, or the first two perhaps from _spirit_ and _hare_".** but this seeming must not be trusted. we must attentively examine the algonkin root _wab_, when it will appear "that in fact there are two roots having this sound. one is the initial syllable of the word translated hare or rabbit, but the other means _white_, and from it is derived the words for the east, the dawn, the light, the day, and the morning. beyond a doubt (sic) this is the compound in the names michabo and manibozho, which therefore mean the great light, the spirit of light, of the dawn, or the east." * relations, pp. , . ** op. cit., p. . then the war of manibozho became the struggle of light and darkness. finally, michabo is recognised by dr. brinton as "the not unworthy personification of the purest conceptions they possessed concerning the father of all,"* though, according to dr. brinton in an earlier passage, they can hardly be said to have possessed such conceptions.** we are not responsible for these inconsistencies. the degeneracy to the belief in a "mighty great hare," a "chimerical beast," was the result of a misunderstanding of the root _wab_ in their own language by the algonkins, a misunderstanding that not only affected the dialects in which the root _wab_ occurred in the hare's name, but those in which it did not! on the whole, the mythology of the great hunting and warrior tribes of north america is peopled by the figures of ideal culture-heroes, partly regarded as first men, partly as demiurges and creators. they waver in outward aspect between the beautiful youths of the "medicine-dreams" and the bestial guise of totems and protecting animals. they have a tendency to become identified with the sun, like osiris in egypt, or with the moon. they are adepts in all the arts of the medicine-man, and they are especially addicted to animal metamorphosis. in the long winter evenings, round the camp-fire, the indians tell such grotesque tales of their pranks and adventures as the greeks told of their gods, and the middle ages of the saints.*** * relations, p. . ** op. cit., p. . *** a full collection of these, as they survive in oral tradition, with an obvious european intermixture, will be found in mr. leland's _algonquin legends_, london, , and in schoolcraft's _hiawatha legends_, london, . see especially the manibozho legend. the stage in civilisation above that of the hunter tribes is represented in the present day by the settled pueblo indians of new mexico and arizona. concerning the faith of the zunis we fortunately possess an elaborate account by mr. frank cushing.* mr. cushing was for long a dweller in the clay _pueblos_ of the zuñis, and is an initiated member of their sacred societies. he found that they dealt at least as freely in metaphysics as the maoris, and that, like the australians, "they suppose sun, moon and stars, the sky, earth and sea, in all their phenomena and elements, and all inanimate objects, as well as plants, animals and men, to belong to one great system of all conscious and interrelated life, in which the degrees of relationship seem to be determined largely, if not wholly, by the degrees of resemblance". this, of course, is stated in terms of modern self-conscious speculation. when much the same opinions are found among the kamilaroi and kurnai of australia, they are stated thus: "some of the totems divide not mankind only, but the whole universe into what may almost be called gentile divisions".** * report of bureau of ethnology, washington, - . ** kamilaroi and kurnai, p. .(p. ). mrs. langloh parker, in a letter to me, remarks that baiame alone is outside of this conception, and is common to all classes, and totems, and class divisions. "everything in nature is divided between the classes. the wind belongs to one and the rain to another. the sun is wutaroo and the moon is yungaroo.... the south australian savage looks upon the universe as the great tribe, to one of whose divisions he himself belongs, and all things, animate or inanimate, which belong to his class are parts of the body corporate, whereof he himself is part. they are almost parts of himself". manifestly this is the very condition of mind out of which mythology, with all existing things acting as _dramatis personæ_, must inevitably arise. the zuni philosophy, then, endows all the elements and phenomena of nature with personality, and that personality is blended with the personality of the beast "whose operations most resemble its manifestation". thus lightning is figured as a serpent, and the serpent holds a kind of mean position between lightning and man. strangely enough, flint arrow-heads, as in europe, are regarded as the gift of thunder, though the zunis have not yet lost the art of making, nor entirely abandoned, perhaps, the habit of using them. once more, the supernatural beings of zuni religion are almost invariably in the shape of animals, or in monstrous semi-theriomorphic form. there is no general name for the gods, but the appropriate native terms mean "creators and masters," "makers," and "finishers," and "immortals". all the classes of these, including the class that specially protects the animals necessary to men, "are believed to be related by blood ". but among these essences, the animals are nearest to man, most accessible, and therefore most worshipped, sometimes as mediators. but the zuni has mediators even between him and his animal mediators, and these are fetishes, usually of stone, which accidentally resemble this or that beast-god in shape. sometimes, as in the egyptian sphinx, the natural resemblance of a stone to a living form has been accentuated and increased by art. the stones with a natural resemblance to animals are most valued when they are old and long in use, and the orthodox or priestly theory is that they are petrifactions of this or that beast. flint arrow-heads and feathers are bound about them with string. all these beliefs and practices inspire the zuñi epic, which is repeated, at stated intervals, by the initiated to the neophytes. mr. cushing heard a good deal of this archaic poem in his sacred capacity. the epic contains a zuñi cosmogony. men, as in so many other myths, originally lived in the dark places of earth in four caverns. like the children of uranus and gæa, they murmured at the darkness. the "holder of the paths of life," the sun, now made two beings out of his own substance; they fell to the earth, armed with rainbow and lightning, a shield and a magical flint knife. the new-comers cut the earth with a flint-knife, as qat cut the palpable dark with a blade of red obsidian in melanesia. men were then lifted through the hole on the shield, and began their existence in the sunlight, passing gradually through the four caverns. men emerged on a globe still very wet; for, as in the iroquois and other myths, there had been a time when "water was the world ". the two benefactors dried the earth and changed the monstrous beasts into stones. it is clear that this myth accounts at once for the fossil creatures found in the rocks and for the merely accidental resemblance to animals of stones now employed as fetishes.* in the stones is believed to survive the "medicine" or magic, the spiritual force of the animals of old. * report, etc, p. . the zuñis have a culture-hero as usual, po'shai-an-k'ia, who founded the mysteries, as demeter did in greece, and established the sacred orders. he appeared in human form, taught men agriculture, ritual, and then departed. he is still attentive to prayer. he divided the world into regions, and gave the animals their homes and functions, much as heitsi eibib did in namaqualand. these animals carry out the designs of the culture-hero, and punish initiated zuñis who are careless of their religious duties and ritual. the myths of the sacred beasts are long and dismal, chiefly aetiological, or attempts to account by a fictitious narrative for the distribution and habits of the various creatures. zuñi prayers are mainly for success in the chase; they are directed to the divine beasts, and are reinforced by magical ceremonies. yet a prayer for sport may end with such a truly religious petition as this: "grant me thy light; give me and my children a good trail across life ". again we read: "this day, my fathers, ye animal gods, although this country be filled with enemies, render me precious.... oh, give ye shelter of my heart from them!" yet in religious hymns the zuñis celebrate ahonawilona, "the maker and container of all, the all father," the uncreated, the unbegotten, who "thought himself out into space". here is monotheism among fetishists.* * cushing, _report, ethnol. bureau_, - , p. . the faith of the zuñis, with its metaphysics, its devoutness and its magic ritual, may seem a kind of introduction to the magic, the ritual and the piety of the ancient aztecs. the latter may have grown, in a long course of forgotten ages, out of elements like those of the zuñi practice, combined with the atrocious cruelty of the warrior tribes of the north. perhaps in no race is the extreme contrast between low myth, and the highest speculation, that of "the eternal thinking himself out into space," so marked as among the zuñis. the highly abstract conception of ahonawilona was unknown to europeans when this work first appeared. chapter xv. mexican divine myths european eye-witnesses of mexican ritual--diaz, his account of temples and gods__sahagun, his method--theories of the god huitzilopochtli--totemistic and other elements in his image and legend--illustrations from latin religion-- "god-eating"--the calendar--other gods--their feasts and cruel ritual--their composite character--parallels from ancient classical peoples--moral aspects of aztec gods. the religion of the mexicans was a compound of morality and cruelty so astonishing that its two aspects have been explained as the contributions of two separate races. the wild aztecs from the north are credited with having brought to a high pitch of organised ritual the ferocious customs of the red indians. the tortures which the tribes inflicted on captives taken in war were transmuted into the cannibal sacrifices and orgies of bloodshed with which the aztec temples reeked. the milder elements, again, the sense of sin which found relief in confession and prayer, are assigned to the influence of mayas, and especially of toltecs, a shadowy and perhaps an imaginary people. our ignorance of mexican history before the spanish conquest is too deep to make any such theory of the influence of race on religion in mexico more than merely plausible. the facts of ritual and of myth are better known, thanks to the observations of such an honest soldier as bernal diaz and such a learned missionary as sahagun. the author of the _historia general de las cosas de nueva españa_ was a spanish franciscan, and one of the earliest missionaries ( ) in mexico. he himself describes the method by which he collected his information about the native religion. he summoned together the chief men of one of the provinces, who, in turn, chose twelve old men well seen in knowledge of the mexican practices and antiquities. several of them were also scholars in the european sense, and had been taught latin. the majority of the commission collected and presented "pictures which were the writings formerly in use among them," and the "grammarians" or latin-learned aztecs wrote in european characters and in aztec the explanations of these designs. when sahagun changed his place of residence, these documents were again compared, re-edited and enlarged by the assistance of the native gentlemen in his new district, and finally the whole was passed through yet a third "sieve," as sahagun says, in the city of mexico. the completed manuscript had many ups and downs of fortune, but sahagun's book remains a source of almost undisputed authenticity. probably no dead religion whose life was among a people ignorant of syllabaries or of the alphabet is presented to us in a more trustworthy form than the religion of mexico. it is necessary, however, to discount the _theories_ of sahagun and his converts, who though they never heard of euhemerus, habitually applied the euhemeristic doctrine to their facts. they decided that the gods of the aztecs had once been living men and conjurors, worshipped after their decease. it is possible, too, that a strain of catholic piety has found its way into the long prayers of the heathen penitents, as reported by sahagun.* sahagun gives us a full account of the mexican mythology. what the gods, as represented by idols and adored in ritual, were like, we learn from a gallant catholic soldier, bernal diaz.** "above the altars," he writes, "were two shapes like giants, wondrous for height and hugeness. the first on the right was huichilobos (huitzilopochtli), their god of war. he had a big head and trunk, his eyes great and terrible, and so inlaid with precious stones that all his head and body shone with stars thereof. great snakes of gold and fine stones were girdled about his flanks; in one hand he held a bow, and arrows in the other, and a little idol called his page stood by his side.... thereby also were braziers, wherein burned the hearts of three indians, torn from their bodies that very day, and the smoke of them and the savour of incense were the sacrifice. the walls of this oratory were black and dripping with gouts of blood, and likewise the floor that stank horribly." such was the aspect of a mexican shrine before the spaniards introduced their faith. * for a brief account of sahagun and the fortunes of his book, see bancroft, _native races of the pacific states_, iii. , note . the references here to sahagun's own work are to the translation by mm. jourdanet and simeon, published by masson, paris, . bernal diaz is referred to in the french edition published by m. lemerre in . ** _veridique histoire_, chap, xcii. as to the mythical habits of the aztec olympians in general, sahagun observes that "they were friends of disguise, and changed themselves often into birds or savage beasts". hence he, or his informants, infer that the gods have originally been necromancers or medicine-men, now worshipped after death; a natural inference, as magical feats of shape-shifting are commonly ascribed "everywhere to witches and warlocks". as a matter of fact, the aztec gods, though bedizened with the attributes of mortal conjurors, and with the fur and feathers of totems, are, for the most part, the departmental deities of polytheism, each ruling over some province of nature or of human activity. combined with these are deities who, in their origin, were probably ideal culture-heroes, like yehl, or qat, or prometheus. the long and tedious myths of quetzalcoatl and tezcatlipoca appear to contain memories of a struggle between the gods or culture-heroes of rival races. such struggles were natural, and necessary, perhaps, before a kind of syncretism and a general tolerance could unite in peace the deities of a realm composed of many tribes originally hostile. in a cultivated people, made up out of various conquered and amalgamated tribes, we must expect polytheism, because their olympus is a kind of divine representative assembly. anything like monotheism, in such a state, must be the result of philosophic reflection. "a laughable matter it is," says bernal diaz, "that in each province the indians have their gods, and the gods of one province or town are of no profit to the people of another. thus have they an infinite number of idols, to each of which they sacrifice."* * bernal diaz, chap. xcii. he might have described, in the same words, the local gods of the egyptian nomes, for a similar state of things preceded, and to some extent survived, the syncretic efforts of egyptian priesthood. meanwhile, the _teocallis_, or temples of mexico, gave hospitable shelter to this mixed multitude of divinities. hard by huitzilopochtli was tezcatlipoca (tezcatepuca, bernal calls him), whose chapel "stank worse than all the shambles of castile". he had the face of a bear and shining eyes, made of mirrors called _tezcut_. he was understood by bernal to be the mexican hades, or warden of the dead. not far off was an idol, half-human and half-lizard, "the god of fruits and harvest, i remember not his name," and all his chapel walls dripped blood. in the medley of such a pantheon, it is difficult to arrange the deities on any principle of order. beginning with huitzilopochtli, as perhaps the most famous, it is to be observed that he indubitably became and was recognised as a god of battles, and that he was also the guide and protector who (according to the aztec painted scriptures) led the wandering fathers through war and wilderness to the promised land of mexico. his birth was one of those miraculous conceptions which we have seen so frequently in the myths and _märchen_ of the lower and the higher races. it was not by swallowing a berry, as in finland, but by cherishing in her bosom a flying ball of feathers that the devout woman, coatlicue, became the mother of huitzilopochtli. all armed he sprang to the light, like athene from the head of zeus, and slew his brothers that had been born by natural generation. from that day he received names of dread, answering to _deimos_ and _phobos_.* * clavigero, _staria ant. del mexico_, ii. , ; bancroft, iii. . by another myth, euhemeristic in character, huitziton (the name is connected with _huitzilin_, the humming-bird) was the leader of the aztecs in their wanderings. on his death or translation, his skull gave oracles, like the head of bran in the welsh legend. sahagun, in the first page of his work, also euhemerises huitzilopochtli, and makes him out to have been a kind of hercules _doublé_ with a medicine-man; but all this is mere conjecture. the position of huitzilopochtli as a war-god, guardian and guide through the wilderness is perfectly established, and it is nearly as universally agreed that his name connects him with the humming-bird, which his statue wore on its left foot. he also carried a green bunch of plumage upon his head, shaped like the bill of a small bird now, as j. g. müller has pointed out, the legend and characteristics of huitzilopochtli are reproduced, by a coincidence startling even in mythology, in the legend and characteristics of picus in latium. just as huitzilopochtli wore the humming-bird indicated by his name on his foot, so picus was represented with the woodpecker of his name on his head.* * j. g. muller, _uramerik. rel_., p. . on the subject of picus one may consult ovid, _metamorph_, xiv. . here the story runs that circe loved picus, whom she met in the woods. he disdained her caresses, and she turned him into the woodpecker, "with his garnet head". "et fulvo cervix pnecingitur auro." according to virgil (j. sn., vii. ), the statue of this picus was settled in an old laurentian temple or palace of unusual sanctity, surrounded by images of the earlier gods. the woodpeckers, _pici_, are known _martio cognomine_, says pliny ( , , , § ), and so connected with the roman war-god, _picas martius_. in his romische mythologie, i. , , preller makes no use of these materials for comparison, though the conduct and character of the other beast of war, the wolf, as guide and protector of the hirpi (wolves), and worshipped by them with wolf-dances, is an obvious survival of totemism. the picini have their animal leader, picus, the woodpecker, the hirpi have their animal leader, the wolf, just as the humming-bird was the leader of the aztecs. in these latin legends, as in the legends of huit-zilopochtli, the basis, as j. g. müller sees, is the bird--the humming-bird in one case, the woodpecker in the other. the bird is then euhemerised or brought into anthropomorphic form. it is fabled that he was originally a man (like picus before circe enchanted him to a bird's shape), or, in mexico, a man named huitziton, who during the aztec migrations heard and pursued a little bird that cried "tinni," that is, "follow, follow".* now we are all familiar with classical legends of races that were guided by a bird or beast to their ultimate seats. müller mentions battus and the raven, the chalcidians and the dove, the cretans and the dolphin, which was apollo, cadmus and the cow; the hirpi, or wolves, who followed the wolf. in the same way the picini followed the woodpecker, _picus_, from whom they derived their name, and carried a woodpecker on their banners. thus we may connect both the sabine war-gods and the bird of the mexican war-gods with the many guiding and protecting animals which occur in fable. now a guiding and protecting animal is almost a synonym for a totem. that the sabine woodpecker had been a totem may be pretty certainly established on the evidence of plutarch. the people called by his name (picini) declined, like totemists everywhere, to eat their holy bird, in this case the woodpecker.** * bancroft, iii. , note, quoting torquemada. ** quoest. rom., xxi. the inference is that the humming-bird whose name enters into that of huitzilopochtli, and whose feathers were worn on his heel, had been the totem of an aztec kindred before huitzilopochtli, like picus, was anthropomorphised. on the other hand, if huitzilopochtli was once the baiame of the aztecs, their guide in their wanderings, he might, in myth, be mixed up with a totem or other worshipful animal. "before this god was represented in human form, he was merely a little humming-bird, huitziton; but as the anthropomorphic processes advanced, the bird became an attribute, emblem, or symbol of the deity."* if huitzilopochtli is said to have given the aztecs fire, that boon is usually regarded by many races, from normandy to australia, as the present given to men by a bird; for example, the fire-crested wren.** thus understood, the ornithological element in huitzilopochtli is purely totemic. while accepting the reduction of him to a hummingbird, m. reville ingeniously concludes that he was "a derivative form of the sun, and especially of the sun of the fair season". if the bird was worshipped, it was not as a totem, but as "the divine messenger of the spring," like "the plover among the latins".*** attempts have been made, with no great success, to discover the cosmical character of the god from the nature of his feasts. * j. g. muller, op. cit. i. p. . ** bosquet, la normandie merveilleuse, paris, ; brough smyth, aborigines of victoria, vol. i.; kuhn, herabkunft, p. ; journal anthrop. inst., november, ; sproat, savage life (the cuttlefish), p. ; bancroft, iii. . *** hibbert lectures, , english trans., pp. , . the woodpecker seems a better latin example than the plover. the mexican calendar, "the aztec year," as described at considerable length by sahagun, was a succession of feasts, marked by minute and elaborate rites of a magical character. the gods of rain were frequently propitiated, so was the goddess of maize, the mountain god, the mother of the gods, and many other divinities. the general theory of worship was the adoration of a deity, first by innumerable human sacrifices, next by the special sacrifice of a man for male gods, of a woman for each goddess. the latter victims were regarded as the living images or incarnations of the divinities in each case; for no system of worship carried farther the identification of the god with the sacrifice, and of both with the officiating priest. the connection was emphasised by the priest's wearing the newly-flayed skins of the victims, just as in greece, egypt and assyria the fawn-skin, or bull-hide, or goat-skin, or fish-skin of the victims is worn by the celebrants. finally, an image of the god was made out of paste, and this was divided into morsels and eaten in a hideous sacrament by those who communicated.* * copious details as to the sacraments, human sacrifices, paste figures of gods, and identity of god and victim, will be found in sahagun's second and third books. the _magical_ character of the ritual deserves particular attention. see many examples of gods made of flour and eaten in liebrecht's _zur volkskunde_, "der aufgegessene gott," p. . it will be noted that the feasts of the corn goddess, like the rites of demeter, were celebrated with torch-dances. the ritual of the month quecholli (iii. , ) is a mere medicine hunt, as tanner and the red indians call it, a procuring of magical virtue for the arrows, as in the zuni mysteries to- day. compare _report of bureau of ethnology_, vol. ii., "zuni prey gods". from the special ritual of huitzilopochtli mr. tylor conjectures that this "inextricable compound parthenogenetic god may have been originally" a nature deity whose life and death were connected with the year".* this theory is based on the practice at the feast called panquetzaliztli.** "his paste idol was shot through with an arrow," says mr. tylor, "and being thus killed, was divided into morsels and eaten; wherefore the ceremony was called _teoqualo_, or 'god-eating,' and this was associated with the winter solstice." m. reville says that this feast coincided with our month of december, the beginning of the cold and dry season, huitzilopochtli would die with the verdure, the flowers and all the beauteous adornments of spring and summer; but like adonis, like osiris, and so many other solar deities, he only died to live and to return again. before identifying him with the sun, it may be remarked that the aztec feast of the return of the gods was celebrated in the twelfth month and the paste sacrifice of huitzilopochtli was in the fifteenth. there were eighteen months in the aztec year, and the year began on the nd of february. the return of the gods was, therefore, in september, and the paste sacrifice of huitzilopochtli in december. clearly the god who dies in the winter solstice cannot be thought to "return" late in september. huitzilopochtli had another feast on the first day of the ninth month, that is, between june and july, when much use was made of floral decorations, and "they offered him the first flowers of the year," although flowers were used two months earlier, in the seventh month and in the fourth month.*** * _primitive culture_, ii. ; clavigero, _messico_, ii. , . ** sahagun, ii. , and appendix, iii. , . *** ibid. i. ii . but the mexican calendar is hard to deal with. müller places the feasts of huitzilopochtli in the middle of may, the middle of august, and the middle of december.* he combines his facts with a legend which made huitzilopochtli to be the son of the goddess of vegetation. j. g. müller's whole argument is learned and acute, but errs probably in attempting to extract a consecutive symbolical sense out of the chaos of myth. thus he writes: "when the myth makes the god the son of the mother of plants, it divides his essence from that of his mother, and thus huitzilopochtli, however closely akin to the plant world, is not the plant world itself ". this is to consider more curiously than the myth-makers. the name of the patron goddess of the flower-wearers in feasts was coatlicue or coatlan, which is also the name of the mother of huitzilopochtli; its meaning is "serpent petticoated".** * uramerik. rel. v. p. . ** sahagun, ii. when müller goes on to identify huitzilopochtli with the bunch of feathers that fell into his mother's breast before his birth, and that again with the humming-bird, and that again with the honey-sucking bird as the "means of fructifying the plants," and, finally, with the _männliche befrwchtende naturkraft_, we have left myth far behind, and are in a region of symbolism and abstract thought, where one conjecture is as good as another. the hypothesis is that men, feeling a sense of religious reverence for the germinal force in nature, took the humming-bird for its emblem, and so evolved the myth of the birth of huitzilopochtli, who at once fructifies and is born from the bosom of vernal nature. it would be rash and wrong to deny that such ideas are mixed in the medley of myth. but, as a rule, the sacred animal (as the humming-bird) is sacred first in itself, probably as a totem or as a guide and protector, and the symbolical sense is a forced interpretation put later on the facts.* we can hardly go farther, with safety, than the recognition of mingled aspects and elements in huitzilopochtli as the totem, the tribal god, the departmental war-god, and possibly he is the god of the year's progress and renewal. his legend and ritual are a conglomerate of all these things, a mass of ideas from many stages of culture. an abstract comparatively brief must suffice for the other aztec deities. tezcatlipoca is a god with considerable pretensions to an abstract and lofty divinity. his appearance was not prepossessing; his image, as bernal has described it, wore the head of a bear, and was covered with tiny mirrors.** various attributes, especially the mirror and a golden ear, showed him forth as the beholder of the conduct of men and the hearer of prayer. he was said, while he lived on earth, to have been a kind of ares in the least amiable aspect of the god, a maker of wars and discord.*** wealth and power were in his gift. he was credited with ability to destroy the world when he chose. seats were consecrated to him in the streets and the public places; on these might no man sit down. * compare maspero on "egyptian beast-gods," rev. de l'hist. des rel., vol. i. and chapter postea, on "egyptian divine myths". **the name means "shining mirror". acosta makes him the god of famine and pestilence (p. ). *** sahagun, i. . he was one of the two gods whose extraordinary birth, and death by "happy despatch," that their vitality might animate the motionless sun, have already been described.* tezcatlipoca, like most of the other gods, revived, and came back from the sky to earth. at a place called tulla he encountered another god or medicine-man, quetzalcoatl, and their legends become inextricably entangled in tales of trickery, animal metamorphosis, and perhaps in vague memories of tribal migrations. throughout tezcatlipoca brought grief on the people called toltecs, of whom quetzalcoatl was the divine culture-hero.** his statues, if we may believe acosta, did him little credit. "in cholula, which is a commonwealth of mexico, they worship a famous idol, which was the god of merchandise.... it had the forme of a man, but the visage of a little bird with a red bill and above a combe full of wartes."*** * _antea_, "myths of the origins of things ". ** sahagnn, iii. , . *** acosta, _nalurall and morall historic of the east and west indies_, london, . a ready way of getting a view of the mexican pantheon is to study sahagun's two books on the feasts of the gods, with their ritual. it will become manifest that the worship was a worship, on the whole, of departmental gods of the elements, of harvest, of various human activities, such as love and commerce, and war and agriculture. the nature of the worship, again, was highly practical. the ceremonies, when not mere offerings of human flesh, were commonly representations on earth of desirable things which the gods were expected to produce in the heavenly sphere. the common type of all such magical ceremonies, whereby like is expected to produce like, has been discussed in the remarks on magic (chapter iv.). the black smoke of sacrifice generates clouds; the pouring forth of water from a pitcher (as in the attic thesmophoria) induces the gods to pour forth rain. thus in mexico the rain-god (tlaloc, god of waters) was propitiated with sacrifices of children. "if the children wept and shed abundant tears, they who carried them rejoiced, being convinced that rain would also be abundant."* the god of the maize, again (cinteotl, son of the maize-goddess), had rites resembling those of the greek pyanepsion and eiresione. the aztecs used to make an image of the god, and offer it all manner of maize and beans.** curiously enough, the greeks also regarded their pyanepsion as a bean-feast. a more remarkable analogy is that of the peruvian mama cora, the figure of a goddess made of maize, which was asked "if it hath strength sufficient to continue until the next year," and of which the purpose was, "that the seed of the maize may not perish".*** this corn image of the corn goddess, preserved through all the year and replaced in the next year by a fresh image, is the attic (--------), a branch of olive hung with a loaf and with all the fruits of the season, and set up to stand for all the year in front of each house. "and it remains for a year, and when it is dry and withered next year they make a fresh one."**** * sahagun. ii. , . ** ibid., ii. , . *** acosta, hist nat., , p. . **** see schol. in aristoph. plut., , and other texts, quoted by mannhardt, _arntike waldund feld cultus_, ii. , note . children were sacrificed in mexico to this deity. in the rites of a goddess of harvest, as has been said, torches were borne by the dancers, as in the eleusinia; and in european and oriental folk-lore. demeter was the greek harvest goddess, in whose rites torches had a place. one of her names is demeter erinnys. mr. max müller recognises erinnys as the dawn. schwartz connects demeter erinnys with the thunderstorm. the torch in the hand of demeter is the lightning, according to schwartz. it is interesting, whether the torch be the torch of dawn, or of storm, or neither, to see the prevalence of these torch festivals in rural rites in mexico, greece and modern europe. the idea of the peasants is that the lights scare away evil spirits.** in the mexican rite, a woman, representing the goddess and dressed in her ornaments, was sacrificed. the same horrid ceremony accompanied the feast of the mother of the gods, teteo innan.*** in this rite the man who represented the son of the goddess wore a mask of the skin from the thigh of the female victim who had personated the goddess herself. the wearing of the skin established a kinship between the man and the woman, as in the many classical, ancient and savage rituals where the celebrants wear the hides of the sacrificed beasts. there was a god of storm called "cloudy serpent," mixcoatl, whose rites were not more humane. the mexican aphrodite was named _tlaçolteotl_,**** "the impure". * mannhardt, op. cit., ii. , i. , ; schwartz, _prähistorisch anthropologische studien_, p. . ** compare the french _jour des brandons_. ***see sahagun, ii. . **** ibid., i. . about her character the aztecs had no illusions. she listened to the confessions of the most loathsome sinners, whom she perhaps first tempted to err, and then forgave and absolved. confession was usually put off till people had ceased to be likely to sin. she is said to have been the wife of tlaloc, carried off by tezcatlipoca. "she must have been the aquatic vegetation of marshy lands," says m. roville, "possessed by the god of waters till the sun dries her up and she disappears." this is an amusing example of modern ingenuity. it resembles m. reville's assertion that tlaloc, the rain-god, "had but one eye, which shows that he must be ultimately identified as an ancient personification of the rainy sky, whose one eye is the sun". a rainy sky has usually no "eye" at all, and, when it has, in this respect it does not differ from a cloudless sky. a less lovely set of olympians than the aztec gods it is difficult to conceive. yet, making every allowance for catholic after-thoughts, there can be no doubt that the prayers, penances and confessions described at length by sahagun indicate a firm mexican belief that even these strange deities "made for righteousness," loved good, and, in this world and the next, punished evil. however it happened, whatever accidents of history or of mixture of the races in the dim past caused it, the aztecs carried to extremes the religious and the mythical ideas. they were exceedingly pious in their attitude of penitence and prayer; they were more fierce and cruel in ritual, more fantastic in myth, than the wildest of tribes, tameless and homeless, ignorant of agriculture or of any settled and assured existence. even the inquisition of the spanishof the sixteenth century was an improvement on the unheard-of abominations of mexican ritual. as in all fully developed polytheisms of civilised races among the aztecs we lose sight of the moral primal being of low savage races. he is obscured by deities of a kind not yet evolved in the lowest culture. chapter xvi. the mythology of egypt antiquity of egypt--guesses at origin of the people-- chronological views of the religion--permanence and changes-- local and syncretic worship--elements of pure belief and of totemism--authorities for facts--monuments and greek reports--contending theories of modern authors--study of the gods, their beasts, their alliances and mutations--evidence of ritual--a study of the osiris myth and of the development of osiris-savage and theological elements in the myth--moral aspect of the religion--conclusion. even to the ancients egypt was antiquity, and the greeks sought in the dateless mysteries of the egyptian religion for the fountain of all that was most mysterious in their own. curiosity about the obscure beginnings of human creeds and the first knowledge of the gods was naturally aroused by that spectacle of the pantheon of egypt. her highest gods were abstractions, swathed, like the involuti of the etrurians, in veils of mystic doctrine; yet in the most secret recess of her temples the pious beheld "a crocodile, a cat, or a serpent, a beast rolling on a purple couch".* * clem. alex., _pædagog_., iii. ( ). in egypt, the earlier ages and the later times beheld a land dominated by the thought of death, whose shadow falls on the monarch on his crowning day, whose whisper bids him send to far-off shores for the granite and the alabaster of the tomb. as life was ruled by the idea of death; so was fact conquered by dream, and all realities hastened to lose themselves in symbols; all gods rushed to merge their identity in the sun, as moths fly towards the flame of a candle. this spectacle of a race obedient to the dead and bowing down before the beasts, this procession of gods that were their own fathers and members together in ra, wakened the interest of the greeks, who were even more excited by the mystery of extreme age that hid the beginnings of egypt. full of their own memories and legends of tribal movements, of migrations, of invasions, the greeks acknowledged themselves children of yesterday in face of a secular empire with an origin so remote that it was scarcely guessed at in the conjectures of fable. egypt presented to them, as to us, the spectacle of antique civilisation without a known beginning. the spade of to-day reveals no more than the traditions of two thousand years ago. the most ancient relics of the earliest dynasty are the massive works of an organised society and an accomplished art. there is an unbridged interval between the builders of the mysterious temple hard by the sphinx and their predecessors, the chippers of palaeolithic flint axes in the river drift. we know not whence the egyptians came; we only trifle with hypotheses when we conjecture that her people are of an asiatic or an african stock; we know not whether her gods arose in the fertile swamps by nile-side, or whether they were borne in arks, like the huitzilopochtli of mexico, from more ancient seats by the piety of their worshippers. yet as one great river of mysterious source flows throughout all egypt, so through the brakes and jungles of her religion flows one great myth from a distant fountain-head, the myth of osiris.* * as to the origin of the egyptians, the prevalent belief among the ancients was that they had descended the nile from the interior of africa. cf. diodorus siculus, iii. . modern theorists occasionally lean in this direction. dumichen, _geschichte des alien Ægyptiens_, i. . again, an attempt has been made to represent them as successful members of a race whereof the bushmen of south africa are the social failures. m. maspero conceives, once more, that the egyptians were "proto-semitic," ethnologically related to the people of eastern asia, and the grammar of their language has semitic affinities. but the connection, if it ever existed, is acknowledged to be extremely remote. maspero, _hist, de l'orient_, th edit., p. . de rouge writes, "tout nous ramène vers la parenté primitive de mitsraim (egyptains) et de canaan" (_recherches sur les muniments_, p. ). the questions which we have to ask in dealing with the mythology of egypt come under two heads: first, what was the nature of egyptian religion and myth? secondly, how did that complex mass of beliefs and practices come into existence? the question, _what was the religion of egypt?_ is far from simple. in a complete treatise on the topic, it would be necessary to ask in reply, at what period, in what place, and among what classes of society did the religion exist which you wish to investigate? the ancient egyptian religion had a lifetime so long that it almost requires to be meted by the vague measures of geological time. it is historically known to us, by the earliest monuments, about the date at which archbishop usher fixed the creation. even then, be it noticed, the religion of egypt was old and full-grown; there are no historical traces of its beginnings. like the material civilisation, it had been fashioned by the unrecorded _sheshoa hor_, "the servants of horus," patriarchs dwelling with the blessed. in the four or five thousand years of its later existence, egyptian religion endured various modifications.* it was a conservative people, and schooled by the wisdom of the sepulchre. but invaders, semitic, ethiopian and greek, brought in some of their own ideas. priestly colleges developed novel dogmas, and insensibly altered ritual the thought of hundreds of generations of men brooded, not fruitlessly, over the problems of the divine nature. finally, it is likely that in egypt, as elsewhere, the superstitions of the least educated and most backward classes, and of subject peoples on a lower level of civilisation, would again and again break up, and win their way to the surface of religion. thus a complete study of egyptian faiths would be chronological--would note the setting and rising of the stars of elder and later deities. * professor lieblein, maintaining this view, opposes the statement of mr. le page renouf, who writes: "the earliest monuments which have been discovered present to us the very same fully developed civilisation and the same religion as the later monuments" (_hib. lectures_, , p. ). but it is superfluous to attack a position which mr. le page renouf does not appear really to hold. he admits the existence of development and evolution in egyptian religious thought "i believe, therefore, that, after closely approaching the point at which polytheism might have turned into monotheism, the religious thought of egypt turned aside into a wrong track" (op. cit, p. ). the method of a systematic history of egyptian religion would not be regulated by chronology alone. topographical and social conditions would also claim attention. the favoured god or gods of one nome (administrative district), or of one town, or of one sacred metropolis, were not the gods of another metropolis, or town, or nome, though some deities were common to the whole country. the fundamental character might be much the same in each case, but the titles, and aspects, and ritual, and accounts of the divine genealogy varied in each locality. once more, the "syncretic" tendency kept fusing into one divine name and form, or into a family triad of gods (mother, father and son), the deities of different districts, which, beneath their local peculiarities, theologians could recognise as practically the same. while political events and local circumstances were thus modifying egyptian religion, it must never be forgotten that the different classes of society were probably by no means at one in their opinions. the monuments show us what the kings believed, or at least what the kings practised, record the prayers they uttered and the sacrifices they offered. the tombs and the papyri which contain the _book of the dead_ and other kindred works reveal the nature of belief in a future life, with the changes which it underwent at different times. but the people, the vast majority, unlettered and silent, cannot tell us what _they_ believed, or what were their favourite forms of adoration. we are left to the evidence of amulets, of books of magic, of popular tales, surviving on a papyrus here and there, and to the late testimony of greek writers--herodotus, diodorus, the author of the treatise _de osiride et hide_, and others. while the clergy of the twentieth dynasty were hymning the perfections of ammon ra--"so high that man may not attain unto him, dweller in the hidden place, him whose image no man has beheld"--the peasant may have been worshipping, like a modern zulu, the serpents in his hovel, or may have been adoring the local sacred cat of his village, or flinging stones at the local sacred crocodile of his neighbours. to the enlightened in the later empire, perhaps to the remotest unknown ancestors also, god was self-proceeding, self-made, manifest in the deities that were members together in him of godhead. but the peasant, if he thinks of the gods at all, thinks of them walking the earth, like our lord and the saints in the norse nursery tales, to amuse themselves with the adventures of men. the peasant spoke of the seven hathors, that come like fairy godmothers to the cradle of each infant, and foretell his lot in life.* * compare maspero, _hist, de l'orient_., th edit., pp. - , for the priestly hymns and the worship of beasts. "the lofty thoughts remained the property of a small number of priests and instructed people; they did not penetrate the mass of the population. far from that, the worship of animals, goose, swallow, cat, serpent, had many more followers than amnion ra could count." see also tiele, _manuel de l'hist. des rel._, paris, , pp. , . for the folk-lore of wandering gods see maspero, _contes egyptiens_, paris, , p. . it is impossible, of course, to write here a complete history of egyptian religion, as far as it is to be extracted from the books and essays of learned moderns; but it has probably been made clear that when we speak of the religion and mythology of egypt, we speak of a very large and complicated subject. plainly this is a topic which the lay student will find full of pitfalls, and on which even scholars may well arrive at contradictory opinions. to put the matter briefly, where one school finds in the gods and the holy menagerie of egyptian creeds the corruption of a primitive monotheism, its opponents see a crowd of survivals from savagery combined with clearer religious ideas, which are the long result of civilised and educated thought.* both views may be right in part. * the english leader of the former school, the believer in a primitive purity, corrupted and degraded but not extinguished, is mr. le page renouf (_hibbert lectures_, london, ). it is not always very easy to make out what side mr. le page renouf does take. for example, in his _hibbert lectures_, p. , he speaks somewhat sympathetically of the "very many eminent scholars, who, with full knowledge of all that can be said to the contrary, maintain that the egyptian religion is essentially monotheistic". he himself says that "a power without a name or any mythological characteristic is constantly referred to in the singular number, and can only be regarded as the object of that _sensus numinis_, or immediate perception of the infinite." which is "the result of an intuition as irresistible as the impressions of our senses". if this be not primitive instinctive monotheism, what is it? yet mr. le page renouf says that egyptian polytheism, after closely approaching the point where it might have become monotheism, went off on a wrong track; so the egyptians after all were polytheists, not monotheists (op. cit., p. ). of similar views are the late illustrious vicomte de rouge, m. mariette, m. pierret, and brugsch pasha (_rel. und myth, der alien egypter_, vol i., leipzig, ). on the other side, on the whole regarding egyptian creeds as a complex mass of early uncivilised and popular ideas, with a later priestly religion tending towards pantheism and monotheism, are m. maspero, professor tiele, professor lieblein (english readers may consult his pamphlet, _egyptian religion_, leipzig, ), m. edward meyer, (_geschichte des alterthums_, stuttgart, ), herr pietsch. mann (_zeitschrtftfur ethnologic_, berlin, , art. "fetisch dienst"), and professor tiele (_manuel de l'histoire des religions_, paris, , and "_history of egyptian religion, english translation_, ). after this preamble let us endeavour to form a general working idea of what egyptian religion was as a whole. what kind of religion did the israelites see during the sojourn in egypt, or what presented itself to the eyes of herodotus? unluckily we have no such eye-witnesses of the earlier egyptian as bernal diaz was of the aztec temples. the bible says little that is definite about the theological "wisdom of the egyptians". when confronted with the sacred beasts, herodotus might have used with double truth the greek saw: "a great ox has trod upon my tongue".* but what herodotus hinted at or left unsaid is gathered from the evidence of tombs and temple walls and illuminated papyri. one point is certain. whatever else the religion of egypt may at any time have been, it struck every foreign observer as polytheism.** moreover, it was a polytheism like another. the greeks had no difficulty, for example, in recognising amongst these beast-headed monsters gods analogous to their own. this is demonstrated by the fact that to almost every deity of egypt they readily and unanimously assigned a greek divine name. seizing on a certain aspect of osiris and of his mystery-play, they made him dionysus; hor became apollo; ptah, hephaestus: ammon ra, zeus; thoth, hermes, and so on with the rest. the egyptian deities were recognised as divine beings, with certain (generally ill-defined) departments of nature and of human activity under their care. some of them, like seb (earth) and nut (heaven), were esteemed elemental forces or phenomena, and were identified with the same personal phenomena or forces, uranus and gæa, in the greek system, where heaven and earth were also parents of many of the gods. * Æschylus, _agamemnon_, , (--------) ** maspero, musée de boulaq, p. ; le page renouf, hib. led., pp. , . thus it is indisputably clear that egyptian religion had a polytheistic aspect, or rather, as maspero says, was "a well-marked polytheism"; that in this regard it coincided with other polytheisms, and that this element must be explained in the egyptian, as it is explained in the greek or the aztec, or the peruvian or the maori religion.* now an explanation has already been offered in the mythologies previously examined. some gods have been recognised, like rangi and papa, the maori heaven and earth (nut and seb), as representatives of the old personal earth and heaven, which commend themselves to the barbaric fancy. other gods are the informing and indwelling spirits of other phenomena, of winds or sea or woods. others, again, whatever their origin, preside over death, over the dead, over the vital functions, such as love, or over the arts of life, such as agriculture; and these last gods of departments of human activity were probably in the beginning culture-heroes, real, or more likely ideal, the first teachers of men. * "it is certainly erroneous to consider egyptian religion as a polytheistic corruption of a prehistoric monotheism. it is more correct to say that, while polytheistic in principle, the religion developed in two absolutely opposite directions. on one side, the constant introduction of new gods, local or foreign; on the other, a groping after a monotheism never absolutely reached. the learned explained the crowd of gods as so many incarnations of the one hidden uncreated deity."--tiele, _manuel de l'histoire des religions_, p. . in polytheisms of long standing all these attributes and functions have been combined and reallotted, and the result we see in that confusion which is of the very essence of myth. each god has many birth-places, one has many sepulchres, all have conflicting genealogies. if these ideas about other polytheisms be correct, then it is probable that they explain to a great extent the first principles of the polytheism of egypt they explain at least the factors in egyptian religion, which the greeks recognised as analogous with their own, and which are found among polytheists of every degree of culture, from new zealand to hellas. if ever ptah, or any other name, represented "our father" as he is known to the most backward races, he was buried into the background by gods evolved from ghosts, by departmental gods, and by the gods of races amalgamated in the course of conquest and settlement. leaving on one side, then, for the moment, the vast system of ancestor-worship and of rites undertaken for the benefit of the dead, and leaving aside the divinity of the king, polytheism was the most remarkable feature of egyptian religion. the foreign traveller in the time of the pyramid-builders, as in the time of ramses ii., or of the ptolemies, or of the roman domination, would have found a crowd of gods in receipt of honour and of sacrifice. he would have learned that one god was most adored in one locality, another in another, that ammon ra was predominant in thebes; ra, the sun-god, in heliopolis; osiris in abydos, and so forth. he would also have observed that certain animals were sacred to certain gods, and that in places where each beast was revered, his species was not eaten, though it might blamelessly be cooked and devoured in the neighbouring nome or district, where another animal was dominant. everywhere, in all nomes and towns, the adoration of osiris, chiefly as the god and redeemer of the dead, was practised.* * on the different religions of different nomes, and especially the animal worship, see pietschmann, _der Ægyptische fetischdienst und götterglaube, zeitschrtft für ethnologie_, , p. . while these are the general characteristics of egyptian religion, there were inevitably many modifications in the course of five thousand years. if one might imagine a traveller endowed, like the wandering jew, with endless life, and visiting egypt every thousand, or every five hundred years, we can fancy some of the changes in religion which he would observe. on the whole, from the first dynasty and the earliest monuments to the time when hor came to wear a dress like that of a roman centurion, the traveller would find the chief figures of the pantheon recognisably the same. but there would be novelties in the manner of worshipping and of naming or representing them. "in the oldest tombs, where the oldest writings are found, there are not many gods mentioned--there are osiris, horus, thot, seb, nut, hathor, anubis, apheru, and a couple more."* here was a stock of gods who remained in credit till "the dog anubis" fled from the star of bethlehem. most of these deities bore birth-marks of the sky and of the tomb. if osiris was "the sun-god of abydos," he was also the murdered and mutilated culture-hero. if hor or horus was the sun at his height, he too had suffered despiteful usage from his enemies. seb and nut (named on the coffin of mycerinus of the fourth dynasty in the british museum) were our old friends the personal heaven and earth. anubis, the jackal, was "the lord of the grave," and dead kings are worshipped no less than gods who were thought to have been dead kings. while certain gods, who retained permanent power, appear in the oldest monuments, sacred animals are also present from the first. * lieblein, _egyptian religion_, p. . the gods, in fact, of the earliest monuments were beasts. here is one of the points in which a great alteration developed itself in the midst of egyptian religion. till the twelfth dynasty, when a god is mentioned (and in those very ancient remains gods are not mentioned often), "he is represented by his animal, or with the name spelled out in hieroglyphs, often beside the bird or beast".* "the jackal stands for anup (anubis), the frog for hekt, the baboon for tahuti (thoth). it is not till after semitic influence had begun to work in the country that any figures of gods are found." by "figures of gods" are meant the later man-shaped or semi-man-shaped images, the hawk-headed, jackal-headed, and similar representations with which we are familiar in the museums. the change begins with the twelfth dynasty, but becomes most marked under the eighteenth. "during the ancient empire," says m. maspero, "i only find monuments at four points--at memphis, at abydos, in some parts of middle egypt, at sinai, and in the valley of hammamat. the divine names appear but occasionally, in certain unvaried formulæ. under the eleventh and twelfth dynasties lower egypt comes on the scene. the formulæ are more explicit, but the religious monuments rare. from the eighteenth dynasty onwards, we have _representations_ of all the deities, accompanied by legends more or less developed, and we begin to discover books of ritual, hymns, amulets, and other objects."** there are also sacred texts in the pyramids. * flinders petrie, _arts of ancient egypt_, p. . ** _revue de l'histoire des religions_, i. . other changes, less important than that which turned the beast-god into a divine man or woman, often beast-headed, are traced in the very earliest ages. the ritual of the holy bulls (hapi, apis) makes its official appearance under the fourth king of the first, and the first king of the second dynasties.* mr. le page renouf, admitting this, thinks the great development of bull-worship later.** in the third dynasty the name of ra, sun, comes to be added to the royal names of kings, as nebkara, noferkara, and so forth.*** osiris becomes more important than the jackal-god as the guardian of the dead. sokar, another god of death, shows a tendency to merge himself in osiris. with the successes of the eighteenth dynasty in thebes, the process of _syncretism_, by which various god-names and god-natures are mingled, so as to unite the creeds of different nomes and provinces, and blend all in the worship of the theban ammon ra, is most notable. now arise schools of theology; pantheism and an approach to monotheism in the theban god become probable results of religious speculations and imperial success. these tendencies are baffled by the break-up of the theban supremacy, but the monotheistic idea remains in the esoteric dogmas of priesthoods, and survives into neo-platonism. special changes are introduced--now, as in the case of worship of the solar disk by a heretic king; earlier, as in the prevalence of set-worship, perhaps by semitic invaders.**** * brugsch, _history of egypt_, english transl., i. , . ** hib. lect., pp. , . *** op. cit. i. p. . **** for khunaten, and his heresy of the disk in thebes, see brugsch, op. cit., i. . it had little or no effect on myth. tiele says (_hist. egypt. rel._, p. ), "from the most remote antiquity set is one of the osirian circle, and is thus a genuine egyptian deity". it is impossible here to do more than indicate the kind of modification which egyptian religion underwent. throughout it remained constant in certain features, namely, the _local_ character of its gods, their usefulness to the dead (their _chthonian_ aspect), their tendency to be merged into the sun, ra, the great type and symbol and source of life, and, finally, their inability to shake off the fur and feathers of the beasts, the earliest form of their own development. thus life, death, sky, sun, bird, beast and man are all blended in the religious conceptions of egypt. here follow two hymns to osiris, hymns of the nineteenth and twentieth dynasties, which illustrate the confusion of lofty and almost savage ideas, the coexistence of notions from every stage of thought, that make the puzzle of egyptian mythology. "hail to thee, osiris, eldest son of seb, greatest of the six deities born of nut, chief favourite of thy father, ra, the father of fathers; king of time, master of eternity; one in his manifestations, terrible. when he left the womb of his mother he united all the crowns, he fixed the urseus (emblem of sovereignty) on his head. god of many shapes, god of the unknown name, thou who hast many names in many provinces; if ra rises in the heavens, it is by the will of osiris; if he sets, it is at the sight of his glory."* in another hymn** osiris is thus addressed: "king of eternity, great god, risen from the waters that were in the beginning, strong hawk, king of gods, master of souls, king of terrors, lord of crowns, thou that art great in hnes, that dost appear at mendes in the likeness of a ram, monarch of the circle of gods, king of amenti (hades), revered of gods and men, who so knoweth humility and reckoneth deeds of righteousness, thereby knows he osiris."*** * from abydos, nineteenth dynasty. maspero, _musee de boulaq_, pp. , . ** twentieth dynasty. _op. cit._, p. . *** "this phase of religious thought," says mr. page renouf, speaking of what he calls _monotheism_, "is chiefly presented to us in a large number of hymns, beginning with the earliest days of the eighteenth dynasty. it is certainly much more ancient, but.... none of the hymns of that time have come down to us." see a very remarkable pantheistic hymn to osiris, "lord of holy transformations," in a passage cited, _hib. lect_., p. , and the hymns to amnion ra, "closely approaching the language of monotheism," pp. , . excellent examples of pantheistic litanies of ra are translated from originals of the nineteenth dynasty, in _records of the past_, viii. - . the royal osiris is identified with ra. here, too, it is told how ra smote apap, the serpent of evil, the egyptian ahi. here the noblest moral sentiments are blended with oriental salutations in the worship of a god who, for the moment, is recognised as lord of lords, but who is also a ram at mendes. this apparent confusion of ideas, and this assertion of supremacy for a god who, in the next hymn, is subjected to another god, mark civilised polytheism; but the confusion was increased by the extreme age of the egyptian faith, and by the doubt that prevailed as to the meaning of tradition. "the seventeenth chapter of the _book of the dead_" which seems to contain a statement of the system of the universe as understood at heliopolis under the first dynasties, "is known to us by several examples of the eleventh and twelfth dynasties." _each of the verses had already been interpreted in three or four different ways_; so different, that, according to one school, the creator, _râ-show_, was the solar fire; according to another school, not the fire, but the waters! the _book of the dead_, in fact, is no book, but collections of pamphlets, so to speak, of very different dates. "plan or unity cannot be expected," and glosses only some four thousand years old have become imbedded in really ancient texts.* fifteen centuries later the number of interpretations had considerably increased.** where the egyptians themselves were in helpless doubt, it would be vain to offer complete explanations of their opinions and practices in detail; but it is possible, perhaps, to account for certain large elements of their beliefs, and even to untie some of the knots of the osirian myth. the strangest feature in the rites of egypt was animal-worship, which appeared in various phases. there was the local adoration of a beast, a bird, or fish, to which the neighbours of other districts were indifferent or hostile. there was the presence of the animal in the most sacred _penetralia_ of the temple; and there was the god conceived of, on the whole, as anthropomorphic, but often represented in art, after the twelfth dynasty, as a man or woman with the head of a bird or beast.*** * cf. tiele, _hist egypt_. rel., pp. - , and notes. ** maspero, _musee de boulaq_, p. . *** as to the animals which were sacred and might not be eaten in various nomes, an account will be found in wilkinson's _ancient egyptians_, ii. . the english reader will find many beast-headed gods in the illustrations to vol. iii. the edition referred to is birch's, london, . a more scientific authority is lanzoni, _dizion. mit_. these points in egyptian religion have been the great puzzle both of antiquity and of modern mythology. the common priestly explanations varied. sometimes it was said that the gods had concealed themselves in the guise of beasts during the revolutionary wars of set against horus.* often, again, animal-worship was interpreted as symbolical; it was not the beast, but the qualities which he personified that were adored.** thus anubis, really a jackal, is a dog, in the explanations of plutarch, and is said to be worshipped for his fidelity, or because he can see in the night, or because he is the image of time. "as he brought forth all things out of himself, and contains all things within himself, he gets the title of dog."*** once more, and by a nearer approach to what is probably the truth, the beast-gods were said to be survivals of the badges (representing animals) of various tribal companies in the forces of osiris. such were the ideas current in graeco-roman speculation, nor perhaps is there any earlier evidence as to the character of native interpretation of animal-worship. the opinion has also been broached that beast-worship in egypt is a refraction from the use of hieroglyphs. if the picture of a beast was one of the signs in the writing of a god's name, adoration might be transferred to the beast from the god. it is by no means improbable that this process had its share in producing the results.**** some of the explanations of animal-worship which were popular of old are still in some favour. * de is. et os., lxxii. ** op. cit., xi. *** ibid., xliv. **** pietschmann, op. cit., p. , contends that the animal-worship is older than these egyptian modes of writing the divine names, say of amnion ra or hathor. moreover, the signs were used in writing the names because the gods were conceived of in these animal shapes. mr. le page renouf appears to hold that there was something respectably mythical in the worship of the inhabitants of zoological and botanical gardens, something holy apparent at least to the devout.* he quotes the opinion attributed to apollonius of tyana, that the beasts were symbols of deity, not deities, and this was the view of "a grave opponent". mr. le page renouf also mentions porphyry's theory, that "under the semblance of animals the egyptians worship the universal power which the gods have revealed in the various forms of living nature".** it is evident, of course, that all of these theories may have been held by the learned in egypt, especially after the christian era, in the times of apollonius and porphyry; but that throws little light on the motives and beliefs of the pyramid-builders many thousands of years before, or of the contemporary peasants with their worship of cats and alligators. in short, the systems of symbolism were probably made after the facts, to account for practices whose origin was obscure. yet another hypothesis is offered by mr. le page renouf, and in the case of set and the hippopotamus is shared by m. maspero. tiele also remarks that some beasts were promoted to godhead comparatively late, because their names resembled names of gods.*** * _hibbert lectures_, pp. , . ** _de abst_., iv. c. . *** _theolog. tidjsch_., th year, p. . the gods, in certain cases, received their animal characteristics by virtue of certain unconscious puns or mistakes in the double senses of words. seb is the earth. seb is also the egyptian name for a certain species of goose, and, in accordance with the _homonymous_ tendency of the mythological period of all nations, the god and the bird were identified.* seb was called "the great cackler".** again, the god thoth was usually represented with the head of an ibis. a mummied ibis "in the human form is made to represent the god thoth".*** this connection between thoth and the ibis mr. le page renouf explains at some length as the result of an etymological confusion.**** thus metaphorical language reacted upon thought, and, as in other religions, obtained the mastery. while these are the views of a distinguished modern egyptologist, another egyptologist, not less distinguished, is of an entirely opposite opinion as to the question on the whole. "it is possible, nay, certain," writes m. maspero, "that during the second theban empire the learned priests may have thought it well to attribute a symbolical sense to certain bestial deities. but whatever they may have worshipped in thoth-ibis, it was a bird, and not a hieroglyph, that the first worshippers of the ibis adored."***** m. meyer is of the same opinion, and so are professor tiele and m. perrot.****** * for a statement of the theory of "homonymous tendency," see selected essays, max müller, i. , . for a criticism of the system, see mythology in encyclop, brit., or in la mythologie, a. lang, paris, . ** hibbert lectures, , p. . *** wilkinson, iii. . **** op. cit., pp. , , . ***** revue de v histoire des religions, vol. i. ****** meyer, oeschichte des alterthums, p. ; tiele, manuel, p. ; perrot and chipiez, egyptian art, english transl., i. . hist. egypt. rel., pp. , . tiele finds the origin of this animal-worship in "animism," and supposes that the original colonists or conquerors from asia found it prevalent in and adopted it from an african population. professor tiele does not appear, when he wrote this chapter, to have observed the world-wide diffusion of animal-worship in totem ism, for he says, "nowhere else does the worship of animals prevail so extensively as among african peoples". while the learned have advanced at various periods these conflicting theories of the origin of egyptian animal-worship, a novel view was introduced by mr. m'lennan. in his essays on _plant and animal worship_, he regarded egyptian animal-worship as only a consecrated and elaborate survival of totemism. mr. le page renouf has ridiculed the "school-boy authorities on which mr. m'lennan relied".* nevertheless, mr. m'lennan's views are akin to those to which m. maspero and mm. perrot and chipiez are attached, and they have also the support of professor sayce. "these animal forms, in which a later myth saw the shapes assumed by the affrighted gods during the great war between horus and typhon, take us back to a remote prehistoric age, when the religious creed of egypt was still totemism. they are survivals from a long-forgotten past, and prove that egyptian civilisation was of slow and independent growth, the latest stage only of which is revealed to us by the monuments. apis of memphis, mnevis of heliopolis, and pachis of hermonthis are all links that bind together the egypt of the pharaohs and the egypt of the stone age. these were the sacred animals of the clans which first settled in these localities, and their identification with the deities of the official religion must have been a slow process, never fully carried out, in fact, in the minds of the lower classes."** * hibbert lectures, pp. , . ** herodotus, p. . thus it appears that, after all, even on philological showing, the religions and myths of a civilised people may be illustrated by the religions and myths of savages. it is in the study of savage totemism that we too seek a partial explanation of the singular egyptian practices that puzzled the greeks and romans, and the egyptians themselves. to some extent the egyptian religious facts were purely totemistic in the strict sense. some examples of the local practices and rites which justify this opinion may be offered. it has been shown that the totem of each totem-kindred among the lower races is sacred, and that there is a strict rule against eating, or even making other uses of, the sacred animal or plant.* at the same time, one totem-kindred has no scruple about slaying or eating the totem of any other kindred. now similar rules prevailed in egypt, and it is not easy for the school which regards the holy beasts as _emblems_, or as the results of misunderstood language, to explain why an emblem was adored in one village and persecuted and eaten in the next. but if these usages be survivals of totemism, the practice at once ceases to be isolated, and becomes part of a familiar, if somewhat obscure, body of customs found all over the world. "the same animal which was revered and forbidden to be slaughtered for the altar or the table in one part of the country was sacrificed and eaten in another."** * this must be taken generally. see spencer and gillen in the _natives of central australia_, where each kin helps the others to kill its own totem. ** wilkinson, _ancient egyptians_, ii. . herodotus bears testimony to this habit in an important passage. he remarks that the people of the theban nome whose god, ammon ra, or khnum, was ram-headed, abstain from sheep and sacrifice goats; but the people of mendes, whose god was goat-headed, abstain from goats, sacrifice sheep, and hold all goats in reverence.* these local rites, at least in roman times, caused civil brawls, for the customs of one town naturally seemed blasphemous to neighbours with a different sacred animal. thus when the people of dog-town were feasting on the fish called oxyrrhyncus, the citizens of the town which revered the oxyrrhyncus began to eat dogs, to which there is no temptation. hence arose a riot.** * herodotus, ii. - . the goat-headed mendesian god pan, as herodotus calls him, is recognised by dr. birch as the goat-headed ba-en-tattu. wilkinson, ii. , note . ** de is. et os., , . the most singular detail in juvenal's famous account of the war between the towns of ombi and tentyra does not appear to be a mere invention. they fought "because each place loathes the gods of its neighbours". the turmoil began at a sacred feast, and the victors devoured one of the vanquished. now if the religion were really totemistic, the worshippers would be of the same blood as the animal they worshipped, and in eating an adorer of the crocodile, his enemies would be avenging the eating of their own sacred beast. when that beast was a crocodile, probably nothing but starvation or religious zeal could induce people to taste his unpalatable flesh. yet "in the city apollinopolis it is the custom that every one must by all means eat a bit of crocodile; and on one day they catch and kill as many crocodiles as they can, and lay them out in front of the temple ". the mythic reason was that typhon, in his flight from horus, took the shape of a crocodile. yet he was adored at various places where it was dangerous to bathe on account of the numbers and audacity of the creatures. mummies of crocodiles are found in various towns where the animal was revered.* it were tedious to draw up a list of the local sacred beasts of egypt;** but it seems manifest that the explanation of their worship as totems at once colligates it with a familiar set of phenomena. the symbolic explanations, on the other hand, are clearly fanciful, mere _jeux d'esprit_. for example, the sacred shrew-mouse was locally adored, was carried to butis on its death, and its mummy buried with care, but the explanation that it "received divine honours because it is blind, and darkness is more ancient than light," by no means accounts for the mainly _local_ respect paid to the little beast.*** * wilkinson, iii. . compare aelian, x. , on the enmity between worshippers of crocodiles and hawks (and strabo, xvii. ). the hawk-worshippers averred that the hawk was a symbol of fire; the crocodile people said that their beast was an emblem of water; but why one city should be so attached to water-worship and its neighbour to tire-worship does not appear. ** a good deal of information will be found in wilkinson's third volume, but must be accepted with caution. *** wilkinson, iii. ; plutarch, sympos., iv. quaest. ; herodot, ii. . if this explanation of the _local_ worship of sacred beasts be admitted as plausible, the beast-headed gods, or many of them, may be accounted for in the same way. it is always in a town where a certain animal is locally revered that the human-shaped god wearing the head of the same animal finds the centre and chief holy place of his worship. the cat is great in bubastis, and there is bast, and also the cat-headed sekhet* of memphis. the sheep was great in thebes, and there was the sacred city of the ram-headed khnum or ammon ra.** if the crocodile was held in supreme regard at ombos, there, too, was the sacred town of the crocodile-headed god, sebak. * wilkinson, iii. . but the cat, though bubastis was her centre and metropolis, was sacred all over the land. nor was puss only in this proud position. some animals were _universally_ worshipped. ** the inconsistencies of statement about this ram-headed deity in wilkinson are most confusing. ammon is an adjective = "hidden," and is connected with the ram-headed khnum, and with the hawk-headed ra, the sun. while greek writers like porphyry and plutarch and jamblichus repeat the various and inconsistent egyptian allegorical accounts of the origin of those beast-headed gods, the facts of their worship and chosen residence show that the gods are only semi-anthropomorphic refinements or successors of the animals. it has been said that these representations are later in time, and it is probable that they are later in evolution, than the representations of the deities as mere animals. nor, perhaps, is it impossible to conjecture how the change in art was made. it is a common ritual custom for the sacrificer to cover himself with the skin and head of the animal sacrificed. in mexico we know that the aztec priests wore the flayed skins of their human victims. herodotus mentions that on the one awful day when a sheep was yearly sacrificed in thebes, the statue of zeus, as he calls him, was draped in the hide of the beast. in the same way certain californian tribes which worship the buzzard sacrifice him, "himself to himself," once a year, and use his skin as a covering in the ritual.* lucian gives an instance in his treatise _de deâ syriâ_ ( ): "when a man means to go on pilgrimage to hierapolis, he sacrifices a sheep and eats of its flesh. he then kneels down and draws the head over his own head, praying at the same time to the god." chaldean works of art often represent the priest in the skin of the god, sometimes in that of a fish.** it is a conjecture not unworthy of consideration that the human gods with bestial heads are derived from the aspect of the celebrant clad in the pelt of the beast whom he sacrifices. in egyptian art the heads of the gods are usually like masks, or flayed skins superimposed on the head of a man.*** if it be asked _why_ the celebrant thus disguises himself in the sacrifice, it is only possible to reply by guess-work. but the hypothesis may be hazarded that this rite was one of the many ways in which the sacred animal has been propitiated in his death by many peoples. it is a kind of legal fiction to persuade him that, like the bear in the finnish kalewala and in the red indian and australian legend, "he does not die". his skin is still capering about on other shoulders.**** * [robinson, _life in california_, pp. , ;] herodotus, ii. . ** menant, _recherehes_, ii. . see a collection of cases in our _cupid and psyche_, pp. lviii., lix. *** the idea is professor robertson smith's. **** for examples of propitiation of slain animals by this and other arts, see _prim. cult_, i. , . when the koriaks slay a bear or wolf, they dress one of their people in his skin, and dance round him, chanting excuses. we must not forget, while offering this hypothesis of the origin of beast-headed gods, that representations of this kind in art may only be a fanciful kind of shorthand. everyone knows the beasts which, in christian art, accompany the four evangelists. these do not, of course, signify that st. john was of the eagle totem kin, and st. mark of the stock of the lion. they are the beasts of ezekiel and the apocalypse, regarded as types of the four gospel writers. moreover, in mediaeval art, the evangelists are occasionally represented with the heads of their beasts--john with an eagle's head, mark with a lion's, luke with that of an ox. see _bulletin, com. hist. archeol_., iv. . for this note i am indebted to m. h. gaidoz. while egyptian myth, religion and ritual is thus connected with the beliefs of the lower races, the animal-worship presents yet another point of contact. not only were beasts locally adored, but gods were thought of and represented in the shape of various different beasts. how did the evolution work its way? what is the connection between a lofty spiritual conception, as of ammon ra, the lord of righteousness, and osiris, judge of the dead, and bulls, rams, wolves, cranes, hawks, and so forth? osiris especially had quite a collection of bestial heads, and appeared in divers bestial forms.* the bull hapi "was a fair and beautiful image of the soul of osiris," in late ritual.** we have read a hymn in which he is saluted as a ram. he also "taketh the character of the god bennu, with the head of a crane," and as sokar osiris has the head of a hawk.*** these phenomena could not but occur, in the long course of time, when political expediency, in egypt, urged the recognition of the identity of various local deities. in the same way "ammon ra, like most of the gods, frequently took the character of other deities, as khem, ra and chnumis, and even the attributes of osiris ".**** * cf. wilkinson, iii. , . ** de is. et os., . ***wilkinson, iii. . ****op. cit., iii, . there was a constant come and go of attributes, and gods adopted each other's symbols, as kings and emperors wear the uniform of regiments in each other's service. moreover, it is probable that the process so amply illustrated in samoan religion had its course in egypt, and that different holy animals might be recognised as aspects of the same deity. finally, the intricate connection of gods and beasts is no singular or isolated phenomenon. from australia upwards, a god, perhaps originally, conceived of as human and moral in character, is also recognised in a totem, as pund-jel in the eagle-hawk. thus the confusion of egyptian religion is what was inevitable in a land where new and old did not succeed and supersede each other, but coexisted on good terms. had religion not been thus confused, it would have been a solitary exception among the institutions of the country. the peculiarity of egypt, in religion and myth as in every other institution, is the retention of the very rudest and most barbarous things side by side with the last refinements of civilisation (tiele, manuel, p. ). the existence of this conservatism (by which we profess to explain the egyptian myths and worship) is illustrated, in another field, by the arts of everyday life, and by the testimony of the sepulchres of thebes. m. passalacqua, in some excavations at quoarnah (gurna), struck on the common cemetery of the ancient city of thebes. here he found "the mummy of a hunter, with a wooden bow and twelve arrows, the shaft made of reed, the points of hardened wood tipped with edged flints. hard by lay jewels belonging to the mummy of a young woman, pins with ornamental heads, necklaces of gold and lapis-lazuli, gold earrings, scarabs of gold, bracelets of gold," and so forth (chabas, _etudes sur l'antiquity historique_, p. ). the refined art of the gold-worker was contemporary, and this at a late period, with the use of flint-headed arrows, the weapons commonly found all over the world in places where the metals had never penetrated. again, a razor-shaped knife of flint has been unearthed; it is inscribed in hieroglyphics with the words, "the great sam, son of ptah, chief of artists ". the "sams" were members of the priestly class, who fulfilled certain mystic duties at funerals. it is reported by herodotus that the embalmers opened the bodies of the dead with a knife of stone; and the discovery of such a knife, though it had not belonged to an embalmer, proves that in egypt the stone age did not disappear, but coexisted throughout with the arts of metal-working. it is alleged that flint chisels and stone hammers were used by the workers of the mines in sinai, even under dynasties xii., xix. the soil of egypt, when excavated, constantly shows that the egyptians, who in the remote age of the pyramid-builders were already acquainted with bronze, and even with iron, did not therefore relinquish the use of flint knives and arrow-heads when such implements became cheaper than tools of metal, or when they were associated with religion. precisely in the same way did the egyptians, who, in the remotest known times, had imposing religious ideas, decline to relinquish the totems and beast-gods and absurd or blasphemous myths which (like flint axes and arrow-heads) are everywhere characteristic of savages. the fact is, that the egyptian mind, when turned to divine matters, was constantly working on, and working over, the primeval stuff of all mythologies and of all religions. first, there is the belief in a moral guardian and father of men; this is expressed in the sacred hymns. next, there is the belief in "a strange and powerful race, supposed to have been busy on earth before the making, or the evolution, or the emergence of man"; this is expressed in the mythical legends. the egyptians inherited a number of legends of extra-natural heroes, not unlike the savage qat, cagn, yehl, pund-jel, ioskeha and quahteaht, the maori tutenganahau and the south sea tangaroa. some of these were elemental forces, personified in human or bestial guise; some were merely idealised medicine-men. their "wanderings, rapes and manslaughters and mutilations," as plutarch says, remained permanently in legend. when these beings, in the advance of thought, had obtained divine attributes, and when the conception of abstract divinity, returning, perhaps, to its first form, had become pure and lofty, the old legends became so many stumbling-blocks to the faithful. they were explained away as allegories (every student having his own allegorical system), or the extranatural beings were taken (as by plutarch) to be "demons, not gods ". a brief and summary account of the chief figures in the egyptian pantheon will make it sufficiently plain that this is a plausible theory of the gods of egypt, and a probable interpretation of their adventures. accepting the classification proposed by m. maspero, and remembering the limitations under which it holds good, we find that:-- . the gods of death and the dead were sokari, isis and osiris, the young horus and nephthys.* . the elemental gods were seb and nut, of whom seb is the earth and nut the heavens. these two, like heaven and earth in almost all mythologies, are represented as the parents of many of the gods. the other elemental deities are but obscurely known. . among solar deities are at once recognised ra and others, but there was a strong tendency to identify each of the gods with the sun, especially to identify osiris with the sun in his nightly absence.** each god, again, was apt to be blended with one or more of the sacred animals. "ra, in his transformations, assumed the form of the lion, cat and hawk."*** "the great cat in the alley of persea trees at heliopolis, which is ra, crushed the serpent."**** * their special relation to the souls of the departed is matter for a separate discussion. ** "the gods of the dead and the elemental gods were almost all identified with the sun, for the purpose of blending them in a theistic unity" (maspero, _rev. de l'hist. des rel_., i. ). *** birch, in wilkinson, iii. . ***le page renouf, op. cit., p. . in different nomes and towns, it either happened that the same gods had different names, or that analogies were recognised between different local gods; in which case the names were often combined, as in ammon-ra, sabek-ra, sokar-osiris, and so forth. athwart all these classes and compounds of gods, and athwart the theological attempt at constructing a monotheism out of contradictory materials, came that ancient idea of dualism which exists in the myths of the most backward peoples. as pund-jel in australia had his enemy, the crow, as in america yehl had his khanukh, as ioskeha had his tawiscara, so the gods of egypt, and specially osiris, have their set or typhon, the spirit who constantly resists and destroys. with these premises we approach the great osirian myth. the osirian myth. the great egyptian myth, the myth of osiris, turns on the antagonism of osiris and set, and the persistence of the blood-feud between set and the kindred of osiris.* to narrate and as far as possible elucidate this myth is the chief task of the student of egyptian mythology. though the osiris myth, according to mr. le page renouf, is "as old as egyptian civilisation," and though m. maspero finds the osiris myth in all its details under the first dynasties, our accounts of it are by no means so early.** * herodotus, ii. . ** the principal native documents are the magical harris papyrus, of the nineteenth or twentieth dynasty, translated by m. chabas (records of the past, x. ); the papyrus of nebseni (eighteenth dynasty), translated by m. naville, and in records of past, x. ; the hymn to osiris, on a stele (eighteenth dynasty) translated by m. chabas (rev. archeol., ; records of past, iv. ); "the book of respirations," mythically said to have been made by isis to restore osiris-- "book of the breath of life" (the papyrus is probably of the time of the ptolemies--records of part, iv. ); "the lamentations of isis and nephthys," translated by m. de horrack (records of past, ii. ). there is also "the book of the dead": the version of m. pierret, (paris, ) is convenient in shape (also birch, in bunsen, vol. v.). m. de naville's new edition is elaborate and costly, and without a translation. sarcophagi and royal tombs (champollion) also contain many representations of the incidents in the myth. "the myth of osiris in its details, the laying out of his body by his wife isis and his sister nephthys, the reconstruction of his limbs, his mythical chest, and other incidents connected with his myth are represented in detail in the temple of philae" (birch, ap. wilkinson, iii. ). the reverent awe of herodotus prevents him from describing the mystery-play on the sufferings of osiris, which he says was acted at sais, ii. , and ii. , , . probably the clearest and most consecutive modern account of the osiris myth is given by m. lefebure in les yeux d'horus et osiris. m. lefebure's translations are followed in the text; he is not, however, responsible for our treatment of the myth. the ptolemaic version of the temple of edfou is published by m. naville, _mythe d'horus_ (geneva, ). they are mainly allusive, without any connected narrative. fortunately the narrative, as related by the priests of his own time, is given by the author of _de iside et osiride_, and is confirmed both by the egyptian texts and by the mysterious hints of the pious herodotus. here we follow the myth as reported in the greek tract, and illustrated by the monuments. the reader must, for the moment, clear his mind of all the many theories of the meaning of the myth, and must forget the lofty, divine and mystical functions attributed by egyptian theologians and egyptian sacred usage to osiris. he must read the story simply as a story, and he will be struck with its amazing resemblances to the legends about their culture-heroes which are current among the lowest races of america and africa. seb and nut--earth and heaven--were husband and wife. in the _de iside_ version, the sun cursed nut that she should have no child in month or year; but thanks to the cleverness of a new divine co-respondent, five days were added to the calendar. this is clearly a later edition to the fable. on the first of those days osiris was born, then typhon or set, "neither in due time, nor in the right place, but breaking through with a blow, he leaped out from his mother's side".* * de iside et osiride, xii. it is a most curious coincidence that the same story is told of indra in the rig- veda, iv. , . "this is the old and well-known path by which all the gods were born: thou mayst not, by other means, bring thy mother unto death." indra replies, "i will not go out thence, that is a dangerous way: right through the side will i burst". compare (leland, algonquin legends, p. ) the birth of the algonquin typhon, the evil malsumis, the wolf. "glooskap said, 'i will be born as others are'." but the evil malsumis thought himself too great to be brought forth in such a manner, and declared that he would burst through his mother's side. mr. leland's note, containing a buddhist and an armenian parallel, but referring neither to indra nor typhon, shows the _bona fides_ of the algonquin report. the bodhisattva was born through his mother's right side (kern.. der buddhismus, ). the irish version is that our lord was born through the crown of the head of the virgin, like athene. _saltair na rann_, , . se« also liebrecht, _zur volkskunde_, p. . for the irish and buddhist legends (there is an anglo-saxon parallel) i am indebted to mr whitley stokes. probably the feeling that a supernatural child should have no natural birth, and not the borrowing of ideas, accounts for those strange similarities of myth. isis and nephthys were later-born sisters. the greek version of the myth next describes the conduct of osiris as a "culture-hero". he instituted laws, taught agriculture, instructed the egyptians in the ritual of worship, and won them from "their destitute and bestial mode of living". after civilising egypt, he travelled over the world, like the greek dionysus, whom he so closely resembles in some portions of his legend that herodotus supposed the dionysiac myth to have been imported from egypt.* in the absence of osiris, his evil brother, typhon, kept quiet. but, on the hero's return, typhon laid an ambush against him, like Ægisthus against agamemnon. he had a decorated coffer (mummy-case?) made of the exact length of osiris, and offered this as a present to any one whom it would fit. at a banquet all the guests tried it; but when osiris lay down in it, the lid was closed and fastened with nails and melted lead. the coffer, osiris and all, was then thrown into the nile. isis, arrayed in mourning robes like the wandering demeter, sought osiris everywhere lamenting, and found the chest at last in an _erica_ tree that entirely covered it. after an adventure like that of demeter with triptolemus, isis obtained the chest. during her absence typhon lighted on it as he was hunting by moonlight; he tore the corpse of osiris into fourteen pieces, and scattered them abroad. isis sought for the mangled remnants, and, whenever she found one, buried it, each tomb being thenceforth recognised as "a grave of osiris". precisely the same fable occurs in central australian myths of the alcheringa, or legendary past.** * "osiris is dionysus in the tongue of hellas" (herodotus, ii. , ii. ). "most of the details of the mystery of osiris, as practised by the egyptians, resemble the dionysus mysteries of greece.... methinks that melampus, amythaon's son, was well seen in this knowledge, for it was melampus that brought among the greeks the name and rites and phallic procession of dionysus." (compare dels, et os., xxxv.) the coincidences are probably not to be explained by borrowing; many of them are found in america. ** spencer and gillen, p. . the wives "search for the murdered man's mutilated parts". it is a plausible suggestion that, if graves of osiris were once as common in egypt as cairns of heitsi eibib are in namaqualand to-day, the existence of many tombs of one being might be explained as tombs of his scattered members, and the myth of the dismembering may have no other foundation. on the other hand, it must be noticed that a swine was sacrificed to osiris, at the full moon, and it was in the form of a black swine that typhon assailed horus, the son of osiris, whose myth is a _doublure or replica_, in some respects, of the osirian myth itself. we may conjecture, then, that the fourteen portions into which the body of osiris was rent may stand for the fourteen days of the waning moon.** it is well known that the phases of the moon and lunar eclipses are almost invariably accounted for in savage science by the attacks of a beast--dog, pig, dragon, or what not--on the heavenly body. either of these hypothesis (the egyptians adopted the latter)*** is consistent with the character of early myth, but both are merely tentative suggestions.**** * in the edfou monuments set is slain and dismembered in the shape of a red hippopotamus (naville, mythe d'horus, p. ). ** the fragments of osiris were sixteen, according to the texts of deuderah, one for each nome. *** de is. et os., xxxv. **** compare lefebure, les yeux d'horus, pp. . the phallus of osiris was not recovered, and the totemistic habit which made the people of three different districts abstain from three different fish--_lepidotus, phagrus and oxyrrhyncus_--was accounted for by the legend that these fish had devoured the missing portion of the hero's body. so far the power of evil, the black swine typhon, had been triumphant. but the blood-feud was handed on to horus, son of isis and osiris. to spur horus on to battle, osiris returned from the dead, like hamlet's father. but, as is usual with the ghosts of savage myth, osiris returned, not in human, but in bestial form as a wolf.* horus was victorious in the war which followed, and handed typhon over bound in chains to isis. unluckily isis let him go free, whereon horus pushed off her crown and placed a bull's skull on her head. there the greek narrator ends, but** he expressly declines to tell the more blasphemous parts of the story, such as "the dismemberment of horus and the beheading of isis". why these myths should be considered "more blasphemous" than the rest does not appear. it will probably be admitted that nothing in this sacred story would seem out of place if we found it in the legends of pund-jel, or cagn, or yehl, among australians, bushmen, or utes, whose own "culture-hero," like the ghost of osiris, was a wolf. this dismembering of osiris in particular resembles the dismembering of many other heroes in american myth; for example, of chokanipok, out of whom were made vines and flint-stones. objects in the mineral and vegetable world were explained in egypt as transformed parts or humours of osiris, typhon and other heroes.*** * wicked squires in shropshire (miss burns, shropshire folk- lore) "come" as bulls. osiris, in the mendes nonie, "came" as a ram (marietta, denderah, iv. ). ** de is, et os., xx. ***magical text, nineteenth dynasty, translated by dr. birch records of past vi. ; lefebure, osiris, pp. , , , ; livre des morts chap. xvii.; records of past, x. . once more, though the egyptian gods are buried here and are immortal in heaven, they have also, like the heroes of eskimos and australians and indians of the amazon, been transformed into stars, and the priests could tell which star was osiris, which was isis, and which was typhon.* such are the wild inconsistencies which egyptian religion shares with the fables of the lowest races. in view of these facts it is difficult to agree with brugsch** that "from the root and trunk of a pure conception of deity spring the boughs and twigs of a tree of myth, whose leaves spread into a rank impenetrable luxuriance ". stories like the osiris myth--stories found all over the whole world--spring from no pure religious source, but embody the delusions and fantastic dreams of the lowest and least developed human fancy and human speculation. and these flourish, like mistletoe on the oak, over the sturdier growth of a religious conception of another root. the references to the myth in papyri and on the monuments, though obscure and fragmentary, confirm the narrative of the _de iside_. the coffer in which osiris foolishly ventured himself seems to be alluded to in the harris magical papyrus.*** "get made for me a shrine of eight cubits. then it was told to thee, o man of seven cubits, how canst thou enter it? and it had been made for thee, and thou hast reposed in it." * custom and myth, "star myths"; de rouge, nouv. not., p. ; lefebure, osiris, p. . ** religion und mythologie, p. . *** records of past, x. . here, too, isis magically stops the mouths of the nile, perhaps to prevent the coffer from floating out to sea. more to the point is one of the original "osirian hymns" mentioned by plutarch.* the hymn is on a stele, and is attributed by m. chabas, the translator, to the seventeenth dynasty.** osiris is addressed as the joy and glory of his parents, seb and nut, who overcomes his enemy. his sister, isis, accords to him due funeral rites after his death and routs his foes. without ceasing, without resting, she sought his dead body, and wailing did she wander round the world, nor stopped till she found him. light flashed from her feathers.*** horus, her son, is king of the world. such is a _precis_ of the mythical part of the hymn. the rest regards osiris in his religious capacity as a sovereign of nature, and as the guide and protector of the dead. the hymn corroborates, as far as it goes, the narrative of the greek two thousand years later. similar confirmation is given by "the lamentations of isis and nephthys," a papyrus found within a statue of osiris in thebes. the sisters wail for the dead hero, and implore him to "come to his own abode". the theory of the birth of horus here is that he was formed out of the scattered members of osiris, an hypothesis, of course, inconsistent with the other myths (especially with the myth that he dived for the members of osiris in the shape of a crocodile),**** and, therefore, all the more mythical. * de is. et os., . ** rev. archeol., may, . *** the greek version says that isis took the form of a swallow. **** mariette, denderah, iv. , , . the "book of respirations," finally, contains the magical songs by which isis was feigned to have restored breath and life to osiris.* in the representations of the vengeance and triumph of horus on the temple walls of edfou in the ptolemaic period, horus, accompanied by isis, not only chains up and pierces the red hippopotamus (or pig in some designs), who is set, but, exercising reprisals, cuts him into pieces, as set cut osiris. isis instructs osiris as to the portion which properly falls to each of nine gods. isis reserves his head and "saddle"; osiris gets the thigh; the bones are given to the cats. as each god had his local habitation in a given town, there is doubtless reference to local myths. at edfou also the animal of set is sacrificed, symbolically in his image made of paste, a common practice in ancient mexico.** * records of past, iv. . ** herodotus, ii. ; de. is. et os., . see also porphyry's life of pythagoras, who sacrificed a bull made of paste, liebrecht, zur volkskunde, p. . many of these myths, as m. naville remarks, are doubtless ratiological: the priests, as in the brahmanas, told them to account for peculiar parts of the ritual, and to explain strange local names. thus the names of many places are explained by myths setting forth that they commemorate some event in the campaign of horus against set. in precisely the same way the local superstitions, originally totemic, about various animals were explained by myths attaching these animals to the legends of the gods. explanations of the osiris myth thus handed down to us were common among the ancient students of religion. many of them are reported in the familiar tract de iside et osiride. they are all the interpretations of civilised men, whose method is to ask themselves, "now, if _i_ had told such a tale as this, or invented such a mystery-play of divine misadventures, what meaning could _i_ have intended to convey in what is apparently blasphemous nonsense?" there were moral, solar, lunar, cosmical, tellurian, and other methods of accounting for a myth which, in its origin, appears to be one of the world-wide early legends of the strife between a fabulous good being and his brother, a fabulous evil being. most probably some incidents from a moon-myth have also crept into, or from the first made part of, the tale of osiris. the enmity of typhon to the eyes of horus, which he extinguishes, and which are restored,* has much the air of an early mythical attempt to explain the phenomena of eclipses, or even of sunset. we can plainly see how local and tribal superstitions, according to which this or that beast, fish, or tree was held sacred, came to be tagged to the general body of the myth. this or that fish was not eaten; this or that tree was holy; and men who had lost the true explanation of these superstitions explained them by saying that the fish had tasted, or the tree had sheltered. * livre des moris, pp. , . this view of the myth, while it does not pretend to account for every detail, refers it to a large class of similar narratives, to the barbarous dualistic legends about the original good and bad extra-natural beings, which are still found current among contemporary savages. these tales are the natural expression of the savage fancy, and we presume that the myth of the mutilated osiris survived in egypt, just as the use of flint-headed arrows and flint knives survived during millenniums in which bronze and iron were perfectly familiar. the cause assigned is adequate, and the process of survival is verified. whether this be the correct theory of the fundamental facts of the myth or not, it is certain that the myth received vast practical and religious developments. orisis did not remain the mere culture-hero of whom we have read the story, wounded in the house of his friends, dismembered, restored and buried, reappearing as a wolf or bull, or translated to a star. his worship pervaded the whole of egypt, and his name grew into a kind of hieroglyph for all that is divine. "the osirian type, in its long evolution, ended in being the symbol of the whole deified universe--underworld and world of earth, the waters above and the waters below. it is osiris that floods egypt in the nile, and that clothes her with the growing grain. his are the sacred eyes, the sun that is born daily and meets a daily death, the moon that every month is young and waxes old. osiris is the soul that animates these, the soul that vivifies all things, and all things are but his body. he is, like ra of the royal tombs, the earth and the sun, the creator and the created."* * lefebure, osiris, p. . such is the splendid sacred vestment which egyptian theology wove for the mangled and massacred hero of the myth. all forces, all powers, were finally recognised in him; he was sun and moon, and the maker of all things; he was the truth and the life; in him all men were justified. on the origin of the myth philology throws no light. m. lefebure recognises in the name osiris the meaning of "the infernal abode," or "the nocturnal residence of the sacred eye," for, in the duel of set and horus, he sees a mythical account of the daily setting of the sun.* "osiris himself, the sun at his setting, became a centre round which the other incidents of the war of the gods gradually crystallised." osiris is also the earth. it would be difficult either to prove or disprove this contention, and the usual divergency of opinion as to the meaning and etymology of the word "osiris" has always prevailed.** the greek*** identifies osiris with hades. "both," says m. lefebure, "originally meant the dwellings--and came to mean the god--of the dead." in the same spirit anubis, the jackal (a beast still dreaded as a ghost by the egyptians), is explained as "the circle of the horizon," or "the portals of the land of darkness," the gate kept, as homer would say, by hades, the mighty warden. whether it is more natural that men should represent the circle of the horizon or the twilight at sunset as a jackal, or that a jackal-totem should survive as a god, mythologists will decide for themselves.**** * osiris, p. . so lieblein, op. cit., p. . ** see the guesses of etymologists (osiris, pp. , ). horus has even been connected with the greek hera, as the atmosphere! *** de is. os., . **** le page renouf, hibbert lectures, pp. - , . the jackal, by a myth that cannot be called pious, was said to have eaten his father, osiris. mr. frazers theory of osiris as somehow connected with vegetation will be found in his _golden bough_. his master, mannhardt, the great writer on vegetation myths, held that osiris was the sun. the conclusions to be drawn from so slight a treatment of so vast a subject are, that in egypt, as elsewhere, a mythical and a religious, a rational and an irrational stream of thought flowed together, and even to some extent mingled their waters. the rational tendency, declared in prayers and hymns, amplifies the early human belief in a protecting and friendly personal power making for righteousness. the irrational tendency, declared in myth and ritual, retains and elaborates the early human confusions of thought between man and beast and god, things animate and inanimate. on the one hand, we have almost a recognition of supreme divinity; on the other, savage rites and beliefs, shared by australians and bushmen. it is not safe or scientific to call one of those tendencies earlier than the other; perhaps we know no race so backward that it is not influenced by forms of both. nor is it safe or scientific to look on ruder practices as corruptions of the purer beliefs. perhaps it may never be possible to trace both streams to the same fountain-head; probably they well up from separate springs in the nature of man. we do but recognise and contrast them; the sources of both are lost in the distance, where history can find no record of actual experience. egyptian religion and myth are thus no isolated things; they are but the common stuff of human thought, decorated or distorted under a hundred influences in the course of unknown centuries of years. chapter xvii. gods of the aryans of india. difficulties of the study--development of clan-gods-- departmental gods-divine patronage of morality--immorality mythically attributed to gods--indra--his love of soma-- scandal about indra--attempts to explain indra as an elemental god--varuna--ushas--the asvins--their legend and theories about it--tvashtri--the maruts--conclusions arrived at. nothing in all mythology is more difficult than the attempt to get a clear view of the gods of vedic india. the perplexed nature of the evidence has already been explained, and may be briefly recapitulated. the obscure documents on which we have to rely, the vedas and the brahmanaa, contain in solution the opinions of many different ages and of many different minds. old and comparatively modern conceptions of the deities, pious efforts to veil or to explain away what seemed crude or profane, the puerilities of ritual, half-conscious strivings in the direction of monotheism or pantheism, clan or family prejudices, rough etymological guesses, and many other elements of doubt combine to confuse what can never have been clear. savage legends, philosophic conjectures, individual predilections are all blended into the collection of hymns called the _rig- veda_. who can bring order into such a chaos? an attempt to unravel the tangled threads of indian faith must be made. the gods of the vedas are, on the whole, of the usual polytheistic type, though their forms mix into each other like shadows cast by a flickering fire. the ideas which may be gathered about them from the ancient hymns have, as usual, no consistency and no strict orthodoxy. as each bard of each bardic family celebrates a god, he is apt to make him for the occasion the pre-eminent deity of all.* this way of conceiving of the gods leads naturally (as thought advances) in the direction of a pantheistic monotheism, a hospitable theology which accepts each divine being as a form or manifestation of the supreme universal spirit. it is easy, however, to detect certain attributes more or less peculiar to each god. as among races far less forward in civilisation, each of the greater powers has his own special department, however much his worshippers may be inclined to regard him as really supreme sovereign. thus indra is mainly concerned with thunder and other atmospheric phenomena: these are his department; but vayu is the wind or the god of the wind, and agni as fire or the god of fire is necessarily not unconnected with the lightning. the maruts, again, are the storm-winds, or gods of the storm-winds; mitra and varuna preside over day and night; ushas is the dawn or the goddess of dawn, and tvashtri is the mechanic among the deities, corresponding more or less closely to the greek hephaestus. * muir, v. . compare muir, i. , on the word _kusikas_, implying, according to benfey, that indra "is designated as the sole or chief deity of this tribe ". cf, also hang, ait. br., ii. . though many of these beings are still in vedic poetry departmental powers with provinces of their own in external nature, they are also supposed to be interested not only in the worldly, but in the moral welfare of mankind, and are imagined to "make for righteousness ". it is true that the myths by no means always agree in representing the gods as themselves moral. incest and other hideous offences are imputed to them, and it is common to explain these myths as the result of the forgotten meanings of sayings which originally were only intended to describe processes of nature, especially of the atmosphere. supposing, for the sake of argument, that this explanation is correct, we can scarcely be expected to think highly of the national taste which preferred to describe pure phenomena like dawn and sunset in language which is appropriate to the worst crimes in the human calendar. it is certain that the indians, when they came to reflect and philosophise on their own religion (and they had reached this point before the veda was compiled), were themselves horrified by the immoralities of some of their gods. yet in vedic times these gods were already acknowledged as beings endowed with strong moral attributes and interested in the conduct of men. as an example of this high ethical view, we may quote mr. max muller's translation of part of a hymn addressed to varuna.* * rig-veda, ii. ; _hibbert lectures_, p. . "take from me my sin like a fetter, and we shall increase, o varuna, the spring of thy law. let not the thread be cut while i weave my song! let not the form of the workman break before the time.... like as a rope from a calf, remove from me my sin, for away from thee i am not master even of the twinkling of an eye.... move far away from me all self-committed guilt, and may i not, o king, suffer for what others have committed. many dawns have not yet dawned; grant me to live in them, o varuna." what follows is not on the same level of thought, and the next verse contains an appeal to varuna to save his worshipper from the effect of magic spells. "whether it be my companion or a friend who, while i was asleep and trembling, uttered fearful spells against me, whether it be a thief or a wolf who wishes to hurt me, protect us against them, o varuna."* agni, again, the god of fire, seems to have no original connection with righteousness. yet even agni** is prayed to forgive whatever sin the worshipper may have committed through folly, and to make him guiltless towards aditi.*** the goddess aditi once more, whether her name (rendered the "boundless") be or be not "one of the oldest names of the dawn,"**** is repeatedly called on by her worshippers to "make them sinless". in the same way sun, dawn, heaven, soma, and earth are implored to pardon sin. * an opposite view is expressed in weber's hist, of sansk. literature. ** rig- veda, iv. , ; viii. , . *** for divergent opinions about aditi, compare _revue de l'histoire des religions_, xii. , pp. - ; muir, v. . **** max müller, _hibbert lectures_, p. . though the subject might be dwelt on at very great length, it is perhaps already apparent that the gods of the vedic poetry are not only potent over regions of the natural world, but are also conceived of, at times, as being powers with ethical tendencies and punishers of mortal guilt. it would be difficult to overstate the ethical nobility of certain vedic hymns, which even now affect us with a sense of the "hunger and thirst after righteousness" so passionately felt by the hebrew psalmists. how this emotion, which seems naturally directed to a single god, came to be distributed among a score, it is hard to conjecture. but all this aspect of the vedic deities is essentially the province of the science of religion rather than of mythology. man's consciousness of sin, his sense of being imperfect in the sight of "larger other eyes than ours," is a topic of the deepest interest, but it comes but by accident into the realm of mythological science. that science asks, not with what feelings of awe and gratitude the worshipper approaches his gods, but what myths, what stories, are told to or told by the worshipper concerning the origin, personal characteristics and personal adventures of his deities. as a rule, these stories are a mere _chronique scandaleuse_, full of the most absurd and offensive anecdotes, and of the crudest fictions. the deities of the vedic poems, so imposing when regarded as vast natural forces, or as the spiritual beings that master vast natural forces, so sympathetic when looked on as merciful gods conscious of, yet lenient towards, the sins of perishing mortals, have also their mythological aspect and their _chronique scandaleuse_.* * here we must remind the reader that the vedas do not offer us all these tales, nor the worst of them. as m. barth says, "le sentiment religieux a ecarte la plupart de ces mythes ainsi que beaucoup d'autres qui le choquaient, mais il ne les a pas ecartes tous" (_religions de l'inde_, p. ). it is, of course, in their anthropomorphic aspect that the vedic deities share or exceed the infirmities of mortals. the gods are not by any means always regarded as practically equal in supremacy. there were great and small, young and old gods,* though this statement, with the habitual inconsistency of a religion without creeds and articles, is elsewhere controverted. "none of you, o gods, is small or young; you are all great."** as to the immortality and the origin of the gods, opinions are equally divided among the vedic poets and in the traditions collected in the brahmanas. several myths of the origin of the gods have already been discussed in the chapter on "aryan myths of the creation of the world and of man". it was there demonstrated that many of the aryan myths were on a level with those current among contemporary savages all over the world, and it was inferred that they originally sprang from the same source, the savage imagination. in this place, while examining the wilder divine myths, we need only repeat that, in one legend, heaven and earth, conceived of as two sentient living beings of human parts and passions, produced the aryan gods, as they did the gods of the new zealanders and of other races. again, the gods were represented in the children of aditi, and this might be taken either in a high and refined sense, as if aditi were the infinite region from which the solar deities rise,*** or we may hold that aditi is the eternal which sustains and is sustained by the gods,**** or the indian imagination could sink to the vulgar and half-magical conception of aditi as a female, who, being desirous of sons, cooked a brahmandana oblation for the gods, the sadhyas.***** * rig-veda, i. , . ** ibid., viii. ; muir, v. . *** max müller, _hibbert lectures_, p. . **** roth, in muir, iv. . ***** _taittirya brahmana_, i. , , ; muir, v. , , . various other gods and supernatural beings are credited with having created or generated the gods. indra's father and mother are constantly spoken of, and both he and other gods are often said to have been originally mortal, and to have reached the heavens by dint of that "austere fervour," that magical asceticism, which could do much more than move mountains. the gods are thus by no means always credited in aryan mythology with inherent immortality. like most of the other deities whose history we have been studying, they had struggles for pre-eminence with powers of a titanic character, the asuras. "asura, 'living,' was originally an epithet of certain powers of nature, particularly of the sky," says mr. max müller.** as the gods also are recognised as powers of nature, particularly of the sky, there does not seem to be much original difference between devas and asuras.*** the opposition between them may be "secondary," as mr. max müller says, but in any case it too strongly resembles the other wars in heaven of other mythologies to be quite omitted. unluckily, the most consecutive account of the strife is to be found, not in the hymns of the vedas, but in the collected body of mythical and other traditions called the brahmanas.**** ** hibbert lectures, p. . *** in the _atharva veda_ it is said that a female asura once drew indra from among the gods (muir, v. ). thus gods and asuras are capable of amorous relations. **** _satapatha br_. the story in the brahmana begins by saying that throughout. see the oxford translation. prajapati (the producer of things, whose acquaintance we have made in the chapter on cosmogonic myths) was half mortal and half immortal. after creating things endowed with life, he created death, the devourer. with that part of him which was mortal he was afraid of death, and the gods were also "afraid of this ender, death". the gods in this tradition are regarded as mortals. compare the _black yajur veda_:* "_the gods were formerly just like men_. they desired to overcome want, misery, death, and to go to the divine assembly. they saw, took and sacrificed with this chaturvimsatiratra, and in consequence overcame want, misery and death, and reached the divine assembly." in the same veda we are told that the gods and asuras contended together; the gods were less numerous, but, as politicians make men peers, they added to their number by placing some bricks in the proper position to receive the sacrificial fire. they then used incantations: "thou art a multiplier"; and so the bricks became animated, and joined the party of the gods, and made numbers more equal.** * _taittirya sanhita_; muir, v. , note . ** according to a later legend, or a legend which we have received in a later form, the gods derived immortality from drinking of the churned ocean of milk. they churned it with mount mandara for a staff and the serpent hasuki for a cord. the _ramayana and mahabharata_ ascribe this churning to the desire of the gods to become immortal. according to the _mahabharata_, a daitya named rahu insinuated himself among the gods, and drank some of the draught of immortality. vishnu beheaded him before the draught reached lower than his throat; his _head_ was thus immortal, and is now a constellation. he pursues the sun and moon, who had spied him among the gods, and causes their eclipses by his ferocity. all this is on a level with australian mythology. to return to the gods in the _satapatha brahmana_ and their dread of death. they overcame him by certain sacrifices suggested by prajapati. death resented this, and complained that men would now become immortal and his occupation would be gone. to console him the gods promised that no man in future should become immortal with his body, but only through knowledge after parting with his body. this legend, at least in its present form, is necessarily later than the establishment of minute sacrificial rules. it is only quoted here as an example of the opinion that the gods were once mortal and "just like men". it may be urged, and probably with truth, that this belief is the figment of religious decadence. as to the victory of the gods over the asuras, that is ascribed by the _satapatha brahmana_* to the fact that, at a time when neither gods nor asuras were scrupulously veracious, the gods invented the idea of speaking the truth. the asuras stuck to lying. the first results not unnaturally were that the gods became weak and poor, the asuras mighty and rich. the gods at last overcame the asuras, not by veracity, but by the success of a magical sacrifice. earlier dynasties of gods, to which the generation of indra succeeded, are not unfrequently mentioned in the _rig- veda_.** * muir, iv. a. ** ibid., v. . on the whole, the accounts of the gods and of their nature present in aryan mythology the inconsistent anthropomorphism, and the mixture of incongruous and often magical and childish ideas, which mark all other mythological systems. this will become still more manifest when we examine the legends of the various gods separately, as they have been disentangled by dr. muir and m. bergaigne from the vedas, and from the later documents which contain traditions of different dates. the vedas contain no such orderly statements of the divine genealogies as we find in hesoid and homer. all is confusion, all is contradiction.* in many passages heaven and earth, dyaus and prithivi, are spoken of as parents of the other gods. dyaus is commonly identified, as is well known, with zeus by the philologists, but his legend has none of the fulness and richness which makes that of zeus so remarkable. before the story of dyaus could become that of zeus, the old aryan sky or heaven god had to attract into his cycle that vast collection of miscellaneous adventures from a thousand sources which fill the legend of the chief hellenic deity. in the veda, dyaus appears now, as with prithivi,** the parent of all, both men and gods, now as a created thing or being fashioned by indra or by tvashtri.*** he is "essentially beneficent, but has no marked individuality, and can only have become the greek zeus by inheriting attributes from other deities ".**** another very early divine person is aditi, the mother of the great and popular gods called adityas. "nothing is less certain than the derivation of the name of aditi," says m. paul regnaud.***** * certain myths of the beginnings of things will be found in the chapter on cosmogonic traditions. ** muir, v. - . *** ibid., v. . **** bergaigne, iii. . ***** _revue de l'histoire des religions_, xii. , . m. regnaud finds the root of aditi in _ad_, to shine. mr. max müller looks for the origin of the word in _a_, privative, and _da_, to bind; thus aditi will mean "the boundless," the "infinite," a theory rejected by m. regnaud. the expansion of this idea, with all its important consequences, is worked out by mr. max müller in his _hibbert lectures_. "the dawn came and went, but there remained always behind the dawn that heaving sea of light or fire from which she springs. was not this the invisible infinite? and what better name could be given than that which the vedic poets gave to it, aditi, the boundless, the yonder, the beyond all and everything." this very abstract idea "may have been one of the earliest intuitions and creations of the hindu mind" (p. ). m. darmesteter and mr. whitney, on the other hand, explain aditi just as welcker and mr. max müller explain cronion. there was no such thing as a goddess named aditi till men asked themselves the meaning of the title of their own gods, "the adityas". that name might be interpreted "children of aditi," and so a goddess called aditi was invented to fit the name, thus philologically extracted from adityas.* m. bergaigne** finds that aditi means "free," "untrammelled," and is used both as an adjective and as a name. * the brahmanic legend of the birth of the adityas (aitareya brahmana iii. ) is too disgusting to be quoted. ** _religion vedique_, iii. . this vague and floating term was well suited to convey the pantheistic ideas natural to the indian mind, and already notable in the vedic hymns. "aditi," cries a poet, "is heaven; aditi is air; aditi is the father, the mother and the son; aditi is all the gods; aditi is that which is born and which awaits the birth."* nothing can be more advanced and metaphysical. meanwhile, though aditi is a personage so floating and nebulous, she figures in fairly definite form in a certain myth. the _rig-veda_ (x. , ) tells us the tale of the birth of her sons, the adityas. "eight sons were there of aditi, born of her womb. to the gods went she with seven; martanda threw she away." the _satapatha brahmana_ throws a good deal of light on her conduct. aditi had eight sons; but there are only seven gods whom men call adityas. the eighth she bore a shapeless lump, of the dimensions of a man, as broad as long, say some. the adityas then trimmed this ugly duckling of the family into human shape, and an elephant sprang from the waste pieces which they threw away; therefore an elephant partakes of the nature of man. the shapen eighth son was called vivasvat, the sun.** * rig- veda, i. , . ** muir, iv. . it is not to be expected that many, if any, remains of a theriomorphic character should cling to a goddess so abstract as aditi. when, therefore, we find her spoken of as a cow, it is at least as likely that this is only part of "the pleasant unconscious poetry" of the veda, as that it is a survival of some earlier zoomorphic belief. gubernatis offers the following lucid account of the metamorphosis of the infinite (for so he understands aditi) into the humble domestic animal: "the inexhaustible soon comes to mean that which can be milked without end" (it would be more plausible to say that what can be milked without end soon comes to mean the inexhaustible), "and hence also a celestial cow, an inoffensive cow, which we must not offend.... the whole heavens being thus represented as an infinite cow, it was natural that the principal and most visible phenomena of the sky should become, in their turn, children of the cow." aditi then is "the great spotted cow". thus did the vedic poets (according to gubernatis) descend from the unconditioned to the byre. from aditi, however she is to be interpreted, we turn to her famous children, the adityas, the high gods. there is no kind of consistency, as we have so often said, in vedic mythical opinion. the adityas, for example, are now represented as three, now as seven; for three and seven are sacred numbers. to the triad a fourth is sometimes added, to the seven an eighth aditya. the adityas are a brotherhood or college of gods, but some of the members of the fraternity have more individual character than, for example, the maruts, who are simply a company with a tendency to become confused with the adityas. considered as a triad, the adityas are varuna, mitra, aryaman. the name of varuna is commonly derived from vri (or var),* to cover, according to the commentator sayana, because "he envelops the wicked in his snares," the nets which he carries to capture the guilty. as god of the midnight sky, varuna is also "the covering" deity, with his universal pall of darkness. varuna's name has frequently been compared to that of uranus (------), the greek god of heaven, who was mutilated by his son cronos. * max müller, select essays, i. . supposing varuna to mean the heaven, we are not much advanced, for _dyu_ also lias the same meaning; yet dyaus and varuna have little in common. the interpreters of the vedas attempted to distinguish mitra from varuna by making the former the god of the daylight, the latter the god of the midnight vault of heaven. the distinction, like other vedic attempts at drawing a line among the floating phantasms of belief, is not kept up with much persistency. of all vedic deities, varuna has the most spiritual and ethical character. "the grandest cosmical functions are ascribed to varuna." "his ordinances are fixed and unassailable." "he who should flee far beyond the sky would not escape varuna the king." he is "gracious even to him who has committed sin". to be brief, the moral sentiments, which we have shown to be often present in a pure form, even in the religion of savages, find a lofty and passionate expression in the vedic psalms to varuna.* but even varuna has not shaken off all remains of the ruder mythopoeic fancy. a tale of the grossest and most material obscenity is told of mitra and varuna in the _rig- veda_ itself--the tale of the birth of vasistha.** in the aitareya brahmana (ii. ) varuna takes a sufficiently personal form. he has somehow fallen heir to a role familiar to us from the russian tale of _tsar morskoi_, the gaelic "battle of the birds," and the scotch "nicht, nought, nothing"*** varuna, in short, becomes the giant or demon who demands from the king the gift of his yet unborn son. * muir, v. . ** rig. veda, vii. , . *** see custom, and myth, "a far-travelled tale," and our chapter postea, on "romantic myths". harischandra is childless, and is instructed to pray to varuna, promising to offer the babe as a human sacrifice. when the boy is born, harischandra tries to evade the fulfilment of his promise. finally a young brahman is purchased, and is to be sacrificed to varuna as a substitute for the king's son. the young brahman is supernaturally released. thus even in vedic, still more in brahmanic myth, the vague and spiritual form of varuna is brought to shame, or confused with some demon of lower earlier legends. there are believed on somewhat shadowy evidence to be traces of a conflict between varuna and indra (the fourth aditya sometimes added to the triad), a conflict analogous to that between uranus and cronos.* the hymn, as m. bergaigne holds, proves that indra was victorious over varuna, and thereby obtained possession of fire and of the soma juice. but these births and battles of gods, who sometimes are progenitors of their own fathers, and who seem to change shapes with demons, are no more to be fixed and scientifically examined than the torn plumes and standards of the mist as they roll up a pass among the mountain pines.** * rig- veda, x. . ** bergaigne, iii. . we next approach a somewhat better defined and more personal figure, that of the famous god indra, who is the nearest vedic analogue of the greek zeus. before dealing with the subject more systematically, it may be interesting to give one singular example of the parallelisms between aryan and savage mythology. in his disquisition on the indian gods, dr. muir has been observing* that some passages of the _rig- veda_ imply that the reigning deities were successors of others who had previously existed. he quotes, in proof of this, a passage from _rig- veda_, iv. , : "who, o indra, made thy mother a widow? who sought to kill thee, lying or moving? what god was present in the fray when thou didst slay thy father, seizing him by the foot?" according to m. bergaigne,** indra slew his father, tvashtri, for the purpose of stealing and drinking the soma, to which he was very partial. this is rather a damaging passage, as it appears that the vedic poet looked on indra as a parricide and a drunkard. to explain this hint, however, sayana the ancient commentator, quotes a passage from the _black yajur veda_ which is no explanation at all. but it has some interest for us, as showing how the myths of aryans and hottentots coincide, even in very strange details. yajna (sacrifice) desired dakshina (largesse). he consorted with her. indra was apprehensive of this. he reflected, "whoever is born of her will be this". he entered into her. indra himself was born of her. he reflected, "whoever is born of her besides me will be this". having considered, he cut open her womb. she produced a cow. here we have a high aryan god passing into and being born from the womb of a being who also bore a cow. the hottentot legend of the birth of their god, heitsi eibib, is scarcely so repulsive.*** * _sanskrit texts_, v. , . ** _religion vedique_, iii. . *** _tsuni goam_, hahn, p. "there was grass growing, and a cow came and ate of that grass, and she became pregnant" (as hera of ares in greek myth), "and she brought forth a young bull. and this bull became a very large bull." and the people came together one day in order to slaughter him. but he ran away down hill, and they followed him to turn him back and catch him. but when they came to the spot where he had disappeared, they found a man making milk tubs. they asked this man, "where is the bull that passed down here?" he said, "i do not know; has he then passed here?" and all the while it was he himself, who had again become heitsi eibib. thus the birth of heitsi eibib resembled that of indra as described in _rig-veda_, iv. , . "his mother, a cow, bore indra, an unlicked calf."* whatever view we may take of this myth, and of the explanation in the brahmana, which has rather the air of being an invention to account for the vedic cow-mother of indra, it is certain that the god is not regarded as an uncreated being.** * ludwig, _die farse hat den groszen, starken, nicht zu venoundenden stier, den tosenden indra, geboren_. ** as to the etymological derivation and original significance of the name of indra, the greatest differences exist among philologists. yaska gives thirteen guesses of old, and there are nearly as many modern conjectures. in roth described indra as the god of "the bright clear vault of heaven" (zeller's _theologisches jahrbuch_, , p. ). compare for this and the following conjectures, e. d. perry, _journal of american oriental society_, vol. i. p. . roth derived the "radiance" from _idh, indh_, to kindle. roth afterwards changed his mind, and selected _in_ or _inv_, to have power over. lassen (_indisclie allerthumskunde_, nd ed., i. p. ) adopted a different derivation. benfey (or. und occ, , p. ) made indra god, not of the radiant, but of the rainy sky. mr. max müller (lectures on science of language, ii. ) made indra "another conception of the bright blue sky," but (p. , note ) he derives indra from the same root as in sanskrit gives indu, drop or sap, that is, apparently, rainy sky, the reverse of blue. it means originally "the giver of rain," and beufey is quoted ut supra. in chips, ii. , indra becomes "the chief solar deity of india ". muir (texts, v. ) identifies the character of indra with that of jupiter pluvius, the rainy jove of rome. grassman (dictionary, s. v.) calls indra "the god of the bright firmament". mr. perry takes a distinction, and regards indra as a god, not of sky, but of air, a midgarth between earth and sky, who inherited the skyey functions of dyu. in the veda mr. perry finds him "the personification of the thunderstorm". and so on! it seems incontestable that in vedic mythology tvashtri is regarded as the father of indra.* thus (ii. , ) indra's thunderbolts are said to have been fashioned by his father. other proofs are found in the account of the combat between father and son. thus (iii. , ) we read, "powerful, victorious, _he gives his body what shape he pleases_. thus indra, having vanquished tvashtri even at his birth, stole and drank the soma."** these anecdotes do not quite correspond with the version of indra's guilt given in the brahmanas. there it is stated*** that tvashtri had a three-headed son akin to the asuras, named vairupa. this vairupa was suspected of betraying to the asuras the secret of soma. indra therefore cut off his three heads. * on the parentage of indra, bergaigne writes, iii. . ** iii. . bergaigne identifies tvashtri and vritra. cf. aitareya brahmana, ii. , note . *** aitareya brahmana, it , note . now vairupa was a brahman, and indra was only purified of his awful guilt, brahmanicide, when earth, trees and women accepted each their share of the iniquity. tvashtri, the father of vairupa, still excluded indra from a share of the soma, which, however, indra seized by force. tvashtri threw what remained of indra's share into the fire with imprecations, and from the fire sprang vritra, the enemy of indra. indra is represented at various times and in various texts as having sprung from the mouth of purusha, or as being a child of heaven and earth, whom he thrust asunder, as tutenganahau thrust asunder rangi and papa in the new zealand myth. in a passage of the _black yajur veda_, once already quoted, indra, sheep and the kshattriya caste were said to have sprung from the breast and arms of prajapati.* in yet another hymn in the _rig- veda_ he is said to have conquered heaven by magical austerity. leaving the brahmanas aside, mr. perry** distinguishes four sorts of vedic texts on the origin of indra:-- . purely physical. . anthropomorphic. . vague references to indra's parents. . philosophical speculations. of the first class,*** it does not appear to us that the purely physical element is so very pure after all. heaven, earth, indra, "the cow," are all thought of as _personal_ entities, however gigantic and vague. in the second or anthropomorphic myths we have**** the dialogue already referred to, in which indra, like set in egypt and malsumis or chokanipok in america, insists on breaking his way through his mother's side.***** * muir, i. . ** op. cit., p. . *** rig- veda, iv. , , , ; iv. , ; i. , ; viii. , ; viii. , - . **** ibid., iv. , . ***** cf. "egyptian divine myths" in verse his mother exposes indra, as maui and the youngest son of aditi were exposed. indra soon after, as precocious as heitsi eibib, immediately on his birth kills his father.* he also kills vritra, as apollo when new-born slew the python. in iii. , , , he takes early to soma-drinking. in x. , , women cradle him as the nymphs nursed zeus in the cretan cave. in the third class we have the odd myth,** "while an immature boy, he mounted the new waggon and roasted for father and mother a fierce bull ". in the fourth class a speculative person tries to account for the statement that indra was born from a horse, "or the verse means that agni was a horse's son". finally, sayana**** explains nothing, but happens to mention that the goddess aditi _swallowed_ her rival nisti, a very primitive performance, and much like the feat of cronos when he dined on his family, or of zeus when he swallowed his wife. * why do indra and his family behave in this bloodthirsty way? hillebrandt says that the father is the heaven which indra "kills" by covering it with clouds. but, again, indra kills his father by concealing the sun. he is abandoned by his mother when the clear sky, from which he is born, disappears behind the veil of cloud. is the father sun or heaven? is the mother clear sky, or, as elsewhere, the imperishability of the daylight? (perry, op. cit., p. ). ** rig- veda, viii. , . *** ibid., x. , . **** ibid., x. , . for sayana, see mr. perry's essay, journal a. . s. , p. . thus a fixed tradition of indra's birth is lacking in the veda, and the fluctuating traditions are not very creditable to the purity of the aryan fancy. in personal appearance indra was handsome and ruddy as the sun, but, like odin and heitsi eibib and other gods and wizards, he could assume any shape at will. he was a great charioteer, and wielded the thunderbolt forged for him by tvashtri, the indian hephaestus. his love of the intoxicating soma juice was notorious, and with sacrifices of this liquor his adorers were accustomed to inspire and invigorate him. he is even said to have drunk at one draught thirty bowls of soma. dr. haug has tasted it, but could only manage one teaspoonful. indra's belly is compared by his admirers to a lake, and there seems to be no doubt that they believed the god really drank their soma, as heitsi eibib really enjoys the honey left by the hottentots on his grave. "i have verily resolved to bestow cows and horses. i have quaffed the soma. the draughts which i have drunk impel me as violent blasts. i have quaffed the soma. i surpass in greatness the heaven and the vast earth. i have quaffed the soma. i am majestic, elevated to the heavens. i have quaffed the soma."* so sings the drunken and bemused indra, in the manner of the cyclops in euripides, after receiving the wine, the treacherous gift of odysseus. according to the old commentator sayana, indra got at the soma which inspired him with his drinking-song by assuming the shape of a quail. the great feats of indra, which are constantly referred to, are his slaughter of the serpent vritra, who had taken possession of all the waters, and his recovery of the sun, which had also been stolen.** * rig- veda, x. . ** ibid., , ; iii. , ; viii. , . these myths are usually regarded as allegorical ways of stating that the lightning opens the dark thundercloud, and makes it disgorge the rain and reveal the sun. whether this theory be correct or not, it is important for our purpose to show that the feats thus attributed to indra are really identical in idea with, though more elevated in conception and style, than certain australian, iroquois and thlinkeet legends. in the iroquois myth, as in the australian,* a great frog swallowed all the waters, and was destroyed by ioskeha or some other animal. in thlinkeet legends, yehl, the raven-god, carried off to men the hidden sun and the waters. among these lower races the water-stealer was thought of as a real reptile of some sort, and it is probable that a similar theory once prevailed among the ancestors of the aryans. vritra and ahi, the mysterious foes whom indra slays when he recovers the sun and the waters, were probably once as real to the early fancy as the australian or iroquois frog. the extraordinary myth of the origin of vritra, only found in the brahmanas, indicates the wild imagination of an earlier period. indra murdered a brahman, a three-headed one, it is true, but still a brahman. for this he was excluded from the banquet and was deprived of his favourite soma. he stole a cup of it, and the dregs, thrown into the fire with a magical imprecation, became vritra, whom indra had such difficulty in killing. before attacking vritra, indra supplied himself with dutch courage. "a copious draught of soma provided him with the necessary courage and strength." the terror of the other gods was abject.** after slaying him, he so lost self-possession that in his flight he behaved like odin when he flew off in terror with the head of suttung.*** * brinton, myths of new world, pp. , . see also chapter i. ** perry, op. cit., p. ; rig-veda, v. , , ; iii. , ; iv. , ; viii. , . *** rig-veda, i. , , tells of a flight as headlong as that of apollo after killing the python. mr. perry explains the flight as the rapid journey of the thunderstorm. if our opinion be correct, the elemental myths which abound in the veda are not myths "in the making," as is usually held, but rather myths gradually dissolving into poetry and metaphor. as an example of the persistence in civilised myth of the old direct savage theory that animals of a semi-supernatural sort really cause the heavenly phenomena, we may quote mr. darmesteter's remark, in the introduction to the _zendavesta_: "the storm floods that cleanse the sky of the dark fiends in it were described in a class of myths as the urine of a gigantic animal in the heavens".* a more savage and theriomorphic hypothesis it would be hard to discover among bushmen or nootkas.** probably the serpent vritra is another beast out of the same menagerie. if our theory of the evolution of gods is correct, we may expect to find in the myths of indra traces of a theriomorphic character. as the point in the ear of man is thought or fabled to be a relic of his arboreal ancestry, so in the shape of indra there should, if gods were developed out of divine beasts, be traces of fur and feather. they are not very numerous nor very distinct, but we give them for what they may be worth. the myth of yehl, the thlinkeet raven-god, will not have been forgotten. in his raven gear yehl stole the sacred water, as odin, also in bird form, stole the mead of suttung. we find a similar feat connected with indra. gubernatis says:*** * sacred books of the east, vol. iv. p. lxxxviii. ** the etymology of vritra is usually derived from vn, to "cover," "hinder," "restrain," then "what is to be hindered," then "enemy," "fiend". *** zoological mythology, ii. . "in the _rig-veda_ indra often appears as a hawk. while the hawk carries the ambrosia through the air, he trembles for fear of the archer kricanus, who, in fact, shot off one of his claws, of which the hedgehog was born, according to the _aitareya brahmana_, and according to the vedic hymn, one of his feathers, which, falling on the earth, afterwards became a tree."* indra's very peculiar relations with rams are also referred to by gubernatis.** they resemble a certain repulsive myth of zeus, demeter and the ram referred to by the early christian fathers. in the _satapatha brahmana_*** indra is called "ram of medhatithi," wife of vrishanasva. indra, like loki, had taken the part of a woman.**** in the shape of a ram he carried off medhatithi, an exploit like that of zeus with ganymede.***** in the vedas, however, all the passages which connect indra with animals will doubtless be explained away as metaphorical, though it is admitted that, like zeus, he could assume whatever form he pleased.****** vedic poets, probably of a late period, made indra as anthropomorphic as the homeric zeus. his domestic life in the society of his consort indrani is described.******* when he is starting for the war, indrani calls him back, and gives him a stirrup-cup of soma. he and she quarrel very naturally about his pet monkey.******** in this brief sketch, which is not even a summary, we have shown how much of the irrational element, how much, too, of the humorous element, there is in the myths about indra. he is a drunkard, who gulps down cask, spigot and all.********* * compare rig-veda, iv. . ** zool. myth., i. . *** ii. . **** rig- veda, i. , . ***** ibid., viii. , . ****** ibid., ****** ibid., iii. , . ******* ibid, , - ; vii. , . ******** ibid., x. . ********* ibid. . he is an adulterer and a "shape-shifter," like all medicine-men and savage sorcerers. he is born along with the sheep from the breast of a vast non-natural being, like ymir in scandinavian myth; he metamorphoses himself into a ram or a woman; he rends asunder his father and mother, heaven and earth; he kills his father immediately after his birth, or he is mortal, but has attained heaven by dint of magic, by "austere fervour". now our argument is that these and such as these incongruous and irrational parts of indra's legend have no necessary or natural connection with the worship of him as a nature-god, an elemental deity, a power of sky and storm, as civilised men conceive storm and sky. on the other hand, these legends, of which plenty of savage parallels have been adduced, are obviously enough survivals from the savage intellectual myths, in which sorcerers, with their absurd powers, are almost on a level with gods. and our theory is, that the irrational part of indra's legend became attached to the figure of an elemental divinity, a nature-god, at the period when savage men mythically attributed to their gods the qualities which were claimed by the most illustrious among themselves, by their sorcerers and chiefs. in the vedas the nature-god has not quite disengaged himself from these old savage attributes, which to civilised men seem so irrational. "trailing clouds of" anything but "glory" does indra come "from heaven, which is his home." if the irrational element in the legend of indra was neither a survival of, nor a loan from, savage fancy, why does it tally with the myths of savages? the other adityas, strictly so called (for most gods are styled adityas now and then by way of compliment), need not detain us. we go on to consider the celebrated soma. soma is one of the most singular deities of the indo-aryans. originally soma is the intoxicating juice of a certain plant.* the wonderful personifying power of the early imagination can hardly be better illustrated than by the deification of the soma juice. we are accustomed to hear in the _märchen_ or peasant myths of scotch, russian, zulu and other races, of drops of blood or spittle which possess human faculties and intelligence, and which can reply, for example, to questions. the personification of the soma juice is an instance of the same exercise of fancy on a much grander scale. all the hymns in the ninth book of the _rig- veda_, and many others in other places, are addressed to the milk-like juice of this plant, which, when personified, holds a place almost as high as that of indra in the indo-aryan olympus. the sacred plant was brought to men from the sky or from a mountain by a hawk, or by indra in guise of a hawk, just as fire was brought to other races by a benevolent bird, a raven or a cow. according to the _aitareya brahmana_ (ii. ), the gods bought some from the gandharvas in exchange for one of their own number, who was metamorphosed into a woman, "a big naked woman" of easy virtue. in the _satapatha brahmana_,** the gods, while still they lived on earth, desired to obtain soma, which was then in the sky. * as to the true nature and home of the soma plant, see a discussion in the _academy_, . ** muir, v. . a gandharva robbed the divine being who had flown up and seized the soma, and, as in the _aitareya brahmana_, the gods won the plant back by the aid of vach, a woman-envoy to the amorous gandharvas. the _black yajur veda_ has some ridiculous legends about soma (personified) and his thirty-three wives, their jealousies, and so forth. soma, in the _rig- veda_, is not only the beverage that inspires indra, but is also an anthropomorphic god who created and lighted up the sun,* and who drives about in a chariot. he is sometimes addressed as a kind of atlas, who keeps heaven and earth asunder.** he is prayed to forgive the violations of his law.*** soma, in short, as a personified power, wants little of the attributes of a supreme deity.**** another, and to modern ideas much more poetical personified power, often mentioned in the vedas, is ushas, or the dawn. as among the australians, the dawn is a woman, but a very different being from the immodest girl dressed in red kangaroo-skins of the murri myth. she is an active maiden, who***** "advances, cherishing all things; she hastens on, arousing footed creatures, and makes the birds fly aloft.... the flying birds no longer rest after thy dawning, o bringer of food (?). she has yoked her horses from the remote rising-place of the sun.... resplendent on thy massive car, hear our invocations." ushas is "like a fair girl adorned by her mother.... she has been beheld like the bosom of a bright maiden...." * rig- veda, vi. , . ** ibid., , . *** ibid., viii. , . **** bergaigne, i. . to me it seems that the rishis when hymning soma simply gave him all the predicates of god that came into their heads. cf. bergaigne, i. . **** rig-veda, i. . "born again and again though ancient, shining with an ever uniform hue, she wasteth away the life of mortals." she is the sister of night, and the bright sun is her child. there is no more pure poetry in the vedic collections than that which celebrates the dawn, though even here the rishis are not oblivious of the rewards paid to the sacrificial priests.* dawn is somewhat akin to the homeric eos, the goddess of the golden throne,** she who loved a mortal and bore him away, for his beauty's sake, to dwell with the immortals. once indra, acting with the brutality of the homeric ares, charged against the car of ushas and overthrew it.*** * rig- veda, i. , . ** ibid., i.. , . *** ibid., iv. , ; ait br., iv. . in her legend, however, we find little but pure poetry, and we do not know that ushas, like eos, ever chose a mortal lover. such is the vedic ushas, but the brahmanas, as usual, manage either to retain or to revive and introduce the old crude element of myth. we have seen that the australians account to themselves for the ruddy glow of the morning sky by the hypothesis that dawn is a girl of easy virtue, dressed in the red opossum-skins she has received from her lovers. in a similar spirit the _aitareya brahmana_ (iv. ) offers brief and childish ætiological myths to account for a number of natural phenomena. thus it explains the sterility of mules by saying that the gods once competed in a race; that agni (fire) drove in a chariot drawn by mules and scorched them, so that they do not conceive. but in this race ushas was drawn by red cows; "hence after the coming of dawn there is a reddish colour". the red cows of the brahmana may pair off with the red opossums of the australian imagination. we now approach a couple of deities whose character, as far as such shadowy things can be said to have any character at all, is pleasing and friendly. the asvins correspond in vedic mythology to the dioscuri, the castor and polydeuces of greece. they, like the dioscuri, are twins, are horsemen, and their legend represents them as kindly and helpful to men in distress. but while the dioscuri stand forth in greek legend as clearly and fairly fashioned as two young knights of the panathenaic procession, the asvins show as bright and formless as melting wreaths of mist. the origin of their name has been investigated by the commentator yaska, who "quotes sundry verses to prove that the two asvins belong together" (sic).* the etymology of the name is the subject, as usual, of various conjectures. it has been derived from _asva_, a horse, from the root as, "to pervade," and explained as a patronymic from asva, the sun. the nature of the asvins puzzled the indian commentators no less than their name. who, then, are these asvins? "heaven and earth," say some.** * max müller, _lectures on language_, ii. . ** yaska in the _nirukta_, xii. . see muir, v. . the "some" who held this opinion relied on an etymological guess, the derivation from _as_ "to pervade ". others inclined to explain the asvins as day and night, others as the sun and moon, others--indian euhemerists--as two real kings, now dead and gone. professor roth thinks the asvins contain an historical element, and are "the earliest bringers of light in the morning sky". mr. max müller seems in favour of the two twilights. as to these and allied modes of explaining the two gods in connection with physical phenomena, muir writes thus: "this allegorical method of interpretation seems unlikely to be correct, as it is difficult to suppose that the phenomena in question should have been alluded to under such a variety of names and circumstances. it appears, therefore, to be more probable that the rishis merely refer to certain legends which were popularly current of interventions of the asvins in behalf of the persons whose names are mentioned." in the veda* the asvins are represented as living in fraternal polyandry, with but one wife, surya, the daughter of the sun, between them. they are thought to have won her as the prize in a chariot-race, according to the commentator sayana. "the time of their appearance is properly the early dawn," when they receive the offerings of their votaries.** "when the dark (night) stands among the tawny cows, i invoke you, asvins, sons of the sky."*** they are addressed as young, beautiful, fleet, and the foes of evil spirits. * rig- veda, i. , ; i. , ; x. , (?). ** muir, v. . *** rig-veda, x. , . there can be no doubt that, when the vedas were composed, the asvins shone and wavered and were eclipsed among the bright and cloudy throng of gods, then contemplated by the rishis or sacred singers. whether they had from the beginning an elemental origin, and what that origin exactly was, or whether they were merely endowed by the fancy of poets with various elemental and solar attributes and functions, it may be impossible to ascertain. their legend, meanwhile, is replete with features familiar in other mythologies. as to their birth, the _rig- veda_ has the following singular anecdote, which reminds one of the cloud-bride of ixion, and of the woman of clouds and shadows that was substituted for helen of troy: "tvashtri makes a wedding for his daughter. hearing this, the whole world assembled. the mother of yama, the wedded wife of the great vivasvat, disappeared. they concealed the immortal bride from mortals. making another of like appearance, they gave her to vivasvat. saranyu bore the two asvins, and when she had done so, deserted the twins."* the old commentators explain by a legend in which the daughter of tvashtri, saranyu, took on the shape of a mare. vivasvat followed her in the form of a horse, and she became the mother of the asvins, "sons of the horse," who more or less correspond to castor and pollux, sons of the swan. the greeks were well acquainted with local myths of the same sort, according to which, poseidon, in the form of a horse, had become the parent of a horse by demeter erinnys (saranyu?), then in the shape of a mare. the phigaleians, among whom this tale was current, worshipped a statue of demeter in a woman's shape with a mare's head. the same tale was told of cronus and philyra.** this myth of the birth of gods, who "are lauded as asvins" sprung from a horse,*** may be the result of a mere _volks etymologie_. * rig-veda, x. , - ; bergaigne, ii. , . ** pausanias, viii. ; virgil, georgia, iii. ; muir, v. . see chapter on "greek divine myths," demeter. *** muir,v. . some one may have asked himself what the word asvins meant; may have rendered it "sprung from a horse," and may either have invented, by way of explanation, a story like that of cronus and philyra, or may have adapted such a story, already current in folk-lore, to his purpose; or the myth may be early, and a mere example of the prevalent mythical fashion which draws no line between gods and beasts and men. it will probably be admitted that this and similar tales prove the existence of the savage element of mythology among the aryans of india, whether it be borrowed, or a survival, or an imitative revival. the asvins were usually benefactors of men in every sort of strait and trouble. a quail even invoked them (mr. max müller thinks this quail was the dawn, but the asvins were something like the dawn already), and they rescued her from the jaws of a wolf. in this respect, and in their beauty and youth, they answer to castor and pollux as described by theocritus. "succourers are they of men in the very thick of peril, and of horses maddened in the bloody press of battle, and of ships that, defying the setting and the rising of the stars in heaven, have encountered the perilous breath of storms."* * theoc. idyll, xxii. i. . a few examples of the friendliness of the asvins may be selected from the long list given by muir. they renewed the youth of kali. after the leg of vispala had been cut off in battle, the asvins substituted an iron leg! they restored sight to rijrasva, whom his father had blinded because, in an access of altruism, he had given one hundred and one sheep to a hungry she-wolf. the she-wolf herself prayed to the asvins to succour her benefactor.* they drew the rishi rebha out of a well. they made wine and liquors flow from the hoof of their own horse.** most of the persons rescued, quail and all, are interpreted, of course, as semblances of the dawn and the twilight. goldstucker says they are among "the deities forced by professor müller to support his dawn-theory". m. bergaigne also leans to the theory of physical phenomena. when the asvins restore sight to the blind kanva, he sees no reason to doubt that "the blind kanva is the sun during the night, or agni or soma is concealment". a proof of this he finds in the statement that kanva is "dark"; to which we might reply that "dark" is still a synonym for "blind" among the poor.*** * rig- veda, i. , . ** ibid., i. , . *** bergaigne, rel. ved., ii. , . m. bergaigne's final hypothesis is that the asvins "may be assimilated to the two celebrants who in the beginning seemed to represent the terrestrial and celestial fires". but this origin, he says, even if correctly conjectured, had long been forgotten. beyond the certainty that the asvins represent the element of kindly and healing powers, as commonly conceived of in popular mythology--for example, in the legends of the saints--there is really nothing certain or definite about their original meaning. a god with a better defined and more recognisable department is tvashtri, who is in a vague kind of way the counterpart of the greek hephaestus. he sharpens the axe of brahmanaspiti, and forges the bolts of indra. he also bestows offspring, is a kind of male aphrodite, and is the shaper of all forms human and animal. saranyu is his daughter. professor kuhn connects her with the storm-cloud, mr. max müller with the dawn.* her wedding in the form of a mare to vivasvat in the guise of a horse has already been spoken of and discussed. tvashtri's relations with indra, as we have shown, are occasionally hostile; there is a blood-feud between them, as indra slew tvashtri's three-headed son, from whose blood sprang two partridges and a sparrow.** the maruts are said to be gods of the tempest, of lightning, of wind and of rain. their names, as usual, are tortured on various by the etymologists. mr. max müller connects _maruts_ with the roots _mar_, "to pound," and with the roman war-god mars. others think the root is _mar_, "to shine". benfey*** says "that the maruts (their name being derived from _mar_, 'to die') are personfications of the souls of the departed". * max müller, _lectures on language_, ii. . ** muir, v. , . *** ibid., v. . their numbers are variously estimated. they are the sons of rudra and prisni. rudra as a bull, according to a tale told by sayana, begat the maruts on the earth, which took the shape of a cow. as in similar cases, we may suppose this either to be a survival or revival of a savage myth or a merely symbolical statement. there are traces of rivalry between indra and the maruts. it is beyond question that the rishis regard them as elementary and mainly as storm-gods. whether they were originally ghosts (like the australian mrarts, where the name tempts the wilder kind of etymologists), or whether they are personified winds, or, again, winds conceived as persons (which is not quite the same thing), it is difficult, and perhaps impossible, to determine. though divers of the vedic gods have acquired solar characteristics, there is a regular special sun-deity in the veda, named surya or savitri. he answers to the helios of the homeric hymn to the sun, conceived as a personal being, a form which he still retains in the fancy of the greek islanders.* surya is sometimes spoken of as a child of aditi's or of dyaus and ushas is his wife, though she also lives in spartan polyandry with the asvin twins.** like helios hyperion, he beholds all things, the good and evil deeds of mortals. he is often involved in language of religious fervour.*** the english reader is apt to confuse surya with the female being surya. surya is regarded by grassmann and roth as a feminine personification of the sun.**** m. bergaigne looks on surya as the daughter of the sun or daughter of savitri, and thus as the dawn. savitri is the sun, golden-haired and golden-handed. from the _satapatha brahmana_***** it appears that people were apt to identify savitri with prajapati.****** * bent's _cyclades_. ** rig- veda, vii. , . *** muir, v. - . **** bergaigne, ii. . ***** xiii. , , . ****** the very strange and important personage of prajapati is discussed in the chapter on "indian cosmogonic myths". these blendings of various conceptions and of philosophic systems with early traditions have now been illustrated as far as our space will permit. the natural conclusion, after a rapid view of vedic deities, seems to be that they are extremely composite characters, visible only in the shifting rays of the indian fancy, at a period when the peculiar qualities of indian thought were already sufficiently declared. the lights of ritualistic dogma and of pantheistic and mystic and poetic emotion fall in turn, like the changeful hues of sunset, on figures as melting and shifting as the clouds of evening. yet even to these vague shapes of the divine there clings, as we think has been shown, somewhat of their oldest raiment, something of the early fancy from which we suppose them to have floated up ages before the vedas were compiled in their present form. if this view be correct, vedic mythology does by no means represent what is primitive and early, but what, in order of development, is late, is peculiar, and is marked with the mark of a religious tendency as strongly national and characteristic as the purest semitic monotheism. thus the veda is not a fair starting-point for a science of religion, but is rather, in spite of its antiquity, a temporary though advanced resting-place in the development of indian religious speculation and devotional sentiment.* * in the chapters on india the translation of the _veda_ used is herr ludwig's (prag, ). much is owed to mr. perry's essay on indra, quoted above. chapter xviii. greek divine myths gods in myth, and god in religion--the society of the gods like that of men in homer--borrowed elements in greek belief--zeus--his name--development of his legend--his bestial shapes explained--zeus in religion--apollo--artemis-- dionysus--athene--aphrodite--hermes--demeter--their names, natures, rituals and legends--conclusions. in the gods of greece, when represented in ideal art and in the best religious sentiment, as revealed by poets and philosophers, from homer to plato, from plato to porphyry, there is something truly human and truly divine. it cannot be doubted that the religion of apollo, athene, artemis and hermes was, in many respects, an adoration directed to the moral and physical qualities that are best and noblest. again, even in the oldest greek literature, in homer and in all that follows, the name of the chief god, zeus, might in many places be translated by our word "god".* * _postea_, "zeus". it is god that takes from man half his virtue on the day of slavery; it is god that gives to each his lot in life, and ensures that as his day is so shall his strength be. this spiritual conception of deity, undifferentiated by shape or attributes, or even by name, declares itself in the homeric terms (------------) and in the (------) of herodotus. these are spiritual forces or tendencies ruling the world, and these conceptions are present to the mind, even of homer, whose pictures of the gods are so essentially anthropomorphic; even of herodotus, in all things so cautiously reverent in his acceptation of the popular creeds and rituals. when socrates, therefore, was doomed to death for his theories of religion, he was not condemned so much for holding a pure belief in a spiritual divinity, as for bringing that opinion (itself no new thing) into the marketplace, and thereby shocking the popular religion, on which depended the rites that were believed to preserve the fortune of the state. it is difficult or impossible quite to unravel the tangled threads of mythical legend, of sacerdotal ritual, of local religion, and of refined religious sentiment in greece. even in the earliest documents, the homeric poems, religious sentiment deserts, in moments of deep and serious thought, the brilliant assembly of the olympians, and takes refuge in that fatherhood of the divine "after which all men yearn".* * _odyssey_, iii. . yet, even in pausanias, in the second century of the christian era, and still more in plutarch and porphyry, there remains an awful acquiescence in such wild dogmas and sacred traditions as antiquity handed down. we can hardly determine whether even homer actually believed in his own turbulent cowardly ares, in his own amorous and capricious zeus. did homer, did any educated greek, turn in his thoughts, when pain, or sorrow, or fear fell on him, to a hope in the help of hermes or athene? he was ready to perform all their rites and offer all the sacrifices due, but it may be questioned whether, even in such a god-fearing man as nicias, this ritualism meant more than a desire to "fulfil all righteousness," and to gratify a religious sentiment in the old traditional forms. in examining greek myths, then, it must be remembered that, like all myths, they have far less concern with religion in its true guise--with the yearning after the divine which "is not far from any one of us," after the god "in whom we live, and move, and have our being"--than with the _religio_, which is a tissue of old barbarous fears, misgivings, misapprehensions. the religion which retained most of the myths was that ancient superstition which is afraid of "changing the luck," and which, therefore, keeps up acts of ritual that have lost their significance in their passage from a dark and dateless past. it was the local priesthoods of demes and remote rural places that maintained the old usages of the ancient tribes and kindreds--usages out of keeping with the mental condition of the splendid city state, or with the national sentiment of hellenism. but many of the old tales connected with, and explanatory of, these ritual practices, after "winning their way to the mythical," as thucydides says, won their way into literature, and meet us in the odes of pindar, the plays of Æschylus and sophocles, the notes of commentators, and the apologetic efforts of plutarch and porphyry. it is with these antique stories that the mythologist is concerned. but even here he need not loose his reverence for the nobler aspects of the gods of greece. like the archaeologist and excavator, he must touch with careful hand these-- strange clouded fragments of the ancient glory, late lingerers of the company divine; for even in ruin of their marble limbs they breathe of that far world wherefrom they came, of liquid light and harmonies serene, lost halls of heaven and far olympian air.* "homer and hesiod named the gods for the greeks;" so herodotus thought, and constructed the divine genealogies. though the gods were infinitely older than homer, though a few of them probably date from before the separation of the indo-aryan and hellenic stocks, it is certain that homer and hesiod stereotyped, to some extent, the opinions about the deities which were current in their time.** * ernest myers, hermes, in _the judgment of prometheus_. ** as a proof of the pre-homeric antiquity of zeus, it has often been noticed that homer makes achilles pray to zeus of dodona (the zeus, according to thrasybulus, who aided deucalion after the deluge) as the "pelasgian" zeus (iliad, xvi. ). "pelasgian" may be regarded as equivalent to " pre-historic greek ". sophocles (trach., ; see scholiast) still speaks of the selli, the priests of dodonean zeus, as "mountain-dwelling and couching on the earth ". they retained, it seems, very primitive habits. be it observed that achilles has been praying for confusion and ruin to the achaeans, and so invokes the deity of an older, perhaps hostile, race. probably the oak-oracle at dodona, the message given by "the sound of a going in the tree-tops" or by the doves, was even more ancient than zeus, who, on that theory, fell heir to the rites of a peasant oracle connected with tree-worship. zeus, according to hesiod, "dwelt in the trunk of the oak tree" (cited by preller, i. ), much as an indian forest-god dwells in the peepul or any other tree. it is rather curious that, according to eustathius (_iliad_, xvi. ), "pelargicus," "connected with storks," was sometimes written for pelasgicus; that there was a dodona in thessaly, and that storks were sacred to the thessalians. hesiod codified certain priestly and delphian theories about their origin and genealogies. homer minutely described their politics and society. his description, however, must inevitably have tended to develop a later scepticism. while men lived in city states under heroic kings, acknowledging more or less the common sway of one king at argos or mycenæ, it was natural that the gods (whether in the dark backward of time greece knew a moral creative being or not) should be conceived as dwelling in a similar society, with zeus for their agamemnon, a ruler supreme but not absolute, not safe from attempts at resistance and rebellion. but when greek politics and society developed into a crowd of republics, with nothing answering to a certain imperial sway, then men must have perceived that the old divine order was a mere survival from the time when human society was similarly ordained. thus xenophanes very early proclaimed that men had made the gods in their own likeness, as a horse, could he draw, would design his deity in equine semblance. but the detection by xenophanes of the anthropomorphic tendency in religion could not account for the instinct which made greeks, like other peoples, as aristotle noticed, figure their gods not only in human shape, but in the guise of the lower animals. for that zoomorphic element in myth an explanation, as before, will be sought in the early mental condition which takes no great distinction between man and the beasts. the same method will explain, in many cases, the other peculiarly un-hellenic elements in greek divine myth. yet here, too, allowance must be made for the actual borrowing of rites and legends from contiguous peoples. the greeks were an assimilative race. the alphabet of their art they obtained, as they obtained their written alphabet, from the kingdoms of the east.* like the romans, they readily recognised their own gods, even under the barbarous and brutal disguises of egyptian popular religion; and, while recognising their god under an alien shape, they may have taken over legends alien to their own national character.** again, we must allow, as in india, for myths which are really late, the inventions, perhaps, of priests or oracle-mongers. but in making these deductions, we must remember that the later myths would be moulded, in many cases, on the ancient models. these ancient models, there is reason to suppose, were often themselves of the irrational and savage character which has so frequently been illustrated from the traditions of the lower races. the elder dynasties of greek gods, uranus and cronos, with their adventures and their fall, have already been examined.*** * helbig, _homerwche epos cms dem denhmalern_. perrot and chipiez, on mycenaean art, represent a later view. ** on the probable amount of borrowing in greek religion see maury, religions de la greece, iii. - ; newton, nineteenth century, , p. . gruppe, griech. culte u. mythen., pp. - *** "greek cosmogonic myths," antea. uranus may have been an ancient sky-god, like the samoyed num, deposed by cronus, originally, perhaps, one of the deputy-gods, active where their chief is otiose, whom we find in barbaric theology. but this is mere guess-work. we may now turn to the deity who was the acknowledged sovereign of the greek olympus during all the classical period from the date of homer and hesiod to the establishment of christianity. we have to consider the legend of zeus. it is necessary first to remind the reader that all the legends in the epic poems date after the time when an official and national olympus had been arranged. probably many tribal gods, who had originally no connection with gods of other tribes, had, by homer's age, thus accepted places and relationships in the olympic family. even rude low-born pelasgian deities may have been adopted into the highest circles, and fitted out with a divine pedigree in perfect order. to return to zeus, his birth (whether as the eldest or the youngest of the children of cronus) has already been studied; now we have to deal with his exploits and his character. about the meaning of the name of zeus the philologists seem more than commonly harmonious. they regard the greek zeus as the equivalent of the sanskrit dyaus, "the bright one," a term for the sky.* * max müller, _selected essays_, ii. ; preller, gr. myth., i. . he was especially worshipped on hill-tops (like the aztec rain-god); for example, on ithome, parnes, cithgeron, and the lycaean hill of arcadia. on the arcadian mountain, a centre of the strangest and oldest rites, the priest of zeus acted as what the african races call a "rainmaker". there was on the hill the sacred well of the nymph hagno, one of the nurses of the child zeus. in time of drought the priest of zeus offered sacrifice and prayer to the water according to ritual law, and it would be interesting to know what it was that he sacrificed. he then gently stirred the well with a bough from the oak, the holy tree of the god, and when the water was stirred, a cloud arose like mist, which attracted other clouds and caused rain. as the priest on a mountain practically occupied a meteorological observatory, he probably did not perform these rites till he knew that a "depression" might be expected from one quarter or another.* * see similar examples of popular magic in gervase of tilbury, otia imperiidia; liebrecht, ii. . the citation is due to freller, i. . wonderful feats of rain-prophecy are done by australian seers, according to mrs. langloh parker and others. as soon as we meet zeus in homer, we find that he is looked on, not as the sky, but as the deity who "dwells in the heights of air," and who exercises supreme sway over all things, including storm and wind and cloud. he casts the lightning forth (--------) he thunders on high (--------), he has dark clouds for his covering (--------) all these imposing aspects he is _religiously_ regarded by people who approach him in prayer. these aspects would be readily explained by the theory that zeus, after having been the personal sky, came to be thought a powerful being who dwelt in the sky, if we did not find such beings worshipped where the sky is not yet adored, as in australia. much the same occurred if, as m. maspero points out, in egypt the animals were worshipped first, and then later the gods supposed to be present in the animals. so the sky, a personal sky, was first adored, later a god dwelling in the sky. but it is less easy to show how this important change in opinion took place, if it really occurred. a philological theory of the causes which produced the change is set forth by mr. keary in his book _primitive belief_. in his opinion the sky was first worshipped as a vast non-personal phenomenon, "the bright thing"(_dyaus_). but, to adopt the language of mr. max müller, who appears to hold the same views, "dyaus ceased to be an expressive predicate; it became a traditional name";* it "lost its radical meaning". thus where a man had originally said, "it thunders," or rather "he thunders," he came to say, "dyaus" (that is, the sky) "thunders". * select essays, ii. . next dyaus, or rather the greek form zeus, almost lost its meaning of the sky, and the true sense being partially obscured, became a name supposed to indicate a person. lastly the expression became "zeus thunders," zeus being regarded as a person, because the old meaning of his name, "the sky," was forgotten, or almost forgotten. the _nomen_ (name) has become a _numen_ (god). as mr. keary puts it, "the god stands out as clear and thinkable in virtue of this name as any living friend can be". the whole doctrine resolves itself into this, a phenomenon originally (according to the theory) considered impersonal, came to be looked on as personal, because a word survived in colloquial expressions after it had lost, or all but lost, its original meaning. as a result, 'all the changes and processes of the impersonal sky came to be spoken of as personal actions performed by a personal being, zeus. the record of these atmospheric processes on this theory is the legend of zeus. whatever is irrational and abominable in the conduct of the god is explained as originally a simple statement of meteorological phenomena. "zeus weds his mother;" that must mean the rain descends on the earth, from which it previously arose in vapour. "zeus weds his daughter," that is, the rain falls on the crop, which grew up from the rainy embrace of sky and earth. here then we have the philological theory of the personality and conduct of zeus. to ourselves and those who have followed us the system will appear to reverse the known conditions of the working of the human mind among early peoples. on the philological theory, man first regards phenomena in our modern way as impersonal; he then gives them personality as the result of a disease of language, of a forgetfulness of the sense of words. thus mr. keary writes: "the idea of personality as apart from matter must have been growing more distinct when men could attribute personality to such an abstract phenomenon as the sky ". where is the distinctness in a conception which produces such confusion? we have seen that as the idea of personality becomes more distinct the range of its application becomes narrower, not wider. the savage, it has been thought, attributes personality to everything without exception. as the idea of personality grows more distinct it necessarily becomes less extensive, till we withdraw it from all but intelligent human beings. thus we must look for some other explanation of the personality of zeus, supposing his name to mean the sky. this explanation we find in a survival of the savage mental habit of regarding all phenomena, even the most abstract, as persons. our theory will receive confirmation from the character of the personality of zeus in his myth. not only is he a person, but in myth, as distinct from religion, he is a very savage person, with all the powers of the medicine-man and all the passions of the barbarian. why should this be so on the philological theory? when we examine the legend of zeus, we shall see which explanation best meets the difficulties of the problem. but the reader must again be reminded that the zeus of myth, in homer and elsewhere, is a very different being from the zeus of religion of achilles's prayer, from the zeus whom the athenians implored to rain on their fields, and from the zeus who was the supreme being of the tragedians, of the philosophers, and of later greece. the early career, _la jeunesse orageuse_, of zeus has been studied already. the child of cronus and rhea, countless places asserted their claim to be the scene of his birth, though the cretan claim was most popular.* * hesiod, _theog_., ; paus., iv. , . in crete too was the grave of zeus: a scandal to pious heathendom. the euhemerists made this tomb a proof that zeus was a deified man. preller takes it for an allegory of winter and the death of the god of storm, who in winter is especially active. zeus narrowly escaped being swallowed by his father, and, after expelling and mediatising that deity, he changed his own wife, metis, into a fly, swallowed her, and was delivered out of his own head of athene, of whom his wife had been pregnant. he now became ruler of the world, with his brother poseidon for viceroy, so to speak, of the waters, and his brother hades for lord of the world of the dead. like the earlier years of louis xiv., the earlier centuries of the existence of zeus were given up to a series of amours, by which he, like charles ii., became the father of many noble families. his legitimate wife was his sister hera, whom he seduced before wedlock "without the knowledge of their dear parents," says homer,* who neglects the myth that one of the "dear parents" ate his own progeny, "like him who makes his generation messes to gorge his appetite". hera was a jealous wife, and with good cause.** the christian fathers calculated that he sowed his wild oats and persecuted mortal women with his affections through seventeen generations of men. his amours with his mother and daughters, with deo and persephone, are the great scandals of clemens alexandrinus and arnobius.*** zeus seldom made love _in propria persona_, in all his meteorological pomp. when he thus gratified semele she was burned to a cinder.**** * it is probable that this myth of the seduction of hera is of samian origin, and was circulated to account for and justify the samian custom by which men seduced their loves first and celebrated the marriage afterwards (scholia on _iliad_, xiv. ). "others say that samos was the place where zeus betrayed hera, whence it comes that the samians, when they go a-wooing, anticipate the wedding first in secret, and then celebrate it openly." yet another myth (_iliad_, xiv. , scholiast) accounts for the hatred which zeus displayed to prometheus by the fable that, before her wedding with zeus, hera became the mother of prometheus by the giant eurymedon. euphorion was the authority for this tale. yet another version occurs in the legend of hephaestus. see also schol., _theoc_., xv. . ** iliad, xiv. , . *** arnobius, adv. nat., v. , where the abominations described defy repetition. the myth of a rock which became the mother of the offspring of zeus may recall the maternal flint of aztec legend and the vagaries of iroquois tradition. compare _clemens alex_., oxford, , i. , for the amours of zeus, deo and persephone, with their representations in the mysteries; also arnob., adv. cent., v. . zeus adopted the shape of a serpent in his amour with his daughter. an ancient tarentine sacred ditty is quoted as evidence, _taurus draconem genuit, et taurum draco_, and certain repulsive performances with serpents in the mysteries are additional testimony. **** apollodorus, iii. , . the amour with danae, when zeus became a shower of gold, might be interpreted as a myth of the yellow sunshine. the amours of zeus under the disguise of various animal forms were much more usual, and are familiar to all.* as cronus when in love metamorphosed himself into a stallion, as prajapati pursued his own daughter in the shape of a roebuck, so zeus became a serpent, a bull, a swan, an eagle, a dove,** and, to woo the daughter of cletor, an ant. similar disguises are adopted by the sorcerers among the algonkins for similar purposes. when pund-jel, in the australian myth of the pleiades, was in love with a native girl, he changed himself into one of those grubs in the bark of trees which the blacks think edible, and succeeded as well as zeus did when he became an ant.*** * the mythologists, as a rule, like the heathen opponents of arnobius, clemens and eusebius, explain the amours of zeus as allegories of the fruitful union of heaven and earth, of rain and grain. preller also allows for the effects of human vanity, noble families insisting on tracing themselves to gods. on the whole, says preller, "zeugung in der natur- religion und mythologie, dasselbe ist was schopfung inden deistischen religionen" (i. ). doubtless all these elements come into the legend; the unions of zeus with deo and persephone especially have much the air of a nature-myth told in an exceedingly primitive and repulsive manner. the amours in animal shape are explained in the text as in many cases survivals of the totemistic belief in descent from beasts, sans phrase. **lian., hist vwr., i. . *** dawson, australian aborigines; custom, and myth, p. . it is not improbable that the metamorphosis of zeus into an ant is the result of a _volks-etymologie_ which derived "myrmidons" from (------), an ant. even in that case the conversion of the ant into an avatar of zeus would be an example of the process of gravitation or attraction, whereby a great mythical name and personality attracts to itself floating fables.* the remark of clemens on this last extraordinary intrigue is suggestive. the thessalians, he says, are reputed to worship ants because zeus took the semblance of an ant when he made the daughter of cletor mother of myrmidon. where people worship any animal from whom they claim descent (in this case through myrmidon, the ancestor of the famed myrmidons), we have an example of stiraight forward totemism. to account for the adoration of the animal on the hypothesis that it was the incarnation of a god, is the device which has been observed in egyptian as in samoan religion, and in that of aboriginal indian tribes, whose animal gods become saints "when the brahmans get a turn at them".** the most natural way of explaining such tales about the amours and animal metamorphoses of so great a god, is to suggest that zeus inherited,*** as it were, legends of a lower character long current among separate families and in different localities. in the same way, where a stone had been worshipped, the stone was, in at least one instance, dubbed with the name of zeus.**** * clemens, p. . ** see mr. h. h. risley on "primitive marriage in bengal," in _astatic quarterly review_, june, . *** in pausanias's opinion cecrops first introduced the belief in zeus, the most highest. **** paus., iii. , l; but the reading is doubtful. the tradition of descent from this or that beast or plant has been shown to be most widely prevalent. on the general establishment of a higher faith in a national deity, these traditions, it is presumed, would not wholly disappear, but would be absorbed into the local legend of the god. the various beasts would become sacred to him, as the sheep was sacred to hera in samos, according to mandrobulus,* and images of the animals would congregate in his temple. the amours of zeus, then, are probably traceable to the common habit of deriving noble descents from a god, and in the genealogical narrative older totemistic and other local myths found a place.** apart from his intrigues, the youth of zeus was like that of some masquerading and wandering king, such as james v. in scotland. though plato, in the _republic_, is unwilling that the young should be taught how the gods go about disguised as strangers, this was their conduct in the myths. thus we read of lycaon and his fifty sons, whom zeus in their own house spied on, and unawares watching at hand, from his disguise arose, and overset the table where they sat around their impious feast, and slew them all.*** clemens of alexandria**** contrasts the "human festival" of zeus among the ethiopians with the inhuman banquet offered to him by lycaon in arcadia.***** * op. clem. alex., i. . ** compare heyne, observ. in apollodor., i. , . *** bridges, _prometheus the firegiver_. **** clem. alex., l . ***** paus., viii. , l. the permanence of arcadian human sacrifice has already been alluded to, and it is confirmed by the superstition that whoever tasted the human portion in the mess sacrificed to zeus became a were-wolf, resuming his original shape if for ten years he abstained from the flesh of men.* a very quaint story of the domestic troubles of zeus was current in plataea, where it was related at the festival named _dædala_. it was said that hera, indignant at the amours of her lord, retired to euboæ. zeus, wishing to be reconciled to her, sought the advice of cithæron, at that time king of platæa. by his counsel the god celebrated a sham marriage with a wooden image, dressed up to personate plataea, daughter of asopus. hera flew to the scene and tore the bridal veil, when, discovering the trick, she laughed, and was reconciled to her husband.** probably this legend was told to explain some incident of ritual or custom in the feast of the dædala, and it is certainly a more innocent myth than most that were commemorated in local mystery-plays. * the wolves connected with the worship of zeus, like his rams, goats, and other animals, are commonly explained as mythical names for elemental phenomena, clouds and storms. thus the ram's fleece, (--------), used in certain expiatory rites (hesych., s. v., lobeck, p. ), is presumed by preller to be a symbol of the cloud. in the same way his regis or goat-skin is the storm-wind or the thunder-cloud. the opposite view will be found in professor robertson smith's article on "sacrifice" in _encyc. brit_., where the similar totemistic rites of the lower races are adduced. the elemental theory is set forth by decharme, _mythologie de la grece antique_ (paris, ), p. . for the "storm-wolf," see preller, i. . it seems a little curious that the wolf, which, on the solar hypothesis, was a brilliant beast connected with the worship of the sun-god, apollo lycaeus, becomes a cloud or storm-wolf when connected with zeus. on the whole subject of the use of the skins of animals as clothing of the god or the ministrant, see lobeck, _aglaoph_., pp. - , and robertson smith, op. cit. ** paus., ix. , . it was not only when he was _en bonne fortune_ that zeus adopted the guise of a bird or beast. in the very ancient temple of hera near mycenae there was a great statue of the goddess, of gold and ivory, the work of polycletus, and therefore comparatively modern. in one hand the goddess held a pomegranate, in the other a sceptre, on which was perched a cuckoo, like the latin woodpecker picus on his wooden post. about the pomegranate there was a myth which pausanias declines to tell, but he does record the myth of the cuckoo. "they say that when zeus loved the yet virgin hera, he changed himself into a cuckoo, which she pursued and caught to be her playmate." pausanias admits that he did not believe this legend. probably it was invented to account for the companionship of the cuckoo, which, like the cow, was one of the sacred animals of hera. myths of this class are probably later than the period in which we presume the divine relationships of gods and animals to have passed out of the totemistic into the samoan condition of belief. the more general explanation is, that the cuckoo, as a symbol of the vernal season, represents the heaven in its wooing of the earth. on the whole, as we have tried to show, the symbolic element in myth is late, and was meant to be explanatory of rites and usages whose original significance was forgotten. it would be unfair to assume that a god was disrespectfully viewed by his earliest worshippers because ætiological, genealogical, and other myths, crystallised into his legend. an extremely wild legend of zeus was current among the galatæ, where pausanias expressly calls it a "local myth," differing from the lydian variant. zeus in his sleep became, by the earth, father of attes, va being both male and female in his nature. agdistis was the local name of this enigmatic character, whom the gods feared and mutilated. from the blood grew up, as in so many myths, an almond tree. the daughter of sangarius, nana, placed some of the fruit in her bosom, and thereby became pregnant, like the girl in the kalewala by the berry, or the mother of huitzilopochtli, in mexico, by the floating feather. the same set of ideas recurs in grimm's _märchen machandelhoom_,* if we may suppose that in an older form the juniper tree and its berries aided the miraculous birth.** it is customary to see in these wild myths a reflection of the phrygian religious tradition, which leads up to the birth of atys, who again is identified with adonis as a hero of the spring and the reviving year. but the story has been introduced in this place as an example of the manner in which floating myths from all sources gravitate towards one great name and personality, like that of zeus. it would probably be erroneous to interpret these and many other myths in the vast legend of zeus, as if they had originally and intentionally described the phenomena of the heavens. they are, more probably, mere accretions round the figure of zeus conceived as a personal god, a "magnified non-natural man".*** * mrs. hunt's translation, i. . ** for parallels to this myth in chinese, aztec, indian, phrygian and other languages, see _le fils de la vierge_, by m. h. de charency, havre, . see also "les deux freres" in m. maspero's _contes egyptians_ ***as to the agdistis myth, m. de charency writes (after quoting forms of the tale from all parts of the world), "this resemblance between different shapes of the same legend, among nations separated by such expanses of land and sea, may be brought forward as an important proof of the antiquity of the myth, as well as of the distant date at which it began to be diffused". another example of local accretion is the fable that zeus, after carrying off ganymede to be his cupbearer, made atonement to the royal family of troy by the present of a vine of gold fashioned by hephaestus.* the whole of the myth of callisto, again, whom zeus loved, and who bore areas, and later was changed into a bear, and again into a star, is clearly of local arcadian origin. if the arcadians, in very remote times, traced their descent from a she-bear, and if they also, like other races, recognised a bear in the constellation, they would naturally mix up those fables later with the legend of the all-powerful zeus.** * scholia on _odyssey_, xl ; iliad, xx. ; eurip., orestes, , and scholiast quoting the _little iliad_. ** compare c. o. müller, _introduction to a scientific system of mythology_, london, , pp. , ; pausaniaa, i , , viii. , . so far we have studied some of the details in the legend of zeus which did not conspicuously win their way into the national literature. the object has been to notice a few of the myths which appear the most ancient, and the most truly native and original. these are the traditions preserved in mystery-plays, tribal genealogies, and temple legends, the traditions surviving from the far off period of the village greeks. it has already been argued, in conformity with the opinion of c. o. müller, that these myths are most antique and thoroughly local. "any attempt to explain these myths in order, such, for instance, as we now find them in the collection of apollodorus, as a system of thought and knowledge, must prove a fruitless task." equally useless is it to account for them all as stories originally told to describe, consciously or unconsciously, or to explain any atmospheric and meteorological phenomena. zeus is the bright sky; granted, but the men who told how he became an ant, or a cuckoo, or celebrated a sham wedding with a wooden image, or offered troy a golden vine, "the work of hephaestus," like other articles of jewellery, were not thinking of the bright sky when they repeated the story. they were merely strengthening some ancient family or tribal tradition by attaching it to the name of a great, powerful, personal being, an immortal. this being, not the elemental force that was zeus, not the power "making for righteousness" that is zeus, not the pure spiritual ruler of the world, the zeus of philosophy, is the hero of the myths that have been investigated. in the tales that actually won their way into national literature, beginning with homer, there is observable the singular tendency to combine, in one figure, the highest religious ideas with the fables of a capricious, and often unjust and lustful supernatural being. taking the myths first, their contrast with the religious conception of zeus will be the more remarkable. zeus is the king of all gods and father of some, but he cannot keep his subjects and family always in order. in the first book of the _iliad_, achilles reminds his mother, the sea-nymph thetis, how she once "rescued the son of cronus, lord of the storm-clouds, from shameful wreck, when all other olympians would have bound him, even hera, and poseidon, and pallas athene ". thetis brought the hundred-handed briareus to the help of the outnumbered and over-mastered zeus. then zeus, according to the scholiast, hung hera out of heaven in chains, and gave apollo and poseidon for slaves to laomedon, king of troy. so lively was the recollection of this _coup d'etat_ in olympus, that hephaestus implores hera (his mother in homer) not to anger zeus, "lest i behold thee, that art so dear, chastised before mine eyes, and then shall i not be able to save thee for all my sorrow".* he then reminds hera how zeus once tossed him out of heaven (as the master of life tossed ataentsic in the iroquois myth), and how he fell in lemnos, "and little life was left in me". the passage is often interpreted as if the fall of hephaestus, the fire-god, were a myth of lightning; but in homer assuredly the incident has become thoroughly personal, and is told with much humour. the offence of hera was the raising of a magic storm (which she could do as well as any lapland witch) and the wrecking of heracles on cos. for this she was chained and hung out of heaven, as on the occasion already described.** * iliad, i. . ** ibid., ; scholia, xiv. . the myth is derived from pherecydes. the constant bickerings between hera and zeus in the _iliad_ are merely the reflection in the upper olympian world of the wars and jealousies of men below. ilios is at war with argos and mycenae, therefore the chief protecting gods of each city take part in the strife. this conception is connected with the heroic genealogies. noble and royal families, as in most countries, feigned a descent from the gods. it followed that zeus was a partisan of his "children," that is, of the royal houses in the towns where he was the most favoured deity. thus hera when she sided with mycenæ had a double cause of anger, and there is an easy answer to the question, _quo numine læso?_ she had her own townsmen's quarrel to abet, and she had her jealousy to incite her the more; for to become father of the human families zeus must have been faithless to her. indeed, in a passage (possibly interpolated) of the fourteenth _iliad_ he acts as his own leporello, and recites the list of his conquests. the perseidæ, the heraclidæ, the pirithoidæ, with dionysus, apollo and artemis spring from the amours there recounted.* moved by such passions, hera urges on the ruin of troy, and zeus accuses her of a cannibal hatred. "perchance wert thou to enter within the gates and long walls, and devour priam raw, and priam's sons, and all the trojans, then mightest thou assuage thine anger."** that great stumbling-block of greek piety, the battle in which the gods take part,*** was explained as a physical allegory by the neo-platonists.**** it is in reality only a refraction of the wars of men, a battle produced among the heavenly folk by men's battles, as the earthly imitations of rain in the vedic ritual beget rain from the firmament. the favouritism which zeus throughout shows to athene***** is explained by that rude and ancient myth of her birth from his brain after he had swallowed her pregnant mother.****** * pherecydes is the authority for the treble night, in which zeus persuaded the sun not to rise when he wooed alemena. ** see the whole passage, iliad, iv. . *** ibid., v. . **** scholia, ed. dindorf, vol iii.; ibid., v. . *****ibid., v. . ****** cf. "hymn to apollo pythius," . but zeus cannot allow the wars of the gods to go on unreproved, and* he asserts his power, and threatens to cast the offenders into tartarus, "as far beneath hades as heaven is high above earth". here the supremacy of zeus is attested, and he proposes to prove it by the sport called "the tug of war". he says, "fasten ye a chain of gold from heaven, and all ye gods lay hold thereof, and all goddesses, yet could ye not drag from heaven to earth zeus, the supreme counsellor, not though ye strove sore. but if once i were minded to drag with all my heart, then i could hang gods and earth and sea to a pinnacle of olympus."** the supremacy claimed here on the score of strength, "by so much i am beyond gods and men," is elsewhere based on primogeniture,*** though in hesiod zeus is the youngest of the sons of cronos. but there is, as usual in myth, no consistent view, and zeus cannot be called omnipotent. not only is he subject to fate, but his son heracles would have perished when he went to seek the hound of hell but for the aid of athene.**** gratitude for his relief does not prevent zeus from threatening athene as well as hera with tartarus, when they would thwart him in the interest of the achæans. hera is therefore obliged to subdue him by the aid of love and sleep, in that famous and beautiful passage,***** which is so frankly anthropomorphic, and was such a scandal to religious minds.****** * iliad, viii. ad init. ** m. decharme regards this challenge to the tug of war as a very noble and sublime assertion of supreme sovereignty. myth, de la greece, p. . *** iliad, xv. . **** ibid., viii. . *****ibid., adv. - . ****** schol. iliad, xiv. ; dindorf, vol. iv. in the scholiast's explanation the scene is an allegorical description of spring; the wrath of hera is the remains of winter weather; her bath represents the april showers; when she busks her hair, the new leaves on the boughs, "the high leafy tresses of the trees," are intended, and so forth. not to analyse the whole divine plot of the _iliad_, such is zeus in the mythical portions of the epic. he is the father and master of gods and men, and the strongest; but he may be opposed, he may be deceived and cajoled; he is hot- tempered, amorous, luxurious, by no means omnipotent or omniscient. he cannot avert even from his children the doom that fate span into the threads at their birth; he is no more omniscient than omnipotent, and if he can affect the weather, and bring storm and cloud, so at will can the other deities, and so can any sorcerer, or jossakeed, or biraark of the lower races. in homeric religion, as considered apart from myth, in the religious thoughts of men at solemn moments of need, or dread, or prayer, zeus holds a far other place. all power over mortals is in his hands, and is acknowledged with almost the fatalism of islam. "so meseems it pleaseth mighty zeus, who hath laid low the head of many a city, yea, and shall lay low, for his is the highest power."* it is zeus who gives sorrows to men,** and he has, in a mythical picture, two jars by him full of evil and good, which he deals to his children on earth. in prayer*** he is addressed as zeus, most glorious, most great, veiled in the storm-cloud, that dwelleth in the heaven. he gives his sanction to the oath:**** * _iliad_, ii. . ** ibid., . *** ibid., . **** ibid., iii . "thou sun, that seest all, father zeus, that rulest from ida, most glorious, most great, and things, and nearest all things, and ye rivers, and thou earth, and ye that in the underworld punish men forsworn, whosoever sweareth falsely, be ye witnesses, and watch over the faithful oath". again it is said: "even if the olympian bring not forth the fulfilment" (of the oath) "at once, yet doth he fulfil at the last, and men make dear amends, even with their own heads, and their wives and little ones".* again, "father zeus will be no helper of liars ".** as to the religious sentiment towards zeus of a truly devout man in that remote age, homer has left us no doubt. in eumæus the swineherd of odysseus, a man of noble birth stolen into slavery when a child, homer has left a picture of true religion and undefiled. eumæus attributes everything that occurs to the will of the gods, with the resignation of a child of islam or a scot of the solemn league and covenant.*** "from zeus are all strangers and beggars," he says, and believes that hospitality and charity are well pleasing in the sight of the olympian. when he flourishes, "it is god that increaseth this work of mine whereat i abide". he neither says "zeus" nor "the gods," but in this passage simply "god". "verily the blessed gods love not froward deeds, but they reverence justice and the righteous acts of men;" yet it is "zeus that granteth a prey to the sea-robbers". it is the gods that rear telemachus like a young sapling, yet is it the gods who "mar his wits within him" when he sets forth on a perilous adventure. it is to zeus cronion that the swineherd chiefly prays,**** but he does not exclude the others from his supplication.***** * _iliad_, iv. . ** ibid., iv. . *** _odyssey_, xiv. passim, **** ibid., . ***** _odyssey_, iv. . being a man of scrupulous piety, when he slays a swine for supper, he only sets aside a seventh portion "for hermes and the nymphs" who haunt the lonely uplands.** yet his offering has no magical intent of constraining the immortals. "one thing god will give, and another withhold, even as he will, for with him all things are possible."*** such is a homeric ideal of piety, and it would only gain force from contrast with the blasphemy of aias, "who said that in the god's despite he had escaped the great deep of the sea ".**** ** ibid., xiv. . *** ibid., , . **** ibid., iv. . the epics sufficiently prove that a noble religion may coexist with a wild and lawless mythology. that ancient sentiment of the human heart which makes men listen to a human voice in the thunder and yearn for immortal friends and helpers, lives its life little disturbed by the other impulse which inspires men when they come to tell stories and romances about the same transcendent beings. as to the actual original form of the faith in zeus, we can only make guesses. to some it will appear that zeus was originally the clear bright expanse which was taken for an image or symbol of the infinite. others will regard zeus as the bright sky, but the bright sky conceived of in savage fashion, as a being with human parts and passions, a being with all the magical accomplishments of metamorphosis, rain-making and the rest, with which the medicine-man is credited. a third set of mythologists, remembering how gods and medicine-men have often interchangeable names, and how, for example, the australian biraark, who is thought to command the west wind, is himself styled "west wind," will derive zeus from the ghost of some ancestral sorcerer named "sky". this euhemerism seems an exceedingly inadequate explanation of the origin of zeus. in his moral aspect zeus again inherits the quality of that supernatural and moral watcher of man's deeds who is recognised (as we have seen) even by the most backward races, and who, for all we can tell, is older than any beast-god or god of the natural elements. thus, whatever zeus was in his earliest origin, he had become, by the time we can study him in ritual, poem or sacred chapter, a complex of qualities and attributes, spiritual, moral, elemental, animal and human. it is curious that, on our theory, the mythical zeus must have morally degenerated at a certain period as the zeus of religion more and more approached the rank of a pure and almost supreme deity. on our hypothesis, it was while greece was reaching a general national consciousness, and becoming more than an aggregate of small local tribes, that zeus attracted the worst elements of his myth. in deposing or relegating to a lower rank a crowd of totems and fetishes and ancestral ghosts, he inherited the legends of their exploits. these were attached to him still more by the love of genealogies derived from the gods. for each such pedigree an amour was inevitably invented, and, where totems had existed, the god in this amour borrowed the old bestial form. for example, if a thessalian stock had believed in descent from an ant, and wished to trace their pedigree to zeus, they had merely to say, "zeus was that ant". once more, as zeus became supreme among the other deities of men in the patriarchal family condition, those gods were grouped round him as members of his family, his father, mother, brothers, sisters, wife, mistresses and children. here was a noble field in which the mythical fancy might run riot; hence came stories of usurpations, rebellions, conjugal skirmishes and jealousies, a whole world of incidents in which humour had free play. nor would foreign influences be wanting. a wandering greek, recognising his zeus in a deity of phoenicia or babylon, might bring home some alien myth which would take its place in the general legend, with other myths imported along with foreign objects of art, silver bowls and inlaid swords. thus in all probability grew the legend of the zeus of myth, certainly a deplorable legend, while all the time the greek intellect was purifying itself and approaching the poetical, moral and philosophical conception of the zeus of religion. at last, in the minds of the philosophically religious, zeus became pure deity, and the details of the legend were explained away by this or that system of allegory; while in the minds of the sceptical, zeus yielded his throne to the "vortex" of the aristophanic comedy. thus zeus may have begun as a kindly supreme being; then ætiological and totemistic myths may have accrued to his legend, and, finally, philosophic and pious thought introduced a rational conception of his nature. but myth lived on, ritual lived on, and human victims were slain on the altars of zeus till christianity was the established religion. "solet it be," says pausanias, "as it hath been from the beginning." the gods who fill the court of zeus and surround his throne are so numerous that a complete account of each would exceed the limits of our space. the legend of zeus is typical, on the whole, of the manner in which the several mythical chapters grew about the figures of each of the deities. some of these were originally, it is probable, natural forces or elemental phenomena, conceived of at first as personal beings; while, later, the personal earth or sun shaded off into the informing genius of the sun or earth, and still later was almost freed from all connection with the primal elemental phenomenon or force. in these processes of evolution it seems to have happened occasionally that the god shed, like a shell or chrysalis, his original form, which continued to exist, however, as a deity of older family and inferior power. by such processes, at least, it would not be difficult to explain the obvious fact that several gods have "under-studies" of their parts in the divine comedy. it may be well to begin a review of the gods by examining those who were, or may be supposed to have been, originally forces or phenomena of nature. apollo. this claim has been made for almost all the olympians, but in some cases appears more plausible than in others. for example, apollo is regarded as a solar divinity, and the modes in which he attained his detached and independent position as a brilliant anthropomorphic deity, patron of art, the lover of the nymphs, the inspirer of prophecy, may have been something in this fashion. first the sun may have been regarded (in the manner familiar to savage races) as a personal being. in homer he is still the god "who sees and hears all things,"* and who beholds and reveals the loves of ares and aphrodite. this personal character of the sun is well illustrated in the homeric hymn to hyperion, the sun that dwells on high, where, as mr. max müller says, "the words would seem to imply that the poet looked upon helios as a half-god, almost as a hero, who had once lived upon earth".** it has already been shown that this mythical theory of the origin of the sun is met with among the aztecs and the bushmen.*** in homer, the sun, helios hyperion, though he sees and hears all things,**** needs to be informed by one of the nymphs that the companions of odysseus have devoured his sacred cattle. in the same way the supreme baiame of australia needs to ask questions of mortals. apollo then speaks in the olympian assembly, and threatens that if he is not avenged he will "go down to hades and shine among the dead". the sun is capable of marriage, as in the bulgarian _volkslied_, where he marries a peasant girl,***** and, by perse, he is the father of circe and Æetes.****** * _odyssey_, viii. . ** _selected essays_, i. , note . *** "nature myths," antea. **** _iliad_, iii. . ***** dozon, _chansons bulgares_. ****** _odyssey_, x. . according to the early lyric poet stesichorus, the sun sails over ocean in a golden cup or bowl. "then helios hyperionides went down into his golden cup to cross ocean-stream, and come to the deeps of dark and sacred night, to his mother, and his wedded wife, and his children dear." this belief, in more barbaric shape, still survives in the greek islands.* "the sun is still to them a giant, like hyperion, bloodthirsty when tinged with gold. the common saying is that the sun 'when he seeks his kingdom' expects to find forty loaves prepared for him by his mother.... woe to her if the loaves be not ready! the sun eats his brothers, sisters, father and mother in his wrath."** a well-known amour of helios was his intrigue with rhode by whom he had phaethon and his sisters. the tragedians told how phaethon drove the chariot of the sun, and upset it, while his sisters were turned into poplar trees, and their tears became amber.*** * bent's _cyclades_, p. . ** stesichorus, _poetæ lyrici græci_, pomtow, vol. i. p. ; qf. also mimnermus, op. cit.,i. . *** _odyssey_, xvii. ; scholiast. the story is ridiculed by lucian, de electro. such were the myths about the personal sun, the hero or demigod, helios hyperion. if we are to believe that apollo also is a solar deity, it appears probable that he is a more advanced conception, not of the sun as a person, but of a being who represents the sun in the spiritual world, and who exercises, by an act of will, the same influence as the actual sun possesses by virtue of his rays. thus he brings pestilence on the achæans in the first book of the _iliad_, and his viewless shafts slay men suddenly, as sunstroke does. it is a pretty coincidence that a german scholar, otfried müller, who had always opposed apollo's claim to be a sun-god, was killed by a sunstroke at delphi. the god avenged himself in his ancient home. but if this deity was once merely the sun, it may be said, in the beautiful phrase of paul de st. victor, "pareil a une statue qui surgit des flammes de son moule, apollo se degage vite du soleil".* he becomes a god of manifold functions and attributes, and it is necessary to exercise extreme caution in explaining any one myth of his legend as originally a myth of the sun.** _phoibos_ certainly means "the brilliant" or "shining". it is, however, unnecessary to hold that such epithets as _lyceius, lycius, lycegenes_ indicate "light," and are not connected, as the ancients, except macrobius, believed, with the worship of the wolf.*** the character of apollo as originally a sun-god is asserted on the strength not only of his names, but of many of his attributes and his festivals. it is pointed out that he is the deity who superintends the measurement of time.**** "the chief days in the year's reckoning, the new and full moons and the seventh and twentieth days of the month, also the beginning of the solar year, are reckoned apolline." that curious ritual of the daphnephoria, familiar to many english people from sir frederick leighton's picture, is believed to have symbolised the year. proclus says that a staff of olive wood decorated with flowers supported a central ball of brass beneath which was a smaller ball, and thence little globes were hung.***** * _homines et dieux_, p. . ** there is no agreement nor certainty about the etymology and original meaning of the name apollo. see preller, or. myth., i. . "comparative philologists have not yet succeeded in finding the true etymology of apollo" (max müller, _selected essays_, i. ). *** compare zeus lyceius and his wolf-myths; compare also roscher, _ausfukrliches_ lexikon, p. . **** _sonnengott als zeitordner_, roscher, op. cit., p. . ***** cf. photius, bibl., . the greater ball means the sun, the smaller the moon, the tiny globes the stars and the laurel garlands used in the feast are understood to symbolise the days. pausanias* says that the ceremony was of extreme antiquity. heracles had once been the youth who led the procession, and the tripod which amphitryon dedicated for him was still to be seen at thebes in the second century of our era. another proof of apollo's connection with the sun is derived from the cessation of his rites at delphi during the three winter months which were devoted to dionysus.** the sacred birthday feasts of the god are also connected with the year's renewal.*** once more, his conflict with the great dragon, the pytho, is understood as a symbol of the victory of light and warmth over the darkness and cold of winter. the discomfiture of a dragon by a god is familiar in the myth of the defeat of ahi or vritra by indra, and it is a curious coincidence that apollo, like indra, fled in terror after slaying his opponent. apollo, according to the myth, was purified of the guilt of the slaying (a ceremony unknown to homer) at tempe.**** according to the myth, the python was a snake which forbade access to the chasm whence rose the mysterious fumes of divination. apollo slew the snake and usurped the oracle. his murder of the serpent was more or less resented by the delphians of the time.***** * i ix. , . ** plutarch, depa el. delph., . *** roscher, op. cit., p. . **** proclus, chresl, ed. gaisford, p. ; homer, hymn to apollo, , ; apollod., i. , ; plutarch, quæst. groec., . ***** apollod., heyne, observationes, p. . compare the scholiast on the argument to pindar's pythian odes. the snake, like the other animals, frogs and lizards, in andaman, australian and iroquois myth, had swallowed the waters before its murder.* whether the legend of the slaying of the python was or was not originally an allegory of the defeat of winter by sunlight, it certainly at a very early period became mixed up with ancient legal ideas and local traditions. it is almost as necessary for a young god or hero to slay monsters as for a young lady to be presented at court; and we may hesitate to explain all these legends of an useful feat of courage as nature-myths. in the homeric hymn to apollo pythius, the monster is called _dracæna_, the female form of _drakon_. the drakos and his wife are still popular bogies in modern greek superstition and folk-song.** * preller, i. . ** forchhammer takes the _dracæna_ to be a violent winter torrent, dried up by the sun's rays. cf. decharme, myth. orec., p. . it is also conjectured that the snake is only the sacred serpent of the older oracle of the earth on the same site. Æschylus, _eumenides_, . the monster is the fosterling of hera in the homeric hymn, and the bane of flocks and herds. she is somehow connected with the fable of the birth of the monster typhoeus, son of hera without a father. the homeric hymn derives _pythius_, the name of the god, from (------), "rot," the disdainful speech of apollo to the dead monster, "for there the pest rotted away beneath the beams of the sun". the derivation is a _volks-etymologie_. it is not clear whether the poet connected in his mind the sun and the god. the local legend of the dragon-slaying was kept alive in men's minds at delphi by a mystery-play, in which the encounter was represented in action. in one version of the myth the slavery of apollo in the house of admetus was an expiation of the dragon's death.* through many of the versions runs the idea that the slaying of the serpent was a deed which required purification and almost apology. if the serpent was really the deity of an elder faith, this would be intelligible, or, if he had kinsfolk, a serpent-tribe in the district, we could understand it. apollo's next act was to open a new spring of water, as the local nymph was hostile and grudged him her own. this was an inexplicable deed in a sun god, whose business it is to dry up rather than to open water-springs. he gave oracles out of the laurel of delphi, as zeus out of the oaks of dodona.** presently apollo changed himself into a huge dolphin, and in this guise approached a ship of the cretan mariners.*** he guided, in his dolphin shape, the vessel to crisa, the port of delphi, and then emerged splendid from the waters, and filled his fane with light, a sun-god indeed next, assuming the shape of a man, he revealed himself to the cretans, and bade them worship him in his _delphic_ seat as apollo delphinios, the dolphin-apollo. * eurip., alcestis, schol., line . ** hymn, . *** op. cit., - . such is the ancient tale of the founding of the delphic oracle, in which gods, and beasts, and men are mixed in archaic fashion. it is open to students to regard the dolphin as only one of the many animals whose earlier worship is concentrated in apollo, or to take the creature for the symbol of spring, when seafaring becomes easier to mortals, or to interpret the dolphin as the result of a _volks-etymologie_, in which the name delphi (meaning originally a hollow in the hills) was connected with _delphis_, the dolphin.* on the whole, it seems impossible to get a clear view of apollo as a sun-god from a legend built out of so many varied materials of different dates as the myth of the slaying of the python and the founding of the delphic oracle. nor does the tale of the birth of the god--_les enfances apollon_--yield much more certain information. the most accessible and the oldest form of the birth-myth is preserved in the homeric hymn to the delian apollo, a hymn intended for recital at the delian festival of the ionian people. the hymn begins without any account of the amours of zeus and leto; it is merely said that many lands refused to allow leto a place wherein to bring forth her offspring. but barren delos listened to her prayer, and for nine days leto was in labour, surrounded by all the goddesses, save jealous hera and eilithyia, who presides over child-birth. to her iris went with the promise of a golden necklet set with amber studs, and eilithyia came down to the isle, and leto, grasping the trunk of a palm tree, brought forth apollo and artemis.** such is the narrative of the hymn, in which some interpreters, such as m. decharme, find a rich allegory of the birth of light. leto is regarded as night or darkness, though it is now admitted that this meaning cannot be found in the etymology of her name.*** * roscher, lexikon; preller, i. ; schol. ad lycophr., v. . ** compare theognis, - . *** preller, i. , note ; curtius, gr. Æ, . m. decharme presumes that the palm tree (------) originally meant the morning red, by aid of which night gives birth to the sun, and if the poet says the young god loves the mountain tops, why, so does the star of day. the moon, however, does not usually arise simultaneously with the dawn, as artemis was born with apollo. it is vain, in fact, to look for minute touches of solar myth in the tale, which rests on the womanly jealousy of hera, and explains the existence of a great fane and feast of apollo, not in one of the rich countries that refused his mother sanctuary, but in a small barren and remote island.* among the wilder myths which grouped themselves round the figure of apollo was the fable that his mother leto was changed into a wolf. the fable ran that leto, in the shape of a wolf, came in twelve days from the hyperboreans to delos.** this may be explained as a _volks-etymologie_ from the god's name, "lycegenes," which is generally held to mean "born of light". but the presence of very many animals in the apollo legend and in his temples, corresponding as it does to similar facts already observed in the religion of the lower races, can scarcely be due to popular etymologies alone. the dolphin-apollo has already been remarked. * the french excavators in delos found the original unhewn stone on which, in later days, the statue of the anthropomorphic god was based. ** aristotle, hist. an., vi ; elian., n. a., iv. ; schol. on apol. rhod., ii. there are many traces of connection between apollo and the wolf. in athens there was the lyceum of apollo lukios, wolf-apollo, which tradition connected with the primeval strife wherein Ægeus (goat-man) defeated lukios (wolfman). the lukian apollo was the deity of the defeated side, as athene of the Ægis (goat-skin) was the deity of the victors.* the argives had an apollo of the same kind, and the wolf was stamped on their coins.** according to pausanias, when danaus came seeking the kingship of argos, the people hesitated between him and gelanor. while they were in doubt, a wolf attacked a bull, and the argives determined that the bull should stand for gelanor, the wolf for danaus. the wolf won; danaus was made king, and in gratitude raised an altar to _apollo lukios_, wolf-apollo. that is (as friends of the totemic system would argue), a man of the wolf-stock dedicated a shrine to the wolf-god.*** in delphi the presence of a bronze image of a wolf was explained by the story that a wolf once revealed the place where stolen temple treasures were concealed. the god's beast looked after the god's interest.**** in many myths the children of apollo by mortal girls were exposed, but fostered by wolves.***** in direct contradiction with pausanias, but in accordance with a common rule of mythical interpretation, sophocles****** calls apollo "the wolf-slayer". * paus., i. , . ** preller, i. , note ; paus., ii. , . *** encyc. brit., s. v. "sacrifice". **** paus., x. , . ***** ant. lib., . ****** _electra_, ., it has very frequently happened that when animals were found closely connected with a god, the ancients explained the fact indifferently by calling the deity the protector or the destroyer of the beasts in question. thus, in the case of apollo, mice were held sacred and were fed in his temples in the troad and elsewhere, the people of hamaxitus especially worshipping mice.* the god's name, smintheus, was understood to mean "apollo of the mouse," or "mouse-apollo ".** but while apollo was thus at some places regarded as the patron of mice, other narratives declared that he was adored as sminthian because from mice he had freed the country. this would be a perfectly natural explanation if the vermin which had once been sacred became a pest in the eyes of later generations.*** flies were in this manner connected with the services of apollo. it has already been remarked that an ox was sacrificed to flies near the temple of apollo in leucas. the sacrifice was explained as a device for inducing flies to settle in one spot, and leave the rest of the coast clear. this was an expensive, and would prove a futile arrangement. there was a statue of the locust-apollo (parnopios) in athena the story ran that it was dedicated after the god had banished a plague of locusts.**** * Ælian, h. a., xii. . ** strabo, xiii. . *** it is the explanation preller gives of the mouse-apollo, i. . **** paus., i. , ; strabo, xiii. . a most interesting view of the way in which pious heathens of a late age regarded apollo's menagerie may be got from plutarch's essay on the delphic responses. it is the description of a visit to delphi. in the hall of the corinthians the writer and his friends examine the sacred palm tree of bronze, and "the snakes and frogs in relief round the root of the tree". "why," said they, "the palm tree is not a marsh plant, and frogs are not a corinthian crest." and indeed one would think ravens and swans, and hawks and wolves, and anything else than these reptiles would be agreeable to the god. then one of the visitors, serapion, very learnedly showed that apollo was the sun, and that the sun arises from water. "still slipping into the story your lightings up and your exhalations," cried plutarch, and chaffed him, as one might chaff kuhn, or schwartz, or decharme, about his elemental interpretations. in fact, the classical writers knew rather less than we do about the origin of many of their religious peculiarities. in connection with sheep, again, apollo was worshipped as the ram apollo.* at the festival of the carneia a ram was his victim.** these facts are commonly interpreted as significant of the god's care for shepherds and the pastoral life, a memory of the days when apollo kept a mortal's sheep and was the hind of admetus of thessaly. he had animal names derived from sheep and goats, such as _maloeis tragios_.*** the tale which made apollo the serf and shepherd of mortal men is as old as the _iliad_,**** and is not easy to interpret, whether as a nature-myth or a local legend. laomedon, one of apollo's masters, not only refused him his wage, but threatened to put him in chains and sell him to foreign folk across the sea, and to crop his ears with the blade of bronze. these legends may have brought some consolation to the hearts of free men enslaved. a god had borne like calamities, and could feel for their affliction. * karneios, from (heyschius, s.v.), a ram. ** theocritus, idyll, v. a *** preller, i. , note . **** ii. . xxi. . to return to the beasts of apollo, in addition to dolphins, mice, rams and wolves, he was constantly associated with lizards (powerful totems in australia), cicalas, hawks, swans, ravens, crows, vultures, all of which are, by mythologists, regarded as symbols of the sun-god, in one or other capacity or function. in the _iliad_,* apollo puts on the gear of a hawk, and flits on hawk's wings down ida, as the thlinkeet yehl does on the feathers of a crane or a raven. * xv. . the loves of apollo make up a long and romantic chapter in his legend. they cannot all be so readily explained, as are many of the loves of zeus, by the desire to trace genealogical pedigrees to a god. it is on this principle, however, that the birth of ion, for example, is to be interpreted. the ideal eponymous hero of the ionian race was naturally feigned to be the son of the deity by whose fatherhood all ionians became "brethren in apollo". once more, when a profession like that of medicine was in the hands of a clan conceiving themselves to be of one blood, and when their common business was under the protection of apollo, they inevitably traced their genealogy to the god. thus the medical clan of the asclepiadæ, of which aristotle was a member, derived their origin from asclepius or (as the romans called him) Æsculapius. so far everything in this myth appears natural and rational, granting the belief in the amours of an anthropomorphic god. but the details of the story are full of that _irrational_ element which is said to "make mythology mythological". in the third pythian ode pindar sings how apollo was the lover of coronis; how she was faithless to him with a stranger. pindar does not tell how the crow or the raven flew to apollo with the news, and how the god cursed the crow, which had previously been white, that it should for ever be black. then he called his sister, artemis, to slay the false nymph, but snatched from her funeral pyre the babe asclepius, his own begotten. this myth, which explains the colour of the crow as the result of an event and a divine curse, is an example of the stage of thought already illustrated in the namaqua myth of heitsi eibib, and the peculiarities which his curse attached to various animals. there is also a bushman myth according to which certain blackbirds have white breasts, because some women once tied pieces of white fat round their necks.* it is instructive to observe, as the scholiast on pindar quotes artemon, that pindar omits the incident of the crow as foolish and unworthy. apollo, according to the ode, was himself aware, in his omniscience, of the frailty of coronis. but hesiod, a much earlier poet, tells the story in the usual way, with the curse of the crow, and his consequent change of colour.** the whole story, in its most ancient shape, and with the omissions suggested by the piety of a later age, is an excellent example of the irrational element in greek myth, of its resemblance to savage myth, and of the tendency of more advanced thought to veil or leave out features revolting to pure religion.*** * bleek, _bushman folk-lore_; pindar, _pyth_., iii, with notes of the scholiast. ** pindar, estienne, geneva, , p. . *** for the various genealogies of asclepius and a discussion of the authenticity of the hesiodic fragments, see roscher, _lexikon_, pp. , . the connection of asclepius with the serpent was so close that he was received into roman religion in the form of a living snake, while dogs were so intimately connected with his worship that panofka believed him to have been originally a dog-god (roscher, p. , _revue archeohgique_). in another myth apollo succeeds to the paternal honours of a totem. the telmissians in lycia claimed descent from telmessus, who was the child of an amour in which apollo assumed the form of a dog. "in this guise he lay with a daughter of antenor." probably the lycians of telmissus originally derived their pedigree from a dog, _sans phrase_ and, later, made out that the dog was apollo metamorphosed. this process of veiling a totem, and explaining him away as a saint of the same name, is common in modern india.* * suidas, his authority is dionysius of chalcis bc, see "primitive marriage in bengal," asiatic quarterly, june, . the other loves of apollo are numerous, but it may be sufficient to have examined one such story in detail. where the tale of the amour was not a necessary consequence of the genealogical tendency to connect clans with gods, it was probably, as roscher observes in the case of daphne, an Ætiological myth. many flowers and trees, for example, were nearly connected with the worship and ritual of apollo; among these were notably the laurel, cypress and hyacinth. it is no longer possible to do more than conjecture why each of these plants was thus favoured, though it is a plausible guess that the god attracted into his service various local tree-worships and plant-worships. people would ask why the deity was associated with the flowers and boughs, and the answer would be readily developed on the familiar lines of nature-myth. the laurel is dear to the god because the laurel was once a girl whom he pursued with his love, and who, to escape his embraces, became a tree. the hyacinth and cypress were beautiful youths, dear to apollo, and accidentally slain by him in sport. after their death they became flowers. such myths of metamorphoses, as has been shown, are an universal growth of savage fancy, and spring from the want of a sense of difference between men and things.* the legend of apollo has only been slightly sketched, but it is obvious that many elements from many quarters enter into the sum of his myths and rites.** if apollo was originally the sun-god, it is certain that his influence on human life and society was as wide and beneficent as that of the sun itself. he presides over health and medicine, and over purity of body and soul. he is the god of song, and the hexameter, which first resounded in his temples, uttered its latest word in the melancholy music of the last oracle from delphi:-- say to the king that the beautiful fane hath fallen asunder, phoebus no more hath a sheltering roof nor a sacred cell, and the holy laurels are broken and wasted, and hushed is the wonder of water that spake as it flowed from the deeps of the delphian well. * see "nature-myths," antea. schwartz, as usual, takes daphne to be connected, not with the dawn, but with lightning. "es ist der gewitter-baum." der ursprung der mythologie, berlin, , pg. - . ** for the influence of apollo-worship on greek civilisation, see curtius's history qf greece, english transl., vol. i. for a theory that apollo answers to mitra among "the arians of iran," see duncker's history of greece, vol, i. . in his oracle he appears as the counsellor of men, between men and zeus he is a kind of mediator (like the son of baiame in australia, or of puluga in the andaman isles), tempering the austerity of justice with a yearning and kind compassion. he sanctifies the pastoral life by his example, and, as one who had known bondage to a mortal, his sympathy lightens the burden of the slave. he is the guide of colonists, he knows all the paths of earth and all the ways of the sea, and leads wanderers far from greece into secure havens, and settles them on fertile shores. but he is also the god before whom the athenians first flogged and then burned their human scapegoats.* his example consecrated the abnormal post-homeric vices of greece. he is capable of metamorphosis into various beasts, and his temple courts are thronged with images of frogs, and mice, and wolves, and dogs, and ravens, over whose elder worship he throws his protection. he is the god of sudden death; he is amorous and revengeful. the fair humanities of old religion boast no figure more beautiful; yet he, too, bears the birthmarks of ancient creeds, and there is a shadow that stains his legend and darkens the radiance of his glory. * at the thergelia. see meursius, græcia feriata. artemis. if apollo soon disengages himself from the sun, and appears as a deity chiefly remarkable for his moral and prophetic attributes, artemis retains as few traces of any connection with the moon. "in the development of artemis may most clearly be distinguished," says claus, the progress of the human intellect from the early, rude, and, as it were, natural ideas, to the fair and brilliant fancies of poets and sculptors."* * de dianæ antiguisstma apud græcos natura, vratialaviæ, . there is no goddess more beautiful, pure and maidenly in the poetry of greece. there she shines as the sister of apollo; her chapels are in the wild wood; she is the abbess of the forest nymphs, "chaste and fair", the maiden of the precise life, the friend of the virginal hippolytus; always present, even if unseen, with the pure of heart.* she is like milton's lady in the revel route of the _comus_, and among the riot of olympian lovers she alone, with athene, satisfies the ascetic longing for a proud remoteness and reserve. but though it is thus that the poets dream of her, from the author of the _odyssey_ to euripides, yet the local traditions and cults of artemis, in many widely separated districts, combine her worship and her legend with hideous cruelties, with almost cannibal rites, with relics of the wild worship of the beasts whom, in her character as the goddess of the chase, she "preserves" rather than protects. to her human victims are sacrificed; for her bears, deer, doves, wolves, all the tameless herds of the hills and forests are driven through the fire in achaea. she is adored with bear-dances by the attic girls; there is a gloomy chthonian or sepulchral element in her worship, and she is even blended in ritual with a monstrous many-breasted divinity of oriental religion. perhaps it is scarcely possible to separate now all the tangled skeins in the mixed conception of artemis, or to lay the finger on the germinal conception of her nature. "dark," says schreiber, "is the original conception, obscure the meaning of the name of artemis."** * hippolytus, eurip., - . ** roscher's lexikon, s. v. it is certain that many tribal worships are blended in her legend and each of two or three widely different notions of her nature may be plausibly regarded as the most primitive. in the attempt to reach the original notion of artemis, philology offers her distracting aid and her competing etymologies. what is the radical meaning of her name? on this point claus* has a long dissertation. in his opinion artemis was originally (as dione) the wife, not the daughter, of zeus, and he examines the names dione, diana, concluding that artemis, dione and diana are essentially one, and that diana is the feminine of janus (djanus), corresponding to the greek. as to the etymology of artemis, curtis wisely professes himself uncertain.** a crowd of hypotheses have been framed by more sanguine and less cautious etymologists. artemis has been derived from "safe," "unharmed," "the stainless maiden ". goebel, suggests the root _arpar_ or _par_, "to shake," and makes artemis mean the thrower of the dart or the shooter. but this is confessedly conjectural. the persian language has also been searched for the root of artemis, which is compared with the first syllables in artaphernes, artaxerxes, artaxata, and so forth. it is concluded that artemis would simply mean "the great goddess ". claus again, returning to his theory of artemis as originally the wife of zeus, inclines to regard her as originally the earth, the "mighty mother".**** * roscher's lexikon, s. v., p. . ** etym. or,, th ed., p. . *** lexilogus, i. . **** for many other etymologies of artemis, see roscher's lexikon, p. . among these is "she who cuts the air". even the bear, has occurred to inventive men. as schreiber observes, the philological guesses really throw no light on the nature of artemis. welcker, preller and lauer take her for the goddess of the midnight sky, and "the light of the night".* claus, as we have seen, is all for night, not light; for "night is identical in conception with the earth"--night being the shadow of earth, a fact probably not known to the very early greeks. claus, however, seems well inspired when he refuses to deduce all the many properties, myths and attributes of artemis from lunar aspects and attributes. the smallest grain of ingenuity will always suffice as the essential element in this mythological alchemy, this "transmutation" of the facts of legend into so many presumed statements about any given natural force or phenomenon. from all these general theories and vague hypotheses it is time to descend to facts, and to the various local or tribal cults and myths of artemis. her place in the artistic poetry, which wrought on and purified those tales, will then be considered. this process is the converse of the method, for example, of m. decharme. he first accepts the "queen and huntress, chaste and fair," of poetry, and then explains her local myths and rituals as accidental corruptions of and foreign additions to that ideal. the attic and arcadian legends of artemis are confessedly among the oldest.** * welcker, oriechische gotterlehre, i. , gottingen, ; preller, i. . ** roscher, lexikon, . both in arcadia and attica, the goddess is strangely connected with that animal worship, and those tales of bestial metamorphosis, which are the characteristic elements of myths and beliefs among the most backward races. the arcadian myth of artemis and the she-bear is variously narrated. according to pausanias, lycaon, king of arcadia, had a daughter, callisto, who was loved by zeus. hera, in jealous wrath, changed callisto into a she-bear; and artemis, to please hera, shot the beast. at this time the she-bear was pregnant with a child by zeus, who sent hermes to save the babe, areas, just as dionysus was saved at the burning of semele and asclepius at the death of his mother, whom apollo slew. zeus then transformed callisto into a constellation, the bear.* no more straightforward myth of descent from a beast (for the arcadians claimed descent from areas, the she-bear's son) and of starry or bestial metamorphosis was ever told by cahrocs or kamilaroi. another story ran that artemis herself, in anger at the unchastity of callisto, caused her to become a bear. so the legend ran in a hesiodic poem, according to the extract in eratosthenes.** * paus., viii. , . ** o. müller, engl. transl., p. ; catast., i.; apollodor., iii. ; hyginus, , . a number of less important references are given in bachofen's der bar in den religionen des alterthums. such is the ancient myth, which otfried müller endeavours to explain by the light of his lucid common sense, without the assistance which we can now derive from anthropological research. the nymph callisto, in his opinion, is a mere refraction from artemis herself, under her arcadian and poetic name of calliste, "the most beautiful". hard by the tumulus known as the grave of callisto was a shrine, pausanias tells us, of artemis _calliste_.* pamphos, he adds, was the first poet known to him who praised artemis by this title, and he learned it from the arcadians. müller next remarks on the attributes of artemis in athens, the artemis known as brauronia. "now," says he, "we set out from this, that the circumstance of the goddess who is served at brauron by she-bears having a friend and companion changed into a bear, cannot possibly be a freak of chance, but that this metamorphosis has its foundation in the fact that the animal was sacred to the goddess." it will become probable that the animal actually was mythically identified with the goddess at an extremely remote period, or, at all events, that the goddess succeeded to, and threw her protection over, an ancient worship of the animal. passing then from arcadia, where the friend of the goddess becomes a she-bear, to brauron and munychia in attica, we find that the local artemis there, an artemis connected by legend with the fierce taurian goddess, is served by young girls, who imitate, in dances, the gait of bears, who are called little bears, apktoi, and whose ministry is named aptcreia, that is, "a playing the bear". some have held that the girls once wore bear-skins.** * paus., viii. . ** claus, op. cit., p. . [suchier, de dian brauron, p. .] the bearskin seems later to have been exchanged for a saffron raiment. compare harpokration, aristophanes, _lysistrata_, . the scholiast on that passage collects legendary explanations, setting forth that the rites were meant to appease the goddess for the slaying of a tame bear [cf. apostolius, vii. ]. mr. parnell has collected all the lore in his work on the cults of the greek states. familiar examples in ancient and classical times of this religious service by men in bestial guise are the wolf-dances of the hirpi or "wolves," and the use of the ram-skin in egypt and greece.* these brauronian rites point to a period when the goddess was herself a bear, or when a bear-myth accrued to her legend, and this inference is confirmed by the singular tradition that she was not only a bear, but a bear who craved for human blood.** * servius. jen. i. xi. . for a singular parallel in modern french folk-lore to the dance of the hirpi, see mannhardt, wald und feld qultus, ii , . for the ram, see herodotus, ii. . in thebes the ram's skin was in the yearly festival flayed, and placed on the statue of the god. compare, in the case of the buzzard, bancroft, iii. . great care is taken in preserving the skin of the sacrificed totem, the buzzard, as it makes part of a sacred dress. ** apostolius, viii. , vii. , quoted by o. müller (cf. welcker, i. ). the connection between the arcadian artemis, the artemis of brauron, and the common rituals and creeds of totemistic worship is now, perhaps, undeniably apparent. perhaps in all the legend and all the cult of the goddess there is no more archaic element than this. the speech of the women in the _lysistrata_, recalling the days of their childhood when they "were bears," takes us back to a remote past when the tribes settled at brauron were bear-worshippers, and, in all probability, claimed to be of the bear stock or kindred. their distant descendants still imitated the creature's movements in a sacred dance; and the girls of periclean athens acted at that moment like the young men of the mandans or nootkas in their wolf-dance or buffalo-dance. two questions remain unanswered: how did a goddess of the name of artemis, and with her wide and beneficent functions, succeed to a cult so barbarous? or how, on the other hand, did the cult of a ravening she-bear develop into the humane and pure religion of artemis? here is a moment in mythical and religious evolution which almost escapes our inquiry. we find, in actual historical processes, nothing more akin to it than the relation borne by the samoan gods to the various animals in which they are supposed to be manifest. how did the complex theory of the nature of artemis arise? what was its growth? at what precise hour did it emancipate itself on the whole from the lower savage creeds? or how was it developed out of their unpromising materials? the science of mythology may perhaps never find a key to these obscure problems.* * the symbolic explanation of bachofen, claus and others is to the effect that the she-bear (to take that case) is a beast in which the maternal instinct is very strong, and apparently that the she-bear, deprived of her whelps, is a fit symbol of a goddess notoriously virginal, and without offspring. the goddess of brauron, succeeding probably to the cult of a she-bear, called for human blood. with human blood the artemis orthia of sparta was propitiated. of this goddess and her rights pausanias tells a very remarkable story. the image of the goddess, he declares, is barbarous; which probably means that even among the archaic wooden idols of greece it seemed peculiarly savage in style. astrabacus and alopecus (the ass and the fox), sons of agis, are said to have found the idol in a bush, and to have been struck mad at the sight of it. those who sacrificed to the goddess fell to blows and slew each other; a pestilence followed, and it became clear that the goddess demanded human victims. "her altar must be drenched in the blood of men," the victim being chosen by lot. lycurgus got the credit of substituting the rite in which boys were flogged before the goddess to the effusion of blood for the older human sacrifices.* the taurian artemis, adored with human sacrifice, and her priestess, iphigenia, perhaps a form of the goddess, are familiar examples of this sanguinary ritual.** suchier is probably correct in denying that these sacrifices are of foreign origin. they are closely interwoven with the oldest idols and oldest myths of the districts least open to foreign influence. an achaean example is given by pausanias.*** artemis was adored with the offering of a beautiful girl and boy. not far from brauron, at halae, was a very ancient temple of artemis tauropolos, in which blood was drawn from a man's throat by the edge of the sword, clearly a modified survival of human sacrifice. the whole connection of artemis with taurian rites has been examined by müller,**** in his _orchomenos_***** horns grow from the shoulders of artemis tauropolos, on the coins of amphipolis, and on macedonian coins she rides on a bull. according to decharme,****** the taurian artemis, with her hideous rites, was confused, by an accidental resemblance of names, with this artemis tauropolos, whose "symbol" was a bull, and who (whatever we may think of the symbolic hypothesis) used bulls as her "vehicle" and wore bull's horns. * paus., iii. , . cf. müller, dorians, book ii. chap. , . pausanias, viii. , , mentions a similar custom, ordained by the delphian oracle, the flogging of women at the feast of dionysus in alea of arcadia. ** cf. müller, dorians, it , , and claus, op. cit., cap. v. *** paus., vii. . ****op. cit., ii. , . ***** ibid., p. . qf. euripides, iph. taur., , and roscher, lexikon, p. . ****** mythol. de la grece, p. . müller, on the other hand,* believes the greeks found in tauria (i.e., lemnos) a goddess with bloody "rites, whom they identified by reason of those very human sacrifices, with their own artemis iphigenia". their own worship of that deity bore so many marks of ancient barbarism that they were willing to consider the northern barbarians as its authors. yet it is possible that the tauric artemis was no more derived from the taurians than artemis Æthiopia from the Æthiopians. the nature of the famous diana of the ephesians, or artemis of ephesus, is probably quite distinct in origin from either the artemis of arcadia and attica or the deity of literary creeds. as late as the time of tacitus** the ephesians maintained that leto's twins had been born in their territory. "the first which showed themselves in the senate were the ephesians, declaring that diana and apollo were not born in the island delos, as the common people did believe; and there was in their country a river called cenchrius, and a wood called ortegia, where latona, being great with child, and leaning against an olive tree which is yet in that place, brought forth these two gods, and that by the commandment of the gods the wood was made sacred."*** * mythol. de la grece, ii. , . ** annals, iii. . *** greenwey's _tacitus_, . this was a mere adaptation of the delian legend, the olive (in athens sacred to athene) taking the place of the delian palm-tree. the real artemis of ephesus, "the image that fell from heaven," was an oriental survival. nothing can be less greek in taste than her many-breasted idol, which may be compared with the many-breasted goddess of the beer-producing maguey plant in mexico.* the wilder elements in the local rites and myths of diana are little if at all concerned with the goddess in her olympian aspect as the daughter of leto and sister of apollo. it is from this lofty rank that she descends in the national epic to combat on the ilian plain among warring gods and men. claus has attempted, from a comparison of the epithets applied to artemis, to show that the poets of the iliad and the odyssey take different views of her character. in the iliad she is a goddess of tumult and passion; in the odyssey, a holy maiden with the "gentle darts" that deal sudden and painless death. but in both poems she is a huntress, and the death-dealing shafts are hers both in iliad and odyssey. perhaps the apparent difference is due to nothing but the necessity for allotting her a part in that battle of the olympians which rages in the iliad. thus hera in the iliad addresses her thus:** "how now! art thou mad, bold vixen, to match thyself against me? hard were it for thee to match my might, bow-bearer though thou art, since against women zeus made thee a lion, and giveth thee to slay whomso of them thou wilt. truly it is better on the mountains to slay wild beasts and deer than to fight with one that is mightier than thou." * for an alabaster statuette of the goddess, see roscher's lexikon, p. ** iliad, xxi. . these taunts of hera, who always detests the illegitimate children of zeus, doubtless refer to the character of artemis as the goddess of childbirth. here she becomes confused with ilithyia and with hecate; but it is unnecessary to pursue the inquiry into these details.* like most of the olympians, artemis was connected not only with beast-worship, but with plant-worship. she was known by the names daphnæa and cedreatis; at ephesus not only the olive but the oak was sacred to her; at delos she had her palm tree. her idol was placed in or hung from the branches of these trees, and it is not improbable that she succeeded to the honours either of a tree worshipped in itself and for itself, or of the spirit or genius which was presumed to dwell in and inform it. similar examples of one creed inheriting the holy things of its predecessor are common enough where either missionaries, as in mexico and china, or the early preachers of the gospel in brittany or scandinavia, appropriated to christ the holy days of pagan deities and consecrated fetish stones with the mark of the cross. unluckily, we have no historical evidence as to the moment in which the ancient tribal totems and fetishes and sacrifices were placed under the protection of the various olympians, in whose cult they survive, like flies in amber. but that this process did take place is the most obvious explanation of the rude factors in the religion of artemis, as of apollo, zeus or dionysus. * cf. preller, i. , . bacchylides make hecate the daughter of "deep-bosomed night". ( ). the scholiast on the second idyll of theocritus, in which the sorceress appeals to the magic of the moon, makes her a daughter of zeus and demeter, and identified with artemis. here, more clearly than elsewhere, the artemis appears _sub luce maligna_, under the wan uncertain light of the moon. it was ever the tendency of greek thought to turn from the contemplation of dark and inscrutable things in the character of the gods and to endow them with the fairest attributes. the primitive formless _zoana_ give place to the ideal statues of gold and ivory. the artemis to whom a fawn in a maiden's dress is sacrificed does not haunt the memory of euripides; his artemis is fair and honourable, pure and maidenly, a goddess wandering in lonely places unbeholden of man. it is thus, if one may rhyme the speech of hippolytus, that her votary addresses her:-- for thee soft crowns in thine untrampled mead i weave, my lady, and to thee i bear; thither no shepherd drives his flocks to feed, nor scythe of steel has ever laboured there; nay, through the spring among the blossoms fair the brown bee comes and goes, and with good heed thy maiden, reverence, sweet streams doth lead about the grassy close that is her care! souls only that are gracious and serene by gift of god, in human lore unread, may pluck these holy blooms and grasses green that now i wreathe for thine immortal head, i who may walk with thee, thyself unseen, and by thy whispered voice am comforted. in passages like this we find the truly _natural_ religion, the religion to which man's nature tends, "groaning and travailing" till the goal is won, but it is long in the winning; the paths are rough; humanity is "led by a way that it knew not". dionysus. among deities whose origin has been sought in the personification, if not of the phenomena, at least of the forces of nature, dionysus is prominent.* he is regarded by many mythologists** as the "spiritual form" of the new vernal life, the sap and pulse of vegetation and of the new-born year, especially as manifest in the vine and the juice of the grape. thus preller*** looks on his mother, semele, as a personification of the pregnant soil in spring.**** the name of semele is explained with the familiar diversity of conjecture. whether the human intellect, at the time of the first development of myth, was capable of such abstract thought as is employed in the recognition of a deity presiding over "the revival of earth-life" or not, and whether, having attained to this abstraction, men would go on to clothe it in all manner of animal and other symbolisms, are questions which mythologists seem to take for granted. the popular story of the birth of dionysus is well known. * it is needless to occupy space with the etymological guesses at the sense of the name "dionysus". greek, sanskrit and assyrian have been tortured by the philologists, but refuse to give up their secret, and curtis does not even offer a conjecture (or. etym., ). ** preller, i. . *** i. . **** the birth of dionysus is recorded (iliad, xiv. ; hesiod, theog., ) without the story of the death of semele, which occurs in Æschylus, frg., - ; eurip., bacchæ, i. . his mother, semele, desired to see zeus in all his glory, as he appeared when he made love to hera. having promised to grant all the nymph's requests, zeus was constrained to approach her in thunder and lightning. she was burned to death, but the god rescued her unborn child and sowed him up in his own thigh. in this wild narrative preller finds the wedlock of heaven and earth, "the first day that it thunders in march". the thigh of zeus is to be interpreted as "the cool moist clouds". if, on the other hand, we may take dionysus himself to be the rain, as kuhn does, and explain the thigh of zeus by comparison with certain details in the soma sacrifice and the right thigh of indra, as described in one of the brahmanas, why then, of course, preller's explanation cannot be admitted.* * kuhn, herabkunft, pp. , , where it appears that the gods buy soma and place it on the right thigh of indra. these examples show the difficulty, or rather indicate the error, of attempting to interpret all the details in any myth as so many statements about natural phenomena and natural forces. such interpretations are necessarily conjectural. certainly dionysus, the god of orgies, of wine, of poetry, became in later greek thought something very like the "spiritual form" of the vine, and the patron of nature's moods of revelry. but that he was originally conceived of thus, or that this conception may be minutely traced through each incident of his legend, cannot be scientifically established. each mythologist, as has been said before, is, in fact, asking himself, "what meaning would i have had if i told this or that story of the god of the vine or the god of the year's renewal?" the imaginations in which the tale of the double birth of dionysus arose were so unlike the imagination of an erudite modern german that these guesses are absolutely baseless. nay, when we are told that the child was sheltered in his father's body, and was actually brought to birth by the father, we may be reminded, like bachofen, of that widespread savage custom, the _couvade_. from brazil to the basque country it has been common for the father to pretend to lie-in while the mother is in childbed; the husband undergoes medical treatment, in many cases being put to bed for days.* this custom, "world-wide," as mr. tylor calls it, has been used by bachofen as the source of the myth of the double birth of dionysus. though other explanations of the _couvade_ have been given, the most plausible theory represents it as a recognition of paternity by the father. bachofen compares the ceremony by which, when hera became reconciled to herakles, she adopted him as her own through the legal fiction of his second birth. the custom by which, in old french marriage rites, illegitimate children were legitimised by being brought to the altar under the veil of the bride is also in point.** diodorus says that barbarians still practise the rite of adoption by a fictitious birth. men who returned home safely after they were believed to be dead had to undergo a similar ceremony.*** bachofen therefore explains the names and myths of the "double-mothered dionysus" as relics of the custom of the _couvade_, and of the legal recognition of children by the father, after a period of kinship through women only. *** tylor, prim. oult., i ; early history of mankind, p. . ** bachofen, das mutterrecht, stuttgart, , p. . *** plutarch, quæst. rom., . this theory is put by lucian in his usual bantering manner. poseidon wishes to enter the chamber of zeus, but is refused admission by hermes. "is zeus _en bonne fortune?_" he asks. "no, the reverse. zeus has just had a baby." "a baby! why there was nothing in his figure...! perhaps the child was born from his head, like athene?" "not at all--his _thigh_; the child is semele's." "wonderful god! what varied accomplishments! but who is semele?" "a theban girl, a daughter of cadmus, much noticed by zeus." "and so he kindly was confined for her?" "exactly!" "so zeus is both father and mother of the child?" "naturally! and now i must go and make him comfortable."* * dial. deor., xi. we need not necessarily accept bachofen's view. this learned author employed indeed a widely comparative method, but he saw everything through certain mystic speculations of his own. it may be deemed, however, that the authors of the myth of the double birth of dionysus were rather in the condition of men who practise the _couvade_ than capable of such vast abstract ideas and such complicated symbolism as are required in the system of preller. it is probable enough that the struggle between the two systems of kindred--maternal and paternal--has left its mark in greek mythology. undeniably it is present in the _eumenides_ of Æschylus, and perhaps it inspires the tales which represent hera and zeus as emulously producing offspring (athene and hephaestus) without the aid of the opposite sex.* in any case, dionysus, semele's son, the patron of the vine, the conqueror of india, is an enigmatic figure of dubious origin, but less repulsive than dionysus zagreus. even among the adventures of zeus the amour which resulted in the birth of dionysus zagreus was conspicuous. "jupiter ipse filiam incestavit, natum hinc zagreum."** persephone, fleeing her hateful lover, took the shape of a serpent, and zeus became the male dragon. the story is on a footing with the brahmanic myth of prajapati and his daughter as buck and doe. the platonists explained the legend, as usual, by their "absurd symbolism ".*** the child of two serpents, zagreus, was born, curious as it may seem, with horns on his head. zeus brought him up in secret, but hera sent the titans to kill him. according to clemens alexandrinus**** and other authorities, the titans won his heart with toys, including the bull-roarer or turn-dun of the australians.**** his enemies, also in australian fashion, daubed themselves over with pipeclay.****** by these hideous foes the child was torn to pieces, though, according to nonnus, he changed himself into as many beasts as proteus by the nile, or tamlane by the ettrick. * roscher's lexikon, p. . ** lobeck, aglaoph., p. , quoting callimachus and euphoric *** ibid., p. . **** admon., p. ; nonnus, xxiv. ; ap. aglaoph., p. . ***** custom and myth, p. . ******cf. demosthenes, pro. or., ; lobeck, pp. , , . in his bull-shape, zagreus was finally chopped up small, cooked (except the heart), and eaten by the titans.* here we are naturally reminded of the dismemberment of osiris, ymir, purusha, chokanipok and so many other gods and beasts in egypt, india, scandinavia and america. this point must not be lost sight of in the controversy as to the origin and date of the story of dionysus zagreus. nothing can be much more repulsive than these hideous incidents to the genius, for example, of homer. he rarely tells anything worse about the gods than the tale of ares' imprisonment in the large bronze pot, an event undignified, indeed, but not in the ferocious taste of the zagreus legend. but it need not, therefore, be decided that the story of dionysus and the titans is later than homer because it is inconsistent with the tone of homeric mythology, and because it is found in more recent authorities. details like the use of the "turn-dun" in the dionysiac mysteries, and the bodies of the celebrants daubed with clay, have a primitive, or at least savage, appearance. it was the opinion of lobeck that the orphic poems, in which the legend first comes into literature, were the work of onomacritus.** on the other hand, müller argued that the myth was really archaic, although it had passed through the hands of onomacritus. on the strength of the boast of the delphian priests that they possessed the grave in which the fragments of the god were buried, müller believed that onomacritus received the story from delphi.*** * proclus in crat., p. . ** aglaoph., p. . "onomacritum architectum istius mythi." *** müller's proleg., english transl., p. . müller writes, "the way in which these orphics went to work with ancient myths can be most distinctly seen in the mythus of the _tearing asunder of bacchus_, which, at all events, passed _through_ the hands of onomacritus, an organiser of dionysian orgies, according to pausanias, an author of orphean poems also, and therefore, in all probability, an orphic". the words of pausanias are (viii. , ), "onomacritus, taking from homer the name of the titans, established dionysiac orgies, and represented the titans as the authors of the sorrows of the god". now it is perhaps impossible to decide with certainty whether, as lobeck held, onomacritus "adapted" the myth, and the delphians received it into their religion, with rites purposely meant to resemble those of osiris in egypt, or whether müller more correctly maintains that onomacritus, on the other hand, brought an old temple mystery and "sacred chapter" into the light of literature. but it may very plausibly be maintained that a myth so wild, and so analogous in its most brutal details to the myths of many widely scattered races, is more probably ancient than a fresh invention of a poet of the sixth century. it is much more likely that greece, whether at delphi or elsewhere, possessed a legend common to races in distant continents, than that onomacritus either invented the tale or borrowed it from egypt and settled it at delphi. o. müller could not appeal to the crowd of tales of divine dismemberment in savage and civilised lands, because with some he was unacquainted, and others (like the sacrifice of purusha, the cutting up of omorca, the rending of ymir) do not seem to have occurred to his memory. though the majority of these legends of divine dismemberment are connected with the making of the world, yet in essentials they do resemble the tale of dionysus and the titans. thus the balance of probability is in favour of the theory that the myth is really old, and was borrowed, not invented, by onoma-critus.* that very shifty person may have made his own alterations in the narrative, but it cannot be rash to say with o. müller, "if it has been supposed that he was the inventor of the entire fable, which pausa-nias by no means asserts, i must confess that i cannot bring myself to think so. according to the notions of the ancients, it must have been an unholy, an accursed man who could, from a mere caprice of his own, represent the ever-young dionysus, the god of joy, as having been torn to pieces by the titans." a reply to this might, no doubt, be sought in the passages describing the influx of new superstitions which are cited by lobeck.** the greek comic poets especially derided these religious novelties, which corresponded very closely to our "esoteric buddhism" and similar impostures. but these new mysteries and trumpery cults of the decayed civilisation were things very different from the worship of dionysus zagreus and his established sacrifices of oxen in the secret penetralia of delphi.*** * lobeck, aglaoph., p. . ** aglaoph., - . *** lycophron, , and the scholiast. it may be determined, therefore, that the tale and the mystery-play of dionysus and the titans are, in essentials, as old as the savage state of religion, in which their analogues abound, whether at delphi they were or were not of foreign origin, and introduced in times comparatively recent. the fables, wherever they are found, are accompanied by savage rites, in which (as in some african tribes when the chief is about to declare war) living animals were torn asunder and eaten raw. these horrors were a kind of representation of the sufferings of the god. o. müller may well observe,* "we can scarcely take these rites to be new usages and the offspring of a post-homeric civilisation". these remarks apply to the custom of _nebrismus_, or tearing fawns to pieces and dancing about draped in the fawn-skins. such rites were part of the bacchic worship, and even broke out during a pagan revival in the time of valens, when dogs were torn in shreds by the worshippers.** whether the antiquity of the zagrean ritual and legend be admitted or not, the problem as to their original significance remains. although the majority of heathen rites of this kind were mystery-plays, setting forth in action some story of divine adventure or misadventure,*** yet lobeck imagines the story of zagreus and the titans to have been invented or adapted from the osiris legend, as an account of the mystic performances themselves. what the myth meant, or what the furious actions of the celebrants intended, it is only possible to conjecture. * lycophrony p. . ** theodoretus, ap. lobeck, p. . observe the number of examples of daubing with clay in the mysteries here adduced by lobeck, and compare the mandan tribes described by catlin in o-kee-pa, londou, , and by theal in kaffir folk-lore. *** lactantius, v. , ; ovid, fasti, iv. . commonly it is alleged that the sufferings of dionysus are the ruin of the summer year at the hands of storm and winter, while the revival of the child typifies the vernal resurrection; or, again, the slain dionysus is the vintage. the old english song tells how "john barleycorn must die," and how potently he came back to life and mastered his oppressors. this notion, too, may be at the root of "the passion of dionysus," for the grapes suffer at least as many processes of torture as john barleycorn before they declare themselves in the shape of strong drink.* while preller talks about the _tiefste erd-und naturschmerz_ typified in the zagrean ritual, lobeck remarks that plato would be surprised if he could hear these "drunken men's freaks" decoratively described as _ein erhabene naturdienst_. * decharme, mythologie de la grece, p. , compare preller, i. on tiefste naturschmerz, and so forth. lobeck looks on the wild acts, the tearing of fawns and dogs, the half-naked dances, the gnawing of raw bleeding flesh, as the natural expression of fierce untutored folk, revelling in freedom, leaping and shouting. but the odd thing is that the most civilised of peoples should so long have retained the manners of _ingenia inculta et indomita_. whatever the original significance of the dionysiac revels, that significance was certainly expressed in a ferocious and barbaric fashion, more worthy of australians than athenians. on this view of the case it might perhaps be maintained that the germ of the myth is merely the sacrifice itself, the barbaric and cruel dismembering of an animal victim, which came to be identified with the god. the sufferings of the victim would thus finally be transmuted into a legend about the passion of the deity. the old greek explanation that the ritual was designed "in imitation of what befel the god" would need to be reversed. the truth would be that the myth of what befel the god was borrowed from the actual torture of the victim with which the god was identified examples of this mystic habit of mind, in which the slain beast, the god, and even the officiating celebrant were confused in thought with each other, are sufficiently common in ritual.* * as to the torch-dances of the maenads, compare roscher, lexikon, p. , and mannhardt wald und feki kultits, i. , for parallels in european folk-lore. the sacrifices in the ritual of dionysus have a very marked character and here more, commonly than in other hellenic cults, the god and the victim are recognised as essentially the same. the sacrifice, in fact, is a sacrament, and in partaking of the victim the communicants eat their god. this detail is so prominent that it has not escaped the notice even of mythologists who prefer to take an ideal view of myths and customs, to regard them as symbols in a nature-worship originally pure. thus m. decharme says of the bull-feast in the dionysiac cult, "comme le taureau est un des formes de dionysos, c'etait le corps du dieu dont se repaissaient les inities, c'etait son sang dont ils s'abreuvaient dans ce banquet mystique". now it was the peculiarity of the bac-chici who maintained these rites, that, as a rule, they abstained from the flesh of animals altogether, or at least their conduct took this shape when adopted into the orphic discipline.* this ritual, therefore, has points in common with the usages which appear also to have survived into the cult of the ram-god in egypt.** the conclusion suggested is that where dionysus was adored with this sacrament of bull's flesh, he had either been developed out of, or had succeeded to, the worship of a bull-totem, and had inherited his characteristic ritual. mr. frazer, however, proposes quite a different solution.*** ours is rendered plausible by the famous elean chant in which the god was thus addressed: "come, hero dionysus, come with the graces to thy holy house by the shores of the sea; hasten with thy bull-foot". then the chorus repeated, "goodly bull, goodly bull".**** m. decharme publishes a cameo***** in which the god is represented as a bull, with the three graces standing on his neck, and seven stars in the field. m. decharme decides that the stars are the pleiades, the graces the rays of the vernal sun, and dionysus as a bull the symbol of the vernal sun itself. but all such symbolical explanations are apt to be mere private conjectures, and they are of no avail in face of the ritual which, on the other hypothesis, is to be expected, and is actually found, in connection with the bull dionysus. where dionysus is not absolutely called a bull, he is addressed as the "horned deity," the "bull-horned," the "horned child".****** * lobeck, aglaoph., i ; plato, laws, vi. ; herodot, ii. . porphyry says that this also was the rule of pythagoras (vita pyth., , p. ). ** herodot., ii. . *** golden bough, vol. ii. **** plutarch, qu. or., d. ***** op. cit., p. . ****** clemens alex., adhort, ii. - ; nonnus, vi. ; diodorus, iv. . . . a still more curious incident of the dionysiac worship was the sacrifice of a booted calf, a calf with cothurns on its feet.* the people of tenedos, says Ælian, used to tend their goodliest cow with great care, to treat it, when it calved, like a woman in labour, to put the calf in boots and sacrifice it, and then to stone the sacrificer and drive him into the sea to expiate his crime. in this ceremony, as in the diipolia at athens, the slain bull is, as it were, a member of the blood-kindred of the man who immolates him, and who has to expiate the deed as if it were a murder.** in this connection it is worth remarking that dionysus zagreus, when, according to the myth, he was attacked by the titans, tried to escape his enemies by assuming various forms. it was in the guise of a bull that he was finally captured and rent asunder. the custom of rending the living victims of his cult was carried so far that, when pentheus disturbed his mysteries, the king was torn piecemeal by the women of his own family.*** the pious acquiescence of the author of the so-called theocritean idyll in this butchery is a curious example of the conservatism of religious sentiment. the connection of dionysus with the bull in particular is attested by various ritual epithets, such as "the bull," "bull-born,"**** "bull-horned," and "bull-browed".***** he was also worshipped with sacrifice of he-goats; according to the popular explanation, because the goat gnaws the vine, and therefore is odious to the god. * Ælian., h. a.t xii. . ** o. müller, proleg., engl, transl., , attributes the tenedos dionysus rites to "the beotic achsean emigrants". gf, aglaoph., - . *** theocritus, idyll, xxvi. **** pollux, iv. . ***** athenaus, xi. , a. the truth is, that animals, as the old commentator on virgil remarks, were sacrificed to the various gods, "_aut per similitudinem aut per contrarietatem_" either because there was a community of nature between the deity and the beast, or because the beast had once been sacred in a hostile clan or tribe.* the god derived some of his ritual names from the goat as well as from the bull according to one myth, dionysus was changed into a kid by zeus, to enable him to escape the jealousy of hera.** "it is a peculiarity," says voigt, "of the dionysus ritual that the god is one of his offering." but though the identity of the god and the victim is manifest, the phenomenon is too common in religion to be called peculiar.*** plutarch**** especially mentions that "many of the greeks make statues of dionysus in the form of a bull". dionysus was not only an animal-god, or a god who absorbed in his rights and titles various elder forms of beast-worship. trees also stood in the same relation to him. as _dendrites_, he is, like artemis, a tree-god, and probably succeeded to the cult of certain sacred trees; just as, for example, st. bridget, in ireland, succeeded to the cult of the fire-goddess and to her ceremonial.***** * cf. roscher, lexikon, p. ; robertson smith on "sacrifice," encyc. brit. ** appolodorus, iii. , . *** "dionysos selber. stier zicklein ist, und als zagreus- kind selber, den opfertod erleidet." ap. roscher, p. . **** de is. et os. ***** elton, origins of english history, p. , and the authorities there quoted. dionysus was even called "the god in the tree,"* reminding us of artemis dendritis, and of the village gods which in india dwell in the peepul or the bo tree.** thus pausanias*** tells us that, when pentheus went to spy on the dionysiac mysteries, the women found him hidden in a tree, and there and then tore him piecemeal. according to a corinthian legend, the delphic oracle bade them seek this tree and worship it with no less honour than the god (dionysus) himself. hence the wooden images of dionysus were made of that tree, the fig tree, _non ex quovis ligno_, and the god had a ritual name, "the fig-tree dionysus". in the idols the community of nature between the god and the fig tree was expressed and commemorated. an unhewn stump of wood was the dionysus idol of the rustic people.**** * hesychius. ** cf. roscher, p. . *** ii. , . **** max. tyr., , . certain antique elements in the dionysus cult have now been sketched; we have seen the god in singularly close relations with animal and plant worship, and have noted the very archaic character of certain features in his mysteries. doubtless these things are older than the bright anthropomorphic dionysus of the poets--the beautiful young deity, vine-crowned, who rises from the sea to comfort ariadne in tintoretto's immortal picture. at his highest, at his best, dionysus is the spirit not only of bacchic revel and of dramatic poetry, but of youth, health and gaiety. even in this form he retains something tricksy and enigmatic, the survival perhaps of earlier ideas; or, again, it may be the result of a more or less conscious symbolism. the god of the vine and of the juice of the vine maketh glad the heart of man; but he also inspires the kind of metamorphosis which the popular speech alludes to when a person is said to be "disguised in drink". for this reason, perhaps, he is now represented in art as a grave and bearded man, now as a manly youth, and again as an effeminate lad of girlish loveliness. the bearded type of the god is apparently the earlier; the girlish type may possibly be the result merely of decadent art, and its tendency to a sexless or bisexual prettiness.* turning from the ritual and local cults of the god, which, as has been shown, probably retain the earlier elements in his composite nature, and looking at his legend in the national literature of greece, we find little that throws any light on the origin and primal conception of his character in the _iliad_ dionysus is not one of the great gods whose politics sways olympus, and whose diplomatic or martial interference is exercised in the leaguer of the achæans or in the citadel of ilios. the longest passage in which he is mentioned is _iliad_, vi. , a passage which clearly enough declares that the worship of dionysus, or at least that certain of his rites were brought in from without, and that his worshippers endured persecution. diomedes, encountering glaucus in battle, refuses to fight him if he is a god in disguise. "nay, moreover, even dryas' son, mighty lykourgos, was not for long when he strove with heavenly gods; he that erst chased through the goodly land of nysa the nursing mothers of frenzied dionysus; and they all cast their wands upon the ground, smitten with murderous lykourgos' ox-goad. then dionysus fled, and plunged beneath the salt sea-wave, and thetis took him to her bosom, affrighted, for mighty trembling had seized him at his foe's rebuke. but with lykourgos the gods that live at ease were wroth, and kronos's son made him blind, and he was not for long, because he was hated of all the immortal gods." * see thræmer, in roscher, pp. - . though dionysus is not directly spoken of as the wine-god here, yet the gear of his attendants, and his own title, "the frenzied," seem to identify him with the deity of orgiastic frenzy. as to nysa, volumes might be written to little or no purpose on the learning connected with this obscure place-name, so popular in the legend of dionysus. it has been identified as a mountain in thrace, in boeotia, in arabia, india, libya and naxos, as a town in caria or the caucasus, and as an island in the nile. the flight of dionysus into the sea may possibly recall the similar flight of agni in indian myth. the _odyssey_ only mentions dionysus in connection with ariadne, whom artemis is said to have slain "by reason of the witness of dionysus,"** and where the great golden urn of thetis is said to have been a present from the god. the famous and beautiful hymn proves, as indeed may be learned from hesiod,*** that the god was already looked on as the patron of the vine. * xi. . ** xxiv. . *** works and days, . when the pirates had seized the beautiful young man with the dark-blue eyes, and had bound him in their ship, he "showed marvels among them," changed into the shape of a bear, and turned his captors into dolphins, while wine welled up from the timbers of the vessel, and vines and ivy trees wreathed themselves on the mast and about the rigging. leaving aside the orphic poems, which contain most of the facts in the legend of dionysus zagreus, the _bacchæ_ of euripides is the chief classical record of ideas about the god. dionysus was the patron of the drama, which itself was an artistic development of the old rural songs and dances of his athenian festival. in the _bacchæ_, then, euripides had to honour the very patron of his art. it must be said that his praise is but half-hearted. a certain ironical spirit, breaking out here and there (as when old cadmus dances, and shakes a grey head and a stiff knee) into actual burlesque, pervades the play. tradition and myth doubtless retained some historical truth when they averred that the orgies of the god had been accepted with reluctance into state religion. the tales about lycurgus and pentheus, who persecuted the bacchæ in thebes, and was dismembered by his own mother in a divine madness, are survivals of this old distrust of dionysus. it was impossible for euripides, a sceptic, even in a sceptical age, to approve sincerely of the god whom he was obliged to celebrate. he falls back on queer etymological explanations of the birth of dionysus from the thigh of zeus. this myth, as cadmus very learnedly sets forth, was the result of forgetfulness of the meaning of words, was born of a _volks-etymologie_. zeus gave a hostage to hera, says cadmus, and in "process of time" (a very short time) men forgot what they meant when they said this, and supposed that dionysus had been sewnup in the thigh of his father.* the explanation is absurd, but it shows how euripides could transfer the doubt and distrust of his own age, and its attempt at a philological interpretation of myth, to the remote heroic tunes. throughout the play the character and conduct of the god, and his hideous revenge on the people who reject his wild and cruel rites, can only be justified because they are articles of faith. the chorus may sing--"ah! blessed he who dwelleth in happiness, expert in the rites of the gods, and so hallows his life, fulfilling his soul with the spirit of dionysus, revelling on the hills with charms of holy purity ".** this was the interpretation which the religious mind thrust upon rites which in themselves were so barbarously obscene that they were feigned to have been brought by dionysus from the barbaric east,*** and to be the invention of rhea, an alien and orgiastic goddess.**** the bull-horned, snake-wreathed god,***** the god who, when bound, turns into a bull ( ); who manifests himself as a bull to pentheus ( ), and is implored by the chorus to appear "as bull, or burning lion, or many-headed snake" ( - ), this god is the ancient barbarous deity of myth, in manifest contrast with the artistic greek conception of him as "a youth with clusters of golden hair, and in his dark eyes the grace of aphrodite" ( , ). * bacchæ, , . ** ibid., , . *** ibid., - . **** ibid., i. . ***** ibid., , . the _bacchæ_, then, expresses the sentiments of a moment which must often have occurred in greek religion. the greek reverence accepts, hallows and adorns an older faith, which it feels to be repugnant and even alien, but none the less recognises as human and inevitable. from modern human nature the ancient orgiastic impulse of savage revelry has almost died away. in greece it was dying, but before it expired it sanctified and perpetuated itself by assuming a religious form, by draping its naked limbs in the fawn-skin or the bull-skin of dionysus. in precisely the same spirit christianity, among the negroes of the southern states, has been constrained to throw its mantle over what the race cannot discard. the orgies have become camp-meetings; the voodoo-dance is consecrated as the "jerusalem jump". in england the primitive impulse is but occasionally recognised at "revivals". this orgiastic impulse, the impulse of australian corroboree and cherokee fetish-dances, and of the "dancing dervishes" themselves, occasionally seizes girls in modern greece. they dance themselves to death on the hills, and are said by the peasants to be victims of the nereids. in the old classic world they would have been saluted as the nurses and companions of dionysus, and their disease would have been hallowed by religion. of that religion the "bull-horned," "bull-eating," "cannibal" dionysus was the deity; and he was refined away into the youth with yellow-clustered curls, and sleepy eyes, and smiling lips, the girlish youth of the art of praxiteles. so we see him in surviving statues, and seeing him, forget his ghastly rites, and his succession to the rites of goats, and deer, and bulls. athene. among deities for whom an origin has been sought in the personification of elemental phenomena, athene is remarkable. perhaps no divine figure has caused more diverse speculations. the study of her legend is rather valuable for the varieties of opinion which it illustrates than for any real contribution to actual knowledge which it supplies. we can discover little, if anything, about the rise and development of the conception of athene. her local myths and local _sacra_ seem, on the whole, less barbaric than those of many other olympians. but in comparing the conjectures of the learned, one lesson comes out with astonishing clearness. it is most perilous, as this comparison demonstrates, to guess at an origin of any god in natural phenomena, and then to explain the details of the god's legend with exclusive reference to that fancied elemental origin. as usual, the oldest literary references to athene are found in the _iliad_ and _odyssey_. it were superfluous to collect and compare texts so numerous and so familiar. athene appears in the _iliad_ as a martial maiden, daughter of zeus, and, apparently, of zeus alone without female mate.* * iliad, v. , . this is stated explicitly in the homeric hymn to apollo, where athene is said to have been born from the head of zeus (pindar, olympic odes, vii.). she is the patron of valour and the inspirer of counsel; she arrests the hand of achilles when his sword is half drawn from the sheath in his quarrel with agamemnon; she is the constant companion and protector of odysseus; and though she is worshipped in the citadel of troy, she is constant to the cause of the achæans. occasionally it is recorded of her that she assumed the shape of various birds; a sea-bird and a swallow are among her metamorphoses; and she could put on the form of any man she pleased; for example, of deiphobus.* it has often been observed that among the lower races the gods habitually appear in the form of animals. "entre ces facultes qui possedent les immortels, l'une des plus frappantes est celle de se metamorphoser, de prendre des apparences non seulement animales, mais encore de se transformer en objets inanimes."** of this faculty, inherited from the savage stage of thought, athene has her due share even in homer. but in almost every other respect she is free from the heritage of barbarism, and might very well be regarded as the ideal representative of wisdom, valour and manfulness in man, of purity, courage and nobility in woman, as in the phæacian maid nausicæ. * _iliad_, xxii. , xvii. , od. iii. . v. ; _iliad_, vii. . ** maury, _religion de la grece_, i. . in hesiod, as has already been shown, the myth of the birth of athene retains the old barbaric stamp. it is the peculiarity of the hesiodic poems to preserve the very features of religious narrative which homer disregards. according to hesiod, zeus, the youngest child of child-swallowing cronus, married metis after he had conquered and expelled his father. now metis, like other gods and goddesses, had the power of transforming herself into any shape she pleased. her husband learned that her child--for she was pregnant--would be greater than its father, as in the case of the child of thetis. zeus, therefore, persuaded metis to transform herself into a fly. no sooner was the metamorphosis complete than he swallowed the fly, and himself produced the child of metis out of his head.* the later philosophers explained this myth** by a variety of metaphysical interpretations, in which the god is said to contain the all in himself, and again to reproduce it. any such ideas must have been alien to the inventors of a tale which, as we have shown, possesses many counterparts among the lowest and least platonic races.*** c. o. müller remarks plausibly that "the figure of the swallowing is employed in imitation of still older legends," such as those of africa and australia. this leaves him free to imagine a philosophic explanation of the myth based on the word metis.**** we may agree with müller that the "swallow-myth" is extremely archaic in character, as it is so common among the backward races. as to the precise amount, however, of philosophic reflection and allegory which was present to the cosmogonic poet's mind when he used metis as the name of the being who could become a fly, and so be swallowed by her husband, it is impossible to speak with confidence. very probably the poet meant to read a moral and speculative meaning into a barbaric _märchen_ surviving in religious tradition. to the birth of athene from her father's head savage parallels are not lacking. in the legends of the south pacific, especially of mangaia, tangaroa is fabled to have been born from the head of papa.***** * hesiod, theog., , and the scholiast ** lobeck, i. , note . *** see the cronus myth. **** proleg. engl. transl., p. . ***** gill, myths and songs, p. . in the _vafthrudismal_ ( ) a maid and a man-child are born from under the armpits of a primeval gigantic being. the remarks of lucian on miraculous birth have already been quoted.* with this mythical birth for a starting-point, and relying on their private interpretations of the _cognomina_ of the goddess, of her _sacra_, and of her actions in other parts of her legend, the modern mythologists have built up their various theories. athene is now the personification of wisdom, now the dawn, now the air or aether, now the lightning as it leaps from the thunder-cloud; and if she has not been recognised as the moon, it is not for lack of opportunity.** these explanations rest on the habit of twisting each detail of a divine legend into conformity with aspects of certain natural and elemental forces, or they rely on etymological conjecture. for example, welcker*** maintains that athene is "a feminine personification of the upper air, daughter of zeus, the dweller in æther". her name tritogenia is derived**** from an ancient word for water, which, like fire, has its source in æther.***** welcker presses the title of the goddess, "glaucopis," the "grey-green-eyed," into the service. the heaven in attica _oft ebenfalls wunderbar grun ist_.****** * cf. dionysus. ** welcker, i. . *** griechische gotterlehre, gottingen, , i. . **** op. cit., . ***** the ancients themselves were in doubt whether trito were the name of a river or mere, or whether the cretan for the head was intended. see odyssey, butcher and lang, note , p. . ****** op. cit., i. . moreover, there was a temple at methone of athene of the winds (anemotis), which would be a better argument had there not been also temples of athene of the pathway, athene of the ivy, athene of the crag, athene of the market-place, athene of the trumpet, and so forth. moreover, the olive tree is one of the sacred plants of athene. now why should this be? clearly, thinks welcker, because olive-oil gives light from a lamp, and light also comes from æther.* athene also gives telemachus a fair wind in the _odyssey_, and though any lapland witch could do as much, this goes down to her account as a goddess of the air.** * op. cit. i. . ** mr. ruskin's _queen qf the air_ is full of similar ingenuities. leaving welcker, who has many equally plausible proofs to give, and turning to mr. max müller, we learn that athene was the dawn. this theory is founded on the belief that athene = ahana, which mr. max müller regards as a sanskrit word for dawn. "phonetically there is not one word to be said against, ahana = athene, and that the morning light offers the best starting-point for the later growth of athene has been proved, i believe, beyond the reach of doubt, or even of cavil." mr. müller adds that "nothing really important could be brought forward against my equation ahana = athene". it is no part of our province here to decide between the conjectures of rival etymologists, nor to pronounce on their relative merits. but the world cannot be expected to be convinced by philological scholars before they have convinced each other. mr. max müller had not convinced benfey, who offered another etymology of athene, as the feminine of the zend _thrætana athwyana_, an etymology of which mr. müller remarks that "whoever will take the trouble to examine its phonetic foundation will be obliged in common honesty to confess that it is untenable".* meanwhile curtius** is neither for ahana and sanskrit and mr. max müller, nor for benfey and zend. he derives athene from the root _aio_, whence perhaps comes athene, the blooming one" = the maiden. preller, again,*** finds the source of the name athene in _aio_, whence _aion_, "the air," or a flower". he does not regard these etymologies as certain, though he agrees with welcker that athene is the clear height of æther. manifestly no one can be expected to accept as matter of faith an etymological solution which is rejected by philologists. the more fashionable theory for the moment is that maintained some time since by lauer and schwartz, and now by furtwangler in roscher's lexikon, that athene is the "cloud-goddess," or the goddess of the lightning as it springs from the clouds.**** as the lightning in mythology is often a serpent, and as athene had her sacred serpent, "which might be erichthonios,"***** * _nineteenth century_, october, , pp. , . ** gr. et., engl, transl., i. . *** preller, i. . **** cf. lauer, _system der oriesch. myth_., berlin, , p. ; schwartz _ursprung der mythol_, berlin, , p. . ***** paus., xxiv. . schwartz conjectures that the serpent is the lightning and athene the cloud. a long list of equally cogent reasons for identifying athene with the lightning and the thunder-cloud has been compiled by furtwangler, and deserves some attention. the passage excellently illustrates the error of taking poetic details in authors as late as pindar for survivals of the absolute original form of an elemental myth. furtwangler finds the proof of his opinion that athene is originally the goddess of the thunder-cloud and the lightning that leaps from it in the olympic ode.* "by hephaistos' handicraft beneath the bronze-wrought axe from the crown of her father's head athene leapt to light, and cried aloud an exceeding cry, and heaven trembled at her coming, and earth, the mother." the "cry" she gave is the thunderpeal; the spear she carried is the lightning; the ægis or goat-skin she wore is the cloud again, though the cloud has just been the head of zeus.** another proof of athene's connection with storm is the miracle she works when she sets a flame to fly from the head of diomede or of achilles,*** or fleets from the sky like a meteor.**** her possession, on certain coins, of the thunderbolts of zeus is another argument. again, as the trumpet-athene she is connected with the thunder-peal, though it seems more rational to account for her supposed invention of a military instrument by the mere fact that she is a warlike goddess. but furtwangler explains her martial attributes as those of a thunder-goddess, while preller finds it just as easy to explain her moral character as goddess of wisdom by her elemental character as goddess, not at all of the cloud, but of the clear sky.***** * ode, vii. , myers. ** cf. schwartz. ursprung, etc., pp. , . *** iliad, v. , , . **** ibid, iv. . ***** preller, i. . "lastly, as goddess of the heavenly clearness, she is also goddess of spiritual clearness." again, "as goddess of the cloudless heaven, she is also goddess of health",* there could be no more instructive examples of the levity of conjecture than these, in which two scholars interpret a myth with equal ease and freedom, though they start from diametrically opposite conceptions. let athene be lightning and cloud, and all is plain to furtwangler. let athene be cloudless sky, and preller finds no difficulties. athene as the goddess of woman's work as well as of man's, athene ergane, becomes clear to furtwangler as he thinks of the _fleecy_ clouds. probably the storm-goddess, when she is not thundering, is regarded as weaving the fleeces of the upper air. hence the myth that arachne was once a woman, changed by athene into a spider because she contended with her in spinning.** * preller, i. . ** ovid, metamorph., vi. - . the metamorphosis of arachne is merely one of the half-playful aetiological myths of which we have seen examples all over the world. the spider, like the swallow, the nightingale, the dolphin, the frog, was once a human being, metamorphosed by an angry deity. as preller makes athene goddess of wisdom because she is goddess of clearness in the sky, so furtwangler derives her intellectual attributes from her skill in weaving clouds. it is tedious and unprofitable to examine these and similar exercises of facile ingenuity. there is no proof that athene was ever a nature-goddess at all, and if she was, there is nothing to show what was her department of nature. when we meet her in homer, she is patroness of moral and physical excellence in man and woman. manly virtue she typifies in her martial aspect, the armed and warlike maid of zeus; womanly excellence she protects in her capacity of _ergane_, the toiler. she is the companion and guardian of perseus no less than of odysseus.* the sacred animals of athene were the owl, the snake (which accompanies her effigy in athens, and is a form of her foster-child erechtheus), the cock,** and the crow.*** probably she had some connection with the goat, which might not be sacrificed in her fane on the acropolis, where she was settled by Ægeus ("goat-man "?). she wears the goat-skin, _ægis_, in art, but this is usually regarded as another type of the storm-cloud.**** * pindar, olymp., x. ad jin. ** paus., vi. . *** ibid., iv. , . **** roscher, in his lexikon, s.v. ægis, with his arguments there. compare, on this subject of athene as the goddess of a goat-stock. robertson smith on "sacrifice" in the encycl. brit. aphrodite. athene's maiden character is stainless in story, despite the brutal love of hephaestus. this characteristic perhaps is another proof that she neither was in her origin nor became in men's minds one of the amorous deities of natural phenomena. in any case, it is well to maintain a sceptical attitude towards explanations of her myth, which only agree in the determination to make athene a "nature power" at all costs, and which differ destructively from each other as to whether she was dawn, storm, or clear heaven. where opinions are so radically divided and so slenderly supported, suspension of belief is natural and necessary. no polytheism is likely to be without a goddess of love, and love is the chief, if not the original, department of aphrodite in the greek olympus. in the _iliad_ and _odyssey_ and the homeric hymn she is already the queen of desire, with the beauty and the softness of the laughter-loving dame. her cestus or girdle holds all the magic of passion, and is borrowed even by hera when she wishes to win her fickle lord. she disturbs the society of the gods by her famous amours with ares, deceiving her husband, hephaestus, the lord of fire; and she even stoops to the embraces of mortals, as of anchises. in the homeric poems the charm of "golden aphrodite" does not prevent the singer from hinting a quiet contempt for her softness and luxury. but in this oldest greek literature the goddess is already thoroughly greek, nor did later ages make any essential changes in her character. concerning her birth homer and hesiod are not in the same tale; for while homer makes her a daughter of zeus, hesiod prefers, as usual, the more repulsive, and probably older story, which tells how she sprang from the sea-foam and the mutilated portions of cronus.* * iliad, v. ; theog., - . but even in the hesiodic myth it is remarkable that the foam-born goddess first landed at cythera, or again "was born in wave-washed cyprus". her ancient names--the cyprian and the cytherean--with her favoured seats in paphos, idalia and the phoenician settlement of eryx in sicily, combine with historical traditions to show that the greek aphrodite was, to some extent, of oriental character and origin. it is probable, or rather certain, that even without foreign influence the polytheism of greece must have developed a deity of love, as did the mexican and scandinavian polytheisms. but it is equally certain that portions of the worship and elements in the myth of aphrodite are derived from the ritual and the legends of the oriental queen of heaven, adored from old babylon to cyprus and on many other coasts and isles of the grecian seas. the greeks themselves recognised asiatic influence. pausanias speaks of the temple of heavenly aphrodite in cythera as the holiest and most ancient of all her shrines among the hellenes.* herodotus, again, calls the fane of the goddess in askalon of the philistines "the oldest of all, and the place whence her worship travelled to cyprus," as the cyprians say, and the phoenicians planted it in cythera, being themselves emigrants from syria. the semitic element in this greek goddess and her cult first demand attention. among the semitic races with whose goddess of love aphrodite was thus connected the deity had many names. she was regarded as at once the patroness of the moon, and of fertility in plants beasts, and women. among the phoenicians her title is astarte among the assyrians she was istar; among the syrians, aschera; in babylon, mylitta.** common practices in the ritual of the eastern and western goddesses were the licence of the temple-girls, the sacrifices of animals supposed to be peculiarly amorous (sparrows, doves, he-goats), and, above all, the festivals and fasts for adonis. * paus., hi. , . ** so roscher, ausfuhr. lexik., pp. , . see also astarte, p. . there can scarcely be a doubt that adonis--the young hunter beloved by aphrodite, slain by the boar, and mourned by his mistress--is a symbol of the young season, the _renouveau_, and of the spring vegetation, ruined by the extreme heats, and passing the rest of the year in the underworld. adonis was already known to hesiod, who called him, with obvious meaning, the son of _phoenix_ and alphesiboea, while pausanias attributed to him, with equal significance, assyrian descent.* the name of adonis is manifestly a form of the phoenician adon, "lord". the nature of his worship among the greeks is most familiar from the fifteenth idyll of theocritus, with its lively picture of dead adonis lying in state, of the wailing for him by aphrodite, of the little "gardens" of quickly-growing flowers which personified him, and with the beautiful nuptial hymn for his resurrection and reunion to aphrodite. similar rites were customary at athens.** mannhardt gives the main points in the ritual of the adonis-feast thus: the fresh vegetation is personified as a fair young man, who in ritual is represented by a kind of idol, and also by the plants of the "adonis-gardens". the youth comes in spring, the bridegroom to the bride, the vernal year is their honeymoon. in the heat of summer the bridegroom perishes for the nonce, and passes the winter in the land of the dead. his burial is bewailed, his resurrection is rejoiced in. the occasions of the rite are spring and midsummer. the idol and the plants are finally cast into the sea, or into well-water. * apollod., _bibliothec_, iii. , . ** aristoph., _lysistrata_, ; mannhardt, _feld und wold kultus_, ii. . the union of the divine lovers is represented by pairing of men and maidens in bonds of a kindly sentimental sort,--the flowery bonds of valentines. the oriental influence in all these rites has now been recognised; it is perfectly attested both by the phoenican settlements, whence aphrodite-worship spread, and by the very name of her lover, the spring. but all this may probably be regarded as little more than the semitic colouring of a ritual and a belief which exist among indo-european peoples, quite apart from phoenican influence. mannhardt traces the various points in the aphrodite cult already enumerated through the folk-lore of the german peasants. the young lover, the spring, is the maikonig or laubmann; his effigy is a clothed and crowned idol or puppet, or the maibaum. the figure is thrown into the water and bewailed in russia, or buried or burned with lamentations.* he is wakened and kissed by a maiden, who acts as the bride.** finally, we have the "may-pairs," a kind of valentines united in a nominal troth. * i. ; ii. . ** i . the probable conclusion seems to be that the adonis ritual expresses certain natural human ways of regarding the vernal year. it is not unlikely that the ancestors of the greeks possessed these forms of folk-lore previous to their contact with the semitic races, and their borrowing of the very marked semitic features in the festivals. for the rest, the concern of aphrodite with the passion of love in men and with general productiveness in nature is a commonplace of greek literature. it would be waste of space to recount the numerous and familiar fables in which she inspires a happy or an ill-fated affection in gods or mortals. like most other mythical figures, aphrodite has been recognised by mr. max müller as the dawn; but the suggestion has not been generally accepted.* if aphrodite retains any traces of an elemental origin, they show chiefly in that part of her legend which is peculiarly semitic in colour. for the rest, though she, like hermes, gives good luck in general, she is a recognised personification of passion and the queen of love. * roscher, lexikon, p. . hermes. another child of zeus whose elemental origin and character have been much debated is hermes. the meaning of the name** is confessedly obscure. opinion, then, is divided about the elemental origin of hermes and the meaning of his name. his character must be sought, as usual, in ancient poetic myth and in ritual and religion. herodotus recognised his rites as extremely old, for that is the meaning of his remark*** that the athenians borrowed them from the pelasgians, who are generally recognised as prehistoric greeks. ** preller, i. . the name of hermes is connected by welcker (griesch. got., i. ) with (-----), and he gives other examples of the Æolic use of o for e. compare curtius's greek etymology, english translation, , vol. i. p. . mr. max müller, on the other hand (lectures, ii. ), takes hermes to be the son of the dawn. curtius reserves his opinion. mr. max müller recognises saramejas and hermes as deities of twilight. preller (i. ) takes him for a god of dark and gloaming. *** herod., ii. . in the rites spoken of, the images of the god were in one notable point like well-known bushmen and admiralty island divine representations, and like those of priapus.* in cyllene, where hermes was a great resident god, artemidorus** saw a representation of hermes which was merely a large phallus, and pausanias beheld the same sacred object, which was adored with peculiar reverence.*** such was hermes in the elean region, whence he derived his name, cyllenian.**** he was a god of "the liberal shepherds," conceived of in the rudest aspect, perhaps as the patron of fruitfulness in their flocks. manifestly he was most unlike the graceful swift messenger of the gods, and guide of the ghosts of men outworn, the giver of good fortune, the lord of the crowded market-place, the teacher of eloquence and of poetry, who appears in the literary mythology of greece. nor is there much in his pelasgian or his cyllenian form to suggest the elemental deity either of gloaming, or of twilight, or of the storm.***** * can the obscene story of cicero (de nat. deor., iii. , ) be a repetition of the sacred chapter by which herodotus says the pelasgians explained the attribute of the image? ** artem., i. . *** paus., vi. , . **** homeric hymns, iii. . ***** but see welcker, i. , for connection between his name and his pastoral functions. but whether the pastoral hermes of the pelasgians was refined into the messenger-god of homer, or whether the name and honours of that god were given to the rude priapean patron of the shepherds by way of bringing him into the olympic circle, it seems impossible to ascertain. these combinations lie far behind the ages of greece known to us in poetry and history. the province of the god as a deity of flocks is thought to be attested by his favourite companion animal the ram, which often stood beside him in works of art.* in one case, where he is represented with a ram on his shoulder, the legend explained that by carrying a ram round the walls he saved the city of tanagra from a pestilence.** the arcadians also represented him carrying a ram under his arm.*** as to the phallic hermæ, it is only certain that the athenian taste agreed with that of the admiralty islanders in selecting such unseemly images to stand beside every door. but the connection of hermes with music (he was the inventor of the lyre, as the homeric hymn sets forth) may be explained by the musical and poetical character of old greek shepherd life. if we could set aside the various elemental theories of hermes as the storm-wind, the twilight, the child of dawn, and the rest, it would not be difficult to show that one moral conception is common to his character in many of its varied aspects. he is the god of luck, of prosperity, of success, of fortunate adventure. this department of his activity is already recognised in homer. he is giver of good luck.**** he is "hermes, who giveth grace and glory to all the works of men". hence comes his homeric name, the luck-bringer. the last cup at a feast is drunk to his honour "for luck". * pausanias, ii. , . ** for hermes, god of herds and flocks, see preller, i. - . *** pausanias, v. , . **** iliad, xiv. ; od. , . where we cry "shares!" in a lucky find, the greek cried "hermes in common!" a godsend was (------). thus among rough shepherd folk the luck-bringing god displayed his activity chiefly in making fruitful the flocks, but among city people he presided over the mart and the public assembly, where he gave good fortune, and over musical contests.* it is as the lucky god that hermes holds his "fair wand of wealth and riches, three-leafed and golden, which wardeth off all evil"** hermes has thus, among his varied departments, none better marked out than the department of luck, a very wide and important province in early thought. but while he stands in this relation to men, to the gods he is the herald and messenger, and, in some undignified myths, even the pander and accomplice. in the homeric hymn this child of zeus and maia shows his versatile character by stealing the oxen of apollo, and fashioning the lyre on the day of his birth. the theft is sometimes explained as a solar myth; the twilight steals the bright days of the sun-god. but he could only steal them day by day, whereas hermes lifts the cattle in an hour.*** the surname of hermes, is usually connected with the slaying of argus, a supernatural being with many eyes, set by hera to watch io, the mistress of zeus.**** * see also preller, i. , note . ** hymn, . see custom and myth, "the divining rod ". *** preller, i. , note ; welcker, gr. got, i. , and note . **** Æsch., prom. vinct, . hermes lulled the creature to sleep with his music and cut off his head. this myth yields a very natural explanation if hermes be the twilight of dawn, and if argus be the many-eyed midnight heaven of stars watching io, the moon. if hermes be the storm-wind, it seems just as easy to say that he kills argus by driving a cloud over the face of heaven. in his capacity as the swift-winged messenger, who, in the _odyssey_, crosses the great gulf of the sea, and scarce brushes the brine with his feathers, hermes might be explained, by any one so minded, either as lightning or wind. neither hypothesis suits very well with his duties as guide of the ghosts, whom he leads down darkling ways with his wand of gold.* in this capacity he and the ghosts were honoured at the athenian all-souls' day, in february.** such are the chief mythic aspects of hermes. he has many functions; common to all of them is the power of bringing all to a happy end. this resemblance to twilight, "which bringeth all things good," as sappho sang, may be welcome to interpreters who see in hermes a personification of twilight. how ingeniously, and even beautifully, this crepuscular theory can be worked out, and made to explain all the activities of hermes, may be read in an essay of paul de st. victor.*** what is the dawn? the passage from night to day. hermes therefore is the god of all such fleet transitions, blendings, changes. the messenger of the gods, he flits before them, a heavenly ambassador to mortals. two light wings quiver on his rounded cap, _the vault of heaven in little_.... * odyssey, xxiv. - . ** preller, i. , and see the notes on the passage. the ceremonies were also reminiscent of the deluge. *** les deux masques, i. - . the highways cross and meet and increase the meetings of men; so hermes, the ceaseless voyager, is their protecting genius.... who should guide the ghosts down the darkling ways but the deity of the dusk; sometimes he made love to fair ghostly maids whom he attended. so easy is it to interpret all the functions of a god as reflections of elemental phenomena. the origin of hermes remains obscure; but he is, in his poetical shape, one of the most beautiful and human of the deities. he has little commerce with the beasts; we do not find him with many animal companions, like apollo, nor adored, like dionysus, with a ritual in which are remnants of animal-worship. the darker things of his oldest phallic forms remain obscure in his legends, concealed by beautiful fancies, as the old wooden phallic figure, the gift of cecrops, which pausanias saw in athens, was covered with myrtle boughs. though he is occasionally in art represented with a beard, he remains in the fancy as the odysseus met him, "hermes of the golden wand, like unto a young man, with the first down on his cheek, when youth is loveliest". demeter. the figure of demeter, the _mater dolorosa_ of paganism, the sorrowing mother seated on the stone of lamentation, is the most touching in greek mythology. the beautiful marble statue found by mr. newton at cnidos, and now in the british museum, has the sentiment and the expression of a madonna. nowhere in ancient religion was human love, regret, hope and _desiderium_ or wistful longing typified so clearly as in the myth and ritual of demeter. she is severed from her daughter, persephone, who goes down among the dead, but they are restored to each other in the joy of the spring's renewal. the mysteries of eleusis, which represented these events in a miracle-play, were certainly understood by plato and pindar and Æschylus to have a mystic and pathetic significance. they shadowed forth the consolations that the soul has fancied for herself, and gave promise of renewed and undisturbed existence in the society of all who have been dear on earth. yet aristophanes, in the _frogs_, ventures even here to bring in his raillery, and makes xanthias hint that the mystæ, the initiate, "smell of roast-pig". no doubt they had been solemnly sacrificing, and probably tasting the flesh of the pig, the sacred animal of demeter, whose bones, with clay or marble _figurines_ representing him, are found in the holy soil of her temples. thus even in the mystery of demeter the grotesque, the barbaric element appears, and it often declares itself in her legend and in her ritual. a scientific study of demeter must endeavour to disentangle the two main factors in her myth and cult, and to hold them apart. for this purpose it is necessary to examine the development of the cult as far as it can be traced. as to the name of the goddess, for once there is agreement, and even certainty. it seems hardly to be disputed that demeter is greek, and means _mother-earth or earth the mother_.* * welcker, oriech. qml, i. - ; preller, i. , note ; maury, rel. des grdes, l . apparently "a" still means earth in albanian; max müller, selected essays, ii. . there is his mythological panacea. mannhardt is all for "corn-mother," corn being nothing peculiarly hellenic or aryan in the adoration of earth. a comparative study of earth-worship would prove it to be very widely diffused, even among non-european tribes. the demeter cult, however, is distinct enough from the myth of gæa, the earth, considered as, in conjunction with heaven, the parent of the gods. demeter is rather the fruitful soil regarded as a person than the elder titanic formless earth personified as gæa. thus conceived as the foster-mother of life, earth is worshipped in america by the shawnees and potawatomies as _me-mk-kum-mik-o-kwi_, the "mother of earth" it will be shown that this goddess appears casually in a potawatomie legend, which is merely a savage version of the sacred story of eleusis.* tacitus found that mother hertha was adored in germany with rites so mysterious that the slaves who took part in them were drowned. "whereof ariseth a secret terror and an holy ignorance what that should be which they only see who are a-perishing."** it is curious that in the folk-lore of europe, up to this century, food-offerings to the earth were _buried_ in germany and by gipsies; for the same rite is practised by the potawatomies.*** * compare maury, religions de la grece, i. . ** germania, , translation of . *** compare tylor, prim. cult, ii. , with father de smet, oregon missions, new york, , p. . the mexican demeter, centeotl, is well known, and acosta's account of religious ceremonies connected with harvest in mexico and peru might almost be taken for a description of the greek _eiresione_. the god of agriculture among the tongan islanders has one very curious point of resemblance to demeter. in the iliad (v. ) we read that demeter presides over the fanning of the grain. "even as a wind carrieth the chaff about the sacred threshing-floors when men are winnowing, _what time golden demeter, in rush of wind_, maketh division of grain and chaff.".... now the name of the "god of wind, and weather, rain, harvest and vegetation in general" in the tongan islands is alo-alo, literally "to fan".* one is reminded of joachim du bellay's poem, "to the winnowers of corn". thus from all these widely diffused examples it is manifest that the idea of a divinity of earth, considered as the mother of fruits, and as powerful for good or harm in harvest-time, is anything but peculiar to greece or to aryan peoples. in her character as potent over this department of agriculture, the greek goddess was named "she of the rich threshing-floors," "of the corn heaps," "of the corn in the ear," "of the harvest-home," "of the sheaves," "of the fair fruits," "of the goodly gifts," and so forth.** * mariner's _tonga islands_, , ii. . the attic eiresioni may be studied in mannhardt, wald und feld qultus, it , and aztec and peruvian harvest rites of a similar character in custom and myth, pp. - . see also prim. quit., ii. , for other examples. ** welcker, ii, - , a collection of such titles. in popular greek religion, then, demeter was chiefly regarded as the divinity of earth at seed-time and harvest. perhaps none of the gods was worshipped in so many different cities and villages, or possessed so large a number of shrines and rustic chapels. there is a pleasant picture of such a chapel, with its rural disorder, in the _golden ass_ of apuleius. psyche, in her search for cupid, "came to the temple and went in, whereas behold she espied sheaves of corn lying on a heap, blades with withered garlands, and reeds of barley. moreover, she saw hooks, scythes, sickles and other instruments to reape, but everie thing laide out of order, and as it were cast in by the hands of labourers; which when psyche saw she gathered up and put everything in order." the chapel of demeter, in short, was a tool-house, dignified perhaps with some rude statue and a little altar. every village, perhaps every villa, would have some such shrine. behind these observances, and behind the harvest-homes and the rites--half ritual, half folk-lore--which were expected to secure the fertility of the seed sown, there lurked in the minds of priests and in the recesses of sanctuaries certain mystic and secret practices of adoration. in these mysteries demeter was doubtless worshipped in her _chthonian_ character as a goddess of earth, powerful over those who are buried in her bosom, over death and the dead. in these hidden mysteries of her cult, moreover, survived ancient legends of the usual ugly sort, tales of the amours of the goddess in bestial guise. among such rites pausanias mentions, at hermione of dryopian argolis, the _fete_ of chthonian demeter, a summer festival. the procession of men, women, boys and priests dragged a struggling heifer to the doors of the temple, and thrust her in unbound. within the fane she was butchered by four old women armed with sickles. the doors were then opened, and a second and third heifer were driven in and slain by the old women. "this marvel attends the sacrifice, that all the heifers fall on the same side as the first that was slain." there remains somewhat undivulged. "the things which they specially worship, i know not, nor any man, neither native or foreigner, but only the ancient women concerned in the rite."* in arcadia there was a temple of demeter, whose priests boasted a connection with eleusis, and professed to perform the mysteries in the eleusinian manner. here stood two great stones, with another over them, probably (if we may guess) a prehistoric dolmen. within the dolmen, which was so revered that the neighbours swore their chief oath by it, were kept certain sacred scriptures. these were read aloud once a year to the initiated by a priest who covered his face with a mask of demeter. at the same time he smote the earth with rods, and called on the folk below the earth. precisely the same practice, smiting the earth with rods, is employed by those who consult diviners among the zulus.** the zulu woman having a spirit of divination says, "strike the ground for them" (the spirits). "see, they say you came to inquire about something." the custom of wearing a mask of the deity worshipped is common in the religions of animal-worship in egypt, mexico, the south seas and elsewhere. the aztec celebrant, we saw, wore a mask made of the skin of the thigh of the human victim. whether this arcadian demeter was represented with the head of a beast does not appear; she had a mare's head in phigalia. one common point between this demeter of the pheneatæ and the eleusinian is her _taboo_ on beans, which are so strangely mystical a vegetable in greek and roman ritual.*** * paus., li. . ** callaway, izinyanga zokvbula, p. *** for a collection of passages see aglaophamus, - . the black demeter of the phigalians in arcadia was another most archaic form of the goddess. in phigalia the myth of the wrath and reconciliation of the goddess assumed a brutal and unfamiliar aspect. the common legend, universally known, declares that demeter sorrowed for the _enlevement_ of her daughter, persephone, by hades. the phigalians added another cause; the wandering demeter had assumed the form of a mare, and was violently wooed by poseidon in the guise of a stallion.* * the same story was told of cronus and philyra, of agni and a cow in the _satapatha brahmana_ (english translation, i. ), of saranyu, daughter of tvashtri, who "fled in the form of a mare". visvasvat, in like manner, assumed the shape of a horse, and followed her. from their intercourse sprang the two asvins. see muir, sanskrit texts, v. , or _rig- veda_, x. , . here we touch a very curious point. erinnys was au arcadian cognomen of the demeter who was wedded as a mare (paus., viii. ). now, mr. max müller says that "erinnys is the vedic saranyu, the dawn," and we have seen that both demeter erinnys and saranyu were wooed and won in the form of mares (select essays, i. , - ). the curious thing is that, having so valuable a proof in his hand as the common bestial amours of both saranyu and erinnys demeter, mr. max müller does not produce it. the scandinavian horse-loves of loki also recur to the memory. prajapati's loves in the shape of a deer are familiar in the brahmanas. if saranyu=erinnys, and both=dawn, then a dawn- myth has been imported into the legend of demeter, whom nobody, perhaps, will call a dawn-goddess. schwartz, as usual, makes the myth a storm-myth, and demeter a goddess of storms (ursprwig der myth., p. ). the goddess, in wrath at this outrage, attired herself in black mourning raiment, and withdrew into a cave, according to the phigalians, and the fruits of the earth perished. zeus learned from pan the place of demeter's retreat, and sent to her the moeræ or fates, who persuaded her to abate her anger. the cave became her holy place, and there was set an early wooden _xoanon_, or idol, representing the goddess in the shape of a woman with the head and mane of a mare, in memory of her involuntary intrigue in that shape. serpents and other creatures were twined about her head, and in one hand, for a mystic reason undivulged, she held a dolphin, in the other a dove. the wooden image was destroyed by fire, and disasters fell on the phigalians. onatas was then employed to make a bronze statue like the old idol, wherof the fashion was revealed to him in a dream. this restoration was made about the time of the persian war. the sacrifices offered to this demeter were fruits, grapes, honey and uncarded wool; whence it is clear that the black goddess was a true earth-mother, and received the fruits of the earth and the flock. the image by onatas had somewhat mysteriously disappeared before the days of pausanias.* * paus., viii. . compare viii. , , for the horse arion, whom demeter bore to poseidon. even in her rude arcadian shape demeter is a goddess of the fruits of earth. it is probable that her most archaic form survived from the "pelasgian" clays in remote mountainous regions. indeed herodotus, observing the resemblance between the osirian mysteries in egypt and the thesmophoria of demeter in greece, boldly asserts that the thesmophoria were egyptian, and were brought to the pelasgians from egypt (ii. ). the pelasgians were driven out of peloponnesus by the dorians, and the arcadians, who were not expelled, retained the rites. as pelasgians also lingered long in attica, herodotus recognised the thesmophoria as in origin egyptian. in modern language this theory means that the thesmophoria were thought to be a rite of prehistoric antiquity older than the dorian invasion. herodotus naturally explained resemblances in the myth and ritual of distant peoples as the result of borrowing, usually from egypt, an idea revived by m. foucart. these analogies, however, are more frequently produced by the working out of similar thoughts, presenting themselves to minds similarly situated in a similar way. the mysteries of demeter offer an excellent specimen of the process. while the greeks, not yet collected into cities, lived in village settlements, each village would possess its own feasts, mysteries and "medicine-dances," as the red indians say, appropriate to seedtime and harvest. for various reasons, certain of these local rites attained high importance in the development of greek civilisation the eleusinian performances, for instance, were adopted into the state ritual of a famous city, athens, and finally acquired a national status, being open to all not disqualified hellenes. in this development the old local ritual for the propitiation of demeter, for the fertility of the seed sown, and for the gratification of the dead ancestors, was caught up into the religion of the state, and was modified by advancing ideas of religion and morality. but the local athenian mystery of the thesmophoria probably retained more of its primitive shape and purpose. the thesmophoria was the feast of seed-time, and demeter was adored by the women as the patroness of human as well as of universal fertility. thus a certain jocund and licentious element was imparted to the rites, which were not to be witnessed by men. the demeter of the thesmophoria was she who introduced and patronised the (------) of marriage, as homer says of odysseus and penelope.* what was done at the thesmophoria herodotus did not think fit to tell. a scholiast on lucian's _dialogues of courtesans_ let out the secret in a much later age. he repeats the story of the swineherd eubuleus, whose pigs were swallowed up by the earth when it opened to receive hades and persephone. in honour and in memory of eubuleus, pigs were thrown into the cavernof demeter. then certain women brought up the decaying flesh of the dead pigs, and placed it on the altar. it was believed that to mix this flesh with the seed-corn secured abundance of harvest. though the rite is magical in character, perhaps the decaying flesh might act as manure, and be of real service to the farmer. afterwards images of pigs, such as mr. newton found in a hole in the holy plot of demeter at cnidos, were restored to the place whence the flesh had been taken. the practice was believed to make marriage fruitful; its virtues were for the husband as well as for the husbandman.** however the athenians got the rite, whether they evolved it or adapted it from some "pelasgian" or other prehistoric people, similar practices occur among the khonds in india and the pawnees in america. the khonds sacrifice a pig and a human victim, the pawnees a girl of a foreign tribe. * odyssey, xxiii. . ** newton, hulicarn., plate iv. pp. , - . the fragments of flesh are not mixed with the seed-corn, but buried on the borders of the fields.* the ancient, perhaps "pelasgian," ritual of demeter had thus its savage features and its savage analogues. more remarkable still is the pawnee version, as we may call it, of the eleusinia. curiously, the red indian myth which resembles that of demeter and persephone is _not_ told about me-suk-kum-mik-o-kwi, the red indian mother earth, to whom offerings are made, valuable objects being buried for her in brass kettles.** the american tale is attached to the legend of manabozho and his brother chibiabos, not to that of the earth mother and her daughter, if in america she had a daughter. the account of the pawnee mysteries and their origin is worth quoting in full, as it is among the most remarkable of mythical coincidences. if we decline to believe that pere de smet invented the tale for the mere purpose of mystifying mythologists, we must, apparently, suppose that the coincidences are due to the similar workings of the human mind in the prairies as at eleusis. we shall first give the red indian version. it was confided to de smet, as part of the general tradition of the pawnees, by an old chief, and was first published by de smet in his _oregon mission_*** tanner speaks of the legend as one that the indians chant in their "medicine-songs," which record the sacred beliefs of the race.**** * de smet, oregon missions, p. ; mr. russell's, "report" in major campbell's personal narrative, , pp. , . ** tanner's narrative, , p. . *** new york, . **** ibid., new york, , pp. , . he adds that many of these songs are noted down, by a method probably peculiar to the indians, on birch-bark or small flat pieces of wood, the ideas being conveyed by emblematical figures. when it is remembered that the _luck_ of the tribe depends on these songs and rites, it will be admitted that they are probably of considerable antiquity, and that the indians probably did not borrow the story about the origin of their ritual from some european conversant with the homeric hymn to demeter. here follows the myth, as borrowed (without acknowledgment) by schoolcraft from de smet:--* "the manitos (powers or spirits) were jealous of manabozho and chibiabos. manabozho warned his brother never to be alone, but one day he ventured on the frozen lake and was drowned by the manitos. manabozho wailed along the shores. he waged a war against all the manitos.... he called on the dead body of his brother. he put the whole country in dread by his lamentations. he then besmeared his face with black, and sat down six years to lament, uttering the name of chibiabos. the manitos consulted what to do to assuage his melancholy and his wrath. the oldest and wisest of them, who had had no hand in the death of chibiabos, offered to undertake the task of reconciliation. they built a sacred lodge close to that of manabozho, and prepared a sumptuous feast. they then assembled in order, one behind the other, each carrying under his arm a sack of the skin of some favourite animal, as a beaver, an otter, or a lynx, and filled with precious and curious medicines culled from all plants. these they exhibited, and invited him to the feast with pleasing words and ceremonies. he immediately raised his head, uncovered it, and washed off his besmearments and mourning colours, and then followed them. they offered him a cup of liquor prepared from the choicest medicines, at once as a propitiation and an initiatory rite. he drank it at a single draught, and found his melancholy departed. they then commenced their dances and songs, united with various ceremonies. all danced, all sang, all acted with the utmost gravity, with exactness of time, motion and voice. manabozho was cured; he ate, danced, sang and smoked the sacred pipe. * schoolcraft, l . "in this manner the mysteries of the great medicine-dance were introduced. "the manitos now united their powers to bring chibiabos to life. they did so, and brought him to life, but it was forbidden to enter the lodge. they gave him, through a chink, a burning coal, and told him to go and preside over the country of souls and reign over the land of the dead. "manabozho, now retired from men, commits the care of medicinal plants to misukumigakwa, or the mother of the earth, to whom he makes offerings." in all this the resemblance to the legend of the homeric hymn to demeter is undeniable. the hymn is too familiar to require a long analysis. we read how demeter had a fair daughter, persephone; how the lord of the dead carried her off as she was gathering flowers; how demeter sought her with burning torches; and how the goddess came to eleusis and the house of celeus in the guise of an old wife. there she dwelt in sorrow, neither eating nor drinking, till she tasted of a mixture of barley and water (_cyceon_), and was moved to smile by the mirth of iambe. yet she still held apart in wrath from the society of the gods, and still the earth bore not her fruits, till the gods bade hermes restore persephone. but persephone had tasted one pomegranate-seed in hades, and therefore, according to a world-wide belief, she was under bonds to hades. for only half the year does she return to earth; yet by this demeter was comforted; the soil bore fruits again, and demeter showed forth to the chiefs of eleusis her sacred mysteries and the ritual of their performance.* the persephone myth is not in homer, though in homer persephone is lady of the dead. hesiod alludes to it in the _theogony_ ( - ); but the chief authority is the homeric hymn, which matthaeus found ( ) in a farmyard at moscow. "inter pullos et porcos latuerat"--the pigs of demeter had guarded the poem of her mysteries.** as to the date and authorship of the hymn, the learned differ in opinion. probably most readers will regard it as a piece of poetry, like the hymn to aphrodite, rather than as a "mystic chain of verse" meant solely for hieratic purposes. it is impossible to argue with safety that the eleusinian mysteries and legend were later than homer, because homer does not allude to them. * the superstition about the food of the dead is found in new zealand, melanesia, scotland, finland and among the ojibbeways. compare "wandering willie's" tale in _redgaunttet_. ** ruhnken, ap. hignard, _les hymnes homeriques_, p. , paris, . he has no occasion to speak of them. possibly the mysteries were, in his time, but the rites of a village or little town; they attained celebrity owing to their adoption by athens, and they ended by becoming the most famous national festival. the meaning of the legend, in its origin, was probably no more than a propitiation of earth, and a ceremony that imitated, and so secured, the return of spring and vegetation. this early conception, which we have found in america, was easily combined with doctrines of the death and revival, not of the year, not of the seed sown, but of the human soul. these ideas were capable of endless illustration and amplification by priests; and the mysteries, by plato's time, and even by pindar's, were certainly understood to have a purifying influence on conduct and a favourable effect on the fortunes of the soul in the next world. "happy whosoever of mortal men has looked on these things; but whoso hath had no part nor lot in this sacrament hath no equal fate when once he hath perished and passed within the pall of darkness."* of such rites we may believe that plato was thinking when he spoke of "beholding apparitions innocent and simple, and calm and happy, _as in a mystery_"** nor is it strange that, when greeks were seeking for a sign, and especially for some creed that might resist the new worship of christ, plutarch and the neo-platonic philosophers tried to cling to the promise of the mysteries of demeter. * homeric hymn, - . ** phaedrus, . they regarded her secret things as "a dreamy shadow of that spectacle and that rite," the spectacle and rite of the harmonious order of the universe, some time to be revealed to the souls of the blessed.* it may not have been a drawback to the consolations of the hidden services that they made no appeal to the weary and wandering reason of the later heathens. tired out with endless discourse on fate and free will, gods and demons, allegory and explanation, they could repose on mere spectacles and ceremonies and pious ejaculations, "without any evidence or proof offered for the statements ". indeed, writers like plutarch show almost the temper of pascal, trying to secure rest for their souls by a wise passiveness and pious contemplation, and participation in sacraments not understood. as to the origin of these sacraments, we may believe, with lobeck, that it was no priestly system of mystic and esoteric teaching, moral or physical. it was but the "medicine-dance" of a very old greek tribal settlement, perhaps from the first with an ethical element. but from this, thanks to the genius of hellas, sprang all the beauty of the eleusinian ritual, and all the consolation it offered the bereaved, all the comfort it yielded to the weary and heavy laden.** that the popular religious excitement caused by the mysteries and favoured by the darkness often produced scenes of lustful revelry, may be probable enough. "revivals" everywhere have this among other consequences. but we may share lobeck's scepticism as to the wholesale charges of iniquity brought by the fathers. * plutarch, de def. orac. xxii ** lobeck, aglaoph., . in spite of survivals and slanders, the religion of demeter was among the most natural, beautiful and touching of greek beliefs. the wild element was not lacking; but a pious contemporary of plato, when he bathed in the sea with his pig before beholding the mystery-play, probably made up his mind to blink the barbaric and licentious part of the performances. conclusion. this brief review of greek divine myths does not of course aim at exhausting the subject. we do not pretend to examine the legends of all the olympians. but enough has been said to illustrate the method of interpretation, and to give specimens of the method at work. it has been seen that there is only agreement among philologists as to the origin and meaning of two out of nearly a dozen divine names. zeus is admitted to be connected with _dyaus_, and to have originally meant "sky". demeter is accepted as greek, with the significance of "mother earth". but the meaning and the roots of athene, apollo, artemis, hermes, cronus, aphrodite, dionysus--we might add poseidon and hephaestus--are very far from being known. nor is there much more general agreement as to the original elemental phenomena or elemental province held by all of these gods and goddesses. the moon, the wind, the twilight, the sun, the growth and force of vegetation, the dark, the night, the atmosphere, have been shuffled and dealt most variously to the various deities by learned students of myth. this complete diversity of opinion must be accepted as a part in the study. the learned, as a rule, only agree in believing ( ) that the names hold the secret of the original meaning of the gods; and ( ) that the gods are generally personifications of elements or of phenomena, or have been evolved out of such personifications. beyond this almost all is confusion, doubt, "the twilight of the gods". in this darkness there is nothing to surprise. we are not wandering in a magical mist poured around us by the gods, but in a fog which has natural causes. first, there is the untrustworthiness of attempts to analyse proper names. "with every proper name the etymological operation is by one degree more difficult than with an appellative.... we have to deal with two unknown quantities," origin and meaning; whereas in appellatives we know the meaning and have only to hunt for the origin. and of all proper names mythological names are the most difficult to interpret. curtius has shown how many paths may be taken in the analysis of the name achilles. the second part may be of the stem: people, or the stem: stone. does the first part of the word mean "water" (cf. aqua), or is it equivalent to: ("bulwark" or "the people")? or is it akin to: "one who causes pain"? or is the: "prothetic"? and is (it) the root, and does it mean "clear-shining"? or is the word related to (------), and does it mean "dark"? all these and other explanations are offered by the learned, and are chosen by curtius to show the uncertainty and difficulty of the etymological process as applied to names in myth. cornutus remarked long ago that the great antiquity of the name of athene made its etymology difficult. difficult it remains.* whatever the science of language may accomplish in the future, it is baffled for the present by the divine names of greece, or by most of them, and these the most important.** * cf. curtius, greek etym., engl, transl., i. - . ** gruppe, griech. culte und mythtis, p. , selects iapetos, kadmos, kabeiros, adonis, baitylos, typhon, nysos (in dionysos), acheron, kimmerians and gryps, aa certainly phoenician. but these are not the names of the high gods. there is another reason for the obscurity of the topic besides the darkness in which the origin of the names has been wrapped by time. the myths had been very long in circulation before we first meet them in homer and hesiod. we know not whence the gods came. perhaps some of them were the chief divine conceptions of various hellenic clans before the union of clans into states. however this may be, when we first encounter the gods in homer and hesiod, they have been organised into a family, with regular genealogies and relationships. functions have been assigned to them, and departments. was hermes always the herald? was hephaestus always the artisan? was athene from the first the well-beloved daughter of zeus? was apollo from the beginning the mediator with men by oracles? who can reply? we only know that the divine ministry has been thoroughly organised, and departments assigned, as in a cabinet, before we meet the gods on olympus. what they were in the ages before this organisation, we can only conjecture. some may have been adopted from clans whose chief deity they were. if any one took all the samoan gods, he could combine them into a family with due functions and gradations. no one man did this, we may believe, for greece: though herodotus thought it was done by homer and hesiod. the process went on through centuries we know not of; still less do we know what or where the gods were before the process began. thus the obscurity in which the divine origins are hidden is natural and inevitable. our attempt has been to examine certain birth-marks which the gods bear from that hidden antiquity, relics of fur and fin and feather, inherited from ancestral beasts like those which ruled egyptian, american and australian religions. we have also remarked the brilliant divinity of beautiful form which the gods at last attained, in marble, in gold, in ivory and in the fancy of poets and sculptors. here is the truly hellenic element, here is the ideal--athene arming, hera with the girdle of aphrodite, hermes with his wand, apollo with the silver bow--to this the hellenic intellect attained; this ideal it made more imperishable than bronze. finally, the lovely shapes of gods "defecate to a pure transparency" in the religion of aristotle and plutarch. but the gods remain beautiful in their statues, beautiful in the hymns of pindar and the plays of sophocles; hideous, often, in temple myth, and ancient _xoanon_, and secret rite, till they are all, good and evil, cast out by christianity. the most brilliant civilisation of the world never expelled the old savage from its myth and its ritual. the lowest savagery scarcely ever, if ever, wholly loses sight of a heavenly father. in conclusion, we may deprecate the charge of _exclusivism_. the savage element is something, nay, is much, in greek myth and ritual, but it is not everything. the truth, grace and beauty of the myths are given by "the clear spirit" of hellas. nor is all that may be deplored necessarily native. we may well believe in borrowing from phoenicians, who in turn may have borrowed from babylon. examples of this process have occasionally been noted. it will be urged by some students that the wild element was adopted from the religion of prehistoric races, whom the greeks found in possession when first they seized the shores of the country. this may be true in certain cases, but historical evidence is not to be obtained. we lose ourselves in theories of pelasgians and pre-pelasgians, and "la grece avant les grecs". in any case, the argument that the more puzzling part of greek myth is a "survival" would not be affected. borrowed, or inherited, or imitated, certain of the stories and rites are savage in origin, and the argument insists on no more as to that portion of greek mythology. chapter xix. heroic and romantic myths. a new class of myths--not explanatory--popular tales--heroic and romantic myths--( ) savage tales--( ) european contes-- ( ) heroic myths--their origin--diffusion--history of their study--grimm's theory--aryan theory--benfey's theory-- ancient egyptian stories examined--wanderung's theorie-- conclusion. the myths which have hitherto been examined possess, for the most part, one common feature. all, or almost all of them, obviously aim at satisfying curiosity about the causes of things, at supplying gaps in human knowledge. the nature-myths account for various aspects of nature, from the reed by, the river-side that once was a fair maiden pursued by pan, to the remotest star that was a mistress of zeus; from the reason why the crow is black, to the reason why the sun is darkened in eclipse. the divine myths, again, are for the more part essays in the same direction. they try to answer these questions: "who made things?" "how did this world begin?" "what are the powers, felt to be greater than ourselves, which regulate the order of events and control the destinies of men?" myths reply to all these questionings, and the answers are always in accordance with that early nebulous condition of thought and reason where observation lapses into superstition, religion into science, science into fancy, knowledge into fable. in the same manner the myths which we do not treat of here--the myths of the origin of death, of man's first possession of fire, and of the nature of his home among the dead--are all tentative contributions to knowledge. all seek to satisfy the eternal human desire to _know_. "whence came death?" man asks, and the myths answer him with a story of pandora, of maui, of the moon and the hare, or the bat and the tree. "how came fire to be a servant of ours?" the myths tell of prometheus the fire-stealer, or of the fire-stealing wren, or frog, or coyote, or cuttlefish. "what manner of life shall men live after death? in what manner of home?" the myth answers with tales of pohjola, of hades, of amenti, of all that, in the australian black fellow's phrase, "lies beyond the rummut," beyond the surf of the pacific, beyond the "stream of oceanus," beyond the horizon of mortality. to these myths, and to the more mysterious legend of the flood, we may return some other day. for the present, it must suffice to repeat that all these myths (except, perhaps, the traditions of the deluge) fill up gaps in early human knowledge, and convey information as to matters outside of practical experience. but there are classes of tales, or _märchen_, or myths which, as far as can be discovered, have but little of the explanatory element. though they have been interpreted as broken-down nature-myths, the variety of the interpretations put upon them proves that, at least, their elemental meaning is dim and uncertain, and makes it very dubious whether they ever had any such significance at all. it is not denied here that some of these myths and tales may have been suggested by elemental and meteorological phenomena. for example, when we find almost everywhere among european peasants, and among samoyeds and zulus, as in greek heroic-myths of the jason cycle, the story of the children who run away from a cannibal or murderous mother or step-mother, we are reminded of certain nature-myths. the stars are often said* to be the children of the sun, and to flee away at dawn, lest he or their mother, the moon, should devour them. this early observation may have started the story of flight from the cannibal parents, and the legend may have been brought down from heaven to earth. yet this were, perhaps, a far-fetched hypothesis of the origin of a tale which may readily have been born wherever human beings have a tendency (as in north america and south africa) to revert to cannibalism. * nature-myths, vol. i p. . the story is "asterinos und pulja" in von hahn's griech. und alban. marchen. compare samojedische marchen, castren, varies, uber die alt. volk, p. ; callaway, uzembeni. the peculiarity, then, of the myths which we propose to call "heroic and romantic tales" (_märchen contes populaires_), is the absence, as a rule, of any obvious explanatory purpose. they are romances or novels, and if they do explain anything, it is rather the origin or sanction of some human law or custom than the cause of any natural phenomenon that they expound. the kind of traditional fictions here described as heroic and romantic may be divided into three main categories. ( ) first we have the popular tales of the lower and more backward races, with whom may be reckoned, for our present purpose, the more remote and obscure peoples of america. we find popular tales among the bushmen, kaffirs, zulus, samoans, maoris, hurons, samoyeds, eskimos, crees, blackfeet and other so-called savage races. we also find tales practically identical in character, and often in plot and incident, among such a people as the huarochiris, a civilised race brought under the inca empire some three generations before the spanish conquest. the characteristics of these tales are the presence of talking and magically helpful beasts; the human powers and personal existence of even inanimate objects; the miraculous accomplishments of the actors; the introduction of beings of another race, usually hostile; the power of going to and returning from hades--always described in much the same imaginative manner. the persons are sometimes anonymous, sometimes are named while the name is not celebrated; more frequently the tribal culture-hero, demiurge, or god is the leading character in these stories. in accordance with the habits of savage fancy, the chief person is often a beast, such as ananzi, the west african spider; cagn, the bushman grasshopper; or michabo, the algonkin white-hare. animals frequently take parts assigned to men and women in european _märchen_. ( ) in the second place, we have the _märchen_, or _contes_, or household tales of the modern european, asiatic and indian peasantry, the tales collected by the grimms, by afanasief, by von hahn, by miss frere, by miss maive stokes, by m. sebillot, by campbell of islay, and by so many others. every reader of these delightful collections knows that the characteristics, the machinery, all that excites wonder, are the same as in the savage heroic tales just described but it is a peculiarity of the popular tales of the peasantry that the _places_ are seldom named; the story is not localised, and the characters are anonymous. occasionally our lord and his saints appear, and satan is pretty frequently present, always to be defeated and disgraced; but, as a rule, the hero is "a boy," "a poor man" "a fiddler," "a soldier," and so forth, no names being given. ( ) thirdly, we have in epic poetry and legend the romantic and heroic tales of the great civilised races, or races which have proved capable of civilisation. these are the indians, the greeks, romans, celts, scandinavians and germans. these have won their way into the national literatures and the region of epic. we find them in the _odyssey_, the _edda_ the celtic poems, the _ramayana_, and they even appear in the _veda_. they occur in the legends and pedigrees of the royal heroes of greece and germany. they attach themselves to the dim beginnings of actual history, and to real personages like charlemagne. they even invade the legends of the saints. the characters are national heroes, such as perseus, jason, Ædipus and olympian gods, and holy men and women dear to the church, and primal heroes of the north, sigurd and signy. their paths and places are not in dim fairyland, but in the fields and on the shores we know--at roland's pass in the pyrenees, on the enchanted colchian coast, or among the blameless ethiopians, or in thessaly, or in argos. now, in all these three classes of romance, savage fables, rural märchen, greek or german epics, the ideas and incidents are analogous, and the very conduct of the plot is sometimes recognisably the same. the moral ideas on which many of the märchen, sagas, or epic myths turn are often identical. everywhere we find doors or vessels which are not to be opened, regulations for the conduct of husband and wife which are not to be broken; everywhere we find helpful beasts, birds and fishes; everywhere we find legends proving that one cannot outwit his fate or evade the destiny prophesied for him. the chief problems raised by these sagas and stories are--( ) how do they come to resemble each other so closely in all parts of the world? ( ) were they invented once for all, and transmitted all across the world from some centre? ( ) what was that centre, and what was the period and the process of transmission? before examining the solutions of those problems, certain considerations may be advanced. the supernatural _stuff_ of the stories, the threads of the texture, the belief in the life and personality of all things--in talking beasts and trees, in magical powers, in the possibility of visiting the diad--must, on our theory as already set forth, be found wherever men have either passed through savagery, and retained-survivals of that intellectual condition, or wherever they have borrowed or imitated such survivals. by this means, without further research, we may account for the similarity of the stuff of heroic myths and marchen. the stuff is the same as in nature myths and divine myths. but how is the similarity of the arrangement of the incidents and ideas into _plots_ to be accounted for? the sagas, epic myths, and marchen do not appear to resemble each other everywhere (as the nature-myths do), because they are the same ideas applied to the explanation of the same set of natural facts. the sagas, epics and marchen seem to explain nothing, but to be told, in the first instance, either to illustrate and enforce a moral, or for the mere pleasure of imaginative narration. we are thus left, provisionally, with the notion that occasionally the resemblance of plot and arrangement may be _accidental_. in shaking the mental kaleidoscope, which contains a given assortment of ideas, analogous combinations may not impossibly be now and then produced everywhere. or the story may have been invented once for all in one centre, but at a period so incalculably remote that it has filtered, in the exchanges and contacts of prehistoric life, all over the world, even to or from the western pacific and the lonely oceanic islands. or, once more, the story may have had a centre in the old world, say, in india; may have been carried to europe by oral tradition or in literary vehicles, like the _pantschatantra_ or the _hitopadesa_, or by gypsies; may have reached the sailors, and trappers, and miners of civilisation, and may have been communicated by them (in times subsequent to the discovery of america by columbus) to the backward races of the world. these are preliminary statements of possibilities, and theories more or less based on those ideas are now to be examined. the best plan may be to trace briefly the history of the study of popular tales. as early as charles perrault's time ( ), popular traditional tales had attracted some curiosity, more or less scientific. mademoiselle l'heritier, the abbe villiers, and even the writer of the dedication of perrault's _contes_ to mademoiselle, had expressed opinions as to the purposes for which they were first told, and the time and place where they probably arose. the troubadours, the arabs, and the fanciful invention of peasant nurses were vaguely talked of as possible first authors of the popular tales. about the same time, huet, bishop of avranches, had remarked that the hurons in north america amused their winter leisure with narratives in which beasts endowed with speech and reason were the chief characters. little was done to secure the scientific satisfaction of curiosity about traditional folk-tales, contes or marchen till the time when the brothers grimm collected the stories of hesse. the grimms became aware that the stories were common to the peasant class in most european lands, and that they were also known in india and the east. as they went on collecting, they learned that african and north american tribes also had their marchen, not differing greatly in character from the stories familiar to german firesides. already sir walter scott had observed, in a note to the lady of the lake, that "a work of great interest might be compiled upon the origin of popular fiction, and the transmission of similar tales from age to age, and from country to country. the mythology of one period would then appear to pass into the romance of the next, and that into the nursery tales of subsequent ages." this opinion has long been almost universal. thus, if the story of jason is found in greek myths, and also, with a difference, in popular modern marchen, the notion has been that the marchen is the last and youngest form, the _detritus_ of the myth. now, as the myth is only known from literary sources (homer, mimnermus, apollonius rhodius, euripides, and so on), it must follow, on this theory, that the people had borrowed from the literature of the more cultivated classes. as a matter of fact, literature has borrowed far more from the people than the people have borrowed from literature, though both processes have been at work in the course of history. but the question of the relations of marchen to myths, and of both to romance, may be left unanswered for the moment. more pressing questions are, what is the origin, and where the original home of the marchen or popular tales, and how have they been so widely diffused all over the world? the answers given to these questions have naturally been modified by the widening knowledge of the subject. one answer seemed plausible when only the common character of european _contes_ was known; another was needed when the aryan peoples of the east were found to have the same stories; another, or a modification of the second, was called for when marchen like those of europe were found among the negroes, the indians of brazil, the ancient huarochiri of peru, the people of madagascar, the samoyeds, the samoans, the dene hareskins of the extreme american north-west, the zulus and kaffirs, the bushmen, the finns, the japanese, the arabs, and the swahilis. the grimms, in the appendix to their _household tales_,* give a list of the stories with which they were acquainted. out of europe they note first the literary collections of the east, the thousand and one nights and the hitopadesa, which, with the book of sinda-bad, and the pantschatantra, and the katharit sagara, contain almost all of the oriental tales that filtered into western literature through written translations. the grimms had not our store of folk-tales recently collected from the lips of the aryan and non-aryan natives of hindostan, such as the works of miss maive stokes, of miss frere, of captain steel, of mr. lai behar day, and the few santal stories. but the grimms had some kalmuck stories.** * mrs. hunt's translation, london, . ** "the relations of ssidi kur," in bergmann's _nomadische stretfereien_, vol. i. one or two chinese and japanese examples had fallen into their hands, and all this as early as . in later years they picked up a malay story, some bechuana tales, koelle's kanuri or bornu stories, schoolcraft's and james athearn jones's north american legends, finnish, esthonian and mongolian narratives, and an increasing store of european _contes_. the grimms were thus not unaware that the _märchen_, with their surprising resemblances of plot and incident, had a circulation far beyond the limits of the ayran peoples. they were specially struck, as was natural, by the reappearance of incidents analogous to those of the german _contes_ (such as _machandelboom_ and the _singing bone_, , ) among the remote bechuanas of south africa. they found, too, that in sierra leone beasts and birds play the chief parts in _märchen_. "they have a much closer connection with humanity,... nay, they have even priests," as the animals in guiana have _peays_ or sorcerers of their own. "only the beasts of the country itself appear in the _märchen_." among these bornu legends they found several tales analogous to _faithful john_ ( ), and to one in stra-parola's _piacevoli notti_ (venice, ), a story, by the way, which recurs among the santals, an "aboriginal" tribe of india. it is the tale of the man who knows the language of animals, and is warned by them against telling secrets to women. among the indians of north america grimm found the analogue of his tale ( ) of the _elves' gifts_, which, by the way, also illustrates a proverb in japan. finnish, tartar and indian analogues were discovered in plenty. such were grimm's materials; much less abundant than ours, indeed, but sufficient to show him that "the resemblance existing between the stories, not only of nations widely removed from each other by time and distance, but also between those which lie near together, consists partly in the underlying idea and the delineation of particular characters, and partly in the weaving together and unravelling of incidents". how are these resemblances to be explained? that is the question. grimm's answer was, as ours must still be, only a suggestion. "there are situations so simple and natural that they reappear everywhere, just like the isolated words which are produced in a nearly or entirely identical form in languages which have no connection with each other, by the mere imitation of natural sounds." thus to a certain, but in grimm's opinion to a very limited extent, the existence of similar situations in the marchen of the most widely separated peoples is the result of the common facts of human thought and sentiment. to repeat a convenient illustration, if we find talking and rational beasts and inanimate objects, and the occurrence of metamorphosis and of magic, and of cannibals and of ghosts (as we do), in the marchen as in the higher myths of all the world, and if we also find certain curious human customs in the contes, these resemblances may be explained as born of the same early condition of human fancy, which regards all known things as personal and animated, which believes in ghosts and magic, while men also behave in accordance with customs now obsolete and forgotten in civilisation. these common facts are the threads (as we have said) in the cloth of myth and marchen. they were supplied by the universal early conditions of the prescientific human intellect; thus the stuff of marchen is everywhere the same. but why are the patterns--the situations, and the arrangements, and sequence of incidents--also remarkably similar in the contes of unrelated and unconnected tribes and races everywhere? here the difficulty begins in earnest. it is clearly not enough to force the analogy, and reply that the patterns of early fabrics and the decorations of early weapons, of pottery, tattooing marks, and so forth, are also things universally human.* * see custom and myth, "the art of savages," p. . the close resemblances of undeveloped greek and mexican and other early artistic work are interesting, but may be accounted for by similarity of materials, of instruments, of suggestions from natural objects, and of inexperience in design. the selections of similar situations and of similar patterns into which these are interwoven in _märchen_, by greeks, huarochiris of peru, and samoans or eskimos, is much more puzzling to account for. grimm gives some examples in which he thinks that the ideas, and their collocations in the story, can only have originally occurred to one mind, once for all. how is the wide distribution of such a story to be accounted for? grimm first admits "_as rare exceptions_ the probability of a story's passing from one people to another, and firmly rooting itself in foreign soil". but such cases, he says, are "one or two solitary exceptions," whereas the diffusion of stories which, in his opinion, could only have been invented once for all is an extensive phenomenon. he goes on to say, "we shall be asked where the outermost lines of common property in stories begin, and how the lines of affinity are gradated". his answer was not satisfactory even to himself, and the additions to our knowledge have deprived it of any value. "the outermost lines are coterminous with those of the great race which is called indo-germanic." outside of the indo-germanic, or "aryan" race, that is to say, are found none of the _märchen_ which are discovered within the borders of that race. but grimm knew very well himself that this was an erroneous belief. "we see with amazement in such of the stories of the negroes of bornu and the bechuanas (a wandering tribe in south africa) as we have become acquainted with _an undeniable connection with the german ones_, while at the same time their peculiar composition distinguishes them from these." so grimm, though he found "no decided resemblance" in north american stories, admitted that the boundaries of common property in marchen did include more than the "indo-germanic" race. bechuanas, and negroes, and finns, as he adds, and as sir george dasent saw,* are certainly within the fold. * _popular tales from the norse_, , pp. liv., lv. there william grimm left the question in . his tendency apparently was to explain the community of the marchen on the hypothesis that they were the original common store of the undivided aryan people, carried abroad in the long wanderings of the race. but he felt that the presence of the marchen among bechuanas, negroes and finns was not thus to be explained. at the same time he closed the doors against a theory of borrowing, except in "solitary exceptions," and against the belief in frequent, separate and independent evolution of the same story in various unconnected regions. thus grimm states the question, but does not pretend to have supplied its answer. the solutions offered on the hypothesis that the marchen are exclusively aryan, and that they are the _detritus_ or youngest and latest forms of myths, while these myths are concerned with the elemental phenomena of nature, and arose out of the decay of language, have been so frequently criticised that they need not long detain us.* the most recent review of the system is by m. cosquin.** in place of repeating objections which have been frequently urged by the present writer, an abstract of m. cosquin's reasons for differing from the "aryan" theory of von hahn may be given. voh hahn was the collector and editor of stories from the modern greek,*** and his work is scholarly and accomplished. he drew up comparative tables showing the correspondence between greek and german _märchen_ on the one side, and greek and teutonic epics and higher legends or sagas on the other. he also attempted to classify the stories in a certain number of recurring _formula_ or plots. lin von hahn's opinion, the stories were originally the myths of the undivided aryan people in its central asian home. as the different branches scattered and separated, they carried with them their common store of myths, which were gradually worn down into the _detritus_ of popular stories, "the youngest form of the myth". the same theory appeared (in ) in mr. max muller's _chips from a german workshop_**** the undivided aryan people possessed, in its mythological and proverbial phraseology, the seeds or germs, more or less developed, which would nourish, under any sky, into very similar plants--that is, the popular stories. * see our introduction to mrs. hunt's translation of grimm's household tales. ** contes populaire de lorraine, paris, , pp. i., xv. *** grieschische und albanesische marchen, . **** vol. ii. p. . against these ideas m. cosquin argues that if the aryan people before its division preserved the myths only in their _earliest germinal form_, it is incredible that, when the separated branches had lost touch of each other, the final shape of their myths, the _märchen_, should have so closely resembled each other as they do. the aryan theory (as it may be called for the sake of brevity) rejects, as a rule, the idea that tales can, as a rule, have been _borrowed_, even by one aryan people from another.* "nursery tales are generally the last things to be borrowed by one nation from another."** then, says m. cosquin, as the undivided aryan people had only the myths in their least developed state, and as the existing peasantry have only the _detritus_ of these myths--the _märchen_--and as you say borrowing is out of the question, how do you account for a coincidence like _this_? in the punjaub, among the bretons, the albanians, the modern greeks and the russians we find a _conte_ in which a young man gets possession of a magical ring. this ring is stolen from him, and recovered by the aid of certain grateful beasts, whom the young man has benefited. his foe keeps the ring in his mouth, but the grateful mouse, insinuating his tail into the nose of the thief, makes him sneeze, and out comes the magical ring! * cox, mythol. of aryan nations, i. . ** max müller, chips, ii. . common sense insists, says m. cosquin, that this detail was invented once for all. it must have first occurred, not in a myth, but in a _conte_ or _märchen_, from which all the others alike proceed. therefore, if you wish the idea of the mouse and the ring and the sneeze to be a part of the store of the undivided aryans, you must admit that they had _contes, märchen_, popular stories, what you call the _detritus_ of myths, as well as myths themselves, before they left their cradle in central asia. "nos ancetres, les peres des nations europeennes, auraient, de cette facon, emporte dans leurs fourgons la collection complete de contes ibleus actuels." in short, if there was no borrowing, myths have been reduced (on the aryan theory) to the condition of _detritus_, to the diamond dust of mar-chen, before the aryan people divided. but this is contrary to the hypothesis. m. cosquin does not pause here. the _märchen_--mouse, ring, sneeze and all--is found among _non-aryan_ tribes, "the inhabitants of mardin in mesopotamia and the kariaines of birmanie".* well, if there was no borrowing, how did the non-aryan peoples get the story? * cosquin, i, xi., xii., with his authorities in note . m. cosquin concludes that the theory he attacks is untenable, and determines that, "after having been invented in this place or that, which we must discover" [if we can], "the popular tales of the various european nations (to mention these alone) have spread all over the world from people to people by way of borrowing". in arriving at this opinion, m. cosquin admits, as is fair, that the grimms, not having our knowledge of non-aryan _märchen_ (mongol, syrian, arab, kabyle, swahili, annamite--he might have added very many more), could not foresee all the objections to the theory of a store common to aryans alone. were we constructing an elaborate treatise on _märchen_, it would be well in this place to discuss the aryan theory at greater length. that theory turns on the belief that popular stories are the _detritus_ of aryan myths. it would be necessary then to discuss the philological hypothesis of the origin and nature of these original aryan myths themselves; but to do so would lead us far from the study of mere popular tales.* leaving the aryan theory, we turn to that supported by m. cosquin himself--the theory, as he says, of benfey.** inspired by benfey, m. cosquin says: "the method must be to take each type of story successively, and to follow it, if we can, from age to age, from people to; people, and see where this voyage of discovery will lead us. now, travelling thus from point to point, often by different routes, we always arrive at the same centre, namely, at india, _not the india of fabulous times_, but the india of actual history." the theory of m. cosquin is, then, that the popular stories of the world, or rather the vast majority of them, were _invented_ in india, and that they were carried from india, during the historical period, by various routes, till they were scattered over all the races among whom they are found. this is a venturesome theory, and is admitted, apparently, to have its exceptions. for example, we possess ancient egyptian popular tales corresponding to those of the rest of the world, but older by far than historical india, from which, according to m. cosquin, the stories set forth on their travels.*** * it has already been attempted in our custom and myth; introduction to mrs. hunt's grimm; la mythologie, and elsewhere. ** for m. benfey's notions, see bulletin de i' academie de saint petersburg, september - , , and pantschatantra, leipzig, . *** see m. maspero's collection, _contes populaires de l'egypte ancienne_, paris, . one of these egyptian tales, the two brothers, was actually written down on the existing manuscript in the time of rameses ii., some years before our era, and many centuries before india had any known history. no man can tell, moreover, how long it had existed before it was copied out by the scribe ennana. now this tale, according to m. cosquin himself, has points in common with _märchen_ from hesse, hungary, russia, modern greece, france, norway, lithuania, hungary, servia, annam, modern india, and, we may add, with samoyed _märchen_, with hottentot _marchen_, and with _märchen_ from an "aboriginal" people of india, the santals. we ask no more than this one _märchen_ of ancient egypt to upset the whole theory that india was the original home of the contes, and that from historic india they have been carried by oral transmission, and in literary vehicles, all over the world. first let us tell the story briefly, and then examine its incidents each separately, and set forth the consequences of that examination. according to the story of _the two brothers_-- once upon a time there were two brothers; anapou was the elder, the younger was called bitiou. anapou was married, and bitiou lived with him as his servant. when he drove the cattle to feed, he heard what they said to each other, and drove them where they told him the pasture was best. one day his brother's wife saw him carrying a very heavy burden of grain, and she fell in love with his force, and said, "come and lie with me, and i will make thee goodly raiment". but he answered, "art thou not as my mother, and my brother as a father to me? speak to me thus no more, and never will i tell any man what a word thou hast said." then she cast dust on her head, and went to her husband, saying, "thy brother would have lain with me; slay him or i die". then the elder brother was like a panther of the south, and he sharpened his knife, and lay in wait behind the door. and when the sun set, bitiou came driving his cattle; but the cow that walked before them all said to him, "there stands thine elder brother with his knife drawn to slay thee". then he saw the feet of his brother under the door, and he fled, his brother following him; and he cried to ra, and ra heard him, and between him and his brother made a great water flow full of crocodiles. now in the morning the younger brother told the elder all the truth, and he mutilated himself, and cast it into the water, and the _calmar_ fish devoured it. and he said, "i go to the valley of acacias" (possibly a mystic name for the next world), "and in an acacia tree i shall place my heart; and if men cut the tree, and my heart falls, thou shalt seek it for seven years, and lay it in a vessel of water. then shall i live again and requite the evil that hath been done unto me. and the sign that evil hath befallen me shall be when the cup of beer in thy hand is suddenly turbid and troubled." then the elder brother cast dust on his head and besmeared his face, and went home and slew his wicked wife. now the younger brother dwelt in the valley of acacias, and all the gods came by that way, and they pitied his loneliness, and chnum made for him a wife.* and the seven hathors came and prophesied, saying, "_she shall die an ill death and a violent_". and bitiou loved her, and told her the secret of his life, and that he should die when his heart fell from the acacia tree. * chnum is the artificer among the gods. now, a lock of the woman's hair fell into the river, and it floated to the place where pharaoh's washermen were at work. and the sweet lock perfumed all the raiment of pharaoh, and the washermen knew not wherefore, and they were rebuked. then pharaoh's chief washerman went to the water and found the hair of the wife of bitiou; and pharaoh's magicians went to him and said, "our lord, thou must marry the woman from whose head this tress of hair hath floated hither". and pharaoh hearkened unto them, and he sent messengers even to the valley of acacias, and they came unto the wife of bitiou. and she said, "first you must slay my husband"; and she showed them the acacia tree, and they out the flower that held the heart of bitiou, and he died. then it so befel that the brother of bitiou held in his hand a cup of beer, and, lo! the beer was troubled. and he said, "alas, my brother!" and he sought his brother's heart, and he found it in the berry of the acacia. then he laid it in a cup of fresh water, and bitiou drank of it, and his heart went into his own place, and lived again. then said bitiou, "lo! i shall become the bull, even apis" (hapi); and they led him to the king, and all men rejoiced that apis was found. but the bull went into the chamber of the king's women, and he spake to the woman that had been the wife of bitiou. and she was afraid, and said to pharaoh, "wilt thou swear to give me my heart's desire?" and he swore it with an oath. and she said, "slay that bull that i may eat his liver". then felt pharaoh sick for sorrow, yet for his oath's sake he let slay the bull. and there fell of his blood two quarts on either side of the son of pharaoh, and thence grew two persea trees, great and fair, and offerings were made to the trees, as they had been gods. then the wife of pharaoh went forth in her chariot, and the tree spake to her, saying, "i am bitiou". and she let cut down that tree, and a chip leaped into her mouth, and she conceived and bare a son. and that child was bitiou; and when he came to full age and was prince of that land, he called together the councillors of the king, and accused the woman, and they slew her. and he sent for his elder brother, and made him a prince in the land of egypt. we now propose to show, not only that the incidents of this tale--far more ancient than historic india as it is--are common in the _märchen_ of many countries, but that they are inextricably entangled and intertwisted with the chief plots of popular tales. there are few of the main cycles of popular tales which do not contain, as essential parts of their machinery, one or more of the ideas and situations of this legend. there is thus at least a presumption that these cycles of story may have been in existence in the reign of rameses ii., and for an indefinite period earlier; while, if they were not, and if they are made of borrowed materials, it may have been from the egypt of an unknown antiquity, not from much later indian sources, that they were adapted. the incidents will now be analysed and compared with those of _märchen_ in general. to this end let us examine the incidents in the ancient egyptian tale of _the two brothers_. these incidents are:-- ( ) the _spretæ injuria formæ_ of the wedded woman, who, having offered herself in vain to a man, her brother-in-law, accuses him of being her assailant. this incident, of course, occurs in homer, in the tale of bellerophon, before we know anything of historic india. this, moreover, seems one of the notions (m. cosquin admits, with benfey, that there are such notions) which are "universally human," and _might_ be invented anywhere. ( ) the egyptian hippolytus is warned of his danger by his cow, which speaks with human voice. every one will recognise the ram which warns phrixus and helle in the jason legend.* in the albanian _märchen_,** a _dog_, not a cow nor a ram, gives warning of the danger. animals, in short, often warn of danger by spoken messages, as the fish does in the brahmanic deluge-myth, and the dog in a deluge-myth from north america. * the authority cited by the scholiast (apoll. rhod., argon., i. ) is hecatseus. scholiast on iliad, vii. , quotes philostephanus. ** von hahn, i. . ( ) the accused brother is pursued by his kinsman, and about to be slain, when ra, at his prayer, casts between him and the avenger a stream full of crocodiles. this incident is at least not very unlike one of the most widely diffused of all incidents of story--the _flight_ in which the runaways cause magical rivers or lakes suddenly to cut off the pursuer. this narrative of the flight and the obstacles is found in scotch, gaelic, japanese (no water obstacle), zulu, russian, samoan, and in "the red horse of the delawares," a story from dacotah, as well as in india and elsewhere.* the difference is, that in the egyptian _conte_, as it has reached us in literary form, the fugitive appeals to ra to help him, instead of magically making a river by throwing water or a bottle behind him, as is customary. it may be conjectured that the substitution of divine intervention in response to prayer for magical self-help is the change made by a priestly scribe in the traditional version.** * see folk-lore journal, april, , review of _houston's popular stories_, for examples of the magic used in the flight. ** maspero, contes, p. , note . ( ) next morning the brothers parley across the stream. the younger first mutilates himself (_atys_) then says he is going to the vale of the acacia, according to m. maspero probably a name for the other world. meanwhile the younger brother will put his _heart_ in a high acacia tree. if the tree is cut down, the elder brother must search for the _heart_, and place it in a jar of water, when the younger brother will revive. here we have the idea which recurs in the samoyed marchen where the men lay aside their hearts, in which are their separable lives. as mr. ralston says,* "this heart-breaking episode occurs in the tales of many lands". in the russian the story is koschchei the deathless, whose "death" (or life) lies in an egg, in a duck, on a log, in the ice.** as mr. ralston well remarks, a very singular parallel to the revival of the egyptian brothers heart in water is the hottentot tale of a girl eaten by a lion. her heart is extracted from the lion, is placed in a calabash of milk, and the girl comes to life again.*** ( ) the younger brother gives the elder a sign magical, whereby he shall know how it fares with the heart. when a cup of beer suddenly grows turbid, then evil has befallen the heart. this is merely one of the old _sympathetic signs_ of story--the opal that darkens; the comb of lemminkainen in the _kalewala_ that drops blood when its owner is in danger; the stick that the hero erects as he leaves home, and which will fall when he is imperilled. in australia the natives practise this magic with a stick, round which they bind the hair of the distant person about whose condition they want to be informed.**** this incident, turning on the belief in _sympathies_, might perhaps be regarded as "universally human" and capable of being invented anywhere. * russian folk-tales, . ** in norse, asbjornsen and moe, ; dasent, . gaelic, campbell, i. , p. . indian, "punchkin," old deccan days, pp. - . samoyed, castren, ethnol. varies liber die altaischen volker., p. . *** bleek, reynard the fox of south africa, p. . **** dawson, australian aborigines, p. , . the stick used is the "throwing stick" wherewith the spear is hurled,( ) the elder brother goes home and kills his wife. the gods pity the younger bitiou in the valley of acacias, and make him a wife. m. cosquin has found in france the trait of the blood that boils in the glass when the person concerned is in danger. ( ) the three hathors come to her creation, and prophesy for her a violent death. for this incident compare perrault's _the sleeping beauty_ and maury's work on _les fees_. the spiritual midwives and prophetesses at the hour of birth are familiar in _märchen_ as fairies, and fates, and mæræ. ( ) the river carries a tress of the hair of bitiou's wife to the feet of pharaoh's washermen; the scent perfumes all the king's linen. pharaoh falls in love with the woman from whose locks this tress has come. for this incident compare _cinderella_. in santal and indian _märchen_ a tress of hair takes the place of the glass-slipper, and the amorous prince or princess will only marry the person from whose head the lock has come. here m. cosquin himself gives siamese, mongol, bengali (lai behar day, p. ), and other examples of the lock of hair doing duty for the slipper with which the lover is smitten, and by which he recognises his true love. ( ) the wife of bitiou reveals the secret of his heart. the people of pharaoh cut down the acacia tree. ( ) his brother reads in the turbid beer the death of bitiou. he discovers the heart and life in a berry of the acacia. it is superfluous to give modern parallels to the various transformations of the life of bitiou. he becomes an apis bull, and his faithless wife desires his death, and wishes to eat his liver, but his life goes on in other forms. this is merely the familiar situation of the ass in _peau d'ane_ (the ass who clearly, before perrault's time, had been human). _demandez lui la peau de ce rare animal!_ in most traditional versions of _cinderella_ will be found examples of the beast, once human, slain by an enemy, yet potent after death. this beast takes the part given by perrault to the fairy godmother. the idea is also familiar in grimm's _machandelboom_ ( ), and was found by casalis among the bechuanas. ( ) the wicked wife obtains the bull apis's death by virtue of a _hasty oath_ of pharaoh's (_jephtha, herodias_). ( ) the blood of the bull grows into two persea trees. here m. cosquin himself supplies parallels of blood turning into trees from hesse (wolf, p. ) and from russian. we may add the ancient lydian myth. when the gods slew agdistis, a drop of his blood became an almond tree, the fruit of which made women pregnant.* * pausanias, vii. . ( ) the persea tree is also cut down by the wicked wife of bitiou. a chip from its boughs is swallowed by the wicked wife, who conceives, like margata in the _kalewala_, and bears a son. the story of agdistis, just quoted, is in point, but the topic is of enormous range, and the curious may consult _le fils de vierge_ by m. h. de charencey. compare also surya bay in _old deccan days_ ( ). the final resurrection of surya bay is exactly like that in the hottentot tale already quoted. surya is drowned by a jealous rival, becomes a golden flower, is burned, becomes a mango; one of the fruits falls into a calabash of milk, and out of the calabash, like the hottentot girl, comes surya! ( ) the son of the persea tree was bitiou, born of his own faithless wife; and when he grew up he had her put to death. even a hasty examination of these incidents from old egypt proves that before india was heard of in history the people of the pharaohs possessed a large store of incidents perfectly familiar in modern marchen. now, if one single egyptian tale yields this rich supply, it is an obvious presumption that the collection of an egyptian grimm might, and probably would, have furnished us with the majority of the situations common in popular tales. m. cosquin himself remarks that these ideas cannot be invented more than once (i. lxvii.). the other egyptian contes, as that of _le prince predestine_ (twentieth dynasty), and the noted _master thief_ of herodotus (ii. ), are merely familiar marchen of the common type, and have numerous well-known analogues. from all these facts m. cosquin draws no certain conclusions. he asks: did egypt borrow these tales from india, or india from egypt? _and were there aryans in india in the time of rameses ii.?_ these questions are beyond conjecture. we know nothing of egyptian relations with prehistoric india. we know not how many aeons the tale of _the two brothers_ may have existed in egypt before ennana, the head librarian, wrote it out for pharaoh's treasurer, qagabou. what we do know is, that if we find a large share of the whole stock of incident of popular tale fully developed in one single story long before india was historic, it is perfectly vain to argue that all stories were imported from historic india. it is impossible to maintain that the single centre whence the stories spread was not the india of fable, but the india of history, when we discover such abundance of story material in egypt before, as far as is known, india \ had even become the india of fable. the topic is altogether too obscure for satisfactory argument. certainly the _märchen_ were at home in egypt before we have even reason to believe that egypt and india were conscious of each other's existence. the antiquity of _märchen_ by the nile-side touches geological time, if we agree with m. maspero that bitiou is a form of osiris, that is, that the osiris myth may have been developed out of the bitiou _märchen_.* * maspero, op. cit., p. , note . the osiris myth is as old as the egypt we know, and the story of bitiou may be either the _detritus_ or the germ of the myth. this gives it a dateless antiquity; and with this _märchen_ the kindred and allied _märchen_ establish a claim to enormous age. but it is quite impossible to say when these tales were first invented. we cannot argue that the cradle of a story is the place where it first received literary form. we know not whence the egyptians came to nile-side; we know not whether they brought the story with them, or found it among some nameless earlier people, fugitives from kor, perhaps, or anywhere else. we know not whether the remote ancestors of modern peoples, african, or european, or asiatic, who now possess forms of the tale, borrowed it from a people more ancient than egypt, or from egypt herself. these questions are at present insoluble. we only know for certain that, when we find anywhere any one of the numerous incidents of the story of _the two brothers_, we can be certain that their original home was _not_ historic india. there is also the presumption that, if we knew more of the tales of ancient egypt, we could as definitely refuse to regard historic india as the cradle of many other _märchen_. thus, in opposition to the hypothesis of borrowing from india, we reach some distinct and assured, though negative, truths. . so far as the ideas in _the two brothers_ are representative of _märchen_ (and these ideas are inextricably interwoven with some of the most typical legends), _historic_ india is certainly and demonstrably _not_ the cradle of popular tales. these are found far earlier already in the written literature of egypt. . as far as these ideas are representative of _märchen_, there is absolutely no evidence to show that _märchen_ sprang from india, whether historical or prehistoric; nor is any connection proved between ancient egypt and prehistoric india. . as far as _märchen_ are represented by the ideas in _the two brothers_ and the _predestined prince_, there is absolutely no evidence to show in what region or where they were originally invented. the bellerophon story rests on a _donnee_ in _the two brothers_; the _flight_ rests on another; _cinderella_ reposes on a third; the giant with no heart in his body depends on a fourth; the _milk-white dove_ on the same; and these incidents occur in hottentot, bechuana, samoyed, samoan, as well as in greek, scotch, german, gaelia now, as all these incidents existed in egyptian _marchen_ fourteen hundred years before christ, they _may_ have been dispersed without indian intervention. one of the white raiders from the northern sea may have been made captive, like the pseud-odysseus, in egypt; may have heard the tales; may have been ransomed, and carried the story to greece or libya, whence a greek got it. southwards it may have passed up the nile to the great lakes, and down the congo and zambesi, and southward ever with the hordes of t'chaka's ancestors. all these processes are possible and even probable, but absolutely nothing is known for certain on the subject. it is only as manifest as facts can be that all this might have occurred if the indian peninsula _did not exist._ another objection to the hypothesis of distribution from historic india is the existence of sagas or epic legends corresponding to marchen in pre-homeric greece. the story of jason, for example, is in its essential features, perhaps, the most widely diffused of all.* the story of the return of the husband, and of his difficult recognition by his wife, the central idea of the _odyssey_, is of wide distribution, and the _odyssey_ (as fenelon makes the ghost of achilles tell homer in hades) is _un amas de contes de vieilles_. the cyclops, the siren, scylla, and the rest,** these tales did not reach greece from historic india at least, and we have no reason for supposing that india before the dawn of history was their source. * custom and myth, "a far-travelled tale ". ** gerland, alt griechische marchen in der odyssee. the reasons for which india has been regarded as a great centre and fountain-head of popular stories are, on the other hand, excellent, if the theory is sufficiently limited. the cause is _vera causa_. marchen certainly did set out from mediaeval india, and reached mediaeval europe and asia in abundance. not to speak of oral communications in the great movements, missions and migrations, tartar, crusading, gypsy, commercial and buddhistic--in all of which there must have been "swopping of stories"--it is certain that western literature was actually invaded by the _contes_ which had won away into the literature of india.* these are facts beyond doubt, but these facts must not be made the basis of too wide an inference. though so many stories have demonstrably been borrowed from india in the historical period, it is no less certain that many existed in europe before their introduction. again, as has been ably argued by a writer in the _athenaeum_ (april , ), the literary versions of the tales probably had but a limited influence on the popular narrators, the village gossips and grandmothers. thus no collection of published tales has ever been more popular than that of charles perrault, which for many years has been published not only in cheap books, but in cheaper broadsheets. * cosquin, op. cit., i. xv., xxiv.; max müller, "the migrations of fables," selected essays, vol. ii., appendix; benfey, pantschatantra; comparetti, introduction to book of sindibad, english translation of the folk-lore society. yet m. sebillot and other french collectors gather from the lips of peasants versions of _cinderella_, for example, quite unaffected by perrault's version, and rich in archaic features, such as the presence of a miracle-working beast instead of a fairy godmother. that detail is found in kaffir, and santhal, and finnish, as well as in celtic, and portuguese, and scottish variants, and has been preserved in popular french traditions, despite the influence of perrault. in the same way, m. carnoy finds only the faintest traces of the influence of a collection so popular as the _arabian nights_. the peasantry regard tales which they read in books as quite apart from their inherited store of legend.* * sebillot's popular cendrillon is le taureau bleu in contes de la haute bretagne. see also m. carnoy's contes francais, , p. . if printed literature has still so little power over popular tradition, the manuscript literature of the middle ages must have had much less, though sometimes _contes_ from india were used as parables by preachers. thus we must beware of over-estimating the effect of importation from india, even where it distinctly existed. even the versions that were brought in the middle ages by oral tradition must have encountered versions long settled in europe--versions which may have been current before any scribe of egypt perpetuated a legend on papyrus. once more, the indian theory has to account for the presence of tales in africa and america among populations which are not known to have had any contact with india at all. where such examples are urged, it is usual to say that the stories either do not really resemble our _märchen_, or are quite recent importations by europeans, dutch, french, english and others.* here we are on ground where proof is difficult, if not impossible. assuredly french influence declares itself in certain narratives collected from the native tribes of north america. on the other hand, when the _märchen_ is interwoven with the national traditions and poetry of a remote people, and with the myths by which they account to themselves for the natural features of their own country, the hypothesis of recent borrowing from europeans appears insufficient. a striking example is the song of siati (a form of the jason myth) among the people of samoa.** even more remarkable is the presence of a crowd of familiar _märchen_ in the national traditions of the huarochiri, a pre-inca civilised race of southern peru. these were published, or at least collected and written down, by francisco de avila, a spanish priest, about . he remarks that "these traditions are deeply rooted in the hearts of the people of this province".*** these traditions refer to certain prehistoric works of engineering or accidents of soil, whereby the country was drained. the huarochiri explained them by a series of _märchen_ about huthiacuri, pariaca (culture-heroes), and about friendly animals which aided them in the familiar way. in the same manner exactly the people of the marais of poitou have to account for the drainage of the country, a work of the twelfth century. * cosquin, op. cit, , xix. ** turner's samoa, p. . *** rites of the incas. hakluyt society. the third document in the book. the _märchen_ have been examined by me in _the marriage of cupid and psyche_, p. lxxii. they attribute the old works to the local hero, gargantua, who "drank up all the water".* no one supposes that this legend is borrowed from rabelais, and it seems even more improbable that the huarochiri hastily borrowed _märchen_ from the spaniards, and converted them before into national myths. * _revue des traditions populaires_, april , , p. . we have few opportunities of finding examples of remote american _märchen_ recorded so early as this, and generally the hypothesis of recent borrowing from europeans, or from negroes influenced by europeans, is at least possible, and it would be hard to prove a negative. but the case of the huarochiri throws doubt on the hypothesis of recent borrowing as the invariable cause of the diffusion of _märchen_ in places beyond the reach of historic india. the only way (outside of direct evidence) to prove borrowing would be to show that ideas and customs peculiarly indian (for example) occur in the _märchen_ of people destitute of these ideas. but it would be hard to ask believers in the indian theory to exhibit such survivals. in the first place, if _contes_ have been borrowed, it seems that a new "local colour" was given to them almost at the moment of transference. the zulu and kaffir _märchen_ are steeped in zulu and kaffir colour, and the life they describe is rich in examples of rather peculiar native rites and ceremonies, seldom if ever essential to the conduct of the tale. thus, if stories are "adapted" (like french plays) in the moment of borrowing, it will be cruel to ask supporters of the indian theory for traces of indian traits and ideas in european _märchen_. again, apart from special yet non-essential matters of etiquette (such as the ceremonies with which certain kinsfolk are treated, or the initiation of girls at the marriageable age), the ideas and customs found in marchen are practically universal as has been shown, the super-natural stuff--metamorphosis, equality of man, beasts and things, magic and the like--_is_ universal. thus little remains that could be fixed on as especially the custom or idea of any one given people. for instance, in certain variants of _puss in boots_, swahili, avar, neapolitan, the beast-hero makes it a great point that, when he dies, he is to be _honourably buried_. now what peoples give beasts honourable burial? we know the cases of ancient egyptians, samoans, arabs and athenians (in the case, at least, of the wolf), and probably there are many more. thus even so peculiar an idea or incident as this cannot be proved to belong to a definite region, or to come from any one original centre.* * see deulin, gontes de ma mire l'oye, and reinhold kohler in gonzenbach's siclianische marchen, no. . by the very nature of the case, therefore, it is difficult for m. cosquin and other supporters of the indian theory to prove the existence of indian ideas in european marchen. nor do they establish this point. they urge that _charity to beasts_ and the _gratitude of beasts_, as contrasted with human lack of gratitude, are indian, and perhaps buddhist ideas. thus the buddha gave his own living body to a famished tigress. but so, according to garcilasso, were the subjects of the incas wont to do, and they were not buddhists. the beasts in marchen, again, are just as often, or even more frequently, helpful to men without any motive of gratitude; nor would it be fair to argue that the notion of gratitude has dropped out, because we find friendly beasts all the world over, totems and manitous, who have never been benefited by man. the favours are all on the side of the totems. it is needless to adduce again the evidence on this topic. m. cosquin adds that the belief in the equality and interchangeability of attributes and aspect between man and beast is "une idee bien indienne," and derived from the doctrine of metempsychosis, "qui efface la distinction entre l'homme et l'animal, et qui en tout vivant voit un frere". but it has been demonstrated that this belief in the equality and kinship not only of all animate, but all inanimate nature, is the very basis of australian, zuni and all other philosophies of the backward races. no idea can be less peculiar to india; it is universal. once more, the belief that shape-shifting (metamorphosis) can be achieved by skin-shifting, by donning or doffing the hide of a beast, is no more "peculiarly indian" than the other conceptions. benfey, to be sure, laid stress on this point;* but it is easy to produce examples of skin-shifting and consequent metamorphosis from roman, north american, old scandinavian, thlinkeet, slav and vogul ritual and myths.** there remains only a trace of polygamy in european marchen to speak of specially indian influence.*** but polygamy is not peculiar to india, nor is monogamy a recent institution in europe. * pantschatantra, i . ** marriage of cupid and psyche, pp. lx., lxiv., where examples and authorities are given. *** cosquin, op. cit, i., xxx. thus each "peculiarly indian" idea supposed to be found in marchen proves to be practically universal. so the whole indian hypothesis is attacked on every side. _contes_ are far older than _historic_ india. nothing raises even a presumption that they first arose in _prehistoric_ india. they are found in places where they could hardly have travelled from historic india. their ideas are not peculiarly indian, and though many reached europe and asia in literary form derived from india during the middle ages, and were even used as parables in sermons, yet the majority of european folk-tales have few traces of indian influence. some examples of this influence, as when the "frame-work" of an oriental collection has acquired popular circulation, will be found in professor crane's interesting book, _italian popular tales_, pp. , . but to admit this is very different from asserting that german _hausmarchen_ are all derived from "indian and arabian originals, with necessary changes of costume and manners," which is, apparently, the opinion of some students. what remains to do is to confess ignorance of the original centre of the _märchen_, and inability to decide dogmatically which stories must have been invented only once for all, and which may have come together by the mere blending of the universal elements of imagination. it is only certain that no limit can be put to a story's power of flight _per ora virum_. it may wander wherever merchants wander, wherever captives are dragged, wherever slaves are sold, wherever the custom of exogamy commands the choice of alien wives. thus the story flits through the who let race and over the whole world. wherever human communication is or has been possible, there the story may go, and the space of time during which the courses of the sea and the paths of the land have been open to story is dateless and unknown. here the story may dwindle to a fireside tale; there it may become an epic in the mouth of homer or a novel in the hands of madame d'aulnoy or miss thackeray. the savage makes the characters beasts or birds; the epic \ poet or saga-man made them heroic kings, or lovely, baleful sorceresses, daughters of the sun; the french countess makes them princesses and countesses. like its own heroes, the popular story can assume every shape; like some of them, it has drunk the waters of immortality.* * a curious essay by mr. h. e. warner, on "the magical flight," urges that there is no plot, but only a fortuitous congeries of story-atoms (scribner's magazine, june, ). there is a good deal to be said, in this case, for mr. warner's conclusions. appendix a. fontenelle's forgotten common sense in the opinion of aristotle, most discoveries and inventions have been made time after time and forgotten again. aristotle may not have been quite correct in this view; and his remarks, perhaps, chiefly applied to politics, in which every conceivable and inconceivable experiment has doubtless been attempted. in a field of less general interest--namely, the explanation of the absurdities of mythology--the true cause was discovered more than a hundred years ago by a man of great reputation, and then was quietly forgotten. why did the ancient peoples--above all, the greeks--tell such extremely gross and irrational stories about their gods and heroes? that is the riddle of the mythological sphinx. it was answered briefly, wittily and correctly by fontenelle; and the answer was neglected, and half a dozen learned but impossible theories have since come in and out of fashion. only within the last ten years has fontenelle's idea been, not resuscitated, but rediscovered. the followers of mr. e. b. taylor, mannhardt, gaidoz, and the rest, do not seem to be aware that they are only repeating the notions of the nephew of corneille. the academician's theory is stated in a short essay, de l'origine des fables (oeuvres: paris, , vol. iii. p. ). we have been so accustomed from childhood, he says, to the absurdities of greek myth, that we have ceased to be aware that they are absurd. why are the legends of men and beasts and gods so incredible and revolting? why have we ceased to tell such tales? the answer is, that early men were in "a state of almost inconceivable savagery and ignorance," and that the greek myths are inherited from people in that condition. "look at the kaffirs and iroquois," says fontenelle, "if you wish to know what early men were like; and remember that even the iroquois and kaffirs are people with a long past, with knowledge and culture (_politesse_) which the first men did not enjoy." now the more ignorant a man is, the more prodigies he supposes himself to behold. thus the first narratives of the earliest men were full of monstrous things, "parce qu'ils etoient faits par des gens sujets a voir bien des choses qui n'etaient pas". this condition answers, in mr. tylor's system, to the confusion the savage makes between dreams and facts, and to the hallucinations which beset him when he does not get his regular meals. here, then, we have a groundwork of irresponsible fancy. the next step is this: even the rudest men are curious, and ask "the reason why" of phenomena. "ii y a eu de la philosophie meme dans ces siecles grossiers;" and this rude philosophy "greatly contributed to the origin of myths ". men looked for causes of things. "'whence comes this river?' asked the reflective man of those ages--a queer philosopher, yet one who might have been a descartes did he live to-day. after long meditation, he concluded that some one had always to keep filling the source whence the stream springs. and whence came the water? our philosopher did not consider so curiously. he had evolved the myth of a water-nymph or naiad, and there he stopped. the characteristic of these mythical explanations--as of all philosophies, past, present and to come--was that they were limited by human experience. early man's experience showed him that effects were produced by conscious, sentient, personal causes like himself. he sprang to the conclusion that all hidden causes were also persons. these persons are the _dramatis personæ_ of myth. it was a person who caused thunder, with a hammer or a mace; or it was a bird whose wings produced the din. "from this rough philosophy which prevailed in the early ages were born the gods and goddesses"--deities made not only in the likeness of man, but of savage man as he, in his ignorance and superstition, conceived himself to be. fontenelle might have added that those fancied personal causes who became gods were also fashioned in the likeness of the beasts, whom early man regarded as his equals or superiors. but he neglects this point. he correctly remarks that the gods of myth appear immoral to us because they were devised by men whose morality was all unlike ours--who prized justice less than power, especially (he might have added) magical power. as morality ripened into self-consciousness, the gods improved with the improvement of men; and "the gods known to cicero are much better than those known to homer, because better philosophers have had a hand at their making". moreover, in the earliest speculations an imaginative and hair-brained philosophy explained all that seemed extraordinary in nature; while the sphere of philosophy was filled by fanciful narratives about facts. the constellations called the bears were accounted for as metamorphosed men and women. indeed, "all the metamorphoses are the physical philosophy of these early times," which accounted for every fact by what we now calletiological nature-myths. even the peculiarities of birds and beasts were thus explained. the partridge flies low because daedalus (who had seen his son icarus perish through a lofty flight) was changed into a partridge. this habit of mind, which finds a story for the solution of every problem, survives, fontenelle remarks, in what we now call folk-lore--popular tradition. thus, the elder tree is said to have borne as good berries as the vine does till judas iscariot hanged himself from its branches. this story must be later than christianity; but it is precisely identical in character with those ancient metamorphoses which ovid collected. the kind of fancy that produced these and other prodigious myths is not peculiar, fontenelle maintains, to eastern peoples. "it is common to all men," at a certain mental stage--"in the tropics or in the regions of eternal ice." thus the world-wide similarities of myths are, on the whole, the consequence of a worldwide uniformity of intellectual development. fontenelle hints at his proof of this theory. he compares the myths of america with those of greece, and shows that distance in space and difference of race do not hinder peruvians and athenians from being "in the same tale". "for the greeks, with all their intelligence, did not, in their beginnings, think more rationally than the savages of america, who were also, apparently, a rather primitive people (_assez nouveau_)." he concludes that the americans might have become as sensible as the greeks if they had been allowed the leisure. with an exception in the israelites, fontenelle decides that all nations made the astounding part of their myths while they were savages, and retained them from custom and religious conservatism. but myths were also borrowed and interchanged between phoenicia, egypt and greece. further, greek misunderstandings of the meanings of phoenician and other foreign words gave rise to myths. finally, myths were supposed to contain treasures of antique mysterious wisdom; and mythology was explained by systems which themselves are only myths, stories told by the learned to themselves and to the public. "it is not science to fill one's head with the follies of phoenicians and greeks, but it is science to understand what led greeks and phoenicians to imagine these follies." a better and briefer system of mythology could not be devised; but the mr. casaubons of this world have neglected it, and even now it is beyond their comprehension. appendix b. reply to objections in a work which perhaps inevitably contains much controversial matter, it has seemed best to consign to an appendix the answers to objections against the method advocated. by this means the attention is less directed from the matter in hand, the exposition of the method itself. we have announced our belief that a certain element in mythology is derived from the mental condition of savages. to this it is replied, with perfect truth, that there are savages and savages; that a vast number of shades of culture and of nascent or retrograding civilisation exist among the races to whom the term "savage" is commonly applied. this is not only true, but its truth is part of the very gist of our theory. it is our contention that myth is sensibly affected by the varieties of culture which prevail among so-called savage tribes, as they approach to or decline from the higher state of barbarism. the anthropologist is, or ought to be, the last man to lump all savages together, as if they were all on the same level of culture. when we speak of "the savage mental condition," we mean the mental condition of all uncultivated races who still fail to draw any marked line between man and the animate or inanimate things in the world, and who explain physical phenomena on a vague theory, more or less consciously held, that all nature is animated and endowed with human attributes. this state of mind is nowhere absolutely extinct; it prevails, to a limited extent, among untutored european peasantry, and among the children of the educated classes. but this intellectual condition is most marked and most powerful among the races which ascend from the condition of the australian murri and the bushmen, up to the comparatively advanced maoris of new zealand and algonkins or zunis of north america. these are the sorts of people who, for our present purpose, must be succinctly described as still in the savage condition of the imagination. again, it is constantly objected to our method that we have no knowledge of the past of races at present in the savage status. "the savage are as old as the civilised races, and can as little be named primitive," writes dr. fairbairn.* mr. max müller complains with justice of authors who "speak of the savage of to-day as if he had only just been sent into the world, forgetting that, as a living species, he is probably not a day younger than ourselves".** but mr. max müller has himself admitted all we want, namely, _that savages or nomads represent an earlier stage of culture than even the ancient sanskrit-speaking aryans_, this follows from the learned writer's assertion that savage tongues, kaffir and so forth, are still in the childhood which hebrew and the most ancient sanskrit had long left behind them.*** "we see in them" (savage languages) "what we can no longer expect to see even in the most ancient sanskrit or hebrew. we watch the childhood of language with all its childish pranks." these "pranks" are the result of the very habits of savage thought which we regard as earlier than "the most ancient sanskrit". * academy, th july, . a ** hibb. lect., p. . *** lectures on science of language, nd series, p. . thus mr. max müller has admitted all that we need--admitted that savage language (and therefore, in his view, savage thought) is of an earlier stratum than, for example, the language of the vedas. no more valuable concession could be made by a learned opponent. objections of an opposite character, however, are pushed, along with the statement that we have no knowledge of the past of savages. savages were not always what they are now; they may have degenerated from a higher condition; their present myths may be the corruption of something purer and better; above all, savages are not _primitive_. all this contention, whatever its weight, does not affect the thesis of the present argument. it is quite true that we know nothing directly of the condition, let us say, of the australian tribes a thousand years ago except that it has left absolutely no material traces of higher culture. but neither do we know anything directly about the condition of the indo-european peoples five hundred years before philology fancies that she gets her earliest glimpse of them. we must take people as we find them, and must not place too much trust in our attempts to reconstruct their "dark backward". as to the past of savages, it is admitted by most anthropologists that certain tribes have probably seen better days. the fuegians and the bushmen and the digger indians were probably driven by stronger races out of seats comparatively happy and habits comparatively settled into their present homes and their present makeshift wretchedness.* * the fuegiaus are not (morally and socially) so black as they have occasionally been painted. but it is probable that they "have seen better days". if the possession of a language with, apparently, a very superfluous number of words is a proof of high civilisation in the past, then the fuegians are degraded indeed. but the finding of one piece of native pottery in an australian burial-mound would prove more than a wilderness of irregular verbs. but while degeneration is admitted as an element in history, there seems no tangible reason for believing that the highest state which bushmen, fuegians, or diggers ever attained, and from which they can be thought to have fallen, was higher than a rather more comfortable savagery. there are ups and downs in savage as in civilised life, and perhaps "crowned races may degrade," but we have no evidence to show that the ancestors of the diggers or the fuegians were a "crowned race". their descent has not been comparatively a very deep one; their presumed former height was not very high. as mr. tylor observes, "so far as history is to be our criterion, progression is primary and degradation secondary; culture must be gained before it can be lost". one thing about the past of savages we do know: it must have been a long past, and there must have been a period in it when the savage had even less of what aristotle calls (------) even less of the equipment and provision necessary for a noble life than he possesses at present. his past must have been long, because great length of time is required for the evolution of his exceedingly complex customs, such as his marriage laws and his minute etiquette. mr. herbert spencer has deduced from the multiplicity, elaborateness and wide diffusion of australian marriage laws the inference that the australians were once more civilised than they are now, and had once a kind of central government and police. but to reason thus is to fail back on the old greek theory which for every traditional custom imagined an early legislative hero, with a genius for devising laws, and with power to secure their being obeyed. the more generally accepted view of modern science is that law and custom are things slowly evolved under stress of human circumstances. it is certain that the usual process is from the extreme complexity of savage to the clear simplicity of civilised rules of forbidden degrees. wherever we see an advancing civilisation, we see that it does not put on new, complex and incomprehensible regulations, but that it rather sloughs off the old, complex and incomprehensible regulations bequeathed to it by savagery. this process is especially manifest in the laws of forbidden degrees in marriage--laws whose complexity among the australians or north american indians "might puzzle a mathematician," and whose simplicity in a civilised country seems transparent even to a child. but while the elaborateness and stringency of savage customary law point to a more, and not a less barbarous past, they also indicate a past of untold duration. somewhere in that past also it is evident that the savage must have been even worse off materially than he is at present. even now he can light a fire; he has a bow, or a boomerang, or a blowpipe, and has attained very considerable skill in using his own rough tools of flint and his weapons tipped with quartz. now man was certainly not born in the possession of fire; he did not come into the world with a bow or a boomerang in his hand, nor with an instinct which taught him to barb his fishing-hooks. these implements he had to learn to make and use, and till he had learned to use them and make them his condition must necessarily have been more destitute of material equipment than that of any races known to us historically. thus all that can be inferred about the past of savages is that it was of vast duration, and that at one period man was more materially destitute, and so far more struggling and forlorn, than the murri of australia were when first discovered by europeans. even then certain races _may_ have had intellectual powers and potentialities beyond those of other races. perhaps the first fathers of the white peoples of the north started with better brains and bodies than the first fathers of the veddahs of ceylon; but they all started naked, tool-less, fire-less. the only way of avoiding these conclusions is to hold-that men, or some favoured races of man, were created with civilised instincts and habits of thought, and were miraculously provided with the first necessaries of life, or were miraculously instructed to produce them without passing through slow stages of experiment, invention and modification. but we might as well assume, with some early biblical commentators, that the naked adam in paradise was miraculously clothed in a vesture of refulgent light. against such beliefs we have only to say that they are without direct historical confirmation of any kind. but if, for the sake of argument, we admit the belief that primitive man was miraculously endowed, and was placed at once in a stage of simple and happy civilisation, our thesis still remains unaffected. dr. fairbairn's saying has been quoted, "the savage are as old as the civilised races, and can as little be called primitive". but we do not wish to call savages primitive. we have already said that savages have a far-stretching unknown history behind them, and that (except on the supposition of miraculous enlightenment followed by degradation) their past must have been engaged in slowly evolving their rude arts, their strange beliefs and their elaborate customs. undeniably there is nothing "primitive" in a man who can use a boomerang, and who must assign each separate joint of the kangaroo he kills to a separate member of his family circle, while to some of those members he is forbidden by law to speak. men were not born into the world with all these notions. the lowest savage has sought out or inherited many inventions, and cannot be called "primitive". but it never was part of our argument that savages _are_ primitive. our argument does not find it necessary to claim savagery as the state from which all men set forth. about what was "primitive," as we have no historical information on the topic, we express no opinion at all. man may, if any one likes to think so, have appeared on earth in a state of perfection, and may have degenerated from that condition. some such opinion, that purity and reasonableness are "nearer the beginning" than absurdity and unreasonableness, appears to be held by mr. max müller, who remarks, "i simply say that in the veda we have a nearer approach to a beginning, and an intelligible beginning, than in the wild invocations of hottentots or bushmen".* * lectures on india. would mr. müller add, "i simply say that in the arts and political society of the vedic age we have a nearer approach to a beginning than in the arts and society of hottentots and bushmen"? is the use of chariots, horses, ships--are kings, walled cities, agriculture, the art of weaving, and so forth, all familiar to the vedic poets, nearer the beginning of man's civilisation than the life of the naked or skin-clad hunter who has not yet learned to work the metals, who acknowledges no king, and has no certain abiding-place? if not, why is the religion of the civilised man nearer the beginning than that of the man who is not civilised? we have already seen that, in mr. max muller's opinion, his language is much farther from the beginning. whatever the primitive condition of man may have been, it is certain that savagery was a stage through which he and his institutions have passed, or from which he has copiously borrowed. he may have degenerated from perfection, or from a humble kind of harmless simplicity, into savagery. he may have risen into savagery from a purely animal condition. but however this may have been, modern savages are at present in the savage condition, and the ancestors of the civilised races passed through or borrowed from a similar savage condition. as mr. tylor says, "it is not necessary to inquire how the savage state first came to be upon the earth. it is enough that, by some means or other, it has actually come into existence."* it is a stage through which all societies have passed, or (if that be contested) a condition of things from which all societies have borrowed. this view of the case has been well put by m. darmesteter.** * prim. cult., i . ** revue critique, january, . he is speaking of the history of religion. "if savages do not represent religion in its germ, if they do not exemplify that vague and indefinite thing conventionally styled 'primitive religion,' at least they represent a stage through which all religions have passed. the proof is that a very little research into civilised religions discovers a most striking similarity between the most essential elements of the civilised and the non-historic creeds." proofs of this have been given when we examined the myths of greece. we have next to criticise the attempts which have been made to discredit the _evidence_ on which we rely for our knowledge of the intellectual constitution of the savage, and of his religious ideas and his myths and legends. if that evidence be valueless, our whole theory is founded on the sand. the difficulties in the way of obtaining trustworthy information about the ideas, myths and mental processes of savages are not only proclaimed by opponents of the anthropological method, but are frankly acknowledged by anthropologists themselves. the task is laborious and delicate, but not impossible. anthropology has, at all events, the advantage of studying an actual undeniably existing state of things, to sift the evidence as to that state of things, to examine the opportunities, the discretion, and the honesty of the witnesses, is part of the business of anthropology. a science which was founded on an uncritical acceptance of all the reports of missionaries, travellers, traders, and "beach-combers," would be worth nothing. but, as will be shown, anthropology is fortunate in the possession of a touchstone, "like that," as theocritus says, "wherewith the money-changers try gold, lest perchance base metal pass for true". the "difficulties which beset travellers and missionaries in their description of the religious and intellectual life of savages" have been catalogued by mr. max muller. as he is not likely to have omitted anything which tells against the evidence of missionaries and travellers, we may adopt his statement in an abridged shape, with criticisms, and with additional illustrations of our own.* * hibbert lectures, p. first, "few men are quite proof against the fluctuations of public opinion". thus, in rousseau's time, many travellers saw savages with the eyes rousseau--that is, as models of a simple "state of nature". in the same way, we may add, modern educated travellers are apt to see savages in the light cast on them by mr. tylor or sir john lubbock. mr. im thurn, in guiana, sees with mr. tylor's eyes; messrs. fison and howitt, among the kamilaroi in australia, see with the eyes of mr. lewis morgan, author of _systems of consanguinity_. very well; we must allow for the bias in each case. but what are we to say when the travellers who lived long before begnard report precisely the same facts of savage life as the witty frenchman who wrote that "next to the ape, the laplander is the animal nearest to man"? what are we to say when the mariner, or beach-comber, or indian interpreter, who never heard of rousseau, brings from canada or the marquesas islands a report of ideas or customs which the trained anthropologist finds in new guinea or the admiralty islands, and with which the inca, garcilasso de la vega, was familiar in peru? if the wesleyan missionary in south africa is in the same tale with the jesuit in paraguay or in china, while the lutheran in kamtschatka brings the same intelligence as that which they contribute, and all three are supported by the shipwrecked mariner in tonga and by the squatter in queensland, as well as by the evidence, from ancient times and lands, of strabo, diodorus and pausanias, what then? is it not clear that if pagan greeks, jesuits and wesleyans, squatters and anthropologists, indian interpreters and the fathers of the christian church, are all agreed in finding this idea or that practice in their own times and countries, their evidence is at least unaffected by "the fluctuations of public opinion"? this criterion of undesigned coincidence in evidence drawn from protestants, catholics, pagans, sceptics, from times classical, mediaeval and modern, from men learned and unlearned, is the touchstone of anthropology. it will be admitted that the consentient testimony of persons in every stage of belief and prejudice, of ignorance and learning, cannot agree, as it does agree, by virtue of some "fluctuation of public opinion". it is to be regretted that, in mr. max muller's description of the difficulties which beset the study of savage religious ideas, he entirely omits to mention, on the other side, the corroboration which is derived from the undesigned coincidence of independent testimony. this point is so important that it may be well to quote mr. tylor's statement of the value of the anthropological criterion:-- it is a matter worthy of consideration that the accounts of similar phenomena of culture, recurring in different parts of the world, actually supply incidental proof of their own authenticity. some years since a question which brings out this point was put to me by a great historian, "how can a statement as to customs, myths, beliefs, etc., of a savage tribe be treated as evidence where it depends on the testimony of some traveller or missionary who may be a superficial observer, more or less ignorant of the native language, a careless retailer of unsifted talk, a man prejudiced, or even wilfully deceitful?" this question is, indeed, one which every ethnographer ought to keep clearly and constantly before his mind. of course he is bound to use his best judgment as to the trustworthiness of all authors he quotes, and if possible to obtain several accounts to certify each point in each locality. but it is over and above these measures of precaution that the test of recurrence comes in. if two independent visitors to different countries, say a mediaeval mohammedan in tartary and a modern englishman in dahomey, or a jesuit missionary in brazil and a wesleyan in the fiji islands, agree in describing some analogous art, or rite, or myth among the people they have visited, it becomes difficult or impossible to set down such correspondence to accident or wilful fraud. a story by a bushranger in australia may perhaps be objected to as a mistake or an invention; but did a methodist minister in guinea conspire with him to cheat the public by telling the same story there? the possibility of intentional or unintentional mystification is often barred by such a state of things as that a similar statement is made in two remote lands by two witnesses, of whom a lived a century before b, and b appears never to have heard of a. how distant are the countries, how wide apart the dates, how different the creeds and characters of the observers in the catalogue of facts of civilisation, needs no farther showing to any one who will even glance at the footnotes of the present work. and the more odd the statement, the less likely that several people in several places should have made it wrongly. this being so, it seems reasonable to judge that the statements are in the main truly given, and that their close and regular coincidence is due to the cropping up of similar facts in various districts of culture. now the most important facts of ethnography are vouched for in this way. experience leads the student after a while to expect and find that the phenomena of culture, as resulting from widely-acting similar causes, should recur again and again in the world. he even mistrusts isolated statements to which he knows of no parallel elsewhere, and waits for their genuineness to be shown by corresponding accounts from the other side of the earth or the other end of history. so strong indeed is the means of authentication, that the ethnographer in his library may sometimes presume to decide not only whether a particular explorer is a shrewd and honest observer, but also whether what he reports is conformable to the general rules of civilisation. _non quia, sed quid._ it must be added, as a rider to mr. tylo^s remarks, that anthropology is rapidly making the accumulation of fresh and trustworthy evidence more difficult than ever. travellers and missionaries have begun to read anthropological books, and their evidence is therefore much more likely to be biassed now by anthropological theories than it was of old. when mr. m'lennan wrote on "totems" in ,* he was able to say, "it is some compensation for the completeness of the accounts that we can thoroughly trust them, as the totem has not till now got itself mixed up with speculations, and accordingly the observers have been unbiassed. but as anthropology is now more widely studied, the _naif_ evidence of ignorance and of surprise grows more and more difficult to obtain." * fortnightly review, october . we may now assert that, though the evidence of each separate witness may be influenced by fluctuations of opinion, yet the consensus of their testimony, when they are unanimous, remains unshaken. the same argument applies to the private inclination, and prejudice, and method of inquiry of each individual observer. travellers in general, and missionaries in particular, are biassed in several distinct ways. the missionary is sometimes anxious to prove that religion can only come by revelation, and that certain tribes, having received no revelation, have no religion or religious myths at all. sometimes the missionary, on the other hand, is anxious to demonstrate that the myths of his heathen flock are a corrupted version of the biblical narrative. in the former case he neglects the study of savage myths; in the latter he unconsciously accommodates what he hears to what he calls "the truth". in modern days the missionary often sees with the eyes of mr. herbert spencer. the traveller who is not a missionary may either have the same prejudices, or he may be a sceptic about revealed religion. in the latter case he is perhaps unconsciously moved to put burlesque versions of biblical stories into the mouths of his native informants, or to represent the savages as ridiculing (dr. moffat found that they did ridicule) the scriptural traditions which he communicates to them. yet again we must remember that the leading questions of a european inquirer may furnish a savage with a thread on which to string answers which the questions themselves have suggested. "have you ever had a great flood?" "yes." "was any one saved?" the leading question starts the invention of the savage on a deluge-myth, of which, perhaps, the idea has never before entered his mind. the last is a source of error pointed out by mr. codrington:* * journal of anthrop. inst, february . "the questions of the european are a thread on which the ideas of the native precipitate themselves". now, as european inquirers are prone to ask much the same questions, a people which, like some celts and savages, "always answers yes," will everywhere give much the same answers. mr. romilly, in his book on the western pacific,* remarks, "in some parts of new britain, if a stranger were to ask, 'are there men with tails in the mountains?' he would probably be answered 'yes,' that being the answer which the new briton" (and the north briton, too, very often) "would imagine was expected of him, and would be most likely to give satisfaction. the train of thought in his mind would be something like this, 'he must know that there are no such men, but he cannot have asked so foolish a question without an object, and therefore he wishes me to say 'yes!' of course the first 'yes' leads to many others, and in a very short time everything is known about these tailed men, and a full account of them is sent home." what is true of tailed men applies to native answers about myths and customs when the questions are asked by persons who have not won the confidence of the people nor discovered their real beliefs by long and patient observation. this must be borne in mind when missionaries tell us that savages believe in one supreme deity, in a mediator, and the like, and it must be borne in mind when they tell us that savages have no supreme being at all. always we must be wary! a very pleasing example of inconsistency in reports about the same race may be found in a comparison of the account of the khonds in the thirteenth volume of the royal asiatic society with the account given by general campbell in his _personal narrative_, the inquirer in the former case did not know the khond language, and trusted to interpreters, who were later expelled from the public service. general campbell, on the other hand, believed himself to possess "the confidence of the priests and chiefs," and his description is quite different. in cases of contradictions like these, the anthropologist will do well to leave the subject alone, unless he has very strong reasons for believing one or other of the contending witnesses. * _the western pacific and new guinea_, london, , pp. - . ** hibbert lectures, p. . we have now considered the objections that may be urged against the bias of witnesses. mr. max müller founds another objection on "the absence of recognised authorities among savages".* this absence of authority is not always complete; the maoris, for example, have traditional hymns of great authority and antiquity. there are often sacred songs and customs (preserved by the red indians in chants recorded by picture-writing on birch bark), and there always is some teaching from the mothers to their children, or in the mysteries. all these, but, above all, the almost immutable sacredness of _custom_, are sources of evidence. but, of course, the story of one savage informant may differ widely from that of his neighbour. the first may be the black sheep of the tribe, the next may be the saint of the district. "both would be considered by european travellers as unimpeachable authorities with regard to their religion." this is too strongly stated. even the inquiring squatter will repose more confidence in the reports about his religion of a black with a decent character, or of a black who has only recently mixed with white men, than in those of a rum-bibbing loafer about up-country stations or a black professional bowler on a colonial cricket-ground. our best evidence is from linguists who have been initiated into the secret mysteries. still more will missionaries and scholars like bleek, hahn, codrington, castren, gill, callaway, theal, and the rest, sift and compare the evidence of the most trustworthy native informants. the merits of the travellers we have named as observers and scholars are freely acknowledged by mr. max müller himself. to their statements, also, we can apply the criterion: does bleek's report from the bushmen and hottentots confirm castren's from the finns? does codrington in melanesia tell the same tale as gill in mangia or theal among the kaffirs? are all confirmed by charlevoix, and lafitau, and brebeuf, the old catholic apostles of the north american indians? if this be so, then we may presume that the inquirers have managed to extract true accounts from some of their native informants. the object of the inquiry, of course, is to find out, not what a few more educated and noble members of a tribe may think, nor what some original speculative thinker among a lower race may have worked out for himself, but to ascertain the general character of the ideas most popular and most widely prevalent among backward peoples. a third objection is that the priests of savage tribes are not unimpeachable authorities. it is pointed out that even christian clergy have their differences of opinion. naturally we expect most shades of opinion where there is most knowledge and most liberty, but the liberty of savage heterodoxy is very wide indeed. we might almost say that (as in the mythology of greece) there is _no_ orthodox mythical doctrine among savages. but, amidst minor diversities, we have found many ideas which are universal both in savage and civilised myths. _quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus_. it is on this universal element of faith, not on the discrepancies of local priests, that we must fix our attention. many a different town in greece showed the birthplace or tomb of this or that deity. the essential point is that all agreed in declaring that the god was born or died. once more--and this is a point of some importance when we are told that priests differ from each other in their statements--we must remember that these very differences are practically universal in all mythology, even in that of civilised races. thus, if one savage authority declares that men came originally out of trees, while his fellow-tribesman avers that the human race was created out of clay, and a third witness maintains that his first ancestors emerged from a hole in the ground, and a fourth stands to it that his stock is descended from a swan or a serpent, and a fifth holds that humanity was evolved from other animal forms, these savage statements appear contradictory. but when we find (as we do) precisely the same sort of contradictions everywhere recurring among civilised peoples, in greece, india, egypt, as well as in africa, america and australia, there seems no longer any reason to distrust the various versions of the myth which are given by various priests or chiefs. each witness is only telling the legend which he has heard and prefers, and it is precisely the coexistence of all these separate monstrous beliefs which makes the enigma and the attraction of mythology. in short, the discrepancies of savage myths are not an argument against the authenticity of our information on the topic, because the discrepancies themselves are repeated in civilised myth. _semper et ubique, et ab omnibus_. to object to the presence of discrepant accounts is to object to mythology for being mythological. another objection is derived from the "unwillingness of savages to talk about religion," and from the difficulty of understanding them when they do talk of it. this hardly applies when europeans are initiated into savage mysteries. we may add a fair example of the difficulty of learning about alien religions. it is given by garcilasso de la vega, son of an inca princess, and a companion of pizarro.*" * garcilaaso de la vega, royal commentaries, vol, i. . the method that our spaniards adopted in writing their histories was to ask the indians in spanish touching the things they wanted to find out from them. these, from not having a clear knowledge of ancient things, or from bad memories, told them wrong, or mixed up poetical fables with their replies. and the worst of it was that neither party had more than a very imperfect knowledge of the language of the other, so as to understand the inquiry and to reply to it.... in this great confusion, the priest or layman who asked the questions placed the meaning to them which was nearest to the desired answer, or which was most like what the indian was understood to have said. thus they interpreted according to their pleasure or prejudice, and wrote things down as truths which the indians never dreamt of. as an example of these comparisons, garcilasso gives the discovery of the doctrine of the trinity among the people of peru. a so-called _icona_ was found answering to the father, a son (_racab_) and a holy spirit (_estrua_); nor was the virgin lacking, nor even st. anne. "all these things are fictions of the spaniards." but no sooner has garcilasso rebuked the spaniards and their method, than he hastens to illustrate by his own example another difficulty that besets us in our search for evidence of myths. he says, as if it were a matter of certain fact, that tlasolteute, a kind of priapus, god of lust, and ometoctilti, god of drunkenness, and the god of murder, and the others, "were the names of _men and women_ whom the natives of that land worshipped as gods and goddesses". thus garcilasso euhemerises audaciously, as also does sahagun in his account of mexican religion. we have no right to assume that gods of natural departments (any more than dionysus and priapus and ares) had once been real men and were deified, on evidence like the statement of garcilassp. he is giving his own euhemeristic guess as if it were matter of fact, and this is a common custom with even the more intelligent of the early missionaries. another example of the natural difficulty in studying the myths of savages may be taken from mr. sproat's _scenes of savage life_ ( ). there is an honesty and candour in mr. sproat's work which by itself seems to clear this witness, at least, of charges of haste or prejudice. the religion of savages, says this inquirer, "is a subject as to which a traveller might easily form erroneous opinions, owing to the practical difficulty, even to one skilled in the language, of ascertaining the true nature of their superstitions. this short chapter is the result of more than four years' inquiry, made unremittingly, under favourable circumstances. there is a constant temptation, from which the unbiassed observer cannot be quite free, to fill up in one's mind, without proper material, the gap between what is known of the religion of the natives for certain, and the larger less-known portion, which can only be guessed at; and i frequently found that, under this temptation, i was led on to form, in my own mind, a connected whole, designed to coincide with some ingenious theory which i might wish to be true. generally speaking, it is necessary, i think, to view with suspicion _any very regular account_ given by travellers of the religion of savages." (yet we have seen the absence of "regularity," the differences of opinion among priests, objected to by mr. max müller as a proof of the untrustworthy nature of our evidence.) "the real religious notions of savages cannot be separated from the vague and unformed, as well as bestial and grotesque, mythology with which they are intermixed. the faint struggling efforts of our natures in so early or so little advanced a stage of moral and intellectual cultivation can produce only a medley of opinions and beliefs, not to be dignified by the epithet religious, which are held loosely by the people themselves, and are neither very easily discovered nor explained." when we came to civilised mythologies, we found that they also are "bestial and grotesque," "loosely held," and a "medley of opinions and beliefs ". mr. sproat was "two years among the ahts, with his mind constantly directed to the subject of their religious beliefs," before he could discover that they had any such beliefs at all. traders assured him that they had none. he found that the ahts were "fond of mystification" and of "sells"; and, in short, this inquirer, living with the ahts like an aht, discounted every sort of circumstance which could invalidate his statement of their myths.* * pp. - . now, when we find mr. codrington taking the same precautions in melanesia, and when his account of melanesian myths reads like a close copy of mr. sproat's account of aht legends, and when both are corroborated by the collections of bleek, and hahn, and gill, and castren, and eink, in far distant corners of the world, while the modern testimony of these scholarly men is in harmony with that of the old jesuit missionaries, and of untaught adventurers who have lived for many years with savages, surely it will be admitted that the difficulty of ascertaining savage opinion has been, to a great extent, overcome. if all the evidence be wrong, the coincidences of the witnesses with each other and of the savage myths they report with the myths of greeks and aryans of india will be no less than a miracle. we have now examined the objections urged against a system founded on the comparative study of savage myths. it cannot be said of us (as it has been said of de brosses), that "whatever we find in the voyages of sailors and traders is welcome to us; that we have a theory to defend, and whatever seems to support it is sure to be true". our evidence is based, to a very great extent, on the communications of missionaries who are acknowledged to be scholarly and sober men. it is confirmed by other evidence, catholic, dissenting, pagan, scientific, and by the reports of illiterate men, unbiassed by science, and little biassed by religion. but we have not yet exhausted our evidence, nor had recourse to our ultimate criterion. that evidence, that criterion, is derived from the study of comparative institutions, of comparative ritual, of comparative law, and of comparative customs. in the widely diffused rites and institutions which express themselves in actual practice we have sure evidence for the ideas on which the customs are founded. for example, if a man pays away his wampum, or his yams, or his arrow-heads to a magician for professional services, it follows that he _does_ believe in magic. if he puts to death a tribesman for the sin of marrying a woman to whom he was only akin by virtue of common descent from the same beast or plant, it seems to follow that he _does_ believe in descent from and kinship with plants and beasts. if he buries food and valuable weapons with his dead, it follows that he _does_, or that his fathers did, believe in the continued life of the dead. at the very least, in all three cases the man is acting on what must once have been actual beliefs, even if the consequent practices be still in force only through custom, after the real faith has dwindled away. thus the belief, past or present, in certain opinions can be deduced from actual practices, just as we may deduce from our own coronation service the fact that oil, anointed on a man's head by a priest, was once believed to have a mysterious efficacy, or the fact that a certain rough block of red sand-stone was once supposed to have some kind of sacredness. of all these sources of evidence, none is more valuable than the testimony of ritual. a moment's reflection will show that ritual, among any people, wild or civilised, is not a thing easily altered. if we take the savage, _his_ ritual consists mainly of the magical rites by which he hopes to constrain his gods to answer his prayers, though he may also "reveal" to the neophyte "our father". if we examine the greeks, we discover the same element in such rites as the attic thesmophoria, the torch-dance of demeter, the rainmaking on the arcadian mount lycæus, with many other examples. meanwhile the old heathen ritual survives in europe as rural folklore, and we can thus display a chain of evidence, from savage magic to greek ritual, with the folklore of germany, france, eussia and scotland for the link between these and our own time. this is almost our best evidence for the ancient idea about gods and their service. from the evidence of institutions, then, the evidence of reports may be supplemented. "the direct testimony," as m. darmesteter says, "heureusement peut-etre supplee par le temoignage indirect, celui qui porte sur les usages, les coutumes, l'ordre exterieur de la vie," everything that shows us religious faith embodied in action. now these actions, also, are only attested by the reports of travellers, missionaries and historians. but it is comparatively easy to describe correctly what is _done_, much more easy than to discover what is _thought_. yet it will be found that the direct evidence of institutions corroborates the less direct evidence as to thought and opinion. thus an uncommonly strong texture of testimony is woven by the coincidence of evidence, direct and indirect, ancient and modern, of learned and unlearned men, of catholics, protestants, pagans and sceptics. what can be said against that evidence we have heard. we have examined the objections based on "the influence of public opinion on travellers," on "the absence of recognised authorities among savages," on the discrepancies of the authorities who are recognised, on the "unwillingness of savages to talk of their religion," and on the difficulty of understanding them when they do talk of it. but after allowing for all these drawbacks (as every anthropologist worthy of the name will, in each case, allow), we have shown that there does remain a body of coincident evidence, of authority, now learned and critical, now uncritical and unlearned, which cannot be set aside as "extremely untrustworthy". this authority is accepted in questions of the evolution of art, politics, handicraft; why not in questions of religion? it is usually evidence given by men who did not see its tendency or know its value. a chance word in the veda shows us that a savage point of marriage etiquette was known to the poet. a sneer of theophrastus, a denunciation of ezekiel, an anecdote of herodotus, reveal to us the practices of contemporary savages as they existed thousands of years ago among races savage or civilised. a traveller's tale of melville or mandeville proves to be no mere "yarn," but completes the evidence for the existence in asia or the marquesas islands of belief and rites proved to occur in europe or india. such is the nature of the evidence for savage ideas, and for their survivals in civilisation; and the amount of the evidence is best known to him who has to plod through tracts, histories and missionary reports. transcriber's note this version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects. italics are delimited with the '_' character as _italic_. the 'oe' ligature is printed as separate characters. non-english language quotations are given as printed. passages in greek are transliterated, and denoted as [greek: athiopas toi ...]. footnotes have been consolidated and moved to directly follow the paragraph where they are referenced. in the printed version, footnotes were numbered consecutively, beginning anew with each chapter. here, they have been re-sequenced for uniqueness. references to those notes in the text and the transcriber's errata are to the new numbers. there are several footnotes that appear in other footnotes. these have been lettered as [a], [b], [c], and follow the note containing the reference. in a number of places, passages are compared by placing them in parallel columns, usually across several pages. the left hand column is given contiguously with a wide right margin, and then the right hand column, with a large left margin. on p. , four columns are used for comparison. each is given in turn, with no attempt to simulate the format. please see the notes at the end of this text for a more detailed list of specific issues encountered and the resolutions of each. tradition principally with reference to mythology and the law of nations. printed by ballantyne and company edinburgh and london tradition principally with reference to mythology and the law of nations. by lord arundell of wardour. london: burns, oates, & company, & portman street, and paternoster row. . contents. chap. page preface, ix memoir of colonel george macdonell, c.b., xix i. the law of nations, ii. the law of nature, iii. primitive life, iv. chronology from the point of view of tradition, v. chronology from the point of view of science, vi. palmer on egyptian chronology, vii. the tradition of the human race, viii. mythology, ix. assyrian mythology, x. the tradition of noah and the deluge, xi. diluvian traditions in africa and america, xii. sir john lubbock on tradition, xiii. noah and the golden age, xiv. sir h. maine on the law of nations, xv. the declaration of war, preface. i shall have no hope of conveying to the reader, within the narrow limits of a preface, any fuller idea of the purport of this work than its title expresses; and as the chapters are necessarily interdependent, i can indicate no short-cut in the perusal by which this information can be obtained. i venture to think that those who are interested in the special matters referred to will find something in these pages which may attract on account of its novelty--and some other things, new at least in their application--_e.g._ the comparison of boulanger's theory with the narratives of captain r. burton and catlin. the frequent introduction and the length of the notes, must, i am aware, give to these pages a repellent aspect, but the necessity of bringing various points under comparison has compelled this arrangement; and i regret to say that the argument runs through the whole, and that almost as much matter requiring consideration will be found in the notes and appendices as in the text. i trust that these imperfections may not be so great as to estrange the few, among whom only i can hope to find much sympathy, who wish to see the true foundations of peace and order re-established in the world, and who may therefore to some extent be indulgent towards efforts which have for their aim and motive the attempt to erect barriers which would render the recurrence of the evils which have lately deluged mankind difficult, if not impossible. there are others whom the recent scenes of horror have inspired with a love of peace and order, or of whom it would be more true to say, that the horrors of the late war and revolution have deepened in them the sentiment of peace and order which they have always entertained, but who still do not desire these things on the conditions upon which alone they can be secured. from them i can only ask such passing examination as may be demanded for the conscientious rejection of the evidence i have collected, or for its adjustment with more accepted theories. there will remain for me much ground in common with all who retain their faith in the inspiration of holy writ, and who wish to see its authority sustained against the aggressive infidelity of the day; and even among those who reject the authority of divine revelation, there may be still some who are wearied in the arid wastes, and who would gladly retrace their steps to the green pastures and the abundant streams. among such i may perhaps expect to find friendly criticism. at the same time, i do not disguise from myself that, in its present mood, the world is much more anxious to be cut adrift from tradition than to be held to its moorings; and that it will impatiently learn that fresh facts have to be considered before its emancipation can be declared, or before it can be let loose without the evident certainty of shipwreck. although the exigencies of the argument have compelled research over a somewhat extended field of inquiry, the exploration has no pretensions to being exhaustive, but at most suggestive; not attempting to work the mine, or, except incidentally, to produce the ore, but only indicating the positions in which it is likely to be found. in the main position of the mythological chapters, that the heroes of mythological legend embody the reminiscences of the characters and incidents of the biblical narrative, i do nothing more than carry on a tradition, as the reader will see in my references to calmet, bryant, palmer, and others.[ ] i should add, that i limit the full application of de maistre's theory to the times preceding the coming of our lord. [ ] it has curiously happened that i have never seen the work which, after bryant, would probably have afforded the largest repertory of facts--g. stanley faber's "dissertation on the mysteries of the cabiri;" and it is only recently, since these pages were in print, that i have become acquainted with davies' "celtic researches" and "the mythology and rites of the british druids." the celtic traditions respecting their god hu, are so important from more than one point of view, that i cannot forbear making the following extracts from the latter author, which i trust the reader will refer back to and compare in chap. ix. with the babylonian hoa, at p. with the chinese yu, and at p. with the african hu. davies' "celtic researches," p. , says, "though hu gadarn primarily denoted the supreme being [compare chap. ix.], i think his actions have a secondary reference to the history of noah. the following particulars are told of him in the above-cited selection:--( .) his branching or elevated oxen [compare p. and chap. xi.] ... at the deluge, drew the destroyer out of the water, so that the lake burst forth no more [compare chap. iv.] ( .) he instructed the primitive race in the cultivation of the earth [compare p. ]. ( .) he first collected and disposed them into various tribes [compare p. ]. ( .) he first gave laws, traditions, &c., and adapted verse to memorials [compare p. ]. ( .) he first brought the cymry into britain and gaul [compare p. ], because he would not have them possess lands by war and contention, but of right and peace" [compare chaps. xiii. and xv.] it is true that these traditions come to us in ballads attributed to welsh bards of the th and th centuries a.d.; but, as the rev. mr davies said, "that such a superstition should have been fabricated by the bards in the middle ages of christianity, is a supposition utterly irreconcileable with probability." and i think the improbability will be widely extended if the readers will take the trouble, after perusal, to make the references as above. my attention was first drawn to the coincidences of mythology with scriptural history by the late colonel g. macdonell.[ ] colonel macdonell's coincidences were founded upon a peculiar theory of his own, and must necessarily have been exclusively upon the lines of hebrew derivation. there is nothing, however, in these pages drawn from that source. i may add, for the satisfaction of colonel macdonell's friends, that as colonel macdonell's mss. exist, and are in the possession of colonel i. j. macdonell, i have (except at p. , when quoting from boulanger,) expressly excluded the consideration of the influence of the hebrew upon general tradition, which, however, will be necessary for the full discussion of the question. [ ] i have appended a short biographical notice of colonel g. macdonell, which i venture to think may contain matter of public interest. whatever, therefore, colonel macdonell may have written will remain over and above in illustration of the tradition. but whether on the lines of hebrew or primeval tradition, these views will inevitably run counter to the mythological theories now in the ascendant. these views, indeed, have been so long relegated to darkness, and perhaps appropriately, on account of their opposition to the prevalent solar theories, "flouted like owls and bats" whenever they have ventured into the daylight, that it will be with something amounting to absolute astonishment that the learned will hear that there are people who still entertain them: "itaque ea nolui scribere, quæ nec indocti intelligere possent, nec docti legere curarent" (cic. acad. quæs., . i. § ). i can sincerely say, however, that although my theories place me in a position of antagonism to modern science, yet that i have written in no spirit of hostility to science or the cause of science. i have throughout excluded the geological argument, for the first and sufficient reason that i am not a geologist; and secondly, by the same right and title, that geologists, _e.g._ sir c. lyell, in his "antiquity of man," ignores the arguments and facts to which i have directed special attention. nevertheless, i find that competent witnesses have come to conclusions not materially different from those which have been arrived at, on the ground of history, within their own department of geology. i have more especially in my mind the following passage from a series of papers, "on some evidences of the antiquity of man," by the rev. a. weld, in the _month_ ( ), written with full knowledge and in a spirit of careful and fair appreciation of the evidence. he says:-- "these evidences, such as they are, are fully treated in the work of sir c. lyell, entitled 'antiquity of man,' which exhausted the whole question as it stood, when the last edition was published in the year . it is worthy of note that though the conclusion at which the geologist arrives is hesitating and suggestive, rather than decisive, and though nothing of importance, as far as we are aware, has been added to the geological aspect of the question since that time--except that the reality of the discovery of human remains has been verified, and many additional discoveries of a similar character have been made--_still the opinion_, which was _then new and startling, has gradually gained ground_, until we find writers assuming as a thing that needs no further proof, that the period of man's habitation on the earth is to be reckoned in tens of thousands of years."--_the month_ (may and june ), p. . among various works, bearing on matters contained in these pages, which have come to hand during the course of publication, i may mention-- "the mythology of the aryan nations," by the rev. g. w. cox, referred to in notes at pp. , , . the third edition of sir john lubbock's "pre-historic times." mr e. b. tylor's "primitive culture," referred to in notes at pp. , , . mr st george mivart's "genesis of species." mr f. seebohm on "international reform." sir h. s. maine's "village communities." the archbishop of westminster's paper, read before the royal institution, "on the dæmon of socrates." "orsini's life of the blessed virgin," translated by the very rev. dr husenbeth. "hints and facts on the origin of man," by the very rev. dr p. melia, , who says (p. ), "considering the great length of life of the first patriarchs, moses must have had every information through non-interrupted tradition. if we reflect that shem for many years saw methuselah, a contemporary of adam, and that shem himself lived to the time of abraham, ... that abraham died after the birth of jacob, and that jacob saw many who were alive when moses was born, we see that a few generations connect moses not only with noah, but also with adam." i quote this passage as it is important to place in the foreground of this inquiry the unassailable truth that (apart from revelation) the historical account of the origin of the human race, to which all others converge, is consistent with itself, and bears intrinsic evidence of credibility. an analogous argument with reference to christian tradition was sketched in a lecture by mr edward lucas, and published in , "on the first two centuries of christianity." with reference to other parts of these pages, much supplemental matter will be found in-- "historical illustrations of the old testament," by the rev. g. rawlinson, m.a., camden prof., where, at pp. , , will be found direct testimony to what i had conjectured from indirect evidence at pp. , --viz., that the polynesian islanders "have a clear and distinct tradition of a deluge, from which one family only, _eight in number_, was saved in a canoe." also, but from a different point of view, in "legends of old testament characters," by rev. s. baring gould, m.a. the articles in the _tablet_ "on arbitration instead of war," to which i have referred in chap. xiv. at p. , have recently been collected and reprinted by lord robert montagu, m.p. if i have exceeded in quotation, i must direct my readers, for the defence of this mode of composition, from the point of view of tradition, to a work which i trust some in this busy age still find leisure to read, mr kenelm digby's "mores catholici," i. . i must, moreover, add a passage from the general preface to the recent republication of mr disraeli's works, which i came upon too late to introduce into the body of this book, but which i feel sure the reader, even if he has met with it before, will not be reluctant to reperuse:-- "the sceptical effects of the discoveries of science, and the uneasy feeling that they cannot co-exist with our old religious convictions have their origin in the circumstance that the general body who have suddenly become conscious of these physical truths are not so well acquainted as is desirable with the past history of man. astonished by their unprepared emergence from ignorance to a certain degree of information, their amazed intelligence takes refuge in the theory of what is conveniently called progress, and every step in scientific discovery seems further to remove them from the path of primæval inspiration. but there is no fallacy so flagrant as to suppose that the modern ages have the peculiar privilege of scientific discovery, or that they are distinguished as the epochs of the most illustrious inventions. on the contrary, scientific invention has always gone on simultaneously with the revelation of spiritual truths; and more, the greatest discoveries are not those of modern ages. no one for a moment can pretend that printing is so great a discovery as writing, or algebra as language. what are the most brilliant of our chemical discoveries compared with the invention of fire and the metals? it is a vulgar belief that our astronomical knowledge dates only from the recent century, when it was rescued from the monks who imprisoned galileo; but hipparchus, who lived before our divine master, and who, among other sublime achievements, discovered the precession of the equinoxes, ranks with the newtons and the keplers; and copernicus, the modern father of our celestial science, avows himself, in his famous work, as only the champion of pythagoras, whose system he enforces and illustrates. even the most modish schemes of the day on the origin of things, which captivate as much by their novelty as their truth, may find their precursors in ancient sages; and after a careful analysis of the blended elements of imagination and induction which characterise the new theories, they will be found mainly to rest on the atom of epicurus and the monad of thales. scientific, like spiritual truth, has ever from the beginning been descending from heaven to man. he is a being who organically demands direct relations with his creator, and he would not have been so organised if his requirements could not be satisfied. we may analyse the sun and penetrate the stars; but man is conscious that he is made in god's own image, and in his perplexity he will ever appeal to our father which art in heaven." memoir of colonel george macdonell, c.b. the following notice appeared in the _times_, may , --"in our obituary column of saturday we announced the death of colonel george macdonell, c.b., at the advanced age of ninety. this officer, who was a cadet of the ancient and loyal scottish house of macdonell of glengarry, was the son of an officer who served under the flag, and who, as we have been told, was on the staff, of prince charles edward stuart at the battle of culloden, where he was severely wounded. his son, the colonel now deceased, was born in , or early in the following year; obtained his first commission in , and was nominated a companion of the bath in . he saw active service in the war in north america with the th foot, and received the gold medal for the action at châteaugay; and had he not accepted the retirement a few years since, he would have been, at his death, almost the senior officer in the army holding her majesty's commission. the late colonel macdonell, who adhered to the roman catholic religion professed by his ancestors, and for which they fought so gallantly under the stuart banners, married, in , the hon. laura arundell, sister of the lord arundell of wardour, but was left a widower in may ." his son, colonel i. j. macdonell, now commands the st highlanders. i take this opportunity of adding a few facts, not without interest, to the above brief summary of a not uneventful life, as they might otherwise pass unrecorded. in the sentiment of the gaelic saying--"curri mi clach er do cuirn" (wilson, "archæol. scot.," p. )--"i will add a stone to your cairn." colonel macdonell's father, as stated in the above account, was wounded at culloden in the thigh, but was able to crawl on all-fours, after the battle, eighteen miles, to a barn belonging to a member of the grant family. he there remained in concealment for six months, leaving nature to heal the wound; but the search in the neighbourhood in time becoming too hot, he had to decamp, and walked with a stick all the way to newcastle, where he was not greatly re-assured by meeting a soldier who had just been drummed out of his regiment as a catholic, with the word "papist" placarded on his back. he, however, escaped all dangers, and reached hull, and subsequently versailles or st germains, where he remained three years, or at least till the events following the peace of aix-la-chapelle dispersed the prince's adherents. he then returned to england under the act of indemnity, entered the royal army, and was present with general wolfe at the taking of quebec. if i remember rightly, he had the good fortune to take an aide-de-camp of montcalm's prisoner, with important dispatches. colonel macdonell's maternal uncle, major macdonald (keppoch), was taken prisoner at the battle of falkirk. he was said to have been the first man who drew blood in the war. by a curious revenue of fortune, he was carried back into the enemy's ranks by the horse of a trooper whom he had captured. he was executed at carlisle, and the circumstances of his execution supplied sir walter scott, i believe, with the incidents which he worked up into the narrative of macivor's execution in "waverley." his sword is in the possession of mr p. howard of corby castle, near carlisle. fortune, however, had in store another revenge; for the duke of cumberland being present, many years afterwards, at a ball at bath, by a most unhappy selection indicated as the person with whom he wished to dance a beautiful girl who turned out to be no other than the daughter of major macdonald (afterwards married to mr chichester of calverley) the circumstances of whose execution have just been referred to. she rose in deference to royalty, but replied, in a tone which utterly discomfited, and put his royal highness to flight--"no, i will never dance with the murderer of my father!" with these antecedents, it is needless to add that colonel g. macdonell was a warm admirer of the stuarts, and not unnaturally extended his sympathy and adhesion to the kindred cause of legitimacy in france; and the one event to which he always looked forward, and confidently predicted--the restoration of the monarchy in the person of henri v.--is now, if not imminent, at least "the more probable of possible events." there was, however, a belief which somewhat conflicted in his mind with the above anticipation--namely, his unshaken conviction that the dauphin did not die in the temple. he was frequently at holyrood when the palace was occupied by charles x., and he accompanied the duchess de berri to the place of embarkation for her unfortunate expedition to france. colonel macdonell also acted as the medium of communication between the french royalists and the english government; and on one important occasion conveyed intelligence to lord bathurst or lord sidmouth respecting the movements of the secret societies in spain in some hours before it reached them by the ordinary channel. part of the communication was made on information supplied by the abbé barruel; and in reply, lord sidmouth said--"well, i remember edmund burke telling me that he believed every word that barruel had written, and i fully accept the authority." colonel macdonell was under the impression that he was unwittingly and remotely the cause of the break up of the ministry of "all the talents." as this is an obscure point in history, it may be worth while to give the following facts. the impression produced by marengo and austerlitz had led to the army reform bill of , in which the points discussed were almost identical with those which lately excited the public mind. the disasters which accompanied our descent on egypt in , and the consequent evacuation of alexandria, created considerable discontent and re-opened the question, and as further reforms on minor points were contemplated, suggestions from officers in the army were invited. colonel macdonell (then only lieutenant), wrote to mr windham, the secretary at war, to point out that any broken attorney might create considerable embarrassment at any critical moment, seeing that, as the law then stood (an act of george i. had extended the obligation of taking the sacrament to privates), any soldier could obtain, if not his own, his comrade's discharge by pointing him out as a papist. the danger was recognised, and mr windham brought in a bill directed to meet the case, but its introduction revived the larger question of the repeal of the tests' acts and of the catholic claims; and the discussion eventuated in lord howick's bill, which was met by the king's refusal, and the consequent resignation of the ministry. this may explain the statement (mentioned in the obituary notice in the times of the marquis of lansdowne), that he (lord lansdowne) could never understand how the ministry came to be dissolved. "he had heard instances of men running their heads against a wall, but never of men building up a wall against which to run their heads."[ ] [ ] sir h. lytton bulwer, in his "life of lord palmerston," says, i. p. , "there has seldom happened in this country so sudden and unexpected a change of ministers as that which took place in march ." it has been mentioned that colonel macdonell entered the army when quite a boy; and there were few men, i fancy, living, when he died last year, who could boast, as he could, of having served in the duke of york's campaign in the last century, but i am not able to state in what regiment. he was for some time previously in lord darlington's regiment of fencibles. he was at one period in the th, and at another in the th regiment, in which latter, i think, he went out to the west indies and canada. it was in canada, however, that his principal services were rendered, which indeed were considerable, and have never been adequately acknowledged. when the americans invaded canada upon the declaration of war in , it is hardly necessary to remind the reader that almost all our available troops were engaged in the peninsula, and that canada was pretty well left to its own resources. under these circumstances it will be recognised as of some importance that colonel macdonell was able to raise a regiment among the macdonells of his clan who had settled there. but the conditions made with him were not fulfilled, and the command of the regiment, almost immediately after it was raised, was transferred to the command of a protestant and an orangeman, which caused a mutiny which was with difficulty suppressed. now, it must be borne in mind that the regiment was only raised through his personal influence with the clan, and through that of its pastor, bishop macdonell, and that the adhesion of the catholic macdonells went far to determine the attitude of the french canadians also. there were not more than regular troops in upper canada during the war.[ ] [ ] w. james, "military occurrences of late war," i. , says, regular troops; murray, "history of british america," i. , says, troops. before referring to the actions in which colonel macdonell was engaged, i will add the following particulars as to the highland settlement which colonel macdonell gave me. in , the submission of the highland chiefs to the house of hanover having been of some standing, and their adhesion being, moreover, cemented in a common sentiment of abhorrence of the french revolution, they were willingly induced to raise regiments among their clans. this was done by glengarry, macleod, and others. at the peace these regiments were disbanded, but finding that complications of various sorts had necessarily arisen during their absence respecting their lands and holdings at home, and, in point of fact, that they had no homes to return to, the greater part remained temporarily domiciled at glasgow, the place of their disbandment. i infer that they remained under the charge and direction of bishop macdonell, who had accompanied them in their campaigns as chaplain, and was the first catholic priest officially recognised in the capacity of regimental chaplain. at glasgow (previously only served as a flying mission), he hired a storehouse, which he opened as a chapel, but stealthily only, as two of the congregation were always posted as a guard at the entrance on sunday. he found only eighteen catholics at glasgow at that time, i.e., i suppose, previously to the disbandment of the highlanders. through bishop macdonell's influence with lord sidmouth--who, although a strong opponent of the catholic claims, always acted in his relations with him, he said, in the most honourable and straightforward way--the emigration of the highlanders to canada was shortly afterwards arranged. colonel macdonell was subsequently partially reinstated in his command of the glengarry regiment. the important services rendered by colonel macdonell in canada, to which i have alluded, were-- . the taking of ogdensburg at a critical moment, on his own responsibility, and contrary to orders, which had the effect of diverting the american attack from upper canada at a moment when it was entirely undefended; and, . bringing the regiment of french canadian militia, then temporarily under his command, from kingston, by a forced run down the rapids of the st lawrence without pilots (passing the point where lord amherst lost eighty men), in time enough (he arrived the day before, unknown to the americans) to support de saluberry at the decisive action at chateaugay. de saluberry indeed had only french canadians under his command, which, with the brought up by colonel macdonell, only made up a force of (with about indians), with which to check general hampton's advance with some (the americans stated the force at infantry and cavalry, james, i. ) in his advance on montreal. in point of fact, colonel macdonell must be considered, on any impartial review of the facts, to have won the day (_vide infra_), yet he was not even mentioned in sir g. prevost's dispatch. colonel macdonell received the companionship of the bath for the taking of ogdensburg, and the gold medal for his conduct in the action at chateaugay. i append the following accounts of the affairs at ogdensburg and chateaugay, adding a few particulars in correction and explanation--alison, "history of europe," xix. ( th ed.), says--"shortly after colonel m'donnell (macdonell), with two companies of the glengarry fencibles, and two of the th, converted a _feigned_ attack which he was ordered to make on fort ogdensburg into a real one. the assault was made under circumstances of the utmost difficulty; deep snow impeded the assailants at every step, and the american marksmen, from behind their defences, kept up a very heavy fire; but the gallantry of the british overcame every obstacle, and the fort was carried, with _eleven guns, all its stores_, and _two armed schooners_ in the harbour." the difficulties, as i have understood from colonel macdonell, were not so much from the impediments of the snow, as from the dangerous state of the st lawrence at the time, the ice literally waving under the tramp of his men as he passed them over (ten paces apart). the stroke of the axe, by which they judged, told it indeed to be only barely safe, and it had never been crossed by troops before at that point, as it was deemed insecure, being within three miles of the gallops rapids. (among the guns were some taken from general burgoyne.) a fuller account of the taking of ogdensburg may be read in mr w. james' "full and correct account of the military occurrences of the late war between great britain and the united states of america," vol. i. p. - : london, ; he adds, "previously to dismissing the affair at ogdensburg it may be right to mention that sir g. prevost's secretary, or some person who had the transcribing of major (colonel) macdonnell's (macdonell's) official letter, must have inserted by mistake the words 'in consequence of the commands of his excellency.' of this there needs no stronger proof than that major (colonel) macdonnell (macdonell) while he was in the heat of the battle, received a private note from sir g. dated from 'flint's inn at o'clock,' repeating his orders not to make the attack; and even in the first private letter which sir g. wrote to major macdonnell (colonel macdonell) after being informed of his success, he could not help qualifying his admiration of the exploit with a remark that the latter had _rather_ exceeded his instructions--(_note._--both of these letters the author has seen"), vol. i. . colonel macdonell's explanation to me of his taking this responsibility on himself was simply that he saw that the fate of the whole of upper canada depended upon it. colonel macdonell had received information that american troops were moving up in the direction of ogdensburg, and they, in fact, came up a week after it was taken, under general pike; but seeing the altered aspect of affairs, they moved off, and fell back upon sackett's harbour, anticipating a similar attack at that point. colonel macdonell always spoke with much emotion of the gallant conduct of a captain jenkins, a young officer under his command, who, although he had both arms shattered by two successive shots, struggled on at the head of his men until he swooned. he survived some years, but died of the overcharge of blood to the head consequent on the loss of his limbs. as ogdensburg was a frontier town on the american side of the st lawrence, sir g. prevost authorised payment for any plunder by the troops, but colonel macdonell received a certificate from the inhabitants that they had not lost a single shilling--which must be recorded to the credit of the glengarry highlanders under his command. as i have already said, although colonel macdonell commanded the larger force, and by an independent command, at the action of chateaugay, his name is not mentioned in sir g. prevost's dispatch, nor in alison, who apparently follows the official account (xix. , th ed.) in alison, de saluberry is called, by a clerical error, de salavary--such, after all, is fame! saith hyperion. although his troops, raw levies, broke, and colonel de saluberry was virtually a prisoner when colonel macdonell came up to the support, it was through no fault of his disposition of his men--(colonel macdonell always spoke of him as an excellent officer, who behaved on the occasion in the most noble and intrepid manner). the american troops at chateaugay are variously stated at to (alison says, " effective infantry and militia, and guns," xix. ). the british, french canadian militia, under de saluberry; under colonel macdonell, and some indians, without artillery. a full, but, colonel macdonell said, inaccurate account (from imperfect information) will be found in mr w. james' "military occurrences," above referred to. i extract the following passages, i. :--"the british advanced corps, stationed near the frontiers, was commanded by lieutenant-colonel de saluberry of the canadian fencibles, and consisted of the two flank companies of that corps and four companies of voltigeurs, and six flank companies of embodied militia and chateaugay chasseurs, placed under the immediate orders of lieutenant-colonel macdonell, late of the glengarrys, who so distinguished himself at ogdensburg. the whole of this force did not exceed rank and file. there were also at the post indians under captain lamotte." colonel macdonell's account differed substantially. it has been already mentioned that he had brought up his troops by a forced march the night before, and held them under a separate command. i conclude with the following passage as bearing out colonel macdonell's version:--"the americans, although they did not occupy one foot of the 'abatis,' nor lieutenant-colonel de saluberry retire one inch from the ground on which he had been standing, celebrated this partial retiring as a retreat.... by way of animating his little band when thus momentarily _pressed_" [colonel macdonell's version was, that although the troops were driven back, colonel de saluberry literally "refused to retire one inch himself," and virtually remained a prisoner until--] colonel de saluberry ordered the bugleman to sound "the advance. this was heard by lieutenant-colonel macdonell, who thinking the colonel was in want of support, caused his own bugles to answer, and immediately advanced with two ['six'] of his companies. he at the same time sent ten or twelve buglemen into the adjoining woods with orders to separate ['widely'], and blow with all their might. this little 'ruse de guerre' led the americans to believe that they had more thousands than hundreds to contend with, and deterred them from even attempting to penetrate the 'abatis.'" for the rest of the account i must refer my readers to mr w. james' "history," as above; though, if a complete and accurate account of an engagement which probably saved british canada were ever thought desirable, colonel macdonell's commentaries (ms.) on the above and the official accounts, would afford valuable supplementary information.[ ] [ ] the following corrections have been supplied to me by the hon. l. d.:--"lieut.-colonel george macdonell was born on the th august , at st johns, newfoundland, where his father, captain macdonell, was stationed. he was the second son of captain macdonell (who had been one of the body-guard of prince charles), by his wife, miss leslie of fetternear, aberdeenshire. george was rated on the navy by the admiral of the station, who was a personal friend of captain macdonell, and his name accordingly remained on the list for years, but he never joined. i believe he entered in the regiment raised by lord darlington, and afterwards served with the duke of york in the war in holland. he was, i know, at one time in the th infantry, for i remember sir greathed harris saying that he was always a well-remembered and honoured officer in that regiment. he ultimately had the post of inspecting field-officer in canada." tradition principally with reference to mythology and the law of nations. tradition principally with reference to mythology and the law of nations. chapter i. _the law of nations._ the increasing number of essays, pamphlets, works, and reviews of works on speculative subjects, with which the literature of england at present teems, compels the conclusion that the public mind has been greatly unsettled or strangely transformed since the days when john bull was the plain matter-of-fact old gentleman that washington irving pleasantly described him. remembering the many sterling and noble qualities whimsically associated with this practical turn of mind, it will be felt by many to be a change for the worse. but if old english convictions, maxims, and ways of thought have lost their meaning; if in fine it is true that the mind of england has become unsettled, it says much for the practical good sense of englishmen that they should have overcome their natural repugnances, and should so earnestly turn to the discussion of these questions, not indeed with the true zest for speculation, but in the practical conviction that it is in this arena that the battle of the constitution must be fought. there is, as it has been truly observed,[ ] "an instinctive feeling that any speculation which affects this" (the speculation in question being the effect of the darwinian theory on conscience), "must also affect, sooner or later, the practical principles and conduct of men in their daily lives. this naturally comes much closer to us than any question as to the comparative nearness of our kinship to the gorilla or the orang can be expected to do. _no great modification of opinion takes place with respect to the moral faculties, which does not ultimately and in some degree modify the ethical practice and political working of the society in which it comes to prevail._" [ ] _pall mall gazette_, april , ; article, "mr darwin on conscience." there is perhaps no question which lies more at the root of political constitutions, and which must more directly determine the conduct of states in their relations to each other, than the question whether or not, or in what sense, there was such a thing as natural law, _i.e._ a law antecedent to the formation of individual political societies, and which is common to and binding on them all. it may be worth while, therefore, to examine whether a stricter discrimination may not be made between things which are sometimes confounded, viz.:--the law of nations and international law, natural law and the state of nature; and even if the attempt at discrimination should fail in exactitude, it may yet, by opening out fresh views, contribute light to minds of greater precision, who may thus be enabled to hit upon the exact truth. this view was partially exposed in an article which was inserted in the _tablet_, september , ,[ ] entitled "international law and the law of nations," and, all things considered, i do not think that i can better consult the interests of my readers, than by reproducing an extract from it here, as a convenient basis of operation from which to advance into a somewhat unexplored country:-- "it has been the fashion since bentham's[ ] time, to substitute the phrase 'international law' for the 'law of nations,' as if they were convertible terms. the substitution, however, covers a distinction sufficiently important. "the 'law of nations' is an obligation which binds the consciences of nations to respect the eternal principle of justice in their relations with each other. 'international law' is the system of rules, precedents, and maxims accumulated in recognition of the eternal law. but as men may build a theatre or a gambling-house upon the foundations constructed for a religious edifice, and upon a stone consecrated for an altar, so has it been possible for diplomacy to substitute a system of chicanery for the simple laws which were intended to facilitate the intercourse of nations, and with such effect as in a great number of cases to place international law in contradiction with the law of nations--as, for instance, when in a certain case the law of nations says that it is wrong to invade a neighbour's territory, international law is made to say that it is lawful to invade in such a case, because such-and-such monarchs in past history have done so. "practically the effect of the substitution is, that the sentiment of justice disappears, that wars which formerly were called unjust, are now called inevitable, so that good men, disheartened at the conflicting evidence of precedents, yield their sense of right and wrong, and defer to the adjudication of diplomatists. this is particularly satisfactory to the modern spirit which will admit nothing to be law which is superior to, and distinct from, that which the human intellect has determined to be law. "but the sense of right and wrong in good men is that which gives its whole efficacy to the law of nations. there is nothing else in the last resort, to restrain the ambition and passion of princes, but the reprobation of mankind--nothing but the fear of invading that "moral territory"[ ] which even bad men find it necessary to conquer, '_dans l'ame des peuples ses voisins_.' on the other hand, the whole mass of precedents to which diplomatists appeal, which are rarely carefully collated with those which legists have accumulated and digested, is nothing but a veil which thinly covers the supremacy of might and the right of force. "in fact, the conventional deference which is paid to them, is at best only the hypocritical homage which force is constrained to pay to justice before it strikes its blow. "international law, therefore, as _accumulated in the precedents of diplomatists_, is a parasitical growth upon that tree which has its roots in the hearts of nations, and which may be compared to one of those old oaks under which kings used to sit and administer justice. it was a dream of dodwell's that the 'law of nations was a divine revelation made to the family preserved in the ark.' in the grotesqueness and wildness of this theory we detect a true idea. the law of nations is an unwritten law, tradited in the memories of the people, or, so far as it is written, to be found in the works of writers on public law, like grotius, whose authorities, as sir j. mackintosh remarks, are in great part, and very properly, made up of the sayings of the poets and orators of the world, 'for they address themselves to the general feelings and sympathies of mankind.' it is in this that the scriptural saying about the people is so true--'but they will maintain the state of the world.' and it is a just observation, that 'the people are often wrong in their opinions, but in their sentiments rarely.' you may produce state papers and manifestoes, written with all the dexterity of talleyrand, and the lying tact of fouché, but you will not convince the people. you have your opportunity. the liberal press of europe, at this moment, may be said to be in possession of the whole field of political literature; nevertheless, nothing will prevent its being recorded in history,[ ] that victor emmanuel in seizing upon the patrimony of st peter was a robber, and his conquest an usurpation." [ ] this article, and perhaps four or five others on miscellaneous subjects, written within a few weeks of the above date, were my only contributions to the _tablet_, at that time owned and edited by my friend mr j. e. wallis, who, during some ten or twelve eventful years, continued to uphold the standard of tradition, with singular ability and at great personal sacrifice. [ ] "all that bentham wrote on this subject ("international law") is comprised within a comparatively small compass (works, vol. ii. - , iii. - , ix. - ). but it would be unpardonable to omit all mention of a science which he was the means of _revolutionising_, and which, previously to his taking it in hand, had _not even received a proper distinctive name_."--john hill burton, "benthamiana," p. . from bentham's point of view, "international law" is the proper distinctive name. [ ] montalembert, _correspondant_, aout, . [ ] c'est une des plus admirables choses de ce monde que jamais nul empire, et nul succès n'ont pu s'assujetir l'histoire et en imposer par elle à la posterité. des generations de rois issus du même sang se sont succédé pendant dix siècles au gouvernement du même peuple, et malgré cette perpetuité d'intérêt et de commandement, ils n'ont pu couvrir aux yeux du monde les fautes de leurs pères et maintenir sur leur tombe le faux éclat de leur vie.--_lacordaire_: vid. _correspondant_, nov. . i have observed that international law is the more appropriate term from bentham's point of view, and as bentham is the most redoubtable opponent of natural right and the law of nations, i will quote him at some length:-- "another man says that there is an eternal and immutable rule of right, and that that rule of right dictates so-and-so. and then he begins giving you his sentiments upon anything that comes uppermost; and these sentiments (you are to take it for granted) are so many branches of the eternal rule of right.... a great multitude of people are continually talking of the law of nature; and they go on giving you their sentiments about what is right and what is wrong, and these sentiments, you are to understand, are so many chapters and sections of the law of nature. instead of the phrase, law of nature, you have sometimes law of reason, right reason, natural justice, natural equity, good order. any of them will do equally well. this latter is most used in politics. the three last are much more tolerable than the others, because they do not very explicitly claim to be anything more than phrases. they insist, but feebly, upon the being looked upon as so many positive standards of themselves, and seem content to be taken, upon occasion, for phrases expressive of the conformity of the thing in question to the proper standard, whatever that may be. on most occasions, however, it will be better to say utility--utility is clearer, as referring more especially to pain and pleasure." in truth, although mr bentham indulges a pleasant ridicule, yet the ridicule and the thing ridiculed being eliminated, the fact that there is a belief in a law of nature remains untouched. it is probable, therefore, that appeals will be frequent to what is believed to be "the eternal and immutable rule of right," "to the law of nature," &c., _i.e._ each and every individual, all mankind distributively, so appeal, because there is a deep conviction among mankind, severally and collectively, that there is this eternal and immutable rule of right, blurred and obscured though it may be, or concealed behind a cloud of human passion and error: and most men, moreover, will have an instinct which will tell them when an individual is substituting his own ideas for the eternal and immutable law,--as, for instance, when at the conclusion of the sentence quoted, mr bentham seeks to substitute his own peculiar crochet, as embodied in the word "utility" (which may be used indifferently in the sense of the absolute or relative, the supernatural or the natural, the immediate or the remote utility), as synonymous with "natural justice," "natural equity," and "good order." so, again, when mr bentham comes to the discussion of "international law," after pointing out, very properly, that whereas internal laws have always a super-ordinate authority to enforce them, "that when nations fall into disputes there is no such super-ordinate impartial authority to bind them to conformity with any fixed rules," mr bentham goes on to say, "though there is no distinct official authority capable of enforcing right principles of international law, there is a power bearing with more or less influence on the conduct of all nations, as of all individuals, however transcendently potent they may be, this is the power of public opinion." public opinion! not then of public opinion threatening coercion, for in that case we should have "a super-ordinate impartial authority binding to conformity with fixed rules," but public opinion as a moral expression. if, however, you take from it the expression of right and wrong, of natural justice, and of the eternal and immutable law; if its expression is not reprobation, and, so to speak, a fore-judgment of the retribution of the most high, but only dissatisfaction or the mere pronouncement of the inutility of the action, whatever it may be, what even with benthamites can be its efficacy and worth? the vanquished say to their conqueror, the multitudes to their oppressor, this oppression is not according to utility. utility! he replies, useful to whom? to you! fancy the look of prince bismarck as he would reply to such an address. what are men if you take away the notion of right and wrong but "the flies of a summer?" how different was the expression of napoleon after his ill-usage of pius vii., "j'ai frissonè les nations." napoleon had a conscience,[ ] and in his moments of calm reflection felt in its full force the reprobation of mankind. [ ] _vide_ "sentiment de napoleon i. sur le christianisme," d'apres des temoignages recueillis par feu le chevalier de beauterne. nouvelle edition, par m. ----; bray, paris, . when bentham, still speaking of public opinion, adds:-- "the power in question has, it is true, various degrees of influence. the strong are better able to put it at defiance than the weak. countries which, being the most populous, are likely also to be the strongest, carry a certain support of public opinion with all their acts _whatever they may be_. but still it is the only power which can be moved to good purposes in this case; and, however high some may appear to be above it, there are in reality none who are not more or less subject to its influence." here bentham is again in imagination gathering men together like the flies of a summer,--the force of their opinion depending on their numbers. but what, again, is the force of all this buzzing if it is the mere expression of "pleasure," or "pain," of satisfaction or dissatisfaction in the masses? conquerors may not always be relentless, they may at times exhibit some sympathy with their fellow men; but as a rule they are so dominated by some one idea or passion, or at best are so absorbed in the interests of their own people, as to be deaf to such appeals. prince bismarck's sentiments towards france during the late war are pretty well known; but it is said that after the conflict was over, and when france was in the throes of its terrible internecine conflict, he was asked, "what is your excellency's opinion of the present state of france?" he replied, "das ist mit ganz wurst," which is equivalent to "i don't care two straws about it."[ ] how are men of this stamp to be affected by any exclamations of pleasure or pain? if on the contrary it is the voice of reprobation which they hear, and if in their case the saying "vox populi vox dei" is felt to have its full application, there is then a public opinion expressed which is calculated to strike the conscience and inspire terror, and that is quite another matter. [ ] _neue freie presse_ of vienna. _pall mall gazette_, may , . de tocqueville, from his own point of view, puts the argument in favour of natural justice very forcibly, and in a certain construction would express the identical truth for which i contend. "i hold it to be an impious and an execrable maxim that, politically speaking, a people has a right to do whatever it pleases; and yet i have asserted that all authority originates in the will of the majority. am i, then, in contradiction with myself? a general law which bears the name of justice has been made and sanctioned, not only by a majority of this or that people, but by a majority of mankind. the rights of every people are consequently confined within the limits of what is just. a nation may be considered in the light of a jury which is empowered to represent society at large, and to apply the great general law of justice. ought such a jury, which represents society, to have more power than the society in which the laws it applies originate."--_m. de tocqueville's "democracy in america_," ii. . although m. de tocqueville's view does not go to the full length of the argument, still, regarded in this light, the voice of the majority of mankind, or of any large masses of mankind, has a very different significance from what it bears in the writings of bentham. let us now consider the doctrines of bentham in their more recent exposition. the _pall mall gazette_, oct. , , says:-- "laws have been described as definitions of pre-existing rights, relations between man and man, reflections of divine ordinances, anything but what they really are,--forms of organised constraint. it says little for the assumed clear-headedness of englishmen, that they have very generally preferred the ornate jargon of hooker, to the accurate and intelligible account of law and government which forms the basis of bentham's juridical system." it says much, however, for their strong political sense and sagacity. if this is the true and only description of law, it is tantamount to saying that law is force and force is law; in other words, that the commands of a legitimate government need not be regarded when it is weak, but that the enactments of power must always be obeyed, however it is acquired, and whether its decrees are in accordance with right or contrary to justice. it is a ready justification for tyranny, equally sanctioning the "lettres de cachet" of the ancient regime, and the proscriptions of the convention, equally at hand for the national assembly at versailles, or for the commune at paris. but however much it may be disguised, it is the only alternative definition of law, when once you say that law is not of divine ordinance and tradition. if no regard is to be had to the definition of right, but the term law is to be applied to any adequate act of repression, there is in truth nothing but force. yet why should force adequate to its purpose seek to cloak itself in the forms of law? i suppose the question must have been put and answered before; but the answer can only be because law is felt to import a totally different set of ideas from force. it is necessary, more especially now that the utilitarian theory is dominant, to enter a protest according to the turn the argument may take, but in the end nothing more can be said than was said by cicero in the century before our lord:-- "est enim unum jus, quo devincta est hominum societas, et quod lex constituit una; quæ lex est recta ratio imperandi atque prohibendi: quam qui ignorat is est injustus, sive est illa scripta uspiam, sive nusquam. quod si justitia est obtemperatio scriptis legibus institutisque populorum, et si, ut iidem dicunt utilitate omnia metienda sunt, negliget leges, easque perrumpit, si poterit, is, qui sibi eam rem fructuosam putabit fore. ita fit, ut nulla sit omnino justitia; si neque naturâ est, eaque propter utilitatem constituitur, utilitate alia convellitur."--_de legibus_, i. . it is only upon this construction that the law of nations can be said to exist, as "there is no superordinate authority to enforce it." it is accordingly asserted that the law of nations is not really law. but is not this only when it is regarded from the point of view of "organised constraint?"[ ] if it is regarded as a divine ordinance, or even as under the divine sanction, then it is law in a much higher degree than simple internal or municipal law, for it more immediately and directly depends upon this sanction; and hence nations may more confidently appeal to heaven for the redress of wrong _here below_ than individuals--seeing that, as bossuet somewhere says, god rewards and chastises nations in this world, since it is not according to his divine dispensation to reward them corporately in the next. [ ] "utiles esse autem opiniones has quis neget, quum intelligat quam multa firmentur jure jurando, quantæ salutis sint f[oe]derum religiones? quam multos divini supplicii metus a scelere revocaverit? quamque sancta sit societas civium inter ipsos diis immortalibus interpositis tum judicibus tum testibus?"--cicero, _de legibus_, ii. . more recently, however, the extraordinary successes and subversions which we have witnessed during this last year, have brought the _pall mall gazette_ face to face with problems pressing for immediate and anxious settlement; and in a series of articles it has discussed the question of the law of nations with much depth and earnestness. i there observe phrases which i can hardly distinguish from those i have just employed. combating mr mill's view, the writer says:-- "nobody knows better than he that international law is not really law, and why it is not law; but he seems to have jumped to the conclusion that it is therefore the same thing as morality.... there cannot, in truth, be any closer analogy than that which we drew the other day between the law of nations and the law of honour, and between public war and private duelling." [this is upon an assumption that there is nothing "essentially immoral in the code of honour," as "to a great extent it coincided with morality."] "but it differed from simple morality in that its precepts were enforced, not by general disapprobation, but by a challenge to the offender by anybody who supposed himself to be aggrieved by the offence. the possible result always was, that the champion of the law might himself be shot, and this was the weakness of the system. but this is exactly the weakness of international law, and the _original idea_ at the _basis_ both of _public war_ and of private duelling was precisely the same,--_that god almighty somehow interposed_ in favour of the combatant _who had the juster cause_. there is clear historical evidence that the feuds which became duels were supposed to be fought out under divine supervision, _just as battles_ were believed to be decided by the god of battles." i believe that if history could be re-written from this point of view that many startling revelations would be brought to light. it is with reluctance that i turn from the points upon which i approach to agreement with the writer, to those upon which we fundamentally differ. and here i must remark, that "the accurate and intelligible account of law and government which forms the basis of bentham's juridical system"[ ] (_supra_, p. ), is not distinguishable from, and in any case ultimately depends upon, his theory of utility as a foundation, or, as his later disciples say, a "standard" of morals. such a standard is the negation of all morality; and if it ever came to stand alone every notion of morals would be obliterated, because, being open to every interpretation, and incapable of supplying any definite rule itself, it would abrogate every other, and under a plausible form abandon mankind to its lusts and passions. [ ] "from _utility_, then, we may denominate a principle that may serve to preside over and govern, as it were, such arrangements as shall be made of the several institutions, or combinations of institutions, that compose the matter of this science." bentham's "fragment on government," xliii., and at p. , the principle of utility is declared "all-sufficient," ... that "principle which furnishes us with that reason, which alone depends not upon any higher reason, but which is itself the _sole and all-sufficient reason_ for _every point_ of practice whatsoever." in the _pall mall gazette_, april , , an article entitled "mr darwin on conscience," discusses benthamism with reference to darwinism. there is a fitness in this which does not immediately appear. the writer says:-- "what is called the question of the moral sense is really two: how the moral faculty is acquired, and how it is regulated. why do we obey conscience or feel pain in disobeying it? and why does conscience prescribe _one kind_ of actions and condemn another kind? to put it more technically, there is the question of the subjective existence of conscience, and there is the question of its objective prescriptions." i will avail myself of this distinction, and, setting aside the questions referring to the "subjective existence of conscience," i will ask attention only to "its objective prescriptions." assuming, then, the operations of conscience in the individual man, there will necessarily also have been in the course of history some outward expression of this inward feeling in maxims, precepts, and laws, if not also reminiscences of primeval revelations and divine commands. it will be true, therefore, to say, without touching the deeper question of the foundation of morals, that there has been a tradition of morals which cannot but have had its influence in all ages upon the "social feelings" in which, according to the _pall mall gazette_, "it will always be necessary to lay the basis of conscience." now is this tradition of morals identical with utilitarian precept? if the tradition of morals is identical with "the greatest happiness principle," then that principle was no discovery of bentham's,[ ] neither can benthamism be regarded as "the new application of an old principle." bentham in that case simply informed mankind that they had been talking prose all their lives without knowing it! benthamism, however, in point of fact, is felt as a new principle precisely in so far as it discards the old morality. the question which i ask is, how does it account for these old notions of morality obtaining among mankind? how is it that mankind has so long and so persistently, both in their notion of what was good and their sense of what was evil, departed from the line of their true interests, as disclosed in the utilitarian philosophy? if the history of man is what the scriptures tell us it was, the manner in which this has come about is sufficiently explained; and there is no mystery as to the notion of sin, the necessity of expiation, the restraints and limitations of natural desires, the excellence of contemplation, and the obligation of sacrifices and prayers. now, if the history of mankind is not to be invoked in explanation, it is difficult to see how these notions should not conflict with any theory and plan of life based on a principle of utility.[ ] it is not unnatural, therefore, that the utilitarians should turn to darwinism and other such kindred systems for the solution of their difficulties. [ ] bentham speaks of his enunciation of "the greatest happiness principle" in the following terms:--"throughout the whole horizon of morals and of politics, the consequences were glorious and vast. it might be said without danger of exaggeration, that they who sat in darkness had seen a great light." with reference to this lord macaulay says, "we blamed the utilitarians for claiming the credit of a discovery, when they had merely stolen that morality (the morality of the gospel) and spoiled it in the stealing. they have taken the precept of christ _and left the motive_, and they demand the praise of a most wonderful and beneficial invention, when all they have done has been to make a most useful maxim useless _by separating it from its sanction. on religious principles_ it is true that every individual will best promote his own happiness by promoting the happiness of others. _but if religious considerations be left out of the question it is not true._ if we do not reason on the supposition of a future state, where is the motive? if we do reason on that supposition, where is the discovery?"--_vide lord macaulay's essays on "westminster reviewer's defence of mill," and "the utilitarian theory of government" in lord macaulay's "miscellaneous writings._" [ ] there was a way in which the argument was formerly stated by utilitarians which was much more plausible, but which i observe is now seldom if ever resorted to by the modern exponents of this theory. the _pall mall gazette_, april , , says: "the now prevailing doctrine" that there is no absolute standard of right and wrong, but "that the right and wrong of an action or a motive depend upon the influence of the action, or the motive upon the general good." the argument to which i refer is thus stated by mr w. o. manning in his "commentaries on the law of nations," :--"everything around us proves that god designed the happiness of his creatures. it is the will of god that man should be happy. to ascertain the will of god regarding any action, we have, therefore, to consider the tendency of that action to promote or diminish human happiness," p. . it is perfectly true that man was created by god for happiness, and that ultimate happiness, if he does not forfeit it, is the end to which he is still destined. it is moreover true that even in this world he may enjoy a conditional and comparative happiness. how it is that this happiness cannot be complete and perfect here below is precisely the secret which tradition reveals to him. it is important, from the point of view of happiness, both for individuals and nations, that the truth of this revelation should be ascertained, and that the conditions and limitations within which happiness is possible should be known, otherwise life will be consumed in chimerical pursuits of the unattainable, and in the case of nations will be certain to end, at some time or another, in catastrophes such as we have recently witnessed in paris. in an enlarged sense it is therefore true to say that the divine will has regard to utility; but the view has this implied condition, that what we regard as utility should in the first place be conformable to what is directly or indirectly known to be the divine precept and command; and, on the other hand, if no advertence is made to revelation or the tradition of the human race, what is called utility, however large and disinterested the speculation may be, it can never be more than the view of an individual or of a section of mankind, which it is highly probable that other individuals and sections of mankind, looking at the same facts, from a different point of view, will see reason to contradict. the _pall mall gazette_, april , , says:-- "between mr darwin and utilitarians, as utilitarians, there is no such quarrel as he would appear to suppose. the narrowest utilitarian could say little more than mr darwin says (ii. ):--'as all men desire their own happiness, praise or blame is bestowed on actions and motives according as they tend to this end; and as happiness is an essential part of the general good, the greatest happiness principle indirectly serves as a nearly safe standard of right and wrong.'" now, there is nothing in this reiteration of benthamism which has not been thrice refuted by lord macaulay in the essays above referred to. i append an extract more exactly to the point.[ ] [ ] if "the magnificent principle" is thus stated, "mankind ought to pursue their greatest happiness," it must be borne in mind that there are persons whose interests are opposed to the greatest happiness of mankind. lord macaulay's opponent replies, "ought is not predicable of such persons; for the word ought has no meaning unless it be used in reference to some interest." lord macaulay replied, "that interest was synonymous with greatest happiness; and that, therefore, if the word _ought_ has no meaning unless used with reference to interest, then, to say that mankind ought to pursue their greatest happiness, is simply to say that the greatest happiness is the greatest happiness; that every individual pursues his own happiness; that either what he thinks his happiness must coincide with the greatest happiness of society or not; that if what he thinks his happiness coincides with the greatest happiness of society, he will attempt to promote the greatest happiness of society whether he ever heard of the "greatest happiness principle" or not; and that, by the admission of the westminster reviewer, if _his_ happiness _is inconsistent with_ the greatest happiness of society, there is no reason why he should promote the greatest happiness of society. now, that there are individuals who think _that_ for their happiness which is not for the greatest happiness of society, is evident.... the question is not whether men have _some_ motives for promoting the greatest happiness, but whether the _stronger_ motives be those which impel them to promote the greatest happiness."--_lord macaulay's "miscellaneous writings," utilitarian theory of government_, pp. - . i refer to it because it will be interesting to see how the argument looks in its application to darwinism. it will be seen that if the conditions of unlimited enjoyment anywhere existed, lord macaulay's strictures would lose something of their force. if, indeed, there was superabundance and superfluity of everything for all in this life, then anything which conduces to the satisfaction of the individual would add to, or at least would not detract from, the sum of happiness of all mankind. but unless you can show this--if even the reverse of this is the truth--then "the greatest happiness" will be in proportion to the self-abnegation of those who possess more, or have the greatest faculties or facilities of producing more. now, if there is one view more prominent than another in mr darwin's work, it is embodied in the phrase to which he has given a new sense and significance, "the struggle for existence." in the midst of this struggle for existence, what is there in the greatest happiness principle to bind the individual to abnegation? why should he postpone his certain and immediate gratification to the remote advantage of others, or of distant and contingent advantage to himself? if, on the other hand, he regards the transitoriness of the enjoyment, and balances it against the fixity and eternity of the consequences, the argument takes altogether different proportions, and the temptation to enjoyment is inversely to the intensity of the struggle for existence. i will take another test of benthamism by darwinism, which will more exactly bring out the argument for which i contend. we have a traditional horror of infanticide which revolts all our best feelings and shocks our principles. but if mr darwin has demonstrated this struggle for existence existing from all time; if also we are disembarrassed from all advertence to another world; if, further, mr malthus, before mr darwin, has shown reason to believe that over-population is the cause of half the evils of this life, what is there in benthamite principles which should prevent our sacrificing these unconscious innocents to the greatest happiness of the greatest number? nothing, except the horror we should excite among mankind still imbued with the old superstitions! a person who did not hold to mr malthus' views might demur; but a malthusian, who was also a disciple of mr bentham, could only hold back because his feelings were better than his principles. a disciple of mr darwin's would probably stand aloof, and would merely see in our notions an artificial interference with the working of his theory, preventing the struggle for existence going on according to natural laws. this seems to me to be almost said in the same article from the _pall mall gazette_, from which i have quoted. mr darwin, in his "origin of species" (p. ), has pointed out that "we ought to admire the savage instinct which leads the queen-bee to destroy her young daughters as soon as born, because this is for the good of the community." and in his new book he says, firmly and unmistakably (i. ), that "if men were reared under precisely the same conditions as hive-bees, there can hardly be a doubt that our unmarried females would, like the worker-bees, think it a sacred duty to kill their brothers, and mothers would strive to kill their fertile daughters, and no one would think of interfering." the _pall mall_ continues-- "if, from one point of view, this is apt to shock a _timorous_ and _unreflecting_ mind, by asserting that the most cherished of our affections might have been, under _certain_ circumstances, a vicious piece of self-indulgence, and its place in the scale of morality taken by what is _now_ the most atrocious kind of crime; nevertheless, from another point of view, such an assertion is as reassuring as the most absolute of moralists could desire, for it is tantamount to saying that the foundations of morality, the distinctions of right and wrong, are deeply laid in the very conditions of social existence; that there is, in the face of these conditions, a positive and definite difference between the moral and the immoral, the virtuous and the vicious, the right and the wrong, in the actions of individuals partaking of that social existence." this is very well. it is so _now_, because of the traditional sentiments and principles which still retain their force--but how long will it continue? i invite attention to the following passage from mr hepworth dixon's "new america" (vol. i. p. , th edition), which i must say struck me very forcibly when i read it. he narrates a conversation which he had with brigham young on the subject of incest:--"speaking for himself, not for the church, he (brigham young) said he saw _none at all_ (_i.e._ no objection at all). he added, however, that he would not do it himself,--'my prejudices prevent me.'" upon which mr hepworth dixon observes-- "this _remnant_ of an old feeling brought from the gentile world, _and this alone_, would seem to prevent the saints (mormons) from rushing into the higher forms of incest. how long will these gentile sentiments remain in force? 'you will find here,' said elder stenhouse to me, talking on another subject, 'polygamists of the third generation. when these boys and girls grow up and marry, you will have in these valleys the _true feeling_ of patriarchal life. the _old world is about us yet_, and we are always thinking of what people may say in the scottish hills and the midland shires.'" here, and in the previous extract, we seem to catch glimpses of what the morality of the future is likely to be, at any rate in such matters as infanticide and incest, if old notions are to be discarded, and men are left, in each generation, to no higher rule than their own individual calculation as to pleasure and pain, or to the prevailing sense or determination of the community as to what the conditions of utility may permit. the nineteenth century is now verging on its decline, and of it, too, may we say that it has been better than its principles. yet, in spite of its philanthropy, and its aspirations for good, the destructive principles which it has nursed are rapidly gaining on its instincts: and if we may not truly at this moment paint its glories, as they have been depicted, i think by alexandre dumas, as "the livery of heroism, turned up with assassination and incest," is the time very remote when the description will apply? chapter ii. _the law of nature._ but underlying the question of the law of nations, and determining it, is the question whether or not there is a law of nature--a rule of right and wrong, independent of, and anterior to, positive legislative or international enactment. to prevent misconception, however, as to the scope of the inquiry, it is as well that i should state that i am only regarding the law of nature as the law of conscience (by which the gentiles "were a law unto themselves," rom. ii. ), in so far as it has manifested itself in laws and maxims; and the question i am here concerned with is, whether in any sense which history can take cognizance of, there was a rule of right and wrong previous to legislative enactment? at the first glance, the question would seem sufficiently disposed of by saying that men never were in a state of nature; which is true in this sense, that mankind never formed a multitude of isolated individuals, or a promiscuous herd of men and women. a totally different solution supposes a state of nature; but which, whether it depicts it as a golden age or an age of barbarism, still contemplates mankind in this state as a mere congeries of individuals, without law, or else without the necessity of law--in either case an aggregate of isolated individuals, eventually to be brought into the state of civil society by a social compact. now my intention is not to combat this view--which at the present moment may be considered to be exploded--but to account for it. i think that i shall do something towards clearing up this mystery by pointing out that this latter solution, although in great vogue with the publicists of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, is traced beyond them to the classical times, and was derived by them through the tradition of the roman law from paganism. a theory of the lawyers, and a theory of the philosophers, concreted with a true but distorted fact in tradition in order to produce this belief, viz., that society was founded by a contract among men who were originally equal.[ ] [ ] it will be seen, later on, in what this view differs from sir henry maine's. i shall in a subsequent chapter state to what extent i believe it to be true that society was founded upon a contract, and also the way in which this impression was confirmed, from the actual circumstances of the formation of the early communities of greece and italy; and i shall then examine the true tradition, such as i believe it to be, of a state of nature associated with the reminiscence of a golden age, as contrasted with the distinct yet parallel tradition of a state of nature identified with a state of barbarism (_vide_ ch. vii. and ch. xiii.) this latter tradition i believe to have been a recollection of that period of temporary privation after the flood, when mankind clung to the caverns and the mountains (_vide_ p. ), until, incited by the example of noah, they were brought into the plains, and instructed in the arts of husbandry by the patriarch; and the notion of the primitive equality[ ] of condition i believe to have originated in the bacchanalian traditions of the same patriarch.[ ] [ ] in all the diluvian commemorative festivals, to which i shall draw attention (ch. xi.), there is one day set apart for the commemoration of this primitive equality, accompanied with bacchanalian festivities and ceremonials. [ ] sir h. maine ("ancient law," p. ) says, "like all other deductions from the hypothesis of a law natural, and like the belief itself in a law of nature, it was languidly assented to, until it passed out of the possession of the lawyers into that of the literary men of the eighteenth century, and the public which sat at their feet. with them it became the most distinct tenet of their creed, and was even regarded as the summary of all the others." if we start with a belief in the primitive equality of conditions, the only way out of the mesh is apparently by a theory of a compact. "from the roman law downwards," says sir g. c. lewis, "there has been a strong tendency among jurists to deduce recognised rights and obligations from a supposed, but non-existing contract. when an express contract exists, the legal rights and duties which it creates are in general distinct and well-defined. hence, in cases where it is wished that similar legal consequences should be drawn, which come within the spirit of the rules applicable to a contract, though they do not themselves involve any contract, the lawyer cuts the knot by saying that a contract is presumed, that there is a contract by intendment of law, that there are certain rights and obligations "_quasi ex contractu_." thus the roman law held that a guardian was bound to his ward by a _quasi_ contract."--_sir g. c. lewis, "on the methods of observation, &c., in politics_," i. ; "_on the social compact_," pp. - . it is not difficult to see how such a fiction of the law would tend to give shape and system to the vague tradition as to the fact among the populace. the way in which the philosopher came to his conclusion was somewhat more complex. it will have been seen that the notion of the state of nature and the social compact was, among the ancients, in the main, a figment of the imagination, and not a tradition. but there was also a tradition of a law of nature which did not at all correspond to a state of license, of equality, and of barbarism, such as the state of nature was conceived to be. it was, on the contrary, a law of decorum and restraint. what, then, the roman probably meant by the law of nature was a reminiscence of a primitive revelation, or a tradition of the maxims of right and wrong by which men were guided in their relations to one another, when fresh from the hand of god--"_a diis recentes_"--when family life still subsisted, and before men had settled down into states and communities. it was not a law of nature as nature then was, but an aspiration after a lost rule of life, as after a higher standard, and an attempt to trace it back, through the corruption of mankind. dim and uncertain as these notions were, they were not without their influence. but their ideas as to the cosmogony were more shadowy still. when, then, in reasoning from a law of nature to a state of nature, mankind discovered that they knew or remembered nothing of their origin, or of the history of the human race, except indirectly through legendary lore, they then had recourse to the philosophers. these latter then did what philosophers incline to do in such cases of difficulty. they regarded the existing state of things, and finding it to be artificial, they, by a process of abstraction, resolved it into its elements, and, having thus reduced society into an assemblage of individuals, substituted their last analysis for the commencement of all things. in this analysis they found men, what historically and in fact they had never been, alike free, equal, and independent. the theory of the social compact among men individually free and equal was in the main a fiction, started _à posteriori_ to account for relations otherwise obscure, or, as sir henry maine explains, to facilitate modifications which were felt to be desirable; and we cannot be astonished that paganism should take this view, unless we are prepared to believe that the traditions truly embodying the history of the world were more direct, vivid, and potential than i suppose them to have been. it is at least remarkable, that in proportion as men lose their faith, they fall back, as if by some necessary law, upon some theory which directly or indirectly contemplates mankind as a collection of atoms; and if ever society should lose again the history of its origin, as would happen if ever infidelity were to gain complete ascendancy, it would return by the same processes to the same conclusion. but however sceptical individual minds may become, or however general may be the disposition to reject or ignore the scriptural narrative, the general framework of its statements is now too firmly embedded in the belief of mankind to be easily overthrown. the notion of a social compact, in more recent times, obtained a certain credence[ ] so long as the discussion was confined to hobbes, locke, and their disciples. and it must be borne in mind that this is a very taking theory, a ready and convenient starting point, and conformable to much that is true in history and politics. but it is long since exploded; and even the fervid advocacy of rousseau, in an age peculiarly predisposed for its reception, could not secure for it even temporary recognition among mankind; and why? because, whenever the discussion cools, men will inevitably ask each other the question, if such a compact took place, where shall we locate it consistently with the evidence recorded in genesis? remove the evidence in genesis, and such a theory becomes at once a tenable and plausible conjecture. [ ] "the earlier advocates of the doctrine of the social compact maintained it on the ground of its _actual existence_. they asserted that this account of the origin of political societies was _historically true_. thus locke, &c."--_sir g. c. lewis, "meth. of reasoning in pol._" i. p. . as i shall have occasion, later on, to come into collision with sir henry maine upon some points, i have the greater satisfaction here in invoking his testimony. this acute and learned writer ("ancient law," p. ) regrets that the voltairean prejudices of the last century prevented reference "to the only primitive records worth studying--the early history of the jews[ ].... one of the few characteristics which the school of rousseau had in common with the school of voltaire was an utter disdain of all religious antiquities, and more than all of those of the hebrew race. it is well known that it was a point of honour with the reasoners of that day to assume, not merely that the institutions called after moses were not divinely dictated, ... but that they and the entire pentateuch were a gratuitous forgery executed after the return from the captivity. debarred, therefore, from one chief security against speculative delusion, the philosophers of france, in their eagerness to escape from what they deemed a superstition of the priests, flung themselves headlong into a superstition of the lawyers." [ ] "the only reliable materials which we possess, besides the pentateuch, for the history of the period which it embraces, consist of some fragments of berosus and manetho, an epitome of the early egyptian history of the latter, a certain number of egyptian and babylonian inscriptions, and two or three valuable papyri."--_rawlinson, bampton lectures._ oxford, , ii. . chapter iii. _primitive life._ the scriptural narrative seems to establish:--( .) that human society did not commence with the fortuitous concurrence of individuals, but that, though originating with a single pair, for the purposes of practical inquiry it commences with a group of families--the family of noah and his sons, together with their families, and whose dispersion in other families is subsequently recorded. ( .) that men were not primitively in a state of savagery, barbarism, and ignorance of civil life; but that, on the contrary, it is presumable that noah and his family brought with them out of the ark the traditions and experiences of two thousand years, and, not to speak of special revelations, the arts of civil life and acquaintance with cities. ( .) that, although everything in the early state of mankind would have led to dispersion, and although there is mention of one great and complete dispersion, yet this dispersion of mankind was a dispersion of families and not of individuals. in all our speculations, therefore, as to society and government, it is the family and not the individual whom we must regard as the elementary constituent. moreover, so long as family government sufficed, there was nothing but the family. the state would have existed only in germ (_vide infra_, p. ), and would have remained thus inchoate even during that subsequent period when families were affiliated in tribal connection, though not yet coalesced into tribal union. it is my impression, that the period during which family government sufficed, continued much longer than is generally supposed; for, until the world became peopled and crowded, everything led to dispersion and the continuance of the pastoral state of life. from the necessities of pastoral life, mankind in early times could not have been gregarious--herds would have become intermixed, keep would have become short, the broad plains were spread out before them;[ ] _e.g._ gen. chap. xiii.-- "but lot also, who was with abraham, had flocks of sheep, and herds and tents. . neither was the land able to bear them, that they might dwell together. . whereupon there arose a strife between the herdsmen of abraham and lot; and at that time the canaanite and the perizzite dwelt in that country. . abraham therefore said, let there be no quarrel. . behold the whole land is before thee."[ ] [ ] i indicated this view in a pamphlet, "inviolability of property by the state, by an english landlord." . [ ] again esau and jacob separated, after the death of the patriarch isaac, because their stock in herds and flocks had so increased that, according to the scriptural phrase, "it was more than they might dwell together," and further, "the land would not bear them because of their cattle."--gen. chap, xxxvi.; _vide_ "pinkerton, voy." i. . writing with reference to the hamitic dynasty, founded at babylon by nimrod (_vide_ rawlinson, anc. mon.), and the conquests of kudur-lagamer, identified by rawlinson as chedor-laomer, mr brace adds ("ethnology," p. ):--"this at a period, as professor rawlinson remarks, when the kings of egypt had never ventured beyond their borders, and when no monarch in asia held dominion over more than a few petty tribes and a few hundred miles of territory."--_vide_ ch. xiii. "a golden age." it is scarcely to be believed, that in such a state of society there would have been feuds, in the sense of inherited or hereditary quarrels, but at most contentions for particular localities; in which case the weaker or the discomfited party would have pushed on to other ground. there was no long contest, because there was nothing worth contesting. it has been noticed that only the highly civilised man, and the savage who has tasted blood, love fighting for the mere sake and ardour of the conflict. the simple barbarian does not fight until he is attacked, neither do the wild animals of the desert; their ferocity is limited and regulated by the necessity and the provocation. it is the exception, rather than the rule, for animals to fight among themselves. it is not in the nature of man or beast to fight without a reason. accordingly, there is no such fomenter of war as war. carver notices that the wars carried on between the indian nations are principally on motives of revenge, and, when not on motives of revenge, their reasons for going to war are "in general more rational and just than such as are fought by europeans, &c."--_carver's "travels in north america,"_ pp. , .[ ] [ ] such seems, at a comparatively recent period ( ), to have been the state of things at a widely different point among the samoides:--"the real spot where the habitations of the samoides begin,--if any case be pointed out among a people which is continually changing residence,--is in the district of mozine, beyond the river of that name, three or four hundred wersts from archangel. the colony, which is actually met with there, and which _lives dispersed_ according to the usage of those people, _each family by itself_, without forming villages and communities, does not consist of more than three hundred families, or thereabouts, which are all descended _from two different tribes_, the one called laghe and the other wanonte--_distinctions carefully regarded by them_."--_vide_ "pinkerton, voy." i. . it is also said (p. ) of certain moral observances amongst them (_vide infra_, p. ):--"all these customs, religiously observed among them, are no other than the fruits of tradition, handed down to them from their ancestors; and this tradition, with some reason, may be looked upon as law." it is a common idea amongst us that the word _home_ is a peculiarly english word, and, i confess, it was my own impression, but i am set musing by finding among these same samoides the word "_chome_" as their word for their _tents_, to which they cling so closely.--_vide_ pinkerton, i. . "i visited four other villages or _goungs_, and there may be as many more in assam, each containing about three or four hundred people. every community is under the patriarchal government of a chief, from whom the village takes its name.... the chiefs of villages would combine against a common enemy, but are as independent of each other as the old highland heads of clans.... i was curiously reminded of the clan distinctions, by observing that the home-grown cotton cloths differed in pattern in the different villages. in all cases chequered patterns were worn, presenting as various combinations of colours and stripes as our own tartans, and each village possessed a pattern peculiar to itself, generally, though not universally, affected by the inhabitants."--_travels in northern assam_, field, i., ; _vide also hunter's "rural bengal,"_ , p. . the same tendencies, under similar circumstances, where the tribes were not crowded or in fear of warlike neighbours, was noticed among the red indians some forty years ago. now, i suppose, instances would be rare. "when a nation of indians becomes too numerous conveniently to procure subsistence from its own hunting-grounds, it is no uncommon occurrence for it to send out a colony, or, in other words, to separate into tribes.... the tribe so separated maintains all its relations independent of the parent nation, though the most friendly intercourse is commonly maintained, and they are almost uniformly allies. separations sometimes take place from party dissensions, growing generally out of the jealousies of the principal chiefs, and, not unfrequently, out of petty quarrels. in such instances, in order to prevent the unnecessary and wanton effusion of blood, and consequent enfeebling of the nation, the weaker party moves off usually without the observance of much ceremony."[ ] [ ] "hunter's memoir of his captivity (from childhood to the age of nineteen) among the indians," p. , . he also adds (p. ):--"the indians do not pretend to any correct knowledge of the tumuli or mounds that are occasionally met with in their country.... one tradition of the quapaws states that a nation differing very much from themselves inhabited the country many hundred snows ago, when game was so plenty that it required only slight efforts to procure subsistence, and when there _existed no hostile neighbours to render the pursuit of war necessary_." and stephen's "central america" (i. ) notices the absence of all weapons of war from the representations in sculpture at copan, and says:--"in other countries, battle scenes, warriors, and weapons of war, are among the most prominent subjects of sculpture; and from the entire absence of them here, there is reason to believe that the people were not warlike, but peaceable, and easily subdued." mr grote in his "plato"[ ] says-- "there existed," even "in his (plato's) time, a great variety of distinct communities--some in the simplest, most patriarchal, cyclopian condition, _nothing more than families_; some highly advanced in civilisation, with its accompanying good and evil, some in each intermediate stage between these two extremes. each little family or sept exists at first separately, with a patriarch whom all implicitly obey, and peculiar customs of its own. several of these septs gradually coalesce together into a community, choosing one or a few lawgivers to adjust and modify their respective customs into harmonious order."[ ] [ ] iii., ch. xxxvii. leges, . [ ] i find incidental corroboration of this view in "the archæology of prehistoric annals" of scotland, by dr wilson--"the infancy of all written history is necessarily involved in fable. long ere _scattered families_ had _conjoined_ their _patriarchal unions into tribes_, and clans acknowledging some common chief, and submitting their differences to the rude legislation of the arch-priest or civil head of the commonwealth, treacherous tradition has converted the story of their birth into the wildest admixture of myth and legendary fable."--_introd._, p. . even in the plain of sennaar (shinar) we see something of this fusion of tribes--"besides these two main constituents of the chaldæan race there is reason to believe that both a semitic and aryan element existed.... the subjects of the early kings are continually designated in the inscriptions by the title of 'kiprat-arbat,' which is interpreted to mean 'the four nations' or 'tongues'" (rawlinson's "ancient monarchies," i. p. ). professor rawlinson is also of opinion, that "the league of the four kings in abraham's time seems correspondent to a four-fold ethnic division." does not the above also correspond to the four-fold ethnic division of the vedas?--_vide infra_, p. . compare also the four-fold division of the world or of peru, according to various indian traditions, between manco capac and his brothers.--_vide_ hakluyt society's edition of garcilasso de la vega, i. - . if these are not traditions of fusions of races, they can only be diluvian traditions of the four couples who came out of the ark, which was the conjecture of the spaniards in the case of manco capac. in the situations, however, where the more powerful families had seized the vantage-ground, or established themselves in the richest and most coveted valleys, the tendency to consolidation and permanent settlement would have more rapidly manifested itself. as the tendency to family dispersion became restrained, and its scope restricted, disputes as to _meum_ and _tuum_ would have become more frequent as between families, some more central authority than the family headship would have been demanded for the protection, discrimination, and regulation of property. _in these_ instances the state may be said to have arisen out of the expansion of the family into the tribes--the families, probably, never having ceased to dwell together in semi-aggregation; and, when greater concentration was required, they simply had to fall back upon the patriarchal chieftain. we seem to see a tradition of this in the anax andron. but equally as regards the rest there must inevitably have come a time when, as the world became crowded, the same necessity of defending their possessions, would have caused families, among whom there was no affinity of race, to coalesce, intermix, succumb, and form communities and states. these two modes of settlement into communities and states were, however, essentially dissimilar, and the basis thus laid would have remained permanently different. the one was the basis of custom, the other of contract; the one the settlement of the east, the other of the west; and it will be seen, i think, that whilst the one was more favourable to the conservation of traditions of religion and history, the other would have better preserved the tradition of right. these are points to which i shall return in a subsequent chapter, when i shall avail myself of the investigations of sir henry maine. this simple outline, however, of human history, conformable, as i believe it to be, with the scriptural narrative, conflicts with at least three theories now much in vogue. the first, which is substantially that of sir john lubbock, mr mill,[ ] and mr b. gould, is thus conveniently summarised by mr hepworth dixon.[ ] "every one who has read the annals of our race--a page of nature with its counterfoil in the history of everything having life--is aware that, in our progress from the savage to the civilised state, man has had to pass through three grand stages, corresponding, as it were, to his childhood, to his youth, and to his manhood. in the first stage of his career he is a hunter, living mainly by the chase; in the second, he is a herdsman; ... in the third stage, he is a husbandman.... then these conditions of human life may be considered as finding their purest types in such races as the iroquois, the arabian, the gothic, in their present stage; but each condition is, in itself and for itself, _an affair of development and not of race_. the arab, who is now a shepherd, was once a hunter. the saxon, who is now a cultivator of the soil, was first a hunter, then a herdsman, before he became a husbandman. man's progress from stage to stage is _continuous_ in its course, _obeying the laws of physical and moral change_. it is slow, it is _uniform_, it is silent, it is unseen. in one word, it is _growth_.... these three stages in our progress upward are strongly marked; the interval dividing an iroquois from an arab being as wide as that which separates an arab from a saxon." [ ] this view will be found in the first chapter of mr j. s. mill's "principles of political economy," ch. i. p. . "there is perhaps no people or community now existing which subsist entirely on the spontaneous produce of vegetation." [whether mankind ever lived "entirely on," &c., may be questioned, but it is implied in gen. ix. that man did not subsist on animal food until after the deluge, a fact which lies at the foundation of porphyry's work, "de abstinentia."] "but many tribes still live exclusively, or almost exclusively, on wild animals, the produce of hunting or fishing.... the first _great advance beyond this state_ consists in the domestication of the more useful animals: giving rise to the _the pastoral or nomad state.... from this state of society to the agricultural_, the transition is not indeed easy (for no great change in the habits of mankind is otherwise than difficult, and in general either painful or very slow), but it lies in what may be called the spontaneous course of events." [ ] mr hepworth dixon's "new america," vol. i. p. . now, in the first place, i must remark that the iroquois and the arab have never progressed;[ ] neither does the arab at the present show any signs of a transition to the third stage of necessary growth, nor does mr hepworth dixon, although he gives some sound practical advice as to the best mode in which the red man is to be restrained, venture to suggest any mode by which he is to be reclaimed from the first to the third stage, either with or without a transition through the second stage of development. the conclusion therefore, one would think, would be inevitable that it is an affair _of race_ and _not_ of development. the arab and the iroquois, after the lapse of so many centuries, are still found with the evidences of primitive life strong upon them; and so, i imagine, we shall find it wherever we come upon a pure race of homogeneous origin. on the contrary, we shall find that mixed races, by the very law and reason of their admixture, have shown the greatest adaptibility, and, whenever circumstances were favourable, very rapid growth. again, i very much question whether the three stages, or rather three phases of life were ever, as a rule, progressive; and whether, in the cases in which they might chance to have been successive, anything occurred in the transition at all resembling an uniform law of growth. it is very much more probable that the three were from the earliest period contemporaneous[ ]--"and abel was a shepherd, and cain an husbandman" (gen. iv.)--the determination of the sons to the avocations of shepherd, husbandman, and hunter respectively (the latter most probably being the last selected), being influenced by taste, character, and the division of the inheritance, the authority of the father, the geographical conditions of the route, and chance circumstances. [ ] _vide_ sir s. baker; _vide_ note, ch. xiii., _noah_. [ ] the following passage, _inter alia_, from herodotus seems to sustain this--"to the eastward _of those scythians_, who apply themselves to _the culture of the land_, and on the other side of the river panticapes, the country is inhabited by scythians who _neither plough nor sow_, but are employed in _keeping cattle_."--_herod._, iv., mel. and this is the more confirmed when we consider that when once the hunter started on his career, he would have determined their avocation also for his posterity. at his death he would not have had herds of cattle to apportion to any one of his sons, and thus the taste for wild life, necessarily perpetuated, would be bred in the bone, as an indomitable characteristic of race, and the first hunter by choice would inevitably come to be the progenitor of generations of hunters by instinct and necessity. the second theory depicts the opening scene of human existence as a state of conflict, which, it must be allowed, is perfectly consistent with the theory that it was one of savagery. the theory i am now combating was originally the theory of hobbes; and i might have regarded it as now obsolete, were it not that it has cropped up quite recently in a most respectable quarter. mr hunter, in his charming work, "the annals of rural bengal," has a passage which, as i think, has been taken for more than it intends, though not for more than it expresses. mr hunter says, p. -- "the inquiry leads us back to that far-off time which we love to associate with patriarchal stillness. yet the echoes of ancient life in india little resemble a sicilian idyl or the strains of pan's pipe, but strike the ear rather as the cries of oppressed and wandering nations, of people in constant motion and pain. early indian researches, however, while they make havoc of the pastoral landscapes of genesis and job, have a consolation peculiarly suited to this age. they plainly tell us, that as in europe so in asia, the primitive state of mankind was a state of unrest; and that civilisation, despite its exactions and nervous city life, is a state of repose." it is plain that there is here question of restlessness rather than of violence; but grant that there was violence too, the account of mr. hunter when examined, so far from conflicting with, appears to me to fall exactly into, the lines i have indicated. is not the scene, from before which mr. hunter lifts the curtain, the scene of that age following the dispersion (of which, p. , there is such distinct tradition in his pages), which is traditionally known to us as the iron age? the error, then, of mr. hunter is to confound the patriarchal with the iron age. it need not therefore cause surprise that in early indian history we should hear of conflict, for it is just at the period and under the circumstances when we should consider the collision probable. mr. hunter, indeed, speaks of the aboriginal races as mysterious in their origin. but from the point of view of genesis, there seems to be no greater mystery about them than about their conquerors the aryans. one representative, at least, of the aboriginal race, the santals, retain to this day the most vivid traditions of the flood and the dispersion[ ] (pp. , ). now, if there had existed any race anterior to the santals, i think we should have heard of them. on this point we may consider mr. hunter's negative testimony as conclusive, both on account of his extensive knowledge of the subject, and his evident predisposition (p. ) to have discovered a prior race, if it had existed; and there is nothing to show that the same line of argument would not have applied to it if its existence had been demonstrated. it must be mentioned that besides their tradition of the dispersion, the santals retain dim recollections--borne out by comparative evidence--of having travelled to their present homes from the north-east, whereas the aryans came unmistakeably from the north-west. [ ] these legends, shown to be aboriginal, are very curious. they are, however, too long to be extracted here. they would repay perusal. here, then, just as might have been predicted _à priori_, these rival currents of the dispersion met from opposite points, and ran into a _cul de sac_, from which, as there was no egress, there necessarily ensued a struggle for mastery. let us now regard the two people more closely. "our earliest glimpses of the human family in india, disclose two tribes of widely different origin, struggling for the mastery. in the primitive time, which lies on the horizon even of inductive history, a tall, fair-complexioned race passed the himalaya. they came of a conquering stock. they had _known the safety_ and the _plenty_ which can only be enjoyed in regular communities.[ ] _they brought with them a store of legends_ and devotional strains; and chief of all they were at the time of their migration southward through bengal, if not at their first arrival in india, imbued with that high sense of nationality, which burns in the heart of a people who believe themselves the _depositary of a divine revelation_. there is no record of the newcomers' first struggle for life with the people of the land."--_hunter's annals_, p. . here we see the more intellectual, the more spiritual (p. ), monotheistic (p. ) aryan race overpowering the black race which had earliest pre-occupied the ground, and which was already tainted with demon worship. this contrast invites further inquiry; but first let me clear up and direct the immediate drift of my argument. [ ] mr max müller also says ("chips," ii. p. )--"it should be observed that most of the terms connected with the chase and warfare differ in each of the aryan dialects, while words connected with more peaceful occupations belong, generally, to the common heirloom of the aryan language," which proves "that all the aryan nations had led _a long life of peace before they separated_, and that their language acquired individuality and nationality, as each colony started in search of new homes,--new generations forming new terms connected with the warlike and adventurous life of their onward migrations. hence it is that _not only greek and latin, but all aryan_ languages have their peaceful words in common." also _vide_ p. , . if we estimate--taking the minimum or the maximum either according to the hebrew or septuagint version--the time it would have taken these populations, according to the slow progress of the dispersion, to have arrived at their destinations from the plain of sennaar (mesopotamia), the period may be equally conjectured to correspond with that which tradition marks as the commencement of the iron age, when the world was becoming overcrowded, and the increasing populations came into collision. neither is it a difficulty,[ ] it rather appears to me in accordance with tradition, that if this surmise be correct, the earliest arrival in the indian peninsula should have been of those who took the longest route. for it is natural to suppose that the proscribed and weakest races, _e.g._ the canaanitish, would have been the first to depart, and to depart by the north-east and west, the more powerful families having passed down and closed the south-east exit by way of the lower valleys of the euphrates. these latter would have spread themselves out in the direction of india leisurely and at a subsequent period. [ ] i find this conjecture confirmed in the pages of the most recent authority on the subject, mr brace, "ethnology," p. , --"on the continent of asia the turanians were probably the first who figured as nations in the ante-historical period. their emigrations began long before the wanderings of the aryans and semites, who, wherever they went, always discovered a previous population, apparently of turanian origin, which they either expelled or subdued." according to max müller's hypothesis there were two migrations, one northern and one southern [corresponding to the migration as above], "the _latter_ settling on the rivers meikong, meinam, _irrawaddy_, and _bramapootra_," ... "a third to the south [probably an advance of the previous one], is believed to tend toward thibet and india, and in later times pours its hordes _through the himalaya_, and forms the _original population of india_." analogy may be discovered in "the two streams or lines of celtic migration," which, says bunsen ("philosophy of univ. hist." i. ) "we may distinguish by the names of the western and eastern stream, the _former_, although the _less direct_, seems to be historically the more ancient, and to have reached this country (britain) _several centuries_ before _the other_." following these lines of migration, the aryan at some period came upon the black turanian race (_vide infra_, chap. v.); and mr hunter (p. ) records the embittered feelings with which the recollection of the strife remained in tradition. why should this have been? it might suffice to say, in consistency with what has already been advanced, that this was their first encounter, the first check in their advance. another solution seems to me equally ready to hand, and to solve so much more. but first, how does mr hunter account for this bitter feeling? he suggests contempt for their "uncouth talk," "their gross habits of eating," and, what comes near to the truth, as i apprehend it, their blackness and their paganism. suppose, then, we go a step further, and say that the highly intellectual japhetic race met thus suddenly and unexpectedly the outcast canaanitish race, with the curse upon them, recognisable in their colour and deficiencies, and of whom they would have remembered that it had been said, "that they should be the servants of their brethren"--will not this explain something of their animosity? i must here remark that although scientific inquiry takes designations of its own, in order the more conveniently to express its distinctions, yet whether we accept the ethnological or philological demarcations of mankind, it is curious how inevitably, as i think de maistre remarked, we are led back to shem, ham, and japhet. and this is as true now after a half century of scientific progress, as it was when de maistre wrote. without asserting that the divisions may ever be distinctly traced with the minuteness of bochart in his "geog. sacra," i still say, that the broad lines of the traditional apportionment of the world, and the three-fold or four-fold division of the race indicated in scripture, is seen behind the ultimate divisions into which science is brought to separate mankind, whether into caucasian, ethiopian, mongol, with two intermediate varieties, as by blumenbach; or into australioid, negroid, mongoloid, and xanthochroic, as by huxley; or into brace's division into aryan, semitic, turanian, and hamitic. behind these various systems, as behind a grill, we seem to see the forms and faces of the progenitors of the human race discernible, but their existence not capable of contact and actual demonstration, because of the intercepting bars and lattice work.[ ] [ ] i am throughout assuming acquaintance, on the part of my readers, with the third and fourth of cardinal wiseman's "lectures on science and revealed religion;" for although my argument is distinct from that of the cardinal, yet i everywhere regard his argument as the background and support of my position; and it is, moreover, part of the aim and intention of this work to show that the general ground and framework (this is, in fact, understating the truth) of cardinal wiseman's argument remains intact. there is, i think, somewhere in the cardinal's works, a passage to the above effect, but i have not been able to recover it. i have spoken above of a three-fold and four-fold division as equally indicated in scripture, and i think, from non-observance of this, the close approximation of these systems to genesis is not sufficiently recognised. i refer to the three progenital races, and the canaanite marked off and distinguished from the rest by a curse. i shall enlarge upon this point in another chapter (chap. v). i will only observe now that i do not venture to say that the canaanite is co-extensive with the turanian, which is more a philological than an ethnological division of mankind, or that their characteristics in all respects correspond.[ ] i limit my argument now to indicating the correspondence between the canaanite and the aboriginal tribes in india. [ ] if space allowed, i think the traditional lines might be indicated as plainly from the philological as from the ethnological point of view. this correspondence i find not only in the features already noted--their blackness and their intellectual inferiority--but in their enslavement to the superior races of mankind whenever they came into contact and collision with them. is not this everywhere also the mark of the turanian race? are not these conflicts in primitive life always with the turanian race? and are they not in asia, as in africa, in a state of subjugation or dependence? at any rate, this is the condition in which we find the turanian in india, so fully expressed in their name of "sudras."[ ] [ ] "according to the sacred law-book, entitled the ordinances of menu, the creator, that the human race might be multiplied, caused the brahmin, cshatriya, the vaisya, and the _sudra_ (so named from scripture, protection, wealth, and _labour_), to proceed from his mouth, arm, thigh, and foot."--_brit. ency._ the "fatimala," a sanskrit work on hindu castes, says, "the other, _i.e._, the sudra, should voluntarily serve the three other tribes, and therefore he became a sudra; he _should_ humble himself at their feet." against this literal fulfilment of gen. ix. --"cursed be canaan, a servant of servants shall he be to his brethren"--as regards the indian sudra, the text in gen. x. --"and the limits of chanaan were from sidon ... to gaza ... even to sesa"--may be objected. but i construe this text only to refer to chanaan proper, and to be spoken rather with reference to the limits of the promised land and the hebrews, than to the allocation of the tribes of chanaan; for the text immediately preceding seems to me to have its significance--viz. gen. x. ,[ ] where it is said in a marked manner, and of the descendants of chanaan alone, "the families of the canaanites were spread abroad." but if we are to suppose the whole descent of chanaan to have been confined between the limits of sidon and sesa, it could hardly have been said to have had the diffusion of the other hamitic races, and the _families_ of the chanaanites will not have been "spread abroad" in any noticeable or striking manner. it appears to me, also, that it may be proved in another way. st paul, acts xiii. , says that god destroyed _seven_ nations in the land of chanaan, whereas gen. x. enumerates eleven. [ ] homer's expression (od. i. , ), that the ethiopians divided in twain, were the _most remote_ of men-- [greek: "athiopas, toi dichtha dedaiatai eschatoi andrôn, hoi men dysomenoi yperionos oi d' aniontos,"] approximates to the scriptural phrase, and seems to imply a wider dispersion than is suggested by professor rawlinson, i. . again, kalisch ("hist. and crit. com. on old testament," trans. ) makes it a difficulty against gen. ix. that "canaan _should_ not only fall into the hands of shem, _i.e._ the people of israel, but also of _japhet_" (i. ). a remote fulfilment of the prediction may be seen in the median conquest of phoenicia, and the roman destruction of carthage; but if i have truly indicated the order of events, it will be seen that it had already come about in the earliest times. the text, indeed, of gen. ix. --"may god enlarge japhet, and may he dwell in the tents of shem, and canaan be his servant"--is so clear as almost to require some such fulfilment. but the fulfilment is seen, not only in the degradation of chanaan, but in the prosperity of japhet;[ ] and this is so correlative, that i shall still be enforcing the argument whilst connecting a link which may appear to be wanting, viz. the identity of japhet with the more favoured nations of the world. the identity of the indo-germanic races with the descendants of japhet may almost be said to be a truth "_qui saute aux yeux_," but it may still be worth while to collect the links of tradition which establish it. [ ] tylor ("primitive culture," i. p. ) says, "the semitic family, which represents one of the oldest known civilizations of the world, includes arabs, jews, phoenicians (?), syrians, &c., and may have an older as well as a newer connection in north africa. this family takes in some rude tribes, but _none which would be classed as savages_. the aryan family has existed in asia and europe certainly for several thousand years, and there are well known and marked traces of early barbaric condition, which has perhaps survived with least change among secluded tribes in the valleys of the hindu kush and himalaya." [_query_, what is the nature of the evidence that they have survived, and have not degenerated?] mr tylor continues, "there seems, again, _no known case of any full aryan tribe having become savage_. the gipsies and other outcasts are, no doubt, partly aryan in blood, but _their degraded condition_ is not _savagery_. in india there are tribes aryan by language, but whose physique is rather of indigenous type, and whose ancestry is mainly from indigenous stocks, with more or less mixture of the dominant hindu." compare _infra_, ch. v., and de maistre, p. . in truth, it appears to us a self-evident proposition, simply because tradition has familiarised us with the belief that europe was peopled by the descendants of japhet, and because philology has recently demonstrated the indo-germanic race to include this demarcation (together with central and western asia); but i think that if we exclude the testimony of tradition, we should have difficulty in establishing the point either upon the text of gen. x. , or from the evidence of philology. that the race of japhet spread themselves over the islands, and colonised the coasts of the mediterranean, is the traditional interpretation of that text; and it receives confirmation, in the first place, in the tradition that "japetus being the father of prometheus, was regarded by the greeks as the ancestor of the human race."--smith's "myth. dict." we have, i think, become familiar with such transpositions as "deucalion the son of prometheus," and "prometheus the son of deucalion," &c. certainly prometheus (_vide_ appendix to chap. viii. p. , and chap. x. p. ), supposing prometheus to be adam,[ ] would naturally stand at the head of every genealogy; but japetus, supposing him to be identified with japhet as the particular founder of the race (after so distinct and definite a starting-point as the deluge), would also, in his way, have claims to be placed at the head of their genealogy; and probably about the time that he began to be called "old japetus," and to be typical of antiquity, his claims would have been regarded as paramount, and prometheus would have been accordingly displaced in his favour. this is conjectural, but must be taken as one link. [ ] just as hercules (_vide_ hercules, p. ), who embodied in another line the tradition of adam, is said by mr grote, "hist. of greece," i. p. - , "to have been the most renowned and most ubiquitous of all the semi-divine personages worshipped by the hellenes," so that "distinguished families are _everywhere_ to be traced who have his patronymic, and glory in the belief that they are his descendants." to whom would they trace back more naturally than to adam? well, the (indian) aryans also, according to mr hunter ("rural bengal," ), "held (book of manu and the vishnu purana) that the greeks and persians were sprung from errant kshatryas, who had lost their caste"--_i.e._ from their own race. they are called in the same books _yavanas_ and pahlavas. now no one, i think, will call it a forced analogy to see in yavana the name of javan, the son of japhet.[ ] this i may call link the second. [ ] this must be taken in connection with what i have said, ch. x. but the aryans, as we have seen, are one of the three or four primitive races to which both philology and ethnology lead us back. they are contrasted, on the one side, with the semitic, and, on the other, with the hamitic or turanian race. we will assume, then, on the strength of the philological and scriptural lines being so nearly conterminous, that at least, looking from the point of view of scripture, the aryan may be identified with great probability as the japhetic race. if, then, the aryan is the japhetic race in its elder branch--to which its later migration would seem to testify--we should exactly expect that it would designate a kindred but collateral race, not by the name of their common ancestor, but by the name of the progenitor from whom they were more immediately descended--not as from japhet, but from javan. thus the links seem to join; and here i leave them, till there may chance to come some one who will gather up all the links in the chain of tradition, dislocated and dispersed by the catastrophes which have been consequent upon the derelictions of mankind. the third view to which i wish to advert, is that put forward by mr john f. m'lennan in his "primitive marriage," , which also revives the theory of a savage state, and moreover professes to discover primitive mankind living in a state of promiscuity, little, if at all, elevated above the brute, and this during the long period which was required to develop . the tribe; . the gens; . the family. it will be difficult for any one, who comes fresh from the perusal of genesis, to realise the possibility of such a view being held; but, in truth, there is no view too grotesque for men in whose survey mankind appear originally on the scene as a mass of units coming into the world, no one knows how, like locusts rising above the horizon, or covering the earth perhaps like toads after a shower! yet mr m'lennan's theory is virtually endorsed (_vide infra_) by sir j. lubbock, who refers to it (p. , note), as "mr m'lennan's masterly work." if, then, we must discuss the theory upon its merits, the objection which i should take, _in limine_, is that it is a partial generalisation from facts, irrespective of the historical evidence as a whole. there stands against it, of course, the direct evidence of the bible, also there stands against it the researches of oriental archaeology, and, again, what mr m'lennan calls the "so-called revelation of philology," which shows that mankind, in the period previous to their dispersion, "had marriage laws regulating the rights and obligations of husbands and wives, of parents and children." this evidence he rejects because "the preface of general history _must be_ compiled from the materials presented by barbarism" (p. ), thus _assuming_ barbarism to have been the primitive state. mr m'lennan struggles vainly for universal facts on which to build, and seems to find one in what he has termed exogamy (_i.e._ marriage outside the tribe), combined with the capture of wives and the infanticide of female children within the tribe. impossible! if this state of things had been _universal_, the human race would have exterminated itself long before "the historic period!" the theory necessarily supposes that some tribes were addicted to these practices, whilst others were not. exogamy, therefore, is not a universal fact; but neither could endogamy have been, _for "the conversion of an endogamous tribe into an exogamous tribe is inconceivable,"_ p. . but as mr m'lennan is as much constrained to choose between exogamy and endogamy as was mons. jourdain between poetry and prose, he apparently elects in favour of the universal primitive prevalence of exogamy, _i.e._ he supposes mankind to have commenced under conditions which would have ensured its proximate extinction. mr m'lennan (p. ) says, "the two types of organisation (viz. exogamy and endogamy) may be equally archaic;" but it is evident that he inclines to the opinion that exogamy is the more archaic; and his analysis at p. , commencing with "exogamy pure, no. , and continuing on to ... endogamy pure, no. ," is "the analysis of a series of phenomena which appears to form a progression" ( ). moreover, the difficulties which i have just urged will immediately recur if we allow "the two types to have been equally archaic." the supposed exogamous tribes, according to the theory, enforcing the infanticide of female children, and not permitting marriage within the tribe, must have been wholly dependent upon the endogamous groups for their women. these latter groups must either have succumbed, and so have become speedily extinguished through the loss of their women (for they could not have acquired others who were not of their stock, without ceasing to be endogamous); or they must have resisted successfully, and even if the matter went no farther, the exogamous tribes must have died out or abandoned exogamy; or the endogamous tribes must have resisted and retaliated, in which case we should have this further complication that they themselves would have ceased to be endogamous, and without any reason or necessity for becoming exogamous; for with the seizure of the females of the exogamous tribes, or even, under the special circumstances, with the recovery of their own, the element of "heterogeneity" would have been introduced, and the system of endogamy would have been no longer true in theory, or possible in fact. all these results must have been immediately consequent upon the first collision, which from the very conditions of exogamy, must have occurred at the outset! postulating exogamy, it must therefore rapidly have extirpated or absorbed every other system, and yet it could never have stood alone. mr m'lennan himself allows that wherever "kinship through females, the most ancient system in which the idea of blood relationship was embodied" ( ) was known, there would have been a tendency among the exogamous groups to become heterogeneous, and that thus "the system of capturing wives would have been superseded."[ ] in other words, exogamy would have become extinct. but if "kinship through females" was not discovered by the first children of the first mothers, how was it subsequently discovered? we are given no clue except that "the order of nature is progressive!" [ ] at p. , mr m'lennan sees evidence of the "form of capture" and the fact of capture among the jews; but he will at least allow the appeal to be made to the scriptures, as their most authentic history. what do we find at the commencement? in the first marriage contract recorded, _i.e._ of isaac and rebecca? why, the reverse of capture. genesis xxvi. , "but if the woman will not follow thee thou shalt not be bound by the oath." also v. , . mr m'lennan (p. ), with reference to the hurling "stones and bamboos at the head of the devoted bridegroom in khondistan," says, "_the hurling of old shoes_ after the bridegroom among ourselves _may be_ a relic of a similar custom." but this custom would seem to be much more directly traced to the custom among the jews of taking the shoes from the man who refused to marry his brother's widow (deuteronomy), and which is more generally stated in ruth iv. , as a token of _cession of right_--"the man _put off his shoe_, and gave it to his neighbour, _this was the testimony of a cession of right in israel_" (ruth iv. ). this compels the remark that if mr m'lennan fails to prove that exogamy was universal, as a stage of human progress, or, to use a phrase of his own, "on such a scale as to entitle it to rank among the normal phenomena of human development," there is nothing to exclude the likelihood of its being much more satisfactorily and directly traced as the result of degeneracy. mr m'lennan should clear his ground by demonstrating that the circumstances exclude the possibility of this conjecture. on the contrary, and on his own showing, they would appear much more certainly to affirm it. although exogamy is the earliest fact which he believes to be demonstrable by evidence, he assumes an initial promiscuity; and seems to see his way out of this initial promiscuity through the system of "rude polyandry" (when one woman was common to a determinate number of men unrelated) as distinguished from "regulated polyandry" (where one woman was common to several brothers). it must be noted that before these polyandrous families, if we may so call them, at first necessarily limited, could theoretically or in fact have become the tribal exogamous groups, many difficulties must be disposed of, and many stages traced, of which we are told nothing more than that we are "forced to regard all the exogamous races as having originally been polyandrous" (p. ). that these families, if it is not an abuse of terms to call them so, could not have become tribal by grouping, mr m'lennan himself maintains, p. . the two systems which mr m'lennan distinguishes as "rude" and "regulated polyandry," are so essentially different that i fail to trace the possibility of progression from one to the other. "rude polyandry" is barely distinguishable from promiscuity, and not at all if we regard it as only promiscuity, necessarily limited through infanticide, or other causes destroying the balance of the sexes. the latter has peculiar features--arising in some way out of, and fixed in the idea of the relationship of brothers--an idea which it is just conceivable might arise directly out of a state of promiscuity--where theoretically the children might be supposed to be in contact with the mother only, but which the system of "rude polyandry," by introducing conflicting and complicated claims, would immediately tend to weaken and obliterate. let us see, then, if we can trace the custom better on the lines of degeneracy. if we start with the belief in the existence of many primitive ceremonies and regulations we may then suppose that in the downward progression to promiscuity, the stages of the descent will be traceable in the corruptions of these customs. such surmises at least are as good as the contrary surmises of mr m'lennan. now, we have already seen[ ] that mr m'lennan alludes to the law of deuteronomy, which imposed the obligation of the younger brother marrying the widow of the elder--and it will, moreover, be seen (mr m'lennan, p. ) that this was also prescribed in the law of menu. [ ] "dr latham would invert the order of development by producing the ruder fact--polyandry--from the less rude obligation. but clearly this is an inversion of the order of nature, _which is progressive_," &c.--_m'lennan_, "_prim. marriage_," p. . whatever may be the true solution of this coincidence the least likely account would seem to be that they had both, under different conditions (different at any rate from the point of divergence, be it exogamy or polyandry), advanced to it independently and by similar stages. such fortuitous coincidences would imply not merely a succession of similar developments, but also a corresponding succession of accidental circumstances. if, however, the custom of the younger brother marrying the widow of the elder was of primitive institution (compare genesis xxxviii. and the code of menu), the corruption of this custom into polyandry, in circumstances which may at any time have disturbed the balance of the sexes in the overcrowded east, though it revolts will not absolutely astonish us; whereas the converse, _i.e._ restriction to successive appropriation contingent upon widowhood, from a state of virtual promiscuity, is so uphill a reform and so contrary to probability that it requires some internal evidence of the stages, and some warrant in modern observation to make it plausible. none are given. for the fact that we find both the "rude" and the "regulated" form existing side by side cuts both ways;[ ] and the discovery of a form of capture--the rakshasa, among the eight forms sanctioned by the code of menu, enforces our argument--it would exactly correspond to the military exemption among the jews (mr m'lennan, p. ), supposing we were able to read deuteronomy xx. - in the same sense as mr m'lennan. in that case, therefore, it would be a departure from or relaxation of a rule laid down--a view which is confirmed when we find that the authority quoted (dr muir, "sanscrit texts," the ramayana) tells that "ravana, the most terrible of all the rakshasas, is stigmatised as a _destroyer of religious duties_, and ravisher of the _wives_ of others" (prim. mar. p. ), which testifies to degeneracy at some period; whereas if mr m'lennan's view is true, this hero must be relegated to a time when the conception of "religious duties," and even of other men's "wives" were unknown. [ ] it seems to me that turner's account of polyandry in tibet, quoted by mr m'lennan, p. , gives plain evidence of the transition from the jewish custom to the "regulated" polyandry. it is said "that _the choice_ of a _wife_ is the _privilege_ of the _elder brother_." we have seen (_supra_, ), that when mankind had got, we know not how, into tribal exogamous groups, "kinship through females would have a tendency," and a moment's consideration will show an immediate tendency, "to render the exogamous groups heterogeneous, and thus to supersede the system of capturing wives." we ask why did they capture wives? mr m'lennan implies that their ideas of _incest_ forbade marriage within the tribe.[ ] apparently, then, the groups must have been exogamous[ ] previously to the time when they had attained to the knowledge of "kinship through females," else "kinship through females" would from the first have operated to produce a state of things which would have rendered exogamy unnecessary and inexplicable. the corollary is curious; they must, therefore, have had the idea of incest before they had the idea of kinship through females! [ ] "instead of endogamy we might, after some explanations, have used the word caste. but caste connotes several ideas besides that on which we desire to fix attention. on _the other hand, the rule which declares_ the union of persons of the same blood _to be incest_ has been _hitherto unnamed_" (p. ), and he terms it _exogamy_; and (p. ) he says, "in all the modern instances in which the symbol of capture is most marked we have found that _marriage within the tribe_ is prohibited as _incest_." [ ] mr m'lennan (p. ) says, "we shall endeavour to establish the following propositions:-- . that the _most ancient_ system in which the idea of blood relationship was embodied, was the system of _kinship through females only_. . that the primitive groups were, or were assumed to be homogeneous. . that the system of kinship _through females only, tended to render_ the _exogamous_ groups _heterogeneous_, and _thus to supersede_ the system of capturing wives." that some tribes should have arrived at some such state through a perverted traditional notion of incest, would, on the other hand, perfectly fit into the theory of degeneracy. i had intended to have pursued this subject, but the chapter has already run to too great length. as allusion however, has been made to sir john lubbock, i append an extract (see p. ) from which it will be seen that his view, although equally remote from historical truth, has a greater _à priori_ probability. indeed, if we could only consent to start on the assumption of "an initial state of hetairism," nothing would be more complete than the following theory:-- "for reasons to be given shortly, i believe that communal marriage was gradually superseded by individual marriages founded on capture, and that this led firstly to exogamy, and then to female infanticide; thus reversing m'lennan's order of sequence. endogamy and regulated polyandry, though frequent, i regard as exceptional, and as not entering into the normal progress of development. like m'lennan and bachojen, i believe that our present social relations have arisen from an initial stage of hetairism or communal marriage. it is obvious, however, that even under communal marriage, a warrior who had captured a beautiful girl in some marauding expedition, would claim a peculiar right to her, and, when possible, would set custom at defiance. we have already seen that there are other cases of the existence of marriage, under two forms, side by side in one country, and that there is, therefore, no real difficulty in assuming the co-existence of communal and individual marriage. it is true that, under a communal marriage system, no man could appropriate a girl entirely to himself, without infringing the rights of the whole tribe.... a war-captive, however, was in a peculiar position, the tribe had no right to her; her capturer might have killed her if he chose; ... he did as he liked, the tribe was no sufferer."--_sir j. lubbock's "origin of civilisation,"_ pp. , . i will only ask one question. at what period does sir j. lubbock suppose the custom of inheritance through females arose? this as nearly approaches a universal fact as any which sir j. lubbock adduces (_vide_ p. , _et seq._); and, on the point of its having been a prevalent custom, i can have no difficulty. whenever through degeneracy man arrived at the state of promiscuity or communal marriages, such inheritance as there might be, in such a community, would only be claimed through females, as the paternity would always be uncertain (_vide infra_, p. ). if, however, mankind commenced with communal marriages, inheritance and relationship through females would also have been from the commencement. let us now turn to sir j. lubbock's theory, as expressed in the extract above, in which he shows us how marriage by capture would quite naturally have arisen out of the state of communal marriage. but if natural, it would have been natural from the commencement, _quid vetat_? there must then have been a system also in operation from the commencement, the inevitable tendency of which, by making paternity distinct and recognisable, would have been to substitute inheritance through males; and this system, by introducing a more robust posterity, would rapidly have gained upon the other system. male inheritance, it would then appear, commenced and established itself at the outset, and to the displacement of inheritance through females. how, then, do we find traces of the latter custom so prevalent? from this point of view the more instances sir j. lubbock accumulates, the more he will excite our incredulity and surprise. this theory again, equally with mr m'lennan's, supposes mankind originally in a state of hetairism, in which case it is futile to talk of tribes and of marriage out of the tribe; for how did they emerge into this tribal separation out of the state of promiscuity? the difficulty gets more complicated since, _ex hypothesi_, after emerging from, they still remain within the tribal limits, in the state of hetairism. these preliminaries must be settled before the argument can be carried further. the usual philosophic formula is, of course, at hand--these changes must have required an indefinite lapse of ages! into this swamp we shall see one philosopher after another disappear, leaving a delusive light behind him! if we could only, dante like, recall one of these philosophers to life, after he has passed into his state of nirvana, we would ask, as in this instance, why, supposing the state of promiscuity, it would require an indefinite lapse of ages to pass from it, according to the conditions of sir john lubbock's argument (_i.e._ to the state of exogamy); considering that, _vide supra_, "it is obvious that, even under communal marriage, a warrior who had captured, &c., would claim a peculiar right to her, and, when possible, would set custom at defiance." clearly, then, it only required the man and the opportunity. appendix to chapter iii. the view at p. substantially coincides with the lines laid down by blackstone (compare plato; grote's plato, iii. ), which are the subject of bentham's attack, and to which the recent contributions of sir henry maine to our knowledge in these matters would seem to run counter. blackstone, "comm." i. , said-- "this notion, of an actually existing unconnected state of nature, is too wild to be seriously admitted: and, besides, it is plainly contradictory to the revealed accounts of the primitive origin of mankind and their preservation two thousand years afterwards, both which were effected by the means of single families. these formed the first society among themselves, which every day extended its limits; and when it grew too large to subsist with convenience in that pastoral state wherein the patriarchs appear to have lived, it necessarily subdivided itself by various migrations into more. afterwards, as agriculture increased, which employs and can maintain a much greater number of hands, migrations became less frequent, and various tribes, which had formerly separated, reunited again, sometimes by compulsion and conquest, sometimes by accident, and sometimes, perhaps, by compact.... and this is what we mean by the original contract of society, which, though perhaps in no instance it has ever been formally expressed at the first institution of a state, yet, in nature, reason must always be understood and implied in the very act of associating together.... when society is once formed, government results, of course, as necessary to preserve and to keep that society in order ... unless some superior were constituted ... they would still remain in a state of nature." bentham says of this passage from blackstone, that "'_society_,' in one place, means the same thing as a '_state of nature_' does: in another place, it means the same as '_government_.' here we are required to believe there _never was_ such a state as a state of nature: then we are given to understand there _has been_. in like manner, with respect to an original contract, we are given to understand that such a thing never existed, that the notion of it is even ridiculous; at the same time, that there is no speaking nor stirring without supposing that there was one."--_bentham's "fragment on government,"_ p. (london, ). the previous and subsequent chapters (ii., xiii.), will be found to meet these strictures of bentham, although not originally written with reference to them. chapter iv. _chronology from the point of view of tradition._ to many it may seem a fundamental objection that my theory supposes a chronology altogether out of keeping with modern discovery; and i fancy there is a somewhat general impression that modern science has an historical basis, to which not even the septuagint chronology can be made to conform. this really is not the case; but assuming it to be true, i must still remark, that if facts of primeval tradition have been established, the long lapse of ages will only enhance our notions of the persistency of tradition; or if the lapse of ages is disproved, this conclusion will be in recognition of a truth to which tradition testifies. i shall now proceed to establish that the strictly historical testimony, and the direct historical evidence, is strikingly concurrent in favour of the scriptural chronology, allowing the margin of difference between the hebrew and lxx. versions.[ ] [ ] "aucune des trois chronologies bibliques, là ou elles ne s'accordent pas entre elles, ne s'impose avec une autorite suffisante soit au fidele, soit au savant. l'eglise catholique a laissé le choix libre entre ces chronologies et elles n'oblige pas même à en adopter une."--_"le monde et l'homme primitif selon la bible," par mgr. meignan, evêque de chalons-sur-marne_, . with this view i shall successively examine the chronology of the principal nations whose annals profess to go back to the commencement of things--the aryan (including the indian, the persian, the greek, and the roman), the babylonian, the chinese, phoenician, and egyptian. _indian chronology._--there was a time when the indian (aryan) chronology was believed to attain to the most remote antiquity of all, and this belief was sustained by the apparently irrefragable testimony of astronomical evidence. who upholds this evidence now? on this head i must refer to cardinal wiseman's seventh lecture ("on science and revealed religion"), where the reader will find a clear and careful _precis_ of the discussion on the subject between bailly and delambre, the _edinburgh review_ and bentley, to which i am not aware that anything of consequence has to be added. if, on the other hand, we turn to what i am exclusively directing my attention--the strict historical investigation--we find that the cautious inquiries of such men as sir w. jones and heeren concur in placing the aryan invasion at the antecedently very probable date, from the point of view of scripture, of some years b.c. at the present moment the discussion takes the form of philological inquiry, and into the antiquity (upon internal evidence) of the ancient sanscrit literature. in so far, therefore, as it is philological, it belongs to the indirect argument, which i am now excluding. in so far as the sanscrit literature is historical, i have discussed the testimony which it brings in the preceding chapter. professor rawlinson, however, in his recent "manual of ancient history," refuses to discuss the question, as he does not regard the maha-bharata and ramayana as "trustworthy sources of history," and commences his persian history with the accession of cyrus, previously to which he does not consider the aryan migration and settlement to have been completed. apart, then, from the peculiar line of argument to which i shall presently refer, it would appear that the indian chronology, as reconstructed from history and tradition, falls easily within the lines, not only of the lxx., but of the hebrew version. the indians, it is true ("hales' chron.," i. ), themselves say that their history goes back , , years. although hales gives a solution which may be deemed satisfactory, i think that, if considered in connection with the babylonian computation, it will be seen that, though inexact in their figure, they are accurate in their tradition. _the primary figure in their (indian) calculation_-- , --_is arrived at through the extended multiplication_ of the chaldean sossos, neros, and saros, _or of their own traditional figures_ corresponding to them (_vide infra_). in the chaldean system (_vide_ rawlinson, "anc. mon.," i.), and were employed as alternate multipliers. thus a "soss" = years ( × ), a "ner" = ( × ), a "sar" = ( × ); and if the multiplication be continued, the next figure would be , ( × ), next , ( , × ). _the indian figure , ,[ ] is made up of twice , ._ [ ] , is also the figure to which berosus extends the assyrian chronology. thus the indian fabrication commences at the point where berosus ends. professor rawlinson ("anc. mon.," i. ) gives in detail, and endorses a remarkable _eclaircissement_ of m. gutschmid on the mythical traditions of assyrian chronology. _babylonian chronology._--rawlinson says-- "assuming that the division between the earlier and later assyrian dynasty synchronises with the celebrated era of nabonassar ( b.c.), which is probable, but not certain, and taking the year b.c. as the admitted date of the conquest of the last chaldæan king by cyrus, he obtains for the seventh or second assyrian dynasty years ( to ). assuming, next, that b.c. , from which the babylonians counted their stellar observations, must be a year of note in chaldæan history, and finding that it cannot well represent the first year of the second or median dynasty, since in that case eleven kings of the third dynasty would have reigned no more than thirty-four years, he concludes it must mark the expulsion of the medes and accession of the third dynasty (which he regards as a native dynasty). from his previous calculations, it follows that the fourth dynasty began b.c. ; between which and b.c. are years, a period which may be fairly assigned to eleven monarchs. this much is conjecture ... _the proof now suddenly flashes on us_. if the numbers are taken in the way assigned, and then added to the years of the first or purely mythical dynasty, we get , , equal to the next term, to the sar (saros, _vide supra_), in the babylonian system of cycles." it will be more apparent in the following table from rawlinson, _idem_-- |---------------------------------------------- | | years. | b.c. | |----------------------------|-----------------| |mythical chaldæans | , | | | { medes | | | | { [chaldæans] | ( ) | | | { chaldæans | | | |historical. { arab | | | | { [assyrian] | | | | { [assyrian] | | | | { chaldæans | | | |----------------------------|----------|------| | | , | | |----------------------------|----------|------| _chinese chronology._--the chinese, also--though, be it observed, the chinese of modern date, according to klaproth ("mem. relatifs. à l'asie," i. ; klaproth places the commencement of the uncertain history of china b.c., the certain history b.c.),[ ] in the first year of our era, but more systematically in the ninth century--forged a mythological history, which carried the empire back , , years (another calculation, , , ). he adds, however, that the chinese themselves do not consider the wai-ki, the authority for these statements, to be historical. [ ] bunsen ("egypt," iii. ) says, "systematic chinese history and chronology hardly go back as far as the year b.c., _i.e._ to the reign of yü ( )." yet upon indirect philological conclusions, he would really take their history back _beyond the_ egyptian--iii. p. . "an explanation must be given why it (the chinese history) commences at a later period (as above) than egyptian chronology; much _later_, indeed, than is generally supposed. search must be made in _other quarters than_ the regular extant chronology for proofs of that _vast antiquity_, which the numerous _records_ of language _compel_ us to assign to the origines of the chinese." this vast antiquity may be measured by the fact that, _ex hypothesi_, it transcends the egyptian, and for the egyptian in his theory of progress and development, he requires _at least , years_ before the christian era. again, if we allow ourselves to be entangled in certain astronomical disputations, the question may become complicated and confused; but the astronomical discussion must depend, in the end, upon a point which history must determine--_i.e._ whether the astronomical knowledge and observations referred to had come down in primitive tradition, or had been imported at a later date. although it need not exclude a belief in a tradition of primitive knowledge of astronomy, yet the doubt will ever cause a fatal uncertainty in any calculations, since, if the knowledge, or the knowledge of the particular observations and facts, had at any time been imported, they might have calculated back their eclipses, as has been proved to have been done in india. let us then, excluding the purely astronomical calculations, closely scrutinise the evidence which tradition affords; for if we can discover tradition of "appearances of rare occurrence, and which are difficult to calculate, such as many of the planetary conjunctions," they "must," as baron bunsen observes ("egypt," iii. p. ), "either be pure inventions, or contemporary notations of some extraordinary natural phenomena." baron bunsen proceeds to say:--"one instance that may be cited is the traditional observation of a conjunction of five planets (among which the sun and moon are mentioned), on the first day of litshin, in the time of tshuen-hiü, the _second successor of hoang-ti_. suppose this should have been the great conjunction of the three upper planets which recurs every years and four months, and to which kepler first turned his attention in reference to the year of the nativity of christ. it took place in the following years. the one which occurred in historical times was in november, seven years b.c.; consequently the conjunctions prior to it occurred in-- yrs. mos. dys. --------------------- --------------------- and the conjunction in --------------------- the time of tshuen-hiü in according to the official chinese tables, as given by ideler, he reigned from b.c. to b.c.; but the dates vary to the extent of more than years, and the year comes within the limits of these deviations." baron bunsen, we may then assume, has very skilfully brought back chinese chronology to within _two generations of hoang-ti (supra)_. if we could further identify hoang-ti with noah, two patriarchal generations would bring us close to the date of the deluge as fixed by the septuagint, if we referred them, in the first instance, to the death of noah. before proceeding to this identification, i must point to another chronological fact in chinese tradition, which would give to this identification an antecedent probability. it was stated (bunsen, "egypt," iii. ) that hoang-ti established the _astronomical cycle of years_ in the _sixty-first year_ of his _reign_. at p. , bunsen says: "the scientific problem thus offered for our solution is the following--it is admitted that the chinese, from the _earliest times_, made use of a sexagesimal cycle for the division of the year = × days ( days), and they marked the years by a cycle of years, running concurrently with the cycle of days. this cycle, therefore, must have been originally instituted at a time when the first day of the daily cycle coincided with the first year of the annual cycle, _i.e._ when they commenced on the same day. ideler thinks it impossible to ascertain this, owing to the irregularity of the old calendar." we may ask, then, what year that could be named would so exactly satisfy these conditions as the sixty-first year of the reign of noah after the deluge?[ ] let us, moreover, consider how traditional this cycle of sixty years has been (p. ),--"scaliger made the remark that the twelve yearly zodiacal cycle, which is in use among the tartars (mongols, mandshus, igurians), the inhabitants of thibet, the japanese and siamese dated from _the earliest times_. among the tartaric populations, however, this is a cycle of sixty years ( × ); of the indians we have already spoken." [ ] martini ("historia sinica," p. , edit. monac.) asserts that the egyptians computed by the era of sixty years of _hoangho_. see de vignolle's "miscellanea berolinensia," i. iv. , on the cycle of months. compare ideler, app. ix., note from bunsen, iii. . humboldt ("vues des cordillères", p. ; prescott, mex., i. ) seems to say that, "among the chinese, japanese, moghols, mantchous, and other families of the tartar race" (compare mexican, do.), "their series was composed of symbols of their five elements, and the twelve zodiacal signs, making a cycle of sixty years duration." this is not incompatible with, the allegation that it is "the era of sixty years of hoangho." it will have already been seen that the cycle of sixty years entered into the chaldean system--viz. cycle of years = a sossos, years = a saros, years = a neros. "now when we find (bunsen, p. ) that six hundred years _gives an excess of exactly one lunar month, with far greater accuracy_ than the julian year, such a cycle must have been indispensable when that of sixty years was in use, and consequently must have been employed by the chinese, or, at all events, have been known to those from whom they borrowed the latter. josephus also calls six hundred years the great year, which may have been observed by the patriarch." and at p. , in summing up the general chronological result, he says:-- "_a._ ... the earliest chinese chronology rests upon a conventional basis peculiar to itself, that of limiting the lunar year by a cycle of six hundred years, which is common to the whole of north asia and the chaldeans; and probably (as it is also met with in india) to the bactrians also: this basis is _historical_." "_b._ the communication took place before the chaldees invented the cycle of six hundred years." from our point of view, believing that the chaldees never invented the cycle but held to it traditionally, the above conclusion must be construed to mean that the "communication," or diffusion of the knowledge, must have taken place before the lapse of the first six hundred years after the deluge, which will be further confirmed by conclusion _c._ "_c._ the chinese observation is based upon the babylonian gnomon," which appears to me tantamount to the admission that it took place, in the plains of mesopotamia, previous to the dispersion. in arriving, then, at the sixty-first year of the reign of hoang-ti, we are led up to such close proximity to the epoch of the deluge, that the presumption that hoang-ti was noah would be strong, even if no other evidence was at hand to corroborate it. it is with this supplementary evidence that i now propose to deal. although the tradition of the chinese is remarkably accurate, up to a certain point, yet in the period beyond that point, where the confusion is manifest, there is no reason why we should not expect to find the same reduplications and amalgamations of ante and post diluvian traditions, which we have already found in the history of other nations. without attempting to unravel all complications, let us turn again to bunsen (iii. ), and setting aside pu-an-ku, the primeval man who came out of the mundane egg and lived eighteen thousand years, and who has resemblances with the assyrian ra and ana, and the egyptian ra, the son of ptha (to whom thirty thousand are allotted, _vide infra_, p. - ), and sui-shin, "who discovered fire," and who is the counterpart of prometheus (_vide_ p. ). regarding pu-an-ku, the cosmical, and sui-shin, as the mythical tradition of adam, we come to the historical tradition in the person of fohi. "i. fohi the great, the brilliant (tai-hao) cultivator of astronomy and religion, as well as writing. he reigned one hundred and ten years. then came fifteen reigns. ii. shin-nong (divine husbandman); institution of agriculture; the knowledge of simples applied as the art of medicine." [compare pp. - , saturn, bacchus, Æsculapius.] "iii. hoang-ti (great ruler) came to the throne in consequence of an armed insurrection (new dynasty), and was obliged to put down a revolt. _in his reign_ the magnetic needle was discovered; _the smelting of copper for making weapons_;[ ] vases of high art, and money; improvement in the written character, said to be borrowed from the lines on the tortoise-shell. it consists of five hundred hieroglyphics, of which two hundred can still be pointed out. he established fixed habitations throughout his dominions, and the astronomical cycle of sixty years _in the sixty-first year of his reign_ (_vide supra_, ); musical instruments. it was in his time also that the fabulous bird sin appeared. the empire was considerably extended to the _southward_."--_bunsen_, . [ ] this tradition would seem to confirm bryant's ("mythology," iii. ) conjecture that hoang-ti was ham. but hoang-ti as ham, may absorb and incorporate, as we have seen in other instances, the history of his progenitors; and, moreover, whether he is noah or ham, would scarcely affect the chronological argument. if we take fohi as adam, the fifteen reigns which follow will bear analogy with "the fifteen generations of the cynic cycle" (_vide_ palmer i. p. , - ; also _vide infra_), and will correspond to the thirteen generations, viz. the ten antediluvian, and the three survivors (excluding noah) of the deluge in the egyptian chronology (_vide infra_). shin-nong, "the divine husbandman," will be noah, and hoang-ti, shem or ham, or else the two will be reduplicate traditions of noah. compare the attributions of hoang-ti with those of hoa in the assyrian tradition, p. . certain statements regarding him--_e.g._ that he suppressed an insurrection, accord more nearly with epithets applied to nin, the fish-god, whom i have considered a duplicate of hoa (p. ), _e.g._ "the destroyer of enemies,"--"the reducer of the disobedient,"--"the exterminator of rebels." compare with the phoenician tradition, p. , of saturn causing the destruction of his son sadid by the deluge. the appearance of the fabulous bird sin, seems a reminiscence of the birds sent out of the ark, which is so frequent in tradition. compare the mystery bird (the dove) in the mandan ceremonies,--the worship of the pigeon in cashmere,[ ] &c. other coincidences might be pointed if space allowed. [ ] on the worship of the pigeon in cashmere, _vide_ "travels in kashmir," by g. g. vigne, esq., f.g.s., ii. p. , . . but analogous to the double tradition of the deluge in assyria in the persons of hoa and nin; and, again, by a distinct channel of tradition in xisuthrus (_vide_ pp. , ), as in china, there seems to have been a similar reduplication in china in their kings hoang-ti and yao or yu.[ ] [ ] the reduplication may have occurred in this way. hoang-ti being noah, yao or yu may have been his descendant under whom they settled in china at the termination of their migration. this is confirmed by bunsen's view, iii. (iv. and v.) in which case it would not be at all unnatural to suppose that the traditions appertaining to the remote progenitor, would in time settle down upon the head of the actual founder. chevalier de paravey (_vide_ gainet, i. ), "a trouvé un hieroglyphe chinois qui nomme la femme de hoang-ti 'adamon' terre jaune, et si non signifie celle qui entraîne les autres dans son propre mal." this would merely be the confusion between noah and adam which we have seen to occur in almost every instance. is not the japanese god amida = adima, or perhaps to adamon--_i.e._, confused in relationship to hoang-ti or noah? what confirms the impression is, that adima's son is canon. query, chanaan. now under this yao or yu, according to chinese tradition (preserved, moreover, in the inscription of yu), there happened the deluge, or a deluge. but as there is a confusion between hoang-ti and yao, so there is between yao and yu. bunsen, however, admits these latter to be identical. but although bunsen asserts the authenticity of the inscription (as also does klaproth), he utterly scouts the idea that it is a tradition of the deluge, and maintains that it is itself evidence of a local inundation. let us see. "all the confusion or ignorance," says bunsen ( ), "of the missionaries [in this matter], arises from their believing that this event referred to the flood of noah, which never reached this country." and (p. ), he says the inundation in the reign of yao had just as much to do with noah's flood as the dams he created, and the canals he dug, had to do with the ark. this is said with reference to the "short chinese account of it published by klaproth," viz.-- "in the sixty-first year of the reign of the emperor yao, serious mischief was caused by inundations. the emperor took counsel with the great men of the empire, who advised him to employ kuen to drain off the water. kuen was engaged upon it for nine years without success, and was condemned to be imprisoned for life. his son yu was appointed in his stead. at the end of nineteen years he succeeded in stopping the inundation, and made a report to the emperor upon the subject." let us turn, however, from this later gloss to the inscription itself, translated by bunsen, p. -- "the emperor said, 'oh thou governor of the four mountains of the empire! the swelling flood is producing mischief; it spreads itself far and wide; it surrounds the hills, it overflows the dams; rushing impetuously along it rises up to heaven: the common people complain and sigh.'" --_vide supra_, p. . "the venerable emperor exclaimed with a sigh, 'ho assistant counsellor! the islands great and small up to the _mountain's top_; the door of _the birds_ and of beasts, all is overflowed together-- is swamped: be it thy care to open the way, to let off the water.'" he then says:-- "my task is completed; my _sacrifice_ i have offered in the second month, trouble is at an end, the dark destiny is changed; the _streams_ of the south flow down to the sea; garments are prepared; food is provided; _all the nations_ have rest; the people enjoy themselves with gambols and dancing."--(compare commemorative festivals, _infra_, p. ). i should have thought that all these phrases pointed much more to a universal deluge than to a local inundation. but bunsen says ( )-- "the fact is fully proved both by the inscription and the work of yu itself. the inscription was on the _top_ of the mountain, yu-lu-fun, in the district of shen-shu-lu. owing to its having become illegible in early times, it was removed to _the top_ of an adjoining mountain." ... "the former _locality_ tallies exactly with the very interesting description of the empire in the time of yu, which we find at the opening of the second book of the shuking." and bunsen concludes, "it may be presumed after this verification, that in future nobody will seriously doubt the strictly epic description of the shuking in the canon of yu," as above. so far from being impressed by the discovery of the monument on the top of the local mountain, as evidence of the local deluge, i can see in it only a memorial of the universal deluge localised; and i cannot help considering it in connection with the worship of the tops of mountains, of which we shall find traces elsewhere (p. - ). surely baron bunsen proves too much, and describes to us a deluge which must have been on the scale of the universal deluge for all countries below the level of the mountain yu-lu-fun. but, let it be said, that this description, so accordant with the description of the flood, was merely chinese exaggeration. i here wish to point out two curious coincidences. what if we shall find works similar of those to yao or yu, ascribed to the original founders in egypt and cashmere? as in the first instance, i shall have to quote from baron bunsen himself, i am surprised that the coincidence should have escaped his observation. "this is the account given of menes [the first king of egypt] by herodotus--menes, the first king of egypt, as the priests informed me, protected memphis by a dam against the river which ran towards the sandy chain of the libyan mountains. about stadia above memphis, he made an embankment against the bend of the river, which is on the south side. the effect of this was to dry up its ancient bed, as well as to force the stream between the two chains of mountains. this bend of the nile, which is confined within the embankment walls, was very carefully attended to by the persians, and repaired every year. for, if the river were to burst through its banks and overflow at this point, all memphis would be in danger of being swamped. menes, _the oldest of their kings_, having thus drained the tract of land by means of the dyke, built upon it the city now called memphis, which lies in the mountain valley of egypt. to the west and north he dug a lake round it, which communicates with the river--on the east it is bounded by the nile--and afterwards erected in it a temple to vulcan, a splendid edifice, deserving of especial notice" (ii. ). bunsen fully endorses this account--"herodotus, therefore, has recorded the following fact, that before the time of menes the nile overflowed the tract of country which he fixed upon as the site of his new metropolis" (p. and p. ). "there is no foundation whatever for andriossy's hypothesis that the story originated in the fact of the nile having once run westward from the pyramid mountains to bahr bela ma (stream without water) and the natron and mareotic lakes. herodotus mentions an historical fact, and describes the work of an historical king. andriossy's hypothesis, if well founded, would belong to geology." a sagacious and well-founded remark on the part of baron bunsen, but, as i submit, equally applicable to the work of yao or yu. merely noting that, if the above work was really carried out by menes, and it would have been, from the point of view of genesis, so carried out at a period contemporary with that of yao or yu--and, moreover, conceding to it in any case (i mean the work of menes) a certain historical basis--let us dispassionately compare both with the passage from klaproth, which i shall now extract. it is taken from the sanscrit history of cashmere.[ ] [ ] klaproth says:--"the only sanscrit history deserving the name of the chronicle of the kings of kashmir, radja paringin'i, translated by w. h. wilson."--_klaproth, mem. relatif à l'asie_. klaproth says:-- "the _hindoo_ history of kashmir assures us that the beautiful valley which forms this kingdom was originally a vast lake, called satisaras. this account is also agreeable to the _local traditions_ of this country. it was kasy'apa, _a holy person_ who, according to the hindoo historians, caused the waters which covered this valley to escape. he was the son of _marichi_, the son of brahma. the mahometan writers call him kachef or kacheb, and many of them pretend that he was a god, or a genius, and servant of soliman, _under whose orders he effected_ the drying up of kashmir. to execute _this task_ he made, near baramanleh, _a passage across the mountains_, through which the water passed.... the territory, recovered in this way by kasy'apa, _was also peopled_ by this holy man, with the assistance of the superior gods, whom he brought for this purpose from heaven, _at the commencement_ of the seventh manwantara, or that in which we are now." klaproth adds:--"we must therefore suppose that kashmir has been subjected to the same periodical revolutions as the other parts of the world, if we would reconcile this date with the ordinary chronology."[ ] [ ] compare the following account of existing customs in cashmir with the above extract from klaproth and ch. xi., with commemorative festivals of the deluge. mr g. g. vigne ("travels in kashmir," ii. ) says:--"what has been poetically termed the feast of roses, has of late years been rather the feast of signaras or _water_-nuts. it is held, i believe, about the st may, when plum-trees and roses are in full bloom, and is called the shakergal, from the persian shakergan, to blow a blossom [the mandan ceremony took place when the willow flowered.--catlin, p. ]. the richer classes come in _boats_ to the foot of the tukt, ascend it, and have a feast upon _the summit_, eating more particularly of signaras (_water_-nuts). the feast of the no-warh (new place) takes place at the vernal equinox [compare noah, taurus], at _which period_ the _valley is said to have been drained_. it is held chiefly at the _but_ or idol stone on hari par_but_." query--can this be "the ark or big canoe" in the mandan celebration? considering the prominence of boats in all these mysteries, and considering the resemblance of but to boat, and the like analogies in so many languages (sanskrit, pota = boat) (_vide_ vicomte d'anselme, _infra_, p. ), may we be permitted the conjecture until corrected. compare also p. , ogilby's "japan," cook. &c., p. . it must, i think, be conceded that we have now before us three very similar accounts of works undertaken with reference to the reclamation of inundated land. all are undertaken by the first founders of their respective kingdoms--kingdoms widely separated and inhabited by people of diverse race--and all, more or less, contemporaneously. the egyptians and kashmerian have points in common as to their mode of reclamation, whilst the chinese and kashmerian have still more in common with the narrative in genesis.[ ] [ ] i have since found this identical tradition (_vide_ p. ) among the mozca indians. "boshicha," it is said, "taught them _to build and to sow_, formed them _into communities_, gave an outlet to the waters of the great lake, &c." this seems demonstratively to prove, either that the mozca indians (south america) came from china, india, or egypt--which i have contended for at p. --or else, which makes the argument i have in hand stronger, they have transmitted an identical tradition by a different channel. four solutions occur to me as possible. either they were obscure or perverted traditions of the deluge, or their works were traditions of similar works effected by noah after the deluge; or these works were actually carried out upon the precedent and model of similar works effected by noah; or they were fortuitous coincidences. upon either of the three former conclusions, it will be shown that traditions of the deluge, direct or indirect, exist both in egypt and china, where it has been so confidently asserted that no tradition is to be found; and in the latter case, what is more especially to my purpose, a tradition which brings yao into relation with noah and hoang-ti. in conclusion, i must remark that when it is urged that there is no tradition, or but slight tradition, of the flood in egypt, we have a right to reply that there is no country where we should have so little reason to expect it. if there is any country where we should think it likely that the reminiscences of the deluge would be effaced, it would be in a country periodically subject to inundations, where the people are annually made familiar with its incidents, and where its recurrence is not to them a cause of alarm, but a matter of expectation and joy.[ ] [ ] "the chinese _who migrated before the deluge (sic)_ have no reminiscences, any more than the egyptians, of the great catastrophe which we know by the name of the flood of noah" (bunsen's "egypt," iii. ). palmer ("egypt. chron.," i. p. ) says, with reference to a certain date--"this is only for such as know the true date of the flood, the end of the old world--an epoch by no means to be named, nor even directly alluded to, by any egyptian." chapter v. _chronology from the point of view of science._ although the testimony of history is definite and decisive as to the chronology of the world, within the limits of a few hundred years, there is a general assumption, in all branches of scientific inquiry, that man must have existed many thousand years beyond the period thus assigned to him. lyell speaks of "the vastness of time"[ ] required for his development, and bunsen, as we have seen, requires twenty thousand years, at least, between the deluge and the nativity of our lord: and wherefore this discrepancy? because of a fundamental assumption--not merely hypothetical for the convenience of inquiry--but confident and absolute; an assumption which, so far as the argument is concerned, is the very matter in dispute--that man must have progressed and developed to the point at which we see him. [ ] "principles of geology," tenth edition, , ii. p. . at the same time, the actual chronology cannot be altogether ignored, and some cognisance must be taken of the facts which history presents to us; and it is this unfortunate exigency, interrupting the placid course of development, which not unfrequently lands scientific inquirers of the first eminence in difficulties from which it will take an indefinite lapse of time to extricate them; _ex. gra._, bunsen, in his "egypt," iii. , says-- "it has been more than once remarked, in the course of this work, that the _connection between the chinese and the egyptians_ belongs, in several of its phases, to the _general history_ of the world. the chinese language is the furthest point beyond that of the formation of the egyptian language, which represents, as compared with it, the middle ages of mankind,--viz., the turanian and chamitic stages of development." the conclusion of philology (_vide_ also brace's "ethnology," p. ) is, therefore, that the turanian or chamitic grew out of the more inorganic and elementary chinese. now, let us compare lyell's conclusions with bunsen's. lyell equally believes ("principles of geology," ii. ) "that three or four thousand years is but a _minute fraction_ of the time required to bring about such wide divergence from a common parent stock, 'as between' the negroes and greeks and jews, mongols and hindoos, represented on the egyptian monuments." at the same time, he endorses sir john lubbock's view, and pronounces, upon what appears to me very light and insufficient grounds (ii. ), that "the theory, therefore, that the savage races have been degraded from a previous state of civilisation _may be rejected_:" and by implication that the civilised races have progressed from the savage state may be affirmed.[ ] [ ] the ground upon which lyell pronounces this judgment is (ii. ) "that no fragment of pottery has been found among the nations of australia, new zealand, and the polynesian islands any more than ancient architectural remains, in all which respects, these rude men now living, resemble the men of the palæolithic age; when pottery is known to all, it is always abundant, and, though easy to break, is difficult to destroy. it is improbable that so useful an art should ever have been lost by any race of man." the argument is strongly put, but many things are left out of consideration. supposing the primitive knowledge, is not pottery one of the arts which would be most likely to be lost in a migration across the seas? again, that they had no pottery, and that the palæolithic age had no pottery, shows that in the interval there had been no progress. when will there be? as to the circumstance that it is the same among the australians and polynesians, the fact cuts both ways. you assume that there is a uniformity in progress, but may not there be the same uniformity in the processes of degradation? and, assuming the fact, may it not simply prove that these savages have reached the same depth as the other savages?--_vide_ appendix to ch. xii. i have, then, only to assume one point that sir c. lyell will concede, the order of progress or development to have been from black to white, and that he will pay us the compliment of being the more favoured race. but of all the races that are akin to the mongol or turanian, the chinese are the whitest, and most nearly approach the european in colour. how many years, then, may we suppose that it took the chinese to progress from the black state of the egyptian? as many, let us conjecture, as it took the egyptian to progress linguistically from the state of the chinese or mongol! this is one instance of the entanglement in which the theory of progress, pure and simple, from a parent stock will involve us. the obvious mode of escape would be to deny the unity of the human race, a conclusion which would at once land us in the darkness of a still lower abyss, and convert our processes from being scientific in form and hopeful of result, into empirical and aimless conjectures. for either the theory is started that the various races of mankind were created separately, in which case we fly into the face of the only account we have of creation, and also of the multiform testimonies which history and science bring to attest this truth, and we, moreover, debar ourselves from falling back upon any uniform theory applicable to the whole human race; or if, without advertence to creation, we suppose mankind to have been variously developed, here again we shall equally find ourselves cut off from the application of any uniform historical theory, equally unable to account for or to exclude the testimony of history, and in the end reduced to the evidences, whatever they may be worth, of certain real or fancied analogies.[ ] at this point, the historical inquiry will be virtually abandoned, and the records of the past merged in the phenomena of life, will be considered only in the light of some pantheistic or materialistic theory, or, so far as it is distinguishable, of some theory of evolution. [ ] the following passage from m. a. bastian's article in _the academy_, june , , "on the people of india," seems to me to afford an illustration in point--"the natural system becomes an indispensable necessity in every science, so soon as it is clearly seen that the question is not of classification, but of observation of, and insight into, law. classification was long held to be the sole end, instead of being merely or mainly the means of study. as, in this respect, systematic botany gave place to vegetable physiology, so, in like manner, ethnology will have to look upon its classification of race--with which the school books hitherto have been almost exclusively occupied--as merely a preliminary step towards a physiology of mankind, and to _a science of the laws_ which _govern its spiritual growth_." now, if no physiology of mankind, in the sense here intended, can be traced, and if "the science of the laws which govern its spiritual growth" (_vide infra_, an exposition of mr baring gould's theory) has come to no definite conclusion, then the only result, as far as science is concerned, will have been the revolutionising of its classifications, and the classifications of the different races of men (and, in so far as they have been accurately ascertained, their confusion will be matter of regret) is the legitimate and ultimate end of ethnology under normal conditions. i am no longer concerned with any of these theories the moment they discard the historical element; and i shall, accordingly, return to the theory of sir john lubbock, which is honestly based upon it. when all is said, i cannot make out that sir john adduces any argument in favour of the antiquity of the human race which does not resolve itself into the contrast between our civilisation and the degradation of savages; and that the time which must have elapsed to bring about this transformation is measured by the fact that the negro, of the "true nigritian stamp," appears upon the egyptian monuments, at least as far back as b.c. . "historians, philologists, and physiologists have alike admitted that the short period allowed in archbishop usher's chronology could hardly be reconciled with the history of some eastern nations, and that it did not leave room _for the development either of_ the different languages or of the numerous physical peculiarities by which various races of men are distinguished."[ ] as no facts in the history of eastern nations are adduced, i shall consider that this part of the argument has been sufficiently disposed of in the preceding chapters, and if they had been adduced, i venture to think that they would have been interpreted by the latter part of the sentence, and would have been incompatible with the chronology, only because they did not allow sufficient time "for the development," &c. of this sort of fact, i admit, nothing stronger can be adduced than the case of the negro on the egyptian monuments, only i wish to direct attention to the different aspect these facts will bear when the theory of progress is not assumed as an infallible proposition. moreover, as mr poole, whom sir j. lubbock very candidly quotes, points out, in the interval between this and b.c. we do not find "the least change in the negro or the arab; and even the type which seems to be intermediate between them, is virtually as unaltered. those who consider that length of time can change a type of man, will do well to consider the fact that three thousand years give no ratio on which a calculation could be founded." so that if arch. usher had expanded his chronology so as to take in the twenty thousand years bunsen requires, it really would not appreciably have affected the argument. sir j. lubbock, indeed, says (p. )--"i am, however, not aware that it is supposed by any school of ethnologists that 'time' alone, without a change of external conditions, will produce an alteration of type." "let us," he continues, "turn now to the instances relied on by mr crawford. the millions, he says, of african negroes that have, during three centuries, been transported to the new world and its islands, are the same in colour as the present inhabitants of the parent country of their forefathers. the creole spaniards ... are as fair as the people of arragon and andalusia. the pure dutch creole colonists of the cape of good hope, after dwelling two centuries among black caffres and yellow hottentots, do not differ in colour from the people of holland." [the strongest case is, perhaps, that of the american indians, who do not vary from a uniform copper colour in north or south--in canada or on the line.][ ] in these instances, sir j. lubbock says:--"we have great change of circumstances, but a very insufficient lapse of time, and, in fact, there is no well authenticated case [he does not, however, advert to the case of the indians, which seems to satisfy both conditions] in which these two requisites are united," ... and adds, "there is already a marked difference between the english of europe and the english of america;" but is full allowance made here for admixture of race? and, also, is his instance to the point? is not the difficulty rather that, whereas climate, food, change of circumstances have (for, i think, the balance of the argument is on that side), in many ways, modified other races (though whether to the extent of destroying the characteristic type, may be open to question), the negro has resisted these influences, and has remained the same negro that we find him b.c.? consider that it is only a question of degree, and that it is merely true that the negro has resisted these influences more persistently than other races.[ ] still the contrast is not the less startling when we find the negro in the same relative position, and with the same stamp of inferiority, that we find indelibly impressed upon him four thousand years ago? it is a case which neither the theory of progress, nor the theory of degeneracy, seems to touch. [ ] sir j. lubbock's "prehistoric times," p. . [ ] it has almost passed into a proverb, says morton--who is among those who know the americans best--that he who has seen one indian tribe has seen them all, so closely do the individuals of this race resemble each other, whatever may be the variety or the extent of the countries they inhabit." reusch's "la bible et la nature," _vide_ also card. wiseman's "lect. on science and rev. rel." lect. iv., _vide_, however, reusch, p. , where "a remarkable difference in the cranium" is noticed, "sometimes approaching the malay, sometimes the mongol shape." [ ] that the negro has undergone modifications, seems established by the fact that we nowhere find all the characteristics of the negro united in any one case--unless, perhaps, in the case of the negroes of guinea, to which i have alluded. yet, in the people who border them, there has been noticed "un retour vers des formes superieures." the yoloss, "out le front élevé, des machoires peu saillantes, leurs dents sont droites, et ils sont en général bein constitués, _mais ils sont tout à fait noirs_. leurs voisins, les mandingues, tiennent beaucoup plus du type négre ... mais leur teint est beaucoup moins noir."--de bur. ap. reusch, p. . but under no influences of climate has the negro ever become white like the european, or the european black like the inhabitant of guinea; if they become darker, "c'est simplement la teint particulier à leur race qui gagne en intensité."--burminster, ap. reusch, p. . but it is a case which de maistre's view exactly solves. now, however much we may rebel against de maistre's theory, that the early races of mankind were endowed with higher and more intuitive moral faculties than ours, and, whether or not, we accept his _dictum_ that great punishments pre-suppose great knowledge, and reversely, that higher knowledge implies the liability to great punishments, i do not see how we can refuse to consider the matter, so far as to see whether the view solves all the difficulties of the question. it is not the first time that the blackness of the african race has been connected in theory with a curse; but de maistre's theory throws a new light on the malediction--whether it be the curse of cham or of chanaan, or whether both were smitten, according to different degrees of culpability: and i maintain, further, that it is adequate to the explanation of the phenomena, that it does not clash with history, and that it is sustained by tradition. nevertheless, i apprehend that this view will be as much combated from the point of view of scriptural exegesis, as of scientific speculation. yet the curse of cham, or of chanaan, affecting all their posterity, ought not in reason to be more revolting even to those who have never realised what sin is, than the narrative of the fall of adam and eve with its direful consequences. the theory seems perfectly conformable to scripture, and to what we know of the secrets of the divine judgments. the picture of cham, or chanaan, stricken with blackness, does not present a more sudden or more terrible retribution to the mind than the fall of the angels. how many thousand years did it take to transform lucifer into satan? or the primitive adam into the adam feeling shame, and conscious of decay, want, and the doom of death? on the other hand, blackness, from the commencement, has been associated with evil. to this it may be replied that this is the sentiment merely of the white races--a natural prejudice of colour, an _ex parte_ deduction; and to this argument, if such is the view really taken by the black races, and if no consciousness can be detected of their degradation amongst themselves, i see no other reply than this, that since, _ex hypothesi_, they are black because they are cursed, the tradition of this curse would be more naturally preserved by the white races than by the black. but is there no consciousness of this inferiority in the true negro? without looking at the matter from the same point of view, i may appeal to captain burton's statements on this point as to a fully competent, if not the highest, authority that can be quoted on points of african travel. in the first place, he notices "the confusion of the mixed and the mulatto with the full-blooded negro. by the latter word i understand the various tribes of intertropical africa, unmixed with european or asiatic blood" ("dahome," ii. ); and p. , "i have elsewhere given reasons for suspecting, in the great kafir family, a considerable mixture of arab, persian, and other asiatic blood:" and as to the particular point in question, he says (p. ), "the negro will obey a white man more readily than a mulatto, and a mulatto rather than one of his own colour. he never thinks of claiming equality with the aryan race except when taught. at whydat, the french missionaries remark that their scholars always translate 'white and black by master and slave.'" p. , "one of mr prichard's few good generalisations is, that as a rule the darker and dingier the african tribe, the more degraded is its organisation."[ ] i find a very similar testimony in crawford's "hist. of the indian archipelago," i. . he says, "the brown and negro races of the archipelago may be considered to present, in their physical and moral characters, a complete parallel with the white and negro races in the western world. the first has always displayed as great a relative superiority over the second, as the race of white men have done over the negroes of the west." yet at p. he says, "the javanese, who live most comfortably, are among the darkest people in the archipelago, the wretched dyaks, or cannibals of borneo, among the fairest." it must be noted, however, that the javanese have also preserved something of primitive tradition--_e.g._ their marriage ceremony. and, moreover, it is not at all essential to the argument to prove that the negroes are the _most degraded_ race. let it be said that they have had their curse, and that the sign of the curse is in their blackness--this is merely equivalent to saying that they are cursed _pro tanto_; but it by no means follows that other races have not fallen to lower depths, and incurred a deeper reprobation.[ ] [ ] captain burton (ii. ) also quotes a catholic and a protestant missionary as to this point. m. wallon says, "avec leur tendance à nous considérer comme réellement supérieurs à eux, et leur croyance que cette supériorité nous est acquise par celle de notre dieu, ils renonceraient bientôt aux leurs idoles pour adorer celui qui nous leur prions de connaître." mr dawson says, "fetish has been strengthened by the white man, whom the ignorant blacks would not scruple to call a god if he could avoid death." assuming the identity of bacchus and noah, it is a striking circumstance, from this point of view, that the name of _bacchus_, among the phoenicians, was a synonymous term for mourning.--_vide hesychius in bryant's "mythology,"_ ii. ; _vide also the verses of theocritus_. comp. p. , _note_ (boulanger). [ ] perhaps captain burton's phrase (ii. ), "the _arrested_ physical development of the negro," may, if extended to his mental development, exactly hit the truth, the standard being fixed by the age at which we conceive the boy chanaan's development to have been _arrested_.--comp. _wallace, infra_, p. ; comp. . among the sioux indians, and in the isle of tonga (oceanica), i find trace of the tradition of blackness as a curse, and i should think it likely that other instances might be discovered. the former (the sioux), in their reminiscences of the deluge, relate, "the water remained on the earth only two days (for the two months during which the scripture says it was at its height), at the expiration of which the master of life, seeing that they had need of fire, sent it them by a white crow, which, stopping to devour carrion, allowed the fire to be extinguished. he returned to heaven to seek it. the great spirit drove it away, and punished it by _striking it black_."--"_annales de la prop. de la foi_," l. iv. ; gainet, i. . in tonga, the tradition is connected with this history of cain:-- "the god tangaloa,[ ] who first inhabited this earth, is this adam. he had two sons, who went to live at boloton.... the younger was very clever. tonbo (the eldest) was very different; he did nothing but walk about, sleep, and covet the works of his brother. one day he met his brother out walking, and knocked him down. then their father arrived at boloton, and in great anger said, 'why has thou killed thy brother. fly, wretched man; fly. _your race shall be black_, and your soul depraved; you shall labour without success. begone; you shall not go to the land of your brother, but your brother shall come sometimes to trade with you.' and he said to the family of the victim, 'go towards the great land; your skin shall be white; you shall excel in all good things.'"--_gainet_, i. .[ ] [ ] "annales de philos. chret.," t. xiii. p. . [ ] the expressions in the latter part of this narration recall the blessing of jacob, and suggests the possibility of the tradition having come through descendants of esau. cardinal wiseman (in his "science and revealed religion," lect. iii.), says, with reference to aristotle's distribution of mankind into races by colour:-- "there is a passage in julius firmicus, overlooked by the commentators of aristotle, which gives us the same ternary division, with the colours of each race. 'in the first place,' he writes, 'speaking of the characters and colours of men, they agree in saying,--if by the mixed influence of the stars, the characters and complexions of men are distributed; and if the course of the heavenly bodies, by a certain kind of artful painting, form the lineaments of mortal bodies; that is, if the moon makes men white, mars red, _and saturn black_, how comes it that in ethiopia all are born black, in germany white, and in thrace red?'"--_astronomicon_, lib. i., c. i., ed. basil. , p. . now this passage seems to me to have a still further significance in the words i have italicised, with reference to the argument i have in hand. it transpires, therefore, that the ancients had the notion that saturn made men black, which provoked the natural query, why then are only the ethiopians black? that it should ever have been supposed that the distant saturn, astronomically regarded, should have had such an influence is preposterous, but if the mythological personage, saturn, ch. x., has been sufficiently identified with noah, and the deification of the hero in the planet (comp. pp. , ) probable, the notion that _he made men black_, must be the tradition of the event we are considering. i have elsewhere traced the fulfilment of the text which says that canaan shall be the "servant of servants to his brethren;" but as the following extract from klaproth, in evidence of the same, has also its significance with reference to the point i am now considering--viz. the curse of blackness--i prefer to give it a place here:--"sakhalian oudehounga est expliqué en chinois par 'khian chéon,' et par 'li chu,' ce qui signifie les '_têtes noires_' et le '_peuple noir_,' expression par laquelle on designe la 'bas peuple' ou les 'paysans.' cette une expression _usitée dans plusieures pays asiatiques ainsi qu'en russie."--klaproth, "mem. relatif a l'asie;" vide strictures on pere amyot's "mandchou dict_." in the oldest books of the zendavasta, virtue and vice are personified as white and black. "the contrast between good and evil is strongly and sharply marked in the gâthâs.... they go a step further and personify the two parties to the struggle. one is a 'white,' or holy spirit (_spentô mainyus_), and the other, a 'dark' spirit (_angrô mainyus_). but this personification is merely poetical or metaphysical, not real."--_rawlinson's "ancient monarchies_," iii. p. . the contrast, however, between good and evil, as white and black was the genuine expression of their idea or tradition. (hung. ap. bunsen, iii. p. , admits, at least in one instance in the gâthâs, "an angra ('black') is put in opposition to the white, or more holy spirit.") mr hunter ("rural bengal," p. ) says of the primitive aryans in india--"the ancient singer praises the _god_ who 'destroyed the dasyans and protected the _aryan colour_" (rig. veda., iii. pp. - ), and "the thunderer, who bestowed on his white friends the fields," &c. whatever obscurity may attach to the latter passage, there can be no doubt of the abhorrence with which the singers speak, _again_ and _again_, of "_the black skin_," ... _e.g._ "the sacrificer poured out thanks to his god for 'scattering the _slave_ bands of _black descent_.'" although i believe the idea was traditional and had reference to the curse, i will concede that it might have arisen primarily in the contrast of night and day, light and darkness. but does this settle the question? on the contrary, fortified with this explanation, i return to my argument with those, who say that blackness is a mere prejudice of race, and that it is not demonstrable that it is the sign of a curse, or the mark of inferiority. does not nature herself proclaim it, in her contrast of light and darkness? day and night, i imagine, would be recognised as apt symbols of error and evil as opposed to truth and goodness, even among the black races, irrespective of any consciousness or reminiscence of their degradation. accordingly, the deeds of evil in scripture are spoken of as the "works of darkness." it may be, therefore, that the idea of blackness as a curse is derived primitively from its association with the darkness of night; but the fact remains that blackness is connected in our minds with a curse,[ ] and there is the further fact that a black race exists, and has existed during four thousand years, with this mark of inferiority upon it (compare _sup._ ch. iii. ix.) [ ] this is so much in tradition as to be a matter of common parlance--for instance, when the late emperor of the french is depicted, this is the language which, upon a certain construction, appears most natural--"on the other side stands a phalanx of satirists, represented by victor hugo. the only colour on the palette of those artists is _lamp black_. morally they paint the ex-emperor as _dark as a negro_, array him _in the livery of the devil_, and _then_ invoke the _execration_ of history."--_spectator_, sept. th, . but a point of some difficulty remains to be determined--viz. what precisely was the race which came under this ban. was it the whole descent of ham, or only the posterity of chanaan ? hales, in his learned work on chronology (i. p. ), discusses this question. he says that, whereas-- "even the most learned expositors (bochart and mede) have implicitly adopted the appropriation of the curse of servitude to ham and his posterity." yet "the integrity of the received text of prophecy, limiting the curse to 'canaan' singly, is fully supported by the concurrence of the massorite and samaritan hebrew texts, with _all the other_ ancient versions except the arabian; and is acknowledged, we see, by josephus and abulfaragi (_sup._), who evidently confine the curse to canaan--though they inconsistently consider ham as the offender, and are not a little embarrassed to exempt him and _the rest of his children_[ ] from the operation of the curse--an exemption, indeed, attested by sacred and profane history; for ham himself had his full share of earthly blessings, his son misr colonised egypt, thence styled the land of ham (ps. cv. ), which soon became one of the earliest, most civilised, and flourishing kingdoms of antiquity, and was established before abraham's days (gen. xii. - ), and in the glorious reign of sesostris ... while ham's posterity, in the line of cush, not only founded the first assyrian empire, under nimrod, but also the persian (?), the grecian (?), and the roman (?) empires, in direct contradiction to the unguarded assertion of mede [that 'there hath never yet been a son of ham that hath shaken a sceptre over the head of japheth.'] how, then, is the propriety of the curse exclusively to canaan to be vindicated?--evidently by considering him as the only guilty person ... upon the very ingenious conjecture of faber, that the 'youngest son' who offended was not ham, but canaan--not the son, but the grandson of noah. for the original, 'his little son,' according to the latitude of the hebrew idiom, may denote a grandson, by the same analogy that nimrod.... this (the former) interpretation is supported by ancient jewish tradition, 'boresith rabba,' sec. , recorded also by theodoret ... the tradition, indeed, also adds that ham joined in the mockery, but for this addition there seems no sufficient grounds." [ ] the italics are mine. there is, however, the tradition, and, moreover, a distinct tradition that ham was black. sir j. gardner wilkinson, in his "manners and customs of the ancient egyptians," i., says-- "the hebrew word ham is identical with the egyptian khem, being properly written khm, kham, or khem, and is the same which the egyptians themselves gave to their country in the sculptures of the earliest and latest periods" ( ). egypt was denominated chemi (khemi), or the land of ham, "as we find in the hieroglyphic legends; and the city of khem, or panopolis, was called in egyptian chemmo, of which evident traces are preserved in that of the modern town e'khmim" ( ). "besides the hieroglyphic group, composed of the two above alluded to ( ), indicating egypt, was one consisting of _an eye_, and the sign land, _which bore the same_ signification; and since _the pupil_, or _black_ of the eye, was called _chemi_, we may conclude this to be a phonetic mode of writing the name of egypt, which plutarch pretends was called chemmia, from the _blackness_ of its soil" ( ). "_chame_ is _black_ in _coptic_, egypt is _chemi_, and it is remarkable that _khom_ or _chom_ is used in hebrew for black or brown, as in gen. xxx. - ."--_id._ here then, at any rate, the name of ham or cham is curiously associated with blackness, and must have been so associated from the commencement of egyptian history. i leave it to the egyptologist to decide whether the presumption is stronger that the name of egypt, identical with that of ham, was originally derived from the blackness of its soil, or from the blackness of him whose name was identical with it ("the land of ham" being both the scriptural and egyptian appellation), more especially when "the eye" (apparently a personal or historical, not certainly a geographical allusion) was used as an equivalent hieroglyphic symbol for land.[ ] [ ] the eye would be the very most apposite symbol for blackness, if we consider that blackness lingers there after the skin has become white, and, in the case of half-breeds, is the test of descent in gradations even beyond, i believe, the octoroon. captain king ("narrative of a survey of the intertropical and western coasts of australia," ii. append.) says, "that although there is the greatest diversity of words among the australian tribes, the equivalent for 'eye' is common to them all." here, as in other instances, if we follow the strict lines of tradition, it seems to me that we shall escape all the difficulties which are usually alleged against it. it will result then that, although according to the text of scripture, the curse of servitude was limited to the posterity of chanaan; yet, seeing that the criminality was common to ham and chanaan, according to the tradition referred to, and as is, moreover, implied in the marked manner in which scripture (gen. xviii. ) indicates cham as "the father of chanaan," it is presumable that, if blackness was the concomitant of the curse, it extended to both ham and chanaan, and, by implication, to their posterity, but then _after the curse_. as chanaan, according to the tradition, was then a boy, all his children would have been affected by the curse; but does it follow that all ham's descent was involved in the malediction? this would be to suppose a retrospective curse, for which the only analogy would be the hypothesis that if adam had sinned after the birth of cain and abel, they and their posterity would also have incurred the guilt of original sin. now the sons of ham were (gen. x. ) "chus and mesram and phuth and chanaan," _i.e._, chus and mesram and phuth were the elder brothers of chanaan, and therefore not the children of ham after the pronouncement of the curse. if, then, we find the children of mesram dark, but without the negro features or the blackness of canaan; if "sesostris, his descendant, was a great conqueror;" if nimrod, the son of chus, was a powerful chieftain, and the founder of the assyrian empire; if nothing is known of the posterity of phuth beyond the conjecture that they were the lybians--in a word, if the descent from these three sons does not bear out the evidence of the curse, can it be said to militate at all against the hypothesis of the curse of ham as well as of canaan? moreover, if there are differences among the black races which may present difficulties, would not the knowledge that there may have been a posterity of ham, born after the curse,[ ] go far to remove them? hales, indeed, assumes that "ham himself had his full share of earthly blessings; his son misr colonised egypt," &c. (as _sup._); but this prosperity, as he indicates it, is only seen in the prosperity of his three sons, whom i assume to have been exempt from the curse. it must be remembered, however, that the occult science of the cainites was said to have been preserved by the family of ham, and, as we have seen, the taint was in the race.[ ] [ ] lenormant, "manuel d'histoire ancienne," i. , makes a similar suggestion as to this point--"la texte de la bible n'a rien qui s'oppose formellement à l'hypothèse que noè aurait eu, postérieurement au deluge, d'autres enfants que sem, cham, et japhet, d'où seraient sorties les races qui ne figurent pas dans la généalogie de ces trois personnages." but two objections seem to me to be fatal to this view. the races about whom this difficulty would be raised would be the red and black races: why should it be surmised that the supposed posterity of noah, after the deluge, _should_ have this mark of inferiority? in the second place, it does seem to be formally opposed to gen. x. --"these are the _families_ of _noe_, according to their peoples and nations. _by these_ were the nations divided on the earth after the flood." the red races might perhaps be accounted for by gen. xxv. - . [ ] there appears to me, however, a text to which attention might be directed. we know that the ethiopians were black, but in amos ix. , where god is expressing his anger against his people, he says, "are you not as the children of the ethiopians unto me, o children of israel, saith the lord." i am very far from claiming for these theories any special ecclesiastical countenance and authority. i have already intimated my opinion that, on the whole, they would be as much opposed from the point of view of scriptural exegesis as from that of unbelief. it will be said, for instance, that there is evidence in scripture of the curse of canaan, but no proof that blackness was the concomitant effect of the curse; and certainly it is not scripture which affirms this, but only tradition. to those who admit the curse, but deny the consequences which tradition attributes to it, i would oppose an almost identical argument with that which accounts for all differences in the human race by geographical location. i do not know where this argument is more forcibly put than in latham's "ethnology." there it is seemingly demonstrated that certain conditions, not merely of colour, but moral and intellectual, are the inseparable accompaniments of geographical location. grant it, _pro argumento_, but i am arguing now upon the scriptural evidence, and with one with whom i assume i have a common belief in its inspiration. it is true, then, that the curse of blackness is not recorded, but the distribution of the races is at least implied: deut. xxxii. , "_when the most high divided the nations, when he separated the sons of adam_, he appointed the bounds of people according to the number of the children of israel;" and acts xvii. , "and hath made of one all mankind, to dwell upon the _whole face_ of the earth, _determining appointed times_, and _the limits_ of _their habitation_." (the prot. version translates, "having appointed the _predetermined seasons_ and _boundaries of_ their dwellings." _vide_ hales's chron., i. , who adds that this was conformable to their own allegory "that chronos, the god of time, or saturn, divided the universe among his three sons.")[ ] [ ] _vide_ also ch. x., p. . the tradition that phoroneus, "the father of mankind," distributed the nations over the earth, _idem nationes distribuit_. if, then, the different races of mankind, according to their merits or demerits, were apportioned to, or miraculously directed or impelled to, respective portions of the earth, which necessarily superinduced certain effects, is not the curse as apparent in its indirect operation as it would have been in its suddenness and directness? this consideration must, i think, bring those who raise scriptural difficulties against the theory to the admission that blackness was a sign of inferiority, and that certain races were either smitten with, or were predestined to, in consequence of culpability, this degradation. this, i admit, is no reply to those who argue from the evidence of the egyptian monuments. but the evidence from the monuments, so far from embarrassing my conclusion, seems absolutely to enforce it. if, indeed, the evidence from the monuments did not stare one in the face, we might fall back upon the line of argument which i have just indicated, and whilst recognising in their blackness the operation of a curse, trace it in the lapse of centuries and the influences of the torrid zone. but they are recorded as being black on the earliest monuments known to us, and within a few centuries of the deluge. the conclusion, therefore, seems inevitable, that they were so from the commencement, which exactly hits in with the tradition of the curse of canaan. such, from his own point of view, is the conclusion of sir j. lubbock ("prehistoric times," p. )-- "if there is any truth in this view of the subject (p. ), it will necessarily follow that the principal varieties of man are of great antiquity, and, in fact, go back almost to the very origin of the human race. we may then cease to wonder that the earliest paintings on egyptian tombs represent so accurately several various varieties still existing in those regions, and that the engis skull, probably the most ancient yet found in europe, so closely resembles many that may be seen even at the present day." the following conclusion of mr wallace also exactly coincides with de maistre's view. lyell, in his "principles of geology" (ii. ) says-- "wallace suggests that at some former period man's corporeal frame must have been _more pliant and variable_ than _it is now_; for, according to the observed rate of fluctuation in modern times, scarcely any conceivable lapse of ages would suffice to give rise to such an amount of differentiation. he therefore concludes, that when first the _mental_ and _moral_ qualities of man acquired predominance, his bodily frame _ceased to vary_." but, although science in its own way may arrive at approximations to the truth, yet, if the traditional solution be true, assuredly it is not a solution which will be reached by any merely scientific process; and therefore, if it should be the truth, the ethnological difficulty will remain an enigma and embarrassment to the learned in all time to come. chapter vi. _palmer on egyptian chronology._ having probed the chronologies of india, babylonia, phoenicia,[ ] china, &c., and having found that one and all, when touched with the talisman of history, shrink within the limits of the septuagint, and even of the hebrew text, we come, perforce, to the conclusion, that there is one nation, and one only, which presents a _primâ facie_ antiquity irreconcileable with holy writ--viz. egypt. [ ] _vide ante_ ch. iv.; and also _vide_ palmer, i. . this impression is sustained by the knowledge, somewhat indefinite and in something disturbed, that the egyptian tradition had always attributed a fabulous antiquity to the dynasties of its kings, and that these dynasties have been marvellously resuscitated through the discovery which has enabled us to decipher the inscriptions on their tombs and monuments. my reader need not fear, however, lest i should plunge him into the chaos of hieroglyphics; not, indeed, that much has not been rescued from the abyss, and that there is not good expectation of more to come, but when once it is established, as we may now consider to be the case, that many of these dynasties were cotemporaneous, and not successive, an uncertainty is introduced which again reduces the chronology to primitive chaos, although floating objects in it, the _débris_ of tombs and dynasties, remain clearly distinguishable, and, in point of fact, have been perfectly identified. if we had no other evidence, i should feel irresistibly drawn to the dictum of m. mariette (ap. mgr. meignan, "l'homme primitif," p. ), "le plus grand de tous les obstacles à l'établissement d'une chronologie égyptienne regulière, c'est que les egyptiens eux-mêmes n'ont jamais eu de chronologie." i shall, on the contrary, from another point of view, attempt to show, not only that they had a chronology, but that this chronology has actually been re-discovered and re-constituted. in the conviction that this is the case, and that it is not sufficiently known that it is so, i shall devote some space to an abstract of mr william palmer's "egyptian chronicles" ( ), in which it appears to me that this exposition and solution is to be found. mr palmer at least has brought the egyptian chronology (upon the system of the old chronicle) to so close a reconciliation with scripture (upon the basis of a collation of the septuagint and josephus), that we have a right to compare any egyptologist making an attempt to advance into the interior to the monuments, whilst disregarding it, to a commander leaving an important fortress in his rear.[ ] as mr palmer takes his stand upon the old chronicle, and as the old chronicle has been in considerable disrepute with egyptologists (bunsen, i. ), i do not see that i can adopt a better plan of bringing the whole subject before the reader, than by confronting mr w. palmer's discovery and exposition with baron bunsen's strictures on the old chronicle. [ ] and yet, with the exception of professor rawlinson's "manual of ancient history," where mention is made of mr palmer's work as among eight principal works to be referred to on the subject of egyptian chronology, and of a series of articles in the _month_ on the same subject, i do not recollect to have seen allusion made to it. a previous perusal of the articles in the _month_ above referred to will greatly facilitate the study of this question. bunsen (i. - ) says (the italics are mine)-- "'the egyptians,' says syncellus, 'boast of a certain old chronicle, by which also, in my opinion, manetho (the impostor) was led astray.' ... the origin of this fiction is obvious. its object, as well as that of the pseudo-manetho, is to represent the great year of the world of , years, or twenty-five sothic cycles. the _timeless_ space of the book of sothis becomes the rule of vulcan.... _the number fixed for the other gods, , is quite original_; perhaps it may not be mere accident that it agrees with the computation of some chronographers for the period from the creation to b.c. the dynasty of the demigods reflects the same judicious moderation as in the scheme of the pseudo-manetho ( - / ). then comes a series of corruptions of the genuine manetho, _i.e._, of the manetho of the thirty historical egyptian dynasties. he is, however, confounded with the manetho of the dog-star, and hence it is that the fifteen dynasties of manetho are called the fifteen dynasties of the sothiac cycle. _but how is the number to be explained?_ is this entry to be understood in the same sense as the similar one in clemens, namely, that the first fifteen dynasties comprehended the years prior to the beginning of the last cycle, consequently prior to ? or is it simply taken, with a slight alteration by eusebius, to the fourteenth and fifteenth dynasties ( )? the following dates for the length of reigns are in the gross _evidently_ borrowed from eusebius.... in the sequel, there is no more reckoning by dynasties, but seventy-five generations are numbered, in order to make up the of manetho. so palpable is that,.... lastly, the dates and numbers ... are brought into shape by various arbitrary expedients; but eusebius on all occasions appears as the authority.... as the dates of the individual dynasties now run, years are wanting to make up the promised , years. _it is scarcely worth while to inquire where the mistake lies._" he finally pronounces the old chronicle to be the compilation of a jewish or christian impostor of the third century, or later. as mr palmer has not directly adverted to this passage from bunsen in his "egyptian chronicles," i will give an extract from a letter which i have received from mr palmer on the subject, which will clear off some of the tissues of confusion into which the strictures of baron bunsen have got entangled. "i assert, in the first instance (there being nothing whatever to the contrary), that we have the old chronicle in a _perfectly genuine form, i.e._ in the text of syncellus and africanus, but by no means in bunsen; and further, that it really is, and they from whom we have it _tell us it was_, the oldest greco-egyptian writing of the kind current in the time of africanus.... bunsen pronounces the old chronicle to be the compilation of a jewish or christian impostor of the third century ('eusebius appearing on all occasions as the authority,' &c.) in the _old chronicle_, as given by syncellus and africanus, there is _nothing whatever_ borrowed from eusebius; but eusebius has borrowed from and altered the old chronicle, so as to suit his own sacred chronology. the 'book of sothis,' too, has worked up and altered the old chronicle, with which it is by no means to be identified.... but i deal with three so-called manethos--viz. ( .) the original manetho of josephus and eratosthenes, who had only twenty-three historical dynasties of his total of thirty dynasties (the old chronicle, from which he took the number of thirty, having twenty-nine historical and one [that of the sun god] unhistorical); ( .) the manetho of ptolemy of mendes, which is the manetho of africanus, who has thirty-one dynasties, all pretending to be historical; and, lastly, the manetho of the 'book of sothis,' used by anianus and panadorus (to which last alone bunsen's ... mention of 'fifteen dynasties of the dog-star' refers).... if any figures in the manetho of the 'book of sothis' of the fifth century a.d., are borrowed from eusebius, there is nothing in this, eusebius himself having used and altered the old chronicle before, just as the author of the book of sothis or anianus may have used eusebius and the old chronicle. but i am not now dealing with the question of fact, whether eusebius' figures were so followed or not.... when bunsen says, 'perhaps it may not be mere accident that the figures agrees,' &c.; he should have said rather that some 'chronographers' 'agree' 'with it,' and perhaps so agree not by accident. i do not remember whether any one, or who in particular, of modern chronographers agree with it; but certainly if any do, it is _quite by accident_. the number , as given by the old chronicle to chronos and the other twelve gods, has no relation whatever to any reckoning of the year of the world to christ; and a chronologer might as well adapt his sum of years from the creation to christ, or to any other fanciful number, as to this. the truth is, that with the shorter numbers of the vulgate, many chronologers have made out sums of about four thousand years, some rather more, some less." in the somewhat lengthened extract which i have made (_sup._ p. ) from bunsen, _four_ figures ( , , , and ) will have struck the eye, which baffle even bunsen's penetration, and only make twice confounded what was confused before. but what if these four figures should all be accounted for? and, when accounted for, fitted into the chronology so as to be in keeping, not only with the other figures of the chronicle, but also with the systems of manetho and eratosthenes, as exactly as "the key fits the wards of the lock?" (_vide infra_, p. ), will not the matter begin to wear a different aspect? when the figures are shown to be imbedded in all the different systems which have been transmitted to us, will it then be said that the figures "are evidently borrowed from eusebius?" but, in fact, it is also demonstrated by internal evidence that the chronicle, as we have it, must be referred to the date b.c. this, then, is how the argument stands; but it is a matter of some difficulty to compass mr palmer's elaborate argument, and i cannot attempt to do more than to indicate its most salient points. premising that the sothic cycle (a period of vague, or fixed sidereal years) was connected by the egyptians with their recurring periods of transformation and renovation ("common to the mythologies of egypt and india"), and also that two such periods ( × ) = corresponded with the antediluvian period, or rather with the sum of the lives or reigns of the antediluvian patriarchs, inclusive of survivors of the deluge, with something added in order to throw the whole into cyclical form, all which is shown in detail in "egyptian chronicles," i. - , i may now proceed to mr palmer's analysis of the scheme of the old chronicle, which is thus given by syncellus, "probably from the manetho of africanus" (palmer's "egypt. chron.," i. ):-- "there is extant among the egyptians a certain old chronicle, the source, i suppose, which led manetho astray, exhibiting xxx dynasties and again cxiii generations, with an infinite space of time (not the same either as that of manetho), viz. three myriads, six thousand five hundred and twenty-five years-- st, of the aeritæ; dly, of the mestræans; and, dly, of the egyptians,--being word for word as follows:-- [dynasty i. to xv. inclusive of the chronicle of the gods]:-- time of phtha there is _none_, as he shines equally by night and by day [but all generations being from him] [first dynasty] [greek: hêlios] [_i.e._ ra, the sun-god], son of phtha, reigned three myriads of years, , then [dynasty ii. to xiv. inclusive, and generations ii. to xiv. inclusive] [greek: kronos] [or [greek: chronos], _i.e._ seb], and all the other xii gods [who are the aeritæ perhaps of eusebius and africanus], reigned years then [dynasty xv.] viii demigod kings [the mestræans of eusebius and africanus] reigned [as viii generations but one dynasty], years and after them xv generations _of the cynic cycle_ were registered in years then dynasty xvi. of tanites, generations viii, years then dynasty xvii. of memphites, generations iv, years of the same generations after whom there followed-- dynasty xviii. of memphites, generations xiv, years of the same generations then dynasty xix. of diospolites, generations v, years then dynasty xx. of diospolites, generations viii, years of the same generations then dynasty xxi. of tanites, generations vi, years then dynasty xxii. of tanites, generations iii, years then dynasty xxiii. of diospolites, generations ii, years of the same generations then dynasty xxiv. of saites, generations iii, years besides whom is to be reckoned-- dynasty xxv. of ethiopians, generations iii, years of the same generations after whom again there followed-- dynasty xxvi. of memphites, generations vii, years of the same generations and then after-- dynasty xxvii. [here the designation, generations, and years are purposely omitted; but the years are implied by the sum total, which follows below, to be certainly ] dynasty xxviii. of persians, generations v, years of the same generations then dynasty xxix. of tanites, generations , years and, lastly, after all the above-- dynasty xxx. of one tanite king, years ------ generations cxiii, years , sum of all the years of the xxx. dynasties, three myriads, six thousand five hundred and twenty-five (kings years)." these , years, when divided by , the sothic cycle (as noted by syncellus), give the quotient xxv. we need not digress into the conjectural reasons why twenty-five such periods were taken, rather than any other number. we will be content at starting to see in its relation to the cycle evidence of the purely fictitious character of its myriads of years, and a clue to the significance of the indication, "after them xv generations of the cynic cycle," &c. mr palmer (i. xxiii.) says, that the question which first suggested itself to him was-- "to what sothic cycle are these years or xv generations said to belong?" [for there was the doubt whether there was any _real_ sothic cycle at all.] "for a sothic cycle is not merely a space of egyptian years, but it is that particular space of such years, and that only, which begins from the conjunction of the movable new year or thoth, with the heliacal rising of sirius, fixed to th july of our gregorian calendar for that part of egypt which is just above memphis.... for the author of a chronicle ending with nectanebo, or at any date between the sothic epochs, th july b.c. (the known commencement of a cycle), and th july a.d. , 'the sothic cycle,' could only mean the cycle _actually_ current" [_i.e._ b.c. to a.d. = ].... "after this discovery, if the perception of a truism can be called a discovery, it followed naturally to observe further that in constructing a fanciful scheme ... ending at any other date than a true cyclical epoch, the first operation ... must be to _cut off all those years of the true current cycle_ which were yet to run out, below the date fixed upon, and to throw them back so that they might be reckoned _as past_ instead of being looked forward to as future. this, then, was what the author of the old chronicle had done; and, with an ironical humour common among the egyptians, he had told his readers to their faces the nature of his trick, ticketing and labelling the key to it (the years) and tying it in the lock, or rather leaving it in the lock itself." counting, then, back years of the "from the th july a.d. to th july b.c. , and more from th july b.c. , we come to th july in b.c. (if the years be fixed, sidereal, or solar years), or to th november , if they be (as they really are) vague egyptian years" ( b.c. being the year in which ptolemy lagi assumed the crown). [for the discrepancy between this date and the conquest of ochus, "at which the series of the chronicle ostensibly ends," _vide_ "egypt. chron.," p. xxiv.] let the reader now return to the scheme of the chronicle (_sup._ p. ). the analysis of the whole sum, , years, gives , years (to the sun), + (to xiii gods), + (to viii demigods), + (to the sothic cycle), + to kings from menes to nectanebo (the last native sovereign). so far we have only years, corresponding to an historical period, + of the cycle thrown up. it has been previously noted, however, that (two sothic cycles) correspond to the antediluvian and patriarchal period (i. ). the intricate part of the scrutiny will be found in the discrimination of the years (which, with + , make up the sequence of human time, a.m., to nectanebo) from the figures years in the analysis above. for the full and scientific discrimination, i must refer the reader to "egyptian chronicles," i. ; but for a simple demonstration, we may take the historical figures as above--viz. + + , added to the figures thrown in to complete the cycle (_vide infra_), viz. + , all which figures = , and deduct them from the whole cyclical number thus-- , , ------ , now, reverting to the scheme of the chronicle, we shall see the round number , years (being as it were an egyptian month, in thousands of years instead of days) apportioned off to the sun-god. to obtain this round number, the fractional number would have to be detached, and there being at hand the cyclical number years (two perfect sothic cycles), any number in reason of fractional remainders might be added to it, since with the symmetrical nucleus, the agglomeration would always be recognisable by the initiated, _i.e._ by the priests. the years were therefore added to , and also the fictitious years ("to make time from the beginning to run in the form of sothic cycles") were added, because _there_ they would cause no confusion; "whereas if they had been added to the years of the demigods, no one could any longer have distinguished the original fraction." we thus collect, therefore, those various figures into the sum which was the figure of difficulty--viz. ( + + + ), the _forty_ years included having merely reference to the point at which the current sothic cycle was thrown up--being the years intervening between the flight of nectanebo in b.c. , and the coronation of ptolemy lagi in b.c. . upon his own method, based upon josephus, who follows in the main the septuagint ("on a principle of compromise such as all readers, _whatever_ may be their system, may agree in accepting provisionally, and as an approximation"), mr palmer (i. - ) brings the scripture a.m. to b.c. , to a synchronism of "five years four months" and some days, with the egyptian computation. but the same key is made to unlock all the systems of egyptian chronology, and in the course of his two volumes of close and learned investigation, mr palmer demonstrates that "manetho, eratosthenes, ptolemy of mendes, diodorus, josephus, africanus, eusebius, anianus, panodorus, and syncellus, have, either of themselves or by following others, transferred dynasties, generations, and years of the gods and demigods of the chronicle, and even fifteen generations of ptolemies and cæsars, as yet unborn at the date of the chronicle, to kings after menes." let the above scheme of the chronicle be compared, for instance, with the scheme of diogenes laertius (which mr palmer conjectures, upon intrinsic evidence, to have been transmitted through aristotle). diogenes laertius' whole figure is , years, which contains for its fictitious part _thirty_ times = , , which, being deducted from , , , ------ , leaves for "true human time." now years are equal to those years + years + years, which alone in the chronicle belong properly and originally to the xiii gods and viii demigods and the last xv dynasties of the kings from menes to nectanebo, with only thirteen surplus years, _i.e._ from the conquest of darius ochus to alexander; "seemingly to the autumn of b.c. , when he first entered egypt." here i might conclude my outline of mr palmer's scheme, so far as is necessary to the vindication of the chronicle as against bunsen, were it not for the remaining figure (all the others, if the reader will refer back, have been accounted for)--viz. , to which bunsen refers. this figure is shown to correspond with the years of the hyksos or shepherds (i. , , _et seq._, , , ). dynasty xxvii., to which the years in the chronicle are attributed, has been displaced from between dynasties xvii. and xviii. of the chronicle, and its years are "restored to their true place and to the shepherds by manetho," and are given "by the theban priests, _i.e._ by eratosthenes, suppressing the shepherds, to the kings of upper egypt." as regards manetho (i. ) "having, besides the years of the chronicle, additional years of kings, of which ( + = ) only are in themselves, though not in their attributions, chronological, and having given of these (which are thrice and over) to his six early dynasties of _lower_ egypt (and sixteen inconvenient years he isolated between his dynasties xiv. and xv., so as to include them in his book i.), he gave to the three early dynasties of _upper_ egypt _no other unchronological years_ than two complementary sums, the one of (to the first), and the other, of years, to the second of the three dynasties, that these same sums might both coalesce with the remainder of sixty years belonging to the sum of the six dynasties of lower egypt, so as to make with it, or rather to indicate, the one of them the sum of , the other the sum of ." _vide_ table, p. .... sum of six dynasties of lower egypt, . but this sum is equivalent to + + = + + = + + = ---- but ( + ) = ---- ( + ) + = ( of dyn. xiv. of upper egypt.) ( + ) ---- ( of dyn. xv. of upper egypt in book ii.) the place of the years of the shepherd dynasty will be seen as clearly in the analysis of eratosthenes' scheme f. in "egyptian chronicles" (i. ), and if i had space i should like to give it _in extenso_, because it is upon his from menes to xviii. dynasty, that bunsen mainly relies for his fundamental theory (bunsen's "egypt," ii. xvi.) as the confutation of bunsen does not enter into mr palmer's plan, i think it worth while to add, that these years are thus made up , the true historical length of the epoch (from menes to xviii. dynasty), as we know from the chronicle (_vide_ palmer's _supra_), hence the significance of this figure in table above, + of the cycle added, + of dyn. xviii. encroached upon[ ] for the symmetrical purpose displayed in scheme f, in which scheme it will be seen that the years of the shepherds again enter as a constituent part. [ ] it will be understood that, in the above scheme and throughout, mr palmer assumes the existence of cotemporaneous dynasties elsewhere demonstrated. it is admitted, on all hands, that cotemporary dynasties ceased with the xviii. dynasty; and, in the other direction, all schemes commence with menes. if, then, this interval of time is known or determined by one part of a scheme (as it is known from the chronicle to be years), and at the same time, the exigences of the case (owing to fictitious additions) require the location of other figures within the interval, then the super-additions must overlap (apparently to those who know years to be the true historical figure) at one end or the other. one hundred and fifty-six years (as above) is the extent of the overlapping (the years of the cycle standing apart) in the scheme of eratosthenes. but as i am merely indicating the scheme, and not elaborating the argument, i must here part company with mr palmer. if, however, any one wishes to examine the question more in detail, and seeks to know in what manner the years in the above scheme are apportioned among the different generations and dynasties, he must take up with mr palmer at i. p. . my purpose is sufficiently answered by establishing that a scheme exists, if not irrefutable, at least up to this unconfuted, which perfectly harmonises the scriptural with the egyptian chronology. chapter vii. _the tradition of the human race._ "tradition reveals the past to us, and consequently it reveals to us also the future. it is the tie which binds the past, the present, and the future together, and is the science of them all. if we possessed the memory of mankind, as we do that of our personal existence, we should know all. but if we have not the memory of mankind, does not mankind possess it? is mankind without memory, without tradition?... there is no nation which does not exist through tradition, not only historical traditions relative to its earthly existence, but through religious traditions relative to its eternal destiny. to despise this treasure, what is it but to despise life, and that which constitutes its connection, its unity, its light, as we have just seen?... when god spoke to men his word passed into time ... happily tradition seized upon it as soon as it left the threshold of eternity; and tradition is neither an ear, nor a mouth, nor an isolated memory, but the ear, the mouth, and the memory of generations united together by tradition itself, and imparting to it an existence superior to the caprices and weakness of individuals. nevertheless, god would not trust to oral tradition alone ... symbolical tradition was to add itself to oral tradition by sustaining and confirming it ... the five terms constituting the mystery of good and evil: the existence of god, the creation of the world and of man by god, the fall of man, his restoration by a great act of divine mercy, and, lastly, the final judgment of mankind ... and that which oral tradition declared, symbolical tradition should repeat at all times and in all places, in order that the obscured or deceived memory of man might be brought back again to truth by an external, a public, an universal, all-powerful spectacle. [lacordaire is speaking principally with reference to sacrifice and the sacrifice of mount calvary.] ... each time that oral tradition underwent a movement of renovation by the breath of god, symbolical tradition felt the effects of it. the sacrifice of abel marks the era of patriarchal tradition; the sacrifice of abraham marks the era of hebrew tradition; the sacrifice of jesus christ, the final and consummating sacrifice, marks the era of christian tradition.... such is the nature of tradition, and such its history. tradition is the connection of the present with the past, of the past with the future; it is the principle of identity and continuity which forms persons, families, nations, and mankind. it flows in the human race by three great streams which are clearly perceptible--the christian, the hebrew, and the patriarchal or primitive; in all these three it is oral and symbolical, and whether as oral or symbolical it speaks of god, the creation, the fall, reparation and judgment.... without occupying ourselves with the question as to whether scripture was a gift from above or an invention of men, we see that there exists two kinds of it--human and sacred scripture. i understand by human scripture, that which is considered by men as the expression of the ideas of a man; i understand by sacred scripture that which is venerated by nations as containing something more than the ideas of a man.... there are in the world an innumerable quantity of books, nevertheless there are but six of them which have been venerated by nations as sacred. these are the 'kings' of china, the vedas of india, the zend-avesta of the persians, the koran of the arabs, the law of the jews, and the gospel. and at first sight i am struck with this rarity of sacred writings. so many legislators have founded cities, so many men of genius have governed the human understanding, and yet all these legislators, all these men of genius, have not been able to cause the existence of more than six sacred books upon earth!... every sacred book is a traditional book, it was venerated before it existed, it existed before it appeared. the koran, which is the last of the sacred writings in the order of time, offers to us a proof of this worthy of our thoughtful attention. without doubt, mahommed relied upon pretended revelations; however, it is clear to all those who read the koran, that the abrahamic tradition was the true source of its power.... the same traditional character shines upon each page of the christian and hebrew books; we find it also in the zend-avesta, the vedas, and the kings of the chinese. tradition is everywhere the mother of religion; it precedes and engenders sacred books, as language precedes and engenders scripture; its existence is rendered immovable in the sacred books ... a sacred book is a religious tradition which has had strength enough to sign its name.... the sacred writings are, then, traditional; it is their first character. i add that they are constituent, that is to say, they possess a marvellous power for giving vitality and duration to empires. strange to say, the most magnificent books of philosophers have not been able to found, i do not say a people, but a small philosophical society; and the sacred writings, without exception, have founded very great and lasting nations. thus the kings founded china, the vedas india, &c.... look at plato ... how is it that plato has not been able to constitute, i do not say a nation, but simply a permanent school? how is it that communities totter when thinkers meddle with them, and that the _precise moment of their fall_ is that when men announce to them that mind is emancipated, that the old forms which bound together human activity are broken, that the altar is undermined and reason is all-powerful? philosophers! if you speak the truth, how is it that the moment when all the elements of society become more refined and develop themselves, _is the moment of its dissolution_?"--_from père lacordaire's "conferences." conf. and ._ (tran. h. langdon; richardson, .) i should also wish m. auguste nicolas' "etudes philosophiques sur le christianisme"--particularly lib. i. chap. v., "necessite d'une revelation primitive;" and lib. ii. chap. iv., "traditions universelles"--to be read in connection with the following chapter. i did not become acquainted with m. nicolas until after the chapter was concluded. i have, however, fulfilled my obligations in the above extract from l'abbe lacordaire, which lies more _au fond_ of my view than the chapters referred to in m. nicolas. i also wish to direct attention to a remarkable article in the _home and foreign review_, jan. , entitled "classical myths in relation to the antiquity of man," signed f. a. p. tradition, in the sense in which we have just seen it used by lacordaire, in what we may call its widest signification, is not limited to oral tradition, but may be termed the connection of evidence which establishes the unity of the human race; and, with this evidence, establishes the identity and continuity of its belief, laws, institutions, customs, and manners (manners, _vide_ goguet's "origin of laws," i. - ). the more closely the tradition is investigated, the more thoroughly will it be found to attest a common origin, and the more fully will its conformity with the scriptural narrative be made apparent. now, although in all ages there have been men of great intellect who have held to tradition, it may be stated as one of those truths, _qui saute aux yeux_, and which will not be gainsaid, that the human intellect has been throughout opposed to tradition, has been its most constant adversary, equally when it was the tradition of a corrupt polytheism, as when it was the tradition of uncontested truth; and so active has been this antagonism, that the marvel is that anything of primitive tradition should have remained. hence arose the divergence between religion and philosophy--a divergence which, as it seems to me, is inexplicable from the point of view of those who believe that, in the centuries which preceded the coming of our lord,[ ] religion simply was not, had ceased to be; unless we suppose that a tradition of the antagonism had survived, which would still partially disclose how it came about that when religion had ceased to be (_pro argumento_), or had become corrupt, philosophy, which then (_ex hypothesi_) alone soared above the intellect of the crowd, did not, and could not become a religion to them, _infra_, pp. , , . [ ] such appears to me to be the conclusion of mr allies in his learned work ("the formation of christendom," ii. chap. viii. ), "universality of false worship in the most diverse nations the summing up of man's whole history." i request attention, however, to the following passage, at page , which has an especial bearing upon my argument:--"no doubt the greek mind had lived and brooded for ages upon the remains of original revelation, nor can any learning now completely unravel the interwoven threads of tradition and reason so as to distinguish their separate work. however, it is certain that in the sixth century b.c., the greeks were without a hierarchy, and without a definite theology: not indeed without individual priesthoods, traditionary rites, and an existing worship, as well as certain mysteries which professed to communicate a higher and more recondite doctrine than that exposed to the public gaze. but in the absence of any hierarchy ... a very large range indeed was given to the mind, acting upon this shadowy religious belief, and re-acted upon by it, to form their philosophy. the greeks did not, any more than antiquity in general, use the acts of religious service for instruction by religious discourse. in other words, there was no such thing as preaching among them. a domain, therefore, was open to the philosopher, on which he might stand without directly impeaching the ancestral worship, while he examined its grounds, and perhaps _sapped its foundations_. he was therein taking up a position which these priests, the civil functionaries of religious rites, _scarcely any longer_ retaining a spiritual meaning or a moral cogency, had not occupied." and the history of this antagonism seems to be, that the human intellect has ever had, and now more confidently than ever, the aim and ambition to substitute something better than the revelation of primitive tradition, and the experiences of the human race. it is quite conceivable that human life and human institutions might have been arranged upon some scheme different from that of the divine appointment; and although we may believe that any such scheme would result in ultimate confusion and the final extinction of the human race, it is still theoretically possible that the experiment might have been made.[ ] [ ] take for instance mr j. s. mill's peculiar views as to the status of women, "the law of servitude in marriage" ["wives be obedient to your husbands," st paul], he says, "is in monstrous contradiction to all the principles of the modern world" (p. ). "marriage is the only actual bondage known to our law," _id._ but at p. , mr mill says, "the general opinion of men is supposed to be, that the natural vocation of a woman is that of a wife and mother." but he then adds (p. ), "it will not do to assert in general terms that the experience of mankind has pronounced in favour of the existing system. experience cannot possibly have decided between two courses, so long as there has only been _experience of one_. if it be said that the doctrine of the equality of the sexes rests only on theory, it must be remembered that the contrary doctrine also has only theory to rest upon. all that is proved in its favour by direct experience, is that mankind have been able to exist under it, and to attain the degree of improvement and prosperity which we now see; but whether that prosperity has been attained sooner, or is now greater than it would have been under the other system, experience does not say." take in illustration, again, the communistic schemes as against the institution of property. now, although christianity has realised all that will ever be possible in the way of communism in its religious orders, the communistic sects have always instinctively directed their first efforts against religion as against the basis of the social order of things which they attacked. this was forcibly brought out in certain letters on "european radicalism," in the _pall mall gazette_, october and november , _e.g._ "all the contests on the three capital questions ('government, property, religion') which we are now engaged in, are but continuations of the _original divergence_ of opinion (before settled government), considerably modified, of course, under the influence of time, the various _traditional notions_ mankind preserves under the _name of beliefs_, and the whole stock of experience it has accumulated under the name of knowledge. so like, indeed, are the ancient and modern contests on these matters," &c.... (letter i.) again (letter v.), speaking of our english socialist discussing "the necessity of building social edifices upon material, not religious grounds," the writer adds, that among continental socialists "no one thinks there of the possibility of matters standing otherwise;" and that in the socialist workshops of france and germany it is well known "that the very basis of social radicalism requires the abandonment of all kinds of religious discussion, as matter of purely personal inclination, and the abolition of all kinds of privileges as incompatible with equality." [all this has been put out of date by the deeds of the commune and the programme of the "international society"--viz. "_the burning of paris_ we _accept the responsibility of_. _the old society must_ and will perish."] the _spectator_, december , speaks still more explicitly:--"infirm and crippled though she be, the roman church is still the only one who has the courage to be cosmopolitan, and claim the right to link nation with nation, and literature with literature. such an assembly as the council is, at least, an extraordinary testimony to the cosmopolitanism of the great church which seems trembling to its fall; and who can doubt that that fall, whenever it comes, will be followed by a great temporary loosening of the faith in human unity--in spite of the electric telegraph--by a deepening of the chasm between nation and nation, by the loss of at least a most potent spell over the imagination of the world, by a contraction of the spiritual ideal of every church? this ideal, even protestants, even sceptics, even positivists have owed, and have owned that they owed, to the roman church, the only church which has really succeeded in uniting the bond between any one ecclesiastical centre and the distant circumference of human intelligence and energy. but if the consequence of the collapse of romanism would be in this way a loss of power to the human race, think only of the gain of power which would result from the final death of sacerdotal ideas, from the final blow to the system of arbitrary authority exercised over the intellect and the conscience, from the new life which would flow into a faith and science resting on the steady accumulation of moral and intellectual facts and the personal life of the conscience in christ--from the final triumph of moral and intellectual order and freedom. it would doubtless be a new life, subject to great anarchy at first; but the old authoritative systems have themselves been of late little more than anarchy just kept under by the authority of prescription and tradition; and one can only hope for the new order from the complete recognition that it is to have no arbitrary or capricious foundation." here comes in, with its full significance, the great saying of lacordaire's--"order i compare to a pyramid reaching from heaven to earth. men cannot overthrow its base, because the finger of god rests upon its apex." if the finger of god did not so rest, there is no assignable reason why this pyramid--this incubus, as some would call it--which goes back, stone upon stone, to the primitive ages, should not have been overturned, and some system purely atheistical, purely material, purely communistic, substituted for it. but i believe that no democratic organisation, however extended among the masses, will overthrow the established order of things, so long as the possessors of property, the upper classes, are true to the objects for which property was instituted. considering how much man has effected in the material order, and considering also the varied intellectual faculties with which he is endowed, it strikes one as strange, as something which has to be accounted for, that he has been able to effect so little in the moral order. it is the same whether we regard the action of the intellect upon the individual man, or upon society. and from this latter point of view it is so true, that it is more than doubtful whether those epochs in which man has attained the highest point of intellectual and material civilisation, are not those also in which he has reached the lowest depths of immorality;[ ] and in which--having touched the lowest point of corruption--the human intellect is unable to devise any better plan for the government of mankind, than the repression of despotism.[ ] [ ] "it is, upon the whole, extremely doubtful whether those periods which are the richest in literature, possess the greatest shares, either of moral excellence or of political happiness. we are well aware that the true and happy ages of roman greatness long preceded that of roman refinement and roman authors; and, i fear, there is but too much reason to suppose that in the history of the modern nations we may find many examples of the same kind" (f. schlegel's "history of literature," i. ). see also the account of the corruption of morals in rome in the augustan period (allies' "form. of christendom," i. lect. i.) "it is curious to observe that the more eloquent, polite, and learned the greeks became, in the same proportion they became the more degraded and corrupt in their national religion" (godfrey higgins' "celtic druids," , p. ). [ ] "il n'y a, messieurs, que deux sortes de repression possibles: l'une intérieure, l'autre extérieure.... elles sont de telle nature que quand le thermomètre politique est élevé, le thermomètre de la religion est bas, et quand le thermomètre religieux est bas, le thermomètre politique, la repression politique, la tyrannie s'élève. ceci est une loi de l'humanité, une loi de l'histoire." _vide_ disc. de donoso cortes (marq. de valdegamas), th january ; in which he pursues this remarkable parallelism throughout history. but if the human intellect cannot prevent or control corruption, cannot it disenchant vice of its evil, and so counteract its effects? is there no new conception of virtue with which to allure mankind? no second decalogue which will attract by its novelty, or convince by logical cogency and force? the comtists, i believe, have a scheme for setting all these things right. but what portion of mankind do they influence? they are at present formidable only as may be the cloud on the horizon, nor have they found sympathy even where they might have had some expectation of finding it. if there was any separate section of mankind which might have given them countenance, it would, one would think, be the rationalist section, whose principles would disincline them to regard old modes of thought with undue partiality. it is from this quarter, if i mistake not, that the unkindest cut has come, and that it has been said that "the latter half of comte's career and writings is the despair and bewilderment of those who admire the preceding half;" yet in this latter half he only aimed at converting rationalism from a negative to a positive system. but, allowing that a system of some sort might thus be constructed, can positivism be defined as more than the system of those who are positive by mutual consent and agreement without faith or certainty, and who are the more positive in proportion as they recede from catholic truth and tradition. we, however, who believe in the identity of catholicism and christianity, may still appreciate professor huxley's definition of positivism, viz.--"catholicism _minus_ christianity."[ ] [ ] montalembert ("disc. de reception," , discours iii. pp. , , , ) says of the constituent assembly of --"it was the assembly of which made the word revolution the synonyme of methodical destruction, of permanent war against all order and all authority.... it had that mania for uniformity which is the parody of unity, and which montesquieu called the passion of mediocre minds.... in a word, the constituent assembly was wanting not only in justice, courage, and humanity, but it was also deficient in good sense. the evil which it created has survived it. it has made us believe that it is possible to destroy everything and to reconstruct everything in a day.... god has chastised it, above all, by the sterility of its work. it had had the pretence of laying the foundations of liberty for ever, and it had for its successors the most sanguinary tyrants who ever dishonoured any nation. its mission was to re-establish the finances, the empire of the law, and it has bequeathed to france bankruptcy, anarchy, and despotism--despotism without even the repose which they have wrongly taken as the compensation of servitude. it has done more: it has left pretexts for every abuse of force, and precedents for any excess of future anarchy. [montalembert could hardly have foreseen the last application of its principles which we have recently witnessed in paris by the commune, which, too, forsooth, was to have inaugurated a new era for humanity.] but it (this constituent assembly) founded nothing--nothing! the ancient society which it reversed had lasted, in spite of its abuses, a thousand years." can any one adduce a more typical representative of the clear, powerful, penetrating intellect of man than voltaire! voltaire, moreover, had the aim and ambition ("ecraser l'infame") to obliterate the tradition of the past; yet can there be a better example of the impotence of the intellect in the moral order? does it not seem startling that, when the human intellect, as in the case of voltaire, should be able to detect with so much acumen, so much wit, what is wrong, that it should be wholly struck with sterility when it attempts to tell us what is right, to reveal to man any truth in the moral order not traditionally known to them. and if the disciples of voltaire have occasionally, in spasmodic efforts, attempted this, it has not been in the manner of voltaire; it has been in the spirit of eclecticism, of reconstruction out of the elements of the past--that is to say (with pardon, if the phrase has been used before), an attempt to create, out of the elements he would have spurned, edifices which he would have derided. now, the pretension of the human intellect is quite contrary to this experience. it claims to have progressively elevated mankind out of a state of primitive barbarism, to have indoctrinated them with the ideas of morality which they possess, to have humanised them, and thus affirms the converse of the theory of tradition which it pursues with much unreasoning and implacable animosity. the _saturday review_ (july , ), in reviewing mr gladstone's "juventus mundi," says--"mr gladstone is doubtless well aware that there was no portion of his homeric studies which was received with more surprise, or with more unfavourable comment, than his speculations on what he described as the traditive and the inventive elements in the homeric mythology."[ ] in consequence, mr gladstone says he has endeavoured to avoid in his more recent work "a certain crudity of expression." the _saturday review_, however, says--"that 'the crudity of expression' here referred to seems to have been corrected and modified to some extent by disguising the process of argument by which it was sustained, and by the adoption of a lighter touch and slighter treatment of the subject than in the former book. but the theory itself, we believe, remains the same." [ ] from a purely philosophical point of view, why should these speculations of mr gladstone have been received "with more surprise and unfavourable comment" than any other "portions of his homeric studies?" i may assume, then, that the passage which i have elsewhere quoted from mr gladstone, and laid as the basis of my argument, still has his countenance and support, in spite of the manifest antagonism it has provoked. and this passage, i venture to think, acquires fresh light and an accession of force when placed in juxtaposition with the parallel passages from de maistre and dr newman. these passages will present no difficulties to the believer in the bible. how far the view is sustainable, with reference to the more recent conclusions in chronology, i shall consider in another chapter; but, assuming that it is not chronologically disproved, there is no intrinsic impossibility which will debar belief. the general probability of tradition being thus avouched,[ ] i proceed to examine certain statements that have been made as to its necessary variability, and as to the uncertainty and indefiniteness of its utterances. [ ] in one way, nothing is so uncertain as tradition, and, moreover, tradition is rarely positive and direct, but, on the contrary, prone to concrete into strange, fragmentary, and distorted shapes. as an instance, we may take the tradition which genesis attests,--when abraham's hand had been stayed by the angel from the sacrifice of isaac, ... "he called the name of that place 'the lord seeth.' whereupon, even to this day it is said, '_in the mountain the lord will see_.'"--_gen._ xxii. . in illustration of the mode and manner of tradition, is the anecdote of mr hookham frere, who states, that when the maltese talk without reserve upon religious subjects, they say, "everybody knows that adam was the first man, but we alone know that he possessed fishing-boats;" which bunsen says "can be nothing but a phoenician reminiscence."--"egypt," iv. , the reminiscence of the legend of the fisherman. compare the fisherman and his wife in grimm's "popular stories from oral tradition." in the first place, as to its variability, it is true that tested by the experience which we possess of the persistency and exactness of family and local traditions, tradition in the broader sense which i have indicated may appear to be of little value. i have elsewhere attended a closer argument on this point in reply to sir john lubbock (ch. xii.), but i may also make what appears to me, as regards this matter, a sufficiently important distinction. family tradition is so confused, because at each remove in each generation, it is necessarily crossed through marriage with the traditions of another family. these may be either rival or irreconcileable. but this remark will apply with much less force, it will only secondarily and accidentally apply at all to the common traditions, the inheritance of all families starting from a common origin. if these traditions acquired some dross through the intermarriage of families, they will, on the other hand, through the very action of intermarriages, have been more frequently compared, more vividly, therefore, kept in remembrance, and more recognisable in their distortion, because the distortion is more likely to have been in the way of super-addition of what was thought congruous and supplemental. and this seems to me to meet mr max müller's objection in the _contemporary review_ for april . "comparative philology," he says, "has taught again and again, that when we find _exactly_ the same name in greek and sanscrit, we may be certain that it cannot be the same word;" for we here see reason why and how these traditions have been specially protected against the natural action and law which it is the peculiar province of philology to trace. i say this more especially with reference to the etymology in bryant's and other kindred works, which it is now the fashion to set aside with much _hauteur_; and i assert it without impugning in any way the results of modern philological inquiry, extending, of course, over a much wider field than the writers of the last century could embrace. but i do contend, that when the discussion has reference to the common progenitors of the human race, or the incidents of primitive life--for instance, the names of the ark, and what i may call its accessories, the dove and the rainbow[ ]--a certain probability of identity may be presumed in such sort that it may chance that the probabilities of tradition must be held to override the conjectures, and in some cases even the conclusions of philology.[ ] [ ] _vide_ "bryant's mythology," ii. [ ] after the exposition of his own theory, mr grote says--"it is in this point of view that the myths are important for any one who would correctly appreciate the general tone of grecian thought and feeling, for they were the _universal mental stock_ of the hellenic world, _common to men and women, rich and poor_, ignorant and instructed, they _were in every one's memory and in every one's mouth_, while science and history were confined to comparatively few. we know from thucydides how erroneously and carelessly the athenian public of his day retained the history of pisistratus, only one century past; but the adventures of the gods and heroes, the numberless explanatory legends attached to visible objects and _periodical ceremonies_, were the theme of _general talk_, and every man unacquainted with them would have found himself partially excluded from the sympathies of his neighbours."--_hist. greece_, i. p. ; comp. _infra_, ch. xi. i incline, moreover, to the belief that the fidelity and persistency of local tradition is greater than is generally supposed. sir h. maine[ ] says--"the truth is, that the stable part of our mental, moral, and physical constitution is the largest part of it, and the resistance it opposes to change is such that, though the variations of human society in a portion of the world are plain enough, they are neither so rapid nor so extensive that their amount of character and general direction cannot be ascertained." this establishes a presumption, at any rate, in favour of tradition, although i admit that the quotation from sir h. maine does not go further than point to a tradition of usages; but i contend that a tradition of usage would enable us, after the manner of boulanger,[ ] to disclose "l'antiquite devoilée par ses usages," and to establish the main points and basis of the history of the human race, _e.g._ the fall, the deluge, the dispersion, the early knowledge and civilisation of mankind, the primitive monotheism, the confusion of tongues, the family system, marriages, the institution of property, the tradition of a common morality,[ ] and of the law of nations. [ ] "ancient law," p. . [ ] "pour trouver le veritable objet de ces dernières solemnités, dont les motifs sont compliqués, nous nous attachons à analyser leur cérémoniel et à chercher l'esprit de leurs usages; et cet esprit achève de nous faire reconnaître l'objet que nous n'avions d'abord qu'entrevu ou soupçonné, quelquefois même il nous développe encore la nature des motifs étrangers et mythologiques, et ces motifs se trouvent pour la plûpart n'être que des traditions du _même fait_ qui ont été ou corrompués par le temps, ou travesties par des allégories."--boulanger, _"l'antiquite devoilée par ses usages"_, i. . [ ] _vide_ other lines of tradition indicated in b. iii., c. iii., of de maistre, "du pape." this inquiry might no doubt form a department either of scriptural exegesis, universal history, or of ethnological research; but, in point of fact, its scope is too large practically to fall within such limits; whereas, if it were recognised as a separate branch of study, it would, i venture to think, in the progress of its investigation, bring all these different branches of inquiry into harmony and completeness. and i further contend, that the conclusions thus attained are as well-deserving of consideration as the conclusions of science from the implements of the drift, or as the evidence of "some bones, from the pliocene beds of st prest, which appear to show the marks of knives;"[ ] which are adduced in evidence of a palæolithic age. so that, when on one side it is said that science (meaning the science of geology or philology, &c.) has proved this or that fact apparently contrary to the scriptural narrative, it can, on the other hand, be asserted that the facts, or the inferences from them, are incompatible with the testimony of the science of tradition. the defenders of scripture will thus secure foothold on the ground of science, which, when properly entrenched, will stand good against the most formidable recognizances or assaults of the enemy. [ ] sir j. lubbock, intro. to nillson's "stone age," xii. i cannot help thinking that some such thought lurks in the following passage of cardinal wiseman's second lecture on "science and revealed religion" ( th edition, p. )-- "here again i cannot but regret our inability to comprehend in one glance the bearings and connections of different sciences; for, _if_ it appears that ages must have been required to bring languages to the state wherein we first find them, other researches would show us that these ages never existed; and we should thus be driven to discover some shaping power, some ever-ruling influence, which could do at once what nature would take centuries to effect; and the book of genesis hath alone solved this problem." no doubt a greater general acquaintance and power to grasp--or better still, an intuitive glance--with which to comprehend "the bearings and connections of different sciences," would tend to circumscribe the aberrations of any particular science; but the special intervention which appears to me destined to bring the various sciences into harmony, will be the elevation of the particular department of history or archæology which has to do with the traditions of the human race as to its origin into a separate and recognised branch of inquiry; and i am satisfied that if any portion of that intellect, which is cunning in the reconstruction of the mastodon from its vertebral bone, had been directed to the great lines of human tradition, that enough of the "reliquiæ" and vestiges of the past remain to establish their conformity with that "which alone has solved this problem--the book of genesis;" and which, apart from the consideration of its inspiration, will ever remain the most venerable and best attested of human records.[ ] [ ] _e.g._, mr grote says, in his introduction, that through the combination and illustration of scanty facts, "the general picture of the grecian world may now be conceived with a degree of fidelity which, considering our imperfect materials, it is curious to contemplate." the duke of argyll ("primeval man," p. ) says--"within certain limits it is not open to dispute that the early condition of mankind is accessible to research. contemporary history reaches back a certain way. existing monuments afford their evidence for a considerable distance farther. _tradition has its own province still more remote_; and latterly geology and archæology have met upon common ground--ground in which man and the mammoth have been found together." it is much too readily assumed that traditions must be worthless where no records are kept. gibbon,[ ] i think, was the first who took this position. to this i reply, that although records are valuable for the attestation, they are not guarantees for the fidelity of tradition.[ ] i do not assert that the tradition is more trustworthy than the record; but that, when mankind trust mainly to tradition, the faculties by which it is sustained will be more strongly developed, and the adaptation of society for its transmission more exactly conformed. in other words, tradition in ancient times seemed to flow as from a fountain-head, and the world was everywhere grooved for its reception. we may take in evidence the strange resemblances in mythological tradition in various parts of the world on the one hand, and on the other the oral tradition of the homeric verses; the frequent concourse of citizens, and at recurring festivals of the surrounding populations, to listen to their recital. and not only was there oral tradition in verse, but all public events were recorded in the attestations of the market-place. when a treaty was ratified it was commonly before some temple, or in some place of public resort, and its terms were committed to memory by some hundred witnesses; and in like manner was the recollection of other public events and memorable facts preserved.[ ] (_vide_ pastoret's "hist. de la législation," i. ; also, account of "annales maximi" in dyer's "rome," xvii.) [ ] gibbon ("decline and fall," i. ) says, "but all this well-laboured system of german antiquities is annihilated by a single fact, too well attested to admit of any doubt, and of too decisive a nature to leave room for any reply. the germans, in the days of tacitus, were unacquainted with the use of letters, and the use of letters is the principal circumstance which distinguishes a civilised people from a herd of savages, incapable of knowledge or reflection. without that artificial help, the human memory ever dissipates or corrupts the ideas intrusted to her charge." compare with coleridge, _infra_, p. ; ozanam, _infra_, ch. xiii. [ ] eusebius ("ecclesiastical hist.," ch. xxxvi.) says, speaking of st ignatius--"he exhorted them to adhere firmly to the tradition of the apostles; which, for the sake of greater security, he deemed it necessary to attest by committing it to writing." i do not remember to have seen this quoted in testimony and proof of ecclesiastical tradition. [ ] goguet ("origin of laws," i. ) says--"the _first laws_ of all nations were composed in verse, and sung. apollo, according to a very ancient tradition, was one of the first legislators. the same tradition says that he published his laws to the sound of his lyre; that is to say, that he had set them to music. we have certain proof that the first laws of greece were a kind of song. the laws of the ancient inhabitants of spain were verses, which they sung. tuiston was regarded by the germans as their first lawgiver. they said he put his laws into verses and songs. this ancient custom was long kept up by several nations." e. warburton ("conquest of canada," i. ) says--"the want of any written or hieroglyphic records of the past among the northern indians was to some extent supplied by the accurate memories of their old men; they were able to repeat speeches of four or five hours' duration, and delivered many years before, without error, or even hesitation; and to hand them down from generation to generation with equal accuracy.... on great and solemn occasions belts of wampum were used as aids to recollection ... when a treaty or compact was negotiated." yet, although during long periods oral transmission was for mankind the main channel of tradition, it must not necessarily be concluded that writing was unknown, and was not employed for monumental and other purposes. what strikes one most forcibly in contemplating these ages, is the contrast between their intellectual knowledge and their mechanical and material contrivances for its application. during these centuries in which the , hexameters of the "iliad" and "odyssey" were transmitted in memory, by repetition, at public festivals, oral tradition was doubtless employed, because during this period "paper, parchment, or even the smoothed hides, as adapted for the purposes of writing, were unknown."[ ] this, whilst it certainly is in evidence of the paucity of their available resources, at the same time establishes the retentive strength of their memory,[ ] and their intellectual familiarity with great truths. [ ] _vide_ h. n. coleridge ("greek classic poets," p. - ), in speaking of the "dionysiacs, the thebaids, the epigoniads, naupactica, genealogies, and the other works of that sort," p. , he adds--"just as in the indian and persian epics, in the northern eddas, in the poem of the 'cid,' in the early chronicles of every nation with which we are acquainted, one story follows another story in the order of mere history; and the skill and fire of the poet are shown, not in the artifice of grouping a hundred figures into one picture, but in raising admiration by the separate beauty of each successive picture. _they tell the tale as the tale had been told to them, and leave out nothing._" [ ] according to the account which the chinese themselves give of their annals, the works of confucius were proscribed, after his death, by the emperor chi-hoangti, and all the copies, including the chu-king, were recovered from the dictation of an old man who had retained them in memory. "the great moralist of the east" himself, confucius, asserted--"that he only wrought on materials already existing." _vide_ klaproth ap., cardinal wiseman, "science and rev. religion," ii. p. . in the article in the _cornhill magazine_, nov. , containing the valuable collection of dravidian (south indian) folk-songs, it is said, p. , that "they are handed down from generation to generation, entirely vivâ voce, and from the minstrels have passed into public use." and this seems to me the sufficient reply to sir charles lyell's somewhat captious objection, that if the intellectual knowledge of the primitive age was so great, we ought now to be digging up steam engines instead of flint implements. every age has its own peculiar superiority, as hath each individual mind--_non omnia possumus omnes_--and it is as reasonable to object to an age of philosophic thought, or of intuitive perception, that it was not rich in the wealth of material civilisation, as it would be to object to plato or shakspeare, that they did not acquire dominion over mankind; or to alexander, that he did not excel aristotle; or to sir c. lyell, supposing geology to be certain, that he did not anticipate darwin, supposing darwinism to be true. and if it should be more precisely objected that, if in those ages there was the knowledge of writing for monumental purposes, we ought at least to find monuments,[ ] i say that the _onus probandi_ lies with the objector to prove the invention or introduction of writing in the interval between the age of homer and the age of pericles, as against us who believe in its primeval transmission; or to show that its introduction was more probable at this latter period than at the former.[ ] [ ] the duke of argyll ("primeval man," p. ) says--"knowledge, for example, or ignorance of the use of metals are, as we shall see, characteristics on which great stress is laid" (by the advocates of the "savage theory"). "now, as regards this point, as whately truly says, the narrative of genesis distinctly states that this kind of knowledge did not belong to mankind at first.... it is assumed in the savage theory that the presence or absence of this knowledge stands in close and natural connection with the presence or absence of other and higher kinds of knowledge, of which an acquaintance with metals is but a symbol and a type. within certain limits this is true." [ ] presuming total ignorance of writing--its invention at _any_ period seems to me much more marvellous than the discovery of printing after the invention of writing. for the rest we have seen that writing was known at an early period to the chaldæans and egyptians, and probably to the chinese and japanese, and to the medians (ch. xii.) plutarch tells us that a law of theseus, written on a column of stone, remained even to the time of demosthenes. schlegel says[ ]-- "i have laid it down as an invariable maxim to follow historical tradition, and to hold fast by that clue, even when many things in the testimony and declarations of tradition appear strange and almost inexplicable; or, at least, enigmatical; for so soon as, in the investigations of ancient history, we let slip that thread of ariadne, we can find no outlet from the labyrinth of fanciful theories and the chaos of clashing opinion." [ ] phil. hist. i propose to give a few instances of tradition, casually selected, which appear to me to be in illustration of this dictum of schlegel's. take, in illustration, the question whether mankind commenced with the state of monogamy. not that there is any obscurity on this point in the book of genesis. it is indeed sometimes loosely said that we find instances of polygamy in patriarchal times; but, as our lord said, it was not so in the beginning; and the book of genesis exhibits mankind as commencing with a single pair, and subsequently as re-propagated through a group of families, all represented to us at their commencement as monogamous. but if this highest testimony is discarded, and men gravely discuss whether or not they commenced with a state of promiscuity, the argument from tradition will go for as much as the argument from the analogy of circumstances and conditions as inferred from the existing state of savages, since this state, from our point of view, must have been the result of degeneracy.[ ] [ ] burke ("regicide peace,") says--"the practice of divorce, though in some countries permitted, has been discouraged in all. in the east polygamy and divorce are in discredit, and the manners correct the laws." i must, moreover, contend that the practice of monogamy, in any one case, must weigh for very much more than the practice of polygamy in ten parallel instances; because the natural degeneracy and proclivity of man in his fallen state is in this direction. and also, polygamy is much more naturally regarded as the departure from monogamy, than the latter as the restraint of, or advance out of, a state of promiscuity. it may further, i think, be maintained that monogamy--in the way of separation with a single woman by reason of strong love or preference--would be the more probable escape from the state of promiscuity than through the intermediary and progressive stage of polygamy.[ ] [ ] this was written before the appearance of sir j. lubbock's chapter on "marriage," in his "origin of civilization," to which reference is made at pp. , . now, i need scarcely say, that the opponents of monogamy can show no instance of an advance out of the state of promiscuity either to monogamy or polygamy. but they can point to certain communities in ancient and modern times in a state of polygamy. either, then, they must have degenerated into this state from the primitive monogamous family system, or they must have arrived at the stage in growth and progress out of a state of promiscuity. does tradition give any clue out of this labyrinth? to simplify the question, i will consent to appeal to the identical tradition to which the advocates of an original promiscuity direct our attention. mr j. f. m'lennan, who, in his "primitive marriage," (_vide supra_), apparently describes mankind as originally in a state of promiscuity, subsequently limited by customs of tribal exogamy and endogamy, in a recent article in the _fortnightly review_ (oct. ), "totems and totemism," sees further evidence of his theory in the following traditions from sanchoniathon:-- "few traditions respecting the primitive condition of mankind are more remarkable, and perhaps none are more ancient, than those that have been preserved by sanchoniatho; or rather, we should say, that are to be found in the fragments ascribed to that writer by eusebius. they present us with an outline of the earlier stages of human progress in religious speculation, which is shown _by the results of modern inquiry to be wonderfully correct_. they tell us for instance that '_the first men consecrated the plants shooting out of the earth, and judged them gods_, and worshipped them upon whom they themselves lived, and all their posterity, and all before them, and to these they made their meat and drink offerings.'[ ] they further tell us that the first men believed the heavenly bodies to be animals, only differently shaped and circumstanced from any on the earth. 'there were certain animals which had no sense, out of which were begotten intelligent animals ... and they were formed alike in the shape of an egg. thus shone out môt [the luminous vault of heaven?], the sun and the moon, and the less and the greater stars.' _next they relate, in an account of the successive generations of men_, that _in the first generation the way was found out of taking food from trees_; that, in the second, men, having suffered from droughts, began to worship the sun--the lord of heaven; that in the third, light, fire, and flame [conceived as persons], were begotten; that in the fourth giants appeared; while in the fifth, 'men were named from their mothers' because of the uncertainty of male parentage, this generation being distinguished also by the introduction of 'pillar' worship. it was not till the twelfth generation that the gods appeared that figure most in the old mythologies, such as kronos, dagon, zeus, belus, apollo, and typhon; and then the queen of them all was the _bull_-headed astarte. the sum of the statements is, that men first worshipped plants; next the heavenly bodies, supposed to be animals; then 'pillars;' ... and, last of all, the anthropomorphic gods. not the least remarkable statement is, that in primitive times there was kinship through mothers only, owing to the uncertainty of fatherhood."[ ] [ ] a tradition of the constellations, a proof from tradition that they were so named in the ante-diluvian period. [ ] sanchoniatho's "phoenician history," by the right rev. r. cumberland. london, , pp. , , , _et seq._ eusebius, præpar. evangel. lib. i. cap. . the fragments of sanchoniathon here referred to are found at earlier date than eusebius, having been copiously extracted by philo (_vide_ bunsen's "egypt"). sanchoniathon was to phoenicia what berosus was to assyria; that is to say, the earliest post-diluvian compilers of history when tradition was becoming obscure. let us scrutinise his testimony. we are here told "that the first men _consecrated the plants_ shooting out of the earth, and _judged them gods_."... "next they relate, in an account of the successive generations of men, that in the first generation _the way was found out of taking food from trees_." here, i submit, that we have plainly and unmistakably a tradition of that first commencement of evil, the first man and woman plucking the apple from the tree, thinking they would become as gods (gen. iii. , ), ... "and the serpent said ... for god doth know that in what day soever you shall eat thereof ... and you shall be as gods, knowing good and evil." then follows the succession of ages (_vide infra_, ch. xiii.), of which there is a curious parallel tradition in hesiod and apollodorus, and partial correspondences in the traditions of india, china, and mexico (_infra_, ch. xiii.).[ ] [ ] _vide_ grote, i. it will be noted, however, that whilst running into the tradition of hesiod on the one side (in hesiod and in the chinese tradition there is trace of a double tradition, ante and post-diluvian), sanchoniathon still more closely runs in with the narrative of genesis on the other, thus connecting the links of the chain of tradition.[ ] [ ] this chapter was written before i became acquainted with mr palmer's "chronicles of egypt" (_vide_ ch. vi.) if the reader will refer to chap. i., he will there find a learned and exhaustive exposition of the ages of sanchoniathon, identifying them with scripture on the one side, and egyptian tradition on the other. in the succession of ages we have in outline the history of mankind in the ante-diluvian period--the fall, _supra_--followed in the succeeding age by a great _drought_--[compare this tradition with the following passage in fran. lenormant's "histoire ancienne," i. p. , d ed., paris --"and when geology shows us the first ante-diluvian men who came into our part of the world, living in the midst of ice, under conditions of climate analogous to those under which the esquimaux live at the present day ... one is naturally brought to the recollection of _that ancient tradition of the persians_, fully conformable to the information which the bible supplies on the subject of the fall of man, ... which ranks among the first of the chastisements which followed the fall, along with death and other calamities, the advent of an _intense and permanent cold_ which man could scarcely endure, and which rendered the earth almost uninhabitable."[ ]] it is to this period, and the short period immediately following the deluge (_vide_ ch. ii. p. , and _infra_, pp. , ), that i am inclined to trace the notions of a primitive barbarism--compare, for instance, the facts which goguet, in his "origin of laws," i. p. , adduces in proof of his progress from barbarism, with the above tradition of the persians recorded by lenormant. [ ] is not this the meaning of the cxlvii. psalm, in the expression, "ante faciem frigoris ejus quis sustinebit"? does not the psalm recount to the jewish people, in rapid allusions, all that god had done for them, in contrast to the chastisements that had befallen other nations; and if it is objected that there is no allusion to the deluge, unless in its indirect and beneficial influences, in the words, "flavit spiritus ejus et fluent aquæ," i reply that to the survivors, the deluge, regarded largely, and in its permanent effects, was no calamity, but the commencement of a new and more favoured era. goguet says--"the egyptians, persians, phoenicians, greeks, and several other nations (_vide_ his references, p. ), acknowledged that their ancestors were once without the use of fire. the chinese confess the same of their progenitors.... pomponius, mela, pliny, plutarch, and other ancient authors speak of nations, who, at the time they wrote, knew not the use of fire, or had only just learned it. facts of the same kind are attested by several modern relations." let this latter statement be compared with _infra_, pp. , . in the third age we are told--"light, fire, and flame (conceived as persons) were begotten," which looks like a tradition of vulcan, tubalcain, &c. (_vide_ ch. xii. _infra_); and "in the fourth, giants appeared;" while in the fifth, the corruption of mankind is indicated, as is declared in genesis vi. : "now giants were upon the earth in those days. for after the sons of god went in to the daughters of men and brought forth children," &c., ver. , "and when god had seen that the earth was corrupted (for all flesh had corrupted its way upon the earth), ver. , he said to noe," &c. "it was not till the twelfth generation that the gods appeared that figured most in the old mythologies," says mr m'lennan, quoting sanchoniathon, or what is believed to be his testimony. i trust that this fragment of tradition may be remembered in connection with what i have written in chapters viii., ix., x. [ ] [ ] compare ch. xiii. the successive ages of hesiod, more especially the lines describing the iron age, parallel to the tradition, _supra_, "that in the fifth age _men were named from their mothers_." "no fathers in their sons their features trace, the sons reflect _no more_ their father's face; the host with kindness greets his guest no more, and friends and brethren love not as of yore." --hesiod. president goguet ("origin of laws," i. ,) had noticed the ancient allusions to "kinship through mothers," and his statement that "women belonged to the man who seized them first.... the children who sprang from this irregular intercourse scarce ever knew who were their fathers. they knew only their mothers, for which reason they always bore their name." for this statement he also quotes sanchoniathon, ap. eus. p. , as his principal authority. but sanchoniathon's statement, as we have seen, refers to the ante-diluvian period, in which it is borne out by genesis vi. . there is one fact adduced by goguet (i. ), viz. that the _assyrians_ had an analogous ceremony which must be decisive for us, though not, perhaps, for mr m'lennan, that the custom of seizure was ante-diluvian, since the commencement of the assyrian monarchy in the times immediately following the flood, is one of the best established foundations of history. _vide_ genesis and rawlinson. "this race of _many languaged_ man." to any one who rightly grasps the bearing of the argument, the appositeness of this quotation will, i think, be rather strengthened than diminished by the evidence that the lines of hesiod plainly refer to post-diluvian times (_vide_ ch. xiii.) "the sum of the statements" then, so regarded, is to confirm the tradition of the human race as recorded in genesis, that they sprang from three brothers and their three wives, forming three monogamous pairs who accompanied their father noah into the ark, with his wife; and who again were more remotely descended from a single pair. if, then, in the two most ancient traditions of which we have any record, we find concordance on some points and divergence on others, the circumstance of identity at all is so much more startling than the occurrence of discrepancy, that it will fairly be taken to warrant the presumption of a common origin; and this conformity will also be naturally claimed in support of our narrative as against the other on the points of disagreement, which will then be set down to the corruption of that which is deemed the most ancient and authentic. for those, therefore, who believe the bible to be the revealed word of god, and even for those who regard it as the most ancient record, the coincidences with sanchoniathon will afford a striking testimony; whereas the coincidence of the fifth age of sanchoniathon with genesis (chap. vi. , , ) and the tradition of hesiod, must be an embarrassment to those who seek in this tradition evidence that what was characteristic of the fifth age, was true of the preceding and pristine ages. to take a second instance, more exactly in illustration of the quotation from f. schlegel, _supra_, p. , there is no such barrier to tradition (regarded retrospectively) as the notion, if we accept it, which crept over many nations, that they were "autochthones." like the sand-drifts known to geologists as dunes, such notions, if they had been received absolutely, would have involved all tradition in a general extinction. but as the dunes, when minutely measured and submitted to calculation, have afforded the best evidence in favour of what may be called the diluvian chronology, so will this notion that men sprang out of the soil in which they dwelt, when analysed, contribute fresh evidence to the truth and persistence of tradition. but first of all, will any one start with the theory--that any nation that had this notion about itself--the greeks, for instance, were really autochthones? there is, then, simply a confusion of ideas, a difficulty which has to be unravelled; but seeing that the greeks notoriously believed themselves to be autochthones, it becomes an obstruction in the main channel of tradition, and it is especially incumbent upon us to consider the facts. in the "supplicants" of Æschylus--and i am not aware that the notion crops up at earlier date--pelasgus is introduced as saying-- "pelasgus bids you, sovereign of the land, my sire, palæcthon, of _high ancestry, original_ with this _earth_; from me, their king, the people take their name, and boast themselves pelasgians." --v. . here the high descent, and the origin from the soil, the ancestry referred to in the same breath with the allusion to his sire, "original with this earth," strikes one as incongruous. and the incongruity appears still greater when we recollect that pelasgus is the person whom all historical evidence proves to have been the first settler in the country; it being also borne in mind that the term "autochthones," whether in a primary or a secondary sense, is always applied to the supposed aboriginals of the country, and therefore excludes the hypothesis of any more primitive colonisation.[ ] [ ] the phoenician cosmogony seems to me to clinch the argument. there (_vide_ bunsen, egypt, iv. ), "_the son of eliun_ is called by philo, epigeios or _autokhthon_, 'the earth-born,' primeval inhabitant. by the latter of these expressions we have no doubt that adam-tadmon ('the kadmos of the greeks,' p. ), the first man, the man of god, is implied" ("eliun, _i.e._ helyun, god the most high," p. ). there is an analogy in their confused tradition of the creation. "eudemus says, according to the phoenician mythology, which _was invented by môkhos_, the first principle was æther and air; from these two beginnings sprang ulômos (the eternal), the rational (conscious) god" (bunsen, iv. ). bunsen, ( ) adds, "as regards môkhos the thing is clear enough; the old materialistic philosopher is matter, and that in the sense of primeval slime." [whence it has been suggested that we derive our word muck, môkh, or môkhos.] this beginning bunsen considers (p. ) "a philosophising amplification of the simply sublime words of genesis: 'the earth was without form, and void, and darkness was over the face of the waters.'" here we see the human reason hampered by the tradition that confused matter or chaos was somehow at the commencement, and with the conflicting tradition and conclusion of the intellect that it was, and must have been, created by a power superior to matter ("in the beginning god created heaven and earth"), emancipating itself, so far as to identify the creator with the æther and air, as nearer the conception of a pure spirit, and personifying matter, and so shunting it aside as the "inventor of the mythology." but if we regard it as a corruption of the tradition that man was created out of the earth ("for dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return," genesis iii. ), does not this solve all difficulties? the extension of the knowledge that they were created out of the earth, to the notion that they were created out of this or that particular clay, is not violent. is it not this same Æschylus[ ] who has the allusion "to the earth drinking the blood of the two rival brothers, the one slain by the other." it will be seen at p. , that the mexicans believed that the first race of men were created "out of the earth," and "the third out of a tree," a reminiscence of the creation, and of the fall, the intermediate event being probably the creation of eve. in like manner, the red indians have a tradition that they were created out of the _red clay_ by the great spirit; and to go to another part of the world, the supposed aboriginal tribes of china were called miautze, or "soil children."[ ] [ ] _vide_ de maistre (ch. xii.) [ ] max müller, "chips," &c., ii. . the titans were also said to be "earth-born." bryant (iii. ) says berosus gives the following tradition of the creation. belus after deification being confounded with the creator, as we have seen prometheus, id. --"belus, the deity above mentioned, cut off his own head, upon which the other gods mixed the blood as it gushed out _with the earth_, and _from thence_ men _were formed. on this_ account it is that they are rational and partake of divine knowledge. _this_ belus, whom men called _dis, divided the darkness_ and separated the heavens from the earth," &c. this testimony must be connected with the phrase so startling in the seventh ode of the fourth book of horace, "_pulvis_ et umbra sumus," and with the text in genesis iii. , "for dust thou art."[ ] it may possibly be said that this is merely matter of every day's experience. but it is precisely at this point that we must ask those who dispute tradition to discard tradition. do bodies--so far as the exterior senses tell us--return to dust, or to other forms of life? if it is true that we return to dust--scripture apart--it is tradition and not experience which attests it, and yet so common is the belief, that it might readily pass as the result of common observation. [ ] compare cicero, de legibus, i. : "est igitur homini _cum deo similitudo_;" and with gen. ii. , : "and god created man in his own likeness." so general a tradition that man was created, and created out of the ground,[ ] is so completely in accordance with the text of genesis, that one can hardly see what more can be demanded; yet catlin says[ ]--"though there is not a tribe in america but what has _some_ theory of man's _creation_, there is not one amongst them all that bears the _slightest resemblance_ to the mosaic account." catlin instances the traditions of the mandans, choctaws, and the sioux--_ st_, the mandans (who have the ceremony commemorative of _the deluge_ referred to, ch. xi.), believe that they were created "under the ground." _ d_, the choctaws assert that they "were created crawfish, living alternately under the ground and above it as they chose; and, creeping out at their little holes in the earth to get the warmth of the sun one sunny day, a portion of the tribe was driven away and could not return; they built the choctaw village, and the remainder of the tribe are still living under the ground." the iroquois, however, believe that they "came out of the ground," which is identical with the greek notion of their being "autochthones" (_vide_ colden, ii. ), where one of their chiefs speaks thus--"for we must tell you that long before one hundred years our ancestors _came out of this very ground_.... you _came out of the ground_ in a country that lies beyond the seas." now, even if we consent to detach the iroquois tradition, there is still in both the mandan and choctaw tradition, a common idea of their having come from "under the ground," which seems to me the tradition that they were created out of the ground at one remove. to this it would seem the choctaws have super-added their recollection of some incident of their tribe, possibly that they were an offshoot of the esquimaux, or were at one period in their latitude and lived their life, which would be in accordance with the theory of their migrations from asia by behring's straits. _d_, about the sioux, the third instance of contrariety adduced by catlin, it seems to me that there is no room for argument, the sioux having the tradition referred to above, that the great spirit _told_ them that "the red stone was their flesh." to these three instances mr catlin adds--"other tribes were created under the water, and at least _one half of the_ tribes in america represent that man was created _under the ground_ or in the rocky caverns of the mountains. why this diversity of theories of the creation if these people brought their traditions of the deluge from the land of inspiration?"[ ] [ ] "the chinese cosmogony speaks as follows of the creation of man--'god took some yellow earth, and he made man _en deux sexes_.'" this is the true origin of the human race. a hebrew tradition says that it was of the red earth, which is the same idea. the hebrew word "adam" expresses this idea. this correspondence as to the manner in which the body of the first man was formed, between two people who have never had relations, is very remarkable. indian and african cosmogonies relate that the name of the first man was 'adimo,' that of his wife 'hava,' and that they were the last work of the creator."--gainet, _la bible sans la bible_, i. p. . i must note, too, the identity of the american indian (_supra_) and the hebrew tradition, which is curious, as it might naturally be supposed that the tradition of the red indian took its _colour_ from his own complexion. max müller ("lect. on the science of language," st series, p. ) says of "man"--"the latin word _homo_, the french _l'homme_, ... is _derived from the same root_, which we have in _humus_, soil, _humilis_, humble. _homo_, therefore, would express the idea _of being made out of the dust of the earth_." bunsen also ("phil. univ. hist." i. ) says--"the common word for man in all german dialects is 'manna,' containing the same root as sanscrit 'manusha' and 'manueshya.' the latin 'homo' is intimately connected with 'humus' and [greek: chamai] and means _earth-born_; [greek: anthrôpôn chamaigeneôn], says pindar. but what is [greek: anthrôpos]?" [ ] "last rambles," p. . [ ] the following tradition of the tartar tribes seems to supply a link. in their tradition of the deluge (_vide_ gainet, i. ) it is said, "that those who saved themselves from the deluge shut themselves up with their provisions in the crevices of mountains, and that after the scourge had passed they came out of their caverns." and compare, again, with the tradition of kronos (noah, _vide_ bryant's "mythology," iii. )--"he is said to have had _three_ sons (sanch. ap. euseb. p. e., lib. i. c. , ), and in a _time of danger_ he formed a _large cavern in the ocean_, and in this he shut himself up, together _with these sons_, and thus escaped the danger."--_porph. de nymphar. antro._, p. . bryant ("mythology," iii. ) says--"i have shown that gaia, in its original sense, signified a sacred cavern, a hollow in the earth, which, from its gloom, was looked upon as an emblem of the ark. hence gaia, like hasta rhoia cybele, is often represented as the mother of mankind." the following is very important with reference to my argument above:--the scholiast upon euripides says--"[greek: meta ton kataklysmon en oresin oikountôn tôn argeiôn prôtos autous synôkisen inachos]. when the argivi or arkites, _after the deluge_, lived _dispersed on the mountains_, inachus first brought them together and formed them into communities."--comp. _infra_, p. , , , . the instances adduced of myths connecting man with the monkey are, as a rule, traditions of degeneracy, _i.e._ of men turned into monkeys (_vide_ tylor's "primitive culture," i. ), and to which i would add the rabbinical tradition of men turned into monkeys at the tower of babel (de quincey, works, xiii. ), and the classical epic of the ceropes, "founded on the transformation of a set of jugglers into monkeys." but if compared with the above tradition, i think that the only two instances (tylor, i. ) which seem to bear out the opposite theory will wear a different aspect. i quote from tylor as above--"wild tribes of the malay peninsula, looked down upon as lower animals by the more warlike and civilised malays, have among them traditions of their own descent from _a pair_ of the "unka-putch" or _white_ monkeys, who reared their young ones _and sent them into the plains_, and there they perfected so well that they and their descendants became men, but those _who returned to the mountains_ still remained apes. the buddhist legend relates the origin of the flat-nosed uncouth tribes of tibet, offspring of _two miraculous apes_, transformed to _people_ the snow-kingdom. taught to till the ground, when they had grown corn and eaten it, their tails and hair gradually disappeared, they began to speak, became men, and clothed themselves with leaves. the population grew closer, the land was more and more cultivated, and at last a prince of the race of sakya, driven from his home in india, _united their isolated tribes_ into a single kingdom."--comp. cecrops, &c., p. , _infra_. now, just as the tribes who said they were created "under the ground" implied the same tradition as those who said they were created _out of_ the ground, so, too, the tribes who said they were created "under the water" probably held the tradition that the creation of the race preceded the deluge. the tradition which connects the creation with "the rocky caverns of the mountains" is more recondite--may it possibly be a recollection of the commencement of civil life after the deluge, when noah led them, according to tradition, from the mountains to the plains? m. l'abbé gainet says (i. )--"the lord repeated four times the promise that he would not send another deluge.... the children of noah were long scared by the recollection of the dreadful calamity.... it is probable that they did not decide upon leaving the 'plateaux' of the mountains till quite late. moreover, caverns have been found in the mountains of the himalaya, and in many other elevated regions of asia, which they suppose to have been formed by the first generations of man after the deluge. the works of the learned m. de paravey make frequent mention of them." this tradition is supported by the lines of virgil referring to saturn (_vide infra_, p. ). "is genus indocile, ac dispersum _montibus altis_ composuit; legesque dedit."--_Æn._ viii. . i give these suggestions for what they may be worth.[ ] truly, where some see nothing but harmony, others see nothing but diversity. only to put it to a fair test, i should like to see mr catlin or some one else group these various traditions round any one tradition which they believe to be at variance with the revelation of genesis, and which, at the same time, they happen to consider to be the true one. it must be conceded that in one way the facts accord with mr catlin's theory--contradicted, however, by other evidence (_infra_, ch. xi.)--that the indians were created on the american continent. but upon any theory that they were not created at all, but existed always in pantheistic transformation, or had progressed from the monkey, or had been developed in evolution from some protoplasm, is not the tradition incongruous and inexplicable? [ ] it occurs to me as possible that these various traditions may have had their foundation in the recollection of hardship, at some early period of their subsequent migration, which were transferred back and connected with their tradition of the altered state of things after the deluge, arising out of the substitution of animal for vegetable food--of which the notion that man once lived on acorns may have been only an extreme form of expression. the following tradition of saturn (_vide infra_, saturn, p. ), seems to tend in this direction: "diodorus siculus gives the same history of saturn as is by plutarch above given of janus--[greek: ex agriou diaitês eis êmeron bion metarêsa anthrôpous].--diodorus, . , p. . he brought mankind from their foul and savage way of _feeding_ to a more mild and rational _diet_."--bryant, ii. . to take another instance. the hindoos had a fanciful notion that the world was supported by an elephant, and the elephant by a tortoise. nothing can be imagined more incongruous and grotesque. yet dr falconer has recently discovered, in his explorations in india, a fossil tortoise adequate to the support of an elephant. the incongruity then of the tradition disappears; its grotesqueness remains. i cannot help thinking, however, that it may have been the embodiment in symbol, or else the systematisation of the confused medley of their tradition of the order, _i.e. of the sequence of days of the creation_ (_vide_ appendix to this chapter).[ ] [ ] this fable of the tortoise is also among the mandans, whom, catlin (_supra_, ) says, had no other tradition of the creation than that they were created under the ground. their tradition is confused with the deluge, which dominates in their tradition. "the mandans believed that the earth rests on four tortoises. they say that "each tortoise rained ten days, making forty days in all, and the waters covered the earth" (_vide_ "o-kea-pa," p. , _infra_, ch. xi.) does not this tradition of the tortoise decide the _oriental_ origin of the north american mandans? falconer's "palæontological mem.," , i. , ii. - , &c., "as the pterodactyle more than realised the most extravagant idea of the winged dragon, so does this huge tortoise come up to the lofty conceptions of hindoo mythology; and could we but recall the monsters to life, it were not difficult to imagine an elephant supported on its back"(i. ). the new zealanders have a curious tradition of their ancestors having encountered a gigantic saurian species of reptile, which must have been before they arrived in new zealand. _vide_ shortland's "traditions of the new zealanders," p. . i have alluded, p. , to the tradition preserved by berosus, that oannes, whom i identify with noah, left writings upon the origin of the world, in which he says, "that there was a time when all was darkness and water, and that this darkness and water contained _monstrous animals_." here, perhaps, two distinct traditions are confused; but is not the tradition of animals so much out of the ordinary nature of things as to be called monstrous sufficiently marked to make us ask if the discovery of the skeleton of the "megatherium" ought to have come upon the scientific world as a surprise? might they not have anticipated the discovery if they had duly trusted tradition? other instances might doubtless be adduced. my present object is merely to suggest that there may be truths in tradition not dreamt of by modern philosophy. if the human intellect were as capacious as it is acute, we might then listen with greater submission to its strictures upon tradition; because then we might at least believe that its vision extended to all the facts. but in truth, no intellect, however encyclopædic, can grasp them all. indeed, knowledge in many departments is becoming more and more the tradition of experts, and must be taken by the outside world on faith. how many facts, again, once in tradition, but at some period put on record, lie as deeply shrouded in the dust of libraries as they had previously lain hidden in the depths of ages? who will say what facts are traditional in different localities? barely do we move from place to place without eliciting some information strange and new. who again will say what ideas are traditional in different minds? barely is there a discussion which provokes traditional lore or traditional sentiment which does not bring to light some such thought or experience, re-appearing, like the lines in family feature, after the lapse of several generations. whenever, then, mankind is called upon to discard its traditions at the voice of any intellect, however powerful, is it unreasonable to demand that some cognizance should be taken of these facts.[ ] [ ] i have elsewhere (_vide_ ch. iv., _et seq._, x., xi.) traced the tradition of the deluge, of the chronology of the world, &c., &c. let us now, returning to the tradition we have more especially in view, ask this further question,--what could the human intellect have done towards the regeneration of the race if there had been no revelation and no tradition? it is not often that unbelief is constructive and supplies us with the necessary data with which to furnish the answer. but recently a work which is said to embody considerable learning has appeared, entitled, "the origin and development of religious belief," which is written "from a philosophic and not from a religious point of view;" in which "the existence of a god is not assumed, the truth of revelation is not assumed," and "the bible is quoted not as an authoritative, but as an historical record open to criticism."--mr baring gould, "origin and development of religious belief," preface, . here then, if anywhere, we are likely to get the solution from the point of view of unbelief. at p. , mr b. gould thus summarises his views:-- "religion, as has been already shown, is the synthesis of thought and sentiment. it is the representation of a philosophic idea. it always reposes on some hypothesis. at first it is full of vigour, constantly on the alert to win converts. then the hypothesis is acquiesced in, it is received as final, its significance evaporates. the priests of ancient times were also philosophers, but not being able always to preserve their intellectual superiority, their doctrines became void of meaning, hieroglyphs of which they had lost the key; and then speculation ate its way out of religion, and left it an empty shell of ritual observance, void of vital principle. philosophy alone is not religion, nor is sentiment alone religion; but religion is that which, based on an intelligent principle, teaches that principle as dogma, exhibits it in worship, and applies it in discipline. dogma worship and discipline are the constituents, so to speak, the mind spirit, and body of religion."--"_origin and development of religious belief._" by s. baring gould, m.a. rivingtons, . part i., p. . here it is said that "religion is the representative of a philosophic idea. it always reposes on some hypothesis." this philosophic idea may be that there must necessarily be a creator. but also it may not be, for "the existence of god is not assumed" (_vide_ preface). if it is not, then, according to this definition, religion may be the representative of any philosophic idea (_i.e._ any idea of any philosopher), even that which may be diametrically opposed to the existence and goodness of god.[ ] but if, on the other hand, the existence of god is this primary philosophic idea, then all other philosophic ideas must succumb to it. it is a point which you must settle at starting in your definition of religion. [ ] devil-worship is based upon the hypothesis that the evil spirit exists, and is the influence from which man has most to dread. prudence suggests that it is wise to propitiate evil when it is powerful; and if "the existence of god is not assumed," or the conception of god not yet developed, it is hard to see how the conclusion can be impugned; and (_vide_ next page) mr baring gould endorses grimm's opinion that man's first "idea of god is the idea of a _devil_." what follows seems to assume that some individual, or some set of individuals, at a period more or less remote, evolved the idea of god and religion out of their own consciousness; but that, as the descendants of these individuals had not the same intellectual vigour, the conception lapsed,--"their doctrines became hieroglyphs of which they had lost the key." nothing can be more conformable to the theory of tradition;[ ] but from the point of view of mr baring gould, what was to forbid other individuals broaching fresh conceptions? is there, however, any instance known to us? is there any instance of a religion not eclectic or pantheistic (the one being the mere revivalism or reconstruction of the elements of former beliefs, and the other their absorption), any religion "based on an intelligible principle," heretofore unknown to mankind, rising up and obtaining even a temporary ascendancy among mankind? no; mankind, even in the darkness of paganism, persistently distinguished between religion and philosophy, priests and sophists--though intellectually so much alike--and this i consider to be a master-key to the history of the past (_ante_, p. ). [ ] the most favourable review of mr b. gould's work which i have seen says:--"in tracing the origin and development of religious belief, the object of mr baring gould is to establish the foundation of _christian_ doctrine on the nature, the intuitions, and the reason of man, _rather than upon traditionary dogmas_, historical documents, or written inspirations. he is of opinion that the elements of true religion are to be found in a revelation naturally impressed upon the soul of man, and that the investigation of man's moral nature will be found to disclose the surest proofs of his religious wants and destination. the author holds that if theological doctrines can be inculcated by demonstrative evidence of their harmony with man's intellectual and moral constitution, they will be received with more perfect acquiescence and conviction than when appeals are made simply to man's veneration for antiquity and authority." i think i am, at any rate, right in taking mr b. g.'s as the view most directly opposed to tradition, and it is from this point of view that i am brought into collision with him. there is a further point which mr baring gould must settle. religion may be theoretically regarded as an affair of growth, progressive, or as an affair of revelation, or something so nearly counterfeiting revelation as to arise spontaneously; but it cannot well be both. now, in the pages of mr baring gould it appears at one time "springing into life" (p. ), and, as in the passage above, analogously to a conception in the mind:--"_at first_ it is full of vigour, constantly on the alert to win converts;" at another, "as a conception slowly evolved;" then all at once "a living belief, vividly luminous" (p. ). again (p. ), "religion does not reach perfection of development at a bound; generations pass away, before," &c.; and (p. ) we find that in all _primitive_ religions the idea of god is the idea of a _devil_, or (_id._) "that the first stage in the conception of a devil is the attribution of evil to god," which is different, inasmuch as it supposes man to start with the knowledge of god, and is, moreover, inconsistent with what is said at page :--"the shapeless religion of a primitive people gradually assumes a definite form. it is that of _nature_ worship. it progresses through polytheism and idolatry, and emerges into monotheism or pantheism." of course this is said upon _the assumption_ that the primitive man was barbarous. but however remote from the fact, it is theoretically as conceivable that man should worship nature as an ideal of beauty and power, as that he should regard it from the first as an apparition of terror; or, in other words, that taking nature-worship for granted, mr max müller's view of it, viz.:--"he begins to lift up his eyes, he stares at the tent of heaven, and asks who supports it? he opens his eyes to the winds, and asks them whence and whither? he is awakened from darkness and slumber by the light of the sun, and him whom his eyes cannot behold, and who seems to grant him the daily pittance of his existence, he calls 'his life, his breath, his brilliant lord and protector'" (chips, i. , _apud_ b. g., ),--is as likely to be the true one as mr baring gould's,[ ] viz.:--"at first man is ... antitheist; but presently he feels resistances.... the convulsions of nature, the storm, the thunder, the exploding volcano, the raging seas, fill him with a sense of there being a power superior to his own, before which he must bow. his religious thought, vague and undetermined, is roused by the opposition of nature to his will" (p. ). [ ] _vide_, however, dr newman's "grammar of assent," p. , _et seq._ mr baring gould postulates, i am aware, the lapse of several generations for the evolution of these ideas. but there is nothing in mr baring gould's statement of the progression or development of the conception of the deity among mankind which might not pass in rapid sequence through the mind of the primitive man,--call him "areios," if you shrink from close contact with history, and refuse to call him adam. why then the indefinite lapse of time? why the progressive advance of the idea through successive generations of mankind? why, except that the primitive barbarism _must_ be assumed; and because (p. ), "in the examination of the springs of religious thought, we have to return again and again to the wild bog of savageism in which they bubble up." but if the savagery was so great, the perplexity how man ever came to make the first step in the induction is much greater than that, having made it, he should proceed on to make the last. it is certain that reason can prove the existence of god and his goodness, and this knowledge evokes the instincts of love and worship. it is true also that man has a conscience of right and wrong, and that among its dictates is a sense of the obligation of love and worship. still this will not account for the existence of religion in the world. much less will mr baring gould's theory of an induction by mankind collectively, spread over several centuries, account either for the notion or for the institution. neither, apart from direct or indirect revelation, would it prove more than that man was religious, though without religion; capable of arriving at the knowledge of god's existence, but without any knowledge how to propitiate him; seeking god, but not able to find him. therefore, mr baring gould truly says--"philosophy alone is not religion." philosophy, as we have seen, may prove the existence of god. but religion, from the commencement of the world, has conveyed the idea that there is a particular mode in which god must be worshipped. here philosophy is entirely at fault. mr baring gould again truly says that "dogma, worship, and discipline are the constituents, so to speak, the mind, spirit, and body of religion" (p. ). but he goes no further, and does not explain how it came about that mankind in all ages have adhered with singular pertinacity to the notion that religion could teach that on which philosophy must perforce be silent. has not the greater intellect ever been on the side of philosophy? nay,[ ] in the epochs in which intellectual superiority was undeniably on the side of philosophy, did the populace go to the academy or to the oracles? if the human intellect had originally framed the ritualistic observances, which bore so strange a resemblance in different parts of the world; if human sagacity had originated the idea of sacrifice (and wherefore sacrifice from the point of view of human sagacity?); if philosophy had revealed to them the religious conceptions which they retained, and had been able to define the relation of man to the divinity--would not mankind, in all ages, have had recourse to its greatest intellects for the solution of its doubts, rather than to the guardians of an obscure and corrupt tradition? the question no doubt is complicated with the evidence as to demonolatry; but the extent to which this prevailed only enforces the argument against mr baring gould, to whom, apparently, the demon (p. ) is not a real existence, but only the embodiment of a phase of thought, and must seriously embarrass those who attribute the regeneration of man from savagery to intellectual growth and natural progress. [ ] "the lively grecian, in a land of hills, rivers, and fertile plains, and sounding shores, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . in despite of the gross fictions chanted in the streets by wandering rhapsodists, and in contempt of doubt and bold denial hourly urged amid the wrangling schools, a spirit hung, beautiful region! o'er thy towns and farms, statues and temples, and memorial tombs; and emanations were perceived, and acts of immortality, in nature's course, exemplified by mysteries that were felt as bonds, _on grave philosopher imposed_, and armed warrior; and in every grove a gay or pensive tenderness prevailed, when piety more awful had relaxed." --wordsworth, _excursion_, b. iv. but demonology apart, what would have countervailed against the superiority of reason and the intellectual prestige of the world except a belief in a tradition of primitive revelation? what else will account for the different recognitions of philosophy and religion--priests and sophists? what else would have prevented mankind from resorting in their difficulties to where the greatest intellect was found? at page , this truth seems to gain partial recognition in the pages of mr baring gould:-- "in conclusion, it seems certain that for man's spiritual well-being, these forces ('the tendency to crystallise, and the tendency to dissolve') need co-ordination. under an infallible guide, regulating every moral and theological item of his spiritual being, his mental faculties are given him that they may be atrophied, like the eyes of the oyster, which, being useless in the sludge of its bed, are re-absorbed. under a perpetual modification of religious belief, his convictions become weak and watery, without force, and destitute of purpose. in the barren wilderness of sinai there are here and there green and pleasant oases. how come they there? by basaltic dykes arresting the rapid drainage which leaves the major part of that land bald and waste. so in the region of religion, _revelations and theocratic systems have been the dykes saving it_ from barrenness, and encouraging mental and sentimental fertility" (p. ). it is impossible that we should quarrel with this illustration, it is so exactly to our point. is it not another way of affirming the position which i maintain against sir john lubbock? (ch. xii.) may not we, too, take our stand upon these "oases" of tradition, which "revelations" and "theocratic systems" have formed, and ask what the human intellect has been able to achieve for the spiritual cravings of man in the waste around? mr baring gould, indeed, says (p. ):-- "a power of free volition within or outside all matter in motion was a rational solution to the problems of effects of which man could not account himself the cause. such is the origin of the idea of god--of god _whether many_, inhabiting each brook and plant, and breeze and planet, _or as_ being a world-soul, _or as_ a supreme cause, the creator and sustainer of the universe. the common consent of mankind has been adduced as a proof of a tradition of a revelation in past times; but the fact that most races of men believe in one or more deities proves nothing more than that all men have drawn the same inference from the same premises. it is idle to speak of a 'sensus numinis' as existing as a primary conviction in man, when the conception may be reduced to more rudimentary ideas. the revelation is in man's being, in his conviction of the truth of the principle of causation, and thus it is a revelation made to every rational being." grant that it is so, there is nothing here which militates against our position, which is this,--not certainly that there is not a revelation of god in man's being, made to every rational creature, but that there has been an express revelation superadded to it; and that it is not true that "the common consent of mankind to the existence of god has been adduced as a proof of a tradition of a revelation in past times," but that the mode and manner of the consent attests the fact of tradition and the fact of revelation. but what have we just heard? that there is a revelation of god's existence in man's nature, _i.e._ in _each_ man's nature--"it is a revelation made to every man's nature." then the indefinite lapse of time demanded for the evolution of the ideas, which we have just been combating, is not after all necessary. "_habemus reum confitentum._" but inasmuch as the consent of mankind is only "to one or more deities," it is only so far a testimony to the existence of god as it is shown that polytheism arose out of the corruption of this belief; and, moreover, by no means proves "that all men have drawn the same inference from the same premises," even if it were possible to reconcile this statement with what is said at page --"the shapeless religion of a primitive people gradually assumes a definite form. it is that of nature-worship. _it progresses through_ polytheism and idolatry, _and emerges into_ monotheism or pantheism" (_vide infra_). at this point i should wish to put in the accumulation of evidence which l'abbe gainet has collected to prove that monotheism was the primitive belief.[ ] when this evidence is dispersed, it will be time enough to return to the subject. [ ] "monotheisme des peuples primitifs," in vol. iii. of "la bible sans la bible." in any case, we may fall back upon the following testimony in mr baring gould:-- "it is the glory of the semitic race to have given to the world, in a compact and luminous form, that monotheism which the philosophers of greece and rome only vaguely apprehended, and which has become the heritage of the christian and mohammedan alike. of the semitic race, however, one small branch, jewdom, preserved and communicated the idea. every other branch of that race _sank into_ polytheism (_vide supra_).... it is at first sight inexplicable that jewish monotheism, which was in time to exercise such a prodigious influence over men's minds, should have so long remained the peculiar property of an insignificant people. but every religious idea has its season, and the thoughts of men have their avatars.... it was apparently necessary that mankind should be given full scope for unfettered development, that they should feel in all directions after god, if haply they might find him, in _order that_ the foundations of _inductive philosophy might be laid_, that the religious idea might run itself out through polytheistic channels _for the development of art_. certainly jewish monotheism remained in a state of congelation till the religious thought of antiquity _had exhausted its own vitality_, and _had worked out every other problem of theodicy_; then suddenly thawing, it poured over the world its fertilising streams" (p. ).[ ] [ ] mr b. gould also says, p. --"the semitic divine names bear _indelibly on their front the stamp of their origin_, and the language itself testifies against the insulation and abstraction of these names from polytheism. the aryan's tongue bore no such testimony to him. the spirit of his language _led him away from monotheism_, whilst that of the shemite was an ever-present monitor, directing him to a god, sole and undivided. 'the glory of the semitic race is this,' says m. renan, 'that from _its earliest days_ it grasped that notion of the deity which all other people have had to adopt from its example, and on the faith of its declaration.'" from all this it results that, so far as the testimony of the semitic race is concerned (which, by the by, a concurrence of tradition points to as the oldest), the human race did not "emerge into monotheism," but "sank into polytheism;" that monotheism was their belief from "their earliest days," and their language bearing testimony to the same, shows also that it was primitively so. it moreover results, that although mankind may have been allowed to sink into polytheism, as a warning or a chastisement, it certainly could not have been "in order that the foundations of inductive philosophy might be laid;" for it is quite apparent from this extract that the induction was _never made_ that man did _not_ "emerge into monotheism;" but that having "_exhausted its vitality_," and "worked out every problem of theodicy" in the way of corruption, it _received_ monotheism back again from the only people who had preserved it intact. at any rate, monotheism came to it _ab extra_, and before polytheism had attained the "full scope of that development" which was necessary for the perfection of art! but mr baring gould having a perception that this admission (although he has not apparently seen its full significance) is fatal to his theory, hastens to unsay it at page , "whence did the jews derive their monotheism? monotheism is _not_ a feature of any primitive religion; but that which is a feature of secondary religions is the appropriation to a tribe of a particular god, which that tribe exalts above all other gods." in support of this view, mr baring gould quotes certain texts of scripture--isa. xxxvi. , (_i.e._ words spoken by rabsaces the assyrian), and jos. xxiv. , "but if it seem evil to you to serve _the lord_, you have your choice: choose this day that which pleaseth you, whom you would rather serve, whether the gods which your fathers served in mesopotamia [query, an allusion to the idolatry in the patriarchal households? gen. xxxv. , "the gods" being of the same kind with "the gods of the amorites"], or the gods of the amorites, in whose land you dwell; but as for me and my house, we will serve _the lord_." one would have thought this text too plain to be cavilled at. is not _the lord_ whom josue invokes _the same lord_ who (gen. i. ) "in the beginning created heaven and earth," and who said to noah (gen. vi. ), "i will destroy _man whom i have created_, from the face of the earth;" and who (exod. iii. ) appeared to moses in a flame of fire in the bush which was not consumed; and to whom moses said, "lo, i shall go to the children of israel, and say to them, _the god of your fathers_ hath sent me to you; if they should say to me, what is his name? what shall i say to them? (ver. ), god said to moses, _i am who am_: he said thus shalt thou say to the children of israel, _he who is_ hath sent me to you." when or where has monotheism been more explicitly declared? is there any phrase which the human mind could invent in which it could be more adequately defined? and when god speaks as "the god of abraham, of isaac, and of jacob," is it not as if he would say, i am not only the god who speaks to the individual heart, but who is _also traditionally_ known to you all collectively through my manifestations and revelations to your forefathers? compare matt. xxii. . _inter alia_, mr b. gould also instances such unmistakable orientalisms as "'among the gods there is none like unto thee, o lord,' says david, and he exalts jehovah above the others as a 'king above all gods.'" where, then, may we ask, is the monotheism, "the glory of the semitic race," to be found, if not in the time of david? the proof which follows is more clinching still-- "jacob seems to have made a sort of bargain with jehovah that he would serve him instead of other gods, on condition that he took care of him during his exile from home. the _next_ stage in popular jewish theology was a denial of the power of the gentile gods, and the treatment of them as idols. tradition and history point to abraham as the first on whom the idea of the impotence of the deities of his father's house first broke. he is said to have smashed the images in nahor's oratory, and to have put a hammer into the hands of one idol which he left standing, as a sign to nahor that that one had destroyed all the rest." unfortunately for this view--according to the only authentic narrative we have of the facts, gen. xii.--abraham must have preceded jacob by at least two generations! i think that, after this, we may fairly ask mr baring gould, who is learned in medieval myths, to trace for us more distinctly the notion of the chronicler who had a theory that henry ii. lived before henry i. with this passage i shall conclude this chapter, merely observing, that if any department of study existed which had for its special object the investigation of tradition,[ ] it is simply impossible that a work (clever in many respects) such as that of mr baring gould should ever have been written. [ ] i append, however, the following passage from mr baring gould, as it may be serviceable in tracing tradition, and to which i may have occasion to recur (p. ):--"among the american indians an object of worship, and the centre of a cycle of legend, is michabo, the great hare or rabbit. from the remotest wilds of the north-west to the coast of the atlantic, from the southern boundaries of carolina to the cheerless swamps of hudson's bay, the algonquins are never tired of gathering round the winter fire, and repeating the story of manibozho or michabo, the great hare. with entire unanimity, their various branches, the powhatans, &c., ... and the western tribes, perhaps without exception, spoke of this 'chimerical beast,' as one of the old missionaries called it, as their common ancestor (brinton's "myths of the new world," p. ). michabo is described as having been four-legged, monstrous, crouching on the face of the primeval waste of waters, with all his court, composed of four-footed creatures, around him. he formed the earth out of a grain of sand taken from the bottom of the ocean. it is strange that such an insignificant creature as a hare should have received this apotheosis, and it has been generally regarded as an instance of the senseless brute-worship of savages. but its prevalence leads the mythologist to suspect that some confusion of words has led to a confusion of ideas, a suspicion which becomes a certainty when the name is analysed, for it is then found to be the great white one, or great light, and to be in reality the sun, a fact of which the modern indians are utterly unaware." if mr baring gould finds that the word michabo also signifies "the great light," or "the great white one," it goes far to identify the worship of the hare with the worship of the sun, more especially when it is noted (_vide_ prescott's "conquest of mexico," i. ) that the hare was one of the four hieroglyphics of the year among the ancient mexicans.[a] animal worship seems here plainly connected with sun-worship. but above and beyond it, do we not here also get a glimpse of more celestial light? "the great light" is also "the great white one." he is described as "crouching on the face of the primeval waste of waters." in these phrases we seem almost to read the text of gen. i. , "and god said, be light, and light was made;" ver. , "darkness was on the face of the deep, and the spirit of god moved over the waters." the indians also say that he "formed the earth out of a grain of sand taken from the bottom of the ocean." does not this not only embody the tradition that god created the world out of nothing, but also the mode of the creation by the separation of the water from the land: ver. , "god also said, let the waters that are under the heavens be gathered together in one place; and let the dry land appear.... and god called the dry land earth, and the gathering together of the waters he called seas." [a] these hieroglyphics were symbolical of the four elements. prescott adds--"it is not easy to see the connection between the terms 'rabbit' and 'air,' which lead the respective series." possibly he may not have been aware of the tradition of the algonquins as above. appendix to chapter vii. cardinal wiseman ("lectures on science and religion," ii. - ), in speaking of what was characteristic of most oriental religions--a belief "in the existence of emanated influences intermediate between the divine and earthly natures," is led on to give an account of the curious gnostic sect, the nazarians--"the first of these errors was common, perhaps, to other gnostic sects; but in the codex nasaræus we have the two especially distinguished as different beings--light and life. in it the first emanation from god is the king of light; the second, fire; the third, water; the fourth, life." i wish to note that, whether or not their notions as to emanations originally meant more than the act of creation, a tradition as to the successive order of the creation seems clearly embodied in the text. god created first of all light; _then_ the sun (the firmament) is fire (the distinct creation of the light and the sun in genesis is so marked as to create a special difficulty in the cosmogony); _then_ water; _then_ life, in beasts, birds, reptiles, &c.; lastly, man. comp. with _supra_, p. , and with the above legend of michabo. "a slavonian account of creation.--the current issue of the literary society of prague includes a volume of popular tales collected in all the slavonian countries, and translated by m. erben into czech. we extract the shortest--'_in the beginning there was only god, and he lay asleep and dreamed._ at last it was time for him to wake and look at the world. wherever he looked through the sky, a star came out. he wondered what it was, and got up and began to walk. at last he came to our earth; he was very tired; the sweat ran down his forehead, and a drop fell on the ground. we are all made of this drop, and that is why we are the sons of god. man was not made for pleasure; he was born of the sweat of god's face, and now he must live by the sweat of his own: that is why men have no rest.'"--_the academy_, feb. , . i wish also to examine, in greater detail than i should have had space for in a note, how far the case of the samoyeds bears out mr baring gould's theory of the development of idolatry from its grosser to its more refined manifestations, or of the progress of the human race from barbarism to the light of religion and of civilisation. mr baring gould says, p. -- "'when a schaman is aware that i have no household god,' said a samoyed to m. castren, the linguist, 'he comes to me, and i give him a squirrel, or an ermine skin.' this skin he brings back moulded 'into a human shape.' ... 'this los is a fetish; it is not altogether an idol; it is a spirit entangled in a material object. what that object is matters little; a stump of a tree, a stone, a rag, or an animal, serves the purpose of condensing the impalpable deity into a tangible reality.' through this coarse superstition glimmers an intelligent conception. it is that of an all-pervading deity, who is focussed, so to speak, in the fetish. this deity is called num. 'i have heard some samoyeds declare that the earth, the sea--all nature, in short--are num.' 'where is num? asked castren of a samoyed, and the man pointed to the blue sea: but an old woman told him that the sun was num. the siethas, worshipped by the lapps, had no certain figure or shape formed by nature or art; they were either trees or rough stones, much _worn by water_. tomæus says they were often mere tree stumps with the roots upwards."[ ] [ ] is not "num" cognate to "numen?" and their worship of trees and worn stones worship of memorials of the deluge? compare boulanger, _infra_, ch. xi., and on the regard for boulders in india (_vide_ gainet, vol. i.) bryant ("mythology," iii. ) says, speaking of the egyptians--"i have mentioned that they showed a reverential regard to fragments of rock which were particularly uncouth and horrid; and this practice seems to have prevailed in _many other countries_." probably for the same reason the lapps worshipped their lakes and rivers, as is known from the names annexed to them--"ailekes jauvre," that is, sacred lake, &c. _vide_ pinkerton, i. . (leems.) it is curious to contrast this recent account of the samoides with an account, apparently well informed and discriminating, in . pinkerton, i. --"the religion of the samoides is very simple.... they _admit the existence of a supreme being_, creator of all things, eminently good and beneficent; a quality which, according to their mode of thinking, dispenses them from any adoration of him, or addressing their prayers to him, because they suppose this being takes no interest in mundane affairs; and consequently, does not exact nor need the worship of man. they join to this idea that of a being eternal and invisible, very powerful, though subordinate to the first, and disposed to evil. it is to this being that they ascribe all the misfortunes which befall them in this life. nevertheless, they do not worship, although much in fear of him. if they place any reliance in the counsels of koedesnicks or tadebes (the 'schamans' referred to above), it is only on account of the connection which they esteem these people to have with this evil being; otherwise they submit themselves with perfect apathy to all the misfortunes which can befall them." "the sun and moon, as well, hold the place of subaltern deities. it is by their intervention, they imagine, that the supreme being dispenses his favours; but they worship them as little as the idols or fitches (fetishes) which they carry about them according to the recommendation of their koedesnicks." without pursuing the investigation further, it seems plain that the samoides, from being (at least) deists in the last century (dr hooker, "himalayan journal," gives a similar account of the lepchas), have lapsed, apparently through sun-worship, to a state of pantheism, if not fetishism. of the tongusy, a people who, if not kin to the samoides, have an analogous worship--("they are altogether unacquainted with any kind of literature, and worship the sun and moon. they have many shamans among them, who differ little from those i formerly described."--bell's "travels in asia, siberia")--bell, travelling in siberia, , says--"although i have observed that the tongusy in general worship the sun and moon, there _are many exceptions_ to this observation. i have found intelligent people among them who believed there was a being superior to both sun and moon, and who _created them and all the world_." if, then, we may connect the tongusy with the samoides, it would appear that whereas mr baring gould (_i.e._, castren) finds the latter sunk in fetishism, they were, the one in , the other in , the worshippers of the sun and moon, joined with the knowledge and tradition of the true god still subsisting amongst them. f. schlegel ("phil. of history," p. ) says--"the greeks, who described india in the time of alexander the great, divided the indian religious sects into brachmans and _samaneans_.... but by the greek denomination of _samaneans_ we must certainly understand the buddhists, as among the _rude nations of central asia_, as in other countries, the priests of the religion of fo bear _at this day_ the name of _schamans_." compare professor rawlinson, "ancient monarchies," i. , . (_vide infra_, p. , , .) chapter viii. _mythology._ since all antediluvian traditions meet in noah, and are transmitted through him, there is an _à priori_ probability that we shall find all the antediluvian traditions confused in noah. i shall discuss this further when i come to regard him under the aspect of saturn. as a consequence, we must not expect to find (the process of corruption having commenced in the race of ham, almost contemporaneously with noah) a pure and unadulterated tradition anywhere; and i allege more specifically, that whenever we find a tradition of noah and the deluge, we shall find it complicated and confused with previous communications with the almighty, and also with traditions of adam and paradise. but inasmuch as the tradition is necessarily through noah, and in any case applies to him at one remove, it does not greatly affect the argument i have in hand. there is a further probability which confronts us on the outset, that in every tradition, with the lapse of time, though the events themselves are likely to be substantially transmitted, they may become transposed in their order of succession. we shall see this in the case of noah and his posterity. the principal cause being, that the immediate founder of the race is, as a rule, among all the nations of antiquity, deified and placed at the head of every genealogy and history. "joves omnes reges vocârunt antiqui." thus belus, whom modern discovery seems certainly to have identified with nimrod, in the chaldean mythology appears as jupiter, and even as the creator separating light from darkness (rawlinson, "ancient monarchies," i. ; gainet, "hist. de l'anc. et nouv. test.," i. ). but nimrod is also mixed up with jupiter in the god bel-merodach. in more natural connection nimrod--("who may have been worshipped in different parts of chaldea under different titles," rawlinson, i. )--_nimrod_ appears as the _father_ of _hurki_ the moon-god, whose worship he probably introduced; and, what is much more to the point, he appears as the father of nin (whom i shall presently identify with noah); whilst in one instance, at least, the genealogy is inverted, and he appears as the _son of nin_. thus, too, hercules and saturn are confounded, just as we find adam and noah confounded ("many classical traditions, we must remember, identified hercules with saturn," _vide_ rawlinson, i. ). also in grecian mythology prometheus (adam) figures as the son of deucalion (noah), and also of japetus (japhet); and so, too, adam and noah, in the mahabharata, are equally in tradition in the person of manou (_vide_ gainet, i. ), and in mexico in the person of the god quetzalcoatl (_vide infra_, p. ). before, however, pursuing the special subject of this inquiry further, it appears to me impossible to avoid an argument on a subject long debated, temporarily abandoned through the exhaustion of the combatants, and now again recently brought into prominence through the writings of mr gladstone, dr dollinger, mr max müller, and others--the source and origin of mythology.[ ] [ ] this chapter was written before the publication of mr cox's "mythology of the aryan nations." it will be seen, however, that i indulge the hope that much that is seductive, and much even that is systematic, in mr cox's view, will be found to be compatible with the line i have indicated. now, here, i am quite ready to adopt, in the first place, the opinion of l'abbé gainet, that every exclusive system must come to naught, "que toutes les tentatives qu'on ai faites pour expliquer le polythéisme par un système exclusif tombent à faux et n'expliquent rien." yet, whilst fully admitting an early and perhaps concurrent admixture of sabaism,[ ] i consider that the facts and evidence contained in the pages of rawlinson will enable us to arrive at the history of idolatry by a mode much more direct than conjecture. the pages of rawlinson prove the identity of nimrod and belus, and his worship in the earliest times. on the other hand, there has been a pretty constant tradition[ ] that nimrod first raised the standard of revolt against the lord; and the erection of the tower of babel seems to show a state of things ripe for idolatry. here recent discovery and ancient tradition concur in establishing hero-worship as among the earliest forms of idolatry. but further, the arab tradition of nimrod's apotheosis, analogous to the mysterious and miraculous disappearance of enoch (_vide infra_, p. ), suggests how hero-worship might become almost identical with the worship of spirits, which l'abbé gainet inclines to think the first and most natural mode. if there was a tradition among them that one of their ancestors was raised up to heaven,[ ] why may they not have argued, when their minds had become thoroughly corrupted, that their immediate ancestor, the mighty nimrod, had been so raised? and when one ancestor was deified the rest would have been deified in sequence, or according to their relationship to him. what, again, more likely than that, when through the corruptions of mankind the communications of the most high ceased, they should turn to those to whom the communications had been made, at first perhaps innocently in intercession, and, as corruption deepened, in worship?[ ] [ ] philo. _apud_ eusebius, who has transmitted the phoenician tradition (_vide_ bunsen's "egypt," iv. ), seems to me to indicate the mode in which it came about in the following words--"now chronos, whose phoenician epithet was el, _a ruler of the land_, and subsequently after his death, _deified_ in the constellation of kronos (saturn)," &c. as to saturn, _vide_ ch. x. in the cosmical theory there is analogy as to the process of deification--"in the phoenician cosmogonies, the connection between the highest god and a subordinate male and female demiurgic principle is of frequent occurrence" (bunsen, iv. ). it would seemingly be more in fitness with a cosmical theory to find direct adoration of the principle, without evidence of any previous or concurrent process of deification. mr w. palmer ("egyptian chronicles," i. ) says--"but when we find the rulers of the first two periods in the chronicle, its xiii. gods and viii. demigods, answering closely to the two generations of the antediluvian and post-diluvian patriarchs in number, and therefore also in the average length of the reigns and generations; and when we know, besides, as we do, that the pantheon of the egyptians and other nations, which they said had all borrowed from them, was peopled, in part at least, _with deified ancestors_--for even the heavenly luminaries, and the _elements_, and _powers of nature_, and _notions of the true god still remaining_, or of angels and demons, so far as they were invested with humanity and sex, _were identified with human ancestors_; we cannot doubt that kronos," &c. [ ] "venator contra dominum," st augustine; "cité de dieu," xvi. ch. iv.; pastoret, "hist. de la legislation." [ ] gen. v. , says only--"and he walked with god, and was seen no more: because god took him." (_vide_ also john iii. .) there might still have been the belief and tradition (according to appearances) that he was so raised. (compare kings ii. , and ecclesiasticus, xliv. .) [ ] i believe, however, that the apostasy in the hamitic race generally was much more direct; and i entirely agree with bryant that it must have resulted at an early period in a systematic scheme of mixed solar and ancestral worship. therefore, in any hamitic tradition, we shall not be startled at finding (even in the commemorative ceremonies of the deluge) evidence of solar mythology inextricably blended with ancestral traditions. we, however, are only concerned with the ancestral traditions, and in so far as we can discriminate them, mr cox's evidence of solar mythology will form no barrier to our inquiry. in the preceding page i have quoted a passage from sanchoniathon, which seems to indicate the mode in which the mixed system arose; but there "cronos" (noah) is deified in the planet saturn. as a rule, however, we find him deified in the sun (bryant, ii. , , ). ham, however, is sometimes also deified in the sun; and in cases where ham is so deified, it is not unlikely that we shall find the patriarch relegated to saturn. l'abbé gainet, in another part of his work, draws attention to the worship of ancestors in china, and asks whether the idols of laban had reference to more than some such secondary objects? it will be recollected that it was precisely the extent to which this veneration was to be considered culpable which was the subject-matter of the unfortunate disputes between certain religious orders in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries (_vide_ huc's "chinese empire," and cretineau joly's "hist. de la com. de jesus," vol. iii. chap. iii., and vol. v. chap. i.) indeed, among the semitic races it may never have degenerated into idolatry. still it appears to me that weight should be attached to this tendency, more especially in primitive times, when the recollection of ancestors who had been driven out of paradise, to whom direct revelations had been made, and who were naturally reputed to have been "nearer to the gods" (plato, cicero[ ]), would have been all in all to their descendants. then, again, as we have just seen, there was the tradition among them of one man who had been carried up into heaven, and accordingly, when hero-worship culminated in the deification of man, we are not surprised to find it taking the form of this apotheosis as in the identification of nimrod and enoch. [ ] "quoniam antiquitas proxime accedit ad deos."--_de legibus_, ii. . this tendency to idolatry through hero-worship seems to me so natural and direct, that i think, apart from the facts _à priori_, i should have been led to the conclusion that it was the actual manner in which it was brought about.[ ] it is not denied, on the other hand, that there always has been a tendency to nature-worship also; and, indeed, there is probably a stage during which every mythology will be found to have come under its influence. but the inclination at the present moment is unmistakably to an exclusive astral or solar system. the point of interest which excites me to this inquiry is simply to determine the value of the historical traditions which may lie embedded in these systems; and i shall be content to find them, whether or not they form the primary nucleus, or whether only subsequently imported into, and blended with, solar mythology. it is easy to conceive how a mythology embodying historical traditions could pass into an astral system. in this case incongruity would not startle; but it is difficult to imagine a pure astral system which would not be too harmonious and symmetrical to admit of the grossness, inconsistency, and incongruity to which the process of adaptation would inevitably give rise, and to which hero-worship is inherently prone. as mr gladstone says (homer, ii. ):-- "there is much in the theo-mythology of homer which, if it had been a system founded on fable, could not have appeared there. it stands before us like one of our old churches, having different parts of its fabric in the different styles of architecture, each of which speaks for itself, and which we know to belong to the several epochs in the history of the art when their characteristic combinations were respectively in vogue." [ ] the adverse decision, in the matter of the ceremonies, did not, i apprehend, touch the question we are now considering, albeit the ceremonies had reference to deceased ancestors. this will be apparent, i think, from consideration of the grounds upon which the question was debated. the jesuits relied upon the sense in which the ceremonies were regarded by the mandarins and literary men whom they consulted, whilst their opponents supported their arguments by reference to the popular notions and the superstitious practices _introduced_ by the bonzes. (_vide_ cretineau joly's "hist. de la com. de jesus," vol. v. chap. i.) mr gladstone (_passim_) victoriously combats the theory of nature-worship as applied to grecian mythology; but it appears to me that his argument and mode of reasoning would apply with tenfold effect to the chaldean mythology, where there is a likelihood at least that we shall view idolatry in its early commencements. i consider that this view is borne out by the following passage from professor rawlinson's "ancient monarchies," i. :-- "in the first place, it must be noticed that the religion was to a certain extent _astral_. the heaven itself, the sun, the moon, and the five planets, have each their representative in the chaldean pantheon among the chief objects of worship. at the same time it is to be observed, that the astral element is not universal, but partial; and that even where it has place, it is but one aspect of the mythology, not by any means its full and complete exposition. the chaldean religion even here is far from being mere sabeanism--the simple worship of the 'host of heaven.' the ether, the sun, the moon, and still more the five planetary gods, are something above and beyond those parts of nature. like the classical apollo and diana, mars and venus, they are real persons, with a life and a history, a power and an influence, which no ingenuity can translate into a metaphorical representation of phenomena attaching to the air and to the heavenly bodies. it is doubtful, indeed, whether this class of gods are really of astronomical origin, and not rather primitive deities, whose characters and attributes were, to a great extent, fixed and settled before the notion arose of connecting them with certain parts of nature. occasionally they seem to represent heroes rather than celestial bodies; and they have all attributes quite distinct from their physical and astronomical character. "secondly, the striking resemblance of the chaldean system to that of the classical mythology, seems worthy of particular attention. this resemblance is too general and too close in some respects to allow of the supposition that mere accident has produced the coincidence." the evidence in the "ancient monarchies" seems to me to decide the point, not only for perhaps the earliest mythology with which we are acquainted, but also for the grecian mythology, which has generally been the ground of dispute. it is curiously in illustration, however, of the common origin of mythology, that the mythology of greece should be equally well traced to assyria and egypt. as evidence of the theory according to the assyrian origin, let us turn, for instance, to professor rawlinson's identification of nergal with mars. it is true he appears as the planet mars under the form of "nerig," and he also figures as the storm-ruler; but can anything well be more human than the rest of his titles? "his name is evidently compounded of the two hamitic roots 'nir' = a man, and 'gula' = great; so that he is 'the great man' or 'the great hero.' his titles are 'the king of battle,' 'the champion of the gods,' 'the strong begetter,' 'the tutelar god of babylonia,' and 'the god of the _chase_.'... we have no evidence that nergal was worshipped in the primitive times. he is just mentioned by some of the early assyrian kings, who regard him as _their ancestor_.... it is conjectured that, like bil-nipru, he represents the _deified hero nimrod_, who may have been worshipped in different parts of chaldea under different titles.... it is probable that nergal's symbol was the man-lion. nir is sometimes used in the inscriptions in the meaning of lion, and the semitic name for _the god himself_ is 'aria,' the ordinary term for the king of beasts both in hebrew and syriac. perhaps we have here the true derivation of the greek name for the god of war 'ares' ([greek: arês]), which has _long puzzled classical scholars_. the lion would symbolise both the hunting and the fighting propensities of the god, for he not only engages in combats, but often chases his prey and runs it down like a hunter. again, if nergal is the man-lion, his association in the buildings with the _man-bull_ would be exactly parallel with the conjunction which _we so constantly find between him and nin in the inscriptions_."[ ]--_rawlinson_, i. - . [ ] "notwithstanding his stature, beauty, hand, and voice, which constitute, taken together, a proud appearance, it seems as if mars had stood lower in the mind of homer than any olympian deity who takes part in the trojan war, except venus only."--_gladstone's "homer,"_ ii. . i must draw attention also to the remarkable absence here of all the monotheistic epithets we shall find attached to ana, enu, and hoa.[ ] [ ] _vide infra_, next chap. ix. let us now turn to the theory which is most in the ascendant, and which professes to see in the old mythological legends only the thoughts and metaphors of a mythic period. this theory, which was mr max müller's in the first instance, being not only exclusively drawn from the conclusions of philology, but also exclusive in itself, cannot be anywhere stronger than its weakest point. if it is shown in the instance of one primary myth, that it was the embodiment of an historical legend, or theological belief, the whole ideal structure of a mythic period must collapse; for the rejection of eclecticism in any form, which would embrace a biblical or euhemeristic interpretation of the myths, is at the foundation of mr max müller's idea, and, indeed, would be incompatible with the theory of a mythic period such as he conceives it. the connection of nimrod with nergal in the assyrian mythology, of nergal with their planet nerig, and of the semitic name of the god "aria" with the greek [greek: arês] and the latin mars, must, i think, form a chain of evidence destined to embarass mr max müller and mr cox: for, apart from the numerous points of contact of the assyrian and egyptian with the greek mythologies, it can hardly be contended that there was a mythic period for the aryan which was not common to the whole human race. it would be natural to suppose, that a mythology which was generated in a mythic period--which was the invention of mankind in a peculiar state of the imagination--would have been developed in its fulness and completeness, like minerva starting from the brain of jupiter, and would have borne the evidence of its origin in the symmetry of its form. mr max müller, on the contrary, seems to yield the whole position, in what, from his point of view, looks like an inadvertent phrase, that "there were myths before there was a mythology." it is not that the view is not true, or that it is inconsistent with his analysis of the myths, but that it is so perfectly consistent with ours! incongruity, such as would come from the confusion of separate myths, would be no difficulty for us; but it is hard to understand how mere fragmentary legends--sometimes attractive, but more frequently repulsive and revolting, having no hold on what is nearest the heart of a people, the traditions of its past--should have been so tenaciously preserved for so long a time under such different conditions in various countries. solar legends, spun out of confused metaphors, seem an inadequate explanation, unless we also suppose idolatry of the sun. in that case, the mythology, in so far as it was solar, would precede the myths; in other words, the myths would be radiations from a central idea. that in the day when mankind prevaricated after this fashion, and committed the act of idolatry in their hearts, everything, from the phenomena of nature to the remote events of their history, would come under the influence of a new set of ideas may be easily conceived. at such a period--and the commencement of these things at least was not impossible in the days when, in the spirit of mistrust or defiance, men drew together to build the city and tower in the plain of sennaar (shinar)--much of what mr cox supposes to have been the common parlance of mankind becomes natural, and a mythic period within these limits conceivable. but such a theory would not necessarily be exclusive of other forms of idolatry--as, for instance, the worship of ancestors--whilst it might clear up obscure points in the evidence which tends to establish the latter. the theory, however, must embrace many shades and gradations--from the hamitic extreme to the protomyths, which in time obscured the monotheism of the aryan of ancient greece, and of the peruvian incas. (p. .) this would seem, unless they ignore all difficulties, a better standpoint for those who think, through the application of the solar legends, "to unlock almost all the secrets of mythologies;" and any theory connected with the sun and sun-worship has this advantage, that it can be extended to everything under the sun! it is sufficiently obvious that no system can be held to have settled these questions, which, if there were myths before there was a mythology, does not appropriate these antecedent myths, or exclude counter explanations; and it is equally clear that there can have been no mythology of which the solar legends were the offspring, if the legends embody thoughts which transcend the mythology; and no mythic period if they testify to facts and ideas incompatible with its existence. allowing for a certain confusion arising out of "polyonomy," this sort of confusion, if there were nothing else, ought not to baffle the ingenuity of experts like mr max müller and mr cox. such complications should be as easily disentangled as the superadded figures in egyptian chronology (_vide_ chapter vi.) when the key has been found. but does mr max müller profess to have brought the various legends into harmony? on the contrary (ii. ), he frankly admits--"much, no doubt, remains to be done, and _even_ with the assistance of the veda, the whole of greek mythology will never be deciphered and translated." i have no wish to push an admission unfairly, but this appears to me fatal as regards the argument with which i am dealing.[ ] if there are myths which never will be deciphered, this must be because they have had some non-astral or non-solar origin, which i consider to be almost equivalent to saying that they must have had some pre-astral origin. what that precise origin was i think i have been able sufficiently to indicate in italicising the subjoined sentences from mr max müller. if these enigmas can be shown to be strictly local and grecian, _cadit quæstio;_ but if they are common to other mythologies, and these the oldest, i must say they have the look of antecedent existence. at any rate, like those inconvenient boulders in the sand and gravel strata, they require the intervention of some glacial period to account for them.[ ] [ ] mr cox ("mythology," p. xiv.) says--"mythology, as we call it now, is simply a collection of the sayings by which men, once upon a time, described whatever they saw or heard in the countries where they lived. this key, which has unlocked almost all the secrets of mythology, was placed in our hands by professor max müller, who has done more than all other writers to bring out the exquisite and touching poetry which underlies those ancient legends. he has shown us that in this, their first shape, these sayings were all perfectly natural, and marvellously beautiful and true. we see the lovely evening twilight die out, &c.... they said that the beautiful eurydice," &c. (_vide infra_, p. ). it would appear, however, from mr cox's more extended work, "the mythology of the aryan nations," that the sayings of mankind in the mythic period did not extend to speculations as to their origin and destiny, or embrace the facts of their history, or the deeds of their ancestors, but that their whole converse was upon the sun and moon, and the phenomena of the outward world. [ ] mr max müller makes the distinction between "primitive or organic legends" (and it is to these i wish to limit the discussion) "and the second, those which were imported in later times from one literature to another.... the former _represents one common ancient stratum of language and thought_ reaching from india to europe; the latter consist of boulders of various strata carried along by natural and artificial means from one country to another" (ii. ). it is clear that mr max müller looks for _harmony_ in his system--"we naturally look back to the scenes on which the curtain of the past has fallen, _for we believe that there ought to be one thought pervading the whole drama of mankind_. and here history steps in, and gives us the thread which connects the present with the past" (p. ). why it was that harmony was not attained seems to be disclosed, if we read the passage in our sense and with a certain transposition of parts, at p. --"there were at athens then, as there have been at all times and in all countries, men who had no sense for the miraculous and supernatural, and who, without having the moral courage to deny altogether what they could not bring themselves to believe, endeavoured to find some plausible explanation _by which the sacred legends_ which _tradition_ had _handed down to them_, and which had been _hallowed_ by _religious observances_, and sanctioned by the authority of the law, might be brought _into harmony with_ the dictates of reason and the _laws_ of _nature_." (compare with _infra_, p. , maine.) i have already hinted that a further consideration appears to me to incapacitate the theory of nature-worship, in any of its disguises, from being taken as the exclusive, or even the primitive form of idolatry, or of perverted tradition; and it is this,--that all the explanations, even the most ingenious, even those which would be accounted "primitive and organic," have their counter explanations, traceable in the corruptions of truth and the perversions of hero-worship. take, for instance, the name zeus, which is in evidence of the primitive monotheism, and which stood in greece, as il or ra in assyria, for the true lord and god, and which has its equivalents in dyaus ("from the sanscrit word which means 'to shine'"); dyaus-pater (zeus-pater), jupiter; tiu (anglo-saxon, whence tuesday); and zia (high german)--_vide_ cox's "mythology." what more natural than to associate the almighty with the heaven where he dwelt? mr max müller ("comparative myth.," "chips," ii. ) says--"thus [greek: zeus], being originally a name of the sky, like the sanscrit dyaus, became gradually a proper name, which betrayed its appellative meaning only in a few proverbial expressions, such as [greek: zeus hyei], or _sub jove frigido_." taking this passage in connection with what is said (p. , of welcker)--"when we ascend with him to the most distant heights of greek history, the idea of god as the supreme being stands before us as a simple fact. next to the adoration of one god, the father of heaven, the father of men, we find in greece a worship of nature." i conclude that mr max müller means, as mr cox means, that the names, zeus or dyaus, was applied to the one true god, whose existence was otherwise and previously known to them.[ ] at starting, therefore, we find that the language borrowed from nature was only called in to give a colouring and expression to a previously known and familiar truth; and here, too, we also see the commencement of incongruity. the simple idea of the heavens might have been harmoniously extended by the imagination; but, complicated with the idea of personality, it gave birth to the awkward and incongruous expression, "[greek: zeús huei], or _sub jove frigido_," a phrase which never could have been originated by the grecian mind, unless the personality of jove had been the idea most prominently before the mind. but if the knowledge of the deity, or even the conception of the personality of zeus was operative in the mythic period, it must have been operative to the extent of embodying what was known or recollected of his dealings in love and anger with mankind, in the legends which they wove, and also of blending them with the confusions which "polyonomy" occasioned. the introduction of this element would seriously embarass mr cox, and would give to mr gladstone's explanation an "_à priori_" probability. [ ] mr max müller, in his essay on "semitic monotheism," when opposing m. renan's view that the monotheism of the semitic race was instinctive, seems to say this still more explicitly--"he thunders and dyaus thunders became synonymous expressions; and by the mere habit of speech he became dyaus and dyaus became he" ("chips," i. ). "at first the names of god, &c., were honest attempts at expressing or representing an idea which could never find adequate expression or representation.... if the greeks had remembered that zeus was but a name or symbol of the deity, there would have been no more harm in calling god by that name than by any other" ( ). it must be remembered that after the name of "zeus," or "dyaus," = sky, had been adopted, they still retained the conception of the divine nature and personality, as is evidenced in the words of the oracle of dodona--"[greek: zeùs ên, zeus éstín, zeus essetai ô megale zeu],--he was, he is, he will be, o great zeus!" also (ii. ) in the orphic lines-- "zeus is the beginning, zeus the middle; out of zeus all things have been made." if we are agreed upon this, then i have no contention with mr max müller; but with max müller as an auxiliary, i direct my argument to the attack of dr dollinger's position ("the gentile and the jew," i. b. ii. p. )--"the beginnings of greek polytheism," viz., "the deification of nature and her powers, or of particular sensible objects, _lay at the root of all the heathen religions_, as they _existed from old time_, amongst the nations now united under the roman empire." according to mr lewes ("hist. of phil.," i. ), it was xenophanes who first confused the sky with the deity--"overarching him was the deep blue infinite vault, immovable and unchangeable, embracing him and all things--_that he proclaimed_ to be god." (contrast the peruvian tradition, _infra_, p. .) st clement of alexandria (strom. v. p. , max müller, chapter i. p. .) says, on the contrary, that xenophanes maintained that there was but "one god, and that he was not like unto men, either in body or mind." take, again, the following passage from mr max müller (p. )--"the idea of a young hero, whether he is called _baldr_, or sigurd, or sigrit, or achilles, or meleager, or kephalos, dying in the fulness of youth--a story so frequently told, localised, and individualised--was first suggested by the sun dying in all his youthful vigour, either at the end of a day, conquered by the powers of darkness, or at the end of the sunny season, stung by the thorn of winter." here is a myth evidently very widely diffused. let it be interpreted by what is told us at p. -- "_baldr_, in the scandinavian edda, the divine prototype of sigurd and sigrit, is beloved by the whole world. gods and men, the whole of nature, all that grows and lives, had sworn to his mother not to hurt the bright hero. the mistletoe alone, that does not grow on the earth, but on trees, had been forgotten, and with it baldr was killed at the winter solstice.... baldr, whom no weapon pierced or clove, but in his breast stood fix'd the fatal bough of mistletoe, which lok, _the accuser, gave to hoder_, and the unwitting hoder threw; 'gainst that alone had baldr's life no charm." "thus infendiyar, in the persian epic, cannot be wounded by any weapon.... _all these are fragments of solar myths_." one hardly likes to disturb such illusions. solar myths! well, allow me at least to repeat the history which seems to me so very like this myth. many centuries ago, in a beautiful garden which a concurrence of tradition places somewhere in central asia, a man, the first man of our race, framed according to the "divine prototype," dwelt beloved by the whole world. god and the angels, and the whole of nature--all that grows and lives, were agreed that nothing should do him harm. one fruit or growth alone--the mistletoe it may have been--something that does not grow on the earth, but on trees, was excepted; and it was told to this man, whose name was--but we will not anticipate--that on the day on which he touched this fruit he should die the death. it so came about that the accuser, whom some call the serpent, had previously handed it to his companion, and his unwitting companion gave it to him. he took it, and he died. against that fatal bough his life had no charm. no weapon pierced or clove him; for baldr--i should say adam--was invulnerable, as was achilles and meleager, except in one single respect. i believe that instances might be indefinitely multiplied. i shall content myself, however, with the following, which i think will be generally considered among the happiest illustrations of nature worship.[ ] [ ] granting the tendency to nature-worship, i conclude that the conspicuous luminaries of the heavens would become primary objects of such worship. in amusing illustration of this i remember a friend of mine telling me that he happened to ask a young lad, the son of one of his tenants, who had just returned from a voyage to the northern seas, how he liked his captain? he said, "oh, he was an _awful_ man--he swore by the _sun, moon_, and _stars_." still less do i deny the tendency to sun-worship. it was, as gibbon tells us (ii. , iii. ), the last superstition constantine abandoned before his conversion, and the first to which julian betook himself after his apostacy. it may, moreover, be urged, that the sun figures in all these legends. i say, on the other hand, so also does the _serpent_. this serpent may be the serpent "of _darkness_," and still be the serpent of _tradition_, but how darkness or night is aptly personified by a serpent i am at a loss to perceive. then again the sun _may_ always be only the symbol of what is bright and heavenly. but when (max müller, ii. ) we see this serpent zohak, called by the persians "by the name of dehak, _i.e., ten evils_, because he introduced "_ten evils into the world_," we cannot help recalling the profane expressions attributed to the devil when he saw the ten commandments--proscribing the _ten_ evils in question. "and as it is with this sad and beautiful tale of orpheus and euridike (euridice). [the story of euridice was this--'euridice was bitten by _a serpent_, she dies, and descends into the lower regions. orpheus follows her, and obtains from the gods that his wife should follow him if he promised not to look back, &c.' it reads to me like a sad reminiscence of adam and eve.] mr max müller proceeds--'so it is with all those which may seem to you coarse, or dull, or ugly. they are so only because the real meaning of the names has been half-forgotten or wholly lost. oedipus and perseus (_vide_ appendix), we are told, killed their parents, but it was only because the sun was said to kill the darkness from which it seemed to spring.'"[ ] [ ] mr max müller may perhaps lay stress upon the circumstance that baldr dies at the winter solstice. but this equally bears out the tradition noticed by lenormant, that immediately after the fall, there came upon the world a great cold. (_vide supra_, ch. vii.) but why is darkness called the parent of the sun, and not rather light the parent of darkness? and why not a contrary legend founded on this surmise? is it merely accidental that the metaphor is not reversed? compare the above speculation of mr max müller's with the following passage from gainet, "hist. de l'ancien. nouv. test.," i.; "les souvenirs du genre humain," p. :-- "chaos was placed at the commencement of all things in the phoenician cosmogony (euseb. præp. evan. l. i.), as in that of hesiod (theog., p. ). the latter calls upon the muses to tell him what were the beings that appeared first in existence, and he replies--'at the commencement of all things was chaos, and from chaos was born erebus and dark night.' "thus, in the order of existence, as in the order of time, there is a concurrence of profane tradition to place night before day. this is the reason why the scandinavians, the gauls, the germans, the kalmucks, the numidians, the egyptians, and athenians, according to varro and macrobius, count their days, commencing with sunset and not with sunrise." curiously enough, in another chapter on a different subject, mr max müller enables me to clinch this argument against himself. in an article on the "norsemen in iceland," he says--in proof of the genuineness of the edda--"there are passages in the edda which sound like verses from the veda." but what are these verses from the ends of the earth which are identical? let us listen-- "'twas the _morning_ of _time_ when yet _naught was_, nor sand nor sea were there, nor cooling streams; earth was not formed, nor _heaven_ above; a yawning gap there was, and grass nowhere."[ ] [ ] from the "elder edda." (quoted from dr dasent's "norsemen in iceland." oxford essays, .) under these conditions, i think it will be conceded that there was also darkness--and therefore, that the tradition of the precedence of chaos and darkness is confirmed. "a hymn," continues mr max müller, "of the veda begins in a very similar way-- "nor aught, nor naught existed; yon _bright sky was not_, nor heaven's broad roof outstretch'd above, what cover'd all? what shelter'd? what conceal'd? was it the waters' fathomless abyss?" &c. mr max müller adds, "there are several mythological expressions common to _the edda_ and _homer_. in the edda, man is said to have been created out of an _ash tree_. in hesiod, zeus created the third race of men out of _ash_ trees, and that this tradition was not unknown to homer we learn from penelope's address to ulysses--"tell me thy family from whence thou art: for thou art not sprung from the olden trees, or from the rocks" (max müller, ii. ). the tradition about the ash tree in hesiod, homer, and the edda,[ ] is curious but inexplicable: the general drift of the tradition may be determined by the recollection of two facts--that man was created, and that a tree was inseparably connected with his history from its earliest commencement. but i have quoted the passage more especially with reference to its confirmation of the extract from gainet, which attests the wide-spread tradition--so exactly in accordance with the cosmogony of scripture--that chaos was at the commencement of all things, and that darkness existed before light.[ ] i conclude by asking why this should be? when we are in the midst of solar and astral systems and legends, it seems natural that a theory of cosmogony should commence with light rather than darkness--at least, as well that it should commence with light as with darkness. but no, the universal tradition seems against it. much more strange is this if we connect the solar and astral legends with any system of sabaism. these considerations make it plain to me that the solar and astral legends embodied anterior traditions. [ ] what is still more remarkable, the same tradition is found in the "popol vul" (mexican traditions), and as it is there given, fits in still more exactly with the solution i have suggested. it is there said that the _first race_ of men were created "_out the earth_," the third out "_of a tree_ called tzité."[b] _if_ the "popol vul" came under christian or european influences in the th century, it would have been more likely to have been brought into harmony with the bible, rather than with either homer, hesiod, or the edda. let us pursue the myth a little further. mr w. k. kelly, "indo-europ. tradition and folklore" (_vide_ max müller, ii. ) says, "this healing virtue, which the mistletoe shares with the _ash_, is a long descended tradition, for the kushtha ... a healing plant, was one that grew beneath the _heavenly asvattha_," which is elsewhere called "the imperishable asvattha or peepul (_ficus religiosus_), out of which the immortals shaped the heaven and the earth," which legend mr kelly further traces in the german yggdrasil (although mr max müller from his own point of view dissents); at the foot of which tree (p. ) "lies the serpent nidhöggr, and gnaws its roots." neither mr max müller nor mr kelly discuss the point with reference to the view suggested above. [b] _tiki_ was the great progenitor among new zealanders.--_shortland_, p. . [ ] gen. i. , "in the beginning god created heaven and earth. . and the earth was void and empty, and _darkness was_ upon the face _of the deep_; and the spirit of god moved over the waters. . and he called the light day and the darkness night; and there was _evening_ and morning one day." in addition to the instances adduced by gainet, it will be remembered that the jewish sabbath was from evening to evening, and with us the astronomical day commences at noon, and the commencement and termination of the civil day at mean midnight. in the _second_ [chinese] dynasty the day commenced at mid-day. wei-wang, the founder of the _third_ dynasty, fixed it at midnight." (bunsen's "egypt," vol. iii. p. .) in the phoenician cosmogony "the beginning of all was a dark and stormy atmosphere," "thick, unfathomable black chaos." (_vide_ bunsen's "egypt," iv. .) the new zealanders have preserved the tradition with still greater distinctness. "in the _beginning of time_ was te po (the night or darkness). in the generations that followed te po came te ao (the light)" &c., &c. (_vide_ shortland's "traditions of the new zealanders," p. .) _vide_ gladstone, "homer," ii. ; cox, "mythology of aryan nations," i. , on the relation of phoibos to leto. "this is precisely the relation in which the _mythical night_ stood to the day which was to be born of _her_." _vide_ on this point wilkinson's "ancient egyptians" (i. chap. xiii.) "the mygale," says champollion, "received divine honours by the egyptians, because it is blind, and _darkness is more ancient than light_." the arabs have the expression "_night and day_" (_vide_ wilkinson). aristotle says "the theologians consider all things to have been born of night." the orphean fragments call "night the genesis of all things.... the anglo-saxons also, like the eastern nations, began their computations of time from night, and the years from that day corresponding with our christmas, which they called "mother night," and the otaheitans refer the existence of their principal deities to a state of darkness, which they consider the origin of all things." (_vide_ gen. i. , ; _id._ p. - .) i think mr max müller will at least recognise them as spots on the disk of his solar theory, and which must ever remain obscure to those who refuse the light of scripture and tradition. appendix to chapter viii. "oedipus, perseus." here again, the explanation of mr max müller, "si non vrai est vraisemblable," and yet i cannot help seeing that the legends of perseus and [oe]dipus may just as well be supposed to embody primitive tradition. let us read the histories of oedipus and perseus in the light of the tradition concerning lamech (gen. iv. , ). "and lamech said to his wives, adah and zillah ... i have slain a man to the wounding of myself, and a stripling to my own bruising. sevenfold vengeance shall be taken for cain, but for lamech seventy times sevenfold." the note to the douay edition says--"it is the tradition of the hebrews that lamech, in hunting, slew cain, mistaking him for a wild beast, and that having discovered what he had done, he beat so unmercifully the youth by whom he was led into that mistake that he died of the blows." oedipus was the son of laius, who had supplanted his brother. oedipus was exposed to destruction as soon as born, because his father had been warned that he must perish by the hand of his son,--but was rescued and brought up by shepherds. hearing from the oracle of delphi (the tradition is of course localised), that if he returned home he must necessarily be the murderer of his father, he avoided the house of polybus, the only home he knew of, and travelled towards phocis (from west to east by the by). (comp. with _infra_, p. .) he met laius, his father, in a narrow road. laius haughtily ordered oedipus to make way for him, which provoked an encounter, in which laius and his armour-bearer were slain. other circumstances, either separate traditions of the same event, or distinct legends, are no doubt mixed up in the narration, but still four facts remain as a residuum available for the comparison. oedipus was the son, as lamech was the grandson, of one who supplanted his brother, both kill their respective progenitors, and in the _casual_ encounter in which in both instances the tragedy occurred, _two_ persons were slain. in this there is a fair outline of resemblance. in the legend of perseus, certainly the legend is more indistinct, et, in one point, that he inadvertently killed his _grandfather_, the coincidence is perfect. and it must be borne in mind that it is not a question of absolute but of comparative resemblance--in fact, a choice between a mythical or an historical, an astral or a scriptural solution, and when you come to degrees of relationship, the astral or solar explanation becomes more attenuated at each remove,--"the father of the sun" may be metaphorically intelligible, but the grandfather of the sun! i see further trace of the tradition of lamech in the phrygian legend of adrastus, somewhat confused in the tradition of cain, and in some points reversed. adrastus, the son of the phrygian king, had _inadvertently killed_ his brother, and was in consequence expelled by his father and deprived of everything. whilst an exile at the court of croesus, he was sent out with prince atys as guardian to deliver the country from a wild boar. adrastus had the misfortune to kill prince atys while aiming at the wild beast. croesus pardoned the unfortunate man, as he saw in this accident the will of the gods, and _the fulfilment of a prophecy_, but adrastus killed himself on the tomb of atys (herod. i. ; smith, "myth. dict.") now let us take up the proof at another point. will any one refuse to see in the following tale from the "gesta romanorum,"[ ] at least a mediæval corruption of the legend of oedipus:--"a certain soldier, called julian, unwittingly killed his parents. for being of noble blood, and addicted as a youth frequently is to the sports of the field, a stag which he hotly pursued suddenly turned round and addressed him--'thou who pursuest me thus fiercely shall be the destruction of thy parents.' these words greatly alarmed julian.... leaving, therefore, his amusement, he went privately into a distant country ... where he marries. it chances that his parents come into that country, and in his absence were received kindly by his wife, who, 'in consideration of the love she bore her husband, put them into her own bed, and commanded another to be prepared elsewhere for herself.' in the meantime, julian returning abruptly home and discovering strangers in his bed, in a fit of passion slays them. when he discovers the parricidal crime he exclaims--'this accursed hand has murdered my parents and fulfilled the horrible prediction which i have struggled to avoid.'" [ ] "gesta romanorum," tale xviii. swan. rivingtons . now, i submit that this is not a greater distortion of the classical stories of oedipus, adrastus, &c., than are the classical legends of the biblical traditions of cain and lamech. for further trace read bunsen, iv. , also, , . mr cox ("mythology of aryan nations") says:--"_the names theseus_, _perseus_, _oidipous, had all been mere epithets_ of one and the same being; but when they ceased to be mere appellatives, these creations of mythical speech were regarded not only as different persons, but as beings in no way connected with each other.... nay, the legends inter-change the method by which the parents seek the death of their children; for there were tales which narrated that oidipous was shut up in an ark which was washed ashore at sikyon," p. . sicyon was the oldest greek city. compare p. of this ch., and ch. on deluge. this was merely the traditional record that the tradition was preserved in the ark, and subsequently emanated from sicyon. ii. prometheus and hercules or herakles. i have elsewhere (p. ) alluded to the confusion of prometheus, as the creator of man, with prometheus, the first man created. but the most curious instance of reduplication is the further confusion of what i may call the human prometheus, with his deliverer hercules,--hercules and prometheus both in different ways embodying traditions of adam! prometheus is the adam[ ] of paradise and the fall, hercules is adam the outcast from paradise, with his skin and club sent forth on his long labours and marches through the world. but how can hercules, who frees prometheus from the rock, be the same as prometheus who is bound to the rock? if, however, we are entitled to hope that adam in the labour of his long exile worked off the sentence and expiated the guilt on account of which adam, the culprit, was sentenced, may we not accept this as an adequate explanation? is it a forced figure that he should be said to unbind him from the rock, to drive off the vulture which preys upon him, and thus finally liberate him? [ ] on this point, that prometheus is adam, _vide_ m. nicolas' "etudes philos. sur le christ.," . ii. ch. v. ( th edit.) this disjunction of adam and separate personification in the two periods of his life, _before_ and _after_ the fall, will accord well enough with the addition in some legends of a brother epimetheus, and i submit that this explanation is as good as that (_vide_ smith's "myth. dict.") which regards the legend as purely allegorical, and _pro_metheus and _epi_metheus as signifying "forethought" and "afterthought." the travels of hercules, it must be confessed, as traditionally recorded, are somewhat eccentric. but are they explicable on any solar theory? he begins by travelling from _west_ to east; he then proceeds _south_, and although he traverses africa westward, he diverges abruptly to the _north_, from which he proceeds south, and ends as he began by travelling from _west_ to east. all this, however, is perfectly explicable if we are prepared to admit bryant's ("mythology," ii. ) historical surmises, and to go along with him so far as to believe that the tradition was mainly preserved through cuthite or _chus_ite channels. we can, then, see a probability in the conjecture that the descendants of chus, in preserving the tradition of the travels of hercules (herakles), superadded or substituted the scenes and incidents of their own wanderings, after they had settled down in the place of their final location. chapter ix. _assyrian mythology._ "but surely there is nothing improbable in the supposition, that in the poems of homer such vestiges may be found. every recorded form of society bears some traces of those by which it has been preceded, and in that highly primitive form, which homer has been the instrument of embalming for all posterity, the law of general reason obliges us to search for elements and vestiges more primitive still.... the general proposition that we may expect to find the relics of scriptural traditions in the heroic age of greece, though it leads, if proved, to important practical results, is independent even of a belief in those traditions, as they stand in the scheme of revealed truth. they must be admitted to have been facts on earth, even by those who would deny them to have been facts of heavenly origin, in the shape in which christendom receives them; and the question immediately before us is one of pure historical probability. the descent of mankind from a single pair, the lapse of that pair from original righteousness, are apart from and ulterior to it. we have traced the greek nation to a source, and along a path of migration which must in all likelihood have placed its ancestry, at some point or points, in close local relations with the scenes of the earliest mosaic records: the retentiveness of that people equalled its receptiveness, and its close and fond association with the past, made it prone indeed to incorporate novel matter into its religion, but prone also to keep it there after its incorporation. "if such traditions existed, and if the laws which guide historical inquiry require or lead us to suppose that the forefathers of the greeks must have lived within their circle, then the burden of proof must lie not so properly with those who assert that the traces of them are to be found in the earliest, that is, the homeric form of the greek mythology, as with those who deny it. what became of those old traditions? they must have decayed and disappeared, not by a sudden process, but by a gradual accumulation of the corrupt accretions, in which at length they were so completely interred as to be invisible and inaccessible. some period, therefore, there must have been at which they would remain clearly perceptible, though in conjunction with much corrupt matter. such a period might be made the subject of record, and if such there were, we might naturally expect to find it in the oldest known work of the ancient literature. "if the poems of homer do, however, contain a picture, even though a defaced picture, of the primeval religious traditions, it is obvious that they afford a most valuable collateral support to the credit of the holy scripture, considered as a document of history. still we must not allow the desire of gaining this advantage to bias the mind in an inquiry, which can only be of value if it is conducted according to the strictest rules of rational criticism."--_gladstone on tradition in "homer and the homeric age_," vol. ii. sect. i. having laid, as i think, in what has been premised in the last chapter, grounds for a presumption that primitive traditions may be shrouded in the ancient mythology, i proceed to seek traditions of the patriarch noah among the inscriptions and monuments of the chaldæans; for then we shall find ourselves in a period when the results of modern archæological science are in contact with the events and incidents of primitive patriarchal life recorded in scripture; and, in seeking them where we shall best find them, in the able and discriminating pages of rawlinson, we shall at least feel that we are treading on safe and solid ground. the deities in the chaldæan pantheon are thus enumerated by professor rawlinson-- "the grouping of the principal chaldæan deities is as follows:--at the head of the pantheon stands a god il or ra, of whom little is known. next to him is a triad, ana, bil or belus, and hea or hoa, who correspond closely to the classical pluto, jupiter, and neptune. each of these is accompanied by a female principle or wife.... then follows a further triad, consisting of sin or hurki the moon-god, san or sanci the sun, and vul (or yem, or ao, or in, or ina, according to various readings of the hieroglyphics) the god of the atmosphere (again accompanied by female powers or wives).... next in order to them we find a group of five minor deities, the representatives of the five planets, nin or ninip (saturn), merodach (jupiter), nergal (mars), ishtar (venus), and nebo (mercury). [the bracket indications are rawlinson's.]... these principal deities do not appear to have been connected like the egyptian and classical divinities into a single genealogical scheme" (i. ). in a note at p. it is said, "these schemes themselves were probably not genealogical at first ... but after a while given to separate and independent deities, recognised in different places by distinct communities, or even by distinct races" (_vide_ bunsen's "egypt," iv. ; english tran.) now to this opinion i venture unreservedly to adhere, and i connect it with the statement (_id._ i. ), that "chaldæa in the earliest times to which we can go back, seems to have been inhabited by four principal tribes. the early kings are continually represented in the monuments as sovereigns over the kiprat-arbat, or 'four races' (_vide supra_, p. ). these 'four races' are sometimes called the arba lisun or 'four tongues,' whence we may conclude that they were distinguished from one another, among other differences, by a variety in their forms of speech ... an examination of the written remains has furnished reasons for believing that the differences were great and marked; the languages, in fact, belonging to the four great varieties of human speech, the hamitic, semitic, aryan, and turanian." compare pp. , . if it is allowed that there may have been mythological systems corresponding to these divers nationalities, we may fairly conclude that the deities above enumerated may not necessarily have been different deities, but the same deities viewed in different lights, or included in duplicate in the way of incorporation, or in recognition of subordinate nationalities. if, therefore, i find the representation of noah in any one of these deities, is there not a _prima facie_ probability that i shall find the reduplication of him in others? i consider, at least, that i shall have warrant for thus collecting the scattered traditions concerning the patriarch who stands at the head of the second propagation of our race. but first as to the god il or ra-- il or ra. the form _ra_ represents, probably, the native chaldæan name of this deity, while _il_ is the semitic equivalent. _il_, of course, is but a variant of _el_, the root of the well-known biblical _elohim_, as well as of the arabic allah. it is this name which diodorus represents under the form of _elus_, and sanchoniathon, or rather philo biblius, under that of elus, or _ilus_. the meaning of the word is simply "god," or perhaps "the god" emphatically. _ra_, the cushite equivalent, must be considered to have had the same force originally, though in egypt it received a special application to the sun, and became the proper name of that particular deity. the word is lost in the modern ethiopic. it formed an element in the native name of babylon, which was _ka-ra_, the cushite equivalent of the semitic _bab-il_, an expression signifying "the gate of god." ra is a god with few peculiar attributes. he is a sort of fount and origin of deity, too remote from man to be much worshipped, or to excite any warm interest. there is no evidence of his having had any temple in chaldæa during the early times. a belief in his existence is implied rather than expressed in inscriptions of the primitive kings, where the moon-god is said to be "brother's son of ana, and eldest son of bil or belus." we gather from this, that bel and ana were considered to have a common father, and later documents sufficiently indicate that that common father was il or ra."--_rawlinson_, i. p. . if in the il or ra of the chaldæans the primitive monotheism is not revealed, i do not see how it can be discerned in the zeus of the greeks. we have the same god in the same relation in the scandinavian, or at any rate in the lapland mythology. leems ("account of danish lapland," pinkerton, i. ) says--"of the gods inhabiting the starry mansions the _greatest is radien_, yet it is uncertain whether he is over every part of the sidereal sky, or whether he governs only some part of it. be this as it may, i shall be bold to affirm that the laplanders never comprehended, under the name of this false god, the true god; _which is obvious from this_, that some have not scrupled to put the image or likeness of the true god by the side of their radien, on runic boxes."[ ] if, however, of their gods "the greatest was radien," they would not have placed the true god by his side until they had become acquainted with the true god, or until they had come to commingle christianity and paganism; but then would they not have placed "ra" by the side of the true god as his counterpart? i am assuming that "radien" means simply the god ra, as i suppose mr max müller would recognise "dien" as cognate to "dyaus" ... "dieu." [ ] in like manner, the peruvians recognised "pachacamac" (_vide infra_, p. ), in the description which the spaniards gave of the true god; and in so far as they had retained the monotheistic belief, this was true. garcilasso de la vega, a most competent witness who testifies to this, adds--"if any one shall now ask me, who am a catholic christian indian, by the infinite mercy, what name was given to god in my language, i should say pachacamac."--hakluyt society, ed. of garcil. de la vega, i. . yet it has been opposed, _in limine_, to m. l'abbe gainet's valuable chapter on the "monotheisme des peuples primitifs," "that he does not meet the specific assertions of historians such as rawlinson, who finds idolatry prevalent among the chaldæans on their first appearance on the stage of history." i must submit, however, that although the discovery of idolatry at this early period may appear to disturb the particular theory, yet on closer examination it will be found to sustain l'abbe gainet's argument, on the whole, by sustaining the truth of tradition upon which his main argument reposes; for the idolatry which we find is intimately bound up with the worship of belus, identified with nimrod, whose rebellion against the lord has always been in tradition, and is according to the more accepted interpretation of the sacred text. the discovery of idolatry, therefore, under the particular circumstances, is exactly what we should expect, and affords a remarkable confirmation of the fidelity of tradition. moreover, there are chaldæans and chaldæans, as we have just seen in rawlinson (_sup._ p. ), and as will be made more evident in the following passage from gainet's "monotheisme," &c. "it is sufficiently agreed, says lebatteux (mem. acad. t. xxvii. p. ), that the babylonians recognised a supreme being, the father and lord of all (diod. sic. l. ii.) st justin cohortat. ad gent. eusebi. prep. evan., l. iii. porphyry (life of pythagoras) cites an oracle of zoroaster, in which the chaldæans are coupled in encomium with the hebrews for the sanctity of the worship which they paid to the eternal king. these are the words of the oracles--the chaldeans alone with the hebrews have wisdom for their share, rendering a pure worship to god, who is the eternal king."--_gainet_, iii. . the pure monotheism here alluded to may have been preserved in chaldæan families of semitic origin, but the extract i have just given from rawlinson seems to prove that the knowledge was preserved also, dimly and obscurely, among the predominant chaldæans of hamitic descent. this will be more apparent from the monotheistic epithets attached to the three next deities. ana. "ana is the head of the first triad which follows immediately after the obscure god ra." "ana, like il and ra, is thought to have been a word originally signifying god in the highest sense." "he corresponds in many respects to the classical hades, who, like him, heads[ ] the triad to which he belongs." in so far he is undistinguishable from il or ra, and may only transmit the monotheistic tradition through a different channel. but ana has human epithets applied to him very suggestive of hero-worship. "his epithets are chiefly such as mark priority and antiquity." "he is the old ana," "the original chief," "the father of the gods" [_inter alia_, of bil nipru, _i.e._ nimrod]. he is also called--which imports another association of ideas--"the lord of spirits and demons," "the king of the lower world,"[ ] "the lord of darkness or death," "the ruler of the far-off city." [ ] "this is not a mere arbitrary supposition, for it is expressly said in holy writ, that the first man, ordained to be 'the father of the whole earth' (as he is then called), became, on his reconciliation with his maker, the wisest of all men, and, according to tradition, the greatest of prophets, who in his far-reaching ken, _foresaw the destinies of all mankind_ in all successive ages down to the end of the world. all this must be taken in a strict historical sense, for the moral interpretation we abandon to others. the pre-eminence of the sethites chosen by god, and entirely devoted to his service, must be received as an undoubted historical fact, to which we find many pointed allusions even in the traditions of the other asiatic nations. nay, the hostility between the sethites and cainites, and the mutual relations of these two races, form the chief clue to the history of the primitive world, and even of many particular nations of antiquity."--_fred. von schlegel's "philosophy of hist.," robertson's trans._, p. . [ ] compare these epithets, and what was said above, of resemblance "to classical hades," with the following verses from the "oracula sybillina," lib. i. -- "orcus eos cepit græco qui nomine dictus est _ades_, quod primus eo descenderit _adam_, expertus mortis legem," &c. setting aside such titles as belong exclusively to the deity, but assuming hero-worship--supposing man deified--who more appropriately placed in these primitive times at the head of the list, than their original progenitor adam.[ ] to whom would these titles, "the old ana,"[ ] "the original chief," "the lord of darkness and death," he who introduced death into the world, more exactly apply? rawlinson also says--"his position is well marked by damascius, who gives the three gods anus, illinus, and aüs, as _next in succession to the primeval pair_, assorus and missara," i. . now, it will not be contested, i think, that assorus is the same as alorus, the first of the ten antediluvian (deluge of xisuthrus) assyrian kings enumerated by berosus, and which correspond to the ten antediluvian patriarchs. consequently assorus = alorus = adam.[ ] [ ] osiris also is "the judge of the soul, or the god of the world of spirits." "osiris is never represented in an animal form, but is called the bull" (_infra_ pp. , ), _vide_ bunsen's "egypt," iv. . bunsen's own view is, that "the history of osiris is the history of the cycle of the year, of the sun dying away and resuscitating himself again." mr palmer ("egyptian chronicles," i. p. ) says--(and i think it as well that i should state that i had come to an almost identical conclusion, and had written this and the following chapter before i became acquainted with mr palmer's profound and yet still neglected work, _vide_ ch. vi.)--"the first human ('osiris = adam and isis = eve') having been thrown back into pairs of anthropomorphous deities (p. ), the original osiris and isis, formed by the divine potter as parents of all, disappear in name, and are represented by seb and nutpe, while osiris, typhon, and horus, the progeny of seb and nutpe, answers rather to cain, abel, and seth, in the old world, and to the three sons of noah in the new.... from osiris-seb (whether he be viewed as adam or noah) are derived downwards all the successive generations of egyptian, gods and demigods, patriarchs, kings, and other men" [and for a parallel exposition of the phoenician myth, _vide_ palmer, p. and seq., "each dynast in turn, in the early generations, being identifiable at once with seb and osiris, as father of those following, with osiris again by sharing the same mortality, and with horus as renewing his father's life and being the hope of the coming world. _so each ancestor in turn went_, it was said, _to the original osiris as patriarch of the dead_, and to his intermediate osirified fathers, and was himself osirified like them, all making one collective osiris." [i have not space to discuss the question at what stage the mythology became pantheistic.] "waiting for that reunion and restoration which was to come through successive generations by the great expected horus, who was to take up into himself the old, and to be himself the new osiris." [ ] in a note to cardinal wiseman's "science and revealed religion" on conformity between semitic and indo-europ. grammatical forms, it will be seen that _ana_ in chaldaic is the pronoun of the first person singular, and corresponds with the revealed appellation of the deity, "i am who am" (exod. iii. ) = the [greek: tò egô]. [ ] max müller, chips i. , refers to dr windischmann's ("zoroastrian studies") discovery that there are ten generations between adam and noah, as there are ten generations in the zendavesta between yima (adam) and thrâstouna (noah), and without controverting the point. mr palmer ("egypt. chron.," i. ) says--"and though the fancy of making the ten kings to begin only after years, and to be not all named from the same city, seems to distinguish them from adam and the nine patriarchs his descendants, still xisuthrus, the tenth, being clearly identified with noah, by the flood and the ark, the very number ten, and the relation of the succession in which they stand one to the other, show that alorus, the first of them, is no other than adam." here, then, we have a reduplication, or else what i have above referred to, the tendency to place the head of the dynasty at the top of the list superior to gods and men. in any case, granting this juxtaposition, would there not have been the proximate risk and probability of the two running into one another and becoming confounded, on the supposition that ana and alorus were not originally identical? this will become more evident when we have considered the next in the triad-- bil or enu. but the evidence, though it will more clearly establish the fact of hero-worship, will perhaps raise a doubt whether we have rightly regarded adam as the object of hero-worship in ana, a point which we will then consider. rawlinson says of this god--"he is the illinus (il-enu) of damascius." "his name, which seems to mean merely lord" (again the primitive monotheistic appellation) "is usually followed by a qualificative adjunct possessing great interest. it is proposed to read this term as nipru, or in the feminine niprut, a word which cannot fail to recall the scriptural nimrod, who is in the septuagint nebroth. the term _nipru_ seems to be formed from the root _napar_, which is the syriac "to pursue," to "make to flee," and which has in assyrian nearly the same meaning. thus bil nipru would be aptly translated as "the hunter lord" or the "god presiding over the chase," while at the same time it might combine the meaning of the "conquering lord" or "the great conqueror." here, at any rate, it must be admitted that "we have, in this instance, an admixture of hero-worship in the chaldæan religion" (rawlinson, i. ). but if in one instance what _à priori_ reason is there that it should not be so in others? let us, then, examine further. the name of this deity, as bel nipru or nimrod, has, i consider, been completely traced in the pages of rawlinson (to which i must refer my readers). but what are we to say about the alternative name of enu? and why, although no great stress can be laid upon the location of a deity in a genealogy or a system, yet why is nimrod thus placed intermediate between adam and the third of the triad hoa, whom, on grounds quite irrespective of the similarity of name, i identify with noah?[ ] [ ] gainet (i. ) quotes as follows from "ceremonies relig." i. vii.: "the mandans pretend that the deluge was caused by the white men to destroy their ancestors. the whites caused the waters to rise to such a height that the world was submerged. then _the first man, whom they regard as one of their divinities, inspired mankind with the idea of constructing, upon an eminence, a tower and fortress of wood_, and _promised them that the water should not rise beyond this point_." here seems a very analogous confused tradition of adam and nimrod, the deluge and the tower of babel. comp. with the distinct testimony to the mandan tradition, _infra_, ch. xi. if ana is adam, and hoa noah, why should not enu, in another point of view, be enoch? there is, i admit, an absence of direct evidence, but i think i discover a link of connection in a note in rawlinson (i. p. ). "arab writers record a number of remarkable traditions, in which he (nimrod) plays a conspicuous part." "yacut declares that nimrod attempted to mount to heaven on the wings of an eagle, and makes niffers (calneh) the scene of this occurrence (lex. geograph. in voc. niffer). it is supposed that we have here an allusion to the building of the tower of babel." but i cannot help regarding it as much more certainly like an allusion to enoch's disappearance from the earth. at p. , prof. rawlinson notices the confusion of xisuthrus with enoch, which proves that the tradition of enoch was amongst them, and would have been common also to the hamitic arabs.[ ] [ ] i find that the egyptians had the same confused tradition respecting menes, who stood to them in the same relation as nimrod to the assyrians (_vide_ bunsen's egypt, ii. p. ). "the statement in manetho's lists that menes was torn to pieces by a hippopotamus, is probably an exaggeration of an early legend, that he was carried away by a hippopotamus, one of the symbols of the god of the lower world. the great ruler was snatched away from the earth, to distinguish him from other mortals, just as romulus was." i will now return to my doubt as to ana. for although i feel tolerably certain that ana in his human attributes represents one or other of the antediluvian patriarchs, it may well be that he is only a reduplication of enu = enoch. if we are to seek in the translation of enoch the clue to the origin of the deification of man, and its commencement in the person of nimrod (_vide supra_, p. ), it is likely, in the legend of the apotheosis of nimrod, that all the analogies should have been sought for in the striking historical event which was in tradition. there is, moreover, the analogy of name with annacus, hannachus = enoch.[ ] if he is enoch, he naturally also falls into his place as second to assorus. [ ] "etienne de byzance dit qu'à 'icone' ('de urbibus' voce 'iconium') ville de lycaonie près du mont taurus dans les régions occupées par les habitants antediluviens regnait annacus dont la vie alla au-déla de trois cents ans. tous les habitants d'alentour demandèrent à un oracle jusqu'à quelle époque se prolongerait sa vie. l'oracle répondit que ce patriarche étant mort, tout le monde devait s'attendre à périr. les phrygiens à cette ménace jetèrent les hauts cris, d'où est venu le proverbe: 'pleurer sous annacus, ce que l'on dit de ceux qui se livrent à des grands gémissements. or le déluge étant survénu tous périrent.... dans ces récits tout est conformé à la bible. annacus a vécu trois cents ans avant le déluge. il a averti ses concitoyens: il est entouré du même respect que le patriarche noë lui-même. annacus parait venir d'enoch; tout announce une identité de personnages." (gainet, hist. de l'anc. et nouv. test. i. , .) the connection between the death of enoch and the destruction of mankind may accord as well with the traditional belief in his reappearance at the end of the world. compare the grecian tradition of inachus, son of oceanus (_vide_ bryant, ii. ), and with it, hor., od. , lib. ii.: "divesne, prisco et natus ab inacho, nil interest, an pauper, et infimâ de gente," &c. i retain, however, my original opinion, that ana is adam (though possibly with some confusion with enoch), in addition to the arguments already urged, upon the following grounds:-- rawlinson mentions (i. ) "telane," or the "_mound_ of ana," distinct from kalneh or "kalana." we know that there has been a constant tradition that the bones of adam were preserved in the ark, and this name of the "mound of ana" may be connected with it. if so, it will also account for ana (dis = orcus) being the patron deity of erech, "the great city of the dead, the necropolis of lower babylonia" (rawlinson i. ). the son of ana is vul. if vul could be identified with vulcan, and vulcan with tubalcain, it would go far to decide the point that ana was adam. but in the matter of etymology, i do not know that we can advance beyond the quaint phrase of old sir walter raleigh in his "history of the world," that "there is a certain likelihood of name between tubalcain and vulcan." i rely more upon the wide-spread tradition of tubalcain in the legends of dædalus, vulcan, weland, galant, wielant, wayland smith, which approaches very nearly an identification. _vide_ wilson's "archæologia of scotland," p. . compare the phoenician tradition, bunsen's "egypt," iv. , . it is to be noted, however, that although ana (_vide_ rawlinson) "like adam had several sons, he had only two of any celebrity" (we can suppose that abel had died out of the cainite tradition), "vul and another whose name represents 'darkness' or '_the west_,'" which might well be the view of seth from a cainite point of view (and it is traditional that the cainite lore was preserved by cham in the ark). now it is remarkable that the scripture (gen. iv.) expressly says that cain dwelt on the _east_ side of eden. i now come to hea or hoa. "the third god of the first triad was hea or hoa, the ana of damascius. this appellation is perhaps best rendered into greek by the [greek: Ôê] of helladius, the name given to the mystic animal, half man half fish, which came up from the persian gulf to teach astronomy and letters to the first settlers on the euphrates and tigris. it is perhaps contained in the word by which berosus designates this same creature--oannes ([greek: Ôánnês]), which may be explained as hoa-ana, or the god hoa. there are no means of strictly determining the precise meaning of the word in babylonian, but it is perhaps allowable to connect it provisionally with the arabic hiya, which is at once life and 'a serpent,' since, according to the best authority, 'there are very strong grounds for connecting hea or hoa with the serpent of scripture, and the paradisaical traditions of the tree of knowledge and the tree of life.' "hoa occupies in the first triad the position which in the classical mythology is filled by poseidon or neptune, and in some respects he corresponds to him. he is 'the lord of the earth,' just as neptune is [greek: gaiêochos]; he is the 'king of rivers,' and he comes from the sea to teach the babylonians, but he is never called the 'lord of the sea.' that title belongs to nin or ninip. hoa is the lord of the abyss or of 'the great deep,' which does not seem to be the sea, but something distinct from it. his most important titles are those which invest him with the character so prominently brought out in oë and oannes, of the god of science and knowledge. he is 'the intelligent guide,' or, according to another interpretation, 'the intelligent fish,' 'the teacher of mankind,' 'the lord of understanding.' one of his emblems is the 'wedge' or 'arrow-head,' the essential element of cuneiform writing, which seems to be assigned to him as the inventor, or at least the patron, of the chaldæan alphabet. another is the serpent, which occupies so conspicuous a place among the symbols of the gods on the black stones recording benefactions, and which sometimes appears upon the cylinders. this symbol here, as elsewhere, is emblematic of superhuman knowledge--a record of the primeval belief that 'the serpent was more subtle than any beast of the field.' the stellar name of hoa was kimmut.... the monuments do not contain much evidence of the early worship of hoa. his name appears on a very ancient stone tablet brought from mugheir (ur), but otherwise his claim to be accounted one of the primeval gods must rest on the testimony of berosus and helladius, who represent him as known to the first settlers.... as kimmut, hoa was also the father of nebo, whose functions bear a general resemblance to his own."--_rawlinson's ancient monarchies_, i. .[ ] [ ] _vide_ his other epithets, _infra_, p. ; also rawlinson (herod. i. p. ), says that "upon one of the tablets in the british museum there is a list of thirty-six synonyms indicating this god (hoa). the greater part of them relate either to "the abyss" or to "knowledge." compare this with the following verses from the "oracula sybillina," i. ver. -- "collige, noë, tuas vires ... ... si scieris me divinæ te nulla rei secreta latebunt." now, without entering into the question of the authenticity of the sybilline verses, i may at least quote them in evidence of the current tradition concerning noah in the second century of the christian era, supposing them to have been forged at that period. i have said that i shall not rely too much on the resemblance of name, hoa; but i must draw attention to the curious resemblance which lurks in the name "aüs" to the words upon which the vicomte d'anselme has founded an argument in the appended note.[ ] [ ] "comment le nom du premier navigateur connu, tel qu'il se prononça en hébreu et qu'il nous est transmis par la génese, 'noh, naus, noach,' serait-il devenu le nom d'une arche flottante, d'un navire, en sanscrit et en vingt autres langues? _nau_, sanscrit; _naw_, armenien; _naus_, grec; (_navis_, latin); _noi_, hibernien; _neau_, bas breton; _nef_, nav. franc; _noobh_, irlandais; _naone_, vanikoro; _nacho_, allemand vieux; _naw_, timor; _nachen_, allemand; _s'nechia_, islandais; _s'naeca_ ou _naca_, anglo-sax.; _s'nace_, ancien anglais; _sin-nau_, cambodge, &c. "enfin nous demandons comment le nom hébreu de l'arche de noë. tobe, prononcé comme on écrivait généralement en orient, en sens inverse, donne le nom d'un vaisseau dans vingt langues qui sont des dialectes du sanscrit? l'écriture boustrophedone, qui fait les lignes alternativement à droite et gauche sans interruption a pu donner naissance à cette manière de lire:--_boat_, anglais; _boite_, français; _bat_, anglo-saxon; _boot_, hollandais; _bat_, suedois, _baat_, danois; _batr_, islandais; _bad_, breton; _bote_, espagnol; _boar_, persan; _batillo_, italien; _pota_, sanscrit." _vide_ other similar proofs from vicomte d'anselme's "monde païen," &c. in gainet, i. , a curious additional instance of the same word having connections with "boat" and arc (_tobe_) might be discovered in kibotos, the name of a mountain in phrygia, where the ark is said to have rested (gainet, i. ). also we have almost the same words--ark and arc--to express (though according to a different etymology) these dissimilar objects. "the words oar and rudder can be traced back to sanskrit, and the name of the ship is identically the same in sanscrit (naus, nâvas), in latin (navis), in greek (naus), and in teutonic, old high germ. (nachs), anglo-saxon (naca)."--max müller, "comp. mythol.," p. . i may draw attention, as having reference to other branches of this inquiry, to a possible affinity with the name of the patriarch, in the term _noaaids_, applied by the laplanders to their magicians (pinkerton, i. , &c.); and to the term koader_nicks_, applied by the samoids to the same (_id._ ). i own there might be danger in pushing the inquiry further, as i might even bring the patriarch noah into contact and connection with old nick! i may also refer to the term "janna" (janus), as applied to the officer "who had the office of entertaining ambassadors" at the court of kenghis khan (_id._ v. , p. ; rubruquis's embassy, a.d. , also ). in the above extract from rawlinson, although hoa is said not to be "the true fish-god," yet he is called "the intelligent fish," and is associated with that mystic animal, half man half fish, which came up from the persian gulf to teach astronomy and letters to the first settlers on euphrates and tigris. let us compare this information with the following "history of the fish," which the abbé gainet, i. , has translated from the mahâbhârata. the same history has been translated from the bhagavad pourana by sir w. jones ("asiatic researches"). indeed, as the abbé gainet argues, as this same history is found in all the religious poems of india, there is a certain security that it would not have been taken from the hebrews. i shall merely attempt to give the drift of the legend from the abbé gainet's original translation of that portion of the matysia pourana which has reference to noah:-- "the son of vaivaswata (the sun) was a king, and a great sage, a prince of men, resembling pradjapati in _eclat_. in his strength, splendour, prosperity, and above all, his penitence, manou surpassed his father and his grandfather.[ ]... one day a small fish approached him, and begged him to remove him from the water where he was, 'because the great fish always eat the little fish--it is our eternal condition.' manou complies, and the fish promises eternal gratitude. after several such migrations, through the intervention of manou, the fish at each removal increasing in bulk, he is at length launched in the ocean. the fish then holds this discourse with manou:--'soon, oh blessed manou, everything that is by nature fixed and stationary in the terrestrial world, will undergo a general immersion and a complete dissolution. this temporary immersion of the world is near at hand, and therefore it is that i announce to you to-day what you ought to do for your safety.' he instructs him to build a strong and solid ship, and to enter it with the _seven_ richis or sages.[ ] he instructs him also to take with him all sorts of seeds, according to certain brahminical indications. 'and when you are in the vessel you will perceive me coming towards you, oh well-beloved of the saints, i will approach you with a _horn_ on my head, by which you will recognise me.' manou did all that was prescribed to him by the fish, and the earth was submerged accordingly, as he had predicted. 'neither the earth, nor the sky, nor the intermediate space, was visible; all was water.' 'in the middle of the world thus submerged, o prince of bharatidians, were seen the seven richis or sages, manou, and the fish. thus, o king, did this fish cause the vessel to sail' (with a rope tied to its horn), 'for many years, without wearying, in this immensity of water.' at length the ship was dragged by the fish on to the highest point of the himalaya. 'that is why the highest summit of the himaran (himalaya) was called _nan_bundhanam, or the place to which the ship was attached, a name which it bears to this day--_sache cela, o prince des bharatidians._' then _le gracieux_, with placid gaze, thus addressed the richis--'i am brahma, the ancestor (_l'ancestre_) of all creatures. no one is greater than i. under the form of a fish i came to save you from the terrors of death. from manou, now, shall all creatures, with the gods, the demons (_au souras_), and mankind, be born.... this is the ancient and celebrated history which bears the name of the 'history of the _fish_.'"[ ] [ ] comp. "traditions of the new zealanders." [ ] do not the seven richis or sages correspond to the seven (or eight) (phoenician) kabiri. (there were seven or eight persons in the ark, accordingly as we take separate account or not of noah.) as regards the kabiri, their number (seven or eight, accordingly as we include "Æsculapius") must be the clue to the solution of "the most obscure and mysterious question in mythology." bunsen ("egypt," iv. ) says of an astral explanation:--"it does not enable us to explain the details of those representations which do not contain the number seven (or eight), and, in fact, seven brothers." it will suffice, from our point of view, if there are numerically seven persons. bunsen (iv. p. ) says--"it is quite clear that the fundamental number of the gods in the oldest mythologies of phoenicia, and all asia, as well as egypt, was seven. there were seven kabiri, with the seven titans. there are also seven titans mentioned in other genealogies of the race of kronos. of the latter, one dies a virgin and disappears." but as with the kabiri we have seen the number seven, or eight, accordingly as Æsculapius is included or not, so (vide p. ) we see the primitive gods of egypt either seven or eight, accordingly as thoth, "the eighth," or horus, figure as the "last divine king" (p. ). when horus so figures, "_he_ is frequently represented as _the eighth, conducting the bark of the gods_, with _the seven great gods_," &c. moreover, it is elsewhere (p. ) said that "the phoenicians, in their sacred books, stated that the kabiri _embarked in ships_, and landed near mount kaison. this legend was corroborated by the existence of a shrine on that coast in historic times." [_query_, the tradition of the deluge localised, and the shrine commemorative of that catastrophe (_vide_ boulanger, &c., _infra_, p. ); and supposing that the tradition of the number saved in the flood had been preserved down to a certain date, we should then expect that the number would become rigid and fixed. but that if the tradition of the actual survivors had become indistinct, what more natural than that the eight principal characters of ante-diluvian, or even post-diluvian, history should be substituted for them, and that the same confusion and agglomeration of legend should take place as we shall see occurring in the tradition of noah?] in the persian or iranian legend of shâh-nâmeh, "the three sons of ferêdûn--ireg, tur, and selm--are mentioned as their patriarchs, and among them the _whole earth was divided_." but in the more ancient gâthâs there is mention of "the _seven_-surfaced or _seven_-portioned earth." [_query_--apportioned by _the eighth_?] _vide_ bunsen's "egypt," iii. . for the indian tradition compare the following from hunter's "bengal" (i. p. )--"another coincidence--i do not venture to call it an analogy--is to be found in the number of children born to the first pair. as the santal legend immediately divides the human species into _seven_ families, so the sanscrit tradition assigns the propagation of _our race after the flood_ to _seven rishis_." i also find in f. schlegel's "philosophy of history" (p. , robertson's trans.)--"the indian traditions acknowledge and revere the succession of the first ancestors of mankind, or the holy patriarchs of the primitive world, under the name of the _seven great rishis_, or sages of hoary antiquity, though they invest their history with a cloud of fictions." [ ] syncellus, quoting berosus (_vide_ abbé de tressan, "mythology," p. ), says that _oannes_ (the mysterious fish, _vide ante_) left some _writings_ upon the origin of the world. these, no doubt, correspond to the "liber noachi." i do not disguise that this statement is probably derived from what is called the false berosus. the reference, however, which i have made to these writings at p. may raise doubt whether they did not embody true traditions. here we seem to see what looks like the commencement of the legendary origin of the fish symbol; and here also we see it unmistakeably in connection with noah. we have, moreover, seen the connection of hoa with the fish.[ ] [ ] i fancy it might be traced also in the phoenician fish-god, dagon. the _saturday review_ (june , ) in its review of cox's "mythology," says--"dagon cannot be divided dag-on, the fish 'on,' for a semitic syllable cannot begin with a vowel; and if the necessary breathing 'aleph' were inserted (which it is very unsafe to do), it would then mean 'the fish of on,' which is not the signification required." but it is the signification which would fit in here; moreover, might not the terminal "aon," or "_haon_," suggested, have been originally, _i.e._ before displacement by "boustrophedon"--noa or noa_h_? i give this suggestion with all proper diffidence, and with some genuine misgiving as to the "breathing aleph." i find that bryant ("mythology," iii. p. ) makes a similar suggestion. bunsen ("egypt," iv. ) says--"dagon is dagan, _i.e._ corn. this is also implied by the greek form of it--sitôn, wheat-field (comp. p. ). we have in the bible, dagon, a god of the philistines, a name usually supposed to be derived from 'dag,' fish; the god has a human form ending in a fish, like the fish-shaped goddess, derketo-atergatis. it is clear, from philo's own account, that the phoenician poseidon was a god of this kind, and it is difficult to find any other name for him. yet we cannot say that dagon is very clearly explained. here is a god of agriculture, well authenticated, both linguistically and documentally, dagan, _i.e._ wheat, and he is the _zeus of agriculture_." _vide_ p. . p. says dagon must not be confounded with "dagan," but without reconciling it with the above at p. , on the contrary, we find "dagon, dagan = corn (the fish-man)." at p. , quoting from the _text_ of philo, it is said still more pointedly--"dagon, after he _had discovered corn and the plough_, was called zeus arotnios." comp. p. . believing (_vide_ ch. xii.) in the tradition of mythology, even among savages, i could not but be much struck on coming upon the following passage in roggeveen's voyage, to find--in his account of the eastern islanders--the same conjunction of the bull and fish implied in the traditional names of their idols:--"the name of the largest idol was called _taurico_, and the other _dago_; at least, these were the words they called to them by, and wherewith they worshipped them. these savages had great respect for the two idols, _taurico_ and _dago_, and approached them with great reverence ... and to supplicate for help against us, and to call upon with a frightful shout and howling of _dago! dago!_" ("historical account of voyages round the world," , i. , .) after showing the resemblance of a feast at argos to other commemorative feasts of the deluge, boulanger (_vide infra_, i. ) says--"les argiens avoient encore une autre fête pendant laquelle ils précipitoent dans un abîme un agneau.... ils étoient armés de javelines, ils appelloient _bacchus_ au son des trompettes et l'invitoient _à semontrer hors de l'eau_; cette apparition n'arrivoit pas fréquemment sans doute" (comp. _supra_, , and ). "plutarque remarque que lors qu'ils précipitoient l'agneau, ils avoient soin de cacher leurs trompettes et leurs javelines. nous ne prétendons point expliquer tous ces mystères." is it that they feared, with armed weapons in their hands, to evoke the apparition of the old man "whose conquests were all peaceful" (p. ), and who, as manco capac (p. ), "shut his ears when they spoke to him of war." let us now turn to his reduplication, as i conceive, in nin, or ninip, who is said to be "the true fish god." "his names, bar and nin, are respectively a semitic and a hamitic term, signifying 'lord,' or 'master,'" (p. ). astronomically nin "should be saturn." however, a set of epithets which _seem to point_ to his stellar character are very difficult to reconcile with the notion that, as a celestial luminary, he was (the dark and distant) saturn. we find him called, "the light of heaven and earth," "he who, _like_ the sun, the _light_ of the _gods_, irradiates the _nations_." all this is very difficult to reconcile with legends arising out of the simple worship of a celestial luminary, but perfectly consistent with the supposition of the patriarch noah, after deification, being located in the planetary system. the phrase, "he who, like the sun, the light of the gods, irradiates the nations," is perfectly applicable to him who, as oannes, we have ever regarded as "the god of science and of knowledge;" and who "taught astronomy and letters to the first settlers on the euphrates and tigris." let us glance at the other epithets applied to nin in the inscriptions. he is the "lord of the brave," "the champion," "the warrior who subdues foes," "_he who strengthens the hearts of his followers_." [the scripture mentions the repeated assurances of the almighty to noah, that there should not be another deluge; and the above is in keeping with the tradition that the early inhabitants long hesitated to quit the mountains for the plains, and only did so incited by the example of the patriarch.] "the destroyer of enemies," "_the reducer of the disobedient_," "the exterminator of rebels," "he whose sword is good." like nergal, or mars, he is a god of battle and the chase. (i shall refer later on to these warlike epithets as applied to noah.) at the same time he has qualities which seem wholly unconnected with any that have been hitherto mentioned. he is the true "fish-god" of berosus, and is figured as such in the scriptures. (i hope i may persuade some reader, who may be interested in this inquiry, to compare the figure of nin, in rawlinson, i. , with figure , dupaix's "new spain" in lord kingsborough's "mexico," representing an emblematic figure with fish[ ] (as in the representation of nin) over a human head, which also has inverted tusks. compare also with representations of neph, associated with snake and ram's head, and also with "history of the fish," _supra_, p. .) to continue--in this point of view he (nin) is called the "god of the sea," "he who dwells in the deep;" and again, somewhat curiously, "the opener of the aqueducts." now, as applied to noah, this is not at all strange, and corresponds to the scriptural phrase, "he opened the fountains of the deeps." subsequently to deification we cannot be surprised to find all that was done by the almighty attributed to the individual to whom it was done; as in prometheus we have a double legend of the creator, who created man with the vital spark, and of prometheus, the man who was so created. "besides these epithets he has many of a more general character, as 'the _powerful chief_,' 'the supreme,' 'the _favourite_ of the _gods_,' 'the chief of the spirits,' and the like." [ ] this closely corresponds to the description of oannes given by sanchoniathon, "ap. euseb." (bryant, ii. ), _i.e._ with two heads (comp. _infra_, p. ), the human head being placed below the head of a fish:--"[greek: allên kephalên hypokatô tês tou ichthyos kephalês]." i must, moreover, request attention to the following from rawlinson, i. ,--"nin's _emblem_ in _assyria_ is the _man-bull_, the impersonation of strength and power. he guards the palaces of the assyrian kings, who reckon him their tutelary god, and gives his name to their capital city. we may conjecture that _in babylonia_ his _emblem_ was the _sacred fish_, which is often seen in different forms upon the cylinders."[ ] [ ] _vide_ similar traditions of the man-bull in india and japan. bryant, iii. , who adds, "we shall find hereafter that in this (parsee) mythology there were two ancient personages represented under the same character, and named l'homme taureau; _each_ of whom was looked upon as the _father_ of mankind." compare pp. , , the two menus and the two osiris. i turn to gainet, i. , and i find this legend concerning the man-bull from bertrand's "dict. des religions," , i. ii.[ ] [ ] the prayer used in the worship of dionysos at elis, preserved by plutarch, ended with "[greek: axie taure--axie taure]," worthy bull! (_vide_ bunsen's "egypt," iv. .) compare p. with dionysius = bacchus = noah; also of the three samothracian names of the kabiri--viz., axieros, axiokerse, axiokersos. bunsen says, "the syllable axi or axie which is found in all three, cannot be anything but the greek word 'axios,' which was used in the worship of dionysos at elis" (_id., vide infra_). on this symbol of the bull in connection with noah and the ark _vide_ bryant (ii. , _et seq._ ). he says, "every personage that had any connection with the history of the ark was described with some reference to this hieroglyphic ... that the apis and mnenis (menes) were both representations of an _ancient personage_ is certain; and who that personage was may be known from the account given of him by diodorus. he speaks of him by the name of mnenes, but confines his history to egypt, as the history of saturn was limited to italy; inachus and phoroneus to argos; deucalion to thessaly ... the same person who in crete was styled minos, min-nous, and whose city was min-noa; the same who was represented under the emblem of men-taur, or mino-taurus (_minotaur_). diodorus speaks of mnenes as the _first lawgiver_," &c., &c.... [mnenes or menes may embody traditions of noah and misraim, as osiris does of adam and noah.] at p. - [plate], we find menes represented as a bull _with the sacred dove_.... plutarch (isis and osiris) says the bulls, apis and mnenes, were sacred to osiris ... and eustath. (in dion. v. ) says of the tauric chersonese, "that the _tauric_ nation was so named from the animal taurus or bull, which was looked upon as a memorial of _the great husbandman_ osiris, who first _taught agriculture_, and to whom was ascribed _the invention_ of the _plough_." ... lycophron (v. and scholia) says, [greek: tauros], [greek: dionysos]. plutarch says dionusus (_vide supra_, p. ) was styled [greek: bougenês], or the offspring of a bull, by the people of argos, who used to invoke him as a _resident of the sea_, and entreat him _to come out of the waters_. the author of the orphic hymns calls him "taurogenes." [greek: taurogenês dionysos euphrosunên pore thnêtois]. [greek: taurogenês], is precisely of the same purport as [greek: thêbaigenês] [ark-born], and the words of this passage certainly mean "that the ark-born deity dionusus restored peace and happiness to mortals." [noah's name in scripture signifies "peace and consolation"--[greek: nôe hebraïsianapaysis] (rest), hesychius.]... the title given to diana--viz. _taurione_, is remarkable, for "taurus was an emblem of the ark, and by taurione was signified the arkite _dove_." _taurus_, and _ione_ from [greek: oinas] of the greeks, and ionas of the eastern nations = _dove_, and curiously in an inscription in gruter, diana is at _the same time_ called "regina _undarum_," and "decus _nemorum_" (bryant, ii. ). the connection of diana, juno, and venus with _the dove_ and _rainbow_ is very striking, but would lead to too long a digression. so, too, would a discussion as to how noah or the ark (secondarily) came to be associated with the bull, as a hieroglyphic. compare the above with the ox-heads and bull dance in the mandan commemoration of the deluge, _infra_, ch. xi. "d'après les livres parsis, le souverain créateur sut que le mauvais génie se disposait à tenter l'homme. il ne jugea pas à propos de l'empêcher par lui-même; il se contenta d'envoyer des anges pour veiller sur l'homme. cependant le mal augmenta; l'homme se perdit; dieu envoya un deluge, qui dura dix jours et dix nuits et détruisit le genre humain. l'apparition de kaioumons (_l'homme-taureau_), le premier homme, y est aussi précédée de la creation d'une grande eau." here, in a confused tradition, with adam--just as nin is confused with hercules and saturn--the man-bull is apparently associated with a great flood. in the curious etruscan monument commemorative of the deluge--discovered in --and to which cardinal wiseman draws attention in his "conferences" (_vide_ gainet, i. ), being a vase supposed to represent the ark, and containing figures of twenty couples of ( ) animals, ( ) birds, ( ) serpents, &c., and several human figures represented in the act of escaping from an inundation, there were also discovered certain signets and amulets. these consisted of hands joined, _heads_ of _oxen_, and olives. now the olive in connection with the deluge will speak for itself,--the hands joined are the symbol of janus (_vide_ next chapter), and heads of oxen--here unmistakably connected with the deluge--may also be conjectured to have allusion to the man-bull above referred to. thus nin, through both his emblems (bull and fish), is brought into contact with the noachic tradition.[ ] it is also said (rawlinson, i. ) of nergal, _vide supra_, who is clearly identified with nimrod,--"again, if nergal is the man-lion, his association in the buildings with the man-bull would be exactly parallel with the conjunction which we so constantly find between him and _nin_ in the inscriptions." [ ] since writing the above i have found the following note in rawlinson's "herodotus," i. , on ninip:--"there is, however, another explanation of the name bar-sam or bur-shem, of which some notice must be taken. it has been already stated that if the _noachid_ triad be compared with the assyrian, ana will correspond with ham, bel-nimrod with shem, and hoa with japhet." the following passage, also from rawlinson's "herodotus," i. , appears to me valuable in proof of the transition from ancestral to solar worship, or at least of their interfusion:--"the sun was probably named in babylonia both san and sanei, before his title took the definite _semitic_ form of _shamas_, by which he is known in assyrian and _in all_ the languages of _that family_." now, standing by itself, this might not appear very significant; but compare it with the following passages connecting _ham_ with the sun:--"by the syrians the sun and heat were called ... chamba; by the persians, hama; and the temple of the sun, the temple of _am_mon or _ham_mon." mr bryant shows that ham was esteemed the zeus of greece and the jupiter of latium. mr g. higgins' "anacalypsis," p. . bryant says, "the worship of ham, _or the sun_, as it was the most ancient, so it was the most universal of any in the world." these passages may possibly be so interpreted as to support a solar theory, but is it not at least suspicious to see the name of the central luminary so apparently identified with historical characters whose memory is distinctly preserved _aliunde_ in the traditions of their descendants? compare nimrod, ch. viii. , _et seq._ it is true that the majority of the inscriptions, p. , assert that nin was the son of bel-nimrod. this may be referred to that tendency, previously noted in ancient nations, to place the ancestor with whom they were themselves identified at the head of every genealogy. one inscription, however, "makes bel-nimrod the son of nin instead of his father." nin, in any case, is unquestionably brought into close historical relationship with bel-nimrod, an historical character, and we must, in fine, choose whether we shall admit him to be noah--to whom all the epithets would apply--or whether, upon the more literal construction of the inscriptions, we shall believe him to be some nameless son or successor of nimrod. there is one god more in whom i fancy i see a counterpart of noah, or at least a counterpart of hoa and nin--viz. nebo. i base my conclusion upon the epithets applied to him in common with hoa and nin, and inconsistently applied if, according to the evidence, p. , "mythologically he was a deity of no very great eminence," but in no way conflicting with the supposition that he represented the tradition of noah, the counterpart to the tradition of hoa and nin, among some subordinate nationality, and such appears to be the fact. "when nebo first appears in assyria, it is as a foreign god, whose worship is brought thither from babylonia," p. . of nebo it is said, "his name is the same or nearly so, both in babylonian and assyrian, and we may perhaps assign it a _semitic_ derivation, from the root _'nibbah,' to prophesy_. it is his special function to preside over _knowledge_ and _learning_. he is called 'the god who possesses intelligence'--'he who hears from afar'--'he who _teaches_,' or 'he who teaches and instructs.' in this point of view he of course approximates to hoa, _whose son_ he is called in some inscriptions, and to whom he bears a general resemblance. like hoa, he is symbolised by the simple wedge or arrow-head, the primary and essential element of cuneiform writing, to mark his _joint_ presidency with that god over writing and literature. at the same time nebo has, like so many of the chaldæan gods, a number of general titles, implying divine powers, which, if they had belonged to him only, would have seemed to prove him the supreme deity. he is 'the lord of lords, who has no equal in power,' _'the supreme chief_,' '_the sustainer_,' 'the supporter,' the 'ever ready,' 'the guardian over the heavens and the earth,' 'the lord of the constellations,' 'the holder of the sceptre of power,' 'he who grants to kings the sceptre of royalty for the _governance_ of their people'" (rawlinson, i. ). there is just a possibility, however, that nebo may be sem or shem. he would be the son of hoa as nebo was stated to be. i think, moreover, a striking resemblance will be seen between the above epithets and the traditions concerning _shem_, collected by calmet (dict. "sem.") "the jews attribute to sem the theological _tradition_ of the _things which noah taught to the first men_.... they say that he is the same as melchisedek.... in fine, the hebrews believe that he taught _men the law of justice_, the manner of counting the months and years, and the intercalations of the months. they pretend that _god gave him the spirit of prophecy_ one hundred years after the deluge, and that he continued _to prophesy_ during four hundred years, with little fruit among mankind, who had become very corrupt. methodius says that he remained in the isle of the sun, that he invented astronomy, and that he was _the first king who ruled over the earth_."[ ] [ ] rawlinson says that there is no doubt that nebo represents the planet mercury, and between the attributes of mercury or hermes, the epithets of nebo, and the traditions concerning shem, there is something in common. he is the god of eloquence and persuasion--the god of alliances and peace. "he contributed to civilise the manners and cultivate the minds of the people." "he united them by commerce and good laws." the egyptian mercury or thaut first invented landmarks. finally, "he was consulted by the titans, his relations, _as an augur_, which gave occasion to the poets to describe him as interpreter of the will of the gods."--_l'abbe de tressan, "mythology."_ the difficulty, however, is in understanding how the worship of shem came to assyria _from_ babylonia. i can only reconcile it upon a theory that _all_ idolatry came from babylonia, _i.e._ from the hamitic race. there remains a difficulty which will doubtless occur to every one who has read the chapter in rawlinson to which i must acknowledge myself so much indebted, and it is a difficulty which i ought, perhaps, to have dealt with before; and that is, that there is in the pages of rawlinson (i. vii. ) the most distinct identification of noah with xisuthrus. of this there can be no doubt, from his direct connection with the deluge, the circumstances of which are perfectly recorded in the babylonian tradition.[ ] this establishes the fact that the tradition of noah and the deluge was still among them when berosus wrote. but if xisuthrus is noah, then it may be said hoa, oannes, and nin cannot be noah. it is a _non sequitur_, but will still, i fear, be very influential with many. it is difficult to understand the tendency to reduplication, and still more difficult to realise how a tradition so clear and decided could be contemporaneous with other identical traditions so entangled and confused. i believe this explanation to be that the account of xisuthrus was part of the esoteric tradition to which rawlinson refers, and which was also the tradition of their learned men--"vixere fortes ante agamemnon";--and we cannot suppose that berosus (of whom we should have known nothing if his works had not been preserved to us at third or fourth hand) was the first chronicler of his nation.[ ] [ ] "notwithstanding the difficulty of ascending to so distant a period, there will always be found some traces by which truth may be discovered.... the historian josephus relates that the chaldæans from the _earliest_ times _carefully preserved_ the remembrance of past events by public inscriptions on their monuments. he says they caused these annals to be written by the wisest men of their nation."--_l'abbe de tressan, "hist. of heathen mythology."_ london, . [ ] i had come to the above conclusion upon the perusal of rawlinson, and before i had read bryant, who, i find, had already come to this identical conclusion. ("mythology," iii. .) speaking of berosus' account of oannes and xisuthrus, he says, "the latter was undoubtedly taken from the archives of the chaldæans. the former is allegorical and obscure, and was copied from _hieroglyphical representations_ which could not be precisely deciphered.... in consequence of his borrowing from records so very different, we find him, without his being apprized of it, giving _two histories of the same person_. under the character of _the man of the sea_, whose _name was oannes_, we have _an allegorical representation of the great patriarch_; whom _in his other history he calls sisuthrus_." i shall pursue this inquiry into the classical mythology in the next chapter, and then recapitulate the results as regards this inquiry. chapter x. _the tradition of noah and the deluge._ i now come to a different set of illustrations still more germane to my subject. calmet says:--"plusieurs scavans out remarqué que les pagans ont confondu saturne, deucalion, ogyges, le dieu coelus ou ouranus, janus, prothée, prométhée, virtumnus, bacchus, osiris, vadimon, nisuthrus avec noë." i must add that this enumeration by no means exhausts the list. it is not my purpose, however, to pursue the subject in all its ramifications. i shall limit myself to the examination of one or two of these counterparts of noah. * * * * * i. and in the first place, "him of mazy counsel, saturn," the expression of hesiod ([greek: t' iapeton te ide kronon agkylomêtên]), hesiod. theog. v. , which so well befits the intermediary between god and the survivors of the deluge. "under saturn," as plutarch tells us, "was the golden age." calmet says (dict. "saturne"), "quant aux traits de ressemblance qui se trouvent entre noë et saturne, ils ne peuvent être plus sensibles.[ ] il (saturne) est représenté avec une faulx comme inventeur de l'agriculture[ ]: noë est nommé 'vir agricola' (gen. ix. ) et il est dit qu'il commença à cultiver la terre. les _saturnales_, qu'on célébrait dans le vin et dans la licence et _où les serviteurs s'égaloient à leurs maitres_--marquent l'ivresse de noë et sa malédiction qui assujettit chanaan à ses frères tout égal qu'il leur étoit par sa naissance." [i have _little doubt that this bacchanalian recollection originated the tradition of the equality of conditions_ in the _golden_ age, contrary to the facts of scripture and history.] "on disoit que noë avait dévoré tous ses enfans à l'exception de jupiter, de neptune, et de pluton. noë vit périr dans les eaux du déluge tous les hommes de son temps dont plusieurs étoient ses parents et plus jeunes que lui. dans la stile de l'écriture on dit souvent que l'on fait ce qu'on n'empêche pas, ou même ce que l'on prédit." further resemblances are traced in calmet. [ ] bochart also says (geog. sacra, lib. i.) "noam esse saturnum tam multa docent, ut vix sit dubitandi locus." [ ] "cum falce, messis insigne."--_macrobius, "saturn."_ now, i find in sanchoniathon,[ ] _i.e._ in the most ancient phoenician historian, a tradition running exactly parallel with this greek tradition as interpreted by calmet:--"ces genies, ces sages, ces dieux, nous expliquent les autres dieux qui, d'après berose, forment l'homme du sang de bélus, et tous les dieux que sanchoniaton nous représente saisis d'épouvante _à la vue de saturne, faisant périr par le déluge son fils sadid_."--(le peuple primitif; rougemont, i. , quoted by gainet, iii. , with reference to the worship of spirits.) i adduce it in evidence of the connection in tradition between saturn and the deluge, and in corroboration of calmet's interpretation, which clears the greek myth of what is grotesque and repulsive in it. [ ] sanchoniathon, _vide supra_ m'lennan (ch. vii.) if i have sufficiently identified saturn with noah and the period of the deluge, the lines of virgil (Æneid, th book, ), besides bearing testimony in the same direction, appear to me to acquire a new meaning and significance:-- "primus ab ætherio venit _saturnus_ olympo, arma jovis fugiens, _et regnis exul ademptis_, is genus indocile, ac dispersum montibus altis composuit; _legesque dedit_; latiumque vocari maluit."... "_aurea_, quæ perhibent, _illo sub rege_ fuerunt _sæcula_; sed placidâ populos in pace regebat, deterior donec paulatim ac discolor ætas et belli rabies et amor successit habendi."[ ] [ ] bryant (mythology, ii. ) says:--"he is by lucian made to say of himself [greek: oudeis hyp' emou doulos ên]. the latins in great measure confine his history to their own country, where, like janus, he is represented as refining and modelling mankind, and giving them laws. at other times he is introduced as prior to law; which are seeming contrarieties very easy to be reconciled." there were traditions also of saturn in crete and sparta.--_bryant_, iii. . allowing for the confusion incidental to the deification of noah in the person of saturn, which necessitates his descent from heaven, the rest of the verses seem merely to describe what is recorded in tradition, if not implied in the scriptural narrative, that noah, a voyager and exile, his possessions having been lost in the flood, flying the wrath--not indeed as directed against himself, but the consequences of the wrath of the almighty[ ]--persuaded the survivors of the flood to abandon the mountains, to which they clung in fear of a second deluge, and brought them into the plains, incited and encouraged by his example,--he who, if he be the same (_vide supra_, , ) with nin and nebo, we have seen called "the sustainer," "the supporter," "he who strengthens the hearts of his followers," who taught them the cultivation of the soil, and of whom it is now said more distinctly than we have seen it heretofore stated, _legesque dedit_.[ ] [ ] _vide supra_, p. . [ ] an indirect argument in proof of the identity of saturn and noah might be adduced if i had space to incorporate boulanger's evidence of the ceremonies among the ancients' commemoration of the deluge, ("vestiges d'usages hydrophoriques dans plusieurs fêtes anciennes et modernes"). this being assumed, is it not of some significance that when the roman pontiffs proceeded to the banks of the tiber to perform their annual (commemorative) ceremonial, that they should make their expiatory sacrifices to saturn? the points that bryant takes (ii. ) are very striking:--"he was looked upon as the _author_ of time, 'ipse qui _auctor_ temporum' (macrob. i. ). [his medals had on the reverse the figure of _a ship_.] they represented him as of an uncommon age, with hair white as snow; they had a notion that he _would return to second childhood_. 'ipsius autem canities primosis nivibus candicabat; _licet etiam ille puer posse fieri crederetur_.'--martianus capella. martial's address to him, though short, has in it something remarkable, for he speaks of him as a native _of the former world_-- 'antiqui rex magne poli, _mundique prioris_, sub quo prima quies, nec labor ullus erat.'--l. , e. . i have mentioned that he was supposed, [greek: katapinein], to have _swallowed up his children_; he was also said to have _ruined all things_; which, however, _were restored with a vast increase_."--orphic hymn, , v. . compare calmet, _supra_, pp. and . martianus capella and varro de ling. lat. lib. i. , call him _sator_, a sower, "saturnus sator." now it is curious that the ancient germans had a god "of the name of _sator_." he is described by verstegan as "standing _upon a fish_, with a wheel in one hand, and in the other a _vessel of water_ filled with fruits and flowers." _n.b._--i was surprised to find in carver's "travels in north america" (p. ) the phrase among the north american indians, of things being done at the instigation "of the grand _sautor_." there is no doubt much that is monstrous and grotesque in the classical conception of saturn, but i must again suggest that as all traditions met in noah, and were tradited through him, we must not be surprised to find all antediluvian traditions confused in noah. thus even the tradition of lamech, which we have seen (_vide supra_, ) variously distorted in the legends of perseus and oedipus, are again repeated in the legends of saturn. there are, no doubt, also divers astral complications arising out of saturn's place in the planetary system. when, however, we are told that saturn was son of coelus and tellus or coelus and vesta,[ ] the same as terra (montfauçon), it seems to occur to us, as a thing "qui saute aux yeux," that this was only a mode of expressing a truth, applicable to all men in general, and saturn as a primal progenitor in particular, and having reference to the composite nature of man; in other words, that this was simply the tradition which noah would have handed down that he was created,[ ] as were all other men, out of the earth, yet with something ethereal in his composition which came direct from the deity. what the astral explanation may be i am at a loss to imagine. it cannot by any possibility be supposed to have reference to their relative positions in the heavens. [ ] "saturn is by plato supposed to have been the son of _oceanus_."--bryant, ii. . [ ] _vide_ autochthones, ch. vii. i shall return to saturn, under the representation of oceanus, when i come to speak of janus. ii. _bacchus._--the _saturnalia_ may be taken as the connecting link between _saturn_ and _bacchus_, and i think that it is sufficiently remarkable that there should be this link of connection. but as the legends of saturn are not all derived from noah, so neither do all the traditions concerning bacchus appertain to saturn. i shall simply separate and note such as appear to me to be in common, _e.g._ "that bacchus found out the making of wine, the art of planting trees, and many things else commodious for mankind." ["and noah, a husbandman, began to till the ground, and planted a vineyard, and drinking the wine was made drunk," gen. ix. .][ ] it is said there were several bacchuses. this may be only a reduplication, such as we have seen in the case of oannes, nin, and nebo, or as in the multiplications of jupiter. "joves omnes reges vocarunt antiqui."[ ] [ ] "the scriptures tell us that noah cultivated the vine; and all profane historians agree in placing bacchus in the first ages of the world" (in proof of early cultivation of the vine).--goguet, "origin of laws," i. . compare _supra_, p. , "saturnus _sator_." bryant says, "the history of dionusus is closely connected with that of bacchus, though they are two distinct persons." he supposes dionusus to be noah, and bacchus ham. but he may very well have embodied the traditions of both. pausanius (lib. iii. ) says dionusus was exposed _in an ark_ and wonderfully _preserved_. he was also said to have been twice born, and to have had two fathers and two mothers, in allusion to the two periods of his existence separated by the deluge. dionusus (orphic hymn, , ) is addressed as [greek: elthe, makar dionyse, pyrispore tauroumetôpe]. [ ] the phrase "father bacchus," current among the ancients (_vide_ hor. odes. i. xviii.) has always struck me as singular. it is perfectly congruous with the tradition of noah; but who will tell us its appropriate solar or astral application? on this subject montfauçon says (i. )[ ] apropos of a point to which i shall again refer, viz. that bacchus was _tauri_cornis. "diodorus siculus says that the horns are only ascribed to the second bacchus, the son of jupiter and proserpine; but these distinctions of various bacchus were minded only in the more ancient times, hardly known in their worship.... this will also hold good of most of the other gods who were multiplied in the same manner." [ ] montfauçon, from whom i have quoted, was simply an antiquarian--a very erudite and laborious antiquarian, but one whose sole concern was to discriminate facts without reference to their bearings, and who would have had, i have little doubt, a supreme contempt for the speculations in which i have indulged. he says in his preface--"i have a due regard for those great men who have excelled in this sort of learning, but must own at the same time i have no taste for it.... _it signifies very little to us to know_ whether they who tell us vulcan was the same with tubalcain, or they who say he was the same with moses, make the best guess in the matter." though the general opinion may not incline any more now than then to the biblical interpretation, yet i think a great change has taken place in public opinion as to the importance of the inquiry. triptolemus was also said to have been "the inventor of the plough and of agriculture, and of civilisation, which is the result of it," and to have instituted the elusinian mysteries. like bacchus he is also said to have "ridden all over the earth, making men acquainted with the blessings of agriculture."--_smith. myth. dict.; vide_ also _infra_, p. : "deucalion." vicomte d'anselme (gainet, i. ), asks with reference to his greek name of dionysius, "pourquoi les grecs donnaient-ils le nom de dionysos ou de divin noush (dios nous ou noë) à l'inventeur du vin?"--_vide supra_, ch. ix.; vide also gainet, i. . bacchus is by some called "_tauri_cornis" (compare _supra_, p. , nin) "or bucornis, and moreover he is frequently so represented," (_i.e._ not only with the horn in hand, a "_bull's_ horn," as he is sometimes, which might be a drinking horn or cornucopia, in its way emblematical of the vir agricola"), "but also with horns on the head. horace calls him "bicorniger," orpheus, [greek: boukerôs]; nicander, [greek: taurokerôs]."--_montfauçon_, i. , ; comp. p. , note to "nin." one bacchus, cicero tells us, "was king of asia and author of the _laws_ called subazian."--_montfauçon_, i. . it is, moreover, said that bacchus travelled through all nations as far as india,[ ] doing good in all places, and teaching many things profitable to the life of man. his conquests are said to have been easy and without bloodshed. but it is also noted that amidst his benevolence to mankind, he was relentless in punishing all want of respect for his divinity, and indeed the _conduct_ and punishment of chanaan may be said to be narrated in the history of pentheus.--_vide_ _montf._ i. .[ ] [ ] dionusus like bacchus came to india from _the west_.--_philostratus_, lib. ii. ; _byrant_, ii. . the indian bacchus "appears in the character of a wise and distinguished oriental monarch; his features an expression of sublime tranquillity and mildness."--_smith, myth. dic._ [ ] this appears to me still more apparent in the th idyll of theocritus, where, when the bacchanals were at their revels, "perched on the sheer cliff pentheus would espy all.... (for profaning thus "these mysteries weird that must not be profaned by vulgar eyes," pentheus is torn to pieces by the bacchanals).... "warned by this tale, let no man dare defy great bacchus; lest a death more awful should he die. and when he counts _nine_ years or scarcely _ten_ rush to his ruin. may i pass my days _uprightly_, and be loved by _upright_ men. and take this motto, all who covet praise ('twas ægis-bearing jove that spoke it first), the godly seed fares well, _the wicked is accurst_." --_caverley's theocritus_, xxvi. this seems to bear out what is perhaps only vaguely implied in the sacred text that the curse was on chanaan--the boy and his posterity--and not on the whole race of cham.--_vide ante_: also compare the "bacchæ" of euripides, in the following passage from grote's "plato" (iii. ):--"so in the 'bacchæ' of euripides, the two old men, kadmus and teiresias, after vainly attempting to inculcate upon pentheus the belief in and the worship of dionysus, at last appeal to his prudence and admonish him of the danger of unbelief;" which, if it be tradition, would look as if chanaan's offence was only the final and overt expression of previous unbelief. iii. _janus._--janus represented the most ancient tradition of noah in italy; subsequent migrations brought in the legend of saturn, and thus we find them variously confounded--saturn sometimes figuring as his guest, sometimes as his son, sometimes as his colleague on the throne. like saturn he appears as double-headed or bifrons, he is said to have introduced civilisation among the wild tribes of italy, and under him, as under saturn, there appears to have been a golden age. i have made reference to _saturn_ as oceanus (_vide montfauçon_, i. ), and as oceanus his representations are very remarkable. in one he appears as an old man sitting on the waves of the sea, with a _sea monster_ on one side of him, and his spear or rod in his hand. in another as sitting on the waves of the sea with ships about him; he is "holding an urn and pours out water, the symbol of _the sea, and also of rivers and fountains_." _but janus is also_ represented in his medals "with a prow of a ship on the reverse," and he is said to have first invented crowns, _ships_, and _boats_, and to have coined the first money. "according to the accounts of mythologists," says macrobius, "_all families in the time of janus_ were full of religion and _holiness_." "xenon says he was the first that built temples and instituted sacred rites," and was therefore always mentioned at the beginning of sacrifices. with reference to his description as "bifrons," macrobius says (some say) he was so called "because he knew the past and future things.... some pretend to prove that janus is the sun, and that he is represented with two faces, because he is master of the two _doors_[ ] of heaven, and opens the day at his rising and shuts it at his setting." [ ] _vide_ dr smith's "myth. dict." art. janus:--"whereas the worship of _janus_ was introduced at rome by romulus, that of _sol_ was instituted by _titus tatius_." a good secondary explanation is,[ ] that "as janus always began the year" (whence january) "the two heads do look on and import the old and new year;" but then occurs the question--and this is why i submit that it is only a secondary explanation--how came janus to commence the year? [ ] if janus is allowed to have been identified with saturn (_supra_) we may see through the analogy of saturn how these secondary functions came to be attributed to him--saturn was also chronos [that chronos = noah, _vide_ _palmer's egypt. chron._, i. p. ]; "but," as dr smith says, "there is no resemblance between the deities, except that both were regarded as the most ancient deities in their respective countries." as chronos simply personifies antiquity itself, this only means that saturn was the most ancient deity. when subsequently he became merged in "chronos," his ancient sickle became converted into a scythe. dr smith ("dict. myth.") says, "he held in his hand a crooked pruning knife, and his feet were surrounded with a _woollen_ riband;" and goguet ("origin of laws," i. ) says, "all old traditions speak of the _sickle_ of saturn, who is said to have taught the people of his time to cultivate the earth."--_plut._ i. p. , ; _macrob. sat._, lib. i. . goguet ("origin of laws," i. ) says, "several critics are of opinion that the janus of the ancients is the same with javan the son of japhet, gen. x. ." it may afford a clue if i advert to the circumstance that whilst in the phoenician alphabet (_vide bunsen's egypt_. iv. , , ), dagon, dagan = corn (the fish-man, _vide supra_, p. ), stands for the letter d. "the door" is its hieroglyphic equivalent. thus we get in strange juxtaposition what we may call symbols, connecting janus with the fish-god and with the god of agriculture.--_vide supra_, p. , and _infra_. in the nomenclature of the calendar connected with any system of hero worship, worship of ancestors, or even spirit worship, who more fitly chosen to commence the year than janus, supposing him to be noah? there are, however, two what we may call primary explanations, and we must take our choice. the epithet is either applied to him, as exactly according with the reminiscence of noah, who was pre-eminently acquainted with the past and the future; or we can take the astral explanation that janus was called bifrons,[ ] because he opened the sun at his rising and shut it at his setting. as a symbol of noah this double head appears to me very simple and natural, noah forming the connecting link between the antediluvian and modern worlds; but as applied to the sun or to janus as in relation to the sun, even allowing for personification, this twofold head of man strikes me as incongruous in the extreme. besides, if it be allowed that it might apply to saturn and janus through the connecting idea of chronos, how does it apply to _bacchus_? let us press this argument further. here is a symbol common to bacchus, saturn, and janus, and combining harmoniously in each instance with the representation of noah. can this symbol, common to these three, combine even congruously with any solar or astral legend? i have somewhere seen it noted as suspicious and as tending to confirm the solar theory that these mythological personages all "journey from _east_ to west, and meet their fate in the evening." but is this so? have we not just seen that bacchus, according to mythology, travelled from the _west_ into india? [ ] bryant ("mythology," ii. ) says, "many persons of great learning have not scrupled to determine that noah and janus were the same. by plutarch he is called [greek: iannos], and represented as an ancient prince who reigned in the infancy of the world.... he was represented with two faces, with which he looked both forwards and backwards; and from hence he had the name of janus bifrons. one of these faces was that of an aged man; but in the other was often to be seen the countenance of a young and beautiful personage. about him ... many emblems.... there was particularly a _staff in one hand_, with which he pointed to a rock, from whence issued a profusion of water. in the other hand he held a key.... he had generally near him _some resemblance of a ship_.... plutarch does not accede to the common notion" (that it was the ship that brought saturn to italy), "but still _makes it a question why_ the coins of this personage bore on one side the resemblance of janus bifrons, and on the other the representation of either the hind part or the fore part _of a ship_.... he is said to have first composed a chaplet, and to him they attributed the _invention of a ship_. upon the sicilian coins (at the temple) of eryx _his_ figure often occurs with a twofold countenance, and on the reverse _is a dove_ encircled with a crown, which seems _to be of olive_. he is represented as a _just man_ and _a prophet_ (comp. pp. - ), and had the remarkable characteristics of being in a manner the author of time and the god of the year." but not only were saturn, janus, and bacchus represented as "bifrons," but so also was cecrops. cecrops will present a difficulty the more in the way of any solar theory; but cecrops,[ ] like all founders or supposed founders of states, has something in common with noah. like saturn and janus in italy, cecrops was said to have brought the population of attica into cities, to have given them laws, taught them the worship of the idols, _planted the olive_, and finally, was represented as half man, half serpent.[ ] [ ] "megasthenes stated that the first king (of india) was dionysus. he found a rude population in a savage state, clothed in skins, unacquainted with agriculture, and without fixed habitations. the length of his reign is not given. the introduction of civilization and agriculture is a natural allusion to the immigration of the aryans into a country inhabited by turanian races.... fifteen generations after dionysus, hercules reigned.... now all this is obviously pure indian tradition. dionysus is the elder manu, the divine primeval man, son of the sun (vivasvat). he holds the same position in the primeval history of india as does jima or gemshid, another name of the primeval man in the iranian world.... the first era, then, is represented by megasthenes as having fourteen generations of human kings, with a god as the founder and a god as the destroyer of the dynasty, in all fifteen or sixteen generations."--_bunsen's egypt_, iii. . compare those fifteen generations with palmer. compare the confusion of dionysus and hercules with deucalion and prometheus, &c., p. . pelasgus among the arcadians passed for the first man and the first legislator (boulanger, i. ). of cadmus, too, it is said--"greece is indebted to him for alphabetical writing, the art of _cultivating the vine_, and the forging and working of _metals_."--_goguet_, ii. . [ ] _vide supra_, oannes, ch. ix.; _vide_ smith, "myth. dict." to return to janus. before concluding i must note that janus is called eanus by cicero, which may perhaps have analogy with "hea and hoa" (ch. ix.), and with eannes and "oannes," although cicero derives it from "eundo." janus was also called "consivius a conserendo," because he presided over generation, a title singularly appropriate to noah as the second founder of the race, and through whom the injunction was given "to increase and multiply."[ ] he is moreover called "quirinus or martialis," "because he presided over war," which is precisely the aspect under which it is the original and main purpose of this dissertation to consider noah; and here i think i am entitled to urge, that if i have succeeded on other grounds in showing that nin, hoa, janus, &c., represented noah, then that these epithets, "quirinus," "martialis," "king of battle," &c., can only be applied to him whose conquests were bloodless in the sense of controlling and regulating war.[ ] in connection with this title of "martialis," as applied to janus--and, by the by, all the traditions concerning him are altogether peaceful and bloodless--it will be remembered that his temple was open in war and shut in peace, and closed for the third and last time at the moment of the birth of our lord. [ ] "all nations have given the honour of the discovery of agriculture to their _first_ sovereigns. the egyptians said that osiris (_vide supra_, p. ) made men desist from eating each other, by teaching them to cultivate the earth. the chinese annals relate that gin-hoang, one of the first kings of that country, invented agriculture, and by that means collected men into society, who before had wandered in the fields and woods like brute beasts." (goguet, "origin of laws.") i need not remind the reader that goguet's learned work is not written from our point of view. compare _infra_, p. . [ ] _vide_, chap. xiii. golden age, mexican tradition. his name was also invoked first in religious ceremonies, "because, as presiding over armies," &c., through him only could prayers reach the immortal gods. is not this a reminiscence of the communications of the almighty to man through noah? iv. _ogyges and deucalion._--i might pass over these traditions of noah, since, having reference only to the fact of the deluge and the personality of noah, they will not furnish matter for the special purpose of this inquiry; but on these grounds the investigation may be justified, and moreover seems necessary, for the completion of this chapter, and to indicate the independent source and derivation of the classical tradition. it appears to me manifest that the deluges of ogyges and deucalion were neither locally historical nor partial deluges, but merely the reminiscences of the universal deluge. of the universal deluge, whether we call it the mosaic deluge or not, there is evidence and tradition in all parts of the world; though in every instance it is localised in its details and its history of the survivors.[ ] [ ] although the greater number of these traditions have been localised, yet in almost every case we shall find embodied in them some one incident or other of the universal deluge, as recorded by moses. kalisch ("hist. and crit. commentary on the old testament") says:--"it is unnecessary to observe that there is scarcely a single feature in the biblical account which is not discovered in one or several of the heathen traditions; and the coincidences are not limited to desultory details, they extend to the whole outlines, and the very tenor and spirit of the narrative; ... and it is certain that none of these accounts are derived from the pages of the bible--they are independent of each other.... there must indisputably have been a common basis, a universal source, and this source is the general tradition of primitive generations." it is not, i think, generally known how widespread these traditions are. l'abbé gainet has collected some thirty-five ("la bible sans la bible"); but mr catlin (_vide infra_, p. ) says he found the tradition of a deluge among one hundred and twenty tribes which he visited in north, south, and central america. this accords with humboldt's testimony (kalisch, i. ), who "found the tradition of a general deluge vividly entertained among the wild tribes peopling the regions of orinoco." to these i must add the evidence of the indirect testimony of the commemorative ceremonies which i have collected in another chapter (_vide_ p. ). it has been said that the chinese tradition is too obscure to be adduced, but we shall see (p. ) whether, when in contact with other traditions, it cannot be made to give light; and i shall refer my readers to the pages of mr palmer (_supra_, p. ) for evidence of the tradition in egypt, where it had heretofore been believed that no such evidence was to be found. in india (_vide_ ch. ix.) the tradition is embodied in the history of manu and the fish; and bunsen ("egypt," iii. ) admits "that there is evidence in the vedas, however slight, that the flood does form a part of the reminiscences of iran." _vide_ also p. , evidence of the tradition in cashmere. i wish also to direct attention here to two recent and important testimonies to the existence of the tradition in india and the himalayan range. at pp. and of hunter's "bengal," it will be seen that the santals have a distinct tradition of the creation, flood, intoxication of noah, and the dispersion; and of the vedic evidence, which bunsen (_supra_, ) calls slight, mr hunter says:--"on the other hand, the sanscrit story of the deluge, like that in the pentateuch, makes no mystery of the matter. a ship is built, seeds are taken on board, the ship is pulled about for some time by a fish, and at last gets on shore upon a peak of the himalayas." dr hooker ("himalayan journal," ii. ) says:--"the lepchas have a curious legend of a man and woman having saved themselves on the _summit_ of tendong (a very fine mountain, feet) during a flood which _once deluged sikhim_," which he authenticates on the spot. here, as in many of mr catlin's instances of local tradition, i may observe that the event as recorded proves the universality of the deluge for the rest of the world, or at least all the world below the level of tendong. in speaking, however, of the universal deluge (universal as far as the human race are concerned), i do not enter into the geological argument, or exclude the view (permissible i believe, _vide_ reusch, p. , and note to rev. h. j. coleridge's fourth sermon on "the latter days") that it was not geographically universal. i merely adhere to the testimony of tradition, and from this point of view it would suffice (_vide_ reusch) that it was universal so far as the horizon of the survivors extended. since, however, there is nothing to be said against the possibility of subsequent partial inundations, there will, i suppose, always be found persons ready to maintain that the deluges of ogyges and deucalion were partial and historical; although i submit that the arguments which were formerly used to prove the priority of ogyges to deucalion, and the posteriority of both to the general deluge, turned upon points of chronology which will hardly be sustained at the present day. if, however, i can succeed in showing that the deluge of deucalion is identical with the deluge of noah, i shall consider that i shall have also proved the point for the deluge of ogyges, which all agree to have been much older! the following is mr grote's narrative collating the different traditions respecting the deluge of deucalion:-- "deukalion is important in grecian mythical narration under two points of view. first, he is the person specially saved at the time of the general deluge; next, he is the father of hellên, the great eponym of the hellenic race; at least that was the more current story, though there were other statements which made hellên the son of zeus." [this was merely the incipient process of the apotheosis of their more immediate founder.] "the enormous iniquity with which the earth was contaminated, as apollodorus says, by the then existing _brazen_ race, or, as others say, by the fifty monstrous sons of sykorôn, provoked zeus to send a general deluge." "the latter account is given by dionys. halic. i. ; the former seems to have been given by hellenikus, who affirmed that the _ark_ after the deluge stopped upon mount othrys, and not upon mount parnassus (_schol. pind. ut supra_), the former being suitable for a settlement in thessaly." [i have already pointed out how the general tradition is everywhere localised.] "an _unremitting_ and _terrible rain_ laid the whole of greece under water except the highest mountain-tops, where a few stragglers found refuge. deukalion was saved in a chest or ark, which he had been forewarned by his father prometheus to construct. after he had floated for nine days on the water, he at length landed on the summit of mount parnassus. zeus hearing, sent hermes to him, promising to grant whatever he asked. he prayed that men and companions might be sent him in his solitude: accordingly zeus directed both him and pyrrha to cast stones over their heads, those cast by pyrrha became women, those by deukalion men. and thus the 'stony race of men' (if we may be allowed to translate an etymology which the greek language presents exactly, and which has not been disdained by hesiod, by pindar, by epicharmes, and by virgil), came to tenant the soil of greece. deukalion on landing from the ark sacrificed a grateful offering to zeus phyxios, or the god of escape; he also erected altars in thessaly to the twelve great gods of olympus. the reality of this deluge was firmly believed throughout the historical ages of greece (localising it, however, and post-dating it to b.c.) statements founded upon this event were in circulation throughout greece even to a very late date. the magarians ... and in the magnificent temple of the olympian zeus at athens, a cavity in the earth was shown, through which it was affirmed that the water of the deluge had retired. even in the time of pausanias the priests poured into this cavity holy offerings of meal and honey. in this, as in other parts of greece, _the idea of the deukalionian deluge was blended with the religious impressions of the people, and commemorated by their most sacred ceremonies_."--_grote's "history of greece,"_ vol. i. ch. v. , , "_the deluge_."[ ] [ ] mr grote certainly says--"apollodorus connects this deluge with the wickedness of the brazen race in hesiod, according to the practice general with the logographers of stringing together a sequence out of legends totally unconnected with each other." one would have thought in one's simplicity that if any two legends linked well together, uniting in common agreement with the scriptural account, it would be the legends of the deluge and the brazen age. mr max müller (comp. "myth.," "chips.," ii. ), incidentally speaking of the legend of deucalion, treats it with great contempt. "what is more ridiculous," he says, "than the mythological account of the creation of the human race by deucalion and pyrrha throwing stones behind them (a myth which owes its origin to a mere pun on [greek: laos] and [greek: laas])." and ridiculous it certainly is from any point of view from which mr max müller could regard it, _i.e._ either as the invention of a mythic period, or as a fugitive allegory arising out of some astral or solar legend: _per contra_, i shall submit that there is nothing forced in supposing that this legend arose out of some one of the processes of corruption to which all tradition is prone, of the known fact that the human race was re-propagated by deucalion or noah.[ ] if i am asked to explain how it came about that there should have been this identity between the word for a "man" and a "stone," i must simply confess my ignorance. perhaps if mr max müller could be brought to look at things more from the point of view of biblical traditions, he might be enabled to see it. all that i can suggest is, that perhaps it may have a common origin with that homeric expression quoted by mr max müller at p. (_vide supra_), "thou art not sprung from the olden tree or from the rock." i consider that i shall definitely establish, however, that it originates in a tradition and not "a mere pun," and at any rate that it is not local, it is not greek. it is no doubt singular that the word for man, [greek: laos], populus, should so closely resemble the word for a stone, [greek: laas]; but not only is this coincidence found in the greek, but we shall see that it is widely spread in all parts of the world. in proof, i adduce the following extract from dr hooker's inaugural lecture at norwich in , (since the publication of mr max müller's work):-- "it is a curious fact that the khasian word for a stone, 'man,' as commonly occurs in the names of their villages and places as that of man, maen, and men does in those of brittany, wales, cornwall, &c.; thus mansmai signifies in khasia the stone of oath; manloo, the stone of salt; manflong, the grassy stone; and just as in wales pen mæn maur signifies the hill of the big stone; and in britanny a menhir is a standing stone, and a dolmen a table stone," &c.[ ] [ ] let the significance of the following coincidence be considered in connection with the evidence at p. , boulanger, "ces fêtes (atheniasmes, 'anthisteries') avoient pour objet une commémoration (of the deluge) et l'on en _attribuoit la fondation à deucalion_; elles étoient _aussi_ consacrées à _bacchus_, ce qui les a fait nommés les _anciennes_ ou les _grandes bacchanales_."--comp. ch. xi. p. , also _supra_, . [ ] it is the fashion to deride bryant's etymology, and no doubt he did not write in the light of modern science; but i find ("mythology," iii. ) that he had already given this information. "_main_, from whence _moenia_, signified in the primitive language a stone, or stones, and also a building." here it is seen that the word for stone in these respective places is the same with our word "man;" it is not specifically said that the word would carry this sense also in the places indicated, but i infer it from the analogy which runs through _homo_, _homme_, and by a connection of ideas through the greek [greek: ômos] to the sanscrit--thus "âma-ad" ([greek: ômos-edô]), are names applied "in the sanscrit" to "barbarians" who are cannibals. (max müller, ii. p. .) and i am not sure that mr max müller does not say so directly, in reference to the word "brahman," for although the word originally is said to mean _power_ (i. ), yet "another word with the accent on the last syllable, is _brahmán_, the _man_ who prays."--_max müller_, i. .[ ] also kenrick ("essay on primæval history," p. ), "thus the hindus attribute the origin of their institutions and race to manu, whose name is equivalent to _man_. the germans made tuisto (teutsch) and his son mannus to be the origin and founder of their nation." also sir w. jones' "asiat. res." i. ; rawlinson's "bamp. lect." lect. ii. :--"from _manu_ the earth was re-peopled, and from him _man_kind received their name _manudsha_." gainet (i. ) says:--"the stones changed then into men by deucalion and pyrrha, are they not their children according to nature? in syriac the word 'eben' signifies equally a child and a stone. in spite of these confusions their accounts of the deluge are striking as well on account of their resemblance, as on account of their universality, as the reader will soon be able to convince himself."--_vide gainet_, i. .[ ] [ ] mr max müller, in his "lectures on the science of language," first series, says of "man":--"the latin word 'homo,' the french 'l'homme' ... is derived from the same root, which we have in 'humus,' soil, 'humilis,' humble. homo, therefore, would express the idea of being made of the dust of the earth.... there is a third name for man.... 'ma,' in the sanscrit, means to measure.... 'man,' a derivative root, means to think. from this we have the sanscrit 'manu,' originally thinker, then man. in the later sanscrit we find derivations such as 'mânava, mânasha, manushya,' all expressing man. in gothic we find both '_man_,' and 'maunisk,' the modern german 'maun,' and 'mensch.' there were many more names for man, as there were many names for all things in ancient language." as an instance of the correspondence of old egyptian and welsh, bunsen's "philosophy of univ. hist.," i. , gives "egyptian, 'man' = rockstone; welsh, 'maen;' irish, 'main' (coll. latin, 'moenia;' hebrew, 'e-ben')." and (p. ) bunsen says--"the divine mannus, the ancestor of the germans, _is absolutely identical_ with manus, who, according to ancient indian mythology, is the god who created man anew after the deluge, _just as deucalion did_." [ ] the _saturday review_, nov. , (reviewing "the indian tribes of guiana," by the rev. w. brett), says of the indian traditions:--"the 'old people's stories' of the creation and the deluge are highly characteristic.... under the rule of sigu, son of maikonaima, the tree of life was planted, in whose stem were pent up the whole of the waters which were to be let forth by measure to stock every river and lake with fish. twarrika, the mischievous monkey, forced open the magic cover which kept down the waters, and the next minute was swept away with _all things living_ by the bursting flood. _the re-peopling_ of the world, as described by the tamanacs of the orinoco _recalls the legend of deucalion_. one man and one woman took refuge on the mountain tama_nacu_. _they then threw over their heads_ the fruits of the mauritia (or ita) palm, from the _kernel_ of which sprang men and women who once more peopled the earth." but if the whole human race were re-propagated by deucalion and pyrrha, how are we to locate the _anterior_ legend of ogyges, occurring among the same people? it is barely possible that the memory of a long antecedent and partial deluge may have remained in the memories of the survivors of the subsequent and universal calamity, but the much more reasonable conjecture seems to be that it was by a different channel the reminiscence of the same event. it must be remembered that it was the ogygian deluge which was said to have been partial and to have inundated attica. the deluge of deucalion by all accounts, except by pindar, was considered to have been universal, and corresponds in its details with mosaic accounts, _e.g._ it was universal, covering the tops of the highest mountains; it was caused by the depravity of mankind; the single pair who were saved, were saved in a ship or an ark, and floated many days on the waters. in the end, they settled on the top of a mountain, went to consult the oracle (as noah is said to have sacrificed and to have had communications with god), and re-peopled the earth. the version of lucian gives particulars which brings the tradition to almost exact correspondence. deucalion and his wife were saved (on account of their rectitude and piety) together with his sons and their wives. he was accompanied into the ark by the pigs, horses, lions, and serpents, who came to him in pairs. if the account of lucian is somewhat recent, on the other hand it is the account of a professed scoffer, and moreover, shows what i do not remember to have seen noted from this point of view that the tradition was common to syria as well as greece. this brings us to the contrary, but, as it appears to me, much less formidable objection--bearing in mind that the tradition of the deluge is common to mexico, india, china, the islands of the pacific, &c. &c.--viz. that the tradition came to greece from asia. this is mr kenrick's objection[ ] (_vide_ preface to grote's "history of greece," d ed.) the most direct, and, as it appears to me, sufficient answer, seems to be that it was necessarily so; since, _ex hypothesi_, the population itself came to greece from asia. mr kenrick says, "it is doubtful whether the tradition of deucalion's flood is older than the time when the intercourse with greece began to be frequent," _i.e._ about the fifth century b.c. (p. .) but as the septuagint, according to mr kenrick himself, could not have influenced greece till the third century, this tradition can only have been the primeval tradition. mr kenrick is a fair opponent, and i must do him the justice to add that he repudiates the voltairean suggestion that this tradition originated in a hebrew invention. if then the inhabitants of greece, who came originally from asia, had not the tradition, or had it imperfectly, when they arrived, it can only have been because they had lost it; but as admittedly they recovered it at a later period, the presumption, even on this showing, is, at least for those who can realise how difficult it would be to make a pure fiction, as distinguished from a corrupt tradition, run current, more especially among different nationalities and during a lengthened period,--that when circumstances brought them again into contact with asia, they added fresh incidents, only because they found the tradition fresher there than among themselves. _voila tout!_ for mr kenrick's whole argument depends entirely upon this--that "as we reach the time when the greeks enjoyed more extensive and leisurely communication with asia, through the conquests of alexander ... we find new circumstances introduced into the story which assimilates it more closely to the asiatic tradition." [ ] "essay on primæval history." it has been allowed (_vide supra_) that the tradition of deucalion is as old as the fifth century b.c., and, not to speak of the deluge of ogyges, connected with what was earliest in grecian history, the following passage from kenrick seems to me in evidence of long antecedent traditions among the greeks themselves, which they must have brought with them originally from asia.[ ] [ ] "according to the calculations of varro, the deluge of ogyges occurred years before inachus, _i.e._ years before the first olympiad, which would bring it to years before the christian era; now, according to the hebrew text, the deluge of noah took place b.c., which makes only a difference of years. it is true that many other authors have reconciled these epochs." hesiod and homer are silent on the subject of both deucalion and ogyges.... "it results from these considerations that the traditions of the ancient nations of the world confirm the narrative of genesis, _not only_ as to the existence, but even as to the _epoch_, of this catastrophe as fixed by moses. mersius (_apud_ gronovium, iv. ) cites more than twenty ancient authors who speak of ogyges as appertaining in their eyes to what was _most primitive_ in greece. he is son of neptune. he is the first founder of the kingdom of thebes. servius represents him _as coming immediately after saturn and the golden age_ [which directly connects noah with saturn, and the golden age with noah]. hesychius says of ogyges that he represented all that was most ancient in greece. that, indeed, passed into a proverb; they said, 'old as ogyges,' as if they said, 'old as adam'" (gainet, i. ). mr kenrick says (p. ):-- "the account of deucalion, given by apollodorus (i. , ), bears evident marks of being compounded of two fables originally distinct, in one of which, and probably the older, the descent of the hellenes was traced through deucalion to prometheus and pandora, without mention of a deluge. in the other, the destruction of the brazen race by a flood, the re-peopling the earth by the casting of stones, is related in the common way. that these two narratives cannot originally have belonged to the same myths is evident from their incongruity; for as mankind were created by prometheus, the father of deucalion, there was no time for them to have passed through those stages of degeneracy by which they reached the depravity of the brazen age." here are evidently two early traditions, ostensibly greek, distinct, it is true, yet perfectly compatible. the one the tradition of grecian descent through noah to adam and eve, the other the tradition of the deluge. but after what we have already seen (_vide supra_, pp. , ) of reduplications and inversions, can a serious argument be based upon the expression that deucalion (noah) was the son of prometheus (adam)?[ ] is it not a most natural and inevitable _façon-de-parler_ to connect the descendant directly and immediately with his remote ancestor, _e.g._ "fils de st louis--fils de louis capet--montez au ciel!" [ ] in the same way we find "mentuhotep," or "sesortasen i." named, "when all other ancestors are omitted, as the sole connecting link between amosis (xviii. dynasty) and menes." _vide_ palmer's "egyptian chronicles," i. . so, too, are fohi (whom i believe to be adam) and shin-nong (noah) connected and linked together in chinese chronology. "i. fohi the great brilliant (tai-hao), cultivation of _astronomy_ and religion as well as _writing_. he reigned years. then came fifteen reigns. ii. shin-nong (divine _husbandman_). institution of _agriculture_ [compare _ante_, ch. x.] the knowledge of simples applied as the art of medicine."--bunsen's "egypt," iii. , chap. on chinese chronology. _vide ante_, ; chap. on tradition, p. ; prometheus. i do not of course attempt, within this narrow compass, to grasp mr kenrick's entire view. i am merely dealing with the special argument; but it is curious to note how the line of reasoning adopted by mr kenrick, whilst it sustains the greek traditions, as traditions (though not greek), unconsciously neutralises the arguments which would dispose of the testimonies derived from them, by saying that they were not traditions of a general, but of a local and a partial deluge. these latter arguments appear to have had weight with one against whom i hardly venture to run counter, frederick schlegel ("phil. of hist." p. )--"the irruption of the black sea into the thracian bosphorus is regarded by very competent judges in such matters as an event perfectly historical, or at least, from its proximity to the historical times, as not comparatively of so primitive a date." compare with passage from mr kenrick.[ ] schlegel adds:--"all these great physical changes are not necessarily and exclusively to be ascribed to the last general deluge. the presumed irruption of the mediterranean into the ocean, as well as many other mere partial revolutions in the earth and sea, may have occurred much later, and quite apart from this great event" (p. ). but it may also have occurred much _earlier_, as is clear from the following passage from schlegel, to which i wish to direct the attention of geologists, and in which schlegel speaks according to the original insight of his own mind, and not in deference to the opinions of others:-- "these words ('the earth was without form and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep; but the spirit of god moved upon the face of the waters,' gen. x.), which announce the presage of a new morn of creation, not only represent a darker and wilder state of the globe, but very clearly show the element of water to be still in predominant force. even the division of the elements, of the waters above the firmament, and of the waters below it, on the second day of creation, the permanent limitation of the sea for the formation and visible appearance of the dry land, necessarily imply a mighty revolution in the earth, and afford additional proof that the mosaic history speaks not only of one but of many catastrophes of nature, _a circumstance that has not been near enough attended to in the geological interpretation and illustration of the bible_."--_schlegel_, p. . [ ] kenrick (p. ) says:--"the fact of traces of the action of water at a higher level in ancient times on these shores is unquestionable; under the name of _raised beaches_ such phenomena are familiar to geologists on many coasts; but that the tradition (in samothrace) was produced by _speculation_ on its _cause_, not by an obscure recollection of its _occurrence_, is also clear; for it has been shown by physical proofs that a discharge of the waters of the euxine (black sea) would not cause such a deluge as _the tradition supposed_" (cuvier, disc. sur les revolutions du globe, ed. ). if these speculations were made at the commencement of grecian history, and the speculations had reference to evidence of diluvian disruption along the highway by which they passed into greece, should we not expect that theories of the violent rather than the gentler and gradual action of water would dominate in their geological tradition? colonel george greenwood, in "rain and rivers," p. , says on the contrary--("with reference to the theory that valleys are formed by 'rain and rivers'")--"there is, perhaps, no creed of man which, like this, can be traced up to the most remote antiquity, and traced down from the most remote antiquity to the present day. lyell has himself quoted pythagoras for it, through the medium of ovid:-- 'eluvie mons est deductus in æquor quodquo fuit campus _vallem decursus aquarum_ fecit.' but pythagoras only enunciates the doctrine of eastern antiquity; that is, of the egyptians, the chaldæans, and the hindoos. but since pythagoras introduced this doctrine in the west, if it has ever slumbered, it has perpetually _re_-originated. lyell shows that among the greeks it was taught by aristotle; among the romans by strabo; among the saracens by avicenna; in italy by moro, geneselli, and targioni; and in england by ray, hutton, and playfair."--_rain and rivers_, by col. george greenwood. longmans, . d edit. the point that is material to this discussion is to decide whether or not those disruptions in thrace are historical and subsequent to the deluge. now, here mr kenrick's main theory, that "speculation is the source of tradition," comes in with fatal effect to dispose of the arguments i am combating, and yet in no way at this point militates against the view i am urging, that these supposed inundations were localisations of the tradition of the general deluge which the pelasgi brought with them from asia. mr kenrick says (p. ):-- "it was a [greek: logos], a popular legend, among the greeks, that thessaly had once been a lake, and that neptune had opened a passage for the waters through the vale of tempe (herod. , ). the occupation of the banks of the rivers of this district by the pelasgi tribes, which must have been _subsequent_ to the opening of the gorge, is the _earliest_ fact in greek history, and the 'logos' itself no doubt originated in a very simple speculation. the sight of a narrow gorge, the sole outlet of the waters of a whole district, naturally suggests the idea of its having once been closed, and, as the necessary consequence, the inundation of the whole region which it now serves to drain." now, if this reasoning is just, it seems to establish two things pretty conclusively: first, that the current legend among the greeks was _not_ the tradition of a local deluge; but, if not a reminiscence, was at any rate the observation of the evidences of a deluge previous to their arrival. moreover, the deluge of their tradition exceeding the actual facts is in evidence of their recollection of an event adequate to such effects. second, that the tradition, if it arose out of a speculation, must have arisen out of a speculation made in the earliest commencement of greek history. it is difficult to reconcile the latter conclusion with mr kenrick's view that the tradition was imported from asia in the fifth century b.c. it is impossible to reconcile the former with the acceptation of a local and historical inundation in the time of the ogyges and deucalion of popular history. this digression on the legend of deucalion has led me away from what is properly the subject-matter of this inquiry; and i therefore propose now to summarise the results of the last two chapters. to pursue the tradition of noah in all its ramifications would extend the inquiry beyond the scope which is necessary for the purposes of my argument. it will have been seen, i think, that my object has not been merely antiquarian research. i have sought to bring into prominence the reminiscences of noah, which recall him at any rate as the depository of the traditions, if not the expositor of the science of mankind, as the channel, if not the fountain-head, of law, which thus became the law of nations--as the intermediary through whom the communications of the most high passed to mankind, and under whose authority mankind held together during some three hundred years.[ ] [ ] gen. vi. ; viii. ; vi. ; ix. ; viii. ; ix. ; and ecclesiasticus xliv. , , , , "the covenants of the world were made with him." let me collect more directly and more fully the epithets in this sense which are dispersed in the above traditions. we have seen that calmet properly identifies saturn with noah; that according to virgil and plutarch "under saturn was the golden age;" saturn of whom hesiod says:--"him of mazy counsel, saturn;" that in the tradition, as we see it in virgil, he is described as bringing his scattered people into social life, and the noticeable phrase is used _legesque dedit_;[ ] that in bacchus, directly connected with saturn through the _saturnalia_, we also see much in his characteristics in common with saturn, all which equally identifies him with noah; and bacchus, as we are told by cicero, was the author of the "laws called subazian."[ ] in janus, too, we find great resemblances to saturn, and in the very respects which would identify him with noah. under janus as under saturn was the golden age, and it is added that in the time of janus, "all families were full of religion and holiness," and although his rule is described as singularly peaceful, he is called quirinus and martialis, as presiding over war. the closing and opening of his temple, too, had a conspicuous and direct connection with peace and war. [ ] i feel justified in bringing in attestation also the following verses of the "oracula sybillina," for, as i have already said, even if they be forgeries of the second century a.d., they at any rate represent the tradition at that date (i. v. ):-- "noë fidelis amans æqui servata periclis egredere audenter, simul et cum conjuge nati tresque nurus: et vos terræ loca vasta replete, crescite multiplice numero, _sacrataque jura tradite_ natorum natis.... hinc nova progenies hinc _ætas aurea_ prima exorta est hominum.... ... ast illo se tempore regia primum imperia ostendent terris quum _foedere facto_ tres justi reges, divisis partibus æquis, _sceptra_ diu populis imponent _sanctaque tradent jura_ viris."... compare also the following verses (orac. sybil, i. ) with the vedic tradition (_infra_, p. ) of the promise made to satiavrata, and the babylonian tradition respecting hoa (_infra_): "... collige, noë, tuas vires ... ... si scieris me divinæ te nulla rei secreta latebunt." [ ] i only instance this as evidence that laws of some sort were attributed to bacchus, whom the traditions also speak of as king of asia: to judge of these laws by what we know of the subazian mysteries, would be as if we were to form our opinion of the mandan ceremonies (_vide infra_, ch. xi.) by the last day's orgies only. in this matter we may say with cicero, _de legibus_, ii. --"omnia tum perditorum civium scelere ... religionum jura polluta sunt." if we turn back to the mythological prototypes in assyria we find him as hoa in connection with "the mystic animal, half-man half-fish, which came up from the persian gulf to teach astronomy and letters to the first settlers on the euphrates and tigris," himself "known to the first settlers;" he is called "the intelligent guide, or, according to another interpretation, the intelligent fish," "the teacher of mankind," "the lord of understanding;" "one of his emblems is the wedge or arrow-head, the essential emblem of cuneiform writing, which seems to be assigned to him as the inventor, or at least the patron of the chaldæan alphabet." in the vedic tradition as satiavrata (_vide_ rawlinson's "bampton lect.," lect. ii. ), having been saved "from the destroying waves" in "a large vessel" sent from heaven for his use--which he entered accompanied "by pairs of all brute animals"--he is thus addressed, "then shalt thou know my true greatness, rightly named the supreme godhead; by my favour all thy questions _shall be answered_ and thy mind abundantly instructed;" and it is added that "after the deluge had abated," satiavrata was "instructed in all _human_ and _divine_ knowledge." in fine, if we recognise him as hoa, we shall find his benefactions to mankind thus summed up in berosus. (_vide_ the original in rawlinson's "ancient monarchies," i. .)[ ] [ ] layard ("nineveh and babylon," p. ) says, "we can scarcely hesitate to identify this mythic form (at kosyundik) with the oannes or sacred man-fish, who, according to the traditions preserved by berosus, issued from the _erethræan_ sea, instructed the _chaldæans_ in all wisdom, in the sciences and the fine arts, and was _afterwards_ worshipped as a god in the temples of babylonia.... five such monsters rose from the persian gulf at fabulous intervals of time (cory's "fragments," p. ). it has been conjectured that this myth denotes the conquest of chaldæa at some remote and pre-historic period by a comparatively civilised nation coming in ships to the mouth of the euphrates.... the _dagon_ of the philistines and of the inhabitants of the phoenician coast was worshipped, according to the united opinion of the hebrew commentators on the bible, under _the same form_." the five apparitions at long intervals may have been the confusion of the previous revelations to the patriarchs with those made to noah--or they may be reduplications (_vide supra_, p. ). "he is said to have transmitted to mankind the knowledge of grammar and mathematics, and of all the arts, of the polity of cities, the construction and dedication of temples, _the introduction of laws_ ([greek: kai nomôn eisêgêseis]); to have taught them geometry, and to have shown them _by example_ the modes of _sowing the seed_ and gathering the _fruits of the earth_," [the "vir agricola" of genesis], and along with them to have tradited all the secrets which tend to humanise life. and no one else at that time was found more super-eminent than he."--_vide_ rawlinson, i. . we have seen that he was known to "the first settlers on the euphrates and tigris." the abbé de tressan says, berosus begins his history with these words:--"_in the first year_ appeared this extraordinary man" (oannes). now, with "the early settlers" on the euphrates and tigris the commencement of all things would have been naturally dated from the deluge. it appears to me worth while, in conclusion, to place more succinctly before the reader the _identical_ terms in which the ancients (various authors) spoke of the first founders of states or their earliest progenitor--compelling the conclusion that allusion was made to one and the same individual and epoch. bryant ("myth." ii. ) says that noah was represented as thoth, hermes, menes, osiris, zeuth, atlas, phoroneus, and prometheus, &c. &c. "there are none wherein his history is delineated more plainly, than in those of saturn and janus." these i will now omit, as we have just seen them to be identical--and so too bacchus, who equally with them plants the vine, teaches them to sow, and gives them laws. _phoroneus_, "an ancient poet quoted by clemens alex. (i. ) calls him the first of mortals, [greek: phyroneus patêr thnêtôn anthrôpôn]." the first deluge took place under phoroneus: "he was also the first who _built_ an altar. he first collected men together and formed them into petty communities."--pausanias, lib. , . he first gave laws and distributed justice.--syncellus, , . they ascribed to him the distribution of mankind, "idem nationes distribuit" (hyginus' fab. ), "which is a circumstance very remarkable." _poseidon's_ epithets connected with the ark are very striking (bryant, ii. , _deucalion, vide ante_, p. ); but he is also said (apollon. rhod. lib. , v. ) to have been "the first man through whom religious rites were renewed, cities built, and civil polity established in the world." _cecrops_ (_vide ante_, p. ), the identical terms are used. _myrmidon_, "a person of great justice." "he is said to have collected people together, humanised mankind, enacted laws, and first established civil polity."--scholia in pindar, ode , v. . _cadmus, vide ante_, p. . _pelasgus_ also is described as equally a benefactor to mankind, and instructed them in many arts.--pausanias, , . he is said to have built the first temple to the deity "ædem jovi olympis primum fecit pelasgus."--hyginus' fab. , . bryant says, "i have taken notice that as noah was said to have been [greek: hanthrôpos gês]," a man of the earth--this characteristic is observable in every history of the primitive persons; and they are represented as '[greek: nomioi],' '[greek: agrioi]', and '[greek: gêgeneis].' pelasgus accordingly had this title (Æschy. "supplicants," v. ), and it is particularly mentioned of him that he _was the first_ husbandman. pelasgus first found out all that is necessary for the cultivation of the ground."--schol. in eurip. "orestes," v. . _osiris._--the account of osiris in diodorus siculus is exactly similar. he travels into all countries like bacchus. he builds cities; and although represented as at the head of an army, is described with the muses and sciences in his retinue. in every region he instructed the people in planting, sowing, and other useful acts.--tibullus, i. e. , v. . he particularly introduced the vine, and when that was not adapted to the soil, the use of ferment and wine of barley. he first built temples, and was a lawgiver and king (diod. sic.).--bryant, ii. . _chin-nong_ (_vide_ also bunsen, _supra_, p. ) "was a husbandman, and taught the chinese agriculture, &c., discovered the virtues of many plants. he was represented with the _head of an ox_, and sometimes only with two horns."--comp. bryant, iii. . _manco capac._--peru, _vide infra_, ch. xiii.; very curious. strabo, , , says of the turditani in spain (iberia), "they are well acquainted with grammar, and have many written records of high antiquity. they have also large collections of poetry (comp. ch. vii.), and _even their laws_ are described in verse, which they say is of six thousand years standing." _deucalion_, according to lucian, was saved from the deluge on account of his wisdom and piety--"[greek: eubouliês te kai euebiês heineka]." [[greek: euboulia]--literally, "good counsel."] _mercury_ gave egypt its laws--"atque egyptiis leges et literas tradidisse."--cicero, "de natura deorum," iii. . _apollo._--cicero says the fourth apollo gave laws to the _arcadians_ (comp. _infra_, p. ): "quem arcades [greek: nomion] appellant, quod ab eo se leges ferunt accepisse," id. iii. ; _vide_ also plato, "leges," i. . chapter xi. _diluvian traditions in africa and america._ boulanger ( - ), a freethinker, and the friend and correspondent of voltaire, was so dominated by his belief in the universal deluge as a fact, that he made its consequences the foundation of all his theories. writing in the midst of a scepticism very much resembling that of the present day, he says, "what! you believe in the deluge?" such will be the exclamation of a certain school of opinion, and this school a very large one. nevertheless, this profound writer, by the exigencies of his theory, was irresistibly brought to the recognition of the fact. "we must take," he continues, "a fact in the traditions of mankind, the truth of which shall be universally recognised. what is it? i do not see any, of which the evidence is more generally attested, than those which have transmitted to us that famous physical revolution which, they tell us, has altered the face of our globe, and which has occasioned a total renovation of human society: in a word, the deluge appears to me the true starting-point (_la veritable epoque_) in the history of nations. not only is the tradition which has transmitted this fact the most ancient of all, but it is moreover clear and intelligible; it presents a fact which can be justified and confirmed." he proceeds, and the drift and animus of the writer will be sufficiently apparent in the passage--"it is then by the deluge that the history of the existing nations and societies has commenced. if there have been false and pernicious religions in the world it is to the deluge that i trace them back as to their source; if doctrines inimical to society have been broached, i see their principles in the consequences of the deluge; if there have existed vicious legislations and innumerable bad governments, it will be upon the deluge that i lay the charge." it is, then, only in attestation of the fact that i adduce this author; and in his proof he has accumulated a large mass of indirect evidence, which a certain school of opinion find it convenient altogether to ignore in reference to this subject. in this class are the various institutions among different nations to preserve the memory of the deluge, as for instance, the "hydrophories ou la fête du deluge à athenes," and at Ægina, the feast of the goddess of syria at hierapolis, both having strange resemblances with the jewish feasts of "nisue ha mâim, or the effusion of waters," and the tabernacles, in their traditional aspects, _i.e._ in their observances _not_ commanded by moses; the "effusion des eaux a ithome ... et de siloe;" the feast of the deluge (of inachus) at argos; a feast, the effusion of water, in persia, anterior to its mahometanism; similar festivals in pegu, china, and japan; in the mysteries of eleusis; in the "peloria," "anthisteria," and "_saturnalia_;" and finally in the pilgrimages to rivers in india[ ] and other parts of the world; "of the multitude of traditions preserved in the diluvian festivals and commemorative usages of the gulphs, apertures, and abysses which have at one time or another vomited forth or absorbed waters" (i. ); again, the pilgrimages to the summits of mountains in india, china, tartary, the caucasus,[ ] peru, &c. "it is easy to see," he adds (p. ), "that this veneration is based upon a corrupted tradition, which has taught these people that their fathers formerly took refuge on the top of this mountain at the time of the deluge, and subsequently descended from it to inhabit the plains." [ ] dionysius periegesis says the women of the british amnitæ celebrated the rites of dionysos:-- "as the bistonians on apsinthus banks shout to the clamorous eiraphiates; or as the indians on dark-rolling ganges hold revels to dionysos the noisy, so do the british women shout evoë." (v. .) (_qy_. enoë.) _vide_ "the bhilsa topes," by major a. cunningham, p. . [ ] i would specially draw attention to the instances of temples constructed upon the model of ships, concerning which _vide_ bryant's "mythology," ii. , , , ; and compare with plate xviii. in montfauçon, ii. i shall have occasion to refer again more in detail to some of these customs[ ] when drawing attention to the resemblances which i shall presently point out; but i wish previously to give, more _in extenso_, his description of the hydrophoria at athens:-- "this name denoted the custom which the athenians had on the day of this feast of carrying water in ewers and vases with great ceremony; in memory of the deluge, they proceeded each year to pour this water into an opening or gulf, which was found near the temple of jupiter olympus, and on this occasion they recalled the sad memory of their ancestors having been submerged. this ceremony is simple and very suitable to its subject; it was well calculated to perpetuate the memory of the catastrophe caused by the waters of the deluge. superstition added some other customs.... they threw into the same gulf cakes of corn and honey; it was an offering to appease the infernal deities.... the greeks placed it in the rank of their unlucky days (also 'un jour triste et lugubre'); and thus they remarked that sylla had taken their city of athens the very day that they had made this commemoration of the deluge. superstition observes everything, not to correct itself, but to confirm itself more and more in its errors. it was, according to the fable, by the opening of this gulf that the waters which had covered attica had disappeared; it was also said that deucalion had raised near to this place an altar which he had dedicated to jove the preserver. 'tradition also attributed to deucalion the temple of jupiter olympus,' in which these mournful ceremonies were performed. 'this temple was celebrated and respected by the pagan nations as far as we can trace history back.' it was reconstructed on a scale of magnificence by pisistratus; every town and prince in greece contributed to its adornment; it was completed by the emperor adrian in of our era. the antiquity of this monument, the respect which all nations have shown it, and the character of the traditions which they have of its origin, ought to establish for the festival of the hydrophoria a great antiquity. the feasts, in general, are more ancient than the temples."--_boulanger_, i. - . [ ] compare bryant. i will now ask the reader, if he has not read (and seen the illustrations in) mr catlin's "o-kee-pa,"[ ] to compare the following extract with the preceding:-- "the o-kee-pa, an annual ceremony to the strict observance of which those ignorant and superstitious people attributed not only their enjoyment in life but their very existence; for traditions, their only history, instructed them in the belief that the singular forms of this ceremony produced the buffaloes for their supply of food, and that the omission of this annual ceremony, _with its sacrifices to the waters_, would bring upon them a repetition of _the calamity_ which their traditions say once befell them, destroying _the whole human race_ excepting one man, who landed from his canoe on a high mountain in the west.[ ] this tradition, however, was not peculiar to the mandan tribe, for among one hundred and twenty different tribes that i have visited in north, south, and central america, not a tribe exists that has not related to me distinct or vague traditions of such a calamity in which one or three or _eight_ persons were saved above the waters on the top of a high mountain. some of them, at the base of the rocky mountains, and in the plains of venezuela and the pampa del sacramento in south america, _make annual pilgrimages_ to the _fancied summits_ where the antediluvian species were saved in canoes or otherwise, and under the mysterious regulations of their medicine (mystery) men tender their prayers and sacrifices to the great spirit to ensure their exemption from a similar catastrophe."--p. . [ ] "o-kee-pa, a religious ceremony, and other customs of the mandans," trübner & co. london, . mr catlin's statements are attested by the certificates of three educated and intelligent men who witnessed the ceremonies with him, and is further corroborated by a letter addressed to mr catlin by prince maximilian of neuwied, the celebrated traveller among the north american indians, who had previously referred to them (he spent a winter among the mandans). [ ] i read in the _times_, march , , that "the american papers state that workmen in iowa, excavating for the projected dubuque and minnesota railroad, in the limestone at the foot of a bluff, discovered recently _some caves and rock chambers_, and, on raising a foot slab, a vault filled with human skeletons of unusual size, the largest being seven feet eight inches high. a figured sun on the walls is taken as indicating that the skeletons belonged to a people who worshipped that luminary [compare _supra_, p. ] _and the representation of a man with a dove stepping out of a boat_, as an allusion to a tradition of the deluge. the fingers of the largest skeleton clasped a pearl ornament, and traces of cloth were found crumbled at the feet of the remains. many copper implements were found, and it is thought that the lake superior mines may have been worked at an early period. the remains were to be removed to the iowa institute of arts and sciences at dubuque." yet, strange to say, this is _no_ proof to mr catlin of the universal deluge recorded in scripture. "if," he says, "it were shown that inspired history of the deluge and of the creation restricted those events to one continent alone, then it might be that the american races came from the eastern continent, bringing these traditions with them, for until that is proved, the american traditions of the deluge are no evidence whatever of an eastern origin. if it were so, and the aborigines of america brought their traditions of the deluge from the east, why did they not bring inspired history of the creation?"[ ]--p. . (_vide_ pp. , .) [ ] compare account of mandan tradition of the creation, from "hist. des ceremonies religieuses," _supra_, p. . the "o-kee-pa," mr catlin says, "was a strictly religious ceremony, ... with the solemnity of religious worship, with abstinence, with sacrifices, with prayer; whilst there were three other distinct and ostensible objects for which it was held,-- . as an annual celebration of the '_subsiding of the waters_' of the deluge. . for the purpose of dancing what they call the bull-dance, to the strict performance of which they attributed the coming of buffaloes. . for purpose of conducting the young men through _an ordeal of privation and bodily torture_, which, while it was supposed to harden their muscles and prepare them for extreme endurance, enabled their chiefs ... to decide upon their comparative bodily strength, endurance," &c.--p. . the torture no doubt subserved this subsidiary purpose, but it appears to me that the original intention and idea was torture for the purpose of expiation, as in the ceremonies in ancient greece.[ ] sundry incidents narrated by catlin seem to establish this. they prepare themselves by fasting (p. ); after having sunk under the infliction of these horrible tortures (and from every point of view they are truly horrible), "no one was allowed to offer them aid when they lay in this condition. they were here enjoying their inestimable privilege of voluntarily intrusting their lives to the keeping of the great spirit, and chose to remain there until the great spirit gave them strength to get up and walk away" (p. ); and when so far recovered, "in each instance" they presented the little finger of the left hand, and some also the forefinger of the same hand and the little finger of the right hand (all tending to make them _pro tanto_ inefficient warriors) "as an offering to the great spirit, as a sacrifice for having listened to their prayers, and protected their lives in what they had just gone through" (p. ). [ ] _supra_, p. . these tortures have their exact counterpart in india, _e.g._ the ceremony of the _pota_ (compare sanscrit, "pota" = boat), thus described by hunter ("rural bengal," , p. ):--"pota (hook-swinging), now stopped by government, but still practised ( ) among the northern santals [who have the distinct tradition of the deluge and dispersion referred to, _supra_] in _april or may_. lasted about one month. young men used to swing with hooks through their back [as seen in catlin's illustrations], as in the charak puja of the hindus. the swingers used _to fast_ the day preceding and the day following the operation, and to sleep the intermediate night on thorns." "on pleuroit et l'on s'attristoit dans les fêtes _les plus gayes et plus dissolues_; les cultes d'isis et d'osiris, ainsi que ceux _de bacchus_, de céres, d'adonis, d'atys, &c., étoient _accompagnés de macérations et de larmes_."--_boulanger_, iii. . for the description of the _bull_-dance,[ ] and for the subsequent history and final extinction of the mandans, i must refer my readers to mr catlin's valuable testimony to the truth of scripture, and important contributions to ethnological science. [ ] bryant ("myth." ii. ) says, "there were many arkite" (_i.e._ commemorative of ark) "ceremonies in different parts of the world, which were generally styled _taurica_ sacra" (from taurus = _bull_). these mysteries were of old attended with acts of _great cruelty_. of these "i have given instances, taken from different parts of the world; from egypt, syria, cyprus, crete, and sicily." i shall now proceed to show analogies in what will be admitted to be most unlikely ground--in the king of dahome's celebrated "so-sin customs," described by captain richard burton. before, however, proceeding further, i must point out the following features in the ceremonies or customs as common to grecian and antique pagan; to the mandan (indian of north america), and to the tropical african.[ ] in the first place they are cyclical; they are all of a mournful character; all are interrupted at intervals by processions, dances, and songs of a traditional character; they all close in scenes of rejoicing or rather in bacchanalian (yet still traditionally [_vide_ page , note boulanger] bacchanalian) scenes of riot and debauchery. the duration of the festivals varies from three and four to five days; the days have fantastic names, which, although different, still in their very peculiarity, and also in the drift and meaning of the names so far as it can be gathered, are suggestive of a common origin, _e.g_. the first day of the anthesteria, at athens was called "[greek: pithoigia, apo tou pithous oigein]," "because they tapped their casks." the fourth day of the king of dahome's customs is named "so (horse) nan-wen (will break) _kan_ (rope) 'gbe (to-day)."--burton, ii. . one part of the mandan ceremony is called "mee-ne-ro-ka-ha-sha," or "the _settling down of the waters_," which name again closely corresponds to the ceremonies at athens and at hierapolis in syria (_ante_), where water was poured into the opening where the waters of the deluge were supposed to have disappeared. the fifth day of the dahome customs is named "minai afunfun khi uhun-jro men dadda gezo"="we go to the small mat tent under which the king sits."--burton, ii. . this approximates to the scene described by catlin (p. ) at the close of the bull-dance (fourth day), when "the master of ceremonies (corresponding to the king at dahome) cried out for all the dancers, musicians," and "the representatives of _animals_ and _birds_," "to gather again around him." he is described as coming out of the mystery lodge and collecting them round "the big canoe." [ ] let the following points of resemblance be noted also in the "panathenæa." the lesser, and it is supposed the annual festival, was celebrated on the th of thargelion, corresponding to the th may (compare catlin). every citizen contributed olive branches and an ox (_vide_ catlin) at the greater festival. "in the ceremonies without the city there was an engine built _in the form of a ship_, on purpose for this solemnity;" upon this the sacred garment of minerva "was hung in the manner of a _sail_," "the whole conveyed to the temple of _ceres elusinia_." "this procession was led by _old men_, together, as some say, with old women carrying _olive branches_ in their hands." "after them came the men of full age with shields and spears, being attended by the [greek: metoikoi], or sojourners, who carried _little boats_ as a token of their being foreigners, and were called on that account _boat-bearers_; then followed the women attended by the sojourner's wives, who were named [greek: hydriaphoroi], from _bearing water pots_."--compare burton, catlin. then followed select virgins, covered with millet, "called _basket-bearers_," the baskets containing necessaries for the celebration. "these virgins were attended by the sojourner's daughters, who carried _umbrellas_ (_vide_ pongol festival, appendix), _little seats_, whence they were called _seat-carriers_."--compare burton (_vide_ potter's "antiquities," i. .) compare also the following in the "dionysia" or festivals in honour of bacchus (_ante_, p. ) with catlin. "they carried thyrsi, _drums_, pipes, flutes, and _rattles_, and crowned themselves with garlands of _trees_ sacred to bacchus, ivy, vine, &c. some imitated silenus, pan, and the satyrs, exposing themselves in _comical dresses_ and antic motions;" and in this manner ran about the hills "invoking bacchus." "at athens this frantic rout was followed by persons carrying certain sacred vessels, the first of which was _filled with water_." bryant ("mythology," ii. ) speaking of egypt ("the priests of ammon who at _particular seasons_ used to carry in procession a boat," concerning which refer to page ), says--"part of the ceremony in most of the ancient mysteries consisted in carrying about a kind of ship or boat, which custom upon due examination will be found to relate to nothing else but noah and the deluge." he adds that the name of "the navicular shrines was _baris_, which is very remarkable; for it is the very name of the mountain, according to nicolaus damascenus, on which the ark of noah rested, the same as ararat in armenia." herodotus speaks of "_baris_" as the egyptian name of a ship, l. , ; eurip. "iphig. in aulis," v. ; Æschylus, persæ, ; lycophron, v. , refer to names of ships in connection with noah. _sup._, p. . query--is our word barge a corruption of baris? or perhaps of _baris_ in connection with "_argus_," also a term for the ark. (with reference to this etymology _vide_ my remark, p. , and d'anselme, p. , and bryant, ii. .) but the closest connection is in the nature and order of the ceremonies on the fourth day at dahome and among the mandans. among the latter, interrupting the bull-dance on that day, there is an apparition of "the evil spirit,"[ ] graphically described by mr catlin (p. ), and at dahome (burton, ii. ), there intervenes between the fourth and fifth days' ceremonies what is called "the evil night" (there are two "evil nights") which is the night of the horrible massacre. but on this night also, at the close of the fourth day's ceremonies among the mandans, the infliction of tortures (very horrible, but mild in comparison with the african butchery) commence. now, i have already ventured the opinion that these tortures were originally of an expiatory character, and this gains confirmation by the assurance made to captain r. burton that the victims on "the evil night" were only "criminals" and prisoners of war, the people of dahome, on all occasions (_vide infra_), preferring a vicarious mode of expiation. captain r. burton (ii. ) says of these massacres:--"the king takes no pleasure in the tortures and death or in the sight of blood, as will presently appear. the killed in one day, _the canoe_[ ] paddled in a pool of gore, and other grisly nursery tales, must be derived from whydah, where the slave-traders invented them, probably to deter englishmen from visiting the king. it is useless to go over the ground of human sacrifice from the days of the wild hindu's naramadha to the burnings of the druids, and to the awful massacres of peru and mexico. in europe the extinction of the custom _began_ from the time of the polite augustus," _i.e._ commenced with the advent of our lord. [_vide_ a reference to ms. of sir j. acton in mr gladstone's address to the university of edinburgh, , from which it would appear that the final extinction was not until the triumph of christianity.] [ ] compare the "bhain-sasur" or _buffalo_-demon at usayagiri, carrying a trident. _vide_ "the bhilsa tope," major alex. cunningham, . [ ] it is as well to note, however, that the dahomans have recently altered their customs. the one captain burton witnessed (ii. ) was a "mixed custom," and elsewhere allusion is made to "the new" ceremony. without carrying rashness to the excess of disputing the interpretation of dahoman words with captain burton, i may yet demur to accepting his explanation of the term "so-sin" (the "so-sin customs") _absolute et simpliciter_. he says (i. ), "the sogan ('so' = horse, 'gan' captain) opens the customs by taking all the chargers from their owners and by tying them up, whence the word _so-sin_. the animals must be redeemed in a few days with a bag of cowries."[ ] this is certainly a very likely definition, and although secondary, is no doubt the explanation current among the present generation of dahomans. all i shall venture to do is to supplement it. but may not the old and primitive idea still lurk in the name? at i. , i perceive captain burton says "so" and "sin" mean _water_,[ ] and the compound word "amma-sin" means "medicine" = "leaf-water," and again at the same word "sin" is twice used to signify liquid. if so, in the very name of the feast we find the word _water_, which links it into connection with "the mandan custom" and the festivals of ancient greece. [ ] analogies may perhaps be discovered in the representations of the procession escorting a relic casket on the architraves of the western gate at sanchi. (_vide_ "the bhilsa tope," by major alex. cunningham, p. .) "street of a city on the left, houses on each side filled with spectators,... a few horsemen heading a procession, ... immediately outside the gate are four persons bearing either trophies or some peculiar instruments of office. then follows a _led horse_, ... a soldier with a bell-shaped shield, two fifers, three _drummers_, and two men blowing _conches_. next comes the king on an elephant, carrying the holy relic casket on his head and supporting it with his right hand. then follows two peculiarly dressed men on horseback, perhaps prisoners. they wear a kind of cap (now only known in barmawar, on the upper course of the ravi) and boots or leggings. the procession is closed by two horsemen (one either the minister or a member of the royal family) and by an elephant with two riders." it may have had connection with the _as_warnedha or horse sacrifice (cunningham, p. .) boulanger (i. ) says, "that after the winter solstice the ancient inhabitants of india descended with their king to the banks of the indus; they there sacrificed _horses_ and _black bulls_, signs of a funeral ceremony; they then threw a bushel measure into the water without their assigning any reason for it." compare the throwing the cakes into the gulf at athens, and the hatchets into the water at the mandan custom. could it be that at the dahoman ceremony the horses were redeemed because the wretched victims were substituted, carrying out the idea of vicarious sacrifice and expiation? sir john lubbock ("origin of civilization," p. ) says, speaking of _water_ worship, "the kelpie or spirit of the _waters assumed_ various forms, those of a man, woman, _horse_, or _bull_ being the most common." compare _supra_, pp. , , , manou, bacchus. homer (hom. il., heynii, xxi. , lord derby, ), says-- "shall aught avail ye, though to him (the river scamander) in sacrifice, the blood of countless _bulls_ you pay, and living _horses_ in his waters sink;" and ( ) asteropoeus is called "river-born," because the son of pelegon, who "to broadly flowing axius owed his birth." remembering the belief of certain tribes of indians (supra, p. ) that they were "created under the water," which i have construed to mean, that they were created on the other side of the deluge, so we may take in a similar sense the traditions of these homeric heroes that they were "river-born;" and does the expression, son of pelegon (compare "son of prometheus," _supra_, p. ), imply more than that he was the descendant of phaleg, or, if not in the line of descent, the descendant of progenitors who had retained the tradition that phaleg was so called, "because in his days the earth was divided"?--gen. ch. x. . compare ancient welsh ballad (davies' "mythology of british druids," p. )-- "truly i was in the ship with dylan (deucalion), son of the sea.... when ... the floods came forth from heaven to the great deep." [ ] the name for _river_ in the chitral or little kashghar vocabulary (vigne, "travels in kashmir") is river = _sin_; also in the dangon, on the indus, voc. (_id._) river = _sin_; in the affghan (kalproth) the sea = _sin_d. _sind_hu is the sanscrit name for river (max müller, "science of lang.," st series, ); and has also its equivalent in ancient persian. in danish, river or lake = _so_; in icelandic, sjor (sjo); in bultistan, touh; german, see; english, sea; in kashmir, sar = marse; icelandic, saus. compare rivers saar, soane, seine, irish suir; perhaps also esk and usk (vigne, "trav. in kashmir"). horse = shtah, in bultistan. has not _so_ analogy with eau, augr (chittral), _water_? _sara_ = water in sanscrit (max müller, "chips," ii. ); sanscrit, vari, more generic term for water; latin, mare; gothic, marie; slavonic, more; irish and scotch, muir (_id._) compare chinese "ma" = horse; mongol, "mon" = horse; german, machre; english, _mare_. conclusion, either there is the same word for horse and water in certain languages, which may have occurred in the way of secondary derivation from these "mysteries," or if _so_ means water, then "so-sin" may only be a reduplication, as in the names of some of our rivers--_e.g._ dwfr-dwy = water, of deva = dee-river (_archæol. journal_, xvii. ). bryant ("myth." ii. ) says "the [greek: hippos], hippus (horse), alluded to in the early mythology was certainly a _float_ or _ship_, the same as the ceto." there is, moreover, the analogy in the latin of _aqua_ and _equus_. another sanscrit word for water, "ap" (max müller, sc. of l., ) has analogy with the greek [greek: hippos] = horse. it appears (sc. of l., nd series, p. ), that the tahitians have substituted the word "pape" for "vai" = water; but both words "pape," to _ap_, "vai," to _vari_, seem to have analogies to sanscrit as above. plato ("cratylus," c. , sc. of l., st series, p. ) mentions that the name for water was the same in phrygian and greek. at p. , st series, mr max müller says that persian harôya is the same as sanscrit saroya; which latter "is derived from a root 'sar' or 'sri,' to go, to run; from which 'saras,' water, 'sarit,' river, and 'sarayu,' the proper name of the river near oude." here at any rate in the sanskrit "sar," to run, we may, if the above conjecture is rejected, start the words "horse" and "water" from a common root. the word, "so" = horse, will therefore still remain, and may perhaps stand in the same relation to the "water" celebration, that the "bull" does to the mandan celebration of the deluge. captain burton, for instance, tells us (ii. ), a "so" was brought up to us (on the fourth day of the so-sin custom, and on the fourth day of the mandan custom "the bull-dance" was performed sixteen times round "the big canoe"); but i will place the two descriptions side by side. captain burton, ii. . "a 'so' was brought up to us, a _bull-face mask_ of natural size, painted black, with glaring eyes and _peep-holes_, the horns were hung with _red_ and _white_ rag _strips_, and beneath was a dress of bamboo fibre covering the feet, and ruddy at the ends. it danced with head on one side and swayed itself about, to the great amusement of the people." _vide_ also p. , "four tall men singularly dressed, and with bullocks' tails," &c. mr catlin, p. . "the chief actors in these strange scenes (bull-dance) were eight men, with the entire skins of buffaloes thrown over them, enabling them closely to imitate the appearance and motions of those animals, as the bodies were kept in as horizontal a position, the horns and tails of the animals remaining on the skins, and the skins of the animals' heads served as _masks_ through the eyes of which the _dancers were looking_." the legs of the dancers were painted _red_ and _white_" (plate .) if we might (on the strength of so many words of primary necessity being in common) connect "so" = horse, with the saxon "soc" or plough (as in the soc and service tenure), we could then see a way in which the same word might apply indifferently to ox or horse; and we would, moreover, see through the common relation to noah how the water ceremony came to be associated with the worship of ceres in the mysteries of eleusis. _vide_ boulanger, i. - .[ ] [ ] compare (klaproth, "mem. asiat." ii. )--eng. _ox_; mongol, char; hebrew, chor; french, charrue (plough.) klaproth, ii. , "les cheveux en thou khin (whom he identifies with the turks) portaient le nom de _sogo_ ou _so_ko; cest le même nom que le turc sâtch ou sadg." can it have affinity with chinese _sa_ (chinese szu = boeuf sauvage); german, säen; swedish, _sá_; french, semer; english = to _sou_; peruvian, sara = maize; also french, _cou_dre, to sow with english corn; sanscrit, go; high german, chus; sclavonic, _go_ws (max müller, "chips," ii. ); and kashmir and dongan, gau; icelandic, ku? in affghan a bull = _sak_hendar and _souk_handar. in the extinct tartar coman (_vide_ klaproth) ox = _ogus_ or _seger_ = turkish, okus; sanscrit, oukcha; german, ochse. plough = sanscrit, sinam; irish, serak; persian, siar. horse = _as_p, persian; _ess_, sclavonic = english _ass_; and in chittral on indus (_vide_ horse or bull used in ceremonies on banks of indus, _infra_) horse = _astor_. (has not _tor_ here affinity with _taur_eau.) corn = _as_lek (kirghish) and ashlyk (?) turkish. max müller (science of language, p. ), says--"aspa was the persian name for horse, and in the scythian names, aspabota, aspakara, and asparatha, we can hardly fail to recognise the same element." also, p. , "the comparison of ploughing and sowing is of frequent occurrence in ancient language." eng., plough; sclav., ploug = sanscrit, plava, ship = gk. [greek: ploion], ship. "in english dialects, plough is used as a waggon or conveyance. in the vale of blackmore, a waggon is called a plough, or plow, and _zull_ (a.-s., syl) is used for aratrum."--barnes, "dorset dialect," p. , ap. max müller. the above enumeration does not exhaust the points of resemblance. compare the following:-- burton, ii. . "conspicuous objects on the left of the pavilion were two ajalela or fetish pots made by the present king (according to the customs.) _vide_ note . both are lamp black, shaped like amphoræ (amphoræ, for holding wine) about feet high, and planted on tripods. the larger was solid, the smaller callendered with many small holes, and both were decorated with brass and silver crescents, stars, and similar ornaments. the second, when filled _with water and medicine_ allows none to escape, so great is its fetish power; an army guarded by it can never be defeated, and it will lead the way to absokuta." compare pongol ceremony, p. . catlin, p. . "in an open area in the centre of the village stands the ark or 'big canoe,' around which a great proportion of the ceremonies were performed. this rude symbol, of or feet in height, was constructed of planks and hoops, having somewhat the appearance of a large hogshead standing on its end, and containing some mysterious things, which none but the _medicine_ (mystery) men were allowed to examine." this must be considered in connection with the following. burton. in the opening procession of the third day's customs, captain burton tells us (ii. ), "first came a procession of eighteen tansi-no or fetish women, who have charge of the last monarch's grave.... they were preceded by bundles of matting, eight _large stools_, calabashes, pipes, _baskets_ of _water_, grog, and meat with segments of _gourd_ above and below, tobacco bags, and other commissariat articles; and they were followed by a band of horns and _rattles_."[ ] [ ] compare the procession in the panathenæa and dionysia, _supra_, p. . in another procession (ii. ), "the party was brought up by slave girls carrying baskets and calabashes. (query, of water?) these, preceded by six bellowing horns, stalked in slowly, and with measured gait the _eight_ tansi-no, who serve and pray for the ghosts of dead kings. (query, eight dead kings?) in front went _their_ ensign, a copper measuring rod feet long and tapering to a very fine end; behind it were two chauris and seven mysterious pots and calabashes wrapped in _white_ and _red_ checks," and presently "three brass, four copper, and six iron pots, curiosities on account of their great size.... _eight_ images, of which three were apparently _ship's figureheads_ whitewashed, and the rest very hideous efforts of native art."[ ] [ ] "eight men representing eight buffalo bulls," in mandan celebration, "took their positions on the four sides of the ark or 'big canoe.'"--catlin, p. . "the _chief actors_ in these strange scenes were _eight_ men with skins of buffaloes," &c. p. . four images were suspended on poles above the mystery lodge, p. . catlin. in captain burton's account of the articles paraded in the procession, the pipes (to which great mystery is attached), the _horns_ and _rattles (vide pl.)_, and _the baskets of water_ are common to the mandan ceremony. may not the eight stools be representative of the eight diluvian survivors. _vide supra_, , cabiri? let us, however, confine our attention to the "baskets of water." compare with the following account in catlin. "in the medicine (mystery) lodge ... there were also four articles of _veneration_ and importance lying on the ground, which were _sacks_ containing each some three or four gallons of _water_. these seemed to be objects of great superstitious regard, and had been made with much labour and ingenuity, being constructed of the skins of the _buffaloes'_ neck, and sewed together in the forms of large _tortoises_ lying on their backs (comp. p. ; also p. ), each having a sort of tail made of _raven's_ quills and a stick like a drumstick lying on it, with which, as will be seen in a subsequent part of the ceremony, the musicians beat upon the _sacks_ as instruments of music for their _strange dances_. by the sides of these sacks, which they called ech-tee-ka (drums), there were two other articles of equal importance which they called ech-na-da (rattles) made of undressed skins shaped into the form of _gourd_ shells," &c. (note the segments of _gourd_ accompanying the _water_ baskets in the dahome procession, _supra_.) catlin adds--"the sacks of water had the appearance of great antiquity, and the mandans pretended that the water had been contained in them ever since the deluge."--pp. , .[ ] [ ] in the _japanese_ (_vide_ p. ) version of the legend of the _bull_ breaking the mundane egg (_vide_ p. ), a _gourd_ or pumpkin is also broken which contained the first man.--_vide_ bryant's "mythology," iii. . "i have mentioned that _the ark_ was looked upon as the mother of mankind, and styled da-mater, and it was on this account figured under the semblance of a _pomegranate_," "as it abounds with seed"--bryant, ii. . _vide_ also plate (bryant, ii. ), where juno (_vide_, p. ) holds a _dove_ in one hand and a _pomegranate_ in the other. burton, ii. . it must be remembered that at dahome, royalty as there represented has absorbed and monopolized the most important parts of the ceremonial: it is natural, therefore, to expect that the conspicuous figures in the original (or in the mandan), which conflicted or would not consort with royalty, would be thrown into the background. accordingly i am only able to get a glimpse of the conspicuous figures opposite in the following passage:--"the jesters were followed by a dozen _pursuivants_ armed with gong-gongs, who advanced bending towards the throne, and shouted the 'strong names' or titles. conspicuous amongst them was an _oldster_ in a crimson sleeveless tunic and yellow shorts: his head was red with dust, he carried a large _bill-hook_,[ ] and he went about attended by _four_ drums and one cymbal." [ ] compare also _sup._, p. , with saturn. "ipsius autem canities," &c., and "cum falce messis insigne." it will be remembered (if my readers have read mr catlin, p. , ) that the first thing "the aged white man" does on entering the mystery lodge is to call on the chiefs "to furnish him with _four_ men," and the next is to "receive at the door of every mandan's wigwam _some edged tool_ to be given to the water as a sacrifice, as it was with _such tools_ that the "big canoe" was built.[ ] [ ] compare again these two figures, one figuring in the dahoman procession, the other in the mandan bull dance. catlin, p. . the opening scene in the mandan customs, effectively described by mr catlin, begins with "a solitary human figure descending the prairie hills and approaching the village," "in appearance a very _aged_ man," "a centenarian white man," dressed in a robe of four white wolves' skins." he was met by the head chief and the council of chiefs, and addressed by them as "nu-mohk-muck-a-nah" (the _first_ and only man.) "he then harangued them for a few minutes, reminding them that every human being on the surface of the earth had been destroyed by the water excepting himself, who had landed on a high mountain in the west in his canoe, where he still resided, and from whence he had come to open the medicine (mystery) lodge, that the mandans might celebrate the _subsiding of the waters_, and make the proper sacrifices to the water, lest the same calamity should again happen to them." burton, ii. . "the ministers ... they were conducted by a 'lali' or half-head, with right side of his pericranium clean shaven, and the left in a casing of silver that looked like a cast or a half melon." * * * * * burton says (ii. ), "one of the dahoman monarch's peculiarities is that he is double, not merely binonymous, nor dual, like the spiritual mickado and temporal tycoon of japan, but two in one. gelele, for instance, is king of the city and addo-kpon of the 'bush'; _i.e._ of the farmer folk and the country as opposed to the city. this country ruler has his _official_ mother, the dank-li-ke.... thus dahome has two points of interest to the ethnologist--the distinct precedence of women and the double king."--_vide_ also p. . catlin, p. . compare with the two athletic young men (_vide_ plate xiii.) assigned to each of the young men who underwent the torture--"their bodies painted _one half red_ and the other blue, and carrying a bunch of willow-boughs in one hand." here two or three questions suggest themselves. if this ceremony is primitive, will not dual royalty give a clue to the duality we find so commonly in mythology, assuming the basis of mythology to be historical? d, is there no clue in the name, _official_ name, of dank-li-ke? what does the reader guess the meaning to be? (p. .) mr burton tells us it means, "dank (the rainbow), li (stand), and ke (the world)." is it a forced paraphrase to construe this to mean--the rainbow is the sign that the world shall stand? upon the point of the precedence of woman, to which the dahoman ceremony testifies, but to which it gives no clue, i shall, as it is so very important in more bearings than one, give at some length the following scene from catlin:-- "when 'the evil spirit' enters the camp during the ceremony, he proceeds to make various attacks, which are defeated by the intervention of the master of the ceremonies. in several attempts of this kind the evil spirit was thus defeated, after which he came wandering back amongst the dancers, apparently much fatigued and disappointed.... in this distressing dilemma he was approached by an old matron, who came up slyly behind him, with both hands full of yellow dirt, which (by reaching around him) she suddenly dashed in his face, covering him from head to foot, and changing his colour, as the dirt adhered to the undried bear's grease on his skin; ... at length _another_ snatched his _wand_ from his hand and broke it across her knee ... his power was thus gone ... bolting through the crowd, he made his way to the prairies."--p. . we shall not be surprised to learn, then, that when the "feast of the buffaloes" (distinct from the bull-dance) commences (p. ), several old men perambulated the village in various directions, in the character of criers, with rattles in their hands, proclaiming that "the _whole government of the mandans_ was then in the hands of one woman--she who had disarmed the evil spirit ... that the chiefs that night were old women; that they had nothing to say; that no one was allowed to be out of their wigwams excepting the favoured ones whom 'the governing woman' had invited," &c. will not this give a clue to the precedence in dahome, _probandis probatis_, and is not the precedence in dahome thus interpreted, and the interlude above described evidence of the tradition, that the _woman_ should break the head of the _serpent_? (gen. iii. ). it is of great significance, and, if so many points of comparison had not occurred, ought to have been stated at the outset, that at dahome "the sin-kwain ("sin," water--"kwain," sprinkling), or water-sprinkling custom follows closely upon the "so-sin or horse-tie rites."--_vide_ burton, ii. . now, if the reader will turn to boulanger, i. , , he will find this identical custom in persia, pegu, china, and japan. but i relinquish the details, as i fear i shall have exhausted the patience of the few readers i shall have carried with me to this point; and because the king of dahome has a custom perhaps still more demonstrably cognate to not only the ancient grecian ceremonies on the shores of the ocean and on the banks of rivers, but with widely diffused tradition. i shall here place four writers in juxtaposition, and with this testimony i shall conclude:-- boulanger. the ancient inhabitants of italy repaired once a year to the lake cutilia, where they made sacrifices and celebrated secret mysteries or ceremonies (dion. halicarnassus, i. ). the pontiffs in ancient rome also went annually to the banks of the tiber, "là ils faisoient des sacrifices _expiatoires_ à saturne, ce dieu chronique," &c. (dion. hal. i. .) in the kingdom of saka in africa their greatest solemnity was celebrated on the banks of the rivers; the king himself presides at it (hist. gener. des voy., iii. ). the same custom has been already (_supra_, p. ) noticed on the indus. in all these cases human sacrifices were offered, or substitutes.--boulanger, i. pp. - . compare _supra_, p. , lines from dionysius periegesis. burton. at whydat the youngest brother of their triad is hu, the ocean or sea. [compare with assyrian hoa, _supra_, p. , and chinese yu, p. .] "the hu-no, or ocean priest, is now considered the highest of all.... at times the king sends as an ocean sacrifice from agborne a man carried in a hammock, with the dress, the stool, and the umbrella of a caboceer; a canoe takes him out to sea, where he is thrown to the sharks. the custom for this element is made at whydat, in a place near the greater market, and called hu-kpa-man. it is a _round_ hut, with thatch and chalked walls: outside is a heap of bones, whilst _skulls_, carapaces of the _tortoise_, and similar materials, cumber the _interior_. the priest is a fetish woman, who _offers water_ and kola nuts to, and expects rum from, white visitors."--ii. p. . compare also _supra_, in preface, extract from davies' "celtic researches" on the celtic god hu. catlin. the water ceremonies in catlin's account have already been sufficiently adverted to. he thus describes the medicine or mystery lodge in which they took place. exteriorly, with the exception of the four images, it differed only in dimensions from the other wigwams, which are thus described? "they were covered with earth. they were all of one form; the frames or shells constructed of timbers, and covered with a thatching of willow boughs, and over and on that with a foot or two in thickness of a concrete of tough clay and gravel, which became so hard as to admit the whole group of inmates to recline on _their tops_. they varied in size from thirty to sixty feet, and _were perfectly round_." for extract describing _interior_, _vide supra_, p. , noting (_vide_ plate iii. in catlin) the four human and four ox _skulls_; "the sacks of water in the form of large _tortoises_ lying on their backs." _n.b._--with reference to the tortoise, _vide ante_ p. . compare the "buddhist topes" in major cunningham's "bhilsa tope," _vide_ p. . hunter. hunter ("annals of rural bengal," p. ) says of the santals: "the only stream of any consequence in their present country--the damouda--is regarded with a veneration altogether disproportionate to its size. thither the superstitious santal repairs to consult the prophets and diviners, and once a year the tribes make a pilgrimage to its banks in commemoration of their forefathers.... however remote the jungle in which the santal may die, his nearest kinsman carries a little relic of the deceased to the river, and places it in the current to be conveyed to the far-off eastern land from which his ancestors came." in connection with the above, it must be remembered (_vide_ appendix g, p. , "santal traditions") that they have, although confused with the creation, an unmistakable tradition of the deluge, the intoxication of noah, and the dispersion. if, then, i have shown that the custom, for the preservation of which from oblivion, so far as the mandans (now extinct) are concerned, we are indebted to mr catlin, and which so plainly tells its own tale, is common to europe, asia, and africa, as well as america, i shall have established it as a tradition, not of a local american, but of an universal deluge; and if the tradition of the universal deluge is proved, then, according to mr catlin's narrative itself, there is tradition of the creation also (_vide_ pp. , , ).[ ] [ ] i allude to the opening of the ceremony by the centenarian _white_ man, "the first and only man." mr catlin is of opinion that this incident was introduced and superadded by some missionaries, though he adds it would be still more strange if the (jesuit) missionaries had instructed them "in the other modes." this, however, is understating the case. it is conceivable that missionaries should have come among them, but in this case we should have expected some trace of christian practices and dogmas; it is difficult to conjecture what set of missionaries could have indoctrinated them with the recondite pagan mysteries of eleusis and hierapolis. i have replied more fully, in chap. vii., to mr catlin's objection--that though they have a tradition of a deluge, it is not the tradition of the deluge, because they have not also the tradition of the creation. mr catlin argues upon the view that the american race "were created upon the ground on which they were found" ("last rambles," p. , ); and (p. ) adds, "i can find nothing in history, sacred or profane, against this." he takes his stand (in "o-kee-pa") upon this--that there is nothing in the mandan tradition which can be brought in proof of their migration from another continent. in reply i shall adduce their very name. the american continent may have been peopled by way of behring's straits, or from europe in the east by way of greenland, or by the connection of the pacific islands from the opposite coasts of japan, china, and the corea, or from the polynesian groups in the south. the population may have poured in by all these routes. it is said (prescott, "conquest of mexico," ii. )[ ] that mss. exist at copenhagen proving that the american coast was visited by the northmen in the eleventh century. the polynesian route we may leave out of consideration, as it will not probably have been the one by which the mandans came. as to the route by behring's straits, mr catlin admits "it is a possibility, and therefore they say it is probable" (p. , "last rambles"). but if, as there appears to me reason to think, they came from the opposite coast of the corea, it might as reasonably be conjectured that the migration took the route of behring's straits, or by way of the sandwich islands. the possibility of the former is conceded. i will confine my attention, therefore, to the latter, which mr catlin pronounces absolutely impossible. in the first place, the distance between the sandwich islands and america is not greater than between otaheite and new zealand.[ ] now it is admitted that new zealand was peopled from otaheite. moreover (_vide_ sir j. lubbock, "pre-historic times," p. ), the inhabitants of the sandwich islands, at two thousand miles distance, belong to the same race as those of tahiti (otaheite) and new zealand, and resemble them "in religion, languages, canoes, houses, weapons, food, habits, &c."[ ] the canoes of the pacific islanders generally (_vide_ captain cook _passim_) were of considerable size, and of very perfect workmanship. but also prescott ("conquest of mexico," ii. , quoting beechey's "voyage to pacific," , p. appendix, humboldt's "examen. critique de l'hist. de la geog." and nuov. cont. ii. ) says, "it would be easy for the inhabitant of eastern tartary or japan to steer his canoe from islet to islet quite across to the american shore, without ever being on the ocean more than two days at a time."[ ] [ ] _vide_ also giebel, "tagesfragen," p. ; _apud_ reusch, p. . [ ] _vide_ "cook's voyages," i. ; prescott, ii. . [ ] "there have been recent instances of japanese vessels having been thrown by shipwreck upon the coasts of the sandwich islands, and even on the mouth of the columbia."--reusch, "la bible et la nature," p. . "since the north-west coast of america and the north-east of asia have been explored, little difficulty remains on this subject.... small boats can safely pass the narrow strait. ten degrees farther south, the _aleutian_ and fox islands form a continuous chain between kamschatka and the peninsula of alaska in such a manner as to leave the passage across a matter of no difficulty."--warburton's "conquest of canada," i. . ellis ("polynesian researches," ii. ) says: "there are also _many_ points of _resemblance_ in language, manners, and customs between the south sea islanders and the inhabitants of madagascar in the west; the inhabitants of the _aleutian_ and _kurile_ islands in the north, which stretch along the mouth of behring's straits, and forms the chain which connects the old and new worlds," &c. [ ] "the sandwich islands, with a population of , , are more than two thousand miles from the coast of south america. how did the population of those islands get there? certainly not in canoes over ocean waves of two thousand miles. but i am told 'the sandwich islanders are polynesians;' not a bit of it; they are two thousand miles north of the polynesian group, with the same impossibility of canoe navigation, and are as different in _physiological traits_ of character and _language_ from the polynesian, as they are different from the american races.--"last rambles" (catlin), p. . . captain king, "transactions on returning to sandwich islands," &c., continuation of cook's voyages, pinkerton (xi. ) says on the contrary: "the inhabitants of the sandwich islands are undoubtedly of the same race with those of new zealand, the society and friendly islands, easter islands, and the marquesas. this fact, which, extraordinary as it is, might be thought sufficiently proved by the _striking_ similarity of their _manners_ and _customs_, and the general resemblance of their _persons_ is established beyond all controversy by the _absolute identity_ of their language." shortland says that the new zealanders, "when speaking of any old practice, regarding the origin of which you may inquire, have the expression constantly in their mouths, 'e hara i te mea poka hou mai; no hawaika mai ano.'--it is not a modern invention; but a practice brought from hawaiki, sandwich islands)."--shortland's "traditions of the new zealanders," p. . we may agree, then, that the mandans might have come by this route. is there anything which makes it probable that they came? well, yes; in the first place their name. mr catlin tells us ("o-kee-pa," p. ), "the mandans (nu-mak-ká-kee, _pheasants_, as they call themselves) have been known from the time of the first visits made to them, to the day of their destruction, as one of the most friendly and hospitable tribes on the united states frontier." it transpires, therefore, that they are called _pheasants_. is the pheasant a native of america?--on the other hand, is it not common on the opposite asiatic continent, and on the islands adjacent to it from new guinea to the corea? i have never heard of the pheasant in the american continent;[ ] but in reading the accounts of the missionaries of the corea (the only foreigners who have penetrated into the country), i read, "that clouds of _pheasants_ and birds of all kinds perch at night in the branches of the trees" ("life of henri dorie," translated by lady herbert; burns & oates, p. ); and if the reader will turn to p. in the same life, and will compare the description of the coreans, which he will find there, with the description and portraits of the mandans in mr catlin's "o-kee-pa," pp. , , he will, i think, recognise a sufficient resemblance to warrant and sustain the presumption created by their name.[ ] [ ] as far as i can ascertain, the pheasant is not a native of america. yarrell speaks of it as asiatic, and that it has been domesticated "in all parts of the _old_ continent." so also gould. of the american writers, _neither_ wilson, audubon, bonaparte, nuttall, richardson, or jameson include the pheasant. mr catlin, however, says, p. : "from the translation of their name, already mentioned (nu-mah-ká-kee, pheasants), an important inference may be drawn in support of the probability of their having formerly lived much farther to the south, as that bird does not exist on the prairies of the upper missouri, and is not to be met with short of the hoary forests of ohio and indiana, eighteen hundred miles south of the last residence of the mandans. in their familiar name of mandan, which is not an indian word, there are equally singular and important features. in the first place, that they knew nothing of the name or how they got it; and next, that the word mandan in the welsh language [mr c.'s theory is that they are the survivors of prince madoc's expedition from wales in the fourteenth century] means red dye, of which further mention will be made." on the legend of the welsh expedition, _vide_ warburton's "conquest of canada," ii., appendix iv. [ ] "the indians resemble the people of north-eastern asia in form and feature more than any other of the human race; their population is most dense along the districts nearest to asia; and among the mexicans, whose records of the past deserve credence, there is a constant tradition that their aztec and toltec chiefs came from the north-west."--warburton's "conquest of canada," i. . brace ("manual of ethnology," p. ) says, after noting that whereas the prominence in the head "is anterior in the chinese rather than lateral, as in the american indians and the tangusic tribes," adds, "the peculiar distinguishing characteristics are the smallness of the eyes and the obliquity of the eyelids. the nose is usually small and depressed, though sometimes, in favourable physical conditions, natives are found with a slightly aquiline nose, _giving the face a close resemblance to that of the american indians or new zealanders_." refer to argument at p. , with reference to the mozca indians. to the peculiarity of name, and resemblance of feature, i shall now proceed to add the evidence of some traces of their peculiar customs, or at least of some trace of the tradition out of which they arose. i am not at present in possession of evidence to show this in the corea itself (almost totally unknown and unexplored), but in the island of formosa the same mode of burial is observed, only that among the formosans other customs are added, which remind one of the commemorative customs of the mandans. catlin, p. . "their (mandan) dead, partially embalmed, are tightly wrapped in buffalo hides softened with glue and water, and placed on slight scaffolds, above the reach of animals or human hands, each body having its separate scaffold." the mandan dance was round "_the big canoe_," and a part of their ceremony on the roof of their wigwams. among the opischeschaht _indians_ (_vide field_, oct. , ) there was a dance which they called "the roof dance." "while the dance and song were going on below, leaped up and down between the roof-board, pushed aside for that purpose, making a noise like thunder.... after the dance was finished an old seshaaht came forward, and remarked, that as it was a dance peculiar to his tribe it could not be omitted," though "very injurious to the roof." ogilby's japan, p. . "the manner of disposing of their (formosans') dead and funeral obsequies is thus: when any one dies, the corpse being laid out, after twenty-four hours they elevate it upon a convenient scaffold or stage, four feet high, matted with reeds and rushes, near which they make a fire, so that the corpse may dry by degrees.... they drink intoxicating liquors. one beats on a drum made _like a chest_, but _longer_ and _broader_, and turning _the bottom upwards_; the women get up, and two by two, back to back, move their legs and arms in a dancing time and measure, which pace, or taboring tread, sends a kind of murmuring or doleful sound from the _hollow tree_." _n.b._--their boats were constructed by hollowing out a tree (_vide_ catlin's "last rambles," p. ).[ ] [ ] compare what ogilby (p. ) says: "near firando (japan) at an _inlet of the sea_ stands an idol, _being nothing but a chest of wood_, about three feet high, _standing like an altar_ [the big canoe was placed on end among the mandans], whither women, when they suppose they have conceived, go in pilgrimage, offering on their knees rice or other presents." at p. , at jado, it is said, "somewhat farther stands a temple _dedicated to all sorts of animals with a very high double roof_." (query, noah's ark?) in the _illustrated london news_, january , , its correspondent from yokohama gives a short account of the japanese religious festivals, in which among other coincidences i note the following: "the most absurd," he says, "is one in which the foul fiend is simultaneously expelled from every house by dint of pelting him with boiled peas. the devil is chased out of the town with a dance of derision, by young fellows in grotesque costumes, for the public mirth." compare with the scene in the mandan ceremonies, described by catlin, _vide supra_, p. . now, compare with the above, and also with the extracts from burton and catlin, at p. , remembering the prominence of the ox or bull (the ox and bull dance) in the mandan customs, and the connection of the bull with nin or ninip, p. , , and other mythological figures of which i believe noah to have been the antitype. the following description of the most curious traditional representation in japan (ogilby, p. ):-- "moreover, besides the ox temple in meaco, there is also to be seen the stately chapel dedicated to the creator of all things (the ox in the above-mentioned temple is represented as breaking the mundane egg, _vide supra_, p. ), who is represented in a very strange manner. in the middle of the temple is a great pot _full of water_ surrounded with a wall, seven feet high from the ground, in the middle of which appears an _exceeding great tortoise_, whose shell, feet, and head stands in the water; out of its back rises the body of a great tree, on the top of which sits a strange and horrible figure" ... [then follows a good deal which has its explanation, but must be curtailed] ... "the image hath four arms" ... in one "the hand grasps a cruse, _from whence water issues continually_; the other hand _holds a sceptre_.... the tree whereon he sits is of brass, ... about the middle of this tree an exceeding great serpent hath wreathed itself _twice_, whose head and body is on the right side held fast by two horrible shapes, the remaining part thereof to the tail, two kings and one of japan sages stretch forth" [evidently representing the contending influences (as in mandan dance), one of the kings having the duplicated janus head, _supra_, p. .][ ] [ ] compare p. in "flint chips," (e. t. stevens). "the omahas possess a _sacred shell_, which is regarded as an object of great sanctity by the whole nation. it has been transmitted from generation to generation, and its origin is unknown. a skin _lodge is appropriated to it_, and in this lodge a man, appointed as a guard to the shell, constantly resides. it is placed upon a stand, and is _never suffered to touch the earth_. it is concealed from sight by a _number of mats_ made of strips of skin plaited. the whole forms a large package, from which _tobacco_" (comp. stevens' "flint chips," p. , and catlin, _supra_) "and the _roots of trees_" (comp. supra, p. ), "and other objects are suspended," &c. &c. at pp. - there is perhaps a still more definite tradition of the deluge (confused as usual with traditions of the creation) in connection with the idol topan. "not far from mettogamma (said the interpreter) lies an exceeding _high mountain ... the top of which_ stand several temples which may be seen a great distance off at sea. in these temples the bonzies worshipped that great god which formerly created the sun, moon, and stars, but also fifteen lesser deities which some ages since conversed upon the earth (compare pp. , .) then follows their account of the creation. "mankind not only increased in number but also in wickedness, differing more and more from their heavenly extract, growing still worse and worse, mocking at thunder, _rainbows_, and fire; nay, they blasphemed the great god himself (whom when the interpreter named, he bowed his head to the ground), whereupon he called his inferior deities about him, telling them that he resolved to destroy and ruin all things ... and make a _round_ globe, in which the four elements should be all resolved _into their former mass_; and chiefly he commanded the idol topan to make thunder balls to shoot through the air and fire all the kingdoms with lightning ... so that none were saved except _one man and his family_, that had entertained and duly worshipped the gods." of the god topan it had been previously said "that some years since he saw the temple of the idol topan, whose image stood on a copper altar, cast like clouds, himself armed as a warrior, a coronet helmet on his head, his hand grasping a mighty club, and seeming to fly through the sky and moving his club to occasion thunder. when it thundered, a bonzi, whose head was adorned with consecrated leaves [query, the olive or willow?] which no thunder could harm," offered _several fishes_." (comp. , .) _vide_ also p. , representation of the fish-god in the person of their "god canon" [where we read of their "gods canon and camis or chamis;" if we were to substitute canaan and cham, _quid vetat_?][ ] [ ] _vide_ japanese tradition of the deluge (bertrand, "dict. des relig.," gainet, i. ; also _id._), it is said that the japanese commemorate this event in their third annual festival, which takes place on the fifth day of the fifth month. compare with mandan's, _supra_. to complete the circle of evidence, as regards the general tradition, i must add the following extracts from captain cook's voyages, i. (london, ):--"in the island of huahieine, thirty-one leagues from otaheite n.-w.," captain cook came upon an erection, of which he says--"the general resemblance between this repository and the ark of the lord among the jews is remarkable; but it is still more remarkable that upon inquiring of a boy what it was called, he said 'ewharre no eatua,' it is the house of god. he could, however, give no account of its signification or use." at p. , "saw (at uliatea) several ewharre-no-eatua or houses of god, to which carriage poles were attached as at huahieine.... from thence we went to a long house not far distant, where among rolls of cloth and several other things we saw the _model of a canoe_, about three feet long, to which were tied eight human jawbones" [eight the number saved in the ark. compare p. with kabiri. compare with ogilby (japan, ), where the god canon (canaan) is represented with seven heads on _his_ breast, eight with himself, he having been substituted for noah as the head of the race.] captain cook adds, however, "we had already learnt that these, like scalps among the indians of north america, were trophies of war," and suggests that the canoe "may be a symbol of invasion." that i must leave to the reader to decide, but the heads might be "trophies of conquest," and at the same time memorial heads,--the memorial heads having necessarily been replaced many times since the custom was first instituted.[ ] [ ] captain cook, speaking of their dances (p. ), says, "between the dances of the women the men performed a kind of dramatic interlude, in which there was _dialogue_ as well as dancing; but we were not sufficiently acquainted with their language to understand the subject. some gentlemen saw a much more regular entertainment of the dramatic kind, which was divided into _four acts_." _vide_ abbe gainet, "la bible sans la bible," i. , quotes l'abbe domenech, who speaks of "the dance of the deluge among many nations of the north and west of america." gainet also says that there were two distinct traditions of the deluge in the east and west groups of the society islands (otaheite). l'abbe gainet (i. ) gives an account of the _mandans_ from "ceremoníes religieuses," i. , which it will be interesting to compare with catlin, as it was written a century previous to his visit. "the mandans pretend that the deluge was formerly raised up against them by the white men to destroy their ancestors.... then the _first man_, whom they regard as one of their divinities, inspired mankind with the idea of constructing upon an eminence a _town_ and fortress in wood, and promised them that the water should not pass that point. they followed his advice and constructed the ark on the banks of the heart river. it was of a very large size, so that a part of their nation found safety there whilst the rest perished. in memory of this memorable event they place in each of their villages a small model of this _edifice_ [which may account for the erect position of 'the big canoe'], this model still exists. the waters abated after that, and to this day they celebrate, in memory of this ark, the fête of the '_okippe_,' which lasts _four days_." this leads me to the final question, when was this custom instituted? up to this i have not considered whether the custom was good or bad, demoniac or only corrupted; and as to the time of its institution i have merely assumed from the fact of its universality that it was primeval. before expressing my opinion, i must fortify myself with an extract from the rev. w. smith's very able work on the pentateuch.[ ] [ ] longmans, , i. . "strange, too, though it may appear, there is much in the outward ceremonial of the levitical worship that indicates an egyptian type. the fact need startle no one. for it is derogatory neither to the holiness of the almighty nor to the inspiration of his delegate, that moses should have borrowed from others rites which were good in themselves, and which became idolatrous only then, when employed in the worship of false gods. the most of external forms are in themselves indifferent and receive their determinate value from the feeling that prompts them, and the object to which they are directed: when given to god they are divine worship--when given to idols, they are idolatry. nor is inspiration jeopardised because the material details may have come from a human source. care and study and observation are not dispensed with in the mind that receives the divine communications; and moses was instructed in all the wisdom and learning of the egyptians for the very purpose of enabling him to use it to the best advantage ... as the church consecrated to a higher purpose the temples and the rites and festivals found among the pagan populations at their conversion. we need not then be scandalised if we find the _ark of jehovah_ to be the counterpart of the shrine of amun. the resemblance strikes us at once on a glance at the woodcut token from lepsius' denkmäler, ab. iii., bl. ." let the reader refer to the engravings in rev. w. smith's pentateuch, , . dr smith does not discuss the point further, only he says (p. ), "in egypt it is _the canopied boat_ in which the deity is steered on the heavenly ocean; in israel it is the covered chest, the form best adapted for holding the stone tables of the law." but if "the canopied boat" should have corresponded among the egyptians to "the big canoe" among the mandans, and the other similar memorials we have come upon, what more appropriate symbol could moses have incorporated? was not the ark of the covenant, in which the law was preserved in the widespread inundation of corruption, the counterpart of the ark in which mankind, in the persons of noah and his family, were saved? and in carrying on and embodying the tradition, we may see a motive why there may have been an intentional alteration of the symbol--viz. in order to wean his people from the corruption into which the whole egyptian ceremonial had sunk?[ ] and why should it not have been so? is there not a probability and fitness in the conjecture of some such commemorative sacrifices and memorials among mankind when they lived together before the dispersion in the times immediately following the deluge? [ ] cardinal wiseman in his letters to john poynder, esq. ("essays on various subjects," i. ), says, "dr spencer, a learned divine of the established church, published two folio volumes replete with extraordinary erudition, entitled 'de legibus hebræorum ritualibus et eorum ratione,' which has gone through many editions both here and on the continent. now, the entire drift and purport of this work is manifestly twofold--first, to prove that the great design of god, in giving rites and ceremonies to the jews, was to prevent their falling into idolatry; secondly, to demonstrate that almost every practice, rite, ceremony, and act so given was directly borrowed from the egyptian heathens; ... that whether we speak of the more solemn and especial injunctions, or of the minutest details of the ceremonial law, of circumcision and of sacrifice in all its varieties, and with all its distinctive ceremonies of purification and lustrations and new moons; of the ark of the covenant and the cherubim; of the temple and its oracles; of the urim and thummim, and the emissary goat; of them all spencer has endeavoured to prove, and that to the satisfaction of many learned men, that they pre-existed among the egyptians and other neighbouring nations." i have not met with dr spencer's work. i may mention, however, the pomegranates in the levitical robe as an instance. _vide_ references in this chapter and appendix. appendix to chapter xi. the pongol festival. "the pongol festival in southern india," by charles e. govat. "journal of the royal asiatic society of great britain and ireland," new series, vol. v., part i. ( .) "i had seen the pongol, the touching domestic festival it is now my chief object to describe. it had proved by its simple pathos that the hindus were akin to the noblest nations of the world, and that in their antiquity they were worthy of the honour that has come to them of being the best and the least altered representatives of the 'juventus mundi,' which all nations count to have been the golden age." he contrasts it with the worship in the great temple at siringham near trichinopoly, in which there "was ample justification for every epithet employed by ward, dubois, or wilberforce." "yet the pongol declared with equal force in favour of domestic love and chastity, of simple thanksgiving and rural contentment.... there is much reason to suppose that the pongol is one of the most complete and interesting of these remnants of primitive life. that it is primitive is shown by the fact that the old vedic deities are alone worshipped. indra is the presiding deity. agni is the main object of worship. a further proof of this point is given by the efforts that have constantly been made by the brahmans to corrupt the ritual, and introduce pauranic deities. krishna is always declared by the brahmans to be the pongol god, but the _tradition itself_ bears witness that the feast is older than the god. the tale is that when the great wave of krishna worship passed over the peninsula, the people were so enamoured of him that they ceased to perform the pongol rites to indra. this made the latter deity _so angry that he poured down a flood upon the earth_. the affrighted people ran to krishna, who seized the great mountain govardhanas, wrenched it from its place, and held it aloft on the tip of his little finger, like some huge umbrella. the people then ran beneath with their flocks and were saved.... the occasion of the festival is also primitive, for the pongol is another feast of ingathering, the centre of hebrew festivals, as this is of those of southern india.... the pongol is remarkable, as will be seen, for the strange combination of pastoral, hunting, and agricultural life. there are 'harvest homes' in almost every nation, but i do not know of any other example of the combination. the _great_ days of the feast are two--one of these devoted to the new crops, the other to the cattle alone ... while the feast winds up with a grand hunt, first of the cattle themselves and next of a hare." compare ch. vii.; compare patagonian. "long before the commencement of the feast an unwonted activity pervades native society. the pongol is _the_ social festival of the year, and must be celebrated with due honour, else an ineffaceable stain will rest on the family name. it is the christmas and whitsuntide of england made into one.... so soon as the _rains have finished_, and this may be expected by about the first week in december, the carpenter, the builder, and the artists are in full work repairing the houses.... the sides of the road in the bazaar are heaped with 'chatties' of all sizes and shapes. presents are bought for children. distant relatives have no fields of their own from which to get their rice, so a sack of the new grain from the ancestral acres goes off to each. to this is added a pot of ghee, a set of brass pots, or perhaps a jewel; that the pongol may not lack wherewith to make it joyful." creditors and debtors are often brought then to a compromise, or the process is postponed "till after pongol." "all must be ready by the early part of january, when, according to the hindu astrologers, the sun enters the tropic of capricorn. the feast hangs upon this, and it will be seen that the most interesting event of the celebration must exactly coincide with the passage of the sun. the festival commences on the previous day, and lasts for seven days, of which the second marks the sun's passage, and is called mahâ (or great) pongol, ... the next day is bhôgi pongol, or pongol of rejoicing, equally well known by the name of indra, ... bonfires and torches are illuminated (compare boulanger, lib. i. ch. ii.) the feast is now begun, and all turn from the fire, as it is extinguished by the rising sun, to the _bath_, with which every religious rite must commence. no image is used during the whole course of the celebration, except that of ganesa.... indra is represented on ordinary occasions as _a white man_ sitting on an elephant. in his left hand is a bow (compare ch. xv.), and in his right a thunderbolt, while his body is studded with a thousand eyes. [query, a reference to the peacock? compare ch. xv.] agni has also his special image, that of a stout man, red and hairy as esau, riding on a goat [compare bacchus, p. ]. sûrya is also a red man, sitting on a water lily. he has four arms and three eyes. but none of these (deities) are known at pongol any more than they were at the time when the hymns of the rig veda were composed.... the gifts are laid out on trays,--a vase of sugar, or perhaps an idol, _peacock_ or elephant, round which will be grouped smaller works in sugar for the children.... one thing may not be forgotten, that is a lime [compare 'gourd,' p. ]. this must be _as large_ as money can buy, and then be carefully encased in gold leaf till it looks like one of the golden apples of antiquity. the next day is mahâ (or great) pongol. it is often called sûrya pongol. at noon the sun will cross the equator, and bring the culminating glory of the feast. so great a day must commence with appropriate ceremonial, and _in this instance it is bathing_. in country places the women run early in the morning to the _nearest tank_ and _plunge bodily in without undressing_." [this is alluded to by mr gover as "an innovation so uncomfortable and possibly dangerous;" but no evidence is adduced of its being an innovation, and its being the custom of the "country parts" would incline us to the contrary belief.] the men also bathe very carefully, as if the occasion _were very solemn_. reference is made to the rig veda, i. , - (wilson, i. ); but in these verses occur the words, "waters take away whatever sin has been found in me." "dripping wet, the women proceed, without changing their clothes, to prepare the feast, ... new chatties, or earthen vessels had been purchased for the occasion; one of them is now taken and is filled with rice, milk, sugar, dholghee or clarified butter, grain, and other substances, calculated to produce a tasty dish.... the ingathering must be celebrated with things that have just been garnered. usually hindoos will not eat new rice, as it is indigestible" (refer to leviticus xxiii. - ). another incident is that--"the head of the house approaches the image (of ganesa), and performs pûja. then follows a procession of the young married couples to propitiate their mothers-in-law.... so a present, the best the house can provide, is carefully put together on a tray. it may be fruit, or brass pots, or ghee, or whatever else may be thought most acceptable. then a small procession is formed. in front go three or four men, beating on tom-toms and blowing pipes. then follows the gift, held aloft. over it, if the family be respectable, is held an umbrella, carried by a servant who walks behind the bearer of the gift.... the nearest relative steps forward and asks that the daughter and her husband may come to the 'boiling,' to fill up the family circle. then follows the boiling of the pot; 'as the milk boils, so will the coming year be.' the pongol is one long series of visits, entertainments, and social joys." (comp. mandan festival, _supra_.) "the third day of the feast is mâttu pongol, or the pongol _of the cattle_. it commences with a general _wash_. they betake themselves to the nearest _sacred_ tank, driving or dragging with them the whole bovine possessions of the village. they are then driven home, and adornment commences; the horns are carefully painted _red_, _blue_, _green_, _or yellow_,--if the owner be rich, gold leaf is employed,--heavy garlands of flowers placed on the horns. meanwhile the women have prepared another new chatty, filling it with water, steeping within saffron, cotton seeds, and mangora leaves. the master of the ceremonial, usually the head of the house, comes for it, and places himself at the head of a procession of all the men--the women may not see the rite we now describe. in solemn silence they march round each animal four times, while the first man sprinkles the bitter water upon it and the ground as often as they pass the four cardinal points of the compass.... this done, the women and children are again admitted. the patient cattle are led out one by one to receive their final adornment.... then, at a given signal, every rope is untied, every tom-tom, pipe, and guitar is banged or blown to the extreme of its endurance, and in an instant the herd, hitherto so patient, is careering down the street in an extremity of terror.... any one may possess himself of whatever is carried by the cattle. no little skill and a vast amount of courage are shown by the 'timid' hindoos in this dangerous and exciting pell-mell. the next day is kanen pongol, or pongol of the calves. "on the evening of this day we find the only token of corruption in the ceremonial." ... then follows a dance, just as is described by catlin as _closing_ the mandan ceremonial, in which very similar scenes occur. before adverting to the points of contrast between the pongol and the mandan and dahoman ceremonies, i will give an extract from a book recently published, giving an account of a country hitherto unexplored--viz. northern patagonia. traces i think will be recognised of the same primitive custom, though with evidences of corruption. "three years slavery among the patagonians," by guinnard (bentley, ), p. .[ ] [ ] much doubt has been expressed as to the veracity of m. guinnard's narrative, but the scenes and customs referred to are not likely to have been invented; and on the supposition of a fictitious narrative (although i see nothing incredible) they will probably have been imported from true narratives of other tribes. in either case they supply additional evidence. "at certain periods of the year the indians keep religious festivals. the first takes place in the summer, and is consecrated to vita-ouènetrou (the god of goodness) for the purpose of thanking him for all his past favours, and of begging him to continue them in the future. it is generally the grand cacique who fixes the date and duration of the festival.... the preparations are made with all the religious pomp of which they are capable; the indians grease their hair and paint their faces with greater care than usual.... at the commencement of the ceremony the women move their tents provisionally to the centre of the spot chosen by the cacique. the men do not arrive until these preparations are finished, they ride three times round the place at full gallop, shouting their war cry and shaking their lances. then, their rides ended, they range themselves in single file, and tilt their lances with such perfect regularity as to make it a striking sight. the women _afterwards take the places of their husbands_" (compare catlin, _sup._, p. ), "who, after dismounting and tying up their horses, form a second rank behind them." "the dance then commences without change of place, except from right to left. the women sing in a plaintive tone [laughter being expressly forbidden during the whole continuance of the ceremonies], accompanying themselves by striking a _wooden drum_." compare catlin, _sup._, . it is also said (guinnard, p. ), "the drum is composed of a sort of wooden bowl, more or less large, over which a wild-cat skin is stretched, or a piece of the paunch of a _horse_. _this instrument_ ... is much used by them, _especially in their religious festivals_ and character dances." the drum is "decorated with colours and designs similar to those on their faces. the men pirouette, limping upon the opposite leg to that of the women." compare catlin, , . "at a signal given by the cacique presiding over the festival, cries of alarm are raised, the men spring into their saddles, abruptly _interrupting the dance_ to take part in a fantastic cavalcade round the site of the festival, all waving their weapons, and raising the sinister cry they utter in their pillages." "in the intervals of these exciting diversions everybody _goes visiting_ in the hope of tasting a little rotted _milk_ kept in a horse-hide." compare pongol festival, p. . "at a very early hour on the fourth day, to close the ceremony, a young _horse_, an _ox_, and two sheep, given by the richest men amongst them, are sacrificed to their god. the head turned towards the east, and the heart still palpitating is hung upon a lance and inclined towards the rising sun." "the second festival takes place in the autumn; it is celebrated in honour of houacouvou (_director of_ the evil spirits). the object of it is to conjure him to preserve them from all enchantment. as in the first festival, the indians dress themselves in their best, and assemble by tribes only, headed by their cacique. an assemblage of _all the cattle_ takes place _en masse_. the men form a double circle around, galloping unceasingly in opposite directions, so that none of these unruly animals may escape. they invoke houacouvou aloud, throwing down, drop by drop, fermented _milk_ out of _bull's horns_, handed to them _by their wives_, while they are riding round the cattle. after repeating this ceremony three or _four_ times, they sprinkle the horses and oxen with whatever remains of the milk, with the view, they say, of preserving them from all maladies; this done, each man _separates his own cattle_, and _drives it to some distance_, then returns for the purpose of assembling round the cacique, who, in a long and fervid address, advises them never to forget houacouvou in their prayers, and to lose no time in preparing themselves to please him, by carrying desolation amongst the christians, and increasing the number of their own flocks and herds." this festival, therefore, in its original conception would not appear to be a worship of the evil spirit, but of him who curbs him; the same idea of the subordination of the evil spirit will be seen in catlin's account of the mandans. there is nothing certainly in this account which directly connects these patagonian ceremonies with the diluvian commemorations, unless, perhaps, the sacred drum; but there is much in common with the pongol and the mandan which we have seen to have been commemorative. the prominence of sun worship will not have escaped observation; but this discovery cannot militate against my position, for i have already shown (p. ) that such admixture was probable, and also indicated how it was likely to have come about. any hostile argument which would seek to deprive those ceremonies of their significance must be directed to the extrusion of the diluvian symbols. further trace of these diluvian ceremonies might be traced in the buddhist systems; but it would open out too large a question for discussion here. chapter xii. _sir john lubbock on tradition._ de maistre's view.[ ] "we have little knowledge of the times which preceded the deluge.... a single consideration interests us, and it must never be lost sight of, and that is, that chastisements are ever proportioned to crimes, and crimes always proportioned to the knowledge of the criminal; in such sort that the deluge supposes unheard-of crimes, and that these crimes suppose a knowledge infinitely transcending that which we possess.... this knowledge, freed from the evil which had rendered it so noxious, survived in the first family the destruction of the human race. we are blinded as to the nature and advance of science by a gross sophism which has fascinated every eye; it is to judge of times when men saw effects in their causes by those in which men painfully ascend from effects to causes, in which they are only concerned with effects, in which they say it is useless to occupy themselves with causes, and in which they do not know what constitutes a cause. they never cease repeating--'think of the time that has been required to know such and such a thing.' what inconceivable blindness! a moment only was required. if man would know the cause of a single phenomenon of nature, he would probably comprehend all the rest. we are unwilling to see that truths, the most difficult to discover, are very easy to understand.... 'these things,' as plato says, 'are perfectly and easily learned if any one teaches them, [greek: ei didaskoi tis]; but,' he adds, 'no one will teach them us, unless, indeed, god shows him the road, [greek: all oud an didaxeien ei mê theos yphêgoito].' 'i doubt not,' said hippocrates, 'that the arts were in the first instance favours ([greek: theôn charitas]) granted to men by the gods.'... listen to sage antiquity in its account of the first men: it will tell you that they were marvellous men, and that beings of a superior order deigned to favour them with the most precious communications. on this point there is no disagreement, ... reason, revelation, all human tradition make up a demonstration which the mouth only can contradict. not only, then, did mankind commence with science, but with a science different from ours, and superior to ours.... no one knows to what epoch remounts, i do not say the early commencements of society, but the great institutions, the profound knowledge, and the most magnificent monuments of human industry and human power.... asia, having been the theatre of the greatest marvels, it is not astonishing that its people should have preserved a leaning to the marvellous stronger than what is natural to man in general, and than each one recognises in himself individually. hence it comes that they have always shown so little taste and talent for our science of _conclusions_. one would say rather that they recalled something of primitive science and of the era of intuition. would the enchained eagle ask for a balloon to raise himself into the air? no, he would demand only that his fetters should be broken. and who knows if these people are not destined yet to contemplate sights which will be refused to the cavilling genius of europe? however this may be, observe, i pray you, that it is impossible to think of modern art without seeing it constantly environed with all the contrivances of the intellect and all the methods of art.... on the contrary. so far as it is possible to discover the science of primitive times at such an enormous distance, we see it always free and isolated, flying rather than marching, and presenting in all its characteristics something of the ærial and supernatural.[ ]... but then comes the corollary.... if all men descend from the three couples who repeopled the universe, and if the human race commenced with knowledge, the savage cannot be more, as i have said to you, than a branch detached from the social tree.... now, what matter does it make at what epoch such and such a branch was separated from the tree? it suffices that it is detached: no doubt as to its degradation; and i venture to say no doubt as to the cause of degradation, which can only have been some crime. a chief of a nation having altered the principle of morality in his household by one of those prevarications which, so far as we can judge, are no longer possible in the actual state of things, because happily our knowledge is no longer such as to allow us to become culpable in this degree; this chief of a nation, i say, transmits the curse to his posterity; and every constant force being accelerating in its nature, this degradation, weighing incessantly upon his descendants, has ended in making them what we call _savages_. two causes extremely different have thrown a deceptive cloud over the lamentable state of savages: the one of ancient date, the other belonging to our century.... one cannot for an instant regard the savage without reading the curse written, i do not say only in his soul, but even in the exterior form of his body. he is an infant, robust, yet deformed and ferocious, in whom the flame of intelligence no longer throws more than a lurid and intermittent glare.... i cannot abandon this subject without suggesting an important observation: the barbarian who is intermediate between the civilised man and the savage, has been and may be again civilised by some sort of religion; but the savage, properly so called, has never been so except by christianity. it is a prodigy of the first order, a species of redemption, exclusively reserved to the true priesthood.[ ]... for the rest, we must not confound the _savage_ with the _barbarian_. [ ] i need not remind my reader that these speculations of de maistre anticipated by many years the analogous, though at the same time independent, conclusions of archbishop whately, in his lecture "on the origin of civilisation," published in . [ ] "we ought then to recognise that the state of civilisation and of science is, in a certain sense, the natural and primitive state of man. thus, all oriental traditions commenced with a state of perfection and light, and, i repeat it, of supernatural light; and greece--lying greece, which 'has dared everything in history'--renders homage to this truth, in placing its golden age at the beginning of things. it is no less remarkable that it does not attribute to the following ages, even to the iron age, the state of savagery, so that all that it has told us of those primitive men living on acorns, &c., puts it _in contradiction with itself_, and can only have reference to particular cases, _i.e._ to some races degraded, and then reclaimed to a state of nature, which is a state of civilisation."--_de maistre's "soirées de st petersbourg"_ i. _deux: entretien_, p. . [ ] i consider that this remark has been fully substantiated in marshall's "christian missions." "no language could possibly have been invented, either by a single man, who could not have extorted obedience, or by many who would not have made themselves understood to each other.... but i would wish, before concluding this subject, to recommend to your notice an observation which has always struck me. whence comes it that in the primitive language of every ancient people, we find words which necessarily suppose a knowledge foreign to these people? whence, for instance, have the greeks, three thousand years ago at least, found the epithet 'physizoos' (giving or possessing life), which homer sometimes gives to the earth?.... where have they taken the still more singular epithet of 'philomate' (liking or thirsting for blood), given to this same earth in a tragedy? (euripides, phoen. v. ). Æschylus had alluded before 'to the earth drinking the blood of the two rival brothers, the one slain by the other.'[ ] humboldt ('monum. des peuples indigènes de l'amerique,' paris, ) has said: 'many idioms which at present belong only to barbarous nations seem to be the remains of rich and flexible languages, which indicate a high culture.... but tell me, i pray you, how it entered the heads of the ancient latins, at a time when they were only acquainted with the arts of war and of tillage, to express by the same word the idea of prayer and of punishment? who taught them to call fever the "purifier," or the "expiator"?'[ ] would not one say that there was here a judgment, a veritable knowledge of the cause, by virtue of which the people affirmed the name so justly? but do you believe that these sorts of judgments could possibly have belonged to a time when they scarcely knew how to write, when the dictator dug his garden, and in which they composed verses which varro and cicero no longer understood?... the greeks had preserved some obscure traditions in this regard--[mr gladstone has shown them to be neither few nor obscure],--and who knows if homer does not attest the same truth, perhaps without knowing it, when he speaks of certain men and certain things 'which the gods called after one manner, and men after another?'"--_count joseph de maistre, "soirées de st petersbourg,"_ i. _deux: entretien._[ ] [ ] compare with gainet, i. , . [ ] "now it is clear that the train of thought which leads from purification to penance, or from purification to punishment, reveals a moral and even a religious sentiment in the conception and naming of poena, and it shows us that in the very infancy of criminal justice punishment was looked upon (mr max müller is speaking with reference to what i may call briefly the sanscrit epoch) not simply a retribution or revenge, but as a correction, as a removal of guilt. we do not feel the presence of these early thoughts when we speak of corporal punishment or castigation; yet _castigation_ too was originally chastening, from '_castus_,' pure; and 'incestum' was impurity or sin, which, according to roman law, the priests had to make good, or to punish by a 'supplicium,' or supplication or prostration before the gods." [ ] compare with max müller, "chips," ii. . against this view of de maistre, which i consider to be indirectly sustained by the testimony of all antiquity, stands the theory of sir john lubbock. there is the constant historical tradition and testimony of the human race on one side, and there is the history of "pre-historic times" on the other. nevertheless, i venture to say, that the author of "pre-historic times" only takes up with man at the point where de maistre leaves him. of course i do not seek to detach sir john lubbock from the evidence he has collected; neither do i forget that he is the representative of an opinion and a school; at any rate, that there is an opinion of which he is the most conspicuous exponent. so far as my limited acquaintance with the special subjects with which sir john lubbock deals extends (and with these i am only indirectly concerned), he appears perfectly straightforward and candid; and, moreover, i must acknowledge my obligations to him, for he has written with remarkable breadth and ability; and it is with the aid of the interesting matter which he has accumulated,[ ] expressly in disparagement of tradition, that i venture to undertake to reinstate it in honour. [ ] _vide_ chapter on savage life in "pre-historic times." neither do i wish to ignore that sir john lubbock's main argument is the geological argument derived from the discovery of the fossils and implements in the drift. but on this point i beg to be allowed to say a word in protest. as a geologist sir john lubbock may be entitled to rely mainly upon the geological evidence of a palæolithic age;[ ] but as an ethnologist dealing with history and writing on the subject of tradition, his argument, however incontrovertible he may deem it, sinks to the second rank; and secondary i shall take the liberty of considering it. on the same grounds, though i think with more reason, that sir j. lubbock seeks to be relieved from "the embarrassing interference of tradition" ("pre-historic times," p. ), i protest, when tradition is the subject-matter of the discussion, against a geological argument being brought to take the ground from under our feet! [ ] it may perhaps be doubtful to what extent sir j. lubbock maintains his theory of a stone age; although sir john formally excludes china and japan from the argument, he nevertheless appears to me to assume the existence of universal transitional periods through which the human race necessarily passed. "it would appear that pre-historic archæology may be divided into four great epochs. firstly, that of the drift: when man shared the possession of europe with the mammoth, &c. this we may call the 'palæolithic period.' secondly, the later or polished stone age; a period, &c. thirdly, the bronze age, &c. fourthly, the iron age." sir john adds, certainly--"in order to prevent misapprehension, it may be well to state at once, that for the present i only apply this classification to europe, though in all probability it might be extended also to the neighbouring parts of asia and africa. as regards other civilised countries, china and japan for instance, we as yet know nothing of their pre-historic archæology. [i should rather say, as we as yet have no reason to suppose that they have ever lost the knowledge of metals.] it is evident also that some nations, such as the fuegians, andamaners, &c., are _even now_ only in an age of stone. but even in this limited sense, the above classification has not met with general acceptance; there _are still some_ archæologists who believe that the arms and implements--stone, bronze, and iron--were used contemporaneously."--_pre-historic times_, pp. , . i think that the concluding sentence makes it quite clear that sir john assumes the existence of universal progressive periods as above. in any case it may be proved in this way. sir john argues upon the hypothesis of the unity of the human race; and i also think that he will not refuse the unbroken testimony to the fact of the civilisation of europe from asia. either, then, the _first_ colonisation took place when asia was in the state of the "drift," or in the "later polished stone age," or else the migration left asia with the knowledge of bronze or iron. on the latter supposition the argument i contend for is conceded, and original civilisation and subsequent degeneracy is established. to escape this alternative the universality of a stone age in asia as well as in europe, must be proved or assumed. this assumption i maintain is essential to sir john's argument. in the first place, i beg to urge that if sir j. lubbuck's argument be well founded, professor rawlinson's reconstruction of assyrian history cannot be true. now i assume that the one order of facts is as well established as the other. if professor rawlinson takes back assyrian history and corroborates history and tradition by the evidence of recent excavations to b.c. , identifies the erech of scripture with the huruk of the cuneiform tablets and the modern urka; similarly identifies the other three cities of nimrod; and, finally, identifies nimrod himself as bil-nipru; and if, further, bronze implements are found (rawlinson, i. , , ), along with flint doubtless (but this was common throughout the bronze age, as sir john himself admits), at an early period;--and bronze, though comparatively rare, yet exists among the very early assyrian remains--there seems no good reason to suppose that the knowledge of metals, which we know (gen. iv. ) to have existed before the deluge, and which the construction of the ark presupposes, was ever lost. a stone age, exclusive of metals, common to the whole world and to all mankind, is therefore an untenable hypothesis according to the testimony of history. if it existed anywhere it must have been only partially, locally, and contemporaneously with this traditional knowledge of metals, which seems to be historically proved.[ ] i may at least be permitted to believe in the accuracy of professor rawlinson's conclusions, and to regard them as the verdict of history: and if the historical arguments so pronounce, why should the geological or palæontological argument override it? is not history supreme on its own ground--and if scripture is always found in perfect consistency with history, is it not as much as in strictness we should have a right to expect? "tradidit mundum disputationi eorum" (eccles. iii. ). [ ] wilson ("archæologia of scotland," ) says, "but after all it is to asia we are forced to return for the _true source of nearly all our primitive arts_, nor will the canons of archæology be established on a safe foundation till the antiquities of that older continent have been explored and classified." not only bronze but iron has been found in the east in use at an early period (_vide_ layard, "nineveh and babylon," - , ). at nimroud, dr percy (_id._ ) says the iron was used to economise the bronze; if so it must have been cheaper, and therefore probably more abundant; and he is of opinion that "iron was more extensively used by the ancients than seems to be generally admitted." philology seems also to establish an early common knowledge, and subsequent tradition of the use of metals. mr max müller (ii. ) says, "that the value and usefulness of some of the metals was known before the separation of the aryan race can be proved only by a few words; for the names of most of the metals differ in different countries. yet there can be no doubt that iron was known, and its value appreciated, whether for defence or attack. whatever its old aryan name may have been, it is clear that sanscrit 'ayas,' latin 'ahes,' in 'ahencus' and even the contracted form 'æs, æris'; the gothic 'ais,' the old german 'er,' and the english iron, are names cast in the same mould, and only slightly corroded even now by the rust of so many centuries." the swedish gothic race had no tradition but of weapons of iron. (professor nillson's "stone age," p. .) i find in captain cook's voyages that in otaheite their word for iron is "eure-eure." germans (_apud_ tacitus) called their iron lances "framea," which has great resemblance to _ferrum_. (_vide_ wilson, .) the following passage from wilson's "archæologia" seems to prove this common terminology still more extensively--"the saxon 'gold' differs not more essentially from the greek '[greek: chrysos]' than from the latin 'aurum'; iron from '[greek: sideros]' or 'ferrum'; _but_ when we come to examine the celtic names of the metals it is otherwise. the celtic terms are: gold: gael, 'or,' golden, 'orail'; welsh, 'aur'; latin, ' aurum.' silver: gael, 'airgiod,' made of silver, 'airgiodach'; welsh, 'ariant'; latin, 'argentum'--derived in the celtic from 'arg,' white, or milk, like the greek '[greek: argos],' whence they also formed their '[greek: argyros].' now, is it improbable that the latin 'ferrum' and the english 'iron' spring indirectly from the same celtic root? gael, '_iarunn_'; welsh, '_haiarn_'; saxon, iron; danish, 'iern'; spanish, 'hierro,' which last furnishes no remote approximation to 'ferrum.' nor with the older metals is it greatly different, as bronze, gael, 'umha' or '_prais_'; welsh, 'pres,' whence our english 'brass,' a name bearing no very indistinct resemblance to the roman 'æs.' lead in like manner has its peculiar gaelic name 'luaidha,' like the saxon 'læd' (lead), while the welsh 'plwm' closely approximates to the latin 'plumbum.' it may undoubtedly be argued that the latin is the root instead of the offshoot of these celtic names, but the entire archæological proofs are opposed to this idea," p. . sir j. lubbock, "pre-historic times" (p. ) says, "the tools of the tahitians when first discovered were made of stone, bone, shell, or wood. of metal they had no idea. when they first obtained nails they mistook them for the young shoots of some very hard wood, and hoping that life might not be quite extinct, planted a number of them carefully in their gardens." captain wallis, however, speaking of the islands within the polynesian group, remarks "as an extraordinary circumstance that although no sort of metal was seen on any of the lately discovered islands, yet the nations were no sooner possessed of a piece of _iron_, than they began to _sharpen it_, but did not treat copper or brass in the same manner."--"voyages of english navigators round the world," iii. . would not these different appreciations of iron and brass be accounted for if we suppose iron to be the _last_ metal they had been traditionally acquainted with? iron being the more common and inexpensive metal. now, secondly, as it happens that bronze is only a combination of copper and tin in certain proportions, and as neither existed on the spot (in the mesopotamian valley), it is a curious question how they could have hit upon the discovery through actual experiment. tin, for instance, is only found in cornwall, banca (between sumatra and borneo), spain, saxony, and siberia. now, how did it enter the heads of even these wise chaldæans to go to these distant countries in search of this metal unless they knew beforehand through tradition, that if procured along with copper it would produce the useful amalgam they sought? true, it might have been brought to them through commerce, but in that case there must have been some other race more advanced in civilisation than themselves. if the phoenicians, much the same argument will recur. if some race in the countries where tin was procured, where is it now? if it exists it must be represented by some race at present or historically known to have been in a state of barbarism. this, however, at this stage of the argument, would be too precipitate an admission of degeneracy! now, in a certain modified sense, i should be quite prepared to admit a stone age. nothing more probable than that in the dispersion certain families would have taken only what came readiest to hand. those who made long marches, and came to countries where minerals were scarce, would have been in the way of losing the knowledge of metals altogether, except in so far as they preserved the tradition of them; and this would much depend upon how far they preserved other traditions.[ ] some instance should be given us--and as there are savages who are still using nothing but flint, there is still the chance--of some set of savages who have spontaneously hit upon the plan of fusing different metals, or even of smelting metals which were under their eye? certainly not our supposed flint ancestors, who, as professor nillson and sir j. lubbock agree, must have got their knowledge of bronze from asia: sir j. lubbock inclining to an indo-european, professor nillson to a phoenician "origin of the bronze age civilisation." ("pre-historic times," p. .) all this perfectly coincides with the view i have indicated, that the contrast arose through the divergence of the lines of the dispersion, leading the tribes to varied fortunes, some losing and others retaining the tradition; and those who retained it eventually communicating it to those who had lapsed. but then there are those unfortunate bashkirs, who, professor nillson tells us, are still in their stone age, and who have remained bashkirs since herodotus described them as such years ago. as they have resisted the contact of civilisation so long, one can only watch with careful curiosity the transitionary process by which they will pass by internal development from their stone to their bronze age.[ ] [ ] "mr vaux of the british museum has added the following interesting note on the metallurgy of the ancients. st, the earliest form of metal work appears to have been employed in the ornamentation of sacred vessels for temples, &c.... occasionally the floor or foundation of some temples was of brass: thus [greek: chalkeos oudos] (soph. oed. col.), perhaps like the room at delphi called [greek: laïnos oudos], itself also a treasury."--layard, "nineveh and babylon," p. . boulanger, "l'antiquité dévoilée par ses usage," (iii. ), says, "ce sont les mystères qui out tiré les hommes de la vie sauvage pour les ramener à la vie sociale et policée. ces mystères étoient un composé de cérémonies religieuses ... _leur origine remonte_ au temps des héros et des demi-dieux." [ ] "of all the different phases of civilisation, those which a nation _must pass_ before it attains the highest grade of development, the first rude state is the most enduring and the most difficult to get over."--professor nillson's "stone age," . "the evidence of the transition from a stone to a bronze age among the egyptians _appears merely to be_ the use of a stone knife found in their catacombs, and used for the _sacred_ incision into the dead, although they used bronze and iron knives for ordinary purposes, and whereas the _stone_ knife was used by the early _hebrews_ in circumcision, and by the priests of montezuma as instruments of human sacrifice."--wilson's "archæologia," p. . i must now revert to what i at present wish to limit the discussion, viz. sir j. lubbock's views on the subject of tradition. sir john says that history can throw no light upon the question of the stone and bronze age, "because the use of metals has in all cases preceded that of writing." i should like to know whether sir john is prepared to adhere to this "dictum" under all circumstances, inasmuch as, if he does, he must allow me to trace the use of metals in assyria even beyond the date at which professor rawlinson seems actually to have found evidence of their use; for (pp. , ) "in the ruins of warka, the ancient huruk or erech" (the city of nimrod) we find inscriptions on bricks of the date of the reign of urukh or orchamus, who, according to classical tradition, was the seventh in succession from bel or nimrod; which tradition, says rawlinson (p. ), "accords very curiously with the information derived from the inscriptions." there is nothing to indicate that the bricks here discovered were the first bricks ever _inscribed_; on the contrary, wherever we find bricks and metals there will be a _prima facie_ presumption as to their previous use.[ ] only upon sir john lubbock's "dictum," finding evidence of writing at this date, we must necessarily conclude that the use of metals preceded it. this would bring us well up the seven reigns, and into close contact with the time of nimrod. [ ] it amounts to this, that we are requested first of all to discard and absolutely exclude all that we do know through direct historical evidence of our origin, and to determine it merely by scientific induction. sir j. lubbock says in his introduction to professor nillson's "stone age" (which is a summary of the whole question), "i have purposely avoided all reference to history, all use of historical data, because i have been _particularly anxious to show_ that in archæology we can arrive at definite and satisfactory conclusions, on independent grounds, without any assistance from history; consequently regarding times before writing was invented, and therefore before written history had commenced" (p. xlii.) compare with _supra_, ch. vii. "nor," says sir j. lubbock (p. ), "will tradition supply the place of history. at best it is untrustworthy and shortlived. thus in the new zealanders had no recollection of tasman's visit. yet this took place in , less than one hundred and thirty years before, and must have been to them an event of the greatest possible importance and interest.... i do not mean to say that tradition would never preserve for a long period the memory of any remarkable event. the above-mentioned facts (de soto's expedition is also referred to) prove only that it will not always do so; but it is unnecessary for us to discuss this question, as there is in europe no tradition of the stone age, and when arrow-heads are found the ignorant peasantry refer them to the elves or fairies; stone axes are regarded as thunderbolts, and are used not only in europe but also in various other parts of the world for magical purposes" (p. ). _"relieved" then_ "from _the embarrassing interference of tradition_, the archæologist can only follow the methods which have been so successfully pursued in geology" (p. ).[ ] this is partly a limitation of the question to oral tradition, and partly an anticipated denial of what i shall now venture to assert, namely, that we can only look for the savages' traditions of things known to them before they were savages, religious impressions which have not been effaced from their minds, legends connected with their race, facts which have determined their destiny. the very characteristic of the savage is that he lives only for the present; that he has little memory for the past, and no forecast for the future; that his mind is stricken with a hopeless sterility and fixedness, so that he only seems to remember things that are bred in the bone, and the tradition of which he cannot divest himself.[ ] [ ] "it must not be forgot to the honour of the babylonians that they are acknowledged, by all antiquity, to have been the first who made use of writing in their public and judicial acts, but at what period it is not known."--goguet, "origin of laws," i. . diodorus, however, says of the egyptians (_vide_ p. ), "_menes_ without doubt has been esteemed the first legislator of egypt, _because_ he was the first who put his _laws in writing_. for before him vulcan, helius, and osiris (_vide ante_, p. ) had given laws to egypt."--diod. l. , - . but also it must be recollected that the copper mines of egypt were worked from the earliest period. [ ] but there are savages and savages; or rather there are savages who are strictly such, and savages who have still the germ of life and who are more properly distinguished as barbarians. _vide ante_, p. , de maistre's definition of the barbarian. and so the ignorant peasantry when these flints were first dug up, although they had "no tradition," rushed instinctively upon these hatchets and considered them magical, apparently on no better grounds than that they had belonged to a former race of men whom they associated with elves and fairies. was not this their way of saying with cicero, "antiquitas proxime accedit ad deos."[ ] [ ] i find curious testimony to the belief in m. maupertius' (pinkerton, i. - ) account of an expedition of thirty leagues which he was induced to make into the interior of lapland, by the accounts which he had received of a monument which the laplanders "looked upon as the wonder of their country, and in which they conceived was _contained the knowledge of everything_ of which they were ignorant." in the end a monument was found bearing on it the appearance of great antiquity, and an inscription which m. celsius, his companion ("very well acquainted with the runic"), could not read. m. maupertius indeed says, "if the tradition of the country be consulted, all the laplanders assure us that they are characters of great antiquity, containing valuable secrets; but what can one believe in regard to antiquity from those people who do not even know their own age, and who for the greater part are ignorant who were their mothers." without supposing that the mysterious stone actually concealed any valuable and recondite knowledge, i am still struck by this attestation to the belief that antiquity shrouded such secrets; and if, which does not altogether accord with other accounts, the lapps are as ignorant as they are here represented, then it would seem to be true that when mankind lose the knowledge of everything else, they still retain the tradition of their loss and the knowledge of their degradation. concerning the superstitious veneration for stone arrow-heads very generally diffused, _vide_ mr e. t. stevens' "flint chips" (salisbury, , p. .) and so far from tradition supplying us with no clue to solve the problem of the stone age, does it not in this way suggest a very decided though an antagonistic view to that of sir john lubbock. the superstitious regard of the peasantry for these newly found relics--which i presume came under sir john's own observation when exploring the northern coast-finds--is really very curious, because it shows that their ideas and feelings in these matters were, after the lapse of at any rate a thousand years, identical with those of their ancestors. in evidence of which i adduce the following passage from professor nillson, having reference to the legend of the "guse arrows" or "orvar odd's saga":-- "this ancient romance shows very clearly that at the time when it was composed, neither arrows, nor other weapons of stone were in common use as weapons, but _that even then_ the opinion was _generally current_ that these stone weapons, which owed their existence to the dwarf race skilled in sorcery, were endowed with a magic power against witches and witchcraft which no other weapons possessed."--professor nillson, "stone age," p. . but this suggests the further reflection, whether this stone age among certain tribes was not as much in rejection as in ignorance of metals. professor nillson (p. , ) shows that flint was used for _sacred_ sacrificial purposes by the jews, egyptians, phoenicians, and latins, long after they were acquainted with weapons of metal. among these the traditional idea about flint, whatever it was, was kept in due subordination; but among tribes that had sunk into savagery it is conceivable that it may have become a superstition, and dominated. i am not sure that we do not underrate the capacity for tradition among savages where it has once taken hold; still, if it had been a question of mere savages, at the first glance i should have been disposed to agree with sir john lubbock. but let us take the case of tasman, which sir john puts forward as a sort of crucial case, and which may be accepted as such, seeing that the new zealanders may fairly claim to be regarded as "barbarians."[ ] [ ] _vide_ sir george grey's "polynesian mythology," p. xiii.; f. a. weld's (governor of western australia) "notes on new zealand," pp. , . in the first place, i find the following in a note to "cook's voyages" (smith, ):--"mr polack, in his 'narrative of travels and adventures during a residence in new zealand between the years - ,' collected all the particulars relating to cook's brush with the natives, , on the spot." next, let us see what cook says on the subject of tasman ("cook's voyages," i. )-- "but the indians still continued _near the ship_, rowing round many times [hardly the most favourable conditions under which to recover a tradition], conversing with tupia [the otaheitan interpreter] chiefly concerning the traditions they had among them with respect to the antiquities of their country. to this subject they were led by the inquiries which tupia had been directed to make, whether they had ever seen such a vessel as ours, or had ever heard that any such had been on their coast. these inquiries were all answered in the negative, _so that_ tradition has preserved among them no memorial of tasman, though by an observation made this day we find we are _only fifteen_ miles south of murderers' bay!" evidently the shrewd and gallant investigator himself was not satisfied with the cross-examination, for we find at p. -- "when we were under sail one old man, topaa [a native], came on board to take leave of us; and as we were still desirous of making further inquiries whether any memory of tasman had been preserved among their people, tupia was directed to ask him whether he had ever heard that such a vessel as ours had before visited the country. to this he replied in the negative; but said that _his ancestors had told him_ there had once come to this place a _small_ vessel from a distant country called ulimaroa, in which were _four_ men, who upon coming on shore were _all killed_. upon being asked where this distant land lay he pointed to the northward." but what does tasman himself say?-- "on the th december these savages began to grow a little bolder and more familiar, insomuch that at last they ventured on board the _heemskirk_, in order to trade with those in the vessel. as soon as i perceived it, being apprehensive that they might attempt to surprise that ship, _i sent my shallop_, with seven men, to put the people in the _heemskirk_ on their guard, and to direct them not to place any confidence in these people. my seven men, being _without arms_, were attacked by these savages, who _killed three_ of the seven, and _forced_ the other _four_ to swim for their lives; _which_ occasioned my giving that place the name of the bay of murderers.[ ] our ship's company _would undoubtedly_ have taken a severe revenge if the rough weather had not prevented them."--_tasman's voyage of discovery, pinkerton_, xi. [ ] this was a recognition on tasman's part that there was a violation of the law of nations, which he evidently considered ought to have been recognised by these people. for killing unarmed men he does not stigmatise them as savages, but as murderers, which name has clung to the spot and to the transaction to this day. now, i submit that this old man topaa's recollection of the tradition of an event which occurred one hundred and thirty years before his time, was much more perfect than captain cook's, sir joseph banks', dr solander's, and sir j. lubbock's recollection of the same event from geographical records. emboldened by this instance of the fallibility of scientific men, i now proceed to question the truth of the two following propositions of sir j. lubbock, after which i shall ask to be allowed to enunciate a proposition of my own. first, sir j. lubbock says: "it has been asserted over and over again that there is no race of man so degraded as to be entirely without a religion--without some idea of the deity. so far from this being true, the very reverse is the case" (p. ).[ ] [ ] i am aware that what i have opposed to sir j. lubbock is only the contrary and not the contradictory of his proposition. i find, however, that a very competent authority, wilson, "archæology and pre-historic annals of scotland," p. , says: "no people, however rude or debased be their state, have yet been met with so degraded to the level of the brutes as to entertain no notion of a supreme being, or no anticipation of a future state." "all polytheism is based on monotheism; idolatry implies religious feeling."--_bunsen's egypt_, iv. . but in truth it was not a priest or a missionary who first enunciated the contradictory of sir john lubbock's proposition--it was cicero. "itaque ex tot generibus nullum est animal, præter hominem, quod habeat notitiam aliquam dei: ipsisque in hominibus nulla gens est, neque _tam immansueta_, neque _tam fera_, quæ non _etiam si ignoret qualem habere deum deceat_, tamen _habendum sciat_." de legibus; i. . second, "it is a common opinion that savages are, as a general rule, only the miserable remnants of nations once more civilised; but although there are some well-established cases of national decay, there is no scientific evidence which would justify us in asserting that this is generally the case" (p. ). in opposition to the first proposition, i maintain that there is no race of men so degraded as to be without some vestige of religion. and in opposition to the second, i assert that if they have a vestige of religion, and nothing else, they have still that which will convict them of degeneracy. first, to say that a savage has no idea of the deity, is to say merely that he is a savage; and it appears to me that this extinction of all knowledge of the deity among a people, precisely marks the point where the barbarian lapses into the savage. taking the range of the authorities quoted by sir j. lubbock,[ ] i find a great concurrence of testimony to the fact that there is some vestige of religion. one only--whose authority on any other point incidental to african travel i should regard as of the highest value--captain richard burton, asserts without qualification, and in language sufficiently explicit, that "some of the tribes of the lake district of central africa admit neither god, nor angel, nor devil." others assert the same negatively--they did not come upon any signs of religion, any external observances, any trace of ceremonial worship. for instance, it is said that the tasmanians had no word for a creator (p. , lubbock), which need not excite surprise, as it is also said of them that they were incapable of forming any abstract ideas at all (p. , lubbock). again, in many of those cases where it is more or less roundly asserted that there is no vestige of religion, we find it plainly intimated that there is a belief in the devil, _e.g._ lubbock, p. . [ ] i should not have considered it necessary to have entered so elaborately into this argument, if i had previously read the chapter on animism in mr tylor's "primitive culture." the instances, however, which follow will stand as supplementary. "the tonpinambas of brazil had _no religion_, though if the name is applied 'à des notions fantastiques d'êtres surnaturals et puissans on ne sauroit nier qu'ils n'eussent une croyance religieuse et _même une sorte_ de culte exterieur.'"--_freycinet_, i. . now, although the devil may, and in many instances no doubt has,[ ] made a special revelation of himself to his votaries, the ordinary channel of information concerning him is through tradition, and through the tradition of the fall of man. [ ] sir j. lubbock says (p. ) of the feegee islanders: "they did not worship idols, but many of the priests seem to have really thought that they had been in actual communication with the atona; and some of the early missionaries were inclined to believe that satan may have been permitted to practise a deception upon them, in order to strengthen his power. however extraordinary this may appear, the same was the case in tahiti." but i ask further of those who dispute this, if savages are found with this fear of the supernatural world, after they have lost the idea of god, how do they get it? if not from tradition, then from reflection? but savages do not reason (lubbock, p. ). moreover, at p. , sir j. lubbock says, what really brings us very nearly to agreement, "how, for instance, can a people who are unable to count their own fingers, possibly raise their minds so far as to admit even the rudiments of a religion?" this is said with reference to a previous allegation, "that those who assert that even the lowest savages believe in a deity, affirm that which is entirely contrary to the evidence" (p. ). but there is a great concurrence of evidence that "even the lowest savages" believe in the devil. belief in the devil involves a realisation more or less obscure of the fallen angel, of the spirit of evil--and this for the savage who "cannot count his fingers" is as great an intellectual effort as would be, merely considered as an intellectual effort, a belief in the deity. on any theory of growth or development how could he ("the lowest savage") have got the idea? several writers who are quoted, whilst they deny the existence of any notion of religion among a particular people, mention facts which are incompatible with that statement. i may also say, parenthetically, that to detect or elicit the sentiment of religion in others, one must have something of the sentiment in ourselves; _e.g._ there is the instance of kolben (lubbock, p. ), "who, _in spite_ of the assertions of the natives themselves, _felt quite sure_ that certain dances _must be_ of a religious character, let the hottentots say what they will." now i must say there is great _à priori_ probability in the truth of kolben's conviction, although he was probably led to it merely by the insight of his own mind. let it be taken in connection with the following evidence in washington irving's "life of columbus," iii. - :-- "the _dances_ to which the natives seemed so immoderately addicted, and which had been _at first_ considered by the spaniards mere idle pastimes, were _found_ to be often _ceremonials of a serious and mystic character_." again--"peter martyn observes that they performed these dances to the chant of certain metres and ballads _handed down from_ generation to generation, in which were rehearsed the deeds of their ancestors. some of these ballads were of a _sacred_ character, containing their _traditional_ notions of theology, and the superstitions and fables which comprised their religious creeds." pritchard, "researches into phys. hist. of man" (i. p. ), quoting oldendorp, and speaking of the african negroes, says:--"at the annual harvest feast, which _nearly all_ the nations of guinea solemnise, thank-offerings are brought to the deity. these festivals are days of rejoicing, which the negroes pass with feasting and dancing." _vide_ also "hist. of indian tribes of north america, portraits from the ind. gal. in depart. of war at washington, by t. m'kenney (late ind. dep. wash.) and j. hall of cincinnati" (philadelphia, ). "dancing is among the most prominent of the aboriginal _ceremonies_; there is no tribe in which it is not practised. the indians have their _war_ dance and their _peace_ dance, their dance of _mourning for the dead_, their _begging_ dance, their pipe dance, their green-corn dance, and their wabana (an offering to the devil). each of these is distinguished by some peculiarity ... though to a stranger they appear much alike, except the last.... it is a ceremony and not a recreation, and is conducted with a seriousness belonging to an important public duty." at p. (lubbock) it is said, "admiral fitzroy never witnessed or heard of any act of a decidedly religious character among the fuegians." still, as sir john admits, "some of the natives suppose that there is a great black man in the woods who knows everything, and cannot be escaped." if this is not the devil, it looks very like him. again, p. , mr mathews says, speaking of the fuegians, "he sometimes heard a great howling or lamentation about _sunrise_ in the morning; and upon asking jemmy button what occasioned the outcry, he could obtain no satisfactory answer; the boy only saying, 'people very sad, cry very much.'" upon which sir john remarks, "this appears so natural and sufficient an explanation, that why the outcry should be 'supposed to be devotional' i must confess myself unable to see" ( ). now, if this was not their traditional notion and mode of prayer, degraded according to the measure of their degeneracy, the degeneracy is at least proved in another way, for, being still reasonable beings, they had, according to the account, congregated together to send up a lamentation, which, if it was not prayer, could be likened only to the moonlight howling of wolves. this mode of prayer resembles what father loyer and the missionary oldendorp (pritchard, i. ) tells us of the negroes. father loyer "declares that they have a belief in a universally powerful being, and to him they address prayers. every morning after _they rise_ they go to the river side to wash, and throwing a handful of water on their head, or pouring sand with it to express their humility, they join their hands and then open them, whisper softly the word 'exsuvais.'" oldendorp says (p. ): "the negroes profess their dependence on the deity, ... they pray _at the rising_ and setting of the sun,[ ] on eating and drinking, and when they go to war." compare also helps' "spanish conquest in america," i. :-- "the worship of the peruvians was not the mere worship of the sun alone as of the most beautiful and powerful thing which they beheld; but they had _also_ a worship of a far more elevated and refined nature, addressed to pachacamac, the soul of the universe, _whom_ they hardly dared to name; and when they were obliged to name this being, they did so inclining the head and the whole body, now _lifting_ up the eyes to heaven, now lowering them to the ground, and _giving kisses in the air_. to pachacamac they made no temple and offered no sacrifices, but they adored him in their hearts."[ ] [ ] after all, is there not something in their mode of prayer which recalls the language of psalm cxl., "dirigatur oratio mea sicut incensum in conspectu tuo: _elevatio manuum mearum sacrificium vespertinum_." if the reader will refer to bunsen's "egypt," &c. vol. i. p. , he will find "a man with uplifted arms" as the ideographic sign ( ) for "to praise, glorification," which is in evidence not only that it was the natural but the traditional mode. [ ] garcilasso de la vega's authority is so unimpeachable, and at the same time his testimony is so unmistakable on this point, that it will be as well to give his own words, as he was well acquainted with the peruvian traditions, through his mother, who was one of the yncas. he adds: "when the indians were asked who pachacamac was, they replied that he it was who gave life to the universe, and supported it; but that they knew him not, for they had never _seen_ him, and that for this reason they did not build temples to him, nor offer him sacrifices; but that they worshipped him in their hearts (mentally), and considered him to be an _unknown god_.... from this it is clear, that these indians considered him to be the maker of all things." hakluyt ed. of garcil. de la vega's "royal commentaries of the yncas," ed. c. markham, , i. . he further remarks that, whereas they hesitated to pronounce the name of pachacamac, "they spoke of the sun on every occasion." compare the accounts we have of the guanches. m. pegot ogier, "the fortunate isles" (canaries), , says (p. ), that a comparison of the chronicles of the conquest shows that, "far from being idolaters, the guanches worshipped one god, the creator and preserver of the world," and that (p. ), "in their worship, they _raised their hands_ to heaven, and sacrificed on the mountains by pouring milk on the ground from a _height_; their milk was carried in a sacred vase called _ganigo_." the name of their god, "achoron achaman" = "he who upholds the heaven and earth," and "achuhuyahan achuhucanac" = "he who sustains every one," has resemblances with "pachacamac" = "pacha," the earth; and "camac" participle of "camani," "i create."--(c. markham, hakluyt ed. of garcil. de la vega, i. .) at p. sir john somewhat too roundly asserts that "dr hooker tells us that the lepchas of northern india have _no religion_." turning to dr hooker's "himalayan journal," i find (i. ), "the lepchas profess no religion, _though_ acknowledging the existence of good and bad spirits.... both lepchas and limboos _had, before the_ introduction of lama boodhism from tibet, many features in common with the natives of arracan, especially in _their creed_, _sacrifices_, faith in omens, worship of many spirits, absence of idols, and of the doctrine of metempsychosis" (p. ). we have already seen (_supra_, p. ) that they had a very distinct tradition of the deluge; indeed there is much in the account of them which reminds us of the primitive monotheism. so, too, sir john asserts, p. , "once more dr hooker states that the khasias, an indian tribe, _had no religion_. col. yule, on the contrary, says that they have, but he admits that breaking hens' eggs is the principal part of their religious practice." it is true that dr hooker says (ii. ), "the khasias are superstitious, but have no religion;" he adds, however, "_like the lepchas, they believe in a supreme being_, and in deities of the grove, cave, and stream." it seems, however, that the only outward manifestation of their religion is in "breaking hens' eggs"! what can be more ludicrous! yet here, too, would seem to be a vestige of primitive tradition. we know (_vide_ wilkinson, "ancient egyptians," second series) how primitive truth was concealed under material symbols. gainet (i. ) also says, "even upon the hypothesis that these fragments of the egyptian cosmogony were lost, one of the hieroglyphics which this people has left us would suffice to convince us of their belief in a creator. it is the image of the god kneph, whom they represent with _an egg_ in his mouth; _this egg_ being the natural image of the world taking its birth from this divinity." again, p. , "in the mysteries of bacchus[ ] the dogma of the creation was proposed under the emblem of that celebrated _egg_, of which the poets have so often spoken, which contained the germ of all things." "_the egg_," says plutarch, "is consecrated to the sacred ceremonies of bacchus, as a representation of the author of nature who produces and comprehends all things in himself." there is a passage in athenagoras to the same effect. [ ] compare with pp. , . superstitions were also connected with cocks and hens in khasia. whether these again were connected with the symbolical representation of the egg can only be conjectured. it may possibly be that the representation had a common origin with the cock of apollo and the cock of Æsculapius, if, indeed, these were not also originally derived from the same primal conception. this would be only to renew the old classical dispute as to whether the hen proceeded from the egg, or the egg from the hen, which i take to be only the form in which the great question of the first cause was debated by the gentile world after their ideas of a creator had become indistinct, and with reference to this ancient symbol. however that may be, i wish to point out that this ceremonial use of the cock may be traced in europe, asia, and africa: _e.g. asia_--"the lepchas scatter eggs and pebbles over the graves of their friends.... among the limboos, the priests of a higher order than the lepcha, bijoras officiate at marriages, when a _cock_ is put into the bride-groom's hands, and a _hen_ into those of the bride. the phedangbo then cuts off the birds' heads, when the blood is caught in a plantain leaf, and runs into pools, from which omens are drawn" (dr hooker, "himalayan journal," i. ). _africa_--_vide_ pritchard, "phys. hist. of man," i. , , : "even the dead are not buried without sacrifices. a white hen is slain by the priest before the corpse comes to the grave, and the bier whereon the body lies is sprinkled with its blood. this custom was introduced by the nation of kagraut." _europe_--if any one will turn to the _illustrated london news_ of nov. , , he will find an account and illustration of a local ceremony peculiar to the village of gorbio in the maritime alps, in which the priest, on a particular day in the year, is solemnly presented with four cocks hung upon a halberd--together with an apple by the bachelors and spinsters of the village--from which it would seem to have had originally some connection, as we have seen above, with a marriage ceremony. wilson ("archæologia") remarks that the custom of "easter, or, in the north, paste eggs (pasch), was very prevalent in the north."[ ] [ ] compare the following passage in the bishop of chalons' "le monde et l'homme primitif" (with reference to gen. i.--the creation). at p. the bishop says, "that when the book of the law of manou and the mahabarata relate that god, who contains within himself his own principle in the first instance, the water, and gave it fecundity, and that the produce of this fecundity became _an egg_, ... can we see in this anything else than the fantastic translation of this phrase of scripture, 'l'esprit de dieu _couvait_ la surface des eaux--rouha elohim meharephet hal pene hammaïm.'" _vide_ also p. (as to universality of tradition) and p. as to text also. j. g. vance ("archæol." xix.) says, upon the mundane egg "the whole system of ancient religion was based" (j. b. waring, "stone monuments of remote ages," p. , ). it strikes me that it would be difficult to assign a christian origin for the custom. it must then have been a custom which the church diverted or sanctioned in giving it an innocent or christian application; in which case, in so far as it is pagan, it may possibly be traced to a common origin with the practices in khasia among the lepchas. it would extend the inquiry too far to follow sir j. lubbock through all the cases adduced by him. i will conclude, therefore, with his account of the andaman islander--who, with the australians, esquimaux, and fuegians, dispute the point of being considered the lowest of mankind. it is said of the andamans, "that they have no idea of a supreme being, no religion, or any belief in a future state of existence" (p. ). it is, however, casually mentioned that, "after death, the corpse is buried in a sitting posture." now this mode of burial is common to them with esquimaux (p. ), the australians (p. ), the maories (p. ), and the natives of the feegee islands (p. ), among whom we seem to get a clue to this strange mode of burial; "the fact is, _they_ (the feegee islanders) not only believe in a future state, but are persuaded that as they leave this life, so will they rise again." sir j. lubbock, in his "introduction to prof. nillson" (xxxiii.), says that this was the common mode of burial in the stone age; and prescott ("hist. of mexico," ii. ) says, "who can doubt the existence of an affinity, or at least an intercourse, between tribes, who had _the same strange habit of burying the dead in a sitting position_, as was practised to some extent by most if _not all_ of the aborigines from canada to patagonia?"[ ] but not only may it be presumed that they had an affinity and intercourse, but a common religious idea. it may be doubted then whether even the naked andaman is so entirely destitute of all religious impressions as he is supposed to be. [ ] i find, in _archæological journal_, no. , , p. , that corpses in a sitting posture were found under the long cromlechs in south jutland. i have already urged that if any vestiges of religion remain they must be considered as evidence of tradition and proof of degeneracy. i think the following reflection will tend to clench this argument. although it is obscure and disputed to what extent certain savages do retain glimmerings of religion, it is certain and admitted that some savages have religion and a religious ceremonial. now, as sir j. lubbock says, "how, for instance, can a people who are unable to count upon their fingers possibly raise their minds so far as to admit even the rudiments of religion." it is clear, then, that the lowest grade of mankind did not invent it, how then did the higher grade get it, "assuming always the unity of the human race"? finally, if man commenced with the knowledge of the devil, how did they proceed on to the idea of god? "the first idea of a god is almost always as an evil spirit" (lubbock, p. ). how then did they advance to the knowledge of the god of purity and love, or even of "the great spirit" of the indians?[ ] [ ] _vide_ dr newman's "grammar of assent," p. , _et seq._ let us at least know whether it is supposed that this was the order of knowledge ordained by divine providence, or whether it is believed that man in this manner developed the idea of god out of his own consciousness, his primitive, or perhaps innate, idea being, the conception of evil and of the evil spirit.[ ] sir john says (p. ), "there are no just grounds for expecting man to be ever endued with a sixth sense." but why not? if by his own mental vigour he can out of the primitive idea of evil generate the idea of good--what may we not expect? [ ] _per contra_, i invite sir j. lubbock's attention to the following passage from mr gladstone's "homer" (ii. ), "as _the derivative idea_ of sin depended upon that of _goodness_, and as the shadow ceases to be visible when the object shadowed has become more dim, we might well expect that the contraction and obscuration of the true idea of goodness would bring about a more than proportionate loss of knowledge concerning the true nature of evil. the impersonation of evil could only be upheld in a lively or effectual manner as the opposite of the impersonation of good; and when the moral standard of godhead had so greatly degenerated, as we find to be the case even in the works of homer, the negation of that standard could not but cease to be either interesting or intelligible. accordingly we find that the _process of disintegration_, followed by that of arbitrary reassortment and combination of elements, had proceeded to a more advanced stage _with respect to the tradition of the evil one_ than in the other cases." yet, if any one will compare the evidence which sir john has collected, he will come, i think, to the conclusion, that the invention and adaptability of the savage is very slight indeed. he will find (p. ) that the inhabitants of botany bay had fish-hooks, but no nets; those of western australia, nets but not hooks; that those who had the throwing-stick and boomerang, were ignorant both of slings and bows and arrows; that those who had retained the knowledge of the bow did not pass on to the use of the bola; that the northern tribes visited by kane were skilful in the capture of birds with nets, yet were entirely ignorant of fishing ( ); that the nearest approach to the south american bola is among the esquimaux ( ); that the throwing-stick is common only to the widely distant esquimaux, australians, and some of the brazilian tribes (_id._); that the "sumpitan" or blowpipe of the malays occurs only in the valley of the amazons. does not this point to a traditional knowledge of these things? nevertheless, this mass of evidence seems to have produced the very opposite conviction with sir j. lubbock. "on the whole, then, from a review of all these and other similar facts which _might have been_ mentioned, it seems to me most probable that many of the simpler weapons, implements, &c., have been invented independently by various savage tribes, although there are no doubt also cases in which they have been borrowed by one tribe from another" (p. ). instances in which they have been borrowed from each other are not infrequent, but then neither are they inconsistent with the theory of tradition; but the instances of invention _are limited to one_. (see for instance p. .) at p. we find--"although they (the esquimaux) had no knowledge of pottery, captain cook saw at unalashka vessels "of flat stone, with sides of clay, not unlike a standing pye." we here obtain an idea of the manner in which the knowledge of pottery _may have been_ developed. after using clay to raise the sides of their stone vessels, it _would_ naturally occur to them, that the same substance would serve for the bottom also, and thus the use of stone _might be_ replaced by a more convenient material." recollecting how roast pig came to be discovered, it cannot be said to be impossible that pottery may thus have been invented; but in this instance it might equally have been the rough substitute for the pottery of their recollection. besides, the proof is wanting that they ever did pass on to the invention of pottery. it may, for anything we know to the contrary, be in this inchoate state amongst them still. now, until further evidence is forthcoming, i shall take the liberty of maintaining that savages seem to show no inventive faculty or power of recovery in themselves.[ ] whatever they possess seems to be limited to what they have retained of primitive civilisation, and what they have retained of civilisation seems exactly in proportion to what they have retained of primitive religion. [ ] sir j. lubbock ("pre-historic times," p. ) says, "the largest erection in tahiti was constructed by the generation living at the time of captain cook's visit, and the practice of cannibalism had been recently abandoned." for these statements he refers to forster, "observations made during a voyage round the world," p. , a work i have not at hand, and also ellis, "polynesian researches," ii. p. . i have made the reference to the latter, but i do not find a syllable about cannibalism; and as to the other point ellis says, "in the bottom of every valley, even to the recesses in the mountains ... stone pavements of their dwellings and courtyards, foundations of houses and ruins of family temples, _are numerous_.... _all these relics_ are of the _same kind_ as those observed among the nations at the time of _their discovery_, evidently proving that they belong to the same race, though to a more populous era of their history." i draw attention to this inadvertence, as the above instances (two) are the most important of the four which sir j. lubbock adduces in support of his view. _vide_ appendix. in supporting this proposition i shall hardly have occasion to go beyond the four corners of sir j. lubbock's "pre-historic times." it is indeed a moot point with the travellers and ethnologists who have given their attention to the subject, which race of savages is "the lowest in the scale of civilisation." in this competitive examination a concurrence of opinion seems to decide in favour of the fuegian, who at any rate is miserable enough, living, when better food fails him, on raw and putrid flesh, eked out with cannibalism; and whose clothing (in central fuego) consists "in a scrap of otter skin, about as large as a pocket handkerchief, laced across the breast with strings, and shifted according to the wind" (darwin, _apud_ lubbock). their religion, as we have just seen, consists in a vague apprehension of the black man who lives up in the woods--and their prayer is something slightly elevated above the howl of the wolf. their civilisation, therefore, like their religion, may be considered to be at a "minimum." the australians have been called "the miserablest people in the world" (p. ). they are said to have "no religion or any kind of prayer, but most of them believe in evil spirits, and all have a dread of witchcraft" (p. ). here again we see their civilisation degraded _pari-passu_ with their religious belief--so, too, with the andaman (_vide supra_) and the tasmanian (p. ). when, however, we come to the inhabitants of the feegee islands, not greatly different from the people surrounding them, their characteristics, manners, and customs being partly nigrito and partly polynesian, although in the matter of cannibalism they are simply horrible, and eat their kind, not on any high notion that they are appropriating the spirit and glory of him whom they devour (_vide_ lubbock, ), but from a repulsive preference; yet they have a distinct notion of religion, with temples, and ceremonies, and we are told they look down upon the samoans because they had no religion. well, we find the feegeeans in a state of material civilisation exactly corresponding--they live in well built houses, to feet long and feet high, in fortified towns, with earthen ramparts, surmounted by a reed fence, &c. "their temples were pyramidal in form, and were often erected on terraced mounds like those of central america" (p. ). they had efficient weapons, agricultural implements, well-constructed canoes, and (p. ) pottery.[ ] [ ] the duke of argyll, balancing the conclusions of archbishop whately and sir j. lubbock ("primeval man," p. ), says, "whately defies the supporter of development to produce a single case of savages having raised themselves. sir j. lubbock replies by defying his opponent to show that it has not been done and done often. he urges, and urges as it seems to me with truth, that the great difficulty of teaching many savages the arts of civilised life, is no proof whatever that the various degrees of advance towards the knowledge of those arts which are actually found among semi-barbarous nations may not have been of strictly indigenous growth. _thus it appears that one tribe of red indians called mandans_ practised the art of _fortifying_ their towns. _surrounding tribes_, although they saw the advantage derived from this art, yet _never practised_ it, and _never learned it_." so far as to the fact. the duke of argyll continues the argument on the side of sir j. lubbock. but what i wish to indicate is that this crucial instance of the mandans may be triumphantly adduced in support of my proposition. why, these are the _very mandans_ among whom catlin and the prince maxmilian of neuwied discovered the curious commemorative ceremony of the deluge! _vide_ ch. xi. when, however, we come to the tahitians we find a very high state of civilisation. of their religion it is said--"that though they worshipped numerous deities," and sometimes sacrificed to them, "yet they were not idolators." "captain cook found their religion, like that of most other countries, involved in mystery and perplexed with apparent inconsistencies." they had a priesthood (p. ). "they believed in the immortality of the soul, and in two situations of different degrees of happiness somewhat analogous to our heaven and hell, though not regarded as places of reward and punishment; but the one intended 'for the chief and superior classes,' 'the other for the people of inferior rank.'" this is substantially captain cook's account of the tahitians, and allowing it to be exact, although i have a suspicion that a missionary would have put it somewhat differently,[ ] it shows a comparative state of religion very much elevated above anything we have yet seen. they had besides curious customs, such as that of eating apart. "they ate alone," they said, "because it was right, but why it was right they were unable to explain"--a custom which is common to them with the bachapins (p. ), (who, _by the way_, are also among the races classified as "of no religion"). although the inhabitants of tahiti present to us a much higher standard of religion and morality than we have yet met with, _also_ "they, on the whole, may be taken as representing _the highest stage_ in civilisation to which man has in any country raised himself, before the discovery or introduction of metallic implements" (lubbock, p. ). [ ] since writing the above, i have referred to wallis and bougainville. wallis could not discover "that these people had any kind of religious worship among them." bougainville says "that their principal deity is called 'ein-t-era,' _i.e._ 'king of _light_' or 'of the sun'; besides whom they acknowledge a number of inferior divinities, some of whom produce evil and others good; that the general name for these _ministering_ spirits is eatona; and that the natives suppose _two_ of these divinities attend _each affair of consequence in human life_, determining its fate either advantageously or otherwise. to one circumstance our author speaks in decisive terms. he says, when the moon exhibits a certain aspect which bears the name of 'malama tamai' (the moon is in a state of war), the natives offer up human sacrifices.... when any one sneezes, his companions cry out 'eva-rona-t-eatona,' _i.e._ 'may the good genius awaken thee,' or 'may not the evil genius lull thee asleep.'" captain king ("journal of transactions on returning to the sandwich islands," &c., pinkerton, xi. ) says of the sandwich islanders, "the religion of these people resembles in most of its principal features _that of the society and friendly islands_. their morais, their whattas, their idols, their sacrifices, and their sacred songs, _all of which_ they have in common with each other, are _convincing proofs_ that their religious notions are derived _from the same source_." it is impossible within these limits to investigate every case. i have taken the more salient cases, as instanced by sir j. lubbock, and contrasted them. i now wish to present the contrast in somewhat livelier form, and i do not see that i can do better than to present to the reader two scenes precisely similar, as to substance, yet under different conditions, in different parts of the world. the first shall be a description of "a whale ashore," by sir j. lubbock, among the australians; and the second, a description of the same scene by catlin ("last rambles, &c., among the indians of vancouver's island"). i must preface that sir j. lubbock says that the australians "have no religion nor any idea of prayer, but most of them believe in evil spirits, and all have great dread of witchcraft" (p. ). the following is the scene to which i refer:-- "they are not, so far as i am aware, able to kill whales for themselves, but when one is washed on shore it is a real godsend to them. fires are immediately lit to give notice of the joyful event.... for days they remain by the carcase, rubbed from head to foot with the stinking blubber, gorged to repletion with putrid meat, out of temper from indigestion, and therefore engaged in constant frays, suffering from a continuous disorder from high feeding, and altogether a disgusting spectacle."--_capt. grey, apud lubbock_, p. . this is one picture; now for the other. it may be said that it is only the different idiosyncrasies of the writers transferred to their pages--that one is the narrative of _jean qui pleure_, &c., or of the _médicin tant pis_, &c.; but i do not think so. mr catlin premises by telling us that the scene occurred when on a visit with the chief of the klah-o-gnats, of whom he says that he knew at first sight by his actions that he was "a chief, and by the expression of his face that he was a good man," and whom his companion described as "a very fine old fellow; that man is a gentleman; i'd trust myself anywhere with that man." of their religion, the chief himself told catlin that on that western coast of vancouver's island "they all believed in a great spirit, who created them and all things, and that they all have times and places when and where they pray to that spirit, that he may not be angry with them." one day came the startling announcement that a whale was ashore. "the sight was imposing when we came near to it, but not until we came around it on the shore side had i any idea of the scene i was to witness. some hundreds, if not thousands of indians, of all ages and sexes, and in all colours, were gathered around it, and others constantly arriving. some were lying, others standing and sitting in groups; some were asleep and others eating and drinking, and others were singing and dancing." the monster was secured by twenty or thirty harpoons, to which ropes were attached. "these were watched, and at every lift of a wave moving the monster nearer the shore, they were tightened on the harpoons, and at low tide the carcass is left on dry land, a great distance from the water.... the dissection of this monstrous creature, and its distribution amongst the thousands who would yet be a day or two in getting together, the interpreter informed us, would not be commenced until all the claimants arrived." several immense baskets had been brought in which to carry away the blubber. the possession of these baskets made all the difference in the scene which followed. to some this will be a sufficient explanation. how, then, did the others come to know nothing of baskets? truly there are people who cannot be made to see the effect of "character upon clover." i rely, however, upon the broad lines of the contrast. the absence in this latter scene of the disgusting sights above so graphically described--their quick use of the harpoons--and the general order and equity of the distribution. "a whale ashore," mr catlin says ("last rambles," p. ), "is surely a gift from heaven for these poor people, and they receive it and use it as such." whilst quoting from catlin, i must be allowed to refer my readers to the very striking proof (p. ) he incidentally affords of the theory of degeneracy in his comparative illustration of the heads of the alto and bas peruvian, and of the crow and modern flathead:-- "the crow of the rocky mountains and the alto-peruvian of _the andes_, being the two great original fountains of american man, to whom all the tribes point as their origin, and on whom, of course, all the tribes have looked as the _beau ideals_ of the indian race. the flathead (letter _c_), aiming at the crow skull (like the copyists of most fashions), has carried the copy into a caricature; and the bas-peruvian (_d_), aiming at the _elevated frontal_ of the mountain regions, has squeezed his up with circular bandages to equally monstrous proportions." also _vide_ prescott's "mexico," ii. , th ed., . "anatomists also have discerned in crania disinterred from the mounds, and in those of the inhabitants of the high plains of _the cordilleras_ an _obvious difference_ from those of the more barbarous tribes. this is seen especially in the _ampler forehead_, intimating a decided intellectual superiority.... such is the conclusion of dr warren, whose excellent collection has afforded him ample means for study and comparison." before quitting this subject i must revive a question which i think sir john lubbock will admit, if he turns to the evidence dispersed in his pages, is at present involved in some obscurity. it is simply this, "how did the savage come by the knowledge of fire?" sir john lubbock suggests (p. ) "that in making flint instruments sparks would be produced; in polishing them it would not fail to be observed that they became hot, and in this way it is easy to see how the two methods of obtaining fire may have originated.... in obtaining fire _two totally different_ methods are followed; _some_ savages, as for instance the fuegians, using percussion, while others, as the south-sea islanders, rub one piece of wood against another.... opinions are divided whether we have any trustworthy record of a people without the means of obtaining fire" (p. ). to this point i shall recur. i will now give sir john's quotation from mr dove: "although fire was well known to them (the tasmanians), some tribes at least appear to have been ignorant whence it was originally obtained, or how, if extinguished, it could be relighted. in all their wanderings," says mr dove, "they were particularly careful to bear in their hands the materials for kindling a fire. their memory supplies them _with no instances_ of a period in which they were obliged to draw upon their _inventive powers_ for the means of resuscitating an element so essential to their health and comfort as flame. how it came originally into their possession is unknown. _whether_ it may be viewed as the _gift of nature_ or the product of art and sagacity, they _cannot recollect a period when it was a desideratum_" ("tasmanian journal of natural science," i. , _apud_ lubbock, p. ).[ ] [ ] the "popul vul" (pp. - , paris, , _vide_ baring gould, "origin and development of religious belief," p. ) gives an instance--or embodies a reminiscence--of a people who had lost the tradition of fire. "then arrived the tribes perishing with cold, ... and all the tribes were gathered, shivering and quaking with cold, when they came before the leaders of the iniches.... great was their misery. 'will you not compassionate us,' they asked; 'we ask only a little fire. were we not all one, and with one country, when we were first created? have pity on us.' 'what will you give us that we should compassionate you,' was the answer made to them.... it was answered, 'we will inquire of tohil'" (their fire-god); and then follows the horrible condition of human sacrifices to be offered to their fire-god tohil, with reference to which mr b. gould quotes it. _vide supra_, p. , tradition among the sioux indians, of fire having been sent to them from heaven after the deluge. in colden's "five indian nations," p. , i find an indian chief says: "now before the christians arrived, the general council of the five nations was held at onondaga, where there has from _the beginning_ a _continual fire_ been kept burning; it is made of two great logs, _whose fire never extinguishes_." now, if it is a tenable opinion--and at least these are the statements of father gobien, and of alvaro de saavedra, and of commodore wilkes, to whose testimony i shall revert, that there are some tribes who are unacquainted with fire--that there are some who have and some who have not the art of rekindling fire, then arises the question whether those who have it not have lost the art, or whether those who now possess it invented it. if they did not invent it, they must have held it as a tradition, until, reaching a lower point of degradation still, they lost it. mr dove's testimony to this effect is very strong. what an emblem that never-extinguished torch of primitive tradition! we find the same tradition among the american indians. "the chippeways and natchez tribes are said to have an institution for keeping up a perpetual fire, certain persons being set aside and devoted to this occupation" (lubbock, p. ). freycinet certainly declares that peré gobien's statement, that the inhabitants of the ladrone were totally unacquainted with fire until magellan burnt one of their villages, to be "entirely without foundation." "the language," he says, "of the inhabitants contains words for fire, burning, charcoal, oven, grilling, boiling, &c." again, as against commodore wilkes' assertion as an eye-witness, that he saw no appearance of fire in the island of fakaafo, and that the natives were very much alarmed when they saw sparks struck from flint and steel, we are told that "hale gives a list of faakaafo words in which we find _asi_ for fire" (lubbock, p. ). however, sir john does not attribute to this argument the same force that mr tylor does, as _asi_ is evidently the same word as the new zealand _ahi_, which denotes light and heat as well as fire.[ ] if, then, we have positive evidence that they have not the thing (wilkes), and also evidence that they have the word (_vide_ note), does not this prove that it is a tradition which they have lost? and is there not the presumption that they have lost it through degeneracy? [ ] i find, in falkner's "description of patagonia," &c., (falkner resided near ° ' in those parts), "that in the vocabulary of the moluches, although the word for 'fire' is 'k'tal,' the word for 'hot' is '_asee_,' 'cold' 'chosea.'" but sir j. lubbock admits "asi" is the same word as "ahi," and if "ahi" denotes light and heat, _it also_ signifies fire. should we not expect, at least ought it to cause surprise, that the word for "fire," where poverty of language may be presumed, should stand also for light and heat? in the andaman vocabulary (earl's "papuans") "ahay" is their word for the sun--in which the two senses seem to combine. in shortland's "comp. table of polynesian dialects" ("traditions of the new zealanders"), i find _ahi_ means fire, and not light. ---------+------------+------------+-------------+----------------- |new zealand.| raratonga. | navigator's | sandwich islands | | | (savaii). | (hawaii). +------------+------------+-------------+----------------- _fire_ = | ahi.[c] | ai. | afi. | ahi. ---------+------------+------------+-------------+----------------- [c] and as would appear from shortland (_id._ pp. , , "_ao_," a seemingly cognate though not identical word with "ahi," is the new zealand word for light. but in bougainville's "vocabulary of faiti (otaheite) island," i find again "eaï," _i.e._ their word for _fire_, whereas their word for light, not darkness, is "eouramaï" and "po" = day light), whilst they have a distinct word for "hot" = "ivera"--"era" being the sun. compare sanscrit "aghni" = ignis, fire.--_vide_ card. wiseman, "science and revealed religion," p. , th ed. appendix to chapter xii. compare the following account of the new zealanders:-- "shut out from the rest of the world, without any to set them a pattern of what was right or to reprove what was wrong, is it surprising that morally they should have degenerated, even from the standard of their forefathers? they were not always addicted to war, neither were they always cannibals; _the remembrance of the origin_ of these horrid customs is _still preserved amongst them_. if the progressive development theory were true, aboriginal races should have progressively advanced; every successive generation should have added some improvement to the one which preceded it; but experience proves the contrary. a remarkable instance of this may be adduced in the fact, that the new zealanders have retrograded, even since the days of captain cook; they then possessed large double canoes, decked, with houses on them similar to those of tahiti and hawaii, in which, traditionally, their ancestors arrived; it is now more than half a century since the last was seen. tradition also states that they had finer garments in former days and of different kinds; that, like their reputed ancestors, they made cloth from the bark of trees--the name is preserved, but the manufacture has ceased. there are remains also in their language which would lead us to suppose that, like the inhabitants of tonga, they once possessed a kingly form of government, and though they have now no term to express that high office, still they have words which are evidently derived from the very one denoting a king in tonga. their traditions, which are preserved, also establish the same fact, and perhaps one of the strongest proofs is their language; its fulness, its richness, and close affinity not only in words but in grammar to the sanscrit, carries the mind back to a time when literature could not have been unknown." from "te ika a maui," or "new zealand and its inhabitants," by the rev. richard taylor, m.a., f.g.s., a missionary in new zealand for more than thirty years, pp. , . chapter xiii. _noah and the golden age._ taking as the basis of this theory that the law of nations forms part of a tradition, that the stream of this tradition has never ceased to flow, and that the diffusion of its waters has ever been the source and condition of fecundity; and further, that this tradition in its main current has run in the channels which dr newman (_infra_, p. ) has indicated--for although there are other reservoirs, they have become stagnant, and exist like the fresh-water lake, the bahr-i-nedjig (_vide_ rawlinson's "ancient monarchies," i. ), whose waters are "fresh and sweet" so long as they communicate with the euphrates, but when they are cut off become "unpalatable," so that those "who dwell in the vicinity are no longer able to drink of it"--taking these various facts as the basis, we come inevitably to the question--whence this tradition arose, and upon what authority and sanction it rests? in answer to this i do not hesitate to affirm that presumptively it goes back to the commencement of human history, and more demonstrably to that commencement--which for historical and practical purposes is sufficient--the era of noah. i propose now to inquire how near this theory can be brought to the facts. a fairer opportunity could hardly have been afforded for ascertaining the force and fulness of primitive tradition than the discovery of the american continent; yet this opportunity was totally disregarded by the spanish conquerors,[ ]--rough men, and for the most part the offscourings of spain,--and its evidences were but sparsely and negligently collected by the explorers of a different character who followed at a later date. [ ] the works of garcilasso de la vega, valera, p. de cieza, and de sahagun must be excepted. as an instance of the neglect which we have reason to regret, the former gives an account of one only (the raymi) of the four annual festivals of the peruvians.--hakluyt soc. ed. ii. . he gives the name, however, of another--namely, the _si_tua. something, however, of primitive tradition has been thus preserved (_vide_ help's "spanish conquest of america," i. , , ; prescott, "mexico," i. ). indeed, the approximation to the biblical narrative is so close that the suspicion would be quite reasonable that missionaries of whom we have no record had found their way to these people before the continent became known to us; or that the people themselves were of jewish descent; or that they had left the asiatic mainland subsequently to the preaching of st thomas the apostle. manco capac (_vide infra_), according to this conjecture, may have been one of these missionaries; or it may even be that in the venerable image which the description calls up we see in vision the apostle himself. when, however, the description is compared with the traditions i have collated of a patriarchal character--still more remote and venerable, "him of mazy counsel--saturn" (hesiod), i shall ask the reader to decide whether the more improbable conjecture, measured according to time and distance, has not the greater weight of evidence. i proceed to place in juxtaposition a recapitulation of the classical and oriental traditions, and the quotations from helps above referred to. "one peculiar circumstance, as humboldt remarks, is very much to be noted in the ancient records and traditions of the indian nations. in no less than three remarkable instances has superior civilisation been attributed to the sudden presence amongst them of persons differing from themselves in appearance and descent." [as to the argument to be derived from colour and appearance, _vide supra_, p. .] "bochica, a white man with a beard, appeared to the mozca indians in the plains of bogota, _taught them how to build and to sow_, formed them _into communities_, gave an outlet _to the waters of the great lake_ [compare _supra_, p. , chronology], and having settled the government, civil and ecclesiastical, retired into a monastic state of penitence for two thousand years.[ ] [ ] probably a tradition of the penitence of adam. "in like manner manco capac, accompanied by his sister mama ocllo, descended amongst the peruvians, gave them _a code of admirable laws_, reduced them into communities, and then ascended to his father the sun."[ ] (a confusion with the tradition of enoch, parallel to the like confusion in the person of xisuthrus,[ ] unmistakably identified with noah in the babylonian tradition.) [ ] here, the admixture of sun-worship, as identifying the mythology at any rate with the hamitic and "cuthite," directly militates in favour of my view against the conjecture that manco capac was a missionary. [ ] _vide_ also the like confused tradition of nimrod (assyria) and menes (egypt), bunsen, p. . "amongst the mexicans there suddenly appeared quetzalcohuatl, the green-feathered (_i.e._ elegant) snake" (compare with chaldæan fish-god, p. ), "a white and bearded man of broad brow, dressed in strange dress, a _legislator_ who recommended severe penances, lacerating his own body with the prickles of the agave and the thorns of the cactus, but who dissuaded his followers from human sacrifices. while he remained in anahuana it was a saturnian reign; but this _great legislator_, after moving on to the plains of cholulas, and governing the cholulans with wisdom, passed away to a distant country" [if this looks more like the movement among them of some apostolic missionary, it is also in keeping with the journey of bacchus, "travelling through all nations," &c.], "and was never heard of more." it is said briefly of him, that "he _ordained sacrifices_ of flowers and fruit, and stopped his ears, when he was spoken to of war."[ ] such a saint is needed in all times, even in the present advanced state of civilisation in the old world."[ ]--_help's "spanish conquest of america,"_ i. . [ ] if an identity has been established between quetzalcohuatl and manco capac (_vide_ prescott "conquest of peru," i. ), it will appear that this legislator, who shut his ears when he was spoken to of war, did nevertheless leave them admirable maxims (compare with indian (aryan) maxims, p. ) and laws of war, _e.g._ prescott, "peru," p. . compare extract from davies--_vide supra_, preface. "the peruvian soldier was forbidden to commit any _trespass on the property_ of the inhabitants whose territory lay in the line of march. from the moment _war was proclaimed_," &c., "in every stage of the war he was open to _propositions for peace_, and although he sought to reduce his enemies by carrying off their harvests and destressing them by famine, the peruvian monarch allowed his troops to commit no unnecessary outrage on person or property." it is not to the point that these rules were not always observed. [ ] compare _supra_, p. , note to manou (bacchus). i have shown (p. ) that calmet (and other authorities of the same date might be adduced) identifies saturn with noah. among other proofs he points to the tradition of saturn devouring his children (with the exception of three), as a distorted tradition of the destruction of mankind according to the prediction of noah, upon the canon of interpretation, "that men are said often to do what they do not prevent, or even what they predict." i have also shown that this conjecture receives attestation from a fragment of sanchoniathon's (phoenician),important whether regarded as a more ancient parallel tradition, or as the same tradition nearer the fountain-head. without recapitulating the other points of resemblance (_vide_ ch. x.), let us compare what is said of saturn with what is said of bochica, manco capac, &c. "under saturn," says plutarch, "was the golden age." "saturn is represented with a scythe, as the _inventor of_ agriculture." virgil (Æn. viii. ) describes saturn as bringing the dispersed people from the mountains and _giving them laws_. i have also drawn attention to the _saturnalia_ as connecting _bacchus_ with _saturn_. now cicero tells us that one bacchus was king of _asia_, and author of _laws called subazian_; and bacchus is also said to _have travelled_ through _all nations doing good_, in all places, and teaching many things profitable to the life of man. noah has also been identified with janus, and under janus as under saturn was the golden age; and it is, moreover, said (_vide_ p. ), "that in the time of janus all families were full of religion and holiness." he is said to have been _the first that built temples_ and _instituted sacred rites_, and was therefore always mentioned at the beginning of sacrifices. [this, in common with what is said of quetzalcohuatl is again possibly a combined tradition of enoch and noah.] let both these traditions be compared with berosus' account of hoa, or the fish-god (_vide_ rawlinson, "anct. mon." i. p. , and _supra_, p. ). "he is said to have transmitted to mankind the knowledge of grammar and mathematics, and of all arts (or of any kind of art), and of the _polity of cities_, the _construction_ and _dedication of temples_, the _introduction of laws_, to have taught them geometry, and _to have shown them by example_, the _mode of sowing the seed_ and gathering the _fruits of the earth_; and along with them to have tradated _all the secrets which tend to harmonise life_. and no one else in that time was found so experienced as he."[ ] [ ] compare with gen. vi. , viii. , "and god spoke to noe, saying"; also vi. , ix. ; and gen. viii. --"and noe built an altar unto the lord, and taking of all cattle"; and ix. --"and noe, a husbandman, began to till the ground, and planted a vineyard." also ecclesiasticus xliv. , , , , "the covenants of the world were made with him." compare also with the "oracula sybillina," _supra_, p. . in the traditions, however, which connect noah with the saturnian reign,[ ] it appears to me that threefold confusion has to be disentangled. [ ] it may be well here to recall to recollection the well-known lines of virgil-- "ultima cumæi venit jam carminis ætas: magnus ab integro seclorum nascitur ordo, jam redit et virgo, redeunt saturnia regna jam nova progenies coelo dimittitur alto." _eclogues_ iv. i. there is a tradition of a golden and of a silver age frequently transfused. ii. when thus transfused there is often along with the tradition of a golden or silver age trace of a subordinate and incongruous tradition of a state of nature as a state of barbarism--both at the early commencement of things. iii. there is a double tradition of the succession of ages, the one ante-, the other post-diluvian. * * * * * i. the tradition of the golden age is primarily the tradition of paradise, to which succeeded in gradation of degeneracy a silver, brass, and iron age. of this line of tradition we have seen distinct trace in sanchoniathon (_supra_, p. ). but there is also, as we have just seen, a tradition of another golden age connected with saturn, janus, &c., and of this perhaps we have the most direct testimony in the chinese tradition. "the chinese traditions," says professor rawlinson (bampton lectures, ii., quoting "horæ mos." iv. ) "are said to be less clear and decisive (than the babylonian). they speak of a 'first heaven' and age of innocence when 'the whole creation enjoyed a state of happiness; when everything was beautiful, everything was good; all things were perfect in their kind. whereunto succeeded a _second heaven, introduced by a great convulsion_, in which the pillars of heaven were broken, the earth shook to its foundations, the heavens sank lower towards the north, the sun, moon, and stars changed their motions, the earth fell to pieces, and _the waters enclosed within its bosom burst forth with violence and overflowed_,'" &c. here, then, is a tradition of a second heaven, or a saturnian reign, following a convulsion which will perhaps be conceded to be a tradition of the _universal_ deluge (_vide_ p. ), and which links the tradition of the saturnian reign with the patriarch noah?[ ] [ ] boulanger ("l'antiquité devoilée," i. ), recognises, although it perplexes him, the tradition which places the gold and silver age after the deluge--"à la suite de cet évenement, les traditions de l'age d'or, et du regne des dieux paroissent encore plus bizarres;" also _id._ iii. ; also . also , "ce n'est donc point un état politique qu'il faut chercher dans l'age d'or, ce fut un état tout religieux. chaque famille pénétrée des jugemens d'en haut, vecut quelque temps sous la conduite des pères qui rassembloient leurs enfans." it is thus that seneca depicts the golden age. _vide_ p. . i ask now to be allowed to look at the same tradition from a different point of view. i have elsewhere shown (p. ) that according to the operation of natural causes everything in the primitive ages would have led to dispersion, but however probable or even certain these conjectures may be, we know as a fact that they did not operate (gen. xi. , , ) for some three hundred years or more, probably until after the death of noah. does not this look as if mankind were kept together for a period, in order that they might become settled in their ideas and confirmed in their maxims, under the influence and direction of the second father of mankind, whose direct communications with the most high had been manifest, and whose authority necessarily commanded universal respect--"him of mazy counsel, saturn?" (hesiod, "theog.")[ ] [ ] it might be a sufficient answer to say that they did not operate because a miraculous intervention ordained it otherwise; but if we seek the explanation in natural causes they will be found such as will exactly confirm the theory. the causes which lead to dispersion are the necessities of the pastoral life. if there, then, was no dispersion, the conclusion is that during the three or four centuries after the deluge mankind were mainly engaged in husbandry--"and noe, a husbandman, _began_ to till the ground." but husbandry is the first and essential condition of civilisation. we have seen that mr mill, mr hepworth dixon, &c., believe that mankind _slowly_ arrived at this stage through the intermediate stages of shepherd and hunter. on the contrary it would appear that they _started_ in this career. again, given the conditions which genesis describes--families living in patriarchal subjection to a chief who had the knowledge of husbandry--cultivation would be the natural consequence; for the one and only hindrance to cultivation, supposing the knowledge, is insecurity. "most critical of all are the causes which conduce to agriculture, agriculture at once the most fruitful and the most dangerous expedients for life. he who tills the soil exposes his valuable stores to the malice or enmity of the whole world. any marauder," &c. ("miscell." by francis w. newman, ). but as the conditions described in genesis exclude the probability of such interruption--agriculture would have been the preferable resource of life--and so it would have continued until circumstances led to the extension of the pastoral mode. so far, then, as we are brought to regard the different modes of life as progressive or successive (i believe that even at this early stage they were contemporaneous), the order of the succession according to the theory now in vogue must be reversed; and we must regard mankind as first a community of husbandmen, gradually extending themselves as shepherds, to be finally still more dispersed in some of their branches as hunters. if this theory appears far-fetched and fanciful, let it be recollected, on the other hand, that there has long subsisted a tradition among mankind of a code of nature as connected with a state of nature, which has to be accounted for (_vide_ chap. ii.) and when we consider how the impulsion which a nation receives at the commencement of its history continues--how much, for instance, at the distance of a thousand years we resemble our saxon ancestors of the eighth century, and even our ancestors of the german forest in identity of character, sentiment, and institution--we must not make the lapse of centuries an impassable barrier to a belief in the traditions of mankind in the early periods of history. let us also, in regarding the golden or silver age, glance beyond it to that iron age which ultimately followed it, in which the world, becoming crowded and also corrupted, many families and tribes collected together for warfare, and in which one nation swallowed another until all came to be absorbed, at least on the asiatic continent, into one or two great empires, which again contended for supreme dominion. an age of universal war, of many sorrows, of great perturbations, but one in which the process of dispersion was stayed, and mankind settled down within certain definite lines of demarcation, which in great part have continued to this day. no wonder, then, that men turned to each other in these dark days, and talked with regret of the simple agricultural and pastoral age which had passed, and which came variously to be called, in their recollection, the second heaven, the arcadian era, the saturnia regna,[ ] the golden age. neither is it surprising that the idea of a state of nature misconceived as to the facts, and of a law of nature dimly remembered and distorted by human perversity, has so often obtained among mankind in modern times and also in antiquity. this is a point which i shall discuss with reference to the historical evidence in another chapter. [ ] "and truly there is a sap in nations as well as in trees, a vigorous inward power, ever tending upwards, drawing its freshest energies from the simplest institutions, and the purest virtues and the healthiest moral action.... and if of nations we may so speak, what shall we say of the entire human race, when all its energies were, in a manner, pent up in its early and few progenitors; when the children of noah, removed but a few generations from the recollections and lessons of eden, and possessing the accumulated wisdom of long-lived patriarchs, were marvellously fitted to receive those strange and novel impressions, which a world, just burst forth in all its newness, was calculated to make?"--card. wiseman, "science and revealed religion," lect. ii. it is to this period that i am inclined to refer the belief in an age of high chivalry and virtue, with subsequent degeneracy, widely diffused in the legends of king arthur. i will surrender my opinion whenever the historical information respecting that monarch shall have been more exactly determined. * * * * * ii. the conception of the state of nature (chap. ii.) as a basis of theory and belief arose in the main out of the speculations of lawyers and philosophers; yet it is curious that we frequently come upon a concurrent yet always subordinate tradition of equality associated with the tradition of a golden age which, if the age of noah, we know _aliunde_ to have been a state of hierarchical subordination to a patriarchal chief; and, along with a reminiscence of a time of peaceful prosperity at the commencement of things, the tradition of the primitive age as one of great barbarism and privation, man living on acorns, &c. that these testimonies of tradition are incongruous and confused, i am bound to admit; but then, looked at from the point of view of tradition, they seem to me to have their explanation. if this happens to be deemed somewhat fanciful, i contend that the test in all these cases must be--( .) does the key fit the lock? ( .) is there any other key producible?[ ] i venture, then, to suggest (p. ) that the notion of the primitive equality may be traced through the bacchanalian traditions; and the tradition of a primitive age of great privation i believe to be the recollection of that brief but probably sharp period of suffering during which mankind clung to the mountains in distrust of the divine injunction and promise, until brought into the plains by noah.[ ] (_vide_ p. .) [ ] "the evidence, therefore, of the meaning of this part of the homeric system is like that which is obtained, when, upon applying a new key to some lock that we have been unable to open, we find it fits the wards and puts back the bolt."--gladstone, "homer and the homeric age," ii. . [ ] plato's testimony to this tradition is remarkable (plato de legibus, lib. i.) boulanger extracts the passage with reference to the golden age (iii. ). (_vide_ also grote's plato, iii. .) plato says--"that it is a tradition that there was formerly a great destruction of mankind caused by inundations and other general calamities [are not these calamities those to which horace alludes, i. ode iii., "semotique prius tarda necessitas lethi corripuit gradum," from which only a few escaped?] those who were spared led a pastoral life _on the mountains_. we may suppose," he adds, "that these men possessed the knowledge of some useful arts, of some usages to which they had previously conformed." plato indeed goes on to tell how this knowledge must have been lost, and one reason he gives is, "mankind remained _many_ centuries on the _summits_ of the highest mountains--fear and remembrance of the past did not permit them to _descend into the plains_." strabo (_apud_ boulanger, iii. ) also discusses this question. he says that mankind descended into the plains at different periods according to their courage and sociability (lib. xiii.) varro (de re rustica, lib. xiii. cap. i.) says they were a long time before they descended." now, in these passages from plato, strabo, and varro, there is distinct testimony to the fact of mankind remaining on the mountains after the deluge, and their subsequent inferences are drawn from the fact that they supposed them to have remained there a long time. is not this merely that they have recorded one tradition to the exclusion of another--viz., that mankind were brought into the plains by saturn, in accordance with the indications in genesis ix. , "and noe, a husbandman began to till the ground." compare _supra_, p. , and p. ; bryant, "mythology," iii. p. , following [st] epiphanius, says the descendants of noah remained years in the vicinity of ararat--_i.e._ five generations. moreover, the characteristics of this subsequent period, when mankind were living together in groups of families under the mild sway of the patriarch, when "all families were good" (p. ), and when ... "with abundant goods midst quiet lands, all willing shared the gatherings of their hands." was just that semi-state of nature which it only required the bacchanalian tradition on the one side to transform into the fiction of the state of savage and absolute equality, or the touch of poetry to convert into the golden reminiscence on the other. in this way, in the person of the patriarch noah, the fiction of a state of nature was brought into contact with the tradition of a law of nature and a law of nations, regarded as the law of mankind "when men were nearest the gods." * * * * * iii. i have already noticed (p. ) the double tradition of the succession of ages, the tradition from the fragment of sanchoniathon, upon which mr m'lennan relies, being ante-, that of hesiod partly ante- and partly post-diluvian. the following lines of hesiod, for instance, bearing allusion to the confusion of tongues and the shortening of life, being plainly post-diluvian:-- "when gods alike and mortals rose to birth, the immortals formed a _golden race_ on earth of _many-languaged men_; they lived of old, when saturn reigned in heaven; an age of gold. "the sire of heaven and earth created then a race the third, of _many-languaged men_, unlike the silver they; of brazen mould, strong with the ashen spear, and fierce and bold."[ ] [ ] with reference to the stone age, _vide_ p. . and again, of the iron race which followed them, he says-- "jove on this race of many-languaged men speeds the swift ruin which but slow began; for scarcely spring they to the light of day e'er age untimely strews their temples grey." i must here, too, point out how curiously the testimonies of tradition and science coincide.[ ] _both_ are agreed as to the transition from a brass (bronze) to an iron age; but in one it is referred to as evidence of degeneracy--in the other, the transition is adduced in proof of progress. but the fact is established by the evidence of tradition, as certainly as by the conclusions of science, and is referred to accordingly by sir john lubbock ("pre-historic times," p. ). [ ] concerning the evident tradition of the dispersion in hesiod, "theog." v. , _vide_ bryant's "mythology," iii. , _et seq._ the lines of lucretius are certainly remarkable-- "arma antiqua, manus ungues dentesque fuerunt, et lapides, et item sylvarum fragmina rami posterius ferri vis est, ærisque reperta, sed prior æris erat, quam ferri cognitus usus. quo facilis magis est natura et copia major Ære solum terræ tractabunt, æreque belli miscebant fluctus."--_de rerum natura_, lib. . but here i cannot help thinking the tradition has reference rather to the use than to the knowledge of metals. we have seen, for instance, that the cultivation of the ground commenced with noah--the fact being attested both by scripture and tradition. now, in the above passage, although the primitive weapons are referred to, as of stones, yet it is said "æreque solum terræ tractabunt," an averment which no doubt has reference to the brazen age; yet nothing forbids the construction, which on other grounds seems the more natural that the land was from the first so cultivated,[ ] and that in strictness the commencement of the brazen age was identical with the commencement of cultivation, although in the mind of the poet it had reference to the introduction of bronze weapons and implements of war. moreover, the _sylvarum fragmina rami_ may point to the period immediately preceding cultivation, when the human race clung to the mountains. the testimony of scripture to the point seems plain. not only does the construction of the ark appear to imply the use of metals, but the reference to tubalcain, "who was a hammerer and artificer in every work of brass and iron" (gen. iv. ), seems to put the antediluvian knowledge of metals beyond question. [ ] this appears to me to be borne out by the sanscrit root "_ar_, to plough," being seemingly cognate with "æs, _ær_is," and with the produce corn = "_aris_ta," aroum, aratrum, greek [greek: arsmêa], &c. sanscrit, "ar, to plough," _vide_ note in brace's "ethnology." _vide_ also max müller, "science of language," _id._ _vide_ also max müller, "chips," ii. p. . "the name of the plough (in egypt) was [greek: zhbix], _ploughed land_, appears to _have been_ [greek: art], a word still traced in the arabic 'hart,' which has the same import; and the greek [greek: arêtron] and roman _aratrum_ appears to indicate, like the [greek: aroura], an egyptian origin."--_wilkinson's ancient egyptians_, i. . if "ar," as in "[greek: aristos]," should be proposed as the primitive root, it must be after rejection of the evidence of secondary derivation; but does not our common parlance still run to the comparison of virtues with metals, "good as gold," "hard as iron," "true as steel." why then at a later period should not brass have become the expression for _best_ in the brazen or warlike age, when courage was the virtue principally regarded? if this is accepted, "[greek: arês]," or mars, so far from being the root, would be a tertiary derivation--the embodiment and deification of what was regarded as best in the brazen age. gladstone ("homer," ii. p. ), shows that mars was a deity of late invention, and not one of the traditionary deities. rawlinson, _vide supra_, p. , identifying ares with nimrod. bunsen ("egypt," iii. ), says in a note, "arya" in indian means lord. its original meaning was equivalent to "upper noble." the popular name "arja" is derived from it, and means "descended from a noble." i will only add that "ari" in egyptian means "honourable" (in nofruari). but "ar" might mean to plough; for the aryans were originally and essentially an agricultural, and therefore a peasant race. agriculture at the time we are contemplating would have been the most honourable employment (_supra_, p. ), it would not have been "an agricultural and therefore peasant" employment till insecurity brought about the state of dependence and vassalage. the aryans would have been noble as being of the japhetic race. in the first commencement after the deluge, unless miraculously supplied, there would have been no grain or bread food until time had been allowed for its production. during this interval acorns, &c., may have been the only food. perhaps it was so ordained to incite to the new permission to eat flesh meat. on the other hand, i ask, in those ages when men were supposed to live exclusively on acorns, was not flesh meat eaten,--were there no hunters? had man no control over the domestic animals? that in a peaceful period, and the intercommunication of families previous to the dispersion implies a state of peace (ch. xiii.), in a period in which, if we follow the other traditions, "all families were good," and were under the rule of an old man, "who held his hands to his ears when they spoke to him of war," it is not surprising to learn either that they had no weapons, or that they were of the simplest description. it is characteristic of an age which piques itself upon the perfection of its artillery, and whose greatest triumphs and inventions have been in the science of destruction, to look back upon a totally different age which happened only to have stone weapons, as necessarily an age of barbarism. but from our point of view it must be regarded not as an age of barbarism, but of prosperity,--not as a state of equality, but of the subordination of the members of the family to each chief, and of families relatively to each other; an age of much mental vigour and spiritual intuition, and, so far from being a period of misery, it left reminiscences of happiness such as lingered long in the memory of mankind. chapter xiv. _sir h. maine on the law of nations._ dr newman in his inaugural discourse as rector of the dublin university ("on the place held by the faculty of arts in the university course"), which i think never received the attention it deserved, has with a few masterly touches sketched the history of western civilisation, which in its main lines may be considered to run into, and be found identical with, the tradition i am now regarding--with this difference, that dr newman regards western civilisation in its progressive, whereas we are concerned with its traditive aspects. dr newman says: "i take things as i find them on the surface of history, and am but classing phenomena (i have nothing to do with ethnology). looking, then, at the countries which surround the mediterranean seas as a whole, i see them from time immemorial the seat of an association of intellect and mind such as to deserve to be called the intellect and mind of human kind. starting and advancing from certain centres, till their respective influences intersect and conflict, and then at length intermingle and combine, a common thought has been generated, and a common civilisation defined and established. egypt is one starting-point, syria another, greece a third, italy a fourth (of which, as time goes on, the roman empire is the maturity, and the most intelligible expression), north africa a fifth, ... and this association or social commonwealth, with whatever reverses, changes, and momentary dissolutions, continues down to this day.... i call it, then, pre-eminently and emphatically human society, and its intellect the human mind, and its decisions the sense of mankind and its humanised and cultivated states--civilisation in the abstract; and the territory on which it lies the _orbis terrarum_, or the world. for unless the illustration be fanciful, the object which i am contemplating is like the impression of a seal upon the wax; which rounds off and gives form to the greater portion of the soft material, and presents something definite to the eye, and pre-occupies the space against any second figure, so that we overlook and leave out of our thoughts the jagged outline or unmeaning lumps outside of it, intent upon the harmonious circle which fills the imagination within it." ("there are indeed great outlying portions of mankind, ... still they are outlying portions and nothing else, fragmentary, &c., protesting and revolting against the grand central formation of which i am speaking, but not uniting with each other into a second whole.") the same _orbis terrarum_, which has been the seat of civilisation, has been the seat of the christian polity. "the natural and the divine associations are not indeed exactly coincident, nor ever have been." "christianity has fallen partly outside civilisation and civilisation partly outside christianity; but on the whole the two have occupied one and the same _orbis terrarum_.... the centre of the tradition is transferred from greece to rome.... at length the temple of jerusalem is rooted up by the armies of titus, and the effete schools of athens are stifled by the edict of justinian.... the grace stored in jerusalem, and the gifts which radiate from athens, are made over and concentrated in rome. this is true as a matter of history. rome has inherited both sacred and profane learning; she has perpetuated and dispensed the traditions of moses and david in the supernatural order, and of homer and aristotle in the natural. to separate these distinct teachings, human and divine, is to retrograde; it is to rebuild the jewish temple and to plant anew the groves of academus; ... and though these were times when the old traditions seemed to be on the point of failing, somehow it has happened that they have never failed.... even in the lowest state of learning the tradition was kept up;" ... and this experience of the past we may apply to the present, "for as there was a movement against the classics in the middle ages, so has there been now.... civilisation has its common principles, and views, and teaching, and especially its books, which have more or less been given from the earliest times, and are in fact in equal esteem and respect, in equal use, now, as they were when they were received in the beginning. in a word, the classics and the subjects of thought and study to which they give rise, or to use the term most to our present purpose, the arts have ever on the whole been the instruments which the civilised _orbis terrarum_ has adopted; just as inspired works, and the lives of saints, and the articles of faith and the catechism have been the instrument of education in the case of christianity. and this consideration you see, gentlemen (to drop down at once upon the subject of discussion which has brought us together), invests the opening of the schools in arts[ ] with a solemnity and moment of a peculiar kind, for we are but engaged in reiterating an old tradition, and carrying on those august methods of enlarging the mind, and cultivating the intellect and ripening the feelings, in which the process of civilisation has ever consisted."--_dr newman on civilisation._ [ ] _i.e._, "the teaching and government of the university remained in the faculty of arts," and not in the faculty of theology or law or modern philosophy. i have for my own purposes of condensation been obliged to take certain unpardonable liberties of transposition in the above abstract, for which i can only plead my necessity. i should not in any case have so exceeded in quotation, were this very masterly address at all accessible, but, as far as i know, it is only to be found in the _catholic university gazette_, november , . in order to show the full significance of these extracts from dr newman, and also their bearing on points still to be discussed, i will append the following suggestive passage from sir h. maine's "ancient law," p. :--"it is only with the progressive societies that we are concerned, and nothing is more remarkable than their extreme fewness. in spite of overwhelming evidence, it is most difficult for a citizen of western europe to bring thoroughly home to himself the truth that the civilisation which surrounds him is a rare exception in the history of the world. the tone of thought common among us, all our hopes, fears, and speculations, would be materially affected, if we had vividly before us the relation of the progressive races to the totality of human life. it is indisputable that much the greatest part of mankind has never shown a particular desire that its civil institutions should be improved since the moment when external completeness was first given to them by their embodiment in some permanent record.... there has been a material civilisation, but instead of the civilisation expanding the law, the law has limited the civilisation." i must also express my belief that if mr lowe had read the lecture of dr newman, he would have very much modified the views he enunciated in his lecture on "primary and university education," at the philosophical institution at edinburgh.--_times_, november , . before examining sir h. maine's view on the law of nature and the law of nations, it will perhaps facilitate the inquiry if i gather up, out of the evidence which has accumulated in the previous chapters, such conclusions as will show how we stand in regard to sir h. maine's general theory. i. accepting sir h. maine's dictum that "the family and not the individual was the unit of ancient society;" and, in a certain sense, the further position, that it is difficult "to know where to stop, to say of what races of men it is _not_ allowable to lay down that the society in which they are united was originally organised on the patriarchal model,"[ ] i venture to maintain against sir h. maine the continuance of family life in a quasi state of nature, before either the development or creation of the state. [ ] "ancient law," p. . ii. but in maintaining that there was a period in human history anterior to the formation of governments, i am far from asserting--on the contrary, i distinctly repudiate the notion--that there was ever an ante-social state. society is complete within the family circle;[ ] and society in any wider organisation is only the requirement and consequence of imperfection and corruption within the family, or of collision between families. undoubtedly, there were instances in which the state grew up imperceptibly out of the extension of the family into the patriarchal system;[ ] but these instances will probably have occurred among the families who remained stationary, whether by right of seniority, or by virtue of superior power, at the central point from which the dispersion commenced. so long, however, as family government sufficed, there would have been nothing but the family; but when mankind increased, and actual relationship died out, disputes must have multiplied and become complicated--not only between individuals but between families; hence the necessity of state government--hence the necessity of an appeal on the part of individuals from the family to some supreme authority. this would be the first mode in which governments would have arisen among those who came under the action of the dispersion. but even here--assuming the family groups to have descended from the same progenitor--we see first the family, first property, then the state. the second mode would be where several families, differing in language and race, came together and formed states.[ ] although they would have come together on unequal and varying conditions, yet they would necessarily have come together on some conditions, and for the mutual protection of their rights, their property, and their personal security. in all such cases there would have been something of a recognition and adjustment of rights, something of the nature of a compact more or less explicit, but much more formal and explicit in this mode than in the former. in any case, the end and intention of the formation of states and governments would have been the security of rights, as cicero tells us:--"hanc enim ob causam maxime _ut sua tuerentur_ respublicæ civitatesque constitutæ sunt. nam etsi, duce naturæ, congregabantur homines, _tamen spe custodiæ rerum suarum_ urbium præsidia quærebant." but does not sir h. maine himself supply similar testimony? referring to the notions of "primitive antiquity," he says:-- "how little the notion of injury to the community had to do with the earliest interferences of the state, through its tribunals, is shown by the curious circumstance, that in the original administration of justice the proceedings were a close imitation of the series of acts which were likely to be gone _through in private life_ by persons who were disputing, but who afterwards suffered their quarrel to be appeased. the magistrate carefully simulated the demeanour of a _private arbitrator, casually called in_."--chap. x. ; _vide_ also pp. , . [ ] it by no means follows that god does not will, and did not foreordain society in its wider organisation, according to the conditions and circumstances out of which it arose. [ ] sir h. maine says (p. ):--"the points which lie on the surface of history are these: the eldest male parent--the eldest ascendant--is absolutely supreme in his household. his dominion extends to life and death, and is as unqualified over their children and their _houses_ as over his slaves. the flocks and herds of the children are the flocks and herds of the father." [this is not borne out by what we read of abraham and lot, esau and jacob--_e.g._, "but lot also, who was with abraham, _had_ flocks of sheep, and herds and tents. neither was the land able to bear them, that they might dwell together" (gen. xiii.) "and the possessions of the parent, which he holds in a representative rather than a proprietary character, are equally divided at his death among his descendants in the first degree, the eldest son sometimes receiving a double share, under the name of birthright, but more generally endowed with no hereditary advantage beyond an honorary precedence." the separation then commenced with the division of the inheritance; and whether it was ever an equal division, and not proportioned to the respective ages of the sons, or determined by other motives, or again, a division of different kinds of property, may be open to question; but at any rate a division took place, and a separation of families was consequent upon it. the division was not only the sign and token, but the efficient cause of the separation; and so not only the dispersion of families, but separate ownerships commenced with the descendants in the first degree. [ ] compare plato, "leges;" grote's "plato," iii. . iii. we come to the conclusion that the collation of the sentiments and maxims, as preserved in tradition by the families who had coalesced into states, would have formed the basis of the morality and of the jurisprudence of the states so constituted; and that in every case of oppression appeal would have been made to their pre-existing and natural rights. iv. that whilst certain traditions--the tradition of religion, for instance--would have been perhaps more faithfully preserved in the patriarchal governments of the east, and we find evidence of this in the monotheism of the persians; on the other hand, if there was a tradition of a law common to all nations, it would be more likely to be preserved in states formed by the amalgamation of many distinct families and races.[ ] [ ] "in that old heathenism of the roman world, into which it was the will of god that the christian religion should be introduced by the apostles, there were then diverse and often conflicting elements. there was a good element, which came from god; there was a thoroughly bad element, which came from satan; and there was a corrupt element, which was the fruit of the workings of unregenerate human nature upon society, and upon the objects of sense and intelligence with which man is placed in relation. the good element we see embodied in great part of the laws and institutions of the ancient world, as also in much of the literature, the poetry, the philosophy of greece and rome, which literature consequently--after having been purified, and as it were baptized--has always been used by the christian church in the education of her children. this element, i say, was originally the gift of god, the author of nature, to man, the offspring of reason and conscience, the tradition of a society of which god was himself the founder. it enshrined whatever fragments of primeval truth as to god, the world, and man himself, still lingered, in whatever shape, among the far-wandering children of adam. st paul alludes to this element (acts xvii. ); ... and his words altogether seem to imply that god watched over it, supported it and fostered it, as far as men were worthy of it, and that it might even have been expanded into a perfect system of natural religion and of reasonable virtue, had men been grateful enough to earn larger measures of grace from god, who left not himself without witness in his daily providence, and was not far from 'any one of his children.'"--"_four sermons_," by the rev. henry j. coleridge, s. j. burns & oates. . p. . ( .) v. that such was the origin and history of the greeks and romans--the two nations which formed the nucleus of the _orbis terrarum_ within which, as dr newman tells us (_supra_, p. ), is found the centre of christianity and the seat of civilisation. vi. that, whether the roman law goes back in tradition, or, as sir h. maine will say, in fiction only--the fact remains, that it does so trace itself back to remote antiquity, and that the roman law subsists to this day as the foundation of most of the codes of europe, and has extended its ramifications to all; and that outside the circle of its influence other nations equally retrace their codes to remote antiquity, and, as a rule, to revelations made to their earliest founder. that nothing is more striking in ancient times than the manner in which their codes, which are the embodiment of laws previously in tradition, were held as a sacred deposit. this was the reason why the laws of the medes and the persians might not be altered; and that, according to the laws of the visigoths, no judge would decide in any suit unless he found in their code a law applicable to the case; and perhaps we may find trace of it in the phrases familiar to us--_nolumus leges angliæ mutari_, _stare super vias antiquas_, and so, too, in the _ita scriptum est_, which, as sir h. maine says (p. ), silenced all objections in the middle ages. vii. that the fact of a tradition of "a law common to all nations" and of "a lost code of nature," is in accordance with the historical and scriptural evidence which would render such a tradition probable. * * * * * sir h. maine, with whose argument i now propose to deal, is, as far as i am aware, the most conspicuous opponent of the common belief in the "law of nations;" and yet it appears to me that we shall find testimony to the tradition even in the very terms in which he repudiates it. i must at least consider this a recognition on his part of the strength and inveteracy of the opposite view. in the following extracts i shall suppose my readers fresh from the perusal of sir h. maine. sir h. maine says ("ancient law," pp. , ), that the further "we penetrate into the primitive history of thought, the further we find ourselves from the conception of law of any sort." and again, "it is certain that in the infancy of mankind, no sort of legislation, not even a distinct author of law, is contemplated or conceived of." now if sir h. maine had said nothing more, i should have felt bound to take this assertion upon his authority; but sir h. maine adds:--"law has scarcely reached the footing of custom; it is rather a habit. it is, to use a french phrase, 'in the air,'" [is not sir h. maine here hunting for a phrase which shall not imply that it is in tradition?] "the only authoritative statement of right and wrong is a judicial sentence after the facts, _not one presupposing a law which has been violated_, but one which is breathed for the first time by a higher power into the judge's mind at the moment of adjudication." this passage may be adduced in evidence of the tradition of noah and his heavenly-inspired judgments, but apparently it is in contradiction to the view of a law of nature, since it supposes the judge to decide through direct inspiration, or in the way of _stet pro ratione voluntas_, and not with reference to a "law which has been violated." now, sir h. maine comes to his conclusion upon the ground of the "themistes" of the homeric poems. "the earliest notions connected with the conception ... of a law or rule of life are those contained in the homeric words 'themis' and 'themistes'" (p. ). "the literature of the heroic ages discloses to us law in the germ under the 'themistes,' and a little more developed in the conception of 'dike'" (p. ). if this were so, law according to the conception of "themistes" and law according to the conception of "dike" were never contemporaneous, but necessarily successive, or rather progressive; but at page we read, "the homeric word for a custom in the embryo is _sometimes_ 'themis' in the singular, more often 'dike,' the meaning of which visibly fluctuates between 'a judgment' and a 'custom' or 'usage.' '[greek: nomos],' a law ... does not occur in homer."[ ] [ ] the word '[greek: nomos]' is found in the hymn to apollo, v. , attributed to homer [the term [greek: themistes] also, v. ]--and in hesiod, op. et dies, v. .--goguet, ii. . in the hymn to apollo it is only applied to song. the greeks had the same word, however--viz. [greek: nomoi], as for laws, songs, and pastures--that is to say, the term law, [greek: nomos], is applied to the instrument of its transmission, and to what would then have been its most ordinary subject matter. this seems to me in evidence of its primitive use. take, moreover, the following passage in the first book of the iliad, v. :-- [greek: 'all' ek toi ereô, kai epi megan horkon omoumai nai ma tode skêptron, to men oupote phylla kai ozous physei, epeidê prôta tomên en oressi leloipen, oud' anathêlêsei; peri gar rha he chalkos elepse phylla te kai phloion; nyn aute min hyies achaiôn en palamês phoreousi, dikaspoloi, hoite themistas pros dios heiryatai; ho de toi megas essetai horkos.] --_heyne's homer_, i. v. - . "but this i say, and with an oath confirm, by this my royal staff, which never more shall put forth leaf nor spray since first it left upon the mountain side its parent stem, nor blossom more; since all around, the axe hath lopped both leaf and bark, and now 'tis borne, _emblem of justice_, by the sons of greece, _who guard the sacred ministry of law before the face of jove!_ a mighty oath. the time shall come when all the sons of greece shall mourn achilles' loss," &c. --_lord derby's translation_, - . here we have the term "dike" not merely in embryo, but in the compound word "dikaspoloi," administrators of justice, implying something akin to judges, and a condition of things in which law was reduced to a state in which there was something to guard and administer. not only so, but the staff, the "emblem of justice," is borne by them when they _guard_ the "themistes" before the gods. it will not only be curious to discover, but the discovery of vestiges in modern times of the old traditional modes and ceremonial will throw light upon the administration of justice in ancient times. i dare say many other instances may be indicated. i will adduce the following:--if my readers will turn to the _pall mall gazette_ (july , ), they will find an account of "the manx thing," or "the ancient custom of the ruler, his council, and the commons meeting together in the open air to proclaim the law to the people standing around." "the lieutenant-governor is the representative of the king, and takes an oath to deal truly and uprightly between our sovereign lady the queen and her people," "and as indifferently betwixt party and party _as this staff now standeth_." "he is assisted by two demesters or supreme judges, who must deem the law truly, as they will answer to the lord of the isle." here, as in homer, there is reference to an emblem and a ceremonial repugnant to the notion that (_infra_) "every man under the patriarchal despotism was practically controlled by a regimen not of law but of caprice." mr adams describes the following scene in one of the islands in the archipelago off the mainland of korea--"the chief, who really has something very noble and majestic about him, as is generally the case with men in high authority among the natives of these islands.... the demeanour of those of his countrymen who surrounded him was as free and independent as his own was reserved and dignified.... in his hand he held _his badge of office, a wand of ebony with a green silken cord entwined about it like the serpent of Æsculapius_."--"travels of a naturalist in japan and manchuria," by arthur adams, f.l.s. . compare also with _infra_, p. . well, allow that there need not be as yet the metaphysical conception of law, or law as a positive enactment, embracing indifferently a variety of cases. eliminate the word "law." instead of the phrase "law of nature" substitute "natural justice," and "the sense of right and wrong;" and it suffices that we detect "usage," "custom," right; for even if it were conceded that right is a post-homeric rendering of [greek: dikê], yet "custom" and "usage" in their definition would have been in recognition of pre-existing right. this becomes more clear if we consider the alternative opinion. sir h. maine says that "under the patriarchal despotism," "every man was practically controlled in all his actions by a regimen not of law but of caprice" (p. ). the judgments, then, of the patriarchal times were mere "caprice," and rights were defined without reference to any sense of justice. from "themistes" of caprice they would proceed to legislation upon "caprice," and, ultimately, to codes which would represent nothing but a digest of the precedents of "caprice." it is difficult, then, to understand in what way and at what point the sense of justice, the conception of "dike," originated, and most of all, if this is true, it is difficult to account for the "themistes" being regarded as akin to inspiration, as well as for the veneration with which, we have the authority of sir h. maine (_vide infra_) for saying, that archaic law was held, and, moreover, for the persistent tendency to revert to the past.[ ] [ ] i feel very much supported in my argument by the following passage from mr gladstone's "homer" (ii. ): "mr grote says that 'the primitive import' of the words [greek: hagathos], [greek: esthlos], and [greek: kakos], relates to power and not to worth; and that the ethical meaning of these is a later growth, which 'hardly appears until the discussions raised by socrates, and prosecuted by his disciples.' i ask permission to protest against whatever savours of the idea that any socrates whatever was the patentee of that sentiment of right and wrong which is the most precious part of the patrimony of mankind. the movement of greek morality with the lapse of time was chiefly downward and not upward.... but as to the words [greek: hagathos] and [greek: kakos], the case is far more clear; and here i ask, can it be shown that homer ever applies the word [greek: hagathos] to that which is morally bad? or the word [greek: kakos] to that which is morally good? if it can, _cadit quæstio_; if it cannot, then we have advanced a considerable way in proving the ethical signification.... in the word [greek: dikaios], however, we have an instance of the epithet never employed except in order to signify a moral or a religious idea. like the word _righteous_ among ourselves, it is derived from a source which would make it immediately designate duty as between man and man, and also as it arises out of civil relations. but it is applied in homer to both the great branches of duty. and surely there cannot be a stronger proof of the existence of definite moral ideas among a people, than the very fact that they employ a word founded on the observance of relative rights to describe also the religious character. it is when religion and morality are torn asunder, that the existence of moral ideas is endangered." if, however, we follow sir h. maine in his illustration taken from english law, we shall find ourselves reinstated in our original convictions. sir h. maine says (p. ), "an englishman should be better able than a foreigner to appreciate the historical fact that the 'themistes' preceded any conception of law;" but at page , he says, "probably it will be found that _originally_ it was the received doctrine that somewhere _in nubibus_ [q. "in the air"], or in _gremio magistratuum_ there _existed_ a complete, coherent, symmetrical body of english law, of an amplitude sufficient to furnish principles which would apply to any conceivable combination of circumstances." if, then, we take the analogy of the english law, we come also to the identical conclusion for which i contend--viz. that the "themistes," whether they partook of the character of commands or of judgments, _were_ still in recognition of a "law which was violated." if the "themistes" had no reference to a law which was violated; if they were mere caprice, i have already asked, whence arose the regard for ancient law among the nations of antiquity? and i may add, how came it about that their ideas of justice were inseparably connected with the notions of morality? does sir h. maine deny either of these facts? on the contrary, he affirms them:-- "quite enough, too, remains of these collections ['ancient codes'] both in the east and in the west, to show that they mingled up religious, civil, and merely moral ordinances _without any regard_ to differences in their essential character; and this is consistent with all we know of ancient thought from other sources, the _severance_ of law from morality, and of religion from law, belonging very distinctly to the later stages of mental progress" (p. ). and at p. , "much of the old law which has descended to us, was preserved merely _because it was old_. those who practised and obeyed it did not pretend to understand it; and in some cases they even ridiculed and despised it. _they offered no account of it except that it had come down to them from their ancestors._" does sir h. maine dispute the persistency of tradition in general? no. at p. , _vide supra_, i have quoted a passage in which he explicitly maintains it. i must observe further, that in the very passages in which he repudiates the notion of a "law of nature," two things irresistibly transpire--( .) that there was a persistent tradition in ancient society of a law of nature; ( .) that this tradition was invariably associated with the golden age, _e.g._:-- "after nature had become a household word in the mouths of the romans, the belief gradually prevailed among the roman lawyers,[ ] that the old _jus gentium_ was in fact _the lost code of nature_, and that the prætors, in framing an edictal jurisprudence on the principles of the _jus gentium_, were gradually restoring a type from which law had only departed _to deteriorate_" (p. ). "but then, while the _jus gentium_ had little or no antecedent credit at rome, the theory of a law of nature came in surrounded with all the prestige of philosophical authority, and invested with the _charms of association with an elder and more blissful condition of the race_" (p. ). "the law of nature confused the past and the present. logically it implied a state of nature which had once been regulated by natural law; yet the juris-consults do not speak clearly or confidently of the existence of such a state, which indeed is little noticed by the ancients _except_ when it finds a poetical _expression in the fancy of a golden age_" (p. ). "yet it was not on account of their simplicity and harmony that these finer elements were primarily respected, but on the score of their _descent from the aboriginal reign of nature_" (p. ). "yet it is a remarkable proof of the essentially _historical_ character of the conception that, after all the efforts which have been made to evolve the code of nature from the necessary characteristics of the natural state [_i.e. à priori_] so much of the result is just what it would have been if men had been satisfied to adopt the dicta of the roman lawyers without questioning or reviewing them. setting aside the conventional or treaty law of nations, it is surprising how large a part of the system is made up of pure roman law" (p. ). [because the roman law was in the main stream of the tradition.][ ] [ ] either, then, the roman lawyers fell back upon the old traditions, or else the lawyers introduced the superstition of the law of nature, and then became victims to the superstition they had invented. in any case, the "belief" in "the lost code of nature gradually prevailed." i am presently going to discuss with sir h. maine how far in the latter case such a belief is likely to have prevailed. [ ] _vide_ also sir h. maine, p. : "it is important, too, to observe that this model system, unlike many of those which have mocked men's hopes in later days, was _not entirely the product of imagination_. it was never thought of as founded on quite untested principles. the notion was that it underlay existing law, and must be looked for through it. its functions were, _in short, remedial_, not _revolutionary_ or anarchical. and this unfortunately is the exact point at which the modern view of a law of nature has often ceased to resemble the ancient." i now come to what i may call the exposition of sir h. maine's argument proper, and, although i feel the full difficulty of doing this, in the case of so subtle and able a writer, i shall endeavour to condense into as short a space as possible whatever is material to sir h. maine's position. sir h. maine says (p. ):-- "i shall attempt to discover the origin of these famous phrases, law of nations, law of nature, equity, and to determine how the conceptions which they indicate are related to one another. the most superficial student of roman history must be struck by the extraordinary degree in which the fortunes of the republic were affected by the presence of foreigners under different names on her soil. the causes of this immigration are discernible enough at a later period, for we can readily understand why men of all races should flock to the mistress of the world; but the same phenomenon of a _large population of foreigners_ and denizens meets us in the _very earliest_ records of the roman state--no doubt the instability of society in ancient italy.... it is probable, however, that this explanation is imperfect, and it could only be completed by taking into account those active commercial relations, which though they are little reflected in the military traditions of the republic, rome appears certainly to have had with carthage and with the interior of italy in pre-historic times.... in the _early roman republic_ the principle of the absolute exclusion of foreigners pervaded the civil law no less than the constitution. the alien or denizen could have no share in any institution supposed to be coeval with the state. he could not have the benefit of the quiritarian law, &c.... still neither the interest nor the security of rome permitted him to be quite outlawed.... moreover, at no period of roman history was foreign trade entirely neglected. it was therefore probably half as a measure of policy and half in furtherance of commerce that jurisdiction was first assumed in disputes to which the parties were either foreigners or a native and a foreigner. the assumption of such a jurisdiction brought with it the immediate necessity of discovering some principles on which the questions to be adjudicated upon could be settled.... they refused, as i have said before, to decide the new cases by pure roman civil law. they refused, no doubt, because it seemed to involve some kind of degradation, to apply the law of the particular state from which the foreign litigant came. the expedient to which they resorted was that of selecting the rules of law common to rome, and to the different italian communities in which the immigrants were born. in other words, they set themselves to form a system answering to the primitive and literal meaning of _jus gentium, i.e._ law common to all nations. _jus gentium_ was, in fact, the sum of the common ingredients in the customs of the old italian tribes, for they were _all the nations_ whom the romans had the means of observing, and who sent successive swarms of immigrants to the roman soil.... the _jus gentium_ was, accordingly, a collection of rules and principles determined by observation _to be common_ to the institutions which prevailed among the various italian tribes. the circumstances of the origin of the _jus gentium_ was probably a sufficient safeguard against the _mistake of supposing_ that the roman lawyers had any special respect for it. it was the fruit in part of their disdain of all foreign law, and in part of their disinclination to give the foreigner the advantage of their own indigenous _jus civile_. it is true that we, at the present day, should probably take a very different view of the _jus gentium_.... we should have a sort of respect for rules and principles so universal.... but the results to which modern ideas conduct the observer, are, as nearly as possible, the reverse of those which were instinctively brought home to the primitive roman. what we respect or admire, he disliked or regarded with jealous dread. the points of jurisprudence which he looked upon with affection were exactly those which a modern theorist leaves out of consideration as accidental and transitory--the solemn gestures ... the endless formalities, &c.... the _jus gentium_ was merely a system forced on his attention by a political necessity. he loved it as little as he loved the foreigners from whose institutions it was derived, and for whose benefit it was intended. a complete revolution in his ideas was required before it could challenge his respect.... this crisis arrived when the greek theory of a law of nature was applied to the practical roman administration of the law common to all nations."--_sir h. maine's ancient law_, - . sir h. maine's theory may be summarised as an attempt to identify the "law of nations" with the history of roman law, leaving out of sight the tradition of it which may be traced in other nations. now, although there is nothing, as napoleon used to say, which one nation hates more than another nation--and this certainly holds true of the roman people--yet it is scarcely possible to point to any which, from the circumstances of its origin, would have been less predisposed to look in the abstract with disdain upon the laws and customs of surrounding nations, however much they may have hated them as concrete nationalities; and least of all would they have had this feeling for the institutions of the latins, a people whom, from their peculiar connection with themselves, they would principally have had as residents among them. sir h. maine seems unable to shake off the prepossession, which the analysis of roman law, to the exclusion of other evidence, would tend to lead him, viz. that the romans were a homogeneous people, and we have just heard him speak of their "own indigenous _jus civile_." this indigenous _jus civile_ was compounded, as was their nationality, of many miscellaneous elements. whatever truth may be attached to the legends as to the foundation of rome, and they are various, it cannot well be disputed that there was a strong trace of sabine[ ] and etruscan,[ ] in addition to the original miscellaneous roman, or, if not miscellaneous, pure latin element; to which, in any case, in the subsequent reigns a large latin immigration must be added, when rome, through the conquest of alba longa, became the head of the latin league, and the infusion of a greek in addition to an etruscan element in the dynasty of the tarquins. the latin league has its significance over and above its bearing upon the present argument; and to this i shall presently revert. but to go no further, does not the existence of the latin league[ ] sufficiently account for the large influx of strangers into rome, on account of which sir h. maine sees the necessity for an extension of the roman jurisprudence? but, if this be so, his theory must fall to the ground; for, if the roman element was distinctive at all, and was a pure latin population, miscellaneously collected by romulus, and not a miscellaneous population of various tribes--it was latin _quâ_ roman. how then, supposing the roman element to have become predominant, did it come to contemn the latin element and the law of the latins? that it excluded them is another thing, or that they were kept in a subordinate position, and not admitted to the full privileges of naturalisation, is quite conceivable on other grounds; but that there should have existed a feeling of contempt for the laws and customs of the people among whom, if their legends were true (and at any rate we have nothing else to go upon), was found the cradle of their race, is hard to understand, yet this assumption is essential to sir h. maine's position. [ ] i shall consider that dr dyer has fairly reinstated a large portion of early roman history until i see his arguments refuted. without endorsing his opinion i may quote what dr dyer says ("hist. of the city of rome," p. ) in evidence of the admixture of the sabine element:-- "the importance of the sabine element at rome has not perhaps been sufficiently considered. the late m. ampere has discussed the subject with great learning and ability in his interesting work, 'l'histoire romaine à rome.' he remarks that not only did the romans borrow from the sabines almost all their religious and much of their political and social organisation, their customs, ceremonies, arms, &c., but also that the far greater part of the primitive population of rome was sabine, that most of the men who played a part in roman history were of sabine extraction, and that what is called the latin tongue contains a strong infusion of sabine elements." [ ] evidences of the etruscan element are so marked, that niebühr, in his first edition, asserted the etruscan origin of the city. he subsequently, however, came to the conclusion that "there was so much in the roman state that was peculiar to rome and latium, as to be incompatible with the supposition of rome being an etruscan colony."--_appendix to travers twiss' epitome of niebühr._ [ ] a federal union existed between the roman people and the latins in the reign of servius tullius (niebühr, i. ch. xxv.) "the old latin towns had retained their ancient rights, and the colonies, that together with them formed the latin nation, had all received the _full freedom_ of rome, and had become _municipia_ a full century before the consul junius norbanus introduced the franchise of the latin freedmen.... the towns on the north of the po, inhabited by a mixed population of italians and celts speaking latin,... were termed the 'lesser latium.'... a law which regarded latin citizens as foreigners, and applied to them the principle that the child follows the condition of the baser parent, _can only have_ related to this inferior latium." (niebühr, ii. ch. vi.) again, the roman family and tribal system, with their principle of agnatic relationship, was in all probability part of their organisation for war: it was the secret of their strength. grant that they shrank from applying the principles of their domestic law, which in their application would have involved in time an organisation in conformity with it, we can at once see why they withheld the principles of their jurisprudence without withholding it in mere scorn of an alien nationality. we rather see influences which would have predisposed them to look with reverence on the laws and customs of a people among whom they must have known that they had sprung, even if there had been no tradition of a law common to all nations "of the lost code of nature," a notion which the edicts of the prætors of the later period would hardly have generated if it had had no foundation in tradition. if you change the _venue_ to etruria, the same arguments will apply. in proof, i quote the following passage from a competent, if somewhat antiquated ( ) authority--(pastoret, "hist. de la legislation," xi. )--more especially as it mentions a circumstance to which i do not remember that sir h. maine adverts, and which would make it a matter of some difficulty for the prætors to introduce laws and principles of their own making: "peu amis de la guerre, ancus martius voulut du moins ajouter à l'art de la faire quelques formalités _pour la declarer; elles étoint d'usage avant lui_ chez des _peuples voisins_; ce sont les lois féciales, lois que nous avons déjà fait connoître (c. iii. ). l'adoption des lois étrusques par les romains reçoit une force nouvelle d'un fait conservé par dénys et halicarnasse (liv. ii. § ); c'est que _après_ l'abolition de la monarchie on exposa dans la place publique de rome _à la vue de tous les citoyens_ toutes _les lois et coutûmes_ de la patrie, avec les lois étrangeres nouvellement _introduites, afin_ que le droit publie ne changeât pas en même temps que les pouvoirs du magistrat." sir h. maine says, at p. , "the prætors early laid hold on _cognation_ as the _natural_ form of kinship, and spared no pains in purifying their system from the older conception [_i.e._ older according to roman law]. their ideas have descended to us, but still traces of agnation are to be seen in many of the modern rules of succession after death." the reader will find (from p. to )[ ] in sir h. maine the distinction between cognation and agnation very completely and lucidly stated. i may say roughly, however, that cognation is the form of relationship which we acknowledge and which is familiar to us, descending in graduated degrees, including males and females alike, from common ancestors. agnatic relationship is rigidly confined to the male lines, excluding the connections and descendants of females, upon the maxim, _mulier est finis familiæ_, though including unmarried females on the side of the father. [ ] _vide_ also de fresquet, "droit romain," ii. - . now, i venture to think that the argument which may be drawn from the passage which i have quoted ought not lightly to be dismissed as a mere _argumentum ad hominem_. sir h. maine says that the prætors early laid hold on cognation as the _natural_ form of kinship. either, then, they did this really detecting this principle as inhering in the natural law which was in tradition, or as detecting it as the "law common to all the nations known to the romans." in the latter case, it shows that, whereas cognation was common among the surrounding nations, agnation obtained among the romans. the latter was therefore their peculiar institution, which sustains the argument which i have just put. if, on the contrary, they detected cognation underlying the institutions of all nations, and as part of their traditional law of nature, we cannot wish for a better and clearer instance of the natural law cropping up. and it is an instance, too, of the advantage at which those argue who have on their side the authority of scripture, indicating the landmarks. knowing that mankind sprang from a single pair, we can see that cognation must have been the law from the commencement: for it stands to reason that commencing with common ancestors the normal and natural mode would be to include all the relations according to degrees of descent, until there was some object in excluding them. with some political necessity or expediency for the limitation to males and the exclusion of females would agnation have commenced. if we require a case in point we have it in the relationship of laban to jacob. according to agnatic relationship they were second cousins, but according to cognatic relationship laban was his maternal uncle, and such accordingly he is called in the sacred text (gen. xxviii. ). but in the seventh century before christ, in the thickness of paganism, men would scarcely have come to this conclusion, since they had apparently lost, as far as we know, the knowledge of their origin; although, as we have already seen, they retained dimly the tradition of many things of which they had forgotten the specific history. from the information we derive from sir h. maine, the memory of cognation, as the earliest and most natural scheme of kinship, must somehow have subsisted in tradition. it was not certainly in their power to verify the truth of the tradition as we can by a reference to revelation, and yet it would seem as if, having come to this conclusion, that it was almost within the grasp of human reason to have inferred from it the origin from a single pair, and thus to have recovered the knowledge they had lost from the tradition they had preserved.[ ] [ ] "the above table shows that before the separation of the aryan race, every one of the degrees of affinity had received expression and sanction in language, for, although some spaces had to be left empty, the coincidences, such as they are, are sufficient to warrant one general conclusion."--_vide_ table, max müller's essays, ii. p. . of course, i am speaking only of the actual affinity, not of laws of succession founded upon it. these must be controlled by other considerations, and by other natural rights, as, for instance, the right of testation or by reasons of state requiring hereditary succession and a salic law, or by reasons of family compelling the agnatic rule as the only mode of preserving the ancestral domain to the family--a necessity which applies as stringently to small freeholds as to broad manors. in illustration, i quote the following passage from the rev. w. smith's "pentateuch" (above referred to, ch. xiii., "indirect internal evidence of mosaic authorship," vol. i. )--"as the journey (exodus) proceeds so laws originate from the accidents of the way.... the laws regulating the succession to property furnish an example of the same kind. in numbers xxvi. - it is ordained in accordance with patriarchal usage, that the family inheritance descend by the male line. but a case immediately turns up where there happens to be no male issue. zelophahad had left no sons, but only daughters, and what was to become of the property? how was the succession to be regulated? to meet the case, jehovah orders moses to proclaim the law of numbers xxvii. - , in virtue of which daughters, in failure of sons, are to succeed. shortly after, a new difficulty arises. as heiresses, the daughters of zelophahad were now to have property of their own. but if they married out of their tribe, was the property to go with them? (num. xxxvi. - .) such a condition would at once have upset the fundamental laws of inheritance. hence, to avoid the evil, they are enjoined to marry within their own tribe; and a general law to the same effect is promulgated" (xxxvi. , ). a few points in sir h. maine's argument (_supra,_ p. ) remain to be noticed. i must take exception, for instance, to his averment "that what we respect and admire," viz. "principles so universal," the roman "regarded with jealous dread." "the parts of jurisprudence which he looked upon with affection, and the solemn gestures, &c., were the parts which a modern theorist leaves out of consideration," for he seems to have recognised their justice, and allowed them to operate so effectually that his whole system of jurisprudence, which was originally based on agnatic kinship, came round to the principle of cognation.[ ] in the process, and through the action so skilfully evolved and unfolded in sir h. maine's pages, two principles, equally to our mind, were brought into gradual recollection, viz. the comity of nations and equality before the law. the "solemn gestures," "the nicely-adjusted questions and answers of the verbal contract," "the endless formalities," are at least in evidence of the tradition. [ ] "we should know almost nothing about it (agnation) if we had only the compilations of justinian to consult; but the discovery of the ms. of gaius discloses it to us at a most interesting epoch, just when it had fallen into complete discredit, and was verging on extinction."--_ancient law_, p. . and this suggests a reflection upon the basis of sir h. maine's argument, viz. that the romans could only draw their induction from "the customs of the old italian tribes, as these were all the nations whom the romans had the means of observing." now, if we attach the weight which is due to dr newman's remarkable view (_vide supra_) as to the course and confines of civilisation, we shall be, i think, struck with the fact that the two nationalities of greece and rome, which were destined to form its heart and centre, had as their common substratum a very peculiar people, whose characteristics exactly adapted them to retain traditions, and to carry out the scriptural saying about the people, "and they shall maintain the state of the world"--a people who were the first occupiers of the soil of greece and italy, and who, if not directly and historically, can through philology be traced back to the most primitive times;[ ] a people tenacious of customs and traditions,[ ] who were the guardians of the worship and tradition of the dodonæan jupiter,[ ] and in possession of his shrine when the worship of jupiter was only the thinly-disguised corruption of the worship of the true god;[ ] a people to whom, according to mr gladstone, the greek religion owed its sacerdotal and ceremonial development,[ ] and who also inclines to the opinion, which has a more especial significance, and bearing on the present argument, that the amphictyonic council was a pelasgian institution. [ ] gladstone's homer, i. - . [ ] _id._ i. - . [ ] "the greek mythology was derived from the pelasgians, and the oracle of dodona belonged to them."--_niebühr, hist._ i. . "the pelasgians were a different nation from the hellenes: their language was peculiar, and not greek.... the pelasgians, as well as the hellenes, were members of the amphictyonic association, the main tie of which was religion, in which both nations agreed."--_niebühr, hist._ i. (_travers twiss' epitome_, ch. iii.) "the royal laws became odious or obsolete, the mysterious deposit was silently preserved by the priests and the nobles, and at the end of sixty years the citizens of rome still complained that they were ruled by the arbitrary sentence of the magistrate; yet the positive institutions of the kings had blended themselves with the public and private manners of the city; some fragments of that venerable jurisprudence were compiled by the diligence of antiquarians, and above twenty texts still speak the rudeness of the pelasgic idiom of the latins."--_gibbon's decline and fall_, vol. viii. ch. xiv. [ ] gladstone, ii. , &c.; strabo. [ ] _id._ i. . now, let us consider this special significance of the amphictyonic council. on the one hand, it is attributed to amphictyon, the son of deucalion; on the other hand (as i shall presently show), we see the almost identical institution in italy in contact with roman law. what, then, was the amphictyonic council? those who have written upon it appear to me to have endeavoured to regard it too much as a federation. hence a double error. on the one side it was found that, instead of being a federation of all greece, at most it was only a federation of twelve cities; it was further found that it had no external action, and that on occasions, as, _e.g._ the persian war, in which the whole nation of greece acted as one people, it made no appearance.[ ] a feeling of disappointment necessarily supervened, and it was asked, if not a federation, what was it? on the other hand, although not a federation for the purposes of government or war, it would be an equal error to deny that it was a federation for certain purposes, more or less invisible to the eye, and which for such purposes retained sufficient vitality to assemble deputies twice a year, and during several centuries, for it is certain that it subsisted to the close of grecian history, when, indeed, we are astonished to find that when faith in everything else had died out, belief in the amphictyons again flickers into life. it is true that we know little, but the little that has transpired implies so much more. were it not for a casual passage in a speech of Æschines, we should hardly have known more than of their existence. as it is, we are thrown back upon conjecture, and upon what we can recover indirectly from tradition. now, if we suppose the amphictyonic council to have tradited down, and to have been a federation for the purposes of traditing down from primitive times, even in their rudimentary form, the rules and principles of the laws of nations, much that is strange and mysterious in its history will disappear.[ ] it will at once account for its duration and prestige, in spite of its inactivity and merely passive existence, even supposing that it is reduced in our estimation to a sort of convocation, powerless for action, and merely keeping alive a tradition of the past. from this point of view, the fact of its merely being a federation of twelve states, which is generally adduced to reduce it to unimportance, taken in connection with another fact which i shall presently substantiate, really militates in favour of my argument. it shows that instead of being the one typical institution of the sort, it is only the one which stands out most prominently in history, and merely handed down a tradition which was common to many others. i have already alluded to the latin league, through which, apparently, the romans recovered their tradition of the law common to all nations. if all these isolated federations retained their tradition of a law common to all nations--although practically limited to the members of their own confederation--is it not at once in evidence of the action of the dispersion and at the same time of a tradition anterior to the disruption? without pretending to have gone over the ground necessary to present an exhaustive catalogue of such federations, i may present the following facts in evidence and illustration. [ ] _vide_, pastoret, "hist. de la legislation," v. . [ ] "the oath taken by the deputies bound the amphictyons not to destroy any of the amphictyonic cities, or to debar them from the use of their fountains in peace or war; to make war on any who should transgress in these particulars ... or who should plunder the property of the god (the delphine apollo).... this is the oldest form of the amphictyonic oath which has been recorded, and is expressly called by Æskines the ancient oath of the amphictyons."--_cyclop. of arts and sciences._ outside the amphictyonic union there were other federations, even within the confines of greece itself:-- "qui avoient le même caractère, et peut-étre un caractère plus intime d'association entre des etats voisins, pour honorer ensemble des dieux, ou pour se prêter, dans certains cas, un appui necessaire. il s'en reunissoit une non loin de trezime ou argolide, une autre à corinthe, une autre à onchiste en beotie; on en trouve de semblables encore dans plusieurs îles de la grece, et dans les colonies de l'asie mineure.[ ] ces associations, au reste, ne seconderent pas moins la civilisation generale que n'auroit pu le faire un amphictyonat universel."--_pastoret, hist. de la legis._, v. . [ ] the ionian federation, composed also of twelve cities, was almost identical. "l'association s'etoit formée d'abord entre les douze cités, en y comprenant les deux îles voisines de samos et de chio.... on s'assembloit dans un lieu sacré du mont mycale, que les ionians avoient dediés en commun _à neptune_."--_pastoret_, ix. . there was also a confederacy of seven states, which met in the _temple of neptune_, in the island of calauria, "and which is even called by strabo, viii. , an amphictyonic council."--_cyclop. of arts and sciences_, art. amphic. council. we find the same federations when we come to italy:-- "among the other works of servius tullius was a temple of diana, which he erected on the aventine, apparently near the present church of sta. prisca. this temple, in imitation of the amphictyonic confederacy, was to be the common sanctuary and place of meeting for the cities belonging to the latin league, of which rome had become the chief through the conquest of alba longa; and her supremacy was tacitly acknowledged by the temple being erected with money contributed by the latin cities. it is said to have been an imitation of the artemisium, or temple of diana at ephesus. (liv. i. ; dionys. iv. ; varro, l. l. v. § ; val. max., vii. , § .) the brazen column containing the terms of the league, and the names of the cities belonging to it, was preserved in the time of dionysius."--dyer's _hist. of city of rome_, p. . compare this with niebühr, hist. ii. chap. ii. (travers twiss' "epitome.") "so long as latium had a dictator, none but he could offer sacrifice on the alban mount, and preside at the latin holidays, as the alban dictator had done before. he sacrificed on behalf of the romans likewise, as they did in the temple of diana on the aventine for themselves and the latins.... the opinion that the last tarquinius or his father constituted the festival is quite erroneous, as its antiquity is proved to have been far higher. it is true that tarquinius converted it into a roman festival, and probably, too, by throwing it open to a larger body, transformed the national worship of the latins into the means of hallowing and cementing the union between the states. the three allied republics had each its own place of meeting--at rome, at the spring of ferentina, and at anagnia, where the concilium of the hernican tribes was held in the circus; that the sittings of the diets were connected with the latin festival, seems to be evinced by the usage, that the consuls never took the field till after it was solemnised; and by its variableness, which implies that it was regulated by special proclamation. like the greek festivals it ensured a _sacred truce_." in these extracts we come upon a federation resembling the amphictyonic league, whose union is also cemented at a religious festival, the origin of which must be sought for in remote antiquity, and which festival has a direct connection with questions of peace and war. we also catch glimpses of similar federation among the hernici and marsi. now, let us go to quite an opposite point; and, if we find the same stratification cropping up, may we not conjecture it to have been once the same throughout. "when the europeans made their first settlements in america, six such nations had formed a league, had their amphictyons or states-general, and by the firmness of their union, and the ability of their councils, had obtained an ascendant from the mouth of the st lawrence to that of the mississippi. they appeared to understand the objects of the confederacy as well as those of separate nations; they studied a balance of power.... they had their alliances and treaties, which, like the nations of europe, they maintained or they broke upon reasons of state, and remained at peace from a sense of necessity or expediency, and went to war upon any emergency of provocation or jealousy."[ ] [ ] adam fergusson, "essay on civil society," . whatever the conduct of the iroquois or five nations (sometimes counted as six) may have been towards surrounding nations, the fidelity with which they held to their compacts among themselves is fully acknowledged. colden ("history of the five indian nations") says, "this union has continued so long that the christians know nothing of the original of it.... each of these nations is an absolute republick by itself, and every castle in each nation makes an independent republick and is governed by its own 'sachems' or old men.... they have certain customs which they observe in their publick transactions with other nations, and in their private affairs among themselves; which it is scandalous for any one among them not to observe, and these always draw after them either publick or private resentment whenever they are broke." in plato's republic, "it is laid down that the greeks are natural enemies of the barbarians, but are natural friends and _allies of one another, so that all hostilities between greek states_ are to be avoided--are to be conducted on principles of mildness and forbearance, and to be considered as civil discord rather than foreign war." "the ten kings of the atlantic island were never to make war on each other--there was a sort of congress between them." critias, chap. . sir g. c. lewis, "method," &c., ii. . this, taken in connection with what we know of the amphictyonic council, reads more like tradition than fiction. in mexico also there was "that remarkable league, which indeed has no parallel in history (?) it was agreed between the states of mexico, tezcuco, and the neighbouring little kingdom of tlascopan, that they should mutually support each other in their wars, offensive and defensive, and that in the distribution of the spoil one-fifth should be assigned to tlascopan, and the remainder be divided--in what proportions is uncertain--between the two other powers.... what is more extraordinary than the treaty itself, however, is the fidelity with which it was maintained."--_prescott's mexico_, i. p. . and in the republic of tlascala, it is said (_id._ i. ) "after the lapse of years, the institutions of the nation underwent an important change [they had previously separated into three divisions, of which tlascala was the largest]. the monarchy was divided, first into two, afterwards into four separate states, bound together by a sort of federal compact, probably not very nicely defined. each state, however, had its lord or superior chief, independent in his own territories, and possessed of co-ordinate authority with the others in all matters concerning the whole republic. the affairs of government, especially _all those relating to peace and war_, were _settled_ in a _senate_ or _council_, consisting of the four lords, with their inferior nobles." the tlascalans subsequently incorporated the othonius, or otomius (p. ). here, as in the greek and latin leagues, the primary objects of the law of nations seem to have been secured within the limits of their confederation, or of what they would have deemed the pale of civilization. the requirements of their horrible worship (_i.e._ the necessity of procuring human victims for their sacrifices) seems, however, to have overridden every other consideration, and to have impelled them to frequent wars with the nations outside the pale. in the case of the tlascalans, the traditional lines seem more clearly defined. i have already hinted, in a note, with reference to the greek and latin leagues that the atlantis of plato was, as indeed it professes to be, an embodiment of tradition, and not, as it is commonly regarded, as a figment of the imagination; but this strikes me still more forcibly when the league of the ten kings in the atlantis is compared with the league of the tlascalans. plato says: "the particulars respecting the governors were instituted from the beginning as follows. each of the ten kings possessed absolute authority, both over the men and the _greater part_ of the laws in his own division and in his own city, punishing and putting to death whomsoever he pleased. but the government and communion of these kings with each other were conformable to the _mandates given by neptune_; and this was likewise the case with their laws. these mandates were delivered to them by their ancestors on a pillar of orichalcum, which was erected about the middle of the island, _in the temple of neptune._ these kings, therefore, assembled together every fifth, and alternately, every sixth year, for the purpose of distributing an equal part both of the even and the odd; and when they assembled they deliberated on the public affairs, inquired if any one had acted improperly ... a sacrifice of _bulls_ was made in the temple of neptune, at the foot of the pillar of orichalcum.... but on the pillar, besides the laws, there was an oath, supplicating mighty imprecations against those who were disobedient.... there were also many _other laws_ respecting _sacred_ concerns, and such as were peculiar to the several kings; but _the greatest_ were the following: that they should _never wage war against each other_, and that all of them should give assistance if any one person in some one of their cities should endeavour to extirpate the royal race. and as they consulted in common respecting war, and other actions, in the same manner as their ancestors, they assigned the empire to the atlantis family."--_plato's works_, sydenham and taylor's tr., ii. . i think it will then be conceded, that whether or not there was a tradition "of a law common to all nations," there were at any rate channels provided, well adapted to conduct and disseminate it, and that these channels everywhere converge upon the most primitive times. before proceeding to ascertain whether anything has in fact been transmitted, i must draw attention more particularly to the circumstance that the tradition of all law is everywhere closely connected with the traditions of religion, has been handed down in a similar manner; and, so far as it retains the purity of primitive truth, under the same sanction. from this point of view the following passages from cicero appears to me to be very significant: "hanc igitur video sapientissimorum fuisse sententiam legem neque hominum ingeniis excogitatum, neque scitum aliquod esse populorum, _sed æternum quiddam_ quod universum mundum regerat imperandi, prohibendique sapientiâ.... quæ non tum denique incipit lex esse, cum scriptum est, sed tum cum orta est; orta autem simul est cum mente divina." "jam ritus familiæ patrumque servari, id est _quoniam antiquitas proxima accedit ad deos_, a deis quasi _traditam_, religionem tueri."--_cicero de legibus_, ii. , . there is another curious passage which seems to prove that the oracles originally existed simply for the preservation of the primitive tradition; and, although mixed up with imposture, that they seem to have had the knowledge, or at least the instinct, that their prestige and power of influence was within the limits of the traditions which they had corrupted or preserved.[ ] [ ] the general assemblies of greece were held at delos, "comme métropole du culte," pastoret ix. . "ce qu'il y a d'assuré, c'est que le pontife exerçoit sur plusieurs objets une véritable administration de la justice. la décision n'en appartenoit qu' à lui. les règles qu'il devoit suivre, le caractère et l'étendue de ses droits, étoient pareillement établis dans le recueil connu sous le nom de jus pontificum (macrobe parle deux fois de ce jus pontificum, mais comme d'un ouvrage perdu. saturn, vii. chap. xiii.) un fils du pontife romain publius scævola est même cité dans le livre des lois comme prétendant qu'on ne pouvoit exercer un si haut ministère sans savoir le _droit civil_. quoi, tout entier? dit cicéron, qui le refute; et qui font au pontife le droit des mers, le droit des eaux, ou d'autres droits semblables?"--pastoret ix. . "torts, then, are copiously enlarged upon in primitive jurisprudence. it must be added that _sins_ are known to it also. of the teutonic codes it is almost unnecessary to make this assertion.... but it is also true that non-christian bodies of archaic law entail penal consequences on certain classes of acts and on certain classes of omissions, as being _violations of divine prescriptions and commands_. the law administered at athens by the senate of the areopagus was probably a _special religious code_; and at rome, apparently from a _very early period_, the pontifical jurisprudence punished adultery, sacrilege, and perhaps murder. there were, therefore, in the athenian and in the roman states laws punishing _sins_."--sir h. maine, pp. , . the expression unwritten laws ([greek: agraphoi nomoi]) first occurs in the funeral oration of pericles (thuc. ii. ), when it appears to denote those laws of the state which are corroborated by the moral sanction. it next occurs.... xenophon, mem. iv. , § , , ... the expression was doubtless adopted by socrates from popular usage. thus plato speaks of [greek: ta kaloumena hypo tôn pollôn agrapha nomima] (leg. vii. ). _vide_ sir g. c. lewis, "method of rea. in pol.," ii. . [the "laws called unwritten by the multitude" must evidently imply laws known to the multitude but in tradition.] cicero, "de natura deorum," iii., says, "habes, balba, quid cotta, quid _pontifex_ sentiat. fac nunc, ego intelligam, quid tu sentias: a te enim philosopho rationem accipere debes religionis; _majoribus autem nostris etiam nulla ratione reddita credere_." "lex est cui homines obtemperare convenit, cum ob alia multa, tum ab eo maxime quod lex omnis inventus quidem, ac _dei munus est_." "lex est sanctio sancta, jubens _honesta_, prohibens contraria." "deinceps in lege est, _ut de ritibus patriis_ coluntur optimi, de quo cum consulerent athenienses apollinem pythium, quas potissimum religiones tenerent, oraculum editum est _eas quæ essent in more majorum_. quo cum iterum venissent, majorumque morem dixissent, sæpe esse mutatum, quæsivissentque quem morem potissimum sequerentur, e variis respondit, optimum. et perfecto ita est ut id habendum sit antiquissimum et a _deo proximum_ quod sit optimum."[ ]--_cicero de legibus,_ ii. . [ ] this last sentence is only a gloss of cicero's from the stoical point of view, since clearly the enunciation of the oracle would compel the conclusion, that what was most ancient and nearest the gods was the best, and not that the best, as abstractly conceived, was to be held the most ancient, &c. a moment's consideration will suffice to show that in this substitution is involved the whole extent of the difference between the principle of conservation and the principle of change. "demosthène qui avait en faire tant de mauvaises lois, prononçait que" toutes les lois sont l'ouvrage et le présent des dieux "et c'était à ce titre qu'il réclamit pour elles l'obéissance des hommes. socrate professait la même doctrine."--ozanam, "les germains avant le christianisme," i., . again, "quand on étudie les lois indiennes on y voit tout un grand peuple enchaîné par la terreur des dieux. le livre de la loi s'annonce comme une revelation.... les prescriptions du droit sacré enveloppent pour ainsi dire toute la vie civile, et c'est là qu'on decouvre enfin la raison de tant de coutumes dont les occidentaux avaient conservé la lettre, mais non l'esprit."--_id._ p. . "if the customs and institutions of barbarians have one characteristic more striking than another, it is their _extreme uniformity_" (maine's "ancient law," p. ). "there are in nature certain fountains of justice whence all civil laws are derived but as streams; and like as waters do take tinctures and tastes from the soils through which they run, so do civil laws vary according to the regions and governments where they are planted, though they proceed from the same fountains." (bacon, "advancement of learning," b. ii. w. iii. , ap.; d. rowland, "on the moral commandments," p. .) but this sentiment and tradition was not only common to the people of greece and rome, but to the yet uncivilised tribes of germany. "or les dispositions, où la coutume barbare et la loi romaine s'accordent, sont encore celles qui semblent faire le fond des législations grèques: non que les douze tables aient été copiées, comme on l'a cru, sur les lois de solon, mais à cause de l'étroite parenté des peuples de la grèce et du latium. a travers l'obscurité des siècles héroïques, on découvre un sacerdoce puissant qui a ses premiers établissements en thrace, en samothrace, à dodone, et qui perpétuera son autorité par l'institution des mystères. on voit aussi la resistance d'une race belliqueuse."--_ozanam_, "les germains avant le christianisme,"_ vol. i. chap. "les lois." "au premier abord rien ne semble plus contraire aux moeurs barbares que la loi romaine, si subtile, si précise, si bien obéie. cependant si l'on en considère les origines, on n'y trouve pas d'autres principes que ceux dont la trace subsistait dans les vieilles coutumes de la germanie. le droit primitif du rome, comme celui du nord, est un droit sacré."--_ib._ p. . "il existait chez les germains une autorité religieuse, _dépositaire de la tradition_, et qui y trouvait l'idéal et le principe de tout l'ordre civil. cette autorité avait créé la propriété immobilière en la rendant respectable par des rites et des symboles, ... elle l'engageait dans les liens de la famille légitime, consacrée par la sainteté du mariage, par le culte des ancêtres, par la solidarité du sang: elle l'enveloppait dans le corps de la nation sédentaire, ou elle avait établi une hierarchie de caste et de pouvoir, à l'exemple de la hierarchie divine de la création" (p. ). "dans cette suite de scènes dont se compose pour ainsi dire le drame judiciaire, on reconnaît un pouvoir religieux, qui cherche _à sauver la paix, à désarmer la guerre_ et qui s'y prend de trois façons différentes" (p. ). now, if we are agreed that fitting channels for the diffusion of the tradition existed; if, further, we find that all law seems to trace itself back to a common source of supernatural revelation; if the resemblances in the traditions concerning the lawgivers of antiquity--and, with the exception of lycurgus, the agreement in the fundamentals of their codes--in the great lines of the family, property, and the external relations of life, seems to require the supposition of some common fountain-head at which they all filled the pitcher--we shall, i think, when we come to the question of public law, only require further some evidence of a tradition of maxims, rules, and precedents of procedure in war, founded on and appealing to natural right, and claiming the sanction of the gods, to establish the existence of a law common to all nations different from that which would have arisen from the judgment of the prætors, merely applying the rules and maxims common to the romans and the adjoining nations, in case of conflict where the law of the state was not allowed to be applied (_supra_, maine). i shall, doubtless, be reminded that this was only part of sir h. maine's argument, and that it was this, taken in connection with the influence of the stoics on roman law, and the stoical conception of nature,[ ] which created the fiction of a law of nature, and of a law common to all nations. [ ] "l'erreur a été de croire qu'il n'est rien de plus facile à l'homme que de suivre la nature, tandis que c'est au contraire le chef-d'oeuvre de l'art que de la contenir dans les bornes que la nature lui prescrit: c'est où peuvent à peine parvenir les legislateurs les plus sages. que de préjugés à éteindre! que d'erreurs à combattre! que d'habitudes à vaincre! toutes choses qui dans tous les temps commandent impérieusement au genre humain."--_l'antiquité dévoilée par ses usages_, i. . ii. ch. iii. _par boulanger_. let it then be granted that the theories and maxims of the stoics had their influence on roman society and roman law. it was only part of the influence which stole over and everywhere impregnated the field of primitive tradition. sir h. maine shows us how it at once seized upon the element of law, which, be it in fiction only, was said to be common to all nations. would it the less have seized upon it if, instead of being a fiction, it had been a reality?--_à fortiori_, it would have done so. therefore sir h. maine leaves the question as to the belief among the ancients in a "law common to all nations" still open, or rather, so far as there is an argument, it is only with the previous part of his theory that it is necessary to deal; for all that sir h. maine's finely-drawn reasoning and subtle detection of the influence of grecian stoicism on roman law accounts for--so far as the present argument is concerned--is the greater attention and respect which was henceforward paid to the fiction, supposing that it had not heretofore and always been paid to the fact, that there was a traditional law common to all nations. i have previously (p. ) pointed out the distinction between the law of nations and international law, and i am under the impression that i made the distinction before the publication of sir h. maine's work--certainly before i had become acquainted with it. the manner in which sir h. maine makes the distinction does not appear to me to be quite accurate. he says:--"it is almost unnecessary to add that the confusion between _jus gentium_, or law common to all nations, and international law, is entirely modern. the classical expression for international law is _jus feciale_, or the law of negotiation and diplomacy" (p. ). the fecial college was very far from corresponding with our corps diplomatique, neither was its law a law of negotiation and diplomacy; and the distinction between the law of nations and international law was made in modern times, _precisely because_ in antiquity treaty law was subordinate to, and identified with, the traditional law. the fecial college corresponded much more nearly to what our heralds' college would be, supposing the heralds' college invested with the authority of our admiralty courts, and also made the trustees of the foundation for the study of international law, which dr whewell's bequest had the intention of instituting at cambridge. we should then have, as in ancient times, a body of men who would be at once the depositaries, the interpreters, and the heralds of a tradition, though, to complete the picture, we should have to invest them with a sacred character, and in some way to give to their decisions the sanction of religion. dionysius of halicarnassus tells us that they were priests chosen from the best families at rome, and that their special intention was to see that the romans never made an unjust war. "the seventh part of the sacred laws was devoted to the college of the fecials, whom the greeks call [greek: eirênodikai].[ ] they are men selected from the most illustrious families, and are dedicated during their whole life to this priesthood.... it would take long to enumerate all the various duties of the fecials, which were multifarious, ... but in the main they are these,--to take heed lest the romans should ever undertake an unjust war with a city with which they were in league" (lib. ii.); it was their duty to demand reparation, and, failing, to declare war; in case of differences with allies, they acted as mediators, and they adjudicated in case of disputes. it was for them to decide what constituted an injury to the person of an ambassador, and whether or not the generals had acted according to their oaths; to draw up the articles of treaties, truces, and the like; and to decide as to their nullity and validity, and to communicate accordingly with the senate, which deliberated upon their report. [ ] [greek: eirênodikai]--"feciales quia _interpretes_ et _arbitri_ sunt pacis et belli."--_lexicon_, ben-hederic, ernesti. _vide_ also plutarch, "numa;" livy, lib. i. c. . vattel, iii. c. iv., says:--"it is _surprising_ to find among the romans such justice, such moderation and prudence, _at a time too_ when apparently nothing but courage and ferocity was to be expected from them." what cicero tells us is not less to the point:-- "there are certain peculiar laws of war also, which are of all things most strictly to be observed.... as we are bound to be merciful to those whom we have actually conquered, so should those also be received into favour who have laid down their arms.... our good forefathers were most strictly just as to this particular, the custom of those times making him the patron of a conquered city or people who first received them into the faith and allegiance of the people of rome. in short, _the whole right and all the duties of war_ are most rigorously set down in the _fecial laws_, out of which it is manifest that no war can be justly undertaken _unless satisfaction has been first demanded_, and _proclamation_ of it made _publicly beforehand_."--cicero, _offices_, i. xi.; again, also, _vide_ iii. xxxi. compare these passages with mr gladstone's account of the homeric age:-- "in that early age, despite the prevalence of piracy, even that idea of political justice and public right, which is the germ of the law of nations, was not unknown to the greeks. it would appear that war could not be made without an appropriate cause, and that the offer of redress made it the duty of the injured to come to terms. hence the offer of paris in the third iliad is at once readily accepted; and hence, even after the breach of the act, arises agamemnon's fear, at the moment when he anticipates the death of menelaus, that by that event the claim to the restoration of helen will be practically disposed of, and the greeks will have to return home without reparation for a wrong, of which the _corpus_, as it were, will have disappeared."--_iliad_, iv. - .[ ] [ ] gladstone, "homer and the homeric age," iii. . it is certainly not within the scope of this chapter to indicate the multiform applications of the law of nations, which it would require a legist's special knowledge (to which the writer can lay no claim) to determine with any exactness. my object has been merely to sustain the traditional belief against those who deny it. i shall indeed, for the purposes of illustration, go into detail on one point, viz. the declaration of war; but i may mention incidentally that the fecial and amphictyonic law presumably extended to many other points, such as treaties, trophies,[ ] truces,[ ] hostages, and the like. moreover, the maritime law of rhodes and the islands of the Ægean, known to the romans long before it was embodied in their code (which was not probably until they had extended maritime relations), presents, as pastoret (ix. ) informs us, "analogies et rapprochemens multipliés" with modern maritime legislation from the time of the romans to the "ordonnance de la marine" drawn up by order of louis xiv. [ ] "to demolish a trophy was looked on as unlawful, and a kind of sacrilege, because they were all dedicated to some deity; nor was it _less a crime to pay crime_ to pay divine adoration before them, or to repair them when decayed, as may be _likewise_ observed of the roman triumphal arches.... for the same reason, those grecians who introduced the custom of erecting pillars for trophies incurred a severe censure from the ages they lived in."--_potters "archæologia_," ii. c. . "before the greeks engaged themselves in war it was usual to publish a declaration of the injuries they had received, and to demand satisfaction by ambassadors; which custom was observed even in _the most early ages_.... it is therefore no wonder what polybius relates of the Ætolians, that they were held for the common _outlaws_ and robbers of greece, it being their manner to strike without warning, and make war without any previous or public declaration."--_id._ ii. c. vii. p. . (compare _infra_, ch. xv.) [ ] "omnes portas concionabundus ipse imperator circumiit, et quibuscumque irritamentis poterat, iras militum accuebat, nunc fraudem hostium incusans, qui, pace petita, induciis datis, per ipsum induciarum tempus, _contra jus gentium_ ad castra oppugnando venisset."--_p. livius_, . xc. in an article on "belligerent rights at sea" (in the _home and foreign review_, july ), in which there will be found a nice discrimination of these questions, mr e. ryley says:-- "the very largest rule of belligerent rights limits the voluntary destruction of life and property by the necessity of the occasion and the object of the war. bynkershock and wolf insist that everything done against the enemy is lawful, and admit fraud, poison, and the murder, as we should call it, of non-combatants, as permissible expedients for attaining the object of the war. but these are the writers who lay the foundations of the law of nations in reason and custom, and ignore that perception and judgment of right and wrong which god has communicated to man. it is true that for the most part, and practically, we know the law of nations by reason and usage; but this law is founded not on that by which we know its decisions, but on justice; and reason must admit, and usage must adopt, whatever is clearly shown to be just and right, however this may be against precedent, and what has hitherto been held to be sound reason. there is no law without justice, nor any justice without conscience, nor any conscience without god. grotius thus admirably expresses himself:--'jus naturale est dictatum rectæ rationis, indicans actui aliqui, ex ejus convenientiâ aut disconvenientiâ cum ipsa naturâ rationali, inesse moralem turpitudinem, aut necessitatem moralem, _ac consequenter ab auctore naturæ, deo, talem actum vetari aut præcipi_. actus, de quibus tale extat dictatum, _debiti sunt aut illiciti per se, atque ideo a deo necessario præcepti aut vetiti intelliguntur_.'[ ] and this principle obtains greater force from the objections which have been made to it, and the efforts to establish another foundation for the law of nations. thus the principle of utility is only a feeble attempt to give another name to the law of justice which god has implanted in his creatures; and to pretend to found a law on general usage and tacit consent is to mistake the evidence of justice for justice itself." [ ] "de jure belli ac pacis," l. i. c. l. § x. n n, et . at first sight the passage quoted from mr ryley's article would seem to militate against my position; in reality we merely take up different weapons against bynkershock and wolf. if custom means merely precedent, it may or may not be in accordance with "that perception of right and wrong which god has communicated to man;" but if there is a tradition of a law of nations, the fact creates so great a presumption in favour of its pronouncements, that what is of usage and custom will be the criterion of what is right until the human intellect has shown that what has hitherto been held to be permissible was founded in a precedent of iniquity. on the other hand, we are agreed that the law of nations must be such as to stand the test of the "perception and judgment of right and wrong." as this perception, however, has never wholly died out among mankind, whatever is of general acceptance carries with it an assurance that it has stood this test; and "general usage and the tacit consent" is so much "the evidence of justice," that it has practically been taken, or mistaken by mankind "for justice itself," and the law of nations has always been discussed on the basis of usage. this, i contend, would not have been the case if there had not been behind usage the immemorial sanction and tradition, or if the tacit consent had been only acquiescence in wrong. i am the more confirmed in this view on perceiving that mr ryley, after stating his own opinion as to the right of blockade, finds his conclusions, when he has discriminated such precedents as were of an exceptional and retaliatory character, to be in conformity with usage and the decision of legists. from this point of view those who contend for the basis of tradition and those who contend for the basis of natural justice mean the same thing. they both affirm that there are limitations to human passion even in war. they are both opposed to precedents based on force, and are equally hostile to "the principle of utility," for if, as mr ryley puts it, "the principle of utility" is only "another name for the law of justice which god has implanted in his creatures," the phrase is an understatement of the truth, liable to misconstruction, and tends to lower the standard of right; and if it means something different or distinct from this, it means that against which the tradition of mankind protests. i have already said that international law, as distinguished from the law of nations, requires to be constantly discriminated by the intellect or the conscience of mankind, and more especially now that diplomatists are no longer legists. there was a certain indirect and collateral influence arising out of the tradition of a law of nations from the fact that a body of men existing as its interpreters, or at least as its depositaries, which it appears to me was destined to operate powerfully in the interests of peace. the existence of such a body of men perpetuated a public opinion in these matters, they fostered an _esprit de corps_ stronger even than the spirit of nationality which then reigned supreme and dominated society. when a violation of treaties or an unjust aggression took place there was thus found a body of men who would stigmatise or at least recognise it as such. the sentiment thus sustained was not all-influential for the purposes of peace, but it was operative to the extent of arresting the attention and perturbing the consciences of mankind. in like manner i venture to say that the diplomatic body, although the depositaries only of a bastard tradition, subserve this purpose also after a fashion, and i much doubt whether many well-intentioned men, in striving to compass its abolition would not, as matters stand, destroy the last breakwater which secures the peace of europe. in ancient times the comity of nations was virtually restricted to groups of cities or nations of kindred descent, or which had become confederate by reason of contiguity. this circumstance has been adduced by sir g. c. lewis to stop _in limine_ the theory of a law of nations;[ ] as if it was necessarily in denial of a tradition of morality common to all nations. yet, i think that i shall be able to show instances of its recognition as between the groups, but it is precisely in its restricted application within the groups, and in the channels thus provided, that i think we shall find common features, and dimly and obscurely, though certainly, catch glimpses of the tradition. [ ] sir g. c. lewis ("method, &c., of reasoning in politics," ii. ), quotes mr ward, "history of law of nations" (i. ), to the effect "that what is commonly called the law of nations, is not the law of _all_ nations, but only of such sets or classes of them as are united together by similar religions and systems of morality." sir g. c. lewis' view is that "as there are no universal principles of civil jurisprudence which belongs to each community, so there are no universal principles of international law which are common to all communities."--_id._ if i may complete my thought, these confederations were so many types and anticipations of that amphictyonic council, which, if things had not persistently gone wrong in the world, might have been formed in mediæval times by christendom under the presidency of the popes,[ ] and which may yet be realised in the triumph of religion which seems to be signified in the motto _lumen in coelo_, as attaching to the successor of the present pope, whose pontificate has been so singularly prefigured in the indication _crux de cruce_.[ ] [ ] since writing the above, i have read a series of papers (which commenced i think in august ) in the _tablet_ under the title of "arbitration instead of war," and i perceive that the writer arrives by a different route at a similar conclusion. i should have had pleasure in incorporating the argument with this chapter, but i shall do better if i induce my readers to peruse and weigh it as it deserves. [ ] i allude to the ancient prophecy of st malachy. its authenticity as the prophecy of st malachy may be questioned; but the antiquity of the prediction, and its existence in print early in the sixteenth century is, i believe, fully established. the copy which lies before me will be found in moreri's dictionary of , in the pontificate of innocent xiii. twelve mottoes given _in prediction_ from that date, fits the motto "_crux de cruce_," to the th successor of innocent, viz. pius ix. ten other mottoes follow commencing with "lumen in coelo." in the _times_, november , , it was said, "if this theory ['the states of christendom constituted as a species of commonwealth'] could be rendered effectual, international law would be furnished at once with its greatest need, a court to enforce its behests; but nothing is plainer than that for such arbitration _the arbitrators must be fetched from another planet_." but, inasmuch as abraham lincoln practically remarked, you cannot have "a cabinet of angels" in this world, the thing is to discover the arbitrator who is the furthest removed from sublunary influences. now, how strong soever may be our national mistrusts and prejudices, we cannot refuse to recognise that the papacy ostensibly satisfies these conditions, and this irrespective of the belief of the preponderant section of the christian world that he is the infallible guide, and the divinely appointed interpreter of the tradition of morals. its representatives being always old men naturally inclined to peace,[ ] the sovereign of a small state which a general war would imperil--professing maxims and therefore pledged to a programme of peace--(so that any deviation from it, as in the case of julius ii., would render glaring and abnormal acts which would have been unnoticed in an ordinary sovereign), a sovereign without a family (and whatever may be said of nepotism, it must be conceded that a man who has only collateral relatives is _less_ tempted to found a family than one who has sons), a sovereign, in fine, representing the oldest line of succession in the world,[ ] in the oldest city, in the centre of tradition, and like noah in the traditional symbols (_ante_, p. ), linking the new world with the old. [ ] "the pontifical power is, from its essential constitution, the least subject to the caprices of politics. he who wields it is, moreover, always aged, unmarried, and a priest; all which circumstances exclude ninety-nine hundredths of all the errors and passions which disturb states."--_de maistre, du pape_, b. ii. chap. iv. [ ] "the history of that church joins together the two great ages of human civilisation. no other institution is left standing which carries the mind back to the times when the smoke of sacrifice rose from the pantheon, and when the cameleopards and tigers bounded in the flavian amphitheatre. the proudest royal houses are but of yesterday when compared with the line of the supreme pontiffs. that line we trace back in an unbroken series, from the pope who crowned napoleon in the nineteenth century, to the pope who crowned pepin in the eighth; and far beyond the time of pepin the august dynasty extends, till it is lost in the twilight of fable.... the catholic church is still sending forth to the farthest ends of the world missionaries as zealous as those who landed in kent with augustine, _and still confronting hostile kings with the same spirit with which she confronted attila."--macaulay's essays, "review of ranke's popes._" this, i find (i quote from a series of important papers on "english statesmen and the independence of popes," _tablet_, november ), was fully recognised by our greatest minister, mr pitt. in , "pitt suggested, through françois de conzié, bishop of arras, that the pope should put himself at the head of a european league." "on more than one occasion," he wrote, "i have seen the continental courts draw back before the divergences of opinion and of religion which separate us. i think that a common bond ought to unite us all. _the pope alone can be this centre._... we are too much divided by personal interests or by political views. rome alone can raise an impartial voice, and one free from all exterior preoccupations. rome, then, ought to speak according to the measure of her duties, and not merely of her good wishes, which no one doubts." there have been at different periods of the world various projects of universal pacification;[ ] but it is worthy of remark that they have almost all, from that of henri iv. to the one recently broached by the professor of modern history at cambridge, taken the traditional lines of a confederation of states more or less circumscribed with an amphictyonic council. this has its significance from the point of view i am indicating, but i do not see that it is satisfactorily accounted for on any other view.[ ] [ ] sir g. c. lewis, "method, &c.," ii. , enumerates several. [ ] in de quincey's works, xii. , there is a disquisition on kant's scheme "of a universal society founded on the empire of political justice," where it is competent that as the result of wars man must be inevitably brought "to quit the barbarous condition of lawless power and to enter into a federal league of nations, in which even the weakest number looks for its rights and protection--not to its own power, or its own adjudication, but to this great confederation (_foedus amphictyonum_), to the united power, and the adjudication of the collective will," and is said to be "the inevitable resource and mode of escape under that pressure of evil which nations reciprocally inflict," and which seems to contemplate a situation like the present. "finally war itself becomes gradually not only so artificial a process, so uncertain in its issue, but also is the after-pains of inextinguishable national debts (a contrivance of modern times) so anxious and burdensome; ... that at length those governments which have no immediate participation in the war, under a sense of their own danger, offer themselves as mediators, though as yet without any sanction of law, and thus prepare all things from afar for the formation of a great primary state-body or cosmopolitic areopagus, such as is wholly _unprecedented_ in all preceding ages." i am fully aware of the divergence of this view from that which i have indicated, but i wish to point out that it is only "unprecedented" in so far as it is cosmopolitic and extends to all humanity; but so extending it ought not to include the traditional notions of an "areopagus"--_foedus amphictyonum_--or confederation of states. it ought rather to talk of an interfusion of states, the only condition upon which the cosmopolitic areopagus would be possible; yet it inevitably falls into the traditionary lines. moreover, before mankind can attain to this _inter-fusion_ of states, one supreme difficulty, which seems always to be over-looked, must be overcome, we must bring mankind back to be "of one lip and one speech." the scheme, on the other hand, of a federation cannot be pronounced impracticable until it has been tried; yet, although it lies latent in the idea of christendom, and although it has had a sort of informal recognition in the theory and policy of the balance of power, there has never been any understanding from which we can gather what the results would be, if the bond of federation were ever cemented by any solemn pledge or sanction. it would seem, then, that there has always existed in the world the tradition, and since the triumph of christianity, the conditions by which, if it had so willed, it might have recovered the golden age of peace and happiness of which it has never entirely lost the tradition. until this consummation we must fall back upon the law of nations,[ ] though even here it must be borne in mind that christianity has exercised an indirect influence, and has raised the standard of morality for the world at large.[ ] but when all is abated the law of nations remains the _lex legum_, deeply founded in the maxims, sentiments, and usages of mankind. these maxims in their tradition have been concurrently interpreted, adapted, and in a certain sense moulded by the intellect of legists, whose discriminations or conclusions have received the tacit approbation of mankind. rarely has the production of any profane writer received such an unanimous ratification as the great work of hugo grotius, mainly, as we have seen (_ante_, p. ), based on tradition. again, the agreement and correspondence among the legists of different nationalities is substantial, and is only to be accounted for upon the supposition that each in his own groove faithfully incorporated and elaborated a tradition; and if you say that this was only an argument among the separate traditions of the roman law, you only put back the argument one remove, as i have attempted to demonstrate. if conversely you say that the law of nations as we find it is purely the work and elaboration of legists, and the conclusions of abstract reason, put it to this test, bring all the legists of the world into a congress--such a congress is much needed just now--with instructions to create a new code on abstract principles, and upon the basis of the rejection of what is of custom and tradition, and see what they will accomplish! do not all our difficulties begin exactly where, owing to the complications of modern civilisation, tradition ceases? for the rest we shall presently see what the congress of paris, in , was able to effect in this kind. [ ] "historicus" (letter in the _times_, february , ) writes--"the system of international law professes to be a code of rules which ought to govern, and in fact in a great degree _does govern_, the conduct of independent nations in their dealings with one another.... how can one doubt that in fact such a rule exists and does operate? let us test the matter by an example. when the news of the affair of the _trent_ reached england, what was the first question that every one asked? was it not this, 'is this act conformable to the law of nations, or is it not?' did not the english cabinet summon all the most distinguished jurists to advise them what the law of nations was? was not the decision absolutely dependent on their advice.... the code of the law of nations, based on all other laws, on morality, deduced by the reasoning of jurists from well established principles, illustrated by precedents, gathered from usage, confirmed by experience, has become from age to age more and more respected as the arbiter of the rights and duties of nations, ... and now, after this system has been elaborated with so much care, and has yielded results so beneficial to the human race, we are to be told that the only real question in differences between nations is, 'whether, all things considered, it is or _is not worth while to go to war_?' not, be it observed, _right_ or _wrong_ to go to war. this is exactly the doctrine set forth in the celebrated thelian controversy recorded in thucydides." w. oke manning, "commentaries on the law of nations" (p. ), says, "sir j. mackintosh in his 'hist. of the progress of ethical philosophy' (prefixed to the 'encyclopædia britannica,' p. ), speaks of _suarez_ as the writer who first saw that international law was composed not only of the simple principles of justice applied to intercourse between states, but of those _usages long observed_ in that intercourse by the european race which have since been more exactly distinguished as the consuetudinary law acknowledged by the christian nations of europe and america. but suarez himself speaks of this distinction as already recognised by previous writers." [ ] "la religion chrétienne, qui ne semble avoir d'objet que la félicité de l'autre vie, fait encore notre bonheur dans celle-ci.... que d'un côté, l'on se mette devant les yeux les massacres continuels des rois et des chefs grecs et romains, ... et nous verrons que nous devons au christianisme, et dans le gouvernement un certain droit politique, et dans la guerre un certain droit des gens, que la nature humaine ne saurait assez reconnaître."--_montesquieu, "esprit des lois_," i. xxiv. chap. . chapter xv. _the declaration of war._ i think we have already distinct evidence that the fecial law was something more than our treaty and diplomatic law. let us examine it more particularly in action. if the law of nations ever was appealed to, and, if over and above, there was a tradition of a divine revelation, or even of a prescriptive law founded on natural right, and having reference to war, which was ever invoked, it would have been in the first instance of aggression, supposing, as is implied in the term, that it was without fair cause and without fair warning. the declaration of war, therefore, is manifestly the hinge upon which the whole system of the law of nations turns.[ ] accordingly, the further we go back the more solemn and formal do we find the declaration of war to be. [ ] i must here do mr urquhart the justice to point out that he has been the principal advocate of this doctrine, that the declaration of war is the turning-point upon which everything depends, and more than any other man has laboured to enforce it. (_vide_ "effects on the world of the restoration of canon law," by d. urquhart, .) at p. , mr urquhart refers to the action taken by the fecials. i have the misfortune to differ with mr urquhart on many points, but i have pleasure in bearing testimony as above. "in every instance the declaration of war was accompanied by _religious formalities_. when the senate believed that it had cause of complaint against a nation, it sent a fecial to his frontier. there the pontiff, his head bound with a woollen veil,[ ] exposed the griefs of the romans and demanded satisfaction. if it was not granted, he went back to render an account of his mission to the senate, ... and after a delay of thirty or thirty-three days they voted a declaration of war. then the fecial returned to the frontier, and, _casting a javelin_ into the enemy's country, he pronounced the following formula--'quod populus hermundulus,' &c.... every war which had not been declared in this manner was considered as unjust, and certain to incur the displeasure of the gods. in the _course of time_ this solemn declaration was replaced by a vain formality."[ ] [ ] the very rev. dr rock ("textile fabrics," p. xii.) says--"the ancient british speciality was wool, and the postulants asking admission to the different castes, the sacerdotal, bardic, and the leeches or natural philosophers, were distinguished by _stripes_ of white [cicero (de legibus, ii. ) says, "color autem albus præcipere decorus deo est quum in cateris tum maxima in textili"], blue, and green severally on their mantles, although the bards themselves were distinguished by some one of the colours above-mentioned (_vide infra_). [the significance of this will be noted at p. .] i may further remark, parenthetically, that here is an instance of national civilisation being _pari passu_ with religious traditions. the british speciality was wool--_query_, because "of the heavy stress laid upon the rule which taught that the official colour in their dress," &c. (_id., vide ante_, chap. xii. p. .) st paul says (heb. ix. ), "for when every commandment of the lord had been read by moses to all the people, he took the blood of calves and goats, with water, and scarlet _wool_, and hyssop, and sprinkled both the book itself and all the people" (goguet, "origin of laws," ii. p. ). the spaniards in made a treaty of peace with the indians of chili; they have preserved the memory of the forms used at the ratification. it is said that the indians killed many sheep, and stained in their blood a _branch_ of the cane-tree, which the deputy of the caciques put into the hands of the spanish general in token of peace and alliance." goguet also refers to heb. ix. . [ ] de fresquet, "_droit romain_," i. . montfauçon ("l'antiquité expliquée," ii. , p. iv., p. ) says:-- "lorsqu'ils alloient parlementer, ils avoient sur la tête un voile tissu de laine,[ ] et ils étoient couronnéz de vervaine: leur office étoit d'impêcher que les romains n'entreprissent point de guerre injuste: d'aller comme legats vers les nations qui violoient les traitez, etc.... ils prenoient aussi connaissance faits au legats de _part et d'autre_. quand la paix ne se trouvoit pas faite selon les loix, ils la declaroient nulle. si les commandans avoient fait quelque chose _contre la justice et contre le droit des gens_, ils reparoient leur faute et expioient leur crime, ... à cause du violement des traites faits devant numance, dit ciceron par un décret du senat le patrapatratus livra, c. mancinus aux numantins."[ ] [ ] compare with the description of saturn, "saturnus, velato capite falcam gerens."--_fulgent. mythol._ i. c. . [ ] in the above extract from montfauçon it should have been added, that when the romans sent one of their fecials to declare war he went in sacerdotal habit--"arrivant au confins de la ville, il _appelloit_ à temoins jupiter et les autres dieux comme il alloit demander réparation de l'injure au nom des romains, il faisoit des _imprécations_ sur lui et sur la ville de rome, s'il disoit rien contre la vérité, et continuoit son chemin ... s'il rencontroient quelque citoien quelque payisan (paysan) il _repétoit toujours_ ses imprécations," &c. we must content ourselves, of course, with what evidence we may get of similar institutions elsewhere; but what strikes me as strange in the contrast of modern civilisation with barbarism, is, that whereas our advances, whether in the sense of peace and war (whenever they are formally made), are commonly understood, the corresponding demonstrations on the side of barbarism are invariably misconstrued. when, for instance, captain cook approached the shores of bolabola, he describes the following scene, which reads to me very like the account we have just been reading of the roman herald:-- "soon after a _single man_ ran along the shore armed with _his lance_, and when he came abreast of the boat he began to dance, brandish his weapon, and call out in a very _shrill tone_, which tupia [a native of an adjacent island who was on board] said was a _defiance from the people_.... as the boat rowed slowly along the shore back again, _another_ champion came down, shouting defiance, and brandishing his lance. his appearance was more formidable than that of the other, for he wore a large cap made of the tail feathers of the topia bird, and his body was covered _with stripes of different coloured cloth_, _yellow, red, and brown_.... soon after a more grave and elderly man came down to the beach, and hailing the people in the boat, inquired who they were, and from whence they came.[ ]... after a short conference they all began _to pray very loud_. tupia made his responses, but continued to tell us they were not our friends" (i. ). [ ] a somewhat similar scene is also indistinctly traced in the following:--"wood relates that on his visit to st julian in , in walking inland he 'met seven savages, who came running down the hill to us, making _several signs_ for us to go back again, with much warning and noise, yet did _not offer to_ draw their arrows. but one of them who was _an old man_ came nearer to us than the rest, and made also signs we should depart, to whom i threw a knife, a bottle of brandy, and a neckcloth, to pacify him; but seeing him persist in the _same signs as before_, and that the savageness of the people seemed incorrigible, we returned on board again.'" quoted by r. o. cunningham, "natural history of the straits of magellan and west coast of patagonia," , p. . a similar scene is described by roggerwsen in his voyage, i think, to easter island. this, in connection with the scene at bolabola, recalls the mode of procedure in the odyssey, ix. (pope), when ulysses reaches "the land of lotus and the flowering coast. we climbed the beach and springs of water found, then spread our hasty banquet on the ground. three men were sent deputed from the crew (a herald one) the dubious coast to view, and learn what habitants possessed the place. they went and found a hospitable race, not prone to ill, nor strange to foreign guest: as our dire neighbours of cyclopean birth." let this be taken in connection with the following narrative:--[ ] "the large canoes came close round the ship, some of the indians playing on a kind of flute, others singing, and the rest blowing on a sort of shells. soon after, a large canoe advanced, in which was an awning, on the top of which sat _one_ of the natives holding some _yellow_ and _red_ feathers in his hand. the captain having consented to his coming alongside, he delivered the feathers, and while a present was preparing for him, he put back from the ship, and _threw the branch_ of a cocoa-tree in the air. this was doubtless the _signal_ for an onset, for there was an instant shout from all the canoes, which, approaching the ship, threw volleys of stones into every part of her." [ ] _vide_ captain wallis' voyage, in "hist. account of all the voyages round the world," , iii. p. . here the question appears to me to be whether this act of throwing the branch, so analogous to the throwing the javelin, which was the final act in the roman declaration of war (and to which our throwing down the glove or the gauntlet has analogy), was merely the signal to themselves, or whether it was not also the _notice_ of attack to the enemy. upon this will depend whether we are to consider it a treacherous "ruse" (and the presentation of the feathers has that aspect), or whether it was their traditional mode of declaration of war, and construed to be a treacherous attack, because the gallant navigator belonged to a nation more ignorant of the laws of nations than the savages they encountered. from the very fact of their having enacted this comedy or ceremonial, it must be inferred either that they attached some superstitious importance to its performance, and expected some good effects from it to themselves, or that they thought that it would be understood by their adversaries, in which case they must implicitly have believed it to be common to all nations. in either case it is just possible that after the manner of savages, they may have confused the symbols of peace and war, and ran into one what the romans had carefully distinguished--the "caduceatores",[ ] who went to demand peace, and the "fecials," who were sent to denounce war. [ ] caduceatores--compare _supra_, p. . in connection with these latter, let us inquire more particularly as to their wand of office, the _caduceus_. "in its _oldest_ form" it "was merely a _bough_ twined round with _white wool_; afterwards a white or gilded staff with imitations of _foliage_ and _ribands_ was substituted for the old rude symbol. these were probably not turned into snakes till a much later age, when that reptile had acquired a mystic character." müller's explanation is that it was originally the _olive branch_ with the stemmata, which latter became developed into serpents.--_encyc. of arts and sciences._ if, therefore, müller's explanation is correct, the oldest form of the symbol of office of those who were the depositaries of laws of nations in the matter of peace and war, was a symbol which has a special history and significance in connection with the deluge. will this not tend to identify their institution with that epoch? it will, perhaps, be said that the branch of a tree is in any case a natural symbol of peace. but why a symbol or token at all? why more than a simple gesture of salutation? unless the symbol embodied some idea which conveyed a pledge over and above? what, then, was this idea, unless the traditional idea? it may appear to us a natural emblem, but it is not so from association of ideas with the scriptural dove and olive branch? and yet consider how universal it is. captain cook's voyages (i. p. ; london, ) says, "it is remarkable that the chief, like the people in the canoes, presented to us the same symbol of peace that is known to have been in use _among the ancient_ and mighty nations of the northern hemisphere, _the green branch of a tree_." this occurred both in new zealand and otaheite. wallis ("voyages round the world," iii. ) says that on an occasion when the otaheitans wished to testify fidelity and friendliness, "the indians cut branches from the trees and laid them in a _ceremonious_ manner at the feet of the seamen; they painted themselves _red_ with the berries of a tree, and stained their garments _yellow_ with the bark of another." we have, as we have just seen, found this symbol in the caduceus, and it appears to me that the caduceus in its earlier form of a staff with foliage and ribands, is recognisable in the gothic monuments as given in stephens' "central america." _vide_ also cunningham's "bhilsa topes." washington irving ("life of columbus," iii. ) speaks of the natives coming forward to meet them with _white flags_; and the same, if i remember rightly, is recorded in cook's visit to the sandwich islanders. the _white flag_ is our own symbol; but what is the white flag but the development and refinement of the staff and white wool? again, why are _stripes_, in a variety of combination of colour, the characteristic symbol of flags? the reader will find the answer on returning to the text, where he will also learn the significance of the red and yellow, in the above descriptions. the red and yellow colours of the feathers in the above account may afford a clue, when it is remembered (_vide_ note), that they coincide with the colour used by the otaheitans to testify fidelity and friendliness; but, to appreciate this in its full significance, it will be necessary to show how commonly the traditional symbols of peace among the ancients had reference to the diluvian traditions, more especially the dove and the rainbow. assuming for the moment that bryant is right in his derivation of the names of juno and venus from jönah (hebrew), and [greek: oinas] (greek) = dove,[ ] i ask attention to the following, in connection with the red and yellow feathers of the polynesians, and the tail feathers of the topia bird mentioned by cook (_supra_, p. ).[ ] (bryant, ii. ), "as the peacock, in the full expansion of his plumes, displays all the beautiful colours of the iris (the rainbow), it was probably for that reason made the bird of juno, instead of the dove, which was appropriated to venus. the same history was variously depicted in different places, and consequently as variously interpreted." (compare p. .) [ ] ii. p. . [ ] _vide_ also in carver's "north america" (p. ), an engraving of the indian "calumet of peace,"--the stem is of a light wood curiously painted with hieroglyphics in various colours, and adorned with the _feathers_ of the _most beautiful_ birds. it is not in my power to convey an idea of the _various tints_ and pleasing ornaments of this much-esteemed indian implement"(p. ). if this is true, if the rainbow is the symbol of peace, and the peacock is the symbol of the rainbow, will it absolutely surprise us to find feathers of various colours presented as tokens of peace? i am prepared for the reply, that bryant's etymology is now considered obsolete; but i shall fall back upon the argument which i have urged elsewhere, that in cases where tradition renders the transmission of certain words probable, there is a presumption which overrides the ordinary canons of philological criticism. philologers very properly lay down, _e.g._ mr max müller's "chapter of accidents in comparative theology," _contemp. rev._, april , p. :-- "comparative philology has taught us again and again that when we find a word exactly the same in greek and sanscrit, we may be certain that it cannot be the same word; and the same applies to comparative mythology ... for the simple reason that sanscrit and greek have deviated from each other, have both followed their own way, have both suffered their own phonetic corruptions, and hence, if they do possess the same word, they can only possess it either in its greek or in its sanscrit disguise." this is of course only upon the assumption that the languages have gone their own way, have followed their own corruptions; but if it can be shown that certain words, &c. &c., were preserved in tradition, and so guarded as not to come under the laws of deviation which philology traces out, or to come under them on different conditions, then, on the contrary, it is exceedingly probable that we should find them identical, or at least recognisable; in any case, this is a point which must be decided according to the evidences of tradition, and not according to the laws of philology. this will be better understood from a case in point. i append the evidence respecting the traditions of the dove and the rainbow--which are just the incidents which are likely to have impressed the imagination and memory of mankind.[ ] [ ] it will hardly be denied that the tradition of the rainbow as a sign and pledge to man existed among the ancients. _vide_ bryant, ii. . [the goddess iris, who was sent with the _messages_ of the gods, bore the same name as the rainbow iris.] _e.g._ homer-- "[greek: irissin eoikotes has te kroniôn en nephehi stêrixe, teras meropôn anthrôpôn].--_il._ xi. . "like to the bow which jove amid the clouds placed _as a token to desponding man_." also--il. xvii. . [greek: hêute porphyreên irin thnêtoisi tanhussê zeus ex ouranothen teras emmenai]. "just as when jove mid the high heavens displays his bow mysterious for a _lasting sign_." and the lines (theog. v. ) in hesiod, in which iris is called the daughter of wonder, who is sent over the broad surface of the sea when strife and discord arose among the immortals, and who is also called "the _great oath_ of the gods"--["this is the token of the _covenant_ between you and me, for _perpetual generations_," gen. ix. .]--who is told to bring from afar in her golden pitcher the many-named water. iris is called the daughter of thaumas (which so closely approximates to the greek [greek: thauma] = wonder, bryant says to the egyptian "thaumus"). bryant further thinks that iris and eros were originally the same term, but that in time the latter was formed into the boyish deity cupid = eros. according to some, iris was the mother of eros by zephyrus. [there were indeed three eroses, which mark three different lines of tradition, _vide_ gladstone on iris (the rainbow), "homer and the homeric age," ii. .] eros (cupid), though a boy, was supposed to have been at the commencement of all things; and lucian says, "how came you with that childish face, when we know you to be as _old as japetus_?" the union of cupid and chaos (the deluge is frequently alluded to as chaos, _vide_ bryant) "gave birth to men and all the animals." hesiod makes eros the first to appear after chaos. "at this season (deluge) another era began; the earth was supposed to be renewed, and time to return to a second infancy. they therefore formed an emblem of a child with a rainbow, to denote this renovation of the world, and called him eros, or divine love," ... "yet esteemed the most ancient among the gods."--bryant, ii. . (cupid is represented with a bow, as is also apollo and diana, which was an allusion to the supposed resemblance of the bow and the rain_bow_.) probably from his connection with iris, he is represented as breaking the thunderbolts of jupiter, and riding on _dolphins_ and subduing other monsters of the sea. smith ("myth. dict.") says iris is derived from [greek: erô eirô], "so that iris would mean the speaker or messenger," ... "but it is not impossible that it may be connected with [greek: eirô], 'i join,' whence [greek: eirênê]; so that iris, the goddess of the rainbow, would be the joiner, or conciliator, or the messenger of heaven, who restores peace in nature," it appears to me more likely that [greek: eirênê] = _peace_ (derivation uncertain--liddell and scott) was derived directly from iris, in accordance with the tradition, and that the greek word for wool, [greek: eiros], was cognate to [greek: eirênê], from being an emblem of peace (_e.g._ the pontiff's caduceator, woollen veil). in the same way, if we do not actually find the rainbow as the token of the herald or caduceator, may we not discover it conversely in the circumstance that _iris_ is represented as carrying in her hand a _herald's_ staff? it is curious that we actually find, what i may call the sister emblem, viz. the dove, used by the ancients, though just as we find, if i am right in the conjecture, the rainbow among the polynesians, used in a perverted way as an ensign of war. it was possibly in superstitious remembrance of the tradition which we find more directly among the ancient aryans and the peruvians (p. - ), that war ought only to be made with a disposition towards peace; and that they thought to place themselves under the sanction of heaven by carrying this emblem as their ensign of war. such, however, was the fact. bryant (ii. ) says:--"the dove became a favourite hieroglyphic among the babylonians and chaldees.... in respect to the babylonians, it seems to have been taken by them for their national ensign, and to have been depicted on their military standard when they went to war. they seem likewise to have been styled iönim, or the children of _the dove_;" and they are thus alluded to by the prophet jeremiah, ch. xxv. ver. (_id._) bryant says (ii. ), "the name of the dove among the ancient amonians (by which term he intends the descendants of chus) was iön and iönah; sometimes expressed iönas, from whence came the [greek: oinas] of the greeks." i should rather put it that we find the word for the dove common to the hebrew and the greek (iönah, hebrew; [greek: oivas], greek), and, as bryant seems to imply, among other nations also--_e.g._ the babylonians--which is precisely what we should have expected. but if this identity is allowed, we must proceed with bryant to see in juno, venus, and diana, simply embodiments of the tradition of the dove. bryant says that "juno is the same as iöna," and although, as we have seen, the peacock is said to be her bird (with reference to the other symbol, the rainbow), and although ovid (bryant, ) sends her to heaven accompanied by iris (rainbow), yet in the plate (from gruter) p. , she will be seen with a dove on her wand, and a pomegranate, as symbol of the ark (_vide_ p. ), in her hand. bryant, moreover ( ), considers juno to be identical with venus. there was a statue in laconia called venus-junonia. of dione and venus bryant says (ii. ):--"i have mentioned that the name diona was properly ad, or ada, iöna. hence came the term idione; which idione was an object of idolatry as early as the days of moses. but there was a similar personage named deione.... this was a compound of de iöne, the dove; and venus dionoea may sometimes have been formed in the same manner.... dionusus was likewise called thyomus." _vide_ also bryant, pp. , . in genesis viii. , the dove returned to the ark, not having found "where her foot might rest." "in the hieroglyphical sculptures and paintings where this history was represented, the dove could not well be depicted otherwise than as hovering over the face of the deep. hence it is that venus or dione is said to have risen from the sea. hence it is, also, that she is said to preside over waters; to appease the troubled ocean; and to cause by her presence an universal calm; that to her were owing [on the retiring of the waters] the fruits of the earth.... she was the oenas ('[greek: oinas]') of the greeks; whence came the venus of the latins." the address of lucretius to this deity concludes with two lines of remarkable significance-- "te dea, te fugiunt venti; te nubila coeli adventumque tuum; tibi rident æquora ponti; _pacatumque_ nitet diffuso lumine _coelum_." "in sicily, upon mount eryx, was a celebrated temple of this goddess, which is taken notice of by cicero and other writers. doves were here held as sacred as they were in palestine or syria [_vide_ also in cashmere, p. ]. it is remarkable that there were two days of the year set apart in this place for festivals, called [greek: anagôgia] and [greek: katagôgia], at which time venus was supposed to _depart over the sea_, and after a season to return. there were _also sacred pigeons_, which then took their flight from the island; but one of them was observed on the ninth day to come back from the sea, and to fly to the shrine of the goddess. this was upon the festival of [greek: anagôgia]. upon this day it is said that there were great rejoicings. on what account can we imagine this veneration for the bird to be kept up, ... but for a memorial of the dove sent out of the ark, and of its return from the deep to noah? the history is recorded upon the ancient coins of eryx; which have on one side the head of _janus_ bifrons, and on the other the sacred dove."--bryant, ii. . mr cox's ("mythology," ii. ch. ii. sec. vii.) counter-explanation, if i rightly gather it, is that "on aphroditê (venus), the child of _the froth or foam of the sea_, was lavished all the wealth of words denoting the loveliness of the morning; and thus the hesiodic poet goes on at once to say that the grass sprung up under her feet as she moved, that eros, love, walked by her side, and himeros, longing, followed after her." "this is but saying, in other words, that the morning, the child of the heavens, springs up _first from_ the sea, as athene is born by the water-side." but why should the morning spring first from the sea?--more particularly when the effects of her rising is noted in the springing up of flowers on the land? if the rainbow, we see the reason in her connection with the deluge, and her connection with the subsequent renovation of nature. mr cox also says (p. ):--"in her brilliant beauty she is argunî, a name which appears again in that of arguna, the companion of krishna and the hellenic argynius." does not this complete the chain of her connection with juno? mr cox (p. ) says:--"the latin venus is, in strictness of speech, a mere name, to which any epithet might be attached according to the conveniences or the needs of the worshipper.... the name itself has been, it would seem, with good reason, connected with the sanscrit root 'van,' to desire love or favour,"--a derivation which equally accords with bryant's view. then there is the striking connection of venus with dionusos (_vide_ p. ). mr cox (p. ) says, "the myth of adonis links the legends of aphrodite (venus) with those _of dionusos_. like the theban _wine_-god adonis, born only on the death of his mother; and the two myths are, in one version, _so far the same_ that _dionysos_, like adonis, is placed _in a chest_, which, being _cast into the sea_, is carried to brasiæ, where the body of his mother is buried." (comp. kabiri, bunsen.) mr cox connects athene with aphrodite (venus) (p. ). therefore we must ask him to reconsider his explanation of "the athenian maidens embroidering the sacred peplos for _the ship_ presented to athêne at the great dionysiac festival." compare evidence, _supra_, in chap. on boulanger, &c.; catlin. the digression we have just made involves some risk of distracting attention from the point it was intended to enforce--viz. the traditionary character of the mode, and, by implication, the traditionary recognition of the obligation, of the declaration of war. we have already seen in ozanam (_supra_, p. ) indications of the probability of similar traditions among the primitive tribes of germany. will it clench the argument if we find romans and gauls on a common understanding in these matters, when brought for the first time into contact since their original separation?-- "the great misfortunes which befel the city from the gauls, are said to have proceeded from the violation of these sacred rites. for when the barbarians were besieging clusium, fabius ambustus was sent ambassador to their camp with proposals of peace, in favour of the besieged. but receiving a harsh answer, he thought himself released from his character of ambassador, and rashly taking up arms for the clusians, challenged the bravest man in the gaulish army. he proved victorious, ... but the gauls having discovered who he was, sent _a herald_ to rome to accuse fabius of bearing arms against them, contrary to _treaties and good faith_, and _without a declaration of war_. upon this the feciales exhorted the senate to deliver him up to the gauls, but he appealed to the people, and, being a favourite with them, was screened from the sentence. soon after this, the gauls marched to rome, and sacked the whole city except the capitol, as we have related at large in the life of camillus."--_plutarch's numa._ i venture further to think that the traditionary modes of the declaration of war may be detected among the gauls in cæsar's time, in the manner of their challenge. _e.g._ it so came about that cæsar wished to draw the enemy (the nervii) to his side of the valley and to engage them at a disadvantage before his camp. to this end he simulated fear. "our men meanwhile retiring from the rampart, they approached still nearer, _cast their darts_ on all sides within the trenches and _sent heralds_ round the camp to proclaim," &c. (duncan's cæsar, b. v. xlii.) we will now turn to the greek tradition. i quote from an old author who has examined the matter more fully than i find it treated elsewhere. rous. ("archæologiæ atticæ," lib. , s. , civ.) says:--"as careful and cunning as they were in warlike affairs, i cannot find but that they did 'propere signi quæ piget inchoare,' bear a great affection to _peace_; as may appear in their honourable receiving of ambassadors, to whom they gave hearing in no worse place than a _temple_.... the usual ensign carried by greek ambassadours was [greek: kêrykeon], _caduceus_,[ ] a right _staff of wood_ with snakes twisted about it and looking one another in the face.... if the peace could not be kept, but they must needs have war, yet they would be sure to give warning and fair play, and make proclamations of their intentions before they marcht. the manner in proclaiming war was to send a fellow of purpose _either to cast a spear_ or let loose _a lamb_ into the borders of the country, or into the city itself whither they were marching (which hesychius rather thinks to have been the signal before a battel), thereby showing them, that what was then a habitation for men, should shortly be a pasture for sheep."[ ] i should rather have thought that it had analogy with the jewish scapegoat; but, whatever the idea, it was apparently symbolled and commemorated in the _woollen_ veil prescribed to the roman pontiff in the declaration of war. it would seem, however, that the signal for battle (chap. v.) was "instead of sounding a trumpet, they had fellows whom they called [greek: pyrphorous], that went before with torches, and throwing them down in the midst between the two armies, gave the sign.... now, this business they might do safely and without any danger, ... for the torch-bearers were peculiarly protected by mars, and accounted sacred."[ ] [ ] _vide ante_, . that the entwined snakes were of late date would appear, i think, from the allusions to the suppliants' wands in Æschylus, _e.g._ (_vide_ plumtre's Æschylus, "libation pourers," v. ) when orestes puts on the suppliants wreaths, and takes the olive branch in his hand-- "the branch of _olive_ from the topmost growth, with amplest tufts of _white wool_ meetly wreathed." and in the supplicants ( )-- "holding in one hand the branches suppliant, wreathed with _white wool_ fillets." [ ] also, "joannis meursii themis athica, sive de legibus alticis," i. xi. says, "postquam vero exercitus eductus esset pugnam inire, non _licebat antiquam_ emissum agmen hostium quis, hunc _expectans accepisset_." [ ] this has something in common with the fiery cross sent round by the highlanders as the summons to war. in another aspect it has resemblances with the indian mode of declaration of war. "the manner in which the indians declare war against each other is by sending a slave with a hatchet, the handle of which is painted _red_, to the nation which they intend to break with; and the messenger, notwithstanding the danger to which he is exposed from the sudden fury of those whom he thus sets at defiance, executes his commission with great fidelity."--_carver's "travels in north america,"_ p. . the sense of national responsibility in war, and the reluctance of kings to involve themselves without the consent of their people would appear from oeschylos' "supplicants" (v. , ). i have referred (p. ) to the peruvian traditions of manco capac's laws of war, and that "in every stage of the war the peruvian was open to propositions for peace." from the hindoo tradition, apparently, manu's code was conceived in an identical spirit. (_vide_ "hist. of india," "the hindu and mahometan periods," by the hon. mountstuart elphinstone; murray, , ch. ii. p. .) "the laws of war (manu's code) are honourable and humane. poisoned arrows and mischievously barbed arrows and fire arrows are all prohibited." [dr hooker, in his "himalayan journal," mentions a similar tradition among the limboos, i think, or lepchas.[ ]] "there are many situations in which it is by no means allowable to destroy the enemy. among those who must always be spared are unarmed or wounded men, and those who have broken their weapons, and one who says, 'i am thy captive.' other prohibitions are still more generous.... the settlement of a conquered country is conducted on equally liberal principles. immediate security is to be assured to all by proclamation. the religion and laws of the country are to be maintained and respected." and i have fancied (_vide_ ) that the recognition at least of such a tradition, if it be only the "homage which vice pays to virtue," is to be read in the devices carried by the babylonians.[ ] [ ] that there may be limitations to the horrors of war, seems to be established by the instance of the prohibition of explosive bullets. i read in the _times_ (march , ):--"the _british medical journal_ declares its opinion that the charges which have been put forward of _explosive bullets_ having been used by the contending armies have been groundless; and is inclined to believe that the _articles of the st petersburg convention_ have been _faithfully adhered to_, notwithstanding the mutual recriminations to the contrary by both french and german governments." [ ] indirect evidence of the importance formerly attached to the declaration of war may, i think, be discovered in the formal addresses and invocations of the gods by the homeric heroes previous to combat, which to us seem so forced and unnatural; and the same sentiment was noticed by the spaniards, when they first came over, among the peruvians, who did not neglect the punctilio of the declaration of war even in their most high-handed aggressions, _e.g_. garcilasso de la vega (hakluyt soc. ed. ii. ) says--"the invaders sent _the usual summons_ that the people might not be able to allege afterwards that they had been taken unawares." there was, moreover, a law at athens which forbade them to declare war until after a deliberation of three days--"bellum vero antequam decerneretur, triduo deliberare lex jubebat" (apsines, marcell. in hermog. ap. j. meursii them. att., l. i. c. xi.); and we have seen that the senate at rome postponed the declaration of war for thirty days. i cannot help thinking, though it is the merest surmise, that it is in the dim recollection of some such tradition that we must account for the meaningless and superstitious delays which we occasionally read of in the warfare of barbarous nations; _e.g_. cæsar (de bello gallico, i. xl. c.) had drawn up his troops and offered the enemy battle, but ariovistus thought proper to sound a retreat. "cæsar inquiring of the prisoners why ariovistus so obstinately refused an engagement, found that it was the custom among the germans for _the women_ to decide by lots and divination when it was proper to decide a battle; and that these had declared the army would not be victorious if they fought _before the new moon_."[ ] [there was also a law at athens that it was not lawful to lead forth an army before the seventh day of the month. "vetitum athenis erat, exercitum educere ante diem septimum."] j. muersii, _id._ [ ] carver ("travels in north america," p. ) says of the indians--"sometimes private chiefs make excursions.... these irregular sallies, however, are not always approved of by the elder chiefs, though they are often obliged to connive at them.... but when war is national, and undertaken by the community, their deliberations are formal and slow. the elders assemble in council, to which all the head warriors and young men are admitted, when they deliver their opinions in solemn speeches; weighing with maturity the nature of the enterprise they are about to engage in, and balancing with great sagacity the advantages or inconveniences that will arise from it. their priests are also consulted on the subject, and even sometimes the advice of the most intelligent of _their women_ is asked. if the determination be for war they prepare for it with much ceremony." i have discussed the ancient mode of declaration of war at some length as an instance of tradition. there are some, i am afraid, to whom the discussion will appear ineffably trifling; and i may even be misconstrued to say that everything would be set right in europe, if only a herald were sent in proper form to declare war. there are men of a certain cast of mind to whom forms are repugnant; there are others to whom they are unintelligible. it has been observed, however, that the rejection of forms is one thing, the neglect of them another. the rejection of forms may be, on some principle, good, though misapplied, often does unconscious homage when it means to spurn, and may be compensated for in other ways. the neglect of them is simply evidence of laxity. cromwell perfectly well knew the divinity which attached to forms when he said, "take away that bauble;" and, on the other hand, no one better than he would have judged the state of an army (not his own) in which he was told that it was the custom of soldiers not to salute their officers. the declaration of war without any solemnity, still more the commencement of hostilities without any declaration at all,[ ] seems to me closely analogous--as a sign of disorganisation--to the absence of any form of salute at a parade. i am far from contending that old forms, when they have become obsolete, can be resuscitated; but i do contend for the resuscitation of ancient maxims and ideas. in any age fully imbued with the responsibility of war, in which it was considered unseemly to declare it until after a three days' deliberation in solemn conclave, and which even then protracted the declaration till the seventh or the thirtieth day, would it have been possible for two great nations to have gone to war because there had been "a breach of etiquette," if indeed there was a breach of etiquette, "at a german watering-place?"[ ] allowing that this was merely the ostensible pretext, and that the real grounds remained behind--if these long deliberations had been necessarily interposed, would there not have been a thousand chances in favour of such a european intervention as saved the peace of europe three years before in the affair of luxembourg? yet, so far as we know at present, the following is the history of the commencement of the most horrible, the most destructive, and the most barbarous war[ ] of modern times. [ ] "in ancient times war was solemnly declared either by certain fixed ceremonies or by the announcement of heralds; and a war commenced without such declaration was regarded as informal and irregular, and contrary to the usages of nations. grotius says that a declaration of war is not necessary by the law of nations--"naturali jure nulla requiritur declaratio," but _that it was required by the law of nations, jure gentium_, by which term, be it remembered, he means the usages of nations. and in this he was right, as until the age in which he lived wars were almost invariably preceded by solemn declarations. the romans, according to albericus gentilis, did not grant a triumph for any war which had been commenced without a formal declaration (de jure belli, c. ii. § i.); but the greeks do not seem to have been at all regular in the observance of the custom (bynkershock, quæs. jur. pub., l. i. c. ii.) during the times of chivalry declarations of war were usually given with great formality, the habits of knighthood being carried into the customs of general warfare, and it being held mean to fall upon an adversary when unprepared to defend himself (ward, introd. ii. - ). with the decline of chivalry this custom fell into disuse. gustavus adolphus invaded germany without any declaration of war (zouch, de judicio inter gentes, p. ii. § x. ); but this appears to have been _an exception_ to the usages of the age, and clarendon speaks of declarations of war as being customary in his time, and blames the war in which the duke of buckingham went to france, as entered into 'without so much as the formality of a declaration from the king, containing the ground and provocation and end of it, according to custom and obligation in the like cases.' formal denunciations of war _by heralds_ were discontinued about the time of grotius; the last instance having been, according to voltaire, when louis xiii. sent a herald to brussels to declare war against spain in ."--_w. oke manning's commentaries on law of nations._ [ ] "looking back on the history of the autumn ... we may yet be impressed by the conviction that, had the union of the _european family of nations_ been strengthened as it might have been before the war broke out, it might never have been begun, or would have long since terminated. the treaty of paris put on record a declaration in favour of arbitration, but it proved to be worthless when sought to be applied."--_times_, feb. , . i shall have a word to say presently on the declaration of the treaty of paris. [ ] it must not be forgotten, however, that it was the revolution in paris which gave this war its abnormal character, and created situations for which the law of nations had no precedents, or precedents only which were of doubtful application. "a private letter from paris relates that the duc de grammont, who has taken to spend his evenings at the jockey club, was lately asked there, 'how he came to blunder into such a fatal war?'[ ] he replied, 'i asked the minister of war, leboeuf, if he was ready, and he answered, "ready! ay, and doubly ready;" _otherwise_,' added the duc, 'i should have taken care not _to have counselled_ a war which there _were twenty modes of averting_.'"--_times_, sept. , .[ ] [ ] compare _infra_, p. . [ ] compare with the following account of the declaration of war by m. f. de champagny, de l'acad. fr., in the _correspondant_, juin :--"a government wrongly inspired proposed to us a war. without asking it why it wished to make it, without asking if it could make it, without reflection, without discussion, without listening to the men of name and experience, who implored of us _at least twenty-four hours for reflection_, we accepted this war, i do not say with enthusiasm, but with frivolous levity, not as crusaders, but as children. it seemed to us sufficient to tipple in the 'cafés,' singing the 'marseillaise,' to intoxicate the soldiers, to throw squibs into what were then called sensational journals, to cry 'à berlin!' in order to go right off to berlin. and when it was discovered that we were not going on at all to berlin, but that berlin was coming to paris, that this enthusiasm of the 'café' did not cause armies to spring into life, what was our resource? always the same: to overthrow a government!" the extent of the disorganisation and the laxity into which we have fallen, appears perhaps as strikingly as in any anything else in the frequency of the complaints of the little regard paid to "parlémentaires" and officers bearing flags of truce. but what startles us more than all is the light manner in which this transgression of the law of nations is referred to even by the parties aggrieved. i will here place two extracts which i have made in juxtaposition:-- carver ("travels in north america," p. ) says, that when a deputation sets out together for their enemy's country with propositions of peace, "they bear before them the pipe of peace, which, i need not inform my readers, is of the same nature _as a flag of truce_ among the europeans, and is treated with the greatest respect and veneration _even by the most barbarous_ nations. _i never heard of an instance_ wherein the _bearers of this sacred_ badge of friendship were ever treated disrespectfully, or its rights violated. the indians believe that the great spirit _never suffers an infraction_ of this kind to go unpunished." count chandordy, in his reply to count bismarck, dated bordeaux, jan. , , says:--"count bismarck reproaches the french armies with having _fired on parlémentaires_." an accusation of this nature had already been brought to the knowledge of the paris government, and we may quote the following words of m. jules favre in his circular of th january--"i have the satisfaction to acquaint your excellency that the governor of paris has hastened to order an inquiry into the facts alleged by count bismarck, and in announcing this to him he has brought _much more numerous facts_ of the same nature to his own cognizance which are imputed to prussian sentinels, but _which he never would have allowed to interrupt ordinary relations_." i do not know whether this contrast between barbarism, such as it existed in the last century, and modern civilisation, will astonish those partisans of success whom in truth nothing in all the multiform atrocities of this dreadful war seems to have astonished or shocked, so that it was at times almost ludicrous to hear these _introuvables_ declare such things as the bombardment of hospitals and churches, as at strasburg and paris, quite right, which even the german commanders, when the matter was brought to their attention, admitted to be wrong. this perhaps is the worst symptom of corruption we have yet seen, and yet there was a time, and that quite recent, when a different sentiment prevailed. i have just referred[ ] to the declaration in the treaty of paris, which thought to inaugurate a new era by bringing all causes of conflict in europe to a settlement of arbitration. but let no one be discouraged or cease to believe in the possibility of such a consummation because of the result. there never was a stronger instance of the intellect of the world vainly striving to create an international code and system for itself which was to be distinct from the law of nations; for at the same moment that the diplomatists who were collected in paris set to work upon their tower, which was to erect itself above the waters of any future inundation, they one and all agreed to demolish, and as a first step to pull down, the cornerstone from the temple of the past. how this was brought about will best be told in an extract from the count de montalembert's "pie ix. et la france en et ," p. :-- "let us go back to the origin of the evil, ... it dates back more especially from the congress of paris in , from that diplomatic reunion which, after having solemnly declared that none of the contracting powers _had the right to interfere either collectively or individually in the relations of a sovereign with his subjects_ (protocol of th march), after having proclaimed the principle of the absolute independence of the sovereigns, for the benefit of the turkish sultan against his christian subjects, thought it within its competency, in its protocol of the th of april, and in the absence of any representative of the august accused, to proclaim that the situation of the pontifical states was 'abnormal' and 'irregular.' this accusation developed and exaggerated at the tribune, and elsewhere by lord palmerston and count cavour, was equally formulated under the presidency and upon the initiative of the minister of foreign affairs in france, and it is consequently france which must bear the principal responsibility before the church and europe. we can recall the grief and surprise which this strange proceeding created in the catholic world." [ ] _vide_ note , p. . thus was the game set rolling; and the policy thus indicated was pursued with the eager and unrelenting pertinacity of some, and with the tacit approval of the rest of the co-signatories. the war declared by france against austria, which was the precipitating cause of the storm which broke upon the papal states, can, it is true, only be regarded as evidence of the conspiracy--inasmuch as it was declared by one of the conspirators at the instigation of another, whose ultimate aim was the seizure of the states of the church and of the other independent italian sovereignties to the profit of piedmont. so soon as the victory of the french arms was decided, the emperor's proclamation from milan appeared, inciting the populations to insurrection. all then followed in sequence--the revolt of the romagnas four days after the milan manifesto, their annexation along with the other independent states of central italy by piedmont, this annexation being effected with the connivance, if not the consent, of france, and for which payment was eventually made in the cession of nice and savoy (all this being in contravention of the treaties of villafranca and zurich). but what mattered the contravention of treaties in comparison with the scenes which followed? the programme of the congress, or, if that is denied, the programme of two (if not three, for it is difficult to acquit lord palmerston and lord john russell of participation by consent) of the powers who had entered into the conspiracy against european order, and these, at that time, the powers in the highest state of military efficiency, was to be carried out _per fas et nefas_. naples and the patrimony of st peter had to be secured, and as they morally presented no vulnerable side, they were seized by the hand of the marauder in defiance of "all law, human and divine."[ ] garibaldi's descent on sicily, effected under the cover of the english navy, was simply a brusque and flagrant act of piracy, for which no plea of justification has ever been set up. the usurpation of the papal states, though not less ruthlessly accomplished in the end, was carried through with more regard to form in its preliminary stages; yet at the last the diplomatic mask was torn off, and the invasion was made without any pretext or justification known to the law of nations, and without even a declaration of war. [ ] these were the words which the marquis of bath had the courage to use in the house of lords when everybody else was joining in a ludicrous "dirge of homage" to cavour. i wish to put this protest, as well as the similar protests of the marquis of normanby and the earl of donoughmore on record, as there may come a time when england will be glad to recur to them. here, again, the imperial diplomacy and italian intrigue went hand in hand. lamoriciere, in reliance upon the honour of france, had made _all his dispositions against garibaldi_, and had received a letter from the french ambassador as late as the th september (bearing the same date as the so-called ultimatum of cavour, although the piedmontese troops had crossed the frontier before it was delivered), which i shall here reproduce, seeing that it is not on record in the _annuaire des deux mondes_ ( )--"i inform you by the emperor's orders that the piedmontese _will not_ enter the roman states, and that , french are about to occupy the different places of those states. make, then, all your dispositions against garibaldi.--le duc de grammont."[ ] (this letter was dated september , , the battle of castelgidardo was fought on the th september .) it is needless to add that no reinforcements from france appeared, and that the assurance served no other purpose than to mislead, and to throw lamoriciere off his guard. indeed, in spite of various protestations and the subsequent withdrawal of the french ambassador from turin, the catholic world settled down into the belief, not only that the emperor of the french had never had the intention of sending troops to the rescue, but that the whole scheme of the invasion had been deliberately devised at the ominous interview which took place on the th of august previous, between the emperor, farini, and general cialdini. it was even said that the words used by the emperor on the occasion transpired, "frappez fort et frappez vite,"--a terse and striking phrase, which will fitly perpetuate in the human memory the most flagrant violation of the law of nations which history affords.[ ] [ ] _vide_ "current events," in _rambler_, . [ ] "does the faith of treaties, the right of treaties, still exist? look at what has happened in europe during the last twenty years. the treaties made with the church were the first violated; they have declared that a 'concordat' is nothing more than a law of the state, which the state can alter at will--in other words, that, unlike all other contracts, conventions of this nature, inviolable for one of the parties, can be broken by the other at its pleasure; kings have thus put the church outside the law of nations. but, in consequence, they have excluded themselves. when the most sacred of all treaties were thus trampled upon, how would they have the others respected? they have even written, or caused to be written, on a solemn occasion ('napoleon iii. et l'italie, ') that treaties no longer bind when the general sentiment declares against them; in other terms, when they displease us. at this epoch, in , we were disputing with austria a possession which all treaties had guaranteed to her, and the neutral signatories of these treaties did not protest. victorious over austria, we have in our turn made a treaty with her; and this treaty was violated when scarcely signed; and neither we nor the rest of europe protested. later on, the dissensions between germany and denmark ended in a treaty, which the rest of europe guaranteed; but soon germany broke this treaty by force of arms, and europe did not say a word. i omit here the convention of september, ... the treaty of . on all these occasions the indifference of third parties has come to the aid of the cupidity of the aggressors; and the moral sense has been so far wanting in the cabinets that they have assisted and applauded acts of brigandage for the love of the art, and without even thinking that the brigand, when he grew strong, would fall on the morrow on themselves. will you find in european history twelve years so fruitful in pledges and perjuries?" all this was done with the undisguised satisfaction of several veteran english statesmen, who were, moreover, directly or indirectly represented at the same congress which sought to bind the european powers to call in the arbitration of a friendly power, in case of disagreement, before making an appeal to arms. now there is no reason why this rule, good in itself, and congruous to the spirit and maxims of the law of nations, should not have been embodied as a fundamental article in the code; for the law of nations is not a dead-letter, but, like everything that is of tradition, easily lending itself to adaptation and development according to the changing circumstances of the world. can we be surprised that this principle, good and according to reason, but which nevertheless presupposes certain sentiments in the world in correspondence with it, should in the actual circumstances have been barren of results? is it wonderful that it should have miscarried in the hands of men who were parties to the invasion, without even the form of a declaration of war, of the state predestined by divine providence to be the cornerstone of christendom? would it have been befitting that this beneficent arrangement should have been destined to be the work of men who, either by participation or as accessories after the fact, had set their hands to a deed which shocked every principle of morality, and made the very notion of public law in europe ridiculous? the early commencements of this policy cannot be studied at a more appropriate moment than now, when we are witnessing its _denouement_. what has been the result to france of its italian policy? to austria? to england? to europe? has any power prospered that had a hand in setting the ball rolling, or, for that matter, any power that had the responsibility of staying the parricidal hand, and held back? if austria, the first victim, had firmly and strenuously resisted the early instigations of evil, would she ever, according to human calculations, have had to fight at magenta and solferino? and, in another way, was there not something dramatic in the sudden reverse and displacement of count buol, who had been the austrian representative at the congress, immediately after he had hurled the fatal _ultimatum_? the retort will be triumphant. did not france, the great culprit of all, who both cast its own responsibility to the winds and sowed the hurricane, conquer at solferino? truly she did; but _respice finem_, or rather, we may say, we have lived to see the end. did not solferino, after some ten years of delusive prosperity, lead up to sedan? of england i do not wish to say more than that since that date she has unaccountably fallen in the esteem of men; has, in her turn, met with injustice, and no longer maintains the same relative position which she held during the fifty years preceding the congress. everything, in fine, since that date, seems to have gone in favour of that european power which remained in the background, and which, if it did no good act at the congress, at least had the worldly wisdom to fold its arms and refrain from sacrilege. yes, prussia has had her victory; but by all accounts there never was a victory which has made a nation so sad and mournful, and which was greeted with fewer manifestations of joy. it was peace rather than victory which was welcomed home. here, too, we seem to see the subtle and nicely-measured retaliation. again, was there no significance in the unlooked-for disasters at forbach and woerth, occurring coincidently with the final abandonment of rome by france? these are things which strike the eye, but which are difficult of demonstration, and it would appear a hopeless errand to convince a generation which has witnessed the burning of paris, if not without emotion, at any rate without serious reflection, and, in spite of manifest prediction, has refused to see in it "the finger of retribution and the hand of god." and yet belief in this retribution of heaven is at the foundation of the law of nations. previously to the astounding experiences of the recent war, during those years so fruitful "in pledges and perjuries," it was a common phrase, and most frequently used with reference to france, that war was no longer an affair of divine providence, but that providence was always on the side of the big battalions. with one word as to the significance of this phrase, which is tantamount to a negation of the law of nations, i shall conclude. it may certainly happen, that in a contest one party may be consciously hypocrite, whilst the other is conscious of its rectitude; but presumedly, and until the contrary is manifested, both parties must be supposed to believe themselves in the right, and to run the tilt like knights in the mediæval tournament. nevertheless, as dr johnson said, there are arguments for a "plenum" and for a "vacuum," but one conclusion only can be true; and in some way in every conflict, which is true and which is just is known only to the inscrutable judgment of the most high. we do not know all the secrets of courts, neither could we exactly determine the point if we had before us all the deliberations of councils, it is sufficient for us to know that victory is not always on the side of the big battalions, as witness, _inter alia_, marathon, morgarten, bannockburn, lepanto, mentana. will any englishman maintain the proposition that victory is always on the side of the big battalions? then, beginning with cressy and poictiers, and following marlborough through the fields of blenheim, ramilies, and malplaquet, and the duke of wellington through the peninsular war, we must renounce that which gives "the _éclat_ to all our victories." doubtless, then, the quality of troops will in some instances weigh far more than numbers. you allow it? we now introduce an element of great uncertainty, and about which there will always be much dispute, and moreover it will always be a matter concerning which religion and morality will have much to say. it is no longer an affair of big battalions, it is no longer reduced to a matter of calculation, on which side the victory is to be. let me further remark, that whilst there is one set of writers who will be ready to say that providence is on the side of the big battalions, there is another set of writers, and these the men who are more conversant with the details, who will with great acuteness undertake to prove to you that it is so much an affair of providence that in each case the victory was scarcely a victory, and only such because some casualty on the other side intervened to convert what would otherwise have been a victory into a defeat. it is unfortunately true that this latter class of historians and strategists do not, as a rule, trace in the turn of events the retribution of providence. still, the presumption will always be that victory favours the righteous cause, although it may be only _pro hac vice_, and ultimate success may not crown the career of the victorious nation, because its virtues may not have merited more than a signal and single success;--or it may even be that its merits may be of a kind such as to gain it a reward which transcends the rewards of earthly victory; or, again, the career of victory must be explained and measured by the depths of the final catastrophe and discomfiture. in any case, it is a great thing for a nation to have won a victory in a rightful cause. the reward of virtue remains and gladdens the heart in the day of disaster and distress. whatever may chance to us, there will always lie in store for us the consolation of reading the history of the battle of waterloo; not, let us say, as the victory of one nation over another nation, but as the great and final triumph of a righteous over an unrighteous cause, gained by england. it is, thank god! impossible alike for the conqueror and the revolutionary multitude to destroy the past. index. aboriginal races, their mysterious origin, . acton, lord, . adam, supposed identity with prometheus and hercules, , ; with fohi, , ; meaning of the word, ; correspondence of, with chaldæan god, ana, . adams, mr arthur, . adaptability of law of nations, . adonis and venus, myths of, , . adrastus, the legend of, . Æneid, the, of virgil quoted, . Æschylus, the "supplicants" of, quoted, . africa, commemorative ceremonies of deluge, , ; captain burton's account of, ; compared with catlin's narrative, - . _see also_ deluge, commemorative festivals. africanus, . age of bronze, the, , ; commencement of, . age, the golden, ; theory of and commencement, ; tradition of, . age, the iron, . agnatic relationship, , , . algonquins, the, . allies, mr, on divergence between religion and philosophy, . america, the mozca indians of, ; diluvian traditions in, ; the "o-kee-pa" of the mandans, , ; catlin's account of ceremonies, - ; the peruvian deity, ; peruvian worship, . _see also_ deluge, commemorative festivals. america, the discovery of, a proof of tradition, . american continent, source of peoples of, - . american indians, the legend of michabo among the, , ; tradition of fire among, . amida or adima, the japanese god, . amphictyonic council and league, - . ana, a chaldæan god, ; traditional identity of with adam, ; a reduplication of enu or enoch, . ancestors, worship of, , . ancient society, the unit of, . andamans, the, , . andriossy's hypothesis regarding overflow of the nile, . anthisteries, the, . antiquity of man, . apollo, . apotheosis of nimrod, . arab and iroquois, exceptional instances of human progress, . arba-lisun, the, or four tongues, . arbitration instead of war, . areopagus, a cosmopolitic, . argos, feast of the deluge at, . argyll, duke of, on tradition, , ; on capability of savage races, . arrival and conflict of different races in india, - . aryan nations in india, their struggle with the santals, ; their dialect, ; mr tylor on, ; one of the primitive races, ; probable identity with japhetic race, ; their colour, ; their mythology, . ash, the, tradition regarding, , . assemblies of greece, the, . assyrian history, corroboration of, . assyrian mythology, ; deities of, ; il or ra, ; l'abbe gainet on, ; ana, ; bil or enu, ; hea or hoa, ; nebo, . asteropoeus, . astral religion, . astronomical cycle of china, . athens, the hydrophoria at, . atlantis, the, of plato an embodiment of tradition, . autochthones, or earth-born, . avocations of primitive life--hunter, husbandman, and shepherd, . babylonian chronology, , ; hales on, . bacchus, connection of, with saturnalia, ; reduplications of, , . baldr, the legend of, localised and individualised, ; in the scandinavian edda, ; paralleled with an account of the fall, . ballad, welsh, quoted, . basis of international law, . basis of theory of golden age, . baskets of water, the, parallel accounts of by burton and catlin, . bastian, m.a., on human progress, . bath, the marquis of, . bel nipru or nimrod, . belligerent rights, , . belus, the god, ; identity of with nimrod, . bentham, on international law, , ; his peculiar crotchet, "utility," ; on public opinion, ; the "greatest happiness" principle, ; criticism on blackstone's views of primitive life, . benthamism tested by darwinism, . berosus' account of hoa, . bertrand, m., legend concerning the man-bull, . "bhilsa tope," the, . bifrons, a name applied to several gods, . big battalions, , . big canoe, the, parallel accounts of, by burton and catlin, ; correspondence of to the canopied boat of egyptians, . bil or enu, a chaldæan deity, . blackness of complexion, the result of the curse of canaan, ; associated with evil, ; traditions regarding, , ; a mark of inferiority, ; how used by satirists, ; operation as a curse, , . blackstone on primitive life and a state of nature, . boat, philology of the word, . bochica, . bolabola, declaration of war at, , . bonzies, the, . book of genesis, the, . book of sothis, . bougainville on divinities of the tahitians, . boulanger, m., quoted, ; on diluvian tradition, , , , ; on the golden age, , . brace, mr, his "ethnology," quoted, , , . "breach of etiquette," a, consequences of, ; the ostensible pretext of franco-german war, . brigham young and the mormons, . _british medical journal_ on explosive bullets, . bronze age, the, , , ; its commencement, . bryant, mr j., xi.; on creation of man, , ; on the symbol of the bull, ; on dionusus, ; on noah and janus, ; his derivation of juno and venus, ; on the dove, . buddhist legend, . buffaloes, feast of the, . "bull-dance," the, ; parallel accounts of, by burton and catlin, . bunsen, baron, ; on chinese and egyptian chronology, - , ; on egyptian chronicles, - ; on tradition of creation, ; on the kabiri, ; on arya, . burial customs among mandans and formosans, . burial, mode of, common to several savage nations, . burton, capt. richard, on fetish, ; on dahome customs, ; the bull-dance, ; the big canoe, ; the baskets of water, ; the gourds or calabashes, ; the "aged white man," , ; customs at whydat, . burton, j. hill, . cadmus and alphabetic writing, . caduceatores, the, . cain, tradition in tonga connected with, . calmet on "sem," or shem, ; on saturn, . canaan. _see_ chanaan. canada, col. macdonell's service in, xxiii., xxiv. canaanite race, the correspondence between and aboriginal tribes in india, , ; literal fulfilment of prophecy regarding, , , , . canopied boat, the, of the egyptians, . carver, mr, on indian wars, ; the indian mode of declaration of war, , ; indian flags of truce, . cashmir, tradition of deluge in, ; commemorative festival in, . catholicism and christianity, identity of, . catlin, mr g., on traditions of creation among the indians, , ; of deluge, ; the "o-kee-pa," ; the big canoe, ; the baskets of water, ; the gourds or calabashes used by the indians, ; the "first man," , ; the "evil spirit," ; water ceremonies, ; on the pheasant, ; description of a "whale ashore" at vancouver's island, ; on the cranial development of the flathead and crow indians, . caverley's theocritus quoted, . centre of tradition, the, . ceremony at gorbio, . chaldæa, early inhabitants of, . chaldæan pantheon, deities of the, . chaldæan system of chronology, ; religion, . champagny, m. f. de, , . chanaan, or canaan, the curse of, ; tradition of this curse among the sioux indians, ; in tonga, . chandordy, count, . chaos in the phoenician cosmogony, ; the commencement of all things, - . chateaugay, xxviii. china, certain and uncertain history of, , ; astronomical cycle of, ; aboriginal tribes, ; belief in, as to creation of man, . chinese chronology, - ; confusion in, . chinese tradition of first and second heaven, . chin-nong, . chippeways and natchez tribes, institution of perpetual fire among, . choctaw indians, tradition regarding creation of man, . christian doctrine, the foundation of, . chronicles of egypt, . chronology, egyptian, palmer on, - ; the sothic cycle, - ; various systems of, . chronology, from the point of view of science, ; bunsen's views, ; lyell's, ; sir john lubbock's, - ; hales on, . chronology, from the point of view of tradition, ; historical testimony and evidence in favour of scriptural, ; indian, ; babylonian, ; hales, rev. w., on, ; chinese, - . chronos, saturn as, . cicero, on international law, ; "de legibus" quoted, ; the "offices," . civilisation, a state of, the primitive condition of man, . civilisation, principles and teaching of, . civilisation, progress of man to, , . cognation and agnation among the romans, , . coincidences of the bible with sanchoniathon, . coleridge, h. n., on oral transmission of tradition, . coleridge, rev. henry j., ; on conflicting elements of heathenism, . college, the fecial, . colour in man, persistency of, . coloured cloth and feathers, emblematic of peace and war, - , . commemorative festivals. _see_ festivals, commemorative. comity of nations, restriction of the . communal marriage, , . commune, the, . communistic schemes, . comte and the comtists, . conflicting elements of heathenism, . confusion of tongues, hesiod on the, . confusion of tradition of enoch with xisuthrus and noah, . conscience, mr darwin on, , ; its subjective existence, ; outward expression, . constituent assembly, the, of , montalembert on, . cook, capt., on customs at huaheine, , ; quoted, ; on declaration of war at bolabola, , . copan, the peaceable people of, . cosmogony, roman ideas of the, . cosmopolitic areopagus, a, . cox, rev. g. w., xiv.; on mythology, , , ; on myths of venus and adonis, , . cranial development of flathead and crow indians, . creation of man, tradition of among red indians, ; max müller on, . creation, the, mexican tradition of, , ; slavonian account of, . creoles, the persistency of colour in, . cunningham, major, the "bhilsa tope," . curse of canaan, the, ; traditions of, - , . customs of the samoides, ; at huaheine, . cycle, astronomical, of china, ; the sothic, , - . dagon, the god of the philistines, ; the fish-man, ; mr layard on, . dahome, the "so-sin" customs of, , , - ; precedence of women in, . dancing an indian ceremonial, , . d'anselme, vicomte, on philology of noah and boat, . darkness, associated with the serpent, ; the parent of light, - . darwinism, benthamism tested by, . darwin on conscience, , ; and the utilitarians, - . davies, rev. e., xi., . day and night, used as symbols, . declaration of war, the, ; accompanied by religious formalities, , ; method of, at bolabola, , ; at st julian, ; symbols used at, - ; plutarch on, ; traditionary modes of, - ; importance attached to forms of, ; consequences of the violation of forms of, - . deities of the chaldæan pantheon, . "de legibus" quoted, , . de quincey, quoted, . deluge of deucalion, the, , , . deluge of ogyges, the, ; anterior to that of deucalion, ; its date, . deluge, the--traditions of, localised in china, - ; commemorative monument of, ; traditions of, in egypt, ; in cashmir, ; among sioux indians, ; among tartar tribes, ; l'abbé gainet on, ; phrygian legend of, ; phoenician legend of, localised, ; santal legend of, ; etruscan monument commemorative of, ; connection of saturn with, - ; of ogyges and deucalion, ; traditions of, among indian tribes, ; sanscrit story of, ; its date, ; traditions of, among greeks, - ; frederick schlegel on, , ; traditions of, in africa and america, ; boulanger on, , ; commemorative festivals of, - , - , - ; the dove and rainbow of, , . _see also_ noah. "democracy in america," tocqueville's, . demonolatry, . "de rerum natura" quoted, . deucalion, ; mr grote on traditions of, , ; max müller on legend of, ; mr kenrick on, - , ; connected with hydrophoria at athens, . devil, the, belief in among savages . devil-worship, . diana, the temple of, . diffusion of hamitic races, . dike and dikaspoloi, . diluvian tradition. _see_ noah, deluge. diluvian traditions in africa and america, - . _see_ deluge. festivals (commemorative). diogenes laertius' scheme of chronology, . dionusus, identified with noah, ; the first king of india, , . dionysia, . discovery of america, the, a proof of tradition, . dispersion, the, , ; rise of government under, . disraeli, mr, on sceptical effects of discoveries of science, xvi., xvii. distribution of races, . divergence between religion and philosophy, . divinities of the tahitians, . divinity attaching to forms, , . dixon, hepworth, his conversation with brigham young, ; his views of human progress, . donoughmore, earl of, . dove, the bird of venus, ; traditions of, - . duc de grammont, the, . dyaks and javanese, contrast in colour, . dyans, . dyer, dr, on the sabines, ; the temple of diana, . dynasties of egypt, , , , . dynasty of the popes, , . eastern islanders, tradition among the, . egg, the mundane, tradition of, ; an emblem of the creation, ; the mahabarata account of, . egypt, chronology of, ; its chronicles, ; dynasties of, ; commemorative festival of the deluge in, . egyptian chronology, palmer on, - . egyptians, the, canopied boat of, ; jewish rites and ceremonies borrowed from, . ellis's "polynesian researches" quoted, ; on tahitian relics, . endogamy, - , . english socialists, . enoch, result of his disappearance regarding nimrod, ; embodied traditionally in chaldæan gods ana and enu, . enu or bil, a chaldæan deity, ; a reduplication of enoch, . _epi_metheus (afterthought) and _pro_metheus (forethought), . epochs of prehistoric archæology, , . equality of the sexes, . eratosthenes, ; scheme of chronology of, . eros and iris, . eschylus, the "supplicants" quoted, . esquimaux, the, . ethnological difficulties, - . etruscan monument commemorative of the deluge, . etymologies--of _man_, , , ; _noah_, ; _boat_, ; _river_, ; _horse_, , ; _plough_, ; names of metals, ; _fire_, ; _plough_, . euridike and orpheus, . european league, a general, , . european radicalism, . eusebius' testimony to value of tradition, . evil associated with blackness, . evil spirit, the, in mandan ceremonies, . "excursion," the, of wordsworth quoted, . exogamy, - . falconer's "palæontological mem.," . fall, the, lenormant on, . family, the, ; tendency to dispersion of, ; gradual consolidation and expansion into tribes and then to states, , ; the unit of ancient society, . family tradition, confusion of, . fatimala, the, . feast of the buffaloes, the, . feathers, coloured, emblematic of peace and war, - . fecial college, the, ; correspondence of, with herald's college, . federal union between romans and latins, . feegees, the, religion among, ; their characteristics and civilisation, . fergusson, adam, on the six nations, . festivals, commemorative, of the deluge, ; in cashmir, ; among various nations, ; the hydrophoria at athens, ; the "o-kee-pa," ; the panathenæa, ; the dionysia, ; in egypt, ; among the mandan indians, ; the "so-sin" customs of dahome, , ; at sanchi, ; the "bull-dance," ; the "big canoe," ; the baskets of water, ; the gourds and calabashes, ; the "first man," , ; among the santals, ; among the japanese, , ; at huaheine, ; among the egyptians, ; among the patagonians, - ; pongol festival of southern india compared with mandan and dahoman ceremonies, - . _see_ deluge. fetish, . feuds and wars, origin of, - . fire, unknown to various ancient nations, , ; knowledge of among savages, - ; polynesian etymology of the word, . "first man," the, in mandan ceremonies, , , . fish-god, the, of berosus, . "fish, history of the," . flag, the white, a symbol of peace, . flags of truce, carver and count chandordy parallelised, . flathead and crow indians, the heads of, . flint, use of, among ancient nations, . fohi the great, ; identified with adam, , . formation of states, , . formosans, burial customs among the, . foundation of law of nations, . foundation of christian doctrine, the, . foundation of roman law, - . four races, the, or kiprat-arbat, . france against austria, consequences of the war of, - . franco-german war, the, its ostensible pretext, ; its abnormal character, ; origin of traced to congress of , . fresquet, de, on declaration of war, , . fuegians, religion among the, , ; the lowest race of savages, . fulfilment of prophecy regarding chanaan, , . gainet, l'abbé, on diluvian tradition, ; on mythology, ; on chaldæan monotheism, ; translation of the "history of the fish," ; on deucalion, ; on mandan traditions, . genesis, the book of, ; relation of traditions to, , , . geological speculations, . "gesta romanorum," tale from the, . gibbon, on the use of letters, ; his "decline and fall," quoted, , . gladstone, w. e., his "juventus mundi," ; on the mythology of homer, ; on tradition, , ; on impersonation of good and evil, ; the key to the homeric system, ; the progress of greek morality, ; the homeric age, . gnostic sect, a curious, . goguet, m., on origin of laws, ; human progress, ; kinship, ; janus, . golden age, the, and noah, ; basis of the theory, ; its commencement, ; under saturn, ; tradition of, ; boulanger on, , ; sir henry maine on, . gorbio, curious ceremony at, . gould, mr baring, xvi.; on "origin and development of religious belief," ; summary of his views, ; his views opposed to tradition, ; partial recognition of the value of revelation, ; on monotheism, ; on the samoyed superstitions, . gourds and calabashes, the, used in dahoman and mandan festivals, . govat, charles e., his description of the pongol festivals, - . governments, rise of, after dispersion, . gradual progress of religion among primitive peoples, , , , . great hare or rabbit, tradition of the, , . greatest happiness principle, the, , . grecian mythology, - . grecian traditions of the deluge, - . greek and latin leagues, . greenwood's, col. g., "rain and rivers," quoted, , . grote, mr, , ; on importance of myths, ; on deucalion, . grotesque belief of the hindoos as to support of the earth, . guanches, religion of the, . guinea, religious festival in, . guinnard, m., his narrative of patagonian ceremonies, - . hales, rev. w., on chronology, , , . ham, identified with hoang-ti, ; prosperity of, ; tradition of his blackness of complexion, ; sir j. g. wilkinson on, ; bacchus identified with, . hamitic races, diffusion of the, ; apostasy of, . hea or hoa, a chaldæan deity, ; the inventor of cuneiform writing, . heathenism, conflicting elements of, . heavens, first and second, chinese tradition of, . helps, mr, on worship of peruvians, ; his traditions of peru compared with classical and oriental traditions, - . hercules or herakles, supposed identity with adam, ; confusion of traditions regarding, , . herodotus quoted, , . hero-worship an early form of idolatry, , ; among the chaldæans a source of deification, , , . hesiod and the iron age, ; on the confusion of tongues, . hetairism, . heterogeneity, . hieroglyphic of the dove, . hindoo laws of war, . hindoos, curious belief as to the world's support, . "historicus" (in _times_) on international law, . "history of the fish," . history of western civilisation, dr newman on, - . hoa or hea, . hoa, account of, by berosus, . hoang-ti, , ; identified with shem or ham, ; with noah, . _home and foreign review_ on belligerent rights at sea, , . homeric age, the, . homer's iliad quoted, . hooker, dr, on the beliefs of the lepchas, ; on the khasias, ; on the conduct of war, . horrors of war, limitations to, . horse, etymology of the word, , . houacouvou, director of evil spirits, patagonian festival in honour of, . huaheine, customs at, . human race, tradition of the, - . human society founded upon a contract, . hunter, mr, on indian traditions, ; on primitive life in india, , ; on aryan colour, ; on santal customs, , . husenbeth, very rev. dr, xv. huxley's definition of positivism, . hydrophoria, the, at athens, . hyksos or shepherds, dynasty of, . identification of noah with saturn, . identity of christianity and catholicism, . il or ra, the chaldæan deity, ; account of, by rawlinson, . iliad, the, quoted, . _illustrated london news_ on japanese religious festivals, ; on ceremony at gorbio, . impersonation of good and evil, mr gladstone on, . indian ceremonials, washington irving on, . indian chronology, . indian mode of declaration of war, , . indian tribes, close resemblance of one to another, . indian wars, their causes, , . indians, red, tradition regarding creation of man, ; of the earth, by michabo, , ; ordeals and tortures, . indians, traditions among mozca, . indo-germanic races identified with descendants of japheth, . influence of stoics on roman law, . inheritance through females, . interfusion of ancestral and solar worship, . international law, the _tablet_ on, ; bentham on, , , ; its origin and growth, ; an unwritten law, ; de tocqueville on, ; _pall mall gazette_ on, , ; cicero on, ; an "organised constraint," ; analogy with law of honour, ; original idea at its basis, ; relation to utilitarianism, , ; the _jus feciale_, ; "historicus" on, . international society, the, . invention of writing, . inventiveness of savage races, sir j. lubbock on, . ionian federation, the, . iris and eros, . iron age, the, . iroquois, traditions regarding creation of man, . irving, washington, on indian ceremonials, . jacob, . james, w., xxiii. janus, ; derivation of january, ; a double-headed god, , ; identified with noah, . japan, commemorative festival of the deluge in, , . japanese legend of the bull and the egg, . japetus, identity of with japheth, . japheth, fulfilment of prophecy regarding the race of, ; their prosperity, ; identity with indo-germanic races, . javan, son of japheth, identified with yavana, . javanese and dyaks, contrast in colour, . jenkins, captain, xxvii. jewish monotheism, . jewish rites and ceremonies borrowed from egyptians, - . juno and venus, derivation of names of, . _jus feciale_, the, . _jus gentium_, the, , , . kabiri, the, ; bunsen on, . kant's scheme of a universal society, . kenrick, mr, on manu, ; the tradition of deucalion, - . khasias, the, superstitions of the, . king, captain, quoted, ; on sandwich islanders, . kinship through females, , , ; goguet on, . kiprat-arbat, the, or four races, . klaproth, on sanscrit history, ; on the curse of canaan, . kronos, or noah, . lacordaire, l'abbé, ; on tradition, - . laertius', diogenes, scheme of chronology, . lamech, the story of, embodied in various traditions, , . lapland tradition, a, . "last rambles," the, of catlin, quoted, . latin league, the, . law connected with religion, . law, international. _see_ international law. law of honour, the, . law of nations, the, an unwritten law, ; sir henry maine on the, ; common to all nations, ; testimony to in the manx thing, ; ancient codes of, ; the _jus gentium_, ; origin of the phrase, , ; the amphictyonic council, ; primary objects of, ; common source, ; discussed on the basis of usage, ; the _lex legum_ of mankind, ; a modern transgression of, ; the seizure of papal states a flagrant violation of, - ; adaptability of, ; foundation of, . _see_ international law. law of nature, the, ; question whether there is or is not a, ; different solutions of this question, ; sir g. c. lewis on, ; sir h. maine on, , ; what the roman meant by it, ; among the ancients, ; a social compact, , ; tradition of, ; origin of the phrase, , . law, unwritten, ; ozanam on, , . laws, the first, of all nations, . layard, mr, on the man-fish, . league of the ten kings, . legend of the tortoise, , ; of michabo, , ; of the bull and the egg, . legends of oedipus and perseus, . legists of different nationalities, their agreement accounted for, . lenormant, on noe, ; on the fall, . lepchas, the, curious legend of, ; religion among the, , . letters, the use of, a distinction between a civilised and savage people, . levitical worship, the ceremonial borrowed from egypt, , . lewis, sir g. c, on law of nature, , , . light and darkness, as symbols, . limitations to horrors of war, . local tradition, persistency of, . lower egypt, dynasties of, . lowest races of savages, the, . lubbock, sir john, on primitive marriage, ; on the antiquity of man, ; on _water_-worship, ; on tradition, ; his theory opposed to that of de maistre, ; division of pre-historic archæology, , ; untrustworthiness of tradition for evidence of history, ; on religion among savage races, , , ; his suppositions regarding inventiveness of savage races, - ; views supported by duke of argyll, ; description of a "whale ashore" in australia, ; on the knowledge of fire, - . lucas, mr edward, xv. lucretius' "de rerum natura" quoted, . lyell, sir c., xiii.; on human progress, , . macaulay, lord, on benthamism, , ; the dynasty of the popes, , . macdonell, col. george, xii.; memoir of, xix.; parentage, xx.; an admirer of the stuarts, xxi.; results of a letter to the war secretary, xxii.; raises a regiment of macdonells, xxiii.; service in canada, xxiv.; the taking of ogdensburg, xxv.-xxix. m'lennan, mr, on primitive marriage, ; on marriage customs, , . macrobius, on janus bifrons, . maine, sir henry, xv.; on the law of nature, , ; on the law of nations, ; the unit of ancient society, ; notions of primitive antiquity, ; on ancient codes, ; the _jus gentium_, ; origin of name of law of nations, of nature, &c., , ; the foundation of roman law, , ; his distinction between _jus gentium_ and _jus feciale_, . maistre, count joseph de, his theory regarding the early races of man, ; his view of tradition, - ; on the pontifical power, . malays, traditions among the, . malthus, mr, theories regarding over-population, . "man," max müller on derivation of the word, ; its etymology, , . man and the monkey, traditions connecting the, . man-bull, the, traditions of, . manco-capac, ; the lawgiver of peru, ; identity of with quetzalcohuatl, . mandan indians, traditions among the, , ; tradition of the deluge, ; commemorative festivals among, , - ; the evil spirit of, ; source and origin of, - ; mode of burial of, ; art of fortifying their towns, . manetho, ; system of chronology of, , . man-fish, mr layard on the, . manning, dr. _see_ westminster. manning, w. oke, , . man's progress, from a savage to a civilised state, ; exceptional cases of the arab and iroquois, ; lyell's views of, ; lubbock's views, , ; bastian's views, . manx thing, the, . maritime alps, local ceremony in the, . marriage, primitive, , ; customs, ; communal, , . maupertuis', m., account of a lapland tradition, . meaco, ceremony in the temple of, at japan, . meaning of the word adam, . melia, very rev. dr p., xv. memoir of colonel macdonell, xix-xxix. memphis, . menes, the first king of egypt, ; early legend regarding, ; the first who put laws in writing, . menu, ordinances of, , . metallic weapons of ancient races, , . metallurgy of the ancients, mr vaux on the, . mexico, the states of, . mexicans, traditions among the, regarding creation of man, ; of the earth, . michabo, the legend of, among the american indians, , . mill, mr j. s., quoted, ; on the status of women, . mistletoe, the legend of the, , . mivart, mr st george, xv. modes of settlement into communities, . monkey and man, traditions connecting the, . monogamy, . monotheism, jewish, ; semitic, ; chaldæan, . mosaic law, origin of, . montagu, lord robert, m.p., xvi. montalembert, de la, , ; on results of congress of paris, in , . montesquieu, , . montfauçon on bacchus, ; the declaration of war, . mormons, the, . mosaic authorship of pentateuch, evidence of, . mozca indians, the, ; tradition of bochica among, . müller, mr max, on aryan dialects, ; on comparative philology, ; on derivation of the word _man_, , ; nature-worship, ; mythology, , - ; on legend of deucalion, ; "comparative philology" quoted, . mundane egg, the, , . myrmidon, . mysterious origin of aboriginal races, . mythological tradition among the eastern islanders, . mythology, ; source and origin of, - ; solar, ; rev. g. w. cox on, ; max müller on, - ; complications and confusion in, - ; assyrian, _see_ assyrian mythology. myths connecting man with the monkey, . myths, their importance, . natchez tribes, institution of perpetual fire among, . nations, law of. _see_ international law, law of nations. natural right, . nature, law of. _see_ law of nature. nature-worship, , , . nazarians, the, a curious gnostic sect, . nebo, a chaldæan deity, ; resemblance of, to shem, . necessities of the pastoral life, . negro, the, persistency of colour in, ; subserviency of, . _ner_, _soss_, and _sar_, chaldæan periods of time, . nergal identified with mars, . newman, dr, , ; on history of western civilisation, - . new zealanders, curious tradition among, ; their degeneration and retrogression, , . nicolas, mon. a., . niebühr, quoted, . nillson, professor, on the stone age, , ; quoted, . nimrod, a powerful chieftain, ; in the chaldæan mythology, ; identity with belus, ; his apotheosis confounded with enoch's disappearance, . nin or ninip, the true fish-god, ; identification with noah, ; emblem of, in assyria, ; note of rawlinson on, . noah (or noe), identified with shin-nong, , ; with oannes, ; confusion of traditions regarding, ; traditions of, among the chaldæans, ; philology of the name, ; warlike epithets applied to, ; correspondence of nin to, ; nebo a counterpart of, ; identifications of (with xisuthrus) , (with saturn) - , (with bacchus) , (with janus) , , (with ogyges and deucalion) ; the depositary of tradition and channel of law, ; summary of evidence regarding traditional identifications, - ; and the golden age, ; proofs of identity with saturn, ; associations of dove and rainbow with, , . _see_ also deluge, festivals, commemorative. nomadic life, . normandy, the marquis of, . notions of primitive antiquity, . "num," the deity of samoides, . oannes, the mysterious fish, ; the god of science and knowledge, . oceanus, saturn identified as, . oedipus, legend of, ; identified with lamech, ; corruption of the legend in the "gesta romanorum," . "offices," the, of cicero quoted, . ogdensburg, the taking of, xxvii. ogier, m. pegot, on the worship of the guanches, . ogilby's "japan," quoted, , . ogyges and deucalion, traditional connection of, with deluge, . "o-kee-pa," the, a religious ceremony of mandans, , . old chronicle of egypt, the, ; analysis of, . opischeschaht indians, ceremonies among the, . "oracula sybillina," the, quoted, , , , . oral transmission of tradition, , ; h. n. coleridge on, . _orbis terrarum_, the, , ; nucleus of, . ordeals among the indians, . ordinances of menu, , . oriental religions, cardinal wiseman on the, . "origin and development of religious belief," mr baring gould on, - . origin and growth of international law, . "origin of laws," goguet's, quoted, . origin of mosaic law, . orpheus and euridike, . "orvar odd's saga," , . osiris, the judge of the soul, , . over-population, malthus' views regarding, . ox temple of meaco, ceremony in the, . ozanam, on laws, , . pachacamac, the peruvian deity, , , . pagan view of the social compact, . _pall mall gazette_, the, on the darwinian theory of conscience, , ; on laws, , ; on utilitarianism, , ; on european radicalism, ; on the custom of the manx thing, . palmer, mr william, on egyptian chronology, - , ; on osiris, . panathenæa, the, . pantheon, the, of the egyptians, ; of the chaldæans, . papacy, the, head of a general european league, , . papal states, seizure of the, - . paralleled traditions, - ; customs, ; festivals, - , - . parlementaires, . pastoral life, necessities of, . pastoret's history, quoted, on amphictyonic council, , , . patagonians, religious festivals among the, - . peace and war, symbols of, - . peacock, the, symbol of the rainbow, - . pelasgians, the, . pelasgus, . pentateuch, the rev. w. smith's work on, quoted, , , . pentheus, the fate of, . peopling of american continent, how accomplished, - . persistency of colour in african races and others, . perseus, legend of, . persians, ancient tradition of the, . peru, the deity of, . peruvians, worship of the, ; garcilasso de la vega on, . pheasant, the, relation of, to the mandans, . philology, comparative, . philosophy alone is not religion, . phoenician tradition of deluge, ; cosmogonies, , . phoroneus, the father of mankind, , . phrygian legend of the deluge, . pinkerton's account of religion of the samoides, . plato, tradition of condition of families recorded by, , ; his atlantis, an embodiment of tradition, . plough, etymology of the word, , . plumtre's Æschylus, . plutarch's "numa," quoted, . polyandry, regulated and rude, , . polygamy, . "polynesian researches," quoted, . polytheism and monotheism, - . pongol festival of southern india, - . pontifical power, the, . poole, mr, . pope, the, centre of a european league, . pope's odyssey quoted, . poseidon, . positivism, huxley's definition of, . posterity of ham, the, , . precedence of women in dahome, . pottery, the art of, an evidence of progress, , . pre-historic archæology divided into four epochs, , . prayer and punishment, expressed by same word by latins, . prescott's "history of mexico" quoted, , . prevost, sir g., xxv., xxvi. primary objects of law of nations, . primitive condition of mankind, traditions regarding, from sanchoniathon, , . primitive life, ; the family, ; society and government, ; necessities of pastoral, ; origin of feuds and wars, - ; tendency to dispersion, ; gradual consolidation, , ; mr j. s. mill on, ; progress from a savage to a civilised state, ; the arab and iroquois exceptional instances, ; distinctive avocations of hunter, husbandman, and shepherd, ; in india, mr hunter on, , ; exogamous tribes, ; polyandrous families, ; marriage, - ; views of blackstone on, . primitive marriage, mr m'lennan's theory of, ; sir john lubbock on, . primitive races, . prophecy of st malachy, . progress of man to civilisation, , . prometheus, supposed identity with adam, ; confusion of traditions regarding, , . promiscuity, , . pu-an-ku, the primeval man, . public opinion, , . purification and punishment, association of, . pythagoras, . quapaws, tradition of the, . quetzalcohuatl, identity of with manco capac, . quincey, de, ; on kant's scheme of a universal society, . rabbit, the great, tradition of, , . races, primitive, . radicalism, european, . radien, the deity of scandinavian mythology, . "rain and rivers," the, of col. g. greenwood, quoted, , . rainbow, the symbol of peace, ; tradition of the, - . ra or il, the chaldæan deity, ; account of, by rawlinson, . ravana, . rawlinson, professor, xvi., , ; on babylonian chronology, , ; on good and evil personifications, ; identification of nergal with mars, ; on deities of chaldæan pantheon, , , , ; on nin or ninip, ; on noah, ; corroboration of assyrian history, ; the use of metals, . reduplication and confusion of deities, . reduplications--of yao and hoang-ti, ; of enoch, ; of bacchus, , . relics of scriptural tradition in greece, . religion and philosophy, divergence between, . religion of the samoides, ; among savage races, ; the tonpinambas of brazil, ; the feegees, ; among indians, , ; in guinea, ; among the fuegians, , ; among peruvians, , ; among lepchas and limboos, ; among the khasias, ; among andamans, ; among tahitians, , ; among sandwich islanders, ; in vancouver's island, . religion, gradual progress of, among primitive peoples, , , , . "religion the representation of a philosophic idea," . religious formalities on declaration of war, . restriction of the comity of nations, . revelation, primitive, , . rites, levitical, borrowed from the egyptians, , . river, etymology of the word, . rock, the very rev. dr, . roman church, the _spectator_ on, . roman law, - ; influence of stoics on, . roman ideas of the cosmogony, . romans and latins, political union of the, . rude and regulated polyandry, , . ryley, mr e., on belligerent rights, , . sabines, the, . sacrifices in the temple of neptune, . sacrificial weapons, . st julian, scene at, . st malachy, ancient prophecy of, . saluberry, general de, xxvii. samoans, the, . samoides, customs of the, ; their religion, , . samoyed traditions of creation, , . sanchi, commemorative festival of deluge at, . sanchoniathon, traditions from, ; relation of, to genesis, , , ; on diluvian tradition, . sandwich islanders, religion among the, . sanscrit literature, ; etymology of the word _plough_, . sanscrit story of the deluge, . santals, the, ; struggle with the aryans for the mastery, ; traditions of, ; customs of, . satirists, use of blackness of complexion by, . _saturday review_, the, on mr gladstone's "juventus mundi," ; on indian traditions, . saturnalia, the, . saturn, identified as nin, ; traditional connection of, with deluge, - ; reference to as oceanus, ; the inventor of agriculture, . savage belief in the devil, . savage races, vestiges of religion among, , . scandinavian edda, story of baldrin, ; quoted, . scandinavian mythology, the deity of, . sceptical effect of discoveries in science, xvi., xvii. scheme of a universal society, kant's, . schemes, communistic, . schlegel on tradition, ; on chaldæan mythology, ; on indian traditions, ; on diluvian tradition, , . scriptural chronology, historical testimony and evidence in favour of, . scriptural tradition, relics of in greece, . scripture and tradition, . scythians, the, . seebohm, mr f., xv. semitic monotheism, . serpent, the, associated with darkness, . servitude in marriage, the law of, . sethites and cainites, . shakergal, the feast of roses in cashmir, . shem, resemblance of nebo to, . shepherds, dynasty of the, . shin-nong, the divine husbandman, ; identified with noah, , . siethas, the, worshipped by the lapps, . sioux indians, tradition among the, regarding blackness of complexion, ; of creation of man, . six nations, tribes of the, . slavonian account of the creation, . smith, rev. dr, on the pentateuch, , ; origin of mosaic law, . social compact, the, pagan view of, . socialists, english, . society and government, elementary constituent of, . society, human, founded upon a contract, . solar and ancestral worship, interfusion of, . solar mythology, , . "so-sin," the, commemorative festival in dahome, , . _soss_, _sar_, and _ner_, chaldean periods of time, . sothic cycle, the, , - . sothis, book of, . southern india, pongol festival of, - . "spanish conquest of america," the, of helps, quoted, , - . _spectator_, the, on the roman church, . spencer, dr, . state of nature, a, - . states, formation of, - . stephens' "central america" quoted, . stevens, mr e. t., , . stoics, the, their influence on roman law, . stone age, the, untenable hypothesis of, ; professor nillson on, , , ; evidence in favour of, , ; mode of burial in, , . stripes of coloured cloth, emblematic, . "struggle for existence," the, . subjective existence of conscience, . sudra, the, . sun-worship, - , . superstitions of the khasias, . "supplicants," the, of Æschylus quoted, . symbols of peace and war, - . syncellus, , , ; quoted, . _tablet, the_, quoted, ; on arbitration instead of war, ; on position of the papacy, . tahitians, the, tools of, ; religion and civilisation of, , . tamanacs, tradition of the, . tangaloa, the tonga god, . tartar tribes, tradition of deluge among, . tasman's "voyage of discovery" quoted, , . tasmanians, knowledge of fire among the, . taurus, . taylor, rev. richard, on the new zealanders, , . temple of diana, the, . temple of neptune, sacrifices in the, . tendency of tradition to uncertainty and distortion, , ; to reduplication, . ten kings, league of the, . themis and themistes, , , . three stages of progress with man, . _times, the_, quoted, , ; on franco-german war, . tlascala, the republic of, , . tlascopan, the kingdom of, . tocqueville, de, on international law, . tohil, the fire-god, . tonga, tradition in, regarding blackness of complexion, . tongusy, the religion of the, . tonpinambas, the, of brazil, . topan, the idol, . tortoise, curious belief regarding the, , . tortures among the indians, . "totems and totemism," . tradition--among mozca indians, ; of the human race, ; père lacordaire on, - ; common origin of, ; antagonism of religion to, ; tendency of, to uncertainty and distortion, , ; confusion of family tradition, ; persistency of local, ; unity of scripture with, ; duke of argyll on, ; testimony of eusebius to value of, ; oral transmission, the main channel of, ; schlegel on, ; sanchoniathon on, ; concordance and divergence in, ; truth and persistence of, ; of the creation of man, - ; intellectual strictures upon, ; opposition of baring gould's views, ; relics of scriptural, in greece, ; of the man-bull, ; of the deluge among american indians, ; among santals and lepchas, ; the _saturday review_ on indian, ; sir john lubbock on, ; de maistre's view, - ; untrustworthiness and uncertainty of, according to lubbock, ; a lapland, ; capacity of savages for transmission of, - ; evidences of, in religion of savage nations, - ; of the mundane egg, - ; of fire, , ; the discovery of america a proof of, ; of bochica among mozca indians, ; peruvian, compared with classical and oriental, - ; transfusion and intermixture of, , ; of golden age, ; of first and second heavens among chinese, ; of age of primitive equality, ; coincidence of science with, ; the centre of, ; preservation of, under patriarchal governments, ; of a law common to all nations, ; of a law of nature, ; the atlantis of plato an embodiment of, ; of law connecting religion, ; of the rainbow, - ; of the dove, - ; of modes of declaration of war, . _see_ also deluge, festivals, noah. traditions connecting man with the monkey, . traditions, paralleled and compared, of diluvian customs, - , . transition from stone to bronze age, . treaties, the violation of, , . treaty of paris, the, . tressan, l'abbe, on mythology, . tribes of the malay peninsula, ; of the six nations, . triptolemus, the inventor of the plough, . truth and persistence of tradition, . turanian race, their migrations, . turditani, the, . tylor, mr e. b., xiv., ; on myths connecting man with the monkey, ; on animism, . union of romans and latins, the, . universal society, scheme of a, . unwritten laws, . usage the basis of law of nations, . untenable hypothesis of a stone age, . urquhart, mr d., . utilitarianism and international law, , . "utility," bentham's peculiar crotchet, ; the basis of his juridical system, . vaivaswata, . valdegamas, marquis de, . vancouver's island, scene on, . vaux, mr, on metallurgy of the ancients, . vega, garcilasso de la, on peruvian religion, . venus, ; myths of, , . vestiges of religion among savage races, , . vigne, mr g. g., , . violation of treaties, the, , . virgil, lines of, on saturn, ; his Æneid quoted, ; the eclogues, . virtue and vice personified as white and black in the zendavesta, . voltaire, the intellect of, . voltairean prejudices against primitive records, . vul, the son of ana, . wallace, mr, ; on man, . wallis, captain, , . wallis, mr j. e., . war and peace, symbols of, - . war, the declaration of, . _see_ declaration of war. warburton, e., on oral transmission of past events among the indians, . waring, mr j. b., . warlike epithets applied to noah, . water, etymology of the word, . weapons of metal among ancient races, , . weld, rev. a., xiv. weld, f. a., governor of western australia, . welsh ballad quoted, . westminster, archbishop of, xv. "whale ashore," a, contrasted descriptions of, by catlin and sir john lubbock, , . whately, archbishop, . white and black personifications of vice and virtue in the zendavesta, . white flag, the, a symbol of peace, . wilkinson, sir j. g., on ham, ; his "ancient egyptians" quoted, . wilson's "archæologia of scotland" quoted, , . wiseman, cardinal, ; on the distribution of man, ; the unity of scripture with tradition, ; the oriental religions, ; conformity of grammatical forms, ; jewish rites and ceremonies, ; the growth of nations, . wordsworth's "excursion" quoted, . women, their status, ; precedence of, in dahome, . worship, mode of, among the peruvians, . worship of ancestors, , . writing, its invention, ; cuneiform, ; greece indebted to cadmus for, . xisuthrus, attempted identification of with noah, . yao or yu, ; erection of monument by, commemorative of the deluge, . yavana identified with javan, son of japheth, . yokohama, religious festivals at, . zendavesta, the, . zeus, - . printed by ballantyne and company edinburgh and london burns, oates & co.'s list. =narratives of remarkable conversions=; containing mrs. seton, hermann cohen, david richard, alphonse ratisbonne, comte laferronays, &c. cloth, _s._ _d._ =tales of the french revolution.= fcp., cloth, _s._ this interesting volume contains eight historical tales, illustrating the faith and heroism of clergy and laity in those troubled times. =christian schools and scholars.= by the author of the "three chancellors," "knights of st. john," &c. two vols. vo, _s._; cash, _s._ this important and interesting work should be in every library. =life of st. ignatius.= by father bartoli, s.j. vols. _s._ =life of blessed charles spinola=, s.j. by father brockaert, s.j. _s._ =the path which led a protestant= lawyer to the catholic church. by p. h. burnett. vo. _s._ _d._ =balmez' fundamental philosophy.= by brownson. vols. _s._ =irish homes and irish hearts.= by fanny taylor, author of "eastern hospitals," "tyborne," &c. handsome cloth, _s._ works by fathers of the society of jesus. =reply to dr. pusey's "eirenicon."= by rev. father harper. vo, _s._ =vita vitæ nostri, meditantibus= proposita. by the rev. h. j. coleridge. cloth, _s._ _d._; calf, _s._ _d._ =life of blessed margaret mary= alacoque. by rev. g. tickell. _s._ _d._ =sermons,= part i. by fathers coleridge and hathaway. _s._--part ii. by fathers gallwey and parkinson. _s._--part iii. by fathers parkinson, coleridge, and harper. _s._ ditto, the three parts in one. cloth, _s._ =union with rome.= by father christie. _s._ =the church of st. patrick.= by father waterworth. _s._ _d._ =the papacy and schism.= by father bottalla. _s._ _d._ =infallibility of the pope.= by the same. _s._ _d._ =reply to renouf on pope honorius.= by the same. _s._ _d._ =the life and letters of st.= francis xavier. the narrative and arrangement by the rev. h. j. coleridge. 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calf, _s._ supplement to former editions, _d._--_also, uniform_, =sarra on indulgences=, _s._ =memorials of those who suffered= for the faith in ireland in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries. collected from authentic and original documents by myles o'reilly, b.a., ll.d. vo, cloth, _s._ _d._ "a very valuable compendium of the martyrology of ireland during the times of active protestant persecution. the language of many of these original records is inexpressibly touching."--_dublin review._ "very interesting memories."--_month._ =the doctrine of the spiritual= life. by father lallemant, s.j. new edition, _s._ =a harmony of the gospels.= by the rev. father law, of the oratory. _s._ =little book of the love of god.= by count stolberg. with life of the author. cloth, _s._ "an admirable little treatise, perfectly adapted to our language and modes of thought."--bishop of birmingham. =heroines of charity.= containing popular lives of mme. de miramion. mme. de pollalion. mdlle. de lamoignon. louise de marillac. duchess de aiguillon. the sisters of vincennes. jeanne biscot. anne de melun. the little sisters of the poor. cloth neat, _s._ _d._ = & portman street, & paternoster row.= transcriber's note footnotes in the original were numbered consecutively for each chapter. they have been renumbered to be unique to the text. references to notes below follow the newly numbered sequence. for those issues which occur in footnotes, the page number refers to the page on which the note begins. the punctuation of many quoted passages is haphazard, with quotation marks incorrectly or incompletely indicating the nesting thereof. for example, footnote on p. consists in part of a quotation ending with "...the last work of the creator." here, the punctuation of nested quotations is incorrect. it is not clear where the boundary of the quote should be. unless the scope is very clear, no attempt has been made to correct these lapses, and the text stands as printed. we note the following paragraphs which remain as printed: p. n. "the chinese cosmogony... p. n. "the mandans believed... p. n. in the _second_ ... fixed it at midnight." p. ra is a god with few peculiar... p. rawlinson says of this god... p. n. _vide_ his other epithets... p. bachus is by some called... p. "he is said to have transmitted to mankind... p. "the chief actors in these strange scenes... p. it will be remembered... the opening scene in the mandan customs... p. we shall not be surprised to learn... p. at whydat ... white visitors. p. n. "the sandwich islands... p. at pp. - there is perhaps... p. mr max müller adds... p. "amongst the mexicans ... in the old world." p. n. the very rev. dr rock... st paul says... p. n. _vide_ also in carver's... this text is dense with citations, some of which seem incorrect. for example, the reference to genesis i. . on p. is attributed to "gen. x.". no attempt was made to correct any attributions. in note on p. , the quoted passage from pastoret's (ix, ) was corrupted, and is corrected: "on s'assembloit dans [au lien/un lieu] sacré du mont mycale". on p. , the name "Æschylus" appears, unaccountably as "oeschylos", but is retained. this text is generally followed as printed. corrections are made only where there are obvious printer's errors or where there are numerous examples of a correct spelling. where the issue appears in quoted passages, no corrections were made. this includes foreign language citations (french, latin and greek), where spelling and accents, in particular, may not appear as expected. in the index and advertisements, incidental inconsistencies of punctuation are corrected without further notice. the following table describes textual issues encountered during the preparation of this text, and the resolution of each. p. xxviii occ[c]upy removed. p. ethnic division.["] added. p. n. "vues des cordillères["], added. p. n. (sanskrit, pota = boat[)] added. p. n. to the waters of the great lake, &c.["] added. p. n. the extent of the countries they _sic._ opening inhabit.["] quote missing. p. according to different [different] degrees removed. p. a 'dark['] spirit added. p. ( [+/×] ) = corrected. p. generations [ ], years _sic._ missing. p. acc[c]ounted removed. p '_in the mountain the lord will see_.[']" added. p. n. co[s]mopolitanism added. p. n. "l'antiquite devoilée par ses usages["] added. p. n. m[u/ü]ller corrected. p. are still living under the ground.["] added. p. [ ']arrow-head,' added. p. 'the chief of the spirits,['] added. p. n. "anacalypsis,['/"] corrected. p. which owes it[s] origin added. p. mi[s]chievous added. p. with two horns.["] added. p. montfau[c/ç]on corrected. p. n. noted also in the "panathenæa.["] added. p. _kan_ (rope) 'gbe (to-day).["] added. p. n. being the most common.["] added. p. which are thus described[?] _sic._ ':'? p. n. hawaiki, [(]sandwich islands). _sic._ ? p. in the branches of the trees["] added. p. n. ["]the indians resemble added. p. ["]gods canon and camis or chamis;" added. p. n. divided into _four acts_["]. added. p. n. ['/"]soirées de st petersbourg" corrected. p. lubb[u/o]ck's corrected. p. n. and "camac" participle of "camani," ["]i create." added. p. to [the] the reader line break repetition. p. n. (["]traditions of the new zealanders") added. p. n. (gen. xiii.)[]] _sic._ ? p. n. (niebühr, ii. ch. vi.[)] added. p. n. ["]the oath taken by added. p. n. ["]_l'antiquité dévoilée par ses usages_ removed. p. n. ne saurait assez reconnaître.["] added. p. n. "_droit romain_,["] i. . added. p. the "caduceatores["] added. p. n. smith ("myth. dict."[)] added. p. romans and [and ]latins line break repetition. p. norma[m/n]by corrected. go[q/g]uet's corrected. nature myths and stories for little children by flora j. cooke chicago. _a. flanagan, publisher._ nature myths and stories for little children by flora j. cooke of the cook county normal school chicago revised edition chicago a. flanagan, publisher. copyright by flora j. cooke. preface. feeling the great need of stories founded upon good literature, which are within the comprehension of little children, i have written the following stories, hoping that they may suggest to primary teachers the great wealth of material within our reach. many teachers, who firmly believe that reading should be something more than mere _word-getting_ while the child's _reading habit_ is forming, are practically helpless without the use of a printing press. we will all agree that myths and fables are usually beautiful truths clothed in fancy, and the dress is almost always simple and transparent. who can study these myths and not feel that nature has a new language for him, and that though the tales may be thousands of years old, they are quite as true as they were in the days of homer. if the trees and the flowers, the clouds and the wind, all tell wonderful stories to the child he has sources of happiness of which no power can deprive him. and when we consider that here, too, is the key which unlocks so much of the best in art and literature, we feel that we cannot rank too highly the importance of the myth in the primary schoolroom. for instance the child has been observing, reading, and writing about the sun, the moon, the direction of the wind, the trees, the flowers, or the forces that are acting around him. he has had the songs, poems, and pictures connected with these lessons to further enhance his thought, interest, and observation. he is now given a beautiful myth. he is not expected to interpret it. it is presented for the same purpose that a good picture is placed before him. he feels its beauty, but does not analyze it. if, through his observation or something in his experience, he _does see a meaning_ in the story he has entered a new world of life and beauty. then comes the question to every thoughtful teacher, "can the repetition of words necessary to the growth of the child's vocabulary be obtained in this way?" this may be accomplished if the teacher in planning her year's work, sees a close relation between the science, literature, and number work, so that the same words are always recurring, and the interest in each line of work is constant and ever increasing. the following stories are suggested in the standard books of mythology and poetry, and have been tested and found to be very helpful in the first and third grades. a full list of myths, history stories and fairy tales for the children in the different grades can be found in emily j. rice's course of study in history and literature, which can be obtained of a. flanagan, no. wabash avenue, chicago. [illustration] contents. animal stories:-- donkey and the salt } fox and the stork } _adapted from Æesop_ grateful foxes _adapted from edwin arnold's poem. permission of chas. scribners' sons._ how the spark of fire was saved _adapted from john vance cheney's poem._ how the chipmunk got the stripes on its back _adapted from edwin arnold's poem._ an indian story of the mole bird stories:-- an indian story of the robin _adapted from whittier's poem, "how the robin came."_ how the robin's breast became red the red-headed woodpecker _adapted from phoebe cary's poem._ cloud stories:-- palace of alkinoös _adapted from the odyssey._ swan maidens flower stories:-- clytie golden-rod and aster insect stories:-- arachne aurora and tithonus king solomon and the ants _adapted from whittier's poem._ king solomon and the bee _adapted from saxe's poem._ mineralogy stories:-- sisyphus the story of the pudding stone sun myths:-- balder persephone _adapted from "story of persephone," told by helen ericson, class of , cook county, (ill.), normal school._ phaethon tree stories:-- daphne fairy story philemon and baucis poplar tree the secret of fire miscellaneous stories:-- hermes iris' bridge prometheus clytie. clytie was a beautiful little water nymph who lived in a cave at the bottom of the sea. the walls of the cave were covered with pearls and shells. the floor was made of sand as white as snow. there were many chairs of amber with soft mossy cushions. on each side of the cave-opening was a great forest of coral. back of the cave were clytie's gardens. here were the sea anemones, starfish and all kinds of seaweed. in the garden grotto were her horses. these were the gentlest goldfish and turtles. the ocean fairies loved clytie and wove her dresses of softest green sea lace. with all these treasures clytie should have been happy, but she was not. she had once heard a mermaid sing of a glorious light which shone on the top of the water. she could think of nothing else, but longed day and night to know more of the wonderful light. no ocean fairy dared take her to it, and she was afraid to go alone. one day she was taking her usual ride in her shell carriage. the water was warm and the turtles went so slowly that clytie soon fell asleep. on and on they went, straight towards the light, until they came to an island. [illustration] as the waves dashed the carriage against the shore clytie awoke. she climbed out of the shell and sat down upon a large rock. she had never seen the trees and flowers. she had never heard the birds chirping or the forest winds sighing. she had never known the perfume of the flowers or seen the dew on the grass. in wonder, she saw a little boy and girl near her and heard them say, "here it comes! here it comes!" as she looked away in the east she saw the glorious light that she had so longed for. in its midst, in a golden chariot, sat a wonderful king. the king smiled and instantly the birds began to sing, the plants unfolded their buds, and even the old sea looked happy. clytie sat on the rock all day long and wished that she might be like the great kind king. she wept when he entered the land of the sunset and she could see him no longer. she went home, but she could scarcely wait until the morning. very early the next day her swiftest goldfish carried her to the rock. after this, she came every day, wishing more and more to be like the great kind king. one evening as she was ready to go home, she found that she could not move her feet. she leaned out over the sea and knew that she had her wish. instead of a water nymph a beautiful sunflower looked back at her from the water. her yellow hair had become golden petals, her green lace dress had turned into leaves and stems, and her little feet had become roots which fastened her to the ground. the good king the next day sent her into many countries, into dry and sandy places, that the people might be made happy by looking at her bright face, so like his own. [illustration] golden-rod and aster. golden hair and blue eyes lived at the foot of a great hill. on the top of this hill in a little hut lived a strange, wise woman. it was said that she could change people into anything she wished. she looked so grim and severe that people were afraid to go near her. one summer day the two little girls at the foot of the hill thought they would like to do something to make everybody happy. [illustration] "i know," said golden hair, "let us go and ask the woman on the hill about it. she is very wise and can surely tell us just what to do." "oh, yes," said blue eyes, and away they started at once. it was a warm day and a long walk to the top of the hill. the little girls stopped many times to rest under the oak trees which shaded their pathway. they could find no flowers, but they made a basket of oak leaves and filled it with berries for the wise woman. they fed the fish in the brook and talked to the squirrels and the birds. they walked on and on in the rocky path. after a while the sun went down. the birds stopped singing. the squirrels went to bed. the trees fell asleep. even the wind was resting. oh, how still and cool it was on the hillside! the moon and stars came out. the frogs and toads awoke. the night music began. the beetles and fireflies flew away to a party. but the tired little children climbed on towards the hilltop. at last they reached it. there at the gate was the strange, old woman, looking even more stern than usual. the little girls were frightened. they clung close together while brave golden hair said, "we know you are wise and we came to see if you would tell us how to make everyone happy." "please let us stay together," said timid blue eyes. as she opened the gate for the children, the wise woman was seen to smile in the moonlight. the two little girls were never seen again at the foot of the hill. the next morning all over the hillside people saw beautiful, waving golden-rod and purple asters growing. it has been said that these two bright flowers, which grow side by side, could tell the secret, if they would, of what became of the two little girls on that moonlight summer night. [illustration] the wise king and the bee. long ago there lived in the east the greatest king in the world. it was believed that no one could ask him a question which he could not answer. wise men came from far and near, but they were never able to puzzle king solomon. he knew all the trees and plants. he understood the beasts, fowls and creeping things almost as well as he did people. the fame of his knowledge spread into all lands. in the south, the great queen of sheba heard of the wonderful wisdom of solomon and said, "i shall test his power for myself." she picked some clover blossoms from the field and bade a great artist make for her, in wax, flowers, buds and leaves exactly like them. she was much pleased when they were finished, for she herself could see no difference in the two bunches. she carried them to the king and said, "choose, oh wise king, which are the real flowers?" at first king solomon was puzzled, but soon he saw a bee buzzing at the window. "ah," said he, "here is one come to help me in my choice. throw open the window for my friend." then the queen of sheba bowed her head and said: "you are indeed a wise king, but i begin to understand your wisdom. i thank you for this lesson." [illustration] king solomon and the ants. one morning the queen of sheba started back to her home in the south. king solomon and all his court went with her to the gates of the city. it was a glorious sight. the king and queen rode upon white horses. the purple and scarlet coverings of their followers glittered with silver and gold. the king looked down and saw an ant hill in the path before them. "see yonder little people," he said, "do you hear what they are saying as they run about so wildly? "they say, 'here comes the king, men call wise, and good and great. 'he will trample us under his cruel feet.'" "they should be proud to die under the feet of such a king," said the queen. "how dare they complain?" "not so, great queen," replied the king. he turned his horse aside and all his followers did the same. when the great company had passed there was the ant hill unharmed in the path. the queen said, "happy indeed, must be your people, wise king. i shall remember the lesson. "he only is noble and great who cares for the helpless and weak." arachne. arachne was a beautiful maiden and the most wonderful weaver that ever lived. her father was famed throughout the land for his great skill in coloring. he dyed arachne's wools in all the colors of the rainbow. people came from miles around to see and admire her work. they all agreed that queen athena must have been her teacher. arachne proudly said that she had never been taught to weave. she said that she would be glad to weave with athena to see which had the greater skill. in vain her father told her that perhaps athena, unseen, guided her hand. arachne would not listen and would thank no one for her gift, believing only in herself. one day as she was boasting of her skill an old woman came to her. she kindly advised her to accept her rare gift humbly. "be thankful that you are so fortunate, arachne," said she. "you may give great happiness to others by your beautiful work. "queen athena longs to help you. "but i warn you. she can do no more for you until you grow unselfish and kind." arachne scorned this advice and said again that nothing would please her so much as to weave with athena. "if i fail," she said, "i will gladly take the punishment, but athena is afraid to weave with me." then the old woman threw aside her cloak and said, "athena is here. "come, foolish girl, you shall try your skill with hers." both went quickly to work and for hours their shuttles flew swiftly in and out. athena, as usual, used the sky for her loom and in it she wove a picture too beautiful to describe. if you wish to know more about it look at the western sky when the sun is setting. arachne's work, though her colors were in harmony and her weaving wonderfully fine, was full of spite and selfishness. when the work was finished arachne lifted her eyes to athena's work. instantly she knew that she had failed. ashamed and miserable she tried to hang herself in her web. athena saw her and said in pity, "no, you shall not die; live and do the work for which you are best fitted. "you shall be the mother of a great race which shall be called spiders. "you and your children shall be among the greatest spinners and weavers on earth." as she spoke, arachne became smaller and smaller until she was scarcely larger than a fly. [illustration] from that day to this arachne and her family have been faithful spinners, but they do their work so quietly and in such dark places, that very few people know what marvelous weavers they are. aurora and tithonus. the beautiful youth, tithonus, loved aurora, the queen of the dawn. he was the first one to greet her each day as she drew back the purple curtains of the east. he made his bed on the green grass in the meadow that he might not miss her coming. aurora grew to expect his welcome and to love the youth dearly. one morning when she came tithonus was not in his usual place. as she looked anxiously around she saw him with pale face and closed eyes lying upon the ground. she darted down to earth and carried his almost lifeless body to zeus. she begged the great king to promise that tithonus should never die. but alas, in her haste, she forgot to ask that he might forever remain young. therefore he grew old and bent, and could no longer walk. in misery, he begged to go back to the cool grass in the meadow where he had been so happy. aurora in pity said, "you shall go, my tithonus. to make you happy is my dearest wish. "you shall be free from all care. "you shall not be a man, lest you be compelled to work for your food in your old age. "you shall be a grasshopper, free to dance in the meadow grass all the long summer days. "i have prepared a dress for you, which shall protect you well." then she gave tithonus the wonderful grasshopper coat of mail which had been unknown on earth until this time. she tinted it a soft green so that he might not be noticed in the grass. tithonus went that day to live in the meadow and there, any summer day, you may find him and his family hopping merrily about in the sunshine. [illustration] how the robin's breast became red. long ago in the far north, where it is very cold, there was only one fire. a hunter and his little son took care of this fire and kept it burning day and night. they knew that if the fire went out the people would freeze and the white bear would have the northland all to himself. one day the hunter became ill and his son had the work to do. for many days and nights he bravely took care of his father and kept the fire burning. the white bear was always hiding near, watching the fire. he longed to put it out, but he did not dare, for he feared the hunter's arrows. when he saw how tired and sleepy the little boy was, he came closer to the fire and laughed to himself. one night the poor boy could endure the fatigue no longer and fell fast asleep. the white bear ran as fast as he could and jumped upon the fire with his wet feet, and rolled upon it. at last, he thought it was all out and went happily away to his cave. a gray robin was flying near and saw what the white bear was doing. she waited until the bear went away. then she flew down and searched with her sharp little eyes until she found a tiny live coal. this she fanned patiently with her wings for a long time. her little breast was scorched red, but she did not stop until a fine red flame blazed up from the ashes. then she flew away to every hut in the northland. wherever she touched the ground a fire began to burn. soon instead of one little fire the whole north country was lighted up. the white bear went further back into his cave in the iceberg and growled terribly. he knew that there was now no hope that he would ever have the northland all to himself. this is the reason that the people in the north country love the robin, and are never tired of telling their children how its breast became red. [illustration] an indian story of the robin. when an indian boy was eleven years old, he was sent into a forest far away from his home. he had to stay there all alone and fast for seven days and nights. the indians thought that at this time a spirit came into the youth which helped him to become a great chief and warrior. the spirit also told the boy what his name should be in the tribe. once there was a fierce indian war chief who had only one son. the little boy was not strong, but his father loved him more than anything else on earth. when this boy was eleven years old, the chief went out into the forest and built a small lodge for him to stay in. in it he placed a mat of reeds which his good squaw had woven with great care. by the side of the mat he laid a bow, some arrows and his own great tomahawk. next he painted pictures upon the trees along the path leading from the wigwam to the lodge. he did this that the little boy might easily find his way home. when everything was ready he sadly sent his son away into the forest. he missed him so much that he went every morning to look at him. each day he asked him if the spirit had not come to him. each day the little boy shook his head without opening his eyes. on the fifth day his son said to him, "father, take me home or i shall die. no spirit will come to me." the old chiefs pride was greater than his pity and he said, "no, my son, you must not be a coward. you shall be as wise as a fox and as strong as a bear. "better that you should die than that boy and squaw should cry 'shame' upon your father's son. "be patient, i will come in two days and bring you food." the sixth day came and the little boy lay upon the mat white and still. on the seventh, when the chief came with the sun's first rays, his son was not in the lodge nor about it. above the door sat a bird with brown coat and red breast, which until this time had been unknown to man. sadly the chief listened to the bird and understood its message. "mourn me not, great chief," it sang. "i was once your son. "i am happy now and free. "i am the friend of man and shall always live near him and be his companion. "i shall bring the tidings of spring. "when the maple buds shoot and the wild flowers come, every child in the land shall know my voice. "i shall teach how much better it is to sing than to slay. "chief, listen, chief, be more gentle; be more loving. chief, teach it, chief, be not fierce, oh, be not cruel; love each other! love each other!" the red-headed woodpecker. there was an old woman who lived on a hill. you never heard of any one smaller or neater than she was. she always wore a black dress and a large white apron with big bows behind. on her head was the queerest little red bonnet that you ever saw. it is a sad thing to tell, but this woman had grown very selfish as the years went by. people said this was because she lived alone and thought of nobody but herself. one morning as she was baking cakes, a tired, hungry man came to her door. "my good woman," said he, "will you give me one of your cakes? i am very hungry. i have no money to pay for it, but whatever you first wish for you shall have." the old woman looked at her cakes and thought that they were too large to give away. she broke off a small bit of dough and put it into the oven to bake. when it was done she thought this one was too nice and brown for a beggar. she baked a smaller one and then a smaller one, but each one was as nice and brown as the first. at last she took a piece of dough only as big as the head of a pin; yet even this, when it was baked, looked as fine and large as the others. so the old woman put all the cakes on the shelf and offered the stranger a dry crust of bread. the poor man only looked at her and before she could wink her eye he was gone. she had done wrong and of course she was unhappy. "oh, i wish i were a bird!" said she, "i would fly to him with the largest cake on the shelf." as she spoke she felt herself growing smaller and smaller until the wind whisked her up the chimney. she was no longer an old woman but a bird as she had wished to be. she still wore her black dress and red bonnet. she still seemed to have the large white apron with the big bows behind. because from that day she pecked her food from the hard wood of a tree, people named this bird the red-headed wood-pecker. the story of the pudding stone. once upon a time a family of giants lived upon the high mountains in the west. one day the mother giant was called away from home. she arose early in the morning and made ready the bread and butter for the little giants to eat while she was gone. when she had finished her work it was not yet time to start upon her journey. she said to herself, "my children are the best children in the world and they shall have a treat. i have many plums left from the christmas feast. i will make them a plum pudding for a surprise. the good woman brought together the plums which it had taken her many days to prepare with the help of all her children. indeed she had emptied several mountain lakes to get water enough to wash them all. she now mixed these wonderful plums into a pudding and put it into an oven to bake. the mixing took so long that she had to hurry, and she quite forgot to say anything about the pudding to the little giants. she had intended to tell them about it just before she left them. it was afternoon when the giant children found the pudding. it was badly burned upon the top by that time. they had already eaten the bread and butter and were not hungry. one little giant said to the others, "let us make balls of the pudding and see who can throw the farthest." you know that giants are very strong, and away went the pudding up into the air. the little giants made little balls and the older giants threw pieces as big as a house. many pieces went over the mountains and fell down into the valley beyond. indeed this wonderful pudding was scattered for miles over the whole land, for the giants did not stop throwing as long as there was any pudding left in the pan. when the sun had shone upon it many days and dried and hardened it, people called it pudding stone. you may find it to-day thrown all over the land, full of the plums which the good woman washed with the waters of many lakes. story of sisyphus. little white cloud was the ocean's daughter. the ocean loved her, and wished always to keep her near him. one day, when her father was asleep, white cloud went out to walk alone. the sun saw her and said, "come, white cloud, i am your king, i will give you a ride upon my bright rays." white cloud had often longed for this very thing, so she went gladly, and soon found herself among the fleecy clouds in the sky. when the ocean awoke he called his little daughter. she did not answer. he called again and again, louder and still louder, until the people said, "listen, it is thundering!" but the ocean only heard the echo of his own voice from the shore. he rushed high up on the beach and moaned aloud. he ran into all the caves but white cloud could not be found. every one had loved white cloud, so by this time all the water was white with the crests of the weeping sea nymphs. a great giant was sitting upon the shore near the sea. his name was sisyphus. he felt sorry for the ocean and said, "listen, friend ocean, i often watch you carrying the great ships and wish that i, too, had a great work to do. "you see how dry it is on this side of the mountain. few people come this way. you are not even now as lonely as i, yet i want to help you. promise me that you will put a spring upon this mountain side, where all the tired and thirsty people may drink, and i'll tell you where white cloud is." [illustration] the ocean said, "i cannot put a spring upon the mountain, but if you will follow my son, river, he will take you to a spring where he was born." the giant told the ocean how the sun ran away with white cloud. the sun heard him and was angry. he placed sisyphus in the sea saying, "you are far too strong to sit idly here upon the shore. you say you want a great work to do; you shall have it. you shall forever use your strength to push these stones upon the shore, and they shall forever roll back upon you." the giant began his work at once, and has worked faithfully every day since that time. many people do not yet know what his work is. do you? do you know what sisyphus is making? [illustration] the palace of alkinoÖs. on a high plain covered with flowers once lived good king alkinoös and his gentle people, the phaiakians. they were great sailors and went about in silver ships without rudders or sails. these wonderful ships went slowly or very fast just as the sailors wished. for many years the phaiakians were peaceful and happy. though they were as brave as they were gentle, they hated war. far below the phaiakians, in a valley, lived a people larger, darker, fiercer than themselves. these dark people cared for nothing so much as war and conquest. when they saw the silver ships with the golden prows, they wanted them for their own. they armed themselves and made ready for a great battle. to be sure of victory, they borrowed the thunder and lightning from zeus. the day came and all was ready for the dark people to advance. they reached the land of the phaiakians in the morning and king alkinoös came forward to meet them. they soon saw that he alone was more powerful than their entire army. he was dressed in armor so bright that it dazzled their eyes to look at it. it was covered with millions of golden arrows tipped with diamonds. the king showed the frightened people how he could shoot the arrows in all directions at the same time. the dark people trembled with fear, but king alkinoös smiled at them, and then he and his people sailed slowly away toward the west. on and on they went, until they came to a great silver sea. here they stopped and built a palace for their king. this palace was made of silver and gold and precious stones. its towers were rose color and shone with a wonderful light. its steps were of pure gold. on each side of the silver gates were huge dogs which guarded the palace. there were boys in the halls dressed in white, holding burning torches. there were girls weaving wonderful curtains and painting pictures upon the walls. there were mountains and fountains, and rivers and lakes. there were singing birds and flower gardens, and little children everywhere. even to this day, the great king often sits in his palace in the west when his day's work is done. he loves to see the people glide about upon the silver sea, in their ships without rudders or sails. the fierce, dark people still go to war. they seldom let the gentle king see them fighting. yet often after a brave battle, alkinoös comes out of his palace and smiles brightly upon them. the dark people blush and seem to smile at the king. you must find out how much good these dark people do and how the king of the phaiakians helps them in their work, if you wish to understand their friendship. [illustration] phaethon. phaethon was the son of helios, who drove the chariot of the sun. he lived with his mother, the gentle clymene, in a beautiful valley in the east. one day when phaethon was telling his companions about his father, the sky king, they laughed and said, "how do you know that helios is your father? you have never seen him. if, as you say, he cannot safely come nearer to the earth, why do you not sometimes go to his land." phaethon answered, "my father's throne is far away from this valley. my mother has promised that when i am stronger, i shall go to my father's palace. i often watch his golden chariot roll by in its path and think perhaps some day i shall drive the glorious horses of the sun. "i shall go now to my mother, and ask her how much longer i must wait." when phaethon told his mother what his companions had said she answered, "go, my child, ask great helios if you are his son. if you are worthy to be the son of helios you will be given strength and courage for the journey." phaethon gladly and bravely climbed the unused path which led to the palace of the sun. at last he came in sight of the throne. he had never seen anything so beautiful. on one side were standing the days, months and the old years. on the other side were the seasons; spring, covered with flowers; summer, with her baskets of fruit and grain; autumn, in a many-colored dress; and young winter, with a crown of icicles. as phaethon came nearer to the throne, the light was greater than his eyes could bear. its wonderful colors dazzled him. helios saw the brave youth and knew that it was phaethon, his son. he took his glittering crown from his head and went forward to meet him. phaethon cried, "great helios, if you are my father give me and others proof that it is so." helios took him in his arms and kissed him. "you are indeed my son," he said. "i will put an end to your doubts. ask any gift you will, and it shall be yours." phaethon had always had one wish in his heart and said, "o, my father, let me drive the wonderful golden chariot of the sun for just one day." helios shook his head sadly and said, "that is the one thing which you must not ask to do. "you are my son, and i love you. for your own sake, i cannot let you do this. you have neither the strength nor the wisdom for the great work. "the first part of the way is very steep and rugged. in the middle part, even i dare not look below at the far stretching earth, and the last part is full of terrible dangers." phaethon would not listen, but threw his arms around his father's neck and begged to go. helios said at last, "if you persist, foolish boy, you shall have your wish, for i cannot break my promise. i beg of you choose more wisely. ask the most precious thing on earth or in the sky, and you shall have it." already dawn had drawn back the purple curtains of the morning and the hours were harnessing the horses to the chariot. the stars and moon were retiring for the day. the chariot glittered with jewels which sent the light in all directions. phaethon looked upon it with delight and longed impatiently for the great joy of driving it. helios said, "o, my dear son, go not too high or you will scorch the dwelling of heaven, nor too low, lest you set the world on fire. "keep the middle path; that is best, and do not use the whip; rather, hold the horses in." phaethon was too happy to hear what his father was saying. he leapt into the golden chariot and stood erect as the fiery horses sprang forth from the eastern gates of day. they soon missed the strong steady hand of their master. up, up they went, far into the sky, above the stars, and then plunged downward toward the earth. the clouds smoked, the mountain tops caught fire, many rivers dried up and whole countries became deserts. great cities were burning, and even poseidon cried out in terror from the sea. then the people on earth learned with what great wisdom the path of the sun was planned. helios saw that the whole world would soon be on fire, and cried to father zeus to save the earth from the flames. zeus searched all the heavens for clouds and hurled his thunderbolts from the sky. phaethon fell from the chariot, down, down into a clear river. the naiads cooled his burning brow, and gently sang him to sleep. his sisters came to the banks of the river and wept. that they might be always near phaethon, zeus, in pity changed them into poplar trees, and their tears became clear amber as they fell into the water. at last the tired horses became quiet, and the great car rolled slowly back into its old path. but the deserts and barren mountain tops still tell the story of the day phaethon tried to drive the chariot of the sun. the grateful foxes. it was springtime in japan, and the blossoms hung thick on the cherry trees. butterflies and dragon flies fluttered over the golden colza flowers in the fields. the rice birds chirped merrily. everything seemed to say, "how good it is to live in days like these." a beautiful princess, o haru san, sat on the bank of a stream gaily pulling the lilies. all the maidens of her court were with her. along the river bank came a troop of noisy, laughing boys, carrying a young cub fox. they were trying to decide who should have its skin and who its liver. at a safe distance from them, in a bamboo thicket, father fox and mother fox sat looking sadly after their little cub. the princess' heart was filled with pity, and she said: "boys, pray loose the little fox. see his parents weeping in the rocks." the boys shook their heads. "we shall sell the fox's skin," they said. "the liver, too, if well powdered, will be used to cure fevers in the fall." "listen," cried o haru san, "it is springtime, and everything rejoices. how can you kill such a small soft beast? "see, here is twice your price; take it all," and she drew copper money and silver money from her girdle. the boys placed the little frightened animal in her lap and ran away, pleased to be so rich. the cub felt the touch of her soft hand, and trembled no longer. she loosened carefully the knot and noose and string. she stroked the red fur smooth again, and bound up the little bleeding leg. she offered it rice and fish to eat, but the black eyes plainly said, "this is very nice, but i hear my parents grieving near yonder beanstraw stack. i long to go and comfort them." she set the little fox gently on the ground, and, forgetting its wounded leg, it leaped through the bushes at one happy bound. the two old foxes gravely looked it over neck and breast. they licked it from its bushy tail to its smooth, brown crown. then, sitting up on their haunches, they gave two sharp barks of gratitude. that was their way of saying, "we send you thanks, sweet maid." as she walked home by the river side, all the world seemed more beautiful to o haru san. * * * * * the summer time came and the blossoms upon the cherry trees became rich, ripe fruit. but there was no joy in the emperor's house. his daughter, the gentle o haru san, was ill. she grew paler and weaker each day. physicians came from far and near, and shook their wise heads gravely. when the emperor's magician saw her, he said, "no one can heal such sickness. a charm falls upon her every night which steals away her strength. he alone can break the spell, who, with sleepless eyes, can watch beside her bedside until sunrise." gray haired nurses sat by her until morning, but a deep sleep fell upon them at midnight. next fourscore maidens of the court, who loved her well, kept bright lights burning all the night, yet they, too, fell asleep. five counselors of state watched with her father at the bedside. though they propped their eyes open with their fingers, yet in the middle of the night slumber overcame them. all believed that the gentle maid must die. the emperor was in despair, but ito, a brave soldier, said, "i shall not sleep; let me one night guard the sweet o haru san." her father led him to the chamber. just at midnight ito felt his eyes grow heavy. he rose and held his sword above his head. "rather will i die than sleep," he said. then came a great struggle. often his head nodded, but by his love and strength ito conquered sleep. suddenly he heard a voice which said, "grate foxes' livers in the princess' rice broth and all her ills will disappear." the next morning the hunters searched far and near for foxes. they knew that to the emperor a fox was worth its weight in gold. all day and night they were in the woods without food or rest. at last they came sadly back to their homes. they brought no fox. "all the foxes know," they said, "and have hidden themselves away." the emperor in grief and anger cried, "must my child perish? shall a princess die for the lack of one poor fox? "she was never willing that one should be slain and this is her reward." ito said, "i will get the fox." he started out with knife and net to seek it. at the entrance of the town he met a woman dressed in strange garments. very small and stooped she seemed to ito. she carried a jar in her arms. she bowed low before ito, and said, "what you seek is in the jar. i have brought it from afar." "here is gold," said ito. "what is the price?" the woman pulled the blue hood farther over her face and said, "another time will do, i can wait. hasten now to the princess." gladly ito obeyed. they made the broth in a bowl of beaten gold and fed it to o haru san. immediately she was well and all was joy in the emperor's house. the emperor said, "ito, is she, who brought this blessing, paid?" ito answered, "yonder she waits at the entrance of the town." the emperor himself in his great joy went with ito to meet her. but they found only a dog-fox dead. around his neck they read this message, "this is my husband here. "for his child he gives his liver to the princess, dear. i, his very lowly wife, have brought it." [illustration] persephone. demeter had the care of all the plants, fruits and grains in the world. she taught the people how to plow the fields and plant the seeds. she helped them gather in their harvests. they loved the kind earth-mother and gladly obeyed her. they also loved her daughter, the beautiful persephone. persephone wandered all day in the meadows among the flowers. wherever she went the birds, singing merrily, flocked after her. the people said, "where persephone is, there is the warm sunshine. "flowers bloom when she smiles. "listen to her voice; it is like a bird's song." demeter wished always to have her child near her. one day persephone went alone into a meadow near the sea. she had made a wreath for her hair, and gathered all the flowers that her apron could hold. far away across the meadow she saw a white flower gleaming. she ran to it and found that it was a narcissus, but far more beautiful than any she had ever seen. on a single stem were a hundred blossoms. she tried to pick it, but the stem would not break. with all her strength she grasped it, and slowly it came up by the roots. it left a great opening in the earth which grew larger and larger. persephone heard a rumbling like thunder under her feet. then she saw four black horses coming toward her from the opening. behind them was a chariot made of gold and precious stones. in it sat a dark, stern man. it was hades. he had come up from his land of darkness, and was shading his eyes with his hands. he saw persephone, beautiful with flowers, and instantly caught her in his arms and placed her in the chariot beside him. the flowers fell from her apron. "oh! my pretty flowers," she cried, "i have lost them all." then she saw the stern face of hades. frightened, she stretched out her hands to kind apollo who was driving his chariot overhead. she called to her mother for help. hades drove straight toward his dark underground home. the horses seemed to fly. as they left the light, hades tried to comfort persephone. he told her of the wonders of his kingdom. he had gold and silver and all kinds of precious stones. persephone saw gems glittering on every side as they went along, but she did not care for them. hades told her how lonely he was, and that he wished her to be his queen and share all his riches. persephone did not want to be a queen. she longed only for her mother and the bright sunshine. soon they came to the land of hades. it seemed very dark and dismal to persephone, and very cold, too. a feast was ready for her, but she would not eat. she knew that any one who ate in hades' home could never return to earth again. she was very unhappy, though hades tried in many ways to please her. everything on the earth was unhappy, too. one by one the flowers hung their heads and said, "we cannot bloom, for persephone has gone." the trees dropped their leaves and moaned, "persephone has gone, gone." the birds flew away and said, "we cannot sing for persephone has gone." demeter was more miserable than any one else. she had heard persephone call her, and had gone straight home. she searched all the earth for her child. she asked every one she met these questions, "have you seen persephone? where is persephone?" the only answer she ever received was, "gone, gone, persephone is gone!" demeter became a wrinkled old woman. no one would have known that she was the kind mother who had always smiled on the people. nothing grew on the earth and all was dreary and barren. demeter said that she would do nothing until persephone returned to her. it was useless for the people to plow the soil. it was useless to plant the seeds. nothing could grow without the help of demeter. all the people were idle and sad. when demeter found no one on earth who could tell her about persephone, she looked up toward the sky. there she saw apollo in his bright chariot. he was not driving as high in the sky as he was wont to do. often he gathered dark mists about him so that none saw him for many days. demeter knew that he must know about persephone, for he could see all things on earth and in the sky. apollo told demeter that hades had carried persephone away and that she was with him in his underground home. demeter hastened to the great father zeus, who could do all things. she asked him to send to hades for her daughter. zeus called hermes. he bade him go as swiftly as the wind to the home of hades. hermes whispered to everything on the way that he was going for persephone so that all might be ready to welcome her back. he soon arrived in the kingdom and gave hades the message from zeus. he told about the barren earth and of how demeter was mourning for her child. he said she would not let anything grow until persephone came back. the people must starve if she did not soon return. then persephone wept bitterly, for that very day she had eaten a pomegranate and swallowed six of its seeds. hades pitied her and said that she need only stay with him one month for each seed she had eaten. joy gave her wings, and as swiftly as hermes himself, persephone flew up into the sunshine. apollo saw her and rose higher and higher into the sky. a gentle breeze came rustling from the southeast, and whispered something to everything he met. suddenly the flowers sprang up; the birds flocked together and sang; the trees put on bright green leaves. everything, great and small, began to say in his own language, "be happy for persephone has come! persephone has come!" demeter saw these changes and was puzzled. "can the earth be ungrateful? does she so soon forget persephone?" she cried. it was not long however before her own face became beautiful and happy, for she held again her beloved child in her arms. when demeter found that persephone could stay with her only half the year, she brought out the choicest treasures from her storehouse and while persephone stayed, the world was filled with beauty and joy. when she had gone, demeter covered the rivers and lakes, and spread a soft white blanket over the sleeping earth. then she, too, fell asleep and dreamed such pleasant dreams that she did not awake until she felt persephone's warm kiss on her forehead. [illustration] the swan maidens. a long, long time ago there was born in the east a wonderful king. he was called "the king of the golden sword." every day he came in his golden chariot scattering heat, light and happiness among his people. every day he passed from his palace in the east far over to his throne in the west. he never missed a day for he wanted to see that everyone had a full share of his gifts. throughout the kingdom the birds sang and the flowers bloomed. the sky was full of beautiful pictures which were constantly changing. the king had many daughters who were called swan maidens. they were as graceful as swans and usually wore white featherlike dresses. the swan maidens loved their good father and each one longed to help him in his work. sometimes the king saw that the grass was brown or the buds were not coming out. then he called the swan maidens to him and said, "my children, this must not be. there is nothing more beautiful in the kingdom than the green grass and the trees. they need your care." gladly each maiden changed her dress and set out at once on her journey. often they could not all work upon the grass and the buds. some of them ran off to play with the stones in the brook. the best ones went down to feed the roots and worms, and worked out of sight. when their tasks were finished they always hurried back to their father, the king. they went so noiselessly and swiftly that for a long time their way of travelling was a mystery. in the fall, the king called the bravest swan maidens to him. he told them they must go away for a long time. the swan maidens wrapped themselves in white, feathery blankets and came softly down to the shivering flowers. gently they placed a white spread on the earth and left no small seed uncovered. at last, when the king smiled and their work was done, they stole away so softly and happily that no one missed them. [illustration] the poplar tree. one night, just at sunset, an old man found the pot of gold which lies under the end of the rainbow. his home was far beyond the dark forest, through which he was passing. the pot of gold was heavy, and he soon began to look for a safe place in which to hide it until morning. a poplar tree stood near the path stretching its branches straight out from the trunk. that was the way the poplar trees grew in those days. "ah," said the man, "this tree is the very place in which to conceal my treasure. "the trees are all asleep, i see, and these leaves are large and thick." he carefully placed the pot of gold in the tree, and hurried home to tell of his good fortune. very early the next morning, iris, the rainbow messenger, missed the precious pot of gold. she hastened to zeus and told him of the loss. zeus immediately sent hermes in search of it. hermes soon came to the forest where it was hidden. [illustration] he awakened the trees, and asked them if they had seen the pot of gold. they shook their heads sleepily, and murmured something which hermes could not understand. then zeus himself spoke to them. "hold your arms high above your heads," he said, "that i may see that all are awake." up went the arms, but alas, down to the ground came the pot of gold. the poplar tree was more surprised than any one else. he was a very honest tree and for a moment hung his head in grief and shame. then again he stretched his arms high above his head, and said, "forgive me, great father; hereafter i shall stand in this way that you may know that i hide nothing from the sun, my king." at first the poplar tree was much laughed at. he was often told that he looked like a great umbrella which a storm had turned inside out. but as years went by every small poplar was taught to grow as fearless, straight and open hearted as himself, and the whole poplar family became respected and loved for its uprightness and strength. [illustration] the donkey and the salt. one time a merchant went to the seashore for a load of salt. there were many hills and streams to cross on the journey. as the path was narrow and rocky, the man made his donkey carry the salt in large bags upon his back. it was a warm day, and the donkey did not like his heavy load. he hung down his head and went as slowly as he could. after a while they came to a stream which had only a foot bridge over it. the donkey went through the water, splash! splash! splash! in the middle of the stream was a large stone which he did not see. he stumbled and fell, and the water ran over the bags of salt. soon the donkey was glad that he had fallen, for he found his load much lighter. they came to another stream, but the donkey did not stumble this time. he lay down in the middle of the brook. he was a wise donkey. this time he lost so much salt that his master was angry, for he was obliged to go back to the seashore for another load. as they were walking along, the merchant laughed to himself. he thought he knew a way to cure the donkey of this trick. when they came to the seashore, he filled the bags with sponges, and started for home. the donkey thought, "what a light load i have," and trotted gaily along over the rough road. again they came to the brook. "ah!" thought the donkey, "i will make my load still lighter." he lay down in the middle of the brook. this time he found his load so heavy that he could scarcely rise. his master kindly helped him, but the donkey was not happy. the water ran down his sides and made him more miserable. "oh," thought he, "i will never lie down in the water again." once more his master led him back to the seashore. he filled the bags with salt. the donkey was wiser now and carried the salt safely home. the secret of fire. a tree story. one summer night a great army of pine trees settled down in a quiet valley to rest. they were a tall, dark, grave-looking company. they held their heads high in the air, for they were the only trees in the world who knew the wonderful secret of fire. high above this valley, on the hillside, lived a little company of oaks. they were young, brave, and strong-hearted. when they saw the great band of pines marching into the valley, the tallest one said: "let us make them divide the gift of fire with us." "no," said the oldest, wisest oak, "we must not risk, foolishly, the lives of our acorns. we could do nothing against so many." all the acorns had been listening to what the tree said. each one longed to help in finding out the great secret. one of them became so excited that he fell from the limb, down upon the hard ground. he did not stop at the foot of the tree, but rolled over and over, far down into the valley. here a brook picked him up and hurried him away; but as he stopped to rest by a stone, he heard his good friend, the wind, talking to a pine tree. "what is the secret of fire which the pine trees know?" asked the wind. "don't you think it is selfish to keep it all to yourselves?" the pine tree loved the wind and answered: "great wind, it is, indeed, a wonderful secret; you must never tell it." then she whispered it to the wind. the little acorn went on and on down the stream. he came to an old log, which was the home of a large family of squirrels. the mother squirrel was very sad. the last flood had brought her and her children far away from her old forest home. her family had all been saved, but food was scarce and winter was near. the acorn felt very sorry for her and said: "i am too small to do you much good alone. if you will carry me back to my home, i will show you a forest with plenty of nuts. you can take your family there in the fall." this the squirrel was very glad to do. as they went along the acorn called to all the elms, maples, willows and hickories to meet that night on the hilltop. "come to the hill across from the great blue mountains," he said. "there you will learn the secret of fire." by evening they were all there, in great companies, ready for war on the pines. when the squirrel came to the forest and saw all the nuts she was much pleased. she offered to carry the acorn to the very top of the tallest tree. the trees were all glad of this, for every one wanted to hear what he said. when the acorn began to speak, even the wind stopped whispering and listened. "friends," he said, "there must be no battle. the pine trees have only the same gift of fire that you have. to every tree that stretches out its arms the glorious sun gives this gift. but it was in this way that the pine trees learned the secret of getting the fire from the wood: they saw an old indian chief with two curious pieces of wood. one was round and smooth, the other was sharp-pointed. with all his strength he was rubbing them together. soon he had worn a groove in the round stick. he rubbed faster and faster, and there in the groove was a tiny spark of fire. then the indian blew his breath upon the spark and a little yellow flame leaped up. all the pine trees saw it. 'see, it is fire!' they said." when the great company of trees had heard the acorn's story they shook their heads in doubt. then the acorn said: "this is the true secret of fire. if you do not believe it why do you not try it for yourselves." they took this advice and all the trees learned that what he had said was true. they were so happy that they spent the whole night in singing and dancing. in the morning, when they saw the great blue mountains and the beautiful valley, many of them settled down upon the hillside for life. the pines looked up and saw hundreds of trees with their shining arms. they were so frightened that they climbed high up on the mountain side. there they stayed a long, long time. [illustration] they grew sad and lonely, and often sighed and wished for their old home and comforts. but they were brave and strong-hearted, and helped each other. at last, some of them came down into the valley again. through suffering they had grown strong and unselfish. they gave their best trees to the people and their fairest to the children at christmas time. indeed, there is not a tree in the world to-day more loved than the pine tree, who first had the secret of fire. [illustration] a fairy story. some fairies once lived in a dark glen in a pine forest. they were real fairies, many of them not higher than a pin. their greatest treasure was a magic cap which had been in the fairy family for many generations. the most wonderful thing about the cap was that it fitted exactly any one who wore it. when one fairy put it on, he and all the others became invisible. a stupid race of giants lived among the mountains near them. they wanted the fairy cap more than anything else in the world. one warm day when the elves were away from home, a giant came into the glen. he was seeking just such a cool place for his afternoon nap. he was so large and the glen so small that when he lay down he almost filled the valley. the music of a fairy brook soon lulled him to sleep. perhaps you have heard how a giant snores, and how his breath comes in great puffs. the giant was snoring and puffing when the fairies came towards home. they heard the strange sound and thought a great storm was brewing. "there has never been such a wind in the glen," said the fairy queen. "we will not go down into it. we must seek shelter for to-night on this hillside." just then they came to the giant's ear. "here is a fine cavern," the queen said, and she stopped and waved her wand. a fairy hastened forward to carry the cap to a safe place in the cave, for that was always their first care. just then the giant awoke. he raised his great head. oh, how miserable the fairies were! they wept and moaned until even the dull ear of the giant heard them. it was a sound like the tolling of tiny silver bells. he listened and understood what the wee voice of the prisoner in his ear was saying. he was the wisest and most kind-hearted of all the giants. he helped the little creature gently out into his hand, and looked at him in wonder. he had never before seen a fairy. in vain the brave little fellow tried to conceal the precious cap. the giant saw the wonderful star and knew at once that he had the treasure cap of the elves. he set the fairy carefully upon the ground, and shouted for joy as he found that the cap exactly fitted his own great head. the poor fairies could no longer see him, but they heard a sound like thunder, as he hurried over the stones towards his home. they were now afraid to move about while the sun shone. they crept under leaves and into shells and cried bitterly. by sundown every plant in the glen was wet with their tears. the sharp eyes of the eagle on the mountain top saw them and a great pity filled his heart. "i must help the fairies," he said, "otherwise i should not be worthy to be called the 'king of birds'." he went directly to the home of the giants and demanded the cap, but they refused to give it up. [illustration] all that an eagle could do, he did, but as the giants wore the invisible cap he could not see them. he could only hear their great voices. he knew however that the giants were proud of their great size and strength, and liked, above all things, to be seen. he was sure that they would not wear the cap in battle, and he did not lose hope. one day they carefully placed it under a large stone on the mountain side below them. the keen eye of the eagle was watching. he flew fearlessly to the spot as soon as the giants had left it. he lifted the stone in his great talons, and was soon flying away with the cap to the fairy glen. the giants saw him, and knew at once what he was doing. they began a fierce attack upon him. the air was filled with flying arrows and sharp rocks. drops of blood fell on the mountain side, and many feathers fluttered down, but the brave eagle was soon out of their reach. he did not stop until the cap was safe in the fairy queen's lap. there was great rejoicing among the fairies that day. they had a feast in the eagle's honor, and healed his wounds with fairy magic. on the mountain side, wherever the blood and feathers fell, there sprang up trees with featherlike leaves and blood-red berries. all the giants, fairies, plants and animals knew why they grew. the unselfish love in the eagle's blood could not die, but lived again in the beautiful trees. but people who did not know how they came there, called them mountain ash trees. [illustration] philemon and baucis. on a high hill in greece, long ago, lived philemon and baucis. they had always been poor but never unhappy. at the time of this story the people in the valley below them were very busy. zeus, their king, had sent word that he was about to visit them. hermes, his messenger, was to come with him. the people were getting ready great feasts, and making everything beautiful for their coming. for miles out of the city, men were watching for the golden chariot and white horses of the king. one night, just at dark, two beggars came into the valley. they stopped at every house and asked for food and a place to sleep. but the people were too busy or too tired to attend to their needs. footsore and weary, at last they climbed the hill to the hut of philemon and baucis. these good people had eaten scarcely anything for several days that they might have food to offer the king. when they saw the strangers, philemon said, "surely these men need food more than the king." baucis spread her one white table cloth upon the table. she brought out bacon and herbs, wild honey and milk. she set these before the strangers with all the good dishes that she had. then a wonderful thing happened. the dishes which the strangers touched turned to gold. the milk in the pitcher became rich nectar. philemon and baucis dropped upon their knees. they knew that their guests could be no other than zeus and hermes. zeus raised his hand and said, "arise, good people, ask what you will and it shall be yours." philemon and baucis cried in one voice: "grant, oh zeus, that one of us may not outlive the other, but that both may die in the same instant." this had long been the wish in each heart, and the fear of being left alone in the world was the one trouble of their old age. zeus smiled and changed their rude hut into a beautiful castle, and granted them many years of happy life. one morning the people in the valley noticed that the castle had disappeared. they hurried to the spot and found growing in its place two beautiful trees, an oak and a linden. no trace of the good couple could be found. many years after, however, a traveller lying under the trees heard them whispering to each other. he lay very still and soon learned that in them philemon and baucis still lived, happy and contented, and protected by zeus from all harm. [illustration] daphne. daphne was the daughter of the river peneus. she was a beautiful child and her father loved her more than anything else in the world. her home was in a cave which he had cut for her in a great white cliff. the walls of the cave were of marble. from the roof hung crystal chandeliers which peneus' servants had made. on the floor was a soft green carpet woven by the water fairies. peneus brought his most beautiful pebbles to daphne's cave every night. he sang songs to her in the evenings and told her stories of his travels. she visited with him the great island which he was building in the sea. when the morning star shone in the sky it was daphne who awakened the birds and flowers. with her golden hair flying behind her, she sped into the forest. everything awoke when they felt the touch of her rosy fingers, and smiled as they saw her happy face. the trees and the forest animals were her playfellows, and she had no wish for other friends. she learned their ways, and the deer could not run more swiftly than she, nor the birds sing more sweetly. one day as she was running over the stones near the cave, king apollo saw her. "ah, little maid," said he, "you are very beautiful. your feet are too tender for the hard rocky earth. "come, you shall live with me in my palace in the sky." but daphne fled from him. she did not want to leave her beautiful earth home. fear gave her wings, and faster and faster she flew. her hair streamed behind her like a cloud of golden light. apollo followed more swiftly than the wind. "stop and listen," he cried; "i am not a foe, foolish girl. it is apollo who follows you. i shall carry you to a home more beautiful than anything you have ever seen." she felt his breath upon her hair, and saw his hand as he stretched it forth to seize her. "father, save me from apollo," she cried. "let the earth enclose me." peneus heard her voice and instantly her feet became fastened in the soil like roots. a soft bark covered her body and her beautiful hair became the leaves of the laurel tree. apollo sadly gathered some of the leaves and wove them into a wreath. he laid his hand upon the tree and said, "i would have made you happy, but you would not listen to me. "at least you shall be my tree. your leaves shall be ever green, and heroes shall be crowned with them in sign of victory." [illustration] an indian story of the mole. an indian once saw a squirrel sunning himself in a tree top. the squirrel saw the hunter and leaped upon a passing cloud. he had escaped into cloudland before an arrow could reach him. the indian set a trap for him hoping that he would soon return to the tree for food. the sun happened to be coming that way and was caught in the trap. suddenly, in the middle of the day, it became dark. the indian was frightened and said, "ah me, what have i done, i have surely caught the sun in my trap." he sent many animals up to set it free, but all were instantly burned to ashes. at last the mole said, "let me try, i shall bore through the ground of the sky and gnaw off the cords which hold the trap." he did this, but just as he loosened the last cord the sun sprang forth and the bright light shone full in his eyes. the poor mole dropped to the earth and though his friends were able to save his life, he was blind. "you need not pity me," he said, "i prefer to live underground, where really there is no use for eyes." all the moles were so proud of this hero mole that they tried to be like him in every way. they, too, went to live in a dark hole in the earth. their eyes, which they did not need to use, became so small that they were entirely hidden by their fur. indeed it is now so hard to find them that many people think the entire mole family is blind. [illustration] how the spark of fire was saved. long ago when fire was first brought to earth, it was given into the care of two beldams at the end of the world. the cahroc indians knew where it was hidden. they needed fire and were always planning ways to get it. they went at last to the wise coyote. "that is simple enough," said he, "i will show you a way to get it. fire is a great blessing and should be free to all people." the coyote knew every inch of the road to the beldams' hut. along the path leading to it, he stationed beasts, the strongest and best runners nearer the hut and the weaker ones farther off. nearest the guarded den, he placed one of the sinewy cahroc men. then he walked boldly up to the door of the hut and knocked. the beldams, not fearing a coyote in the least, invited him in. they were often lonely, living so near the end of the world. when the coyote had rested before the fire for some time, he said, "the cahroc nation need fire. could you not give them one small spark? you would never miss it. here it is of no use." the beldams answered, "we do not love it, but we dare not give it away. we must guard it while we live." the coyote had expected them to say this. he sprang to the window, and instantly outside were heard such sounds, that the beldams rushed out to see what the frightful noise could be. each animal in the line was sounding the watch-word of fire in his own way. the wild horse neighed, the mountain lion roared, the gray wolf howled, the serpent hissed, the buffalo bellowed, and every small animal did its part equally well. indeed, it is no wonder that the beldams were frightened nearly to death. the cahroc man brought water and told them not to fear for themselves. the coyote seized a half-burned brand and was off in an instant. the beldams sprang after him and followed him closely over hill and valley. faster than the wind they flew. they were stronger than he, and though he put all his wild-wood nerve to the strain, they steadily gained. soon the race must end! but puma, the monstrous cat, was watching, and leaped up just in time to save the brand. each animal was in its place and the good fire passed on. it came at last to the cahroc nation, and was afterwards free to all people under the sun. there were only two mishaps in all the race. as the squirrel turned a corner of stumps and bowlders, his beautiful tail caught fire, and a brown track was burned up over his back to his shoulders, and the curl has remained in his tail to this day. the frog had a harder fate. he was the last one in the line of beasts. when the brand reached him it was smaller than the smallest coal in the grate. he seized it carefully and jumped forward as fast as he could, but the hand of the foremost beldam caught him and held him fast. how his heart beat! his eyeballs bulged out of his head, and he has looked ever since much in the same scared way. he did not lose his courage, however. he swallowed the coal and sprang into the water. sad to tell, the beldam still held in her hand his special pride and care, his tail. henceforth only the tadpoles could wear tails. the frog sought a log and sat down upon it to think. "i did my duty, even if i lost my beauty," he thought; "that is enough for a frog. this spark must be saved." after much choking he spat the swallowed spark well into the bark. the gift came, in this way, to all men; for, in even the wettest weather, if you rub two sticks together, fire is sure to come. because we know how the frog hurt his throat that day, we like to listen to his hoarse voice when we hear him singing to his children in the spring. balder. the people in the north once believed that high above the clouds was the beautiful plain of asgard. odin, ruler of asgard, mighty thor, and many other heroes lived on the plain. their homes were great castles, splendid with silver and gold. in the middle of the plain, and apart from the other dwellings, stood a pure white palace. nothing that was not fair and good had ever dared to enter it. it was the home of balder. because of his great beauty and wisdom, he was called "balder the beautiful," and "balder the good." everything loved him. the dull rocks and the gray old mountains met him with a smile. the flowers opened, the birds sang and the water sparkled when they saw his face. one night he dreamed that he must soon leave asgard and all the things that he loved. the next night he dreamed that he was living in the gloomy underground world. the third night, when the same terrible dream came to him, he was greatly troubled. he told odin, his father, and frigga, his mother, about it. odin, in great fear, called together his wisest heroes. they shook their heads but could do nothing to help him. frigga cried, "it shall not be! i, his mother, will save him." she went straight way to heimdal, who guarded the rainbow bridge. bifrost, which was the name of the bridge, was the only path which led from asgard to the earth. heimdal allowed only those who lived in the plain to pass over it. all feared heimdal, yet they loved him. he could see to the ends of the world. he could hear the wool growing on the sheep's back, and knew when each grass blade broke into the sunshine. heimdal loved balder and when he heard what troubled frigga, pitied her. he gave her his swift black horse and showed her the way to the ends of the earth. for nine days and nights she traveled without food or rest. she asked everything she met to promise not to harm balder. animals, flowers, trees, water, air, fire, everything she asked gladly gave the promise. they smiled in wonder at the question. who could wish to hurt the gentle balder? alas, the mistletoe did not promise. frigga saw it growing high up on an oak tree. it seemed too small and weak to do any harm. she did not ask it to promise. on the tenth day of her journey, she came back again to asgard. she told the sorrowing odin and his friends what she had done. in their joy they found a new way to do balder honor. he stood in their midst while the most skillful heroes hurled their arrows at him. at first, they threw only small twigs and pebbles. everything, however, had soon proved itself true to its promise. then the heroes lost all fear of harming him and threw their warlike weapons. balder stood unharmed and smiling among them. each day they met on the plain and in this sport proved the love of all things for him. the blind höder was the only one in asgard who could not join in the game. he was balder's brother and loved him very dearly. höder was not unhappy, but always cheered and shouted as gaily as the others. one day as he stood alone, loki saw him. loki was a mischief maker. his jokes were often cruel; indeed, most of the unhappiness in asgard was caused by loki's unkindness. "höder, why do you not do balder honor?" asked loki. "i am blind," höder answered, "and besides i have nothing to throw." "here is my arrow," said loki. "take it; i will guide your hands." alas, the cruel loki had made the arrow of mistletoe. he knew that this was the only way in which balder could be harmed. he longed to see the surprise of the heroes when balder should at last be wounded. away flew the arrow. balder, the beautiful, fell lifeless to the ground. then all asgard was dark with sorrow. strong heroes wept and would not be comforted. the earth grew cold, white and still. the water would not flow, and the seeds refused to grow. the birds were silent. no flowers breathed their perfumes into the air. there was not a smile in all the world. odin said, "this cannot be. "balder shall return. i, myself, will go and bring him from hela's dark regions." but frigga had already sent a messenger to the spirit world to beg queen hela to release balder. while waiting for the messenger to return, the heroes were not idle. for twelve days and nights they worked as only love can make men work. they did not pause for food nor rest. they built a great funeral pyre, and no one was too small to help in the work of love. they found balder's ship upon the seashore. they brought great logs from the forest and bound them upon the deck. upon these they placed his beautiful white horse, his dogs, his shining armor, and many things which he had loved on earth. when it was finished, they raised the sails, set the ship on fire and pushed it out upon the sea. they sang and wept all night until at sunrise the sails fell. they watched the flames die down and the waves wash over the sinking ship. as they turned sadly from the shore, they met the messenger from hela's regions. "rejoice," he said, "hela says, 'if everything living and lifeless weep for balder, he may return to us.'" there was great happiness in asgard that day. "surely," they thought, "everything in the world will weep for balder." they had forgotten the cruel loki. he sat with dry eyes though rocks and trees, birds and flowers, wind and clouds were shedding tears. when odin found that balder could not return to life, his anger and grief were terrible to see. in fear, loki hid himself deep in the earth under a mountain. frigga knew that he was conquered, and she patiently waited for the time when balder should again be allowed to bring gladness to the earth, and fill all the heavens with the glory of his smile. [illustration] how the chipmunk got the stripes on its back. do you all know the little striped chipmunk which lives in our woods? he has a cousin in far off india called the geloori. it is said the stripes came on the back of the geloori in a wonderful way. one day the great shiva saw a little gray chipmunk on the seashore. he was dipping his bushy tail into the sea, and shaking out the water on the shore. twenty times a minute he dipped it into the ocean. in wonder, shiva said, "what are you doing, little foolish, gray, geloori? why do you tire yourself with such hard labor?" the geloori answered, "i cannot stop, great shiva. "the storm blew down the palm tree, where i built my nest. "see! the tree has fallen seaward, and the nest lies in the water; my wife and pretty children are in it; i fear that it will float away. therefore all day and all night i must dip the water from the sea. "i hope soon to bale it dry. "i must save my darlings even if i spoil my tail." shiva stooped and with his great hand stroked the little squirrel. on the geloori's soft fur from his nose to the end of his tail, there came four green stripes! they were the marks of shiva's fingers, placed there as signs of love. shiva raised his hand, and the water rolled back from the shore. safe among the rocks and seaweeds, the palm tree lay on dry land. the little squirrel hastened to it; his tail was now high in the air. he found his wife and children dry and well in their house of woven grass-blades. as they sang their welcomes to him, the geloori noticed with delight that each smooth little back was striped with marks of shiva's fingers. this sign of love is still to be seen upon the back of chipmunks. that is the reason why in india, good men never kill them. a man who loves both children and chipmunks says, when he tells this story, "perhaps our squirrels, though shiva never stroked them, would be grateful if we left them, unharmed, to play in the maples in our woods." the fox and the stork. a fox met a stork and invited him to dinner. "with all my heart, friend," said the stork. when they arrived at the home of the fox and dinner was served, he was not so happy. the fox had fine hot soup, but he served it in shallow plates. the poor stork could only stand by and watch the fox eat. the fox seemed to think that it was a very good joke. the next day the stork met the fox and invited him to dinner. the stork brought out fine hot soup in a high narrow necked bottle, but the fox could not see the joke at all. the stork said, "friend fox, enjoy your dinner. i hope that the soup is as well flavored as yours was yesterday." as he said this he poured out half of the soup into a bowl and set it before the fox. the cunning old fox felt so ashamed that he has never looked anyone straight in the face since that day. prometheus. greece is far away to the east over a great ocean. it is a very small country with high mountains in every part of it. the people who lived there long ago could not easily go from one place to another. some of the mountains reached above the clouds and made great walls around their homes. men sometimes lived all their lives near the sea and never saw it. these people who were shut up in the little valley of greece did many wonderful things. as they could not go far from their homes they had time to see how beautiful the things around them were. perhaps they looked at the sky so much that they wished to have everything on earth just as beautiful. they gave their children work to do which made them strong and graceful. some of the greeks carved statues from the marble in the mountains. some built great temples of it. some painted pictures, while others made gardens more beautiful than pictures. others wrote books. many of the stories you like were written by the poets who lived in greece long ago. in all these ways the greeks showed their love for their country and made it a better place in which to live. though they were so wise they had many thoughts which seem strange to us. they believed that long before they were born a race of giants had lived among the mountains. at one time the giants grew angry with zeus, their king, and wished to take his throne away from him. there was a wise giant, named prometheus, who begged them not to attempt to do this. he tried to show them how foolish they were. they would not listen to him. zeus lived upon mount olympus, the highest mountain in greece. the giants brought great rocks to this mountain and piled them up, higher and higher, until they reached the sky. zeus waited until the giants had finished their work and were ready for battle. then he put out his hand and touched the great mound. instantly it fell over into the sea. prometheus and his brother were now the only people on earth. they were so lonely that zeus told them to model some people from clay. prometheus made animals and men and epimetheus, his brother, gave them gifts of courage, swiftness and strength. to some he gave feathers and wings, to others fur and claws, and to others a hard shelly covering. when he came to man he had no covering left. zeus said, "i will clothe man," and that is the reason his covering is so delicate and beautiful. prometheus' people could not breathe. zeus sent him to Æolus, the god of the winds, for help. Æolus sent his strong son, north wind, back with prometheus. when north wind saw the people of clay he whistled with surprise. he blew his breath upon them. they turned as white as snow and began to breathe. they were a cold people, however, and prometheus did not love them. he went to Æolus again and this time south wind and the zephyrs came with him. south wind brought the people green grass and flowers and birds. the zephyrs showed them how to laugh and cry and sing and dance. but the people were stupid. they lived like ants in dark caves. prometheus saw that there was only one thing which would help them. that was _fire_. fire was the most precious thing zeus had, and he kept it ever burning around his throne. when prometheus asked for fire zeus was angry. "i have already given too much to your people," he said. "let them now help themselves." prometheus was sad, indeed. he loved his people more than he did himself. at last he said: "they shall have the fire. i will pay for it with my life." he went straight to zeus' throne and filled a ferule with it, and carried it to his people. then the people began to be wise. he taught them to cook, and to build houses, and to sail their ships upon the ocean. he showed them how to get rich ores from the mountains and prepare them for use. they learned how to plow and to reap and to store up their food for the winter. zeus was angry with prometheus. he chained him to a rock on the top of a high mountain. he sent a great bird each day to torment him. zeus said that he must stay there until he repented and returned the fire to heaven. there prometheus stayed and suffered for many burning summers and long, cold winters. sometimes he grew faint-hearted and wished to be free. then he looked down and saw how the fire was helping the people and how happy they were, and he grew strong again. after many, many years, a greek hero who was sailing over the mountain in a golden cup, saw prometheus. it was hercules. he shot the bird with a golden arrow, unbound the chains and set the wise prometheus free. [illustration] hermes. Æolus was the father of all the winds, great and small. long ago, they all lived happily together in a dark cave near the sea. on holidays, north wind, south wind, east wind and west wind and their faithful sisters, came home and told of their travels. the whirlwinds performed their most wonderful feats, and the zephyrs sang their sweetest songs. these holidays, however, did not come often. there were no idle children in the family of Æolus. they swept and dusted the whole world. they carried water over all the earth. they helped push the great ships across the ocean. the smaller winds scattered the seeds and sprinkled the flowers, and did many other things which you may find out for yourselves. indeed, they were so busy that Æolus was often left alone in his dark home for several days at a time. he was glad when one summer morning a baby came to the cave. the baby's name was hermes, but Æolus called him "little mischief," because he was so little and so full of tricks. zeus was hermes' father and his mother was the beautiful queen maia. she was often called "star of spring," because people thought that wherever she stepped flowers sprang from under the snow. Æolus loved hermes dearly. he taught him many secrets which only the winds know. hermes was a wise baby and understood all that Æolus told him. when he was only two days old he could run and whistle as well as north wind. one day while he was very young he climbed out of his cradle and ran down to the seashore. there he found an old tortoise shell. he picked it up and put a row of holes along each edge of the shell. through these holes he wove some reeds which he found upon the seashore. then he blew softly upon the reeds. the birds heard such wonderful music that they stopped to listen. the leaves on the trees began to dance, and nodded to the flowers to keep still. the waves on the shore caught the tune and have been singing it ever since. hermes had invented the lyre and brought a new kind of music into the world. he soon tired of his lyre and went back to his cradle in the cave. as he lay there he could see a beautiful blue meadow with many white cows upon it. hermes knew that the cows belonged to his brother, king apollo. "what fun," thought he, "i will go and make the cows run." off he ran after them until he was tired and out of breath. then he drove them all backward into a cave, and fastened them in. king apollo soon missed the cows and searched all the meadow for them. he traced them to the cave, but when he came closer to it, he found that all the tracks led from the opening, not into it. near the cave he saw an old man who told him that he had seen the cows. he said that with them he had seen a baby with wings on his cap and heels. apollo knew at once that the baby was his brother, hermes. he went straight to the cave of Æolus. there was hermes in his cradle playing with the shell just like any other baby. apollo was angry and commanded him to stop laughing and crowing and tell him where the white cows were. hermes only picked up the shell and breathed softly upon it. apollo forgot his anger and everything but the beautiful music. he took hermes in his arms and kissed him and begged him to teach him his secret. hermes was glad to be so easily forgiven. he gave apollo the lyre and taught him many ways to play upon it. apollo was soon able to make even sweeter music than hermes, and he afterwards became the god of music. he was so thankful to hermes for his gift that he gave him a wonderful rod called the caduceus. whatever hermes touched with the rod became wise, loving and unselfish. one time he saw two hissing serpents about to spring at each other in fury. he touched them with the caduceus. instantly they twined themselves lovingly around the rod and never again left it. apollo also gave hermes charge over all the cows in the blue meadow. hermes loved the cows and often took them with him on his journeys. he was a wild youth and a great traveler, and so it happens that in nearly all the countries of the world hermes and his white cows have been seen. iris' bridge. in the sky where the amber tints are seen on the clouds, iris was born. she loved her home and all the beautiful things around her. perhaps she sailed in the moon's silver boat and knew why the stars kept twinkling. perhaps she feasted on sunshine and dew, and slept on the soft white clouds. more than anything in her sky-home, iris loved her grandfather, the stern old ocean. when he was merry, and drove his white horses over the water, she was happy. when he was troubled, and the sky grew dark and sad, she quietly slipped her hand into his. instantly he smiled, and became gentle again. he longed always to keep her with him, but the sun said: "no, iris belongs to both ocean and sky. "let her be the messenger between heaven and earth." they placed golden wings upon her shoulders and made her a bridge of beautiful colors. one end of the bridge they rested in the sky, but the other iris could fasten to the earth with a pot of gold. this was the way iris' path was made: the earth gave the tints of her fairest flowers, the sea brought great ribbons of silvery mist, the wind was the shuttle, the sky was the loom and the sun himself was the weaver. it is no wonder that the most beautiful thing in all the world is iris' bridge, the rainbow. [illustration] the golden bough: a study of magic and religion by sir james george frazer contents preface subject index chapter . the king of the wood . diana and virbius . artemis and hippolytus . recapitulation chapter . priestly kings chapter . sympathetic magic . the principles of magic . homoeopathic or imitative magic . contagious magic . the magician's progress chapter . magic and religion chapter . the magical control of the weather . the public magician . the magical control of rain . the magical control of the sun . the magical control of the wind chapter . magicians as kings chapter . incarnate human gods chapter . departmental kings of nature chapter . the worship of trees . tree-spirits . beneficent powers of tree-spirits chapter . relics of tree worship in modern europe chapter . the influence of the sexes on vegetation chapter . the sacred marriage . diana as a goddess of fertility . the marriage of the gods chapter . the kings of rome and alba . numa and egeria . the king as jupiter chapter . succession to the kingdom in ancient latium chapter . the worship of the oak chapter . dianus and diana chapter . the burden of royalty . royal and priestly taboos . divorce of the spiritual from the temporal power chapter . the perils of the soul . the soul as a mannikin . absence and recall of the soul . the soul as a shadow and a reflection chapter . tabooed acts . taboos on intercourse with strangers . taboos on eating and drinking . taboos on showing the face . taboos on quitting the house . taboos on leaving food over chapter . tabooed persons . chiefs and kings tabooed . mourners tabooed . women tabooed at menstruation and childbirth . warriors tabooed . manslayers tabooed . hunters and fishers tabooed chapter . tabooed things . the meaning of taboo . iron tabooed . sharp weapons tabooed . blood tabooed . the head tabooed . hair tabooed . ceremonies at hair-cutting . disposal of cut hair and nails . spittle tabooed . foods tabooed . knots and rings tabooed chapter . tabooed words . personal names tabooed . names of relations tabooed . names of the dead tabooed . names of kings and other sacred persons tabooed . names of gods tabooed chapter . our debt to the savage chapter . the killing of the divine king . the mortality of the gods . kings killed when their strength fails . kings killed at the end of a fixed term chapter . temporary kings chapter . sacrifice of the king�s son chapter . succession to the soul chapter . the killing of the tree-spirit . the whitsuntide mummers . burying the carnival . carrying out death . bringing in summer . battle of summer and winter . death and resurrection of kostrubonko . death and revival of vegetation . analogous rites in india . the magic spring chapter . the myth of adonis chapter . adonis in syria chapter . adonis in cyprus chapter . the ritual of adonis chapter . the gardens of adonis chapter . the myth and ritual of attis chapter . attis as a god of vegetation chapter . human representatives of attis chapter . oriental religions in the west chapter . the myth of osiris chapter . the ritual of osiris . the popular rites . the official rites chapter . the nature of osiris . osiris a corn-god . osiris a tree-spirit . osiris a god of fertility . osiris a god of the dead chapter . isis chapter . osiris and the sun chapter .